#and you really dont need much

[luxtoony]

Hello again!

I did this lil silly survey a long while ago :)

I wanted to ask if you would mind to answer a few of my questions :3

If not, that's totally fine! No pressure!

How many hours do you sleep per night?

How many hours are enough to get through the day and how many are a lot for your standard?

Is caffein (in any form) part of your morning routine or your 'last resort'?

How do you feel over the day before and after consuming caffein (if you consume any)?

For example: sluggish, foggy, awake, exhausted, grumpy, just tired, etc.

Thank you a lot for (maybe) participating!

If you want, I can add you when I post the results, but I can also leave you out :)

Lmao @meowufff I'm probably so late with the answers but what can I do, life be lifyn. Answers down below:

How many hours do you sleep per night?

... It depends on the night. Usually I sleep around 6h... But I'm not a regular sleeper 😅 so 0, 3, 12 hours do happen quite frequently.

How many hours are enough to get through the day and how many are a lot for your standard?

Usually 6-8 is fine. A lot for my standard... Hard to say *shrug*

Is caffein (in any form) part of your morning routine or your 'last resort'?

I don't drink coffee regularly, but I do drink it whenever I feel like it. Or more like, milk with coffee. I'd say I drink 3-4 coffees a week

How do you feel over the day before and after consuming caffein (if you consume any)?

Caffeine has very little effect on me. It's more like a placebo try to inflict on myself. There are no effects from the days in between drinking it, although my tummy doesn't like when I drink coffee on empty stomach, and my body really doesn't like energy drinks thus why I drink them only as a last resort.and overall rather hate them.

[nectarinegirl]

Help Israa evacuate when Rafah crossing reopens!!

I've written posts for my friend Israa @nasseer220 before, and she once again needs our help to evacuate as soon as possible when the border opens. Israa is a mother to two young children, her son Nasser, and her daughter Enaam. Enaam was born during the genocide and contracted hepatitis, which caused her to need urgent surgery to save her life. With her youngest in delicate health, Israa needs to be able to evacuate as soon as she can, and also seek medical treatment, not only for Enaam, but for her entire family.

Israa's father recently passed away because he had a stroke while also battling cancer, and she was unable to pay for his care. Please, this time, don't abandon her, and share and donate so she can save her young children.

Israa's old fundraiser is vetted by association here, and she had to start from scratch after her previous fundraisers organizer closed the fundraiser. Her fundraiser is moving very slowly, the last donation was 7 hours ago and the one before that was from FIVE DAYS AGO.

Share!! Donate!! Please, do not forget Israa again!!

Tagging under the cut, sorry for tagging so much, as always respond to this post if you do not want to be tagged.

@socalgal @wellwaterhysteria @rhubarbspring

@bulliness @vampiricvenus @imjustheretotrytohelp

@nbblacksheep @afro-elf @iregularlyevadetaxes

@ladiablesse @kyra45-helping-others @2bu

@omegaversereloaded @capricornpropaganda @hoodhinata

@paparoach @guldaastan @boobieteriat

@commissions4aid-international @a-shade-of-blue @c-u-c-koo-4-40k

@murderbot @musicfren @wearywoes

@heritageposts @dirhwangdaseul @papenathys

@cfo-of-antifa @shesnake @akajustmerry

@neechees @paper-mario-wiki @idontmindifuforgetme

[pansy-picnics]

“gay son or thot daughter,” you start to ask, but you can’t even finish your sentence because cosmo and wanda heard “gay son” and immediately started cheering and clapping

[asternomikal]

as someone who's half carribbean (trinidadian!) and a MASSIVE eclipse enjoyer, i thought it might be nice to draw him as afrocarribbean as well, thus became of these few pieces!! little conceptual sketches below :]

[kortac-sweetheart]

thinkin abt: classic “traitor” sergeant you and tf 141, except you have a different trauma response

cw: angst no comfort (yet), mentions of torture and physical harm, derealization, reader believes they deserve their torture (honestly selfship coded sorry) shout out to hedgehog’s dilemma one of my favorite dilemmas, very VERY canon divergent, no use of (y/n)

pt 2 with kortac maybe? as they slowly rehabilitate you and you learn to open up again

for as long as you can remember you’ve been an outsider. never quite fitting in with your classmates or even your “friends”. your two acquaintances (more like) in elementary school would drag you along, like a glorified pet, wherever they went. only to turn around and ignore you, chatting happily with each other as if you weren’t there.

and when you were older, you didn’t have any friends in class. always electing to sit by yourself and disturbing nothing and no one. fading into the background, like a shadow.

eventually you wind up joining the military, efficiently climbing the ranks until you land sergeant in task force 141. for the first few years of you joining, it’s much the same. that feeling of being other always lingering in the back of your mind, only amplified when observing the others in the team.

how soap easily makes gaz and price laugh, and even coaxing a chuckle out of ghost. how effortlessly they talk to each other, to the way tackling one another in a bear hug in the base halls was no big deal. almost envious at how openly they interacted with each other.

witnessing it makes you feel like you’re in school again. forcibly reverts you to the younger you that endured your so-called friends ignoring you.

but you don’t bring it up. ever. being here and fighting alongside them is already treading thin ice in your mind. already impeding upon their well established relationships. an intruder. an outsider. a stranger. a nuisance.

you linger behind them in hallways, erring from their side and sight around base. sitting far from the others during briefings, eating alone during mealtime. absent from post mission celebrations.

you keep them at arms length despite them being your teammates. it’s not their fault, it’s yours.

if i let them in, it’ll only hurt again.

but they break down your walls slowly, oh so painfully slowly. johnny now jokes besides you in the break room and during meal times, conversation is always pleasant with kyle, whilst simon looks out for you, very, very quietly. and john isn’t afraid to tell you of the good work you do on field, ruffling your hair like a proud dad.

things seem to be looking bright for you.

until they aren’t.

you fall asleep peacefully in your bed only to wake up strapped to an uncomfortable metal chair in the base’s interrogation room. a mole, unbeknownst to the rest of the team had planted evidence framing you and accusing you of betraying them. taking advantage of the thin fault line in your relationships, vulnerable and unsteady, compared to the stalwart trust they already had in each other. then, subsequently tearing that fault wide open, in order to break the team from the inside out.

your tenuous and fragile relationships finally blooming, only to be crushed under heel in a single night.

the light strains your eyes and the tight ropes dig painfully into your flesh, back aching and head throbbing as you await your fate.

three sets of eyes that only started to gaze warmly at you are now long gone. replaced with a plethora of emotions, betrayal, ire, resentment, bitterness, distrust.

you try to plead your case, that you have no idea what’s going on or what they’re talking about. you’ve never heard of any of these people in your life, nor have you ever heard of that operation at all.

but all of it is futile. you can see it clear as day in their eyes. they glare at you with such distain, it’s akin to what they gave their enemies on the field; except much much worse. this time it’s personal, someone they thought they knew.

they don’t believe you.

you realize that quickly. and after that you become borderline unresponsive. shutting down, physically, mentally, retreating into your mind, a desperate attempt to keep yourself safe from your allies-turned-tormentors.

you no longer scream your protests, all cries of agony quieted down until there wasn’t a single peep from you. although your tears never cease.

it angers them. they yell in your face, demanding answers to questions you haven’t the ability to answer. why were you being so difficult? if you’d just answer it’d be easier on you and them.

they subject you to a whole torrent of horrors. the restraints tightening and digging into your flesh, blood seeping into the rope. ghost slashes a knife up the side of your face, from your jaw to above your eyebrow bone. your eye just barely making it out unscathed because you shut it in time. then they start to rip your nails out, painfully, one by one. each time you don’t answer them, another one is torn out.

(they remember what you said offhandedly. that you didn’t like others being pushy, that you valued your autonomy highly. and what better way to break you than to rid you of it? stripping you of your nails, slashing at your muscles, tightening the ropes until you bled. anything, everything to ruin what little sovereignty you had left.)

despite being swathed deep in the recesses of your mind, you can still hear them. their voices muddied and muffled, as if underwater and you’re left unable to discern who’s words are who’s. not that it mattered anyway. the venom in their tone remained the same no matter who spoke.

“disgusting fucking traitor.”

“you’re such a pathetic piece of shit.”

“aww, cry some more.”

“should’ve never trusted you.”

“what an utterly worthless burden. only served to drag down the team.”

their words seep into your mind like poison through blood. it leaves you doubting, frantically questioning all moments you’ve shared with them. leaves you spiraling deeper and deeper into the dark abyss of your mind. your safe haven, and your cold prison.

did they always think this?

did they always hate me?

what did i do wrong?

i must’ve done something wrong to deserve this.

i deserve this.

i’m sorry.

i’m sorry.

i’m sorry.

i’m sorry.

i’m sorry.

i’m sorry.

i’m sorry.

i’m sorry.

i’m sorry.

i’m sorry.

you still remain motionless, and they scoff, looking down at you as they ash their cigarettes on your bruised skin. you don’t react. soap, frenzied, aggravated and wound up, lands a hard punch straight in your jaw. your head flying back with a sickening crunch before hanging low over your lap, face obscured.

gaz violently yanks your hair back, revealing your battered face. the lighting of the room casting long, tired shadows across it as he forces you to look at them. and you do, but not quite at them.

you don’t stare at them. you stare through them. like they aren’t there, like YOU aren’t there. they see nothing behind your eyes. it was like you were already dead. and maybe, at this point, it would’ve been better if you were.

hours blend into days and days possibly into weeks. your life has been nothing but torment and agony for who knows how long. never allowed a moment of rest or respite, being violently slapped awake if you’ve ever got lucky enough to grasp at increasingly ephemeral shut eye. time slips away into nothingness when your whole life has turned to pain.

they’re starting to grow more desperate for answers; despite everything they’ve thrown at you, you still haven’t “cracked”. and so they turn to more.. permanent methods of harm.

by the time price barges through the door, alarming everyone that you were innocent and you were falsely framed by a mole, your pinky is already severed and falling to the floor.

as if it were only a cruel nightmare, everything ceases immediately. and you pass out as you’re rushed to the base medics.

you’re awake once again, but you’re not quite all there. still safely tucked away in the depths of your mind. everyday is still a blur as your battered and beaten body tries to heal, ignoring the pity in passersby eyes’ and forced to rely on the kindness of base medics for hygiene. as if it wasn’t humiliating enough to end up in such a state.

even in your semi lucid state you still recognize them, the weight of their gait and their footfalls against the floor. always bracing for further injury whenever they draw nearer, clenched eyes, hunched posture, and a deep grimace. turned away out of fear for an impact you can’t ever guarantee is truly gone.

you silently reject their help, withdraw in on yourself to a state they’ve never seen before. you stop talking to them entirely, stop talking to everyone for that matter. whenever they try to sit next to you, you always flinch before scooting away from them, or most times you hobble away from them entirely. they never stop you. and you never look back.

(they wish you would yell at them. slap them, lash out at them, anything would be better than your numb indifference towards them now. with your anger they know for sure that you’re still in there, but, now. now it’s like a wraith is haunting the halls, more of a ghost than the man fool himself could ever hope to be.)

you return to the field as soon as you can. and everyone is surprised that your performance hasn’t suffered as much as they thought it would, considering… everything.

you’re already burdening everyone enough. if your performance were to decline then they would surely toss you aside, and everything would be for naught.

but the higher ups can see the mental toll it takes on you. to be besides them, as if this never happened. everyone can see the way they inadvertently hurt you more, can see the writing on the wall if you continue to work with them.

and so, they set up a transfer. to kortac.

you certainly have no complaints, but your ex-tormentors undoubtedly do. up in arms about the whole thing until they’re told to stand down. to follow orders.

just like they did before.

things were the same in the days leading up to the transfer. you avoid them, taking different hallways around base. never interacting more than the bare minimum, efficiently finishing missions without small talk or celebration. and always rejecting their offers of help with a faraway look and shake of your head.

and on the day of the transfer, they still try to plead for you to stay. to apologize for what cannot, and can never be undone.

you’re fed up with all of it.

clearing your throat and murmuring just loud enough for them to hear,

“forgive me if i’m speaking out of line, but who was the one to call me quote, “an utterly worthless burden?” was it lieutenant riley or sergeant mactavish? perhaps it was sergeant garrick? well… it doesn’t matter anyway. you’ll be better off without a detriment dragging down your team.”

they look heartbroken, stammering out apologies after apologies, but it all sounds so empty to you. until johnny whimpers out “god, we’re so sorry. you didn’t deserve what we did to you, not at all. we’d— we’d do anything to take it back!” he’d go on and on until you cut him off.

“didn’t deserve it? of course i deserved it, i must have done something worth punishing. otherwise… otherwise…” you were trembling, your hands painfully clutching your arms. your head bent over and face obscured from your hair, eerily similar to when you were being tortured. the sight of you so battered and broken burned into their mind.

foolishly, someone reaches out a hand towards you and you jerk back violently, as if burned. hyperventilating and quivering as you dig your painfully throbbing fingers into your arms, eyes wide like a frightened animal. the sight of them, looking at you so concerned, the sight of your missing pinky and your bloodied fingertips, it’s all too much. the room in spinning, the floor is collapsing underneath you and your head feels like it’s underwater, “don’t— don’t touch me!”

your voice feels like it doesn’t belong to you, and you can’t take it anymore. blindly rushing out the door as fast as your feet can carry you. running away from the room— away from them, they don’t move to stop you, rooted firmly in place.

they knew they fucked up immensely, but it was only then that they understood the magnitude in which they ruined you. unintentionally led you to believe that you deserved the hell they put you through, only confirming and fortifying your feelings of being an outsider.

unworthy, burdening, all of those hurtful notions you held about yourself that they had once tried to erase, back a thousand fold.

and they had no one but themselves to blame for it.

(they nearly buckled under the weight of their actions. realizing that they’d never get the chance to even attempt to atone for what they’ve done. that you’d leave forever believing that they had hated you the whole time. and that you hate them now, too.)

pt2

[arcanegifs]

Here are some Season 2 Arcane GIF comparisons before and after I color and sharpen them! | Season 1 Comparison GIFs

[wolfwarrior142]

Aaravos with his first child: *loves her so deeply, profoundly devastated for a century after she's unfairly killed, causes chaos for centuries after*

Aaravos with his second child: Fuck this little freak lol

[artingstarvist]

TGCF Vol 3, Chp. 43 - 44 (First "Kiss") Part 2 / 5 (First, Next)

Next part is finally done! Xie Lian's inner monologue kills me.

Novel excerpt under the cut:

[denotes panel #]

[1, 2] Xie Lian blinked, trying desperately to bat away the thousands upon millions of lingering crystalline bubbles. [3] Then he found himself caught by a pair of strong arms. [4, 5] One hand circled his waist, and the other grasped his chin. [6] In the next second, something cold and soft covered his lips. [7]In that instant, Xie Lian's eyes bulged. Never in his life had anyone treated him like this. First, no one dared, second, no one could. However this person was swift like the devil and had appeared so suddenly that he had no chance to defend himself before he'd been plunged into such a state. [8, 9] Flustered, he thrashed and desperately tried to push the person away. [10] Instead, he only succeeded in choking on large mouthfuls of water as string after string of bubbles escaped his mouth like crystal beads. Of course, this was a big mistake underwater. [11] The hands round his waist only tightened, pressing their bodies closer together, and Xie Lian's struggling hands were firmly folded and crushed against his own chest, trapping them in place. [12] His lips, too, were securely sealed. The kiss deepened, and with it, a breath of cool, gentle air was transferred into his mouth. [13, 14, 15] Completely helpless and at a loss, just as Xie Lian began to accept his fate, he finally saw the person's face clearly. [16] It was Hua Cheng. [17] The moment he realized it was Hua Cheng, he stopped struggling. Innumerable random thoughts popped into his mind, all inappropriate for the time and place, such as : So it was Hua Cheng! No wonder he's cold. [18] Ghosts don't need to breathe, but he can still transfer air to me?! [19] Don't ghosts sink in the water? [20] Hua Cheng suddenly opened his eye. [21, 22] Staring into that dark eye from such an intimate distance, Xie Lian froze again, then resumed struggling, his arms flailing like a duck so clumsy it was drowning. [23, 24] Hua Cheng easily corralled those thrashing limbs, and with his arm still firmly locked around Xie Lian's waist, Hua Cheng took him and speedily swam upward.

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Aroace Sonic pt 14

If you know you know

[lizardbrainlabs]

Your interpretation of Hector talking with Bauhauzzo post-game (if you can see that happening) would be neat!!

oh the horrors of knowing no one can fix the problem except for you

[just-null]

Yknow that pic where that drunk lady kissed lipstick marks all over her cat? All I can imagine is doing this to the clones each time I get home

POINTS AT MY PET AU

[the pic in question!]

[starkspi]

From "Unadulterated Loathing" in which Charlie chains these two idiots accidentally together by @otsmosis (who made this comment at the end of the last chapter and inspired me to do whatever this is above)

[artwheat]

hello i love big lizards

I had a lot of fun considering morphology and environmental adaptions but make it fantasy for these.

Insvilvar has rough, rocky looking spikes and lots of fins because he's old as hell and powerful. I like to think the fins aren't really useful for anything, they're more like a lion's mane. The better quality a red dragon's diet is, the more they have, to show they're successful and strong.

Cereza is basically a hatchling by dragon standards, so I made her build lankier and gave her fluff and feathers like a baby dinosaur :) this would be to keep her safe from the elements while her body is still small and not so good at thermoregulating yet.

Zoren was the most fun to conceptualize. He's built more stoutly, with shorter limbs and snout, and lots of fluff to conserve heat in his frozen home. And he's got big ol polar bear paws, to distribute his weight more evenly across ice and keep from breaking through.

[gingerswagfreckles]

Not really loving how my post about the left's love affair with eugenics and blood and soil ideology framed as "decolonization" got coopted into another "wait it's all Christianity??" "It always has been" post." Y'all are sticking your heads in the sand if you think this is a problem with "cultural Christianity." This is the exact same pattern we saw play out in the 1979 Iranian revolution and much of this ideology was coopted from the Nazis by the Soviets and reframed as progressive. This is not an issue with Western "cultural Christianity" and it would be great if Jumblr could stop engaging in the same "there's actually one secret root cause of every problem in the world and if we get rid of it we will have utopia" thing that antisemites have been using against Jews for 2000 years.

[medicalunprofessional]

never change, man !

[ganondoodle]

wont have time to work on anything for a few days probably, so uh, since i love reading comments/tags of people sharing their experiences- as part of the preparation for the totk rant script i got another question to ask :3

if you dont like tears of the kingdom, was there a moment that "broke" you, as in, the moment you knew this game is worse than you thought/hoped, and if so what was it?

personally, while i was suspicious after seeing its last trailer, i told myself its just me again and i kept up my hopes for a long time into my playthrough- its hard to point to a specific point since it was a growing feeling of something being off, things didnt make sense and i ever so more wondered how they would pull this all together (they didnt)- i do think the moment i stopped being in denial about it was when i found the shrine of life, the beginning of botw, and found .. nothing, a dingy cave practically licked clean of any traces of the shiekah tech like it never existed, instead of the medical bed a pathetic puddle of water that healed you, no one caring at all, like it actually never happened- i felt like the game pointed and laughed at me for caring about botw, pretty sure i was struggeling to keep it together on stream bc it forced me to realize this game truly is everything i hoped it wouldnt be, even if that sounds a little weird, at that time zelda and especially botw was so much more important to me, a passion for the franchise this game really did end up killing.