#I haven't been told more so

[nyenylon]

Jewels Robyn π Tad

Bro doesn't know his limits so I told him 2πr AAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHRRRH (help)

Isn't he an ugly bastard? Don't you want him dead? Don't you hate his design and wish he would die? Don't you believe they should reconsider shape language? Don't you think it's all over for circles? Should we kill this guy? Yeah we should? Well we can't.

@artsycloudysleepy :3

[rassicas]

Thank God splatoon 3 didn't end up introducing a playable cuttlefish dlc like I feared last year (I honestly don't think we need more new playable species, would've been too sudden, my expectations were on the floor after rotm) but the cuttlefish visuals are still so suspicious to me. This hat has to be on purpose. That's absolutely not a fucking squid or octopus

And this is undeniably a cuttlefish (and the double fin shape resembles the hat)

Like how the lack of mammals in the splatoon world and ark Polaris was something suspicious in the previous games, and characters like marigold and Glen fiddler and lil judd are suspicious now.... It's way more subtle but I think this could be the splatoon team planting some seeds in case they decide to introduce cuttlefish as a separate species in the splatoon world. ill be keeping it in the back of my mind

[buqbite]

part 1 (on VA and being better than humans)

part 2 (on welt and being just a human)

[eggy-the-boy]

some more memes of the gang + a Kipps (because he grew on me)

[thefirstknife]

The thing about the final lore tab is that, besides the fact that I'm devastated in ways I can't put into words, the way Saint was affected by this whole thing is unique.

This is obviously primarily Osiris' trauma that we can't really properly comprehend, but Osiris wasn't fully conscious for most of it. It fell to Saint to wait, and hope, that Osiris would be brought back and that he would wake up. There was no certainty for him there. And even before that, he watched "Osiris" being strange and distant and acting weird but obviously nobody could even begin to speculate that the person he interacted with wasn't Osiris at all, so the trauma went from there, from learning that he lost Sagira, then to the shock of Osiris being kidnapped and then the quest to bring him back and then him being brought back in a coma and then the 9 long months of waiting until he woke up.

The state of constant anxiety he experienced for almost 2 years total is nervewracking and gutwrenching. I don't think we can fully understand the impact of that on someone. And the best, or worst, thing is that Saint is infinitely patient. He is infinitely emotional and merciful and opts to be the better person and to wait and wait and wait. And hope that it can be fixed.

Except it can't. It can't be fixed. And not only can it not be fixed, but there will never be justice for it. It's impossible. There isn't a way to truly punish Savathun for what she's done. There is no relief or catharsis for Saint. While Osiris can mostly move on, Osiris did not really have to go through what Saint had to go through. Their traumas are different and Saint's is the type that no one can really understand and there is nothing he can do about it.

A younger Saint would've killed Immaru and then Savathun, 100%. But now he can't, because he isn't that person anymore. And yet, the grief and trauma remain and he has no outlet for them and nothing that can be done to enact any sort of justice. So he settles for pure rage, letting himself essentially vent that anger out, but still leave everyone alive. And there's really no true release here. He got a brief satisfaction of killing Savathun over and over, but at the end of the day, she will walk away and nothing will change and there will be no fix.

Which is why he comes back and just cries. As he said, this wasn't for Osiris, it was for him. It was his outlet for anger and nothing else. After that, there's nothing else left to do but cry. No one can really help him carry the burden of what he's gone through and besides: he's a Titan. He's the one carrying other people's burdens. Which just added to the trauma because for so long he's only cared for others, mostly for Osiris, and never really let himself fully grieve or talk about it. Saint never really processed the horrifying ordeal of constant concern for his loved one, then the realisation that his loved one isn't even with him, then the desperate search and then waiting for months and months for the hope that his loved one might wake up. Then Osiris is awake and we're forced to play allies with the person who traumatised both of them in an incomprehensibly terrifying way. Saint had no other way of attempting to make his peace with the situation.

Year of processing grief. I'm in shambles.

[mostlyvoid-partiallyflowers]

The most recent episode of Interview with a Vampire let's us see Lestat's side of the story and see how it compares to Louis' accounting of their relationship. As a result, it reaffirms just how unreliable of a narrator Louis is, but it also further illuminates elements of his character that the director and writers have been playing with since the beginning of the show.

There's this part in the episode where Lestat turns to Louis and apologizes and it's framed with Lestat turned to Louis on one side and Claudia on his other side. They're the angel and devil on Louis' shoulders, but who is the angel and who is the devil? And as my friend said, Armand and Daniel are placed into that same dynamic with Louis later on. We are being asked to decide who to trust, who's telling the truth, who's the good guy, but the fact of unreliability robs us of that decision.

This whole story is about Louis, he's the protagonist, though not the narrator, and he is constantly being pulled in two directions, no matter when or where he is in his story. He's a mind split in two, divided by nature and circumstance. He's vampire and human, owner and owned, father and child, angel and devil. He's both telling the story and being told the story. His history is a story he tells himself, and as we've seen, sometimes that story is not whole.

Louis is the angel who saved Claudia from the fire but he's also the devil who sentenced her to an life of endless torment, the adult trapped in the body of a child. He's the angel who rescued Lestat from his grief and also the devil who abandoned him, who couldn't love him, could only kill and leave him.

He's pulled in two directions, internally and externally at all times and so it's no wonder that he feels the need to confess, first to the priest, then Daniel, and then Daniel again.

He's desperate to be heard, a Black man with power in Jim Crow America who's controlled by his position as someone with a seat at the table but one who will never be considered equal. He doesn't belong to the Black community or the white community, he can't. He acts as a go-between, a bridge, one who is pushed and pulled until he can't take it anymore. He's a fledgling child to an undead father, he's a young queer man discovering his sexual identity with an infinitely experienced partner. He's confessing because he wants to be absolved, that human part of him that was raised Catholic, that child who believed, he wants to be saved. He wants to be seen.

Louis wants to attain a forever life that is morally pure, but he can't. He's been soiled by sin, by "the devil," as he calls Lestat, and he can never be clean again. Deep down, I think he knows this, but he can't stop trying to repent. He tries to self-flagellate by staying with Lestat and then tries to repent by killing him, but can't actually follow through. He follows Claudia to Europe to try and assuage his guilt. He sets himself on fire, attempts to burn himself at the stake, to purify his body, rid himself of the dark gift.

Louis is a man endlessly trying to account for the pain he has caused and he ultimately fails, over and over again, because he can't get rid of what he is. A monster. He's an endlessly hungry monster. He's hungry for love, for respect, for power, for forgiveness, for death. He's a hole that can never be filled. He can never truly acquire any of those things because he will always be punishing himself for wanting and needing them in the first place. He will never truly believe he deserves them and as a result, can't accept them if they are ever offered. He can never be absolved for he has damned himself by accepting the dark gift and thus has tainted himself past the point of saving.

[they-didnt-last]

anyone interested in talking about the iconic 2000's middle-grade-bordering-on-ya book series gallagher girls??

[lafragolina]

just kill me

[your-fave-is-christian]

Jack Frost/The Guardians of Childhood from Rise of the Guardians! thank you, you're awesome :)

The Guardians of Childhood from Rise of the Guardians are Christian!

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Ask Idea! (Any version of these two Links!)

Time being a “Dad” for Legend.

(@thepinklink @hermitdrabbles56 @triforce-of-mischief @servantprincess come enjoy)

The emergency department was fairly abandoned as Time entered. The surgeon made his way directly to the charge nurse station and saw Warriors coordinating some bed assignments to get patients to the floors where they needed to go upon admission. When the charge nurse finally finished his task, he let out a sigh of relief upon noticing Time.

"Your patient's in the 300 block," Warriors said. "Census is finally low enough that I have an actual excuse to kick him out. Please help."

"How many?" Time asked, more out of morbid curiosity than anything.

"This is night eleven."

The surgeon's eyes widened. Eleven? He remembered his residency days when he would work well over a hundred hours in a week and was on the brink of insanity while being expected to work. Eleven shifts... that made for, what, 132 hours?

"Eleven consecutive shifts?" he repeated.

"Yeah," Warriors confirmed tiredly. "It isn't safe, Time. For anyone. I'm not letting management get away with it. Get him out of here."

With that, the conversation was cut off as the phone rang and Warriors had to start dealing with another situation. Time watched him a moment longer and then sighed, heading for the area sectioned off for the 300 rooms.

The emergency department was divided into several "blocks" of rooms, usually separated by acuity. The 100s were the "primary care" rooms, where patients who really didn't have an emergency but had nowhere else to go would be sorted. The 200s were the behavioral health area, secluded from the rest of the ER with doors that were always closed to mute the noise of the rest of the department. The 300s and 400s were the acutely ill while the 500s were the critically ill, and the 600s was the pediatric block.

The 300s wasn't far from the charge nurse station, so it didn't take Time long to reach the open area. The nurse station for each block sat in the center of the room so they could easily see all their patients, alongside the "doc box," where the physicians worked. Off to the left side of the nurse's station was the person in question.

Legend sat in front of a computer, a patient's chart open with an assessment half charted. Legend had his head propped on his right fist, his left hand absentmindedly typing words until the computer autocompleted them and he'd tab to the next box.

"Legend?" Time prompted as he approached him.

The travel nurse perked up slightly, some energy lighting his dull eyes. "Hey. Can I help you? They... they didn't put in a trauma consult for the guy in 12, it's a simple fracture. Right?"

"Nobody put in for a trauma consult," Time assured him, resting his hands on the counter in front of him. Legend looked very small and, for lack of a better word, defeated.

They stared at each other for a moment longer, Legend clearly not processing what was going on, and the nurse eventually settled his eyes back on charting with a noncommittal hum of acknowledgement.

"Legend."

The nurse's eyes gazed back up at the surgeon.

"Warriors changed assignments," Time explained. "Someone is picking up your patients."

"I only have one," Legend remarked confusedly. "Wait, what? Shouldn't I be picking up someone's assignment? Why are you even talking about--what?"

"He told me you had one patient, who is waiting for some paperwork from the physician and then is getting discharged," Time said slowly, gently tapping his fingers on the counter as he waited for Legend to process his words. "Which means you really don't have much of a patient assignment right now."

"Yes...?"

"You're going home, Legend."

Legend blinked. Then he blinked again.

Before he could argue, another nurse slid in beside him, stating exactly what Time had just articulated. Legend stared between the two, baffled.

"Then what am I...?"

"You're. Going. Home." Time repeated, stressing each word.

The travel nurse's coworker cleared her throat with a smile, and Legend hastily gave her report before staring at Time once more.

Then it finally seemed to click.

"What kind of bullsh--"

"Legend."

"Why the hell did that idiot think he could send me home--"

"Legend."

"What, does he think things are going to stay calm just because census has settled? I swear, the instant I leave the hospital the waiting room's gonna flood--"

"Legend!" Time finally said a little louder, making the travel nurse jump at his snappish tone. Then the surgeon settled. "Don't worry about what's happening here. That's Warriors' job. You've been working far too much lately."

"They're short staffed," Legend argued, motioning at the barren nurse's station. "What the hell was I going to do, just let them flounder?"

Time sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. "Your sentiment is admirable and good, Legend, but wearing yourself to the bone isn't going to help, either. You'll burn out and fall apart, and they'll be short staffed all the same."

"You're saying I'm replaceable," Legend grumbled, looking at the ground.

"I'm saying you can't help them if you have nothing left to give," Time corrected him patiently, understanding that the nurse's exhaustion was no doubt going to lead to irritability and false assumptions.

"I have plenty to give," Legend fired back, taking a step away and stumbling. "I'll--"

Here he faltered, scrambling for an argument and unable to find one. Time crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, making the travel nurse wave at him dismissively with an irritated tch.

"Where are you going?" Time asked as Legend walked away.

"To see if I'm needed elsewhere," was the terse reply.

"Legend," Time warned. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

The travel nurse froze, throwing a seething glare in his direction. "What, you think you can boss me around like you do Twilight or Wild? I'm not your kid, and I'm not part of your little war veteran posse either. What difference do I make, shouldn't you be in surgery or something? Pretty sure you have a job you're supposed to be doing."

Time took a steadying breath and walked towards Legend. His silence intimidated the travel nurse far more than his words did, and Legend took a wary step away. "What are you--"

With a swift motion, Time reached forward and slung the travel nurse over his shoulder, Legend squealing in alarm. A curious family member peeked out of one of the rooms, but beyond that Legend's hemming and hawing did little to change the situation.

Time had to admit, he was impressed at the combination of curse words the travel nurse was coming up with, though.

By the time they reached the alcove just outside the staff room for the ED, Legend had settled a little, only occasionally cussing Time out, jumping to different languages when he felt particularly irate.

"You need to clock out."

"Fuck you."

"All right, you can deal with it later."

They reached the entrance to the waiting room, and Time finally paused. "Am I going to have to carry you out of here, or will you walk with me?"

Legend's death grip on Time's shirt eased a little, followed by a defeated sigh. "Fine, dammit, I'll walk with you. Just put me down."

With that settled, Time slowly eased Legend to the ground, watching the nurse stumble a little with a dizzy spell. He steadied him by his shoulders, and Legend hissed, pushing him away.

Time furrowed his brow. "What compels you to think you can singlehandedly save everything and everyone, Legend?"

Legend's glare lost its bite, and he looked away. "It's my job, damn it. I'm a travel nurse, we come in to help departments who don't have enough nurses. This is what people rely on me for."

"Well, I don't know what your other assignments did to abuse you so much that you think eleven shifts is acceptable," Time stated, his words softened by his gentle tone. "But you have support here. We're not letting you burn yourself out like this."

"I'm not burnt out!"

Time stared at him until Legend withered under his gaze. He didn't have to rub salt in the wound. Instead, he just said, "Let's go."

Legend followed him somberly to the exit. The longer they walked, though, the more confused the young man became.

"Wait, my car's in a different deck. Where are we going?"

"I'm driving you home."

"What?" Legend stopped in the middle of the parking deck. "Come on, old man, I can handle driving myself home. Do you trust me that little?"

"You do realize that the level of exhaustion you're at probably makes you as addled as if you were drunk?" Time threw back. "You're coming home with me, Ledge. Someone has to take care of you since you don't seem to know how to take care of yourself."

Surprisingly, this didn't merit another string of curses or a fit. Instead, Legend deflated, suddenly out of energy to argue. Time left him be, willing to give the boy some space since he'd been manhandling him so much already. Instead, he unlocked his car and walked towards it, opening the passenger door. Legend dragged his feet over, sliding in silently and buckling up.

The travel nurse was out like a light before they even left the parking deck.

[cerise-on-top]

Hi!! This might be awkward because it's my first time requesting something but I'll try my best.

Could you write a Fem!Reader x Farah where the reader is a Belly Dancer?

Just them meeting and feeling a spark between them. I'm a dancer and it would mean the world to me.

Thanx in advance!

Hey there! I went a little wild with that one since I've been wanting to write something a bit more elaborate for a while now, hope you don't mind =)

Farah with a Belly-Dancer!Reader

The chill of the evening made you shiver, its breeze gently caressing your skin as though you were a lover long lost. And yet, your performance continued as the audience cheered for you. Four evenings you had been performing now, calming the minds and souls of the weary freedom fighters that battled demons each day, trying to gain their freedom from their cruel oppressors. In the darkness of the night, you danced, giving them a glimpse of hope, showing them what they’re fighting for: A future in which neither man nor woman, adult nor child, had to fear for their life. A future in which everyone was treated as equal with love and compassion. From the ashes of war, that future would arise, growing, nurtured by the community found in the broken homes of the people crying for help. You were there to remind the fighters that that was the life to be had once all of this was over.

A small celebration it was, with many having gone to bed, dreaming of green plains among which their children would play. But not you. You would dance the night away. For as long as you could move, for as long as you could improve someone’s night, you would continue to dance. Your graceful movements, paired with the drums of another, made for quite the spectacle. Although tired, the people cheered for you to continue, to entertain them with your entire being. Those fights riddled them with fear, engraving into their hearts emblems of terror, but you dulled the pain, if just for the duration of which you performed your heart out. The rewards weren’t applause, whistles and flowers being thrown at your feet, it was tomorrow. A tomorrow that was one day closer to being ideal. One day, the wars would be over, but until then you shall hold on.

And the chill of the evening almost made her shiver as well. Farah took notice of the gathering of people over at the building, convening in front of it as though offerings to praise the gods were being made. But there was no such thing, for a benevolent and kind deity would never allow this many of her brothers and sisters to fall. And yet, her curiosity betrayed her in that she turned to look at the blissful scene. As her people clapped along to the music, she felt intrigued. Who was it that brought joy in such dark times? Who would bring about such bright smiles? Who would make those soldiers feel at ease during times of war? It must have been someone, who had lost their mind, evidently. And yet, there was a sense of gratitude. Why wallow in misery, one day it will all have been worth it. One day, those uncertain times would finally be over and they could finally rebuild their cities from the rubble, that, which has been so unfairly been laid waste to.

And among that stage was something Farah would have never believed, had she not seen it with her own eyes. A trick of the dim light, perhaps. Maybe even a phantom, sent to entice her. She was strong, much more so than even her closest companions would believe, but what she saw on stage gave her a feeling of contentment. There was no certainty you were real, perhaps you were an illusion caused by her fears and worries, perhaps you were a foul demon that sought to get her off her path of righteousness. Either way, you were ethereal. The passion behind your movements was enough to convince her that you must have been some greater being. You brought cheer and happiness to the almost hopeless. Oh, how Farah wished she could have gone onto that stage, show her chivalrous side and protect you from all harm. But her mission would allow her to do so anyway.

And what you saw almost made you freeze in place. A woman, hardened by the battles she’s fought and won, but the kindness in her eyes was very much there. She was rough around the edges, she had been beaten down so many times, but she never ceased to fight, she never ceased to do what was right. For herself and the people she believed in. From below, she stared right back at you, her eyes sparkling brighter than the stars above. Although you had recognized her from hearsay, you never would have thought you would get to see her in person, much less have someone of such importance watch your performance. It was the incentive you needed, the energy boost given to you after a small break, that invigorated you. You were born anew under her gaze, a warm feeling overcoming you. And just like that, just because that woman watched you with such intent, you could continue to dance the night away.

But even as that youthful joy began to settle in your heart, you felt the urge to talk to that woman. She, who had no name you knew of so far, had captivated you in a way you couldn’t describe as you were. Perhaps the gods knew what it was you were feeling, but you, a mere mortal, lacked the understanding. And thus, as the masses slowly began to disperse, seeking the warmth of rest, you stepped off the stage for just a moment. There she was, her arms crossed, and yet she seemed approachable. With a gentle smile, she waved you over. In a world where most deities seem to leave humanity to fend for its own, why would a goddess of beauty, love and war come to call you, of all people? It was an enigma you had naught but an inkling of a reason. And yet, despite all the wars she’s fought in, she seemed to be so kind. Your heart was drawn to hers.

“Your performance was really nice.” Her voice, sweeter than sugar trapped in honey, enticed you. Her melodious voice beckoned you closer, and you followed suit.

“Thank you, that’s very kind of you. You’re the commander, right? It’s an honor to meet you. I’m Y/N.” Almost shy in your approach, but you seemed more fierce than a lion defending his own kin. Although you held no guns, you fought for your beliefs in your own ways. How admirable.

Farah may not have been a believer of destiny, thinking that one could only carve one’s own path as the world would do whatever it took to prevent one from achieving the greatest of things, but it felt as though her and you had been intertwined. Oh, what cruelly sweet fate had brought you together? What made you meet under these circumstances? But perhaps fate had brought you together for a reason?

And for the first time that evening, the both of you could finally share in the warmth of a new companionship.

[roxyandelsewhere]

Angels’ trueforms in their most memorable moments [26/?] - Nephilim fetus: regular nephil, sired by a regular angel (above) and Jack, sired by Lucifer (below)

inprnt | society6 | redbubble | teepublic | ko-fi

[guinevereslancelot]

me, a jammer 🫐🎶

[thedreadvampy]

The thing is I am definitely not happy or chill in the Immediate Sense lately but I am, big picture, so fucking happy with the person I am.

It's like. My brain was made by and for consistent trauma and since that trauma stopped about 5-7 years ago, it is incredible what the amount of resilience and cleverness and flexibility and thoughtfulness I developed to survive can do when it's not being all spent on surviving. like I had a hundred ton weight on me so I had to get REALLY STRONG to stay in the same place and not get 100% crushed, and when that weight came off I found I can use the strength it used to take to stand up and I can leap tall buildings in a single bound.

I was talking to my mum the other day and she said, "you've got the 'fuck it' energy at 30 that most women don't find until their fifties at least" and I'm like yeah man. Imagine how unstoppable I'll be in 20 years.

[ageless-aislynn]

Friends, my time has come.

I mean, it's a shame there's no option for "you sold me a computer infested with demons and basically your idea of tech support is 'Wow, sucks to be you'" but I made do with what I had. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[thecedarchronicle]

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