#the-faithless-hero

[cryingincrocs]

I'm almost done with the ciapi oneshots!! (* ´ ▽ ` *)

Its going to be tough juggling writing, drawing and my homework especially as we near midterms. And also because I'm getting into working on my piece for my class' exhibition. Fun fact animation and film are both a lot of work!

But what I'm saying is that I'm certainly going to try! Making fanworks is always a favorite passtime of mine but it takes a lot of self control not to prioritize it lol

ANYWAYS

two oneshots coming soon!

[p3ach3snplums]

♪𝙇𝙪𝙠𝙚 𝘾𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙣

Personaje canon | 16-20s | Bisexual | saga de Percy Jackson | nacido en Westport Connecticut | semidios hijo de Hermes | reside en Nueva York - Campamento Mestizo | personaje abierto | fc: Jake Abel

♪the true hero of olympus | luke castellan

[thatcerealkiller]

The Hero of Baldur’s Gate

Jergal’s Champion

C0mmission with Tav Angelus

For @thatcerealkiller

[theribbajack]

"Both of you, faithless fools who would dare to take up arms against the king of earth and sky!"

The words "Zonai Ganondorf" entered my head and I haven't been sane since. Perhaps in the Zonai version of the legend, the warlord "Gannon" sought after the secret stones, and the incarnation of Hylia draconified herself to stop him alongside the Ancient Hero.

[little-lynx]

underneath my scars

My only one My smoking gun My eclipsed sun This has broken me down

My twisted knife My sleepless night My winless fight This has frozen my ground*

———

But what you did was just as dark Darling, this was just as hard As when they pulled me apart*

———

You knew the hero died so what's the movie for?*

———

Stood on the cliffside screaming, "Give me a reason" Your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in Don't want no other shade of blue but you No other sadness in the world would do*

Hoax by Taylor Swift

[anonymityisfunwriter]

It's me, hi, I'm surprised you haven't written a fic inspired by "Tolerate It" yet, it's me.

it's me, hi! will you guys ever get tired of my scheming bc i'm honestly so surprised, too! seeing tolerate it live was life changing and i'm not even being dramatic about it. but i think everyone agrees, it needed to be done (okay, i promise i'm done with the anti hero references). it must be exhausting always rooting for this author (okay, now i'm done) thank you for the ask and i hope you enjoy! 💛

tolerate it.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader summary: you tolerate his faithless love as much as he tolerates you.

Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist | Anon's 1K Celebration

you sit and watch him. he reads with his head low, you're almost positive he doesn't even realize you're here.

you're a ghost to him.

he sees right through you.

you lift your hand to the flickering chandelier hanging above the table. you half expect to see right through your skin. all you see is his mother's ring, the ring that promised forever and always. it never once occurred to you that forever would look like this.

you look to the mirror behind bucky. you touch your cheek. you feel the warmth of your cheeks. you see the flush of your flesh in the dim light. you're still there. you're not a ghost. so why does it feel like you're haunting him?

you weren't sure when it happened. how it happened. from one day to the next. or a slow trickle as his cup ran over. perhaps a bursting dam.

your forever didn't always look like this. you were sure of it. this wasn't the man you made your mural, your temple, your sky. this wasn't the man you built your life around.

he's perfect for you. he was perfect for you. in a world of boys, he was the gentleman you yearned for.

he took you away from it all. he laid blankets over your barbed wire. he pulled you closer to him even at your worst. he was your fairytale ending. you were so sure of it.

he loved you. he loves you, you correct yourself.

you tried to be as perfect as he was. as he is, you correct yourself again, as perfect as he is.

you polish plates until they shine like his eyes once did. you lay the table with your fanciest plates each and every night. you wait by the door for him every night, you don't mind if he's an hour or three late, you greet him with a battle hero's welcome either way.

you look at his dinner plate, nearly finished with his meal. you look down at yours, you've barely touched any of your meal. he doesn't notice. your untouched meal. the fancy plates. the plate settings. the candles you light for him each and every night. the dinner you spent hours on.

he used to love it. he used to tell you how much he loved the home you built from an empty, withered house.

he used to love you, too.

"what would you do?" you ask in a breathless whisper.

he finally looks up at you, "huh?"

"if i wasn’t here," you calmly muse, swiping your wine off the table. "if i didn’t wait on you hand and foot. if i didn’t lay the table with the fancy shit each and every night. if i set myself free."

"i could do it, you know? i could do it!" you angrily cry, the frustration of a lifetime of being tolerate bursts forth. you stand up, your chair smacking the wall behind you, smashing your wedding china on the ground as your chest heaves with desperation. you trail around the table, lowering yourself to his eye level, "i could leave you and find someone who does more than tolerate me! i bear the weight of you, the weight of us, i could lose it! i can!"

he sits there, gaping at you.

"tell me... tell me it's in my head," your voice softens, your anger melting into desperate pleas to him, "tell me that we can fix this. tell me you love me."

but you don't say any of that.

after all, it's all in your head.

you've got it all wrong. he loves you. he'll love you night after night. and you'll sit and watch him night after night. this is your forever. he is your forever. he is your mural, your temple, your sky.

you'll use your best colors for his portrait for the rest of your life. you'll never allow yourself to see him as anything other than your savior. he'll be nothing less than the man you worship. you'll never be left empty as long as you hold on to your blind faith. your own personal false god.

you clear your throat, smiling in a chagrined, loving manner, "i said, how did you like dinner?"

"it was fine."

and you do. you'll sit before him, wondering how he can't see you breaking before him.

you tolerate it as much as he tolerates you.

that's all you do. it's all you can do.

you sit and watch him.

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist Bucky Barnes Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams @shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes@beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a

[griffonsong]

not realistic mayhap but the image of battlefield Sten going "Kadan your latest letter was delightful it reminded me of this plant of Seheron I must tell you about" while in the same breath trying to pin the HoF to the ground with his sword lives rent free in my head

i love the potential dynamic the HoF can have with Sten after he's become Arishok. it's like yeah we disagree on everything from politics religion culture etc and if we ever came into conflict neither of us could morally back down, so we'd have to kill each other if we met on the battlefield, BUT. i respect that, and i love you

[magnoliasandarson]

gods of gotham- apollo

In the songs and stories, the nature of Apollo was generally agreed upon as vapid, self-serving, womanizing, performative, and endlessly bright. Farmers, doctors, and scholars alike prayed at his altars. But there is an oft-forgotten truth hidden amongst the gilt—Phoebus Apollo’s light not only shone but burned.

The people sang odes to his beauty, to his mercy, to his power. The faithful wrote hymns and poems describing his epic deeds; the wrongs righted through his wisdom- the glory of the sun god. Fanciful artists sculpted his form- the lithe frame and the smile. He was beloved, for how could he not be? A beacon of truth, light, and hope. And yet…

Crops withered under his gaze, plagues spread on his whims, arrows struck down the faithless and villainous, cities burned with his rage, and entire civilizations trembled at his fury. Let them write him off as a peaceful god; let them forget who saw Achilles struck down; let them forget the creation of disease. Let them write him off as a merciful god; let them forget who slew the beast sent to harm his mother; let them forget why he carried a bow. 

In Gotham and Blüdhaven, the nature of Nightwing was well-known and well-loved. The cheerful, performative, endlessly bright, and eternally heroic. Civilians and first responders alike knew that his presence meant safety and hope. But there are truths unuttered and ignored about the blue-crested hero- Nightwing’s light not only shone but burned.

In the streets, people spoke of his mega-watt smile, the way his suit conformed to his muscled frame and his unending good humor. Other heroes called on him when in need and spoke fondly of his brightness and honorable nature. Graffiti artists painted his symbols in alleys and on train cars. He was beloved, for how could he not be? A beacon of justice, light, and hope. But…

Bones shattered under his fists, buildings turned to ash heaps, electric shocks made the villainous fall to their knees, criminal enterprises burned with his fire, and entire planets grew to fear him. Let them write him off as the peaceful vigilante; let them forget who killed the Joker; let them forget who allowed Blockbuster to die without blinking. Let them write him off as the merciful vigilante; let them forget the way hunted his parents’ killer; let them forget his escrima sticks had a lethal setting.

Welcome back, Apollo- your people have missed you.

In Greece and Gotham,  when screams echoed through the air and the warriors and wounded alike prayed for salvation, a glimmering grin appeared in the shadows. After the blood was shed and the flesh was burned, they would forget the brutality and praise his virtues. But words could no more change the nature of the sun than the clouds, for the light cannot exist without the blaze.

[theunvanquishedzims]

Okay, I'm making mummies the new monster du jour

We all know the story: daring adventurer and nerdy historian discover hidden treasure in a tomb, and just need to survive the undead and their curses long enough to douse themselves in holy water or whatever to sally off into the sunset with their bags of gold and live happily ever after.

What about the mummy's side?

You're dead. You've been dead for millennia, had your organs removed and rites read, been embalmed and dressed and laid to rest amid vast and well-appointed rooms chock-full of wealth. You strode into the afterlife like the king that you are, and have been reigning ever since. The river flows with milk and honey, eternal virgins attend your every physical desire, and your generosity knows no bounds as you shower endless wealth upon your adoring people.

And then...it stops. The river dries up, sour milk rotting in rivulets across the sticky bedrock. The maidens have vanished one by one, carried off by callous, disrespectful hands. The gold that once towered in piles around your palace disappeared much more quickly, not a single coin or ingot left. And your people turn on you. Not in anger, but in fear, hands clawing you, gaping mouths screaming soundlessly, bodies flattening and fading like living murals.

Anubis snatches you out of the waking nightmare, to something much worse: judgement. What? You have been judged already! Your heart weighed against a feather, the wisdom and love you so carefully curated in life keeping it light enough to guarantee your safe passage into an eternal paradise.

Except not so eternal, it seems. Robbers, he tells you. You cannot believe it. Even the bravest, most brazen, most despicably faithless dogs would not disturb your rest. Raid your tomb, yes, take your finery, yes, strip your body of its ornaments and peel the gold off the sarcophagus, perhaps, but not you. Your body in its wrappings, your organs in their jars, should be left alone. They could dump your empty bones on the floor of the pyramid and walk away with every material possession your people saw fit to entomb you with, but nothing of consequence would be taken from you in the afterlife.

They have not just taken your possessions, says Anubis. They have taken you.

Taken the sarcophagus? Surely they would remove your body to lighten the load--

They have taken you, he says.

Removed me to some lesser grave, to set up some new king in a glorious pyramid he himself could not afford to build? Tacky, and rude, but it has been done before--

They have taken you, he stresses again.

...have I fallen so far out of favor with my people, with Egypt herself, that they would strip me of my title and my rest?

Your god crouches, and looks you gently in the eyes, and says again, They have taken you.

And then he adds: You have ten days to return.

And you awake on a boat, a horrific thing of metal and smoke, surrounded by treasures packed in wooden crates and straw, admired by an endless parade of foreigners who ooh and ahh over your dead body and do not, cannot understand what they are costing you, making you their macabre trophy of the dullest hunt you can imagine.

You will teach them what a real hunt is.

(The rest of the movie is a timed horror-thriller as the hero, trapped in his own desiccated corpse, shambles around London trying to find his heart and return to Egypt, while attacked on all sides by monster hunters and grave robbers who don't understand that they're the bad guys. It is an epic struggle to stay the course and not fall into a vengeful frenzy, to keep his heart pure enough to pass the feather again, to FIND his heart in the first place.)

[false-guinevere]

Thinking about @liridi’s post months ago about Guinevere having to absolve men of their crimes and the horror of her story and @currentlycryingaboutlancelot’s recent post about Guinevere’s relationship with identity and it’s just… Being Guinevere really is being in a horror movie.

What are you but what the men around you want you to be? Are you Arthur’s loyal wife to support him or his disloyal wife to help absolve him of his own crimes? How much easier it is to blame her affair for Camelot’s fall then to look back at Arthur’s own actions.

An adoring lover to Lancelot to prop up his role as a romantic hero or a cruel lover to show just how faithful and selfless Lancelot is. A Good Woman there to absolve flawed knights of their crimes (against women) or a Bad Woman there for the other righteous knights to demean. A beautiful woman to desire but a faithless woman to hate.

What are you but a unit of measurement? Made to hype other women up or put them down in both morality and looks.

How can you know who you are as a person when everyone else has already decided for you?

And is it really a surprise when another Guinevere so easily takes your place?

[midnightsslut]

listening to hoax rn and what struck me about the chorus is that she is implying that this faithless love is the ‘reason’ she needs in order to stay on the cliffside instead of driving off (a parallel to this is me trying imo), yet the song makes it clear that this same thing has ‘frozen her ground,’ turned her into ash, killed the hero in the movie. in taylor’s own words, the song is about three different situations, and perhaps the only thing they have in common is that they all involve people she loved and let into her life (‘you knew the password so I let you in the door’) who ended up betraying her in a way that felt comparable to the greatest pain of her life. the difference is that the other two muses (a business situation and a ‘relationship that was like family’) are now out of her life, but she clings to this love as the one thing that keeps her going even if she has to resign herself to eternal sadness (‘don’t want no other shade of blue but you / no other sadness in the world would do’ —> ‘gray skies, every day, for months, would you still stay?). idk hoax is a lot of a lot.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Blood of the Hero Ch 14 (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)

Ch 14: Fallen Knight - Carnage

Abel hadn’t slept. The night crawled agonizingly along, leaving the former knight tossing and turning. Tilieth rested peacefully in the grass beside him, the tattered, half rotted wooden stall protected them from the mild drizzle. He stared between wood planks, eyes tracing the etches of jagged edges, noticing scorch marks from when the place burned.

When it was destroyed. In the Calamity.

It was stupid, really, how much it was sinking in lately. It wasn’t like Abel hadn’t been a firsthand witness to it. But lately… everything seemed to be wrong, and it drilled into his head. Perhaps it was the thought of separating from Tilieth, the idea that once they reached the Gerudo Desert he would continue on without his family in search of solutions. The anxiety and dread of it made him sick to his stomach.

You had promised, all those years ago, to protect your family. You swore in your knighting that you would protect Hyrule.

Yet here he was, lying in dirt, shivering in the chilly night, protected by the bones of what used to be one of the most vibrant stables in the country. Here he was, with his wife starving and shivering beside him, broken and terrified and alone. Here he was, his daughter dead, his son near to it, the latter’s state being entirely his fault.

He’d separated from the boy. He’d told him to take the princess to Fort Hateno. He’d promised to be there.

He’d been unable to protect the king. Link was the only one who managed to keep the princess safe when Abel was unable to do so.

His daughter was dead.

Abel’s entire life was flashing before his eyes. His mother died of grief over the loss of his father (why wasn’t I good enough? Why weren’t my sisters and I good enough for her to stay?). His younger sister never listened to him, had said he wasn’t their father, had accused him of pretending to know more than he did (she was right). His twin sister had settled in Castle Town, had been there when it had burned (I never even looked for a body, did I? Goddess, I didn’t even look for a body—) He had been given the highest honor by becoming a knight in the royal guard, had served as the captain, a trusted protector of the king and yet he’d been unable to do his duty (the ceiling had collapsed, I tried to protect him, I tried!). He’d sworn to take care of his family, to be there as a father, and—

Abel sat up, filled with energy, chest aching, blood racing. He stood, walking to the river, wanting to run, to fight something, to scream.

He stared up at the sky, breaths rapid and shallow, and asked, Farore, why did you make me? Why did you make me??

What was he even here for, if not to repeatedly screw everything up?! Even when Link had been given a fighting chance, Abel’s stupidity had ruined it - if it hadn’t been for him disturbing that hinox, this wouldn’t even be an issue! Link would still be safe in the Shrine of Resurrection, and—

Why did you make me?! What was the purpose?! I do nothing but cause problems, I can’t get it right, I can never get it right!

It was sacrilegious to even contemplate what thought came next, but Abel already knew he was a worthless, faithless fool anyway.

You made a mistake when you made me.

The drizzle continued to fall, slowly soaking him to his core. It was a splash of reality as he shivered and fell to his knees, a cold consolation in an empty world.

Wallowing in self pity won’t help them, he reminded himself. Slowly, he dragged himself back to the stall, trying to push the intrusive thoughts out, trying to ignore the berating. He was so damn tired.

The next day brought a heavy rainfall, and though the couple would have preferred to wait it out, anxieties drove them both forward. They didn’t dare bathe in the river – it was far too close to Central Hyrule for either of their liking. Instead, they barely ate breakfast, woke Link to drink some broth, and hastily made their way back to Kakariko.

As they passed through the half-barren marsh, the tower for Lanayru teased them with its proximity. Tilieth glanced at Abel with a shrug. “It’s practically on the way. We might as well activate it; maybe it could give us some helpful information.”

Abel doubted that was the case, but he didn’t argue; he himself had suggested going to the tower as a distraction yesterday. The pair cantered across the marsh, signs of life catching Abel’s eye as they went along. The marsh was slowly coming back, the rain bringing life as puddles formed amidst the mud and debris. Pieces of guardians were slowly washed away, and much more had probably already been removed over the last decade. He tried to take comfort in that.

When the pair reached the beach, Abel saw that the tower was on the other side, which was mildly problematic. This was becoming more involved than he wished it to be, but they were too far invested in it to turn back now.

Tilieth offered to cross, but Abel didn’t trust that the other side would be safe. He’d already surveyed the beach they were on and didn’t see any threats, so he asked her to stay behind instead, taking the slate and utilizing its runes to get across with little effort on his part. Meanwhile, Tilieth bathed herself and Link.

Abel hadn’t expected to find a person on the other side of the beach.

They both stood there in the sand for a moment, frozen in time. Abel felt his body stiffen, electricity firing through his muscles. The Hylian looked equally on edge, skin and bones, dark circles under his eyes, clothes ill fitting and half rotted off him. He jerked his body, reaching for something in an instant.

Abel grabbed his bow and arrow and shot true.

The Hylian grunted as the arrow sank into his chest, his sword that had been half drawn collapsing into the sand beside him. Abel remained motionless for a moment, his mind catching up to what his body had just done. The Hylian let out a gurgling breath and then grew still.

Abel released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and slowly lowered his arms.

The world was silent, save for water lapping on the shore. Abel couldn’t hear it. He couldn’t hear anything.

Swallowing, the former knight hesitantly walked towards the fallen Hylian. When he saw lifeless eyes staring off at nothing, he finally put his bow away.

The world came crashing back down on him an instant.

You just killed a man.

Well, he was clearly going to attack first!

You’re a knight. Your job is to defend the people of Hyrule. And you just killed one.

This wasn’t the first time he’d killed someone. It was ridiculous to let it bother him. Besides, he wasn’t a knight anymore.

At least check him for supplies.

Abel recoiled at the thought. He wasn’t going to defile the dead like that. He refused.

Taking a shaky step away, he started to head towards the Sheikah tower as if nothing had happened.

A gasp sounded, and Abel whirled, reaching for his bow and arrows yet again. He readied himself, but caught sight of a woman, a young Zora female who was watching him in horror.

“P-please!” She hastily said as she raised her hands. “I’m not even a warrior, I don’t mean any harm! I—I just came down here to find some fish, I—I promise I’m n-not a threat!”

Abel took in the sight of the Zora, memories flooding his mind of his time he’d spent in the Domain with Link. He recalled their princess, and his chest ached at the loss. The girl had been sweet and a strong warrior. She had also been the best healer in the kingdom.

Nevertheless, he didn’t lower his bow.

“P-please,” the Zora begged, beginning to cry. “I—you c-can even have my catch of the m-morning. I b-bet you’re hungry, right? You look it. Just—just please don’t hurt me.”

Abel’s gaze flicked across the river. He could vaguely see Tilieth and Link from here. If the Zora turned around and caught sight of them…

Abel. Stop. She even said she wasn’t a fighter.

Abel took another shaky breath, the adrenaline still fresh from his previous kill, paranoia heightened by the threat, blood rushing through his ears, deafening him to the rest of the world, silencing the woman’s whimpers. What difference did that make? The world had ended. Everyone was a fighter now.

“I-I’m—I’m just g-gonna put the fish down now, okay?” The Zora said shakily, hiccuping through her words, hands still held in the air. She carefully moved to reach for a net she’d been carrying, easing it to the ground.

Abel took a threatening step closer, arrow still fixed on her head, but he didn’t release it. The Zora practically scampered into the water, hands held high again as she told him over and over she wasn’t a threat, that she wasn’t going to hurt him. When she was half submerged into the water, he narrowed his eyes, motioning upstream with his head. The woman caught his meaning and quickly fled.

As he lowered his bow, Abel grew dizzy. He stumbled forward, picking up the net of fish, and slung it over his shoulder. The balance and the way the world spun made him nearly collapse into the sand, his stomach churning. He blinked once, twice, thrice to clear his head, shaking it so he could actually hear the world again, but it was still just his heart pounding.

A chirp caught his attention next, nearly making him draw his sword, when he realized it was the slate.

A shrine was nearby?

Focusing, Abel shook his head one last time, following the slate’s guidance until he neared the entrance to the Zora trail that led to the Domain. It was blocked by fallen rocks, a piece of half decayed guardian machinery squashed underneath. The shrine was just off to the left, uphill a ways.

How could he possibly bring Link over here after what had just happened? He needed to get back, to check on Tilieth! He’d just wandered off, they were out of sight now!

But the tower was right there too. He could see everything from the tower, including threats.

The area was clearly too dangerous, though. But he’d ensured there were no monsters on the other side before leaving his family.

But the threats over here hadn’t been monsters. What if there were Zora near his family?

Abel took another shaky breath, rushing back to the beach. He could still see Tilieth, who waved cheerily at him, clearly having completely missed everything that had transpired. She looked to be dressed now, sitting on the shore with Link.

Abel heard the water lapping. He heard the flapping of bird wings, the trickle as the rain settled into a lazy sprinkling. The world came back, and he tried to take a full breath.

The tower. Just get to the tower.

Thankfully it wasn’t hard to actually reach the tower. He had to rush across the bridge and scale the cliffside, but there were very few monsters around. He picked off a few lizalfos, a moblin, and a handful of bokoblins before reaching the top.

From the top of the tower, once activated, Abel could see a good portion of the region. Zora’s Domain was just beyond his range of vision, hidden in sparkling mountains laden with luminous stones. He remembered the festivals, the nights where those cliffs would practically glow. He remembered the giggles of children as Link played with his friends.

Looking away, Abel pushed at his pant legs, which had ridden up a little since they’d shortened in length from fraying over the years, and tucked them back into his boots. He squinted at the river, catching sight of Tilieth and Link, who were still relaxing on the beach. He couldn’t see any other shrines aside from the one he’d found. He wasn’t sure if that should make him feel better or worse.

Sighing, Abel grabbed the paraglider, took a deep breath, and jumped. He wondered, for the instant before his feet left the tower, if he was beginning to overcome his fear of heights. As soon as the sensation of weightlessness hit, as soon as he was in the air, he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as an unpleasant reminder that was not, in fact, the case. The adrenaline still lingering in his system, paired with the vertigo he felt at gliding through the air this high up, nearly made him let go of the paraglider entirely. Abel squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, and then shifted his weight, tilting the glider to aim for the beach across the water. Dully, he grumbled internally that he hadn’t always been this afraid of heights, and that it was a terrible time for it to manifest so badly.

Despite not wanting to look down, Abel managed to make it across the river, but his knees gave out the instant his feet touched the sand, and he face planted. He heard Tilieth call out to him and rush over, and he slowly pushed himself up, spitting out sand.

“Are you okay?” his wife asked, dropping down beside him.

Abel swallowed, not entirely capable of speaking, and nodded with a grunt. He sat on his legs for a moment, catching his breath, and then managed to say hoarsely, “There’s a shrine over there.”

“Oh! Really? Let me see.” Tilieth reached forward, taking the slate off Abel’s hip and glancing at it. The new information provided by the tower allowed her to survey the area, and she quickly found the shrine that was marked on it. “Oh, that’s not far at all! We can cross right here—”

“No,” Abel interrupted, remembering the body. He probably should have done something with it. Buried it? He should bury it, right? Show respect for the dead?

They didn’t have time for that.

“We’ll cross further upstream,” he finally muttered.

“Upstream…” Tilieth repeated as she peered at the map before gasping. “We’re close to the Zora!”

Abel spat out some more sand, rubbing his face. “Yes. And?”

“Sheik had said something about the Zora being hostile,” Tilieth said uncertainly, lowering the slate. “Why, though? They were allies to Hyrule. And… after all the effort you and that delegation put in…and the… the princess…”

Hostile? That woman he’d encountered hadn’t been. But what if she’d told her people, and they were coming here now?

After all the effort you and that delegation put in…

Abel bit back the bitterness of yet another failure, the pain and loss of the sweet princess who had been such dear friends with his son.

The point was that apparently the Zora were enemies now.

“We need to move quickly,” he surmised, finally standing and heading towards Link. “Start working on the pillars, please.”

Tilieth nodded, walking towards the water. The family made their way across as quickly as was feasible before Abel directed them towards the shrine.

However, once they entered, they did not receive the usual greeting.

“In the name of the Goddess Hylia, I offer this combat trial.”

“A combat trial?” Tilieth repeated worriedly.

Abel smiled, remembering the tutorial trial in Kakariko. Honestly, he was a little eager to get some energy out. He carefully lowered Link to the ground and headed into the large room. He figured he would test out the guardian weapon he’d taken from the last combat trial, alongside the Sheikah shield.

The tiny guardian was surprisingly easy to defeat. It telegraphed its moves so easily it was almost laughable. Abel was again, bitterly, reminded that these things had be designed to aid the people of Hyrule and its Hero. This little machine was here to train Link.

Instead, his boy was covered in wounds from its larger counterparts, near comatose and helpless.

Abel shook his head, finishing off the little guardian and trying to focus. He’d been far too morose lately. He had a mission to complete.

Goddess, he’d kill for some sleep, though.

The expression hitched in his mind, and he shook his head again. He turned and waved to Tilieth, signaling the all clear, before belatedly remembering he should go back to carry Link. Til, however, tried to carry the boy herself, dragging her feet into the arena while huffing and puffing a little.

Abel took pity on his wife, heart warmed at her attempt, and walked over to her. “Let me carry him, love.”

“No, I’ve got this,” Tilieth argued through a strained voice. “I have to be able to do this.”

I have to be able to do this if you’re going to leave me, was the unspoken sentiment. Abel felt his stomach crawl. He followed his wife silently, worries eating him alive. The couple retrieved a knight’s bow (how long had this been down here? Why was it designed similarly to their bows from ten years ago? Wasn’t this shrine ancient? Who else had accessed it, anyway? Why were there so many modern trinkets hidden down here?) and Link received the spirit orb, and they were transported outside.

Naturally, it was pouring. Abel shivered and quickly took Link in his arms to give Tilieth a break. He noticed the boy had little braids in his hair now, along the sides, before it was pulled back into the usual ponytail he wore. He supposed Tilieth had been enjoying herself on the beach. Link scrunched his face against the rain, clearly uncomfortable with the cold, and Abel looked around quickly to ascertain if it was wise to use the shrine for shelter until the rain let up.

Tilieth took the opportunity to look at the map. “I guess the best way to get to the desert would be going back through Kakariko? We could get one last respite in before the journey begins.”

Technically, the best path would be taking the road to the Riverside Stable, but that required going into Central Hyrule, which was out of the question. Not to mention the bridge leading there from the Wetlands Stable was destroyed, anyway.

No, Tilieth was right. The surest path was back through Kakariko.

“Let’s go,” he said quietly, carefully sliding down slick stone with Link in his arms. He didn’t want to linger.

When they reached the water, Tilieth hastened forward, grabbing Abel by the arm and shushing him. Abel looked at her, alarmed, wondering what she’d seen, watching as she crept forward. When he followed her line of sight, though, he saw some ducks waddling ahead on the shore.

“Really?” he whispered. “Right now? We’re about to go back into town, we don’t need to hunt.”

“Oh, I’m not hunting them, I just want to watch them,” Tilieth said lightly, a sweet smile pulling at her lips.

Abel bit back an exasperated reply. He’d already snapped at her yesterday. He wasn’t going to do it again. But they needed to move. He kept his mouth shut, watching his wife creep forward before talking briefly to the ducks, who quacked in response, eliciting giggles from Til. He tried to enjoy watching it. He really did.

“Til,” he finally said, unable to bear it any longer. “Link’s going to get cold.”

This snapped her out of her distraction, and Tilieth apologized worriedly as she started to create ice pillars. Abel let her place the harness on him before he positioned Link and strapped him in. The couple slid across the river, occasionally nearly toppling over with as slippery as it was, but they managed to make it to the beach and their horses. Abel thought they were finally in the clear when something else seemed to catch Tilieth’s eye (after she’d already snagged some dragonflies), and she pulled Epona in circles. Abel let Ama slow to a halt, watching his wife aimlessly ride in a dizzying pattern. At least the rain had stopped, but…

“What are you doing?” he asked, bewildered.

“There’s—there’s this—oh, I almost had it!” Tilieth huffed, pushing Epona to move faster and reaching down until she was halfway off the saddle. His wife was a good rider, so he wasn’t particularly concerned, but her behavior still made no sense. Link sneezed, distracting Abel, who tried to remember if they’d fed the boy or not (they did, right? They had to, right?), and he jostled the teenager and coaxed him to drink some broth while Tilieth still rode in a circle.

“Til—”

“I know, I’ll be quick!”

“Til, this is ridiculous, what are you even doing?”

“There’s a light!”

“There’s literally nothing.”

Til huffed, jumping off Epona entirely, making Abel tense up, and she pounced on something. “Got you!”

Abel stared as his wife, breathless, laughed giddily and reached out her hand and said thank you and then rose, looking triumphant.

Scrunching his nose, he surmised, “This is another one of those koroks, isn’t it?”

Tilieth nodded, cheeks flushed with cheer. Abel had to smile at her in reply, even though he felt that familiar helplessness. Not that he cared about collecting seeds, but it seemed in this avenue he was fairly useless. What if these magical creatures could help them somehow, and he was making himself a liability by not being able to see them? Why could Tilieth see them?

Sighing, Abel nudged Ama with his legs. “All finished?”

“Yes,” Tilieth said, satisfied, as she climbed back into Epona’s saddle. “Let’s get to the village. We should be able to get there by midafternoon, right?”

“Correct.”

At least, that would have been the plan, except Tilieth wanted to pick some herbs, and the slate started chirping that another shrine was nearby, leading them to a little sandbar with a shrine innocently sitting at its center. Abel stared, bemused, wondering if they’d somehow missed this one, as they had to have passed it, right?

No matter. Another shrine was another shrine. At least this one was close to the village.

“Ah, the soil is so fertile here,” Tilieth noted, and Abel had to agree as he nearly sank ankle deep into the earth. A few chus led to enough damage to the guardian blade that the ancient relic shattered, and Abel irritably switched weapons, grumbling about faulty Sheikah tech as he did so.

The shrine was fairly straightforward, leaping across driftwood to make it to the other side. The final part involved destroying bomb barrels at the right time to eliminate a wall (Abel did have to wonder at the efficacy of such a thing as the bombs were floating in the water, but he supposed they would find out). Tilieth found great pleasure in retrieving every treasure chest she could find, though, according to her, none could beat the one that contained the headband Abel wore.

“It’s too bad there aren’t more clothes,” she commented as Abel aimed at the barrels with a fire arrow. “Or at least materials to make some. Your clothes are a little tattered.”

Abel paused, glancing down at his attire. He wore what his wife had managed to patch together from fabric and clothes they’d found on the plateau, fashioning a warm doublet. The trousers he wore used to nearly fit him perfectly, but time and use had made them threadbare, riding up to nearly midway up his calf. His wife, on the other hand, wore an oversized green tunic that was practically a dress that went to her knees with a white undershirt, and the trousers she wore were made from the tattered remains of her dress she’d been wearing the day of the Calamity. Honestly, they both could use some new clothes, Abel supposed. He was at least grateful Tilieth had made some for Link. The boy was warmer and more protected in the Hylian tunic she’d fashioned. If only they could get the boy some shoes…

Tilieth built ice columns for them to stand on so Abel could aim better, but after three tries of missing lifting the barrels out of the water at the right time, his wife was clearly growing frustrated.

“Here,” Abel suggested gently, holding out his hand. “You’re a decent shot. I’ll make the column, you fire the arrow.”

Tilieth bit her lip uncertainly and then nodded. When Abel successfully timed the ice column, leaving the bomb barrel innocently waiting at its peak, Tilieth fired true with a fire arrow.

Link flinched at the ensuing explosion, sniffling, blinking his eyes open, but he settled back to sleep quickly.

“How did you get it?” Tilieth asked, obviously a little annoyed.

Abel smiled. “Because I’m more patient than you.”

His wife rolled her eyes exasperatedly, and the pair acquired the spirit orb. As they exited, Abel saw a familiar sight – the Riverside Stable, its framework splintering up towards the sky. That was definitely the stable he’d seen on their way to the Dueling Peaks. They’d… gotten a little off track with this other shrine.

“Which way back to Kakariko?” Tilieth questioned a little confusedly before gasping. “Abel, there’s another shrine over there!”

Abel glanced up at the sky. The sun was still high. They had time. “Let’s go.”

Surprisingly, Eagus Bridge was somehow still intact, though most of the protective siding was gone. But Abel realized something, almost too late, horribly, and he immediately blocked Tilieth’s path as they neared the next bridge.

“What?” Tilieth asked.

“This leads to Central Hyrule. The Riverside Stable is in Central Hyrule.” Abel emphasized. “We’re not going there.”

Tilieth looked torn, but also very clearly petrified.

Abel motioned with his head. “We need to get to the village.”

He was not risking his family for this. He would come later, without them, to ensure it was safe. Not that he was going to tell Tilieth that.

The smell of smoke scorched his nostrils, burned his lungs—

Abel shook his head, ridding himself of the memory, the sensation. He guided Epona and Ama ahead, holding Link more tightly.

The couple moved in silence, interrupted only by the rhythmic clomping of their steeds’ hooves. Thankfully it was an uneventful trek back to Kakariko. Their arrival caught everyone's attention, and Lady Impa moved towards them quickly.

“Any luck with the shrines?” she asked. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” Tilieth assured her with a smile. “We just need to pass through again to head for the—”

“Next destination,” Abel interrupted. He… didn’t want anyone to know where they were going. Not even the princess’ royal advisor. “We’ll stay here tonight. If that’s fine with you.”

“Of course,” Lady Impa acknowledged, her tone implying that it was obvious. Abel felt a little guilty at it, at her hesitancy and uncertainty as she looked at him. He’d never interacted with the woman much in the past, but a little voice in his mind did whisper that they were all on the same side. It sounded annoyingly like Tilieth.

Abel gently lowered Link from Ama, letting Tilieth take him and hobble over to a nearby cooking pot. He glanced towards the mountain pass once more.

He’d wait until nightfall to explore. The less fuss, the better.

Tilieth’s off-tune humming filled the air, making the former knight smile. His wife rocked back and forth where she sat, taking Link with her as he was settled on her lap. Abel took comfort in the gentle, warm cheer, watching as Tilieth started to chat aimlessly with the Sheikah chief.

“Where’s Sheik?” Tilieth asked. “I saw nearly everyone else. Oh, and how’s the little one and her mother? Mellie and Jummo, right?”

“They’re both doing great,” Lady Impa answered happily. “The plum trees we planted seem to be surviving too. This rain is certainly helping. As for Sheik, she left around the same time you two did.”

“Where did she go?”

“She’s… on a pilgrimage. She’s visiting all the sacred springs that Princess Zelda visited.”

Abel tuned out the rest of the conversation, simply watching Tilieth and Link. He sat on the stairs to the inn, leaning against a crate and feeling himself nod off. He supposed not sleeping was catching up to him. He shook his head to try and stay awake – he had to investigate Central Hyrule tonight, after all.

“Honey? You okay?”

Abel blinked again, and—when had the sun set so much? When had Tilieth moved to stand in front of him?

“Oh, Abel,” Tilieth said softly, placing a hand on his cheek. He reached up, letting his hand rest over hers to reassure her, eyes searching for Link as he confusedly tried to piece together what had just happened. “Honey, why don’t you get some sleep?”

Sleep? No, not yet. He’d just slept a little anyway, right? Time had passed.

“’m alright,” he slurred, not sounding convincing in the slightest. Damn it.

Tilieth’s eyes grew glassy with worry and unshed tears, and Abel felt even worse for it. Damn it.

Reaching forward, he pulled her close, letting her sit on his lap a moment as they held each other, and he kissed her just under her eyes, catching the tears as they fell. “I’m okay, love. I promise.”

Tilieth trembled in his arms, sniffling. “Abel, I just… it’s okay. Please, just rest. I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, holding her more tightly, willing all of his love and assurance into it. Please don’t worry. She had enough to worry about. He’d caused his wife enough problems lately. “I promise I’ll sleep later tonight, okay? I just… want to pray at the statue before bed.”

Tilieth perked up, and her expression was hard to read. His wife was naturally far more trusting than him, so he hoped the lie would work (and oh how he despised having to lie to her, but she’d never let him go if he said what he was planning on doing). However, Tilieth was not a fool – she knew Abel didn’t really pray anymore. Perhaps, once in a while, in the middle of the night, in desperation or loneliness, Abel would wander to the Temple of Time before this new journey had begun, but it had been rare.

It was hard to believe in the love of goddesses who would allow this to happen, after all.

His wife watched him silently, her brown eyes piercing into him in a way that reminded him of Link, searching for answers unspoken. Abel broke the spell, though, by leaning in and kissing her on the forehead, brushing curls away from her face.

That night, he ate in silence. He didn’t dare speak, he didn’t dare try to reassure her any more, he didn’t wish to lie any further. Tilieth seemed to gain some of her earlier cheer back as she woke Link to feed him, as she cleaned him and tucked him in. Abel watched the pair, heart heavy, wondering if this was a mistake.

What if… what if he failed again? What if he got himself killed out there, in that goddess forsaken land? What if there were guardians out there as there had been ten years ago?

What would he find? What if he didn’t return?

What would happen to his family?

You’re being paranoid. There was no way Central Hyrule was that dangerous, or Lady Impa would have warned them about it. Right? Besides, Blatchery Plain was riddled with guardians and they were all harmless. So it had to be fine. Right?

Right?

There was a shrine there, though. He had to try.

For Link.

Abel watched Tilieth settle into the bed beside Link, leaving space for him to join her. He went outside, heading for the goddess statue.

Hylia smiled serenely at him. Abel stared darkly back.

He didn’t pray. He couldn’t. Even if he recognized the gift that Epona was, the miracle that Link was actually improving, he couldn’t pray. How could he, after what he’d done today?

How could he, after all his failures? He blamed Hylia for the destruction of Hyrule, but he hadn’t done any better to protect it.

He’d killed a man today.

Could he have avoided it?

It didn’t matter. Whether he could’ve avoided it or not, it didn’t matter. That person would never be a threat again.

But what if he was just scared? What if you could’ve talked him down, as you had with those siblings at Proxim Bridge?

Am I a murderer?

He supposed he didn’t deserve to pray. He wasn’t a knight; he wasn’t even a good man anymore. He was just a survivor. And he would do anything to protect his family.

Besides, that Hylian had clearly been starving. He’d likely been desperate and would’ve been willing to do anything too. He’d been a threat.

Abel still didn’t think he was a good man anymore, though. He wasn’t sure he’d been one since the Calamity.

He didn’t need to be a good man. Just a good fighter.

Hylia smiled serenely at him. Abel turned away.

He paused as he passed the inn. Almost went inside to see his wife and his son. But then he kept going. He didn’t want to risk catching Tilieth’s attention. Quietly, he guided Ama out of the village before mounting her and riding into the night.

A keese or two tried to interfere as he rode, but he eliminated them easily.

Eagus Bridge seemed infinitely more foreboding as he crossed it now. Horwell Bridge even more so.

Ama’s hoofs tapped rhythmically, a familiar, comforting cadence to the pounding in his heart. His skin felt cold, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. Was he being watched? He didn’t hear the sound of the earth tearing under clawed metal feet, he didn’t hear the claps of thunder that followed the firing of lasers, he didn’t hear the ticking as the mechanical monsters prepared to destroy whatever was in their path.

His heart raced even faster. Ama nickered nervously, picking up on his energy, pausing at the edge of the bridge.

Central Hyrule stood before him.

It was hard to really see it with as dark as it was. The moon was crescent tonight, barely spilling any of its blessed light. Abel’s eyes were wide, desperate to take in every piece of information he possibly could. The wind blew innocently, bringing the scent of soil and water.

No flowers. No leaves. No trees. Dirt was carried in the breeze, loose, eroding, barren.

It was all barren.

Abel carefully bade Ama forward, and as her hooves crunched into the soil, he felt his body tense further.

What little light was available from the moon vanished, hidden behind clouds heavy laden with rain. Ama’s black hair made her practically disappear into the darkness, and thunder rumbled not too far away.

Abel urged his steed ahead, slowly and carefully. Thunder rumbled again.

Thunder. Thunder.

The sky burned.

The bells in the temple rang repeatedly, a warning and a petition, a prayer and a guide. It punctuated the screams, it harmonized the ticking of lasers as they charged and fired, shooting through the air with such intensity that it created miniature claps of thunder as the heat separated the air harshly before it returned together with a snap.

Abel’s breath caught in his throat.

The world around him was deafening.

There was so much noise, and his ears were ringing so much, he honestly couldn't tell what sound came from what source anymore. Was it a scream? Was it a guardian? Was that a child wailing or a gear grinding? Was that his heart pounding in his ears or was it a thunderclap from another beam firing?

Ama whinnied, moving in place anxiously.

Abel stared ahead, watching troops march together, some limping, others helping their comrades. Many had wagons and horses to help them.

He heard whirring. He heard gears. He heard claws, and ticking, and thunder.

Thunder rumbled again. The earth shook. Ama neighed, growing skittish, jostling him in his saddle, it was raining, when had it started raining, something was moving, something was moving—

Abel heard horse hooves galloping, he heard a battle cry, he saw mud splashing in the barren wasteland around him—

Bokoblin!

Abel gasped, coming to reality, spurring Ama into motion, and she ran ahead. He drew his sword, catching sight of the enemy, recognizing faintly the familiar motion of aiming a bow and arrow. He jerked his horse to the side as an arrow flew by his ear, and he redirected her to charge once more, stabbing the bokoblin. His blood was racing, his body soaked, his hands trembling—

His horse whinnied with panic as flames spread too close, licking at its hooves and his heels. He steered the mare around the flames as she almost bucked him off, and then the flames were abruptly disrupted by a clawed foot tearing into the earth and squelching them.

In the haze and smoke, Abel recognized the pink mechanical eye transfixed on him. He sucked in a sharp inhale, coughing harshly on the smoke in his lungs, and urged his mount to move.

Metal glinted. Lightning flashed, reflecting on a blank eye, a mirror to a past of fire and smoke.

Abel froze in his saddle. Ama ran harder, petrified, out of control.

The guardian was hot on his heels, charging its laser as he once again pushed the horse to run faster. His steed neighed in protest, her stamina draining out of her faster than it could replenish, and the guardian fired.

Go! Go, run!!!!

Abel pulled on the reins hard, making Ama neigh in protest as she tried to obey, as her hooves slipped, she lost her balance in such a sharp turn, and both horse and rider fell into the mud.

Thunder rumbled.

Thunder clapped as lasers fired.

It was pouring.

The sky was aflame as people screamed.

It was deafening it was deafening.

Movement stirred nearby, screams—screams of civilians—thunder thunder guardian fire, they were everywhere—

Abel whirled, sword at the ready, a snarl at his lips as Ama tried to right herself. His hilt made contact, slamming something, and he looked around with crazed, terrified eyes.

Where was it where was it—

Ama finally stood. Thunder rumbled again. Lightning flashed.

Lightning flashed. Shining a light. A light. On the barren wasteland. There was—there were—what was—

Blonde curls, stained with red. A figure, lying still in the mud. Green tunic smattered in brown, the only green as far as the eye could see—

Abel felt his heart stop.

This wasn’t—this wasn’t real this wasn’t real nononononono—

Abel ran, heart racing once more. The world shook as lighting struck again. The figure remained still on the ground.

“TILIETH!”

He collapsed into the mud, shaking her shaking her begging, pleading, goddess no please no—

The still fingers. The still feet. The still body. The paleness, the redness, the black and blue and—

“NO!”

Thunder roared. The rain was deafening. But nothing could outweigh the sobs, nothing could cover the screams, nothing could stave the panic as the former knight shook his wife over and over and over and over and over.

[angel-derangement]

season four sam is like such a evangelical religious nutcase to me in how he’s thinking. He’s like yeah god and the devil and angels are all real, duh. I do not care at all about the implications. There’s a natural order to the universe anyway and yeah people die womp womp but I have a special secret journey and I have a special power and im gonna save the world and I’ll do anything to get there and I am so convinced of this that I’ll hurt whoever I need to because I have this one guiding person to follow. And we’ve got the answer. And you can’t stop me you weak little faithless wimp of my brother. Oh but I love you soooo much I prommy. do not ask about if my actions reflect that. This is so incredible to me personally that they did this to him because a) 100% an accident, I think they weren’t constructing him to be a blind follower but the “voice of reason led astray” b) he has demon blood literally coursing through him so why would he be the one to represent christianity c) isn’t dean the one associated with the angels?? But no. That is not how Evangelical Christians work. They require an Enemy that Can Be Defeated By Measures in order to construct their entire worldview and they don’t put angels or God in the place of Hero Facing The Enemy, they put themselves there and do anything to structure that power to their advantage and never ever question it deeply no matter what you say. Dean meanwhile is questioning every single thing that every single person is doing, whether they say they’re good or bad, and he has serious issues with the choices both sides are making. And then he leads an angel into losing his faith while sam gets his faith fully betrayed. Anyway. If I think about this too much I go crazy. They’re all deconstructing in a way over the course of seasons 4 & 5. Sam is like a fundamentalist whose beliefs finally bit himself in his own ass. Dean is someone who grew up questioning it and so never got invested and can’t believe everyone else is getting sucked in. Cas…. Well Cas wants so badly for it to be true, and is forced over and over again into proclaiming his allegiance to the line, but ultimately has to give in to the slow crawl of doubt that leads to the demise of who you once were and who you thought you’d be, just because it turned out to be rotted the whole way through when you looked too closely. Don’t get me started on Cas.

[crossdressingdeath]

Narrator: *For the first time in over a century, silence falls over the Bhaal Temple. No chants, no screams, no prayers.* Narrator: *In the end, your own death brought you more joy than any you wrought on this land. You are slipping into peaceful oblivion.* Narrator: *But your journey is not over.* Withers: Thou hast defied Bhaal, thy liege and father, and in doing so hast earned a place among champions and heroes. Withers: But, alas, thy courage was in opposition to the divine cosmology that bound thee to the Lord of Murder. Withers: Thou art now faithless - godless - and doomed to wander the Fugue Plane for eternity. Withers: I will not permit that, though all the powers of life and death dictate that it should be so. Withers: I, too, still hold some power, and I invest a portion of it in thee, who hath challenged the gods and now liveth to tell of it. Withers: Thy fight is not over, and it is thy fight, for one who can look upon Bhaal and oppose him can survive any crisis. Withers: So rise, Challenger of Gods, and prepare for battle once more. Death will not claim thee whilst I endure.

Not gonna lie: this sounds like whether or not Durge was immortal before, they sure as hell are now. I mean, "Death will not claim thee whilst I endure"? Sounds to me like they aren't going to be dying any time soon. Durge's relationship with death has been upgraded from "I'll have to ask my dad (he says no)" to "I'll have to ask my granddad (he says absolutely not under any circumstances)." Benefits (or curse) of coming from a family of death gods, I guess.

I love the imagery of a hush falling over the temple as all of this is happening. Like... based on Withers's dialogue this shouldn't be happening. Durge shouldn't be defying their father and Withers definitely shouldn't be bringing them back afterwards. From the moment Durge says no everything's gone off-script. It's also interesting that Withers says Durge defying Bhaal is in opposition to divine cosmology; keeping in mind I haven't played the first two games, I get the sense that while Bhaalspawn defying Bhaal isn't the norm it's not all that unheard of. There are two whole games about Bhaalspawn doing exactly that, actually. Then again Durge's situation is unique; possibly it's something like... as they were made from Bhaal's own gore Durge literally shouldn't be able to refuse him like that, which raises some fun questions about their life pre-amnesia. The suggestion that Durge kind of broke cosmology in defying Bhaal is very good and I'd love more details on that.

The suggestion that Durge is now entirely without a god to claim their soul on their death and will wander the Fugue Plane for eternity now that Bhaal doesn't want them is very interesting, considering that you can be a cleric and so bound to a god other than Bhaal (unless the dialogue is different under those circumstances). I guess Bhaal took priority as their father and maybe since Durge died as a direct result of him abandoning them no one else had the chance to stake a claim? But if this is just the way of things for them now and their soul can't be claimed by a god that's. not good. But then again I guess technically Jergal has it. It's fine! I really like him walking into this situation and saying "No, they don't deserve this and they're too important to this fight, I'm not letting them die like this (or at all)."

Based on what Bhaal says prior to this Durge dies less because he directly killed them and more because his divine essence was their life force, so when he ripped it out of them they had nothing to keep them going? So then what Withers is doing seems to be replacing that portion of Bhaal's divine essence with his own, giving Durge a new life force in the process (hence why they'll now endure as long as he does, since presumably if he dies that new life force will die with him). Durge may or may not thank him for that (that bit about Durge's death bringing them more joy than any they've caused hits hard, and even harder when you consider that the deaths they've caused include Ketheric and Orin and potentially include people who hurt their companions like Cazador, Gortash, Viconia...), but it seems like the divine equivalent of a heart transplant or something similar.

[bestworstcase]

i guess there is always the question of to what extent the fractal-ozlem pattern will hold true for every endgame romantic pairing and the secondary question of whether the tension between salem and ozpin in jaune's character will eventuate as a return to form (salem) or as transformation (ozma).

but for what it's worth

<- i find this a lot more persuasive than the weiss developments in V9

it's a bit thorny all around. by design. i think he's probably intended to be puzzling. the simplest answer is jaune ecloses as the hero and saves cinder but that coexists uneasily with what's going on with cinder and salem, to say the least. not to mention the thematic treatment of fairytale heroism.

he did save neo, so there's that.

rolls over

jeanne d'arc heard the voices of saints and angels guiding her way. i suppose there's an argument to be made for the recording pyrrha left him, but given the importance of salem's piety and apostasy, jaune's distinct lack of religiosity or… belief in anything greater than himself is worth reconsidering maybe. why is he here? he cheated his way into beacon just to prove to his family that he was worth something. now he's just here for his friends. what becomes of salem if she's faithless? if she's cynical?

salem is not a cynic. she's a shattered idealist. there will be no victory in strength. mankind is strong, wise, and resourceful, born into an unforgiving world and yet even the smallest spark of hope is enough to ignite change. passion and ingenuity and resourcefulness. hope breathes fire into the hearts of the weary. hope is mankind's greatest strength. your faith in mankind was not misplaced. it's important not to lose sight of what drives us: love, justice, reverence… and so we must press on.

take all that away from her. what is left?

even cinder believes in something, in destiny as a monster to fight. "i refuse to starve."

she poses a thematic challenge to jaune's cynicism in that she puts a spear through weiss schnee, her own personal symbol of everything she's fighting against, in direct response to jaune telling her nothing matters to him except that his friends live. and then he manifests his semblance. and then cinder murders penny and he can't save her and it's his sword covered in her blood. and now he has to live with that forever.

snaps fingers

the tree is the tower. the lovable idiot stuck in the tree. that tree is death. the reason jaune is so narratively weird is he's anti-theme salem. in cheating his way into beacon he put himself in her tower.

hhh

jeanne d'arc was instrumental in charles vii's campaign to push the british out of france. vacuo just had a short-lived civil war instigated by isolationist monarchists claiming descent from vacuo's royal line, one of whom was top of her class at shade and "would have been a fantastic huntress" if she hadn't dropped out. and her semblance is the inverse of jaune's and she mirrors him in a lot of ways. she might be the summer maiden.

i am so far out on a limb here but

…huh.

the anti-theme salem's ozma ii would be the maiden of destruction.

[cheezecakeee]

stray kids as taylor swift's songs🫧 (angst ver.)

skz masterlist | main masterlist

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✰Bang Chan : August

"but I can see us lost in the memory, august slipped away in a moment of time, 'cause it was never mine and I can see us twisted in bedsheets, august sipped away like a bottle of wine,'cause you were never mine." "back when we were still changin' for the better, wanting was enough for me it was enough. To live for the hope of it all, cancel plans in case you call, meet me behind the mall, so much for summer love and saying us 'cause you weren't mine to lose"

✰ Lee Know : Champagne Problems

"your midas touch on the chevy door, november flush and the flannel cure, "this dorm was once a madhouse" i made a joke, "well, it's made for me". How evergreen our group of friends, don't think we'll say that word again and soon they'll have the nerve to deck the hall that we once walked through. One for the money, two for the show, i never was ready so i watched you go" "and hold your hand while dancing, never leave you standing, crestfallen on the landing with champagne problems. Your mom's ring in your pocket, her picture in your wallet, you won't remember all my champagne problems"

✰ Changbin : Right where you left me

"you left me no choice but to stay here forever" "did you hear about the girl who got frozen? Time went on for everyone else, she won't know it. She's still 23 inside her fantasy, how it was supposed to be. Did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion? Breakups happen everyday, you don't have to lose it, she's still 23 in her fantasy and you're sitting in front of me" " 'Cause I'm right where. I cause no harm, mind my own business, if our love died young, I can't bear witness and it's been so long but if you ever thing you got it wrong, I'm right where you left me"

✰ Hyunjin : Hoax

"stood on the cliffside screaming, "give me a reason", your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in. Don't want no other shade of blue, but you no other sadness in the world would do" "You know I left a part of me back in New York You knew the hero died, so what's the movie for? You knew it still hurts underneath my scars from when they pulled me apart, you knew the password, so I let you in the door, you knew you won, so what's the point of keeping score? You knew it still hurts underneath my scars from when they pulled me apart but what you did was just as dark, darling, this was just as hard as when they pulled me apart"

✰ Han : Cardigan

"and when i felt like an old cardigan, under someone's bed, you put me on and said i was favourite" "to kiss in cars in downtown bars was all it needed, you drew stars around my scars but now I'm bleeding, 'Cause I knew you steppin' on the last train marked me like a bloodstain, I, I knew you tried to change the ending, peter losing wendy, I, I knew you leaving like a father, running like water" "but i knew you'd linger like a tattooed kiss, i knew you'd haunt all my what if's" "Cause I knew everything when i was young, i knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired and you'd be standing in my front porch light and I knew you'd come back to me"

✰ Felix : Back to December

"realized i loved you in fall and then the cold came, the dark days. When fear crept in my mind you gave me all your love, and all i gave you was goodbye" "So this is me swallowing my pride, standing in front of you saying sorry for that night and I go back to december all the time" "i miss your tan skin, you sweet smile, so good to me, so right and how you held be that september night, first time you ever saw me cry" "maybe this is wishful thinking, probably mindless dreaming. But if we loved again, I'd love you right, I'd go back in time and change it but i can't, so if the chain is on your door I understand."

✰ Seungmin : All too well

"we were always skipping town, and i was thinking on the drive down "any time now, he's gonna say it's love", you never called what it was, 'til we were dead and gone and buried. Check the pulse and come back swearin' it's all the same, after three months in the grave and then wondered where it went to as I reached for you but all I felt was shame and you held my lifeless frame" "and maybe we got lost in translation and maybe i asked for too much, and maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up, running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well" "and you call me up again just to break me like a promise, so casually cruel in the nane if being honest, I'm a crumbled up piece of paper lyin' here, 'cause i remember it all"

✰ I.N : My tears ricochet

"even on my worst day, did i deserve it babe, all the hell you gave me? 'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you 'til my dying day" "and if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed" "you know, I didn't want to haunt you but what a ghostly scene, you wear the same jewels i gave you as you bury me" "and you can aim for my heart, go for my blood, but yu would still miss me in your bones, and i talk to you when I'm screaming at the sky, and when you can't sleep at night you hear my stolen lullabies" "and you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain crossing out the good years and you're cursing my name, wish I stayed, look at my tears ricochet"

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