#so much of what ive wanted seemed to kind of be that american thing like it always seemed like they had more freedom than me

[crunchycrystals]

mitski was so right when she wrote the second verse to strawberry blonde

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 || billy knight x nurse!reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || during his time in hospital, billy couldn't help but fancy the sweet but headstrong american nurse taking care of him. it would've been harmless if it weren't for your own growing crush on your patient: the quiet, gentle man with those brown eyes that made your heart flutter when he looked at you like that.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 9.5k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || smut (18+ ONLY!!, male masturbation and brief oral m receiving), medical ethics violation so kinda dubious consent but trust me it is very much wanted, fluff, some angst, touchstarved billy, american reader, mentions/discussions of psychosis and other psychotic patients, brief mentions of SA, hopeless romantic billy, yeah just lots of sweetness with some filth in the middle

"It's important that you stay calm."

That was what made him look at you, scared and confused, before he seemed to finally notice the hand you'd laid on his shoulder to try to soothe him: that was always a risk, touching them without permission, but he'd woken up with a start and been so clearly upset and disoriented, you didn't know what else to do.

Thankfully, as he looked at your hand on him, he stilled, hesitantly leaning back onto the propped-up bed.  The doctors thought it would be better for him if the bed was partially upright while he began to exit his coma, preventing too much blood pooling near the wound at his chest.

You took your hand away as he stilled, and he looked around the white-and-beige room.  "Where am I?" he asked.

"Saint Anne's, South London," you answered.  He raised an eyebrow at you and you figured why he asked.

"Did you think you'd somehow woken up in America?  Because of my accent?" you snorted.

He blinked self-consciously; "Err— I guess not."

"You wouldn't be the first," you assured him.

"What's an American nurse doing in London anyway?" he wondered.

"Not much," you shrugged, "just healing the sick, feeding the hungry— generally being a saint."

He smirked a bit, and you smiled at him in return.

“I’ll be your day nurse while you’re here,” you explained, “so if you need something, you can press this button here— and it’ll be me that comes, most of the time, if I’m not too busy and have to send somebody else.  Anything you need, I’ll do my best to help you, alright?”

A moment’s hesitation was followed by a nod, and he seemed too nervous to even look right at you— he would take these little glances over you, then up at your face, then back down to his bed again.  He wiped his fist under his nose quickly.

“William, is it?”

“Erm, Billy,” he corrected.  “Jus’ Billy.”

He cleared his throat dryly as his voice cracked, and you tilted your head.  “Would you like some water?”

He nodded again, and thankfully you already had a cup of chilled water ready for him— the big kind with a handle and straw, and markings on the side so you could monitor how well he was hydrating.  You picked it up and held it for him, guiding the bendy straw to his chapped lips so he could drink.

You knew already what kind of patient he’d be— the kind who didn’t like to ask you for anything, so you had to figure it out on your own.  There were definitely more like that here than back in America where you’d first started nursing; patients in the States seemed to have a much easier time asking for what they needed.  Here, there was usually some rigamarole to get them to admit they needed something— unless what they needed was painkillers, everyone’s pretty vocal about that.

“Is that better?” you asked quietly as you took the cup away, and Billy swallowed as he nodded.  “I’ll set it here where you can reach it, just be careful with that IV,” you explained.  “How’s your pain?  Is your chest hurting you?”

“N-no, it’s fine,” he promised, “can’t feel a thing… I’m guessing that won’t last long, though.”

You nodded in agreement.  “They’ve still got you on the good stuff.  They’ll switch you to Tylenol by the end of the day,” you explained.

“Afraid I’ll become an addict?” he assumed.

“Not quite,” you chuckled, “afraid you’ll get too constipated— side effect of the morphine.”

Billy choked, face turning a little pinker.  “O-oh.”

You only rolled your eyes in amusement as you turned around to fiddle with one of his monitors.  Patients, and Brits, were pretty shy by your standards; you preferred to be brutally honest, because there isn’t much need for prudishness in a mental ward.  “If your heart rate gets too high, or too low, it’ll page me,” you explained.  “Anything else, press this button here and I’ll be on my way— got it?”

“Yeah,” Billy hummed, “thanks.”

“Oh, don’t thank me,” you dismissed, “it’s just my job, and I love it.  I’ll be back to check on you later, but Nurse Tilly’s bringing you lunch at noon.  You’re not vegetarian, are you?”  He shook his head.  “Great!  Do you want the TV on?  Oh, uh, the telly, I mean…”

He shook his head again, and you nodded, leaving the remote on his bedside table in case he changed his mind.  You could feel his eyes on you as you left, somehow, and his image was still in your mind as you shut the door behind you.  Even as you went about the rest of your shift, checking in on your old patients and meeting some new ones, Billy in room 3041 was in your thoughts.

You didn’t know too much about the circumstances that brought him to your hospital— no one did, because he’d refused to tell police or paramedics who stabbed him.  His chart gave a colorful history— psychotic breaks, episodes of delusion and paranoia, on and off medication for years— but his behavior was so… gentle.  And very few of the people you’d encountered in this line of work were dangerous, despite the harmful stereotypes; but Billy was even more delicate than the usual, even more reserved.  Maybe he’d brighten up a bit when he wasn’t freshly awake from surgery.

Shaking the thoughts of him away and trying to focus on work, you figured it was just a little infatuation with a handsome patient— happens to everyone, right?

//

It had taken quite the effort to get the woman to sit down— she’d been pacing and chewing her nails, and you finally convinced her that it would be better if she was sitting, and she did.  After dodging some questions and looking around at the space behind you as if something was there— which, yes, was kind of unsettling but something you got used to— she finally got on with it and told you why she’d come to the hospital.

"They've put wires in me," she whimpered.  

"I've never heard of that happening before," you admitted.  "I wasn't even sure if aliens are real…"

"They are," she insisted.  

"And how do you know there are wires in you?  Did you see them put in?" you asked.  If she said yes, you'd know her hallucinations were severe, but she shook her head; you took a note of that on her chart.

"I can feel them," she replied instead.  "I can feel the electricity.  They're making me like— like an antenna.  For their ships, y'see?  And it hurts."

Your heart twisted.  "That would be terrifying," you agreed, "and painful—"

"Please, someone's got to take their wires out," she begged.

"Hold on," you tried to soothe her, "I'll check for entry wounds first, okay?  To see if I can tell where they've put them in."

She shakily nodded, looking down at the floor where her feet shuffled around on fleck-patterned tile.

You carefully lifted her hands to examine her fingertips and wrists.  "I haven't seen anything yet," you offered her quietly.

"Th-they hide them," she explained, "so the doctors can't see."

"Tricky, those aliens," you frowned as you nodded thoughtfully.  "They don't want you to get any help, do they?"

She shook her head. 

"But we can help you," you promised.  "If we can't find the wires this way, we should do a CAT scan."

"What's tha'?" she asked suspiciously.

"Just a bunch of X-rays taken all at once," you explained.  "If there's anything metal in you, it'll right up.  They are metal wires, right?" 

She nodded, already seeming to soothe a little at the prospect of a surefire way to find the wires she was feeling inside her.  It made you feel better, too, that you could help her somehow just by listening.

"I'll have the doctors give you a thorough scan," you nodded with a smile, "and we can see what we find, okay?"

It seemed like a great idea at the time.  You started to question it now that it was a few hours later and Dr. Humphries was glaring down at you.

"You ordered a CAT scan for a woman with schizophrenic delusions?" he snapped, looking up from the chart and back at you with a red face and flared nostrils.

"Uh, well—" you started to defend yourself.

"She doesn't need an MRI, she needs to be fucking medicated!" the doctor spat at you. 

Straightening your back, you frowned as you took offense to his tone. "You think I don't know that?" you returned with just as much intensity as he'd thrown at you.  "She's not going to take any pills we give her if we don't take her seriously.  A CAT scan will take a half hour and it might give her some peace of mind."

"Believe it or not, nurse, the purpose of that million dollar machine is not 'peace of mind'."

"Don't you mean million pound?" you rolled your eyes.

"No— you're such a dolt, I know if I'd said that you'd've asked how I knew what it weighed," he sneered, all too proud of his wit no matter how minimal it was.

From inside his room, Billy watched the argument unfold; he couldn't hear much, but he could see you crossing your arms and puffing your cheeks and getting right back in the face of the man in the white coat while he barked at you.  Another nurse was tending to his linens, and she caught a judgemental glance of the spat outside before shaking her head.

"Quite American, isn't she?" the nurse scoffed.  "Can't back down from a fight— or keep her mouth shut, ever."

Billy smiled a little.  

"And she's got no clue how to make a cuppa, either," the nurse added, "can't even use a kettle.  Not sure how she plans to find a husband if she can't figure that out!"

Billy felt his chest warm, and not in the painful way he was used to with his healing wound.  He didn't think you'd have much trouble at all.

//

He could tell you were in a worse mood than usual when you came in— even though he could also tell you were trying to hide it.  “How are you feeling today?” you asked him, a little exasperation tinting your tone.

“Better,” he nodded.

“Not too much pain?  Any soreness?” you continued interviewing him, but his chest deflated a bit as he watched you go around the room without ever really looking at him— you were just going through the motions, he was just another patient.

“Are you alright?” he asked you, and it seemed to break you out of your trance.  You looked at him, and you looked tired— not something he’d tell you, because it would sound like he was saying you looked bad, which you didn’t.  You looked a little sad, really, in a breezy sort of way like you were trying to shake it off.

“Oh, I— I’m fine,” you promised.

"Is that doctor giving you trouble again?" he wondered.  The question seemed to catch you off guard, before you glanced down shyly and then over your shoulder at the window into the hall.  

"You saw that, huh?" you noticed.

"He seems like an arse," Billy decided.

"He's not so bad," you sighed, "he's really smart— problem is he knows it, and he thinks it makes him better than everyone.  Thinks us nurses are basically just maids, too, or secretaries.  I swear, if he walks into the break room one more time and asks where his tea is, I'm telling him it's in the fucking harbor."

Billy snorted at your comment, stammering through his next question.  "Don't have anything against Brits, do you?  'Cause you picked a bad place to live."

You sighed, stopping your work for a moment.  "Well… no, I don't.  But I do have a bone to pick, I guess.  I moved here for a guy— this amazing, too good to be true guy.  Thought we were gonna get married and stuff.  I only thought that 'cause he told me so!  But he, uh… he had a few of us going, actually.  I was the only one who moved this far to be with him.  But after I found out, I didn't have anywhere to live, and I can barely make rent as it is so I can't afford a ticket home… so, yeah.  Stranded across the pond.  Because of some fucking guy."

Billy shrunk a bit inside as he looked at you— he could tell you were trying to be casual and silly about it, to hide how much you were still hurting.  "We-we're not all like that," he blurted out, and you looked up.  He felt even more stupid for saying it now that you were looking at him.  "Englishmen," he clarified.

Your lips slowly curled into a smirk.  "Not all juggling a half-dozen girlfriends at once?" 

"Some of us are lucky to just get one!" Billy agreed, and you laughed.  Your laugh was fucking angelic, he thought; it made him want to jump right out of this blasted bed and hug you, as bizarre as that would be.  Ever since he saw you he imagined you'd be nice to hold, but every day it only got worse— and you were so pretty and sweet, you probably had every patient wrapped around your finger.  You probably thought he was another dirty, sick stranger; you probably thought he was work.  And he couldn't even blame you.

"I guess I'll have to give y'all another chance, then," you shrugged.  Y'all.  How quaint.

"You can probably get a lot of guys' attention with that accent," he suggested.  And that arse.  But he didn't say that.  

"I don't really want a lot of guys' attention," you sighed.  "Just the one."

"Which one?"

"The right one."

His heart hurt because he knew the feeling, the one he saw on your face, the one that made your eyes sparkle differently for a second.

"But I don't have much time for that anyways," you shifted topics quickly, "working all the time."

"Must be tough," he nodded.

"I like it, actually," you corrected, "I always keep busy.  And the people here…certainly keep me busy."

He felt a little self-conscious when you said that.  "Sorry," he mumbled.

"No, not you!" you clarified quickly, leaning closer and reaching out apologetically like you might touch him again.  He wanted you to, so badly, but you didn't.  "I mean the staff more than anything.  The patients are what make me want to come back every day, even the tough ones."

"Am I one of those?" he wondered.

"No," you smiled.  "Don't tell, but you're my favorite."

Oh, you shouldn't have said that— it only hurt him more because he wouldn't let himself believe it.  "Bet you see crazies like me all the time," he shrugged dismissively.  

"Crazies? Yeah," you laughed lightly.  "But I've never met anyone like you."

His face flushed briefly and he looked down at his lap under the white woven blanket.

A page startled you out of the moment.  "That's my cue," you hummed.  "Ring if you need me, please."

He nodded and watched you dart away as quickly as you'd arrived, wishing he could keep you here forever but knowing it was better to let you help the others, too.

//

“Knock knock!” you greeted as you leaned into room 3282 to see the patient gathering her things.  It had been a while since you saw her in street clothes— not since you’d admitted her and ordered that infamous CAT scan— and she looked so much better than she had then.  Her hair was brushed and she was smiling at you, visibly less disoriented even when she was just standing beside the bed.  “I’m glad I could catch you before you left— I came as soon as I heard you were discharged.”

“I feel like we’re sort of meeting for the first time, now,” she explained.  “You saw me a few times the past couple days, but I wasn’t really myself…”

You nodded in understanding, and she bit her lip for a second; you could tell she was getting a little self-conscious remembering how dysregulated she was.

“It felt so real,” she breathed shakily.  “I could feel them watching me…”

“I know,” you nodded.  “That’s how powerful our minds are— everything we know comes from that squishy pink brain, so if it gets the wrong idea, it’s gonna convince you to believe just about anything.”

“You must think I’m an idiot,” she decided, “to ever believe that.”

“Not at all!” you promised.  “Listen, Miss Dougherty— it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.  You came here for help, that’s what you should be proud of.”

She nodded, but didn’t seem to really believe you, looking down at the floor.

“Honestly, people believe all kinds of ridiculous bullshit,” you announced, and the crude language got her attention if nothing else.  “Far, far too many people think that the Earth is flat, or that the polio vaccine could cause autism, or that immigrants are somehow both lazy and stealing jobs— or that you can look like Kim Kardashian with just some tea from the internet and portion control.”

She laughed a bit, and you laughed too, even though you were perfectly serious.

“At least we can give you medication for believing what you did!  Those people just have to live with it, that’s the really sad thing.  You take one of these with breakfast every day and you can be normal,” you explained as you pointed at the bottle in her hand, “they’re stuck with whatever they’ve got.  You’re the lucky one.”

“Thank you,” she nodded.  “I’ve been to hospitals before— but you really listened, even when I didn’t make any sense.”

“Hey, it made sense to me,” you shrugged, “I’d’ve been scared, too.  Keep up with the prescription, okay?  Don’t wanna have to see you here again— no offense.”

She laughed in agreement; “I will.”

//

He was halfway through watching something terribly mediocre on the telly when you came in; he jumped up to grab his fork and try to pretend that he’d been eating his dinner, but he started to frown shyly as soon as he caught your disapproving look.  “Billy, you’ve barely eaten it,” you noticed; it was obvious, with three quarters of the chicken breast still on the plate and the green beans untouched.  “Didn’t she bring that an hour ago?”

“Erm…”

“Is it the medication?” you asked, quieter, stepping further into the room.  “It can suppress your appetite.”

“D-don’t make me change to something else,” he blurted out, “I like this one.  I can actually think straight.”

You smiled patiently, and he couldn’t even look at you while you did it— you were so fucking pretty when you smiled like that, it hurt to look at it.  “I won’t make you change medications just because you haven’t finished your chicken, Billy.”

“I was worried Dr. Humphries might—” he began, cutting himself off with a hum.  “He said he was worried about me eating enough on this one, and that he’d change it if I lost any weight— b-but I like it…”

“We’ll just tell him you didn’t like the chicken,” you decided.  “If I bring you an extra slice of cake, will you eat that?”

He had to fight his smile from getting too big.  “I can try.”

“Easier to get down than dry chicken, that’s for sure,” you winked, putting the plastic cover back over his plate and grabbing the tray to set aside somewhere else.  “What are you watching?”

“E-erm, some melodrama, I think.  She’s been cheating on her husband with his evil twin,” he explained, just as the advertisement ended and an inquisitive musical sting indicated the show was back on.

“Don’t you hate when that happens, huh?” you offered sarcastically.  Your eyes stayed on the screen as you sat down on the edge of the bed, right by his hip; his heart fluttered with you so close, the warmth of your body just one pesky bedsheet away.  “Mind if I watch it with you for a minute?”

“N-no,” he assured, voice thin and wavering as he tried to act natural.  “Stay as long as you like…”

Unfortunately, you were interrupted almost immediately as a male nurse swung the door open— Billy somehow felt like he’d been caught doing something bad, when he wasn’t really doing anything.  The nurse said your name and you perked up.  “Been looking all over for you,” the nurse said, with a tilted grin that seemed a little flirtatious— maybe any smile would seem flirtatious when you’ve got perfectly white and straight teeth like those, and sparkly blue eyes and perfectly quaffed hair— Jesus, was this guy a model or something?

Billy hated imagining you spending time with this guy, selfishly.  “S-sorry,” you mumbled as you stood up, “I was just taking Mr. Knight’s dinner tray.”

“Tilly can do that,” the other nurse dismissed with a shrug.

“But she’s busy,” you noticed.

“Could you come out here?” the man asked you, and when you turned over your shoulder, Billy gave you a quick wave as his way of approving your departure.  You smiled at him one more time as you followed your coworker into the hall, just outside Billy’s door.

“Listen, I’ve been meaning to talk to you…” he heard the man’s voice continue, right before the door shut all the way.

Billy furrowed his brow and turned the volume on the telly down, hoping to hear the conversation better.  He could still barely make it out— and he was afraid if he muted the show, you’d notice.

“...since you came here, and actually, I was thinking—” he heard part of a sentence, but it sort of went in and out.  He couldn’t tell anything else for sure until he heard your voice again.

“I prefer to keep my work and personal life separate,” he heard you say, distinctly, and he couldn’t decide how to feel— excited, that you seemed to be turning his guy down for a date?  Or heartbroken that he would never have a shot with you because of this policy you held?

You never had a shot with her anyways, his inner voice told him.  Well, at least Mister Handsome Nurse Man didn’t either.  Misery loves company, or whatever.

//

It had been years since Billy felt something warm.  He was all too familiar with his hand, rough and shaky— all too familiar with using his imagination to get himself off.  Of course, back at his flat he had porn to ease the way, give him something to picture… here all he had was the telly in the corner and the unending thoughts of you you you.

Just the other day you'd leaned over his bed and he could smell your hair.  He wanted to hold your head and bury his nose in it, breathe the sweet scent of you.

Once he caught a quick glimpse down your shirt before he looked away, out of nervousness as much as gentlemanly discretion.  But he wasn't feeling so much a gentleman now, after waking up in the middle of the night from a dream of you in a more compromising position.

He'd never had an orgasm from a dream, only gotten hard and woken up unsatisfied.  There was a monitor clipped to his finger on his hand— so he took it off and moved it to the other, so he wouldn't have to worry about it or the IV while he did this.

He already had to bite his lip just from slipping his hand into the hospital-issue pants, just from wrapping some weak fingers around his aching cock.  He'd made a bad habit of wanking frequently at home— not much else to do when you're trapped and alone, and it was the only thing he liked doing just as much whether he was off his rocker, or semi-stable, or medicated.  Thankfully, he wasn't on the kind of medications that removed his libido: that, or his fancying of you was just that powerful.

The room was incredibly dark with the shades shut, only half the lights in the hallway on, but even then he couldn't make out any light except for the dots where the strings ran through the blinds.  He watched that window when his eyes were open, but sometimes he shut them— it didn't make much difference, either way all he saw was you.

As he jerked faster on his cock, letting his hand tighten occasionally, he pictured you climbing on the bed and straddling him, resting your hands on his chest (even though that would hurt).  Remembering your hand on his shoulder when he first woke up made it easier to imagine, but he couldn't even conjure up how you would feel inside, how your body would take him— he just had to think about how it would look.

He grunted your name to himself, shutting his eyes tight, trying so hard to think of the way you'd moan as your hips rocked above his.  He wanted to watch you as you picked up your pace, so desperate for pleasure that you couldn't slow down.  You'd be such a wild thing, he decided, just as brash and shameless in bed as you are at work— if not more.  

He would give anything to make you say his name in that exact way, that needy hungry way just like he mumbled your name now.  His hips were starting to rock up off the bed, and he imagined his skin clapping with yours as you moaned louder and louder.  As unrealistic as it was, he was imagining you showering him in praises, so good, Billy, you're so good, fuck! but he couldn't always get your accent right in his head. Please don't stop, god, just don't stop, need t'come—

"All yours," he answered you under his breath, "not gonna stop, feels so fucking good…"

And then he couldn't stop himself from imagining you admitting, in bed or otherwise, that you'd wanted this.  That you had thought of him the same way— fuck, what if you touched yourself, too?  That'd be too fucking rich.  Billy wasn't really sure if girls did that— obviously they did in porn, sometimes, but he knew a lot of that wasn't real.  He heard that most won't do anal, either, but that's different; touching yourself is more normal, more natural, and fuck how bloody natural you'd look on your back with your legs spread, rubbing your needy cunt, begging to be touched, desperate for a partner— for him, for Billy who could fill you so nicely and make you sound so pretty.

He was already so close, in part from having taken a few days off from this, mostly because the thought of you was making his cock fucking throb.

As he got closer and closer to the peak, his mind raced with images of you— but not in the poses of the girls in dirty magazines, not how he pictured you naked, no.  It was different.  The way you'd look in normal clothes, or dressed up for a date.  How it would feel to watch you sleep next to him as the sun's coming up through your bedroom window.  Not just his name on your lips in pleasure, but in casual conversation with others— my boyfriend, Billy— or in a cackling yelp as he made some joke you hated to laugh at, maybe while he tickled your ribs to see you smile— Billyyy, stop it!

Holding the back of your head while he kissed you, your little whimper as you tugged him closer because you needed more.  Putting a necklace on for you, hopefully one he'd bought or made for you, and touching the back of your neck.  Kissing you there— and everywhere— and hearing you hum with satisfaction.  Don't do that, we don't have time before— oh god, Billy, we'll be late if you do that… hm, okay, just a quick shag before dinner.  No wait— just a quick fuck before dinner— the American way.

The intimacy, which sex was only one of his favorite parts of, was what he was imagining.  Cuddling up on the sofa, sharing popcorn at the cinema, cooking for you… that's what he was imagining as he realised he was going to come.

He panted and squinted his eyes shut as he fucked his hand faster and faster, heart pumping hard and fast as well, hand shaky but determined as he chased pleasure right around the corner—

The door swung open and you burst in in a flash, running to his bed, but you stopped dead in your tracks as he pulled himself off— well, not in that sense, like he had been a half-second ago— rather, pulled his hand away and pulled the blankets up, scandalised and stammering.

"Oh, fuck m'sorry— I—" he began.

"N-no, I'm sorry," you insisted, looking down awkwardly, "I thought— your monitor, it was— I thought you were having a fucking heart attack."

His baking-hot face turned down sheepishly, and he noticed the thin sheet and blanket did nothing to hide his unsatisfied erection, the fabric clinging to every contour so you could see basically the whole thing.  He coughed and put his hands over himself atop the blankets.

"I should've knocked— but I was worried you needed immediate attention—" you explained hoarsely.

"I didn't know you were on tonight," he mumbled, like that mattered.  Not as if he wanted any other nurse running in on this.  But it was different, more shameful, knowing he'd just been getting off to the thought of you.

"Wasn't supposed to be, but someone asked me to— doesn't matter," you shook your head.  "Sorry to burst in on you…"

"I wasn't…" he began, questioning if he should say it but going on anyways.  "I wasn't doing… what you probably think I was."

"I-it's nothing I haven't seen before, Billy," you promised, seeming a little surprised, if not irritated, by his obvious lie.  "You're a free man, got every right to take care of yourself—"

"Don't—" he pleaded, before he interrupted himself with a mumbled, "Jesus…"

"I'll go," you decided, "and leave you to it—"

"Christ!" Billy added, almost as if he were just now finishing the curse.  "S'not like I could… do that now, is it?"

"Seems you've still got everything you need to do it," you smirked, and he choked.

"God, don't tease me, said m'sorry an' all," he pouted.

"Not teasing," you shrugged.  "It's natural, everybody does it."

Even you?  "Y-yeah, s'pose…"

"Not much else for you to do here anyway, stuck in bed… can't help if you get horny—"

"Not horny, okay?" he spat out suddenly, and defensively.  "M'just— god.  Just lonely."

He wouldn't normally admit something like that, but it was so late and his chest hurt in a sense totally unrelated to his wound.  

When he heard the door shut, he worried you'd just up and left.  How cold that would be, to leave him alone as he said how lonely he was.

He only knew you were still on this side of the door when you stepped up to his bedside again, your shoes clicking on the floor.

"You should go back to sleep," you noticed.  Then why'd you shut the door?

"I— even if I take care of it, I don't think I can," he admitted.  "Sometimes I have—"

"Nightmares," you finished.  "It's in your chart."

"Please stay," he whispered.  "It's easier with you here…"

"Sleeping, or…?"

"Sleeping!  God, sleeping," he coughed.  "I mean, both, but—"

"I can stay," you offered.

"That was the first good dream I've had in months," he told you, easier to confess these things in the dark.  "The one that made me… like that."

"Very good dream," you agreed with a smirk.

His oxygen monitor beeped softly behind it all.  "Y-yeah…" he mumbled.  "It was— well, I bet you know it was you."

"Oh— how would I know that?" you sighed.

"Because you must have been able to tell I'm proper mad about you," he explained, "aside from just mad."

"I… I wondered if you were," you replied, softer.  "I hoped you were."

Billy, unsure what to say, turned to look up at where he was sure your face was in the room— and he could barely see it, his eyes still readjusting from the door being opened.  Your features were softened when they were lit up in light blue by the monitors behind him.

"I came in here to take care of you," you promised with a whisper.  "It's my job.  Just tell me what you need."

"I need— god, I can't say it," he whined. 

"If you can't tell me, then show me."

Your hand rested for a second on his shoulder, and he couldn't stop himself from grabbing it.  After debating it for a moment, he pushed the blanket and sheet down again, and sighed with a wide open mouth as he guided your hand to his throbbing cock.  It bounced up into your fingers before he'd even finished putting it there, so needy for your attention, so greedy to be finished off after being brought up to the edge like that.  Billy had never had the patience or fortitude to tease himself, the closest he'd ever come to edging having been those times he was on a certain type of meds and could jerk off all day and never come. 

He had the exact opposite problem as he hesitantly let go of your hand and watched you do it yourself, slow and gentle brushes over him, almost reverent in the way you touched him where he needed you most.  He almost didn't want to let go of your hand, he wanted to keep holding it just for holding it's sake, but he wanted you to act on your own: to not feel trapped or forced.  You were so delicate about it— he was so worked up you absolutely didn't need to be that gentle, he probably would've still blown his load if you tried to tug the bloody thing off— and he could see in the dark how little sighs fell from your mouth as you stroked him.

"God, I'm not supposed to do this," you breathed.  "S'it sensitive?  Your heart rate's spiked again…"

"V-very," he murmured out.  "God, you're— god."

"Fuck— I'm really not supposed to do this," you repeated again.  "But I— I've been wanting to for a while… no one's gonna come in while I'm in here, but shit, if someone did…"

It would be a huge mess, for sure, but sort of hot.  Even better if it was somehow another patient who thought they were the only one with affections for you.  Even better if it was that nurse who was hitting on you.  "Never— fuck— wanked a patient before, right?"

You laughed.  "No, haven't given a hand job in years, actually— feels a bit high school, doesn't it?"

"Fuck, wouldn't know," he groaned.  He meant it both as in 'you wouldn't know because you're so good at this' and 'I wouldn't know because nobody was wanking me in high school'.  "Your hand f-feels good.  I-I don't deserve this, I definitely don't deserve this— pretty sure I'm dreaming actually—"

"No, it's real," you promised, "I know it's real, 'cause in my dreams I've never got my work uniform on."

"Y-you don't have your work uniform on in my dreams, either," he joked.

How desperately he wanted to reach out and touch you with one of his hands— it didn't even need to be somewhere scandalous, though he wouldn't mind a chance to feel you up under your shirt.  Even just to hold onto your hip, or even to hold your hand, would be so perfect right now.  But he didn't want to take this too far and ruin it.  It was already too good to be true.

"F-fuck," he sighed as your hand twisted gently when it reached the ridge of his head.  He couldn't remember the last time anything felt this good, just being touched by you.

"Like this?" you asked in a meek voice— how precious, you asking him how he wanted you to wank him.  Even just you asking made his toes curl under the blanket.

"Yes," he hissed, "l-like that… little slower, maybe?"

You followed his command, and his chest reverberated a groan.  He liked it best like this, savouring every second— normally he'd just be beating himself off senselessly by now, desperate to come, chasing pleasure with reckless abandon.  But this was so different, and he never wanted it to end, even if his balls were tight and aching with the need to release what he'd been holding in for much too long.

"I… I can't believe this is happening," he blurted out as he watched with better-adjusted eyes your movements in the dark.  Your pretty, tender hand squeezing his swollen tip, giving his whole length nice, long strokes.  

It was incredible enough, then you pulled your hand away— and he was about to whine pathetically, beg you not to stop, he even thrusted his hips up in the air in search of more— and spit in your palm quickly before getting back to it.

"Oh god," Billy moaned, his head falling back on his pillow as your hand smeared your saliva all along his hot skin.  Your strokes were smoother now, and you could grip him tighter without tugging the skin the wrong way— and he couldn't stop fucking moaning, couldn't stop himself from trying to buck his hips up and fuck your hand.  The sensation was incredible, but the raunchiness of it was what really did him in.  Spitting in your hand so you could jerk him off better, really giving him the proper treatment; his whole body was sort of overheated and numb at the idea that you cared so much about doing this right.  With a dry hand it felt more like you were doing him a favor, but after doing that he was sure you wanted this for your own reasons.  He couldn't imagine what those would be, but he dared not question them.

"How's that feel?" you asked, almost clinical in your tone, the same way you'd asked when helping him stand up or after giving a fresh dose of painkillers.  And yes, he had imagined something like this when you asked him that before, so good to know he was on the right track.

It was sort of silly that you asked when he couldn't stop moaning and writhing in the bed, but he nodded as he answered: "R-really fucking good.  You're so good…"

He heard you hum a bit, a tiny pleased laugh, and he whined pathetically.  You seemed to be revelling in how little you could do to him to make him so desperate.

"So good," he said again under his breath, cock pulsing in your grip.  He was so close but he couldn't let it go yet, he couldn't finish now and just have you clean him up and go: he'd fight it off all night if it meant keeping you here, feeling you, being pleasured by you this way.

"I— I'll get fired if they catch me," you reminded him.  "But I just— sorry, I've been wondering about your cock for a while."

Jesus, she keeps saying things like that and I'll lose it in a second.

"And it's bigger than I thought."

Jesus!  He screwed his eyes shut tight in hopes of staving it off further— he didn't want this to end, you'd just barely started.

"I'm so fucked, fuck, might as well— oh god, you know the saying, right?" you prompted.  "In for a penny—"

"In for a p— oh, fuck, fuck!"

You'd bent down and captured him in your mouth, still stroking at the base with your hand but bobbing your head on the rest.

"Baby," he whined, bucking up into that perfect wet heat encompassing him, "baby, I'll come, god, I'm so sorry— I'll fucking come—"

You hummed around him.  You didn't even stop, didn't even flinch, as he began to spray his come on your tongue.  He grabbed your head and tilted his own back with a loud moan— dangerously loud— as his whole body seized up for a second.  Each wave of it seemed to hit harder than the last, especially when you sunk your lips down further and he could feel you swallowing it, god you were so sweet and you acted like a proper slut given the chance.  He couldn't have made you more perfect if he built you himself.

"Oh, fuck," he sobbed, looking down at you in the dark again, petting your hair, keeping you there just a bit longer as he basked in the warmth of your mouth.  Drool was sliding down his cock and balls in droplets, maybe some of it was his come you hadn't gotten down.  "Fucking perfect," he blurted out.

He felt you smile slightly around him, before you carefully slid your mouth off of his cock and popped back upright again.  "There you go," you said chipperly as if you'd just tied his shoes for him or something— not like you'd just given him his first non-self-induced orgasm in years and easily one of the best of his life, with only your hand and a couple seconds of a blow job.

"I— fuck," he choked, "you— thank you, I— oh my god… I'm sorry, I—"

"Sorry?" you repeated.  "What for?"

"Just— dunno, m'sorry, if I made you think you had to do that…"

"Well I had to do something to get you back to sleep," you joked, making his face heat up even more.  "Of course I didn't have to— actually, I think it might be, um, illegal, so… don't tell, I guess."

As if he could even imagine doing anything that would interfere with the chance it could happen again.  He had no idea if it would happen again either way— but he didn't care, he was still riding the high from it happening at all.  "I— I tried not to come that fast, but your mouth—" he began awkwardly.

"It's sexy," you promised.  "It's cute."

He blinked bashfully, as if he had any right to be bashful now.  "You're sexy," he returned, "really, really sexy, god.  You know how many guys' fantasies you just fulfilled?"

"Not interested in many guys' fantasies," you quipped.  "Just the one."

He beamed.  "Which one?"

"C'mon, Billy, I just swallowed your jizz, don't be coy with me," you frowned.

"S-sorry…"

You leaned down and gave him a gentle peck on the cheek.  "I've gotta get back to work—"

He grabbed your head and forced a kiss on your mouth, hungrily slipping his tongue between your lips and groaning as you relaxed your jaw to let him in.  

He hadn't kissed like this in ages, either, and the last girl he'd managed to go home with after some pub crawling hadn't even kissed him at all; he groaned against your mouth as he moved his hands from your face to your neck, your waist, your back… anywhere he could reach, he wanted to touch you.

He got lost in it instantly, you had to push pretty hard on his shoulders to peel him off, and he cleared his throat nervously.  "S-sorry," he said again, "I— I just had to kiss you, sorry."

"Even after that?" you chuckled.

"Especially after that."

"Even with the, you know, taste?"

"Oh," Billy smiled, "so that's what that funny flavour is…"

"You never tasted it before?" you realised.

"No," he frowned, "why would I?"

"I dunno— I've tasted mine," you shrugged.

"Oh— Christ," Billy choked.  He wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to stop imagining you pulling two fingers out of your cunt after using them to make yourself come, bringing them to your slack lips and kitten-licking the cream off your hand…

"Really gotta get back to work now," you insisted, "try to get some rest—"

"Wait," he begged as he grabbed your wrist.  "Stay a little longer— we can just talk, if you want— I should return the favour though, shouldn't I?  Are you, erm… are you turned on at all after that?  If you stay I can help you, too— you can get in the bed with me and I'll make love to you—"

You snorted out a laugh.  "We don't have time for that, Billy, I've already been in here too long, there are other patients—"

"Don't go yet," he insisted again, squeezing your hand in his.

"What more do you need?" you asked, and the question made his heart jump.

"Just some time with you," he explained.  "Just— was that— are we—?"

He stopped as you leaned in and kissed his face again— the side of his nose specifically— gently.  "I'll check on you again in the morning before I go, okay?"

He pouted a little, reaching up to hold your shoulders for a second, before nodding and relaxing back into his bed.

You tucked him in carefully and encouraged him once more to get some rest.  "I'll be back just before shift change at seven," you assured.

He fell asleep so quickly, so exhausted even when his mind was wired, that it only felt like a few moments before he woke up again with a jump as the door opened.  He expected to see you come in, but he frowned at the back of Nurse Tilly, bringing the breakfast cart.  "Good morning, Mister Knight!" she greeted, and he sighed as he glanced up at the clock: 8:30.  He'd slept right through shift change.

"Morning," he greeted her flatly.

//

"I've got good news," the doctor smiled at Billy, tilting his head; somehow it almost seemed condescending.  "You're cleared for discharge.  You’ve healed well and you’re responding just how I’d hoped to the new medication.”

“But…” Billy started to protest.

“What’s the matter?” Dr. Humphries wondered.  

“Could I stay longer?”

“Erm, well… it’s a hospital, not a hotel, Mister Knight,” he frowned.  “What makes you want to stay?”

“I just— is my nurse here?” Billy asked instead.

“Which one?” the doctor asked before seeming to realise something.  “The American?!”

“Err…”

Dr. Humphries scoffed quickly.  “She’s just had a twenty four hour shift, she won’t be back until Thursday.  You certainly can’t be here another two nights with no medical need for hospitalisation.  I’m guessing you’d hoped to say goodbye?”

“Yeah,” Billy nodded.

“And you were hoping to ask her on a date as well, I presume?”

Billy choked, glancing self-consciously at the other nurses present— one of which was the handsome male one from before.  That face had a sort of sneer on it— subtle, but noticeable— as if to say yeah, good luck with that, mate.  “I— I just wanted to thank her,” Billy lied.  He honestly hadn’t been sure if he’d ever get the courage to ask you out, but now he’d never know.

“I’ll pass along the message for you,” the doctor offered, though he didn’t sound too enthused about it.

//

Google, delete history, chew nails, repeat.  illegal for a nurse to have sex with patient, can you lose your nursing licence for sexual contact at work, is masturbating a mental patient crime UK...

The search results were a mix of inconclusive and unencouraging.  They kept talking about why you shouldn’t have sex with patients— as if you didn’t know— but rarely clarified the exact consequences of your exact situation.  You didn’t know if the hand job counted as sex, anyways, or if it really mattered since you were both consenting adults of sound mind (well, some not quite as sound as others, but still), or if this rule really only applied to doctors who had a genuine power over patients in a way nurses didn’t exactly— they just gave more and more scoldings to anyone considering ‘beginning a relationship’ with a patient.  They gave examples that were obviously violations— like a doctor who was tried for sexual assault after convincing a patient that an invasive physical exam was necessary when it was actually elective and not related to their condition, or a nurse who was fired after touching an unconscious patient, stuff like that.  Billy had wanted you to touch him, that much you knew, he put your hand there himself; god, just the memory made you shiver, and you shook your head as you cleared your history again.  There was no real chance anyone would see what you’d been searching up, but the shame that burned in your gut every time you saw your own history was worth avoiding.

The really concerning thing was how little, after all that Googling, you actually regretted it.  Yes, you were fully aware at the time how risky it was, why it was a bad idea, what would happen if you were caught.  But for all this searching up about nurses and patients, it didn’t feel like that at all… it just felt like two people with a basic human instinct surrounded by insanely complicated circumstances.  

It wasn’t like you at all, either, and not just because you’d never made an advance on a patient before: that was obvious.  You usually didn’t do that much even with your actual dates, even with guys you’d met under exactly the right conditions.  Usually, a hand on yours guiding you there would make you shudder and jump away; usually, you wouldn’t even think to touch somebody like that on the first date.  You hadn’t even gone on one date with Billy, though the amount of time you spent imagining it was almost like you were trying to delude yourself into thinking you had.

You’d been daydreaming more and more since you met him about that sort of thing, about what it would be like if you met in some random way after he was discharged from some other hospital, one of those cute ways like in the movies where he helps you get something from the top shelf at the grocery store or you find his lost dog or he just sees you on the street and has to tell you that he thinks you’re beautiful—

Groaning, you shut your laptop and stood up; you were gonna be late for work if you kept torturing yourself with these fantasies.  

// 

Oh god, I’m actually mental— more than usual, he realised as he stood there, holding the pathetic arrangement of cheap daisies; the plastic around them crinkled as he relaxed his grip slightly from the sadness sinking in his gut.  She does me a favour, takes care of me for nearly a week and wanks me off once and I start stalking her— she’ll think I’m a creep.

He’d been waiting all morning by one of the entrances to the ward, hoping to catch you as you walked back in to work on Thursday, but as the hours passed he became more aware of how disturbing his behaviour really was.  You probably knew you wouldn’t see him again when you did that, that was probably why you did it— so you wouldn’t have to worry about exactly this happening, about him wanting more from you.  Hadn’t he taken enough?

Slumping his shoulders, he stood up from the bench and contemplated what to do with the flowers.  He was about to toss them away when he saw someone exit the building, an older woman, crying into a handkerchief as she talked on the phone.  “He’s gone,” she informed whoever was on the other end of the line.  “They just told me— he went this morning.”  

“Ma’am?” he asked her, not quite getting her attention at first.  He stuck the flowers out towards her and she looked at him with a hint of confusion.  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“O-oh… thank you…” she breathed, and he nodded at her as he turned and stuffed his hands in his pockets on his way towards the car park.  “Y-yes, sorry, someone just gave me flowers…” she continued as she talked on the phone, harder to hear as he walked away, “no, I don’t know him— some man outside the hospital— they’re daisies…”

He smiled a little to himself as he hopped across the street, jaywalking in a break between cars zipping by.  He’d nearly turned the corner when he heard your voice.

“Billy?” you noticed him, smiling wide as he turned to look at you, standing on the street— walking to work, apparently.  You were wearing your uniform already, and he’d almost missed it, even with how much he’d been dreaming about seeing you any other way.

“O-oh, erm, hi,” he stammered, wondering if he should pretend it was a coincidence he ran into you.

“You’re… you’ve got jeans on!” you noticed, and he looked down at his outfit— just the aforementioned jeans and an old t-shirt, with his hoodie on top for the chilly weather.

“Not much of an improvement from what you’re used to,” he mumbled nervously, rocking back on his heels.

“No, you look good,” you insisted.  “H-healthy, I mean— maybe I shouldn’t have said that, it could sound… forward.”

“Forward?” he repeated.

“Well, I was hoping to talk to you today,” you admitted, chewing the inside of your cheek.  Oh god, I’ve heard this talk before— ‘I like to keep my work and personal life separate’.  “I wanted to apologize.”

“Eh?”

“I shouldn’t— we can’t— I’m sorry,” you started over a few times, “if I exploited any… dynamic, that we had.  I don’t want you to think that because I’m your nurse, you couldn’t say— that you can’t say ‘no’ to me.”

“You’re not my nurse anymore,” he noticed, “I’m not a patient— I’m…”

He wanted to say it quickly, before he lost the courage, but with you staring at him expectantly he couldn’t keep his thoughts in order and he sort of just spit it out all at once.

“I’mjustsomeblokewhocan’tstopthinkingaboutyou,” he rushed.

“Huh?” you frowned, understandably unable to parse what he’d said.

“Oh, Christ,” he groaned, “doesn’t matter— y’don’t need to apologise, i-if anything I was gonna thank you again.”

“Well, you don’t need to do that, either,” you mumbled quietly, a shy smile crossing your face.  “We’ll call it even.  You got a happy ending and I get to keep my job.”

“Not quite even,” he recalled, face getting warm as he pictured exactly what he’d have to do to make what happened that night completely fair.  “I want something else.”

“Oh…?” you wondered, tilting your head.

“Your number, maybe?” he finally asked, heart pumping dangerously fast, and you smiled.

“Okay,” you agreed.

“A-and I could call you sometime.”

“Okay,” you repeated.

“And ask you to dinner.”

You smiled wider.  “Okay.”

“O-or I could just ask you now…”

“Okay,” you laughed.

“But maybe I should wait!” he decided suddenly.  “Maybe it’s better to do it later— I don’t know, I don’t do this very often…”

“I noticed,” you smirked, and he blinked at you shyly.

“I-I’m not totally helpless, y’know, I got you flowers,” he informed you proudly.

“You did?  Where are they?” you asked.

“E-erm, over there,” he pointed across the street, and you raised an eyebrow in confusion.  “I’ll get you different ones, better ones—”

“I don’t want flowers, Billy,” you replied, “I just want you to come pick me up when I get off today— my shift’s over at—”

“I know,” he interrupted with a beaming smile, “I’ll meet you by that door and we can go somewhere nice.”

“How about your flat?” you recommended.

“W-well… it’s not very nice…” he admitted, biting his lip as you stepped closer.

“I bet I’ll like it,” you purred, and he couldn’t resist the urge again— he grabbed your face and kissed you, way too needy and passionate for the seemingly-mundane situation here on the street by the hospital. But you hummed into it and kissed him back; he knew he couldn’t blame that first kiss on it being the middle of the night anymore, being all sleep-deprived and desperate, because he felt the exact same way at eight in the morning on a Thursday in the middle of the pavement.

Again, you had to push him back gently to cue him to stop, and he looked at you as your eyes fluttered open and your bitten lips smiled at him. 

“Not gonna run me late to work, are you?” you challenged.

“No,” he promised, “I-I really want to, but no.”

“That’s a shame,” you jokingly pouted as you lowered yourself from your tiptoes and started to cross the street.  “See you tonight!” you called as you went on your way, and he wanted to say something back— something smooth, but anything would do, really— but he just got mesmerised watching you go, knowing the next time he saw you would be for a date. 

He could hardly believe it was real, that he’d gotten this lucky, but he decided not to question that anymore and just accept whatever gift from the universe this was supposed to be.  He was almost tempted to just stand outside and wait for you for your entire shift, but he decided instead that he could at least go and pick out some new flowers for you, despite what you’d said about not wanting them… better safe than sorry.

[sillyyuserr]

Not exactly an analysis but possible parallels/basic comparisons <3

Comparing none other than terukane (teru x akane) and dangerously yours masquerade, a 1944 podcast/radio show, in summary is about a french spy named Catherine that is sent to make an American man Rudolf Stephan fall in love with her so she can kill him and gain information, but in the end she falls in love with him too, but he makes her think he never loved her so she can complete her assigned mission (or something like that?)

i saw stuff ab terukane and dangerously yours on tiktok and thought it was so interesting so i wanted to make a thing ab it 😭 FYI this is gonna be alotta words and like zero pictures so turn ur brightness down and don’t kill ur eyes

just the basis of these two are incredibly similar, two people from opposing sides forming an unlikely bond, originally unwanted but now shared?

Comparison/Possible parallel 1:

the line

“if i betray you, i betray myself. if i betray him, i betray my country. my country is very dear to be.”

“dearer than i?”

“… no not dearer than you..”

feels not like a parallel, but so uncomfortably fitting for them. (Akane being in Cathrine’s place and teru being in Rudolf’s place) if taken from akane’s place, “if i betray you, i betray myself, if i betray him, i betray my country, my country is very dear to me” easily we could associate “country” with aoi or one of akane’s supernatural duties or wtv he does with his clock keeper shit

from teru’s place, “dearer than i?” The “i” would pretty obviously be teru

the basis of being in between sides, not knowing which to chose but regardless of which you end up choosing you’re fucked one way or another is a common ground for both catherine and akane, especially with what happened in chapter 112

Comparison/Possible parallel 2:

the line

“I will betray you”

“If you do, you will betray yourself at the same time”

“yes… yes i know”

also feels eerily similar to them aswell. Again akane in cathrine’s place and teru in rudolf’s. This also especially relates to what happened in the “betrayal” part between teru and akane. Again relating to akane not knowing which side he should choose.

in summary, the doomed lovers cathrine and rudolf have so much in common with teru and akane its kind of crazy. how could one possibly look at them and not think of terukane? Akane/Cathrine being inbetween sides (the two sides being their counterpart and their duties) and in the end choosing their duties but still hoping for a seemingly unachievable chance at their counterparts. Ive specifically avoided using words like “coded” or “heavily implied” because i’ve never been completely sure,

Taking it into account, AidaIro are Japanese, and in japan homosexuality isn’t exactly normalized. yes queer people are in japan, they are everywhere and always have been but queer people in japan often conceal their sexuality and from what ive seen simply mentioning homosexuality in the wrong crowd is frowned upon (although don’t take my word for it 100%, i don’t live in japan)

And from what ive seen, AidaIro are pretty “traditional”. Literally name one female character without a male love interest that isnt shijima mei or tiara.

although the whole “lemon and akane” thing happened, it really was just for fun and jokes, although it seems to be a running joke in their friend group that “akane likes lemon” so make of that what you will

queer people being in tbhk is very much possible, we’ve seen panels of boys wanting to be teru’s boyfriend, nene blushing at sakura and claiming she was duped by her gorgeousness, mitsuba constantly accusing kou of wanting to do “pervy” stuff with him, akane mentioning his confusion on how teru can attract both genders (when their current topic had nothing to do with that? Are you the male attracted to him akane?) and natsuhiko’s entire character, but the likeliness of there being multiple queer characters is much lower than just one, of course im not opposed to there being multiple, the more the merrier, but we need to remember homosexuality is not normalized, and in some asian countries homosexuality blatantly doesn’t exist. like you could propose to someone of the same sex and people would say “omg such bffs!!” and we don’t know much about AidaIro besides they’re both girls, both Japanese, one’s a writer and one’s an illustrator.

although this alone does not down-right dismiss the queer implications, it still makes you think. We can never be too sure

Make of this what you will :3 ive been thinking ab compiling every possible queer implication or hint in tbhk but i feel like that sounds stupid and no one would read it

[nerves-nebula]

Sorry just saw a post saying you do actually DO get taught media literacy and critical thinking in English classes and I was homeschooled until high school, but Ive also been to three different high schools across two states of america- which isn’t a lot but is more than most people get (assuming that most people go to one high school for four years instead of switching schools every year) and let me tell you. The English teachers almost always had the same problem. And I generally liked them all! English wasn’t a class I super hated!!!

Even my favorite English teachers didn’t really end up fostering a love of reading into the material or actually critically thinking about stuff.

What they all liked to do was talk about and lead you into THEIR interpretation to the point of basically dismissing any other readings. At best you’d get a “that’s a good point too, but I was thinking of something else” and at worst they’d basically just dismiss it with a clear lack of interest. As if you didn’t “get the point” for focusing on something else.

I remember this because there were a lot of times when I was bursting to talk about the parallels id drawn of the assignment to my personal experiences but I was too embarrassed or afraid or annoyed to because the few times i or anyone else tried to speak up the teachers were basically uninterested unless you hit on the specific reading they were obsessed with. At which point they’d talk at length about symbolism and stuff that, while interesting to me, was also hella annoying!!

My English classes made me afraid to get into academia because they all made it seem like there were one or two proper ways to read a story and if you didn’t immediately come to one of those conclusions then you’d be treated like you were stupid or hadn’t actually read the text.

This post also claimed that English classes teach you how to spot misinformation ???? The only thing even close to that would be history classes where we would sometimes discuss propaganda. Most of English class is reading assigned literature and then painfully sitting through the teacher trying to lead us into their interpretation. And sometimes you get to write things.

At MOST you’re gonna get the teacher telling you that something an author says is incorrect or a lie or that they’re biased but you don’t usually practice how to spot misinformation when you’re not prepped to find it.

I gained more critical thinking skills from being annoyed by the teachers readings and tearing them apart in my head than I did from any actual assignments. But that’s because I already cared about stories! So i wouldn’t have even had that if I didn’t already have some kind of interest in the classes subject matter!

Does all this stuff you’re supposedly taught in English class happen before high school?? What schools are you guys going to because from my experienced, American high school English classes (like a lot of classes) don’t really teach you shit unless you’re already interested in the subject.

I also think it’s pretty useless and mean spirited to imply people who didn’t learn that stuff were just idiots who didn’t pay attention. It’d be way more helpful to encourage people to want to learn stuff after school ends!! Not just because learning is fun but also because I feel like a lot of people see learning as something you can only do in schools & such and don’t see all the opportunities for self improvement past that!

Sorry I have no idea why a single one paragraph post bothered me so much, I think it’s cuz it’s past 10 pm 😭😭😭 so slightly annoying things lead to entire damn rants. I don’t even know if they were talking about American education I just was suddenly flooded with a ton of memories and barfed them out here.

[okaystoptellingmetomakeanaccount]

LESSER KNOWN STORIES ANY MAGICA FAN SHOULD READ I THINK

NO ROSA NO BARKS NO ARTIBANI

ONLY LESSER KNOWN COMICS

some scarpa will slip in im afraid this is difficult okay.

Thanks btw soony for the inspiration this is actually really fun

One of the earliest Magica stories, this one is from 1969. One of the most creative out there, especially for being such an early one. Also there’s a scene where Magica goes all scarface (i think, i have never watched that stuff i just heard he goes all shooty shoot) and thats quite amusing.

Really sweet comic. Everyone who only knows Magica from ducktales should read this comic to understand how much more complicated her character is in the original comics. It does such a great job at showing the other facets of her character in such a simple way. Don’t listen to the inducks review of m3gr1ml0ck (he’s almost always super based but not this time). Listen to the inducks review of Appie Aap (who is always based because he’s Appie Aap).

Kind of overrated in my opinion but Sarda’s characterization is PERFECTION. Story is average asf (though maybe i need to reread it) but all the little things are so incredibly well done. Molinari is great too of course.

It’s one of the recent more well known comics yeah okay but its mostly known because people thought Vian thought Etna was the Vesuvius (which they solved with a simple dialogue change in the German translation because it really was not that complicated guys) and it should be known for being a great comic instead. One day I will write a really long review about why it’s a masterpiece. Maybe. It perfectly manages to bring back the spirit of the Sarda written comics without some of the annoying quirks of his writing and with the fact that Bruno Enna is writing now and I love Bruno Enna guys robophobia is a masterpiece last hunt is a masterpiece i love bruno enna-

Magica really cares a lot about Ratface. You should read it.

Magica really cates about Ratface part 2. These two comics aren’t must reads but they’re good to help understand Magica and Ratface their relationship. (In italian comics at least. They seem to hate each other sometimes in Denmark)

Talking about Danish stories. Here. (Written by an American and drawn by a Dutchie. Egmont knows no borders) It IS quite well known, but tumblr here seems mostly familiar with Italian comics and this story has never been published in Italy, so I still think it deserves a mention. I was never a big fan of it, but all the inducksers seem to like it and i cant ignore its significance. So here it is i would still recommend.

Magica tells about her ancestor and her ancestor is lovely.

Magica talks about her ancestor and her ancestor is lovely part 2. (these ARE must reads!)

Magica turns herself into a floppy disk and everything you expect to happen happens. You want a typical fun but average Dutch comic? Then i’d recommend this one.

(I wanted to recommend another comic here but tumblr refuses to save it and ive been trying for what feels like hours so im giving up) (for some reason it did save at least this)

I really wanted to suggest more Danish stories but i have either not read them, theyre a gal for gladstone (aka not not well known) or theyre bad.

[bropunzeling]

If you’re still doing it - I would love to read “I had nowhere else to go” *collapses into a puddle of his own blood* for mattdrai!

ok ive had to think about this and the thing is ive talked to maggie several times about a rival spies type situation for them and i think. i think it would be SO good.

like maybe the first time they run into each other leon doesn't know that matthew is another operative - he's just this really handsome guy at the bar of the gala where leon needs to steal a thing. and leon has time before he needs to head upstairs, so why not flirt. why not accept a few grins from this handsome, funny guy, who keeps leaning into leon's space. makes a nice change from having to seduce the wives of crime lords, or arms dealers, or mi6 operatives. (that one wasn't necessarily a Have To, but.) this guy -- matthew, he says, as his fingers brush leon's wrist for a second longer than would be accidental -- has dimples and laughs at leon's jokes and looks at him like he can promise a night leon won't forget when a hurry.

which makes it so fucking infuriating when leon goes to do the job he meant to do, only to find the handsome guy at the bar is halfway out the window and holding the usb drive leon was supposed to lift. is saying, a little rueful, a lot smug, better luck next time, mr. draisaitl.

they keep crossing paths after that. brazil, singapore, south africa. sometimes he gets the better of leon, sometimes leon gets the better of him. he always addresses leon by name, never what's on leon's fake passport. he doesn't seem antagonistic -- just working for the americans, occasionally at cross-purposes. for all the times he's had leon down the barrel of a gun, he's only shot leon once.

he doesn't even know if matthew is his real name. he doesn’t know how much of that night was -- well, anything.

and then -- a mission goes sour. leon gets hurt -- the kind of hurt he can't deal with alone. he can’t get to his safe house. perhaps he's been compromised. but earlier that day, he saw a glimpse of a familiar silhouette coming out of a house not far from his target. the flash of a grin he still thinks about more often than he wants.

when the door opens, matthew doesn't ask questions, just lets leon stumble inside.

[safetycar-restart]

🎾 anon back with another angsty logan idea, so we haven’t discussed logan in the past! ds au but do you think back in formula 3 right before he met his dom now for a brief period of time he just had a horrible dom, didn’t really pay attention to what logan really needed and wanted so logan being so young just went along with it. he kind of like pierre just thought that it was the only was to do things so when he finally has a dom that is good for him and loves him he acts out a lot at first trying to set boundaries and bc his dom knows that they don’t really want to punish him hard. but that’s what he wants!!! he ends up getting really upset and asking his dom with tears rolling down his face “why won’t you punish!! ive been a bad boy!” and his dom ends up having to punish him but like lightly (like you make him sit in a corner or lightly spank him) bc if you do it hard it makes him even more upset thinking that he’s a really really bad boy :(. feel free to combine my last anon that i sent about logan in the beginning. have great rest of your night, toodles! 🎾

You know somehow even though I asked for both Logan and for angst, I never considered that I might get sent Logan angst… this is my own fault. And I am obsessed.

I definitely agree that Logan would start out F3 with a different dom, maybe a team Dom? It’s his first season in F3 and being an American, he already feels like an outsider so he doesn’t dare say anything about not getting along with his Dom.

I think that Logan LOVES talking to his Dom during scenes so much? And he doesn’t do it to be bratty, really he doesn’t, he just loves communicating like that? He wants to be able to talk and joke around and ask for a kiss. He’ll always listen to instructions and he doesn’t mean to be disrespectful. He just wants to connect!!!

His team Dom hates that about him. He makes Logan stay quiet the entire time, punishes him so harshly when he breaks the rules.

I also think that Logan responds MUCH better to positive reinforcement than to punishment? (Unlike Charles or max, who actually both respond a lot better to punishment, though in very different forms of course) his Dom doesn’t care about that though. He’s always being punished.

What Logan really needs is to be praised for his good behaviour far more than he needs to be punished for his bad behaviour. Especially because he so desperately wants to be good for his dom. A punishment ruins his mental health for DAYS afterwards. He feels like the worst sub ever, and he's so lost and shakey for so long afterwards.

But then he meets you, and suddenly he's so shocked. Now he has a dom that actually listens to him and wants to figure out how best to dom him? I actually think that maybe he has no idea what to say?

You come prepared with a list of questions and common kinks and sit down with him to get all the info you need. But Logan, who has never had a dom actually listen to him before, has no idea what to say? You ask him what his favourite kinks are, what his hard limits are, etc and he just... he doesn't know? He has no idea what to say. He's never been expected to have these opinions before.

So naturally, when faced with someone who is giving him everything he's ever wanted, he pushes back because he doesn't believe that it's actually true. He can't manage to let himself actually enjoy this because he's sure that it's going to go away.

You start off with very simple rules for him, because you've seen how upset Logan gets when he thinks you might be upset with him. You don't want any harsh punishments until you understand him better, because he seems to react REALLY intensely whenever he suspects you might be unhappy with him.

Maybe you two have had a really good week when he purposefully breaks rules? He had a training week and you stayed the entire time, praising him for doing well and scening with him every night and maybe he even comes to you at night and asks to spend the night? He spends the night with you, cuddling in bed and he's so so happy but then he wakes the next morning and he's mortified at how he acted.

He's laying awake in bed while you're still asleep, thinking about how his old dom would have hated this, would have punished him for coming to their room that night.

And he just... he has to break some rules. He has to know, and he feels like he deserves it.

Your heart breaks when he disobeys, because you know you'll have to punish him now. There's no way for you to work around it.

Logan is shaking before you've even said what the punishment is, and you really want to call it off but you can see he needs this. You just spank him lightly, but he's sobbing because he's been a bad boy. You're good to him and then he disobeys? There's no way he deserves you.

You end up spanking him three times and then pulling him into your arms, praising him for taking his punishment and thanking him for being a good boy for you. He doesn't seem to believe you, but he's so desperate for comfort and praise that he takes it without complaint.

And the funny thing is, he got punished so much more often and so much worse by his old dom and he never reacted that way. But then again, he never reacted so strongly to the little praise he got from his old dom either.

To be honest, you're glad it happened, because it shows you that with you, Logan is a soft sub. He needs to be praised and helped and punishment should be avoided at all times.

[aanabear2803]

hi i've seen your posts about body weight and I as a fat girl, was wondering if you are open to talk about it or give advice about it

I have been struggling real bad with it lately, I thought I was ok and had been for a few years, turns out I hate my body so much and you seem so confident, you got any advice? would you be open to talk about it in dm's?

feel free to ignore this if it's uncomfortable tho

Hi :3 um... so. I struggle with my own body weight a lot. I wont really talk about the bad thoughts that lurk about.

Ive been overweight since I was a wee lad. It especially hurts when my meds make me constantly hungry. Like I am always fucking hungry. So I just snacked the day away without any thoughts of consequences. I still eat these meds to this day. I am still as hungry as ever.

Id say I wont have very awesome advice? Because what I would normally do when those bad thoughts do happen is... post nudes on my kinky tumblr? Which, you know I dont expect others to do. Im sure there are healthier ways to express yourself than to go on tumblr and do shit like being half naked. However there are tons of gorgous women who dress in lingerie and post on tumblr all the time. You kinda just need to know where to look.

Ive also been trying to loose weight. But its more for a health thing since Im close to being diabetic and Im super duper not down for that myself. Im already tired of the meds Ive eaten I dont want to have to subject myself to stabs of insulin.

Im not on a fad diet of any kind. Im just eating 1200kcal a day watching as my weight slowly goes down~ I calculate all of this stuff too.

There's also the difference in how being fat and being unhealthy are wildly different. There's also that thing on how genetics have a say in the weight a person can be. But that is not my expertize at all! But you can be more than welcomed to go search and read up on those.

Ive been more open to exposing my skin a little at a time? Like wearing a bikini while in the pool when Im exercising. Ive been very recently trying to get corsets to work out too! Altho whether you like it or not there will be stares from people. But I would say start from the clothes, buy stuff you think would make you strut a runway. Dont just buy tshirts and pants and call it a day. Find a top in your size and fucking go for it. (Altho I understand many curvy people will not be able to find it cheap and Im just saying if you are desperate for the cash.... you can try Shein. Which I understand many Americans are banning and all the problems with fast fashion into overproduction but they do have many plus size clothes that most store dont normally have for people like us so you know its entirely up to you! But I was close to tears when I bought something and it just.... fits you know? Just dont go all out and buy their entire stock. I buy 5XL on there and dont worry about the number being so high, its probably based around the chinese style with their insane standards)

But hey look, people are going to judge no matter what ok? They always will. They will always find a way to trash talk. Its hard to ignore them, I get it. But theyre not you. They dont know if youre trying to loose weight or whether the food youre eating is a reward for having done a week of gym. Id honestly just say the fries are delicious and they should try it and we move on with our day. Its like online haters, you dont waste an hour of your life justifying things to them, so you have no reason to need to justify things to irl people.

I do hope this helps a little? I dont mind dms if you have any other questions of course :3

[sammygender]

thinking about that bit in the s10 episode i just watched where dean (and sam but i think mostly dean) recounts john taking them to new york and how there was SO MUCH in it. everything made me feel so vindicated i love love looove when spn suddenly lines up with something ive been thinking about. so much there.

dean being 'really underage' so i was thinking like 15 (not that id even describe 15 as REALLY underage, but these are americans) and sneaking out to a sick rock venue... <33. coolest kid around i love him. i like the establishment that dean did do things like that - it both makes me feel happier for him and slightly vindicates me against the people who claim dean was more sam's parent than his brother. thats not true. sure, he raised him, but he also snuck out to go to bars and dumped sam at random places and acted like an idiot older brother. and im glad dean got to do that.

15 year old dean (or some other young dean) being intentionally gotten drunk and implied to be roofied or drugged or whatever by a bunch of girls who were immediately all over him... hello... thats AWFUL..... god he must've been such a looker and i like it when canon acknowledges that. i have this idea in my head of like. 'funny looking' kid dean who's about twelve when he suddenly graduates from funny-looking to like relentlessly beautiful by just growing perfectly into his features. dean is always so aware of the way hes percieved physically in any given situation and always uses it in this specific way, from flirting with every girl around to responding to male aggression by way of cops etc by also like fake flirting or pretending they're sexually interested in him..... i dont always know where i land on 'precanon dean did sex work' hcs but this is something that does intrigue me about it. plus the weird and very sweet protectiveness he always has about sex workers - also just watched that ep where hes like trying to talk the soul-wanting sex worker out of it. ANYWAY. and the extremely casual way dean recounts this like its just?? something that happens to him??? hello???

then dean telling john he'd embarrassed him and he hated him...... doesn't really stack with everything else we've ever heard of child/teenage dean, but it's kind of interesting to consider. i guess he was incredibly drunk/potentially drugged. also this is from dean's perspective, a dean who was intensely gone and probably barely remembers.

and then we get a classic early-seasons style moment where dean recounts something about john winchester and goes Ha! Classic dad! What a great guy! and sam's like Dude wtf?????? except sam isn't snarky anymore so he just does a Look. i mean come on dean. ten minutes ago you said 'john winchester isn't winning any parenting awards' and now you're saying 'he raised us right!'. Dude. You KNOW that is not true. sam also knows you know.

that being said. i like seeing a moment of john winchester just being... a human guy. taking his kids to new york bc they kept begging him to and seeing all the fun sights. scaring the hell out of a bunch of terrifying punk teenagers who got his teenage son drunk. its more interesting to me to think that john is, like, a decent guy, aside from the child abuse, and probably would've been a much better dad if it wasn't for the trauma and the hunting and mary's death (though. i have to say. The way he deals with it is still his character!!! Putting it all on your very young son and venting to him is still like. Not something that a hell of a lot of people would do, even if they got just as revenge-driven. i reckon that specific type of parentification/spousification would've still have happened to dean. mary would've probably done it too.). the young john we see seems like a cool guy and he has strong as hell opinions about his future self's parenting (admittedly while not knowing it's his future self, lol). i reckon, on one level, john and dean did actually really get on. that makes the awfulness of it all so much more interesting to me <3

this post is all over the place but like. what an interesting scene. ill replay it and actually talk about in more depth and a more structured way someday.

[lesbianwithchainsaws]

What's your thoughts/opinions on each saw movie?

Oh no, this is a dangerous question to ask me because I cant shut up about Saw. If this ends up super long, I am so so sorry.

So the first one - amazing, fantastic, one of the best ever. I absolutely love this movie. I've seen it a bunch of times, can probably quote a good amount of it and it's easily one of my favourite movies. Leigh Whannel (screenwriter) and James Wan (director) really do a great job of showing characters that are well written and intriguing to watch. Same with the story itself. Also Adam makes me absolutely insane in this movie. Not only does he have hilarious lines, but also if I think too much about the tragedy that is him, I will scream. I absolutely love this movie so damn much!

The second one - imo also pretty good. It's not as great as the first one, but the story is still interesting to watch and I like the traps. Especially the needle pit! (Fun fact: they had to use over 100k needles for it to make it look full and I saw this behind the scenes video where it turned out that still wasn't enough and they added extra padding to make it look fuller). I like the return of Amanda and the twist. Though John saying "Your son's in a safe place" and him being in a safe makes me laugh. It's so silly.

The third one is like simultaneously great and not great. I love the Amanda/Lynn/John stuff but Jeff is a frustrating character to watch. Though Saw III does have some great traps too. The freezer one and especially the rack (the one where the character gets his limbs twisted one by one). It's not my favourite Saw but I do quite like it. Also Lynn and Amanda would've hate fucked if they had survived. Also also the third one has several deleted scenes and, if you haven't checked them out, I highly recommend it. They're all on youtube and they're so good. I wish they didn't cut all of them out. The one with Amanda and Adam makes me scream!

Saw IV honestly kind of makes me laugh. Mainly some of the transitions. I've watched it twice with a friend and we laugh so much at the mirror transition from the trap to the police station. It looks so ridiculous. Saw IV overall is not that great imo, but I still enjoy it. Character-wise and story-wise it's a bit more forgettable though. It's not the worst Saw, but it's kind of in the middle for me.

Saw V is uh, not very good. I love the concept of it and the idea that they all could've escaped (it was quite predictable and not a good twist but whatever). I do think it wasn't executed that well though. I think if the characters were better and maybe the link between them was better, it could've worked. But imo Saw V is one of the weakest of the franchise. Also the first time I watched Strahm and Hoffman do anything, I straight up couldn't tell them apart. I wish they would've done at least something to make them look different because following that plot wasn't easy. But the ending is still pretty cool, I'll give it that.

Saw VI my beloved. I love this movie. I'd say it's more or less on the same level as Saw II. I love the traps and the idea of the whole thing being commentary about American health care. The shotgun carousel? One of the best traps in the franchise. At this point the non-trap plot is a bit ridiculous and Hoffman is like the most obvious jigsaw ever and it's kinda baffling how no one seems to know its him despite how obvious he makes it. But still, overall a great movie and I love it so much!

Saw VII/Saw 3D on the other hand is bad. Originally the idea of Saw 3D was supposed to be split into two different movies. But Saw VI didn't do as well as the studio wanted so they made the filmmakers put it into one movie instead of two. And I feel like it kinda shows. The plot is a bit all over the place at times and I also don't like the way this movie looks. Something about the colours look so off. The traps are okay. There's some cool ones, though why did the dudes wife had to die? She was innocent in the whole thing.

Anyway, it's cool to have Lawrence back but Saw 3D is not great. Also the therapy group plot is kinda funny to me.

Jigsaw... hate this movie. Worst movie in the franchise to me. It sucks so much. The traps are, as always, fine. But the plot? The twist that it's all before the first one? Stupid. Bullshit. I hate it. I also am an avid Logan hater. I'm an even bigger hater for whoever wrote "John didn't think I should die because of an honest mistake". Putting that person in a Saw trap. Because like what franchise did they watch? When has John Kramer ever done anything like that? Logan should be dead.

Even besides my Logan hate, this movie just isn't good. The characters aren't particularly memorable. I don't think the look of it works at all. It's all so yellow. None of it really works in my opinion. I don't like this movie at all. Fuck Jigsaw (2017), all my homies hate Jigsaw (2017).

Now Spiral I think is better than Jigsaw and is okay in general. I'd put it in the middle when it comes to all the movies. I know some people dislike it, but I think it's fine overall. The traps are pretty cool and I dont mind the change in voice/design of the copycat killer. The twist was very predictable honestly and I can't say the characters were like super well written. But the movie was alright imo. Love that they said acab as they should.

Saw X isn't out yet, but I'm so excited for it! The trailer came out really recently and augh I can't wait. It looks really cool!!!!! I already want to talk about it for hours

[slythereen]

Idk maybe i'm late to the discussion but from what i heard from people around me, people are mad at cheerleaders being there because (and this is not me hating on it i know it's an american thing) f1 is being americanized and that that is not necessarily a good thing for the sport (i'm not talking about the money thing, but about the fact that the focus should be on the racing and everything else is unnecessary? Like ive had (older generation) people tell me that even this whole music act thing (and the circus) is unnecessary? Like it's not a festival, it's not supposed to be coachella, people tune in for the race and the drivers)

not to worry the discussion was just me commentating into the void !!

but yes, that does seem like part of it. mainly i was seeing people upset by the sexism of it all (& “stepping backwards” after finally getting rid of grid girls and trying to boost f1 academy) which is what my original commentary was about. personally i don’t see cheerleaders as the pinnacle of misogyny (likely because i am used of american sports), which is why i have always been a bit confused about the outrage that got grid girls banned. same thing in my mind… though i guess, culturally, grid girls may have been treated differently than cheerleaders based exactly on that distinction. idk.

anyway: the “americanization” of f1 does seem to be a giant point of contention. i agree watching the podium placers walk out between the cheerleader lines was slightly hysterical because they looked so confused and it was just… excessive. i liked the pre-race show appearance, would have been happy to see them still doing some cheering near the podium, but the walk-out style a la miami being replicated here was A Bit Much.

i just don’t know how much this can really be blamed on american fans per se and how much it needs to be taken up with liberty media/f1… they seem to be driving the “entertainment” push & the american gps are giving them what they asked for and being actively encouraged (i believe) to go all out and “american” with it. in theory it’s kind of a genius PR move by f1/liberty because it means they can get the circus they want and tap into american viewership while simultaneously shifting the blame onto american fans/gps when/if things go over poorly abroad.

all that to say is i’m interested to see how this shakes out with next year’s calendar and the potential waning of american interest if the “mainstream” fans push to reduce american involvement. like, is liberty still going to try to push gp hosts to amp up the craziness anyway? will they abandon the project and just pass it off as a failed american experiment? are we going to see it backfire for f1 and see a migration from all the new american fans being pushed to indycar and nascar instead, since those are already “ours” (quote unquote) and more receptive to new viewership? inquiring minds (me) want to know

[hermanunworthy]

haiiiii... you asked for hermie asks so erm. what do you think hermie was like in chaparral (is that how its spelled?)

i imagine that as herman he was a regular good student- kind of uninteresting, not exactly memorable. almost forgettable.. chaparral feels like the more well funded, a bit more prestigious (like they get high grades or smth) but still a bit dull... this is purely to contrast with hemie's theatre kidness. yknow. But idr if it was portrayed differently (and i dont know how american highschools work) so uh what do you think!

hiya i was gonna respond to this last night but i ended up getting a massive headache so i had to go to bed early 😞

this is a REALLY interesting thing to think about, and something ive been trying to figure out! i think my idea of chaparral hermie/herman mostly aligns w urs. i imagine they really tried hard to blend in while also internally feeling a desperate need to stand out. their inclination for mischief probably manifested itself in more subtle, trivial ways, like cheating on tests and sneaking into classrooms and such. little things that wouldnt get them found out by their parents (bc they probably did before and it screwed things up for herman), but could still give them that satisfaction of doing something they werent supposed to. as a kid, i think they were more of a troublemaker, and probably didnt get along w other kids, bc they liked to pull childish pranks and maybe be a little rude due to low empathy (and ofc their scamminess and demonness agkdf). this probably concerned their parents greatly, and led them to be more strict w them, and for herman to conform more (aka just become more secretive. u know how kids are)

the way i imagine their physical appearance is like.... very normal and dull. black hair like their parents, shorter than they wouldve liked, no makeup, a manageable amount of acne to make them look like a regular kid, but not enough to seem gross. sucky bond levels of Average High School Kid, as much as they wanted to stand out. they tried to look as much like their parents kid as possible, even though it wasnt what they really wanted.

when they discovered their love for dc, they felt embarrassed about it and hid it from their peers and their parents, afraid that if they knew how intense and weird their interest was, they would have it taken away from them (BIGGG projecting here guys). they stole comics from the school library and hid them in their backpack. they wanted all kinds of dc merch and to go to comic con soooo bad but they kept it all to themself to the point of wanting to explode. their special interest was one thing nobody found out about, thankfully. amazingly

now. in terms of the mascot costume prank. what im really wondering is.... how much was the rest of the school on board w it? if it wasnt something herman did for the school itself, how was normal aware that it was something being planned? maybe... im thinking.... herman was like.. anonymously antagonizing the school and creating conflict between the two schools for shits and giggles. in my mind, herman was jealous of how san dimas students got to be so openly WEIRD and became.. a little obsessed w that school. ofc as soon as they saw that the school was doing joker as its play that year, their dc autism brain activated and they made their plan to infiltrate the school. doing tons of research on it, especially on the theatre department anddd the mascot!! bc they heard that normally oak swallows garcia was the WEIRDEST OF ALL. so this was not only a fun scam thing but a weird jealousy thing to get back at this kid they didnt even know for getting to be what they were never allowed to be. san dimas/teen high gave them a chance to be the person they had been born to be, and i think thats wonderful <3 (even though it led them to horrible danger and also to break a poor undeserving kids heart)

so! this ended up being more than i thought i had to say. but isnt that always how it is w me and hermie.... tldr i think chaparral herman had to mask a lot and hated it. thanks for letting me ramble gskdj !!

[whitepassingpocs]

hi! thnk you guys so much for running this blog. ive just been feeling kind of. weird recently abt my race/culture and wanted to idk talk it out... like. my mom is white, and my dad is visibly brown and racially parsi (persian) indian, which is like its own thing because the parsis immigrated to india so long ago that theyre considered indian by many, but he and that side of the family have always lived in kenya, and he considers himself kenyan much more than indian. it makes me feel like an intruder on a bunch of levels; i dont even know anymore if im 'whitepassing' or not, like im tan, have a hooked nose, body hair, and droopy eyes, but i dont know if i actually look. 'indian'. you know. or if i could even say that, if im supposed to be iranian, or persian, and then culturally my family is very connected to kenya, and i spend most of my summers there, and i love kenya and my dad is a proud kenyan, but i feel so so white whenever i go there and its like. i wasnt raised there. i was raised in the us. i was born in the us. my dad isnt even african, he's indian, and it makes me feel weird to say im kenyan when my family isnt black. i really want to be comfortable being proudly kenyan, parsi, and indian, but i end up feeling like an intruder, and it doesnt help that my mom is like translucently pale, blond blue eyes etc. its weird. people never guess that my dad will be as dark as he is but they also ask me if im adopted when they see me with my mom. i just feel lost. i dont know

hi there! thanks for sharing your story. Lots of ppl have contacted this blog with similar feelings and experiences. ultimately, I hope you learn to accept that your experiences and your community are yours and just because white colonial vocabulary doesn't have a neat label for it, that doesn't mean you have no identity. as you say, you're all the things that you are. plenty of people all over the world have ethnic, racial and national identities that all seem to contradict themselves but they're still yours and you're actually very lucky to visit Kenya and your family there too. You aren't an intruder. You might want to look into "third culture kids" I think that might help you understand that there are others like you too. Also, for what it's worth, Kenyan isn't a race, it's a nationality. You can be Kenyan and white, just like you can be American and Parsi, like you. It's totally okay. Try to focus less on finding the perfect descriptors for what you are and focus on finding joy in connecting with your family and community because that's where the comfort you're looking for will come from! best of luck 💕

[the1975attheirverybest]

all of todays album talk made me listen to iliwys (ive also been wanting to put it on gor a whole but anyways) and honestly i think george has to be one of the best producers. the depth and tone on that record is so indescribable it transcends pop and its so pretty it makes me want to cry. like the into of shes american or this must be my dream sounds like glitter. but also the way it provokes the mental visual imagery like lostmyhead feels and looks like drowning in the ocean and i think its equally as impressive how that was captured in the live show like maybe its because i have watched the live at the o2 video so much but i felt like i could see the visuals for the title track in my head

but also, as something that can be applied to music outside of this album, it makes me lament people who dont actually listen to music. the amount of small but beautiful sounds they are missing out on is insane and almost upsetting - 🐸

yes yes yes yes yes. I think we touched on Matty’s writing when we were talking about the albums a bit. But George really doesn’t get enough praise. Both as a drummer and as a producer. Man is underrated. He’s got such an attentive ear for that kind of thing. And he seems to know exactly what would help the song come into its own, so to speak, and what would get in the way. That’s soooo cool. Plus he produces the live shows! Bless him 🥹💗 George appreciation 🥹🥹💗🥹🥹

I love that he’s also honed his skill alongside matty. Their partnership is fundamental nral to this band tbh.

[hagatha-christie]

Books in June, whatever

The bad:

Triple Duty Bodyguards by Lily Gold - I have to admire her “work smarter not harder” mentality because I have read two of her books now and every character is exactly the same from book to book with like 2 details changed about their physical appearance. I had essentially a 2 day long panic attack and my brain was on hyperdrive and this literally made me stop thinking any thoughts for the 5 hours it took to read this so like, do with that what you will.

Something Spectacular by Alexis Hall - the sequel to a pretty mediocre Alexis Hall book but in this one oh my GOD the romance didn’t work for me at all. We were constantly told how interesting and captivating the love interest was but I cannot tell you a single thing about them other than they’re an opera singer. V boring, only finished it because the friend group dynamic was fun

The fine: Killadelphia, Vol. 1-3 by Rodney Barnes - cool concept but it kind of felt like the author was like a 12 year old kid who didn’t know when to stop. “What if there’s vampires in Philadelphia right now and former president John Adams is one and so is his wife! And so is Thomas Jefferson! And Sally Hemings is too but she and Abigail Adams are in love! And then Tituba shows up and she’s a WEREWOLF.” These are all things that happened, I will not be continuing.

Radium Girls by Cy - another graphic novel bc I was on a kick this month? Anyway the art is cool but the translation from French to English is not great and kind of distracting!

She Drives Me Crazy by Kelly Quindlen - what if we pretend to date for Reasons and you’re the cheerleading captain and I’m a basketball player and we kiss and we’re both girls? V cute v fun

We Could Be So Good by Cat Sebastian - what if we’re best friends working at the same paper in the 1950s and I move into your apartment after my fiance leaves me for another man and then we kiss and fall in love and we’re both boys? V cute v sweet

The good/great:

Your Driver is Waiting by Priya Guns - viscerally sweaty and dirty and ANGRY but in a good way. Also made ME angry which I thought was a sign of good writing. Read for a little bit of catharsis if you’re upset that you’re fuckin broke and will always be fuckin broke bc nothing seems to get better and you kind of want to set something on fire, just a little bit, as a treat.

Pardon My Heart by Marcus Jackson - really honest poetry about Black masculinity that’s sweet and heartbreaking. Favorite poems were the title poem, and the three poems at the end that are about Jackson’s wife and how much he loves her.

The Woods, Vol. 1-9 by James Tynion IV - scratched the Stranger Things itch in my brain. Twisty and never went the way I thought it would. Loved these characters and their journeys!

Sweeney Astray, translated by Seamus Heaney - this weird-ass book from the 17th century was a WILD ride and I loved every second of it. Read it more for the historical info rather than its literary merit, if that makes sense? Sweeney gets cursed by a Christian king for being a dick and spends the entire book wandering the Irish countryside, eating watercress, and insisting that no one wants him around even when several of his family members say “WE WANT YOU AROUND”

Bitter Root, Vol. 1-3 by David F. Walker - read if you liked Ring Shout because the premise is so similar! The art style was great and I liked how expansive the world was. Great characters and a great storyline.

Electric Arches by Eve L. Ewing - fuck Eve Ewing for being so GODDAMN talented, it makes me sick, please read this.

Currently reading: The Devil’s Element by Dan Egan, which gave me like 4 more solid examples of the British Empire being fucking monsters (and American companies causing so much environmental harm and then saying it’s too expensive to fix)

[khodorkovskaya]

08.04.23

today was a great day at the shop! it was very slow at first and there were no customers for the first like two hours and i was starting to get upset. but then so many people started going in! in the end i was only 15 chf away from the ultimate goal!!! (and by ultimate goal i mean really we don't get these kind of numbers every day so it was an extraordinary result)

the best moment of the day was when these two american ladies came in and one of them bought the céline leather jacket and it suited her sooo well! and she was like "show me something i might have missed, do you have anything unique?". and i remembered about the absolutely gorgeous versace top we received the other day. it looks a bit weird on the hanger and i was like just try it on trust me! and she did and it looked AMAZING on her! so she ended up buying it. and i was just a tiny bit sad bc i wanted to keep the top for myself but oh well.

here it is btw:

anyway nik came to chill for a bit. he was coding in the storage room/kitchen while i was with the customers. his gf broke up with him bc he got drunk and shouted at her. it's the same story with him every time, i swear. like idk if i can be compassionate anymore. and idk how to judge him bc the first couple of times his alcohol problems and the issues related to them seemed sad. but idk if he's putting in any effort into fixing his life and becoming a better person. it's always the same shit with him.

but to be fair, it's always the same shit with me too so im not the one to judge. it was his bday party yesterday and he invited everyone to a bar. and im in my tea drinking era and really didn't feel like going. but the thing that motivated me was that it was B's favourite bar and he's there every weekend. so i, being the absolute pathetic loser clown that i am, was like "oooo i might bump into him if i go". and guess what, the first thing that nik said to me when i got there was "yeah, B was there a minute ago but i told him that you were coming so he left". like 💀💀💀 and then the night was ruined basically. bc i was paranoid the whole night. i was like omg what if B's gonna come back what if what if what if. i felt pathetic.

and it's frustrating in a way bc i feel like B must be handling the breakup so much better than me even tho im the one who left. like he doesn't watch my insta stories, he didn't stop to talk to me that one time i bumped into him by the river, he seems so much more disciplined than me... like idk. meanwhile im still obsessed and dream about him every night. and i fuel this obsession more and more like i can't stop myself.

this week im catsitting for my neighbour and again, i can't stop being a loser about it. bc ive known her and her cat (bless her!) since high school. and guess who else i knew since high school? like i have these vivid memories of going to check up on the cat and then coming out of the building and B waiting for me by the door with his bike and everything. and then going to the frog pond and passing by the petrol station to get pasta for dinner and then going to his place. and the fucking birds singing fuckk i hate those stupid birds i want them to shut up. because it takes me back to those evenings with B. and even tho this is the same building in front of which i used to take the school bus every morning when i was a kid, the only thing i can associate with it is B. despite all the other memories i have in this neighbourhood, it's always B B B.

and now i live in a different neighbourhood and listen to different music and have completely changed my wardrobe, i still have those memories ingrained in me. of me in my denim skirt and pink velvet top from bershka i bought when i was 17. him on his bike with his stupid backpack and cheeky grin. that one picture of us smiling in the countryside with wheat fields and the lignon towers behind us. the birds singing and the sun setting.

fuck.

when will it end?