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katakaluptastrophy · 5 months

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You know how it goes: through some incredible circumstances, God and a young woman living under the shadow of an oppressive empire have a metaphysically unusual baby who grows up to be a general nuisance, won't stay dead, and sports a few additional holes...

It's the third Sunday of Advent and I'm a little concerned Bible studies for weird goth kids might be turning into a series... Let's talk about the Blessed Virgin Mary and Commander Awake Remembrance of These Valiant Dead Kia Hua Ko Te Pai Snap Back to Reality Oops There Goes Gravity.

Wake was probably never described as "gentle", "meek", or "mild", but there are a few similarities: distinctive outfits, snazzy shrines, commitment to putting down the mighty from their seats, and of course babies with great and terrible destinies niftily conceived without sex.

On the topic of conception, let's clear up a common, uh, misconception: the term "immaculate conception" does not refer to Mary becoming pregnant with Jesus. It's Mary's own conception.

Why are we talking about how Mary was conceived and what does this have to do with lesbian necromancers?

To answer that question, we have to go back further still, way before Mary's conception. Back to these guys and their unfortunate snack cravings:

Remember how last time we talked about the concept of being in a state of grace? Well, the Christian read on Adam and Eve is that a state of grace was, as it were, the factory setting for humanity. They were fully in tune with God, there was no sickness or death, there was no sin. Until, that is, the whole unfortunate business with the apple. The first sin. The world is fundamentally altered. Humanity is expelled from paradise, burdened with sin, death, disease, patriarchy, and work. Worse, this sinful human nature turns out to be sexually transmissible: every human being is born tainted by this "original sin" of Adam and Eve.

This is why Catholicism is so big on baptising babies: even if they're many years off being able to commit any sins themselves (a sin has to be something consciously chosen and understood), they're still contaminated by that original sin of Adam and Eve. Baptism is understood to erase original sin, wiping the slate clean.

Bear with me, we'll be back to necromancers soon I promise. Have a picture of Mary beating up the devil while an angel holds baby Jesus:

OK, but what does Adam and Eve's danger snack have to do with Mary's conception?

The "immaculate conception" refers to the idea that unlike every human being between Adam and Jesus, Mary was conceived without the contamination of original sin. The rationale for this is complex, but essentially boils down to something like the saving power of Jesus not being bound by piffling things like time and space and thus saving his mother before her own conception and allowing himself to also be conceived and born sinless.

But the important bit is that something specific about Mary means that she is uniquely able to be pregnant with Jesus.

You may be starting to guess where this is going...

Because while unconventional pregnancy seems to have been the plan from the get-go for Jesus, it was not with the artist formerly known as The Bomb:

“I had the baby,” said Wake. “The baby I’d had to incubate myself for nine long fucking months, when the foetal dummies these two gave me died.”

“Oh, God, it was yours,” said Augustine, in horror. “I thought you’d used in vitro on one of Mercy’s—”

“I said they all died,” said Wake. “The dummies died. The ova died. Only the sample was still active, no idea how considering it was twelve weeks after the fact, but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“So you used it on yourself,” said Augustine. “Anything for the revolution, eh, Wake?”

We have to assume the foetal dummies plan was hatched by Mercymorn, a brilliant scientist with a myriad of experience. If the problem encountered by Wake were as simple as Lyctoral infertility, I suspect Mercy would have spotted that long before.

But what do Wake and John have in common that Mercymorn or any of the other ova-having residents of the Mithraeum did not? They are both (to some extent at least) factory setting humans: unlike everyone else in the Dominicus system, they never died and were resurrected, nor are they the descendants people who were. John's abilities, while macabre, are not straightforwardly the necromancy otherwise practiced in the Houses. That necromancy is a direct result of one specific act of taking that resulted in the very nature of the world changing: a thanergetic system, inhabited by human beings who, necromancer or not, are fundamentally tainted by thanergy and by the after effects of that action of John's. You might call it a sin. An indelible sin. He does.

It's not an exact parallel, but necromancy certainly occupies a space not dissimilar to original sin: the result of a single action, tainting every descendant of its progenitors regardless of their actions of abilities.

And then enter Gideon, born in space away from the thanergetic energy of the Dominicus system to a mother lacking the 10,000 year intergenerational burden of the resurrection and necromancy. The child of Jod, born to die.

#the locked tomb #tlt #tlt meta #awake remembrance of these valiant dead #commander wake #gideon nav #john gaius #Sin will not survive the second coming of Jesus so what does that say about necromancy at the end of the series?

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clovercrafted · 1 year

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✨ the shrine of remembrance ✨

Thought by Duskwood historians to be a long forgotten place of worship this old cave seems to have been taken over by an overgrowth of plant life.

Tah-dah, finally finished the portal room and the connecting nether portal too! The first shot is the nether-side portal while the rest is the remains of the stronghold I consumed.

Tag list ☘️: (ask to be +/-, if you changed your url/changed blogs and I lost track of you, let me know if you’d like to be readded!)

@gronglegrowth @absintheaftershock @adairctedgibbgirl @theronlovingcare @thefoxesraven @yourfriendphoenix @entomolodee @grymmdark @polnareffsbrows @sluttysoulcowboy @sculkgrowths @berieecraft @asynchronouscommunication

Blocks used: amethyst, basalt, stone, cobblestone, mossy cobble, andestite, oak planks, glow berries, flowering azalea leaves, calcite, sea grass, kelp, sea pickles

#minecraft #mineblr #minecraft build #minecraft inspo #minecraft aesthetic #my builds #world: Duskwood #the atmosphere of being in this place is off the charts

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bou-vie · 1 year

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Shrine of Remembrance

Melbourne, July 2022

#mamiya 7 #medium format #6x7 #Kodak Gold 200 #Shrine of Remembrance #Melbourne

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likeniobe · 6 months

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thomas nashe's prose is so crazy because it's partly the most 1590s language you've ever heard but every once in a while there's a sentence that sounds so not 1590s that it knocks you flat. I was revisiting the unfortunate traveller yesterday and keep turning this passage around in my mind from when the narrator is being shown around rome

He showed us all the monuments that were to be seen, which are as many as there have been emperors, consuls, orators, conquerors, famous painters or players in Rome. Til this day not a Roman (if he be a right Roman indeed) will kill a rat, but he will have some registered remembrance of it. [...] There are a number of other shrines and statues also dedicated to their emperors, and withal some statues of idolatry reserved for detestation. I was at Pontius Pilate's house and pissed against it.

#sp #final sentence has the cadence of a lot of preps stared at me I put up my middle finger at them

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jeanhm · 4 months

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Melbourne

Up stupidly early given how little we have slept recently but it meant we got into the city and parked by 8.30 so we could find some coffee and breakfast. we parked just off Little Bourke St close to the Victoria Parliament building so after breakfast in a cafe we started our mammoth walking tour with the Parliament building and the Old treasury buildings before heading across Fitzroy Gardens towards Cooks cottage. I am surprised at how many buildings have Dutch gable effects and there are some stunning Victorian buildings with high decoration interspersed with the most modern of high rise within the central CBD. There are also a surprising amount of parks and in that sense it does remind me a little of London with the bustling city intersected by beautiful Victorian Parks , though there are far less people here than in London of course. As it is summer here the flowers and parks are laid out beautifully with loads of flowers and we also met some very tame local birds who are clearly used to approaching people.

At Cooks Cottage there was a useful info point where we were able to pick up some maps and here we also learned that within the central area the trams are totally free which we didn't know so later on we did make the most of that snippet of info.

After seeing Cooks Cottage we made our way back towards Federation Square getting coffee on the way and then crossed the Yarra River towards Skydeck. We hadn't prebooked but it was certainly not busy despite the Aussie Tennis Open being on in the city at present and we were some of the first in at 12 noon when it opened. The lift to the 88th floor takes 38 seconds and the view from the top was very clear with a fab view right round including out over the ocean. We could clearly see the Rod Laver tennis centre and the Melbourne Cricket Ground. Although there was a breeze it wasn't windy so we could also go out into the outdoor caged area.

Once we had descended we walked down through the Queen Victoria Gardens and the Kings Domain to the Shrine of Remembrance which is a stunning epitaph to all those who have served in wars even a memorial to the horses. By now the heat had started to rack up and on the way back we did have to go both slowly and edge from patch of shade to patch of shade as it was simply too hot to be out in the open.

Back at Flinders Street we got the free tram out to the Docklands area. I think we both expected this are to be a bit busier and bustling with people but no, hardly anyone. There were just a few luxury yachts but we did find an amazingly good Lebanese restaurant and the food was amazing and frankly there was far to much for the two of us so we ended up with a large doggy box of food which should do us for tonight.

Then it was back to the tram and back to Bourke Street to the car about 3.30pm and then the attempt to get out of town to Geelong with a sat nav that was rubbish and didn't recognised road closures and with Andy following that instead of my instructions we did end up going through the city in quite an interesting and challenging manner. It doesn't help that to the west of Melbourne there is a major new highway being constructed at high level. It is going to take years but at present it is just traffic chaos.

we eventually got out and headed to our overnight motel in Geelong , clean and practical but nothing special but only 5 minutes from the Spirit of Tasmania ferry which we need to catch tomorrow at 7.30am.

Don't think it will be a late night!

#Melbourne #eureka tower #shrine of remembrance

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m1d-45 · 10 months

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judas

summary: who can be blamed for a world wide calamity? the executioner, the judge, or the jury?

word count: ~1.3k

-> warnings: mention of blood, implied death(you, but you revive after), um minor spoilers for inazuma and sumeru archon quest, as well as for kazuha lore

-> gn reader (you/yours) and unspecified traveller (no pronouns)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr

< masterlist >

to see a god is a feat most strive their whole lives toward. to bear witness to one so much holier than you, to view a deity far beyond your time. mortals pray to statues and shrines, each vying for the eye of the heavens, a select few showing off their rewards in the form of a gleaming vision.

but even those with a vision cannot see the stars. true gods- the true god is a memory beholden to only a few, to those that remember the times prior to the archon war. before the creator lifted to celestia, sequestered away far from the petty meddling of people.

they’re missed. they’re always missed. the gods have a hole their gnoses are too small to fill, a deep ache that beats with their hearts, yearning for the one they called ‘home.’ it’s not unlike the feeling one gets on a clear night, looking up to the stars, knowing the world’s so vast and you are so small, unsure whether to be afraid or comforted.

so they wish their god a well recovery? do they grieve the idea that they may die before that happens? do they grab a bottle from the shelf and bear headaches without hangovers, do they sit at a worn table and drink tea nobody else remembers, do they sleep endlessly, hoping to dream instead? what does one do, when so alone? what does one do, when the stars blanket the sky and they are struck with the remembrance of their finite lives?

mortals get up from their blankets. look away, go to bed, rise the next day with the only star they know being the one that warms the stones beneath their feet. but gods don’t tire easily, and the nights are known for stretching far longer than days.

the unlucky ones die.

the cursed are given a false prophet.

“if you remember me, then i don’t care if anyone else forgets.”

the greater lord was kind. too kind. beloved. unfairly so. how strange, she wondered, fading to dust, that she did not see her god greeting her. how odd, she thought, that the closest she had come to heaven was within the moments before her death.

it’s not her fault. it never was. the eyes that watched from celestia were hard with iron and not time, cruel with choice and not purpose. so many died, so many didn’t have to, so many fell under the foot of a fraud while their true colors hid behind a mask.

“do you remember me?”

“do you?”

it wasn’t your fault either. it never was. your chosen warrior, your first picked, saved from the grips of the one who had stolen your place. so many people, so many names, so many conversations held within proxy. the earth remembered, the people rejoiced, and yet it was only your golden companion that questioned the sea.

(the waves calmed. eons old bodies finally laid to rest. the abyss itself stilled for just a moment, just long enough to stop and watch you smile, and even now occasionally lent an ear to your pride.)

how unfair, that you once laughed together but now cry alone.

to lay eyes upon the divine is one thing. to view with one’s own eyes even a fraction of true power is enough to blind the commons, and even the most ancient dragon must bow its head. but to touch? to hold, to grasp, to feel universes thrumming beneath your fingers, the power of giants hovering barely an inch away?

“we named a constellation after you.”

you had said hello. a god, a being so far beyond mortal understanding, crouching to one knee and extending a hand to a child that had fallen. you could have walked by. perhaps on another day you might’ve. but you didn’t recognize the world as your home, and she didn’t recognize you as hers, fleeing to the guards the moment she saw something a little too bright in your eyes.

it wasn’t your fault. the ground is stained with blue and that child’s hand burns with the fire found in the core of a newborn sun, hot and new far too much for someone so young to handle. a samurai will never be able to look at his sword the same way again, but you shouldn’t blame yourself for that either. his hand holds the grip as his own shakes, red eyes struggling to take in what he sees.

the human mind reacts strangely when it sees something it doesn’t understand. it fizzles, stops, the wiring going dull as it realizes its neurons are far too small to comprehend the unusual stimuli. unfortunately, this response does not lend itself to survival, and the drive to live overshadows your cries for the same.

he doesn’t like the visit that part of town anymore. he can’t look at maple leaves without remembering how they stuck to the ground, weighed down by blood. he visits a familiar grave, tucked between two sharp cliffs, lingering far past the settling of lavender melon on the ground. he kneels there for a few hours too long, wondering of all the what ifs.

it’s not his fault either. it’s nobody’s. they were given a candlelight and were told it was a star, even as they watched the wax drip. he was doing his best, and it just so happened that in the blind grasp for a handhold, he’d pushed you away. he couldn’t see. it wasn’t his fault.

“don’t blame yourself, kazuha.”

“the tide does not stop rising when asked. neither does the guilt.”

it wasn’t his fault.

you try to remind yourself of this, at times. so does he. the two of you lie awake at inane hours of night, searching the sky for an answer.

what happened? what went wrong? was it me? was it anyone?

celestia looks down with eyes of fake steel, looking between you and the empty throne behind them. they’d finally caved, thrown the one they puppeted for the vishaps to dissect and the hillichurls to pull apart, but now worried. they’d certainly be punished if it was known they’d allowed this to happen… was it their fault, perhaps?

eyes sought out others, the council known as ‘heaven’ lost for what to do. their eyes joined yours, as yours joined kazuha’s, all tilted up and beginning to turn glassy.

the universe is so big, each star their own system, and it’s so hard to feel like any more than sand when it’s displayed so clearly. maybe it was kazuha’s fault, for not recognizing the light you shed as that of the sun. maybe it was celestia’s, for continuing to entertain an impossible fantasy. maybe it was the earth’s, for guiding you where it thought was safe, maybe maybe maybe. it doesn’t matter. did it ever? your heart burns with grief—love—as you go to bed, sheltered within a hilichurl camp. kazuha stays up too late, punishing himself with the fog of sleepiness that lasts a little too long the next day. celestia doesn’t feel guilt, for when did it ever, but the next day is unproductive, something strange taking place of the air there.

maybe it was nobody’s fault. maybe the world was disjointed, unfamiliar with your presence, stuttering for a moment as it collected itself once more. maybe in that moment of confusion, of flickering light and a burnt out flame, tragedy had struck like lightning. the universe was illuminated, bathed in the gleam of your power, able to see what it couldn’t in darkness.

it wouldn’t happen again, but that didn’t stop it from hurting. scars still ached when it rained, and the skies were weeping as it realized what had occurred in shadow.

#sagau #genshin #genshin impact #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #sagau genshin #kazuha #kaedehara kazuha #sagau kaedehara kazuha #sagau kazuha #gn reader #genshin self aware au #written at 3:30-4am lmao #pro of writing at 3am: words!#cons: it’s THESE ones….#i like it when i get all metaphorical and vague like this sometimes; genuinely. it’s a cool facet of my style that i do enjoy #on OCCASION.

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queenmikoto · 6 months

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Traditions

(I’m making up my own Uchiha tradition based on this image and the Japanese Festival Tsukimi, the Autumn Moon Festival)

Fic under cut. Ao3 link

As one of the founding clans of Konoha, the Uchiha took pride in their traditions and festivals. Outsiders were rarely, if ever, allowed to join.

There were winter prayers in the Naka shrine, the whole clan kneeling, praying, sharing the warmth of the flames at the front of the room. Sasuke remembered fidgeting and his mother’s graceful hand alighting on his knee to stop his squirming. His father sat at the front of the room leading the prayer, Itachi kneeling tall and proud behind him. The fur collar of his kimono tickled his cheeks.

Spring brought the cherry blossom viewing festival and his mother’s most beautiful kimono, a silvery grey with white and pink petals all over. The slippery silk was cool to the touch and the potpourri that his mother kept in the folds was always comforting to him. He sometimes wished he could use it as a blanket, his mother said no but offered her soft apron covered lap as a substitute and that worked just as well.

Summer had street fairs. The whole clan, usually reserved, let loose and had fun. Children running and playing, the adults indulgently smiling. Outsiders were let in and the Uchiha went out among the people, the whole village celebrated. Sasuke clung to his brothers hand or rode on his fathers shoulders in the crowd. The family together, and happy. He always got a new cotton yukata for his birthday, to wear to the festivals, the Uchiha crest stitched by his mothers own hands.

Autumn was the Tsuki no Inori festival. There was no need for fancy clothes or loud music and laughter. Every year on the night of the first full moon in Autumn all of the Uchiha, young and old came together in the heart of the Uchiha district to light candles and share the love and celebrate the bonds in the clan.

Sasuke was excited to stay up past his bedtime and to spend time with Itachi who had grown increasingly busy as a newly minted chunin. He held his small candle tightly as he walked behind his mother and father, Shisui at his side and Itachi holding his other hand. The rest of the clan followed behind, the light of the full moon guiding their steps to the bank of the river. They stood in a loose circle, the moonlight creating halos on their dark hair. There were artful arrangements of pampas grass that his mother helped with. He had helped too, handing her the stalks to put into the vases, she occasionally tickled him with it, gently caressing his cheek when he got distracted. To the side there was a table with sake, tea, and traditional tsukimi soba, chestnuts, edamame and piles of tsukimi dango. Sasuke could see Itachi eyeing the dango with a wistful look.

Fugaku came to the center of the circle, the whispers silenced as he addressed the crowd.

“We gather here today, as we do every year, to celebrate the autumn moon. To also celebrate the bonds between us and our members of the clan that have passed on. Tonight we will light the flames in remembrance of them and to honor the history of our clan. The Uchiha crest on each of your backs represents the fan that rouses the flames of our wills and our hearts.”

Fugaku looked towards Mikoto with a softness Sasuke rarely saw on his face. She stepped forward towards her husband. She held up her candle, in it’s simple flower shaped holder, Fugaku’s hands slowly and deliberately formed the signs for a Katon jutsu. The flames bloomed from his mouth and lit the candle in his wife’s unflinching hands. She was wreathed in light, not the silvery light of the moon any more but the warm golden flames of her husband’s power. She smiled at him and turned to place the candle on the ground, to start the shape of the crest. She closed her eyes over the candle, to take a moment to reflect, then she raised her face to the moon and inclined her head in reverence. Standing, she moved back to Fugaku’s side, he nodded and flames started to light up the glade.

Tradition held that those closest to you lit the candle, usually direct family husbands and wives, siblings, parents. Those orphaned and alone had friends do it. Itachi stepped over to Shisui, who held up his candle to present it. The light burst out of Itachi’s mouth, Sasuke stared with pride and some envy, longing for the day he could do the same. Shisui placed his candle carefully and returned to Sasuke’s side. He and Itachi kneeled and Itachi held of his candle infront of Sasuke. He looked confused for a moment before Shisui spoke. “I’ll help you until you can do this yourself ‘cuz ‘Tachi here wants you to be the one to do this.”

Sasuke beamed at his brother, elated that he was Itachi’s closest person, he honestly thought it was Shisui since he was older and he took his brother’s attention away from him. Itachi gave him a smile warmer than the flames that had glided past Sasuke’s head. Shisui had formed the seals while holding Sasuke’s hands in his and gently blew the flames from his position over Sasuke’s shoulder.

Itachi placed his candle and turned to his brother who’s focus was on their parents. Mikoto was kneeling to place another flame. As the matriarch of the clan, Mikoto was responsible for lighting a candle for each clan member that they lost in the year. Fugaku kneeling behind her with a protective arm around her, not touching but just grazing her shirt. He should have been looking at the flame, but he was looking at his wife, still as radiant to him as the day they met. Itachi could see the love plain as day. His father caught his eye and he would swear he saw an extra glow upon Fugaku’s cheeks.

Chuckling to himself, he turned to his brother again, who was practically vibrating in excitement for his brother’s attention. He smoothly ran through the signs, and taking a quick breath, he let out a thin line of flame, the control a testament to his mastery, even at a young age. Sasuke, who had been focusing so hard on Itachi’s hands, trying to memorize how he did it, grinned brighter than the flame after it was lit.

In the glow Itachi thought about activating his Sharingan to capture the moment. Shisui, who’s curls shined in the light and who’s eyes held all the warmth of the flames around him. Sasuke’s cheeks, still round with baby fat, were squishing his eyes almost closed with the smile on his face. Itachi could feel the presence of his mother and father behind him, he could feel their happiness. He remembered when he was little, his father kneeling behind him, cupping his hands around his own to hold the candle. His mother before them lighting the flame, her long eyelashes touching her cheeks before they swept up and her eyes caught his, the flames painting them as red as the Sharingan.

Blinking when Shisui nudged him he watched Sasuke taking slow and halting steps towards the nearly finished crest of flames. Sasuke knelt as slow as possible, knees bending centimeter by centimeter till he was on the ground. When he placed his flame he let out a gusty sigh, almost enough to blow out his candle. Clapping his hands to his mouth, he turned wide eyes to his brother and Shisui who were trying (Itachi) and failing (Shisui) to hold in their laughter. Sasuke hastily went through his reverence before running back to Itachi’s side, slightly behind him and peeking out at the crest.

When the last flame was placed Fugaku stood and started saying the ancient prayers for the deceased. Itachi stayed at Sasuke’s level since Sasuke was still hanging onto his shirt. He could feel Sasuke fading from tiredness after a few minutes so he nudged Sasuke before making subtle motions towards the dumpling table, as if he was going to make a break for it.. Sasuke giggled and an uncle cleared his throat quietly nearby, glaring. Sasuke’s shoulders fell under the scrutiny but Itachi’s returning glare and warm hand in his made him feel better.

Once the prayers had finished, Itachi presented his back to Sasuke so he could climb on. Sasuke wrapped his arms around Itachi’s neck as he moved at a quicker pace than his usual towards the dumplings. As son of the head and a once in a generation prodigy,he had certain privileges to get to the front of the line quicker than most, and if Sasuke was holding several dumplings for him as Itachi held his own, no one said anything. The brothers retreated with Shisui to a nearby tree, to lean on and share the food they grabbed. Meaning Sasuke handed Itachi his dumplings and rested his head on his shoulder. Sasuke promptly started dozing, surrounded by the love and light of his family.

Sasuke opened his eyes. The Uchiha hideout where he had his fateful battle with Itachi was cold in the autumn. The moon shone over head through the destroyed roof. The candles before him had almost burned out in their lotus shaped holders. He was now more than strong enough to light all the flames himself in one go. Arranging the crest with one hand was what took the most time. One candle was laid for each Uchiha who passed in the massacre and one for Shisui and one at the end for Itachi, all of them long gone but the memories fresh in his mind.

The candles would burn out soon, the moon would wax and wane, and time would keep moving on. But Sasuke would always be surrounded by the love of his family.

#itachi #itachi uchiha #naruto #uchiha itachi #uchiha brothers #uchiha clan #official art #uchiha #fugaku uchiha #mikoto uchiha #shisui uchiha #shisui #sasuke #sasuke uchiha #uchiha sasuke #my fic

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