So, in todays Fit stream its confirmed:
Fit knows Cellbit ate Pacs leg
Fit has been storing his player data and screenchots in his prosthetic arm (yes, the prosthetic arm IS canon)
Pac is officially considered Ramón’s other dad in the eyes of the Federation, so cookies are worth 1 point instead of .75
Same with him and Richas!
Today is a good day
719 notes
·
View notes
☆ you sow; & thus you shall reap what you are owed
{☆} characters tsaritsa
{☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader
{☆} warnings blood, violence
{☆} word count 0.8k
You are dying.
Gold melts into the dirt, bleeds into the very earth that you'd molded by your own hands – a familiarity you do not understand the source of – you know it to be true, yet you do not remember it as Teyvat does. It weeps, in turn, for the way you bleed upon it, the way your lungs strain for breath.
It is fury and sorrow and fear and hatred so raw that your mind buckles.
You will die.
"A dying godling and its judge, it's jury – it's executioners," The voice is hollow and cold, sweeps across your broken body like the first chill of winter, "Archons who saw themselves Gods, now brought to heel by their own hubris."
A cold hand upon your cheek, the brush of a thumb across your lip, the gentle caress of cold across your skin. You know her – you don't remember, you shouldn't recognize her but you do – and she knows you. The cold beckons and you follow, let her kindness settle in the hollow space of your chest. You want to speak, to cry and scream and rage, let the world burn around you in a fit of flames so hot even she cannot contain it – but she silences you, quiets the anger seeping into your blood, quiets Teyvat itself.
"Do not speak, little godling. Guide my hand," She is cold; her hands are not gentle, yet it is bliss compared to the callous, cruel hands that have shattered you. She is cruel and cold and brutal but she is love in the way she kisses the crown of your head. She is love in the way she is the bulwark between you and the world that has scorned you – she is fury in the way she brings them to their knees. "And I shall enact judgement most divine."
They will pray for forgiveness, and they shall find themselves wanting.
"It wasn't our fault!" They cry, but you cannot recognize the voice – it breaks and cracks like glass. "They were too human. How were we meant to know? We– we thought they were.."
Silence.
You watch your judge – the executioner, the blade that shall carve their sins into the very marrow of Teyvat, stand above you like death. As cold as winter and just as brutal. Your temple has been painted in the gold of your divine blood, and she shall complete the masterpiece with their own. The Archons shall become the grandest art in the world – this temple the canvas, their blood the paint and their bodies the palette. The cold that cuts sinew cradles you – it sings to you, whispers sweetly in your ear and carves bone from body in the same breath. The cold presses it's lips to your wrist and it cradles a heart within it's palm – judges them and finds them guilty.
It is her spear that rests between their ribs, her sword that dissects and her dagger that carves – the cold devours.
In the breadth of this divine sanctuary, the Archons dwindle. They become the pieces of a divine work of art, they bleed and bend and break upon her hands. She shakes the heavens and carves mortality into the bones of the divine – your word is Law, and you weave their deaths into the roots of Teyvat itself.
They shall know of their grand folly in every moment henceforth and longer still and they shall weep.
And as the curtain falls, as the world crumbles beneath fist and blade, she cradles your face between hands too cold – as gentle as a shard of ice between your ribs, as brutal as the kiss of gentle snowfall. The world buckles at the loss of six, but she alone does not allow it to break – you will have to mend the wounds of the world when you are well, but today you weep and Teyvat weeps with you.
And alone, the cold remains.
Stone has eroded, the wind has ceased, the flames have been extinguished, the storm has been silenced, the forests have gone quiet and the seas go still.
But the cold remains, bathed in gold.
It wraps you in thick furs, cradles you against the winter storm that brews beneath a veneer of composure. It brings you home – lets the world settle into a stillness and silence that inspires only dread and still she presses a kiss to your brow.
It is cold, but there has never been something so warm.
Where hands have broken you, she drapes you in furs, wipes away the thick gold that clings to your skin. She pieces you back together where you have been shattered, reshapes you where you have been bent – makes of you something new. Not a god and not a mortal but something wedged between them.
But you are yourself.
And you are where you belong.
They shall put you back together and you shall know only the worship worthy of the divine. They shall carve this world into your image, tear out and burn away the rot that festers.
All you need to do is say the word and they shall be your tools to make this world your own.
One word and those who wronged you shall burn, too.
Just one word. That's all it takes, and they shall take away your pain.
160 notes
·
View notes
attempted earth c multilungal meeting
JOHN: okay, everybody. our first meeting has officially started!
JOHN: i know english, spanish, french, german, some latin, and have a 3 year streak on duolingo! jake, what languages do you know?
JAKE: Christian latin, modern latin, ancient latin, ancient greek, most european runes, a decent amount of southern american tribal languages…
JOHN: okay, uh. any languages that are alive?
JAKE: Oh yes and the romance languages! How could i forget?
JOHN: awesome, so two of us know spanish! dave, ¿también hablas español?
DAVE: uh
DAVE: no sabo
JOHN: pfft, okay then. davepeta, do you know any languages that aren’t a part of your prototyping?
DAVEPETA: B33 < well yeah
DAVEPETA: B33 < kinda rude to suggest otherwise
JOHN: my bad, my bad. what languages do you know?
DAVEPETA: B33 < i taught myself dog to impress jade
JOHN: …uh huh.
DIRK: Can I introduce myself?
JOHN: you taught yourself to watch anime without the subtitles.
DIRK: And?
103 notes
·
View notes
truly wonder what sasuke thinks abt obito smtimes ... like he got to see every single one of his personalities. first he meets him as a weird little freak who just stands by and watches as he obliterates his terrorist co-worker. then he tells him that no, he is madara. later the real madara shows up but sasuke doesnt question this at any point? nowhere does he ask, wait, that guy there, is that the same guy who used to wear the mask? what do u mean the guy next to him is the actual madara?? whomst the fuck is the mask guy then?? like. sasuke truly does win the idgaf war here. doesnt care abt all this in the slightest. asdsfsgdfs
139 notes
·
View notes