#Helper fun
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Horsey☺️
Guys,when I went to horse camp,I was a helper. It was really fun during lunch because we got to eat in the arena but the kids couldn't😆. I loved it. We also had a sleep over. Well the helpers did. Moral if the story,I wanna help again next year.
#horses#equine#horse camp#helper#Helper fun#Horsey helper#Camp helper#Reminds me if the one episode if murder drones ngl#i am crazy#I am a horse rider
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
the children of nim.........
evil pink passive real and true (because it made sense in my head trust)
#fanart#utmv#undertale au#sans undertale#undertale#utmv fanart#nightmare sans#passive nightmare sans#dream sans#dreamtale#dream's brother and the helper#my art uwu#fun stuff
782 notes
·
View notes
Text
MiqoMarch Day 01 - Introduction
Arsay is not one to boast, but still she would speak of her roles and titles with pride. She saw them as proof of her worth in the world. After a break from facing apocalyptic scenarios, Arsay has begun to learn that she should strive to view herself beyond her accolades.
#MiqoMarch#miqomarch2024#ffxiv#miqo'te#ffxiv wol#three cheers for arsay character growth#going from “i feel worthless unless im helping someone” to “I still want to help people cause it makes me feel good but Im allowed to exist#beyond being 'the helper'"#if that makes anysense#she'll never stop wanting to be the hero for everyone but shes not going to collapse if someone doesnt ask her to do something for them#anyways this is cringe but its a fun way to introduce all the different sections of arsays life that yall might be seeing for the next mont#happy miqomarch cant wait to see everyones cats#WOL posting#Arsay Nun
208 notes
·
View notes
Text
I spent 3 hours replying to this anon simply to say "everyone gets a Vaporeon (except Sylvain)".
#dimitri alexandre blaiddyd#bernadetta von varley#marianne von edmund#ferdinand von aegir#sylvain jose gautier#fe three houses#pkmn#long post#i would literally explain why everyone fits with vaporeon (except sylvain) but that would take too much time to draw#however there are super valid reasons i could list for why everyone deserves a vaporeon (except sylvain)#also fun fact - ferdinand would 100% go out of his way to get bernadetta that shiny eevee to be a shiny vaporeon#she deserves a purple helper and friend and he will make sure she gets that#you cannot tell me ferdinand von aegir wouldnt go the extra mile because he absolutely would#also i provided a why so i dont want anyone to argue with these picks because i know im right#and i can provide reasons for everyone (except sylvain) to have a vaporeon#thank you its dinner time bye please appreciate this @ you anon i spent so long on this post
407 notes
·
View notes
Text
🌟Jeff Satur outfit of the year 2023🌟
And the winner is Siam Halloween!!
video by beamspy_
Your most voted for Jeff outfit of the year, and most submitted. We had many, many photos of this fit turn up in our inbox. Thank you all for your efforts and dedication to a hot little corset!
picture credits: saturn4am, studio_on_saturn, jeff satur,
#jeffyfitoftheyear#jeff satur#the dedication to a slutty corseted vampire#thank you SO MUCH to everyone who participated#this would not have been as fun or as wild to run if not for everyone contributing#YOU ARE ALL THE BEST#also special thanks to my jeff helper shirley#who i sent on many a jeff research run#THANK YOU MY DEAR#and to vlada for the lovely beautiful jeffy gifs#THIS WAS A TEAM EFFORT#also most importantly thanks to jeff for all the hot little fits#and here's to 2024 to a whole bunch of new and upcoming cunty outfits :)#tw flashing
212 notes
·
View notes
Photo
some older art of a au that i made a while ago, forgot to post about it basic idea is that it takes place in UCN which is a super big contraption that walks the earth letting people come in to watch the show (aka william getting tortured)
#william is wearing a mask#cassidy is having fun#she has little ghost helpers#william afton#cassidy#purple guy#fnaf au#fnaf
600 notes
·
View notes
Text
I put too much effort into this
192 notes
·
View notes
Text
Warning Signs
John doesn't mind that they play so much basketball. It lends itself quite naturally to their training.
Whumptober Day 10: Blow to the Head
Teen and Up | John, Sam, and Dean | Pre-series | Sports | Head Injury
.
Sam is four days old the first time John thinks he might lose him— the jaundice sets in fast in the middle of the night and they don't notice till next morning. They're told they did the right thing bringing him into the hospital and in the same sure tone of voice assured that it's quite common and Sam should pull through by day seven.
They bring him back in a gift shop romper with 'World's Greatest Basketball Player' printed on the front. John has mixed feeling about the romper but Dean insists on saving it when they're sorting through clothes Sam has grown out of.
Sam is two months old when he's gifted his first basketball— it's a plush toy with a long tag that Sam tries to use to fling the ball around. He's five months old the first time he manages to clear the top of the crib and Dean yells with delight.
Sam is six months old the second time John fears for his life and after that, no matter how much he may try to temper that fear, it never quite goes away. John doesn't try very hard, and then not at all.
Sam is a few weeks short of three years old when he manages to copy Dean and bounce the ball up and down twice; Dean proudly declares that Sam will make a fine dribbler the way he's going and John agrees as he lifts him up into the air, shrieking.
John doesn't mind that they play so much. It lends itself quite naturally to their training— Sam at eight is fast, a sprinter off the blocks, a rabbit leading a chase, changing direction quicker that John can think to suggest it, and Dean is strong, puts his weight quite naturally into his punches without John ever having to say a word about proper technique.
Sam is 14 when John is forced to admit— not in so many words— that he's afraid for Sam's life. Sam sneaks away behind John's back and gets tested to see if he's a match for donating part of his liver to the wife of one of John's friends, Laura, who took care of the boys when they were younger. John yells and shouts when he finds out, threatens and punishes, forbids. "You're fourteen which means I have to okay this thing and I'm not okaying shit!" he yells, flinging a ceramic mug into the wall next to where Sam is standing. Later, when Sam is sitting on the steps outside, arms around his knees, shivering, John goes out and puts an arm around him. "How am I supposed to protect you from dying on an operating table, Sammy?" he asks and hopes it answers a lifetime of doubts.
John will stop the car outside basketball courts or on empty backroads in the middle of the night when cabin fever is likely, otherwise, to provoke a fight, and let the two of them out for a game or two. He doesn't encourage rough play but he does turn a blind eye to it. They get rowdy as they get older.
Sam, at fifteen didn't quite know what to do with his long limbs, awkward as a doe on ice, but at sixteen he seems to have grown into them. He'll dodge out in front of Dean, snatch the ball right out of the air and dribble away. He's good, in his way. He doesn't make as many baskets as Dean but he's good at making Dean not make as many baskets as Dean. He provokes Dean into taking risks and forces him to make stupid mistakes. Dean ends up angry, Sam ends up smug. John recognizes the tune of their lives but decides to use this too as training: he yells at Dean from the sidelines to keep calm, to not be so stupid. He yells at Sam about proper technique, ("Get low if you want to jump high, Sam") and just to wipe the smug look off Sam's face, steps in himself. He walks away impressed.
If circumstances were different, Sam might've made a hell of a college player, maybe even a decent pro.
They stop playing so much. Dean provokes Sam instead into sparring with him. It's almost a shame.
They get good at taking care of their own scrapes and bruises. Sam will fish out bits of gravel from his elbows under a flickering light. Dean will wait till John turns his back to take a furtive swig of the whiskey he's supposed to be using to clean his wounds. John wonders if it's possible to pinpoint exactly when they stopped playing. Was it on the broken court in Colorado with a camping lamp for light or was it in the parking lot of the motel in Indiana when Sam stumbled back and Dean didn't stop to let him get up again?
John tires them out by putting them through a mini boot camp every time he comes back from a hunt, or by making them do drills in the early hours of the morning when they're with him.
Sam is seventeen when John thinks this time he really is dead. The gunshot echoes in his head, his heart stops in his chest, tumbles to his knees, his lungs feel suddenly empty, and he hurtles through the door, trips down the stairs, and throws himself out of the house to where he stationed Sam to keep watch. This wasn't supposed to happen— he was supposed to be safe out there. He was supposed to be—
Sam takes a ragged breath, his face shines pale in the darkness. The bullet's torn into his side. John holds his hands over the wound, presses down, whispers "Sorry, Sam," when Sam bites down on a yelp, and presses harder. Dean lead-foots them to the hospital with John on his knees in the backseat holding firm pressure on the wound.
In the waiting room, John paces like a caged animal and Dean sits hunched over in a chair.
They're allowed in to visit when Sam comes out of surgery but they're told he might not wake up for a few hours yet.
The gift shop is near empty when John goes in to re-check, see if there's anything Dean missed. Surely, surely, there has to be something in Sam's size sitting around there somewhere. He's shown the same white shirt with the large orange basketball emblazoned on the front that Dean's already bought for Sam. John wonders if he can convince Sam to wear one of the unwashed shirts lying in the trunk instead but then thinks better of it.
Confined to bed for days, Sam reaches an arm out from under the covers and dribbles the ball on the carpeted floor. When the man in the room opposite bangs on the door and tells John to put a stop to the racket, John tells him to go to hell.
Sam bounces back pretty fast. He always does.
Sam was seven the first time he came to John with his head all bloody, swaying where he stood until John looked up from his journal, then he stumbled into John's lap. He was nine the first time John felt he was getting past Dean without Dean letting him. He was ten the first time John had to break up a fight between his sons. He was fourteen when an errant fist crashed into John's arm instead of Dean and Sam froze in horror, genuinely apologetic, earning himself a hard left hook to the jaw from Dean before Dean had a chance to check his blow. He was sixteen the first time he ended up with a concussion bad enough to have John worried. He complained every single time John tried to check up on him that weekend. He's nearly eighteen and John doesn't take it seriously for a long moment as Sam's arms flail, one almost reaching up to his face. John almost dismisses the gesture as reflex. The ball seems to float in limbo, one bright speck of fresh red imprinted just under a black rib of the ball. John sees Sam's pupils, pinpricks, blow out. Or maybe he imagines the detail. The ball thumps to the ground and rebounds thrice, rolling away. "You okay?" Dean calls over his shoulder as he moves to get the ball, then turns around again, confused. It starts to rain, softly. A drop falls to Sam's face, joins the tiny rivulet of blood dripping out of his nose. There's very little of it. Hardly any at all.
John feels himself move forwards, registers pain as the concrete crashes up into his knees, he leans over Sam, takes his shoulder, gently for some reason when he should be shaking Sam, telling him to get up, get in the car. Telling him he doesn't want the two of them taking damp clothes into the car so skedaddle. A drop of blood splatters on the faded grey-blue concrete of the court. John moves his hand under Sam's head— he doesn't remember lifting to cradle it but he must have— and finds a small wound. Small enough that it doesn't even need stitching. Not even a bandage.
"Okay kiddo?" he asks like he honestly expects an answer. Dean's still standing where he stopped, fingers bunched in his hair, palms pressed against his temples. He looks somewhat crazed.
John gathers Sam up, snaps at Dean to help him and they get Sam into the car, make it, somehow, to the hospital. John doesn't want to let go when they tell him they need to take Sam in for a CT, some insane part of him protesting that it's futile, but he signs the form they give him and signs again later— hemorrhage? half listening when the doctor explains about the surgery.
Dean's at Sam's bedside, trying to apologize and trying not to cry, garbling his words so he achieves neither objective.
"Sir? Do you understand?"
"Yes."
They wheel him away.
He can tell by the long walk along the corridor from the elevators, by the way the doctor looks at him for a fleeting moment and then lowers his eyes for the rest of the way until he reaches the chairs, knows it before the man opens his mouth to break the news. "We did everything we could—" and so on.
Actually, he's still alive, in a technical, not-really-there sort of way. They didn't let him go, when his body gave out. "I'd like to talk to you about organ donation." A new voice this time. Sympathetic tilt of the head, hushed tone, muted, sober clothes like this is the exact conversation they keep her around for. He should never have let them cut him open. His head is bandaged as if it makes a difference. John thinks maybe he should shout and tell them to leave him alone but he can't bring himself to do it.
"Sir?" She asks, gently.
He looks up. "No," he growls. "And fuck off," he adds.
Behind him, for the first time since the court, Dean speaks up. "Yes," he says and clears his throat. "He's a match for Laura," he says "She needs a liver—" this to the woman. "He promised her."
"Shit happens." John hears himself reply. "She can find her own liver." The kind of flippancy that Sam always hated.
"He's eighteen in a few hours," Dean's voice cracks. It's probably that, John thinks, that makes him walk out of the room and let Dean sign away Sam's organs.
"He might not have liked hunting but he liked saving people, Dad," Dean tells him later. The woman tells him about a man with cystic fibrosis who will live another several years because of Sam, a little girl who won't need dialysis anymore, a woman who can plan for more than the next few weeks and for more than hospital visits and bills, a firefighter just four beds down who just might make it now. John can't be bothered with saying he wishes them all a speedy death and he supposes, someday, he won't think it either.
They bury him— what's left of him— in the same graveyard as Mary. They never visit.
Laura tries to get into contact, leaves him tearful messages, "He was like a son to me too, John." John blocks her number. When Dean strikes off on his own for the odd hunt here and there, John doesn't object. He tosses the basketball into a storage unit and doesn't bother to go in and look when it bounds into something and breaks it.
Days and weeks muddle past. One day suddenly Sam is nineteen years old except that he never even got to eighteen. They've stopped talking about him.
Given what he knows— what he's learnt about Sam— it might be all for the best, except that he doesn't believe in that kind of thing and since when has fate dealt him a kind hand anyway? At least he died innocent, John thinks sometimes, usually at the bottom of a bottle.
Weeks and months turn into another year, then two, and three. John will stop the car sometimes outside basketball courts and stand there for hours, remembering the squeak and scuffle of shoes on asphalt, the huffing of breaths, cut-off curses, the snatch of a laugh.
Given what he knows— what he'd learnt about Sam— he really should have seen it for what it was. When he hears about the man in Oregon, the little girl with the half-familiar name, the woman, the firefighter, Laura— he doesn't do anything. When he gets a call from a payphone in Illinois and hears Sam's voice, panicked, "Dad?" John realizes it shouldn't come as too much of a surprise.
#Supernatural fic#Sam winchester#John winchester#Fics tag#(in this house we do not miss whumptober) < person who missed it last year BUT I WAS A FAIRY HELPER IT'S FINE!#(they were supposed to have grown up normal in this but that was not fun for me. So excuse the ***** ******** it made more sense in the au)
46 notes
·
View notes
Text
*slowly slides doodles of Collector Wally and Helper Wally* I hope you all like the doodles! Also, Collector and Helper belong to @cutepotatook
(*slides two more doodles of Collector interacting with my oc Rosa* they be silly :3)
#silly doodles#im soooo normal#Collector and Helper is so much fun to draw#collectorwally! au#helperwallyc! au#rosa time#my art#art#artwork#drawing#fanart#digital art#digital drawing#sketch#doodle#welcome home fandom#welcome home au#welcome home art#welcome home oc#welcome home original character#welcome home#welcomehomepuppetshow#welcomehomearg#doodle sketch#welcome home doodles#welcome home drawing#foxydart
245 notes
·
View notes
Text
room 276
#bibliomania#bibliomania manga#tw body horror#my art#lmk if anything else needs to be tagged u_u#this took so long…LOL#i’ve been working on it for like. two weeks but i’ve been wanting to draw it for MONTHS#it’s also probably the edgiest thing i’ve drawn. hm#i feel like..the dark evil fucked up hamburger helper mascot tweet….#BUT STILL IT WAS FUN TO DRAW#i also loooove drawing skulls….something abt it is so satisfying to me#maybe cuz of how clinical ??? it is???? IDK#anyways ummm. um#pls read bibliomania it’s very good :D#also if u saw me post this last night. NO U DIDNT <3
123 notes
·
View notes
Text
TOMORROW + I อนาฅต (2024) dir. Goff Paween Purijitpanya
#tomorrow and i#violette wautier#boy pakorn#anakhotedit#netflix thailand#lakornet#lakornedit#asiandramanet#dailyasiandramas#thai drama#thaidrama#thaidramaedit#lakornsource#clairedgifs#seated for violette and aelm#looks like vi is gonna play a cult leader#the monk with that robot monk helper!?!?!??!!?#seated for that as well#fun fact: it took netflix thailand 2 years to cgi this thailand version of black mirror O.o#must be the shortest series out of all the netflix thai 2024 lineup tho since theres only 4 eps and its an anthology#whats up with netflix thailand filming things so sneakily
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
Elf on the shelf meets Batman
Batman says “go ahead, make my day!”
😆😂😝
#elf on the shelf#elf#santas little helper#batman#christmas#xmas#jingle bells#Batman Smells#jolly#fun#lol#lmao#funny#try me#happy holidays#everyone#christmas cheer#good laugh#cheer up#holiday#holiday season
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
Why he so shape bro? /pos
#Caiman’s art#my oc#msm ocs#oc#ocs#caiman’s ocs#my singing monsters#msm#msm oc#Outside Helpers#barrie#piplash oc#piplash msm#piplash#ethereal workshop#msm outside helpers#He’s really fun to draw :)
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
here are the upper floor cap’ns for day 7 (personality)! what better way to show your personality than thru ur preferred ego cards. get better soon btw.
#bweirdoctober#L564#my ocs#my art#my finished stuff#ill decide whether to tag this as finished or not later cuz it is i also just did not care about rendering apparently#anyway the CHOICES#archie > all around helper = jack of all trades vibes. also she’s kind of a social chameleon?#piper > snow whites apple = the carcass. YAY! beautiful princess of your affection is actually starting to rot among the corpses#ritz > red shoes = most likely to get possessed and manipulated LOSERRRokay fr tho the executioner angle is a fun take on sanguine desire#asera > fragments = erm if i was tasked with learning the forbidden knowledge i would simply not go insane type beat. also good with kids:)#anyway thats it. ok these tags are long my bad go on withyour life instead of reading thdse please
53 notes
·
View notes
Text
he said the thing!
#moonys ramble tag#shitpost#gw2#i should look into playing the first game too tbh#i know it's a completely different experience but it does sound fun#and i dig the npc helpers thing
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
I do think Withers has a really subtle background character arc in bg3. Because at the start it is really clear he doesn't want to be here and he's being forced to clean up his mess by Helm and probably Ao. He doesn't really care either. Everything ends so nothing really matters, he'd like to go back to his paperwork now please.
Except he's stuck babysitting a bunch of traumatized dumbasses as they stumble into dealing with the most recent bad idea of his three fuck-up disappointments. So he brings them back when they die for a pittance, lets them pay for some vengeful ghosts to come back as flesh and blood to wreak bloody vengeance on the Absolute, and starts to... comment, on what's going on, as he follows them on their adventure.
Next thing you know Withers is like, doing things unprompted. He refuses to bring back Alfira (or Quil) but that's an act of compassion, keeping the poor girl from the Urge and letting her rest, his actual duty as a god of death. He tells Arabella to follow her destiny and does that thing to make her grief go away which honestly freaks me out but seems to be him trying to help her. He shows up at Moonrise and prompts us to consider why the Dead Three would want a bunch of soulless illithids that would give them no power, getting us to think of the big picture.
And by the end (especially if you do a resist!Durge playthrough) Withers is actively interfering and seems genuinely invested! He brings Durge back from the dead, free of their father! He encourages us before the final fight with the Netherbrain! He's real fucking smug that the Dead Three lost when he never seemed to care about the destruction they caused before! He throws a reunion party and many of his lines are genuinely touching or kind! Especially if a companion died permanently! He has tea with Gale's mom and Tara! He's like, socializing and shit! Yes, everything is temporary and we all die, but there's great beauty in fighting for that precious time and living it to the fullest!
Basically Wither's character arc is this meme, all because Helm made him go outside and touch grass.
#bg3#like... thematically the characters are bg3 are all struggling with mortal frailty and meaninglessness in the grand scheme of gods#several of them are on a ticking clock to immediate death. the tadpoles themselves are a death sentence. others are being actively#hunted by their abusers or will be drawn back into a life that's no real life at all or told to kill themselves or seen as nothing but#disposable pawns in the game of the gods to be used and discard as if nothing#or are destined for objectively shitty afterlives#and what do they do? they fight it! tooth and nail! and try to live their best life here and now! they form bonds and fall in love#and help strangers or each other and have fun even for only the moment and cling to life by their fingernails#while also accepting death could be tomorrow or next week or decades from now because we all die but that's no reason to lie#and meekly accept it because some god said so#they care! they all care SO SO MUCH ABOUT LIVING! even if its tempting to give in to the nihilism they all try so goddamn hard#even on evil routes there's something so deeply human and vulnerable to how it all comes from caring so deeply#about wanting to live and survive and be loved and safe#listen to Wither's lines about the companions if they died. especially Karlach. do you get it? they made the GOD OF DEATH#JERGEL HIMSELF! feel something about the beauty of the mortal life in all its fleeting incandescent glory!#but also I think it's just that Jergel needed to leave his sad little crypt more and talk to people other than kelemvor#and Helm accidentally made Jergel less terrible by forcing him to socialize with the mortals#it's like never leaving your room as a teenager. it makes you depressed and sad and full of despair like an understimulated parrot#and like is Wither's being more invested in the affairs in mortals necessarily a good thing? maybe. maybe not. but he clearly is#so good on him. I think more gods should hang out with mortals in non-worship contexts. might give them some perspective#just pretend to be some random helper NPC#and this is all especially poignant when we remember Jergel’s past as Neutral Evil and the genuinely horrible things he’s done
8 notes
·
View notes