Love It Tho - Tumblr Posts

I swear to god if this is based on that image I drew months ago................ 😭

Sin titulo xd...

Primer pendejada que subo en el año =D!!!

estoy decepcionado de mi mismo!!! (>w<)♡

creditos a la piba que dibuja a salad fingers siendo joto🎀

realizing i'm mainly posting about loving men and the green creek series

brb gotta buy a personality from my local grocery store or find one in the dumpster outside

Finding him feels like a Where's Wally page

Just discovered this blog so idk if it’s been done before but have we considered putting him in Chernobyl reactor 4?

he heard there was an elephant around here somewhere…?

Really thinking about how the through-line of my most favorite ships is devotion.

Just a quiet I’ll follow you anywhere and a somber pleased I know

song hits hard but lyric caught me off guard

It took me a moment to realize whaf it meant

Impa/Zelda- In a field of horror

**BLOOD AND LIGHT GORE TW**

Another splash of blood is thrown in front of the princess, a gasp coming from her, even if it was just monster blood. It didn’t come from her own efforts— rather, the efforts of her advisor fighting for both their lives in front of her, blood coating the Sheikah’s clothes and weapon. And, as Zelda examined closer, not just monster blood.

Impa’s teeth were gritted tightly together as a cut went across her cheek, slicing some of her hair with it, the red fire in her eyes all but glowing as she fought nonstop. Her bones were getting weary, muscles sore from how fast she moved, ears near dead to sound from the high pitched wailing that wouldn’t ever stop, as long as she kept fighting. Not that she minded the screeches so much, because it meant that another monster had fallen to her blade.

When the battle started, Impa had been full of energy, said energy saved from Link being the one that had been doing all the fighting, until he met his demise. The debacle had thrusted her into this position, not that she was going to complain. It was her job to protect Zelda (always had been) and she took it quite seriously, and would bring it with her to the grave if she had to. Not just as her advisor, but as her lover, too. She couldn’t stand the thought of leaving the woman she loved behind without her, but such morose thoughts had fled her mind in the scene of battle, her only thought being how to live or to die in this situation.

When the fighting stopped, at long last, both women on the field let out a long sigh of relief. Zelda hastily called out to her advisor, running over and examining her wounds. She gasped at the bruises and cuts, looking around for Mipha, who had been instructed to stay at the edge of the battlefield and prepare for the flood of troops that needed healing.

Zelda wrapped her arm around Impa’s shoulders, beginning to lead her to that edge where Mipha was located, green eyes burning with fire and determination as the Sheikah halfway limped beside her. The tent was in sight, nearly there, maybe a couple hundred yards away, and the princess smiled in relief. She took in a breath of air, but even that wasn’t quite right. Her lungs filled with that pungent and sticky smoke-like substance, causing her to cough, eyes locking on to the flecks of ash floating in the air around them.

“It cannot be…” She mumbled to herself, eyes fixed on the crimson grass, eyes slowly drifting up to the bloodied sky. The moon hung high, eerily glowing red, imposing on the field below as the monsters just slain came back to life, popping out of the ground and finding their weapons.

Impa let go of the princess, unsheathed her kodachi, and prepared for another round of fighting. Zelda just looked down at her hands, unable to comprehend or process that their battle had been replayed, as if it were a sick game, best 2 out of 3, though the callouses on the princess’s hands were nothing compared to Impa’s wounds.

”Impa, stand down. I can handle this.” She called after the woman, but she was already in the battle, and Zelda cursed quietly to herself in the fear that Impa couldn’t hear her anymore. She didn’t want her advisor to go so far away from her, slip out of her grasp, that she couldn’t hear or see her, left to the pitch black of heartbreak, the rain of grief falling on her face and deafening her to the outside world.

Impa heard, but did not listen, especially not whenever she saw the guardians. The thought of abandoning these soldiers, the champions, and even her princess was far too shameful, far too horrible to comprehend, such a thing would be far worse than death. Zelda needed her, and Impa had always been there whenever the princess needed her. She would not change that.

Zelda could only continue to shout this order, telling her to stand down, quickly becoming frustrated as Impa refused, and in turn became more and more exhausted and injured. Zelda could all but hear the crack of her bones as a moblin inflicted down on the woman with its club, and she winced, feeling the pain in her ribs like it was her own. But it wasn’t, and Impa was on the ground, and there was nothing she could do about it. All she could do was run towards her, hand glowing—

She shrieked in horror as her advisor and lover’s blood was cast on the bottom of her dress, the woman who had been standing falling to the ground. Zelda nearly dove forward, catching her fall, holding her tightly as she hastily examined her to see where the wound was. Tears poured as her vision fell onto a huge gash all the way across her abdomen, happily pouring out blood, the eyes of Zelda’s lover filling with space as she bled out there. Impa’s eyes were even a light blue, burnout blue.

Zelda looked up, to see the enemy that had done this to her, and was met with the vicious and cruel eyes of a moblin— several moblins, lizalfos, bokoblins, and maybe even a lynel or two on the other side of the field— and she knew she would not make it long, not now with Impa grasping on for life.

She turned to cry for help, someone had to hear, anyone had to hear, but Impa’s weak and shaking hand grasped hers. She coughed up horribly blue blood (as was bleeding a sort of purple blood, a nightmarish and not quite right combination of what had been red blood but was now blue) that signaled the Sheikah burnout. Oh, why had she hesitated to stop and run? Why had she insisted of fighting until she collapsed for the princess, such a weak princess, at that?

“Don’t cry, princess. It’s…” The blood trailing down her chin dripped onto the princess’s hand, where it rested on Impa’s chest, desperately grasping onto her dying pulse. She didn’t feel it drip down from there, too focused on her free hand coming to cup Impa’s cheek.

“Impa… Impa, please, you can’t… I order you to stay alive! Impa, if you die here, you’re in the dungeons forever!” The weeping princess declared, near hysterically, the words unregistered and therefore not even put together as if she had meant to say them. It was just a product of a heart being torn to pieces, promising she would do anything to keep Impa alive, if she could just…

She looked up as Impa lifted her hand up, trying to use her powers, but all that happened was more cuts on her hand opened up, quickly gushing out blood, causing her to cry out in pain. Zelda’s eyes met with those of a moblin, club raised, and all the air left her body. She wondered, was this the best outcome? If she does here, along with Impa, she wouldn’t be alone, trapped in a life without the other woman, whom she hadn’t spent a day without in years. She was dependent on her, as much as she wished she could be independent, as a princess ought not saddle others with her own burdens.

The thought didn’t pass through, however, and she was unable to choose what she wanted to do before her hand raised itself up, the triforce flashing proudly, a blinding force field blocking the attack. Said forcefield pushed on the moblin’s club, obliterating the horrid monster with the light, and pushing further still to disintegrate all the other enemies in the field with them.

The princess reeled in shock from what she’d done, eyes wide open, questioning herself before her attention was directed back towards the dying woman in her lap. Her eyes had gone pale and empty, devoid of the red that Zelda adored, and even the brown that Impa kept her eyes to for “proper reasons”. She shook her, felt her pulse, and more tears streamed down her face.

Where her hand rested, it began to glow, the wound on Impa’s abdomen partially healing up. Just long enough (and sufficiently enough) for her to live and get some actual help. All inside of the princess cried in joy, and he leaned down to kiss the woman softly, just a short breath between them escaping once it ended. The Sheikah’s eyes were still quite devoid of life, but she was alive, and Zelda knew that she could get the help she needed.

“Zelda… i’m so proud of you.” Impa whispered between them, a small smile crossing her face. “You can do this. I… I believe in you.” Impa had accepted the sad fate long ago that the Princess would slip out of her grasp eventually, and Impa’s purpose to protect and guide her would run out. She would be left behind, as Zelda went to save Hyrule, and her only hope would be that maybe she could at least help the hero if she needed to. It had been hard to accept, but Impa did so nonetheless. Besides… as chief of Kakariko, how could a relationship with the princess even have worked?

However, Zelda knew that she could not take Impa to go get help. She had to head to the castle, and she didn’t want Impa to follow. Impa needed help right away, or she would begin bleeding again, and Zelda wouldn’t be able to seal it temporarily again. She looked around the battlefield, scouting for someone who could at least escort her (in case she ran into any monsters, as she most likely would, even if a nearby stable wasn’t far away) and was sorely disappointed when she saw no one.

Using the power she could roughly grip onto, Zelda clasped her hands together in front of her chest, sending up a prayer to the goddesses that no one would harm her advisor, before sending her away using the magic. As she faded, she seemed to start to realize what was happening, desperately trying to grab onto the princess.

“I love you, Impa. Wait for me.”

She was gone not long after, but Zelda knew that her words had been heard. She watched the golden dust slowly fade away in front of her, tears silently rolling down her cheeks now. Her eyes hurt from crying so much, at this point, but at least she could help people now. She would help people, she decided, and began her journey to the castle.

celebrating my 5 year top surgery anniversary today, so I wanted to draw something that reflects the bliss of feeling your chest for the first time. happy pride 🏳️‍⚧️⚧️💙🩷🤍

To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love.

Fuck it, adding more since I can’t help myself.

So I’ve been a fan of this show for years, way before the Broadway version came out, so my first experience with all of these songs was animatics of the original cast recordings.

I know a lot of people prefer the live versions because of the extra emotions, this song especially, but the original recording gives me a vibe I haven’t seen matched by a live performance so far. Samantha Pauly’s version of All You Wanna Do gives me the impression that she hasn’t yet realized how fucked up her life was until the final chorus. The emotions on display are raw and unprocessed, which is understandably quite appealing. It helps you better relate to the character and makes you feel like you are living through this moment with her. But the Cast Recording, the one sung by Aimie Atkinson, gives me the impression of someone who has known for a while.

Samantha’s Howard is scared, she is lashing out in anger, yes, but also fear. Aimie’s Howard shows a subtler kind of anger. She is angry at herself for not realizing sooner, she is angry at her abusers for every time they used her for their own benefit, she is angry at the world for the fact that no one stepped in or said anything, but most of all she is angry that there’s nothing she can do to change it. It was over for her from the very first time she was used and she knows it. It is the anger of defeat, of acceptance. She died powerless and alone, villainized in her death as a temptress just like they did with Anne. And yet even in death, all she is known for is how she was used by the men in her life. Sam’s Howard is the new kid on the block, she is still lashing out because she has not realized the consequences of doing so. She’s almost like a rabid animal, running entirely off of instinct. Aimie’s Howard, on the other hand, has been here long enough for the instinct to have mostly faded away, but not entirely. Those little bits of anger still slip out, the little refusals.

I suppose a better way to phrase it is I see Sam’s Howard running away from the hands still trying to grab her, similar to how many have visualized the end of Anne’s song with her running from the guards. But just like with Anne, this is a fruitless endeavor. Aimie’s Howard knows she has no place to go, but that doesn’t stop the pain and anger she feels. It’s like she’s looking at a tsunami coming down on her, knowing it’s too late to run. Knowing all she can do is stand there and let it happen. But knowing doesn’t stop the fear. All you can do is mask it and accept your fate.

Sorry, that was a mess, I’m still having so much trouble wording my feelings about this song because there are so many in my body right now I need them out

The thing that really captivates me about this performance is the lighting and how it mixes with the choreo of the other queens. They are draped in shadow almost the entire time and their faces are specifically obscured whenever they put their hands on Howard. It gives me two distinct impressions, 1. that the men in her life were never genuine with her and always hid their true intentions to get closer to her, and 2. that this was how those men saw Howard, a faceless nobody, pretty enough to be used for their pleasure and then discarded, because she meant nothing to them. She wasn’t a person in their eyes, she was barely more than a shadow.

Also like the specific placement of their hands. At first it’s hands on the shoulders like a controlling parent keeping you in line, then there’s another on the waist from behind, unable to see who’s grabbing you but keeping you pressed against them, facing outwards like a prize to show off but unable to leave, and then they add the ones on the legs, keeping her from running away. All of them focus on hindering movement. They also remind me of puppet strings, which I find interesting as the only part of her without a “string” is her head. The rest of her body is being used against her will but her mind still remains, despite the slowly forming cracks.

This ties in to the order of the placement too. They take her hands first as a metaphor of them leading her down this awful path via their grooming and also to do some of the less than holy acts she describes in her second verse. Then they take her torso, her body, to use for their enjoyment. Lastly they take her legs now that she’s doubting if this is something she’s okay with, if she wants this, so she can’t run away from it. But again, notice that they never take her head, something she herself remarks on in her last verse. They don’t care if they control her thoughts or emotions as long as she’s doing what they want, those don’t matter. Even if she says no, if she says she’s done with this, they own the rest of her, what she says and thinks has no value to them. They tricked her into agreeing while she was young and by the time she realized it was wrong she was already in too deep.

Well, that was depressing. Ask me if you want more thoughts.

@yourboywitch Do you mind if I ask you to weigh in on this? I’m curious what you think

brendan brisson as raccoons

yes you read it right. i was bored and decided to do this, i hope you enjoy it <3