#sky 🐦

[bvadmin]

I remembered that today is Friday, so... I'm drawing now, I'll answer the question later / Я вспомнил что сегодня пятница, поэтому... Рисую теперь, отвечу на вопрос позже

And it's like... A VERY BIG SPOILER (I love throwing spoilers too much)... eh / Да и это как...ОЧЕНЬ БОЛЬШОЙ СПОЙЛЕР (я слишком люблю спойлеры кидать)...эх

[anatinagender]

Genderguérison (masculine, feminine, and neutral versions respectively) 🌼🌼-🌞🌞-🌼🌼-🌞🌞-🌼🌼

1. Genderguérison - a gender that results from one's own healing from past events (i.e., trauma, health conditions, etc.) Derivation and pronunciation: Derived from French, “guérison” meaning “healing, recovery” Pronunciation: /ɡe.ʁi.zɔ̃/ (ge-ree-zon)

[hyruleisforever99]

send me 🕯️to hear my character's inner thoughts about your character. - SS Link 👀💙

" You cannot go to him, your grace. Remember what we discussed. Restrain yourself. Focus upon the task at hand. " Impa says sternly.

Zelda nods wordlessly she's right she most focus upon her own task as much as it breaks her heart to not be able to go Link it's first time she's seen him since falling down here to this world below the clouds, and to think she once playing the goddess was just some silly thing to play after the race.

Slowly she turns around then stops and looks over her shoulder, she must learn more now she doesn't even try to hide the utter grief in her voice. " I---i have to go. I'm sorry Link."

" Please be safe Link. There is nothing more then i want to rush to you and fling my arms around you right now, but i can't... i am so sorry. I will see you again soon..... i hope." Those are the unspoken words upon her lips

Then she fully turns around and walks through the divinely golden portal to be sent ahead to learn more about the role she will play in this destiny.

[jttlpgroup]

Sky 🌼 8153   http://www.steveb29.com/2024/06/blog-post_401.html

[multifangrell]

My first post in 2025!🎉

We got dem Big Boi Pants~♡

Eden got weird again (this was last week haha)

My new friends and I made this~😘 It's not perfect, but it's cute.💙

AND I WISH SKY WOULD ADD SOME PETS😭🕊 I only got this birb that follows me whenever I visit Wind Paths🥹 (You'll find it on top of a railing, at center island.)

[thinkingsmart]

Sky 🌼 21876 Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God. 💫🙏   https://ift.tt/4eYNkIx

[aleksatia]

You went for a drive out of the city, and during a coffee stop, you decided to break the news in a creative way. You had "Best Dad Ever" written on his cup.

🧜‍♂️ Rafayel

The drive is calm. For once, Rafayel isn’t dramatically complaining about how boring the scenery is, nor is he blasting music at full volume just to mess with you. Instead, he’s relaxed, one hand draped over the wheel, sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, humming lazily to himself.

You hand him his coffee.

“Mm, thanks, cutie,” he purrs, taking it without looking, already lifting it to his lips—

Sip.

Pause.

His fingers tighten slightly.

Then—

The car swerves.

"RAFAYEL!"

With zero hesitation, he veers off the road and slams the brakes, the car jerking to a sudden, dramatic stop.

"WHAT THE HELL—" you start, gripping the dashboard.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!"

Rafayel is staring at the cup like it just personally betrayed him. His eyes are huge, his fingers clamped so tightly around the cup that you’re genuinely worried it might crack.

He snatches off his sunglasses, turns to you, and—says nothing.

Just breathes heavily.

Like he’s witnessed something cosmic.

You raise an eyebrow. "Something wrong, babe?"

He flips the cup toward you, jabbing at the words printed on the side.

Best Dad Ever.

"Is this a joke?" His voice cracks. “IS THIS A JOKE?!”

You bite back a laugh. "Nope."

His entire body freezes. His brain disconnects from reality.

Then—

He LAUNCHES himself out of the car.

“RAFAYEL, OH MY GOD—”

He starts pacing.

Wildly.

Hand in his hair, fully spiraling.

"I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN!" He throws his arms in the air. "MY GENES ARE TOO POWERFUL—THIS WAS INEVITABLE—"

You lean out the window, exasperated. "Can you—"

"I CAN’T BREATHE—"

"Then inhale through your nose, genius."

"I AM. IT'S NOT ENOUGH."

He stops abruptly. Whips back toward you. Marches over to the car like a man with a mission, plants his hands on the doorframe, and leans in—

"You’re serious?" His voice is deadly quiet now.

You hold his gaze. “I’m serious.”

For a second, he just stares at you.

Then, suddenly—

He laughs.

At first, just a short breath. Then—full giddy, unfiltered joy. He grabs your face, kisses you sloppy and hard, and laughs against your lips like he can’t believe it.

"I KNEW IT!" He pulls back just to yell into the sky. "I AM ABOUT TO CREATE THE MOST GORGEOUS CREATURE IN EXISTENCE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? THIS IS HISTORIC. THIS CHILD WILL BE A CULTURAL ICON—"

You groan. "Rafayel—"

“I HAVE TO DOCUMENT THIS MOMENT.”

"—No."

He’s already reaching for his phone.

"—RAFAYEL, NO—"

"WE NEED A PORTRAIT. A MONUMENT. A SERIES OF LIMITED-EDITION ART PRINTS."

You physically reach over and grab his wrist. "GET BACK IN THE DAMN CAR."

He gasps.

Dramatically.

Hand-on-heart levels of betrayal.

"You wouldn’t deprive me of this joy?"

"I will deprive you of seeing your child if you don’t start driving."

Instantly—he’s back in the car.

Straightens his jacket. Adjusts his hair. Puts on his sunglasses.

"Holy sharks," he breathes, gripping the wheel. "I'm gonna be a dad."

You sigh, finally relaxing. "Yeah, babe. You are."

He exhales slowly.

Then, softer this time, he reaches out, brushing his fingers over your stomach—reverent now.

"You just made me the happiest being alive," he murmurs. His smirk is still there, but his voice is completely serious.

You smile, resting your hand over his. “I know.”

The moment lingers—soft, intimate, perfect.

And then—

A wicked glint flashes in his eyes.

“Ohhh,” he grins, leaning back lazily. “This kid is gonna be a menace.”

You groan. "Rafayel—"

"THEY WILL BE CHAOS INCARNATE."

"Stop—"

"WE HAVE A DYNASTY TO BUILD."

And just like that—your entire future flashes before your eyes.

🖤🐦Sylus

It’s been a quiet drive, Sylus tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, humming along to the music. He’s in a good mood. Relaxed. Smug, as usual, but easygoing.

You hand him his coffee.

He takes it, sips, lets out a pleased little hum—

And then—

The car jerks.

You barely have time to register what happened before he slams on the brakes, throwing an arm across your waist to stop you from lurching forward.

“SYLUS—”

"EXCUSE ME?!"

The wheels screech to a stop on the side of the road. A cloud of dust kicks up behind the car, but Sylus doesn’t even look at it. No—his full, undivided attention is now locked onto the cup in his hand.

He turns it slowly, his crimson eyes glowing as he reads the words again. And again.

Best. Dad. Ever.

He blinks.

Then he grins.

Not just a smirk—a full, wicked, teeth-flashing, Sylus-style grin that immediately puts you on high alert.

“Kitten,” he purrs, tilting his head, voice dangerously low. “Is this what I think it is?”

You cross your arms. “If you think it means I’m pregnant, then yes.”

He lets out a low whistle, tapping the cup against the steering wheel like he cannot believe his luck.

“Oh-ho-ho,” he laughs, running a hand through his silver hair. “Oh, kitten.”

“…Why do you sound like you won something?” you ask, already regretting everything.

He takes another slow sip of coffee, relishing it, before placing the cup deliberately in the holder. Then he turns to you.

And just—stares.

His eyes gleam. His smirk deepens. And then—

“You belong to me now,” he murmurs, voice soaked in satisfaction.

Oh. Oh no.

“Don’t—”

“You were already mine,” he continues, ignoring your protest, fingers tracing slow circles on your knee. “But this? This makes it official.”

You squint. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, leaning in until his nose barely brushes yours. “You are so trapped.”

Your breath catches.

His lips brush your jaw. Soft. Slow. Dangerous.

“Our baby,” he murmurs against your skin. “My legacy.”

Okay, that makes you snort. “Legacy? Are you serious—”

His fingers tighten on your thigh.

“I never joke about ownership, kitten.”

Your stomach flips. “Sylus, I swear—”

“I am,” he continues, voice so dangerously pleased, “about to be the most unbearable man alive.”

“You already are.”

He chuckles, dark and smooth.

Then, with zero warning, he pulls your seat lever—fully reclines it—and cages you in with both arms.

“SYLUS—”

“You think I’m letting you out of this car without celebrating properly?” His knee presses between yours. His lips hover just over yours. “Oh, kitten.”

A smug, deadly whisper—

“You’re not going anywhere.”

And just like that—you are so. Completely. Screwed.

���️ Zayne

The drive is quiet, smooth, the hum of the engine steady. Zayne is driving like he does everything else—efficiently, precisely, with absolute control. One hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift, his posture effortlessly composed.

You hand him his coffee.

He takes it automatically, barely looking away from the road as he lifts it to his lips.

Then—

The cup stops midair.

His fingers tighten.

His eyes flick down.

The muscles in his jaw shift.

You can see the exact second his mind starts processing.

His lips part slightly. His brows furrow just a fraction.

His eyes scan the words again, like data he needs to verify.

Best Dad Ever.

And just like that—Zayne enters full diagnostic mode.

His pupils dilate. His breathing adjusts. His shoulders tense in micro-movements.

Then, before you can speak, he mutters—

“Seven weeks.”

You blink. “What?”

He doesn’t answer. He’s already calculating. His eyes flick to the dashboard clock—counting back the exact number of days since your last cycle.

“No, wait,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, “six weeks, five days. That lines up better with—”

He cuts himself off, his grip on the wheel adjusting, his mind racing a mile a second.

Then he grabs his phone with one hand and immediately dials a number.

You stare at him. “Zayne, what are you—”

“It’s Doctor Zayne, I need a full prenatal assessment scheduled immediately.”

“What?!”

He ignores you, listening intently. His tone is calm, clipped, entirely professional, as if he’s in the middle of a patient consultation.

“Yes, priority level one.” His fingers tap against the wheel. “Standard screenings plus full genetic panel. I also want a full cardiovascular assessment given her recent—”

“ZAYNE.”

His jaw tightens. He barely spares you a glance, still listening to whoever’s on the other end.

“No, reschedule that for tomorrow, I’ll be overseeing this personally—”

You reach over and end the call.

Silence.

Zayne blinks once, slowly, as if rebooting.

Then he turns his head very carefully toward you.

“…Did you just—”

“Yes.”

His eyelid twitches.

“You,” he says, deadpan, “just ended an emergency medical consultation with one of the most sought-after specialists in the Linkon-city.”

“Yes.”

His lips press together tightly. His nostrils flare just a fraction.

Then—the cracks start showing.

His throat bobs. His fingers flex around the wheel. His chest rises with a sharp inhale—

And then, finally, he breaks.

His entire body sags forward as he presses his forehead to the steering wheel, exhaling shakily.

“…Oh, fuck,” he mutters, voice completely wrecked.

You blink.

He takes another sharp breath, his hands gripping the wheel like he’s stabilizing himself.

“…I was fine,” he says, more to himself than to you.

You stare at him. “No, you weren’t.”

“I was,” he insists, head still against the wheel. “I had a plan. I was handling it.”

You tilt your head. “Handling it like a patient case?”

His fingers flex again. “It’s not the same.”

“Zayne.”

He doesn’t move.

“Zay.”

Nothing.

So you reach out, fingers slipping into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp—

He lets out a breath that absolutely shatters you.

Like something inside him has finally collapsed.

Then—without warning—he turns and kisses you.

It’s not like before. Not calculated, not measured, not careful.

It’s desperate.

Like he needs to feel you, needs to know you’re here, with him, real.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head.

“I can’t…” He exhales slowly. “I can’t lose control of this.”

Your chest tightens. “You don’t have to control everything, Zayne.”

His hand slips down, pressing gently against your stomach. His fingers splay, warm and reverent.

“…You’re right.” His voice is quieter now.

Another pause.

Then—

A tiny, breathless laugh escapes him.

You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

His eyes flick to yours, golden-green and impossibly soft.

“…I’m going to be a dad.”

You smile. “Yeah, you are.”

Another shaky exhale. Then, a full-blown smile—rare, genuine, warm.

“…Shit.” He laughs again, shaking his head. “I should’ve seen this coming.”

You grin. “Should I be concerned that you can predict organ failure before it happens, but not this?”

His hand tightens just slightly over your stomach. His smirk is smaller now, more sincere.

“No,” he murmurs. “Because this—”

He leans in, lips brushing just over your temple.

“This is the best surprise I’ve ever had.”

🍎 Caleb

It’s a perfect drive—at least, for now. The sun is low, stretching golden light across the road, and Caleb is relaxed, one hand on the wheel, the other lazily resting on the armrest. He’s humming to himself, terribly off-key, completely endearing, and utterly oblivious to the bomb you’re about to drop on him.

You hand him his coffee.

“Thanks, pip-squeak,” he murmurs, taking it automatically, his eyes still on the road.

He takes a sip.

Then—

He stops.

His hand tightens around the cup.

His posture locks up.

And just like that, you realize you’ve made a terrible mistake.

The car swerves.

“CALEB!”

With military precision, he pulls over so hard the tires skid, shifts into park, and slams the brakes.

He doesn’t move.

He doesn’t breathe.

You barely have time to process before he whirls toward you, holding up the cup like it’s an explosive device.

“WHAT. IS. THIS?!”

You blink. “Uh. Coffee?”

His eye twitches. His chest rises in one sharp inhale.

Then—his voice drops to a whisper.

“…Are you messing with me right now?”

Your lips twitch. “Nope.”

Silence.

Pure, deafening silence.

Then—

His entire soul leaves his body.

He throws the door open, jumps out of the car, and immediately crouches down with his hands on his knees.

You watch in real time as a fully grown man has a complete emotional crisis on the side of the road.

"OH FUCK. OH FUCK. OH FUCK."

“CALEB, GET BACK IN THE CAR.”

"I NEED A SECOND."

“You’re going to get hit by—”

"I NEED A FUCKING SECOND."

You drop your head into your hands as he rakes his fingers through his hair, muttering to himself like he’s trying to process the meaning of life.

Then—abruptly—he stops.

Stands up straight. Spins to face you.

“…How long?”

You hesitate. “Caleb—”

“HOW LONG?!”

You sigh. “A few weeks.”

His jaw clenches. His eyes dart down, scanning you, like he’s only just now realizing that oh shit, you’re actually pregnant.

Then—he yanks open the car door, sits back down, and buckles his seatbelt like it personally wronged him.

You blink. “…Are you okay?”

“No,” he admits immediately.

He exhales sharply, presses his hands to his face, and just—

Whimpers.

Not dramatically. Not in distress. Just the most overwhelmed, overjoyed, short-circuited noise you’ve ever heard come out of him.

Then, suddenly—he laughs.

Not just any laugh—a helpless, breathless, disbelieving laugh.

“Oh, fuck.” He drags a hand down his face, his grin growing. “Oh, fuck. We’re having a baby.”

You grin back. “Yeah, we are.”

He turns to you, and something changes.

The panic is still there—but beneath it? Something warm. Something so impossibly, devastatingly soft.

Then—he moves.

His hand presses to your stomach.

Just rests there.

Like he’s afraid to push too hard, afraid to shatter this moment.

His throat bobs. His fingers spread slightly.

And then, his voice—softer than you’ve ever heard it—

“…That’s our baby.”

You nod.

His eyes flicker. His entire body tenses.

Then, without warning—

You are no longer sitting.

You yelp as he hauls you into his lap, wrapping both arms around you and crushing you against his chest.

“CALEB—”

“NOPE.” His voice is muffled into your shoulder. “I NEED THIS. GIVE ME THIS. RIGHT NOW.”

You laugh. “You’re squishing me—”

"YOU’RE PREGNANT WITH MY BABY AND I HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS EMOTIONALLY, THANK YOU."

You let him have it.

For a long moment, he just holds you. His breath is shaky, his grip tight, like he’s trying to memorize every second of this before it slips away.

Then—he shifts slightly.

A deep breath. A pause.

Then, suddenly—

His grip tightens, and he leans back just enough to look at you dead in the eyes.

“…Okay but—what about me?”

You blink. “What?”

His ears start going red.

“I mean,” he clears his throat, gaze darting anywhere but your face now, “what about… you know.”

You smirk. “I don’t know. Clarify.”

He groans, tilting his head back against the seat. “Pip-squeak, come on.”

You hum, trailing your fingers over his shoulders, down his chest. “Ohh. You mean—”

"YES." His grip tightens on your hips. "What happens now? Do I just—" He gestures vaguely between you. "Forget about it? Nine months of nothing?"

You shrug innocently. “Well. There are other ways…”

He freezes.

His eyes darken. His jaw clenches. His fingers twitch.

“…Other ways.”

You nod. “Mhm.”

He stares. Processing.

Then, suddenly—

He grabs the steering wheel with both hands, stares straight ahead, and shifts into drive.

“Okay.”

You snort. “That’s it?”

“I have to drive us home. Immediately.” His voice is far too serious. “This is now a time-sensitive situation.”

You laugh. “Caleb, you are so—”

He shoots you a warning look, eyes still burning. “Do not finish that sentence unless you want me to pull over again.”

You grin wickedly. “And then what?”

His grip tightens on the wheel.

Then, low and dark—

“…Don’t test me, pip-squeak.”

And just like that—

You have created a monster.

☀️ Xavier

The drive is smooth, effortless. Xavier handles the car the way he handles everything else—calmly, efficiently, like he’s already three steps ahead of reality. The road stretches endlessly ahead, the soft hum of the engine filling the silence between you.

You hand him his coffee.

“Thank you, love,” he murmurs, taking it without looking, perfectly composed, as always.

He lifts it to his lips, takes a sip—

Then stops.

His fingers tighten slightly around the cup.

You watch as his eyes flick down to the message.

Best Dad Ever.

For a moment, he doesn’t react. Doesn’t tense, doesn’t flinch. Just…observes.

Then, with deliberate ease, he tilts his head slightly in your direction.

“…Very funny.”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

He gestures toward the cup, lips twitching in amusement. “You can’t fool me, princess. I know you too well.”

He takes another slow sip, entirely unbothered.

“This is a joke,” he continues, matter-of-factly. “You wanted to see if I’d panic. Clever, but predictable.”

You hum thoughtfully. “Oh, yeah? What makes you so sure?”

His smirk grows. “Because if it were real, you’d be significantly worse at hiding your anticipation.”

You tilt your head. “Mm. Maybe.”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he shifts his focus back to the road. “You’ll have to do better than this next time.”

You shrug, lifting your own coffee to your lips.

He barely glances at it.

Then—he does a double take.

His brows furrow. His body stiffens slightly.

You see it—the moment the wheels in his head start turning. The moment his brain connects the dots.

Best Mom Ever.

Of twins.

There is a pause. A deep, soul-crushing pause.

Then, slowly, very slowly, he takes one more sip of coffee.

And immediately chokes on it.

He coughs once, hard, sharp. His grip on the wheel tightens so fast his knuckles go white.

And then—he does the single most terrifying thing he has ever done in his entire existence.

He slowly eases his foot off the gas pedal.

Not jerking the car. Not slamming the brakes. Just gradually reducing speed with surgical precision.

His eyes are locked straight ahead, unblinking.

The car glides toward the shoulder of the road in complete, deafening silence.

Then, in eerie, methodical movements,

He puts the car in park.

Takes off his seatbelt.

Reaches over.

And plucks your coffee out of your hands.

You blink. “Xavier?”

He says nothing.

Instead, he places both cups onto the dashboard.

Adjusts them. Lines them up perfectly so that the words are directly facing him.

Then—

He stares.

At the cups.

At the words.

At his entire future.

Silence.

Then, very quietly—

“…Twins.”

His throat bobs.

His hand comes up and presses against his temple.

Another beat of pure silence.

Then—

He laughs.

A single breathless, helpless laugh.

Then another.

And another.

Until suddenly—

He dissolves into a full-blown existential breakdown.

His entire body tips forward, forehead pressing against the steering wheel.

“Twins.” His voice is muffled, bordering on delirious. “I—twins. Two. There are two.”

You bite your lip. “There will be, yeah.”

He lets out a sound that is neither human nor machine.

Then, slowly—he lifts his head again.

His eyes are unfocused, like he’s calculating probabilities of survival in real-time.

Then—

His head turns toward you.

And you swear you see actual panic.

“How,” he exhales, voice quiet, shaky, “do we own two of something when we never needed to own one?”

You blink. “Xav, what—?”

He gestures vaguely at the cups.

“How do we prepare for twins if we were never prepared for a singular baby?”

You open your mouth—

"WE DON'T EVEN HAVE TWO OF THE SAME PILLOW."

You freeze. “What.”

He gestures more aggressively now, looking absolutely unhinged.

“OUR BED.” He waves toward the back seat. “THE PILLOWS. THEY’RE DIFFERENT. HOW DID WE GET TWO DIFFERENT PILLOWS? HOW DID I LET THIS HAPPEN?”

You stare at him.

“You’re spiraling.”

“I AM LOGICALLY PROCESSING THE GRAVITY OF OUR SITUATION.”

“Xavier.”

He inhales. Exhales.

Then, softer now, more real, more raw—

“…We’re going to have twins.”

You nod.

His shoulders drop. His eyes soften.

Then—before you can react, he reaches out, pulls you into his lap, and buries his face into your neck.

For a long moment, he just holds you.

No overthinking. No calculations.

Just you.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low, warm, unshaken.

“…I am never going to recover from this information.”

You laugh softly. “You will.”

He leans back just enough to meet your eyes. And finally—finally—his lips curve into a small, exhausted smile.

“…They’re going to be terrifyingly intelligent.”

You snicker. “Oh, for sure.”

“And devastatingly attractive.”

“Obviously.”

He hums. “I will be insufferable.”

“You already are.”

His arms tighten around you, his lips brushing your forehead.

“…I’m going to be a father of twins.”

“You are.”

“…That’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

You grin. “You’ll be fine.”

Another pause.

Then—

A mischievous glint sparks in his eyes.

“…Twins, you said?”

You narrow your eyes. “Yes?”

His smirk returns, sharper this time.

“So.” He tilts his head. “Shall we test for a third?”

You shove him so hard the car rocks slightly. ****** More stories here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleksa_Tia

[midzurugi]

if you're not voting for them idk what to tell you

[vettedfundraisergaza]

If they’re lucky enough to have a tent and not be sleeping on the streets, people in Gaza look out and see nothing but endless sand, the ruins of buildings, barefoot children, and hungry families with no food. The constant buzzing of surveillance drones fills the air.

No roof. No walls. Nothing to shield them from the rain pouring down these days. No warm clothes to fight off the cold.

Don’t forget Gaza just because the bombs have stopped. A ceasefire doesn’t mean their struggles are over. They still need us.

Islam’s home is gone. He has nowhere to go. Their tent is falling apart under the wind and rain in Khan Younis.

@transmutationisms @moayesh @el-shab-hussein @irhabiya

@cantsayidont @khanger @mindchalice @lesbianmaxevans @90-ghost @nabulsi @el-shab-hussein @irhabiya @mohameddd @sar-soor @appsa @wellwaterhysteria @nabulsi @el-shab-hussein @irhabiya @sar-soor @appsa @fancysmudges @just-browsings-world @mothblogging @aleciosun @serica @fluoresensitivearchived @katherineonlyoneperson-blog @khizuo @lesbianavocado @transmutationist @schoolhater98 @timogsilangan @appsappsapps @buttercuparry @sayruq @malcriada @palestinegenocide @sar-sora @akajustmerry @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @feluka @tortiefrancis @flower-tea-fairies @tsaricides @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @visenyasdragon @belleandsaintsebastian @ear-motif @kordeliiius @brutaliakent @raelyn-dreams @troythecatfish @theropoda @tamarrrra @4ft10tvlandfangirl @queerstudiesnatural @northgazaupdates2 @skatezophrenic @awetistic-things @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @nabulsi27 @gaza-evacuation-funds @irhabiya

[anatinagender]

Gendercanevas (Boycanevas, Girlcanevas, and Enbycanevas respectively) 🌼🌼-🌞🌞-🌼🌼-🌞🌞-🌼🌼

1. Gendercanevas - a gender that is directly connected to one's own experiences, and is therefore intensely customized and unique, like an art piece on a canvas. It can also describe a gender that results from the process of one's self-discovery and how processes such as that can affect their gender identity Derivation and pronunciation: Derived from French, “canevas” meaning “canvas, tapestry” Pronunciation: /kan.va/ (can-va)

[hyruleisforever99]

Zelda stands in front of the goddess statue her thin fingers strum the strings of the harp before singing she takes a breath before starting to sing the Ballad Of the Goddess.. " Eh Nashaobu No the shudu dei shudu Queraro salei."

Ohh youth, guided by the servant of the goddess...

Unite earth and sky...

Bring light to the land...."

It's such a beautiful day, above the goddess statue her blue loftwing is soaring around as well as is Link's vibrantly crimson loftwing. Link walks into the sacred place and then stops listening to Zelda singing it's a pretty song her voice is so calming she is his friend and absolutely loves to hear singing he is a curious little boy and wonders what could be possibly meant by servant of the goddess?

[hyruleisforever99]

" I am ready." Zelda says softly. She's been deeply homesick ever since this quest begun every moment she's tried so hard to remain focused upon the task in front of her which was her own destiny but her heart longs to be soaring in the sky once again missing Link and wanting to be by his side once again. She's still a little bit half waking up from unconsciousness. She looks to Groose and offers him a look that says ' i will be okay.' which is all he could ask for considering that he did save her from certain death. Then she looks back to Link. The sound of the tiny birds chirping reaches Zelda's ears, what a wonderful world this is it's so much more then she's ever known initially based off of the stories she's been told.

@hyruleisforever99: [ for Sky Link] They did it!, the battle is one and Demise is defeated. Zelda is unconscious in Groose's arms then slowly wakes and slowly blinks the first thing she sees is him Link, a soft smile spreads across her face she knew he could do it he has saved them all. " Good morning.... again Link. " one thing is for sure, she is beyond ready to go home to Skyloft and see her father once again.

Link hadn't removed himself from Zelda's side after Demise had finally fallen. No matter how tired he felt. He worried for her. However, he was happy she was safe and when those eyes opened as he walked beside Groose, he smiled back at her with a bit of affection.

"Good morning, princess." He said with a bit of joy in his tone. "Ready to go home? I'm sure Akash would love to see you." He hoped the flight home wouldn't be too much of a trip for her. If it was, he would take her home himself. "Or do Brigid and I need to give you a lift?" He teased her here just a little.

[jttlpgroup]

Sky 🌼 9846   http://www.steveb29.com/2024/07/5360-sky.html

[stardustamaryllis78]

Hey, do you guys remember when these two were actually compelling characters?

Yeah, neither do I.

Bait is by far the most interesting character of these three and I'm not even joking.

But lets start at the beginning shall we?

Let's start off with Callum, the protagonist.

He is the son of Queen Sarai and step son of King Harrow 🐦 and the big brother of Prince or King Ezran, depends on which part of the show you're on. I guess spoiler if you haven't got past episode 3 where Pip dies and Harrow is forced to eat bird food for the rest of his life. (I have MASSIVE feelings about that "plot twist" but that's a potential post for another day.)

He struggles with the idea of being a prince because he believes he's not good at horse riding and sword fighting, things a prince should be good at.

Ignore the horse, Bait is the one clearly in charge, Callum doesn't know what he's doing.

All (kind of) jokes aside, he was dorky without being too annoying and him getting the Sky Primal Stone which in turn allowed him to use Sky magic which made him feel like he was for once good at something was interesting to watch, especially after he had to smash it to hatch a dying Zym and learn the Sky Arcanum through other means. A good well rounded character.

Then we have Rayla, who used to be one of my favourite characters.

Not anymore.

She was originally so snarky, sassy and feisty but in such a fascinating kind of way. She also had a kind and gentle heart and would do anything to help those in need. Plus, she had the inner struggle of being an assassin who cannot kill but that didn't really matter because she used her skills for the greater good anyway.

Its a shame her first and only kill in the show came in the form of herself.

Character assassination at its finest.

How did Rayla go from this:

To this:

Best Dragonguard of the century guys 👏

From a girl who would do anything to help others in need, even a dragon that would torch tons of innocent people to legit turning her back on a dragon in distress. This is not Rayla.

But how did it come to this you may ask? Well curious Tumblr reader, I have one simple answer. One simple answer that will burn so much of The Dragon Prince's fandom down and will cause an all out riot but let me just tell you, I'm speaking nothing but the truth.

The answer is:

Rayllum

Yep! Them becoming a duo literally murdered their characters and I still o7 them to this day 🫡

What was once two interesting characters who found solace in each other and set off together (and Ezran was there as the third wheel) to stop a war spanning centuries became a poorly written soap opera.

So where did it go wrong?

I'm gonna sound like a broken record in saying SEASON 4 📢 HAHA!

But no, not season 4, it was actually before that.

It starts with Rayla leaving Callum the nicest birthday present anyone could give someone - ghosting them.

Now you'd think that Rayla would at least wait a day or two after Callum's birthday so he can have an enjoyable day first but nope! She decides to dip on whats supposed to be a happy day for him and make it miserable. What a woman! 👏

Now you could be saying to me, "But she needed to go with full urgency!" To which, no she did not. She went because it was a mission of revenge, something she LITERALLY said herself so she could have waited a few days but she chose instead to make someone she's supposed to love miserable on a day of happiness.

But okay, she dips and leaves Callum sad and miserable on his birthday. Surely when she returns, she apologizes right?

...Right?

I don't think arc 2 Rayla would understand the word sorry if it bit her right up where the Moon don't shine.

Anyways, its two years later (Yes, you heard me, two years) and Rayla decides to finally unghost Callum.

Now, Callum is understandably upset with Rayla after taking off on his birthday and leaving without saying goodbye. So whats Rayla's stance on this? Is she understanding?

Of course not, this is arc 2 Rayla we're talking about.

Imagine letting the guy she let down have some room to sort things out in his head. Crazy right?

But anyway, he eventually relents to Rayla because she won't shut up in typical Rayla fashion and they both snooze on the couch.

This kind of soap opera drama goes on for THE ENTIRE SEASON while they just gradually "make up" and its just such contrived conflict. Especially as nothing came of Rayla leaving for those two years and it happened off screen.

Plus, her not taking accountability for her actions is a big deal.

Sadly the writers did it with this ship. ^

I love Red Herring story lines that are spent so much time on and are SUPER built up only to have literally no impact on the plot whatsoever. 🤗

Loved wasting my time on the Dark Magic Callum story line.

BUT HEY, he did get some great looking tooth-paste in his hair! 🪥 Looks great on you Callum. 🤥

Now however, I must talk about the most beloved of all seasons and no, I don't mean season 6 or 3.

Clearly I'm referring to season 7, aka, facing sucking the season.

Like seriously, if I ate a Moonberry Surprise every time Callum and Rayla snogged, I'd end up needing medical attention.

That's not the offender I'm talking about though. It's Rayla's super selfishness and Callum choosing her over his grieving brother.

Somehow, the writer's thought that was okay.

Remember, this is the same girl who left him for 2 whole years to put her need of revenge before his feelings.

Callum betrayed his brother for her.

But it's not even just that, it's just the selfish nature of Rayla in season 7. Ezran has just had Katolis burnt to a crisp, and all she can think about is herself and her own needs. Ezran's feelings? They don't matter. As long as she's happy, that's fine.

I don't even want to talk about them all buddying up in the Silvergrove happily while Ezran is still dealing with Katolis' fallout.

Plus remember, at this point, Callum still believes that Runaan killed Harrow. I get forgiving someone but bro is literally choosing the guy who assassinated the guy who raised him over his grieving brother. It's actual insanity to me.

There is much more I have missed but I have reached my Rayllum limit for the day. This ship is as fun as watching paint dry so I want to do something that is going to actually bring me joy.

Have a good day everyone! Peace! 🫡

[thinkingsmart]

Sky 🌼 19972 Chuck sat there trying to figure out how it all went so wrong. 💫🤎   https://ift.tt/JbpGK2n

[hyruleisforever99]

One minute Zelda is flying around skyloft with Link on their loftwings he just won the race and is now one step closer to achieving full knighthood it's such a beautiful day then a black tornado come out nowhere knocking her off their Loftwing and down to here. At first she's falling downward falling downward quickly from the sky then falls through the clouds and as she does her descend slows and Zelda is wrapped in golden light that to anybody down here it would look like a goddess were coming down from the heavens. Thank Hylia somebody caught her already Zelda can feel just how the heat of this place and just how unforgiving it is. Gentle blue eyes look into Ganondorf's. Is she okay? in truth for the moment she's not but more in a state of shock. " W---- what is this place?" could this really be the surface?, the world below the clouds but how is possible because legends say there's nothing below the clouds.

Well, this is certainly not how he thought of spending a simple walk amidst the ever-stretching sands. Then again, Teyvat held no shortage of strange happenings so this wasn't all too startling of a view.

Amber hues squint, at some descending ray of light, only to get a glimpse of some other colors and someone's face.

Reacting quickly, Ganon has his arms out to catch the person, using his feets to brace himself and cushion the impact. It might be sand but it doesn't mean nothing would hurt in an unforgiving landscape like Sumeru's desert.

Once he manage to catch this, woman from closer inspection, does he avoid from putting her down just yet.

''Hey, are you alright there lady?'', not just anyone comes crashing from the sky after all.

@hyruleisforever99