#|| working on ic posts now!

[aster-draws]

Identity shenanigans are a hallmark of all superhero fanfictions and i will never get tired of writing them.

This is from chapter 19 of my fic Better Halves (and other such falsehoods) which is like 100k (so far) of Tim and Danny being idiots like this please go read it it's a labor of love.

just the painted bit below the cut :) if you want it

[phoenixcatch7]

Okay but it's super interesting how

Din = Power = Ganondorf

Naryu = Wisdom = Zelda

Farore = Courage = Link.

Because Din, in the hylian creation myth, created the physical world. Naryu then created the laws - gravity, time, etc. And Farore finally created life - plants and people.

Din created the body, naryu the mind, Farore the soul.

And the triforce and its wielders so perfectly reflect that.

Ganon is physical power, he is big and intimidating and he breaks things. He is cunning and determined, but that's not what he focuses on. He is might makes right.

Zelda is wisdom and cleverness. She is stall tactics and information and team work. She is a powerful mage with a spine of steel, but that's not how she'll win. She is the pen being mightier than the sword.

Link is courage and persistence. He is the wild card sneaking behind enemy ranks, always moving, plunging into terrifying situations head first. He's a phenomenal fighter with a keen wit, but that's not what will get him through his challenges. He is bravery not being the absence of fear but the triumph over it.

They sit in perfect parallels to each other.

And ganon is reborn through his body - his resurrection is immortality. No matter how low he is cast, as long as he has a body he can claw his way back. He can cling to his power, build it ever higher.

Zelda is reborn through the magic of her bloodline. It's the accumulated knowledge handed down for generations, the unique power she must master, the skills she must develop to survive and get her kingdom out the other side intact. Even her name, the knowledge of herself, is handed down from all the way from the very first. Her ancestors knowledge of her future presence, her stability, is what gives her the edge.

Link is reborn in spirit. He is not bound by flesh or blood. Just like his wanderlust soul he can reappear in any time or place. His variation, his unpredictability, is exactly how he fights. It's what makes him so hard to pin down.

Ganons need to build strength means he can't chase after link. Links impulsiveness means zelda can outwit him. Zeldas stationary predictability means she's an easy target for ganon.

But the other direction?

Fire melts ice, ice redirects lightning, lightning burns fire.

And that's the very essence of the triforce.

[septimusmoonlight]

You doing ok?

hi

[chittychittyyangyang]

Between waiting for V10 news, my own personal stuff, and the US now being on fire (partially) literally, I know I've been pretty quiet here. Even before all of this I was pretty shut down emotionally, and I am just very absent as a person right now. I feel like many are struggling, and I wanted to share something that has helped me some:

What I find myself thinking about the most is like that she was out there and brave and looking for love at a time when her existence was criminalized. It's hard to remember that there was all of this light in the dark ages, but there was still these brazen romances. And I don't know that love was still stronger than fear, at least at times.

You're Wrong About - Kitty Genovese and “Bystander Apathy”

Stories about existing and loving in a world that wants you gone. It's not that horrible things didn't happen or won't happen, but that we will make do. Loving who you love, and being you matters. All of us matter. Our stories and lives, big and small matter.

Take care of those close to you. Find little moments of joy. Disconnect when you can. Read, create, and rest when you can. If you feel like nothing you do can change anything, volunteer. Sure, you can't fix a broken system right now by yourself, but you can help people have a hot meal they might not otherwise get.

As for the RW/BY stuff here, that's not going to change, other than maybe less in part because I just use this as an archive between volumes. I've been here for so long it would feel weird not to at this point. I know some people have found some level of comfort that I'm still here keeping up this blog, and I hope I continue to provide that for people (and, of course, bees).

[francesderwent]

so for Lent I think I’m going to buckle down on praying compline, and severely limit or eliminate tumblr/insta, but I think I also need to do something exercise-like (because I am losing myself in the world of signs and forgetting what they signify, and also because my inactivity stresses out my very active husband). however I can’t figure out what’s a reasonable expectation for how much or how often to exercise when 1) I have a full time job, 2) I have to make dinner most nights, and 3) I am inclined to be sweaty and gross after any amount of movement.

[asks-n-trolls]

"..."

[iceagebaby]

haven't seen you active in awhile, hope you're doing okay!! ❤️

hi! im doing somehow okay, im just once again struggling with univerisity work but i will be back to posting ocasionally, just using social media is slightly exhausting for me and i didnt want to 'burn out' from it as stupid as it may sound, thank you for asking tho! please have some fish and other sketches

[compacflt]

can i just say that I'm haunted by the image of Ice wearing "one of Mavericks cheapest rolexes". One because of the mental immage of Maverick being the kind of men who not only owns multiple watches but also Rolex, which is absolutely delightful, because oh the quiet vanity of that. And two because of the implied and groundbreaking (to me) domesticity (and defiance of the not talking/acknowledging the thing between the 2 of them) of wearing another person watch. I'm screaming into the void about your brilliance. So I need to ask, do they do that on purpose (before the mission) in a sort if roundabout way of acknowledging each other presence in their life? What would Mav wear that belongs to Ice (apart from that USNA ring eheh)?

pilots/sailors/doctors etc who do high-level specialized work with their hands tend to really be Watch Guys. and “cheap” rolexes (sub $7k ish) are actually pretty affordable if you’re making >$150k a year and want to treat yourself every fifth christmas or something. source: know several sailors & doctors. ALSO the watch ice is wearing in his famous gay plane photoshoot is actually a rolex. So theres some evidence ice at least is (annoying, ostentatious, bad with money, and) a Watch Guy. Maverick’s also wearing a kickass chronograph in TGM so i think he’s also probably a Watch Guy. also… you know, status symbol, honor, et cetera et cetera…

they probably wear each other’s socks because in-regs socks all look the same and they’re both men so who cares. i also hc that they’ve always worn the same size in shirts so each other’s t-shirts are also free game. and was very confusing at the start of their relationship when trying to figure out whose shirt was whose after a midnight rendezvous. lots of accidental shirt mixups. and, yeah, each other’s watches, because most people only see the status and don’t see the detail, and most people aren’t around both ice and mav enough to recognize that “omg last month adm kazansky was wearing the same omega chronometer capt mitchell is wearing today!! theyre totally together!!!” so if ice buys a new watch and maverick salivates over it, sure he can borrow it, whatever. and i think there’s a scene in wwgattai when maverick wears ice’s pj pants hold up lemme find it

“in bare feet.” now wtf does that mean. that could use a rewrite.

ice also wears mavericks leather jacket when they’re on their baseball date in debriefing. at some point when you live with someone long enough your stuff becomes their stuff which was the point of this graf

thinking about it… trying to decide if they’d wear each other’s cologne. that seems like a little much. no i don’t think so.

[probablyscreamingintothevoid]

I love Leo de la Iglesia so much.

Yes he's just a minor character, as many of them are in Yuri on Ice. But that's one of the things that was so special about that show, at least for me. He may have only gotten one short program that we got to watch, he wasn't one of the final 6 to make it to the final, so we saw very little of him. But they had such a way of making him, as well as many others, a thought out and relatable boy.

I watched that show when I was very depressed, majorly struggling to understand why we're all here and what the point off at this was. When getting out of bed was a mountain instead of a molehill and I didn't think that life was going to really get any better. Watching Yuuri Katsuki go through similar issues, realizing that we are often our own worst enemy, that was all really great, helps me a lot. But there was something about Leo.

He's 19, I was 20 or 21 at the time, so we were pretty similar in age and that was really nice. Yuuri and Victor seemed so much older than me, older than I was really able to see myself as. 21 was hell. I couldn't imagine myself as 27, as Victor. (As I type this is am in fact 27, going on 28 in the spring. 💛)

19 year old Leo de la Iglesia. A minor character in a short show that in many way saved my life and certainly saved me from myself. I still don't know exactly what drew me in to him. I'm usually more of a fan of the dark, brooding, angry but is secretly quite soft characters. And Leo... he isn't that.

His name is Leo and he is a Leo and he's just this ray of sunshine and he loses his brain cells when Phichit and Guang-Hong are with him. He cares so much about his sport and the other people in it and he wants to do well but I think they did a good job of showing that he doesn't want to succeed because of other people's failures but because of his own growth.

I wanted to write this really well thought out post about how great Leo is but all I can think of to fully describe him is:

☀️🦁♌️🏠⛸️😁🥰✨💛☀️

So yeah, to summarize: I just think he's neat. He deserves all the love that I bet he will never get because this fandom is dying.

If you're still here, if you're seeing this, I love you. I'm sorry that Mappa hurt us. My fic Cadence isn't dead. It is very much alive and I will update as soon as I am able.

I'm glad you're still here.

Thank you for coming to my TEDTalk about Leo. :)

[ceruleansonata]

Hey, so. Update.

Things have gone really, really bad, really fucking fast.

Isla Yura is trying to recreate the Tragedy of Sablier, and he's using the children of Fianna's.

I'm okay right now. So is Vanessa. Her valet, Hans, is. Not.

Right now, we're trying to find Oz.

[mercless]

@windchaser: the   heart   (   or   is   it   a   bell   ?   )   in   his   chest   hammers   in   his   ears   ,   setting   his   teeth   on   edge   ,   each   pearl   tremorous   and   sending   vibrations   outwards   ,   shaking   just   beneath   the   first   layer   of   his   skin   until   that   too   grows   quiet   and   still   ,   not   in   peace   or   any   true   absence   of   sound   or   movement   ,   but   in   the   way   that   one   goes   deaf   over   time   ,   or   the   way   an   inexperienced   rider's   legs   grow   numb   .   each   breath   is   effortful   ,   shallow   when   he   tries   for   deep   ,   more   inhales   than   exhales   ,   and   it's   silly   ,   all   of   this   comparison   :   after   all   ,   there   isn't   and   hasn't   been   any   life   in   his   chest   for   a   long   time   ,   no   need   to   draw   breath   and   risk   someone   hearing   ,   and   despite   how   real   the   threat   feels   ,   the   walls   seeming   to   enclose   around   both   of   them   like   a   tomb   ,   his   tomb   ,   any   actual   danger   lies   just   beyond   their   only   exit   .   it   is   all   in   his   head   . he   knows   this   .   he   knows   this   ,   and   yet   — the   edges   of   his   vision   begins   to   dim   like   the   mouth   of   a   tunnel   ,   and   with   the   slightest   buckle   of   his   legs   ,   he   slumps   forward   ,   head   pressing   into   the   wall   just   over   talon's   shoulder   for   support   as   he   squeezes   his   eyes   shut   .   this   ,   however   ,   is   as   effective   as   trading   one   closed   space   for   only   a   slightly   less   closed   place   ,   but   his   hand   ,   trembling   against   the   wall   ,   contracts   ,   and   it   is   almost   grip-like   ,   almost   reaching   ,   and   is   stopped   only   by   the   stone   that   claws   embed   themselves   in   .   he   will   take   whatever   he   can   ,   he   thinks   ,   or   at   least   it   must   be   him   thinking   ,   for   who   else   would it   be   thinking   this   thought   ,   this   thought   that   rises   to   the   top   of   his   mind   like   the   air   bubbles   of   one   drowning   .   there's   something   of   a   sigh   ,   more   like   a   quick   puff   of   air   ,   and   he   deflates   ;   his   neck   gives   in   to   the   heavy   ,   weak   lean   of   his   head   ,   slipping   from   the   wall   and   lolling   upon   talon's   shoulder   .   it   is   unclear   whether   or   not   he   fully   or   at   all   registers   this   contact   ,   a   touch   that   would   appear   intimate   if   drawn   from   any   other   context   .   the   way   his   claws   dig   further   into   the   wall   could   mean   anything   .

Eyes alight with adrenaline dart about the confined crawlspace the unlikely duo had taken cover in. With the threats lurking just outside of the makeshift cover, not even the shadows seem trustworthy in their cool embrace. A worn boot gets shuffled further away from the band of light that acted as the border between false safety and hellish peril. The slow, even breaths moving their frame did not match the wild rhythm trapped behind their ribs. It was eventual that their paths would cross with the worst creatures the bowels of Hell could regurgitate into this humble, dusty world. The gunslinger at least was smart enough to know when his match was met, seeing as he went for cover rather than try his luck with the mess of brimstone and bone that was making its way through whatever was left of this unfortunate settlement. And if the situation weren't so dire, Talon could have conjured some words to compare this fact to how not even that sense of his had helped the dead man from not being stuck with this state. Or how he should put the same train of thought toward this doomed quest to stop the Harbingers…

It wasn't the heavenly glow of their blasted feathers desperately trying to be hidden from sight, nor the stink of their brimstone, that worried Talon on the effectiveness of their hiding from the monstrosity that needn't fret over one haunted man and a poor excuse of a demon. When they're certain that there was nothing else creeping just beyond their vision, Talon's hat lifts so that their eyes of embers could next see what their soulful associate made of their situation, only for brows plastered with blonde strands and drenched in salt and grime to crease at his struggle. But they know what it is; so closely stuck between those cobbled walls they can feel the trembling and hear the hitched breathing search for receding air. They know, because there was only one other time they've ever seen him in such a state. When the wooden beams had collapsed and there was more smoke than sense in the air.

The realisation feels like a veil lifted from their eyes, but it's of no help when Yone lurches forward. Toward them. Locked into place with lungs constricting and veins tensing, Talon waits for the blow that has been threatened all too many times before. The one given to the demons he's hunted down again and again, only waiting for the hellspawn's guard to drop even slightly to be his opening. Trapped between his face and that reaching hand, they brace for the worst. Only for the sound of scraping gravel, and a pitiful exhale, to wring them back into the present instead of their fearful, fictional scenarios. Strands of white settle over their shoulder and they dare not move - cannot move - as the gunslingers head finds their shoulder to lean on instead; Their protruding feathers, ruffled from the situation, act as a far softer pillow than their clammy skin or rigid brimstone. Eyes as wide and glistening as coins do not blink as he remains in this resting place. Every follicle of hair and keratin stood on end. Their own hands finding purchase in the wall to their back to help with the added weight upon them. Even as clear as it is, that he is in no state to scheme, there is still hesitance stemming from the demon's unease.

Focus ticks from features hidden away in cascading locks to the extended hand enclosing them, and finally to over the gunslinger's shoulders into that blinding light beyond their hiding spot. The grumblings of an old nature is cold to his woes of being stuck in such an enclosed space, urging Talon to save themself before he brings them down with his folly. And the thing with a pulse cannot help but wonder why he sought comfort in their presence. If it was even a passing thought... Thankfully, time is of the essence, and as the rumbling danger quietens, Talon knows that the small, fleeting window of opportunity is an unforgiving one. Their neck, which had craned away from the other's head, now leans their own toward his ear until the rim of hats meet. Words as quiet as a blade through the air slither from their tongue, hot breath disturbing the fine hairs shielding the other from sight,

"Stay with me, gunslinger." Gingerly, their own claws find his shoulder and take a hold of his coat. Not to move him - in fact they aren't too sure why at all. This wasn't the time to help gather strength to push through his fear, nor resolve what clutched at his heart. But then, when would it ever be? Certainly never if they didn't leave this cranny. Talon holds then, expecting the very walls enclosing them to be torn through at any moment. But when their fears are once again left wanting, they return their focus to Yone with another attempt to rouse him. The bed of feathers beneath him being pushed upward, encouraging that he rises.

"You need to be here in the waking moment. This interstice ain't our grave." Their worn, silvered tongue promises no plan against the doom lingering just out of sight. But despite every dispute and argument against their chances, they were going to need to face it together to have any hope in hell.

[yakny]

[spiritcc]

at this point I don't even know if tag fragmentation in the general russian holmes space is worth addressing. a few years ago I successfully kept the ancient customs intact because I wrote a post so deranged and pretentious it displeased people into doing what I wanted but nowadays what's the point in making a grand return of being terminally online if yall kinda right

[darksonofsparda]

Unprompted Asks || Always Accepting

@executionher sent: "You've. . . you've returned, Vergie!" not even giving him a chance to respond, Catherine jumps into his arms, covering his face in pink-lipstick-stained kiss marks. "it was getting soooooo boring without you, I missed you so much!!"

Approximately two hours ago, Vergil finally returned from his joint devil-hunting job with Dante and Trish all the way in Eastern Europe, the darkslayer swordsman had arrived back home before Catherine got back from her human day job. His arrival would of course be a surprise, as she probably wasn't expecting him back so soon. To pass the time by as he waited for her to come home, Vergil sat himself down and lost himself inside the pages of a book, one he had read before so he could stop upon her return and not care about going back to it.

The half-devil had gotten about halfway through the book, right after one of the major fights in the story, and his head perks up from behind the book as soon as he heard the sound of the key unlocking the door. As the door to their luxury apartment opened, he's eyes meet her familiar deep blue gaze, a smile slowly curving onto his lips as she walked in.

Knowing exactly what would come next, he closes the book and sets it down on the side end table for now, rising up to his feet, the second he turns his body to face her, she's already running towards him. The moment she's within arms reach, she leaps at him, and he catches her in his strong arms, her foot rising up as she clung to him like always, he doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her, flashing his devil fangs in a small smile as their foreheads rest against each other before he's assaulted by a flurry of loving kisses, leaving several smears of lipstick on his face and jaw. After their lips lock into a passionate kiss, it holds for several seconds longer until their lips lightly part, still brushing against each other, keeping her in his arms, his hands resting firmly on her hips.

[{ 🗡️ }] - "I've missed you, too. My luscious little rose~" He softly says against her lips, kissing her once more, breaking a bit after.

[{ 🗡️ }] - "No matter how far I go, I'm always coming back here to you."

[horrifichaunts]

It was just another chilly winter day in Hurricane Utah, a rather peaceful si-.

“Maledetto inferno!Figlio di puttana!”

Maybe scratch that last bit as following the string of foreign curse words there are several thunks from the workshop.

[cel-aerion]

I done did a thing.

Kinda quick and dirty, no backing track because I changed the key and also wasn't confident listening to a track without vocals, so I just recorded while listening with an earbud in.

Also took liberties with the second "shout it around town" because I would NOT have done that justice.