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lillianofliterature · 1 year

Note

If your requests are open, and you are comfortable with it, could you maybe please do a King Thranduil x reader one-shot where reader has cancer and it is like angsty?

the toll of sickness | thranduil x reader

a/n: Anon, I am sincerely sorry for the long wait, but I wanted to provide all the angsty venting and comfort I could for you in this! Thank you for your request! I wanted to do this right by you. I hope this helps soothe whatever parts of you need soothing today. I don’t know anon’s/anyone’s specific diagnosis or symptoms, so I’m doing my best to remain respectful and widely general with the topic of cancer. I took inspiration from my own experiences with the mental/emotional toll of long-term chronic illness to supply a plot to resolve, I hope that’s okay (and still relatable). <3

The reader is implied feminine in this as they are referred to as lady/queen, but otherwise, I did my best to keep it gender-neutral with descriptions.

This could also be interpreted as a reader with chronic illness.

DO NOT REPOST MY WORK. GIF EDIT IS MINE.

summary: after a long day of tiresome treatments and the heaviness of your thoughts, you retreat to your chambers to seek the comfort of your husband’s arms.

warnings: mentions of cancer (the reader has cancer), mentions of cancer treatments and symptoms (including needles), medical exhaustion, nonsexual nudity and nonsexual bathing, open discussions of symptoms, fear of death

word count: 6.1k

music: As Long As We Both Shall Live by Bear McCreary

elvish translations: melamin = my love, melda = my dear/beloved

“I think we will conclude here for today, my lady.”

The head healer’s voice drew your wayward attention back to his prim features. His thin lips spread into a smile as he gently unstrapped the tight leather band above your inner elbow, releasing the tension from your skin. The long syringe with its glass barrel was gently pulled from the blue vein that the pressure had highlighted. You rubbed your arm subconsciously as he set aside the supplies for cleaning, hoping the motion would rid your flesh of the awful sensation of being probed.

You blinked away your muddled thoughts. Briefly, you worried that perhaps he had been talking to you long before you’d heard his assessment to end the treatments for the evening. If you had, you were grateful to find no resentment in his gaze for your absentminded silence.

He softly closed his collection of books that had been displayed around a table on the wall adjacent to your cushioned cot in the infirmary. With a bottle of herbal salve, he applied a generous portion to the inner curve of your elbow, satiating any irritation from his needles. The cool gel of the aloe soothed the itchy redness, while the lavender masked the sterile scent of the medications and intensely bitter herbs.

You glanced up from the healer’s gentle efforts, trying on your best smile. “Thank you for your diligence today, Sudryl. It is very much appreciated.”

He bowed his head as he clasped your hand between his palms, “It is always a pleasure to tend to you, my queen. We will resume tomorrow morning if it suits your schedule?”

“My schedule is always free for your remedies. Thranduil has made sure to take over many of my duties so we may focus on my treatment.”

Sudryl smiled once more as he helped you stand from the cot, draping your silken robe over your bare arms as he did so. “The king is very wise, your majesty. I know you detest this period of healing you’re undergoing, but you mustn't mistake rest for idleness. Your people desire greatly for your full recovery, myself included. In order to achieve that, your rest is crucial.”

You didn’t know what to say. Rest was crucial, you knew that. As were the innumerable treatments and remedies being applied and adjusted every day.

But didn’t anyone understand that you were tired of all of this? Exhausted by more than just the cancer and its seemingly endless repercussions that it presented almost daily. Worn down by more than just needles and salves and bitter syrups that lingered in your throat.

You missed feeling well-rested when you woke up in the mornings after a long sleep—you missed having the energy to spend your days fulfilling your duties as a queen, as a servant to her people. You missed the days in which every activity was not dictated or measured by searing pain or groggy fatigue. You were tired of wrestling with your body just to exist comfortably.

But it’s your duty to get better, they keep telling you.

It’s what everyone’s hoping for, your majesty.

Do your best to rest and eat well, my lady.

Don’t give up hope, Queen (Y/n). You are blessed among our kin!

The people have been petitioning their prayers to the Valar fervently, your grace.

They were supposed to be words of encouragement spoken to invigorate your fighting spirit, to ignite that spark of determination that was starting to flicker these last few months. But these endless strains of hope and enlightenment had started to weigh heavily upon your shoulders like a milkmaid’s yoke, and with every well-intentioned word and chorus of song another stone was dropped into the buckets you carried.

The pressure to recover for the sake of others was beginning to feel like too much—the toll of the sickness itself was enough for one to worry about, was it not? Not only did you feel this fearsome desperation to recover for your own sake, for your own life, but also the need of a thousand other voices begging for a show of strength you didn’t feel tangible anymore.

The summoning of one of your servants outside the infirmary doors reminded you that the hour to retire for supper was nearing presently. You felt your posture deflate as it dawned on you that you couldn’t yet retire for the day. Although your extravagant evening meals were one of the few constants that motivated you to follow your days through until nightfall, your hunger had dispersed in the last few days. Being seated at a stiff table dressed with rich delicacies and savory wines sounded nothing short of torture at the moment, even with the promise of dessert.

The servant curtseyed in the broad doorway as Sudryl led you across the room. You couldn’t help but tense as your legs tremored from the sudden activity. A long exhale slipped through your pursed lips.

“My queen,” She rose gracefully, her hands folding together at her waist. “Your supper with the king is nearly prepared. He will be present in the dining hall shortly as soon as his meeting has concluded. I was advised to escort you there safely.”

Clutching onto Sudryl’s forearm, you hesitated to address the messenger. You couldn’t help the expression of distaste that twisted your face. The thought of food was not the only thing that churned your stomach at that moment; the prospect of being walked through your own palace as though you were an invalid, incapable of making it there of your own merit, as though every pair of eyes in this forest need offer you their due pity, bothered you even more than the risk of losing your supper to the toilet.

Knowing you couldn’t send her away under Sudryl’s watchful eye (for surely there would be further inquiries as a result of such an unnecessary dismissal), you managed to nod in thanks to her before turning to him. The head healer’s smile was brimming with empathy. You tried not to feel offended by his pitying compassion. He leaned forward and pecked your cheek reverently, bidding you a respectful farewell until the morning.

You turned from him and followed the servant into the winding halls. Gaze following the eroded pathway of the massive tree roots beneath your sore feet, you bided the seconds until you were both too far to be noticed by any superior voices that might challenge your decision-making. When your footsteps halted, she turned to face you.

Her brows raised, she asked, “My lady? Is something wrong?”

“No, no. I’m alright,” You waved her worries aside with the vague gesture of your hand. “But I can manage the walk to the dining hall from here.”

Her brows drew together in an expression of confusion. You straightened your back—had she seen through your polite fib? Was it that obvious you had no intentions of eating this evening? Or was just she not used to being given conflicting commands between two monarchs?

“—On my own. I can make it there on my own.”

Her lips parted in protest as she recalled what you assumed were very clear orders from your husband only minutes prior. Stretching your hand out to gently touch her shoulder, you reassured her it would be alright. “I will explain to the king myself that I demanded to be left alone. No trouble will come to you, I promise. You will not lose your position.”

“But my lady, I—it is my duty is to ensure your safe arrival. Are you sure you don’t—?”

The irritation that swelled within you wasn’t her fault, you hastily reminded yourself. You bit back the frustrated sigh you wanted to release, tightening your polite smile. Reasoning with another person about what you wanted to do and why you wanted to do it was the last thing you presently wanted to deal with. Desperate to detach yourself from her and anyone else lingering about, you decided to be straightforward. No beating around the bush.

“I value your persistence, young one, but I would very much like to retire early tonight. You may inform my husband that I’ll be taking my meal in our chambers if you must.”

“Understood, your majesty. I shall inform the king. Have a good evening.” She dipped into an impulsive curtsy, quickly trailing back to the chancellery to relay your decision.

You didn’t even wait for her to pass beyond the long hall ahead before you turned in the opposite direction. Your private chambers weren’t too far from the infirmary, thankfully. However, it still took some resolve on your behalf to encourage your depleted energy through corridors and foyers all the way back to your comfortable bed. The silver silk of your robe billowed around your feet with every step, giving your eyes something other than walls of stone and root to follow.

You were sure your husband wouldn’t be taking the present news about your wellbeing all that agreeably. You could see it clearly in your mind—the disheveled, anxious worry in his eyes that he masked behind a wall of solemn regality. But you could always see what he was thinking. He wouldn’t like the fact that your treatments were taking more and more of a toll on your already wearisome state. He would like it even less when he found out you would soon be dismissing supper altogether.

His concern wasn’t for himself, of course. It was for you—it was always for you.

He wanted desperately for you to be able to enjoy your meals in the glittering brilliance of the dining hall, unperturbed by fatigue and nausea. He wanted you to be able to take those strolls through the forest gardens that you adored so much without the sore discomfort in your bones. He wanted you to relish in your life and its unrivaled importance. And most of all, he wanted desperately to take this lingering sickness away; he wished he had been born with a skill for healing like some of his kin.

But all he could give you were the promises of an unsure future and the enlistment of his most skilled associates and all relevant resources that could be found about your condition. And some part of you—some sad, twisted part of you—felt a rush of guilt that so much commotion and worry was being circulated about the kingdom on your behalf. And that guilt only made the whole affair all the more frustrating and maddening. These days, everything inflamed your anger. This whole tumultuous ordeal seemed to be unraveling more than just your physical state.

You knew it was ridiculous to feel responsible in some way for what was happening to you. You hadn’t chosen this, you hadn’t brought it on yourself—you most certainly didn’t deserve it. No one with cancer ever does. But reasoning with your inner turmoil was like wrestling a wild boar in the mud; there was never any true resolve without the cost of more anxieties, more wounds, more gashes in your soul. And the more you tried to gain a grip on yourself, the less grounded you became, the more it all slipped through your fingers.

The click of the door was a chime of resolve as you leaned against the tall wooden frame from within the calm confines of your spacious bedroom. Sliding out of your supple leather flats and letting your robe slump to your elbows, you took the first deep breath you had been able to control since earlier that morning. The king-sized bed frame creaked subtly as you lowered yourself onto the fluffed silken duvet. Ever so gradually, you felt the weight of the vertical world begin to reprieve from your muscles like steam rushing upwards from a boiling pot.

Rest wasn’t a cure for what ailed you, no, but Valar above, sometimes it felt like it.

Since your diagnosis—the terrifying sickness devouring your energy and livelihood from within your own body—nearly every day had been spent in the infirmary or the healer’s sanctuary, remedies administered by the hour, conversations turning tiresome and sour. It had begun to feel like your own home was a prison, the world beyond the palace unreachable, like every action was a strenuous transaction of vitality and exhaustion. Even just walking the gardens that lead into the forest had become inexplicably draining—it left you feeling as though you’d run to Mirkwood’s southern border and back rather than taking a few turns about the courtyard.

But here, on the cloud-like comfort of your private chambers, there was some reprieve from it all. There were no endless strands of questions about your well-being and your comfort and opinions on the tedious details of your health here—only the distant rush of the waterfalls that crashed brazenly into the river moat outside the palace gates. You could hear the chirping of the early summer insects as dusk narrowed on the horizon beyond the open terrace. There was no sterile smell of concentrated alcohol or the pungent gnawing of tart herbs. Instead, there was a faint aroma of lilacs wafting in from the gardens and the scent of your husband’s musk lingering in your bed.

Closing your eyes and rolling onto your lesser-sore side, you sought out the imprint that his body might have left there that morning. But the duvet was creased flat and folded with a chill under your skin. It was curious futility to think his warmth might have lasted after so many long hours away, you knew that; the bed was always plumped and remade in the mornings by your gracious servants. A coldness ran through you, engulfing your skin in little bumps that felt like prickling needles.

Too sore from your aches to unfurl the taut covers from the mattress and too comfortable to retrieve one of your husband’s many fur throws, you recoiled your arm and folded your limbs closer together, curling into a position that would magnify your own body heat. While quietly taking in the environment of your sanctuary, this small peaceful haven that almost made you forget the turmoil your body was enduring, you hardly noticed as you faded into a light slumber. Caught between the ebbing flow of consciousness as it bobbed around the sleepy release of your strained body, wading between thoughts and dreams.

Unaware of the passage of time as you laid there in groggy consciousness, you hardly felt the urge to stir from your position until you felt the back of someone’s hand on your cheek, the brushing aside of your askew (h/c) tendrils. Then you made out the quiet husk of a voice that hovered above you in the dark.

In the dark? Sunset was still a couple of hours away! And after that, dusk would linger still until the light vanished beyond the mountains to the west. Why was it already so dark?

Hadn’t it only been a few fleeting minutes since you’d closed your eyes, listening to the cicadas and savoring the sweetness of the summer flora? Eyebrows pursed, you could hear yourself attempt to answer, but the meticulous reply you’d fabricated in your mind was delivered in heavy vowels that grouped together lazily. Your speech felt like treacle slipping off your tired tongue.

A velvet chuckle reverberated in your perking ears.

“Have I forgotten my native tongue or was that a very poor attempt at Sindarin?”

Thranduil.

Your nose scrunched up as you fought to drain the sleepiness that was working against you so fervently. Before you could stir the tired droopiness from your eyes with eager fists, two gentle hands cupped your cheeks and swept their thumbs over your closed eyes. The motion was akin to a gentle massage, spanning your sore eyelids and dusting across your cheekbones, a cradling of your vulnerable stillness that filled your chest with a fond fervor. The supple tenderness of his lips collided briefly with yours before parting all too quickly.

“Mm?” Your vocabulary hadn’t quite refreshed itself, it seemed. “When d’dju geten?”

Another rumbling chuckle he didn’t bother trying to hide. You pictured his willowy frame standing primly in front of the tall gilded looking glass, unfastening his stuffier robes and tucking his powder–blonde hair behind his pointed ears, or perhaps even tying it back for the night as he often did.

Stars, it felt like there were weights on your shoulders pulling you back against the duvet as you forced yourself to sit up, like the muscles beneath your skin were unraveling at the seams. You rubbed your eyes and shooed your disheveled hair from your peripheral vision, glancing around the dark room for your husband’s silhouette. A flicker of light plumed suddenly in the sconce near the vanity, illuminating his fair features. The match in his hand extinguished with a puff of air from his lips before his pale blue eyes found yours.

“I only just came in,” he reassured you, “I’m afraid I underestimated how much wind some of our advisors have in their lungs, especially when provoked.”

Another votive flickered to life on the other side of the room, another match snuffed out under his breath. The sunlight outside had all but gone in the murky hours you had been asleep. Now that you could take in the mellow darkness of the evening without confusion, some part of you felt distressed about the sudden absence of natural light. The daylight, warm and golden, always brought you a sense of comfort. But now it was dark and grey and the light of the moon was cold, distant, and you hadn't had a chance to prepare yourself for it. Another chill ran across your skin as a more frigid breeze swept in from the open terrace.

“Did Sudryl have a chance to share the news with you before retiring this evening?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder at you. His lips pursed when he saw your unmoving figure still sitting on the edge of the bed, your back draped in silks, facing away from him. Your slumped posture told him all he needed to know about how you were feeling after your treatments—the exhaustion was palpable in how slow your palm rose to cradle your own forehead, in how shaky you were as you forced yourself up from the bed and took hold of the bedpost.

He was near you in an instant, his strong hands taking gentle hold of your bowed shoulders. There he was, combing the stray hairs on your head down with doting affection, all while the same frustrations were building up inside of you as your sleepiness dissipated.

“You needn’t rise for me, melamin, I am no guest.” He chided gently.

“I know, I just need a bath before we settle in for the night.”

“You’re in no state to manage that tonight, (Y/n)—”

“Thranduil, I haven’t rinsed off the ointments. I smell like the forest—and not in a good way.”

“You smell like an herb garden, fresh and natural, as all things should be.”

“Pungent is more like it,” You quipped, catching the accent of bitter walnuts exuding from your thin robes. It was that old, damp, dingy sort of bitterness that made you want to expel the air from your lungs with a snort when you caught a whiff of it—not the pleasant sort of musk from the gardens.

He laughed again, this time with more relief behind his eyes. Even though he knew you were spent from the day’s strenuous activities, the presence of your humor provided him with some semblance of comfort. And as for your own weary senses, his smooth strain of laughter was more than a consolation for the muted anxiousness that the infirmary always inflicted.

“Then let me help you.”

“Thranduil, I can do it mys—”

“I insist,” He offered decidedly, and you knew well enough from past experience that arguing with him on the matter would prove ineffective.

He gently looped your arm through the curve of his elbow, placing a sweet kiss to your messy hair before turning along with you toward the adjoined bathing chamber. You leaned into him for support and begrudgingly admitted to yourself that he was right—there was no way you could withstand the exertion on your own, at least not tonight. Not while you felt this lethargic, not while your stress levels were causing such tension throughout your body, making everything denser, slower, sluggish.

Once he led you into the warmly lit haven of the spacious chamber, the steam of the hot spring pool seemed to draw you in on its own accord. The walls and their rugged shapes made the flickering yellowness of the torchlight spread longer shadows among its natural angles and divots. The far right wall was connected to the run-off of one of the many springs that stretched like veins throughout the mountain palace—and it was little cavern rooms like this one that reminded you that you were living in the majesty of a low-peaking mountain, not just nestled in the forested density of the Greenwood.

You knelt at the rim of the bathing pool on the soft stone edge, dragging your hand through the clear blue water. The natural warmth of the hot spring invigorated you with a sense of eagerness as you remembered just how soothing these glowing pools always were. A gentle touch to your shoulder lured your attention back to your husband, who with a fond smile, was waiting to help you unravel your robes and underthings. Taking his hand, you were pulled to stand in front of him with the gentlest limits of his strength.

You hardly felt the pressure or the tugging of his lithe fingers as he helped you undress, his touch but a breeze across your sore skin. When you were naked and chilled from the exposure, he guided you into the blue waters and leaned over the pool’s edge to make sure you were steady on the outcropped seat of eroded stonework submerged in the water. As the bubbling warmth enveloped your flesh, your eyes fluttered shut with an involuntary sigh of relief.

There were very rarely things that proved effective for your ceaseless pains—medicines and supplements only lasted so long or relieved so little, and sleep was growing more difficult to manage. But this—the heat bubbling up from the earth, sorted through sediment and mineral—was the most relief you found these days.

When submerged in the hot spring bath, your entire body numbed to its own plague as your bones and muscles absorbed whatever benefits came from the terrain around you. You briefly wondered how you ever managed to get out the last time you soaked like this, with every inch of your flesh basking in the warmth that enveloped you.

You relaxed against the glossy stones, trying to quiet your mind of all the infernal anxieties pressing a weight against your chest. The noise of your thoughts made it difficult to focus fully on the soothing effects of the natural hot spring, tensing and loosening your muscles and posture between every harsh doubt.

With a fresh cloth he brandished from a side table, Thranduil dipped it into the warm bath and began gently scrubbing away the ground athelas mixture. He’d seated himself comfortably on the edge of the bath, submerging his calves into the pool to cradle you between them. The cloth strummed along your chest and stomach as he reached over and behind, where the herbs from Sudryl’s remedies had been infiltrating the cancerous sickness plaguing your organs. You hadn’t meant to show him how weak you felt, how tired you were, how desperately you needed this—but your head fell back to rest against his stomach despite this as the steam curled around you both, dampening your hair and foreheads.

After your rinsing from the spout of a silver pitcher, he coaxed oils and lathered soaps across your flesh, your own fingers clasping onto the pale skin of his forearm or around his leg, refusing to cease contact with him. And although he generously and willingly offered his aide while the healing minerals of that glowing pool of steam soothed you, some venomous voice in the back of your mind tried to feed you strings of doubt and loathing.

He shouldn’t have to do this. He shouldn’t have had to become my caretaker.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wasn’t supposed to get sick—neither of us was.

He deserves more than this mess I’ve given him. He deserves better than me.

You cleared your throat, trying to silence the growing guilt and shame before that stinging swell of tears could grow any more than they already were.

“What was it you were going to tell me?” You asked after the first of his own sweet-scented oils was being lathered along your arms, turning you about to face him. “Earlier, you mentioned something about Sudryl?”

“Ah, that,” he nodded in remembrance, “I gather he didn’t mention anything about Lord Elrond to you today?”

“Lord Elrond?” You inquired, lifting your questioning gaze to meet his. “No—no, he didn’t. Has something happened? Something to do with our alliances? Or with that trade treaty we adjusted with Laketown in the spring—”

“No, melamin, nothing of diplomatic proportions—all is still amiable with our kin for the time being,” he reassured. When he glanced up at you, the tranquil hope glittering in his blue eyes soothed the curious worry growing in your mind. He almost seemed excited about something. It tugged the corners of your mouth into a brief smile. “I sent word to him a little more than a month ago now, I suppose, to see what he might be able to do about your condition, to inquire about whether his skill with healing might mend what ails you.”

You swallowed hard over the sudden discomfort of anxiety that rose again like bile in your throat at the mention of more treatment, more guests, more expectations for healing. More, more, more.

“He is to arrive within a week of his latest correspondence, which came this morning. Preparations are being made for his arrival as we speak.”

Unknowingly, your grip had tightened on your husband’s forearm, your nails digging shallow crescents into his skin. The sharp sensation drew his attention downward to your hands, his dark brows furrowing in concern. His fingers winding around yours brought your attention to your vice-like grip, which you promptly loosened.

“What is it, (Y/n)? Does this news not please you?”

The earnestness in his pale eyes pierced your heart, the guilt bubbling up in your mind again. You weren’t sure what worried you most. The prospect of more prodding, more treatments, more attempts that might lead to nowhere; the fuss being made across the realm about your condition, about this peculiar, harsh sickness that was so puzzling to even the brightest minds; or perhaps, most worrisome of all, was the fact that you were no longer able to manage the upkeep of a happy facade. So many people were hoping, praying, supporting, and tending to you.

And somehow, you found that to be the most exhausting part of it all. Not only were you fighting for your own body, for comfort and life, but you were trying to uphold and appease every pair of eyes that was eagerly awaiting your miraculous recovery from something you didn’t even know how to fight. There were so many hopes to meet, so many hearts to comfort on your behalf, and your resolve was quietly crumbling.

Before you could think to soften your words in an attempt to save Thranduil’s optimism, your lips began to move, a sudden impulse of tears gathering in your eyes. “What if there is nothing even Lord Elrond can do to cure this?”

He paused, his eyes searching yours briefly before his damp fingers reached up to caress your cheek. How had he not seen the disparagement growing behind your gaze, darkening the lilt in your voice? Hidden behind humor and mischievous quips, but no less obvious.

“If—if I do not show improvement, our people will lose their resolve. Everyone’s counting on me to get better, to show some store of strength I no longer have and I–I can’t will my body to right itself,” you bore to him, panicked and spent from months of effort, “I cannot give everyone the hope they're seeking from me."

“Oh, melamin,” his chin nestled over your ear as he murmured with such rich affection, pressing your face into the musky homeliness of his neck.

“I know I should be grateful for their support, for their prayers and their offerings, but it’s becoming too much, Thranduil. I don’t have the strength for a kingdom’s worth of miracles.”

“You do not owe anyone but yourself the grace of your strength. Had I known their encouragement had put pressure on you to perform, I would have silenced the lot of them.”

Despite his sincerity, you panicked on. “What if I am never rid of it? What if this is my blight that I must war with for the rest of my life?”

He sombered then, drawing in a deep string of air into his lungs. You could see him wrestling with the reality of your honesty, with the questions you both had been too afraid to speak aloud before now. Gathering himself, he drew you nearer to him, clinging to you with a brief urgency that almost startled you.

“Then we will rise together each day to face it. There will never be a single day that you will have to endure this on your own. Do you hear me? That is my promise to you—that my vow and my diligence will never waver where you are concerned.”

Your tears burned with his words and you worked to force them at bay, his sweetness drawing every sour fear and thought of guilt from your mind and onto your tongue. “I am so sorry for this life I have given you. You didn’t ask for this—you cannot be happy with me—with this-this terrible thing I’ve brought upon us. You deserve so much more, and I can no longer give it to you.”

“You’re apologizing—?” He questioned, his voice quiet in shock.

Your eyes clamped shut, forcing the well of sorrows from your eyes to plummet. Gently, he pulled himself back, repositioning his hands on your upper arms as if to garner your absolute attention.

“(Y/n), this life you have given me has been far more than I have ever deserved and could ever strive to. From the moment we met, you have enriched my life just by your existence alone, much less the many qualities and traits about you I have come to treasure beyond all fortune or success. You have given me everything, a dozen lifetimes over, in the mere centuries we have been together.”

“You cannot have wanted this,” you breathed out, hushed by your own shame.

“No, I did not want you to suffer with something so abysmal, something so beyond my control. Of course I did not want for your pain…but if this is our future, if this is our path together, then I want every minute of it, and I will not settle for a second less. I would upheave the very crest of the world and drown mountains in flame if it meant saving you. And if that makes me selfish or ruthless, then I will be the standard at which devils compare their sins.”

His hands had gradually found their way up to your face, cradling your damp cheeks with a sincerity that made your lip quiver.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

The sight of the tearful waterline reflected in his eyes drew a noise of curt regret from your lungs. Your sob pierced his heart, filling him with a desperation to amend the shame and anxiety plaguing your mind.

“If you truly believe that you are at fault for this sickness, then in turn I must be held responsible for allowing it to happen in the first place. As your husband first, but also as your king.”

“No, no that’s not true! It’s not even reasonable of you to—”

“Then how can it be your fault? How could any of this be on your shoulders? There is no sense in blame, (Y/n). Not here, not with this.”

There was a stillness after his words, a stillness that was meant for rumination, and sealed with his lips against your skin and hair. Your hands rose to rest against his chest, nestling them over the dip of his collarbone as you felt for comfort in the blur of your tears. His silence prompted an answer.

“It’s not my fault,” you replied.

“Say it again.”

“It isn’t my fault,” you echoed, meeting his gaze once more, “just as it isn’t yours.”

And as shocking as it was for you to realize it, you truly believed the words he encouraged from you. This sickness wasn’t your fault. Neither of you could have had any sway with fate or destiny, with whatever had brought this on. And perhaps, it just simply was, with no cause or fault at all. What mattered now was how kind you could be to yourself, how to take one moment of strife and find something in it to hold onto. Moments like this were one of those morsels between the ebbing aches of pain and grief that you could relish and devour again and again.

Thranduil leaned forward, pressing his sweat-laced brow against yours. “Do not ever blame yourself, melamin. Do not let those foul words pass between your lips again.”

You nodded against him, pulling him nearer. “I promise.”

In the long minutes that followed, there was the solace of quiet intimacy as he rinsed through your hair one final time, peppering you with kisses and caresses at every opportunity. He met you with a soft fluffy towel when he led you out of the bath, never allowing a breeze to nip at your damp skin. His touch was featherlight as he patted you dry from head to toe, scrunching your drenched tendrils of (h/c) hair without complaint.

“I’m still so afraid,” you managed the courage to speak aloud, “What if–...what if this sickness claims my life?”

“You will not part this world without me, melda. Not a single breath will leave your lungs without my sharing it, not a single heartbeat will we not share,” he vowed, the absolute belief in his voice making the promise all the richer, “there isn’t a corner in this world or any other that you could wander to that I would not accompany you.”

Your silk nightgown slipped over your outstretched arms swiftly, sliding down your body and into place comfortably. He did up the lace of the collar with efficiency, not missing the chance to playfully tug you closer with the slightest bit of his strength. You planted yourself against his chest, the smile on your lips effortless with his own. The firm warmth of his arms wrapping around you had the same sort of pain-numbing effect as the hot spring, lulling every fretful thought to a close. His somber laugh reverberated again, this time through your bones, bringing an ethereal kind of peace with it.

The pillows of your large four-poster bed were positioned, fluffed, and repositioned. You waited patiently, upon his insistence, as he untucked and pulled the puffy duvet back for you to crawl under. Once comfortably tucked beneath layers of silk and cotton, he assumed his place beside you, careful not to jostle the mattress as he settled, mindful that every movement enticed your discomfort.

His body heat made you sleepy as you sank further into the covers, fogging your thoughts with a drowsy anticipation for the release of slumber. You’d waited for this moment all day—it had been the image that had pushed you through the hours of treatment and questions—the moment you could finally burrow against his warmth and drunken yourself with his scent. There was a slight stirring as he reached off to the side to retrieve something on the bedside table.

The fluttering of pages caught your fading attention, pulling your heavy-eyed gaze toward the book in his grasp. “Would you like to continue where we left off?”

You smiled tiredly against his chest, not recalling the events of the book he’d been reading to you for the last few nights. Oftentimes, the first few pages would strike vividly in your imagination, but as his lustrous tone carried on through paragraphs and chapters, the sleepy security that his presence enticed made it impossible to recall anything beyond the thrilling hum of his voice. In all actuality, you were quite sure he didn’t mind if you knew anything at all about the story he was reading aloud. It was enough to hold you and be held.

TAGS: @tessaem @izbelross @bloodblossoms73 @sunnysidesidra

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theantarwitch · 3 months

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About medicine in witchcraft: Health spells, Professional Healers and Unprofessional scammers (And two healing spells from me)

Lately I have been seeing a dangerous amount of medical dangerous videos in our usual witchy spaces (specially in Instagram, since I refuse to use TikTok) and that bring me here in one of my long rants who nobody really cares. But, as a healer with lot of medical background, I have to.

First, for the love of your deity, don’t take these damn vids seriously. I’m not a doctor but I know enough that a huge ton of what they put there is medical misinformation dressed as mystical powers.

I’m not asking you to become a doctor, but at least remember: Physical symptoms are NEVER caused by one single illness, and you HAVE to rule out all the possible physical illness before even consider it a symptom of your superpowers.

Yes, some minor things like a random ear ringing or a random tingle on your hand doesn’t need you to run to ER, but at least THINK about mundane causes to it.

Your ear ring? Are you using headphones a lot? Loud music? You shower and water entered on your ear? You are taking meds? Stress? Your neck is stiff and affecting your inner ear? You are neurodivergent?

Your hand tingle? Is the same hand in what you use your phone 20 hours at day? You sleep over that arm? Your shoulder is stiff? You use a mousse a lot? You practice a sport and the nerves are tired? Did you drink coffee or Red Bulls?

And I’m not even mention REAL illnesses, this is just a bunch of mundane causes! So how you dare to believe in more deeper topics of spiritual stuffs, if you have zero critical thinking in something so mundane and basic as your own body? How you plan to be an efficient witch if you don’t even doubt about these things? How you even dare to talk about your deity if you believe anything as a sign?

An advanced witch bases their path in three big needs:

Need of study (Books or google, spend months or YEARS reading and learning)

Need of critical thinking (Think, think and ask, be curious and compare data, question it)

Need of wise skepticism (Don’t fall into the “The government want me to believe this but I’m smarter” or “Vaccines do harm, people don’t need calcium, there is brick’s dust on ketchup” kind of mindset (Yes, these are things I heard). That’s not skepticism, that’s being a Facebook Boomer Mom. Skepticism is question everything and to always be suspicious, but is neither “don’t believe in anything because I’m so smart that I can see the lies”.

And healers, my beloved healers. As one, I have to say it on the most real way: LEARN SOME MEDICINE. Specially before to do public claiming that can really hurt others.

Why learn medicine? Because as happened once… A lovely lady did a spell to lose weight. She got gastroenteritis and spent a week on the bathroom. She lost weight? Yes. In a dangerous unhealthy way? Yes. She recovers her weight back after go to the doc? Absolutely.

The body is a fine machine, a ton of process, hormones, parts, that you will always ignore and omit.

Another big mistake: “Spell to Boost my Metabolism”. Do you even know what a metabolism is? What it does? Do you even know that it has three main functions of metabolism? (Conversion of the energy to run cellular processes; conversion to building block of proteins, lipids, nucleic acids, and some carbohydrates; and the elimination of metabolic wastes). When you “boost your metabolism”, what you are aiming to do? You even know what your body need of these three…

“Spell to boost my Immune System”… Again, what part? Do you even know that your immune system is “slow” or it is just working against an illness as it should? (Reaction is not the same than an immunodeficiency) Are you aware that your body can be doing great and you will be pushing to get an overactive immune system? (And getting Asthma, Eczema, Hay fever, Food allergy and any other kind of allergy, Lupus, Type 1 Diabetes, Inflammatory bowel disease, Celiac, etc.).

Please, if you use “detox spell” in any way, just stop. Period.

If you are not willing to spend a couple of weeks at least in the damn Wikipedia, or you are in a rush, at least aim big and general, do a classic “Health/Healing spell”, that is focused on that, bring health where is needed. “My body gets healthier. My body gets health where is needed” It can’t go wrong, since you purposely don’t specify where or which part, you just do a “Somewhere I need it, and since I can’t know it, the Cosmos may know it and aid me”. If you need spells to focus a healing in a body part, maybe you need a doc, not a spell…. (Get a doc. If is so simple to not need a doc, then your body will do it without need a spell anyway)

You can also do the same with Physical Strength Spells (again aiming to boost what you don’t know what it needs to be boosted and avoiding to boost something that it DOESN’T NEED IT).

And if you are a Healer who really want to have a 90% of effectiveness on focalized and specialized healing spells, then time to study. You will need to know about hormones, chemicals, physical process, all the systems, nerves, bones, nutrition, meds… And pretty much being able to discuss with you client (to put in a way) about literally all their medical history.

And a gently offer to anyone who actually read all this shit, I give a couple of “simple” ideas for you all:

Regeneration Spell: Just a Healing spell, aimed to “attack” where is needed, but it focusses in a cellular level. General Healing spells usually are so general that include things like disposal of waste, mineral absorption, water absorption, digestion, hair growing, skin growing, muscle develop, and pretty much EVERYTHING that’s happening on your body right now, even including the gut bacteria. A Regeneration Spell will focus in each single cell of your body, from skin to bone, to neurons, to T Cells from your immune system. All. Something that your body do (except with the neurons) but that get slower with the age. This spell focus on restores damaged or missing cells to full function (you can help it to happen better with a good balanced diet, some basic exercise, proper sleep, and trying to reduce stress)

Big warning. BE SPECIFIC “My cells will get regenerated where my body need it to be healthy and in full function” or something like that. Why SO specific if the healing spells are general? Because Cancer.

Yes. Cancer. A cancerous tumor is failed cell of your own body. Our beloved bodies kill around six infected or cancer cells each DAY. Eventually (if you live enough or if your immune system gets weak) one of them will grow your body be on troubles. If you do a regeneration spell without that proper aim, you will also help to any cancer cell to regenerate, hence you can cause you a HUGE DEAL in a future. Will not happen 100% of the cases, many of these tumors can be not cancerous (benign) yet give you problems.

How do the spell? Just as any healing spell. Do your way.

Homeostasis Spell: What’s is homeostasis? Is the condition of optimal functioning for the organism, a state of steady internal physical and chemical conditions maintained by living systems. Is a stable self-regulated process of equilibrium between interdependent elements. In simple words, is the perfect state of full pure health of your body. Is a healing spell without the “but”.

What it affects? ALL in the most basic small internal way. Body temperature, fluid balance, the pH of extracellular fluid, the concentrations of ions, blood sugar, oxygen, hormones, etc. If the body do it properly, then is balanced, in an optimal functioning, hence healing itself without big issues.

This spell helps specially (or BOOST) the body on regulate itself despite the many changes in the environment, diet, or level of activity. In this case, you don’t need to be specific, since homeostasis seek for health naturally. Do your regular healing spell but like “My body reach homeostasis”.

So. Rant and all made, I think is time for me to shut up. See you around, and check if you need drink water, sleep, rest, stretch, food, meds or hygiene!

#witchcraft #witch #pagan #paganism #witchy #green witch #witches #advance witch #advanced witchcraft #healer #healing #heath spells #spells #medicine #witchblr

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roo-bastmoon · 1 year

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Suspicious Treatment of Jimin: What am I forgetting?

I have serious medication-induced brain fog so my memory is swiss cheese these days. I am trying to map out something so I can understand what is happening with our Jimin....

So far:

Hanteo deleted hundreds of thousands in sales; company did not comment.

YouTube froze and deleted millions of streams every day; company did not comment.

Jimin's Spotify profile was not properly listed. It still has no description or link to merch.

Jimin's works are not added to the company's playlist for days and sometimes weeks while other members' works and collabs are added immediately.

Spotify froze and filtered millions of his streams; company did not comment.

His title track was deliberately split, despite qualifying to count as one unit.

His in-ear devices failed to work during a live performance.

He was allowed only 9 days of promotion.

He was denied when he requested more than 2 music videos.

His historic Hot 100 #1 was not acknowledged by the company except for one single retweet the day-of.

He had no celebrations, no formal acknowledgement by company leadership of his achievement or of the resulting huge increase in stock prices.

Billboard changed their charting rules in Week 2; company did not comment until it was time for a different album to sell.

His albums did not ship to China and have not been restocked on WeVerse for weeks (whereas other artists' albums have).

His instagram was shadow banned. His videos on TikTok are also soft-blocked from being boosted.

All other members' YouTube focused views for Take Two auto-generate a preview photo; his does not (this must be deliberately selected not to generate an image). *Apparently they have fixed this issue after enough fans called it out on Twitter.

Some have observed that since Hybe took over, Jimin has been given fewer lines in group songs and less time dancing center as well.

A recent WeVerse article about Morgan Wallen downplayed both Yoongi's tour and Jimin's album as achieving "some partial success in breaking up [Wallen's] domination of the Hot 100."

Add to this the company "omitting" his bills four times, which lead to late payments on insurance premiums, which led to his apartment being "seized," which led to a smear campaign in the press the very same day his OST With You dropped... followed by his personal address and national identity number being doxxed online... and this honestly looks suspicious as hell.

What am I forgetting?

I'm not a manti but if I don't get reasonable explanations I'm gonna become one.

How can it look like anything other that deliberate sabotage so that one member does not outshine the rest?

How is this good business sense?

Jimin is a humble, hardworking team-player with no ambitions to go solo and leave his members. Why would anyone have it out for him?

It's possible there's prejudice and bigotry at play, but deep enough to span multiple departments and cut into the company's bottom line?

And yet how can it not be deliberate? How can any company be THIS incompetent for just ONE member?

And yet if we raise hell, we look like victimizing solos. Yet look at this laundry list!! And it just keeps happening. What can be done??

Can we not organize a quiet mass-email campaign? Can someone not write up a well-researched UCC article to share in English and Korean and keep tagging Hybe? Would it not be possible to comment respectfully about this in WeVerse?

Or would acknowledging it at all make it worse for Jimin?

I don't understand all the politics at play here.

I have no real idea what is happening but part of me is quietly terrified they have it out for him during contract negotiations for some reason.

What is BTS without all our beloved seven?

I'm genuinely very deeply upset.

#jimin #park jimin #jikook

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themoodyestj · 12 days

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Hello, my beloved.

today i bring you a list of stuff you can try to not be so bitter and miserable all the time.

1. breath slowly, in and out, relax.

2. take a nap

3. eat a cookie

4. listen to some music

5. touch some grass

6. get laid ( if no one wants you, hands and a picture of Dee are valid too!)

7. hug your pet ( or a cactus if you don't have a pet)

8. practice acceptance (Dee is the Queen and you're never going to be her and Jensen is never going to fuck you)

9. find someone you actually like and admire, and fan over that person (not some guy you think is a mediocre actor and a pushover who can't stand for himself and needs idiots from the internet to defend him from his wife)

10. remember that i love you, and this is not hate, just constructive criticism because i want you to be better.

❤️ your secret admirer

Awww, my secret admirer again. :D Does that mean I'm getting flowers everyday now? So happy to see you, honey. Thanks for all the advice, I take them to heart. Although, sadly, I have to say I'm not as bitter or as miserable as you may want me to be. I do have a family, two cats and a dog, and a career. I do get laid quite often and im a fierce advocate of lone intimacy. Super healthy, I do it all. But also, I have an opinion. One that ruffles many many feathers, but in case you didnt notice, I don't quite care. But hey, if it feeds your delusion that all people who disagree with you are sad and lonely, by all means, stick to it. We dont want you having a psychotic breakdown, do we? Lets try to avoid that at all costs. I gotta say, number 8 sent me. We don't all have the same aspirations in life. Perhaps you'd like to sleep with Jensen (cause honey, the projection is strong here) and you use Dee as a heavy self insert, but I honestly dont want to. It is perfectly ok to like someone (and at the same time critique someone) and not want to sleep with them. I know, mindblowing, right? Such a complex concept, Im sure you find it hard to grasp. But just because its hard for you to understand, it doesnt make it less real. I bet a lot is really hard for you to understand, so...

Danneel being a queen? Of what exactly? Honey, I don't want to be her, I wanna be me. Should i aspire to be someone, it would be a woman who in fact has a flourishing career, and not someone whose assets are basically marrying someone. I'd aspire to be someone with talent, inteligence, gumption. Not someone who still rides on the small parts she played in the past because she knows there isnt much really going on for her. Someone who overpriced her pictures at Wales Con expecting to have a great reception only to find a very small line for her and feeling desperate enough to take pics with her kids insteadto feel relevant. You know, Id actually be less critic of her if she was more honest about herself. If she wasnt so fast to take jabs at her own husband when she herself has very little to offer. But hey, if thats your Queen... By all means. She definitely isnt mine. I dont think Jensen is mediocre. I think he let himself go a little. I think he was happier in SPN days and I miss that light, to be honest. Maybe ill see him improve in his next projects and ill be the first to applaud him for that (and ill post about it too, so stay tuned). As of lately... Ive seen a man who plans a concert with no AC, struggling to sing, I see a man who's tense next to his wife, I see a man who seems to be self medicating to cope and that worries me. I do hope he improves, I wish him no harm. But of course this doesnt help your delulu, so i know your brain will totally ommit what i just wrote. Ok, this is all the attention youre getting now. Im starting to think you do actually love me, cause this was fun! You delulus never fail in giving me a good hearted laugh! See you soon, secret admirer!

#anti aas #anti danneel #anti elta #jensen concern #jensen critical #anti danneel ackles #anti delalas

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aroaceleovaldez · 6 months

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comp of your favorite jason panels maybe?? or maybe an octavian doodle?? i was hit with the silly beam and now i need more blonde roman boys content. mayhaps add any other blonde romans boys you have crafted. i desperately need rick to flesh out camp jupiter the potential is insane - @argoii-official's mod erratum 🤭

MOD ERRATUM!!!!!!! i blow a little kiss to your askblog one mun to another. Tumblr decided it absolutely hated me putting images on this post so I will make a separate one for the favorite deadangelos Jason panels later. A little tiny Octavian for you though (he's grumpy):

and i will dig through my romans to see if there's any other interesting blond boys in there (i still have like two and a half cohorts to design plus messengers and medics, so there is still plenty of opportunity). let's see... oh yes I do indeed have some funky lil blond boys.

Lore for them below the cut:

okay, starting with the canon boys: Jacob i've made a son of Venus and i've decided is best friends with Terrel and Bobby. He's a shy and quiet kind of guy but he's doing his best. Also insert my hc about 5th cohort being more likely to be direct descendants versus legacies here (cause something something lack of letters of recommendation). Also because of a mistranslation about his job title my group chat has decided his demigod weapon is a gun. Julius i made a legacy of Indiges (deified Aeneas) based on his name. I haven't decided too much for him other than I think it would be interesting if Jason used to have a crush on him at some point.

VES okay Ves is fun. So first things first: scene kid my beloved. Scene kid with a bee theme. The joke is the hair stripes. His lore is that he's a legacy of Mellona (goddess of honey/bees) and he has a big ol' crush on Gerard, because Gerard is emo and they have similar music tastes.

Gerard i am going to be completely honest is 100% themed on MCR. I like listening to music when I design characters and I thought it'd be funny also i realized the name Gerard works thematically for a Mars kid. It all came together. Anyways he's emo, he's an MCR fan, no he does not know Ves has a big ol' crush on him. Ves is dying, squirtle.

Edgar is a son of Lua, a goddess to whom weapon spoils of war were sacrificed to. He's just kind of a cool edgy guy. Not pictured is his bestie, a girl named Felicity Pace, who is a legacy of Abundantia and Pax, and is also in 4th cohort. They're opposites-attract thematically (war vs peace, low energy vs high energy) but also they're both fashionistas and extremely dramatic.

Anton is my extremely self-indulgent pointing at Mars and how to the Romans he was also a god of civilization and ideal Roman life, which included him being an agricultural god, so legacy of Mars and child of Ceres. He's grumpy but he's very passionate about plants.

They're all mostly just meant to be background characters fleshing out Camp Jupiter for Deadangelos so they don't have a ton of meat to them, but I like to try and give them all at least something. At the very least a hobby, theme, interest, or relationships. Something along those lines.

#riordanverse #pjo #pjo ocs #my art #Anonymous #ask #deadangelos #YIPPEE mod erratum!#i hold your askblog so preciously it is so delightful to me #also i love drawing Octavian with just. all his hair is sticking straight up #he's an apollo kid his hair is like a plant it's trying to reach the sun #but it makes him constantly look like a mad scientist. which he might as well be

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literallyjustanerd · 7 months

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Clone Wars Hospital AU Headcanons

Forgive me my shameless indulgence, but years of working in a hospital has given me Thoughts™ so just for some stupid fun: Welcome to the GHR: the Grand Hospital of the Republic! Where the Jedi are doctors, the clones are nurses, and the padawans are interns

501st battalion: Paediatrics

212th battalion: Maternity

104th battalion: Gen-Med

327th battalion: Orthopedics

Corrie Guard: Emergency Department

Headcanons below:

Paediatrics: Ward 501, Paediatrician Dr Anakin Skywalker

The ward is split on loving or hating Anakin, there's no in between

He's great with the kids though, the patients love him

Rex is the unit manager who has more experience than Anakin despite Anakin “outranking” him

Has to gently steer Anakin back on track and wearily remind him not to make orders just to spite other doctors

Constant happy music playing in the ward, everyone has fun accessories and brightly coloured scrubs

Fives and Echo are the most senior nurses and also the worst influences

Together they can cannulate a kid without them even noticing but also they're the ones shit-talking the annoying/unhelpful parents in the nurses' station five minutes later

If the kids are extra good, Jesse lets them colour in his tattoo

Dogma and Tup are the new grads - Tup is great with the kids, gentle and always gets them smiling, Dogma makes them cry no matter how hard he tries

Kix is NICU-trained and somehow still remembers every single piece of anatomy and physiology from training. Unparallelled medication knowledge. He’s the one all the student nurses want to be paired with

Ahsoka is on her paediatric rotation under Anakin's instruction

She's the intern the nurses give their feedback and requests to when they don't want to talk to Anakin, because they know Anakin will listen to Ahsoka over them

Maternity: Ward 212, Obstetrician Dr Obi-Wan Kenobi

Obi-Wan works closely with Anakin, refers most of his clients there for their child’s care

Anakin did rotations with him in training, Obi-Wan sometimes forgets that he's now a fully registered doctor and will still try to instruct/encourage him

Obi-Wan has borrowed Ahsoka for days in clinic or in the birthing unit, during which time the nurses will spend their entire shift trying to convince her to come to their unit instead

Obi-Wan is beloved by the nurses because he actually asks them for their input, unlike SOME doctors who just give orders (Anakin)

Did you catch him talking to the unit manager after handover this morning?? Hardcore flirting at 7:05am?? Cody was definitely into it

Cody is one of the most involved unit managers - he’s on the floor with the other nurses most days, always staying overtime and pulling double shifts to help keep things running smoothly

Waxer and Boil are considered bad luck charms - whenever they’re rostered on the same shift, things will always go to shit

God forbid either of them mentions it being “nice” or “quiet” on any given day - that just guarantees that three minutes later they’ll have five labouring people come in actively pushing

The two of them once delivered a baby in the parking lot outside because the mother didn’t make it in time - the parents still bring Numa in to visit sometimes

Their nurses have the best stories, sometimes even more gory than ED

General Medical: Ward 104, Physician Dr Plo Koon

Has Dr Plo been here forever?? Nobody at the hospital can remember a time he didn't work here

The best doctor, agreed by all nurses and patients

Keeps offering free check-ups to the nurses on the ward

Brings snacks for the nurses' station

Wolffe is the scariest unit manager there is - grads and students are terrified of him

The unit is the most efficient in the hospital because of it

God help the pathologist who loses a sample from them. He will not hesitate to riskman you

*Over the PA* “Visiting hours finish at 1900. It is now 1902. Get the fuck out.”

Emergency Department: Corrie Guard, lawless wasteland

Boost, Comet and Sinker knew him in training and are immune to his glare, they use this power to constantly fuck with him

Caffeinated to the point of medical concern

Lectures drunk uni students about the dangers of alcohol before finishing night shift at 0730 and going home to drink wine straight from the bottle

If Fox has to triage one more belligerent idiot demanding immediate attention for a stubbed toe he's going to come through the plastic window and throw hands

Take the turkey sandwich and shut the fuck up

Constant arguments with the ward over whether or not the patients are stable enough for ward transfer

Just take the fucking patient Wolffe, they've got enough to deal with down here, they're bed blocked and there's a line out the door

Orthopedics: Ward 327, Orthopedic surgeon Dr Aayla Secura

They all started in sports science

The most jacked nurses

Group gym sessions before or after shifts

I don't care if you're tired. You're getting out of that bed whether you want to or not. Use it or lose it. Mobilise, bitch.

They’re the ones who keep stealing the bladder scanner from gen med but won’t admit to it

If you witnessed the incident between Dr Secura and the unit manager Bly at the last Christmas party, no you didn't

Bonus:

The Bad Batch are agency nurses, they go where they're needed and everyone hates them because they make more on the hour for it

Weird mish-mash of different skills and background knowledge

Will go eat dinner in their car instead of in the break room with the other nurses

Tech will not stop correcting people on the wards he’s put on, he is not popular for this despite mostly being right

“You can’t nurse-initiate that drug.”

“That phone order is invalid. We need to call the doctor for another.”

“The patient’s blood pressure is 135/82. This is technically outside normal parameters.”

Crosshair openly shit talks the other nurses with his patients because he knows he won’t be there tomorrow to catch the fallout

#this is so self-indulgent but #i can do whatever i want forever #sw tcw #star wars the clone wars #sw tcw headcanons #star wars au #501st shenanigans #212th shenanigans

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wen-kexing-apologist · 11 months

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Bengiyo Queer Cinema Syllabus

For those who are not aware, I have decided to run the gauntlet of @bengiyo’s Queer Cinema Syllabus and have officially started Unit 3: Faith and Religion. The films in Unit 3 are: But I’m a Cheerleader (2000), Prayers for Bobby (2009), Latter Days (2003), Blackbird (2014), The Wise Kids (2011), Henry Gamble’s Birthday Party (2015)

Today I will be writing about

Latter Days (2003) dir. C. Jay Cox

[Run Time: 1:48 , Available: tubi, youtube premium, amazon but you have to get a free trial to something else…I tried watching it…somewhere else but they were updating the movie so I caved and went to tubi, Lang: English]

Summary: Latter Days is a 2003 American romantic comedy-drama film about a gay relationship between a closeted Mormon missionary and his openly gay neighbor. (from wiki)

Cast: * Wes Ramsey as Christian Markelli * Steve Sandvoss as Elder Aaron Davis

___

Content Warnings because I don't really write about those parts of the movie here: this film gets to a dark place, it includes self harm/a suicide attempt, homophobia, medical torture, and a story about being left to die by a parent. Alright, so after sufficiently crying my eyes out binging Eternal Yesterday, I decided there was enough time in the evening to knock out another film from the syllabus. Today’s film was (partially) about Mormons and Mormonism. My own personal understanding of Mormonism does not extend too far beyond The Book of Mormon: The Musical. Which gave me some impression that homosexuality is a sin, but only if acted upon.

Which, is gonna suck for our poor dear Elder Davis, when he and three other Elders roll in to Los Angeles and in to a house across from our beloved booty shorts wearing waiter. The movie seems pretty low budget, and it’s from 2003 so there are some, what I would call cheesy camera effects happening at the beginning, but I still enjoyed the way the world seemed sped up and disorienting when Mr. Mormon lands in Los Angeles from his home in Idaho.

I love our introduction to Christian as an unapologetically queer, slutty man and not only that, but Christian has his sex life together. He remembers who he has slept with, and when, and takes fucking notes and everything. Like, he’s truly impressive.

gif from @bl-bam-beyond

Aaron and Christian make eye contact as every love at first sight story is wont to do, and then realize later they are neighbors. At which point a lot of decently subtle things start to happen. Aaron starts sitting outside to study his scripture in hopes of running in to Christian, Aaron and Christian talk about his mission trip, we get to see the four Elders interact, etc. and these subtler moments were aspects of this film that I deeply appreciated.

Do not get me wrong, this film is absolutely critical of the Mormon church, (there is a scene near the end of the film where Elder Davis is getting excommunicated from the church for being a homosexual), but there are a lot of quite parts they do not say out loud around the intentional isolation that The Church of Latter Day Saints creates by sending their boys on missions trips in the first place.

This film does not, in my opinion, explicitly discuss or state that mission trips really seem to be less to recruit new members and more to make sure their younger members don’t go running off to join the rest of society. The Elders are not allowed to see their family for two years, their families are not allowed to see them, they are not allowed to listen to music, to watch television, all the Elders in that location live together in one house, they share a room so there is no privacy, they go knocking door to door to try to spread the word only to have the doors slammed repeatedly in their face. These tactics exist to make these boys homesick, to make the outer world seem hostile, to bring the Mormon roommates closer together when the outsiders push them away. But the implication is there.

I have to share the quote that comes with this gif: "You're gonna come in to my house and tell me God hates homosexuals?" || "And the French!"

And actually, the thing I appreciate the most about this commentary is the fact that the Elders are aware of this, and that they are allowed to be young men. I loved that one Elder was talking to Aaron about how mission trips were designed to be difficult, and that you can tell he is generally disinterested in spreading The Word. This Elder views his mission trip as the last major hoop he has to jump through before he can marry his girlfriend and “finally nail her”. Horniness fuels his motivation to get through this mission.

These “Elders” (and I put quotes here not to strip them of their titles but to point out the irony) are nineteen or twenty years old. They are fucking gross. Their apartment is decorated like boys live there, with bean bag chairs and all, and they fart on each other, and wrestle, and bite their bedframes to try to stop themselves from jerking off. Hell, when they first move in, Christian mistakes them for a frat house. They are homophobic, and throw slurs around, but they look incredulous at the mere thought of consuming alcohol.

The first time Aaron is faced with the potential to give in to his gay thoughts, he tells Christian he hasn’t done anything. When Christian says it doesn’t have to mean anything and Aaron says “yes it does”, he asks “my first time can just be a little fun for you?” like Aaron was fully planning on having sex with Christian. I like that Aaron, as a young man is going 0 to 100 with the physical intimacy.

I often have difficulty with romance stories in movie formats because I have to push past how quickly two characters fall in love. Which is the case here that Christian is confessing his love for Aaron after they have interacted like…five times total. But, I appreciate the ways they show us that Christian and Aarong would be good for each other. We see them being absolute nerds, saying movie quotes to each other. I love that we know Aaron is going to break the rules and eventually give in to Christian, just based on the fact that he gives Christian his first name. Which he is not supposed to use when he’s on his mission trip.

gif from @bl-bam-beyond

I am not a religious person, so I don’t usually pay attention to whether or not a film that critics religion is going to take a hard atheistic turn or not. But I actually thought it was compassionate, kind, and in keeping with the nature of like, religion as spirituality, versus religion as control and fear tactic. I like that all these little coincidences happened, that Christian saw Aaron through his taxi cab window, that Aaron talked to and comforted Lila (Christians’ boss) when she was having a bad day and she gave him her card and told him to come to her restaurant for a free meal, that when Christian is looking for Aaron his random doodles end up being the phone number he needs to call, that Julie in stealing entries from Christian’s diary for her song allowed Aaron to hear it in the facility his parents put him in and return to LA, and that Aaron and Christian were reunited because Aaron cashed in on that free meal from Lila.

And so too with the man Christian meets who is dying of AIDS, how he touches him and only sees snow. How he chalks that up to Christian being a blank person, shallow. The same way that Aaron has described Christian “there is nothing, nothing about you, Christian that isn’t skin deep”. And how we see Christian recoil from the touch, from the words ‘snow’ (and we will come to find out later, why that is the case).

Like these can all be coincidences, or they could be chalked up to fate, or a higher power, or whatever you want. Latter Days does not reject the idea of religion, it leaves room for a religious, higher power explanation to exist. Aaron and Aaron’s faith, the way he views the world, the importance that his values hold to him do still impact Christian. I don’t know how much he believes in God, but when Aaron calls him shallow, he takes that to heart, he really thinks about it, he realizes that what has been drawing him to Aaron is the depth, the conversations, they aren’t just gonna fuck.

Not that I think monogamy needs to happen, or that Christian needs to have calmed down the sluttiness. Just, that in a film about religion and its intersections with sexuality, when you are going to be critical of a Church that has done very very real harm. That there is a mutual exchange here. Christian gets more depth as a result of meeting Aaron and Aaron (eventually) gets freedom as a result of meeting Christian.

BL Side Note

I also need to say, since this syllabus is technically supposed to act as a lead up to BLs, that Latter Days has the sponge bath trope! Aaron wipes down Christian’s body with a washcloth after he faints from seeing blood. The sexual tension rises between Aaron and Christian, until they are about a fraction of a second away from kissing, and Aaron bails.

For/By/About

Gay Trifecta.

The director of Latter Days, C. Jay Cox is a gay man and a (former) fifth generation Mormon.

This film did not hit me in the emotional place where I would normally say the films I rate as For The Queers go. But, this is a deeply personal film for the screen writer and Director who is gay and therefore it feels like it should be for gays. And, in addition I feel like they were enough casual references to things that don’t get full explanations that would read and be understood by a queer audience but maybe not by a straight audience. I think there are dimensional portrayals of the queer characters and they don’t succumb to stereotypes, and for those reasons I would categorize it as being for us.

Favorite Moment

The post-sex conversation that Aaron and Christian have, where Aaron asks if Christian has ever had the experience of being cut off from everything, and we finally get some more of Christian’s backstory. Now, like I said above, there are some understated aspects of this film that I do think are really smart. Aaron calls Christian shallow at one point, and my first thought was “oh honey, you are wrong” because of how Christian spoke to Aaron earlier on in the movie about being desperate to get away from home. Sure, Christian is generally now, emotionally reserved and has some growing to do. But, Aaron vastly underestimates the weight behind a gay man saying that he left home and never looked back. Because Aaron had a good relationship to his family (before he came out).

If the monologue wasn’t multiple paragraphs I would probably put the whole speech as my favorite quote. But, fundamentally what makes this scene for me is that Christian is telling Aaron this, while they are both naked in bed. Aaron has just had sex for the first time, and there is just this level of casual inclusion of nudity. I am generally an advocate for increasing the inclusion of non-sexual nudity on screen. I feel like people tend to spend a lot more causal time naked than they do sexual time naked, and I think Latter Days did a really phenomenal job of shifting between sexual nudity and casual nudity in the same setting, with the same characters, at the same time.

When Aaron and Christian first enter the airport hotel, they are shedding their clothing with the intention of having sex. The scene is charged with sexual tension, shirts and pants are coming off as fast as they can, every movement brings them closer to the bed. But after they are done, Aaron, still naked, slides across Christian’s naked body to grab a watch off the floor, and Christian holds his leg so he won’t slide off the bed. It’s just comfortable. When Christian is talking to Aaron about his experience of being left in a snowstorm by his father, they are nude because they are being laid bare. I don’t know if I can describe it properly, but I just love that this really important conversation, where Aaron is learning that Christian understands far far better than Aaron ever could have thought about what you risk losing when you are queer, happens with literally everything out in the open.

Favorite Quote

“It’s early November, the same as now, and there's this storm rolling in. My dad was so determined that sissy boy was going to kill something. Snow came at us from all sides. The air, the sky, the ground they all became the same and horrible screaming white and I thought ‘we’re gonna be OK, right?” And then I saw my father’s eyes and they were that same white…and that’s when he did it.” “He did what?” “Ran.”

This quote comes from part of the monologue I mentioned in my Favorite Scene.

Score

8/10

Latter Days is an 8/10 for me for a few reasons, the acting was not always the best, it was clear they did not have either the time or the budget for perfection. There were stutters that read far more like actors forgetting their lines than they did like natural pauses. I also was not thrilled with the death fake out. Like, I am very much glad we did not see Aaron self-harm, and that some of the other torture he went through gets dampened a bit by dream sequence shenanigans. I figured that they were not actually going to kill Aaron off, but they do spend quite a lot of time letting the audience think he is dead, and I am not super appreciative of that.

#queer cinema syllabus #bengiyo queer cinema syllabus #latter days #latter days (2003)#unit 3 #unit 3: faith and religion

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interdimensionaldrey-blog · 26 days

Text

That one is in Danger, So This one has awoken...

So i figured I'd cash in some of my street cred as #TLOUBestie of @justagalwhowrites and post my playlist here. Making playlists is a bit of an artistic hobby of mine, I used to DJ for an internet radio station in the more wild west era of internet forums before social media. I really enjoy putting together music that vibes with itself and that transitions well.

Anyways, this being my art blog it seems like the prime place to lay out my thoughts.

So! This concept had been in my mind for some time, but when Kit told me she was writing the hospital scene of #Lavender, as her muse, I decided to put this together for the occasion.

All the songs in the playlist can really serve to fit anywhere in the violent protector narrative, its designed to make a continuous loop, but here Im going to try and paint but a single, generic way of experiencing the playlist, if one is in need of some inspiration.

The playlist

1: I.Dogma

■The track: OKAY BEAR WITH ME. Pretend youve never heard of the famous video game DOOM or its excellent 2016 remake. This track still has some powerful ambience and chilling voice work. For the sake of our story well take this completely out of context and adopt DOOM SLAYER for our subject.

●The Concept: So there is a being. Its violence and deeds are legendary, enough so that the history of its actions are recorded and passed down amongst others with whispers of fear. The terror people with knowledge of this being have is matched only by their reverence for what it accomplished. The Doomslayer.

2: The End is the Beginning is the End

■The Track: okay so... ugh. I hate this version of the song.

This song was originally written about Batman for the ill fates early 2000s Shumaker version of the film with primetime-medical-drama-star George Clooney... it was pretty bad. Uma Thurman was the key preformance in that film

I digress, ive had the original in my music catalouge for some time and I love it. It has a heavy, frantic, snare heavy rock beat layered with twisting guitar chorsa, and haunting vocals singing about some legendary weirdo trying to change a world it hates.

BUT THAT VERSION ISNT AVAILABLE ON SPOTIFY. 😤😤

The version on spotify sounds like their grandma bought them a distortion pedal for the first time. Im guessing its licensing issues but still, not my fav.

●The Concept: Here we have the being as remembered by legend. The stories people tell, the traumas others remember. The Doom Slayer is larger than life, an inspiration to some and a warning to others. To believe his existence by the tales of those who know of him one might almost think the doom slayer a lively one, capable of anything.

3. The Beginning is the End is the Beginning

■The Track: The yang to the ying of these songs here we have the same or similar lyrics... but drawn out into a sluggish, desperate, cynical tone. There is an air of dread in the sounds and low frequencies of this piece. The vocals are almost sinister in nature as if making fun of the subject of the song.

●The Concept: Here we have the reality of the legend. The stories arent false persay, maybe a bit embellished. But the reality is the Doom Slayer lives a life of silent suffering, having entered a state torpor for whatever reason. There is currently balance and they dont think, simply idle in their sludge of an existence. Perhaps the giant sleeps beneath mountains or the dragon in a volcano, maybe a legendary killer lives a quiet life of smuggling and emotionlessly burning the bodies of euthanized children... days only seperated by drug induced nights of dreamless sleep.

Whatever the circumstance its beloved is not with it and not within reach. The quiet acceptance fills its life with a void, but this void balances the fire asleep within.

4: Counting Bodies Like Sheep to the Rhythm of the War Drums

■The Track: An acid bath of sounds and beats that build on top of each other with a chaotic and violent sound. Dread and fear become present in the ominous marching sound of the melody as a sweet voice begins singing sinister reasaurances of ownership and protection. Its clear the voice is passionate about its care of the subject, but its motives are questionable. This isnt a song about the healthy kind of protection, its the kind of protection that doesnt ask the protectee if they want to be protected.

●The Concept: The balance is broken.

Perhaps it was a flood of memories. Perhaps a rumor of the beloveds location. Perhaps another who is like the beloved, but is not, is thrust into the arms of the doom slayer. Maybe even there is a distant cry for help... real or imagined.

Whatever the reason, there is an awakening. A growing pulse, the fanning flames, the start of an avalanche.

5. Betrayal/Forgiveness

■The Track: Apocalyptica is a electric string quartet that does a lot of covers of death metal songs, with a focus on melody and showing off the actual complexity of the music. This track, is hard to describe. It makes me imagine two Bucks fighting with their antlers, ant colonies going to war, lions hunting... there is fury and power. In the controlled chaos order emerges in a raspy melody laid amongst the sounds of ripping and tearing.

●The Concept: In the time spent in Torpor confines have grown around the being. Perhaps its the mountains of stone and vines, layers of obsidian hardnened atop. Maybe our doom slayer is in a city or a facility, imprisoned or exiled. Wherever they are they are not free to pursue their beloved, and so there is a purging.

Tragically in this stage it may not be the ones who deserve it who feel the wrath of the doom slayer simply being in the way at the wrong time. Nevertheless the way is opened and perhaps there is mourning, but in the end there is nothing that can contain this one when its beloved is in danger.

6: One Way Or Another

■The Track: The original is such a catchy, poppy, almost sarcastic hit that its easy to not concider what the songs about. But slow it down? Drop the key to a minor and give it that thriller movie trailer sound? The songs meaning becomes much creepier.

●The Concept: Awoken and no longer restrained there is a calm in the storm. The being takes a moment to reaffirm its intents and desires. Its one purpose renewed fills its being and it prepares internally, fully dedicating its entire existence to the one thing that still makes it burn.

7: Chokka

■The Track: More Apocalyptica, borrowing on the same kind of tense sounds theyre so good at making with an electric cello.

The song has a sense foreboding about it layered with a high pitched piano riff. It manages to say so much without a single word and its beautiful for what it does.

●The Concept: The hunt begins. The doomslayer sets out after whatever awokened it, following a lead, returning to a location, listening to the cries. Whoever you are, wherever you are... it is coming for you. You have taken the beloved, you have harmed the beloved... you are a threat to the beloved. It will find the information, it will believe you when you scream out what it wants to hear. Closer and closer it nears with the first targets if its ire in sight.

8. Die MF Die

■The Track: Ugh. I wish I had better things to say about this track. It was so fucking popular in the military, every fucking daddy issue, toxic masculinity, overcompensating, gun toting, proud boy, soldier cuck wanted to play this song as they rolles out the gate to live out their murdee fantasies.

That aside, the song does a decent job capturing the almost... joyful... demeanor of a predator who has caught its quarry.

●The Concept: The first real conflict. Whatever our being has been hunting it has found a quarry. This is the time for violence and the being is intimately familiar with the process.

9. Dirt Room

■The Track: Blue October who hurt you? This song feels so personal to me. When I listen to it I almost feel bad, like im witnessing something intimate such as seeing somebody else in a hard therapy session.

This songs overall story is a revenge fantasy about burying somebody alive. Id complement the metaphors in this song but, ahhhh Im fairly certain everything said is quite literal.

●The Concept: Theres more to our being than unkempt violence. Information is valuable and will be the way to the beloved. Here we find the insane mind of the doom slayer open and his hate laid bare like a set of tools working at the next barrier lying between them and their goal. May god have mercy on those in its path who survive the fight to be questioned by the being.

10: The Only Thing They Fear is You

■The Track: Spotify licensing agreements strike again. The only thing available on spotify are shittty covers. And sure while they do a good job of playing the song on guitar the problem is the original is preformed by a computer. It blends sounds not possible with acoustic instruments.

I fucking love the original so much. Some of the heaviest, intense, melodic, acid rock tracks ive ever heard. The only version that truly does this song justice is the original:

youtube

●The Concept: The climax of the encounter so to speak. The search is over and the beloved has been found. There are no more questions as to where it needs to go, there is only the question of what is in its way, and the answer the being brings is incredible violence. They will resist and fight with all their might, but ultimately they are all aware of the fulity of their efforts and when the mist of blood settles there is only the open path of the doom slayer as it continues forward, unyieilding.

11: Light the City Up

■The Track: You know theres not a whole lot of tracks i can find that really embody the idea "Id burn down the whole city to keep you safe" but this song comes pretty close.

Fun fact, this song isnt on the soundtrack for Spiderman:Across the Universe because production of that movie was a mess, but this is the song played in the giant chase sequence in the spider HQ between a the different spidermen

●The Concept: The story blurs in the blood lust as the being continues his conquest burning down everything in its path. There is literally nothing it wouldnt destroy to keep the one it loves safe and those still foolish enough to stop it begin to learn why the legends were written in the first place.

Here the brush strokes of my story grow broader as therea less form to the songs and their intent. The story begins to swing more wildly in its respective directions as the being desperation grows with the beloved just outside of his grip.

12. Stompbox

■The Track: You can rely on the Qemists to give you some good frantic chase music. This track has no vocals aside from one desperate scream thats overlaid in a few spaces. Still this song gives me the feel of a hostile confrontation at high intensity.

●The Concept: The home stretch. The recovery of the beloved. Reaching the goal. The accumulates momentum of our being finally reaches its moment of critical mass and barrels through the finish line. Perhaps this the final guard, the boss of the ememies... maybe its a final test or a desperate dash to saftey. Whatever it is, it does not stop the being.

13. Tension 2

■The Track: I love me some blue man group. Following the flow of chase music this track pulls out all the stops in portraying anxiety inducing stress and tension. Beats of different speeds overlaid with fast paced bass rhythms blends with the patter of drums.

●The concept: Take the money and run. The being has what it came for. The beloved is honored, the balance is restored... but now is the time to get out. Get the beloved safe. Now is the time to avoid the crashing waves of consequences that swing in from all sides to try and once again seperate what has been rejoined.

14: Rip and Tear

■The Track: More acid rock from Mick Gordon. Another one of those songs that manages to push such vvid imagery without ever saying a word. Theres a confidence in the sound of this track, but also an underlying doubt and anxiety. High pitched siren like sounds mix with a heartbeat like pattern.

●The Concept: Gutteral tones convey the desperate and intense violence of fighting with every once of being. Tooth, nail, knife, fist and spit, this is the last stand of a cornered animal. The full fury of the legend is brought forth in events which new mythologys will be written about by whats left of those close enough to behold its power.

15: Blahhhh blah blah. "Stone Men Song"

■The Track: So this is the end credits song that plays after Jorah and Tyrion are jumped by the stone men and Tyrion appears to sink into the depths of the river, his hands bound. The screen cuts to black and this song plays.

To me it conveys the horror of a situation you cant control and that has gone horribly wrong.

●The Concept: This is not a comedy but a tragedy. Despite whatever best efforts and good intentions of the being, it finds itself in a situation it cannot control. The consequences of its actions have accumulated to a point tbhat in its horror it finds itself ripped from its goals.

16: Ebla

■The Track: A fusion blend of rock beats with synthetic classical overlays and a choir singing in latin. Its not quite hopeful but not quite defeated. Its a somber song that echoes the beauty of love that can create such violence as well as a reminder of its costs.

●The Concept: The ode to the doomslayer. Whatever end its story met, if an end at all and not simply the start of the next cycle, it now once again rests in silent suffering. Its purpose fuffilled and perhaps its time cut short, for whatever reason this chapter ends. The night grows silent and the only light is the glow of the smoldering ruins the doomslayer has left in its wake.

-------

Awww look at you. You sat through all of that! Thanks!

I hope you enjoyed that and that this playlist helps you fuel your own creative art.

BONUS

If you genuinely enjoyed this playlist and want more ive got good news! I have an extended version of the playlist that kit has assured me is "Extended like Lord of the rings, not Star wars"

So for sitting through all that, youve unlocked it!

#playlist #lavender #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #writing prompt #inspiration #music story #protector #music #TLOU Bestie #Spotify #Youtube

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