ice glaze


anonymous asked:

Hello and sorry for bothering you. But I need your help and I don't know who else I can ask. Viktor's line in the church " I'll say something you won't even have to think about. " I feel like the original Victor's phrase was different. Thank you for your answer!

And you’d be right!! It was indeed different from the subtitles.
The original Japanese was


(nanimo kangaenakute ii omajinai)

To explain this phrase best, it’s better to split up the sentence in to two parts

「何も考えなくていい」(nanimo kangaenakute ii) - “it’s okay to not think about anything”


「お呪い」(omajinai) - “good luck charm”

These types of relative clauses are everywhere in Japanese, in which the descriptor is placed before the noun. So in this case, we have a good luck charm, and the effect of this good luck charm is to allow Yuuri to not think about anything.

Essentially what Victor says is that he’s presenting to Yuuri a good luck charm that will allow Yuuri to not think about anything while skating tomorrow. Then he presents the ring.

But the ring is just a symbol of a ‘good luck charm’ in a way. It’s what the ring stands for, what it means, that is the true ‘good luck charm’.

Previously, Victor commented that Yuuri tends to fail jumps whenever he’s thinking about something, his failed jumps were pretty much the only thing holding him back from getting points in competitions since his presentation was good enough to get him through to the GFP last year, so Victor gives him a good luck charm that will allow him to not think about anything and attain as high a score as he can with his current program.

So how does a ring do that?

Well, it’s now pretty canonly concrete that Yuuri worries a lot about Victor; how he’s causing him trouble, how he’ll fail Victor’s expectations, how he might leave. And so to present him with a ring, is to present to Yuuri something physical that binds them together spiritually, emotionally, and physically. It’s something that symbolises Victor’s total acceptance of Yuuri. Thus, it’s eliminating a majority of Yuuri’s worries concerning skating, allowing him to not flub his jumps, and finally, giving him his best chance at getting gold.

Heart Cinnamon Rolls

Yields 5 rolls

The things you’ll need

  • Pillsbury Grands cinnamon rolls
  • White glaze icing
  • Heart sprinkles
  • 8 inch round cake pan
  • 8 inch round parchments
  • Decorating bag fitted with a #6 tip
  • Baking spray
  • Knife and cutting board
  • Parchment paper

Let’s get started!

  1. Preheat oven to 350ºF.
  2. Remove cinnamon rolls from canister. Unravel each roll and shape strips into hearts. Arrange in a greased and lined cake pan. The tips of the heart should point towards the center.
  3. Bake for 15 to 17 minutes. Allow to cool in the pan for a few minutes and then transfer to a cutting board to cut out individual cinnamon rolls.
  4. Scoop glaze icing into piping bag and drizzle on top of cinnamon hearts. While the icing is still wet, place sprinkles on top.
  5. TaDa! Here are some sweet hearts for your sweetheart!

The pale pink light of dawn sparkled on branch and leaf and stone. Every blade of grass was carved from emerald, every drip of water turned to diamond. Flowers and mushrooms alike wore coats of glass. Even the mud puddles had a bright brown sheen. Through the shimmering greenery, the black tents of his brothers were encased in a fine glaze of ice. ||| A Clash of Kings - Jon III

scarlett is 20 months now she is soo… doughy like she just looks like a chubby ice glazed donut… must be that taurus rising and all that 2nd house (sun, mercury, mars)… i just wanna eat herrrr :p

“Put yourself in her shoes,”
they said, their honeyed words sticky and cloying.
“Have some empathy.” I stay quiet, lips sewn shut.
I know I am not supposed to understand figures of speech or empathy.
That these things are part of a dinner party I’m not invited
to with inside jokes I could never understand.
But I know what they mean: that some pairs of shoes
are more valuable and worthy of walking in than others.
While they lace up the tennis shoes of murderers
I mourn the victims, the people who will never live
to see themselves valued. I slip on their shoes, the seams
of my socks itchy on my ankles. I see myself in them.

I see myself pitched off a bridge, I feel the fluid and betrayal
weighing down my lungs. I feel my mother twist the knife,
peel me open and dissect me.
I feel the cold winter air turning my skin mottled,
an ice glazed granite
the sound of a gunshot, the words, “Good girl”
the scribble of a suicide note justifying my death
my own scream.
I feel the hands striking my cheeks,
“Why are you so stupid?”
Hands wrapped around my neck so tightly
I start to see black butterflies.

They say I don’t feel empathy.
That I’m not capable of understanding, that the true victims
of autism are the family members. But if anything,
I feel too much empathy for the beautiful people with rainbow
brains and colorful hearts, who finger-painted
and laughed and flapped their hands
and repeated words for hours like a prayer.
These are my people, and they are being killed
because people believe they are already dead.

They say I don’t feel,
but that’s not true.
I watch as they hand out feather-light
sentences to assailants and murderers,
simply because my people are too exhausting.
I watch as you callously discard pairs shoes,
pollute the crime scene, incriminate
the victim, all because they believe
that laces are more worthy than Velcro.
It isn’t me who doesn’t understand the situation.
It’s you.

—  orangememesicle, for Autistics Speaking Day 2015