#providence the profaned goddess

[ghostlyfirn]

DAY 9 OF CRINGETOBER!!!!!!! crossover ship.

featuring Providence (Terraria Calamity Mod), Zero Two (Kirby), and The Radiance (Hollow knight)

me and friends have dubbed them the Evil Lesbian Polycule.

being of darkness x The Fucking Sun x some sorta mix/balance of both light and dark. idfk. but one thing for sure is there's Purifying Flames

[tiso-heart]

little thing ive been working on

[shantiyen]

Two more Calamity bosses for the pile! posing worms is hard

[thefirebirb2]

I decided to draw Providence from Terraria Calamity mod 🔥🔥

I love Providence, she is so fun to draw :3

[corrupted-ciphers]

This October, (I forgot I had a tumblr account, first of all) but I decided for a drawtober, I wanted to do mine monster themed, so I did a Monstober prompt list. You can check my list here, I'll just be posting the pics here.

Day 25: Sacred.

Featuring Providence the Profaned Goddess from Terraria Calamity Mod.

[nedayisonline]

...Whose temple are we in again?

[gimblerthe]

New and improved Providence sheet. I'm going to need to formally study how to draw muscles (or at least shoulders and arms) for Providence and Aetia especially. A few other characters have them as well, but not to the extent of those two bozos.

Don't pay attention to the red hair green-eyed one, that's irrelevant haha... (lying, it's very much relevant.)

[sunlit-art]

...and Providence to match Radiance.

this took 26 hours and 13 minutes! (my second longest piece is 9 hours 48 minutes) I don't even play Terraria, let alone Calamity! (my friends do though) (play?? more like suffer. dm mm ftw moment)

Mad respect for Calamity spriters because the level of detail on Providence is insane!!

(22 July 2023)

bonuses below the cut

no fireballs

master mode

[ficarcheologist]

୧ ⊹₊ ⋆ between us 💭 feyd rautha

WARNINGS ⁞ smut, 18+, profanity, innuendo, afab reader, she/her pronouns

OPs NOTES ⁞ a/n: from an anon request. just a fun lil drabble // Summary: Feyd gives you a gift that you won't soon forget, proving nothing will come between the two of you.

MY NOTES ⁞ This is not my work. If you are the owner of this work and would like it taken down, please provide proof of ownership and I will take it down/redirect where necessary! Link to the fic reblogged on one of my other side blogs.

It’s late when Feyd finally comes to your shared bedchamber. His days have grown longer ever since taking up the title of Baron. He resents that it takes him away from you. You’re the only thing that’s ever made him truly happy. But this burden is his honor and his duty as his uncle’s chosen heir. Though he spends so many hours away from you, he always makes sure to return to your bed and only yours every night. He had his fun with his concubines, memories that he looks back on with fondness, but now? He can’t imagine being with anyone but you. His pets have fallen to the wayside ever since the first time he had you. 

Nothing and no one else could ever satisfy him the way you do.

Feyd expects you to come running into his arms, embracing him as you always do. He is a cold man, bloodthirsty and cruel, but your love and affection softens him. He frowns when he opens the door and sees you standing at the balcony, wearing your nightgown. The moon lights up your skin, making you look like some sort of ethereal goddess. He approaches you, moving your hair off your shoulder to press a kiss to the soft skin of your neck. You’re so lost in thought that you don’t even notice.

He turns you around to face him, hands cupping your face as he questions, “What troubles you?”

As if waking from a trance, you blink, meeting his gaze with a melancholy smile, “Nothing, my lord. Everything is fine.”

Your answer comes a moment too quickly and Feyd shakes his head, “I know you well enough to know when you’re lying to me.”

You pause before sighing, “Promise you won’t make fun of me?”

The way you ask is so endearing that he can’t help but nod, “I promise.”

“One of your… Concubines…” It’s as if you struggle to say the word, your innocence bringing a smile to his face as he forces himself to hold back a chuckle, “One of them approached me and…” You shake your head, cutting yourself off, “Never mind. You’ll think it’s stupid.”

Feyd narrows his eyes, gripping your chin in his hand, squeezing slightly, “Tell me.”

You gaze up at him through your lashes, the sight of which has never failed to make his heart, which he once thought to be nonexistent, melt, “She said a weak little thing like me could never satisfy you the way the three of them did. That you’ll grow bored of me and come back to them. That you don’t…”

The way your breath hitches, tears pooling in your eyes…

Rage fills your husband, fire in his veins, “That I don’t what, little one?”

“That you don’t love me. That you never will,” comes your anguished whisper. Feyd lets out an animalistic growl, baring his teeth in a snarl. “Feyd, please don’t be angry with me, I shouldn’t have said anything-”

He quickly realizes that you’ve mistaken his anger as being directed toward you and loosens his grip, shaking his head though his expression is still furious, “I’m not angry at you. I would never be angry at you. You are the only one who brings any sense of calm into my life, little one. You are my wife. I chose you.”

He releases you from his grip, stalking past you toward the door. 

Your lips part in surprise as you stare after him, confused, “My lord?”

Feyd pauses, turning to look at you, pulling his dagger from its sheath, gritting his teeth, “I have to take care of something, my love. I’ll return soon.”

“FEYD?!”

His grin is bloody at the sound of your shriek, the heads of his three concubines thrown at your feet. Feyd chuckles as you scramble backward on the bed, staring at the disembodied heads with shock. He crawls over your body, feeling pleased when you calm at his touch, your hands resting on his cheeks, still stained with blood. He traces your lips with his thumb, watching as your eyes flutter shut at his touch.

“I will never let anyone come between us, little one,” he rasps, pressing his lips to your jaws, the blood of his concubines staining your skin, “Never. You are the one I love, the one I chose. I never went to see them after I took you as my own because I know their touch could never satisfy my lust, my love the way yours can.”

You kiss him, your legs parting to accommodate his frame as his tongue moves against your own. He’s eager tonight, you muse, feeling the bulge in his pants pressing against you. He moves your underwear to the side, fingers stroking at your slit, a wicked smile on his face.

“Seeing your lord husband painted in blood made you so wet,” Feyd whispers, “It seems my little wife isn’t so innocent after all.”

You bite back a smile as he spreads your thighs, mouthing at your wet cunt. And when you close your eyes, your head falling back against your pillow, he lands a slap against your center. A reminder that if you don’t keep your eyes locked on him, what he’s doing to you, he won’t allow you to reach your peak. He moans, pulling you in close, burying his face between your legs, inhaling your scent as he continues lapping at your folds like a man starved. Your fingers twist in the silken bedsheets, losing yourself in the pleasure he gives you, reaching your peak against his tongue, pulling him into another kiss as he crawls over you.

“No woman could ever taste as sweet, mewl my name so perfectly,” he vows, slipping his pants down to reveal his pale cock, already achingly hard, leaking from the tip, “It’s only you, my love. No one will ever come between us. Not even death.”

Your legs wrap around his waist, feeling him rut against you, his cock brushing against your sweet spot every time he slams back into you, your nails raking down the pale skin of his back, leaving an angry red trail in their wake. Feyd bites down hard on your neck, hard enough to draw blood and leave a mark. You take his hand, bringing it to your throat, and Feyd immediately knows what you wish of him. He squeezes, restricting your airflow, smirking at the way it makes your body tense, your peak quickly approaching once again. Your eyes roll back as he spills himself inside you, his hot seed filling you.

Perhaps you seemed a sweet, unassuming little thing to your husband’s former lovers. But they didn’t realize that the longer you spent with him, the more your tastes began to mirror those of your husband.

He presses his lips to yours in a kiss, uncharacteristically gentle and yet still so very passionate as he vows to you once again, “I love you. Nothing will ever come between us.”

You grin, moving to lay on top of him, raking your nails down his chest as you whisper, feeling his cock already beginning to twitch against your thigh, “I believe you, my husband.”

Feyd chuckles, hands moving to palm at the flesh of your ass, groaning slightly as you continue your ministrations, clearly not wanting tonight’s fun to be through, “What a greedy little monster I’ve made of you, little one.”

[droppingartintotheinfinite]

Having now reached home after reading Camus’ essay (“The Myth of Sisyphus”) in class, I am still filled with rage.

Albert Camus presents an interpretation of Sisyphus’ myth that I find myself utterly incapable of reacting to with any emotion other than blind, vicious loathing towards every paragraph, every sentence, every individual word with which he presents his argument.

To call it an argument is, perhaps, generous. That would require a clarity of intent that this essay seems unwilling to provide. The final line, the thesis statement, the phrase his conclusion rests upon…

“One must imagine Sisyphus happy.”

…Is a line that sounds deep and meaningful only until you actually pay attention to what the essay is about, under the flowery prose and mythological inaccuracy.

The thesis of the essay, though some room must be left for differences of interpretation, is one of the inherent futility and absurdity of life. In the eyes of Camus, we are all Sisyphus, doomed to forever push our own boulders up our own hills, and happiness can come only from making peace with this.

To be frank, it’s just not a very good metaphor. You can dress it up all you like — use poetic language and colorful metaphor, repurpose the trappings of ancient myth for modern ideal — the banality of the underlying meaning remains unchanged.

The usage of Sisyphus for this essay is something I find both unnecessary and actively contrary to the intended takeaway of the piece.

As we all know, all western intellectuals must present their arguments with extensive references to Greece or Rome, lest they become too accessible to the wider masses, those uncultured heathens with their roots in other traditions. As I am unfortunately guilty of this habit myself, let us continue to work within the trappings of Greek myth.

Why Sisyphus, specifically?

Camus is forced to recontextualize or outright alter significant portions of Sisyphus myth in order to present a story that could plausibly end with “One must imagine Sisyphus happy.”

Why not use Arachne, condemned for daring to compare herself to a goddess? Surely, one must imagine her happy, weaving now as much as she could ever want to, her punishment granting her freedom to do what she loves forever.

Why not Medusa? One must imagine her happy, given the tools to ensure no man will ever touch her without consent ever again. (Though, of course, I’m sure we’re all familiar with how that ends, though Perseus was little more than the weapon the gods used to end Medusa’s hard-won peace.)

Why not Persephone, if we’re allowed to use the interpretations that suit our goals? One must imagine her escape from her mother’s watchful and overbearing gaze, finding her freedom at last as she bites into the pomegranate. Her marriage to Hades is perhaps the most stable marriage of any on Olympus. Certainly, one must imagine Persephone happy.

Camus’ thesis on Sisyphus is one of acceptance towards pointless misery. He proposes that Sisyphus, rolling his boulder up a hill for eternity, must eventually learn to find joy in his labor.

And honestly? Fuck that.

Profanity, perhaps, is not considered acceptable in the intellectual context, but is this essay not about the toil of the masses? Surely the language of the proletariat must be considered appropriate when theirs are the struggles we discuss.

Thus, allow me to say: “The Myth of Sisyphus” by Albert Camus is pseudointellectual horseshit. It is a turd adorned in gold leaf, a meaningless, bullshit idea with no true substance to it.

To put it bluntly, Camus is full of shit.

By using Sisyphus specifically, in place of any other figure, he posits suffering and toil as inescapable aspects of life. He says we are all Sisyphus, and we all have a boulder, and we all must push it forever.

To push this ideal, he lobotomizes Sisyphus as a character. The actual myth (as opposed to the hollow, gutted corpse of it Camus parades about) presents Sisyphus as a trickster. He repeatedly schemes to avoid death, from conspiring with his wife for her to bury him without a coin to cross the river, allowing him to elicit Persephone’s sympathy and gain a stay of execution, to binding Thanatos himself when the reaper comes knocking. There is no point where he intends to go to the underworld peacefully — unlike what Camus presents, it was not that Sisyphus intended to accept his death and was simply too in love with the world to let it go, but rather that he refused to, point blank, and was willing to do whatever it took to avoid the underworld.

Though the original myth is one of hubris and the futility of defying the gods, it is certainly easy to reimagine Sisyphus as a hero, unwilling to bow to the harsh and often unreasonable edicts of the divine.

But to imagine him happy with his lot, content to push that boulder up the hill for eternity, is to imagine a Sisyphus who has utterly given up on everything that makes him himself, a Sisyphus who has utterly lost the conviction, the determination, the sheer undiluted refusal to bow that defines him.

One could imagine, perhaps, Sisyphus giving up on the gods’ empty promises and walking away from the rock to find his own way out. But to imagine Sisyphus happy to suffer for no benefit until the end of time itself?

Camus posits a world where happiness can only be found when you give up on things ever getting better. He posits a world where your only option is to say: “Welp! My life sure sucks! Guess this is completely inescapable and will never change at all!”

Camus posits a world where we have no agency in our own lives, and tells us we must imagine ourselves happy with this.

Suffering is inevitable, yes, but there is absolutely nothing requiring us to declare that every misery we suffer is inescapable, that every poor hand we’re dealt is one we ought to just accept, that every injustice we face leaves us with no recourse but to smile and turn the other cheek.

We are told as children that life isn’t fair, and this is true. It isn’t, it never has been, and it likely never will be.

But that doesn’t mean it can’t be more fair in the future than it is now, and it doesn’t mean our only choice is to give up on demanding better.

[deb-1106]

Serendipity

Part 3

Written for @choicesflashfics - Week 33

Prompt 3  — “Say that again … I don’t think I heard you right the first time.”

Book: TRR/OPH

Pairings: Drake Walker x Ava Matheson, Bryce Lahela x Charlie Hawkins

Word count: 2500

Rating: M

TW: Profanity, Suggestive language

A/N: This is a collaboration between myself and @walkerismychoice using the weekly prompts provided by @choicesflashfics As always if you want on or off the tag list, just let me know.

“So you’re laying out clothes for me now?”  Drake eyed the crisp, white button down shirt and freshly pressed tan pants that had magically appeared on the bed while he was in the shower.

Ava gave him a dazzling smile.  “Just a suggestion.  But if you’d rather wear a pair of your ratty old jeans and one of those sad, threadbare flannel shirts you love so much…I can’t stop you.”

“My clothes have been good enough for dinner with the fucking King and Queen…” He muttered under his breath, “but I guess they don’t quite cut it for dinner with Ken and Barbie.” 

He picked up the shirt and inspected the tag. 

Fucking Armani. She wasn’t messing around tonight.

Ava poked her head out of the bathroom, eyeliner pencil still in hand, “Did you say something?” 

“Just wondering why we have to get so dressed up for a casual dinner date with your new bestie and her boy toy.” 

Ava rolled her eyes.  “First…he’s not some boy toy.  He’s a very accomplished surgeon who just saved your life.” She chided gently, “So maybe keep that in mind before mocking him. Second, it’s just a new shirt and a pair of pants for goodness sake.” She flashed him a cheeky smile, “I’m saving the tuxedo I bought you for our second dinner date with them.

“Assuming there IS one, you better be kidding.”

Ava shrugged before ducking back into the bathroom.

“I still think this is fucking weird.”  He shouted to her retreating back, “Who the hell makes friends with their doctor for fuck sake?  Isn’t that some kind of HIPAA violation?”

Silence from the bathroom.  Ava either didn’t hear him, or she was pretending she didn’t.

“Swear to God…” Drake grumbled, “if he mentions how good-looking he is even once tonight, I’ll show him my surgical skills…with a fucking butter knife.”  

Drake grabbed a pair of boxer briefs out of his top drawer and slid them on before getting dressed.

He glanced into the mirror and nodded. He hated to admit it, but he looked pretty damn good in designer duds, if he did say so himself.  

Leaning in closer, he raked his damp hair back and fleetingly wished he’d gotten it cut this afternoon.

Just then, Ava emerged through the bathroom door.

Their eyes met in the mirror and she smiled.  Drake felt his stomach do a little flip as he watched her cross the room toward him, her pale yellow sundress floating around her legs, her ponytail brushing the tops of her tanned shoulders and the alluring scent of fresh Gardenia perfuming the air with every step she took.

She’s a goddamn Goddess.  How did I get so lucky? 

Ava sidled up behind him, sliding her arms around his waist.

“See.” She cooed, as her admiring gaze traveled over him from head to toe. She pressed into him, the heat of her breath on his ear making the hairs on the back of Drake’s neck stand to attention as the sensation of her breasts rubbing against his back made other parts of his body do the same. 

“You look hot.” She whispered in his ear.

“You think so?” He turned around and pulled her into his arms, making sure she could feel what she’d just done to him.  “Am I as hot as pretty boy?”

Ava bit back a smile as she reached out to smooth the fabric of Drake's shirt over his broad shoulders, and down his tightly muscled arms, being mindful not to jostle his injured arm too much.

“Not gonna lie… Bryce is reeaaally attractive.”

Drake’s brow furrowed. “Say that again … I don’t think I heard you right the first time.”

Ava smirked. “Oh, I think you heard me…I mean, did you see that smile…” 

“Yeah.  I’m pretty sure NASA classified it as a new constellation.” Drake unwrapped her arms from his waist. “Actually, if this whole surgeon thing doesn’t work out, he could always get a job as a lighthouse.”

Ava laughed and grabbed his wrists, pulling him back to her.  She leaned into his chest, savoring the heat of his skin through the light fabric. She let out a soft sigh as she tilted her head up to meet his eyes. 

“You’re no pretty boy, Drake Walker. ” She murmured, as she ran her hands over his chest, biting her lip seductively. “You're my rugged, sexy, gorgeous, hunk of a man that I love with every fiber of my being.” She looped one arm around his neck, pulling him down for a lingering kiss laced with promise. “And if you behave yourself … when we get home tonight, I’ll show you just how irresistible I find you.”

“Yeah?” One corner of Drake’s mouth curled upward.  “Out of curiosity, just how well-behaved are we talking here? Like, for instance…if I were to casually mention you’re in the market for a stripper for your bachelorette party and ask if he’d consider dusting off his banana hammock for one last grind against the pole…would you consider that bad behavior, or simply a friendly exchange of lighthearted banter between friends?”

“You wouldn’t DARE.”

 Drake gave her a slow, panty-dropping grin. “New plan.  How about you ensure my good behavior at dinner, by skipping straight to the ‘not being able to resist me’ portion of the night?”

Ava smiled up at him, momentarily losing herself in the burning intensity of his gaze before getting a hold of herself and gently pushing him away.

“No can do, Loverboy. We’re running late as it is.  They’re probably already at the restaurant waiting for us.”

Drake sighed and grabbed his keys off the dresser. “Come on, then.   The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get home and finish what you started.”

—

Bryce rushed through his and Charlie’s apartment door, unsurprisingly late after a complicated surgery. The best thing about being with another hospital physician was that they just got it. He knew Charlie wouldn't be upset that he didn’t get home when expected, although he did get five text requests for a status update in the last hour or so. 

Bryce could hear the shower running in the master bath as he approached. As tempting as it was to hop in and join Charlie, he'd already taken a shower after changing out of his surgical scrubs. He slowly and quietly pushed open the bathroom door, leaning against the frame to watch and thinking he should be thankful the landlords chose glass shower doors over a curtain. Bryce knew Charlie could be self-conscious about her body, what with growing up surrounded by people who could afford to buy the body they desired if they couldn’t attain it naturally, but to him, she was perfection. Her well-proportioned curves were in all the right places, and what Charlie described as an average body was anything but. He tried to keep his arousal at bay as her soapy hands skimmed over her ample breasts and then down and around to her flawless backside. Soft and round, yet firm at the same time, Charlie’s ass was Bryce’s favorite part, but before he could dwell on it, she turned to grab her conditioner.

“Ahhh!” Charlie screamed as the bottle slipped and crashed to the shower floor. “You scared me! Why didn’t you say you were here instead of just gawking at me like an idiot?”

Bryce shrugged. “It’s a better show when you don’t know I’m watching.”

“Well, show’s over, pal. If you want a chance to see any more of this…” Charlie waved a hand over her body, “you better get ready so we’re not late for dinner.”

Bryce chuckled as he headed to his walk-in closet. Charlie was by no means high-maintenance, but she also wasn’t the jump out of the shower and go type either. He’d be dressed and ready to go long before she had her hair and makeup done. He threw on a nicer pair of dark jeans and a lightweight gray pullover he thought would be fitting for the venue. Although Ava and Drake associated with royals, they, or more specifically Drake, didn't seem like the type to be impressed by fancy dinners and material things. Not that he cared much about impressing Drake anyway with as unpleasant as he'd been in the hospital. However, Charlie really liked Ava, and judging someone solely based on their disposition after a traumatic gunshot wound wasn't completely fair. Plus Bryce had been somewhat of a cocky asshole in defense, so he probably owed Drake another chance.

Inspecting his defined jawline in the mirror, Bryce determined his five o’clock stubble to be more sexy-casual than unkempt mess and didn’t bother shaving. He ran a little pomade through his hair with his fingers and it magically fell into place like it always seemed to do. In the span of no more than five minutes, he was ready, and Charlie was just barely out of the shower.

The hum of the hair dryer told Bryce he still had plenty of time, so he powered-up his playstation to relax for a bit. Engrossed in his game, he had no idea how much time had passed when Charlie emerged from the bedroom.

“Hurry up!” She snapped. “We need to leave now!”

“Just let me save this.” Bryce powered down the machine and glanced up at Charlie which rendered him momentarily speechless. Yes, they’d been dating close to two years, but it seemed most of that time was in hospital scrubs. Seeing her dressed up always felt like the first time, and today, with her loose curls, flowy white floral mini dress, and strappy heels, was no exception.

"Come here." Bryce stood and pulled Charlie in by the waist. "Are you sure you don't want to cancel on them and order in?" He lightly trailed a finger up her inner thigh.

She pushed him away and laughed. "Stop trying to seduce me. You're too damn good at it. You're even wearing that cologne that reminds me of…you know. You really aren't playing fair, but I shall resist. She plucked the keys off the hook by the door and tossed them to Bryce. "Let's go!"

___

Thanks to Drake’s lead foot and aptitude for navigating the serpentine back roads of Cordonia, they arrived at the restaurant right on time.  Drake was surprised - pleasantly surprised by the choice.  Rather than a pretentious fine-dining establishment, which Drake presumed would appeal to the young successful doctors, they had instead chosen a quaint, unassuming tavern.  

As Ava predicted, Charlie and Bryce were seated at a table, waiting for them.  Ava squeezed Drake’s hand.  “Remember. Play nice.” 

“I know the stakes.” He gave her his most disarming smile. “Now let's go break bread with our new best friends.”  

As they approached the table, Bryce rose from his seat.  As Charlie and Ava embraced and began gushing over each other's outfits, Bryce turned to Drake with that big, goofy grin of his and offered his hand.

His handshake was surprisingly firm, Drake noted with satisfaction. Nothing he hated more than a limp handshake.  

So at least there was that.

Once the girls broke apart, Charlie smiled warmly at Drake and he smiled back. “Nice to see you again, Charlie.” 

He extended his hand toward her, with every intention of giving her a friendly handshake, but as he watched  Dr. Touchy McFeely pull Ava into a tight hug,  his and Charlie’s handshake somehow morphed into a half shake, half hug that was fully awkward as fuck.

Drake sighed and sat down, only to feel like even more of an ass as Bryce pulled out Ava’s chair for her.

Shit.  I guess bailing on those stupid ‘comportment’ lessons all those years ago is finally biting me in the ass.

He met Ava’s eyes across the table and she gave him a sweet smile before turning her full attention to Charlie.

Shit.  

Drake scanned the room, trying to catch the eye of a server.  He needed a drink STAT.

 “So Drake.” Bryce’s cheerful voice momentarily pulled Drake's attention from his search.  “How’s the shoulder?”

“Huh?” Drake just caught sight of a waiter passing by with a tray full of drinks.

“The shoulder.” Bryce repeated, tapping a long slender finger against his own scapula, “How’s it feeling?  Any residual pain?”

“No.” Drake shook his head slowly, “Nope. No pain.  All good.” 

“Good.” Bryce nodded. “Yeah, well … glad to hear it.”

“Yup.”

The two men sat in an awkward silence as the girls chatted away, oblivious to the tension on the other side of the table.

“So …uh…” Drake cleared his throat, “You like being a doctor?”

Even as the question left his lips, he recognized how idiotic it was.  Thankfully their server chose that moment to materialize, saving Bryce from having to answer.

“Good Evening, I’m Brian and I'll be your server tonight.”

Drake opened his mouth, but before he could utter a word, Brian placed a tumbler of amber liquid in front of him, and another in front of Bryce.

“Now ladies, can I get you started with a beverage?”

“Charlie said you were a whiskey man.” Bryce explained, “So I took the liberty…I hope you don’t mind.”

Mind? Drake thought to himself, Hell, right now I want to kiss you right on that pretty little mouth of yours.

But what he actually said was… “Thanks man.  Appreciate it.”

Drake took a deep swallow, savoring the deep oaky flavor and subtle heat as it hit the back of his throat.

Suddenly, his brow shot up in surprise. “Wait.  Is this…” “Macallan 15." Bryce supplied helpfully, “I wasn’t sure what you drank, but this has always been one of my favorites.” He paused, “Actually, I prefer the 18 year, but this was what they had so…”

“No. This is great.” Drake said quickly, giving Bryce his first true smile of the evening, “You can’t ever go wrong with Macallan.”

Bryce grinned back at him.  “Cheers to that!”

They both raised their glasses.

“So Bryce.” Drake leaned back in his chair, having decided that this night might not be a total bust afterall, “Ava tells me you play a bit of Basketball."

Bryce took a sip of whiskey and nodded, “Yeah, I played some in college, but now I play just for fun.  Do you play?”

“Yeah, I mean, not in college.  Soccer was my game back then.  But we have an indoor court at the palace and that's what we do to unwind between shifts.” 

“Between shifts?  You work at the palace?  I thought you just lived there.”

“Yeah. I uh…” Drake hesitated, not sure how much he really wanted to divulge.  Talking about his job didn’t usually make for light-hearted dinner conversation.

But Bryce asked…

“I’m not actually living there at the moment.” Drake confessed, “Things with Liam are a little…uh…strained right now.” without thinking, he sent a cautious look in Ava’s direction, “But I do still work there.  I’m Kingsguard.”

“Kingsguard.” Bryce repeated before letting out a low whistle and leaning back in his chair.  “So throwing yourself in front of bullets is all in a day's work for you.” 

“Hardly.” Drake chuckled as he finished off his glass.  Bryce immediately signaled for two more. “But if it meant saving her…” Drake glanced over at Ava, and as if sensing his eyes on her, she looked up and smiled. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect her.”

"Aww!" Charlie interjected, although Drake wondered how she managed to overhear when neither woman even paused to take a breath in their own conversation. "I think this one's a keeper, Ava."

Ava reached her left hand across the table to squeeze Drake’s. "He is." 

Charlie's eyes went wide. "Ava!" She grasped Ava's hand and pulled it closer to inspect. "Is this ring what I think it is?"

Ava beamed and glanced at Drake before turning back to Charlie. "We wanted to tell you and Bryce together in person, but yes it is. We're engaged!"

[ghostlyfirn]

prvidence with slightly more effort but also not as much effort because im TIRED!!!!!!!!!!

[tiso-heart]

got too silly

[tirsynni]

Okay, so thoughts on the Legend of Zelda and religion, inspired by gameplay and seeing how people incorporate the multiple goddesses and such into their fics.

Usual disclaimer applies: these are only my random thoughts, which are open to change, and Legend of Zelda canon is deliberately inconsistent and definitely apt to change. Everyone is free to interpret it however they want with whatever headcanons they want, as no one can ever be truly correct because no solid LoZ canon exists.

Now, onto really random thoughts, most occurring in the shower or before bedtime:

In some Zelda games, no gods are mentioned at all. Others, they're very vague. Others say some deities and then another provides a different deity and some others reference that this being was perhaps a deity but has fallen and this one might STILL be a deity so good luck.

I like to say that they're all fucking deities. Maybe some more powerful than others, but they're all deities. Some divine, some profane, some really interested in carrot soup, but all are deities.

Demise? A deity. Earth-based, unholy, so full of rage and spite that he's willing to guarantee an eternal foe as long as it means that foe is dragged into this mess with him, aka, the Cycle of Hatred. Strange affection for mortal Gerudo men, whether these guys like it or not.

The Triad: Farore, Nayru, and Din. They created Hyrule, created the Triforce, still have a Presence connected to their Creation as shown by the oracles and spirits and such which have popped up over the centuries. Definitely separate, though. Loves their Creation in a divine, untouched manner. Set up a lesser Goddess to protect their Creation and the Triforce they left behind, which leads us to...

Hylia. Before it was Hyrule, it was the Land of Hylia. Divine. A little too Divine. Needed mortal weapons and mortal Heroes to kill the Earth-based deity Demise. Here are my headcanons on her based on the ever-erratic canon and the Skyward Sword manga: she realized she couldn't win alone and needed a mortal Hero. Again, a little too heavenly to tackle an earth-based deity like Demise. I like imagining her falling for the original Hero, which was one of the factors which led her to having the Fallen Hero reincarnated as the Hero in Skyward Sword. They were supposed to live a mortal lifetime together, albeit one where Hylia used him to fight Demise for the Greater Good, as deities like to do, only for Demise to say "Fuck that, here's the Cycle of Hatred." From then on, she loses her Mortal Love, as the Cycle of Hatred says "the Spirit of the Hero and the Bloodline of the Goddess" (paraphrased). When SS!Zelda dies, Hylia returns to the Heavens, her bloodline continues to carry her blood, and she gets separated because the Spirit of the Hero is now trapped by the Curse. (I like angst, dammit, and that type of eternal separation, especially multiple carriers of the Hero's Spirit are unfamiliar with Hylia, is amazing.)

Other deities pop up in the games. I say they're all deities. These games literally occur over hundreds of thousands of years. Hyrule has risen and fallen and risen and fallen multiple times. It literally exists only due to divine intervention. Hyrule and its people have no idea of their own history and myths. The ones we see in the games are the ones popular in that current era.

There's also the fact that we tend to see everything through Link's perspective, and he seems far more interested in shiny objects and, I dunno, riding/taming/bargaining with the spirits than finding out their histories.

In one era, we don't see mention of the Triad? That generation lost sight of them, but they're reminded a couple generations down the line. Hylia isn't mentioned? She'll come up again soon enough. There's also no indication that any of these deities demand worship. They can be responsive to prayers, but the connection to the deities waver over time, too. Like, how does a human's connection compare to a Hylian's? Humans and Hylians are different species and can generally be recognized by the ears, with the ears of the Hylians supposedly shaped that way to better hear the deities.

Link can hear and respond to the deities, but it's arguable that it's connected to his role as Hero. They need mortal hands to get things done, and he is damned good at getting shit done and not likely to be distracted by, I dunno, a literal god asking him to do shit. Yes, yes, that deity gave him a request. He heard. He understood. It still needs to wait until he found all of these cuccos and returned them home.

More headcanon: it's known that the Royal Family has divine blood and rule by Divine Right. The meaning of this changes depending on the era. For some, it just means Princess Zelda is magical and wise. For others, she is a literal incarnation of the Goddess. The one most likely to speak with the deities and spirits -- Link -- is probably never going to clarify to anyone how it is. Hell, he's probably never going to care enough to ask.

Most eras have no idea about the Spirit of the Hero. Link's either a random hero who just popped up or a strange traveler. Sometimes he is a Prophesied Hero. Sometimes he is a Divine Weapon. Beyond his ability to be a fucking godslayer when necessary, I think it's easy for him to be dismissed. It's made easier when Link's like, "I'm out. I'll leave you guys to fix this rubble. Oh, what happened here? Hell if I know. Good luck." Connecting him to a Spirit which is literally older than Hyrule? Not happening. In OoT, he's recognized as Special and a Hero by a very rare few; otherwise, Link's just a traveler or that weird kid. In BotW, it's pretty clear that King Rhoam views him as just a holy weapon. In BotW, there's no indication that he even really speaks or looks at Link at all until he's a fucking ghost and unliving with regret. No elevation. Barely any notice. Just Link or Nameless Traveler.

In a land as old as Hyrule where deities like to traverse and poke, it's easy to imagine many deities calling it home at least for a period of time. Hell, maybe they don't even call it home but mess with the local deities at some point or another. Also considering how many apocalypses this land has experienced, it's easy to imagine that they can't have a consistent mythology or religion. It changes each era based on texts and art which survived the last round of destruction. Hell, even their major secret-keepers, the Sheikah, regularly struggle with attempted genocide. It's amazing anything survives with any sort of consistency, nonetheless knowledge about a war which existed before Hyrule itself did.

[violetmoondaughter]

The eye

The eye symbol was used since antiquity as an apotropaic talisman to protect from evil spirits. Eye is associated with vision, clarity and with the experience of the sensible world and the underworld.

The symbol is also associated to knowledge, in ancient Greece it was related to the Glaukopis Athena, the goddess of wisdom and her association with the birds of prey such as Owls, Crows and Seagulls. The glimmering eye that can see and perceive things from this world and from the other and that is always watching and judging. In ancient Greece this concept was also used in ritual mask such as the Gorgoneion or the primeval representations of the divine presence of Dionysus. Traditional talismans such as the Nazar and the Mati probably took its origins from these ancient traditions or even from previous Mesopotamian origins. Eyes were depicted on vases, temples doors, ships, and charms to protect humans from negative energies such as the evil eye, the envious gaze, and malevolent spirits.

In ancient Egypt the eye symbol was depicted as the two specular eyes of Horus and Ra and represented well-being, healing, and protection. Egyptian texts say that Horus's right eye was the sun and his left eye the moon. The symbol was connected with the myth of the conflict between Horus and his uncle Set in which his rival tore out one of Horus's eyes and the eye was subsequently returned to Horus with the assistance of the god Thoth. Horus subsequently offered the eye to his deceased father Osiris, and its revitalizing power sustained Osiris in the afterlife.

The right eye, the solar eye was also called the Wedjat and represented the eye of Ra. This eye was seen as a feminine extension of the god, a Goddess with both protective and destructive powers representing the benevolent and damaging energy of the sun. It is also equated with the red light that appears before sunrise, and with the morning star that precedes and signals the sun's arrival. The power of this goddess stands in the representation of the womb in which the sun god enters at sunset, impregnating her and setting the stage for his rebirth at sunrise. Consequently, the eye, as womb and mother of the child form of Ra, is also the consort of the adult Ra. This goddess is sometimes associated with feline and reptile form goddesses like Hathor and Sekhmet and with the Uraeus symbol, the cobra. These totemic animals incarnate the ferocious and protective energy of the dark feminine and, in the myths, the Wedjat is often used as a protecting or destructive weapon by the Sun god.

In German mythology the god Odin sacrificed his eye to obtain knowledge becoming the wisest god and achieving the magical knowledge. The sacrifice of the eye represents the loss of the vision in order to obtain an enhanced perception. The God exchanged a profane mode of perception, for a sacred mode of perception informed by divine, ancestral wisdom. In this case the eye symbolize once again wisdom and Odin is also associated with birds of prey and psychopomp birds such as ravens and their magical abilities to perceive and move through the veils of the worlds.

In many oriental religious traditions, the eye of wisdom is depicted by the Third eye, a mystical invisible eye, located on the forehead, which provides perception beyond ordinary sight. The third eye refers to the gate that leads to the inner realms and spaces of higher consciousness. In spirituality, the third eye often symbolizes a state of enlightenment. It often associated with religious visions, clairvoyance, the ability to observe chakras and auras, precognition, and out-of-body experiences.

Eye also recalls to the female breast and to the egg cell symbolizing the portal of life, the ancestral creative energy, and its protection power. In modern days the eye symbol is still used as a protection amulet representing the ability of seeing through things, the mystical knowledge, and warding power against evil.

[corrupted-ciphers]

A couple of my human ocs for the Calamity Terraria Mod. They’re a pair of fraternal twins from the jungle. 

Cassio, on the left, follows the plague and thinks it’s the future of the world. Goes by She/Her, though eventually becomes fully converted to a plague and becomes Haemophilia, then goes by they/them.

Envio, on the right, is a devote follower of Providence, the Profaned Goddess. He loves his goddess and would do anything for her. Goes by He/Him.

The twins don’t see eye to eye, and grew apart over the years due to their ideological differences.