#I am vaguely aware of the source material

[catd2014]

Binged the whole of Rivals in the last 24 hours, brilliant television

[francy-sketches]

If I'd actually posted all my pjo art when I made it instead of hoarding it like a little goblin for no apparent reason today I might have been known as the octavian guy instead of the joffrey guy...scary thought...

[erstwhilesparrow]

ethubs + desert duo hadestown au. not actually wildly familiar with hadestown but something something seeing and not seeing yourself in the bright young couple at your doorstep who have been separated by tragic circumstances?

notes:

etho + scar -- etho striking a deal with scar for a life for bdubs

grian + bdubs -- not sure this is A Thing in hadestown but i would like to play with bdubs's "he loves me!" thing and grian trying to convince him otherwise?

grian playing this season mean, playing willing to break from his allies at the drop of a hat -- again, don't think this actually lines up with anything in hadestown, but some of that... jadedness from third life, the way he starts his season with "everything that happened last time DOESN'T MATTER"

scar spends the whole season alone atop the mountain. that thing someone said once about how desert duo never left that desert but specifically in the sense that they spend every game after playing out warped versions of what they originally had, never satisfied because that moment is long gone and they can't accept it. seeing the funhouse mirror versions of you maybe succeed and maybe fail and kind of hoping-- what, exactly?

[edgeray]

*presses my face against your tank* HELLO RAY !!! :D I AM FINALLY HERE !! MY BRAINCELLS HAVE COLLIDED AND PRODUCED A THOUGHT !!

or, er, sort of? more like a vague vibe, but i digress. basically, consider: pining arle. how does she realize her feelings for you? how does she cope? how does her behaviour around you change? does it? what is she thinking the whole time? when would she consider making a move? essentially i would like to see you psychologically pick apart this woman. go as in depth into her brain or inner monologue as you want !!! the set dressing can be canon or an au, i’ll eat it up regardless :)) and as a professional angst writer i know you can write some absolutely monstrous (/pos) yearning and i’m frothing at the mouth thinking about it 🤤🤤🤤 lookin forward to your thoughts but also take your time with it !!! godspeed 🫡🫡🫡

An Unfit Role 

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Oh sev… you spoil me too much. You truly do. Somehow this turned into very ‘Arlecchino is a person'-esque and I don't know how but oh well. I don't know if this answered your questions very well, but hopefully this is what you mean by psychologically picking apart her! Was this enough pining? Content warnings / info - uhh none I think. just a lil bit of angst, 1.4k words

Arlecchino is many things. The Fourth Fatui Harbinger, a Snezynayan diplomat, the head of the House of the Hearth, and simply ‘'Father.’ She takes on many roles, and enforces them with an iron fist, every facade meticulously practiced and rationalized. Perfected as if she were an actor on a stage, every action and step is calculated beforehand. And if external factors or unpredictable variables crop up in the midst of her play? Well, a good actor knows how to improvise. Arlecchino is well aware of her roles, has memorized the lines and drilled through every movement. The Knave has many feats from each character she plays. A flawless performer, in those aspects.

A lover is not a character she can play. Someone who loves. It is a role that she cannot hope to touch, one she cannot imagine assigning herself too. She is far too inexperienced in what it pertains to. Her perception would grossly mischaracterize it, painting a rather crude display of what she knows of but doesn't know. After all, how could one act without an adequate example? No actor would want to showcase a poor impression of an original source material, an actor presents only their most remarkable qualities. A good actor knows what they cannot act, and it is this where her talents reach their limit. It is what her role as a ‘Father’ stems from; this inability to express something far too fragile and flimsy for her to hold. 

Of the few showcases of others playing the role, Arlecchino is knowledgeable enough that they are simply inept showcases. The Tsaritsa, who has shown the capability to act, and yet chooses to conceal her abilities from her audience. Crucabena, an unqualified actor, whose words dripped with far too much venom for the soft-spoken voice that she used. Perhaps Clervie was the only accurate and genuine actor able to play the part, but one cannot appreciate the traits of an unfinished story. And the naive Peruere, who could hardly imitate her counterpart, was maimed by Arlecchino’s own hands. It is here that she learns that the role of a lover earns no applause, because it adds little to the plot, and so it lacks a function in her story.  

Despite this, she finds herself in this scene, where she plays a character unlike her usual, an entirely new character involuntarily thrusted into her by the cruel machinations of her mind. 

It is a subtle thing. First, she was just the Knave to you. But somehow, among your presence, her facade slips, and she dons another character. 

She becomes a character who knows of nothing but the way her sight is captured by a singular person, a character whose dead heart begins to beat, daring to flutter back to life after it was painfully wrenched out of her chest by her favorite story's ending. She becomes acutely aware of this role when her eyes linger on you a moment longer than need be, when she indulges your empty but no less engaging conversations, when she familarizes herself with the particular fauna scent you carry. When she closes her eyes, your smile flashes through her mind, she knows she's fallen. 

An actor knows when to quit, when they misfit the character they're performing. And yet her mind remains stubborn. Acting a role one does not fit will only damage the actor's reputation, and she intends on abandoning it. But it is difficult for her to dismiss how much she yearns for a warmth that the blood flames in her veins cannot bring. It is difficult to deny that she is not momentarily blinded and stunned by your beaming expression, even when you are not looking at her. It is increasingly more difficult to control the pulsing underneath her skin. This is a character she cannot control, instead, it often feels that the character controls her. 

It is an unseemly, disgusting appearance for her. If it were physically possible, she would plunge her very own cursed, clawed hands into her chest, to grasp onto this fickle, volatile organ and crush it just to exhaust the remaining embers of a futile hope. If only it were as simple as that. Love is far too much of a complicated role for her, and yet it is somehow inescapable. Some sort of torment placed onto her by the archons. 

She can long, she can reach, she can prance around you, but never can she touch. For love imprints its scorch marks deeper than any weapon or assault. One of the lessons her story has concluded to. 

So, instead, she reduces its role to a minor character. She lets her stares remain, but she observes you from a distance. She does not dawdle a second longer besides you if she needn't be. She dresses the role of a lover as an observer. Everything she touches with these wretched, blackened hands soon turns into nothing but embers and ashes, and so the only way that you will remain is away from her.

On her desk, sits a vase with a single flower. It is your favorite flower, the flower that you smell of. It does not move from its place, nothing is done to it besides being watered. Its stem is so brittle, and the petals are far too easy to wither away.

(It is a reminder, every time she sits at her desk. Oh, how'd she like to stroke the patels with as much tenderness as she could muster. How'd she like to cradle it in her hands, this source of life, despite being so delicate, is so beautiful. How'd she like to be able to wake up everyday, and view upon this blossoming flower. But she is not a gardener. She knows nothing of how to make a flower bloom.) 

Humans are the only viable actors for the role of a lover. A curse is not. 

(In her dreams, sometimes you are in place of Clervie. Yet, like Clervie, the only moment she is able to cradle you is when her sword impales you. She will not let another flower wilt, she will not burn another flower.)

It is why you baffle her. Why do you gaze upon her with that expression, as if her claws are not one one more inch from piercing your skin and ripping into your flesh? How do you take her hands in yours, somehow slotting them as if they were always meant to, when they’re soiled with vulgar blood? Her cutting words and sharp tongue, how do they not dissuade you? How do you see her blackened skin, and not be driven away by such a mark of impurity and depravity? 

How could you not tell that she is improper for the role that you seek?

She wonders if a flower is a poor description of you. She wonders if you are instead a Sundew ensnaring a spider, unwilling to let it escape. No, perhaps that is not fitting for you, because you are unaware how effortlessly she can char you–unaware of the imminent danger that comes with keeping such a venomous creature.

Arlecchino is many things. She is a coward, if only for you. She cannot abandon her role, but she cannot perform better, floating in the state of inadequacy that she so despises. Playing a lover makes her foolish, and it is a compromising role. 

She is foolish, but she is despicable. She is selfish. And though she is perfect actor, even performers must fail to succeed. One day, her mental will and patience crumbles. She requests you into her office, your doe-eyed expression widens when she gives you the flower that sits lone in a glass vase on her desk. She tells you that you plague her thoughts, every feeling and emotion is muddied when they concern you, a culmination of things not within her grasp, not within her control. 

It is your performance that finally teaches her what she lacked before: playing the role of a lover requires another. It is a role dependent on another character, otherwise it cannot succeed. It matters not how experienced one is with the other, as long as the characters are committed to it.

There is another lesson that she learned from you.

“I cannot act as a lover.”

“Why must you act to love me?”

Love is a fickle, unpredictable thing. There is no words to be practiced, no actions to be scripted. 

Arlecchino is many things. A lover may be one of them. 

[mossstep]

More sagau (self aware genshin au) headcanons(plus a little bit of writing) These ones are a bit more focused instead of general.

Ghost!reader sagau headcanons

As always: I am a minor, don’t be weird with my posts!

Note: these posts are made with the intention of lightening up the sagau tag, also, if you’re interested in me writing an entire story using my headcanons just ask and I’ll be happy to!

Tw/cw: sagau, swearing, references to the 4.2 archon quest (not 100% sure if this is needed)

Arriving in teyvat

Waking up in teyvat was certainly not on your bingo card for this year. You had only been playing genshin seriously for about a year or so. You had played before that, but had gotten bored after the Monstadt archon quest, because of the steep ar requirements for the Liyue archon quest.

So waking up in Liyue, specifically wuwang hill was, jarring to say the least. You had recognized the area immediately. You had basically lived in the crimson witch domain farming for your Hu Tao. Not that you had Hu Tao yet, having lost your 50/50 on each of her reruns. (Seriously! Talk about bad luck!)

As you get up you notice a vague feeling weightlessness, looking down, you noticed that you were partially see-through? What?

-

So the creator would probably meet Hu Tao first, as she likes the hang around wuwang (I don’t know her lore to correct me if I’m wrong) and Hu Tao would almost immediately recognize the reader as the creator due to their “golden aura.” Despite this, she’d treat you as your average ghost

-

The creator’s appearance would be like the ghosts seen in a game. But instead of that blueish-white color outline, the creator’s would be golden.

-

The creator’s ability to interact with things would be limited, only being able to slightly nudge or push things. They wouldn’t be able to pick anything up, or eat anything.

Despite this, they’re able to be seen/talk to vision holders and other elemental beings. While regular humans would only be able to sense them.

Also, the creator can possess shit, because ghost!

-

It’s likely that Zhongli, after catching wind of the creator’s arrival in not only teyvat, but also Liyue, would try to meet with them.

I can see the geo archon getting in contact with Ei or Neuvillette about making a mechanical puppet/body for the creator, since they were very limited in what they could do.

-

In their ghost form the creator would likely be able to take advantage of laylines/teleport waypoints/statues of the seven/etc. to travel around teyvat, which is how they meet with their favorite characters, wether or not they know about the creator’s arrival

Creator: hi tighnari :3

Tighnari: ARCHONS WHERE DID YOU COME FROM!?

Creator: secret :3

Alternatively

Creator: Hi Kaveh

Kaveh: OH SHIT A GHOST (unaware they’re the creator)

-

The creator would probably spend a whole 6 months or longer in teyvat without a body, because the people of teyvat would make sure only the best body is given to them.

If the people of Fontaine make a body for the creator they’d probably have the the fortress of meropide temporarily stop production on gardemeks to put all their energy in making the perfect mechanical body for the creator of teyvat.

If Ei instead uses the technique she used to create the shogun and scaramouche she’d source only the highest quality materials, then spend ages meticulously working on every little detail to make sure it’s perfect

No matter how much you say you don’t care about it being perfect, the people of teyvat would consider it blasphemy to give anything less than the best for their creator.

[katyspersonal]

hey sorry i know you get a lot of asks but i really wanted to know if you think midra and shabriri could be related by blood? i am not sure who else to ask.

Awhhh it isn't just this, it is also that I am stuck on my phone and only got so many pictures here, when I prefer to answer asks with screenshots spam! XD But this question doesn't offer very much to bounce off of from what the source material offers so time to use my imagination..? 🤔

I did an analysis of Frenzied Flame's and Three Fingers' "timeline" in this ( x ) post, but the thing is! Previously those afflicted by Frenzied Flame had to contact the Three Fingers and had to be grasped by them directly, not only if they wanted to be a Lord, whereas the "become too sad and you will get Frenzied Flame" disease is stated to start FROM Shabriri! Even when eyeballs afflicted by it across Lands Between carry his name now:

^ Vyke's one is unique in this case, because he WAS grabbed by the Three Fingers! Meanwhile, as for the Shadow Realm:

So, in case of Shabriri's relation, I believe he'd have to be of younger generation than Midra and his servants! I also think this because Three Fingers are imprisoned under Leyendell. In fact, BURIED there!

(Tomb of an ancient god line) Also, there are no Winter Lanterns (the ER edition I mean xD) or wandering Aging Untoucheable that apparently are heralds of big Frenzy Nuke that collect the frenzied eyeballs in the Lands Between where Frenzied Flame is! It is also a pointer towards Three Fingers having been weakened/"killed" since the time Midra himself was grabbed by them!

My idea is that whereas Three Fingers are called readerless, technically Shabriri was the one and only "reader" for them! Functionally he is comparable with Gowry more than with Enia, but I have the mental image of him having the glimpse at these fingerprints desperately trying to get out, and deciding that it was a good idea to bring about what they wanted rather than personal pain/revenge or some grand idea of ending all suffering. (As much as I LOVE the joke that Allant and Shabriri are depressed and manic side of the same concept hdgfjfhfjgdf)

^ The crime of slander he got punished for WAS accusing Nomads of worshiping the Frenzied Flame, and judging from his expression he knew it wasn't the end 🌛 That's why I think he knew what he was doing all along, playing with Marika's fear of fire because no way any of that shit gets anywhere near her precious Erdtree *looks at Fire Monks incantations repeatedly stating Fire of Giants was enemy for GO it could burn the Erdtree* *looks at her being scared of Messmer's flame*

So, if we say he is a later relative of Midra, there is still the important factor that he inflicted Frenzied Flame on himself rather than was already infected by it! If we say he had a natural affinity to "listen" to Three Fingers because of being born by someone in Midra's Manse who was infected, that'd be direct relation! I do think that the torch Nanaya is cradling IS that of hers and Midra's son, so let's say they had another child who they yeeted out of their place for hopeful adoption so Inquisitors don't kill them or at least they have a better life 🤔 Either that child then would be ancestor of Shabriri, or Shabriri himself! He could have still had a natural hunch, or be vaguely aware that his ancestors were isolated and perished by Frenzied Flame and got curious to learn what it WAS! Maybe that's why he went digging into the tomb, rather than just found it?

Personally, I think emotionally it works better if Midra and Nanaya only had one child, who failed to become a Lord! But as I was typing this response, the idea of them getting (another) child outta here for better life started to look fun x) Coincidentally, 1) I draw Shabriri's original body with black hair that Nanaya has and 2) I was discussing the similar "dooming self by getting curious about heritage your ancestors SAVED you from" trope recently about Beatrice from DS1 vfhgfhh It looks like I can't escape this trope xdd

^ I also can offer an idea of collateral/distant relation, since devs made darn sure you can see Midra's Manse used to have the same flowers as Shaman's Village! Midra's servants, who were Hornsent unlike him, were hunted by Hornsent Inquisitors as "heretics", and tolerating all that WAS what brought Midra and his people to Frenzied Flame! They probably bullied fellow Hornsent exactly for serving the shamans (or closely related people) as nobles when by their understanding shamans were unworthy of living!

I insist that Dominula Celebrants are descendants of surviving shamans (here ( x ) are more justifications for that), so, say, Midra's relatives from there escaped, and Shabriri was amongst their descendants! + yeeted to live in another place because apparently no shamans not celebrants keep males around jfggvbgh

Latter one would imply a very long generational gap though! However, this idea might have given more insight on why Shabriri's word had a weight to begin with! The interesting detail is, developers edited out the part about him having been a noble! It was in the original unpatched version, then patched out:

And for now, the mention of him being a noble is only saved in Shabriri's Woe version as one of keepsakes we choose at the start of the game.. but that is only in localization! The Japanese original DID patch it out as well!

Fuckin sneaky patching out Nameless Moon Presence flashback hfgyygjg And before, I didn't second-guess it! If his word mattered so much as to people to believe his slander about something so crucial for the fate of the Erdtree, he had to hold an important position anyways! But after the DLC I start to question whether instead, he was amongst the people Marika held dear due to sentimentality 🤔 Especially much earlier in the timeline. Maybe she was slightly more willing to trust what little was left of her folks than anyone else! She might have even been aware of what happened with Midra's Manse if he was connected with the shamans (or just shaman but not living in the village as a male), let alone the possibility of sealing Three Fingers herself, so the "not this shit again" effect worked very well!

___________________

In the conclusion, I think the relation is possible! I AM weak for "consider not being so curious about (bad) fate of your ancestors because nothing good will come of it" trope it seems hfgthvgg It could even solve the weirdness of editing out his noble status! I am still giving him pretty clothes tho

[ollyou]

!!WARNING FOR PMTOK FANS!!

Please reblog for awareness.

Someone has attempted to grab my IP address using a Grabify link. Thankfully I was smart enough to instantly recognize the link as malicious, but there’s no telling if this person is sending the same link to followers or other PMTOK fandom members in general.

I have reason to believe this is likely a targeted attack on me, due to a sudden influx of threats from a certain PMTOK fan’s follower base towards me that happened after I vaguely described I found out someone who used to follow me is a lolicon on my alt Twitter to ~20 followers. I will not be sharing names because as I had stated in my original thread, I have no intention of starting drama, just sharing my disgust and shock at something that happened. The point of me describing this is only to explain why this may have happened.

DO NOT LOOK UP THE LINK BELOW UNLESS YOU ARE FINE WITH POTENTIALLY HAVING YOUR LOCATION SHARED WITH THIS PERSON.

I HAVE NO IDEA IF THE LINK CONTAINS ANY GRAPHIC MATERIAL, AS IT HAS A PNG FILE ATTACHED. PLEASE EXERCISE CAUTION.

THE MESSAGE:

PROOF OF IT BEING MALICIOUS:

There are many dangerous and manipulative people in this fandom, and I want everyone to stay safe. I will be contacting law enforcement if this escalates further, though thankfully at the time of being sent this link, I was already far from home and so my IP changed to match that. I did not load the particular link so I don’t believe I am in any immediate danger, but THIS COULD VERY WELL PUT OTHERS INCLUDING YOURSELF IN DANGER.

Do NOT click any suspicious links sent to you— heck, don’t click links sent by anonymous sources at ALL. ALWAYS use a website checker if you’re that curious and need to click it. Please do not make a fool of yourself and wind up with your info in dangerous people’s hands.

Thank you for reading and remember to stay safe online. Please contact me if you’re in the PMTOK fandom and/or are following me and receive any strange links from anonymous or burner accounts.

[soundcrusher]

Hi! 🩹🗑💎 for an OC of your choosing, please

Okay, considering you’re the only one who sent an ask (and I got my laptop back), I’m gonna give you a two for one deal.

People familiar with my Transformers OCs will recognize Flinch, and the newer ones will, hopefully, have a vague awareness of my FF7 OC Valerian.

(If someone else wants to send me an ask, here is the ask game.)

Flinch! MA BOY! (Going with the Unicron Trilogy -mainly Armada- here)

🩹 - Someone who was a source of trauma

Fucking Unicron.

Like, seriously, not only did that fucker possess him, but he also left him mentally scared enough, that Flinch lost some of his happy-go-lucky demeanour. Growing more paranoid and scared as the story progressed, until he refused to recharge all together.

Adding to that, Flinch also secluded himself from his family by shutting himself into his room or staying out for longer than usual.

He did get better, yes, and regained some of his happy-go-lucky personality, but by the time Cybertron rolls around, my boy’s having the worst of times again.  

🗑️ - "It's complicated"

His dad.

Flinch has a very complicated relationship with his dad. Not because Primus is the god of all Cybertronians, and all that jazz, but rather because he has been absent for most of Flinch’s live and he doesn’t know how to deal with that. Like, it’s great that he gets to know something about his actual parents, but why does it have to be mech that’s not only God, but also the planet they live on?

Primus sure enough causes Flinch some kind of existential crisis.

💎 - Chosen family (including warband)

The Minicon pair that adopted Flinch, when they stumbled upon him, and all the other Minicons they found on their way through the galaxy.

They might be all broken from the war they were forced to fight in, and try to hide their more evil deeds from the sunshine that’s Flinch, but damn it all, if they aren’t a good family.

Also, It’s pretty much a fact that @tachyon-omlette's Eda didn’t have a choice, when Flinch decided that he was prime Dad-Material. Eda might not see it, but Flinch wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world/galaxy. (If the topic of custody would ever come up, Flinch would choose Eda over Primus any time.)

Valerian! BABY BOY BABY!

🩹 - Someone who was a source of trauma

I want to say the scientist who made him, but IV was a bigger source of trauma than them.

I went more into detail in that story I wrote, but IV’s presumed death at the hands of some unknown foe/the facility staff left Valerian traumatized to a point, where he even avoided the single though of dreaming about the outside world.

After all, IV dreamed of what was behind the walls they knew, and when he was taken outside, he never returned. And despite Valerian’s memories of his brother being good ones, him never coming back made them bitter. To a point, where he can’t even fall asleep without holding something to ground him.

🗑️ - "It's complicated"

I am tempted to say, “Everyone he meets”.

Valerian spent too much time isolated from humans that weren’t facility staff/scientist, so, meeting people who aren’t out to harm him is a little weird, dare I say scary in some strange way.

Like, he knows that they aren’t going to hurt him, as long as he doesn’t give them a reason to, but at the same time, kindness is rare. Especially in grown-ups that glare at you, whenever you try to carefully walk around them, or yell at you for getting into their way.

He will get better over time, especially when he finds people who care about him, but strangers will always make him feel complicated.

Another person would be his father/the person he calls “DNA-Donor”. Valerian is still young and has spend most of his freedom traveling with a robot cat, before living with his creator. So, meeting the man who’s DNA was used to create him awakens many complicated feelings. Especially in the “Do I call him dad, or not? He never really showed any signs of caring for me…” side of things. It’s definitely something he and Vincent have to work on. But hey! Valerian’s around 14 when they meet, so, they have the rest of their lives to do so!

💎 - Chosen family (including warband)

The Cait Sith that found Valerian in his cell/room, and Reeve. No fighting over that.

Cait was the first person/robot, who wasn’t IV, that ever showed compassion towards Valerian, and the boy grew attached. I mean, why else would he follow the cat over all of Gaia like a lost chocobo-chick? That’s both his emotional support robo-cat and his caretaker.

Reeve came later, when both showed up on his doorsteps. Drenched by rain and muddied from a tumble down a cliff. They haven’t left ever since.

[yamayuandadu]

regarding the sogdians and foxes. do you know if the sogdians themselves practiced a fox cult of some kind? also an unrelated question but i was wondering. was Taoism practiced westwards in the sogdian heartland?

I am not aware of that. I don't really think there was much in the way of animal cults in Sogdia in general. While many deities were associated with specifica animals and in fact in art some can only be identified by their animal attribute (a mount, a throne with animal decorations, or an accessory), foxes aren't among them. Comparative evidence from other contemporary or slightly more recent sources pertaining to other Iranian peoples doesn't really hint at anything similar to the Chinese fox cults either. In Zoroastrian tradition some favorable description can be found but this reflects the fact Avesta considers the fox a type of dog and by extension presents it as one of the animals created to counter malign influence (source), there's no fox yazata or anything of that sort. Al-Biruni might be describing depictions of the simurg as "flying foxes" (ﺧﺮﺳﺎنخﺮ, hurasan-xvarra) but that's an isolated example. The only information about Sogdian or at least Sogdian-adjacent perception of the matter of foxes in Cult of the Fox is that we at the very least know An Lushan and his contemporary Geshu Han were aware of the derogatory implications. Doubtlessly there were more foregners who had opinions on that since there's a fair share of evidence the fox comparisons were employed casually in everyday speech, but so far I failed to find any first hand accounts. Individual Chinese stories might portray foreigners as well versed in fox affairs - for example in Shen Jiji's Tale of Miss Ren a foreign food vendor living next to the eponymous character is well aware she is a fox and doesn't really seem to be bothered - but there are ultimately just literary fiction. I do think it would be interesting to wonder how the matter was seen by "naturalized citizens" so to speak - whether they saw a mirror of own struggles in fox tales, whether they took part in domestic fox cults in areas where they were prevalent etc. - but I don't think there's any material evidence which would make it possible to explore that.

As for the second question, I am not aware of Taoism spreading that far westwards. It also doesn't come up in any publications I read which deal with religions present in Sogdia - and most of these do highlight plurality. An indigenous set of beliefs (whether it can be considered a form of Zoroastrianism or merely something vaguely related remains a matter of debate), Buddhism, (Nestorian) Christianity and Manichaeism are all well attested. I read a few surveys of Sogdian theophoric names too, and no Taoist figures come up (while Buddha and Jesus are comparably well attested as local variants of Mithra and Nanaya). For the most part I'm only aware of Taoism spreading in some capacity to Vietnam, Korea and Japan in the first millennium - in other words, eastwards, not westwards. However, there is some evidence of Xuanzang being provided with Sanskrit translations of Taoist classics before embarking on his journey to India (see Daoism in the Tang (618-907) in the Brill Daoism Handbook), so it does seem fair to say attempts must have been made.

The possible attempts at westward transfer of Taoism were seemingly generally tied to interactions between this religion and Buddhism. This is highlighted in particular by the rise of a popular legend according to which Laozi was also the source of many other teachings because he was identical with the historical Buddha (or vice versa; see here for full context).

[littlestsnicket]

Questions 7, 26, 45, and 50. 28 made me giggle.

7. Any worldbuilding you’re particularly proud of?

as a fic writer i somewhat avoid doing world building… the world is there in the source material. but for my longer witcher fics, i did have to work out how i thought magic works in that world, and even though very little of it ended up on the page, i am quite pleased with what is in my head and how it let me feel more comfortable writing ciri and yen doing magic. (that’s probably what makes it good world building in my opinion, that it’s not really on the page.)

other things are more like, how do i jam my headcanons about how this world works into the story, which i think is fundamentally different than world building (like when ciri&jaskier talk about being queer in the post season 2 fic).

26. already answered this one (writing fic that’s only dialogue sounds like fun!)

45. What’s something you’ve improved on since you started writing fic?

i think the biggest thing is the ability to write longer works? the fact that i’ve written two thinks over 10k now is still absolutely shocking to me.

i think i’ve also gotten a lot better at figuring out why a story isn’t working. i used to just wander away from things and not find my way back to them, or chop the bits that were working into drabbles instead of figuring out the whole story. that’s also, on reflection, a big part of being able to write longer stories.

but also a lot of both of these things is less real improvement in my writing and more having a beta reader (you) and how the way i engage with fandom has changed a bit over time/across fandoms.

50. Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!

the thing i want to get better at (which i think i’ve vaguely talked about in my sprint retro notes), is learning how to create inspiration rather than waiting around for it. it’s an interesting self-awareness exercise. like if i go for a long walk or do the dishes while listening to music instead of a podcast, usually my brain does things. what else makes my brain do things and how do i guide the brain-doing-things in the direction of the thing i want to be working on?

did that make any sense?

(bonus 28, lol, yes. you read my fic before i post it, either when it’s almost done or when i need validation that i put words on the page so you get to see my disaster drafts :D and you get to deal with how i didn’t write the two pivotal scenes for the ciri&jaskier fic until very late in my out of order writing process and i had to keep trying to explain what the fic was actually about to you because based on what was on the page it seemed like it was about something else—in so much as that fic is actually about anything.)

[mintacle]

So you want to make one of those neat little posts with the images and the texts that read like a poem and have an overarching theme, but you don't even know what they're called, let alone how to do them. This post is your sign from God (me) to make one because I love them so much and also some tips on what I do.

1. What are these things even called? these are called web weaves or web weavings and as far as I'm aware their pretty much only on tumblr rn.

2. What kind of things can I use? Literally anything. The more various your scources, the cooler. You can use peoms, books, lyrics. Paintings, Graphics, photos, stills. Messages, posts, asks, comments. I especially love to use posts or messages etc. that someone posted in a very mundane manner and elevating it with the web weave and acknowledging the poetry in our everyday life.

3. How do I put it together? I first gather all the material I want to use into one draft, then I rearrange over and over again and see what effect it has on me. The main method I use to judge whether I am satisfied with my web weave is if it has an effect on me. If not, then I rework it again and again.

4. But how do I even start my first one? So, I have a folder with close to 300pics of potential material for web weaves. My advice is to start gathering your own stuff, take screenshots of literally anything that makes you feel stuff. Keep your eyes open in the real world for graffiti or bathroom stall scribbles that make you feel something. Poetry is just words that mean more than just their content and that is present everywhere.

5. Should I title my webweave? I prefer to give my web weaves a title or short caption, because it makes it easier to understand the theme. Themes can be anything, from vague concepts like "love" or "guilt" to very specific things like "I wear headphones all the time because I was screamed at so much, I never want to be screamed at again, I need a voice screaming at me all the time." Art speaks for itself, but titles often still help your audience understand the register of your art to even know how to listen.

6. Sources. I'm really bad at this one. Try to take screenshots in which you include the source you got it from. It's good practice to list all the sources in order at the end of the webweave. But often I end up with webweaves of which there are at least half of the screenshots I don't even remember where I got from. The oy thing I think is absolutely inacceptable is using someone else's post or art without asking for permission and crediting them.

Ok, I can't think of anything else rn, but ask box is open (as always) and if anyone wants some pointers do not hesitate to message me either, I am crazy about web weaves and will absolutely support anyone who wants to try their own hand at one.

[gillie266]

Yeein' On That 'Haw Ch. 2-- A Hot Cup o' Joe

Before I knew it, I was seated at Norm’s disheveled table, ceramic mug in-hand. The hot liquid inside was quickly heating up the material, making it almost painful to hold. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to have instant coffee on-hand, Norm,” I commented inquisitively. He shrugged, collecting his own mug from the small counter opposite me and leaning up against it. I noticed how he didn’t sit down. “Pays t’ ‘ave somethin’ hot on ya when it gets cold.” He used his free hand to gesture to the miniscule stove against the far wall. “That thing is my only source o’ heat in the winter.” He turned his head to the side in the general direction of the front door. “Got the coffee from some crippled feller who wanted to gimme a ‘housewarmin’ gift.’” He performed air quotes. “Scared ‘im off right quick.”

“Huh. So you’ve been out here for a while, then?” I tilted my head in his direction, choosing to ignore the fact that he presumably pointed a shotgun at a disabled man. And the fact that the disabled man was probably Jerry. Poor guy.

Norm nodded– almost solemnly. “That’s right. Been out ‘ere goin’ on three years.” He lifted his mug to where I assumed his lips were, paused when he remembered the bag on his head, then lowered the mug once more. Ha. Idiot. 

Not like I wanted to drink it myself. Since I got there, I’d hated how the people there absorbed nutrients. Sure, we ate, but I wouldn’t call it ‘eating,’ in the sense of there was a slot in the base of my head that I shoved food into and called it a day. I couldn’t even really taste it. Man, I missed actually tasting things. There was a vague essence of flavor in things, and I could still sense textures, but that was it. 

I hummed in acknowledgement. “I assume that Mayor Mingus has some involvement in you being sequestered in an abandoned shack in the woods.” 

Norm’s grip tightened on his mug. “Ya’d be assumin’ correctly, pardner. That dastardly feline thought it’d be easier t’ exile me than t’ deal with me properly.” 

If I had eyebrows, they would have lifted at that moment. “Mingus exiled you? I didn’t think she did things like that… or that she had the power to do things like that.” I paused to take a steadying breath. “I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised. It’s pretty obvious that she’s one corrupt kitty-cat.”

He scoffed. “Ya can say that again. I swear t’ all the powers that be, once I git my hands on that furry little–”

“Woah!” I interrupted him, holding up a finger. “Don’t finish that sentence. Lemme guess. You’re some kind of ruthless avenger who wants to heal his broken pride and compensate for his lack of action by unnecessarily harming those who have wronged you.” 

He fell into stunned silence. I realized I hit it right on the money and winced. Or I would have, if I had a face. 

Norm cleared his throat. “...I suppose y’ could say that,” he mumbled in a meek voice. 

“Ah, shit, dude, who am I to judge?” I leaned back in my chair and made a wide gesture with my arms. “I can understand why you would want her dead. She’s a corrupt politician who nobody seems to realize is corrupt. Not even that weirdly self-aware guy who lives in a dumpster knows what’s going on with her.” I paused. “Wait… why did Mingus exile you?”

The yeehaw man didn’t answer for a concerningly long time. He only stared at me, as if he were sizing me up. I could feel myself becoming increasingly uncomfortable. 

“Are ya stupid er what?” He finally resumed speaking, causing me to deflate in a mixture of relief and shame. “It’s cuz I ‘ave a head. A normal one, not some…” He pointed with an open palm toward my rotary head. “Plastic box.”

I felt my muscles tense at that comment. I couldn’t blame him for thinking that I have had this thing for a head since I was an infant. But… it still kind of hurt. 

“...Right,” I avoided his gaze for a moment out of discomfort. “So, you’re out here because Mingus doesn’t like people with flesh-heads. That feels almost sort of racist. Classist?... Dial-ist?” I shook my head, hearing the various components rattling about inside. Then I paused. “How do you have a flesh-head in the first place? I thought people around here got their heads replaced when they were babies?”

His sticky note face raised an eyebrow at my phrasing. “It’s a long story,” he didn’t comment on how I was speaking like I was a foreigner in a new country. 

“Well, do I have some good news for you, Mr. Space Cowboy!” I set my mug down on the table, making a soft clattering noise. I leaned forward, placing my elbows on my knees. “We quite literally have all night.” 

Norm stared at me for a long, awkward moment, sticky note displaying a reluctant, narrow-eyed stare. I heard him take a breath before sighing “Fine.”

“Yes! Okie-dokie, space-man, what’s the haps?” I leaned forward even further to the point where I was almost falling out of my chair. 

“Never ask me what th’ ‘haps’ are again.” He pointed a finger in my direction. “And quit leanin’ like that. Yer gonn’ git yerself killed.” I did as he said. I wasn’t going to die before I heard this story. 

Norm took a moment to organize his thoughts before taking a few slow, careful steps in my direction. “The long n’ short of it is that I’m a time traveler.”

I nodded eagerly. “Yeah?”

He paused briefly. “Yer not gonn’ question that?” 

I tilted my head at him. “You wouldn’t believe the shit I’ve gone through, man. Time travel is one of the more believable things I’ve heard in the last couple of years. What’s the context?”

He blinked at me questioningly before continuing. “I used t’ work for NASA back in the days o’ President Crown’s… presidency. Since I had sum experience in th’ Air Force, they stuck me on a special mission.” What kind of backstory was this? How old was this guy? “They sent me int’ a wormhole.”

“Ahh, this is starting to make sense!” I clapped my hands together. “Lemme try to guess what happens next–”

He cut me off with a firm “No,” and I raised my hands in submission. He continued with his story. “Moseyed on int’ the wormhole, came out the other side, n’ everything had changed. Turned out it had been a good sixty years since I left. I landed on Earth, and everyone jus’ casually had phones fer heads. Mingus didn’t like the fact that I was reluctant to git one o’ my own, so she exiled me.” 

I whistled. “Damn…” 

Norm raised a Sharpied eyebrow before sighing. “Yeah. It’s pretty damn tough. I don’t even know if my wife and kids are still around.” There was a melancholy edge to his voice that gave me a sinking feeling in my stomach. If he were in his late twenties when he left– and that’s being incredibly generous– his wife would be in her late eighties or early nineties. If they were any older (which was likely)… the prospects were not looking good. His kids probably all left Dialtown, as kids often do.

I took a sharp breath through my food hole (gods, it’s so gross) and rested a hand above my dial. “I’m really sorry to hear that, man. If it helps, I understand– we’re in sort of similar boats.” 

He closed the distance between himself and the table I sat at to set down his now-cold mug of coffee. “I don’t think y’do, pardner. I’ll bet money that ya didn’t even know quantum jumpin’ was a real thing until jus’ now.”

I draped my arms over the back of the semi-rotted chair I sat in. “Wanna bet?”

“Bet.” His voice became firmer as he folded his arms across his chest. 

A feeling of relief and triumph rose in my chest. I would finally get to tell somebody about what happened without sounding like a crazy person. I cleared my throat. 

“It all started with a very amateur museum robbery with my best bud…

[wigglesforonce]

thank u for the tag keeb @vroombeams <3

Who is your favorite driver? Toss up between George and Oscar, depending on the day, vibes, and how many posts from Mark or Rosie i have recently read

Do you have other favorite drivers? i am known to enjoy logan-posting, and i always cheer for yuki points!! ill also say alex and lewis are up there

Who is your least favorite driver? obvious question to anyone who asks me. verstappen #1 (im enough of a hater to not realise that mv00 was meant as an insult as his championship, and not just what ppl would write to avoid using his name), and i am a respectful hater for norris, i keep it to myself and a specific whatsapp chat w someone

Do you pull for drivers or do you like teams as well? i am more of a fan of drivers than teams, but i do appreciate the legacies and histories of the constructors on the grid, as well as the camradery of everyone on track! love watching teams celebrate wins/points etc together

If you like teams, what team do you pull for? i am a fan of the more historical side of f1, so i am nostalgic for williams (even tho i wasnt even watching and/or alive lmao), but i will say if i buy official team merch it'll probably be merc stuff

How long have you been into F1? i've always been vaguely aware of it, but i first rly learnt abt it mid 2021, and then the first race i watched live was COTA 2021 (rip why did i miss half the best season ever for like 0 reason)

What got you into F1? if we're being hyperspecific, the trailer for DTS that had grosjean's crash from Bahrain 2020 - i decided to watch Telly during a holiday in like. march, and was scrolling netflix and saw a massive explosion and went 'oh SICK', and accidentally watched all of that season of DTS in one day. i then spent the next like 2 months just watching youtube videos abt f1 and went 'no i cant be obsessed w cars going around in circles' and voila. we're here

Do you enjoy Fanfic/RPF? as with the way i enjoy any piece of media, i read fanfiction before actually consuming the source material, so to answer the question: yes (i've stopped reading it much nowadays, just a few stories ive been long time subbed to cough jeddah george cough)

How do you view new fans? love to chat w them, and figure out how much they know! (in a fun 'omg ur into my fav topic' kind of way, not a 'list every race winner since 1950' kind of way). i was a new fan rather recently, so i remind myself of that whenever i eyeroll at a bad take on twitter.

If you could take over as team principal for any team, who would it be and why? redbull and sabotage the Hell out of the team. also earn some nice cash at the same time.

Are your friends and family into F1 as well? it took me a year and a half of being into f1 to find out that not only did my mum used to watch f1 in the 80s/90s, that my grandfather used to watch f1 WITH her but my UNCLE on the OTHER side of the FAMILY has a SIGNED AUTOGRAPH from SENNA that was sent off like a week before he DIED. i thought i was ALONE in my enjoyment GENUINELY.

i also got many of my friends into f1, and have made new friends both irl and online through shared love of it, so u know. Skillz.

Are you open to talking to other fans/making friends? uh ALWAYS. as i just said, i have made many a friend this way, and its just fun to talk abt the sport w other ppl, esp when they have different opinions to u!!

anyways looong post and i shall tag (w/ no pressure): @toilethamster @russilton @ininininininstayoutstayout @georgierre @gayorphandepression :D

[one-winged-dreams]

Rate Your Pain

ship: we came alive somehow (Adriel Wrynn + Vincent Valentine) word count: 1648 source: Final Fantasy VII (Dirge of Cerberus canon included)

oops, angsty monster lover fic ~oooOOOOooo~ i am LIVIIIIING for remake Vincent, let's fucking GOOOO

"So does it… hurt?"

Vincent regarded the gaze that accompanied bloodstained corneas and blank white where the iris should have been colored. He'd seen pictures, and he mourned for the earthy color of them he had never known.

"The…" he started, gesturing vaguely, to which Adriel nodded.

"The… changes. Do they… hurt you?" the researcher wrung his hands in his lap, possibly mulling over whether he should have bothered to ask.

An expanse of stars glittered overhead, the roof of one of the WRO buildings as close as they could be to reaching them, at least at that moment. Adriel had stated that he had never been on a proper airship before. At least that he could remember.

Vincent's own gaze turned back up to the night sky. He considered for a minute, then gave a light shrug.

"Never really paid enough attention to know, I guess."

Adriel frowned at this, his glasses slipping down his nose before he numbly adjusted them. "I see…" he half-mumbled as he kicked his feet.

There was a mostly comfortable silence for a few beats.

"Any particular interest, or…?" Vincent glanced over again with no particular expression.

This flustered Adriel, who blinked those wide eyes of his. Vincent always likened them to those of a doe. "I-I mean, from a certain standpoint, I g-g-guess."

"Which would be?" Vincent hadn't MEANT to box him into a corner. He probably wasn't even aware of the position he had put the researcher in.

Adriel puzzled for a moment, his sheets of black hair obscuring an amount of his face as he hunched over. "Uhm, well. You know I'm- Well, I am a biologist. Xenobiologist. Something like that. It's in my line of interest, I guess." As he spoke, he seemed to crumple a bit.

That was evidence enough, at least for Vincent.

"That's not what you mean, though."

This made Adriel perk a bit, peeking out through his hair curtains. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he afforded himself a moment to offer an honest reply. "N-No, I… You're right… I just…"

Vincent's hand coming down on his shoulder must have been a shock, the way his spine straightened so abruptly. Adriel blinked at him in bewilderment, his mouth opening and closing as if to try to find words where his mind could not.

"Do you want me to show you?" Vincent offered with a level of sincerity that made the words manage to materialize without thought.

"Would you?" Glasses were once again adjusted as Adriel spoke without realizing. Catching himself, he stammered again, "I-I mean, you absolutely don't have to, I know it can be a sore spot and I-"

But Vincent was already standing, carefully offering his hand out to the researcher. Adriel took it, because of course he would, rising to his feet and picking at the fringes on his lab coat sleeve. He regarded Vincent with an amount of amazement, unable to keep the fascination for his field off of his face. As he made to speak, Vincent lifted a hand to silence him. A mere offer of a slow blink and a nod of his head was enough to satisfy.

There was a building of pressure preluding the transformation, beginning quickly as a tempest of energies that instilled a sense of primordial fear. Adriel could only watch, frozen entirely at the sight of something he couldn't quite describe, unlike the roar that could only be summed up as bestial.

It was over nearly as quickly as it started, and a great maned creature stood before him. Adriel knew it well, he had seen the files.

The galian beast.

For that moment, the only thing remaining unfrozen were his eyes. He wasted no time trailing them up and down Vincent's changed form, taking shuddering breaths as he tried to take in what was being shown to him.

Stillness and silence were the only things that rang out, and the only movement between either of them was the subtle trembling that began to wrack Adriel's body.

"Vincent…" he managed to breathe out.

It seemed as if Vincent didn't realize what kind of power he exuded, or rather, was too preoccupied with idealistic fantasies. He took a step forward, reaching out to his confidant without thinking of the kind of reaction it would instill.

Adriel jerked backward, seeming to have done it without a thought. He realized this in a second, Vincent's clawed hand dropping down to his side in crushing self-realization. His doubt and pain were palpable, wrenching Adriel's heart in a moment of agonized understanding.

"Vincent, wait," he called out, voice wavering.

The beast did not speak, and Adriel didn't even think to wonder if he could. He stumbled forward, Vincent's head lifting slightly at the mirror of an outstretched hand. When the researcher reached him, the massive difference in Vincent's height towered over him. He must have been a menacing sight, unable to keep himself from regarding the way Adriel still trembled.

"Vincent…" Adriel repeated as his hand lifted, wavering only slightly.

Vincent hadn't expected contact, the doubt lingered all the way to the end. Every second Adriel's hand moved towards him was a second he was prepared to see nullified by fear, it was only then that he had begun to regret.

The way Adriel's touch graced the side of his face, all he could feel for that moment was numb. A moment of disbelief so intense it warped perspective reality. Surely this wasn't happening.

And then it was. The walls began to come down, not as a crumble but as a curtain gently floating to the floor. The warmth seeped in as if transferring love and life directly from Adriel's hand. Vincent realized he hadn't been able to bring his gaze to meet his partner's, the thought of it almost making the act harder in its own right. But Adriel's fingers were ever so gentle as they glided through the fur just past those perilous jaws.

Despite the way he looked now, the monstrous visage of a twisted experiment, Vincent's golden gaze was anything but feral. As their eyes met, there was no death and destruction to be dealt. Vincent had never had to consider what this form would do when not serving a violent cause. The thought had never crossed his mind, not once.

And right now, as he pressed the side of his face into that gentle touch, it didn't matter. Nothing to think about, just be. It wasn't so much a profound moment of realization, but maybe that's all he could do, just for a while. No matter what form, he was Vincent.

This moment of awareness was interrupted as he realized that Adriel was crying, tearing up at the minimum. Incapable of speech, he let out an alarmed huff, lifting his lethal claws but pausing as the researcher gave a weary smile, a silent motion to quell his concerns.

"Oh, Vincent. You really are a sweet guy, aren't you?" Adriel's voice wavered with emotion but nothing the least bit negative. He regarded Vincent for a moment - his eyes were soft, so much so that Vincent could practically see that warm brown that was taken from him with such heinous cruelty. A chuckle earned an inquisitive blink, and Adriel's fingers moved through his fur with more intimacy than he could ever conceive this form receiving.

"And not just a little bit handsome… In any shape."

Vincent tried to ponder on this for a moment, that teary-eyed smile confounding him as if a mysterious intrigue lay beyond. All he could do was blink, tilting his head slightly as he was wont to doing.

"And in any shape… I'll always…"

A few beats of silence passed with the thumps of their hearts. Vincent hadn't even been aware of the way his head had begun to dip down with Adriel's gently persuasive touch. Not that he could have prepared for what his intentions were, entirely inconceivable as they were.

The gentle kiss placed upon his muzzle stuttered his reality to another gentle halt. Time did not pass in that instance, the only thing that existed was that delicate display of unconditional affection. A term used only because the deeper alternative was, at the time, too much to bear.

The expression lasted only long enough for Vincent to reach out and grab the moment, consuming it to re-shape the reality that had fallen out from under his feet. It existed within him now, and it would never go away.

Adriel, however, did not give him the chance to see his new expression - vulnerability was still hard to share, and oh, how vulnerable he was. Instead, he bore himself to the very real rhythm of Vincent's heart as he pushed himself under his muzzle, burying his face into the fur on his chest. Vincent unconsciously allowed himself to be embraced, recovering from another bout of existential numbness as that same warmth of life seeped from one to the other again. How fortuitous it was that he could not speak, as he could not currently think of anything appropriate for the occasion. Realization dawned on him - he needn't say anything at all. Adriel did not expect a verbose response or flowery words of affection that would be insultingly incapable of translating the feelings he held. This was fine, this was okay.

They were okay.

As he lowered his head to brush against Adriel's, his arms were no weapon to be brought against violent opposition. They only were, nothing else but a part of him. And this part of him that had always felt like a curse was now a generous gift, one that he could freely use to express his deepest feelings with no particular words.

As he brought those arms around his comparably tiny companion, he closed his eyes.

At least for now, it did not hurt.

[wawawawawawawawawawawawawa]

hello durarara and or izaya tag people and or my followers i need ur help <3

so! im putting together an essay pitch about izaya for a magazine, and i want to get my hands on as many things as possible. so far ive seen all of season 1 and ive started on season 2, and i plan to read the two izaya spinoff novels. now, i havent read the original drr novels yet, and i'm vaguely aware of supplemental material, but i have no clue what it is, where to find it, or how much of it there is.

so my question is: izaya fans, Is There Anything I Need To Know About? are there any moments specifically in the novels that shine a greater light on izaya's actions? (i'm mainly focusing on his personality in the essay, and his ostracization and isolation from society) anything in any supplemental material i'm unaware of? when i say "i am writing an essay about izaya's personality and his isolation," do you immidiatley think of a certain scene or novel excerpt or what have you to be included? i want it! i want to know what the general consensus on Important Izaya Moments is, and i want to know if there are any sources i've missed.

anyway if u read all this thank yewwww <3 of course i dont plan to submit my pitch till after i watched the whole show and read the izaya spinoff novels, and i have a couple months to prepare so i won't rush- i just want to know what yall think~ so ya thank youuuu

[katyspersonal]

That's like me first time seeing this

Also, while I was desperately trying to find where 'Agatha' came from, I've ended up looking at official DLC guide that I've never seen before ( x ). I never was able to lay my dirty hands on official merch of this kind (and now never will again), but looks like I was kinda wrong:

All five of you remember my interpretation, right? I find it strange because not only all clues towards Willem still being important and relevant in the Healing Church are still in the game plain and clear, but also even in Japanese title for Laurence, his status refers to "the guy that replaces the ACTUAL leader of [religious institution]" ( x ).

It does not change... too much? But yeah, I will have to loosen my theory up and properly keep Willem as someone who stayed behind in Byrgenwerth, simply writing it as Healing Church still had contact with him (that secret cave in the woods, Yurie the Last SCHOLAR(!), that Church Giant in Lecture Hall, Byrgenwerth doing the Fishing Hamlet yet that's considered Church's secret, Willem and Byrgenwerth being aware of Laurence's Moon Presence and Gehrman even asking Willem to free him etc)... until it was declared "forbidden" later, for the same reason why Oedon Chapel ended up rumoured as cringefail place. I was moving towards it anyways, but now just more certainly! So, Byrgenwerth and Healing Church WERE in tight contact even after Laurence started doing his thing but Willem didn't help to found shit, he just layed back and watched the youth learn from their mistakes lol.

This also means that this altair is more likely not how Willem used to look, but Laurence, when I thought the opposite was true:

On the other hand:

The guide confirms what already was in the game but is often glossed over by the fandom; that Fishing Hamlet massacre was order of WILLEM and not Laurence and even devs say there is legit connection, that Willem wants us to hunt Rom and that Amelia was not a direct successor of Laurence but there were other Vicars that can make cool OCs!

Otherwise, nothing new was learned! Just that fiiiiine, I will return Laurence his proper role and push Willem back to be little to none active in Healing Church's life like it was meant to be. I wish I've seen this statement on the nose before, and not some vague cutscene with many other things in the game pointing towards a different interpretation 🙄 (@val-of-the-north come begrudgingly sing the Wrong Song with me xd (Okay I am joking, like I said it barely changes our story, just makes Willem elbowed away stronger. he still dresses like a pope tho so Byrgenwerth totally was a theocratical school)).

..... ah, shit, right, Agatha

Yeah me and the girls figured out that it was just a placeholder name that stuck and no official source ever called Chapel Dweller that. Not even in the same name as how Djura used to be called Guyla in promo materials, like... ever. Chapel Dweller was and IS a nameless babygirl.