The household of Dr Cards.

Most are surprised to find the doctor lives so secluded in the marshes, what secrets does he keep there? The truth is not far below the surface. The secret is his daughter,Clara, Sent from the surface by her mother due to her "unladylike" behaviour.

While her claims of singing from the marshlands and Visions of miracles are a source of some concern the doctor ensures she's well protected and cared for.

Rumours stick to the girls caretaker, miss Harpe, that say she used to be a vake hunter. Though most whispers follow the House's guardsman, A faceless fellow in ancient armour but with no lacking in its sword arm. are they dedicated to reenactment or did the doctor animate a suit of armor,or the bones of a long dead warrior, to ensure the safety of his constantly wandering child and the staff?

Theres a new mom and pop coffee shop in Gotham that's doing pretty well. The place has a casual playful vibe but it only ever has one employee, which has lead to it having a bit of a urban myth status.

He's there through all the opening hours and no one ever sees him come or go, only the lights switching off and the teen disappearing.

It probably doesn't help that the shop has a ghost themed name.

His name tag reads, "Nightingale" and he always has a polite smile, but the few who dare to act out in his shop notice his eyes flash a particular shade of green and are suddenly overcome with the feeling that they're being stared down by a large apex predator and a sickening sense of dread.

Needless to say people behave in his shop.

Whats more is that his store shows up on county records just fine, but if you try to look into anything your computer glitches out and you can't find anything. Obviously "Nightingale" can't be the owner, he looks only 15. Some say he's a vampire, others say he's a zombie like Red Hood.

Tim doesn't care what he is because the first time he entered at night as Red Robin the guy immediately started making a coffee were he could see, made it exactly how he liked it and gave it to him before he even had the chance to order. Then he refused his money, saying it was on the house.

None of the people waiting in line argued or were upset and Tim was unsure if that was because he was a well known Gotham vigilante or it Nightingales reputation protected him.

Either way the coffee was delicious.

Tim didn't know how to feel when he found out his family was investigating the "possible runaway" who worked at the coffee shop.

sokka gets offered the position of chief first because he’s the eldest and (let’s be real) hakoda’s favorite, but he immediately turns it down bc he has no idea why he’d even be offered that position in the first place when katara is right there. and katara is like “i should not be chief it is simply in my nature to rebel against all forms of authority but if I AM Authority then who am i supposed to rebel against now??? huh???” and sokka’s just like “idk. figure it out.” and eventually she relents, but also the second she “takes office” sokka starts micromanaging her every move the way he does with zuko and kuei and everyone in the white lotus, and katara is like “why did you even turn it down if you were just gonna be like this….” and sokka’s like “nooooo trust me. this is so much better. for both of us.” and eventually they learn to strike a balance where she actually takes his advice but also he trusts her to make good decisions on her own. so they’re basically co-running the swt in everything but name, but they’re also both very insistent that KATARA is chief and sokka is simply her second in command (because he knows that distinction is important to her, and he respects that). but then it leads to the kind of awkward situation where because he’s not officially chief of the swt, arnook approaches him and is like “hey i’m getting kinda old, and i don’t really have any official heirs…. can we just say that you married yue so that you can be chief of the nwt once i die???” and sokka’s just like “ummm let me think about that……… no <3”

together in every universe. or something

fuckin. i still wish will didnt actually have encephalitis and had a mental illness bc the way s1 frames the possibility of him having a mental illness as the Worst Possible Outcome is so infuriating. i have no idea how one would write diagnosed psychotic will graham to be not offensive and also keeping in line with the message of the show but god will being psychotic is actually not as bad as dying from brain inflammation believe it or not

i don't think it's enough to block someone and have their posts never show up on your dash. i think any post that they've immediately touched should be thrown away. like if someone i follow reblogs from them, then i simply do not want to see it and should not have to. the second their url touches my dash, it makes me feel like i have to have my dash fumigated like i'm walking past a smoker that just exhaled and i inhaled their entire puff of smoke i'm getting secondhand exposure out here i'm catching radiation poisoning the restraining order is not restraining like :///

The money I would pay for this.

Time knew he would never be able to understand all the new-fangled sayings and things that the youth said nowadays; especially given how much time he spent around the other Links without picking up a single term.

It came with being older in age (and era), he knew that. He could easily accept it because there was no shame.

He just can't help but wonder how you managed to keep up with the younger members. You were so close in age, and yet you had a much easier time understanding them.

(Were you his? From what he understood, you came from similar times.)

(He prays you are.)

Four and Sky, despite being “older,” even knew what words the younger generations used in their day-to-day lives.

“You're troubled.”

Time allows his eyes to wander from the conversing group that settled around the fire to his side. He was more than out of the way from the others, resting his aching back against a tree.

“What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head, letting his gaze move elsewhere so as to not let his hesitance show. “I’m fine. Your eyes deceive you.”

“My eyes deceive me?” Rather than offense, your voice mocked his own in amusement. “I’d be a fool to not see you sulk in this corner by your lonesome. I’ll ask again;” you hum, taking his hand into yours. “What troubles you?”

Time makes a vague gesture to the gossiping group, the tales of Wild’s experiences days after he woke up from his century-long sleep transitioning into Wind’s carefully spun stories of the seas to impress his older brothers.

“Their language is lost on me.”

“Lost on you?”

“Aye,” Time groans.

The laugh that bubbles out from your throat; Time has known (his) you long enough to know which ones you're able to hold back and which ones you can't.

He knows this is one of those laughs you can't stifle.

Time’s lungs clear at the sound. Whatever smoke and fog that previously cluttered them instantly dissipates into the air he breathed, the (not so) subtle of his brows undoing itself the few seconds it went on.

“They're not having an easy time either, you know,” you say.

The comment makes Time huff, his spine curling under the heavy weight of his armor when his muscles relax. “I know.” The leather and metal of his gauntlets creak around his fingers uncomfortably when he cracks his knuckles. “I know,” he reiterates.

“It’s always aye with you. Yes sir, no boy— you’re so formal.” Despite the discomfort of it, you lean onto his arm. “The only ones not intimidated by it are Twilight and Hyrule. Relax.”

“I am relaxed.”

Time ignores the way you stare down at the armor he wore.

The phantom warmth he felt emanating from your body leaves when you stand. He wants to reach out and bring you back beside him, but he doesn't believe he should be selfish when he looked so rigid and was seated so close to the others.

The desire grows when you stretch an arm behind his head and cup your hand around the back of his head, fingers scratching his scalp. His body feels akin to an open flame with you pull him forward and press a kiss to his forehead.

“Take your armor off and join us. Tell us that story of your ex-fiancée, yeah?”

Time is ashamed of how quickly he sheds his metal outer-casing, but he does as told like a dog receiving a bone.

the layout of the pilot pad was so much more comforting and cozy and colorful and welcoming and warm,,why did they choose that nasty grimy zero color washed out brutalist dump for the remainder of the show,,,

Dear monkee fans who consumw my content, when im talking about the monkees in my monkeeverse, PLEASE picture this warm and beautiful home for them, because that's what im gonna think of

I feel like if hospitals really insist on demasking then they should be required to have immunocompromised hours where anyone inside at that time is required to mask and they prioritize appointments with immunocompromised people

i feel like it's probably technically a good sign that i can't remember anything i wrote last year..... something about my brain functioning so differently with hydroxychloroquine that i can no longer access the space where all those stories live. (this is the positive possibility, anyway. the other possibility is just boring neurological damage.) i Do feel like a completely separate person with a completely new way of interfacing with the world, and all of that is wonderful and i wouldn't trade it for all the writing prowess on earth..... but it is also super inconvenient. because like. several of the stories i can't remember are WIPs that i would.... VERY MUCH.... LIKE TO FINISH.....??

& who asked you two to stand so close???

WHAT FUCKING HELLISH UPDATE IS THIS IT DOESNT GO AWAY EVEN WHEN I TURN THE SETTING OFF WHAT THE FUCK TUMBLR

They are actually making this app unusable I can't fucking believe they're pushing this it's just fucking pornbots and tumblr won't allow a stray titty or a post about trans people im so annoyed

Oh great it's THIS fuckhead. What the hell does HE want?

#1 I havent taken shit, she WILLINGLY came with me. And probably to get away from YOUR stupid ass.

#2 do you not remember what happened the last time you drew your sword at me?

Slap bitch.

That lil Hmmmmm.

YOU turned him into a ROSE and NOW you're thinking about giving it to belle? Like you weren't thinking about giving her something anyway. Women love flowers.

"Flowers, chocolates,promises you don't intend to keep"

like, ok. disco elysium is mostly about bigger things than personal morality, and it is too smart to be interested in asking whether kim and harry are "bad people," because people cannot be ontologically bad* even if being a cop is very close, and the distinction in itself is a carceral conceit, it's not worth talking about in any model worth talking about. and that's probably part of the point, and part of the point is that There Is No Ethical [PLAYTHROUGH OF DISCO ELYSIUM]; existing in a world like revachol, or ours, and getting to stay morally decent, let alone while in the kind of positions of power kim & harry inhabit, is impossible but more to the point it's also a dangerous fable. it is a dangerously incorrect way to approach the ideas that the narrative is offering you.

*or good!

& that said, insofar as disco has anything to say on personal morality, i think it's somewhere in the neighborhood of the next world mural:

it is too late for us, and it is also too late for these two mean-hearted cold-spirited, bullying old cops; we have seen too many ages of the world already, we have failed to rise too many times. it is too late for true love and it is too late for good men. it is too late to be forgiven. "you can never save anyone nor can you atone for your sins", &c, "you shall not go down twice to the same river, nor can you go home again."

WREAK HAVOC ON THE MIDDLE CLASS

it is too late to be good men. harry and kim are never going to be able to be good men, because you can't fix what they've each done to people, or the kind of trigger-happy control-hunger that leads them to bully and steal and coerce, or the various steam-kettle pressures (racialized, in kim's case) that pushed them to become these people (pressures which are unlikely to let up any time soon, either, and hence why it's so unconvincing to pretend they're ever going to stop being cops.) and yet, you know! and yet! you can't aim for "redemption" because it's a bankrupt concept, and you also cannot pretend that you can just walk away from any of these things; not in this world; maybe in the next, not in this one.

but that isn't a message of despair, any more than disco is ever doing a message of despair! be vigilant i love you. you can go home again, as long as you understand that home is a place where you have never been. kim and harry are really not the point although by definition it is true for them as well -- but IS THERE A CHANCE FOR THEM TO GET BETTER? is functionally equivalent to asking IS THERE A CHANCE FOR ANY OF US TO GET BETTER? or even more fundamentally WILL THE RETOUR EVER COME? and the only answer disco has for us on this front is, i don't know, well will it???

Sometimes it scares me how joyless people are willing to make themselves. We're all going to die with maybe a few years difference. Not eating carbs is just not eating carbs. Botox and injections aren't preventing aging. Live a happy life. Eat that chocolate bar you've been saving. Buy that weirdly specific scented candle. Embrace aging because you know you lived a real life instead of worrying about people percieving wrinkles or carbs or if your car was cool when you were in your 20s. Be happy with what makes you happy and live before you die.