#Nurse Lane

[baubeautyandthegeek]

God Help The Outcasts – Christine “Ziggy” Berman/Mary Lane

A/N: The final alt for @augustofwhump

Outcast. Freak. Witch. Demon. Monster. All words she’d heard during the camp. All words she still remembered even as she shut herself away with only Major Tom for company…. And then things change. Deena comes to her for help. Deena finds the truth and she believes it entirely too easily. She’s still the outcast even then. Even when it’s all over. Then she sees it. The book, the book Cindy picked up that night, the book she’d brought home. Mary. Nurse Lane. She could try reaching out… one last time. She’s an outcast…. Always had been. Mary, Nurse Lane, hadn’t ever looked at her that way, all she could do now was hope it was still the same way, even when she hasn’t been able to really stay in contact since Cindy. Mary had welcomed her slowly, looking more than a little unsure at first, watching even as Christine, Ziggy, seems to falter, hovering on the edge of crying, looking more than a little afraid. Later, much later, she’ll admit that the choice to let Ziggy in came slowly, pushed by not only the way she can tell that Ziggy is fighting the urge to run away, run home, but by a need for company. Her choice, in the end, is right.

[threephantomrey]

it was so heartwarming when Ziggy reunited with Nurse Lane at the end of 1666 and gives her back the journal, and then they hug🥺

[a-titty-ninja]

「The Squad」 by D.I.S.H | Twitter

๑ Permission to reprint was given by the artist ✔.

[shanks]

ABP_ART

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for ZepysGirl; the wet nurse omegaverse. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

After a few minutes, Lois’s car finally turns onto the main road and pulls through the front gate, and tension visibly drains out of Clark’s shoulders. At this point, Bruce feels tension drain out of his own shoulders. Lois rolls up the long drive and parks directly in front of the steps, arching an eyebrow at them through her car window. Which–obviously she does that, yes. Neither of them have met her at the manor door before, much less outside the manor door. Much less together. 

“New candidate another bust?” she assumes resignedly as she gets out of the car, the corners of her mouth pulled just a little tighter than usual. It’s a fair assumption, under the circumstances. 

“No,” Clark says, and attempts to smile. “We actually–Chris feral-bonded with him, actually. He’s with him right now.” 

“He what?” Lois blinks in bewilderment, pausing in the middle of closing the car door. “That’s–then why do you both look like somebody just kicked your dogs?” 

Bruce doesn’t dignify that comment with a response, because he has better control of both his face and his pheromones than that and they all know it. Lois is just reading the distress off Clark, who she knows much better, and extrapolating his own state of mind from there. 

. . . besides, Ace isn’t that easy to kick. Obviously. 

“Chris pup-called when Clark was bringing him down to the parlor,” he says instead, phrasing it as carefully as he can to avoid upsetting Clark’s inner omega while still explaining the situation clearly to Lois. She’s more than intelligent enough to read between the lines, either way. “I think the feral bond might’ve triggered the moment the wet nurse heard him. He reacted . . . very noticeably, let’s say, even with it being a Kryptonian pup-call. And as soon as he had eyes on Chris, he went straight for him, took him out of Clark’s arms without asking or acknowledging him, and nursed Chris right there without even sitting down. Before we’d even looked at the contract, in fact, much less hired him. Which–well. Feral bond, so . . . not particularly surprising, there. And he’s a stray, apparently, so I doubt that helped.” 

“And Chris was good?” Lois asks, still looking bewildered. “I mean–he kept the milk down and all?” 

“So far, at least,” Bruce says. “We’ll have to see how it digests and how much nutritional benefit he actually gets from it, obviously, but . . .”

“He nursed Jon too,” Clark says, and it comes out–abrupt, perhaps. Abrupt and tight and almost blurted. 

Bruce did not avoid upsetting the other’s inner omega, clearly. 

“He what?” Lois says, staring at them. 

“Jon came into the parlor after the feral bond was established and the wet nurse offered him a snack,” Bruce clarifies, and doesn’t say a wet nurse who could practically pass for a younger version of your wife just took care of BOTH of your pups in a way your wife very literally CAN’T and they’re both currently off fawning over him, and Clark’s past trauma and terminal sense of responsibility are both having difficulty handling that fact, obviously. 

But, again, Lois is more than intelligent enough to read between the lines.

“Ah,” she says, blinking slowly.

[burnertracfone]

一之瀬アスナ by くせ

[kasperikapanenisbetterthanyou]

hockey team thickness - Edmonton Oilers 2024 VERSION (roster as of 27.07.2024)

[thefigureresource]

Manchester : Midnight Devil in White [Azur Lane] 1/4 scale from FREEing coming August 2024.

[tigerballoons]

One of the great things about The Charioteer is the way we're so thoroughly inside Laurie's head. We're right there with him overthinking things, worrying, being so convinced of his interpretations. And there are times we can see that he's completely wrong. Other times it's more subtle though and you're ambushed by the realisation that just because he thinks something so confidently, it's still just his opinion and not actual fact

[laneaconite]

Treatment

“Take this pill,” They say.

Take this pill and it should work

 In a month,

                    Three months,

                                            Six.

Take this pill,

And it will make you tired.

                                        They all make you tired,

Because they act on the brain, 

                                                  You see.

Take this pill,

“We’re sorry the others didn’t work.”

We will smile

                    Sympathetically.

                                                 We do care.

Take this

            Pill.

                  It will make you dizzy.

Take this

            Injection.

                           Since it is treatment resistant

Now.

It will hurt,

                 It will make you itch.

You can still keep taking the old ones,

                                                         In case they end up working

                                                                                                          Too.

Take this pill,

                      It should work in one month,

                                                                    Three months,

Six.

No, we don’t know

                               Why this is happening.

We don’t know

                     How to fix it.

Your blood screening was

                                           Normal.

Your CT scan was

                                Normal.

Take this pill.

-Lane Aconite,

March 5th, 2023

[l-crimson-l]

Holy Fuck it’s a Percy Skin

[a-titty-ninja]

「インプラカブル Implacable」 by AbP_Art | Twitter

๑ Permission to reprint was given by the artist ✔.

[shanks]

SG / satoumogumogu

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for ZepysGirl; the wet nurse omegaverse. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Ah,” she says, blinking slowly. Her car keys are in her hand, and she hasn’t put them away yet. Clark is attempting a neutral smile and not even remotely succeeding at it. “. . . alright, then. What’s his name?” 

“Carl,” Clark says, still attempting the smile. 

“‘Carl’ what?” Lois asks. 

“. . . um,” Clark says, then glances to Bruce. The fact he actually didn’t notice it on any of the paperwork is definitely proof of how upset he is. 

“Carl Krummett,” Bruce supplies. “Allegedly.” 

“‘Allegedly’?” Lois cocks an eyebrow. 

“We’re not sure he wasn’t trafficked,” Bruce says without mentioning the equally likely or possibly simultaneous option of and he also might be underage, and thinks–well, it’s slightly immoral, maybe, to use Carl’s apparent circumstances in an attempt to soothe Clark’s instincts a little, but if it works . . . “He can’t be a day older than twenty and apparently was handling multiple clients before being assigned to our case, and the agency representative informed us he had a ‘detachment disorder’ about five minutes before he imprinted so strongly on Chris that he didn’t even put him down to nurse Jon. And also he has absolutely zero understanding of or familiarity with pack manners, which we learned when the representative offered to arrange an alpha for him without actually consulting him and he didn’t understand what she was talking about.” 

“. . . so like, legally, how long is it gonna take to investigate this agency?” Lois asks. “Do I need to get out my lockpicks again? Because I can do that. I can definitely do that.” 

“I was going to start with hacking their computer system first, but I’ll keep the offer in mind,” Bruce replies wryly. 

“You know there’s always something good in the actual physical files,” Lois says, then sticks her middle finger through her kitschy Gateway City keyring and spins it around it. 

“You’d be amazed how many people feel increasingly secure in backing up damning information to the cloud,” Bruce replies in a deadpan, and Lois snorts, then spins her keys again, looking–calculating, Bruce supposes he’d say. As if she’s doing the math on the situation, or maybe just double-checking it. 

“Chris really nursed from him?” she asks. “How long did it take to convince him to?” 

Clark–grimaces, just barely. Bruce responds before he has to. 

“Nothing,” he says. “Chris pup-called, Carl went into feral drop and they bonded, and then Christ chirped for him and started nursing first thing the moment Carl pulled his shirt up for him. No hesitation, even after tasting it wasn’t Kryptonian milk.” 

“. . . huh,” Lois says, and blinks slowly again. 

“We’ll have to track Chris’s weight and blood work, obviously,” Bruce says briskly. “Keep an eye on what nutrients he’s not getting and try to arrange supplements until we can actually get an acceptable formula synthesized for him.” 

“Bruce, you’d do that even if we didn’t need to synthesize supplements and formula for him,” Lois says dryly, then glances carefully to Clark, whose posture and expression would both be politely neutral if they were just the slightest bit less stiff. “Clark, sweetheart–”

[fountainpenguin]

Hc: tootie’s actual name is trootie, but she couldn’t pronounce it years ago and it stuck with her

That's similar to my headcanon. I gave her the spelling Trudy, although "Tootie" was used as a nickname (like Tootsie Roll).

I did a search to see if it comes up in my files, and here's a scene I wrote in 2020 that makes me laugh (ft. aged-up Tootie now using her birth name):

Molly looked curiously at Trudy, tapping a finger against her lip. “Didn’t she move to some small country in Europe with her boyfriend or something?” “Husband, actually. She’s really the queen of this micronation they rule together.” Trudy’s eyes turned misty behind her glasses. “I wonder how she’s doing right now.” Since Tootie asked a valid question, we may as well pause our brunch date for a moment and take a brief trip one million million miles away from planet Earth. At that precise moment, Queen Victoria could be found sprawled across her royal mattress (which was, of course, stuffed with wads of cash for extra padding) in her second-favorite set of skull and crossbone pajamas, snoring half-contently. Each of her arms hugged a fat sack of coins with a ridiculously elaborate Yugopotamian money symbol printed on its front in blue. The covers tangled around her legs in a cyclone, which was the only reason she hadn’t completely rolled off the bed to the floor. Rolled off the side, it’s possibly worth mentioning, that her husband normally tried to claim for himself whenever he spied enough room to place a tentacle. As for her husband? King Marqavalier had just made the mistake of attempting to hold his wife’s pale human hand in her sleep. The death-defying trial proved successful on occasion, but that night turned out not to be tonight. He was now rinsing himself down furiously in the royal bedroom’s private muckpool wing, mumbling a variety of incoherent curses he’d picked up during his time on Earth, even though he wasn’t certain what they meant and happened to be using every single one in all the wrong ways. Back in their bedroom, Vicky murmured in her dreams and rolled over to cuddle with a third bag of taxes she had personally collected from the royal manure connoisseur earlier that day.

Along the Cherry Lane

Tootie growing up to live a relaxed life because her sister is in a loving relationship with an alien who adores her and she gets to rule over a bunch of people who are super into her way of threatening them with axes, my beloved...

Actually, do you think Mark gets huffy when Vicky threatens their subjects with weapons? We know driving a spear into the tentacle is a courtship signal for Yugopotamians and I feel like he probably had to have some talks with her about why she can't just attack people.

Vicky at a royal banquet: /throws an axe at the butler Mark: I'm being cheated on

Of course, the beauty of their relationship being that Mark spent 50+ years on Earth learning human culture, and would probably NOT interpret this as cheating and would instead interpret it as super hot the way he did when his ex almost sliced him to bits and threw him in the dungeon, but-

[nicolettecallednikki]

Not Smokey stealing his girl and then telling him he's too dumb to run a gang. RIP Rusty James, your unibrow will always be iconic