About to block the Samira Mohan tag bc y'all can't have a civil discussion without wanting Robby to kill himself.
Yes, he's a dick to her this season and it's not right. No, that doesn't mean he should jump off the roof. Yes, it's sad Supriya is leaving. No, it does not mean Noah Wyle is a racist misogynist. Ofc if it continues to be a pattern that only POC leave, we can have that discussion. But with many other poc on the show and the highlighting of languages and countries, I don't think we're there yet.
Joy, Perlah, Princess, Victoria, Trinity, Baran, Lupe, Kim, Yolanda, Noelle, Parker, Nazely, and Emma still exist. They're all from diverse backgrounds with even more diverse actresses. Each character has a fully fleshed out background. They're people. Not just there for the sake of diversity.
Just because your favorite character leaves doesn't mean you get to be an asshole. If I did this shit because Kiara isn't mentioned/there then I would look like a fool. But if it's Mohan, who has been looking for a fellowship since s1, it's suddenly okay? Make it make sense.
Do not call me a Samira hater because of this. She's my girlie too. I understand her being slower and I agree with her being good for geriatrics (my mom is a geriatric nurse, I've worked Neuro with dementia patients and medsurg with geriatric hip replacements and surgical intervention). It's not about her not fitting in the ED. She's amazing at being a doctor. But the pace of being at a TRAUMA hospital isn't the pace she goes at. Maybe a smaller ER? A Level II-V? We can talk.
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I always forget there are maga people on tumblr, this doesn’t feel like a website you’d find them on, so to keep them away:
Reblog if your blog is a maga free zone because if it wasn’t clear enough fuck ice, fuck maga, fuck Trump, Fuck Rowling, and fuck all the other bigots I missed
it's funny how ready for irl drama the slipshods (as I like it call those who lack media literacy) of The Pitt fandom are they're basically manifesting it, thoughts? (I do mean them calling the writers racist and misogynistic for letting two woc go)
hmmm. it's interesting tbh who they're calling racist and misogynistic...because these are the writers:
the cast and writers are crammed full of women of colour and because two residencies have come to an end, there's uproar and chaos and people shouting at each other whilst supriya herself is out there not giving a damn, eating good food, and having the time of her life.
i've just learned as well that noah's ig comments are being spammed demanding the decision be u-turned on. on the post expressing grief for a long time friend:
i have no words to express my disgust. people are losing it. there's that expression of go out and touch grass but it's not enough. more like fucking log off and never ever come back.
Summary: After being sent on a strange errand by his employer Mr. Le Bail, The Lawyer realises the terms and conditions of his own contract may not be as cut and dry as they first seemed.
There are many reasons that one makes a deal with the devil.
Power. Fame. Wealth.
It’s usually a variation of those three.
And Mr. Le Bail he’s fastidious about who he offers his bargains to, selecting only the most interesting candidates to become part of his… organisation. The Lawyer, he doesn’t use the word cult. Mr. Le Bail finds the terminology demeaning and the last person who did… he’d had to throw away a perfectly good, tailored suit because he couldn’t get the brain matter out of it.
Which is why The Lawyer doesn’t understand why he’s here today, standing in an Oncology ward in New York with a contract tucked inside his leather folio at his employer’s request.
Normally there’s a summoning ceremony, a ritual or two followed by a blood sacrifice. That’s how the last two hundred of these have gone but instead he’s making an inhouse call with very little drama, theatrics or fanfare.
It’s unprecedented.
When he enters the hospital room, his gaze lingering on your hospital bed it’s clear you’re at death’s door. Your head is tilted away towards the window, the last golden rays of sunlight playing over your skin as the machine beats a low steady thrum throughout the room.
Dying is not new to The Lawyer but its usually done with violence and bloodshed.
This…
This is pitiful…
His handstitched Italian dress shoes clack on the tiles underneath his feet, drawing your attention as he steps over the threshold. Even in your dilapidated state, you’re beautiful. Your body may be broken but your soul, it burns so fucking brightly it almost blinds him.
That is what the devil wants, he thinks. This rare precious jewel to add to his collection.
But he’s wrong…
He doesn’t realise how wrong until after he’s sat down at your bedside and given you the amended spiel. Instead of riches and wealth it’s a cure for your illness, and you agree because the morphine it doesn’t touch the pain, not really.
He takes your hand gently in his, turning your palm upwards so he can prick your forefinger with the nib of the gold fountain pen. His thumb inadvertently traces along your heart line and that’s when he feels it, the slight sizzle of hellfire, the ruinous pull of the netherworld. He frowns tilting his head up to meet your gaze but those eyes, they just stare back at him, barely comprehending anything more than the parting of skin as he slices the pad of your finger. With the ink wetted, he curls your fingers around the pen. Your hand trembles with exertion but this part… it’s all on you. It has to be your choice, your signature.
Your arm falls back onto the matress once the paperwork is completed, the pen slipping from your grasp. He collects it from the sheets, a few droplets of blood staining them before he reviews the documentation.
It isn’t until he studies your signature that he puts the pieces together.
Lucille Cifer, a human rights lawyer.
Lu for short.
Lu Cifer.
Oh.
There have always been rumours that Mr. Le Bail had fathered a child. Too much coke during the eighties, his sources say. It had happened before throughout millennia but those children, they never survived the pregnancy. Devil’s blood, it corrupts everything it touches, eating away at the essence of innocence like… well exactly like cancer.
He raises to his feet, picking up the chart that hangs at the bottom of your bed.
Leukaemia.
A rare form they’ve never seen before.
This is why he was sent here, the devil’s daughter is finally coming home to her father. Mr. Le Bail just needed you to sign your humanity away first before he could claim the rest of you.
He sets the chart back onto the end of the bed, before gathering up his things in preparation for a hasty exit. He doesn’t need to stick around for the next part, the inevitable passing…
But he looks at you, eyes closed, breath rattling in the final throes and for some reason he just can’t bring himself to leave. He sets down his folio and takes up residence at your bedside one more. You tilt your head towards him, sensing his presence and for some obscene reason that even he can’t fathom, he reaches out, his fingers combing through your hair, tucking it behind your ear.
“Just let it happen.” He whispers, his thumb chasing over the apple of your cheek. “You don’t need to keep fighting.”
Your chest stops moving.
The machine flatlines.
And no one comes.
That’s the saddest part of this whole thing. You’ve spent your entire life fighting for other people but there’s no one there but him in the aftermath to lend you comfort.
There’s a deep inhale of breath.
Abrupt, sudden, the sound of someone starving for air.
His palm stays fixed to the side of your face, guiding your wild, roving eyes back to his. The panic subsides, your breathing evens and then something happens, something that even The Lawyer didn’t see coming.
A kiss…
The sweet tender brush of lips.
He pulls away, flinging himself away from you but the taste of brimstone is on his tongue and that need, it crackles inside of him like a wildfire as he stares at you, his fingertips tracing over his mouth.
His own bargain flashes before his eyes, the promise he made eons ago when Mr. Le Bail swept into his office and offered him the world.
“When the time comes, they’ll be a marriage. One you’ll be an integral part of. All I ask is that you fulfil your duties, nothing more, nothing less.”
It was such a small thing, such a trivial thing.
Stand in front of two people, have them recite their vows.
Now he realises just how ambiguous those words really are.
The truth behind what they really mean.
“I don’t know why I did that…” You whisper, echoing his motion bringing your own fingertips to your lips.
But he does…
It’s destiny, fate, the orchestrations of a being far more powerful than anyone on this earth could even imagine.
“It’s fine.” He says, stepping towards you, his heart beating like a jackhammer in his chest. His palms encompass your face, cradling it between his hands as he looks into your eyes. They burn with hellfire, the very flames of hell licking at his skin as you relax into him. “You don’t know me yet, but you will and I promise you, it’s all going to be fine.”
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taking a class on sex this semester which has resulted in many fun things like "sex activity" and "sex final" being added to my planner. being very mature and serious about this .
I had a class called "What is Evil?" The professor called us his "evil students" and I got to say things like: "I have evil class later." and "I have readings in evil to do." and "Well my evil professor said..."
[ID: tumblr reply on this post reading "my partner did a sociology degree and one of the modules was on organised crime. very funny to see stuff like "anyone doing organised crime this afternoon" in a uni groupchat"]
I had a class on Magic, Witchcraft, and Religion. You can imagine the joy I got out of saying “I have to study for my magic final” or “im off to magic class now”
I took a class called "The History of Secret Intelligence: From The Great Game to Five Eyes."
I thought I was going to learn about the real James Bond and all the shady stuff during the Cold War... I was surely mistaken, we are infact dummies, and will always be dummies.
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I just got stopped by one of my favorite charities through the shittiest way possible. It pissed me off so much that I am vetting it out right now.
Context: I live in Dayton, Ohio (blue dot in a red state), in a part of town where the job market is terrible and almost everyone is on assistance or paycheck to paycheck. (That includes my family.)
I was walking into Walmart for crafting tweezers. My Walmart has been terrible about third-party marketing companies coming into sell stuff. I try to avoid them but one of their guys was dressed up at a normal customer so I thought he was dealing with some unlucky s.o.b.
WRONG, we get stopped and guess what? It's DOCTORS WITHOUT BORDERS.
Don't get me wrong, I love their work and have donated in the past and today for that matter. (I'll explain later.)
So me and my brother get stopped and they begin with their cold and heartless marketing speil. Him CASUALLY talking about children dying and SA like it was a normal thing. He was also trying to relate to use regarding jobs, pets, hobbies, while casually handing his co-worker the iPad to take my brother's information.
My brother and I are bleeding hearts, and he is also on the spectrum, so he is a TARGET to these marketers as they make their money on commission based on how many sales/donations. As his partner is working on my brother, I take my phone out and go to the website myself and donate. At this current time I shouldn't have done it because I am living paycheck to paycheck, but I did to get them off my back.
They tried to sign up my brother to donate 50 dollars a month (he can't afford that, and neither can I.) I stepped in and shut down the conversation as soon as I get the donation on their office website completely. I showed the thank you for donation email and left with my brother. Their attuide switched up like I just called them a slur.
These Marketers are a problem in my area as many are rude and can't take a no and they people were no different. For their company to have a contract with D.W.O.B. was disgusting in my mouth.
I am writing this out not to say I am never donating again, nor and I calling out D.W.O.B. I am writing this to not only vent, but also say that Charaties should not make deals with these shitty marketing companies who will use dirty tricks to get people. Unfortunately these people might make the charity look like scam to the people in my area. It's just terrible and I needed to vent.
🌹 Where in the world does your OC feel most at home? Is there any reason why? If it’s not the place they were born, where were they born? Is there a certain somebody that makes them feel at home where ever they may be? What does home mean to them?
🍄 What are your OCs favourite snacks? Their favourite comfort food which always cheers them up when they’re down? Favourite meal to make? Do they enjoy baking and cooking and are they any good in the kitchen?
🍁 Where does your OC go when they need to have some time to themself? Would they ever have their own “comfort corner” filled with all the things they like? Do they have a favourite spot outside that feels like its theirs and theirs alone?
🍂 Does your OC enjoy hugs? What do they do as a show of affection for: their friends, their family, their significant other(s) or for strangers? Over all what are they like with recieving affection from others?
🌻 What little things do they notice about people or the world around them that make them happy? What tiny little treasures do they find in the normal every day that makes the world seem a little brighter for them?
🌾 Describe your OC through the eyes of someone absolutely head-over-heels in love with them
💐 How does your OC handle being unwell or forced to rest in bed? Who cares for them and in what ways? Does your OC enjoy being doted on or are they a terrible patient? Reversed: is your OC good at taking care of others who are ill or in need?
🌿 What way does your OC show that they care without using words? What way do others show your OC that they’re cared about without using speech?
🌳 What is your OC’s favourite way to relax after a stressful day? Do they have a favourite book to curl up with? A hobby? Or do they have a nice bubble bath and have an early night to bed?
🌲 How deeply does your OC feel? Are they typically empathetic or do they have a hard time connecting with others in this way? What are they like when offering support and comfort to someone they care for?
🌺 What does your OC do to calm down when they’re scared or after a nightmare? Do they have any special comfort items or need to be reassured by a specific person? How do they handle this if they’re alone?
🌸 What are some of their favourite things and why? List as many as you can think of!
🥀 How would your OC decorate a notebook or journal? What kind of things are written in there? Could you give an example of a nice entry?
🌼 Who are this characters friends and found family? How did they meet, how long have they been friends for, could they ever be something more than just friends? What do they look for in a friend or a romantic partner?
Questions for You!
💫What is your favourite fact about this character and why?
☄️ Does this OC deserve better treatment from you? Do you make them suffer just a little bit too much? Be nice to them!
🌠 On a scale of 1 - 10 how Baby is your OC? BONUS when asking this question rate the OC yourself as see if the reply matches up!!
💦 If you as the writer could erase one traumatic event from this OC’s life what would it be and why?
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Okay people I have been sitting on these feelings for a hot minute (aka since release date.) I have a crack theory that came to me while I was playing the Emergence level (I still feel uneasy thinking about the level. Y'all can tell me if it's the dumbest idea ever or something so funny, either way here I go.
I will put a spoiler warning just to be safe.
SPOILERS FOR CAMPAIGN OF BO6.
Here is my theory: Case is Adler's kid.
Here is my evidence:
1) Adler worked at the lab that Case was at, the same time Case was there.
2) Adler is very trusting of Case and can be seen joking, and even calling him kid (Assuming Case is in his 30s.)
3. Why would Adler's file showing the children part redacted? (It could be a nod to Harrow, but that some mental gymnastic.)
At the end of the day this was a theory that popped up in my head while I was screaming trying to get away from the zombies. If y'all enjoy it. I could flesh it out more, but I would love to hear opinions, even of yoy think it's stupid.
I just listened to the Bruce Thomas (Russell Adler's VA,) interview. It was honestly so refreshing to see this man give us Adler info in the context of him never playing the game. I figure I should share some of Bruce's ideas and opinions.
• He pictures Speed McQueen when he is in the booth.
• Bruce thought Adler having an Ex-wife was a lie, and was surprised to find out he possibly has kids.
• He does not know how Adler got his scar.
• LOVES his team, he has a deep connection with Sims.
• One of his favorite lines was "It was never Personal."
• Russell does not live with regrets and never sees what he does is wrong.
•Bruce/Adler has always seen Bell as a "player."
Important to note: Bruce loves the community and loves his fans deeply so he may not have all the answers to people's questions.
Apologies as I am still a newbie to tumblr posting and tags, but I figured it was worth a shot to help provide more details as the interview is still fresh in my head. (VenomSnake141 has a recording of it on Twitch!)
The topic of betrayal came up in the interview. The host was talking about how people were upset to see what Adler did to Bell so he asked Bruce if Bell had any last impact on Adler.
Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Bruce (who has never played the game,) said that Bell was just seen as a "player" / "the player." Raven might ret-con, but for now that is Bruce's thoughts.
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