#amyway
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#edit: mv1.cl16#lestappen#x: edit#charles leclerc#max verstappen#ta. da?#what am i dodeoieoiaheoifhaefkjdfadsds#UGH#amyway
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Hate when I have the day off and my parents ask me to do something and proceed to go ' you have the whole day!' Like do you not realize how short a day is? And if I have something going on at ALL its even fucking shorter?
#raghhh#hate#it makss me so frustrated#cause a day off to them is oppurtunity to get things done#but i need almost a whole day to recover from the work week#and i have a weekly hangout on fridays so fhat makes it feel shorter#amyway#sorry to complain#im judt tired
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this pic makes me cry the way hes hunched the one headphone on the way hes got his feet over one another to keep warm THE WAY HES HUNCHED the way hes hunched girl i cant do this im soft but also im cackling
#the fucking#gatorade or whatever it is#radioactive looking blue drink#nit gatorade i forgot th4 name#idk#amyway#id die 4 him#george daniel#the 1975
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Part I – Part II ... Part IX – Part X
Peter knows the smell of blood, knows the smells of fear, and sweat, and anger.
It's muted as he surfaces to consciousness, but still there, and even before he's opened his eyes, he's loosening his tongue, trying to drag moisture into his mouth, ready to issue orders or reassurance.
“Your majesty,” says a quiet voice, musical and wispy. “Lie still. You have suffered a grievous hurt.”
“Indeed?” he mumbles.
Hurt, wounds, blood… and enough memory returns
“Edmund?” he croaks, prying eyes open to light that seems too sharp, and there is movement, boots on stone, a dark head blotting out some of the light.
“I am here, brother, and unhurt,” Ed says quietly, and Peter would relax, but for the cough that climbs from his dry throat, and then another, and another, wrenching at his abdomen, so that at last he feels the pain, quick and hot.
Ed’s arm is under his head, lifting it just enough to hold a cup to his lips, and half the water ends up elsewhere, but enough gets down his throat to ease the terrible spasms, and he closes his eyes tightly, turns his face into the crook of Edmund's elbow, damp fabric of a sleeve cool against his forehead.
“Your majesty, you were not supposed to wake this soon. The knife carried poison, and my antidote is still taking effect. I have only begun to poultice and bandage the wound.” There is a pained edge in the hare's voice, an apology, but also frustration, towards herself, Peter guesses.
He tries to lighten his voice, but the pain radiating up from his right side is still abhominable, and the hand he holds out to her shakes slightly.
“Peace, Drybones. Continue your work, and I will bear it.”
He lifts his head from Ed’s arm just enough to see the hare take his hand, feels her whiskery kiss brush over his knuckles, before Ed lays him flat again.
“Wait,” he murmurs up at his brother, before the younger king can step away. “What happened to the assassin?”
Ed’s eyes seem to deepen, brown shading to black in their depths, but his expression does not change.
“Dead. But he had a letter in his purse, describing his charge, and we have removed from Lord Alcsace's keep into the town. The people at least are with us.”
“Ah.” Peter's acknowledgement twists into a gasp, chokes off into silence as he clamps his teeth together.
He is fully aware of his body now, and he thinks he can truly feel the battle in his veins, the antidote against the poison, every beat of his heart a strike for one or the other, fire creeping across his abdomen, up to his chest.
“Aslan,” he breathes, screwing his eyes shut, and then cool hands take his, loosen the wild grip he's taken on the sheets beneath him.
Above him Edmund's face blurs, but Peter understands the squeeze of his fingers well enough. He anchors himself to his brother, a sure and steady thing in the haze of agony, setting his teeth against the battle, forgetting to breathe until Ed’s reminder reaches him.
Some interminable time later, the pain begins to ease, and the moment that registers in his mind, he lets go, and tumbles down into the exhausted shade of sleep.
When he wakes, it is to flickering lantern light in the cool of night, the faintest of breezes touching his face from the open window, and he lies still, relishing the quietness in his body, and sniffing at distant jewlberry blossoms and woodsmoke.
A stirring nearby, and he turns his head on the pillow to see Edmund rise from a low stool, where he has been leaning against the wall close by Peter's bed.
“Do not try to rise,” Ed says softly, moving to the table, pouring a cup of water, and Peter smiles a little as the light catches on the clear stream falling from the lip of the jug. “Drybones does well as a healer, but she has none of Lucy's cordial.”
As before, Edmund's arm is strong under his shoulders, and Peter does not try to speak till he has drunk two cups of water and half a third.
“Well,” he murmurs, “I for one am glad our little sister isn't here.”
Ed nods curtly, drifts back to the table to pour a drink for himself. “Thank Aslan. Lord Alcsace knew of her reputation. She would have been their first target.”
Precisely.
“Have you sent any communication home?”
“Only a note with Sunleaf, and she is under orders to answer no questions and return at once. Merely saying we have met with an ill welcome on Lord Alcsace's part, and will make it known if we require aid.”
“Well done,” Peter murmurs, and something in his brother’s back relaxes.
“For now, the common folk hold him at bay,” Edmund adds. “We may either leave with our tails between our legs like kicked puppies, and return later with an army, or stay and attempt something diplomatic. But,” he adds as Peter begins to speak. “I run ahead of us. That debate will wait for the morrow, and our gathered council.”
Peter sighs, lets it go, listens to Ed tapping fingers on the wooden cup, the louder tap of his signet ring. The lamplight edges Edmund's face with gold, and Peter notes the firmness of his jaw, and the dark stubble sprouting there.
A different kind of ache is building in his stomach, catching his attention. “Is there anything to eat?”
Now Edmund smiles properly. “Of course. I'll go see what Courser and Ariane have made. Though,” he adds over his shoulder, halfway out of the room, “you won't be allowed anything thicker than soup for the next day or so.”
“Mane,” Peter mutters after him, just to make that loving smirk grow as Ed stops just outside, turns to confer with what must be some of their retinue on guard.
Peter listens closely, picks out two satyr's voices, Trifon and Kostas, and he wonders where the wolves are; perhaps on patrol outside the house? That was certainly how he would deploy them.
Quite quickly food is brought, and under Drybones’s watchful eye, Edmund props Peter up with a cushion enough for him to eat, with a bowl in his hands, resting it on his chest when he tires. Ed sits on the low bed by his feet, tearing into some very brown but sweet-smelling bread slathered with a white butter, along with some well-salted meat, while Peter is forced to carefully spoon up his own intensely uninteresting soup, though it tastes well enough.
He notes the fervor with which Ed falls to; he must not have taken food in all the time Peter had been sleeping.
The soup is warm and soothing, no doubt infused with a healing physic of one kind or another, and Peter feels himself relaxing again. When it is all cleared and Drybones spreads a grass mat on the floor to Peter's left, the old hare is humming a whispering breezy song, singing not quite under her breath as she stetches out her paws and flops down on her side. Peter's eyes drift shut.
He snaps them open again at the scrape of wood on wood, blinks over at Edmund, taking a seat on his low stool again, sitting on Peter's other side, naked sword laid across his knees.
Only a single lantern remains lit, and shadows play across Ed’s face, making it appear thinner than usual.
“Truly?” Peter asks, sleep thickening and slowing his voice. “You are to sit up when there are guards at the doors, wolves at the windows, and the hare who once bit the head of a mad squirrel clean off is also watching over me?”
Peter ignores the faintly protesting squeak that interrupts Drybones's song, and keeps his eyes on Edmund’s, until his brother looks away.
“I shouldn't have let them separate us,” he murmurs. “I should have been there to protect you.”
Peter glances down at his side, the lump of bandages under his loose shirt at the bottom of his righthand ribs. The attack had come from the right, the place where Edmund was accustomed to stand, where so often Edmund was his shadow and shield, his righteous blade and quiet right hand.
Lord Alcsace had been right to separate them, and Peter had sadly been wrong to give him so much trust. He had turned away from the soldier walking on his right without thinking, and found a dagger buried under his ribs a moment later.
Assassination of the High King of Narnia is no small action to attempt, and Peter only prays to the Lion this will not end in war.
But that is a worry for the morrow.
“You are an ass, Edmund,” Peter grins softly. “I will need you fully alert for tomorrow's council. Do not make me command you to sleep.”
“It may not be my duty to guard you,” Edmund says, eyes drifting around the room, never still, “ but it will always be my honour.”
Peter presses his lips together, and shakes his head just a little. “Then at the least, lie beside me and guard me from there. You cannot argue that will make me even more secure.”
Edmund turns his head, looks straight at Peter as he rolls his eyes in the most un-kingly fashion possible. But he doesn’t argue, he compromises by sitting next to Peter's head, and taking his boots off, leaning back against the wall, stocking feet up on the sheets. He keeps his sword unsheathed.
Peter falls asleep to the clean smells of bandages and ointment, and close by the smell of an oiled mail shirt, leather, and the cool earthy scent of mist that is Edmund. He knows those scents well, and he knows he is safe.
Next
#this was actually a lot of fun to write with the more formal or old-fashioned way of speaking#peter's like 25 or something#i have decided that he and ed actually both begin to grow a beard at the same time#which is mildly embarrassing for peter since ed is four years younger than him#but then ed prefers to stay clean shaven anyway so peter gets to keep looking properly eldest#amyway#pevensie brothers#peter pevensie#edmund pevensie#my writing#narnia fanfiction#narnia
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This is the shit I'm talking about.
#god if any of my friends saw this this would be the end of me .#but. but but. i couldn't help myself#amyway#my art#soul eater#spirit albarn#cw suggestive#soul eater fanart
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you know. you know I know a fair few of us headcanon c!sherbert with like. actual wings. that don't move like eyltra. and move like birb. and um. did you know, that bird wings can't fly great in the rain because the pockets between feathers that are normally filled with air that allow them to be light and allow them to fly get filled up with water and it severely weighs them down. did you know that it makes it harder to fly. did you know that through a good chunck of seasons 1 and 2 it was fucking raining. did you know that in high-stress situations sherbert had used their wings to get away quickly. did you know that that would be much harder with this headcanon. did you know that volatile visions can be made much angster upon this realization-
#ive wanted to ramble about this specific but of birb things for a while#so here it is#yeah#human sized wings getting weighed down and then said human trying to fly cannot turn out well#and i know i used volitile visions for the angst example#but there are definitely many more through both s1 and s2#amyway#cue the angst that sage has been writing for multiple days#sage has thoughts and none of them are coherent-#sherbertquake56#fable smp#fsmp#a tag to help find my own posts
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Been through the fucking wars (went for a walk)
#rl shit#but ONCE AGAIN i was trapped by private property signs!!! i could have been back in half the time#if they disnt hem me in!!!#amyway
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I'm ok btw 🫶
#i should be used to creeps by now but. eh.#honestly maybe the fact i refuse to stop dressing like this is kind of my fault???#amyway
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watching a nitw analysis video rn and Im sooo mad theyre completely ignoring maes undiagnosed mental health crisis and saying she dropped out bc she wanted to be a kid again grrrr
#sasha.txt#this isnt even misreading the themes. this is just text like she says she dropped out bc of a breakdown??#I stopped watching bc it hit a bit too close but from a comment it doesnt seem to get better#but the vast majority of comments are really positive like am I missing smth here?? just to make a video about the themes of nitw and NOT#include mental health. weird to me personallh#amyway#vent
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A mating pair of golden silk orbweavers found in Summerville, South Carolina, by Ungoliant on bugguide.net. The male steals food from right out of the female's mouth! Or maybe she gives it to him? Either way, these are the benefits of having an extremely large wife.
#spider tag#< blacklist this if you dont wanna see spiders#spiders#amyway#im on a spider kick because of imminently losing that poll#and out of procrastination ive just been reading up on things#and i found these images and i think theyre funny#golden silk orbweavers are my favorite#also shout out to that one guy in the comments of another post on this site#that picks up these spiders all the time#and has never been bitten#probably mostly because theyre physically incapable#but who knows
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Feng wanted a pet snake for a while, specifically a ball python. It was definitely a tie between (about) 3 different morphs, a banana/pastel banana piebald, a pastel banana, or a black pastel piebald.
#i do recommend looking up images of all these guys!!#theyre very prebby#i absolutely adore the coloring of banana/pastel banana ball pythons#they are so pretty#piebald sankes are very pretty two and i love them so much#black pastel mixed with the piebald is like. so amazing and i cannoy begin to describe the little guys#i adore snakes and their mophs#(i had a hyperfixation on snakes for a while back when i was younger.#it never really went away)#amyway#this is your feng post for today#about snakes because ball python morphs are cool as shit and i think feng would absolutely adore anyone of these little guys#fable smp#fsmp#fengári#headcanon time!!#daily fengári things!!
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im obsessed w this new theme omfg i did so good
#i never miss#amyway#i am. IN LOVE. w mouche#tomorrow is my last day til january.....#ill return soon#dirt.paths
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Last time I took a deep dive into how the legal system in my story worked I ended up with a spinoff plotline about supervillain insurance fraud
i care so much about fictional morality and ethics but not in a lame ass "is this character/ship problematic" way. i'm cringe for other reasons.
#Summary of how that works: if you are kidnapped or injured in a supervillain attack and the (government funded) heroes fail to save you#you are entitled to a certain ammount of money unspecified because I didn’t want to go further than i had into details#anyway so there’s a guy who seems like he’s constantly being kidnapped and the protags think he’s plotting with them#turns out he is but not for anything nefarious he just fogured out since his registered power is literally everyone around him including hi#has wprse luck they dont question that he keeps getting kidnapped he just has his boyfriends play supervillain duo and keeps getting payout#amyway
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I love anya
#adeline.txt#anya loveposting#i found a tweet so baffling it made me laugh#it was like ''have fmc be damsel in distress who gets saved by a man every time again''#i was about to agree in the utena way but that person tweeted that unironically so lol#amyway
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@imsogayyippee thought you would enjoy this idk
please help me i cant stop making marble hornets comics to mcr lyrics
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brrrrrother they make college so confusing, and for what? so i can bumble into class all paranoid bout my courseload and have at least one teacher be like "just do the work and you'll get an A" while the others require you to give up an organ and your sanity to just barely pass with a C...
#just figured out my schedule for this semester and i want to kill lol#i get to drive 30ish minutes from one class to another that is on another campus that starts 40 minutes after the first...#like signing up it didnt say the second one was in person#i thought it was online which is why i let it slide initially having so little time between classes...#ugh#emailed the prof asking bout his late policy just in case... i wanns try to make it work cause god knows if i can find the same class again#amyway#college rant over#the possum speaks
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