#don’t mind me bro

[sophelisticated]

I know nobody follows me yet… but I made… someting for @bamsara, they don’t like being idolized but they are so cool to me they are my INSPIRATION. Shakespeare hangs its head in shame at how good Bam’s writing is

Anyway I made dis, it’s a oc insert in bam’s rehabilitation of death fanfic! It’s not very good, but I awoke in the night and brain exploded in ideas.

Word count: ~1.2k

(SPOILERS FOR THEIR FIC, PLEASE BE WARNED)

-Sleep Like the Dead-

The One Who Waits is patient. It’s in his title. Even so, ever since the entrapment of being in this mortal, lowly body, his… ‘nightmares’ have become more than a mere nuisance. Narinder has awaken with more bile in his throat, more of his godly blood spilled from his eyes. And most importantly—he has grown more irritable. The lamb had noticed that the god of death’s patience for their silly rants have been shut down sooner than usual. Though Lambert has pressed Narinder for information, the vessel is met with a sneering cat showing it’s back to them.

It was a night such as all the others. The former god of death sat in his bed, meditating, but found himself distracted. He did not want to go to sleep, but he felt tired. His ego already shattered from being in a mortal body, he felt himself even more pathetic. A god being scared of some mere ‘nightmares’? It made him cringe at himself. But he knew that even if he slept, he wouldn’t gain anything out of it. His mind cannot escape the traitor. The lamb. That wretched, awful excuse for a vessel.

But the exhaustion tugs at his eyes. And he complies quietly, though irritably. He lays down, and lays there with a grimace. Simply waiting until he falls unconscious.

He lays down at the trunk of the tree.

“Do not wander.” Narinder says firmly to Baal and Aym. They nod and go scurry off. They have been adapting well to the cult. The flock have been teaching Baal and Aym routines, but today? They get to wander. Narinder looks up at the beautiful tree he lays up against. The purple bark complimented its leaves and flowers. This year, it has exploded in color, more than it usual would. White leaves paired with multicolored flowers. The grass is warm underneath him. And strangely enough, it doesn’t decay. And he’s actually happy about that fact.

He looked out into the distance with a small hum of relaxation. He sees Baal stuffing flowers in Aym’s collar, and they go running off into a chase. But not too far. Just as Narinder asked.

“Is it nice?” A soothing voice comes from his left. Narinder doesn’t jump, nor get surprised. Like he somehow knew she was there.

It was a bird. A peacock. Her white plumage glittering in the sunlight, but glowing more on the rainbow feathers on her tail and the primary and secondary rainbow feathers on her wings. The flowing white dress she wore went further than her feet, but she walked with grace. The white dress did not get any grass stains as she walked from behind the tree. She nestled next to Narinder at the base of the purple tree. Her caring, rainbow eyes scanning his form. Whatever the peacock is thinking, the cat cannot place it. Her wings fold at her sides. He answers back in a casual tone. “I enjoy it. I get to have some privacy from the lamb.” He scoffed. The peacock chuckled softly at his words. “It must be frustrating. Even having him plague your dreams. Thankfully, he is not here.” She speaks gently, tilting her beak at him. Narinder opens his mouth to respond, and he feels a lot heavier as he processes her words, and then becomes aware of his surroundings. He narrows his eyes at the peacock, but finds his body too fuzzy and warm to move away.

“This is not my memory. Who’s memory is this? I don’t-“ “Tis no memory. Never was, my dear.” The rainbow stranger cuts him off with a gentle wave of her wing.

“I am Oneiros. I am the representation of dreams, imagination, and creation.” She says calmly. Narinder notices that his body had relaxed, and his mind calmer. Something about her voice. It just made him calm. He stared at her for a long minute. And she simply stared out at the fields.

“Have you come to torture me in my sleep, as the lamb has?” The god of death glowers at Oneiros, but the glare doesn’t have the fierce energy he wants it to. It doesn’t particularly matter though. She just hummed softly at his words. “No, One Who Waits. I believed you needed a fulfilling rest, a rest filled with softness and warmth.” She spoke patiently, plucking a couple of flowers and beginning to make a little banquet. But gods cannot dream. He knew that for certain. This woman spouts lies, manipulating me into getting me think I can trust her, until-

“I do not lie.” She interrupts his thinking. He snarls at the reminder that his thoughts aren’t safe in the dreamworld.

“Yes, gods cannot dream. But in special circumstances, i can bless them with a dream. The circumstances I will not share with you, little cat.” Oneiros booped his nose with a rose. Narinder snarled, swatting the flower away. “Are you mocking me?” He sneered, and Oneiros made a squawk of laughter. “No, dear. I like giving my dreamers nicknames. Little cat will be yours.” She hummed, her eyes upturned with light humor. The god of death sneered again. He bristled, his tail spiking in irritation. “I shall pluck your feathers out, one by one, if you ever call me that again.” He snarled, his tail whipping back and forth with attitude. She chortled in amusement. “I have worse nicknames, my dear. But I will just call you ‘cat’.” Oneiros hummed. He huffed, but didn’t comment any further. His usual malicious tendencies were toned down more in this realm, he felt less argumentative, he noticed. The peacock then handed him a mini banquet of multicolored flowers. Flowers of such bright colors, he assumed they were exotic.

“I will come again when you are at your lowest. For this safe haven will always look different each time you are here.” She cooed. Bowing her head to Narinder. He took the flowers, and they didn’t wilt, even if he wanted it to. The peacock huffed at his attempt. Not upset, but a tad disappointed at his attitude.

He then heard the yelling of voices familiar. He had seen them earlier, but now that he is more aware, he stills at the sight of Baal and Aym playing in the flowers. He is silent for many heartbeats. The pair stare at The One Who Waits, confused.

“Are they here?” He asked gruffly, but there was a tone of longing in his voice, which he cursed at himself for letting slip out. The question didn’t make much sense, but Oneiros understood. The rainbow peacock took notice of Narinders uncertainty. Almost desperation. At this, her eyes softened in pity.

“No, sweetheart.” She said gently, a motherly air. She put a wing on his shoulder, the softness of the feathers slightly against his cheek making him swivel his head to look at the bird.

“Nothing in this realm is real. I’m sorry, dear. Wake up, and be refreshed.” Oneiros commanded, blessed. Brushing her rainbow wings against his forehead, and his insides felt fuzzier. The warmth of the grass becoming unfocused as he felt his body drop.

He slowly sat up, and he checked his face and sheets. No bleeding. And he felt better than he had in weeks, probably even months.

He didn’t find the company unpleasant, Narinder just wasn’t used to it. He felt like he could handle 20 hours of the lambs rambling, and 10 minutes was already straining it. So to say he felt better was an understatement.

He’d be hoping to visit that realm again soon. Maybe see if the rainbow peacock has any insight on what to do when godly power is shared between two people.

[alabasterpickles]

Silly quick lil comic about Junior having a nightmare and dad being an excellent sport because I thought the idea would be cute

[restlesskeychains]

Odysseus would like rip a box apart with his bare hands. Penelope would gracefully open it with scissors. Telemachus would try to rip it apart but then he’d give up and ask his mom to open it for him.

[dollopole]

I should find another hobby

Anyway, if Merlin was set in modern times, Arthur would have called Merlin his “gay awakening”.

[your-unfriendlyghost]

With the top gun au, i think that now that Steve has his hands on hairspray, they spend too much money on that shit cause Steve goes through like practically two cans a week. They stock up on it like it's rations

No fr it’s a problem

[turtleblogatlast]

Something I love about Leo is that, canonically, he IS capable of cooking, he’s just completely incapable of using a toaster. He’s banned from the kitchen not out of an inability to make edible food, but because being within six feet of a toaster causes the poor appliance to spontaneously combust.

[peytowin]

MAMA MIA ITS MARIO DAY

[theeternalfool]

drew baby damian over philosophical cat memes

og pics

[lordandladywhistledown]

Luke Newton's yearning eyes need their own acting credits I MEAN...

[halojalex]

SIR-

[lythecreatorart]

Curse au concept for me and me only-

As I am an inniter first and Martyn lore enjoyer second

Curse in as if c!Tom join third life and join Dogwarts kind of curse-

I don’t think c!Tubbo, c!Ranboo, or c!Techno will get their appear, but I just want to draw how much ridiculous of height difference is-

[antaripirate]

holland mid conversation with ojka

[a-lost-crow]

I was thinking of a cross faction Sniperscout scenario. That being the Red Sniper asking the Red Spy to disable the security cameras for him. And when Spy asks why, Sniper tries to give every excuse until he eventually comes clean. Then the camera just cuts to Spy trying not to laugh and having this face expression:

[lemonlimestar]

do NOT say core four polycue when you really mean tim/kon/bart & wow look cassie is also here ❤️

[concreteburialplot]

“grey in your eyes, your soul must be silver plated”

-I DON’T LIKE DARKNESS - Chase Atlantic

[turtleblogatlast]

Something I love to think about is every iteration of Leo’s relationship with Splinter and how Splinter’s interests always define how a Leo presents himself.

I used to abide by the idea that a Leo will simply emulate his Splinter directly, and to an extent I still believe that to be the case, but moreso I think Leos have a tendency to mold themselves into what they believe is their Splinter’s ideal son - someone who embodies all the traits Splinter has explicitly shown to admire or value in a person.

Most of the time, they try to be a dutiful and honorable boy abiding by the full extent of ninjitsu teachings. Then you have Rise Splinter, who very much still has undeniable prowess in the art of fighting and being a ninja, but when it comes to how he shows his interests to his boys…one thing reigns supreme.

Acting. Shows. One liners. Flamboyance in the name of gaining an audience’s attention.

He showcases Lou Jitsu movies on repeat for the boys, passing down the morals and words from those movies to them with no small amount of pride. All while fully expecting them to respect these teachings.

So, of course, Rise Leo picks up on this. He’s a Leo, after all, as much a daddy’s boy as any other variation of him, only he clocked his father’s interests to be different than most others. He picks up on the art of showmanship, of keeping things to himself so as to be a more exciting twist later, of treating the world as a set to act in.

He’s an actor, not just because Splinter himself was one, but because Splinter likes acting and showed one particular actor (unknowingly to the boys, it was himself) as the pinnacle of all his teachings. As someone to value and admire. And even more than that - Splinter focuses on the character the actor is portraying rather than just the man himself.

And I think this is all even more interesting when taking the turtle tot short into consideration, because very, very briefly, just as with many times else throughout the series, we see how easily Rise Leo aligns with his other selves, seeming to pick up the sword easier than his brothers do their own weapons - after quoting Lou Jitsu of course. After emulating his idol - the person who his father seems to admire so much.

Point being, it’s so interesting to see how Leos tend to mold themselves in one particular way throughout every variation - that being, what their father is shown to value most in people.