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#Fabled Hades
sarahg-fanarts99 · 7 months
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A drawing I made of Samara and Malik with three Hello Kitty's characters cosplaying as the Egyptian Gods. Based on the merchandise of both franchises.
While Hades enjoys his burger.
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And it's obvious that Malik is not happy to see what they did to his ace card, Winged Dragon of Ra.
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53v3nfrn5 · 4 months
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The Enchanted World: ‘Fabled Lands’, Chapter 2: ‘Daring the Dark’ (1986) artwork: Willi Glasauer
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yesiplaygamez · 5 months
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when you hate that one npc, but you also need them.
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spid3r-trans · 10 months
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i love u, fishing in video games
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Omg Hades II is available for early access this is not a drill
*yells*
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i-am-a-fish · 4 months
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I'm going to list off some random videogames and media that I love because I don't usually post about my interests on here, these are just some of the things I could come up with off the top of my head
viddy games:
splatoon, little big planet, tamodachi life, pokemon showdown, snail simulator, hades, plants vs zombies, bug fables, kirby air ride, danganronpa, cyber hook
shows:
one piece, avatar the last airbender, doro he doro, dungeon meshi, the dragon prince, full metal alchemist, mob psycho 100, gravity falls, she-ra and the princesses of power
other hobbies:
boardgame design, lesbianism, cooking breakfast sandwiches, console emulation, swimming, streaming, looking at/ holding bugs, yearning, dungeons & dragons
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upsidedownwithsteve · 7 months
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A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.6K]
THE TIMELINE
“Love is born into every human being; it calls back the halves of our original nature together; it tries to make one out of two and heal the wound of human nature. Each of us, then, is a ‘matching half’ of a human whole…and each of us is always seeking the half that matches him.”
- Aristophanes, Plato’s Symposium.
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I. ATHENS, GREECE: 8TH CENTURY BC
The gods were angry.
Or so you’d heard. It started with whispers. Murmurs from the town and its people. Rumours spread across Athens the same way the breeze did at the start of summer. They said the gods were angry, furious.
How could the mortals be so silly? How could they possibly rile their gods like this? Again?
Stupid humans, foolish humans.
You didn’t understand.
But then one morning before the sun rose, you awoke to a reddened sky and a heavy wind, a storm brewing over the horizon, a dark mass you could see above the sea from your bedroom window. Preachers took to the streets then, standing on the cobbles with bells ringing above their heads, warning every person listening about the end of times. It had happened before, they said, their faces masks of horror. It was happening again.
The gardens all died, grass turning black, crops to dust, life fleeing from the ocean as Poseidon uprooted the seafloor, waves crashing against the cliff's edge. Athens turned to decay, colour slipping from the world as the gods ruled over it from the skies and sea. A punishment fit for the crime, the elders said, telling stories at the marketplace, of how their own grandparents had once been born together, joined at the heart, four arms and four legs.
One soul.
They said Zeus came from Olympus, that he’d crashed down to earth riding a bolt of lightning and he ripped the mortals apart. They said it was a bloodshed, rivers of red running through the plazas, wells turning thick like tar.
Zeus cursed everyone, you heard. Your kind had been getting too prideful, too full of ego and greed and want for more. The gods feared an uprising, they sat on their thrones and they resented to power you all craved.
So they did something about it.
With their wounds left to heal on their own over months and years, each half of a mortal was thrown to different corners of the earth, destined to spend the rest of their lives searching for the other half of their soul.
It seemed nothing more than a fable, a horror story for children, something you would never have believed. Soulmates? Someone made just for you? An impossible notion, you were sure you would have once thought, if you hadn’t already met yours.
He was at the forge when the first bolt of lightning hit the ground.
The concrete split and temples on the cliff sides shook, the tiles on each home shattering as they fell. You heard people yelling from your garden as the ground shuddered and an eerie quiet followed. A hollow silence, a calm before a storm and then something else hit the ground too.
Bigger, heavier, more powerful.
You dropped your basket and ran.
Still barefoot, you left the sodden clothes on the grass and fled, passing the sanctuary of your home, the temples beyond the rivers, the forests that came before the sea. You ran to the plaza, through the marketplace that was buzzing with fear, shoulders burning with pain as you slammed your way past everyone who ran against you. You were battling a tidal wave of townsfolk, each one crying and yelling.
You heard shouts of Titans! Furies!
People yelled out names they once didn’t dare whisper, each word said like a curse. Cronus, Crius, Oceanus, Thea. Standing on the marble steps of the Parthenon, a preacher in guided robes had blood running down the side of his face, a cut on his head matting his greying hair. He was ashen, clutching at his scribes and shouting at the frenzied crowd below.
“Tartarus has risen!” He yelled, “the gates of Hades have opened and we, foolish mortals, shall pay for our sins! The father of gods shall come for us, he shall feast upon thy flesh and bone and—”
The preacher's harrowing words were cut off abruptly as another crack in the earth opened up. The shining marble split and the man fell through, the world itself swallowing him whole. You didn’t have time to react more than a strangled cry coming from somewhere deep in your chest. You clasped your hand to your mouth, fearing you’d lose your breakfast, that you’d become too dizzy to keep moving.
The ocean was growing closer, too tall waves and swirling, dark pools buried into its depths. Ships were being sucked under, their white sails the last thing you saw before they were swallowed by Poseidon’s fury. A golden chariot raced down from the sky, sparks flying in the air as it landed on the roof of the Acropolis. More marble shattered and Ares, the god of war, had landed on earth to do his duty.
By the time you reached the forge, the plaza was running red, just like the elders had said it would. The bronzed statue of Hephaestus that guarded the entrance to the blacksmiths had come to life, the god himself taking its form as he spewed fire across the village, molten heat and steel dripping from his large hands, coal crumbling at his feet. The air smelled like ash, like fire and death.
As you searched for him - your other half - eyes wide and frantic, your chest heaving, Hades stood in the shadows across the cobbled road. Inky black dripped from him, from his robes, his skin, his mouth. He looked ghoulish until he stepped into what was left of the daylight, a trick of the sun turning his gaunt face handsome. He grinned at you, each tooth pointed and sharp and he held out a hand. A pomegranate was placed in his palm, the fruit cracked open and the ruby seeds spilling out of it like tiny jewels. He beckoned you, a voice in your head whispering, silky, sultry, full of promises that couldn’t be real.
Surely eternal damnation was better than a fate like this?
You moved, your body not your own, one foot in front of the other, your hand outstretched. Images flashed through your head, dark swirls of three headed dogs, rivers made of souls and gates of bones. But when they opened, there was a garden, more beautiful than the ones in Athens, with their marble pillars and fountains that led into ponds. In this garden, temples stood gleaming and tall, with maidens dancing amongst rose bushes, naked and with hair to their waists. They waved to you, more scarlet coloured fruit held in their hands and they were laughing, singing, pulling you closer--
Another bolt of lightning - bigger and louder and brighter than before - hit the ground and the maidens disappeared. The god of the underworld grinned once more before he stepped back into the shadows and turned to smoke, melting into the bloodied ground.
Zeus had landed in Athens.
And you couldn’t find Steve.
Steve Harrington, son of the town’s head blacksmith, was tending to the forge when the first god came to earth. He’d left you in bed, the threadbare sheets around you still warm, your skin littered with his leftover kisses, marks from his greedy fingers the night before. The sky had been scarlet when he walked across the plaza and in the far distance, a plume of smoke rose from what seemed like the ocean. The Methana volcano was simmering, waiting, spewing fumes of gas and dust.
A warning.
The forge cracked when Zeus arrived, the bricks splitting along with the forge floor, cobbles and bricks turning to rubble under the men’s feet. Fire and coal tumbled from the cast iron cages, half made swords of burning steel falling at their feet. The sky above rumbled, the windows shattering as bolts of lightning hit the land and people screamed, torturous sounds that made Steve run blindly out into the plaza.
Some were kneeling, their heads bent and their palms open to the sky, to the gods. A sacrifice that was ignored. Others ran, diving into buildings that immediately fell on top of them and Steve watched in horror as people dropped before him, falling like sacks, crumpled to the ground as they clutched their chests in agony. They called out their lovers' names, their voices hoarse, pleading, desperate and all at once, a crowd surged behind Steve, carrying him with them, his shoulders burning at the momentum.
He had to find you.
The market was in ruins, once fresh vegetables and fruits now smashed into the concrete, the smell of baked bread hidden under burning embers. Panicked horses fled their owners and carts, almost knocking Steve to the ground as they tried to escape the carnage. The sea level was rising, the shadows of boat sails towering over marble buildings, the hulls of ships teetering closer to pillars that once held the statues of the gods now seeking revenge. Steve had been raised to honour them, to covet them, to fear them.
And he’d never felt as scared as he did when he spotted you across the square, eyes wide and not yet finding his, your gaze too trained on the statue of Aphrodite that was crashing down too close to you. The white marble hit the floor and shattered, sending clouds of dust and dirt into the already smoke filled air and you disappeared from Steve’s sight once more.
Panic flooded him, a fear like no other and suddenly the gods that reigned from the seas and skies didn’t seem as terrifying anymore.
He yelled your name, choking on the fumes from the fires that had started to rage all around, Hephaestus riding a cloud of black coals and burning embers as he let fire pour from his palms and open mouth, a gaping maw of molten lava that dripped from and melted everything and everyone it touched. Steve flung himself to the ground to avoid the flames, crawling desperately forward before he caught himself and began to run again, hissing as the gaps in his shoes filled with shards of broken stone. Red poured from the soles of his feet but he didn’t think anything could hurt as much as the thought of losing you.
Again, he screamed for you, the letters of your name hitching in his throat, scratching like glass and more people tore in front of his path, running from the destruction. Bodies fell before him, couples forever trapped in a lovers embrace, their faces hidden in each other's chests. They became one again, four arms, four legs, two faces.
Joined at a heart that was no longer beating.
Steve didn’t want to die without you.
He found you in the rubble as Zeus moved closer, a grey and white shadow of a man, a huge hulking figure that didn’t seem real. He didn’t look like his marble castings, the statues that were gilded with gold leaf. He wore no olive laurel on his head, he bore no kind smile nor gentle eyes. Instead he held bolts of lightning in his hands like swords, like spears, throwing them at his victims with cruel precision.
A storm followed him, bigger than anything Steve had ever seen before. It turned the red clouds above the god purple and black, an inky slurry of darkness and electricity crackled between spaces. The air buzzed and Steve’s skin prickled, the static making his ripped and bloodied shirt cling to his damp chest.
Poseidon had finally shown himself, emerging from the waves, his skin a sickly green, his eyes darker than the deepest depths of the sea he came from. He held a triton, seaweed hanging from its points, his body scarred and battered from the horrors he created in the oceans. He seemed too big, a giant, an almost titan and rain poured from Zeus’ purple clouds as he advanced onto Athens.
Steve saw your arm, a limp hand from beneath a pile of stone and he cried as he lifted each piece of what was once Aphrodite. The marble face of the goddess of love smiled warmly at him and it felt mocking, it felt like an arrow to the chest.
You were still alive, barely awake, nose dripping blood and a slice across your forehead that narrowly missed your eye. You cried when Steve pulled you free, his strong arms wrapped around your torso and you clung to him, barely daring to look at the horrors that surrounded you. He smelled like smoke and fire and the metal sting of blood, but under it all, there was something like home that still lay on his skin.
He seemed frantic, calling your name over and over until you nodded and said his back, like it was only upon hearing your voice that he believed you were alive. Steve sat amongst the debris of Aphrodite and held you, your weak frame pulled into his lap and he cradled you there, your head on his shoulder and your arms around his neck.
You weren’t sure what you coveted more fiercely, the young man or your last breath.
A shadow lingered nearby, listening to the soft murmurs you shared the pretty lies you both needed to hear as you told each other it would be okay. Hades stood close, statuesque and with black plumes at the bottom of his dark robes, a midnight blue cast over his skin. He looked like he’d never been close to looking human. He held a timepiece in one hand, a golden thing that ticked too loudly and he grinned at you and Steve, watching, waiting as two creatures by his feet held scrolls of names. They were made od nothing kind, created from bone and other people’s spines, their too long tails and forked tongues that flickered over the skin of the dead as they sent their souls below.
Steve knew he’d fight a god before he let them take you.
But he didn’t get such the luxury of battling for his lover. Zeus moved closer still, rain pouring harder, electricity making his hair stand on end. The father of gods himself stood tall before you both, his eyes as white as his long hair and beard. Nothing about him softened as he gazed down at you both intertwined, blood from each other staining your lover's skin.
Steve pulled you closer, his hand cupping the nape of your neck as he pushed your face to his throat, shielding you, protecting you. You clung to him tighter, hands fisting in the rags of his old shirt and you wondered if you’d ever get to see him again. If this life was it, if this was all you were allowed.
The two of you in the ruins of Athens, the goddess of love shattered at your feet. Four legs, four arms, two faces, one soul. Connected by a heart that seemed weaker than ever in the presence of something cruel.
Silence came before the crack, the world stilling, Athens at peace. You found solace in Steve, your nose pressed to his neck as you held onto him, praying for something painless. You pushed two kisses to his skin then, the side of his throat that seemed to make your lips fizz and Steve sucked in a breath, his lips at your temple, cherishing the last touch he got of you.
“I love you,” Steve whispered and his voice cracked on each word. Tears from his eyes stream the dirt on his face, running rivers down your cheek until they mixed with your own. “I’ll find you again. In the next life, and the next again. I prom—”
A bolt of lightning, so hot it felt frozen, struck the breath of space between your chests. Something inside of you cracked then, ribs splintering as the weapon found your heart and you couldn’t feel Steve’s arms around you anymore.
You couldn’t feel anything.
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the-artificem · 4 months
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@foibles-fables mentioned something about rangshi x hades 🤗
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sarahg-fanarts99 · 8 months
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Fakes Screenshot I made of my OC, Samara Yumeko in Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Links.
Thanks to my friend on Facebook for the template. 😊😄
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siderealcity · 1 month
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More Dawntrail narrative thoughts, this time about the Golden City. Spoilers below.
There are several layers to the Golden City as a plot device in Dawntrail, and I think they're interesting enough to just unpack them all and look at them.
The first time we hear the term, it's from Hades in Endwalker:
"Tell me, have you been to the ruins beneath the waters of the Bounty? Or the treasure islands beyond the frozen waters of Blindfrost, in Othard's north? The fabled golden cities of the New World? The sacred sites of the forgotten people of the south sea isles?"
It's telling that he groups that with the sacred sites of the south sea isles. The plot later tells us that they are explicitly connected to one another, but why does it call them "citiies," plural? Where's the other one, Hades?
(Also, we haven't yet been to the treasure islands in the north, but every one of those locations in the quote above has to do with cross-rift travel. Every. One. So, that may be something we see again later.)
But apart from their lore and plot significance (and potential foreshadowing), the Golden City is, from the first time we hear of it, a lure. Bait, dangled before an explorer, enticing them to go onward. It is, for lack of a better word, a promise of things to come. In the specific case in Endwalker, it's a promise that your story isn't over yet, there's still more to come. Even though you are, at that moment, standing in front of the amassed dead of countless worlds. Death is not the end, it's the beginning of new life.
The second time we hear the term, it's from Wuk Lamat. Who is, again, using it to entice us to join her. We don't know at that point that her actual title is, in fact, Promise. And that is significant.
It is, likewise, the bait for Krile's involvement in the story. The thing she knew her grandfather had been asked to study, the secret he'd kept out of the records of the Students, the promise of a connection. To the past, to someone she loved who is now gone.
But then there's the Rite of Succession. And it changes the meaning of the plot device entirely.
The Rite is structured to follow the Tulliyolal saga--the journey Gulool Ja Ja undertook, over the course of who knows how many years, to unify the peoples of Tural into a single nation. A journey which notably has nothing to do with the Golden City. To the Turali, it's a fairy tale. It is so detached from the story of Gulool Ja Ja that Koana immediately has to ask if the city being the final goal means his father actually has some proof it exists.
The Rite itself, as Gulool Ja Ja later admits to us, is meant to be instructional for his children. They are not meant to simply find and cross the finish line, they're supposed to be learning how to be the rulers of Tural.
As we complete feats in the rite, we are awarded stories of the Golden City by each of the races in Yok Tural. And they all follow a significant pattern: The Golden City was the literal dream of the Yok Huy. The conquerers of every single people in southern Tural. The stories we are given are the stories shared by colonized people of their oppressors.
The conquest of Yok Tural is mentioned repeatedly. Every group we meet was displaced and enslaved by the giants during their empire, and the ultimate goal of that empire was to find the Golden City--a paradise of eternal life without pain or suffering. It is at this point that the Golden City becomes a warning. It is the promise of self-destruction. Searching for it ultimately toppled the Yok Huy empire and changed the giants forever. It displaced and disrupted numerous cultures and started centuries of war.
It is, ultimately, the reason why Gulool Ja Ja ever had to play the role of peacemaker and unifier in the first place. The divide-and-conquer tactics employed by the Yok Huy created every problem he set out to solve.
Why did he choose to make it the final goal of the Rite of Succession? A place he famously did not find before becoming Dawnservant? Was it, perhaps, as a lesson to his children, his Promises? Especially his son Zoraal Ja who had dreams of empire?
But interestingly, the Golden City was also set forth as the specific goal for Erenville to find by his mother. Cahciua wasn't present in the flashbacks to Galuf and Gulool Ja Ja and Kettenram viewing the gate, but we know that she met them afterward, and had Erenville with her. Was she with them the first time they'd found the gate? I have to think she was. The only people who seem to have known for sure about it, among Gulool Ja Ja's circle of friends and allies, were the explorers. The ones who would have been interested in searching for it purely for the joy of discovery.
I think it's safe to say that for Cahciua, at least at the time that she gives her son his quest, the Golden City is the Almost Impossible Dream. One that can, in fact, be found, but crucially, not alone. The Yok Huy, who searched for it for generations, and crushed everyone around them trying to get inside, had it in their possession all along. But they never even saw the gate. It took Gulool Ja Ja, who had friends to help him, who actually discovered the way in. It is the promise of discovery through love and fellowship, for her only son who was withdrawn and antisocial.
And then we actually find it.
It is not an accident that the way to reach the Golden City is through a cenotaph of lost hope. We literally pass through waters littered with the bodies of children who were never born--promises never fulfilled--to get to its gate.
And it's eating the Yok Huy ruin. The electrope spreads out from the gate like an infection, over-writing the Yok Huy stonework, erasing their culture.
And it's still... oddly beautiful? But in the way a poisonous mushroom is beautiful.
And it's closed. We don't go through it at this point, though we walk right up to the seal on the doorway. Because we're alive.
We're told by Erenville that many people have sought the Golden City, never to return. And of course they didn't.
Because this is the gateway to death.
Zoraal Ja is the first person we actually see go through it. The False Promise. Just to reinforce that this is, in fact, Zoraal Ja's role, Sareel Ja leads him to the gate and hands him the key with a speech that is wholly constructed of the same false platitudes about Zoraal Ja's magical birthright that have driven Zoraal Ja to be this self-destructive and miserable in the first place. And we can see how much the speech upsets Zoraal Ja, who just lost the contest to both his siblings. He knows every word of his inherent greatness and destiny is a lie. Sareel Ja hands him the key, and he grips it like it might be a bludgeon without even looking at it. And the second time Sareel Ja makes a "Resilient Son" speech, Zoraal Ja literally stabs him in the back.
Having skipped all the lessons and warnings about the danger of pursuing death and destruction, Zoraal Ja walks through its front door.
And I don't think it's accidental that the dome appears in Xak Tural, even though the gate itself is located in Yak T'el, far to the south. Xak Tural is the land that defeated the Yok Huy advance without a single battle. The unconquerable land. This is the part of Tulliyolal that Gulool Ja Ja didn't have to fix because it was never broken in the first place. They very notably do not live in the segregated societies the people of the south do, because nobody imposed that on them. The towns we see are a mix of races living together, and probably served as the inspiration for Gulool Ja Ja to build Tulliyolal in the first place, differing people pursuing communal and sometimes conflicting interests together. These are the people Zoraal Ja has been rambling about nonsensically, "teaching the value of peace by the misery of war." The ones who don't need Tulliyolal, but merely want to be part of it.
He can make his mark here because his father never did.
When the dome appears over Yyasulani, we, the players, know it's Zoraal Ja's passage through the gate that caused it, but the characters don't learn this until after he's brutally slaughtered people. We players see the sequence of events as: Zoraal Ja, the Promise of Death, walks into the land of death and carries it out with him. But the characters are instead following the trail of death back to the land of the dead. We don't enter Alexandria through the Golden City. Not at first. We enter it through a swathe of destruction and desolation and a storm that never ends. That's our first view of it. The promise of ruin. We do not see the paradise that led the Yok Huy to their doom until after we know that Sphene, like the Yok Huy, is willing to lay waste to the lives around her to have her Golden City.
And then we have the vision.
I don't think it's an accident that the only people who have ever seen anything come out of the gate to the Golden City are the Warrior of Light, Gulool Ja Ja, Kettenram, Galuf, and indirectly Cahciua. All characters who inherently understand that life comes from death and the balance between them is vital. And it's symbolically significant that it's a child who is delivered from the land of the dead. Her parents don't come with her. The dead don't get to return, we get new life instead.
And then we go there. And it looks like Amaurot.
We call it Living Memory, but the resemblance to Amaurot, and the knowledge of what's actually here means that we immediately understand the lie. The Golden City, the cloud, the twelfth level of Everkeep, all of it has always been a false promise. Zoraal Ja, the False Promise, walked into the land of False Promises and became its king.
And Sphene, the Queen of False Promises, has always had the impossible task of keeping the dead alive.
As we make our way through Living Memory, it's notable that what we actually do is remove the beautiful, golden veneer from the land of the dead. The city is still there when we're done with it. We walk back outside through its gate. We do not have the power to remove death any more than we could destroy despair. But we take the lie out of it, we free the stolen life force to become life again. It's now just dead. No more promises of paradise or ruin to fulfill.
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worldoshaking · 9 months
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There’s something uniquely haunting about the words ‘one brings shadow, one brings light’ and how many different things they mean over the course of the story. 
At the start of A Realm Reborn, the hero takes on the name of the Warrior of Light, and nothing could be more fitting. They are the champion of justice, someone who fights to bring peace to a war-torn, despairing world. It is a symbolism that resonates naturally and easily with the audience: the Warrior of Light lifts the shadow of the Empire, and lets people look forward to new beginnings, turn to a new dawn with the coming of the Astral Era. (As we eventually learn from Moren, the name was originally born of that symbolism: from people finding hope in their heroes, and giving them a name expressive of that hope.)
And then we meet the Warriors of Darkness: at first glance, they are obvious villains, seeking to undo the Warrior of Light’s work and drown the Source in darkness and fear. Their name evokes skullduggery and mystique, and it is a haunting inversion of the Warrior of Light’s, suggesting that they are bound to be our foes. 
And then we learn the truth of their origins: they were Warriors of Light, just like us, and their path, so like ours, brought ruin upon their world. We learn, for the first time, that the Light is a force to be reckoned with and feared, and that Light and Dark are not so different after all. 
When we finally get to the First, the inversion comes full circle. We meet Ardbert as the Warrior of Light, and our WoL is now the fabled Warrior of Darkness: the bringer of night and reprieve to a world that has known no rest from fear and striving. The term ’Warrior of Light’ is no longer a symbol of adulation, but one of reprobation and reproach. 
The duality of shadow and light is also exemplified by Emet-Selch and the Crystal Exarch. The Exarch turns to the future with hope, while Emet-Selch lives in the past, with the shades of memory. The Exarch seeks to protect Hydaelyn’s will, and avert the return of Zodiark. Emet-Selch slinks and prowls on the margins of history, weaving malign and intricate plots, sowing discord and fear and doubt. The Exarch stands at the forefront of history, facing down corruption and chaos, making his city a bastion of resistance and rallying everyone beneath the cause of hope. Emet-Selch represents the shadow of conquest and imperialism over the land; the Exarch has built a city of kindness, fellowship and egalitarianism.
And yet, even here, the symbolism is inverted, for the hope the Exarch brings is in the shape of the gentle night, while Emet-Selch seeks to drown the world in searing light. In the bright open spaces of the Crystarium, it is only the Exarch who walks in shadow. He deals in secrets, hiding his plans and his face and his name, while Emet-Selch seeks to understand, and bestows terrible knowledge. The light of the Exarch’s plan is perfect and pitiless, and it is up to Emet-Selch’s prowlings and plottings to save him, gun in villainous hand. 
And the most fundamental form of the inversion is learning that Emet-Selch is, in a way, fighting for the same thing as the Warrior of Light is: he is fighting to save his world and his people, and to him we are the villains. 
The light of the Warriors’ hope and belief breaks through the miasma of Hades’ terror and grief. And at the end, Emet-Selch stands there, ragged light spilling out of the hole in his body, and smiles, in a final gesture of acknowledgement. He dissolves into a shower of gentle light, spilling over the Warrior of Light like a benediction. 
Everything is inverted in the First: people glory in the name of sinners, shudder at forgiveness, and celebrate the night. The sin eaters are bright and beautiful and gentle, and they bring a terrible, merciless forgiveness: a forgiveness that tears you apart from the inside; a forgiveness that blankets the world in silence and inexorable light. 
The first time we hear the iconic line ’one brings shadow, one brings light’ is in the scene where the Warriors of Light and Darkness merge into one—the Warrior of Light helping to contain the light raging within the Warrior of Darkness, their souls embracing in understanding and warmth. It is a moment of glorious illumination: of the twin Warriors understanding their connection, and of Ardbert seeing his purpose, the clear resonant notes of the theme song ringing out in glorious triumph. But it is also a moment of gentleness and reprieve. The light is no longer spilling out of the Warrior of Light’s wounded soul; Ardbert is there, providing them with sanctuary, with gentle shade. The Warrior of Light does not have to be fight their battle alone and unflinching. They do not have to be perfect any more, for there is someone to watch their back. 
They are truly two-toned echoes tumbling through time: Ardbert retraced the Warrior of Light’s path on the First, and now they have retraced his.
The symbolism of light and dark is most starkly exemplified by Hydaelyn and Zodiark—Zodiark as the will of the star back to the past, to the splendour and sorrow and hubris of Amaurot; Hydaelyn as the will of the star towards light and growth and change. But now it is Hydaelyn who reigns, and defends herself against Zodiark’s incursion. She is no longer the disruptor, but the preserver of the status quo, of the lives that already exist. On the First, Light brings stasis and silence and emptiness. 
We revisit this symbolism with Elidibus in The Seat of Symbolism: the heart of Zodiark, taking on the person of the Warrior of Light, and fighting off Hydaelyn’s champion, who bears the mantle of a Warrior of Darkness. Elidibus is lost in grief and darkness and doubt; he fears loss, and he does not remember. He must fight to save his doomed cause, though he does not know why. The Crystal Exarch and the Warrior of Darkness bring him light, in the shape of remembering, and of absolution. Now he remembers the comrades he fought for, and the love that drove him; he does not have to struggle on in the darkness any more. 
In the Eden storyline, the symbolism of shadow and light is evoked by Ryne and Gaia, the Oracles of Light and Darkness. Mitron seeks to keep Gaia in the shadows, taking her memories, wresting away her agency over her life. Ryne brings her light, in a symbolic sense, helping her discover who she is and what she wants, offering her warmth and comfort and hope. But it is simultaneously Gaia’s darkness that helps them break the light’s chokehold and return life and growth to the world. It is the hammer of her darkness that breaks through the light’s overwhelming hold on Ryne, quite literally saving both her and the world. And in the end, she makes the powerful choice not to know of her past in Eulmore, preferring to turn her gaze to the future. Her story encapsulates a central theme of the Eden arc: escaping stasis, embracing change and growth, making new memories. 
In Shadowbringers, right and wrong are not inexorable absolutes that we are to be judged by. Light and Darkness are two-toned echoes tumbling through time: humanity and the dragons, the Warriors of Light and Darkness, the champions of Zodiark and Hydaelyn. We should not be too quick to form our judgements, for nothing is as it seems, and there is hope to be found in the night. 
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yesiplaygamez · 1 day
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when you replay a game and meet the antagonist
Oc:
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Antagonist:
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rpgchoices · 6 months
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A thousand thanks to @lairofsentinel and @alcassin to help me complete these lists!
I am finally putting all the games I know with same sex/queer romances. Mainly, I am focusing on non-dating games, so games that are about a specific plot, adventures, other non-romantic events but that do have romance options in them.
Recommended: Are all games that I played personally and that have full romance. Informational: Games I know have romance, but I have not played personally or I could not confirm there was enough romantic content, or games where the romantic content is minimal (ex. Fable)
The lists are divided (linked) in:
RPGS (ex. BG3, DA:O, DO2 etc.), in total 39 games are currently added in this list
Visual novels that do not focus around dating (ex. Solstice, Loren etc.) but that still have romantic options/romantic storylines, currently 10 games in the list
Life simulators or walking simulators (ex. Stardew Valley), currently 7 games in the list
Others, currently 7 games in the list. Others are all games that did not end up in the above categories (ex. hack and slash games like Hades, puzzle games like Newfound courage)
There is also a category for dating sim visual novels. Here I will only add games I played and enjoyed given that it is usually pretty easy to find queer visual novels.
If there is a "what to expect" summary from this blog (a lot written by lairofsentinel!!) I also linked that!
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muxshwriting · 18 days
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talk
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Anakin Skywalker x reader (Orpheus and Eurydice retelling)
summary: the greatest love story ever told, that's simultaneously the most tragic || summary: angst, main character death, a lot of death || word count: 1773 || masterlist
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There have been many great love stories throughout the centuries, but none were more famous than the tragic tale of Anakin Skywalker and his wife, Y/N. And it begins with her death.
The urge began with a voice pounding at the back of his mind from the moment he had found your body. With every second it grew louder and louder until it was sounding off like a cannon in his brain.
"I'm going to the underworld."
It was a short and direct statement.
Obi-Wan's face paled. "You can't be serious Anakin! That's reckless and dangerous. You're writing your own death warrant."
"I'm rewriting hers." He argued.
"This is insanity!" Obi-Wan cried.
Anakin turned away. "Don't try and stop me. I'm going either way."
His mind was set, there was no change Obi-Wan would be able to find. He walked for days and nights, battling against those who tried to stop him on his journey. Nothing would stop him from getting to you.
The darkness didn’t bother Anakin as he walked, his eyes were set on a goal far ahead. All he could think was that you were alone and probably scared. He needed to get to you. No one had made this journey before, it had been fabled but never done. His journey seemed never ending but Anakin persevered, kept his head down, his plan secret.
On the nights when all hope seemed lost, when the thoughts echoed through his head and told him he couldn’t save you, he push on. It was your voice that rang through his head the mornings after those thoughts. It was a simple whisper, a murmur that you were walking with him and waiting for him on the other side, that you loved him and always would.
After a forever of walking, Anakin was standing outside the gates to the underworld. His journey here had been challenging but to travel through the underworld would be nigh on impossible.
His eyes were trained to the ground as he ignored the screams of damned souls and the cries of condemned asking for salvation. Every step meant he was closer to you, every step was a step closer to your freedom. His hood stayed drawn over his head and his robe was wrapped tightly around him. His lightsaber would be useless here and so he didn’t even bother having it easy to hand. Drawing a weapon in Hades’ domain wouldn’t be wise, anyone could tell you that.
The halls of the Underworld were enormous, rising above his head to the heavens with pits of fire. Hades sat upon his throne, watching the young Jedi enter his halls and slowly approach.
"Anakin Skywalker." He sneered slightly.
Anakin found the courage to meet the King’s eyes. He noticed the slight redness to them no one had discussed before. Beside him sat his wife, Persephone, on a throne of her own, looking like she owned the Underworld. Or course, she did but no one would say that in front of Hades. Even if they did, he would probably agree before ending their life.
"What brings the Chosen One to my domain?" Hades asked but Anakin knew better than to answer. "The Hero with No Fear has come to beg me for a soul, no?"
Persephone reached over and placed a gentle hand on her husband’s arm. He met her eyes and instantly softened.
"My wife has taken a liking to you boy. Perhaps you will entertain me for a while."
Anakin swallowed his fear and stood a little straighter, "I come here seeking my love, she was taken too soon, as many are. But she deserved a better life than what she was given. And I didn’t care if they called me crazy, if there was a chance I could get her that life, I was going to try." He took the chance to read their expressions for a moment. Persephone looked proud while Hades seemed perplexed. He continued, "When she’s with me, my world is complete, because it is her. I dread to think the kind of person I would be if she was not beside me and I fear for my future without her alive. My heart will darken and grow evil without her light to ward to away the shadows."
"Go on…"
"I walked here, my head to the ground, my name unspoken. I walked through the Underworld for the chance to see my wife and hold her in my arms once more. Perhaps she has passed on, choosing a greater life than what I could provide. But even if I came her in vain and I never leave again, I know I tried. I did not sit idly and ponder what might have been, I tried even if I fail. I have nothing to lose because she was everything and I lost her."
Hades was silent as two guards entered the hall and began to drag Anakin away. He let himself be taken, refusing to look away from the rulers face. He watched as Hades put his head in his hand. Persephone comforted him, reaching a hand for his face and her other for his. Then the doors slammed shut and Anakin was left with his thoughts once more.
He lost count of the number of steps he was dragged down, the people he passed. But then there was a cage surrounded by a dozen others all empty except one. A cage with you inside.
His strength returned and he had freed himself in an instant running to you with a shout of your name. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"
You couldn’t believe your eyes. Anakin, your Anakin was standing in front of you in the Underworld. He had journeyed to the Underworld for you.
"Yes! I’m alright, what are you doing here?"
"Bringing you home."
"Anakin-"
The cage between you two barely mattered as you pressed your lips to his between the bars. You hand intertwined with one another, holding on as tightly as you could. You had lost each other once, you would not lose each other again so easily.
"I love you." You confess. You’d said it to him many time before but never with such reverence as you did now. "I love you Anakin Skywalker."
Anakin’s eyes shined with tears, "It’s a long journey back, dangerous and cold."
"I’ll walk with you every step of the way." You promised. "You’ll never be alone."
Behind Anakin, Hades had arrived, his Queen only a few steps behind. Tentatively he turned to them, his hands still gripping yours. "Can we leave?"
In truth, Hades had no answer. He had come down the deepest dungeons to talk with you and Anakin and he had done so without an answer.
If he said no, he was just as heartless as the tales say he is. He would have no compassion for a man and his wife and the love they shared. He would be a hypocrite and his own wife would never quite forgive him. If he said yes, he would be doing something never done before. He had no moral code, no rules for the Underworld. He would be governing a lawless realm where people could come and go as they pleased.
He was damned either way.
The reality was this: Hades would let them go under the conditions he would set. Yes, he would be a forgiving and understanding King who knew the perfect punishment for any who demanded anything of him. Anakin Skywalker, the leader would walk ahead of his wife all the way out of the Underworld. And if he looked back to check she was following, she would be dragged back down into the depths.
She is out of sight, he is out of his mind. Anakin would foolishly agree, doing anything to have her back, not realising what he’s truly agreed to.
Since agreeing to Hades’ terms, you and Anakin hadn’t looked away from each other.
"Are you ready?" He asked you.
Silently, you nod. Anakin takes a steadying breath, his hands brushed against yours as you held one to your chest, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. He squeezed his eyes shut and span on his heels, beginning the long walk without you by his side.
The world went silent as your hand slipped from his and he felt utterly alone. He took the first step, trusting you would be right behind him.
As he walked, his footsteps echoed through the Underworld. But what tore his heart into pieces was the lack of your footsteps echoing behind him. He resisted the urge every single day to glance back at you. He prayed this was a part of Hades’ sick terms, that he would be unable to tell if you were behind him until you were out. A few days into the journey, he had started talking to you. It began as a quiet beg that you were still there, a promise he believed, a proclamation of his love. It had escalated when he received no response.
Behind him, you were never more than three steps behind. You heard every word that he said, unable to respond, unable to reach out. More often than not, you would be walking with tears streaming down your face, praying that Anakin would stay strong enough to get you both out.
You both ignored the pain in your feet and in your hearts as the end of the Underworld grew closer. When one morning, you felt the sun on your face for the first time in weeks as the exit was just ahead of you. Anakin’s pace remained steady but his steps seemed more sure, a quiet optimism. You let yourself smile, you were getting out.
The shuddering breath Anakin made as he stepped over the threshold made you almost weep with delight. But then he turns and your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach. You glance to the floor and your worst fears are confirmed.
"Y/N." He breathes your name in a way that makes his love clear as day.
"Anakin…" Your face has fallen as you look at him with nothing but despair.
You see him glance down at where you’re standing, just inside the threshold of the Underworld. He had turns too early. You hadn’t had time to get out. He hadn’t thought… he just needed to see you after so long.
Through your tears, you muster up a smile for him, "I love you."
You feel your soul being wrenched backwards as you tumble backwards, down, down, down back to your cage in Hades’ town. It was all for nothing.
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tagthescullion · 3 months
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Hi. I really like your headcanons I've read about the di Angelo family. I think you mentioned in one of your fanfics Maria's parents outliving her, so I was wondering if you think they knew she was dead? Do you think they looked for her or bianca and nico?
ohhhhhh man, di angelo family time :D
in my hcs, the di angelos were aristocracy, and, not shitting you, up to the early 20th century, some people truly believed aristocrats/nobility were put in the world to rule by God, so why not make that godS? I hc that some aristocratic families have a godly ancestor, in other words, making them legacies
now, whether they know that or not.. it's a fable some people believe and some don't. maria's parents being legacies is a thing I need in life (specially if it's one family descended from romans and the other from greeks), so I hc maria's parents thinking it's all bullshit until they meet hades and then they're like "y'know, this fellow seems strangely powerful, maybe it wasn't as mythical as we thought" (I think I wrote that into the last chapter of ancestors, that they do recognise hades, too tired to check, but self promo time yaay)
I do think they'd find out maria's dead. let's not forget her father was a diplomat in the US, meaning he had contacts there, we can guess they would've told him about the situation if hades himself didn't
the question is, what did hades tell them about the kids?? bc they were alive, yet hades could've lied.. frankly, I think hades told them the truth "I'll hide them bc my brother is trying to kill them". if he had lied, then the di angelos would've made an effort to get proof or the bodies, while if they were told the truth, it would hurt but it would mean the children were safe and had to be kept in hiding
that and I want nico to inherit everything, that way he can make his grandparents' giant ancestral house into a home for demigods in europe/the mediterranean who can't get to the US for whatever reason (bc let's face it, CHB only works if you're USian and/or rich)
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