#seeing a dermatologist for the first time on friday | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lesuccube · 7 months

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➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇɴ ɢʀᴀɴᴛ — ꜱᴇʟꜰ-ʟᴏᴠᴇ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — we love a king who knows how to pamper himself .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — fluff infection

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 1.2k

steven grant has been your best friend ever since you wandered into the gift shop section of the museum, wanting to buy a taweret plushie that you've been eyeing since seeing them when you passed by the area during a tour.

he was just a gift shop-ist at that time, nothing really special but when you had asked for a recommendation of what knick knack was the most historically accurate you could buy, he went on a tangent about egyptian mythology. it landed him a scolding from his boss but a laugh from you. maybe it was because he was just so pretty or that he fascinated you with his knowledge that you gave him your number.

ever since that day, you two hit it off really well. one text led to two and then a call, one too many which turned into you visiting him more at the museum whenever you're not too busy to go out on weekends. not too long after that, you invited him to your place and the rest have been history. it all happened in the span of four months.

you and steven made it a ritual to have a regular sleepover at yours on the last friday of the month (even if steven was working overtime doing inventory and the commute to your place added 30 more minutes before he reached you). but why would he go through all that trouble?

well, it's simple. the first time steven slept over, he became witness to your entire nighttime skincare routine. he was fascinated by all the products you used from face masks to serums to creams, anything you applied to your face he was paying absolute attention to the process of it all.

he loved how every single one of your products would have a benefit to your skin's health so much that he asked if you could do it to him too. now steven's actually very meticulous with his looks, all the boys are really, but steven liked to nitpick at his reflection (marc grumbles incessantly about it though neither of you knew that).

he wears chapstick because his lips get dry easily and since he does have that 5 o'clock shadow, he has a well thought out aftershave products. but skincare all in all? he thinks soap and water is enough.

every product you'd lather on his face, he'd ask what it does and you'd ramble about how retinol serums do help with wrinkles but it shouldn't be applied daily if he doesn't want to burn his face. he thought chapsticks were enough to keep his lips moisturized but when you pulled out a lip mask and a scrub, boy he was a goner.

the next time you guys hung out outside, steven dragged you to the mall and had you help him buy his own set of skincare products.

it made you giggle before directing him to a pretty popular clinic in the mall first so you two know what products to use with professional help rather than guessing what to buy and end up ruining his pretty sun-kissed skin.

[the following information is not accurate, i'm only saying what i remembered from when i was a heavy skincare girlie, i've turned to a much simpler routine now]

okay so, according to (me) the doctor, he's got a little bit of dryness on his cheeks and some oiliness on his t-zone, poor baby's got wrinkles from the stress he gets from donna and the heavy purpling bags under his eyes.

she recommended him quite a lot of products which included 2 cleansers, 2 moisturizers, 3 serums, a cream and an spf all with a variation of AHA, AAA, BHA, retinol, niacinamide and more. he bought them all.

steven absolutely splurged that day, not only did he buy everything the dermatologist recommended, he also went and bought stuff he saw you use from memory, the face masks, lip masks and scrubs, everything. hell he even had you buy your own recommendation of good shower products because "you always smell so nice and i know you're not really a perfume person".

that night, steven had you demonstrate each process step by step or can also be read as steven asking you to apply them on him like at a spa or clinic. he fell asleep with a sheet mask on.

when he woke up the next morning, you told him that you actually completed his routine while he was sleeping, much to his embarrassment, to which you replied with, "it's no problem at all, i got to take care of your pretty face and you were sound asleep, couldn't bear the thought of waking you up when you clearly needed that."

now every time he comes over every last friday of the month, you two would have your me-days. you two don't hold back on any of your products even if it rips a new hole in your wallets every time you two shop to restock.

lounging on your couch in a comfy pair of steven's shirt he forgot at yours some time ago and some sleep shorts, hair held back by a fluffy headband with a face mask on you, you surf through channels to find some trashy movie to watch with steven.

said man was in his own pj's, lip mask over his lips with the front of his curls tied up as he lay his head on your lap. he was reading his egyptian mythology book, reading glasses perched on his nose as he highlights bits of information he considers important.

your hand unconsciously runs through the curls that aren't tied up as you find a channel that's showing a rerun episode from the office and you settle for that. steven would occasionally hum and turn his head to watch, laughing at the jokes they'd make before returning his focus to his book. it's all so comfortable and perfect and somehow really late in the night.

steven notices your hand stopped combing through his hair and was about to ask why but only to see you sound asleep, mid-face mask. kind of like he was when you gave him his first spa treatment.

so he tucks his book away and takes off his lip mask. then continues to take off yours. he brings over your items carefully and starts to finish off your routine for you, making sure his hands don't rub too hard to wake you up. in an odd sense, it's like steven was trying to say thank you.

for the first time you showed him the way to care for himself more than just food and shower, for letting him learn alongside you how to feel better about himself as he applies skincare products on his face and so many more reasons pertaining to your friendship.

he finally finishes yours with great care and he makes quick work of his own, throwing away the masks before shutting the tv off, carrying you with surprising ease back to your bed and tucking you in.

he sneaks in beside you afterwards, holding you close to his body as he mumbles his goodnight. steven never had to worry about his sleeping disorder when with you, never needing an ankle restraint when you were always there to keep him grounded.

#👤 — user : kira #📂 — file : steven grant #moon knight #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight imagine #moon knight fluff #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant imagine #steven grant fluff

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kangamommynow · 2 years

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Went to the doctor about my feet.

I explained to the receptionist when I made the call Friday. Then I explained to the nurse when they called me back. Got an appointment. Went in. Explained to the nurse when she checked me in. Then I explained to the doctor. Frankly, I was a little tired of explaining exactly the same thing to 4 different people. Three of those were gatekeepers to make sure I wasn't wasting time in the clinic. They wound up referring me to podiatry, which I figured they would do in the first place.

You know what would have been more effective? Give receptionist general idea, talk to nurse on phone, get referral to podiatrist. Simple.

One of the reasons our medical care is so damn expensive is that we have a huge insurance related bureaucracy. If you need to see a specialist, you should be able to just see them without layer upon layer of gatekeepers first.

Yes, I need to see a dermatologist, or podiatrist, or whatever. I don't really need to see a general physician first to tell me what I already know.

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technotalksnimien · 11 days

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Chicquette

Hi everyone! It’s me again, Mien. I’m dropping off my fourth and fifth blog today since I am not that busy and I kind of miss posting here.

I just want to share that 99% in our class got approved in techno! Yes, our pitch has been approved and we will now proceed to our business plan. The last one will do his or her pitch this Friday. I am so happy that no one gets left behind. Hoping for good results. This blog will be mainly about my techno idea – CHICQUETTE. It sounds very girly and chic, isn’t it? After my first idea was rejected because it already existed, I took my time in figuring out the perfect techno idea. I tried looking online and spent hours there. I never thought that the idea that will bring me success is the one that gives me so much curiosity, SKIN CARE. I am very particular about what products to use on my face, or more like scared. I’ve read so much testaments online of them using a product but at the same time, comments say otherwise. So who do I trust? Are they really sincere in saying that a particular product is effective or they are just doing it for money? Yes, some content creators who endorse products are mostly sponsored, we don’t even know if they are applying it themselves. Is it FDA approved? Safe for all skin types? That was not indicated. I was just curious about skin care that time, but I didn’t give in. I did my own research; some sites weren’t reliable. That was a couple of months ago. Just last year, I finally got the courage to buy myself my cleanser, and sunscreen. I found the perfect match for my skin. Not sponsored but celeteque cleanser and fairy skin sunscreen works best on me. I never had break outs or irritations. And then one time, I realized, why not make this a techno idea? About skin care. I know there are other people who are confused as well, and there are people who are victims of fake products. So I decided to name it – CHICQUETTE, chic and coquette. I made sure to include something novel in my proposal. But before I share the features, let me share first how I came up with the most unique part. I tried searching FDA website online and curious about the process to find out whether a product is approved or not. Clicked cosmetics then search. “fairy skin” and then boom. There were so many results! I couldn’t find the product I was looking for. Like there were too many products that has the same name. If you want to see the product you’ve been looking for, you have to input the company, expiry date, manufacturer, license number I think, and many more. Imagine going through such a long process only to check a single product! What if you were to check 10 more? So that’s how I came up with the search feature in my app, you can use voice search, describe the product or image recognition, take a picture of the product. It will then redirect you to FDA website that contains the necessary information. Other features are:

1. Tracking of Lifestyle and Eating Habits

maintaining a nutritious diet is essential for achieving and maintaining healthy, glowing skin. Eating habits play a crucial role in skincare because they directly impact the health and appearance of the skin. The app will allow the user to input their current diet or the foods that they are planning to eat and the app will tell if it is good or not (will indicate what ingredient will trigger the user’s allergies or possible skin reactions) aside from that, it will also display suggestions of food alternatives that the user can choose from

2. Set up and Personalize Profile

specify your skin type, if you don’t know your skin type, the app will provide series of questions for you to answer, “know your skin type test” , after the test, you will get the percentage break down of skin types, and the one with the highest is the skin type you have. If you want more accurate results, you have to pay for dermatologist consultation (in app purchase). This is crucial so that the app can accurately match products according to your needs Aside from that, the user also needs to input his or her allergies in order to get safer skin care suggestions.

3. Beauty Podcasts

purchasing a subscription will let users join exclusive podcasts or live streams of skin care enthusiasts and dermatologists (includes masterclasses, make up techniques, skin care routines). free users may also be able to access but only once

4. FDA Approved Product Scanner and Voice Search

FDA portal allows searching of approved products on their database, however, there are lots of products with the same brand name which makes it difficult to find immediately. if you want more accurate results, you have to manually type the brand name, company name, registration number, issuance and expiry date TAKES TOO LONG IF YOU WANT TO CHECK MULTIPLE PRODUCTS so now, the app will allow you to scan a certain product. Voice search can also be used. You are to describe a product you want, the specific ingredients you prefer and it will show you the results. automatic speech recognition system (ASR)

5. Community

members can share tips, advice, product recommendations, and experiences, provide a supportive environment for skincare enthusiasts to connect, learn from each other, and stay updated on the latest trends and research in skincare

6. Business model

ads in app purchases, subscriptions/memberships partnership with cosmetic brand

7. Others

the user will be informed if he or she has allergy to the product he or she searched for, making it unable to purchase (restricted) after that, safer alternative products will be displayed. Visual representation of possible effects on the skin of that certain product. the app will show references/facts or research related studies (regarding why a certain product is not allowed or why is it beneficial) app will analyze weather conditions, will remind user to hydrate, reapply sun screen, etc. (user will input the time he or she applied it) chiquette will give off journal/tracker vibe that allows user to monitor their lifestyle.

#techno #it #mien

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pressedlil · 2 years

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Journal Entry; Monday 07/25/2022

Dear Journal,

It’s been a while since I’ve written to you! I apologize. I was thinking of putting this on my finsta but I figured I don’t necessarily need to overshare ALL the time. But let’s have a run through of the week.

Last Monday after coming back from work, I saw a cat in my apartment’s parking lot. As I was driving up the car seemed unbothered and walked his way into a bush in the corner of the lot. I got out of my car and still seeing his tail going back and forth, I called to the cat and he trotted over to me. He was so friendly and cute. He had a collar on him and his name was Paco! I called his owner and she came out to get him. Felt like I saved him from any potential dangers (cars, dogs, etc)!

On Tuesday I made my TikTok debut, looking v cute as always.

On Wednesday I had my first covid test for my extra role on Swagger and on my way back to my apartment, a car crash happened right in front of me! Luckily the other two vehicles barely missed me but I stayed behind to make sure everyone was okay while the police and paramedics arrived. I hope the guy that was hurt is doing okay, I met a lot of people involved in his life and they seemed grateful that I stayed.

Thursday was nothin special, I was moreso excited for Friday!

and on Friday I had my first shoot for SWAGGER SEASON 2! I was an extra yet again this time a high school student :) I’m excited to see when it comes out and if they are able to fit me in to film more. I met some cool people Jarette, Paris, and some others. The main character played by Isaiah also recognized me which was cool. I got to walk across the cafeteria by the table where all the main people were sitting and I felt so cool lol. It was a long day though stayed for about 13 hours! Didn’t even get to go glow bowling with my gal pals in Hampton but it’s okay they understood I was doing it for the fame and the money hahah.

Saturday was glorious all I did was chill and sleep (and also smoke but we won’t brag too much about that).

Sunday I had my YWD and Non-Binary SGI meeting where I gave my experience. Sharing about my experience navigating my journey on love including self love! Realizing more how important healing is and to take things a day at a time. Trying to surround myself with good people always. I also got to see my parents and finally my gal pals again!

Sometimes when I have so many things going on and then I come back to my regular life I get a lil sad reminiscing on the good times. But I’m so grateful to have had them in the first place that I try not to stay sad for too long. But this is my LAST WEEK at my summer school nurse job and it’s definitely bittersweet. I am excited to start my new job at the Sports Medicine Clinic but this will probably be one of the easiest jobs I will ever have. Everyone is so nice and I love getting paid to sit and chill, maybe give a few bandaids here and there. I’m also so grateful because I was offered another job within the school being a 1:1 nurse for a student however I had to politely decline although that was an area of nursing I was hoping to explore. Maybe later down the line but I’m hoping to stay at my new job for at least a year. Actually scratch that I am DETERMINED to throughly enjoy my new job and make it the best experience! New, healthy habits will be picked up and I am slowly turning more into the person who I meant to be.

Healthier habits also include going to visit some doctors before the year is over. Definitely going to find a new PCP, OBGYN, dentist, endocrinologist and perhaps a dermatologist. I think my thyroid may be acting up again. It’s crazy how it seems like so many negative aspects that I’ve been experiencing links back to my thyroid (hyperhydrosis, fatigue, memory loss, anxiety/depression). I wish I could more so treat my actual thyroid than just to alleviate symptoms. Peaks more of my interest in holistic medicine.

Anyways sorry to go on this random rant. Just kind of wanted to get my thoughts out and written so that way I can go back on this entry and revisit to see how much has changed. Maybe my next journal entry will be a letter to my future self. That would be kinda cool.

Hugs and kisses

- Lily

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formeryelpers · 2 years

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USC Dermatology, 1450 San Pablo St, Ste 2000, Los Angeles (Lincoln Heights), CA 90033

So far, so good. I’m a new patient. I was referred by my other dermatologist. The dermatologist that I was referred to only sees patients on Monday afternoons. I had to wait two months to get an appointment. My other dermatologist’s front staff got me the appointment and they were on hold for maybe 30 minutes.

I received a couple of appointment reminders via text. After I confirmed, they called me on Friday afternoon wanting to change my appointment time. My appointment was on the following Monday. They just wanted to move the appointment up by 10 minutes. I arrived early to fill out paperwork and they saw me early. It went quickly yet I didn’t feel rushed. They were kind and patient. They sent in the prescription information right away and even confirmed that they sent the information.

Parking is free for the first two hours. The lobby looked nice and the waiting room too.

The cost of the visit was double the amount of the other dermatologist (the one at Optum).

4 out of 5 stars.

By Lolia S.

#USC Dermatology #USC Medical Center #dermatology #dermatologist

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thexfridax · 3 years

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Under Her Skin

By Rachel Handler Vulture.com, 5 October 2021

Julia Ducournau lets us in on the years of fury, angst, and comedy that fueled the Palme d’Or–winning, genre-smashing Titane.

“My films are layers,” Titane writer-director Julia Ducournau says, “that I leave behind to get to the next skin.” Photo: Jeff Brown

Julia Ducournau is telling me a horror story. A true one. The two of us are walking through MoMA on a crisp fall Friday afternoon, in part because it’s one of the Parisian writer-director’s favorite spots to visit when she comes to New York City and in part because the museum happens to be putting on an exhibit called “Automania,” which could be an alternate title for her Cannes Palme d’Or–winning, paradigm-smashing, car-fucking second feature, Titane. Despite having woken up at 4:30 a.m. and flown here from a film festival in Texas, Ducournau, 37, looks soigné: pleated black Prada skirt, black leather Chanel jacket, iridescent-purple Issey Miyake tote bag, matched with scuffed white Adidas sneakers and the remnants of a late-summer tan. She’s five-foot-nine but gives off the distinct impression that she is six-foot-nine. She warns me that she can’t stay inside the museum chatting for too long without a break. “It’s not because I like fresh air or anything. I don’t give a shit about that,” she says. “But I like smoking.”

Back to the scary story, which is not about an adolescent whose skin starts shedding like a snake’s (that would be the plot of her 2011 debut short, Junior), a bloodthirsty young cannibal making her way in veterinary school (her 2016 movie, Raw), or a female serial killer with a metal plate in her head who has sex with cars (that’s Titane). Unlike her horrifying, cathartic, and wickedly hilarious films — watching them is like plunging your brain into an ice bath, then strapping it into a race car and driving it off a cliff — this particular story is about Ducournau herself. After the surprising success of Raw — a coming-of-age film that made some people faint when it screened in Toronto — she was determined to write an even better feature, smarter and weirder than her first. But the ideas wouldn’t come, she says. Every single day for an entire year, she woke up, sat down in front of her computer, and wrote absolutely nothing.

“When I say a year, it’s not like a year and I’m going on holidays,” she says. “It’s a year, every morning, you wake up, you take a shower, you dress, and you sit in front of your computer all day and nothing comes.” On the rare occasion that she did write a sentence, she immediately deleted it, disgusted. The specter of expectations haunted her. Ducournau tells me several times that she hates when people reduce her films, which she sees as complex, genre-hopping creatures, to mere body horror. “People wanted Raw 2 — like Raw but more gory,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I knew I was not going to yield to them, and at the same time, you can’t help being afraid that if you don’t give the people what they want, then they’re not going to like it.” When I ask her why she didn’t take a break, she looks at me like I have seven heads, something she does often as we stroll through the museum. “There is no way I can actually enjoy my life if I think I’ll never be able to do something ever again,” she says. “The only way was to try.”

Ducournau has been driven by an obsessive intensity of focus for as long as she can remember. She grew up in an apartment next to the Moulin Rouge with a dermatologist father and a gynecologist mother who casually talked about their patients at the dinner table, sparking her lifelong fascination with the human body: its grossness, its ability to morph and change, its inevitable decay. “I remember I was in my bath at age 5 and I realized I was going to die,” she says. Once, at a dinner party when she was 6, her cinephile parents plopped her in front of the TV, and she found herself watching The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. “I didn’t have a clue what was happening,” she says. “I accepted it as a kid so absolutely.”

When Ducournau wasn’t calmly watching cannibals chainsaw people to death, she was writing poetry and prose and short stories. She read too, Edgar Allan Poe and Mary Shelley, and watched David Cronenberg and David Lynch, reveling in their characters — the monsters. “You always feel like a monster when you’re a teenager. You stink. You have weird hair,” she says. “The element of monstrosity in teenage years is incredibly enduring and real.” When she was 16, a French publishing house caught wind of her poetry and asked her to write a full book. “I froze and I couldn’t,” she says. “I didn’t know if I could do more than what I had already done. And so I didn’t get published. And then I lost poetry. It’s like everything: You have to work to be good. It’s not like some biblical illumination falling on you.”

So she worked. She studied English literature and philosophy at the Sorbonne, then got into La Fémis, “the most famous film school in France,” to study screenwriting. By 20, she says, she knew she was going to become a filmmaker. She dismisses her first shorts as “so bad,” but smiles widely as she describes an early 16-mm. film she wrote and directed that sees a girl breaking up with her boyfriend at a bar, then suddenly picking up her stool and “beating the shit out of him, with blood everywhere.” When I point out the familiar themes in her work (furious women, blood everywhere), she nods. “I think that all directors make the same thing over and over again,” she says. “Someone once said that making movies is like looking at a diamond, every time through a different facet, through a different side of the diamond. And I think it’s really true.”

Ducournau sees her films as part of a “continuous gesture,” one that sees her trying to “gauge our humanity and be more precise about what it means” by regularly plumbing its grotesque, filthy depths. Her characters often struggle with a stomach-turning skin condition: a full-body rash, flesh peeling back from the bone, total bodily exuviation. “My films are layers,” she says, “that I leave behind to get to the next skin.”

Agathe Rousselle as Alexia in Titane. Photo: Neon

Despite the crazed vehicular lust of her Titane protagonist, Ducournau does not drive. In fact, she doesn’t give a shit about cars. (That aspect of the film is “obviously symbolic,” she says.) She strolls indifferently past the museum’s displays of vintage Citroëns and Volkswagens. We stop and start instead at sculptor Lynda Benglis’s coils of sludgelike metal lying coolly on the ground like people who have turned to stone and melted. A gaping canvas-and-steel piece by Lee Bontecou that looks like the abyss itself stops her cold.

Our conversation comes around to her post–film-school days, when she cast the then-unknown 12-year-old Garance Marillier as the oozing Justine in Junior. It went on to premiere at Cannes’s Critics’ Week and won the festival’s Petit Rail d’Or for Best Short Film. Naturally, the early affirmation of Ducournau’s talent terrified her. “I distinctly remember thinking, Oh my God, I’m going to be that one person who peaked with a short,” she says.

But in 2012 she made a French TV movie called Mange, which followed an ex-bulimic seeking revenge on her college bully. Ducournau is blasé about it, and it has since disappeared from the public record; soon thereafter, she put everything she had into writing and making Raw, in which she again cast Marillier as a young woman whose body begins to betray her as it strives toward its true form. Raised in a family of vegetarians, the innocent Justine is forced to eat raw rabbit kidney as a hazing ritual and soon finds herself craving human flesh — specifically that of her roommate, Adrien, whose flesh inspires Justine to chomp on her own arm during her first sexual experience, and of her sister, Alexia, whose disembodied pointer finger she digests after a spontaneous sororal bikini wax gone wrong. Much like Junior, Raw was a critical hit, winning the Fipresci Prize at Cannes and cementing Ducournau’s place in the pantheon of genre filmmakers to watch. When those couple of people fell ill at festival screenings, the marketing team, press, and theaters all latched on, handing out barf bags and gleefully calling it “the grossest movie of 2017.”

Ducournau was thrilled her strange little movie translated to a larger audience but disappointed by the conversation it spawned. She insists that she didn’t want to gratuitously shock anyone. She just wanted to use the concept of cannibalism as a prompt to urge her audience to question their humanity, to create empathy in the face of the ultimate taboo. It’s possible that her childhood immersion in medical terminology had misled her into thinking most people were comfortable staring human destruction directly in its half-eaten face. “You make something, you do it with your heart, and then people are prepared to throw up when they watch it,” she says, shaking her head. “You have all these people that say that they like your film and, at the same time, so many others have misunderstood it. Personally, I couldn’t help but put this on myself, thinking, Oh my God, maybe I should have expressed myself better.” She was particularly furious at France, which put the highest-possible rating restriction on the film. “I felt it was very unfair because there are, like, two scenes that are hard to watch in that film,” she says. “That’s bullcrap. It’s just another body. It’s just because it’s different that it’s disturbing.”

Ducournau and I pause again, this time in front of Yves Klein’s Blue Monochrome, a confrontational single-shade canvas. We have found ourselves in the middle of her scary story, the one about a woman who put her heart into one movie only to have it handed back to her half-broken and the consequent years of self-torment as she tried to write another one. “He spent a long time looking for that blue,” says Ducournau, referring to Klein’s painting. “He committed suicide, and some people say that it’s because of this blue.” I ask her if she means that the search drove him to death or if it was the color itself. She looks at me like someone might look at a child who has just spilled food on themselves. “I think it’s more what the blue means.”

Alexia gets into a car accident at a young age and has titanium implanted in her skull. The doctor tells her parents to “watch out” for any signs that the implant has affected her neurologically. Photo: Neon

Ducournau finally defeated her post-Raw block when she realized how angry she was — “at everything that people were expecting of my next film, everything I was expecting about my next film,” she says. “I was angry at Raw in a way, because it was taking way too much space.” When she allowed herself to be enraged at her own little Frankenstein’s monster of a movie, she was able to release herself from its bloody grip. It was around this time that she also began to have graphic nightmares about giving birth to pieces of a car, one grisly bit of metal at a time. “I think the collision between this pure act of life and this material that is dead and cold on the floor was something that disturbed me,” she says, “and was also attractive to me.”

In Titane, Ducournau puts her lead, played by Agathe Rousselle and also named Alexia, on a crash course with disaster. She gets into a car accident at a young age and has titanium implanted in her skull; the doctor tells Alexia’s parents to “watch out” for any signs that the implant has affected her neurologically. Alexia grows up to become a psychopathic exotic dancer who has wild sex with automobiles and savagely murders people by plunging a metal hair pin into their brains. But she is uncharacteristically sloppy during the murder of a would-be love interest named — what else? — Justine (Marillier). (“There is a possibility that all of the Justines might be the same person, a mutation of Justines, and there is a possibility that they’re not the same person. But now Justine is dead.”) Alexia is forced to go on the lam, where she decides to impersonate the long-missing son (another Adrien) of a steroid-addicted, sweet-hearted firefighter named Vincent (played by Vincent Lindon). Nipples leak motor oil, killing sequences verge into dark humor, and violent self-mutilation abounds, but ultimately it’s a queer found-family story in which two despondent, lonely people dredge up in each other the last vestiges of hope and connection. It’s a story about unconditional love, which the filmmaker says is one of the hardest things for her to write about.

Ducournau knew her script was, well, demented. She had abandoned the three-act structure and shirked any logline that might have helped sell the movie (before release, the only accompanying description was a definition of the word “titanium”). “There was no strategy. I’m not going to do three acts. It doesn’t work for my film. I’m going to do exactly what I want,” she says. The script was picked up by Neon in 2019, and by last year, she was filming.

For her near-silent, scathing protagonist, Ducournau chose another unknown. She pored over Instagram and casting websites until she found Rousselle, an aspiring actress and model with no feature credits to her name. Rousselle’s prep began almost immediately: a year straight of learning to act via monologues from Twin Peaks, Killing Eve, and Network; boxing and dojo training; mainlining videos of actual psychopaths to achieve a “void in the eyes.” On set, she faced hours of makeup and prosthetics. “Basically, my body didn’t belong to me for two months of shooting,” Rousselle says. “It was really disturbing. I didn’t have time to just regroup and be Agathe again. So I had this kind of dissociated experience.” In an early scene, Alexia purposefully breaks her nose on the side of a sink. When I saw this moment at Cannes, several people in my screening jerked up from their seats and ran out of the theater. Ducournau laughs when I tell her this. “I knew that would happen,” she says. “You know why I am happy about this? Because you actually don’t see anything. You think you see something, but you don’t. When you anticipate something, somehow it makes it worse in your head.”

Director of photography Ruben Impens, who also worked on Raw, remembers everyone being stunned by Ducournau’s decisiveness and control on the set of Titane. He says she directs every scene as if she’s already editing it; she doesn’t do much coverage, which is rare, because she knows exactly how she wants the scene to look on film. (“Every time I make a shot, I try to make it like a painting,” is how Ducournau puts it.) “When I met her, there were sparks, and I could see maybe she was not the most easy person,” he says. “But somebody with a vision, an idea.” As Impens explains, Ducournau is “bored very quickly. She’s very smart, so when things don’t move or go fast enough …” He trails off and laughs. When I bring this up to Ducournau, who I have been desperately trying not to bore for 90 minutes, she smirks. “It’s not really that I’m bored,” she says. “It’s that I’m impatient.”

About halfway through filming, Ducournau realized the film she was making was even better than the one she had in her head. She had this epiphany during a scene in which Rousselle climbs atop a firetruck and does an erotic dance for her fellow firefighters, who have just been knocking into one another on the ground in a hypermasculine mosh pit. To Ducournau, the scene represents what she describes as her “queer vision of the world,” one that “had to transpire in my mise-en-scène with light, with angles. Not just the script. It’s also how you portray and deconstruct gender stereotypes.” (When I ask if she herself identifies as queer, she stops me with a bemused but stony gaze. “Who I am and what I am is absolutely irrelevant. Everything that counts is the art.”) Ducournau was so certain of its power that she shot it through only once. Impens vividly remembers the moment: “She said, ‘It’s perfect, let’s move on.’ Everybody was like, ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Of course I’m sure. Is it on camera? Great. Let’s move on.’”

For Ducournau, writing is “a pain that is so visceral and vital and somehow that questions the very reason you’re alive. It’s the best thing ever.” Photo: Neon

The movie premiered at Cannes in July to almost unilateral raves, but it was still considered an underdog in terms of its chances of winning the Palme d’Or. Cronenberg’s Crash, perhaps one of the only other movies featuring sexual attraction to automobiles to premiere at the French festival, was famously denied the prize back in 1996 because Francis Ford Coppola was so scandalized. So when Cannes jury president Spike Lee accidentally announced Ducournau’s name at the beginning of his awards ceremony, both the audience and Ducournau were stunned. In her acceptance speech, which she’d written that same day on a public terrace, weeping, she thanked the audience for “letting the monsters in.”

Ducournau says the experience of making Titane helped her finally shed whatever was left of her self-doubt. She is already working on two new projects, one in France and one in the U.S. She won’t tell me anything about them, other than that she feels “a bit more ready to have fun” with her writing. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to do a comedy,” she says quickly. Writing, she admits, is still horrible in all the usual ways, but she’s able to see it now for what it is: “It’s a pain that is so visceral and vital. And somehow that questions the very reason you’re alive. It’s the best thing ever.”

As we walk out of MoMA, across an open bridge with glass walls on either side, Ducournau grabs my arm, looking temporarily vulnerable. Heights — one of her only fears. “I have horrible vertigo,” she says. “You have to help me.” I tell her it’s interesting that she’s scared of something as quotidian as heights but makes profoundly unsettling movies about people confronting death. She ponders this for a moment. “I think the vertigo maybe has to do with letting go and control.” She keeps her hold on my arm as we step on to the escalator, pressing shakily into me with no suggestions of self-consciousness. When we reach the bottom of the escalator, she instantly lets go, stands up straight, adjusts her messy bun, and looks intimidating again. “I’m going to tell you something very interesting,” she says, lowering her voice. “The only place I brave my fear is on set. If I have a very wide shot from high and want to crane or have to climb up a wall to catch an interesting angle — it’s not that I’m not scared.” You power through, I suggest. “Yes,” she says. “For me, my film is more important than if I die on set.”

*A version of this article appears in the October 11, 2021, issue of New York Magazine.

#Vulture.com #Julia Ducournau #Profile #Raw #Titane #French film #Palme d'Or #Cannes 2021

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thekingsparty · 3 years

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//ok so like, i’m not on a complete hiatus, but my time on the laptop is going to be limited for a little while, 2-6 weeks most likely.

why, you ask?

lemme tell you my story under the cut. (i’m sorry, it’s been a long few days and i’m feeling dramatic lol.)

anyway, last week my left eye starting being a little weird. i get this every now and then, feeling like i got something in my eye, it’ll be tearing up, weak against light and all that jazz for a few days and be fine after. but after 2 days of it getting worse and starting to hurt, my mom noticed grey spots on my eye? on the pupil. on friday night, the pain was so bad i drove to the hospital because eyes are scary and after some waiting, i got a doc to see me. she told me that the bad pain was an infection in the eye, which ... ok, sure, i assumed something was up. but she also told me that the grey areas i have on both pupils, and that those were damaged cornea that kinda healed and got overgrown by blood vessels. she told me that it was most likely my eyes getting too dry and the cornea tearing and that it was a thing of years of it happening, likely due to a skin disease stopping my eyes from getting the fluid they need.

she told me if i didn’t take this dead seriously that my eyes wouldn’t be holding on for much longer. so, safe to assume i got hella scared.

first thing monday i went on a doctor hunt. due to covid pretty much every doc in the city has switched to appointed-only and appointments aren’t available until november. so me, who has the social skills of an egg plant had to go and beg for an emergency appointment. ofc i read up on docs and reviews and found like, dermatologists sending people with necrosis away and that didn’t really help my fear of doctors, or the fear of communicating with humans or y’know all that.

the night before i managed to sneak in an appointment with a very fancy dermatologist who thankfully also sees insured ppl so i got lucky there and only had to worry about an eye doc before that. 2nd doc was the charm, i explained my case and with a little wait, i got to see the doc. the hospital forgot to give me like, my case result paper thing - so the doc had to look me over properly again and the medication that had confused her before suddenly made sense to her. (it’s apparently a very strong dose, i got 2 v expensive antibiotic eye drops i gotta use 5 times a day each, usually one of the 2 or a salve is prescribed) doc lady like.. exhaled sharply when she checked my eye under that blue light thing as apparently my cornea is torn and badly infected+inflamed in 2 places and not just the eye like the hospital said. so, because my vision on the eye is down to 20% of normal she also prescribed me antibiotic salve for the night, more drops and the urgent demand i come see her before my appointment on wednesday next week if anything feels wonky. the eye drops burn the life outta me and the salve is weird lol. so i’m like in constant discomfort or pain rn.

it’s apparently gonna be weeks till it’s even remotely close to starting to healing and in the meantime i gotta try and be gentle with it. hence the low screen time i got planned. i got exams coming up which will put strain on my eyes too so ye.

i got to my new dermatologist who got kinda upset at first that hospital blames my eye issues on a skin disease without being dermatologists lol, but when he checked my face, he understood. (it kinda fits, cause 2-3 years i’ve been in pain and suffering bc of my face and that’s about as long as eye doc said my eyes have been suffering.) apparently i got rosacea, the kind that is in your genes and breaks out in “young women in their mid-20s” ... and i was like 25 when it started bc ofc. >_> so, bc i don’t take meds when the eye stuff isn’t a thing, dermatologist wants to try an internal way of dealing with it. my skin’s already kinda damaged af so he wants to go all out lol. thing is, it’s a strong antibiotic and i’m taking all those drops and salve that are antibiotic so i gotta wait and get by with hydration for the eyes for now. >_>

anyway, yeah... not gonna lie but i’m super glad i was brave enough to go to the hospital bc every day mattered and i caught it before it got too late. normal me would’ve waited... and waited. anyway, yeah, so that’s it. eyes are important so i gotta sacrifice tumblr time for a while.. i love u all <3 and i’ll be on phone and disco, just not writing much due to me needing constant screen breaks.

#out of collars ( ooc )#eye mention tw #that got long

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casimania · 3 years

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Saw the first dermatologist, he said I’m dealing with Red Skin Syndome/topical steroid withdrawal syndrome right now on top my usual atopic dermatitis flare. Also called my doctor (who I have recently dropped lol) and my previous dermatologist reckless dumbasses. Then took some photos of my skin because cases like this aren’t so frequent.

For him this has been building up for a lot of time, I started using steroid creams and pills since I was 6 (I’m now 25) and then used the immunosuppressant for almost 6 months and it was the final whammy. And I’ll probably have to deal with it for a very long time. But at least is curable. Then we’ll start dealing with the eczema and how to keep it from flaring. First we gotta stop my skin for tearing at the seams tho 😬

His plan is no more water touching any part of my skin for a while, only dry cleaning (for my hair too 😭) with a cloth dipped in a potassium permagranate solution once a day in the morning, an ointment at night and some first generation antihistamines before bed so it knocks me out at night and reduces the itchiness and I sleep better at night. Also no more hydrating creams. Once my skin is a little better phase two I usually less red but drier skin for that reason.

Thursday I’m seeing the other one so I can hear another opinion before starting anything, and these tone these two should really be informed on this stuff. By friday I should have decided what to do

#talking tag #fingers crossed for Thursday #I’m in so much pain I do nothing but cry #like ferrying makes me feel like shit and I’m desperate #I’m one giant open sore and when I move I feel it :(#been unable to lower my arms properly all day #atopic dermatitis #atopic eczema

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leam1983 · 3 years

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It’s the end of the work week and, well...

I’m having thoughts on labor culture.

My father was born in 1958. He lived as the son of an absent father of five children who had no ability to truthfully express his love and care, and who instead chose to bury himself in work as a means to display his commitment. My paternal grandfather made and sold mattressees and died quite young of a cancer strain that today would’ve seemed benign. He was described as a hard worker, either up to his neck in his business or wanting just a scant few hours per day to himself. It made an aloof lover out of him and a distant father - who still loved his wife and children to bits but who felt emotionally castrated in a sense, as were men of the era.

The family consensus is that his work killed him.

My father is now 65 and survived a bout of Non-Hodgkinian Lymphoma. The oncologist and anyone with half a brain agreed that stress was the culprit. Early on, Dad had the family as an excuse for his tendency to overwork. He had to provide for us, after all, and garnish my mother’s meagre savings. All she has is her government-issued pension plan, while my father does have his own pension as a retiree of the City of Montreal’s Real-Estate Appraisal service. Considering, he felt obligated to pull a heavier load to bring in more, so they’d have better investment opportunities. Later on, he kept working out of a sense of fealty and attachment to his division, breaking out of retirement during the pandemic to join the work-from-home team. He wanted to help techs and city officials find ways to bring more of the traditionally snail-mail-based parts of the system online so the city’s Land Management service wouldn’t be paralyzed by COVID-19. What was supposed to be a single month turned into four, which turned into twelve.

By the end, they were begging him to stay on the team and to pull longer hours. We’re talking twenty hours per day, in some particularly grueling stretches. That means being logged in by breakfast and scarfing bagels down with Urban Design techs on Zoom instead of your own family, or having supper with your boss because she needs a play-by-play of the situation to stave off her executive anxiety.

Long story short, I didn’t see Dad much during the first wave. His reasoning was that he’d eventually stop, pool all this cash, and chuck it into his and Mom’s Registered Retirement Savings Account - with maybe an extra two thou or so in case the country reopened enough for their postponed trip to Cuba to take place.

Guess what? His zona flared up and he ended up with odd, shingly bumps along his scalp which to this day the local dermatologist grimaces at and tentatively has us dab with cortisone cream.

Mom, though? She’s a retired and registered nurse with a self-negating streak and a chronic propensity to undervalue her own physical ailments. Someone who quite literally understands the pain of busted hips on a clinical level because she was trained in Gerontology - and also someone who refuses to schedule an appointment with her GP and who inexplicably self-medicates with white wine.

As for me, I’m a 37 year-old man with a paycheck I consider massive with its meagre six bucks above the minimum-wage threshold - someone who chose to shack in with his folks until the current crisis ends and who therefore has a history of a single, willingly terminated apartment lease that originally began in the Planned Housing market. The apartment I want is basically a Barbie doll house for adults, a gleaming fantasy I’ll never have enough capital to touch unless I feel like trying my hand with criminal applications of my skills. The apartment I can get right now is a shithole, and I have the audacity to think I deserve a shithole that at least wasn’t someone’s former cockroach den.

Now here’s the kicker: I value my sanity and my health. I know my mental stamina levels and I know from experience that after working seven-point-five hours per day with the occasionally shorter Friday, I’ve found my limit. I could invest more if I worked more, yes, and I’m already in a better position than my parents, retirement-wise. I’ll never be rich, but I’m already set to be comfortable, provided I don’t spend my golden years trying to make it as an unsponsored TechTuber or anything else that’s equally ludicrous.

Where that’s a problem is in the toxicity this is generating. See, I have the gall to slide my daily schedule later so I can start at an hour that fits my biological clock and ends at an hour where I’m at my most creative. That means the folks saw me spending my pandemic mornings on Animal Crossing while Dad was trying to wrangle Excel spreadsheets for non-tech-savvy fellow Boomers while preventing the dog from eating his meeting notes. That means they guzzled vinho verde like it was Kool-Aid after seven while I made sure to find more concrete means to distance myself from work - ideally ones that didn’t involve functional alcoholism.

Naturally, what was bound to happen, happened: Dad soon spent his evenings calling me shiftless or “unwilling to commit”, while I was stuck watching him miss all the cues his stressed-out body were sending him. We already had Trump’s last desperate months and a global plague to handle, I really didn’t want my work to turn into more of a nuisance than it already is. I already love the people I work for and hate what I do (repeating the family cycle, it seems), but I’ve at least decided to give myself ample Me time every single day.

I’ve paired that with smaller, if consistent portfolio investments, along with a few new habits I wanted to get into to stay saner. Dad pulls crosswords or plays competitive chess in the wee hours, while I usually lay down to meditate around midnight and fall asleep by 1 AM at the latest. I’m half-expecting my father to pull a Tyler Durden and to sneer at me, at some point. “Self-care is masturbation,” he’d probably say.

Looking at classifieds for rentals, it’s obvious that the entire system is predicated on abuse. Work yourself down to the therapist’s office, right down to the fucking bone, and you just might earn a half-decent retirement because nobody’s taught you to invest incrementally. Nope, Society seems to say, you’re supposed to buy, buy and buy some more, until you realize you have ten years left to start from scratch!

I remember Dad’s face on my eighteenth birthday. “Why would you want a Disability Care Savings Account, Brain? You just turned into a legal adult by Canadian standards - you’re in no rush, right?”

I told him the real gift I wanted for my birthday, that day, was a ride to the family’s Financial Investments counsel. I pulled up the PDFs I’d printed out and filled and brought them over. From then on, if I dropped a penny in my nest-egg, Ottawa would drop another one. If my share grew, so did the government’s. In the twenty-odd years since, it’s expanded exponentially.

Dad thought I’d done this to have a big cushion by the time I’d retire. Mom thought I’d done this in case my disability worsened and I started requiring equipment or physical assistance. Honestly, my dumb, if slightly prescient eighteen year-old self figured I’d rather spend my time reading or playing video games than working. I knew I’d need something to help cushion my admittedly low career-related ambitions. I might throw several thousands at a new computer every seven to eight years, but that’s because I’ve saved them up for just as long, little by little. I have no vices beyond what sillicon offers and what you’d find in the pages of a book and don’t exactly need a big ‘ol, stonkin’ humidor stuffed with conoisseur stogies.

I have a shoebox with a poked-out Ziploc bag and a sponge, with a handful of joints and a few Santa Anas I got off of a buyer’s pool from work. Five of us occasional chair-bar goons pooled cash together on Cigar Chief and cushioned prices with a single, shared and massive order. I’m nowhere near rich, but assuming the housing market can catch its breath eventually, I’ll be able to live modestly - with one or two markers of occasional luxury I’ll have chosen.

I have a shittier job than my father has had and I’ve chosen to be happier than him. It’s just sad that the usual response elevates overwork as the supposedly one, true way to leave a mark in society.

No, Dad. I don’t want to die while my own cells eat me alive, I want to die blazed out of my fucking mind, happy because I’ll have had time to enjoy my friends’ company and to finally make some sense out of Kerouac’s Subterraneans or to figure out what the fuck is going on in Joyce’s Illiad. I’ll die crusty as shit and fulfilled as a Pop Culture jockey, because I’ll have either finished Persona 5: Golden in my lifetime or I’ll have watched the entirety of the MCU’s output before Disney finally manages to kill their golden goose.

I want to die decades from now, feeling like I at least owned my choices and didn’t spend my time tethered to someone else’s professional expectations of me.

#personal life #thoughts #work culture #overwork #cancer #free time #mental health

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sweetmilkshakecoffee · 3 years

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What have I got to lose right?

Ok, let's get it out of the way. Life's not great right now. My outlook is generally negative, I'm pretty sure the house is going to collapse in on itself before the end of the year. The past few months have been hell, with (diagnosed by a dermatologist) eczema flaring across most of my limbs, leaving even minor movements pretty painful. Not to mention the constant sticking of clothing to the dried crust of near constant oozing. Dermatologist has placed me on a 4 week run of Prednisone for that while we try additional treatments, and my mood's been swinging like your cool hippie aunt in Florida on a Friday night (we all have one, love you Mona). The past week at work has been, difficult. With bottled frustrations finally cracking in out of character fashion. I'm now realizing that if I don't find a different approach here, I'm going to alienate myself from those I claim to trust and love the most. So, instead of getting agitated or angry, I have tried to explain what I am feeling in that moment and why my brain is telling me I am feeling it. For the first time in the time I've known him, I feel like my coworker, who I also claim as my best friend, really heard what I was saying. At one point I wanted to sob because just for once, someone just acknowledged, hey, I hear what you're saying, and I understand how that can be making you frustrated. And even now I'm tearing up thinking about how much relief I felt in that moment. Moving from the desk job in the offices back to the warehouse floor has been challenging. It's not hard work, but for some reason it's become a mess, with problems sprouting like hydras. And when I try to bring up the subject, all I see and hear is "It can be dealt with later". And that attitude, in my opinion, is how that place ended up in the condition it is now. It's an bullshit job, yeah, and it doesn't make much of a difference at the end of the day, but fuck, if I can make it easier for 1 person to do their job, I'm satisfied. I love my managers, and I have to remember that despite our personal relationships with each other, it is their boat to sail. I can offer my opinion and concerns, but that is all I can do. Whether or not they choose to listen is their decision, not mine.

It's around this point, as I've been writing this in chunks in between killing my character on my twitch friend's GTA RP server in order to test for a bug in the respawn settings, that I am beginning to feel insane. And it's also at this point, that I am going to tell myself that no, I am not insane. I am simply a human being, and that it's ok, and I will get through this patch of life. I've survived life so far, no matter how bleak it feels, and I'll survive this too. I'm a lot tougher than I give myself credit for, and I need to remind myself of that more. Love yourself, dude. You claim to offer the level of kindness and patience with other that you would like equaled to you, but you don't offer yourself that much kindness. Pretty cool logic, huh? Yeah, shove that in your self righteous penis.

My mind keeps going back to the housing situation. It seems my biggest stress. My days in this house are numbered, and that number is getting pretty damn low. The idea of selling or throwing most of my stuff sounds really tempting. Maybe doing a little cabin home. Bedroom, bathroom, laundry, kitchen, couch and tv area, and an area for a PC. You can get the prebuilt "tiny cabins" for pretty cheap, even on monthly payments for idiots who didn't learn about credit until it was too late like you. It's just finding somewhere legal to put it. One thing at a time though. You'll get things figured out. You always do.

So, this just started as a way to get what was running through my head out of my head, well, to somewhere. And somewhere along the way, it kind of turned into a letter to myself, to anyone to no one particular. If there's something in there you can take away, great, if not, that's perfectly fine too. I'm doing this for me more than anything. Not really sure how this is supposed to work. If you have words of encouragement, bring them on. Just please, I have enough negative in my own head, let's break that cycle. I want to be better, and I honestly think if I can be 1% better than I was yesterday, maybe I can enable others to be get there with me. I'm going to intend to take a few minutes everyday and just, well, rant, get the winds out of my brain and onto something tangible. Maybe it'll help, maybe not, but it's worth giving a shot, right?

#mental health #first step #unfuck yourself #1% better #talking to myself #inner monologue

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antichristsxbox · 4 years

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It’s a match!

Summary: You meet Duncan on a dating app and the two of you decide to go out for dinner together. Warning: this contains smut! :)

From the writer: Hey guys, this is the first-ever fic I’ve written about Duncan from House of Cards! I really like this and I hope you do as well. If you enjoyed this, all likes and reblogs are appreciated + check out more fics I’ve written on my masterlist!

Word count: 2,425

Left, left, left, right, left, right, right— it’s a match! A cute man named Duncan with brown hair and blue eyes. He lives in the city, not too far from your home in Alexandria. He’s a politician, or at least claims to be on his profile; he’s looking for a relationship but would also like to have fun and see where this dating app takes him. Perfect, you think. Before you could even send ‘hi,’ a message from Duncan comes through. He is wondering if you would like to meet up for dinner sometime this week and even offers to pick you up. You reply back, saying you would love to meet up with him although you live out of his way, so he shouldn’t bother to pick you up. Also, you don’t really like it when you get picked up on the first date. If your date is annoying, weird, or boring you never like to stick around— a friend is always willing to fake an emergency call for you to give you an out.

The time agreed for dinner was tonight at seven-thirty. There’s a Capital Grille downtown, and Duncan offers to call and make a reservation. While everything is falling into place for tonight, your mind wanders to what you should wear. Thankfully, you take Fridays off of work, so you’re not going to be bombarded with patients or meetings today. It’s very important, first impressions— you wouldn’t want to look tired or worn-out like after a long day of work. After circling around your walk-in closet a couple times, you decide on a black jumpsuit with a v-neck and a halter-style neckline. The legs are wide-cut and there’s a thin band of rhinestones around the entire waist. A matching pair of black, open-toed Louboutin heels tie the look together nicely.

Slowly, you make your way down the stairs to your underground garage. Whoever built this house initially went all-out— big columns surrounding the entire house complete with first and second-floor wraparound porches. A garage aboveground wouldn’t go with the aesthetic of this Antebellum South style mansion. Sometimes, it’s difficult to pick your car of the day, but today is not one of those days. Between your Mercedes S550, Porsche 911 Carrera S Cabriolet, Audi S3, and the Rolls-Royce Phantom, the Porsche takes the cake for tonight. The weather is nice tonight, you could let the top down and cruise up the highway for your short ride to D.C. Plus, the black exterior with black detailing, then red from the mechanical details behind the wheels matches your outfit perfectly.

Eventually, you find your way to the Capital Grille downtown. It’s already dark outside, but you manage to spot the valet horseshoe just in time before missing the turn completely. You exchange your keys for a valet ticket, then walk through the door held for you by the hosts. As you look up to see if your date has arrived, you spot Duncan at a booth near the side of the restaurant. You walk over and he stands to greet you, offering a small hug before the both of you sit.

“So, Ms. (y/l/n),” he says, but you cut him off before he could continue.

“Dr. (y/l/n),” you say with a smile, raising your glass of ice water to your lips to take a small sip. Duncan quickly apologizes and corrects himself, giving a warm smile back in return; he mentally kicks himself for not remembering after reading your profile. Duncan goes on and says he’s wondering about your hobbies, but could see why you might not have many as caring for patients takes up a large chunk of time. It wouldn’t be so bad if you were only a dermatologist, you go on, but you also run a successful clinical trial research lab in your office as well. Having to continually monitor patients is a huge time-suck.

“What do you do, Duncan?” you ask, glancing up to meet his brilliant blue eyes. He explains that he is a politician and many of his family members are prominent people around the city as well. Sure, you think you’ve seen Duncan in an interview or read about him in an article or two, you recall. After making small talk about each other’s careers for a bit longer, you begin to delve into what intrigued you about the other. What ‘made you swipe,’ per se. For you, Duncan seemed nice and cute as well as successful from what he described in his profile. You look for men with a similar drive and ambition as you or else you may get bored, you say. Similarly, Duncan says he was attracted to your success and ambition in your field of work. He even remarks that he has visited your practice before, but seen your nurse practitioner rather than you. As you continue to chat with Duncan, you begin to wonder if he would ride back home with you. Sure, he may be looking for a relationship, but you’re not sure you’d like to spend time getting to know this man if he’s a not a good fuck. There’s plenty of cuter, more successful men in D.C. for you to spend your time on if Duncan can’t make it happen. Sometimes, nice guys are nice because they need to compensate for something.

“So, did you drive here?” you ask, gliding your finger across the top of your water glass in circles.

“Oh, no, I Ubered in case we wanted to get a bottle of wine,” he says.

Perfect, you think. You could offer Duncan a ride back to his place or offer him a ride to your place. How could he resist at that point? After dinner has come to an end, you and Duncan make your way out to the valet horseshoe again. He holds the door for you and offers to wait with you while your car is being pulled up.

“I could give you a ride home,” you say with a smile. He initially declines, but then graciously accepts your offer when he opens the Uber app and finds that no rides are available near him. A loud, high-pitched whirring noise fills the alcove, and you could tell your car close. The turbo engine causes the noise to be more high-pitched than a regular engine as the turbines spin ten times faster than a regular engine would allow. You step forward and hand the valet boy your ticket from where the top would be if it was up.

“This is you?” Duncan says, raising his eyebrows and smiling. You make your way to the driver’s side door— the valet boy left it open for you, then closes it behind you as you tuck your feet inside. Duncan opens the passenger side door and climbs in. As soon as you pull out from the restaurant’s front and stop to turn on the road, you begin to speak.

“Why don’t you come home with me?” you ask, turning on your turn signal to indicate the right turn you’re about to make. There’s a line of cars passing by for now, so you turn to Duncan in anticipation of his response. There is not much hesitation before he nods his head yes and a smile curls around his face.

To no surprise on Duncan’s end, he is now pulling up towards an amazing home. What really gets him is the underground garage. What a nice touch, he thinks to himself. He knows for sure she’ll never be after his money— perhaps he’s going for hers at this point. Although that may be a joke with himself, for now, he knows that the car he’s currently sitting in is half a year’s salary at his job now. For the current object of his attention, this is just frivolous spending money. For her, a quarter-million dollars is nothing, especially in a garage with three more amazing, beautiful cars. All cars are shiny black— each with stunning, custom details.

You press a button near the rearview mirror and the garage begins to close. The trip up the stairs to the first floor of your house is longer than you would like it to be, especially with Duncan on your mind. He stands behind you on the stairs, as a gentleman should— ready to catch the lady if she slips or tumbles. Once you’ve made it upstairs, you don’t bother walking all the way to your room, you sit down on the couch in your living room. Duncan soon follows, sitting right next to you, resting his hand on your thigh. As he leans in for a kiss, you surge forward to meet his lips. His scruffy facial hair tickles your face, but you pull away from his lips as it begins to scratch. Men with facial hair are amazing, but you prefer it to be a little longer so it could be smoother rather than prickly. Nothing against Duncan himself so far, though— amazing kisser, that man. His hands move from your shoulders down to your waist, and he attempts to tug your jumpsuit up, probably thinking it’s a shirt.

“Oh, I got that,” you say, reaching behind you to unzip the zipper from the back of your outfit. As the zipper becomes undone, the neckline to your outfit loosens and a sleeve begins to fall from your shoulder. Duncan unbuttons his own shirt and allows that to fall to the floor, then peels off his undershirt and throws it across the room. You let your sleeves slip all the way down your arms, then off your fingertips until the top of your jumpsuit pools at your waist, leaving you sitting on the couch in your bra and pants. Kicking off your shoes, you pull your jumpsuit down further so you would only be in your bra and underwear. After seeing this, Duncan makes haste to unbuckle his pants and belt, then casts those to the side as well. Clearly, he was excited to be here as there is a prominent bulge present in his boxers, straining against the thin fabric. Duncan’s soft hands meet your unclothed waist— this gives you the chills as be begins to kiss you again, scruffy facial hair and all. Now, you’re beginning to feel a growing sense of urgency pool between your legs, and you’re eager to explore what Duncan has to offer.

“Why don’t we move this to the bedroom?” he asks after breaking his string of kisses. You agree and stand up to lead Duncan to your bedroom. After arriving at the master suite, it doesn’t take long for both of you to climb on the bed. Duncan’s beneath you as you lay on top of him, legs straddled above his waist, brushing over his solid erection. Your lips are still crashing together, but your mouth grows wider with every kiss, accepting more of Duncan with every movement. One of his hands travel to your back while the other begins to massage one of your breasts, then you feel your bra unhook and fall in front of you. Duncan catches it with the hand that was occupied with your breast, then he throws it off the bed. After this, you reach to tug down your underwear, then cast it aside like your bra. Duncan’s erection springs up from his boxers, and it’s a clear sign of relief when he is freed from the confines of his tight underwear. After exchanging a few more passionate kisses, you reach for his long, thick member and line it up with your entrance. He lets out a few small groans as you touch him. As you begin to sink down on him, he bucks his hips up and thrusts himself further in, yet you’re not all the way adjusted to how he feels in you. As you rock your hips over him a few times, the feeling of him stretching your walls all the way begins to sink in— there’s not a space inside untouched by Duncan, you’re completely full. You shift back and forth on him, causing the pressure due to him being more and less present in alternating sides inside you. The most pleasure comes from moving your hips forward, having him press back inside you near your most sensitive areas. After a few more minutes of this, Duncan leans forward and tells you to lay down.

He’s now between your thighs with your legs wrapped around his waist, ankles crossing behind him. Now, he’s pounding into you, skin hardly slapping against skin. For a while, it was a dull sensation— but, time after time, it’s now biting and harsh every time he smacks himself against you, balls slapping against your wet heat repeatedly for the past few minutes now. You could tell where he was inside of you by tracking where the significantly thicker head was from the rest of his cock, the suction caused by this letting a lewd popping sound release through the air every time he pulls completely out and then re-enters. Duncan then decided to place a pillow under your hips, allowing for him to angle down inside you to hit your sweet spot. Not long after this, you feel your orgasm is near. Tightening your grip on Duncan with your legs, you begin to rock your hips in sync with every thrust he makes, chasing your own pleasure. As his movements become somewhat erratic and varying from his usual thrust force, he either shifts slightly or slams even harder into you. After a few deep breaths and hard thrusts, Duncan releases himself inside you, pushing himself even deeper inside, almost brushing your cervix. Following this, your orgasm washes over you, clenching around his cock and drawing his warmth even deeper inside you. Muscle contractions move up his cock, squeezing him for anything he has left.

Slowly, Duncan exits you, followed by a trail of his cum leaking from your entrance. He looks down and licks his lips at the sight of you laying down in front of him, full of him.

“You’re staying over,” you say, no room to interpret that as a question due to your commanding tone.

“I couldn’t leave if I wanted to, baby, you’re my ride home,” he says, laying down next to you and smiling.

“I don’t want to, though. You actually don’t have to take me back to my place at all.”

///

*** I’ve tagged you if you asked to be on my tag list or if I thought you would be interested in this fic based on interactions with my other fics/posts! Let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list. :)

Tag list: @langdonsoceaneyes @ms-mead @daydreamingofcody @psychobitchtess @swampwitchh13 @ahstmblrupdates @forgivemelucifer @jocelynscloset @ccodyfern @sammy-samm @xavierplymptonsangel @lilithrmorningstar1 @slashersrus @im-the-music-whore @isometimeswrite132 @gingersnapped13 @recklessmoannn @nickiechao11 @dani5216 @antichristsqueen666 @nightsblackroses @bitchchatter

#duncan shepard #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shephard imagine #duncan shepherd fanfiction #duncan shepherd fanfic #duncan shepherd smut #house of cards duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd house of cards #duncan shepherd x you

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angel-deux-writes · 4 years

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50 questions

I was tagged by @agirlnamedkeith :)

What is the colour of your hairbrush? Orange

Name a food you never eat: Mushrooms. I just hate ‘em. Also don’t like seafood!

Are you typically too warm or too cold? Probably too cold, but that’s because being too warm bothers me more. So I’d rather keep my heat set at like 62 than risk being too warm. It’s much better for my eczema.

What were you doing 45 minutes ago? I think probably putting another load of laundry in? I’m trying to tidy up because my sister might be coming to work from home here later, and I have been living in a mild mess for weeks lmao.

What’s your favourite candy bar? Reese’s. Does that count as a bar? Let’s say yes. The eggs in particular!

Have you ever been to a professional sports game? I used to go see the Red Sox sometimes as a kid, once in Tampa Bay while we were on vacation. I went to see FC Barcelona play while visiting a friend (real talk: I probably would not have gotten on that plane if not for the fact that I really, really loved FC Barcelona at the time lmao. it was great to see my friend again, but I was terrified of going on vacation alone in a country I’d never been to! I didn’t even speak spanish at all before that trip! When I hyperfixate I will do ANYTHING lmao). I’ve also been to DC to see Barcelona play (terrifying. tiny planes. would not recommend. It ruled, though, and I got to take my brothers, which was nice). And several times to see Brazil’s national team play at Gilette, which was much easier, because it was like 20 minutes away from my house.

What was the last thing you said out loud? some variation of “oh for fuck’s sake” because I thought the dudes doing my neighbor’s basement renovation had stopped drilling, and then they picked back up.

What is your favourite ice cream? cookie dough of some kind? though I’m also a big fan of anything black raspberry.

What was the last thing you had to drink? coffee!

Do you like your wallet? I do! It was a gift from my mother, like, five birthdays ago? So I probably need a new one, but it’s cute.

What was the last thing you ate? .......i had a fruit roll-up. I’m turning 31 in a few days, and the last thing I ate was a fruit roll-up.

Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? I can’t remember if it was this weekend or last weekend but I DID order a shirt from Redbubble that says “anders was right” lmao

What’s the last sporting event you watched? it was probably a Red Sox game? I used to watch them with my dad back when I could, you know, hang out with him without fear of passing a deadly disease to him and my mom!

What is your favourite flavour of popcorn? butter, tho that caramel corn I always get at Christmas is nice too.

Who is the last person you sent a text message to? My sister to tell her that the dudes next door are STILL DRILLING and that she might want to rethink coming over.

Ever go camping? Nope! Hate even just the idea of it. My dad goes camping with his childhood friends every year, and every time they describe it, it makes me want to die.

Do you take vitamins? Nope! I used to, but then i ran out, and I haven’t bought any since then. I used to take fish oil pills because my dermatologist thought it might help with my eczema, but it didn’t.

Do you go to church every Sunday? Church? what’s that?

Do you have a tan? Never in my life. I am very pale, and turn red very easily. I’m slightly red right now because I spent maybe an hour hanging out on my parent’s deck over the weekend lmao. Also I’ve been going on a lot of walks lately, so I’ve got a lot more freckles on my face than I used to!

Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza? Chinese food. Shouldn’t eat it, because I am allergic to soy, but I accept the stomach aches that come with it.

Do you drink your soda through a straw? Not anymore. I did when I had invisalign, though. I wasn’t supposed to drink ANY sort of soda or coffee with the invisalign in, so I was like “well, what if I use a straw”, and I never got yelled at by the orthodontist, so it must have worked.

What colour socks do you usually wear? I almost exclusively wear socks from Sock it To Me, so they’re all sorts of patterns. I also have a lot of Star Wars socks, because one of my Christmas gifts for the past few years has been a sock advent calendar!

Do you ever drive above the speed limit? I’m from Massachusetts, so...... yes.

What terrifies you? Everything? I’m gonna go with lava. I really hate lava.

Look to your left. What do you see? My phone.

What chore do you hate most? Washing dishes. It’s gross, first of all, and the eczema constantly on my fingers means that the extra hand-washing is literally painful.

What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? lately? @slipsthrufingers lmao

What’s your favourite soda? Probably cherry coke?

Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thru? Drive-thru whenever possible.

What’s your favourite number? 15

Who’s the last person you talked to? My sister and her boyfriend as I was leaving their house, probably?

Favourite cut of beef? idk man, I just eat whatever is put in front of me.

Last song you listened to? Something from my Outrun playlist.

Last book you read? GENUINELY cannot remember. Reading has not been fundamental these past few months. I started Michelle Visage’s book, let’s go with that.

Favourite day of the week? Friday, probably

Can you say the alphabet backwards? Probably if I think enough about it!

How do you like your coffee? with creamer in it!

Favourite pair of shoes? A pair of converse with rainbow bottoms, I think. I also have a pair of gray boots from American Eagle that I love.

Time you normally get up? I used to get up at 4:40, but lately it’s been 7, because I don’t have to commute anymore lmao.

Sunrises or sunsets? Sunsets!

How many blankets are on your bed? Currently none, because i’m washing my sheets. Usually 3-4

Describe your kitchen plates. Some of them have apples on them, some of them are plain with a green border, and some of them are easter plates with rabbits!

Describe your kitchen at the moment. Teal, small, and messy!

Do you have a favourite alcoholic drink? I love a mojito. Also just...whiskey? of any kind?

Do you play cards? I prefer not to!

What colour is your car? Teal-ish blue!

Do you know how to change a tire? I certainly do not

Your favourite state? probably Massachusetts? I haven’t ever lived anywhere else lmao

Favourite job you’ve had? One summer I worked for my dad’s friend putting stickers on envelops and folding them and counting them and putting them in bigger envelopes, and I fucking loved it. Just mindness nonsense. I guess this job is good too, because I actually get paid and have benefits, but editing tech reports is VERY boring.

How did you get your biggest scar? I had one on my knee for a while that finally went away a few years ago, but it was from falling off a jungle gym at school! There was a gap that was slightly too big for my elementary school body, and I fell probably like 6 feet and landed hard on the pebbles that were scattered beneath it! A few of them were embedded pretty deeply in my skin, and there was this gross flap that was hanging open. They ended up replacing the rocks with sand because of me lmao. But now I guess it’s probably just my biopsy scar from back when they were trying to figure out if my weird rash was eczema or something worse! It’s never really healed right!

I’m not sure who else has been tagged so i’m gonna hit @slipsthrufingers since I already tagged her in this for the accent question lmao

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mankindthepodcast-blog · 4 years

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When Donald Trump said on Friday March 13th that he “doesn’t take responsibility at all” for his administration’s response to the COVID-19 pandemic, he violated one of the key attributes necessary for any leader to effectively lead: #ownership. Further, when he denied any knowledge of his administration’s dismantling of the Pandemic Response Team, he again violates this fundamental truth of what constitutes a strong leader.

In his book, “Extreme Ownership”, former Navy SEAL Jocko Willink explains that a “#leader bears full responsibility for explaining the strategic mission, developing the tactics, and securing the training and resources to enable to the team to properly and successfully execute.” Nowhere in his response to the recent outbreak has Trump exemplified this. Instead, he passes the buck to Dr. Anthony Fauci, “Tony”, as he affectionately refers to him, “do you know anything about that?” He passes the buck and ultimately blames the circumstances and a defunct system for the lack of expert response. He actually goes on to pat himself on the back for the measures he and he alone have taken to stop the spread of this coronavirus.

When we as citizens of the United States are led by someone with such a lack of #humility and #empathy, we feel distanced, isolated, and unable to meet the challenges head on. What Trump should be doing instead, is accept responsibility, transparently explain the situation we’re in, and provide a clear plan for further action. Instead, we’re left to follow whatever advice our news outlets give us, be they biased or misinformed.

With that said, I am personally trying to figure out what my role in all this is. What is needed of me right now? I’ve been asked to stay home to prevent the spread of the coronavirus so my options are somewhat limited. I’m not a trained professional, such as the nurses and doctors who are on the front lines of this war, so what impact can I make that might be helpful?

Maybe I should do what one of my heroes, Matthew McConaghey eloquently suggests in one of his recent instagram posts: “take care of my own, so you can take care of your own”. As I sit on my front porch of my South Pasadena home on this idyllic Spring morning, I’m doing my best to make sense of this situation and “take care of my own”.

My fiancé recently said to me, “Scoot, you know, I’m really relying on you here. I see you as a leader in this situation.” I’m glad she mentioned that, otherwise I wouldn’t have realized the very important role I have been fulfilling for her in this very uncertain time. “What specifically have I been doing that you find helpful?”

When our power went out suddenly yesterday, I immediately called the Edison Company to determine the nature of the outage. When Summer had developed a rash on her back, I immediately called a dermatologist to setup an online appointment. When our microwave had been acting up, I called the company and asked them to come over at their next convenience. These were swift, decisive measure I took. In other words, I owned the problem.

I’ve been fortunate enough to work for one of the best leaders I have ever encountered, Hans Luttman, one of the Managing Partners and all-around badass behind Rossoblu, a five star Italian restaurant in the heart of Downtown LA. Since I started working there, Hans has exemplified leadership to its very core. Every night of work is a masterclass is gracious leadership.

Whenever a guest complaint arises, he owns the problem. He doesn’t pass the buck onto one of his subordinates, a server, or a guest. It becomes his problem and he immediately does anything and everything in his power to correct the issue. When a change in plan is enacted from the management, he immediately and transparently conveys the need for the given change, and stands behind it throughout the entire duration of its execution. I’ve been lucky to be in the same radius as this pivotal example of leadership for over two years now.

During this time of statewide #lockdown, he and Chef Steve Samson have been providing “employee meals” for the dozens of families of our restaurant employees affected by the closure. It’s a remarkable gesture of generosity and further exemplifies Hans’ desire to take care of his employees, another cornerstone of strong leadership. As I am served so generously by these exemplary leaders, I ask myself: What can I do to rise to the challenge? How can I be a leader?

Take care of my own. The well-being of my fiancé is first and foremost. Beyond that, I’m taking steps to learn new skills. In my role as an actor, I have engaged more heavily with casting directors via their online resources. Bonnie Gillespie has given numerous free online webinars where she explains the nature of the industry shifts from her vantage point. In my role as a creative thinker and artist, I’ve looked to the advice and guidance offered by leadership mentor Lewis Howes by enrolling in several of his online webinars.

Its time to “pivot and shift” as Howes put it in a recent statement. The world around us is changing and it’s up to us on both an individual and collective level to meet the changes. The buck stops with me. I must become the leader that is being asked of me. How are you meeting the challenge?

#leadership masculinity manhood mankindthepodcast rossoblula hansluttman stevesamson lewishowes bonniegillespie schuylermastain #mcconaghey #owntheproblem extremeownership takecareofyourown takecareofmyown jklivin

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essenceofarganoils-blog · 4 years

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