#these two were holy relics when I was a child

[hiddenstashart]

fun fact: the name 'LEGO' is an abbreviation of the two Danish words “leg godt” - meaning “play well”

#Lego #shark #crocodile #these two were holy relics when I was a child #staples of my childhood #nostalgia

[thegnomelord]

Devotion in Steel

How They Worship You After The Hunt: Dottore, Childe, Zhongli.

So this is based off This idea I had about a cyberpunk reader in a cult!Sagau genshin, so this is just me testing the waters. I spent wayyy too much time on this one lol but this brainrot is still going strong.

CW: Suggestive themes, cult/yandere characters, reader is GN, mentioned gore for Zhongli part. First time writing Yandere's so tell me how it goes lol.

Dottore: Silent Curiosity

He does not worship you openly; he doesn't sing hymns about your mercy or your cruelty, nor does he press his face into the ground whenever you pass, like certain archons wishing for redemption. His worship is quiet. To the unworthy, the way he touches you — with clinically cold hands, examining every gear, and bolt, and piston with the same calculating gaze reserved for one of his machines — may as well be the highest form of sacrilege. Who is he to act as if you are just another of his toys? Who is he to not even say a single word to you? Who is he to touch and pull on your mechanical components like some urchin child toying with an object they do not realize is precious? But they can't do anything, because You do not see it their way. You do not stop or punish him, you encourage him; it isn't rare to find you two alone, him on his knees with your arm held in his hands, silently watching the moving mechanisms beneath your plating as you explain the intricacies of your mechanical form to him in that synthetic voice of yours that makes his bones tremble. His touch is clinical, precise, but it is by no means cold; His worship is conveyed through his actions. With reverence he cleans the dirt and grime from the seams in your armor, happy to stay on his knees for hours, days even, so long as not a single speck of dirt is left to mar your perfect body. With piety he polishes every gear, with admiration he oils every piston, worshiping even the smallest piece in your body like it is a holy relic. To Dottore, being able to see technology millennia ahead of his own and learn of knowledge yet undiscovered would have been bliss. But to feel it beneath his fingers? To feel it in his bones as that artificial voice of yours reveals the world's secrets? Heaven.

Tartaglia: Eager Veneration

Once, Tartaglia had only known of you from the stories his parents had told him; of a loving creator, a place of safety and solace in this harsh world. Later, when he fell into the Abyss, Skirk told him new stories of you, passed down to her by the denizens of the Abyss — ones his parents wouldn't have dared to utter lest they tempt Celestia to punish them for heresy. So when you descended, full of harsh edges and your body geared for battle, he embraced you as you were. He would have loved you regardless of your appearance, but something about the mechanical version of you made sense to him; Children resemble their parents after all, why should you have appeared like the demure little thing the tapestries depicted you as when Teyvat could be harsh, and cruel, and cold? He remembered his parents teachings, tried to be respectful like the other acolytes, on their knees, with their heads pressed to the ground. He would have done so happily, would have kneeled before you until he was nothing but bones, would have slaughtered countries in your name... yet the abyss gnawed on his bones, needing your attention like a babe needed a parent. So when you showed him favor? When you offered him to touch the divine metal of your cybernetic body? He couldn't stop himself. Anxiety tempered his eagerness, he did not seek more than what you offered him, yet his hands still glided over your skin and metal with the same energy as the little gears beneath your outer shell. Trembling fingers traced old dents and scratches that ripperdocs had neglected to fix, words of absolute devotion leaving his lips as he put his head to your chest, listening to the tik tik tik of mechanical organs beneath your chassis. But your weapons enchanted him the most. It reminded him so much of the Foul Legacy hiding under his skin; the promise of danger and death lurking beneath the surface, ready to be used as soon as a threat appeared — a similarity between you two that no one else could claim. He could spend days simply kissing and lavishing the seams in the armor, feeling where fake skin transitioned into metal which hid your weaponry from the world. Though you never allowed him more than a look, he yearned to touch them, to kiss the sharp blades, to feel his bones bend under your mechanical strength, to feel the monowire burn through his skin... Please, won't you let him? He survived the Abyss, he promises that he's tough, he can handle the pain... just this once, let him worship you, all of you, please?

Zhongli: Desperate Absolution

Zhongli is afraid; to touch, to breathe, to even exist near you. How can he not be, when he is the reason for your missing parts? Your aching joints? When he was the one who harmed you, who tainted your holy body with his hate and prejudice? When he was so prideful as to forsake his creator because they did not fit his own imagination? When the truth was revealed, the real impostor laying dead and your mechanical frame speckled with drops of your golden blood, he understood he was in no place to anything but bow and pray your fury would be swift and merciful, though he did not deserve it. Yet even as he knelt before you, head bowed so low it was flush with the ground and eyes shut tight, not daring to even glance at your metallic feet, a part of him still yearned for a chance at redemption; to earn back the chance to worship you, to earn your forgiveness through devotion. He would do anything for it; Kiss and lick the dirt off your mechanical feet, be at your beck and call till the end of time... If you wished to regain your lost parts — he would scour the far reaches of Teyvat until he found all the metal pieces you had lost, and those that were permanently damaged? He would carve his bones into shape, until they fit... If you told him to forfeit his flesh like you had done — he would claw at his skin until not a single scrap of meat hangs off his bones. He would happily wander the earth as a skeleton, grafting pieces of old Khaenri'ahn technology to himself until he resembled you, just so you could inflict the same wounds he had done to you... Yet you did no such thing. Even as his thoughts gained a voice, escaping his mouth through muffled whimpers, all you did was watch him, your mechanical gaze racking over his shivering form as he tried to stop his hiccupping cries. Truly pathetic. Then your fingers found his chin, gripping him in a bruising as you raised his head to look at you. Your mechanical eyes reflected in the tears running down his cheeks, the metal joints in your fingers nipping at his skin. His eyes met your cold gaze, and he wondered what you will ask of him — His eyes? His tongue? His arms? The impostor would have demanded all that and more... He would give it in a heartbeat. But please, find it in your cold heart to forgive him.

#sagau zhongli #sagau brainrot #sagau idea #bottom genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #tartaglia #dottore #genshin x gender neutral reader #cyberpunk sagau #sub dottore #sub tartaglia #sub zhongli #dom reader #genshin cult au #men crying #genshin fluff #centerpieces of the hoard #cyberpunk reader #zandik x reader #zhongli x reader #childe x reader

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

The Holy Relics

Note: requested by @synintheraven! I'm guessing this is not what you had in mind, but this is where my inspiration took me. I had a blast writing this and hope you'll enjoy reading it!

Warnings: fluff, bad comedy and some misogyny.

pairing: Detective!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: being a female detective in the '80s isn't easy, and your new partner didn't make it any easier either.

wordcount: 4,4k 

Masterlist

If the man in front of you would open his mouth one more time you were probably going to explode. It was a Monday morning and you were at your favourite coffee spot, scoring a drink before heading into the station to work on a new case. It was busy, as per usual, as everyone needed their caffeine fix and there seemed to be a new barista at work, for the line was growing longer behind you and barely moving in front of you. You had been waiting at least ten minutes already and, yes, you were annoyed too. But you understood that everyone has to learn a new skill at some point, so you waited patiently for the stressed out looking barista to complete the orders of the people ahead of you. However, not everyone was as understanding as you were.

'Fucking hell,' a young student behind you sighed, and she left the line not much later.

You watched her run out of the coffee shop and to the bus stop across the street, where she managed to hop on the bus just before it departed. The man in front of you had been compulsively checking his watch and kept muttering under his breath, and it annoyed you greatly, just like the old hag who was behind you now also started to mumble her complaints.

'Can't you hurry up?' the man in front of you raised his voice, 'I have a job to go to!'

'I- I'm sorry,' the barista stammered, his cheeks turning crimson while he desperately tried to not drop two full cups.

'Be patient, sir. We all have a job to go to,' you sighed.

The man turned to face you, looked you up and down with disgust and then scoffed.

'We all have a job to go to,' he mocked you and made a face, then turned his back to you again.

'Wow,' you chuckled at him, then mumbled, 'someone's a man child.'

'Who gave you permission to leave your kitchen?' the man mumbled back over his shoulder and checked his watch again.

'Sexist asshole,' you scoffed, and you both huffed at each other.

'How much longer will this take?' the old lady behind you questioned.

'If you're all going to keep adding pressure on that poor guy, it will take even longer,' you snapped at her, and the old lady figured you were right and mumbled an apology.

'Some people just aren't fit for their jobs,' the man child retorted.

'Oh, and what is your job then that you are so perfect for?' you hissed.

'None of your fucking business.'

'Watch your language, young man,' the old lady sounded from behind you.

Before you could speak again the line suddenly moved as another barista was called in for help. And before you knew it you were paying for your coffee while the man child added some extra sugar in his. He glared at you before he rushed out of the shop, and the old lady who was behind you wished you a nice day, which took you by surprise but also reminded you that not everyone is as rude as they may seem. You jumped in your car and made your way to the station, making it in time just barely and clocking in only a minute before your shift started. You greeted your detective colleagues and made haste to the already empty briefing room where you only saw your Captain. Your day hadn't been off to the best start, and it got worse when you heard that your usual detective partner, Ragnar, had been abruptly transferred to a different city and you were immediately introduced to his replacement.

'This is detective Kjartansson,' Captain Beocca smiled proudly as he introduced the newest addition to his team who stepped through the door, 'Sihtric here will be your new partner.'

Your eyes widened and anger began to boil inside of you, your hands itching while your heart rate became dangerously high.

'You've got to be fucking kidding me,' you scoffed and stared at the new detective, who looked just as surprised as you. 'Oh no, absolutely not,' you shook your head and looked at Beocca, 'I'm not working with this guy.'

'But he's one of the best in the business,' Beocca said, dumbfounded at your reaction, 'the contracts have been signed, you two will have to work together,' he shrugged and pushed a pile of case files in your hands, then quickly left the briefing room.

'Unbelievable,' you muttered and looked at the man child you had argued with at the coffee shop, who had apparently been in a rush because it was his first day at your station.

'Yeah, well, tell me about it,' Sihtric rolled his eyes and sipped his coffee.

You stared at each other with a heated passion, and you wanted to claw his mismatched eyes out when he looked you up and down again and you remembered his sexist remark. You gave him a disgusted face and pinned the case files against his chest, forcing him to clumsily get a hold of the paperwork before it would fall and scatter over the floor.

'I hope you are fit for your job, you pig,' you hissed and turned on your heels.

You studied Sihtric as you sat across the table from him. You couldn't deny he was handsome, with his slightly scarred face and his long dark hair, which was braided on top and you were jealous of the curls he had in the back. His goatee and moustache were well kept and the tattoo in his neck on those on his fingers were attractive. He was wearing black jeans and a black blouse with a red tie, which was an odd combination with the rugged looking black leather jacket he wore on top. Sihtric earned a lot of smiles from the ladies who stopped by the donut shop you were in, if only they knew how rude he could be. You were glad that you weren't dressed as obvious detectives, because reading through case files in a donut shop was an awful cliché, and you had argued against going there. But Sihtric was stubborn and hungry, so there was no point in trying to change his mind. You watched him judgingly as he stuffed his mouth with one donut after the other, leaving sticky fingerprints all over the paperwork and your hands began to itch again at how reckless and careless he seemed to be.

'So,' he said, barely audible because his mouth was full, 'this stolen relic is one of many?'

'Yes,' you tried to keep your cool, 'churches are being targeted for their holy relics. Once stolen they seem to just vanish. We haven't found any of them back so far, this is just another one to add to the list. Usually this is a case for the local cops, but more and more relics have gone missing, whoever is behind it is not sticking to one town anymore.'

'What do you think happens with the relics?'

'Only God knows,' you shrugged.

'Have you asked him?'

'Asked who?'

'God,' Sihtric snorted, proud of his joke.

You glared at the detective with his stupid grin, your face completely emotionless, and soon Sihtric's amusement faded away too. You refused to respond to his stupidity and told him that you think the relics might either be destroyed by non-believers or simply sold, as they are worth good money. Sihtric agreed those reasons seemed logical, and he licked his donut-glazed fingers clean before leaving to pay a visit to the most recently targeted church.

'They just… they… they took the arm,' Osferth stammered, still completely in shock from his find a few days ago.

The poor monk had entered his church and found the coffin of Saint Cuthbert vandalised. To his horror he discovered that the recently preserved body of the Saint had been damaged, and his arm had been taken.

'Just the arm?' you frowned, 'why just the arm?'

'I truly don't know, detective,' Osferth fought his tears, 'only God knows.'

Sihtric exhaled sharply next to you and you saw a grin tugging at his lips. You elbowed him as a warning to not ask poor Osferth if he had "asked God".

'Perhaps the whole body was just too impractical,' you guessed, 'or they got disturbed. You really didn't see or hear anything when you arrived here?'

'No, nothing,' Osferth said sadly, 'it looked planned to me. Like they only wanted the arm, maybe because it still had rings on the fingers perhaps,' he looked suddenly panicked.

'We'll try everything to return the bones to this church,' you tried to calm Osferth.

'Thank you, detective. God bless you.'

The young monk let out a soft sob and made the sign of the cross as Sihtric took out his little notepad.

'So,' Sihtric cleared his throat and clicked his pen, 'the arm, what did it look like?'

You and Osferth looked up at Sihtric, with a puzzled look on both your faces.

'Well… it's… it's an arm, detective,' Osferth said slowly, 'it's… it's bones.'

'Right,' Sihtric said, then tucked away his notepad and sniffed, realising how dumb his question had been but too proud to openly acknowledge his stupidity.

You and Osferth watched your partner awkwardly look around the church, then you quickly thanked Osferth for his time and left the holy building. You got back into the car, seated next to Sihtric in the passenger seat as he insisted that he was a better driver because he was a man, and you began to laugh.

'What's so funny?' Sihtric frowned.

'What did the arm look like?' you mocked him, 'you idiot.'

'Shut up,' Sihtric huffed and started the car.

A few days later an anonymous tip had gotten in about a church which might be the next target. You and Sihtric were to stake out at the building at night, keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity. Since you were undercover, and because the stake out may last all night, you were both dressed rather comfortably in jeans and a hoodie, no weapons. You and Sihtric didn't speak much while you sat in the car as he was making a crossword to keep himself entertained, but whenever you did communicate you only bickered. You still wanted Sihtric to apologise for his sexist comment in the coffee shop, while he kept pushing that he wanted to get out of the car and go inside the church to look around.

'Don't do it,' you argued against his plan, 'we're not carrying any weapons, we shouldn't venture inside right now, not knowing who or how many people we might find.'

'I get it,' Sihtric sighed and looked at you, his mismatched eyes lit up by a ray of silver moon light, 'you're scared.'

'Scared? What should I be scared of?'

'It's okay,' he smiled sweetly, 'but there's nothing to be afraid of. Even if there is anyone inside right now, I'll protect you,' he winked and flexed his biceps.

'What the fuck,' you whispered, bewildered, 'I'm not fucking scared, Sihtric! I'm being smart! You can't just go and look for people when we don't even know who we're looking for!'

'Look,' Sihtric sighed, 'I'm not going to ask you to do something you're clearly afraid to do. You can stay in the car and I'll go and have a look on my own.'

'Absolutely not!' you barked and grabbed his arm when he attempted to open the car door, 'we are not going in there!'

'Fine!' Sihtric growled and shook your hand off his arm, 'we won't go inside, but at least let me take a look if there is any activity in the graveyard behind the church.'

'The graveyard is closed.'

'And?'

'And? It means we'd have to climb the walls to get in! That's… that's a felony.'

'Yeah,' Sihtric scoffed, 'that's exactly what criminals do, so we should check it out.'

You groaned and figured it was impossible to argue with this guy, so you followed him reluctantly towards the secluded graveyard. Once you reached the walls that shielded the resting place from the outside world, Sihtric couldn't deny that they had seemed lower from a distance and he agreed there was no way he could climb over them. But he then remembered he had seen a large ladder next to the church entrance, and he ran towards the spot. Not much later he came back, carrying an old wooden ladder which looked as if it was rotting, and he placed it against the wall.

'Eh,' you said nervously, 'this ladder looks like it hasn't been used in ages. I don't think this is a good idea, you might fall and get hurt-'

'Darling,' Sihtric said sternly and placed one finger against your lips to silence you, 'I really appreciate your concern about my wellbeing, but I will be fine.'

'I just really think you shouldn't-,' you stopped talking when Sihtric ignored you and began to climb the ladder.

You stood back, watching with your hands on your hips. The ladder made several creaking noises as Sihtric continued to climb higher, and you gasped while he held his breath when he suddenly broke one wooden step. He clung onto the ladder, his heart beating out of his chest, and you both watched the rotten piece of wood fall down.

'See!' you hissed, 'stop climbing! Just get back here!'

'It's only like two more steps and then I can look over the wall,' Sihtric argued, 'I'm not giving up now, so just shut up and let me do this!'

'Sihtric!' you yelled with a whisper, 'you are such a little sh-' you were hushed by the loud sound of snapping wood, and before you could blink you heard a heavy thump and saw Sihtric with his back on the grass in front of you, and he groaned.

'Holy shit!' you gasped and crouched down next to him, 'see! I fucking told you!'

'Yeah, I'm fine, thanks for asking!' he snarled and tried to push himself up, but hissed in pain and reached for his right arm as he did.

'Sure, fine my ass,' you grumbled, 'pretty sure you broke something, we better get you to a hospital. Nice one!'

Sihtric kept telling you he was fine and managed to stumble to the car, but when he moaned in agony as he tried to open the car door you pushed him towards the passenger side and drove him to the nearest hospital. In the hospital you got proven right, because Sihtric had broken his arm and it was to be placed in a cast.

'Well,' you said as you both looked at the x-ray photo of his broken bone, 'at least now you'll have a clear idea of what that stolen arm should look like.'

A few weeks had passed and you finally got a lead on the stolen relics. All traces seemed to lead back to a guy named Aethelhelm, and you were staking out again at a different church this time, hoping to catch him.

'I just don't get it,' Sihtric mumbled as he watched the church, 'why would someone who works for the church steal those things?'

'Because they are worth a lot of money,' you sighed.

'But doesn't it go against their beliefs?'

'I guess. But this guy is a wolf in sheep's clothing. The more relics he has, the more he can sell, the more money he will get and that will give him more power.'

'I guess that makes sense,' Sihtric agreed.

'Maybe you should've fallen on your head,' you snickered and poked the cast around his broken arm, 'it might've knocked some sense into you.'

'What exactly is your problem with me?' Sihtric suddenly snapped.

You scoffed, refusing to answer. You were convinced Sihtric knew you didn't like him very much because of that first impression at the coffee shop. Sure, he wasn't all that bad once you got to know him better, but first impressions always last. And he simply wasn't the brightest sometimes, which annoyed you as well. Sihtric wasn't as serious as you while on the job, and you often struggled with his jokes and playful nature.

'I don't have a problem with you,' you muttered.

'You clearly do, lady.'

'You clearly have a problem with me,' you hissed, 'so what is it? Do you have a crush on me or something?'

'Excuse me?' Sihtric spat, 'oh, I see… so that's your problem.'

'What?'

'You,' he grinned, 'you have a crush on me.'

'No I don't!'

'You totally do, I can see you're blushing.'

'Shut up!' you huffed.

'Oh, you so wanna kiss me,' Sihtric laughed, 'don't lie.'

'I don't!

'You do.'

'I really don't,' you gritted your teeth.

'Why not?'

'Because why would I?!' you yelled and threw your hands up.

'You're just afraid,' Sihtric taunted.

'What? Afraid to catch a disease?' you gave him a disgusted look, 'yeah, I am afraid.'

'No,' he squinted his eyes and leaned in, 'you're afraid you'll like it.'

'Oh, please,' you scowled, 'as if you'd be that good.'

'I might be.'

'I doubt it.'

'You know you wanna find out,' Sihtric smiled slyly and winked.

'Will you shut the fuck up if we'd kiss?'

'Maybe.'

You stared at Sihtric, your eyes were burning and your jaw clenched tightly. He knew how to grind your gears and it irritated you beyond words. You just wanted to do your job, but this man kept being a nuisance and distracting you from what's actually important right now. 

'Fine,' you sighed, as if nothing suddenly mattered anymore, 'let's get this over then.'

You grabbed onto Sihtric's leather jacket and pulled him towards you, your lips crashed into each other and awkwardly locked for a few long seconds. Then Sihtric moved his cast-free arm and brought his hand up to your face, cupping your cheek. He pulled away just enough to capture your lips more gently, and it allowed him to deepen the kiss with ease, his tongue stroking slowly and sensually against yours, making your knees weak and your head empty for a moment. Your hands seemed to have a life of their own, as they roamed up towards his neck, and then your fingers were suddenly tangled in his curls. His facial hair pricked pleasantly against your face with each movement Sihtric made, and you slowly became oblivious to your surroundings. You only heard the blood rush in your ears and the sound of his slow and heavy breaths along with the sounds of your lips and tongues. You felt your heartbeat in your throat and a warmth slowly spread through your entire body when you felt his hand move up to the back of your neck. You grabbed his face with one hand while you tugged his hair with the other, earning a soft, deep moan from Sihtric which was followed by a chuckle as he slowly broke the kiss, giving you a few more open mouthed pecks and strokes of his tongue against yours before he pulled away slightly and looked at you.

'Not so snappy anymore now, are you?' he murmured against your lips.

'You're the worst detective I ever worked with,' you breathed.

'Oh, yeah?' Sihtric smiled against your lips, then sucked your lower lip and gave you another soft peck, 'as are you.'

'Do you ever shut the hell up?' you mumbled, lightheaded.

'You know… you can't talk to a detective like that,' he said softly, lips still touching, 'someone needs to take care of that attitude of yours.'

'Yes, detective,' you whispered and smiled, to which Sihtric hummed and pulled you in for another long kiss.

You had only wanted him to shut up. Yes, maybe you thought he was pretty hot too and the kiss was great, but you would never give him the satisfaction of telling him that he was indeed a good kisser. When you started to come back to your senses again you abruptly pulled away, remembering you were on a stake out, and you wiped your lips with the sleeve of your hoodie while Sihtric sat back and wiped his mouth with his hand before he looked at the church again.

'Well,' you said nonchalantly, 'I guess it was okay,' you lied, the colour of your cheeks and your dazed eyes betraying your true feelings.

If only Sihtric wasn't as pleasantly overwhelmed as you were, he would've noticed you struggled to compose yourself again, indicating that you absolutely downplayed the effect the kiss actually had on you, but his cheeks had slightly reddened too and he wouldn't let you see it.

'Anyway,' you cleared your throat, 'we… we should call it a night. We've been here for hours and there hasn't been any activity-'

'Wait a minute,' Sihtric interrupted, 'there was a black van parked near the church for as long as we've been here. And it's… it's gone.'

'So how exactly did you two manage to miss out on the only moving vehicle in hours?!' Beocca asked, his face reddened with anger while he paced back and forth in his office.

'Well… we… I don't know,' you mumbled.

You and Sihtric had agreed that there was no way you were going to tell Beocca that you could've caught Aethelhelm in the act if you hadn't been sticking your tongues down each other's throat during the stake out the night before.

'We're sorry,' Sihtric added a mumble of his own.

'This is just… it's unbelievable!' Beocca yelled, 'I have no other choice than taking you two off the case. This is just ridiculous! Staking out for hours and somehow missing-' he paused in an attempt to calm his anger, 'Detectives Finan and Uhtred will take over the case, they've been looking into the other stolen relics already and have made better progress!'

'No, please!' you tried, but to no avail as Beocca continued his outburst.

'And you two will be sorting old files in the basement for the next few weeks! You imbeciles!' he snarled and left his office.

'This is all your fucking fault,' you punched Sihtric's casted arm, and he groaned.

Not much later you and Sihtric were going through piles of old dusty files, deciding if they could be destroyed or put in the records room. You had been furious with Sihtric, but your anger slowly made way for sadness. Even if he annoyed you, you had grown fond of him and you couldn't deny that the past few weeks with him had been exciting. You blamed him for being taken off the case, but you were just as guilty as he was and you felt the need to apologise.

'Don't worry about it,' Sihtric replied, 'it happened. At least we weren't fired.'

'Being taken off a case is worse,' you said softly.

Sihtric didn't know what to say, and you looked away when suddenly your disappointment took over and you began to weep silently. Sihtric didn't notice it as he was going through the files, and when you sniffled several times he thought you just needed to sneeze.

'Do you need a tissue?' he asked, 'it's really dusty in here. Maybe you should blow your nose before you sneeze all over these fil-'

'I don't need to fucking sneeze!' you yelled desperately through your tears.

'Oh,' Sihtric gasped as he realised you were crying, 'what's wrong?'

'Everything!' you cried, 'I worked so hard to get where I am, to work on big cases as a woman in a station that's filled with men. Men who fuck up all the time and no one even cares. But I made one mistake, which wasn't even a life threatening one, and see where it landed me! It's so unfair!' you sobbed.

Sihtric clicked his tongue and sighed, feeling bad for you. He dropped the files on the floor next to him and crawled past the file boxes towards you.

'Come here,' Sihtric said softly and carefully pulled you in his arms, his cast resting on your shoulders, 'it's okay. I mean… I can't say that I understand it, because I don't, but I do know you're a good detective. Beocca was pretty harsh with his decision, but then we all know how much of a religious man he is, so I guess this case is just personal to him,' he reasoned, 'this is only temporary, you will get another case again, I'm sure of it.'

'How do you know?' you sniffled in his arms, your head resting against his chest while he leaned his chin on top of your head.

'Because you're smarter than most people in this station, and Beocca knows that too. I'm sorry I riled you up, and I'm sorry I was so rude in that coffee shop. I had no reason to say those things, I was just stressed about this new job and I took it out on the wrong people. I know you miss your previous partner, and I'm sorry he was transferred. I'll see what I can do,' Sihtric sighed, 'you know, maybe I can swap with him or something, and get him back here.'

You looked up at Sihtric and he wiped your tears.

'Would you really do that?'

'You know… I've really grown to like you,' he smiled sweetly, 'so if you want me to try and transfer, I would for you, even if it would sadden me.'

You exhaled sharply and then shrugged at him as you sat back. You mindlessly began to doodle on his arm cast while you went over your thoughts. Sihtric just looked at you, trying to figure out what you were thinking and not being aware you were drawing on his cast.

'I don't know,' you sniffled after a moment, 'maybe I don't want you to transfer anymore.'

You smiled faintly at Sihtric before you got up, telling him you needed some air and a coffee. Sihtric said you should take a short break and that he'd stay in the basement, sorting files, which you agreed to and promised you'd be back in ten minutes. Sihtric watched you walk out the door, and when he reached out to pick up some files he noticed his cast, and he smiled at the little heart you had drawn on it just yet.

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#sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #tlk #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #the last kingdom fic #sihtric fic #sihtric au #happy saturday 🖤

[trulycertain]

Tedium

A study of early game Lora and Astarion, and the absolute mess that was. Developing mostly-good bard Tav/Astarion, with so much arguing. 1.6k.

Lora has always found small, petty bastards boring - the kinds who tried to make her and so many others' lives a misery in the city. They've just got so little imagination. Their excuses are all the same, it's just a matter of scale. Even if they pretend to be misguidedly noble, the self-interest slips through eventually. Evil in stories is grand, elegant, tragic. It has really good tailoring. Evil in real life? It's banal, grey or mud-soaked, and seems to take place in offices half the time, for some reason. Good, that cheap, trite thing in too many stories? In reality, it's a sudden sparkling surprise every time it happens; Baldur's Gate is not a place known for being gentle. People are more beautiful when they do a good thing. The sky is brighter, the grass just a little bit greener.

Astarion is small, in the sense of both generosity of spirit and actual stature - it's not her fault that she's six foot two and that he gets so irritated when she sees something over the top of his head. She's not doing it on purpose. Mostly.

He's incredibly petty. (“Oh, I'm sure she's just a delight at parties,” he says of the druid guard who's stopped them at least twice, thinking they might be refugees. “Refugee? Me? Have they seen this thread? Have I a pair of horns and an air of pathetic desperation? Just because I didn't know that dirt-encrusted branches were apparently ‘in’ this week...” Finger-quotes and everything. Lora might have snorted at that. He catches her; he raises an eyebrow in response, but with the tiniest pleased tilt to his mouth.)

And he's definitely a bastard. He's happy to leave the tieflings to die - happy to leave anyone to, it seems. She has to take a deep breath at that, but there are the pressing time constraints of soon turning into a mindflayer; no wonder he wants to get straight to healers and the creche. Good intentions won't mean much if you turn into a squid mid-fight and end up killing or kidnapping all the refugees anyway. She tries hard to bear that in mind while he sighs melodramatically, as if helping people is an inconvenience that might lead to his breaking a nail, and she glares at him. He delights in a holy relic being stolen - but with something like genuine approval of the tiefling child's bravery, somewhere under all that. And he's not wrong that all this self-righteousness about not interfering in nature is a bit rich when you're very intentionally turning people out to the mercy of raiders. But that's all he's right about.

A small, petty bastard. All that's true, and real. So why does she keep talking to him? Why isn't she bored? Angry, most of the time, and amused, sometimes, but not bored.

If Lora knows one thing, it's a narrative. Retellings wear grooves in the dirt for a reason; it feels like there's a way some stories have to wrap up. She knows exactly how it would have ended if she'd met Astarion before the tadpole. A cruel vampire too well-oiled by half, who seemed to delight in death and blood? One of them would have ended up dead, the other with a twist of satisfaction - his at having survived another day and, as a bonus, shut up a pompous hero type; hers at having taken someone that dangerous out of the world, even if she'd have completely missed the master pulling the strings.

Later, when she realises she's been imagining completely the wrong backstory for him, she thinks of the Grove again. Of being free for the first time in two hundred years, finally able to walk in the sun, and losing it in minutes because your leader ran headfirst into a battle.

Hells, she hates when he almost makes sense. It makes her dust off her moral compass for a quick check.

Still, he meanders up to her - to poke her, to tease and taunt, but sometimes just… to ask questions. Feeling for her weak spots, probably, but there's a cheerful curiosity in his eyes that seems genuine when he asks her how she learned to play the lyre, what her other instruments are. It's a rare moment of peace in between their mutual arguments. He plays it off soon enough with some comment about her being good with her hands and an eyebrow-waggle, but the questions were real. He prods her to see what falls out and she… lets him. If anything, she does the same. And she still isn't bored.

He delights in bloodshed and mayhem; he drinks deeply of death just the way he does of life. She’s caught him laughing under his breath when someone falls to the floor, caught him licking the blood off his daggers when he thought she wasn’t looking - that just got her a red-stained grin and an obscene widening of his arms like he was inviting her to look. He makes jokes about killing gnomes. He makes jokes about killing her, though those are actually funny, and he's right about having to face what will happen if they change; it's best to do it with a laugh. It's also oddly forthright, oddly brave, for a man who's never been forthright in his life. He beams at her when she plays along, like she’s just given him a gift, morbidly pleased at speaking of his own beheading. Death and bloodshed and mayhem, yes.

Except.

Except when she’s watching a young tiefling girl about to be bitten by a snake, or pretending to offer the goblins’ general the tiefling camp on a platter. His eyes harden, in that moment, even while his mouth twitches and he makes amused, contemptuous quips: like he’s waiting for her to make the obvious choice. And even as he makes approving noises at the thought of the goblins’ victory, even as he castigates her for her soppy kindness…

Cruelty would be the obvious, the easy choice. It would be exactly what he expects. It would also be, she’s certain more and more when she feels those red eyes on her, the boring choice. To him, too. Even if he doesn't want to admit it.

She's always had a good instinct for people, so her mentor used to say. It got taught to her early, taught her when a glassing was coming or she was about to get stiffed on payment at a tavern or just how to work a crowd.

Stories in well-worn grooves. Two hundred years of death and desperate self-service and making sure everyone's expendable but you, over and over again. The same narrative shoved down your throat for two hundred years.

The shape of it is there in her mind, sketched out but not detailed yet: he knows cruelty like the back of his hand, partaking and receiving. He can sleepwalk his way through it. There’s a delight when he speaks of it, an amusement in his eyes, but it’s the same as when he spoke of being a magistrate back in the city, it’s all very tedious, lording his power over her, pointed and urbane and far, far too well-rehearsed. The same way she looks over her shoulder and catches him flirting with their companions, incorrigible, a lazy, leering lean closer in his tone even as he keeps walking beside them. There’s real amusement there at getting to play with words, at making them uncomfortable, and yet... I saw you mouthing that one to yourself in the mirror earlier, Shadowheart points out, when he tries a particularly trite line on her. And Lora thinks, Exactly.

He bristles and shouts at her and makes drawled comments about how much of a drip she is. She agrees to find an elderly woman’s missing daughter; behind her, she hears him sigh and not even bother to hide it, the rolling of his eyes entirely audible. They get back to camp and he asks her, “This will take us closer to understanding the tadpole how, exactly?” He hates every minute of it, hates her - but there’s a wildfire in him, searing bright and unrehearsed and fascinatingly real, when he snarls at her and melodramatically turns his back to her and calls her tedious.

She bought it at first, the way he called her that. She was boring, certainly, and he was a self-serving shallow ass - that part was true, even if he was lying through his teeth about so many things. He got to stay because they dearly needed a lockpicker and archer as good as him, and because she was too reluctantly herself to let him turn into a mindflayer alone, even if she should have. As he said that second night: you need someone to put you out of your misery.

And then she realised precisely what it was, behind all the bared teeth and callous suggestions: he’s waiting.

He waits for her to slip and kill someone because it’s easier, or say that he deserved his master’s treatment. She laughs sometimes at his sense of humour - less dark, more Underdark - and takes precisely none of his suggestions. He waits for her to be a humourless paladin type who crushes him underfoot or turns out to be a stiff fraud wearing mail, and she cackles at his muttered observations, happily humiliates the little tyrants they see on the road along with him. The moments their eyes meet and she sees the silent vicious glee in his, too, the both of them knowing pride comes before a very long fall, they almost understand each other. She lies and cheats the false servants of Tyr before killing them anyway, because they were going to drag an innocent tiefling back to the Hells, and sees his reluctantly impressed eyebrows out of the corner of her eye - and then she gives the money to refugees while he sighs. He snarls, I was a slave and waits for her to order him about or step over him; the best she can tell, she treats him just the same. As they keep to the road and he realises that the mask he’s been trying to pry away is just her face, the easy, dulled cynicism in his eyes is starting to be replaced by something else: a confused, furious surprise. Maybe the first surprise he’s had in two centuries.

She’s learned to read him a little better, over these weeks on the road. She’s driving him mad. He’s incandescently angry with and baffled by her in turns. But she doesn’t believe him when he says he finds her tedious.

#astarion x tav #Astarion #astarion ancunin #lora mctavish #Baldur's Gate 3 #Oh god they're a disaster

[a-queer-seminarian]

sigh. i'm so tired of dreams where i'm somehow back at my childhood church and trying to get out of there before i'm recognized and yelled at / attacked. i dream some iteration of this a few times a month.

they are interesting dreams though, because of how they shift and change.

sometimes the church looks like it does now, but more often it looks like it did when i was a kid / up through high school — they redid the entire sanctuary building while i was in undergrad (which is quite fitting narratively lol, that the building itself was demolished and remade while i was undergoing huge changes in myself off at college, so that what i returned to was never quite Familiar, an uncanny valley version of the place i loved most as a child)

the changes the church underwent:

they carefully removed the altar, crucifix, tabernacle, stained glass windows and tore down the old building, then placed all those treasured items in the new, larger sanctuary.

(a fun thing about that altar: it has relics of Felicity and Perpetua inside it, i.e. THE sapphic Saints)

The pews went from two straight rows to having some diagonal rows on the sides.

I want to say the floor is stone now instead of the old burgundy carpet that i remember so well growing up, and that is present in my parents' wedding photos

There are still the small gold fonts of holy water at the side doors, but the main entrance boasts a whole holy water fountain now which is pretty cool

all that statues and images of Jesus and co are, of course, white people. as it was as i grew up, so it is now. i just notice it way more now than i did then

my favorite addition is to one side, a shrine to Our Lady of the Wayside, which i wrote about years ago. I don't know what significance she has to whomever decided to give her space at St. Raphael, but her name alone is so queer — she's there with those who are left behind on the wayside, forgotten or abandoned or unable to keep up.

Sometimes in my dreams the old and the new tangle up, so that i'll exit the new sanctuary and find myself in the old gym, or the old behind-the-scenes space where i'd go to change into my altar serving alb, ready the candles, pray with the priest and other servers before Mass began. (I can't remember what the new behind-space looks like; i only ever went in there a handful of times. So it never shows up in my dreams)

Or in some of my dreams the church looks completely different from reality, expanded into a cathedral — last night the sanctuary looked similar to what it used to on its ground floor, but it had a second level wrapped around the sides for even more pews, with an enormous statue of Raphael in the very back watching over everything.

Most of the time I'm hiding. Fleeing. Trying to escape unseen. Sometimes it's the middle of Mass and i somehow accidentally ended up there? i'm hiding my face trying to hustle to the exit but they're all locked so i have to play it cool, act casual. Or else i'm lost in those back rooms with the albs and such; they've become labyrinthine and i keep passing the doorless spaces where they lead straight onto the raised space with the altar; i can see Father T preaching at the pulpit and my body goes cold fearing he'll turn his head and see me so i hurry on, still hopelessly lost

One time i spent the whole time kneeling before the place to the side of the altar in the old sanctuary building where the tabernacle used to be. Then when i was in high school they moved the tabernacle to be at a more central place right behind the altar, and moved statues of the Holy Family to fill its old space. In my dream the Holy Family and the tabernacle were there, and I knelt in prayer before them. I can't remember what I prayed. Was I desperate for safety or acceptance? Was I defiant? Did I pray for those who persecuted me? I don't remember, but I sure was at it a long time

Every now and then i dream someone does recognize me — and instead of attacking me, they say it's all right. That no one is mad. That i can come back without fear. I hate that version the most because when i wake up it takes me a moment to remember that didn't really happen

#log #pentecost incident #< if you don't know all The Drama that happened at my childhood church last year that's the tag to peruse lmao #church hurt /

[sisterdivinium]

I.

War, he’d said, as if they had not just lost Shannon to it. War, as if the scars on her own body and the bruises and broken bones of her girls were due to child’s play.

But Mother Superion would obey; the cane she grips tight had taught her.

War not against the infernal hordes, but to a heretic — Jillian Salvius, scientist extraordinaire, defiler of holy relics who could not be bled dry with impunity… She would be decimated. Demons ran rampant, but she must fall.

Superion clenches her jaw. This is a distraction, dangerous folly.

… Yet this is war.

II.

She could tell those keen blue eyes had pierced through her veil as easily as her own had shredded the lab coat; where others saw enmity, their opposed species of wisdom saw equivalence. Faith, science… And one conclusion.

This fiend, this blasphemer she would have destroyed, with whose blood she would’ve dirtied her hands and the souls of her sisters, was but a woman. Intelligent, ambitious — suffering, devoted… Mother Superion might as well have hunted herself.

Jillian Salvius is no threat, not to the church.

She wonders whether this woman might forgive her for the crimes against her never committed.

III.

Jillian comes to her, as a sinner to confession.

She finds herself going to Jillian, too.

It would be indecent with any of the others; they hadn't been scarred, branded by their own hands as the two of them, they hadn't shared in enough shame as Jillian and Suzanne had.

The words sound foreign at first, but their tongue proves to have the same root.

When all slumber, they meet. Night shadows cover the open wounds and they are no longer nun or doctor or allies or enemies — only voices in the same darkness, glimmering faintly, tasting of common blood.

IV.

She is a soldier; her purpose is death. To kill — to be killed.

Mother Superion's life seeps out of her slowly rather than in the blast she had readied herself for. The pain is nothing; ignominy stings deeper.

Regrets...

Jillian's eyes analyse her, her hands travel her frantically, grip her, denying the pull of the tomb. Suzanne regrets that they waste so much energy, that she wasted so much life, that she saw so many sisters go — and now this woman would keep her.

But she cannot.

Beatrice loosens the chains.

Darkness.

Nothing.

... Light. Breath.

A daughter in her arms.

V.

... And a son made saint through the sin of sapience, a daughter's ghost left behind in the manner of a miracle.

Memories, now. Martyrs.

Suzanne's scars might have healed but still they ache. Jillian trembles and burns and breaks in her embrace. She is not used to irrevocable loss — she is not used to war.

Nor should she be, nor anyone.

Jillian had held her, refused to surrender her, so she would return the favour: in the void, there would still be love. In despair, she would still have a sister.

Common blood. A holy ritual of two — violent consubstantiation.

VI.

She would have killed her once, a target upon her heart.

But now, in darkness, baptised in their children's blood, she finds herself in her bed, underneath her, vows silenced by starving skin.

Their words had been soaked in crimson for too long — they had need of another language they could speak, a new liturgy in a godless world.

After mass, when adoration has quieted, Suzanne wakes to a hunched Jillian, veil in hand, avoiding the naked woman she has just worshipped.

"... What have I done now?"

Suzanne pulls her gently, discards the fabric, kisses her.

"Nothing I didn't want."

VII.

The carnage is done: angels are rid of their wings; the formulae that explain life were struck out and written anew; oaths were broken, oaths were sworn.

New lines are drawn, the battlefield swells, and hallowed places are no more. The devils sound the horns of holy war and tear down the icons, set hellfire on temple and laboratory alike, perverse, pitiless.

But their church stands.

Built upon forbidden land, intangible, eternal, its walls and halls were carved out of their names. Suzanne and Jillian find refuge amidst the pandemonium in one another's arms.

Not always, not only — but enough.

#warrior nun #doctor superion #warrior nun drabble #jillian salvius #mother superion #i mean each section is a drabble since each is 100 words sharp #is that 100x7 or something? i've been so out of drabble communities for so long lol #anyway. the last essay pooped me so i've been fooling around with these before i start work on the next (last?) oneshot #fun fact originally each one of the drabbles was named after one of the canonical hours #narratives and similar

[attollogame]

[ GUIDE ]: in the process of guiding the receiver through a crowded place, the sender’s hand protectively grazes against the small of their back. /// Vasilisia does this to MC. Pariah does this to MC. MC does this to Suha. MC does this to Sysba. Sysba on a good day is horrendously amused. In their mind's eye flash crowds hundredfold these, lying at their feet in worship, in fear, or in blood. Oh yes, little love, please protect them. On a bad day, Sysba is horrendous.

I hope you don't mind me rolling with this; you apologized for sending these, but I absolutely adored reading them all! Thank you! I decided to change things up and write from Sysba's POV for once so, dynamic???

[ GUIDE ]: in the process of guiding the receiver through a crowded place, the sender’s hand protectively grazes against the small of their back.

Memories hold like holy relics, wrapped in sheets of velvet and stowed away behind bulletproof walls. They are illuminated by a singular light that displays their form; you will never know the weight of them, the sensation of their touch, but you will observe in awe at the depth of history that they contain. Blood has been spilt for these relics; a thick viscera that turns browns to blacks and whites to scarlets.

Sometimes—when one least anticipates it—these relics are removed. Circumstances vary and are always rare, but even tarnished relics need repairs once in a blue moon.

Your touch is what serves as the catalyst for this incident. I don't think you consider it when your hand stretches behind you and your fingers wrap around my wrist like a bond, tethering the two of us together. I don't think you see the humor that I do at the notion of myself having to be guided through a crowd like a child on a leash.

Humans are always a source of humor. I don't operate with fear, but if I were to, I think I would monopolize this fear of loss that they all seem to have. Loss of materialistic items, loss of self, loss of those around them. You are oblivious to your own actions as you continue to prattle on ahead of me about this and that; something you saw today, something you heard, or something you wish to experience while we are out. In this comforting act, you remain blind to your own fear of loss that you're acting upon right now.

It is fortunate that I am in a mood to entertain today. I consider, as I examine your back and your neck, the vulnerabilities that you allow me to so easily exploit. Had no one ever taught you not to turn your back on those who seek your ruin? Did you grow up so blissfully that you never felt the heightened sense of adrenaline, that surge through your heart as your eyes skim treelines for movement that you swore you saw?

Times most certainly have changed. Years ago—so long now that the constellations were yet to be named—people like you would never have existed. Those who served as my protectors before were hardened; born of blight, forged in famine, warped by war and more devoted than the apostles themselves. I had to win their trust and love through bloodshed and delirium; with you, all I had to do was give a pretty smile and a few honeyed words.

Your hand squeezes my wrist. My lips curl into that very same smile as you look back, your eyes full of wonderous naivety to the thoughts passing my mind. You don't need to be privy to these; I quite like you like this, my humorous little human, and I would be dissatisfied were I to see that warmth you behold me with dashed away so fast.

I remove my hand from your grip, but I step closer in turn, resting it on your lower back instead. You glow with a content satisfaction at the gesture. Pretty smiles and honeyed words, I think, are a far better deal than the destruction my hands know.

#char:sysba #thank you!!!

[hypaalicious]

IS3 thoughts

Aiight so once again, no one asked for this so ofc I’m gonna share my opinions (story spoiler free) on the newest Integrated Strategies incarnation!

I’ve completed every ending with every squad and gotten all the collectibles already, which went MUCH faster than IS2. But as I continue to play through all the difficulty levels (yes I’m a masochist) I expect some of these thoughts to change.

OKAY LEGGO:

Best Rejection - Concentration Disorder

As a proud AFKnights kind of Doctor, I willingly subject my entire squad to this so I don’t have to think 😂

Worst Rejection - Metastatic Aberration

This can be a run-ender if it hits your cornerstone Operators 😩

Best Enlightenment - Leithanien’s Elegance

It was a toss up between this and Victoria’s Honor but since ranged units are always squishy this one gives a higher advantage

Worst Enlightenment - Columbia’s Inspiration

What am I supposed to do with a funky lil 70 bonus exp on one battle only?? 😒

Best Starting Squad - People-Oriented Squad

Having everyone cost one less Hope to recruit is kinda OP, ngl

Worst Starting Squad - Spearhead Squad

Fuck this squad forever. 🤬 The stat bonuses aren’t good enough to subject yourself to the pain of losing light on default every time you battle

Best Call of We Many - Echoes: Predation

Okay so, I am one of the few that loved Survivalist hallucinations in IS2 so yeah the ASPD boost will always win for me even if your Medics be healing like 27 HP at a time… but you don’t need to heal if you murk everything fast enough!

Worst Call of We Many - Echoes: Adaptation

When you tryna get a certain Encounter or Battle but you can’t fucking see the nodes in front of you is PEAK annoyance

Best good relic - Chivalric Commandments - New Addition

Nothing is beating the ASPD boost endorphins, sorry 🤷🏽‍♀️

Worst good relic - Sui’s Wrath

If you disagree you have never had this relic and attempted to complete Ubi bona somnia 🥲

Easiest 3rd floor boss - Course Correction

Just get you some carpet bomber DPS or a reaper guard to stall this mfkr and his lil minions; when you beat him all the hellspawns die and you are left with easy stage completion

Worst 3rd floor boss - Eternal Wrath

Saint Iberia only has one shot, but he will wipe your entire party if you don’t murk him before he comes around the bend, especially if you don’t have a fast redeploy to get rid of the radar people

Hardest battle node - Out of Control (Emergency)

Straight cancer. 😭 You gotta park everyone up at the blue boxes and pray you somehow survive the first half of the stage with all them running enraged Sarkaz fucks. Honorable mention - Ubi bona somnia (Emergency) cause WHYYYY are there two Origitant mutants here???

Easiest endgame node - Curse of Cognition

Very straightforward stage, especially if you can stun the boss to where it falls down and your melee Operators can curb stomp it

Hardest endgame node - Fate’s Favored Child

I guess since BSL in IS2 happened, the 2nd ending boss is always gonna be terribly fucking annoying. Freezing Operators each attack they do??? Straight up running to the exit in second phase and can only be hit by ranged units??? The mobs?? FUCK YOU

Hardest Encounter Battle - Business Empire?

Ngl I have not reliably beat this stage yet without major leaks because holy shit I wasn’t prepared to fight all three side characters at once! It also pops up very rarely for me due to RNG so I don’t get much practice either

Hardest relic to get - Last Refrain

Don’t talk to me about this stupid thing; I have done over 100 runs I swear and I only got this Encounter ONCE and that was after I had already gotten all endings multiple times over and my light was at like 10 or something on the run

Best improvement over IS2 - easier to unlock different ending events

There were SO MANY runs I did in IS2 that didn’t pan out because I only got one encounter out of the two I needed to open up the 3rd or 4th endings. This does not happen to me in IS3

Worst “improvement” over IS2 - not enough Encounter nodes

It’s cool to have Wonderland stuff or Dispatches or Tulip Commissions but I think the ratio is kinda off. If you’re tryna get all the relics this can be annoying cause you’ll only have a handful of Encounter modes to aim for per run

What I miss from IS2 that ain’t make it into IS3 - Shadow relic

I absolutely loved getting this relic and trying to build a squad full of nothing but temp recruitments, cause it’s not only a way to try out Operators you may not own, it makes it fun to figure out strats with the most random but maxed out group of Operators ever

Goated Operators (very subjective and general):

Goldenglow (nothing is beating her global range and relic synergy)

Horn (just her s1 alone will clear maps)

Flametail (synergy with relics that increase attack upon dodge)

Texas the Ometerosa (she trivializes most of this content especially with relics)

Pozemyoka (want to beat the 3rd ending boss in 8 seconds right from stage start? She’s your girl)

Gnosis (freezing flying Seaborn will ground them and it’s so funny to watch)

Lappland (her silence is goated, we learned this during the Stultivera Navis event)

Whisperain & Lumen (you are gonna need that status resistance especially if you are fighting The Last Knight)

Mulberry (she has higher elemental damage recovery than Honeyberry who was the MVP of IS2)

Blue Poison (her S1, especially if mastered, is unmatched. Even better than Exu)

Jaye (you will not fear the Water & Fire Union stage if you have him)

Thorns (ironically I don’t choose him UNLESS I can quickly E2 him because he’s mid without access to his S3)

Highmore (she doesn’t beat La Pluma in anything EXCEPT IS3, and I always start a run with her cause her 3-block is delicious)

#also you know what’s hard? keeping the last knight alive through your whole fucking run #cause don’t let the damn bear show up and you can’t beat him before he punches TLK out #or you gotta do a stage with Pompeii in it and it’s just spewing lava on everyone #just everything about that boss and his stage is not very fun LOL #also damn truly why is IS3 this depressing?? 😭 #none of the files are happy like???? #this up there with Children of Ursus type depression idk #also fuck that crying dog from SSS #why they put him in here? the insta stun and camoflauge combo irks me #anyway I love this mode truly I can’t wait for is4 😂 #arknights #integrated strategies

[everyonewasabird]

Brickclub 5.9.3 “A Pen Is Heavy to Him Who Lifted Fauchelevent’s Cart”

It’s awful. Valjean is dying, all his strength is gone, and the description of his face has aged 30 years almost overnight. Even alone in the apartment he’s trying to self-efface--he’s had his bed moved to the front room because he doesn’t want to take up more space than that. And he’s weak enough here that it’s become clear there isn’t any coming back from this.

He lights the candlesticks, a thing I’m not sure we’ve ever seen him actually do before. Which feels part and parcel with his tendency to treat important objects as dead relics of the past rather than part of the future, just like Cosette’s childhood mourning clothes, which he also has out. The text says the candles he lights are like the candles in a room where someone is dead.

It’s holy. But I don’t think this was the only holy use they could have had.

Fun, terrible fact: You know how this chapter ends with “At that moment there was a knock at the door”? I once bought a misprinted copy of Les Mis (FMA, I think) where the book cut off after this chapter. That was the last line.

Valjean’s awful letter is meant to be a fakeout, I think--and I think that’s telling. He starts by sounding like he’s going to set the record straight (albeit very deferentially) about how Marius is mistaken about a couple of things.

He sounds like he’s about to tell Cosette the truth.

Cosette, I bless you. I am going to explain something to you. Your husband was quite right in giving me to understand that I ought to leave; while there is some mistake in what he believed, he was right. He is very good. Always love him dearly when I am dead. Monsieur Pontmercy, always love my darling child. Cosette, this paper will be found, this is what I want to tell you,

It sounds like the introduction to everything I want from him? He’s speaking to Cosette directly, at LAST. He’s finally coming clean to the person who most needs to know what the hell just happened to her life.

...And then, of course, he starts explaining, garbled, without context, how to make glass jet jewelry. He really just wants to prove Cosette’s money is hers so Marius will let her keep it.

It’s meant to be a disappointing fakeout, I’m very sure of that. I’m less sure, of course, that Hugo is anywhere near being with me on Cosette deserving to know about his past and her own--but I’m pretty sure this letter is meant to sound like it was about to tell her at least enough to clear up what happened between him and Marius.

And it matters that his last address is to Cosette, not to her husband. I don’t know what it means because Hugo is super weird about Cosette, but it feels important. The chapter even references how he’s by the same mirror where her blotter blabbed her secrets to him--and it feels almost like a hint of an idea that the two of them might be better at communicating through writing than they were out loud. It also feels like mirror associations we’ve had before, like the mirror for testing the breath of the dead which Simplice used to show him his hair had turned white. That mirror foreshadowed the death of Fantine, and this one foreshadows Valjean’s own.

That Valjean flinches and can’t go through with telling the story... it’s hard to call it a failure, he’s sick and his rambling is a symptom of illness, among other things, but it’s meant to be a sign of the sheer wrongness of the place where he is. He’s reduced to believing the only thing that matters justifying his monetary worth to people with more money and power than he he has, the same way Fantine did at the depth of her despair and illness, because that’s always how misérables are judged.

#brickclub #lm 5.9.3 #:(

[brandwhorestarscream]

Oooh, just go for any and all timelines you'd find interesting for the son-in-law ask? I'd love to hear any of them!

I'll just go down the line then!! :D

So, timeline 1 is canon: Galvatron and Terminus are dead long, long before Megatronus ever even meets Orion Pax. Terminus dies from infection after losing his legs in a mining accident, and Galvatron dies in the gladiator pits after a rigged match.

Timeline 2, the Destructicon timeline, Megatron dies when he's the equivalent of like. 2 months old. So that's out

Timeline 3, the self imposed exodus. Because the warframes abandoned cybertron about a 100 million years ago, Sentinel Prime was never assassin mated: i.e. he's still alive and kicking so Orion isn't ever selected for Primehood. In this one, he and Megatron don't meet until they're both far, far into adulthood--roughly where the first season of Transformers Prime starts--and ol Megs is actually in a committed relationship with someone else. Any guesses as to whom? (It's not Soundwave, though they did date for quite awhile)

Timeline 4 is where we actually get our first look at Megop! Big bad is still the corrupt Primacy and the Senate, so while Orion may never become the Prime in name, he's still a beloved leader of the resistance. Except this time 🤭 he and Megatron are on the same side, leading together as one. In this timeline, Galvatron and Terminus fled from Kaon with their sparkling after being warned of the horrible future by Galvatron-2: Megatronus and Orion met when they were children, and were close friends all while growing up. To be honest, those two were the absolute last ones to figure out they were in love: everyone and their carrier and also their turbohound knew they were going to end up together. In TL4, Galvatron and Terminus have watched Orion grow up alongside their son and are very fond of him: they're perfectly supportive of their relationship and probably also had a bet going on about how long it would take for them to realize their feelings.

Now, timeline 5... here's where we get into the really complicated stuff. In this one, the Senatorial system is abolished before war can ever break out, and that includes the Prime as a figurehead. This is a timeline where all of the civil rights issues are solved peacefully: the Matrix is returned to the gods' Acolytes for safe keeping as a holy relic, and as there's no war nor anymore Primal figurehead, the Matrix isn't called upon to take a new host.

Orion and Megatron meet when they're teenagers-to-young adults, and this is the one with the rapunzel-esque situation for Megatron. Except instead of a tower, he's kept secluded within the walls of Iacon's main Temple of Primus (it makes sense it context I swear, but that's a whole other post of its own). Galvatron keeps him confined out of fear for his life: he's lived through so many lives and has been visited by his previous selves so often it's made him incredibly paranoid and obsessive. Isolation is his greatest love: keep Megatronus away from anything and anyone that could hurt him, sequestered in one of the safest buildings on the planet. As a holy place of worship and frequented by the Chosen Ones of the gods (aka the Acolytes) the Temple is under constant watch from the Primal Vanguard. No one gets in if they're not supposed to be there. It's safe. Megatronus has never set foot outside since being brought in as a sparkling and is extremely sheltered: cue Orion getting dragged there against his will for a research project and falling helm over pedes for this pretty holy virgin type.

...Again. I promise you it makes sense in context. I'll sexualize my religious trauma as much as I want tyvm lmfao 😂

ANYWAY. The first time Galvatron meets Orion it's hate at first sight: via several little misunderstandings he thinks Orion is an invader in the Temple trying to hurt his only child and kinda goes ballistic. Even after everything has settled down and he's knows Megatron is safe, he still despises him. He wants the little upstart to stay far, far away from his baby. Wants everyone to stay away from his baby, really. No one is safe. No one can be trusted. It takes a long, long time for him to be even slightly ok with Orion's presence, and even longer for him to accept it when a relationship does bloom between them.

Terminus, on the other servo, quietly adores Orion. Megatronus really only has one friend growing up in the Temple: the only son of a rather religious Senator, little Shockwave. But he can't visit often so their boy rarely gets to speak with peers his age, and it makes him happy to see Megatronus interacting with another youngling. Orion is polite and sweet and genuinely a good kid, seeing them spend time together warms his old spark. He's really not at all surprised when Orion presents his first courting gift, and gives the young mech his blessing to pursue his only child.

Timeline 6 diverges pretty late and much of TL5's canon carries over. This timeline split comes when they're already married adults, so there's no change there

Timeline 7 is just. Universal oblivion: there is no more universe. So uh... moot point

I hope you enjoyed this! I hope I answered your question ok. I know I didn't exactly touch on High Lord Protector stuff, but honestly it doesn't ever really crop up in Hindsight. I can say, independent of timelines and individual canons, they'd be very proud to see their son ascend to such a position, but would also be scared to death. That's such a big change, after all! And a dangerous position to take on 🥺 they worry about their baby

#hindsight au #megop #megatron #orion pax

[egharcourt]

Cain’s Testimony, by E. G. Harcourt

We all know how the story goes. Two siblings— one was a dove, the other a raven. Disaster.

Two souls were broken that night.

Only one left standing.

//

My biggest crime, I believe, was being born Adam’s son.

When I till the farmlands I am reminded of my mother’s scowl, Just like your father, she’d complain. I see the resemblance when I look down at my filthy hands, covered in the same mud and grime that made us. No debate here. From dust we came, to dust we will depart.

Abel treads the fields like their feet will never touch the ground.

Abel the innocent lamb. Abel the innocent lamb whose hands are slathered with the blood of innocent lambs.

If you want to be closer to God, the first rule is that you forget where you came from, forget where you belong. Mother brings her infant to the altar to be baptized. Before her child is taken by the holy waters, she lifts it high above her, towards stained glass windows with iconographs of weeping angels and agonized saints, and whispers:

May the Word of the Lord inhibit your every waking thought. May your life be surrendered to fulfilling His intent. May your own voice always be negligible, like a silent cry against the raging wind.

//

When Abel dies, they scarcely bleed. I lie alone on a hospital bed.

When Abel dies they leave no body behind; not a physical trace, nor a fragment of bone, nor a material relic. But I know Abel has been laid to gentle rest, sleeping in perpetual peace in the soil.

All I know is, when Abel dies they put the blame on me.

Now and then I’d pass by a church, and wonder if I could go in and find God right at the pew where He left me. Or I left Him. I try not to remind myself of my mother’s prayer of devotion on the day she brought me to the altar as  a child, lest her sorrow gnaws at my heart like an untamed beast.

Mama tell me, when you look at me, would you see the face of

a boy who shed his sibling’s blood / or your golden child who bled out on the floor?

And so I’d say, this could be a holy sacrifice if sacrifices were an expedient promise. If there was one way of liberating us from the pain of being something we’ll never truly be. If I were Abel’s keeper and could save our souls from becoming wanderers from our flesh, untethered…

But Abel dies in the end, always will. We are covered in blood, always will be. That’s just how our story goes on.

#my poetry #trans poetry #trans artwork #creative writing #writing #tw religious guilt #lgbtq #queer poetry #original content #original writing #original poem #writers and poets #writers of tumblr #me being Ethel Cain core #poetry #cain and abel #my work

[amazing-spiderling]

fic writer asks: 1. What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

25. What other websites or resources do you use most often when you write?

I'm going to be a little cheaty- since there's two fandoms I've written a chunk for, I'd leave it up to the reader as to which they'd prefer, but they both have a lot in common.

If someone was of the Metal Gear persuasion, I'd tell them to read "Rat in a Foxhole", which is a story that consumed my brain and I think I was smashing out a chapter a day or something, because I was SO INSPIRED by a piece of artwork (itself, an album redraw) that my brain was on fire and the only way to get it out was to put the words on the screen. The fic has a bit to do with some information we get from MGS 5, specifically that Huey had intended for his son Hal to be a child mech pilot (the pilots needed to be small because of the limitations of the size of the cockpit). My brain immediately got to wondering about what would happen to such a child pilot once they grew and "aged out" of the program (or the program shut down because wtf). Then I saw @polmcarts artwork of a version of Hal and Dave meeting in some kind of bootcamp and the plot was born.

It's a sort of... meditative fic? I often imagine my stories as screenplays, and if it was viewed in that way, there would be a lot of long silences, detail shots, vast open landscapes etc. It does, of course, include a drawn out winter arc because I'm that bitch, and it's got a few twists and turns before (of course) ultimately ending on a hopeful note.

Likewise "The Man in the Mask" is a Spideypool AU that envisions an alternate meeting, and one of the characters not being forthcoming with who they are and why they're there. This one was another story that was really burning a hole in my brain, although it took me a lot longer to get it out. Having a little Marvel familiarity (with mutants and the legacy virus in particular) helps, but I've had people tell me that I did a good enough of a job explaining the concept in the fic that they weren't too lost. This one reads a bit like a "bottle episode" with the two characters more or less trapped in a single apartment and making the best of it. (I guess you could say Dave and Hal were trapped in the boot camp in the first one, so there's that.) For a story about Wade and Peter, this one also has a lot of introspection and quiet moments before a few things bubble over.

Just like the first story, this one had people screaming at me before they finished off the last chapter, which I think is a bit of a feather in my cap as a writer, it means I sold the drama and brought things to a satisfying conclusion. I call both of these some of my "weird ones" because they're extremely niche AUs that I wrote for myself, so it really makes me happy when they ping with people. I wish I had ideas like these more often.

17. I kind of have a bug in my brain about doing a fantasy adjacent Earth-65 AU featuring "The Merry Janes" and I guess AUs of AUs counts as niche... Oh, god and I really want to write a 616 or NMCU (or combo) one about Matt and Foggy being academic rivals and complaining about each other online anonymously and becoming friends (and more) without realizing. I was watching a compilation of 90's/2000's anime intros and the beginning of "His and Her Circumstances" started spooling little ideas in my head. And now that I'm on a roll, my brain is like "Lol what if Kamikaze Kaitou Jeanne AU" where Matt is a "holy thief" stealing/exorcising relics and Foggy is on the side of the law trying to bring him in sfdkdsjflj And of course there's the Madoka E-65 AU I want to flesh out at some point, but that might be a better comic than story. Moral of the story is, Anime: Not Even Once.

25. thesaurus.com LOL I don't actually do a lot of looking at resources when I'm actually writing and I don't have a lot of "go to" pages for things, it's kind of random. I will do searches for things like "what year was this thing invented", but I don't have a bookmarked tab of "popular weapons in ancient china and how to use them" or anything like that. I guess I use Youtube a lot to listen to vapor/chillwave mixes while I write, is that anything? I guess a resource I use is the sprintbot in discord (and my fellow server members) to help get my brain to focus. I keep meaning to try that website that has little doodads on it to help adhd brains focus on writing but i keep forgetting.

#thanks for the ask #sorry i got chatty lol #longpost

[orthodoxydaily]

Saints&Reading: Wednesday, September 6, 2023

august 24_september 6

THE APPEARANCE OF THE MOST HOLY MOTHER OF GOD TO THE MONK SERGEI OF RADONEZH:

Late at night, St. Sergius was reading an Akathist to the Mother of God. Having finished his habitual rule, he sat down to rest a bit, but suddenly he said to his disciple, St. Micah, "Be alert, my child, for we shall have a wondrous visitation." Scarcely had he uttered these words than a voice was heard: "The All-Pure One approaches!"

St. Sergius rushed from the cell to the entrance, and suddenly it was illumined by a bright light, brighter than the sun. He beheld nearby in imperishable glory the Mother of God, accompanied by the Apostles Peter and John. Unable to bear such a vision, St. Sergius reverently prostrated himself before the Mother of God.

She said to him, "Fear not, My chosen one! I have come to visit you. Your prayer for your disciples and your monastery has been heard. Do not be troubled, for your habitation shall prosper, not only in your lifetime, but also after your departure to God. I will be with your monastery, supplying its needs abundantly, and protecting it." Having said this, the Mother of God disappeared.

For a long time St. Sergius was in an inexpressible rapture, and having come to himself, he went to St. Micah. "Tell me, Father," he asked, "what is the meaning of this miraculous vision? My soul nearly left my body from terror!" But St. Sergius was silent, and only his luminous face spoke of the spiritual joy which he had experienced. "Wait a bit," he said finally to his disciple, "my soul also trembles because of this wondrous vision."

After a while St. Sergius summoned two of his disciples, Sts. Isaac and Simon, and shared with them the vision and the promise of the Theotokos. They all sang a Molieben to the Mother of God. St. Sergius spent the remaining part of the night unable to sleep, calling to mind the divine vision.

The appearance of the Mother of God at the cell of St. Sergius, at the present place of the Serapionov Chamber, was on one of the Fridays of the Nativity Fast in 1385. The commemoration of the visit of the Mother of God to the Trinity Monastery and of Her promise was reverently kept by the disciples of St. Sergius.

On July 5, 1422 the holy relics of St. Sergius were uncovered, and soon after an icon of the Appearance of the Mother of God was placed on his grave. The icon was honored with great reverence.

In 1446, Great Prince Basil was besieged at the Trinity Monastery by the armies of Princes Demetrius Shemyaka and John of Mozhaisk. He barricaded himself in the Trinity Cathedral, and when he heard that he was being sought, he took the icon of the Appearance of the Mother of God and with it met Prince John at the southern church doors, saying: "Brother, we kissed the Life-Creating Cross and this icon in this church of the Life-Creating Trinity at this grave of the Wonderworker Sergius, that we would neither intend nor wish any evil to any of our brethren among ourselves. Now I do not know no what will happen to me here."

Monk Ambrose reproduced the icon of the Appearance of the Mother of God to St. Sergius, carved in wood in the mid-fourteenth century.

In 1552, Tsar Ivan the Terrible took the icon of the Appearance of the Mother of God on his Kazan Campaign. The most famous icon, written in 1588, was by the steward of the Trinity-Sergiev Lavra, Eustathius Golovkin, on a board from the wooden reliquary of St. Sergius, which was taken apart in 1585 when the relics of St. Sergius were placed in a silver reliquary.

Through this icon, the Mother of God repeatedly protected the Russian army. In 1657, Tsar Aleksei Mikhailovich took it on the Polish campaign. In 1703, the icon took part in all the military campaigns against Swedish King Charles XII, and in 1812 Metropolitan Platon sent it to the Moscow military levy. The icon was carried in the Russo-Japanese War of 1905, and during World War I it was at the quarters of the supreme commander-in-chief in 1914.

A church was built over the grave of St. Micah and at its consecration on December 10, 1734 was named in honor of the Appearance of the Most Holy Theotokos and the holy Apostles to St. Sergius of Radonezh.

On September 27, 1841 the church was restored and consecrated by Metropolitan Philaret of Moscow who said: "By the grace of the All-Holy and All-Sacred Spirit the restoration of this temple is now accomplished, fashioned before us in honor and memory of the Appearance of our Lady the Most Holy Theotokos to our holy God-bearing Father Sergius, to which St. Micah was also an eyewitness."

The commemoration of this grace-bearing event is rightly marked by the consecration of a church, however, this whole monastery is a memorial of that miraculous visit. Therefore, its purpose in the continuing centuries was the fulfillment of the promise of the heavenly Visitor: "This place shall endure."

In memory of the visit of the Mother of God at the Trinity-Sergiev Monastery, an Akathist to the Most Holy Theotokos is sung on Fridays, and a special service in honor of the appearance of the Mother of God is celebrated at the monastery on August 24, on the second day of the leave-taking of the Feast of the Dormition of the Most Holy Theotokos.

Source: Orthodox Church in America_ OCA

THE PRIESTMARTYR EUTYCHIUS ( 1th. c)

 The PriestMartyr Eutychius, a disciple of the holy Apostles John the Theologian and Paul, lived from the I Century into the beginning II Century and was from Palestinian Sebasteia. Although Saint Eutychius is not reckoned among the number of the 70 Disciples, he received the title Disciple for his labours together with the older Apostles, by whom he was made bishop. Having heard the preaching about Christ the Saviour, Saint Eutychius at first became a student of the Apostle John the Theologian, and then having met the Apostle Paul, he preached with him on the early journeys. According to tradition, Saint Eutychius underwent many sufferings: they starved him with hunger, struck at his body with iron, flung him in the fire, and then devoured by wild beasts. One time, a lion was let loose upon the saint, which frightened everyone in that it rendered praise to the Creator – having been given a human voice. The Priestmartyr Eutychius finished his works in his native city, where he was beheaded with a sword at the beginning of the II Century.

HEBREWS 7:26-8:2

26 For such a High Priest was fitting for us, who is holy, harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners, and has become higher than the heavens; 27 who does not need daily, as those high priests, to offer up sacrifices, first for His own sins and then for the people's, for this He did once for all when He offered up Himself. 28 For the law appoints as high priests men who have weakness, but the word of the oath, which came after the law, appoints the Son who has been perfected forever.

1 Now this is the main point of the things we are saying: We have such a High Priest, who is seated at the right hand of the throne of the Majesty in the heavens, 2 a Minister of the sanctuary and of the true tabernacle which the Lord erected, and not man.

MARK 4:35-41

35 On the same day, when evening had come, He said to them, "Let us cross over to the other side." 36 Now when they had left the multitude, they took Him along in the boat as He was. And other little boats were also with Him. 37 And a great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that it was already filling. 38 But He was in the stern, asleep on a pillow. And they awoke Him and said to Him, "Teacher, do You not care that we are perishing?" 39 Then He arose and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, "Peace, be still!" And the wind ceased and there was a great calm. 40 But He said to them, "Why are you so fearful? How is it that you have no faith?" 41 And they feared exceedingly, and said to one another, "Who can this be, that even the wind and the sea obey Him!"

#orthodoxy #orthodoxchristianity #easternorthodoxchurch #originofchristianity #spirituality #holyscriptures #gospel #bible #wisdom #saints

[medea10]

My Review of Made in Abyss: The Golden City of the Scorching Sun

Season One Review

I’m so excited to see this anime! I remember…

Oh.

I was obliviously excited for this anime while erasing every horrifying thing I saw in the first season and movie. Seriously, how the hell could I forget about suitcase organs, Riko’s arm almost being amputated, and the worst thing imaginable to Mitty? Well, I’m sure season two will calm down with…

There’s a rape 30 seconds into the first episode.

Yay! More child abuse!

This anime continues to hurt.

HISTORY: A giant, gaping chasm stands in the middle of a land mass. It’s unknown how far the bottom is (if there’s even a bottom). It’s unknown how this abyss came to be. All we know is that there are rare relics and mysterious creatures that surround the area. There are people known as ‘Divers’ who explore the abyss. However, the further down you go into the chasm, the harder it is to get back up to the surface without suffering painfully. Side-effects include nausea, vomiting, evacuation of the bowels, bleeding from the mouth, bleeding from the eyeballs, body mutilation, and death.

Riko had high ambitions of becoming a diver like her mother. And if she becomes a skilled diver, her hopes are to find her mother who went missing 10 years ago. Riko goes on a journey of her own down in the abyss. Along with Riko is a boy who’s half-cyborg named Reg. He would like to know more about his own existence as he suffers from amnesia. And finally, there’s Nanachi. She looks like a furry animal, but she was once a girl until a cruel experiment changed her when she ascended from one layer to another.

GOLDEN CITY: This story takes place after the events of Dawn of the Deep Soul. Riko, Reg, and Nanachi are in the special compartment Bondrewd made to descend to their next stop, the Golden City. This is in the sixth layer of the abyss and is also known as “The Capital of the Unreturned”. Many of the creatures that reside here are either banished from other lands or are hollows (much like Nanachi). This is also the place where everyone was able to discover more than they bargained for. Nanachi was reunited with Mitty (but it came with a price). Reg is inching closer to knowing about his life before being found by Riko.

But it isn’t just about Reg, Riko, and Nanachi. Every now and then we see a little bit of the past with a group of travelers filled with adventurers, outcasts, and the banished. This part shows us the Golden City before it became a mystery village full of hollow-like creatures. And that’s all I’ll say since this gets really spoilery very fast.

NEW CHARACTERS INTRODUCED: Besides following the tales of Riko, Reg, and Nanachi, we occasionally see something from the past with characters who landed in the Golden City. There were explorers like Wazukyan and Belaf. And then there were the banished people. And one of those banished was Vueko. She’s the one we saw getting raped in the first 30 seconds of this season. As you can see, her life has been utter shit from minute one. Vueko, along with others have been abandoned to the sixth-layer of the abyss due to one thing or another.

Irumyuui was another abandoned child. Irumyuui was cast aside by her family because it was learned that she would be unable to bear a child once she gets older. So, she’s damaged goods! Wouldn’t it be great if she could magically bear children? Haha…this is no laughing matter. Stay tuned!

And finally, there’s Faputa. She is seen as the princess of this area (in the present time). Faputa is the daughter of, um, a character. Stay tuned! And holy shit, her voice actress Misaki Kuno lost her voice during the final episodes. Faputa was that intense! Good Lord woman, please take care of your vocal cords. I can’t imagine how hard the English cast might go through. Good luck, Catherine Thomas!

JAPANESE CAST: *Vueko is played by Yuka Terasaki (known for Korrina on Pokemon XY, Luna on YGO 5Ds, Tenma on Inazuma Eleven: GO, and Sasha on Index)

*Irumyuui & Faputa is played by Misaki Kuno (known for Frederica on 86, Akane on Durarara, Kurumi on Lycoris Recoil, and Shio on Happy Sugar Life)

ENGLISH CAST: *Vueko is played by Kristen McGuire (known for Hirano on Assassination Classroom, Haruna on Nichijou, Isabel on Attack on Titan, Chiyo on Prison School, and Yu on Fire Force)

*Irumyuui is played by Savannah Menzel (known for Rumi on OreGairu)

*Faputa is played by Catherine Thomas (known for Yui on OreGairu and Itsuki on Kakegurui [Sentai dub])

LICENSING: Everything and anything having to do with Made in Abyss is taken by Sentai Filmworks. So that means the only streaming service in America to see this is Hidive. Hey, every anime doesn’t have to go to Crunchroll. Although European countries can watch it on Crucnhyroll. Best of all, Sentai Filmworks put out an English dub shortly after the main release with the original cast back. As of recent, Toonami on Adult Swim picked up this series and has been slowly airing all of Made in Abyss. One can only wonder how much of this series had to be censored for television.

PREVIOUSLY IN THE FLINCHING MY WHOLE-BODY DEPARTMENT: I thought the worst of this season was going to be with what happened to Maaa after it squeezed someone a little too tight. But then you remember that Made in Abyss is full of gruesome scenes. And watching Maaa be torn apart was only the tip of this scary iceberg. Oh, I thought I survived worse when the previous season to Made in Abyss provided me with bleeding eyes, shit, the almost removal of body parts, human organs in a suitcase, and EVERYTHING involving the character Mitty.

But then we come to the seventh episode of this season and I am seriously at a loss of words with what I witnessed. They did not hold back. We witnessed everything from explosive diarrhea to giving birth to stillborn monstrosities to friggin’ cannibalism. You heard me, I said cannibalism! And yet it still got worse from there as we watch a body change on the same level as Mitty. Poor Irumyuui! Irumyuui was given a relic that would grant a wish. This was in hopes of curing her from a sickness. Irumyuui ended up giving birth to children. These children have no functioning organs and die in a couple of hours. And it just continues and continues!

After a while, she transformed into something that cannot be identified as anything and eventually morphed into an entire village. Not before giving birth to one last child that didn’t die. Her name is Faputa. She was born with the wrath left by her mother. And who could blame Irumyuui? All she wanted to do was give birth. She was cast aside from her homeland because she would never be able to have children. And she watched as all of her children die in her arms only for the pain to continue as they become food for her travel companions.

Medea needs a moment to herself.

I’m fine. I’m fine watching this. After having my gag reflex took a rest, I was fine. This series is pain. It’s utter pain.

Well, Made in Abyss gave us another character to hate on since Bondrewd wasn’t around. Wazukyan is someone…I’m really conflicted about. He did save Vueko and the others. At least there was genuine concern from the other people. Vueko almost offed herself. Belaf went insane after he learned what was in that stew. Mitsuki Saiga does another stellar performance as a tortured boy. But back to Wazukyan, we really didn’t see him with any guilt eating Irumyuui’s stillborn babies. In fact, he had no doubt or guilt taking away these infants immediately, without giving Irumyuui the chance to be with them before they die. Something about them tasting better when they’re fresh. I think I still hate Bondrewed more, but this guy…yeah, this guy.

ENDING: *sighs* No happy ending for Mitty ever. It’ll always hurt for Nanachi and the audience.

Anyways…

We got our answer of who some of these hollow-looking characters are in this town. They were once the outcasts and allies that traveled with Vueko and Irumyuui. And as we all know at this point, Irumyuui is the village herself after suffering the worst kinds of pain imaginable. All this girl wanted was to give birth. Yeah, it’s sick as shit to hear someone her age say that. But keep in mind, her family banished her when it was learned she would never be able to bear children. Oh, Irumyuui got her wish thanks to a certain relic given to her by Wazukyan! Thanks again, bruh! It came in the form of a bunch of stillborns and one wrathful child named Faputa.

Faputa has so much hatred for everything that has happened to her mother Irumyuui. She wants the village to run red with the blood of everyone (except for Reg). She likes Reg. While we still don’t know the real origins of Reg, we do see some flashbacks of Reg with Faputa prior to meeting Riko. Faputa really loved the way Reg treated her and they made a promise that they would one day meet again after Reg returns from his travels. Reg unfortunately doesn’t remember Faputa, but they do hook up again and have some cute moments together. I guess the amnesia happened between the time he left Faputa and meeting Riko.

But it looked like nothing had changed with Faputa as she likes Reg. Except when he sticks up for the village. Too bad Reg’s kindness was his downfall against Faputa. His second gear is pretty slammin’ when Riko blows her white whistle (made from Prushka). But Reg in second gear is just no match against Faputa’s rage. However, Faputa does get the shit knocked outta her when it comes to the real monsters of the Golden City. Add to that Belaf gave Faputa some past memories so she has some sort of glimpse of what her mother was prior to everything that had happened. So that kinda messed with her mind a bit. Despite her hatred for everyone due to her history and everything, they still came to Faputa’s aid.

In this final fight against these rogue-ass monsters, many characters introduced this season lost their lives. Belaf used up his final power to give Faputa some scattered memories. Majikaja literally broke everything in his body to help Riko and the others escape from harm, but gave an extra boost to Faputa. Maaa disappeared. Such a tragic character! And then there��s Wazukyan…nobody is crying for this mother fucker. Again, he’s not on Bondrewd-levels of shit and some can argue that his methods did save his comrades, but seriously, this guy, this guy right here. And finally, we’ve got Vueko. Taken out by that one thing we probably all forgot about for a second. When you ascend from the sixth layer, even from some stairs…

OH DEAR GOD! NOO! FUCKING END THIS ALREADY! CAN VUEKO PLEASE LIVE IN PEACE?! IS THAT SO FUCKING HARD?! SHIT GUYS, THIS SERIES IS KILLING ME WITH CHARACTER TORTURE HERE!

The abyss is a harsh mistress and we must accept this. Anyways, Faputa, Reg, and the others came up with a plan to destroy this Irumyuui-made city from the bottom-up. It was rough to go through, but it was manageable. Vueko passes away shortly after and given a proper burial from Faputa. Faputa is full of conflicted feelings at this point. She no longer wants to murder the rest of the survivors, she has a sense of respect for Nanachi and Riko, and has conflicting emotions towards Reg. That just means she’s a little Blushy McIdiot. We still don’t get an explanation for Reg’s amnesia between first meeting Faputa and meeting Riko. But as she blushes, yeah, she still likes Reg. They invite Faputa to travel with them. I’m unsure if she really does travel with Reg, Riko, and Nanachi as the anime ends there. Guess we need another season or movie to learn what happens next.

Sigh.

You know what? Earlier this year, I decided to venture on and watch a fucked-up movie called Requiem for a Dream. After sitting through that 105 minute what-the-fuck-athon, I swore that there would never be a single thing I watch after that to be as bad as that. When I mean ‘bad’ I mean, this film was fabulous and it’s going to give me nightmares for the next 5 years. And then the second season of Made in Abyss came along. Now, I have the stomach to watch Jared Leto’s infected arm and Ellen Burstyn getting electroshock therapy. Made in Abyss trumped that for some reason. Good fucking God!

Still a great series!

So, what next? I really hope we don’t have to wait another several years for a sequel. Does Faputa travel with Riko and Reg? Do we get more information about Reg prior to meeting Riko? Like who the hell created him in the first place? Is the next installment going to give us some insight about Riko’s mother? And what about Nanachi?

She’s on Pop Team Epic.

What?

Um, I don’t know what to say about that. I’m also not sure if this is legal. I’m just going to go back to my recommendation part of the review.

Full recommendation like last time. It needs to be repeated, this series is not for the faint of heart. Even healthy individuals might find trouble sitting through this anime without flinching. But if you’re willing to overlook a little blood, bodily harm, and other horrors that could befall 11-year-olds, then enjoy the adventure down the abyss and into the golden city.

If you would like to watch Made in Abyss’s latest season, HI-DIVE has it all including season one, the recap movies, the sequel movie, and this season. Toonami on Adult Swim is also airing the series.

#anime review #riko #reg #made in abyss #made in abyss the golden city of the scorching sun #nanachi #faputa #vueko #irumyuui #vuelo eluko #mitty

[eggmixercortex]

# 6 7 and 8 for whichever oc you think fit! very interested to hear more about your guys !!!

ohohoho alright >:]

(ill answer for Shiloh and Red for everything since theyre the two i post most about lol)

6 - Do they consider laws flexible, or immovable?

shiloh - shiloh has a kind of warped idea of what is or isnt a 'law' but for sure if its something they consider a rule they will not break it for pretty much any reason. mostly this manifests as ignoring local town laws etc and religiously (lol) following prayer practices even when wounded and nearly dead etc.

Red - as an "angel", he likes to outwardly appear pretty rule following, but in the more morality rules way. if he's being honest though, he pretty much considers all of that a little stupid. his city is nearly beyond anything beyond more cultural agreements and such, but for sure if there were also taxes he would be avoiding them.

7 - What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

shiloh - anything that reminds them of their very limited memories from before their first death. especially congregations or shrines from the other 'sect' that is prominent in the area. sometimes it gets hit with nostalgia it cant really explain or place, kind of like deja vu. they find it mildly unpleasant, but also a little comforting.

red - relics and holy paraphernalia that have stayed in pretty good or pristine shape - still functioning original mechanical baubles, or wooden carvings that arent rotted or burnt etc. its a good feeling that reminds him of life before the city began to really collapse, and he makes sure to hide or destroy things like that wherever possible.

8 - What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child?

shiloh - it wouldnt really remember, but it used to be REAL bad at being sneaky, and it got in trouble very frequently for skipping tutoring to hang out in the gardens, as a very young child. once they got to be a teenager they got much better at looking like a model child lmao

red - N/A. what childhood? Red's been around as long as anybody can remember. he's an "angel", of course he was never a child!

thanks so much!!

#man i hadnt thought about some of these #worm ocs #worm whispers #asks

[beevean]

What a horrible night to play a crappy game eh? .P

As long as you prossess the courage to go on, the path ahead with appaer :P

I didn't even write anything for this one. Castlevania 2 is a child of its time and at the same time a game that came out way too early for what it wanted to do... 10 years too early, in fact :P

Since back then they still hadn't had the idea of creating a Belmont per game, here Simon comes back in action because Dracula, surprise! cursed him just as he died. Simon will essentially rot from the inside out if he doesn't resurrect Dracula, which ngl, it's pretty gruesome to think about.

This may be one of the earliest games to have a day/night cycle, and it is an impressive feat on the NES. I didn't even care too much about the speed of the text, because what I was concerned about was being on the clock. You need it to be daytime for the towns to operate, to buy what you need and to heal in churches; at the same time, nighttime helps if you need to grind for hearts/money. I felt the tension, and if that was the intent, I appreciate it.

But yeahhhhh what this game is infamous for is the absolute crypticness. Chop chop, kids, go buy Nintendo Power if you hope to understand what's going on! Between the plethora of useless NPCs, the... what wants to pass for a translation, a lack of map (obviously), and tricks you couldn't imagine on your own like kneeling in front of a wall with a specific object selected, good luck trying to beat it without a guide. This was not unusual for the time, and I don't think anyone nowadays would even bother without pulling up GameFAQs. If you do, the game is very very short.

Difficulty wise, you're most likely to die due to forgetting that there was a bottomless pit near a door and falling :P otherwise, it's downright merciful compared to its older brother. The stiff as hell controls are more of an annoyance than an actual obstacle you need to work around. And do I need to say anything about the three bosses in the whole game? Yeah. I will commend the game, though, for pulling off the feeling of becoming stronger well: by the time you have the Chain Whip, enemies stop being a bother, and you get only stronger from there. I also liked that the relics give you extra powers (in SoTN they only boost up your stats, if I'm not mistaken): the rib in particular gives you a very useful shield.

Graphically, it's standard, some locations are repeated but all things considered I'm sure the devs had no choice. The most impressive part was the two different palettes for day and night. Musically, the selection of tracks is pretty small, but I like it! Bloody Tears is my favorite of the Holy Trinity, Silence of Daylight and Dwelling of Doom are super catchy, with the latter pulling some cool tricks with the instrumentation, and Within These Castle Walls is seriously creepy - I know most players have complained about how empty Dracula's Castle is, but I liked the tense atmosphere (still better than the castle in CoD). Basically Monster Dance is the only track I don't like, which made grinding even more boring, but what can you do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(also... we don't talk about the Famicom version)

So, in short, this game is more interesting as a relic from the past than something to play nowadays: back when you needed to splurge money to even have an idea of what to do lol. Most of what it does well, like the RPG elements, were made infinitely better in the IGAvanias. I'll say, though, that maybe I wouldn't mind another game where you explore a set of towns and also you're racing against the clock. C2 is ambitious... but that's really it. If I sound bored to bloody tears, that's because I was.

#castlevania #castlevania 2