#i should go to bed. ive been consumed by the horrors since i got home from work and thats uaually a sign i need to sleep

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

on god got struck witha thought

[delaneytveit]

Satellites Part 2

hey guys, so here is the continuation I wrote for my Lance fic. Poor boy goes through so much during his birthday month. I also posted up to part 3 on AO3, including a chapter not on here that shows how Lance got captured in the first place. So if you want to find that out, though its not really necessary to the story, go check it out!

ALSO please read the tags for tw there are a few in this part

The team stood in shocked silence. No one daring to move, nor speak. The transmission had cut out almost as soon as Lance had finally given in and answered the interrogator. Now all that remained was a black screen.

It was Shiro who had finally broken the silence, a single word leaving his lips. The sound enough to break even the strongest hearts. “Lance.”

It seemed the sound had struck something in Keith, as without a word, he stormed out of the room. Shiro knew without a doubt his brother was going straight to the training room, prepared to decimate as many training bots as possible.

It had been three quintants since the team had received the transmission. Three quintants in which not a single team member slept, nor did they want to. The sight of Lance being forced to endure such horror, the sound of his screams, haunted all of them. How could any of them rest when their blue paladin was being subjected to far worse than they had ever imagined.

What haunted Hunk the most though, wasn’t the screams, or the seizing body of his best friend. But his eyes. Those soft, ocean blue eyes that were built for comfort and warmth, that held a lightness to them in a way that only Lance could possess. Those weren’t the eyes that Hunk had seen in the video. The blue was cold as ice, a darkness that threatened to consume you any moment. He knew from those eyes that what they were seeing was only the tip of the iceberg to what Lance was being subjected to.

Getting Lance would be a battle, but bringing him back to who he was before being a captive would be damn near impossible.

+++

Lance woke up back in his cell. His body on fire as it reminded him of the events that had played out earlier. He attempted to push himself up, at least to a sitting position, but his arms refused. It wasn’t like he would have been able to remain vertical anyways, the spinning in his head simply laying down was enough to have him retching again. No doubt he had a concussion...again.

God what he wouldn’t give for a few painkillers and a glass of water. When was the last time he had water? He couldn’t remember. Probably before he had even left the castle. He didn’t know how long it had been since then, it felt like years since he’d last been in the cold comfort of the castleship. In his own bed, wrapped in his blankets with his head laid gently on a soft satin pillow.

It felt like a lifetime ago, though he knew logically it couldn’t have been more than a few days. His friends would never leave him for longer, right? They had to be finding a way to get him, planning and calculating the risks. Trying to find a way to bring him back.

As much as he wanted to believe that they would though, there was still that much too loud voice in his head. The one telling him that they probably didn’t even notice that he was gone. That they probably liked the fact that there was no one to constantly annoy them.

It would probably be easier for them to just find a whole new paladin. Why not? There was bound to be someone out there who could take over. Someone who was a better pilot, a better shot, a better fighter. Someone deserving of actually being a paladin.

Someone who wasn’t him.

Before he could reprimand himself for even possessing such a thought, a sharp pain spread through his entire body, starting at his stomach. He grounded loudly into the floor as he attempted to bring his arms up to wrap them around himself to no avail. All he could do was lay there motionless and in pain. Waiting and praying to black out again.

When he next woke up, he was no longer in a cell. Instead strapped to a table. An IV had been inserted into his arm. He followed the tube with hesitant eyes before they caught sight of the murky grey colour of whatever was being dripped into his bloodstream.

Whatever it was, he didn’t have a good feeling about it.

He was feeling even more vertigo that before when he first woke up in the cell, and his breaths were coming out too slow for his liking. He looked around the room, knowing it was probably the same room he had been brought into earlier when the druids attempted to pry information out of him. They received nothing, though not for lack of trying. He shivered at the memory, still much too vivid in his mind.

What he didn’t remember was the colours of the room. Did they always swim like that? Move like a kaleidoscope? He was sure they didn’t and staring in one place for too long threatened to upset his painfully empty stomach.

Nothing about his existence in that room was painless. It seemed every nerve ending in his body was alight with it, and it caused his body to shake tremendously despite the confinements.

He laid there for what felt like hours before the door finally opened, a druid emerging in their customary purple robes. But the purple didn’t look like the one he knew, instead it was more vibrant, neon maybe? And patterned with such awkward colours that it made his head swim again. No, that wasn’t right. The druids wore plain purple, right?

He chalked up his hallucination to an effect of whatever was in that IV.

He heard the druid speak, but the words refused to register. A mix of sounds and grunts that he knew wasn’t right, but his brain refused to decode. He was lost in thought, trying to discern exactly what the druid had said when he felt such an excruciating pain that he was sure he would pass out any second.

Looking over at his outstretched arm, he could see his hand impaled by something, a knife? No, it was green and gold and pink and bended in such a weird way. He watched with wide eyes as the druid withdrew the object completely, only to plunge it back in. He screamed, but it didn’t sound like a scream. It didn’t sound like anything. He knew he screamed, his throat was on fire with the exertion of it, but the sound didn’t reach his ears.

Yup, that was definitely a knife, and the IV was pumping him full of some kind of hallucinogenic drugs.

He probably should have guessed that. He was no stranger to such, he had been known to go to a rave every once in a while. But holy crap is this what a bad trip is? No wonder people completely fucking lost it.

He watched as the druid studied his hand, the knife still fully sheathed inside of it. He knew without  a doubt that the knife was pinning his hand to the table. His mind was racing, and his eyes followed them.

He was going to die here.

They were going to tear him apart.

He was never supposed to be a paladin, he should have stayed on Earth.

What would happen once they got tired of tormenting him? Would they kill him? Would they throw him into the arena and hope some blood thirsty monster would finish the job? Would they dissect him like he was a lab rat? Would they experiment on him? Would they replace all of his limbs with metal prosthetics? Would they take out organs? Sell them? His eyes? His liver? His hands?

He was spiraling, he knew that but he couldn’t stop.

Would his friends rescue him? Would they hate him for getting captured? Think he’s incompetent for being unable to comlete such a simple mission? Allura would chastise him for sure? Would she kick him out? Force him to find his own way home? How would they look at him if they found him? With pity? With disgust? With hatred? They hated him, they had too.

He was the paladin they needed the least. The most useless. The one that they had to go out of their way to save. He shouldn’t even have been there. Maybe killing him would be a mercy? Too good of a mercy maybe? Did he even deserve that much?

He almost didn’t feel the next knife, the one that now impaled his left hand. Almost. He let out an involuntary scream, the pain the only thing that broke him from his spiralling mind. He prayed to black out, to let this be over just for a moment.

The druid walked to where his head lay, placing a long skeleton like finger over his lips, clearly an attempt to silence him. Was he talking? He had no idea. He looked up at the mask covered face that hung before him, eyes wide with a terror he knew he wouldn’t be able to hide. He watched as they brought both hands to his head, felt the spider like things touch his temples, causing him to flinch away, but with no where to go they remained. They were gentle, soft, their motions more relaxing than they should be. Were they massaging him? No that wasn’t right.

He didn’t have time to finish that thought, as his entire body seized in the most excruciating pain he had ever felt. His entire body arched up off of the table as the druid held his head down. He wasn’t sure if it had stopped, or if he simply blacked out, but the sight of the druid standing above him, pushing his head further into the metal table, and the intense pain that came from their fingers was the last thing he remembered.

[drsilverfish]

The Riddle of the Sphinx: 14x12 Prophet and Loss

First, thanks to @verobatto-angelxhunter  @gneisscastiel @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks  @mrsaquaman187  for inviting me to guest this week, as part of their ongoing SPN #Metafest project @metafest  

along with several other guests:  @bluephoenixrises  @poorreputation @agusvedder @amwritingmeta   @savannadarkbaby @prairiedust  and

@norahastuff 

I’m going to guest meta about the Riddle of the Sphinx.

Here is creepy Tony Alvarez drowning his first victim. 

Despite an opening dose of Bucklemming torture-porn (ugh - although tbf there was a narrative point, as the drowned girl was a mirror for Dean, just like the slain first-born son and the dude who almost got barbecued were - more on that later...)... So, yeah, despite that, I was thrilled to see this in the visual narrative architecture - the Sphinx Machine Shop, where Tony does his mangled prophecy induced killing.

The Sphinx, as you know, is a fearsome part-woman, part winged-lion beastie, in Greek mythology, who was famous for guarding the entrance to Thebes and asking travellers to solve the answer to a riddle in order to gain safe passage to the city. If they failed, she devoured them.

She is tied in mythology not just to puzzles and their solutions, but to fate...

Here is the Sphynx of Naxos, from the Temple of Apollo at Delphi (560 BCE)

Image from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sphinx_of_Naxos 

The Temple of Delphi was the site of the Oracle of Delphi, who was the High Priestess Pythia (a transferrable role) famous for her prophesies, which came to her in trance-states, supposedly from the God Apollo.

You see the link to SPN’s own Prophet role here.... 

The Sphinx also, famously, appears in Sophocles’ play Oedipus Rex, which became the basis for Freud’s also famous (and relevant a bit later) “Oedipus complex”. Sophocles didn’t invent the myth, but his telling is its most famous rendition. 

Despite his other misfortunes, Oedipus doesn’t get devoured by the Sphinx, because he solves her riddle, a popular rendition of which is: 

“What goes on four legs, on two legs, on three, and the more legs it goes on, the weaker it be?” 

The answer, is - a human (baby, adult, old person with a stick).

Oedipus’ story is a classic story about fate, just like Appointment in Samara (re-worked in an SPN episode, 6x11, but originally an old Mesopotamian tale) which @mittensmorgul  and I were talking about just recently, in relation to themes of fate vs free will in SPN (specifically in relation to the role played by Death - see here for the discussion:

http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/182454009599/mittensmorgul-drsilverfish-mittensmorgul  )

Oedipus’ story is a (f-d up) family drama - rather relevant to our very own Family Winchester [no, NOT because this is all about either of the boys wanting to sleep with Mary Winchester - thanks Dr. Freud - although, come to think of it, Dean did say she was hot in 4x03 In The Beginning :-)]  

14x13 Lebanon promo shot 

When baby Oedipus is born, his father King Laius receives a prophecy that his son will grow up to kill him, and so, he sends a shepherd to expose the baby on the mountainside to die, before that can happen. The shepherd however, not being an asshole, saves the baby, and raises him secretly as his own.  

Oedipus grows up, and he eventually learns from the Oracle at Delphi herself (see above) that he is fated to kill his father and marry his mother. Believing the shepherd and his wife are his true mother and father, whom he loves, he leaves his home in the mountains for the city of Thebes, determined to defy the prophecy.

On the way, he meets a quarrelsome old man on the road, they fight, and Oedipus kills him:

When he gets to Thebes, he finds the King has been slain, by persons unknown, and the town is at the mercy of the Sphinx. Oedipus, by guessing the Sphinx’s riddle, obtains safety for the town and is, in gratitude, appointed King himself and given the widowed Queen, Jocasta’s, hand in marriage.

All is well for a bit, until a plague descends on Thebes, and Oedipus is told that to save the city, he must avenge King Laius’ death. So, he goes sleuthing, with the extremely relucant help of his seer Tiresius, and to his horror, discovers that he is the one who killed the King (that old dude on the road to Thebes all those years ago), that he is the King’s true son, and has, therefore, killed his father and, in marrying Queen Jocasta, married his mother and committed incest, fulfilling the prophecy he set out to escape from. He promptly blinds himself in horror. Poor ancient Greek dude. 

The Chorus laments the power of fate

O heavy hand of fate!          Who now more desolate, Whose tale more sad than thine, whose lot more dire?          O Oedipus, discrowned head,          Thy cradle was thy marriage bed;

http://www.gutenberg.org/files/31/31-h/31-h.htm  - Project Gutenberg translation of Oedipus Rex. 

A reference to the story of Oedipus and the Sphinx is extremely pregnant right now in the SPN narrative, for two reasons:

1) Fate vs Free Will

2) The Ghost of John Winchester

1) Fate vs Free Will

Dean thinks his interpretation of the book Billie handed him in 14x10 Nihilism - apparently the only death of his in which AU!Michael doesn’t take over his meat-suit and burn the world - means he has to sink himself to the bottom of the ocean, in the Ma’lak (angel) box and that’s “fate”. 

Like Oedipus, there is no escape. 

However, 14x12 tells us two things. Firstly, by analogy - the prophecy is wrong. Alvarez thinks he is carrying out the prophetic Word of God TM by recreating a twisted version of the Plagues of Egypt sent by God in Exodus:

1) The slaughter of a first-born son

2) Drowning in the Red Sea

3) Fire out of Heaven

(all of which are mirrors for what Dean thinks is his “fate” right now: death of a first born son; being drowned forever at the bottom of the ocean in the Ma’lak box; being consumed by the AU Archangel Michael’s Heavenly grace/fire).

But it’s a garbled message, received as a result of Prophet Donatello’s comatose scramblings. 

Secondly, screw prophecy - against the odds, Dr. Sexy of the Lord (yeah - you know Dean thought it) is able to revive Donatello, thus preventing further scramblings (aka wrong prophesies). 

CASTIEL: “Dean - if there is a spark, a hope, then I have to try.... you taught me that!” 

I loved that line, with its resonance all the way back, like a skein of blue grace, to the Apocalypse Mark One, when Dean convinced Castiel, in Zacharia’s (also due to return in 14x13 Lebanon) “green room” in 4x22 Lucifer Rising, to disobey Heaven for the sake of humanity (Yes, Dean, an angel did fall for you...). 

In other words, just as the Winchesters beat their “fate” to be “angel condoms” for Michael and Lucifer last time around, by “tearing up the script” and “making it up as they go” (4x22 Lucifer Rising) thanks to the help of rebel angel Castiel, so they can do so again.   

2) The Ghost of John Winchester

In the SPN world’s worst kept spoiler, we know John will return next week in 14x13 Lebanon. We’ve been meta’ing about the ghost of John Winchester haunting the SPN narrative for... forever.  

Here is some meta of mine on the subject from S12:

http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/158388550099/john-winchesters-ghost-and-the-haunting-of-s12 

John is explicitly recalled, during the brothers’ (beautifully rendered) car conversation in 14x12:

DEAN: “You ever think about when we were kids?”

SAM: “Maybe, yeah, sure, sometimes, why?”

DEAN: “I know I wasn’t always the greatest brother to you.”

SAM: “Dean, you were the one who was always there for me. The only one. I mean, you practically raised me.”

DEAN: “I know things got dicey, you know with Dad, the way he was... and I just.... I didn’t always look out for you the way that I should of. I mean, I had my own stuff, y’know, and in order to keep the peace, it probably looked like I took his side quite a bit. Sometimes, when I was away, you know it wasn’t cos I just ran out, right? Dad would, he would send me away, when I really pissed him off. I think you knew that.”

SAM: “Man I left that behind a long time ago, I had to.”  

AU!Michael, I’ve been arguing since the start of the season, is a mirror for Dean’s self-repression and for John Winchester. See:

http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/179463975289/shirtlesssammy-14x03the-scar-meta-writers

John was one of the major causes of Dean’s self-repression, as illustrated in the convo above, where it’s clear Dean had to grow up too fast to become a substitute-parent to Sam, where he was often obedient to their father to “keep the peace”, and where he was also often, unreasonably, punished by his father in the process (such as, as we already know, when he was sent to Sonny’s after stealing food for Sam in 9x07 Bad Boys). 

According to psychoanalysis, we always internalise psychological constructs of our parents - Freud calls them imagos. So the Riddle of the Sphinx, for Dean, is how to kill (or rather, lay to rest) the ghost of his father (whom AU! Michael is a mirror for) and with it, the self-repression which has wounded him so much, psychically, since childhood, without letting it kill him too.  

Nick, of course (general shudder) also serves as a John Winchester mirror in the episode - his obsessive revenge quest for the slaughter of his wife (aka mirror Mary Winchester) by Abraxas, led to something she never wanted - damage to innocents along the way (aka mirror innocents, Sam and Dean). 

To Conclude

The answer to the Sphinx’s riddle, the one that helped Oedipus avoid being devoured by her was.... humanity.

Light Sphinx, 2015-2016, Mixed media (inc. foam, hand stitched fabrics, LEDs, beads, synthetic hair), 74 x 32 x 54 cm by Tarryn Gill

https://tarryngill.com/Light-Sphinx-Shadow-Sphinx-2015-16 

Dean IS the symbolic representation of humanity (which is why Amara was so fascinated by him, and let’s not forget Metatron’s words about Castiel in 9x22 Stairway to Heaven  - “He’s in love with.... humanity”).  

Our first-born Winchester son just has to believe what this episode showed him -  prophecy can be wrong.

His “fate” - to die, to drown forever, to be consumed by holy grace/fire, to remain trapped by the ghost of his father, by his own self-repression, by AU!Michael, by the Ma’lak box (aka, in subtext, the closet) is NOT the “Word of God”.

And killing one’s father doesn’t (as it did for Oedipus) have to mean damnation, if, the way one does it, is symbolically, by laying his ghost to rest in one’s heart and mind (hello upcoming SPN 300 14x13 Lebanon).

Freud believed the resolution of the Oedipus complex (for boys) was identification with the father (and no, we don’t have to concur with Dr. Freud). Dean has actually been on an oppositve journey, to get out from under his father’s shadow.   

The Jungian solution, which the S14 narrative is offering to the metaphorical Riddle of the Sphinx, is, to turn around and embrace the Shadow-self (the parts of oneself one has repressed) and in so doing, to evolve - to become more fully human.

So, a final salute to Jerry Wanek and team, and the ever wonderful SPN set dressing narrative, for The Sphinx Machine shop!

NB:

You can read my Jungian Meta series here, if you’re interested:

http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/180906003584/the-shadow-14x08

http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/181122764984/14x09-the-spear-jungian-decoder-ring-edition

 http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/182299438269/jung-and-deans-journey-towards-self-integration

And if, you want to read more of my SPN meta in general, go visit my blog and look under the “Meta” sidebar tag: http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/tagged/Meta 

Plus, if you want to read lots of other people’s fabulous SPN meta, go check out the “SPN Meta” sidebar tag: http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/tagged/SPN%20Meta 

Thanks for having me @metafest !

DrSphinx out.  

[pcrozier87]

Just over six weeks ago, I gave birth to my amazing baby girl. I know everybody’s birth experience is different, but I want to share mine–not because something went wrong or I have this horror story to tell,  but because it’s my story and it’s something I feel people might want to know.

This pregnancy was challenging. I had pregnancy-aggravated hypertension and borderline glucose levels that almost put me in range of gestational diabetes. I had swelling in my feet, legs, and hands, and I suffered from pregnancy-induced carpal tunnel syndrome. I also had severe heartburn/indigestion from the very beginning. While I thankfully never suffered with morning sickness, suffice to say I had my share of issues. Maternity triage is no fun. It’s scary, especially when preeclampsia is still a concern of the medical staff. Add sleepless nights and a full-time job, the need to clean and nest, and all of the projects and tasks I needed to accomplish, and I had a full plate. I was making it, though. We sat in triage for a few hours one evening around week 35 and everything came back normal, so we felt good about how things were progressing. I was on blood pressure medicine to keep my levels normal, as well as a baby aspirin every day and low-sodium and low-carb diets to just make it to the due date, which was May 5th.

On the morning of April 22nd, I woke up knowing that I had a doctor’s appointment and that having the baby early was a real option if my levels came back high or abnormal, so I loaded up my hospital bag and made sure I had what I thought I would need just in case.

That day was crazy busy. I had errands to run, a trip to Wal-Mart to make, I cleaned my classroom, I dealt with student irresponsibility and excuses, and I walked waaaaay more than I should have. At my appointment that evening, my blood pressure came back higher than the doctor felt was acceptable, so back to triage I went. Now, last time my husband was with me while we waited, but he had all four wisdom teeth removed a few days prior to that appointment, so he wasn’t quite up to driving on pain medication yet. Fortunately, Mother was already almost to my house with the intention of helping organize baby stuff and get things ready for when the baby finally arrived when I was sent over to be observed. She met me at the hospital and we waited. Every single bed in the entire ward was full. All three triage beds were taken and all 20 labor and delivery beds were occupied, so I waited in the waiting room to be admitted to triage so I could be observed. Thankfully, my doctor is awesome and she checked my blood pressure, told me to take another dose of my medication, and sent me into a larger waiting room to see how I responded. My pressures came down and she released me to go home but I was put on bedrest for the remainder of my pregnancy. We scheduled my induction for the following week, planning on having her arrive the day before my 30th birthday because, well, it was poetic in a way, since my niece was born the day before her mother’s birthday.

You know how we make plans and God just laughs?

Mother and I made plans as we left the hospital to stop by a local restaurant for supper before heading home where I would be banished to my bed or the couch to do a whole lot of nothing while my body finished its work on my sweet baby girl. We pulled into the parking lot (packed, as usual for supper, even though it was a Thursday), and I felt an odd sensation. Almost like I needed to go the bathroom, but I’d made a pit stop before we left the hospital, so it seemed unusual, even for a very pregnant person like me. After determining the 15 minute wait time was acceptable, I left Mother to wait for our table and I went back to the restroom… and there was a gush. Like someone had poured a cup of water into the toilet. I suddenly realized that the unusual sensations and subsequent gush could only mean one thing: my water had broken! Like in the movies! Now, I know we see it on the big screen regularly, but the reality is that only about 10% of women actually experience a rupturing of membranes (water breaking, for those not in the medical field). I was floored! And a little panicked, honestly. I went straight out to Mother and explained the situation, we left the restaurant and called the hospital. Thankfully MY doctor was on-call, so she told me to come back in and prepare to have the baby TODAY. We went home, told my husband what was going on, loaded up in the cars, and off we went.

Now, remember how I said before that the maternity ward was packed? It still was. Thankfully, a bed in triage was available. We got signed in, got settled, and waited. They monitored vitals, got me all hooked up to everything, got me an IV going, started antibiotics (I was strep-B positive, so it’s a normal precaution), and then I started signing stuff. I swear it feels like I signed 50 different pages just to clear them of liability, but we were finally done. They started a low pitocin drip, and we had to sit tight, hoping a room would open up before my body kicked into real labor.

We moved into a different triage bay as the night went by in the hopes of me being able to sleep a little, but I was excited and nervous and too keyed up to do more than doze. My parents and husband were all either at the hospital or a few minutes away at our apartment getting some sleep over the course of the night, and, even though it was slow, the night did pass.

Around 1 PM the next afternoon they finally got us into a labor room, which was a relief. My sister-friend Amy had come to take pictures and be my labor cheerleader, since I knew Mother and Daddy wouldn’t be in the room with me and I wanted Michael to have some help when I inevitably snapped at him during the hard pains of labor. By this point, I was feeling mild contractions from the pitocin, but none so severe that I couldn’t talk through them.

As the afternoon progressed, I experienced harder contractions and an ever-increasing level of pitocin via the IV drip, but I was dilating and effacing slowly. After over 27 hours of letting my body do the work, the doctor came in and delivered the ultimatum: either I dilated past a 4 by the end of the next two hours or we would have to have a cesarean. They were concerned with infection because of the ruptured membranes, and I was honestly getting tired. By this point, I was famished, having eaten nothing for over 24 hours, and subsequently cranky. I caved on the no-meds route and got an IV-fed painkiller some time that evening and slept blissfully for a bit while they cranked up my pitocin drip, then got one more dose around the time the doctor gave me the news of my 2 hour deadline.

My nurses, every one awesome and friendly and so incredibly kind, went above and beyond to make this work for me, especially since I wanted a vaginal birth as natural as possible. The night shift nurse helped me switch positions, move around, and try to really induce dilation, but to no avail. When the time limit was up, around 2 AM Saturday morning, after having been in labor for 30 hours with ever-stronger contractions thanks to the pitocin, I spoke briefly to the anesthesiologist and proceeded into surgery. For the record, I was NOT calm. I was panicking. Where was my natural birth? Why was my body not cooperating? Would I be okay? I hadn’t prepared for a cesarean section birth! How do I cope? How hard will it be to recover from major abdominal surgery? What if I don’t make it?

Thankfully, my amazingly supportive husband, parents, and sister-friend were there to remind me that I wasn’t just giving up, that my body had done its level best and this was what was best not only for me but for my baby girl, too.

They prepped me for surgery, poked me in the back with several needles, and I will admit I was still slightly uneasy as the fiery numbness swept down into my legs, but they finished their preparations and sat my husband by my head with the suction straw ready in case I got sick. Which I did. Three times. Apparently only one produced anything, which made sense because I had consumed nothing but ice chips in 27 hours. I can’t describe the feeling, though. When you normally vomit, there are muscles and spasms and all sorts of icky feelings involved. This was numb, disembodied sensation that I knew was my sensation-less gag reflex. I don’t know if it was from the medicine or them actually moving my stomach around, but it was a very odd experience.

Anyway, after fishing around in my abdominal cavity for a bit, the doctor used the vacuum and got my sweet girl out of her cozy cave and into the world at 3:19 AM on April 22nd. She was cleaned up, suctioned out, and cried the sweetest cry in the world, and then apparently pooped all over the receiving blanket. I was still on the table having my uterus cleaned out (which, according to the doctor, looks great!), so I’m just going by what my husband reported. A few minutes after, he brought her to me and laid her on my upper chest, where I gazed into the sweetest face I’d ever seen.

Her first cries

Our first meeting

A little while after, as I was drifting in and out of awareness, they got me all closed up. I was a bit alarmed because I could feel sensations again, meaning the spinal block was wearing off, but they got me all finished before it was pain rather than just pressure and slight pinches. They lifted me on the “hovercraft” and moved me to the recovery bed, which was slightly more comfortable than my original delivery bed had been. To explain, the hovercraft is an inflatable mattress type setup that allows air to lift the patient from the operating table and makes moving an entire body easier than lifting by arms and legs. I rolled from side to side while they removed the air matress, and they covered me in blissfully warm heated blankets for the roll to recovery.

In the recovery room, I learned my parents had seen the baby and headed out when they learned I made it through safely. They hadn’t slept and were mentally and emotionally exhausted, but would be back soon.

You never know how much you rely on your core until it hurts to engage your abdominal muscles. The first couple of days were rough, but I was able to recover relatively quickly and was up and walking as soon as they’d let me. The rest of the hospital stay was uneventful, surrounded by friendly staff, and pleasant because of visitors and wonderful nurses. We worked on breastfeeding, got some help from a few nurses on latching techniques and the best way to hold her for feedings, and generally enjoyed ourselves. My doctor told us the next week when we went in to get the wound-vac and staples out that the nurses were all really impressed with me and my husband. Apparently we were polite and kind and that’s sadly not a common occurrence around there.

While I was confined to my little hospital room, my mother had worked miracles and cleaned and organized my house, which was what we had originally planned on doing before my water broke. I came home to peace and cleanliness. We’re almost finished with the rest of the reorganization, too, and she has been a God-send for the preservation of my sanity.

Now, six weeks and a few days later, I am sitting here in the middle of the night because my husband is back at work and scheduled from 9 PM to 6 AM. Our schedules work, though, since my darling daughter sleeps for good stretches and has stints of wakefulness spaced far enough apart that I can keep up and take a nap when I need to. She’s already grown so much from her original 8 pounds 1 ounce, 20 1/4 inches, and I cried when she made the 1 month mark. I’m already begging time to slow down. She is beautiful, and sweet, and cuddly. I’m enjoying being her mother. We struggled with postpartum depression for a bit, but that’s being treated and I count my blessings daily for this healthy, amazing little angel.

Her first day

Sweet little feet

Her Pawpaw is the fire chief

The baby and her big sister

  Baby O’s Arrival Just over six weeks ago, I gave birth to my amazing baby girl. I know everybody's birth experience is different, but I want to share mine--not because something went wrong or I have this horror story to tell,  but because it's my story and it's something I feel people might want to know.

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5/12/17, 11:11pm - gettin cucked up

me and a particular group of my melee friends have been using the word cuck a lot still and I never really thought about where it came from. Like 4chan probably repopularized the use of the word because I saw that cuckold porn became a really big trend on there, but the way we use it isn’t like cuckoldry exactly, it’s more like getting fucked over, or stood up, or most specifically teased with a promise of a good time and then having someone back out at the last minute.

More on that later I guess. This week’s been so hectic. Wtf it’s only been like 5 days it feels like it’s been weeks already. I’ve restrategized my Get Your Shit Together (4.0) list, and the big three things are 1. pass the RPSGT, 2. get moved out of my apartment, 3. get some surgeries. 

Tony actually wrote my letter for real, so I put in my application to take the test this week! My cpr aed certification is outdated so I got an online one and I’m not allowed, so I have to do a course this weekend and fix that, but otherwise I’m all set. Gotta study hard, I’m pretty fucking pumped to get a raise. Glad I’m not dying for the money rn though, the $500 to take the test and get a new cpr cert would have me stresssssed the fuck out, dude.  No progress on getting someone to take my room just yet, my room’s a fucking mess, I need to do laundry, I’m kinda putting all this shit off for now tbh. We’ll wait until I’ve taken the exam I’ve got vacation this week anyway. And I talked to my dad, who gave me his blessing so to speak to get a vasectomy. I fudged a number that I told him, said that it’s 90% reversible (most numbers say 95% or greater w/in 3 years, about 50% at 10), but with the potential for in vitro fertilization even if the reversal fails I’m sure that’s about right. He told me that my mom had told him that she wasn’t trying to get pregnant for a year or so and then ‘was practically pregnant the next day.’ coupled with how mom was talking about being pregnant at their wedding I can see that lol. He basically told me that he loves all of us a lot, but yeah I would’ve definitely done that because it’s worth it to not have that kind of surprise when you can’t make money for a kid. I definitely can’t make money for a kid right now lol that would kill me. So I’ve already called the doc to get a referral and I’m gonna get a vasectomy. Gotta figure out how much my septum surgery will be too, but that’ll be a lot more -_- Me and dad were catching up for a bit and I helped him get in touch with Dr. Bruce to fix a hernia so he’s gonna be giving me some more money so that’ll help with that too though. Plus I’ll FINALLY be making sleep tech money. I’m so fucking pumped.

Plus basically the past 3 days I’ve Actually just been working. 3 patients a night for the first time this week was stressful as fuck. I mean not exactly. Just time consuming and pretty frustrating. As jimmy said “if you were still trying to get through Zelda you probably would be dying right now.” Made it through fine and that should sweeten up my paycheck just a smidgen.

Still haven’t eaten french fries, but definitely gave up on cigs. Practically like two days later. I was out drinking for Josh’s birthday and smoked a bunch. That shit was so fucking cash omg. I got blackout drunk for the first time in forevvver. Was hanging out with Jimmy, Josh, Ian, Jack, ran around with one of josh’s friends trying to pick up chicks at a bar after smashing beers into our head and shotgunning them. I have a video lol I’ll try to upload it once I have internet. Was trying to ‘flirt with all the ASA bitties’ but got too drunk and ended up boxing someone in Josh’s friend’s basement (w/ boxing gloves) lmfao. Reminded me of middle school boxing Cory Winters and having our little fight club ring lol. Drunk snapped a bunch of people, ian drove me home, it was a great fucking night. Oh and at Josh’s friend’s I ran into one of my asian friends who I could not remember for the life of me. I wasn’t sure if he was a league friend or one of brosciouss friends or a smash friend I was just so lost, but played it off really well (as always) and did jager shots with him. Fuck. Ing. Lit. First time I felt so happy and natural to be drinking in forever, too. Even got to see brett3 for a bit. Nice to be back in chapel hill. Especially when they’re good old drinking buddies like Jack. It’s so strange that I don’t really talk to anybody else from chapel hill, but then again it really isn’t. 

The date with Brianna went pretty meh. We met up and joked around a bunch and thrift shopped and I bought a whole fuckton of new pants to ease the process of spring cleaning and two new sweatshirts so I’m not wearing fuzzy shit all the time now that it’s getting warmer. Ate at Ms. Winner’s and it was some delicious ass cheap fried chicken, might be my new go to in gboro now. But she like barely wanted to kiss me at the end of the date idk what’s up with her, I’ve kinda bailed out since she’s all preoccupied with her family anyway.

Instead ive gone back to what I call my “harem strats” You see, by chatting up as many girls as possible (right now juggling 4-5) I divert my attention and stay aloof enough that I don’t seem like a crazy fuck. Instead I’m just an asshole who’s two timing girls, but yknow fuck you stop judging me.  This girl hit me up on snapchat saying I looked cute in my story and that we should smoke sometime. With the snapchat name Smokeahontas I could’ve sworn it was Kat, so I just go along with the convo. But then I see kat has a diff username and I was like wtfff who is this lol. I didn’t ask her though, just played along and eventually remembered when she asked for my insta that it was this girl I matched with on tinder months ago that I never followed up with (like most of them), probably because I got lazy lol.  Had a sort of date with Jamie, we got some food because she was getting off work, we smoked a bit, but she was like texting the whole time and fuckin bailed out after just an episode of south park to ‘go to the beach with her roommate.’ I still have been talking to her a bunch, but Idk what the fuck is up with that, kinda whack. Super cucked by how that went. Especially because when I walked her out to her car I didn’t even get a kiss goodnight it was this weird lasting embrace like she pressed her cheek into mine to make sure I didn’t try to kiss her I guess, but still held me tight for a really long time, I was like rubbing her lower back hoping she’d like loosen up and kiss me but hooooly shit it all felt super fucking awkward. I’m hoping she’s just really conservative about dudes since she’s such a cutie, but idk. it makes me actually not give a fuck about her. I have a date tomorrow night with the other textiles girl idr if I wrote about her, but she’s cute, going to ncsu. “allergic to smoke” lol I told her I quit. (I mean I had that day before but I lied and said I did two weeks ago hahah goddamn I’m kind of a twat maybe.) Also actually got cucked by smokeahontas. It was like a situation that was too good to be true though, to be fair. She didn’t have anything to do yesterday night and wanted to hang out; when I told her I was stuck at work and said she should just smoke with me in the morning she said she actually wanted to and would stay up all night to meet up with me when I got off. Ofc she fell asleep, and when she woke up she said she wanted to go back to bed, so I flippantly said “well you could always sleep over here.” and surprisingly enough she said she was actually game for that, so our smoke and horror movie date turned into a naptime date. But an hour passed while I was eating breakfast and in the shower so I was like ‘wtf is up’ and she said she got sick and threw up. Figured I was super cucked once more by another flaker, kind of a bummed out, but not as bummed as after the dates with Jaime and Bri both went so poorly lol. Just happily told her we can try again another time, and now she’s saying she wants to do the same plan for tomorrow morning. 

So There. Is. The potential for me to get laid twice tomorrow. Pretty exciting. I haven’t told anyone that I remade plans with her though. RIGHT after I told some friends about how the nap date got planned out she said she was sick. I FUCKING swear that every time I brag about one of my dates I have lined up it falls the fuck through the floor. So I’m gonna try to never do it again. 

Then there’s this other theatre major girl I started talking to yesterday. Talked about horoscopes and transitioned from talking feminism to her (woke as fuck teens smh) into asking if she ate ass (jokingly) into asking if she wanted to hang. Turns out she’s actually a really cool super geeky chick and I’m really excited to spend time with her since she wants to show me jurassic park for the first time and learn how to play melee. Kinda weird that she’s only 18 still though O.o oh you, tyler. 

SO yeah. That’s the sitch with that. Went from supppper fucking bummed a couple days ago about my dating situation into thinking that I’m the shit again. I think I want to establish that “i’m the best” mentality once again. Because I really am. I’m fucking amazing lmao. 

Ultimately though, I’m still getting cucked left and right and I have little to no faith that I’ll find anybody I actually care about ever again but we’ll see yknow. I think that’s the strats to how I fell in love last time anyway.

hmmm. what else is there... Work in burlington is still super shitty, my commute went from an hour to like an hour and forty minutes today bc people in NC can’t drive through a little bit of fucking drizzling. 

Idk that’s about all I’ve got. Next week’s lake week so gonna have to work again in a few days after some date shenanigans and hopefully I’ve got some more good stories and shit.