#chapter 4 contains

[tookishcombeferre]

The next two chapters have been posted! Don't always expect two together, but these two felt like complimentary chapters. So, I posted them together.

Chapters 3 & 4 are mostly Roland II and Cedric centric chapters in that order.

Chapter 4 has TW at the top of the chapter. The post-traumatic stress warning runs throughout the chapter. I would also say, just as a note, post-traumatic stress is something that comes up with relative frequency throughout the story. The self-harm TW is a blink and you miss it moment that is only referenced in one line, I'd say about half way through the chapter. But, anyway, the plot thickens, and we get a little backstory from two different angles.

Also, if my author's notes sound like a nutcase wrote them, I'm recovered from Covid but in the post-viral hangover stage of recovered from Covid. Thank you vaccines. We would be nowhere without you. Anyhow, enjoy. Much Love,

Pip 💚💜

[seniorpollinationtechnician]

Ethan spent the next three hours in his cluttered office, surrounded by stacks of old files and a mess of digital archives on his computer. Eventually, ISAAC's voice broke the silence. "Ethan, I have located several encrypted documents closely related to your search history. Shall I bring them up?"

After a vocal confirmation, ISAAC remotely accessed Ethan's computer and began displaying a series of decrypted files with some title variation of 'Chrysalis_2023'. Project Chrysalis had been one of his most secretive assignments while working with the government where he had been tasked with engineering a containment and analysis system for biological entities. The government's vague description alluded to 'non-terrestrial biological entities', which Ethan naively interpreted as some advanced biological research.

The digital files were heavily redacted but offered enough information to remind him that he had physical evidence as well. He eventually found a folder containing detailed schematics alongside his own annotations on the nature of the project. One document in particular, an incident report, caught his eye.

Entry Date: 04/12/2023 Subject: NTBE X-23 Humanoid organism measuring 1.8 meters (6 ft.) in height. Bipedal locomotion. Epidermis is a pale yellow tone. Facial structure similar to that of a human being but with eight black eyes arranged in a symmetrical pattern. Indecipherable markings around the eyes. Subject arrived unconscious and has not regained consciousness throughout the observation period. Subject X-23 was transferred from the recovery unit into the primary containment chamber at 1100 hours. Upon entering the containment unit, the subject's vital signs surged. Subject X-23 abruptly regained consciousness and exhibited erratic behavior. Witnesses claimed to have seen something move within the subject's skin. Vocalizations consistent with an unknown language were recorded (see audio log 0134-B1). Linguistic analysis is ongoing. The subject shortly underwent a rapid biological transformation. Epidermal surfaces split open, extruding long, vine-like protrusions tipped with bioluminescent nodules. The cranial structure split open longitudinally, revealing a maw lined with razor-sharp teeth. At 1400 hours, Subject X-23 initiated a violent attack on the containment unit. The material composition used proved insufficient. A containment breach occurred at 1405 hours. Specimen X-23 lunged at Dr. ■■■■, inflicting a fatal laceration to the abdomen. Security personnel were authorized to terminate the threat. Subject X-23 was neutralized at 1410 hours. Residual specimens are being collected for further analysis. The containment unit is undergoing repairs and biohazard decontamination. Further research is on hold pending reevaluation of containment protocols.

[hotcat37]

Me alternating between writing a cute new wholesome Bojere AU and finishing up a scrapped scene from Promise I'll Be Kind where Bojan is brutally killed ☠☠

[deus-ex-mona]

how long will chapter 5 even be my g o s h

[owlafterhours]

\o/!!! at last i have time the coldest raven, extra lumpy edition since there are other bandages and patches under there at the moment

[northern-passage]

i got my laptop back from repairs today and decided to do a big "what have i been up to" post :-)

things have been kinda all over the place with me lately since march/april. i took a break from working on tnp & wrote one day hike (about 13k words if i remember correctly)

then i was working on faith, my neotwiny jam submission, which wasn't a lot but took a lot of reworking on my part with the word count limit and it was a fun challenge

i also at the same time was working on the first draft of a private project (a novel, i guess.... 😱) which i finished earlier this month and came in at around 100k~ and is now marinating in my files until i find the strength to start editing and redrafting.

this leads me to blood choke which is what i have been working on since, and takes place in the same world as my novel (and is similar in some ways and different in others) which i'm hoping to release the first 2 chapters of soon.

i did some little mini "games" also that i'm not sure will ever see the light of day hahahaha but i have another short kinetic story potentially for another jam that i think is sitting at around 2.5k right now.... i feel a bit self-conscious about it so not sure if i'll publish but it's a sort of companion piece to faith so! we'll see. the other one is almost 5k but it's not at all where i want it to be coding/UI wise so im not sure what im doing with that one, either....

anyways i know it's been quiet here, i've just been working on other projects, and also with all of the computer problems i was having (computer crashes/bluescreening and files getting corrupted) i wasn't working on tnp as much out of fear of potentially losing stuff, especially since my tnp files are Massive compared to my other work. however that has now (hopefully) been fixed with a new hard drive so fingies crossed 🤞

hope you all are having a nice pride month and thanks for sticking around o7

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Blood of the Hero Ch 12 (Link's parents play botw)

Summary: The Soul of the Hero will always be there to save Hyrule. But when Calamity Ganon is nearly victorious in killing him, it's those that bear the Blood of the Hero who will prevail. Ten years after the Great Calamity, the Shrine of Resurrection is damaged and Link's parents fight to save their son and Hyrule along with him.

AO3 link

To Kakariko - Familiar Faces

"Get her out of here. You can't win this fight. Not here, not like this. Go to Fort Hateno, Link. We'll rally the troops there and figure something out."  

The air was so filled with ash and smoke it practically choked him as Castle Town burned. The sound of distant guardian fire and people’s screams rang in his ears. His exhaustion was so prevalent he could sleep and never wake up right then and there. His heart was so broken he almost wished for death. But his determination was even stronger, his concern for Link and the princess paramount. Link’s worried expression cut into him far more than a guardian’s beam ever could. The boy’s eyes, filled with sorrow, glittered with something else at his words, though.

Abel was doing more than just giving an order, he was giving the boy hope. Link latched on to the words, his face growing stony with conviction. Abel pat his cheek lightly and gave what little bit of a smile that he could muster. "I'll meet you there, okay?"

His son watched him, his façade cracking a hair, his breath hitching for just a moment. Abel slid his hand behind his boy's head, pulling him close so their foreheads rested against each other, and they both closed their eyes for a moment. "Keep her safe. Do your duty, Link. Now, go."

T he moment was lost, and Link pulled away. He took a slow, deep, steadying breath, and then nodded. With renewed resolve, he turned quickly, rushing to Princess Zelda and grabbing her by the wrist, pulling her away from Abel, away from the castle, away from the city and the ruins and the disaster all around them. The princess followed helplessly, tears staining her cheeks as she turned back to look one last time at her home, her kingdom, before they vanished around a corner.

Abel awoke stiff and sore and disoriented. Images of Castle Town faded into the dust that was lazily floating in the sunlight. Everything was too soft and warm; it instantly made his insides squirm. It felt foreign and unsafe. Reaching forward, he found himself clawing at air where Link and Tilieth had been, and cold adrenaline shot through him like ice, making him nearly fall out of the bed in his haste to get up. His chest screamed in protest, and he doubled over, leaning on a small table for a second to catch his breath.

Kakariko. They made it to Kakariko. He’d nearly forgotten. But where was his family?

Abel quickly slid some boots on. Heading outside, he saw that the sun was fairly high in the sky, and his anxiety grew tenfold. How long had he been asleep? What had happened in that time?

“Captain Abel.”

Turning, Abel saw one of the Sheikah warriors from yesterday. Before he could get a word in, the warrior continued, “Your wife and the Champion are with Lady Impa in her residence. Would you like me to escort you?”

He didn’t need an escort. It was ten steps away from the inn. Abel shook his head, continuing on, all other courtesy forgotten. It was a somewhat chilly morning with the wind blowing, and it stung against his face. He hastily ran up the stairs and entered the abode.

Link was settled on a bunch of pillows on the floor, slumbering still. Tilieth sat at his head, hands tracing through his hair, gently brushing it while Lady Impa and someone unfamiliar knelt at his side facing toward the door.

Lady Impa glanced up, somber face pulling in surprise at hearing Abel’s entrance, and then she gave a tired smile. “Good morning, Captain. I hope you slept well.”

“What are you doing?” Abel asked.

“This is Kollin, our healer,” Lady Impa said, motioning to the man beside her. “I was speaking with your wife about the situation.”

Abel approached the group slowly, his heart finally slowing to a normal rate. Tilieth smiled up at him.

Staring down at Link, stripped nearly bare, let Abel look his wounds over as well. They didn’t seem much different than they had when they’d left the plateau, but somehow Link at least looked less pale. Also, the pressure wounds from his harness seemed a little better. Something had to be happening.

“His wounds are grievous indeed,” the healer commented as his eyes looked over the boy.

Princess Mipha could’ve healed him, his mind thought, and his heart tore a little at the words. The demure Zora princess had always been a kind, gentle soul. Abel had rarely seen her in battle, but it seemed particularly unfair that she had been dragged into the war and murdered in such a horrifying way. He didn’t know what specifically had happened in the Divine Beasts, but given how the guardians had been taken over and no support had arrived, he could guess well enough.

“Can you do anything?” Tilieth questioned hopefully.

“There are elixirs I could make,” the healer proposed. “He’d have to be awake to ingest them, though. Beyond that, it’s up to him. His wounds are wrapped and cleaned – I cannot change the natural healing process.”

“Your ancestors could,” Abel cut in, crossing his arms. “I’m more concerned about your technology than your healers, Lady Impa. The shrines are healing him. We need to know where they all are.”

Impa sighed. “The best solution would be to repair the Shrine of Resurrection. If it’s damaged… the best ones to fix it would be my sister or Robbie. But as I said yesterday, I haven’t been in contact with them since the Calamity. We were fighting our own war down here, too. The guardians came to Kakariko from the west. They completely destroyed Lakna Rokee Settlement and burned the hillside. We held them off, but… my mother was killed in the fight, and I became chief. I had to help rebuild the village. Purah stayed longer than Robbie, but even she left after a year.”

Abel chewed his tongue a little to hold back the bite in his tone before saying, “The Shrine is destroyed. Link will die before we can hunt anyone down, let alone before it can be repaired. I need to know where the smaller shrines are.”

The Sheikah chief furrowed her brow thoughtfully, her head tipping down to look at Link. The metal adornments of her hat jingled, filling the silence as Abel felt dread bubble in his chest.

“I… don’t know the location of all the shrines,” Lady Impa said slowly. “Not many were apparent before the Calamity. It seems more have appeared since then. I assume that was your doing, based on what Tilieth’s told me.”

Whatever help Abel had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t this. Why had the king even directed them here? The dread fizzled out, replaced by an ever-growing frustration.

“I can show you the one here,” the chief continued. “And I can try to map out the few I know of that Princess Zelda visited.”

“In the meantime, I’ll make some elixirs for Sir Link,” the healer said, rising. “And perhaps a few for you two as well, for your journey.”

Their journey. Their journey. Abel… had known, yes, that they would be on a journey to find the shrines for Link, but going to Kakariko had seemed a bit more of a main goal, an endpoint that would give them all the information they needed so they could start anew with everything in hand. It had at least promised some sort of guidance and assistance.

Tilieth smiled. “Thank you for your help.”

The former knight almost let out a bitter laugh. Help? What help? Pointing out one or two places we can try to reach in a land scorched by malice and crawling with enemies? Do we even know how many shrines there are?!

He was tempted to ask for at least a warrior escort to assist them, but at this point he didn’t trust them enough to even consider it. Besides, it might attract too much attention, assuming there were people with ill intentions wandering the countryside.

Such as…

“What of the Yiga?” Abel asked suddenly.

Lady Impa stared at him, a little baffled. “The Yiga? What of those traitors?”

“Have you heard anything about their movements?”

The chief shook her head. “No. The whole world was almost destroyed. For once, I think even they are just trying to survive. I hope they were wiped out, honestly.”

As do I. Abel sighed, nodding. “Let’s go to this shrine, then.”

With that, he helped Tilieth dress Link once more and carried him outside. Lady Impa led the group up the cliffs, which allowed for a beautiful view of a good portion of Hyrule. It didn’t boast the same vastness and scope as Tilieth’s favorite perch just outside the Shrine of Resurrection, but it did give Abel a moment of pause.

A moment to remember what it looked like before all this.

Abel had only been to Kakariko Village once before in his life, and it was when he’d been assigned as part of the royal guard that would accompany Princess Zelda to the village. This was before Link had been appointed her knight. She had been fairly young, fourteen or so. The village had seemed so much livelier then. It had also been more populated.

Bitterness swelled inside of him, the same old friend that seemed to accompany him on bad days. He swallowed hard, looking away. When Tilieth slid Link’s hand and the slate across the access pad, Abel walked first into the darkness of the shrine.

Having Lady Impa accompany them down into this new trial was at least different, though he wasn’t sure how helpful it would be. Not that he hadn’t seen the woman fight – Lady Impa was an impressive warrior. He just…

He didn’t trust anyone anymore, he supposed. And at this point, with as little as she could offer, he’d given up on relying on anyone else for assistance.

The voice that reverberated in the chamber spoke a different message this time, leaving the former knight on edge. “To you who sets foot in this shrine… I am Ta’loh Naeg. I share with you my knowledge, that it may please Hylia.”

“That’s… different,” Tilieth noted. “We don’t have to do anything?”

“You usually have to do something?” Lady Impa asked.

“Yes,” Abel answered slowly, lowering Link to the floor. Two chests flanked the entrance, and he hesitantly went to one. He was happily surprised to find a Sheikah blade in it.

Finally, some useful treasure.

“The trial, of course!” Lady Impa clapped her hands together. “Stories say that this shrine held an ancient trial for Sheikah warriors!”

“Maybe you should do it, then?” Tilieth suggested hesitantly, glancing at Abel.

Abel felt his hackles raise, but before he could protest, the chief nodded. Abel stepped forward, but Til put a hand to his chest, somehow managing to put pressure right where his ribs were bruised. He coughed and grimaced immediately, catching her attention.

“Are you hurt?” she asked quietly as Lady Impa walked by, unaware. “We need to talk to the healer.”

“I’m fine,” he snapped. “But I’ll let her do it. Since apparently I’m too feeble to handle a Sheikah trial now.”

“It’s their tradition,” Tilieth argued hesitantly, expression worried. “And it gives us a break. She’s on our side too, Abel, remember?”

Abel sighed heavily.

As Lady Impa approached the center of the room, the gap in the floor was filled with a rising arena and miniature guardian awaiting her. Abel and Tilieth, despite their aversion to the mechanical beasts, were growing accustomed to the sight in these trials.

He supposed they should have warned the chief about it.

Lady Impa gasped, going rigid, before she charged ahead, slashing viciously at the guardian. Abel squinted, noticing that this one was designed differently from the others, and it did nothing to defend itself. The monk’s voice spoke again, giving fighting instructions.

It’s not a duel, it’s a lesson. Of course. He did say he was trying to impart knowledge.

It was a very basic lesson, though. Lady Impa picked up on it quickly, realizing her attacks were futile but the enemy wasn’t retaliating. She followed the instructions, one by one, until she destroyed the small foe. This time, when it shattered, its blade remained intact, piquing Abel’s curiosity.

After all, such a blade could be useful.

Abel collected the blade while Tilieth collected something from the other chest, plopping it into her pouch.

“We won’t have room to carry all your trinkets, you know,” Abel remarked dully.

Tilieth only smiled and winked.

Abel was the last to reach the final room as he had to pick Link back up, but Lady Impa’s surprised squeal was enough indication that the other two had made it to the monk.

“H-he’s… this is… different,” Impa said, clearly disturbed at the sight of the decomposed Sheikah monk.

“This is normal,” Tilieth explained. “So far, all the shrines have a monk in them at the end. They give Link a Spirit Orb. Watch.”

The monk spoke of a hero rising from the ashes of Hyrule before granting the orb. Link twitched a little, as if when the orb shattered was akin to being splashed with a big raindrop. Abel rested his forehead against the boy’s cheek in reassurance, though he doubted Link could feel it. With that, the group was transported outside, Lady Impa shaking from head to foot.

“What just—?” she tried to question, looking around wildly.

“The shrine kicks you out when you’re done,” Abel quipped, stepping into the grass. “Let’s go. The healer should be ready by now, I imagine.”

“Kollin’s elixirs take some time to m-make,” Lady Impa explained shakily, still getting used to the sensation of being teleported. “B-but—but I imagine he’ll be done by evening.”

Evening?! They were going to lose an entire day? This was absurd. Abel could see another shrine down in the valley from here. He wasn’t going to wait.

“That’s all right,” Tilieth said cheerfully. “I can cook some meals with the ingredients I gathered. Best to have supplies ready for… well, for everything.”

Abel garnered some satisfaction in the way his wife’s voice faltered, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe it was because she was entirely too chipper about this whole mess. Why wasn’t she as upset as he was, why did she think this was fine? She’d said herself that the Sheikah would be able to—

To what? To fix this issue? What sort of naivete had led Abel to think anyone could fix anything at this point?

Get yourself together, he snapped at himself. They still had an objective; the situation wasn’t entirely hopeless.

He supposed he… had expected more help than this. If the king had mentioned Lady Impa would guide them, then he’d, well…

He’d expected the king to be true to his word. But he wasn’t. And it wasn’t the first time.

The bitterness swelled, roaring like a foul beast, and Abel swallowed hard again, biting his tongue.

Lady Impa and Tilieth were babbling now, speaking of shrines and monks, and Abel found himself too weary to care. He walked down the path back to the village with Link resting comfortably on his back before turning right and heading towards the view of the valley once more. At least here he could enjoy some silence.

The trail led to a large collection of stones, Sheikah names inscribed on them, with one towering above the rest.

A memorial for the Sheikah lost in the Calamity.

Crickets chirped and birds sang, their voices carried in the wind, echoing in the silence of Abel’s mind as words were hard to find at the moment. He remembered the bodies of the Sheikah warriors he’d buried on the Great Plateau, the two who remained to help him defend the Shrine of Resurrection from the guardians who had invaded the sacred place. He remembered Castle Town burning along with the rest of Central Hyrule.

He recalled Link, broken and bloodied nearly beyond recognition.

The smell of ash and smoke filled his nostrils, and his throat tightened. He looked to his right and saw Hyrule once more, its landscape a patchy mixture of green and scorched brown and black. The orange glow of two shrines stood out amidst the scars of the land, and energy filled the former captain of the royal guard.

Marching back into the village, Abel saw Tilieth alone now, standing in the center of town. She smiled brightly when she saw him. “Abel, there you are! Come here, let me hold Link, I want to pray.”

“We don’t have time for that,” Abel said dismissively.

“You need to be more patient,” his wife giggled, seemingly unbothered by this entire day. “It’ll be fast. Besides, you need to eat! I made some breakfast for you, if you want some.”

He couldn’t argue the latter issue as his stomach growled, and so he slowly let Tilieth take their son in exchange for a small meal. He finished it within a couple bites, returning his attention to his family to see Til sitting on the ground in front of the goddess statue, Link’s head in her lap.

The image struck him for some reason. It wasn’t as if Til hadn’t prayed to Hylia many times over the years. Abel himself used to pray to her fairly often. Every once in a while his heart stirred enough to try again when they were on the plateau. But now…

Now it seemed like a giant divine joke.

Princess Zelda was supposedly a descendant of Hylia, an inheritor of the divine power to seal away the darkness. Yet she couldn’t activate it in time.

Link was Hylia’s precious chosen hero, destined to fight the darkness and prevail. Yet she didn’t support him when the time came.

Abel had prayed time and again for his family’s safety. Yet his daughter was dead, his son close to it, and the one thing that could have saved him had been destroyed.

And now… now when he’d finally thought Hylia had shown them a path when things seemed the bleakest… Lady Impa had little to nothing to give.

“We need to leave,” he said curtly, eyes darkening.

“Oh, Abel,” Tilieth huffed, a little exasperated.

And that was what did it.

The bitterness and pain swirling in his gut returned with a searing passion, and fire spilled form his mouth. “Don’t talk to me in such a patronizing tone like I’m the child between the two of us. I’m the one who has been trying to keep everyone alive. I’m not the fool who runs about giggling like this is a game. I don’t place hope in false goddesses who only seem to take pleasure in torturing us, and I'm not as idiotic as you’re choosing to be! How can you just sit there and be fine with all of this? Do you even care about Link?! Why do I have to be the one to push to move forward, to—to—”

Words became increasingly difficult, choked out in a rage that was steadily growing along with his tone of voice. The area grew unnaturally quiet as Tilieth seemed to shrivel under his shadow.

His wife watched him, eyes wide, face stricken, tears steadily spilling, cheeks flushed. “You think—what makes you think I don’t—Abel—”

“Don’t even argue with me about it, it’s true!” Abel continued, even though his mind and heart had taken a distinct change in tone. It was as if he couldn’t stop himself anymore, like he knew what he was doing was wrong, but it was already happening and it was akin to a boulder making its way down a mountain. “You pray and you pray, and you speak to the winds, and you place hope in people who have no right to it, and you act as if everything is fine when it’s not!!”

He couldn’t bear to be in this village any longer, couldn’t bear to continue this conversation any longer, couldn’t bear to see Tilieth look so hurt, couldn’t bear to feel so hurt. He turned sharply on his heel, finding Ama grazing lazily and mounting her before tearing out of the area entirely.

The rain began anew, pelting against his face, making him shiver and ache, but he pushed Ama to run all the harder. His surroundings blurred as he steadily grew soaked, his steed couldn’t run fast enough, his heart couldn’t beat hard enough, the rain wasn’t loud enough, he wasn’t angry enough, nothing was enough—

The rain stopped, bringing forth sunlight, startling him into focus just in time to realize where his horse had taken him.

Blatchery Plain.

Abel’s breathing sped up until it started to hitch, one hiccup after another. He shakily slid off Ama and walked amidst the carnage, his body trembling from head to toe.

The guardians stood all around, frozen in that final moment in time, a testament to the princess’ divine power.

All Abel could see was how much it must have hurt. How terrifying it must have been. How much Link must have been hoping Abel would arrive as promised and save him.

Hyperventilating gave way to sobs, and Abel collapsed onto his hands and knees.

Goddess above, what he wouldn’t give to get Link and Lyra back, what he wouldn’t give to prevent the Calamity from ever happening, what he wouldn’t give to never feel like this again.

Why? Why?!

Abel cried until he had no tears left, until it hurt to breathe let alone weep, until he felt so utterly drained he might as well have been awake for a month. Something soft and warm nuzzled him, neighing and grunting softly, and he blindly reached up to stroke Ama’s face. The horse pushed against him again and Abel leaned into it, wrapping both arms around her neck as he tried to get some control over himself. The horse, despite being tamed only recently, was surprisingly patient in the hold, and it gave Abel the grounding he needed to finally regulate his breathing.

When he stood, he huffed out a wet, tired chuckle, petting the horse’s neck. “Thank you, girl.”

The horse huffed, bobbing and headbutting him gently in the chest, and Abel suddenly realized that this was not, in fact, Ama.

Ama was a black mare, with hair that was dark like the night sky. While this steed had charcoal hair, it was longer, with a dark chestnut coat save for white around its hooves.

There was a small scar on its front left shoulder, distinctly patterned, a downward circular slice as if a curved blade had tried to cut it.

Curved like a Yiga sickle. The only curved blade Abel was really familiar with.

Abel blinked. Stared at the scar, the familiar scar on the familiar horse.

“Epona…?” he breathed, looking up into the horse’s brown eyes.

The mare’s ears perked forward and she whinnied softly, tail flicking in acknowledgement. Ama roamed behind her, grazing.

Hylia above, it… it was Epona. This was Link’s horse.

How had…? Abel shook his head. He wasn’t going to question it.

And with that thought, shame immediately filled him. Because he… had questioned everything. Again and again and again. More than that, though, he knew without a doubt that he’d hurt Tilieth.

Abel glanced at the sky. He… couldn’t say thank you, but he would at least temper the bitter thoughts in his mind. Maybe this was actually a good sign, after all.

He didn’t dare hope, but…

“It’s good to see you again, girl,” he finally settled for saying. Epona bumped her head against him once more. “Let’s get you to your rider.”

XXX

Tilieth sat on the ground alone.

When soft footsteps approached her, she didn’t bother to look up and acknowledge them.

“Tilieth…?”

The voice belonged to Impa.

Tilieth just stared at Link, hands tangled in his hair, breaths shaky but regular.

“I, uh…” Impa continued somewhat awkwardly. “I’m sorry.”

Sorry? What was she sorry for? This wasn’t her fault. None of it was any of their faults.

Til wished Abel would just understand that.

Her heart ached and burned. She felt so unbelievably alone in that moment, despite the comfort the Sheikah chief was trying to offer. Tilieth had always been surrounded by love and support her entire life until the Calamity, and then all she’d had was her husband.

And now even he was leaving her.

That’s not true and you know it, she reminded herself, despite tears beginning to spill out of her eyes, despite the way her breath started to hitch.

Why couldn’t Abel understand? Tilieth had been terrified to leave the Plateau, and yet he was upset at her for trying to find joy and hope wherever they went? Why couldn’t he just—why did he have to be—

Tilieth cried, leaning over her son.

“Look, I—I don’t know you, but,” Impa stumbled over her words clumsily, hand resting comfortingly on Til’s back. “But I can see how much you love Link, how much you want to help him. I… I know he’ll be in good hands since he’s with you.”

Tilieth wished she could thank her for her kindness, but words never came to her in these moments. She often hated that, hated that she had passed it on to Link.

Link’s silence leading up to the Calamity had been twofold and Tilieth had known it. Sure, he’d been stoic and calm just like his father, but underneath she could see the anxiety. Abel was quiet in his worries, too, but he’d take them out through anger and work. Link did that too, but also, like Til, he just shut down.

It didn’t make a difference now, she supposed, but she wished dearly she knew how to stop it. Impa at least deserved acknowledgement.

But Tilieth was so tired. She was so tired of having to hunt for hope and light, of having to be the one to bring it to everyone else. Why couldn’t others find joy in the world too and share it with her? Why did Abel have to be the way he was?

Why did any of this have to be the way it was? Why couldn’t Link just wake up, why couldn’t Lyra just be alive, why couldn’t her father be here to help her still?

“Why… why don’t we just go back to my home?” Impa offered. “Or—or the inn?”

Tilieth really just wanted a hug from her loved ones, honestly, but the kindness Impa was offering still warmed her heart. She nodded, sniffling, and let Impa pick up her son.

“Huh. I never expected Link to be so light,” Impa muttered, staring at him. “I mean, he’s so muscular and all. Or, well…”

He had been, yes. Before he’d started fading away into death’s embrace after the Shrine had been damaged. His muscles were still there, but much smaller, and he’d definitely started to lose weight.

Tilieth burst into tears anew.

“O-oh—uh, it’s okay!” Impa hastily said. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

Impa sighed as Tilieth tried to control herself.

“I… I really am sorry,” Impa repeated, her voice much less frantic now. “Link’s my friend. I hate seeing him like this too. But… but I do mean what I said. I know you care about him and that he’s in good hands. It makes me feel better to know you’re taking care of him.”

“Y-you…” Tilieth tried to push the words out of her tight throat, rubbing her face to wipe the tears away. “You two were friends?”

“Yeah!” Impa eagerly answered, nodding. “We traveled a little bit together. One time I dared Link to eat a whole roast pig at one of the feasts people provided for the princess and he did it! Another time while we were traveling, he let me put flowers in his hair to cheer up the princess.”

The image of Link with flowers in his hair made Tilieth giggle. She tried to latch on to the idea, to the sweetness of the memory, the gentle love in the gesture, rather than the thought that she would never see such a scene. Her gaze returned to the statue of Hylia.

Oh, Hylia. I… I’m sorry to ask, but please… just… help us. I know you’ve been looking out for us, and I apologize to ask for more, but…

The breeze changed directions, blowing the scent of flowers towards her, and Tilieth sighed, her tears steadily drying.

Link coughed in Impa’s hold, startling both women.

“Guess some pollen got in his nose,” Impa offered feebly with a small laugh. “Let’s get to the inn.”

Tilieth sighed, following the chief. When they entered she watched Impa gently lay Link on one of the beds.

“Kollin will be able to help with the elixirs,” Impa said reassuringly with a smile. “He’s an excellent healer, I promise. He patched me up after the Calamity.”

Tilieth nodded, sitting on the bed. Impa watched her a while longer and then wrung her hands a little nervously.

“Is there… is there anything else I can do?” Impa offered. “I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

“It’s okay,” Tilieth said, finding her voice once more. “I don’t… please don’t take Abel’s anger to heart. He…”

He what? She didn’t really know. Abel had a horrible habit of not expressing himself well, far worse than Tilieth when her emotions got the best of her. Her issue was that she couldn’t control her emotions when they overwhelmed her, while he refused to even acknowledge them.

She supposed some of this was her fault, then. She hadn’t checked in with him. But she’d…

Frustration bubbled within her. She naturally tried to take care of others, her intuition helped her break through to Abel at the start of their acquaintance and extended their relationship beyond friendship. But didn’t she deserve something in return?

Of course you do, and you’ve gotten that, she reminded herself, her chest tightening, her eyes watering once more. She couldn’t even begin to count the nights she’d spent sobbing in Abel’s arms when they’d first settled on the Great Plateau. She couldn’t recall how many times he’d told her it would be all right, that Link was safe now, that he would protect her and their son.

She hated this. She hated needing the comfort and not giving it back when she usually did. She hated that Abel was so upset and wouldn’t reach out, that she had to be the one to initiate it when she too was hurting. She hated that she’d let Abel be her stability when she hadn’t done the same for him. She hated that she had done the same and it wasn’t enough. She hated this entire situation.

She just wished things could go back to the way they were. She’d take the status quo on the Great Plateau over this.

But she couldn’t go back, and she knew that. So she had to find hope where she could. Because she couldn’t live without hope; she refused to.

Abel seemed to view her hope as some kind of weakness, as a childish thing, but her desire for it and her seeking and clinging it took more energy and strength than anything in her life.

Impa had apparently excused herself at some point, as Tilieth suddenly found the room mostly empty. The innkeeper was pointedly keeping herself busy with cleaning the other side of the building.

Tilieth sat on the bed alone.

The door to the inn opened, but she didn’t pay it much mind. Instead, she turned her attention to Link. When was the last time he’d awakened? Ah, that’s right, he’d had a few sips of water yesterday in the morning. He really hadn’t eaten much of anything at all the entire time he’d been out of the Shrine—the first time he’d woken up they’d had some broth ready, but he’d only had a sip or two—and it was beginning to worry her. She could see how his hair was dry and damaged, his lips cracked, how his skin pulled more easily than it should have. He was dehydrated and undernourished, and she couldn’t do anything about it. Link’s waking moments were so rare and unpredictable, it left her anxious just thinking about it. How would they even get elixirs in him?

“Why are you here?”

Tilieth jumped, startled, and looked up to see the warrior they’d met at the Dueling Peaks Stable. The young woman watched her with piercing eyes that held an intensity to them, reminding her strikingly of Link and Abel, though the girl’s were brown instead of the boys’ cerulean blue.

“I—Lady Impa suggested it,” Tilieth answered uncertainly.

“Why are you in Kakariko?” the warrior clarified, her tone unchanging from its monotone, interrogative manner.

“W-we…” Til glanced at Link, and fear ate at her heart all of a sudden. Kakariko Village was a refuge, but this warrior felt nearly belligerent all of a sudden. She tried to think if she’d done something offensive, or if the warrior had given some kind of sign of mal intent back at the stable, but all she’d done was show some kind of possible surprise at seeing them before abruptly leaving.

Wait. She probably recognized Link. All the Sheikah knew of the Hero, after all. They probably all knew he was supposed to be in the Shrine of Resurrection, too. Perhaps Impa hadn’t told everyone.

Did that mean she wasn’t supposed to tell everyone? They were walking around with Link in broad daylight. That seemed unlikely. She supposed this warrior hadn’t figured it out yet, then.

“The Shrine was broken,” Tilieth explained. “We came here for help.”

The warrior crossed her arms. “You won’t get much help here. Sheikah keep to themselves.”

Tilieth watched her hesitantly, curiosity bubbling in her. This young woman wore Sheikah clothes but clearly was a Hylian. It was a little confusing. Instead of letting her curiosity get the best of her, though, she asked, “Where should we go, then?”

The Sheikah warrior paused as if to consider, gaze drifting over to Link, and her eyes softened. “Nearly all of Hyrule is destroyed. But I heard that one tribe was least affected due to their location. You should go to the Gerudo Desert.”

“The Gerudo Desert?” That was so far from here!

“They have strong warriors,” the woman continued, staring at Til once more. “There are no major Hylian towns anymore. They’re all gone. Zora’s Domain is hostile, Death Mountain inaccessible, and no one has heard anything from the Rito. But I know for a fact the Gerudo were mostly unscathed. If I were looking for sanctuary for my son to heal, I’d go there.”

“You think the Sheikah wouldn’t let us stay here to rest?” Tilieth questioned carefully, not really believing such a statement but wondering why this woman seemed to think so.

“They’ll let you stay all you like,” the warrior replied. “But they won’t lift a finger for you outside of this village. If rest is all he needs, then by all means, let him stay.”

“You know the Sheikah went to the Great Plateau with him,” Tilieth informed her, a little bemused. “They helped seal him away so he could heal, they fought guardians to protect him.”

“And they died,” the warrior said coldly. “Alongside many other Sheikah.”

“Alongside everyone,” Tilieth corrected quietly, looking at the ground.

“Not everyone,” the warrior suddenly snapped, making Tilieth shoot a startled look at her. The warrior glared for a moment longer before looking away. “Not everyone. But they don’t care about that anymore. They did their search and rescue, they picked up what pieces they could, and then they just hunkered down and stopped caring about the rest of the world.”

“You… sound like you don’t like them,” Tilieth noted hesitantly.

“They’re my family,” the warrior replied with a strange dull heaviness to her tone. “That doesn’t mean I don’t disagree with their thinking. What is it you need for your son?”

“He… needs Spirit Orbs. We can collect them from the shrines. Do you… do you know where more shrines are? Like the one up on the hill? They’re the only thing that can heal him.”

“I’ve seen those shrines everywhere lately,” the warrior answered. “But they weren’t there before. Hopefully they don’t move before he can get to them.”

Well, at least Tilieth knew that wasn’t going to happen. They didn’t move, they were just unearthed by Abel and the slate.

The warrior shifted, growing less stern and asking in a softer tone, “Does… does he ever wake up?”

Tilieth smiled sadly. “Once every day or so. If we’re lucky we can make sure he drinks something. But it’s… not…”

Not enough.

The warrior slowly made her way to the other side of the bed, staring at Link. Tilieth watched her keenly, wondering where this sudden gentleness came from. The woman seemed to be a swinging pendulum, one moment harsh and the next kind. She looked so young – Tilieth wondered if this behavior was simply the product of growing up in such a world. She couldn’t have been more than twenty. Tilieth remembered her own life at that age and it was… vastly different.

“What’s your name?” Tilieth asked quietly.

The warrior didn’t acknowledge her for a moment, still watching Link, before she closed her eyes with a shuddering breath. “Sheik.”

It was certainly a curious name. Tilieth wondered if the girl herself had chosen it, as a Hylian being raised by the Sheikah tribe.

Sheik reached down slowly, hesitantly, her hand setting on Link’s shoulder. Tilieth grew a little tense but didn’t stop her.

Link’s eyes opened.

Sheik and Tilieth both jumped, caught off guard, and Sheik retracted her hand as if she’d been burned. Tilieth didn’t bother acknowledging it, instead scrambling for her bag to get some food in him. She requested hastily, “Can you get the healer, please? This might be the only chance we get to give him elixirs!”

Sheik nodded after a moment’s hesitation, rushing outside. Tilieth managed to sit Link up a little and got him to have some stew, and she was surprised at how long he stayed awake and how he actually even managed to try and chew some of the food, though it had all been pureed for him to drink.

He… he hadn’t done that before.

“Link…?” Tilieth tried hesitantly, hopefully.

Her son stared off at nothing, and she sighed.

The door burst open, making Til nearly jump out of her skin and spilling the rest of the food on the blanket. Impa and the healer, Kollin, were there in an instant.

“He’s awake?!” Impa said breathlessly.

“It won’t last long,” Tilieth explained quickly. “Please, the elixir—”

“Right here,” Kollin cut in, offering a half-filled bottle. “I didn’t have time to make everything, but it’s something.”

Tilieth nearly yanked the bottle out of his hands, turning back just to see that Link had fallen back asleep.

She could practically feel the chill in the room as everyone’s hope and urgency shattered. She blinked rapidly against the tears that sprang up, lowering Link to the pillow and fiddling anxiously with the bottle.

Sheik approached silently, staring at Link, and then kicked the bed frame, jostling him.

“What are you—” Til almost snapped when Link startled awake once more.

He—he was awake again?

Wait, what? He never woke more than once in a day!

“The elixir, hurry!” Impa insisted, waving a hand. Sheik sat Link up, directing his head towards Tilieth. He clearly didn’t really notice the jostling, but he was still awake.

Tilieth hastily uncorked the bottle before slowing her movements so she wouldn’t make him choke on it. Link drank tiredly, clearly running out of stamina, but he got half the contents in before starting to cough and forcing her to pull away.

“You need more Spirit Orbs,” Sheik muttered.

“So that’s… that’s how he’s been?” Impa asked.

Tilieth nodded, lowering the elixir bottle to her lap.

Everyone watched Link a moment before Kollin piped up. “Why don’t you take a break? Sir Link drank some elixir, let him rest.”

Sheik glanced back at the healer before lowering Link to the pillow once more.

“Well…” Impa started uncertainly before catching Til’s attention and smiling. “I was going to work on a plum garden I wanted to plant. Maybe you can help me?”

Tilieth stared at her, dumbfounded. The thought of letting Link out of her sight when Abel wasn’t around was incomprehensible, if not ridiculous. But they were in Kakariko Village. They were safe.

Link’s safe.

“I… yes,” she said slowly, as if such a thing were novel, as if gardening hadn’t been a necessity she’d handled on the Plateau.

But it was different. She wasn’t alone. She wasn’t alone. She was helping someone else garden, she was helping create something in a village full of people. There was an entire community here. A safe community, where Link could rest without worry of danger, where Tilieth could just be with others and enjoy herself and work on a project for the sake of working on a project and not because her family would starve to death without her efforts.

A smile slowly spread across her face, and she spoke with more conviction. “Yes. I can help.”

Despite the overcast nature of the day, Tilieth couldn’t feel warmer and more comforted as she went outside and dug her hands through the soil. They were nearly finished with the garden when a Sheikah rushed over to say someone was in labor, and Kollin and Impa had gone to assist. Tilieth completed the project, wiping the dirt from her hands, and decided to wander the village a bit, basking in its simple beauty, relishing the fact that, for the first time in a decade, she felt like she was a part of a community once more.

Some exploring yielded excitement that not only brought her joy but also grounded her back in her current situation. A korok was hiding amidst a few little statues, gifting her a seed and an armful of apples. A woman was seeking to rebuild her clothing boutique – though there were no visitors to Kakariko, she still wished to make clothes for others, and she assisted Tilieth in working with a half-finished garment to make a tunic for Link. It was colorful and beautiful, resembling a traveler’s attire from Hateno. Tilieth’s heart ached at the sight of it, but she was also satisfied with it. At least now Link had clothes that would fit him properly, and perhaps even keep him a little warmer. The leather belts and pauldron would also lend some protection.

The village was getting together to celebrate the birth of a baby girl by the evening, and Tilieth went to check on Link, when she heard the sound of a horse galloping and neighing.

Tilieth stiffened, knowing who it had to be. She had managed to get to the inn before Abel’s return, so it might buy some time as he looked for her. She wasn’t entirely sure she really needed it. She’d calmed significantly since his outburst. But…

She still didn’t want to deal with this. Not now. She was having a good day. Link was having a good day. And…

The door slid open. Feet shuffled inside.

The room was uncomfortably quiet. The innkeeper shifted awkwardly before exiting the building entirely, joining the festivities elsewhere.

“I’m sorry,” Abel started softly, simply. “I… what I said was… I know you care about Link. I know you love him more than anything. I’m sorry.”

The wound in Tilieth’s heart wanted her to push back, to argue, but it was a small wound, steadily shrinking in size.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened, though it had been a good while. Abel would be fine, fine, fine until he suddenly wasn’t. There were ques, but Til had missed them, as she herself had been dealing with everything too. She remembered, years ago, before the Calamity, when Abel had apologized for an outburst, and she’d actually been able to ask him why he acted in such a manner.

I… it’s my responsibility to take care of you, of our children, of the royal family. I suppose sometimes… I’m not as strong as I need to be. And it bothers me.

There was more to it than that, she was sure, and despite how much she had tried to reassure him… well. The Calamity had happened.

Tilieth sighed.

“It’s okay,” she said quietly.

“No. It isn’t.” Abel argued.

Tilieth felt her chest tighten. Why did her husband always have to be so aggressive anyway? She was trying to let the subject go.

Abel walked towards her, and she sighed tiredly, wondering if he would turn this into another fight. He hesitated a moment before sitting on the bed with her, hand moving to her face and directing her chin to look at him.

“You’re doing everything you can to help Link. You’ve gone through more than anyone should have to and you’re… you’re still trying to find the good in the situation, still trying to be optimistic. It certainly does more good than… you’re strong and wonderful, Til. I’m sorry.”

Til’s throat tightened up once more, and she couldn’t push words out, so instead she leaned in to her husband, who held her gently. She promised to tell him how wonderful he was later, when she was able. But for now, she let herself relax in the safe embrace, crying and holding him in return.

The moment was interrupted when Abel stiffened abruptly. “Til—Til get the food, Link’s awake—”

Tilieth’s eyes opened quickly, and she stared at their son. Link was indeed awake again, though not focusing on anything in particular. She swallowed hard, heart racing, and choked out, “Honey, he—he ate earlier, and drank some elixir, he’s—he’s waking up more—”

“He what?” Abel gasped, releasing her and reaching towards Link. “Link? Link, can you hear me?”

“I… I don’t know if he can,” Til explained uncertainly. “But he is more arousable. Sheik woke him up too.”

“Sheik?” Abel repeated, glancing at her. “The warrior from before?”

Til stared at him. “Wait, you—you spoke with her too?”

“Back at the stable,” Abel answered dismissively. “She… well, she saved me from an archer.”

Til stood, adrenaline spiking. “So you did get into a fight! I knew you were hurt! Abel, why didn’t you tell me?”

Abel turned to her sharply but caught himself and sighed instead. “I didn’t want to slow us down.”

Til grabbed the remainder of the elixir she’d tried to give to Link and held it out to her husband. He wordlessly took it and drank. The relief on his face was instantly apparent, and he relaxed his posture, seeming to sink more into the bed. Then he shifted his focus back to Link, but the boy was asleep once more.

“He’s been doing that,” Tilieth noted. “That’s the third time he’s woken up today.”

“The third time?” Abel repeated, surprised.

Tilieth smiled, running a hand over her husband’s head, gently untangling knots in his hair. “Yes. He’s getting better, Abel. It… it will be all right.”

Abel leaned in to the touch, resting his hands on her hips and pulling her back to him. Til sat beside him, letting him bury his head in her shoulder as she held him. Then excitement bubbled within her, triggered by Link’s awakening and the end of the tension between the couple.

Til pulled away gently but steadily, catching Abel’s attention, and she smiled at him cheerfully. “I made Link clothes. I haven’t had time to cook much, but I can make some dinner for us for the journey, and—the village is celebrating the birth of a baby, so we should enjoy that too!”

Abel watched her a moment, blinking and registering what she’d said, and he chuckled breathily. “Well, I mapped out more on the slate, and marked a few shrines. And… I found another horse. Or, well, she found me.”

“Another—you—the map—you went to a tower?”

“Yes, but—but come look, Til,” Abel insisted, rising and taking her by the hand.

The pair went outside, though they stopped at the entrance to the inn as Abel didn’t want to leave Link unattended for long. He whistled briefly, and Til saw Ama trot over, alongside—

“Epona!” she gasped. “That’s Epona!”

Epona nickered, ears perked forward, and she covered the extra distance to the couple while Ama huffed a small distance from the inn. Link’s horse paused at the stairs to the inn and cautiously put a hoof on a wooden step, eager to reach the pair. Tilieth laughed, clear and light and echoing in the air, and she ran down to meet the steed, hugging her neck. Epona swished her tail, turning her head a little so it nuzzled the back of Til’s, and she felt her heart soar.

“How did you find her?” she asked, not letting go.

“I didn’t,” Abel answered from the inn’s doorway. “I told you, she found me.”

“Oh, honey,” Til cooed into the mare’s mane. “You survived.” Then she burst away, even more energized, and looked at Abel in delight. “Hon, this is—we should celebrate! I can’t believe—this is so wonderful!”

Abel’s smile was warm and, dare she say it, hopeful, and he nodded. There was no way she wasn’t dragging him to the village’s festivities now. The discussion with Sheik, plans for their trip, talk of Gerudo Town, even cooking provisions could wait until later. She just wanted to bask in this joy now, her first feeling of freedom and joy, her hope strengthened and revitalized and rewarded.

They were going to be alright.

[chronotopes]

society if vital lights chapters were not fucking infuriatingly varied in their length

[keeps-ache]

ggghhg i hate vehiclessssssss ghghghhghhhhh [dies dies dies forever]

[rosalette-roxburgh]

Penacony goes harder than any other hyv storyline ive played so far (in my personal opinion) and this is because. Well. They actually had a plan

[reel-fear]

👁️👁️

You must tell 👀

*rubs my little hands together* sorry for taking a bit on answering this! My brain has not been braining lately but your ask couldn't have come at a better time bc Grant has been on the mind as of late and I am hyped at the excuse to infodump abt him- [this is gonna be long I am so sorry-]

now for quick disclaimers for anyone reading this that isnt the asker or me- we're not discussing canon Grant Cohen, we're talking my Grant, this black haired dude, that guy. Another fun disclaimer, I was HEAVILY, inspired by Grant's role/character in abomination for my Grant. Taking time to awknowledge every part of his character or story that was inspired by it would make this 10x longer so if similarities are spotted know its very likely I did that on purpose bc I just really love abomination KJHFSDGKJDHGSD-

Alright with that outta the way I'ma talk a lot abt what happens to Grant in the canon of Showtime to explain what I meant and also maybe a bit of me rambling about aus that explore Grants relationship with Sammy n Joey under a more romantic lens. Should be obvious but spoilers for It's Showtime down below~

So Grant in Showtime after he dies ends up joining the ink demon cult, becoming a lost one and earning the title of The Priest.

When the cult was all together him and Sammy worked together to run it. Sammy used his connection to the ink demon to recieve messages and learn more on how to survive in this new situation and Grant made sure the lost ones acted accordingly. [A role not so far off from the one he was forced to take when the studio started facing troubles before his death] Grant also took the job of dealing with sacrificing souls and sending them back to the dark puddles, which sometimes was members of the following chosen at random and sometimes whatever poor soul found themselves captured by them.

However when Malice rose from the puddles and made a deal with the Projectionist to seize a considerable amount of the studio as theirs, the cult was split up, Sammy and Jack forced to flee to the music department and Grant with the rest of the following being down in the area of Chapter 4. This put Grant in a very bad spot, the lost ones were very shaken by this event and since then Grant worries their faith in him has wavered.

An important thing with the ink demon cult was that it is meant to be a more realistic take on how a cult works. The Ink Demon runs the cult, he is the most powerful figure in it and yet the hardest to contact, so Grant and Sammy are little more than middlemen tasked with keeping things running or else they face the ink demon's wrath. Sammy is sadly very aware that the ink demon is not as benevolent as he or the lost ones would like the believe. Grant likes to think being the Priest will at the very least protect him if things go wrong, but he is sadly mistaken.

Grant is in a very dangerous spot, he knows the lost ones beneath him are getting angsty and worried about just how truthfully safe the cult is or if they should believe in the power of the ink demon. But he also knows if things fall apart the lost ones will come to tear him apart long before they go for the ink demon. Despite him merely being a puppet for their lord. A role Grant is not ready to acknowledge, not because he isn't smart enough to see he is just a pawn, but because he chooses not to think about it, less his paranoia eat him alive yet again... A very important thing to keep in mind with Grants character.

Grant did in fact play this role in life as well however, when things started going wrong in the studio, Joey was very quick to turn away from what was going on and continue asserting everything would be fine. Which while a lie he himself believed was a lie nonetheless. However Grant quickly became his right hand man as people like Thomas and Wally started noticing cracks forming all through out the studio. Staff going missing, the ink changing in the way it behaved and an eerie feeling the machine created in both of them.

Grant despite deep down being smart enough to know things were going poorly, parroted Joey's words, hanging off of them himself and doing whatever he could to shut down any attempts to bring to light the things going wrong. Of course, him and Joey both ended up paying the price for their lies, but so did everyone else around them. But unlike Sammy, Grant barely even seemed shaken to see that, like a conspiracy theorist seeing evidence their theory isn't true only makes them double down harder, Grant only seemed to double down on the idea that if he followed every order he was given. Surely things would turn out better this time.

So that's canon to the story of Showtime, but I do want to take a second to get some AU non canon ideas out of my brain centering around Grant and his relationship to both Joey n Sammy. In canon Grant's only romantic interest is Thomas, his literal husband and there is a lot of interesting conflict there, but I fucking love shipping so of course I have a million aus merely indulging in ships I think would also be interesting to explore in their own contexts. In this case, I'm gonna ramble a bit about Sammy x Grant and Grant x Joey and the interesting things I think there are to explore in their relationships in Showtime.

So you might've noticed that while not literally [as saying the ink demon is Joey in Showtime, while somewhat true, is not the entire truth of the situation and simplifies it quite a bit] Grant did end up following Joey to the grave... And then kept following him beyond it. Something that is objectively~ very queer of him.

There's just something so compelling about the idea of Grant yearning for Joey so much, being so close yet so far as his right hand man but not being brave enough to become his lover eventually drove Grant's love for Joey to become an outright obsession. The idea that Grant's feelings for Joey became so intense from how hard he pushed them down it blinded him from seeing the truth of the situation outside of the way Joey painted it. Then dying and his obsession turning into an outright worship of him.

The idea of Grant settling for just being Joey's favorite lackey, his most loyal pet and knowing that's his role but not caring bc at least it makes him stay by Joey's side. Ohh it's an interesting one to say the least. I even did a few sketches of them u can see-

They are doomed by the narrative to me and have been on my mind a lot lately can ya tell? KJDHSFGKJHDFSGKJHDFGSD

However when it comes to Sammy and Grant, I think there is a lot of interesting potential between them too. After all they share being the Ink Demon's henchmen in all of this and to see them both come to terms with that and try to find comfort in each other is such a fun idea to me.

An au where they both decide to ditch the cult and the ink demon and on their own try to figure out what happened to Joey and how to fix things is very compelling to me. I could see their relationship starting out as doing all these things for each other under the excuse they just need comfort until it starts to turn to actual feelings for each other. Both of them coming to terms with the fact Joey was not in fact a perfect person and maybe didn't even know how bad things were getting deep down himself but also finally letting themselves hold him accountable for the lies he told... It's a very fun healing narrative and very in line with a lot of the themes It's Showtime deals with.

Either way, I just really love what I've done with Grant's character in It's Showtime, he's for sure one of the most fascinating to me and the themes his story explores are ones that are important to the story as a whole and by extension me. Umm this turned out very long but I hope u enjoyed the read! Tysm for the excuse to infodump abt him, I was itching for one as u can see KDJHGKJDHFGKJDHFGSD.

[theggning]

The Human Thing to Do - Chapter 2

Fallout 4

Pairing: Paladin Danse/Piper Wright

Rating: M (angst, imagined body horror, canon references to suicide)

Piper would be perfectly happy to never think about the stupid Brotherhood of Steel ever again, and especially not the stupid paladin she stupidly fell in love with. But when an earth-shattering discovery exposes Danse's true identity, the Commonwealth's number one reporter finds herself back on the Brotherhood beat, racing against time and a knight she once called a friend.

In the aftermath, Danse takes stock of all the pieces of his life he's lost-- and the one he may have left.

Before and after Blind Betrayal hits the Bootyverse. Slight deviation from canon events. Awkward tension, intense verbal debates, and more hurt/comfort than you can shake a synth at.

LATEST CHAPTER: Danse throws an existential crisis and the gooey hurt/comfort stuff happens.

COMPLETE.

[uncaught-coolfish]

so true ilia

[silvertonedwords]

Warm? For chapter 4 ask.

He hums again, this time in assent, and she laughs softly, her voice warm against his ear. 

[sadboi-in-a-sweater]

Sadboi's Incredibly Strange Multifandom Adventure - Chapter 47: When the Clock Ticks

The Guardians of Synthesis found themselves in the vibrant world of "Kamen Rider Zi-O." The air was charged with the energy of time itself, as if the very fabric of reality was at their fingertips. They had received a distress signal from Tsukuyomi, a mysterious figure caught in the throes of a battle against the Time Jackers.

Sadboi gasped, "Oh my gah!" she was doing her best to rein in her excitement.

"What's wrong?" Keito asked, his eyes darting around the unfamiliar surroundings.

"Look!" Sadboi pointed to a flash of light in the distance. "That's gotta be something rider-y yesyes! Perhaps its the watch king himself!" Of course, her phrasing was intentionally silly to accentuate the absurdity a bit.

The group exchanged puzzled glances, except for Tsukasa Kadoya, who knew what she was on about already. He had been here once before, aiding Sougo Tokiwa on his adventures and to pass on the heisei rider legacy.

"You know, I've heard of this place," Sento mused, his gaze following the streak of light that had caught Sadboi's attention. "But I've never had the chance to visit."

"Of course, this series is the one after yours in terms of air date." Sadboi happily explained.

"Ah, I see," Sento nodded. "Well, let's go and offer our help."

The Guardians raced towards the light, their hearts beating with excitement and a touch of apprehension. As they approached, the figure grew more distinct: a Kamen Rider, her armor shimmering with the essence of time. It was indeed Tsukuyomi, and she was not alone. The Time Jackers had amassed an army, their malicious intent to control the flow of history palpable in the very air they breathed.

Sadboi's eyeholes sparkled a bit, she knew that Tsukuyomi had a Kamen Rider form, but to see it in person was something else entirely. Tsukasa chuckled to himself, it seems that the coolness factor would never wear off on the blue cubehead.

"Welcome to the world of Kamen Rider Zi-O!" Tsukasa exclaimed, raising his hand up in greeting as the group touched down.

Sadboi's vibesense tingled with the energy of the new environment. She looked around, taking in the neon lights and futuristic architecture that surrounded them. The Time Jackers had transformed the once-vibrant city into a twisted shadow of its former self, with their mechanical monstrosities patrolling the streets, enforcing their tyrannical rule. "We're here to help, Tsukuyomi!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with determination.

The French Narrator, ever the composed leader, surveyed the scene before speaking, "We must first understand the situation fully before we act. What do we know of these Time Jackers?"

Tsukasa's eyes grew serious. "They're a group of interdimensional beings who aim to rewrite history for their own benefit. They've already corrupted several Riders' powers. If we don't stop them, they could reshape the very fabric of time itself."

Keito Hiroshi, Kamen Rider Synthetix, stepped forward, his vibesense flaring up in response to the negative emotions emanating from the Time Jackers' minions. "We need to find the source of their power," he said, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the task at hand.

Sadboi nodded, "And perhaps, with our own unique riders, we could really throw them off their game!" Sadboi gave a nonverbal acknowledgement to Keito, Yomotsuhi, and The French Narrator.

However, there were some questions that were scratching at the back at Sadboi's mind: she hadn't seen Sougo, Geiz, or Woz anywhere, or felt their vibes. If Tsukuyomi was alone to defend, then something must've happened. Her silent, yet sudden, change in demeanor from excited fangirl to contemplative quiet cube hadn't gone unnoticed by some of the other Guardians, particularly Tsukasa, who was in-tune with Sadboi's willingness to explain things in her usual way.

The French Narrator, noticing Sadboi's shift in emotions, asked, "Ma chère Sadboi, tout à fait à la hauteur de la situation ?" (My dear Sadboi, are you okay with this situation?).

Sadboi spoke quite bluntly, "I haven't sensed the other Zi-O riders' vibes yet. It's strange, considering we haven't encountered the main three riders yet and only Tsukuyomi, yesyes?"

The French Narrator nodded in understanding, "C'est très bizarre, en effet. Nous devrions peut-être les chercher avant de confronter les Time Jackers." (That is indeed odd. Perhaps we should look for them before confronting the Time Jackers).

Sadboi nodded, the specifics lost on her but the point received nonetheless. "Yesyes! We must ensure their status before we deal with the Time Jackers!"

The French Narrator, ever the tactician, began to lay out a plan. "We will split into teams to cover more ground. Keito and I will investigate the Time Jackers' base, while the rest of you search for the other riders. Remember, discretion is key in this unfamiliar world."

And so the group split up. Sadboi and Yomotsuhi was with Tsukasa and Tsukuyomi, their mission to locate the other Kamen Riders. They scoured the city, their eyes peeled for any signs of trouble or the distinct aura that Kamen Riders usually gave off. Tsukasa, the local expert, led them through the streets of the futuristic world, pointing out landmarks from his own adventures. The neon lights reflected off the wet pavement, casting a vivid glow on their faces. The sounds of the bustling city were a stark contrast to the eerie silence of the pizzeria they had just left. Sadboi used her knowledge of the series to try pinpointing any sort of clues, and Tsukuyomi helped her with the finer details, knowing that she had missed some episodes due to her nomadic lifestyle.

As they moved deeper into the city, a sudden, high-pitched screech echoed through the air, making all of them jump. "What was that?" Sadboi asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and concern. Tsukasa's expression grew grim. "That's the sound of Another Rider," he said, gripping his Decadriver. "They're getting desperate." Sadboi shivered, she knew of the Another Riders, but didn't completely have all the details on them, but she definently knew that they were bad news.

The French Narrator, who had been quietly observing the city from a nearby rooftop, swooped down with a dramatic flair. "Mes amis," he announced, "I believe I have found a trace of our comrades." He pointed to the distant horizon where the silhouettes of several figures were moving swiftly. "Let us not tarry! Time waits for no one, and neither do those who wish to manipulate it!" The group nodded in agreement, and together, they dashed towards the source of the commotion.

As they approached, the figures came into focus, revealing themselves to be a group of Another Riders, each wielding a twisted version of a familiar Rider's power. The clanging of their metallic weapons grew louder, and their malicious laughter sent shivers down Sadboi's spine. The French Narrator took a moment to appreciate the gravity of the situation, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of the impending battle. "Ah, the plot thickens," he mused, "like a fine French onion soup."

Sadboi's eyeholes narrowed at the sight. "Well, looks like we've found the monsters of the week," she quipped, trying to ease the tension. Keito's vibesense was tingling, and not in a good way. The negative energy emanating from the Another Riders was palpable, almost tangible.

"Now then, let us show them what we're made of, and perhaps find a way to purge the AnotherWatches from their system. After all, our main mission is peace with some very interesting and spicy methods." Sadboi said, her voice filled with determination. Her blue coloring shifted slightly, hinting at the underlying tension she felt. "Transform! Synthesis style!"

With a flash of light and the sound of pixels assembling, Sadboi's form shifted into Kamen Rider Syntech, her sweatshirt now a part of her armor, the hood fluttering behind her. The French Narrator transformed into his Kamen Rider Dolphin form, his narrative powers swirling around him like a whirlpool. Keito's transformation into Kamen Rider Synthetix was a symphony of emotions, his armor pulsing with a fiery red energy as he took his place beside her. Yomotsuhi's sequence was quieter, his Kamen Rider Requiem form appearing as if he had been plucked straight from the stars.

The team approached the Another Riders with a mix of caution and confidence. The city streets of the "Kamen Rider Zi-O" world were eerily silent, the neon lights casting long shadows as they moved closer to the source of the distress signal. Each step echoed through the emptiness, building the tension like a crescendo in a suspenseful soundtrack.

"I can feel them," Keito whispered, his vibesense on high alert. "Their pain is… intense."

The group of Another Riders emerged from an alleyway, their distorted forms a grim reflection of the heroes they had once been. The sight was disturbing, a stark reminder of the corruption they had faced in their travels.

"Let's get this over with," Tsukuyomi said, her voice firm.

Sadboi nodded, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene. The Another Riders were a sad sight, twisted by the power of the AnotherWatches. Their once vibrant armor now cracked and faded, their eyes cold and lifeless. "We've seen this before," she murmured, her vibesense tingling with the heavy aura of despair. "But we're going to fix them. We're the Guardians of Synthesis, remember?"

The French Narrator, ever the strategist, suggested they proceed with caution. "These beings are not our enemies, but the embodiment of fear and anger. We must approach with a clear mind and an open heart, seeking to understand and heal rather than destroy." His words resonated with the team, reminding them of their core mission.

Keito, as Kamen Rider Synthetix, stepped forward, his red streaks of energy pulsing in time with the rapid beating of his heart. His vibesense was a tumultuous symphony of pain and confusion, but he focused on the underlying thread of hope that bound the Another Riders to their true selves. "We're here to help," he called out, his voice a mix of power and empathy. Sadboi was also using her vibesense to pull out whatever humanity she may find within the Another Riders.

The leader of the pack, a twisted version of Kamen Rider Build, took a step towards them, the AnotherWatch on his wrist glinting maliciously. The French Narrator, as Kamen Rider Dolphin, raised his hand, and a glowing blue orb of narrative power formed around him. "We're not here to fight," he announced in a clear, steady voice. "But we won't stand for the destruction of your world."

The Another Riders paused, their movements jerky and unpredictable. The one that resembled Kamen Rider Zi-O spoke up, its voice a garbled mess of static and malice. "You don't understand," it spat out. "This is our fate. The cycle must continue."

Sadboi in her Kamen Rider Syntech form took a step forward, her eyes peeking out of the clear visor with a look of solemn resolve. "Fate is just a story we tell ourselves," she said, her voice calm yet firm. "And we're here to rewrite that story. After all, I beleive that our lives are not predestined. We exist, for better or worse and for a reason that might not be real, but we should make the most of the time we have."

The French Narrator nodded in agreement, his Kamen Rider Dolphin form radiating a soothing aura. "The narrative of despair shall not prevail," he declared in French, the words floating in the air for a moment before translating themselves into the corrupted Riders' language. "We are the Guardians of Synthesis, and we bring harmony to all worlds we touch."

The Another Riders exchanged confused glances, their corruption momentarily faltering in the face of the unyielding unity before them. Keito's vibesense grew stronger, allowing him to feel the flicker of hope within their twisted forms. He stepped up beside Sadboi, his Kamen Rider Synthetix form pulsating with a mix of anger and empathy. "You don't have to be a part of this," he shouted, extending a hand to the Kamen Rider Zi-O lookalike. "We can help you break free!"

Another Zi-O snarled, its eyes flashing with a frenzied light. "Free?" it echoed, its voice crackling. "This is our purpose! To serve the will of the Great Time-Space Ruler!"

Sadboi's eyeholes narrowed under the Syntech helmet. She knew who they were talking about. "But who's to say that's what it is? You can't really call it 'your' purpose if someone else says it so. They could be wrong, for all you know." Her training sessions with Yomotsuhi had taught her something, as she turned her anxious thinking into a pretty good argument.

The Another Riders paused, their malicious intentions visibly wavering. The French Narrator, as Kamen Rider Dolphin, took this moment to leap into action. He created a sonic blast from his wrist, the sound waves resonating with the corrupted Riders and disrupting their synchronization with the Great Time-Space Ruler's will. The air crackled with potential as the vibrant hues of the Guardians' suits danced in the fading light of the sunset.

"We're not here to fight you," the French Narrator declared in a firm but calm voice. "We're here to show you that you have the power to choose your own path. To find harmony within yourselves and the world around you."

The corrupted Kamen Riders staggered back, their eyes flickering with uncertainty. The French Narrator's words had hit home, and the echo of his vibesense washed over them, weakening the chains of fate that had bound them. One by one, they began to shed their malicious aura, revealing the fractured souls within.

Sento Kiryu, the original Kamen Rider Build, watched from the sidelines, his own emotions a tumultuous storm. Seeing his doppelgängers in such a state stirred a deep sadness within him. He stepped forward, his voice filled with determination. "You don't have to be pawns in someone else's game," he said, his hand reaching for his Build Driver. "We all have the power to choose our destiny. Let us help you remember who you truly are."

Sadboi nodded, "Yesyes, let's show them the way." Her voice was one of earnest belief in her friends' words, her own eyes reflecting the soft glow of her vibesense. The group approached the bewildered Another Riders, their movements deliberate and non-threatening. The corrupted Kamen Riders looked at each other, their forms flickering as the alien code that had once controlled them began to falter.

Amidst the chaos, a soft meow caught everyone's attention. They turned to see Purrloin, the once-stolen Pokémon they had rescued, standing confidently beside them. Its blue eyes gleamed with intelligence and a hint of mischief. "I've been watching," Purrloin said in a voice that seemed to resonate with the very fabric of the digital world. "You're fighting for something important. Maybe it's time we all had a chance to choose our battles."

The Another Riders looked at Purrloin with surprise, their confusion growing. The idea of choice was something that had been taken from them, and the concept was as foreign as the language they now heard from this small, feline creature. But as they heard the meow echo in their hearts, they felt a glimmer of hope. The French Narrator stepped closer, his dolphin-themed visor reflecting the neon lights of the city. "We are the Guardians of Synthesis," he announced. "And we stand for unity and freedom. Join us, and together we can break the chains of fate that have ensnared you."

Sadboi looked at the feline, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, what he said," she added, her voice a mix of excitement and nerves. "You guys aren't just pawns in some game. You can make your own decisions." The corrupted Riders exchanged glances, their digital forms flickering as if trying to remember who they truly were. Keito, still in his Synthetix form, approached one of them, extending a hand. "We're not here to fight," he assured them. "We're here to help."

The Another Riders stared at Keito's outstretched hand, the silence thick with tension. One by one, their forms began to waver, the dark energy that had corrupted them slowly dissipating. As they regained control, their original appearances emerged from the shadowy pixels, revealing themselves as Riders from various eras of the Kamen Rider franchise. They looked around, bewildered, as the reality of their situation set in. The French Narrator, now back in his human form, offered a gentle smile. "You are not alone," he said, switching to English for their benefit. "We are all lost souls in this vast multiverse, but together, we can find our place."

Sadboi nodded, but her mind was drawn to the still missing Sougo, Geiz, and Woz. "I have a feeling that we need to find them before we can truly free everyone," she murmured, her pastel blue form shifting to a concerned hue.

Keito's vibesense grew stronger as he focused on the lingering corruption. "They're here, but… different," he said, his voice tight with concentration. "Their essences are blended with something… more powerful."

The group exchanged worried glances. "We must find them quickly," urged Sento Kiryu, the original Kamen Rider Build. "If they're fused with that dark force, we may not be able to save them without a fight."

The French Narrator raised an eyebrow. "Or perhaps," he began, his eyes twinkling with curiosity, "we may find a way to communicate, to understand why they've chosen this path."

The Guardians of Synthesis, now a diverse band of heroes from various dimensions, decided to split into two teams. One would continue searching for the missing Riders, while the other would keep an eye on the newly restored Another Riders. Sadboi, feeling a strange kinship with the lost, took the lead on the search party alongside Keito and Sento.

They ventured deeper into the digital maze, each step echoing through the eerily quiet corridors of the game world. The air was thick with a mix of hope and despair, the remnants of the corrupted Riders' turmoil. Keito's vibesense grew stronger with every step, leading them through a labyrinth of code and forgotten memories. Suddenly, they stumbled upon a chamber that pulsed with an unsettling energy. At the center stood Sougo, Geiz, and Woz, fused into a single, monstrous form. Their eyes glowed with a neon pink light that seemed to pierce through the digital darkness.

Sadboi's heart sank as she took in the sight. "Guys?" she called out tentatively, her voice a mix of hope and fear. The fused being turned to face them, and the chamber trembled with the force of its attention. "We're here to help," she continued, raising her hands in a peaceful gesture. "You don't have to do this."

The creature roared, a cacophony of the Riders' voices, distorted and pained. It lunged at the trio, its limbs extending into a whirlwind of chaotic pixels. The Guardians leaped into action, their synergized powers weaving together seamlessly. Keito's vibesense allowed him to predict the creature's movements, while Sadboi's Element of Synthesis allowed her to manipulate the very fabric of the digital world. Sento, drawing on his knowledge of Kamen Rider lore, coordinated their attacks with precision.

The battle was intense, a dance of light and shadow played out in the realm of pixels. The corrupted essences of the Riders clashed with the pure intentions of the Guardians, the air crackling with unseen forces. Sadboi's Element of Synthesis shimmered around her, allowing her to navigate the digital landscape with ease, while Keito's vibesense painted a vivid picture of their enemy's emotional state.

"We must separate them!" Sento shouted, dodging a flurry of pixelated strikes. "Their power is too much for us to handle as one!"

Keito nodded, focusing his vibesense on the frayed connections between the three Riders. He could feel their individual consciousnesses, trapped and screaming for release. With a deep breath, he let out a pulse of pure empathy, reaching out to each of them through the chaos. "Sadboi, cover me!"

Sadboi responded instantly, her eyes flashing pink as she sent a wave of calming energy to shield Keito. He took advantage of the momentary respite to dive into the digital maelstrom, searching for a weakness. His hand touched the nexus of power, and he felt the corrupted Riders' fear and anger wash over him. But beneath it all, a flicker of hope remained.

With a fierce cry, Keito yanked at the threads of corruption, tearing them apart. The creature shuddered, and the three Riders stumbled out of the light, panting and disoriented. "Thank you," Sougo murmured, his eyes clearing. "We were… lost."

The French Narrator, who had been observing the battle from a safe distance, floated over to them. "Mon amis," he began in his soothing French accent, "the Great Time-Space Ruler's influence is waning. But we must remain vigilant. There is still much to be done."

Sadboi nodded solemnly, her cubehead glowing a gentle blue. "You're right. We've got to keep moving forward." She turned to the restored Riders, who were slowly regaining their bearings. "Are you guys okay?"

Geiz looked up at her with a mix of relief and determination. "We are now. Thank you for saving us."

Woz, ever the strategist, began to analyze the situation. "The corruption spreads through the timeline. We must track its source and eliminate it before it causes any more harm."

The group agreed, and they set off once more through the digital labyrinth. As they journeyed deeper, the walls began to warp and change, reflecting moments from various media universes. They saw glimpses of battles from "Dragon Ball Z," the tranquil landscapes of "Rain World," and the eerie corridors of "Bendy and the Ink Machine."

"Looks like we're getting closer," Sadboi murmured as the walls shifted to reveal a chamber bathed in an unsettling mix of pastel colors and dark energy. The corrupted Riders' voices grew louder, a cacophony of despair and anger.

"We must stay strong," the French Narrator said firmly. "Our bond is our shield, and our empathy, our sword."

The chamber opened up before them, and they stepped into a scene from a nightmare. The Great Time-Space Ruler loomed over a twisted, crying form, its tentacles wrapped around a shivering Kamen Rider. The rider's armor was a mix of all the Riders they had encountered, a perverse amalgamation of power.

"What have you done to him?" Keito demanded, his vibesense flaring with rage.

The Ruler turned, revealing a grotesque visage of a cubehead, twisted and malformed. It laughed, a sound that chilled the air. "You think you can stop me? I am the embodiment of your fears, your insecurities, and your darkest moments!"

The Guardians exchanged glances, knowing that this was a challenge they couldn't face alone. They had to stand as one to save the corrupted Rider and restore balance to the multiverse.

With a collective shout of determination, they transformed. The French Narrator's armor shimmered with the essence of the sea, Sento's form became a masterpiece of mechanical ingenuity, Keito's armor blazed with fiery passion, and Sadboi's suit grew brighter, the neon pink of her vibesense pulsing in time with her heartbeat.

They charged forward as a united front, each Rider drawing upon their unique abilities and the power of their allies. The battle was fierce, a clash of light and dark, hope and despair. But through it all, they never lost sight of their goal: to save their comrades and protect the fabric of reality.

As they fought, the corrupted Rider began to stir, its eyes flickering with recognition. The Guardians could feel their collective will resonating within it, breaking through the layers of corruption. With a final, desperate push, they managed to free the Rider, who stood up, eyes clear and determined.

"Thank you," the Rider said, its voice a harmony of the three they had come to know. "I am whole again."

The Great Time-Space Ruler howled in fury, but it was too late. The corrupted energy was dissipating, and with it, its hold on the timeline. The digital world around them started to crumble, and the Guardians knew that their time here was limited.

"We must leave!" Sento yelled. "The timeline is collapsing!"

The group didn't need any further urging. They formed a tight circle around the freed Rider and held hands, their Elements of Harmony pulsing in sync. As the world fell apart around them, they leaped into the void, ready to face whatever universe awaited them next.

And so, the Guardians of Synthesis continued their journey through the vast tapestry of the media multiverse, leaving their mark on each world they visited and forging bonds that transcended time and space. Their story was far from over, but they faced each new challenge with courage and unity, a beacon of hope in a cosmos fraught with darkness and chaos.

[not-mary-sue]

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