#vue course

[crustaceousfaggot]

Hey did anyone else notice like a weird amount of parallels between the Arcane ending and the RQG ending or was that just me

Takes place in a magi-tech society that blends elements of sci-fi and high fantasy with elements of British industrial revolution aesthetics. The bulk of the story takes place in a city which is divided in two - a wealthy and entrepreneurial upper city, and a poor and dangerous undercity ruled by organized crime.

One of our protagonists is an emotionally volatile young woman, raised in the lower city by a powerful crime lord who acts as her surrogate father. She believes that her only worth to the world is her talent for violence, and over the course of the story learns to trust again and care for (an) adopted kid(s). This character has a natural talent for engineering and makes her own bombs.

Another of our protagonists is a nepo-baby from a powerful family who eventually learns that they're a sorcerer with a hidden magical bloodline. This bloodline manifests, among other ways, with their skin becoming more metallic. As this is happening, the character decides to step away from their family legacy and inherited power to become their own person.

The catalyst for the plot is a brilliant scientist pioneering a new kind of magi-tech which he believes will revolutionize humanity and make life better for everyone.

Through a bizarre series of unintended dominoes, this magi-tech (which just so happens to be blue) entirely loses control, leading to the creation of a spreading gestalt hivemind which threatens to overtake the entire world.

Quick break from this to watch a couple of our characters get thrown into another dimension. They'll be fine don't worry (lying)

The final battle involves a very large cast of characters doing cool shit but essentially revolves around "we need to kill the center of the hive mind". Part of this involves taking down a Big Powerful Beast that got infected.

Despite this, the conflict isn't resolved just through combat, but through a scene where a character gets sucked into the Hive Mind Dimension and has a conversation with the entity controlling it. The entity genuinely believes that what it is doing is for the betterment of humanity, and has to be convinced that human weaknesses and differences are something to be embraced rather than eliminated.

Also idk the parallels between the "we'll finish this together" moment and the "we've got this" moment.

From a thematic perspective, a lot of the really interesting stuff set up early on about societal inequality, corrupt but well-meant leadership, and growing tensions between the upper and lower cities gets kiiinda overshadowed in the end by the whole "we all need to band together to deal with this goddamn hivemind" thing, and (in my opinion) doesn't get an especially satisfying conclusion in either case.

Smaller stuff

Amputees with magi-tech prosthetics

Magic Twink that dies and gets revived multiple times (at least once by his partner) and ends up with cool white hair.

"What If We Had A Gay Love Confession In Your Post-Death Mind Palace"

Kooky old mad scientist side character who actually ends up being pretty plot relevant and having some surprisingly solid emotional beats.

Moral debate over whether or not it's worth it to shut down the Very Sketchy Dangerous Machine that also supports a huge chunk of this world's economy and infrastructure.

Various orbs

Evil (?) magic flower

Post-canon lesbian domestic bliss!!!

"It's fun when a Lawful Good character edges over the line into full-blown fascism"

Zolf is Vi but I can't explain that one. It just is

Rqg still wins because Arcane doesn't have Mr Ceiling or Bertie MacGuffingham. And frankly I'm disappointed by the lack of blokes

[hcdahlem]

La couleur noire n’existe pas

Dans ce premier roman, Greta Olivo brosse le portrait d'une adolescente pleine de promesses, victime d'une maladie dégénérative de l'œil. Son parcours initiatique va dès lors prendre un chemin bien singulier, celui des ténèbres qu'elle va devoir affronter

    Prix du premier roman étranger 2024 En deux mots À 11 ans, Livia développe de belles qualités intellectuelles et sportives et son petit souci à l’œil ne doit pas l’empêcher de progresser. Mais c’est la maladie dégénérative qui va gagner la course et voir la jeune fille douter de son avenir, au moment même où son corps se transforme. Ma note ★★★ (bien aimé) Ma chronique La jeune fille et les…

[chic-a-gigot]

Les Modes : revue mensuelle illustrée des arts décoratifs appliqués à la femme, no. 69, vol. 6, septembre 1906, Paris. A Deauville. Toilettes vues aux courses. Photo Agié. Bibliothèque nationale de France

[afeelgoodblog]

Best News of Last Week - July 3, 2023

🐕 - This dog is 'disc'-overing hidden treasures! Get ready for the 'paws'-itively successful fundraiser, Daisy's Discs!

1. Most unionized US rail workers now have new sick leave

More than 60% of U.S. unionized railroad workers at major railroads are now covered by new sick leave agreements, a trade group said Monday.

Last year railroads came under fire for not agreeing to paid sick leave during labor negotiations.

2. Missing teen found after being lost in the wilderness for 50 hours

Esther Wang, 16, had been hiking with three other people through the Maple Ridge park on Tuesday.

The group made it to Steve’s lookout around 2:45 p.m. that day.However, when they headed back down to the campsite, after about 15 minutes of hiking, the group leader realized Wang was missing. They returned to the lookout to look for Wang but couldn’t find her. The leader headed to the trail entrance to notify a park ranger and police.

“Esther Wang has been located. She’s healthy, she is happy and she’s with family.”

3. A dog has retrieved 155 discs from woods. They’ll be on sale soon, with proceeds going to the park in West Virginia where they were found

Meet Daisy, the yellow Labrador retriever with a unique talent for finding lost Frisbee golf discs at Grand Vue Park in West Virginia. Four years ago, while on a walk with her owner Kelly Mason, Daisy discovered a disc in the woods and proudly brought it back. Since then, Daisy's obsession with finding stray discs has grown, and she has collected an impressive cache of 155 discs.

Mason and park officials have now come up with a plan to return the discs to their owners if they are labeled, and any unclaimed discs will be sold as a fundraiser to support the park's disc golf courses. Daisy's Discs is expected to be a success, with many excited about the possibility of recovering their lost discs thanks to Daisy's remarkable skills.

4. Australian earless dragon last seen in 1969 rediscovered in secret location

A tiny earless dragon feared to be extinct in the wild has been sighted for the first time in more than 50 years – at a location that is being kept secret to help preservation efforts.

The Victorian grassland earless dragon, Tympanocryptis pinguicolla, has now been rediscovered in the state, according to a joint statement issued by the Victorian and federal Labor governments on Sunday.

5. Detroit is going to power 100% of its municipal buildings with solar

All of Detroit’s municipal buildings are going to be powered by neighborhood solar as part of the city’s efforts to combat climate change – check out the city’s cool grassroots plan. Meet Detroit Rock Solar City.

The city has determined that it’s going to need around 250 acres of solar panels in order to achieve 100% solar power for its municipal buildings.

6. Canada Officially Bans Cosmetic Testing on Animals

The fight for cruelty-free beauty in Canada has seen a significant breakthrough as the Canadian government legislates a full ban on cosmetic animal testing and trade, marking a victory for Animal rights advocates and eco-conscious consumers.

This landmark decision is part of the Budget Implementation Act (Bill C-47), not only prohibiting cosmetic animal testing but also putting an end to the sale of cosmetics that use new animal testing data for safety substantiation.

7. Belize certified malaria-free by WHO

The World Health Organization (WHO) has certified Belize as malaria-free, following the country’s over 70 years of continued efforts to stamp out the disease.

“WHO congratulates the people and government of Belize and their network of global and local partners for this achievement”, said Dr Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus, WHO Director-General. “Belize is another example of how, with the right tools and the right approach, we can dream of a malaria-free future.”

----

That's it for this week :)

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[darlingdreames]

*knock knock* *peeks around door* Hi, all! I’m showing up 14 years late with a Starbucks, but I am here!

I haven’t been on Tumblr in a minute (like a long time) but I do consider myself an OG because this place used to be my home. Literally the only site I’d visit for hours at a time. I’ve cycled through many fandoms (with no side blogs) and now I’m back with an OBSESSION with INCEPTION. Particularly the dream husbands Eames and Arthur.

I don’t know how this fandom or this ship has escaped me for so long, but I am balls deep in it now. I’ve been reading Inception fanfic for about a year now, and I would love if anyone has any recs! Also, if you have recs of blogs I should follow that will inundate me with Eames and Arthur gossip/lore/gushing/nonsense I’d be forever grateful!

Stuff (fic) that is my jam:

The Psycho Heroes series (A/E) by FiaMac - For realzies, I’ve read this series probably 15 times already in the short time I’ve been in the fandom. It is my absolute FAVE.

The Day series (A/E) by RurouniHime - I’ve also read this series many times, particularly UnDays. Ugh, so so so good.

The Trembling of the Migratory Birds (A/A/E) by eretria - I’m not opposed to some threesome action as long as Arthur and Eames are somewhere in the mix and oh ho ho this fic is a doozy.

Meant To Lead A Man Astray (A/E) by kyrene - This was so fun to read and hot af so I do go back to read it occasionally just to get my mind off of a bad day.

I Seem To Be A Verb (A/E) by Aja - A Notting Hill AU. Like omfg as if I need to say more. Fucking magical is this fic.

Presque Vue (A/E) by rageprufrock - No words. Just ugh *chef’s kiss*

Aaaaaaanywho, those are just some of the MANY fics I have bookmarked on AO3. If anyone thinks there is Arthur/Eames fic I should read or even Arthur/Eames/Other or even Eames/Other (particularly another Inception character) please, gimme ALL the fic recs.

The tags I most search for in Inception fics on AO3 are: #hurt Eames, #possessive Arthur, #protective Arthur, and of course #Arthur/Eames.

I hope there are still some of you out there that want to gush about these stupid dream husbands in love! ❤️

[ferrocyan]

refracted

gen - 1614w

(read on AO3)

True to True Vue, crowds of people pass by in great numbers by his street-corner seat. Retsarra pays mind to none of them. Under the brim of his cap, he sees nobody else. Hell, his eyes are barely open. It isn't until a voice greets him that his attention is drawn.

"Oh, is that? Hey, Howl–err, not anymore, huh?"

He lifts his head and sees a masked milalla. Even before she takes it off, he returns the greeting. "Sugar—ah, right. It's good to see you."

In her signature black-and-pink, she's still a recognizable figure. She waves lightly as she approaches. "Sugar Riot's fine, I still sign my art under that name, too. I was just scoping out this part of town for new canvases, actually. What are you up to?" she asks, jumping on the bench to sit beside him.

Retsarra does his best to match her cheer. "Nothing much," he laughs lightly. "Just now I dropped by the Hunters' Association to inquire after an opening. I thought I could get back to my old career before the arena, but," the words catch in his throat. He suppresses a groan, grimacing tightly—another wave of headache hits him. Just as it had in the headquarters.

It came without warning, and far more intense than usual. One moment Retsarra had been reminding his superior of his impeccable conduct the last three years, that he really had changed since leaving the Association—the next he was bent over clutching his head, unable to speak even a word of "Please have me reinstated."

"I commend the balls to walk in here after what you did," his old captain told him, sympathy in his voice, "but if you aren't fit to stand up straight in my office, you aren't fit to go out in the field. Go home and enjoy your retirement."

Retsarra grits his teeth. It feels as if his brain is being ripped out of his skull without an exit. By some means a small part of his mind holds on, the very last knuckles gripping onto the cliff as the rest of his body hangs in empty air. He can't let go. He absolutely can't let go of it. He remembers falling, and the thought drives his heart hammering wildly in his chest.

The ache passes quickly this time, and he returns with the awareness that he's left another conversation unfinished. Without a memory of what he wanted to say, he sighs. "I suppose it's no wonder they turned me down immediately," he says bitterly.

Sugar gives him a sympathetic look, then puts her head back down. Retsarra realizes she's been up to something and leans closer to see. "What are you doing there?"

"Art, obviously!" Sugar Riot draws as is her wont, this time with markers instead of her customary spray paint. He can't quite make out what her subject is, but knowing her most infamous works it's likely some manner of cartoonish animal. Sugar's tongue sticks out as she scribbles color into her lines.

Retsarra observes her fondly. "Right, I should report this vandalism to a sentry." He says it without enough levity to sell the joke, but Sugar grins at him anyway.

"You would do that, huh, mister goody-two-shoes!" She pokes at the back of his hand, and Retsarra moves it out of the way of her drawing space. Sugar asks while scribbling further, "Is that why you just let them?"

"Let them what?"

"Turn you down. You were a champion and all," she gestures up and down at him, "why not throw your weight around a little? If anyone tells me no, Sugar Riot, you can't paint in our studio because you're retired, I'd spray paint right on their face. Take that!" She points a yellow marker at Retsarra, a threat to which he complies, backing off with a chuckle.

He sets down with his elbows on his knees, rubs at his eyes. "But I get it. The Hunters’ Association are conscientious people. The brass are always careful with the risks their men take on—too careful, sometimes," he says, voice tight. Retsarra knows that fact well. "Of course I'm aware that as I am at this moment, without a regulator but with a soul that'll deteriorate any minute now, I'm nothing more than a liability." The corners of his lips pull up into a grin, his voice raising into a laugh, "Hah, what good is retiring if I'll end up dead, broke and alone anyway?!"

The world snaps back into focus. Retsarra hears the words pouring out of his mouth, as if unaware he'd been saying them himself. He slaps his own face with both hands, hiding for a moment behind his palms. Don't forget yourself. He lets go, silently cursing at his own stupidity, then offers a weak smile at Sugar Riot. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I would..."

She seems slightly surprised, but either gets over it or hides it in a flash. She waves off his concern. "It's fine. Good, kinda? Shows you do have a personality," Sugar tells him, grinning.

Retsarra wants to laugh along, but her words strike him oddly. He questions, "Do I? When the captain refused me, I... actually, I had no idea what to do." After being rejected he just stood there without saying another word. He knows enough manners to have given a parting line, he hopes—but he can't be sure. All he recalls is that his mind went utterly blank.

Retsarra could usually orient himself around his identity: the Howling Blade, the babyface champion of the Arcadion. Before, he knew what he had been too, as a hunter of Everkeep. He muses aloud, drawing a blank on the conclusion, "But what am I, now?"

Sugar Riot taps a marker against her chin. "Ooh... troublesome question there, if you aren't sure, 'cause I'm drawing you as a wolf. Is that okay?"

Retsarra blinks. "Me?" he leans over again to look at Sugar's art. She lets him see fully, a cartoon wolf with spiky mane of blue and yellow fur. Its red eyes stand out fiercely from their colorful surroundings. His mouth falls agape. "Oh! It's cute."

Sugar goes back for a last touch, "And then I add these... yep, grumpy wolf," she says, scribbling thick knit eyebrows above the eyes.

Retsarra frowns. "Do I look that way?"

"No. But you did just now," Sugar answers after considering.

Retsarra sighs. "That's a bit embarrassing. I suppose I'll be reminded of my rejection every time I see this," he traces his fingers over the wolf's outline. Sugar pouts slightly at that, so Retsarra quickly adds, "I'm sorry, losing my place is harder to accept than I thought it would be."

Sugar heaves a sigh, giving him an admonishing look. She points at Retsarra, "That right there's your problem. Do you see a canvas here?" she waves her arms around the two of them, "I do, doesn't matter what anyone tells me. There's no place I’m meant to be, I simply draw wherever I want."

She jumps down from her seat, faces Retsarra and grins, "Though, at least you're not looking to tattle on my art anymore. Baby steps!" she laughs with her hands on her hips.

That's just like her, isn't it, Retsarra thinks to himself. Nothing can take away Sugar Riot's independent spirit. The soulshift fighter under that name isn't the totality of her, rather just an expression of the person behind it. It's no wonder she's already moved on to bigger canvases out here—in the city, and maybe even beyond. The outside world depicted her murals has made its way in, after all—

Pain strikes at the back of his eyes as he thinks. Retsarra wrenches them shut and curls his back in on himself. Wait, not here, someone's watching, he remembers, lifts his head and looks. Sugar Riot is peering up at his face, uncovered by his cap. Her forehead is creased with worry. "Hey, wolfy? You look worse now. Should I call someone?" she asks.

He tries to reply, but only draws a blank. Who is there to call? Not Hector—he winces at the thought—and certainly not Eutrope, either. So, "...I wonder who," his voice wheezes, can't even speak aloud.

Sugar looks around. She exclaims excitedly when she spots someone in the distance, "Oh, over there! Heeey, Tartsy!"

She waves at them, and the person waves back as they run to greet her. Retsarra gets no time to guess before they speak.

"Hi, Tatchan," C'orhtus replies cheerfully. Outside the arena, the new champion dresses much more modestly, and without a mask over his eyes. He glances behind Sugar. "Oh, it's Retsa—hey, you okay?"

Retsarra sits up straighter in response. Why is he here? he wonders, rueful. "Fine, just taking a rest."

"Uh huh, need it for sure," C’orhtus crouches down to meet his gaze. "You're sweating buckets there."

"You look like a melting pudding," Sugar adds.

"That's so nice of you to say," Retsarra sighs. "I'll be alright in a moment. You can leave me alone."

Neither of his opponents move. They share a glance between each other, and Sugar stays back while C'orhtus puts his hands on Retsarra's arms. As if to keep him from falling over. "Let's go to Tritails. I'll carry you, any objections?" he asks.

There are, Retsarra is sure. He just isn't certain he manages to convey them. His body feels numb and distant now—the ache is dulled, along with everything else. Shame, anger, or despair at his loss from earlier. He can't find it in himself to care anymore. His hands finally let go.

[whitherwanderer]

Galena, a Rusty Reforger & Pyrite, a Deliberate Deadeye feat. @shroudandsands

In one of worlds fourteenfold, a hyune reforger scales the crags of Alexandria's cliffs and ruins in search of precious electrope, artifacts, and other reusable materials. A scope is trained on him, a voice in his ear, coolly reminding him to watch his footing (as if it needed to be said).

The spotter is an ex-hunter who keeps the levin-cursed monsters and defective sentries off his back with a careful eye and a dead aim. She's also his wife, which makes it that much harder for her to watch him test his scavenging prowess over the deep canyons and crumbling spires that scar the land. Trust him as she does, she has her reasons to be wary.

Galena's methods are unusual. Instead of combing the ground, he climbs. The old kingdom's ruins hide valuable artifacts and electrope caches that would be out of reach for most, but more worrying is his choice not to wear a regulator despite the many obvious dangers. Among the reforgers, it's not wholly unusual for someone to refuse a regulator, but those who know the two hyune know well: it's not a choice made lightly.

———

Deep in the heart of Everkeep, Pyrite stalks the alleys of Solution Nine with a portion of the materials her husband gleaned from the old kingdom. It's how he can offer his support for the organization Pyrite now dedicates her time and talents to.

And an ex-hunter always finds ways to keep herself sharp; sentries vanish, dismantled and sold for parts in True Vue's less reputable markets. Weapons from the manufactories on the lower floors go missing and wind up in rebel hands. Credits grease the palms of the right people for the right intelligence and the doors of high clearance warehouses are left unlocked—by accident, of course.

As an agent for the rebel group Oblivion, the regulator Pyrite wears is a compromise allowing her to take advantage of Everkeep's systems while avoiding suspicion. But for all its conveniences, the regulator is also a grave reminder. Should Galena's hands ever slip, all she'll have of him is the recordings and images hidden away on encrypted data shards—assurance that they'd keep their promise never to forget again*.

———

No mourning, and yet no relief from the aching holes in their memories. All they have is the hints of a loss whose shape they can identify by feeling around its dark edges: an empty room, a closet full of clothes too small for either of them. A name that Pyrite herself chose, always lingering in the back of her mind but slipping through it like a sieve. An image of shade—a face that Galena chases through dreams and wakes up with no recollection of.

Loss enough to take immortality and toss it into a canyon. Pain enough to use that immortality as a weapon against the system that stole from them something so precious it becomes their reason and their resolve. Something that would be worth dismantling a miracle. *OOC Note: This was drafted before the Arcadion raids came out, which answers a critical question I had about the regulator mechanics. A person wearing a regulator will, in fact, remember someone who does not wear one after their death. So that final bit in Pyrite's section is wrong! Oh well.

[jefaiscequejepeux]

The 6th Day (Roger Spottiswoode, 2000)

J'ai regardé ce film car @clhook a dit qu'elle aimerait ma critique de ce film, et ce que mon clairon veut, mon clairon a.

Le film se passe dans le turfu, le clonage a été inventé mais interdit pour les humains par la loi. Par contre il est autorisé pour les animaux. Adam Gibson est joué par Schwarzeneger et il joue vraiment hyper mal. Genre première scène, je me dis euh c'est un clone, un robot ? Pourquoi il agit comme ça qu'est-ce qu'il cache il est trop bizarre. Bah en fait il joue juste mal de manière très robotique et fake on dirait quelqu'un qui essaye d'imiter un humain, donc il était vraiment parfait pour Terminator mais là je trouve ça allait pas du tout, genre il passe tout le début du film avec un air un peu niais mais qui fait fake un peu comme ça :

Bref du coup on le voit dans sa petite vie parfaite avec sa femme et sa fille et c'est le jour de son anniversaire. Avant de rentrer chez lui il va acheter une poupée que sa fille veut absolument et laissez moi vous dire que c'est la poupée la plus flippante du monde, là c'est lui qui prend un appel visio avec la poupée à côté on dirait un ptn de film d'horreur :

Bref ensuite le type arrive chez lui ravi de fêter son anniversaire avec sa famille mais il entend que ça chante déjà "happy birthday" et il est "wft je suis pas là ??" Il regarde par la fenêtre depuis l'extérieur et voit qu'un clone souffle ses bougies à sa place !!! À partir de ce moment il va se faire poursuivre par des méchants (ceux qui ont créé son clone par erreur) qui vont essayer de le tuer pour qu'il n'existe plus qu'un seul exemplaire de lui et que leurs activités illégales de clonage ne soient pas révélées au grand jour. Donc ça commence par une course-poursuite et ça me fume car les méchants embarquent la poupée flippante avec eux dans la voiture et elle leur parle pour devenir leur amie mdr

Ces méchants sont trop chiants car à chaque fois qu'il les bute les types sont reclonés c'est sans fin. Le grand méchant est une sorte d'Elon Musk et est aussi un clone et ça peut pas être révélé au grand jour car les clones n'ont aucun droit donc il perdrait son entreprise et ses millions de dollars du coup il est prêt à tout pour protéger son secret, et sa réponse à toutes les problématiques (proche décédé, peur du vieillissement...) est de proposer le clonage, le type ne jure que par ça sans avoir la moindre éthique vraiment Musk vibes.

Un autre détail qui me fume à son propos c'est qu'il s'appelle Michael Drucker, ce qui fait que dès qu'ils prononçaient son nom, je ne pouvais pas m'empêcher de visualiser vous-devinez-qui et de m'imaginer que c'était lui le grand méchant millionnaire cloné fan de clonage (ce qui expliquerait la longévité de l'émission Vivement Dimanche d'ailleurs... je dis ça je dis rien)

Bref pour s'en sortir, Schwarzeneger arrive à entrer en contact avec son clone, et au début son objectif c'est de le buter mais il arrive pas à buter son double et il devient très rapidement super potes avec mdr regardez les comme ils sont mignons à bricoler une petite bombe artisanale ensemble

Donc au final un bon film d'action peut-être un peu long sur la fin quand même y a 30 min de trop je dirais. Ça me fait rire car Schwarzeneger est en mode giga contre le clonage d'un point de vue éthique du début à la fin du film... sauf avec son propre clone ou si c'est pour reproduire le chien domestique de la famille et faire plaisir à sa femme mdr. Je vous laisse sur ce dialogue merveilleux entre Schwarzeneger et le grand méchant Mich(a)el Drucker :

[les-belles-mecaniques]

PORSCHE 959 CONFORT 1987

Porsche n'a rien laissé de côté lorsqu'elle a présenté la 959 en 1986. La 959 biturbo s'appuie sur les références en endurance de Porsche, répondant aux exigences d'homologation de la FIA pour au moins 200 unités de production de la voiture initialement développée pour les courses de rallye du groupe B. Par rapport à la Countach et à la F40, la 959 présentait des améliorations technologiques jamais vues en dehors des courses de haut niveau, comme un système de transmission intégrale qui répartissait dynamiquement le couple entre les roues avant et arrière. La 959 présentée ici a été vendue neuve en France avant d'arriver aux Etats-Unis en 2002

[codumofr]

Type de mécanisme autrefois utilisé dans les armes à feu et mis au point vers 1630 par l’Arquebusier Marin Bourgeois (avec une combinaison des deux systèmes à chenapan et à miquelet existant alors à cette époque). La platine à silex est un mécanisme où un morceau de silex est fixé sur le chien de l’arme (chaque pierre pourra être utilisable pour une quarantaine de coups.). Lors de la pression sur la détente, le silex heurte ainsi fortement la lamelle de fer (ou batterie) possédant une surface rugueuse, provoquant ainsi une forte étincelle. C’est en soulevant la batterie due au choc avec le silex que le bassinet renfermant la poudre d’allumage se découvre et permet le tir grâce aux étincelles issues du choc qui passe au travers d’un petit trou reliant ainsi le bassinet au canon (appelé La lumière) permettant ainsi d’enflammer la poudre et d'effectuer le tir. Utilisé durant tout le 18e siècle et connaîtra son apogée durant l’ère napoléonienne grâce à sa fiabilité plus grande que la platine à mèche tout en étant plus économique que le rouet. Toutefois, environ un coup sur cinq est raté lors du tir, rendant ainsi les ratés de tirs fréquent.

Plusieurs zones de productions en Europe sont connues pour être importantes et avoir eu de grandes quantités dans la production de ses armes. On peut par exemple citer les Monts Lessini près du lac de Garde dans le nord de l’Italie, en Angleterre dans la région de Brandon ou encore en Bavière. Pour la France, la production serait au début située dans la commune de Couffy dans le Loir-et-Cher avant de rapidement s’étendre aux alentours. Ainsi, du XVIIe au XIXe siècle, Meusnes en France sera vue comme la capitale de la production de la “Pierre à fusil” ayant même la citation de Diderot comme étant en même temps que Couffy “les endroits de la France qui produisent les meilleures pierres à fusil, et presque les seules bonnes. La production de la pierre à fusil atteint près de 40 millions d’unités au début du XIXe siècle tandis que la qualité de ses mêmes pierres aura une très grande renommée pour la région du Berry.

Nous avons aussi sur la photo, une technique d'orfèvrerie née avec l'avènement de l’arme à feu (renaissance en Europe et notamment en Italie). Consistant à embellir une arme en y gravant des motifs décoratifs dans le but de l’embellir et augmenter son prix. Généralement ayant comme des thèmes des motifs floraux (feuilles d’acanthe, de houx, d’olivier ou de chênes), des scènes animalières et de chasses, des chimères et monstres, mais aussi plus rarement des cheveux, voitures de course ou tout ce qui fait partie de l’imaginaire et du quotidien du commanditaire de la gravure. Pour la gravure, cela sera principalement les crosses d'armes, pièces en bois de noyer ou de poirier qui seront les plus ornées et décorées. Il existe aussi des incrustations de nacre, d’ivoire, d’os ou de métaux précieux qui iront consteller la monture des armes à feu alors que peu à peu, les pièces métalliques seront à leur tour décorées par les orfèvres. Ça ne sera qu’avec la fin du 19e siècle que naîtra la gravure sur des armes à feu moderne et que les crosses, suivront la mode anglaise, seront désormais uniquement quadrillés, sans aucune incrustation, rendant ainsi les armes plus impersonnelles et moi reconnaissable à leurs porteurs.

[kilfeur]

J'ai remarqué quelque chose dans cette affiche : c'est que justement le livre que tient Aaravos, on peut voir des griffes et ça m'a fait penser à ceux de Sol Regem. Donc je suis allée vérifier et avant qu'il perde sa vue, ses griffes étaient dorés. Et sur l'arrière du livre, on peut voir une sorte de symbole mais j'arrive pas à voir ce que c'est.

Quand aux oiseaux, je me demandais ce que c'était jusqu'à me rappeler de celui que Callum a vu avec l'associé du seigneur des corbeaux. Et apparemment ils ont une relation symbolique avec Sol Regem. Donc ouais il va jouer un rôle important dans la saison 6 !

Et quand à ces petites créatures inconnues qui entourent Aaravos. Ce sont des Will O'Kitt alors on ne sait pas encore ce qu'il sont exactement mais ils semblent réagir au cube. Mais j'aime bien les imaginer en petits esprits de feu pur ! Et puis leur description est assez drôle !

Sinon je remarque quelque chose concernant le bas d'Aaravos, c'est que la manière dont est dessiné sa tunique, on dirait qu'il fusionne avec chaque arcanum. Est ce que c'est ça l'effet que ça fait de pouvoir utiliser plusieurs arcanums ? Pouvoir ne faire qu'un avec lui ?

D'ailleurs la phrase qui l'accompagne fait hausser un sourcil, car il est dit qu'après tout c'est le soleil qui a trahit les étoiles ? Alors c'est soit par rapport au fait que le soleil est justement une étoile. Ou alors ça pourrait suggérer qu'il s'est passé quelque chose entre Aditi et Aaravos. Et que ça coïncidera justement avec sa disparition ! Pour ce qui est de la disparition de Lunas Tenebris, je me souviens en avoir parlé avec @konmaao3 et on avait suggéré qu'il était possible qu'Aaravos et Kim'Dael s'étaient unis pour se débarrasser d'Aditi et de Luna Tenebris. Kim'Dael s'occupant de la reine des dragons et Aaravos d'Aditi. Après ce n'est que pur spéculation ! Si ça se trouve, on a fait fausse route. Mais ça seule la saison 6 nous le dira.

I noticed something in this poster: you can see the claws on the book Aaravos is holding, and it reminded me of Sol Regem's claws. So I went to check and before he lost his sight, his claws were gold. And on the back of the book, you can see some kind of symbol, but I can't make out what it is.

As for the birds, I wondered what they were until I remembered the one Callum saw with the crow lord's associate. And apparently they have a symbolic relationship with Sol Regem. So yeah he's going to play an important role in season 6!

And as for those unknown little creatures surrounding Aaravos. They're Will O'Kitt, so we don't know exactly what they are yet, but they seem to react to the cube. But I like to imagine them as little spirits of pure fire! And their description is pretty funny!

Moreover, the sentence that accompanies it makes me raise an eyebrow, because it says that after all it was the sun that betrayed the stars? So it could be that the sun is a star. Or it could suggest that there was something going on between Aditi and Aaravos. And that it coincides with his disappearance! As for the disappearance of Lunas Tenebris, I remember talking about it with konmaao3 and we suggested that it was possible that Aaravos and Kim'Dael had joined forces to get rid of Aditi and Luna Tenebris. Kim'Dael taking care of the dragon queen and Aaravos of Aditi. Of course, this is pure speculation! Maybe we headed off on the wrong track. But only season 6 will tell.

[chic-a-gigot]

Beaux-arts des modes, no. 3, mai 1937 (New York, Paris, London, Milano, Wien, Bruxelles). Bibliothèque nationale de France

1713 Race course dress of printed crêpe mousseline. Crossed bodice, big flower bouquet. Flaring elbow sleeves with frills. Sleeveless bolero with wide revers sewn with frills, ample skirt fastened behind. — 1713a Vue of the frock alone.

[shroudandsands]

Prompt #23: On Cloud Nine

“Wanna see somethin’ cool?” Her fool’s gold gaze flicked up towards him. He was sitting on the edge of her balcony. She didn’t ask how he got there. “…Sure. Why not?”

The plaza outside the residential unit was empty, clear, and blessedly free of any of the sentries on patrol. Pyrite was kicked back on a bench with a drink from the Vue in her hand, lazily watching him with a raised brow and a constant question resting on her lips. It went unsaid, of course, as he stood a little ways before her and stared up towards the top of the building. Inspecting, waiting. He clicked his tongue. “Alright. Surveillance gone- You just hang out down here, yeah?” He gave her a thumbs-up and an award winning smile that hadn’t quite gained all the years that would come. “I promise it won’t take long.” “Sure, Gal, I’ll wait. Long as you don’t expect me to follow you up there. Or you don’t come down with somethin’ that’s gonna get the Queen asking us where our minds went…” All she got back was a wink. She sighed.

He was already scrambling up the side of the building before she could say anything else. He wasn’t normally much of a law-breaker. No reason to be in his life. But there was one law he took great glee in disrespecting at every opportunity- As he flung himself from the bottom of a wall to its top ledge with nothing but his fingertips and toes he gave a loving curse to gravity trying to keep him on the ground. A surveillance drone’s engines whined underneath him as he slipped into a nook that barely fit him. Just enough to hide from its gaze as it swung around the building; then upon finding nothing worth looking at, it chirped and swerved to fly off towards the overpass that lay high above them. He tried not to laugh. Tried not to wave at it as it went. Another floor up, another terrace, now he was really getting into the weeds. Portions that were never really meant for some random people to be climbing on. Or standing on. Or just being near. He was fairly certain most of the top side of the building was maintained by drones and sentries judging by how little of it seemed to be made accessible from the inside. Fine with him- In fact. That’s exactly why he was here. It was a pretty important part of Solution 9- and Everkeep as a whole, really- that each level was independently capable of maintaining its atmospheric conditions. Everything from air quality to humidity, temperature to air movement. And most of it was controlled by behemoth structures of electrope that were the near-constant subject of surveillance, maintenance, and updates. While he found these gargantuan machines to be truly magnificent wonders of technology, he had a more grounded focus. A smaller scale idea in mind. The selfsame machines had smaller, localized, and specialized variants spread out throughout Solution 9. Many of which adorned the top and sides of buildings and structures- Especially the residential buildings. While no access was available, really, from the insides there was no reason to restrict them from the outside. Nobody sane was gonna climb the damn thing to get to them. And even if they did, what were they gonna do? Not like they had much in the way of controls, right?

As Galena slipped his flat-knife between the body of the machine and the maintenance panel he couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him. He was, frankly, insane enough to do it. Especially for something like this.

“Hey, Pyre,” Came the crackle of his voice over her earpiece. She blinked out of the daze she’d fallen into before cocking her head and looking up. She couldn’t see him. “Yeah? You in trouble… wherever you’re at?” “Nope, just wanted to ask you a question.” She sat there for a moment, her jaw set. “As long as it ain’t the one I’m thinkin’ of.” He returned the momentary silence. “Remember when I was readin’ off those old sensor reports to ya?”

She clicked her tongue as her brow furrowed. She set down the drink she’d been ignoring and took in a breath as she tried to recall- That was years ago now, wasn’t it? They’d been assigned together. She was his guard, he was the scavenger. Get into an old monitoring station and take everything- even the wiring in the walls. Honestly it hadn’t been much of a memorable day. The rain was heavy but the lightning was merciful. “…Yeah…? You found some old storage or whatever and got really excited about… weather reports? I remember it was somethin’ about the rain.” The confident sound of his laugh came crackling through. “Yeah, the rain. Really old rain and weather reports that I don’t think anybody else would care for. But do you remember the specifics of why I was so happy to find ‘em?”

He didn’t need to see her face to know what expression she made. She didn’t need to see him to know he was grinning ear to ear.

A drop of water hit her on the head. She shielded her eyes as she looked up- Another, then another. The smell of rain filled the plaza, the taste of it filling the artificial lawn, the sight of it spilling across the walkways, the feeling of a light summer shower that hadn’t graced much else in so many a year, the scent of petrichor filling her head like a drug. But the sunlight of Everkeep’s sky-high life still glinted down. Galena’s voice crackled again as she stood in it, dumbfounded by him as she watched him descend down the side of the building giddy like a kid on his birthday. He was soaked. He was laughing. He was laughing the whole way down. “Sunshowers, Rite!”

[neonghostlily]

Avant qu’il ne soit trop tard

Fandom : Cyberpunk 2077 Pairing : Goro Takemura / V (version femme) Langue : Français Classification : Tout public Genre : Romance, introspection, tension douce, premier baiser Longueurs : 1 120 mots

Résumé : Elle ne savait pas comment le dire. Elle savait juste qu’elle devait le faire — avant qu’il ne soit trop tard.

-`✮´- English Version / Masterlist -`✮´- La série The Samurai and la Fleur de bitume : Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. La lumière du soir baignait la ferme d'une douceur paresseuse. 

Tout sentait la fin de journée : l’air tiède, les rires étouffés des enfants encore dans la cour, la poussière dorée en suspension. 

V s’était laissée prendre au jeu, elle aussi. À courir, plaisanter, manger trop de gâteaux maison. 

River l’avait invitée pour fêter le rétablissement de son neveu, Randy, et elle avait accepté avec plaisir. Une petite victoire dans la grande machine qu’était devenue sa vie. Une parenthèse douce. 

Maintenant, elle était assise sur les marches du perron, une bouteille de soda tiède à la main, ses bottes crottées croisées l'une sur l'autre. 

Elle observait River discuter avec sa sœur dans la cuisine. Ils riaient en lavant la vaisselle. 

Elle sourit doucement. Elle aurait pu y croire. Juste un instant.  Un monde loin des armes, des courses-poursuites, de la puce dans sa tête. 

Elle savait que ça ne durerait pas. Que la réalité finirait par la rattraper. Mais c’était bon de faire autre chose que tuer, voler, survivre. Juste un soir. 

"Hey, V !" lança River en lui faisant signe. 

Elle se leva, tapota la poussière de son jean, et le rejoignit.  Il s'essuya les mains sur un torchon, saisit une bouteille de whisky miteuse, et désigna le château d’eau d’un signe de tête. 

"Vue imprenable. Tu montes ?" 

Elle haussa une épaule, amusée. Pourquoi pas. 

Ils gravirent l’échelle rouillée, le métal grinçant à chaque barreau. Là-haut, l’air était plus frais.  Night City scintillait à l’horizon, comme un mauvais rêve tenu à distance. 

Ils s’assirent sur le bord, jambes pendantes dans le vide. 

De là, ils parlèrent de tout et de rien : les dernières missions de V, l’ancien boulot de River. Même des amours et amitiés foireuses. De regrets, de trucs pas si bien rangés dans la mémoire. 

V se sentait un peu plus légère. 

Elle laissa son regard filer vers les lumières de la ville en ne pensant à rien. 

Jusqu’à qu’elle sentit une main effleurée la sienne. 

Elle baissa les yeux pour regarder le destinataire de ce geste et rencontra ceux de River. 

River la regardait avec ce sourire qu’il croyait charmeur. Il ouvrit la bouche :    "V… faut que je te dise…" 

Elle retira doucement sa main. Gentiment, mais fermement.  

"River…"

Un froncement de sourcils. 

"Pourquoi pas ? Ça t’a pas plu, aujourd’hui ? J’veux dire… t’avais l’air heureuse. On fait une bonne équipe, non ?" 

V resta un moment silencieuse. Elle chercha une réponse dans la ville en bas. Dans le ciel. Partout sauf dans ses yeux à lui. 

"C’est vrai. C’était bien. Je pense pas qu’on soit faits pour être ensemble, toi et moi. T’es quelqu’un de bien, mais ..." 

Et là, une image s’imposa. 

Pas la ferme. Pas la famille autour de la table. 

Un manteau sombre. Un regard intense.  Une voix grave, comme une lame posée sur son cœur.  Une main sur son épaule au bon moment. Pas pour la retenir. Pour l’ancrer.  Un regard mi-exaspéré, mi-amusé, après une de ses blagues beaucoup trop salées, qu’il la faisait rire si fort.  

River était ... bien. Mais ce n’était pas lui. 

Son cœur battait un peu plus fort à cette réalisation. 

Elle inspira profondément. 

"Je suis désolée, River. Vraiment. Mais… c’est pas toi." 

Elle n’attendit pas de réponse. Elle se leva et elle descendit l’échelle, d’un pas ferme et décidé. 

Elle laissa derrière elle cette soirée “parfaite”. 

Elle devait le voir. Maintenant. 

Le vent fouettait ses cheveux alors que V filait sur sa moto à travers les artères de Night City. Les lumières, les néons, les murmures de la ville passaient à toute vitesse. Son cœur battait plus fort que le moteur. 

Elle appela Takemura pour le prévenir — histoire de ne pas se prendre une balle dans le genou. 

"V ?" fit sa voix, toujours aussi maîtrisée. 

"J’arrive" répondit-elle. 

"Quelque chose ne va pas ?" 

Elle ne repondit pas, faisant mine d’être très concentrée sur la route.  

"Je... je t’expliquerai. Je suis presque là." 

"V..." 

"Attends-moi." 

Il hésita. Puis : 

"D’accord. Je t’attends." 

L’appel se coupa. Elle accéléra. 

Quelques minutes plus tard, elle atteignit Corpo Plaza. Son quartier préféré bien sur elle pensa avec sarcasme. Elle gara la moto à l’arrache, dérapant presque. Des regards de passant tournaient dans sa direction. Elle ignora tout. 

Elle entra dans l’un des buildings de luxe. Une résidence discrète. Pas de logo Arasaka apparent, mais elle n’était pas idiote. Hanako avait dû lui obtenir ce logement : planqué, sécurisé.  

Elle monta dans l’ascenseur. 

Et là, dans le silence de la cabine, ça la frappa. 

Putain. Elle n’avait pas pensé à ce qu’elle allait dire. Pas préparé un mot. Une phrase. Rien. Elle allait débarquer, tremblante, confuse. C’était ridicule. Elle voulut hurler de honte et de désespoir.  

Mais elle n’avait plus le luxe d’attendre. 

Elle allait peut-être mourir. Et elle ne voulait pas emporter ça avec elle. 

Elle voulait lui dire. Même s’il la repoussait. Même s’il ne comprenait pas. 

Il fallait qu’il le sache. 

Le "ding" de l’ascenseur la sortit de ses pensées. 

Elle inspira. Une fois. Deux fois. 

Puis elle marcha jusqu’à la porte. 

Elle leva la main. Hésita. 

Et frappa. Quatre coups. Bien évidemment. 

Takemura ouvrit la porte aussitôt après les quatre coups.  Sans un mot, il l’attrapa doucement par l’épaule, la fit entrer rapidement, puis jeta un regard vif dans le couloir derrière elle. Vérification rapide. Réflexe. Rien à signaler. Il referma la porte derrière eux, verrouilla. 

V resta debout dans l’entrée, le souffle un peu court, le cœur tambourinant dans sa poitrine. 

Son regard se posa sur l’appartement. C’était épuré, silencieux, élégant dans un style minimaliste qui lui allait parfaitement : presque impersonnel, mais chaque objet semblait à sa place. Fonctionnel, mais confortable. 

Elle inspira doucement pour calmer le tremblement de ses mains. Tu vas crever avant d’ouvrir la bouche si tu continues comme ça. 

"V." 

Au son de sa voix, elle se retourna. 

Et toutes ses pensées s’arrêtèrent. 

Ils se regardèrent. Longtemps. Aucun mot ne venait. Aucun n’était nécessaire. Elle le regardait comme si c’était la première fois. Et lui, dans ce regard-là, lut la réalisation. 

Il ouvrit légèrement la bouche, comme pour dire quelque chose… puis la referma. Elle aussi aurait voulu parler, mais il n’y avait rien qui pouvait sortir.  

Et puis… ils bougèrent. Qui en premier ? Aucun n’aurait pu le dire mais ils se retrouvèrent.    Leurs lèvres se frôlèrent, hésitantes, puis s’unirent dans un baiser doux, presque chuchoté. Un baiser fait de lenteur, de tendresse, de tout ce qu’ils n’avaient jamais osé se dire.  

Il la tenait contre lui, une main sur sa taille, l’autre glissée dans son dos avec beaucoup de douceur. Elle, les doigts posés timidement sur sa chemise, comme si ce simple tissu pouvait l’ancrer. 

Ils se séparèrent pour pouvoir reprendre leur souffle.  

Elle ne releva pas tout de suite les yeux. Elle resta fixée sur un des boutons de sa chemise comme si c’était la chose la plus fascinante au monde. Elle était aussi complètement rouge.  

Et alors, il leva la main. 

Ses doigts touchèrent doucement sa joue, l’invitant à le regarder. 

Elle leva les yeux vers lui. Il la fixait avec une tendresse brûlante, ses traits adoucis, les pupilles dilatées. Elle eut le souffle presque coupé.  

Et cette fois, c’est lui qui l’embrassa. 

Pas timidement. Pas doucement. 

Avec faim. Avec une passion contenue trop longtemps. 

Elle répondit, d’abord surprise, avec une ferveur maladroite, timide mais sincère. Ses bras se levèrent, entourèrent son cou, alors qu’il la serrait plus fort encore. Un bras autour de sa taille, l’autre glissé dans sa nuque, ses doigts contre sa mâchoire. 

Il la serra comme s’il craignait qu’elle s’efface. 

Au bout d’un moment, ils se détachèrent à peine. Il laissa des baisers errer sur ses lèvres, au coin de sa bouche, sur son menton. 

Puis il la regarda. 

Elle semblait à bout de souffle. Les joues roses. Les yeux brillants. 

"V" murmura-t-il. 

Elle ferma les yeux, pencha la tête contre sa main qui était restée contre sa joue. 

Puis, comme épuisée par tout ce qu’elle ressentait, elle se blottit contre lui, son visage enfoui contre sa chemise. 

Il la serra encore. Une main glissant lentement dans ses cheveux. L’autre caressant son dos, la gardant contre lui. Comme s'il pouvait la tenir à l’abris de tout.  

Ils savaient qu’il faudrait parler de ce qui venait de se passer.  

Mais pas ce soir. 

Pas encore. 

Pas tant qu’ils pouvaient rester là, dans cette bulle suspendue. Loin d’Arasaka. Loin de la relique. 

Juste eux. 

Enfin.  ˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

Merci d’avoir lu ! Cette scène trottait dans ma tête depuis longtemps — il fallait un moment décisif, pour que V et Goro se trouvent enfin. J’espère que ce premier baiser vous a touché autant que moi en l’écrivant. À bientôt pour d’autres fragments de leur histoire. 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

[ferrocyan]

ffxiv write day 1 - steer

victor's march, then piety ii, go right til you get to peony street, then left at the first intersec...

nope, he forgot again, peony's been replaced by a block of now-defunct shops. he circles it to the right this time, hoping to find familiar streets and whatever may be waiting at the end of this odd map, but it's no use. alexandria really has changed from the old days. tart swallows a familiar melancholy and turns back to the march.

he'd gone out alone earlier for food and a drink, found the former at a shop in true vue, and the latter at a small, hidden establishment just off piety iv. a pub, probably, only different in the way everything in solution nine is. he enjoyed a shockingly artificial-tasting plum liquor laced with honey, too sweet for his taste but he thinks reeq would like it. the place had a songstress, too, just like eulmore's honeybee--now that one's an artificial sweet he likes. yeah, he definitely will come back again.

interestingly enough, as he was leaving the pub, tart noticed a note on his table. it had a small scribbled map and some writing. street names aside, he was familiar with the depicted no-longer-victor's march. he thought to follow this curious lead to its destination, but alas. he considers trying to navigate again when suddenly his hand is seized.

someone emerged from a nearby alley and grabs him, dragging him in. tart lets them do so. when they let go and face him with a huff, he looks them over. a young hyur woman with blonde hair tucked into her cap and large sunglasses covering her eyes, which she takes off to glare at him. "i've been here for fifteen minutes! how dare you make me wait?!"

ah, so this is his destination. tart gives her a nod in apology. "sorry about that, miss. can i help you?"

"huh? wait, i should be asking you that! what do you want from me?" demands the woman.

"have... we met?"

tart's bewilderment at her question makes her fume. "un-be-fucking-lievable--you tracked me down, probably stalked me, broke into my private club, stared me down while i was just, trying to do my job entertaining my drones, i gave you the meeting you want and you stood me up, and now you ask what do i want?" she stabs a finger at his chest for every emphasis, and her hands move to hold him by the shoulders. "here's what i want, either you tell me your business or fuck off, souleater!"

tart blinks. "...oh. ohh! you're miss honey b. lovely from ascension arcadia!" no wonder her voice is familiar. tart starts to give her a proper greeting, but cuts himself off with a yelp as honey stomps on his foot. "what's that fo--okay, sorry! bad with faces! please forgive me!"

he raises his hands in surrender, and the motion startles her for a moment before she recovers and shoves him away. tart feels a pit in his stomach. right, of course--regulator-less souleater is exactly as much of a monster inside and outside the ring. he doesn't really get what honey was saying about him stalking her, but if she feels that way then it must be terrifying to see him here. it's rather daring of her to confront him like this, tart thinks. quite admirable. his hand went up to rub the back of his neck, and now he clasps it before his heart and bows to her.

"miss lovely, really--i'm really sorry for the trouble. honestly didn't mean to seek you out, but i do want to thank you. had a fun time with the fight, and..." he coughs, "thought i could never feel so happy again. so ver--i'm very grateful for the chance. that's all."

honey listens, confused, and leans down to take a closer look. "are you, like... for real?" she asks. tart lifts his head to meet her gaze and nods.

"won't bother you again, i promise."

"hmm," she tilts her head, then shakes it. "nope, that's not good enough. i waited for you for so long! the least you should do is treat me to dinner, isn't that right? it would only be polite," she tells him cheerfully.

tart blinks. "oh. sure. what's good nearby... the pub at magnolia st. should be open still?"

"at what street?"

tripped over his own feet again. tart shakes his head. "you pick, then. 'm good with anything."

honey giggles as she walks ahead, though spares a moment to look back and watch him without saying a word. tart keeps a distance as he follows her.

[burinazar]

(This post is mostly a direct copy-paste with edits of my twitter thread about the same thing, so you don't need to bother reading it if you've seen that already. Contains spoilers for MiA season 2!)

ahhh. the abyss wiki has one of Irumyuui's occupations listed as this. (Ebil takes 1000hp mental damage and expires)

Now i personally have been known to talk a lot more often about how "made a symbolic religious sacrifice" is what the Ganja and most directly Waz and Vue did to Belaf, but that's because i'm trying to point out something that isn't obvious. Meanwhile i don't usually point out that deification is also what they all did to Irumyuui because, well...duh! This one seems blindingly obvious in being the conclusion the narrative wants us to reach. Elevation, idolatry, cast in the role of savior and praised as a "queen"...for all intents and purposes just another form of dehumanization, if less physical and literal than the other that she suffered.

The sages, and Irumyuui. A prophet and a savior and a sacrifice -- "we sought to become something more than human" -- and, of course, one who was human until the end...

But, to be more precise i think the Three Idiots themselves weren't actually able to find self-deceiving refuge in a view of Iru as a holy savior instead of an exploited child. When Vueko says 'people can get used to anything, even hell', I take it as referring to (among other things) how the rest of the Squad were able to rationalize and live with this. The non-sage Ganja seem a lot more likely to fall into that kind of thinking, from the bits we see -- the taking of the children seems to become a sort of ritual for them.

Vueko and Belaf were never able to think of her as a holy savior for a second, both of them literally tried to kill themselves because they were TOO aware their 'salvation' was not divine providence but the product of making a child (THEIR CHILD!) suffer. And I think Waz is uhh. very realistic about what they were doing. Also, I get the sense that HE didn't view himself as having a 'righteous' heavenly mandate -- while he feels moved by a higher power that 'gathered' them all, i don't at allthink that he would claim moral absolution on those grounds the way religiously or spiritually motivated characters doing bad things in fiction are sometimes seen to do. (Relatedly, I speculate he wouldn't really see it in terms of absolution or culpability at all -- I believe his sense of personal responsibility and free will may be very skewed by his prophet situation, but that's getting into the weeds of Waz speculation that i could write several posts on alone...)

No, I think all three of them understood more clearly than all their followers that Irumyuui was just a child thrust into the role of savior.

Meanwhile the rest of them, the ones we see kneel and pray at various junctures...them... there is a strong sense that the rest -- just as, i suspect, they believed in 'the nameless god' more than the sages actually did -- accepted everything that happened as divine providence. If they thought about Iru's personal suffering at all (and that's quite a big if) they may have regarded it as her preordained role, the reason she was sent to them...

...I really want to know what Pakkoyan thought about this. She's the most demonstrably 'faithful' out of the named characters -- in the anime she's notably the one who assigns a spiritual meaning (absolution and the forgiveness of sin) to the village. That seems pretty clear confirmation to me that she's inclined to buy into the mindset described above. BUT. She is also close to Vueko and must know how Vue was taking it. Does this strike her as contradictory? Does it disturb her that the person she loved was disgusted by what she and the rest of the Ganja saw as holy salvation?

...now that i wrote "she must know how Vue was taking it", i'm wondering if she actually did or not lmao. given that i often picture Pakko having an idealized view of Vueko (the continuity with Vueko's idealized view of Belaf and Belaf's of Wazukyan pleases me) she may not have realized how horribly Vue was doing lol.

Anyway I got a little lost at the end there in Pakkospeculation (listen it's the narrative's fault for barely characterizing her ok) but. Yeah. This is my general view on the in-story deification of Iru and how the sages versus everyone else may have felt on it