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Heroes of Winds
After 174 layers and 9 hours, I am done with this piece right before Linktober! Love all of these sillies sm :3c Hope you all enjoy this chain of (heroes of) Winds!
Credits to everyone (Ya'll are so cool):
Tune from @linked-rails by me! (@ilikefork)
'Wind' from @linkeduniverse by @jojo56830
Wind from @recalled11 by @l3ominor
Shrimp from @link-rejoin by @v-toast
Splatoon!Wind by @sea-salt-lemon-sugar
Wind from @linked-maze by @frulleboi
Sailor from @linksfunroadtrip by @waroferas, @islandlobster & @linkvcr
And last, but not least!
Wind from @limited-hero by @kenxboi
#Tell me if i should add/remove any tags or @'s please!#'wind' in quotations cuz his official name technically isn't wind#lira tune#linked rails#lu wind#linked universe#recalled wind#recalled#lr shrimp#link rejoin#splatoon wind#lm wind#linked maze#lfrt sailor#lfrt#links fun roadtrip#lh wind#limited hero#links meet au#linkverse#zelda au#eggdraws#im very proud of these :3
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what is it with me and characters named Four
FYI the little blorbo squid is called Agent 4, they're from Splatoon!!
#linked rails#lira#track&trace#links meet au#zelda au#link meets au#link au#loz au#lira four#linked rails four#fsa link#agent 4#splatoon#splatoon agent 4#agent 4 splatoon
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time machine
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#shiguang dailiren#時光代理人#link click#lu guang#cheng xiaoshi#aashi doodles#im suffering rn and want to suffer with others so here's my contribution#lu guang stayed pretty composed on the plane but would that always the case after he wakes up from his cxs is dead nightmares...#lu guang...😔#this was inspired by that one comment in an jnterview where someone asked why lg's bed rails were so high#and i think it was producer who said it was to keep a certain someone from sneaking into his bed but i was like get real#nothing can stop cxs when he wants to do something. and if he wanted to be up there he would go no matter what#anyways lets imagine this as a scene from s1. back when we all had theories that one or both of the boys were trapped in a time loop#we have this scene where lg is having a panic attack and not even cxs is sure why exactly this is happening but plot moves on we h#yeah plot moves on and we shelve this for later and bam. s3 yep lg stuck in a time loop with cxs always dying trauma is confirmed#anyways thats enough from me for now. ima go throw up byeeee
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THIS IS AWESOME
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drives me crazy EVERY TIME
#ciaran rambling on#LET'S TAG THIS#honkai impact 3rd#honkai star rail#link click#omniscient reader's viewpoint#persona 3#persona 5#trigun#pokespe#i could KEEP GOING
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"They are my comfort couple." When there's nothing comforting in them . Basically they are —








They. Are. Doomed. By. The. Narrative.
Is a kind of flex . I have that one. I like to call it mentally ill rizz.
Swallowing myself in sadness alone is boring. Join me in the mentally ill association, mortals .
#doomed by the narrative#doomed couples#joongdok#orv#omniscient reader's viewpoint#ivantill#alnst#alien stage#soukoku#bsd#bungou stray dogs#bungou stray dogs beast#satosugu#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#shiguang#shiguang daili ren#link click#mitsukou#hananene#toilet bound hanako kun#jibaku shounen hanako kun#tbhk#jshk#renheng#hsr#honkai star rail#akiangel#chainsaw man#csm
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so what people have pointed out in the concert trailer (from as far down my tl as i could scroll before it started lagging my browser):
the catcake bouncing around castorice has the detail on the side that makes it clearly the trashcan/trailblazer one

the one ratio picks up doesn't have the trashcan detail; ergo, it's a different catcake

it looks like the one aventurine accidentally stepped on in last year's concert trailer. you know, one of the ones that live with him. in his home

(⬆️ last year's concert trailer)
ratio picks the catcake up by its lid(??? lmao?) and it's smiling and happy like it's not uncomfortable with that, and tosses it (lmao x2) offscreen as if someone's there to catch it

on the right side of stelle, in the direction ratio tosses the catcake, u can see someone's elbow barely in the shot wearing clothing the same brownish-black color as aventurine's usual coat

it doesn't match any of the staff in the next shot

(stelle just like me fr)
it could be jing yuan's elbow, but when we left off, he was sleeping

consensus:

📸✨✨😐🫶✨📸
#oh my fucking god dude we are FEASTING#i would go back and add links to all the twt posts that pointed this out but seriously my browser was lagging so fucking bad#kept the UI on the screenshots for timestamp purposes#hsr#honkai star rail#ratio#dr ratio#ratiorine
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THR33SOME TWITTER LINKS
imagining: blade, jing yuan, dan heng, march, caelus, sunday, ratio, & aventurine
blade x jing yuan x dan heng
༯ they play with jing yuan while hes working
༯ doing it in jing yuans office
༯ using dan heng for their pleasure
༯ jing yuan takes them both
༯ forcing blade into submission
dan heng x caelus x march
༯ march gets them ready
༯ having some fun on christmas
༯ caelus forcing march against den heng
༯ having a bit of fun at their hotel
༯ march riding caelus while dan heng watches
sunday x aventurine x ratio
༯ aventurine and ratio licking up sunday
༯ they touch ratio when hes asleep
༯ they visit sunday when they have free time
༯ helping aventurine come
༯ giving sunday nowhere to go
#honkai sr#honkai x reader#honkai star rail#hsr smut#hsr#hsr aventurine#aventurine honkai star rail#aventurine x reader#aventurine smut#dr ratio#ratiorine#veritas ratio#dr ratio smut#ratio smut#dan heng hsr#dan heng smut#dan heng x reader#march 7th#march 7 hsr#march 7 honkai star rail#caelus hsr#sunday smut#sunday hsr#sunday x reader#hsr sunday#hsr blade#blade hsr#blade smut#blade x reader#twitter links
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' sidlink dancing '
i played around with the colors and really trynna get that romantic dancing vibe goin on, i know i could do better but i am happy with what i got right now! WOOO SIDLINK! SIDLINK! SIDLINK!
#sidlink#sidon x link#link x sidon#シドリン#link#legend of zelda#botw#loz#tears of the kingdom#prince sidon#mochiboniart#breath of the wild#totk#they dancing#sidon is moreso surprised link can keep his balance on the rails than his dancing skills#whatever the elf boy will do to dance with his shark#they are so in love
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orphic; (adj.) mysterious and entrancing, beyond ordinary understanding. ─── 003. the framework.
-> summary: when you, a final-year student at the grove, get assigned to study under anaxagoras—one of the legendary seven sages—you know things are about to get interesting. but as the weeks go by, the line between correlation and causation starts to blur, and the more time you spend with professor anaxagoras, the more drawn to him you become in ways you never expected. the rules of the academy are clear, and the risks are an unfortunate possibility, but curiosity is a dangerous thing. and maybe, just maybe, some risks are worth taking. after all, isn’t every great discovery just a leap of faith? -> pairing: anaxa x gn!reader. -> tropes: professor x student, slow burn, forbidden romance. -> wc: 2.4k -> warnings: potential hsr spoilers from TB mission: "Light Slips the Gate, Shadow Greets the Throne" (3.1 update). main character is written to be 21+ years of age, at the very least. (anaxa is written to be around 26-27 years of age.) swearing, mature themes, suggestive content.
-> a/n: well well well... this took a long damn time. apologies, apologies, but the science had to be figured out. these two are absolute NERDS, i fear. oblivion is absolutely delicious on those who claim to possess and pursue the knowledge of the universe. i fear you will be suffering for a WHILE if youre not into the slow burn HAAHAHAH. also,, if you guys ever want to see the actual equations and notes i took to write some of the science for this chapter, i could post it as well,, hehe,, -> prev. || next. -> orphic; the masterlist.
Hushed voices, the occasional shuffle of papers, the muted hum of thought is all that fills the air in the library. You sit at your usual table, papers strewn before you. The assignment has consumed your thoughts since it was given to you—an open-ended challenge demanding structure, logic, proof. Model something that physics refuses to acknowledge.
Your notes are chaotic, an evolving web of connections scrawled in the margins, crossed out and rewritten. A familiar frustration gnaws at you—the feeling of standing on the precipice of understanding, just shy of articulation. You run a hand through your hair and exhale sharply, staring at the mess of your own making. You need structure, a foundation to hold onto. If the soul exists, then it cannot be an anomaly—it must be governed by laws, patterns, something definable. If every human mind is unique, then what makes them so? The answer cannot be randomness. There must be an underlying form, a universal template from which all variation emerges.
You tap your pen against the page, mind turning. If identity is not a static entity but a recursive function, shaped by initial conditions and iterative transformations, then no self is ever fixed. The soul would not be a singular essence but a structure in motion, a process of becoming. And if this process holds, then consciousness cannot be isolated. The soul, then, is not merely a singular phenomenon—it is networked, existing not only within itself but through its connections. But what is it that determines it?
If this recursion is real, then it must not be a property of human existence but a fundamental principle of consciousness itself, a universal law.
It isn’t proof. It isn’t even a complete theory yet. But it is a start. A framework, a way forward. You stare at the words in front of you, pulse steady but intent.
Your fingers ache from gripping the pen too tightly, your vision blurring as you stare at the same lines of text, reading and rereading without truly absorbing them. The library’s stillness, once a comfort, has become suffocating—a static silence pressing in around you, the air too thick, the rows of bookshelves seemingly endless, as if space itself is closing in.
You lean back, dragging a hand down your face. A glance at the clock startles you. How long have you been here? Long enough that the lamps cast long, slanted shadows over your scattered notes. Long enough that exhaustion has settled into your limbs, dull and insistent.
You need air. Movement. A change in surroundings before your thoughts begin looping endlessly in place.
Gathering your papers into a loose stack, you shove them into your bag with little care for organization. You rise, stretching the stiffness from your spine before heading for the exit. The fluorescent lighting of the library hums overhead as you step out, the cooler evening air brushing against your skin like a quiet relief.
Minutes later, you find yourself at the café, drawn by the promise of warmth and caffeine. As the quiet hum of the city presses in, you click a few buttons on your phone and lift it to your ear.
–
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee lingers in the air, grounding you. You wrap your hands around the ceramic cup, letting its heat seep into your skin. You sit near the window, coffee cup nestled between your hands, eyes skimming the notes spread haphazardly across the table. The light overhead buzzes softly—old wiring, probably—but the sound fades into the background as you focus.
You’re not here to have a breakthrough. You’re here to map the boundaries.
The problem with studying the soul—if you can even call it that—isn’t just defining it. It’s figuring out where to look. If it exists as more than a philosophical concept, then there have to be parameters. A framework.
You flip to a blank page in your notebook.
What is the soul?
A real question. Not in the poetic sense, not in the way people speak about it in hushed tones and late-night confessions, but as a function. A thing with properties.
You write:
— The soul is not isolated. If it were, it wouldn’t interact with the world. People change. Learn. Influence each other. Whatever the soul is, it isn’t locked away inside a single person.
— It has persistent traits, but it is not static. Memories shape behavior. Experience alters perception. The thing that makes you you isn’t a fixed point, but it also isn’t random. There’s continuity, even through change.
— It extends beyond individual experience. Connections leave an imprint. People carry each other—sometimes in ways they can’t explain. If the soul exists beyond metaphor, then its effects should be traceable.
You take a slow sip of coffee. These aren’t conclusions. They’re places to start.
At the very least, if you’re going to chase something this impossible, you have to know what it isn’t–
"Trial and error."
The voice is measured, almost idle, but it cuts through the noise of the café like a well-placed incision.
You jolt, pen slipping from your fingers. Anaxagoras is standing beside your table, hands in the pockets of his coat, gaze flicking over your notes with mild interest. His presence isn’t overwhelming, but it shifts the air in a way you feel immediately. Like a variable introduced into an equation.
"You can’t just—appear—like that," you say, exhaling sharply as you retrieve your pen.
He lifts a brow. "I used the door. Perhaps you weren’t paying attention." His gaze drops back to your notebook, reading without asking, though you suspect if you told him to stop, he actually would. "Trial and error," he repeats, as if the phrase itself is under scrutiny. "A method you seem to be employing."
You sit back slightly, fingers curling around your coffee cup. "You say that like it’s a bad thing."
"Not at all," he replies, voice as even as ever. "It’s an honest approach. Just an unpolished one."
You huff a quiet laugh. "Practicality aside, it’s the only thing I can do at this stage. I'm defining parameters, not solving anything." You tap your pen against the page. "Or would you rather I skip to the part where I give you something half-formed and empirically worthless?"
His mouth curves—just slightly. "I appreciate the restraint."
"High praise."
Anaxagoras doesn’t acknowledge that, but his gaze lingers on your notes a moment longer before he straightens. He doesn’t sit, doesn’t ask to join, but he also doesn’t leave immediately.
Instead, he says, "It’s getting cold."
You blink at him. "What?"
"Your coffee," he nods toward your coffee cup, still mostly full. "You’ve been holding it for minutes without drinking."
You glance down at it, then back up at him. "I didn't realize you were keeping track."
"Well, far be it from me to disrupt your... inefficiency." he remarks, stepping back.
You glance toward the door. "I'm actually waiting for someone."
Anaxagoras tilts his head slightly.
"A friend," you clarify, though you're not sure why it feels necessary to do so.
He makes no move to leave, and you take another sip of coffee, not minding the silence that settles between you. It's surprisingly comfortable, even in its brevity.
Then, the door swings open.
Ilias strides in, scanning the café—then stops dead when he sees the two of you. His eyes flick between you and Anaxagoras, narrowing with immediate, delighted suspicion. And then, with exaggerated slowness, he pivots on his heel, turning straight back toward the exit.
"Oh, for—come back," you call, exasperated.
Ilias replies, raising his hands in mock surrender but grinning as he turns back around. "Please. Continue your—" he gestures vaguely, "—whatever this is."
Anaxagoras exhales, barely more than a breath, and finally steps away from your table. "I’m leaving."
Ilias watches him, expression far too entertained. He mutters just loud enough for you to hear, "I can't believe you invited me to your impromptu date."
You glare at him, but before you can retort, you catch the faintest shift in Anaxagoras' posture—nothing overt, no reaction beyond the briefest pause in his step. Then he continues toward the door, leaving without a word.
You groan, rubbing your temples.
Ilias collapses into the seat across from you like a man overcome by the sheer weight of his own amusement. "That was," he announces, "the single most deliciously awkward thing I have ever witnessed."
You mutter a quiet curse under your breath, flipping to a fresh page in your notebook.
"And yet," he sighs, folding his hands under his chin with a smirk, "here I am—like the universe itself has conspired to place me in this exact moment.”
Ilias is still grinning as he leans back in his chair, stretching lazily. “You know, if you ever need a chaperone for your secret intellectual rendezvous, I’m available.”
You roll your eyes, gathering your notes with more force than necessary. “It wasn’t an—” You stop yourself. There’s no point. Ilias seemingly lives for provocation, and you won’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, you shake your head and lean back in your chair, stretching your arms with a sigh.
Ilias, ever the dramatist, makes a show of settling in across from you, propping his chin in his hands. “You’re unusually quiet,” he muses. “Brooding, even.”
“No.”
“Hmm.” He taps a finger against the table. “That was an awfully long pause for a simple ‘no.’”
You roll your eyes but don’t bother arguing. Instead, you glance out the window, watching the people moving along the street, the steady glow of passing headlights. The café hums around you—low conversations, the occasional clatter of a cup against its saucer. It’s late, but not late enough to leave just yet.
Ilias orders something sweet, drumming his fingers absently against the table while he waits. You sip the last of your now-cold coffee, your mind still lingering elsewhere. A glance at your notes does little to pull you back. The thought won’t let go.
You don’t even realize you’re frowning at your notes until Ilias nudges your cup with his own.
"Thinking about your not-a-date?" he teases, grinning.
You glare at him half-heartedly, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Thinking,” you say simply.
Eventually, Ilias finishes his pastry, brushing crumbs from his fingers before stretching with a yawn.
The two of you step outside together, the shift from the café’s warmth to the crisp night air making you shiver. The city has quieted, the usual rush of movement settling into a steadier rhythm. You walk side by side for a while, boots clicking against the pavement, the hum of distant traffic filling the spaces between conversation.
Even as Ilias chatters on about something inconsequential, the ideas still linger at the edge of your mind, waiting to take shape.
By the next morning, the café is a memory drowned out by the quiet rustle of students filling the lecture hall. The usual pre-class murmur settles into a steady rhythm—books thudding against desks, the sharp clicking of laptop keys, the low hum of voices exchanging half-hearted speculations on today’s topic.
You slide into your usual seat at the front, your notes open in front of you, though your pen remains idle between your fingers. The thoughts that have followed you since the library refuse to resolve, circling just beyond reach. There’s something missing—something foundational, yet frustratingly unformed.
At the lectern, Anaxagoras sets down his drink with practiced ease, the cup making a soft, deliberate sound against the wooden surface. The hall quiets.
He surveys the room with that same composed intensity, his gaze flickering over the assembled students before settling briefly—too briefly—on you.
“Continuity,” he begins, his voice carrying effortlessly, “is a deceptively simple concept. We assume that when two systems interact, they influence each other only at the moment of contact. That once they separate, the interaction ends.”
You straighten slightly. A slow prickle of recognition runs down your spine.
Anaxagoras picks up a piece of chalk and sketches a familiar equation on the board—one you’ve seen before, but never in this exact context. Your fingers tighten around your pen.
“But,” he continues, underlining a key term, “this assumes a linear, local model of influence. What happens, then, if we acknowledge that certain interactions leave something… persistent? That even after separation, a trace remains?”
The rustling of papers around you barely registers. Your thoughts lurch forward, bridging gaps in ways they hadn’t before.
You shift, almost without realizing, and Anaxagoras glances in your direction—briefly, but with intent. He knows.
A student two seats over raises a hand. “Are you talking about quantum entanglement?”
Anaxagoras tilts his head slightly. “A useful analogy, but not a perfect one. Entanglement suggests an instantaneous connection regardless of distance. What I am asking is more fundamental—does influence itself persist, even outside direct interaction?”
A murmur ripples through the hall. A few students exchange looks, some hurriedly scribbling notes, others frowning as they try to grasp the implications.
Your heart beats a fraction faster as the pieces align. The answer should be simple. If two variables are no longer in contact, the influence should end. The system should reset. But—
“They don’t go back to what they were before,” you murmur, half to yourself.
Anaxagoras sets the chalk down. “Louder.”
The words form before hesitation can stop them. “Even apart, they still retain the effect of their interaction. They update each other, whether they remain in proximity or not.”
The silence that follows is the kind that shifts the atmosphere of a room. Not an absence of sound, but a space filled with quiet recognition.
Anaxagoras watches you, his expression unreadable, but you swear something flickers in his gaze.
You grip your pen tighter. “There’s a kind of imprint,” you continue, voice steadier now. “An effect that doesn’t disappear even after separation. A persistence beyond time or proximity.”
He nods once, the movement precise. “Nonlinear. Nonlocal.”
A slow breath escapes you.
The clock on the wall ticks forward. A student coughs. Someone flips a page too loudly. The world presses back in, indifferent to the shape of revelation.
Anaxagoras turns away first, back to the board, where the equation remains half-finished. He picks up the chalk again, his voice returning to its usual cadence, folding the moment neatly back into lecture.
His gaze flickers back to you for a moment—steady, contemplative, threaded with something unreadable. Interest, perhaps. Amusement, restrained but evident in the slight tilt of his head. And then, just low enough for only you to hear:
“You were closer than you thought.”
You exhale, staring at the marginalia scrawled in the edges of your notebook—sharp, decisive, yet somehow restrained. Outside the window, the campus air carries the crisp scent of rain—not quite fallen, not quite gone. And yet, the thought lingers, refusing to leave you.
-> next.
taglist: @starglitterz @kazumist @naraven @cozyunderworld @pinksaiyans @pearlm00n @your-sleeparalysisdem0n @francisnyx @qwnelisa @chessitune @leafythat @cursedneuvillette @hanakokunzz @nellqzz @ladymothbeth @chokifandom @yourfavouritecitizen @somniosu (send an ask or comment to be added!)
#❅ — works !#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x gn reader#hsr x reader#anaxa x reader#hsr anaxa#hsr anaxagoras#anaxagoras x reader#guys a/n 2#if you guys have any suggestions for a playlist for this series pleeeeasseeed drop it in the comments <3#i have 7 songs so far but unfortunately my taste is too corrupt for this series :sob: ANY recs i will take them all HAHA (desperate)#if something isnt linked right pls lmk !!
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Linktober Day 1: Mirror
I think I made this pretty okay- not my best work but not the worst either :'D
Gonna do Linktober with my boys!! @linked-rails for the full au :3c
#is this how I debut my fsa link?#yes#yes it is.#lira four#lira shadow#linked rails#lira#eggdraws#fsa link#loz#fsa#four swords#four swords link#linktober#linktober 2024#links meet au#linkverse#zelda au
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Working on some ref sheets for Artfight! (And also just for myself lol-) Anyways have Wolf :3
#linked rails#lira#track&trace#lira wolf#linked rails wolf#tp link#twilight princess link#links meet au#zelda au#link meets au#link au#loz au
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THE YAOI HEIRARCHY
First off, we got the King Yaois
What are the King Yaois? (Tw: this definition it's entirely made on the spot so don't take it too seriously)
The black coded character in a black and white coded doomed yaoi pair that get's enough traction to get associated with other black coded characters from a black and white coded doomed yaoi pair whose fandom's usually overlap


King Yaoi I: Yoo Joong-Hyuk (Omniscent Reader's Viewpoint)
King Yaoi ll: Cheng XiaoShi (Link Click)


King Yaoi III: Ivan (Alien Stage)
King Yaoi IV: Wreak (To Be Hero X)
Then we got the Yaoi Jesus spot

This spot it's usually taken by Aoba Saragaki (DRAMAtical Murder), but other than him there are other two runner ups


Kaworu Nagisa (Neon Genesis Evangelion)
Sunday (Honkai: Star Rail)
Tbh I call them the Holy Trinity atp
Alright that's all I've gathered, feel free to either correct me or make additions to this heirarchy
PS: I would also like to nominate Ryo Asuka (Devilman) for the Yaoi Satan spot if he still hasn't it
#I'm only part of 3 of these fandoms#someone should do this for the yuri side#the only thing ik there is that Madoka is Yuri Jesus#omniscient reader's viewpoint#orv#yoo joonghyuk#shi guang dai li ren#link click#cheng xiaoshi#alien stage#alnst#alnst ivan#ivan alnst#tbhx#tbhx wreck#wreak#to be hero x#aoba seragaki#aoba dmmd#dmmd aoba#dramatical murder#dmmd#kaworu nagisa#nagisa kaworu#neon genesis evangelion#nge#sunday#sunday hsr#honkai star rail
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x
#yeah i’ll just make anything basically. mmd credit in the link#hsr#phaidei#phainon#mydei#honkai star rail#mydeimos#my sillies
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99% of doomed lovers quit before they break out of the narrative. keep coming back for his gay ass.
#ciaran rambling on#link click#.... also#honkai star rail#twewy#omniscient reader's viewpoint#yippeeeee first orv tag
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