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skyloftian-nutcase · 5 months

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Gerudo Town (Dad Squad)

All leads had indicated that the Yiga hideout was in the desert, as it had been in the past. Abel shouldn't have been surprised, honestly.

The issue was that he didn't know exactly where the base was. But a group of warriors did.

Trust was nonexistent these days, in the years after the Calamity. Gerudo Town had managed to escape much of the damage, but it also was cut off from the rest of Hyrule as a result. The oasis was abandoned, only utilized by weary and lost travelers, but no Gerudo roamed the sands around it.

"So let's visit this town, then," Rusl commented after taking another swig out of his newly refilled water flask.

"We can't," Abel sighed, leaning against a rock and basking in the coolness of the shade. "The Gerudo is a matriarchal society. They don't let men inside their walls."

Rusl blinked. Blinked again. Bemused, he remarked, "Matriarchal doesn't mean sexist. Surely they'll let us in."

Abel bit the inside of his cheek. He'd made this explanation plenty of times to his men in the years past. "I don't think the Gerudo are necessarily sexist. They don't distrust or hate men. It's just their tradition - whatever the reason, only girls are born to Gerudo mothers. So they just... don't interact with men in their hometown. It's tradition at this point."

"Strange," Rusl muttered. "The Gerudo are... rare where I'm from, but their distrust was shared equally to all, no matter their sex. They just didn't like anyone who wasn't Gerudo."

Rusl's words reminded Abel that they had yet to address a rather glaring matter. Ever since they had raided the abandoned Yiga camp, Abel had been pondering the fact that the Hero of Hyrule who the Fierce Deity had been protecting was a different Hero from his son. The Hero of Time was a children's story, a tale of folklore so old that barely anything was known of it except that the Soul of the Hero had traveled across time to save multiple lands.

So little was known of the goddess' destined Hero that Abel had often questioned the validity of any of the stories. He'd had no reason to disbelieve them, but... there was little reason to believe them either.

At least until his boy had come to him holding that sword.

So if the Hero of Time was one of Links being pursued by the Yiga... that just led to so many questions. Firstly, how the hell had they managed to do this??

Secondly... what was Rusl's boy? A potential Hero who could turn into a wolf? Abel had never heard of Ordon, so perhaps this Link was different - not of the Soul of the Hero but a savior to his own land nonetheless?

And now, this talk of different Gerudo cultures. Not only were these Heroes real, they and their guardians were plucked from Hyrule's history and thrown here.

I wonder their opinions on the state of things, Abel thought bitterly. How utterly we failed to maintain what they'd fought for.

It was a good thing his son was in a coma. He knew Link wouldn't be able to stand the judgment from the other heroes, whether it was good or bad.

"Either way," Rusl said, rising and interrupting Abel's musings. "I'll scout ahead to see if we can figure anything out without talking to them."

"The desert is treacherous," Abel warned. "It's foolish to go alone."

"I've gone to plenty a dangerous place alone," Rusl reassured him with a smile. "I won't engage in anything foolish, don't worry. I'll be back before sunset. This is just reconnaissance."

Abel supposed another issue to ponder was how little Rusl spoke of his past when he was clearly more than a blacksmith who knew some sword skills, but now didn't seem the time to argue it. He'd seen the man hold his own in battle well enough. Sighing, he waved a dismissive hand, watching the Ordonian walk away.

Glancing back at the oasis, he saw Rusl converse with the Fierce Deity briefly before continuing. The deity stared at the water curiously.

Abel wandered over to him. "Is something wrong?"

"This heat is mildly draining," Fierce remarked, dipping a finger into the water.

"You're more than welcome to swim in it if that's what you're wondering," Abel said. "But people do use it as a water source as well, so I advise cleaning yourself first."

"It does seem ill advised to drink from water that people can swim in," Fierce noted, raising an eyebrow. "My greater concern is hydration."

Abel blinked. If he was worried about hydrating, then why didn't he just drink?

"How much water does one need?" Fierce asked. "I have noticed you're both drinking much more since our arrival. Is it a matter of body heat regulation?"

"Have you never been to the desert...?" Abel questioned in disbelief.

"I don't recall," Fierce answered mildly, voice growing quiet. "I believe once, in battle, I was utilized, but not long enough for it to be a great concern."

Ah. Right. The things this deity did and didn't seem to know... it made Abel have so many questions. First and foremost, how the hell he was still alive.

But secondly... utilized?

"Drink more," Abel advised. "The body loses more water through sweating, and we all sweat more in the heat. Even you are."

"I noticed that much," Fierce replied with a chuckle, as if he were entertained at being taught something so simple. He dipped the flask given to him by Rusl into the oasis and began to drink.

Abel sighed, squinting against the sunlight. Link would certainly need more water if he was being held here. Or, well, had been held here. It seemed silly to go to the desert when their lead had been near Akkala, but... all Abel knew was that the Yiga stronghold was here, and they had all woken at the other side of Hyrule. They'd not had any luck finding any hints of their boys the entire journey here, so they had nothing else to go off.

After several hours of silence (Abel wasn't a particularly talkative man, and despite the deity's curiosity, he usually wouldn't speak unless prompted), Abel recognized Rusl's wavy silhouette in the distance.

The brightly colored handkerchief he was using to wipe his face was new.

"Did you have any success?" Fierce asked.

"Not really," Rusl answered. "However, I did figure out a way that we could get in to learn more."

"Is there a secret passage into the town?" Abel asked, curious. He had always wondered. He had always respected things that were forbidden, but that hadn't meant he wouldn't imagine ways of getting around it.

"Not from what I can tell," Rusl said. "But, with my plan, you could walk through the front door."

Abel found himself both curious and skeptical. He crossed his arms. "Really?"

Rusl held out the colorful handkerchief to him. Slowly taking it, Abel recognized that it was not, in fact, a handkerchief.

"The way the Gerudo dress lends itself to disguise," Rusl explained with a mischievous smile.

Abel held the veil at arm's length as if it would attack him. "You want. To do. What."

"Well if they only let women in, we have to obtain information somehow." Rusl shrugged. "You're smaller in build than me, and your hair's all grown out."

If looks could kill, Abel would have cut Rusl into pieces. "Absolutely not."

"What is it?" Fierce asked.

"He's suggesting I dress like a Gerudo woman to get into the town," Abel hissed. "The answer is no."

Rusl furrowed his brow, clearly frustrated. "Put your pride aside, Abel. This is important."

"Do you really think something like that would actually work?!" Abel motioned angrily towards the deity. "We might as well let him stroll into town in such attire for all the good it would do us!"

The Fierce Deity plucked the veil out of Abel's grip. "Will this allow one to look like a Gerudo woman?"

"Not necessarily," Rusl answered. "The point is that it will hide that he's a man."

"The veil will, but the rest is fairly apparent," Abel snapped. "I'm missing a few key components, Rusl."

"Nothing we can't tweak a little," Rusl replied easily.

This was insane.

"What other attire did you bring?"

Abel turned to argue with the deity about the stupidity of this entire half-witted plan when he saw the mythical man trying to figure out how to put the veil on.

He can't be serious.

"Well," Rusl said slowly as he pulled out more clothes. "I did grab varying sizes. The Gerudo are far taller and broader than I expected, so their clothes might actually fit you better."

"Very well," Fierce said casually, finally settling the veil in the right place. He started stripping his armor without a care, and Abel thought he was going insane. Was this actually happening right now?! A war god was going to cross dress in whatever insane attire the Gerudo chose to wear and--

And--

You know what, to hell with it. Better him than me.

When the Fierce Deity had finished switching clothes, the other two stared at him. Rusl crossed his arms, examining the disguise carefully while Abel just felt his sanity continue to slip away. He wasn't sure he cared at this point. Perhaps he could at least find some entertainment from this?

No, no he couldn't. It was too stupid.

Count your blessings, he reminded himself. At least they actually believe you about the threat the Yiga present now. They believe you enough to even try this fool's errand.

The Fierce Deity, usually a foreboding sight in his pale blue tunic and silver armor, striking attention with the royal blue scarf tied around his waist, was instead adorned in fiery red, which emphasized the paleness of his exposed, muscular abdomen and shoulders. He wore loose, baggy pants and flat footed shoes, silver hair and eyes glittering against a red and gold veil.

"This is not going to work," Abel immediately commented. "He's too big."

Too big, too broad, too muscular. The women of Gerudo were strong enough to probably lift an entire guardian off its feet, but their muscles were still distinctly patterned differently. Women's shoulders were not so broad, nor chest and waist so box-like. Whether the Gerudo assumed he was one of theirs or Hylian, he would still look too masculine to play this part.

"They'll find out immediately," he continued, feeling his stomach churn at the thought that came next. Maybe I should do it... it would be more reasonable, but... no. This entire thing is idiotic. It'll never work.

Rusl, who had been foraging for something else in his bag, suddenly pulled out two hydromelons. "Here, put these in your top."

Fierce took the fruit without argument, and Abel stared, eyes widening. Well, Rusl was certainly committed.

"Giving him breasts isn't going to fix the obvious issue that he is a man," he argued.

"Of course it'll help," Rusl replied. "He just has to... well..."

Rusl paused, staring at the deity as he fumbled to stuff the fruit in his top without them falling out and splattering on the ground.

"Play the part," Abel finished for him flatly.

XXX

Well... it wasn't an immediate disaster.

Abel and Rusl hid behind a dune as they watched Fierce approach the guards, who exchanged... baffled looks from what Abel could tell.

"Hello, fellow women," the deity greeted.

Rusl choked back a cough.

"This is not going to work," Abel hissed, his own voice strained in a competition between secondhand embarrassment, horror, and losing it.

"Hey, it would've been better if you did it!" Rusl whisper back.

Over my dead body.

Surprisingly, the guards shuffled aside to allow him passage after a few confused glances.

Abel stared.

"Ha!" Rusl huffed in triumph. "I told you it would work."

"You didn't know it was going to work!" Abel accused, turning to glare at him.

Rusl ignored him. "Let's see if we can get closer. We can peek over the far wall a little bit."

Abel sighed heavily, dragging his feet through the sand as the pair practically crawled around the edge of the town before climbing the wall opposite of the entrance. Abel half wondered why they couldn't just enter that way, but he supposed in such a small area they were bound to be noticed.

The pair peered over.

It was immediately apparent which one was Fierce. He was simultaneously blending in and sticking out like a sore thumb. His silver hair caught the sunlight, and his towering, imposing figure managed to outshine the Gerudo. Every woman who passed paused and gave him a strange side eye, but no one outright said anything. For his part, Fierce was standing still, surveying the area.

Abel groaned, pounding his forehead against the wall. "He doesn't even know what to do."

Rusl bit his lip, slowly climbing the wall and kneeling in the water that bordered the edge of the town. Abel hesitantly followed. Fierce immediately noticed of them with his superior eyesight. Rusl made little gestures, wiggling his fingers and mouthing words even Abel couldn't understand.

"What are you doing?" he hissed. "He'll never know what you're trying to tell him!"

Fierce nodded, walking slowly around the town.

"He's doing quite well for his first espionage mission," Rusl commented with a chuckle.

Abel groaned. "You're insane."

"Oh, Abel, you should lighten up. There are many ways to achieve a goal, it's not all about the sword."

"I'm aware of that."

The deity finally started to talk to women, disappearing in and out of the men's sight. Abel sighed, rubbing his face as he felt it steadily burning. Between the bright rays and the reflection from the water, he'd rival a Hylian tomato by the end of the day.

"Hopefully he can get some legitimate leads," Rusl muttered. "The sooner we can find the boys, the better."

Abel wanted to face plant into the water with the heat as bad as it was. Instead, he splashed a little on his face. "Yes, well, you're forgetting something very important."

"What?"

"Our esteemed deity is a war god with no idea how mortals function. He's probably going to ask them how they braid their hair."

"Come now, don't disrespect him like that. He's not an idiot."

"I didn't say he was an idiot. On the contrary, he's very curious. That's the problem."

"He'll focus."

Abel hummed, immediately thinking of his wife, Tilieth. Rusl clearly wasn't used to the mischief an inquisitive mind could stir up. Not to mention the deity wasn't exactly subtle. He was certain the deity's concern for his own Link would drive him forward, but he was likely to get distracted as well.

Assuming he could even keep the act up.

"A voe has been spotted! Up there!!"

Abel and Rusl both jolted, eyes wide as they looked down to see guards running their way with spears in hand.

"Time to go!" Rusl said quickly as the pair leapt over the wall back into the sand and scurried away.

Hours later as the sun cast long shadows and brought a chill to the air around the oasis, Abel paced anxiously until he and Rusl both caught sight of their companion's return.

"What did you learn?" Rusl immediately asked.

Fierce pulled the veil and shirt off, clearly having grown uncomfortable in it, and headed for his armor. "Mating customs are strange."

Abel immediately burst into laughter, vindicated. He honestly hadn't expected anything else. The day was wasted, but he supposed he could get what entertainment was available from it. Even he hadn't expected that to be the first thing out of the deity's mouth.

Rusl frowned. "What...?"

"Did Uli, your wife, assert her dominance to you, or is that a Gerudo custom?"

Abel's amusement multiplied tenfold, and he wheezed as he doubled over. Rusl stared at the deity in horror.

"I seem to recall you both spoke of varying mating customs in that village, after all."

Rusl immediately face palmed. "This... those are not the details you were supposed to be investigating."

"Fear not," Fierce continued, slipping on his trousers and under tunic. "I also learned the location of the Yiga hideout. One of the women reported having seen two boys and a wolf as well."

Abel and Rusl snapped to attention, earlier amusement forgotten.

"The Gerudo claim that the hideout was set on fire," Fierce explained. "They investigated it and discovered our heroes. My little hero apparently did not let them near him or his companions, but they were all alive as of one week ago."

One week. A million things could happen in that span of time. Link could have died in that time.

"Does anyone know where they went?" he asked breathlessly.

"The guards tracked them for a few days until they left the desert."

"They left the desert a week ago?" Rusl repeated. "That... so we must have--"

The Ordonian let out a strangled, frustrated groan, turning away as he shook his head. Abel felt similarly. They'd just missed them.

He wondered if the encampment near Akkala had been a more recent lead, after all. Then again, it had taken them a week to get here.

"We need to leave," he said. "The coolness of the night will be good to travel through in the desert."

The other two didn't argue. Rusl was growing frustrated and concerned at how long it had been. Abel was panicking at his son's condition. The three set out within minutes, determination set on stony faces.

Hylia... I... haven't prayed lately, I know, but... please...

Protect him. Protect... protect them all.

#the gerudo 100% figured out Fierce was a dude but they also 100% recognized he was NOT a normal being and did not want to pick fights #the chief thought it was funny and wondered if he was some kind of magical creature so she let him wander the town #the guards kept a close eye on him #he asked about food and proper nutrition for mortals #I will share silly dialogue on the matter later probably #he also got a massage and asked to learn the technique for his friends <3 #he'll probably break Rusl and Abel in half but it's the thought that counts #the links escaped the fortress once #got recaptured in the desert #escaped again and went out into hyrule #got recaptured once there #got pissed at being recapured and went back to gerudo desert for the sole purpose of blowing up the base #and that's the point they're at before the yiga start to bring out the big guns #writing #Dad Squad #abel #rusl #fierce deity #phew I finally wrote it!#probably not as silly as everyone was expecting but I definitely would've gotten bogged down if I got too detailed #now I wanna write the boys #fairy boy deserves to kick some yiga butt as a treat #brother wolf definitely wants to

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lulu2992 · 6 months

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So Greg Bryk regularly goes live on Instagram to chat with his followers and answer a few questions, and almost every time, someone asks if he’d like to play Joseph Seed again if he had the chance, to which he used to always reply that, yes, he absolutely would. However, in early 2022, he didn’t seem so sure anymore and said it would depend on the script (the question was specifically about a potential Far Cry 5 movie) and the writer(s). Then, a few months later, he implied he didn’t feel like playing the Father ever again because he thought the character’s story was “finished” and that Ubisoft should focus on creating new things instead…

Well, on October 14, 2023, he once again went live on Instagram and, when people mentioned Far Cry 5 in the chat, he revealed that he had reached out to Dan Hay and Drew Holmes, two of the game’s three main writers he’s become friends with, and that they had visited him “on set” (I’m not sure what he was shooting) the day before. In the past, he had already explained several times that he had loved working with them and thought the story they wrote (along with “JS”, Jean-Sébastien Décant, the game’s third main writer) was fantastic. This time, he added that Far Cry 5 was really “special” to him because the writers “cared a lot” about creating something great with amazing characters, and that he thought the whole Seed family was really well-written.

A few minutes later, when he was asked which character he would like to play again if he could, he said it was hard for him to choose because he loves them all, but he eventually picked Jeremy Danvers (Bitten) and Cobbs Pond (Frontier).

Then, surprisingly, he also mentioned Joseph.

I don’t know why he changed his mind again or if the fact he contacted Dan Hay (who doesn’t work for Ubisoft anymore) and Drew Holmes (who recently became the new IP Director for Far Cry) means anything, and I’m not sure I want more Far Cry 5 content to be released anyway (for continuity reasons), but I guess the Seed family’s return, as equally exciting and truly terrifying as this eventuality sounds to me, isn’t completely out of the question anymore in Greg Bryk’s mind!

#someone also asked if the book of joseph was canon but as expected he had no idea #actors rarely know that stuff and I’m not even sure he got to read it...#but yeah the boys’ awful childhood is definitely canon the writers have talked about it several times #far cry 5 #joseph seed #greg bryk #okay but... listen #I wondered if I was just imagining things when he first mentioned collapse during a live stream and I thought he looked a bit upset #the dlc wasn’t out yet but I was pessimistic so I concluded my fear probably was the reason he seemed unenthusiastic/disappointed to me #then when he said he didn’t feel like playing joseph anymore I once again wondered if it was because of collapse (which was now out)#but I told myself I was most likely influenced by my own negative opinion and he simply wanted to focus on new projects #but... now he’s happily talking about the original writers and how much they 'cared' about making something good #and he seems really enthusiatic again about possibly reprising the role in the future #so is he implying that he thought the other writers (the dlc’s)... didn’t 'care'?#does he also think there were problems with the seeds’ characterization in collapse??#is it possible that I wasn’t just projecting after all???#????#...okay maybe I’m still projecting #but the timing is a bit suspicious isn’t it?

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brother-emperors · 1 month

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Could I ask for your thoughts on why you say that Cassius should have been Crassus' political heir ?

so largely I’m half referencing this collection of quotes and the various attempts to fill in the space/grave with a body (like Cicero! Cicero was a contender for this!) and I’m sort of taking shots at Antony for fun and whimsy.

like in sports!! I gotta root for my man Cassius over Antony, especially because no one can actually fill the space left by Crassus after his death (literally, the political landscape makes this impossible), but Cassius assumes a command position due to everyone else (notably, Crassus) dying (so: inheriting Crassus’ leadership position) and wouldn’t be a bad follow up to Crassus in the realm of military command since they have a similar (strict, as opposed to friendly in a way is commonly associated with Antony) relationship with the men under their command.

& also bc Marcus Crassus jr seems to be disinterested in taking up space in the political spotlight on his return from the Gallic Wars otherwise I’d be advocating for him on the basis of family tragedy compounded. it’s time to fill the space/memory/grave of your father and brother, buddy!

#no one can actually fill the role of Crassus and after the death of Pompey it’ll be impossible for a Crassus-like figure to exist #because Caesar has redrawn the lines and you can’t achieve the tris homines dynamic with those lines #ALAS. shoutout to Caesar for making things fucking boring. The world got smaller and worse for it and that’s something #you can share with Alexander the Great! along with your allies forming a conspiracy against you. that’s another parallel #I do appreciate Antony as a terrible body substitute for Crassus tho it’s extremely interesting from a Roman Memory standpoint #and also maybe as an examination of Caesar. but also I don’t want to think about any of that for too long bc I have to start #breaking out the olde notebook with all the political alliances and dynamics written down with highlighters and etc #it does make me wonder what Antony’s opinions on things would be but i’d have to construct them from his later behavior #it’s almost compelling enough that I’ll probably do it for a couple of one shot comics focusing on Antony actually. get haunted buddy #a non linear haunting specifically. I’m so mad that once again Crassus has me thinking abt comics for people I do not feel otherwise #motivate to do comics of. AUGH #ask tag

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tankshaw · 6 months

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okay guys i know i say i want darlin to be besties with everyone but i NEED darlin to be besties with porter but in the way where they’re mean as fuck to each other but its also so obviously how much they care about each other

#i listened to the summit again #and porter asking darlin if they were alright ahfjshfk #he sounded sooo genuineee #god i wonder if porter was once a shifter #and the reason he seems to like darlin is (from a meta outside the story perspective)#so he can provide a reference as a shifter who was turned #for both darlin and us #except i dont wanna think about it #cause otherwise i’ll have to acknowledge that the next sam vid is probably gonna be The Talk #redacted darlin #redacted porter

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violynt-skies · 2 years

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remember that one episode in rottmnt when leo and mikey were being overly competitive while working as waiters for hueso and doing the whole “whoever wins this gets to be the all time champ of tomorrow”

okay imagine same concept, but w leo and donnie and it’s “whoever wins this gets to be the claim oldest for tomorrow.”

and it’s just them doing stupid shit or on low energy days it’s literally rick paper scissors or smth ahA.

bc splinter probably didn’t rlly know who was older and just chose at leo at random and didn’t think much of it

which irritates donnie to no end because you KNOW leo would pull the older brother card 24/7.

donnie constantly being like “see this is why dad should’ve named ME as the oldest.” “yeah but he didn’t sucks to suck.”

eventually everyone got tired of the bickering and that’s how the oldest competitions came to be.

except it didn’t make the bickering any better at all in fact it’s worse and now everyone else just suffers pfff

#leo constantly claiming donnie’s cheating #donnie def cheating and using tech as an unfair advantage #bc leo keeps choosing sports knowing donnie’s bad at them #it’s like lair games 2.0 but just featuring the disaster twins #everyone now wishes they’d just go back to the normal bickering #april once asked who was older when she first met them and it devolved into this giant argument #she learned to never ask again #splinter often wonders what would’ve happened if he named donnie as the oldest #he does not know if it would be better or worse #the rock paper scissors sometimes will go on unending rounds bc the losing twin will refuse to accept defeat #anyways ahA can u tell they’re stuck on my mind #disaster twins #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #rottmnt season 3 #unpause rottmnt #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #rise leo #rise donnie

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hairtusk · 2 days

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ONCE AGAIN SEARCHING FOR BOOK RECOMMENDATIONS OF THIS GENRE; DARK, HUMOUROUS, DEEPLY POLITICALLY INCORRECT, SEXUAL, PREFERABLY BRITISH. LITERARY FICTION ONLY.

#I've received some wonderful suggestions so far that i have in the bank #but casting the net once again to see if anyone else has any more ideas #ask and anon is open ! shoot me a line !#queue

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shuploc · 9 months

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you deserve EVERYTHING you've ever wanted for that black and white picture of miguel. i need that man like theres no tomorrow.

Aw man, that's sweet so of you, I don't even know what to say 😭 I was actually pretty afraid I had made it a little too out of pocket, but it seems like it was just right amount lmao.

And not to turn your sweet message into a rant, but it's such a huge bummer so many people are reposting that drawing (and all my other Miguel things) seemingly everywhere, with not a sliver of credit in sight. I have not experienced this level of reposting before, ever, and it's so incredibly disheartening...

But regardless, thank you so so much for the sweet message, I'm really glad you like the drawing! There might be some more drawings like that coming in the future 😌

#now I know I at least won't get beheaded in the town square if I draw him like that lmao #poking the bear fr #anyways lmao #thank you SO MUCH for this wonderful ask!#I'm so glad you like it' once again!

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jeffrey-combs-smash-or-pass · 1 month

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broski, you are an ace lesbian, why the fuck do you have a Jeffrey Combs smash or pass blog..?

Umm…I-I just think he’s neat

#ask #jeffrey combs #This blog was a random idea that I had to just pass the time while I was waiting for my Microsoft account to just load.if you ever wondered #(yeah once again I am bad with technology)#I honestly didn’t expect it to go on for this long #I just obsess over him like an unreachable object… like a star in the sky or something #I love him in the way someone would love clingfilm

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because-its-eurovision · 1 year

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I know I am being dramatic, but I am actually so devastated I don’t even have any room for anger

At first I was mad, so so so fucking mad of the unfairness of it all. Now I'm just sad and crushed.

I keep thinking what could have been. This was only the second time ever out of 56 participations we had a chance of winning. I'm thinking about how Tampere would have hosted, the celebrations, the parties, the banners and flags on the streets, Finns welcoming people all around the world to our country, how we could have followed Yle's preparations all year long and how amazing the end result would have looked if the recent UMKs are anything to go by.

We would have had a chance to show our music and language and culture and habits and weird sense of humour to the world just like Käärijä showed during his performance and during all of the season really. Winning with a Finnish-language song and then hosting would have boosted our national identity and confidence more than any ice hockey championship could. But no, our dream went down the drain.

I've only cried once before because of Eurovision, and that was when Conchita won. This time my tears are not happy.

#instead we get to hear once again how great Abba and Swedish meatballs and G:son are #and Sweden wonders why we hate them #eurovision #asks

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saints-who-never-existed · 3 months

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you had quite a compelling thought going in your tags of that bridglar gifset about loving something that cannot love you back... it would be a pleasure to hear the rest of what you had to say about it

I don't know that my thoughts on this are fully formed quite yet, but I'll tell you what I'm thinking so far and I'll start on a personal note.

I've always been fascinated with mythology and folklore - that fascination informed my artistic practice back when I was properly practising and is a huge part of the reason that I then progressed into the field of history and heritage.

As fascinated as I was, though, I found that I didn't actually believe in any of it which got me thinking - what does inspire that kind of feeling in me? That belief? That sort of religious-level ecstasy?

The simple answer was the great outdoors, the landscape itself.

I ascribed my own personal mythology to the landscape around me and ended up pursuing a literal artistic pilgrimage through key locations in the Highlands near my home back in Scotland which culminated in climbing my own personal 'Holy Mountain'.

(That was literally a decade ago and, let me tell you, my toes still haven't fully recovered from all that hiking!)

Which is all to say that when it comes to the idea of loving an entity that cannot love you back, I wonder, now that I've thought more on it, if perhaps it's a matter of perspective and expectation?

Yes, it's sad to think of how much those men would've loved the sea itself and how the sea did not, could not love them back. How it was the sea itself that doomed them, at least in part.

I think a lot about how they possibly could have reconciled that but then I remember my own experiences in the landscape, the love I feel for it and the joy it continues to bring me. And I think perhaps that you just don't and shouldn't love something of that magnitude in the first place for anything else but what it is or with any expectation that it'll love you back.

As I touched on in the tags of that earlier post, most of those men would have been at sea since their childhood/youth and built their entire lives around it, would've known it intimately.

So yes, while the sea is a cruel mistress who could not love them back, I think that there's perhaps a more positive spin to be found here.

That there's perhaps something quite beautiful and profound and, dare I say, holy, in the notion that they would've known full well the unloving, cruel, and capricious nature of the sea and that they would've carried on loving her regardless.

I've waffled on long enough now so I'll end on a more historical/Terror-specific note and say that I think there's also a really interesting conversation to be had about colonialism/empire vs the sea/landscape.

Though the men don't love the empire itself per se, their lives have been defined by it and everything they've done within their careers has served it in some way. Yet at the end of the day, it is just another entity that, for lack of a better phrase, doesn't love them back, doesn't care for them at all.

The key distinction to be made here, I think, is one of 'can't' vs 'won't'.

It's sad that the sea doesn't love or care for you, yes, but that's only because the sea is a natural entity that cannot love or care for anything. Think of how, despite it all, the love still endures for Peglar and there is at least something approaching closure for him as result. Even as he's dying he still loves Bridgens and he still loves the sea, even after all it's put him through.

To live your life, however willingly, in service of an entity like colonialism/empire is another thing entirely though. That's a man-made entity that doesn't care for you not because it can't but because, quite frankly, it doesn't fucking want to. An entity that had the choice and the power to care for you and chose not to. Think of James Clark Ross, for example, and the way his face drops when he realises that, despite everything that's happened and everything they've given in service of it, the Admiralty and the Empire still care more about finding the Passage than finding the men lost to it.

Now that's a tragedy!

#And behold once again my complete inability to give a succinct answer to any given question!#Or a coherent one for that matter #This is such an intriguing thing to me though and I'll be thinking about it a while yet #Coherence impending #I'm thinking about Goodsir too in particular as another person whose love of the world around him most explicitly endures #'This place is beautiful to me even now. To see it with eyes as a child's. There is wonder here Captain.'#The Terror #Asks #Friendos!

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flowerflamestars · 5 months

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In the style of @kayarai, new Effloresce pov options. The Illyrian legionnaires, because Cassian's personal legion must be having a day. Get called to the human lands presumably to do a job and go home. Instead they are given rights/respect/honor/a FUTURE by the most terrifying human(?) woman any of them have ever seen in their long, painful lives. Human villager pov, things are looking up and the fae don't take our children anymore then THIS happens.

Oooo these are both delightful!

The Illyrians, in particular, are primed for this dynamic to be successful. War is their only chance out, and for them, no matter how proud they are of who they are, they're safer/better cared for/better off, miles from the mountains. It's painful, but it's true. Cassian called for them, they came because it's Cassian, but also for them.

And at first, okay, humans have always been strange.

Humans, in their bondage, with nearly nothing to give, still shared.

(Zaphael remembers the war. Zaphael will never forget that particular war for a thousand reasons, but loudest and worst, he will never forget the humans, burying Illyrian dead with their own, singing, like the bodies of bastards were anything but carrion.)

But these aren't peasants. Slaves. These are royal women, in velvet and pearls and steel.

(If Kali had a single doubt, even one, augury a drum resounding in her bones, Nesta Archeron draped in Illyrian knives was enough to tell her the whole story Cassian's face couldn't hide.)

Giving them salt. Bread. Fire. Blessing and bounty and welcome, what they had been denied since birth, the snub a part of life. To be welcomed in honor means you possess honor in the first place, a thing no properly born Illyrian, no Lord of Night, would ever imagine.

There's nothing to go back to.

There's Cassian, the best of them, the proudest, the strongest, throwing himself into the sky just to fall back to earth at the human woman's feet, a sword so feared across the Courts it had songs sung of its blood-hungry edge pressed to her tiny, fearless hand.

It is no small thing to have a liege lord, when you've been denied even the right to have a name.

(Koram is a century old. He's never seen a human, and he doesn't understand now how the hell the fae ever had them in chains. These are their ladies, not even Queens, built like they don't know what fear is. Like it is nothing, to stand against the Morrigan. Illyrian women were allow to be that once, the true fury of the sky. He knows his stories. His songs. He'd rather drown the world in blood than go back to the life he has been given. He is not old enough to remember Shahar, their true lady, but he would have followed. It is no shame, to follow instead this scarce, ruthless chance.)

It is no small thing either, to be treated like people, not fearful animals. Audacity is a very valued trait, when paired with respect. These woman are mad, maybe, no one will say. No one would dare.

But there is questions as to what the hell they're on about, when they start talking about grain and land and contracts. To be Illyrian is to know the tithe of the imperial army above all else- to be bastard born is to know you will have nothing else.

Illyrians are not sent on rescue missions. Guard details. They're considered too dangerous, too uncivilized, too lacking in fae graces.

The Archeron want them to protect their children, no lives more precious. Their elders, their knowledge.

(All these things, Elias thinks, even the richest Illyrian lord in his freezing, iron disciplined citadel, living in the ruins of a civilization they are not allowed to rebuild- all these things they've been denied. All these things these ladies seem ready to kill and die to keep their own people from losing.)

It is insanity, but it is a chance.

On the other hand, the Archeron vassals are used to impossible things.

For years and years they had no intercession- you can dispute the crown tax without a lord to speak for you. Cannot shift around the crops in fields you don't technically own, even if they're ruining you. Cannot divorce, cannot reclaim lost property, cannot, cannot, cannot.

Respect was short on the ground for Lord Archeron.

Being wrecked by debt did not, actually, rescind his title. He left no stewardship, went off and hid in the woods when the collectors came, again and again, stripping his ancestral home until no walls even stood.

The other lords might not have listened to a man so reduced, but the estate remained.

Those three bright girls remained, and there was some question as to what happened to them.

And then they came back. Nesta Archeron, their lady, in worn out clothes and ragged cloaks, her sister Elain beside her. So poor they'd shared a horse, but still they'd come. Before their own affairs were settled, they'd sought the village council, and tried to do some good in their fathers name.

The money brought back trade, the trade brought back ships, the ships brought teachers and medicine and magic, the Archeron lands once more the beating heart of trade routes that spanned the world.

It takes time, to right years of neglect.

The lose their best every year, stolen away, their children. Women who laugh too bright, men who look too faraway. The fae come always, and then, so too, do the men.

Their ladies may run things in their father's name, but they have no legal claim to do so forever. Heiresses must marry.

And then, out of nowhere, the Lady Elain did.

A cousin, they say, an Archeron.

Not a drop of Archeron blood in that one, the vassals know. It cannot be felt, his claim. It helps, however, that he does not seem intent to enforce it to do anything but keep neighboring lords away. To protect their farms. To hold Lady Elains hand and spend his days fixing problems a Lord should not have even seen.

It takes time to notice, the fae do not come.

Not to their cradles, not to their fields. Not from the sea or to the shore.

It is the first year in memory of such safety.

And then, the gheas.

They are vassals, bound in blood to their land. When the binding breaks, all are meant to die. A complete and fae punshiment: to be erased, to be forgotten.

As though it is nothing, their lady tells them the binding in broken.

Like doom can be forestalled.

That not only have their lives been saved, they are offered places on Archeron's personal property. Equally, without servitude or cost. An escape, to somewhere that will be safe, with war on the horizon. The Archerons now, like the Archeron of old, take care of their own. Here, or on any shore.

A pride once, what was becoming a pride again.

There is fae blood among them, of course. Even now, centuries later, a rogue trait will spill over. The millers daughter has eyes like an owl, yellow, and the Lady Nesta provided glasses to hide the color. There have always been those who run too fast, who can breathe water, who live just a little too long. They often find themselves a true welcome on Archeron ships, half the crews of a continent where such mixture, such society, is safe.

Humans under the wall have never forgotten the war. It is songs they sing still, of freedom. Of fighting. Of Jurian who gave of himself to save hundreds from the wicked Clythia. Of Fatimah, who wrapt her braid around a fae princes neck as he slept, killed right in the bower he'd stolen her away to. In stories, they love fae and they kill fae.

In stories, they remember Illyrians.

Honor, kindness, devastating violence.

Fae castes are nothing to them.

But it is not nothing, for the Archerons, to share this bounty. They, who could fly away, sail away, to delay whatever punishment may come to bring along all who dare.

It is a return of heroes out a legend, when they, farmers and merchants and weavers, need it most.

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