#maternity care deserts

[odinsblog]

More than a third of US counties do not have a single medical birthing facility or the services of an obstetric clinician, causing health advocates to warn about the dangers of “maternity care deserts”, a new report says.

The report, issued by March of Dimes, an infant health non-profit, and published on Tuesday, found that 35.1% of US counties are what the group calls maternity care deserts, meaning there are no specialist medical services available to provide care.

These 1,104 counties are home to more than 2.3 million women of reproductive age, the report states, and in these counties in 2022, women gave birth to more than 150,000 babies.

The report says that women living in such care deserts and counties with low access to care are more likely to have poorer health before pregnancy, receive less prenatal care, and experience higher rates of preterm birth. Additionally, the researchers state that women in these areas face a 13% higher risk of preterm birth.

The states with the highest percent of so-called maternity care deserts were North Dakota, South Dakota, Oklahoma, Missouri, Nebraska and Arkansas, it added.

The researchers found that around six in 10 maternity care deserts were in rural areas, and nearly 70% of birth centers were in just 10 states.

In recent years, the report says that there has been a rise in hospital obstetric unit closures in the US and more than half of US counties have no hospital that provides obstetric care.

Since 2022, more than 100 counties have seen a decline in maternity care facilities, and according to the report, one in every 25 obstetric units has closed, leading to fewer choices for families, “increased stress, and greater travel times for birthing people”, the report reads.

In a news release after the report was published, March of Dimes’s chief medical officer, Dr Amanda Williams, called for systemic change and said that for too many US families, “the ability to have a healthy pregnancy depends on where they live” and “maternity care is still not prioritized in our country”.

The report states that the reversal of Roe v Wade by the US supreme court in 2022, as well as low health insurance reimbursement rates and payment structures have contributed to hospital closures and the decline in the OB-GYN workforce.

The report mentions that the reversal of Roe continues to impact how and where OB-GYNs train and deliver care.

(continue reading)

[hey-its-sybarite]

Post-Dobbs: State Legislation Is Driving OB-GYNs To Leave

State-level anti-abortion legislation is causing OB-GYNs to leave red states, causing a severe lack of care in certain areas, which are now called OB-GYN deserts or maternity care deserts. Even the people who were intending on having a child now can’t get care. I hope babies don’t suffer because their parents supported this hateful legislation.

[coochiequeens]

Even when American women good news there's a catch. Abortion is no longer illegal but North Dakota woman have to travel to Minnesota for abortion care and uf the chose to keep the pregnancy they have to keep in mind that 71.7% of counties in ND are maternal care deserts

Judge overturns North Dakota's abortion ban, citing 'a woman's fundamental right'

Burleigh County District Judge Bruce Romanick ruled that the state's abortion law violates North Dakota Constitution's due process protections. But the nearest abortion provider is in Minnesota.

Fernando Cervantes Jr. USA TODAY

A state judge overturned the North Dakota's near-total abortion ban on Thursday, making the procedure legal in the Republican-led state.

Burleigh County District Judge Bruce Romanick ruled that the abortion ban, which went into effect after Roe v. Wade was overturned, violates due process protections under North Dakota's state Constitution.

“The North Dakota Constitution guarantees each individual, including women, the fundamental right to make medical judgments affecting his or her bodily integrity, health and autonomy, in consultation with a chosen health care provider free from government interference," Romanick wrote in the ruling.

“Unborn human life, pre-viability, is not a sufficient justification to interfere with a woman’s fundamental right,” Romanick continued. “Criminalizing pre-viability abortions is not necessary to promote the State’s interests in women’s health and protecting unborn human life.”

see rest of article

71.7% of counties in North Dakota are considered maternity deserts, where drive times to a birthing hospital are over 30 minutes or more, the highest percentage in the continental United States

By Michael Standaert / North Dakota News Coop

September 03, 2024 at 8:00 AM

Dr. Ana Tobiasz, a maternal-fetal specialist at Sanford Health in Bismarck, said she has contemplated leaving North Dakota because of the state’s abortion ban.

The near-total ban on abortions in the state went into effect in late April 2023. It prohibits all abortions except for when the health of the mother is at risk or in cases of rape or incest, but only within the first six weeks of pregnancy.

The initial language of the law was amended to allow terminations of ectopic pregnancies, where a fertilized egg implants outside the uterus and would never lead to a birth.

See rest of article

[someforeignband]

🪱Wiggly Worm Wednesday!🪱

having thoughts about eddie and steve going to visit steve’s grandmother! (im spending the week with my nanna and am having thoughts)

It starts with this nebulous idea that Steve’s parents didn’t want to take care of Francesca’s mother after her husband died, so they moved Steve’s maternal grandmother to a 65+ community in Sun City, Arizona. Just like their son, they’d much rather ship off Franny’s mother instead of dealing with her needs. So, they leave sweet Cecilia in a massive 2,900 square foot condo in the Arizona desert, all by herself.

One afternoon in march, Steve gets a call from his Nonna. She explains she has had some plumbing issues and neither Franny, nor Richard is returning her calls. She complains that there’s palm fronds in her yard, and with the state of her back, she just can’t fix all of these things on her own.

“How do you feel about a trip to Arizona?” Steve would ask Eddie, after a two-and-a-half hour long conversation with his grandmother.

Thusly, a PanAm flight to Phoenix was booked. It was Eddie’s first time on a plane. Despite his nerves prior to getting on the flight, he has a marvelous time. Eddie discovers that he loves turbulence and puts his hands up and giggles the whole time.

Steve, to Eddie’s dismay, is the exact opposite. He squeezes the armrest the entire 3.5 hour flight. He can’t stand how relaxed Eddie is, not understanding how someone like Eddie could just be so calm.

Once they land, Steve tries to brief Eddie on his Nonna’s disposition. “She’s sort of a firecracker, Eddie. Very particular about pretty much everything. I’m sorry if she’s mean to you.”

Eddie tells him not to worry about it, assures him they’ll get through the weekend.

To Steve’s delight (and Eddie’s utter surprise), Nonna takes to Eddie like a fish to water. He can talk about the Bible with her. Wayne’s been pretty devout his whole life, so when Eddie makes a comment about her dish towel with Philippians 4:6-7 printed on it, Steve knows Eddie’s going to practically be family.

Cece is ecstatic to be able to show the boy pictures of Italia and tell him stories about her upbringing. She shows him pictures of Franny, pictures of her late husband, and her collection of photos of Steve’s baptism. It keeps Cece distracted, while Steve gets to work fixing her kitchen plumbing.

Steve can’t help but grin to himself like a madman as he tinkers with her pipes, listening to his Nonna and his boyfriend volley back and forth. Sharp as whips, the both of them, and god it was nice to watch Eddie get on with someone who was blood to him.

Steve didn’t have much family that bothered to be in his life.

It was nice.

And best of all— at least for Nonna— Eddie can eat her food. Eddie can seriously put it away. Steve stops after one helping of Parmigiana di Melanzane, but Eddie has two more servings, and saves room for dessert.

“Eat up, Edoardo,” Cece pats his cheek. “Too skinny, Stephano. You starving him?”

“Never, Nonna,” Steve laughs, shaking his head, watching Eddie shovel another spoonful into his mouth, grinning at Steve across the dining room table.

Despite the fact that they’ve been seeing each other for a few months, after dancing around each other for the better part of two years—Eddie’s feeling things about Steve fixing his grandmas plumbing, doing yard work, etc. The flush in Steve’s face, hands on his hips, complaining about the state of the yard: Eddie’s never felt more in love (and other tingly, warm sensations).

Further, Eddie watches Steve and Cece scream at each other in stilted Italian as she tries to pick up a scorpion and take it outside with her bare hands. Finally, after about forty-five seconds of screaming and the scorpion trying to wiggle away, Steve takes Eddie’s boot and smacks the thing with a scared squeal. It crunches under the sole and twitches a few times before dying on the salmon colored tile, guts splattered everywhere.

“You handled that well,” Eddie muses, once the whole ordeal is over, taking a dishcloth and floor cleaner, scrubbing at the thing’s guts.

“I couldn’t let her get stung. She’s seventy-nine!” Steve says, then shudders. “I never wanna do that again.”

Later that night, Eddie sips coffee out of a lumpy clay mug, a Stephano Original, while she and Steve play rummy. Catching eyes over the table, they smile at each other, knowingly. After a while, Eddie gets tired, slinking off to the office, where Cecilia had set him up with an air mattress.

Before Steve retires to the spare bedroom that night, his Nonna pulls him aside, wrapping him in a warm hug.

“Ti voglio,” She whispers, kissing his temple, smoothing his hair back.

“I love you too,” Steve answers quietly, thrown off by the unexpected display of affection.

“And,” She pauses, scrunching her dark eyebrows together, deciding exactly what to say. “I really like that boy, Stephano.”

Steve’s chest fills with warmth, not knowing exactly if she means what he hopes she means. But at that moment, he’ll take it.

“Me, too, Nonna.” He whispers, grinning at her. “Me, too.”

TAGGING ONLY @yours-etc!!!! WRITE SOMETHING I MISS YOUR WRITING

[fandomsandfeminism]

We found that maternal death rates were 62 percent higher in 2020 in abortion-restriction states than in abortion-access states (28.8 vs. 17.8 per 100,000 births). Notably, across the three years presented in Exhibit 4, the maternal mortality rate was increasing nearly twice as fast in states with abortion restrictions.

Perinatal outcomes are also worse in states with abortion bans or restrictions: in 2019, perinatal deaths (fetal deaths or infant deaths in the first week of life) occurred at a 15 percent higher rate, on average, than in states with abortion access (Exhibit 7).9 States with abortion bans or restrictions also had higher neonatal death rates in the first 27 days of life (4.05 deaths vs. 3.23 deaths per 1,000 births), as well as higher postneonatal mortality rates between 28 and 365 days after birth (2.16 deaths vs. 1.54 deaths per 1,000 births; data not shown).

Not that you needed the reminder than anti-abortion laws kill people.

But here we go.

[starlight-bread-blog]

My Interpetation of The Southern Raiders: Part 3 – Katara

Part 1 Part 2

Hello! Welcome to the final part of my series navigating through the discourse surrounding The Southern Raiders. In the first part I discuss A\ang and in the second part I discussed Zuko. Now that we've understood the people around Katara, I can discuss how they affected her and her choices. So, without further ado, let's begin!

——————

1. Where did this side of Katara come from?

Katara didn’t just become more intense and angry for an episode out of nowhere. It came from years of fury and grief simmering in her.

Kya’s death was a very defining moment for her. As opposed to her brother, whose defining moment was his father leaving him, it molded her as a character. It’s who she sees at the swamp, whereas Sokka just sees Yue. It’s how she connected with Jet, Haru, Hama and even Zuko.

Ever since that dark day, her mother’s death was looming over her, while also being an integral part of her. She lived her life knowing that incredible injustice had been done, and she was furious. At the same time, she wanted to be like her mother, taking care of everyone’s needs. But her anger festered inside of her, and her grief didn’t let go. This anger is what we see in The Southern Raiders.

Additionally, some of the anger she displayed during her arguments with Aang and Sokka can be traced back to Aang’s insensitive behavior I discussed in part 1. Katara is notorious for her maternal emotional labor, especially for Aang. In The Desert she puts herself in danger in order to pull him out of the avatar state, and she always offers her help when needed.

Now she wants to do something that goes against his personal beliefs and that’s how he’s treating her. Still, she doesn’t insult him. “I knew you wouldn’t understand” is what she said. His disapproval is to be expected. Then, her brother, who suffered the same loss, backs him up. And when combined with her anger at Yon Rha, she lashed out.

——————

2. Why did she spare Yon Rha?

Because it was never in her to kill in the first place. That’s not who she is. The anger was in her all along, but murder wasn’t. She was given a choice, and she chose not to. Zuko’s offer sounds bad, but there was never any danger of Katara killing Yon Rah in the first place, she simply wouldn’t do it.The only things that were on the cards were seeing him. The supposed dangers of it weren’t actually going to come to fruition, and in the end, Katara is in a better place after the trip.

But I do think it goes deeper than that. Katara is an idealist, often to the point of naivety. It’s why she trusted Jet over her brother, it’s why she was going to use the spirit water on Zuko back in the crystal catacombs and it’s why she thought blowing up the factory in The Painted Lady was a good idea.

For years the ideal of the perfect revenge on the Fire Nation who took her mother burned inside her. Suddenly she has a chance to execute this ideal, but reality smacks her in the head.

Katara: I always wondered what kind of person could do such a thing, but now that I see you, I think I understand. There's just nothing inside you, nothing at all. You're pathetic and sad and empty.

The man isn’t some scary boogeyman, and she will not kill him.

——————

3. How did her trip affect her?

Katara: [Rises from boardwalk.] But I didn't forgive him. I'll never forgive him. [Smiles at Zuko and walks up to him.] But I am ready to forgive you.

As I previously established, seeing Yon Rha was somewhat a reality check for her. It was her final step in her arc of becoming less naive. With this final ideal gone, she no longer holds this pent up anger at the Fire Nation. Thus, her arc is concluded, and she is ready to accept that the Prince of the Fire Nation can be her friend. (None of this would’ve happened if Zuko hadn���t made the offer. And that’s why ultimately, their trip was a good thing).

——————

In conclusion, Katara's anger stemmed both from years of it building up and a lack of support from her peers. But when it came down to go through with murdering Yon Rha, she couldn't do it. Because even if she forgot it, he is a person. She had a reality check and lets go of black and white notions of the world. Thus, she could forgive Zuko.

[altocat]

I know mommy issues are Sephiroth’s thing but like… what if Genesis had them to. Not in the way Seph does but more in the “the goddess is more of a mother than my actual mother” kinda way?

My personal hc on Genesis' mom...

Unlike Gen's father, who mostly just disapproves of his son's hobbies/effeminate behavior and uses him as a prop for his own gain, Gen's mother is mostly uninterested and kind of neglectful.

She isn't verbally abusive the way his father can be, but she rarely if ever spends any time with Genesis. She barely knows him, having never bonded with him in his infancy or even holding him longer than she was required to.

She's bored with her marriage, bored with Banora, and only really takes pleasure in using Genesis to one-up her snobby socialite "friends". It's the only time she shows him any real physical or emotional affection, specifically JUST when they are watching.

Genesis is spoiled and given all the toys and trinkets he could ever want, but he spends most of his early years just wishing his mother would at the very least PRETEND to like him when they're alone together. He'd give anything to see a genuine smile, a genuine bit of praise.

As he grows older, he spends more time with his father, though he doesn't particularly enjoy that either. He comes to resent his dearest dad just as much as his mother, retreating into books and poetry to escape the cruel reality that his parents don't really care about him.

The goddess IS the warm, maternal mother figure he always wanted. So much so that he doesn't realize that his mother actually adores stories and poetry and that they could have easily bonded over that if only they'd talked to each other.

As an adult, Genesis wants nothing to do with either of his parents. He sends them money so that they'll leave him alone. Other than that, he really could care less.

It's only when Genesis' life is in danger after his desertion that his parents finally come to realize how badly they've messed up, his mother especially. There is a brief waiting period in which both come together to admit their mistakes, that they didn't realize how much they love their son, how much they COULD have loved their son if only they'd been better parents.

But by then, it's too late.

[uncharismatic-fauna]

Fly Free with the Mexican Free-tailed Bat

Also known as the Brazilian free-tailed bat, guano bat, or Tadarida brasiliensis, this member of the order Chiroptera is one of the most widely-distributed New World bat species. They are common throughout the southern United States, Central America, and western South America. In many parts of the southern United States, the species is migratory and moves to Central America for the winter. They roost primarily in caves, but can also build nests in buildings; because of this, they can be found in a range of habitats including tropical and deciduous forests, mountains, deserts, and urban areas.

Like most bats, the Mexican free-tailed bat is nocturnal, emerging at sunset to hunt. They are primarily insectivores, and will travel great over 31 km (50 mi) to find food. In fact, this species holds the record for both the highest recorded flight altitude-- at 3.3 km (2 mi) high-- and the fastest flight speed-- an astounding 160 kph (99.4 mph)! That makes the Brazilian free-tailed bat the fastest mammal on Earth, although they can only achieve those top speeds in short bursts and with a good tail wind. Moving that fast can be useful, not only for covering great distances or catching insects, but for avoiding predators like raptors and owls. Young bats that can't fly may also be susceptible to opossums, skunks, and snakes.

The roosts of T. brasiliensis can be quite large; many contain several thousand individuals, while some have been recorded as housing more than a million. For this reason, communication is very important. Mexican free-tailed bats use echolocation to navigate and, for mothers, to locate their young. This species has over 15 distinct calls just for socialization. In addition, they can use their vocalizations to 'jam' the echolocation of other rival species and steal their prey.

Mating for the Brazilian free-tailed bat occurs once a year in the spring. Females gather in large maternity groups, while males mark out a territory by urinating and emitting loud vocalizations. Once a pair mates, the two separate- often to seek out another partner. Gestation lasts 11-12 weeks, and once females give birth they leave their offspring in a group of pups known as a creche, that is cared for communally. The pups take 4-7 weeks to be weaned, and after they learn to fly they join the larger roost as independent adults. However, females take up to 9 months to become sexually mature, while males may take as long as 2 years. In the wild, an individual may live as long as 8 years.

Size-wise, T. brasiliensis is on the smaller side of the bat group. Most individuals are around 9 cm (3.5 in) in length and weigh around 7–12 g (0.25–0.42 oz), with a wingspan of 28 cm (11 in). Females tend to be slightly heavier, but not larger otherwise. The tail of the Mexican free-tailed bat accounts for nearly half its total body length, and is unconnected by the thin membrane that makes up its wings (the uropatagium)-- hence the name 'free-tailed'. The ears are large and rounded, to assist with echolocation, and the muzzle is heavily wrinkled to give them a wider gape when catching bugs in mid-air. The Brazilian free-tailed bat's fur is dark brown or gray, with no distinguishing features save the long, white bristles around their feet.

Conservation status: The IUCN has classified the Mexican free-tailed bat as Near Threatened. However, populations are declining due to habitat destruction and susceptibility to a fungus known as white nose syndrome. Governments in the southern United States and Mexico, as well as private NGOs like Bat Conservation International, have established laws and conservation areas to protect the species.

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Photos

Michael Durham

Merlin D. Tuttle

Carlos Russi

[kataraslove]

I was just told a few days ago that they love momtara becauses it tragic that she has to do all the workd for people until of couse Zuko comes along to help out making it less tragic and that logic made zero sense. katara is not cinderella im not sure why her so called fans want her to be cinderella.. or a damsel in distress until zuko comes along its not very pro katara to me it feels the exact opposite.

there’s this really great thread made by my friend @rukihimehive on kataangthinker on twitter debunking momtara with evidence from the series. i highly suggest giving that a read if you’re as tired of the fandom adultifying katara as i am.

I’ve seen momtara enthusiasts say that anyone who is critical of the fandom trope is “taking away her maternal nature, which is associated with her trauma of having lost her mother from a young age.” in other words, “if you don’t support fandom’s insistence that katara is the gaang’s literal mother figure and interpret all her interactions with the gaang as motherly, you’re erasing her trauma.”

which is so ridiculous to me. in the episode the runaway, katara herself dislikes the label of motherly. she takes personal offence over the idea that the gaang would view her as their mother instead of their peer, and demands to know if it’s true that her behaviour comes across as too motherly, especially because “motherly” is associated with negative connotations such as “bossy,” and “overbearing.”

I’ve seen people state that the gaang’s treatment towards katara is unhealthy, that katara is forced to do all the emotional work and emotional labour and none of the gaang ever supports her in anything. which just isn’t even remotely true.

episodes like the desert - in which the gaang are under extenuating circumstances that forces katara to step up and take care of them - are the exception, not the standard. in bitter work, katara explains to toph on how they divide the chores amongst themselves. katara takes personal issue (and for good reason) when toph only wants to do her share.

there’s multiple episodes in which the gaang help pitch the tent and perform campsite duties. there’s a whole episode dedicated to how katara and sokka are both sick, resulting in aang having to run across the world to retrieve them medicine. there’s an entire episode dedicated to how the gaang cannot get anything done without sokka, who usually manages their schedules and itineraries and helps ensure that they’re on track. there’s plenty of moments in which aang and katara are goofing off, and sokka gets mad at them for not sticking to his carefully curated and meticulous schedule and for putting a wedge in their plans to save communities (see: imprisoned and the painted lady). there’s moments when toph assumes responsibility; there’s moments when aang assumes responsibility. and then there’s moments when none of them have any clue on what to do, when they literally act like children navigating a world that’s constantly trying to kill them.

and what about in katara-centric episodes? what about in the episodes dedicated to developing her character? surely the selfish gaang couldn’t possibly support and understand her goals and desires?

1. imprisoned - sokka and aang aide in katara’s plan to immediately get captured and free haru. aang takes her side when katara suggests to free the prisoners. aang and sokka aide katara in freeing the imprisoned earthbenders.

2. the waterbending master - aang rejects learning from a sexist because pakku refuses to teach katara. aang agrees to train katara everything he learns in the middle of the night. aang and sokka cheer katara on as she goes head-to-head with master pakku.

3. the puppetmaster - the gaang allows katara the opportunity to learn waterbending from hama, a southern water tribe bender, until they discover what hama’s been doing all along. sokka and aang rush to confront hama and to protect katara. later, they provide katara comfort after she breakdowns over learning how to bloodbend.

4. the painted lady - aang calls katara a secret hero for helping people in need, even though katara lied to the gaang and pretended that appa was sick. he later helps katara destroy the factory, and then aides in her plan to confront the fire nation soldiers as the painted lady.

sokka defends his sister’s actions:

“Maybe she is a waterbender, but she was just trying to help you. Because of her, that factory won't be polluting your river, and the army is gone. You should be down on your knees thanking her!”

the southern raiders - this episode is so misconstrued by fandom that every reading of it has become so far detached by canon. no, sokka and aang were not demonizing katara for believing that revenge was the suitable option for her (we find out in the episode that it wasn’t). yes, katara wanted far more than just confrontation (she said it herself - maybe revenge was what he deserved). no, aang was not demonizing katara for stating that her words reminded him of jet’s, who had died a noble death and who katara had personally mourned for. no, jet is not a terrorist and/or a psychopath - he was a child indoctrinated by propaganda and motivated by the death of his parents at the hands of the fire nation. aang and sokka do not interfere in katara’s decision to pursue the man who killed her mother, even if they felt that katara might end up killing that man. no, if katara had killed that man, aang and sokka would not shut her out or ignore her or make her feel subhuman. aang himself had several instances in which he would have taken several lives (sandbenders) if katara hadn’t stopped him. that’s why he says, “I’m proud of you,” because katara arrived at that moral decision on her own, without the influence of external sources (reminder that in the desert, katara had to physically stop aang). at the end of the episode, katara discusses with aang that forgiveness was not the approach she would take towards yon rha, but it was the approach that she would take towards zuko, who had earned her forgiveness.

in each of the above katara-centric episodes (with the sole exception of tsr, which I had described in great detail) the gaang understands katara’s goals and desires and helps her accomplish them, and protects and defends her. to me, that does not come across as a dynamic in which katara is overwhelmingly at risk and treated like absolute dirt. it’s actually quite telling on the quality of a fictional ship (or lack thereof) when fans must demonize katara’s friends and family in order to prop up her fanon love interest.

and when her fanon love interest DOES join the group, nothing… really changes in terms of the dynamics. he serves them tea occasionally? he tells sokka to get out of a bison’s mouth? katara still performs the cooking duties. katara still asks if zuko’s okay and makes sure that he’s included in group activities. the gaang turn to zuko because he is sufficient at hunting down aang, but they all formulate a plan for the comet together. one throwaway line informing someone to get out of the bison’s mouth and him being a strict teacher towards aang does not make him a dad. especially when none of the gaang truly see him as a dad and would probably die of laughing before even considering him as such.

that’s not to even mention the point of zuko’s arc when joining the gaang is not for him to assume an authority, paternal role over a group of kids younger than him (but around his age). it’s for him to finally realize that he belongs to a group of children as traumatized as him, to a family for once in his life. so why should fandom enforce him into a pseudo dad role that isn’t even canon nor would his character even want?

going back to katara, at her core katara is a young, fourteen year old child who has been forced to assume a motherly role to compensate for the loss of her mother. episodes like the runaway delve into how this trauma has forced her to grow up and act older than her age, but at the end of the day, she is still a child and does not wants to be viewed by her peers as some form of motherly figure. which is why it’s so important that characters like aang and toph remind her that she still is a kid, like them.

dark-skinned female characters like katara suffer from the phenomenon of adultification and hypersexualization in fandom spaces. their characters are treated as pseudo mother figures, irregardless of what the narrative could or could not outline for the audience. momtara is a problematic trope because it erases the nuanced dynamics in katara’s relationship with her friends and family, assuming that all interactions with the gaang are of her being their mother. and that canonically, that’s all katara can be towards them. especially in the interest of a ship.

[crevicedwelling]

Centipede orders/suborders tier list?

Scolopendromorpha - S

big, colorful, vertebrate-eating, beautiful tropical leaf litter dragons that are also great mothers. it’s hard to imagine a more perfect animal. 42 legs is, indeed, the meaning of the universe.

mediocre biodiversity and fairly similar designs but I’ll always say yes to more of the same, especially if it’s bright blue and the size of my forearm.

Scutigeromorpha - S

there’s some decent evidence suggesting these things have been the leggy, super-fast predators they are today for over 400 million years. prehensile legs, big compound eyes, dorsal spiracles, amazing regenerative capacity—one of Earth’s finest innovations no matter how ancient. being able to always find a few in the basement is also a plus.

awfully low biodiversity in this group probably a result a lack of interest in them. however, they’ve got a surprising amount of unique forms, from huge spindly tropical ones to tiny flat desert dwellers.

Geophilomorpha - B

one of the few animals to rival millipedes in terms of legginess, these long thin fellows are full of bizarre adaptations, with many species exhibiting maternal care, sticky chemical defenses, and interesting specialist diets. some can be quite colorful and may rival scolos in length, if not width. most are fairly bland to the untrained eye, however, and take some digging to locate; I count myself among the people who ought to know them better.

the most speciose group of centipedes, if that’s what you want to rank as success.

Lithobiomorpha - C

a symphony in brown and duller brown. thirty legs, a smattering of eyes, nothing that really stands out, but they’re nice in their own way. good at handling the cold, they’re a big presence in the leaf litter even in chilly northern latitudes. alas, I’ve only ever known non-native and rather uninspiring examples, so perhaps my relatively low ranking is just a poor sample on my part. I hope to revise this opinion someday.

there’s a good amount of lithobiomorphs, so it is a shame that they all look pretty much the same.

Craterostigmomorpha - D

there’s only two of these and they just kinda look like weird lithobs. I’m glad we have them still, I guess? perhaps if I ever make it down under and a bit to the right, I’ll see if I’ve been too harsh in judging them.

[letmehavemyfictionalmen]

Star Crossed; Star-Collide: chapter I

Summary: As a bounty hunter, Din has completed his mission, however, he is unbeknownst to the storm that will knock the wind out of him, literally.

pairing: Din Djarin x afab!Skywalker!reader

warning: 18+ content, Eventual smut, Unprotected sex, Violence, Blood, Age-Gap, Kidnapping, Domestic Bliss, Fluff, a sprinkle of Angst, Idiots in love, Flirting, possessive!Din, powerful!reader, Jedi!reader, Grogu being adorable, Grogu loves his Ma more than his buir.

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The Nevarro desert sprawls out before you, a vast canvas of parched earth that seems to stretch beyond the horizon. Endless dunes of golden sand undulate like a sea frozen in time, while jagged rocks jut out like the teeth of some great beast, scattered haphazardly across the landscape.

The winds whisper a mournful song, carrying with them the sense of utter isolation and a haunting desolation. There is no life in this forsaken place, only the vast emptiness of the shifting sands and a never-ending solitude that engulfs everything in its path.

The star above glows with fervor, its radiance spilling over the land, igniting a heat that suffuses every grain of sand. The air trembles with the sun's intensity, the weight of its brilliance pressing down upon the desert like a hammer.

As if locked in a dance with the arid earth, the sun paints the world in shades of gold and ochre, conjuring an austere beauty in the midst of its scorching assault.

You traverse the vastness of the desert, silence reigning supreme, broken only by the sound of sand crunching beneath your feet. The untamed essence of this barren land engulfs you, but you remain unrelenting, unwavering in your quest

The ivory of your Jedi robes glows against the ashen sand, stark and luminous against the muted desert backdrop. The black of your belt and boots adds depth to your monochrome attire, and your cloak, rippling behind you like a shadow, lends an air of mystery to your austere appearance.

Looking every bit of Obi-Wan’s apprentice, A hushed voice travels with the wind, caressing your ears. You recognize it instantly, the familiar timbre of your mentor Obi-Wan.

Gliding alongside you is Beeb, your trusty astromech droid, a blur of orange and white against the beige sand. Its head, round and dome-shaped, swivels with a keen and curious eye, scanning the endless surroundings.

The stillness of the desert is interrupted only by the gentle hum of Beeb's servos, harmonizing with the soft whisper of the wind.

You watch over him with a protective gaze, your heart filling with a maternal sense of duty. "Take care, little one," you whisper, your voice carried away by the hot winds.

Beeb zips back to your side, emitting a joyful chirp that resonates with the purity of a bird's song happily. Your lips curl into a crescent moon of joy, a twinkle in your eye as you witness Beeb's playful antics.

Beeb swivels his dome-shaped head, emitting a series of chirps and whistles that resemble a curious inquiry. ‘Mama, where are we going?’

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, as if carried on a breeze of mirth at Beeb’s innocent query.

Patting his metallic head and rubbing it as in a way to ruffle his hair gently. "There is a child, Beeb. We must rescue him from the Imperial Remnant." Your voice imbued with unshakable resolve.

‘A child! I get a sibling. That means R2D2 won’t tease me for being the youngest.’ Beeb lets out a series of excited chirps, almost child-like in nature. His head spins around in every direction, as if searching for the little one himself.

A beam of happiness spreads across your face at Beeb's enthusiasm, feeling a sense of warmth in your heart. It's been a long time since you've seen anyone so purely happy and carefree.

It reminds you of your own childhood, before the weight of the galaxy was thrust upon your shoulders.

"I know, Beeb. He's quite the special little guy. I can't wait for you to meet him." Your words are punctuated by a gentle laugh.

The little droid chirps with excitement, his movements quick and sprightly. You follow closely, trying to keep up with his energy as he rolls ahead, leading the way.

The endless expanse of desert still stretches out before you, but Beeb's child-like enthusiasm brings a sense of joy to the journey.

Together, you press on through the harsh terrain, Beeb's infectious happiness making each step a little lighter, each gust of sand a little more bearable.

Through the cacophonous streets of Nevarro, Din strides with a solemn gait, the metallic plates of his armor echoing a rhythmic beat that echoes through the throng of people.

The bustling market envelops the city streets, stalls brimming with wares to behold. Each vendor calls out to passersby, their voices echoing through the narrow alleys as hurried feet beat a steady rhythm on the worn stones beneath.

Din threads his way through the thriving market, the polished metal of his armor gleaming in the scorching sun, capturing the attention of every passerby.

Undeterred by the chaos of the busy market and the looks he receives, Din strides forward with a sense of purpose.

His attention remains steadfast on the task at hand, his thoughts consumed by the mission that has brought him back to this bustling city.

Din treads deeper into the maze of Nevarro's streets, slipping between shadows and darting through sunlight, his every step deliberate and steady as he navigates the twisting alleys.

As Din rounds the corner, his gaze falls upon the entrance to the clandestine Imperial facility, nestled amid the bustling Nevarro market. But in his periphery, a lone rubbish bin catches his eye, discarded and forgotten in the dusty shadows of the narrow alleyway.

Gazing into the dusty bin, Din beholds a heartbreaking sight - the remnants of the child's floating pram now shattered and broken beyond repair.

Din's heart sears with fiery pain, his gaze fixated upon the shattered remnants of the child's once safe haven. The pram, once a symbol of hope and protection, now lies destroyed, its pieces scattered amongst the filth and debris.

Regret grips Din like a vice, squeezing his heart with a brutal force as he recalls the moment he surrendered the Child to the Imperial Remnants.

His fists coil and release, a surge of guilt overwhelming him. A sense of failure seizes his heart, a heavy burden he bears as he paces the alley.

His mind whirls, seeking a solution to the wrongs he's allowed to befall the innocent. A plan he must devise, a way to redeem himself and rescue the Child from the hands of the Imperials.

A burden of guilt crushes his heart as he comprehends the peril that the Child faces. He senses the urgency to act, to save the innocent one from harm's way.

Filled with righteous fury and a burning desire for retribution, Din sets off on a path of vengeance.

For the Empire's cruelty to the Child, they will pay a fee. A debt that only he, the Mandalorian, can claim.

Prostrate atop a terrace, far removed from the grasp of the Imperial agents, Din steadies his gaze through the Amban sniper's lens, locked on the looming Imperial stronghold.

A soft touch to his helmet's earpiece and the mechanism within it hums with life, carrying distant conversations to Din's ear.

Static echoes in Din's ears, as he moves the sniper lens, trying the locate the Child, however, as he scans the base, his attention is drawn to a new scene unfolding before him: the thermal image of the Imperial client and Dr. Pershing.

Their voices, distant and distorted, crackle through his comms. He adjusts the frequency, tuning out the static until the conversation between the Imperial client and Dr. Pershing fills his ears like poison.

"I don't care." The Imperial clients travel through Din's comms. "I order you to extract the necessary material and be done with it."

The Imperial agent's orders blare through Din's comms, their cold and callous tones cutting through his heart like a blade. "I don't care. I order you to extract the necessary material and be done with it." they command as if the life of a child is nothing but a mere trifle to be disposed of at will.

For a while, the voices fade into the hiss of static, the words drowned in a sea of white noise.

With a gentle twist of the knob, Din awaits the return of the conversation, the static hum slowly dissipating, and the sound of voices filling the air once more.

The doctor's voice breaks the silence, his words dripping with obedience, "He has explicitly ordered us to bring it back alive."

"Finish your business quickly, as I no longer can guarantee your safety." The Imperial Client's words travel through the air, a warning of imminent danger.

The beskar helmet conceals the furrow on Din's brow, perplexed by the Imperial Client's cryptic words.

No longer guarantee the safety of the doctor? What is the Imperial agent talking about? Who was this threat that shook the resolve of this hidden Imperial base?

It fills Din with an unknown sense of relief as he realizes that the Imperial agents fear something to the point where they longer feel safe hiding here. For if they fear something enough to flee, then perhaps the Child may yet have a chance at survival.

Thoughts race through Din's mind as he surveys the scene, his voice muffled by the helmet that conceals his emotions. "What are they afraid of? Who is this threat?"

"It is I, they fear, Mandalorian."

A tense stillness grips Din's form, as a distinct hum, like a shrill electrical buzz, reverberates through the air behind him.

Amidst the chaos of his thoughts, a moment of reckoning grips Din like a vice, and he curses himself for his lack of vigilance. His eyes, once sharp and alert, now narrow with anger and frustration, as he realizes the gravity of his mistake.

With steady hands, Din relinquishes his grip on the rifle, previously trained upon the Imperial stronghold. Silently, with calculated precision, his hand glides downward, towards the leather holster secured to his left thigh, where the blaster rests within its sheath.

With quickness unmatched, Din draws his weapon from its sheath, rolling onto his back in one fluid motion. From this vulnerable position, he trains the weapon on the looming figure standing behind him, ready to defend himself against any threat.

Confronting him is a presence, tall and imposing. The figure is draped in flowing white robes, the starkness of which is accented by a contrasting black belt.

Behind them, a cloak of the deepest black dances in the wind, as if daring anyone to challenge the power of the one who wears it.

The figure holds a weapon that Din has only heard in a hushed tone, spoken in reverential tones and remembered with reverence, for those who wielded it were lost to the purge, gone without a trace.

The once-forgotten weapon, now in the possession of an enigmatic form, is wielded with practiced ease and lethal finesse, each hand brandishing one of the glowing blades.

Din offers gratitude to the stars above, for the knowledge imparted by the Armourer, which he now recalls as a child, the different variations of the lightsabers.

The Mandalorian's gaze fixates on the left hand of the figure, beholding the double-bladed lightsaber glowing in hues of royal purple, while the right-hand holds a dual-phased lightsaber emanating a vivid green radiance.

"A Jetii." Din's lips part, his breath caught in his chest as he beholds the figure before him, a being of power and ancient wisdom.

"A Mandalorian." The words uttered by the figure are infused with a sense of serenity, a voice of balance and control.

The voice of the figure reaches Din's ears, and a sudden realization dawns upon him. This is no mere figure, but a woman of immense power, her words carrying a weight that stirs something deep within him.

A shiver runs down his spine, as he realizes the magnitude of his opponent - a Jetii, armed with weapons of deadly prowess. He knows he stands no chance against such might.

Din's senses flare with a sudden urgency, and his body responds with a lightning-quick roll, narrowly evading the Jetii's sudden lunge. His muscles tense, his reflexes honed from a life of constant danger.

The graceful and deadly strike of her dual lightsabers slices through the air where Din had been just a moment before. The sound of the humming blades echoes off the surrounding structures, a symphony of danger and death.

Din's heart races with adrenaline as he quickly springs to his feet, his own weapons at the ready. He knows he's outmatched, but he refuses to go down without a fight.

Din regains his footing with a graceful sway, his blaster at the ready, aimed at the Jetii. Yet her movements are too swift, her form too lithe, as she sidesteps each shot with poise and ease, the double-bladed lightsaber a blur of purple, effortlessly blocking his every attempt.

Din grunts as he swiftly steps back, creating distance between himself and the woman. With fluid motions, he draws his amban rifle/spear from his back, ready for the woman's next move. As she lunges towards him with her green lightsaber, Din expertly parries her attack.

Din charges forward, his rifle at the ready, but the woman is too quick. She leaps over him, somersaulting in mid-air, and lands behind him. Before he can turn around, she delivers a swift kick to his back, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Stepping forward, the woman's words are sharp and unforgiving. "You are a Mandalorian, revered warrior. Family is paramount to you, younglings are precious to your kind. I have respect for your way of life, but I must ask, why did you surrender the Child to the Imperials?"

Din tries to stand up but he is still disoriented from the kick. He glares at the woman, anger simmering within him. "That's none of your business," he growls, his hand hovering over his holster.

He doesn't know who she is or how she knows about the Child, but her words hit him hard.

The woman narrows her eyes, her lightsabers still ignited. "It is my business when it concerns the safety of a child. The Jedi are the guardians of peace and justice in the galaxy, even though there are only two left, it is our duty to protect those who cannot protect themselves."

Din grits his teeth and slowly pushes himself back up, his eyes never leaving the Jetii. "It's complicated," he answers, his voice tense.

The woman tilts her head, her eyes probing. "Complicated," she repeats, a note of skepticism in her voice.

"I am a Mandalorian. Our code of honour includes fulfilling one's obligations and completing jobs. I was obliged by my creed to finish the job." Din tries to reason but knows that even the Mandalorians don't leave children behind.

The woman's stance stiffens, her body a seething cauldron of rage, emanating a fiery aura. "Your creed should also include protecting the innocent, especially the young. You know as well as I do that the Imperials won't treat that child kindly. You had a chance to make a difference, to save a life, and you chose to ignore it."

Din's head droops in shame, the weight of the woman's words crushing him. He has fallen short of his Mandalorian code, failing to protect the youngling. "I... I know. I was wrong," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I have to make it right. I have to get him back."

The woman's lightsabers fall silent, their deadly hum fading as she deactivates them. Din's gaze follows as she gracefully returns the weapons to her belt, then lowers the hood that had obscured her face.

And wow.

Din's heart quickens its pace as the woman lowers her hood, revealing her face at last. But it is not just her physical beauty that holds him captive. In her eyes, there burns a fierce intensity, a wisdom that he has never before encountered. 4

Her gaze pierces through him like a blaster bolt, and he feels a strange stirring within him, a stirring of awe and admiration.

It feels like she is seeing straight into the depths of his soul. A captivating aura emanates from her, enveloping Din in a trance-like state.

At this moment, all of his thoughts, concerns, and fears seem to vanish, leaving him lost in the hypnotic gaze of this enigmatic woman.

Din's mind goes blank as he gazes upon her, forgetting the conflict that had brought them face to face. The way the light dances around her, the gentle slope of her features, the spark in her gaze - all of it blends together to create a breathtaking portrait that he cannot help but be captivated by.

Her voice echoes in Din's mind, her words piercing through his thoughts like a sharp blade. He feels the weight of her gaze upon him, and he struggles to maintain his composure. Her presence is like a force of nature, commanding his attention with ease.

As she speaks, he finds himself lost in the rhythm of her words, the cadence of her voice like a soothing melody. He tries to focus on what she is saying, but his mind is distracted by the beauty of her being. The way she speaks, the way she stands it's as if he's in a dream that he never wants to wake up from.

'You're not a boy anymore,' he reminds himself, 'you're a bounty hunter, a Mandalorian.' The words echo in his mind, a mantra to steel himself.

He musters all his inner strength, fighting against the temptation to be entranced by her allure. He forces his mind back to the present, determined to cast aside the alluring distractions and attend to the matter at hand.

"I'll do whatever it takes to make it right," Din declares, his voice filled with a deep-seated conviction.

The woman nods a sense of understanding in her eyes. "I believe you," she says softly. "But words are meaningless without action. If you truly want to make it right, then you must find the Child and bring him back to his own kind, where he will be safe and learn more about himself."

He nods, determination setting in. "I won't let him be hurt."

The woman regards Din for a moment, before extending her hand out to help him up. "Good," she says, motioning to the Imperial Base with her head. "Because we have work to do."

Din feels a wave of gratitude washes over him at the woman's words. He had been so sure he was doing the right thing by handing the child over to the Imperials, but now he realizes the gravity of his mistake.

Accepting the woman's outstretched hand, Din rises to his feet, his heart still racing from the intensity of the fight. He looks at her with deep appreciation and nods in gratitude. The woman takes a step back, giving him space to retrieve his weapons from the ground.

As Din's hands reach for his rifle on the ground, a flicker of movement catches his attention from the corner of his eye, and his muscles tense as he recognizes the source.

Din's gaze follows as an astromech droid BB-8 unit rolls out from its spot, and over to the woman. Her smile shines like a sunbeam, casting a warm glow over everything around her. She kneels in front of the droid and tenderly pats its spherical head, a gesture that seems to radiate with pure kindness.

Din's eyes narrow, a flicker of suspicion crossing his features as he observes the woman's interaction with the astromech droid. His gut churns with a deep-seated distrust of the machines, borne from past traumas and scars.

The weight shifts on his feet, his body poised like a coiled spring, ready to strike if the droid were to make any sudden moves.

The woman senses Din's unease and rises to her feet, turning her gaze toward him. "Don't worry, Beeb has been with me since I was a child. He is on our side." she says reassuringly, a faint smile gracing her lips.

Din remains skeptical, but the woman's words give him pause. He relaxes slightly but keeps a watchful eye on the droid. "I've had my fair share of run-ins with droids. Can't say I trust them much," he admits gruffly.

The woman nods in understanding. "I understand, but please know that I built him myself and imbued him with the same spirit of loyalty and honor that I strive to embody. He has been with my brother and me through the toughest of battles. You have nothing to fear from him, Mandalorian."

Din considers her words for a moment, then gives a curt nod. "I'll take your word for it, but if that thing tries anything funny, he's getting a blaster bolt to the head."

The woman chuckles. "I wouldn't expect any less from a Mandalorian. But I assure you, Beeb is on our side."

As if sensing his hesitation, Beeb lets out a series of friendly beeps and chirps, rolling closer to Din and nuzzling against his leg. Din glances down at the droid, surprised by the show of affection.

The woman smiles knowingly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "See? He's harmless."

Din grudgingly nods, still unsure of the droid's intentions. But he knows that he can trust the woman and by extension, Beeb. For now, at least.

Approaching him with confidence, the woman strides towards Din, her height just slightly shorter than his own. As she draws nearer, she speaks her name with a voice as soothing as a gentle stream and extends her hand for him to take, a gesture of respect and greeting.

Din takes a moment to compose himself before taking her hand, feeling a jolt of electricity shoot up his arm as they shake hands. He quickly withdraws his hand and takes a step back, surprised at his own reaction.

The woman raises an eyebrow, noticing his sudden shift in demeanor. "Is something wrong?" she asks, her voice laced with concern.

Din shakes his head, trying to push aside the strange sensation that lingers in his hand. "No, nothing's wrong. It's just that...I don't usually shake hands with strangers."

The woman chuckles softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I understand. But I hope we can become more than strangers, Mandalorian."

"Mando. Call me Mando." Din says finally, the word rolling off his tongue with a certain weight.

He can sense the woman's surprise at his response, but he remains firm. He has learned to keep his true name hidden, even from those he trusts.

The woman's gaze locks onto Din's, and as she speaks his name, it rolls off her tongue like a sweet melody, a word to be savored and cherished. "Mando," she murmurs, her voice carrying the weight of reverence and admiration.

A stirring sensation dances in Din's chest as the woman utters his name once more. He's never heard it spoken with such curiosity and esteem, and the sound of it from her lips sends shivers down his spine.

"Shall we go, Mando?" With a graceful motion of her hand, the woman gestures toward the direction they should take.

Din nods in understanding, feeling drawn to her enigmatic presence. "Lead the way," he says, a subtle hint of admiration in his voice.

With steadfast purpose, the pair sets out on their journey, each step resolute and unyielding. Their goal is clear, a daunting challenge ahead, as Beeb follows along faithfully. Their mission: to rescue the Child, to keep the Imperial Agents at bay, and to ensure the youngling's safety at all costs.

Tag list: @babygirlrex0504 @alienated-green-tea @fatima-marisa @dindjarindude @sharin1806 @ruthyalva96 @avengersfan25

☼ Please note that I do not wish to have my work translated or published on any third party reading websites. I claim the rights to my work.

☼ Where I don’t have any rights to the characters, many ideas and OC are my own creation. Please respect that.

[poisonousroxstar]

Imagine:

Yan!mum Egyptian!Bayonetta

Plot Summery: General platonic yandere headcanons for the Egyptian variant of Bayonetta, known also as "The Cloistered Witch"

This Contains: ‼️SPOILERS‼️ yandere themes (no violence towards reader), character death, unhealthy mindset, not proofread.

Note(s): sorry for the absence! I might end up making more of these, since I LOVED the multiverse, but I'll also be interested in doing some DC stuff eventually! Assuming I can muster up the motivation to do them pfft-

Egyptian!Bayonetta is a very loving and kind yandere. She is especially affectionate and adoring compared to the other variants, but has a level of self-control they lack. For the most part.

Overprotective and more obsessive then most variants. Though a softer variant of Bayo, she's arguably one of the most manipulative ones there are. She's a guilt-tripper, using her lack of conviction and timidness to pull on the heartstrings, even shedding a few tears. Worse yet, most of the time she isn't even aware that she's doing this, as it all comes from a place of genuine insecurity.

Absolute spoiler as well. Whatever you want is yours, especially if you butter her up a bit. She's a literal princess, she can get anything and everything you want. That said, though rarely, she'll also remind you of these rewards whenever something should go south. Also uses her privileges as ruler to keep an eye on you.

If you possess the spiritual power needed for it, you might end up being trained in the Dark Arts like your mother, much to her dismay. She begs you not to partake in them, as umbran training is extremely demanding, but just a few promises of taking it carefully and puppydog eyes will change her mind. She will be training alongside you though, and Jeanne will be the one teaching you both (may also be a yandere for you)

Do be warned: any scratch you sustain will be instantly met with extreme amounts of maternal love and attention, a lot of kisses and smothering, and a few pleas for you to no longer aspire to be a witch.

I like to think the Malphas' have an affection to you as well. They'll drop you many shiny things they've found across the desert, ranging from coins to golden towers and more. Also think they'd want you to fly on them.

When Singularity attacks and Jeanne is taken, Bayonetta demands that you stay behind, the first time she's ever directly commanded to do something. It's an action born out of fear and desperation, because god knows what she'd do if you were to die. You could reason with her though, that this interloper is a threat no matter where you are. Reluctantly, she'll agree to take you with her as she adventures to rescue Jeanne.

Lord forbid you're the Arch-Eve/Adam of this world. She'd be hysterical, especially if you were to challenge Singularity head on. She'd absolutely demand, beg you not to do it, at least not alone. Will fight you if she must to ensure you won't be killed.

Bayo is devastated having to kill Jeanne but has some comfort and relief knowing that you're safe. When Brave!Cereza is knocked unconscious and is sucked into the black hole, she gives you one last embrace before chasing after her origin. In this scenario, you'll be left in the care of Brave!Cereza, who'll vow to take care of you to honor her variant (likely becomes a yandere for you too).

If you're the Arch-Eve/Adam, she'd never forgive herself for failing you, letting you get harmed, let alone having to kill you, even if you begged her to. Knowing that your blood is on her hands will drive her insane, and breaks her heart completely. It's only due to Brave!Cereza that she doesn't completely give in to despair at first, but it isn't permanent. Thus, when Cereza is knocked unconscious, she gladly sacrifices herself for her variant.

As she's sucked into the black hole begotten by the powered Spider Demon, her thoughts are with you and Jeanne. She feels no fear, she feels no uncertainty. She's content in her last moments, lips swayed in a saddened but genuine smile. Her eyes look towards the sky one more time as she speaks her final words.

"Jeanne...Y/N... did you see? I won."

[bullet-prooflove]

Stockton!Series Part Eight: Canvas - Nestor Oceteva x Reader

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @anime-weeb-4-life @danzer8705 @drabbles-mc @alwaysachorusgirl @witches-unruly-heart @mysoulisasunflower @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @est1887 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @thanossexual @lexondeck @weiwei0210 @trublu2u @justreblogginfics @oklahomapeach @keyweegirliee @dakotapaigelove @wnbweasley @jadesamhart @sisinever @skyesthebomb @msjava1972 @fleureeee @jp1019 @thiashazzywriting @fanfic-n-tabulous @ravennaortiz @just-a-throw-away

Stockton!Series:

Part One: El Cuchillo - An incident in the clubhouse causes ramifcations for the entire club.

Part Two: Always - Nestor learns about what happened.

Part Three: In the Dark - You and Nestor wake up to find armed men in your house.

Part Four: Sierra - Marcus takes care of the men who tried to kill you.

Part Five: Maternal - Nestor and you take refuge at a familiar location.

Part Six: Times Are Changing - Marcus and Bishop discuss moving forward with the club.

Part Seven: Graveside (feat: Marcus Alvarez) - You and Marcus discuss your mother at her graveside.

It’s late when you come back home to the house that you and Nestor share. The electricity is still off from where they’d cut the power during the break in, but Nestor has illuminated the rooms with the battery powered Moroccan lamps you use for mood lighting. It’s a pretty, welcoming glow.

You find him sitting on the floor of his art studio, the stench of gasoline is barely noticeable unlike the ruined floorboards from where the cohesive material had eaten its way through the varnish. His unruly curls hang loose around his shoulders as he sits in front of a canvas, spreading paint across it with one of the thicker brushes. He’s clad in a loose vest and grey basketball shorts., the light from the Moroccan lamps casting a warm glow across his skin.

He's absorbed in the task, his brushwork methodical. Painting is where he goes to hide away from the world, to make sense of it. Everything that’s happened over the past few days it’s too raw, too much. Now that things have settled you have to process what happened, deal with it.

“Gilly’s gonna come by tomorrow, give us a quote for the shit that needs fixing.” Nestor tells you, his gaze still fixated on the canvas as he swirls the paintbrush. “Bottles and EZ helped clear out the stuff that can’t be repaired. We’re gonna need a new bed and couch and our books are ruined…”

You reach out across the space between you, your hand coming to rest upon his forearm, thumb gently smoothing over his skin.

“Nes.” You say softly. “I’m sorry about what happened to your paintings.”

Out of everything that was destroyed you know that is the one that hurts. They’re things that you can never get back. his creativity, his brilliance they shine through in all the work he does, he leaves a piece of himself in every painting.

“They’re just things…” He says with a sigh, raking his hand through his hair.

“It still matters.” You tell him and he looks up at you.

You can see the pain in his eyes, the anguish because those paintings, they meant the world to him. He sets the paintbrush down before he studies the artwork in front of him, the one he’d been working on before your home had been invaded. It had been beautiful once, darkness and light contrasting against each other. The night sky and the stars, the desert landscape. Now the paint runs down it in rivets, the chemicals from the gasoline burning into the canvas, eroding it.

“I was working on something for your birthday.” He tells you, his gaze lowering back to the canvas in front of him. “They fucked it up, they came into our home…”

He trails off, the line of his jaw clenching.

“I keep thinking about what would have happened if we hadn’t woken up that night.” He says quietly, his chin coming to rest upon his knee. “If I’d been on that run up to Denver, the way that I was supposed to be. You would have been here alone…”

He’d been about to embark on a security run for Rose Kush when he’d gotten the call from Bishop. It would have been a three-day job. Coco had taken it instead after he’d heard what happened to you with Ramos. You shift until you end up kneeling beside him. You wrap your arms around him, drawing him close, your lips brush over his hairline as he buries his face into the curve of your throat.

“I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost you.” He whispers against your skin. “It came too close this time Mi Corizon, it was far too close.”

Love Nestor? Get added to his tag list!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[astralisbelle]

Dead Man's Hand 4 - Closer Than Ever

Dead Man's Hand Masterlist tags: tags: engineer!reader, gambler!reader, loose canon timeline, eventual smut, fluff, action, casino aesthetics, touch starved reader, touch starved din, reader and din get on each other’s nerves, also they’re idiots, defrosting ice king din, cinderella vibes, everybody loves grogu

chapter summary: The Mandalorian gets a first-hand look at her card skills in the Razor Crest

Careful for her fingers to not brush by any buttons, she leans over the console to peer out the glass and watch as they drift further and further away from Tatooine.

She can see Mos Eisley in the distance, growing smaller and smaller until everything looks like a diorama. Despite the shrinking of everything, the expanse of Tatooine never looked bigger, its sand dunes never longer.

Her heart falls into the pit of her stomach as the Razor Crest pierces through the atmosphere, leaving behind the twin suns and desert planet. “Whoa…” Craning her head, her eyes dart back and forth, watching the stars twinkle. Once it is safe to walk about the cabin, she undoes her seat belt and stands up, leaning over the console to drink in the sights.

The stars never looked so close before. And there are more than just stars: she sees asteroids, comets, even planets in the distance that fade in and out.

It’s beautiful.

Din focuses on piloting, charting the course to Canto Bight, but he has to notice her. There is a childlike wonder in her eyes reflecting the shine of the stars, half in disbelief and half in utter splendor. A corner of his lips curls into a smile, masked by his helmet. He will let her stare for just a few moments.

She sits down slowly, taking it all in. “You do this everyday?”

“You get used to it,” he says. “Strap in. We’re gonna make the jump now.”

The jump? She does as he says, clicking her seat belt again. As soon as she finishes, Grogu jumps into her lap, startling her. He coos, almost laughing as he settles in.

“Hold onto him tight,” says the Mandalorian.

“Got it.” She wraps her arms around the child, holding him close. Though she doesn’t interact with many children, something about this one’s big, beady eyes and forehead wrinkles activates some maternal instinct in her chest to fill her with warmth. When Grogu settles his weight onto her and relaxes, it brings a smile to her lips. He claps his hands, waiting for the jump.

It steals her breath away. The stars around her warp, turning into sharp lines as the ship accelerates forward. Grogu holds up his hands and adrenaline fills her body until she becomes accustomed to it. The Mandalorian kicks up his feet and rests his hands behind his head, a soft groan of relaxation emitting from his modulator.

Looks like they were going to be here for a while.

She lets a few minutes of silence pass before attempting to strike up conversation. “So… beskar, huh? Is it that important?”

“It is the metal of my people,” he answers. “It was stolen from us in the Purge.”

“Mm.” The Purge, right… She may have offhandedly heard about that, but the streets of Tatooine doesn’t give one great history lessons. Anything she knew about Mandalorians came from Peli, but even the humble mechanic didn’t know everything.

She leans down, reaching into her packet and pulling out some dried meat that she packed for the trip. It pales in comparison to what Canto Bight would have, the very thought making her salivate. Opening the wrap, she bites off a small piece. When Grogu holds up his hand, she smiles and uses her teeth to bite off another, handing it to him. He uses both hands to hold the piece, gnawing on the top.

With a chuckle, she chews her piece before using her fingers to rip off a bigger one. She leans over, presenting it to the Mandalorian. All he does is turn to her, the darkness of his visor piercing her eyes. Lifting a brow, she takes her piece back. “What? I’m just offering.”

“I’m not taking off my helmet.”

She scoffs. “Really? When do you eat?” Then she pops the meat in her mouth.

“Not around people.”

“Never?” His silence tells her everything. “Okay, fine, sheesh. More for me and Grogu.” The kid makes a happy noise as she gives him another piece.

So far, it only seems like one person is happy to have her along. “Hmph.” She bends down, whispering to him. “Your papa is a grumpy, old stick in the mud, huh?”

“I heard that.” He turns to her. “I’m not old.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know that, now would I?” She huffs again, splitting the last piece of meat down the middle between herself and Grogu. “Nothing against stick in the mud?”

He groans. “You talk too much.”

“You–!” She sits up in her chair. “Sor-ree for trying to make conversation. It’s not like this is my first time leaving Tatooine or anything. Or going somewhere new. Or traveling with someone I don’t know! The least you could do is be kinder! I’m doing you a favor, aren’t I?!” It feels good in the moment to let those feelings out, but once the silence settles in, hints of regret wash over her. She looks down at Grogu with guilt, her lips pressing together, and he simply tilts his head, confused by her words. Feeling the initial temper die down, she exhales. “S...Sorry. I, uh, didn’t mean to call you that. I… I know I can get all… solar pretty fast.” Grogu touches her hand, his fingers curling around one of hers. “I, uh, will be more focused on the card game. Promise.”

He says nothing back at first. Just when she thinks he isn’t going to accept it, he speaks. “Are you nervous?”

She scoffs. “Actually… yeah, I am.” She watches the stars whiz by. “Playing cantinas is one thing. But these people that will enter the tournament… they’re professionals, right? They make millions of credits off gambling alone. What if I’m… what if I’m not good enough?”

He sees the doubt in her face. Din exhales slowly, then he stands up and goes to the back of the ship, looking through its compartments. He should have a deck somewhere here, left behind by either a bounty or someone else. When he finds it, he brings it back to his seat, presenting it. “Let’s play.”

The doubt washes away, leaving an inquisitive look in her face. “Really?”

“We’ve got the time.” Din knows he stinks, so it should be an easy win for her. That should at least give her a boost of confidence. “You deal.”

A grin curls on her lips. Her fingers brush by his gloves as she takes the deck. The second the cards are in her hands, he can see her change. She sits up straighter and he watches her hands shuffle them fast, performing a couple of tricks for Grogu’s entertainment.

It’s fascinating watching someone so expressive transform into someone else in the throws of the game. Her sabacc face is neutral and cold, almost like looking in the mirror. The one advantage Din has over her is that she cannot read his face. But then again, neither can he. He wonders if she really is keeping track of their deck in her head, if she really is making all of the point calculations she spoke of before. She doesn’t even move her lips to mouth the numbers to herself.

She turns her hand, showing her cards. “Game.”

Din blinks. He looks down at his hand, then at hers. “What?” It’s the first time he sounds so thrown off-guard. “But that’s… how did you…?”

She giggles. “Told you.”

Din snatches the cards from her hands, bringing them all between his. “We’re playing again. I’m dealing this time.”

“Alright.”

A few turns pass.

“Game.”

“Dank farrik.”

She lights up the Razor Crest with her laughter. Maybe she does cheat. Din catches her wrist, ceasing her laughs for a moment. “Wh-what?”

He pulls down her sleeve… nothing. Then he checks the other. When he confirms there isn’t anything there, she brings her hands back to herself, fixing her sleeves. “Told you I don’t cheat.”

“...Right.” He clears his throat. “Just had to check."

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Abby Vesoulis at Mother Jones:

Dr. Leilah Zahedi-Spung spent four years in medical school, four years in an OB-GYN residency, and three years in a maternal-fetal medicine fellowship learning how to care for high-risk pregnant patients. In her decade-plus of medical training, she learned that in some cases, the only rational and responsible option for medical intervention is an emergency abortion. In July 2021 she moved to Chattanooga, Tennessee, and discovered she was the sole provider in her area trained to perform second-trimester dilatation and evacuation abortions for patients who needed them to survive.

But in 2022, the Supreme Court delivered its Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization decision, and Tennessee’s trigger ban—written in preparation for the possibility that the Supreme Court would overturn Roe—went into effect a month later. Suddenly, providing an abortion in Tennessee became an immediate Class C felony punishable by up to 15 years in prison. There were no exceptions, even when an abortion was necessary to save a life or prevent serious bodily harm. Only after being arrested could a physician provide something called an “affirmative defense” to fight the charges. (Eight months after the trigger law took effect, the GOP governor signed a bill allowing abortions in limited medical emergencies.)

Given her unique work, which also includes genetic testing and live deliveries, Zahedi-Spung felt as if she wore a bull’s-eye on her back. She hired a criminal defense attorney—just in case—and immediately began looking for a maternal-fetal medicine position out of state. She didn’t want to leave Tennessee at all, she says, but her goal was “to not go to jail.”  Relocating for work isn’t a novel concept, but in the age of unfettered abortion restrictions, there has been an exodus of OB-GYNs from abortion-banned states, and dwindling interest among future OB-GYNs to settle in those states. The result is worsening health outcomes for the vulnerable patients and moms who remain. 

“As more clinicians leave those states, as more maternity care deserts happen, we will see poorer outcomes,” says Dr. Stella Dantas, an OB-GYN in Oregon and the president-elect of the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists. “And I do think we will see more maternal mortality just by the sheer fact that we won’t have providers even trained to take care of some of these obstetric emergencies.” Indeed, 64 percent of practicing OB-GYNs who responded to a KFF (formerly the Kaiser Family Foundation) survey said the Dobbs ruling has worsened maternal mortality.  In the before times, a high-risk obstetrics patient might consider having an abortion to nearly eliminate their potential maternal health risks, or even just seek more frequent monitoring to decrease them. But what happens when there are fewer clinicians left to treat sicker pregnant patients—and higher numbers of them—as birth rates rise in abortion-banned states? Data from states tell the story.

Even before outright abortion bans, the states that eventually restricted the medical procedure had higher rates of pregnancy-related deaths, sicker patient populations, and less access to maternal and preventative health care, according to data from KFF and Surgo Ventures, a nonprofit that researches health and social issues.

[...]

The care deserts will disproportionately affect low-income people and people of color. In her new maternal-fetal health role in Colorado, Zahedi-Spung says many of her dilatation and evacuation patients travel to her from Texas, Oklahoma, and Idaho because of unworkable abortion laws there. Given the current reproductive health care landscape, they are the lucky ones. She fears others in abortion-restricted states lack the resources to travel.

“We know that privileged people will always have access to abortion. We know that they will always have access to health care,” says Monica Simpson, the executive director of Sister Song, one of the oldest reproductive justice organizations in the country. For everyone else, Simpson says, “thousands of people are falling through the cracks.” Further, the states restricting abortion are also less likely to have social support benefits to help moms and children. For example, 10 of the 13 states that rejected federal funds for low-income kids to get summer food assistance have banned abortion, either beyond six weeks or at conception. “Those same people who are anti-choice are the ones who want to cut welfare,” says Zahedi-Spung. “They’re the same ones who don’t want to provide food stamps. They’re the same ones who don’t want to expand birth control options.” 

The Dobbs ruling in 2022 has led to an increased rate in maternal mortality, particularly in states that have strict abortion bans.

[theeccentricraven]

Alphabet Write Tag

Thank you @kaylinalexanderbooks for the tag!

Rules: give a sentence for each letter of the alphabet! (Can compose or get from your WIP)

I took quotes from The Blood Cleaners, but composed the last one since I couldn't find any Z's (and it was about time I named the nameless young mother Justin has to encounter during a major section of the story).

A- As Justin covered his eyes and wriggled in his bed, for a moment, he thought this was mild in comparison to the previous shot.

B - “Bravo,” Lord Rico said indifferently. “You’ve earned bonuses for this week. I suppose you’ve proven me wrong. Not the little rebels, but the best we have.”

C - “Congratulations,” said Lady Juana. “Just don’t get too comfortable in that uniform too soon.”

D - Do you hear me?

E - “Excuse you,” Lucio grumbled. “No one excuses an enforcer.”

F- Favor….

G - “Guys!” he shouted. “We’re in an oven!”

H - "Hermana! Hermana!” The little girl ran up and sprung into Joselyn’s arms.

I - I wanted to let you know that you are one of the most amazing girls in this cruel world.

J - Joselyn took only half a step before the hissing sound of a vaculator echoed across the hall.

K - “Kind of?”

L - "Lady Charla is the one who blabbed. She’s worse than Lord Rico.”

M - May 31st. Justin had a week. He spent every night staying up past 3am rehearsing answers for every possible question he could think of.

N - "No matter how much they butter you up, don’t forget about how their rules can’t be condoned.”

O - Oscar and Wayne were slower with transforming while holding objects and slower with transforming to their normal selves.

P - Patricia blushed to show her tattoo of a desert flower.

Q - “Que pasa?”

R - Rafael stuck out his tongue.

S - “She practiced so hard,” Ellen said.

T - “Tenderheart!”

U - Under a log, she’d hid her cards.

V - Velma kept talking.

W - “We call him Pancho,” said Joselyn.

X - Xavier!

Y - "Yeah, I became a cleaner when I was five."

Z - Zoe was the Fist mother who cared for her toddler at home. When she wasn't on maternity leave, she worked as an operations manager at one of the propaganda studios.

Tagging (no pressure): @constellationandcompendium @poethill @ghost-type-writer @ddgraywrites @hersurvival