#hee ha hoo hee

[way-to-the-future]

Malo - A Scorched Psalter

Uncovered beneath a drift of snow in eastern Coerthas, not far off the frozen shores of the Maidenmere. While much of it has been damaged by fire, it appears to have reached the crushing cold before it was entirely consumed. A turn of the pages reveals beautiful illuminations and carefully-lettered pages charred near to illegibility. No standing structure remains nearby which could have housed such a lovingly-produced booklet. For its quality, it may have been the possession of a knight errant or a clerical official perished in the freeze - but this would not explain the state it is in now.

Of its contents, the office and all miniatures seem to have been completely destroyed. Only a small section of the hymnary remains untouched by fire - including one unfamiliar psalm, “Oh Blessed Lady Crowned with Peace...”

Oh blessed lady crowned with peace / let the pain of your penance rain on me! As you walked unflinching to your earthly end / so I seek that garden which your valour tends.

Near-swallowed by ice, a nearby dodecagonal foundation retains just enough of its tiled embellishment to be identifiable as a baptistery. Shattered, burnt wood littering the floor and parallel scratch marks suggest the presence of benches, perhaps for a catechist to sit and teach their pupils.

Sing of rage, rage, great lady - / the blood of the child is our solemn debt. Forgive our shame, shame great lady - / my sinner’s ichor do I freely let.

Beyond, the footprint of a cloister in the Ishgardian style can be barely defined - it must have represented the central part of this complex, and suffered the worst from fire and wind. A cellar leading down has been frozen shut, and a rank, cold odor wards off investigation.

Just as you bore love ‘twixt the great wyrm’s jaws, / so through fire and steel hold I to ancient law. With the Fury’s passion and no fear of fate, / let me soar like the aevis on your brother’s hate.

Only the narthex of the temple survived mostly intact, with hasty prayers scratched into the stonework by visiting pilgrims. Down the nave, smears of long-frozen blood streak towards the apse, before curving out a nearby door to a ridge overlooking the lake.

Beneath the snow, two score some bodies - charred, bloodied, and still wearing their habits - lie in clean rows, perfectly preserved by the Coerthan cold.

Sing of rage, rage, great lady - / the blood of the child is our solemn debt. Forgive our shame, shame great lady - / my sinner’s ichor do I freely let.

[obsob]

my dreams are sweet when im with you!!!!!!!

[beatcroc]

there's no way the bathroom at peppino's pizza is actually that big but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ . hey ummm anyway.... i care them...... anyway there's a lil ramble on my take on fake pep's like psyche or whatever in tags on the og post if ur into that kinda thing :y

hey! it's a series! fake peppino world tour: [noise] [noisette] [peppino]<- u are here [gustavo] [gerome] [noisette again]

[yearning-gay]

ugghughuyghh body mods 💞💞💞 letting someone modify you to theirs wants and needs and specifications like you're a toy or a machine and so absolutely owned also? them discussing how they'd like a specific tattoo or piercing on you, not to ask if you'd like one but to inform you that you'll be getting one and perhaps to get ideas for new modifications? maybe their ideas start escalating to bottom and top surgeries to further customize you to their specifications and desires? im fucking throbbing???

[shiftythrifting]

I took these out of storage recently to display on my shelf! I found them in one bag in Goodwill once yeeeaaars ago. (Except the big green one, that's Frank. My mom found him on Facebook) I've always called them my Jester babies.

[klmmcqueen]

thinkin bout them

[androgynouspenguinexpert]

(blood below the cut)

Lurched like a stray to the arms that were open

No shortage of sordid; no protest from me

[skyward-floored]

Impa has had plenty of battle experience in her life.

Countless days spent training in both tactics and fighting itself, long hours plugged into doing nothing but honing the skills of her tribe and other abilities she’s been gifted with. Learning the most effective ways to use them all together, and win any fight.

But there’s really no way to prepare yourself for a battle in which both your past lover (who can’t exactly be called her husband since Impa hasn’t even spoken to him in almost two decades, and has also for some reason aligned himself with an army of monsters) and son (who is unaware of the identity of either of his parents, and shouldn’t be on the battlefield anyway since he’s not even of age) are both running around in on opposite sides, making it impossible to keep track of either of them.

Impa huffs as she dodges a spear, worry and exasperation clashing together within her.

She’s lost sight of Link for the third time already this battle, and only has a vague idea of where Volga ended up. Link has demonstrated he can handle himself, but he’s still only a trainee, and Impa’s seen (even from a distance) what sort of trouble he can get into.

And Volga...

The questions that have been swirling around in her head ever since the battle start to come to life again, but Impa ignores them, focusing not on the hurt and confusion and instead on her current goal.

“Where did the boy go, Link?” she asks the captain stationed at the keep she’s helping defend, slashing past a bokoblin and narrowly saving a soldier’s head.

The captain frowns, holding his shield up to block a stray arrow. “I lost sight of him, all I know is he took out a whole squad of bokos and ran off,” he says, forehead creased.

“I saw him heading to the abandoned fort ma’am,” a soldier calls towards her. “Someone said that dragon-man is back there, I think he went to go fight him off.”

A cold feeling steals into Impa’s chest.

“Idiot boy is going to get himself killed,” the captain at her side mutters, slicing viciously at a monster. “Trainees shouldn’t be out here at all, no less fighting dragons. Boy barely looks old enough to shave.”

Impa more than agrees, but doesn’t waste her time with words, leaving the keep in the captain’s capable hands, and taking off to go find Link.

...and Volga.

She follows the soldier’s words, heading to the fort he’d pointed out. Sure enough, as she gets closer, she sees streams of fire burst into the air, hears the clash of weapons and familiar shouts.

Her heart skips a beat, and she runs past bokoblins and moblins alike, pausing only momentarily to fight her way past a few.

None of the monsters that get in her way are terribly tough, but they take time to fight, and Impa is getting anxious, casting continued glances at the smoke and fire nearby. She’s seen firsthand today how good of a fighter Link is, but she’s also well aware of Volga’s strength.

And Link... will need help.

The last bokoblin falls and Impa runs for the fort, arriving just in time to see Volga slam a clawed fist into Link. He cries out as he’s thrown across the cobblestones, landing in a motionless heap, and Impa bolts, blood roaring in her ears.

She slides to a stop in front of Link when Volga tries to advance, putting herself between them and blocking his path. The dragon knight stares at her, shadowed eyes narrowed, and Impa glares back, unmoving in her defense of Link.

She sees no sign of the man she fell in love with in his eyes.

“How noble,” Volga sneers, embers falling from his mouth. “Enjoy your shared grave.”

The fire around him begins to intensify, and Impa’s eyes widen, knowing immediately what it means.

“Oh no...” she breathes, and turns back to Link in a panic, getting to a knee and touching his shoulder. He shifts at her touch, but just a little, his eyes flickering when she shakes him. Volga growls, and Impa whirls back towards him, knowing she doesn’t have enough time to pull Link out of here.

The air around Volga wavers with heat as flames lick up his form, and then he moves forward, blasting a huge plume of fire directly at them both, hotter than death mountain itself.

And right before the flames hit, Link stumbles in front of Impa, a hand outstretched like he hopes to hold back the flames with nothing but his arm.

Impa barely has enough time to be horrified (he’s only a boy, he shouldn’t be protecting her, she can’t watch her son die—) before the flames engulf them both.

...

But instead of burning alive in her former-lover’s flames, Impa instead feels a gentle warmth.

It’s equally soothing and powerful, and she opens her eyes, not even realizing she’d closed them. The sight that meets her makes her startle, and she stares up at Link in utter shock.

Golden light is pouring around Link— around her son, in a wide, protective glow, encircling and keeping them both safe. All of him holds a shine, but his left hand is glowing especially bright, triangles outlined on the back in a beautiful luminescent gold. A sign of which Impa would know anywhere and had already begun to suspect, but almost doesn’t want to believe, to face what it truly means for them all.

Link is the Hero.

Volga’s flames finally peter off, and the light fades, but Link still holds his hand up, fingers shaking a little. Volga studies him, giving Link a calculating look as his eyes dart across his face, and Impa finds herself holding her breath.

Will he notice the similarities, will he pick up on the features he and Link share, will he put the pieces together—

But Volga appears not to recognize anything amiss about Link, or even herself, and he barely spares her a glance as he growls something about not being beaten, and departs the battlefield.

Link shakily falls to a knee almost the moment he’s gone, and Impa resists the urge to grab him by the shoulders and make sure he’s okay, instead joining his side not too quickly.

“H-how...” he croaks, staring at his hand in equal awe and terror. “What was...”

“The triforce of courage,” Impa supplies, and he looks at her, his face covered in grime and sweat, and layered with a healthy amount of shock.

She takes a deep breath as what the meaning of this truly signifies begins to sink into her chest, fear and pride and several other emotions all vying for her attention. But she ignores them all, especially the sharp ache at the realization her son has a long fight ahead of him.

A monster howls somewhere nearby, accompanied by a soldier’s yell, and Impa closes her eyes, then reopens them, packing the emotions away with practiced ease.

“...I’m afraid we don’t have time for me to explain everything to you right now,” she apologizes, offering Link a hand up. “But I promise I will. At the moment, we have a battle to win.”

Link swallows, looking like he wants to say more. But then he straightens his shoulders and nods, letting her pull him to his feet. Impa can feel his hand still faintly shaking, and she can’t resist giving it the lightest of squeezes before she lets go, quickly returning her attention to the battle still raging outside the fort.

They can figure all of this out later. She can figure all of this out later.

Right now, they have a battle to win.

[floofery]

little doodle of Basil and Sunny just. hangin out. being bros . homies you know because theyre best friends and all (homosexual)

happy valentines day everyone!

[giratina-and-the-skys-bouquet]

[callofthecorvus]

I like the thought of Reaper gifting rocks to Geno, similarly to gentoo penguins, as an act of courtship and symbol of commitment. Often spending hours looking for the perfect rock or pebble to gift.

And you bet Geno has kept every single one.

[elavoria]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @sheirukitriesfandom, thanks! I tag you back and also @nostalgic-breton-girl, @dirty-bosmer, @theoneandonlysemla, and whoever else wants to join!

Have some more Ani, Unselm, and Sheila—who is none too pleased Ani’s been trespassing through the windows:

“You knew she was sneaking in.” “I…” he began, then faltered and stared at his lap. “I did, yes.” He met her eyes pleadingly, and added with the smallest measure of defiance, “It would take a thief of remarkable caliber to replicate such a feat unnoticed, so I didn’t think much of it.” “And what if this remarkable thief steals from the Manor?” Sheila asked. “She wouldn’t,” Unselm said at once, only to turn to Anithil uncertainly. “You wouldn’t, would you?” “Don’t worry, Lady Heidmarch,” Anithil assured her with a smile. “You’re not the sort of person I enjoy robbing.”

[the-angst-chronicles-fanworks]

There was that picture of a goat-sheep hybrid that had really cool horns so I gave them to Eddie :P

[eridangan]

I got inspired and couldn't stop myself from drawing @/lunatricxxx on twitter

[sergle]

mMMMM my doctor "renewed" my meds but instead of actually renewing the most recent one, he went back and renewed the version that costs $300 per bottle. kewl

[vaperarmand]