#there’s a clear difference between shadow link and dark link

[james-p-sullivan]

hylia’s light can’t shine down on link without casting a shadow

[baddybaddyadardaddy]

Okay, I'm going to make a wild prediction about Adar and Galadriel in Episode 8, so strap in.

An overarching the/major motif of the Rings of Power from the very first episode has been, obviously, the interplay between darkness/light.

"To find the light, we must first touch the darkness." / "Before light, darkness must flee, etc."

Adar and Galadriel together are a manifestation of that duality between light and dark and accordingly, I think there's a compelling case for them to team up against Sauron at the end of Season 2.

Here's my attempt at this argument:

PARALLELS BETWEEN ADAR AND GALADRIEL

The show has established a few strong visual parallels between the two of them.

Mourning ritual. Galadriel mourning for Finrod in S1Ep1 is echoed by Adar's mourning of the Uruks in S2Ep7. They even mirror the single tear.

What's more, Galadriel bears WITNESS to Adar's funeral ritual, enforcing the connection of this moment.

Seed planting. Frankly, my jaw hit the floor when S2Ep2 had Galadriel planting seeds in the memorial garden in Lindon, because the shots/framing were almost IDENTICAL to the seed planting Adar does at the beginning of S1Ep6. The sentiments of both instances are the same "life over death," though the words do differ.

Flip sides of the same coin/mirror to one another. The show has also presented us with many instances where they function as mirrors to one another. If not signficant, why do?

Barn scene. The barn scene in S1Ep6 is a PRIME example, when Adar literally calls Galadriel out for the hypocrisy of her hatred of the orcs.

The dinner scene. Adar once again holds up a mirror to Galadriel, pushing back against her notion that "you yielded to him. I resisted." Then they have the shared acknowledgement that without Sauron, the world seems a "dull grey" (GREY, interestingly, a halfway point between dark and light). Adar's face in response to her admission will live rent-free in my mind forever-- it's like he's been SEEN for the first time in his life.

So while Galadriel sees herself as a warrior of light, and views Adar as a creature of darkness, the show does a pretty superb job of showing that both of these characters have light and dark within them in equal measure.

They were both tempted by Sauron and succumbed.

So there is a clear, thematic link between these two from that standpoint.

ADAR'S JOURNEY TOWARD THE LIGHT

Next, I think it is clear Adar on a path toward light/redemption as an elf, and it tracks in a VERY LITERAL SENSE.

First time we see Adar, he is bathed in an angelic light. As he performs the funeral ritual for Magrot, light streams into the Uruk tent.

The shot at the end of S2 Ep1, when the camera lingers on Adar as Gil-Galad's call to the Eldalie commences. Adar feels the undeniable call to his elven past. That camera shot was NOT A COINCIDENCE, and I'm FOREVER FERAL ABOUT IT.

Cavalry charge at the siege of Eregion. Adar is OBVIOUSLY backlit:

There is a dividing line between light and shadow an Adar is RIGHT on the border of it.

When he steps up to take possession of Nenya, the sky behind him is split between a darker side and a lighter side. (You can argue that it's a CREEPY light, but it's still light. There is almost no all-black coloring on him in that second frame when he actually has the ring. For a character that's been head to toe in black the entire series, this is Significant.)

So where does that leave us for the big Sauron smackdown?

My first wild prediction: In an INSANE reversal, Galadriel will be the one to bring Morgoth's dark crown to the confrontation, while Adar will wield Nenya, a symbol of light.

It's not inconceivable that Gal could have smuggled it out of Adar's camp somehow under her oversized Uruk cloak. And Adar, OBVIOUSLY now possesses Nenya at the end of S2Ep7.

I think the fight between Galadriel and Sauron is ACTUALLY a three-person fight; we just haven't seen Adar in the promos because

1. Obvious plot spoilers and

2. HE WILL BE FIGHTING IN A FAIR FORM BECAUSE NENYA WILL HEAL HIS CORRUPTION.

My second wild prediction: This three-person fight is telegraphed in The Last Temptation. There's a new motif (not musical, so unclear if this is the correct term??) that starts around 1:07. It sounds like an aggressive children's choir. Interspersed, we get some of Gal's themes and Sauron-flavored music. I think this new bit could be either a combined theme for Gal/Adar fighting side by side, OR a new motif for a changed/elven Adar. It's aggressive, which to me tracks with Adar's fighting style that we saw through S2Ep7, and it builds and gets more voices added to it as the song progresses. At one point, it blends perfectly with Gal's theme.

Third wild prediction that I hope I'm wrong about: Adar will likely get fatally stabbed during this fight. I could see him giving Galadriel the ring at a crucial moment, in as a redemptive act, which would forfeit any protection it might have offered him, and I think he'll receive a fatal blow from Sauron, but not before we get a much clearer picture of EXACTLY who Adar is. IF they do it this way, it will be a deeply satisying end to Adar's story arc, IMHO.

Last thoroughly unhinged thing I will leave you with:

Nolwa Mahtar translation (from S1), according to Bear's blog:

Finish the war, the darkness, end this suffering

Impossible to pursue, deep in shadow, follow light

Finish the war, the darkness, end this suffering

Bright warrior against darkness.

Obviously this theme plays a HUGE role in S2. I believe the lyrics are different; we don't know what they say yet.

But I have contended all along that this piece has always applied in some way to BOTH Adar and Galadriel.

Galadriel is the bright warrior standing against Sauron's darkness, yes, that image is obvious.

But Adar, a figure who lived deep in shadow, follows light, ultimately finishing his own war and ending his own suffering.

[simpstantruther]

Hungry Heart ch. 2 | (Mullet) Stanley Pines x Reader

Summary: Stan needs to go to Oregon. You need to get to California. Stan has a car. You have a cunt. (Can I make it any more obvious~)

(TW: Dated Language and ideas of sex and consent)

Tags: 80s Americana Roadtrip Partners-in-Crime Stan x Reader fic. Smut. You can fix him, but you're worse.

Preview:

Lee watches you with amusement over his coffee. He looks different when he’s well lit. Older. More worn. Especially with his hair slicked out of his face, so you can see how deep the bags under his eyes are. You prefer it messy.

He's a good time. Funny, but stupid. You didn’t know it was possible to fit a sausage link up one’s nose. It shouldn’t be, it was fucking gross. You stick your tongue out in playful disgust when he eats it anyways. He laughs like a boy.

Read on AO3.

The street light buzzing is so loud you can’t hear yourself think.

You can feel it between your shoulder blades, tense as the dry night air hits the sweat pooling down your back. The light casts a dark shadow beneath your feet as you stroll through the middle of the street trying to keep your feet on the faded yellow divider lines. You don’t. 

You’re still in Dallas. You think. 

You had a bed to sleep in tonight. Or maybe a couch, with the guy passed out across the covers like he did. You had already cleared out his pockets, peeked through a few drawers. 

You found a tiny gun. Fit right in the palm of your hand. Like it was left in that drawer just for you.

Then the poor fucker’s wife came home. 

When you heard the shotgun cock into place, you started running and didn’t stop, pockets considerably heavier. In the chaos, you forgot you nabbed the gun.

You’re glad you nabbed the gun. 

Now you don’t know where you are. As if you ever really knew anymore. Back streets like this all kind of blended together, no matter where in the U.S. you were dragging your sorry ass around. 

Empty dirt lot with a single bench, a sun shade and a bus stop to the left. Shit-hole liquor store, piss stained parking lot to the right. Food. Shelter. Pisser.  All one could ever need.

If only you had actual cash instead of valuables you needed to pawn.

You have a small gun now.

Stupid looking little revolver. Three in the chamber. Poor fucker couldn’t be assed to fill the thing? No wonder his wife wanted to kill him.

Your stomach growls. It wants to kill you.

Do you have it in you to stick up a place just to get something to eat?

You stop. 

Under the brilliant neon Open sign of the liquor store, in bright yellow, peeled-paint glory stands a pay phone. Handset intact. You suppress a cry of joy. You would fall to your knees in praise if you didn’t think you’d catch a disease on the rusted bolts holding it to the cracked concrete. One of the bolts is loose. It wants to leave too.

You feel in the change slot for a spare quarter, sticking your tongue out through the side of your mouth. Your fingertips brush against the ridged edge.

Holy shit.

If you’re not careful, you’ll use all your luck up in one night.

The miraculous quarter slips into the slot. You wait for the dial tone to buzz into your ear, white-knuckle-gripping the handset. 

Shit.

Who the fuck are you supposed to call in Dallas? A taxi? They don’t take gold chains. A shelter? They’re all closed. Did you want to get robbed?

You still couldn’t get to one even if you wanted to.

You hit the return button. Clink. At least you can pocket the quarter. 

As you slip it into your rear pocket, you feel the fuzzy, frayed edge of a business card. Why would you keep a business—

The Loveshack it says.

Why did you have a business card for The Loveshack? What even is The Loveshack?

You don’t know what possesses you, but you sniff the card. It smells unholy. Like beer, and sweat, and man-stink and— you need to sniff it again.

Why are you thinking of a mullet? 

It smells so familiar. Why does it smell familiar? And you feel like gagging, you hate tequila. 

Oh.

You slip the coin into the slot again, bouncing your heel as you wait for the other line to pick up.

“Front desk.” Crackles through the shitty speaker in the handset.

“Hi! G-Good evening—” Your old hostess voice possesses you. High and clipped and waiting to be reprimanded. An old reflex. You haven’t had a regular job in at least a year. You remember no greasy, stinking manager is breathing down your neck to sound pretty when you pick up the phone, so it returns to it’s deep natural state. 

“Hello?” The voice on the speaker croaks again.

“Patch me through to a room, please?”

“Which room?”

Shit. Which fucking room? You turn the card over. Nothing written anywhere. You don’t even remember the guy’s name. Maybe he didn’t know how to write. Honestly, all you remember is Bruce Springsteen and a mullet and thinking that his beefy hands might fit nice around your—

“Hello? Miss? Which room?”

“Uhhhh— don’t remember. He’s a guy, you know?” Of course they know, are you stupid? “Tall, big shoulders, shitty mullet—“ You motion to the top of your head as if the operator can see you.

“Patching you through.” 

The line goes quiet. You’re too anxious to bounce your heel anymore so you stand frozen, hunched over the pay phone box.

You hear heavy breathing on the line. Then a woman’s name, in a vaguely familiar, gruff Jersey accent.

“Who?” You question, confused.

“That’s your name, isn’t it?” 

Oh. You gave him a fake name, you remember.

“It’s Lee.”

“I know! Lee!” You draw out his name overly-affectionately. “How the hell are ya?”

“You called.” 

“I did!” 

“...I didn’t think you would call.”

“I said I would call, didn’t I?” You shrug your shoulders, tucking the phone beneath your chin and leaning back against the phone box. 

You hear him scoff. “I don’t think you did.”

He’s probably right, it doesn’t sound like you to promise something like that.

“ 'S fine. I wanted you to call. I’m glad you did.”

You chew your bottom lip. He’s quiet on the line too, drowned out by the white noise. The plastic static of the handset against your ear makes you shiver even though it’s pushing 85.

“Look, Lee… I’m sorry to call you like this, but I’m in a bit of a bad way—“

“What’s wrong?” He asks quickly. His concern is cute. He doesn’t know you. If he knew you he’d know something’s always wrong. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” You aren’t. There’s a pit growing in your stomach because you remember the last time you said those words to a semi-concerned party over the phone. About a year ago. You weren’t fine then, either. “You don’t have a car by chance, do ya? Or maybe just cab fare?”

“Where are you?” 

“Uh—“ You look around. The sign on the liquor store is missing letters. It's in a language you don't recognize. You aren't as worldly as you think.

“I got wheels. I’ll pick you up right now, sweetheart. Where are you?”

You silently cheer. You crane your neck and narrow your eyes to read a street sign, murmuring it into the receiver. You cross your fingers, bite your lip raw, and pray he heard you right. You can barely understand him through the crackling line.

“Give me twenty minutes, toots. An hour, tops. Don’t go nowhere.”

“I’ll be here!” You have nowhere else to go.

The line goes dead.

The hook is broken. You leave the handset on top of the box, swallow back your false cheerfulness and sit on the curb.

The street light buzzes above you, a spotlight on your failed state. You cannot hear yourself think. You are grateful.

You don’t have a watch. Giant, tacky bracelets hide your wrists well enough. So who knows how long it’s been once cars start pulling over and hollering at you to hop in. 

Cutting your jeans into daisy dukes seemed like a good idea once you got south of Memphis and the nights regularly cracked 90. It felt less so now, while rough concrete and gravel dug into your seat, sticking to your skin from sweat. 

You ready an empty glass bottle, aiming to launch it at the dark red convertible that slows beside you next.

“Easy there, sweetheart. Watch where you throw that thing. Can’t afford to replace the window again.”

You stand up so you can see past the half-rolled window.

“Lee?” You peer inside. 

It is Lee. He greets you with a wide smile, sliding out his door and moving in to hug you until he sees you flinch back. He blinks and freezes before nodding his head to himself and crossing behind the car. 

“After you, Angelface.” He cracks open the passenger door for you.

“What a gentleman.” You wheedle for him, grateful for the cushioned seat. You keep your eyes on him as he slams your door shut and gets back inside. A bit of caution was healthy. You shouldn’t trust him. He definitely shouldn’t trust you.

The front seat is clean. Vaguely. There’s a couple full trash bags sitting in the back seat. And a few beat up boxes of some bright blue towel thing, dye seeping everywhere it touches, and other assorted brand new junk headed straight for a landfill. It was like he raided the world’s shittiest truck load of useless crap. Why was he lugging around all this stuff?

It still reeks like cheap cigarettes. But at least it didn’t smell like tequila. You crack open your window anyways. 

“Where to?” Lee asks, smiling nervously as he shifts the car into gear, hand staying on the shifter knob between you. 

God, his arms. He’s punishing the thread around the sleeves, rolling them up like that. He put on a clean shirt for the occasion. And gas-station cologne. How sweet.

He shaved, too. You’re a little disappointed, though his jaw is nothing to be ashamed of. You wanna run your hand over his skin, mourn his five o’clock shadow. For the love of god, the man has dimples. Is he Catholic? Would he smack you if you use the lord’s name in vain? You kind of hope he does. Maybe you'll let him borrow one of the rings you 'found'.

You know you look like shit. You can see the outline of your tangled, frizzed hair in the dark in passenger side mirror. You’re never teasing your hair again.

If you pass by a street light, you know you’ll see the rest of yourself in the dirty yellow glow, looking haunting as ever. You angle the mirror away. No need for another reason to bum yourself out before your— whatever this is— with Lee.

You sigh and relax back into the seat, closing your eyes with relief as the rough road jostles you. Almost rocks you to sleep, right there in the passenger seat. 

He says your fake name again as you’re drifting off. 

“Sorry.” You yawn and smack your lips.

He waits for your answer. He can't go nowhere, after all.

You sigh.

“I’m gonna be honest, Lee. I got no idea where to go.”

He nods as he drives with his eyes forward. You already caught him glancing down at your chest after a particularly bad pot hole. He was on his best behavior now. You get to study his silhouette.

“Ain’t you stayin’ anywhere?”

“Nah. Got kicked out of my room this morning. Had a place lined up, but it fell through.” 

You hope he doesn’t ask more. He doesn’t. Good man.

Your stomach grumbles and you hunch over, desperate to subdue the sound. You were used to that by now.

“How about we get you somethin’ to eat, huh? That sound alright?”

“You sure?” You look up at him, your hand cradling your empty stomach.

“Hell yeah. Been dyin’ to take you out since you first glared at me. Dressed up for the occasion—thanks for noticin’.”

“Is that so?” You huff out a laugh. “Color me flattered. You clean up nice. But you’re full of it. I wasn’t glarin’ at nothin’.”

“Oh yeah? ‘Cos I liked it, you know. I thought you were makin’ eyes at me. I like when pretty girls make eyes at me.”

“You’re blind, bud.”

“Nahhh. ” He grins wider. “You like me. Think I’m handsome.” 

You neither confirm nor deny, but you smile as he turns away. You see him blinking and narrowing his eyes at the road signs as he drives. He’s probably blinder than you are. Maybe he regrets telling you to call him, now with your mess close enough to see.

“Pretty girls must be in short supply if you’re settling for me.” You mutter under your breath and lay back again. If he heard you, he doesn’t reply.

He pulls into a 24-hour diner. 

It’s like he read your mind. You could kill a breakfast combo right now. And however many coffees you can drink before they kick you out for not paying, unless Lee is more liquid than he looks.

You doubt it.

You spin around on your plastic-y little dinner stool, your busted heels hanging off your toes as you kick your feet around. The coffee is good . You would have preferred a booth for privacy, but this is fun too. 

Lee watches you with amusement over his coffee. He looks different when he’s well lit. Older. More worn. Especially with his hair slicked out of his face, so you can see how deep the bags under his eyes are. You prefer it messy.

He's a good time. Funny, but stupid. You didn’t know it was possible to fit a sausage link up one’s nose. It shouldn’t be, it was fucking gross. You stick your tongue out in playful disgust when he eats it anyways. He laughs like a boy.

He’s got nice teeth. Mom would be happy, if that kind of thing mattered now. You wonder if he’s Catholic. You don’t think you are anymore.

He makes you laugh ugly. It makes your cheeks hurt, the kind where you have to massage them for a while after. It feels good to laugh ugly.

He doesn’t ask about anything that matters. You like that.

You both check out the same waitress. You ask her for sugar free sugar, the real kind (whatever that means), and you both watch as she stands on a stool to look at the top shelf, her teeny uniform not covering much of anything. She’s probably eighteen. Doesn’t know any better.

Now you’ve been on both sides. It’s a rite of passage.

He tells you you’re prettier than her, but you pretend not to hear, flicking a folded up napkin towards the trash can behind the counter. Daddy always said you were a pretty girl. You used to hear that a lot more often. You’d believe Lee if it were a couple days ago, when you were within twelve hours of a hot shower. 

The napkin misses the trash can. You meet his eyes. He smirks.

You have an unspoken agreement with Lee.

You chew your soggy, jellied toast silently and without alarm while he pockets another customer’s tip.

He shovels scrambled eggs into his mouth and doesn’t mention anything as your fingers slip into the lady beside you’s pocket book. 

God bless 24-hour diners.

Combined, you probably have enough to pay for your food. You’re still a little short, not that the waitress would notice until you left, if she could count at all. But why leave it to chance? 

You both stand up at the same time, offering compliments to the chef, the lovely waitress—

“Where do you think you two are going?” A grimy hand wraps around your arm. It’s the cook. Or else he just smells like bacon grease. You feel less satisfied with how the food sits in your stomach, suddenly. “You ain’t paid yet.”

“Alright, keep your paws to yourself, pal—“ Lee knots his hand in the cook’s greasy shirt. Meaty fucking hand. God, the size of those fingers.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey—“ You hold your hands up in surrender. “We’re cool. No need to freak out. We’re cool, aren’t we?” 

“Still gotta pay for your fuckin’ food.” 

You have a small gun now. Your fingers itch to hold it again, to squeeze the grip made for your small hand.

You glance at the laminated menu another customer ducks their head behind. Quickly you stand beside Lee, pressing your chest against his side with your hand on his sternum. He’s warm. Solid, beneath the softness. It’s nice when he’s not damp with beer sweat. You try not to think about it. 

“Are you serious ? You—you think Mr. Denny pays at his own restaurants?” You motion to Lee with your hand. 

The cook balks at both of you, and Lee puffs out his chest. You try not to laugh.

“Bullshit you’re Mr. Denny. He’s gotta be like eighty or something.”

“J-Junior! Mr. Denny junior, obviously!” You take Lee’s jaw between your thumb and forefinger and aim his face at the cook. You’re suddenly grateful Lee combed his hair back. And that he knows when to keep his mouth shut. “See this? Spitting image!”

The cook glances at a blown up photograph hanging on the wall. White hair, beady eyes, the kind of jaw that recedes back into a neck. About the only thing similar to Lee was that they were both human. Maybe. 

Damn. You almost made it, too.

A giggle bubbles out of Lee’s throat as he catches sight of the photograph and the cook’s face goes red, burn-calloused hand reaching for Lee’s throat. A busboy with a tray full of dishes passes by at the wrong moment and you swing your hand up and knock the entire tray back against the cook. 

You leave behind a calamity of broken porcelain and gasps in your wake as you pull Lee by his hand out of the diner. He throws down a few chairs on his way to muddle the path to follow you both as you run. 

Even in busted heels, you’re faster than Lee. 

His huffing, red face would be entertaining if he wasn’t the one with the keys. 

“Drive, drive, drive!” You hollar, grin plastered to your cheeks as you smoosh your face and hands against the passenger window, watching in amusement as the cook and the waitress scramble outside and look around for you.

Lee’s braying laugh fills your ears as his car pulls out of the parking lot. You’re laughing too, content with wherever he sees fit to take you. You feel safe. You shouldn’t, but you do.

You have a small gun now.

Previous chapter.

Next chapter.

[illusionsofdreaming]

Bound to You - Choi Han

Notes: If anyone still remembers Cale's version, here's Choi Han's version - though it's a bit more nostalgic haha. Pt.3 Alberu coming up soon. Ft: Choi Han

Choi Han

As always, a perfectly normal day gets sidetracked by a surprise attack.

An enemy mage leapt out from the shadows, spouting vengeance and the usual villainous spiel everyone’s sick and tired of, magic shooting out their hands. Everything happened at once as everyone acted upon the unspoken but unanimous decision to protect the weakest in your group: Cale. 

As the others rushed the mage, you and Choi Han leapt to push the aghast young master away, just in time to bodily receive the blast yourselves. 

The world spun sickeningly as you were flung away, breath knocked out your lungs as your back collided with a tree.

You groaned as you fought to keep your breakfast down. There was an annoying ringing in your ears, and your limbs prickled with the sensation of pins and needles.

“________?” You looked up at Choi Han’s soft query, surprised to find his expression pinched with discomfort. “Are you alright?”

“Yes…” You answered slowly, mentally assessing your own body’s state. It would take more than being thrown across the clearing to take you down but the tingling on your skin made you hesitate. As you made to stand, an overwhelming wave of dizziness swept over you, and pain lanced through your consciousness, sending black dots swimming in your vision.  

You would’ve fallen again had Choi Han not stepped in to steady you. Two realisations hit you in quick succession: one, you were definitely not injured enough to feel so terrible, and two, the moment Choi Han made contact with you, the nigh unbearable pain you felt was relieved almost instantly. 

What…? You glanced up and finally noticed your companion’s sickly pallor, the beads of sweat against his forehead and the tremors in his hands as he steadied you. As you met his gaze, Choi Han’s grim expression seemed to confirm your worst suspicions.

Something was really, really off.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 

A curse of distortion targets one’s mana and twists it against itself. Rampaging mana would eventually tear its hosts apart. Fortunately, in a strange twist of fate, when both of you were hit, the magic split between two sources of mana seemed to have reached an uneasy balance - though just barely. Although neither of you were at immediate risk of imploding, the moment either of you moves too far away from each other, the fragile balance of your unstable manas would collapse, causing unimaginable pain.

After some trial and error, maintaining some sort of physical contact seemed to neutralise the worst of the side effects. It was decided you’d hold hands until your manas naturally settle with time.

You glanced down at your linked hands, you flexed your fingers in his grip. 

You quickly learned that constantly maintaining a firm grasp on another’s hands presented its own set of challenges. Unused to your suddenly narrowed range of movement, you’d often pull each other off-balance as you headed in different directions or moved before the other was ready. Even performing simple tasks became a hassle as you struggled with only one usable hand and your non-dominant hand to boot. Menial chores took twice as long to complete and anything that required any degree of dexterity was off the table. 

To make matters worse, Choi Han seemed uncomfortable with physical touch. He couldn’t seem to meet your eyes directly and twitched every time you moved your fingers. You didn’t blame him, being stuck alone in the Forest of Darkness for tens of years does things to people. You’d give him some distance if you could but the curse seemed to affect you more than him as you’d discovered when you separated briefly to tend to nature’s calling only for Choi Han to rush to your side when you nearly blacked out from the pain that overwhelmed you. Swordmasters must be built differently since the distance only caused Choi Han a massive migraine and nothing more. 

You sighed forlornly, stretching your fingers and closing them, gracefully pretending that you didn’t notice Choi Han shiver beside you. How was it possible that two unparalleled warriors, each an expert in their own field, when put together, would result in less than one fully functional person? You could only imagine what havoc it’d cause if you’re suddenly forced into combat.

“Maybe we’re not so compatible after all.” You mused aloud, thinking perhaps this was a good time to reflect on changing your training techniques. It’s true most close ranged fighters would usually pair up with mid to long ranged partners to cover each other’s weaknesses. Maybe you could give spear handling a try? You hadn’t noticed how Choi Han stiffened beside you.

“I just need some time… to get used to it.” You glanced at him, wondering how getting used to being attached by the hands would help cover each other’s openings but you managed a nod in response to his sudden determination. Swordmasters probably knew what they’re doing, right?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Swordmasters do know what they’re doing after all.

Though it started off rough, after a few more collisions, stumbles and painful falls, you’ve started to piece together the patterns of your partner. You began to recognise the minute shift in his movements that indicate direction and have a better grasp on how much ‘space’ he actually takes. You were moving more efficiently, able to gauge where he would step and shift accordingly to avoid impeding his movements or yanking him. Choi Han, too, began to relax. His grip used to be light and weak, as if wary of his strength, now his grasp is firm and comfortable in yours as you walk side by side. 

One thing about being stuck next to another person in close proximity for an indefinite amount of time meant conversations you wouldn't typically have time for soon filled the air between you. You traded insights on favourite colours (such as the flash of light as dawn breaks and the iridescent blue shine of lakes), preferred fruits (he liked strawberries, while you’d prefer citruses), and even contemplated on potential career changes once everything settles. The conversations delved into seemingly insignificant details, which, when combined, shaped the people you’ve become.

You fed another stick into the fire and glanced at the starry skies, leaning into Choi Han’s side. The camp was quiet, everyone else had retired to their sleeping bags as you and Choi Han volunteered to keep watch.

“Do you miss home?”

The fire popped and crackled as he prodded the coals. “It would be a lie to say that I don’t.” he answered eventually.

You resisted the urge to turn around and see his expression. “Would you go back if you could?”

It was a question that was on everyone’s minds that no one dared ask and perhaps even in the silence of the campsite, and even with your close relationship with him, you still weren’t worthy of asking such a personal question. You wouldn’t push and Choi Han knew he wasn’t obliged to answer either.

It meant the world to you, when he did, regardless.

“It’s a place that has probably moved on without me.” he said. “Even if I could, I don’t think it’s my place to return and disrupt the peace anymore.”

“Besides,” you turned to see him watching you with a wistful smile, “I have found a new home. I don’t mind leaving relics where they belong.”

A bittersweet feeling became lodged in your throat as you turned to watch the fire, hoping it would hide the sudden wetness in your eyes. “As if we’ll let you leave.” you scoffed, “Even if a portal suddenly opens and sucks you in, I’m going to drag you back here kicking and screaming.“

Choi Han’s laugh was warm and comforting and his grip tightened on yours. 

“Yeah,” he smiled. “I’m counting on it.”

[merp0515]

Healing Past Scars Ch.1 Blind Belief

Summary: After the dealing with so many traumatic incidents, our beloved meme guardain boys have to come into terms with both past and present scars. Will they be able to conquer them with an iron fist or will those same wounds destroy them both?

Tags: Suicidal Thoughts,PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Healing , Developing Relationship

Link to my previous post with other fanfic places I posted this fic at is here!

TW: The following story contains dark themes such as PTSD, and disturbing imagery.

   It was raining hard late into the night at the showgrounds. Everyone was fast asleep in their respective rooms peacefully except for one. Four had just finished editing his latest video, ready to call it a night. He gets up from his chair and stretches his body. He changes into his PJs and hops to his bed and closes his eyes to forget reality for a moment.

Fog clouds Four's vision as he tries to watch where he was stepping. He looks around cautiously, trying to figure out his location. He looks ahead to see a silhouette of something he couldn't put his finger around.

"Hello! Can you help me figure out where I am? I'm a little lost here!" He shouted at the shadow from a distance. The shadow doesn't reply. The guardian walks towards the mysterious figure, his brows scrunched in irritation as the silence between the two thickens. The fog slowly clears up the more SMG4 gets closer to the figure. The figure's shadow clears as Four gets close, stopping dead in his tracks. His eyes widen seeing a person he hasn't seen in a while......Desti.

Desti looks at Four coldly. Her octarian eyes staring deep into his soul. Four could feel himself sweating as the scene changed to where she had died but something was different. Four looked down to see the very sword that killed her, pierced into his heart. He instantly felt everything at once. The pain, no way of breathing, and the shockwave his body felt as he kneeled down before her.

"If only you had been quicker with realizing that anime trash was behind me, I would have been still alive and Meggy wouldn't have gone through such a traumatic event." She spoke with such venom in her mouth. Four began coughing up blood as it started to spread on his overalls. He looks down in shame, looking at his hand, shaking tears threatening to come out.

"I...I was trying to save everyone." He managed to say before the scene and the person changed again. He closes his eyes, feeling himself glitch into the transition. He notices the sword that was previously on his chest disappear and holds on to his chest, anxiety slowly kicking in as he is back in the god box. More specifically, where they first met the real SMG0 and Niles.

He looks up to see the sky, remembering the mixture of colors where they fought Eldritch Zero and almost dying in the void of the box with Mario and SMG3. He hears a dark chuckle, snapping himself back and gasps in horror as he sees both his avatar and his guardian partner's Mario reskin covered in many injuries.

"MARIO! SMG3!" Four screams in terror and he runs towards the two but is cut short due to something landing between him and the lifeless bodies. He looked closer to see the thing that stopped him was none other than Melony in her Fierce Deity form.

"M-melon-" Four began to say before Melony cuts him off from speaking further. Her bubbly tone was replaced with a more serious and angry tone.

"Why?" She began, her face twisting into an angered expression that scared the shit out of the meme guardian.

"Why are all the bad things happening to us while you only get so little pain? Are we just characters that you can just play with their emotions and screw them over whenever you want?" The melon Deity says, her voice shaking from the tears that came out with her grief. 

"It's a shame really." Another voice rang as the two original guardians appeared in between Melony. Zero looks away, not looking at the heartbroken Four. The teary eyed guardian looks to her right and growls in anger as Niles stares at him with a smug ass smile on his face.

"And yet with your best intentions, have you ever stopped to wonder if you ever did more harm than good?" Niles asked in a taunting tone.

Four's eyes widen in rage as he runs to the trio going head on towards Niles screaming angrily. Both Niles and Zero disappeared at the same time and fell to the ground right in front of Melony. He looks up in horror to see the two merged into their Eldritch version behind her staring him down emotionlessly. She picks up the blue hero effortlessly as the male struggles to get away from her grasp.

"M-melony please.....listen to me.", SMG4 tearfully said, feeling his face wet with tears.

Melony opens her mouth to speak to Four before throwing him into the abyss. But instead, the voice of the monster behind her spoke in her body as he was thrown far into the next place.

"P A T H E T I C."

Screams were heard in the void. Four felt like he was flying into the void for an eternity when suddenly felt himself going downwards to something.....and he was going down at the speed of light. Four shields himself, shutting his eyes tight as he was embracing for impact that never came.

Zero

One

Two

Three

Four

He counted to himself as he tried to calm himself down. He waited for anything to tell him he was either alive in his dream or awake back in his new room. Sounds of the keyboard echos in his ears as he opens his eyes immediately wondering where this nightmare had taken him this time. He looks around the room he was in. His heart racing, realizing where he is. Back to the beginning, where it all began. Four's breath quickens as he watches his 2022 self glued to the computer, his room a mess along with his restless appearance he had the day he snapped at his friends for turning off the wifi.

"It's crazy isn't it?" He heard a familiar voice from the shadows. Four jolts up in surprise to his friend Axol sitting on his old bed, looking at him with sadness and pity. The axolotl looks back to the older design, a frown intact on his face.

"I was once the world's best mangaka. I had it all. Fame, fans, people that adored all my hard work and enjoyed all of what I brought to the table. Meeting you all and going through all the insane near death experiences changed my life." Axol said with a heartbroken tone.

"A-axol please..... I-I'm sor-"Four weakly tries to apologize to his friend and carefully walks towards him.

"YOU APOLOGIZE?! AFTER BEING DEAD FOR ALMOST THREE YEARS ONLY NOW YOU CHOOSE TO APOLOGIZE?!" Axol screamed at Four with such rage. Four immediately stopped approaching and jolted in surprise, seeing him in such a state. Axol's body changed from his original form to the second stage of the time "Zero" possessed him.

"I NEVER GOT TO EXPERIENCE TRUE ROMANCE AND GO ON PROPER DATES! INSTEAD OF THAT, THE GIRL I FEEL FOR HAD TO KILL ME!!!" He shouts more aggressively. Four fell to his knees, looking down in shame. Letting his dead friend chew him out with his words.

The ground beneath him changes again to the outside of where the castle once was. Four looks up to the empty space before him. His guilt kicks into high gear as he lets his tears fall out and hugs himself in pain. He drowned out all the audio in the current setting he was in that he didn't hear someone walking towards the weeping male. He stops his tears for a moment to see a familiar shoe that had a skull on the side standing in front of him. Four lifts his upper body to see his ex rival looking at him. His face was unreadable as Four felt his lips shiver as the other male kneeled in front of him.

"Just like when I almost died during the 10th year anniversary party and during the god box incident. I almost died during Mario day.... didn't I?" Three spoke with pure fear in his eyes. The final glitch changes from the old castle to Three's Coffee N' Bombs where it was infested with snails. Four's eyes widened in fear and looked behind him to see a scribbled out face of Mario petting one of the snails. The blue guardian could feel himself tearing again as he felt Three's hand gently grab his face to see him. Seeing the way the other meme guardian stared at him shattered his soul, making him cry on the spot. Three's eyes changed from his warm ruby colored eyes to the yellow colored eyes, his skin and hand covered in black veins.

"Can you imagine what that's like?", Three gulped as he felt his own tears coming out seeing his partner cry. "To be completely and utterly failed.....time and again....by someone that meant the world to you..." 

Four shot up from his bed drenched in sweat. His entire body was shaking from what he just experienced. He shakily covered his face with his hands, his sobs echoing in the blue man's room. He cursed the loud pouring rain outside for creating such a horrible nightmare. All he wanted was to create a new home for everyone after everything was said and done. Is having a peaceful life in his new home really hard to have? 

In the meantime he'll have to do what he always did when this recurring nightmare happened. Hold himself close and let his tears out until there's nothing left so he can sleep.

[bossuary]

FIC: The Demon (ao3 link)

Rating: T or G, idk Fandom: Dragon Age: The Veilguard Pairing: Lucanis Dellamorte, Emmrich Volkarin Tags: m/m, pining, age difference, height difference, death, Nice Necromancer, Shit Assassin, romantic inexperience, a touch of hand kink, a smidge of spirit/demon kink?, a bit of intellect diddling, mary kirby is to blame Word Count: 1020 Summary: Lucanis discovers that insomnia in the Lighthouse is not a solo activity. Emmrich doesn't sleep much, either. And he's very interested in...things. Notes: MIGHT KEEP GOING AND MAKE SOME FILTH would that be...of interest to anyone?

***

“Oh dear. People truly call you that?” Emmrich’s voice was tinged with scorn and scandal. “To your face?”

“Some do, yes,” Lucanis said with a nod.

He smiled at the sensitivities of Westerners. In all the pages of his life, all the way back to when he had been Luca, demon was the least of the epithets he had endured.

“Charming,” Emmrich murmured.

The moka pot burbled on the stove. Its tin lid shimmied. They seemed illusions of warmth, meant to comfort mortal senses. Lucanis watched for steam, felt the dreamlike throb of the Lighthouse, and was grateful that it didn’t itch. He poured a short cup for himself, and one for his fellow sleepless companion.

Emmrich thanked him, and took his cup to the table. Lucanis plucked a lidded bowl from the cupboard, and spooned sugar into his coffee. More than he should have, less than he truly wanted, always.

“It’s a colorful appellation for a man of your profession,” Emmrich mused from his seat at the cozy kitchen table. “Tell me, is it…an accurate one?”

Lucanis tensed. Granules of sugar skittered across the counter. This wasn’t the time to work out the semantics of what he was. Not in the small hours, ragged with insomnia. Not in this place between places. Not with the death mage. He dropped the sugar spoon into its bowl and gave Emmrich a smile as brittle as his cup.

“It’s just a word,” Lucanis replied, fighting to keep things light. “It’s no different than assassin. Or necromancer .”

Emmrich nodded as Lucanis spoke, cradling his cup so the steam whispered up along his face.

“Mhm. Or, mage killer, for example,” he said, sipping his coffee around a tease so slight it took a demon to catch it.

Lucanis inhaled and looked away. “Ah. About that…”

Emmrich held up a hand. It would have been a patronizing gesture, had the old man’s smile been less disarming.

“Please. To serve death is to respect it utterly, wouldn’t you agree?” he said, holding Lucanis’ gaze over the rim of his cup. “I could never be afraid of it.”

Or of you.

“Uh. Well said, I think,” Lucanis offered, and lifted his cup in salute.

The placket of Emmrich’s shirt curled open at the throat, Lucanis noted, and the sleeves were rolled neatly to his elbows. He hadn’t just been sleepless, tonight, he had been working. Was there a tattoo above the sculpted forearm, or just a shadow?

Lucanis pushed past it. He savored his coffee. Velvety and dark, with a cherry tang. It anchored him in this unmoored place. Across the room, Emmrich appeared equally soothed. The silence they shared between fragrant sips eventually thinned. Emmrich cleared his throat.

“The word ‘demon’ is derived from daemonium, in Tevene,” he began, and rose from the table as if giving a private lecture.

If only Lucanis had been any kind of scholar.

He sipped his coffee and listened, and caught himself noticing useless things: the engaging rhythm of Emmrich’s accent, stray locks of silver that fell over his forehead, his hands. Mostly, damningly, those hands.

“For centuries, the Alamarri in the Frostbacks used an ideogram to refer to what one might call a demon today. It was a fish hook, rather a clever shape to describe such a complex being, or a complex relationship to one.” He came to stand a few feet from Lucanis at the counter, easing his lean shape against it, holding his cup like a precious artifact. “It looked…not unlike that symbol, there.”

Emmrich gave a subtle nod, his eyes fixed on Lucanis’ belt. Among the other medallions was one etched with a soot-black hook. Reflexively, Lucanis looked down at himself, and heat bloomed in his face.

Made you look.

Emmrich’s interest was so present, his gaze as deft as the finger of a jeweler, that Lucanis half expected to see the medallion move as if lifted by a spell. There was no itch, however. What Lucanis felt was purely the magic of the man’s attention.

An itch by another name. To name it, he would be a straw doll striking a match.

He should have spoken by now. Emmrich, patient as the grave, used one of those elegant fingers to touch the scattered granules of sugar on the counter. Maybe it was the Lighthouse, or some other ancient charm, that freed Lucanis to imagine he could take Emmrich’s finger between his lips and have all the sugar he liked.

A swift pang of loneliness stole his rising heat, though, and stilled his hand as it drifted to the medallion. If Illario were here he would mortify Lucanis with salacious suggestion and vulgarity until misery became another name for family.

But Illario wasn’t there.

“For us, this does not represent demons,” Lucanis said, finally, and grimaced.

Emmrich gave him a confused look.

Bravissimo, Professor Dellamorte, very smart.

Lucanis drained the remaining coffee he would have preferred to sip, pushed his cup away, and nodded to Emmrich.

“Goodnight, Volkarin.”

He retreated to the dark hall beyond the kitchen light, but Emmrich’s voice stopped him.

“I pity the incurious souls of the world, those bereft of a willing heart, for there is such pleasure in knowledge. They won’t know the meaning of a word, or the nature of the creature it describes.” He strode to the edge of the lamplight, hands clasped behind his back, and fixed Lucanis with another arresting look. “A carelessness that too often extends, also, to people.”

Lucanis swallowed. The shadows seemed a meager protection, now.

“Meaning?”

With a smirk and a flick, Emmrich doused the kitchen lamps. Lucanis felt a brief scratch behind his eyes.

“Only that whatever I may be called by others,” said Emmrich, joining Lucanis in the shadows, “I wish you to know that I am not a careless man.”

Lucanis said nothing. He froze as if a great light had spotted him where he shouldn’t be.

“Goodnight, Master Dellamorte,” said Emmrich, warmly. “Sleep well.”

As he watched Emmrich disappear into the guest wing, Lucanis had a single, desolate thought in reply.

Not even when I’m dead.

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

Destinytober24: Day 8 - Harmonica

You know who else cheats at cards?

Link to Ao3 if you prefer to read it there

When the sky is darkening, the fire crackling, and one is alone and missing one's ghost, the only sensible thing to do is pull out a harmonica and serenade the universe, like a whale singing its solitude out to the open sea.

Cayde-6 is doing this now.

It is the in-between time. The Witness has not yet been killed. The Vanguard is preparing for what may be its final operation. Crow is out scouting. Zavala is learning Stasis from Ikora, and Cayde has been left with his own thoughts, for however long that will last.

A Hunter's journal lies open on one of the salvaged folding chairs by the fire. It shows a map of the Blooming, sketched in a careful hand with clear labels of landmarks and concentrations of hostile troops.

The fire is spitting, a new log having recently been added. A small pot of something edible is near enough to the flames to be kept warm but not close enough to char.

And Cayde... Cayde is warding off the loneliness with a sad song. He tells himself that if Sundance is in the Traveler and the Traveler is all around him, then she can probably hear the music. So he plays for her. He plays to tell her he misses her. That he knows she misses him too.

It isn't so much a sound behind him as a feeling. A creeping feeling. The sensation that he is no longer alone. He stops playing and tilts his head, listening. Not Crow. He makes too much noise. This is someone quieter. The eerie sensation increases. It feels inexplicably... Hive.

Cayde stands and spins around, Ace drawn. Three green eyes glow in the darkness above a larger sphere of Soulfire at the other end of the path leading up to the campsite.

As his finger depresses the trigger, he hears the gunshot from a different direction. Cayde retains his grip as the barrel of his gun is knocked aside.

Solar. Different angle. Two of them.

Cayde tumbles back out of the firelight, seeking the shadows to avoid the next shot. But the next shot does not come. He rolls again and comes up on one knee with a tripwire grenade armed and blinking in one hand, his weapon readied in the other.

The Hive eyes have ducked behind a rock. He can see the faint glow. He waits a moment for the grenade timer to run down so that it will detonate as soon as it lands and prepares to toss.

"Cayde!" a voice calls out.

Feminine. Low. Familiar. Pissed off.

"Eris?" Cayde stands up. "Eris Morn?"

"Yes." She confirms with an oh-so-familiar tone of complete exasperation.

"Well I'll be damned."

Cayde tosses the tripwire grenade behind him, holstering his hand cannon as the device explodes harmlessly on the beach.

A hand holding a globe of Soulfire emerges from behind the rock, followed by the distinctive three glowing eyes. And then, as she comes closer to the fire, the tear-streaked face of Eris Morn above the outline of her chitinous pauldrons, strings of beads glinting in the firelight, becomes visible.

"Sorry," Cayde says, flippantly. He isn't very sorry. A little sorry, maybe, but not that sorry.

He steps closer to the fire, his arms out, ready for yet another hug in a long string of hugs from people he's been dead to for years.

Eris steps closer to him as he stands, his arms still out, the awkwardness of the situation increasing as he awaits an embrace that does not come.

Instead, Eris leans in and holds out her Ahamkara bone like a flashlight, peering intensely at him. Her outstretched hand hovers inches above his skin as her three green eyes bore into him, examining him as though he is a science experiment. She looks closely at one outstretched hand, up one arm, walks around behind him, peers down his other arm and finally leans up on her tiptoes to scrutinize his face.

Cayde-6 leans back slightly as her hand hovers over his faceplates. Eris steps forward and continues until her fingertips are just inches away from the tip of his horn before withdrawing her hand.

"It is you," she intones.

"Yeah, it's me." Cayde's arms are still out, waiting for a hug he is no longer certain is coming.

Eris tilts her head.

"How?" she asks.

"It's... complicated."

A shadow to the side steps into the firelight. The second shooter.

Cayde's eye-lights blink in surprise. Of all people...

"Now that's a face I didn't expect to see. How are you still here?"

The Drifter shrugs as he continues to walk toward the fire. "I might ask you the same thing, brother."

"And you," Cayde turns back to Eris, still examining him intently, his arms still out awkwardly. "I figured you'd be a Hive god by now."

"I was," Eris says nonchalantly as she makes another slow circuit around him, peering at him over her ball.

"I think he wants a hug, Moondust."

"What?" Eris pauses, giving the Drifter a confused look before looking back at Cayde again. "Oh."

Cayde raises his arms a little bit.

"Very well" Eris turns and places her Ahamkara bone on top of the open journal on the chair before clumsily reaching up to provide Cayde with the most graceless and uncomfortable hug he's ever received as he looks down in exasperation at Eris' rock on his map.

Cayde and the Drifter make eye contact. The Drifter smirks and sits down in an unoccupied chair, lounging back like he owns the place.

Cayde raises a finger, about to say something when Eris steps back and places both of her hands on his shoulders, gazing at his face intently.

"Have you been on the Moon?" she asks.

Distracted from what he was about to say, Cayde looks at her quizzically. "What? Uhmmm... you mean before or after I died?"

"After," Eris says, her voice insistent.

"The Guardian and I did go looking for a ghost there for Micah."

"No. After you died but before you returned. While you were dead. Have you been on the Moon?"

She speaks with the intensity that only Eris Morn can summon, focused on a confusing detail that means nothing to him, and it's as though all the years have dissipated and they're back in the Vanguard office and she's once again being frustratingly cryptic and weird, up to and including having her damn rock on his damn map.

It's oddly comforting, the exasperation. Like an old familiar blanket.

"No, Eris," Cayde says, with a gentleness he never had with her in the past. "I wasn't anywhere. I was... with Sundance... somewhere inside of here... before here became... whatever it is now."

"Hmmm..." Eris releases his shoulders and turns away, staring into some unidentified point in the darkness out beyond the light of the fire. "Troubling, but... not unexpected."

Yup. Same Eris.

"Someone wanna clue me in here?" Cayde asks looking to the Drifter, of all people, for clarity.

"Apparently a ghost of you... not like a guardian ghost, a ghost ghost.... has been pestering her on the Moon for years," the Drifter says, tumbling a coin across his knuckles. "She's been tryin' to figure out this whole time whether it was a pyramid phantom twisting her memories or actually you. That's one of the reasons she wanted to come see ya."

"Yes," Eris turns away from both of them and reaches out a hand in front of herself, her fingers combing empty air. "Of all the nightmares that have been sent to torment me, yours has been the most confusing."

Cayde feels a pang of guilt. "Wasn't me. I mean, I figure I tormented you enough while I was alive. Seems unfair to keep doing it after I'm gone."

"Yes," Eris intones and nods. "It did seem like far more effort than you would have troubled with."

Another pang of guilt.

"Look... Eris," Cayde steps toward her. "I don't know if you got my message after I died but um... I am sorry about your ship."

"My ship?" Eris turns back to him, confused.

Her three eyes blink slowly and then narrow. "My ship." Her mouth twists into a snarl.

"Easy, Moondust. You got a Tomb ship now. You don't need that old thing."

"She has a Tomb ship?" Cayde stares at the Drifter in disbelief.

"Yeah," the Drifter answers gleefully. "Reclaimed from the Lucent Hive. The inside is bigger than the outside. It's wild."

"You seriously have a Tomb ship?" Cayde asks her.

"Yes," Eris intones, as though it was a simple boring fact that was not remarkable at all. "Your light is... different."

She never was much of a conversationalist.  Same old Eris.

"Yeah," Cayde says. "No powers either... just the gun... And no Sundance... I don't even care that much about the powers but... I miss her... a lot..."

"Yes." Eris says, her own voice now gentle. She lays a hand on Cayde's arm.

"It hurts," Cayde says bluntly in a way he knows she will understand.

"It does," she agrees, once more staring into his eyes with her own.

"Now I know what it feels like..." He places his own hand on top of her own.

"It is not a feeling I would wish to share with anyone."

"Yeah," Cayde says quietly.

The Drifter's misshapen ghost appears over Eris's shoulder. Both Eris and Cayde look at it for a moment, and then over at the Drifter.

The coin disappears and he sits up nervously from his slumped position.

"What?" he asks them.

The Drifter's ghost bumps into Eris gently, blinking red then blue then red again, before floating away into the darkness beyond the firelight. It emits its single tone from a lighter spot a short ways away and looks back at them, its shell open and spinning.

"Hmmm...." Eris follows it. Cayde follows Eris. The Drifter shrugs, stands up, and saunters after everyone else.

The Drifter's ghost continues moving until it leads them to a crack in the ground pouring out brilliant white light. It hovers over the crack and emits its tone again.

Eris catches her breath. "Is it... one of them?" She asks, looking at Cayde.

"Cracks in the Traveller?" Cayde asks. "Yeah."

Eris walks over and kneels down next to the crack in the ground. The Drifter's ghost settles into her open hands. She tilts her head, listening.

"You know, Ikora did the same thing." Cayde says.

The Drifter stands next to her. "Eris?"

Eris's hand flies up, palm flat. "Hush."

The Drifter looks back at Cayde. Cayde shrugs.

"You just gonna sit there on the ground like that, Moondust?" His hand reaches out to touch her arm just below her pauldron.

Eris hand flies up and grips his wrist tightly.

"Be. Silent," she commands him, giving his hand a small shake with each word.

The Drifter's ghost floats up from Eris' lap and bumps into his chest, nudging him back.

He takes a step back and the ghost floats back down into Eris's open hands.

The Drifter's hands raise up, palms up in a gesture of surrender as he steps back further. "Oooookay."

"Is that your ghost?" Cayde leans over and whispers.

"I think she's gonna be a while," the Drifter whispers back, not answering the question.

"Yeah, Ikora sat there for a couple hours the first time she saw it too."

"Alright then."

Both turn and walk back to the fire.

Cayde sits down on the chair next to where Eris' Ahamkara bone is sitting on his journal. The Drifter takes a seat as well.

"So uh... are you and Eris..."

The Drifter is silent. He leans back and his coin once more starts to flip across his knuckles.

"I mean, I'm not going to pry but... I've only ever seen you look at one other person like that..."

Still silent, the Drifter shrugs.

"And you're still here," Cayde continues. "That... that really is a surprise... I figured you'd be long gone by now."

"Yeah well," the Drifter keeps his coin tumbling as he talks, "Decided I wanted to stay after all."

"Have to admit... I did not see that one coming... does make a bit of sense though."

The Drifter is silent for a few more moments as the coin walks across his knuckles and the fire licks at the logs. Then he leans forward and the coin disappears.

"How long you figure you got?"

"I don't know," Cayde says quietly. "It... doesn't feel like a long term thing."

"Might not be long term for any of us, really, depending on how this fight goes."

Cayde nods.

The Drifter shrugs. "Feel like losing at cards?"

The practised grin with a glint in his eyes is back and Cayde finds the offputting man oddly comforting in this moment, much in the way Eris being frustratingly obtuse was comforting earlier.

Shifty scheming Drifter is still shifty scheming Drifter, and that, too, feels weirdly soothing to Cayde in a world where everything else seems to have moved on without him.

"Lose?" Cayde asks, his elbows resting on his knees. "I seem to remember the last time we played I wasn't the one with no pants on."

"If you call seein' me without pants on winning, sure." The Drifter winks. "Didn't know you felt that way, brother." His eyes sparkle in the firelight.

Cayde laughs and shakes his head. Yup. Still Drifter.

"Shut up and deal."

The rogue Lightbearer reaches into his coat with a wide toothy grin and pulls out a dark glass bottle. He places it on the ground between them.

"Ooooh," Cayde reaches out, curious, and picks it up by the neck. He brushes off some dust to get a look at the label. "Ooooh," he says again, this time leaning back and nodding in appreciation. "All right, you have my attention."

A deck of cards appears in the Drifter's hands.

"Uh... hmmm..." Cayde pats at his pockets. He wasn't resurrected with any glimmer.

His hands come across a lump. It's not a question of value, but the spirit of the thing. That'll do. He pulls the object out and holds it up.

The Drifter raises one eyebrow and then nods, shuffling the deck with easy familiarity.

Cayde tosses his harmonica next to the bottle on the ground between them.

The metal instrument glints in the light of the fire as two rogues sit down to do what rogues do best: see which one can out-cheat the other at cards.

Link to the entire month's worth of prompts on Ao3, posted daily.

[amiya-shirou]

SPOILERS FOR SOTE

In my head, Shadow of the Erdtree is the result of the Tarnished having doubts about what path to take before reaching the finale. Maybe none of them seemed completely ideal, and maybe they had already seen what Miquella was trying to bring about with the Haligtree and heard of his kindness and compassion, and thus entered the Land of Shadow seeking a potential alternative.

And after seeing Miquella's failure, maybe also discovering what we now know about Marika's backstory, finally decides what to do and goes into the Erdtree.

Most of the endings and narratives in Elden Ring are about what to do with the Golden Order. Some want to restore it, some want to change it, others want to bring about a different Order. But what Shadow of the Erdtree makes very evident is that the problem is not the "Golden Order" per se; it was bad, but it's not something you solve by putting the "right god" in charge of things, because the very act of aiming to become a god ultimately brings you to discard your humanity. Marika started as a victim, and yet became a tyrant. Miquella had to discard himself and his love in trying to ascend to the divine, in the process doing extremely morally questionable things that makes one doubt his so called Age of Compassion would have been much better than Marika's (reminder that kindness and compassion were his weapons, and something that he did incredibly fucked up things in name of, possibly not even realizing how bad they were), and he himself would have been caged by this role, with St. Trina asking us to kill him to save Miquella from that fate. Even looking at other cases this persists: Rykard waged war against the Erdtree, and that path resulted in him becoming a monster. It's not too clear what Mogh was actually like before the brainwashing, but since his dinasty was still something that existed inside the Lands Between's narrative, it was still fallible to outside control and interference, and thus ruined and turned into a mockery of that it stood for.

There's no guarantee that taking Marika's place would solve anything, because it's the system that's rotten at its very core.

So yeah, in my head, coming out of the Land of Shadow with a deeper understanding of things, there are three paths in front of the Tarnished: the Elden Lord path, in which they choose to rise to power anyway in the vain hope that maybe this time it will work or just to bring about some manner of balance and safety for a time (somewhat similar to the typical Dark Souls "linking the flame" ending although it varies depending on what variation of this ending you choose); making the correct choice of following Ranni, bringing yes a new Order, but one separated from the Lands Between, leaving the reassurance of grace for the unknown of the chill night but by doing so gaining freedom from the higher forces of the world (kiiinda like letting the Fire fade? in vibes at least); or just succumbing to despair in front of what might appear like a doomed world (which makes Melina's words when trying to make us change our minds even stronger) and fall for the allure of the Frenzied Flame, giving up on any Order entirely and burning the entire thing to the ground.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

My Little Tech Wiz 🛠 | Peter Hale Headcanon

Link to my Teen Wolf Masterlist

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

This going slightly off of canon because I’m erasing the fact Peter teamed up with Kate in S4. Basically imagine he forgone those plans because he realized you were worth more than petty vengence.

Being Stiles’ genius cousin who likes to invent gadgets and is romantically involved with Peter would look like:

Picture this: you’re Stiles’s older cousin and like he is an excellent detective, you are a genius inventor. Ever since you could pick things up with your hands you’ve been drawn to creating new things. Play-do, Legos, craft materials. That’s all you wanted to play with as a child because you could build and create different things from them. As you got older you had a keen for math and physics to the point where teachers were telling your parents to have you IQ tested. When you eventually did do the test, it came back you were a literal genius. Shortly after your parents built you a workshop in the storage shed they never used—you basically lived in your backyard because you were there every moment of free time you had. Only downside is your parents forbid you from putting a bed, kitchenette, and installing a bathroom—because then you would actually move out there.

While Beacon Hills was your home, you couldn’t say no to the opportunity of a lifetime when MIT offered you a full ride to their program. Double majoring in Physics & Mechanical Engineering, you graduated MIT at 21 years old, and went on to complete your Master’s and PhD just after you’re 25th birthday. The next six years you stayed on the east coast dedicated to scientific research and creating your own inventions while also teaching at MIT.

Quickly you became known in the field—considering you developed an Artificial intelligence robot named Pluto as part of your dissertation who operated on its own and looked like a real-life version of WALL-E. He was your little buddy and helped you in the workshop and office. “Y—Y/n…” “Yes you’re right—there’s something missing in the equation.”

What brought you back to Beacon Hills was a frantic call from Stiles’ father, your uncle, Noah. Though you & Stiles had quite the age gap between you—roughly fifteen years—he was always looked up to you and was fascinated by your inventions. He was only a small child when you left for college, but when his family would visit yours he was like your little shadow. Always asking questions and wanting to help you. So when Noah calls in evident distress saying Stiles was admitted to the Eichen House and he may have FTD you were on the first plane out to California. When you arrived Noah brought you back to the house and briefly explained to you the situation—leaving out the tiny fact it was possibly a dark fox spirit possessing the teenager.

You were pretty oblivious to a lot of weird things in Beacon Hills, however, you always had that deep intuition that something was going on. As long as it didn’t directly affect you, you tended to turn a blind eye to stuff that looked odd or didn’t have a clear explanation for why it happened. So when Stiles was void and interacted with you there was nothing that made you assume it wasn’t him. You literally went about your conversations with him like it was any other day. It wasn’t until you witnessed the Nogitsune split from Stiles in Scott’s living room that you audibly yelled, “What the fuck?!” Which had everyone, especially Stiles, shitting themselves because 1: most of them had no idea you were there, 2: most didn’t know who you were, and 3: you just saw something you shouldn’t have and they couldn’t lie about it.

That was where you first met Peter. In the middle of Scott’s living room as he held down Stiles, who was covered head-to-toe in gauze, on the couch. With your jaw dropped and staring wide eyed like you just witnessed the second coming of Jesus. You couldn’t even appreciate the hunk openly checking you out because you were too flabbergasted with what had happened. “I knew this town had weird shit going on—b-but my cousin throwing up himself was not what I had in mind!” Melissa was quick to usher everyone out while Stiles—the real one—and Scott did their best to explain in less than two minutes before they had to haul ass to find Lydia and Void Stiles.

When everything calms down and seems to be going back to normal, you end up deciding to move back to Beacon Hills. You’re research was independent so there was no need to stay at MIT for funding—plus you made enough throughout the year by doing seminars and being a field expert that you could make do with setting up shop back home and focus on your inventions. Purchasing your own two-story loft penthouse, the first floor was the actual living space whereas the entire second floor was your workshop. Stiles loved visiting you, and whenever he needed to hide something from his dad you were the first person he went to.

One day you were working on your newest project, mask on and blowtorch in hand, when the pack (plus Peter) walked in. All of them were pretty much in awe of your workshop—in disbelief by the holograms and robots around them. Little Pluto scurried past them on a mission to retrieve a part you needed, everyone minus Stiles watching in wonder. Their arrival surprised you, a audible yelp leaving your mouth when Stiles came up behind you—only for him to yelp as well when you nearly took his face off with the blowtorch. “Hey! Hey! Watch it!” “You know better than to sneak up on me like that Stiles! You remember what happened to Uncle Larry when he did?” The pack stated their business, which was the Deadpool situation and wanted to know if you could potentially trace the location given your system was very advanced.

After telling them it may take a while with the little information they currently had (and they were going to be late for class since it was their lunch hour they had used to come see you) everyone except Peter and Derek left with the two Hale’s saying they’d wait in case something were to pop up. It gave Peter the perfect excuse to try and talk to you—-and if we’re being honest it was likely for malicious intents in the beginning. Mostly it was to see what benefits you��d bring him by befriending you and how your creations could be used against the pack.

So yeah, Peter didn’t have the best intentions when he first started talking to you, but that disappeared within the first day of knowing you. It started when he felt a tug on his plant leg, glancing down to see Pluto gazing up at him. “Peteeeer.” “Uhhh—.” “He’s asking if you’d like something to drink.” “Him? You…you can understand him?” “Of course I can. He’s my child.” That sparked a conversation lasting several hours to the point he forget why he was even there in the first place. Also he couldn’t help but find it attractive when you corrected him after he addressed you as Mr./Ms. Stilinksi in a playful manner and you went, “Uh it’s Doctor to you, buddy.”

When y’all officially started dating the pack was not happy about it—especially your uncle and Stiles. The rest of the pack had taken a liking to you rather quickly and they knew how Peter was, so you can imagine they were worried. “He has literally murdered people, Y/n. Not by accident—premeditated murder.” “Did they deserve it?” “I-Uh I guess—in his eyes yes. Some of it was because they started something with him.” “Then I don’t see the issue then—.” “Are you serious?!”

As an official member of the pack, you design and create gadgets, weapons, and tools for them. For example, you’re the one who created Kira’s retractable Katana belt. She was in absolute awe when you unveiled it to her, “This is so cool!” “And wanna know the best part? It can get through metal detectors.” After discovering Parrish’s nature, you made it your mission to make a special custom uniform made out of a very rare and expensive fire retardant fabric you created. “This way you’re not burning off all your clothes every time you catch fire.”

Peter loved watching you work. And he could listen to you talk about mechanics and physics for hours. He had a special seat that was close to you but not in your way and would watch in admiration as you rushed to map out equations and blueprints. Expect him to bring you a Red Bull, coffee, lunch and even dinner on days your extra busy. That usually was when you had a deadline to meet, so Peter was also a voice of reason by telling you take breaks, stay hydrated and get plenty of sleep. “You’re going to burn yourself out, sweetheart. And if you do that then mistakes happen.” “I know but I’m so close to finishing this—.” “And tomorrow is the perfect time to get that done. So let’s sit, eat, put on a movie and then sleep the night away.”

Oh y’all’s first kiss happened when you were rambling. It was either you confessing your feelings to him or going off about how your work’s been stressing you out when Peter cuts you off mid sentence by pressing his mouth to yours. He’d been waiting what felt like forever to kiss you, and you were just so adorable in your rambling he couldn’t help himself. And boy does he love kissing you—he can’t get enough of it. Only thing is Pluto will tug on y’all’s pant leg to interrupt when he needs your attention on something. And the little robot is just too cute even Peter can’t get upset at him.

If you get hurt due to a malfunction Peter is there to take your pain even if its small or rush you to the emergency room if its bad. “Peter, we could’ve handled this at home.” “You nearly severed your finger off, Y/n…..” There is always a sense of worry in Peter when you’re working on something big. After an accident that caused a mini explosion in your workshop when he wasn’t there has left Peter stressing that he’s gonna walk into your place on fire. He’s not the only one in his worries, Stiles and your uncle end up forming a ‘civilized relationship’ with the beta when it comes to making sure you’re in one piece.

Eventually the werewolf learns to communicate with your robots. Really Pluto is the one he understands the best—and the little guy is his favorite of the bunch. “Peeeeteer.” “I thought you said roses were their favorite?” “Peterrrr.” “Oh well then, sorry for misunderstanding. But roses and daisies are two different types—I thought you were supposed to be the most intelligent thing on the planet?” “Peter!” “I’m sorry, that was out of line.”

Malia really likes you. Even after her and Stiles break up you two remain close. In fact she comes to you for advice often—not just about boy or pack troubles but also about her relationship with Peter. It pleases her to know he’s genuine in his affections towards you, considering love and caring nature is not a side any of them ever see. Only you get to see that side of him, but on rare occasions when Malia is present she’s witnessed the soft side of her father. Like when assists you on holding a part while you screw it in place or take a tissue to wipe the food on the corner of your mouth. “He was never like that before he met you. From what Stiles and Scott have said, he was practically a menace to society.” “Oh I can assure you he still is…just a lovable one when I’m nearby.” “Stop talking about me. I’m literally right here.”

Peter is very protective of you. He’s the type of boyfriend who’s like, “who did this to you?” Or “touch them, you die.” This is pretty much how the pack realized he was serious about his feelings for you because when Theo targeted you as a way to hurt the pack, Peter about ripped him to shreds until Scott pulled him away. “You got lucky,” he spits at the boy, “there won’t be a next time. Touch them again—no you so much as breathe in their direction and I will rip your throat out with my teeth.” That night ended with the man snuggling against you on your bed, promising to never let anything bad happen to you.

“You might be the big bad wolf, but you’ve got a heart in you, Peter Hale.” “Don’t be fooled, my little tech wiz. That heart is reserved only for you.”

[forestfrolickingfairy78]

Hellooo, I'm in the mood to post this one shot Twilight Link x Reader ball scene I wrote a while ago. Enjoy! If you like fantasy writing and ball/dance settings, this one is for you :D

This isn't from LU, just Twilight Princess Link!

(image from Twilight Princess Manga)

The playlist I wrote this scene to, feel free to give it a listen while reading <3

Synopsis/Summary

Y/N is caught in a violent storm while trying to get home, and is attacked by the rise of another twilight beast, straying from it's world that was meant to be sealed off. When she thinks everything is over, a mysterious wolf with blue eyes saves her . A few days later her sister drags her to a ball where she meets Link, the knight to Princess Zelda where they share a dance, but she can't help but wonder if she's met him before somewhere...

An Arc of lightning split through the sky.

Violent bolts of violet crushed through the dark veil of night in the shape of teeth. Rain swelled the air and thick droplets and fell down my scalp, sending a chill as I stepped through the beaten path of Faron woods.

The hour of twilight had descended, and the last ray of sunlight faded above the horizon, slowly melting. An unforgiving chill lashed my cheek as I kept walking forward, struggling to make out the shape of twisted trees, and gnarled branches intertwining in ominous patterns.

Ordon village wasn't too far, but in the dark it made it seem like it was a never ending path, splitting into several directions I couldn't make out. My shoulders tensed as I walked forward, keeping an eye on the low light of the moon faintly illuminating the spaces between the trees, hopeful I would reach home soon. I kept my step light, but each move forward felt like I was walking through water, slowing down my muscles cramped with fear. My mind was heavy with thoughts, watching shadows lurked between branches, swiftly moving between the dark.

I pulled my shawl close, wiping rain across my skin. I took a few more steps, focussing ahead and sped up, ignoring the chill biting down my skin. For a short moment everything was clear, just rain pattering down on leaves, the gloomy spore of a firefly spiralling between the dark.

Then, thunder. This time a pale slash cracked the sky in the shape of a scythe. I lost balance, clamping my hand across my ears as the sound shook the earth. My bag fell, all the supplies I'd brought from the castle town spilling out across the floor. I reached forward, hands rummaging through wet soil and cringed, feeling it line my palms.

I took shallow breaths, nothing to be afraid of.

I grabbed onto my book, dismayed as the cover was now wet, the pages stained, and stuffed it inside my bag. While I was still low I glanced up, eyes fallen on a twisted, slow moving silhouette. My body froze as it neared, unable to recognise it's monstrous form- part humanoid and monstrous. Dark tendrils slithered out of its head like snakes, and a glowing, red pattern lined across it's body. My breath hitched in my throat as I watched.

I slowly blinked, unable to tear my gaze away, paralysed by the beast. It had fallen from the Twilight world, even though most of them had been sealed we'd heard about the stray ones, roaming in the darkest places. My teeth chattered, helpless. The earth shook once more, throwing me off balance, but it wasn't another strike of thunder. On each side black pillars encased my surroundings, and a translucent wall stretched between each one. The beast stood, watching me then leaped with a tiger's speed. Between all the darkness it's hand reached.

I screamed, helplessly clawing at the dirt, but my voice wouldn't even reach the bounds of the forest, echoing into the dark. My sight was blurred, rain and tears merging different shades of black. It's hand slithered around my skin, now fully in it's grip. It's faceless form hovered above me, and I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping it wouldn't be a long death. I waited, struggling out of it's grip and looked up, feeling it's weight off my body. The beast was now pinned to the ground by a wolf, growling as it circled the perimeter. I slid my foot away, looking behind to see the walls still trapped around me.

Underneath the pale light, the wolf's fur was shone, but when I looked closely it's eyes kept me still. Light blue like a spring sky that I'd never seen before. The wolf growled, snapping it's eyes to me as I moved, keeping me still. It bared it's teeth, then lurched forward, violently tearing into the beast. It's fangs sank into it's dark flesh, throwing it aside. What lay of the creature now remained ashes, disintegrating into the air.

The pillars vanished, now opening a new path for me. I watched the wolf move slowly, staring back at me before disappearing into the shadows. A painful throb spread over my head as I fell into a sprint, unable to stay any longer in the forest. Finally when I reached the first sign of Ordon, my legs slowed, and a painful burn seared my chest. A fire lit the distance at the opening, and when I reached home, tears fell down my face. Upstairs footsteps grew louder, and Yasmin found me, wrapping her arms around me.

"Y/N, I thought something happened to you! Why are you home so late?" My sister sat beside me, carrying the scent of spice and jasmines. The memory was still heavy as I thought of the beast, and shook my head. For a long time I watched the fire, unable to speak and squeezed her hand. It was only a slim chance that I survived, even wolves were out for prey but today, I'd been lucky. Yasmin left, returning with a hot cup of tea, seeping a bag inside the cup. The spices warmed me, and slowly I regained my voice, pulling the blanket closer. "I'm sorry I made you worry."

"But what happened? Are you hurt?" She was already pulling my sleeve up, inspecting for wounds but I tore her hand away.

"I'm not hurt." I begin, forming the story with what I remember, but everything is a blur, all black. Yasmin wiped her face, still holding me tight. "No more going out before twilight, it's too dangerous." Anger replaced her worry, but I didn't argue, staring at the ripples in the cup. Dregs of tea lined the bottom as I swirled the liquid. She was right, not the smartest idea.

Deep reds and oranges swayed in front of me from the fireplace, and rain continued to pour outside. The light warmed another shiver as I took the last sip of tea. Yasmin sighed, shaking her head. A slight smile curved her face and got up.

"I've got news, while you were out the post man came by." Water sloshed in the sink as she spoke. "There's a ball for Princess Zelda's coronation, apparently everyone in town is invited." I placed the cup down, watching her sit beside me once more, passing an envelope. Gold lettering elegantly formed the invitation, with our family name etched in cursive letters.

How strange, I didn't think anyone outside the royal family would be allowed in. I knew Yasmin would be excited, ever since we were children she would dream of wearing beautiful dresses, dancing underneath a golden chandelier. Now all she needed now was a prince.

Excitement grew on her features as she hummed.

"I'm happy you get to finally experience that." I place the letter down, unsure if I wanted to go.

"You're coming with me, don't think I'm going alone." Her tone firmed as she heard me speak, recognising the uncertainty in my voice. It's not that I didn't enjoy them, but to be around so many people I didn't know made butterflies in my stomach. "So when is it?"

"In two days! But, I already have the perfect dress for you." Yasmin winked. Two days wasn't long at all, and the more I thought about it the more I fell ill, anxiety swirling inside. How in the world did she even find a dress?

"What?"

"Just wait here."

I kept an eye on the flames, still shaky from what happened and fell into a lull. A few moments later Yasmin stood ahead of me, placing a dress against her. The colour was a vibrant emerald green, with a long flowing skirt and laced bodice embedded with gemstones. She would look so stunning in it. I clasped my hands together, admiring her. Yasmin placed a hand on her hip, tossing her behind her shoulder.

"Care to dance, madam?" She laughed, and I couldn't help share the excitement.

"Yas, you're going to be the belle of the ball."

"No you! Come see what I picked." She grabs my arms, spinning me once like we're already there. "Close your eyes!"

"Okay." I laugh, covering them. The sound of fabric unfolds, and she places it into my hands. I trail my hands along the silk, recognising the feel of it's softness.

"You can see now."

A shimmering lilac brightens the room from the dress, and in every angle it reflects different a different shade. In some it looks pink, another violet. The top was fitted like a corset, with delicate roses showered in glitter and a long skirt trailing the floor. My jaw hung down as I admired it, placing a hand to my mouth.

"How much was this?"

Yasmin rolled her eyes, "I'll take that as a thank you."

The more I look at it the more I fall in love, holding it close. "You didn't have to." Guilt fills me, feeling bad that she probably spent all her earnings on it. "Are you kidding me? This is a ball Y/N, and I'm making sure we both have the best night of our lives. We need something for ourselves too." Yasmin's tone softened, and I slowly nodded, hugging the dress. I hoped it would be a night to remember.

--

Golden light fills the room, illuminated by chandeliers hanging down the ceiling. On each table candlelights were placed in the centre, and the whole room was decorated with various flowers. I held up my dress, as I walked, trying to remain upright beside all the other attendees. Yasmin walked with a natural grace, swaying elegantly between the crowd while I struggled to maintain my posture.

Already guests filled the room, women swirled in deep, richly coloured dresses and from afar the men stood, some of them trying to ask their hand for a dance. Ahead Princess Zelda was seated on her throne, staring out with a clear gaze while a young man stood beside her, face wearing a calm mask. For a moment I watched, wondering why he looked familiar for a second but my attention tore away as Yasmin pulled my wrist. She narrowed a gaze towards a young man ahead, and realised he was staring in our direction.

"Do you mind if I dance with him?" Her cheeks mottled with heat, pressing her lips into a thin line. I looked back at him, watching as he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

"Why are you asking me? Go!" I laughed. While he took her arm I stood beside the candlelights, watching more and more couples fall into harmony underneath the chandeliers. The whole castle was decorated with flowers, wisteria swirled around the marble pillars and on other parts roses hung down, giving bursts of colour between gold.

While more people joined I stepped outside towards the balcony. The air was warming as more people joined, but outside a cool breeze swirled, and below the gardens lit up. A few guards roamed, talking. I let out a small sigh, relieved to finally have some fresh air.

I leant my arms against the rail, lost in the silence and spun my necklace between my fingers. It had been two days since the beast appeared, and each time I hoped to forget about it, the clearer the memory became. I let my fingers down, focussing on the stars but the door slipped open, and footsteps broke the quiet. Immediately I glanced over my shoulder, meeting the eyes of the young man from before. The knight beside Zelda. He paused, holding onto the handle.

His eyes took on the colour of an ocean during a storm. A face with a sharp gaze, and strong jaw but when he spoke, his gentle tone surprised me.

"I'm sorry, am I disrupting you?" I raise up my hands before talking, unsure why I lost my voice for a second. "I was about to head back inside." I say, wondering if Yasmin was still dancing, but he stops. "I'll let you enjoy your time, it's beautiful out here." The nerves tightening my chest suddenly ease, and decide to stay. Two people can share the sky, right?

As he nears, I glance at his face again, studying his eyes and wonder why they'd seem so familiar. He smiles, making me realise I'm looking for too long and stare back at the garden, noting the tender saplings and bluebells glowing under the moon.

"May have your name?" He says.

"Umm, Y/N—" I pause, then shake my head. "Have we met before?" Surprise forms between his features, but he quickly laughs, shrugging.

"I'm not sure, maybe. I'm Link." The name doesn't sound familiar, and suddenly I feel stupid, wishing the ground would crack open and swallow me. I tighten my hand along the rail, staring at the sky again for comfort.

Link speaks, "is this your first ball?"

"Is it that obvious?" I laugh, keeping my hand close my face.

"First time for everything right?" I try to let my shoulders loose, biting down my lip. Despite the temperature dropping, a sudden comfort warmed me standing beside him. As if I'd known him before. I didn't want the moment to end, slowly continuing our conversation until the chill seeps into my bones.

We head back, and he opens the door leading me inside. In front of me the ballroom glowed underneath a dozen golden lights, looking more beautiful each time. I kept walking, keeping an eye between the couples and try to spot Yasmin. Link quickly came beside me, standing in front.

"Y/N, I was hoping that we could share a dance?" Link reached his hand out, tilting his head slightly with a kind smile. Unable to form any words I simply nod, taking his hand guiding me towards the floor illuminated by all the golden lights.

A symphony played, sweet notes slowing down time. He placed a hand behind my back, and we fell into a harmonious rhythm. Time felt like it slowed as we moved with the music, and everything else faded.

It was just us, lost in each other's eyes.

[wingedblooms]

Owlish Elain

This is a Maasverse post, so there are probably spoilers for all three series below.

With owls in the title (statue) and cover (eyes, thanks to SerpentWyrd on Reddit) reveals for hofas, I am once again thinking about their connections to Elain. I’ve mentioned owls repeatedly across different posts, most recently in Elain's witch series, so I thought it would be fun to compile all of the connections here. If I’ve missed any connections, I’d love to know about it in comments and/or reblogs. 

Connections to mythology:

Elain's story is believed to be inspired by the myth of Blodeuwedd, a spring maiden who is transformed into an owl in Welsh mythology. Like Elain, owls were believed to have mystical and prophetic powers, and the myths surrounding them were full of contradictions. They were associated with mythical beings and ancient goddesses, who at one point in history, represented a continuum of life and death (life, death, and rebirth). They were feared as bearers of death, and were admired as otherworldly messengers and solemn protectors. As a symbol linked to Athena, the goddess of wisdom in Greek mythology, they were viewed as a good omen: a sign of victory in battle. Some believed they had an inner light that enabled them to see in the dark (and after years of research, we know their sight and hearing have been adapted for hunting, giving them excellent precision; some can even hunt on sound alone in complete darkness). They were also viewed as a bad omen: a sign of catastrophe and death. This dark aspect is connected to Lilith, a woman, demon, and goddess in various legends who is linked to witchcraft. In Roman mythology, owls were believed to be transformed witches who drank the blood of infants. 

Connections to witches:

Owls and witches are connected in mythology, so it isn’t surprising that Sarah gives at least one of her witch clans similar features. Feyre and Nesta point out Elain's figurative claws and teeth in acosf/acosf bonus content, which may be a hint of what she hides in the shadows: a beautiful ironteeth monster. Ironteeth witches were gifted iron from the Three-Faced Goddess to prevent magic from pulling them away. It acted as an anchor to the earth, which makes me wonder just how many witches possess some form of Sight, and whether Elain’s collection of iron serves the same purpose. The biggest connection by far, though, is that ironteeth witches also blink into place a clear eyelid, similar to what owls possess, to protect their vision as they fly. Elain often blinks like an owl when she uses her Sight, and her sister, Feyre, blinks when she is released from the Cauldron's mystic-like power as it traveled across the battlefield in various animal forms. 

Connections to shifting form:

Nesta and Amren share otherworldly eyes, a connection that was foreshadowed by a family dinner conversation where Nesta boldly questioned Amren about her eyes. @kimsnnn noticed this conversation parallels Elain’s questions about Amren’s form at another family dinner in acofas. If this is a hint (and I hope it is), Elain and Amren might share otherworldly forms. Rhys makes a connection between them at another family dinner and interestingly, it also centers on transformation: “Some were as lovely as you, Elain,” Rhys said from beside Feyre, “from the outside. But once they set foot into the arena of battle, they became as bloodthirsty as Amren.” (acosf) We've seen Amren’s form on the battlefield and know it behaves like an otherworldly bird of prey. And in that same battle, we’ve seen Elain appear suddenly and take out a king’s throat to protect her family. I’m just hoping this transformation, if it happens, also comes with wings. 

Connections to healing:

From what we learned in Tower of Dawn (tod), healers bridge life and death. Their light can bind wounds and devour darkness. They can sense Death when it is near. They are also linked to owls through the goddess Silba and Maeve used this knowledge to her advantage to create her own secret army of protectors. The best weapon against the Valg (also referred to as demons) was not a blade, but healing light. Sarah describes the various owls carved into the healers’ tower (Torre Cesme, meaning Tower of Dawn), and one in particular stands out: “Even though it perched atop a gnarled branch of iron that flowed across the door itself, wings flared wide as it prepared to leap into the skies, it seemed … alert. Aware of all who passed that door, who perhaps gazed too long in the direction of the workshop.” (tod) This owl reminds me of those with the gift of Sight, like Elain. She also maintains her own herb garden, like a healer, and is consistently compared to the dawn. Add the possibility of shifting into a bird of prey, and we’ve got very powerful connections here. 

Connections to the song of the wind:

When Elain tracks down the Suriel, she notes that it travels like the breath of the western wind. In other words, it travels like an owl: a shadow on the wind. Elain starts moving similarly after this scene and continues to surprise others with her swift appearance. It’s probably also intentional that the first question she asks Azriel relates to his ability to fly, which he connects to the song of the wind. Witches also possess power related to wind and use it to create brooms that allow them to fly. I wouldn’t be surprised if Elain has learned to move like the wind by watching others (especially Azriel, whom she observes closely) and listening to its call. 

Connections to those with Sight: 

When Feyre is bound to the Cauldron, she travels with it as it flies through the world. It continuously shifts animal form (like Urd) when it searches for someone, but it begins in what I assume is a bird of prey. Elain seems to possess the ability to move like this fluid form with her Cauldron-gifted Sight. This might even be how mystics travel and search for answers, which often first requires them to find specific creatures. The Suriel’s comment about seeing Elain’s doe eyes search for it across the realm is a big hint, as is Feyre’s comment on Elain wandering in her Sight.  

If Elain isn’t connected to owls, my friends, we riot. 😆

[shadowsageingempress]

Tierlist of the Masterquest costumes from Hyrule Warriors Legends.

Costumes and explanations below the cut

I don't quite know why they decided to make Warriors' tunic and hat purple. But I think it looks really good on him, especially with the blue scarf. They blend very well together.

This outfit for Impa looks a lot like her Great Sea costume, but a bit darker and with a black cloak. Despite those seemingly minor differences, she looks amazing in red and black. And the cyan feathers are a nice touch.

Sheik's Master Quest outfit seems to lean hard into the ninja aspect, with the black and dark blue. I think it looks awesome. My only minor gripe is that the hair color could have been changed, but it's not too noticeable, so it doesn't matter too much.

I think I might actually like Lana's Master Quest costume more than her default one. I love how it was made to resemble Cia, and the colors work very well on her, especially with her hair color changing. I especially like her cloak and hair clip.

Valor's costume takes clear inspiration from Princess Hilda from Link Between Worlds, so you could use that for roleplaying if you want. I don't have that much to say about this. I like the dress, I love the dark hair, it's an overall solid costume.

Yet another one of Ganondorf's costumes that slap harder than he does. The colors for this one are incredible and mesh perfectly together, especially the teal centerpiece of his reddish armor. His hair is also marvelous.

Much like Valor's Hilda cosplay, Darunia's costume based on Darmani's ghost looks amazing. It's a much larger change than his Great Sea costume, but I think it works better. The arm tattoos and slash mark across the stomach are the cherry on top.

Similarly to Darunia, Ruto's costume is based on her Termina lookalike, Lulu. Also like his, this design absolutely slaps. The little designs on her fin-skirt are my favorite part, and kind of remind me of false eyes seen on fish. The purple is also pretty.

Agitha still appears to be in a goth phase. But for some reason, I think it works a bit better than her Great Sea costume. Maybe because her face paints don't clash with her dark clothes as much. Whatever the case, she looks good.

As if Midna wasn't already peak character design, they somehow made her look even cooler! The dark stone of the Fused Shadows and red markings already work perfectly with her design, but the shadow beast theme of her costume is executed perfectly. I do think that it would have been cool if her hair color was also changed, but I understand why they didn't.

When I saw Zant in this outfit after obtaining it, I actually said "Oh Hell yes!" out loud. Much like Midna, his shadow beast themed outfit not only fits him, but it looks incredible. The darker colors of his armor and robes with the red streaks are exactly what he needed, and even though I didn't notice the purple sash at first, it looks great.

Fi's boss outfit is beautiful. It adds a bit of a more metallic hint to her body, which works very well given her nature. But theming aside, she just looks so cool.

Ghirahim also seems to be going through a goth phase with this one, although I think it might be in reference to his true spirit/sword form. The dark clothing contrasts with his pale hair and skin, but it works incredibly well for him. It fits with the idea of him having a pretty face which hides ugly intentions (if you get that reference, you get a cookie).

I can definitely see what they were going for with Cia's costume and how it takes inspiration from Warriors. Initially, I didn't really care for this one, but it kind of grew on me. The white tattoos and blue cloak definitely make it work.

Even though I don't really know what Volga's costume is based on, I still think that he looks really cool. The copper, orange and gold look really good and add to the fire dragon look. I don't think it's any more effective than the normal design, but I still like it.

Even though Wizzro only looks slightly different from normal, I think it works. The more vibrant colors somehow fit the "dark magic curse creature" vibe really well, arguably more so than his darker default outfit.

Bonus:

The Guardian of Time outfits for Lana and Cia look very beautiful. The white clothes look good on Cia and Lana looks cute with that hat. It kind of looks like they're wearing wedding dresses. I did deduct points for the costume changing Cia's skin tone, because I think she'd look pretty. But I'm not touching the implications of that otherwise.

[intuitive-revelations]

Fun thing I just discovered while researching something.

You know how I have sometimes suggested that "Jewel" (from Return of the Daleks - and more recently Good Omens S1, thanks to a VFX artist copying and pasting from TARDIS wiki) is actually the original, Pythian name of Gallifrey, maybe in Old High Gallifreyan?

Originally, this was just a canon-welding theory, trying to explain the different name-styles for planets in Gallifrey's planetary system:

Rassilonian: Gallifrey, Polarfrey, Pazithi Gallifreya Pythian: Jewel, Karn, Tersurus, Pazithi (no Gallifreya)

With "-frey" possibly being a suffix meaning something similar to 'world'/'people', with Gallifrey possibly translating either to "shadow-people/world" (a la the 'they that walk in the shadows' literal translation) or simply 'homeworld'. Thus maybe Karn might have a similar, alternative name that fell to the wayside because of the Sisterhood's continued habitation - something like "kalafrey" (based on 'kalarash', the Old High Gallifreyan word for 'fire', and Lungbarrow's description of 'firey' Karn)?

Regardless, there wasn't really any evidence for this, with it just being an extrapolation partially inspired by Gallifrey's copyright-free renaming in Faction Paradox.

Well, turns out there is a little bit of evidence, if you take the Doctor's probably metaphorical words literally...

From "Old Girl", a Titan Comics Tenth Doctor story:

[ID: The Tenth Doctor and Cindy overlook a scene on Ancient Gallifrey, where Shayde-like "Time Sentinels" throw time-sensitive Gallifreyans into the Untempered Schism.

Doctor: It's a naturally-occuring rift, a window into the time vortex... the Untempered Schism. This is where Time Lord Novices are initiated...

Cindy: Time Lords...? What? Is this your homeworld?

Doctor: Gallifrey, yes. Before it was Gallifrey.

Doctor: In the deep distant past, before the Time War, before Rassilon and his Black Scrolls, before time travel was even invented. Rifts like this schism occur naturally here... Exposure is said to have influenced Gallifreyan evolution... It's what makes some of us into time sensitives.

Cindy: Okay, not from around here, but that doesn't look like an average initiation ceremony.]

...

"Gallifrey, yes. Before it was Gallifrey"

(using the comic text bolding)

Maybe... when it was "Jewel"?

The scene is also explicitly set pre-Rassilon and before the invention of time travel. How much earlier, is less clear, as there's a few continuity curiosities it raises, such as the Untempered Schism being described as "naturally occurring", going against "Tempered"'s linking of it to the Caldera.

Speaking of which, we also see a city that looks a lot like the Citadel, albeit without a dome. It also still has aircars flying around it, suggesting we're not too far in the past. the area around it also a lot more grassy than we're used to, though we can put this down to the increasing dryness of the planet over the years (see Old Habour and the draining of the Sea of Life).

He later mentions that they're in the Dark Times, "millions, billions of years before [his] time, before even the Time Lords". The dating isn't particularly helpful, between it's vaguery and how inconsistent writers are with Time Lord civilisation's age, but it does at least line up ok with even the most extreme ages we've been given ("a billion years of Time Lord history" - from Rassilon in The End of Time, which I far prefer over the mere millennia or even "centuries" given by Legacy of Gallifrey and some Big Finish stories).

While I'm still trying to deduce exactly when this is and if this city is the Citadel itself (in the middle of the building time-lapse in The Timeless Children) or just a reused design for the Pythian capital, which potentially has big implications for the history of the Caldera, the Schism, the Vampire War etc., it does at least line up with my Jewel-renaming theory, if we do indeed take "before it was Gallifrey" literally...

[blackstarchanx3new]

FSR Rambles 14 mental illnesses-

Cutting from Dark's tantrum, it becomes evidently obvious Dark isn't angry at Shadow in the way he's seen people show anger.

Smth to consider:

Everyone who's angry so far has been...Explosive. (Vio is like, the only one who's just been steadily annoyed.)

Blue and Shadow both get pretty explosive when they're mad, Vaati too. So...Dark doesn't have much to go off of in the way of nuance in showing he's angry/mad at someone.

Literally zero to one hundred.

Dark even outright asks Shadow Link "Am I mad at you" likely because he's just...kind of mad Shadow and Vio are close and he's jealous but Dark's understanding of his OWN emotions are basically none.

He's even "Embarrassed" and thinks he should have looked at Blue's memories to get a better grasp on anger.

Don't do it Dark-

Dark's flip flopping between his attempts to show anger and his natural mellow personality is night and day.

Switching to having sharp teeth again to reflect Shadow Link.

1st panel is pretty evident: He's just saying shit that Blue has been feeling lmao.

Dark again speaks in the 3rd person here. Twice now it's been used to try and speak about himself from someone else's perspective.

Vio's afraid of him, but the previous time he did it, his "Yay Dark Link" line if you remember was smth he WANTED Vaati to feel about him.

Shadow is rightly confused as HELL about what Dark is even talking about. Dark not so casually does conform though he was the one who was messing with Vio earlier.

The three panels of Dark's face are some of my favorites because it shows just how little this conversation matters to him from a serious angle.

His act of being pissed breaks immediately with his inability to hold back a grin at how silly he feels he's acting at the moment.

Dude's having a fun time but Shadow's patience has run dry and he snaps at Dark to "just answer me!"

While the Triforce of power glows.

This makes Dark stop what he's doing and freeze up.

I'm sure this page confused people. Because it's kinda. Weird.

Dark stops talking and is just frozen up.

Shadow doesn't just ask him a question, but an outright demand while his Triforce glows.

Dark starts screaming with a terrified look on his face and elaborates plainly what he's doing there, he covers his own mouth quickly after.

Shadow's disturbed by this interaction and looks down at the Triforce on his hand.

So basically if you were wondering:

Shadow made Dark talk here, albeit on accident using the power of the Triforce.

Which is why Dark started screaming and twitching because he had no choice but to respond.

With his autonomy ripped away from him Dark is rightfully terrified of Shadow Link.

His fear is so strong he holds his hat close to himself for comfort and hides his face, apologizing his loyalties lie with Vaati and not Shadow Link.

Shadow tries in vain to clear up the identity confusion.

Okay but from Dark's perspective "Gannon's" just being a lying weirdo. X'D

Dark knows "The truth" and he can't really comprehend why "Gannon" is still keeping up the lie that he's a different person asking plainly if Shadow's afraid Dark wont' like him.

Shadow's obviously very fed up, reminding the audience and Dark that he has no fucking clue who Dark even is at this point.

Fun thing about the panel where Dark mimics Shadow's face, the panel of annoyed Shadow and the panel proceeding it both share some line art. X'D

Dark was "mimicing" again but goes right back to his actual feelings.

He doesn't actually care about Shadow's identity crisis at all when it comes to not telling anyone else about it. Stuttering while he talks.

He's confused why Shadow gets to "Lie" in this instance but Vio's lies were bad and deserving of anger.

Keep Dark's confusion over lying in mind.

2nd to last panel talk:

Shadow just, has no idea how to deal with this dude.

Like it's evident Shadow has a hard time keeping up with Dark's nonsense but it's REALLY evident there.

"Wtf is he talking about?" face is pretty funny.

Dark being shocked they might hate Shadow more for lying than being Gannon is a fun assumption on Dark's part, leading Shadow to ask outright

"Are you trying to give me advice???"

From Shadow's perspective, it sure does seem like Dark is trying to give him advice. X'D When Dark is just saying how he feels.

Fun questions from Dark...

If Shadow can "Switch around what you are" ...a phrase that's very up for debate wtf he actually meant by that statement,

Can Dark do it too?

Shadow seems to take it as Dark asking if he could be a good guy too, and says "yeah sure why not".

Whatever Dark DID mean by that, he seems to take Shadow's reply well and laughs to himself about it with a very pleased expression on his face.

Keep that, in mind.

Dark sits back down and asks Shadow a pretty...weird question.

"Do you think Vio will still want your kisses if he knows who you are, King Shadow Link?"

Again showing Dark's focus is on really random things that pertain to his interests. Because he doesn't ask Shadow if Vio will TRUST HIM, or still LOVE HIM, or even if he'll still want to be his friend.

He asks if Vio will still kiss him.

Which is like, super specific.

When Shadow's like "idk"

he gets giddy and resounds Shadow FOR SURE should tell him the truth.

Why?

Well that face really says it all.

Dark in some way thinks Shadow would be an obsticle to Vio's affection... HUh.

Wonder where he got that from...

Cough cough BLUE-

This line is the nail in the coffin for Shadow as he's full blown pissed off now.

Dark's perpetual jabs at Vio have finally made him crack.

There's for sure a hint of jealousy in Shadow's actions too.

Dark exhaling pollen as he sighs is probs only amusing to me.

His SASS in the words "...Is FIGHTING all you two know how to do?"

Clearly referencing Vaati in this statement, clear annoyance in his face.

Dark is already fed up with both Shadow and Vaati's quickness to fight at the drop of the hat.

Dark does take up his gigantic sword and gets ready to fight.

His lines are pretty telling about how he feels this is an obligation to make Shadow Link "have fun".

"...If you have fun, at least that'll make one of us...right?" - Dark finds fights boring and meaningless and really doesn't wanna do this, but since it'll make Shadow "have fun" he's up for playing along.

The eye on his chest looks distinctly bored with this as well.

his next line is kinda, weird.

"If we win, we get to celebrate...so there's that...yay..."

This line is meant to be in reference to Vio and Green's fight, and how afterwards Shadow and Vio celebrated.

His little "...I'm trying to get excited about it" explains his little "yay" to hype himself up.

Dark focuses on defense in this fight for the most part, blocking Shadow's attacks.

"Are you having fun yet? Can we stop soon?"

Dark's really not feeling this fight and just wants it to be over.

He takes another page out of Vio's book an tries to make his opponent unable to fight.

In this case, he disarms Shadow by parrying his sword out of his hands.

Dark's murderous expression paired with Shadow's face reflecting in his blade is a pants crapping image if you were in Shadow's shoes I'm sure but for the audience it's cool as hell.

Dark, again, had the chance to hurt someone majorly and chose not too.

Which really reflects the kind of person he actually is I feel.

Dark chooses to give mercy to people.

He just lets Shadow fall onto his ass.

Though, don't get Dark's question mixed up. X'D

He did not ask Shadow "Did that hurt?" out of kindness or concern. He asked it out of genuine curiosity.

Shadow has a second of hesitation before slamming that sword full force into Dark.

Ouch.

Dark had a hard time with that swing.

His continuous mumbling about how he really doesn't want to fight are just kinda sad.

The visual of Dark swinging this huge ass sword around, and trying to balance again once he got Shadow off him is so oddly cute.

Shadow reflects on how he's filling the role as the "bad guy" here because of Dark's behavior as well get into with the next page.

I mean. He's right.

Dark's just defending himself against Shadow's attacks. He's not trying to hurt Shadow.

Not actually attacking or retreating is gonna wind up in Dark getting hurt, so Shadow wonders if this is the right choice, considering his options.

If Dark was fighting back, this would be an easier moral fight. But Dark isn't. He's just defending himself or disarming Shadow so Shadow can't try to hurt him.

Dark being a moral mess to deal with is a continuous theme...

As Dark's behavior leads him to be very hard to deal with as an enemy or an alley.

Shadow decides that he IS gonna fight Dark still but gets rudely interrupted by a flashbang.

Ouch. Not the eyes.

Dark covering his chest eyeball. Ouch.

Shadow cowering in the Shadows lmfao. Poor dude.

Poor dark has 3 eyes that got hurt in that nonsense. Vaati's team spirit just ain't there.

It's a sad thing to consider Dark has gotten almost nothing but pain in his short time existing as a conscious individual.

Vaati very rudely grabs Dark's face in a very possessive manor. Because he sucks. XD He lumps in Shadow Link with Link in how the curse functions... which Dark tries to interject with...Something, but Vaati tells him to "Stfu"

Their interaction through this whole thing is just...This: X'D

Vaati is very sick of Dark speaking, at all. So just tells Dark to be quiet.

The repeated idea of Dark not liking lies/people misinterpreting things is just a thing to note.

Vaati thinks he can get hooked up with 2 evil Links.

Little does he know-

Ya know we'll get back to that...

I just wanna point out to the audience:

Shadow is a huge dick here.

In trying to insult Vaati and built himself up he just tore Dark down which clearly hurt Dark's feelings.

There was no need to say that Shadow. 😭

Oh but there was...

To show the audience Shadow's still a bit of a douche bag...

Dark mimicking Vaati's pissed off expression is so funny to me and only me.

I know like, NONE of yall read the pillowfort excusive comic.

But it's cannon Dark's ears are ticklish so that's why he laughed when Vaati whispered to him.

He gets more serious when he realizes Vaati's sayin' smth important and whispers back.

What Vaati and Dark are implied to have said I'll get into in the next page.

Shadow ain't a fan of the secrecy.

Turns out Dark just told Vaati what he saw.

Which was smooching and hugging lmfao.

Vaati proceeds to laugh his ass off about affection he'll never receive.

Dark is utterly confused about being patted on the head.

Dark just sits there thinking to himself over what Vaati's saying + Vaati's action.

Welp. Vaati's being a dick.

Dark plays with Vaati's hair idly while he talks shit.

And we get to a very hilarious panel imo. Dark hugging Vaati and Vaati being utterly disgusted with the action.

Thoughts:

Why did Dark hug Vaati?

Well there's a few reasons he could have

He could have KNOWN it made Shadow jealous. He took Dark rubbing his head as clearance they can touch each other just fine. He just likes Vaati and wants to touch him.

Shadow's blatant jealousy isn't missed by Vaati either.

Just gonna point out, the background hue keeps shifting to match emotions.

Purple for fear, red for anger and the green for jealousy.

Vaati's an asshole so he rubs Dark's head in an attempt to make Shadow jealous further.

Vaati is nothing if not an emotional manipulator.

Dark appreciates the head scritches at least.

Again Vaati seems to get smth wrong, and Dark tries to correct him and gets cut off.

For shoving his finger in Dark's face Dark unceremoniously licks it.

Which is funny as hell to me, especially how one of Vaati's eyes glares at him for this but he's too busy trying to be manipulative to tell Dark off. X'D

The smug look on Dark's face would lead one to think he knows it pissed Vaati off that he did that. XD

Vaati's persuasion is shit, so Shadow sees right through it.

Huh...Funny Shadow only seems to humanize Dark slightly when Vaati's abuse tactics used on Shadow are thrown back into his face on full display.

FuNNY HOW THAT WORKS.

Also Shadow's dialogue's important so I'll expand on it.

Him admitting he did shit wrong. Yay character growth. UwU

He can relate to being trapped. Bro was trapped in Link's shadow and SUFFERED so...it's safe to say he knows how Vaati's imprisonment feels.

Shadow dropping the "Family" muhahaha. He loves his dumbass boys. UwU

Vaati continues to suck.

The sudden gripping on Dark's shoulder makes Dark wince. Ouch.

Omf. That line hurts.

Vaati and Shadow's relationship is one sided pain and hurt with the promise of love that never comes.

Shadow broke out of that cycle by breaking the mirror but still has to put up with Vaati's crap.

Dark views this with expectant eyes.

Vaati's monologue here just reflects his time after the events of the minish cap manga.

Shadow's response, my boy grew up lots.

He clearly feels bad Vaati went through that but say it with me

IT AIN'T HIS PROBLEM.

Haha oh Shadow's words are very telling about how he feels about the past.

"Vio means it this time...right?"

His wants now are just stuff like "I wanna have a bed!"

reminder from the flashback he DIDN'T HAVE ONE.

He wants to spend time with Zelda and Link in a meaningful way.

visual references to BOTW Link and Tetra because muhahaha.

Shadow's words about "Failure" is kinda telling.

Being a villian in a Zelda story means you fail. The hero will virtually always defeat you and you'll be left with nothing but pain.

Shadow wants no part of that shit...

But his reasons is kinda...selfish?

He doesn't say "being bad is bad because you're bad!" he says "Fuck I don't wanna fail anymore."

He settles on a life he finds obtainable because Gannon and Vaati's dreams are INSANLY UNOBTAINABLE not because he doesn't want those things too.

Because let's be real if there were no consequences...Shadow would do whatever the fuck he wanted. XD

Vaati's not the only one who can project! SHADOW CAN DO IT TOO.

Failing at the hands of the hero over and over is smth Shadow feels Gannon's emotions on. Dude is so sick of it.

Fun chameo from our favorite hero ever.

Navi.

Jk. Hero of Time...I'm sure he'll never be relevant ever again.

Shadow's acceptance of a lowkey life pisses Vaati off.

The perpetual failures being slung in his face was just one too many.

Vaati's reached his limits of anger at both Dark and Shadow Link.

Oh.

He didn't squeeze him like a squeaky toy this time...

If you're wondering "Why didn't Dark dodge?"

Last time Vaati carried Dark off and when he DID try to hurt Dark he tried to slam him into the ground, not CRUSH HIM.

Dark didn't perceive being held alone by Vaati as a danger so didn't bother trying to escape.

Shadow's terror at this action like, really makes it sink in Vaati means business.

Vaati's sick of everyone at this point omf. Dark just stays limp as hell which sucks for him.

Shadow channaling the power of the Triforce of power decides to fuck Vaati's shit up.

This was 100% inspired by the Guardian/Blight lasers lmfao because that's FUNNY.

It really sucks to me we don't really see what the Triforce of Power's abilities...ARE.

So I'm just going with "Shit Gannon can do in other incarnations" because that's all I have to go off of. 🤷

"Turning the wieldier into a pig monster" was smth I saw but that only really happens to Gannon with the explanation that he's losing control over his piece and himself? So...Shadow switching to pig mode here wouldn't make much sense. X'D

And YAAAAY DARK LINK IS SAVED.

Due to pure selfishness on Shadow's part-

Okay look I'm not gonna sugar coat it.

Shadow didn't save Dark because he cares about who Dark is. He saved him because how Vaati treated HIM was being put onto Dark. Shadow's projecting to hell onto Dark due to the abuse he faced and ONLY helped him due to that reason.

Round about say to say: He doesn't pity Dark here, he pities himself.

"That's not what matters right now." - Shadow said like a liar.

This wasn't a logical choice in the slightest and Shadow has no justification for his outburst in this regards because it was 100% anger at his own past abuse being slung in his face and has nothing to do with Dark the person being abused.

Shadow just as an afterthought asking if Dark is alright kinda sements that.

IMAGE LIMITS ARE SATAN'S MISTRESSES.

So I guess I'll pick this back up later.

[marrowlyavoideddisaster]

hey. hey. you should read my fan fiction.

here's the link

and the first chapter is under the cut

You've always loved working with costumes and props. You were fascinated to no end by how movies could turn lifeless sculptures and empty costumes into living, breathing characters.

It's no wonder that you ended up working as a preservation artist for the special effect exhibits featured in the local pop culture museum. You really do love your work, but sometimes you question your career choice when you're up before sunrise, (not that impressive, given the short winter days) waiting at a bus stop under the misting clouds.

Now what you might find yourself asking is: why you, a perfectly sane and reasonable night owl would be up at this hour? The answer is clear. All the blame falls on the movie industry. This might seem strange, or perhaps even illogical. "Surely movie producers don't expect anyone to need their costumes after filming," and "Nobody in the film industry actively antagonizes art preservationists, least of all one lowly museum worker," but that would simply be wrong.

For you see, anyone that refuses to make props and costumes even remotely capable of holding up against the inexorable march of time is automatically an inconvenience and mortal enemy to you in particular.

One of the older, more fragile and decaying costumes had a piece broken off of it after closing. Nobody actually touched it as all the pieces are either trapped inside glass display boxes, or hiding several feet behind a crowd-control rope.

It just happens that whatever artists decided to make that particular suit chose a type of foam that starts disintegrating after 15 or so years of soft, indirect light and low-to-moderate humidity like some sort of rich lady’s over-pampered, over-engineered purse dog with 17 different diseases. And so, you've been called over at too-fucking-early o'clock to deal with it before opening.

As you vacantly stare into the distance, something strange catches your eye. Across the street, a row of stores sit. They're the same ones you see every day you take this route, but at this time of day the windows are dark, still not opening time.

Your eyes settle on a dingy, narrow alleyway, concrete ground muddied from rain. It's nestled between an unlabeled building with only a sliding garage door on its front, and a small dance school with unlit dance floors and mirrors visible through the darkened second floor window.

In the alleyway there are two oval shapes, glistening with a distinctive glassy glint. They're shifting slightly, with a sparkly graininess that you're not sure is actually there, or is just due to the faint lighting creating static. They look like they’re part of a larger silhouette behind them, enshrouded in shadows that the weak light that creeps out from the street just can’t seem to kill. 

You wouldn't really know how to describe it. Under the dim halos of yellow street lamps, you want to say it's a figure, but that might just be the sleepiness talking, because the proportions are way off to be human.

You check the time and see that your bus won't be here for another 15 or so minutes, so you decide to investigate. Crossing the street, you can make out a little bit more detail.

It does appear to be some sort of figure, slumped over and propped up against a stack of discarded wooden pallets that had been left leaning against the wall.

You walk up to the entrance of the alleyway and stare at the figure some more while you stand under the dance studio's little overhang to avoid the slight drizzle. The first detail that sticks out to you is its absurdly long nose and plasticky white skin.

Correct in your assumptions that it wasn't human, you relax a little bit. You're glad that you aren't being nosy about some poor person just sleeping in an alleyway. Instead, you're being nosy about some strange abandoned doll, which is much more within your scope.

You realize that the strange, staticky shapes you first noticed are glasses. You assume that there's some sort of color-shifting material glued behind the glasses to create that static effect, you wonder where you could buy some for your own projects.

Weighing your curiosity against the risks, you step over to crouch down in front of the doll to examine it more closely. You work with a fair amount of dummies, mannequins, dolls and puppets, so you're decently familiar with common practices in the crafts. You often need to be able to look at a project and know from a glance what steps need to be taken to preserve it. In spite of this, you're having a hard time figuring out the make of this specific doll.

It looks fancy enough to be custom-made, based on the unique face and considerable size. Standing up, it would probably land just around your mid-chest, in comparison. Then again, somebody clearly left it just sitting out like trash out here, not even properly sheltered from rain under the awning. You decide to test the articulation in the arms.

To your delight, you find ball joints that roll smoothly when you move them. Gently setting back down the arms, you grab its head with both your hands and lift it up for a better look. It has little red dots on its exaggerated cheeks and greasy black hair swept up in a mullet.

To your trepidation, the strange doll has a ventriloquist dummy's jaw as well. You've always been freaked out by their weird, detached jaws. It's ironic considering that working with puppets and strange costumes is your literal job .

Now, that isn't to say you're afraid of puppets in general! You're quite fond of marionettes and stop-motion figurines, but ventriloquist dummies in particular have always spooked you way worse than any of the horror movie props you work on. Something about those jaws   with their unmoving lips and jerky way they moved always set you on edge. The image of fake teeth biting down and crunching through skin and flesh unwillingly flashes through your mind.

Nevertheless, you'll be as thorough as possible. You pick the puppet up and feel around the back for the jaw's control mechanism, but you don't find anything. Maybe it's just for aesthetics?

The hands of the puppet are the most intricate, all ivory-white hinges and telescoping, layered articulation that can fold over itself and move with the same fluidity as human hands. It's beautiful craftsmanship. Part of you wants to figure out how to take them apart so you can study the mechanisms and improve your own technique, but the preservation worker in you screams about fragile parts and lack of replacement pieces.

In any manner, this puppet seems to be abandoned and unwanted… and it is your job to preserve and repair things like this. Your workplace doesn't mind if you use their space for your own projects so long as it doesn't get in the way of actual work and you're in between personal projects right now, so you think you'll just take this thing with you to your job. Then once you're done with work, you can start on fixing up and modifying this new plaything of yours. 

Looking at the time again, you hastily sling the puppet over your shoulder, its limp head rolling as you manhandle it. You rush to get back to the bus stop. It's only a few minutes until it's meant to arrive.

Nobody on the bus minds your extra passenger. It isn't the first time you've proudly dragged some unwieldy contraption or elaborate costume onto public transport, nor will it be the last. The middle-aged bus driver with big, colorful earrings just gives you a tired look of recognition: she's used to your antics by now. 

The trip goes by quickly, with you entertaining yourself on the last stretch of walking from the bus stop to your museum with the stares and weird looks you receive from the handful of people up and moving this early.

Now you've made it through the building and into your little backstage workshop, complete with bins of craft supplies and jerry-rigged tools.

You clear off a space on your personal workbench affectionately named 'the operation table,' for being made of dull stainless steel and having remarkably similar proportions to a twin-size bed, or per the namesake: operating table. Not that you've ever seen one in person. A surgical table, that is.

[lucky-clover-gazette]

The Big Picture

The Four Swords manga, adapted/retold using both canon and additional scenes, with a focus on Vio and Shadow's individual characters and ambiguous relationship.

Prologue: Evil Interview

He gains sentience inside an elevator.

He is a cloud of charcoal-colored smoke, taking solid form as the world moves beneath his feet. Feet—he has feet. He has legs. He has a torso. He has a chest, and a heart that beats within it... oh, that might become a problem.

Read the rest on ao3 or under the cut:

JANUARY

He gains sentience inside an elevator.

He is a cloud of charcoal-colored smoke, taking solid form as the world moves beneath his feet. Feet—he has feet. He has legs. He has a torso. He has a chest, and a heart that beats within it... oh, that might become a problem.

The top floor. He’s going to the top floor. It’s the only floor, the only button, lit up blood-red on the metal panel. Machinery churns as he’s lifted upwards, his pointed ears twitching at the unpleasant sound.

A body, a face, and a brain. Eyes, a nose. Hair—not blonde, he much prefers purple. A black tunic and hat like a gnarled phantom limb. It sways nervously behind him as the doors slide open.

The office lobby is dimly-lit, its sole window revealing an even darker landscape. A mountain range is silhouetted in the distance, the land beneath it peppered with dense forests and eerily glowing lakes. Over the trees he spots monstrous figures—dragons, he somehow knows—patrolling the air. It feels unlike daytime or nighttime (not that he's seen either), too unsettling to be calm but too calm to be unsettling.

He knows things, he's realizing, as the elevator doors close behind him. He is a new creation, yet he knows the difference between day and night.

He must have been here before. Not here, as in this lobby, but alive—knowledgeable about the world and his role within it. But that part of himself, the part that isn’t new, the part that simply understands how to exist… he can't fully access it. Not in a way that matters. Smoke still licking at his heels, he feels like an echo, a ghost, a—

“Shadow,” The hinox office receptionist scrutinizes him with one narrowed eye. “Shadow Link.”

He points to himself with a sharp-nailed finger. “Who, me?”

The receptionist sighs and points towards a wooden door. “They’re waiting for you in there.”

─────────────────

‘In there’ is a cavernous conference room, devoid of windows or overhead lights. He—Shadow Link—supposes he belongs in a place like this, illuminated only by tall pillar candles dripping wax onto the linoleum floor. The table in the center of the room could hypothetically seat about thirty people of his size, but only currently seats one. Shadow Link stares into the darkness beyond the candlelight’s reach, barely identifying a form at the table’s opposite end.

From what he can see, the form does not even remotely resemble his own. It has a circular body and several wings, an odd crescent shape on its head like a crown. Its stillness unnerves him, as does its silence. It’s only his best guess that he should take a seat at his own end of the table.

Once comfortable (enough), Shadow Link clears his throat. “Uh… hello?”

A large glowing eyeball opens in the distance, startling him to roll backward in his chair. Sheepishly, he scoots himself back into place.

“Shadow Link,” a voice says, reedy and dry with unmasked impatience. “I am sure you’re aware of why you’ve been brought here today.”

Not at all, he thinks, and wonders if he’s the kind of person who admits his own ignorance like a fool. Given that sentiment, he quickly decides he is not.

“Of course,” he says, clasping his hands on the table.

“I see,” says the giant eyeball, and Shadow Link actually finds that kind of funny, because it (he?) is literally a giant eyeball. “And you are smiling because…?”

Shadow Link stops smiling. It’s not that funny.

“I am impressed that you already understand your purpose, Shadow Link,” says a distinctly different voice. It’s deep and low, sourced from no particular direction but somehow filling the entire room. For some reason, Shadow Link knows he’s heard it before.

“Yeeeeaaah,” he says, his bravado quickly fading. “But I mean… you should probably still say why you think I’m here. Just to make sure we’re on the same page.”

This provokes a loud slam, like a fist on a desk. “You dare question me—Lord Ganon, King of Evil, and your very creator?”

Shadow Link winces. “Uh. Noooo?”

“Respectfully, Lord Ganon,” says the disrespectful eyeball, “this interview charade seems like an unwise use of our time. Did you not bring the applicant into existence to assume this exact position?”

“I did,” answers Lord Ganon, and Shadow Link feels the weight of those words on his shoulders. “So let us discuss what the position entails.”

Shadow Link wants to ask if he gets to be a Lord too, but decides against it. As far as he knows, ‘Shadow’ is already a title.

“We have much to discuss,” says Lord Ganon. “You have an important role to play, Shadow Link.”

He straightens in his chair. “So I got the job?”

Vaati’s eye rolls.

“Yes,” Lord Ganon says, “you got the job.”

He has the urge to shake someone’s hand—but Lord Vaati only has wings, Lord Ganon seems to be working remotely, and he himself only got hands like ten minutes ago, so he’d probably be pretty uncoordinated. Hopefully by the next time it’s appropriate to give a firm business handshake, he’ll be a little more experienced.

“Great,” Lord Vaati says with even greater annoyance. “I’m so glad I attended this important and necessary meeting.”

“Hold your tongue,” Lord Ganon warns. “Shadow Link will see you freed into the world of the light. If not for him, you would be trapped in the Dark World indefinitely.”

Shadow Link nods, relieved to be getting some idea of his assigned role. He isn’t sure which superior he prefers—the one who view him as a shameless nepotism hire, or the one who nepotism-hired him in a position far above his apparent qualifications. But then again, who’s to say he isn’t qualified for whatever purposes Ganon has yet to fully establish? He was created for them, after all!

“Yes, Shadow Link, you will do great things,” Ganon says, and his words invoke the oddest feeling. How can a compliment feel so much like a threat? “You will free the Wind Mage, wreak havoc on Hyrule, and pave the way for darkness to consume the light.”

“I see,” Shadow Link says, a small grin growing on his face. He’s not so sure about the Wind Mage stuff or the dark and light, but wreaking havoc does sound fun. Certainly more fun than the not-existing he’d been doing before.

Which… before. What had he been doing before? Not him, not really, but someone casting a shadow. A shadow that, to the original person’s knowledge or not, has been granted personhood of its own.

Shadow Link. He is Shadow Link.

“Before we discuss your employment,” Lord Ganon says, “it is customary to ask: Do you have any questions for us?”

Shadow—just Shadow now, he's decided—stares into the inscrutable darkness, his hat flicking behind his back.

“Yeah, I have a question: who the hell is Link?”