#deeply devoted

[rosenfieldsdev]

this is my new game development blog! i'll be posting things related to game development that i do

main @rosenfieids

"Devotion, For Better Or For Worse" (DFBOFW) - a game about a grumpy gal named lilith who goes to the nether, desperate to learn anything about her birth parents and having exhausted any other options. in the nether, a woman called dream can grant any wish, as long as the hopeful individual can make it through the dangers before her. going through, lilith hears tales about disappearances in recent years, all with rumored ties to the mysterious assassin, known only as "the harbinger." rpg maker horror, mystery.

"Obligation, Morality, Existentialism" (OME) - a shy young woman named icada is the only one who can undo corruption caused by a parasitic species known as chasses. rpg maker horror, visual novel.

"Fran + Camille's No-Nonsense Bounty Hunt" (FCNNBH) - wip

"Deeply Devoted" (DD) - after dfbofw, serafina, her girlfriend lilith, and her friend verin, move to the recovering planet agnate, hoping for a more quiet life. rpg maker farming sim.

devo trailer

[rainbow-sunshine-unicorn]

Remember when Anthony Bridgerton said:

And then it turns out that this is him with his wife:

[sentientsky]

why do they do this. every time !!!!

[mothcpu]

happy valentine's day!

[khickuwa]

Happy Birthday, Luke Pearce.

Redolent Nonage, To My Dearest. To more stories, To more adventures. May the stars always shine above you. Let's create many more memories. ✮⋆˙

[mamawasatesttube]

Do you think Tim ever had one of those moments where once he realised he was bi, he reflected on how he felt about Kon, and realised it was a crush? In retrospect?

HMMM. ive been sitting on this and pondering. and ... kinda?

but the thing to me about tim, his feelings for kon, and his bisexual realizations, is that they are all tied up in one big tangled knot. he's been in love with kon for years without realizing it; he had a crush on kon in his yj days (guy who is constantly going "what is kon's opinion of me. i need kon to respect me and likeys me and think i'm a good leader. for normal reasons" ok tim), but even after he eventually figures out he's bi, he doesn't realize that that's what he felt for kon, because that crush has developed over the years into full-blown adoration, and he... uh... didn't notice.

like, by the time kon dies and tim goes off the deep end and tries to clone him 99 times, tim is head over heels. it's just that tim has not noticed that he's in love with kon at all. to him, it's just - this is normal, right? he has a huge depth of feelings for his best friend, and that's how he's always felt about kon. when he thought he was going to die on apokolips, he just wished he could have reconciled with kon. that's normal for him. that's baseline. right? this is a normal way for a guy to feel about his best friend. and yeah, tim is bisexual, but after ives he just kind of doesn't really seriously date any other guys, because, like... he could, and maybe he goes on a single date here or there, but there's always this little thought in the back of his head that, like, none of the other guys he meets are as hot and funny and smart and kind as kon. man, guess having a best friend who's a 12/10 really just sets his standards high, huh?

like i just think tim's feelings for kon are such a huge part of his life for so long that the actual nature of them and the depth of them kinda just creeps up on him. it happens so gradually and is such a deep and abiding love by the time they're adults that he doesn't notice for a long time. because he's always adored kon, and by the time kon died and came back, tim already knew he loved him so so so much that living in a world without him felt unbearable. the fact that that love turned romantic somewhere along the line? he has no idea!!! he doesn't even know he's bisexual when that happens, so he's just so used to that being "how he feels about kon, his boy best friend" that he takes forever to realize he is, in fact, in love with him.

but yeah eventually he does put together that, ah, he has been into kon for an embarrassingly long time. without noticing. oop! he's going to go sit on a rooftop and brood and wonder if anyone else noticed before he did (most people who know him did).

[leal-hound]

in another life i found you sooner

[moonofmercury]

Moze is initially apprehensive about your and Jiaoqiu's relationship. Not because you're not good for him. You are. You make him smile, you make him laugh, you bring him fresh groceries when he has a hard time leaving the house, you make sure he doesn't just rot in bed all day (although you happily join him for this too). But as Moze comes to acknowledge his past, as he understands more about what it means to have people to care about and who truly care about you, he realizes how hard it is to live without people who mean so much. And if something happens to one of you, will the other survive?

It leaves Moze feeling confused. Is this jealousy? That losing one of you might mean losing you both, without care for what happens to the rest of them.

On some level, you all live dangerous lives, even if Jiaoqiu doesn't work for anyone but Feixiao anymore and diviners are fairly well guarded when they are near the battlefield. Moze knows it won't happen yet, that you are not yet so tied together, but he worries for Jiaoqiu and his fragile heart.

Moze remains his reticent self when Jiaoqiu talks about you, or when you talk about Jiaoqiu. You are undeniably good for him, and Moze can, with fond begrudging, admit Jiaoqiu is good for you too. And slowly, Moze's apprehension transforms into a more worn, tired worry touched with curiosity.

For so many years, stronger feelings have felt burned out of him. With no one to respond to his cries, they had died before they could lay half-formed in his chest. And although it is a gentle thing, the love between you and Jiaoqiu is strong enough to make Moze unsure. All he can do is keep you alive when he can. For Jiaoqiu's sake. He's not willing to let a thing like love keep you all from sharing the life you have been given.

[serpentface]

Faiza performing the Kagnoma Odo (pretty literally 'lion dance'), a weapons dance and one of the more important ritual duties of Odonii priestesses. A relatively new addition to this traditional dance involves the musket as the primary weapon, which is fired mid-twirl into the ground at the climax of the dance. Faiza is experiencing an 'oh fuck' moment because her shot is more than ideally diagonal, but she’s being so cool with it.

This is a wholly ceremonial performance at the onset of the pilgrimage, performed in full regalia and lion skin (of the small, semi-domesticated strain) but no armor. It’s also distinctly a display of political allegiance between the powerful and beloved Odonii priesthood (and its loyal military) with the increasingly reviled and destabilized imperial family, with Faiza prominently wearing a bracelet of the royal serpent, which was gifted (along with the musket) by the usoma Stavis Amanti himself (Usoma is the Wardi word for king, which has been retained in the context of emperors).

The Kagnoma Odo is the ultimate demonstration of the Odonii as an embodiment of the Lion Face of God and living vessel of military might and sovereignty, demonstrating her fitness and proficiency with weapons and as a spiritual unifier for soldiers. It is accompanied by drumming and occurs in stages, running through the three keymost weapons used in war- the spear, the sword, and the musket. The musket is of the most significance, given the weapon has developed a particular esteem as the ultimate embodiment of might and superiority. Assistants (almost always other priestesses, occasionally high ranking soldiers) load and prime the musket to be fired at the climax of the dance, where it is shot into the ground as the priestess leaps out of range of the shot. The firing signals the end of the dance and the rite itself.

While not the utmost exemplar of trigger discipline, only fully inducted and senior (and therefore very thoroughly trained) Odonii are permitted to perform the dance, and injuries during actual performances are quite rare (though are known to occur during training, more than a few Odonii have burns and wounds on their feet).

The most important renditions of this dance are performed upon declarations of war and before battles (in this case, generally done in full armor along with the lion pelt). It is also done during some trainings (while a dance, it is carefully choreographed to include naturalistic maneuvers of the weapons involved and helps soldiers limber up and learn to move their weapons). It is regarded as an impressive and motivating sight and a morale booster, and, seen at a distance, potentially intimidating to enemies.

A special variant of this dance is performed as means of fully incarnating the Odomache, which is done in full nudity with the body covered in the blood of the freshly sacrificed lion and cloaked in its raw pelt (the lion has become the corpse of Odomache in the moment of death, as part of its recreation of God's sacrifice). Her public, full nude appearance once (and only once) in this act is what allows the Lion Face of God to incarnate within her. Those in attendance see the spiritually vulnerable, naked human body obscured with the sanctified and deified blood and cloaked in the sanctified and deified skin. It is a merger of the contradictions of mortality and divinity, the boundaries between the two indistinct in flickering firelight and the flash of musketfire. She is witnessed by her people, dangling in between humanity and divinity and leading them in dance, and and is thus transformed.

[lemonyinks]

Because they are on my mind, please accept one of my favorite Wangxian moments of all time.

Chapter 87

In my opinion, this is one of the most important Wangxian scenes in the whole novel. It is very special to me. It made me tear up when I was doing my read through.

Time and time again, Wei Wuxian has fallen, he's gotten hurt, people have failed him. The people who were supposed to be there for him have either left, he's lost them tragically, or they've betrayed him at some point in his life. His life has been one of loneliness and loss.

He has never had someone who he could rely on so heavily. He has never had a solid safety net before, someone on equal footing to him that he could fall back on and rely on. If anything he has spent his entire life being a safety net for other people. He has spent his whole life being strong for others.

Now, however, Lan Wangji is that safety net for him.

For the first time in his life, he has someone to truly catch him when he falls. He can let himself fall and still be safe. That "thank you" isn't just about Lan Wangji catching him after he fell from the tree, its about everything.

[cynicalmusings]

no thoughts… just xiao quietly murmuring ‘i will keep you safe’ into your hair when you’re drifting off next to him on the balcony of wangshu inn…

[timetravellingshinigami]

Fave women of all time. 10/10 best characterization. I look for these kinds of female characters everywhere.

[whispers-of-gallifrey]

It's thinking about Maxwell and Jacobi hours

[vaguely-concerned]

bunter keeping peter from being swallowed up by an evil bog with the kind of hysterical strength otherwise only known by mothers deadlifting cars to save their tender babes is something that can actually be so personal

[saturnniidae]

Less Astrid comforting Hiccup...more Hiccup comforting Astrid (and not bc he had to save her from almost dying or whatever. again)

[lovesickeros]

☆ you sow; & thus you shall reap what you are owed

{☆} characters tsaritsa {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, violence {☆} word count 0.8k

You are dying.

Gold melts into the dirt, bleeds into the very earth that you'd molded by your own hands – a familiarity you do not understand the source of – you know it to be true, yet you do not remember it as Teyvat does. It weeps, in turn, for the way you bleed upon it, the way your lungs strain for breath.

It is fury and sorrow and fear and hatred so raw that your mind buckles.

You will die.

"A dying godling and its judge, it's jury – it's executioners," The voice is hollow and cold, sweeps across your broken body like the first chill of winter, "Archons who saw themselves Gods, now brought to heel by their own hubris."

A cold hand upon your cheek, the brush of a thumb across your lip, the gentle caress of cold across your skin. You know her – you don't remember, you shouldn't recognize her but you do – and she knows you. The cold beckons and you follow, let her kindness settle in the hollow space of your chest. You want to speak, to cry and scream and rage, let the world burn around you in a fit of flames so hot even she cannot contain it – but she silences you, quiets the anger seeping into your blood, quiets Teyvat itself.

"Do not speak, little godling. Guide my hand," She is cold; her hands are not gentle, yet it is bliss compared to the callous, cruel hands that have shattered you. She is cruel and cold and brutal but she is love in the way she kisses the crown of your head. She is love in the way she is the bulwark between you and the world that has scorned you – she is fury in the way she brings them to their knees. "And I shall enact judgement most divine."

They will pray for forgiveness, and they shall find themselves wanting.

"It wasn't our fault!" They cry, but you cannot recognize the voice – it breaks and cracks like glass. "They were too human. How were we meant to know? We– we thought they were.."

Silence.

You watch your judge – the executioner, the blade that shall carve their sins into the very marrow of Teyvat, stand above you like death. As cold as winter and just as brutal. Your temple has been painted in the gold of your divine blood, and she shall complete the masterpiece with their own. The Archons shall become the grandest art in the world – this temple the canvas, their blood the paint and their bodies the palette. The cold that cuts sinew cradles you – it sings to you, whispers sweetly in your ear and carves bone from body in the same breath. The cold presses it's lips to your wrist and it cradles a heart within it's palm – judges them and finds them guilty.

It is her spear that rests between their ribs, her sword that dissects and her dagger that carves – the cold devours.

In the breadth of this divine sanctuary, the Archons dwindle. They become the pieces of a divine work of art, they bleed and bend and break upon her hands. She shakes the heavens and carves mortality into the bones of the divine – your word is Law, and you weave their deaths into the roots of Teyvat itself.

They shall know of their grand folly in every moment henceforth and longer still and they shall weep.

And as the curtain falls, as the world crumbles beneath fist and blade, she cradles your face between hands too cold – as gentle as a shard of ice between your ribs, as brutal as the kiss of gentle snowfall. The world buckles at the loss of six, but she alone does not allow it to break – you will have to mend the wounds of the world when you are well, but today you weep and Teyvat weeps with you.

And alone, the cold remains.

Stone has eroded, the wind has ceased, the flames have been extinguished, the storm has been silenced, the forests have gone quiet and the seas go still.

But the cold remains, bathed in gold.

It wraps you in thick furs, cradles you against the winter storm that brews beneath a veneer of composure. It brings you home – lets the world settle into a stillness and silence that inspires only dread and still she presses a kiss to your brow.

It is cold, but there has never been something so warm.

Where hands have broken you, she drapes you in furs, wipes away the thick gold that clings to your skin. She pieces you back together where you have been shattered, reshapes you where you have been bent – makes of you something new. Not a god and not a mortal but something wedged between them.

But you are yourself.

And you are where you belong.

They shall put you back together and you shall know only the worship worthy of the divine. They shall carve this world into your image, tear out and burn away the rot that festers.

All you need to do is say the word and they shall be your tools to make this world your own.

One word and those who wronged you shall burn, too.

Just one word. That's all it takes, and they shall take away your pain.