#out of the jungle

[humming-fly]

was anyone gonna tell me shadow saved rouge's life in sa2 or was I just supposed to find that out playing the game myself

(this worked out as a rather fitting closer for the Final Day in Year of Shadow haha, hope ya'll have a fun new year! 🎉🎉🎉)

[happyheidi]

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ. May will bring blessings.

ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

[atompalace-official]

Celebi and Serperior in Pokémon TCGP:

[disease]

ALEXANDER MCQUEEN A/W '97-98 "IT'S A JUNGLE OUT THERE"

[eldstunga]

Temerity and her Home

[zegalba]

Alexander McQueen: "It's A Jungle Out There" Autumn/Winter 1997

[gael-garcia]

“My journey has been very free. I’ve been able to work in different parts of the world and on projects that don’t necessarily obey a typical journey of a person that wants to be famous or work in film. I want young actors to know you don’t have to follow a set line to have a career. Sometimes the line is drawn for actors from the English language. But in my case I can reinvent myself all the time.” — Gael García Bernal (Total Film, 07/2021)

Also: Uruguay (El ojo en la nuca, 2001), Sweden & Thailand (Mammoth 2010), Canada (Blindness 2008, Zoom 2015), Brazil (El pasado 2007, Zoom 2015), Serbia (Zalet), Germany (Herzog's Salt&Fire 2016), Cuba (Wasp Network, 2019), Dominican Republic (Old, 2021)

[sofusenpai]

fjorn as a woodwarder! teaching his little apprentice

[ethosiab]

still feels unreal that there was a solid two months or so where we got regular 2 hour uploads from etho. god is real (in the form of tangotek)

[allthewhumpygoodness]

Right now ADORING the....hmmm idk even what to call it. The "character on the run in an unfamiliar city, trying to survive out on the streets while remaining anonymous, forming NO connections whatsoever and going at it completely alone because for whatever reason they can't trust anyone -- anybody could be one of Them -- so they grit their teeth against the cold, the fear, the sheer loneliness of their situation as long as they can....until of course they get injured or sick badly enough that they *need* to rely on someone else despite their suspicion.....

[0vergrowngraveyard]

warm up thing

the neighbors of all time

[skaiansatellites]

you're telling me that the next almost uncomfortably close approach of an asteroid will be on 4 fucking 13 on the 20th anniversary of homestuck beginning

[jackyjackdraws]

Even more cloud painting and natural light practice with the boys

Nothing better than some old men during a morning hike!

[capquinn]

hungover and the only thing that will bring me comfort is knowing how Quinn, Bug, and family celebrated the new year back in Vancouver since he wasn’t with the team due to injury 🤣

happy new year, sweet nonny!!!! this is far too late but its fine!!! nye is a state of mind. hope u enjoy! <3

New Year’s Eve unfolded quietly, wrapped in the soft hum of family life. The world outside buzzed with plans, celebrations, and countdowns, but inside, the four of you moved at your own rhythm. It was quieter this year — different, maybe, but in the best way. Quinn’s injury meant he hadn’t traveled with the team, and while that usually would’ve tugged at him, on New Years Eve, he felt nothing but gratitude. He was right where he was meant to be: at home with his babies — one nestled safely in his cot, the other sprawled across the living room rug — and you, steady as ever, his anchor in every way, right by his side.

Cubby had gone down like clockwork, his little eyes fluttering shut before the clock even struck seven. Quinn had lingered in the nursery after tucking him in, one hand resting gently on Cub’s back, feeling the soft rise and fall of his breaths. The dim glow of the nightlight painted the room in quiet warmth, and he stood there longer than necessary, savouring these last hours of 2024 with his tiny boy, and he didn’t leave until the weight of time gently nudged him to.

When he finally joined you in the living room, Bug had been sprawled out on the floor in her pyjamas, half-heartedly building something with her blocks while the movie she’d so confidently picked out droned on in the background.

“She’s holding on,” Quinn murmured, dropping onto the couch beside you, his lips curving into a small smile. “Barely.”

You laughed, watching as Bug stifled a yawn, her hand moving to rub her eyes. “I give her ten minutes.”

“Five,” Quinn countered, stretching his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers brushing your shoulder.

And he had been right. Not even five minutes later, Bug abandoned her toys in favour of climbing onto Quinn’s lap, her little arms winding around his neck.

“I’m not sleepy,” she mumbled, her face pressed against his chest.

“No? Not even a little?” Quinn had teased her, his hand settling on her back, rubbing slow circles. She shook her head stubbornly but didn't protest when her eyes fluttered shut moments later.

“Didn’t even make it through the movie,” you whispered, leaning closer to stroke Bug’s hair. Quinn tilted, his head toward you, his lips brushing your temple.

“She tried,” he murmured, his voice low, full of fondness.

You and Quinn stayed like that for a while, speaking in soft tones as the minutes slipped closer to midnight. The wine bottle on the coffee table had lost its chill, your glasses half-full as you tipped them lazily between your fingers as his hand found yours, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles as the apartment settled into a quiet lull.

When the clock neared midnight, you nudged Quinn gently. He glanced down at Bug, her face slack with sleep, and smiled.

“Buggy,” he murmured, his voice coaxing but quiet. “C’mon, sweetheart, wake up. It’s almost time.”

Her eyes fluttered open, hazy with sleep but sparking with excitement as she realised what was happening.

“Fireworks?” she mumbled, her voice soft, hopeful.

“Yeah, baby,” you said, tucking the blanket more securely around her shoulders as Quinn scooped her into his arms. “Let’s go see.”

You followed them out to the veranda, draping your cardigan over your shoulders as the chill of the Vancouver night greeted you. Quinn adjusted Bug on his hip, her head resting against his shoulder, her tiny hand clutching his shirt.

Quinn’s gaze never left her, his own awe eclipsed by hers. His lips quirked into a soft, lopsided smile, the kind that always seemed reserved just for her. The way her tiny mouth parted in wonder, her small fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt, made his chest ache in the best way.

He leaned his head slightly to the side, brushing a kiss against her temple, his voice soft and full of warmth as he murmured, “pretty cool, huh, Buggy?”

Bug nodded, her little arms wrapped tight around his neck as she rested her head against his shoulder. The next firework exploded higher, brighter — a brilliant white that illuminated everything for the briefest of moments, casting long shadows across the veranda where you were all huddled together.

Quinn’s gaze lingered on the sky for a brief moment, drawn to the vibrant bursts painting the night. Golds, reds, and blues fanned out like brushstrokes, lighting the city below in fleeting, brilliant colours. His lips twitched into a soft smile, caught in the beauty of it all — but only for a second. Because then his focus shifted, drawn to you.

The fireworks continued to explode overhead, but Quinn barely noticed. His attention settled on the way your cardigan slipped slightly off your shoulder, the faint chill of the night air brushing against your skin, and the way your lips softened into a small smile, your gaze alight with the same wonder Bug had, even as you stole a glance at her resting against his chest.

“Happy New Year, baby,” he murmured, his voice quieter now.

You turned your head toward him, your eyes meeting his, and the rest of the world seemed to fade into the background.

“Happy New Year,” you whispered back, your words carrying the kind of warmth that settled deep in his chest.

Above you, the finale began, a series of bursts that filled the sky in a symphony of light and sound. Bug gasped, her tiredness momentarily forgotten as she marvelled at the brilliant patterns weaving across the sky.

When the last firework faded and the city settled back into quiet, you scooped Cub from his cot, his tiny body still warm with sleep, while Quinn carried Bug to the bedroom. It was a tradition you’d started the first New Year’s Eve after Bug was born, when she was still so small, her tiny body nestled between the two of you in bed. Back then, you’d decided — almost offhandedly — that no matter where in the world life took you, you’d greet the New Year as a family, all together.

Bug sprawled out in the middle of the bed, her limbs stretched in every direction, while Cub curled against Quinn’s chest, one little hand fisting his shirt even in sleep. You tucked yourself close to Quinn’s other side, your hand resting lightly on his chest where Cub was nestled.

“Just like every year," Quinn murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. His lips lingered there for a moment, and you felt the warmth of his breath as he exhaled, his voice thick with quiet gratitude. His hand brushed lightly over Cub’s tiny back, the steady rise and fall of his breathing steadying them both.

You nestled closer, your fingers absently tracing small circles on his chest, where the soft fabric of his shirt met Cub’s delicate grip.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” you whispered, your voice drowsy.

Quinn glanced down at Bug, sprawled out in her usual starfish position, her little foot nudging against his thigh as she shifted in her sleep. A quiet chuckle rumbled through his chest, and he wrapped his arm more securely around you. You looked up at him then, catching the way his gaze lingered on the two of them — soft, awestruck, like he couldn’t quite believe this was his life.

You pressed a kiss to his shoulder, letting your eyes flutter shut, the sound of your babies’ soft, even breaths lulling you closer to sleep.

[realnyhiphop101]

The Jungle Brothers “Straight Out The Jungle” Era “Jim Browski”

[zegalba]

Alexander McQueen: “It's a Jungle Out There” Autumn/Winter 1997