#siriex

[salemlinnet]

i prompted siri to draw their characters Aaliyah and Capplan and then i was like, what, i’ve never drawn them before.  i don’t remember the last time i drew something for @letalisotium, if ever.  they’ve drawn a ton of stuff for me.

and it’s right near new years, when i like to give out oc gifts, perfect timing.

this is from @letalisotium‘s project Significant Others, which is my favourite

[seina91]

ahhh sorry I should've mentioned that it was a slightly-edited drawn version of that

I love your art and I'm excited to see your comic! (If it happens- comics are so exhausting so I totally get if you don't.)

Thank you very much. Your art is also so nice! Now that I’m more lucid it’s nice catching the details I missed like how on the cover Sigma is on the same cliff as where Asclepius died and etc.

I’m hoping my Sigma comic will be finished by the end of this year, though I don’t think it will… I greatly underestimated how difficult/time-consuming it is to make a comic, so it’s pretty amazing yours was finished so fast with such great quality.

[joshnekuu]

Did someone say cute Gilkidu headcanons, because on the way to fight Humbaba in the mountains they started sleeping all cuddled up for warmth and it became kinda a habit. Also because it's one of the few ways to prevent Enkidu from rolling around in their sleep and kicking Gilgamesh off the bed.

YES GOOD THANK U FOR PROVIDING IN MY TIME OF NEED. That is really cute and I accept this headcanon ;u; I already like the idea of Enkidu tossing and turning a lot while sleeping, but cuddles as the solution is perfect.

[fate-secret-servant]

Gift for Siriex

A/N: I’m less familiar with Strange Fake than I’d like to be, but I hope this turned out OK. Merry Christmas!

Enkidu sings.

He sings, and the earth sings with him. Streams tear over rocks in a vain attempt to burble loudly enough to match his mighty cry. Stones shake from their moorings, and yet his voice is deeper even than the voice of the rocks themselves. Birds strain their throats, singing louder than they thought possible, anything to contribute to the strangely melodic cacophony.

Gilgamesh hears the song, and he remembers.

Remembers their first fight, remembers Enkidu shifting his form into sword and axe and spear, one moment human, the next beast, then tool and finally back to his approximation of human. How the lord of Ur had had for the first time in his life thrown open the Gate of Babylon to its fullest width, flinging treasure after treasure from within at the first man he has ever known who could call himself Gilgamesh’s worthy opponent.

How after the battle was done no conversation had needed having, no terms of victory or defeat or surrender needed discussed. The golden king and the mud-doll were friends (or…?) their affection (love…?) forged and tempered in the heat of combat. Inseparable without needing to verbally affirm this truth, sharing food wine hunt adventure (bed) in the days when the Earth was wild and men still bowed at the knee to Gilgamesh the Golden.

There are none alive anymore who would kneel to the king. This Gilgamesh is worlds removed from a priest with an easily corruptible soul, and the master this fate has dealt him is respectful but not reverent, with her own gods and no need to name him among them.

He has no power except what the Throne allows him to retain, his city is gone and his legacy is dusty books and classes on low-level World History and high-level Literature. There would be little to bind Gilgamesh to this world and this war, little to keep him amused and diverted….except.

Except for the mud-doll, called by chance to the same time and the same place. Some power higher than himself has given golden Archer and earth-singing Lancer back the brightest moment of their golden lives, when they named each other friend comrade (lover) equal with weapons and fists.

The situation is nowhere near a mirror of the first. The golden city has crumbled into dust, and this town is slow and sleepy with little to recommend it. There is nothing of Ur in Snowfield. This time, also, their battle is observed – Tine in the trees, silent as a shadow and so still that even her Servant can barely sense her, the nameless wolf at Enkidu’s side, keeping itself to itself and watching, always watching.

Enkidu’s song rises to a crescendo, and Gilgamesh responds with a wordless war yell, the first language the two men ever learned to speak to each other. They emerge on opposite sides of a clearing, the midday sun breaking over the Golden King’s head, increasing his natural radiance to a level beyond the tolerance of human eyes. In the sun, even the mud at Enkidu’s feet seems to sparkle. Perhaps sleepy Snowfield briefly inherits some of Ur’s lost glimmer. Neither Archer nor Lancer notices – they have eyes only for their friend (love) opponent.

There is no signal, not even a knowing look between them to acknowledge that the battle has commenced. They move as one, Enkidu leaping forward, the earth itself seeming to propel him into a graceful arc. His king thrusts forth the Gate, sending a volley of spears. Verdant-haired Lancer dodges each one, as golden Archer had known he would.

Somehow, even as they fight, Enkidu still finds breath for his song, and the trees reach out to the gilded king, eager to bind and tear and ensnare. The curling limbs are met with the swords of ancients, each a Phantasm in their own right, combating binding with rending, ensnarement with severance.

Bound to Earth and the War and his master’s mana, Enkidu cannot manipulate his clay-form as freely or swiftly as he once could. But his control over the skill has not weakened, and he appears to Gilgamesh as a bird and a great axe and a pouncing, snarling lion. The King has a weapon in his arsenal to match every situation, and he meets each attack with a feral, eager smile.

Perhaps his watching Master shudders despite herself. He is too far gone, too lost in the fight to be attuned to her reactions. Perhaps other Masters and other Servants feel the earth shake, perhaps the clash and clang of ancient weaponry reaches magically-sharpened ears. Perhaps Berserker laughs and Flatt shivers, perhaps Assassin speaks prayers against the end days while Caster spills an inkwell in his eagerness to write it all down. Perhaps the unaware citizens of Snowfield experience nothing, or perhaps they feel something strange on the breeze, notice that the birds and the brooks are louder than they are wont to be.

Or perhaps none of these things happen at all. It would not matter to Archer and Lancer – for them, there is only the fight, no more, no less until it has reached its end.

And when that end is reached there is blood, blood on both sides, and flattened bushes and broken trees. There is Enkidu’s serene smile and Gilgamesh’s harsh, ragged, utterly contented breathing. There are thoughts in each mind (and emotions in each heart) that have been simply and easily communicated to the other without a single verbal exchange.

And there is no victor. For when the man crafted to be a weapon for the gods clashes with the man who keeps gods’ weapons in his hoard, how can such simple concepts as winning or losing come into it at all? This was a conversation, a dance, a coupling, it is many things but what it is not is a contest to determine a victor.

The Master of Archer looks on in confusion. (Perhaps the nameless Wolf shares her confusion; he gives no indication.) This battle has done nothing to advance the Holy Grail War, no tipping of the balance in favor of either side occurred. Unable to understand the many things that transpired on that battlefield, she cannot see any purpose that the clash has served.

Sated, content, the legends depart the battlefield without exchanging a single word aloud. What need is there? What needed to be said has been said.

Lancer’s Master walks silently in his wake. Archer’s waits to ensure that no other Masters come to inspect the battlefield before slipping off as silently as she had arrived. For a while, Enkidu’s song can still be heard twining through the trees, softer now, almost peaceful. Then that, too fades away and only the silence of the forest remains.

[fate-secret-servant]

Here’s a lovely Emiya Family for @thirdmagic! 

[fate-secret-servant]

Siriex Wishlist 2015

Name: Siri URL: http://siriex.tumblr.com Type of SS participation: Art Favourite Characters:  Lancer - Enkidu (All versions) Gilgamesh (All versions) Avenger (Fate/Hollow Ataraxia) Berserker - Asterios (Fate/Grand Order) Favourite Ships: Gilgamesh and Enkidu (Either romantic or platonic) FGO Asterios and FGO Euryale (Either romantic or platonic) Avenger and Bazett (Platonic interactions) FSF Flatt and FSF Jack the Ripper (Platonic interactions) Other: Please no NSFW! (Well- gore is fine!) Example: Art Do you want your Secret Servant to be holiday themed: Either Character/NOTP preferences: Nothing in particular. Anything Else: Thank you for organizing this!

[ememoria]

siriex replied to your post “capitainegrayson replied to your post “top 5 sports anime characters...”

I read it through twice. For Agito.

That’s what I mean, though. It seems like you have to pick a character to make yourself see the series through with more so then in any other series I’ve read. It was much easier to focus on Kazu then all the different “twists” that just got too complex for me to follow. But then again, maybe if I really made myself read it I’d get it better now that it’s completed. But I have a ton of other new series I’m far more invested in that doesn’t make me uncomfortable with hundreds of panty shots.

[kakkollumination]

siriex replied to your post “when you’ve turned the knobs on your dressform to the maximum but the...”

FUCKING HELL I WOULD TRADE WITH YOU MINE'S TOO BIG

DRESSFORM TRADE-OFF