#this has been a bit of an issue for a while

[delicateartisantrash]

I will be Archive Protecting/Locking all my Works soon - You'll need an A03 account to view them </3

Hey, soooo-- On the advice of others, imma look at Archive protecting my fics. Imma be doing this ~sometime this week~ and it will be applied to any future works I post, as well.

I've been advised that "Archive locking" (turning on 'show this work only to logged in users' meaning you have to have an A03 account to view the fic or download it) does in fact help protect work from scrapper bots effectively

^The scrapper bot could theoretically be provided login credentials by someone making an account for said bot.... but A03 apparently has safeblocks against exactly that, a limit to how many fics can be downloaded and the like, so it's literally not worth their time to do it

I already submitted a DCMA takedown request and all that jazz, but from reading up on the ongoing issue...

A little bit of protection to save some offense and headache, is something i feel pretty good doing. I don't mind people writing things inspired by my stories-- but I *do* mind some random asshole scraping an entire archive of people's freely provided art so they can feed it into AI models that will then be used without an ounce of credit to who they worked from. There's plenty of crap in the public domain and freely available that they can perfectly well compile to make those datasets *respectfully* they don't need to be stealing a darn thing! It's laziness, and it pisses me off like nothing else.

I spend hours-- No, actually, I spend my lifetime drafting and writing these stories. They're always rolling around in my head. I go out of my way to experience things I've never done if only because it'll be great information if I ever write about it. I'm running intense simulations of different timelines, different point of views, plugging in pieces and removing parts just to see how it might affect the narrative and then deciding whether to commit that to the written pages or not.

It's truly my greatest pleasure to share them with ya'll, and I'm so terribly sorry if archive locking my works causes any inconvenience. I really think this is the smartest move right now I can make for reasonably protecting my work in a cyberspace full of data-hungry trolls, while still keeping it available freely to those who enjoy a good story.

If there is anyone who has a guest account and has been reading my works, and for whatever reason cannot access an A03 account creation-- please message me <3 I'll do my best to set you up with the future chapters somehow.

AO3 has been scraped, once again.

As of the time of this post, AO3 has been scraped by yet another shady individual looking to make a quick buck off the backs of hardworking hobby writers. This Reddit post here has all the details and the most current information. In short, if your fic URL ends in a number between 1 and 63,200,000 (inclusive), AND is not archive locked, your fic has been scraped and added to this database.

I have been trying to hold off on archive locking my fics for as long as possible, and I've managed to get by unscathed up to now. Unfortunately, my luck has run out and I am archive locking all of my current and future stories. I'm sorry to my lovelies who read and comment without an account; I love you all. But I have to do what is best for me and my work. Thank you for your understanding.

[ccazimi]

cw: crack, fluff, smut, dubcon, panty sniffing/stealing, scent kink, etc. (he's literally part animal what do you expect)

tiger hybrid!sukuna who's prissy and sassy, much like an actual housecat. picky about everything, from the temperature and consistency of his food to the way his water tastes to what a light sleeper he is. sometimes you talk to him, and if he doesn't feel like responding, he literally won't even turn his head to you - all you'll get is an annoyed flick of his ear to tell you that he does hear you, he's just actively choosing to ignore you.

tiger hybrid!sukuna who has a serious issue with boundaries. he's allowed to ignore you if he feels like it, but you dare try and do the same thing back? unacceptable. will be extremely miffed if your attention isn't on him at all times. yes, even when he actively acts like he doesn't want it.

not to mention you need to deal with him literally getting offended at the fact that you wear clothes around him even though "it's just you two in the house" and on more than one occasion will you be absolutely mortified when you find he’s been stealing your dirty panties- he, of course, doesn’t get the big deal.

oh, you thought that was bad? wait till you find that he insists that you sleep naked with him, and your nightly ritual includes him not only licking you clean (at least your face and neck) but sniffing down your entire body. yes, the entire thing. the part where he gets to your pussy is the worst for you, and the best for him. and whenever he gets down between your thighs to smell you, he makes this weird face almost automatically, with his lips pulled back to show off those fangs and mouth a bit open somewhere between a snarl and a smirk, like he’s trying to taste the scent

tiger hybrid!sukuna who has a special vomeronasal organ at the roof of his mouth that can pick up pheromones—and that weird thing he does, when he opens his mouth while sniffing your pussy? yeah, that’s him drawing the scent in deeper, some focused, instinctual decoding process of your sexual health

"you're ovulating, probably peaked this morning. also you're kinda stressed...maybe you need to sleep more," he graciously informs you of his findings between your spread thighs. "oh and your pH is a little off. maybe skip that stupid new soap you got next time."

he looks up at you expectantly—clearly waiting for your gratitude. and you know he won’t finish this whole ridiculous routine until you sigh and say, flat as ever, "thanks for that. can we sleep now?"

"you've got two days left if you're trying to get pregnant, by the way."

you shoot him something between a glare and a grimace.

tiger hybrid!sukuna can pick up everything, but there are two times of the month when he can pick up those smells even with just his normal nostrils. the first one -obviously- is when you’re ovulating. but the only thing worse than the scent of you ovulating, is the smell that envelops you right before you get your period. “worse” in the sense that it drives him completely insane. sweet, cloyingly thick, warm. in fact he blames you for tempting him. you'll be innocently doing the dishes or something when suddenly it's too much for him and he pounces on you from behind, wrapping his arms around you to keep you in place, claws instinctively pushing out to dig into your skin so tight it hurts.

of course you panic, squirming as he begins rutting into the curve of your ass, his cock quickly swelling up till it's very noticeable. and the scent of him that becomes so much stronger when he's...excited like this - warm, musky, all iron and spice, wrapping around you.

"sukuna- let me- go!" you try as you struggle in his grasp, but it's too late he's too far gone, just mindlessly grunting and growling as he chases his release, too desperate to even fuck you properly. "almost there, just a bit more," he pants, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply. "it's your fault anyway, walking around like -hah- i can't smell your pussy fucking begging for me." and right as you're about to splash some cold water on him, you hear him groan filthy, and guttural, as he finishes in his pants just from grinding against you.

and that's when he finally comes to his senses, trying to retract his claws to let go of you. unfortunately they get stuck in the fabric of your clothing, and he just panics making them get even more tangled while you yell at him to stop moving so that you can unhook his claws. finally you turn with your arms crossed, giving him the coldest, and most stern look of all time. he stares at you guiltily, a large wet patch forming on the crotch of his pants where his cum seeps through.

it's not his fault -not exactly- like any good hybrid he needs to be trained, and soon enough you've corrected that little problem of his (mostly)

tiger hybrid!sukuna is intensely territorial, especially when it comes to you. so when you come home smelling even faintly like another man? he’s agitated to no end — not even jealous, exactly, he just feels like it’s wrong. soon after come several arguments his way about “how he can’t piss around your house to mark his territory” or about how “it’s completely unacceptable to leave long clawed scratch marks on the walls or furniture”

tiger hybrid!sukuna who simply cannot keep his hands off you when you're on your period. this time he doesn't touch you (too much) without your permission, but he will beg you incessantly till you finally give in. and that's how you end up with your clothes shredded, and him biting and sucking every inch of your body hungrily as he makes his way down, tail wrapping possessively around you to keep you in place

tiger hybrid!sukuna with long sharp fangs that make his kisses hurt just a little, especially when gets too excited and nips your skin, drawing just a bit of blood that he happily licks up. he loves when they scar a bit too, just so that you’re marked as his.

tiger hybrid!sukuna with rough, spiked papillae on his tongue meant for cleaning raw flesh off bone that are now scraping against the bud of your stiff nipple. you gasp and writhe, and he knows he can't lick you nipples too much (as much he wants to) or it'll really start to hurt.

tiger hybrid!sukuna eats you out like he eats wild prey, teeth just shy of nipping your clit as he laps at your cunt. and of course the rough sandpaper texture of his tongue against your swollen nub feels like nothing else - a bit painful, borderline overstimulating, but so good at the same time. but just like with your nipples he has to be carefully so he doesn't seriously hurt you down there.

tiger hybrid!sukuna who just can't help himself from pinning your thighs open almost painfully as you cum, just to stick his tongue inside your hole and finally taste the leaking sweetness that's been teasing him for days. even when you're done, he continues to lick your pussy gently, almost affectionately. you squirm a little from the slight overstimulation but just let him do his thing as he laps your folds clean, deep purrs rumbling from inside his chest as he does so

[theallianceofcelestials]

Update on the AI scrapping situation

I really wish I didn't have to make another post about this, but here we are.

The AO3 dataset, while currently unavaible on the HuggingFace website. has been made into a downloadable, still avaible Torrent file by the person who scrapped AO3

And all the others are avaible here too!

This person scrapped all of these works, whether they be drawings or writings, for AI purposes and to sell them!

The website datafish, the one these are avaible on, is based in Russia, and from what I know it's not responding to DMCAs. Despite all these datasets consisting of stolen work, so far nothing has been done against these!

This was brought to my attention by @mazois in the previous post's comment section, and I've did a little bit of further digging into this, but just know I'm not an expert in this! I'm just another scared person who's work was stolen

This dataset is still downloadable! This can still be downloaded and used by anyone who wishes for it!

Now I really hate doing these tumblr posts, mostly because I shouldn't need to, but also because I kind of feel like I'm bothering people with this, but I just want everyone to have a chance to do something about this.

Right now I don't know if the same approach will work with this one. Even enough DMCAs get filed, maybe something will get done. But I don't know. All I know is that these things are still avaible, even at least one of those that were deleted off of HuggingFace

Now I've tagged the same things as before, with a couple extra added tags, and I'll also link the last post relating to this issue here

Now, while this is a shitty situation, please do not harrass this person! Not because of the whole don't get on their level or whatever, but because it might help them get these datasets back online if they can say they've been harrassed over this! If we want something to get done about this, we must not give this person ground to push back!

Sorry to bother everyone about this again, but I wanted to share this in case someone wanted to know this.

[voidofthevoidmv]

TAKING SHIFTS- A classic Stanley Pines adopts the shapeshifter AU-> Little info dump

Basic gist of it is that post portal accident, Stanley is trying his damndest to get his brother back by fixing the portal- Which logically requires that Stanley get all the journals so that he actually has a full blueprint to look at.

However, in his search for any of the journals, he discovers some kind of top secret tree bunker- Classic Ford antics. He investigates the bunker, only to find some kind of kid monster, who is under the impression that Stan is his own brother and tries to kill him. The only thing that convinces the creature that Stan is NOT Ford, is the fact that Stan has a mullet and his brother does not. Would you be surprised to discover that the mullet would play a deeper role in things than at first glance? Not me, but I think it’s very funny anyways.

The monster kid is revealed to be some kind of alien shapeshifter thing, and upon realizing that Stanley is some kind of Ford doppleganger, the shapeshifter suddenly becomes the most clingy kid ever, following Stan around throughout the bunker like a lost duckling. Stanley tries to be chill about it, but the memories of being attacked are still pretty fresh in his brain.

After a bit the two will leave the bunker, yadda yadda yadda dialogue, and Stanley will be concerned to find that this kid hasn’t had the best upbringing in the world so far- If the limited English and big eyed staring at the sky was anything to go by. While Stan has half a mind to leave this monster kid to the wild, he apparently has these weird issues with abandonment. Something about seeing himself in the little monster kid. So he takes him back to the shack, helping the shapeshifter pick a name that isn’t a weird number. They eventually land on Simon, which is a play on Simon Says, because of course any name idea Stanley has it just HAS to be a pun.

And of course, taking in this shapeshifter will trigger changes to the timeline that will affect how things will go from here on out. A lot of wholesome, father kid bonding and found family stuff.

Other unmentioned information and idea snippets:

-The journals are found much sooner than in canon, which means Ford is brought back sooner than in canon. Journal 2 is found first, due to the fact that Stanley has Simon (Shifty) enrolled in elementary school, which just so happens to be were one of the journals are hidden. Simon finds it and recognizes it- And Stan is so proud. Meanwhile, later on journal 3 is found by Soos in a situation similar to canon, but like- Soosified.

-Stanley is constantly wracked with guilt as time goes on, because he will hear about of make a realization about the poor treatment of Simon by Ford and his assistant in the past- All while Stanley is still actively working to bring him back. Simon doesn’t know that it’s FORD that Stan is trying to bring back, which will only result in some betrayal later on when Ford inevitably returns.

-Simon, Tate, and Soos act almost as siblings, due to circumstances that bring them together at different points in time. Tate is Simon’s best friend, a friendship which had blossomed when Emma-May showed up to the Pines cabin door, demanding that she see her ex husband and that she has some WORDS to say to the homewrecking scientist who ruined everything. Stanley had never been more confused about anything- But while Stanley is trying his best to save the situation, Tate and Simon hit it off quickly despite the broken language barrier. Meanwhile, Soos come in later when both Simon and Stan are a bit older. Stan and Soos’s relationship is similar to how it played out in canon, but Simon gets really jealous. May or may not try to kill Soos because of it- But it’s ok cuz once Soos’s natural charm infects Simon, the big brother little brother dynamic is born.

-Simon practically idolizes Stan, and makes it a point to have his human form reflect that. He has a mullet, and it reminds him that Stan is Stan- Even after Stan cuts the mullet off so he could be a bit more business appropriate. Simon also has little freckles cuz he saw the little baby Boyish Dan and just immediately was like- Oh I want those too-

-The shapeshifter will also have his own little book of “forms” he could take. He has photos and information of various creatures, things, and people- I want you to envision how this book looks and is treated like a Pokémon card collection binder. The shapeshifter may get into photography. By the time the little twins Dipper and Mable show up, it’s not the journals that they find- But Simon’s shifting scrapbook. Which is how they find themselves getting involved in the spooky stuff in the first place.

-Because of Simon and Fords earlier arrival, the younger Pines twins adventures in Gravity Falls are a tad bit tweaked. Simon is a very powerful shapeshifter who is plenty protective of his little niblings- The Mcguckets are somewhat healthy with the whole divorced situation, and Bill is not an issue alongside Gideon… Everything else is free game though. Pretty silly.

- The way that Fiddleford is introduced to the duo is that at some point, Stan gets his memories of Simon wiped causing severe emotional distress- And it’s lowkey kinda heartbreaking. (The blind eye sees Simon shifting in front of Stan and assumes the worst.) Once Stan gets his memories back, it’s the beginning of a warpath. (And also the end of Fiddlefords crazy cultist arc- Which is good for Tate who really likes hanging around his bestie.)

-Hijinks WILL ensue, especially after Ford comes back. Probably some other tidbits I’m missing, but that’s a problem for another day- If this interest you folks anyways- Lemmy know if this is interesting or anything and feel free to ask questions. I haven’t thought so much as to how Bill gets defeated earlier and everything- But if anyone has any cool ideas I’d be open to it. Unsure if I’ll ever get to writing this one ����

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hi sex witch, recently got a new boyfriend and he told me that he can't climax with sex, only when he watches porn. I'm not sure how to feel about this and if there's anything I can do. I know I shouldn't think it's me but it just keeps popping up in my head that I'm not doing good enough. Is there anything to be done about it or do I have to just get over this?

hi anon,

sounds like he could watch less porn!

that's not me being flippant, that's recognition that he's trained himself to only get off one way and has let everything else atrophy a bit. it's the same reason that I have a hard time at the rock climbing gym if I try to climb a wall without using on of my arms, right? I have to potential to climb one-handed, sure, but I've never practiced doing that, so it feels weird and unnatural. or, like, swimming, right? theoretically every person has the potential to swim, but if you never learned or even if you're out of practice you're not going to be a natural on the first try. your body needs time and repetition for it to feel comfortable, and even more repetition and time to get good at it. this one's not a metaphor for sex, it's just actually about sex: I've been getting off without any kind of penetration for years, and I'm still figuring out when and how I like that and how to make it comfortable. sexual learning is a lifelong process!

I think it's also important to recognize that nothing happening here is your fault - if my climbing buddy stands on the ground cheering me on while I try to climb with one hand, no amount of enthusiasm will make up for the fact that I'm not very good at climbing one-handed. the issue is with me and my need for practice, not what anyone else is doing.

it's not a crime to not be able to climax during sex, of course; that's something that's true of many people and they're perfectly fine without it. but it's clearly bothering you, and you're allowed to be bothered by things. if it's bothering him, too, I'd sincerely recommend that he kick the porn and start learning how to get off in other ways.

[demon-at-peace]

DC + DP

Danny was supposed to be on the run from the GIW. Which he was, don't he didn't get him wrong, but he'd only had a few run ins with them, in Chicago, and NYC mainly. The foster care system was another issue. Somehow social workers were more competent than the GIW.

The first time he'd run in with them had been in Missuiri, accurate to the name it was miserable. He knew he had a baby face, he hadn't aged since he'd died after all. But was eighteen really such a stretch? he was sixteen after all!

Apparently it was, because they found the abandoned warehouse he was staying in and put him in foster care. He wasn't too happy about that. But he stayed, the Mathews were nice if a bit odd, but the GIW came to town and he ran.

They found him. So he ran again. Eventually he stopped staying stopped waiting for the ball to drop and just ran first chance he got. They started putting him in places for bad kids, places that had top notch security, still he ran. The foster system, infamously known as being terrible, kept finding him. They didn't put him in good homes, but they found him. He kept running.

Danny was done with it. Until he found Gotham, because their foster kid was practically nonexistent. It didn't really have other perks, but Danny didn't really have other options. So Gotham it was. The city was basically hell. Kinda, in reality it was just full of organized crime, violence, and death. A whole lot of death.

The dead roamed the streets, except they weren't ghosts. They were shades. Contrary to popular opinion they aren't the same.

Ghosts are their own being, an aspect of their past but not the full thing. Ghosts had moved on from their deaths. They were beings of the infinity realms. But shades are beings of the living realm. Because while they are dead, they linger, because they haven't accepted their deaths.

Danny knows he would have been a shade had he not been a halfa, he would have been watching waiting, for years. So he talks with them, to those who don't accept it, and they move on. Slowly losing the doubts from their life.

He talks and they help him in return. Shades after all understand humans, ghosts don't. They understand doubts and worries and pain. So they help him, they show him the cheapest stores. the crime free places. The best places to get free food, where to find shelter. The parts of the sewers where Grundy or Killer Croc don't roam.

So he learns, quick and fast, he knows Gotham in a way no one else does. The dead guide him. But the dead are not the only otherworldly inhabitants of Gotham. The city herself is ancient, a city spirit with so much power it's otherworldly. yet she smiles upon him.

He doesn't quite know why, he is young, weak in comparison, and yet when he asks she answers "You protect things, my city needs more defenders." He takes the duty with pride. He cannot be Phantom, but he's Danny. He's reckless perhaps, but he defends. He doesn't fail.

Ever.

Despite never failing, he gains attention. The protectors of Gotham notice him. The first time he meets them it's after a knife wound. He knows taking on the guy was dumb, but he wasn't about to let that girl get hurt. Or even worse r@ped,

He's taller, a red helmet and leather jacket. Just jazz's type. Danny meets his eyes evenly, he's dead. Partially, really it's been ages since he met someone who's contaminated. But he ignores it because they look at him with anger.

"What the fuck kid?" His tone is gruff, harsh grating, he clearly had a voice changer Danny notes. "Don't do that again, ever," the warning is ominous, Danny has no intention to listen.

so he vanishes, fleeing from Gotham's beloved knight and hiding. He feels guilty, that he's not listening. But he can't, because the shades are there. Begging him to help their home. So he does, he listens.

But he's not doing enough, he knows that. But he can't be phantom. he'll die. He doesn't want to die again. Not at the GIW's hands.

But Gotham needs him. So he fights harder. Night after night, he takes bullets, shuts down drug rings. He shuts down a trafficking ring and shows the meta kids how he can float. They giggle and laugh. It reminds him why it's worth it.

The second time he meets one of them it's a kid, Robin they call him, he's outnumbered, yet he's holding his own. Danny helps anyway. "Go away!" the kid demands, worry in his voice.

Danny doesn't care, he fights, and he takes them out. it's easy really, fighting. He's used to it, they don't even have guns tonight. The kid fights too, with worry in his eyes as he looks at Danny. Danny knows Robin doesn't want him in his city, but Danny can't leave. He won't.

Red Robin is next, blue eyes,and he moves like grace, Danny's hurt he knows, the shades muttering, scolding. He knows getting hurt makes stuff harder, he's such an idiot. And Red Robin reaches for him.

"Are you hurt?" he calls. He's judging him, Danny knows, telling him that he's weak. And he's right, so he runs. The shades guide him and he vanishes.

He meets Nightwing later that week, in the middle a taking down a drug ring, Danny fights, and he does too.

"Hey!" he calls. Danny runs, he's mad, Danny knows it's his fault for interfering, he didn't mean too. He did, he won't stop. He;s sorry.

Two days latter he is confronted by the bat, "Why are you here? Don't you have somewhere else?" he asks. Get out is what he's sayying, Danny can't there's no where else that's safe. Nowhere where he'll be okay.

So he runs.

---------

In case you didn't notice Danny's unreliable in this. So ha ha yeah the bats are trying to help and he's freaking out. So the bats perspective is coming up soon!

so kinda freaking out, so yesterday I felt bad, like puked and then just fainted, my roommate dragged me to bed, she thought I just fell asleep on the floor cause I've done that before. Am fine but thought I'd share?

also love ya'll! and I'm working on my Danny/Dick thing fingers crossed I'll be finished with part 4 soon!

Bye!

[creatingblackcharacters]

So, this might seem a bit out of place but I wanted to thank you for something

I'm a mixed white latine who was raised with the idea that my hair wasn't meant to be curly or have curls. As an adult though, my hair has gone from 2a to 3c which is even curlier than my dad's hair who I got those genes from

Because of this I got a lot of identity issues and self-care problems when it comes to my hair. I never knew what shampoo to use or how to comb it or how to draw myself, and like, because of this blog I'm not only learning things about depicting Black characters and characters of color, I'm learning about myself? I don't have Black hair or anything of course but, I am finally starting to feel less insecure about my hair you know? It's the closest I've ever gotten to feeling seen for what I really am

Sorry if this doesn't make any sense, in any case please just understand I'm very very grateful for everything you do in this blog, you deserve the world 💕💕💕

I'm glad to hear that you're learning how to love yourself through being around community, and that you chose to take it as a way to learn about and love yourself while celebrating others, rather than a threat or an insult to your own identity. God knows you're catching on to something white folk desperately need to. I'm happy to hear this space has been healing enough for you to do this!

[sthilarions]

(We’re working in a slight AU where cats can see ghosts but can’t talk because otherwise this would get weird. I considered a bunny or a ferret to avoid the issue but - whatever. Anyway)

Charles faced Edwin’s empty chair behind the desk, addressing it, in the empty office. “Edwin. So - I know you’re going to be kind of mad. And I know about the Puppy Debacle. And that was bad all around, you were all the way right that time, I’m not saying you weren’t. But after the case at the shelter today - it’s just, he reminded me so much of you, with that little head tilt, yeah?”

He paused. “And we have Crystal and Niko around now anyway so it’s not like we’re still keeping the no living rule, at this point, and, he’s got this little marking on his neck like your bowtie, and he came right up to me to play but then this big guy came in and he curled up against the wall and he looked just like you did in - and there’s no version of this where I don’t come get you, is there, even if you’re a cat, and - ”

He smacked himself, hard, on the head, with his free hand. “Fucking stupid, Charles, why would you even say that? You’re gonna have to come up with something way better than that. Fuck.”

There was a sound from behind him and Charles jumped violently and hid his cargo in his coat. He did not turn around.

“Charles,” Edwin said, from behind him. “You are not stupid, fucking or otherwise. However - ” he paused. “I don’t suppose you could turn around?”

Charles shook his head. “I’d rather not just at the mo’, mate,” he said, holding his coat shut.

“As you wish. As I was saying, to you instead of to an empty chair, I will note, I, ah, I know I was the one to initially stand against the Infamous Puppy Debacle of ‘94, but it has been thirty-one years since then, and our lifestyles have shifted, and the circumstances are rather different now than then. She’s not a hellhound, to start with - ”

“Wait, hang on,” Charles said. “Whaddayamean, ‘she’?”

Edwin took a deep breath. He was getting better at doing that without being told. “When we were separated, at the shelter. And I was looking in their Special Care area. They said she had been - ” Edwin broke off.

“Hurt,” he continued, “for a while, but she’s ready to adopt now, they just hadn’t moved her out yet to keep things familiar for her. And she came up to me immediately, even though she looked so scared when I walked in, and you know dogs can’t see our disguises so she must have had a near-death experience before, and she licked my hand, which was a very slimy experience but we can find a way to protect the books and ingredients and other items, I’m sure there must be an anti-drool charm somewhere, and when the poltergeist started attacking she tried to get in between it and me even though she was trembling, you may have heard the barking before I got back to you? And they said that Saint Bernards are actually quite good in flats, so long as they get walks, and - ”

Sometime partway through that monologue Charles had spun around. He wasn’t quite sure when, because he’d immediately had his brain go almost completely blank at the sight of the absolutely massive dog standing, jowls in what looked kinda like a loose grin, dangling long trails of drool, at Edwin’s side.

Edwin finally cut himself off, looking down towards Charles’s chest, where his coat had fallen open when his arms loosened as a result of his shock. “And they said she’s very good with cats,” Edwin concluded. “So that’s all right.”

Charles bent over in delighted laughter, careful not to squeeze the cat in his arms. “Well,” he said, after getting the laughter under control a bit, “they told me this little guy was very good with dogs. So I guess that works out.”

Charles looked at the dog for a minute, and Edwin looked at the cat for a minute, and then they both spoke at the same second. “Crystal’s going to be furious.”

[goodoldmila]

The thing with romancing Lucanis in the game is that I love all the versions and cannot decide.

I love the idea that 'an hour found' could be a kiss or more, or his silly little notes about exercises interpreted as intimacy. There is so mamy wonderful interpretations of how it could have gone down and my own imagination loves to fill the gaps and give Rook and him a sweet little moment here and there among the madness.

BUT I equally (or maybe even a little more) ADORE that they really just haven't. That it's a relationship that's l purely just the emotional intimacy at first, for a good while, and that Rook is the one who'd be happy to do everything but is willing to put their desires aside to give him the space he needs. That Rook is a safe space enough that he can just take his time to take apart whatever reasons he has to keep a distance - and he has many!

Having a bit too much on his plate aside, he's been tortured in all kinds of ways, I imagine even a gentle physical touch may be something he needs to ease into, that may just be the case even before the Ossuary to an extent since he probably didn't receive much affection.

His lack of experience - and I mean literally experiencing such feelings - may be something he needs to slowly unpack. Perhaps he only ever felt such way about Viago (I wouldn't say there was many if any other people) and even then those were not allowed to expand as much as with Rook. Maybe he questions if the feelings are truly his or a reflection if Spite's fascination.

And what I boil it down to at the end, as he slowly manages to make sense of it all and tackle and unwrap his issues within himself, he finally has this person he cares for, he wants, and it will never be his own. Nevermind the implication towards Rook? How does that work? How does one have that conversation with either of them?

Spite's part of him and whether they get along or not, whether you imagine Spite leaving them 'alone' or prticipating, it's an experience he had longed for deep down and he can't have that for himself. And I think it all really makes sense that he'd take it painfully slow, but I love for him to have the safe space to do that. That Rook's just there kinda, I'll be here when you're ready. I find that ultimately the realest, sweetest part of the romance.

And when he looses Rook he ultimately de ides that if he ever got them back, he'd not let that stop him, because he'd rather not have them for his own than not have them at all.

But I also really want them to smooch after the dessert. You see my struggle?

[illiath-the-fae]

So... just to add some reality to this.... because a lot of people seem to think they'd be perfect and would not have any issues with being able to handle these things if they happened in their own lives in some way...

If OP is referring to the included response image, then the response needs analysis, because it does not say (explicitly) what OP is responding to. As the image response wasn't supplied by OP I'm not sure OP is responding to that or a different response. If not and there was a more direct response, then it should have been provided, not this one, as I do not agree that this response says what OP claims.

For those who are unsure why I say this, my analysis of the response posted is below the line (I'm reminded of Brandolini's Law here)...

There are two primary ways to read this response. There are other ways, most likely, but I wanted to highlight these two.

The person is hateful enough of people who won't accept being called a specific word that they'll cut them out of their life (which seems to be the way this thread is taking the response).

The person is has sufficient levels of social anxiety that potentially harming someone by accident is sufficient cause for them to avoid the individual in question.

The first method is how people seem to be reading this, based on attaching it to the post by OP (I do not know if this was OP is referring to this post or not so I don't want to say "OP said this" or anything).

Method two, which is how I read that message, is as follows.

Their first sentence that claim "dude" is gender neutral. That's a stance, many in California see the word that way, I understand, even if I disagree. That said, the RP (Response Poster) is taking that stance with their post, which suggests they use this the same with men, women, cats, dogs, otters, fish, birds, etc (okay, maybe not, maybe only humans, but hey, I can be hyperbolic, right? right? oh, okay, maybe not... let's just assume it's people only for now).

In their next sentence they express their response if someone in real life requested not to be called dude. Their response would be, probably (so this hasn't happened to them), stop talking to them altogether because of their anxiety around accidentally disrespecting the other person. While this means the person is likely to cut someone out of their life (this bit matches up to OPs post) it is not because someone else is transfemme (this doesn't match up, because RP doesn't mention transfemmes at all, even though OP specifically mentions them), but because of their anxiety around disrespecting other people.

Okay, so now I put on my psychologist hat and I see someone who is dealing with elevated levels of anxiety about social situations (maybe clinically, maybe not, this is a SINGLE SENTENCE not something I could diagnose from, even if I wanted to. It's just a higher level of anxiety that would be expected). Someone who knows they're going to make a mistake and don't want to harm someone (even slightly) with their mistake that they are likely to self-isolate from that individual to make sure it doesn't happen (this is called setting a boundary, some of you are big advocates of that from what I've read here on this site).

People who would rather self-isolate themselves from others, rather than make mistakes that they believe will harm the other person (even slightly), exist, are real, and think this way about all sorts of behaviours. Rather than putting this person on blast because you have read what they have to say and read something into it that isn't in what is written, perhaps we could take a moment to actually process what they wrote and see if they actually say what we initially read into it? It would help.

If they did say what we think they said, rather than shaming them entirely, is there is another way we could handle the response than putting them on blast? If RP had, in fact, said they'd shove transfemme people out of their life, if the transfemme requested not to be called 'dude' what could we have done? Could we have a method that includes the person and tries to get them to change their mind? We've got a lot of things attempting to divide us, as a society, even more will be coming in the next few years, divide and conquer is a well-known fascist tactic, don't do it for them!

On a side note, there is also another factor I think we should include here... As part of the whole "we should learn how to be inclusive, not exclusive when something bad happens socially", we need to remember that it is a highly common behaviour for individuals to be unable to word things clearly to describe their feelings around a matter such that they'd rather avoid those feelings and the subject of them, than attempt to address them. We even have terms for when people's ability to handle social situations is affected by that to a "clinically relevant level"... you may have heard of some of those.

I'm sorry was there actually a post where a cis woman said she would cut a transfem friend out of her life if a transfem asked her to stop calling the transfem dude? Please tell me this was a hypothetical and not real

[mewnewew]

sooo what if reader and shank,established relationship,and they keep their relationship pretty hidden for a long while until one day one of their crew m mates found them making out/kiss(?) by accidentally but that crewmate keeps that secret hidden but slowly teasers them during dinner(which made the others confused) but soon after they kind of reveal their relationship and the crew goes shocked or something

Hope ya liked this!!

Shanks x Reader: Affairs and affinities

Hongo was quite frustrated about this. He wanted to find the captain to ask him a question about their next stop. The thing was, he had relatives living in the island coming up, but there wasn't an official plan about actually stopping there. Finding Beckman, he asked, only for the gunner to shrug and direct him to find their red haired captain. "I don't see an issue. Best to just let the captain know, anyway. He wanted to go quickly to Lions plains island cause of someone he knows' wedding."

Nodding, the doctor set off to find their captain. The issue here was, he couldn't find the damn man. He had checked belowdecks, at the Crows Nest, at the front, in his cabin, in the gallery, in the drinks storage, hell, even his own clinic. How in the four seas could their captain disappear while they were at sea was beyond him, but the fact was ridiculous. Currently, he was just opening doors belowdeck, and as he opened the door to the cleaning closet he froze.

There, on an upturned bucket, sat the man he wanted to find, along with you on his lap, his hand on your ass. Currently there was spit connecting yours and his lips together, as you two froze and stared at him. Then he yanked the door shut with a "SORRY!" And a blushing face.

Not even a second later, you opened the door and caught the man's arm, yanking him in. "Hongo, listen-"

"Nope! My bad! I didn't see anything!" Yelped the now very prominently blushing man, hand over his eyes. Behind you, Shanks was laughing, hand slapping his knee.

"Would you quit it?" You snapped.

"Aw, c'mon darlin'. Someone was bound ta find out anyway." Crooned the man, now bearing a smug grin.

"Yes, but- Hongo, would you just look at me?" You looked at him now.

Peeking out between his fingers he gave you an unsure look. Sighing, you answered him. "Look, it's fine. No issues that you saw us. So don't freak out about it or whatever, okay?"

"Da-ha-ha-ha!" Laughed your (oh gods, thought Hongo) red haired lover.

"Shaaaanks" You groaned.

"Okay, okay" He waved you off. Then he looked back at Hongo. "Listen, just...keep this a secret okay? Me and darlin' ain't ready to just tell everyone just yet."

As Hongo listened to his captain, he watched you go over to Shanks, one hand in the hair at the back of his head and Shank's only hand sitting on your hip. Then it hit him. You both were comfortable with each other. Did that mean-?

"-ngo, Hongo! Buddy, you there?" Came Shanks' voice. Hongo blinked, shaking his head a bit, before looking back at the both of you.

"Sorry, it's just." He ran a hand through his hair. "How long have you two been dating?"

As if like Siamese twins, both of you blinked at the same time, then shared a glance, before looking back at him. "Uh, about 10 months?" Answered Shanks, and you nodded frowning. "Almost a year, yeah?" You looked back down at your captain.

He hummed, agreeing. "Seems about right."

Hongo's jaw dropped. Almost a year? How did none of them notice? Not even Yassop? Wait, that meant-

"Am, am I first one to know?" He sputtered out.

You gave him a sheepish grin, and Shanks, a more affirming one. "Yep."

Hongo looked down, feeling his head explode. "Holy..."

"Look just keep it a secret awright? Like they said, we ain't ready to-"

He waved him off, "Yeah, don't-don't worry. I'll keep my trap shut."

"Thanks, Hongo. Really."

Flashing them a reassuring smile, he left the closet, knowing he needed to get some air.

As they watched him leave, you turned to look at Shanks. "Baby."

"Hmm?"

"What if...."

🍶

Oh, he was going to die. He was going to fucking die, right here at this fucking table, in this damned ship, in the middle of the sea. Hongo's eyes moved side to side as you sat on one side, and the captain on another. The both of you. Were fucking flirting. AT THE TABLE. WITH HIM STUCK IN THE MIDDLE.

If he was still a first year student, and he saw his blood pressure, he was pretty sure that:

A. The blood pressure would be HIGH.

B. Younger him would probably faint out of shock.

The process of you two flirting with him the in the centre for some unknown, ridiculous reason, was: accidentally touching his legs, when one person wanted to touch the other's, or, passing things to and fro in front of his nose with comments. (Oh saints the comments.) AND HE WAS PRETTY DAMN SURE THAT THERE WAS SOMETHING GOING ON BEHIND HIS BACK. LITERALLY.

The product of all these shenanigans, was a visibly distressed Hongo, very confused crewmates, and two very smug (one being able to hide it well and the other....not so much. I'll leave it up to you which one was more smug here) people sitting on either side of the ship's doctor.

An exhibit of the "comments":

Shanks: Oh please pass the meat, would ya?

You: Oh of course! I'm so sorry.

Shanks: Don't be sorry! You're our beloved crewmate after all.

*Cue you laughing.*

To say that the others were baffled was an understatement. Their brows only rose higher, and their confused frowns grew deeper as you proceeded to include him in your banter as well.

You: Oh Hongo! Would you like some wine?

Hongo: Uh, I-

Shanks: Course he will! Our beloved doc gotta party when he ain't on the job, don't he?

Hongo: Now hold on a-

You, visibly having perked up: Exactly! Here why don't you pour it out for him.

You offered a glass on the other side of Hongo, causing Shanks to lean across, and giving Hongo a fantastic look at the many hickeys hidden under his collar.

Oh lords and ladies and angels of paradise what in the living hell did you drag me into. -Thought Hongo, mentally groaning.

"Uh....Captain?"

The three of you broke your little game and looked at Lucky Roo who looked back at you three, meat held in his hand, cheeks as usual full with food.

"Y'all are uh....acting weird."

Yes!!! Cheered Hongo internally, for once praising the speedster of Crew.

You looked behind Hongo, to Shanks, exchanging a glance.

"Well....the thing is-"

"Y'see boys-"

"Just say it at the same time" cut in Hongo, almost begging at this point.

"Alright, alright"

The pair of you looked at the rest of the crew, now all leaning forwards to see/understand what was going on.

"We're dating"

"WHAAAAAAT?!?!" Came the collective reaction.

"Finally!" Heaved Hongo, his hands in the air.

Next came the flurry of questions and reactions:

"Really? You can do better than the Captain" Waved Yassop dismissively.

"Hey! That's mean!" Interrupted Shanks, but half heartedly, smiling when he saw you laughing.

"How long have y'all been dating?" Cut in Beckmann.

"Almost a year-"

"Ehhh?!?!" Gasped Limejuice. "How did we-" then he glared at Yassop. "Yassop!"

"Whaaat?!" Yelped Yassop. "What did I do?!"

"Well you-"

Hongo now was grinning. Well, all's well that ends well. At least he didn't have to hide it anymore. But hold on. He took off his coat, to see what was at the back of it only to thump both the captain and you on the head. "WHY IS THERE FOOD STAINS ON MY JACKET?!"

"DAHAHAHAH-OW"

"HEY!"

Needless to say, the Red-Haired Pirates ship would be a lot more lively tonight.

[dutchiepoo2]

How it Should've Been

Arthur x Fem!Reader

hi, this is me working through my issues! please read the content warnings, dearest -Jelly

cw: nsft intro, unhealthy attitudes surrounding sex, intimacy issues, references to past sexual trauma (no detail) and responses/emotional flashbacks relating to said non-detailed trauma, angsty with a not-happy ending

uses she/her pronouns & she has a pussaaaaayyyyyyyyy

i couldn't figure out how to end it so it's shit oops!! 2.5k words. mdni.

..........

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Finally, they'd gotten a moment of peace. After weeks of high tensions within camp, and then Arthur being away, finally, they had time alone. Arthur had been wanting her for ages, and vice versa.

Now, they had a moment to get away. The chaos had calmed down a bit, and Pearson had been hounding Arthur to go out hunting. He figured he'd kill two birds with one stone and take his lover along with him.

Yes, it was a hunting trip, but they weren't doing much hunting. Arthur knew of an old, abandoned cabin that wasn't too decrepit. He knew it wasn't exactly romantic, and to some, might have been down right disgusting. Next time, he swore, he'd take her to a nice hotel and buy her a hot meal first. He'd slide his hands over her shoulders and kiss her reverently between declarations of her beauty, of his appreciation. He'd make sure she was relaxed and comfortable and take her how she should be taken.

But, that was for next time. Both of them were far too pent up for something as sweet as that. Arthur was frustrated with how busy he'd been lately, and he just desperately wanted a release. She was just plain frustrated she couldn't have him. There had been too many mornings spent quietly grinding against each other, too many sneaky wandering hands at the camp fire. They were craving each other, plain and simple.

And so, within ten minutes of Arthur laying his tent canvas over the old, dusty bed, he was inside her. This was unusual in the sense that Arthur typically took his sweet time. He was big, and he knew it, so he almost always spent ages stretching his lover open, getting her worked up enough until she's dripping, pulsing—past the point of ample preparation.

But that's not what happened today. Today, she was already wet and eager, kissing him hard and gripping at his suspenders. He was a starved man, so he laid into her with the same passion and then some.

First, he had her bent over that creaky old cot, his hands running along her waist and petting at the soft skin of her back. There was an undeniable power behind each thrust that had her singing praise and gripping hard onto the canvas blanket. He fucked into her like that for a while, just to get some of their energy out, until he decided he needed to see her face and maneuvered her onto her back.

Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he crawled over her, grunting and growling against the crook of her neck. The humidity of the summer air did little to ruin the moment, instead encouraging a shine to form over his body, little droplets of it rolling down Arthur's nose. She licked at his neck between staccatto'd pants, addicted to the taste of salt on his skin.

Then, her head was thrown back, spine arching to meet each thrust as best as she could with his weight on her. She was so full, more than normal it seemed, so needy for more. It was like he was scratching an itch she couldn't reach, no matter how many times she'd shoved herself full of her fingers on the nights he was away. Nothing could compare to this, she thought, as he ground down against her clit.

The prettiest noise Arthur ever heard escaped her throat, and he knew he needed more. Suddenly his weight was gone, and he was standing above her, collecting her legs and folding them against her chest.

"Want me like this?" He rasped, gaze intense and pupils blown.

As their eyes met, she felt his cock twitch inside her, relaying just how desperate he was behind his tough guy facade. Her cunt fluttered around him before she could answer verbally, but she gave an eager nod either way.

His next thrust punched the air from her lungs, her mouth falling open and hands flying to his wrists. A high, flighty gasp escaped her throat, trailing off into a shuddering hum of approval.

Again, and again, and again, he thrusted hard into her like that, slowly descending his weight down onto her. Again... and again... and—

A sharp pain radiated across her abdomen, her eyes flying open and her nails gripping tight against his skin. She yelped and reflexively tried to jump back, but Arthur held her in place as he extracted himself from her.

"Sorry—" he puffed, cradling her face immediately as he leaned over her. "You okay, girl? Too much?"

The pain wore off almost immediately, the only proof of its existence the small tremble in her thighs. She forced herself to relax, embarrassment bubbling up her chest.

"'M okay," she mumbled, leaning into his hand. "Keep going?"

Arthur breathed out in relief, leaning down to this time to press his lips to her crown. His grip on the back of her thighs loosened, letting her maneuver them as needed. He slid back into her, carefully, gently.

This time, he moved at a much slower, shallower pace, watching her face intently. His concern won over his lust for the moment. He just wanted his lover to feel comfortable, pleasured. His pace only picked back up when he felt the tension begin to melt from her thighs, and he could tell from her noises and expression that she was obviously feeling good again.

It didn't last long, though, before he pushed too hard or too deep or something, somewhere, and she jumped again. She'd been more prepared this time, so her pained reaction was much smaller, more subtle. Either way, Arthur noticed, of course he did, and paused.

"Okay?" He asked, disquiet evident on his face.

She nodded quickly, her cheeks flushing red.

"Yeah, sorry. Just... maybe this position...? I don't know..."

A deep sigh puffed across her bare chest, and she swallowed thickly, worried that she'd annoyed him. He released her legs and let them wrap back around his hips.

"Here," he mumbled, patting her calf. "You seemed to like this one earlier, yeah?"

Would he stop if she asked...?

She agreed, holding her breath. Silence. Why was she nervous? He'd obviously not meant to hurt her.

"Y'gonna tell me if you're hurting?" He scolded softly. His big fingers carded through her sweaty hair.

Right. Of course he would.

Again, she nodded, feeling awkward and embarrassed and annoyed that she was even hurting in the first place. They'd been having a good time. Her teeth grabbed at her lip, and she stared up at the cobwebs on the ceiling. Suddenly all she could smell was the musty, moldy smell of the old cabin, and any remaining arousal she was feeling drained from her body.

Arthur called her name gently, bringing her attention back to him.

"What'chu want, sweetheart," he asked gently, petting her ribcage with his thumb. "Anything you want."

What she wanted was to get out of this cabin. But she didn't want Arthur to be disappointed in her, or mad, or frustrated that he couldn't finish during the first time they'd had sex in weeks.

A few more minutes wouldn't kill her. She could do it, for Arthur.

Her hips rolled against his, hands pulling his shoulders down so she could hide her face in his neck. She knew how to fake it well enough.

"More," she breathed against his heated skin, "Take me."

Would he stop if she asked...?

Why couldn't she ask?

Arthur huffed, but began moving again, still heartbreaking-ly gentle. A soft noise escaped her lips, and she continued rocking her hips against his, encouraging him to speed up, to use her.

It did still feel good, physically, with his pubic bone grinding against her clit and her body stretched taut around his girth, but all she could focus on was how much she wanted to go home to her own tent, how hot it was in here, how bad it smelled, the sound of the single fly buzzing at the window.

She loved Arthur, so why was this suddenly so difficult? Why couldn't she do this for him?

He picked up the force of his thrusts, still going slow but getting stronger, snappier. That's usually how she liked it, so why was she so tense? Either way, she moaned into his ear and gripped him tight with her legs, despite her belly beginning to ache again.

Then he changed his angle minutely, and there was that sudden, radiating pain again. Her breath caught, but he seemed to think that was a good reaction, an honest mistake, because he did it again, and again, and again, and harder, and harder, and he started groaning again like he was close.

She could bear it until he finished. It wasn't that bad.

A few more seconds. Just a few more. Just—

Would he stop if she asked?

All her muscles went rigid, and she burst into tears, hands flying up to her face. Dread flooded her system, crushing all the trust she had in herself in an instant.

"Shit!" Arthur barked, as he flew back, startled by her outburst. "Shit... What's wrong?! Look at me, girl. What hurts?"

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, shame stealing her voice and forcing her still. Despite the summer heat, her skin rippled with a chill, a cruel reminder of the fact that she was stark naked and crying, legs still lifted awkwardly in the air.

Silence. Long, humiliating silence as she slowly curled around herself like a dying insect, quickly retreating into her own mind.

Arthur's big, calloused hands attempted to smooth out her messied hair. He called her name again and settled on his knees next to her.

"What happened, sweetheart?" He asked in a voice softer than she'd ever heard before.

Her chest rose in a short, stuttering breath, escaping her throat as a weak apology. When her eyes finally cracked open again, she immediately recognized Arthur as her love, and reached her arms out to him with wide, begging eyes, a pitiful, wet gasp. He didn't hesitate, and cradled her tight against his chest.

Worried and put off by her apologies, Arthur chose not to speak. He didn't think she seemed able to give him any answers right now, so he just held her.

And boy, did he feel like a right bastard. Nausea burned at the pit of his stomach as he considered what just happened. Did he hurt her? Scare her? She'd seemed into it. His eyes wandered down to where they'd been connected, searching her thighs and his now limp dick for any traces of blood or answers. Nothing.

He didn't spend much time getting her warmed up, he realized. Did he push her too fast? He'd have gone down on her if he'd known, would've had her come on his fingers until he knew she was ready. She had just seemed so eager.

He could feel her trying to calm herself down. Shaky sounding, hot puffs of air brushed against his stomach, her face buried in his chest, fingers clutching at his skin. Strong arms wrapped around her, a broad palm smoothed up her spine. He forced himself to be steady, despite the dread building in his gut.

In the tiniest voice he ever heard, she apologized again, directly over his heart. It clicked then, and Arthur's chest collapsed as the pieces fell together.

Oh.

Pieces of conversations past echoed in his skull, about no-name men and their sins. Memories of how she'd shy away in the beginning of their relationship when he came on too strong, even though he'd always been a gentle, gentle lover. Strange bouts of insomnia and poor sleep that always seemed to align with nights they'd indulged in each other more passionately than was typical.

Shit.

His nose pressed into his lover's hairline, his blood turning to ice. Amidst his onset of guilt, cradled in Arthurs arms, she was beginning to come back to the world. His familiar embrace, smell, brought a comfort she could never describe.

The anxiety fizzled out into emptiness as the minutes ticked by, and eventually, she was still. Awake, but still, half missing from her body. Arthur, meanwhile, was buzzing with energy.

He pulled back, searching her face, zeroing in on the tear tracks drying against her cheeks. He felt sick at the way she peered up at him, eyes wide and owlish.

To her fuzzy brain, it felt like a year that they stared at each other, resting together in that old, gross cabin. He broke the silence.

"What happened, sweet girl," he whispered, voice thick. "I hurt ya?"

It took a lot of time for her to process the question. She supposed it was true, but it didn't feel true. She made him hurt her. She let him believe she was having fun. God, why did she do that? She wanted him to enjoy himself.

Her expression began to crumble as she shook her head, no, emphatically. It wasn't his fault. She didn't want him thinking that.

Arthur sighed deeply, not convinced in the slightest, but willing to put it aside for the moment. His thumb brushed against her cheek, eyes soft.

"You forget it was me?"

That didn't feel true, either. She knew it was Arthur, and she realized with a sinking feeling that he knew. What would he think, if he thought she saw him as some sort of... that kind of man? She knew he frequently felt like a monster already. She'd put so much effort into building him up. What would it do to him if he thought she was afraid of him?

No.

She forced it down. She'd protect him from this ugliness that made her question him. What was she thinking? Of course he would stop if she asked. He always did. Usually, he'd stop before she'd even get to asking.

"No," she croaked. "Just... I don't know what happened, Arthur. I'm sorry."

He wouldn't let it go, though.

"You gotta tell me if it hurts, little girl," he chided gently. "I don't wanna hurt'cha. Don't matter to me if we gotta call it. You know th—"

"Can you get my clothes?" She interjected, eyes glassy again. It was too much. "Please?"

Arthur's jaw went rigid in frustration. Guilt, shame, annoyance. With a kiss to her forehead, he separated himself from her body and sat up to search for her layers.

The moment had passed. She'd shut him down in fear of hurting him, and he was losing patience by trying to figure out what he did wrong.

Slowly, gently, he helped her dress back up. Arthur helped her return to modesty, and only then began dressing himself. She sat motionless on the edge of the cot, watching him with a little frown.

They watched each other, distantly, carefully. This was unusual, unsettling.

He didn't blame her. She didn't blame him.

He wondered if she trusted him. She wondered if he'd forgive her.

He beat himself up for not noticing. She beat herself up for not holding out.

Arthur hated that, maybe, he unintentionally reminded her of something so awful. She hated that her body couldn't react to anything else, especially with someone she trusted with her life.

Neither uttered a word.

When Arthur was clothed, she reached out to him again, seeking the solace she'd found earlier when he'd brought her back to her body. They wrapped around each other, murmuring apologies and declarations of love, each touch and each whisper poisoned by guilt.

Next time would be different, for sure.

[iyz2scared]

Behold, my first fanfic ever!

Also be warned because I can't be bothered to proof-read this shit @fishymom-art @anonymouscreatorxd

REBLOGS OVER LIKES PLEASE, I WANT PEOPLE TO SEE THIS

Why do they care?

It was an active day in the Dark Cacao Kingdom, cookies chatting nonchalantly with eachother while doing final preparations for the approaching snowstorm as watchers patrol the streets, checking to make sure everything is bunkered down properly and helping when needed, up within the castle walls, Cloud Haetae cookie watches Mystic Flour with a deadpan face as she does one last check of the garden trying their best to ignore the whispers in the back of their mind, asking why this matters. "I think that's everything" Mystic Flour mutters before walking towards her child "is there anything specific you want to check over Cloud Haetae cookie?" "No..." the smaller cookie answers with a flat voice, they weren't always like this, not even a year ago they were joyful and energetic, like a puppy wanting to discover everything the world has to offer, but that part's hard to reach now, her old souljam shrouding the light she once saw in her child's eye in a fog of apathy "... well let's get inside then, no point in staying out here in the cold" she sighs, gently nudging Cloud Haetae cookie along, after some walking through the halls for a bit, the two entered the room where Fettuccine cookie and Onion cookie where staying in, they had been over for a visit when snowstorm warning was issued and Mystic wasn't about to risk losing any children to the snow "hii" Fettuccine greets as Onion cookie looks up from her fidget to nod hello before Mystic speaks up "hello you two, I wanted to check if everything was alright over here" "yeah we're ok!" "We're good" Cloud Haetae cookie slips into the room as the girls give their confirmations "if that's the case then I'll leave you be, if any of you need anything just ask one of the watchers to get me ok?" "ok, byebye"

Cloud Haetae cookie wasn't keeping track of the time as they listen to Fettuccine infodump about her recent interest and the wind howling in the distance, normally the wind didn't bother them but this time something about it was off putting to them and not know why only unsettled them more, why did it sound so sad? "Cloud Haetae cookie, are you ok?" The canid looks up at Onion cookie, her pupil-less eyes showing a sense of worry "Y-yeah, I..." as much as they wanted to lie, Cloud Haetae cookie knew that Onion cookie was scarily good at picking up on emotions, so much so that she was the only one who could still read Cloud Haetae cookie's emotions, which they were grateful for at times, other times however... "I- the wind's just loud, that's all" "... Fettuccine could you tell us more about the roses you've been growing?" "Yeah, they have really pretty petals and, oh did you know that desert roses actually store water in their stems?" "I thought all flowers did that?" "Nope, some only siphon, some plants-" "thank you" Cloud Haetae cookie whispers as Fettuccine rambles on, Onion cookie giving them a thumbs up in response.

Later, the wind is starting to get to Cloud Haetae cookie again, Fettuccine had fallen asleep so they couldn't rely on her rambling to tune it out anymore, all they can do is listen to the dreadful howl "you sure you don't need miss Flour?" Onion asks them, her voice seeming to come from everywhere in the room "she's probably asleep by now" "we both know she wouldn't care if you woke her up" "..." Cloud Haetae cookie glances over at the rabbit plush sitting next to Fettuccine, the mummy peacefully sleeping in a heap "I don't know why it's bothering me so much, it's not like I haven't experienced a snowstorm before..." "playing dead isn't going to change that though" Cloud Haetae cookie lets out a long sigh as they sit up "since when did you get so wise" "since I learned that I have all the time in Earthbread" "fair" after that quick exchange, Cloud Haetae cookie slipped off into the halls wandering without really thinking about where their going, surely they'll end up at their mom's room eventually "Prince Cloud Haetae!" Fuck "what are you doing out here, it's late and storming" "... I'm not a puppy" "that isn't- I didn't mean it like that, my apologies, it's just that last time you wandered alond night-" Has it really been that long since he's wandered the castle alone? "I know, I'm not going there, I wasn't wandering then either" "right.... do you need my help for anything?" "I just want to go find mom" "oh, I take you there if you want" "no" "are-... ok, if you don't mind me prying-" Cloud Haetae cookie starts tuning the watcher out, since when did the cookies here get so nosey, why do they care so much, why do they care about anything? They've already lost Sriracha Cheddar cookie to destruction, what makes them think they wouldn't fall to apathy, why do they continue to keep such a danger close, why do they care so much? "Young prince?" "... go away" "hmm, pardon?" Cloud Haetae cookie turns to face the cookie following them "Leave me alone" "... alright sorry, I understand" the watcher gives Cloud Haetae cookie a quick pat on the shoulder before turning around, they can't keep caring like this, they need to stop, they need to let go, they need to learn that they can't care for something uncaring, they need to be embraced by apathy, so without thinking, Cloud Haetae cookie grabs the hand of the caring cookie and holds it in their own as a dreadful, comforting white replaces their dough.

Cloud Haetae cookie wants so badly to scream, to wail, to show any outward remorse, but nothing comes out, not even a tremble, the only thing they can do is stare wide eyed at their flour covered paws and at the dusty outfit on the ground, they didn't want this, it's not their fault that they cared for someone so dangerous, but it felt inevitable, maybe they were destined to take their mother's place. "C-Cloud?" They turn to the voice behind them, to look at the horror on their friend's faces "Fettucci-" "WHAT DID YOU DO?!?" "Onion..." Cloud Haetae cookie flinches internally as Onion cookie shrieks at them, barely even registering Fettuccine speaking up" "THEY DIDN'T DO ANYTHING TO DESERVE THIS WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?! You're- You're a killer, you're awful!!" "Onion, please stop!" Fettuccine wraps her arms around Onion cookie as a puff of white fog envelops Cloud Haetae cookie, clearing to reveal them in their guardian form, there's to much going on, there's flour on their paws, their friends are yelling and screaming at eachother, they can hear Dark Cacao in the distance, the wind is still howling in their ears, the air's too cold, it needs to stop... no, no they can't hurt their friends, their brother, they can't "Cloud Haetae cookie... I- hey WAIT!" They don't even realize their running until they're at the nearby window, but they don't stop themselves from leaping out, they don't stop when they land in the quickly accumulating snow, they don't stop when they hear Dark Choco calling after them, and they don't stop when they reach the wall, they just keep running into the howling wind and snow, but why do they care?

[writing-mlm]

saw u write for the pitt,,, anything w/ frank langdon i beg hes too pretty

Did they bet on this

Summary: Dr. Langdon and Dr. (L/n)’s favorite residents are oddly familiar, but that couldn’t mean anything. Right? Pairing: Frank Langdon x Male Reader Word count: 3.5k Tags/Warning: post-Pittfest, minor mentions of Frank’s addition, canon level medical discussions, implied autistic!reader, reader wears glasses, father/daughter jokes about Langdon/Santos and reader/Mel, corny jokes, ‘I need him’ jokes A/n: I’m surprised i’ve gotten tame Pitt request, would’ve thought people wanted abbott/robby eiffel tower LOLLL

Dr. Frank Langdon has two secrets, although the first secret certainly has sub-sections. 

Secret one. 

He wasn’t on medical leave or at some administrative level following him being extremely rude to Santos, like the others suspect. He was in rehab. And now he gets pulled to the side not to get consults but for random urine testing. And he’s stopped going out for drinks, not because he’s more aware of his liver but because it happens to fall on his N.A. meetings.

Secret two. 

He’s been divorced for a while now. Long before his issue with drugs had come to light and he was sent to rehab. It’s been, officially, three months, but it’s been a year and three months. Pittsburgh has a mandatory one-year separation law, and he spent that year trying to win his wife back. But… it clearly didn’t work. He sees his kids every other weekend, the judge said he should consider himself lucky. Between his hectic hours and the recorded drug abuse, he was going to lose his rights altogether. 

But he’s clean now. He’s been clean since the day after PittFest. Each of his random tests comes back negative. He doesn’t even take Tylenol or ibuprofen anymore. 

Okay, he lied a bit back there. 

It’s not two secrets, it’s three. 

Secret three. 

He’s bisexual. And he has a crush on his fellow resident— although that resident has finished his final year while Frank was in rehab and is now in a flexible fellowship. Two days in the OR followed by two days in the Pitt. That is totally not the point. 

“Hey, Don,” You call, slapping his shoulder on your way to the locker room. He flinches, his jaw tightening at the sudden contact before he relaxes. It’s just you. Just the man he had been thinking about. “Missed me?”

“Like I miss high school,” He gives a sarcastic smile, and you huff a laugh, pushing into the locker room. His eyes shift to the floor, there are two patients so far— one is waiting to have their tox screens, and another is being treated for a 30/70 burn. Neither of which he wants to handle. “McKay, any new patients?” Langdon asks, holding onto the counter and stretching, his head down to ease the tension in his body. 

“Not yet,” She shakes her head, pulling her lips into her mouth. She grabs the clipboard and flips through it. “About to call in Emily Cotton, bitten by her chihuahua. Want that?” Something good, that’s all he wants. 

“No, give it to Mohan.” 

“Alright.” 

“I think Dr. Langdon has it,” Robby steps into his line of view, arms crossed. He doesn’t look at Langdon, his eyes only on McKay. “Don’t you, Langdon?” 

“Yes,” He grits, ever so slightly shaking his head. “Yup, send her to me. I’ll be in 5,” McKay looks between the two of them but nods, sending Mateo to call Ms. Cotton into the ED. You’re leaving the locker room as Langdon walks by, rubbing the back of his neck with both hands, and his ears are a little red. 

“You alright?” You whisper, changing directions and following him into the room. 

“I’m fine,” He lies, lips pressed into a thin line. “Can you turn the light all the way on?” Someone had dimmed them earlier, something about a patient seeing white spots in their vision. Not exactly great for inspecting small dog-inflicted wounds. 

“Yup,” Stepping back, you flick the lights on and look Langdon over. He's upset, he usually is when Robby assigns him a case. They are always cases that Robby hates, boring— mundane cases that come and go a million times a day in the ED. “Anything else?”

“Uh, no.” He shakes his head as he turns to you. “Unless you want to take over?” Crossing your arms, you rock back and forth before shaking your head. 

“My favorite resident could use the experience,” You tease. 

“Excuse me?” He laughs, standing up from the small rolling stool. He crosses the room over to you, and you raise your eyebrows. “We were residents together.”

“That’s how the cookie crumbles,” You drag out. “God, that was corny.” Pinching your nose, you close your eyes and try to take back the past five seconds. 

“It was,” He agrees through a small laugh. “Your age is showing, Chip.” He whispers, trying desperately not to let his eyes wander. To not falter and give in to the urge to be closer to you. Closer than normal for a pair of colleagues— friends. 

“We’re the same age,” The door opens, and the professionalism slips onto the two of you. 

“Emily Cotton?” Langdon asks, and she nods, looking back at Whitaker, who’d walked to the room. “Have a seat, please. I’m Doctor Langdon, and I’ll be your doctor today.” Nodding, you leave the room without a word, softly closing the door behind you. 

“Anything for me?” You ask Dana, ever thankful that she hadn’t actually quit. She did take a needed vacation, though. It cleared her head and allowed her the space to reflect on the job. 

“We just got a call; a teenage girl accidentally shot herself in the stomach. They’re about two minutes out.” She relays, and you have to stop yourself from showing if you are excited or annoyed. 

“Alright, I’ll need Dr. King, Collins, Perlah, and Silva.”

“Wait, no!” Langdon calls, his head peering out of the room. “King is mine.” His eyes dart between you and his favorite resident. 

“Too bad, Don,” You call. “Take your twin, Santos.” Santos looks up from her current patient, someone who’s about to leave. Meanwhile, Langdon drops his head, his free fist balling for a second. He reaches out to you, but you ignore him. 

“Ha-ha, gimmie King,” With two fingers, he motions for Mel to head to him. She looks between the two of you, and you give her an apologetic look. 

“Don, Donnie, Ding-dong— you can go one hour without Mel. Scrub in, Dr. King. You can go back to Dr. Langdon after this surgery.” Pointing to the operating room, she gives four strong nods and rushes past with her head down. 

“You’re cruel,” He says before you can walk by. “Santos,” He whispers, looking at her over your shoulder. She quickly looks away before they can make eye contact. 

“You guys are the same person, just she’s younger and a woman.” You whisper back, your head close to his ear. “And it’s for like five minutes. You got this,” 

If Langdon is allowed to be honest, he didn’t hear a single word you’d said. He just blindly nods, watching as you pull away from him to help get the room prepped. He takes one last look out, watching as the girl is wheeled into the ED before he resigns himself to his task.

“Dr. Santos, come on!” 

— 

For reasons you will not divulge to anyone other than people you do not work with, Santos is your unofficial mentee. Robby has Mohan and Whitaker, Langdon has Mel, McKay has Javadi, and so on. It’s just how things had naturally clicked into place after the first couple of days of them working at PTMC. 

There’s usually some teachable moment with the manatees to their mentors. Whitaker allows Robby to relax, Mel shows Langdon his way isn’t always the right way- that he can be wrong, and Santos helps you in other ways. 

“He did mention you,” She spills as soon as the two of you enter a room. You’re waiting on a patient, not using an empty room to gossip. That would be ridiculous and unprofessional. “Three times.”

“Was it good?” You squint. “Was it about me taking Mel?”

“Once,” She nods. “The first time. The second time he said you should've called him into the OR, and the third time he asked me about my opinion of you.”

“And what did you say?” You squint harder, leaning back on the wall. She shrugs, putting her hands into her pockets. 

“You’re cool, you buy me lunch sometimes— I didn’t mention that you use me to get information on him when you’re gone.” The door opens, and Princess hands you the new patient's chart. The conversation is effectively over as you introduce yourself and Santos to the patient with…

“And how did you put a tube of Christmas ornaments up your rectum?” You ask, and Santos makes a face behind his back. The man grumbles as he tries to find a comfortable position, refusing to take a seat. 

“I fell on it,” He answers quite stiffly. “My wife wanted me to take them down, and when I was climbing down the attic ladder, I slipped.” Raising your eyebrow, he looks away and down at the bedsheet. It’s going to be one of those, then. 

“Alright, Mr. Franco. I’m going to ask you to take your bottoms off and then put your feet into the holders while we step out. Okay? The blanket is for your privacy.” He grunts a nod and you close the curtain as Santos wastes no time walking out of the room. 

“How did he look when he mentioned me?” You whisper, your back pressed to the door, while she has to mentally prepare herself for her first object removal. 

“He looked how he normally does, I guess,” She shrugs. “Do we need a local anesthetic?”

“Maybe,” Scratching your forehead, you think about what you’re going to need. You’ve done enough removals during your time as a doctor that you’re basically a pro at this. She lists the items and goes to retrieve them while you work on finding Langdon for a quick moment. 

“Wanna switch?” You ask, holding him by the crook of his elbow. He looks at you, eyebrows raised. “I take your child with a broken ankle, and you take my rectum removal.” The offer is horrible, you know that and, more importantly, he knows that. 

“You’re funny,” He laughs. “Good luck, Chip.” He pats your shoulder and enters his room. Groaning, you go back to your room and knock on the door. 

—

You need him. You need him carnally. You need him biblically. You need him in ways that are sacrilegious. You need to jump Frank Langdon’s bones. 

Splashing your face with water, you try to compose yourself. You just finished up another emergency surgery— a woman fell from her fifth-story window, her femur was completely out of the skin, her elbow was twisted in gnarly ways, the works. It was the usual crew in the operating room, plus you and Langdon. 

It was technically his; he had called dibs on surgery while you were finishing up with the ornaments guy, and he asked you to join. He just had this look on this stupid face, and you couldn’t say no. Not that you ever could to him. 

But— and HIPAA forgive you— but the way he looked, stitching that woman back up was… something. You won’t say what, in fear of coming off as too crass. But it was life-changing. Pants were changed and not just because they got blood on them. 

“You okay?” The man of the hour asks, pushing into the bathroom. 

“Yeah,” You breathe out, having drowned yourself for a little there. “Totally, ‘m fine.” He’s not totally convinced, every doctor in the Pitt knows that when there’s water splashed on a face, something is definitely not fine. 

“Are you sure?” He asks, looking you up and down. He licks his lips, just a little so that his tongue pokes out from between them as his eyes trail up your body. 

“Just a little in my head,” His eyes land on your face by the time you look at him. 

“King has these grounding exercises,” He starts and you smile, looking down at the wet sink. 

“I know, we go over them together sometimes.” He stops, making an oh face. 

“So, you and Dr. King are…close?” He asks, rocking back and forth on his feet. “You talk often?” Shaking your head as you grab some tissue, you press your back against the marble countertop. 

“We talk in passing, usually when we need a break. We both decompress on the same staircase, funnily enough.” There’s a small laugh in your tone and Langdon nods. 

“Yeah, she-she mentioned you that a couple of times.” Before you could respond, there were two sharp bangs on the door. Robby. 

“Langdon, your patient is coding. (L/n) your patient's parents are here.” He huffs and leaves in a hurry while you make the short walk to room 13 longer than it needed to be. The parents are completely disagreeing with the treatment of their daughter. The mother is for the treatment, while the father thinks the vaccines and medications are going to lead to autism or gayness in the future. 

“Fucking Qanon’s man,” You grumble before plastering a pleasant look on your face as you enter the room. 

—

“Oh, I get it,” Abbott whispers as he, Dana, and Robby lean against the workstations. They have a clear view of two of the on-call rooms. One with Langdon and King, and the other with you and Santos. 

“Get what?” Robby looks up, his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He follows Abbott's line of view and rolls his eyes. “Oh, those four. Yeah,”

“Surprised it took you this long,” Dana snickers, flipping through some paperwork. “Like father, like daughter,” She looks up, catching how you and Mel both make the same head motion as the patient says something undoubtedly stupid. And then, at the same time, Langdon and Santos look away to give an exasperated look. 

“It’s freaky,” Abbott leans forward, his chin on his fist. “Do they know?”

“Not a damn clue,” Robby responds. They watch for a little while, and there’s one breakthrough with each of your patients. You and Langdon nod and leave the room. You and Mel walk out first, fixing your glasses out of stress rather than necessity, and then Langdon and Santos walk out, both of them slapping the top of the doorframe. 

“Freaky as fuck,” Abbott has to hold back a laugh. “Oh my god, like father, like daughter.” He agrees. 

“I’m telling ya,” Robby shakes his head, waving at the four of you as you walk by. “They didn’t even do it on purpose.” He adds in a hushed tone. 

“It’s like they don’t know it’s legal yet,” Mohan comments as she walks up behind the group. They turn to her, and she holds her hands up before walking away. 

Langdon parks himself at a separate workstation, watching as you do the same with Santos across the floor. 

“They’re doing this on purpose,” Abbott shakes his head. “There’s no way.”

“Switch to the morning shift,” Robby offers. “You’ll see,” 

“It’s entertaining,” Dana agrees before she smirks. “Want in on the betting pool?”

“There’s a betting pool?” His eyes seem to sparkle with glee and mischief at the idea. 

“I already lost,” Robby leans back in his seat, running his hands down his face. “I gave them six months. It’s been two and a half years.” 

“I predicted a drunk confession,” Dana frowns. That can’t happen anymore, considering Langdon can’t touch any drug or alcohol until he’s off his probation. 

“I think King is going to tell (Y/n) or Santos is going to slip up and tell Langdon.”

“That’s already a bet, believe it or not,” Abbott claps his hands together as if that was proving his point. 

“Alright, guys, I’m off! See you!” You call, and their head snaps to the locker room entrance. As you’re walking out, you’re relief is right behind you, ready to start their shift. 

“Right, night shift time,” Langdon mutters, pushing off from the workstation. “Wait for me?” He’s not begging— he doesn’t beg, but he is gently asking as another relief enters the ED. 

“Sure,” You nod, messing with the straps of your bag. He thanks you and rushes to gather his stuff as Abbott quietly sighs. There goes his entertainment for the night. He wonders if he could get access to the parking lot cameras. 

“Okay,” You inhale the cold air as the two of you head towards the employee parking lot. “Don’t laugh—“

“I won’t,” He promises without hesitation.

“One of my patients made a joke that I didn’t understand. It was something like; Doctors always have band-aids. They’re wonderful.” He’s heard that one a handful of times and shakes his head, glancing up at the sky. 

“Wound-erfurl,” He corrects with a small smile while you squint. 

“Oh,” You groan as it clicks. “Wound. Fuck, I should’ve gotten that.” For a moment, just a singular moment, Langdon watches as you hide your smile behind your hand. You look almost annoyed with yourself, but you’re mostly embarrassed that you hadn’t gotten the joke. And had this been anyone else (save Mel, Robby, Abbott, Dana, or Gloria) he would’ve made fun of them in some way. 

“It’s a hard one,” He agrees through a simple shrug. 

—

“What do you see in him?” Santos asks as she hangs onto her stethoscope, watching as Langdon gets blood sprayed on his face. Rogue vein, apparently. 

“He’s pretty,” You grin. She scoffs and looks away, turning towards the TV, hoping there would be a case soon enough. There are a million people waiting, so why doesn’t she have a patient already?

“You’re not supposed to be down here,” Robby notes as he walks past you. He’s checking someone’s chart and he hasn’t looked up once, how he knew you were there is beyond yourself. 

“I’m on my lunch break,” You reply, holding up the empty apple juice carton as proof. Although he’s still not looking at you and you’re not looking at him. You’re watching as Langdon leaves the on-call room, his face has a clear expression of disgust on it. 

“I’ll get some new scrubs,” The offer makes his shoulders relax, and he looks at you, his expression softening. 

“Thank you,” While he heads to the bathroom, you head to the scrub exchange before remembering. Exchange. Walking into the bathroom, Langdon looks up from the sink, bloody water dripping from his face. 

“I need your old scrubs first,” You tell him and he grunts, he’d also forgotten that small detail. 

“Fuck, right, yeah.” He nods and scrubs his hands before grabbing the collar of his scrubs. He pulls it off in one motion, the grey short-sleeved shirt rising a little with the motion. Against your better judgment and perhaps morals, your eyes can’t help but wander to the exposed skin. Feeling like a Victorian child because you’ve never seen Langdon showing that much skin. 

‘That’ being below the naval, but above the V line. Barely three inches of skin and it’s like your brain shuts off. He neatly folds the blood-stained shirt and then looks at you, his thumbs under his waistbands. 

“You don’t mind?” He asks, to which you shake your head. 

“We’re doctors,” You mutter as he lowers his pants. “I’ve seen worse than a man in his boxers.” You continue. 

“Worse!” He shouts a laugh. “I-I like to think I look good in them, thank you very much.” He kicks the scrubs off and you look at him through the mirror. He’s looking at you already and you remember he’d been talking. 

“You do,” You reach to take the folded scrubs. “Your wife sure is lucky.” Cringing, you head out of the bathroom and to the scrub exchange. You know his employee ID and he knows yours, the two of you have worked nearly every patient together and run to get the others scrubs over a hundred times before. 

“You look strange,” Santos squints as you type in his PIN. Huffing, you shake your head before looking at her. 

“I don’t want to even think about it, Santos. Do you have any patients waiting?” 

“Uh, yes. Room nine. Twenty-one year twenty-one-year-old man with signs of testicular t. He also has mild asthma, and the caregiver is adamant that the man is faking.” Blinking, you nod and start your way back to the bathroom. 

“Alright, good luck with that one.. Start working on him, get McKay if you need an extra pair of eyes while you wait.” She nods and heads to the on-call room. 

“I’m back!” You call, pushing the bathroom door open with your shoulder. 

“I’m divorced.” Langdon says as soon as you do. You blink, handing him the fresh pair of scrubs. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” God, you have horrible timing today. 

“Don’t be,” He shakes his head before scratching his eyebrow. “I didn’t mean to blurt that out and thanks, for the scrubs.” 

“Anytime. Do you need anything else?” Checking your watch you have five minutes left on your break. 

“No, nope. I’m good.” You start to turn around when he calls your name. Pausing, you look at him and he presses his closed fist to his mouth. “Do you have plans after this?” He strains out and you smile, shaking your head. 

“I’m free unless I get called into an emergency surgery. I'm not reading this wrong, right?” You trail off, looking between his eyes. 

“Oh, I’m asking you on a date,” He nods and you promptly nod back. 

“Dr. Langdon, your patient is requesting an enema!” Whitaker says as he peers into the bathroom. “Oh, am I interrupting something?”

“Scrub contamination,” You shake your head, slowly looking at Whitaker. “Good luck with your enema, Frank.”

[uneducated-author]

I'm a strong believer in 'Midnight should have never been revisited' because we're always going to be way more scared of something that we never got the chance to understand, but as a continuation, this episode was great at making me terrified. Like, it was really well written, edited, scored. Genuine shivers when the doctor figures out where he is and what he's up against, and I haven't gotten that in a WHILE. The details around how accessibility and disability might look like 500,000 years in the future is really interestingly done as well, from the projected words to the little details of 'signing still scares people' and the Doctor being called out with 'I can still lip read'. I would have liked something from Aliss's side, like a pair of gloves that brought text to her own signing, similar to what's in development now.

As an episode, some parts were great and others slipped. I don't feel less scared of the Midnight entity, which is good, but having Aliss somewhat able to communicate without the entity controlling her I feel kind of broke it a little for me. The Doctor at his core wants to communicate with the universe, and the horror of the midnight entity was that he couldn't communicate with it without making it stronger, and it couldn't communicate without consuming someone. The best part of Midnight for me was the mystery. We still don't know whether Sky Silvestry had some history with the Midnight entity, or whether it consumed her completely, just hunting from her fear. It would have been great if Aliss was just the ultimate form of the entities forgery of humanity, or if that was at least an option. Giving it a physical form immediately felt a bit dull, and I never like being able to see a monster, and I also didn't like how it was actively murdering or hunting people down.

In Midnight, it was careful. Unexposed to humanity, but aware that more were coming, and it did everything with the intention of leaving the star to find more humans. Having it seemingly wreak havoc and kill as many humans available to it feels very juvenile in comparison. It could have been interesting if it showed knowledge of military protocol. For instance if it damaged Aliss's body, knowing that she would be evacuated for treatment rather than interrogated. Like, it's learned more and more and can use human tactics to counter them.

Speaking of, don't like them being a mission crew. It gives a casual level of competence which diminishes the danger. If they went the route of 'this thing dismantled a crew of prepared soldiers' that could have been great but instead, the mutiny has no real emotional impact and everyone comes off as very cold and disconnected. None of the losses feel personal. We don't really get many humanising moments across them and honestly, it's way too many characters. I literally only remember Mo's name and I JUST finished the episode. They literally refer to each other as numbers, and that's never even seen as tragic.

Back to the Doctor, we're getting some repeat issues with characterisation where the Doctor is becoming very comfortable with letting people die for him. Like Ko Sharmus on Gallifrey, where she literally hands him her self destruct button, it feels like he'll sacrifice his own life, only until someone else volunteers. And the definite promises feel a little toooo Time Lord Victorious vibes, he doesn't trust the universe that much.

Setting up the 'something happened to Earth in May 2025' is great, and I love it. Having Bel actively discover stuff really works to build her character. Also love that her willingness to sacrifice herself is being a recurring detail, it's nice that she has these values of utilitarianism as a consistent trait and isn't just as nice as the script wants her to be.

Belinda is lovely in this episode! Right level of dissent to not be annoying while still getting across how scared she is, but a clear and nice interest in the reality of travelling through space and time. I've become quite fond of her.

Shouldn't have given the Midnight Entity a body, I'm pretty certain on that. I don't like that they gave it a voice of it's own either. When it was a possessing shadow, it was alike to the Vashta Nerada, and the fear of 'you can't kill a shadow'. If it's physical, it can be destroyed. And it's boring, having it be countered by it's own reflection.

All things aside, it's not a bad episode at all! Ncuti Gatwa's acting is great, and there are some tricky moments that I can just imagine look very awkward on the script. Really happy with how the new season is shaping up.

[kitkat5628]

So, uh. Why are people so... Adamant? To destroy/separate/disassemble the Bat Family?

Stuff like: Bruce should work alone, let Barbara be her own and stay away from the Bat Family, Dick should leave the bat family and permanently stay with the Titans, Jason should leave the fam, Tim should retire, Damian should retire and be a doctor — fair take given the new comics but, somehow, I bet DC won't allow something like that? — Cass should leave Gotham, Steph should leave...

Like, um😭

They're family, yeah they fight a lot and have so many issues that a therapist would be traumatized for life to hear of, but they're family. Friends. Each other's rock. They support each other and are always there to help the others when they're in need or danger.

I agree they shouldn't always be together 24/7 and do some stuff by themselves, but leaving each other forever sounds a bit drastic?😭

Let those poor people have a family. Well Babs and Steph already do — still at this point we could almost consider Barbara an in-law. Could have been the same for Steph if she's ever gonna get back with Tim. Otherwise, she's still the type like: best friend of someone in the family, the type that visit their house so much that she's basically an official member at that point —, Dick has the Titans whom yeah they're his second family but it's the kind of family made of friends if you get what I mean, Bruce's parents died and he only had Alfred, Jason's died, Tim's died, Damian is literally the blood son?? Cass does have Cain and Shiva but Cain sucks and while Shiva is okay as of now, Cass made her own choice. Duke's family is... Complicated yk.

Aka, to count as actual family they only have each other, secondary families aside. They care about each other, have complicated relationships but will die for each other. Why would one of them ever leave? Let those babies be happy y'all...😔

I don't think it will last or they're gonna be happy and feel free after leaving. And again it won't last, like the time DC took out of the picture one Robin because people couldn't stand the idea of someone replacing the other but another one later came up again anyways, ahem...🥰

I simply don't understand what would change if they were to abandon each other anyway? We know Bruce would kinda get worse. How would it be better for Dick, Jason, Babs, Cass, Steph, Tim, Duke and Damian to leave tho?? Only ones I can understand are Tim and Damian, if they were to retire they would indeed have — probably — a better, calm and less painful life, but would they be 100% happy about it and leave without remorse?

Petition to have a comic where they all get kidnapped, locked in a room, resolve all their issues and have an actual eye-to-eye talk, get better, get closer and will always be there to support and help each other even more🙋‍♀️ /j...?🤔