#Sankta at Work

[lateranoexe]

Working intently on any missions and reports while hooking his wifi cables to his Halo Chip. Making use of this while doing his work.

[lunarthecorvus]

What do you think Kaz and Inej would do for work if Kaz retired from being a barrel boss and Inej retired from being a Captain?

I picture Inej running a slave hunting operation from wherever she lives and occasionally breaking her retirement and joining a voyage. For Kaz I think that he still advises The Dregs but what else he does I am not sure.

[hyper-fixated-princess]

Anyone have some good Zoyalai fic recommendations?

[kc5rings]

Saileach putting her mouth on Outcasts gun barrel.

[marvelmusing]

Why can I write 6.5K words of a Darklina x Reader AU (which I still haven’t finished) and that gives me joy, but when I write maybe fifty words of my dissertation it’s not enough and I want to cry?

[scifielves]

When the serious sniper on loan from Laterano finally says something to you and she asks you if you can fuck her stupid and maybe humiliate her a little.

Tie her up and make a mess of her, you know.

Oh, and if you could keep this on the down low, it'd be great. She enjoys her reputation.

[studentofetherium]

thinking about my Tsukihime/Arknights AU again and torn between thinking Ciel should be a feline (because she’s French) or she should be a Sankta (because she’s Catholic)

[martinakl13]

I think a lot about what the way they talk can tell us about our Crows. For example, interjections.

Unsurprisingly, Nina and Inej use all variants with Saints (Saints; All Saints; For Saints' sake) and Wylan uses Ghezen (Ghezen; Ghezen and his works). Matthias of course has Djel (Djel; Sweet Djel; For Djel's sake).

Now comes the interesting part. Jesper uses Saints, many times in his own creative way (Saints; All Saints; For Saints' sake; All Saints and your Aunt Eve; All Saints and the donkeys they rode in on) and (!) he also uses Ghezen (Sweet Ghezen). It's quite obvious that Jesper adopted Ghezen during his long stay in Ketterdam, but since he uses Saints much more often, it seems like something he got from his father as a child, since Colm also said many similar things in CK (All Saints; Saints; For Saints' sake). Do they recognise Saints on Wandering Isle? Probably.

And then there's Kaz. What do you think of his interjections? Have you noticed or thought about it? Kaz out loud never used any! Not Ghezen, not Saints, not Djel. There is only one exception where the interjection was part of his inner monologue.

Chapter 3, SoC:

"As Kaz headed down one of the little canals that would take him past Fifth Harbour, he realised he felt – Saints, he almost felt hopeful."

Oh yes, Kaz in his head when no one could hear him automatically used Saints and it wasn't because he wanted to mentally tease Inej about her Saints. I think the moment he felt almost hope, something from his past slipped out of the dark parts of his mind where he buried everything related to his family. Do we know for sure that Ghezen is the only god the Kerch people know? What about people from the countryside? Do they honour the god of industry, commerce and trade, or someone else who is closer to them? Who remembers where Marya Hendriks was kept? The Church of Saint Hilde. In addition, we also know two Kerch saints, Sankta Margaretha and Sankt Emerens. Coincidence? I don't think so.

[autumnnnsun]

Now that I’ve finished reading Hortus de Escapismo and Executor’s record, I really gotta ramble about Executor for a second and kinda talk abt how Arknights handles his lack of empathy trait that I really enjoy. This isn’t a proper analysis or anything just my thoughts I wanna vomit for a sec.

So it’s implied in Executor’s record that he just, wasn’t born having empathy despite being a sankta. Or at least he just naturally doesn’t have the same levels of understanding of emotion as other sankta. The part that I really like about it is how Executor’s Record and story in general doesn’t portray that as a necessarily bad thing.

His lack of empathy allows him to think in a way that is a lot more unique than other sankta. When his partner in his record story told him to sacrifice him, he still brought his body back to Laterano. One of the reason being because of a specific sentence in the will they were enacting (“I hope all Laterans return back to their home.” Smth that most people would assume is just smth the will writer wrote for some extra literary flare) but also because he disregarded his partner’s feelings. His lack of empathy is the reason why he did something good and that is very interesting to me especially when most people tend to demonise having low/no empathy.

I also just really like how in his record story, it’s emphasised that he knows what emotions ARE. He has developed a system with his parents to recognise and visualise emotions by drawing lines that represent them. He knows what it is, he can recognise it to a level where he can think of the next best course of action when confronted with it, he just doesn’t put much importance on it nor does he bother with understanding it for the most part. Especially if it’s something that will get in the way of his job. And I REALLY like that cus it reminds me of how people irl that have low empathy will develop systems to work around it and still be kind.

I know a lot of us joke about Executor being autistic and that’s funny and I like the jokes as much as everyone else, but low or no empathy is a trait of other mental disorders and disabilities and even as someone that hasn’t been diagnosed with anything yet it still feels kinda nice to see low empathy being portrayed in a way that isn’t villanious.

In fact, Executor having low empathy kinda makes him the best person in the room sometimes especially in Hortus de Escapismo. The part where he does a warning shot at Oren and Lemuen and essentially goes “Can ya’ll STOP I’m trying to do my JOB.” And essentially manages to stop a massacre because of it is so funny but also so fucking hype bruv. I like how in the end of the event when Executor was starting to ask more questions and have more doubts and was starting to let emotions affect his actions a bit more, it isn’t framed as like “Oh mah gerd, he’s learning empathy and being more hooman!”

Instead he’s asking questions and seeking to find solutions to them in his own unique way. Asking around and adding more variables to his thought process like a computer would (which has some implications that gets my lore brain churning but hrghrghrgh)

Top it all of with the fact that he is specifically a character that is born and raised in a society that values empathy. Being able to feel other people’s emotions is what makes you a sankta. And Executor, is one of the better sanktas because he doesn’t follow that rule.

God I love Executor, go son, thrive.

[ouroborosorder]

I once heard someone say that because Arknights' disability representation is mostly tied to their fantasy turbo-cancer, then it doesn't feel like real disabled representation, and I've been unable to get it out of my head, like a piece of popcorn stuck in my teeth. So, rather than doing my homework like I'm supposed to be, I want to talk about why I disagree and why I love Arknights' approach to disability.

So, for those who are unaware, Arknights has a shockingly high amount of disabled characters, and characters who are disabled in a lot of different ways, both caused by being Infected and just being disabled in the way that normal people are. Nightingale has chronic pain, Lemuen is the best sniper in Laterano while being in a wheelchair, Akafuyu is mostly blind, Eyja has severe hearing loss, Rosmontis has severe memory loss, Amiya has very severe PTSD, I could go on and on.

And of course there'd be a lot of operators with disabilities! Rhodes Island is a medical organization dedicated towards long-term care of terminally ill patients. Of course many of them would develop disabilities, and of course Rhodes would have the resources and facilities to help them. They even make notes of how to treat them in their medical files, like how Ejyafjalla's has a little guide on how to best have a conversation with her. It makes perfect sense, but I can't say a lot of games would think about it on that level.

And that why I like this game's approach to disability so much. A lot of video games just treat disability as "someone missing an arm" or "someone in a wheelchair because of Their Injuries From Combat. It's usually treated as an individual thing, just someone who got hurt, or who maybe has a frail constitution or whatever. But in Arknights, disability isn't simply treated as a character trait for individuals, but as part of the worldbuilding itself. The world is largely defined by Oripathy, this fatal degenerative disease with no cure. And the Infected are treated as second-class citizens, considered free labor that they don't have to treat ethically because they're dying anyway. The writers realized that this would cause severe disability, both real and fantastical, and worked it into the story and world.

This runs the other way, too! Arknights' worldbuilding follows a sort of social model of disability, in a way. There's a lot of fantasy stories that treat the inability to use magic as a sort of disability, but to Arknights, it's... not. Because Arts require specialized training, and so a lot of people just don't know how to use them, and might not even know they can't use Arts. So it's not treated as such, even though it is still a physical inability to perform things other people can.

But on the other end, Laterano's culture is based around the Sankta having empathic communication between each other. Mostima, as a fallen angel, can't use this telepathy anymore, and she speaks about how othering it feels sometimes, to be physically unable to engage with an important part of her culture. While it's not explicitly stated as a disability to the Lateran culture, I certainly feel like it's treated as one to some degree. Namely that it's explicitly contrasted with Fiametta's PTSD rendering her unwilling to empathize with the people around her, as opposed to Mostima's physical inability. It's the fantasy disability treated with the same weight as real world disability, because within the world of Terra, they're the same thing.

And of course there's just some of the more fucked up fantasy stuff like "On top of her existing narcolepsy, Ptilopsis was forced to become plural after she had to have part of her brain replaced with a computer that forces her to speak and think like a computer or else it causes her severe mental stress to the point of physical pain." Which uh. I don't know where that fits in the conversation but jesus christ someone hug that owl

Of course, its representation isn't always perfect. Just off the top of my head, Nightmare is a pretty rough stereotype, with the whole "Oripathy gave her multiple personality disorder with a violent personality trying to take control of her body!!" trope. And, of course, I'm sure other people have complaints with the representation of their disability in ways that I'm not aware of because I only have the perspective I have.

But... what I remember about this game's treatment of disability isn't when it fails. What I remember is reading Glaucus' module for the first time, the story of the first time she ever put on the mechanical exo-suit legs that allowed her to walk for the first time in her life. And I started bawling my fucking eyes out. I cried because, even though I don't know the specific feeling of walking for the first time in years, I know well what she felt. That feeling of liberation from something you secretly feared was just who you are now. Even though you know it won't be a perfect solution, the physically choking emotion that you're able to get a little closer to a normalcy you've always wanted. The feeling that right now, the only thing you can do is run like the wind.

[mmgwritings]

UNKNOWN / NTH

Characters: Kaz Brekker / Sun Summoner ! Reader

Prompt: when alina starkov fails to destroy the fold, kaz brekker discovers the true power of the saints.

Warnings: angst, canon divergence, shadow and bone season 2, main character death, definitely didn't proof read, kaz suffering, fjerda sun summoner.

The nichevo'ya bore down upon us and Sankta Alina was struggling to wield her power while shielding the group from the volcras. Waves of terror swept over us when the screeches of the volcras echoed around in the dark. Beside me, Jesper whispered curses as he loaded more bullets into his pistols and Wylan knelt down to search for more gunpowder in the bag.

"Got everything we need, Wylan? We're not going to a picnic, you know" Jesper quipped, a nervous grim in his face. "We're definitely going to die"

Then, the nichevo'ya breached Alina's protection with the Darkling behind them. Inej, quick as lightning, drew her sword "neshyenyer" and sprang into action. With the blade gleaming in the dim light she enganged the shadow monsters in a fight which each swing of her sword was precise.

Y/N didn't wait and started shooting at the shadows. Jesper's pistols were also aimed and ready. He stood at the forefront of the remains of the First Army, with King Nikolai at his side, shooting and desperately trying to get a clear shot amidst the chaos of battle.

Nothing was working. It seems that don't matter how hard we fight the darkness didn't falter, and then, as if and overwhelming force had descedend upon us, Alina's light protection crumbled completely. We were now exposed to all the horrors of the Fold.

"Come on, run!" screamed Nina. She grabbed my hand and pushed me through a door in the fortress as the battalion scattered, desperately seeking refuge in other rooms. Jesper, Wylan, and Kaz ran close behind us, with Zoya supporting Nikolai's injured side and Mal dragging Alina.

We entered a training courtyard, with the remnants of the battle between the Darkling's Grisha and the First Army still visible. Volcra dragged the bodies of the fallen and descended from the skies in droves. The place was engulfed in chaos, and the sounds of combat reverberated all around. A volcra swooped over our group, seizing one of Nikolai's soldiers. His screams faded into the darkness.

"We're too exposed here!" Kaz shouted as he began striking his cane against the old door lock, which gave way without much effort. "Let's go, get inside!"

Kaz led us through a series of corridors, candles still burned and provided a faint glow to guide our way. The air was heavy with tension, and the sounds of death echoed from outside.

In a small, dimly lit room, we finally regrouped. Mal and Alina were gasping for breath, their faces pale, while Nikolai's wound was tended to by Zoya and Nina. Kaz was busy devising a plan, the gears of his mind turning even in the midst of chaos. Jesper and Wylan stood ready, pistols and bombs in hand, guarding the entrance.

Alina, even though visibly shaken, looked at each of us with fierce determination. "We may be cornered, but we're not done yet," she declared. "We fight, and we survive. This is not how our story ends."

"Well, whatever your plan is, Sanka, you'd better make it quick," Kaz said coldly. He had never believe in saints; this wouldn't be the moment. "You have amplifiers, don't you? Why aren't they working?"

Alina paled. "Mal... Mal is the third amplifier. Baghra told me that only with his death will I have enough power to destroy the Fold." A heavy silence settled in the room.

Alina would have to kill Mal, the man she loved. Y/N had always known that a Grisha's powers were cursed. She was born in a village in Fjerda, raised under the belief of Djel, but saw her world shattered when she discovered her powers. For her sins, for her curse, her family was murdered by the villagers. In a last desperate attempt, her sister handed her over to a Kaelish slave trader, which is how she ended up in the pleasure houses of Ketterdam.

Y/N had suppressed her powers since then, rarely using, and no one knew about them... no one except Kaz Brekker, the man who set her free. Kaz needed a spy, and she was perfect for the mission. Years later, Y/N was still working for Kaz — murdering for Kaz.

Kaz discovered Y/N's sun summoner powers by chance when a mission went awry, and they needed to escape. SHe had to blind two of their pursuers from the stadwatch and for the first time, she feared Kaz. She thought he might sell her, turn her over to Ravka, or auction her off to the Drüskelle.

But that day never came. He never spoke a word about Y/N being Grisha, never asked her to use her powers... and that was how she began to fall in love with Kaz.

Alina's eyes welled with tears as she looked at Mal, her voice trembling. "I know, but I can't bear the thought of losing you."

Mal reached out, gently wiping away her tears. "We've faced so much together, Alina. This is just one more sacrifice we must make for the greater good."

Kaz, still resolute, added, "We don't have much time. We have to make a plan"

Tears streamed down Alina's face as she nodded, knowing the weight of the decision they had to make.

That's not fair, i thought. And, as she was capable of reading my mind, Inej, who had been quietly listening, spoke softly, "Life isn't always fair, but the choices we make define us. We'll support you, Sankta Alina, no matter what you decide."

Zoya, her expression soft, added, "It's a hard choice, but it's one that could save countless lives. Or, maybe we can find a way... Nina, how fast can you cure him?"

Nina, her face filled with concern, replied, "I'll do my best, Zoya, but it might take time. We can't afford to wait too long."

The room was filled with a shared sense of determination as they began to explore every possibility, but we didn't have time. Outside a cry pierced the air. It was the Darkling, leading the charge of the dark forces.

It won't work. I realized this just by looking at the determined way Alina gazed at Mal – she would never sacrifice him to save the world. She's not capable, just like Nina isn't capable of healing him in time. Mal would have to die, and Alina couldn't be the one to kill him.

"Maybe there's another way" I whispered.

Inej, her eyes filled with hope, asked, "What do you have in mind?" at the same time that Kaz a loudly "No"

My voice gained a touch of determination as I responded, "We can't let Mal die, but we also can't let the Darkling win. We need to find a different source of amplification, something that doesn't involve taking a life."

Confusion hung heavy in the room as Kaz stepped forward, his face masked by controlled fury. "You're not going to," he said "I'll not allow it"

"It's not your decision to make, Kaz," I replied, my tone resolute.

Kaz's eyes bore into mine, a battle of wills silently raging between us. "You can't expect me to stand by while you kill yourself."

"Believe me, that's not my intention," I said with a sly smile. But smiles never fooled Kaz. He know me, perhaps the only person in the world who truly know me.

We're complicated people, each with our own traumas, but over the years, we've learned to share some of our past. Kaz told me about Jordie, the farm, the con and I told him about fjerda, the blood, the slavery.

Once, at the slat, on a rainy night, Kaz's expression softened slightly as he said "We've both carried our burdens, but it's made us who we are. It's what's kept us alive in this unforgiving world."

We became friends, confidants, and slowly, we tried to be something more. He can't stand being touched, and I can't stand being seen — two of the most broken people in the Barrel, trying to shed their armor.

In the quiet of that rainy night in the Slat's office, we dared to be vulnerable. Kaz's gloved hand hesitated, almost touching mine, as if testing the boundaries of his aversion to contact.

I whispered, "Kaz, it's okay. You can trust me."

He looked into my eyes, a storm of emotions flickering in his gaze, but he didn't pull away. His gloved hand met mine, the moment felt like a breakthrough, a chink in the armor we had built around ourselves.

In that fragile connection, we found solace in each other's company, knowing that we didn't have to be alone in the darkness of the world.

I let the memories fade away. Kaz was standing in front of me, shielding me from the eyes of the others.

"I have to do this, Kaz. You know that," I whispered, moving closer to him, my hand softly touching his fingers.

Kaz, his gaze unwavering, finally nodded in reluctant agreement. "I know, but it doesn't mean I have to let you go alone"

Dread coursed through my body when I realized that Kaz was going with me. If I couldn't make it, he would end up dying with me.

"No, you're staying here," I said, but Kaz simply turned his back and began giving orders to Jesper and Wylan to prepare reinforcements. "KAZ!" I shouted, panic-stricken. I ran over and stood in his way, and I did something I had never dared before – I held his face.

"You're not going alone, Y/N" he said, his eyes locked onto mine, "If you go, I'm going with you."

I removed my hands from Kaz's face when I noticed he was turning pale. Jesper, like everyone else, was confused, so he said "I'm not sure what's happening."

I couldn't explain further because, at that moment, a terrible noise descended upon us. Something was tearing the door apart. We all rushed towards the other exit leading to the hill. The Darkling's nichevo'ya circled the grass like vultures, destroying any form of life. Nikolai, Mal, and Jesper began firing their pistols.

Then, he appeared. The Darkling was still handsome, even with his face partially marred by the corruption of merzost. His eyes blazed with fury as he spoke to Alina.

"You can't escape me, Alina. Your powers belong to me, and you will give them willingly or by force."

Sankta Alina, her voice filled with defiance said "I'll never willingly give you anything, and you'll never control me again."

She then attempted to strike him with a beam of light, but it was strangely weak. When it hit the Darkling, he absorbed the light as if it were nothing.

A twisted smile appeared on the herege face. "You see, my little saint, you can't fight destiny. Your powers are mine to command."

Sankta Alina couldn't do anything to stop him. Y/N had to intervene while the Darkling believed he had everything in his grasp.

She looked at Kaz and whispered a "I'm sorry" with a small smile o her face, one that Kaz knew it was filled with sorrow.

Kaz expression hardened, he simply nodded and said, "Just make it count."

Y/N, being more experienced in sun summons than Alina, definitely didn't need an amplifier to perform the cut.

With confidence born of her expertise, Y/N channeled her power, a blinding ray of red sunlight cutting through the room and striking the Darkling. He let out a searing scream as the light consumed him, writhing in pain. It was a scream of pain and surprise. As the rest of the world, he believe that existed only one sun summoner.

The room was filled with a blinding radiance, and for a moment, it seemed like the Darkling's corruption might be purged. But as the light dimmed, his sinister form slowly re-emerged, and it became apparent that the battle was far from over.

"Alright, let's see how strong you are," Y/N said as she unleashed waves of light upon the nichevo'ya.

The nichevo'ya screeched in agony as they were engulfed by the brilliant light, their dark forms dissipating in its radiance. In the midst of the battle, the Grisha and first army all rallied behind her, recognizing that Y/N's power might just be the key to turning the tide against the Darkling's forces.

The sky crackled with energy as she fought the darkness. Y/N unleashed all her power, releasing every ounce of her strength, and gradually, with bursts of radiant lightning, the Fold dissipated. Volcras burned and plummeted from the skies.

Volcras and nichevo'ya fell one after the other, their malevolent forms vanquished by the searing light.

Y/N's power illuminated the battlefield, then, as a final blow, Y/N performed the cut, unlike the initial one which was merely to test the strength of the heretic. This one was hot, sharp, and incredibly potent.

But it wasn't enough. Remnants of the Darkling's cut hit her chest. She fell to the ground, struggling to breathe, her chest burning.

In her most haunting nightmares, Y/N is always alone when she die. Typically, it begins with a startling realization that her demise is finally upon her. She feel her heart struggling to keep beating, even under the weight of a perfectly aimed dagger. The cries of my family have faded into silence, and Y/N, like any other ordinary person, is capable of facing death.

But this time, everything feels too vivid, too different, as if a new nightmare is taking shape. She taste the metallic tang of blood in her mouth, choking and bringing tears to her eyes. Strangely, she don't experience any pain; in fact, she doesn't feel much of anything except an intense cold, even though the sun shines brightly above.

What makes this new nightmare the worst is his presence.

Kaz looms above Y/N, his brown eyes hidden behind unshed tears. His voice sounds muffled, as if speaking from beneath murky waters. He speaks in desperation, making threats and offering impossible promises... promises about love.

Y/N, gasping for breath, managed a weak smile. "Not... on your... watch."

Kaz, his usual mask of indifference cracking, held her hand tightly, his gloved fingers trembling. "You better not."

But Y/N wasn't feeling the warmth of his hands and breathing was becoming a difficult task. Blood coated her mouth, and her vision blurred as Kaz's face slowly faded from focus, Nina was by his side, trying to tend to the gaping wound in Y/N's chest.

Nothing seemed to work; there was some kind of dark poison, a residue of the Darkling's merzost, in her body preventing the wound from closing.

Y/N loved Kaz's eyes; often, they couldn't lie as convincingly as his words. It was through Kaz's eyes that she knew. Kaz couldn't hide the worry and helplessness in his gaze. For the first time, he wasn't able to find a solution to the problem at hand, and it weighed heavily on him.

It didn't hurt, it wasn't tumultuous at all.

Yet, it was bittersweet to know that someone who had never believed in saints, who had never begged, and who had never touched another person for fear of the dead, had done all of that for her.

For the first time that year, the sun shone in Ravka, but when Y/N opened her eyes, winter was closing in around her.

In the distance, an ash tree stood tall, beckoning like an invitation.

[lateranoexe]

It was a long day for Federico, aka Executor. He has just returned to Rhodes Island after what seemed like a year or so. How things had changed. When he was last here, he was doing Notarial Work, checking up on Laterano citizens, and assisting the doctor in their involvement with Reunion, and other problematic situations until he was recalled back to Laterano and assigned a task by the Pope to investigate a few problems elsewhere. It was only then when he returned, things have changed. The environment at Rhodes Island had changed. More people, the cold frigidness the place once gave was filled with warmth. Is it because of him and his awareness or has time really did things in? But there is one individual he had been curious about. IF she is still around that is. The one and only, the She Devil herself. She who is unpredictable, uncatchable and hard to detain due to her devilish nature. Flamebringer was one thing but her? This requires more work than he thought. But it's been a couple of years... so how is she now? Best to look into her whereabouts to find out. " ... Operator W has recently returned to the ship about a month ago with a few comrades of her own. I see. I will go interrogate her and assess her given situation and make a report. " @thewdevil

[tainbocuailnge]

executor stands out among sankta because he's epic autism man but in particular as far as I know he's not outright cut off from the empathy network like fallen angels are, he just doesn't know or care what to do with the information he receives through the empathy network. so much sankta racism comes from the very primal feeling of "i don't understand Those guys the way I understand My guys" which like, will happen if you can instinctively grasp the emotions of Your guys but have to extrapolate the feelings and intentions of anyone else based on context clues. but that doesn't work on executor because he doesn't have an instinctive understanding of emotion so even if he gets his fellow sankta's feelings beamed directly into his brain he still has to extrapolate and rationalise what those Mean the same he would for any non-sankta. he's extremely resistant to groupthink despite being literally hooked up to an empathy network and it's very hard to fool him for long because he goes around life having to carefully observe and reason based on evidence and experience what the Fuck anyone ever is going on about. feelings are ambiguous and arbitrary but the letter of the law is clear. use your words and say what you mean if you want people to understand you.

i haven't read any of arturia's CN materials so this is just the feeling i get from her limited screentime in hortus but i think she might actually be pretty similar to him on that front. she's fascinated by people's emotions and wants to see their strongest desires acted upon in their purest most unfiltered form and she wanders around using her emotion amplifying arts to get to see this happen. she doesn't really have a filter herself either she rants at length about her misanthropic views to a pair of four year olds. the vibe i get is that she has a similar inability to instinctively understand the information she receives through her empathy and while for fedex the lack of intrinsic understanding leads to relying on logical reasoning and using his big boy words to bridge that gap she's instead fascinated by seeing emotions acted on so intensely and unambiguously that anyone can understand. or maybe to the extent that it becomes incomprehensible to everyone. it really stands out to me that the two of them are the only known sankta whose halos aren't white or pastel especially because the event specifically mentioned that fedex's halo glows as bright as any other sankta's and isn't dimmed like a fallen angel's or anything. even half-sarkaz cecelia has a bright white halo.

[arknights-imagines]

Tbh I was thinking of a scenario in my head about doktah (or U) being injured and Rico was taking care of U and U cupped his cheek and called him pretty, he was confused but flustered a bit (insert glitching computer sounds) anyway i luv u and anyone who’s reading this 😍

- 🐲 anon

Hiya there 🐲 anon! Tysm for your request (and I love you too sbsuwh 🥰!!)

I knew I wanted one of the first things I posted after being away for v long to be a request for Executor/'Rico, so your request was perfectly timed and I loved your idea lots aaa! It's v v cute and I feel it fits Executor/'Rico v well 🥺💕!!

I'm a li'l nervous since I feel I'm a bit rusty shiuhge 😭...! But, I had fun with this one and it feels good to be back aaa I hope I did Executor justice here 🙏

Anywho, to you and everyone else, I hope you all enjoy 🥰!!

Taglist for Executor/All Writing!:

@donsofwaste

@tiredstudents

@marahuyos

@vesvic

@cl3v-j

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Error

Imagine format; mostly in the perspective of the reader, written in second person!

Contains: Executor, gender-neutral Operator as the reader, acquaintances to crushes relationship lolojshd, mentions of things and references to lots of from Executor's archive files, minor injuries and violence, the reader is one of Rhodes Island's Elite Operators, the reader is a li'l bit of a flirt lololsjs, nameless and gender-neutral Doctor as a background character, humour, fluff 💕!

Word count: a little over 2.7k!

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All Rhodes Island Operators were allowed to work alongside and be dispatched on Operations with each other. Such was a simple fact, and an obvious one; of course it would be bizarre for Rhodes Island, with their policy of levelling all who they employ as equal and for not tolerating discrimination irrespective of one’s reasons, to restrict certain Operators from being assigned into Squads together.

The case of Executor, however, was unavoidably more complicated different.

While all Rhodes Island Operators were allowed to be sent into combat with Executor - that didn’t mean all Rhodes Island Operators were willing to be sent into combat with Executor.

When you had approached the Doctor regarding the subject before boarding the transport that was to take you to the site of your next Operation - you had been assigned to an Operation, along with a party of other Elite Operators that included the Sankta in question, that was a hostage-rescue in Columbia -, they looked off to where Executor was stood counting his ammunition nearby then shrugged.

You had tilted your head to the side and so the Doctor elaborated, “He’s more than capable of handling the perimeter of the Operation ite by himself, and besides, no one on the Squad was agreed to being deployed with him. It’s not unusual, considering his… reputation.” A lift of one of your eyebrows was paired with a puzzled mutter, “But, it’d still be better for him to have some sort of back up. And, what ‘reputation’? Do you mean how he has those people from the Engineering Department always flirting with him?”

It was the Doctor’s turn to tilt their head to the side now, before their voice left them slowly, “No, that’s not what I was-…” They paused, studying your facial features then shifting their gaze from you to Executor, “I was referring to other...things…”

Be it his direct completion of any combat task assigned to him, the immense amount of collateral damage left in nearly all of his mission sites, or that account from the deeply-fazed Operator who was deployed as his partner once, of how Executor barehandedly tore out the heart of a beast directly from its chest - that last one had soon become a Rhodes Island horror story, reimagining Executor as some form of a boogieman impersonating as a Sankta -, majority of Operators had an excuse as to why they would prefer not to be near the ever-composed Sankta during Operations.

The Doctor had long observed a pattern in your behaviour when near Executor, that was in stark contrast to everyone else; though his presence caused most to snap their back straight and tighten the line of their shoulders, your posture when with him instead was always eased with not even the slightest indicator of tension.

Perhaps then, there was one Operator willing to be sent into combat with Executor, the Doctor reassessed.

Such reassessment is the reason as to why you and Executor were in the position you both were currently - together on a short rooftop in order to provide ranged support as the rest of the Squad rescued the hostages and subdued the hostiles.

The choice to deploy you with Executor was surprisingly beneficial, as two pairs of eyes are better at one pair in regards to surveying for threats. Despite that the rest of the Squad had initially looked at the Doctor as though they’d grown a pair of Sarkaz ears and gained a Phidian tail all at once, they now concluded yours and Executor’s position together for this Operator as all part of the Doctor’s plan.

However, you would’ve argued that your eyes slowly becoming more occupied with staring at the Sankta in wordless awe - those rumours about how his appearance was candy for one’s eyes were in fact not simple rumours at all, you realized - rather than your eyes being focused on the Operation site below and the surrounding area, was not part of the Doctor’s plan.

You would’ve argued again that your distracted state caused by Executor’s close proximity resulting in you failing to notice the hostile crossbowman a few rooftops away with you as his target, until his bolt was already fired and struck into your shoulder, was not part of the Doctor’s plan.

“Ghk!” You gulped down the pained yelp as the arrowhead suddenly pierced into your body, and instead a strained grunt of effort covered over it as you lifted the weapon-bearing arm upward in a swift movement; snapping your eyes off of their spot previously super-glued onto Executor’s face, you narrow your gaze and fix it onto the now-fleeing crossbowman. Trusting your own aim as an Elite Operator, you raise your weapon without much ceremony and fire.

A relieved huff leaves your lungs after the crossbowman crumbles to the ground after your weapon-fire hits him in a direct headshot. That relief was momentary, however, as the sharpened ache throughout your entire arm quickly reminded you of the crossbow bolt in your shoulder.

Executor’s attention was rapt on your form once gravity yanked your body downward and sent your knees to collide harshly with the concrete below you; immediately, he was across the rooftop and wrapping a secure arm around your waist to assist you in sitting onto the ground with your back leaning against the ledge of the rooftop.

“You have been hit with an enemy projectile. Do not move.” His voice left him in a stable tone as expected, while his eyes scanned over your body in search of any further harm, then lingering your injury, before they settled onto your face. Your mouth opened to speak, only to shut when his gaze fixed to yours; a hue of scarlet rose onto your cheeks and your eyes averted from his own, despite that they’d been firmly locked onto him just moments earlier. The heaviness of your embarrassment - you’d just been hit by an enemy, because you were too busy oogling your Squadmate - began to near-smother the ache from your injury.

With confidence, you expected the Sankta to flatly point out your blunder in a tone lowered slightly in disappointment, as he advised you to not repeat the same mistake in the future or remarked that he should’ve declined the Doctor’s suggestion to have you function as his partner for this operation. None of those came, however.

In contrast - stark contrast - to the scenarios you’d imagined, Executor’s facial expression became one of slightly furrowed brows with faint downturn of his lips, and then his voice left him in careful words, “I apologize for my lack of attention to our surroundings. I failed to notice and warn you of the threat in time.” A thoughtful pause, and his eyes flicked to your injury before returning to yours, “I will ensure I do not repeat this mistake on subsequent occasions.”

You blinked, and for a moment you wanted to ask him to repeat what he said because you were certain you must’ve heard it wrong. Your injury had been your own mistake, not his; despite, you had rarely ever heard the Sankta’s voice laced with the sincerity it was as his words of apology left him.

Finally, your voice escaped the grip of your previous embarrassment and you managed a reply, “I-It’s alright. It’s my fault, Executor, I wasn’t paying attention. You don’t have to be concerned about it-” His head tilted to the side, then shook it in a near imperceptible movement, “Negative. The safety of my partner for this Operation is a logical cause for my concern.”

Everyone who knew him would firmly agree that he was not a man who ever said things simply out of courtesy. Therefore, the genuinity of this concern - his concern over you - was undoubtable. He felt wholly and truly responsible, for your injury and for ensuring your safety.

“E-Executor-” Your words vanished from you and your thoughts scattered once more as Executor returned his attention to your injury, “The projectile is not an Originium product, there is no risk of Oripathy Infection.” He angled his head to inspect the site of the injury further, then he continued, “Resulted injury is a puncture wound, estimated to be a few inches in depth. Non-lifethreatening.”

The blue of his irises lost a fraction of its sharpness when his eyes left the arrow bolt in your shoulder to find your own eyes once more, “On-field medical treatment is advised. Rest assured that I am qualified to administer.” If they weren't before already, your eyes were widened incredulously now, “You want to…patch me up?” Executor nodded, “If you will allow me, yes.” Your own nod came in a slow reply, “Yes, I'm okay with that…” His gaze focused onto your injury, “Very well.”

With that, his hands placed, one cupped your shoulder and the other held your arm steady. You half-expected a firm grip, one not aware or not caring of the force it was exerting.

Instead, Executor’s hands were careful, only applying necessary pressure; the warmth of his palms seeped through the thin fabric of his gloves and offered some soothe to the ache of your injury. Were these really the forceful hands that tore the heart out of a beast? The unexpected gentleness of his touch caused heat to rise to your cheeks and your heartbeat to quicken within your ribcage.

This certainly couldn't be the same Executor whom even your fellow Elite Operators were uncomfortable working with because of his callousness. After all, this Executor’s concern for you was evident; in the way he had instantly been at your side the moment he noticed you’d been attacked, in the way he apologized for what he believed to be his failure in protecting you, and in the way was now tending to your injury. ‘Callous’ was antonymous with ‘concern’, it was impossible for him to encapsulate both. You had yet to witness a display of his supposed lack-of-a-heart, and all but witnessed his evidence of one - a heart misread by many and miscommunicated to many, a heart abstruse.

Yes, anyone with eyes could state with confidence that Executor was handsome; it seemed, however, that you were the only who was now being settled upon with the realization that, ‘and he’s a gentleman’.

Your heart was rapid within your chest, your cheeks flushed a pink hue, - and your eyes could not remove themselves from Executor. Any attempt you made to avert your attention failed, as whenever you flicked your gaze away, it still inevitably fixed onto his careful hands, or his assured movements, or his focus-sharpened face. He unearthed a tourniquet from the black bag he had slung around his shoulder, briefly explained to you that he would apply it in order to halt blood flow and limit excessive bleeding.

He carefully set the arm of your injured shoulder to rest across your stomach, a more comfortable position and one that supports the vulnerable limb enough for the time being, “Please maintain this position, and refrain from moving or attempting to use your arm until we rejoin our Squad. A Medic Operator is required to properly attend to your injury.”, All you managed is a high-pitched sound, a “mhm” in reply.

You silently said thank you to the fact that applying the tourniquet on your arm required majority of his focus, else you were aware he would’ve noticed you staring yet again.

Your eyes studied each of his facial features, each line of his face. His eyes didn’t display enough emotion to discern, as they never did, however your closeness allowed you to notice how concentration sharpened them as he twisted the tourniquet and how the city lights illuminated the light blue hue of his irises; the ivory strands of his hair fell slightly into his gaze as he tilted his head down to properly view your injury, and your hand twitched to tuck the straying pieces away back into their place; his pale skin on his face was without blemishes, and you silently argued with yourself over if his cheeks would be cool or warm to the touch.

You didn’t have to continue mentally debating with yourself over it for very long, as your arm not effected by your injury suddenly lifted to allow your hand to cradle his cheek. Warm; the surface of his skin is warm, and under the contact of your palm, you notice his cheek becomes warmer.

Executor stiffened completely to the point of being statuesque, from his hands ceasing their task of securing your tourniquet to his lungs failing to expand with air for a moment; the only movement was of his hair falling to obscure his eyes. You initially mistook his flinch for discomfort, and you almost pulled your hand away in worry that he would push it away himself.

Again, however, Executor averted your expectations.

He tilts his head in a slow and small movement towards your touch, then he slowly allowed his gaze to drift to yours. No words produced from his throat until after a small while, when your code name was uttered from his lips and he continued in words of question, “...What do you require? Is your injury causing you excessive pain, or do you feel abnormal symptoms?” You didn’t provide an answer to his queries, unless what you blurted out next could be called a sufficient answer.

“Executor, you're pretty.”

He did not reply to you, initially. The Sankta remained unmoving, not even a twitch of his fingers or a blink of his eyes, for a long moment; when he finally did move, it was in a series of slow blinks. Then, his lungs suddenly pulled in a curt inhale of air and his eyes widened, albeit so little you would've missed had you not been leaned in closer to him.

“I…” He cleared his throat, “I am unsure what you mean.”

His reply was near priceless, as you didn't think such a straightforward statement would require elaboration; the only other thing you couldn't possibly put a fitting price on was the near-imperceptibly stunned expression that had quickly fallen onto his face.

Chiming with a light giggle, you pressed your hand closer to his cheek and reiterated in a tone firm with insistence, “As in, you're attractive. No wonder everyone in that Engineering Dormitory insists on asking you out non-stop.” Your addendum to your original statement did little to relieve Executor of his puzzled state, and did everything to exacerbate it. “Pardon. I am afraid I do not understand your wording.” His voice was loyal to that which was typical of him, as it did not falter and remained cool as usual; it was his facial features, that betrayed him.

The size of his pupils shrunk as his eyes widened a fraction more, his jaw tightened visibly as he attempted to catch his lips from falling agape, and his eyebrows lowered to knit slightly in a confused furrow. All are changes you had never witnessed on his facial features before, and each new one you noticed began to cause your lips to upturn into a delighted grin. Most especially - the pink hue that faintly dusted his cheeks.

“Oh!” Your exclamation was raised in astonishment; you'd never once seen Executor’s pale cheeks saturated with any colour at all, not on any occasion, not to any person, not in reaction to anything. And yet, they were now flushed a rosy tint. The injury on your shoulder was forgotten completely; elation lifted your heart towards the sky and mirth played across on your facial features.

With glimmering eyes and an exultant smile, your voice melted out of you in a coo lifted with tease, “Now you look really pretty, blushing like that.”

Executor’s cheeks deepened in colour, however after that, you received no further reactions. You wondered if his brain abruptly quit functioning when it received your words, unfamiliar words that it failed to process; his gaze didn’t leave your face for even a glance, his facial expression froze in wide eyes and flushed cheeks, and he halted all his movement, somehow even including the natural movements of his blackened halo and wings.

Much to your even further amusement, you were reminded of when the Rhodes Island computer terminals displayed the error with the blue screen that instructed to restart the device.

[thetimetraveler24]

The thing that really upsets me about Shadow and Bone being canceled is we will never find out what happened with David. Because there’s no way you can convince me that he died.

First of all, the shadow monsters don’t eat people. Even when they killed Vasily, there was still two halves of his body left over. There was nothing with David. No body, not even a finger. That’s suspicious.

Second, David is supposed to be the very best Durast of the Grisha. And with Sankta Neyar AND Jesper, the show made a huge deal about Durasts being a lot more powerful and resourceful than you might think. So you expect me to believe that David wouldn’t be able to do that when Jesper (who doesn’t even try or want to keep up with training his abilities) can do a fantastic job on his first try?

I don’t know what the plan was, but I firmly believe that David was going to turn out to be alive and it would have something to do with the conflict in season 3. Possibly something to do with Alina’s trade off with merzost. Obviously the shadow cut was part of that trade off, so I don’t think a life for a life would be how that works since that’s an equal price plus more with the shadow powers. Something happened to David, he’s still alive, but in what state and where he might be, I have no idea.

Reread this and I think it’s totally possible that David could have ended up getting caught up in the jurda parem experiment stuff. I had guessed that was how they would tie in the Crows because that would give way to the Ice Court Heist and everything. That actually seems plausible. I kind of really do think that would have been the plan. I just with we’d gotten to see it.

[wolfgirlfloof]

Something I appreciate about Hortus de Escapismo is how it portrays the Laterans and non-Laterans, especially in contrast to each other. Guide Ahead already gave us the angel ethnostate vs multi-racial heretics, which made for a pretty effective if blatant commentary on Laterano. And while it might seem Hortus is kind of repeating the same formula, I think it's got something subtler going on with interesting implications.

On one side we have the abbey's inhabitants: sankta, sarkaz and all other races--hell, even a seaborn for a moment. Are there cracks here and there? Of course, that's a whole plot point. But it can't be denied there is genuine camaraderie and self-sacrifice going on between these people who are simply trying to survive together (which is what makes those cracks all the more volatile).

Contrast this with the Laterans, who are dysfunctional as hell. Lemuen, Oren, Richele, and Spuria; I can't say I fully parsed everything happening between them on a moment-to-moment basis, but it was overall apparent that none of these people trust each other. Even though they're friends and classmates and colleagues, even though they're working for the good of the same state, even though they're sankta who can literally read each other's minds. There's just this constant mess of cahoots and conspiracy and treachery and bitter friction, and it takes the threat of an Innsmouth-Jonestown crossover event to get them to finally work together.

I thought it was a nice way to show more of Laterano's flaws. It's one of their core themes that they aren't as great as they say they are, but you'd think they would, at the least, have blessed harmony thanks to their literal hivemind. But evidently that isn't true either. And again, these are agents at the highest levels of the government. If they're this dysfunctional, what does that say for Laterano as a whole?

Which leads me into thinking about what the future of Laterano might have in store. I've seen some folks point out how these events have these greatly compelling premises that don't actually resolve any of the issues they bring up. Laterano only remains Laterano. And this is true! But I think it's intentional, setting up a slow burn of a regional conflict. The Lateran state is holding together, the status quo remains unchanged, the Law is content. But for how much longer? Guiding Ahead introduced us to the divide in Laterano on a broad level, the state vs heretics. Hortus de Escapismo shows the cracks within the state, narrowing in on individuals who nominally should be on the same side but aren't. The next logical narrative step would be seeing the state finally cracking apart from whatever looming danger the Law sainted Federico to deal with.

Some sort of schism, perhaps; that seems like the sort of existential threat that would directly threaten the Law's directive of preserving the Sankta. Law's awareness of it would also imply it's an internal threat, something festering in the hearts and minds of Sankta and thus one It's able to sense (at least that's what makes sense to me. We don't actually know how the Law works, so it could very well just have random magic prophetic abilities). And especially with the constant background pressure of trying to legitimize their Summit of Nations, what better way to drive that issue to the forefront by throwing Laterano into utter political chaos?