#Oh and uh

[planet-poptropica]

⋆ The creation of the new Poptropica community motivated me to finally update formally known as Muddy Sword's ref sheet! It has been a couple years since her last one,,, so I thought it was about time. ⋆

⋆ If you have any questions about them, feel free to ask! I changed quite a bit about him that either didn't make sense or I didn't like,,, ⋆

[eye-of-yelough]

having the githyanki durge insanity again.

githyanki durge who rejected the culture of the aliens who share their face pre-tadpole.

who is immediately recognised as Wrong by Lae’zel and other gith. strange thing, talks like an Istik, skulks around instead of carrying themself with composure and dignity like all children of Gith should. should’ve been put down before hatching.

Githyanki durge who, despite all this, finds themself longing for their acceptance and welcome. who tries to earn their place.

who listens intently to Lae’zel’s stories

who Lae’zel teaches how to do their hair

who Lae’zel tells common githyanki names and their meanings to at their request, to try and see if any of them spark a memory, and when none of them do, they choose one as their new name.

githyanki durge who picks up on the language and learns more from Lae’zel (“no, it’s ghaik! put your throat into it, with all the disgust you can muster. they deserve no less.”)

who uses one of those words in front of Gortash, to his shock and horror, for they had never spoke in that tongue in all their partnership. he didn’t think they were physically capable.

githyanki durge who holds everything in their hands, in the presence of the Undying Queen, only to have it ripped away in an instant and be named enemy because of the knowledge their dream visitor holds, who they later find out to be a mind flayer.

[goobie-goobert]

Man get a load of these losers/aff

Callie WILL be drawn as a silly cat when I get home💥💥

[silly-ehggy]

I made a mp100 self insert cuz I'm and then my brother forced me to make him one that's his brother @save-me-im-feeling

(Reblogs over likes!!!)

[alto-tenure]

professor layton prequels + reincarnation

sources: Professor Layton and the Eternal Diva (novel; trans. LutiasKokopelli) / Professor Layton and the Azran Legacy / Professor Layton and the Illusory Forest (trans. unknown) / Professor Layton and the Azran Legacy / Professor Layton and the Eternal Diva (movie) / Professor Layton and the Miracle Mask

[sarahdesdemonaart]

TACO CAT BACKWARDS IS TACO CAT

[incorrect-shoujisquad]

mha as things my friend benji says

mineta: hey bakugou

bakugou: ew disgusting

mineta: whats disgusting is your attitude

bakugou: i hate that kid

bakugou: step on a landmine

iida: NO

bakugou: tell him to fall on a splitter

-------------

ojirou: you guys are cancer

-------------

sero: i dont know how to spell seemteegnces

sero: sentremces

shouji: i can see this

sero: senteexnces

sero: senteneeenvces

sero: jeezus

-------------

aizawa: she accidentally kicked a baby

-------------

masterlist i almost forgot

[doggyfood]

M

He's uh

..

He's cool •///•

[razberrybones]

being me is fun bc i'm a dog :)

im a golden retriever, and im a bernese mountain dog, im kind of just a puppy, little guy, a rough collie puppy specifically.

ourple dragon too :)

im actually made of light and sometimes have delicate little wings that are oh so pretty. anyone would give me anything i want but i only want to make them happy and encourage them.

i'm an owl, a barn owl. soft and almost holy looking, thats what he used to call me. he called me owl

[konfizry]

Nefarious, anti-Zelink localization choices in TotK

I would argue that they are not a thing.

So what I’ve been seeing, is mostly discourse around The House. 

Mainly, that one line in Zelda’s diary, where Zelda refers to the house as “my house” in the English text as seen below: 

The argument seems to be that she does not say “my house” in the original Japanese. I’ve even seen people go as far as to claim she wrote “our house”. Aight, let’s take a peek then:

So indeed, there is no trace of  私の家 (my house), but neither is there 私たちの家 (our house). It’s just 家 (”house” / “the house”). 

As you know.  Pronouns aren’t nearly as pervasive in japanese as they are in English. I do think it’d be strange for her to use a possessive here, like, you know. Given that we know that it’s this here house she’s referring to, y’know. And she’s writing in her own diary, there’s no need to specify. Like, It’s the house. This house. What other house is there that she had an extra room built at? None, of course, right. Right. 

So anyway, what’s the correct translation then? ~I don’t know.~ If you wanna stick close to the original jp’s lack of possessive here, you’d say “the house”, i guess, but listen: “my house” is a perfectly reasonable option, as well. I know some of y’all hate that it makes it sound like she’s excluding Link here, and sure you’re allowed to feel that way but. I. don’t think it’s wrong tbh honest??? 

And “our house” would have worked, too, probably, but then it would have leaned a littttttle too heavily on the Zelink and I can sort of understand that they want to keep it at least a little nebulous. (because 1. that is what they do and 2. it’s more fun that way)

And unfortunately “our house” would have also contradicted another little piece of info found in the Japanese version regarding... the well, again. more specifically what the game calls the well. 

In English it is referred to as Zelda’s Secret Well. And that is what it is. It is very much the well that was built for her own purposes, and it is a secret chamber. No complaints here.

The well is labeled a little differently in Japanese, tho. The game calls it ゼルダの家の井戸, which could translate to "Zelda's house's water well" or "the water well by Zelda's house" (or whatever else you can think of that has “Zelda’s house” and “well” in it, probably, im just giving examples so u get the idea).

(click here if you’re on desktop and can’t zoom in but want to)

So, in fact, you could say that in Japanese, the house is clearly stated to be Zelda’s house. Woops, back to square one it is, then. 

But do you see? Are you seeing? While Zelda does call it “my house” in the English text seemingly leaving no room for Link, you could also argue that the localization team went out of their way to not call it “Zelda’s house” when they absolutely could have. By calling the well “Zelda’s secret well” instead of going for a closer-to-the-original “well outside Zelda’s house”, they recreated a little bit of room for speculation. Wow!!!! Cool!! 

And this is just like. One little tidbit I decided to focus on, but my point is:

There is no secret anti-Zelink agenda in the localization team. Translating means making choices, you might disagree with some of them, but that does not make them wrong or vile, I don’t think. 

And the siege mentality I’ve seen some people adopt regarding Zelink strikes me as very misplaced. We are eating good. There is food aplenty. Why are you digging for extra scraps that may not even exist? 

Granted, comparing the original text with its translations can be super fun (heck I enjoy it, to an extent!), but try to think about your own attitude as you do so. Try to go into with curiosity and humility in your heart instead of righteous vindicativeness. You might find that more satisfying. 

Now of course, sometimes translation errors do occur, and criticism is warranted, but try to take a step back and ask yourself if this really means the localization team are a bunch of buffoons who either have no idea what they’re doing or are actively trying to ruin your Zelda experice, or if, perhaps, instead, sometimes people fuck up. For various reasons that you may not be aware of.

(Rereading this i now realize that i am tone-policing and. Yeah. I am. deal with it)

One more thing, you don’t have to believe randos who claim “X is canon in Japanese and they censored it in English”, especially if they’re not elaborating or providing evidence. (You can choose to believe them if you want to, at the end of the day, but just be aware that you believed without seeing. So think before you spread the word around, right?)

One final, final thing, you can always set your nintendo switch to Japanese and experience the game in its original language, for yourself. Isn’t that the coolest? I wish this was possible for all games. Thanks, Nintendo!

[zmediaoutlet]

this follows 'a vessel'

Sam cleans up. The wasted, half-used spell components go into the burn box. The turned-over chair picked up, and the shattered glass swept. The angel banishment sigil comes off the wall in the library pretty easily with borax and he drops the sponge in the bucket of swirled-red dirty water and could vomit. One last sweep and he finds two red drops, drying dark in the center of his research table. He takes a deep breath, chemical and stinging-clean. The spot comes off easily, too. There are a lot of good tricks they’ve learned for cleaning up blood.

The shower room’s empty. He strips the stolen sailor uniform and leaves it in a pile in the corner. The water comes down hot and he gives himself the space of twenty even breaths, in and out, to stand there and think nothing at all. Steam in his lungs. The pressure like needles at the back of his neck, only safe because it’s just water. When that’s done he washes his hair and soaps his body and gets the red rime out from under his fingernails, and when that’s done, when he’s toweling off in the bright quiet, it’s not—better isn’t the word. But the base he’s operating from isn’t as awful. That counts for something.

When he opens his bedroom door Deanna’s sitting on the edge of his mattress. “Thought you’d decided to run off to the navy,” she says.

She’s in what counts for her as full pajamas: those washed-to-death blue flannel pants, a black shirt of Sam’s she stole years ago. She has to roll the sleeves back over her wrists. There’s a glass of whiskey in her hand but it isn’t empty, and she didn’t bring the bottle for refills. She runs one thumb over the rim of the crystal and smiles very briefly at Sam’s face and then looks down at her hands.

Sam wishes he’d brought something with him to the shower. If it were another day she’d be making a crack about his towel. He sits beside her, carefully, and for lack of a glass he folds his hands between his knees. The bunker air cool on his shoulders.

A sigh. She stretches her legs out, toes pointed. Mostly unpainted these days, small and neat. Her hand turns over on her thigh and she seems to be looking at her palm, and then she sets her curled fist on Sam’s thigh instead. The smallest weight through the terrycloth.

“The sub went down?” she says. Sam nods and she nods, too, slower. “You try to save it?”

Delphine’s hands reaching into the case for the Hand of God. Red lights strobing all around and her eyes steady on Sam’s, sure, while a wildfire of grace roared through the dark ocean. “I think it didn’t make a difference whether I was there or not,” Sam says. He turns his head and Deanna’s biting her lip. The pressure in his chest feels like it’ll put him on the floor. “I wish I’d been here.”

Her eyes close. “I don’t know if that would’ve made a difference, either.”

Not said cruelly and it’s probably true. Some dumb male instinct claws at the underside of his heart, anyway.

The lump of wood is inert, now. He’ll wrap it in cloth and put it in a spelled cedar case in the archives and mark it down in the ledgers. Even if it ended up being pointless, except inasmuch as it made a mask fall to the floor.

He takes a deep breath, lets it out. Says, “Can I ask?”

Her toes scrunch against the concrete, then relax. Her fist still on his thigh, her eyes still closed. Face smooth and serene except for the bruise coming up on her cheek. From what exactly Sam doesn’t know; he’s been imagining it for the past two hours.

“Are you hurt?” he says, in the quiet. “More than…” Her head tips down and he licks his lips even though his mouth feels dry. “I just—I know he—when he—”

Her hand grips his thigh through the towel. “Sammy,” she says, interrupting, and he cuts off the stupid stumbling, his face hot. “Hey.”

“Sorry,” he says, and she shakes her head, and then shakes his leg gently, too. A weird deep pulse of what he’s got plenty of experience to recognize as shame goes through him as a wave, from the pit of his stomach to his chest to the hair on the back of his neck, and then he breathes it out and just feels cold. He takes her hand in one of his and she lets him, their fingers lacing together on top of his leg. Her fingers are cold, too.

“It’s not like it’s the first time,” she says, after a few seconds.

Almost like she’s trying to make him feel better. There are a lot of things he thinks to say but he’s got a lot of practice not saying things, especially when they’re all jostling for first place. She’s walking around and talking and not dead. There have been worse times. He knows there are others he doesn’t know about and probably never will. But this—he knows this one. His first and only. Not the worst thing that’s ever happened to him, not even the worst by those particular hands, but nothing he’d ever wanted to share with his sister. Thought they’d been spared this one thing.

“If it helps,” she says, when he’s been quiet too long, “it wasn’t—about me. He was screwing with Cas and he wanted to hurt you. Just collateral damage.”

“How would that help,” Sam says, before he can stop himself, and Deanna sighs and says, “I don’t know, Sam,” and pulls at their linked hands but Sam doesn’t let her go, instinct making his fingers tighten. He feels like an ass immediately but Deanna doesn’t tug away. Instead her body turns in, toward his. Her weight tipping and her temple coming down to his bare shoulder. She’s warm, her knee bumping his. Their hands vaguely sweaty now, together. He tucks her hair back behind her ear, thick and barely-damp from her own shower, and her face turns in toward his chest, her lips against his skin although she doesn’t kiss.

All the things he wishes hadn’t happened in their lives make a list that’d be near uncountable. This is pretty near the top. If wishes were horses—but they never have been, and never will. He runs his thumb over hers, careful where the nail tore. “What do you want me to do?” he says.

“Nothing,” she says. Then she takes a deep quick breath, almost like she got hit, and pulls her hand out of his and sits up and drags her fingers over her eyes, pressing hard into the sockets like it hurts. Then drops her hands, and looks out into the dim of the room, and presses her lips together very tightly in a white severe line, and then—blows out, slow, her shoulders sinking as she does, and then turns her head and looks at him in this way that’s just—tired, but only like at the end of a long day, when they’ve been through the wringer and a lot’s gone wrong but they’re still here, together, and despite everything the sun’s going to come up anyway.

“Put on some boxers,” Deanna says. One corner of her mouth turns up. “Exhibitionist. Then I want to sleep. I want you here. And you’re not allowed to bitch about cold toes.”

Sam truly doesn’t know how she does it. “Wouldn’t have to if you’d just wear socks,” he manages.

Her nose wrinkles. “Just accept your role as the human radiator, okay,” she says, and then drains her whiskey in one swallow and puts the empty glass on the bedside table. She turns back the blankets and climbs in while Sam obediently goes to his chest of drawers, and finds clean boxer-briefs, and Deanna watches him with her head propped on her fist while he drops the towel, tugs on underwear, goes to the sink and drinks a cupful of cold water and then refills the cup and brings it to her. She drinks it down, and he puts the empty next to the whiskey tumbler, and then he climbs in and pulls up the blankets and she folds herself in against his chest, her head under his chin and her arm around his waist and her toes freezing, always, against his skin. Reliable as gravity.

He presses his lips against the top of her head. Her breath shudders, once, and then she squirms in closer and lays still. His back’s to the door and he knows he won’t sleep but that doesn’t matter. It’s like that night, all those years ago, before they went to Detroit. His arm around his sister and his mind full of the devil. Knowing that he’d do anything to stop him from hurting her; knowing that to stop that was almost impossible; knowing that even if it were impossible, with the last ounce of strength he had he’d still try. What else is there to do.

[tcub123]

(Andras, with a spade in hand, is guiding a 6-year-old Janet, her small hands clutching a tiny sapling, its roots wrapped in burlap, ready to be planted.)

ANDRAS: (With an encouraging smile) Today, we're going to plant this tree, Janet. It's going to grow tall and strong, just like you, love.

(Janet looks up at him, her eyes wide with wonder, as she gently pats the soil around the sapling they've just planted together.)

JANET: Will it grow as tall as the sky, Andras?

ANDRAS: (Chuckling) Maybe not that tall, but it will reach for the clouds.

(They work together, Andras showing her how to press the soil, ensuring the tree is firmly planted)

JANET: Can we name it? The tree?

ANDRAS: Of course. What name would you like to give it?

(Janet thinks for a moment, her gaze flitting around the garden, landing finally on the tree with pride in her eyes)

JANET: Hmm.

Let's call it Hope. Because it's going to keep growing and never give up.

ANDRAS: (Nods approvingly) Hope it is! That is actually perfect. You do really have a knack for naming things.

(They finish their task, standing back to admire their work. Andras places a gentle hand on Janet's shoulder.)

ANDRAS: This tree will be here for years to come. Care for it, Janet. If you do, our Spring Court will always have hope.

=====

ANDRAS: ...

JANET: (sleeping soundly)

ANDRAS: (sneaks some flowers and a letter on the table)

JANET: (whispers) Andras?

ANDRAS: Did I wake you, love? I'm sorry.

JANET: (rubs her eyes) It's okay. I'm too tired to sleep, anyway.

ANDRAS: (sits on the edge of the bed) I know, sweetheart, but you need to rest. You are still sick.

JANET: (pouts) You haven't told me a story.

ANDRAS: (smiles) Alright. I suppose having a cold doesn't excuse not having a bedtime tale. What would you like to hear about?

JANET: A new story.

ANDRAS: A new one it is.

Once upon a time, there was a tiny golden cub named Tammy. Despite his shimmering fur and noble lineage, felt very lonely in the vast forest. His family expected so much from him, and yet, they never showed him the kindness he craved.

JANET: Was Tammy really lonely?

ANDRAS: Very lonely, until one day, while wandering the woods, the cub stumbled upon a grey wolf pup.

JANET: Did the wolf pup have a name?

ANDRAS: Yes, he did. Andy, he went by.

JANET: (giggles) Like you!

ANDRAS: (chuckles) Yes, just like me. Now, this pup saw the golden cub all alone and, despite the cub being from a realm often at odds with his own, the wolf couldn't ignore the sadness in the cub's eyes. They were both good for the same thing, something they both didn't enjoy.

The wolf pup was far, far more fortunate than the cub.

The pup had a family who loved him, and he loved them in return.

JANET: So, what did he do?

ANDRAS: The pup approached the cub, his steps careful not to startle him. 'Little cub, why do you walk alone?' he asked. The cub, surprised by the wolf's curious tone, shared his woes, speaking of his cold home.

JANET: (sadly) That's not nice. Everyone should have friends.

ANDRAS: Indeed, they should. Mama Wolf taught the pup to share the love she gave him with others. And so, the pup made a vow that day to be the cub's friend and family, to protect him and show him the wonders of the forest, to teach him the joy of companionship. They befriended a fox, Lucy, along the way.

JANET: (excitedly) And did Tammy finally become happy?

ANDRAS: Over time, he did. Tammy the golden cub, who felt so small and insignificant, began to see his own worth through the eyes of his friends. They embarked on adventures, faced challenges together, and the cub grew strong and confident.

JANET: Like a real golden lion!

ANDRAS: Exactly! The cub became a magnificent lion, admired by all. He became a just and fair king of the forest, always fighting for his friends and standing up for what was right.

JANET: (yawning) I like Tammy. He's amazing.

ANDRAS: ...I like him too.

JANET: I'll get better tomorrow, Andras. One day, I will be as strong as Tammy. Will you be my Andy then?

ANDRAS: Of course, love. I swear it on my honour as a sentry. Now, off to sleep you go.

JANET: Goodnight, Andras.

=====

ANDRAS: (holds Janet's lifeless hand as she lies crumbling on the bed, her legs turned to petals as they fall apart)

ANDRAS: I have to go now, Janet.

ANDRAS: I promise you will walk again.

ANDRAS: I promise you will see me again.

ANDRAS: And the trees we planted shall never wilt.

ANDRAS: ...No matter what it takes.

=====

ANDRAS: ... (critically injured)

CASSIAN: How is he still alive without that?

RHYSAND: Watch out for that spear, Cass!

ANDRAS: "And I will laugh in the face of Death."

NESTA: (readies Ataraxia)

ANDRAS: Gáe Bulg.

=====

JANET: (Picking up two action figures, she animates them with her hands, her voice adopting different tones for each character) "And here comes Andras, the bravest of all, to save the kingdom from the terrible dragon!"

(She makes one figure, representing Andras, swoop in to confront the other, a makeshift dragon.)

(She constructs elaborate scenarios, each tale more fantastical than the last, where Andras battles scary foes, uncovers treasures, and always, always returns home to cheers and joy.)

JANET: (Arranging her stuffed animals into an audience, she narrates) "And so, the people of the land celebrated Andras's return, throwing a grand feast in his honor. They knew he would always be there to protect them."

(Her small hands clap softly, mimicking the applause of her imagined crowd.)

(In these stories, Janet gives Andras invincible qualities, inspired by the wondrous tales he told her. Her narrative always ends with Andras coming home unharmed.)

JANET: (Holding a doll that resembles her, she speaks in a high-pitched voice)

"Thank you, Andras, for coming back. We all missed you so much!"

(She makes the Andras figure hug the doll.)

(As night falls, Janet carefully places the figures back in their box, keeping the doll Andras with her in bed.)

JANET: (Whispering) Goodnight, Andras. In my stories, you always come back. Maybe tomorrow, you will for real.

[raytorosguitarstrap]

scrolling through all these reblogs of the same crying freddy krueger voice makes me realize what everyone else feels when i reblog friday fred like 17 times /lh

taste of ur own medicine...😈 /Lh :33

[moonydabest]

Howdy! I just wanted to tell you a couple things:

1. Thanks for all the reblogs and such!! Your tags were really funny and interesting to read! :D

2. I remember you tagging how you liked Eddie's bowtie from my Children's Hospital AU, so I brought him here to give you one too!

Enjoy your new butterfly bowtie!! :)

I AM. GOING TO LOSE MY MIND. First off, before I devolve into a gushing mess: thank you! Your art is extraordinarily tasty. What program do you use?

Second: HELLO THERE. YOU ARE. AMAZING. I AM GOING TO SCREAM. INTERNALLY. THIS ISN'T SCREAMING I'M JUST SPEAKING IN CAPS DON'T EVEN WORRY ABOUT IT. IT'S. it's PURPLE THAT IS MY FAVORITE COLOR HOW DID YOU KNOW??? IT'S. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Thank you so much. This is it, I'm dying of cuteness overdose. There is no cure. Smh can't believe it.

[maraeffect]

okay today was like the first time since surgery that i've been able to exist as a human outside my house!! and i had a great time even though i am PAYING FOR IT. HEAVILY 💀

[helinedmightbehere]

it's helined! back at it again with another au idea!!!

basically

after sunny boy kills bloodmoon, their nanomachines latch onto lunar's body. since they were also made of nanomachines, it was easier for them to hide without anyone knowing. the only signs that they were there was that lunar's thoughts got a littleee more violent, but that was it. they were mostly dormant and asleep until, well, you'll see

after eclipse kills solar flare (rip), they quickly upload a backup to one of the computers in the base before eclipse could fully delete them. they discover one of eclipse's files that was attached to lunars code and they slip in, fearing that eclipse may delete them from the computer as well. they stayed dormant as well, until-

kc kills lunar, since he did say he was going to. he sorta,,,,abandons their body in the woods until someone finds them. the person that finds him just so happens to be a repairman for fazco, so they fix him up what that person doesn't know is that two bloodthirsty killers and a guy with an elizabeth afton complex (/j) are also possessing lunar's body

lunar is aware of the trio's existence in his mind and uh

they don't really know what to do with the three-

they all just kinda co-exist but none of them are happy with the situation