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sorcerous-caress · 1 year ago

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A beautiful webbing | Minthara

[Smut, fluff, angst, oviposition, claustrophobia, aphrodisiac, egg insertion, Drider Minthara, spiders, blood and graphic descriptions, happy end, marriage, nb!Reader]

did you hear about the person who married a drider?

The cave was bigger than any you've ever seen. Stone walls isolating a huge area of the underdark, illuminated by various plants in all shapes and sizes, from the smallest mushroom pulsing with a neon like yellow, to the biggest of trees.

The tree definitely caught your interest, its branches curled around the entirety of the cave's dome, bright silver wood hugging the cold dark stones. Various blooms in all shades of blue were scattered alongside the branches.

A haziness filled the air, specks of blue dust floating and glittering as they left their mother tree.

A sussur tree.

You took a cautious step forward, knowing that you forsake using all magic the closer you got to the cave's entrance. Whether it was your own birthright, a one earned with hard work and studies, or even a one granted from a more powerful being. It was all seeped from your entire being.

Even your equipment wasn't spared, all the enchanted swords and flaming shields became nothing by pieces of metal upon arrival. Magical scrolls becoming akin to overpriced napkins, at least those had a use in here.

The cave entrance was deliberately put front and center, as if taunting you and challenging all those who passed by.

No amount of skulls and scattered bones throughout the gardens of the cave would've done the numbers justice, the waves after waves of so called heros that came as a bitter home welcoming gift were well above the hundred of thousands.

Yet the scattered skulls barely surpassed the hundreds. Maybe they were buried deep just when the sussur tree took roots.

The day Minthara Baerne got called into a test of Lolth was the day the underdark held its breath in suspension.

One of the most promising princesses in line for the leadership of the oldest known noble house in all of drow history. Even petty drow fights seized for a single day as all eyes were directed towards her impending fate.

Yet no one knew what the test was about, was her loyalty called into question? Or was it a promotion from Lolth. Just what did the spider queen promise her.

If anything, the Baerne house accepted it as a blessing. They've always prided themselves on their loyalty and faithfulness, even their high wizard has passed several loyalty tests.

Instead of entering the cave just yet, you decide to stroll through its surrounding gardens. Appreciating every flower that blossomed through the butterfly effect of the great fall of a princess.

The disgraced princess is what they called her now. Even at her worst, many still held great fear of her in their hearts, not daring to drop her honorific title that's her birthright.

The deeper you walked through the gardens, the more evidence of the calamity you could find. Piles upon piles of aged skeletons and bones being weaved through each vine of plants.

It was eerie how all the bones were still attached together, as if their bodies were left there for the plants to feast on until nothing but a skeleton remained.

Some of them had their arms wrapped against the thorn filled vines, as if struggling to free themselves from its clutches to no avail.

You kept walking, something called for you, at the opposite end of the entrance.

Minthara's test was considered one of the largest gatherings of the noble houses. At the temple of lolth inside a massive hall, the Baerne matron sat in the front row, Minthara's father, a consort, had the right to sit next to her.

Lower priestesses of Lolth were waiting in front of the curtains that veiled where the test was taking place. Their higher sisters were inside, determining the fate of Minthara.

Her own sisters, both from full blood and half blood, were whispering amongst themselves about her possible fates.

The youngest of them, still unaware of drow customs, suggested the idea of her failing and being turned into a drider. She was immediately hushed and berated by the other sisters as they feared her words might reach one of the priestesses, or worse the Matron herself.

This wasn't the first or last test the Baerne house goes through, countless of their males were brought into their knees in front of the spider queen herself.

Yet maybe, because it's a woman this time, its implications have put everyone on edge.

You were almost at the end of the garden, a sour smell of rot and decay suddenly invaded your senses.

Visible plant roots withered the further in you went, the dirt on the ground stained bright red, it was more akin to mud than dirt. Your steps squelching through the gore and viscera.

While the sussur vines extended far beyond this spot, not a single stray leaf could make its way to the heart of this place. A small bubble where magic could thrive freely.

Devoid of any plants or life, only the remains of countless battles stacked against each other, pulling themselves down by the combined weight of their flesh.

Something called for you, it was getting stronger. You had to endure the pungent odour of death and decay.

In a small puddle of blood that has a sheer layer of magic reflecting off of its surface, a dark green mix of leaves intertwined in symmetry of needle sharp thorns. The bush seemed to thrive in this garden of blood.

A single rose could be seen deep inside the bush, caged by thorn covered steams. It demands a sacrifice of flesh to pluck the flower.

A common bloodrose, despite the name it was anything but common, two thirds of the population could live through ten centuries and never encounter one.

Not to mention how it managed to blossom while caged by a sussur tree, the very polar opposite of its existence. The nature of a blood rose could only thrive on an endless source of blood, agony and most importantly magic.

Magic was the only thing that could protect its fragile petals that are overly sensitive to any temperature changes, magic encased it from the second it was a mere budding rosette.

A sussur bloom and a bloodrose co-existing in the same garden. A miracle in front of your own eyes.

The flower is thirsty, you realise, it's calling for you to feed her.

You reach your hand towards the caged rose, the tip of your finger gets pricked against one of the sharp needles, a single drop of blood escapes from your body before your blood cells start clotting the small cut.

It's so small, you have to gently shake your hand to get the droplet to fall.

It gets caught on the edge of a petal, the flower visibly blooms more as it drinks in your blood.

You look down and see spikey tendrils retract their hold around your ankles, you weren't even aware of it when they wrapped themselves around you.

The voice in your head vanishes, you're free to move again.

As you hurry and retreat back into the lush mushroom filled gardens, the only remaining evidence of what felt like a fever dream are the trail of blood your boots leave behind on the moss covered dirt.

You make your way back to the entrance, walking alongside the cave walls.

The news of the Baerne family scandal reached even the surface, high elves were openly discussing it amongst themselves in official councils, for a week each page printed out haf in some capacity information about the princess turned drider.

Many people wondered what the matron's face must have been like, when the one that emerged from behind the curtains was a monster instead of her beloved daughter.

Was her father killed? What of her sisters?

Part of the reason the scandal was so widespread, is the sinister intentions of the other drow nobles who celebrated this stain on Lolth's favourite house, her golden children.

Yet the scholars weren't interested in the family gossip as they described it. No, they were more interested in how Minthara, a drider, managed to survive when faced with a hall filled with various drow nobles.

In normal circumstances they exile them, but this was anything but normal circumstances.

To kill her right then and there would've been the honourable thing to do, in drow's culture at least. The Matron could've easily killed her and disowned her from the Baerne house.

Some suspected love, most human scholars argued that a mother's love extended further than the worship of a goddess could.

Others sneered at the idea, especially the surface elves, how could a drow love one another? They don't even know the meaning of that word.

But maybe, it was one scholar whose theory was the closest to the truth, a half-elf. Her suggestion was that Minthara actually passed the test, which is why she wasn't killed.

Her theory was torn to shreds and made fun of endlessly after she published it.

You're back where you started, at the entrance of the cave.

Everything looks the same, as if time is a mere illusion in these gardens. The same flowery scented air welcomes you back, silver and blue particles flowing through your legs and inhaling any traces of magic it could find.

Reaching into your backpack, you take out an unlit torch. The all consuming darkness inside the cave wasn't any normal darkness you've seen before.

Igniting the flame, you head into the abyss.

The simple torch light doesn't even reach the walls or ceiling of the cave, it's massive size scattering whatever light your flame produces.

Step after step, you watched the floor carefully. Mostly because it was the only surface reflecting your light, but also in case of any webs you might stumble onto.

Each drider's web was personalised for their own use, harming anyone else but their own maker. A thin almost invisible line of silk was stretched impossibly thin and tensed to connect all the webs together, the slightest touch could send a growing vibrating alarm through the entirety of the cave system.

So you diligently watched your steps, it only took one lucky stray string of silk for your doom.

Even if you somehow managed to break free, the invisible coating of venom on them would've spelled your unavoidable death.

Through the humid air, you could still see the silvery particles flowing. Although their quantity thinned more and more the deeper you went into the cave.

Back at the entrance you couldn't even make out what the walls or ceiling looked like, but now, after you've gone through several branching pathways, the cave closed in around you.

It still wasn't anything but big by any means, much larger than a mere bear cave. But it was more comprehensively big instead of the unrealistic massive size it held at the start.

At least that was the illusion that these pathways gave you.

There wasn't a sign of life, no animals, no insects, not even a single fly. Just the silence and soft echo of your steps.

Wasn't it for the various spider webs, woven every so skillfully at every corner and turn, then you would've doubted a drider resided here.

You haven't seen her yet, haven't heard a single sound or a hint of spider legs scuttering.

Maybe she was out hunting? Maybe you got lucky and found her when she was resting?

Your flame was dying out, even if you turned back now, it won't be enough to get you back out and you'll end up lost in the darkness as you tried to navigate your way out of this maze-like cave.

There was no option but to keep going.

It was only a matter of time before the Baerne family scandal was overshadowed by some other scandal, some human wizard's attempt to ascend to divinity or something. It seemed like there's always one of them per century and they always fail, yet the public eats it up each time.

The history book you've read didn't mention what happened to him, instead jumping ahead to the other documented major news of the past century.

You didn't care much honestly, you were too preoccupied in your search for the spider princess tale origins, and that archive book was enough evidence to empower you through this tedious journey in the underdark.

History long forgotten, the Baerne family recovered and is still ruling the underdark. Sometimes something is too big to fail.

You've researched her for months, getting your hand on each and every documented work about Minthara. Even buying the overpriced drow books and papers that came out around the scandal.

With all the endless questions and theories everyone wrote about her, not a single soul mentioned the first thing that went through your mind after hearing her tale.

How lonely it must have been for her.

Drider are known for their unstable mental health, yet madness wasn't something that Lolth handed to them alongside the eight legs.

No, the madness was acquired after years of isolation, exile blurring their sense around the passing of time. One day you're surrounded by your family and loved ones, the next you're deemed a monster unfit to share society with the rest of us.

Chased out by the threat of violence, your own reflection and body altered beyond recognition at times. How cruel of a fate Lolth gifted her children.

No more walking, no more music, no more fun. You and the fate of silence for the rest of your life.

It would drive anyway crazy, yet people had the nerve to describe driders as people with a death wish. As if it wasn't the fault of the people pointing their fingers and casting their judgement.

Fear keeps us safe, fear keeps us sane.

Driders lacked all known types of fear, much like their own sanity withered inside their brain.

Your torch went out.

Flame extinguished, darkness draped over you.

All consuming, ever cold and numbing darkness. Your brain attempts to make sense of your sudden lack of vision, swirling various shapes into the pitch black surroundings, only for them to evaporate like smoke.

Faces of loved ones, monsters and even promises of an exit. Drawn in illusions as your primal mind tried to lead your path.

You knew deep down that nothing lurked in the darkness, you've been in this cave for what felt like hours by now. You would've seen something.

It wasn't possible not to run into her by now, even a normal sized drider would've crossed your path once or twice. And she was 5 times the size of a normal drider from what you've read, why else would she claim a cave this huge as her own.

With your hand stretched to take hold of the wall, you decided to keep moving forward through the darkness. Eventually you're fated to reach some kind of end right?

Whether it be a dead end or a cave end, is up to the fates to decide.

You kept walking as time lost its meaning, even when the sound of your footsteps disappeared. A soft padding covering the floor that completely masked your steps, you couldn't see what it was in the dark.

Madness knocked on the windows of your brain, paranoia seeping through the cracked glass.

You wanted to speak, to scream, do anything just to make any sound to hear yourself. To hear any sound.

You couldn't hear your own heartbeat, alarms were going off inside your head.

Were you dead? Did that plant hold some kind of poison in its spikes and now you've stupidly signed your own death certificate.

Taking a deep breath, you feel the air rushing through your lungs, you feel the rise and fall of your chest but you still can't hear a single thing.

Stopping in your tracks, your spiral of insanity came to a halt as you spotted a vague dim light in the vast darkness.

Was your brain playing tricks on you again?

You let go of the wall, desperately running towards the light, breath heavy and sweating and legs sore. You pushed your body as you reached towards the light.

It grew stronger, larger. The faint glow multiplied as another and another joined it the closer you got.

You could see your own hands again, the colour of your skin. Your own healthy and very much alive flesh.

It wasn't an illusion, but a very real glow.

A cluster of bioluminescent plants attached to the upper parts of the walls and covering the ceiling, extending into a large opening leading to a big room filled with them.

There were scattered like stars hanging up in the sky, each one is of different colours and shapes. A glistening translucent web connected them together, a faint holographic sheer shining through the web in a quiet dance of rainbow lights.

Faerie lights, the silk was enchantment with faerie light.

This room was at the furthest end of the cave, at the heart where that bloodrose laid no doubt. How else could magic survive here unless it was part of the same bubble the bloodrose thrived under.

It was vastly different from the other parts of the maze-like cave you've seen so far. The air was warmer, drier with no humidity. The walls were devoid of any sharp edges, if anything they shined like marbles instead of stone.

The soft dancing faerie lights give a colourful glow to the room. It was trimmed and carved into perfection, this room was the true heart of the cave.

Stepping fully inside, the lights reflected off of your eyes, you were almost in awe at the beauty of this place. Exploring the left side of the room, you were met with a makeshift bed, made with various soft cloths and feather filled pillows. To your surprise, the bed was more on the normal size, quite big yes but nothing beyond what most nobles had at their homes.

A lyre sat on the table next to the bed, its strings matching the ones hanging above on the ceiling.

Exploring the right side, you found…hay? Not just hay but a large cluster of various soft materials like cotton and wool, connected together in a circle of silk.

Just like any other heart, this cave's heart was brimming with life.

Dread filled your heart as you realised the true purpose of this room, it's a nursery.

That cluster on the left, you could see various eggs through the translucent parts of the silk.

You were at the nest of the drider princess.

Uninvited.

Yes you wanted to meet her but not like this, not an armed stranger intruding on her cluster of eggs.

Taking a step back from the fragile nest, something sticky caught your boots, and you fell back against the padded flooring.

Your thud barely made a noise at all, you haven't really acknowledged the strange floor until now.

Looking down, you were met with extremely thick webs, covering the entire floor. Padding the stones with layer after layer of silk that trailed even outside of the room.

The webs you've spent so much effort avoiding, you were walking on a carpet of them all this time since your torch went out.

Terror echoed through your bones, a sense of impending doom. Minthara had been aware of you all this time

You were sure no one was around you, you swore never saw her. Where could she have been hiding?

Something cold dripped onto your head.

Your limbs were shaking, your fight or flight instincts screaming at you.

Lifting your head, colour drained from your face as you looked up at the ceiling.

Red eyes met yours.

Long silver hair dangling from her head, crimson eyes marking you as her prey. Another set of eyes were further apart on her forehead, slightly smaller in size.

The upper body of the drow, a lean muscular build, clothed in armour that stopped just before her lower spider abdomen.

The sheer massive size of it was difficult for your brain to comprehend, it was abysmally larger than any other drider. A giant spider abdomen of pure blackness that acted as a huge dark mirror behind her figure. Eight legs sprawled from it, each one extremely long and thin. Sharp knife-like edges and jagged saw-like insides.

A single leg went from her abdomen, at the center of the vast ceiling, and trailed down the walls until its end buried under the thick layer of webs on the floor.

Like a bird cage trapping you in place, a gradient of abyssal black that faded into a rich imperial purple.

Various gems and gold circlets decorated each leg, rubies and amethysts being the main theme. Much like the armour she wore, it had the clear holy markings of a high paladin of Lolth. Its carvings giving the illusion of wrapping around her figure and hugging it so deliciously, when in reality it no doubt had multiple thick layers of padding and metal for a proper battle attire.

"You've finally used your common sense, p'luvt." Her voice wasn't quiet like the other drows you've met so far, in fact it was full of confidence.

Crawling her body from the ceiling, she came down from the right side of the room as she shielded her nest with her large spider frame.

She wasn't immediately lunging at you, which was a win in your book. You half expected your head to be bitten off the second you attempted to look up.

"I don't mean any harm, I promise." Dropping your backpack and weapons, you made a point to stay on the floor to not give her any false ideas.

"Harm? You think a pathetic thing like you could even harm me?" Her raspy voice held a hint of amusement, as if the idea of you being a danger to her was the joke of the century.

Minthara only needed to learn her body forward to completely tower over you, "If I had wanted you dead, I would have let the poison take you out." She leaned even closer, her face directly above yours.

You didn't move as she cupped your face with her hand, satisfied with the feeling of your skin against her sharp fingers.

Touching the back of your own head, you were surprised to be met with wetness, a sticky purple fluid. "Is that the poison?"

"No." Her thumb parted your lips, the same purplish liquid bubbled at the tip of her fang before dropping into your mouth. "That's the antidote, the walls had the venom."

Minthara seemed pleased with your obedience as you swallowed without the need for coaxing, her lips glistened with a sheer transparent layer as she pressed them against yours.

The kiss stung your lips, the feeling of an itchiness seeping into your flesh as she pushed her tongue in your mouth.

"That's a small dosage of the poison."

You let her carry you, never resisting as she wrapped her front tendrils around you.

She laid you on the bed, giving you one short kiss after another.

"Your scent is irresistible." She inhaled against your neck, "become part of something greater than your mortal life could ever achieve, become mine."

Wrapping your arms around her, the flame of desire ignited deep below your stomach as you considered her offer, becoming her mate.

You nodded, chasing after each kiss with greediness.

"Use your words." She pulled away, "swariy biu hithern d'ilr ulu uns'aa"

You considered your journey, the months of research, the length you've went to just to find her cave, the madness you've brush against back in the darkness.

Her fangs grazed your ears, "vow my ownership over you." Pulling away, her eyes held a hint of vulnerability in them as she looked at you.

Brushing a side of her soft silvery locks behind her pointy ears, you held her battle worn face so tenderly. "I vow to always belong to you."

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips onto hers. A soft gentle kiss to seal your oath with.

Minthara took your clothes off, with each newly revealed patch of skin she'd plant a kiss on. Her hands holding your body and positioning it however she pleased on the bed. Your own arousal growing the more her kisses trailed down and down.

"Ussta 'chev" she'd whispered as spread your legs, hooking your thighs above her shoulder, face to face with your most intimate parts.

Her gaze filled with hunger, the taste of your flesh still fresh on her tongue. Leaning forward, her tongue gave a testing swipe against your heat, beforehand her whole mouth started devouring you.

The pleasure was worth the pain, the rush of heat clouding your brain and making you melt. Grinding back and pushing against her mouth with desperation, all shame left you at the feeling of her hot wet tongue.

Your fists held on to the bedding below you, pulling on it the more intense the feeling got, you were quickly stumbling towards the edge embarrassingly fast. She kept her hold on your thighs, going even deeper and deeper.

Making a moaning mess out of you, obscene screams of pleasure echoing through the cave. Her fingers joined soon and collected your wetness on them, trailing down onto your hole as they push against the opening.

That pushes you over the edge, the pressing of her fingertip inside you makes your muscles tense in a rippling orgasm. She lets you ride it out against her mouth, swallowing down all of your juicies and cum.

You taste yourself on her lips as she leans forward to give you a kiss, letting you catch your breath.

Hearing a subtle sound at back her throat, akin to a spider purring. "You were made for this" covered in your own cum, her finger push inside you, opening you up as she adds another.

She watches you with keen eyes as she pushes and prodes your inside, watches your teeth biting into your wet lips, your naked body helpless on her bed.

"Take it." Minthara adds a third finger when she's sure you're ready, "take all of me, let me have all of you." It's so deep, brushing the walls of your insides and reigniting the arousal between your legs.

You see two of her spider legs moving in the back of the room, you can't focus much on them before being guided back to looking at her eyes as you twitch and squeeze around her fingers.

You're stretched slowly and deliberately, hole wet and hungry around her fingers. By the end of it, four of them can easily slide in and out of you.

Minthara helps your second orgasm by going back down on you, her mouth forcing your twitching body and milking it out of cum. Her fingers never stop prodding you as you shake and shiver from the intensity.

You've came twice already and she is still fully dressed in her suit of armour, holy symbols now soaked in your cum.

Pulling her fingers out, she leans away, looking at you with pride. "You handled this better than I thought you would, you're strong enough to bear my children."

Only then do you notice the three eggs she was craddling with one of her back legs, bringing them closer to you and setting them on the bed.

They were bigger than normal eggs, two almost the size of your fist. You could only fit a single one in your palm as you held it with a worried look.

"Does the size intimidate you?" Minthara encloses the hand carrying the egg with her own, her other hand rubbing the lower part of your stomach, "it will fit, i will make sure of it."

Giving your forehead a final kiss, she moved you with ease to lay on your stomach instead. Spreading your thighs and exposing your leaking hole to her, she insepcts her handwork with two fingers.

You grab into the pillow, burying your head into it as you feel a hard cold shell pressing against your entrance.

"This is your true purpose. Embrace it." She slowly pushes the egg in, her voice laced with lust as she watches it disappear inside you, "embrace having my children inside you, it's my right to breed you."

The egg stretches you out, completely different than her fingers. You feel impossibly filled as your hole keeps helplessly twitching against it, making the egg only go deeper and deeper.

You hear Minthara moan from behind you, the sight of your needy hole making her lose her senses.

Then the stinging feeling of a bite against your thigh, soft flesh marked with her fangs. Something flows into your body.

A feeling of lightness envelopes you, all the pain disappears and is replaced by a comfortable feeling of being filled to the brim, like it's what you're meant to be.

If anything…you still feel empty, heat quickly spreads through your body as you whine against the pillow. More. You need more of her inside you.

"Please…" your voice sounds desperate and strange to your own ears, "Minthara, it's not enough."

Her fingers go inside you to push the egg deeper, an electrifying pleasure shoots through your spine and makes you arch your back. It's almost as intense as your previous orgasm, the pleasure is melting your brain.

The more she moves the egg inside you the more you leak into her bed, grinding against the mattress cover in an attemp for relief. All the nerves in your body had their sensitivity turned up and everything feels impossibly good as her venom travels through your bloodstream.

Was it even venom that she bit into you? It feels completely different.

You're beginning for the second egg, whining and crying at the deep urge inside you to be a good mate for her, to please and appease your mistress.

Minthara looks at you with love, proud of you for knowing your place, for learning how to properly address her so soon.

She grants you another egg, pushing it slowly inside as you thank her breathlessly.

It slots snugly against its sister, filling you even more as your brain chirps with happiness at the feeling, the sense of purpose this gives you. You feel Minthara's lips against the back of your neck, whispering how good you're being, what an obedient spouse you are to your wife.

The third orgasm hits you out of nowhere, you didn't even realise it until you were squeezing your thighs together and pushing the eggs against each other. Staining her bed with your cum and making an even more pathetic display of yourself.

She seems ever so pleased.

The same clickly purring sounding again as she teases your overstimulated areas, enjoying your squirming and shaking. Your brain barely able to take in all the pleasure she's showering you with.

The final egg is left.

Minthara helps you sit back on the bed, her strong arms holding you up as you lean into her embrace, legs kneeling on the soft matteress with your tears stained face buried into her neck.

Running her hand softly down your back, she lets you cling to her for comfort as you adjust to the new position. Knowing how overwhelming this can be for you to take in, how fragile mortals tend to be.

The air of the room is still comfortably warm, the dancing lights ease your mind as the soft atmosphere helps you catch your breath. You feel safe.

The outside world completely forgotten and ignored "this is your true home" Minthara whispers, "this is your nest, this is where you should be."

And this egg, should be inside you.

After she made no move to press it against your entrance, simply holding it in her arm. You realise what she wants you to do.

You cling to her more, she kisses your ear.

Leaning forward, you stay kneeling as you spread yourself with one hand, carrying the egg in the other.

Minthara watches you with a smile.

Gravity made the other two eggs press against your hole, attempting to force themselves out. You have to push your fingers inside to get them deeper, push them up until they slot in place, until they're perfectly held by your tight insides.

Until they're pressing against where your intimate parts are, keeping you stuck in an endless cycle of pleasure.

That one spot inside you, abusing it and harshly rubbing it with every breath you take. Yet no pain or discomfort could be felt, only pleasure in it's purest forms, a mind numbing pleasure.

Your fingers go out with a pop sound, your own wetness traveling down your thighs. Minthara keeps her hold on you firm, keeping you sitting up in place.

Pushing the egg inside you, the familiar delicious stretch follows up soon. You don't think you can even close your legs fully anymore, forced to keep them open and spread so the eggs remain inside you.

When it's halfway through, is when your poor abused hole is stretched to its limits, opened fully spread so wide. Your fingers keep pushing it inside as your hole encloses around the egg, swallowing it too.

Minthara holds your hands, keeping you in the same position as you squirm while the eggs move to adjust to the new addition inside you. You can barely focus on her lips or kiss as a fourth orgasm comes crashing down on your, your vision blurring fully for a second while your brain melts.

You fall into her, she catches you. Hugging you into her body, rubbing your sore thighs where she left several grip marks.

Darkness surrounds you, exhaustion winning.

When you wake up, you're cradled against her chest, no armour to cover her soft flesh. The scent of lavender envelopes you as you realise all the grime and sweat has been wiped off of your body, you're completely clean and fresh.

Minthara is the same, the bed has new sheets and there is a soft melody in the air. The gentle strumming of the Lyre she held in her hands.

You're lulled back into another slumber, burying your face against her soft breasts.

Time passes, how much? You're not sure. You've kept track of the first few months but after the 7th, everything started becoming a blurr.

This room became your whole world, the only thing you cared for. Even when Minthara brought you back some newspapers from one of her haunts, you just used it as feed for the fire to warm you up.

The two of you fell into a complex dynamic of fragile balance. It was the most consuming and possessive kind of love you've ever felt from someone.

She truly wanted you for her own, you very own soul even. And in return she took care of all of your needs, keeping you safe and protected as you kept her eggs safe and warm inside you.

Speaking of which, she'd replace them daily. On some days you'd carry up to 6 different eggs, on others she merely tasked you with warming one. It depended on how much moving she planned for you that day.

You've explored the rest of the cave with her, hugging her upper body from behind as belt of silk kept you safely secured to her while she showed you the various turns of the cave. Occasionally taking you to the gardens outside.

There were many intruders on most days, yet she dealed with them swiftly as their bodies were quickly disposed on into the blood garden.

Her territory expanded after you became a part of her family, your safety was her main concern and she realised it's better to gather a good amount of soliders under her command to guard the outside territories.

They were drows, from what she's told you, used to be drows just like her, but turned into driders. Working with them irritated her because of how unstable they tend to be, yet something about her massive sheer size made them kneel in admiration and obey her, even when she would've prefered them cowering in fear.

Yet sometimes a gaggle of paladins would slip by, Lathander's or Corellon's or any of those so called good deities that thought it was their duty to purge all evil from the world.

Minthara wasn't impressed by any of them, if the cave didn't kill, then she'd take advantage of the protection the sussur tree offers her and strike them when they're defenseless without their precious magic.

You had plenty of books and gems to waste your time with, practising on the lyre whenever Minthara was too preoccupied to retreat back to her nest.

The bond you two shared, she's described as alurlssrin, the highest form of love a drow can give to another person.

You held her tightly each night, kissed her gently the more of her vulnerability she'd reveal to you after shedding her cold exterior. Becoming her strength when she needed someone to lean on.

One curious night, as the two of you held each other in her bed, you couldn't help but wonder out loud why she still wore the armour of Lolth after all she has done to her.

"My oath still stands" she replied, "Lolth's cruelty can take many forms, this is merely one of them."

She revealed to you what happened that night, at the test. Telling you about all the brutal trails she was put under, all the humiliation she had to endure.

"I prevailed, much to Lolth's displeasure, deep in my heart, i knew she wished for my failure." Minthara explained, "as a reward, i was bestowed with this so called gift" Minthara sneered, words like venom from her lips.

"It must have been lonely, to live like this for so long" your opinions didn't change, ever since the moment you stepped into the cave, you were still the same exact person.

"It was." She held your hand in hers, kissing your fingers. "But now, I have you. What a great distraction you are."

After a while, the eggs were ready to hatch. As much as Minthara tried to always keep a stoic face, the excitement in her voice was unmistakable.

She wanted the both of you to witness it, all the eggs were put in their original cluster of silk and wool. A warm hearth like fire under them, completely harmless to the touch, born from the purest of magic.

Despite the strange feeling of emptiness inside you, having gotten used to carrying at least one of the eggs each day for months, you still felt great pride and a sense of achievement at seeing them all healthy and ready to hatch.

"They will be normal spiders", Minthara explained, "Lolth prohibits all driders from reproducing."

"I know you find spiders adorable" you teased her, "how come each time one gets lost in your territory, they are let go with a slap on the wrist?"

"Well they're clearly more respectful than intruders who claim they got lost, spiders are simply superior."

She was smiling, a genuine smile, the wrinkles on her face giving her a soft glow as she admired you, the person she loves most in this world.

Her lips looked inviting, she leaned in closer to you.

But before your lips could meet each other, one of the eggs started shaking, stealing her attention away.

There was genuine awe in her eyes as she watched the egg, it was her first ever batch of eggs. The first of several to come, as she promised you.

The two of you held your breath when a crack formed through the inner layer of the egg and travelled to the outsider, two fuzzy thin legs emerging from the silk cocoon, moving around as if cutely waving.

"This one is strong, I can feel it." Minthara whispered, holding your hand tightly. You could imagine her cheering for the spider inside.

Another crack though the egg, from the opposite side, another pair of fuzzy legs breaking through.

After the head managed to break the top of the egg, the most adorable shiny dots for eyes looked in your direction, for a second it looked like the spider was wearing the egg like armour

A laugh escaped you at the uncanny resemblance they had to their mother, god they really are Minthara's children huh.

Blinking your tears of joy away, one second the spider was moving, the next a harsh crack could be heard as the spider laid limb.

An arrow, shot right at the egg from behind you and Minthara.

Your world stopped moving.

The clunking of heavy armour and swords being drawn could be heard, the stretching of a bow string as another arrow was being prepared.

It never got to leave the bow. Minthara was faster than all of them, bigger and stronger than all of them.

But this newborn spider wasn't.

You cradled it in your palm, the shell of the egg falling away to reveal the baby spider inside.

Yells sounded from behind you, flesh tearing and the agonised screams that suddenly got quiet as metal was ripped so shred. Whole bodies torn apart limb from limb like paper.

The spider wasn't bigger than your thumb, you didn't know what to do as you stared at it.

Minthara's rage didn't quell, not even after each of them laid dead and dismembered. Not even as she shoved their own arrows down their throats and into their lungs.

One of the swords slid down next to you, covered in their blood, its surface so shiny it was akin to a mirror as you stared at your own eyes on it.

A voice called out to you.

A life for a life, blood for blood.

Pressing the tip of your thumb against the sharp end of the sword, it didn't take much pressure for it to get pricked.

A single drop of blood trailed down your finger, it wasn't bigger than your thumb, you knew what to do.

You gently let it drop over the baby spider, the blood seeped into its body.

Minthara went to dispose of their bodies, scuttering quickly on the ceiling as she made her way to the end of the garden.

You couldn't take your eyes off of the spider, waiting for it to open its own eyes.

The most adorable shiny black dots for eyes met yours

Breathing a sigh of relief, you felt the little bug wash itself with your one drop of blood, slowly regaining its strength.

"Look" you said when Minthara came back, sitting next to you, "safe and healthy, it's really strong like you said."

She gently took the spider in her hand, seeing the small thing crawl around her fingers. There was a look of sadness on her face, a frown to her lips.

"I have failed you" she didn't meet your gaze, "I swore to protect you, and i have let these insects crawl freely into my house, our home."

Your hand enclosed on top of hers, "you were caught off gaurd, it's not your fault."

"No." Her brows furrowed, "I am never off gaurd. I have prepared for this day, i have tested all the webs myself."

The spider curiously went to explore the rest of the room, jumping from Minthara's hand onto the webbed grounds.

She pulled you closer to her, "I couldn't hear them in, I couldn't see them."

She was feeling weak, you knew how much she hated that feeling. For someone to best her.

"What about the sussur tree, Shouldn't it have stopped them?" You rubbed her back with your free arm, feeling one of her spider legs wrap around you.

"....I thought so too. But their magic, it was unnatural, not like anything I have seen before."

She swallowed as she continued, "the crests on their armours, the magic books they carried, it held symbols of a god I could not recognise."

"Doesn't Mystra control all magic?" You were growing more confused by the recent events

"Apparently, not anymore."

Your conversation was cut short as another egg began hatching. This time, Minthara blocked the room entrance with her spider abdomen to not take anymore chances.

The rest of the batch hatched safely to your joined relief, everything went well and you had a cluster of fuzzy small spiders running around and playing with the fearie lights enchanted silk robes.

Minthara stood up, offering her arm to you as unspoken request to let her carry you. You gladly accepted.

Taking you into her arm, she moved the both of you to the other side of the room. Placing you on the bed with a soft kiss to your forehead.

"I have something that I want to show you." One of her spider legs dug through a silk cocoon buried until the webbed flooring, bringing it up and placing it into your hand.

It was different, the silk was finer and more shiny than her normal silk. The cocoon was also wooven with great care. An embroidered symbol of a flower on the outside.

"A secret egg?" You weren't sure if you wanted to ruin the beautiful embroidery of silk.

Minthara shook her head, "open it. It's for you."

Gently prying open the cocoon, something shined below in the hollow insides. Two red petals were rolled up, each one holding a golden ring with a bright clear diamond on top.

Your heart fluttered, stilling your body as your processed the two rings in front of you.

Minthara was looking at you, gauging your reaction. Her red eyes not veiling the love and vulnerability they held in them.

"Ussta 'chev" her lips trembled as she said those words, despite whispering then a thousand times over like prayers against your heated skin in endless nights of passion. My beloved.

Drows Do Not Marry. You remember reading about it over and over in a million different books, drows do not marry but only take consorts.

Yet the rings in front of you told a completely different story.

She asks for your hand.

"You're mine just as I am yours."

You give your hand to her

"And if you leave me, rest assured it would kill me."

She traces her fingers on top of yours, kissing your hand

"Take me as your wife, forever."

Minthara places the ring on your finger, admiring the jewel shining against your skin.

Putting on the other ring herself.

You intertwine your fingers, holding her hand against yours.

The happiness that goes through your body is unmatched, it's most joy you have ever felt.

Minthara gently cups your cheek, wiping your tears away.

You lean over to give her a kiss.

The taste of her venom has grown sweet and familiar by now, it tasted like home.

#♡Minthara #♡drider minthara #♡smut #♡fluff #♡angst #♡dark content #minthara x reader #Minthara baerne #drider Minthara #bg3 x reader #bg3 smut #baldur's gate 3 x reader #tw claustrophobia #tw oviposition #tw spiders

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thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai · 8 months ago

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One very admirable trait of Yuuri is his determination to go through with an idea no matter how terrified he is if that brings him closer to his goal. We see this trait come into play over and over throughout the show. Often, this drives him to do something he has never done before but knows how to do in theory.

And then there's this:

Viktor has assigned Yuuri a short programme, but Yuuri has absolutely no clue how to perform it because he doesn't get Eros.

Yuuri has yet to learn what (unconditional) love is, too, implying that he has never been in love so far, but he is able grasp the concept on a subconscious level since he doesn't struggle to explain his interpretation of On Love: Agape ...

... based on the level of understanding he is currently at.

However, Eros is a concept so foreign to him that his reaction to the music is just this:

When it comes to Eros, he can't even put his associations into words (note his clueless tone). These two very different reactions to both arrangements reflect perfectly his own experience and his (current) understanding of "unconditional love" and "sexual love".

Yuuri is the kind of person who despite his anxiety boldly changes the composition of his programmes over and over because he's that desparate to win and this results in some badass moves like:

putting all the jumps of his SP into the second half just because he has stamina

turning the solo jump (3S) in his SP into a quad although he never landed a 4S in competition (ep. 3)

going back to jump 3 quads in his FS instead of one (ep. 5)

exchange the 4T in his FS against Viktor's signature move (ep. 7)

and most prominently: jumps 4 quads so that his FS has the same difficulty as Viktor's (ep. 12)

While all of these are daunting for Yuuri, they're doable because he knows how to execute these jumps and he knows he has the stamina to go through with it. The ultimate result boils down to timing, technique, and stamina. But skating to Eros is a major calamity for Yuuri because he delivers his best skating when he skates true to his feelings, and to make things even worse, the stakes are astronomical (they aren't, but his anxious brain convinces him otherwise). How should he portray something he can't even feel? How is he supposed to win the Onsen on Ice with that, especially since he believes that losing Viktor as a coach is at stake? No wonder the poor boy outright freaks out at the thought.

Yuuri would have been happy to skate to Agape because he has an innate basic understanding of unconditional love. However, he's completely blind to Eros and will need to rely on workarounds to deliver a somewhat decent performance--at least until he and Viktor know each other well enough for Yuuri to figure out how to seduce him with his skating.

And yet in that moment, Yuuri doesn't flinch because he wants Viktor to coach him. He wants to win the Grand Prix Final. He wants Viktor for himself and to eat katsudon with him. All these things embody a dream he has been pursuing for half his life, a dream that involves skating and Viktor, and for the first time in his life, this dream is within reach. He's not going to let a hissy 15-year-old tomcat take that away from him, he's going to fight for it with all he has. Because even though Yuuri doesn't get Eros, he has eros and this eros is very possessive (and kinky and Viktor happens to like that a lot, but Yuuri doesn't know that yet).

Even when he's terrified does Yuuri keep pursuing his goals because he has this strong determination inside him that pushes him to great lengths to make his dreams reality. Nothing is too difficult not to try. Not even when he's supposed to portray with his skating something he neither feels nor has a concept of. He's terrified, he isn't ready for that, but he does it anyway. To me, that's an exceptional showcase of his bravery.

A little rant below:

I sometimes see fans treat Yuuri like his anxiety and his determination combined turn him into an enigma of contradictions. Like he's two different personas. But these two traits don't contradict each other at all. That's called bravery and this bravery eventually starts bleeding into Yuuri's off-ice decisions like when he sends Viktor home to Makkachin although he needs Viktor by his side, or when he decides to quit his dream so that Viktor can continue pursuing his own (that was a bullshit decision, but that's not the point).

Yuuri claims that he needs Viktor to believe in him and that because of Viktor's love he is stronger, and while it's true that Viktor is a positive influence, his presence in Yuuri's life only reinforces Yuuri's own innate strength.

#yuri on ice #yoi #yuri on ice meta #katsuki yuuri #on love: eros #not sure whether I should continue posting metas at all but I had to get this out of my system #my yi meta #yoi meta #my yoi meta

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cum-villain · 11 months ago

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Do you ever think about Yoo Joonghyuk's timeline? Because, the beginning of Kim Dokja's end is the end of Yoo Joonghyuk's beginning. Kim Dokja's epilogue is Yoo Joonghyuk's prologue.

The World of Zero is, of course, his beginning. He's a man who has little backstory, few answers as to how he lived a human life. Then, a calamity strikes, and he's just a normal human man. But a strange Constellation favours him above all others, and throughout his horror, the life that he has more tangible memories of than his normal life, he's guided through it. He has his companions, his little sister, his greatest friends, his wife who he adopts children with, they all make it to the end, they all live a happy epilogue.

Except, this Constellation is still different. This Constellation not only knew so much, but he's still not on earth. He's still far away. One of Yoo Joonghyuk's companions, the one who showed him how to keep the rest alive, he isn't there. So of course Yoo Joonghyuk wants to meet this person, to repay the kindness of saving his world by meeting, and possibly saving, the person who can never exist in his world. And, of course it's worth it. One day, he'll meet this person, and the almost two-thousand lives he's supposed to live in the future will be worth it.

So, he regresses. And he forgets. And he's in the nightmare again, but this time, he has no loving guide. Only question marks as a cold, unresponsive sponsor. And his companions die, his beloved ones die. So he regresses again, to save the world he thinks. And he finds the woman he loves, he has a child, but she dies. The child dies. All he love dies. And he dies too. And his sponsor is silent.

One turns to two, two turns to three, turns to 10, to 14, to 41, to 999, to 1862. And he regresses. Again. He dies, and it will not last, he must return to that subway. That god damn subway. And his sponsor is silent. But then, the 1863rd turn.

In one worldline, it's yet another turn with a cold sponsor. Where he refuses to regress again, and searches only for that cold sponsor, for an end to the regressions, so he may finally have an end. If he can never have a happy ending, at the very least he wants an end to his existence.

But in another, a strange man appears. He has lost everything, a strange woman turning everyone against him, leading him to give in and accept an eternal epilogue, a neverending sleep. But this man, with a frail body, who clearly doesn't belong on this worldline, who he has never seen before in any regression he remembers. He speaks. He speaks of the worlds which nobody around him remembers. He speaks words of hope, of scorn and sympathy, of acknowledgement. He has a guide, not of how to survive, he could do that well enough. But a guide on how to live, how to make it through, how to continue.

So, he regresses. And he forgets. He forgets about that strange worldline where everything was different, he forgets about the strange man who gave him the courage to live. He forgets which regression he's on, believing himself to be so much younger than the many-millennia old existence he is. But still, he is older than the 28-year-old pro-gamer he was when he went through his first scenarios. And here is a strange man, who speaks words of provocation, fearful and arrogantly fearless, who knows of a future even he cannot remember. And maybe this voice is one he's heard before. Or maybe he's so desperate for something new that will save the world. And so, this strange man becomes his companion.

But, this strange man becomes a Constellation. But he's not like other Constellations, he can be spared for the time being. But, this strange man read his life like a story, he's worse than a prophet, he's someone who took the pain of his life for entertainment. He's a true Constellation. But he did so to survive, and he requires this man's help, and something makes him care about this arrogant Constellation, his Life and Death Companion.

But, this man was once the Oldest Dream. His alleged sponsor. But this sponsor was a child, and Kim Dokja never intended this, Kim Dokja, put the sword shard down, this doesn't need to end this way.

And along the way, he's realized something, on some level. This man is arrogant, this man pisses him off to no end, this man's existence serves to relentlessly mock him. And yet, there is no happy ending, no world Yoo Joonghyuk wants to save, that doesn't have him in it. So, he saves Kim Dokja.

But he doesn't know until later that he's failed. That Kim Dokja is gone, at least half of him. And right before trying to recover the rest of Kim Dokja from beyond the wall, he remembers. He remembers what he was fighting for. For all this time, for all these millennia, it was all for Kim Dokja, it was all for his sponsor who showed him how to survive, how to live, how to be happy. All this time, his purpose was to recover Kim Dokja from beyond the wall.

And as he finally reaches beyond it for the second time, this time knowing his purpose, this time knowing exactly what he wants, what he came here for...

Kim Dokja crumbles into the wind. And they both have reached an irreversible end. There is nothing left for either of them now.

#this was meant to be a shorter thing but then i ended up spending an hour ranting about yoo joonghyuk. fragment moment i guess #i could have gone on longer but i was going to go to bed right after writing a 'short' post and i really do need the sleep #braincell posting #orv #yoo joonghyuk #orv meta #joongdok

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arkon-z · 8 months ago

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I'm gonna say it:

Astor (AOC) was a bigger threat than Ganondorf (TOTK) was, in regards to the gameplay. Yes, I know The Calamity was the ultimate threat and not Astor, but that's just lore. What matters is that when the AOC plot said, "It's time to get serious about this story now," it actually got serious. Rather than TOTK's idea of "boy, it's sure going to get serious once you hit this area and trip an event flag!"

Like, TOTK Ganondorf's idea of being 'evil' was to make a puppet Zelda and go around and mess with Hyrule, doing everything from pranking some of the stables to summoning monsters to invade the temples. And because the game is open world, it makes for some really weird tone shifts. Things ranging from "our city is being overrun by unkillable monsters" to "there's a talking chicken spreading rumors." And where was Ganondorf? Down in the core of the earth, being evil. The biggest AND ONLY threat he ever directly posed to Link was in their final fight. There was nothing in the story itself to suggest that he posed any kind of threat. Especially because he made it look like Zelda was the one behind it all.

But Astor! We saw him working with/manipulating the Yiga in his plans. He lured the gang into the Lost Woods as a trap and sent the Hollows after them, coming within inches of killing Zelda. He managed to release the Calamity early. He tore the souls out of the Yiga to re-summon the Blights! He went after Zelda himself! And when it happens, it feels impactful, because of how the story unfolds in the game play. The tone shifts; you lose access to the Champs from every game menu once they're trapped in the Divine Beasts. When the Calamity hits, the tone of the entire game shifts. You're not on some action-packed adventure fighting off the Yiga clan anymore; now the apocalypse has happened and you're still alive, trying to find a way to reverse it. And throughout everything, you know that Astor is the one behind it and he's the one you have to stop. Even with the Calamity as the greater scope villain in the background, Astor is still the focal point.

So yeah, from a gameplay and story perspective, even if Astor was a flat character, he at least acted like he was trying to destroy Hyrule. Ganondorf did fuck all in TOTK. All his action scenes were flashbacks. Lazy ass man couldn't even be bothered to trek up to the surface and destroy a village or two to show he meant business.

#hwaoc #totk #age of calamity #TOTK Ganondorf was a lamer villain than Astor #there i said it #fight me

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hs-transfusion · 8 months ago

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> JADE STRIDER

CHUMHANDLE: gaianGenerator [GG] STRIFE: brssknklkind MODUS: Periodic Table LUNAR SWAY: Derse MYTH. ROLE: Thief of Blood LAND: Land of Rhythm and Rivers

GG: now thats what i call a scientific fuckin BREAKTHROUGH B)

Jade is tough to read, wholly by design. Her IMPENETRABLE STOICISM and DRY WIT lend her an aloof air that convinces damn near everyone that she's HOT SHIT, which isn't an entirely untrue sentiment. There's nary an experience that can GROSS or WEIRD HER OUT. That's what happens when you've already SEEN IT ALL ONLINE, or so she claims.

Though she insists her love for FURRIES and STUFFED ANIMALS is entirely ironic, it couldn't be further from the truth. She LOVES those little guys, but under the Strider name is forced to CONSTANTLY BAG ON THEM. At least she can bond with the CROWS SHE TAXIDERMIES after they meet unfortunate demises in the neighbouring areas. She also has a passing interest in NUCLEAR SCIENCE, but it's, like, whatever.

Jade's PERIODIC TABLE Fetch Modus allows her to store an item only if its name or initials CORRESPONDS WITH AN OFFICIALLY CLASSIFIED ELEMENT. Peanut butter can be logged as Pb, or a Ca-n of Sprite can be logged as Ca.

Jade's relationship with her BRO is pretty complicated to say the least. He strives to HONE HER MARTIAL CRAFT through combat training, and though she puts her all into it, the constant PSYCHOLOGICAL MIND GAMES stresses her out beyond belief. The second any such thought comes up however, she's quick to SHUT IT OUT all together. He's just her BRO. Doesn't have to be more complicated than that. At least he has good taste in PUPPETS.

The Land of RHYTHM AND RIVERS is the WORLD'S LARGEST METRONOME, with a faint, pulsing sound echoing throughout the skies with PERFECT TIMING (most of the time). The rivers run red, though that's likely just because of the RED SKIES. Hopefully. Whenever the planet's heart seems to SKIP A BEAT, terrible calamities strike all across the land, something that the denizen HERA seems to wish fixed.

#homestuck #fosterquest au #jade strider #hiveswap #kidswap

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sage-nebula · 2 years ago

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@sharpidiot — making a new post since the other one is super long, but yeah, considering the position of the Sheikah at this point in Hyrule's history, and how they got there and the existence of the Yiga Clan? It's a big problem.

It's not mentioned in BotW itself, but the entire reason why the Yiga Clan exist is because 10,100 years ago, after the Sheikah helped save Hyrule from the Calamity by building the Divine Beasts and Guardians, the King of Hyrule felt threatened by them and basically attempted a genocide on the Sheikah. All Sheikah tech was ordered to be destroyed, Sheikah were forced out of the main parts of Hyrule, and Sheikah were banned from doing anything more with science on punishment of imprisonment at the least. The Sheikah who survived all this dealt with it in one of two ways: they either went on to found Kakariko Village and live in secret, or they formed the Yiga Clan and swore revenge on the royals (and more importantly the goddesses) that betrayed them.

All of this is in the Creating a Champion book, scattered throughout the history section and in detail on page 368. It casts the Yiga Clan in an entirely new light. While they can't exactly be excused for wanting to kill those that had nothing to do with the paranoid king's decision and destroy the world, we also can't say they're just bonkers or that they formed for no reason. The Sheikah were sworn to the goddesses (and Hylia in specific) to protect the royal family of Hyrule (Hylia's descendents). This was their divine duty. And then they were punished for it, exiled and had their culture destroyed and were oppressed and imprisoned. Their goddesses did nothing to help them. The king and people they had protected were the ones doing this to them. Can we blame them for turning the way they did? I can't.

But now, a huge chunk of that just seems . . . gone, from TotK. If the Sheikah tech didn't exist, then the king from 10,100 years ago wouldn't have done what he did to the Sheikah. And if he didn't do that, the Yiga Clan wouldn't exist. It makes zero sense. What's worse is there are parts of the Zonai things that are very reminiscent of Sheikah things, such as the orbs in the shrines. We could say perhaps the Sheikah inherited those things from the Zonai, but . . . that's plot putty to try to spackle the holes.

I'm still early in the game (I have only finished the Rito portion) so I do not want any spoilers for anything that comes later. Maybe this will be fixed. I hope it is. But if it isn't, then I will probably consider TotK to be yet another video game fanfic, a la Age of Calamity (albeit one that is higher quality at least).

#loz totk spoilers #totk spoilers #totk critical #sheikah #yiga clan #oh and not to mention how on the in-game bios they list the Sheikah as Hylians?#when they are not Hylians. the Sheikah are a distinct people #just like the Gerudo are #it makes me very hhhhhhhhhhh

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eretzyisrael · 25 days ago

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by Jake Wallis Simons

People often forget that Judaism is two millennia older than Islam and 1,500 years older than Christianity. Israel was the cradle of Jewish civilisation. At least a thousand years before the birth of Jesus Christ, Jerusalem’s most famous Jew, King David, made the city the capital of the Land of Israel. It has been home to greater or lesser numbers of Jews – the very word ‘Jew’ is a shortening of Judea, the ancient kingdom radiating from Jerusalem in the Iron Age – in Jerusalem ever since.

Culturally, Jews have always intertwined their identity with the land of Israel, particularly since they were exiled to Babylon around 598 BC, when their powerful yearning for return took hold. For millennia, Jews in the diaspora have prayed facing towards the Holy City, exclaimed ‘next year in Jerusalem’ at Passover, mourned the destruction of the Temple by breaking a glass at weddings, longed to be buried there, prayed at the remaining walls of the destroyed Temple, and visited on pilgrimage. Many throughout history have taken the step of uprooting their families and returning to their homeland. All these practices continue to this day.

A thread can be traced backwards through Jewish history that shows the ancient roots of the ideal of repatriation. Beginning in 1516, Palestine – as it had been renamed by the Romans – fell under Ottoman rule, which would last for more than 400 years. Less than 50 years after the conquest, Joseph Nasi, the Duke of Naxos, a Portuguese Jewish diplomat favoured by the Ottomans, attempted to return Jews to their homeland without regard for scriptural prophecies about awaiting the coming of the messiah. In a way, he was the first Zionist.

The fortunes of the Jews of the Holy Land rose and fell over the following centuries. In 1860, the British financier Sir Moses Montefiore, who believed in the divine providence of the British Empire and the Jewish return to Zion, founded the community of Mishkenot Shana’anim just outside the Old City of Jerusalem. Composed of red-brick alms houses and a windmill, it was the earliest forerunner of the future state (the windmill still stands today).

Modern Jewish migration to Palestine began in 1883 with an influx of 25,000 Jewish arrivals, many fleeing anti-Semitic mobs in Russia and inspired by a desire to return to their ancestral lands. Jews also came from as far afield as Persia and Yemen, grouping into their own neighbourhoods. Immigrants from Bukhara, Uzbekistan, including the Moussaieff family of jewellers who had cut diamonds for Genghis Khan, created the Bukharan Quarter (Shkhunat HaBucharim), with its distinctly Central Asian feel. Their imperative to return had been building for thousands of years.

Theodor Herzl in Basel, Switzerland, during the first Zionist Congress, 1897.

Writing in the Jewish Chronicle in 1896, Theodor Herzl, the father of modern Israel, laid out the concept of Zionism. ‘I am introducing no new idea’, he pointed out. ‘On the contrary, it is a very old one. It is a universal idea – and therein lies its power – old as the people, which never, even in the time of bitterest calamity, ceased to cherish it. This is the restoration of the Jewish State.’ He added: ‘It is remarkable that we Jews should have dreamt this kingly dream all through the long night of our history. Now day is dawning. We need only rub the sleep out of our eyes, stretch our limbs, and convert the dream into a reality

#israel #zionism #judaism #christianity #islam #theodor herzl #jews

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dreamingthroughwords · 4 months ago

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thinking about hua cheng throughout the story and got thinking about nameless soldier version.

i find the nameless soldier version of him just so interesting because we know the least about it, a lot of it is indirect or inferring (from what i remember). obviously we know as wuming he’s xie lians only believer when he almost became the white clothed calamity; but before he died he was one of the only people still defending the prince of xianle, still believing in xie lian. not only this but he’s was one of the only witnesses a traumatizing experience for xie lian - land of the tenders - that directly prayed on xie lian’s belief & cultivation - and it’s the first time he had to watch his highness harm himself to get out of a situation like that and he could do nothing to help. but he was there, and each time he kept coming back and defending xie lian - fighting people away from his desecrating temples still believing in him. even when xie lian himself tells him to forget him, this is the first time he does not listen to xie lian’s order - because he refuses to not believe in his God, no matter what. he absolutely won’t forget him - and he didn’t.

he was one of the last (presumably) on the battlefield fighting for xianle, since we don’t know exactly when he died, but it can be inferred. one of the only people, or honestly probably the only person, who still believed it was an honour to die for his highness when he did die. and he was so young, too. so young when he died for who he believed in, never stopped believing in, and will forever believe in, no matter what form he takes

#might be missing some small details cause it’s been a little since i read arc 2 #i just think this version of him is interesting cause we don’t see it a lot #also if he had a name during this arc i’m so sorry #but i think he’s just referred to as a young soldier #tgcf #hua cheng #hualian #tgcf spoilers #tgcf meta #character analysis #sarah rambles #tgcf analysis

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firefly-factory · 3 days ago

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Braids, Mourning, and Timelines

Getting emotional thinking about Astor's braids and the different timelines

(Long post warning. Headcanons incoming)

I've touched on this before, but as a reminder, in my headcanon his braids all signify the most important people in his life (growing up, everyone he knew braided their hair for the same reasons)

But what I HAVENT explained is the significance of the braid that crosses over his face. Put simply, it's a mourning ritual.

When someone loses a loved one (a family member, close friend, etc) they undo the braid that had honored the loved one (these are most commonly done to either side of the face) and then weave a new braid closer to the front of their face. This act tends to be very private, and is often reserved as a moment of quiet meditation for the mourner, amidst the chaos of the loss.

The braid itself is a more public act of mourning, as its prominence on the mourner's face reminds the village that they recently lost someone. Symbolically, it acknowledges that in this moment grief and other such emotions are likely at the forefront of the mourners mind. Its placement is inconvenient, often obscuring the mourners vision slightly. It reminds the mourner that their own judgement might be similarly clouded during this time. Further, when braided with artifacts of the deceased - beads, or even strands of their hair - it serves as a tangible connection to those who are gone.

Okay, so what does this have to do with Astor? Who is he mourning?

It seems counterintuitive, considering how callous he seems in the moment, but Astor's braid honors and mourns Herod, as well as the other cult members who Astor killed in the ritual. It was a small detail, but if you look closely at this snippet of my Harbinger comic:

You can see he is wearing the mourning braid (for the first time* throughout the comic). Because he knows how this is going to end (at least for Herod) and he already hurts, despite the fact that he knows it's inevitable. He hates Herod, but it doesn't stop him from feeling

*starred because I did use this symbolism very early on when Astor's ears were cut, but it wasn't a full braid. A little detail so I doubt anyone noticed, but it's in part because this is a critical "loss of innocence" moment for Astor, and although it's treated likr a celebration by the rest of the family, all he feels is a deep sense of loss (see below)

And there's MORE

A critical part of the mourning ritual - perhaps even more so than the initial braiding - is the moment of release, when the mourner finally feels ready to return fully into society and officially end their mourning period. It doesnt mean that they don't still miss or care for the deceased, but it means that they've come to terms with it, and are more able to focus on the day to day.

There's no set time period for when someone is expected to release their braid. It varies widely from individual to individual, and can sometimes be as simple an act as quietly unbraiding the hair and continuing about your day to day. If that's what you do, no one will question it. In fact, it's a frequent occurrence for people to unbraid and rebraid their hair, as they try to make sense of the emotions and figure out if they're really ready to move on. In some cases, the mourner will come to the end of the mourning period and instead of undoing the braid, they will cut it off (and sometimes make it into jewelry, sort of like Victorian mourning jewelry)

But the thing that was making me emotional is- in the Age of Calamity timeline, Astor never undoes his braid. He never moves on. He is bound, because even though he believes it couldn't have gone any different, he's still the one who pulled the trigger (so to speak).

I'd like to think that in the botw/totk timeline, where his role in Calamity is far less active, he is able to eventually move on (because Herod still dies, even if the circumstances are slightly different).

I want to imagine that there's a timeline where Astor can finally take his hair out of the braid and live for himself <3

#firefly rambles #astor #astor aoc #cw: death #headcanons #i think about those braids way too much for my own good #was just drawing botw timeline astor and got into the feels #zelda fanfiction #my writing

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misspelledwordswizard · 2 months ago

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Chapter 2 - My new peaceful life

Previous chapter / Next chapter

I didn’t become conscious until I was two years old. In fact, there wasn’t a single moment when I regained consciousness and my memories, it all came gradually, when I realized, I was living with this information.

So, I was reincarnated. Wow, incredible, my miserable life ended only for a new one to begin. I was born into a simple but loving family, it was just me and my parents, they always did everything for me, even with such low conditions.

I had a normal childhood, I was a normal baby, a little smarter than most after the age of two, but it’s still hard to think with such a limited body. Of course, I noticed the little differences in people in this life and in my previous life, like their pointy ears and different culture, not to mention the lack of technology around there. But I didn’t really figure out where I was until I was five.

Until then, I thought I was in a world where humans were actually elves, until one day when I was still a child. My father was talking to a friend in a meadow near our house, they met by chance on the way, while I was playing in the grass with bugs or whatever else I could find. I don’t remember much, but something caught my attention, and I started to distance myself from my father, who was too focused on his conversation to notice, and I went deeper and deeper into the trees.

I walked a little, picking flowers and the occasional mushroom – I’m pretty sure some of them were poisonous, my hands were itchy afterwards – and then I heard a loud noise as something hit the tree next to me hard. I froze, startled, watching the creature that was bigger than me retreat back into the earth. As the creature prepared to attack again, I found myself in the same situation as a few years ago, sensing my death, I saw the projectile coming towards me while my body did not respond to my commands to escape, and then everything went dark.

Luckily, my father had arrived in time, the darkness I saw was his tunic blocking my vision as he stood in front of me, taking the attack in my place. He quickly picked me up and took me away, I had never been so grateful as in that moment, and after a few scoldings for leaving his side, I finally managed to think and identified the creature.

What attacked me was nothing more than na Octorok, my years as a big nerd in my past life granted me this knowledge, and it was then that I realized, those people were not elves, they were Hylians, and that was not just any world, I was in Hyrule, I was reincarnated in the universe of The Legend of Zelda games. Well, cool, I guess. It didn’t interfere much in my life, to tell the truth. I continued to grow up peacefully, and over time I discovered more specifically where and when I was. My parents lived in a small house in Hateno, the situation in Hyrule was bad for everyone, lots of monsters, the places seemed abandoned, so it was clear that I had been born during the great calamity, a few years before the hero woke up. Despite everything, I was raised with a lot of love. I missed my family from my past life a lot, but my current family never stopped giving me a lot of love and I grew attached to them too. I had some friends in my childhood, but I couldn’t deepen these friendships. After all, mentally I was much older than them, so I preferred to spend my time listening to the conversations – gossip – of the adults.

I met few throughout my life. Since I hardly left the village, I was out of danger, but that didn’t stop me from taking precautions and exercising my body so that I would at least be able to run if I needed to escape. It was when I was sixteen that rumors began to circulate, saying that the hero had awakened after a hundred years of slumber. Hope once again circulated throughout the kingdom. Of course, I was already expecting this to happen soon, which was good, of course, but it wouldn’t affect me directly, at least not until the calamity was finally defeated.

A year later, I decided it was time to start my own life and no longer depend on my parents. Hateno suddenly seemed too small for me, I knew there were wonders in Hyrule, even though I wasn’t the adventurous type, this desire to know more things lived inside me. In seventeen years of life I had never even seen another race other than the Hylians, I wanted to meet new people, new places, to do something different than just following life without real goals like in my last life. So, I went far from Hateno, along with a group of adventurers who could escort me to safety. I went near Dueling Peaks, I started working at the stable there, which was good, because I also managed to stay temporarily until I could find a house in the region. After some effort, I managed to build a small cabin among the trees, isolated but still close to work. It was almost rewarding, now I had my own space with everything I needed, a bed, a bookshelf and a small kitchen area with a table for one. It was good, it was peaceful.

Every three months I would still visit my parents, the journey was long, but the longing was too great to bear, and there were no means of fast communication in that era. Nine months passed like that, until the calamity was defeated. During that time I even managed to see the hero – Link – who sometimes passed by the stable, but I never exchanged even a word with him, funny, I didn’t remember that he had long hair... and I thought he would be shorter. But I just watched as he ran from one side to the other doing his things or helping people. I wonder if he managed to get all the Korok seeds.

Well, things definitely improved with the end of the Calamity, fewer monsters, Hyrule was preparing for reconstruction, I heard that Purah was on the move, leaving Hateno and heading to the center of the kingdom. Again, this may have made things safer, but it didn't affect me directly, my life continued as usual, and everything was fine. I never had any hopes of getting involved with important characters from the games, much less the hero or the princess or the hero. I was fine with that.

Well, which brings us to this moment in my life. Almost a year after the end of the Calamity, I went to visit my parents recently, I had arrived home yesterday and today I was busy organizing my things, since I had to go back to work tomorrow. My day started late, I arrived exhausted late last night after a lot of walking, I didn't even change my clothes before passing out on my bed, and now I had breakfast an hour before lunch time.

Unfortunately for me, I had a lot to do. As soon as I finished eating, I left the house to be graced by the sunlight, which touched my skin and enveloped me in a comfortable warmth as I headed towards the nearest river to fetch water for my chores. Since it was a rather long journey to repeat, I always took a large barrel of water, which I carried in a wheelbarrow I improvised myself. It wasn’t the best, but it worked. After refilling my water, I started cleaning my little cabin. The good thing about a small space is that it also requires little effort. I swept and wiped the floor with a damp cloth, then used a smaller cloth to clean the furniture. I searched the cupboards for food that was out of stock. I needed vegetables and greens, but I couldn’t spend them now. My paycheck wouldn’t be until next week. Well, my only option would be to look for nature.

Having reached this conclusion, I prepared myself by grabbing a basket and left the house again, now walking peacefully while looking for possible fruits, mushrooms or anything else that I could find around here. The wind gently caressed my cheeks as I walked, the sun, just a few hours away from setting, illuminated my path with orange lights. Peace. It was the perfect word to describe it. If in my past life someone had told me that I would finally live in peace only after dying and being reincarnated in a video game, I would have thought it was the greatest absurdity. Anyone would think that, it was crazy, but it’s my reality. I managed to get some mushrooms and apples, but the sun was already setting, even with a low monster count I wouldn’t risk wandering around at night, so I started to make my way back to my hideout. What a shame, I wish I had found carrots.

The sound of crickets was what accompanied me on my way back, in a peaceful and controversially silent symphony. How hungry. The sound coming from my stomach accompanied my thoughts. I forgot to eat lunch, my stomach is empty. After a few minutes of brisk walking I found myself back at the door of my house, opening it, causing a creak, I entered the peaceful and comforting territory, making sure the door behind me was closed. I went straight to my kitchen area.

There were no divisions in my cabin, it was all one room, but it was comfortable, and more than necessary. I took my old pot, filled it with water and put the two potatoes I had at home to cook, then with my small frying pan I used another burner on my wood stove to sauté the mushrooms I had picked today. When I finished the potatoes were already cooked, so I took them out and mashed them, seasoning with a little salt. I put everything on a plate and took it to the table, sitting in my lonely chair.

Mashed potatoes and sautéed mushrooms. Not the best, but it’s good enough for today. Tomorrow I have work, so I’ll go straight to bed after eating. Surprisingly, even in another life I still have bad luck with jobs, I definitely don’t like having to spend the day feeding horses and cleaning up their waste. But that’s temporary. When I can save up enough money to support myself I’ll go on a little trip, I’d love to see Rito Village or the Gerudo Desert, although the idea of dealing with extreme cold or extreme heat doesn’t appeal to me.

I’m not sure what my dream job would be, but maybe I’ll find it along the way. Or just spend my life doing whatever nature gives me, whatever is easiest. My mind wandered, thinking about the future as I ate without enthusiasm. I feel lonely. Well, it was by choice, and of course, I love living isolated from society, but now I feel very lonely. I have no friends, my parents live far away, the most exciting things in my life are the books I read and the stories of the travelers who pass by the stable. Maybe I should adopt a dog... or a cat. After I finished eating, I cleaned all the utensils I used so as not to accumulate dirt, then I undressed so I could clean myself and wash off the dirt and sweat that had impregnated my body. Man, how I miss showers. If I had a shower at home, I would take three showers a day.

Unfortunately, I am forced to take cold showers in the nearby river only a few times a week. I miss perfumes too. I hate being dirty and smelly. I brushed off the thickest part of the dirt and put on my most comfortable clothes to sleep, while organizing a change of clothes for when I woke up. I had already laid down on my small bed when I remembered to pick up a book from my bookshelf to read before going to sleep. It took me a while to be able to read, the speech might have been the same, but the alphabet was completely different. So I needed more effort to learn how to read and write.The good thing is that I always kept diaries in the alphabet of the earth, which protects me from having my secrets leaked. It was very useful, even though my parents tried to exorcise me when I was a child, thinking that I had been possessed by na evil spirit that wrote strange symbols.

As I stood in front of my bookshelf, choosing a book, I thought I heard noises coming from the direction of my bed. I looked around and saw nothing, the noise had stopped too, so I just shrugged my shoulders. As soon as I turned my attention back to my books, a loud noise came from the direction of my bed. I looked up in alarm, unable to see clearly due to the dust that had been kicked up.

Destroyed

Everything was destroyed, the wall behind my bed had a huge and irregular hole, pieces of wood scattered all over the place, my bed was completely broken and crushed under a piece of my wall, and on top of this severed part of my wooden wall was a blond man, groaning in pain, while screams, noises of combat and sounds of bokoblins invaded the air. Through the hole in the wall I could see several men with swords and shields fighting against a bunch of angry bokoblins in a great confusion of sounds and movements. The man who was on my destroyed bed and wall soon recovered and returned to the fight, leaving me standing still in front of my precious books that now no longer held my attention.

— What the fu-

#linked universe x reader #link x reader #legend of zelda #linked universe fanfic #linked universe #lu x reader #lu wild x reader #lu hyrule x reader #lu legend x reader #lu time x reader #lu four x reader #lu sky x reader #lu twilight x reader #lu warriors x reader

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onesunofagun · 1 year ago

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I will now yell about Fi and Ghirahim as symbols of their respective creators, please stand by:

So, the biggest slap addition the lore that Skyward Sword gave us was (Her Grace) Hylia and (the Bringer of) Demise. Entities who, regardless of confusing localisation choices, exist as two sides of the same coin and are locked into a mutual karmic cycle.

They reflect each other like a mirror, and also represent an antithesis of each other, seemingly existing as consequence to one other. They were presented as the penultimate deities of the physical and metaphysical realms of their world since the advent of its creation by the departed Golden Goddesses; twinned yet opposite, and each both inevitable and necessary.

Shadow; Light. Chaos; Order. Indulgence; Restraint. Upheaval; Stability. Primordial; Designed. Spite; Grace. Hidden; Seen.

Ghirahim; Fi.

It goes right down to the blades that Demise and Hylia would level at one another. The spirits of each are a representative of the principles and philosophy championed by their creators.

Now, the closer you get to the works and relics of the Gods/Gods Tribe in Zelda, the more you see divine constructs that blur the line of spiritual magic and advanced technology, and are ostensibly both. This was a direction that really bloomed in Skyward Sword, taking a running start on it that games hereafter have followed. The caveat is that only certain special people chosen by Gods or otherwise given permission to use this kind of Magitech can interact with it or produce things like it (either at all, or without punishment).

Even the Sheikah, who have closely served the intentions of the Gods/Spirits of Light (Hylia and her aligned) all throughout history, make the mistake of getting too comfortable in their inspiration and cross the line into imitations. Despite the successful utilisation of, and later recovery of, certain Sheikah Tech such as the Divine Beasts to positive effect, the tragedy of both the Sheikah's Divide and the Calamity's hijacking of Hyrulean defence systems is still played as a cautionary tale of hubris and knowing one's place in the natural order of things.

The Sheikah were effectively making unauthorised knockoffs of Divine Magitech and it bit them on the arse.

Can't have shit in Hyrule.

Pretty much every significantly advanced tribe in Zelda has a stated closeness to 'the Gods'. Either by being adjacent to or descended from deities and spirits collectively known as the Gods (specifically the Gods Tribe in JP), they are still distinctly subordinate to and separated from entities such as Hylia and the three Golden Goddesses.

Confirmed to be included in this special grouping are the Zonai and the Oocca, for instance. Speculatively, the Wind Tribe are an example of people who ascended (with permission or worthiness) from the surface-- they are an arguably Gerudo adjacent tribe who may even be precursors to the Zonai or related to the Twili.

The Picori, at the very least those in their native realm, also certainly count as part of this grouping. Though it could be argued whether those descent Minish living on the surface still do.

The Sheikah, it should be noted, have never gained entry to this Gods club. Despite their proximity in worship and service to Hylia, historically, they've also done some pretty shady things-- like the Shadow Temple and the general murder and espionage stuff -- that may have otherwise excluded them from ascending like the Wind Tribe did. They walk a grey line, and they have a duty in the eyes of the Powers That Be that apparently prefer they stay put.

Not Turtle-y enough for the Turtle Club.

Another example of this Icarus flying too close to the Sun type cautionary tale, and a far more egregious offender in the eyes of the Gods Tribe, are the 'Interlopers' who would eventually become the Twili. They were a tribe of people that, while squabbling with others, tried to take dominion of Hyrule (referred to itself as the Sacred Realm/Holy Land in TP) with powerful magic that more or less gave them a winning advantage. Specifically, the Crystal Stone of Shadow (the Fused Shadow) which greatly amplified their magical power.

Banished by the Spirits of the Light whole cloth into an underworld (lit. A Realm of the Dead) that we also know as the Twilight Realm, they have been shunned from the land they tried to conquer and transformed by shadow so much, they're now allergic to the light (without sufficient mystical power to bolster themselves).

Basically, the intended message is this: any earthly people who have advanced themselves without approval by the Gods Tribe-- especially by using Divine Constructs as inspiration or means-- have therefore disrupted the order of things, and stacked the deck too much in their own favour. Even if the intent was primarily a fixation on preserving Hylia's bloodline, and by extension her sacred land, it is still possible to elevate oneself above your contemporaries (especially the capacities of the Royal Family line in Hyrule) in such a way that you impose too much independent influence upon the the natural world.

No longer following 'the way of the Gods' (the Gods Tribe law) or respecting the order of things (ala Shintoist inspiration), you are labelled a disruption to harmony and peace, and therefore seen as corrupted and pollutive, and generally negative in your impact. You will then be chased off, at the very least, unless you renege-- for fear that you will bring in demonic influences or be used by them. This has canonically happened to both the Gerudo and the Sheikah, now.

But you know who Magic Constructs on par with the Gods Tribe, except it's more eldritch and organic-looking and primordial in form? It's the other club, the one that the disenfranchised Sheikah went and banged on the door of, hoping to be let in if they started wearing cool red and black outfits and changed their name and stopped worshipping Hylia.

Yeah. It's the Demon Tribe-- who are pretty much just the inverse reflection of the Gods Tribe and its set up. Their Magitech equivalents, and what they can do, only serve to further cement this.

Specifically, if you could suggest that the Gods Tribe's main objective is maintaining a status quo of shared prosperity that provides an ordered and peaceful existence through conformity and tradition, the Demon tribe is an ever churning well of opportunity where winner takes all. It is a hierarchy built on brutal meritocracy, honed by constant challenges and hard won continuation-- survival and status fought for and maintained by individualistic influence and innovation.

Many various little bastards exist in the Demon Tribe. Bosses in charge of sub-tribes of monsters are commonly seen, but they have their minor Deities ad Spirits, too. The head honchos are called Demon Kings (plural, because it doesn't describe a single position, but rather just very powerful Demons who have clout). Demise is both a Demon King, namely the most powerful one, and also the 'Chief' of the Demon Tribe; just as, in this case, Hylia could be considered the 'Chief' of the Gods Tribe. So, Demon God-King, really.

While Demise is incapacitated by Hylia's seal, his role as the Chief of the Demon Tribe is actually the position that Ghirahim fills in for as his (literal) right hand man-- the very extension of his arm, as his blade.

Both the Master Sword (Fi) and Ghirahim himself are, perhaps, some of the most advanced forms of this sort of Magitech we've actually ever seen.

Ghirahim goes above and beyond in his role, even going so far as to cultivate his full persona as a Demon in his own right in order to maintain his authority as the effective Regent while the big boy is incapacitated. He disguises his true form and nature, and with a surprising level of autonomy and self-transformation for what he is, sets about attending his duties with great devotion.

He seems to have an incredibly intuitive and flexible mode of operation. His sentience is full of creativity, emotionality, and genuine potential that he has the capacity to explore and shape with great freedom, for the construct that he is.

He is flamboyant and attention grabbing, highly expressive. He entertains great personal indulgence, even going so far as to toy with Link in a manner that borders on vicious training for a while. Though in part due to his undeniable sadism, Ghirahim almost can't help himself but to continue to test and push against the potential as a swordsman that the Hero has, inadvertently cultivating its growth.

This depth of identity and adaption he's capable of was either an intentional part of his design, or specifically not prevented by it-- both of which stand to represent something of Demise and Demonkind. The lengths to which Ghirahim is allowed to wield himself when not in his creator's hand is remarkable and, though he is shown to be unable to override actual commands from his master, it stands in an interesting contrast to Fi.

Where Ghirahim is able to radically redefine his own presentation and function to best suit his Master's needs in a way that mimics the organic, Fi's evolution is far more linear and streamlined, never really deviating from systematic updates. Though the sword itself is subject to physical restorations, Fi's personal appearance is unchanged and reflective of her true shape, indicating that her tempering in the Sacred Flames is either a slow return to previous form or a pre-programmed and permanent upgrade set into motion by Hylia. It is also an evolution that is entirely dependant upon the actions of others, largely lacking the individual agency and flexibility that Ghirahim possesses.

Not to suggest that Fi is any less devoted to her purpose, however.

She is, quite unlike Ghirahim's aspect of individual advancement, wholly geared toward a model of mutual enhancement with a partner. She is built with a singular and clear objective in mind, perfectly designed to suit the needs of the one wielding her as a supplement to their ability, rather than an autonomous servant. She defers entirely to her Master's decisions at all times, though does make informed suggestions, and does not appear to be able to relocate the physical sword on her own. Many of her abilities are things that must be directly requested of her.

Even when she is given to performance, such as her singing or her ballet, these are seemingly dispassionate affairs that are precisely executed, preprogramed displays for Link's benefit. Absolutely nothing, not even particular inflections of emotionality, must risk the distortion of her relayed messages and guidance to Link-- these displays may also be something analogous to morale boosting rewards or a really weird form of reverence to the musically inclined Hylia. Either way, Fi is highly logical and presents herself foremost as an instrument and a tool. She does not indulge in a persona or otherwise engage in anything not directly tied to her assigned mission-- she does not get distracted or indulge personal whims as Ghirahim does. But critically, a large part of her design is geared towards an awareness of her surroundings. Fi has a visible consciousness for the living things around her at all times, contrasting to Ghirahim's seeming negligence of them and open disdain.

Fi's orderly efficiency and lack of cultivated personality to detract from her purpose make the fact of her construction obvious. Unlike Ghirahim, her true nature and her task is almost painfully undisguised. She exists in a simple sincerity, almost austere, seemingly unwilling or unable to seek function beyond her designation without being updated by another. However, her concentrated application seems to achieve concentrated results, strengthening both herself and her wielder in a near impenetrable mutual reinforcement.

It is perhaps of no coincidence that, despite Fi's seeming inflexibility and clinical pragmatism, she also expresses something of a fondness for Link at the end-- in many ways, mirroring her Divine creator. She does this very robotically, by correlating her collected data time spent together and their completed task with what she's observed of human happiness.

Skyward Sword seems to argue that Ghirahim's main flaw is spreading himself too thin, or trying to be so many other things, that he falls short as a sword in the end. It suggests that his sin, like others in the franchise, is getting too big for his boots scabbard and letting his pride become his downfall. His individualism gets presented with a great cost, as he has only enhanced himself in ways that seemingly do not apply when he returns to his primary function as a sword. The emotionality he has, such as the frustration and cockiness and bloodlust he indulges, are also shown to lower his successes-- reducing the sense of his efficiency and precision beside the ever level, measured Fi.

When he returns to Demise's hand, Ghirahim is already weakened and spent. Despite all he's done for his Master's revival, Demise is left to fight with a paling version of the blade that once fatally wounded Hylia-- not unlike a Master Sword in need of restoration to its full power.

There's a legend regarding Gorō Nyūdō Masamune, widely regarded as the greatest swordsmith in Japanese history, and Sengo Muramasa, who is famously known for creating unique and terrifically sharp blades that are considered cursed.

It starts when Muramasa challenges Masamune to see who can make a finer sword. When the work is done, they go down to a river, and place the blades in the water with the cutting edge towards the current.

Muramasa's sword, which he named Ten Thousand Winter Nights, cuts everything that floats its way-- leaves, fish, even the wind that happened across it. It is so sharp that nothing escapes unscathed.

Masamune's sword, named Tender Hands, is placed in the river and cuts the leaves that go by so seamlessly, they reform on the other side. Fish swim up to it and seem to be repelled by its aura, avoiding death. The wind kisses the blade gently with a pleasant whistle.

Muramasa isn't impressed by this. He thinks the blade is useless, barely cutting anything at all, and starts to remark on the lack of skill. Masamune smiles at the criticism, but merely compliments that Muramasa's sword is indeed quite sharp.

A monk who had watched all this from nearby approaches at that point, bows, and interjects with his own observations.

Though he too observes that Muramasa's sword is technically very finely made, he notes that it's a bloodthirsty, wicked blade. It cuts anything in its path indiscriminately, he says, and would just as soon cut a butterfly in half as remove somebody's head.

Masamune's sword, however, was the clear winner in the monk's opinion-- a gentle blade that did not needlessly cut that which was innocent or undeserving, tempered by grace. It is a benevolent sword, and so far finer made.

In popular culture, Muramasa's blades have held onto their violent reputation. There's a superstition that they can compel their wielder to murder. It has even been said that, once drawn, they can't be sheathed again until their thirst for blood is sated-- even if it has to drink from its own wielder.

They also had a weirdly consistent habit of maiming or killing members of the Tokugawa Shogunate, and so became an anti-Tokugawa symbol synonymous with the rebellion. So that's fun.

But Masamune was considered to be a very calm man, who was controlled and reserved and quite spiritual. Muramasa, though, was depicted as an aggressive man, who was a bit wild and kinda unpredictable. As far as the folk stories go, Muramasa is depicted as having been quite envious of Masamune. Unlike Masamune, who approached his craft as the art of achieving clean death, they say Muramasa needed to transfer his unhinged energy into his blades to keep from being overwhelmed by it himself.

Because their natures bled into the swords they created, it was believed that Masamune and Muramasa imbued them with purifying and demonic power, respectively.

Just as with Demise and Hylia and the swords that they created-- as inspired by such a legend-- the spirits inside of them represent their natures, as well.

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