#should be wary that the surgery worked the first time?

[rinshairandthoughts]

It also sounds like he does not understand what addiction is.

Like he thinks enjoying and appreciating something means you are addicted to it. By that logic even some everyday activities are addictive. Joy does not mean addiction. We are very much allowed to enjoy being alive. Enjoying being able to function as an adult for the first time in years, does not mean you are addicted to the medication. Just because you do not want to stop, does not mean you are not able to stop.

The other day I told a friend of mine that I never forget to take my ADHD meds because I fucking love my ADHD meds. I'm in my late 30s, I didn't finally get a diagnosis and meds until less than two years ago, and they have changed my entire life.

And he raised his eyebrow at me. We'd been discussing addictive medications a few minutes before, like the Tramadol I finally got from the pain specialist to take once a week or so to give me a break from my chronic pain, so I reassured him that methylpenidate (Ritalin/Concerta) is not addictive (at least not in people with ADHD).

His response? To raise his eyebrow even harder and say "Well it sure SOUNDS like it's addictive!"

And I had to explain to this man - who works in a healthcare related job by the way - that just because medication makes you feel good and helps you, just because you look forward to taking it, that doesn't make it addictive or dangerous. And he wasn't convinced.

The simple fact that I was excited to take a daily pill that has literally changed my life, after decades of fighting to get that medication, made him think I shouldn't be taking it so often. That it must inherently be dangerous.

I'm not even in America, but I'm pretty sure this attitude began there and then spread over here to Europe. This Puritan idea of "if something feels good, you must beware of it. Pleasure is dangerous, it is sinful, it is addiction, it is evil."

I know too many people who subconsciously believe that pleasure = addictive = dangerous = bad. Joy is a slippery slope to hell.

So here is your reminder for today that you don't need to be afraid of feeling good. If something improves your life, use it. Even if it is addictive - learn what that addiction means, whether the addiction is inherently dangerous or not, and whether the benefits outweigh the drawbacks and risks.

My ADHD meds are, in fact, not addictive. But I will take them every day because they make my life orders of magnitude easier. I will enjoy them every time I take them.

My tramadol is addictive. I will still take it. I will keep it on a schedule to avoid becoming addicted, primarily because addiction in this case would mean reduced effectiveness. But I am not afraid of my painkillers. They are life changing.

Take your meds, everyone. Don't let anyone scare you away from doing something that improves your life.

[marta-diablo]

Any small child catching sight of Noel Fielding of The Mighty Boosh in his clown gear would vow never to go to the circus again. Fielding’s torso is encased in a green felt globe, his hands protruding helplessly from the bottom. From beneath lurid make-up, he flashes a deeply unsettling grin, as if auditioning for the role of a psychopathic killer in Test Card: The Movie. “I’m just popping out for some coffee,” he deadpans. “Does anybody want anything?”

His Booshmate Julian Barratt, who currently looks like the victim of back-alley gender reassignment surgery, brushes his new blond tresses away from his face and sighs. “What a job, eh?”

When the duo decided to pose as the pair from the 1970s TV test card, it didn’t take long to decide who should play which part. If you want make-up and a manic grin, Fielding’s your man. He arrives at the studio resembling a time-travelling glam-rock star: pointy boots, snug red trousers, tight T-shirt, pendant shaped like a Flying Vee guitar, alarming bone structure. In one episode of their TV series, Barratt tells Fielding, “Look at you - feather cut, the pointy features. Put you in the 1950s, you’d be imprisoned for being a witch. They’d lock you in a trunk!” He’s probably right.

Barratt carries himself like someone trying to elude capture. It’s this wary unease that defined his performance as misanthropic style journalist Dan Ashcroft in Nathan Barley, Chris Morris’s Channel 4 comedy series. Morris wanted Dan to be someone who “wasn’t really comfortable in his skin”. I ask Barratt if Dan is a version of his own personality and he looks mildly wounded. “Not really, no. There were elements of me - it’s sometimes painful to be around people who are annoying - but Dan was a bit of a tit. I didn’t really like him.”

The Mighty Boosh have already completed two successful BBC series and are currently working on a third. Fielding, 33, thinks comedy is about allowing people to feel young again. “When you’re really laughing, you feel like a little kid and nothing matters. Everyone’s trying to feel as free as they were when they were kids.” Barratt, 38, seems to regard comedy’s inner workings as an imponderable mystery. “You still don’t know why you’re funny, do you?” Fielding says. “Not really,” Barratt sighs.

After almost a decade of working together, the pair are obviously close. When the camera’s not pointed in their direction, they huddle on the studio sofa in earnest conference punctuated by giggles. There is much to discuss: “We’ve got so many things we want to do and we need a basket to put them all in,” explains Barrett. “A structural basket.”

Fielding has a different metaphor. “We know when we’ve got enough ideas. If we haven’t and we try to write, it’s a bit weird. It’s like loading a gun and not having enough bullets.”

They first met in 1996, when Fielding went to see Barratt doing stand-up in High Wycombe. There had been less auspicious nights. Barratt recalls, “I ran off stage at my first gig. Halfway through it, I forgot my lines and didn’t know what to do, so I just ran out of the building down towards a lake. I was going to throw myself in, but the compere came out and said, 'No, it’s going well, come back and finish the gig!’ ”

The two share enthusiasms (Captain Beefheart, Monty Python, Mr Benn) and Barratt launched their collaboration by asking Fielding if he wanted to write the new Goodies. “We wanted to be a gang rather than a sketch troupe,” he says. From the start, their combination of absurdist wit, far-fetched narratives and bizarre musical interludes was the stuff of cult success. Audiences either entered their world and found them the funniest thing around, or they didn’t get them at all. “We used to have to convince people we were funny,” Barratt says, “and it didn’t always work.”

It did, however, work well enough to earn them nominations or awards at three consecutive Edinburgh festivals. A radio series followed and they finally made it to the nation’s TV screens in 2004. Earlier this year, they returned to touring. They get offers all the time, but having got this far on their own idiosyncratic terms, they have no desire to work according to anyone else’s.

“If Tim Burton called up and said, 'I’m making a film about two white Americans who go and become Red Indians’, I’m sure we’d jump at the chance,” Fielding says. “But if it’s, 'Do you want to be in this sitcom that’s a bit like Coupling?’ I’d rather shoot myself.”

When did you first find something really funny?

Noel Fielding: My nan used to look after me in the summer holidays and she had a cat with one eye. It used to walk into walls and tables. I used to think it was hilarious. It was a slapstick cat.

Who are your comedy inspirations?

Julian Barrett: I loved the Goodies’ sense of adventure.

NF: The Young Ones was the first thing I really liked. I was so young I didn’t really know what students were. I just thought they were some men who lived in a house.

What’s not funny?

JB: Cancer?

NF: It can be, though, can’t it?

JB: Yeah, sometimes a tumour will make me laugh.

When did you last laugh?

NF: I laugh all the time. I’m slightly simple. I went to a festival in Cambridge last weekend and there were men standing on a wheelchair and getting their friends to push them down a muddy hill and really hurting themselves. One of them had a fur coat, a dress underneath, massive boots and a witch’s hat. It was so stupid that everyone was laughing at them. It was quite freeing, actually.

What’s the funniest thing that’s ever happened to you?

NF: Once I got stuck in a suit of armour. I had to be a knight in Al Murray’s show for two minutes. I had a gig afterwards and there was no one there backstage, so I couldn’t get out of it. I had to run next door and do the gig in a suit of armour. Al thought it was the best thing ever. “You should do that every night! It’s brilliant!” he said.

What’s the secret of comedy?

JB: The secret of comedy is don’t grow up. That’s why some comedians are a nightmare, because they never grow up.

Tell us a joke

NF: You stop hearing proper jokes when you’re a comedian. I’m always slightly disappointed by real jokes. There’s a lot of pressure to understand them and laugh at them. Occasionally we come up with a proper joke by accident and we almost apologise.

· The Mighty Boosh debut live DVD is released on November 13.

x

[wh3nturtlesfly]

Whumpee needing emergency, improvised surgery in a hotel room. Medic caretaker trying their best to save whumpee’s life.

No pressure :)

Three knocks. The first loud, the second forced, desperate even, and the final no more than a tap. Hero sprung up from their bed. No one was supposed to know where they were. The agency wasn’t scheduled to contact them until the morning. With a certain wariness, Hero shrugged off their sheets and padded to the door.

They worked to slide away the chair placed in front of the threshold. Having been given a mission out of their usual jurisdiction, the hotel room was their temporary home, and unfortunately lacking when it came to security. Hero slid aside several locks and tried to ignore the racing scenarios on their head. They undid the triggers they had strung on their own, and leaning forward took a glance through the peephole. Nothing. Though upon closer inspection a shadow cast along the hallway. Wavering.

Hero went against their better judgment and opened the door. A figure stumbled through and as such the Hero jumped back. They were hunched over, a dark coat wrapped around their shoulders as they nearly fell into the room. Hero fumbled for a lightswitch, hands up in a guarded position. Ready for a fight. They tensed as light fell upon the room, revealing a face they could never forget. Villain.

Every instinct triggered to life within the Hero’s core, anticipation running through their nerves. Their enemy did not step forward. Hobbled was more accurate. They swayed back and forth, only leaving the Hero with more questions. Villain looked drunk. Villain had to be drunk. But even then, how had they found Hero’s location? Why had they come here?

A single word fell from Villain’s lips, more of a rasp than anything.

“Please-” they said, the word trickling off into a shaky breath. Hero raised an eyebrow, wary and somewhat irked, until they saw Villain’s hand come away from their torso. The coat had hidden it beneath its dark fabric, but finally Hero saw the paleness to Villain’s cheeks, their drooping eyelids, and the hand at their side, slick with blood.

Hero moved before they could think. Against every impulse they rushed to Villain’s side, an arm wrapped around their shoulder, guiding them to the bed. They sat Villain on the edge and moved to flick on every lamp, suddenly aware of how shallow Villain’s breathing was. Hero took in the sight of their nemesis, no sign of fight in their limbs. They hadn’t come to spark a battle, this couldn’t be a trap- could it? Hero pulled the coat from Villain’s shoulders where the white shirt beneath was soaked in red. They lifted the shirt and tensed to find a large gash beneath, running the length of Villain’s torso. A curse fell from their lips.

“Who?” They said, already reaching for a clean towel. Pristine white, but not for long.

Villain grit their teeth. Their eyes squeezed tight and they suppressed a cry as Hero repositioned them to lay on their back, head propped by a few pillows. “S-superhero,” they managed to gasp. “Got too close, ‘m sorry.”

Millions of scenarios ran through Hero’s head. A fight, sparked on whether or not Villain had wanted it to. What weapon had caused such a wound? And more, what had driven Superhero to create so much damage? They had always been unrelenting in their methods, but this? Villain could die- and the Hero wasn’t supposed to care. They shouldn’t be afraid. They shouldn’t help. They should be basking in victory, but the blood-soaked figure beneath them gave another pained cry, and both fear and rage coursed through the Hero. Villain couldn’t die.

Villain wouldn’t die.

“I think you’re going to need stitches.” Hero had already moved to retrieve the first aid kit they were required to keep on hand. It shouldn’t have sent anxiety flooding through their veins. They had performed the procedure dozens of times. Only Hero had only ever done so on themself.

A small cloth remained at their side. Hero retrieved it, offering it to the Villain. “Here, bite down hard. I’ll be careful, but it's going to hurt.” They cursed themselves for lacking any kind of painkiller or anesthesia. The first aid kit was plentiful, but not close to true hospital care by any means.

They allowed Villain the time to gather themselves and took the same time to prepare their own mind. With a new towel, they cleaned the wound the best they could. Needle and thread sterilized Hero took a steadying breath. They tried not to look at Villain who shivered, pain showing through the crease in their brow. Time was limited.

The first contact sent a jolt through Villain and they bit down hard to keep from moving. Unknown to the Hero, they hated anything sharp, especially needles. Eyes shut tight, they tried to ignore the pain, even as the hot sensation burned every nerve. Each prick was a shock. Villain grimaced, hot tears flowing against their will. “Keep breathing,” they heard the Hero say. It was distant, as if behind a wall of glass.Villain tried to latch onto their voice. In and out. Breathe.

Seconds felt like hours. Minutes, centuries. Sweat gathered on the Hero’s brow, eyes narrowed with each stitch. They hated to see Villain shudder every time the needle passed through, though it served as the steady reassurance that they were still alive. About halfway done, Hero kept moving.

A few more stitches in Hero felt the Villain’s body begin to slacken. At first it seemed as if they were accustomed to the feeling now, fear fading slightly. On closer inspection they saw Villain’s eyes drooped, panicked breaths slowing. “No,” Hero tried to hide the frantic tone of their voice, “Villain, keep breathing okay? I need you to stay awake. I know it hurts, but you’ve got to stay awake for me.”

A whimper fell from Villain’s lips. Their fists that had clenched tight now loosened. They were trying, Hero could see it in their eyes, but Villain was fading quickly.

They rushed to finish, hands fumbling. Villain’s pale face gazed upon them lazily. Tears welled in the corners of their eyes, enough to flow down their cheeks and onto the pillows. The bed was stained red, a reminder of the little time Hero had. Faster.

Relief flooded their senses the moment Hero tied off the suture with a surgeon’s knot only to be replaced with dread. Villain’s eyes had slipped shut.

“Hey,” they discarded the needle and thread, “Hey.” Villain’s lips were parted, cloth forgotten. Their chest rose and fell, and yet it wasn’t enough. Hero needed to see those eyes. Needed to hear that the Villain was okay.

“It’s all okay now, I’ve stitched the wound. You’ll be okay, I promise.”

Hero kept their hand on Villain's chest. They sat at their side and watched every breath. They would make it. “Please make it,” Hero whispered, gaze trained on Villain. So at peace, they had never seen their nemesis so still. “Please don’t go.”

Hero stayed at Villain’s side the rest of the night, trained on shallow breaths and a slow beating heart. They prayed that in the morning, the Villain would wake.

[disillusioneddanny]

This Love is Ours

You never know what people have up their sleeves Ghosts from your past gonna jump out at me Lurking in the shadows with their lip gloss smiles But I don't care, 'cause right now, you're mine And you'll say Don't you worry your pretty little mind People throw rocks at things that shine And life makes love look hard The stakes are high, the water's rough But this love is ours - Ours by Taylor Swift

Jazz Fenton stared down at her girlfriend, her arms crossed over her chest. This was the third time tonight that Steph had tried to sneak out of the house and Jazz was just about to strangle the woman. 

“For god’s sake, Stephenie! You’re a nurse! You should know better than anyone that you need to be on bed rest right now!” Jazz shouted, walking towards where her girlfriend was carefully and struggling to put on her Spoiler suit. 

“It’s just a gunshot wound,” Steph mumbled, nearly falling over as she tried to put on her pants only for her Amazon of a girlfriend to haul her up in her arms bridal style. 

“It was three gunshot wounds, and you’re lucky that none of them hit anything serious, now you’re going to lay down like a good girl,” Jazz told her, walking back to her girlfriend’s bed and carefully setting her down. Jazz and Steph had been dating for about a year now. It had been a year of ups and downs as Jazz learned about life outside of Gotham City and what cursed herself with getting involved with vigilantes yet again. She had thought she left that behind when her brother had moved to Metropolis for school and Team Phantom broke up. 

But apparently, Jazz just had the best luck in the world and found herself involved yet again. Slightly, not really. It definitely wasn’t the same this time around. Now she was just dating a vigilante and dealing with the fallout. She had told Steph she wanted nothing to do with the vigilante aspect and thankfully her girlfriend had been okay with it—after she finished reeling over the fact that Jazz had figured her out so fast.

It had been their first actual date that Jazz had told Steph that she knew, and Steph had taken about ten minutes to reboot before demanding that Jazz tell her how she figured it out. But how could she not? The first time they met had been when Jazz had started her internship at the Gotham Hospital. She had been torn for so long between being a professor, a therapist, a lawyer, and a surgeon and surprising everyone. Apparently, everyone had made bets on either her being a therapist or a professor.

Which, understandable, as she had a tendency of being a know it all. But it had ultimately been Frostbite who had inspired her to become a surgeon, to be able to heal others, to help those who had been hurt. Plus all the years helping Danny definitely went into play. So there she was in her first surgery, ready to throw up when she looked over at Nurse Brown who was giving her a wary look. Jazz had been nervous as hell the entire operation and as soon as the operation had ended, Jazz had run out of the doors as fast as she could and heaved. 

Nurse Brown had been right behind her, rubbing her back and giving her soothing words to comfort her. Afterward, she had taken Jazz down to the cafeteria and gotten her crackers and a Sprite that she slowly munched and sipped on while she asked her about her life. 

It was then that Jazz had her clocked. Steph was definitely more than just a nurse. She had watched the way she sat, ensuring that she saw all exits in the lunch hall. She saw the way she kept her shoulders tense, her eyes narrowed, and how she followed each of Jazz’s movements. It all reminded her of herself, of Valerie, Danny, Sam, and Tucker, and how they had all been the exact same way. 

Jazz had managed to learn how to ignore it, how to be more subtle about keeping an eye on everything. Besides, nowadays she relied more on her extra abilities due to her liminality. It turned out that having a mother working around ectoplasm while pregnant and then growing up around ectoplasm and going to the infinite realms as often as she did, meant the radiation would turn you a little less human and a little more ghostly. 

Not that Jazz minded, the super strength, the enhanced senses, the speed, they were a major plus, especially living in a place like Gotham where there was danger at every corner. She wasn’t as fast as say, the Flash, or as fast as even Danny but she was definitely faster than the average human. Her strength was nothing to laugh at either, while it wasn’t ghost-level strength, she could bench press a thousand pounds with no problem. Which was beyond enough in Jazz’s opinion. 

Relying on her liminal gifts, though, kept her at a constant advantage, she had Steph figured out way too quickly and easily. Once she had pegged her as a vigilante, she had realized she was Spoiler as the blond hair matched. This wasn’t her first rodeo, unfortunately. 

“Three gunshot wounds, one in the right shoulder, one in the thigh, and one in the abdomen, I know, I was there, I got them,” Steph said and let out a huff as she slammed her hands against the mattress and glared at the ceiling. “I’m bored."

“And going and fighting crime in spandex and Kevlar sounds like a fun time to you?” Jazz asked, arching a brow as she sat down beside her girlfriend and pushed the hair out of her face. “Rest, please. I don’t want to have to redo your stitches again,” she said softly. 

Steph sighed and held Jazz’s hand to her face. “I’m sorry, I’m making you worry again, aren’t I?” She asked and Jazz just gave her a sad smile and nodded. 

“I thought I lost you, you know. When Alfred called me and said you had been shot, I don’t think I’ve ever run that fast in my life,” she said with a laugh. She moved her hand from cupping Steph’s cheek and ran her hands through her hair. 

“I know,” Steph said with a chuckle and then winced. “I believe one of the first things you told me after saying you knew I was Spoiler was that you wouldn’t do house calls and I’d have to find someone else to stitch me up. But there you were, shoving both Alfred and Dr. Thompkins out of the way to fix me up yourself.”

Jazz let out a sniff. “I can’t have you dying on me, now can I?” Steph caught her hand and threaded their fingers together and pressed a kiss to Jazz’s knuckles. 

“No I suppose not. But that explanation to Bruce was not a fun one, you know. I still don’t know how you even got in the Batcave,” she said, furrowing her brow. Jazz just gave her girlfriend a secretive smile. Steph had been so unbelievably excited when Jazz had finally trusted her with her closely guarded secret. She knew that Jazz was meta but for the longest time, the redhead had been unable to bring herself to share more than that. With the anti-ecto acts still solidly in place, her existence was still illegal. It had taken her a lot to finally tell Steph the truth. 

But when she had, Steph had just given her a deep kiss and promised she would overturn the acts herself if she had to. She’d do anything to make Jazz safe. And she had kept her word. Stephenie Brown, the Spoiler had marched right through the zeta tube to the Watchtower and demanded that the Justice League help overturn the laws. 

It had been an ongoing legal battle for the last three months now but things were looking up. Danny and his totally not-a-sugar-daddy boyfriend had been excitedly keeping up with the news and updating Jazz constantly. 

Steph laughed and shook her head. “This is why you and Cass aren’t allowed to be in the same room together anymore. You’re both so damn sneaky I can’t trust either of you,” she said with a huff. 

The liminal just laughed and pressed a kiss to the corner of Stephenie’s mouth. “I have to keep you on your toes somehow, don’t I?”

“I suppose so,” the blond said and carefully scooted over on the bed and yanked Jazz onto the bed with her. Jazz smiled and adjusted herself on the bed until her girlfriend was resting her hand on the surgeon’s chest, their fingers interlocked as Jazz carefully maneuvered around her girlfriend until their legs were intertwined with one another and she held her close. 

“How’s the pain? Scale of one to ten, and don’t try to act all high and mighty on me Stephenie Brown, you know better,” Jazz murmured, running her fingers up and down the vigilante’s side. 

“Right now? Probably a six or a low seven if that makes sense?” She said, crinkling her nose. “I was a bad patient and waited until the pain was kicking in to take my medicine.”

Jazz laughed and shook her head in dismay. “Steph! You know better than anyone to not do that!”

The blond pouted, pushing her bottom lip out in a way that made her oh so kissable that Jazz couldn’t help herself and captured her lips with her own.  How could she not? Her girlfriend was right there, pushing her lips out in a pout, taunting her! It left her no choice. 

“I love you,” she murmured, nipping at Steph’s bottom lip softly. 

“I love you too Doctor Nightingale,” the vigilante whispered as Jazz started to pull away from her. Jazz smiled and brushed her own hair out of her face as she looked down at her girlfriend, she couldn’t get over the fact that this was her life, that she had somehow gotten so lucky to have Stephenie plop right in her lap that day at Gotham General just two years before. That they spent a year skirting around one another, with soft touches and flirty comments until Jazz had finally gotten the nerve to ask Steph out. 

She had been terrified to do so! To date a coworker? One of the nurses in the very OR that Jazz was now a resident in? It felt taboo, forbidden, she had read the handbook at least thirty times to be absolutely certain that she wouldn’t get fired for dating Nurse Brown. 

Once she had been sure, had covered all of her bases, she had fumbled through asking the vigilante on a date until Stephenie had finally taken pity on her and said yes. Of course, after that she had marched a laughing and blushing Steph all the way to HR just to let them know of their romantic relationship, just to be extra, extra sure that they wouldn’t get in trouble.  Steph had given her so much grief for it, but thankfully she thought that it was adorable as well.

“Thanks for taking care of your poor, pathetic patient,” Steph said, giving Jazz sad eyes. 

“You mean my terrible patient who doesn’t listen to doctor’s orders and keeps getting out of bed to sneak out and patrol?” Jazz asked, arching an eyebrow. “It’s like you completely forget that I have super hearing.”

“They need me! And I’m bored, babe! I’m so, so, so bored in this bed! I wanna get out of this damn bed! I wanna spar, I wanna run around, I wanna do something!”

Jazz smiled and moved back to lie on her back, holding Steph close. “If you behave for me for two more days and stay in bed, I’ll go down on you,” she murmured and Steph blushed and started mumbling. 

“Well, I definitely wouldn’t be opposed to something like that, and you know, they say that’s a good way to get some pent-up energy out,” she said, looking away from her girlfriend. Jazz just laughed and kissed her temple. 

“In the meantime, my brother dropped off some video games and his video game console. We can play that new Zelda game if you want? He also left us his switch thingy so we can play that island game you’ve been talking about too,” Jazz said and Steph let out a laugh. 

“Jazz, you’re my lifesaver. Please tell Danny thank you for me,” Steph said, hugging her girlfriend tight. 

“Why don’t you just get your own video game stuff?” Jazz asked, glancing down at the woman. 

“Because video games rot your brain and I refuse to have that in my house. Besides, I usually just go to Wayne Manor and mooch off of them anyway,” Steph said. “When will Danny want this back?”

Jazz snorted. “Don’t worry, his sugar daddy can get him another one,” she said with a shrug. 

“Are you seriously calling Conner Kent his sugar daddy?” Steph asked with a cackle. 

“He gets money from Lex Luthor like every month! Like a lot! Neither of them even has to work because of how big his allowance is. How is he not a sugar daddy?” Jazz exclaimed. 

Steph just chuckled and shook her head. “Go get the switch,” she said between laughs. 

Jazz climbed off the bed and saluted her girlfriend. “Anything for you, my love,” she said and skipped out of the room. Smiling to herself that she finally figured out a way to distract her girlfriend enough to keep her in bed and not sneak out to fight crime. She grabbed the bag of video games and consoles that Danny had dropped off through a portal and headed back to the room just as she found Steph struggling to put her pants to her Spoiler costume on.

“Stephenie Brown!”

[piracytheorist]

So as I mentioned, I got my copy of the Family Portrait stories!

It feels weird to suddenly have to turn the pages the left-to-right way, lol. But I guess it wouldn't work the right-to-left way for a book translated to English.

Opening it there's this cute illustration, as well as the winter-y one on the back, which kinda makes me wonder: why is it bound on the book?? I wished there was a safe way for me to rip it off and hang it on my wall. Anyway, both illustrations are super cute!

And so my collection continues to grow!

I might order the Eyes Only guide soon, I'm just wary of it including spoilers from a few future chapters. So we'll see. In any case, this might be the first time since I was a child collecting Disney's Ducks comics (and I wasn't that meticulous with those, even) that I've made such a collection! Should things keep going well I intend to keep buying the volumes to the end of the story :D

Spoilered thoughts about the stories included in the book below!

The first mission with the Eden kids going camping actually reminded me that I can find the dynamic between Anya and Damian pretty funny, at least from seeing how stubborn Damian gets. The illustration especially of Damian holding Anya's hand with Anya going like "He can be nice for real??" and Damian going like "How dare she manipulate me into feeling bad for her!!" is terrific and the only way I'll ever see this dynamic, thanks. Also really loved the moment of Damian kinda and dismissively admitting to himself he's also scared of the thunderstorm. Also found it really funny how at the end, Loid is described as handsome XD the writer knew her audience!

In the second story I think I lost count how many times I laughed. While with a deep, interesting layer, Yuri is just so entertaining to me. The most normal guy ever, wishing he was an ingredient so his sister could chop him into her dishes along with pieces of the cutting board 🥰

No, but really, I think there was a lot of care in writing Yuri here. His inner monologue is unending and bound to give Anya a headache, though it was quite sudden to hear him refer to her as a bastard and the spawn of Loid's loins 😳 but I liked the darker tone as he "acted" as a cop and took out his frustrations on the actor, picturing him as a potentially-abusive Loid. It ticks at a very interesting dynamic which I very much hope Endo explores at some point :D

(I actually wonder if there will be a moment post-identity reveal (where Yuri also knows about both Loid and Yor) and he makes a really ugly quip at Anya and Loid goes all protective like "Say whatever you want about me, but hurt my daughter again and I won't hesitate, bitch")

While I found Anya's "interrogation" scene funny, I found it a bit repetitive that she used the same technique that she used with the Red Circus guy from the bullet-in-butt date. Small note, but still XD

For the third story I have both praises and criticism... I understand how it was needed for the story, but I don't like it when characters' disabilities are taken away. It would have made for a bit more complicated setting but it would have been a little more respectful to have Alessa unable to see Franky because she had eye surgery for whatever reason aside from being blind before, and she had bandages on and couldn't see. And Franky would feel like he's on borrowed time because he knows from day to day she'll get the bandages off and she'll face him.

Also, making her nineteen instead of sixteen is just on the verge. And because I have met people who are now professional singers... nineteen is way too young to be considered for opera. She could be training, of course, but it's a very long-term investment. There's a reason most opera singers you see in concerts are in their late twenties at the earliest. And I get that she comes from a musical background and she has a talent or whatever, but again. She could have been aged up to mid-twenties and to me it would have made much more sense.

But as for the good parts, I was actually surprised by how convincing Franky was about wanting to deceive her. And when Twilight turned and asked "Are you sure you're okay with this?" I might have felt a chill. I should have given Franky more credit, haha. And the banter between them was nice, with Twilight teetering on thinking of Franky as a friend, and how Franky ended up handling the situation... that was good, I liked it.

I had already read the last story through a fan translation, so I wasn't surprised by anything new there. It was just as fun and wacky as you'd expect it to be. By the way, I liked the point that story drove on, that despite the painter's success and fame, he only had a cheap apartment for himself and donated all his earnings so that future art students could paint without worrying about the cost of their supplies. Very in touch with the whole story's message :)

What struck me as odd was when Loid hugged Anya to keep the pretense of him being a doting father. I was like "He would not fucking do that" cause we know homeboy isn't ready for such proximity, and an actual hug between Anya and Loid has to have a big impact, the times he held her up while she slept or whatever notwithstanding.

But the ending was really sweet, with Twilight feeling a sense of warmth and getting a bit of honesty in his smile. The last illustration by Endo was very fitting!

Overall, it was interesting to hold a book in my hands and read about the characters that way. I think Aya Yajima did a good job capturing the characters, and I'm always happy to read Endo's afterwords, he really seems like a very chill and down-to-earth guy.

[allthoseotherworlds]

Ugh, vision therapy makes me so angry.

For those who are not familiar, vision therapy is basically the idea that you can do eye exercises to fix certain conditions, mostly eye related ones.

Some of the more obviously scammy vision therapy stuff comes up in situations where it's pretty clearly never going to fix the thing it says it will fix- for example, eye exercises will never make you less nearsighted because nearsightedness is caused by the shape of your eyeball.

But I mostly see it come up in strabismus communities, and it's especially frustrating for me there.

(Strabismus is misaligned eyes - one eye pointing forward and one pointing in or out, for example. It can cause double vision, vision loss in one eye, and/or lack of depth perception)

The thing that makes it so frustrating in strabismus spaces is that there is some evidence that some vision therapy can help with some specific types of strabismus, as far as I can tell. But I haven't found evidence that it can help with other types of strabismus, such as the one that I have, and some people have reported that it makes things worse for them.

It's also expensive and not generally covered by insurance, or not covered very well.

When I first sought help for my strabismus, the optometrist I saw did try to get me to do vision therapy, which I declined because it was expensive, time consuming, and I didn't think there was enough evidence that it would help in my specific situation. She also prescribed me bifocals that did absolutely nothing, but acted very friendly and understanding and knowledgeable.

I eventually did get help that was actually effective - prism lenses and then eventually surgery, which is helping so far but there's always the risk I'll need prism again in the future because we don't really know why strabismus happens in some cases.

But I feel so bad when I see people saying things like how they're paying $1,000 a month for more than 2 years for their kid to do vision therapy and it isn't working.

They're under significant financial strain because they want to do the right thing and provide appropriate medical care for their kid, and it's being offered by people in regular optometry places that give you your normal eye exams, so it seems trustworthy.

But at the end of the day it's $1,000 a month for something that, as far as I can tell as a lay person, seems pretty controversial among experts and even if it might be helpful I think people probably should have more context than they're getting about that.

It just seems frustratingly easy to take advantage of people when it comes to medical conditions that don't have clearly understood causes and where all of the methods of treatment are at least a little bit risky and uncertain. Particularly when the current gold standard is surgery, which people are understandably wary of.

I'm not judging or frustrated by anyone who chooses to do vision therapy - like I said, it can be helpful for some specific situations. But I am frustrated at people trying to sell it as a one-size-fits-all solution without providing any appropriate context and while charging people exorbitant amounts of money for it.

(Disclaimer that I'm not a medical professional and this is not medical advice. I'm just a person with strabismus who has looked things up on the internet and spoken to multiple doctors about this stuff)

[ericac318]

Healing the Soul

Summary:  Dr. Charles is reserved in his personal life because of many failed attempts at love but sometimes the choice isn't left up to the person. How does he handle a pursuit and a relationship? Dr. Charles/OC

Chapter 1

Daniel sat back in his chair after saying goodnight to Dr. Reese, thinking back on the last few months of his life and how much had changed. Robyn was working with him and they were finally starting to have a relationship with her. He was caught up in a memory of a conversation he'd had with his therapist regarding another relationship he was involved in.

"Daniel, what's troubling you?" his therapist asked as they walked through Chicago on a cold winter night.

Daniel sighed, unsure of how to respond, "I've met someone but it's not right."

"What do you mean?" she asked, curious as to what objections he might have.

"She's younger than I am," he began, "She's the same age as Robyn which makes things very awkward from the start. She works at the hospital. I've told her that I've been married 3 times and starting something with me is a mistake but she doesn't seem to care. She's fearless. Her attraction to me makes no sense which makes me constantly listen to her speak and evaluate her for whatever issue she has that has caused her to seek romance with me," he explained as he let out another deep sigh.

His therapist smirked, "You have listed a good list of things to be wary about with this woman but you haven't said how she makes you feel. Are you as interested in pursuing a romantic relationship as she is?"

Daniel laughed lightly as he replied, "Of course. She's young, she's smart and she's beautiful. I don't want to say no to her but she's exhausting. She is never satisfied, if you get my drift. The first time she told me how she felt," he faltered for a moment, "was one of the most inappropriate encounters of my life and I have a lot more years under my belt then she does. I am too old and too fat to make her attraction to me make any sense and it's not money either because I have alimonies taking most of my earnings away," he finished, shaking his head.

"Do you want my advice?" his doctor asked to which he nodded so she went on, "If she makes you happy then there's no reason to reject her. Let things happen as they do and you might be surprised."

Daniel laughed as he realized that he had no control over the situation regardless of his own reservations because Mallory Taylor was not a woman who took no for an answer. He groaned as he stood from his chair to put on his coat and gather his things. He made his way down to the ER to see Mallory before he left. He got off the elevator and walked to her desk to see her completely fixated on her screens.

"Hey," he said to grab her attention.

Mallory looked up from her computer and her lips curled into a soft smile as she saw Daniel, "Hi, are you heading out?" she asked, noticing his bag.

Daniel nodded, reaching down and placing his hand on top of hers, "I was wondering if you would like to grab a bite to eat?"

Their relationship was still in the earlier phases because he was insistent to take things slower. They were intimate but they didn't do sleepovers because he wanted her to be able to make up her mind about him and her feelings.

Mallory sighed, "I wish I could but with the new ORs almost done, I have so many surgeries to schedule, it's ridiculous. I'm really sorry but you've had a long day so you should get something really good and get some sleep, Scheduler's orders," she finished with a smile.

Daniel smiled tenderly at her as he nodded, "I'll do my best. Don't overdo it," he warned as he mentally noted all the hours she'd been putting in.

Mallory held up a large cup of coffee and tilted her head to the side, "I'm good to go for a few more hours at least. If you want, I could meet you back at your place when I leave," she suggested, knowing the answer before she asked.

Daniel shook his head, "Mallory, you know how I feel about that. It's too serious and we're just not there yet. I'll check in with you later, ok?"

Mallory nodded, "Talk to you sometime tonight. Sorry again that I can't do dinner," she finished as she looked away from him and back to her computer screens.

Daniel sighed as he walked away knowing that she just didn't understand his perspective on their relationship.

Mallory began working once more, disappointed that Daniel was still so reserved when it came to her. She just wanted to be there for him but he always kept her at arm's length. As she worked, her mind went back to the first time she made a pass at him after their initial flirtations. He was so cautious she was forced to be as bold as possible.

Mallory walked up to Dr. Charles once she had finished scheduling the surgeries for the following day. She reached out and placed her hand on his arm to get his attention. "Dr. Charles?" she began.

Daniel turned to face her, his face breaking into a smile as he saw her, "Yes, Ms. Taylor," he replied.

Mallory suppressed a grin as she got very serious, "May I please see you in Exam 1?"

Daniel raised his brow at her request, wondering what a surgery scheduler could have for him, but he nodded as he followed her. Mallory led him to the room and gestured for him to go in first. Once he was in the room, she shut the door and pulled the curtain before turning to face him, "Would you mind taking a seat?"

Daniel furrowed his brow, "There's no patient in here. What do you need from me?" he asked, his face filled with curiosity.

Mallory smiled as she pulled off her scrub top to reveal a green lacy bra, "Are you going to cooperate or make this difficult?"

Daniel was shocked by her behavior as he shook his head, "This is completely unprofessional, Ms. Taylor. What if someone needs this room?"

Mallory sighed, over his reservations, as she walked up closer to him reaching out and pulling his tie from behind his sweater vest, "No one is coming. I arranged this with Maggie and since you refuse to allow either of us to go anywhere but a public place, I wasn't left with much of an option," she explained as she pushed his lab coat off of his shoulders and down to the floor before turning her attention to his sweater vest, giving him a gentle shove onto the bed as she did so.

Daniel took a deep breath, using all of his reserves, "Mallory, I don't want you to take my words as a rejection but this is not how this needs to happen. Maybe I can adjust our arrangement slightly," he urged, trying to keep his mind on anything other than her.

Mallory took a deep breath herself as she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, working her way down to his neck, undoing the top button of his shirt along with his tie for better access, "How about instead we just rip off the band aid and take care of this? You are never going to let me any closer unless I make you," she whispered in his ear before moving her attention back to his neck.

Daniel was losing control with each passing moment, hoping for something to pull him away so that he could ensure their first time would be done right. Mallory moved her attention back toward his mouth as she stopped briefly to look him in the eyes before she placed her lips against his, causing his body to shudder.

Daniel had nothing left as he let go of the edge of the bed and put his hands on her pulling her closer. "What brought this on so suddenly?" he asked watching her as she released him to pull her scrub pants down to the floor, revealing a matching pair of underwear.

Daniel inhaled sharply as she moved back to him, pushing him down so he was laying on the bed before she climbed on top of him, her legs straddling either side of his body as she ran her hands up his chest, "I heard Goodwin ask you to dinner and she mentioned someone she thought might interest you and I wanted to make sure you'd be thinking about me," she replied as she leaned down pulling his lips to hers once more.

Mallory was pulled back from her memory as the ER flooded with teenagers. She sighed as she tried to focus on her work and not get distracted by all that was going on around her.

Mallory got lost in her work and didn't realize that the whole night had passed and it was 5 am. She took a deep breath as she looked around and saw the same patients but new faces beginning to arrive as shifts were switching. She looked at her phone and realized Daniel had never called which meant that she must have upset him more than she'd thought. She took a deep breath as she locked her drawer and left her desk to see if he was in his office already for the day.

She got off the elevator and walked toward his office seeing the door open so she walked toward it and gently knocked on the open door.

"Come in," she heard his voice reply as she made her way into his office, noting that he was in the same clothes as the previous day.

Daniel looked up and saw her, "Did you ever leave?" he asked, noticing she was also in the same outfit as the day before.

Mallory shook her head, "I got caught up in work but from the looks of it, you did too. You should go home and get some sleep," she said as she sat down in the seat across from his desk.

Daniel shook his head, "I have plenty to do today so I won't be able to get home until tonight for some sleep. Robyn, Reese and Latham all needed me for various things and they each caught me as I was leaving. Did you get all your scheduling done?" he asked, running his hand through his hair while attempting to suppress a yawn.

"Some of it," she replied, "Listen, when do you need to be downstairs?" she asked, looking at him with a tender expression.

"I don't have the energy for what you're suggesting," he replied causing Mallory to laugh.

"Daniel," she began as she stood from her seat and walked around his desk, pushing his chair out enough so that she could sit on his lap, "I know that I'm very demanding in that area but it's not all I'm interested in. I was going to say that you should take a nap on your sofa before you get to work. You do know that I want more from our relationship then casual meals and sex, right?" she asked as she laid her head down on his shoulder.

Daniel sighed, "It doesn't make sense and that's my problem. I do want what you're talking about," he began, "Well, to a degree. I can't do marriage again. But, you're young and you have so much ahead of you. You're wasting your time."

Mallory sat up and looked at him, placing her hand on his cheek and leaning down to place her lips to his briefly, "It's my time so I think I should be able to use it how I want. I know you want me to tell you why I like you and what we could have but I can't. All I can offer is that I do want you and that I would like you to allow me into your life."

Daniel closed his eyes for a moment, taking in what she was saying, "If you will agree to stop seducing me in different areas within the hospital then I will accept sleepovers as a part of our relationship. Deal?"

Mallory's lips curled into a mischievous smile, "I have one more condition before I will agree to your terms." Daniel rolled his eyes as she stood and reached for his hand.

He took her hand and she led him over to his sofa where she gestured for him to lie down. "Get some rest before you come down and work, ok?" she said.

Daniel smiled at her before he moved to lay on his side and pulled her down with him, "You need a mental break as well."

A/N: If you like it, you can keep reading here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12347373/1/Healing-The-Soul

[seadragon-sailing]

The Crew From Guangzhou: Trade Secret

Previous Text Chapter

Resuming From Excerpt Post

“This is all a very confusing situation…” Jim remarked quietly as he swabbed the quarterdeck, watching the newly hired crew move about like busy worker ants every so often as he did.

“It certainly is quite ironic, isn’t it?” Livesey concurred before letting out a fit of booming laughter, and patting Jim’s shoulder. “They are a strange lot.  I’ve never heard of pirates who only went after other criminals who weren’t official privateers, but I suppose this voyage has many firsts for all of us to experience!” 

“It sounds too good to be true,” Smollett mused, narrowing his eyes as he surveyed the deck’s activity. “But, considering how wary their captain is of Silver, I suppose that only means less chance of that scoundrel rousing another mutiny.  Now, only time will tell if Ippuki can be trusted not to pull one over on us.”

If there was one thing that Smollett couldn’t deny, it was the efficiency of Feng’s crew.  While the arrangements were being ironed out between Trelawney and Feng, everyone had been hard at work cleaning up the mess.  To the other five, it was a little unnerving to be surrounded by people who looted the dead before tossing them overboard so casually.  They chatted amongst each other in a language none of them could understand, yet they could tell that this was something they dealt with on a frequent basis.  And when there were no more bodies to dispose of on either three ships, all of the focus was put into cleaning out Gold Tooth’s frigate until every last valuable and salvageable material was taken from it.  

“We’ll be ready for departure in a moment, captain.  I need to have a word with my first mate, and address my crew back on my ship,” Feng informed Smollett after making sure his volunteering squad were settled on the Hispaniola. 

—

Hours after the two ships went their separate ways, it seemed like all of the initial tension was finally starting to calm down.  The new crew practically took to operating the schooner like fish to water once Smollett gave the commands, allowing for the rest of the Hispaniola crew to finally catch a much-needed break. 

“Lungs are still working efficiently… How splendid!  Bleeding has stopped… Excellent! No damage to any vital organs…” The doctor murmured to himself between fits of chuckling, working swiftly to bandage up Feng’s side. 

“I’m impressed, Mr. Ippuki!  You’re in quite good shape for a man your age, very spry and hearty!”

“Age has still taken quite a toll on me over the years…” Feng modestly remarked, calmly holding still while Livesey did another quick check to make sure everything looked right. “I’m far from being how I was in my prime, but it is most fortunate to hear that I’ve maintained good health thus far.”

“Indeed, it is!  Now then, make sure you keep that wound clean and it should heal in no time,” Livesey instructed in his usual jovial tone, moving aside to allow Feng to get back up onto his feet.

“Many thanks, doctor.” The elderly captain gave a bow in gratitude after placing his coat back on, readjusting it on his way out the door.

Much to his surprise, there were others besides Kyung who were waiting for him outside the cabin.  Standing by the young woman stood Smollett and Silver, both of them wasting no time in approaching Feng now that there was time to no doubt interrogate him, judging from the serious expressions on their faces.

“How are you feeling, Ippuki? The doctor didn’t have to perform surgery, did he?” Silver questioned in a somewhat joking manner, earning a small smirk from Feng.

“Of course, he did. Can’t you tell?” He shot back sarcastically as he started to make his way back towards the deck, Kyung following close behind him while Silver and Smollett walked on either side.

“I still have many questions, Ippuki.  What is it that you and your crew stand to gain by helping us if it isn’t a share of the treasure?” Smollett demanded as he glared up at the elder. “If you’re pirate hunters as you claim, where are the documents to prove it?”

“Of course you would, captain.  It’s only natural that you would, given the circumstances that led to this point,” Feng nodded as he spoke in a much more sincere tone. “I will be truthful with you, our goal was to claim the bounty on Flint and some of his more wanted men, maybe even try to find his treasure ourselves if we got the map from Billy Bones.  But then, word got out that Silver and the remainder of Flint’s friends were going sailing as part of a civilian’s treasure hunt… Plans changed, and we set our sights on finding out where we could intercept the Hispaniola.

“If we caught you before Silver and his crew could slaughter you all, we would have only asked if we could claim any bounties that were on their heads and any loot they were carrying.  That’s it,” He continued to explain. “However, my sources overheard that Gold Tooth was planning on an ambush back at Port Tortuga, so it just seemed more logical to try and kill two birds with one stone.  We don’t bother with all the paperwork, captain.  We are merely commonors just trying to support our families under a dynasty that seems to care so little for us, a mix of ‘good’ and ‘necessary evils’.”

“Besides, what better way to get information about pirate affairs than to blend in among them within their own havens?”

“A likely story…” Smollett muttered, narrowing his eyes suspiciously towards Feng’s answer. “And am I to assume that you’re content with just claiming the bounty on Gold Tooth’s head, then?”

“Not just his head, but many others.  Gold Tooth and several of his men are wanted for a high price dead or alive, and my sources tell me that there’s a chance other pirates will be on the lookout for the Hispaniola as well,” Feng confirmed, pausing in order to fish something out from his coat pocket.  It was a long-stemmed smoking pipe with a carved jade bit, and tied around it was a small cotton sachet. “Naturally, your crew will be more prepared to take on those threats now, and my crew will gather up the bounties so we can turn them in once we get to Bristol.  Now, hopefully we’re all on the same page…”

“Care to partake, captain?” Feng offered, managing to catch Smollett staring at the items curiously.

“It’s tobacco, is it not?” The captain inquired with an arched brow.

“I’ve been trying to lay off the tobacco, so no. It’s hemp in this pouch, I prefer to smoke this or cannabis instead. It’s a medicinal herb, and doesn’t harm the lungs nearly as much as tobacco does.  Hemp is also most likely better for this time of day, it doesn’t affect the mind like cannabis does,” Feng answered while shaking his head, casually filling the chamber before holding the sachet out to the other captain inquisitively.

“… I suppose it couldn’t hurt to try it.  Thank you, Ippuki,” He finally relented, removing his own pipe from his pocket to do the same.

As a gesture of peace, Silver was offered the sachet as well.  Despite some hesitation from the cook, even Silver’s curiosity was piqued from hearing about the herb.  Curious enough to try it, and spared a match to help light their pipes.  Meanwhile, Kyung progressively allowed herself to gravitate away from the trio now that she knew things would be fine.  She was quite satisfied seeing that the paranoia was fading, and everyone was being cordial with each other.

[softerseasons]

Time for a new pinned!

I'm Juno, an accountant in my 30s.

Any pronouns are accepted, neopronouns included. I cannot be misgendered in a way that matters. I do not give anyone that power over me. (This is a personal viewpoint, not a criticism of people who do not want to be misgendered.) My gender is 'sure why not'.

I reblog about chronic illness, chronic fatigue, endometriosis, and ehlers-danlos syndrome a lot, as I have POTS, hEDS, and am in the works with an endometriosis specialist to figure out if that's what's all going on in there.

I reblog about transmisogyny and transandrophobia as I believe these concepts can and should coexist, and that trans people of all stripes can and do leverage them against each other. Trans women and transfems do not oppress other transgender people on the basis of gender. Trans men and transmascs do not oppress other transgender people on the basis of gender. Lateral aggression is not oppression, but it is bad, and it should be reasonably shot down when seen. I may tend towards reblogging more about transandrophobia, as this more often affects me personally.

I reblog important warnings, such as warnings of recalls and disease outbreaks. I reblog voting reminders for individuals in the USA.

I sometimes reblog nsfw. Minors are not recommended to follow me.

I sometimes post about my health journey. This includes talk of weight loss, as I am just under 8 months out from a vertical sleeve gastrectomy, also known as a gastric sleeve, a type of bariatric/'weight loss' surgery. I have spent two decades being considered obese by medical standards, and I believe strongly in fat acceptance and fat liberation. My surgery does not change that. However, be wary if talk of weight loss or bariatric surgeries are a trigger for you.

I don't do follow-for-follow.

I sometimes interact with someone I disagree with, then realize I shouldn't have once it's too late to undo it. In these cases, if you are one of those people, or if you simply aren't interested in interacting with me, please do feel free to simply tell me not to interact with you anymore, and I will do as asked. I have no desire to contribute to pile-ons or worsening someone else's mental health, even if we don't agree on many topics. (This does not apply to those who interact with me first.)

I block liberally and do not take offense at being blocked.

I welcome asks about anything and everything.

My personal tag is #juno's musings.

[analogboii]

tumblr.com/analogboii/746259671902535680

What's bishops castle? Please tell me about it!

GJSKDK GOD YES. I WILL ALWAYS TALK ABOUT THE INSANITY THAT'S BISHOP'S CASTLE 🗣️🗣️🗣️

okokok

this is a "castle" that currently resides in Rye, Colorado.

So, Jim Bishop bought some land way back when. He was 15 and saved up 450 bucks from various jobs. His parents used his money to buy it for him (cause he was 15, so he couldn't legally purchase land yet). Originally, he just built a cabin with his dad. But one day, motherfucker just woke up with a "message from God" that told him to build a castle. and he was just like "alright bet" and just started building one. Mind you, this guy has NO IDEA how to build a castle (I mean, who tf does these days) and just starts slapping rocks/slabs and concrete together.

Not only is he doing this, but he's primarily doing this BY HIMSELF. No professional team of contractors or construction workers, no. Its mostly just HIM fueled by "the spirit of god". Sure, different family members helped over time here and there, but it was mostly solo work. People would say they'd help them flake out, but he didn't care. He kept going bc he was fully convinced that this is why god sent him to this plane of existence. To build this castle.

that being said, he OBSESSED over this. this was the reason he got up in the morning. the first thing he thought about when he woke up and the last thing he thought about before going to bed. it consumed his life.

tragedy struck in the 80s when his four year old son died. they had been taking out the trunk of a tree. some of the roots were giving trouble so he sent his FOUR YEAR OLD SON to cut the roots. only for the trunk to end up falling on top of him and squashing him.

you'd think that something like that would fuck you up and you'd stop, right? not Jim. he kept going. later when asked why he had kept going he just "well, what else am I gonna do? he loved the place!"

the website leaves this part out, but you can find articles and interviews about it. the website is VERY tailored to make Jim seem more sane than he is.

after this, a lot of his relationships strained. some family and friends stopped talking to him. some were wary. some tried to get him to stop, but he just kept saying that god was telling him this is what he needed to do. this was his calling.

as it got bigger over the years, people started to come and see it.

some people told him he should charge to see it, but growing up with not a lot of money and not being able to do things bc of that, he was determined to keep it free, but it does have a donation box. between that and the gift shop, they are primarily what keep this place running. they are also a registered non profit charity as well. they donate quite a bit to newborn heart surgeries.

tbh, it's a really insanely impressive the way it looks. it's got a grand ballroom and several other rooms. there isn't running water as it's not a functioning castle and still isn't technically finished, but to say it got this far as a solo man project is insane. it took 40ish years to get to this point.

like this shit even has stained glass

now Jim Bishop is old as shit so he's unable to keep building on it. it's still considered under construction and sometimes he'll hire friends or family to build on it. he spends his days sitting outside of it, ranting about the government.

THIS MAN HATES THE GOVERNMENT BY THE WAY (as he should). like I remember one of the times I went, he was YELLING about shit. people will go to just rile him up cause this man will POP OFF. he also has a lot of anti government signs around his property as well.

also, colorado can frequently have fire bans because it can get incredibly dry in the summers. he's got signs about those too. he's also got your disclaimers and such as well.

oh the signs are all handmade, btw.

there are more signs, but Tumblr is only allowing me so many photos.

during the two years I lived in Colorado, I went eight times. I would've went more if I could've. the over all energy from there is insane. love talking and listening to Jim's insane rants, his grandkids sometimes run the gift shop and they're always nice. this man is absolutely batshit but we got a really cool castle out of it. he also prides himself and calls it "a working class made attraction for the working class" if you're ever in Colorado, especially near Rye, go visit it. the drive up there is beautiful, the place is stunning, and it's a free attraction, so definitely worth it.

tho if you go, be careful. shit gets a little rickety once you hit the third floor. walk carefully and don't even think about running. you can go even higher as there are walk ways and stuff around the outside and to the towers. there are signs when you reach this point that warn you to progress as your own risk (I'd post it if I could stuff more pics in here). I've never reached the very top bc I'm so scared of heights but I want to be able to do it one day. i haven't been in a few years because I moved, but hell yeah I'd go again.

I could talk more about it but this is already insanely long. definitely look into it, it's so worth it. and thank you for asking so I can unleash this verbal vomit 🙏

ALSO YES. THE DRAGON HEAD CAN BREATHE FIRE 🔥🐲🔥🐲

[dorothy-webring-resorce]

[ Let's face it--you were never a clothes horse, and you actually believed it when the other kids on the playground said, "You're ugly and your mother dresses you funny!", especially when you may have been forcibly subjected to wearing knee-highs and frilly dresses.  Well if you're here, then you've obviously broken away long ago from that nightmare, but the question is, what do you do now?  In this section, no matter what stage you're in, I'll give you some tips on how to dress like a manly man--strike that, a respectable man.  No, strike that too--a well-dressed man who need not spend what he should be saving for surgery on a pair of elevator shoes.

Okay,  you've bound yourself (or have already had the fortune of having had surgery), you've shaved and slapped on the aftershave & cologne, and you've had your T shot (or even if you haven't, again, this is for guys in all stages).  What next?  Shopping!  Ahh, the smell of commerce and sweatshop-made garments in the morning.  Hold on a sec, guy--you say you have a budget the size of the change in MC Hammer's wallet?  Not a problem.  I can take you to several places where you can get the goods.  But first, we've got to decide exactly what you want and need.  Let's start from the bottom up (Dale's favorite way to go).

Shoes (plus socks and underwear):  If you're a tall transman, your biggest worry is getting shoes that fit your growing feet (your feet have a tendency to grow once you're on testosterone, and it's not unlikely that you could go up a half size.  Captain Johnathan did.).  For some short guys, transmen and biomen alike, their vertically challenged bodies are a source of frustration and low self-esteem, and they'll do anything short of a Bobby Brady stunt to appear taller (The Artist Formally Known as Net Unfriendly wears huge heels to add to his 5' 4" stature).  The way I look at it, you can either do one of two things:  get over the dang hangup because you've got bigger (no pun intended) things to worry about, or do something and find a way to soothe yourself by actively modifying your height through your shoes.  Either way is work, but for this page's sake, let's try the latter.  Onward and upward...

Pants, Jeans, Dress Slacks:  Again, if you're tall, no real worry.  If you're short, though, you may have trouble finding pants with an inseam that fits (ones that you don't have to cuff or hem up).  What's an inseam, you say?  Well, unlike women's pants and stuff (measured in a ridiculous system of "Size 5" to "Size 13" and so on), men's pants are measured by your waist size--the first number--and your inseam length (the inches from the bottom of the crotch to about the ankle or so).  A very common measurement is 36W/34L.  Short men, however, measure anywhere from a 34L to 26 or 28L.  This can be a plus in some ways and a boon in others:  sometimes the sizes that are produced by some companies (like Levis) are so unpopular that they get shipped to discount department stores (a plus), but other times the sizes are of such little value to the clothing manufacturers that they don't even bother making them (a boon, sort of a slight [sic] against the shorter man).  Well, enough of this, let's get to it...

Shirts, Jackets, Coats:  Well, picking up the size lingo here is also a lot like learning how to read pants tags, as men's dress shirts aren't as simple as S-M-L-XL anymore.  Men's dress shirt sizes, namely the ones embroidered on that little tag just under the brand name go by the size of a guy's neck.  Yep, you heard me.  A 15 1/2 will fit a guy whose neck measurement is 15 1/2" around.  Simple, eh?  Of course, be wary of the "LONG" tag (which means if you're a regular guy who buys a 15 1/2 LONG, you'll end up with sleeves dragging along the floor) or anything that says "One Size Fits All" (as many heftier guys will attest that one size does not fit all).  Keep your shirt on...

Ties, Accessories:  What male wardrobe would be complete without at least one tie (save for Charles Manson's...or Marilyn Manson, for that matter).  Even Dale has a crap-load of ties.  The matter is picking the right tie to buy or wear, and not something that looks like you could use as a potholder (basically, a throwback to the wild bright psychedelic WIDE ties of the 60's...unless you're striving for the look).  Of course, you don't really want to go 80's either, with the thin "Is that a tie or a belt you're wearing around your neck?" look.  Okay, tie me up.

Now that you've explored those links, I hope you can keep in mind and put to use what I've suggested here, but this is by no means a definitive rule-book on what you should do.  Heck, if you have the cash to go spend at Macy's or Saks Fifth Avenue, go forth and spend...just make sure to remember that Dick sent you, and wouldn't mind seeing some of that trickle-down economy at work...]

[springliveliness]

Muin, I see I still step back again from knotted tie, by writing explanation to human (you) rather than enduring the pain or resuming comfort to confide in God.Text will be full of vague slight metaphors. By writing, I risk some dearly souls to have reason to dislike me while my rational soul adores them! But let me be and let me stay to be let disliked or felt like I am disliked by the adored ones!

That’s the first training I think I need.

I see none gets the picture unless I described them all but till that amount they too get confused. I don’t think it excludes you. I am actually talking to God with help of manifestation of His kindness and Sama’ through human’s kindness and sama’ to me.

In this phase,   where the versions of the tafsir of God is mixed but in decrease, though like still in “surgery”, the person I would wish to talk is female version of Muin. That sounds like Naima and Iffat combined. Basically my own self if I am sane in spirituality and other stuffs the soul and aql is default to be. I am basically a 2020 me and 2012 me, whom she is raw, but 2020 was so good. Both are ignorant but they are authentic in a way but more, than its corrupted side in a way.

I realized, I am looking for a parental role in the side from my own friends. Longer stretch, later problem, I am looking for godliness virtue through parent through friends.

My self is really hard to be asked to discuss and bargain. The idealist me inside keeps being angry “why did you make that mistake? You gone further from God, the lightbearers, and the carrier of beauty.” That soul envied, or actually asks its right to be exposed to endurance of pain it needs, to perish its all wounds to dust.

Apparently, that soul’s task is too bringing her mother’s and father’s wound, and the soul is in fear of the doubled pain of shame and rage.

This is the soul of 2020 speaking, MuinNaimaIffatMe. I am truly raw. I will be the enemy of Aqua, Hudson, Myshkin, and Muhammad literally if I were only 2012 me without 8 years after that.

Everything is destined. I said it with understanding, but with wariness I wronged His ilm due to my powerlessness, now, ya  salik. And some spirituality training were mostly feel itchy : you know what your teacher means to aim, but you are like the watcher of your own heart to be surged without anesthetics, except you saw that in a dream, the pain looks like real but it’s not since it’s like a dream. But it happens in real life. Metaphor.

And that time I realise, that the journey has been too long and the one I called the most to, should be the one I always flee from, God Himself. None understand, except Him. None not even you too. And I have been shouting to wrong address and with anestethic too much, the pain hasn’t carved enough lesson of virtue.

Not even Rasulullah. Not in the sense of you may misunderstood me about moon and sun of Rasulullah and Allah, no. But what for I reexplain something about the matter of heart to qaidi matters? Not in the place. I must face Him, God, with how I am however she is, and say “I wronged You, Your right to be known as You ask and deserve, but me, flee before even crying to admit that and admit my shame of clashing You and my loved ones that You made them against me now through misunderstandings and painful interaction, while I was avoiding to prioritise You by protecting their feelings and mimic to change on me, and now I am trapped in their approval, but You are sending help of those who let me experiment of which way working for me.

Muin, I love hadith sciences, maybe way less than how Aqua and you. And Bonquisha do. But I do long. And I do miss. And I am trapped in fear being disliked by people of another condification school of fiqh and aqidah. For how weak I am found now when they see me.

Muin, trust me this isn't me being too hard on my self. This is the true sadness and distance I am having, but it doesn’t sound so right? Why? Because vanity conquered me and I am not refusing it on time on its own. So let the bravery to talk and defy danger face to face shall happen. Let the raw emotion may happen when I should be me. Nothing is cured if I if I if I keep on the defensive, no amal, no learning, just to be afraid of slipping and conflicts.

The gray areas that can be dangerous to be manifested in more long run is higher, than the risk of feeling hurt to be disliked, laughed, ridiculed, by my own adored ones whom I indeed put them too high, and God challenges that treatment of mine of His own.

How painful, an unseen malady is, none would laughed and weirded out to fever, plague, nor cancer

But I have fever or plague or cancer in random codes in me. Malady of belief. Still on the core. Regardless of how much close I am to Aswj and As, I am still cornered with deviance attacks in the yard out there, blocking me from the walk.

And only God can know and cure much. He will make many people mimic or de-mimic themselves. Some of their do will tend to degress my progress by its pain, some of them will add the cure by its pain. Shame and passiveness of shock that I can’t move myself in ideal liveliness I used to, because : I don’t address my shame to Him fully first honestly just me, but I addressed it through anger to humankind the lightbearers and the shademessengers.of whom Allah insert virtues through them and whirling of His names through them their implicit and explicit lessons from their presence.

Let me redo all those activeness. Let me not flee from the battle, inside this soul. I have to face those examination of learning and piled-juggles. It will be life.

But what do you know? You might too struggle in reading this and end up disliking me too. And I became sounded like disliking you in saying this. I know, Hadith will always incomplete, I am to you and you to me and me to him her them us and vice versa. Let this be actually a letter of longingness, and path to cure. Thank you for your presence Muin.

[hernando-valdez]

"Shit, I hear you there though. Even with my workouts, I ain't nearly as fast as I used to be. If someone tried to chase me right now I'd probably fuck up my knee and end up on the sidewalk. But don't let her hear you say that too loud or else my house is gonna look like a flan factory in no time." Thought the holidays were coming up and Nando was sure that his mother would go into overdrive for her first holiday season back in Tonopah. But he couldn't really complain. He was grateful to have her around and even more grateful that he got to have so much of his family around. It was bittersweet still, since it made him worry that much more. "But I will do my best to assure that..most of that bag makes it home," he teased with a wink.

Hernando listened to her as she spoke, knowing exactly what she was talking about. Siblings were hard to start but being the oldest one, trying to keep them together, it was an even harder job. Especially if your parents had done a number on you. To this day, he and his sister viewed their father in a very different light. "Well that's your problem, you're trying to do something nice for everyone when you should be doing something nice for you. I mean you got plenty of people to watch Landon, me and my Mom included. Though he may come back wanting to watch nightly novelas so I'd be wary of that, he teased, "But the two of you on a little trip? Drive a couple hours out, wind in your hair, maybe get to a beach. Come on, I love that for you. You can't let anything stop you, there's always gonna be something you have to do, Lyds. Always. Never gonna be the right time, all of that, all of the things you'd tell me if I were you," he added, his smile softening so she knew he wasn't trying to make her feel guilty but encouraged. And he worried that she'd spend so much time trying to get the timing right she'd never actually do it.

"No surgery, thankfully. Just some new meds for her blood pressure and stuff. She definitely needs to be eating more greens but she loves her sweets so much. We're learning, you know? And I'm trying to be patient. After my Dad passed she just got so...sad. Sadder than I've ever seen her before, you know? And lately she's been..smiling more. gets to see her sisters and her family and bothering me about grandkids since apparently I'm well past my prime." He laughed as he thought about it and shook his head. He knew that her best bet for that was his sister anyway. "She says she worries about me and I just worry about her more." Not that she didn't have any reason to be worried about him but that was besides the point. "The shop though? Always good. We're entering holiday season so you know lots of table pieces, last minute gifts, we're going big on importing some wreaths and poinsettia to really get in the Christmas game. It's gonna be awesome. We already got orders coming in so in a couple of weeks my work schedule is gonna be crazy and I'll be helping out with some deliveries too. Throw on a Santa hat and all."

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. I left my splits on that football field over twenty years ago -- all I’m left with is my right hip popping every time I bend over to grab something out of the oven.” She couldn't help but chuckle at his unwarranted encouragement, playfully nudging him. Until now, she hadn't realized how much she'd missed her friend in the short time he'd been gone. His seemingly boundless enthusiasm and positive attitude had always brought a smile to her face, even in the worst of times. Reflecting on the last couple of months, she realized how much she could have used it. “It’s your lucky day, then, because I made way too many for one batch. You’ll bring some home to your mom, won’t you? I can’t promise they’ll be up to her standards — I’ve had that women’s flan before, so I know she can bake me out of existence any day. I can pack you up a bag before you leave.”

Taking a bite of the croissant, Lydia couldn't help but compare the flavor to when she had Roman working away in the kitchen. He'd always been far more skilled in the art of baking than she had, having gone to culinary school and maintained a passion throughout the years. They weren't bad — no, in fact, they were quite delicious — but they were devoid of that same je ne sais quoi. “You’re telling me — ha! Doing something for myself? Every time I even attempt to do something nice, it ends up blowing up in my face. Example one being hosting a nice dinner, only for it to end in my sister acting like a bitch and leaving with my brother after only fifteen minutes. I understand that grief makes you act out, but I just wanted, like, one nice thing for us all to do together. Maybe you’re right, though. Maybe what I need to do is say fuck it and get away. Landon’s Thanksgiving break is coming up — maybe we just do our own thing.” Lydia let out a sigh, a sweet smile tugging at her cheeks as Hernando spoke of his mother. “You know what? I wouldn’t put it past her. Seriously, though, is she doing okay? Did she need any surgeries or anything?” Lydia reached over and grabbed a few napkins, handing them to her friend. “I bet. It’s good that you have each other now, as up in your business as she might be. You’re always welcome to get away at our place, you know — or, better yet, drop her off with us while you get a well-deserved drink.” She offered playfully. “Things at the shop are okay, too?”

[blvcklizard]

When he joined the Hunting Dogs, Tachihara was wary of them at first.  Naturally; it wasn't exactly like he'd had much of a choice regarding joining them, and from his brief previous interactions with the others, combined with the surgeries and everything else that went into becoming a Hunting Dog, he really wasn't looking forward to whatever was going to happen to him.

He soon comes to realize that he wasn't quite right, though.

This job offers him so many new opportunities, and he quickly comes to enjoy it. He finally has a purpose for himself, a place to belong, and maybe even a new family of sorts. He hasn't had the chance to get to know most of his teammates that well, but it can't be that hard, right?

He soon has to realize that things don't quite work the way he imagined them, though. He has trouble connecting with his teammates in a deeper sense, and a similar thing seems to apply to them; they're working together, but that seems to be it. But okay, if they're not going to, he will make an effort to fit in.

He tries to, really. He goes out of his way to spend time with them. He tries to join them wherever they're going after work; it works, sometimes Jouno even lets him stay at his place for a few hours if he's in a good mood. He even tried to organise some team activities three or four times, but it never ended well; Fukuchi and Teruko wouldn't even show up and Jouno and Tecchou would start fighting after 10 minutes at maximum without their commanders supervising them. But that's okay; they tried, and Fukuchi and Teruko are busy people. It was still better than what Tachihara was used to.

When Jouno tells him to take the job in the Mafia, he doesn't think twice at first. This way, he can get revenge, and in that sense, it's more important than anything he's trying to do with his team. Later though, at night, days after applying and being accepted, the doubts catch up on him; what will that mission do to the connection he tried to build? Of course, he'll still be a Hunting Dog, and he'll still see his teammates, but he'll ultimately be gone most of the time. Despite everything, he's scared he'll lose another place he wants to call home so badly.

But then he joins the Mafia, and Black Lizard is all he ever wanted.

Suddenly, he's surrounded by people who seem to feel the same as him. The work comes so naturally to him, and somehow, it's so easy to build a connection to the people. He makes friends with his commanders easily, and soon gets raised to that position himself. He knows he's here as a spy, but as time passes, he finds himself forgetting about it more and more often. The Black Lizards are the family Tachihara had tried to see in the Hunting Dogs, and they accept him as part of it no questions asked. It's different from anything he has ever known, from the Hunting Dogs, his gang, and his family even before his brother died. For the first time, he feels like he has found a genuine place to belong.

He doesn't know when he started keeping his bandaid on at home. He does know when he first became aware of it, though. When he first realised that something was weird about his reflection, and it took him a few moments to pin down what it was. His Mafia self had grown on him so much, and he's come to realise that maybe this is what he wants long ago.

He took the bandaid off when he came home that day, but forgot about it again soon.

It feels so right, and he doesn't want to fight it, even though he knows he really should. He's with the Mafia because he wants revenge, and as a spy, nothing more. He didn't expect to find a home, a family, and a version of himself he's happy with, but well, dealing with the unexpected is part of his job description. There's nothing wrong about enjoying his time with the Mafia.

It's not like it matters, after all. He is a Hunting Dog. The military police offered him a place to belong, and he took it. It doesn't matter what could have been; he's a spy, and this is everything that connects him to the Mafia. He took his first opportunity, and he has to- he will stick to it.

But oh, he wishes things would have gone different.

[pastelpaperplanes]

Big Ol Ask Post Pt. 3 I think

I haven’t drawn anything other than cursed or plain technical stuff w him 😔😔 have these for now but expect more soon!

anon a way back asked what he’d look like next to Overlord being already so big compared to Megs, that’s why you see Lordie if you’re wondering why he’s thrown in that line up!

by the way I have a voice claim for the big purple simp— Jenner from NIMH, he’s so awful but that suave baritone oh it fits too well >:] it’s the ‘humble servant’ line that got to me

Yep! Pharma is absolutely in this AU—as well as the CFau and Crack one too—and in all, he’s still an estranged medic long since booted from any legal work back on Cybertron.

He lost his credibility and more all those years ago when he found himself willing to do his fair share of cutting corners and hastily concealed malpractice to expedite his dream of getting his name down in the medical books—ultimately impressing his dear Mentor Ratchet, finally, in perfecting long-since banned risky experiments and surgeries—not to mention cruel and unusual temperament with the (supposedly) taboo practice of non-medicinal mnemosurgery.

His ambitions and aggression always got the bet of him, this hasn’t changed since he found himself working in freelance outposts. Light years away from Cybertron, he’s made a name for himself as a Good Doctor—but to his under-the-table black market part-dealing clients, he’s just about as bad as a Crooked Medic can get.

Bounty hunters and Arms Dealers like him for his business, a certain DJD member likes him for the occasional berth company and seemingly never ending supply of fresh T-Cogs—but no one actually likes him for his nasty temperamental personality, save for a young and naive Ratchet once upon a time.

Pharma is a roamer, as of recent he’s been a hard to reach mech—seems as if he’s found a little project to keep himself pretty occupied in the last few decades—something about a breakthrough for aiding the Decepticon Energon Crisis :] him and a small, horrifyingly cheerful surgeon are well on their way to completing their first trial batches, it’s safe to say that their little synthetic mixture will have it’s users sated and compliant.

they’ve got that amazing ‘new car smell’ those first few weeks, and instead of chittering like an Insecticons or vibrating their wings like a seeker—they beep and squeak, sometimes even honk a horn depending on the baseline altmode coding, to get their Creators’ attention before their vocalizer truly starts to kick online

It’s cute, but loud

Much like a seeker sparkling, they have to reach a certain ‘age’ (upgrade) to be able to transform completely, in between then they’re still able to rev those engines as a warning should they need it, as well as spin their wheels should they need a getaway HEELIES IF THEYRE LUCKY WOOHOOOOO—for seekers they can hover on their thrusters!

Crusade is actually pretty formal with Megatron. But yeah as a kid, Megs was always known as Carrier, but as Sadie got older and more aware of their surroundings—they definitely came to learn the true weight of that title and the fact that they were the progeny of the faction leader, a fact they should have really held onto with more pride. Not wanting to draw more attention to the already blatant favoritism (and nepotism) Crusade made a switch to addressing Megatron as Sir, My Lord, Lord Megatron, —ect. to better fit in with their fellow troops.

It bothers Megatron more than than he lets on. Crusade shouldn’t have to hide their high ranking as his child, the heir to the faction. Megs is their Carrier and can only order them around for so long, as their Leader however—pulling rank may just allow for their infuriatingly stubborn sparkling to listen to them should a day come where even a Carrier’s plea is dismissed.

Crusade does slip up every now and then and a ‘Carrier’ will slip—often hushed and annoyed though as Megs does like to tease every now and then, gotta remind them that they’re still his baby every once in a while :’)

Optimus however—whenever him and Crusade should truly reunite, will never be called Sire by Crusade, which they so heatedly established early on—Crusade never needed one and they don’t need one now, better to not let the title trigger those long-suppressed emotions. Sure enough though Optimus will get his moment.

actually no lmfao so you’re good! Eh, I haven’t mentioned much plot w them outside of them and Megs, plus bits of potential interactions with Optimus—so the rest of Team Prime is free game :D

For what I (hopefully will have) planned, their interactions with team Prime will be eh,,,interesting to each their own to say the least. Some more stressful than others BUT let’s not get into that until I’ve worked it out—for now I’ll just mention what they’re dynamics would be like when the drama of Oh Shit Boss Bot You’ve Been Hiding a Kid For HOW LONG has died down.

A usually touch-wary Crusade actually is the one to initiate a hug with Bulkhead, he’s the biggest and warmest and somehow is always happy to see them. Plus he tells cool recaps of Earth films and gifts them strange blobish paintings every now and then, all of which Crusade doesn’t exactly understand, but at least the colors are pretty.

Bee is annoying,,,which is what Crusade would say if confronted if they actually liked all the shenanigans Bee suggest they pull together, prank wars to the max, sparring for fun, video games?, DOUGHNUTS and RACES in the fortress halls??? Ahem. they are a super serious soldier, not a hooligan. But honestly, Bee is the one they seek out the most should they need an adventure, they missed out on a lot of this ‘fun’ growing up on the Nemesis—Bee seems to know how to balance a day of soldiering and dumbassery. sometimes.

Ratchet reminds them a bit too much of their Carrier than they’d care to admit. The medic is an old soul to his very core, perpetually tired but quick to snap into work mode, and sweet if you reallllllly squint. Sadie has been taught from day one to always respect medics, Ratchet obviously takes the cake on I’ve Seen Some Shit and for that alone Crusade both fears and admires Ratchet. Again, growing up on the Nemesis they didn’t have too many bots willing to talk much with them—but Ratchet (after he’s gone through his own lot of therapy, him AND Arcee. good lord) has a never ending pile of stories to share with them. Ratchet may throw in a few more colorful curses than necessary—which is SURPRISING bc Crusade thought they’d heard them all back home, but he’s entertaining and tells Crusade how it is, no sugarcoating. For that Crusade is grateful, there’s been too many half-truths thrown about to them in their recent years :’)

Ghost Prowl freaks them out—why does he deliberately have to be so sneaky?? Crusade has only met Prowl a fleeting handful of times (visits from the Allspark come with meaning, you know) and each time Crusade has been given nothing but odd riddles and poetic nonsense. Kidding. Prowl does like his wordplay’s but his given advice is always well meaning—the most firm and direct message Crusade has been passed though was probably most definitely “ Get those two cowards for mecha you call your Creator’s to stop fooling around with each other and SPEAK—at this rate it’s physically paining me that they haven’t begun Ritus and they’re not getting any younger”

Team Prime adores Sadie, they ask Megatron to see their sparkling photos every chance they catch him. And Crusade. hates it.

:) have

We’ve been here before, haven’t we?

[extasiswings]

you make my heart beat

I played myself...anyway, if you’re interested in the post that inspired this, it’s here, asking how I would write a forgotten first meeting + hospital AU.  Also on ao3 here.  Have about 2k of Buck and nurse!Eddie set between seasons 2 and 3. 

Eddie is at the reception desk reading a chart when a cup of coffee slides over the counter and settles by his forearm. He glances up—

“Usually it’s the doctors bringing me bribes, not the patients,” he says, a small smile curving his lips. “Last I checked, you didn’t have charts for me to transcribe for you—what’s this for then?”

Buck shrugs and leans forward, elbows on the counter.

“Who says it’s a bribe? I can’t just do something nice for my favorite nurse?”

Eddie closes the chart and picks up the cup—his eyes slip closed as espresso and cinnamon bursts across his tongue, and he barely holds back a groan—fuck, but it’s been a long shift.

“Thank you,” he replies. “Did I know you were coming in today?”

Buck shakes his head. “Last minute check-up. Got new scans on Monday—if everything looks good, Dr. Graves should clear me to take my recertification test.”

There’s a hopeful note in his tone even as Eddie catches the flicker of nervousness that passes through his eyes, and Eddie thinks about running into him a few months earlier, about I don’t know who I am without the uniform, and reaches out. His hand curves around Buck’s elbow where it rests on the counter—it makes his breathing go a little unsteady, touching Buck without the justification and distance provided by clinical professionalism, but the touch elicits a soft smile that does funny things to his heart, so Eddie can’t quite regret it either.

“That’s really great, Buck,” he says quietly. “I’m happy for you.”

One of the new residents comes around the corner and Eddie clears his throat as he pulls back his hand.

“I guess I know what the bribe was for then,” he teases, trying to push them back to their prior, lighthearted zone. “You just wanted me to do your work-up instead of Shirley.”

Buck laughs. “Can you blame me?” He asks. “She’s mean and her hands are always cold.”

“You complain that I’m mean all the time,” Eddie shoots back as he logs into the computer to check Buck in.

“Yeah, well, maybe I—” Buck cuts himself off and Eddie glances up in time to catch the flush darkening his cheeks. There are a lot of ways that sentence could end and all of them make his own face heat.

Maybe it’s silly—he’s an adult, he’s single, he gets flirted with all the time, even, or maybe especially by Buck, he shouldn’t get flustered. But it’s because it is Buck and not just any random patient or family member that he does. Because Eddie doesn’t know what he’s doing but he wants—

He busies himself grabbing a clipboard and a check-in form and clears his throat again before looking up.

“Come on, I’ll take you back.”

“Thanks, Eddie,” Buck replies, and his smile is back, the soft one. It’s only because Eddie’s distracted by it that he notices the way it twists into a grimace when Buck takes a step.

Eddie’s brow furrows. “You okay?”

Buck waves him off. “Fine, just—I’ve been training a lot so I can take my test as soon as I’m cleared. Must have pulled a muscle or something. Twinged a little is all.”

Eddie makes a note on the clipboard and Buck groans.

“No, come on—I pulled a muscle, I’m fine, you don’t have to write that down.”

“Maybe you pulled a muscle, maybe it’s nothing—regardless, Dr. Graves should know that you’re having leg pain just in case,” Eddie says. He pauses and narrows his eyes. “You weren’t going to tell him.”

“Because it’s nothing,” Buck insists. “Come on, Nurse Diaz, isn’t there some saying about hearing hoofbeats and thinking horses, not zebras?”

Eddie steers Buck down the hall to an exam room.

“Yeah, sure. I’ve heard it,” he replies.

“So?”

“So…” They step through the door and Eddie nods at the exam table before reaching for a blood pressure cuff. “There are a lot of very common things that could be causing pain in a limb that you’ve had multiple surgeries on, only one of which is that you pulled a muscle, and some of which could be serious. No zebras required. I’m not taking the note off the chart and you’re not going to lie when you get asked about it, okay?”

He fastens the cuff around Buck’s arm and presses a button to start the reading—he can’t help the way his lips twitch at Buck’s exasperated look.

“Little pressure,” he adds, and Buck rolls his eyes.

“I should have taken my chances with Shirley,” Buck grumbles.

“Yeah, well, if there’s a next time you can bring her coffee instead—I hear she likes hazelnut lattes.”

The cuff loosens, the monitor beeps. Eddie scribbles down the number. It’s a little high—Eddie glances over, takes in the tension in Buck’s shoulders, and bites his cheek.

“It’ll be okay,” he says, even though he usually tries to avoid promising patients anything. “Best case, they run a few more scans and waste a couple hours of your afternoon to find out that you’re right and perfectly fine. Worst case, something’s wrong and they catch it now and fix it and you’re still on track to get back to work, just maybe a couple weeks later than you planned.”

“It’s already been five months,” Buck sighs, his fingers raking through his hair.

“I know it’s frustrating—”

“How’s Christopher?” Buck interrupts, and Eddie levels him with a sharp look for the obvious deflection, but allows the subject change as he logs into the exam room computer.

“He’s good,” he replies. “Great, actually. Keeps asking about you—he, uh, he had a really great time the other day, even if it was just hanging around here. I can’t thank you enough for watching him.”

It’s not something Eddie normally would have done at all, but his abuela had a fall, Pepa had to go back to work, he couldn’t take off because they were already short-staffed with three other nurses out with the flu—

And Buck had just…been there. Finished with his physical therapy and offering to stick around so Eddie could finish his shift, all smiles and no judgment, and after five months…well, they’re something like friends, right? They're...something, anyway.

“He’s an amazing kid, and it was the best day I’ve had in…awhile, actually,” Buck admits. “You really don’t have to keep thanking me. I would do it again any time.”

I do, though, Eddie thinks, but he bites it back. He bites back, I’d like that, too.

He finishes filling in the intake information and steps back.

“You should be all set. The doctor will be in any minute.” He pauses before he reaches the door. Swallows.

“Find me after?” He asks. “Let me know how it goes? I’m on until four.”

“I’ll find you,” Buck promises. “Have to say I told you so when it turns out I just pulled a muscle.”

“I’ll be glad to hear it,” Eddie replies. He gets one more smile to sustain him before he walks out, leaving Buck behind.

He’ll see Buck later.

Except…he doesn’t. The rest of his shift passes without another sign of the other man and the gnawing worry in his gut worsens. The exam room is empty when he checks, he doesn’t have any new pages or texts—it would be easy to pull Buck’s chart and find out if something happened, but that feels like it would cross a line when it’s not strictly necessary—

He shoots off a text of his own, but there’s still no reply by the time he’s showered and changed out of his scrubs.

It’s happenstance that he runs into Dr. Graves’ favorite resident outside the locker room.

“Hey, Cassie—Graves had a patient today, Evan Buckley? I did the intake, and I was wondering—”

“Oh, he was admitted,” she says. “Room 312, I think.”

Eddie’s stomach drops. Sometimes he hates being right.

“Thanks,” he says faintly. She gives him a distracted hum, preoccupied by responding to a text, and Eddie heads to the elevators.

“Hey,” he greets a few minutes later, leaning against the doorway in Buck’s room. His hands are shoved in his pockets and he’s not entirely sure whether to cross the threshold.

Buck looks…tired. Frustrated. Upset. Raw. He tries to cover it when he sees Eddie, but it doesn’t fully work.

Eddie’s heart aches.

“Blood clots,” Buck sighs with a rueful shrug. “On the screws in my leg. They said it was lucky they caught it before one broke off and traveled anywhere, or it could have killed me. Guess you saved my life, Nurse Diaz.”

“Well…” Eddie weighs his hesitation against his desire to be closer and ultimately pushes off the doorframe to step inside. “You are my favorite patient. Who else is going to bring me coffee if you died?”

“Oh, I’m sure a lot of people would be more than happy to do that,” Buck replies. “I’m picturing a line around the block here.”

Eddie settles into the chair next to the bed.

“I think you’re vastly overestimating there, but—” Eddie wets his lips as he meets Buck’s gaze. Fuck, he’s not good at this, but he would do just about anything to bring Buck’s smile back. “—but, for whatever it’s worth, I wouldn’t want anyone else to.”

“Because I’m your favorite patient?” The look in Buck’s eyes is hopeful but wary, the kind of look that says despite his easy flirtations, he’s been burned before and expects to be again. And maybe it’s that honest vulnerability that finally unsticks Eddie’s tongue because when he opens his mouth to respond, what comes out is—

“You’re not just a patient, Buck. Not to me. You have to know that.”

“Do I?”

The skepticism feels like a challenge and Eddie rises to it by leaning in—he slides his fingers into Buck’s hair and closes the gap, kissing him once, twice, as Buck makes a startled sound against his lips and curls his own fingers into Eddie’s shirt to kiss him back.

“I don’t do that with just anyone,” Eddie breathes when he pulls back. “And I definitely don’t let them meet my son. Clear enough?”

Buck clears his throat, and nods, flushed and a little dazed in a way that makes Eddie bite back a grin.

“Speaking of, I have to go pick him up, but…” Eddie steals another kiss. “I’ll come see you tomorrow? And maybe we can…talk about this a little more?”

“I’d like that,” Buck admits. “And—Eddie—I—” His throat works as he swallows.

“Thank you,” he says finally. “For not letting me brush it off.”

Eddie’s thumb rubs against the edge of Buck’s jaw before he finally drops his hand.

“I care about you. Part of that means wanting to see you care about yourself,” he replies. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

Buck looks like he might argue with that, but ultimately just tugs Eddie in for one final kiss before releasing him.

“Tell Christopher I said hi.”

“I will.”