#architect of our demise

[republicansaredomesticterrorists]

The architect of our demise. Also he gave Rupert Murdoch citizenship so he could start Fox News, a Republican propaganda outlet.

[republicansaretheproblem]

Reagan was actually the architect of our demise.

[hinumay]

HELLOOOOOO

I was commissioned to draw these love birds in an AU fanfic setting set in the age of arcanum by @blorbologist !!!! Aka umwelt!!!

The fic is!!

Architect of our Demise

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51394138

☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️

!!!!!!!!! Weeeeeee

[foedhrass]

“Leave this tower now and when the Men of Middle-earth fall, I swear to you, every soul in the seen or unseen world will know that it was you who was the architect of their demise!”

I absolutely love Annatar in the Rings of Power season 2. His manipulative gaslighting is just perfect.

During our The_Eldar_Cosplay cosplay vacation I had the chance to wear Annatar and I got a couple of awesome photos out of it. 🤩 

I definitely want to cosplay him again.

Cosplay & edit: Foedhrass

Photo: @goldiepond

[calirph]

𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐙𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. all these sentences come from amazon's the rings of power, some from season one and season two. pleas echange names, locations and pronouns as you see fit.

A burden shared may be halved or doubled, depending on the heart that receives it.

Save your tears for our enemies, for they do not know what they have begun.

The way of the faithful is to commit to pay the price, even when the cost is not known.

I have said it already. A hundred times over, in every way but words.

Let us say that all is as you fear, and this enemy is out there somewhere, lying in wait. Do you truly believe seeking him out will satisfy you?

If you are wrong, will you lead more Elves to die in far-off lands? To convince yourself you have done enough, how many more statues would you add to this path? 

Only in the Blessed Realm can that which is broken in you be healed. Go there. 

 Can we turn back now? There's 110 things out here that could kill us.

You know the rules. We're not supposed to be out this far.

These Orcs were meddling with the powers of the Unseen World. Some dark sorcery of old. But what was their purpose?

I've told you. Countless times. Elves have forests to protect. Dwarves, their mines. Men, their fields of grain. Even trees have to worry about the soil beneath their roots.

Are you just going to stand there, breathing like an Orc?

It is said the wine of victory is sweetest for those in whose bitter trials it has fermented.

He is about to embark on a new project. One of singular importance. And we've decided that you will be working with him.

I am grateful you have not known evil as I have. But you have not seen what I have seen.

Lindon receives you with grace.

I am not some courtier to be placated by idle flattery. I demand to speak with the King directly.

 You have made that plain. So I will be equally plain. 

Only twice in known history has a pairing between Elves and humans even been attempted. And on each occasion, it ended in tragedy. It ended in death.

The people of Hordern were known for having been especially strong in their loyalty to Morgoth.

She has passed beyond my sight. Galadriel was so certain her search should continue.

It is hard to see what is right when friendship and duty are mingled.

First the big people, now the stars. Eyes open when they should be sleeping. Almost like... like they're watching for something.

There Can Be No Trust Between Hammer And Rock.

Everyone, Each Of Us, Needs To Decide Who We Shall Be.

Beauty Has Great Power To Heal The Soul.

Hope Is Never Mere, Even When It Is Meager.

There Is No Secret Worth Concealing With Deception.

He worms his way inside your mind and the rest of him slithers in.

Once the deceiver obtains a being’s trust he gains the ability to sculpt their very thoughts.

Every soul in the seen or unseen world will know that it was you who was the architect of their demise.

At this moment…. the great tale of our age is being written.

In choosing to wear those rings you have all become his collaborators.

To try and cheat death might lead to an even greater catastrophe.

 Every soul in Middle-earth is in peril. Will you abandon them to their doom?

Promise me, Elrond, you will not stop until he is destroyed.

When the darkness falls there are always some who rise forth and shine.

Ours was no chance meeting. Not fate. Nor destiny. Ours was the work of something greater.

Choose not the path of fear, but that of faith.

One thing we can do better than any creature in all Middle-earth… We stay true to each other, with our hearts even bigger than our feet.

You have fought long enough, Galadriel. Put up your sword.

Find The Light, And The Shadow Will Not Find You.

Light endures and is mightier than strength. For in its presence, all darkness must flee.

I was in your place once, in the eldest of the Elder Days. Thirteen of us were chosen to be blessed of Morgoth’s hand, with the promise of power. A new birth. 

Because rather than rest in glory, I chose to seek out the very enemy responsible for your suffering.

When all other senses sleep, the eye of hope is first to awaken, last to shut.

Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them?

Give me the nine.

[pyrrhiccomedy]

Okay okay wait hold on, because this is just so consistently fascinating: how do you petition an Hour that’s “dead”, and wtf are the Great Leviathan and the First Ant?

For the dead Hours:

The short answer is that the names of the Hours hold power, even after they die. Hours are so titanically powerful, and important to the architecture of the universe, that the empty space they leave behind still resonates.

The in depth answer adds some sauce to that for each dead Hour individually. Like: the Stone Beggar can still be petitioned because he's one of the Hours of Bone, and the Hour of the Turning Wheel, so even though being dead presents a significant obstacle to him, it is not one which should be impossible to overcome. The universe holds its breath for his return, and into that lacuna, you can whisper your petition.

The Ecdysiast is undead. He was one of the Hours of Door & Key, and he made the black gate in Mithra through which failed aspirants can pass in order to become vampires before they succumb to monstrosity. When the Madderblade came to kill him, he fled, mortally wounded, through that gate, where he then died. The Madderblade is not an Hour of Door & Key, so she was unable to pursue him and finish him off. So what remains of the Ecdysiast is a raving, undead, starving vampire-god, who sings endlessly into the blackness of Mithra in order to entice curious demons and travelers through the Spider Door, where they become instantly enslaved to his will. You can petition that dangerous and wretched remnant, if for some reason you wish to.

The Wakefire was the Vigilant Hour, and the Hour of Lawgivers & Watchmen. While no trace of him remains as an active agent in the universe, petitioning him still works because all of the laws that he created are still in effect. One imagines the Master Inspector planned for the event of his own demise, and ensured that the architecture of justice wouldn't collapse in his absence. ACAB but it was probably a good thing to have a power capable of enforcing law upon the Calendar itself.

The Flayed Widow was the Hour of Remorse, the Bitter Hour, & the Genius of Desolation. Petitioning her still works because no other Hour has claimed her offices. She presided over suffering, and veneration of her was always more likely to end in suicide than enlightenment. And yet suffering has spiritual power, and in that can be found an echo of the dying scream of the Flayed Widow.

The Hanged Rider was another Hour of Bone, which gives her some lassitude when it comes the finality of death; and in life, she cut out her own beating heart and sent it to her daughter the Madderblade, who still has it in her custody. That's enough to allow petitions to her to still be faintly heard. (Bastian is riding her horse around these days.)

Great Leviathan is the only thing that we're actually sure predated the arrival of the Glory. He swam in the endless primordial darkness before the arrival of the first light, and has seen every shadow fall. He understands, probably better than any thinking thing, the balance of light and darkness, and what is lost when there is light, and what is found when the light goes out.

The First Ant is fun, Bastian just really figured out what the First Ant is, and spent his second petition on him. Hephaestion, Ptah, Prometheus and Kagu-tsuchi are all manifestations of his power. The First Ant is the patron of makers, builders, architects, and all mankind. Language is his particular gift to us, and the ability of the human mind to become infected by and pass along memetic information. Though the darkness is ever greater than the candle, that doesn't matter, so long as you can make more candles. Bastian believes he is the Tree of Knowledge itself, who betrayed God to share its fruit with us. He was imprisoned in Labyrinthos by the Kithmark, but we can still hear his drumbeat at the back of our brains: build, build, build, build, build.

[blorbologist]

Architects of our Demise | Chapter 15

[ Age of Arcanum AU | Perc'ahlia | M | Updates every ~2 weeks, except a very early update today ]

[ Vax is the Warden of Ravens, Vex is his Champion, Percival is the creator of aeormatons, and FCG is vibing ]

[ Chapter 15: Pool Rules at the Raven's Crest:

- No running - No food or drink - Do not contaminate the blood of the divine with your own dirty mortal blood - There is no lifeguard, drowning is the point - No pets allowed ]

It’s evening before anything but the birds show signs of life.

Pike and Percival jump to attention as the doors open with the sound of breaking bones. Between them pads Vex’ahlia, returning her feathers to her hair. Her hair soaked in blood. 

Most of her is slathered in blood, actually. So abundant it’s coagulating in sticky layers on her shoulders. Sings a delicate drip-drip hymn on the obsidian stairs. Even the air recoils with the metallic scent of it. All less gruesome than the expression on her face. Like she wants to kill something - or someone.

When he places his coat over her shoulders, Vex’ahlia looks at him fondly and says, “I took most of my clothes off to avoid getting anything covered in blood, darling.” 

Ah. Yes - there’s her tunic and leggings, thrown over Trinket’s back. Whatever else is left on her is probably -

The dying light is suddenly stifling in its intensity; Percival feels flushed. Well, he’s pleased with his instinct to offer his coat; it’s seen worse than this. He can always launder it. And he’d hate for her to walk through Vasselheim half- yes.

“They don’t have towels in there?” Pike asks, taking the steps two at a time; Vex’ahlia hasn’t slowed or stopped, briskly walking towards the skyship port. The hairs at Percival’s nape prickle.

She laughs. “No, they don’t. It’s so stupid!”

Percival clears his throat. Says, deliberately lightly: “So - how has your brother been?”

Vex’ahlia brings the cloak closed around her front. “Busy, apparently.” Catching the looks from Pike and Percival, she throws them back with “We’ll talk at the ship,” and picks up the pace.

--

That pace turns into a jog when they hear screaming coming from two figures on the Grey Huntress: Grog is brandishing his axe with a feral grimace while FCG crouches beneath him. (Crouch is admittedly generous, what with the inflexible metal chassis.)

“Shithead’s back!” he wails before anyone can ask. “He ruined my new coat!” There is indeed a white splatter marring the rich blue wool. Percival winces in sympathy before remembering that his own coat is currently covered in blood. 

He also remembers -

Pike spins on herself before spotting the bird perched on a mast. “Are you sure it’s the same one?” she asks. “I mean - there were a lot of crows at the Reaper Prince’s temple.”

“Those,” says Percival, “were ravens.”

[From the beginning] [Keep reading on AO3!]

[autumnslance]

Once a civilization has fulfilled the basic requirements for survival, it will inevitably seek to eliminate all forms of negativity and achieve perfection. And therein lies its folly…and its downfall. For perfection is an unattainable ideal. 'Tis the paradox of the immaculate carrot. Yet civilizations since time immemorial have deemed the pursuit of perfection as “progress.” They pay no heed to the costs incurred in their futile quest, and all too often become the architects of their own demise, their dreams forever unfulfilled. What, then, is the alternative? The answer lies in knowing that our existence can never be perfect. To be content with what we have and make the most of it. When life gives you lemons, make lemon muffins!

-Cookingway, Final Fantasy XIV: Endwalker, "Agriculture Shock."

[atopvisenyashill]

Distraction Ask (sorry this is ever so slightly about those blond people)

I just wanted to say, as someone who would consider herself an HOTD fan first and foremost, I absolutely love your page. All your critiques of the show are in good faith (I've agreed occasionally) and you just have very good takes generally.

How do you think Cersei goes out in the books? Who will take her down?

firstly, thank you so much!!! and yes, i try to come at hotd from the frame of "how do you adapt this to tell a good story" and not "how do you adapt this so my faves look the best" which is like the main issue with the way people talk about hotd lol.

i debate this SO MUCH. okay so here is my thought process basically-

will the valonqar be as literal as everyone assumes?

who the fuck is the younger more beautiful queen?

what is the ending that would drive cersei the most crazy?

the thing about both the ymbq and the valonqar is that it just makes no goddamn sense if it isn't an answer that is a) obvious to cersei and b) relevant to cersei. all those theories about sandor or jojen or euron or whoever are missing the point. the prophecy is not about finding a loophole that will kill her, it is about how cersei's paranoia and fear brings about the exact ending she has been railing against since she heard maggy's prophecy.

so it's like. will the valonqar literally choke her? or metaphorically? our other prophecies speak in metaphor "a woman who was a fish" "a blue eyed king who cast no shadow" these are obvious but they're not literal. catelyn isn't literally a fish. cast no shadow is just as much about melisandre as it is about the shadowbbaby. etc etc. but "choke the life from you" is always taken as the valonqar will literally choke her to death. "oh well jaime dreams of killing her with his golden hand" and cersei also compares him to the stranger and the others, that doesn't literally make him made out of ice! this prophecy she gets is just soooo much more literal - she will have three blond children, they will be crowned, they will die, someone younger and hotter will usurp her, and then the valonqar will choke her. it's just like. it's crazy literal. so it's always one a struggle with.

and TIMELINE. WHOMST is even going to be kicking. WHEN would cersei be usurped. by young griff and joncon? the thing about that is it's like......what does it do emotionally for joncon to set off the pots of wildfire and send cersei fleeing to casterly rock? is arianne the ymbq here? is aegon lmao? so i wonder if she even comes across that group - i think it's more likely that before they can take the capital, dany unseats them both in one fell swoop. but that leaves like a lot of time. granted, we need both tommen and myrcella to die so who knows.

ALSO ALSO i think she's more likely to die in casterly rock than king's landing. one thing i feel much more confident about is that whatever unseats her from KL isn't going to kill her, merely drive her into the westerlands to casterly rock - AND THEN it's Cersei's final stand.

anyways so i guess my best guesses here are that i want cersei to be her own downfall. i want cersei to be the architect of her own demise. i want her to make a mistake and be the reason why she is taken down. who does it matters much less to me than cersei going out in flames of her own making! i think both tyrion and jaime are likely to play a role in this, i think it's not unlikely that some combination of brienne/sansa/arianne/dany are going to be involved as well (margaery is not the ymbq. why? because cersei thinks she is!). i think she's going to lose kl, then flee to casterly rock (maybe with the last of her kids, not sure), attempt a siege there, and get completely fucked, probably by a combination of jaime & tyrion fucking her over. i think it's most likely to be either dany or sansa that truly puts the nail in her coffin, but i don't want to discount brienne or arianne here, just for thematic & geographical reasons (they're closer than the north or fucking meereen). i remain unconvinced that the valonqar will literally choke her though i think positing that it's anyone other than jaime is silly. i also think the idea that cersei being The Lannister In Casterly Rock as it finally is breached and taken is too fucking good, and the idea that Tyrion might lann the clever it out from under her to give to one of his own descendants (SAILOR'S WIFE IS TYSHA TRUTHER FOREVER) is a really satisfying ending for her.

[vendettaspathfanfic]

Chapter Five

(First one with the cover!!)

(Chapter Index)

(Previous)

(Next)

The sudden demise of a prominent official and the mysterious vanishing of another were events that could not stay undetected for long. Reinforcements were swiftly deployed to the location to scrutinize the aftermath of a violent explosion, an array of gunfire, and the resonating shockwaves of sonic booms.

Although nobody had any idea who initiated the bombing, it was initially assumed Miles Prower and Boomer Walrus of the Suppression Squad had neutralized the elusive blue blur. Yet, upon arrival, they were met with a chilling scene - the lifeless body of Boomer, his existence snuffed out by a fatal gunshot wound on the lower right side of his neck. The grim tableau was punctuated by the discovery of four police-issue bullet casings and three bullets lodged in the nearby concrete wall.

This evidence led to an almost inescapable conclusion - the young blue blur who had managed to seize a gun from the law enforcement ranks was the likely perpetrator of this crime.

After power and communications were swiftly restored, the area remained under stringent lockdown. Law enforcement personnel diligently scanned the vicinity for any trace of Miles, the young suspect, or any individuals exhibiting suspicious behavior. Their search unearthed only the shattered remnants of Miles' array of handheld devices and a faint set of small, bloody shoeprints.

Atop a hill, overlooking the city, the massive Castle Acorn loomed like a fortress of steel and glass. Its impressive structure was marked by glowing neon spires that pierced the evening sky, a true testament to technological power. Inside the castle's walls, Alicia Acorn sat in the throne room, surrounded by modern design and bathed in the gentle glow of neon lights. It was there that she received an urgent phone call from the chief of police, bearing this news of her comrades' fate and the circumstances surrounding it.

The newly crowned queen gripped her throne, taking in a breath in an attempt to retain composure. “Please bring Boomer’s remains to the castle as soon as you are able. And do not cease in your search for Miles.”

“Yes, your majesty.” The chief dutifully responded. “We’re able to have him sent back right away.”

The loss of Boomer was bad enough by itself. His collaboration with Miles in the realm of engineering and invention had been a cornerstone of the extraordinary technological revolution sweeping through their world. More than just an innovator, Boomer was also one of the most formidable combatants within their small team.

The impact of Miles' sudden disappearance was even more catastrophic. While Alicia held the official title of queen in their domain, it was Miles who was the true architect of power behind the throne. His strategic wit was the keystone in their coup that toppled the despised Scourge, leading to the former king's incarceration in Zone Jail at the hands of Sonic. Without his guiding hand, Alicia's governance faced the threat of unraveling.

Patch, interjected with furrowed brows and a skeptical glance from his intact eye, "I was under the impression that the Shapeshifters had departed our planet, madame."

Alicia gestured assertively as she responded, "Many have, not her.” She turned to pace in another direction, her eyes shifting in continuous thought as she spoke. "I had already considered extending an invitation for her to join us. Now, there's no luxury of time to ponder further. She represents our immediate recourse." With her arms now dropping to her sides, her hands clenched into determined fists, Alicia’s eyes blazed with resolve. "As for locating Miles, rest assured we will find him," she proclaimed with a steely tone. "Even if our search means reducing our world to ashes."

Little did Miles’ comrades know that he was unconscious in the back of a postal van.

In a fortunate turn of events, telecommunications were swiftly restored in the vicinity of the recent bombing. Inhabitants of this affluent area had the financial means to ensure rapid resumption of services, and as a result, utility crews worked diligently to rectify the outage in under 20 minutes. The expeditious recovery allowed the Destructix to hastily reconvene and make their escape from the site of the explosion, slipping away before law enforcement could fully divert their attention from managing the immediate effects of the devastation.

In a calculated move to avoid drawing attention, Fiona opted for a less direct route than the rest of the gang as they drove back to their hideout. She was at the wheel of the high-performance sports car they had stolen earlier. In the passenger seat, Scourge was visibly annoyed, burdened with the task of holding the most wanted child in all of Moebius, who was making her discontent loudly known. Due to earlier incidents, he deemed it best that the Destructix didn’t attempt to handle her.

"I wanna fuckin' drive!" Toxic's high-pitched, petulant demand sliced through the interior of the car, her voice a discordant note that caused Scourge's ears to involuntarily flatten against his head in vexation.

Scourge's patience frayed, and with a harsh tone, he retorted, "And if you don't shut up, I'll want to knock all your baby teeth out." This threat prompted Toxic to issue a low, defiant growl, and with exaggerated pique, she crossed her arms and turned her gaze out the window, embodying the essence of childish rebellion.

Despite the animosity that he held towards his sister, recent developments were too significant to overlook. For starters, there was the fact that one of their rivals had been shot dead, which had subsequently resulted in the abduction of another. To top it all off, Scourge found himself in possession of an exceptionally sleek sports car. Admittedly, the vehicle had a shattered window—a souvenir from the circumstances of its acquisition—but he was confident that with a little bodywork and a fresh coat of paint, it would serve as a magnificent means of transportation. The cause of these victories were his sister's reckless escapade that had her tangling with the long arm of the law.

Her actions, albeit inadvertent, had proven to be of considerable advantage to them.

"Ay, Toxic… We need to talk about some things," Scourge reluctantly initiated the conversation, hesitant to give her credit for her aid.

"I thought you said shut up?" Toxic retorted, her tone laced with bitterness as she tightly crossed her arms over her chest.

Scourge let out an exasperated roll of his eyes, followed by a scoff, "Well, you can talk now, smartass."

"Can I drive?" Toxic inquired, a spark of curiosity lighting up her gaze as she considered the prospect.

"Not a chance, brat," Scourge dismissed the idea instantly. "Anyways, that's not what I'm trying to talk about. Look, you did some crazy-ass stuff today, and I was this close," he said, holding his thumb and forefinger millimeters apart, "to blowing your brains out. You could've landed us all back in the slammer," he added, his voice tinged with contempt. He paused to rub his face, as if the physical action could somehow help him process the day's events, "But, lucky for you, your antics actually played out in our favor. So, not only am I sparing your life, but I'm also offering you another shot to roll with our crew. We're talking about a legit life here. Away from that hellhole of an orphanage, living it up in the castle where everything we could ever want is just a snap away. But this comes with conditions: you do everything we say, you don't run off, you don't attack us, you don't mess with our stuff without permission, and you put an end to those tantrums of yours. Otherwise, you're nothing but fodder for the rats. Are we clear, kid?"

Toxic seemed to mull over his words, her initially rigid posture gradually easing, her ear twitching as if weighing each word. Scourge watched her with a raised eyebrow, his head tilted in anticipation of her response.

"Um… Does this mean you can help me?" Toxic eventually asked, her voice small as she twiddled a strand of her unkempt hair, avoiding eye contact.

Scourge blinked, taken aback. She was asking for help? It dawned on him that he had never really considered her needing anything beyond the apparent satisfaction she derived from antagonizing him and his cohorts.

"Uh… Depends," Scourge replied, his expression still betraying his confusion, "What do you need, Toxic?"

Her response was timid, her words imbued with a childlike simplicity, "My friends didn't come back..." Toxic admitted sheepishly, her gaze shifting away to the car window, evading the weight of their stares.

"Your friends?" Fiona chimed in, perplexed at the idea of her ever having friends.

"Hold on a second," Scourge interjected with a snap of his fingers, a lightbulb going off in his head, "Is that why you had four lanterns?"

Toxic nodded slowly, her long fingernail, encrusted with dirt, scraping against the door's upper panel as she gazed blankly into the distance.

"Uh..." Scourge exhaled, a notable tension in his breath as he grappled with the realization of her situation and scratched at the back of his head, pondering the implication of her words, "we… might have a way to find them." Scourge's voice was tentative, betraying a hint of reluctance before he directed his gaze to her, asking with a newfound sense of purpose, "Where were they last seen? What happened?"

She began to recount the events in a halting, childlike manner, "Um… ok so Revine told me not to do the slide because it was broken but it didn’t look broken and then I did it, but it um… broked. Then my mouth cut hurt really bad and I had a hot um… face." Toxic tapped her forehead, indicating a fever, her speech hampered by the limits of her youthful lexicon, "I didn't feel good and Revine went to go get um… the medicine… But she didn't come back. Ren and Selene were scared, and I felt badder, but..." She trailed off, her voice dropping to almost a whisper as she lowered her head, her gaze fixated on Scourge's shoes in the dim light of the car while she fidgeted with her hair, "Revine always said don't look for her if she doesn't come back, but they still went looking and they didn't come back either."

A heavy silence settled over the interior of the car as the gravity of Toxic's predicament sunk in. For the first time, Scourge felt a genuine pang of sympathy for his sister, his blue eyes softening as they made contact with her green ones, reflecting a vulnerability he hadn't noticed before. He was acutely aware that finding her friends would be no simple feat. In the best-case scenario, they had been apprehended and would be listed in police records, which could be accessed with ease if they managed to secure positions of influence. But if they weren't in custody, they could be kidnapped, dead, or lost among the countless homeless children wandering the neon-drenched labyrinth of the city's streets.

"Ok..." Scourge finally spoke, his voice lower, the earlier edge of command now replaced with a more contemplative tone as he averted his eyes from Toxic and stared ahead at the road, "Just stick to the rules, do what we say, and we'll help you look for them, understood?"

Toxic's nod was firm, and with newfound conviction, she affirmed, "Ok."

"You know, Toxic," Fiona interjected, taking control of the steering wheel as she navigated the vehicle, her eyes scanning the road ahead, "shooting seems to be in your blood. We could train you to handle a gun like a real sharpshooter. But remember, you only use a gun when we say so, got it?"

"Ok," Toxic responded, a glimmer of enthusiasm detectable in her voice as she contemplated the offer, "Can we get some food?"

"Yeah," Scourge agreed, pointing at Fiona with a sudden inspiration, "we should swing by that pizza joint we hit up earlier. We could grab a box and some beers to toast our little victory tonight."

"Amen to that," Fiona laughed.

"Wait, I want beer too," Toxic suddenly piped up, her request prompting a burst of laughter from Scourge and Fiona.

"Have you ever even tasted beer?" Scourge queried through his chuckles.

"No. I saw some people drinking it when we went out to find food. Revine said I'm too young for it, but are you saying I can have some?" Toxic asked, her thumbs fidgeting in anticipation.

Scourge was about to respond when Fiona interjected with a firm, "No!"

"Come on, she's earned it! It'd just be a taste," Scourge argued, still laughing at the thought of their youngest member joining in the revelry.

"Scourge, she's just a kid. Who knows what it might do to her? Plus, she’d definitely be a mean drunk," Fiona retorted, shaking her head at Scourge's lack of foresight.

The idea of a belligerent, inebriated child hurling insults at hardened criminals was too amusing for Scourge to resist. "Wait—Shit!" he gasped, struggling to stifle his laughter, "Alright, alright, just one little sip," he conceded, still chuckling.

"Just a splash, barely a taste," Fiona relented, joining in the mirth, "We're definitely going straight to hell for this."

As the laughter subsided, Scourge reassured Toxic, "We'll get you some soda too. Beer's an acquired taste, kid."

"What the hell does that mean?" Toxic asked, her brows knitting together in confusion.

"You'll find out," Scourge said, glancing out the window just in time to see they were pulling up to the pizzeria.

Through the grimy car window, they could see the restaurant's television broadcasting the news, ablaze with coverage of the aftermath of a recent bombing, and now featuring the murder of Boomer Walrus.

"Damn..." Scourge muttered to himself, "Fiona, you grab the pizza. Toxic, you're staying in the car with me."

Fiona nodded tersely, understanding the gravity of the situation, and exited the vehicle to collect their order.

"Why do we have to stay in the car?" Toxic inquired, her fingernail resuming its path along the car door's leather panel.

"Because you've landed yourself in a shitload of trouble. We can't risk some bounty hunter spotting you and trying to cash in," Scourge explained with a weary sigh, his mind flashing back to past encounters with relentless headhunters who’d do anything for a reward.

When Fiona returned, laden with an extra large box of pizza and bottles of beer, they wasted no time in driving back to the orphanage. Upon arrival, they rearranged some scattered chairs into a circle in one of the building's larger rooms. They set a single chair in the center to serve as a makeshift table for the pizza box, which was now the focal point surrounded by the soft glow of the four lanterns. The dim light from the lanterns cast eerie shadows on the walls as they settled into their seats, ready to celebrate the tumultuous day's end.

"Where's Miles, by the way?" Fiona inquired casually, reaching for a slice of pizza and a beer from the makeshift table.

"We tied him to a chair in an old freezer down in the basement," Predator answered, popping open his beer and taking an eager gulp. His face contorted in disgust as he quickly pulled the bottle away, "This tastes like..."

"Like piss and batteries," Lightning finished, grimacing after taking a swig of his own.

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Lightning-wing-sting?" Flying Frog teased with a jeering point, his laughter echoing in the room.

"Yeah, learned from the best—your mom," Lightning retorted with a smirk, eliciting a round of chuckles from the group.

"Hey! Watch it, pally!" Flying Frog shot back with mock offense, standing on his chair He then grinned widely, "Tell her I said thanks for dumping me when I was born," he joked before collapsing back into his chair amidst the group's laughter.

Scourge felt a gentle tap on his arm and looked down to see Toxic seeking his attention. "Can I have a beer now?" she asked with a hopeful look in her eyes.

"Hold up, everyone. Before we drink any more, I think we need to acknowledge our little wildcard here," Scourge declared, raising his bottle for attention despite the murmurs of disbelief from his gang. "If it weren't for her wild antics today, Boomer would still be alive and Miles wouldn't be in the freezer. So here's to Toxic," he proclaimed, nodding at Fiona who reluctantly opened a bottle for the youngster.

"Toxic," they echoed, albeit somewhat scattered, as they raised their bottles and took a drink. Toxic, in her innocence, tried to mimic the gesture but immediately spat out the beer, her face scrunching up in disgust, which sent another wave of laughter through the group.

"To be fair, this beer is pretty terrible," Simon admitted with the hint of a grin.

"We kicked ass guys, not win the lottery," Fiona added with a chuckle, handing over a bottle of orange soda to Toxic. "Here, try this instead, kid."

Grateful to rid her mouth of the bitter taste, Toxic eagerly guzzled the soda before hungrily diving into her slice of pizza.

The atmosphere within the dimly lit room was unusually relaxed and convivial as the evening progressed. The gang, typically bound by the commonality of their shared objectives and the threat of their enemies, found themselves unwinding in a rare display of camaraderie. It wasn't an occasion that required the profundity of deep, heart-to-heart discussions; rather, the air was filled with an undercurrent of joviality that was a welcome departure from their usual interactions.

Simon, Flying, Lightning, and Predator shared a history that spanned several years, their familiarity with one another evident in their effortless exchanges. For Scourge and Fiona, however, the dynamics were relatively new territory. Although past collaborations had occasionally thrown them together, it was only recently that they had committed to being full-time members of this gang. As such, their integration into the fold was still a work in progress, with trust and friendship being forged through shared experiences and battles.

Yet, as laughter filled the room and barriers began to dissolve, it seemed that the invisible walls that had separated them were crumbling. Even Toxic, the young girl who had been the object of their collective disdain earlier in the day, was now an integral part of the evening's festivities, her presence accepted, perhaps even appreciated, as they all found common ground in the simple pleasure of the moment.

As the night wore on, the effects of the alcohol became increasingly evident. Their inhibitions lowered, their speech slowed, and their movements took on a languid quality. Lightning, in particular, seemed to succumb to the introspective pull of inebriation. Holding an empty bottle with a loose grip, he lamented over a lost love with slurred words and a bitterness that could only be fueled by the sting of rejection. Bride of the Conquering Storm, the formidable leader of his former Raiju clan, had not only denied his affections but had also cast him out of said clan following his failure to display his worth in combat against her and Sonic.

Predator, observing Lightning's inebriated state, offered a dose of unsentimental advice. Hunched over in his chair, a bottle of his own hanging precariously from his fingers, he addressed Lightning with a weary sigh. "If she's such a bitch, forget her," he muttered.

"I c-“ Lightning's speech was abruptly cut off by a soft burp, his words trailing off. "I can’t. I wanted her more than anything, man… And then I get kicked out of my clan… Like what the fuck!?" His voice grew progressively louder, his words slurred as he spoke.

"Lightning, look around you," Predator grumbled, his grip tightening on the bottle as he gestured around them. "Sure, we’re in a dump of an orphanage, but no matter what, you’ve got us. Focus on that. What happened back then won’t happen again."

Lightning paused, attempting to process Predator’s words, but before he could, he was overcome by a wave of acute nausea, muttering a faint "fuck" before rushing out of the room to vomit.

Predator watched him go and then stared at the doorway through which he had fled for a moment or two. He shut his eyes and clenched his jaw, staring down at his feet in silence. After a heavy sigh, he placed the bottle on the floor, stood up, and slurred, "I’m gonna go to bed…" before storming away without another word, dragging his feet as he went.

"Looks like I’m getting some black coffee in the morning," Simon said, observing Flying Frog snoring in his chair with an empty beer bottle in his lap.

“Why?” Toxic asked, squishing her empty plastic soda bottle out of boredom.

"It helps when you get a hangover," Simon replied, his words slightly slurred from the alcohol.

"What’s a hangover?" Toxic asked, wiggling her feet aimlessly before putting the tip of the bottle in her mouth and gnawing on it. She leaned back against the wall, her curiosity piqued.

“It’s when you drink a lot of beer or other types of alcohol and the next morning you feel sick,” Simon explained, getting up to pick up the empty bottles scattered around the room, the faint aroma of alcohol lingering in the air.

“Why do people do that?” she pondered with a grimace, unable to fathom the appeal of drinking something so vile. She wrinkled her nose at the thought.

“For fun, I guess. Why do you ask so many questions?” Simon replied, taking her bottle and adding it to the trash he took to a nearby waste bin, the clinking of glass echoing in the quiet room.

“I dunno,” Toxic said with a shrug, her eyes following Simon as he moved around the room.

“Well,” Simon began with a stretch, “I’ll go to bed too. You should sleep too soon, you hear me?”

“I’m not tired,” Toxic protested, her gaze wandering around the room.

“Well, you will be soon. G’night, Toxic,” he said softly before leaving to go to bed, his steps fading into the distance.

Meanwhile, Scourge and Fiona were outside having one last cigarette before they went to bed, the night air cool against their skin.

“So…” Fiona exhaled, a cloud of smoke escaping her lips, “If we get Miles to talk, we get word on the castle’s security. Then… it’s almost straight shootin’ from there.”

“Hopefully,” Scourge added before inhaling deeply, the red ember of his cigarette glowing in the darkness, “but our plans have seemed to change a lot lately, so we gotta be prepared for anything.”

“We’re good at rolling with the punches though, ain’t we?” She said with a mischievous smirk as she held the cigarette between her fingers, turning her head to Scourge, nudging his side playfully with her elbow, the faint glow of the cigarette illuminating their faces in the dim light.

“True,” Scourge admitted, his arm enveloping Fiona’s waist as they stood bathed in the gentle glow of the moonlight filtering through the night sky. He gazed into her eyes, the silver beams reflecting in her irises, creating a mesmerizing effect.

“Nowhere I’d rather be…” Fiona said softly, her voice carrying a hint of longing, as she closed the gap between their lips, embracing a fusion of love and the bitter tang of nicotine.

They savored the moment for a couple of minutes, their connection deepened by the intoxicating allure of both the chemicals and each other’s presence. Although unspoken, they both knew they needed one another. In a world consumed by chaos, they were each other’s anchor, the one constant they could rely on. As their lips hesitantly drifted apart, they extinguished their cigarettes, reentered the building, and headed off to bed, their silhouettes fading into the darkness.

Toxic was the last one awake at this point. She rubbed her eyes as she got up from her chair and turned three of the lanterns off, preserving their power as Revine had taught her to do before taking one to guide her to her designated mattress. With a quiet click, she turned off the lantern and settled onto her bed, a glimmer of hope kindling within her for the first time in almost two weeks.

As Scourge had mentioned earlier, they had to be prepared for anything.

Dr. Stellaria Versipelle eagerly accepted the opportunity to join the Suppression Squad. After conducting a thorough examination of Boomer’s lifeless form, she extended an invitation to Queen Alicia and Patch to demonstrate something she claimed would be incredibly useful to them.

“What can she show us?” Patch asked Alicia as they approached the lab, his voice tinged with curiosity and uncertainty. “Clearly the child shot and killed him.”

“We won’t know until we get there, now will we?” Alicia tersely replied as they entered the lab, the sterile scent of antiseptic hitting their nostrils as they were greeted by the doctor, who had taken the form of a tall navy blue Moebian fox, her presence exuding an air of professionalism and intrigue.

“Thank you for making time out of your schedule to come see me,” the doctor spoke formally with a grin, her hands folding in front of her as she stood before them. “I’ll make this quick and worth your while.”

“Well, what do you have to say?” Alicia inquired, her eyes fixed on the shrouded form of Boomer, a sense of urgency palpable in her voice.

“Firstly,” the doctor began, her steps purposeful as she paced around Boomer’s still figure, “I’ve come to the conclusion he didn’t die instantly. He struggled for a moment, gagging on his own blood long enough for me to be able to show you why you’re here.” She turned to an assistant standing nearby, her expression expectant. “If you could bring my subject in? And please do be gentle with her, she can be sensitive.”

As her assistant followed orders, Patch’s eyes furrowed in confusion, his unease growing palpable in the tense atmosphere of the lab.

“Erm… Subject, Miss?” Patch asked apprehensively, his gaze shifting between the doctor and the assistant, uncertainty etched on his features.

"Doctor," Stellaria corrected him, her blood orange eyes locking onto Patch’s with an icy intensity that sent a chill running down his spine, eliciting a disquieting chuckle from her. The air in the room seemed to grow colder as her gaze held him in place. "And, yes. I found her and have been working with her since she was a child. You see, she was born with certain abilities that make her quite unique. This includes but isn’t limited to telekinetic powers, the ability to create out of thin air, and, most relevantly at the moment, clairvoyance. With the ever-increasing rise in technological and scientific advancement, her abilities have been enhanced tenfold, resulting in quite a remarkable specimen if I do say so myself. Oh, and do call her McKenna."

At that moment, accompanied by the aforementioned assistant, a teenage red fox with frizzy, somewhat wavy hair entered the room, her locks partially obscuring half of her face. She wore a plain white t-shirt and matching white pants, with socks that had grips on the bottom, her posture rigid and her expression blank and unflinching. The only indication of her being anything near lifelike was the subtle movement of her fingertips as she twiddled them in random, strange patterns, her presence casting an otherworldly aura in the room.

“I’ve taken the liberty of collecting a blood sample from Boomer,” Stellaria added, holding up a small vial of blood, the crimson liquid swirling within the glass under the harsh laboratory lights. “Just enough for her to show us what we need to know. As I’ve said, her clairvoyance is vital right now. When she tastes his blood, she can get somewhat of a profile of his energy, as well as be able to see things from his perspective. More importantly, the circumstances of his death. If you will, my dear?”

Saying nothing and retaining a blank, unflinching expression, McKenna took the vial that Dr. Versipelle handed her and removed the cap. Closing her eyes, she raised it to her lips and drank the blood sample, the action causing a flicker of repulsion to cross the faces of Alicia and Patch. For a moment, she was completely still, the bottle held to her lips, looking as though she was the subject of a paused movie frame.

When she let out a loud gasp, she startled all but Stellaria, her frame tensing as she gripped the lower right side of her neck, the place where Boomer was shot, her distress unmistakable as she seemed to struggle to breathe, the tension in the room thickening with each passing second. After a moment, her jaw squirmed, and she emitted a deep, guttural voice that bore a striking resemblance to Boomer's as she shut her eyes tightly. “That little bitch shot me!”

“Who did!?” Alicia interjected demandingly, her voice cutting through the tense silence, her eyes locked onto McKenna.

“The fucking kid! Who do you think!? She’s with him! We should have known!” McKenna groaned and gasped, her voice still laced with pain as she retained the same tone, clutching her neck tightly. When she opened her eyes, it was revealed her pupils were glowing red.

"Who’s ‘him’?” Alicia stood closer to her, her eyes narrowed as she knelt in front of McKenna. She clenched her fists in determination as she demanded to know the answer.

“OUR OLD KING, GENIUS!” McKenna roared before coughing violently and falling to the ground, writhing as she struggled to breathe and clutch her throat.

Dr. Versipelle, unfazed by the display that shocked Patch and Alicia, calmly pressed a button on her watch. In response, electrodes surged through McKenna’s body, causing her to jolt and become limp, panting as she tried to steady her breathing. Stellaria knelt down to the girl who lay helpless on the ground and helped her stand.

“You’re ok. It’s just energy. You haven’t been hurt, my dear,” Stellaria reassured McKenna, who whimpered as she reciprocated the hug she was pulled into.

“Mother…” McKenna whispered, her accent and voice now dramatically different as it became higher pitched and wheezy. Furthermore, the red light was once again absent from her eyes.

“Shhh… follow him back to your room for now and rest, my dear,” Stellaria requested gently, to which McKenna and her lab assistant obliged.

Dr. Versipelle’s demeanor returned to its typical formal state with a hint of cockiness. “In case you’re wondering, the electrodes help ground her back to reality.”

With Alicia and Patch in a state of horror, Patch, with his hand over his mouth, murmured, “Scourge…”

"He’s back!? How!? Fuck!” She roared ferociously, her voice laced with anger and disbelief. “he’s been behind everything. We’ll find him! When we do, we’ll ensure he NEVER sees the light of day again!”

Stellaria chuckled at the outburst, finding grim amusement in the situation. “Oh, that much is clear,” she spoke, her grin growing wider as she observed the raw determination in Alicia’s eyes. “I hope to work with you further, your majesty.”

[rjzimmerman]

This article tells me that either (a) the law clerks who worked for the US Supreme Court justices when they were developing their new case law about the Clean Air Act did a lousy job on researching Congressional intention or (b) the law clerks did their jobs but the justices (primarily Alito, Gorsuch, Roberts, Kavanaugh and Thomas) decided to ignore the clerk's work and memos. Most likely a combination of the two.

Excerpt from this story from Inside Climate News:

Among the many obstacles to enacting federal limits on climate pollution, none has been more daunting than the Supreme Court. That is where the Obama administration’s efforts to regulate power plant emissions met their demise and where the Biden administration’s attempts will no doubt land.

A forthcoming study seeks to inform how courts consider challenges to these regulations by establishing once and for all that the lawmakers who shaped the Clean Air Act in 1970 knew scientists considered carbon dioxide an air pollutant, and that these elected officials were intent on limiting its emissions.

The research, expected to be published next week in the journal Ecology Law Quarterly, delves deep into congressional archives to uncover what it calls a “wide-ranging and largely forgotten conversation between leading scientists, high-level administrators at federal agencies, members of Congress” and senior staff under Presidents Lyndon Johnson and Richard Nixon. That conversation detailed what had become the widely accepted science showing that carbon dioxide pollution from fossil fuels was accumulating in the atmosphere and would eventually warm the global climate.

The findings could have important implications in light of a legal doctrine the Supreme Court established when it struck down the Obama administration’s power plant rules, said Naomi Oreskes, a history of science professor at Harvard University and the study’s lead author. That so-called “major questions” doctrine asserted that when courts hear challenges to regulations with broad economic and political implications, they ought to consider lawmakers’ original intent and the broader context in which legislation was passed.

“The Supreme Court has implied that there’s no way that the Clean Air Act could really have been intended to apply to carbon dioxide because Congress just didn’t really know about this issue at that time,” Oreskes said. “We think that our evidence shows that that is false.”

The work began in 2013 after Oreskes arrived at Harvard, she said, when a call from a colleague prompted the question of what Congress knew about climate science in the 1960s as it was developing Clean Air Act legislation. She had already co-authored the book Merchants of Doubt, about the efforts of industry-funded scientists to cast doubt about the risks of tobacco and global warming, and was familiar with the work of scientists studying climate change in the 1950s. “What I didn’t know,” she said, “was how much they had communicated that, particularly to Congress.”

Oreskes hired a researcher to start looking and what they both found surprised her. The evidence they uncovered includes articles cataloged by the staff of the act’s chief architect, proceedings of scientific conferences attended by members of Congress and correspondence with constituents and scientific advisers to Johnson and Nixon. The material included documents pertaining not only to environmental champions but also other prominent members of Congress.

“These were people really at the center of power,” Oreskes said.

When Sen. Edmund Muskie, a Maine Democrat, introduced the Clean Air Act of 1970, he warned his colleagues that unchecked air pollution would continue to “threaten irreversible atmospheric and climatic changes.” The new research shows that his staff had collected reports establishing the science behind his statement. He and other senators had attended a 1966 conference featuring discussion of carbon dioxide as a pollutant. At that conference, Wisconsin Sen. Gaylord Nelson warned about carbon dioxide pollution from fossil fuel combustion, which he said “is believed to have drastic effects on climate.”

The paper also cites a 1969 letter to Sen. Henry “Scoop” Jackson of Washington from a constituent who had watched the poet Allen Ginsberg warning of melting polar ice caps and widespread global flooding on the Merv Griffin Show. The constituent was skeptical of the message, called Ginsberg “one of America’s premier kooks” and sought a correction of the record from the senator: “After all, quite a few million people watch this show, people of widely varying degrees of intelligence, and the possibility of this sort of charge—even from an Allen Ginsberg—being accepted even in part, is dangerous.”

Jackson then sent the letter to presidential science advisor Lee DuBridge, who responded by detailing the latest science, which showed that while there was uncertainty about the effects of increased levels of carbon dioxide, the greenhouse gas effect was real and a product of fossil fuel combustion.

“We just felt that strengthens the argument that this is not some little siloed scientific thing,” Oreskes said of the episode. “It’s not just a few geeky experts.”

[aeltri]

It's not just the UK that's scared Trump will get elected, it's the entire world.

He wants to turn your country into a theocratic, fascist dictatorship and you don't seem to mind. You really should. It's people like you who end up paying the price for governments like these. Trump isn't fighting the Deep State. He IS the Deep State.

By the way, paranoia can be treated. You just need to find a good psychiatrist who will help you get a life.

He's a servant of the Humanist Dark State (Beast), the Globalist Deep State (Harlot) is on it's way out. It's the old Hegelian Dialectic and they are correct in that no one can stop what's coming. The Humanists are Luciferian and the Globalists are Satanic but they both worship the "god" of this world. Think of them as different denominations with similar agendas but varying tactics. God (Big G) shall use the Humanists as he did the Romans, to pass judgement upon the Globalists for their innumerable transgressions. The Humanists will themselves be judged but not before they complete their all-important task. I've talked about this extensively...

A demon of Freemasonry told me, "The Architect is behind the veil." before I banished it with an exorcism prayer. My paternal grandfather was a Shriner so we're still dealing with that generational spirit. What do corrupt Freemasons call their "god"? The Great Architect. The veil is the barrier between the spirit world and ours. The LHC @ CERN is rending that safeguard with disastrous consequences. The Destroyer has yet to be released but I have seen that Archon and the human body it will inhabit. He looked Mizrahi so he shall truly be as Nimrod. The whole Merovingian nonsense was just a ruse. I've no skin in this game, I merely foretell.

PS: It's not paranoia, hypervigilance is a side effect of being able to see what most cannot.

[landhoe-norris]

I’m very new to F1 (as in, I started being a fan this past summer), but I’ve watched/read/consumed so much about it and the drivers (past and present) that it feels like longer. Anyways, thank you for validating my feelings about pr3, at first I was like “oh he’s funny” but gradually I started liking him less and less. I can’t pinpoint why, and I am not very familiar with what happened between him and Lando as teammates but something about his vibes don’t click with me. Idk. What makes you not like him? If you’re up to sharing? I’m trying to put it into words for myself. :/

Believe it or not, I was actually a Dan fan in the beginning. It all started going downhill some years ago, starting with him saying the n-word in a song. As someone with black people in my immediate family I have both witnessed them being called that word + have listened when they have told me how much that word affects them, and I just had an immediate “nope fuck that shit” reaction. It’s not our word, we don’t get to use it - it doesn’t matter the capacity.

It only got worse after that. His frat boy humour, lack of accountability and immaturity made me weak in the knees when I was younger (I had shit taste in men back then. Like abysmal. Cocaine snorting chefs level of trash heaps). The problem is that I grew up, while he didn’t. He still has that same immature humour, he still takes no accountability for his behaviour on track but the worst thing (and what tipped me over the edge of “he’s a loser to he’s a fucking loser”) were his fans.

His fans + his own team have done him no favours. They are delusional (truly, really), they attack others like a rabid mob (Lando, McLaren social media admins, Mind volunteers) and his team is known to have planted stories about Lando during their two years as teammates together. Don’t even get me started on the lies told about his former trainer Michael Italiano on X that he has never addressed. Zero accountability, I’m telling you.

How he handled Lando post-attack was horrid. Disgusting. And how he used PR to play the dopey, horribly treated victim during his last year of McLaren while it’s been factually proven that he knew he was on his way out just speaks to what kind of person he is. He got his fans so riled up that they viciously attacked his team at McLaren (engineers and others) who then made public pleas for them to stop. Yet he has never taken to social media to stop his rabid pack of dogs. He holds they key yet he refuses to utilise it.

He leaves teams as soon as he realises he can’t cope. He left RBR cause Max was better, he left Renault cause of money and he flounced out of McLaren cause he’s a mid driver who couldn’t adapt his driving style, something Lando does every single race.

He believes his own hype because he’s been catered to his entire life. Things are never his fault, always someone else’s or the cars or the teams. He is selfish as a teammate and the fact that he talked so much shit about Lando before joining McLaren just to get his ass handed back to him on a plate brings me immense joy.

He was going to send Lando to FE but in the end Lando was the sole architect of his demise 😌

[orchideae]

When I approach Yelan (or anyone else I've written), I don't just look directly at her character, but I also look at her surroundings. Both the ones that she knows by some semblance of necessity, but also those that she chooses. Like here, I talked about the Chasm, and what being 'okay' with existing down there needs to mean for a character, because it's not normal. Someone's surroundings, room, or home say a lot bout who they are and what their mindset, or specifically, their perspective is of the world. And sometimes, I think it says more about people than even the characters realize.

This brings me to the topic of the city of Fontaine. Now, I personally think it's rather obvious that a lot of the nation takes from historical France, and so when looking at it, I think it really adds to remember its monarchy, the view that the 'common folk' had of it, and its inevitable demise to non-existence today in terms of importance as a result. So my first question is, who constructed or decided on its layout? Was it Furina, Neuvillette, Egeria? Whoever it was, there's a lot that can be said about their view of the world and their placement in it when you look at locations of buildings. Look at where Palais Mermonia, its governing body, is located within the city; it sits at a rather astounding elevation in comparison to, well, everything and everyone else in the city. This frequently represents the concept of 'distance' between groups in one way or another, and seeing the consistency in other nations, this is something that is rather intriguing to me, especially keeping Fontaine's characters in mind (and considering this is the nation of 'justice'). Mondstadt has everything almost entirely uniform, with arguably the church on the highest level (but it isn't greatly elevated in comparison to all else), but it's joined with the plaza and statue which are a common gathering site for all people in the city. Liyue had the gods and adepti visibly living among the humans back in the days of the Guili Assembly for reasons of 'integration' (my apologies to numerous from our dear Guizhong!) The fact that numerous adepti now live far outside of the harbor is a different matter entirely, and the one who seems to function within a semblance of separation of sorts is Ningguang with the Jade Chamber (but I'm not one to speak on behalf of her character as I don't bear the knowledge). Inazuma also has the Tenshukaku at a higher elevation in comparison to the rest of Inazuma City. Sumeru is interesting, but ultimately Nahida was kept at the very peak of the city, far out of reach of humanity— but that's exactly the common denominator that has my interest, the distance between the 'governing body' and humanity for one reason or another.

But Fontaine really takes separation to a different level in my opinion (and again, think of this when you think of the person having designed the whole city), not only because of the above which I'll elaborate more on in a moment, but also its separation from the outside world. Now, this is interesting to think about if you keep in mind that it was perhaps done in eventual protection of the city's inhabitants in terms of the prophecy (which means that this would have been constructed anywhere during or after Egeria's reign), but then why is only Palais Mermonia far above the water's reach? If the walls surrounding the city were ever breached during said prophecy, all its inhabitants are pretty much immediately caught in the flood and would drown, which tells me nothing positive of the city's 'architect' or whoever signed off on the designs. But if not done for the prophecy, then why? Stand in the middle of the Court of Fontaine and really look around you, the only sights you really have of the outside world are the sky, and it's obstructed by a fair bit of the waterways and gardens that hang overhead, which you can only properly enjoy when you take the ages long elevator to the upper level where the palace is located (which, credit due, seems freely accessible to everyone in present-time). But if you don't venture up, how much of the outside world do you get to see? It feels very secluded, very much under lock and key. On some level (and this is one of the many reasons why I think that the Meropide is so excessively important in Fontaine and it's likely why we spent so much time there; it's all to show the ever, ever important contrast and nuance between this 'autonomous nation within Fontaine' and, well, 'Fontaine'), it almost feels like a prison, regardless of how pretty it may look or come across (and despite not 'lacking rights'). And considering how people in the Meropide speak of not always wanting to return back to the 'overworld' following their sentence, I think that there's definitely quite a bit of truth in that. But again, stand there and look around for yourself.

Now to return to the original topic, but keeping the last one in mind as well, look at one other thing that I'm unsure how many have really kept an eye on: the massive effect Palais Mermonia's level has on the rest of the area (inside and outside of its walls). Have you ever walked through the city of Fontaine at any given time of day or night, north to south, east to west, clockwise or counter-clockwise circling through it; have you ever seen how it overshadows an immense part of the streets below it either entirely on its own (which to me signifies a very domineering presence), or together with those outer walls that surround the city? I know how I've spoken thoroughly with people before about how much I enjoy Fontaine and how dark it is in its storytelling, but despite how gorgeous this region with its water- and landscapes are; its city bears quite a heavy weight to me. I don't know who designed it, or ordered it to be constructed in this way, but nothing about the city itself truly, rationally, shows a healthy perspective versus its citizens.

Me: /continues on to ramble in tags because I'm me and I'm a nuisance with always more to say than I know how to coherently put into these posts.

[burr-ell]

For bingo: Laudna and Fresh Cut Grass

there is so much about laudna that could have been better if just like, she had another patron. literally anyone would do, let delilah DIE already, honestly i'd unplug laudna's life support if my phone was at 100%, what's imogen and her tissue paper ass gonna do

fcg is just SO charming, i would for SURE give him a leetol kees on the head <33 explore faith and romance and life you funky lil robit!! also @blorbologist will be including them in her perc'ahlia age of arcanum au, architect of our demise, and it's gon be GOOD yall

character bingo asks

[hemachhetriauthor]

It is a tragic love story about two characters who meet and fall in love at first sight in school. Their intrusive shyness and sense of belonging bring ultimate romance, also revealing their practical and painful sides in the journey, creating high drama. Fate turns them into friends, but deep down, they are almost married. They refer to themselves as two incomplete stories waiting to be finally completed before they have to part ways forever.

Narratives

Dheeraj: Extremely shy and reclusive by nature, an architect by profession, he was loyal and clear-headed, possessing qualities she felt a partner should have.

Prema: Introverted by nature, a nurse and a writer by profession, with attributes that he envies, he found her to be his right match.

Faiz: Confused head and possessive, but slightly caring by nature. A software engineer by profession, their bond of friendship was what she rides on to being committed.

Turning points

His mother’s demise turns him into a hophead in college, and by the time he comes out of rehab, clears all his backlogs, settles with a job, and messages her to confront, she opens up about her relationship before he could say anything.

His beginning of confession years after his marriage when she is back being single draws them into continuing their relationship from where they had left long ago. He digs into those buried emotions when his wife happens to read their romantic chats.

Objective

The ups and downs in the characters' lives in the course of loving each other deeply. The girl being naive, unaware of his struggles, his hidden love for her, and the reason behind his late approach. The tragedies and tests of love that continue after his confessions and the start of their affair. The longingness to meet yet choosing to sacrifice their love due to responsibilities caught my attention and reminded me of Lord Krishna’s saying that responsibilities are always supreme to love. 

Logline

An enthralling read

While our greatest joys come from love,

Our greatest pain comes from love as well!

But can a broken heart ever be complete again?

Read an engrossing tale of love, friendship, mistakes, and a chance at redemption!

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