#Nursing Madonna

[koredzas]

Defendente Ferreri - Nursing Madonna. 1530

[nsfwbible]

Virgin in Front of a Fire Screen

The painting, made around 1440 and attributed to a follower of Robert Campin, defied standards for virgin-and-child iconography: Milk drips from the virgin’s blue-veined breast, which she presents to the viewer instead of her son.

“Such unabashed emphasis on Mary’s nipple is unknown in Italian representations of the same topic,” historian Jutta Sperling notes. “Both before and after their ‘naturalistic’ metamorphosis in the late fifteenth century, Italian versions of the iconography usually portray the Christ Child in the act of suckling rather than the Virgin in the act of baring her breast to the viewer. By contrast, later Flemish artists ... would replicate Campin’s follower’s focus on her nipple and the peculiar address that results from it.”

The Christ child’s genitals are clearly visible under the Virgin’s left hand, perhaps meant to remind viewers that this son of God is human after all.

Shown here is a detail from a public domain photograph of the painting accessed at Wikimedia Commons.

[artschoolglasses]

Nursing Madonna, Defendente Ferrari, 1505-11

[slackerb1tch]

Self Portrait/Pervert (1994), followed by Self Portrait/Nursing (2004) both by Catherine Opie.

i have been deeply obsessed with catherine’s work for a minute now, but these two images in particular, side by side, keep echoing in my head the past few days. the more i look and think about them the more i love them. the scarring in the second piece!!! just wow!!! the way that the passage of time is reflected on the body is a huge point of interest for me right now. the blurring of the tattoo, the scarring providing a thread of connection to a former self. the madonna and the whore and what lies in between. one day i will feel more eloquent and write pages and pages about this set of images…but until then i have to at least share them with the void to satisfy myself a tiny bit.

[sarahsinferno]

from the mother

to the fragile, dreaming child.

motherhood is the quiet incantation woven through the fabric of existence, a tapestry stitched with patience and boundless love. the mystic bond is an unspoken vow, a constellation of warmth that defies the cold distance between the finite and the infinite.

in every touch, every glance, a spell is cast, simple and profound, binding the ephemeral to the eternal, where love breathes, a quiet, miraculous force, enveloping all that is small and precious in its embrace.

this is the magic of creation, the alchemy of life, transformed in the quiet act of giving, a boundless journey from the first fluttering heartbeat to the uncharted horizons of tomorrow’s dreams.

S.T. 2019

madonna + child photographed by maria theresa meloni

photograph by lisa sorgini

young mother nursing her child by mary cassatt(1906)

mother and child by leon bazile perrault(1894)

seymour joseph guy(1824-1910)

stephen pan(1963)

goodnight 2 by arthur john elsley

mother and child taken by nell dorr (1940)

photographs of tasha tudor and her children

[afewproblems]

Give me Steve, Eddie, and Robin at a bar on a Friday night.

They've had a few drinks, and a shot or two when a song comes on, and Steve immediately jumps to his feet with an, "Oh shit!!"

It's Madonna's Get Into the Groove and for a moment Robin and Eddie think Steve is in pain, that he hates the song as is going to ask the DJ to change it.

Except Steve waltzes onto the dance floor, right into the center.

There aren't too many others dancing, it's early still, barely nine in the evening but the spot lights are on and the DJ flicks on the multicolor strobe as Steve parks himself on the dance floor.

Robin laughs and wishes she had brought the disposable camera instead of leaving it in her junk drawer at home.

Eddie meanwhile rolls his eyes, and pretends not to notice the tightness of Steve's jeans or how the light catches the flecks of gold in his hair and eyes.

He's been attempting to hide his pathetic little crush for awhile now, complaining to Robin every chance he gets when Steve does something particularly charming or handsome.

She tells him, as sagely as she can muster, to grow a pair and do something about it already.

But how can he, Steve was, well, Steve...lovely caring, hot as hell, Steve.

What chance did Eddie have?

So he sits there, miserable, nursing his beer, letting his eyes trail after Steve while Robin giggles beside him.

They've never seen him dance, it's bar, they're drunk, the worst that could happen is he makes an ass out of himself and they all go home with a great new story to tell the party later.

God Robin really wishes she brought her camera with her.

But then Steve is moving and he's fluid, never missing a beat. It's some kind of choreography, intentional and practiced movements that wouldn't be out of place in a music video. Eddie and Robin look at each other because, what the fuck, where did this come from??

And people are cheering and whooping, strangers scattered here and there sitting off of the dance floor. There's a sense of comradery, like they're all witness to something and being allowed to share and indulge in this little impromptu performance, but all too soon the song is over and Steve heads back to his seat with a small round of applause and a blinding smile pulling at his flushed cheeks.

"Steve, what the fuck was that??" Robin blurts out before Steve can even sit. Eddie nods, a little dazed, beside her and tears at the paper label on his beer bottle, maybe if he can keep his hands occupied he can keep them to himself.

"What was what?" Steve breathes out as he hops onto the stool beside them, Robin in the middle.

Robin's mouth falls open as her face scrunches into something exasperated but fond, "What was--that! The dancing!"

"Oh, that," Steve huffs with a lazy smile, he leans his elbow on the sticky wood bar and waves at the bartender to signal for another gin and tonic, "I used to help Carol with her choreography for cheer".

Eddie pinches his thigh below the bartop and chews the inside of his cheek as the image of Steve in the Hawkins High cheer uniform begins to solidify in his minds eye, fuck.

Robin elbows Eddie without looking, somehow reading his mind, and throws her hands out, beckoning Steve to continue because that isn't nearly enough information.

"Yeah, she'd come up with routines and you know, they are meant to be done with more than one person, and I mean she and I were friends before Tommy so," he shrugs and smiles at the bartender as they pass him the drink, "I dunno, it was fun, and I remember that one the most".

"Plus," he says with a smirk, "Carol always said the best thing about dance is that you can tell who appreciates the performance and who appreciates the person doing it," he winks as Robin scoffs and calls him gross, but Steve isn't looking at Robin.

Eddie swallows as molten heat creeps up his neck and over his ears, the urge to hide his face, run for the door, melt into the floor, is immense.

But Steve doesn't move his gaze, he smiles softly at Eddie and winks again over Robin's head which she promptly drops into her hands.

"I'm surrounded by horny idiots," she grumbles but the words are muffled in the din of the bar and her own hands as Steve tips his head back to the dance floor and holds out his hand for Eddie to take.

[hairmetal666]

Steve

Asking Eddie to move to Indy with him and Robin is the most natural thing in the world. After Vecna they became SteveandRobinandEddie, so it just made sense to live together.

Everything is perfect.

It changes one night, at their favorite gay bar. He and Eddie nurse a couple of beers at a hightop, while Robin dances with a cute blonde. Steve half-heartedly shimmies along to the Madonna song pumping through the speakers. Eddie watches him vamp to Material Girl with a look in his dark eyes that Steve can't quite read. It's not the usual fondness he's used to from his friend; too dark and too serious. It makes him nervous.

Eddie drains his drink, mouths the word "bathroom," at Steve, then disappears in the crowd.

Steve sips his own beer, letting his attention drift until he finds Robin, still dancing with the blonde, looking like she's having the time of her life. He expects Eddie back at any time, only--ten, fifteen minutes pass with no sign of him.

His eyes start scanning the crowd in earnest, desperately seeking familiar leather and denim and long dark hair. Anxiety builds in his chest, a dull sizzle beneath his skin.

He finally spots a set of leather-clad broad shoulders towards the back of the room. Eddie has one hand braced against the brick wall, pressed up nice and close to someone Steve can't quite make out.

There's bile in Steve's throat, nausea clenching at his stomach. He shouldn't look; he can't tear his eyes away.

The person is revealed in a flash of light from the dance floor. He has an All-American jaw, swoopy dark blond hair, and is wearing a grass green sweater. The closest thing to Indiana golden boy in the place, second only to Steve.

Room suddenly spinning, Steve struggles to catch his breath, but gives up entirely as Eddie closes the remaining distance between himself and the mystery man, sealing their lips in a searing kiss.

Steve watches, feels himself breaking apart piece by piece. He thought--he thought they were something. Becoming something. All their late night talks and casual touches. He'd been working up the courage to make a move for weeks, and now--

Maybe it's a mistake. Maybe Eddie breaks the embrace and gives an embarrassed chuckle before he comes back to Steve, only he doesn't. The kiss ends, sure, but then Eddie is taking the guy's hand, leading him down the hall towards the bathrooms.

Hands clutched in his hair, Steve sinks into a crouch. He pants, huffing like he just ran sprints, can't catch his breath. Tears dance at his lash line, threatening to fall. He can't have a panic attack now, here. Doesn't want Robin to see; doesn't want Eddie--

It's all too small, too tight, too loud, and Steve shoves his way outside. He rounds the building before sinking to the ground, hands shaking.

He waits outside until Robin and Eddie emerge from the club, both flushed and sweaty. He doesn't speak to either of them and they spend the drive in silence.

When they get home, he goes straight to his bedroom.

"Ste--" Robin calls, but he lets the door shut behind him. He doesn't think it slams.

Eddie

Steve hasn't spoken to him in weeks. Not since that night at the bar. When Eddie hooked up with a guy and he's pretty sure Steve knows; pretty sure it's why they're no longer on speaking terms. Eddie keeps meaning to confront him. He really does. It's just--it'll change everything, and his life was finally going okay for once.

He reaches his limit when he joins Steve in the kitchen before work, and the guy literally, visibly flinches away from him. It hits Eddie like being punched in the dick.

"What the fuck, Harrington." Eddie's voice is too loud in the small space.

"S-sorry, I'll just get out of your way." Steve's eyes don't stray from his own hands.

"I hook up with one guy and now can't even bear to touch me?"

"What? Eds that's not--"

"Don't lie to my fucking face."

"I wouldn't. Eddie, please--"

"I can't believe that this is the last vestige of King Steve. Can say you're cool with me, but when you see me do gay shit, you can't hang? Fuck you. I'm done. I'll be gone by the weekend." His voice stays remarkably steady, even though he's pretty sure not even the bat bites hurt this much.

"Christ, Munson, I'm not freaked out cause I saw you do 'gay shit.' I don't care." Steve's looking at him now; his little mouth held tight and mad.

"Like hell you don't. You haven't spoken to me since it happened."

"Not because I'm homophobic, asshole."

That makes Eddie laugh, shrill and mean. "Oh yeah? Then why."

"It doesn't matter." Steve yanks his hand through his hair.

"It does to me."

"Just drop it. You don't have to move out. I don't care who you fuck."

"You can barely stand to look at me!" Eddie shouts; doesn't mean to. "What if I bring someone home, huh? How are you gonna cope with that, knowing I'm fucking a guy in the next room?"

"It should have been me," Steve screams.

Neither of them move in the ringing silence that follows. Eddie's throat is tight.

"Wh-what?" He manages.

"Forget it." Steve turns to go. "Just--forget I said anything."

"Steve." Eddie follows him into their living room. His heart's beating all funny. "What do you mean?"

"It's nothing," Steve's face is leached of color; his eyes too bright.

"Please? I want to understand."

Steve laughs a little, looks absolutely miserable. "I saw you. With the guy. And he...he looked like me, right? And I don't understand why I'm not good enough."

Eddie swallows hard. "You don't--you're not--I didn't think you were a choice. For me."

Steve's chin drops, anywhere but on Eddie. "Yeah. Well. Surprise." He doe a pathetic flourish with his hands that clenches at Eddie's heart.

"Ah," is all Eddie can manage. The world is shifting under his feet, tectonic plates realigning as he processes Steve's words.

"It's--it's fine that you don't feel the same way. Just because you're gay doesn't mean you have to like me, and I--I was trying to get over it. I didn't want to--"

Eddie can't stand to listen to another word. He crosses the distance to Steve. "Shh, sweetheart. It's--just. Stop okay?"

Steve is looking up at him now, doe eyes wide.

He laughs, genuine this time. "Stevie. I've had a crush on you for years. Years. I used to make the guys go with me to Starcourt. I told them it was because I liked seeing King Steve laid low. Really I just liked how you looked in those little shorts." Steve giggles, face blushing such a pretty pink Eddie almost forgets what he's saying.

"It only got worse when I met the kids, with how much they talked about you. And then I met you for real? Pssh," Eddie waves his hand in the air. "Gone. No hope for Eddie Munson when you're--you're so pretty and bitchy and brave and hot, Steve, and I'm the weakest man in Indiana.

"That night. That guy. It was--I'd just overheard you and Robin talking about a cute girl, and I realized that I had to stop doing that to myself, pining over a straight guy who could never see me like I wanted. I decided that I'd try to pick someone up, force myself to see you just as a best friend."

Steve's face falls impassive. "Did it work?" He almost whispers.

"Not even close, baby," Eddie whispers back. "I'm hopeless for you."

[makeyoumine69]

Till Death Do Us Part Masterlist 🪓 | Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader Series

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader; [no y/n]

— SYNOPSIS: 1987. Your name is Rebecca Rice, you were born in Houston, Texas, but then your family moved to New York City in hopes of a better life. And it really paid off, as your father became successful in business and made several important acquisitions—the Bateman family being one of them. You and Patrick have known each other since childhood, but you have never liked each other. A golden boy from day one, he despised you because you were not as rich as he was. Fortunately, you parted ways after high school and have seen each other several times over the years, as your mother has a good relationship with Mrs. Bateman. At some point, you even thought that your teenage crush on Patrick had faded and you finally managed to build relationships with another guy, but sadly, it didn't work out because your family didn't accept him. Just like they didn't like your choice of career, but you didn't care because you always wanted to work in the medical field and help people, being a nurse was really tough. The hardest times came when one day your mother told you that in order to help your father you had to marry Patrick Bateman and you had no other choice because you didn't even know what was behind this deal, but you promised yourself that one day you would find the answers to all your questions. If you survived this marriage, of course. For it was obvious that sooner or later everyone would expect you to bring an heir into this world. The world of corruption and sin.

— CONTAINS: SMUT, ARRANGED MARRIAGE, enemies to lovers dynamics, dark explicit sexual content, drugging, breeding, misogyny, degradation, objectification, etc.

— A/N: This is my secret writing project that I've been working on all this time with one of my good friends. I couldn't stop thinking about the concept of an arranged marriage since I wrote Obsession. So I decided to make an experiment and write a story with a reader, but without y/n, who has an established background and name. I hope it works out and you will enjoy experiencing this story through Rebecca's eyes!

Amazing cover by @iron-flavored-lipgloss!💋

Chapter one — 02/07/2024

Chapter two — 05/07/2024

Chapter three — 10/07/2024

Chapter four — 13/07/2024

Chapter five — 24/07/2024

Chapter six — 03/08/2024

Chapter seven — 05/08/2024

Chapter eight — 09/08/2024

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Related songs:

Kim Wilde — You Keep Me Hangin’ On

 Stevie Nicks — Edge of Seventeen

 Britney Spears — Criminal

Stevie Wonder—Part-Time Lover

Sade—Smooth Operator

Roxette—Listen to Your Heart

Laura Branigan—Self Control

Modern Talking—Cheri Cheri Lady

Pet Shop Boys—It’s a Sin

Miley Cyrus—Gimme What I Want

Pastel Ghost—Shadows (Slowed Version)

Britney Spears—Break The Ice

Katy Perry—E.T.

Madonna—Like a Prayer

Cascada—Everytime We Touch (Acoustic)

Thank you for your time!🖤✌

[nerdyweebfreak]

songs for ⁀➴ cultleader! Suguru Geto ⋆⭒˚.⋆

a compilation of songs that remind me of him ~

please remember that this is my personal interpretation of him and his personality, may not be completely canon at times! ♡

One Of The Girls — The Weeknd | the OG one.

THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND — Bad Omens | the breathiness of the singer's voice, the lyrics.. it feels very hazy and engaging.

Popular — The Weeknd, Playboy Carti, Madonna | i believe it's the cockiness of this song that does it for me.

Feel It — Michele Morrone | i dont like the movie it's from, however.. this.. song...

Slow down — Chase Atlantic | this song feels like having some kind of secret affaid with him.

Bathroom — Montell Fish | speechless.

I can't do this — K3NT4! | he literally feels like this song..

Rodeo (Remix) — Lah Pat | i feel like actually riding him with this on would be dreamy..

Sonne (Slowed) — Rammstein | it's just the power of this song.

Nurse's Office — Melanie Martinez | feels just as sketchy as he does...

so yeah this is my personal list, i might update/add to this !

i should definitely try to draw some concepts using these as a prompt ♡

[nsfwbible]

Bambino Lactans

Netherlandish artist Jan Gossaert made many paintings on the theme of the “madonna lactans,” or nursing madonna. This one, from around 1525, shows the baby Jesus with swollen breasts — as if he wanted to take over his mother’s role of lactating.

Modern scholars have suggested that Gossaert wanted to represent Christ’s motherly role of loving, feeding and saving humankind. 

But the painting’s “peculiar erotic charge — enhanced by the abundance of folds produced by Mary’s garments and the tactile appeal of the infant’s podgy body — makes the modern viewer wonder, again, whether the image was fit for prayer and worship,” historian Jutta Sperling observes.

Sperling wonders if Gossaert’s  “almost-lactating infant Jesus might have been a satirical response to and adaptation of Erasmus’s biting critique of the worship of the lactating Virgin and her milk relics.”

The image here is a detail from the original oil on oak panel in the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna.

[johannestevans]

it's interesting watching films about institutional abuses inflicted by the catholic church, bc there's a balance of like. the understanding that bc nuns are seen as sexually untouchable, there's often an obsession with their lack of sexual availability in film and literature

a nun being sexually unavailable is often responded to within the male gaze under the traditional binary of like. either virgin or whore dichotomy - either she is treated as a temptress beyond measure, a slut under her vestments, a horny fantasy OR…

she is treated as untouchable - but despite literally being in nun's vestments like. she is very much not a madonna. she is often not treated as maternal, but instead as a cruel spinster, evil, frustrated, cruel

nuns are often figured and calculated as like, scheming and treacherous in a contrast to the way that priests are presented, with this idea that because they're women, they're just inherently crueller than men, and priests ofc just want to be kind

it's interesting when you see this in adaptations of institutional abuse where the abject and obvious cruelty of nuns is contrasted with priests' kindness, and the idea that like. priests were kind because they wanted to sexually abuse their charges, which ofc, those nuns didn't (!)

that nun could literally have just stripped a child naked and attacked their genitals, but this is treated as non-sexual (because women don't feel sexual desire), whereas any touch from the priest anywhere on the body is loaded with sexual intent (because men ONLY feel desire)

and like i said like. some of this is ultimately misogynistic reproach of a woman who is not only sexually unavailable, but also has more power, autonomy, and agency than an average woman, especially in period pieces

but also it's. real. it's not just misogyny. many women have always become nuns because what they wanted was power over vulnerable people - it's the same reason any abusive people are drawn to becoming cops or doctors or nurses or teachers, bc abusers like authority

sure, some nuns absolutely joined the novitiate bc they were drawn by their faith or to escape general misogyny in society, but esp in pieces that grapple with colonial outreaches of cultural control and genocide with the catholic church, like. they're violently white supremacist

the whole outreach of the church was (and is today) in this sort of abusive conversion schooling is of course inherently violent, but without becoming the matriarch of a family - smth that has to do with luck and leveraging social status within family lines - you didn't have like

this level of unfettered access, control over, and free reign to abuse the vulnerable as you pleased. especially given how many nuns were stationed in schools, orphanages, and hospitals, like. ofc that would have been attractive for an abuser

and idk like. in most of society there is a desire to reform or rehabilitate the image of white women in regards to the violence of white supremacy - people often station the husband or patriarch as violently white supremacist and racist, but his wife/female relatives as less so

their racism is inherently made out to be less violent, more well-meaning, coming simply from lack of education or exposure, from naivety

and this is like. misogyny 101 and also white women's tears 101

the same naivety is rarely applied to the violence of nuns

but at the same time like. it sometimes in film feels as if it's being treated as like. a natural tendency of women in positions of power to be cruel

rather than the fact that in our patriarchal society, cruelty and punishment of social lessers benefits women's social mobility

and that in centuries past particularly, women who were especially condemnatory or punitive to other women, esp fallen women, and in this case like. brown and indigenous children, children of colour, children speaking minority languages or from minoritised non-catholic cultures

could benefit from that power and fear within the institutions in which they functioned, and did pretty happily and without any guilt.

and none of them will ever be fuckin prosecuted, a bunch of them today are either still working or happily retired. agony to them all.

[allegras-sunflower]

RIP Ana Clara Benevides. ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🤎🖤🤍💖

I have read alot of people posts how disappointed they were with the situation.

Like that one Reddit post on swiftlyneutral. I can't post the link. But the title says:

What are your thoughts on what happened at the Eras tour in Brazil? Do you even know about it?

The post is very recent.

And couldn't Taylor Swift do something before the show? Didn't she know the heat? That fans weren't allowed to bring water in it? What would she have risked if she cancelled the show? A fine? She can pay for it. Disappointed fans? Better than dead fans.

I remember watching a youtube video of Michael Jackson when he got his Hollywoodstar and he made an appearance. There was a huge crowd and people were pushing eachother, some got hurt. He left after a short time. One fan voiced his disappointment that he only shown up for like few seconds or minutes and left. But looking back it was good that he left that none of them got seriously injured. He also got parademics at his shows because people were passing out.

Or Madonna who had a concert just recently in front of like 1.6million people. I don't hear anybody dying. ? And for such a large amount of people at one spot. There sure had to be safety measurement taken before the show.

When a fan of Rihanna died. Not at her show. Rihanna paid for the funeral.

Does Taylor Swift really care about her fans? Or does she care more about how her fans view her? And as an artist isn't it her responsibility that her fans are save at her show? Of course she can't stop any inconvience. But extreme heat is literally something she could have known days before!

This whole thing felt like Taylor didn't really care about Ana. She can't be the music industry the biggest superstar in the whole world but be a helpless little girl who is used by her concert promoters and can't even decrease ticket prices.

And Taylor made this parasocial relationship with her fans. So she atleast should have cared more. Or showed that she cared. It seems like she only sees her fans as numbers.

There was another show, in Buenos Aires, right before the show were Ana Clara died, that TS had to cancel too because of a storm. Now, due to the subtropical climate, storms in Buenos Aires can be quite strong and dangerous. The fans, most of them underage girls, stood in line under the electrical storm up until the time the venue doors were supposed to open. Then and only then, TS announced (mind you, half an hour after the city government did) that the show would be rescheduled. So what happened in Río after was not an isolated incident, TS had a bit of a pattern endangering her fans.

Now, I talked extensively about Ana Clara's death in this blog, and I don't wanna repeat myself and become annoying for it. But for those of you who don't know, my family on my dad's side is Brazilian, my own grandmother has been badly hit by the floods going on in the south, my little sister went to the show after Ana Clara's death. That's why TS's mistreatment of Brazilian fans and fans of color in general hurts SO FUCKING MUCH. Because it's fucking personal. I did not only felt heartbroken because of what happened to Ana Clara, it was absolutely devastating. I know it was just a footnote on the international news, but not here. Here we read the declaration of the young nurse that kept on the CPR maneuvers for over an hour because they refused to let Ana Clara die. We read the statement of Ana Clara's family denying TS or her team had reached out to them when the news were starting to say TS was in talks with them. We KNOW TS's team didn't pay for ANYTHING and didn't reach out to them until over a week later. We saw it all go down on real time, my little sister was certain TS would make a moment of silence for Ana Clara only to be let down when she rushed the show so not even the people attending could do one.

So, let this be your confirmation. Taylor Swift does NOT care about her fans. At least not about her fans of color.

Please, never stop talking about Ana Clara Benevides Machado. Never stop sharing her picture. And never forget that, if you're a POC, TS doesn't care about you. Not even if you're a VIP ticket holder, like Ana Clara was.

[ripempezardexerox]

Dices Merzbow, yo digo Justin Beiber

Dices Boredoms, yo digo Katy Perry

Dices Gerogerigegege, yo digo Skrillex

Dices Coil, yo digo Lady Gaga

Dices Throbbing Gristle, yo digo Black Eyed Peas

Dices Whitehouse, yo digo Taylor Swift

Dices Nurse With Wound, yo digo Bruno Mars

Dices Einstürzende Neubauten, yo digo Maroon 5

Dices Brainbombs, yo digo Drake

Dices Egor Letov, yo digo One Direction

Dices Death in June, yo digo LMFAO

Dices Current 93, yo digo Beyonce

Dices La Monte Young, yo digo Carly Rae Jepsen

Dices Moondog, yo digo Kelly Clarkson

Dices Lou Harrison, yo digo Coldplay

Dices Henry Cowell, yo digo PSY

Dices Luigi Russolo, yo digo Imagine Dragons

Dices Popol Vuh, yo digo Lana Del Ray

Dices Fishmans, yo digo Ellie Goulding

Dices Jean Jacques Perrey, yo digo P!nk

Dices Les Rallizes Dénudés, yo digo Owl City

Dices Rainbow Caroliner, yo digo Carrie Underwood

Dices Taj Mahal Travellers, yo digo Christina Aguilera

Dices Fushitsusha, yo digo Ariana Grande

Dices Peter Brötzmann, yo digo Rihanna

Dices John Cage, yo digo Jennifer Lopez

Dices Scott Walker, yo digo Ed Sheeran

Dices Unwound, yo digo Mumford & Sons

Dices Dead, yo digo Tyga

Dices Frank Zappa, yo digo Shakira

Dices Morton Feldman, yo digo Macklemore

Dices Captain Beefheart, yo digo Big Time Rush

Dices Pharoah Sanders, yo digo Akon

Dices Albert Ayler, yo digo Foster the People

Dices Ornette Coleman, yo digo The Weeknd

Dices Alice Coltrane, yo digo Panic! at the Disco

Dices Arnold Schoenberg, yo digo Florida Georgia Line

Dices Pierre Boulez, yo digo Big Sean

Dices György Ligeti, yo digo Gym Class Heroes

Dices Karlheinz Stockhausen, yo digo Miley Cyrus

Dices Nang Nang, yo digo The Lumineers

Dices Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, yo digo Jay-Z

Dices Nara Leão, yo digoCharlie Puth

Dices Basic Channel, yo digo Mac Miller

Dices Raymond Scott, yo digo Twenty One Pilots

Dices Delia Derbyshire, yo digo Harry Styles

Dices Daphne Oram, yo digo Charli XCX

Dices Noah Howard, yo digoBTS

Dices Terry Riley, yo digo Iggy Azalea

Dices Peter Sotos, yo digo John Legend

Dices Lula Côrtes e Zé Ramalho, yo digo OneRepublic

Dices Boyd Rice, yo digo Migos

Dices Mahmoud Ahmed, yo digo Logic

Dices Henry Flynt, yo digo Bastille

Dices Kazumoto Endo, yo digo Five Seconds of Summer

Dices David Tudor, yo digo Pentatonix

Dices Aporea, yo digo The Chainsmokers

Dices Half Japanese, yo digo Fall Out Boy

Dices Mega Banton, yo digo David Guetta

Dices Secret Chiefs 3, yo digo Greta Van Fleet

Dices Keiji Haino, yo digo Alicia Keys

Dices Ramleh, yo digo Kanye West

Dices Otomo Yoshihide, yo digo T-Pain

Dices John Zorn, yo digo Lizzo

Dices Joe Meek, yo digo WALK THE MOON

Dices Robbie Basho, yo digo Cardi B

Dices Phil Spector, yo digo EXO

Dices Faxed Head, yo digo Solange

Dices Harry Partch, yo digo Lil Nas X

Dices Wesley Willis, yo digo Disclosure

Dices Fred Frith, yo digo Sam Smith

Dices The Residents, yo digo Michael Buble

Dices Sun Ra, yo digo Paramore

Dices Sun City Girls, yo digo Linkin Park

Dices Hans Krüsi, yo digo Florence + The Machine

Dices Royal Trux, yo digo Rascal Flatts

Dices Jandek, yo digo Eminem

Dices Yat-Kha, yo digo Chance the Rapper

Dices Loren Mazzacane Connors, yo digo Mariah Carey

Dices Pärson Sound, yo digo Snoop Dogg

Dices The Dead C, yo digo Adele

Dices Comus, yo digo Shawn Mendes

Dices Cromagnon, yo digo Chris Brown

Dices Eliane Radigue, yo digo Camilla Cabello

Dices Arthur Doyle, yo digo Halsey

Dices Shizuka, yo digo The 1975

Dices The Red Krayola, yo digo Billie Eilish

Dices Henry Cow, yo digo A$AP Rocky

Dices Magma, yo digo Dua Lipa

Dices Opus Avantra, yo digo Kendrick Lamar

Dices Pan.Thy.Monium., yo digo Nicki Minaj

Dices Murmuüre, yo digo Madonna

Dices Ksiezyc, yo digo Britney Spears

Dices Gong, yo digo Post Malone

Dices Cukor Bila Smert', yo digo Jonas Brothers

Dices cLOUDDEAD, yo opino que te calles

Dices Muslimgauze, ¡¡ YO GRITO POP!!

Dices Kaoru Abe, y te parto la madre

El 92% de la juventud está escuchando Avant Garde Noise. Si eres parte de ese 8% que aun escucha música de verdad, comparte este post a tus contactos de facebook.

¡¡¡¡ No dejes que el espíritu del POP muera !!!!

[msrhaxoz]

The theory about Lies of P endings and why Pinocchio becomes alive only in Rise of P ending

SPOILERS WARNING Hello everyone! This post is my first experience with writing a post, because I usually post drawings. But since I have no one to share the happiness of the game with (and I reeeally liked this game) I decided to publish my thoughts about the endings of the game, specifically Rise of P and Real boy. So, let's get started!

In the middle of the game, the player finds a statue of a saint that can reset the player's level. And this statue is an obvious reference to Pieta mourning the death of Christ. The Madonna della Pietà - is a marble sculpture of Jesus and Mary at Mount Golgotha representing the "Sixth Sorrow" of the Blessed Virgin Mary by Michelangelo Buonarroti. I want to talk a little bit about the appearance of the pieta in the game. The very first thing we can notice is that the statue of the saint is holding a puppet. The original interpretation of the statue is that the Virgin Mary grieves over the death of her son, looking at his ribs and withered hands. The interpretation in the game is very similar to the idea of the statue of Pieta, but it is interesting that instead of a human corpse, she holds a puppet.. which, perhaps, can also be interpreted as a corpse.

And at the end, when Sophia becomes a puppet, discarding the human body, there is again a parallel with the statue of Mary, except for its complete opposite - the unalive maiden holds a living person in her hands, and holds it with her left hand. Why alive? Let's return to the interpretation of Michelangelo's statue - the Virgin Mary mourns the death of her son. The statue has a contrasting image between a living and non-living body, including many folds of fabric on Mary's body, creating a contrast with the cold dead body. With the right hand, nursing mothers usually hold babies when feeding, in Michelangelo's statue, this is the contrast between an infant and an adult son. Maria's left hand is free, symbolizing the senselessness of killing her son. But the statue in the game has a saint holding a mechanical heart.

Sophia is holding a boy with the same hand, whose heart is filled with a human soul, which means that he is alive. It's hard for me to say that Carlo is becoming alive. After all, despite the fact that the player can fulfill all the conditions for obtaining the Rise of P ending, Geppetto can still be given the heart of the main character. Moreover, if you follow the path of truth and do not give Sophia peace, giving your heart to Geppetto will be the only possible ending. Geppetto only made another puppet, but more insensitive and cruel (The nameless puppet was the first puppet made by the old man that was mounted with a P-Organ. Its Ergo efficiency was not just unremarkable, it was destructive; thus the nameless puppet was not chosen for the boy's body and sealed away.)

And I want to add that Carlo was probably resentful by his father. It is unlikely that he would be happy with such a family reunion. That's all! I am open to criticizing the theory, as well as to complementing your thoughts.

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 12: Bloodied & Broken

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: Tommy continues to wait with bated breathe to see if Lucy will actually wake up.

Word Count: 3,170

Notes: Warnings for depictions of injuries and hospitals.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 3: Trinkets

Tommy watched Esme move about the hospital room warily, bag slung over one shoulder and skirts swishing around her ankles. Adjusting the papers she’d handed him the moment she walked in, he crossed one leg over the other, balancing them against his knee.

Esme touched a fingertip to a leaf from the bouquet Ada had dropped by, now settled in a vase on Lucy’s bedside table. She picked up the stuffed bear where it was propped up against the vase, and looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Cute.”

“It’s from Ada,” he said, before she could get any ideas. Esme’s eyes sparkled a little with amusement as she set the bear back down. 

“I brought some things,” she reached into her bag, and pulled out a black madonna. “I know neither you or her really believe,” she looped the twine that held the pendant around the vase. “But I do.”  

Tommy hummed, watching her movements analytically. He was more on his guard this time. Not allowing himself to make the mistake of relaxing like he had with Ada. 

“And I brought some other things too. That might help. For luck and healing,” she started to dig deeper into her bag, carefully setting down little trinkets onto the table. Tommy fiddled with the edges of the papers while he watched her. It was a nice thought. And couldn’t hurt. 

It had been a couple days since Lucy had come out of surgery, and she still hadn’t woken up yet. They could use all the luck they could get.   

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he looked down at his lap. “Thank you, Esme.”

She shot him a sage look. “My brains would likely be splattered across the betting shop wall if it weren’t for her,” she set the last little trinket down with a clink. “I owe her a debt.”

“Still. I know she’d appreciate it.”

Adjusting the strap on her shoulder, she nodded slowly. Her eyes flitted around the room, pausing on the cot set up beside Lucy’s bed. Where he’d been sleeping for the past couple of nights. 

Well, ‘sleeping’ was perhaps a generous term. He only dozed for fleeting moments at a time, constantly jerking awake at the slightest sounds coming from the hallway outside the room, or to check to make sure Lucy was okay. The nurses, after realizing that he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, had briefed him on the signs to keep an eye out for regarding infection or brain bleeding. That way he could call for them if he noticed anything. 

Eager to change the subject, he coughed into his fist, pulling a pen from his pocket to make marks and scribble his signature on the papers she’d brought. “How are things at the shop?”

“Fine. John and Arthur fixed the door. Put these big, fancy new locks on it. No one should be able to bust in like that again.”

“Good.”

He could feel Esme’s eyes boring into the side of his head while he finished marking up the papers she’d handed him.

“Polly wants to know if you have any idea when you will be back yet.”

His teeth grinded together at the mention of his aunt.

“I don’t think she’s trying to be presumptuous. She genuinely is just wondering. Some of the men get a little weird, you know. When they have to take orders from a woman.”

“I’m sure Polly can handle them.”

“Of course she can. She just wants to know for how long.”

“Yeah, well,” he sighed, scribbling the last signature and gathering the papers back up into a neat pile to hand to her. “I don’t know yet.”

Esme tucked the papers back into her bag, then looked at him, head angled a little to the side. Then she looked back over at Lucy. Taking a step forward, she gently rested her fingertips on Lucy’s forehead, murmuring something in Romani, too quietly under her breath for Tommy to hear. After a moment, she stepped back. 

“It’s nice for you to stay with her like this.”

Tommy shrugged awkwardly. “I promised I wouldn’t leave her,” he blinked, a little surprised at the admittance. Esme hummed.

“The others don’t always see things so clearly. I think Ada is starting to piece things together a little more, but she’s so busy with Freddie and Karl she’s not here enough to really see…”

Tommy shot her a sharp look. “See what?”

Esme did not balk at the challenge in his voice. Reaching out, she took his hand, opening his palm, and tracing her fingertips along the line of the scar covering it. 

“I noticed that yours and hers matched the first day we met,” she said softly, dropping his hand and lifting her own, fingers splayed so he could plainly see the scar on her own palm. “Just like me and John’s do.”

“Esme…” he warned, but she still didn’t back down.

“Don’t treat me as an idiot, Thomas. I know what a blood bond means.”

He closed his mouth, jaw working as he processed Esme’s words. “Have you told anyone?”

She snorted. “Of course not. But they’re not blind, Thomas. There’s no way Polly hasn’t noticed the matching scars on both of your palms.”

“I know.”

“John thinks you’re just fucking her. Arthur is oblivious. Ada is finally starting to put things together. Polly…Polly is still in denial a little, I think.”

“Denial?”

At his sharp gaze, her eyes just sparkled with mirth and sage wisdom. “She’s still clinging to a scrap of hope that Lucy doesn’t really mean all that much to you.”

“Is it really that terrible that I’ve actually managed to find someone who makes me happy?”

“For her? Yes, I think it would be. It threatens her position in the family. It means that there’s another woman in your life that you listen to even more than her.” 

“Fucking hell…”

“If it makes you feel any better, I think that Lucy saving our asses might’ve softened Polly just a tiny fraction in regards to her.”

Tommy shot her an unconvinced look. Esme cocked her head, dark, wise eyes assessing him uncannily. 

“You’re angry with her.”

“What was your first hint?” he asked sarcastically, leaning back in his chair with a huff. He looked back at Lucy, still sleeping. There was little more color to her cheeks, and her breaths seemed stronger. Not as shallow. “She could have at least sent some fucking flowers or something.”

“I don’t think it’s malicious. She’s just too proud for her own good, sometimes. All you Shelbys are. I see it in John too, on occasion. Maybe she just figures that the best thing she can do for you both is focus on running things so you don’t have to worry about anything regarding the business and can just focus on Lucy…”

Tommy shook his head. “I know how Polly feels about Lucy, Esme. Just like I know that once Polly’s made up her mind about someone, you’d sooner be more likely to convince a mountain to move than to get her to change her mind. She’d sooner knowingly drink poison than purposefully do something nice for her.”

“I think you’re being a little pessimistic.”

“I suppose we’ll see, eh?” 

Esme shrugged. “I ought to be getting back. John took the kids out to the fair, but they’ll be home for supper soon.”

“Right,” he rubbed his hands together, fingertips unconsciously tracing the bump of the scar on his palm, where the blade had sunk into his flesh and cut deep, before he and Lucy entwined their fingers together, wounds pressed tight to each other, blood pouring and running through one another’s veins. 

An unbreakable, sacred bond. Forever keeping them entangled. 

God, what was he going to do if she never woke up?

“Thank you for coming by,” he said, hoping that she didn’t notice the way his voice ever so slightly broke.

“Course,” Esme’s shoes clicked as she made her way towards the door. 

“Esme?” he called before she could pull it open. She turned back to him. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“No.”   

He nodded, looking back to Lucy, still unmoving. Still sleeping. 

“We haven’t always seen eye to eye, you and me,” Esme said after a moment of watching him from the door. “I doubt that will change. But I’ve watched you with her,” she jerked her head towards Lucy. “From what I’ve seen, you’ve always been good to her. She’s lucky to have you watching over her.”

Tommy cleared his throat awkwardly, half tempted to remind her that if it weren’t for him, Lucy probably wouldn’t be laying in a hospital bed in the first place. But instead he said nothing, eyes remaining focused on his little red head where she laid, listening to the sounds of Esme’s shoes clicking as she stepped out the door, and made her way down the hall. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Her first coherent thought, when she woke up, was that it felt like she’d been hit by a bus.

It was like her head had been stuffed full of cotton, swimming and spinning a little. 

Sometimes, she thought that she heard voices. An angry woman, half shouting. A soothing Welsh lilt. But mostly, she just heard Tommy. Deep and gentle. Twinged with slight pleading. She struggled to hold onto it, to let the sound of him draw her back to wakefulness. But everytime, before she could fully make it there, she was dragged back down into sleep. 

But today she was able to hold on long enough to make it to full consciousness. Though it was not Tommy’s voice that helped to draw her back, but the steady, encompassing warmth around her right hand. She grabbed onto the sensation of it; how it soaked into her skin and heated her chilled fingers and the gentle, tender pet of a thumb swiping across her knuckles. 

Soon, she was able to sense enough to know that she was lying on her back, the smell of disinfectant and medicine lodged in her nose and blankets pulled up to her chest. 

Slowly, more and more of her mind started to rise from hibernation. 

And then, she felt the pain. 

It started at the back of her head, and ached throughout her entire body in a steady, distinct throbbing. There was a dullness to it, and her head still felt clouded and sluggish, likely not just a side-effect of sleep. She must be on some sort of drugs. Something bulky and a little scratchy was plastered to the back of her head. A bandage, maybe? 

Furrowing her brows in an attempt to recall what had happened hurt. And while she was awake, she had not yet opened her eyes. It felt as though her eyelids were weighed down with bricks. 

She remembered…she remembered…the betting shop floor. Blood. Pain. Fear. Convinced that she was going to die. Begging them not to leave her. And being left alone anyway. The ear-ringing crack of a gun going off. 

Oh, right. Gunshot wound to the head. She remembered now.

Something flexed around her hand, and it took her a moment to realize that something–someone–was firmly stroking their thumb along the scar on her palm. The one left from the blood bond she’d created with Tommy. 

With an Herculean effort, she peeled her eyes open, and almost immediately slammed them closed again, the bright lights from both the ceiling and the window irritating her eyes and causing pinpricks of pain to shoot through her already aching head. A little whine left her lips. 

The figure, who must have been sitting beside her based on the way they were clutching her hand, went stiff, shooting forward with their fingers tightening around hers. 

“Lucy?”

Tommy. Of course it was Tommy. She doubted that there was anyone else who would care enough to have sat at her bedside for who even knows how long, waiting to see if she ever woke up.  

Don’t leave me.

Never.

She half wanted to cry at the memory of him holding her on the betting shop floor, keeping pressure on her wound and murmuring reassuring promises that she was going to be okay; that he wouldn’t leave her alone. 

There had been endless agony in his eyes when the doctors and nurses practically had to wrench him away from her in the waiting room. By that point, she’d been fading in and out of consciousness consistently, verging more on passed out than actually awake, but she’d still seen the look of sheer helpless pain on his face when they started to wheel her away from him and into a surgical suite. 

Fighting down the exhaustion and agony trying to coax her back to sleep, she forced her eyes open again. 

She was greeted with Tommy’s face hovering over hers. His eyes–bloodshot and wide–bore her. There were very dark, swollen circles under them, and his hair was ruffled and sticking up in a few places, as if he’d been running his fingers through it repeatedly. A light shadow of stubble was beginning to sprout up along his jaw. His clothes were rumpled and wrinkled in several places.  

When she tried to angle herself towards him a little, it was to find that she was impeded by a brace keeping her from turning her head.  

So instead she settled for raising her hand to cup his cheek, brows creasing as she took in just how haggard and exhausted he looked. How long had she been out? How long had he just been sitting here, waiting with little more than a sliver of hope that she would find her way back to him?

His lips parted with a choked off sound as he took in her staring back at him, and at the press of her hand against his cheek, she saw his throat convulse as he swallowed, actually looking to be close to tears.

“Tommy, are you alright?” her voice was but a weak whisper. Definitely hadn’t been used for at least a couple of days, then. 

Tommy let out a quiet sound that was half laugh, half sob, at her question. His face turned against her palm to kiss her hands, big fingers curling around hers as he kissed her fingers, the back of her hands, and her palms over and over again.   

“I’m supposed to be the one asking you that, love,” he murmured, giving her hands a few more pecks.

“Mm,” she just hummed, eyes closing for a moment, not opening again until she felt him brushing a few tendrils of hair off her forehead.

“Lucy?”

“‘M still here,” she mumbled, opening her eyes again to find him looking her over concernedly. 

“How are you feeling? Are you in pain?”

“Hm…” she considered. “Head hurts a little, but I’m guessing that’s to be expected. Mostly just tired. And achy.”

“I can get the doctor–”

“No,” she squeezed his hand. “Not yet. Just stay a minute.”

He didn’t argue with her, settling back down where he’d half risen from his seat. He was staring at her like he was afraid she might disappear.

“How long was I out for?”

“Only a few days,” his finger trailed up and down her arm, not entirely making eye contact with her as he uttered the next bit. “We weren’t entirely sure if you would ever wake up.”

It hurt to let out the little snort she emitted from her nose, but it was worth it to see him relax a little at the sound of her amusement. “It’s gonna have to take worse than a bullet to the head to get rid of me.”

Tommy shot her a small, fond smile, reaching out to brush the back of his hand down her cheek. “I’m so glad you’re awake. I missed you.”

“You said I was only asleep for a couple days.”

He just shook his head. “Too long.”

She smiled to herself, and tugged the hand still holding hers to her lips, so she could press a kiss to it. “Thank you for staying with me.”

“I made you a promise,” he shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. “And, besides, I wouldn’t have been able to focus on much of anything else if I knew you were laying here all alone.”

Sweetheart, she thought to him affectionately, smile growing as he dropped his head a little bashfully. 

But the thought of work made it quickly fade, replaced instead by silent dread. She felt…fine, all things considered. Outside of just some general cloudiness and sluggishness in her thoughts, she wasn’t having any trouble thinking, or remembering things, now that she was more awake. And she could talk. She seemed able to move alright, general weakness aside, and the experimental little wiggle she did of her toes proved to be a success. 

But just because she didn’t currently feel any specific adverse effects from her injury, didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be any. She’d been shot in the fucking head. She’d touched her own brain with her fingertips. People didn’t just walk away from that, did they?

She closed her eyes again, bracing herself. “Tell me how bad it is. Really.”

“Not so bad. Recovery will probably be long. But they don’t expect you to have any long term complications. The bullet impacted your skull, but only the outermost layer of your brain. They didn’t see any significant damage to it,” he cleared his throat. “The doctor can give you more specific details on all of this.”

“Mm,” she hummed, absorbing the information. She was lucky, then. Incredibly so.

But a long recovery meant she would be out of commission for a while. And if she wasn’t able to do her job for a significant while…

She bit her lip, and tried to push the thought away, Tommy’s hand cupping her cheek distracting her a little.

“You’re really feeling alright?” he asked, big blue eyes wide with concern. 

“Mhm, I’m sure. Just tired,” she shifted slightly in the bed. “The brace is a little uncomfortable.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to wear it for very long.”

“Oh, good.”

Tommy stroked her hair back, leaning forward from his seat to press a gentle, slow kiss to her lips. Lucy’s eyes fluttered closed at the sensation, his mouth warm and soft as a pillow against hers. He retreated enough to also kiss her forehead before settling back into his chair. 

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too. I’m sorry that I made you worry.”

“Don’t–don’t apologize. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

She gave his hand a little squeeze. He kissed her again, then stood.

“I’ll go tell the doctor you’re awake, now.”

“Okay,” she watched him go to the door, teeth worrying a little at her lower lip as she resigned herself to what was likely to be a long and painful recovery. 

Meanwhile a thought, one she knew to be irrational and silly, scratched insistently on the insides of her mind.  

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Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[thelovelymissbigbadwolf]

I guess some of you must've heard about what's happening on Rio Grande do Sul. Or if not, I wanted to try to spread awareness.

Basically in the last week or so, we've been hit by a intense flooding that not only flooded everywhere, but destroyed entire cities in the process.

Eldorado do Sul is underwater. An entire city UNDERWATER.

Half of Canoas is flooded, covering entire buildings.

I live in the capital, Porto Alegre. I'm one of the lucky few to not have been affected by the rain, we just don't have clean water here.

But entire districts are flooded, Sarandi had to be evacuated due to the rising waters.

The measurement system we use to measure Rio Guaíba is a physical one, a vertical ruler that goes up to 3 meters. It's underwater, as the waters are about 5 meters.

We have so far about 78 deaths confirmed, though I doubt this is the total amount. There's over 60 people disappeared. Over 5000 affected by the rains. But honestly, I just know it's a much higher number in reality.

I don't know any donation links nor do I even know how international donations work, if anyone knows, please reblog and spread awareness of what's happening.

Our governor had a year to prepare and he did nothing.

If you need more to sympathize with this post, I'll share stories I heard on TikTok from people on the front line, both volunteers and victims.

A man was rescuing three children and one of them asked him to retrieve a floating doll they saw. When the man retrieved said doll... It wasn't a doll, but a baby. A baby that had died on the flood.

There's an audio of a family screaming desperately for help, quote: "The smell is too strong", a young voice said, "It's leaking gas," an adult added.

A woman waited for rescue for over 40 hours for someone that could rescue not only her, but her many pets. Around 27 cats and dogs, I'm not sure if she had other pets.

Close friends woke up late in the night to go to Eldorado do Sul to rescue family members before ir flooded entirely, they are currently doing fine as far as I know.

A man had found his best friend's dog and can be heard sending an audio to his wife, saying he found the dog... But lies the question of where his friend is.

A mother cried saying "My daughters are stuck there, I gotta get them out of there" while being interviewed.

Those are the ones I could quote from memory, I'm sleep deprived at the moment.

The airport of Salgado Filho here in Porto Alegre is flooded.

One of the biggest supermarkets here is called Havan and it's a massive one... Water is reaching the rooftops.

A hospital had to be evacuated, saving about 240 patients, doctors and nurses on shift had to be taken to work on a military car.

This Sunday, Brasil's president came to talk of the situation, promising to help.

Even with the disaster happening, the news still make sure to give space for Madonna's concert, while Rio Grande do Sul suffered with its most historical flood since 1941. It's not Madonna's fault by a mile, but the problem is that they basically said "it's very sad, but we can't forget about Madonna", though they could've mentioned before the tragedy, as it seemed a very poor choice of placing of news.

Madonna donated 10 million reais to help Rio Grande do Sul.

99Pop is giving free rides for the blood donation bank.

One of my boyfriend's coworkers won't be able to get to work due to roads outside of Porto Alegre being blocked, one even was destroyed.

People who have beach houses were instructed to go there and take refuge for a while, as there are many beaches such as Cidreira and Xangrilá that are salt water, but Tapes is a river beach, according to my cousin it wasn't so bad, but we're still keeping an eye for news as her grandmother lives there.

I have relatives in Barra do Ribeiro, but haven't heard from them, but the city is said to have been flooded as well, though I don't know to what levels.

Cars have been entirely swallowed by water and a school bus WITH STUDENTS was seen afloat.

Many animals have been affected as well, one case that infuriated everyone was of a dog that was left behind by its owner, not only on a leash but with TWO padlocks in it. One on the collar and one to the wall. The animal did not survive, the poor thing.

Civil defense and others are working hard on rescuing victims along with volunteers of all places, other states are helping as well, I think it was Minas Gerais who was said to have sent professional firemen trained to deal with catastrophes to come and help.

Water advanced to Menino Deus a few hours ago, though I haven't seen reports on it other than a warning from a official page.

Remembering, I'm from Porto Alegre, I don't have many info on other cities other than the most spread news and reports from victims and volunteers. Though I'm trying to keep up to as many as I can.

Finally rain has stopped, but we don't know for how long and neither do we know for how long Guaíba will stay like this and even if it'll go down anytime soon. I fear it going to connecting rivers, since there's a large watershed I think it's the term.

I'm not very knowledgeable on the subject, I just hope to help with what I have. Here's a map of the flooding so far in my town.

It's zoomed out to get the full extent, but you can see entire districts flooded.

My English isn't perfect, but I hope I could explain it well enough. Send prayers for everyone who suffered with this. Feel free to reblog if you have more info.