#the kraken

[formulanni]

Power Play ⚓️

Tag list: @st-leclerc @rubywingsracing @saviour-of-lord @three-days-time @the-wall-is-my-goal @albonoooo @ch3rubd0lls @brawngp2009 @korolrezni-nikolai @d00dlespng

[celesmaxwell]

Whatcha been up to the last week or so, OFMD fans?

[oscarisaacsspit]

that was hot

[laurrelise]

will never stop loving the detail that diego has clear scars from knives that are simply never elaborated on or mentioned.

it’s so incredibly fitting for a guy who can throw knives who’s sort of reckless and also just establishes such a defining look for the character and i love him so badddd

[vlcimor]

[nefariousbee]

listen to the wind blow / watch the sun rise

[wordpress-blaze-244265687]

The Quiet Work of Healing

No one warns you how lonely healing can feel at first.

It doesn’t always arrive with a grand revelation or some cinematic release. Sometimes, it shows up in silence, in the space after a friendship ends, in the deep breath you take before choosing not to reach out again. It lingers in the quiet, asking you to sit with the truth you’ve known for a while: that not everyone gets to stay.

Over the last few years, I’ve let go of friendships I once thought would last forever. Some faded slowly, like steam lifting off a morning mug… unspoken, inevitable. Others ended sharply, severed by dishonesty, self-centeredness, or just the slow ache of being around people who took more than they gave.

At first, I was angry. Angry that I had shown up with my whole heart, only to realize some people had no intention of offering theirs. I kept replaying conversations, questioned my instincts, wondered how I missed the signs. I felt foolish. Hurt. Worn down by the weight of disappointment.

But slowly, gently, something softer settled in.

I began to see that not everyone is meant to come with you.

Everyone is fighting their own battles, walking their own path, and sometimes, that path didn’t align with mine. It doesn’t make them bad people, it simply means we were no longer the right fit for each other.

I’m 32 now and what I’ve learned is that sometimes, releasing those connections that don’t add value to your life is the most loving thing you can do for yourself and for them, allowing both people to continue growing in the directions you need to go.

And the beautiful thing is: I feel lighter.

I feel rooted.

I feel more myself.

These days, I am incredibly intentional about who I give my time and tenderness to. The friends I have now are the ones I’ve grown with… some for a decade, others since childhood. We hold space for one another without conditions. We listen. We show up. And that matters more than numbers or group chats or how many people are around.

That is the quiet work of healing.

Right now, I’m not chasing new connections. I’m pouring into myself. Into my marriage. Into the slow, quiet work of becoming the version of me I’ve always needed.

And in all of that stillness, writing has saved me more than once.

There is something sacred about putting pain on paper. Something powerful about naming what you feel without ever having to say it out loud. Writing gives shape to the mess. It allows me to process without performing, to be honest without interruption. It’s the only place where I don’t feel the need to soften my truth or make it palatable for someone else.

And then there are books… the kind that don’t just entertain you, they rearrange you. When I needed to feel seen, when I felt hollow or unsure, I escaped into the pages of stories that reminded me of my strength. I read words that mirrored my own thoughts back to me, only gentler. More forgiving. More whole.

One book that met me right in that space was The Mountain Is You by Brianna Wiest. I underlined whole paragraphs like prayers. But there’s one truth that has stayed with me more than any other:

“You are going to have to decide that you love yourself too much to keep settling for less than what you really deserve.”

And that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. Not all at once. Not loudly. But steadily.

I can’t point to one singular moment when I knew I was healing. It was more like a quiet unfolding. A growing awareness that I no longer felt obligated to stay in draining rooms. That I no longer needed to be validated to feel valuable.

It’s the choice to pick up a book instead of a phone.

To write your way through the ache rather than ignore it.

To stop proving your worth to people committed to misunderstanding it.

To create peace in your own life, even if it means leaving behind the noise of someone else’s.

It’s subtle. Soft. Often invisible from the outside.

But you’ll feel it.

In the friendships you protect.

In the boundaries you keep.

In the way you speak to yourself on a slow, ordinary morning.

It’s quiet work. But it’s everything.

And it’s yours.

Reflection: What would happen if you fully trusted your own peace and began letting go of the things that no longer serve you?

Source: The Quiet Work of Healing

[haunted-planes]

The kraken part 1

Introducing Dan, a Coast Guard vessel on his first day as a sheriff.

[lydiajoypalmer]

The Kraken 🐙

shop / sticker club

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

something that has bothered me about tua seasons 2-4 is the inconsistency of the relationships between the siblings.

starting with klaus, in season 1 ben and diego were his people. ben and klaus were always shown together in the flashbacks to them as kids and obviously every second of the show because klaus was the only one who could see him. but like… they were CLOSE. SO FUCKING CLOSE. they were the most SIBLINGS of all the siblings.

that continued into season 2. ben was randomly a bit colder towards klaus but they were still so fucking close.

and then ben left, and klaus for the first time was alone without his person. everyone else lost a brother when they were 17, except klaus. so he had to grieve ben for the first time. that didn’t happen, though. there were many nods to them being close, and then of course steve blackman pulled a steve blackman which means weird unnecessary incest implications, but it wasn’t clear just how close klaus and brellie ben were even though it had to be hard to be around someone who looked like ben and was kind of ben but also wasn’t ben.

and with diego, it also seemed like he and klaus were incredibly close. diego older-brothered klaus constantly s1 and they gave off the impression that they ran into each other a lot in the city during the years since leaving the academy.

then they completely disregarded it for the rest of the seasons. in s2 and s3 there a few interactions that could lend credence to this but for the most part it seemed like they threw it out the window.

allison and klaus had no clear relationship in season 1. they had some incredibly minor sibling interactions but nothing that indicated they were anywhere near as close as they imply in season 4. season 2 they were close and then season 3 not a lot of interaction. but s4 makes it seem like they have always been incredibly close which doesn’t make sense!!

five and viktor have a relatively consistent friendship, although s4 doesn’t really give viktor any relationship development with his siblings. same with five, if anything he just gets his relationships destroyed but that’s a different post!!

allison and viktor also are pretty consistently close. the implication is that they weren’t as kids but that they really try to be as adults, and i do like their relationship overall.

luther and allison nasty ew kill it with fire. like i thought we established in s2 that incest is weird actually and that we weren’t doing that and then season 3 came along and whatever whatever shut up.

diego and luther’s relationship is fun. they go from adversaries to himbo besties and it’s relatively consistent.

luther and viktor have similar growth. luther goes from piece of shit basically causing the apocalypse s1 because of how shitty he was to viktor towards really wanting to make things right and being the big brother he always should have been. they didn’t really have a relationship s4 but WHATEVER.

i feel like five and luther were together a lot the first two seasons and that very much changed. i’m not even that upset as i think five having character arcs with each sibling is good since he missed so many years with them (other than him and viktor they were always close and should have remained that way).

i think allison and diego and viktor and diego having relationship development would have been cool. in the comics viktor and diego have a band so we know they’re friends. and in the show allison and diego don’t have too many interactions but the ones they do have are SOOOO SIBLING and i adore that.

ben and viktor have some closeness s3-4 (and the end of s2) but it’s not really something we see, more so we’re just told. and then random flashback to them hanging out as kids before the mission which was confusing.

i think five and klaus were done the dirtiest with the relationship inconsistency. i understand wanting different characters to have arcs with different people, but when you sacrifice the established relationships and basically put your characters on shuffle then you also sacrifice character consistency, development, growth, etc.

i think a big problem is how many characters they brought on last season. there wasn’t time for consistent relationships among the brellies when they had to use a shit ton of time building new characters and relationships (and immediately killing them all off which was A Choice).

anyway just wanted to write out thoughts about this. would love to know other people’s thoughts (or headcanons about the siblings).

[rainbowpopeworld]

[cupcakeshakesnake]

Miscellaneous AU dump.

First drawing is a reference to this.

[aha-my-villainous-thoughts]

🐙 The Kraken's Hands 🐙

(Details of a larger piece)

[devilray-soy]

A wip actually posted on a Wednesday? Unheard of

This is where the painting’s at these days. Painting with just reds is hard guys (gn)

[horrorfemme1138]

Day 18: Storm

[temporal-discounting]

Just musing on the importance of that devastating shot of Ed sobbing in the bed nook at the end of S1.

That was our wonderful show looking us in the eye and saying 'all hope is not lost. The Ed you have come to know and love is still in here, and he will come back.'

Just think how different the ending of s1 would have felt without that shot - if the last we saw of Ed before the (84 year) hiatus was of him in full-on dead-eyed Kraken mode. Very glad they didn't do that to us.

[wordpress-blaze-244265687]

The Quiet Work of Healing

No one warns you how lonely healing can feel at first.

It doesn’t always arrive with a grand revelation or some cinematic release. Sometimes, it shows up in silence, in the space after a friendship ends, in the deep breath you take before choosing not to reach out again. It lingers in the quiet, asking you to sit with the truth you’ve known for a while: that not everyone gets to stay.

Over the last few years, I’ve let go of friendships I once thought would last forever. Some faded slowly, like steam lifting off a morning mug… unspoken, inevitable. Others ended sharply, severed by dishonesty, self-centeredness, or just the slow ache of being around people who took more than they gave.

At first, I was angry. Angry that I had shown up with my whole heart, only to realize some people had no intention of offering theirs. I kept replaying conversations, questioned my instincts, wondered how I missed the signs. I felt foolish. Hurt. Worn down by the weight of disappointment.

But slowly, gently, something softer settled in.

I began to see that not everyone is meant to come with you.

Everyone is fighting their own battles, walking their own path, and sometimes, that path didn’t align with mine. It doesn’t make them bad people, it simply means we were no longer the right fit for each other.

I’m 32 now and what I’ve learned is that sometimes, releasing those connections that don’t add value to your life is the most loving thing you can do for yourself and for them, allowing both people to continue growing in the directions you need to go.

And the beautiful thing is: I feel lighter.

I feel rooted.

I feel more myself.

These days, I am incredibly intentional about who I give my time and tenderness to. The friends I have now are the ones I’ve grown with… some for a decade, others since childhood. We hold space for one another without conditions. We listen. We show up. And that matters more than numbers or group chats or how many people are around.

That is the quiet work of healing.

Right now, I’m not chasing new connections. I’m pouring into myself. Into my marriage. Into the slow, quiet work of becoming the version of me I’ve always needed.

And in all of that stillness, writing has saved me more than once.

There is something sacred about putting pain on paper. Something powerful about naming what you feel without ever having to say it out loud. Writing gives shape to the mess. It allows me to process without performing, to be honest without interruption. It’s the only place where I don’t feel the need to soften my truth or make it palatable for someone else.

And then there are books… the kind that don’t just entertain you, they rearrange you. When I needed to feel seen, when I felt hollow or unsure, I escaped into the pages of stories that reminded me of my strength. I read words that mirrored my own thoughts back to me, only gentler. More forgiving. More whole.

One book that met me right in that space was The Mountain Is You by Brianna Wiest. I underlined whole paragraphs like prayers. But there’s one truth that has stayed with me more than any other:

“You are going to have to decide that you love yourself too much to keep settling for less than what you really deserve.”

And that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. Not all at once. Not loudly. But steadily.

I can’t point to one singular moment when I knew I was healing. It was more like a quiet unfolding. A growing awareness that I no longer felt obligated to stay in draining rooms. That I no longer needed to be validated to feel valuable.

It’s the choice to pick up a book instead of a phone.

To write your way through the ache rather than ignore it.

To stop proving your worth to people committed to misunderstanding it.

To create peace in your own life, even if it means leaving behind the noise of someone else’s.

It’s subtle. Soft. Often invisible from the outside.

But you’ll feel it.

In the friendships you protect.

In the boundaries you keep.

In the way you speak to yourself on a slow, ordinary morning.

It’s quiet work. But it’s everything.

And it’s yours.

Reflection: What would happen if you fully trusted your own peace and began letting go of the things that no longer serve you?

Source: The Quiet Work of Healing