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simplegenius042 · 5 months

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could i get some silva's hope pls?

Of course @sharkyboshaw!

Silva's Hope (or the Hope County Arc) is one of the main FC5 fics that is the pinnacle star of Far Cry The Silver Chronicles. It's my deputy Silva Omar's main story and (mostly) follows the events of the game up until certain points (things start to change like with her final hostile confrontation with John and when Joseph talks about his dead wife and child). This fic delves into Silva's past (the Archipelagoes, Elsa, Irene and their daughter, her father and his Congregation, Paul, his apostles, the massacre, so much more) and present (Hope County, the Resistance, the Ryes, Faith, her grief, so on), as well as her fight for the future, both her own and the county's. I've got this "thematic paralleling" going on between Silva's past and present, how it seems to be going down the same, when in actuality that's the illusion Silva is stuck in and just can't let go of. A lot of it is still under development, but with what I've written so far? I'm liking the direction its heading.

Silva's Hope tackles themes of dealing with loss, trying to find yourself again, a total deconstruction on the black-and-white moral view of the world, the importance of relationships (familial, platonic, and romantic) as well as the deception and hypocrisy that hides around every corner in both allies and enemies alike (or in this case how those two things are embodied in a single character and even a group... I'll give you a hint; it's not Joseph, nor is it Eden's Gate, but they certainly do play a part with those themes).

Silva struggles a lot... and not simply with her fight to just simply exist as she is in the face of ideals and occupations that either seek to ensure she doesn't or restrict her future to a set course. Externally and internally, from past and in present, Silva deals with demons. Which really sucks when she's putting the county's survival on top of her own shoulders, and her medication to suppress that trauma that's built up within her for years has run out and being constantly drenched in a hallucinogenic airborne drug that can project anything from a person's psyche if the local Bliss handlers aren't around to steady it sure doesn't help.

Case in point, the snippet of the closing act of an unnamed chapter below the cut:

[TW/CW: Inhalation of hallucinogenic drugs, arson, maybe attempted murder (of self?), swearing and mentions of war crimes]

With slow breathes, Silva awkwardly rolled around to face the destruction she caused.

Holding herself upright by anchoring her arms around her knees, she watched with stoned grey eyes as fire vacuumed in the green mist, consuming it like an endless fuel, dazzling with sparkles more than Gaius' clothing ever did. It was a mesmerizing sight, one that she needed to get away from, but she couldn't find the energy to do so.

A small portion of the populace in Montana needed her help, and here she was, watching a florist's conservatory crumble to the weight of itself to be consumed by flames that she had set alight.

Lindsey and Whitehorse would probably be pissed at her for destroying the laboratory, but Virgil had asked her to bring down the Bliss operations, however she pleased. She's sure this will earn at least a pleased laugh from Lader once the news reaches the woman.

Though beautiful in its own way, Silva thought she'd... feel more catharsis from burning this building down. Maybe she was just tired, but she felt disappointment that this wasn't as satisfying as seeing Zhan's Monastery burn and crumble over the cliff side.

The soft crunch of grass echoed from behind her, a mimic of the real thing she could guess, and with a heavy weight pushing against her mind, she could guess who it was behind her.

"I'm not apologizing Faith," Silva stated aloud, allowing her bluntness to carry clearly across, "You and I both knew this was an inevitability. So you can keep your holier-than-thou "these flowers bring hope" sentiment to yourself, cause I'm not in the mood for it."

No verbal answer came, only the silent treatment that Faith liked to frequently use when something displeased her.

For someone who proclaimed that Joseph freed her from herself, she certainly had a habit of keeping thoughts to herself. A difference I've noticed between Faith and Zhan... the bruja demoniaca was far more honest than the young woman she encountered now.

Silva opened her mouth to say something to Faith... but her words were lost as soon as she heard that chuckle from behind her.

A chuckle. Not a giggle, the childish, playful, frustrating, melodic giggle Faith let slip whenever she tried to bring down her guard, whenever she tried to get the deputy to open up, whenever Silva told a joke when she felt comfortable to do so. This wasn't the giggle she hated herself for finding to be nice and safe to be around.

This was a haunting chuckle that mocked her, a chuckle amongst the maniacal laughter which entrapped her within the night terrors that persisted almost every night when she could receive sleep. A chuckle, sophisticated and condescending, belonging to a young woman of high-class, shameless in her heinous immorality, an apathetic warmongering merchant who specialized in chemical warfare, producing nightmarish poisons and concoctions that resulted in the slow deaths of families and communities, horrifying the likes of Kamski to the point the older man couldn't bare the idea of facing her.

A chuckle that should never even be able to uttered again, not amongst the living. The chuckle that belong to the Apostles' proclaimed "Herald of Death"; Zhan Tiri, the only woman she would call a bastarda despite how little it emphasized the amount of blood that stained the woman's hands underneath the dark gloves.

"Such foul words Silva. And here I thought you appreciated my honesty," the wicked viper chastised from behind, giving a demeaning tsk, "You should wash out the filth in that mouth of yours with some soap... the toxins would certainly be doing you a favor."

Exhaustion forgotten, nausea forgotten, bruises forgotten as coherent thought froze and her body took action instead. Grabbing the pistol from her holster, Silva did not care for how many bullets were in the chamber, for whatever number would be good enough for her, as long as she got a good shot, like last time. But last time was with her last bullet, for the illusions wasted most of the lead.

The deputy aimed, grip shaking as she stared at the small woman, still donning her black dress, gloves and heels. A beaded head strap rested on her forehead, a purple gem in the middle. Her faded dark hair was still braided in twin buns, her face holding dark circles belonging to a chronic insomniac who voluntarily overworked herself, the smirk highlighting the black lipstick she wore. Her purple eyes still held the same hunger, the same arrogance she had until Silva put a bullet between her eyes.

Silva's wide eyes refused to blink, for even a moment to lose sight of the mistress of toxins could end in her retching up her own blood if she wasn't careful.

"You're... no, you're dead," Silva uttered, shaking her head as she took a step back from the woman who was only a head shorter than her, "I fucking killed you!"

Zhan Tiri's eyes widened her mouth agape as she feigned a gasp, gloved hand to her mouth, "Did you now?"

Zhan Tiri lips pursed and her brows furrowed as she began examining herself, hands patting down on her body and then tracing her forehead for the hole that Silva knew she fire her last bullet through.

Finding nothing, Zhan Tiri looked to Silva and gave a mocking shrug. her grin showing the fangs disguised as teeth.

"Are you so certain about that?" Zhan grinned, showing the fangs disguised as teeth.

Silva tried to control her breathing, body protesting as she remained standing, focusing her aim towards Zhan's forhead again.

Zhan Tiri took a small step closer, the vindictive grin on her face never disappearing, "Surely you have more to say to me than this? After all, Paul did say we were fami-"

Silva fired her pistol. She heard the bang. She saw the projectile hit the target.

But no body fell. No body laid on the grass at all. In fact, Zhan Tiri disappeared in a puff of green mist, unlike the grey of her Torment.

Silva glanced around for the bruja, turning to the foliage, to the road, to the burning conservatory and the Angels that laid unmoving, then back to the spot Zhan was in, only to be face to face with the woman.

Silva couldn't act fast enough before Zhan burst in a cloud of Bliss as she pushed the deputy. The push wasn't physical, so Silva wasn't effected.

However, she could not stop herself from tripping on herself when the Bliss clouded her vision, coughing as she slipped and stumbled, tumbling down the short slope til she was closer to what was one Jessop Conservatory, the surviving green mist worming its way to leech off the deputy.

Silva pushed herself up, catching sight of the deceased Apostle who stood with a haughty posture.

Silva eyed the short woman, catching breathes of Bliss as she panted, and defiantly said, "You're not real."

Zhan hummed inquisitively, "Perhaps. But I'm real enough for you, sister."

"Cut the shit, you never cared for his spiel on "family", not in life and certainly in death... you only endured it for the resources he could provide," Silva countered, one hand on her pistol, other hand reaching for her dagger.

"In some ways you are right," Zhan Tiri concured, "But in other ways... well, I guess we'll never know."

The herald looked to the Bliss spilled about, the flames ever consuming the drug, and rested her gaze on the Angels behind Silva.

"But this surely is quite the scene you've made. And what a waste for this... "Faith" girl of yours," Zhan said with a faux pout, "All that time and effort set back who knows how long. On the bright side though, her talents lives on, if only wasted for that prophet. I think I'd be a far more better mentor, wouldn't you agree?"

Silva gripped the handle of her dagger as she pulled it out, the Bliss tied around her wrist.

In her peripheral, she thought she saw movement with one of the Angel's bodied, but ignored it in favor of keeping her eyes on Zhan.

"Get out," Silva drew her dagger to sit alongside her pistol as she gritted out with venom, "Of my fucking head!"

The surrounded bodies of Angels started convulsing, muffled groaning and screaming coming from behind their masks, catching Silva's attention. Zhan Tiri smirked.

"If you can fight for it."

Silva counted the Angels rising up from the ground, the ones she swore she took out with her rifle not moments ago. Shit, SHIT, why couldn't have the explosion consumed them too?!

"This has been such a pleasant welcome back for me, Silva," Zhan told the deputy, Bliss circling around the deceased herald's heels, raising her like she was on a colossal podium, "But now?"

Silva raised a gun at the towering Zhan, the Angels standing at their full heights around the Deputy. Glancing about, aiming her weapons in defence, Silva could count three unarmed while four held an assortment of tools like rakes, shovels, pipes and a burnt picket from a broken fence.

"Shall we pick up..."

Silva noticed how a mist of Bliss started rising up and grow in size around them, closing off the sights of the conservatory and the surrounding foliage.

Turning back to her old foe, one of the leading heralds of the former Apostles alongside Paul and his other "children", now held twin balls of Bliss, and was on a higher vantage point that looked like it could move. With a grin wide with shameless maliciousness and directed at Silva, the deputy was starting to wish she was confronting Faith now.

"...where we left off?"

Despite how much her body ached, Silva couldn't back down from this, despite how much she was going to hate it. Whether this was the Bliss, her psyche, or through whatever impossible means, real... she only had one thought to encapsulate how she felt in the moment before the Angels made their first move.

Fuck my life.

#my silva omar mutuals and readers! been hallucinating traumatic ghosts since after 2015 #far cry the silver chronicles #far cry 5 #wip: silva's hope #oc: silva omar #oc: paul yellowjack #faith seed #despite neither of the latter two above actually appearing in person #zhan tiri #an adapted version before she became the demon sorceress from rapunzel's tangled adventure show #before reincarnation she was a human who became a herald alongside paul (and others)#she appears as her canon/reincarnated self in “the untitledverse”#it's a whole lore thing don't worry about it #this will make a lot more sense in the prequel

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haejjoon · 1 year

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while we r breaking down yusuke's fantastic character i wanna give a shoutout to yusuke and ryuji's friendship because it warms my heart. ryuji might not be an art guy, but he's ride or die for yusuke and he's gonna buy him every beef bowl he can.

and also to appreciate the chaos of ryuji "no homo, you're wearing socks!!" and yusuke "ah yes, i see, this act of flirtation is platonic. what a compelling display of male friendship."

(they walked in on akira and goro kissing or smthn)

YES... THEY'RE SO FUNNY HGLKSHFDLSK like ryuji (the most dudebro dude bro in persona lore) and yusuke (the most eccentric personality in persona lore) get along so well its insane. pinnacle of "i dont understand why you do the things you do but i'll support you homie". also they have like half a braincell to rub together so theres that i suppose

them walking in on goro and akira kissing is such a funny thought actually. imagining yusuke getting a strange look on his face and ryuji asking what's wrong, and then yusuke going "i now feel compelled to participate. surely some of that passion can be translated into my brush if i partake in such a ritual." and then ryuji going "NOT IT NOT IT NOT IT unless aha"

#ryuji sakamoto #yusuke kitagawa

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waluigis-biggest-fan · 2 years

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Tell Me About Your Weird Ships

Free chance to spread your problematic or otherwise strange ships. I will never attack you for shipping something. People who care enough about fictional relationships to get angry about it are insecure as hell and I'm only insecure as heck so your weird ship is safe with me.

I'll go first. (just don't click keep reading if you don't wanna see my problematic ship)

Bwen

I saw the other day that some people write off the ship as just "there's a girl and a guy" but that's not why I ship it.

Part of it is the taboo. I love seeing characters tear at themselves, their emotions swirling and hailing around inside them contained only by a thin organic cage that shows no signs of the chaos inside it. The way characters come to terms with it or otherwise don't. The realization that "yes, you do have feelings for someone you shouldn't," the denial that they have those feelings because "I can't possibly be feeling this. Its a fluke, a jest, a lie, or anything else besides the actual reality of the situation," the self doubt and self hatred that comes from these emotions they don't understand because "feeling this is wrong; I know it is but I can't not feel this," the realization that the feeling is mutual because "a future together is entirely possible and we both want to see where this goes but I still hate that I'm feeling these emotions," the inner or sometimes outer debate about what that means, and finally the pinnacle which is the acceptance where they say "this is who we are, we can't change that, we can't fight it, and its healthy to indulge ourselves, so why wouldn't we because of societal taboo?"

The second is just the fact the writers are absolutely awful at writing a platonic relationship between cousins. Even when I was a kid, their bickering never felt genuine, like they were both forcing themselves. Also, if Gwen hates him so much, why the fuck does she care who he's friends with. Every time he interacts with a member of the opposite gender, she has a meltdown, even when its herself from the future. When I grew up, I saw too much similarity with the way tsundere are written in anime and, while I recognize how stupid and overplayed tsundere are as well as being a bad example for young boys as it tells them "no doesn't mean no" which is bullshit, I still can't unsee their interactions as anything but trying to force themselves not to have feelings for the other.

I also don't ship them when they're ten but in a theoretical more original series compliant sequel because the actual sequel has some issues. (Not to say it isn't good. It's just not my thing anymore.)

#shipping #proship #send asks #ask game #ship post

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mythoughtsneedtogosomewhere · 11 months

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Day 7/30: On Love & Fear

[Day 6 is just gonna have to charge it to the game…I’m feeling moody so let's see what my brain has for today]

Love is many things. I’ve heard love be described as a creative act. Love is a verb and a noun and something tangible and intangible all at once. I’ve primarily heard it described as, and believe it to be, a choice. And I think I am deeply scared that there will never be someone who truly chooses me, for all that I am (besides God) someone to share life with, have a family with, be a family with. Simultaneously, I am a little afraid of ever meeting the person/people who would choose me. Do you think meeting the person or people God created for you is akin to staring God in the face? Something blinding and fearsome to behold? Something that fills you with a type of exhilarating terror? Or is it subtler, quieter? Either way, I don’t know if I'll ever feel ready for that experience. How would you know if you're ready?

I think there's a part of me that craves it. That deeply wants to be loved and love in return. In all of these novels I consume, what draws me in is all the varying ways it could happen. The multitude of ways you could meet the people who will become your family, fill all the vacancies in your heart and soul. How at the center of every story, even if it's not necessarily a romance, love is the driving force for everything. It's that powerful. And I feel like what's been marketed to me and every girl/woman/being with a consciousness in the world is that romantic love is the pinnacle of accomplishment.

And while I don't necessarily believe that because platonic relationships have been such sources of solace, comfort, love, and understanding for me (AND there are so many equally worthwhile connections to make like!! Romantic love is not penicillin! It's not the cure for all that ails you. There are so many other sources of joy and fulfilment!). Still, different scales tend to be applied to romantic love. It's a search for the ultimate best friend no? The Final Boss best friend😂.

But like I said part of me is afraid of it. I used to have similar fears when I was in lower and middle school. So excited to make/have friends but also so nervous that they didn't like me as much as I liked them, that nagging fear in the back of my mind that I was expendable despite whatever moments we’d shared and/or despite (or worse, because of) whatever vulnerabilities I’d shared about myself. Now take those worries, multiply by 5, and apply them to the person you may want to spend your entire life with! Some people are so quick to fall in and out of love, but I can't help but step a bit more cautiously...If love is a choice, how can you know you're not making the wrong choice and dooming yourself and those who come after you to repeat heartbreaking, generational cycles? What if the person you choose regrets choosing you?

It's terrifying. Being vulnerable, sharing yourself with another person, letting that person have power over you, being willing to let someone into your heart, have them get a glimpse of your soul.

Lately, I've been recognizing that vulnerability isn't the worst thing that can happen to me as a woman, but I wonder what it’ll take to develop the confidence to be truly intimate with another person, to trust them with every part of yourself. I know it should be the same as being emotionally intimate with my dearest friends, but tell that to my brain.

As ever it's all a work in progress. Mostly, I'm working on prioritizing just existing and being open to the world around me and whatever connections may arise, whatever new things I may learn.

#brain dump #writeblr #love #fear

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