#reblog to save a womb

[onwacollective]

I created this Womb Healing Masterpost a year or so ago. Since then, I’ve continued to grow this list of resources, adding more info as I learn it. Every book, interview, podcast on the list I’ve read or listened to and found useful in my own healing. But I realize all this info can be overwhelming, confusing, and time consuming to get through to create the real change needed to balance your hormones. So, I’ve created cycle syncing wallpaper habit reminders to support women and menstruating individuals in balancing their hormones HERE.

How to use:

These are specifically created for the 80% of women experiencing hormonal imbalance. I’ve designed them to make integrating the information and ancestral wisdom needed to balance hormones easily accessible. Switch each wallpaper background as you transition through each phase of your cycle. Every time you glance at your phone you get a reminder of what to focus on at a specific point in your cycle.

Each wallpaper contains:

🌟 A hormonal phase specific grocery list informed by the Autoimmune protocol (AIP) which means it excludes largely known gut irritants like nuts, seeds, beans, eggs, nightshade vegetables etc.

🌟 A list of herbal teas specific to the needs of each hormonal phase

🌟 A list of self-care practices specific to each hormonal phase

🌟 A journaling prompt

🌟 An affirmation

🌟 Basic overview of the hormonal changes occurring within the body during each phase

🌟 A list of vitamins/minerals to focus on in each phase (grocery list includes foods that contain these vitamins/minerals!)

🌟 Best care practices and tips for each phase

I have a vision of these hanging as posters in schools to teach children about the changes in each cycle. I wanted to make balancing hormones so easy that teenage me could do it. The info on the habit reminders connects to the practices and teachings described in the original tumblr post so if you ever want to dive deeper into a segment of info you can. You can find more info on how to download HERE.

If we let it, womb healing can be a beautiful initiation into feminine power. Be gentle with yourself 💗

[holmsister]

Ok, my long delayed post about Kabru and the Winged Lion. This does not end here, I'm adding more in a reblog.

Heavy on spoilers. Taking the extra material from @dunmeshistash who I apologise to as usual

Let's start here:

I don't care if you're a wasp you owe him 22 years of alimony

Two important takeaways here:

1) Kabru's hatred of monsters is caused not just by the Utaya catastrophe, but also from the fact that even before that, his unusual eye color was connected to monsters in local lore, and this led to ostracisation and, we can imagine, violence or at least the threat of violence towards him and his mother, serious enough that she escaped to Utaya, aka the place where the dungeon would kill her.

Kabru crucially does not place the fault for this on his father's family, but on himself for being born with 'monstrous eyes'. This is a normal way of reacting to ostracization in children, interiorising instead of projecting the trauma. It's much easier to imagine a world in which there's actually something wrong with you than one in which others might make you suffer for no reason. Monsters are also much more likely to be offered as an explanation by the adults than the actual more realistic explanations (infidelity or rape), which would not be considered appropriate.

This means that indirectly, child Kabru feels that his own 'monstrosity' is responsible for his mother moving to Utaya to protect him and ultimately dying.

2) in the Dungeon Meshi world there are specifically legends about *demon* succubi and incubi (real world lore says succubi prey on men and incubi on women and I assume that's what Laios is referring to with the distinction, but besides that lets assume theyre one and the same), distinct from the *actual monsters* succubi. The demons and monsters have a similar MO of using a person's desires to capture them, but while monster succubi suck a person's vital force, the demons supposedly use the men for their seed and the women for their womb to reproduce (again, completing dungeon meshi lore with bits of real world lore here). Laios, our local monster expert, thinks those demons are just legend. He tells us there are monsters that do use people as incubators for their eggs but I highly doubt that's Kabru's case, uncanny resemblance to a wasp notwithstanding (Laios...)

From here we go to:

Kabru's incredible rizz

This is where the tumblr search function spat in my face and ran away with the rest of my references while giggling. Oh well.

It's noted over and over in canon and extra material that Kabru is charming. More than that: Kabru *will do anything to get someone to like him*.

Worth noting that Daya and Holm *like* Kabru. This is not them disparaging an acquaintance, this is them levelling a criticism at a good friend, a criticism that seems to have been levelled at him before even ("it's no surprise...").

So, important takeaway: Kabru isn't just charming in general, he VERY SPECIFICALLY makes an effort to be charming. He needs people to like him, to trust him, and in order to obtain this, he's willing to lie and pretend.

Like with the Canaries: he needs them to trust him so they will keep him privy to their plans. So he plays up the poor innocent baby orphan angle:

And with Laios? The what (pretending to like monsters) we know, but why?

Kabru thinks Laios is the only one who can conquer the dungeon without the elves or the dwarves intervening and taking control. He is however very worried about his motivation. He wants to know why Laios is going so deep into the dungeon - beyond wanting to save his sister. What motivates him? Can he be trusted?

In the Toshiro chapters we find out that he has been trying to get in contact with him for weeks, possibly months, but this is the first time he has had a real possibility to meet him, and in order to make sure to leave a positive memory and possibly be an influence in the future, he pretends to be aligned with Laios' as much as possible, including hiding his hatred of monsters. I have written tons on this that has now been lost to tumblr like tears in the rain, but: I do not joke when I say that I think Kabru is flirting with Laios before and after the harpy egg incident. Let's be clear: Kabru's intentions are not romantic at this point. But he has noticed how lovestruck Laios was with Toshiro before their confrontation, and he's thinking, well, if I can get him to develop a similar crush on me, I can probably get him to listen to me more easily. Like I can mince words and put things in scary quotes but that's straight up what's happening. Kabru is trying to establish a close bond that wasn't there before: it might not be necessarily sexual, but it's definitely a type of seduction.

It kinda works.

The rest in a reblog because I ran out of space.

[theoxenfree]

SIMULACRA

homunculus creature x reader | 2.6k | 18+

your father never lets you into the basement and refuses to tell you what's down there. one day, he hires a thief and you fall in love. a year later, your lover goes missing, and you descend into the basement to uncover what secrets your father has hidden from you.

warnings; dark content for some graphic depictions of body horror, grotesque imagery, dubcon, implications of voyeurism, incestuous leanings (mentioned only), mentions of grave robbing, stealing cadavers, roughly proofread.

third prompt for my little october project! not an easy read if you're squeamish! if you enjoyed/found this interesting, pls help ya girl out and reblog + interact!! 🙏🏻

Father had hired a thief to steal many small and many large things for him over the course of a year. All things he refused to confide in anyone else about but for the thief. In exchange for the labor of the thief’s expertise, Father offered him the skeleton key for which to open every room in the house, including your own.

By the end of the first month, the thief knew the whereabouts of every item in your family home, whose footsteps sounded across the floorboards on a dreary day, and at what time every night your father would descend to the basement when madness overtook him.

“He is a strange man. He asks me to find many strange things for him. Some of those things even I feel guilty for stealing,” said the thief, having woken you in the middle of the night to fix him a warm beverage. As part of compensation for his stay, you were told to care for him just as you would a revered guest. “He must actually be mad. There is no other explanation.”

You did as you were supposed to, fixed the thief warm milk and carried over a plate of dry biscuits to bloat his stomach. All of this, you hoped, would wear him out so you could return to bed.

“Father is a studied man. He was a doctor in town, once,” you told him, wiping crumbs off the table with the flat side of your hand. “He was one for a long time, I think. I don't actually know. He says Mother died trying to give birth to me, so he removed me from her womb himself and there was no saving her. It's always just been the two of us here, and a few servants to keep up the house.”

“It's strange to me, then, how a man of medicine and healing is so invested in the things that he is.” The thief always ate and drank steadily as though deprived of sustenance, despite all your efforts to feed him better than yourself. You continued shifting crumbs across the table, off the edge onto your apron, thinking that men of his nature really knew no manners at all.

“He used to be a surgeon,” was enough to put that part of the conversation to rest. He finished his midnight meal and handed his empty cup off to you to wash at the sink. “What do you see when you're downstairs? He always deadbolts it so I cannot get inside, even with that key he gave you.”

The thief took the lantern from the table over to you, illuminating the space in cold orange flickers and distended shadows moving erratically across the walls. You didn't look away from your task, but you could feel his nearness to you—the warmth of him and his breath almost touching the side of your neck.

“Interesting!” He smiled handsomely; a good, even a smile that didn't show too much of his mouth, too many teeth, too much eagerness. “And how long have you been trying to weasel your way into his personal space downstairs?”

“Long enough,” you assured, wiping the cup dry before giving him your full attention. “Just tell me what you've seen! The old bastard is selfish and won't tell me a thing! What's happening in my own home? I think I deserve to know.”

His hand let down the lantern, resting it on the countertop, and then stroked your face with the peaks of his knuckles. Compared to everything else he touched: rotted wood coffins splintering and softening in his grip, chiseled stone doors leading into tombs shared by generations of inbred aristocrats laid side by side forever, delicate heirlooms, porous and misshapen bones still wet with meat and decay; you were the softest, and the most pleasant thing he'd ever felt.

“Actually,” said the thief, now holding you behind the jaw and in your hair with both his hands, “I don't think you deserve to know. I mean that in the best way possible because I don't want you to know what goes on down there. I don't want you to see what I've seen. Forget it and come upstairs with me.”

The house had settled into deep silence, a sort of stillness a lot like holding a breath in anticipation. You knew it was partially your own fault for that because you weren't sure you'd taken a single breath as he led you back to your room, bolted the door, and kissed you.

Father believed you were different from the rest of the young adults in town. Thought you so much greater than them that he'd never entertained the idea you'd ever want a friend, a lover, to be touched and ravished by someone as that sort of thinking aligned with the licentious townsfolk and nobles partaking in opioid induced orgies.

“Get on your stomach.” The thief shucked your bodies bare of clothes and pressed you down into the bed how he wanted before pushing his cock into you, pacing his thrusts and depth to start before fucking you down into the mattress.

It hurt. It felt good. It was humiliating being fucked like a beast, but you loved how he lost himself in the act and bit and bruised you, moaned and grunted in your ears. He was vile in the way he confessed his lifetime of sins to you, whispering against your skin as though you were the priest, the confessional, and the God who would lead him to absolution.

He really only became himself again after he finished inside of you, cock soft, his words even softer and lavishing. Whether or not he meant what he said didn't matter, because you were in love with him.

Your life continued on that way almost every night for the better part of a year. Seeking the deepest and most sacred parts of one another—yours from the desire to know him and to be known, his to pour out his sorrows, beg forgiveness, seek vengeance through thunderclaps of stinging skin that turned your eye whites bright red and appalled your waking thoughts with vicious, awful words.

But then, one morning, Father said the thief had left early, just as the sun rose and basked the valley in golden dewdrops and velvety mist, and never planned to return.

“How can that be!” you spent most of the day afterwards wretched, filling various rooms of the house with nauseating weeps and bitter resentment. “He wouldn't just leave me! I love him! He loves me! I know him better than that.”

“Oh,” sighed Father, looking somehow haggard and anxious like a hare circled by airborne hawks. You noticed the way his eyes couldn't stay put, roamed over a space again and again as though concerned anything might change without him realizing. He was particularly fixated on the door leading down into the basement. “You stupid child. A man like that could never love you! A man like that only knows thievery! He steals things! He steals people. He'd steal you away if he had the chance. Only I know how to love you!”

“I am not a child! I haven't been a child for a long time,” you said. “You don't know anything about love. The only thing you've ever loved is your work.”

Father restrained himself in the end, looked at you equally grievous and as though he had something else to say, but felt it was a useless argument in the end. He found his wool coat by the doorway, tugged the sleeves up his arms, and said he was leaving for the nearby village to find a new thief to replace the one who had left—your beloved thief.

Hours later, he had returned home in a renewed good spirits despite no success finding someone else to take up all the same tasks the last thief had. The aged wine he drank weighed his breath, stank up the house en route to his bedroom with sour fermentation, the sweetness of grapes.

You only emerged from your quarters once his snores tore through the walls, seemed to leach into the slabs underfoot and vibrate up against your toes as you padded across them, down the stairs, and deeper down still when you discovered Father had left the basement door unbolted in his anger earlier.

To disguise this betrayal, you tried to simulate his typical circumspection by closing the door fully after you, hearing the grind of metal as you slid the latch into place to secure it from the inside, and careened further into the depths without a light, guided only by your excitement and resolve to unveil what was always hidden from you.

“What in the world?” you asked no one, just the vast space of the basement and all of the strange things within it. The air smelled thickly of coins and rust, making your tongue salivate as if taking a mouthful of soil and copper into your mouth. It was a damp sort of scent, like being entrapped by lingering humidity after a summer storm.

The further you wandered, the odder the tabletops of implements you saw. Clear glass vessels of all sorts: flasks, beakers, tubes with dried substances inside. Piles of medical texts, some of infections and pathology; most were specifically about anatomy and physiology. You fluttered through the pages of one tome which seemed to exclusively discuss the organic components that made up different layers of skin and fat.

Onward still, deeper inside the basement, there were sealed vats emanating particularly repugnant odors. Some so strong you couldn't bring yourself closer than twenty feet of them without the need to turn, vomit into a crevice in the ground, and widen the distance more.

Last were the tables, some built solidly out of teakwood, others shabby metal—all of them mysteriously dark and stained—

Just then came a jutting sound, sharp and metallic, feet away from where you stood on another table you'd yet to reach. For some reason, you hadn't noticed this one right away despite there being quite a sizable mass sprawled across it, restrained.

It was human-shaped, broad-shouldered and sinewy. Even from where you stood, you believed you could see the striations in its arms as it struggled against thick cuffs at the wrists. You thought it looked simultaneously enormous, yet entirely malnourished, off in proportions with a complexion gray as any ash left behind after a bonfire.

“Are…” you spoke, it lurched against its restraints and made you jump. “Are you—are you alright? Who are you?!”

Suddenly, the creature’s limbs went soft, relenting to the sound of your voice as if in recognition and instead of trying to break its shackles, it tried reaching out towards you. For a moment, you considered humoring the poor thing, alleviating it of whatever loneliness it has experienced while down in this bleak, vile location.

You got close enough to finally see upon every minutiae detail, and the horrible thing was that everything deserved thorough inspection.

“What in God's name are you?!” you whimpered and scoffed in disgust, seeing the patchwork of its body with sheets of many different skins, all some variance of color, though all entirely gray and dead. His appendages were adhered at each joint with staples, sewn with the thickest black cord you'd ever seen and coated with blood and pieces of human meat.

No part of this creature looked to be made of any single human—any one man—but an amalgam of tautly stretched, cleverly tucked pieces of many. Even his genitalia were a construction of several parts.

The creature stayed calm in your presence, repeatedly raising, lowering his head onto the hard metal to better see you. The innermost of his lips were blackened purple and he parted them with immense effort, eventually giving you a view of his pristinely aligned teeth and tongueless mouth.

“You can't speak—oh my god. You can't speak. Where's your tongue? What are you? What are you?” but, the answer was that he was many different men. The better question was whose brain was seeing you through mismatched brown and blue eyes?

The longer he stared at you and you stared at him, witnessed his hideously lovely face cycle through a pattern of confusion to familiarity—a demented soul constantly finding miniscule pockets in coherency—the horror struck you more than the gladness and overflow of love making your hands shake.

“My—my beloved!” you said huskily, shy of bursting into tears and collapsing on top of him. Your trembling fingers felt his glacial skin, how utterly dead and stiff it was, but you didn't care. “My father did this to you?! He took your brain? He put you into this monstrosity?! But, why?”

The creature’s mouth couldn't answer, but the thief’s brain, in those brief flickers of remembrance, wanted to reveal that your father was a pervert—had witnessed him bed you for months on end before something snapped, something inside him changed and he could no longer bear the idea you loved another more than him.

That you might run away. Leave.

The thief had been cleaved alive, different parts of him not yet used stored in the vats scattered throughout the basement. His brain was brilliant, it was why he was such a remarkable thief, made him the ideal candidate to finally bring a sentient homunculus to fruition.

It worked. Your father had created something neither dead, nor alive, nor entirely human, nor thoughtless beast.

“Oh, my love,” you kissed his cold, unmoving lips and then searched your pockets for the skeleton key you'd kept hidden from your father. “Forgive him. Forgive that terrible man for what he's done. I fear he's been unwell for a long time now. A very long time. He is not right.”

But, the thief’s brain was not so kind, nor was any other part he was made up of. He only existed in agony and hatred and faint fondness when he saw your face.

Against all odds, the skeleton key fit and soon he was free of the restraints. They struck the metal tabletop heavily and with a stinging clatter, resonating through your mind in an echo that shook you with dread and despair—the foreboding of some grave consequence soon to come that you did not yet understand.

He sat astride the table for a moment, doing little besides testing his range of movement, the entire width that he could spread his arms, flexed his fingers and toes, felt all the different regions of himself and all the different men he now was. And, once he was ready to get off the table, his gait listed a little to the right on his weaker leg.

“Please, my love, let's just leave,” you told him, curling yourself around one of his arms as he lumbered towards the staircase leading back up. “Let that man be! Let him rot all his own without us here! We can still be together, and I still love you.”

Perhaps, in what remained of his psyche, he loved you too, but could no longer understand what a dream was nor the true complexities of longing.

What he could understand was that you'd never stop trying to thwart him, so once on the second floor where the bedrooms were swallowed in black static silence, he shoved you into yours and jammed the door so you couldn't get out.

At first, your father didn't drunkenly stir awake to the sound of your voice calling out hysterically from your room, fists pounding against the wall directly above his bed. It was only when the creature had grabbed him around his head with massive hands, squeezing him like a tightening belt, thumb pads pressing into his eyes that he was truly awake.

The agonized screams of your father were only dampened by your screams of terror from the other side of the wall.

[n0tamused]

Hello there! I hope your day has been going smoothly!

As your requests are currently open (I hope I read it right), may I request Platonic!Jiyan x Sibling!Reader Angst, where reader dies not because they are a midnight ranger, but because of a chronic disease they were diagnosed with?

Reader and Jiyan can be twins, or Jiyan can be the older brother. Up to you!

I hope you have a great day!

A/N: Not sure what to say other than that I love writing angst and that I hope you enjoy this anon, sorry for the wait :)

Contents: Familial Jiyan x Twin!Reader, GN pronouns, angst, short lol, character death

Death crawls through the midnight blue washed streets of the Jinzhou, its flaky claws seeking and scratching. And seek out their victim it did. Found in a cozy bed that reeked of illness and herbal medicine. Ashes of incense laid on top of a long wooden tray fashioned in the looks of a dragon.

There were more dragon motifs sprawled around, in the embroidery of the blankets, on the painting, on tea cups and jewelry, but not one of those could protect the one confined within the bed and the one forever gone. Pale skin glistened with the remnants of sweat and water they were bathed in, and their hair smelled of old flowers in summer heat, and it was only going to get worse should they remain here, hand held by the person closest to them.

Jiyan. The General. The Qingloong. The medic in his youth. Their brother.

He had returned from the front lines at long last for a short reprieve, only to find his beloved sibling in a worse state than last time. It horrified him even more than the sights he encountered in war, and it shook him to the core. What’s worse, he could smell death waiting at the front door, and entering behind his heel after he went into the bedroom..

His hands gingerly held onto their cold hand, knuckles pressed against his forehead as he remains quiet, foolishly hoping warmth would spring to their skin and they’d greet him with a ruffle to his hair and call him silly for worrying so much. He swallows thickly, cheeks wet from the trail his tears left behind and he breathes out a breath so heavy, one would question how the world didn’t cave in where he sat. 

“I love you…so much..” he whispers before lifting his head up, eyes fluttering shut to spare himself the sight of their forever slumbering face, his lips lingering on their knuckles in expression of love they’d never feel again.

They didn’t share just blood, they shared their childhood years, interests, and they shared their mother’s womb together. Their bond was one closer than any other, yet it was severed all the same as any other. 

“I miss you…”

Even with all the knowledge Jiyan could’ve plucked from Jinzhou and from the outside nations, all various medical practices and all kinds of healers, Jiyan couldn’t save them.

Maybe in another life he saves them, but in this one he gets to carry their memories until his own demise, forever haunted by their absence. 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[thekidsare-not-alright]

for simplicity's sake, do your birth year as is (no "in the womb at the same time" kinda thing, maybe I'll make a follow up poll for that or something idk)

you know the drill, reblog for better results (every rb gives a franklin his wings)

[thevampiremarie]

HOW BADLY DO *YOU* WANT A HEARTLESS UPDATE?

Because I’ve got one that I’m working on…. BUT

(Inspired by @cuckoo-on-a-string )

I want to make art that helps do good. I want my fic to be a haven for the underrepresented, the marginalized, fat people, queer people, disabled people, people of color.

But making art isn’t enough. So I offer a proposition: I will complete and post this chapter of Heartless IF AND ONLY IF Heartless readers collectively donate FIFTY ($50) USD to this gofundme for my friend Lina

Lina is an incredibly brave and strong young woman. She’s a 25 year old woman from Gaza and a new mother. I first got to know Lina when I started donating and boosting the gofundme she made when she was NINE MONTHS PREGNANT to help evacuate her and her husband to Egypt, so she could safely deliver her son Omar.

Remember that miscarriages are up over 300% in Gaza. Remember that tens of thousands of babies, some born and some still in their mothers’ wombs, have been bombed, starved to death, torn into pieces, died from illness, all because of the illegal Israeli occupation and genocide against Palestinians.

We refused to let Lina and her son Omar and her husband Yousef become another family exterminated by Israel. We raised enough money for Lina and her husband to get through the Rafah Crossing into Egypt, where Lina had Omar in a hospital, with anesthesia, antibiotics, doctors tending to her. Not a tent in a bombed refugee camp with no food, water, or medicine.

Now Lina is raising money to help get her family out of Gaza, along with the money necessary to help sustain her and her husband + son’s life in Egypt. Her brother is a heroic paramedic who helped saved countless Gazan lives in the past months of the genocide until he was too injured to help any longer.

I myself have already donated a lot of money towards her cause (I mean in the hundreds). But I can do more and we can do more. If even TEN Heartless readers give $5 USD, we’ll have hit the goal and I will update AS SOON AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE.

How does this work? Send me proof that you’ve donated (whatever amount you can) via my ask inbox or my direct messages, I will reblog this post to let everyone know how close we are to our goal + check with Lina to make sure she’s got the donations, and that’s it! Easy peasy.

Every dollar counts. You can also share her gofundme with YOUR friends and family, ask them to donate. If they do, send me the same proof and I’ll count it towards our goal!!!

Through collective people power, we saved Omar. He and Lina would’ve died in Gaza if Lina had to give birth there. He is an innocent baby boy who has the right to grow up in a peaceful, loving, healthy environment with his family. He deserves that.

Please only give what you are able to. If you can’t give anything, share Lina’s gofundme with anyone who can give. Help us save Lina’s family and give baby Omar the chance to grow up, and get some fic out of it.

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week

😷 - Mask off, but guard up! Seems like we're out of the tunnel

1. Abandoned dog seen wandering Detroit streets with stuffed toy rescued, now receiving care

An abandoned dog is preparing for a new home after animal rescue groups spent days trying to find her when she was spotted wandering Detroit with a stuffed toy. Nikki's owner recently died, and she was left to wander the streets with her favorite toy. 

As Nikki receives her care, the animal workers are making sure she is ready to head to her foster home. Almost Home is collecting donations to help pay for the treatment and Niki's care. Donate here.

2. New foster care agency matching LGBTQ+ kids with queer carers to become ‘their amazing, wonderful selves’

A new foster care service has been launched to help match LGBTQ+ young people with supportive carers and families in the South East of England. Apex Q, a service from agency Apex Fostering, will help encourage more LGBTQ+ foster carers, provide training and create more placements for queer children.

Apex Fostering, which covers north and east London as well as several southern counties, including Hertfordshire, Essex and Cambridgeshire, launched in 2021 and claims to have already placed more than 60 young people with foster families. 

3. Newquay Zoo celebrates birth of rare 'warty' piglets

A pair of rare piglets has been born at Newquay Zoo in Cornwall. The Visayan warty pigs, named for the three pairs of fleshy "warts" on the boar's face, which protect it while fighting rival pigs, are part of a breeding programme at the zoo.

The species lives in the forests of the Philippines, where there could be as few as 200 animals left.

4. New Alzheimer's drug slows disease by a third

We could be entering the era of Alzheimer's treatments, after the second drug in under a year has been shown to slow the disease. Experts said we were now "on the cusp" of drugs being available, something that had recently seemed "impossible".

The company Eli Lilly has reported its drug - donanemab - slows the pace of Alzheimer's by about a third.

5. Covid global health emergency is over, WHO says

The World Health Organization (WHO) has declared that Covid-19 no longer represents a "global health emergency". The statement represents a major step towards ending the pandemic and comes three years after it first declared its highest level of alert over the virus.

But Dr Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus warned that the virus remained a significant threat.

6. Doctors have performed brain surgery on a fetus in one of the first operations of its kind

The baby’s condition, known as vein of Galen malformation, was first noticed during a routine ultrasound scan at 30 weeks of pregnancy. The seven-week-old is one of the first people to have undergone an experimental brain operation while still in the womb. It might have saved her life.

Before she was born, this little girl developed a dangerous condition that led blood to pool in a 14-millimeter-wide pocket in her brain. The condition could have resulted in brain damage, heart problems, and breathing difficulties after birth. It could have been fatal. The baby girl was born healthy. She didn’t need any treatment for the malformation.

7. Lastly, watch this father stork brings a blanket to warm up mother stork

----

That's it for this week :)

This newsletter will always be free. If you liked this post you can support me with a small kofi donation:

Buy me a coffee ❤️

Also don’t forget to reblog. SUBCRIBE HERE for more good news in your inbox

[changenameno]

My Own (Chapter 4)

Summary:

Geralt finds himself once more on the path, gloomily looking at what lies ahead.
And you? You had no one, no home and certainly no coin. Well that’d be something you had in common. No coin. You two are surely off to a great start…

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem. Nymph Reader

Warnings: 18+, tragic backstory, death + violence, angsty ending to this chapter, MDNI (there will be smut in the future)

Word count: 1.1K

A/N: Geralt learns who you are exactly…. I whipped this up, yesterday night, when I had a minute to myself :)…Again all reblogs and comments are much appreciated (please be kind though)! Hope you enjoy reading!❤️✨

(FYI: This won’t follow the exact timeline of the Witcher. But Geralt has met Jaskier already.)

!The Witcher characters and world are not mine!

 

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

(In case you’ve missed CHAPTER 3)

CHAPTER 4
 

Neither you, nor him wanted to talk about what had occurred. So instead of making this anymore awkward than need be, you both had settled in, by the fire.

As the silence between you stretched relentlessly, you became more and more restless, so you told him your name and then continued, “Well just thought you might want to know. And…thank you for, removing the arrow.”

“You must be hungry.” Unsure why he seemed to ignore your previous statement, you simply nodded. Because quite frankly you were starving.

Geralt got to his feet and returned shortly, after he’d pulled his water-skin and his last piece of bread out of his saddlebags. He handed them to you, then sat back down to your right, closer than before.

Your mouth salivated just smelling the bread, but first you took a big swing of the water. Murmuring, “Thanks.” Then you began devouring the bread as if it were your last meal.

Focusing on your lips, he wondered how they’d feel against his. Probably soft and perfectly sultry. Evidently unable to stop his speculations, he gave in and let his inappropriate thoughts run free.

In fact he’d been so lost in thought, he only caught the end of what you’d said,”…aren’t you?”

Expectedly you raised your brow, waiting for his answer to your question.

He blinked a few times, trying to clear his head. “What?”

Either he wasn’t used to company — at all — or he was a bit slow. In any case you repeated your earlier query, “I said, you are the whited-haired Witcher. The Geralt of Rivia of the songs, aren’t you? ”

Grinding his teeth at the reminder of Jaskier’s stupid, although well-known songs, he managed a nod, not trusting he wouldn’t snarl at you.

As he didn’t know anything about you, apart from your name, he opted to ask you a question of his own, “How come, I had to remove an arrow from your shoulder? Who shot you and why?”

Another pressing question of his was, what you were? Because he knew you weren’t human. But he’d the feeling you weren’t particularly chatty either, so he wanted to go slow, to prevent you from closing up again.

His question caught you off guard. Yet you knew that you owed him an honest answer, after all he’d saved you and had dressed your wound.

Sighing you began, “It’s a bit of a long story…” Then you told him, how your life had been in danger even before it’d really started. Being born half nymph, half mage, put you in a position of unknown power and therefore in peril. Especially because it wasn’t heard off, that a female mage still possessed a womb and could get pregnant.

Your mother had been a mage at court and your father was a forest nymph. Once they’d met, falling in love head over heels.

You were smiling softly when you told him that next part, “You know nearly like an invisible pull, they were made for each other. Sort of destined to meet.” Geralt listened to you attentively, taking in your every word and expression, while you talked.

He noted that the smile you wore, wasn’t a happy one, as it didn’t reach your eyes and your voice was becoming huskier the longer you continued your story.

“Unfortunately it didn’t end very well for them. Once I was born, my mum tried hiding me from court. Because the king and queen had tried conceiving for years, desperately wanting a child of their own. And she knew they weren’t above, taking me away from her. So I lived with my dad and other nymphs in the nearby forest, for about ten years. Learning their ways and customs.”

Swallowing thickly, you averted your gaze, staring into the sizzling flames in front of you, though proceeding with your narrative, ” One day my mum showed up, devastated. They had found out about me and wanted to have me as their own, as their heir. Going as far as threatening to burn down the whole forest and slaughtering everyone in their way. I was terrified, so I readily agreed to come to court, not wanting anyone to die because of me. What I didn’t know, was that as soon as I was in the castle, they proceeded with their murderous plan. Needing to destroy any chance of being reclaimed by my parents.”

Nearly overcome by emotion, you stopped there, breathing unsteadily.

The Witcher was a better listener than you’d given him credit for, not once interrupting you or commenting.

When your tear filled eyes, landed on his gleaming ones, you somehow found the strength to carry on.

“They killed them. Made me Princess, and declared me their daughter. I hated them, loathed their very existence for years. But they were the only people looking after me. And as much as I hate to admit it, they were kind to me and the castle slowly became my home. But when word spread about my inheritance, other kingdoms grew interested. Proposing marriages, left and right. However the king and queen didn’t want that, outright refused. Their mistake, because a nearby kingdom, saw that as opportunity to take me by force. They came during the night. Killing everyone. Burning down, my second home. The only place I’d left.”

Geralt knew that was the tragic end to the story, because he must have found you shortly after you’d escaped. Now he finally knew why you’d healed so quickly. You were part nymph.

“I’m sorry”, was the only thing that he thought would be appropriate to say.

He was certain you’d told him the truth, because he could list at least five kings that wouldn’t have hesitated to do the same, or would have paid him handsomely, just to get you within their grasp. Something similar must have crossed your mind, since all of a sudden your face was contorted, looking terror-stricken.

He wouldn’t turn you in, would he? You knew supposedly, witchers didn’t have emotions and he’d be paid good money to catch you. And from the looks of it, he surely could need some money. But he’d saved you. So Geralt wouldn’t do it, right? Before your anxious thoughts would overhelm you entirely, you took action.

Your musical, though wavering voice broke the silence,” You’re not turning me in, are you?”

Afraid of his answer, you drew in a sharp breath.

Dread filling you, as he abruptly rose up.

CHAPTER 5

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻



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[valleyof-goldenlilies]

Se Zaldrizoti’ Prumia - Chapter 1: A Platter of Grapes (Daemon Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader)

Chapter 1: A Platter of Grapes 

The Red Keep is graced by an old, familiar presence. 

Se Zaldrīzoti' Prūmia Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | 

HOTD Masterlist | Main Masterlist | 

Warnings: Extremely, and I mean extreme slow burn lol, Daemon and Y/N both being little shits who cannot stand each other, I have a blood feud with the HOTD costuming department for Rhaenyra and thus I go into extreme (probably historical inaccurate) detail about the clothes of the characters, Rhaenicent hints so faint that if you blink you’d miss it 

Word Count: 3.3k words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N Tyrell, although I did expand on their characterisation, which might deviate from canon. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out! 

A/N: A special thanks to all those who have reblogged my ‘Se Zaldrizoti’ Prumia’ related posts 💗 your support is truly appreciated and has been the source of my smiles over the past few days 

lovely dividers courtesy of @firefly-graphics​ !

105 years after Aegon’s Conquest

Queen Aemma’s chambers was a busy hive of activity, as usual. The queen’s serving girls, ladies-in-waiting, and Grand Maester Mellos went in and out of the Queen’s apartments in a constant rotation, fussing over the heavily pregnant Aemma’s every need or discomfort. Aemma herself was exhausted at the constant fussing and prodding, but Viserys was deeply concerned about the babe in Aemma’s womb - which he insisted with vehement conviction was a son, and therefore must be treated with the utmost level of care, and after five failed attempts at producing an heir, Aemma had learnt over the years that to be overcautious was not necessarily a bad thing. 

Aemma sat sprawled on her lounge, occasionally grimacing when a sharp ache rippled through her body should she choose to adjust herself. Clad in a simple white linen shift and an intricately embroidered rose pink robe of Myrish silk and lace, she felt beads of sweat beginning to form at her temples once more. Her pregnancy had cursed her to endure bout after bout of severe sweating, despite the fact that it was nigh autumn and the ladies of the court had taken to long sleeves and wrapping shawls around their shoulders. Closing her eyes and dabbing at her forehead wearily, she sincerely hoped that the babe in her belly would be the boy Viserys had so longed for, if it meant that she would stop being plagued with the labours of pregnancy.

Her tired expression fell in an instant, replaced by a radiant smile as a woman dressed in a light green linen gown with long bell sleeves walked into her view, nodding politely to the exiting Grand Maester. “You finally came back,” Aemma joked lightly, watching the woman take a seat on the cushioned stool next to Aemma’s recliner. “I was afraid you got sidetracked and forgot about my grapes.” 

The woman’s (Y/E/C) eyes flickered with amusement. “I could never dare forget about you, my queen. You would have me beheaded and my head placed on a spike if I did.” Aemma let out a laugh as she reached over to pluck a grape from the bowl in Y/N’s hands. Y/N shook her head at the queen’s lack of dining decorum, but offered up the much awaited platter of grapes to Aemma’s eager hands regardless. “And pray tell, what shall I do if I had executed my favourite and most competent lady-in-waiting, hmm?” Aemma jested, shoving three grapes into her mouth. It was definitely not something a queen should be doing, but Y/N had been Aemma’s lady-in-waiting for nearly two years, and her friend for far longer. Decorum was not a concept that existed between the two of them. 

“You flatter me, Your Grace. And slow down, the grapes will not fly away.” I chided gently, as Aemma continued shoving three grapes at a time into her mouth. “The grapes won’t, although I’m afraid Rhaenyra will. Didn’t she say she would come to see me at first light? It’s nearly midday.” Just then, like clockwork, a commotion could be heard near the entrance to the Queen’s apartments. Princess Rhaenyra and Lady Alicent Hightower’s voice could be heard laughing together among the subservient voices of the servants greeting the two of them. “Speak ill of the Stranger,” I laughed, as Rhaenyra and Alicent appeared in view, smiling with their arms linked. 

Rhaenyra was wearing a silk gown of soft gold, with butterfly sleeves. The bodice had a ribbed triangular corset that was cinched at the waist, and the skirt parted at the middle to reveal a layer of dark crimson brocade, with faint scrollwork detailing in tiny golden threads. A similarly coloured velvet shawl patterned with gold-threaded dragons was draped over her shoulders, to protect her from the chill. Meanwhile Alicent was clad in a gown of light blue worsted yarn, with bell sleeves going to just above her wrists. A thin layer of cream muslin peeked out of her sleeves and ruffles of the same material covered her collarbones modestly. Blue roses were sewn around her waistline, and olive leaves were embroidered around the neckline of her dress. I suppressed a smile when I noticed a garden violet tucked between Alicent’s reddish brown locks, and a similar one nestled in the princess’ white-blonde tresses. 

Rhaenyra immediately went over to Aemma, Alicent staying a respectful distance away. “Your Grace,” Alicent smiled and curtsied politely to Aemma, and Aemma greeted her warmly, “Good morrow, Lady Alicent.” “Mother, Y/N”, Rhaenyra crouched down next to Aemma, holding out a hand to stop me when I stood up to offer her my seat. 

Rhaenyra wrinkled her nose when she noticed her mother clad in such thin clothes, and started detangling her shawl from her shoulders, but Aemma only shook her head with an affectionate smile and stilled Rhaenyra’s motions by cupping her cheek with one hand. “It has been quite long since first light, has it not? You have forgotten about your poor royal mother, Rhaenyra.” 

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, though her voice was tender. “Forgive me, Mother. But the weather was far too lovely for me not to take Syrax out for a flight. She has been growing lazy as of late.” Aemma snorted softly, adjusting a braid that had loosened from Rhaenyra’s hairdo. “Now that explains the dragon stench overwhelming my apartments then. You are lucky that Y/N was kind enough to accompany me during your absence.” “Is it not my duty, my Queen?” I teased, “Unless you find my company repulsive, of course.” Aemma pursed her lips thoughtfully, although her eyes were filled with mischief as she said, “Your company is delightful as always, although the waiting time for my food to be brought up is quite outrageous.” “Then I shall pray to the Seven that they might bestow on me the power of flight to serve you better, your Grace.”

“Seven hells!” Rhaenyra cursed, fumbling in her pockets. “Rhaenyra! Language,” Aemma scolded. “What is it?” I asked, concerned. Rhaenyra groaned in frustration, “I had a present for Mother, but I must have dropped it in the throne room when I was showing it to father yesterday.” “How careless,” Aemma chided, although her tone was soft as Rhaenyra bit her lip and hung her head slightly. She must’ve really wanted to give the present to Aemma. 

“Why don’t I go retrieve it?” I offered, standing up and smoothing my dress. “The kitchens are but a stone’s throw away from the throne room, and I am certain Your Grace’s appetite for grapes has not yet been sated.” 

Rhaenyra’s eyes shone with gratitude, “Yes please! Thank you, Y/N.” “Tis nothing, princess. What does it look like?” “It’s a necklace, with a ruby falcon pendant, ” Rhaenyra described, “I got it to remind Mother of home.” “Oh Rhaenyra,” Aemma murmured softly, a soft look of love flooding her face. Rhaenyra held her hand tightly, “There was a sapphire one, but I thought the ruby one would be fitting. For both your Arryn and Targaryen roots.” Aemma squeezed her daughter’s hand, “I will cherish it fiercely forever, as I do with all your gifts.” My face took on a wistful expression as I watched mother and daughter interact and I spoke softly, “Worry not, princess, I will find it and bring it here.” 

I retreated out of the room, returning Alicent’s smile with one of my own as I passed her on my way out of the room, but not before Aemma called out to me, “Make sure you make haste! Your queen desires for more grapes!” “Of course, my Queen!” I called back, grinning. 

The throne room was blissfully unguarded, which signified the absence of the King, and by extension, any nosy courtiers who might frown upon me fumbling around the throne room like a sneaking rat. ‘Perfect, no need for awkward pleasantries then.’ I opened the double doors leading to the throne room, shutting the doors with a heavy thunk. My eyes took a while to adjust to the gloom of the throne room, but I nearly let out a shriek when I saw a shadowy figure sitting on the throne room. Was that the king? And if so, why in the Seven Hells was he sitting in a darkened throne room? 

“Byka zaldrīzes,” an all too familiar voice called out. My heart thumped furiously in my chest as my mouth dropped open in disbelief.

No. No way. He was somewhere floating around in Lys, if court gossip was to be believed. It couldn’t be him. 

“Won’t you come closer? It’s only been 8 years since we last saw each other. Surely you haven’t forgotten me.” 

Daemon Targaryen. Second son of Prince Baelon and Princess Alyssa, younger brother of king Viserys, and the most annoying royal pain in my ass. 

His petulance and near unnatural ability to be able to get on every single nerve in my body had caused me to become a devoted practitioner of self-restraint, given how badly I longed to throttle him or slit his throat with a dagger whenever he was near me. But much to my consternation, societal propriety rendered me unable to challenge him in a duel or even brawl with him, like most boys would do to sort out their differences. But even so, it was not in my nature to silently endure the countless pranks and jests he tormented me with, and thus I often paid him back tenfold for every misdeed he committed against me. My mother was chagrined, while Prince Baelon and Viserys merely laughed and observed our antics with much amusement, along with the rest of the court. 

My lips twisted in a frown, and my heart still beating fast from the initial shock, I walked closer to the Iron Throne. “As much as I’d like to, your memory still leaves an unwanted stain in my mind.” The figure sitting languidly on the throne leaned forward as I approached, making me finally catch a glimpse of the boy whom I used to detest with every fibre of my being. Although he certainly bore no resemblance to the annoying brat I detested. 

Gone was the lankier frame of his youth. In his stead, it was a man, of tall stature and strong muscular frame, honed by years of intense sword training and puberty. His hair had lengthened considerably since the last time I saw it, and my lips twitched in amusement as I remembered how I had once cut it off when we were children as retribution for him dousing me with a bucket of Arbor Gold while he and I were sneaking around the Red keep late at night, him claiming that he had something interesting to show me. I treasured the memory of that deliciously girlish scream he let out when he realised I had dared cut his precious white-blonde locks. His face had lost its roundness over the years as well, becoming lean and chiselled, lending a harsher quality to his expression, but it only seemed to accentuate his daring and dangerous beauty, or at least, if you listened to the giggles of the twittering ladies of court. His eyes, still filled with that same mischievous glint, watched me as I stood in front of the throne, raking over me shamelessly. I rolled my eyes at that, at least some things never changed. 

“Ah, but you remember me nonetheless.” 

“The emphasis was on the word ‘unwanted’, your Grace.” 

He laughed, leaning back against the throne leisurely as he stared at Y/N. ‘It was a sheer marvel his body was not littered with a thousand cuts by now,’ Y/N thought, a scowl on her face. 

“I see the years have finally taught you some manners. I couldn’t remember the last time you addressed me formally. You always had some rather…colourful turn of phrases up your sleeves, however. Maybe the years of looking for a prospective marriage match have taught you some decorum.” 

I narrowed my eyes at him, the vein in my neck beginning to tick in annoyance, as it always did around him. “You know they say, people age slower when they get married. You are living proof that the saying is false.” He let out a throaty laugh, crossing his legs as his voice took on a mocking tone. “I see your lack of marriage prospects have turned you from sour to bitter, byka zaldrizes.” 

I bristled, “Stop calling me that. Why are you here?” “I heard there was a tournament being held in my honour. I should be in attendance since all this heraldry was made on my account, should I not?” “The tournament is for the King’s heir.” Daemon learned forward again, his tone edged with menace, and defiance. “Precisely as I said.” 

I shook my head, duly unimpressed. “There is no need for you to be sitting on the Iron Throne though. Tis not your place.” Daemon scoffed, “And who are you to command me? I am a Targaryen prince, I sit where I please.” “The King would disagree with that if he were here.” I fired back. 

Suddenly, I remembered I was here on an errand, not for idle chat, so in a huff of frustration, I turned away from the offending prince and began to search the halls for a glint of red anywhere. “Running away, byka zaldrīzes?” I gritted my teeth, resisting the urge to punch him in his smug face. Calm down, Y/N, you already did that once, and by the Seven Hells, the consequences were absolutely not worth it. “Unfortunately, I am here on an errand, not for childish bickering, your Grace.” I heard a faint sound of footsteps behind me, but I ignored them as I continued to pace around the vast empty room. No sign of any necklace at all. I groaned internally. Perhaps I should’ve asked Rhaenyra for more instructions before taking on the task. 

“Could the errand be this?” I whirled around, finding the Prince in far too close a proximity for my liking, a smirk on his lips and a necklace with a ruby falcon dangling from his raised right hand. My eyes widened, chest sagging in relief as I beheld the necklace. “Yes. Oh thank the Seven,” I reached out to grab the necklace, but Daemon only snatched it back. I let out a strangled noise of frustration, “Hey!” 

Daemon leaned in closer, pressing me against a pillar uncomfortably. “Thank the Seven? I think that they shouldn’t be the one you’re directing your thanks to,” he murmured softly. Goosebumps broke out on my skin, as I glared into his eyes. His infuriatingly, inhumanely beautiful purple eyes. Damn him. “Back up.” I hissed. Daemon seemed to take it as an invitation to lean in closer, his face was mere centimetres from mine now. My breathing became more uneven, feeling a mix of frustration and another strange feeling I couldn't place. “Are you going to punch me again if I don’t?” he whispered softly, his eyes sparkling with deviousness and mischief. “Yes,” I hissed. 

���However, if you take a step back, I might find it in me to thank you for your nosiness in picking up things that do not belong to you.” “Yet if it were not for me, you might have needed to scour the whole of King’s Landing to find this little trinket.” He withdrew from me with a smirk, and I huffed, glaring at him. “Well? I’m impatiently awaiting your gratitude, byka zaldrizes.” Gritting my teeth, I finally bit out, “Thank you, Your Grace. Will you please return me the necklace now? The princess is in need of it.” 

A rough laugh escaped him. “Now that’s more like it. You’re very welcome, my lady.” He dropped the necklace into my waiting hand, eyes watching me as I clasped the falcon pendant in my hand and internally praised the Seven for being able to find it, although through an unconventional method. “You changed a lot, you know,” he said, his eyes still studying my face. “That’s to be expected. It’s been 8 years. You have changed too.” “You’re quieter,” he observed. “Well, I can hardly scream at you now that we’re both adults, can I? I have a reputation to maintain.” 

The prince scoffed at that, “Reputation. Lady Primrose always stressed about that. I didn’t think you’d take her lessons to heart.” “She was my mother, Your Grace. And she is correct about the importance of reputation, especially as I am chief lady-in-waiting to the queen now.” I chided him. He chuckled darkly, “The topic of reputation is not one I much care for. You should know that better than anyone, my lady.” I raised my eyebrows, “Is that why you came back to court without Lady Royce then?” Daemon rolled his eyes, “That boring cunt is the least of my worries. Court is already dreadfully dull. Should I need to suffer in her presence for any longer, I might just mount my own head on a spike.” “I always thought you a warrior, but it seems you are a coward in the face of marriage.” I mocked. I could see Daemon’s face scrunch up with anger at my claim, and I smirked, relishing in how he still had the same sore spots he did when we were children. Classic Daemon. 

Daemon felt fury bubble up in him, like a kettle dangerously close to boiling point. Seeing her smirk however, made him forgo his initial angry outburst and settle for a sharper, more hurtful one. “Bold words for someone who keeps rejecting marriage proposals. If there’s anyone who is a coward, I would say it’s you, my lady.” The vein in my neck was probably protruding to the high heavens by now. I longed to yell at him, like I always did back in my girlhood, but I couldn’t, because he was right. Yelling would only prove his point and allow him the pleasure of gloating. I was not about to rise up to his bait. Turning away from him, I walked out of the hall briskly. “It was a pleasure seeing you, your Grace, but I’m afraid I must be off. I hope we never have the misfortune to cross paths again.” 

My hand was on the brass door handle when I heard him call my name once more. “Y/N?” Rolling my eyes, I kept my back turned away from him. “Yes, your Grace?” 

“I was sorry to hear about Lady Primrose’s passing.” I stiffened at his unexpected condolences. I hadn’t thought about my mother in a very long time. “She was as much of a mother to me as she was to you” I tilted my head downward, closing my eyes for a brief moment. “It has been 7 years since she passed. There is no need to offer your condolences…but I appreciate it nonetheless.” 

Daemon heard the doors to the throne room slam shut. His eyes still cast on the door Y/N had just left from, he tilted his head slightly. A soft chuckle resonated through the throne room. ‘Same old Y/N’, he thought to himself, a smile curling at his lips, ‘but…different somehow.’ Oddly enough, he felt his heart twinge for some reason at her sudden departure. He had not realised how silent these past 8 years have been, not until today.

Queen Aemma was delighted with her daughter’s present, although a bit put out that her lady-in-waiting had arrived back at her chambers with no grapes in sight. But observing the mildly murderous glint in Y/N’s eyes, Aemma wisely kept her mouth shut. She wondered what had happened to make Y/N so annoyed, but then she let slip an amused chuckle as realisation dawned on her. 

Daemon.

translation: byka zaldrīzes: little dragon

And that’s the first chapter! If you loved it so far, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated :) Thank you for reading! Chapter 2 should be out in the next week or so! Let me know if you wished to be added to a taglist in the comments or through this form 

[creative-caramel-coffee]

The Addams Allergy

Pairings: Thornhill x Weems x Reader (platonic)

Word count: 1.7K

Summary: Reader's allergy is a thing of myth, and someone decides to do some myth-busting. This won't end well for anyone.

TW: allergies, anaphylaxis, needles, hospitals, ambulance, difficulty breathing, bullying, attempted manslaughter (fancy legal terms hehe), mentioned heart attacks, physical violence

A/n I have added a link at the end for very simple instructions for how to administer an epipen. Spend like three minutes reading it and save lives. Also please reblog the linked post to help other educate themselves as well.

You suppose it wasn’t too bad being an Addams. But then again you weren’t quite the same as your sister Wednesday. You were more of an interim between Pugsly and Wednesday. You were soft but not squishy, cold but not frigid. You were actually most likely the most seemingly normal of all the Addams’s.

But being Wednesdays twin, you shared many things, a womb (for all of nine tortuous months), black hair, pale skin and your most inconvenient shared trait, an allergy to colour. Luckily though you did not share a dorm. You were roomed with Yoko who was much more palatable than the ball of colour who was Wednesday's ‘roomie’ as the wolf-pup had put it.

Unfortunately, most people were sceptical bordering on disbelieving about the colour allergy. Taking it as another Addams lie. And you being the easier target of the two of you often copped the most teasing. Everyone knew not to mess with Wednesday, but you were slightly easier. You cared more.

Yoko and you were sat in the library studying at the tables down the back when a group of siren boys came in. They had been teasing you a lot as of late and Yoko knew about it, but you begged her to keep quiet, you didn’t want to attract any more attention than you already had.

The boys were quick to spot you down the back and grinned wolfishly beelining straight for you. You let out a soft groan and Yoko looked up.

“If they lay a hand on you, I’ll drain them dry.”

“It's fine Yoko. I’ve got this.”

“The same way you ‘had it’ when you got a black eye i had to help you hide for two weeks?” She asked with a deadset tone. You grumbled a response when you felt your chair being pulled back.

“Hey!” Yoko said, “leave her alone.” She started but one of the boys spoke with his siren song.

“Sit” he commanded, and Yoko found herself no longer in control of her muscles as she sat and watched helplessly.

“So, a birdie told me your allergic to colour?” The main boy said, he was light-skinned with deep rich blue eyes and blonde curls. He looked like the type to be a surfer with the tan he had.

“That would be correct.” You nodded trying to remain calm and mimic your sister's tone.

“Well, how about we check you still have this … so called ‘allergy���” he said in a mocking tone. Pulling something from his pocket, you tried and failed to stop your eyes widening.

Between his thumb and forefinger was probably the most colourful and bright piece of fabric you had ever seen.

Despite the allergy, you hadn’t given any of your friends and epipen for you yet and the only people who had one were the nurses and weems. So, in other words unless Yoko was fast at running because the headmistress's office wasn’t too far, you may be looking at the object that would kill you.

Drawing a shaky breath, you looked the boy in the eyes. “As much as i love attempted murder, this isn’t a good idea.” You said

“Huh? Really?” He mocked “You think your smarter than me, don’t you?” He sneered and you gulped.

“Obviously.” You muttered and the boy scowled. Before you could stop him, he pinned you to the floor and shoved the scrap of fabric in your mouth. Your eyes went wide, and you began to flail and kick wildly trying to get him off.

Yoko was screaming bloody murder which seemed appropriate on more than one front.

After a second the boy rolled off you and stood brushing off his uniform.

“See… lies.” He said as you rolled onto your stomach, propped up on your elbows and spitting out the wet cloth onto the floor.

“Gross.” The boy said.

“You moron, let me go i need to get her epipen.” Yoko screamed and the boy's face morphed into something else for a second.

“Wait is she … actually?” He asked starting to look a little scared.

“Yes, you tool what would she gain from a fake allergy. Now let me go.” Yoko screamed and the boy froze before bolting. Luckily as he grew further away Yoko felt his song fading. She stood running over to you. You were laid on your back gasping as the anaphylaxis began to set in.

“W-weems.” You rasped and then coughed, your throat feeling ridiculously tight. Yoko nodded.

“You’ll be ok Y/n/n. Im going to get weems.” She said and raced out the doors.

Yoko ran the fastest she probably ever had in her immortal life. In a matter of seconds, she was banging hand over fist on the wooden doors before she simply pushed the open wasting no time.

“Ms Tanaka-“ Weems began, she was sat on the couch with Ms Thornhill looking equally startled.

“No time… y/n … epipen…now.” Yoko said between gasps. In a second both teachers were on their feet. Weems hurried over to her desk throwing open the second draw and pulling out the epipen she kept there just for you.

“Where is she?” Weems said with a commanding and scarily calm voice.

“Library.” Yoko replied and the three of them ran to the room of books.

Yoko led the two teachers to the back of the room where you were still gasping. Luckily for them you were already on the floor which made this next part easier.

“Christ.” Weems said, “Marilyn, call an ambulance.” She commanded as she uncapped the giant needle.

The Botany teacher scrambled to find her phone pulling it out and punching in the numbers for the emergency services.

Weems mentally recited the rhyme from when she had to do this for Morticia as a student as she pulled off the blue safety cap.

‘Blue to the sky orange to the mid-outer thigh.’ She thought and in one swift motion she lined it up with your thigh, Yoko having helped her pull down your skirt. She quickly stabbed your outer-mid thigh listening for the click and then counting to three before gently removing it. She gingerly deposited the epipen on the table.

The two teachers sat either-side of you while Yoko sat next to Ms Thornhill on your left. Your breathing began to even out, becoming less and less raspy as the epinephrine began to take effect.

Ms Thornhill was still on the phone with the emergency services who had assured her they were on their way now.

Both teachers and the vampire sat and watched with bated breath as they realised your breathing had stabilised.

After about ten minutes you tried to sit up, but the headmistress placed a hand on your shoulder.

“No. Stay lying down the EMTs will be here soon darling. Then I’ll come with you to the hospital, and they’ll check you out alright?” She said and you nodded and laid back down.

“Can i come too? I need to tell you something.” Yoko said and Weems made a thinking face and then nodded.

“Yes. After all, I do need to know how this happened. The Addams family know their limits and are quite good at avoiding this so any insight you could provide would be helpful.” The principal said and Yoko nodded. After another few minutes of tense silence, the emergency services came in and the paramedics gently lifted you onto a clean white stretcher. You hated the idea but luckily weems made sure nobody saw as you were taken to the ambulance that sat by the nevermore gates. Yoko and Weems joined you in the ambulance and Ms Thornhill waved as you were driven off.

About an hour later you were being held for observation. It was another three hours before they would let you go. You were sat up in a hospital bed with Yoko and weems sat in plastic chairs beside you.

“This feels like one hell of a power imbalance.” You muttered and both of them laughed.

“Well, you did just cheat death.” Yoko teased and you nodded.

“As an Addams it's an expected weekly occurrence. Kind of like a grim ostentatious weekly period.” You grinned always finding ways to relate everything to blood. Yoko groaned dramatically and facepalmed.

“And as the principal of two Addams’s who weekly try and take me with them to then grave, I’d say I’m cheating death myself with the number of heart attacks you and your sister attempt to induce upon my poor heart.” Weems said sounding exasperated.

“It wasn’t y/n/n’s fault though!” Yoko exclaimed and weems raised a brow while you opted to look out the window and avoid eye contact.

“You never did explain how this happened.” Weems said gesturing with a sweeping motion to the bed you were still in.

“Well i guess now’s as good as any and i doubt Ms. I-cheat-death-daily is going to spill.” Yoko said before launching into an explanation starting a few weeks ago when the teasing began. It was safe to say the principal was outraged.

“I will not have students attempting to murder each other.” She huffed with pure unadulterated rage in her eyes burning with fire, rage and brimstone with the likeness of hell itself. The look would have scared Satan into being as straight as a nun.

In a matter of seconds, she drew a deep calming breath, and you were reminded of the saying, the calm before the storm. Then she opened her eyes again and excused herself, walking out into the hallway and pulling out her phone. Not even five minutes after Yoko’s story ended, she was on the phone in the school board arranging his immediate expulsion.

About a half hour later, Weems returned looking flustered but when her eyes settled on you, she deflated slightly and gave a tender smile in your direction. Her eyes locked with yours, scanning for any hints of pain.

She had also texted the anxious botanist who had agreed to come by once you were discharged to drive the odd team home. As well as ordering about a dozen epipens for all your close friends and her office.

Once Weems had decided you were defiantly not in pain, she walked over to your bedside and gently brushed the hair from your eyes.

“It's dealt with darling. Nobody will hurt you now.” She assured and you blushed slightly at the contact, leaning into her hand.

You were safe. Alive. Breathing normally. And safe … again.

Masterlist

How to give an epipen here

[onwacollective]

I realize all this info can be overwhelming, confusing, and time consuming to get through to create the real change needed to balance your hormones. So, I’ve created cycle syncing wallpaper habit reminders to support women and menstruating individuals in balancing their hormones HERE.

Womb Healing Masterpost

 Please share far and wide.

With the increase of hormonal imbalance as a result of the collective being fed constant cycles of stress through the media, I’ve felt called to organize info that’s been useful to me on healing the womb and healing hormonal imbalance. While menstruation pain has been normalized, it is not natural to regularly be in pain during your cycle. Consistently painful cycles are the body’s way of communicating that something is wrong and that the womb needs attention.  I’ve provided some tools below to help.

I’ve broken the info up into three categories: energetic, physical, and gut health. I’ve found it to be true that womb related issues are always energetic first. Fixing the physical issue without addressing the emotional/energetic wounding will cause the illness to manifest in the body in another way. The physical category focuses on how to address womb imbalance by making changes to diet and behavior. The gut health category is gut specific healing because many hormones are created in the gut or called into creation by the gut microbiome. If you have hormonal issues it’s likely you have gut health issues as well.

The most important element of healing your womb is discernment. Use your discernment when moving through this information. Some things will be helpful and relevant to you and some will not. Everyone’s body is unique. Honor that on your journey to healing.

**note: some of these resources advise restrictive dieting (example vegan, low/no carb or otherwise) to heal the womb. While using these diets to detox for a little while may be beneficial, I’ve personally found restrictive diets to be more damaging long term. I’ve found the most benefit from prometabolic eating or eating ancestrally.  With any dietary info provided in these resources, use your discernment and prioritize listening to your body’s unique needs.**

Energetic

VIDEOS

Caroline Myss: Why People Don’t Heal

The Truth About Uterine Fibroids In Melanin Dominant Women (Black Women) - Dr. Jewel Pookrum

5 Mindset Shifts That Have Completely Transformed My Health Journey

PODCASTS

S3E07. HOW TO GIVE YOUR BODY A “SOFTWARE UPDATE” - the art of updating your physical body on emotional breakthroughs for better lymphatic drainage, emotional release, and brain-body connection w/ Julie Tracy

BOOKS

You Look Like Something Blooming: A Memoir of Divination Seeds to Cultivate Your Feminine Garden Temple by India Ame’ye (you can also check out India’s tumblr HERE)

Sacred Woman: A Guide to Healing the Feminine Body, Mind, and Spirit by Queen Afua

Set Boundaries, Find Peace by Nedra Glover Tawwab

Physical

VIDEOS

HOW TO V STEAM AT HOME | DIY Yoni Steam

The Goddess Collection aka KrystalTheHealthAdvocate YouTube Channel

DIY Castor Oil Pack Tutorial | How to Castor Oil Pack for Fertility, Fibroids and Liver Health

BOOKS

In the FLO: Unlock Your Hormonal Advantage and Revolutionize Your Life by Alisa Vitti

Hormone Intelligence by Aviva Romm, MD

PODCASTS

S3E02. FROM WELLNESS EXTREMES TO A HEALTHY FOUNDATION - why getting back to basics, saying no to fads and fueling our bodies is the medicine women need with Nina Passero, FDN-P

S3E05. BEYOND BIRTH CONTROL - tracking your menstrual cycle, reproductive empowerment + ways to take control of your fertility and health with Lisa Hendrickson-Jack

S2E12. PCOS: WHY ARE SO MANY WOMEN SUFFERING? - a conversation about carbs, body temperature, metabolism, stress and phone addiction with Amanda Montalvo, RD, FDN-P

S2E2. WHY HORMONE IMBALANCE IS ON THE RISE - Dr. Aviva Romm shares tangible solutions for endo and PCOS

BLOGS/INSTAS/WEBSITES

What is Yoni Steaming?

Herbal Tea Nourishment - https://thealkalinegoddess.com

@thegoddescollection on insta

@JessicaAshWellness on insta

https://www.jessicaashwellness.com/

Gut Health

BOOKS

Gut and Psychology Syndrome: Natural Treatment for Autism, Dyspraxia, A.D.D., Dyslexia, A.D.H.D., Depression, Schizophrenia by Dr. Natasha Campbell-McBride

Glucose Revolution: The Life-Changing Power of Balancing Your Blood Sugar by Jessie Inchauspe

BLOGS/INSTAS/WEBSITES

@GlucoseGoddess on Instagram

@JessicaAshWellness on insta

How to make your own Saurkraut

How (and why) to do an Enema

PODCASTS

S2E13. THE LIVER GUT CONNECTION - Dr. Asia Muhammad on why fatty liver is exploding, leaky gut, and the root of most health concerns

APPS

Monash University FODMAP diet (for locating food sensitivities)

I’ll add to this list as I continue to find and remember resources that have been supportive. If we let it, womb healing can be a beautiful initiation into feminine power. Be gentle with yourself 💗

[kerubimcrepin]

Wakfu Manga - Tome 5, Part 1

Cute Joris.

Cynthia Leman's art is wonderful, however, I am going to miss Said Sassine's art greatly... It was a very iconic part of the manga.

"Joris has only one precept: justice" Yeah we noticed. And it's totally not paving him some sort of road to hell as we speak.

When I first read this manga I burst out laughing to the point of tears at the line "my womb is frozen" and I am still giggling to myself about it — though knowing it's coming up has long took away the sheer comical punch that it had back then.

I'm sorry, but this is so unserious.

Of course he'd be the one carrying all the Dofus...

Btw, no, this is not the death of my "during this entire manga Joris keeps his stupid battle-stump in his haven bag, which he actually has" theory. I don't think he'd like to have six dofus in his haven bag. Or anywhere near his belongings.

Creature.

Joris's many gentle hypocrisy moments is him going "well it would be very dangerous..." at the idea of battling Jiva, and then, a while later, going "fine, you are my little pogchamp, Yugo" at the idea of using them to save Tristepin.

It's in-character for many reasons, by the way. (AKA: ughh Yugo will be sad, ughhh Kerubim will be sad if kids are orphaned, ughh maybe Jiva won't kill the kids, ughh we could finally defeat Ogrest, uhghh—)

Very pretty Joris.

The idealogical debate of "nobody should have nukes" and "I, Yugo, should have nukes because I'm a good boy" has sadly been resolved, and not in Adamai's favor, as of season 4. Surely, the world will not suffer for it.

He should be scared and nervous more often.

With every passing year, every new thing revealed about Waven and the Great Wave manga, this exchange gets more and more funny.

Rare moment of Joris being genuine and emotionally truthful. Best not to get used to it, btw.

He is so well-drawn here... I really like it when his cheeks, cheekbones, or the face shape in general, is visible.

Joris looks so shocked, it's funny. Buddy, this happened to you like twice growing up. Kerubim literally also decided to keep you or something.

Real

😰👍

"tap tap tap"

">.<"

Bug.

The definition of insanity is making a little guy run again and again in an active warfare, and he gets exploded each time, but you keep telling him you'll hold the explosions back this time, every time.

DFKSADJGUIODSFGDJSOFGHSDOFUIGHDSFGHDSFKGHDSFKLJ

THIS MANGA IS WIN AFTER WIN AFTER WIN AFTER WIN FOR US, JORIS FANS!!!!!! Joris being hurt. You agree. Reblog.

His snork mimimi face after being beaten into unconsciousness is everything.

So pretty...

Man, in their eyes, he's actually cool and a badass, isn't he?

Real friends get K.O'd together

This is a very good illustration... I can't just crop it!

:(

And of course the thing Joris is most worried about is Dofus.

Though I guess logically, the kids aren't in any danger, which is why his priorities are so screwed up. Jiva has proven that she can keep a child alive for a year, and is merely mentally ill about adoption, so obviously, Joris is more worried about other things <3 (HE IS NOT NORMAL OR SANE FOR SAYING THIS!!!!)

[wellsbering]

Hello friends 🫂🇵🇸

I am Mariam from Gaza 🇵🇸🍉

Asking for help is never easy, but the bad circumstances have forced me to do so 😭💔

So I am asking you to help with a very small donation of $40 to $50 in order to save my children from the hell of war 💔😭

We live in a tent that does not protect from the heat of summer or the cold of winter, my children have lost their childhood, they suffer from diseases due to water pollution and air pollution 💔😭

My children suffer from a rash and I suffer from anemia and I cannot provide food for my third child whom I am carrying in my womb 💔😭

So please help me 🙏🫂

Any small donation from you saves the lives of my children 🫂🙏💔

Please help me 🙏🫂

I'm sorry you're going through this awful experience, Mariam. I cannot afford to donate to you now, but I promise I will contribute when I have money. In the meantime, I will share your fundraiser with others so they will donate!

Vetted by association

Please reblog & donate!!!

[atopvisenyashill]

🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️🇵🇷🐢🏝️ i got tired of complaining constantly on my main blog (@thewingedwolf is me!) about how sansa and rhaenyra did nothing wrong and also i needed a way to organize my theories and stuff. yes i have read all the books. yes i have (unfortunately) seen the whole show. yes i have seen all of hotd as well. so here we go. my stances are this, so you have an idea what to expect:

i am a catelyn, sansa, brienne, elia, lyanna and rhaenyra stan FIRST and a person SECOND

i would die for Gaemon Palehair, Lady Essie, and Sylvenna Sand, those are my canon OCs, and that’s why they’re my header.

maegor rhaena and aerea also could have saved westeros & jaehaerys should have been aborted in the womb.

Sansa and Bran are my favorites! I am a Sansa will be Queen in the North truther and a Bran will be the King in Harrenhal conspiracy theorist, It Is Heavily Foreshadowed In The Text and I stand on that!!

I'm well aware Rhaenyra has plenty of faults, I am saying that the greens (as in, the characters) do not like her because of her gender, and not for stuff she does that’s actually wrong, also, idc that she did all of that i simply think she’s fun.

Helaena really IS the one who did nothing wrong tho.

i am a Dark Daenerys believer. no, i don’t hate her - in fact, i really love her, although i do hate her show counterpart - I just think her arc is heading towards a dark path and being a villain protagonist is the more interesting route for her character.

House Martell will rise or I will piss in old man germ’s cornflakes.

I Will talk about the racism Dorne faces in the text and outside of it and neither your favorite house nor my favorite house is exempt from this. If you have a problem with that, keep it to yourself bc i do not care 🙏🏽

i multiship!! just bc i ship it doesn’t mean i think it’s gonna happen in the series, i just like the dynamic!!

i am in fact the annoying book jonsa truther they warned you about. i will Stay bitter about this. argue with the wall.

with that said, i also like theonsa, throbb, daemyra, laenyra, rhaewin, nedcat, braime, briensa, and a million other ones. faves listed here. several of them are dead dove-esque; what can i say, that's just george's style.

you decide whether it’s romantic or platonic when it’s an incest one, my opinion changes by the hour & im gonna fight grrm for making me think this much about incest.

i don’t like jonerys!!!!!! i'm sansan & sanrion ambivalent and i simply do not care about littlefucker like that. i would say i’ve thought positively about basically every other ship.

I JUST FINISHED A REREAD and i Have started a rewatch of the tv series as a form of torture.

i first read this series when i was 16 in like 2012-2013. i love to bitch about the takes i’ve seen. i sometimes reblog really old ass graphics bc they deserve new life even tho the creators are long since deactivated. i sometimes make graphics that look like they’re from 2014 bc we should bring that style back dammit i hate the typography movement going on rn.

big on tagging triggers so lmk (i’ll tag for all characters & major triggers but i’m fine with adding a specific one if asked and don't worry about it being a "weird" trigger - if sean bean's face or knives or wolves or whatever trigger you, i'm happy to tag for that!). my spoiler policy is that i’ll tag everything from this season as “hotd spoilers” and any of the Big Events with “episode title spoilers” but i can’t guarantee I can be consistent longer than like 2 days though i will try!! i Will be talking about any book canon events tho, the books have been out for years either you know how to avoid them or you know everything, i’m not tagging that.

i have a tag page that is more organized than the slapdash nonsense on this post, feel free to check it out here.

i may sound angry but i promise i am genuinely just here for a laugh. i just have resting bitch voice and no feel for tone and use the word fuck too much. it’s fine and unserious.

[eruanna1875]

New Pinned Welcome!

Hey there, folks! This is Eruanna, and welcome to my blog! My activity on here is... sporadic, to say the least (meaning I'll forget about it for weeks, then have a burst of posts I saved in my drafts for ages, lol). However, you're welcome to look around anyway!

I'm also a creative type (in... several areas, probably too many, whoops), so here's a bit of a guide to what I do:

I write! You can find me on AO3, or here on my blog (#my writing, #my fanfiction, and #my stories are all available to search through my tags, but #salt and light will probably include everything). I also talk about my stories a good bit, just sort of rambling, so you'll probably find that there too.

I draw! Pretty sure it's #my art and #notebook sketch for tags (and #salt and light). It's a mix of exactly two things: fanart and random stuff I sketched up for my own stories.

I even make music! There's not much out there yet, but I have a few demos floating around. They're in the #my music tag.

Obviously, I reblog things, because this is the reblogging site XD Sometimes I make lengthy comments, and sometimes I just add a quick react and some tags, but yeah. I reblog stuff.

I also have (a million) sideblogs, so maybe check those out? @long-live-the-gobop is my technically main blog, because I made it first, but it's specifically an AIO fan blog. I also have @saved-for-me-own-stories (other stuff related to my writing), @marching-tall-through-it-all (Tangled/TTS stuff), @the-gifts-he-has-given-me (art stuff, mostly tips but a few art posts as well), @new-tag-oc (reblogging from the deactivated ones), @tpc-tangled-au (my Tangled AU featuring all my characters), and @less-lost-than-you-realize (my OTGW sideblog).

Yeah. And that's not even a third of them.

Well, I suppose that about sums it up for types of content! Oh, and just a reminder, you'll also see quite a bit of the tag #salt and light on here, because I'm both very much a Christian and very much a creator of content that flows from that.

And, because I'm a Christian, I decided it would be best to tell you where I stand from the Bible itself, so it's clear that this doesn't come from me alone but from God:

"For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved. He that believeth on him is not condemned: but he that believeth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God. And this is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil." ~ John 3:16-19 (KJV) and "Neither is there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved." ~ Acts 4:12 (KJV) (that one pretty much speaks for itself)

"...That at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth, And that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." ~ Philippians 2:10-11 (KJV) (a key word, every) "For You formed my inward parts; You covered me in my mother’s womb. I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Marvelous are Your works, And that my soul knows very well." ~ Psalm 139:13-14 (NKJV) and "I was cast upon You from birth. From my mother’s womb You have been my God." ~ Psalm 22:10 (NKJV) (a key phrase, from my mother's womb) "But from the beginning of the creation God made them male and female. For this cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and cleave to his wife; And they twain shall be one flesh: so then they are no more twain, but one flesh. What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder." ~ Mark 10:6-9 (KJV) (some key phrases, man and woman, and man and wife)

Obviously, all the words and phrases are key, because it's the Word of God, but this is just to emphasize, so it's clear what my beliefs are.

I'm rooted in what God tells us, about Himself and the world He made. Thus - regardless of what the world says God is or what the world says people are (or aren't) - I'm not going to move. This is where I stand.

As I said in my previous pinned, I'm not here to cause trouble. I'm not an argumentative person by nature, and I'm not going to try and provoke things or send people hate asks or anything. Even if they think I'm a psycho for believing the things I believe.

If that's you, just know I'll be praying for you.

And, regardless of whether you agree with me or not, I hope you find something to enjoy on this here blog o' mine! I'm just here to spread a little salt on the stories we devour and light on the shadows of this world. :)

[some-pers0n]

I can't think of anything for the assuming thing that you reblogged, but while I'm here uhhm. I'd like to hear abt tf2 if you're willing to explain.

I don't know a lot abt it but I see the stuff you reblog!! I know the game, but I've never heard any lore or anything abt the characters.

No pressure ofc, you don't have to :]

You're. asking me..to infodump? About TF2!?

Okie okey I can do it. Uh. Keep in mind it's going to be pretty long-winded and incomprehensible. I just really like this game...

Oh! And if you're a follower or mutual, read on as well! I put a lot of effort into this. If you're at all interested in understanding my madness even a little bit, this is for you.

Before we even begin, I HIGHLY recommend first checking out the Meet the Team videos and perhaps Expatriation Date. It will take you roughly half an hour to watch all videos. They are simply fantastic. They are humorous and show off the personalities of these characters in a great and short way. Plus it establishes the tone of this game (which is very silly)

With that being said, let it commence.

Okay, so, I guess we start with the basics. Team Fortress 2 is a sequel to Team Fortress (Classic), which was a mod for a game called Quake using the engine for Half-Life, Source. It was made by a couple of friends who would later on become a part of Valve, a game company known for their own games such as Portal, Half-Life (as previously mentioned), Counter-Strike; Global Offense, and of course, Team Fortress.

Team Fortress 2's development is pretty interesting and cool in of itself. I could go on for a bit, but just know that TF2 was announced back in 1998. Over this time, it went by the name of Invasion, following an art style similar to TFC and Half-Life with them now being on some alien planet thing. However that sort of style became outdated, so they then went under a major art style shift. After nine years in development, they final released it in 2007 as a package called the Orange Box. It released alongside Portal and Half-Life 2, Episode 2.

Since then, Team Fortress 2, or simply just TF2, has become a cornerstone of the internet and general team-based shooter games. Its influences can be seen all over, with the most prominent example being games like Overwatch being a spiritual successor to it.

You don't want to hear me ramble about the actual gameplay and such though, I assume. I really like watching people play the game, but I would be lying if I didn't find a smidge more enjoyment from the characters, hm? I mean, how could I not? They're one of, if not the best parts of the entire game.

But before we get to that, even more ground work. Here's the basic lore you need.

In the 1800s, a man called Zephaniah Mann owns a company. He's your generic richy-rich upperclassman guy. His business partner, Barnabus Hale, co-owns this. This will be slightly important later. He has three children, Redmond, Blutarch, and Gray Mann. Redmond and Blutarch practically come out of the womb hating each other, while Gray Mann? Well, he's. special. He's incredibly intelligent for his newborn nature, being able to speak fluent English as well as supposedly inventing a new kind of algebra.

Zephaniah Mann freaks out. He tries to kill the child, however he is, and I quote, "absconded by the Eagle". This is a random eagle that's been apparently terrorizing the small town that Zephaniah Mann lives in. It breaks through the windows and literally steals Gray Mann, saving him from an untimely death.

So that happened.

Years later, Zephaniah grows old. Blutarch and Redmond are the only real heirs of his company, but the both of them won't come to a single agreement on anything. Pissed off about it, Zephaniah writes in his will that he's giving his company to Barnabus Hale, leaving his servant, Elizabeth, with all of his "gold", and jack-shit for Redmond and Blutarch.

Well...not nothing. Redmond and Blutarch convinced Zephaniah to buy up a bunch of land in New Mexico. Gravel pits and dustbowls. When Zephaniah died, the two of them tried claiming the land for themselves. This sparked the main event: the Gravel Wars.

Blutarch and Redmond hired a bunch of mercenaries to fight for each other. This was the original team. Yes, that is Abraham Lincoln you see there. Get used to it.

The mercenaries fought and fought, yet there was no clear victor. In the end, Blutarch and Redmond were growing old. By 1890s, it was becoming obvious that the two would die before they saw the end of this fight.

Or...until a certain other party emerged. Radigan Conagher. A brilliant inventor that catches the attention of Blutarch Mann. He brings Radigan to him and asks something so simple of him.

Build him a machine to make him immortal.

Radigan agrees to the task.

However, this also gets the attention of another person. Remember that servant I mentioned? The one who inherited Zephaniah Mann's gold? Well, it turns out that it isn't gold, but actually an incredibly powerful material called Australium.

Australium is native to Australia. It is a precious mineral that is capable of incredible power. Among giving the people around it super-strength, heightened intelligence, and generally being very Australian, it can also be used to make a person immortal through extending their life.

Elizabeth knows about this, and for some reason that we still don't quite know, she wants to continue on this war. So, she approaches Radigan and asks him to build another life extender machine for Redmond. Also for her probably.

So now the old men (and also this chick) are immortal. Cool!!

The 1930s roll around and there's another group of mercenaries. We don't care about these ones that much. Just know that they are the same mercs from Team Fortress Classic and they'll be somewhat important later. Understand also that Barnabus Hale's company is now called MannCo. and is the main supplier of weapons to this war.

NOW IT'S THE 1960S YAYYY IT'S TIME FOR THEM!!! THE SILLIES!!

Something to also know is that there's somebody pulling the strings. The Administrator. For some reason, she wants to continue this war between Redmond and Blutarch. She's not Elizabeth though!! Definitely not. Totally not. Definitely not a plot twist that WOULD'VE HAPPENED IN THE FINAL COMIC HAD IT RELEASED- but it's fine.

Anyways, I digress. Elizabeth and the Administrator (also known as Helen) are pretty much the same person. Working as her assistant is Miss Pauling, who (among other things) hides bodies, gives contracts to the mercs, and generally does whatever the Admin wants her to.

Whew!! There you go. That's the general gist of the lore. Back in the 1800s there was a guy who had two kids who hated each other. They hated each other so much they went to war over a bunch of useless land. Over 100 years later now we've got the mercs.

Finally!! We can start talking about them.

Scout, aka Jerma985

The Scout, real name Jeremy, is a loud-mouth, obnoxious 20 something year old from Boston. He fights using a shotgun, baseball bat, and a pistol. He's got 7 older brothers (he's the youngest of them all) and has an affinity for baseball, Tom Jones, and a soda drink named Bonk! that is apparently radioactive. He's what I'd argue to be the most ""normal"" merc, since he's just kind of an asshole who likes killing people. He talks and acts like an obnoxious guy, but he's overall not that bad.

Oh I forgot to mention he's canonically God's gift to women.

Here's a snipbit of the scene where Scout dies and goes to Heaven where he meets God Himself and tells Scout that he was intended to have sex with as many women as possible.

Scout is also illiterate and can't read. He's actually a pretty good artist though. He's got a Tom Jones memorabilia collection that he once used to try and impress Miss Pauling. Oh right! He's also got a massive crush on Miss Pauling. The Expiration Date short is all about it, with him trying to get a date with her before he dies of cancer.

Soldier, the American Idiot

The Soldier, real name Jane Doe, is a red-blooded American patriot from somewhere in the mid-west USA. He fights using a rocket launcher, a shotgun, and a shovel. He is not a real solider. In fact, he was turned away from WWII because of his mental instability. That didn't stop him from buying a ticket and going to Germany himself, beating the crap out of all of them Nazis. He only stopped when he was told that the current year was 1949 and the war had ended four years ago.

Soldier is what I'd argue to be the character the narrative focuses on the most. You'd be pressed to find a comic that doesn't feature him a lot. He's the second half of the WAR! update, the first merc that Miss Pauling recruits when the actual main comics happen, generally pops up a lot in bits and pieces of the lore, and is one of the stars of Expiration Date.

Soldier was roommates with a 6,000 year old wizard named Meramus. Meramus is a character from TF2's annual Halloween event, Scream Fortress, and is a silly wizard who attacks them once every year. Despite this, the two of them lived together. Past tense because Meramus was kicked out. Here's a panel from a comic about this that I find funny.

Soldier also drinks lead water. The water in the base is the same water that the people from a nearby town, Teufort, which is all full of idiots from the water situation. We don't know if he's like this because of the water. It's probably not the only reason.

Pyro, the Silly!!

The Pyro has no identity, no backstory, nothing. Anything we know about them is pretty much nothing. They, along with the Spy, are the most unknown of the mercs, but even then we still know more about Spy and generally what he's like. Pyro? Nothing. We don't even know their gender.

Pyro fights with a flamethrower, shotgun, and fire axe, however they see these items as a cute and wholesome version. In Meet the Pyro, it's revealed that Pyro sees the world through a oddly sweet lens, full of lolipops and rainbows and whatever. This isn't reality, obviously, and what Pyro sees as them petting a dog is probably them gutting it.

Pyro and the Engineer have some sort of bond and connection, most likely stemming from how Pyro's in-game help out Engineers by keeping away spies and whatnot, as flamethrowers are the best ways to get rid of them.

Anywho, that's Pyro. The silly!!

Demoman, Man I Love Being Drunk

The Demoman, real name Travis Finnegan DeGroot, is a self-proclaimed "black Scottish cyclops". He fights with a stickybomb launcher, a grenade launcher, and a bottle of his beloved whiskey: scrumpy. Demoman is a full-blooded Scotsman hailing from Ullapool and has a long, long lineage of fellow bombmakers and general stuff.

Demoman is actually one of the more intelligent members of the team, being knowledgeable of chemicals and bomb making. This is however not exactly known as 90% of the time he's black-out drunk. He gets drunk so often that his liver actually changed to adapt to this sort of environment, now drawing minerals from booze as if it were water. Now Demo basically gets poisoned by drinking water.

Demo's eye is actually cursed, by the way. No, he didn't lose it during some fight or some accident. Well, I mean, it technically was an accident. He opened up a cursed book, the Bombinomicon, and now his eye is just. fucked.

In fact, the Medic tried giving him a new eye. Several times in fact! Why doesn't he have it still? Well, uh, this.

He's so silly.

Heavy, The TF2 Guy

The Heavy Weapons Guy, real name Mikhail (or Misha), is a Russian man hailing from Siberia. He fights with his miniguns, a shotgun, and his fists. He's rather fond of his guns, in particular his main one, Sasha.

Heavy is a family man and generally a lot different than how a ton of the internet characterizes him. He's intelligent, having a PhD in Russian Literature, and a lot more soft-spoken. When he was young, his father, a counter revolutionist, was taken by the KGB. Soon enough, his entire family were imprisoned in a gulag. They escaped and found refuge, but Heavy became protective over his sisters and mother.

TF2 goes hard, like if you agree. Every time I think about Heavy I just get increasingly sad.

Heavy likes sandwiches. A lot. In fact, you can swap out his shotgun in the game for a sandwich (or some other food item). Apparently in TF2 canon, Heavy just hunkers down in some corner after taking a good amount of damage and starts eating this ham sandwich to suddenly have his bullet wounds be healed.

Engineer, YEEEEHAWWW!!!

The Engineer, real name Dell Conagher, is a hardworking man who's come round from Bee Cave, Texas. He fights using a shotgun, a pistol, his trusty wrench, and a little tiny box called the PDA. That lil' box gives the Engineer a major advantage, being able to now make buildings. Dispensers that give ammo and medkits. Teleporters that make traversing the maps easier. Lets not forget the sentries now either, stationary automatic guns that fire upon any enemy that gets too close.

If the name "Conagher" seems familiar, that would be because Engie is the grandson of Radigan Conagher from all the way back. Also Fred Conagher, who was the Engineer for TFC. Here's the both of them when Engie was a kid.

Engie is commonly mischaracterized as being normal. This is because he seems smart and okay. He is not. I need you to understand that his Meet the Team video has him using a BLU Sniper's body as his campfire and he shows little to no reaction to bullets being mere inches away from his face. He just sits there and plays his guitar while his sentry guns mow down anybody nearby. Also the whole being a mercenary and his job being to kill people.

Unfortunately for Engie there's not too much Funny comic book stuff about him. His big break was mostly with the Loose Cannon comic. In other ones he's usually a supplemental character to the others. In the main comics he's the sort of caregiver to the Administrator, just sort of standing around her while she says stuff.

That doesn't make me any less terminally ill about him in this one comic though. They make me SICK!! I love them,,

And, well, speaking of these two...I suppose it was only a matter of time before we got to him.

Medic, You Already Know Who This Is

The Medic, real name maybe Ludwig Humbolt? I dunno. It's unclear. All that's really confirmed is that his last name is probably most likely Ludwig. Some people like Ludwig Humbolt. Others like Fritz Ludwig. I like calling him Ludwig Ludwig.

Anyways, this is Medic! He hails from Stuttgart/Rottenburg, Germany (it's not very clear where he's from) and he is a bit of a silly little fellow. He fights using his trusty bonesaw, a syringe gun of sorts, and a unique device of his own creation: the medi-gun. With this machine, he's able to heal people as well as deploy an übercharge, which makes both the Medic and whomever his medi-gun's healing beam is connected with invincible for eight seconds.

The Medic is a silly little fellow. One fascinating thing you can see about him is how his character has been shifted since the launch of the game. His voice lines in-game are a lot more...er, how should I say this...Nazi German stereotype-ish? Hehh, uh... So not particularly great. He's barking orders and generally seen kind of like that.

However, as time goes on and more and more updates come out, his character shifts. The Pyro goes under similar changes in presentation, going from a mysterious and scary character to more friendly and cutesy. With Medic? He forgos that previous stereotype and more or less just becomes a mad scientist archetype. He's got a silliness to him that wasn't present when the game first launched.

My favourite example of this shift in character is the change in how the Meet the Medic videos would've been. Did you know there was a scrapped Meet the Medic video? It was a lot more like the earlier ones, styled like an interview he was giving. He's doing it on a train(?) and it shows how he created the medi-gun. There's a noticeable lack of silliness, aside from when the Spy head begins talking. The Medic is a lot more stern and serious, mentioning more how he's proud of being able to make gods out of men.

Then, of course, we see the actual Meet the Medic. Medic is preforming surgery on the Heavy, and it's all fairly silly and wacky. Medic explodes Heavy's heart, his birds are just straight up inside Heavy's organs, he basically tells the Spy head (which is actually a reference to the OG Meet the Medic video) to shut up, and laughs away like what he's doing is no big deal. He's got a manic twitch to him. He's a brilliant scientist, though a mad one at that.

I have a lot to say about Medic if you can't already tell. He's my silly!! He's the guy giving me all of this brainrot over this game. I just go into detail about his characterization because it's a major pet peeve of mine when people label him as a uncaring sadist who hates his team and wants to experiment on them all. He IS an uncaring sadist, but he's sill and I will go down swinging on this hill that he, at the bare minimum, cares about his team. I rationalize his in-game voice lines by saying it's from him a) dying a lot and getting pissed off at how his teammates just let it happen and b) he's having a manic episode every day at work and has zero filter. All of them have zero filter when battling. If they all acted the way they did in the game, then characters like Scout should be GO GO GO GO!!!! 24/7 without rest, something that's certainly not the case in Expiration Date. On a similar note, let's not forget that Medic and Engie decided to spend their last few days trying to develop some kind of cure for their tumors.

Anyways, deranged EngieMedic fangirling aside (these two make me violently ill and they are the only characters I could even dare to say I "ship")(even then it's as a QPR because I'm diseased and hit Medic with my aroace-ification ray)(you cannot convince me that this man in alloro in any way shape or form he does not even know what an emotion besides mania and blistering rage is), Medic is a fascinating character who I feel not too many people really get. He's either written as a pencil-pushing busy-body vaguely Nazi stereotype or as a soft uwu twink cinnamon roll who wants to help his team and only has a small sadistic streak and only wants to be railed by Heavy. You guys don't get it. He's silly :)

Oh, yeah, right, Heavy. Heavy and Medic definitely do have a connection established. I left it out in Heavy's section, mostly because I want to give focus onto Heavy as a character and leave Medic out of it. Heavy already gets piss pour treatment by the fandom, where he's just reduced to "the other guy" in every ship. He doesn't deserve that...

But, yeah, Medic and Heavy certainly is kinda pushed. Medic and Heavy duos in the game aren't that uncommon, as Heavy is a good tank and Medic can hide behind him, leading to Heavy more or less becoming a stream of bullets to mow down anybody nearby. In Meet the Medic, Medic experiments on Heavy's heart and the big climactic end has him activating the übercharge on Heavy. In the comics themselves, Classic Heavy, the inverse of our normal Heavy, is antagonistic and extremely rude towards Medic. The complete and utter opposite of what Heavy and Medic had back in the day. Then finally he shows up when Medic is literally About To Die.

Blah blah blah, there's a lot of stuff relating back to Heavy and Medic at the VERY LEAST having some sort of ties and liking to each other. That's the reason why there's like 1100+ fics on Ao3 tagged with them.

Medic is a silly goober as previously mentioned. As shown in the Engineer section, he experiments on random civilians. I like to imagine that he doesn't particularly do random fucked up experiments on the RED team, but rather he more or less does everything on civilians. He enjoys putting somebody through pain and suffering, but he wants it to mean something. He doesn't want to just mess with people. He tests out the bounds of which a person can go to, which he does on random people he plucks off the street because there's replaceable to him. His teammates? Not so much.

Oh, and also the Classic Team. He doesn't care about these people. They suck! They aren't his friends. So he just does. this sort of stuff.

He's a bit special. Love him dearly for it.

Sniper, Aww Piss

The Sniper, real name Mick Mundy (real birth name being Mun-Dee), is an young Aussie from the outback. Yes. Young. This man is roughly 30 in 1972 (when the comics take place). Can't you tell by how stereotypically young he looks? Sniper fights using a sniper rifle (duh), an SMG (or other items), and a kukri (big knife).

He's one of the most level-headed of the mercs. Not sane, but rather a man who sticks to being professional and a set of rules. Despite this more refined sense of mercenary work, his parents don't exactly support him being a crazed gunman. Also his parents aren't his biological ones.

That's right, Sniper is adopted. Why do we care? Because he's not Australian, but rather from New Zealand. New Zealand is at the bottom of the ocean, by the way. In 1932 they sunk their entire country because Bill-Bel, Sniper's dad, convinced everyone that the world was going to become an uninhabitable wasteland if they didn't otherwise do this. Ten years later, and when little baby Mun-Dee was born, Bill-Bel and his wife began working on a rocket to escape to space because now they were convinced that earth was going to explode or something. They only built the rocket big enough for one person though, so they fought over who would survive. While fighting, Mun-Dee crawled into it, was shot up into the sky, and then crash landed immediately onto Australia.

So Sniper is Superman.

Also, remember how I said that Sniper sticks to rules and such? Yeah, apparently being a professional also means throwing jars of piss at people. Jarate, a form of jar-based karate invented by Saxton Hale, owner of MannCo.

Sniper's just like that.

Spy, Fr*ch

The Spy, real name unknown, is the second most mysterious character. He's from France (no idea where particularly) and he's just kinda. yeah. There. He fights using his butterfly knife, which he can instantly kill anybody he backstabs, a revolver, and a sapper so he can destroy the Engineer's buildings. Also, an invisibility watch, where he's able to cloak himself and become invisible, and the ability to disguise himself as the enemy team.

The Spy is a richy-rich upperclassman. He likes the finer things in life. Smoking, wine, expensive suits, all that. He's a lot more refined and generally snobbish than the other mercs. However, I don't think of him as exactly mean or rude. Definitely stuck-up, but he cares about his teammates. In Expiration Date, he takes the time to ask everyone what their final wish is. When that's a bust, he then happily spends time with Scout and teaching him how to get ladies.

Ah, yes, right. Scout and Spy. Spy is actually the Scout's father. It's a theory that has been around since the release of Meet the Spy, with the RED Spy being in pornography staring Scout's mother. It's been tossed around and hinted at, with their dynamic and Expiration Date as well as a couple references to Spy and DNA tests. Then, in The Naked and the Dead comic, it's pretty much outright confirmed. While Scout is bleeding out and on the verge of death, Spy takes a moment to finally give Scout some peace.

...while disguised as Tom Jones, of course.

I could go on and on about this scene and how I feel about Spy's characterization and his dynamic with Scout, but blah blah blah...yeah. Spy TF2.

Annnddd that's it for now! Basic summary of it all. The characters, the lore, all of it. I've reached the image limit and have been sort of dancing around it for a while now. Hope this was informative. Toodles!!