#quiet-or-die

[ofswordsandpens]

percy, mentally ill: I feel like I deserve to die. It's a punishment because im a horrible person. Does that sound crazy?

jason, also mentally ill: No that tracks bro samesies

[flowerbloom-arts]

Change is a two-way street.

(Is my favoritism towards the Damsel obvious enough, or?)

note: TLQ [aka my sona Bloombird] is a butch sapphic and this is yuri

[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.

[knockknockitsnickels]

"Sacrifice the Yourself" (title pending), the hip new slay the princess swap AU, in which you and the girlies must decide if you're gonna let a giant bird stab you (and maybe.... find love?!)

[hyperblue]

interviewer: there have been some rumors circling around that you're a taken man now :) would you like to share who's a lucky girl or guy?

tim drake, torn between wanting to keep his relationship with kon private and safe from prying eyes but at the same time wanting to brag about his drop gorgeous boyfriend to everyone who would listen: uh.

[hellfire--cult]

The eye technique of looking into your eyes, to then drift to your lips and back up again.

[ruporas]

chapter 90 vash

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

In a way this was the best outcome.

Timothy Drake was always meant to die.

He cheated the reaper when he was nine knife at his throat chasing around vigilantes who wouldn't have ever known him as anything other than a statistic.

He survived past fifteen which for any boy who wears those bright colors knows is an achievement.

Luck is what they will say.

Bad luck specifically wrong place right time at least in his mind.

Bleeding out with his brothers surrounding him.

A bullet he took before it could reach Damian.

He can see him he looks terrified standing a good two feet away which is an accurate description of them a gap that neither boy could ever seem to close.

Jason lost his mask somewhere he can feel the press of his fingers trying to keep blood in. Demanding it. Hopeing for a miracle. That's Jason Todd.

Holding him Dick's arms wrapped around him whispering

"I have you sweetheart I know it hurts, Dad's coming baby just a little bit longer."

He remembers a poem he found right after Jason died he had wondered if Jason raged fought tooth and nail to keep breathing.

But with all his brothers here his Father on the way he can't think of a better time.

As his breathe slows and he feels his vision fade he doesn't fight.

Lying in his brothers arms Timothy Jackson Drake takes his last breath.

Peacefully falling into the night.

There was no rage only a sense of peace for a tired hero who could finally rest.

[nottspocket]

New job starting tomorrowwww wish me luck

[creative-clawmarks]

Fun Fact: the more afraid you are the easier it is for him to find you.

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KO-FI

[bllshtbel]

congratulations to joseph quinn for having a character who gets a happy ending for the first time in his entire acting career

[tei-to-tei]

December 1 - Warm Drink

[cenpede]

Relevant mgs shit posts made between works

[thewhizzyhead]

the entirety of "Just For Once" is like really fuckin emotionally captivating alright and we can all attribute that to Lauren Lopez's incredible performance (like holy fuck those high notes), the layered lyrics, and the thin line of Ruth singing as the Barbecue Monologue character and her singing as herself but you wanna know what REALLY got me crying because of how Lauren's eyes and delivery really makes it clear that Ruth is speaking as herself?

"I used to dance. I used to dance."

[violent138]

Tim: "Aw, does someone have a crush?"

Damian: "Silence, Drake, there's only one love of my life--"

Bruce, wincing as he remembers his past experiences when Dick was around that age, and really hoping he doesn't have to be embarrassed in front of multiple colleagues again:

Damian: "--and it's my katana."

Tim: "Good God, you're lame."

Bruce, nearly collapsing from relief:

[dipperscavern]

about to go to bed, but this post got me thinking… cregan x reader w strange interests.,… walk with me here

people have always been a bit… unaccepting, when it comes to you and the things you like. they’ll enjoy your personality well enough, laugh with you at feasts, treat you courteously at gatherings, but decide they don’t enjoy your company the moment you show a different part of yourself.

one that takes a special interest in poisonous plants, knows how to prepare a body after death, collects bones and feathers, charts astrology… and your pets are usually quite successful in labeling you as completely mad.

you understand to some extent. different is strange, and people reject the things they don’t understand. such is the games of highborns (a rather cruel dance, really.) but you found you couldn’t find it within yourself to try and change. after all, comparison is the thief of joy, as your beloved old maester would say.

you were alright with solidarity, if being alone meant being yourself — but the old gods have always been said to have a sense of humor.

it seems cregan stark is not so off put by such oddities. quite the opposite, in fact.

your pet spider doesn’t repulse him, like it does the others. while he would’ve been most content to allow you the sole responsibility of spider-handling, it didn’t take much convincing on your part. only a simple statement of reassurance, a small smile, a warmth of your cheeks at his interest, and cregan finds himself sat on the bed as you retrieve your eight-legged friend.

whatever doubts he harbors instantly vanish as you sit across from him, un-cupping your hands to reveal a much bigger spider than he previously thought. tarantula, he’s heard the maesters say (with horror.)

while one holds the maesters’ worst nightmare, your other hand reaches for his. he takes note of your warmth, the softness of your hands in comparison to his own. people usually don’t touch him without permission, and, perhaps strangely, he wishes you to never hesitate when doing so.

he uncurls his palm for you, and before you transfer the creature, you softly ask for him to “please don’t scare him.” — and cregan’s heart skips a beat, because he knows at that very moment, he would heed your every request. anything you ask of him, it is yours.

perhaps this revelation would produce a greater affect on lord stark if he wasn’t so encapsulated with staying still while your creature begins to crawl from your palm to his own.

its great work to not tense himself or pull away when it happens, but you watch him so intensely, waiting to pull your creature to safety at any indicator. so he stills. you ground him, even if unaware.

once your creature is fully in his palm, it seems comfortable. sitting itself, abdomen flush to cregan’s palm to encompass the warmth he offers. you sit like that in silence for a moment, cregan observing it’s markings, and you waiting for the warden of the north’s assessment of you and your creature.

after some time, cregan speaks, tone different from the usual one of lord stark.

“Does he have a name?”

you can’t help but smile at his words, and he can’t help the way your expression makes one of his own tug at his lips. “Bones.”

“Bones?” he repeats, face relaxing in his surprise. his words don’t contain any malice, only a question in its tone.

you nod tentatively, as if awaiting judgement. “When found in the kitchens, a cook tried killing him with a chicken bone.”

his gaze momentarily flickers to the spider as he nods his head, a sort of understanding passing between the wolf and the arachnid. something else is there, too. a fondness for you unfurling in his chest — how you can find beauty in such things; things deemed unwanted by most people.

cregan’s gaze finds you again, and you look at the spider in his hands with such reverence it makes his lips part in silent adoration.

you’ve captured him, he thinks. he’s damned.