#its his destiny hes doomed by the bit

[strawglicks]

If graham ever beat cathal at anything (will never happen)

[elegantsplendour]

Fire and Storm

Summary: As the Seven Kingdoms hesitated between the Blacks and the Greens, Aemond stood ready to flip the script.

Dance of the Empire inspired one shot.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Lannister! reader, mentioned Aegon II Targaryen x Lannister! reader

Note: Hi my dearies, I’m so sorry I haven’t been active in the last month. Transitioning from Montreal to Toronto has been a lot to handle. But the good news is that I got elected as student council vp in my new school🤪. Here is a one shot inspired by my first fic Dance of the Empire (a bit spoiler). I will be back writing all the three fics and will try to update weekly. Thank you all for sticking with me❤️❤️❤️

Warnings: major character death

Tagging my friends :) @qyburnsghost @lovelykhaleesiii @boundlessfantasy @vhagarswar @purple-writer8 @valeska-fics @lexi-anastasia @f4ll-for-you

Within the chilling walls of the seat of House Baratheon, the hearth held a flame that danced rebelliously, threatening to bite those misfortunate enough to find themselves in proximity. Torrential water poured mercilessly from the sky while the wind howled ruthlessly. Sealed by the solid bricks of the castle, the flames, fragile compared to the frightful storm yet unpredictable and dangerous in nature, continued to consume silently.

The silver haired prince sat calmly by the scorching heat, his long fingers brushing against each other. It had been two days since the Lord of Storm’s End pledged allegiance to the prince’s elder brother, called by some the Usurper, in return for a marriage pact between the prince and one of the lord’s daughters. Amidst the looming threat of a deadly civil war, every second counted, but his delay was calculated. Aemond had been waiting silently and patiently for his nephew's arrival, much like a flame waiting to devour its fuel.

A servant knocked by the door, bowed and announced the news. Without a word, he arose from the chair and paced through the solemn hall of the castle with stately ease. The effortless regality exuded from his presence was as if he was on his way of being coronated. A sharp curl appeared on the corner of his thin lips as he recalled his drunken and debauched brother , expecting the Conqueror’s Crown on his head like an infant. With each step Aemond took, he felt himself drawing nearer to his desires: power and her.

Aemond Targaryen wanted everything and was ready to steal, scheme and slaughter.

Unlike his half sister Rhaenyra, the named heir of the late King Viserys, or his brother Aegon, born with the title of the first born son, Aemond Targaryen's life was a battle, a relentless one against a seemingly inescapable destiny of becoming another insignificant Targaryen royal, riding an ordinary dragon, holding a hollow position in court, accompanied by a mediocre noble woman, doomed to be forgotten in history.

However, when his mother suggested betrothing him to the eldest daughter of Tyland Lannister, he was taken aback. Could he, the overlooked second son, really be promised the "Beauty of Casterly Rock" and an alliance with the house guarding mountains of gold? Promises were a strange to the One-Eyed Prince, as he had always been a taker, much like he had claimed the largest dragon in the world. The fleeting memories of the golden lady of emerald eyes all appeared to him a cruel jest. The tender moments of her smiles were overshadowed by her anguished cries upon learning that she had been bartered off to Aemond’s elder brother Aegon, who would rather bury himself between the legs of harlots of the Flea Bottom.

Contained fury blazed in his chest as Aemond watched the young Lucerys Velaryon, his bastard nephew, who had taken his eye eight years ago.

Lucerys conveyed with a trembling voice Rhaenyra’s message to the Lord of Storm’s End. Aemond paid no attention to the words coming out of his mouth. His one violet eye burnt a hole in the quivering messenger. His throat throbbed with thirst for retribution as the flashes of scarlet and black that had blinded his eye when Lucerys’ blade had cut through his flesh.

This rage was tainted with despair, for what he truly desired was taken by his own kin and given to his brother. He soon realized he had nothing left to lose.

With that, as the Lord of Storm’s End dismissed the Velaryon impatiently, the prince’s shadowy figure also disappeared in the hall as he watched Lucerys mounting his pathetic and minuscule dragon Arrax while the storm still raged on.

Soon, the monstrous Vhagar hovered over the young dragon. The lightning tearing through the black sky and roaring of thunder were music to Aemond Targaryen’s ears, as if the gods were in awe of this spectacle of terror. In the face of raw power commanded by the largest dragon of the world, neither Lucerys, Rhaenyra, Aegon, nor even the games of thrones stood a chance. Aemond was the second son who inherits nothing he doesn’t seize for himself. Addicted to the intoxicating scent of the lioness of Casterly Rock and the adrenaline rushing in his veins from being on top of the world, Aemond whispered to the green beast, “Ipradagon.”

Eat

Scarlet blurs flashed before him, followed by a haunting dragon squeal echoed before him with no one but him to bear witness to the gruesome bloodshed. While others might see flesh and dragon bones plummeting from the sky, Aemond saw a vision of the Conqueror’s Crown landing on his head. While his mother, the Dowager Queen, sought to suppress the war, Aemond stroked the anger bubbling in Rhaenyra. And what better way than slaying her favourite son?

War were precisely what he craved; for war breeds to fear, fear spawns to chaos, and chaos is a ladder.

As the Seven Kingdoms hesitated between the Blacks and the Greens, Aemond stood ready to flip the script.

All his life, he had been but a sword wielded at another’s will. At that moment, Aemond Targaryen became the master of his own terror, and the realm would watch a second son rise to rule the continent.

[tirsynni]

So for the longest time, I refused to think of the original Hyrule Warriors as canon. It was a fun little hack-and-slash side bit and I adore Link with his blue scarf, but I didn't actually add it to my mental timeline when it came to the LoZ games.

Then I made the mistake of thinking too much about the game and its implications on the overall timeline, especially the implications regarding the Spirit of the Hero. Stay with me on this. (Yes, it is once again time for me to put far too much thought into video games, because why not?)

Arguably, the Spirit of the Hero became entangled with everything due to Demise's Curse in Skyward Sword: "Those like you... Those who share the blood of the goddess and the spirit of the hero... They are eternally bound to this curse. An incarnation of my hatred shall ever follow your kind, dooming them to wander a blood-soaked sea of darkness for all time!" Thus the Cycle of Hatred is introduced.

In dissecting it a bit, it shows three permanent players: an incarnation of Demise's hatred, the Goddess's bloodline (note not Hylia herself, but her bloodline) and the spirit of the hero (note in contrast to the previous line, not the hero's bloodline, but the "spirit of the hero"). So we have an incarnation of a demon god's hate, a divine bloodline, and... some dude. Sorry, Link. You really got the short end of the stick here.

Obviously, he's not just "some dude," but he is a mortal tossed into an immortal war. Even as the Goddess's bloodline is mortal, they forever hold divinity within them, descended directly from divinity. Arguably, the Hero's Spirit holds some divinity itself through Hylia's blessing, arguably Farore's blessing, and playing emissary to multiple deities and powerful spirits through the games, but it relies on external sources instead of being inherent. The root of the Hero lies within the mortality of the Hero. That mortality probably provides a great deal of flexibility, as LoZ seems to follow along the popular concept that immortal beings are stuck to certain rules and mortals can go places and do things immortals can't. Biggest example is the Goddess Hylia needing a mortal Hero in the first place to fight Demise.

Okay, so where does Hyrule Warriors come into this? Because while the concept of the Spirit of the Hero comes up in multiple games, it's usually through inheritance, stepping into the role of the Hero, etc. When Cia comes into play, her target isn't the latest Hero: her target is the Spirit of the Hero itself. Not the concept. Not the implications of the role. The identity of the Spirit of the Hero. She didn't look at Link in HW and become obsessed with him: she became obsessed with him specifically because he possessed the Spirit of the Hero. It changes things a bit when looking at his character in the game.

First, there's the question of what awakens the Spirit of the Hero. In the other games, there's a great evil on the horizon -- the incarnation of Demise's hatred, which doesn't necessarily mean Demise or even Ganondorf but the awakening of an evil influenced somehow by Demise's hatred -- which leads to a Hero being born. Evil stirs, the Hero is born, Evil acts, the Hero awakens to their destiny. In the case of HW, though, the only reason Cia attacks that era is because there was a Hero present. So what sparked the birth of this Hero? If this Link wasn't born, then Cia would have targeted another Hero. Considering she was interested in the Spirit, not the person, I don't think age would have been a factor, so any of the other Heroes would be open targets. Cia didn't need to go after an awakened Hero, though. Instead, this specific Hero was born (looking remarkably like the Hero from the SS comic with his pretty scarf and such) and becomes Cia's target. So does more than the curse cause the birth of a Hero? If so, was this particular Link set up as a target? Or are the Heroes set up with specific destinies? Just Like OoT!Link is connected with Ganondorf and Majora, was this Link's soul somehow connected to Cia's? How does it work?

Which leads to the next issue: the challenges and pros inherent to mortality. In most cases, the Heroes have a choice in their destiny. Can they be pushed? Guilted? Strongly encouraged? Yes. However, in the games, one of the first things you do is choose to pick up the sword. You pick up the weapon. You start on your path. Link in almost every other scenario gets to go, "I want to save these people. I want to save the princess. I want to save Hyrule." In HW, while Link has the option to choose to fight or not, he would be targeted by Cia regardless because he was born with the Spirit of the Hero. He does choose to become a Knight and fight, though, which awakens the Triforce and puts him right in Cia's path. Pro to mortality: freedom of choice. HW-specific con: even with that freedom, being born with the Spirit put a bullseye on Link's back.

Another con of mortality, one presented in multiple games: the dangers of corruption. Link is a mortal, albeit a powerful mortal, who through his role as Hero regularly deals with divine objects. In most games, he deals with at least one piece of the Triforce and the Master Sword. The Triforce is not a symbol of good: it is a symbol of harmony: Power, Courage, and Wisdom in balance. If it had some sort of inherent morality, then someone like Demise reaching it wouldn't be such a big deal. Unfortunately, that's not the case. Link's Triforce is just insane power. Combine that with handling the powerhouse of the Master Sword, among all of the other things Link deals with, and you have a mortal who is dealing with one hell of a threat and burden. The Hero is repeatedly warned against falling to that darkness and has to fight against symbols of his darkness, ie, Dark or Shadow Link. This is a vulnerability most others won't have to deal with. He is a mortal struggling with the weight of immortal, powerful objects and needs to not lose himself to them.

Now combine that threat of corruption with the emphasis on the Spirit of the Hero which occurs in HW. With the other games, the threat is Link being corrupted. In HW, Cia's target is the Spirit of the Hero. Link's just the pretty package. If she succeeded, Link would be corrupted, but so would Cia's target: the Spirit of the Hero. There are a couple implications connected to that: what happens when you corrupt something as ancient and powerful as the Spirit of the Hero, something blessed by multiple spirits and deities and something literally older than Hyrule itself? Something which has the ability to turn the tide of battle against impossible odds? When no Hero arose once, the Goddesses responded by flooding the world. When Link slept(?) for a hundred years in BotW, no one, no matter their ability, was able to replace him. The Calamity remained unchallenged and untouched for that century, with even Zelda's powers limited to just holding the Calamity. That's a lot of power to corrupt... and that can also be one hell of a boon to Ganondorf. If not just Link but the Spirit was corrupted, how would that affect the Cycle of Hatred? Cia would have her obsession and the Spirit could not be incarnated into a new Hero to fight against Ganondorf. One hell of a win there... literally.

WW proved that if it came right down to it, a Hero could forcibly step up by fulfilling their own Hero's Journey. After all, even the initial Hero had to come from somewhere. But that would be an insane blow against Hyrule and the Royal Family. That would also be an insane amount of power available to Ganondorf. No opposition and all of the power inherent in a corrupted Spirit of the Hero. Oof.

If you view HW as canon with its focus on the Spirit of the Hero over the Hero himself, it does lead to some interesting questions regarding the role played by the Spirit, what happens if something happens to the Spirit, and the the lines between the Spirit and the Hero himself.

...hey, The Legend of Zelda and Philosophy book, why don't you focus on these questions instead of the stupid ones you went over? Bastards.

[agoddamn]

IMO...

The MadaTobi vibe is "destiny took a hard left." Madara and Tobirama are not the fated pair set up by the story and an eon of reincarnation. Hashirama is the one who's Madara's equal in battle, he's Madara's meaningful friend, Madara is his man of destiny. Hashirama and Madara are mutually obsessed. Their relationship is set up as a Huge Thing.

So MadaTobi is at its best leaning into that narrative asymmetry, I think. The curious contradictions. The feeling of "this wasn't meant to happen." They were clearly never meant to really interact in a narrative sense, so you wonder--what if they did get to talk?

They've got those interesting little bits where they espouse ideas that are similar, they have a massive unresolved beef, they have a strange binary star kind of orbit where they're linked in each other's gravity well without an immediate connection. Plenty to build on there. You can even get cute with some (likely unintended) thematic parallels like fire/water, red/blue, black/white.

TobiIzu is more out-of-the-box prepped for you by the narrative (last younger brothers, both left behind by big bro, close in strength, doomed to end in violence), but I think it's actually harder to nail down. Maybe because we have so little canon info on Izuna? And while Madara and Tobirama got to hiss and spit at each other on-page like bitter divorcees Izuna and Tobirama only interact in battle. They can easily fall into a pair-the-spares sitch; you're pairing up Hashirama and Madara so you may as well pair off the other brothers while you're at it.

But Tobirama and Izuna...they're parallels, but they're tainted parallels. Everything that makes the Hashirama-Madara relationship fairytale makes the Tobirama-Izuna relationship tragic. The destiny narrative dooms them to be tools of the story--dooms Tobirama to be Hashirama's bloodied right hand and Izuna to be Madara's tragic backstory.

Because of that I feel like the relationship only truly works when Hashirama and Madara aren't together. Narratively, Tobirama and Izuna need to be in a story where they're finally the important ones. Their relationship working is inextricably tied with the idea of them making selfish choices over their brothers, I think--both are improbable and need to be carefully set up.

They are otherwise bound to live--narratively and literally--in service of their brothers. The traditional supporting character relationship is more like codependency when looked at with a more realistic lens, and Tobirama and Izuna are prime examples of that. They need to be hewn away from their fraternal supports in order to develop something new. They cannot be retreading the ground of Hashirama and Madara.

(Personally I think some tbiz goes too far in the fanon 'poor little meow meow Tobirama' direction...although, I have to admit that in a world where Izuna somehow fell in love with Tobirama, I think that his perspective on Tobirama would definitely be "my poor little meow meow" lmao that sort of disproportionate "everyone is bullying MY poor woobie" kinda possessive protectiveness)

Without a Softness Showing is my gold standard for Tobirama and Izuna interaction. Blew my tits clean off and it's not even romantic.

(This post brought to you by a lengthy mental ramble of mine where I bemoaned the lack of porn where twink Izuna mating presses 6-ft Tobirama and lamented that I don't have the chops to pull it off myself.)

(Anyway, someone ought to write that.)

[imaginmatrix]

Prompt: Moonlight

I have no clue where the short that this one word prompt inspired came from, but I hope you enjoy

Percy’s mother used to say there was magic in the light of the moon. She said the silver rays could carry any number of impossible things from the stars to the earth; strange beings and mysterious items and concepts like fate and destiny would ride those gossamer bands like a tidal wave to shift the mundane to wondrous.

And then, of course, Percy got older and learned that the moon merely reflected the light of the sun, and was little more than a barren rock doomed to encircle the earth however gravity dictated until the day an asteroid collided a bit too hard and freed it to the lonely emptiness of space. He wasn’t necessarily a practical guy who dismissed fairytales and children’s stories, but he was a cynic, and his mother’s stories lost much of their shine in the wake of losing her.

She used to joke she might choose to become the moon when she died, so she could watch Percy grow and live even after her story was over. But they both assumed they’d have more time before that happened.

These days, the moon was just a rock, the stars just burning balls of gas, and magic was a lie of his childhood.

“Those things kill, you know.”

Percy’s dark brows raised, his face turning to the blonde girl who criticized his life choices before even having the decency to introduce herself. The roof party behind them was abuzz with life; string lights gave a hazy glow to the young adults lounging on sofas and sipping bottles of some sort of craft beer that tasted like shit but all the hipsters pretended was a divine elixir of craftsmanship.

He was on the outskirts, leaning on the stone wall of the roof, puffing smoke from his cig into the dark and staring at city lights.

And now she was too.

He huffed a laugh through his nose, shaking his head and tugging the cigarette from between his lips, “Pretty sure that’s common knowledge at this point.”

“And yet here you are, turning your lungs to raisins anyway.”

Percy was both annoyed and intrigued, almost impressed at her audacity. He didn’t care much for being scolded; he was an adult. He could make whatever bad decisions he wanted.

But this girl was direct. Plenty of people hated cigarettes, but most would wrinkle their nose and move away, or cough dramatically to make a point without words, or mutter to their friends about the disgusting habit. Not the girl beside him. She walked right up and pointed out the obvious, said what most wouldn’t dare say to a stranger.

Percy could admire that.

“Well?” The girl asked expectantly, as if Percy was supposed to answer a question that was never actually voiced.

“Well what?” He stubbed out the cigarette, leaning away from the girl to toss what was left into the bin nearby.

“Why do you smoke.” She said, as if it were obvious.

Percy shrugged, “I don’t know.”

But he did know.

His mother never smoked a day in her life. Yet cancer made its home in her lungs anyway. So maybe it was to spite the universe for that, or maybe it was to dare it to take him out the same way. Maybe it was just self flagellation for being here when she wasn’t. There was nothing to blame himself for, nothing he could have done to stop her from getting sick, but some sort of guilt gnawed through his chest anyway.

So he dampened that guilt by putting chemicals in his body.

Or maybe he was just an idiot who smoked because he tried it once and got hooked, like every other person who relied on the stuff to get through the day.

“Well you should stop.”

Another incredulous laugh rasped from Percy’s throat, “Never heard that one before.” He finally turned to face the girl properly.

And then something that was neither smoke nor guilt filled his chest.

She was pretty, but Percy had seen pretty before. This was different. This was…

Intense.

There was something in her expression that felt a thousand years old; she was clearly around his age, but her gaze had seen the rise and fall of empires, revolutions, tragedies, and everything that filled the eons between.

But she was just a girl, and Percy was a bad poet, and he swallowed a sudden bitter taste in his mouth as he found words to combat the way she seemed to see right through him.

“Do you usually berate people you’ve just met, or am I special?”

She looked thoughtful, “A bit of both.”

“Yeah?” Percy wished he wasn’t a smoker, just so it would be easier to catch his breath around this girl, “What makes me special, then?”

“You’re in my spot.” She turned back to the city, those eyes shifting from his face and her profile caught the light in a near halo. The sensation of her focus leaving him had Percy desperate to hold it again.

“So you live here?” He leaned beside her, back to the wall so he could better see the slope of her nose and the curve of her lips.

A nod, “It’s my roommate’s party.”

Now an answering brow raise, “I thought it was a housewarming thing?”

“It is.”

“So wouldn’t this technically be your party too?”

Another shrug, but the continued conversation saw that her head turned back to him and Percy felt himself drown in the impossible gravity of her attention once more. “I’m not really a party person.”

“Me neither.” At her pointed look that said ‘but you’re at this one?’ he clarified, “I was dragged along.”

This answer was satisfactory, “You’re Percy then.”

Hearing his name from the lips of a stranger, particularly this stranger, was startling. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Because you’re the only person here I don’t recognize, and Charles said you were coming.”

“Right.” A beat. “And you’re…?”

“Annabeth.”

It wasn’t a name Percy had ever heard before, but as soon as she said it, it became one he knew he’d never forget.

Annabeth’s gaze turned out and up again. A silence settled over them.

Percy was frantically searching for something to say, a question, a statement, anything to keep the conversation going, when Annabeth spoke again; “You can’t see the stars.”

It took a moment for his brain to catch up, “…What?”

“Light pollution.” Annabeth nodded to the city, “It hides the stars.”

Percy glanced up, the sky dark and empty while something old and primal tugged at his gut and whispered that it shouldn’t be. “You can see a fair amount in Montauk.”

“I’ve never been.”

“I’ll take you some time.” It slipped out before Percy could consider the fact that inviting a girl he just met to drive outside the city with him to look at stars was weird, but to his relief she smiled.

“I’d like that.” Annabeth fixed him with her gaze once more. And once more it was crushing, and Percy was close enough now to make out the color of her eyes.

Some people might have called them gray, but a word so colorless and boring couldn’t come close to what they were. Silver was the closest, Percy decided. Silver and seeing every little hope, fear, desire, and secret Percy had buried deep down, as if he was laid bare without clothes or even a physical form to hide in.

Percy cleared his throat, “At least you can still see the moon.”

Annabeth didn’t look back to the sky when she said “Not tonight. It’s a new moon.”

Could have fooled Percy, the silver glow of Annabeth’s irises a fine replacement. Even better, as she carried two moons in her eyes, rather than just the one that hung in the sky.

“Ah. Well. Tomorrow then.”

“Mmm.”

Silence again. God. The silence hurt— not a sharp pain, but a dull ache, like the moment between comfort and burning when one held their breath for too long.

And he’d known the girl for less than ten minutes.

But in that time, he had decided to quit smoking, take her to see the stars in Montauk, and let her occupy every corner of his mind for as long as she deigned to stay for.

The numbness that plagued every waking moment for the past 3 years ebbed.

“Do you—“

“I think—“

They spoke at the same time. Annabeth laughed breathlessly, complimenting Percy’s own nervous chuckle.

“You first.” Percy said.

“No, no, you go.”

“I insist.”

Annabeth scrunched up her nose, making freckles Percy hadn’t noticed sharpen. “I think,” she started again, “that I’d like to go inside.”

Percy’s heart sunk, “Oh, uh, yeah, it’s kind of cold.”

Annabeth didn’t move, instead staring at him in a way that had him squirming, thinking there was something he should be doing that he wasn’t.

“…Are we going in, then?”

Percy jolted at the realization that he was invited. “Y-yeah!” He shoved his hands into his pockets, pushing off the wall.

Annabeth rolled her eyes, tucking a curly lock behind her ear as they walked back to the exit. Percy wondered what it would be like to do that, to reach out and brush errant locks from her face.

They stopped at the door to the stairs, and for the first time since they’d met, Annabeth seemed hesitant.

“I don’t… do this often.”

Percy furrowed his brow, “Do what?”

“Invite guys I just met to my bedroom.”

Oh.

His brain short circuited— inside meant inside, bedroom meant bedroom, she’d said inside, she’d meant bedroom, and he…

Holy shit.

Percy licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry and throat working to form a sound, any sound.

“R-right. Yeah. Yeah yeah yeah, me neither— I mean I have, but I don’t usually, it’s not like, a common thing, it’s not a normal weekend occurrence, I don’t go around picking up girls for one night stands and if I did I wouldn’t like, uh, leave it as a one night stand, I mean at least not these days—“ He bit his tongue to make himself shut up, because dear god that was way too much in response to a simple statement.

He’d made poor choices right after his mom died. Percy had never been one for casual: not casual sex, nor casual dating. He wasn’t that guy. He didn’t generally feel attraction unless he knew someone first, gotten to know them, fall in love with them.

But after his only family had died, he grew desperate to feel anything. Even self-loathing.

This… wasn’t that.

Maybe it was the fact that this girl, Annabeth, had no qualms about shaming him for a bad habit. Maybe he was just cold. Maybe it was the loneliness of a party he couldn’t find the strength to be a part of, to try and put on a smile and make friends and drink shitty beer and pretend everything was fine.

Maybe it was the moonlight in Annabeth’s eyes.

Whatever the reason, Percy couldn’t help but want this. Not in the self-destructive way of his past that left him feeling cold and empty. It was something different, it was…

He wasn’t sure.

Annabeth was smiling though, thankfully amused by his rambling rather than weirded out, and she reached a hand to lace their fingers together. “I’ll show you my record collection.” Her eyes drifted up and down Percy’s body in the least subtle way possible. “You look like a guy who likes music.”

Percy’s chuckle was strained, but his shoulders relaxed, “I’ve been known to sometimes enjoy sounds, yeah.”

Annabeth’s laugh made his skin tingle.

Her hand was warm and soft and fit perfectly against his calloused one.

Her eyes shone like the moon his mother loved so much did; they reflected the light in a way that Percy swore defied physics, holding all the things his mother promised moonlight would. Adventure. Magic. Mystery.

A promise of something more.

And as Annabeth blushed and ducked her head when Percy held the door open for her

as she led him down the concrete stairwell to a new apartment and room with lights so warm and comforting, they put those on the roof to shame

as they sat on the floor and looked at records and picked out their favorite songs

as Moon River played on the turntable and Percy met those eyes that held not just the moon, but the stars and sun and planets and entire galaxies

as he reached for her, tucking those blonde curls behind her ear like he’d been itching to, watching her lashes flutter and her breath catch and her cheeks flush with color and her eyes drop to his lips and back up

as they both leaned in

Percy thought that maybe, just maybe

his mom was right about the moon.

[impawsiblecat]

100 Days of Deathduo

Day 8- Breath of the Wild au

This one is a bit shorter! Mostly just setting up a few things, highlighting the differences between this au and the backstory of botw <3 I still like it though and botw is one of my favorites

    Icee does not like their knight. They feel bad about it, terrible, in fact, but the knight is just there, constantly, a reminder that Icee’s life is different now, is not going how it’s supposed to go. She stands, guarding the door to Icee’s room, the room in the castle that Icee now lives in. Apparently, being announced as a Prophet who is destined to save the world does that. And yet, despite apparently being the one chosen to hold Sun God’s power, Icee just feels normal.

    They don’t have powers. They are convinced its a scam. And yet, Icee is being signed up to go on spiritual journeys and meditate for hours on end. They are given a room in a castle, and books on the previous chosen of the Sun God, and even the decorations are chosen carefully, tapestries showing old battles with a glowing light in the center and a rug in the shape of the triforce on the floor.

    The worst part is that Icee is trying. Icee has been trying so hard the past few months to get even the slightest spark, the smallest amount of holy power running through their veins, a hope for the world. They are trying harder than they ever have before, praying from dawn until dusk, meals spent poring over dusty books. And yet, it is still not enough.

    And then in comes the knight, who had just been discovered. The rumours say that she stumbled across the sacred forest and was led through by destiny. They say she pulled the sword out with extreme ease. They say that she had never touched a weapon before the forest, and yet now she was beating even the most experienced and powerful of knights. If only Icee’s destiny was that easy. They don’t know if the rumours are true. They haven’t asked.

    There’s something coming on the horizon, and everyone knows it, can sense it in the air. The legends say that the Prophet and the Knight need to work together to defeat it. The legends also seem to have lied about Icee’s own abilities. They aren’t even a prophet. Just a person, taken from home and expected to awaken the powers of an ancient being. 

    Icee misses so many things. She misses the ocean by her little seaside village, the seafood paella made by the old lady two huts down, and she misses being dunked into the water by her brother, or collecting seashells with her sister. And yet she knows, she can’t go back. She has a destiny to fulfill. There won’t be any of that if she doesn’t manage to do what she is supposed to do.

    Icee has to meet with the king again soon. They have to give a progress report that will be the same as all of the other ones, and the king will be upset, and they will have to look into the eyes of a man trying to do the best he can for his kingdom and family and say that they are not yet good enough. And the king will have no choice but to accept it, even as the looming doom draws closer. In response, Icee will try even harder, even though it already feels like they are at their limit.

    Icee sighs, and looks at the knight outside their door, the knight who had it so easy. The knight doesn’t look back at her, just stares straight ahead, silent, ready to protect them from any threats. Because Icee wasn’t strong enough to protect themself, not strong enough to do anything. It is terrible, awful, and they selfishly wish it was someone else chosen for this duty. They curse themself for the thought immediately after.

    She turns away, scowling at the knight, and realizes the sun is about to setting. She sits down on the floor, in the middle of her tri-force rug, and start to settle into the incantations taught. She tries to put all of her belief and hope into the prayers, all of her effort, in hopes that today will be the day she fulfills the duty that she is supposed to.

    Nothing happens. It never does. She keeps praying anyways, in hopes that soon, it will work.

[carlandrea]

When you mention the lay’s themes and doom, thinking about it is so wild. For as much as Berin and Luthien’s relationship involve liberation they’re still trapped in fate. There were so many independent foretellings related to them or their actions. Just some of the people having them were Melian, Thingol, Idril and Tuor. In some places free will was lessened or the available options were limited. From the silm after Beren thinks to remove the other Silmarils, Angrist snapped because the outcome of his actions would've gone against the Silmaril's fate. To the Lay, if taken more literally, a spell had fell on Luthien when first meeting Beren. The Silmaril being set in the Nauglamir may have allowed its safe handling and prevent backlash from the hollowing for Dior and Elwing. All these bits and pieces add up to allow Earendil in Vingilot.

the leithian literally makes me so insane because it's like. obviously thematically it's the escape from bondage. That's what leithian means! That's why the dungeons and the treehouse and then Luthien's eventual escape from the fate of the elves, from the chains tying her to Arda itself (elves are ghosts) and like.

but.

but there's Beren's immediate enchantment when he meets her, there's the language around Luthien being snared when he meets her eyes, there's beren immediately sinking to the ground catatonic when she leaves him after their first kiss because he's so immediately tied to her that there's nothing else and there's fate! and doom! and destiny!

And there is Eärendil, who was never going to be anything other than The Mariner, who's like. an offering. A sacrifice to the valar in penance to a doom set centuries before he was born—taking the silmaril and a swan ship home. Which he could only do because Beren and Luthien and the silmaril and

but ALSO is eärendil not also an escape from bondage? Eärendil, who breaks and ends the Doom of Mandos?

I don't have a conclusion to this. just like. Those two did something to the doom of the entire world. and it did something to them. and maybe broke them a little

[nocturnalfandomartist]

♥️ Zelink Sketch + Headcanon Dump ♥️

(Part 1)

(LONG POST WARNING)

Yes. I know I have already posted something for Valentine's Day. No one can stop me. So here's some sloppy sketches!

BoTW/ToTK Zelink is one of my favorite versions of the ship. They and SS Zelink are the most likely to have gotten together after the story, and they just have been through so much together! Not to mention a certain lyric in Kass's song regarding Zelda's power... Here are some little headcanons I have for them. :)

• Considering the state of Hyrule Castle, Link has let Zelda stay in his home in Hateno Village. She reveals it was his house to begin with, which likely resulted in a lot of frustrated rambling from Link that he had to buy his own house back...

• Zelda has frequent night terrors that she is still with the Calamity, holding it back as she replays the deaths of her loved ones in the back of her mind. When this occurs, Link usually is awake anyway and goes to comfort her. Although he has his memories returned, sometimes he finds it difficult to find the right words since he feels like a different person entirely.

• Despite Link's outward change in demeanor and the worry it initially would bring to her, Zelda realizes he's still the same Link that died in her arms. The only difference now is he no longer has such a heavy burden on his shoulders. And with that being the case, she's quite happy for him.

• Zelda spent a lot of time thinking about what the Deku Tree told her when she returned the Master Sword to its pedestal. Perhaps she's waiting for the right time to say what was on her mind... Or perhaps she already has?

• Zelda is a bit too... Experimental with cooking elixirs. Link encourages this, even if it makes him die a little inside whenever she makes dubious food instead. He'll eat it anyway.

The duo that accidentally got themselves for eternity. Whether they realize it or not, they doomed themselves to always meet again regardless of how they may part. This would probably make them overjoyed, though, if it weren't for all the suffering their new destinies may come with. Some more headcanons:

• Link likes to carve little wooden statuettes for Zelda on special occasions, and she likes to sew things for him. Perhaps she's made him a crimson cloak like the Chosen Hero in the manga by Akira Himekawa?

• Zelda may sometimes have trouble keeping a grasp on herself with suddenly having all of Hylia's lifetime in the depths of her memories. Link never says it directly, but he takes every action to remind her that she's still their Zelda.

• Link confessed his love to Zelda on the statue after they decided to remain in the surface, using a similar buildup that she did while they were riding on their loftwings at the beginning of SS.

• All of the Links and Zeldas after them are reincarnated forms of them in some way. This headcanon is also why I ship these two at every given opportunity. They will always reunite to save Hyrule, no matter what- but they will also reunite to find each other once again.

• Groose accidentally third-wheels a lot but they just allow it and let him hang around. They're all buddies, after all.

• Sometimes, they'll just sit outside and Link will listen to Zelda sing. Occasionally, he'll borrow her harp and play along with her song.

I know they aren't canon in the Child Timeline, but I can't help but love OoT Zelink. I like to imagine that somewhere in the LoZ universe, there's a timeline where Link refuses to be sent back in time and rather chooses to help restore Hyrule without leaving the one he saved behind. Usually, when I draw OoT Zelink, it's under this context. HCs:

• Link actually had a minor crush on Zelda during the events of OoT. They were just little kids, after all, so of course he found himself wanting to impress the princess when they met.

• After losing her own father to Ganondorf, Zelda is quick to comfort Link when he finally confides in her that the Deku Tree was like a father to him and the Kokiri before he withered. Some days, it is easy to think about what they lost and feel remorseful. But even so, they know they must carry on in hopes that the future for those after them is a brighter one.

• Link was going to return the Ocarina of Time, but Zelda let him keep it. Some days, when they aren't busy with restoration efforts, they'll play a duet. Zelda has even taught him some more songs.

• Zelda will occasionally teach Link the combat that was taught to her by Impa, usually techniques unique to the Sheikah Tribe. He finds himself struggling to be as agile, but he's trying. He thinks her skill is pretty admirable, at least.

• Neither is exactly talkative, but they aren't silent either. They balance each other out well in that way.

The children!!! Telink is adorable in my opinion, even if the pair may not be as outwardly affectionate as some of their counterparts. These little pirates are also super fun to draw! I already have a ton of headcanons with these two mentioned in a previous post, but here are some others:

• After the events of Phantom Hourglass, Link is a bit more cautious with going to explore random stuff they find. He respects Tetra's leadership, but he doesn't want to get her hurt (or turned to stone) again.

• Tetra tends to pick on Link, but every so often will soften up. Link hardly ever notices the shift, as this is just how the two are. They bug each other, sure, but they're the other's closest friend and trust each other more than anything.

• Link has convinced Tetra to stop stealing from innocent people, since it's a bad influence on Aryll when she's around. Tetra sort of made fun of him for it, at first, poking at him for not wanting to upset his grandma. However, she... Went with it, anyway, since he sort of had a point. They only steal from their enemies now!

• They have an ongoing arm-wrestling competition and rematches will start spontaneously and without warning. The victor changes so often that the rest of the crew has started betting on who will win at a given time.

• Tetra and the crew increasingly visits Outset Island more and more because they all think Link's grandma is really nice and they're all deprived of parental figures. This is nice and all, but every time they leave they find out Tetra has helped Aryll sneak into the ship (at Aryll's request) and they have to turn back around so nobody gets worried that she vanished. Tetra doesn't intend for Aryll to stick around, she just finds it funny.

Another personal favorite of mine, Spirit Tracks! These two are hard NOT to ship, with how much you can see them bonding over the course of the game. And the fact Link blushes almost every time she makes contact with him.

• These two are one of those pairs who very clearly have mutual feelings for each other, but no one can ever tell if they're actually together or even aware of these feelings.

• Link, while conducting, will occasionally drift off into daydreams about the next time him and Zelda will get to go on their own little adventure (although preferably not one with the world at stake this time). Alfonzo usually has to make him snap out of it and pay attention to the railroad.

• They like to make time to see each other, but if they can't in a given week for any reason they'll send letters to one another. Link's a little less literate than Zelda, but she manages to read his handwriting decently enough.

• Zelda is really affectionate. She's quick to high-fives, hugs, that sort of thing. Link doesn't mind, but he gets as pink as a rose quite often. Everyone finds him to be rather see-through.

• At Zelda's request, Link has begun teaching her to properly use a sword like she did as a Phantom.

Reblogging is fine, but please don't post this anywhere else without linking the original post. Thanks!

[thewizardprincessau]

The Lover pauses, leaning on the curtain to stare at the princess in bemusement. “..Pardon?”

“Huh?” The princess seems confused at their own earlier statement and shakes their head as if trying to retract it. “What did I say? Ah, I didn’t mean to.. I mean, I meant it, but not like that–?! Er..” They draw their legs closer to themself and place a hand on their face in shame.

“You just..” they gesticulate awkwardly, gazing at the town so far below them. “...look.. Really happy. Talking about him, your.. Life. Together..” They let out a strained laugh as they gesture outwards with their hands. “Then– Marriage? Me? Hah, that’s… well, you did it, right? Against all odds. And– congratulations, by the way. Have I said that yet? It’s just.. ahh, you’re not me, so.. Well, you are.. um…”

The Lover lets out a small hum listening to the poor princess spiral into their own thoughts. “You’re only 24, darling. It isn’t impossible. A lot can happen in six years, you know.”

The princess brings their hands down to wring them together absentmindedly, not sure how to retort that. “I.. suppose that’s true…”

The two sit together in heavy silence. The Lover watches as the princess fidgets with their scarred hands, and they think about what made them so similar that The Lover couldn’t help but feel their heart ache for the young royal. Here they were, a dancer and a princess both doomed to eternal hunger. They’ve lived their lives under public scrutiny, flowing through society with expertly crafted words and smiles. But while they themself never lost hope for love, the princess seems to already be resigned to their loveless fate. Something about that frustrates The Lover, but they don’t let it show.

But who could blame the princess, really? When you know destiny has fated you with someone across worlds, how could you ever love another? Who could say that the two will even meet in this life? Will they just have to watch this poor royal force themself into a union they don’t want? To appease this world that’s done nothing but hurt them? Perhaps that was what they were trying to communicate earlier. What a damning predicament. As romantic as the premise of having a “soulmate” is, being hyper-aware of the fact is extremely soul-crushing. And not knowing where they are, or if you'll ever even cross paths.. no, it pains them too much to think about.

The princess pipes up again, soft enough that The Lover would have missed it if they weren’t staring at their pitiful solemn face. “It’d just be nice to, to.. To look like you. One day. Maybe.”

The Lover directs their gaze to the kingdom below them. Little lights pour out of little houses, sheltering the little people the princess has devoted their life to. They don’t quite understand their altruism; of course, it is their responsibility to care for their subjects, but to this extent? To permanently scar the only body they have, to sacrifice their happiness for a world that doesn’t care? There’s a twitch in their heart. A strange melancholic understanding that gnaws at their chest, leaving a gaping nothing and everything in its place.

Be selfish, just this once, they want to beg. But they sigh instead.

“You live in the reality you choose to create, princess.”

“The one I choose to create..” 

That seems to have struck a chord with them. Their face lights up a bit as they start to sit with better posture, the way they’re about to open their mouth indicating another flood of excited rambles and ideas to come. The Lover exhales a breath through their nose, endeared by how easily the princess jumps from one thought to another. 

“Do you think I’ll ever meet him?”

“I hope so.”

“Ooh, what if he’s actually a noble, too! That would be perfect, huh?”

“It would be.”

“What do you think he’ll be like? Nice, sweet..”

The Lover fidgets with their locket. “He always is.”

“Always? Really?” The princess smiles brightly, pressing a hand to their chest. “Then I’ll be even sweeter! To sweep him off his feet! Do you think he’ll like that?”

“Being swept off your feet by a princess would be anyone’s dream, dear. Noble or not.”

“Ahh, that’s true, isn’t it…” A bashfulness overcomes the princess’ face as they rest some fingers on their cheek, getting lost in their own daydreams. The Lover can’t help the gentle smile that spreads across their face seeing the princess’ mood improve. They’ve had strange bouts of sadness and doubt before, but The Lover was never the one around to deal with those. It felt strangely comforting to have been the one to catch them tonight. They don’t mean to degrade the other inhabitants of the princess’ mind, but they really are the most well-equipped to be able to handle this topic. They’re dressed like this for a reason, right?

They’re snapped out of their thoughts when they see the princess smiling at them silently. Did they start making some kind of embarrassing face? How humiliating.. They’re about to avoid their gaze when they notice just how the princess is staring at them. They’re still lost in their own head, taking in the appearance of this alternate version of themself in full. Admiring the little details of their gown, watching the way their veil flows in the evening wind, trying to catch a glimpse of the ring on The Lover’s obscured hand. Their earlier smile fades into a more neutral, contemplative expression. There was a lot going on in their head, The Lover could tell. They’re used to dealing with and easing a busy mind; they married one, after all. But what do you do when the mind is so much like your own?

The Lover reaches their left hand out to them, and the princess takes it without thought. They can feel every nick and scar on the royal’s hand, the same roughness in their palms meeting. The princess looks to be deep in thought, watching their joined hands without making a single sound as one of their fingers rests on the gold ring on The Lover’s finger. They slowly trace over its smallest of details with a somber, yearning, yet hopeful look in their eyes. Without uttering a single word, The Lover understands the princess.

Breaking from the contact, The Lover brings another hand up to slide the ring off their finger, placing it in the princess’ still open palm. They gaze up at them, caring eyes meeting confused ones. They gently push the royal’s fingers inward, securing the jewelry in their closed hand. They can feel the princess tightening their grip on it ever so slightly as The Lover encases their hand in both of theirs delicately. The words that fall out of their mouth do so without second thought, but they mean every word of it.

“Please.. Never give up on your own happiness, too.”

And the princess wakes up alone, in bed, and with a curled fist.

[exoid-the-locomotive-monarch]

I think since today’s the day, I should get off my chest what I think about Homestuck and the epilogues: the former is good and the latter is like an uncooked steak covered with diahhrea.

To elaborate, Homestuck is a cake that used too much baking soda and cooked in the oven for too short, its the same size as a cake but the outside is too airy and the inside is mushy and liquid batter, disgusting.

But there’s this middle part, between the layers that’s delicious as all hell, it uses grandma’s secret recipe and the chef was running a rush order, it’s a miracle he used the perfect ratio of egg to sugar to flour and milk, you can’t deny most chefs wish they could prepare a cake this good, and when one ingredient is off and it was underbaked, many critics would absolutely drop a solid 9 to a 5/10. It’s still good in my heart.

Now leaving the metaphors, I love this comic to an autistic degree. Its art direction and narration perfectly mix the feel of a strange adventure game published by some studio pushing the boundaries but had no budget so they end up reusing assets from stock images for most of its run, and for the second half abandoned jpgs for minimalist bean shaped heroes.

It has multiple flash animations, interactive walkarounds, and plenty of callbacks and reference to its own story beats and panels, it’s really good and even the secondary characters have a lot of dimension to them! The big issue was the pacing, and by god did Act 5 Act 2 cone out the miracle it did, balancing troll to human conversation perfectly, never abandoning the kids, and leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for the mess the trolls were about to make for themselves.

I even like act 6. Yeah I said it. Caliborn is funny, Calliope is eh, Roxy is the obvious character with the most going for her, Dirk has a good arc about his own struggles, but between him and the alpha kids, not so much. Jake had an arc for him to realize who he can be and his linits and how he should stand up for himself, and Jane was learning to trust her friends while being able to sleuth out manipulation or bad actors. Some of these words are in past tense because Hussie was now ping ponging to the boring 3 years where the kids are separated by dream bubbles and a long yard, almost never interacting with each other’s side of the 3 year journey (minus one DISTACTION by Rose and John hammering Bec’s head in with COOL NEW BREATH POWERS)

The pacing was a whole lot and openbound was a waste of time for 10 characters the fans could play with as dolls, but Act 6 Act 6 united both alpha and beta parties to actually do stuff.

But Hussie was also developing a (STILL UNFINISHED) adventure game(s) for his two new kidsonas that were going to give Alternia more breathing room and two new kidsonas an adventure to expand on the lore of Beta earth Roxy, Jake Harley, and a dead flighty broad.

After delaying when the comic should have ended by one and a half years, Hussie says “fuck it” and drops an awesome flash where everyone fucking dies. I was sad a little bit but remembered the comic had to end with the good guys winning so I just slogged another 500 pages watching a cool concept unfold: alter the timeline to unfuck the doomed timeline and fix the time paradox that would cause Lord English to not exist. Cool yeah?

The problem was after undoing 2000 pages of characterization Hussie needs to redo those 2000 pages and give characters worthwhile new arcs to solve, make everything both hunky dory on our way to the finish line but also start a new problem from railroading the characters into this new chance to win the game, and are clearly still coping or ignoring their other timeline’s struggles.

The best Hussie could do was 750 pages.

Build the new universe, kill the bad guys, save the troll race, finish Dave, Dirk, and Roxy’s character arc’s, we’ll finish the rest in a new timeline, the epilogues stuff. Drop in some vague shit at the last minute like “Ultimate Selves” “Aspect design and destiny” and some lip service to how these aren’t the same kids John knew, the look like them but they’re ever so different.

Then for like 6 months that was it, then the credits explained what happened to them and where they are now, and what’s unfinished.

Bonus updates we see a human cosplay space fish horns Hitler, a troll cosplay an immortal time demon hellbent on wrecking the corpse of every Universe he is aware of, and a carapacian cosplay a teleporting radiant dog demon that killed 3 parents. This was for Halloween.

Jane gets kidnapped by the goons you loved back when the comic only had 4 kids 3 adults a dog, some 4 chess friends, Jack, the midnight crew and the felt, and then she mind controls Jack and says she is going to get political.

Also the woobified side characters Wayward Vagabond and Oeregrine Me dicant are no longer “the deterrent of the original bad guy” and “silly marketable plush character who was once a veteran of the bloodiest massacre in Sburban history” they’re dead.

So what an ending huh, that was overwhelming, also unfinished. That epilogue should really tie in loose ends and end the narrative stakes of a work of fiction to a calm and satisfying pace like a traditional narrative does, boy oh boy can’t wait to expect that from the postmodern work of Homestuck hahahahahahahaha.

[kanohivolitakk]

Random thought I had: While most members of the Brotherhood of Makuta can be seen to have behaviors that are the antithesis to the Three Virtues (much like pretty much all the villains that were actual characters rather than mooks), I feel an argument could be made that some of them are perversions of the Three Virtues, and act as example of the negative effects clinging extremely to a virtue can have.

Unity is by far the trickiest since like many Bionicle villains most of the BoM dont really get along with each other and in fact are at each others throats, but I feel that Gorast and/or Antroz is the most fitting. Both of them are fanatically loyal to Teridax and are devoted to his cause. Their loyality towards Teridax ends being a major flaw however, as they didnt see how their leader was just using them and would discard them til it was little bit too late. Gorast is arguably the better fit since she is more defined by her loyalty towards Teridax and her blind loyalty directly led to her death as she refused to listen to Krika or Icarax warning her about Teridax, instead believing in Teridax and the Plan til the very end. That said either are good fits in my opinion.

While he isnt technically a Brotherhood member anymore, Miserix definitely fits the best as pervesion of Duty. I have spoken about this before, but I believe Miserix can be read as being largely defined by his loyality towards his duty as a protector of the Matoran Universe. To Miserix, duty isnt just his purpose in life bit rather his whole identity, it's everything he stands for, everything he is. So, when Teridax strips him of his duty, Miserix loses all his sense of self and personhod. He was so tied to his duty, he became nothing. Is it wonder the guy snapped and became a ragefilled murdeous monster by the time we see him in the actual story? But not only that, it could be argued that Miserixs fanatical devotion to his duty was his downfall as I wouldn't be surprised if thats a big reason Teridax wanted to overthrow him in the first place. Sure, Teridax was a powerhungry controlfreak with a god complex and desire for total domination of the MU, but I wouldn't be surprised if part of the reason for his coup had to do with his disatisfaction in how Miserix ruled things. I also wouldn't be surprised if Miserix one tracked way of viewing duty affected in how he ruled the Brotherhood, especially when considering what the canon tells us about his rule. So yeah, in more ways than one, Miserixs devotion to his duty led to why he became what he became.

Lastly, Krika can be read as the pervesion of Destiny. Krika is a fatalist, who believes that he is doomed to be evil because of his nature as a Makuta. While Krika does rebel against Teridax and the Plan to an extent, he never tries to change his own Destiny. Instead, Krika has accepted his lot in life: sure he laments it but ultimately he doesnt do anything to change it. Krika believes his role and purpose in the universe is set in stone, and thus doesnt do anything to revolt it. Interestingly enough, Krikas last act of warning Gorast is a act of defying his destiny as he actively tries to warn his kin of their death. Though in a cruel twist of fate, when Krika tried to defy destiny and be a good person, he faced his own death. Its as ironic as it is poetic.

All in all I find these three (technically four) characters representing the logical extreme of the Three Virtues really fascinating. It makes Bionicles moral framework much more complex, as it shows that its virtues aren't automatically good, and in fact can lead to distrasrous results if acted to extreme. All these characters ultimately fall because of how extreme they are with the virtue associated them:Gorast and Antroz fanatical loyalty to Teridax is what leads to them being betrayed him without even realizing, Miserixs devotion to his duty is why he gets overthrown and goes mad after loosing his sense of purpose and identity and Krikas fatalist worldview is why he refuses to change his ways and redeem himself in spite of hating his role as a villain. Its all so poetic in a tragically ironic way and just one of the many things that make Bionicle so fascinating to analyze and re-examine in spite of its seemingly simplistic writing.

[the-phantom-peach]

Hello, I hope you don't mind me messaging but it's nice seeing a fellow Castlevania fan. Anyway, I love how the series writes its much more gray characters like Isaac and Olrox. Isaac's journey was so awesome to watch. Do you think Olrox is going to have a journey of his own?

Ooo i love this question~

I agree with Isaac’s whole storyline, so so satisfying to see him find his own destiny despite his past as a slave and with Dracula. I think it’s interesting that for both him and Olrox their actions were understandable despite being perceived as morally wrong by most. I especially love Olrox being almost a foil to Dracula’s character which makes him a bit more redeemable imo. So I really hope we get a large chunk of story on him and whether or not he maintains his motivations now that he’s working Richter.

Overall, praying Olrox isn’t doomed by the narrative

[carverl]

I've been rewatching the Indiana Jones films and decided to rank them from least favourite to my absolute favourite, I'd like to note that despite what negative things I may have to say I don't think there is a bad movie in this franchise which is kind of a miracle. I love all of them to some extent, this series means the world to me, and I feel the entertainment industry is lucky to have it.

5. Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

I really love the first two acts of this movie; the 50s setting is fun, Harrison Ford is great as ever, Cate Blanchett plays a great villain, the action is fun and energetic, and despite how much of a shitty person Shia LaBeouf is his performance as Mutt Williams is honestly really great. Then they get to the jungle in the second half and it all starts to fall apart. The car chase is pretty terrible, the giant ants are creepy but kind of just meh and the conclusion feels very underwhelming. I will say that I don't agree with the criticism that there being aliens is a bridge too far, it's about as plausible as any of the other supernatural stuff so it doesn't feel out of place to me. Overall a fun movie just a bit messy in its third act. 6/10

4. Dial of Destiny

I was so anxious to watch this one, all I'd heard from people was that it was terrible and another wasted legacy sequel, so imagine my surprise when I sat down to watch it and found it's actually brilliant. It feels like a proper finale to the series and does a lot of interesting things with Indy and makes him more compelling in this film than he's been since Last Crusade. Mads Mikkelsen plays my favourite Indy villain in Jürgen Voller, who is intimidating yet ever so slightly campy. I love him, and his plan is so bonkers and off the wall it's amazing. Helena is a brilliant supporting character, and I love how she's kind of like a young Indy with her own version of Shortround. The overall message of the film plus how it deals with Indy's age and the ending made me cry, I felt it was truly something special. That being said, I didn't like the CGI young Harrison Ford at the start of the movie, as well as how a lot of the once practical stunts are now completely CGI, but that aside I love this film. 8/10

3. Raiders of the Lost Ark

The classic that started it all, I'm not gonna say much about this film mainly because I feel like out of all the films I have least to say about this one. It's really great with phenomenonal action, music, acting, and pacing. An adventure for the ages, everything that could possibly be said about this movie has been said. It's a masterpiece. So why is it not at the top? Mainly cause I like the next two more, nothing against this film but I feel later entries improve on what's already there. Still the most quintessential adventure film of all time. 9/10

2. Temple of Doom

My hot take is that Temple of Doom is better than Raiders and I will die on this hill. This movie is a thrill ride from start to finish with some of my favourite characters in the whole franchise; I love Shortround and think he's a great sidekick to Indy, I love Willie she's such a great comedic foil and her line delivery never fails to crack me up, Mola Ram is basically the devil himself with how genuinely evil he is compared to the other bad guys he seems to be relishing in his evil. The camp fun of this movie mixed in with genuine horror imagery and elements make it utterly unforgettable to me, I know for some people it's too mean spirited but I kind of love that about it. Harrison Ford is so great here too, he is an absolute delight in this movie in every scene. The action is unmatched in the rest of the series here with the mine cart chase and bridge collapse being series highlights for me. Overall, it's just a brilliant bit of fun that while not being very deep has such great entertainment factor that I adore it. 9/10

1. The Last Crusade

I must have watched this on VHS so many times as a kid, I was constantly rewatching Last Crusade so I have a nostalgic bias for this movie, but so what? This movie means so much to me personally, its themes of obsession and fatherhood are beautifully executed. Getting Sean Connery, James Bond himself, to play Indy's father was a genius move by Spielberg the presence of Henry Jones sr elevates this film to the stratosphere for me. The story and characters are absolutely perfect, the action is as great as ever, the character of Indiana Jones himself is at his peak in this movie with how we learn so much about his past with that incredible opening sequence with young Indy. My only slight criticism is that the main villain, Walter Donovan is the weakest of the series, but even that's made up for by Elsa, who plays the role as both villain and love interest brilliantly. I love this movie to death. 10/10

"Indiana, let it go."

[literary-illuminati]

Book Review 3 - Last Exit by Max Gladstone

Okay, book review number 3! This was a denser read than the last few books I’ve gone through – I think it literally had more words per page than standard? Or maybe just a heavier writing style.

Now to be clear this isn’t any sort of complaint – I absolutely adored this book (So, thanks a million to @booksandchainmail and @circletofcircles for pointing me towards it!). Feels like I was leaving a bookmark every few pages because there was a passage that really jumped out at me I wanted to save. I had to just start tearing up whatever receipts I had handy every bookmarks at a certain point. Between this and This Is How You Lose The Time War, I absolutely need to hunt down some more of Gladstone’s stuff (I say, as if I don’t already have Empress of Forever out form the library and sitting on my dresser).

So, the story doesn’t make any direct reference to Lovecraft – and it is otherwise not shy at all about making direct references. There are like a half-dozen places where I could just tell what book/article/discourse Gladstone had on his mind as he wrote it, even leaving aside the e.g. place literally named Elsinore – but it honestly did a better job of being an anti-cosmic horror story than a lot of the stuff that says on its face it’s About Deconstructing Lovecraft does, at least imo?

The alien is terrible, and terrifying. It’s vaster than you can imagine, and it will destroy everything about the life you know. It whispers to the desperate and forgotten, speaks and promises to those who’d cast aside the world for something, anything, else. Fighting it is miserable, and bloody, and leaves you ruined in body and soul. But saving the world requires sacrifice, requires hard lines and desperate measures.

But, well, have you taken a look at the world recently? How sure are you it’s better than what lies beyond it? How much killing are you willing to do, off that surety?

And the book is excellent is getting that sense of desperation, of sunk costs and impending doom and making it feel like the only real choices are finding a bit of happiness for you and yours and shutting out the bigger picture, or making yourself a sin eater shoring up a rotting foundation. Also just generally, at giving a sense of poverty and desperation and impending collapse.

I’d say the resolution and epilogue feel a little saccharine, but that really very much the point – cast aside the gods we’ve made to rule over us, and the world really will be as good and kind as you’ve never dared to dream it might be. It’s a very anarchist story, that way.

The villain’s really fascinating, honestly. Like, in a certain very pat sense, it’s the embodiment of settler colonialism – a cowboy in a white hat who is watching you through every NSA back door in every phone camera – but it’s a bit more fundamental than that. (Also, weirdly not that racist or homophobic, given that)

I mean in one sense, like, the Cowboy’s whole thesis is that the world is basically awful, and anything good for anyone comes only at a cost to someone else, and that if you want a comfortable life for you and yours, you better have some men with guns willing to keep the people your comfort is taken from from tearing it back with interest. All of his associations are with civilization – roads, cities, cameras, guns, hierarchy writ large – are you get the sense that all the specific referents are about Manifest Destiny, the core is very, well, we’ve all read Against the Grain, right? The passages about how the first city walls were probably built to keep people in as much as out seem relevant, especially.

Or – there was a Tides of History episode a few weeks back about the Assyrian Empire, and how according to royal theology Ashur the god WAS Ashur the City, and the spread of the empire was the ordering of the world according to Ashur’s laws was in a sense the spread of Ashur himself. That feels like a comparison the book would have drawn, if the subject had come up.

But I’m rambling and only barely coherently, so will stop myself there – book’s not perfect, by any means, have some nitpicks with the plot, the direct references to contemporary politics get a bit didactic feeling and tired when you’re getting them with the same perspective from four/five POVs, the finale kind of descends into melodrama – but really lovely book, would recommend.

(also – it’s not really relevant to anything, but between this and Ninth House what the fuck is up with Yale? )

[reasoningdaily]

12 African Gods and Goddesses: The Orisha Pantheon | History Cooperative

A vast, diverse continent, religion, and mythology across Africa is rich and vibrant. The African gods and goddesses that make up these belief systems are worshipped in many ways by millions of people around the world.

The Yoruba religion, which is today found throughout Southern Nigeria, forms the basis of many religions practiced by members of the African diaspora. These gods and goddesses are some of the more well-known in Africa yet some of the lesser known by people of the the rest of the world.

A detailed list of all the African gods and goddesses would be endless, but these twelve from the Orisha Pantheon are a good place to start.

Table of Contents

Eshu: the Divine Trickster

Ogun: the Master of Iron

Shango: the Bringer of Thunder

Oshun: the Mother of Rivers

Obatala: the King of Peace

Oya, the Goddess of Weather

Obaluaye, the Master of Healing

Yemonja: the Whisper of the Ocean

Orunmila, the Oracle of Wisdom

Oba, the Flow of the River

How Many African Gods are There?

The Concept of a Supreme African God

Olodumare and his Journey Away from Earth

The Capstone of African Mythology

Important themes 

Eshu: the Divine Trickster

Mischief is something that doesn’t go unnoticed in African mythology in general. Trickster gods are present in many cultures around the world. It is something that adds that bit of extra tanginess to a stew of divine righteousness. 

When mischief and trickery can be converted into an orb of power controlled by a celestial spirit, it makes way for a relatively powerful narrative that strikes awe within its believers. 

Eshu, otherwise known as Elegba, is the Trickster of the Orisha Pantheon. He is the benevolent version of Loki in African mythology and a wandering trickster spirit generally concerned with probability and elusiveness. 

By Western interpretation of Eshu, though, he is not seen as this malicious spirit doomed to destroy humanity through psychological trickery. Instead, he has solidified his position as a messenger between the realm of spirits and humankind, not unlike the Greek god Hermes. 

He is not depicted as the devil himself. Still, He is believed to be more than capable of bringing adversity to those that do not take note of his presence. On the other hand, he requires sacrifices of resources such as tobacco to ensure constant appeasement and protection of human spirits

Ogun: the Master of Iron

No settlement can be complete without an armory. An armory provides the means to defend oneself from the dangers of the outside world. This defense was a top priority in a hostile place like West Africa.

And what better tool to carry it out than the trusty old iron?

Being abundant in the region, iron was a vital resource. Hence, the material having a specific personality induced a sense of wonder and natural instinct among those who believed in its smithing magic. 

Ogun is the Giver of Iron in the Orisha Pantheon. Alongside mastering the delivery of this world-building resource, Ogun is also dubbed the Warrior God of War. Wielding weapons of fine craftsmanship, Ogun oversees metalwork and conflicts that arise within the Yoruba people.

However, he refuses to interfere in what individuals choose to do with the weapons he blesses the productions of. The destiny of the weapon is left in the hands of the human who possesses it. This is an ode to Ogun’s double-edged sword, representing two sides of justice.

Being garbed in red, Ogun represents aggression in one narrative. Hence, his being is deeply rooted in the Yoruba people’s psychology. As a result, he stands as one of the crucial Orishas in the pantheon.

Shango: the Bringer of Thunder

Modern people often underestimate the might of a crackling burst of thunder. During ancient times, a slap of thunder signaled the onset of danger, or the gods’ wrath hurtling down from the heavens. 

In the Orisha pantheon, the supreme god meant existence through Olodumare, and the Yoruba storm god Shango was its bane. Filtering the very essence of wrath and fury, he was the bringer of thunder and brimming masculinity.

Sharing a commonplace with other famous gods such as the Greek Zeus and the Norse Thor, his prowess remained dominant with a chaotic sky. Shango directs the destination of thunder and lightning depending on what goes on in the world down below. 

His authoritative use of raw power symbolizes typical masculinity, linking him to a more personal viewpoint for followers of the Orisha pantheon. 

This power is often connected to dances conveying threatening gestures in rituals dedicated to this thunderous deity.

Shango has three wives, Oshun, Oya, and Oba. They are all mentioned within this list. 

Oshun: the Mother of Rivers

The natural world generally flourishes with life. This wouldn’t have been possible without bodies of water snaking through lush, dense forests, bringing much-needed vitality to all who benefit from it. Nearly every culture associates rivers with something benevolent. After all, they are essential natural resources giving way to life thriving within its banks. 

Being the Goddess of Rivers, Oshun is often attributed to being the lifeblood of the Niger River. In fact, her name comes from ‘Orisun,’ which was referred to as being the source of the Niger River. Oshun is also Shango’s favorite wife. 

Oshun’s aquatic finesse over the rivers of West Africa immortalized her spot as one of the most critical Orishas. Her blessings ensure that the water remains clean and fishes remain plenty, giving the people a peek into her somewhat empathetic side. 

This empathy also means that she is associated with fertility and childbirth. She is strikingly similar to Dionysus, the Greek goddess of wine and fertility. Being involved in marine affairs also implies that she is engaged in rejuvenating the human mind, further solidifying her position. In the Americas, Oshun is regarded as the ‘Orisha of Love.’ 

However, one thing is for sure. Whichever way she is depicted, she is always shown to be a motherly being with nothing but divine power at her fingertips.

Obatala: the King of Peace

While many Orishas are imaged through physical manifestations such as lightning or rivers, some are connected to deep human affairs. Peace, honesty, and creativity are just some of them.

Garbed in white, the King of Peace Obatala is a merciful Orisha dispatching purity. He is often noted as being the master behind shaping every child when they are within the womb. 

His symbols include a white dove and, in more modern times, wreaths of olives due to them becoming a universal sign of peace. Obatala practices a more specific approach to humankind, taking deep care of their psychology while enforcing justice within their affairs.

Oya, the Goddess of Weather

Good weather brings peace to mind momentarily. A great, lasting one makes way for a civilization to flourish. Crops may live or die due to changes in the skies above, and stomachs may be quenched for hunger or thirst. Weather is a fundamental aspect of any significant settlement.

Oya is the Orisha of the weather. Defined as an embodiment of wind, she is Shango’s wife and hence the direct caterer of his will. Besides shifting the clouds, Oya is also connected to tending to the dead. The ‘dead’ doesn’t just include a human being; it consists of the natural world in the sense that dead trees would have to fall to make way for newer ones. Her Slavic god counterpart in Slavic mythology would be Stribog. 

So, in reality, Oya really is the goddess of change. Like the weather’s unpredictability, she also commandeers the essence of constantly changing the natural world so it may continue flourishing. Due to this, she also holds domain over psychological qualities such as intuition and clairvoyance. 

Obaluaye, the Master of Healing

The concept of regenerative vitality is crucial to every society. No human being is immune to all diseases; however, when there is a chance to heal, it is always welcomed. This duality of vulnerability to conditions and protection against them makes up the next Orisha.

Obaluaye, also known as Babalú Aye, is the Orisha of healing and miracles within the pantheon. Both revered and feared, Obaluaye is well respected by the followers, and he is said to curse you as quickly as he can heal you. Being connected to places such as hospitals where the borders of life and death are frequently grazed.

Obaluaye is also connected to rituals that promote the cure for illnesses. His healing powers range from epidemics to skin diseases and inflammations. This healing power is said to be catered more toward people closer to death.

Yemonja: the Whisper of the Ocean

The ocean is vast and seldom cruel, and it is impossible to predict what lies beneath deep waves and endless stretches of water. Such is the need for a motherly figure to watch over all the uncertainty of this blue domain.

Yemonja is the Orisha of the ocean. Not only does she hold control over it, but she also radiates the power of compassion and love. Her watch over the seas sustains life as it is and seals her importance as a motherly figure in the pantheon and the entirety of African mythology. 

Speaking of which, Yemonja is the metaphysical mother of all the other gods in the Orisha pantheon. Hence, she is much revered and respected.

Orunmila, the Oracle of Wisdom

The concept of destiny is gazed upon in awe by all those who truly place their faith in it. Destiny is an important notion to believe in because it continually shapes the lifestyle of the individual who lives in its belief.

Orunmila, the Orisha of knowledge, omniscience, and wisdom, is the embodiment of destiny. His purpose might not be material, but it is a psychological one reflected in many African myths. 

Human spirits exist within the mind, and hence, tending to its development is what Orunmila really does. He holds power over knowledge, including information, intuition, and instinct. General African myths deal with confusion by introducing a force that counters it. Orunmila is a prime example of it.

His role also extends to the natural world as he knows everything that takes place within it. 

Oba, the Flow of the River

Orishas, too, have emotions that flow gracefully like the river. Oba, the Orisha of water and manifestation, is no exception to a story that is best linked to jealousy. 

Being the third and the most senior wife of Shango, Oba was one of his consorts. In the pantheon, Oshun was Shango’s favorite wife, which greatly affected Oba. When Oba asked Oshun about what she did to become Shango’s favorite, Oshun simply lied to her (knowing Oba’s children would inherit the kingdom). She said she once cut off her ear, turned it into powder, and sprinkled it into Shango’s food.

Driven by the will to become Shango’s favorite, Oba followed Oshun and sliced off her ear into his food. Naturally, Shango noticed a floating ear in his food and exiled Oba from his abode. 

Oba fell to Earth down below and morphed into the Oba river. Interestingly, the Oba river intersects the Osun river at an explosive speed, symbolizing a long-standing rivalry between two of Shango’s wives.

Oba is linked to rivers, marriage, fertility, and restoration. 

How Many African Gods are There?

The pantheon of Orishas (traditionally followed by the Yoruba people) is a sequence of divine spirits dispatched by the supreme god Olodumare.

Though a specific number can’t be placed on the amount of Orishas, there is an exciting notion around it. It is said that there are 400+1 Orishas, where the ‘ stands as an incomprehensible number that implies infinity. 

There isn’t an exact number, but sometimes it goes up to 700, 900, or even 1440 Orishas. As for the “400+1” concept, the 1 is an incredibly sacred number that tells you that there are countless Orishas, but you will always be one count short if you try to comprehend it.

So you may think about the total as often as you like, but there will always be one more Orisha to consider.

And yes, this does go on forever. 

The Concept of a Supreme African God

In African Mythology, the Yoruba people very well received the notion of an omnipotent sky god looking over all things that live on Earth. In fact, it takes the form of Olodumare, a celestial being that transcends the boundaries of space, time, gender, and dimensions. 

Olodumare is also known as Olorun, which means “the Almighty.” Although his omnipotence strikes a profound sense of existential authority, the Yoruba people do not have any dedicated shrines or places of worship for him. Part of this is due to the belief that Olodumare is so deific; his mere distance from the human world makes him incredibly detached from their daily affairs.

Olodumare and his Journey Away from Earth

The Lord of the Heavens was not always this distant from the planet riddled with human beings. 

It is believed that at one point in time, Olodumare was close to Earth. However, the constant need by human beings for basic things from the sky, such as food, seemed to frustrate him, so he began his journey away from the planet. Since his abode was the skies, he separated them and himself from the Earth and hence controlled the world from a cosmic distance.

It is here where he found the need to create the Orishas. As the emissaries of his power and will, the Orishas were each assigned unique functions, ensuring total order within the planet of Earth. 

The Capstone of African Mythology

Most African traditional religions are extraordinarily diverse and range over countless cultures and practices. The Yoruba religion and its beliefs influence human life in both the African continent and other regions. 

The Yoruba religion can be marked as a capstone of African beliefs due to its wide acceptance. Of all the African religions, this remains one of the few on the rise. In present-day Nigeria, Yoruba mythology has evolved into a faith where its followers address the gods and goddesses in respect to the complex oral traditions passed down from generation to generation.

The Yoruba people refer to this religion as Ìṣẹ̀ṣẹ. The word itself can be broken down into two parts;”’Ìṣẹ̀” means’ origin’ and ìṣe refers to “practice.” Coming together, Ìṣẹ̀ṣẹ literally means “practicing our origin.” As you can see, this is a beautiful way to honor their roots, as most of their traditions and beliefs spring from their deep-rooted faith in the Orisha Pantheon. 

Important themes

A relatively common theme integrated into the Yoruba religion is Animism. Animism refers to the belief that everything (and yes, LITERALLY everything) possesses a spiritual quintessence. Due to this, every object (material or immaterial) is believed to have some sort of sentience. 

As a result, they are all controlled within the domains of the Orishas. Like the gods and goddesses of Ancient Egypt and Rome, there is always a supreme being keeping watch over all. 

Another belief revolves around reincarnation. The belief in reincarnation is linked to ideas from their ancestors. The notion of reincarnation is that deceased family members make their journey back to life as a new baby in the same family they once departed from. 

As a direct result, Yoruba people can sometimes be identified as their departed imprints through visions and likenesses in appearances. To honor this, they are often given names such as “Babatunde,” which means “father returns” or “Yetunde” (mother returns). 

These reincarnated figures are usually there to assist their progeny with everyday life and general faith. Hence, dead ancestors remain as relevant as they can ever be even after death.  

Additional Resources

The Orishas, https://legacy.cs.indiana.edu/~port/teach/205/santeria2.html.  

Dialogue Institute. “Yoruba.” Dialogue Institute, Dialogue Institute, 16 Sept. 2020, https://dialogueinstitute.org/afrocaribbean-and-african-religion-information/2020/9/16/yoruba .

“Home.” Staff – Works –, https://africa.si.edu/collections/objects/4343/staff;jsessionid=D42CDB944133045361825BF627EC3B4C.  

[comicavalcade]

Submariner Summer 36

Ok fam who wants to #SubmarinerSummer part 36 read through with Marvel's first one-shot ever? Gather round for the interesting tale of--Iron Man and Sub-Mariner #1!

As I said in the last installment, Tales to Astonish came to an end. But not due to any failure. You see, in Marvel's distribution deal at the time, there was a hard cap on how many comics they could publish. That's why Hulk and Namor shared Astonish, and why Cap and Iron Man shared Suspense.

When Marvel was able to ditch that deal, their A-listers could get their own solo titles. Cap would take over Suspense, which ended at #99, and the Captain America solo book continued its numbering with its premiere being #100. Ditto the Hulk and Astonish; the last Astonish was #101, the first Incredible Hulk was #102

Iron Man and Namor would ALSO get their own titles, of course, but theirs start with shiny new #1s. But here's the thing...they each still had an unpublished half-length story meant to fit in a split title. So what to do? Well, publish a one-shot for the last Iron Man and Namor 1/2 stories

So yes, Iron Man and Sub-Mariner #1 continued the Iron Man and Namor stories from Suspense and Astonish, and the two stories had nothing to do with each other; the narratives in them would continue into the first issues of the two character's solo titles.

Namor, of course, was in the middle of his meeting with the Man Called Destiny. This tale is scripted by Roy Thomas, with Colan still on art, and it doesn't waste any time as Namor immediately strikes. Destiny, though, is way ahead of him, and why not, he reads minds

The battle is joined, but not for very long before the mind power of Destiny brings Namor to an icy halt. Then, as a Silver Age villain, he launches into a monologue sharing his origin story

He'd been a two-bit carnival mentalist, until learning that an Antarctic civilization had mastered telepathy. So he joins an Antarctic expedition...the same one Namor's father had led! McKenzie doesn't like him much, but they go onto the continent seeking the city of the Ancients

When they find it, Destiny tries to claim the power all for himself, but starts an avalanche that falls and traps him, but not before he finds the Helmet of Power. At this point in Destiny's story Namor breaks free and renews his assault

The Helmet of Power has enhanced Destiny's physical attributes as well as his mind powers, but physically Namor is still greater; and he's not just strong, he's fast, as Destiny finds out when he tries to shoot a sonic cannon at him that Namor handily dodges and wrecks

Unfortunately Namor goes overboard. He causes a cave-in when he throws the cannon, trapping himself under tons of ice. Destiny's Helmet saves him, and he gloats over his second victory over Namor, though we still don't know what the first one was.

A quick little clash for Namor setting up the villain's backstory, and leaving our hero deep in a trap of his own making. Its a lot of exposition, this ish; wild how much they could fit in those word balloons around some pretty action-y panels.

So, the one-shot is done, so where does that put us? Well, NEXT is a special origin issue to kick off the big premiere, because its time for Namor's full-fledged solo book! Prince Namor, The Sub-Mariner #1: Years Of Glory, Days of Doom!