#sanson fgo

[xviicprc]

[shadow-schemer]

hhh i saw dragon-Sanson (from Fate/Grand Order: mortallis stella) ...... fuck why do i have the constitution of a Victorian maid why is this happening to meeee 😩😩😩😩

(i was trawling around in pixiv thats how i found out)

[goldenteaset]

If I may return to being Sanson Brained for a moment, I really can't overstate how much My Taste he is. His looks, his voice, his history, the different sides to him...as soon as I got him from my first FP tutorial summon back in July 2017 (oh god), it was love at first sight! My other Fate/ series faves are pretty easy to explain in terms of aesthetics or history etc., and describing them makes me feel vaguely like a historian giving a lecture, but Sanson? He somehow gives me a hundred emotions and melts me down into my basest instincts, it's fantastic.

The last event I played in FGO was the one with the whole Werewolf game subplot for a reason. One, it and Salem just felt like the best place for my Chaldea to end, and two, Sanson's berserk Orleans side came out again and I think I pulled something from how feral he made me. Even just him casually asking about who could be trustworthy or not had me mentally flailing and squeeing. "Yes, distrust Ritsuka! Imagine her putting her life into your steady hands! Treat her gently~" etc. etc. etc.

Which is hilarious when looked at objectively, because Sanson's pretty nondescript compared to Saber or Diarmuid, right? But I think the simplicity of his design and voice is part of the appeal for me. He's gothic and tragic, yes, but his expressions are so small and subtle that they wind up speaking volumes. His blushing face is a rare occurrence indeed, but that makes it even more special!

(Never ever over "Ma petite ange", either, it felt like I got bombarded with rose petals and it wasn't even directed at me XD;)

[daily-fgo]

daily fgo day 106: robin + sanson

i really really love sanson's festive outfit... still haven't decided which ces to get yet

[dailysalieri]

Post 19: 死は明日への希望なり Ever since a friend showed me chapters from the FGO: turas realta manga that had Berserker Sanson in them, I’ve been wanting to draw him ^^;;

So I finally doodled Berserker Sanson!!!

[novelelitist]

Somewhat-successor to 2018 and yesterday. Probably needs a part IV. TW for mental health, mentions of suicide. I go months without posting jack shit, you can deal with a little bit of Sanson Self-Indulgence.

Charles-Henri Sanson on Death III

Charles-Henri Sanson did not have this opportunity in life, nor in the times he was summoned to America as a Heroic Spirit. He thinks Salem is charming without the cosmic horror. The regular horror is more than satisfactory.

The ocean is beautiful at night, though the light pollution from nearby Boston leaves much to be desired. Still, to look out on an endless black sea like this is humbling.

Master takes a step too far, Sanson takes Master's hand. He yanks them back so they won't take a long walk off a short dock into the Atlantic.

"This isn't an appropriate place to dive in," he says. "There's a sign right over there."

Master bitches a bit before reassuring him. "I wasn't going to do anything. Maybe jump. Nothing bad."

"I don't see how that makes a difference."

Master slumps into him. "Jumping means I'm less likely to crack my head open, unfortunately."

He props up Master in his arms like they're an inflatable tube person. "If you're going to break the rules and crack your head open, you could at least wait until I'm not around to see it."

"Ah, yes. The age-old adage: 'if you don't have evidence I disobeyed the sign, you can't give me shit for disobeying the sign.'"

Sanson uses Master's hand to bop their forehead. "Truthfully, that's the least of my concerns."

"Hey, if I get lucky a boat will run me over and I won't have to put any effort into drowning. You know how hard it is to drown?" Master asks.

Sanson notes their playful tone and tries to keep it light. He fails. "Exceedingly easy, considering that 'drinking water going down the wrong pipe' is as much drowning as any open water drowning is."

Master gives Sanson's shoulders a lazy squeeze and an even lazier shake without leaving their sloth-flop posture. "I knoooow, so whyyyyy can't I doooo it?"

"Because you're terrible at reverse-engineering death, I suppose?" he suggests.

"Seriously. You'd think a passably-intelligent person would either a) succeed at their attempts to die or b) fail at existing hard enough to succeed at not existing."

Sanson rolls his eyes. They land on the reflection of lamplight in Master's hair. He gets distracted by the shimmering silver highlights.

He thinks on how he and Master both have blue eyes, and how theirs are closer to steel than ice. There is no twinkle in theirs, nor in their smile. He remembers how he once thought they'd never get along, and how eager he was to fulfill his duties and disappear. Now he can't bring himself to leave them.

He rubs the back of their head just the way they like. "Perhaps you were too powerful, so you were cursed to fail at the thing you most craved to achieve."

"You mean like a nerf?"

"I mean a nerf."

"Shit balance team, if that's what they thought would keep me out of the meta. Like my entire existence isn't the problem. Remove me from the game.”

“The answer is still ‘no.’”

Master digs their fingers into Sanson’s back, clutching at the fabric of his well-ironed shirt. He leans back to look at them, but they refuse to show their face.

“That isn’t going to change my answer,” he says.

“...Please?” they ask meekly into his shoulder.

Sanson doesn’t answer. 

“I don’t want to live like this anymore,” they say. “I don’t want to live at all knowing that this is what it feels like.”

Sanson reaches to hold them, but they shrug him off and shove him away. He stares at his hand. It stings. 

“Every time I have, like, the tiniest bit of hope it gets crushed. Any faith I have in others is jaded in nature. I don’t trust anybody. I don’t even think I like anybody. I don’t want my whole life to be like this, but I’m going to have to be in professional care forever and I’ll always need medications and therapy and mental health shit and I can’t get away from my family or myself and I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired. Other people kill my will to live, and even if I try to explain how they’re negatively affecting me it’s not like it gets anywhere because they don’t understand or they don’t give a shit. Friends don’t get it, and family doesn’t care, and I can’t. I fucking can’t. I don’t want to live like this.”

Sanson opens his mouth to respond, but thinks better of it. 

“I don’t think I’ve done anything that terrible, but the amount of guilt and negativity I live with outweighs any moments I have in which I don’t feel like shit. No amount of positive interactions will make the negativity go away. I don’t have the resources to get out of the living situation I’m in, and I don’t want to live like this. I don’t want things to be like this.”

Master hates listening to the opinions of the inexperienced and uneducated. He doesn’t feel what they do. It’s best not to pretend he does.

They fidget with the hems of their sleeves until their hands are hidden away. They pull and yank and scratch and tug. Their fingers twitch as they pick at their nails and claw at their knuckles. Before Sanson can stop them, they step further away from him. There are tears in their eyes. They sniff.

“I want so many fucking things and I can’t have any of them and I don’t want to live like this. I’m so viscerally envious of others, even those I shouldn’t be, of the tiniest fucking things they get that I don’t because I don’t get anything because I don’t have anything. I don’t want anything. I don’t. I just don’t.”

Those feelings, Sanson thinks, are things he understands. From his own perspective and the perspectives of those whose lives he’s ended, Master’s frustrations make perfect sense. 

Sanson and Master read the Prisma Illya manga together (to the shame of both parties). Sanson remembers how much Master liked seeing Illya say something to the effect of, ‘I want to die’ means ‘I want to live’ in a ‘manga for lolicons.’ That line struck a cord with him, too, not that he’d ever admit it. 

It’s a pitiful feeling--one of desperation and self-loathing, of fear and uncertainty. To those who crave death, that afterlife or lack thereof is a guarantee that they do not have in life. To believe that there is nothing waiting is to believe in a peaceful rest. To believe that there is a peaceful rest is to believe that better things can be had than what there already is.

This line of thinking conflicts with both his own philosophies and Master’s. So he believes Magical Girl Prisma Illya when she says that those words mean I want to live. 

For everything Master hates and doesn’t want, the converse is equally true: they want the acknowledgement, presence, and presents that others receive that they do not. They want to feel safe and validated, like the people around them live in the same reality they do. They’ve never had those things, and Sanson is well aware that Master doesn’t know what those things would look like for themselves. 

Doodles? Stories? Gifts? Hugs? Memes? Quiet? Reassurance? Validation? Criticism? Help? 

They would probably say they want the sweet embrace of death. As one does.

So he opens up the adjacent line of questioning. “What do you want to want?”

Master sniffles, snuffing like a dumb puppy with a cold. They pull up their hood to shield themselves from the intense gaze of the moon and streetlights.

They shrug, toss their hands up, then smack themselves in the face. “Damned if I know.”

Sanson finds this charming, in Master’s not-at-all-charming way. 

He pulls Master into a hug and pats their pathetic back. Rest assured, they’ll come back to this conversation later when less snot is present.

[xviicprc]

NEVER FORGET YOUR FIRST GRAILED SERVANT 

[nissangloria]