*sigh* thoughts on Nintendo's botw/totk timeline shenanigans and tomfoolery?
tbh. my maybe-unpopular opinion is that the timeline is only important when a game's place on the timeline seriously informs the way their narrative progresses. the problem is that before botw we almost NEVER got games where it didn't matter. it matters for skyward sword because it's the beginning, and it matters for tp/ww/alttp (and their respective sequels) because the choices the hero of time makes explicitly inform the narrative of those games in one way or another. it matters which timeline we're in for those games because these cycles we're seeing are close enough to oot's cycle that they're still feeling the effects of his choices. botw, however, takes place at minimum 10 thousand years after oot, so its place on the timeline actually functionally means nothing. botw is completely divorced from the hero of time & his story, so what he does is a nonissue in the context of botw link and zelda's story. thus, which timeline botw happens in is a nonissue. honestly I kind of liked the idea that it happened in all of them. i think there's a cool idea of inevitability that can be played with there. but the point is that the timeline exists to enhance and fill in the lore of games that need it, and botw/totk don't really need it because the devs finally realized they could make a game without the hero of time in it.
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the quiet tragedy of verin being the one who never quite made it out.
for most of their lives, essek was the one who was entrenched in expectations, in the politics of their den. while verin was stationed far from the heart of the dynasty, ostensibly free from the eyes of his elders, essek was sitting beside their mother in court and speaking before the queen. and it made sense, because essek had always been better at all of it — the posturing, the sweet-talking, the ladder-climbing. his brother the black sleep was still his brother the prodigy; his brother the heretic was still his brother the shadowhand.
but then, essek meets new people and they get through to him and change him and make him softer, make him better (and why them? what is it about them, that they could do what verin never could?) and he runs. he gives up the title and the status and the power and leaves it all (leaves verin) behind.
suddenly, verin is the lone newsoul of den thelyss, the one with all eyes on him, with the expectations meant for two brothers falling squarely on his shoulders and only his in the absence of their other target. he is still the youngest of his den, the one they all watch and wait to be disappointed by, but there is no one to share that burden with anymore and all at once it becomes painfully clear that distance never really was freedom.
essek has a family, then — not a den but a family, with love and trust and care and warmth and all the things essek once called verin childish for craving — and a welcoming home to go to with someone who loves him waiting there and a garden in the front yard, and verin is left still fighting demons under the banner of a god (of a family, of a home) he only half-believes in.
and maybe they see each other more often then. maybe bazzoxan is remote enough that it’s safe for essek to visit in disguise. maybe essek’s friends come too and are kind enough to offer a taste of what essek has now and verin can almost believe it’s his too. maybe essek doesn’t even fight it anymore when verin insists on hugging him. but how much can that really fix? how much can it really change?
an unloved man leaves no one behind when he finally makes a better life for himself, but essek was never an unloved man. not really.
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Left without her special friend and protector (George Schlee), Garbo has taken up with some of her companions of earlier years, including Gayelord Hauser. Thanks, apparently, to his continued intake of blackstrap molasses, yoghurt and other “living” foods, Hauser, at 75, still a bachelor, remains full of bounce, and is noticeably pleased to resume the role of occasional escort. Garbo spent part of the summer following Schlee's death cruising among the Greek islands with two other old friends, Cecil Beaton, the fashionable British photographer and man about the arts, and Baroness Cecile de Rothschild, on the latter's yacht.
The Baroness, a daughter of a French banker is a white-haired, self-assured, cosmopolitan woman, who has made a reputation as connoisseur of objets d'art and people. Being the kind of person who is accustomed to taking command, she was the one to whom Garbo turned when Schlee was stricken, and it was to her Paris residence that Garbo repaired.
The Baroness is among the select few who visit Garbo in her apartment and are entrusted with her private telephone number. Possession of the number does not, however, guarantee getting through to its owner. As often as not, Garbo will answer the phone, and even if the caller's voice is as instantly recognizable as, for example, Cecil Beaton's, she will reply in the impersonal tone of a maid, “Miss Garbo isn't in. Is there a message?” Not all of her friends find this little conceit amusing.
Greta Garbo in Grand Hotel (1932) directed by Edmund Goulding.
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tries to do away with it entirely / thus continuing to refer to it indirectly (xo - fall out boy, 2005 // what we buried - caitlyn siehl, 2014 // saturday night again - patrick stump, 2011)
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fixed up some old art of them in light of the S2 announcement!!!
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I think we should lean into the ghosty side of fnaf yk
Of course in the original Pizzarias (FNAF 1 & 2) there are probably reports of kiddish laughter after hours, but I mean more so in the SB era, like in the books so much death has taken place in the PizzaPlex, so much energy is always constantly in motion
so like maybe during closing, a staff member will see a little girl with ice cream in her hands, next to the Cupcake shoppe, and while they try to alert someone on their walkie talkie, she vanishes,
Maybe another staff member will see a girl with a green bracelet next to the rockstar row FNAF 1 stage recreation, but she's only there in passing blinks,
And sometimes there's a small boy with tears on his face looking at the golden Glamrock Freddy statue in the lobby, looking at it with a face that shows they have some sort of history, and despite the tears, his expression only has a resigned contentment on it,
and on the nights where Freddy is fully deactivated, a slightly older looking boy stands next to him, with a vintage looking Fox mask on, and when approached, they look at the staff, nod along, follow behind, and then disappear into thin air
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