#because we aren't on the mental playing field at all!

[secretagentsociety]

loves makes people crazy

yandere dragon X madly in love reader

Here's another idea,a yandere dragon like all powerful and scary the villager is scared of him,the king is scared of him,the Wizards and pretty much everyone and their grandmother is scared of him but then there's you,you different breed of a human decides to see him for the first time and say "yes that's my hubby" and the rest is history

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• people often called you crazy, dilusional and others not so nice insults for being still not being married despite hitting the big 2 0 that and also rejecting the local lords and basically anyone who tries to court you

• now just because people say it doesn't mean you HAVE to follow it yk?oh but you did you played their little fantasy of you being crazy so perfectly people were honestly scared for your mental well being,why?you may ask

• well it's because when khum first arrived at the village (I say first but it's really his 100th time terrorising the village) you decide to whisper something that some people might have heard "he's perfect" you said eyes filled with hearts watching him scaring the sht out of the locals

• honestly you're staring so much he could feel you boring holes into his head,curious he looked around for whoever it is that dared to stare at him for so long and BAM! He saw you,at first he thought you're staring at him in contempt or anger maybe both but then you sigh lovingly and waved at him a fools smile placed upon your face

• he had to look around and points at himself just to made sure he even mouthed "m-me? you're talking to me?!" But you blowing him a kiss and winking made it pretty clear it was him,well let's say after that he couldn't help but think about you "what an odd human" he thought

• "oh my god haven't you heard?! The dragons visit has been so frequent lately our village can't keep affording the rebuilding cost!" One of the villagers said,you aren't paying attention but just hearing him coming back more and more made your heart flutter "I know it's a blessing" you sighed melting into the seat as you remembered the first time he talks to you

•well it happened,khum stood Infront of you folding his hand,what is his plans anyway?kidnapping a human all of a sudden,a weird one at that,"human,do you have a name?" He said

• "you can call me yours,and I'll call you mine" you said "how about the name....treasure?no too basic maybe clove?nah um.....oh darling?" he said tilting his head,khum never thought one day he'd witness a human visibly explode and faint but here we was

• it was a rocky start to the relationship,well...rocky as in everything was so perfect it's scary, here's the recap,on day five of your kidnappings you've opened up to how the villagers had been treating you(not that it's hard to make you open up,all he had to do was give you food and call you pet names while stroking your head and bam! you're dumping your entire trauma onto him) and oh boy was he not happy

• now despite everything he's still a classy dragon,he ofcourse had hoarse of treasure but he also had a pretty nice castle he may or may not seize from a royal you don't have to know that tho so moving on,and with a huge castle come servants and with those come soldiers who needs to maintain security,not that he needs any but you know he likes to have thing's completed and that including the castles needs

• now when his subordinates first saw you absolutely gushing on how cute he was they were absolutely shocked,because one he literally look like a demon ripping out people's heart and two this isn't some flower field it's a grusome battle scene yet you couldn't help but blush when his shirt got torn off,you even closed your eyes to savor the moment after a while

• khum really can't understand your fixation on him,is it like his love for you?but even then he acknowledges your weird behaviour but you literally looked at him as if he was a god,not that he minds,he gotta admit that day he kinda wore a shirt that's a couple of size down so when he does some movements that needs intents flexibility his shirt would rip off in some cool cinematic style,it worked,it worked too well

• so apparently his stamina had their limits he'd come to know it last Night after the battle,oh but the details won't be necessary,oh but don't be fooled if he were to actually try you'd be the one to pass out

• now is he dilusional?nope he knows full well that it's not healthy but does he care?nope he's a powerful dragon,are you dilusional?maybe?...idk...probably....yes?.... Well he is cute so I'll give you that

• he is possesive, but it's really hard to show possesive when the person he loved won't look at other people,you will talk to people normally but once he entered your line of sight the other people can forget ever having a conversation with you

• now for the big question does this technically make you a yandere? maybe..yes.

•i feel the need to say he is 100% taller than you, I'm sorry but it's just the rules 乁⁠(⁠ ⁠•⁠_⁠•⁠ ⁠)⁠ㄏ

• yes he has two pp lets move on now

• he had a way of marking you so other beasts knows to back the fuck off it's called biting,the first night you ever discover the chamber of secrets together(wink wink nudge nudge)he bit down on your neck,it leaves a pretty little flower mark that's imbued with his power it's very very very tiny teeny I cannot stress enough how tiny it is so it's safe

• now if you EVER even say someone else is cute then oh boi oh my,now I have established that he is jealous have I?,no?well too bad because he is,and his jealousy doesn't play nice,he will rip out the heart and torture the person over and over and over each time reviving them again and again and put a curse of Resurrection on them only to leave them in a forest of ravaging beasts that has lost their minds to be feasted upon and tortured until he sees them having suffered enough. ಠ⁠︵⁠ಠ Moral of the story? don't just don't say anyone is cute (yes not even babies) (he won't like k.o them but he will like curse them or sum sht )

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on that note good night people

#yandere dragon #Yandere X reader #tw yandere #yandere monster x reader #Yandere dragon X reader #yandere x yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere x willing reader #Dear god why is tagging so frustrating? #monster fic

[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 3 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley realizes why you started running hot and then cold with him. He makes sure he remedies the situation with you. 

Warnings: Fluff, angst and swearing (eventually 18+)

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

Bradley was counting down the minutes until he could leave work on Monday. The sporadic, slightly flirtatious texts between you and him Saturday night and all day Sunday were driving him wild. 

He couldn't fucking wait to see you. He kept imagining how you would react to him in person now, especially after what you texted him this morning.

You should wear your hat backwards later today. That looked good on you.

Really, nothing about that was dirty, but it seemed to have that type of effect on him. Plus it meant that you were thinking about him, which left him grinning.  

"Rooster, look alive, man," Jake told him, slapping him in the chest with a copy of the newest F/A-18 flight manual. Bradley grunted as the massive book made contact, and he glared at Jake. "What's got you distracted? Excited about all the MILFs you're going to see later? I wish Bob had asked me to coach with him."

Bradley just shook his head. "Moms aren't my type. Too complicated." He just wished he still believed himself when he said it.

Then he settled into the seat next to Nat, ready for a long lecture about his aircraft, his imagination drifted to you. He imagined the three of you at the Phillies game, all in matching backwards hats. There was no doubt in his mind that he'd like the way you looked with a hat that way, too.

Maverick's voice droned on in the background, and Bradley was pretty sure the information he was giving would be useful to know, so he forced his mind back to the present.

Once they were all dismissed, Bradley headed to the locker room to change out of his khaki uniform. When he glanced over at Bob, he chuckled. 

"You know, we could wear our uniforms to practice one day. Drive the moms wild," Bradley said as he unbuttoned his shirt. 

Bob just shook his head. "None of them know I'm in the Navy, and I don't plan on telling them."

"Oh," Bradley said as he unzipped his pants. "I did tell one of them that we're aviators."

Bob laughed lightly. "Let me guess, Everett's mom?"

Bradley decided not to reply. He just shrugged and pulled on his Tiny Eagles tee shirt and gym shorts. Then he pulled his worn out Phillies cap onto his head. Backwards. 

"I'll see you over at the ballfield," he told Bob as he exited the locker room and headed for the Bronco. 

There was just something about you. Yeah, you were pretty. But lots of women were pretty. Yeah, he liked the way your body looked. But the female form was something that never failed to get him going. 

He wanted to flirt with you. He wanted to make you warm. He wanted to wear his ratty, old Phillies hat the way you liked it. Which was just a terrible idea, since dating a mom was not on his agenda. Even sleeping with someone who came with baggage was something he avoided at all costs, whenever he could. 

Bradley mentally scolded himself for even briefly believing that a sweet kid like Everett could be considered baggage. He wasn't quite that shallow. But he liked his life simple. 

Perhaps he should have kept the phone number of that woman from the bar. 

He coasted into his usual parking spot and made his way toward the ballfield. He stretched and ran the bases a few times, basking in the early evening sunlight. When Bob arrived, they tossed a ball back and forth for a few minutes until the kids started to arrive.

"You miss playing," Bob said with a smile. "Why don't you play with the officers rec league?"

Bradley shrugged after he threw the ball to Bob one last time and removed his glove. "Because, no offense, but they suck."

Bob laughed loudly. "I resent that! I play center field!" 

Bradley just grinned. "I know you do. Listen, I wanted to play pro ball until I was twenty-one years old. And while I love being an aviator, I am still good at baseball."

"Coach Bradley!" called Everett as he came streaking across the field. 

"Hey, kiddo. You get lots of rest over the weekend? Ready to play?" he asked the kid, tugging down the bill of his cap and making him laugh.

But then Bradley saw you.

Okay, this was a problem. The whole text thread between the two of you was playing in his mind now as he watched you walk across the grass, hopping on one foot as you changed out of your high heels as you went. You were wearing a plain gray suit and trying to talk on the phone while you juggled your shoes and Everett's gear bag.

You looked complicated as hell at the moment. This was a problem, because Bradley's mind was telling him he suddenly liked complicated. 

"Start warming up with Coach Bob," Bradley told Everett as he patted him on the head. That same warm sunlight that had felt so perfect on Bradley's skin was illuminating your face and hair, and he was already looking at you when he saw your eyes catch on him.

"I need to go, Frank. We can figure it out later," you said, pulling your phone away from your ear and ending the call.

"Hi." Bradley's voice was laced with everything he really wanted to say to you in person but didn't think he should.

"Coach," you replied softly, your long lashes fluttering against your cheeks as you closed your eyes for a beat.

"You give any more thought to the merits of sitting behind home plate versus sitting in the outfield?" Bradley asked softly, just for you to hear. 

The way your lips parted wordlessly as you played with your hair had him grinning. You crinkled up your nose in that way he already loved as you looked down at the field. "Are you really serious about going to the game with Ev and I?"

He wasn't actually completely sure before this moment, but now he was. "Yeah. Of course I'm serious. Should I ask Everett where he wants to sit? Since you don't seem to care? And since I'll have an equally good view of you from any seat?"

This time when you raised your eyes to meet his, he could feel them examine every inch of his chest and arms and the scars along his neck. Your gaze didn't move from his mouth as you whispered, "You're making me flustered." Then your eyes met his, and Bradley could feel your hesitation that wasn't evident through texting. 

"I'd love to be responsible for that. You look cute when you're flustered."

Your eyes went wide as you muttered, "And you look cute with your hat like that."

The sound of Bob's whistle had both of you jumping so that you almost collided. Bradley could hear you mutter, "Oh shit," as you pressed your hand to your forehead and turned away from him to find a seat on the bleachers. And try as he may, he couldn't seem to catch your eye at all during practice. 

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You were embarrassed. Coach Bradley and all of his flirty text messages were making you silly. 

He really seemed to want to take you and Ev to a baseball game. He had told you twice that the best seat in the house would be one where he was looking at you. 

Nothing was ever going to be that easy for you though. As soon as Everett spent a Sunday afternoon watching baseball and eating ice cream with his coach, he was going to want that to happen all the time. 

You were afraid you were going to want it all the time too. You were so attracted to Bradley. The way he flirted with you was subtle and yet intentional, and it left you craving more from him already. 

How much was he willing to give? How available was he? How available were you? Frank wanted to get together with you again this week, but you didn't know if you'd be able to get a sitter for Everett. You didn't know if you wanted to see Frank outside of work anymore either. 

But you could imagine sitting at Petco Park eating nachos and drinking a beer with Bradley while Ev ate ice cream out of a tiny plastic helmet.

"Fuck," you groaned, forcing your attention to remain on Everett even though you could practically feel Bradley's eyes on you. 

Everett was better at tee ball than you had expected him to be. He managed to hit the ball over Bob's head pretty consistently, and you cheered for him when he turned and looked toward you. This is what he needed; an outlet for all of this energy and some male role models. 

When practice ended and Bob announced that each child could come up and get their jersey for Saturday's game against the Tiny Hawks, Everett was practically vibrating with excitement. 

"Mommy, I get a jersey just like the ones the coaches wear!"

You chuckled and kissed his cheek. "You sure do. Listen for your name."

When Bradley called his name, Everett went sprinting up to get his jersey, and you watched Bradley help him put it on over his shirt. Then he sprinted back to you and hugged you around your middle.

"Let's get going, sweetie. You must be hungry," you said, tossing his equipment into the bag, trying to make a hasty exit. You didn't want to continue your conversation with Bradley, because you were so mixed up at the moment. 

And that's when you heard him talking to Henry's mom. 

"Coach Bradley. I was hoping we could exchange phone numbers, just in case you ever needed any extra help with anything."

"Uh, sure, Sandra. Our Team Mom probably has everything under control, but what's your number?"

You shoved Everett's cleats into the bag and rushed him through getting his sneakers on. And all the while you heard Sandra offering her help with anything he might need. The worst part was the way she was rubbing Bradley's arm when you decided to glance in their direction. 

"Let's go," you told Everett, ready to make a run for your car. How embarrassing! You'd flirted with your kid's tee ball coach over text all weekend, and now he was lining up Sandra, who was of course fucking gorgeous.

Gross. You felt jealous. You never felt jealous. Danny had been cheating on you for the last year or so of your marriage, and you'd never felt this way! You'd been mostly content knowing that you had Everett to make it all worth it. 

So this felt wrong. The cold envious feeling seeping under your skin. Just wrong.

The two of you almost made it to your car, and of course, like an idiot, you had parked next to the Bronco again.

"Hey!" Bradley called, closing the distance as he jogged up. "I didn't get to say goodbye." He high fived Everett next to your car, and then you ushered Ev into the backseat. 

"So, I'll see you on Thursday?" Bradley asked, ducking his head a little bit, trying to get you to meet his eyes. 

"Yes," you told him, grasping your door handle. But he only let it swing open a few inches before he caught it in his massive hand.

"What's wrong?" he asked you softly. 

You sighed and met his eyes. "I thought we originally exchanged numbers just to talk about team business."

Bradley cocked his head to the side. "Yeah... we can make it just team business, if you want. But I obviously wanted you to be the Team Mom. And I was kind of enjoying the more...personal chit chat."

You scoffed. "I get it. I do. But if you want to exchange numbers and have personal chit chat with all of the moms who are clearly interested in you, then maybe you and I should keep it businesslike." 

When you wrenched the door open another foot, he didn't stop you this time. But he still gently closed it for you.

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The next morning, you felt a lot better. Bradley hadn't texted you, and you weren't about to text him. It was honestly better this way. He could flirt with Sandra as much as he wanted to, and now you didn't have to worry about anything except whatever was strictly required of the Team Mom.

When Frank knocked on your door at lunchtime, you had just finished up a project. So you let him come in, and soon he was kissing you. It felt pretty good, so you let him unbutton your shirt as well. 

"Baby, how about a quickie?" he whispered next to your ear before kissing your neck. 

That didn't sound too bad. Now that you had rid your system of yearning for Coach Bradley.

"Okay," you whispered when he started kissing the tops of your breasts and caressing your sides. You unzipped your suit pants and slid them down your hips along with your underwear while Frank pulled a condom out of his wallet and locked your door.

Bent over your desk with your cheek pressed to the smooth wood surface, you let your eyes drift closed. And that was a big mistake. Because it was too easy to imagine a backward cap, a mustache and a deep, raspy voice in your ear. 

You felt him slide inside you, stretching your pussy in the process. It felt so much better than it usually did, you had to bite your lip to suppress a moan. Then he was moving, and you could practically smell sweat, spicy deodorant, and the freshly watered grass of the infield. Is this how it would feel to be bent over the wooden bleachers and fucked by Bradley? His mustache grazing the back of your neck as he whispered those flirtatious text messages to you? 

Hands gripped your hips, squeezing you tight as your pussy was filled over and over. He would love taking you from the back like this, quick and dirty. Unrelenting. 

You were gasping now, your lungs tight with each breath as you imagined his voice. You look cute when you're flustered.

"Oh," you groaned, and the pressure increased bit by bit. "Oh!"

He'd fuck you so good. He'd take care of everything you wanted. He'd press his mustache to your pussy, rubbing you until you cried. He'd finger you while he drove you around in his Bronco. You could picture it all so clearly. Feel it seamlessly.

Legs shaking, you fucked yourself back against him, wanting as much pressure as you could get. Then you felt it, and you knew it was going to be good. Your orgasm washed over you quickly, and you lifted your head off your desk, suddenly alert. 

You were with Frank. You were coming so fucking hard on Frank's dick while you thought about another man. 

"Oh! Fuck! Ohhhh," you moaned, completely shocked, totally stunned. It felt like you had been with Bradley. And now you were conscious of all the noises Frank was making as he blew his load into the condom. 

You stood with your back to him and quickly started to get your clothes in order with shaking hands. 

"Sounded like you really enjoyed that, baby," Frank said, and you could hear the smug smile in his voice.

Hell yes, you had enjoyed it, but not because of him.

"I have a lot of work to do," you muttered, rubbing your hands along your burning hot neck. 

"Let's do this again later this week," Frank told you, kissing your cheek before he left.

You dropped into your seat and spent the entire afternoon thinking about what you had done.

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It took Bradley until Tuesday to realize what he had done wrong. You must have heard or seen Sandra with him. Fuck. He was just trying to be as accommodating as he could without telling Henry's mom to back off; he'd have to see her multiple times per week for eight more weeks!

But you'd gone from a simmering warmth with him to frosty cold on a dime. And that must have been why.

He didn't know how to make it up to you, and he didn't want to text you since you'd told him no more personal talk.

So he waited until Thursday at practice. When you pulled into the parking lot, you avoided the spot next to his Bronco. And you and Everett stayed in your car until practice was about to start, hustling across the grass at the last possible minute. 

You were not going to make this easy for him.

Everett came running over to join the rest of the team just as Bob was dividing the kids into two groups. But Bradley could only focus on you. Your hair was swept up today, exposing your graceful neck, and you were wearing a black pencil skirt with a tight blouse tucked into it. You seem to have forgotten your beat up sneakers today, because you were walking around the field on tiptoes so your heels wouldn't get ruined. 

You looked smoking hot, and you were not sparing a single glance in his direction. 

"Bradley!" Bob called. "Focus."

"Right, sorry," Bradley replied, reluctantly taking his spot behind home plate where he couldn't spend the next hour looking at you. 

He watched the kids go through the batting order, and then had them start practicing in the field. They were actually pretty good, and Bob was always such a calm presence that they responded really well to him. Bradley thought they would do well against the Tiny Hawks in two days. 

Once the kids were dismissed, Bradley followed Everett to the bleachers, and on the way he asked, "Is it cool if I walk you and your mom to the car again, kiddo?"

"Yeah! My mom would like that too!"

Bradley wasn't so sure, but now at least he had his in with you. 

"Hi," you said as Bradley approached, and he watched you kneel down in that tight skirt, his mind going to the filthiest places imaginable. If you turned and looked at him over his shoulder, he would probably end up embarrassing himself. 

"Hi," he rasped, pressing his lips together as you helped your son change his shoes. "Everett said it would be cool if I walked with you two up to the parking lot."

"Whatever," you said without looking at him. So Bradley walked up with Everett between you and him as usual. 

"What do you do in the Navy?" the kid asked him. 

"I fly airplanes," Bradley told him. "And I wear all these cool pins so people know I'm a Lieutenant."

"What's a loo-tent?" Everett asked, and Bradley saw you trying to hide your grin.

"Nothing, really. It's just a fancy word for someone who still has to salute to pretty much everybody else." 

Now you were biting your lip as Everett tried to pronounce Bradley's rank over and over again until the three of you reached your car. Bradley opened the back door and placed the gear back on the floor as Everett scampered in, but then he put a firm hand against the driver's door so you couldn't open it. 

"Hear me out?" Bradley asked, and your eyes finally met his. Your eye makeup made them look impossibly big, and he could feel the saliva pooling at the back of his tongue. 

"About what?" you asked softly, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I think I gave you the wrong impression about who I have and have not been talking to in my free time. Sandra did give me her number, but I will only text her back if she needs information directly related to the Tiny Eagles." 

Your lips parted, but you didn't say anything so he continued.

"And yeah, as soon as you volunteered to be Team Mom, I was jumping at the chance to get your number. But can you blame me?"

"You were?" you asked, a look of disbelief on your face. But when he ducked down to meet your eyes and nodded, you ducked to the side and crinkled your nose.

"Yeah, Kitten. I was. So you can put your claws away now."

You sucked in a breath, and your arms fell loosely to your sides as you looked at him. All embarrassment was gone as your expression softened and your pupils went wide. "Did you just call me Kitten?"

"Mmhmm. You've got some claws on you, yeah? And you scrunch your nose up like a cat. Cutest thing I've ever seen."

Bradley's body was humming, and the look of pure desire on your face as you inched closer to him had him aching.

"Are you going to keep calling me Kitten?" you whispered, your eyes lazily taking in his lips and mustache.

"You liked that." He was telling you, not asking. 

You were the one nodding this time, and Bradley bit back a groan as your fingers teased the back of his hand. "And which would you prefer I call you? Coach Bradley or Lieutenant Bradshaw?"

Bradley did audibly groan this time. "You're trouble, Kitten."

"You didn't answer my question." You were smirking now, desire mixing with boldness in your eyes. 

"You can call me anything you want."

You nodded up at him, such a smug look on your face as you reached behind you and opened your car door. Bradley watched you gracefully ease yourself onto your seat. 

"I'll see you on Saturday," he whispered, and then he cleared his throat. "Can't wait for our first game, kiddo," he added a bit louder, smiling at Everett in the backseat.

"Bye, coach!" he called to Bradley.

"Yeah, bye, coach," you added, and Bradley closed your door softly. 

As you pulled away, he started to make the long walk back to the bleachers to grab his own gear with a smile on his face.

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Coach and Kitten! Ahhh! Big thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

PART 4

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x female reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw x female reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley rooster x reader

[hausofneptune]

THE GEMINI ARCHETYPE

﹕PLANETARY RULER: MERCURY

﹕ELEMENT: AIR

﹕MODALITY: MUTABLE

﹕POLARITY: DIURNAL

﹕SYMBOL: THE TWINS (CASTOR AND POLLUX)

﹕BODY PART RULERSHIP: THE LUNGS, NERVES, ARMS, AND HANDS

﹕PLANETARY DIGNITIES: MERCURY IN GEMINI (DOMICILE), JUPITER IN GEMINI (DETRIMENT)

↝ before we get into this i feel like we have to acknowledge the negativity surrounding gemini lmao. gemini (alongside scorpio) is a sign that gets unnecessarily dragged, so much so to the point where people will unironically refer to negative stereotypes when describing the nature of the sign. i say all that to say, the “two-faced” stereotype is so tired. gemini is an air sign and is ruled by mercury, which means it’s driven by mental stimulation. gemini has the capacity to see things from all sides, and will actively go out of it's way to reach an answer on it's own and typically won't settle for whatever answer is given to them. people can struggle to understand gemini energy because it's very difficult to pin down, and this isn't a result of them being evasive in the way that libra or pisces can be, as gemini is very passionate and unafraid to voice their opinions. it's just that they tend to have very passionate opinions about quite literally everything, so much so that those around them can struggle to know what it is that they actually do stand for.

↝ gemini is a very adaptable, ever-changing sign, and people with prominent gemini placements tend to excel in communication due to the fact that they can innately understand where other people are coming from regardless of their differences. they're also very fast-paced, and even erratic at times in regards to consuming information as well as expressing it, it's why they tend to excel in academia (that they're actually passionate about) as well as creative fields, specifically writing and music. they have a knack for weaving together concepts and ideas that the average person wouldn't think to, which can make them pioneers in their field of expertise. they tend to be very naturally charismatic, and people who have a good amount of gemini in their chart are definitely the types who can walk into a room and captivate everyone in it.

↝ i also feel like a lot of gemini slander is derivative of the fact that geminis don’t necessarily have the best roster when it comes to representation lmfao. donald trump, kanye west, amy schumer, johnny depp, and azealia banks are very accurate representations of unevolved gemini energy in their own ways. someone with unevolved gemini placements is contrarian, self-serving, and overly occupied with playing devil's advocate. and while the latter can be understood, and even beneficial in certain cases, there are cases where gemini may need to step back and ask themselves why they're constantly advocating for the devil. gemini's hate acknowledging it, but there are situations where the mental gymnastics aren't called for or necessary, and the answer that they're wracking their brain for is very obviously in their face.

↝ it's important to remember that this isn't representative of gemini as a whole, though. gemini's purpose is to build the bridge between different ideas, concepts, people, and cultures. albeit, gemini definitely has to work towards being more empathetic, and receptive to the emotional stakes that are held within certain ideologies. having emotional intelligence is more important than being perceived as being intelligent. gemini innately understands the depth of certain philosophies, and with that power they need to be conscious of the fact that it can be easily weaponized and used as a means to placate their own ego instead of progressing society forward. ultimately, there is a reason why so many artists (rappers specifically) are geminis. they have the innate ability to connect people through their chosen form of self-expression, and it's very beneficial when their talents are actually used to bring people together to understanding varying perspectives.

﹕GEMINI CELEBRITIES: andré 3000, angelina jolie, azealia banks, brian cox, chris evans, faith evans, kanye west, kendrick lamar, lauryn hill, laverne cox, lisa lopes, marilyn monroe, naomi campbell, normani, pam grier, prince, remy ma, tom holland, tupac shakur, zazie beetz

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#astrology #zodiac signs #gemini #gemini astrology #astro notes #gemini zodiac #gemini archetype #zodiac moodboard #gemini moodboard #gemini placements #astrology notes #gemini energy #astrology observations #birth chart observations #birth chart reading #astrology aspects #astroblr #astro placements #astro observations

[rageprufrock]

Hi Pru, this is a career question... I am in my mid-twenties, female, not quite the most junior employee at my organization but treated often as one. The workplace is highly male-dominated, competitive, the older supervisors sometimes hilariously old-boys'-club, and the younger men (my age) mean well (feminist, etc.) but have their own territories to defend. For complicated reasons I cannot leave. I knew some of this coming in but am ashamed to say that

You’ll love this: my response is so late because I too girlbossed too close to the sun and have accidentally reached mid-senior leadership status at my organization and the past month has been the most hilarious cluster of fucks. Insert clown emoji herey.

ANYWAY.

I have a few thoughts on this one, and hopefully one, or some, of these are helpful as you're navigating your early career.

To address your most immediate question: is it meant to be this hard? I think "is it meant" or "is it always" are two different questions, and each with branching answers completely dependent on your field and profession. Some are notorious for early career hazing--banking, medicine, etc--and then the answers are that the suffering is a feature, not a bug, for these industries (this can be debated ad nauseum but you know what I mean), and then for many, many other professions, the answer is that while it's not meant to be this difficult, it still is, and that it's all we can do to survive it.

But setting aside the macro issues, of whether the role itself is objectively hard or if the environment you're in is objectively sub-optimal, the more nebulous and inescapable thing is that each one of us, individually, in our early career are undergoing one of many puberties and all its attendant implied indignities. I find it weird that culturally we don't talk about this much--at least not in Western or the Eastern cultures with which I'm most conversational--but think about it: in the first five to ten years of your working life, you're often simultaneously navigating a staggering number of life-changing systemic shifts that have a tectonic impact on your lived experience. I

For a lot of us, beginning your life as a working adult means you're likely moving out of your parents' home, which adds a huge amount to your mental load and financial burden.

For a lot of us, these early professional jobs are also the first time we're operating in a performance-reward system for which there is no clear rubric or understandable progression monitoring--there aren't any grades, and I can't tell you the number of people who I've spoken to in my career who have been shocked when they're told they're being put on performance improvement plans even though they thought they were doing fine.

It's like being sent to college with no class list, textbooks hidden in eight different departments run by varyingly helpful people, while trapped in an inescapable group project run by someone who seems just as frazzled as you are, and told "okay well you should need to bring me your completed degree by EOD Thursday." This doesn't even take into account your genetic assignment to play this entire game on hard mode by failing to be a cisgendered man in the dominant cultural demographic.

People who've had multiple jobs and career changes can attest, every new job, no matter how seasoned you are, is fucking exhausting. It's almost a joke among my friends at this point how often I change jobs, and every single time I do, there's at least a six month run where at the end of every day, I'm fucking spent. I couldn't calculate 1+3 if my life depended on it, because I've spent my working day so furiously trying to read the professional tea leaves and figuring out what the actual fuck I'm supposed to be doing--which, funnily enough, is never as clear as you would think! Even if you are at increasingly senior levels of responsibility! It's really fun and good! Your boss's boss's leadership team meetings? Surprisingly similar to when I used go get coffee during my break working at an ice cream shop to complain about our customers and equipment and boss! It's amazing how no matter how much changes, everything stays the same!

So I think in the end, my answer to your question is this:

Is it meant to be this hard? Depending on what you do, maybe.

But should it be this hard? Of course not. Life is short and lush and wonderful, but already so filled with challenges, and it's a shame that being rooted in capitalism, we're all forced to participate in a system that's so unbending and unforgiving.

But does that mean it's going to be forever? Or that you can't survive and thrive and have fun in the process? Absolutely not.

However awful you feel, however bad the job is, it doesn't have to be forever. This role you're in now may be just what you need to find your next, better, better paid opportunity. And maybe that one won't be the ideal for more than a year, maybe two, but that's why you keep an eye out and a keen focus on what you want, and what's most important, and like a shark, you continue to move and grow as you get clearer on where you want to move and how you want to grow. The person I was at 24 could not have imagined the person I am at 38, and I'm guessing that the woman I am today can't fathom who I'll be in another 10 years. Whoever she is, I hope she's still choosing to do hard things and--to the very best of her ability--having a good time in the process.

It's okay to cry about work. It's okay to cry at work, even though I strongly recommend that you do this huddled in a restroom in privacy because otherwise it gets messy--fairly or otherwise. It's okay and normal to do these things. It's okay and normal to feel like a fucking disaster, to feel--or to in actuality!--be categorically failing. It is okay and normal to hate and love your job, and to love money and hate the work. There is no right way to do this, and the only wrong way is to give up on yourself, or to create a situation where you cannot have the freedom of your choices or your future.

It's also going to get easier with time. Even if you don't feel it, every day you're getting more experienced, more confident, more discerning. Those microscopic, atomic changes in you accrue, and I'm sure if you're honest with yourself you can already identify how even today, you are a stronger, more capable person in your professional context than you may have been just a year or two ago. Even if you don't mean to do it, just the experience, the bruises, the callouses from throwing yourself at the brick wall over time will rewrite the person you are--if you do this with your eyes open and intentionally, all the better.

Five years from now, ten years from now, you might still find yourself crying about work. But hopefully you'll share the good fortune I have been privileged enough to have, and find yourself the type of good friends who say, "don't care during work hours, it's beneath you to give them the satisfaction--cry later," and actually have the wherewithal to follow that extremely correct guidance.

So anyway, it shouldn't be this hard, but it is. The good thing is, you're better and stronger than it is, and you can look forward to the day you get to look over the shoulder at all the worlds you've conquered as you get ready to do it all over again.

💖

#advice #career advice

[222hopelessromantic444]

do you mind writing smth angsty for donnie darko??

thanks in advance <33

ofc hehe thank u so much for the request<333

I'm currently on a different continent so this will be a short one- hope u still like it tho♡

btw feel free to request something else if this isn't what u wanted c:

The Killing Moon

Donnie meets you on a field to lock at the stars and talk.

The soft moonlight gently illuminated his features as he moved closer to you, resting his head in your lap. Just minutes earlier, Donnie had tossed small rocks at your window, prompting you to groggily open it at 2 in the morning.

Since your room was on the third floor, you had to quietly sneak out of the house to meet Donnie outside. With minimal conversation, he pulled you along, explaining that he couldn't sleep and practically had to see you.

You and Donnie had been a couple for nearly five months. While you talked a lot, there were some topics you two never really spoke about.

He had told you about his mental illness, and you had quietly listened, offering warm hugs whenever his voice cracked or his eyes welled up. This was one reason he adored you so much—the fact that you just listened and tried to understand, genuinely caring about him.

Donnie led you to an empty field with a breathtaking view of the night sky. As you both lay down, his head resting in your lap and your hands gently stroking his hair, he began to speak.

Donnie gazed at the stars, a sudden heaviness in his chest. "Have you ever wondered if there's something more out there? Like another reality that we're missing?"

Minutes of silence passed, your gaze fixated on the night sky while your fingertips soothingly massaged his scalp.

You turned your head to look at him, your own thoughts swirling. "All the time, Donnie. It's as if we're trapped in this life, merely going through the motions."

He sighed, frustration tinting his voice. "It feels like we're following a script we didn't choose. Do we truly have any control over our lives?"

His blue eyes fixed on your features, a questioning, yet sad expression on his face.

Your fingers traced patterns on his soft skin. "I wish we did. Sometimes, it seems like the universe is nudging us in directions we never wanted to take."

A breeze rustled the leaves, a sense of unease settling in. "What if we're mere illusions? What if our feelings aren't real but rather a cruel trick?"

Your fingertips stopped their movements, your gaze meeting his, but his stare remained locked on the sky.

"Donnie, I believe our feelings are real," you said softly. "However, reality might be more intricate than we can imagine. Perhaps there are unseen forces at play."

He turned to you, his eyes searching yours. "I want to believe that. I want to think there's a purpose behind all this suffering."

Tears glistened in his eyes. "I understand, Donnie. It's just... challenging to find meaning when everything appears so chaotic and confusing."

He reached out, his fingers tenderly grasping yours and pulling your hand from his hair to his chest. "I'm lucky you're here with me. In this messed-up world, you're the one thing that feels real."

Your fingers entwined, holding on as if grounding each other. "And you're the one who keeps me from going completely lost, Donnie."

The stars above seemed to twinkle with a sad understanding, as if witnessing their shared pain. In that field beneath the expansive universe, Donnie once more saw how much you cared about him. Even if there is an other universe, he'd never wanted to leave his. Because of you.

#donnie x y/n #donnie darko x reader #donnie x reader #donnie darko #donnie darko angst

[megpricephotography]

So I'm thinking about a dog in 2024 and I am absolutely in love with border collies.. I know thier energy is insane.. This is my question, do you walk everyday, of course you do, how far do you walk? What would I be in for? Do they bark often? I also enjoy black Labradors.. Your blog is quite amazing.. 🙏🐕

That’s wonderful you might be getting a dog next year! Whichever breed you decide on, I hope you find yourself a fantastic companion & enjoy many happy years of adventures together :) Thanks, I'm so glad you enjoy my blog!

I’ll answer your 2nd question 1st: barking. Yes!! Some are louder than others... but most border collies like the sound of their own voice. They'll likely be more vocal than a labrador!

Now... exercising. Border collies are energetic. They need to run regularly & are always eager for a walk! Like most breeds, BCs are happiest (& easiest to live with!) when they're able to combine using their brains, with getting physical excise.

Many pet dogs, even "high energy" breeds, are able to fulfil a lot of their need for mental/physical exercise by going on regular walks... Walks where the dog is most left to its own devices but has the opportunity to run & fully engage its senses, exploring & interacting with the environment. If the owner wants to get more involved & play with the dog too, then great! However, if the owner is tired after a stressful day, then they can mostly mentally switch-off & relax in nature, while their pet has fun & tires itself out!

Unfortunately (& I think it's part of why they have a rep for making hyper/crazy pets), border collies are often pretty terrible at exercising themselves on this sort of walk - where they have to occupy themselves independently!

BCs want owner participation!! They want YOU mentally switched-on & involved in their activities - exploring the wider world is only as interesting as you make it! If they aren't kept busy herding livestock for you, or doing sports like agility, then a BC needs you to come up with other forms of entertainment/exercise, which you can do together. It doesn't need to be complicated, or involve you doing lots of hard physical exertion - but keeping a pet BC well-exercised & contented will take some mental effort, on your part.

They'll often benefit far more from a slightly shorter outing, where your focus is on them & making a real effort to engage & interact - rather than a much longer walk, where you're present but disengaged & expecting the dog to exercise itself.

For some people, the prospect of a pet who demands lots of engagement & interaction, could be more work than an active dog who "just" needs regular long hikes! However, if you like the idea of having a HIGHLY interactive dog - who thrives on doing stuff with you, then BCs can make wonderful, engaging, fun companions.

This got way too long... below are examples of how I keep Flynn "busy" & help him burn off mental/physical energy outdoors! My health isn't very good - I can't go very far & never go fast but Flynn doesn't mind... as long as we're interacting.

All pics below were taken a couple of days ago, in 2 adjacent fields.

Left to occupy himself, Flynn could spend hours out in these wide-open spaces & he'd still be bouncy/bored later. Not because he's insanely energetic - no, the daft dog simply wouldn’t DO anything tiring! If I ignore Flynn, he accepts it & potters along the path... & that’s the problem! He's an athletic, intense dog & he just potters! He's happy but barely using up any energy!! If I want Flynn tired, I have to give him reasons to use his body & - more importantly - his mind!

I take the part of shepherd & sheep & get Flynn herding me across the fields. We play hide-&-seek in the woods. He does tricks & balances on things. I take photos as it's another chance to interact. We might play search games too - I make him wait, go hide a toy/treats, then send him out to find them.  

A "game"(?) that's developed over time, is that Flynn loves to find & show me interesting stuff in the environment. Stuff he will not play with alone, but massively enjoys if I join in: piles of leaves, mole hills, tree stumps, good ground for digging! The more animated I am in reacting, the more enthused Flynn gets & the more he’ll exercise - racing way ahead to find the next fun thing & the next! He enjoys it if I show him stuff too!

Anyway, here he is in the 1st field, lying motionless but focused, as he waited for me to arrive & investigate the puddle he’d "discovered". It IS an excellent puddle.

Here he is, extremely excited at the prospect of supervising me stepping into the puddle & making a splash: 

Flynn's holding a nasty soggy chunk of grass because this was such a thrilling moment, he felt he needed to have something to bite on, or he might be tempted to nip my boot!!

Here he is in the 2nd field, intent on stalking closer, because I’d crouched down & just me doing that is EXCITING: 

I crouched to look for fossils. Didn’t spot any, so I grabbed random pebbles. Flynn finds it genuinely fascinating to watch me choose, pick up, examine & toss small rocks away… He'll eagerly "help" me do this, for as long as I'll let him. He darts after each stone, as I chuck it away, then quickly rush back to watch me choose another. Here he is, concentrating very hard indeed, on a vital Pebble Examination:  

Despite not going far, Flynn was mentally (& physically) tired out by the time we got home! Clearly, he'd done important work: herding, hiding, puddle-finding & pebble-inspecting ;-) Once Flynn's exercised, he'll happily sleep for hours on end.

[soracities]

i dont know if it is just me but i feel like art is dying. there’s like a lack of space for the artists to explore. a lot of limitation surrounding making art right now.

* I dont if i were able to articulate my thoughts well 😅 (english is not my first language)

oh no your english is fine, lovely, don't worry 💕

it's interesting to me because i think "art is dying" is a statement that is as old as art itself; it has existed in one form or another in every century--people have said this for as long as humans have been making art and for as long the art being made has differed from the art that came a few years before it, and also for as long as the societies it is being made in have changed. i don't necessarily believe that art is dying, because to me art isn't something that can die—it simply cannot be measured in that way; it's a fundamental part of being human and it is always going to be made, no matter what the external circumstances look like.

sometimes, when we talk about creativity and its current state in whatever society we're in, we tend to lose sight of the bigger picture because we measure so much by works and artists that are already "established" (often without examining what factors allowed them to be established): Art™, as we perceive it in its finest and therefore "purest" state, is what ends up in galleries, or the books that top the bestsellers or the "must read" lists, or the songs that become "anthems of the summer" or endure for decades. but for me those divisions aren't set in stone; i don't draw a distinction between the working father who gave up music and the established musician who didn't; one may only sing and play for his kids now and then and the other may get to sing and play for hundreds or thousands regularly, but the intent behind their craft is the same, the moment they create is the same: you are making something and it is reaching someone and it is, in that moment, binding you together and allowing a moment of joy (or relief or community, the possibilities are many). that is art to me: a moment where the world inside you finally becomes bigger than yourself.

that said, i do think there are growing threats to how art is made and to who gets to make it and how that art then finds its way into the world--creativity requires freedom, not just financial, but also psychological and emotional and you cannot make art when you are run off your feet with a zero hours contract, or living paycheck to paycheck, or grappling with mental health issues, or your mind is crowded with endless to-do lists that leave very little room for you to even just get back to yourself, let alone art-making. i can only speak for what i see in most anglophone western countries and in that regard i agree with you in that there is a lack of space for artists to explore, because that space is only available to those who can afford it: those who do not worry about finances because they have an established safety net, those whose time is not tied up in work commutes or full-time or part-time caregiving etc., those who have access to the resources / people / know-how necessary to succeed commercially in their chosen field, and so on.

art--and the freedom to make art, of any kind--are a necessity for our wellbeing but it is, right now, being made into a commodity that only a few people can have access to: this is not to say that someone lucky enough to be well-off cannot write a beautiful story or paint a beautiful picture or articulate a startling philosophy, but that when the only people who are able to put their art out into the world are all from the same world, or from off-shots of, or sharing in, an already similar experience (middle or upper class, for example), it narrows the potential landscapes that the art surrounding us can contain and the experiences it is informed by (i think it also sends a deeply disturbing message; art is the single most human activity, the single most enduring heritage we have as a species, regardless of race or gender--it has persisted for millenia and established the very notion of our humanity and all the facets of whatever a soul might be; so for it then to be cordoned off like this with the implication that something so primal and species defining belongs only to a chosen few, is deeply insidious). art can be a door or art can be a mirror, but what kind of a world will it be when those lead you, always, to the same place?

i'm deeply against the idea of art as something to put on a pedestal, so when i say that i don't believe art can die, i don't mean that i believe art is something too deep or eternal or transcendent to be affected by the world around it; i just mean that human nature is, quite frankly, stubborn (i don't even mean this in a conscious way, i think it's something that is just blindly instinctive): we will always find a way to make something and this something happens across a spectrum of circumstances--it happens in spite of censorship & totalitarianism, in spite of poverty and in spite of shackles, in spite of the dead-end job with the boss you hate and in spite of boredom in the classroom. in spite of and through all these things people have made art and they have couched it in metaphor, or dressed it up with humour or veiled it in irony, and some have been blatant in their refusal and others have been more circumspect and, yes, some of it has been public and enduring, but a lot of it has been private: lullabies passed down, origami roses made of napkins, a busker at a street corner you share 5 minutes of your life with as you listen to them and then never come across that musician again, a scarf knitted for a friend, a hole in a shirtsleeve stitched over in a heart shape and etc etc etc. some has been big, and some has been small, and some has been made, not for the sake of any kind of endurance or legacy, but simply because: because i am an i and i am in this world and it is what it is (grief-stricken, astonishing, painful, lonely, incomprehensible) and i lend my existence whatever shape i can, even if it's just drawing aimless patterns in the sand on the beach. when i say i don't believe art can die i just mean that, no matter what is happening in the world, someone, somewhere, will crack a dick or a sex joke or craft the most godawful pun known to man and it will still be hilarious.

this is longer than i intended but to sum up i think for me, more than anything, it's the structures around art, the mechanisms through which it engages, actively and widely, with its society as a whole, that are being limited or threatened (or are changing in order to do the limiting and the threatening). and even then, when you get down to it. i think that itself is about something more; i think the only real threat to Art, as it stands, is an existential threat which, ultimately, is not so much about art as a whole but the broader ramifications of what it means to be human, to be a collection of humans, bound together and interacting with the world we are currently living in, with the trajectory it currently has. i think the real focus of whether or not art is dying should be there, because it's not so much about art as an isolated activity: it's about us. x

#ask #anonymous #notes from elsewhere

[ley-med]

Hello.I’m seriously considering the ICU specialty.Can you tell me please some advantages and disadvantages of it ? :) Im pretty coolheaded,love to solve probs and small invasive procedures are ok ,too for me.. How does a life at ICU look like? I was on an ICU placement just once in my life as an internal medicine resident ,as a student ,and the work there really fascinated me.. Intubations,monitors,cardio versions.. Is it possible to specialise just in intensive care but not in anesthesiology?Thank You!

Hi Anon! You prompted me to ramble about one of my favourite things, my job, so sorry, long answer ahead...

To start with your last question, I know there are countries where intensive care and anaesthesiology are different specialities, but here it's one and the same. It is kind of possible to choose one or the other once you are an attending, and work at the right place, but you have to specialise in both. I started this residency because I was interested in intensive care, but my rotations started with anesthesia, and not gonna lie, I absolutely fell in love! Now doing both, I still say anesthesia is the real love of my life, and I can't imagine doing only intensive care without the relief anesthesia brings to it.

The pros of intensive care is that it's rarely dull, and when it's dull, the patient usually gets admitted back to their ward soon (yay!) (or you know, unfortunately there isn't much else to do for them, then the end of the story is near). It's important to like invasive procedures, because as they say, where there is a hole there's a tube, and where there is no hole, there will be... My favourite part about ICU is that we get to see and treat the patient as a whole human being, not just one organ or the other, because humans are a very complex system and you usually can't focus only on one part. Our job is mostly trying to hold up various balances, which will lead to the balance on the fine line between life and death. It is pretty exciting, in my opinion, but most of all, I just love knowing all these things about the human body. (And there is so much more I need to know...)

If you come from internal medicine, that's a huge advantage, but you will need to forget half of what you know. We don't really care about the long term stuff, we are always working in the present. It all needs to be done (almost) immediately, and needs to have an (almost) immediate effect. If we need some longer lasting solutions, we will absolutely consult medicine :) (Though in our hospital, we don't have any internal med wards, so it's usually the intensivists who get consulted for internal med questions anyway... But no we don't know everything, so far from it)

And many times, it's really only supporting the body until it heals on its own, with a little help here and there. Intensive care is really only about buying time...

The cons of intensive care, is that the stakes are always really really high. It's either an enormous win, which is one of the best feelings in the world, but most of the time, it all ends in death anyway, no matter what you do. Sometimes it feels like I just got a first class seat to watch people's suffering, without any way to help. I don't have any statistics at hand, but I would say 70% of our patients don't leave our ICU alive. We do what we can, but we aren't gods, and we can't cheat death. It can be really taxing, because while providing palliative care is just as important as any other kind of care, seeing gruesome death after gruesome death takes its toll, mental health wise. And that's why I say thank god it's a joint speciality with anesthesia, because when it all gets too much, a day in the OR will fill you up with instant successes (hopefully). When my patient wakes up and smiles at me, because they were so afraid but the dreaded surgery is finally over and they are alive? Always makes the world a brighter place.

One of the hardest parts for me, that sometimes you have to play god in this field, no matter how much you don't want to. The number of patients we can admit to the ICU is a definite number, so we have to decide who gets this chance at survival, and who to spare this torture. It's good that I'm still a resident, and the attending will make the final call, but nonetheless it is our responsibility...

On the bright side, this responsibility also brings me into the position of command sometimes, even if I'm only a mere resident. If they call me in for a consult, or if I end up in a situation which turns into an emergency, I am the team leader, and if I say come on we are putting our shoulders into saving this patient, everyone will work under my hands without a complaint.

This is all a teamwork. I think the whole of medicine is, but it applies to the ICU and OR tenfolds. Most ICU nurses aren't made of some delicate thing, it can be hard to earn their help, but without that, you are lost. Intensive care patients need constant supervision, and the nurses are the ones who are with them, they are the ones who know each beat of the patients' heart, they will be the ones constantly administering life saving medicines, and they will save your (and the patients') ass several times. And in cases where they are needed, we are dependent on our surgeons and traumatologists, because no matter how much we support this or that organ, as long as they don't work their magic, it's all a lost cause. (Honestly, sometimes you have to just stand there in awe, when you are thinking it's all lost, and they come up with such an ingenious solution...) Same in the operation room, it's a constant conversation and a very delicate cooperation between anesthesia, surgery, and the nurses.

To sum it up, it's all pretty hard work, with long 12 hour shifts that sometimes feel like 5 minutes because you just can't sit down and everyone is trying to die on you, and in the end you will find that the answer isn't that much different from internal medicine, it's usually either: oxygen, morphine, fluids, and or furosemide; you just have to figure out which one. And at times, figuring out isn't that exciting, it can consist of elevating the PEEP on the ventilation machine every hour or so, and hoping for the best. Those 12 hours will be the longest, with nothing to do, only waiting, and waiting...

#medblr #intensive care #residency #long post #anon #others might have different experiences #this is also pretty specific to my little trauma ICU #i haven't worked anywhere else yet

[dross-the-fish]

Someone recommended Lore Olympus to me. I’ve only heard about it from 2 sources, them and you. They gave the positive. I’d like to hear the negative. What’s your beef with it?

It's a long list, I have a lot of beef.

A friend recommended it to me and I gave some of it a read. I was put off by the art style, particularly since the protagonist is supposedly plus sized but aside from being curvy with big tits in some panels I would never have guessed this was meant to be anything other than a conventionally attractive character.

I really don't like the depiction of Persephone, she comes off as being creepily young and naive and the narrative tries to play that up like it's charming. The vibe I get off of her is "sexy baby who needs a father figure to guide and protect her" until she randomly has to do something badass and then she gets all red-eyed and starts kicking ass and it feels like it comes totally out of left field.

Her relationship with Hades is so incredibly tedious, they have zero chemistry and he's so much older than her and more obviously experienced with everything that it's legitimately exhausting to imagine myself in his shoes being a grown man with a full time career teaching some barely out of high-school kid how navigate the world, giving her a job at my corporation, and essentially have her be dependent on me while I'm struggling with my own toxic failing relationship. What is the appeal of Persephone as a love interest here? That she's nice? That's really all there is to her for the most part, that she's "nice" and "cute" which isn't really enough to make someone attractive as a potential partner.

I can understand maybe wanting to help some kid get on her feet after spending her life in a Mormon cult but nothing about that kid would ever read as "Wife material" at least not to me or any other adult over 25.

The dynamic between Hades and Persephone is just weird. She's an incredibly sheltered 19 year old who's never had ANY life experience or social interaction outside of a small circle approved by her mother and he's ancient but physically equivalent to being in his 40's and a ceo or something who's already in a relationship with a female character who was clearly written just to make Persephone look better by comparison.

While we're on it let's talk about Hade's first partner. An unlikable piece of crap named Minthe who has some clear mental traumas and insecurities that the plot never handles because asking the writer to to give these characters depth or dimension is like asking a chimp to write a symphony and that just ain't happening. Yeah, Minthe who is a nymph and part of the lower class, also employed by Hades and completely financially dependent on him. She is abusive and manipulative and any time we might feel like we can sympathize with her because Hades is practically cheating on her the writers make sure to make her do something that depicts her as being as unlikable as possible. Can't have Persephone willingly be a homewrecker or competitive that might make her INTERESTING! We can't have her be interesting! It makes her less "Cute" and "wuvable" *barf*

There's also a couple of instances of SA and they aren't handled well at all. It's mostly played for drama and only comes up if we need the characters to be sad.

Then there's the art

oh boy the art....

Look I know my own art is pretty rough and not the most consistent but LO is just too much for me.

Sometimes Persephone's face is drawn in a way that makes her look almost like a little girl and she's frequently in skimpy clothing or in suggestive poses, even when nothing in the story calls for that. If you're going to make her look provocative maybe don't make her face so punchable and insipid looking.

You can write this off as my personal bias. I loathe characters who are designed to look as "uwu baby" as possible. Unless it's specifically for a joke or something...

This is a bit of a nit pick but I have no idea how tall she or Hades are supposed to be.

In this panel She can barely see over the counter here for some reason and she's frequently drawn as being roughly around elbow height with him,

Just to illustrate how ridiculous of a height difference that is for two adults to have that's close to the height disparity between Edward Hyde and Adam Frankenstein. Unless Hades is between 7-8 feet tall there is no reason to draw your 19 year old character that much shorter than him.

Idk I didn't read all of it so I don't know if it gets better or if the characters improve but I found it to be a shallow experience that clearly I'm not the target audience for. Check it out and see what you think for yourself but there's my beef with it.

#lo critical

[mrsnuffy]

I posted a character analysis on Marc Snuffy on my rp blog a couple weeks ago and figured I'd share it to the fandom in general because I have thoughts. been analysing him to heck since I started writing him.

anyway, a small warning that this post is LONG.

tbh?????? I love the strong connection Marc's character and his arc have to mental health. like. it starts off in 214 where he talks about this shit.

and also voices that he takes full responsibility for any failures that happen.

and this shit continues in the next chapter

and then finally comes the explanation about how he and his best friend were at the top once. he talks about how they were incredibly talented and then proceeded to take full advantage of all the luxuries that came with being a pro. and they let their egos lead, skipping training because they believed they would win anyway. and then they started losing and were at the center of a lot of scandals. and. well.

I think this absolutely was traumatizing for him and that shows especially in the way he treats soccer. like. he quite literally starts off with 'if we lose, that is my responsibility. not yours. of course, I will do my absolute best to make sure that you will win.' he analyzes and analyzes and puts in tons of effort to make sure there are plenty of strategies that suit the other players. he puts in a ton of work to make sure that his teammates have to experience loss as little as possible.

and at the same time. he's also playing while constantly having his best friend on his mind.

he's clearly and noticeably doing everything he can to make sure the same thing will not happen again. and his focus on both this and his goal is visible in not only the massive amount of work he puts in strategies. it's also visible in the way he has trained himself.

also. he's so hecking intelligent and it is said repeatedly from the moment he appears on the field.

and just. the visible amount of work he put into being skilled in as many areas of playing soccer as possible and the ways he plays make one thing super hecking clear:

he's putting absolutely everything he can into making sure that the team he's on wins. both for the sake of his goal and to help his teammates and protect their mental health. and he's putting so much work into this that he's incredibly hecking quiet while playing. Marc observes and observes and observes and makes sure that he'll make the best plays to ensure victory. of course, he does makes the occasional sassy comment. but he spents the majority of the game looking like this:

to me, it feels like he's spending so much time worrying and thinking that he isn't really ENJOYING soccer. he's not having fun. he's just playing his role as 'Crown Messenger' ( his nickname in the soccer world ) and ensuring victory.

and here comes Barou, this kid who he has chosen to be his successor. for a while he does follow Marc's tactics, but with the intention to surpass him.

however, Barou ends up deciding to 'terminate the contract' and starts doing his own thing. and not only that!

Barou shows the mental strength to be able to learn from failure. he has learned about what he can pick up from losing and has developed a lack of fear towards uncertainty. he DOESN'T MIND DESPAIR. he DOESN'T MIND THE POSSIBILITY OF LOSING. HE DOESN'T CARE ABOUT HOW THE WORLD VIEWS HIM.

Marc is shown right here right now that this new generation of soccer players is going to be okay. the kids here at Blue Lock are developing a massive amount of mental strength, allowing them to learn from despair and failure.

and Marc is finally picking up on that and his behavior changes instantly.

these aren't tactics. this isn't something he prepared beforehand. this is him using his skills in the moment. and he's grinning while doing it.

HE'S HAVING FUN.

THIS IS THE START OF HIM HEALING AND MOVING FORWARD INTO A BETTER AND HAPPIER FUTURE FOR HIMSELF.

I think that shows really well in the leaks for 229 as well.

he's getting better. slowly. this is the start of his healing arc.

Marc knows the new generation is going to be okay.

and he's going to be okay too.

#bllk spoilers #bllk 229 #bllk snuffy #marc snuffy #suicide tw

[leomonae]

Soooo it turns out that if you're playing a do-gooding, self-sacrificing bleeding heart type who's basically contractually obligated by their religion to take on suffering in place of others doing so and also gives a fuck about what happens to the githyanki as a society...

(Massive spoilers ahoy!)

... you kind of inevitably wind up an illithid? Which, okay, fine, cool cool cool, as a healer this is pretty much the only time I've been at all effective in combat except when we're frying undead so that part is pretty awesome and apparently Ilmater is totally cool with all this since I still have my cleric powers, except now my prettyboy vampire boyfriend refuses to kiss me anymore, on the grounds that it won't work with my new mouth :(

The thing is, though, I've been mulling this over for the past fucking day I've been unable to just finish the damn game because of this slow-ass patching process courtesy of GOG, and I think I actually kind of adore this outcome? No, really, I could see this being great for Tav and Astarion's relationship, once he's had enough time to get over the whole... eldritch horror aspect of it all!

Benefit one: Tav's lifespan just became a total non-issue for them! Sure, I don't know and wasn't finding much regarding illithid lifespans, but my Tav was a human before; pretty much anything would be an improvement on that, next to how long a powerful elven vampire could expect to live. And honestly, illithid lifespan isn't even that important in that regard, because they have other options Tav could now actually take. There's no way she'd have ever agreed to becoming a vampire before, but now that the "I prey upon mortals to survive" line has already been crossed? The details of how she's going to handle things ethically hammered out? Why not go full-on vampiric illithid at this point, if that extends their time together? Hells, she could jump straight to illithilich if she wanted!

Benefit two: illithid are sexless. Sexless, but - crucially - with the potential to still be sex-positive, if we take that little interlude with the Emperor which broke my brain so badly the other week at face value. The most obvious implication of the narration was that what the mind flayer gets out of the whole experience is what their partner is putting in: that it's due to their psionic link, or whatever. Sure, there are still questions as to what part the tadpole played in facilitating said connection, but it's not like there aren't any other sources of mind reading or mental sharing that exist in the setting; my Tav is already running around with Detect Thoughts up constantly, I'm sure she can pick up some alternative just fine. The point is, Astarion and all his trauma just got himself a partner who not only wants him to genuinely enjoy having sex with them, but is quite likely literally physically incapable of deriving any carnal pleasure from the experience if he isn't.

Benefit three: illithid are naturally selfish and egotistical and risk-averse enough that my Tav probably just picked up a modicum of concern for her own survival, which I expect will be a massive weight off Astarion's mind after the past few weeks/months of watching her throw herself at wherever the most dangerous enemy on the field happens to be

Benefit four: illithid enjoy sunlight only marginally more than vampires do, which admittedly means that Tav is gonna have to buy a new mace soon, but also means the two of them now prefer complementary habitats and daily schedules

Benefit five: their diets are complementary too! They can split a bandit to avoid food waste!

[edit: benefit six: three times the upper limbs mean three times as many/thrice as good hugs for astarion]

In conclusion spawn Astarion + illithid Tav is clearly the happiest ending of them all, thank you for coming to my TED Talk

(also the going out in public part is pretty much a non-issue too, I tested out one of those cheap mundane disguise kits you can pick up and it worked perfectly fine even if the human female variant I used to be was not skinny and middle-aged with an afro, so I'm sure between Gale Shadowheart and Omeluum we can figure out a way of making me look like myself again in no time)

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #not wholly serious #but it does present some fun and interesting possibilities i must admit #illithid tav

[amateurletariat]

I recently brought up P2025 to the in-laws, and was met basically with:

"I will rephrase my question and pose it again: "What has actually happened? Not whether some groups disagree with you, or whether they propose legislation you disapprove of, or whether they disseminate views contrary to yours." Surely that is the mark of a free society rather than a tyranny. But no tangible changes have arisen. When 38 states ratify a Constitutional amendment outlawing all but 2 gender identities, let me know. Until then, the expression "a tempest in a teapot" comes to mind."

It frustrated the hell out of me and I definitely got short with them for what part of the rest of the exchange I could handle.

Well today I was finally able to come up with what felt like a decent response, and I'm throwing the rough draft up here.

I was asked "What has actually happened?"

I would like to address that here.

Anti-trans legislation that has passed so far is up to a count of 83. https://translegislation.com/bills/2023/passed

Things that have happened:

Book bans. If we're not allowed to learn about a topic how can we fight for or against it? Intentionally foisting ignorance of the existence of a population is one of the first steps of genocide.

Bills that force trans people to use public bathrooms that match their assigned gender at birth. This would force someone post transition into the wrong bathroom. Think a trans male that looks like the Rock being forced into the women's room.

Drag bans. Claiming drag, or any queer person simply existing, as being inherently sexual is one of many ways to erase us from the public eye. It is also used in the excuse of 'save the children' to prevent any so‐called perversion from being present.

'Don't Say Gay' in FL. Teachers are forbidden from "discussing or instructing" on any kind of sexual orientation or gender identity in the classroom, specifically K-3. Talking about hetero-normativity is not banned, however. This has opened the door to bans on discussion in older groups, as well.

Bills claiming to be about parental rights. These bills claim that school admins must automatilly report if a student expresses interest or asks to be called a different name or gender, forcibly outing them to parents in ways that may be unsafe. If a student doesn't feel comfortable coming out to their parents, that is a very likely indicator that it would be dangerous to do so.

Sports bans. Denying access to people that already have to go through HRT, and an incredible amount of testing to ensure a level playing field, is another way to prevent us from engaging in public life.

Outright bans on gender affirming care for anyone under 18. We have a plethora of evidence that shows preventing trans people, including trans youth, from accessing gender affirming care increases risks for things like self harm and suicide.

~~~

Trans people have a propensity for mental health issues, but that's primarily caused by anti-trans rhetoric at all levels.

People in congress are trying to push for trans people in the military to be stripped of gender affirming care.

People at the state level are banning trans people from bathrooms and public life.

People at the city level are doing the same.

Groups and individuals regularly target queer people with words and with violence.

Some other queer folx are even against trans rights, with movements like 'LGB drop the T' and similar.

When we are dismissed outright, or invalidated, when we are murdered at higher rates than most, we have dire need of substantial support. This means people educating themelves instead of relying on one or two people close to them. That means listening when we are distressed. That means understanding that just because you aren't aware of something or experiencing it first-hand that it isn't actually happening.

I am part of multiple groups that have been attacked and othered for most of our history.

I am neurodivergent ~ Autism and ADHD among others. I'm sure I don't need to go into detail about how ND folx have been and still are treated. Disability "benefits" are currently made to prevent us from having viable opportunity. Ableism is ingrained in our society.

I am jewish ~ We have been hunted down since the advent of the catholic church. Pogroms have been worldwide for millenia. Antisemitism is ramping up once again. I, and most of the jews I know, are tired and wary and scared.

I am queer ~ The gay panic of the 80s in which the government turned a blind eye to those suffering from AIDS. Gay marriage only began to be legalized less than 2 decades ago, and only became nationwide 8 years ago. My own mother took steps to do what she saw as curbing queer tendencies in me. Homophobia and transphobia are still quite prevalent, and we have much more work to do to ensure equality.

I am mixed race, including native ~ I think we all understand what is implied here. Native land has been regularly stolen for the exploitation of natural resources, to the extreme detriment of inhabitants.

Intersectionality abounds, amirite?

I was brought up not knowing any of that about myself. My education was white-washed and I didn't learn just how bad it has been for minority groups until I started educating myself.

I didn't learn who I truly was because information and experiences that were not pre-approved or considered 'appropriate' weren't allowed.

I was blamed and punished for being 'difficult' rather than anyone understanding I wasn't neurotypical.

My whole life I've been inundated with antisemitism..Learning about how jewish people were segregated from public life has made it more possible to see the parallels in anti-trans legislation today.

I didn't learn that the nazis destroyed *the* gender studies institute, until last year.

I wasn't taught about the trail of tears, except that it happened. A blurb in a textbook.

All this to say that while steps have been made to make things better for more people, there is *significant* pushback to reverse any social equality progress that has been made.

~

When I tried to bring up my concerns before, I felt outright dismissed. Entirely so. As though my concerns were entirely unfounded. That was incredibly invalidating and hurt immensely.

Please do the legwork of educating yourselves on issues that may not affect you. Getting to calmly debate matters of rights and economics is a privelege of those not under legislative assault.

[photmath]

I'd trust you more Emily to be apart of the recovery team than whoever in PSG. I'm sure the staff is great but I don't trust the institution behind them to put his mental and physical health first especially with all these constant transfer/selling rumors

OKAY. BECAUSE I DO HAVE A LOT TO SAY ABOUT THE PHYSICAL HEALTH ASPECT of this, so i'm going to sit here and spill it.

I HATE HATE HATE PSG'S RECOVERY TEAM. LIKE FULL SLANDER AHEAD TOWARDS THEM IDC. Just a straight, unrestrained piece of my thoughts and their physiotherapist team and LACK of professionalism.

TW: mentions of Hakimi, not of what is going on with him, but player-injury and performance wise. Kimpembe's ruptured Achilles ):

so not sure how many people know this but I’m a third-year undergrad student studying to be a physical therapist (PT) right. I’m American, so the logistics of this get lost between America and Europe--and even between the states of America because everything is so different when it comes to injuries and recoveries, etc. I recently found out that even like a team like PSG, doesn't have “athletic trainers” which is what we — Americans — call on-the-sideline medical people. they have “physiotherapists.” which in America, sounds similar to “physical therapist” but turns out it isn’t the same thing at all, although they're similar. Athletic trainers are the first on the scene, they're who you see that first treat an injured player (in America), and PTs are more behind the scenes. They're more in charge of the recovery process after an injury/problem, while the ATs do the first initial findings and just make sure the injured player gets off the field in a safe manner.

So my assumption, is that a physiotherapist (in anywhere other than America) is in charge of both on-the-sidelines examinations and off-the-pitch recovery?? I could be entirely wrong or maybe some are in charge while others aren't. In America, that is simply not how we do it, so I've just been trying to make connections ever since the World Cup. But if you know or anyone for that matter knows, please let me know because I am so intrigued.

Anyways, all that to say, Hakimi and Kimpembe's ongoing injuries should never had happened. It was known that after Morocco played their last match against France, that Hakimi was battling an ongoing thigh injury. He had been battling it throughout the WC. So when he returns to PSG, he plays for approx. 11min against Strasbourg on Dec. 28--which okay, not bad. Semi-green flag, although no one knows how injured/uninjured this thigh really is.

The real problem starts when he comes back to play the FULL 90min on Jan 1. Which, raised major alarms in my head, because this a hamstring we're talking about. Hakimi is known to be an explosive player, so it's bound to be strained whenever they sprint. Anyway, he's suspended for the next match bc of yellow card accumulation, so he doesn't play again until Jan. 15 (FIFTEEN!!!) for 34 min--which, okay, not bad. I'll let this one slide. It's a little over a 15-20min range and literally fourteen days have gone by without him playing a high-intensity 90-min match. So I'll say it's a yellow flag.

And then we hit the match against Riyadh and Hakimi plays for 64 min which okay, that isn't all that much bad but it's still kind of a lot. We've gone from 11min to 90min(!) to 34min and now 64min. Like seriously what are we doing here? Then, we have that 7-0 game in the French Cup that he plays for 31 min, which okay, we've dwindled down more than half of the minutes he previously played. Just I mean, the roller coaster is riding itself here. It's a lot, it's chaotic, not consistent. And consistency is what WE WANT. It shouldn't be chaotic at all.

He then plays FOUR matches for NINETY MIN EACH the next couple of weeks, BUT then only plays for 25min the game before Bayern. I think this was around the time he had reinjured his thigh at some point during training, so it tracks (and makes sense why he's having problems). Then, Hakimi is obviously subbed off during half time because of that thigh against Bayern. AND LITERALLY WHAT DID THEY EXPECT. i mean, i was so baffled at that. Just straight chaos at best there. We haven't seen him since that Feb 14 matchup [but won't be surprised to see him in the starting lineup against Bayern now that Mukiele is injured].

Kimpembe's history IS EVEN WORSE. LIKE HIS IS SO MUCH MORE WORSE. He hadn't played since November 2022! And even then it was on and off between his Achillies and hamstring in September-October 2022. So he misses the World Cup, doesn't play again until Feb 11 2023 against Monaco, wooo!! I think everyone did like a loud standing ovation when he entered at the 80th min, which wasn't bad. I liked that. Green flag!

But then Bayern match on Feb 14, Kimpembe is the one who replaces Hakimi at the 46th minute so you know okay, this situation certainly isn't ideal for Kimpembe, but PSG is just out of options here and it's Bayern. So, everyone is just forced into this bad position.

An Achillies injury, any kind of pain or minor sprain to it, is just complete ASS. It's awful, debilitating, I mean you simply cannot continue unless you want to endure major pain and cause further damage. An Achillies is like the major tendon that holds the whole backside of the leg together. I mean part of the ankle, bottom of the foot, and both calf muscles, are all being connected to this damn Achilles. So it's kind of important. Think, like the ACL of the knee.

And then Kimpembe plays the FULL 90 MINUTES in a match five days later. Red flag. I mean, c'mon now, it's a lot. I mean I wish I could say I was surprised that in his next match after that 90min game, he goes and ruptures his Achilles, but I wasn't. There was no gradual re-entrance of him. This is a defender we're talking about. Sprints and break-aways are going to happen. You have a guy like him with an injury like that play 10min-44min-90min back to back like that?? I get it, injuries were tight, defense was awful, the youngsters were playing horrible. But holy hell, why did we have to sacrifice our guy like that?

Kimpembe's injury should have never happened. It was too soon of a full-on return, not at all gradual, just completely awful management of both PSG's physiotherapist and medical staff--and fuck it, coaching staff. They obviously have the education so my opinion is just unvalid, but I don't understand how they were completely fine with letting Kimpembe play for so long in such short time. It wasn't like he was playing in mock 90-min scrimmages and following an explosive player (ex. Mbappe) around. They don't that. Scrimmages are no where near the real game anyway.

So yeah, that was a lot, but god only knows how upset I am about Kimpembe's situation and PSG's lack of efficiency. And God, do not get me started on Mukiele's CURRENT Achilles tendon pain going on or Nuno Mendes iffy return as well.

#i need a restraining order put on between me and psg's medical staff bc i will be throwing hands if im ever given the chance #if you see me in the streets make sure they aren't there too #also bayern vs psg defense is about to be a TESTY one #im intrigued at what god awful combination they'll end up doing for that

[pessiofficial]

barca vs. shakhtar donetsk match analysis (11/07/23)

wow, what can i even say. i have to start, i guess, by saying that we are in a really bad moment mentally. i think the clasico loss really took a toll on us. we haven't played as bad as we have in the last two games ever, and i've been watching barcelona since 2011. i've never seen something so anti-barca.

next i have to say i do NOT agree with sacking xavi. it's not the solution, especially not after two bad games. however i do think he is heavily to blame for what happened today. lewandowski should not be playing, period, but i understand we don't really have too many other options. but i'll get to him later, i want to go player by player and start with xavi. tactically we need a change, but the real sociedad game worried me more because we were actually playing our starters and not oriol/alonso.

okay, now to the players. i'll start at the back with ter stegen. despite my strong feelings about him i have to say he had a decent game and the goal wasn't his fault as much as the defense's. it could have been a lot worse without him.

next, christensen. he left the man completely unmarked but other than i didn't think he was really really bad. it was the one mistake that got us. araujo and cancelo were pretty decent and seemed like some of the only two players that were really trying to win. alonso is alonso, and balde played well when he came in.

the midfield was horrible. our build-up is nonexistent. part of this lies in the fact that xavi chose to play gavi higher up the field especially when he was doing so well in that deeper 8 role. he didn't get involved in the game. gundogan tried, to his credit. pedri did what he could when he came in and so did fermin. romeu i won't discuss, he's not my issue. there just needs to be so much more cohesion.

now for the elephant in the room. the attack. what can i say about them that isn't mean. lewandowski, ferran, and raphinha produced nothing today. 1 shot on target for an attack of this caliber is just pathetic. we need a real forward immediately, roque can't come soon enough. jesus.

anyway, overall this isn't how this team usually plays, i don't know what this was. i don't want to see us in the uel again, but if we play like this that's where we're going. all we need is one more point, and this was our best chance to do that. now we have to play porto, a much harder opponent, and i don't want to leave off qualifying until antwerp.

yeah. there are some tactical things that need to be fixed, but another issue is the lack of a good #9. lewy is just too old. also, there are basic things we can't do like heading, weighing passes, and just working together. no reason for professional footballers to do that. our players aren't given enough of the blame for what happens in games.

#barca #fc barcelona #footy analysis #lewy #gavi #pedri #xavi #barcelona #football

[yanderes-galore]

Can I get a yandere raymond vester x fem darling scenario where he finds out that darling is leaving the FBC due to severe mental health issues please and he gets upset

Ooo, I haven't played Revelations 1 in forever. I'll see what I got, hopefully it is not too OOC.

One Last Talk

Yandere Raymond Vester Scenario

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Manipulation, Thoughts of kidnapping, Fear of abandonment, Obsession, PTSD.

The reasons for you leaving FBC should not be of anyone's concern. At least that's what you wanted to think. Your reasoning is more private.

The stress of your job was too much. FBC was way too high maintenance. Plus, the organization was not what it seemed. Leaving felt like the best decision.

Not to a certain spy, however.

Raymond Vester was an operative who grew attached to you while you worked for the FBC. You had helped him with Parker during the Terragrigia Panic and had tended to his wounds. Ever since, the ginger headed spy had grown fond of you.

He had an acute awareness of your mental health. Ever since the bioterrorism attack on the floating city he saw how sheltered you became. The attack echoed in your head over and over.

After that, he had a feeling you never wanted to work in this field. While it may be the best for you mentally... Raymond had trouble letting you go.

"Are you doing better today?"

He asks from a doorway, you turning to greet him. You give a deep sigh while shaking your head. Raymond frowns at your obvious display of no.

"No, Raymond... I don't think I'll get any better if I continue working for the FBC."

"Are you going to swap to the BSAA?" Raymond asks. The FBC may not be the best for you, but he knows the BSAA is a better offer for you. Especially since at this time he was a spy for them.

"I was thinking... I just leave this all entirely. Bioterrorism... I can't deal with it anymore."

"You're just going to void your contract?"

"What else am I supposed to do?"

"You're quitting because of your mental health... aren't you?"

He crosses his arms over his blue vest, eyes looking at you intensely. You stare at him in disbelief. How'd he-?

"What makes you say that?"

"I know you."

Raymond stops leaning on the wall and walks closer to you. He stands near you and observes your concerned face. As a spy, he could read you like a book.

"I understand the trauma of Terragrigia is still heavy in your mind. It's been a year and I feel the same. It's just not affecting me as it does you."

He holds your hands in his gloved ones. The contact seems a bit intimate... but you don't pull away. You have no idea he's not FBC anymore and trust him as a dear friend. A trust he is grateful to have....

"Talk to me, don't suffer alone. It may benefit both of us. You may not even have to leave."

"Why do you want me to stay?"

"We're partners. We were assigned to one another. I'd feel lost without my partner, would I not?"

Admittedly, he had Jessica help him get you as a partner instead of Parker. He wanted to be close to you and now such a decision made you friends. Perhaps something more if he pushed for it.

"You could always pair with Jessica, Parker, or even Rachel again-"

"They aren't you... we've been through so much. Shouldn't we stick together?"

"Raymond... I care for you."

His heart tightens when you move your hands to his shoulders. Your expression is sad, however. You were always stubborn....

"Yet I still must go. I won't be of any help here."

"Stay for a little while longer.... It's my final request."

"You know I can't..."

"I know you can."

Raymond's blunt with his reply, eyes holding a stubborn gaze to match your saddened one.

"You wouldn't leave me without one final goodbye, right?"

"You make this so hard...."

"How do you think I feel?"

You look away, departing from him to think to yourself. Raymond allows you your room, internally plotting how this can go. If you're leaving he needs more time- How can he keep you and him together....

"... If it'll keep you happy," You begin, catching Raymond's attention. "I'd like to spend more time with you before I leave."

Raymond feels himself smile. Both at the thought of you caring for him so much and at the fact this gives him time to plan. Perhaps he can make this work.

"I'm glad you're always thinking of me-" Raymond sighs, thinking of when you saved him. "You always think of both my emotional and physical health."

"I just hope you respect mine."

"Of course." He smiles, pulling you closer to him. "You're my partner... up until the end."

Raymond then pats your back before leaving the room.

"I'll make your send off the greatest."

"I look forward to it, Raymond!"

Raymond then leaves the room, thinking to himself.

You'll stay around longer now...

It's just time to devise a way to keep you.

#yandere resident evil #yandere resident evil revelations #yandere raymond vester

[soohaaaleemeee]

This is Bad Billy

Part 4 - Never Want To Say Goodbye

Characters: AU Bill Skarsgård, here called Billy. He's inspired by real life Bill but also the character Clark Olofsson in the Netflix series Clark.

Setting: This story is set in the 60s L.A and a smaller town close to L.A.

Warnings: 18+, historical preferences, mental health problems, mental illness, abuse, drugs, mention about rape, racism.

The time went by and two weeks disappeared with the sunny summer weather. Two weeks of not even hearing about Billy. It was like he hadn't existed at all and I wondered if he left the ward. I had asked the other staff, even Annike but no one had answers to give. I had talked with the male caretaker who attended to Billy a few times. His name was Samuel and was in his fifties. He had gotten to know Billy the last time he was there, two years ago and Billy had taken an interest in him without trying to use him. They played poker together and while Samuel never played for money, Billy did so when Samuel won he got money without having bet any of his own. Billy took an interest in his kids and became a real friend so when Samuel found a hole in the ventilation system he helped Billy with getting some free time outside of the ward. 

Samuel hadn't heard anything about Billy either and it was obvious he was worried but one day when I sat alone on a bench in the staff's yard he came up to me with a stressed expression. He looked around to see who was around us but it was just two young caretakers and he seemed to relax. He knew people would talk if they saw us together too much, a black man in his fifties together with a young white candy striper. When we talked we didn't need an audience. 

"He is still here," he said with a low voice and sat down next to me on the bench. I filled my lungs with air and sat quietly before taking a deep breath. 

"He is in some isolation room in the basement… It seems like the regular staff aren’t the ones giving him care… But several doctors…" 

"Several doctors? Why does he need that?" 

Samuel sighed loudly and gave me a look like he wanted to call me stupid. 

"They aren't giving him health care. They're there for another reason. No one gives Billy care. He has always been here to get punished for being a free, wild soul." 

I felt stupid and nodded. I was the doctor's daughter and was shaped to believe doctors were something bigger and more glorious than other humans. I wanted to believe the doctor's were taking care of Billy even if nothing pointed at that. 

"I've got the assignment to get him ready for the hearing… I guess it means cleaning his wounds," Samuel said as he dragged his hands over his thighs in discomfort. I swallowed hard, because I understood what he meant now. The doctors had probably used him as their personal punching bag. Samuel had said before that many were jealous of Billy for being rich, famous and free. Wanted by women and successful in his field. A field they thought was bad for people. Just like my father believed. 

"When will you do that?" I asked Samuel who lit a cigarette.

"Tomorrow. I'm thinking about trying to smuggle you in so you can say goodbye to him." 

My heart pounded in my chest. I would see him again. Kiss his lips and take in his scent. But it would be to say goodbye. Who knew if we would meet again. 

"What exactly do you think will happen to him?" I asked Samuel while looking down at my white pumps. 

Samuel looked down too, maybe even at my white pumps. 

"There is an institution in north Florida… For special cases. I'm afraid they will place him there… Maybe even throw away the key." 

I couldn't breathe and for a second I wondered if I would die. We didn't say anything more because there wasn't so much more to say, not until Samuel had more information about the next day. He gave me that information at the end of my shift. He told me to come in a bit early the next day to my shift and go to the last room in the hallway without telling any of the nurses that I was there. Just sneak in through the door and go quickly to the last room. I didn't think I would be able to do it, that my nerves would betray me but as a miracle I was finally in the room, seeing Billy's broad bruised back disappear under a white shirt. His breath was strained and he moved with small slow movements. I didn't dare say anything, just watched and analyzed his sore movements and signs of abuse. His neck was full of bruises and he seemed to have a limp. He turned towards me, revealing a face that had wounds and bruises but also red marks near his temples. He smiled handsomely anyway, like he wanted to prove no one had power over him. 

"Hey Joanie…" he said with a strained voice and with a pained expression he tried to stand straight, be that man I had been with the last few weeks. I smiled sadly at him and looked at his naked torso under the unbuttoned shirt. One of his sides was completely blue and he held a hand over it. He had probably broken a rib which made it hard for him to breathe. With glossy eyes I walked closer to him and looked up at him. His eyes had a shine too and I wished I could comfort him in some way but there wasn't anything to say. He leaned down and threaded his fingers through my hair softly and gave me an innocent kiss on the lips. 

"I've given Samuel some numbers you should call. The agent's name is Bruce Anderson." 

I looked at him and didn't have any words. My career was the last thing I thought about then and there. 

"Say that you have got his number from me. Ludwig Joseph is a stylist. He can help you…" He breathed strained and closed his eyes to focus on his breathing. "And Joanie?" He said, opened his eyes and gave me a serious look. "Take the chance. Take this chance because… People will try to hold you back. People will go to great lengths to keep you away from things they don't understand…" I nodded and looked into his eyes. I didn't really know what he meant but I would take the gift he gave me. 

"You must go now," said Samuel behind me. I had forgotten that he stood watch and gave Billy a pained look. I could feel how tears wanted to spill but I held them back. He gave me a small smile and ended our short meeting with a soft kiss on my forehead.  

××× 

The male caretakers pushed Billy through the hallway. One of them was Samuel, playing along, forced to push his friend roughly. Billy was dressed in a black suit. He could have looked just as handsome as he did on his premieres but he looked tired, covered in bruises and with a limp fit for an old man. Nurses and doctors had paused their work to watch him leave the ward. Some looked with interest, other's with disgust. When he went by one of the doctors he received a hard slap over his cheek but he couldn't defend himself because of the handcuffs. I watched it all through tears and continued to look at him walking away through the window. Samuel stood next to me, just like some other staff. We watched other doctors and caretakers take their chance to hit him, people that didn't even work at the ward. One man hit Billy harshly on the side he had his broken rib and Billy stopped in pain and the man spat in his face. It was my father. My elegant, intelligent father. I couldn't even catch the feelings that flew around inside of me and instead I heard myself hyperventilating. Samuel gave me a look of understanding and I watched him carefully. I dried my tears and hoped no one would notice us talking. 

"Please be honest towards me Sam… Did my father have anything to do with this?" I whispered. Samuel looked around worriedly. 

"He told the prosecutor that Billy raped you… I'm really sorry Ms. Woods.. But I can't talk to you…" he whispered. 

I looked around but no one seemed to realize we were talking. 

"Why?" 

"I'm afraid the same thing will happen to me as well…" 

Samuel walked away and I watched his back a second but looked out the window again where Billy was shoved into a car, probably breaking another rib at the same time. The car went away, with the man I loved and left another man smirking behind. My father, pleased with himself that he had destroyed a man's life. 

××× 

July, 1968

The sheets were stuck to my body, stuck from all the sweat dripping off me. It felt like they were tangled around me and tried to trap me in their grip. It was because of the dream. The dream I've had so many times. Billy's face lifeless with his eyes drifting up. His body vibrated from a strong electrical shock, right through his nervous system. They gave him another and another until at last the strongest one caused his mouth to fall open, the bite rail falling out and I could see his tongue spasming. I woke up with a jerk and sat up in bed. The sheets didn't hold me back at all and the room was cool because of the open balcony door. But my body was drenched with sweat and my thin nightgown sat like a second skin over my wet body. I breathed heavily until I felt a calming hand on my back. 

"Are you okay?" Asked my husband who dragged his hand up and down my sticky back. I nodded, like I always did. He was used to me waking up like this from the nightmares but I had never told him what I dreamt. I didn't know how he would react if I told him my dreams were about Billy or the last time I saw my dad. He was such a happy soul and would probably not understand. And that was what I loved about him. My husband Daniel, pronounced Danielle. My French husband. 

"Are you okay?" He asked again with his french accent and tired voice. I breathed deeply and shook my head so the picture of Billy would go away. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Fine." 

"Are you nervous about the trip?" He asked and sat up on his elbow to look at me. He knew how much I didn't like flying and in just a few hours we would be on a flight to L.A. I hadn't been in L.A. in several years and both the trip and being in America again made me nervous. I liked Europe. Loved it even and if it wasn't for my husband's job I wouldn't ever go back there. 

"I am. I wish…" I sighed and so did Daniel because he knew what I wished, that we could just stay there. My husband was an architect and we lived the easy life in Madrid but he had difficulty getting work and felt forced to move where he could find rich customers who wanted futuristic homes, looking like they were sets from a sci-fi movie. His houses were amazing but not for the regular man and Daniel was used to getting a big paycheck. 

"Los Angeles will be amazing. I'm sure of it. You will be able to get jobs there too?" He said, giving me the glass of water I had on my nightstand. I had been a model since I was nineteen thanks to Billy and still did some jobs when I felt like it. I didn't really need to because of Daniel but I did it when I found something fun, like that ad for a mascara that had made my eyes displayed on every bus in America. 

I smiled at him even if the feeling wasn't there. To go back to L.A. felt like a step back in progress. I didn't have anything to do there. It was a ghost town for me. 

Me and Daniel took the plane to L.A. but I missed Europe even before we had left it. I tried to think positively just like Daniel was but I couldn't stop thinking about that stupid little doctor's daughter I had been, naive and easy to fool. I looked at myself in the mirror. I was another person now with a cheeky platinum blonde bob and long fake lashes. My father would have thought I looked like a whore, maybe my mom even more so. I swallowed hard when I thought about her. She had always been happy with my dad even if I now knew what kind of a man he was. I looked at Daniel while he was reading The New York Times. Maybe Daniel wasn't the person I wanted him to be either. 

"All these wars…" Daniel sighed and looked at me. His hair was messy and he had stubble on his chin. He wasn't pretty like other men I had been with but I believed he was a good man. "Americans should just leave Vietnam. I feel with all the men who must give their life to this…" he shook his head. I nodded and thought about if I knew anyone who had lost his life there. I thought about Billy again even if I knew he wasn't there. 

"Americans do all kinds of stupid things. I worked at a psychiatric ward in my late teens and people were awful to those people." 

Daniel put the newspaper down and looked at me seriously. 

"I didn't know you did that," he said and sounded a bit impressed. He hugged my hand that was lying on my thigh and played with my wedding ring. 

"It was only for a few months…" I said and dragged my hand over the soft baby blue fabric of my mini skirt. 

"Still, that's impressive. But they aren't better in France towards mentally ill people but it has become better. They have even let many out because they didn't have a real reason to have them there. Maybe that has happened in the USA too?" 

I turned to him quickly and the eagerness to know more probably made me look angry because Daniel gave me a weird look. 

"You think so?" 

"I think the chance is big, the knowledge about the brain seems to become better every day…" said Daniel with a dreamy voice. 

I wanted to be able to not take his words out of proportion but I couldn't help but wonder what had happened with Billy. I had felt such an awful bad conscience about what had happened to him and knew the only way for me to get it out of my system was to see him happy and free. I’ve had nightmares and anxiety about it all since the day I saw him taken away from the ward and had wondered what had happened to him while I made my life a European dream. Everything was thanks to him while he may even be dead. Killed by an overdose or abuse. I felt the nausea grow and when I puked in my own hands Daniel combed back my hair, believing my nausea was the flight's fault. 

××× 

I had put on a big white hat to accompany my black and white A-line dress. I wanted to look extra stylish, both because I was in L.A. but also because of the person I would meet. I even had a Chanel bag, a gift from Daniel when we celebrated our first wedding anniversary. It was small and black and I usually just carried it when we had a really fancy party to go to but today it was important to really look chic because I would meet Ludwig Joseph. He was a known stylist that had helped me in the beginning of my career thanks to Billy. I knew he would be more open to help me if I looked amazing, like the person he wanted to be around. 

Ludwig Joseph walked up to me at the restaurant dressed from top to toe in white. His hair was longer and he looked almost sexy in his new mustache. 

"Joanzie!" He said, calling me the name I tried to be called as a model. I never really succeeded in getting a nickname. 

"Hey, Ludwig," I said and stood up from my chair in the sun to give him a hug. "You look so good!" I said to flatter him and he gave me a smirk that told me it had worked. 

"You're smart to wear a hat, I don't understand the trend that women should be tanned! They look like old hags, all of them!" 

"The sun kissed style isn't really that trendy in Paris, where I found most of my inspiration," I said and tried to sound just as snobbish as he was. Ludwig looked at me with a stiff smile, maybe he was a bit jealous. 

"So how can I help you Joanzie?" He ordered us two glasses of chardonnay when we had sat down and I could feel by his mannerism that he hoped our meeting would be short. "Is it a modeling job? I'm sorry honey but here, you're too old…" 

"No, no…" I sighed and looked down at my white pumps and thought back to a time I wore white pumps but with a more pointed toe. "I wonder if you know anything about Billy?" I looked up at him with pleading eyes and he looked at me with a snarl. 

"You know I loved Billy. So brooding, quiet and tall. Everything a man should be but… The whole mental institution feels a bit… Last season? He would have felt much more in style if he was in a cult or something. Have you heard of them? The ones who have orgies all the time?" 

I looked at him in perplexed while he bit his thumb nail. 

"I'm joking honey! God, Europe made you lose all your humor." He took a big gulp of his wine and looked at me tiredly. "But I don't know anything about Billy. Sorry to say, but personally I think he is dead. It would be so sad because I did really like him but those places…" Ludwig looked down at his hands and looked sad for real. He swallowed hard and I could see his hands tremble. 

"I had some friends that were placed and died at such places just for being in love." 

××× 

Ludwig gave me another name. A name I never heard of. Landon, a close friend to Billy. He was an actor but from my life in Madrid I had missed him completely. He had even worked with Billy before he was placed in psychiatric care but I must have been so mesmerized by Billy that I missed Landon. 

We met at a park that hadn't existed when I lived in Los Angeles and when I realized who Landon was I became a bit embarrassed. He sat on his suede jacket in the grass puffing a cigarette with long hair and shaggy beard. He was a hippie. I really wanted to be that relaxed, a person who could hang out with anyone but I couldn't understand hippies. Or love people. Free people. Whatever they wanted to call themselves. I took a deep breath and walked up to Landon in the grass even if I had a new pair of Mary Jane's on. The grass was dry and I knew I wouldn't sit down in it in my short chiffon dress and bare legs. Landon smirked at me when I came walking carefully with my leather bag swaying in my hand. 

"So you had a thing with Billy?" Landon said and smirked as he dusted away some tobacco from his jeans. I looked down at him and crossed my arms. 

"Yes." 

Landon nodded a little amused. 

"You're all fancy and shit." 

I cleared my throat and looked at some people walking by. They probably believed I was giving the hobo some money. 

"Can you just say if you know anything about Billy?" 

"You mean Bill? You know that's his name."

I didn't know that. I was sure his full name was William but didn't say anything, why would I confess that to this dirty guy? 

"He's in New York," Landon said, scratching his jaw.

I looked down at Landon with an hopeful expression and my heart started to beat fast. Landon shook his head and realized what I believed. 

"He's in a ward there. A rough place but they let him do much more. I wouldn't be surprised if he had been inside of all the nurses' panties," he said to tease me and I gave him an angry look. 

"I actually just want to help him. I'm married." I said with my nose high. 

"Fancy." He took a drag of his cigarette and I stood and looked at him for a moment. He was irritating but in some way I wasn't surprised Billy was friends with him. He was also a free soul, maybe he even would be a hippie if he was out. Landon looked back at me and then smiled.

"I'm happy someone cares for my boy." 

I smiled a little and dragged with my toe in the yellow grass. 

"I'm happy he has you. That he is your boy. Hopefully I can arrange it so you will have your boy by your side again," I said with a friendly smile. Landon lit up and gave me a broad smile. 

"Really? Really? That would be… So groovy!" 

× 

#bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard #fan fiction #writing #story #bill skarsgård writing #bill skarsgård fanfiction #fiction #clark #landon liboiron