#i'm not gonna be over this for MONTHS
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
girl-drink-drunk · 8 months ago
Text
sometimes canon doesn't mean professing love out loud. sometimes it's saying you don't want to live in a world without the other person and hating the thing that took them away. sometimes it's holding the other person's hand as you die, saying her name and saying she was worth dying for
18 notes · View notes
kimtaegis · 5 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
JIN HUGS JIN HUGS! for @jinstronaut ♡
cr. namuspromised, dwellingsouls, 0613data
1K notes · View notes
azucarera-art · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
old faralex art i posted on twt but forgot to post here
4K notes · View notes
pigeonneaux · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
I hear you call my name (and it feels like home)
441 notes · View notes
lgbtlunaverse · 1 year ago
Text
the wangxian + a-yuan "dads with an adopted son" thing is fine and enjoyable in fanfics honestly but I think we as a fandom are really not utilizing the idea of all of them in unconventional familial structures enough. Like, canonically it wasn't so much that wwx was a-yuan's guardian as that a-yuan was being raised collectively by the wens and wwx was adopted INTO the larger wen family. And lwj got attached to him through that. A-yuan just has these very attached weird uncles/older cousin figures that aren't related to him by blood at all but keep sticking around.
Just think of a modern AU with a lot less death where lwj does as he does in canon and keeps showering a-yuan in gifts as much as he can and when wwx is like "aiyah lan zhan you're gonna spoil him. Not everyone is as rich as you! What's his family supposed to say if they can't buy him all the stuff you do?" lwj just goes "Hm". And from then on out every year once a-yuan's birthday is near the extended Wen family members (well. the ones that are invited that is. No one wants wen chao at a birthday party) wakes up to a wechat payment from lwj.
Random wen cousin number 6 texts granny like
cousin 6: i just got 400 yuan????
granny: oh that's just wangji
cousin 6: i've never met this guy in my life???
granny: he wants you to buy a-yuan a nice birthday present!
cousin 6: how does he know my bank account???
2K notes · View notes
crocodilenjoyer · 9 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
he's our little brother. take care of him.
anne carson - antigone / alec benjamin - if we have each other / dan pearce - single dad laughing: the best of year one / kodaline - brother
Tumblr media
505 notes · View notes
badassindistress · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Mum took my sister and I to a workshop tradional Delft blue painting at the Royal Delft Museum for her birthday. So of course we painted a nice traditional design. No really, we did! She drew a hippocampus and I drew a dragon that were both directly from a 17th century tile.
It was challenging, but really fun!
184 notes · View notes
mwagneto · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
for the love of god please help me
444 notes · View notes
maudiemoods · 2 months ago
Text
"I need that old man" noooooooo you need to get to class on time
118 notes · View notes
skzdorks · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
[SKZ SONG CAMP] HOWL IN HARMONY ↳ ep.02 여름 왕자 ✗ lee know
394 notes · View notes
quick-catton · 9 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
i just want to say that these two have been on my mind literally all of january. the thought of the debauchery they would indulge in. bobby and his pretty boygirlfriend. using him as a decoy in robberies, his cute lil thing an easy distraction while he takes what he needs, allowing them both to easily slip away. getting to show off his pretty baby in clubs, having a sweet little thing as his passenger princess during long drives through the dessert. a doll for him to dress up and have hanging off his arm wherever they go. anyway <3
218 notes · View notes
sideblog-9000 · 1 month ago
Text
Season 8 is so cold, does anyone know what I mean. It's so gray, where's the warm lighting. I need yellow. Everything is so dead, it's such a lonely vibe where IS EVERYONE.
68 notes · View notes
Text
got bored, redrew an old avra drawing :) and by old i mean 4 months lol
i've not drawn jewellery enough recently and it makes me sad.
anyways, you can buy a commission through my Ko-Fi!
Tumblr media
the orginal:
Tumblr media
i also ended up editing it, so the original version with bigger eyes:
Tumblr media
68 notes · View notes
deoidesign · 5 months ago
Text
Just a reminder, I have a patreon!!!
I've been working on actually making stuff to post more often for the lower tiers, and have been consistently doing so!
I post at least a few sketches and drawings every month for the $1 and up patrons
Tumblr media Tumblr media
and I've been working on episodes and sharing some updates with my $5 and up patrons
Tumblr media
And I have a merch club for $15 a month, but there's still some $10 slots left! I design and send usually a postcard and some stickers to my patrons every month, but sometimes I'll do some experimental stuff; last month I did foil prints, for instance, and a few months before I made magnets!
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
It also gets you access to private channels in my discord server, where I ask for patron input on things like the merch or drawings, and where I sometimes stream while working :)
Buuuut also, even if you don't want any of this stuff, it's a great way to support me directly if you like my work! I'm still on hiatus so I'm not making any money from work at the moment, but I'm working hard and my patreon enables me at least to buy my groceries!
Here's the link one more time, no pressure of course but I need to promote my patreon more so people actually know it exists haha
97 notes · View notes
gensnix · 2 years ago
Text
Things I think would be cool to see in Tears of the kingdom
Zelda getting to be happy for more than 2 minutes 
NPC’s reacting to Link’s fused weapons 
Being able to pet animals
Zonai history
getting to add shit to Link’s house
Just a tiny reference of age of calamity like maybe from one of the new champions
what exactly is malice 
more diary's to read we don’t respect privacy here 
more minigames
minigames that involve the new champions
Found family moments with the new champions 
the new champioNS WHERE ARE THEY
KASS TOO I KNOW THAT FUCKER IS HINDING SECRETS FROM ME
paya having more confidence :)  
I wanna know what happened to the 10,000 years past champions
References to Skyward sword 
actually scratch that just talk about that it directly cause we all see it 
ganondorf talking about past heroes 
Ganondorf just talking to Link as a person cause when you think about it those two have a lot in common
the arm spirt thingy actually being a past Link
actually seeing a bunch of past links again would be cool if the hero’s shade can do it so can the rest of them (wolf link canon please)
Not having to collect so many korok seeds...please I’m not strong enough to do it again
feel free to add!
1K notes · View notes
radioactivepeasant · 3 months ago
Text
Snippets: Free Day Friday
Prev
Trespasser, In Which Jak Gets Another Bad Idea
When he'd hastily redressed and stumbled out of the garrison locker room before anything else could happen, Jak quickly found himself confronted by that Strom guy again.
"An hour? Really?" Strom pursed his lips disapprovingly. "You think we have some magic supply of water to spare?"
"Lay off, we weren't washing for an hour -- much as I'd love to," Daxter argued, "The big guy fell asleep!"
"In the shower? Isn't that dangerous?"
Jak shrugged. "How would I know?"
Strom decided after a moment that this fell under the category of "none of my business". He sighed and waved for Jak to follow him.
"The king says we're to put you up in the barracks for now." He eyed Jak's face, somewhat startled by how much younger he looked under the dirt. "How old are you?"
Jak shrugged. "Midway through seventeen-ish. I think. My "guardian" wasn't exactly a reliable source."
More things to file under "none of my business"
"Oh...kay..." Strom did his best to move past one or two odd questions surfacing in his mind. "Well that narrows down which dorm you're in, at least."
"How so?"
They stepped back out into the late afternoon heat, onto the main road through the Gate District. The burning sun barely touched Jak, deflected by his wet clothes as if he were wearing his own air conditioning. He decided to pretend it had been intentional. Just in case someone asked why his clothes were all wet.
They were led towards the end of a row of houses built into the city wall, leading to an impressibly high flight of stairs into some kind of coliseum. Strom did his best to explain as he led them up the stairs, but he wasn't usually the guy they called for rookie orientation for a reason.
"It's um. So- okay look. The Arena sublevels are divided into three floors: the hospital, the armory, and the barracks. Barracks are split between militia, citizen candidates, and teenage Squads."
He didn't explain Squads.
"You're going to end up in that last one -- probably Dorm 4, that's where they put orphans or unregistered foundlings."
"Orphans?!" Daxter chirped indignantly. Then he paused. "I mean. I guess it's accurate, but you didn't have to say it!"
They didn't end up in Dorm 4.
The Resident Advisor took one look at the slightly dusty, slightly soggy, boy and ottsel and assigned them to an empty bunk in the second hall, Dorm 2. Jak was handed a canteen and a folded set of sheets before being unceremoniously ushered down the hall and into a sparse dorm room holding two bunk beds. For the moment, it was empty.
"Lights are out at 9 bells, no exceptions unless you got a case of the screaming meemies," the RA said gruffly. He pointed at a bottom bunk without sheets -- Jak's, apparently.
"You're responsible for keeping that bunk at least clean enough to pass weekly room checks. Check the schedule on the wall if you want to know when mess hall is open. If you miss that, you can hit the markets, but you're on your own for paying for it."
Jak eyed the bunk uncomfortably. He was responsible for maintaining this bed? He probably wasn't even going to be here that long! He cringed when the RA pushed a twelve by six metal box across the floor with a terrible scratching sound.
"That's your footlocker. If you want a lock, get it yourself. You kids keep losin' em and now we're out." The RA snorted. "But most of the squad in your room is on home rotation this week, so you only have to worry about maybe Sam stealing your stuff. He won't, by the way. Too busy training."
He turned to go, then turned back quickly. "Oh. Gotta confiscate your gun mods, so don't lose your marbles when you get your gun back plain."
"The rot you do!" Jak protested, "I earned those!"
"Don't care." The RA shrugged. "None of your dormmates have and I don't want 'em getting ideas about "borrowing" em."
With a stern warning not to start any fights, and to not miss allotted mealtimes if he didn't want to go hungry, the RA keft Jak alone with Daxter. They stood in the center of the room, blinking incredulously.
"Well..." Jak said after several seconds, "It's not a cell."
"Or an alley," Daxter agreed.
He hopped down and examined the mattress. Nothing fancy, but it was miles better than they were used to.
"Here, gimme the fitted sheet."
"What's a fitted sheet?"
"The one with the stretchy corners." Daxter pointed. "That's the one that goes on the bottom. Wraps around so it don't get pulled off if you roll around a lot."
"...oh. Weird."
Jak handed the thing to Daxter and watched in fascination as his friend set about attaching one corner at a time. It looked difficult.
Before he could offer help, his talk-box activated. That was a bit of a surprise. They'd been traveling for two days already and nobody had made a peep. Daxter had thought they'd have noticed the first time he turned off the location tracker!
"Jak! Jak, where are you?!"
Samos. Jak's stomach churned.
"Don't know," he answered flippantly. "I think we just got put in an orphanage."
"Don't be ridiculous! Get out of whatever nonsense you two knuckleheads have walked into and get back to Main Town! Something is going on, and I need time to investigate without those blasted Deathbots shooting at me!"
"Life's hard."
"What did you just say?"
Jak scoffed, feeling a little of the bubbling anger of dark eco in his core.
"You can't handle a little gunfire? You didn't have an issue making a couple kids walk into it daily. You'll figure it out."
"How can you say something so horrible to me?! I raised you to be a hero, Jak! You sound like that mercenary!"
Jak snorted."Well good. Sig's the only adult in that city I still trust."
Samos sputtered for several seconds in helpless, bewildered anger. Then he gathered himself.
"Get over yourself, Jak! Lives are at stake! I don't care what you're playing at, you turn around and get back here before something worse happens!"
Jak rolled his eyes. The sage sounded like Ashelin. He tossed Daxter the top sheet and studied the foot locker, wondering if he should use it.
"Nah, can't."
"What do you mean "can't?"
Jak shrugged as if Samos could see him. As if Daxter hadn't placed a piece of tape over the lens when he got tired of the spying.
"Oracle says I'm not done out here. Wherever "here" is. Lay off, wouldja? The Precursors sent me out here!"
He listened to Samos's stunned silence a moment before dryly asking, "Did you think they only spoke to Onin, or-?"
"But-" the old sage stammered, "But why would the Precursors send you from us when our need was greatest?"
"Probably because yours isn't the only city in the world? There are other people out there, Haven can get over itself," Jak flung the sage's words right back at him.
"What makes you think there's anything beyond the walls other than ruined wastes?"
"Those eco shipments for Praxis were coming from somewhere," Jak reasoned. Then his voice darkened to match his mood.
"There's no law that says I can't investigate. Sandover may have turned into Haven, but that doesn't mean I'm chained to it. You people already tried that, remember?"
"Jak!"
"I think the Precursors want me to find out who else survived," Jak said, though he wasn't sure that was it at all.
"I'll let you know if I find any sages."
"But Jak-!"
"Have to go, Samos. That hall monitor guy didn't say comm calls weren't allowed in the dorms but I need this thing, so I'm not taking chances."
He ended the call before Samos could make more than an outraged cough. When he looked down, Daxter was watching him with a funny expression.
"What?" he asked, a bit defensively.
"Nothin," Daxter said, unconvincingly. Then he gave a bittersweet grin. "Just never heard you stand up to Loghead like that before."
Jak looked away. "Should've been fighting him from day one. Like you. You knew he was bad news from the start, didn't you?"
Daxter rubbed his arm ruefully. "I um. I don't got a lot of memories of my folks. I was pretty little when the shark got em. But I remember my old man saying "Never trust a man who won't apologize to a kid", and then Samos came through dragging you. An'...an' you cried that whole first day, kept pointing to the sky and making a circle with your arms. And Samos ignored you."
Jak swallowed hard. "I don't remember that," he said softly. "Or much of Sandover at all now."
He sat down on the floor next to Daxter. The thanks he'd given Samos just weeks ago sat sour in his stomach. The real person he should've thanked had been right there beside him and he'd overlooked him just like Samos always did.
"Daxter?" he said gravely, "Thank you. For everything. All of it. I wouldn't be here without you."
Daxter leaned against his shoulder. "Well duh," he joked, trying to lighten a somber moment, "Heroes don't leave their sidekicks with weirdos! It goes against the bro code!"
Then he sobered.
"For the record, I don't blame ya for not knowing he had his hooks in ya. He um. I mean, you were real little, y'know? I think you maybe stuck with him at first because he was the only familiar face, and he used that against ya."
Jak laughed bitterly. "I wonder if I'd have had the guts to say all that if he was actually here?"
Daxter recognized the beginning of a spiral and elbowed him hard in the ribs.
"Well he ain't! And we're not gonna will that into existence with what-ifs!"
He scurried up onto the bunk and spread out in the middle of the mattress.
"Ahhhh! Hey, are you gonna know which morph gun is ours when we get the key to that gun locker?"
Jak pushed him to one side and, after a moment's debate, unlaced his boots.
"The stock on mine looks striped because of all the tally marks on it. The others are completely blank."
"Oh! Didn't see that!"
Reluctantly, Jak took off his goggles and gauntlets and dropped them into the foot locker. At least if it didn't have a lock, he could get them back out at a moment's notice. His knife and amulet he kept on him.
The Call hadn't subsided. He still felt it, and he still didn't know what it meant. So for now, that seemed to mean staying in this hostel/barrack/orphanage combination with more Wastelanders than he'd ever known existed. At least they were Wastelanders and not soldiers. He would've slept on the streets before letting them put him in a dorm with soldiers.
The wall schedule said that the cafeteria didn't open until 6 bells after noon. That left roughly an hour before they could find out if they were allowed to take anything from it.
For a time, Jak occupied himself by polishing his channeling ring with his damp scarf. Daxter tried and failed to braid Jak's hair, but the condition it was in was just too poor.
"Pal," Daxter said reluctantly, "I don't think these mats are comin' out."
Jak sighed in resignation. He'd wanted to avoid this -- the only haircut he could remember had been a traumatic buzzcut because a KG accidentally spread bugs through the cell block -- and got himself a spot in the cell two doors down from Jak when the bugs spread to Errol. (Who was absolutely hideous with a buzz cut, and was in utter anguish about his "beautiful hair". Couldn't have happened to a nicer person. It had been the absolute highlight of Jak's entire year.)
Jak took his knife, sheath and all, from the back of his belt and held it out to Daxter.
"Do what you gotta do," he groaned, "Just don't cut it all off."
The roommate who wasn't on "home rotation", whatever that was, came back midway through the haircut. In his state of exhaustion, he didn't actually see Daxter.
"Your...hair is falling off," he mumbled in confusion.
"It's on purpose," Jak said.
"Oh."
Sam leaned against the door to pry off his boots, then blinked.
"Wait, what?"
"He's getting a haircut, doofus!" Daxter sniped.
"Ohhhhkay, the kangarat is talking." Sam dropped his boot and stared with very wide eyes. "Cooooolll coolcoolcool everything's cool."
"Ottsel, not rat," Jak corrected. "Daxter is sensitive about that."
"...uh-huh..."
Sam swung a gear bag up over the top of the top bunk bed post. With little effort, he swung himself up the ladder after it. Apparently he shared the bunk Jak had been assigned.
"Are you new? I don't remember you," he yawned.
"First day here," Jak admitted, "still dunno what's going on."
Silence for a few seconds. Then, "So...does that mean you came from Outside?"
"I guess? Don't know how I got here from Haven, but I'm not complaining."
"Oh."
Sudden Sam was leaning over the rail of the bunk, spiky blonde hair falling in his face.
"No kidding? Me too! I mean, I ran away from Kras, but. Stowed away on a cargo ship and got caught at the docks."
Kras. The name was familiar. Something to do with racing, but Jak hadn't been paying attention.
"So you planning on the Arena too?" asked Sam.
"I still don't know what the Arena is," Jak said pointedly. "Is it for races?"
"See, that's what I thought at first!" Sam exclaimed, "But apparently the only races they do in there are Leapers. It's kinda a community place? Big meetings, festivals, executions, games, theater, combat trials-"
"Festivals?" Jak was mildly intrigued.
"Executions?!" Daxter was not.
"Yeah man. Though to be fair, there's so many ways to die normally outside the walls that it takes a lot to get the death sentence around here. You have to do something really bad for Lord Damas to kill you himself. Like "engaged in the slave trade" or "abused a kid" or "betrayed the city to enemies" kind of bad. Stuff that dishonors a warrior's name for life. Otherwise he gives you a chance for pardon in combat trials."
Jak squinted up at their temporary roommate. "How...does that work, exactly?"
Sam rolled back onto his mattress with a noncommittal sound.
"Depends on whatcha did I think. Smaller offenses you gotta fight a metalhead. Bigger offenses get you more than one metalhead. If it's bad but not death sentence bad, you fight other Wastelanders who already know how you fight."
"Remind me not to get on these guys' bad sides," Daxter stage-whispered.
"So then why would I enter the Arena if I didn't do anything wrong?" Jak pushed.
"Oh yeah, that's the other thing. Civvy candidates who want to be permanent residents gotta prove they can survive the three main dangers of the Wasteland: enemy shooters, treacherous terrain, and lava. So the king makes us do combat trials simulating those conditions until he's satisfied that we won't like. Immediately die if he lets us outside."
Jak considered this for a moment.
"Fair enough," he decided.
"No??? It's not??" Daxter finished slicing off the last mat and gave Jak an appalled look. "Precisely none of that is normal!"
Jak swept the clumps of hair onto the floor and leaned back to let Daxter continue braiding what was left.
"So...you prove you can handle yourself, and they let you stay?"
Sam reappeared over the rail. "Well, you also gotta prove you're willing to work. They don't like lazy people out here, everybody does at least one thing that keeps Spargus operational, even if it's just sweeping the sand out of the stables -- which is about all they let me do on account of last time-"
"What happened last time?" Daxter asked as he finished tying off three fishbone-braids.
They could almost hear the wince.
"I...kind of...failed so hard at wall patching that I dropped an entire bucket of wet clay on a district representative. He got a concussion. It was bad."
There was a chagrined silence, but then Sam rallied. "So yeah, I'm not allowed near construction equipment anymore and I can't switch chores yet. All kids get maximum one job a day, but you get to pick what you do once you either turn nineteen, or get through the third trial."
Wheels were beginning to turn in Jak’s mind. He'd never given much thought to the future, but what if he just. Didn't go back to Haven? What if the crisis ended and he didn't go back? Might be nice to have a place like this on standby.
"So that what the grouch-in-chief said you're training for?" Daxter asked.
"Yep! Already got my first amulet and gun mod!" Sam said cheerfully. "First full trial hurts like a son-of-a-cob, but at least Scatter rounds are non-lethal."
"No they're not?" Jak sputtered.
"Yes they are?" Sam wrinkled his nose. "Scatterguns are what they give kids and civvy candidates because it's not live ammo?"
"No," Jak argued, "You can definitely kill with Scatter rounds. It just takes like six shots."
Sam stared at him with wide eyes.
"What the rot, dude," he whispered.
"What?!"
"You're telling me you've killed people with a practice gun?!"
"Well- well Haven doesn't know they're practice guns!" Jak defended.
"Okay..." Sam grimaced. "Well. Don't do that in your first trial. Only way anyone is supposed to be able to die is if they try to prioritize hunting an opponent over avoiding lava."
"None of this is making me want to try this Arena thing!" Daxter complained.
"What's the second trial?" Jak ignored Daxter's complaints.
Sam looked a little unsure suddenly. "Yellow eco trial. That's um. That's going to be my first combat to the death. And not many candidates signed up for this month's trial so it's just me and three others against a Marauder crew they captured."
"Marauders?"
"Colonists from the mainland," Sam explained. "They're wannabe Wastelanders and I'm pretty sure they're all insane because they run around out there with no shirts, ever. They also run most of the slave trade between Haven and their colony."
Jak's eyes darkened.
"They're slavers?"
"Yep." Sam shuddered. "I've seen some of the survivors brought back when the Wastelanders raid their camps or when Marauder defectors start a riot. They've been through it. And like half the Arena Guard are survivors of the Marauders, so the ring isn't where you wanna end up if you're a blood merchant."
"It's not the guards they should worry about," Jak muttered darkly. Before Sam could ask what he meant, he looked up. "So if you get through three trials, then what?"
"Full rights as a citizen, same as if you were born here."
There was a glint in Jak’s eyes that only Daxter could see, and it Concerned him.
"Ja-aak, nooo-" Daxter groaned, but he knew it was useless.
"I'll go in with you, when they do the trial," Jak offered. "World could always use one less slaver."
"For real?" Sam raised his brows. "You've only been here a day, dude. You need to do some training before you're ready for that."
"Haven's an active warzone," Jak retorted, "and I got forced onto the frontlines for a year. I'll be fine."
"I mean. If you're sure," Sam relented, "I wouldn't mind the company."
"I would," Daxter grumbled under his breath. "I have some objections!"
So, it turned out, did Damas.
42 notes · View notes