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#at least theres doctor who specials

im-the-queen-of-stardust · 5 months

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Sick and twisted that some Christmas specials are regeneration episodes. Because I watch the specials to get into the Christmas spirit but I have to hype myself up emotionally to watch the ones where the Doctor regenerates. I guess I could just not watch them but I still like them! They just break my hearts.

#but i wont watch end of time again i think #already watched that last month for my doctor who rewatch #and like theres only so much david tennant regenerating i can take in a certain time frame #today will be hard enough #have i mentioned im not ready?#at least jodies is not a christmas special #not gonna lie missed those during her run but at least that means i dont have to go through that in the christmas time #doctor who

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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martyrlamb · 7 months

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✶ when the clock strikes / leon kennedy

pairing: leon kennedy x gn!reader

summary: you’re starting to think a certain agent might be faking his injuries to see you.

tags: sfw, pure fluff, a bit of angst as a treat, love at first sight basically, silly workplace love story, nurse!reader, 1 year post re4r!leon, no use of y/n, extremely mildly passively suggestive, leon takes his shirt off twice (woohoo!), kissing, swearing, leon is awkward as hell, you are too though so it’s okay, description of bruises, cuts and a muscle knot (not detailed), medical talk, slight mention of gore and blood, reader has a backstory, reader has a mother.

note: i blinked and suddenly there were 8k words in my doc idek how that happened. im actually so nervous to post because this is my first one shot ever!! my cherry has been popped… but also apologies if things are kind of all over the place bc im still trying to get the swing of it all. trying to write in the present tense was like being beat over the head repeatedly so im sure theres many grammatical mistakes in that department

word count: 8.5k (got possessed sorry)

Everyone thought you were crazy when you accepted the offer.

It is crazy—but you aren’t stupid. You knew what you were getting into a long time ago as a nurse; people get hurt, and then you save them. Clockwork.

Years ago, you started studying to be a nurse in some middle of nowhere midwestern school. You remembered the rolling hills and the ungodly heavy blankets of snow that fell during the winter months, the fallen leaves that the snow covered. It was all so peaceful for a while… until the outbreak.

You never saw it coming, no one did, really. At least, you hope no one predicted the atrocities that were about to be witnessed by thousands of innocents without warning.

Gnashing teeth and hands with dried blood that streaked down arms like veins plagued the memory of that point in your life. It was surreal to believe that you got up that morning and made your breakfast like any other day, you slid your shoes on and grabbed your keys, and then your foot hit the front porch and the trajectory of your life changed permanently.

The virus started as a woman with red-ringed eyes and pallid skin that reflected off of the blinding overhead lights—she looked visibly ill. That’s all that mattered at the time. You were actually the one who situated her and her husband in their room, he smiled at you and thanked you for your time and you scribbled down notes before hanging the clipboard and leaving the room for the doctor. The screeching horror music plays when you get to this part of the memory.

A type of calm before the storm. You hold your breath every time.

A few hours later people started screaming, and someone—something ran out of that room and wrenched its grip on the first person it saw. Blue scrubs dyed a nasty crimson, like crushed raspberries on cloth. The next part is a blur of running, watching your coworkers die, and using your medical expertise to help anyone who needed it. People were hurt. You saved them.

Like you said, clockwork. You try not to think about it too hard.

By the time help came, you had cramped a large handful of survivors—albeit, injured survivors—into a small house that was a mile or two from the hospital. Your quick thinking protected many people that day, and your skills were recognized.

A week prior, you were a simple nursing student who was lucky enough to be placed in a hospital, and by the next Sunday, you were being offered a position as a medic with the Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team. You finished your schooling, you got your specialized training, and now you’re on your way to your first assignment out of the country.

So, granted, maybe you are a little crazy for accepting such a prestigious and dangerous position after your humble beginnings. Your mother never ceases to remind you of this, with what little information you were allowed to tell her.

Iceland? she said, pulling her lips into a line. Are you crazy?

You begin to think that you are now that you stand in front of the base, arms tucked around yourself and teeth chattering as a sergeant points you around like one of his troops. Between the hustle and bustle of agents hurrying around and the amount of civilians sitting beneath the large, brown medical tent, you understand why they needed all the help they could get.

Things in Iceland were bad apparently; Umbrella thought the remote location would protect what little was left of them, and their research, from being exposed. Unfortunately for them, (and fortunately for everyone else) the AUPIT caught wind of what was happening and vowed to put a stop to it. You, freshly out of training, were sent to help with the sudden influx of displaced non-combatants and wounded agents.

Within the hour of the helicopter landing, you settle in and pull your cold weather scrubs on.

There aren’t many other nurses—only two—and neither of them seem to be very fond of you. The head nurse is older and straight-laced, following procedure, not mingling with you unless she has to. You don’t think you’re ever going to be put on a shift with the other nurse, but they spare you a few ireful glances. It’s like they could smell the fresh blood, and the scent made them turn their noses.

Nonetheless, you weren’t there to socialize, so you rolled up your sleeves and did your job, trying to ignore the passive aggressive looks being thrown at you from left and right. This kind of mutual ignorance worked for about three days, until you were placed on the night shift… every single night.

Before you came along, it was determined that the night shift could be manned by one person, as injured civilians were sent to the safehouses by nightfall and nearly all of the agents were either out on work or taking a much needed rest. There was no reason for both nurses to be awake when one could conserve their energy and rest while the other worked. So, most nights you spent alone, sitting by the fire in the back of the tent as you waited for the sun to come up.

One of those nights crept up on you again. You bounce your foot against the ground until your ankle aches, sitting in a lawn chair next to the fire with a wool blanket draped over your shoulders. Nothing chirps in the distance like the environment you’re used to, the only noises that float through the air are the wind rustling bare-armed bushes and your own breathing. There was a rip in the tent whistling, too, but you’d be damned if you let the incessant noise drive you insane. You were scared of the eerie silence for the first few days, but that quickly became replaced by the complete boredom that followed it.

You blow a raspberry as you spin a pen in your ungloved hand, fingers numb and stretched stiff with cold. I’ve ought to ask someone for a book, you thought to yourself, or a new job. You immediately push the second contemplation out of your head like it was something dirty and sat up a little straighter; your annoyance made sense, but this is what you wanted to do with your life. You want to help people in need.

Not that there were many people around.

In the distance, like divine intervention, you hear the crackle of wheels against snow, and a black mini-van rolls to a stop in front of the tent. A scuffle inside ensues for a moment, then the doors open and a man comes hobbling into the shelter with his arm over another man’s shoulder.

You nearly fall out of your seat with how fast you stand up and stride over to the men, assisting the injured one onto a cot.

“What happened?” you ask, pushing a cart of equipment to his bedside.

The uninjured one remarks from beside you, “Some snow gave way and he went down this hill with some pretty nasty bushes at the bottom.” His voice is quick and clicky. He looks young.

Clearly, they’re two agents, judging by the leather holsters strapped around their waists and shoulders. You purse your lips and place a lantern on the cart, gently inspecting the injured agent. There’s thorns lodged along the entirety of his left side, looking a bit like a child’s crude attempt at art with toothpicks and styrofoam.

He grunts when you gently lift his arm to check underneath, and you mutter an apology before you turn to the other agent. “I can take this from here.”

The agent nods and spins on his heel, disappearing into the darkness once he stepped out into the open air.

You turn your attention towards the man in front of you and pull on a pair of gloves, the latex makes a sharp snapping noise when you let go. His intense gaze follows your movements with great intrigue—or suspicion… you couldn’t really tell. You pick up a pair of tweezers and set them on the cart. You also finally got a good look at the wounded agent.

Blue eyes that strike down what little defenses you have and brows that spend their time permanently creased, almost erasing the space between them while he inspects you. His ability to make you feel thoroughly grilled with a simple fixated stare would have made you squirm years prior, but now you merely stare back with your eyebrows lifted. The blonde—possibly light brown haired, the darkness didn’t give much way in the form of colour—man averts his eyes first, as if he is caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive, but that’s not your focus right now.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, flicking on a flashlight to check his pupils. Healthy, good. He squints at you through the beam.

“Like I fell into a thorn bush.”

Looks like someone feels funny. You deadpan at him, unamused with the sarcasm while you try to help. Your expression beckons a better answer and he backpedals.

The man’s head bobs subtly, like a scale in his mind is weighing his thoughts on either side, and then he says, “I’m just fine.”

“Are you dizzy? Nauseous?”

“Fine.”

“Okay,” you reply, blowing out a not-so-inconspicuous huff of annoyed air that swirls above you in the cold. The agent raises his brow at your reaction but doesn’t seem too keen on speaking on it. “I’ll try to be as gentle as I can, but it’s going to be a lot of poking and prodding.”

He lets out another grunt that could have possibly been an Mhm… but you aren’t sure. You hold the tweezers between your fingers and begin to pluck them out, placing them on the metal pan on your cart. Clink, clink, clink. They fall from the tweezers with tiny noises.

To your surprise, he doesn’t writhe or make much noise, only occasional grunts and sighs and Shit’s under his breath when you pull at particularly deep thorns lodged in his arm.

Even for an agent, his arms are an impressive size, which means a lot more surface area to extract from. Not that you really mind, as you would have helped him either way, but surely you would feel differently if you were in his shoes.

However, the silence is… awkward; sitting there with your face inches from his huge arms—he could definitely feel your breath fan across the surface with how his skin dances with warmth and goosebumps and you do not want the attractive agent to focus on that. So, you break it with a question.

“You weren’t wearing a jacket?” A valid query, all things considered.

He blinks at you like it was obvious. “It came off.”

“Oh,” is all you say until you extract the last thorn from his arm and begin to slide the leather shoulder holster off of him. “I just need to take this off.”

He frowns slightly, and you realize his brows had been furrowed this whole time because that was all his face seemed to know how to do. When his expression changes, you stop.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Taking it off so I can look under your sleeve.”

“Why?”

“You could’ve pulled something and I need to bandage you,” you pause. “Is that okay?”

Maybe you wrongly assumed that he had done this a million times. Don’t get you wrong, you know how resilient agents had to be and how good they were at their jobs, so it isn’t like you thought he got hurt often… But with a short glance into his eyes, you could tell he’s a hardened delegate with years of experience under his belt. Wasn’t he bound to need help occasionally?

The man gives you a slight nod and shrugs off the holster; it falls to the bed with a soft thud from the weight of the knife tucked into the leather.

His muscles tense under your fingers when you roll the black sleeve over his shoulder. The feathered, pale edge of a bullet scar peeks out from beneath the dark clothing and it makes you wonder how he managed to get it. A mission? Probably. It looks old. You’ve seen scars of all kinds at that point, and each of them held a story that ended in pierced flesh.

They remind you that they will never not be where they came from—your own scars will never not be where they came from. You shake the thought out like a stubborn rock in your shoe.

“Lucky you, it doesn’t look like you pulled anything in your shoulder,” you comment under your breath.

“If this is luck, I’d like to see what happens when I get unlucky.” For the first time, there’s humor in his tone—so faint you nearly miss it, but it makes you chuckle. When he isn’t huffing out responses, his voice almost sounds kind.

You rotate his shoulder slowly and inspect the length of his side, finding fewer thorns than the amount anchored in his arm. Still, your lips press into a line, pitying the fact that his bare skin will be exposed to the frigid, below-freezing air so you could remove them.

“Well, you should’ve knocked on wood,” you reply, “I’ll need you to take your shirt off so I can get the rest of the thorns out and check your ribs.”

Silently, the man hikes his shirt up and over his ribs for you, snaking his arm out of his sleeve and then laying on his side.

As he comes down, stretching, he groans. You see his muscles tense under his skin when he inhales, the dips and divots of his torso flex involuntarily when the squall of air nips at his newly exposed skin. The surface holds blossoms of red and deep purple that litter themselves across his ribs like splotches of messy watercolor dripped onto paper. Scarlet scratches bleed pebbles that drip onto the fabric of the cot.

You suck in through your teeth as you inspect the area. Even without the damage from the thorns, it doesn’t look good.

“Not good?” the agent questions as if he could read your mind. From over his shoulder, he turna his head to look at you.

“Not good. You bruised your ribs, I’d be surprised if one of them wasn’t broken.”

“I didn’t hear a crack.”

“It should be monitored for a day or two, at the very least.”

“I have to get back to work.”

“Look, I understand—“

“I’ll be fine.”

You sigh softly and remove one of your gloves to rub your face in exasperation. Unfortunately, this wasn’t your first rodeo with stubborn patients, so you slide on another glove and begin to pluck at the thorns in his torso. “You won’t be doing much work if you permanently damage them.”

He twists his head away from you again and grunts softly, muttering a short, “Okay.”

How articulate. You guess he doesn’t get paid to talk to people.

“Okay? As in…?”

“As in, fine,” he replies, then pauses for a moment as if to prove a point. “But I’m sure you have better things to do.”

You laugh at this, then stifle it into your elbow so he didn’t think you were laughing at him. He still rolls over a little to look at you, confusion laces his eyes that dart around as they go from your face to the rows of empty cots behind you. Busy? You begin to laugh again.

He can’t be serious, you think as you fan your face. You let your laughter dissipate like it was being dissolved into water. “Sorry… no, you’re right,” you snort, “I was drowning in work before you arrived, agent.”

“I’m sure,” he chirps back, the ghost of a smile haunts his lips.

“I think I can squeeze you in, though. Might have to clear some of my schedule, but… I’ll make it work.”

The pleased look that graces your face is involuntary. You find it endearing how worried he is about becoming too much extra work for you and the other nurses, despite the fact that there isn’t any reason to gather that he would and—believe it or not—it’s your job.

The agent lets out an amused breath through his nose. “Should I be flattered?”

“Oh, of course.”

You place the last of the thorns onto the metal pan and tend to his wounds with gauze and bandages and nimble fingers that have done this hundreds of times before. Sometime along the way his body relaxed—just a little—and you think he fell asleep until he sits up like a puppet that had his strings yanked and puts his shirt on properly.

The sudden movement makes you blink, and he stares at you for a long pause filled with dead air and an expectant look in his eyes. That damn rip in the tent whistles.

Finally, his eyes flicker down to your badge, then back to your face. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“I started here not too long ago,” you inform him honestly, a little embarrassed to admit your newbie title to a seasoned employee of the organization.

He doesn’t say anything else, so you take the reins.

“Well, I think we’re set,” you say, rolling the latex gloves off of your hands. “Let me know if you need anything, Agent…”

You never asked him his name?

“Leon Kennedy,” the agent, now with the name Leon Kennedy pinned to his face, finishes for you.

His name twirls around your head and makes you dizzy to think about. I should have known, you think to yourself once he bids you farewell to report to his superiors.

From what little time you spent at the base prior to meeting Leon, you had heard whispers during dinner drift from mouth to ear of the elusive agent. That he was a man of few words (immense understatement, you consider it more socially awkward, but true); that he had half of the base swooning every time he walked by (you don’t want to comment on this); and that he was immensely attractive (that is also true). You have to admit… you see why he had such an air of intrigue around him. To be so quiet after such successes he’s accomplished—people were on the edge of their seats trying to figure him out.

You also had to admit that you weren’t immune to it either.

During your meals and breaks you found yourself playing Where’s Waldo? with Leon, attempting to catch glimpses of him in his natural state to confirm or deny these claims. Which was impressively difficult for absolutely no reason other than that he did it for his own benefit… the motive for this was lost, and still is, on you.

The few times you did spot him, he had the same clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows. He never stayed in the same place for very long and frequently you only spotted him—or rather, his broad shoulders and white-knuckled fists as they turned corners and disappeared to do whatever he did all day. Important agent things.

Regarding your coworkers… it hadn’t improved much, either. The head nurse, who you later learned was named Winona, loosened up on you a bit—which was practically nothing when both she and the other nurse had been so cold to begin with. However, your determination to help those around you seemed to impress her… most days.

(Peeks of Leon’s ashy blonde hair stolen from cracks in the tent. His fur-lined coat hangs off of his sizable frame, enveloping his arms in the thick fabric—it makes them look even bigger. Not that you care, per say, but—

“You aren’t getting paid to stalk agents,” Winona jeers, jolting you back to Earth from your subject of stolen attention. You swear she smiles at you wryly. “Should’ve tried for one of their jobs if you wanted to do that.”

She turns on her heel and goes over to a trio of injured civilians with her cart, the knot of hair tied taut at the base of her neck stares you in the face. You’re left hot faced and embarrassed for the entirety of the next check-up with your patient.)

The endless night shifts never seem to cease rolling in and you’re afraid it’s begun to catch up on you. By the end of breakfast, when you could finally drag your corpse-like body to your quarters and into your bed, your head drooped comically into your bowl of oatmeal and some of the newer agents had a blast laughing at you. Whatever, assholes.

(You were deeply embarrassed.)

So, you opted for allowing a short nap in here and there during your shift—ten minutes at most—whenever your eyelids began to feel itchy and weighted and you couldn’t help but close them. You really couldn’t. Being sat by the fire with a hot drink made you so warm and the sounds of blowing wind lulled you to sleep in the darkness under the moon.

Truly, a terrible work performance from you, but no one was around to see and surely you’d be awoken by even a hint of an emergency.

Tonight, you count sheep with your wool blanket tucked up to your chin and your head lolls against your shoulder like it’s about to fall off its hinges. One, two, three. They mock you as they hop into their pasture and curl up into white, fluffy spheres, falling asleep within the warmth of their home.

From a distance, your ears almost register the sound of footsteps that approach the tent, crushing the crunchy top layer of snow under their feet as they stop in the entrance. It isn’t enough to completely wake you until they clear their throat and say, “Hello?”

Your eyes snap open and you turn your head so fast you think it might go flying across the room. Really smooth of you, considering Leon is the one to get your attention. By the smug look on his face and slight chuckle that wracks his frame, you know he isn’t fooled with your act awake performance.

He stands there, towering and rigid, unlike the night you first met him, with his palm outstretched flat like he’s trying to show the world something.

“Oh, hey, what do you need?” you reply quickly, standing from your chair as you let your blanket fall off of you.

Leon glances at his hand and then at you. “I, uh, got a papercut.”

“A paper cut,” you repeat, just to make sure you heard him right.

“Yeah.”

You stare at him for a moment, mouth agape as his words register as something he was actually saying to you.

“Well, get comfortable, then. I’ll patch you up.”

In reality, you’re terribly confused about a special forces agent needing first aid for a paper cut, but how could you complain? He needs help and you’re there to offer it.

The blonde sits on a cot near the fire—not before picking up your blanket from the ground and placing it back on the chair, though—and you situate yourself on a stool facing him.

You take Leon’s hand in yours gently and inspect the wound. It’s fairly shallow, but placed in the center of the webbed skin between his index finger and thumb. Tough spot. When your digits graze his rough knuckles he inhales sharply and you glance at him due to the sudden motion.

He doesn’t expect a reaction from you because he pauses for a second then asks, “You think I’ll live?”

“I dunno,” you answer, sucking your teeth. “Could be a close call.”

“Yeesh.”

“I know. My condolences.”

“For myself?”

“Uh-huh.” You turn his hand over so his palm faced the sky. “This’ll sting.”

When you disinfect the injury, Leon’s face twitches into itself but he keeps quiet, opting to focus his gaze on your face while you patch him up. You try not to shift under the intensity.

“What made you want to do this?” he queries, his voice cuts through the silence and startles you a bit. Leon looks pleased with himself and you roll your eyes.

“You’ll laugh.”

“Why would I do that?”

“It’s corny.”

Admittedly, it was—the original story as to why you wanted to be a nurse. You’ve had people laugh at it before and you mostly don’t want to repeat history with someone you find rather charming, but something in Leon’s face softens and he shakes his head briefly.

“Try me,” he challenges.

“Oh, fine.” Like there was a fight put up when you relent, smoothing a bandaid over his cut. “You know those things you’d fill out as a kid? Where it’s like, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Leon nods.

“Every single time, I would write superhero,” you laugh sourly because you got used to other people laughing when you said this, but he listens as if you’re the only sound he’s ever heard. “I’d draw myself with a little cape and all that. Then at a certain age the teachers start telling you, pick a real job, pick something that exists. And, I dunno, I thought: there are real superheroes. They save people every day because they want to.”

“I mean, I always knew I didn’t have all the right assets to be the one rescuing people from burning buildings and punching the bad guys. I wanted to help people when they couldn’t help themselves, you know? I can't carry the weight of the situation—it’s just not in my nature—but I can carry them. That’s why I started doing this, I guess.”

The look he gives you when you finish speaking is indescribable. He gazes deeply into your face like he’s trying to find a new feature he missed the first time. Something akin to pulling apart your mind with his eyes as if it’s clay made for the shaping and a load of a melancholy that’s too heavy for him; like he’s asking you, how do I carry it? Tell me how to carry something like that.

Your hand still lingers in his, over the bandaid you placed on him; you slide yours so the curves of your thumbs interlock and you grip the hilt of his palm. A hidden embrace.

Leon’s eyes dart toward your hands and he makes no effort to remove you from his grasp, his fingers relax against your wrist. He feels your heartbeat. You feel his. When he looks up again, all he sees are your eyes.

You don’t know why you went on that anecdote in the first place, not really. Only that you were finished patching him up and wanted—needed—him to linger for a bit longer.

“What about you?” you ask, voice hushed close to nothing.

“I wanted to help people, too.” He sounds uncharacteristic—sheepish? “That’s it… I can’t follow up with something as articulate as you.”

“It matters just as much even if you can’t express it,” you assure him, your head tilts.

Leon clears his throat and nods, slipping his hand from yours and looking anywhere that isn’t you. You created a shadow in front of his face, back facing the fire, but you can see the subtle dark tinge of his cheeks when he avoids your eyes. He chooses to look at his feet. There he goes, being endearing again, you think.

The harsh edges of his face are lit up with an orange glow, darkness shoots somewhere in between in a soft gradient, and he looks positively ethereal. If you reached out and cupped his face, you know it would be warm to the touch like laundry right out of the dryer. It makes him look all the more delicate and this feels more natural than the pointed looks and pinched expressions he usually wears.

You look back down at his hands. You’re trying to memorize the way they felt against yours (coarse and hot to the touch) and you get the picture of how hopeless you are—even an idiot could see you have a crush on him.

That doesn’t stop you from protecting your pride and you keep it to yourself. You stand up to put the disinfectant supplies and box of bandaids away without a word.

Leon stares at his hand like it’s missing a piece.

You have your head buried too deep into the cabinet to think much about that. Screaming at yourself was an understatement for what you’re doing in your head… a better description would be begging the floor to swallow you entirely with one gulp.

Surely, Leon has someone at home. He’s an attractive, intelligent man with an arguably stable job that pays him oodles more than he would ever need; not to mention how well-built he is, but again, for what seems like the millionth time you push this thought to the back of your mind. You could not focus on that.

“Are you okay?” his voice carries from the cot.

You take a moment’s breather and shut the cabinet door. “I’m good. How are your ribs?”

“They’re good.” Leon pauses, then adds. “Thanks.”

The shake of your head comes faster than your words; muscle memory. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“You do a good job.”

“I’m just a medic.”

“A good one.”

As you utter your gratitude for his comment, you hope he couldn’t feel the heat radiating off of your face from so far away. You weren’t one to get shy from such simple words, but you find your eyes glued to your boots because of his gentle bonniness. Damn you, you curse at him in your head—it held no weight.

The blonde stands from the cot and walks over to you. He bends slightly to catch your eyes in his. “I have to go now, but... yeah. Thank you.”

“Of course, Agent Kennedy.”

“Don’t start using formalities now,” he half-laughs, half-breathes. His face contorts when he stretches back, and his hand came up to massage his right shoulder—you even go to comment on this movement, being a medic and all, but he beats you to it with a smirk. “Stick with Leon.”

And then, in a few strides, he’s gone as fast as he came.

Your entire body deflates when you let out a guttural sigh. How come every time you watched his back, you were left reeling?

Unfortunately for you, that blasted man had ingrained himself into your head, sitting pretty in your thoughts as snug as a bug in a rug while you tried to do your job, or attempted to focus on anything other than your feelings for him. On the contrary, he returned to clearing out Umbrella facilities for the time being, which meant he was out of the base for days, or even weeks, considering he was one of, if not, the best agent they had. This saved you from the embarrassment of being caught trying to catch glances of him from inside the tent or during meals.

This, however, did not stop you from daydreaming when work got slow.

You wondered how someone like Leon behaved domestically, if he was completely different outside of the AUPIT, or if he was still just the sweet, reserved man who needed your aid often. Did he have any pets? What music did he listen to? You guess you’d have to ask him later, but you imagined that the pieces would fall into place and suit him. They’d be so perfectly Leon that when he told you, you would think to yourself, huh, why didn’t I think of that?

The amount of daydreaming you did was not lost on Winona, and occasionally she snapped her fingers in front of your face and grumbled under her breath, “I’ll kill that boy.” With no real threat to her tone.

Please, you can’t help it. He has arms with the muscle definition of a god and he told you-you were a good medic; you were a goner before you even realized it.

On the other hand, your family never let up with their pleas for you to return home, despite the fact that it simply wasn’t possible unless you had a very good reason for it. Which you didn’t, and you didn’t want to—people just didn’t get it through their heads that, yes, your job was difficult, and yes, patients got on your nerves sometimes, but no, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. This meant more to you than anything else you could fathom. You knew the fear these people felt first-hand, and you knew they needed a saving grace; just like you had.

(“Just come home,” your mother coos into the phone, her voice static-y and chopped from the poor signal. You could imagine her face right now, all worried and exhausted like you’re a child balancing on a wet playground. “There’s a hospital not too far from here… I’m sure they’d take you.

You promptly spend the next hour explaining to her that it isn’t that simple, even if you wanted to, and you remind her every few minutes that you aren’t going to leave, either. You’re happy, all things considered; which is why you make the executive decision to leave out all of the bad parts of your work so far.)

As for the efforts against Umbrella, you hear whispers of successes during dinners and fewer agents appeared at the medical tent’s door in need of assistance than when you arrived. So, you think things are going rather well for your organization. Less tired eyes and solemn faces; the fight wasn’t over, but everyone could rest a little easier with every night that passed.

And yet, those damned night shifts. You swear Winona and that other medic were scheming against you for no reason other than pure spite, on the basis of simply because they didn’t feel like doing it. It has to be funny to them by now, seeing you half-asleep at breakfast and looking all mussed at dinner because you woke up ten minutes prior. You let them laugh all they wanted because frankly, you began to enjoy the night shifts. The world went to sleep, and you enjoyed some peace and quiet.

You kick your feet up onto a stool and drape a blanket over your legs, book in hand. The soft sounds of Icelandic pop music crackles out of the radio and floats throughout the tent. You mouth the noises of the songs, unsure of the lyrics, but you’ve heard it so often by now, you could recognize the tune from the first few beats. You scat a few of the instruments, tapping your foot along. You don't notice the figure that stopped in the doorframe.

“Enjoying yourself?” Leon. You shut your book and turn to look at him, embarrassed. “I always feel like I’m coming at a bad time.”

“Never,” you reply with a haste that humbles you further. Worried about his sudden appearance in the medical tent after being gone on agent duties for nearly two weeks, you ask, “Are you okay?”

The corners of his mouth upturn and you barely see a flash of uneven teeth between the slit it creates, cute. This distracts you from how smug his face is. “I think I have a fever.”

“A fever this time?”

“Yep.”

“Make yourself comfortable, Leon.”

A paper cut, then a fever. You begin to think of his inability to soothe his minor maladies as an excuse to visit the tent. Your stomach flutters at the thought, but you have to make sure… just in case he’d fallen ill out there in the cold.

You find the thermometer and placed it in his mouth gingerly. It hangs crooked from the corner and he watches you with a certain keenness that makes you smile. After a few minutes, you check his temperature: 98.7. An amused hum escapes your lips without meaning to.

“Dying?”

“I don’t think you have a fever,” you answer, using the back of your hand to press against his forehead and cheeks. The first cheek is cold, then the left cheek warms under your skin—Leon’s expression falls bashful. “But if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were looking for reasons to come see me.”

It’s his turn to hum in thought. “Maybe.”

“You could just come talk to me.”

“You’re on the clock,” the blonde reminds you, grunting. In a swift movement, his hand presses into the curve of his neck and he rotates his right shoulder, face straining.

You see an opening. “That I am. What was that?”

“What?”

“Your shoulder.”

“I was stretching.”

“Does it hurt?”

Leon grumbles a response under his breath, unimpressed that you might have found something you could actually treat him for. You raise your brows. “I’ll take that as a yes. Let me see.”

“It’s fine.”

“Agent Kennedy.”

He pretends not to hear you.

“Leon.”

“Fine,” he gripes like a child being forced to get a shot and maneuvers to lay his stomach flat on the cot, his back faces toward the ceiling. He takes off his brown, fur-lined jacket and discards it onto the next cot over. You get a whiff of musk and cinnamon from the breeze it makes.

The shirt that clings to him left nothing to the imagination—a tight, black compression shirt stretches snugly over his muscles. You spread your fingers like fans to warm them up, then begin to run them over his shoulder and along the meat of his back.

You tsk, full of knots. This man needs a masseuse. You make a mental note to refer him to a good one you knew.

With the issue at hand, though, you find an impressive knot in his shoulder, which is likely the cause of his discomfort.

You huff, your work cut out for you. “There’s a big knot in your shoulder, Leon. How are you living like this?”

“I wake up and roll out of bed.”

“I need to get this out.”

Leon turns his head, his cheek presses to the cot. He gives you a look that says nothing short of, are you serious? You smile as sweetly as you can at him, an attempt to coax him. To your surprise, he averts his gaze fast and relents. The blonde agent sits up and shrugs his shirt off. It’s tossed next to his jacket.

Under the fire light and the dim glow of lanterns that hang in a line down the center of the tent, strings attached to the ceiling, you see the way chills prickle over the surface of his skin. Goosebumps, like rolled carpets being kicked open, unfurl down his arms rapidly and he lays down on his stomach once again.

Your face burns in the dark—you’d be surprised if you aren’t glowing like one of those lanterns from the amount of heat it exudes.

You use a dollop of skin cream to keep the area relaxed and pliable as you work out the knot with your fingers. You push it in the right direction until you got it in a better spot, then you knead it firmly. It crackles within his body.

“Fuck…” he groans in relief, nestling his head into the fabric of the cot as he sighs. “They teach you massages in nursing school?”

“That might be just a learned from life thing,” you state in total honesty. You wipe the excess lotion from your hands on a rag.

Curiously, he peers at you from the corner of his eye. “You have someone back home you do that to?”

A laugh falls from your lips, though your face feels even hotter than before (if that is even possible). “No—not at all.”

Leon lets out a pleasant hum and sit up from the cot. Good, he says without saying it.

He snatches his shirt and tugs it over his head; you pretend to make yourself busy so you have somewhere other to look than at him. You hear him sigh with great reprieve as he rolls his shoulder back and forth, it must’ve felt like a freshly oiled hinge.

He comes up behind you, his shoulder skims the back of your neck when he peers down at what you were doing on the counter. Which is a whole lot of nothing; moving cotton swabs from one container to the other, counting how many rolls of gauze you had left for the hundredth time. Mindless hand ministrations to distract you from the heart that pounds in your chest.

“Is this what you do all night?” he questions, mildly amused.

“Sometimes.”

“Must be glad I showed up.”

“Something like that,” you tease, glancing up at him with a coy smile.

You watch his withstraint break a little inside of him. He inhales sharply, losing the words you said somewhere between your eyes and your lips—he couldn’t focus with your faces so close to each other and neither could you. Leon reaches for the hand that rested on the other side of you and drags you in between him and the counter, twirling you to face him. Then he pauses and appears lost, like he doesn’t know which way is left and right.

Maybe he doesn’t know what to do, you think. You don’t really know either, so you go on about what you do know.

“You should probably use kinesiology tape on your shoulder,” you comment, suddenly becoming hyper-aware of all of your limbs. His eyes don’t leave your lips. You’d be a liar if you say yours left his.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The man’s body heat radiates off of him and it’s magnetic, pulling you closer, away from the bitter cold. Your breath hitches. His hand hovers over the curve of your neck, then it decides to rest on the side of your jaw, thumb pressed against your flushed cheek. You remember the texture of his warm palm, coarse and calloused from years of wear.

You try to memorize every fine line and crease that scuffs your face as he beckons you to close the gap with the slight tilt of his head. I’d make a terrible agent, my resilience is slim to none, you theorize when your body moves before your mind does. His mouth hovers over yours, his breath traces your cupid’s bow. You close the distance enough that your lips graze each other until someone clears their throat from a few feet away.

Winona stands like a judgmental statue, thin brows raise expectantly. You, and Leon, jump away from each other. It rocks the counter with a loud clatter that echoes.

“Agent Kennedy,” she acknowledges him first as a sign of respect. He nods back awkwardly. “You two look like you’re enjoying yourselves.”

Neither of you talk for a moment and you find yourself desperate to create any word that could explain what that was. Leon’s eyes dart around the room.

Finally, something solid comes to your tongue. “I’m sorry.”

And then she laughs in both of your faces. Her hand waves like it’s fanning your words away from getting inhaled. You and Leon glance at each other, brows knit in honest confusion.

“Kids,” she exhales. “Stop distracting my medic, Kennedy.”

Then he speaks, but it sounds more like a nervous cough. “Yes, ma’am.”

Winona shoos him with a gesture of her wrinkled hand and he musters a sheepish, apologetic smile for you as he hurries away from the tent. You don’t make much of an effort to move as you prepare your ego for the chew out it’s about to receive.

“And you. Try to keep the fraternization out of the tent.” With that, she continues past you to search through some files, snickering to herself and shaking her head.

You aren’t about to push your luck. You get to keep your job and ego intact, and that’s enough for you. So, you whisper a quiet, “Yes, ma’am.” And go on with your day.

The encounter with Leon left you feverish and all tingly in every limb whenever it crossed your mind over the following days. You saw him out and about around the base, and during meals he offered you frail waves that faded in a breath.

Truth was, you’re too afraid of rejection to ask him about that night—go figure. Maybe you’re a cliche. Maybe you’re both cliches. Who cares? Well, you do, and you thought the ruffled, pink-tinted expressions on Leon’s face whenever you crossed paths meant that he did, too, but neither of you made a move to approach the other. You questioned if you would rather be told that his only plans for you was a short work fling with no strings attached, or if he felt the connection that you did. A terrible predicament, really, and soon your desire for a straight answer outweighed the fear of hearing something you didn’t like.

When you went to find him in the meal tent, sitting alone in one of the back corners, he wasn’t there. Okay. You waited, then decided to check the nooks and crannies of the base where you knew he hung around, and nothing. Leon vanished into thin air the moment you gathered enough courage to speak to him. Somehow you thought he read your mind and planned for this to happen, just to be able to tease you without being present. But that was simply ridiculous. He had to go to work, just like you had to do yours.

A week went by, then two; no sign of Leon’s reappearance cropped up and you began to worry you wouldn’t get the chance to speak to him at all. The only reminder that soothed you was the fact that you knew the organization was on the home stretch for completely wiping Umbrella’s power in Iceland. This reassured you for many reasons. Mainly, that you’d be able to sleep in your bed again at a proper time that didn’t leave you exhausted; but you also found comfort in the idea of finally getting a word with the blonde agent that clung to your brain like a disease once everything was over.

Of course, you had fleeting thoughts that he died and you’d forever be left wondering about what could have been. But, that was just ridiculous—he’s Leon Kennedy, the agent that saved the president’s daughter from certain death. So, you chalked it up to your anxiety being built up as doubt about the succession of the mission began to be put to an end. That yes, you would all return home soon, and no nothing terrible and tragic would happen just as you were about to win.

Eventually, you all received the verdict of the mission. Success. The sun shone through the clouds brighter that day, in ribbons of gold that elevated all of your senses to something dreamlike. Another catastrophe prevented. More people saved—clockwork. To say you were pleased with the conclusion of your first ever out of country operation would be an understatement; you were ecstatic.

Still, you find yourself fretting over that thing with Leon as you help pack up the equipment in the medical tent.

Winona, who has grown increasingly engrossed in your love life, gives you a knowing look when your lips tug downward and you send a pointed glance toward the entrance of the tent for the tenth time in the last hour. She tsks and shakes her head. It gains your attention.

“Just talk to him,” she insists, shoving a couple boxes of bandaids into the case. She’s unimpressed with your antics and just wants you to get a move on.

You sigh and preen your hair like he’ll walk in at any moment. “I haven’t seen him.”

“Hopeless,” she grumbles in response. “Hopeless. If you won’t do something about it, stop looking at the door like a kicked dog and help me.” Winona retreats further into the tent and you succumb enough to follow her.

You must glower the whole time because she won’t stop sending you dirty looks while she tapes the cardboard boxes with a tape gun. Her movements are threatening. You try to fix your expression when the line of spokes reflects off of the bright horizon outside the tent as it slices the tape.

After the innards of the tent are packed into a dozen or so boxes, you’re the person left to pick them up one by one and drop them off with the rest of the cargo that needs to be shipped. Your back is sore from the sorry excuses of beds you have and your arms ache from hours of cramming things. Kicking snow with each shuffled step, you heave out a lengthy sigh and pause to breathe. There’s a reason I’m not an agent.

“Need a hand?” Leon asks from behind you. You’re wondering how he’s always sneaking up on you.

Still, you nod and can’t help but be relieved. “Please.”

Like it’s filled with air, he takes the box from your hands and cocks a barely-there grin at your awed expression. Smug and content, he marches ahead with you in tow. You don’t really know what to say to him, if anything at all.

You walk alongside him for the first time in the daylight, and you take in his features now that they aren’t muddled in the darkened firelight or blurred by distance. He’s chiseled, sunken cheeks and high cheekbones with that intense look on in his eyes—but there’s something else—boyish, is what you think. Soft jaw. Moles and freckles litter themselves across his face.

Leon is beautiful and you would like to kiss him right now.

He stops at the drop off point, places the box next to the others and turns to you. Suddenly, he looks nervous and you feel some resolve escape your mind. He’s about to ask you something. He opens his mouth, rosy lips parting and you break—you pull him behind a tall stack of boxes and kiss him.

The collar of his jacket is clutched between your fingers in a moment and your lips are on his; the fur tickles your skin. His lips are chapped and cold but you create warmth within him, you could be a summer’s day in this frigid air. His hands come to your waist, then your hips and his fingertips make indents when he holds you tight like this was always supposed to happen. When you part, you’re both breathless.

He searches for his words again, the question he was going to ask. “Would you—dinner? On me.”

You hum in faux thought and peck him on the lips again, then again, and a third time for good measure. He smiles into the last one.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t start that by saying you stubbed your toe and needed my help.”

Leon chuckles. “I thought about it.”

He pulls you in again, tongue grazing your bottom lip. You lean in further, desperate for connection until you both go slipping like baby deer. The thin layer of snow on the ground left everything icy. He tumbles into some supplies and you land on top of him. You’re both laughing into each other’s mouths. You’re both happy.

You chime together, like clockwork.

#leon kennedy #resident evil 4 #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #re4r leon #re4 remake #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy oneshot #fluff #oneshot #resident evil fluff #nurse!reader #nurse!reader x leon kennedy #post re4r

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compacflt · 10 months

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can i just say that I'm haunted by the image of Ice wearing "one of Mavericks cheapest rolexes". One because of the mental immage of Maverick being the kind of men who not only owns multiple watches but also Rolex, which is absolutely delightful, because oh the quiet vanity of that. And two because of the implied and groundbreaking (to me) domesticity (and defiance of the not talking/acknowledging the thing between the 2 of them) of wearing another person watch. I'm screaming into the void about your brilliance. So I need to ask, do they do that on purpose (before the mission) in a sort if roundabout way of acknowledging each other presence in their life? What would Mav wear that belongs to Ice (apart from that USNA ring eheh)?

pilots/sailors/doctors etc who do high-level specialized work with their hands tend to really be Watch Guys. and “cheap” rolexes (sub $7k ish) are actually pretty affordable if you’re making >$150k a year and want to treat yourself every fifth christmas or something. source: know several sailors & doctors. ALSO the watch ice is wearing in his famous gay plane photoshoot is actually a rolex. So theres some evidence ice at least is (annoying, ostentatious, bad with money, and) a Watch Guy. Maverick’s also wearing a kickass chronograph in TGM so i think he’s also probably a Watch Guy. also… you know, status symbol, honor, et cetera et cetera…

they probably wear each other’s socks because in-regs socks all look the same and they’re both men so who cares. i also hc that they’ve always worn the same size in shirts so each other’s t-shirts are also free game. and was very confusing at the start of their relationship when trying to figure out whose shirt was whose after a midnight rendezvous. lots of accidental shirt mixups. and, yeah, each other’s watches, because most people only see the status and don’t see the detail, and most people aren’t around both ice and mav enough to recognize that “omg last month adm kazansky was wearing the same omega chronometer capt mitchell is wearing today!! theyre totally together!!!” so if ice buys a new watch and maverick salivates over it, sure he can borrow it, whatever. and i think there’s a scene in wwgattai when maverick wears ice’s pj pants hold up lemme find it

“in bare feet.” now wtf does that mean. that could use a rewrite.

ice also wears mavericks leather jacket when they’re on their baseball date in debriefing. at some point when you live with someone long enough your stuff becomes their stuff which was the point of this graf

thinking about it… trying to decide if they’d wear each other’s cologne. that seems like a little much. no i don’t think so.

#oooh! this is the first time ive read this section of debriefing since i posted it! and wow it’s really just okay!#ugggghhh the house. the house.. *shakes fist* all my narrative problems have to do with the house…#would ice and maverick really get free LockMart/mcdonnell shirts? no idea #ive been working my first aerospace & defense job for a month now and ive gotten Boeing fidget spinners and raytheon sunglasses and #LM t-shirts so it’s not out of the realm of possibilities #but i am also not a federal employee so idk.#thx for the ask anon. i appreciate your use of the word ‘haunted’#pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #icemav #top gun #asks #man. i have such a problem with verb-tense agreement when it comes to ‘there is/there are’#in the second one it should be ‘there are all these…’ man. i can’t ever get there’s/there are right #oh wait you’re not anon #i am a Watch Guy but $20-$80 vintage novelty watches i find on eBay not Rolexes #i feel at some point i should change my blog header. it’s still my politics but #given that i am literally working in defense rn it feels a little hypocrit. ok. will change it.#alright as of this post my header has been changed to reflect the material conditions of my summer internship

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deerteetharepretty · 10 months

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Trans Ballister Headcannon and intersectional queer theory thoughts about the movie Nimona

I absolutely ADORE the Nimona movie but as an Autigender, genderqueer, who is specifically somewhere encapsulating genderfluid and trans masc nonbinary lesbian, this movie made me sob.

I related to Nimona so SO MUCH. But due to my love of studying the intersectionallitys of queer struggles as my special interest, i saw a specific headcannon among fans that has my entire heart.

I dont wanna put down anyone elses, i love them all, but i wanted to take a moment to talk about the beautiful lense you could look at queer intersectionality with the Trans Man Ballistar Boldheart headcannon.

I want to be clear i do not mean this in a weird way at all!

I think theres a lot to discuss with how we could view there kingdom as being accepting of gay people (at least a bit more progressed past where we are where there may not be hate crimes or any problems but some people are still terrible homophobs far and few)

But through the eyes of our child Nimona we see that the society only accepts queer folks who are “the good ones” aka constantly repressing little parts of their true self to appease others. The accept gay people and say they are willing to try with binary trans people but the bigotry and outward threat of violence to anything different has kept people in the coset, hiding beautiful, normal, facets of queer joy to be seen as acceptable to the kingdom.

That's why i am so inspired by the headcannon of Ballistar, maybe not openly trans but fully living as himself accepted by doctors and the queen fully at a young age, striving for his best life, with a loving and understanding boyfriend who truly sees him.

Because its him realizing Nimona isnt the enemy, they are just a transgender/shapeshifter child. Much like he doesnt understand shapeshifters at first, he doesn't understand their gender, but you start to see him see Nimona for who she is and love her so much. This headcannon also makes me think so much about the scene on the sword of Gloreth and the ones right before. After he hurt her Ballistar immediately regretted it. The look in his eyes and the way his hand went weak in shock when he realized he almost threatened her. He sees the fear on her face and it strikes me so much in the headcannon of them both being trans because he realized he was threatening a child, and a queer one like himself who clearly wanted to just be accepted and not hurt. I also want to talk for a moment about the ending with Ambrosius. I may need to make a part two because theres a lot to unpack with ambrosius being a cis gay man who is very supportive of the trans community and having a closeted trans partner. i feel like when the dust settles he would feel so horrible for how much he rejected Nimona in the first place. GOD I WANNA WRITE A FANFIC ABOUT THEM WORKING TO HEAL THROUGH THIS SHIT

#Nimona autism #nimona #nimona movie #nimona ballister #ballister boldheart #ballister x ambrosius #trans ballister #trans nimona #genderfluid nimona #queer theory in media #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister blackheart #goldenheart #boldloins

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thedisablednaturalist · 8 months

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Office disability culture is so fucked in environmental science and fieldwork. Like the mindset that to do the job you have to be in perfect physical health or you should just quit. Like I'm not talking about something that is 100% physical labor here, everything is mostly achievable with aids and you don't need to be able to do every single thing. But there's this weird like..pride..that my older coworkers have. They work out in the gym and brag about how many reps they did. They tease each other for having medical issues. They don't ask for accommodations because they fear that their legitimacy will be hurt. That it means that they can't do their job anymore. That they won't be TRUSTED to do their jobs anymore. That it will get taken away.

So they FURTHER hurt their bodies by not resting, not taking breaks, not using ergonomic equipment, not using safety equipment. Not drinking enough water. Not using mobility aids when they are so old that it's supposed to be acceptable. They don't use the scooters at the grocery store, they don't use their handicapped placard, they don't use knee pads or compression gloves.

And here I come in, 24 years old, looking perfectly healthy. And I use walking sticks, I sit down a lot, I have my care bag, I have a ton of gadgets for making fieldwork more comfortable, I have boundaries and limits, I wear braces and knee pads and compression gloves. I use my handicapped placard.

They react in one of two ways:

1. How DARE I. I'm so lucky to be young and no one sees THEM having to do all those things (literally nothing is stopping them but pride). Like old man if you need a break take a fucking break. I'm not going to hurt my health to make you feel better about hurting yours. I'm not risking a flare up to spare the 65 year olds feelings. Im gonna take my break and use my equipment cause my boss doesn't care as long as the work gets done. I'm tired of glares from 100 year olds making themselves struggle across the parking lot when they could also be using the fucking scooter. (I never take the last scooter, there's always another available. Also it's not my fault if walmart only provides 2 scooters for the whole store).

2. It shows them its okay. Its okay to need aids. When I first showed up at my job it was very...macho..everyone was afraid of seeming old (theres probably only 3 of us under 30 in the whole department, most people are at least 50, mainly 65 year olds). Then they saw me using my walking sticks, taking my medicine openly, bringing a chair with me when working away from my desk, using my TENS unit. I overheard one lady ask her granddaughter what fibromyalgia was (apparently she had spotted my pain tracking journal).

My older coworker with a bad knee got a walking stick like mine and beamed when she showed me. The grandmother uses a cane and a walker interchangeably and more often. I get asked where I get my little portable fan and pocket heaters and special clothing. Even abled coworkers are doing it. My coworker who's younger than me sets alarms to take breaks now just like I do. People seem more comfortable using things that help them now.

My boss has really struggled. He has a lot of internalized ableism and hates thinking of himself as crippled. He spent his whole life physically active and strong and all these health issues and overexertion are catching up with him. Like he did environmental testing in areas with fucking radon. He did work where they threw asbestos around like snow for fun. He's done a ton of really hard physical work. He grew up with the mentality that pain was just something everyone has to push through. But I think seeing a young person make the choice not to push through is helping him a bit. He wants to make his own walking stick, he goes to the doctor more. We bond over having constant medical issues and I even gave him the name of my surgeon. Yea he still says stuff like "shoot me if I have to use a wheelchair" (not as much anymore since he now knows I use one) but he's getting there.

Yeah so I've had this in my drafts for a bit and I wanted to update that my boss has been walking around with a fucking broken ankle for the past couple of weeks. He thought it was just arthritis pain and eventually couldn't take it anymore and went to the foot doctor. The doctor has no clue how the fuck he's been walking on it. Now he has to wear the boot and he's banned from fieldwork while he heals.

Older people and the elderly need to learn that it's okay to not push through the pain and ask for help. Everyone needs to learn this, and not be like my fucking boss. Go to the doctor, get that sore joint checked out. Get those tests done. Use that aid. Stop walking on a broken ankle just because you can.

#chronic disability #chronic pain #spoonie #disability #from the field #wrenfea.exe #literally fucking flabbergasted #he walked in after leaving for a bit to go to his appointment and came back like so yeah my ankles been broken #BUDDY #everyone needs help sometimes you dont deserve to be in pain #like thats some catholic guilt shit im pretty sure #this man has had 4 major back surgeries so i guess a broken ankle is nothing compared to that #but still...jesus fucking christ #not sprained..BROKEN #and thats along with all the rest of the pain hes in #like i get being used to pain but if i stub my toe during a flare up I can't handle it because it pushes my pain level over the edge #so it actually makes me less tolerable since im already in pain #but im used to a higher pain level than abled people are #ok im done rambling for now im gonna go play Minecraft

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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mako-neexu · 2 months

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please do give a summary!! and thank you 🥺❤️

i got busy with dream striker asdsjkfh but heres the summary:

basically 80% of the Servants take their leave and return to their home countries- or at least where they're located considering the earth is bleached. And Santa Martha picks Nemo to be 2023 santa this time so he's named Nemo Porter. After taking on the role of santa, Nemo insists on guda and mash to stay and fully relax in the border then after nemo leaves BB helps guda and mash secretly assist santa nemo by making sure his route is safe wherever he goes.

over the week, we get to learn that nemo took on being santa because he wants to give someone a gift. you see how even king hassan himself warned nemo about it then later on merlin stops nemo for a while because of just how risky the operation is and tells them that its practically near-worthless given what they're going to do, then BB with guda and mash not to ask nemo about what hes planning.

nemo's objective all along is to gift guda their chaldean uniform- the very Master from years ago who collapsed right after a battle simulation as soon as they came to Chaldea. its really sweet...

it was a highly risky voyage considering time travel itself is near impossibility and could absolutely destroy Nemo's saint graph into nothing should he even breathe wrong during the Zero Sail or during his time at 2015 chaldea. so "no changing the past" is something that was absolutely integral to the time travel. even telling past-ritsuka about how special the uniform is would cause everything to fall apart. (this is also why the event is named like this btw 7 days of preparation and delivering presents and 8 years of traveling back far into the past)

after going through against the harsh upcurrent (and even seeing guda's nightmares especially Garden of Lostwill), nemo and the crew eventually safely travel back to the past, with nemo wearing meuniere as a disguise. there, he sees cerejeira, some old staff... and finally Romani Ar- "Man in a Lab Coat".... which the Man almost instantly realize its not "Meuniere" beneath but maintains friendliness regardless. they have a chat- a small chat of world fighting for survival to which the Man in a Lab Coat expresses his opnion that there is no right and wrong in a battle for survival. that the victor only gets to have the right to see what happens next.

then the conversation finishes and "Meuniere" asks the Doctor for two pairs of white gloves. to which santa nemo gives to the present guda and mash as his christmas present for both of them, after having delivered past-guda's uniform for them to use later on.

ok cut now for lore stuff

basically the most striking detail albeit small, changes everything.

"Announcer" - Prologue of the Fuyuki singularity

"CHALDEAS" - Christmas 2023 event

this basically means that it wasnt an accident that Fujimaru Ritsuka became Humanity's Last Master that day. it means that CHALDEAS itself literally planned for fujimaru to pass out in the simulation to delay their arrival from the bombing, setting the battle simulator to "Senior" or highly difficult on their first day.

CHALDEAS. CHALDEAS itself chose ritsuka that day. it could probably be because no one was highly as compatible with servants as much as Fujimaru Ritsuka themself. and considering its true purpose is to fulfill marisbury's grand order, it must have chosen them for that reason? theres not much info on chaldeas that i remember but if you consider this, then that changes everything from the start.

#ask #fgo #fate grand order

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jolivira · 1 year

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DW POSITIVITY DRIVE

in case you havent seen it, theres this initiative going around by taka to share stuff we love about doctor who!

so heres my list of stuff, in no particular order:

thasmin

I could write for hours about how important thasmin is to me but to spare all of you I wanted to focus on how the ship happened on the show, how chibbs, mandip and jodie saw our love for the characters and how much we related to them and decided to make it happen for us! and ended up gaving us one of the most beautiful wlw storylines ever

series 5

the whole crack in the wall plot is so well written and so mysterious and fun, honestly for me s5 is a capsule of everything good in doctor who! I loooove the fairytale/peter pan storyline sprinkled through amy's character, the humour, the episodes, river coming back, thE VAN GOGH EPISODE????

the van gogh episode

(I thought it deserved its own topic thingy because its that good)

PRAXEUS

its such a good episode, the visuals are stunning, the character parallels are great, the humour is good, it has so many iconic lines ("did she say brains" "thats why you smell like a dead bird" "Im a sucker for a scientist"), DID I MENTION BRAZILIAN QUEEN GABRIELA SPEAKING PORTUGUESE, the episode also takes advantage of the tardis potential and we go to new places outside europe/north america, gay kiss, its just such a good episodeeeeeee

him

missy what a beautifully complex character... sillyness combined with terrifying seriousness, danger, unpredictability and tragedy, with a potential for good just under the surface. basically I really like her and I will defend her to the end of times

yasmin khan god where do I even start. I think yaz has one of the most beautiful character arcs Ive ever seen, subtle and gentle, just like her. yaz is a character that at first glance people dont really get, and youre not supposed to, slowly she grows inside of you, opens up and develops. her journey from struggling with bullying and mental health issues, to desperately looking for something important to do and then meeting the doctor, falling in love with her, repressing her feelings to then finally come to terms with it and love her life like she never thought possible before (I need to stop here otherwise Im gonna bawl my eyes out) ((but you get the gist))

just any time the doctor speaks/pretends to speak with animals, aliens that dont speak english or babies, thats my shit right there

coatless 13 in the magenta shirt (I love her so much)

anytime the doctor Fixes or Builds Things and they are surrounded with steampunk tools and helmets and shit, like yes little nerd go make something explode

this one is a bit of a cheat cause its not about the show itself! but I just wanted to say a big thank you to everyone who creates stuff as well as supports stuff being made here in the fandom! in special I wanted to thank fanfic writers yall are fucking incredible and those masterpieces have helped me a ton, they also truly inspire me, so yeah keep on being amazing!!

I think that's all for now at least, and if you reached the end of this enormous post make sure to make your own, go go go!

#dw positivity drive #dw #dw positivity #doctor who #this is such a nice idea #its also really fun to just word vomit stuff i love about this show kdhkdsfhkfd #thasmin #thirteenth doctor #yasmin khan #discussion #also unrelated but tumblrs post editor was so buggy??#i had to write this twice and it was An Experience

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ineffable-endearments · 10 months

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A Matter of Life and Death / Stairway to Heaven (1946)

Posted for the @gomenseveryday countdown to Good Omens 2! 16 days to go!

I was able to watch this old movie just by searching for the title on Roku. At least in my region, there are a few free apps you can download to watch it - there were commercials, but not too many.

This movie had two different titles: Stairway to Heaven in the US, and A Matter of Life and Death in the UK.

I’ll admit, old movies can be hard for me to get into because - and this is difficult to explain, but I’ll do my best - the language, the framing of stories, and the very cinematography is so different from what I’m used to. It’s definitely not about special effects and has nothing to do with the quality of the story or acting; it’s something vague. It’s like a dialect of a language that I speak, where I can understand a lot of it, but there are serious gaps in my understanding. As a result, I might miss social cues that most contemporaries of those movies would have picked up with no problem (like slang expressions). If you’ve seen this movie and my interpretation sounds off, there is a good chance it’s because the movie is more than twice as old as I am and I don’t fully know what I’m talking about.

Stairway to Heaven is referenced in the opening sequence to Good Omens 2 (the link leads right to the opening sequence, so don’t click it if you want to keep that a surprise), and has also been mentioned by Michael Sheen as a favorite movie. It’s about a World War II pilot named Peter Carter whose “time is up,” who is supposed to die as he ejects from his burning plane without a parachute - but Conductor 71, his usher to the afterlife (a former French aristocrat who has been dead for a long time), loses track of him in the soupy fog of the English channel. Peter has to appeal to a Higher Authority for an extended lifetime with his new beloved, the American operator at an army base who took what he believed was going to be his final call from his plane. Her name is June.

While Peter is experiencing this heavenly appeal, his doctor and love interest are assuming that his struggle is “real to him” but not literal; they believe he is having many very complicated hallucinations that he needs to work through, while in the physical world, surgery needs to be done on his brain to prevent lasting damage.

It’s said at the beginning of the movie that the ethereal events take place in the pilot’s imagination. While I can take that somewhat at face value, the movie presents the afterlife trial as very real, intermingling it with Peter’s brain surgery and appearing to affect the world around him physically. The movie validates the pilot’s experience and the complexity of the ideas he’s grappling with, while acknowledging that his brain injury is also a physical reality. I can’t be entirely certain whether the success of the surgery led to Peter’s survival or whether the success of the ethereal trial led to the success of the surgery, and I suspect that’s the whole point.

It’s a thoughtful movie with much more to it than just the similarities to Good Omens. However, this post is about those similarities.

There are so many familiar things here. The afterlife as a bureaucracy? Oh, yes, it has that in spades. Theres also an amusing scene wherein Conductor 71 stops time to have a chat with Peter. The main characters are English and US-American, too, and an element of “sides” is introduced in the form of debate over the cultures of England and the USA. This is no concern to Peter and June, but it is very concerning indeed to the afterlife entities who died during historical events.

All in all, I’d highly recommend this movie if you want to connect with some familiar ideas as they manifested in a story from many decades ago. Note that the movie does date itself sometimes. To my relatively untrained eye, it seemed pretty respectful, although there were a few stereotypes that you might expect from 1946, and I think it tried to boldly face some aspects of history (e.g. England's imperialism) while continuing to sanitize others. Overall, though, I'd recommend it!

EDIT: Oh, dear. I didn't notice, but after reading online, I've been informed that there's blackface in the movie. One of the celestial characters is intended to be a Black American, but during part of his appearance on-screen, the film switches from black and white to Technicolor, and you can see that he's played by a white actor. This information is from TV Tropes and I can't seem to find screenshots of any related parts of the movie, but you should be warned that it's in there.

#GOmensEveryday #good omens 2 #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #good omens series 2 #fan project #ineffable husbands

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kylejsugarman · 3 months

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16 and 21 for Baby, 6 for Demi, and I forget what their brother's name was i'msosorry but 4 for him!

thank u ro!!! 🥺 although 40 lashes for not remembering mason's name

16. What does your OC's childhood bedroom look like?

when baby is still living in the ayuluk house, she sleeps in the bedroom that was converted from a closet back when mason was born, which did its job but wasnt anything special. once jesse and demi decided to move in together, he got really excited by the prospect of turning the spare room into baby's new bedroom. he built her a trundle bed with drawers underneath to store her toys and books and a desk while demi painted the walls light blue. there's thick blue curtains over the window to keep out bright sunlight on snow light that have graphics of kelp and coral along the bottom half and fish to make it look like the ocean floor. one corner has all her doll stuff and is padded with a rug so she can comfortably play on her knees. it's a little eclectic and theres definitely a lot of blue, but baby LOVES it. her room is her favorite place in the world.

21. If your OC could speak to their childhood self, what would they say?

man. "we're kind of weird, but that's ok. we don't have to change that part or anything. but please don't think ur wrong or not supposed to be loved. ur going to be so happy. people will like u for real and u will like urself :)"

6. Did your OC have a teacher or a mentor growing up? What was your OC's relationship with them like?

demi definitely looked up to her mom and had a lot of love for her, but it was difficult to like. fully learn from and trust her because demi Was the lightning rod for sam henry's abuse and everyone Knew it, including her mom. she was really polite to adults, but didnt really trust most of them or expect them to understand her until her eighth grade science teacher. initially, her teacher was just impressed by demi's intellect and performance in the class, but she soon realized that demi was not being nurtured quite the way she deserved to be. this was a smart, sweet kid who didnt recognize those traits in herself. she gets to know demi and invites her to read or do homework in her classroom before and after school so demi doesnt have to wait outside. she's the one who encourages demi to start volunteering at the animal shelter once demi admits that she'd like to go into a caretaking profession and likes animals more than people. it wasn't anything like Monumental, but demi really needed this kind of encouragement and just attention from an adult and it set her on her career path. they're facebook friends and demi agonizes at least once a month over whether she should send a message to her to express her gratitude or if it would be Weird.

4. What was your OC's childhood dream? Is that still their dream? If it has changed, why did it change and what's their new dream?

mason was the kind of kid who wanted to do Only Cool Shit when he grew up. like he did Not want to be a doctor or a police officer, he wanted to be a BMX racer or helicopter pilot or just like. guy who drives monster trucks for a living. his dream was basically to live to the extreme and never, ever have a boring life. now as an adult, this isnt quite his dream anymore, but he still aspires to not live a boring life. working at the docks and manning industrial fishing boats injects some excitement into his life while also providing a pretty good wage for first his family, then himself. he and his buddies will do fun, risky shit—snowboarding, axe-throwing, jumping ice floes—just for the sake of having fun. mason has a little more self-awareness now and concern for his wellbeing since he had to take on a lot of responsibility before he was even an adult and currently wants to stay at least somewhat safe to be there for his sister and her family, but he's sticking to his dream of never letting tedium and fear win.

#rosayoro #ask #syd squeaks #this again got too long but i had SO much fun answering these omg #baby ayuluk #demi ayuluk #mason ayuluk #jesse pinkman

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orpheuslookingback · 5 months

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(okay caveat here is idk if theres actually something planned for the christmas special that i dont know about that solves the problem im having with this but:)

aaaahhh okay i just finished the final doctor who 60th anniversary episode, and like I love the Tennant Doctor, I love Donna, and as much as part of me likes seeing them happy it just...it just did not work for me as a ending. Like it feels honestly like it's doing a huge disservice to the new Doctor? To be like "actually there's another one still around who is ostensibly still a full Time Lord, with a TARDIS and everything"? Like okay- I will buy the Toymaker and his weirdo reality warping abilities causing regeneration to act abnormally, fine. But what I honestly think would have been better and feel less like a convoluted mess and also be less of a disservice to the new version of the character would be if, after we get that moment of closure between 14 and 15 on top of the tower (which was very sweet and I did like), now that the Toymaker is gone his reality-altering powers also fade and the regeneration has to happen properly, and 14 fades away, having received some closure, to become part of 15 again.

But even if it had been more like the Metacrisis Doctor- 14 doesn't get to keep the TARDIS (the TARDIS duplication thing was probably my least favorite part of the whole sequence tbh), he definitively loses the ability to regenerate (idk if thats implied at all? but it definitely wasn't outright stated), something like that- he's still closer to being the proper "Doctor" than the Metacrisis one but it's still a more closed ending that wouldn't feel like it was somehow kind of undermining the idea that 15 is the new "real" Doctor.

I did still like the special on the whole and I do still look forward to the new episodes (and I thought Ncuti Gatwa left a really good first impression in terms of his performance and characterization! I really really look forward to seeing more of 15!!) but this one part just felt so off to me.

#doctor who #doctor who 60th anniversary #the giggle #14th doctor #15th doctor #doctor who the giggle #fifteenth doctor #fourteenth doctor

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thealmightyemprex · 1 year

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Sci Fi Month Review 7 : Roger Cormans Fantastic Four

For this review…..We're looking at something special,the unreleased Fantastic Four movie

In this 1994 film Scientist Reed Richards(Alex Hyde-White ) and his companions Sue Storm (Rebecca Staab ),Johnny Storm (Jay Underwood ). and Ben Grimm(Michael Bailey Smith) take a space flight to study a comet,but things go wrong and the four find themselves changed with extraordinary powers and in the clutches of the mysterious figure named Doctor Doom (Joseph Culp )

So Marvel is huge now in mainstream American pop culture ……But that wasnt always the case.I'll just be honest people ,I am hesitant looking at pre Blade/X Men/Spider-Man live action Marvel adaptations cause they can be …Rough .I mean theres some gems ,I will always love The Incredible Hulk TV show starring Bill Bixby and even have a soft spot for the subsequent TV movies based on that show …..But then you have the 1990 Captain America movie ,Nick Fury Agent of SHIELD starring David Hasselhoff and of course,Howard the Duck .One that has always fascinated me is this film because in fandom circles for many years it was infamous for being the Marvel movie so bad ,they never released it (Which isnt the case truth is more complicated and capitalistic ,basically the film was a way to maintain rights ),a film you could only find as bootlegs at conventions,seen as a geeky oddity along the same lines as the Star Wars Holiday Special .Now you can find it on youtube (Which is how I watched it ) ,and having watched it……I think this film is kind of underrated and I am sad it did not get a proper release

So I gotta explain myself :As a kid some of my earliest comic memorie were reading the Stan Lee and Jack Kirby run of Fantastic Four ,and my dad had the complete series of the 90's Fantastic Four cartoon ….So the Fantastic Four have a special place for me .From the pathos of the Things plight ( a man trapped in the body of a monster ),to the sci fi adventure,to the romance of Reed and Susan ,to the grand villainy of Doctor Doom(Heck a slew of great villains),to the feeling of family ,the Fantastic Four appealed to me .....And I am kind of grumpy that Fantastic Four lacks a great adaptation that captures the spirit .Now there is no shortage of Fantastic Four adaptations out there.....But most of them,at least for me,are kind of mid ,specifically the film adaptations have left a lot to be desired .The Tim Story duology has the humor and the four leads relatively right ,but drops the ball in that they dont DO much and completely misrepresent the villains ,and 2015's Fant4stic might be the worst comic book movie I have ever seen .However this film ,while not the definitive film version I crave and not really a great movie .....IS the BEST movie version of the Fantastic Four and a fairly decent super hero film I feel

Now there is a lot I could make fun of ,its very flawed,like keep in mind ....This was produced by Roger Corman ,they didnt have much of a budget ,so the visual effects are a bit cheesy and bad(The CG Human Torch looks like he is straight out of Reboot ) but I dunno I find them charming .The only lack of budget thing that bothered me is the dialogue of Doctor Doom.....In that they didnt either have the money to loop him or think to loop him(HAve him record his lines later ) which is a problem cause Doom is clanking about and is wearing a mask that muffles his speech......So I dont know what the main villain is SAYING sometimes (Credit to Joseph Culp who does project very well so I know 75% of his dialogue but that 25 % is annoying ).My main flaws are the romance elements ,from the creepy Reed falling for Susan who he knew as a child to Ben and ALicia being in love despite meeting ONCE(And even that scene is a bit creepy ).We also have a subplot that frustrates me as the film has two villains ,Doctor Doom of course.....But then you have the Jeweler.Now the Jeweler was supposed to be the Mole Man ,a guy who due to his physical appearence has cast aside society to live underground and was actually the fours first villain.....Till Marvel said "NO you have the rights to this select group of character,not the Mole Man " ,so he was reworked into the Jeweler ....And I think they should have cut him out.Now I like the idea of his subplot ,him falling for Alicia and trying to make her his queen ,inviting Ben who has now become the monstrus thing to joing his group and Ian Trigger actually gives a great performance ,being creepy but also having a sense of sadness (He reminds me of what Tim Burton tried to do with the Penguin in Batman Returns ) ,and while the name is changed,its a good adaptation of the Mole Man .........Pity he adds nothing to the film other then causing the accident that makes the four the four and kidnapping Alicia,things that Doctor Doom couldve easilly done .I mean it folks in the grand scheme of things,the Jewler is pointless,he never fights the Fantastic Four and he just kind of runs off before the third act .I like the performance and the plot idea,but it shouldve been reworked or cut

Thaaaatttt said.....I still like the movie.....BEcause of the Fantastic Four movies.....Its the bonly one to get that Fantastic Four feel to me:A fun lighthearted sci fi adventure and thats what I want from Fantastic Four .The Four feel in character,its accurrate to the source material andits the only one to get Doctor Doom right at ALL(Actually keeping that he is the King of Latveria and hinting at doombots ).Yes the film is low budget but it makes that budget work ,heck the comic accurate sewn spandex costumes for the Four are charming to me because in universe the costumes are made by Susan and they legit look like something she could make herself (An issue I have with a lot of superhero movie costumes ment to be handmade ).Doctor Doom looks like he stepped right out of the comics with the green cloak and tunic combo and metal mask /armor ,I love this look for Doom .The Thing looks pretty good too with an animatronic face that brings to mind the old Jack Kirby design and stunt man Carl Ciafalio gives a good physical performance (THoughI do find it amusing that the Thing is SMALLER then his human persona Ben Grimm,played by Michael Bailey Smith ) .No one in the main cast is bad ,alll these actors are giving it their alll .I have already discussed my soft spot for Ian Trigger as the Jewler, Rebecca Staab is a good Susan ,and Jay Underwood is a suitable Johnny .Michael Bailey Smith is a good Ben Grimm and he also does a decent job voicing the Thing and bringing the appropriate pathos (Though I do wish he had the Things signature Brooklyn accent ).Alex Hyde White might be my favorite Reed Ritchards really selling both the scientist and the leader aspect .Biggest props have to go Joseph Culp,who delivers a great performance despite being in a vfery uncomfortable costume with a mask that muffles his speech,and is able to project well ,make grand gestures (Inspired by real tyrants like Mussolini ) but also make him a fun eloquent villain who still has a sense of humor with a good hero villain dynamic with Reed .Also he is CONSTANTLY evil laughing ,and I dig it

I like this movie ,there is clearly a lot of heart in this movie .....Which makes me sad that the film was mistreated by those at the top.Its not a lost masterpiece ,but it is an highly entertaining B movie that pays tribute to its source material

@ariel-seagull-wings @filmcityworld1 @the-blue-fairie @amalthea9 @goodanswerfoxmonster @themousefromfantasyland @angelixgutz @princesssarisa @theancientvaleofsoulmaking

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sharpth1ng · 1 year

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Love debaser, love that you’re a psych major. I am also so that’s awesome. I feel like tbh that’s probably why you’re good at characterization as well. I was wondering how you can tell in general if someone is autistic vs bpd? You’ve talked about Billy’s psych before, and I am just wondering if you can talk about it generally too.

Thanks so much! Essay incoming:

So I would say take all of this with a grain of salt, I'm not a clinician- I work with clinicians but this isn't my specialty and personality disorders should really be diagnosed by specialists.

But generally the best evidence we have about the development of BPD is genetic vulnerability (Things like emotional sensitivity and impulsivity can have a strong genetic component) in combination with an invalidating or unsupportive social environment. What counts as a trauma for someone depends heavily on what their level of sensitivity is, and also what resources they have to deal with it, so the idea is that bpd is essentially something that develops when someones emotions and needs are invalidated consistently from a young age.

It becomes hard to trust other people and also your own feelings, and you may learn that you have to do things like lying to get the help an support that you need, or that your emotions are so large and you have so little support for them that the only way to cope is to harm yourself. All this is to say that bpd, trauma, and invalidation are closely tied together.

Now moving on to the connection with autism, because theres a not insignificant number of autistic people who are also diagnosed with bpd. This may be a slightly sweeping statement, but at least for myself, being an autistic child was inherently traumatizing. I was constantly subjected to sensory hell in school, around other kids, and particularly at meal times, and my meltdowns were perceived as intentional tantrums. On top of this I would lose the ability to speak sometimes and this was also taken as an intentional behaviour.

Because there are so many things neurotypical people don't even notice that are traumatic to autistic folk (like fluorescent lights or an unexpected change of plans) we are constantly invalidated, especially when we are young. Basically here I'm just trying to explain why the overlap exists.

No on to differentiating the two, this is a useful diagram:

The real answer here is that we're still really trying to figure out exactly how these two disorders interact and how to differentiate them and in my opinion theres a lot of terrible research in personality disorders, and a lot of unqualified people giving out diagnosis (don't trust your family doctor to diagnose you with a mental disorder, they at most got like a month training and psychologists, psychiatrists and counsellors study this stuff for for 6-8 years).

There is also some evidence that autistic people who were assigned female at birth are more likely to be diagnosed with bpd than people who were assigned male at birth who have the same symptoms, so there might be a gender bias in the way that diagnosticians perceive people too.

There are some bigger differences to look at though, so things like sensory symptoms (sensitivities but also stimming), special interests, neurodivergent body language, literal interpretation and introversion are more common for autistics. In contrast, people with only bpd are more likely to have a history of childhood abuse or neglect, heightened sensitivity to perceived social threat (which some autistic folk may be oblivious to), drastic emotional up and down, and personality instability, where they frequently change values, hobbies, opinions, friendships, ect. (while in contrast most autistic people are pretty consistent on those things.)

One of the most important things is to figure out why behaviours are happening- for example, self harm and substance abuse are common for both groups, but for autistics these behaviours are often a way to compensate for sensory overload and anxiety, while for people with bpd they are a way to deal with feelings of emptiness or overwhelming emotion.

Another example would be difficulty in relationships- for autistic people this often comes from an inability to spontaneously produce neurotypical social behaviours, so a lot of us miss cues or copy and paste behaviours to try and blend. In contrast many people with BPD have an unstable sense of self, so their social behaviours can seem "disorganized" from the outside, and they may miss read situations because they constantly looking for threats so they can try and protect themselves.

Personal history is also important- if someone has a deep distrust of people because they were neglected as a child, this may point to bpd, but if they have a distrust of people because the weren't able to read their peers and got severely bullied for special interests in elementary school, then this may point to autism.

And again, some people do have both! But it's honestly really difficult to differentiate them without seeing a diagnostician over a long period of time. Its super important though, effective treatment for an autistic person is different than effective treatment for people with bpd, and for people with both its different as well.

I hope this is somewhat clear! I don't want to simplify any of this because it actually is really complex and I just want to be honest about that.

#again I'm not a diagnostician I'm just a researcher #take this with a grain of salt #autism and bpd #ask #cw sh mention

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rearranging-deck-chairs · 2 years

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half a thought but it’s kinda special that for a while (at least all of new who i’d say) regeneration has been very much about dying whereas for 13 the focus shifts to the rebirth

and maybe thats just bc she hasnt died yet. maybe sunday she will use those exact same words for what happens. but i think it’s interesting that the focus is so much more on rebirth and change than on death and endings. even though we do feel that “im running to you before you fade from me” in how she relates to the fam i think, it still feels more like it’s about the pain of change than only about loss. change is loss but you know what i mean.

ryan grows up, graham “i was wrong, we do get aliens in sheffield”, yazs....Everything. i think thasmin too bc it’s all so new. yes fine it’s a companion love story we’ve seen many but it’s never been like this. for the doctor.

the change is shown as a good thing for all of them i think but the doctor struggles with it. bc it’s never been like this. it has always been endings, it’s been deaths. doesnt like endings, doesnt say goodbye, just abandons it all. and 13 doesnt do that. she sees things through through the death to the continuation of life. she sticks around for grace. she prays for the pilot in tsuranga. even this?

MABLI: They, er... they say quarantine scanning and craft detox should take no more than three hours, then they'll admit us to the facility. They're booking your teleport to Seffilun, as soon as you've spoken to the investigators. DOCTOR: Thank you, Mabli. I'll be sure to tell them how brilliant you were.

gonna talk to the police?? for real?? and she does the weddings in demons. and that little exchange with yaz at the end: “she made it out right? she lived?” “she made it out.” yaz herself is like the entire continuation of life after that death that happened.

and erik in it takes you away saying theyre going back to oslo after having processed the death of his wife. 13 doesnt end with the death. theres always more life on the other side.

and like i said maybe when it’s time she will still say it’s a death. and it will be. but it’s also new life. and i think it will feel like that. if only bc yaz will live with the memories.

#both LIVE and WITH THE MEMORIES #bestie you can do it i believe in you fghkjghgj #like only martha has done that before i think #in new who

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batsinurbelfrey · 11 months

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15 QUESTIONS, 15 TAGS

tagged by LA's #1 Boyfriend [gn] @18minutemajor

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYBODY? Not my first name, but my middle name is my grandmother's first.

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? Last night LOL, I got a Very Kind letter in the mail from someone I love very deeply, and I had just had a long and stressful day.

3. DO YOU HAVE KIDS? I always go "no, im not a person that counts pets as kids so i dont" but you know what. With Dai working her way through her FIFTH medical emergency of the year right now, im gonna say Yes. One. costs abt the damn same at this point at least lol

4. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? I DO. but it really depends on the situation, I have a deep fear of hurting someone's feelings who doesn't maybe Know me well enough yet and misreads me etc etc. Basically, the more I come to trust you, the more of a bitch I am. /jjjjjj

5. WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED? As a kid I played Basketball, Baseball, Soccer [Defence and Goalie depending on the years] , and lacrosse. Soccer was my favorite I loved both positions and liked the coaches too, lacrosse I quit after a month because I was told the girl's team wasn't allowed to play full contact but the boys was and 12yr old me went full fucking protest mode. [which admittedly pissed the city off a bit because I was there on fully paid funding through a like "get poor kids off the streets" initiative fkladjslkgadsgl but-] My dad also tried to spend a summer teaching my brother and I to play tennis at the local rec center so he'd have someone to play with but I hated that too LOL

6. WHAT'S THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT SOMEONE? Visually its usually just, whatever's the brightest color [be that like, hair, clothes, tattoos etc] but physically im def always watching for like, "what is their level of physical comfort right now" so i can overthink it and navigate the conversation with that in mind trying to hit all the right dialogue choices for their mood like a crazy person [*Points* GAD/ADHD] /lh

7. EYE COLOUR? Gray [but blue or green in certain lights, due to like color temperature and refraction n' stuff]

8. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? Happy endings, but ONLY if theres like. a little loss or sacrifice to get there and give it value. "feel good" movies almost always just Annoy me, they feel Empty and Dull. [but its totally fine if they are your jam. we dont yuck yums here]

9. ANY SPECIAL TALENTS? UHHH--- "i dont think so" sounds BAD lol. but maybe like "good at reading people" not in a bad manipulative way. but just in the sense of like. i tend to be the friend ppl come to when upset and confused and i watch and listen and then go "this is why you feel that way" and they are like "OH--- yeah... damn thanks that helps" etc lol

10. WHERE WERE YOU BORN? Washington DC! fun fact the hospital was since bulldozed for condos and a trader joes 💀

11. WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES? drawing, live music, vinyl collecting, embroidery, video games, flower pressing, reading [when i can].

12. DO YOU HAVE PETS? YES < 3

13. HOW TALL ARE YOU? 5' 9 or 5'10 seemingly, depending on which doctor you ask for some reason LOL, probably has to do with my godawful posture

14. FAVOURITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL? ART CLASS FOR SURE, that was always the only place I liked being. if you held a gun to me and said "no electives" tho, id say English. [what can I say, im Queer]

15. DREAM JOB? I DO NOT FUCKING DREAM OF LABOR!!!! I just want to live in a nice little house doing my nice little hobbies and seeing all my friends and magically have money for all that. that said, I am basically currently doing a younger me's "dream job" though so, can't complain too hard.

my lunch break is ending and i gotta dash SOOO im just gonna say i tag anyone who sees this and would like to do it! this is your open invitation < 3

#tag game #tagged #personal

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frostcorpsclub · 1 year

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Staple food and common dishes

Medical practices

Gardens

Traditional clothes and items

For Winterbeings or Elves

(Have fun love :))

OR more like BOTH MWAHHA I'll reblog and add on the elf portion tomorrow

Winterbeings

Food

To reiterate context snowciety as i like to call it isnt a thing until like decades into the future, so its a given that many humans from many different cultures have been turned into frostbitten.

That being said they'll often recreate many different kinds of dishes only with cannibalistic substitutions.

Though there are also many unique examples

This is only for Winterbeings who prefer their food to be cooked, raw is actually much more beneficial but cooked food isn't harmful. Many will just devour a body bones and all.

Winterbeings get no nutrients from regular human food like vegtables. Animal products can extend energy in an emergency but its a bit like making your dog go vegan, maybe they can survive but they won't be healthy or happy whatsoever

There are groups of Winterbeings who want to be as ethical as possible and despite having no choice but to eat humans want to treat them with respect.

These communities often live intermingled with humans and act as protection and compansionship in exchange for the corpses of those who have passed from natural causes. They'll even leave things like the bones, hair, and teeth for compost and so the families can have keepsakes.

Medical

Being a doctor to winterbeings is quite interesting. You'll note that (as of now) every ailment is either reasonably treatable at home

https://frostcorpsclub.tumblr.com/post/664220220900196352/winterbeing-illnesses-casefile-1

https://frostcorpsclub.tumblr.com/post/669856129099120640/winterbeing-illnesses-casefile-3

https://frostcorpsclub.tumblr.com/post/682792630088826880/winterbeing-illnesses-casefile-4

Or DEADLY AND HORRIFIC

https://frostcorpsclub.tumblr.com/post/666847555176595456/winterbeing-illnesses-casefile-2

Being immortal and nearly indestructable means that, luckily, many diseases were discovered from trial and error experimentations. When you're part of a species that eats bugs and flesh and....garbage for fun, in addition to brutal bloodsport, any non-self afflicated pain is taken very seriously.

Gardens

this is gonna be a short one for...obvious reasons

The "native" population of Winterbeings is located in Marie Byrd Land on the continent of Antarctia meaning that gardens are esentially impossible there.

However, there are some options. For those living on the antarctic islands or pennisula nearby can enjoy the small green pleasures of hairgrass, lichens and pearlwort. The latter being favored and common for wedding bouquets.

Traditional Clothes and Items

These fuckers make the most useless winter clothes you'll ever wear in your life. They really enjoy the aesthtetics of fur lined coats, pants, and boots but the fuctionality of these would be a detriment to their own survival. So these are often made from very thin and breathable material.

On the other hand, for those living in places where it gets hot, Frostbitten at least have to dress even less in the summer months. This can be difficult for those who have integrated into more conservative socieites and some chose to go into a hiberntation like period of hiding during the summer.

On the other hand Winterbeings are incredible weapon makers. Since 50% of their species is inhumanly large, along with the fact theres a lot of power behind their swings, weapons being proportional and well made is a necessity.

There are also weapons made to compliment a winterbeing's special ability. For example a snowperson with the power of Ice infusion might have a weapon thats made to inject poison, giving them an extra danger in battle.

#mkswinterbeings #mksfrostbitten #mkssnowpeople #lore #oc lore #universe lore #worldbuilding #cw cannibalism #tw cannibalism #cannibalism ment #winterbeinglore

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