#what will it take to get u to care

[inkskinned]

you know, you know. no gods, no masters, no kings on pedestals. everyone is fallible. death of the author. you know! you are balanced about your intake of media - you allow the wiggle room, the grace, the gratitude, the skepticism. nobody above criticism.

but still. a weird gut-punch feeling, something akin to betrayal. you read the article. surprise! an author you love is actually: a serial fucking predator.

well, shit. what now. no, you knew he was a person (all people are), but now you're wondering - what have i overlooked by accident? what messages have i internalized that are strange and cruel? and also, like, what the fuck?

his actions lay a thick glaze on top of everything. like each place is now ruined, opaque in a new way. but okay, fine, you've done this before. you knew better, right? you've been betrayed by many a cherished childhood author.

still, this stickiness. fuck. can you pick up that book again. will you read it to your children. you've recommended it to others - will you ever do that again? and of course, of course, no parasocial relationships. you were theoretically above this kind of sentiment. but the artist informs the art, right.

so it's not something as clear-cut as feeling he owed you, specifically (a stranger) better behavior - just that you kind of, in a distant and odd way... sort of trusted him to do better. it's not like a real trust or something speakable, just the faint hope that the product (good books) was a thin representation of the soul. now it feels like the product (good? books?) was a mask. in some small or insignificant way, your previous support of this person lent them power. your money and your time and your laughter.

and the thing is - you have this terrible, echoing sensation. how many times will this happen? over and over. you find out that the singer you love is actually a predator. you learn over drinks that your favorite high school english teacher is in jail for what he did to her. you listen to the news idly and suddenly discover that a woman you used to idolize has been abusing her kids for an actual eon.

what can you touch without the static melting off. you can't even really complain about it too much (you were supposed to know better, and besides, you don't want the same re-split "it's not your fault, love what you love" basic advice), but now it's here. somehow, it feels like - you let him into your life.

it's not that things need to be pure or an artist has to be like, endlessly perfect, mindful. demure. it's more just this terrible truth that has been replayed through your veins so often it feels criminally vain. power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. did you want any one person to be worth that power?

it's just that he wrote books where he seemed to understand that. he seemed to know about hierarchies and unfair systems and bigotry and privilege. you thought they were books about what it means to struggle. you thought they were about having power and still using it for good rather than for control. he spooned you a narrative of being a good guy, a kind soul. you fucking bought what that fucking monster sold.

maybe that's why they were fantasies, after all.

[soulmvtes]

just a reminder that it's okay to change and fail and make mistakes and be imperfect and feel grief and not know what you're doing with your life <3 life will pass + you will succeed even if it looks different to what you imagined

[bacchuschucklefuck]

while teen while goblin while aroace while injured while doing your best

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

sometimes when Darry gets frustrated when he's arguin' with other adults about Pony or Soda (i.e. he feels like a teachers bein' unreasonable or an adult lookin down on them) he'll snap leave my fuckin' kids alone, yeah?

[suntails]

🐙⚔️

[ping-ski]

the girls are fighting

[yuwuta]

prince satoru who gets drunk at every ball, gala, and formal gathering because he knows it means you, his knight in waiting, will have to drag him away and spend time trying to sober him up. he really doesn’t care much for liquor (and when it takes merely a half chalice of wine to get him tipsy, he hardly considers what he’s doing a problem), but he does care for you, and he cares a lot about having your attention and your hands on him as you try to get him to settle down and feed him bread and water. it’s a much better way to spend the evening if you ask him

[katierosefun]

insane to me that if harvey had been even an iota less insane, he probably could have gotten mike to be a lawyer the more normal way. i mean, man is a big shot attorney who graduated fifth in his class at harvard law school and probably has a gazillion connections and he absolutely could have just gotten mike into harvard law school (and talked harvard people into looking the other way about how he got kicked out of college . . . worse people have gone to law school tbh), and then harvey could have just negotiated with jessica about not having a personal associate for another three years or just have had mike become a summer associate or something and then hire mike onto pearson hardman, but noOOoOoOoOOoOOO, harvey was so impatient to get his hands on mike that he had to go through this whole fraud thing. gay behavior

[christakisbang]

kim daengdaeng my little puppy ㅋㅋ thank you for always teasing me and thank you for taking care of me ㅋㅋ gukbap ㅋ

[inkskinned]

"don't make it political!" .... what proportion of death and suffering must occur before politics are involved. if this isn't political, what is even the point of any politics, ever. of democracy. the words are "by the people for the people." if i am going to be left alone by my elected representatives to "figure it out" - to undergo damage, hardship, fear. what the fuck did i elect them for. what was their job. the entire point is that they handle this shit. this is why we were supposed to be electing leaders.

poverty is political. misogyny is political. gun control is political. climate change is political. how much aid a community gets is political. what the fuck are you talking about. it's been political this whole fucking time.

[fatuismooches]

Sobbing rn I just got hit with the cutest hurt/comfort idea for fragile!reader and Dottore

(The hurt in this instance is just fragile!reader's self deprecating inner monologue 😭)

What if reader was the sort who fussed over their appearance a lot? In the Akademiya they wouldn't be caught dead with dark circles under their eyes or having their hair messy.

Even if they did pull all nighters for a project, they always found time to put just a little bit of make-up on to lighten up their eyebags, and always had a simple yet neat hairstyle in mind in times they're in a rush.

They might be perishing from all the studies and assignments but they're going to look good doing it!

This made Reader and Zandik an even odder pair in the Akademiya. Reader who is always neat and in style, versus Zandik who just spent the whole night taking apart a ruin guard somewhere in Avidya Forest until the sun rose and he showed up as is.

That was one of the features Zandik found 'annoying' about Reader before they got together. Like - ugh they're so bubbly and energetic! They're running around everywhere and they're so chatty! Them with their— nice hair! And— pretty eyes, and those robes that actually fit them as if they were tailored! How pretentious of them— (he was down bad. Bro was coping with anger to bat away the feels)

But of course, that was all in the past. In the present, Reader can't take care of their appearance anymore. They couldn't even pick up a hairbrush, their joints ached horribly, they don't have the strength to hold something so light, they don't have the energy to do the basic care of untangling the strands of hair either.

They can't stand looking at their own reflection. That sense of 'wrongness' they couldn't fix, what they couldn't hide. How desperately they wanted to put just a little bit of blush at least, to give their skin some life with how sickeningly pale it was, no longer warm and saturated as it used to be.

They can't look at their eyes either. The greying, sagging bags beneath their lids was a taunt. No amount of sleep would get rid of them.

They can't wear outfits that were too elaborate. Their temperature fluctuated too much, a deathly cold beneath their skin, then a sudden spike in heat as if they were being scorched by the desert sun. They have to wear basic garments, comfortable without hindering layers to slow down their daily check-ups.

Reader is thankful for the segments caring for them, they really are. A segment brushing their hair while talking to them is a highlight of their day.

But... it wasn't the same.

Of course it wouldn't be, the segments were carers, nor stylists.

Still, the fact that they had no control over their appearance and presentation had their mental state withering.

Dottore noticed this. How withdrawn his dear had become. They had their days of silence, yes... but this was more sombre than usual.

He concludes that their illness was flaring up again, and that they were masking their pain instead of consulting with him. He comes to their room of course, his current duties be damned (not that he could've been productive even if he had wanted to, the Segments were restless and shrinking away from their tasks, their darling's current disposition bothered them.)

Opening the door slightly to enter, he sees them blankly staring at their reflection, prodding a finger on their prominent eyebags, rubbing their cheek to see if it would redden.

Ah... how could he had forgotten that. They were once very particular of how they looked. He should have known this possibility, witnessing their own sickly reflection would be distressing...

[The Crow visits a certain Dove. Despite how stiff and vague the Doctor had been with his words, the Damsalette only tittered in understanding, and imparted the knowledge he was seeking.]

The next day, Reader is sat on their vanity, waiting for a Segment to tend to them (always with a little bit of struggle to walk in the morning, but it's the least they could do to be less of an inconvenience already.)

The minutes tick by... he's late. Did something happen?

More time goes by, and they become more worried. They were about to get up and search before the door creaks open.

Zandik...? And he's carrying a... why does he have a bag?

They have plenty of questions. Why the late arrival? What was in the bag? Why was Zandik himself here?

Before they could ask all of this, however, he sets the small bag down on the vanity. He riffles through it... are those make-up brushes?

Wait, make-up?

The next half-hour was spent in stunned silence for Reader's part, Zandik was silent as well out of careful concentration. Gently applying everything, his touch on the brush strokes and blending soft... applying gloss on their lips.

Once Zandik moves on to their hair, they finally catch a glimpse of their reflection. Their cheeks were rosey, the dark circles under their eyes concealed, their lips no longer appearing dry, and instead plump and shimmering.

Oh.

... they almost looked like the way they were before their illness.

Almost.

But it was enough.

(Reader tries so hard not to cry. Fighting back tears, not wanting to ruin the make-up Zandik so diligently applied. Once Zandik was finished with their hair... they may have hiccuped a little bit.)

They may no longer have that upbeat energy they once boasted... but it was comforting to see their old reflection once again. It had been far too long.

You know, I really love this ask because my whole life I've pretty much never used make-up even though I want to so having Dottie do it for me heals me a bit. Also, I'm not very knowledgeable on it so apologies if anything is wrong. Okay, I'm done. 🤏

In all honesty, Dottore was never one to care much for outward looks but he has to admit that you still always manage to look good despite all of the work from school plus all of the work you help with for his experiments, plus... literally everything life throws at you. Yet you still bounce back like it was nothing. The scholar still had not discovered your secret to this yet despite observing you for so long, which furthered his interest in you even though he didn't admit it.

Zandik did maintain his appearance, to an extent of course as he didn't go out of his way to look great, but nothing compared to the effort you put in. So while he did look presentable most of the time, there have been quite a few times you made him late to class because there was no way you were going to let him out looking like that. You don't regret it, even when you get weird looks from the other students. Being 'odd' with your equally as odd lover was nothing to worry about, in your humble opinion.

Although Zandik couldn't hope to understand your strange nature, always mumbling under his breath about you while you laughed at his comments, he also couldn't help but enjoy being around you. You kept him on his toes (your words, not his.)

Unfortunately, this nature and style of yours gradually dissipated into nothing when your illness struck. At first, you refused to accept it, pushing yourself to do what you usually did but soon enough you realized that it simply wasn't going to work out. You had all these tools and resources and options in front of you but you couldn't use them anymore. The self-consciousness only grew more and more each day as you struggled to see yourself as beautiful - struggled to see yourself as a person Dottore would find beautiful.

Of course, your gratitude to the segments couldn't be properly expressed or put into words. You quite literally wouldn't be here without them. However, it is still incredibly demoralizing to be unable to do what you once loved. You really did love them, but... it wasn't enough.

Dottore, despite spending much time in his lab or elsewhere, still kept tabs on you of course. Not just as your doctor, but as your lover, it was important. He had seen you at your lowest numerous times before, comforting you through the worst moments, and he was angered - not at you of course, but rather at himself for being unable to do anything that would be enough for you. Yet he continued, even when you hid yourself from him.

This time, however, maybe the scientist could do a bit more. He doesn't particularly... approve of the Third, or your "friend", but she's far more knowledgeable in this area than he'll ever be. Thankfully, she didn't tease him too much, knowing of your current state.

Dottore had never been one to take much interest in your make-up or style, preferring to simply watch as you worked your magic. So seeing him walk in with make-up makes you think you're still dreaming. (You remember laughing at his segment's various fashion tastes when you woke up though.)

The questions die on your lips the moment he lays everything out and the soft brush tickles your face, not to mention how he's obviously inexperienced yet he's still doing a good job. A part of you aren't surprised because of course he'd be skilled at most things, but still, you thought Celestia would sooner fall on Teyvat than Dottore do your make-up for you. Slowly, you watch as he transforms your face into something that was once dearly familiar.

It's not the same. It may never be. But it's more than enough for you, to revisit the old days that you loved so much. You fear you may cry full-on if you speak, so a simple kiss on your husband's face will have to do.

But regardless of what you look like, no matter how much your body and looks will change, Zandik will always view you as the most beautiful creation on this planet.

[mrmeepsmadmind]

they are ignoring my big beautiful pathetic himbo wife and his cute little platypus tail that he has for some tank part reason im too dumb to understand why

[mcytegg]

i miss mapicc bro, maybe the 10,000 wardens will provoke him to Do Something on ls 🥹

[ndostairlyrium]

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This was too cute, I couldn't miss the chance ;; also I like this low effort painterly style, immediacy is fun!

[monotone-artist]

[id in alt]

some idw redraws

[pumpk-n]

lazy fit check