#my third eye is having its third eye open

[itslenagain]

Cw graphic descriptions of pregnancy/childbirth under cut & mention of SA

I always heard the same crap that childbirth is magic & motherhood is so special & opens your heart etc etc well as an enby I have found ways to enjoy parenthood but there was absolutely nothing magical about pregnancy/birth at all

My first labor lasted 11 hours. My oldest kid was a 42 weeker. I was miserable. I was running up and down stairs and bouncing on exercise balls to try and bring on labor because I was 15 & pregnant by rape and I was not going to let myself get cut open over it. They hooked up a pitocin drip that made my contractions feel incredibly unnatural.

Hour 10 of 11, OBGYN comes in and expresses concern that the baby hasn't been born yet. He takes a look and notices that the skin around my vagina had failed to expand enough to allow passage of a kid who was 9lbs and had a huge head. He tells me he needs to "open me up" to allow the baby to pass through. I was so distressed that I just nodded.

He hooked his fingers into my vagina and manually tore it open. I needed 34 stitches. I am just thankful that somehow nothing too important got ripped & I still have full sensation in my pelvic floor. I have, however, dealt with minor incontinence since.

My second labor was the end of an incredibly miserable pregnancy that nearly killed me. I had been dealing with hyperemesis gravidarum. I had been hospitalized several times during my pregnancy. I was severely malnourished. My teeth are permanently fucked from it. I lost over 80lbs. The constant vomiting left tears in my esophagus. I had dealt with doctors not listening to me. I was delirious from how sick I was and was often unable to properly advocate for myself. I had been begging for an induction from the minute I hit 37 weeks and was told no. Another 42 weeker. They finally allowed me to be induced and uh. They scheduled me for 8am. I was instructed to arrive at 6am. They put me in a room and just left me there. I was vomiting & dry heaving nonstop per what was normal for me at that time. I asked how long before they started the pitocin drip. They said they were too busy and I needed to stop "gagging" and rolled their eyes when I told them I couldn't, my body was trying to force me to vomit but my stomach was empty.

The pitocin drip wasn't started until 11pm. I sat in the bed just waiting, put on strict orders to not eat or drink anything (at that point it wasn't hard since I couldn't hold anything down anyways) and they complained about how I was trying to sleep while waiting for the contractions to start. Labor hit hard and fast and my second kid was born at 1am. That was when I finally got some release from my HG and I was starving. Everywhere was closed. My then-husband managed to find a McDonalds that was open. My nurses made faces at me when they saw how much & how voraciously I ate. The same nurses who watched me be hospitalized because I was literally starving to death and my body was leeching the minerals out of my bones & cannibalizing its own muscle to sustain the baby.

My third pregnancy and labor were much less eventful.

Every single one of my pregnancies was the result of failed birth control. Every single one fucked my mind & my body in ways I could have never imagined. My kids are great and I am glad they exist, I wouldn't change this life for anything. But in another life, if I had a do-over knowing what I know now, I might not have had kids at all

giving birth sucks tbh. not only do you and the baby you’re birthing almost die, usually you shit yourself and often you tear your taint. then you have to push an organ out of your body (placenta) and if even a little of that remains in your body, you can hemorrhage to death or develop an infection that essentially rots your body from the inside out. even if you had a relatively “easy birth”, you bleed for weeks on end. even after that stops, your body and brain is changed for the rest of your life, the pregnancy leeched minerals from your bones, that can cause osteoporosis later. minor urinary incontinence is not uncommon, brain scans of people who gave birth show permanent changes in their brain, you’re never quite the same.

I say all of this not to say giving birth is disgusting but it is a harrowing and visceral experience. society downplays how fucking awful it is and makes it out to be a ~magical~ experience but it isn’t a magical transformative experience for everyone. it can be an extremely traumatic experience for someone who wanted to carry a pregnancy to term, much more so for someone who did not want to be pregnant in the first place or someone who knows their baby won’t survive the birth. anyway, abortion is a right. pregnancy and birth aren’t just inconvenient, it’s fucking awful.

[thepitlanepress]

UM WHO ARE YOU? –

↳ lando norris + fem!reader

⌗ :: masterlist

⌗ :: a/n: something lando while i work on the smau !! also black and white pics of lando>>> a warning tho the sleep deprivation kicked in at about halfway through

your friend was late.

again.

this was the seven hundredth time michael had been late this week alone. seriously, its like he did it on purpose. you had been standing in the restaurant's carpark for the last half an hour waiting on you ride home.

it's late, it's dark, you're cold and tired. boy was the asshole in for it when he showed up. how could he leave a you out here in these conditions? it was practically snowing.

eventually michael's car turns up and slows to a stop in the car park, you think its weird how he keeps rolling a bit while you try and grab the handle but its they way he is, always taking the piss out of you on a daily basis.

he stops shortly after and you yank the door open piling inside and berating him. "seriously dude? you're half an hour late and i have been dying to bed. its almost snowing outside and you just leave...me..."

thats not michael.

sitting in the drivers seat is lando norris? the world famous f1 driver? what is he doing at your restaurant? no no better question, why the hell are you in his car you dumbass?

"um, who are you?" he asks sitting there, a confused and suspicious look on his face, he probably thinks your some crazy fan, which doesn't help the situation you're in.

"oh my god, i am so sorry, i got in the wrong car, this isn't happening. i'm so sorry, i thought you were my friend, gosh im so-" you begin to say but cut yourself off when you start to ramble. instead collecting yourself and bracing for the cold when you open the door.

"wait," lando's voice stops you, your hand on the door, ready to leave. "you can stay in here until your friend arrives," he says smiling, there is still the edge in his voice, and thats understandable, but he's being kind and letting you stay in the warm at least.

"thank you," you smile and sit back in the seat relaxing and closing your eyes basking in the warmth of the car, and the smell of lando's cologne. its not your fault its the only thing that you can smell.

"so can i ask; what were you doing out there? its snowing and you have no coat on, thats not okay," he asks his voice drifting to you.

"my friend michael was supposed to pick me up, but evidently he was late," you answer, opening your tired eyes and sighing. "he's always late these days. this is like the third time this week i've had to wait for him for like an hour after work."

"you're telling me you spend half an hour to an hour waiting for this guy to come pick you up from work? and he's always late?"

you nod not bothering to defend michael right now, he's making you wait with a stranger for over an hour, the last thing he deserves is your defence.

"what a shithead."

an unexpected laugh rumbles from your throat. "that's michael for you."

"thats michael? seriously?" lando's brows furrow and he looks disgusted by even the thought of it. "he's not your friend."

"what?"

"that boy is not your friend. a real friend would be here in the carpark early warming up your seat for you, waiting with a coat. not showing up hours late to a-" he looks out his window. "closed restaurant. god it keeps getting worse."

you sigh quietly and shake your head, "i don't know what to do, i don't have a car and calling an uber is not my favourite thing at this time of night."

"give me your phone," lando says suddenly.

"what?"

"can i borrow your phone please?" he repeats.

"sure?" you say pulling it out of your pocket, unlocking it and handing it over to him.

he types something quickly and smiles before handing it over to you again. you look down and on the screen is a new contact "lando aka your new best friend"

despite the circumstances you laugh, "what's this for?"

"text me when you finish work each shift and i'll come pick you up."

"what?"

"i'll pick you up or have someone trusted pick you up at the end of your shifts," he says simply.

"why?" you ask bewildered by his kindness.

"because i'm your new best friend duh."

you smile and he grins back at you. "come on i'll drive you home," he says putting his seatbelt on and gesturing for you to do the same.

"thank you," you whisper.

the drive home lulls you to sleep. maybe it was the quiet hum of the radio, or the warmth of the car or the company. whatever it was it sent you to sleep quickly, with a smile on your face and your heart full, you made a new friend.

you never did ask lando why he was in the car park that night. and he never did tell you how he had overheard your friend shit talking and complaining about you at a random club before he ran off with some girl.

and he never did tell you about how he very nearly dropped everything to go pick up the mystery girl who was depending on the worlds biggest asshole.

he never told you,

not even when he got down on one knee or when he stood up in front of all of your friends with you in a white dress.

he never told you how he almost fell in love on the spot when you burst into his car and then profusely apologised when you realised you made a mistake.

he never told you.

but he always picked you up, no matter where or when, he was there.

2025 © thepitlanepress | please do not steal, use, translate or repost any of my works

– comments, likes and reblogs appreciated !

[creeksandsocks]

Passcode to My Heart

Eddie Munson x F!reader

Your locker gets jammed and Eddie comes to save the day despite jocks doing their worst. [1.1k words]

Tags: Mature language used and sexual gestures are imitated but no explicit smut, bullying, fluff

You’re twisting the dial of your locker’s padlock, you're currently on your third try of inputting your combination. Right three full rotations ro clear… stop at 14… left until 35… full rotation then 8. Your code is muscle memory this far into the school year, using it as a checkpoint to switch textbooks between first and second period on block days. Pulling on the lock, waiting for it to release after inputting your code, but nothing. You're angrily jerking the lock, now pulling on the main component, hoping to pry it from your locker. You give up on it, a sound reverberates through the covered hallways as you let the lock fall from your hand and onto the metal door of your locker. Whatever… you think, you could probably make it through one class period without your textbook. And at lunch track down a janitor who could professionally approach the jam.

A figure shrouded in black slides up to the locker next to you, crossing its arms and leaning a shoulder against your neighbour’s locker while facing you. You peer over and see who decided to pull up. You blush quickly after registering that it was Eddie. “Locker jammed?” he prods, keeping his shoulder planted on the locker but lulling his head out to the side. “Yeah,” you admit “I know im doing my combonation correctly but its fucking jammed or somthing, I dunno”. His face lights up “I might actually have the cure for what you need - i've been here long enough to know how to doctor up a jammed padlock”. Nodding graciously you encourage him “really? Please - that would be so helpful!”. He nods once, gaining momentum to push himself up off the locker and stand in the now vacant space you've created by stepping aside.

He clutches the padlock in both his hands and zeros in, quirking his eyebrow and asking your locker code. “Fourteen, thirty five, eight” you say, eyes trained on the padlock instead of the intensity of his eyes on yours. 

“Don't worry” he comforts, "I won't use it for evil”. You giggle at him and earnestly reply “I know you won't”. He blushes at the implied complement, pursing his lips and quicking his entire mouth away from you to hide his growing grin. He quickly inputs your locker number, pinching the dial between his thick fingers and twisting it. With great force he's using the palm of his right hand to push the circular piece up into the shank of the padlock, releasing and pulling the lock open quickly just after. He gives you a proud look and a bow, gently placing the lock into your outstretched hands. “Thank you!” you say. To match his theatrics you add on “my hero!”, clutching your hands to your heart in a swooning motion. You try not to focus too much on him eyeing the contents of your locker. His eyes flitting between the clutter that lines it, assorted textbooks, trapper keepers, loose dollar bills and a lip gloss tube. You thank god that he doesn’t see the tampon that sits parallel to the wall, and even if he does he doesn’t comment on it. But, he does see the magazine cutout pasted to your lockers door. It seems like someone he’s recondize: Bon Jovi or Joan Jett but he’s stopped from his sleuthing when you slam the locker shut in front of him. “Ignore that” you warn.

After fixing your lock, Eddie doesn’t leave right away. He stays in your orbit, making small talk about the upcoming weekend and next period’s homework. You're both being quiet, creating a delicate bubble that separates you two from the rest of the buzzing hallway. But, your bubble is broken when Patrick McKinney and a few straggling dolts behind him stride past your locker. On his approach, he makes a dark face at you two. His jock-ey stride is perfectly calculated as he walks up to you both, he’s definitely got a wicked idea by the way his eye contact is unwavering. At the end of the day, his bullying isn’t creative, but it still never fails to make your face turn red with embarrassment each time he does so.

Now? Now is no different. He cups his hands, both magnifying his voice to the whole hallway and projecting his grating voice at you both. Through his cupped hands he makes comical moans at you both. His douchebags join in, attempting to imitate you moaning “Oh Eddie!!!” the boys cry “oh, ah! Eddie! Feels so good”. Chance, who is Patrick's second in command, is the next loudest. Making glaring eye contact with Eddie as he makes a lewd gesture, clasping his hands around the air infront of him and pulling it back into his hips, moaning and lulling his head as if he was Eddie fucking you and finishing prematurely.

At the moment, you can’t think of a more embarrassing thing to ever have happened to you. It’s not the thought of being with Eddie like that that's embarrassing, in fact it often crosses your mind while daydreaming in class. What's embarrassing had everything to do with the jocks. Their impression of you made you feel vulnerable and small. You feel your cheeks go hot, you place the backs of your fingers onto them, hoping to cool the heat rushing there.

After the jocks pass you, you dare a glance at Eddie. He is normally composed when being subject to teasing such as this, unfortunately as he’s become accustomed to it. This time though, Eddie seems small. His wet eyes seem to take up all the real estate on his face, pinked cheeks being hidden by a strand of hair he’s pulled out of his mouth to chew on. He definitely seems embarrassed, but his unwavering eye contact with the Jocks tells you that he’s thinking of a comeback. You want to say something to him, cut through the ick of the situation but you're unsure if that will only make the embarrassment worse.

But Eddie beats you to speaking, he’s calling Patricks name down the clearing hallway. At the promise of confrontation, Patrick swings his head around. He keeps a confident stride walking forward as he looks over his shoulder at you “Yeah, freak? You wan-” SLAM. Patricks head punches into someone's open locker, his head jolts back and his cap flys off in response. He immediately throws both of his hands to his forehead, applying pressure to the bruise forming on his forehead.

You look at Eddie mouth agape. You’re about to question him on how he timed that so perfectly. But Eddie shares the same expression of shock. Eyes still wide he squeaks “I did noooot mean to do that…” You and Eddie start breathlessly laughing at Patricks perfectly timed karma when the bell rings throughout the halls. Waving goodbye, you chuckle to yourself all the way to second period as you silently hope your locker will break again…

[creative-frequency]

I request #22 with Caleb! 😜

Save a plane, ride a pilot? ✈ Rated M for the horny.

Caleb x Reader: 22. A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party.

Today, another one of Caleb’s hidden talents is revealed: he is really fast at pitching a tent.

“Wow, that took less than five minutes,” you say in awe and clap your hands.

You’re camping in the national park outside Linkon. The impromptu trip was poorly planned and only cooked up because you found an unopened bag of marshmallows that needed roasting, and Caleb remembered his old tent was lying around at his place. So, you took the chance to pack camping supplies and take a shuttle bus to the national park area. After trekking for a few hours, you decided it was remote enough to set up the tent. Which Caleb managed in three minutes and forty-two seconds with the aid of his Evol.

“My record is one and a half minutes,” he brags nonchalantly and swipes his hair back from his forehead.

Eagerly, you crawl inside the two person tent and sit cross-legged in the middle of it. The scent of the resinous forest and the tent cloth permeate the air. Distant memories from your youth lurk in the back of your mind, but obstinately refuse to surface. You can’t recall camping in the woods before, yet the scenery feels familiar.

Caleb hoists your backpacks and sleeping bags inside and follows on all fours. He is way too tall to even sit properly inside and you laugh as he tries to settle, forcing you to move closer to the wall.

Caleb shuffles around, opening and spreading the sleeping bags. He lays down on his back with a groan, then pats his chest to invite you over with a smile.

You crawl over and lean your cheek on his shoulder, safely tucked against his side.

“Tired?” Caleb asks.

“Mhm.”

“Maybe we should take a nap so you’ll have energy for later,” he says and pets your hair.

“Energy for what?” you ask with furrowed brows and tilt your head to look up at the smirk on his face. Your stomach makes a jolt that is followed by a tender feeling. He is teasing you again.

“Well, I don’t know. We still gotta eat all those marshmallows, right?”

You prop yourself up with an elbow to have a better look at his sly expression. Your eyes narrow.

“Caleb,” you warn him, prolonging each syllable.

“Yeah?”

He grabs your waist, but before he can make another move, you climb to shamelessly straddle him and start to lean down. Caleb blinks a few times, then his eyes flutter closed and a dust of pink rises to his cheeks. His grip on your waist slightly tightens. Biting your lip to hold the giggle in, you keep him waiting until his eyes open again in confusion. 

Then, you boop his nose with a finger.

“Pipsqueak..!” Caleb lets out in a mix of disappointment and disbelief, staring at you.

“I got you,” you hum, pleased at seeing him flustered.

Suddenly gravity’s pull strengthens to tilt you towards the ground and Caleb handily rolls over, ending up on top of you. He pins your wrists by your head and all your traces of amusement crash into a smoking heap.

Inside the small tent, his body seems even larger and his bright eyes fill your field of vision like purple nebulas.

You find yourself breathing much more heavily than seconds ago.

“I got you now,” he whispers with enough heat to make you spontaneously combust.

Caleb leans down, slowly, as if trying to detect any traces of resistance on your face. Surmising he finds none, he catches your lips into a kiss that starts as light as a feather’s touch. You melt under him. The kiss gradually deepens into a demanding one that makes you lose track of the center of gravity as your body orbits toward Caleb.

Your hands slip away from his grip and splay over his chest and bicep, greedily feeling out the toned muscles underneath his clothing. Caleb’s weight on you relaxes slightly and his body presses more tightly against yours as gravity tries to reclaim its share.

The kiss never pauses as if neither of you can–or want to–stop it anymore. His tongue prods at the seam of your lips and you open up to him with a content hum. The snuffling sounds of your hasty breaths fill the tent. A tender and warm pressure pulses through your body, zeroing in on the places where you feel Caleb against you. Your hands find the hem of his shirt and you began yanking it up just when–

Beep! Beep!

Your Hunter’s watch suddenly bursts with warning flashes. Caleb is already on his feet, reaching for the gun in his bag.

“Wanderers!” he exclaims, halfway through the tent flaps.

You want to stomp your feet in frustration and scream, but duty calls, so you follow suit. Next time, you will camp at the Linkon central park instead or just get a hotel.

[uhhlifeig]

congratulations on 300 followers!!! you deserve every single one and im so happy for you!!

your 300 followers event is so cool!

errr can i have 🥺 for rosekiller and 😍 also for rosekiller cause im a bit obsessed with themm

aww tysm!! and yes yes ofc!! i love rosekiller too lmao

soulmates au first:

~~~~~

There was a rose blooming on Barty’s left forearm.

It had been there ever since first year, when he had first touched his soulmate.

Except, he didn’t know who it was. 

He knew that Evan’s Flower was a gladiolus. Maybe his soulmate was a girl called Gladiola or something?

Whatever was the case, Barty was sad. 

Three reasons why.

One, he was fruitlessly searching for his soulmate. He’d kissed about half the girls in Hogwarts, at this point.

Two, he was gay. That wouldn’t have been bad on its own, but it got a lot worse. Not only was he gay, he was in love with someone.

And that led him to his third and final reason: that someone was Evander Gabriel Rosier.

That’s right, Rosier. As in the family name for the roses. Like the one that Barty had on his arm.

It was a shock that Evan hadn’t put the pieces together yet. That boy was normally way too smart for his own good.

But all the better for Barty, right?

Wrong.

Even Regulus Arcturus Black, feelings repressor extraordinaire, had confronted him about his pining.

Multiple times.

It all came to a head on a sunny March day during their fifth years.

They were laying in the grass together, Evan with a book in his hand, and Barty making flower crowns.

“Here you go, Ev,” he laughed, handing over a circlet of daisies.

“Thanks, Bee,” Evan hummed. “Hey, Barty, do you know what daisies mean in the flower language?”

Barty tilted his head inquisitively. “No, what?”

“Loyalty and purity, apparently.”

“Really?” Barty stuck out his arm. “What does the rose mean?”

“Well, yours is read, so that’s love and passion and such. I bet your soulmate already loves you, just from that alone.”

Barty poked at Evan’s forearm. “Well, then, what does your flower mean?”

“Honor and resilience, probably.” Evan grinned sheepishly, rubbing his neck. “I’m not sure. I haven’t looked at one of those books in ages.”

“Well, if you don’t know the meaning of the gladiolus, maybe you know the meaning of your name, Evander Gabriel Rosier,” Barty teased. 

Evan rolled his eyes fondly. “It’s somewhere along the lines of me being a good man. I’m not so sure about that.”

“Lies,” Barty cried. “You’re a very good man. You even save me some breakfast sometimes!”

Evan nodded gravely. “Yes, that is totally what makes me a good person.”

“Darn right it is. Now, what’s my name mean?”

“You know what it means,” Evan huffed in laughter. “You’ve been preening about how untrue it was since second year.”

“Well, yeah, cause he’s a bitch,” Barty sighed, yanking at the grass beneath him. “What kind of name is ‘loyal son’ anyways?”

“Oh my fucking Merlin,” Evan muttered for what seemed to be no reason. “You’re so fucking blind, what the hell?”

“What?”

Evan sighed. “Barty, you know you’re my soulmate, right?”

“What?” his mouth fell open in shock.

“You didn’t know.”

“Well, no,” Barty admitted. “I thought you were straight!”

Evan looked at him incredulously. “What about-” he gestured at himself. “this- says, ‘I’m straight’?”

“You have a good point,” Barty admitted. 

“You’re darn right about that.”

And suddenly, it was like there were fireworks going off around them as their lips met for the first time.

~~~~~

and now we have the hurt/comfort under the cut!! be warned im a lot better at writing hurt

~~~~~

“Where are you going?” Evan asked tearfully. “Please, Barty, we can fix this.”

“Fix it? Fix it? What is there to be fixed?” Barty scoffed. “You can’t love me the way I deserve, so you shouldn’t get me.”

“Please,” Evan choked. “I can’t do it without you. You’re my everything, Barty.”

“Your everything. Really?” Barty asked, raising an eyebrow. “You think I believe that, Evan?”

“Please, Bee,” Evan begged, throwing in the nickname for good measure. “One more chance. I promise I’ll do better.”

“That’s what they all say,” Barty spat, turning around. He strode to the nearest picture frame, which contained an image of Before, when they were happy and still in love.

Barty picked it up, inspecting it, before dropping the photo, frame and all, on the floor. The glass shattered, covering the carpet with shards.

“Bee, what are you doing?” Evan gasped, tears carving paths down his cheeks. “Please, stop.”

“I’m just giving you what you deserve, Rosie.” Even that once-sweet nickname was like poison coming out of Barty’s mouth. It seemed to hit Evan square in the chest, causing him to stumble backwards.

“You can’t mean that,” Evan stuttered. “Please.”

“Please what?” Barty sneered. He picked up the picture, shaking off the debris. He looked at it hard for a moment before-

Evan’s ears were ringing. He didn’t think he could feel anything like this ever again.

The picture lay in tatters, scattered all over the floor.

“Barty, why did you-”

“Because we’re done,” Barty snarled, walking out of the door and slamming it.

It promptly fell off of its hinges.

Evan and Barty groaned simultaneously.

“I was doing so well!” Barty cried. “Fuck!”

“You’ve broken that door twice, Bee,” Evan grinned. “One might think that you’re the Hulk or something.”

“Boys, the camera is still rolling,” their director, Minerva McGonagall, snapped. “We need to cut this out. Tech, do you think we can still salvage the scene?”

“Probably,” a lanky man with a clipboard said from next to her. His name tag read ‘Lupin’. “We just need to fix the door and do an up-close shot of the slam. The rest is fixable in post.”

“Alright,” McGonagall sighed. “Chop-chop, people. The door isn’t fixing itself.”

Barty stepped back into the indoor part of the set. “Hey, Ev, d’you wanna get a coffee? I’m running low on caffeine.”

McGonagall got up from her chair, walking towards the. She put her hand on Barty’s shoulder. “If you two get coffee, get me one, too. Something black and strong, thank you.”

“Yes, Minnie,” Evan said, grinning cheekily.

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Wip Whenever

Got tagged by @skyrim-forever @sanza-17 @nyarevar @lobo-inu @firefly-factory @saltymaplesyrup <3

tagging @sulphuricgrin @thescrolls-haveforetold @scholarlyhermit @viss-and-pinegar @archangelsunited @pocket-vvardvark no pressure tagging as per usual.

I've done a bit recently on both the Yani painting and chapter 19 of Serious Mistakes so I'll post a bit of both.

Art first.

(Click for full) Yani's got a face! I'm happy with how his eyes turned out. I gotta start on his face scaring next.

POV sad, fight prone smuggler who barely speaks Redoran Dunmeris properly makes eye contact with you from across the corner club.

Next we have a chunk of writing that i'll put under the cut. It's a dialogue scene between Josh and his niece, the Urshilaku Wise Woman circa 4E 199. This is during a healing session (roughly 1000 words).

“When did you get cut?” She frowned, pointing at his shoulder, “It looks recent, and the stitches have broken, why didn’t you tell me about it when I was healing the cut on your temple?”

Teldryn sighed and glanced at his shoulder, noting the small droplets of blood that welled along its surface, “Was fighting off an ambush a few days ago an got a taste of the fucker’s sword. The ah…outlander patched me up.”

“See, she likes you,” Ki smiled as she uncorked the potion and handed it to him.

Teldryn shook his head as he brought the potion to his lips and took a drink, grimacing at the bitterness of it, “Nar she just found me half gone in a cave. Means nothing.”

He could feel his cheeks flush as he finished the potion, feeling the pain that was radiating throughout his body slowly lessen. Gods, why was he having this conversation now… with his niece of all people? The fact that she was grinning at him the way she was only served to enhance his embarrassment.

“Oh, I see how it is,” She teased, taking the empty glass vial from him and placing it to the side, “Teldryn you are allowed to be happy.”

“It’s not—” Teldryn stammered, pouting a little, “I don’t— It’s complicated, Ki.”

“Dae’ata, you say that about everything,” She sighed, “She seemed sad when you left dinner last night.”

“I ah…” He sighed, dragging his hand across his face, “I didn’t exactly make the best first impression…or second— third. You know how I’m a fuck up.”

Ki frowned, reaching over to better examine his shoulder, “You put too much pressure on yourself.”

“If I don’t then I fuck up, Ki,” Teldryn frowned, “Or Nerevar fucking escapes an starts running amok. Which is what happened.”

“Nerevar doesn’t like new people, I know,” She replied, moving off the bed again and moving towards her bag, “I think I can heal that gash enough for you to not need those stitches. If you can just sit up.”

Teldryn did as instructed, pulling himself up and resting his back against the carved bedhead. The position sent an uncomfortable tugging sensation through his pelvis.

“I do not like that you are still making that face,” Ki frowned, sitting beside him again. She passed him a still steaming mug of what smelt like black kaveh, and he was thankful for the warmth of the mug between his palms.

“I think tilting it outwards pulled something or…I don’t know,” Teldryn mumbled, shaking his head, “It feels like knots in there.”

“Well, there should be a lot of scaring if my predecessor’s notes are anything to go by,” Ki sighed as she brought a small set of sheers to his shoulder and started snipping at the remaining threads, “And I can feel a lot of resistance in it when I was moving it around. The fact that you can still walk without assistance on a good day really is a marvel.”

“Your aunt was as talented as you are with this sort of thing,” Teldryn smiled, taking a sip of his kaveh.

Ki shook her head, biting on her lower lip, “I am still trying to understand what gave her the idea to just cut you open and heal the bone from the inside.”

“I ah…I don’t really remember much of it,” Teldryn mumbled, his gaze falling to his lap, “but apparently nothing else was working because of the Corprus.”

Ki nodded, carefully pulling out each stitch from his shoulder, “Sometimes I wonder whether I should replicate it, try and heal some of the scaring internally.”

“An subject yourself to the ooze that’s in there?” Teldryn grumbled, “Nar it’s not necessary, dumu. I’m fine.”

“It is a thought,” she sighed, taking a sip of her drink. “I guess I want to see you riding guar again, as in the stories.”

Teldryn chuckled, trying his best not to strain his aching muscles too much, “I think I’m a bit past ever doing that again. Besides, I wasn’t actually all that good at it, was more Erra’s thing.”

“Still, I wish I could have seen it,” She smiled warmly, readying her spell in her hand, “I mean in a way that I could remember.”

“I remember Erra taking both of us for a ride up to the coast,” He smiled to himself and tried his best to relax as Ki cast her spell, “He strapped you between us an I swear I was so afraid the whole contraption was gonna fall over—”

“It didn’t though,” She cut in, her eyes meeting his, “If I recall the stories correctly, you stopped me from being a mudcrab’s lunch.”

“Yeah, but I don’t trust myself with kids, you know that.” Teldryn sighed, shaking his head, “I mean you know what shit’s like with Adren. I fucking suck at the important stuff.”

“Hey, that’s not something you could have fixed,” She frowned, her fingers lightly moving across his skin, stitching the gash together under her fingertips, “Even seers cannot see everything, and you cannot help not knowing about him until you were out of exile.”

“You know he helped me out with this whole Tong business,” Teldryn mumbled as he took another sip of his drink. The revelation was still so strange to him, the two hadn’t quite been on speaking terms since the boy’s mother passed just after Red Year. The fact that Adren had taken it upon himself to get his name cleared…maybe there was still a chance?

“I thought you said the outlander did?” Ki raised her eyebrow at him, her fingers slowly moving down his arm, his wound slowly scaring over as she healed it.

“She spoke to him when she was in Skyrim,” Teldryn sighed to himself, “Apparently, he’s why I was released into the Free-Winter’s custody. Managed to convince them I wasn’t a murderer with like…evidence an shit.”

“I do not think your son hates you as much as you pretend,” Ki sighed, “I do, however, think that he is as stubborn as you, dae’ata.”

“Yeah, but like don’t tell him that,” Teldryn grinned, “I… I’m proud of him though, even if he doesn’t actually want anything to do with me.”

“I think he might come around eventually,” Ki sighed as she dismissed her spell, “Obviously he does not wish to see you harmed.”

[linipikk]

They really spent a lot of time pointing to the second coming for Apolaypse 2 electric boogaloo

all 3 minisodes are about ... humans dying and being brought back to life, or more like, how that is not possible...and how Heaven and Hell have worked around that

In A Companion to Owls, Job kids never died even when they should have, Heaven didn't know enough to distinguish that they were the same children and Sitis quickly got that the miracle was... that their children didn't die to begin with. Once they are dead it is game over and Crowley and Aziraphale refused to let them die

In The Resurrectionists (it is literally called The Resurrectionists!!) and it is how one girl is shot and they can't do anything once she is dead. And Crowley still goes off of his way to make sure the other one doesn't kill herself, risking everything. And we know hell's extreme sanctions are probably what makes him ask for insurance, for holy water. On the other hand, this episode is called The ResurrectionistS, plural, but we meet only one of them ..while in the other side of the sign is Christ himself.

THEN in 1941, we have ZOMBIES, the literal living dead walking around, and Furfur states that he can't make them living people again due to a clause and just leave them as zombies to roam the earth. We see how cursed they are, rotting and bound to eat brains but not human.

EVEN! From episode 1, we get a big Clue: miracles are measured in lazarii, and resurrecting someone is no easy feat. They were telling us to watch out about coming back to life... and how only the mightiest of archangels are able to use that amount of power (or an angel and a demon holding hands...)

and I do want to point out that part of the things Gabriel remembered was this line

Job kids didn't die, in victorian england Wee Morag died falling in the hands of a resurrectionist, and the Germans died and came back- just not quite alive. Every day it is getting closer,

... they are telling us that the second coming is afoot, but they are also showing us that there is no second opportunity on this earth. Once you are dead, you are dead.

and Crowley, in the direst time when Aziraphale is breaking his little demonic heart, says

And now, the plan to resurrect one human to make the end of the world happen is in Aziraphale's hands.

[hinamie]

spiraling

[kwoojii]

[compacflt]

question: how do you find your research/sources? yours and dancing disasters' icemav fics are so inside baseball i love it, but how do you go about doing research?

I just read a lot & google stuff I don't know & am curious about. not that hard to start learning. and in terms of reading I've been interested in military history & milfiction my whole life. mostly related to the US army, actually--im extremely new to naval history and naval literature; all of that interest was driven by top gun. I've also been fortunate enough to visit a lot of the places I write about--ive been to Pearl Harbor a couple times & San Diego MANY times, for instance, and I've toured a few aircraft carriers and military bases. I've also finally bitten the bullet and kinda shifted my career path towards aerospace, so I've been learning a lot just by working in the aerospace & defense sector/spending a lot of time with people who do.

that's obviously not to say that I am somehow Educated in all this stuff. im pretty open on this blog about me being young & naive & wrong much of the time about how the real world works. so, you know, a lot of shit I just Make Up according to my preconceived notions of the military & the world.

here is my recommended military/navy reading list, some fiction and some nonfiction.

someone also asked recently if I had read anything good in the last 6 months--yes!! three new additions to my reading list: a) Billy Lynn's Long Halftime Walk by Ben Fountain. So goddamn good. If you have to read only one novel about the Iraq War, make it this one. It's more about America than it is about Iraq. b) Redeployment by Phil Klay. This one is a collection of short stories about Marines in Iraq, written by a USMC vet, talk about inside baseball. Crazy amounts of jargon in here, basically a "to-google" list. won the national book award which idk if it deserved, but it's good. c) No true glory: A Frontline Account of the Battle of Fallujah by Bing West. currently reading this one, really well done so far, talks a lot about how fucked the US strategy was in Iraq with Fallujah serving as a metonymy/case study for the war itself.

again... this is all mostly close-quarters-combat (infantry) literature, I really am not that interested in the navy/Air Force that much outside of top gun lol

though I did recently remember that in early 2022, before I was into top gun, I read "Wingmen" by Ensan Case, which is actually a gay US naval aviator romance set in WWII published in 1979! it's really authentic and kind of sad, obviously, since it was a 1940s navy gay love story published in 1979. I don't actually think Wingmen influenced how I wrote wwgattai or how I think of TG/TGM but I just remembered that I read that book in February 2022 and going "oh my god they were wingmen" so maybe you might find that book interesting.

[angelicdonuts]

Nene and girlfriend this time :3 !!

Grhghvhhg the girls... the shawty baes..

(Still more!! Next post is gonna be boyfriend focused [with a little bit of Pico too ^_^] !!)

[acts-of-paul-and-thecla]

Hey ik we never talked but it truly makes me happy to see that you're getting better. That's hard and you're doing it. I'm so proud of you and I only wish you the best in life. It really gives me hope that all of us can recover eventually <3

<33 im glad that i could help in that way, at least a little

i know its what everyone says, but recovery is the most brilliant and life changing thing in the world. it was very difficult in the beginning, but it gets easier and easier - i hope you are doing well, and that you keep on fighting and that one day it will all be alright for you

[randamhajile]

I hate NY so fucking much. Nothing functions out here anymore. Doing literally anything is a fucking nightmare, and an expensive one. It doesn't matter where you're going or what you're doing, getting there is a miserable unpredictable experience and once you're there pray to God nothing goes wrong. I have so many fucking horror stories from the last 4 years. Hate hate hate hate hate

[kyshiwarrior]

i would love for jet and kyoshi to sit and discuss how theyre two sides of the same coin and in this essay, i will —

[alilaro]

small personal update

.

taking a break from being so intensely involved with volturi fandom has been a really good thing for me I think.

I still think about and draw them daily—to me they are like my own characters now, with long much I have changed them, and how much it has changed me since being a preteen.

But I think I got so obsessed with posting, being liked, and being a weird persona of myself that I just burnt myself out. Especially from 2017—2019, I was just a mess, and addicted to the praise and attention I got from posting non-stop, and making content almost purely to please others (which I now realize was a way of escaping the nightmare that was my previously incredibly abusive household, and the years of neglect that came with it.)

And now, since 2022 I've been on a hiatus, and I think that was the right decision for me.

its been really hard in some ways. After escaping my toxic father, the shock and grief of it all was so so much for me to handle. All those years, my entire life, locked in a room, guilted and fear-mongered into complete and never-ending isolation; to finally be free from that was both liberating but the hardest thing I've ever done, and it crushed me, it drained everything from me, including my one tether: my art.

i struggled with it for a while, and still do. i still only draw the bare minimum, but when I draw now its for me. there's no more 'cant draw That because its Cringe'. theres no constant, nagging guilt from not posting something in over a month. i don't have to make excuses, or grovel manically for imagined people to forgive me—as if not posting is some cardinal sin.

i just draw for fun, because I feel like it. because it makes me happy. :-)

[maipareshaan]

I feel like i haven't seen Samblr in forever and probably a lot of them just don't exist now idk at all but like Deanblr is so reactionary about Deancrit all the time like idk what wars are going on but my god they are always whining about it lol