#void nuns
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When the Silent Goddess asks to borrow your body for a while, it’s a good idea to let her.
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Tried making a void nun version of Pae after the Call of the Void commission from @thetenen turned out so well.
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📱 Check out my Instagram for more: @ecthxs
☕ Want to buy me a coffee? Check out my prints
#ecthxs#art edit#left to right:#top:#james sant#the novice#leopold carl müller#head of a nun#bottom:#john singer sargent#cashmere#frederic leighton#vestal#aesthetics#dark art#paintings#space#void-ified#flames#fire#ethereal#occult#eldritch
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endless alba 43/∞
#alba baptista#warrior nun#avatrice#ava silva#laughing at the few people still trying to tear her down#as she continues to live her best life#with millions of fans cheering her on#keep shouting into the void#nobody's listening
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it's a never-ending loop please help me
#Me when dead boy detectives warrior nun good omens loki heartstopper season 2#not art#bee screams into the void#idk how to tag this#meme#<kinda?
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poi jan poi jan
#tezcatlipoca#daybit sem void#fgo#fgo art#mine#i managed to draw because i am sick at home YIPPEE!!!#it took every drop of my willpower not to just put him in the nun outfit#but i already drew that so you'll have me slightly more normal this time around
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Well… I’ve been working on a project that I’m loving. I’ve never done this before, but my wife (actually gf, we just accepted we are wives) has helped me and encouraged me to share. So… here it is:
The Spider-Man/Ghost-Spider AU that nobody asked for, but I wanted!!
Ava Silva was just trying to get through college, then she died... or, she thinks she did. She's not entirely sure. What she does know is that now she has abilities she can't explain and a responsibility to help the city she loves. She can do that... right?
I’ve gotten 4 Chapters out so far. I hope you all enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated. If even just one person love it… then that’s more than enough for me.
#lgbtq#warrior nun#lgbtqa#warrior nun au#fanfic#warrior nun fanfiction#avatrice#spider-Ava#Spider-man/warrior nun AU#ava silva#ava x beatrice#beatrice#sister camila#sister lilith#to fill the void while we wait to know more about the movies
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Rating: T
Categories: F/F, Gen
Relationship: Jillian Salvius/Mother Superion (implied)
Character: Mother Superion (Warrior Nun)
Additional Tags: Introspection
"She makes her way back to Jillian, battered and bleeding, but there is no consolation in store for her. A circular cross awaits and she must nail herself to it now, for the glory of God."
An exploration of what's going on with Suzanne when she stays behind "to protect the ark" and the consequences thereof.
#warrior nun#mother superion#doctor superion#warrior nun fanfiction#the challenge closed so i can post this at ao3 and link to it from here :)#this is... kind of prose poetry-ish? i guess? so it comes and goes with rhythm and sounds and whatnot#i am physically unable to keep things simple even for fortnightly challenges it seems lol#anyway. hope you enjoy it. i'm a bit torn on it myself but the friends who read it liked it and i hope other readers will as well!#narratives and similar#at least ao3 isn't hiding the word count on this one lol the last one still shows word count as void and tbh i find it hilarious
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ARE YOU TELLING ME THESE WERE IMPROV!!!
#screaming into the tumblr void#lol#ninja warrior nun#warrior nun spoilers#warrior nun netflix#warrior nun#warrior nun season 2#i want more of it#with a season three NETFLIX!!
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a light, or a blessing, or a bruise ch. 2
the dishonored au
rated: M
words: 4.7k
read on AO3
...
Lilith remembers, still, how Mary fell down onto her knees and ran the tips of her fingers through dark hair, scraped back so severely off of that fine-boned face, loosened only in their most private moments.
Lilith could not help but be privy to more of them than most. To Shannon pulling the Royal Protector in through the open window of her tower chambers, the drapes fluttering shut around them as the now-dead Empress took the warm face of her best soldier into her hands, kissing her firmly and fervently.
She watched them wake up together before even the servants had stirred, and Shannon passing her palms over the scars on Mary’s back, asking her to repeat the story of how she got them again and again in the predawn dark.
‘this one? protecting you, highness’
‘working on a fishing boat when i was eight. the hook went almost entirely through my arm.’
‘that one? protecting you.’
When the Empire was very slightly younger, Lilith used to watch the sun shine in the afternoons on Dunwall Tower. In those days, Mary would wake up with the bakers and go running on the ramparts in the moonlight until sweat soaked through her undershirt and drenched it against her back, and Lilith, knowing all and seeing all, would watch Shannon drift to her bedroom window just as the sun came up over the waves on the horizon.
In her chemise with her hair untouched by her battery of servants she would stand, wrists crossed and dangling out the window, to watch from up on high as a lone figure stretched out the soreness in her legs. She watched Mary as she wiped the sweat from the nape of her neck, drinking from a canteen propped up on the parapet wall.
Only a piece of Lilith stood watching with her, and even that piece she split between the sight of Mary on the ramparts and an inspection of Shannon’s chambers. They were high-ceilinged and airy, too large to be dominated by the four-poster bed or the shield bearing the Kaldwin coat of arms.
Lilith drifted through it, touching but not touching Shannon’s fencing steels in their sheathes next to the desk where she kept her paperwork and map of the Empire, spread out and held down with river stones.
The stones were not really remarkable, but they were precious all the same. Lilith had watched Mary pluck them out of the riverbed herself, fingers dipping into the grey-green water to unearth things that eels and hagfish had touched with their bodies. A bit of the ground to bring up the tower, so that the strange metallic stink of the Wrenhaven River might remind Shannon of all that her influence touches.
Lilith has watched love unfold out of humans many times. She has seen it in all of its shades – the kind of love that ends with a body pushed over the railing of Kaldwin’s Bridge. A body in a sack that once held grain, face smothered under the canvas, ankles weighted down with stones. The person inside full of plague.
She has seen the wretched kind of love. A girl from the Bottle Street gang tangling with a boy from the Dead Eels, both of them strung up by their respective factions, swinging high from the bobbing lantern lines that crisscross over the streets.
A thousand iterations of the same sad story, and yet Lilith could never stop looking.
contd.
#dishonored au#warrior nun#lilith villaumbrosia#sister lilith#shotgun mary#shannon masters#this is the 'knight and princess' shanmary chapter lads#my fic#wn fic#casper writes#the void is so weird & i loooove it
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I got this blog back outta the dephts like 3 days ago and made it into my warrior nun place. Getting over 1000 notes in those 3 days proves me how crazy we all are for this show. Like... what
#No because how#also thank you guys#ik its not that much but for me its like wow#i screamed at the void and yall screamed back#warrior nun#avatrice#ava and beatrice#ava/beatrice#ava x beatrice#ava silva#wn#sister beatrice
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Warrior Nun (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva
Characters: Ava Silva, Sister Beatrice (Warrior Nun)
Additional Tags: Emo Bea, They're so in love that it's painful, happy ending I promise
Summary:
It takes a lot of strength to go back to Switzerland. This is where she found her home, where she built her home. Where she learned the holiness that is Ava Silva. She is eight months into her travels. She’s visited each of the locations that Ava had postcards of. Even added a few of her own.
But it feels right to head back to Switzerland now. As much as she doesn’t want to believe it, as much as her heart protests it, her brain knows that after this much time Ava likely isn’t going to return to her. So Beatrice decides that if she cannot have Ava she will go to the last place that she did.
or
Beatrice finds Ava's letter
#warrior nun#ava silva x sister beatrice#avatrice#ava silva#sister beatrice#warrior nun fanfic#avatrice fanfic#listen i scream into the void daily thinking about them#i am not well#save warrior nun#i am not a normal amount of obssessed#its fine
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screaming and biting because nuns have to be catholic
#screams into the void#life would be so much easier as a nun. i wish god were the most important person in my life
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Sister Rebecca was a severe woman with piercing eyes set in a hollowed face. Her mouth was carved into a permanent line, oftentimes broken only by an elegant silver cigarette holder. Now in the sunlight her eyes were concealed behind spectacles, two flashing moons of icy light. Her cowl and horn-like wimple pulled her further from humanity, forming her into a large immovable pillar of stark black and white. For several years she had been the private tutor of the children living on the Ministry grounds, not to mention his brother Secondo’s domineering mother.
My Fic List | Current Project "Violence & Gentleness"
Hey Tumblr, ya like long random OC Profiles? Here ya go, it's my blog I do what I want UwU
Sister Rebecca (1920-1998)
Sister Rebecca was the daughter of a rising star politician who had a long standing relationship with the Satanic Church of the Void. The family was involved somewhat with illicit mob activity during the 20s and 30s.
Rebecca was a consummate scholar. Her favorite subject was languages and at the time of her death she was fluent in six different languages (Spanish, Italian, German, Greek, Latin and Portuguese). As a teen and young woman she was a socialite who actually used her influence to support public school education. She was a severe woman but valued her formal education and teachers. She went to school for education herself, with big plans to be a Superintendent some day. In 1944 There was a massive bust of her family’s business dealings and tax evasion by the FBI. At the last second the Satanic Church of the Void offered to hide her and her mother to avoid arrest. Unfortunately her father and his goons were sent to Alcatraz for their crimes after much public shaming and fanfare. Rebecca enjoyed her stay at the Ministry so much she formally joined the Church as a Sister of Sin in 1945.
She met Nihil when he joined up with the church in 1950. Her role in the church was outreach due to her extensive knowledge of languages and travel, and so she helped assemble tours for a few Papa Emeritus figures, working as their tour manager. She was effective and pretty ruthless. She got to know Nihil when he was a roadie and backup musician during one of those tours. She saw the potential in him as a future Papa Emeritus and groomed him to stardom.
She developed a physical relationship with Nihil in 1958, prompting the heartbroken Sister Nance to leave the Ministry for good. In 1960 Mother Imperator died of old age. Rebecca was the obvious choice for successor, but in a dark twist of fate she found she was pregnant and therefore could not safely undergo the ritual without killing the child. Her pregnancy with Secondo was a total surprise, assuming she was too old at 41.
She took to motherhood well, enjoying raising her son to be a perfect gentleman and representative of the Church, unlike his father. She discovered Secondo to be a brilliant child who was a piano prodigy and worked to build her son’s career as a performer. She had wanted Secondo to be Papa Emeritus since the boy was seven.
Rebecca nearly killed Nihil when Terzo showed up on the Ministry front steps in 1969, his unknown lovechild from Italy. She was forced to take care of him since he only spoke Italian and she was fluent. She taught Terzo English and raised him somewhat but she was alway cold to him.
She retired from touring once she fell pregnant with Nihil’s child, becoming a schoolteacher for the ministry children. She was a school teacher up until her death in 1998.
#ghost scenes from the void#original sibling of sin#this is what i do with my free time i write elaborate profiles of scary nuns#I'll post more if you want just let me know#violence and gentleness#secondo's mom is the most terrifying stage mom#not to mention a cold stepmother (terzo)
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Not my brother calling me to tell me to stop denying my vocation
Like uhhh just because I follow the rules of the Church and try my best to apply them to my daily life doesn't mean I should automatically join a convent. I'm probably taking this the complete wrong way but I feel like when ppl tell me I should be a nun it's like they're saying no man would ever want to marry me because I'm so "strict" aka my love for Christ makes me unlovable to any human man
#idk im probably crazy?? ive been discerning my whole life and tbh i dont think I'm meant to be a nun!!!#ppl have told me im supposed to be a nun since i was 11#ive always taken it the wrong way!!#okay sorry im screaming into the void again#personal
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a light, or a blessing, or a bruise
the Dishonored au
chapter 1: rot? or wildflowers?
Rating: M
words: 4k
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The first time the Outsider appears in her dreams, Camila remembers nothing but her eyes.
Perhaps her hands, too, though it is not possible that the Voice of the Void touched her. That she would want to, or that she would dare.
She is there, the first time, on the night they take her arm.
There is chaos in the Dust District, as Camila treads along gutter pipes and slips past darkened windows.
It is the quiet kind; the panic of a people who are used to closing their mouths or choking on the dust in the air. Camila races above it all, touching the edge of each rooftop before vaulting across, catching the far ledge with her fingers or the crook of her elbow, fetching softly up against the fraying bricks. She climbs the scaffolds hand-over-hand, disturbing discarded tools in her haste.
They are building some great contraption over the district - metal fanning high overhead as ungraceful as a snake.
Beneath it the district itself is a jumble of close-knit streets that jut up out of the sea. It reminds Camila of nothing so much as a whale carcass when it is almost stripped of meat; the great curve of its rib bones, the stiff knobs of its spine, the scent of pain past endurance. The echo of a song.
It is a place all stripped of flesh, bare and gaunt against the endless moan of wind whipping through the narrow streets, folding past the drapes that the residents put against their windows to keep the dust out. They cannot afford glass, but the cloth is a poor substitute, and so there is dust in the water and in their beds and in every word of every sentence they speak.
The Grand Guard are everywhere; an oil-slick of blue coats and bared steel.
Camila kills four of them before she gets close to Stilton’s Manor, cupped as it is in the heart of the district, and by the time she sees the great vault door, propped open and surrounded by a fan-shape of red-coated men and women, she has blood up to her elbows and dust stuck in between her teeth.
She drops from the fifth storey of a tenement building, slipping down vent-shafts, cutting her fingers on drainpipes, slapping onto the pavement with the easy grace of a talent honed over two decades.
Her knee twinges after the final five-metre drop, but it’s the knee that Daud - Suzanne - kicked almost clean through when she and her Whalers caught up to Camila, after she betrayed them all to the Overseers. It was the culmination of all her ambitions. It was the worst day of her life.
She stayed and watched as the Overseers poured into the Flooded District, as they died on the bridge-crossing, as they played their soft, strange music, which made the bones inside of Camila’s body twitch and twinge, as though longing to make themselves into instruments.
She was glad when they caught her. Glad when Suzanne pressed her blade up against her carotid, angling to slash the artery and the windpipe and leave her head hanging on by threads and sinew and the stem of her spine. Death was her inheritance, one way or another, and it made sense to her that, having been raised as a blade, she would die on the end of one.
But then the Knife of Dunwall let her go. Let her walk free, and it was worse than all the death sentences in the world.
Her knee is a reminder. A foolish one, now, when she is about to make another mistake.
Her pistol is slippery in her grip as Camila steps lightly along the alley, keeping to the deep shadows where rats flit underneath her feet. She should be afraid of them, but they are mostly the white ones, whose bones glow faintly blue when they are split open. They like her, she thinks. One day she will pay for thinking so, probably, but if there are enough of them in that alley for a swarm they do not seem inclined towards it.
Maybe there’s too little meat on me, Camila thinks. It is true enough.
She stops in the hook of shadow that the building’s end throws down into the alley, folding her body into the angle of it. Suzanne taught her this - the geometry of concealment, knowing where and how and why a shadow will fall. Lessons laid out on little sheets of flimsy all strewn over the desk in that broken hotel, in the corner of the room with blueprints tacked onto the walls, whalebone relics singing from inside a locked chest, the bonecharms on Suzanne’s bandoleer whispering shyly to Camila as she worked on the puzzles.
Suzanne sketched them out for her in her haphazard hand. And it made Camila feel queer and clever to be doing mathematical things like translation, talking about vectors and rays and the visible spectrum of light.
That was the first place she learned of the Void, and the woman who lives there all alone.
The Outsider, the name soft-spoken, though all the other Whalers - save the skeleton crew needed to make their hideout safe - were away on their missions. Selling murder for coins, putting dead-drops along Suzanne’s likely routes, seeking rumours and hidden ways and all the secrets of Dunwall. There was a tilt to her hooded head, a puzzle on her mouth, as Suzanne leaned on the desk and said, I think she lets me see beyond the visible spectrum. Into ultraviolet where the wavelengths are short, and perhaps to infrared.
I don’t know what those are.
A pause and a decision before Suzanne said, It’s nothing.
So Camila did her sums and shut her mouth, but she remembers the lessons. She knows how to hide her body inside of shadows even if the Outsider has never spoken to her.
continue on Ao3
#warrior nun#wn fic#myfic#camilith#sister camila#sister lilith#dishonoured au#dishonored au#uuuuhhhh lilith is an eldritch being who haunts the empty Void full of scattered whalesong?#camila is an assassin#she gets shadow powers#this is a mess but i LOVE dishonored and i decided why not make it camilith?#for kei who is my incredibly smart and wonderful bestie#lilcam#lilith is the saddest girl in the world sorry#cam is... covered in blood. often. she's my little guy
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Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: Warrior Nun (TV)
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva
Characters: Ava Silva, Sister Beatrice (Warrior Nun), Sister Lilith (Warrior Nun), Sister Camila (Warrior Nun), Yasmine Amunet, Mother Superion (Warrior Nun), Father Vincent (Warrior Nun), Sister Dora (Warrior Nun), Jillian Salvius
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, welcome to s3 my version, where something woke the halo and now it's sentient?, to fill the void until we get the actual s3
Summary:
Ava returns from Reya's realm, however, the memories of her time there are hazy and painful. The only thing she can recall is what she needs to prevent Earth from becoming ground zero for a holy war it won't be able to withstand. She thinks she has to do it alone, to prevent those she loves from getting hurt.
Beatrice can't understand why Ava didn't tell them—didn't tell her—she came back. But she's not going to let Ava go it alone.
or
my take on season three
#warrior nun#warrior nun fic#avatrice fic#ava silva#beatrice#fanfic#i need to fill the s3 void until we get the real one
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