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#so so so so so sweet and precious
gracieheartspedro · 4 months
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I love the miller brothers 😩🤧
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dasketcherz · 9 months
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it was a pretty cool dlc, i enjoyed it a lot
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heartfulselkie · 9 months
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He is HER Buggaboy!
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hyunpic · 2 months
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DAILY HYUNJIN GIFS UNTIL HIS BDAY: love you and all your little things - how much you adore skz
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xenocorner · 1 year
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Supreme family? I don't know her, all I know is Team Well, Shit.
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frnkiebby · 3 months
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two pixel sewer rats for you guys~🎃
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beforeimdeceased · 5 months
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abby wearing her strap on asking you to ride the bulge and beg her to fuck you and she’s not gonna do it until you sound as desperate as she wants you to…i need a glass of water
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loevhyuck · 10 months
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graves-doodles · 3 months
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So all of these guys I got are just a bunch of LOZ "what if" AU's and Plants is: What if Link was the forest sage?
So he's the forest sage. Always lived in the forest and doesn't have a destiny telling him to leave. So he doesn't leave. He doesn't really like pondering about the outside world, and the thought of other people seeing him makes him real nervous. What's that? How would he know of the outside world if he stays in the forest anyways??
But ah! In canon even the Great Deku Tree knows about hyrule proper, and same here where Link of course knows about the outside kingdom. He even knows about the Princess and her best friend the Gerudo prince, Ganondorf.
In fact, the both of them would visit him ever since they were all kids. Many times they'd come to the forest to spend time with their little forest friend. Zelda, ever the artist, wanted to have a way where they can stay with him longer and came up with the idea of painted flower pots that hold domestic plants for him.
All over the inside of the forest temple and even outside there are tons of flower pots they've pained together. He loves all of them and takes care of all his new plant friends.
The goodbyes are bittersweet knowing they'll visit again, but always knowing Link is alone whenever they're not there. One day they hope Link can join them outside the forest. Maybe on a road trip around the country and share their world with him for once.
But for now he seems very set on staying in the forest and reassures them he's fine and can't wait for them to visit again.
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2aceofspades · 6 months
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Fear
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You're afraid
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Beginning | Previous | Next
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kyo-mei · 10 months
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Dynamic pose and lighting practice w/ Link
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yunamiudon · 11 months
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The crystal 💎✨🌟💫
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(I can't believe it's been almost 3 years since I painted this! ↓)
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canisalbus · 4 months
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Just wanted to tell you that your recent art of Machete looking after Vasco while he's sick reminded me of Nights at the Villa by Gogol. Only a small fragment of it survived, probably because it's straight up author's diary about falling in love for the first time with a man who is already dying. It's such a beautiful little piece and your art really reminded me of it's vibes. Anyway, I'm mentally ill about russian literature and I love your dogs <3
The longing and lamenting quite something, poor guy.
It's not very long so I'm just going to put the whole thing under the cut ->
They were sweet and tormenting, those sleepless nights. He sat, ill, in the armchair. I was with him. Sleep dared not touch my eyes. Silently and involuntarily, it seems, it respected the sanctity of my vigil. Its was so sweet to sit near him, to look at him. For two nights already we have been saying "thou" to each other. How much closer he has become to me since then! He sat there just as before, meek, quiet, and resigned. Good God! With what joy, with what happiness I would have taken his illness upon myself! And if my death could restore him to health, with what readiness I would have rushed toward it!
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I did not stay with him last night. I had finally decided to stay home and sleep. Oh, how base, how vile that night and my despicable sleep were! I slept poorly, even though I had been without sleep for almost a week. I was tormented by the thought of him. I kept imagining him, imploring and reproachful. I saw him with the eyes of my soul. I hastened to come early to him and felt like a criminal as I went. From his bed he saw me. He smiled with his usual angel's smile. He offered his hand. He pressed mine lovingly.
"Traitor." he said, "You betrayed me." "My angel," I said, "Forgive me. I myself suffered with your suffering. I was in torment all night. My rest brought me no repose. Forgive me!" My meek one! He pressed my hand. How fully rewarded I was for the suffering that the stupidly spent night had brought me!
"My head is weary," he said. I began to fan him with a laurel branch. "Ah, how fresh and good," he said. His words were then… what were they? What would I have not given, what earthly goods, those despicable, those vile, those disgusting goods… no, they are not worth mentioning. You into whose hands will fall -if they will fall- those incoherent, fleebe lines, pallid expressions of my emotions, you will understand me. Otherwise they will not fall into your hands. You will understand how repulsive the entire heap of treasures and honors is that attracts those wooden dolls which are called people. Oh, with what joy, with what anger I could have trampled underfoot and squashed everything that is bestowed by the mighty scepter of the Tsar of the North, if I only knew that this would buy a smile that indicated the slightest relief in his face.
"Why did you prepare such a bad month of May for me?" He said to me, awakening in his armchair and hearing the wind beyond the window-panes that wafted the aroma of the blossoming wild jasmine and white acacia, which mingled with the whirling rose petals.
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At ten o'clock I went down to see him. I had left him there hours before to get some rest, to prepare [something] to him, to afford him some variety, so my arrival would give him more pleasure. I went down to him at ten o'clock. He had been alone for more than one hour. His visitors had long since left. The dejection of boredom showed on his face. He saw me. Waved his hand slightly.
"My savior." He said to me. They still sound in my ears, those words. "My angel! Did you miss me?" "Oh, how I missed you." He replied. I kissed him on the shoulder. He offered his cheek. We kissed; he was still pressing my hand.
He did not like going to bed and hardly ever did. He preferred his armchair and the sitting position. That night the doctor ordered him to rest. He stood up reluctantly and, leaning on my shoulder, moved to his bed. My darling! He weary glance, his brightly colored jacket, his slow steps- I can see it all, it is all before my eyes. He whispered in my ear, leaning on my shoulder and glancing at the bed: "Now I'm a ruined man."
"We will remain in bed for only half an hour," I said to him, "and then we'll go back to your armchair".
I watched you, my precious, tender flower! All the time when you were sleeping or merely dozing in you bed or armchair, I followed your movements and your moments, bound to you by some incomprehensible force.
How strangely new my life was then and, at the same time, I discerned in it a repetition of something distant, something that once actually was. But it seems hard to give an idea of it: there returned to me a fresh, fleeting fragment of my youth, that time when a youthful soul seeks fraternal friendship with those of one's age, a decidedly juvenile friendship, full of sweet, almost infantile trifles and mutual show of tokens of tender attachment; the time when it is sweet to gaze into each other's eyes, when your entire being is ready to offer sacrifices, which are usually not even necessary. And all those feelings, sweet, youthful, fresh - alas! Inhabitants of a vanishing world - all these feelings returned to me. Good Lord! What for? I watched you, my precious, tender flower. Did this fresh breath of youth waft upon me only so that I might suddenly and irrevocably sink into even greater and more deadening coldness of feelings, so that I might become all at once older by a decade, so that I might see my vanishing life with even greater despair and hopelessness? Thus does a dying fire send its flames up into the air, so that it might illuminate with its flickering the somber walls and then disappear forever.
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disneynerdpumpkin · 5 months
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⭐~ Star ~⭐
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elysse-does-things · 4 months
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i think i have a type…
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littleoceanbabe · 4 months
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john getting sherlock ear defenders that are personalized, both with sherlock’s initials and john being quick to point out the pun it makes is something that can be so so important to me, actually. john is so unbelievably sweet, understanding, and accommodating it’s absolutely wonderful to see. i love this podcast ❤️❤️❤️❤️
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