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#you give the comments
ysolt · 7 months
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it's honestly fucked up nobody talks about this. like what were they thinking? are they stupid?
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lastbluetardis · 9 months
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After everyone freaked out over AO3 being down, I hope folks have come to the realization that *authors* are the ones keeping y’all so entertained that the idea of not having your favorite fic to read on demand sent you into a frenzy.
So, y’know, maybe drop a comment on your favorite fic to let the author know you appreciate them and their work 🙂
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thebibliosphere · 5 days
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Whenever I talk about the medical neglect and ableism I've encountered as a victim of the healthcare system, there's always some cockwaffle who feels entitled to come into my inbox and make the argument of "not all doctors" while talking about how "people like them" (because it's always someone in a field of medicine who does this) are doing their best and it's really hard because so many people fake being ill to get on welfare (Yikes), but like, yeah, obviously #not all doctors, because if all doctors were negligent, bullying scum bags, I'd be dead.
But here's the thing: while I truly believe that the majority of doctors are doing their best in a system stacked against them and their patients, their presence does not negate the mass harm caused by the bad ones. And there are far more bad ones than you realize.
Fuck, John Oliver literally did a segment on this last week:
youtube
Yes, the truly bad, malicious doctors are in the minority. Most are just horrifically burned out and fighting a losing battle against a system, killing both them and their patients through a lack of funding and resources and profound overwork.
But the malicious ones do exist, and they will go out of their way to harm patients who don't kowtow to them.
I almost lost my life because when I was in my early twenties, I told a doctor I didn't think she was listening to me, and I disagreed with her assessment of my mental health (she was not a mental health doctor, and I was there for heart palpitations and chronic pain). She retaliated by putting "non-compliant" in my file.
There was also a fun little "doesn't show respect" note too that lives rent-free in my head because I know I wasn't rude. I was polite. I just didn't agree with her, and my refusal to accept her off-handed comment that "you probably have bipolar or BPD" (again, I was there for heart palpitations and chronic pain) meant I was "refusing care."
I wasn't. I just refused to be slapped with a mood/personality disorder when I was there because I kept fucking fainting when I stood up.
(Spoiler alert: it was dysautonomia)
That "non-compliant" marker followed me around for years. It followed me across an ocean and effectively ensured that any doctor I saw was going to treat me like absolute dogshit because no one wants to help Difficult Patients. It wasn't until I was so undeniably ill, literally on the brink of death, that anyone helped me.
I'm alive because of a good doctor. And all the good ones that came after him because of him.
So, I know they exist. You don't have to tell me that.
But I really fucking need you to acknowledge the bad ones and that you're part of a system with a long, long history of abusing minorities and vulnerable people. I need you to acknowledge that because it's the only way we're going to survive this godforsaken nightmare and make things better.
So yeah, #notalldoctors, but if you feel the need to say that because someone talking about being literally left to die by the medical system hurts your feelings, I'm going to have to ask you to take a step back and ask yourself if you're going into medicine for the right reasons.
Namely: do you want to help people, even the "difficult" ones?
Even the ones who might disagree with you?
Even if they're on welfare?
Even if they'll never get "better" in a way that means "cured"?
Just a thought. But hey, what do I know. I'm just someone who experienced hemolytic anemia because doctors kept telling me I was anxious and needed to exercise more 🤷‍♀️.
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somnimagus · 4 months
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My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.
[id in alt text]
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bixels · 22 days
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I watched Starship Troopers tonight.
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mossmx · 10 months
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While Merlin is trending I want to thank the whole Merlin fandom
people who have been with us since 2008 and people who have just started watching, people who have left us too soon but will be forever in our hearts and people who switched fandoms but are still amazing
whereter you create, lurk, cheer or just cry in the corner (most of us have been there lol) every part of the Merlin fandom is always part of our family
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even if we have no reason to trend we will always have a reason to celebrate :D
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dandelionmeadow · 2 months
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The people have spoken and they said this guy’s worth more than 500 gold so here’s the sequel to the wanted poster 😝
part 1 | part 2
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@gautiersylvain @soldier-poet-king @vole-mon-amour @blackrose2890 @grandpasauce @starionstation
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torosdottir · 3 months
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it is funny that some women will be like 'i have to wear makeup and impractical feminine clothing and shave my legs because of Society' and they will say this to a woman who does not wear makeup or impractical feminine clothing or shave their legs and has clearly somehow survived so like. what now
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withdenim · 2 months
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Furry on furry yearning, that’s my jam
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yukipri · 1 month
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💙❤️Happy Valentine's Day!❤️💙
This year, decided to do a set!
"Spice" - Alpha-17 x Obi-Wan
"Sugar" - Fordo x Obi-Wan
Do you prefer your romance to be Sweet❤️ or Spicy💙?
~~
PLEASE DO NOT REUPLOAD, EDIT, TRANSLATE, OR OTHERWISE USE MY ART. To share, please reblog! Reblogs and comments greatly appreciated!!!
❀ You can see the rest of my art through the Masterpost pinned to the top of my blog!
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whatsitzface · 4 months
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Fuck every percy jackson "fan" who is still complaining about percy & annabeths HAIR COLOURS being different then in the books. I hope Nico is blonde so that all of you cry and scream like fucking toddlers
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 4 months
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i wanna know more about svsss menopause
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They synced their periods together too well. Now they are synced through their perimenopause years.
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kristalijah · 6 months
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HE'S CHECKING OUT GARY!!!! I REPEAT, HE'S CHECKING OUT GARY!!!!
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sergle · 6 months
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also I consented for my doc to use photos / video footage of my reduction on social media and shit and he's ALREADY posted my before/after photos on his instagram. and I'm experiencing an emotion unknown to mankind, reading a bunch of insta comments about how great the results are and how wonderful the new boobs look
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tizzypizza · 5 months
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TEAM ZOMBIE WE MOVE!!!
the squeakquel… apparently i made the og exactly this day last year (i’m not gonna reblog it so here it is)
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flowercrowngods · 10 months
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@steddie-week
part 1 (bc this is one big 7 part story)
day 02: bittersweet & angst
1 new message
eddie The Problem munson: engagement party on saturday babyyyy 🥳🥸🕺
Steve’s been staring at the message for two days now. It's sitting in his notifications, staring at him like a painful reminder of what happened exactly seven days ago. A week. It's only been a week, and Steve somehow it feels like it was both only one day or seven months ago.
It's an almost liminal experience, walking through life without texting Eddie every second of the day – because texting him would mean opening his message. It would make this real.
And that's the last thing Steve wants.
"I'm not going," Robin declares as they're cuddling on the couch, wallowing in their misery as Mayday Parade's Oh Well, Oh Well is playing for the eighth time on repeat. "Tell me you're not going, Stevie."
"Robbie," he sighs, squeezing her tighter as she tries to wriggle out of his arms to glare at him.
"Steve."
"I can't not go."
"Yes you can." She pokes him in the ribs, but he doesn't budge. She pokes him again. "Not going to things is literally the easiest thing in the world. It's a hundred times easier than going to things. You should try it sometime, trust me. You go to too many things, and–"
"Bee," he hums to get her out of the rambling spiral before she can get lost in it.
"What I'm saying," he interrupts herself dramatically, "is that you can't do this to yourself. They're engaged. They're getting married. We're going to keep our distance until our brains and hearts and the traitorous little chemicals in our bodies catch up to reality, and then we get over them, and then we can go back and see them ever again. That's the logical thing to do, Steve. But you can't... You can't just go and get your heart broken and talk yourself into thinking it's the right thing to do. It's not."
Steve sighs into her hair and buries his face in her neck. He knows that. Technically, logically, he does.
But not going feels wrong. Wronger than anything else that's been hollowing out his chest and leaving nothing but emptiness and the ghosts of every smile, every touch, every baby, love, sweetheart, sunshine. Every imaginary future, every scenario where Eddie meant it. Meant those words, meant those smiles, meant it when he took Steve's hand to hold it.
But Eddie did mean it. Every time, he meant it; because he calls Argyle and Jeff and Gareth baby and sunshine and sweetheart, too. He takes their hands, too, leans in to kiss their cheeks and just holds them when he needs to. That's just the kind of person Eddie is. Always has been.
To go and assume he never meant it would be unfair.
To go and hope it could ever mean more when Chrissy has always been right there would just be stupid.
Well, good thing Steve has that kind of reputation with a few people anyway, so it's not even a statistical outlier, that one. It's not even worth a side note.
"I know," he rasps, his eyes beginning to sting as the next lyrics are carved into the empty space of where his heart used to be.
Oh well, oh well I can't live with myself As I'm climbing in your window to get to your bed.
And I'll be what you need, You can call me anything. Just as long as we're still friends.
Tears prickle in his eyes and he doesn't bother to hold them back. Not now, not with Robin. They've both been crying on and off all week, even though Robin took it better than him.
"I know," he sobs, wrapping his arms around her even tighter as she lets herself be held because she knows that's what he needs. "I know, I know, I know. But I have to. I can't just... I can't just stop, Bee."
"I know," she sighs, climbing out of his hold eventually to wrap her arms around him in return as he cries into her shoulder.
The world (read: his Spotify playlist) makes it worse by playing Sum 41's With Me next, ripping out even the newly carved words.
Robin holds him for the rest of the night, even as he finally opens Eddie's message and types out a reply.
—I'll come!
And especially when there's a new message immediately.
—hot 🥵❤️
He leaves Eddie on read after that.
~*~
Saturday rolls around in a haze, and suddenly Steve finds himself looking at the front door of the little house Chrissy inherited after her mother passed a few years ago. It's a nice little house. Quaint. Perfect. Everything Steve could ever dream of, actually. And she deserves it. All of this and more.
There's noise coming from the garden, where people are laughing and having a great time. A happy time, celebrating their friends and all the good things in life that come with a love well placed.
God, what is he doing here? He can't do this. There is no way.
He's just about to pull out his phone and call Robin, tell her he's coming home, or ask her to tell him everything's gonna be alright, when–
"Steve!" Chrissy hurries towards him, throwing her arms around him in a tight, warm, perfect hug. God, he loves her so much. He melts right into the embrace, wrapping his arms around her middle to spin her around with a grin.
She giggles in delight and tells him to let her down again, which only makes him spin for another round, his grin turning into a genuine laugh.
"No, I hate you!" she laughs, but still doesn't step away from him when he puts her down again. Instead, she leans up and brushes a kiss to his cheek. "Hi, asshole."
"Hi."
He grins and takes her hands in his, just smiling at her for another moment before his eyes trail down to a ring he's never seen her wear before. Ah. Right.
"Oh shit! That it?"
"That's it," Chrissy says, looking down at her hand to look at the ring with a fond, happy little smile, her cheeks flushing red. It breaks Steve a little, but it also fixes something inside him to see her so truly, genuinely happy. "Pretty huh?"
"Very," Steve breathes, hiding the lump in his throat with a sound of awe.
Chrissy hugs him again for good measure and then takes his hand to drag him into the backyard the same way she just came out front, through a little gate off to the side instead of through the house.
Steve loves their backyard because it's always covered in sheerly endless colourful strings of light that are wrapped around decorative arches or poles, framing the back doors and the canopy swing set on the lawn, and just give it the most homey and comfortable atmosphere.
"Stevie!" Eddie exclaims immediately and jumps off from his chair, interrupting a conversation he's apparently been having with Argyle and Nancy to run up to him with such a giddy expression that Steve wants to cry. His heart leaps in his chest, coming back to life and saying one last goodbye at the same time.
"Hi," he says, hugging Eddie close before he can so much as think about what he's doing. But no matter how hurt he is, there will never be a world in which he won't want to hug Eddie Munson. "Sorry I'm late."
"No sorries, it's fine," Eddie murmurs into his neck, staying in the embrace endlessly, and Steve takes the chance to breathe him in. He smells so good. So, so good. It clogs his lungs and renders him unable to speak.
But who needs to speak when they have Eddie in their arms? Who needs to speak when all they have to do is never let go?
Eddie squeezes him a little tighter, and Steve wants to cry. He slowly, gently pushes away from the hug and turns towards the other guests, greeting them with a grin, a hug, or a handshake if they're not familiar.
When he gets to Wayne, the man eyes him with a look that Steve doesn't want to read too much, and his embrace is just a little longer, just a little stronger than usual.
“You look tired, son,” he says by way of greeting, and Steve can’t help but snort and shake his head a little.
“Good to see you again, too, old man.”
Wayne eyes him for one moment longer, then breaks into a small smile and pats Steve’s shoulder before stepping around him to go grab another drink.
After that, the night passes in a blur of talking to his friends, trying to understand what the hell it is that has Nancy and Argyle arguing so profusely, but with smiles on their faces. He fails. But it’s good to see them again, so he just basks in it for a while.
Or, he tries, because every second that he’s not talking or listening to someone, his eyes flick back to Eddie. Eddie, who’s lifting Chrissy from behind and smacking a loud, wet kiss to her neck, her jaw and her cheek, accompanied by her delighted squeals and laughter.
Eddie, who’s looking larger than life, a happy grin permanently plastered on his face as he reminds their guests that Chrissy was his bisexual awakening.
“I swear, she just swept me off my feet after years of thinking I was only into dudes. Knew I had to marry her, but man, I don’t know why she said yes.”
“I’m settling, honey,” Chrissy calls from the other end of the table they’re sitting around. “Only in it for that rockstar money and all.”
The whole table laughs at that.
“Hear, hear,” Eddie snorts, lifting his glass in a toast. Steve and the others lift theirs, too, even though Steve’s hand and arm and whole body feels numb and he’s not entirely sure he’s breathing.
A while later, he grabs a drink and retreats to the canopy swing, illuminated in the soft pink flow of the fairy lights wrapped around it. Eddie’s eyes land on him for a second and Steve thinks that he’ll come over and join him — but then one of Chrissy’s friends says something that distracts him and seemingly makes him fall into a monologue of sorts.
Steve watches, feeling only loss and longing as he does. Eddie is a force of nature. A spectacle. Something beautiful, something powerful, something secret that only a select few get to witness. To know. To appreciate.
Staring as he is, blind to the rest of the world, he startles a little when the swing jostles with another weight settling on it. He didn’t see Wayne coming to join him, and he’s not quite sure whether he should be grateful for the company or apprehensive of what the man who’s like a father to him might have to say.
“How are you doing, son?”
He frowns. “I’m alright.”
Wayne only hums, and Steve’s frown deepens. There’s a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that tells him Wayne knows something. That he knows.
“Y’know,” he continues after a while, not looking at Steve but rather at his nephew and his fiancée. “I always figured it would be you.”
Steve crumbles. Yeah, me too, he wants to say, but that would be a lie. Watching the way Chrissy sits on Eddie’s lap with his arms around her, his chin on her shoulder as he tells her something that makes her laugh that cute, pretty, adorable laugh that Eddie then can’t help but join — that’s just something Steve would never compare to. Nothing he’d ever want to come in between.
Eddie and Chrissy are perfect. They’re happy. They fit, they match, they work. They worked so hard and treat each other so right.
They look giddy and serene at the same time, and it makes Steve’s eyes sting. Because he can never make Eddie look like that. He can never make Eddie look at him like that.
I always figured it would be you.
But he couldn’t. That bubbly kind of love, the sunshine kind of love. He knows that’s not for him. Steve’s too much for that. He would never be enough for Eddie — even if without Eddie, there’s nothing left of him.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Wayne continues, unaware of Steve’s thought spiral. “I love that girl, I do. Always will. I think she’s too good for Eddie. Don’t tell him I said that,” he adds hastily, and Steve smiles through the tears that threaten to fall again.
“They’re perfect,” he rasps, laughing wetly as Chrissy starts chasing Eddie, who’s hiding behind a very distressed Argyle, who just wants his brochachos to chill!
Maybe it’s a laugh, maybe it’s a sob. He doesn’t have it in him to find out or care.
“They are. Doesn’t mean they’re right, son.”
Steve sighs and tears his eyes away from Eddie. “Wayne.”
“I know, I know.” He lifts his hands in defence. “Shutting up.” After a long pause of holding Steve’s eyes, he asks, “Will you be okay?”
No, he thinks immediately, the lump in his throat too big to say anything. So he just shrugs and swallows. “Sure.”
Maybe. Hardly. Probably not. Definitely not.
"No matter what happens, you'll always be a son to me. You’ll always have a home with an open door with me, you hear me?"
"I’m not going anywhere, wayne," Steve says, though for the first time ever he doesn't really believe that. Maybe he needs to leave. To leave Eddie behind. Get over him. Cut out his heart and leave it here, run away to heal somewhere else, come back as a new person, or just stay away forever.
The thought makes a tear spill as an empty kind of desperation spreads it’s ugly wings inside his chest, and he's too frozen to wipe it away.
"You hear me?" Wayne repeats, gentler this time, but no less urgent for it.
"Yeah," steve rasps. "Thanks."
Another tear falls as Eddie gently pulls Chrissy closer to him and kisses her in the soft glow of the fairy lights above and around them. Their friends cheer. Steve wants to cry his heart out again.
“I—“ he swallows, wiping at his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. I can’t do this, he wants to say. For the first time, that’s what he wants to say. “I think I’m gonna head home soon.”
“You bring your car?”
He shakes his head, feeling foggy and dazed and empty and endlessly, endlessly sad. “Was gonna, uh—“
“Let me drive you.” There’s no room for debate or argument there, and Steve wants to crumble again, but still he shakes his head.
“Wayne, no—“
“I’m taking you, son. Make sure you get home safe, or I won’t be able to sleep tonight. Don’t wanna keep your old man up all night, do ya?”
Steve concedes with a fond eye roll and a grateful smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“That’s what I thought.”
They sit like that for another ten minutes — and if Steve leans into Wayne’s side a little, then that’s nobody’s business but theirs.
The car ride is quiet, but it feels weighted even as Wayne pretends not to see the way Steve keeps wiping at his cheeks as the silent tears keep falling, leaving him powerless to stop them.
I can’t do this, he keeps thinking over and over again.
“Just a little warning,” Wayne speaks up again as he pulls up to Steve’s building. “I think he’s going to ask you to be his best man, Stevie. Don’t do anything you’re not ready for, okay?”
I can’t do this.
He nods, numb again.
“I’ll do anything for him,” he breathes.
“That’s what I’m afraid of, yeah.”
He gets out of the car before he can find out what exactly Wayne means by that. The car stays where it is until the front door closes behind him, until he’s up in his bedroom and finds Robin already asleep.
Ten minutes later, he cuddles close to her and tries hard not to cry, but tonight’s memories have burned themselves into his mind. And he shouldn’t have gone. He knows. He knows.
I’ll do anything. I can’t do this. I’ll do anything. I can’t do this.
He can’t breathe, and Robin holds him through it, whispering sleepily to him as he cries himself to sleep, wishing for a world where he’s not absolutely and utterly in love with Eddie Munson, but failing to imagine one.
I’ll do anything. Anything but this.
tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen come back tomorrow for idk which prompt | read part 3 here
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