#i might do a part 3

[mebssann]

Hair routine and rituals

[inkskinned]

so one of the things that's so horrifying about birth control is that you have to, like, navigate this incredibly personal choice about your body and yet also face the epitome of misogyny. like, someone in the comments will say it wasn't that bad for me, and you'll be utterly silenced. like, everyone treats birth control like something that's super dirty. like, you have no fucking information or control over this thing because certain powerful people find it icky.

first it was the oral contraceptives. you went on those young, mostly for reasons unrelated to birth control - even your dermatologist suggested them to control your acne. the list of side effects was longer than your arm, and you just stared at it, horrified.

it made you so mentally ill, but you just heard that this was adulthood. that, yes, there are of course side effects, what did you expect. one day you looked up yasmin makes me depressed because surely this was far too intense, and you discovered that over 12,000 lawsuits had been successfully filed against the brand. it remains commonly prescribed on the open market. you switched brands a few times before oral contraceptives stopped being in any way effective. your doctor just, like, shrugged and said you could try a different brand again.

and the thing is that you're a feminist. you know from your own experience that birth control can be lifesaving, and that even when used for birth control - it is necessary healthcare. you have seen it save so many people from such bad situations, yourself included. it is critical that any person has access to birth control, and you would never suggest that we just get rid of all of it.

you were a little skeeved out by the implant (heard too many bad stories about it) and figured - okay, iud. it was some of the worst pain you've ever fucking experienced, and you did it with a small number of tylenol in your system (3), like you were getting your bikini line waxed instead of something practically sewn into your body.

and what's wild is that because sometimes it isn't a painful insertion process, it is vanishingly rare to find a doctor that will actually numb the area. while your doctor was talking to you about which brand to choose, you were thinking about the other ways you've been injured in your life. you thought about how you had a suspicious mole frozen off - something so small and easy - and how they'd numbed a huge area. you thought about when you broke your wrist and didn't actually notice, because you'd thought it was a sprain.

your understanding of pain is that how the human body responds to injury doesn't always relate to the actual pain tolerance of the person - it's more about how lucky that person is physically. maybe they broke it in a perfect way. maybe they happened to get hurt in a place without a lot of nerve endings. some people can handle a broken femur but crumble under a sore tooth. there's no true way to predict how "much" something actually hurts.

in no other situation would it be appropriate for doctors to ignore pain. just because someone can break their wrist and not feel it doesn't mean no one should receive pain meds for a broken wrist. it just means that particular person was lucky about it. it should not define treatment.

in the comments of videos about IUDs, literally thousands of people report agony. blinding, nauseating, soul-crushing agony. they say things like i had 2 kids and this was the worst thing i ever experienced or i literally have a tattoo on my ribs and it felt like a tickle. this thing almost killed me or would rather run into traffic than ever feel that again.

so it's either true that every single person who reports severe pain is exaggerating. or it's true that it's far more likely you will experience pain, rather than "just a pinch." and yet - there's nothing fucking been done about it. it kind of feels like a shrug is layered on top of everything - since technically it's elective, isn't it kind of your fault for agreeing to select it? stop being fearmongering. stop being defensive.

you fucking needed yours. you are almost weirdly protective of it. yours was so important for your physical and mental health. it helped you off hormonal birth control and even started helping some of your symptoms. it still fucking hurt for no fucking reason.

once while recovering from surgery, they offered you like 15 days of vicodin. you only took 2 of them. you've been offered oxy for tonsillitis. you turned down opioids while recovering from your wisdom tooth extraction. everything else has the option. you fucking drove yourself home after it, shocked and quietly weeping, feeling like something very bad had just happened. the nurse that held your hand during the experience looked down at you, tears in her eyes, and said - i know. this is cruelty in action.

and it's fucked up because the conversation is never just "hey, so the way we are doing this is fucking barbaric and doctors should be required to offer serious pain meds" - it's usually something around the lines of "well, it didn't kill you, did it?"

you just found out that removing that little bitch will hurt just as bad. a little pinch like how oral contraceptives have "some" serious symptoms. like your life and pain are expendable or not really important. like maybe we are all hysterical about it?

hysteria comes from the latin word for uterus, which is great!

you stand here at a crossroads. like - this thing is so important. did they really have to make it so fucking dangerous. and why is it that if you make a complaint, you're told - i didn't even want you to have this in the first place. we're told be careful what you wish for. we're told that it's our fault for wanting something so illict; we could simply choose not to need medication. that maybe if we don't like the scraps, we should get ready to starve.

we have been saying for so long - "i'm not asking you to remove the option, i'm asking you to reconsider the risk." this entire time we hear: well, this is what you wanted, isn't it?

[shorthaltsjester]

Why are your children bound by rules you will not follow?

Critical Role, Campaign 3, Downfall Parts 1-3 // Commandments of The Prime Deities according to the Tal'Dorei Campaign Setting Reborn

[namine-rae]

PART TWO LETS GOOOOOOOOO

Four was on the ground. They’d just finished a battle with a black blooded Lynel in Wild’s era, and they were all pretty beat up. Four was lucky with only a few scrapes and bruises, and maybe some cracked ribs. Wind had been thrown into a tree, hitting his head pretty hard. They were just about to regroup and heal when the portals showed up. 

Four groaned and rolled over, staring up at the familiar trees overhead. He smiled and sighed with relief. This was the Minish woods. Safe. 

He took a moment to calm his breathing. It was quiet. 

Too quiet. 

Four jolted upright, looking around. There was wind to his left, but where were the others?!? 

He didn’t want to be alone with Wind!

Of course he cares about the kid, how could he not? But between the wind magic, and the now white hair (oh how he regretted putting that hat on wind’s head), he was struggling with recognizing that it was Wind, and not Vaati. Not anymore. 

It’s hard to reconcile that the being that was once his greatest enemy, was now a brother-in-arms, practically a little brother.  Especially with all the tricks and pranks wind likes to pull. 

And now they were here. Both injured, alone, and in the woods. 

His ribs protested as he stood. Someone needed to check on wind’s head injury. 

Which was bleeding. 

A lot.  

Oh no. 

Wind needs medical attention, fast. 

Four checked his bag.

No potions. 

He checked Wind’s bag. 

Still no potions. 

They hadn’t had a chance to restock after the last big fight before the Lynel. 

This is bad. Really bad. 

Neither of them have potions. 

The nearest help is either his own house, which was likely an hour away, or…

Minish Village.

What should he do?

Wind needs help, quickly, but did he dare take him to the village?

With his white hair, which is slowly turning red with blood, the villagers could react negatively, or even refuse to help. 

Wind coughed, breath rattling and wheezing. 

He sighed. 

Looks like he’ll have to trust that the Minish won’t turn them away. 

So, Four pulled wind onto his back, and started looking for a Minish Portal. With any luck, the transformation spell will work on both of them. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, if there was any doubt in his mind of Wind being a reincarnation of Vaati, it was gone now. 

The spell had worked. Four was in his usual Minish form, four tails and all. Another consequence of his second adventure. 

And Wind?

Well…

If it weren’t for the blue tunic and orange pants staying the same, he’d think he was carrying Vaati in Minish form. Feather tail and all. 

This was not going to be pretty when wind woke up. 

~~~~~~~~~~

The walk to the village was stressful. Each rattling breath from wind sending spikes of worry and relief into his heart. Worry for the state of wind’s lungs, and relief for the confirmation that he was still alive. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once they got there, the villagers reacted with shock and fear. 

Four ignored them, and focused on getting to Ezlo’s house. Ezlo would be able to help them. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was right. Ezlo always had a stash of potions, and had learned a lot about healing since their adventure together. He said it was because someone had to make sure Four (and the colors) took care of himself. 

They managed to fix wind’s ribs and reduce the head injury to a more mild one. 

He’d be out of it for a bit longer, but that could be fixed when they met up with the others. 

For now, Four and Ezlo sat at a table, drinking tea, as Four updated his friend and mentor on what exactly has been going on. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Their discussion was interrupted by a groan coming from wind. 

He opened his eyes and turned to look at the two of them. His expression fell. 

“Ughhhhhhh. Another one of these stupid memory thingsss. Whyyyyyyyy…”

Four and Ezlo exchanged shocked glances. Four didn’t know wind had been remembering things. 

Wind continued, not registering what they were doing. “Vaatiii is such a jerkkkkk. So meannn. Alwaysss goin after fourrr.”

Wind was staring at the ceiling, voice getting higher in pitch with distress. “Four’s my favorite. Favorite brotherrrrr. The bestttt.”

And wasn’t that a punch to the gut. Here was Four, who had been avoiding him, and trying not to attack him, and Wind still cared about him. 

Four walked over to the bed, and gently ran his hand through wind’s bone white hair. 

“We even gots the same sheilddd. Gran says it’s, it’s, from a hero loooooongg ago. She lemme take it when Aryll got- got-“

Wind broke off into tears, presumably remembering when his little sister got taken. 

Four stood there, frozen. They had the same shield? How? He’d seen Wind’s sheiks and they were similar, but not the same. Maybe wind was mistaken?

Four shook his head to refocus his thoughts. 

“Wind, could you tell me about your shield?” He asked, trying to get Wodm to focus on something other than his sister’s kidnapping. 

Wind sniffled a bit, and stopped crying. “Isss a family thin…”

Wind turned back to the ceiling, a contemplative look at his face, not realizing he just broke Four. 

Four stared at wind in shock,“My shield, is a… family heirloom?!? We’re related!?!”

Ezlo remained at their table. Stunned and bewildered. Here was his current student, and a reincarnation of his previous one, and it seemed things are only getting more complicated.

The three of them remain silent for a moment, each caught up in their own thoughts. 

Wind broke the silence with a whisper, “Am I a monster?”

Four and Ezlo were ripped from their thoughts. 

“If I was bad, and keep coming back, does that make me as bad as Ganon?”

Not noticing the twin looks of horror direct at him, Wind fell asleep. 

Four and the wind mage

Fanfic prompt: all good things are three , right

Vaati has one attempt left at reincarnation before it becomes cringe worthy like ganondorf

So what if after the Dead Sea flooded Hyrule

The four sword started rusting under the salty and toxic water (the great sea canonically houses no fish and the Zora left it because it was not inhabitable and became rito)

And almost 200 years later it broke down allowing Vaati who has collected his magic for years to cast one last spell to restore him back to his hylian form

But during it he accidentally or willingly erased his memories because hyrule was gone and presumably his only way to seek revenge because the four sword heroes are all dead and the hero spirit gone

And then hylia decides on a vile yet beautifully ironic joke one last time

And he is reborn as a child named link from Outset Island and also part of the bloodline of the hero he swore to destroy

But his ability to control the wind remains and when link's little sister gets kidnapped by a mysterious bird he takes his ancestor's shield to get her back

As the hero of the wind

When link found himself in the final battle against ganondorf he was filled with rage and not just for his sister

He felt a rage that compelled him to fight back to seek vengeance for something he didn’t even understand

As he pierced the skull off the enemy all he felt was satisfaction

A satisfying feeling off revenge and freedom

He would not sympathize with the man even when he could understand the desperation

Something in his very core was finally avenged something he didn’t even understand

When linked universe happens :

Four meeting the chain and a hero of the winds : calm but confused

Four seeing wind use the exact same wind magic as a particular wind mage : heavy breathing

Four realizing that wind has quite a few personality traits as a certain wind mage like self confidence and a problem with bad mentorship’s: heavier breathing

Four remembering that Vaati has already reincarnated and decided to infiltrate his bloodline and he just has to deal with a wind mage in his family: :(

Four then for his own peace of mind asks dot for the magic hat and puts it on wind just to no longer awkwardly look at him

When wind changed color palette to match Vaati he decided that he really shouldn’t have done it if there even is the smallest possibility of

A bleached wind with wind magic on steroids

Or

me wondering why the toon time line (the toonline) has both a wind mage as the villain but later also a wind mage with the unsettlingly similar abilities as the hero

Vaati can use mind control which he used to control the knights in both his appearances

Wind also has the ability to mind control people (command melody)

Vaati can create hurricanes

Vaati can also teleport at will

Guess what wind can do so too

[lil-lemon-snails]

decided to draw some of your guys' tags from my harlequin sun and moon post!!! These guys are so much fun and you're all so funny >w<

[cosmicvaca]

Jotaro and Noriaki in Central Park, 1990

I went to New York and took some photos so I could put my boys in them <3 Took this photo while also sharing a pretzel with my mom though I hope theirs wasn't as stale as ours

[monsterqueers]

Im just really annoyed about how people just fucking hate it when the kids they were jealous of and hated in school for not also getting bad grades also report being fucking traumatized by the school system.

Yeah sorry school traumatizes everyone, even the 'ex-gifted kids' you fucking hate because god forbid someone wasnt exploited and overworked the same way you were.

Sorry a group of predominately neurodiverse people experiencing burnout and how their upbringing of being only valued for their academic performance totally fucked their ability to function in the real world dare talk about this pain where you can see.

Its not being privileged and ~humblebragging~ to report emotional neglect from your parents centered around you having to get perfect grades to receive any scrap of love.

Wishing violence on them for talking about it and finding each other isn't cute either.

And because these people need it stated extra clear

This post is NOT saying other groups of people 'had it less bad'. This is about a specific phenomenon of vitriol towards a oft neurodiverse group of people commiserating about how they were screwed over by the system under the label 'gifted kid' NOT whatever else you are imagining im saying. <3

[littlemissclandestine]

Soft!Adler Headcanons: (Girl)Dad! Edition Part 2

⭐ A continuation of this post

He'd try his best to be there for any award ceremonies at school, sneaking in at the back just in time to see his daughter on stage. As soon as she makes eye contact, he'll give her a thumbs up and a wink, mouthing 'I love you'

I wanna say he'd be that dad who stands up and claps loudly, telling everyone that that's his daughter on stage. He's so supportive bless.

Oh and photos where he stands behind her and has his hands on her shoulders and smiles for the camera. Yup, quite a few of those stashed away.

When she'd have a presentation to give on her biggest inspiration and/or hero in her life, it would be about her dad. It would end up in tears for her as he'd be away...or would he? Adler would come in, standing off to the side, watching her recite from a piece of paper saying how much she looks up to her father, how she misses him etc. It almost brings a tear to his own eyes. Everyone's heads would turn and his daughter would run up to him, Russell scooping her up and hugging her. Missed you my lil spaghetti

During downtime, his priority would always be his daughter. No ifs and no buts. Even if he hated the idea she proposed.

One of those was testing makeup. Russell would always straight up say no, asking her to call her mother for that but when he saw how upset it made her, he'd sigh and grumpily sit down in a chair by her dresser and let her do whatever she wanted. -> "Jesus, kid, watch it, you always this rough with your friends too?" He'd ask with a chuckle as she blends the foundation. He could sit there all day and listen to her explain how to use each product and proceed to yap about whatever crosses her mind

When she'd put on eyeliner and apply it to his waterline, he was genuinely scared -> "Don't poke my eyes out, the only thing I got going for me. God, can't believe I'm letting you do this, missy." He'd pinch her side and tickle her.

As soon as he's allowed to look in the mirror, he does a double take, wondering how the hell he looks like such a diva but he downplays it. -> "Good job, kid...good job indeed."

When she hurts herself, he can't help but kneel down and help her. He knows he should stop and that she needs to develop her independence but it's hard for him. -> "Got a boo boo, sweetheart? Let me see. Aww on the knee, huh? Come here, let's get you cleaned up and get a plaster on it, yeah? Shhhh you're okay."

Baking with his daughter? YES. They'd make a mess of the kitchen for sure, not really tidying up as they go. Every time his daughter would come to him with a new recipe, he's out the front door with her in an instant, ticking off their checklist of ingredients in the store and thinking of ways he could add their twist on it

Her drawings would be on display with personalised fridge magnets that spell her name etc

There's a wall or archway where he measures her height every year and marks it on with pencil. -> "Heh, you've had a hell of a growth spurt, sweetheart. Would you look at that."

If his daughter was a trouble maker, he'd be that parent that would refuse to see what was wrong. It was self defense as far as he's concerned. He doesn't really need to do much of the talking. He's genuinely surprised seeing her stand up for herself, the corner of his mouth curving into a smile as he watches her rant to the principal. Did he teach her that? To not play by the rules? Guess he's rubbing off on her. A little worrying but eh -> "Put that in your pipe and smoke it." High fives as soon as they get back into the car after the meeting with the principal is over is a given.

If there's something you should know about Russell Adler, it's that he loves being spontaneous. One day, he might take his daughter out fishing, teaching her the ropes, the next they're at a painting class together, his daughter being impressed by his hidden talent or cycling in the summer during the sunset, Russell asking her what her goals are in life and telling her how proud he is of her and that he wishes he could be around more. Bonding time is so important to him.

There are certainly times where he struggles. Apart from the emotional side of things and his job getting in the way i mean. Possibly control. Like we know he has strong leadership skills he's developed over his career. I'd like to think that seeps into his parenting a little too much. He tends to ramble and tell his daughter how to do something and talking her through it, hovering over her even though she knows already and has been doing said thing for years.

Maybe it's just a part of him wanting to feel useful and needed. Still wanting her to rely on him even in her 20s or 30s, partly in denial that she's not that young girl who'd sit on his lap anymore. It really hits him when he's walking her down the aisle.

And maybe he'd be over-critical of himself as a parent and her as a daughter, especially since he sees the cost of mistakes in the world of espionage and the military

The only people that have seen his daughter from work are Sims, Woods and Mason and maybe Park but it isn't a regular thing, wanting to keep her as far away from the CIA as possible. Park had a shock when she saw him like that for the first time. -> "Never thought i'd see the day, Adler. You, a family man? Rather ghastly I must say but you do look happy."

[cangrellesteponme]

i don't think wonderland is ready for those alices

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 4 ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, furina, lyney {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 3.7k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]

Fontaine was bathed in darkness, not even the moon daring to illuminate where the common man fears to walk. The streets were bleak and empty save for the constant, rhythmic ticking and clanking of machines marching on endlessly, dauntlessly wading where even the bravest dared not to venture. Not even the sharp click of the Gardes boots followed the occasional hisses of steam as they walked the barren streets.

It was haunting, and it'd been like that for days now. It showed little signs of stalling in the slightest, too. Every inch of Fontaine was practically crawling with Gardemeks– like a swarm of rats skittering about.

Arlecchino had secluded herself in the Hotel Bouffes d'ete for days at this point, waiting– biding her time. Her nails clicked against the wood as she tapped at the table in a stilted rhythm, the subtle click of the clock mixing into the clanking outside, weaving in and out of earshot as the patrols slipped by. She reached forward after a moment of thought, reaching for the white king.

She leaned back against the chaise, tilting her head just enough to catch a glimpse of a patrol of Gardemeks as they vanished behind the rows and rows of buildings. It wasn't enough to keep her attention for long, however, her features twisting in disinterest as she glanced back to the chessboard– and the letter neatly resting beside it. The seal was unmistakable and a sobering sight, demanding her attention– the soft hues of blue etched into the shape of a dragon stared back at her in a way that almost unsettled her.

She had already parsed through it's contents hundreds of times, but she was met with only vague, flowing script that only served to irritate her more then anything– it filled the page top to bottom yet managed to say nothing at all. Her hand reached out again, but instead of reaching for the letter she plucked the black rook from the board, setting it down with a soft click.

Arlecchino had all the time in the world to sit back and observe her prey, but all that time would be useless if she lacked the information to act.

And he was quite tight fisted about it, evidentially. None of her inquiries or attempts to decipher any potential codes in the letter left her empty handed. She could not act without even knowing the reason for his summons– it was almost worded like a personal affair rather then one would expect for a foreign diplomat. In truth, she'd expected a scalding report on her operatives, but it lacked any mention of anything of the sort.

She was no stranger to people masking hostility behind pretty words and compliments, not that it was ever unwarranted per se– the Fatui did not create connections through honesty and genuine kindness. They have strong armed more then their fair share of people into cooperation to the point distrust is all the Fatui are met with outside of Snezhnaya. Every word was meant to conceal the deceit, every action meant to conceal the price later paid.

So she had been..skeptical of the letter, to put it lightly. She doubted the Iudex of all people would offer a hand to the Fatui without a price attached– a trap, perhaps, meant to lure in the most powerful piece left on the board. Her eyes narrowed, reaching for a white rook and moving it to the right.

Or he was hiding something. Something that he simply couldn't risk getting out to anyone, not even the Divine themself. A tempting prize, whatever it was.

..A dangerous prize, too.

She'd considered burning the letter and forgetting it all together– the risk was great, and she couldn't risk getting caught up by whoever else the Iudex may have on his side of the board. But she could hardly pass up the challenge and the prize that he fought so hard to keep from prying eyes and ears. Even her agents came back empty handed each time. She lazily picked up a black rook, sliding the white pawn aside.

"Lyney," Arlecchino drawled, crossing one leg over the other and turning her gaze to the door as it slowly creaked open. The pale visage of Lyney stepped through, though his siblings were noticeably absent. The weariness that weighed down on his shoulders was apparent in the slightest furrow of his brows and the subtle creak of leather as he clenched his fists behind his back. "Father." He choked out, the title dragged out by the sharp inhale and shaky exhale.

He looked out of breath, she noted.

The silence that lingered after the small exchange was punctuated only by the click of another chess piece being moved. She sets aside the black rook, letting it sit among the dozen other pieces that had been wiped off the board. She can see the conviction glinting beneath the fog of exhaustion, but if he would utilize it was another matter all together.

He had seemed to make his choice quickly, at the very least.

"Our contacts and operatives within the Fortress of Meropide have gone silent– all we have is their final confirmed missive.." His voice is confident, but it is rigid as the words spill from his lips. He takes a sharp step forward, unfolding his arms from behind his back and opening his hands– the small, water stained and messily folded note catches her eye, plucking it from his palms with a half hearted interest. "They believe the Duke left the Fortress of Meropide..and that he may be coming to the Court of Fontaine."

Her eyes narrow dangerously, nearly crumpling the thin paper in her hands– yet just as quickly, she collects herself.

But she cannot get rid of the bitter taste on her tongue, lingering as she sets down the note and slides it to the side, her lips pursed into a thin line.

So the Iudex had shown one of his pieces..she tightly grasps a black rook, tipping over the white rook, letting it roll against the board.

If the Duke was involved, things were much more complicated then she expected– he would be a problem, she was certain. She couldn't blame the lamb for fearing the wolf, either. Whether her agents had been killed or captured by the man mattered little. He had his ways, and he was a force that could instill fear in even them.

Which meant the possibility that her operation was already compromised was far too real.

What had the Iudex so concerned he had gone through the trouble of bringing in the Duke and herself? The Fatui was one thing, but to specifically request one of it's Harbingers..

The Prophecy? The thought had her clenching her fist, but..no. If it were to rear it's head now, the Iudex could simply not afford to waste time on his contacts deciphering his nonsensical script– If the prophecy were to be the issue, there time would be limited to mere minutes in the worst of cases. Which meant it was worth biding his time in order to ensure absolute secrecy.

So if not the prophecy, then what?

Her next moves were..limited. She was already walking on eggshells considering her position and the reputations of the Fatui– especially with a Harbinger in the midst. If they caught wind of her operations, they'd weed out her operatives and be on guards for any snakes that lingered in their garden.

She reached for the chessboard again, picking up one of the white rooks from the board with a scowl. The sharp click as she sets down the white rook and sets aside the black pawn draws a shaky inhale from Lyney as she moves another black pawn, the dull click of the pieces drowning out the distant clinking of machines.

..A draw, perhaps.

The pieces were all falling into place– the players of this game were slowly being revealed. Whether she could secure her victory..she was unsure.

She wasn't even sure who her opponent was. Only that the Iudex himself was but another piece in their game.

Arlecchino reached for the board again, yet this time she hesitated. Perhaps she could still swipe the win from beneath them, if she played her cards right.

She would simply have to capture the king– or, if need be, let it end on a draw. Either way, she would not concede. She could not afford to concede. Down to the last piece, she would drag out this match until she was in a position to force their hand into the outcome she desired.

She stood slowly, picking up the king piece and observing it for only the briefest of moments before she set it down on the table, taking measured steps around the table and across the room. She was hunting a much more dangerous quarry today– it would be no simple runaway traitor this time.

"Do you remember the directive?" She inquired coldly, her hand lingering on the door for that long, tense moment. "..Yes, Father." Lyney faltered, taking a hesitant step back and bowing at the waist. "Then do not stray."

All that was left was the silence and click of the door shutting behind her as she disappeared down the hall, her boots clicking harshly against the floorboards. The rest of the agents knew better then to linger in her path as she stepped down into the lobby, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. She barely even acknowledged the Fatui agent standing at the ready by the heavyset doors, their gloves hands held out with her cloak held loosely in their palms. She quickly snagged it from them, tugging it over her board shoulders and clasping it around her throat.

With a quick tug, she brought the hood up over her head to conceal her sharp features, lifting her hand and placing a neatly folded note within their waiting hands. She had only one chance to make the right moves and secure her victory– no matter the cost.

Each piece had it's purpose.

Oft, that purpose was a bloody and horrible end– but for the grand goal of the Fatui built on the backs of the dead, it was an honor.

She didn't bother speaking a word as she dismissed them with a wave of her hand, pushing open the heavyset doors and stepping out into the barren, damp streets. The rhythmic clink and whir of Gardemeks was still distant– she needed to move. Her boots clicked and splashed in the rain soaked stone of the streets as she slithered between the buildings, ducking through the openings in the patrols.

It was almost too easy.

She tilted her head back, taking in the towering Palais Mermonia with a scowl, her hands clenched into fists. The final moves were being played– the king was within her reach, yet she felt no more confident then when she began.

The air carried a sense of unease, thick and heavy, filling her lungs until she felt her breath still in her chest– listening to the empty, bleak night that seemed so..quiet.

She'd done her fair share of research, had more then her fair share of her agents try to peer into the Iudex's office or the Archon's supposedly hidden chambers, but every attempt was a failure. She had to give them credit, they were quite elusive when they wished to be. Though now she only thought about it bitterly– this was all a risky gamble, in the end, and only time would tell if it paid off.

With minimal effort, she'd managed to pull herself to the flat, tiled roof, eyeing the massive tower peaking out of the center cautiously. At least here the wandering patrols down below weren't likely to notice her..she could hear them passing by the spot she'd been in only a few minutes ago, just beneath her. She pulled the hood further over her face, peering through the sheer darkness of the night for any oddities, but it was almost impossible to see in the dark.

Her boots clicked softly against the tiles as she approached the tower jutting out from the Palais, her hand gliding along the smooth stone, pressing against odd indents or crevices. If it was for the Archon's chambers, she doubted they made it very difficult– she'd only met the woman once, but she doubted the Iudex make it all that complex just from a brief glance. And it surprised her little when one of the stones sunk into the wall, gears whirring as the walls split open to reveal a stairwell straight into an inky black hall. Only the barest hint of light peaked under the door at the bottom, but it's occupants must have heard her, considering it went out not a moment later.

She cautiously stepped down into the small crevice, her breath visible in the bitter cold air– her shoulders tensed at the subtle sound of muffled footsteps behind the door, her vision flaring with a molten heat between her shoulder blades as she reached for the worn handle of the door. The heat of her vision was enough to just barely heat the metal, her vision flaring like a quickly building inferno.

Arlecchino was prepared for a fight, if it came down to it.

The door creaked as she pressed against it, shoving it open with a grunt of effort and surveying the room with narrowed eyes and a biting remark on the tip of her tongue– the lavish opulence was expected, she supposed, but the lack of the towering figure of the Iudex was not.

Yet before she could get a word in or even take in her surroundings properly, the light flickered back on and she had to squeeze her eyes shut with a hiss at the sudden brightness. She could hear the door being shoved closed behind her, the hurried footsteps retreating just as quickly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

..This was a joke, wasn't it? It had to be.

She'd expected the Iudex, perhaps even the Duke if she'd been unlucky, not the Hydro Archon. She had half the mind to test her worth as an Archon then and there, her temper flaring like an uncontrollable blaze, barely kept at bay. It took all her self control to force herself to smile politely at the woman rather then snarl.

"Miss Furina," She sneered beneath her hood, x shaped pupils locked onto the startled, trembling Archon with thinly veiled contempt. "What a..pleasant surprise. You'll have to forgive my manners, I assumed I was meeting with the Iudex." She observed her body language carefully– the way her eyes darted about like a frightened rabbit seeking escape, the slightest tremble of her lips..

Arlecchino opened her mouth to offer another scathing remark, but her jaw audibly clicked shut as her entire body seemed to lock up. Even her vision went cold against her back, a chilling feeling creeping up her spine as someone, or something, crept up behind her. Their footsteps were almost silent, the slight rustling of their clothes the only thing she could hear over her heart pounding against her ribcage.

Arlecchino had always prided herself on being on the other end of that sensation– she was the monster, and her target was the prey frozen like a deer between the hunters crosshair.

It was a chilling feeling to have the dynamic shifted on it's head.

She couldn't even swallow, her jaw clenched so hard she could hear it creak as she tried to reason with her quickly splintering mind– a futile effort, her joints locking up almost painfully. Black spots were quickly swallowing her vision from the lack of air in her lungs, the sound of shuffling behind her barely audible over the ringing in her ears.

For a moment – a moment too long to have only lasted the seconds that it did, yet so quick it gave her whiplash – she thought she would hit the floor dead before she could even glimpse her assailant.

And then it was gone. She came crashing back into reality with a startled inhale, her lungs burning and her knees nearly buckling under her. The instinct to lash out and kill whoever had done it was intense, yet she couldn't bring herself to move even a finger– it would be so easy to twist around and ignite them with searing flames, but her feet were rooted in place.

She almost didn't notice the surprisingly gentle hands unclasping her cloak, tugging it off her shoulders, if not for the sheer intensity of the presence still lingering behind her. Her mind was still fractured, struggling to right itself after the ordeal, and it had her seething.

"..Are you certain you held back enough?" Furina croaked, the normally soft lilt raspy and almost hoarse. "Not– not that I doubt your capability, most Divine!"

Arlecchino felt her nails dig harshly into her palms, heat swelling beneath her skin– Divine? Had she lost her mind? The Divine was..

The Divine was upon their throne where they belonged. She'd seen them!

"Hm. Well, maybe? Sorry, I didn't think it'd affect you too." Their voice was sickeningly soft as they stepped around her like she wasn't even there, focusing their attention on the Archon who seemed more then delighted about it. "What gave you that impression, most Divine? Aha, I..was completely unaffected, as you can see! Perfectly fine."

Furina let out a small squeak when they pinched her cheek, but the almost affectionate smile that tugged at their lips revealed the lack of malice behind the action.

"You're a bad liar, Furina. You might want to sit down..please?" They didn't take her protests for an answer, gently pushing her to sit on the bed before abruptly turning to face Arlecchino once more, a forced smile on their lips. "Oh, good, you're..uh, not dead. That's good. I thought I fried your brain. Sorry?"

..Had she hit her head on the way here? The Divine should still be on their throne, yet she couldn't shake the weight of their stare– it felt tangible. She felt like she was standing face to face with the stars– galaxies and constellations bearing down upon her.

She grit her teeth and clenched her hands until she felt the sting of her nails against her palms, grounding herself in the pain through the sheer overwhelming nature of their existence.

"You.." She croaks, reaching out with a shaky hand and grabbing them by the collar of their shirt, lifting them up until their feet left the floor– she pays no mind to the startled protests of the Archon. Arlecchino would crush her like a bug before she even got the chance to intervene and they both knew it. "You shouldn't exist– you aren't them, and yet you..you're the imposter, aren't you?" Her grip tightens yet they face her without an ounce of fear, meeting her unyielding glare with a pondering look.

Arlecchino wanted to make them bleed just to see if she could, the urge to sink her teeth into skin welling up in her chest to the point she visibly snarled, her mask of politeness long . "You're the imposter." Her expression falls for a moment before she schools it into one of apathy, setting them back down and holding them there for a moment, finally releasing them after a tense moment. "Or you were supposed to be."

Hers brows furrow– she wants to demand answers, to throttle them for damning them to being nothing more then dolls for the supposed Divine to break at their whim, but none of the words come to her.

"..Why now? The current Divine has been in power for years, yet you descend now?" Her shoulders tensed, lips pursed into a thin line– it's impossible to ignore the truth that lay before her. The Divine is a fraud and this..imposter is the true Divine. How many years had they been in power, now? How many years were they waiting? Why did they wait? Was the suffering of Teyvat not enough? Was the blood that painted the steps of their stolen throne not enough?

She'd personally been on the wrong end of the Divine's wrath– she wonders..had they watched? Had they seen the cruel hand of their imposter and turned their back on Teyvat?

"I.." They hesitated. It made her seethe, her hands clenching into fists at her sides– her vision flickered, flames swelling within it's casing just to be smothered by the presence of the Divine. But once that spark had been lit, she refused to let it go out. "I didn't know."

The answer does not satisfy her. There is an itch beneath her skin that she cannot scratch, a fire that burns in her chest so hot it scorches even herself.

"And what about now? Are you content to cower like prey in the safety of the Palais Mermonia?" She snapped, taking a step forward, her brows furrowed and her glare intense– she can see the slightest bit of worry in their eyes. She revels in it. "Will you let them use your acolytes like pawns? How many more need to be broken on the steps to your throne before you act?"

Again, her vision flares and dims– it refuses to be used against the Divine that created it.

"Have you no answer?"

The room is silent. They do not speak and neither does she.

Even the world itself seems to quiet in the face of her accusations, fury boiling to the surface so hot it incinerated all it touched.

"I will kill them myself."

Their words are quiet, but they are not soft– there is a vindictive, searing anger that explodes out like dying stars within their eyes. The sight of constellations replaced by a void that would not be . The smell of ichor grows stronger– to the point she feels almost lightheaded.

"..I am aware that I have failed in preventing this, but I had no choice in the matter. Still," They muse, their voice like the tolling of bells. A solemn melody that stills the swelling fury burning in her chest, if only for a moment. "I will rectify it– I will tear down their throne of lies and let not even the earth tarnish itself by burying their corpse among it's soil."

They pause for a moment, holding out their hand– scarred and bandaged by the weapons of the devout, yet still they take upon the burden of dirtying their hands to save those who did not save them.

"Do you trust me, Arlecchino?"

Did she?

"Will you help me?"

She exhales heavily, meeting the starry iris' of the Divine with a scowl still tugging at her lips. Arlecchino trusted no one but herself.

"..Yes."

[off-mozzarella]

A lil something for Whumptober day 10: blow to the head

[rking200]

Sometimes the only road to take is the darkest Sometimes the only way out is as a carcass

Happy 6th Anniversary, Detroit: Become Human! As always, you can find these gifs and more on the Connor and Markus pages of my Gif Archive.

[fumifooms]

"Marchil? I guess I can see it on Chilchuck’s end, but what about Marcille’s? What makes you think she could develop feelings for him?" I’m glad you asked!

The first thing to note is that she does think highly of him

In the page on the right, literally defending his virtues and literally comparing him to Dalclan. And oh…

She does love a brooding mysterious guy who closes himself to love. But surely, Chilchuck isn’t her type at all, right? He’s not princely or knightly at all. In apperances certainly not, both looks wise and demeanor wise, but then that’s why she seeks to know him on a deeper level, to not only look shallowly.

And hmm. Chilchuck really is quite selfless isn’t he? Always looking out for others, and saving specifically her often, always making sure himself and, staying in or even running towards danger for her sometimes. Modesty is often considered heroic…

And can we talk about that drowning one… You can definitely frame the special attention as him knowing she tends to hesitate or be clumsy, and then his insistance on pulling her out of danger that she’s the healer aka the most important to keep alive, but. From the one who says that he just keeps his ass out of fights and won’t help this is a lot of risk to take, and he does die trying to pull her to safety in the dungeon rabbits chapter. And the drowning bit??? That’s when the dungeon collapses. The only reason they DON’T die of drowning here is that the water then gives way to outside. There was NO hope of pulling her to safety here and resurrections would likely not work either, he truly preferred to die with her than try to survive himself.

Sit your ass back DOWN you are in no state, self-sacrifical hero much damn

And Marcille definitely noticed this imo, after all she loves learning all she can about him, remembering things like how he hates waiting on people too. She pays attention to him and what he does and what he says. This to say that it’s notable, whatever reason for it you may think (though we know by this point at least she was already aware he was an adult though it wasn’t internalized), out of everyone it’s Chilchuck’s bed that she wants to sleep in during the Golden Kingdom stay. He’s safe and comforting to her: dependable, the defining trait in her view of him as is shown by the relationship chart in the Adventurer’s Bible.

^ Lending handkerchiefs is a romance trope btw and handkerchiefs have irl history of being used for courting. Especially in old English literature and plays like Shakespeare’s Othello, and personally I do see a lot of Shakespeare in Dalclan (nobility political drama with some romance). There’s how his cowl is a dearly beloved souvenir from his family too, there’s a lot of aesthetic tropes you can apply to him.

All this to say you can 100% romanticize Chilchuck into a princely noble guy if you try and that’s exactly what Marcille does with the wife roleplay. She doesn’t need much in the first place, she latches onto crumbs and makes aesthetic narratives out of details, give her an inch she’ll take a mile.

But what’s interesting about the shift throughout the arc of her and his relationship is that she starts out idealizing him into a little angel of a kid (shapeshifter), and she ends it idealizing him as a virtuous husband and family man instead.

And what’s doubly interesting is that in the former, she’s actively warping who he is personality and demeanor wise to fit the aesthetic, he doesn’t have that bitter pride of not asking for help and the edges have been smoothened. But what she does during the wife roleplay is something else, she acknowledges the flaws and just… Accepts them, rolls with them. She’s aware of his flaws and implements them into the narrative, but the reason why his wife left doesn’t capitalize on them even, rather Chil is chilblivious and his wife loves him very much still, she’s just testing him after having had a night of feeling out of place at his side.

And this is what separates the idealization vs romanticization, she’s not twisting him into someone else she’s just uplifting what he is and focusing on the good sides.

Marcille: "he has a shitty personality sometimes but if he was my husband I’d still cherish him" "If I were your wife I’d be overjoyed to go out with you and would get myself prettied up while you complain about me taking a long time, your friends would tell me that I’m nice and that’d make me happy, but I’d also be sad because you wouldn’t tell me that you love me enough"

He’s angry and his wife left him, he’s *flawed*, but he’s still worth hyping up, still worth having his own romance story, still has a shot of winning back his beloved. She sees him for what he is, human and real and not a carefully scripted character that fits an aesthetic, and she thinks it’s still worthy of love and admiration and fighting for

And what’s funny too is that you might expect her to cool down on him once she learns more about him but actually she only gets increasingly into his business. You tell her your age and next thing you know you promise to introduce her to your family. Give her an inch she takes a mile. And too the thing is, Senshi is equally mysterious but she doesn’t pester him like at all, asks him ONCE about his succubus and he doesn’t even answer and that’s like… It. With Chilchuck it starts off innocently enough with her wanting to know his age, hometown, the stuff she mentions having asked pre-canon. But it just keeps and keeps going and escalating. Think she’ll be satisfied now knowing you have a wife and kids, maybe she’s disillusioned now? Wrong! She wants to know their names and ages and occupations and hey how did you propose to your wife? Do you think she’ll stop after meeting them? What’s next? What will she want to know next????

She’s�� Like it’s not a reach that Marcille is all over him. Like it doesn’t mean it’s romantic but she just is. She is not normal about him idk. Can you not ask him about what tongue technique he used when first kissing his wife, give the man breathing room

Marcille could literally go "if I was Chilchuck’s wife" having deeply pondered and thought out the hypothetical and people would still ask where anyone sees any romantic potential between them. Oh wait

There’s a platonic explanation for everything (almost?) in Dungeon Meshi don’t say I’m saying otherwise, but it’s definitely not like there’s nothing here to read into lol

Going off a bit more under read bc it’s my fave topic

Marcille has a whole theme with the charming prince trope with her idealization and storybook motif and Chil is kinda the "Well someone perfect like that isn’t very realistic and romance is usually more complex and that’s ok and good and flawed people can still be ✨virtuous✨" catalyst

Do you see do you see she starts canon thinking the most romantic thing is a prince charming but her arc in the end has her romanticizing an average, flawed, real and realistic family man, who’s on the poorer side and is on the verge of divorce. And that’s what he needed, too, seeing the positive of himself and the situation instead of focusing on the negative is explicitly what inspires him to hope that he might be able to reconcile with his wife, gives him the courage and self-esteem to shoot his shot.

He IS a prince figure instead that now it’s not about idealizing the grand and overt it’s about romanticizing the small things in real life!! About finding joy and beauty in things that seem normal or mundane and uplifting them to make the world feel kinder!!!!

He’s the devoted virtuous man that she wantsss not the storybook prince that’s unrealistic and could crumble like a script at any time. He’s the perfect example of a flawed realistic but virtuous & devoted & loving man. Far from a prince charming, but not fully detached from it either. Something worth fighting for despite the flawed cracks. Like literally, flawed romance being worth fighting for is literally the finale of Chilchuck and Marcille’s arc on the matter, where their separate arcs and issues intersect at the most crucial moment.

Marcille is important to Chil’s arc not only because of her optimism, but also because of her interest and knowledge in romance & matters of the heart, and that’s what he needs to both open his heart up to hope and to try to reconcile with his wife, like idk sounds gay

Their arc together is literally learning to 1) see each other for how they are and not undermining their qualities capacities etc etc while still not leaving flaws unchecked either and 2) opening up to people. Marcille LITERALLY makes Chil open his heart up to hope like idk man. What do you want from me. He’s literally the guy helping her through deconstructing novels and fantasy and rose tinted glasses and like. Deconstructing the prince charming figure into something more real but still romantically beautiful like KUI KUI STOOOOP STOP I’M ALREADY HOOKED I’M ALREADY-

 Ok fine that’s me reading into the tropes too much forgive me for being storybook brained but like. Speaking his heart out to a lone woman on a balcony, Romeo and Juliette shit, asking if she, too, doesn’t want to meet his family, madly blushing. And like she’s learned with Chilchuck it’s all in the little things, all the implications he cannot speak aloud. She does reciprocate, does blush madly back, and the first thing she does is shower him in flowers and jewelry and what in her heart is coded as romantic gifts

A lady, stashed away in a high tower by her lonesome, waiting for someone to call out to her from below… Romeo courting type shit with an offer, a heartfelt spiel, implicit confession from underneath her balcony. Offering him flowers because he succeeded in calling out to her heart…….. And they have to climb to her too…. Crazy

Doesn’t it sound like a proposal. One that’s both so storybook-like and not, contrastedly real and grounded, all about the implications rather than in your face grand gestures, "Don’t you want to meet my family?". They literally have an arc about the topic of romance and this is the climax/pinnacle of it like god?? This is @ the woman who said "Chilchuck is a shy/bashful man so I know he wouldn’t tell me he loves me, but…" btw

To quote a friend, truly the shiny secret unlockable dating sim capture target : THE DUNGEON LORD BIT WAS SO FUNNY BECAUSE HE KNEW SHE'D TAKE IT HOOK LINE AND SINKER HES THE ONE WHO GOT HER TO TURN AROUND COMPLETELY SHES LIKE. WIDE EYED FLAG RAISED???? FLAG RAISED WITH CHILCHUCK 👀👀👀‼️👀👀‼️👀

And the way that this is the culmination of their arc together… Like people are not ready for the ‘Chil calling out to dunlord Marcille on the balcony has Romeo and Juliette romance novels imagery’ take. Or the ‘their arc is about growing to see beauty even in the non-idealized, in the flawed and in the real’ take which makes it so so perfect if she were to lower her ideal from a charming elven prince to a virtuous halfling man (which she does end up romanticizing)

So there, you got to witness in real time what happens when I think about marchil for longer than 2 minutes, there are so many layers it’s a deranged rabbithole. I saw the necronomicon of subtext and it’s driving me to madness with forbidden knowledge that no one else sees

……. Like what if I told you she implicitly picked Chilchuck over a "unrealistic prince charming who’s actually disingenuous" much earlier in the story already. If she was given the choice to think through going with a guy that seems perfect and chivalrous like her succubus she’d pick Chilchuck over the other actually. If I sound insane rn tune in for my full analysis on them coming this month hopefully thank youu. Interwoven arcs of fantasy vs reality and idealization vs pessimism I love youuu

So now you know the general thesis of my planned analysis about the importance of the prince charming figure in Marcille and Chilchuck’s arc, where she romanticizes things to a sometimes worrying degree or idealize people into something easy and digestible and poetic (like Chil being a kid, and then him being a virtuous ✨✨✨husband), and how she needs to value aesthetics less and actual acts and facts more, be more grounded (like seeing people for what they are flaws and all, and accepting that people need money and not pulling through on principles of honor or unity shouldn’t get Namari shamed) and a part of that is accepting that Chilchuck is BOTH flawed and virtuous, a loving husband that still has shitty moods and fumbled his marriage so bad etc etc. So it’s like, her image of perfect prince charming that will whisk you away on an ethereal romance -> realistic flawed middle aged dad with personality issues and a failing marriage but he still is worthy of love and having his cute grand romance story and his happy ending. Ik I keep repeating the same point through this but I need it to be burned into everyone’s brains it has its grip on me I can’t do this. They are so special……

[amielot]

They head back to the barn when the rain lets up.

@arialerendeair def gave inspo for this one hehe

[saphronethaleph]

Parahumans: A Measured Response

“Hey, L, you’ve got to see this!” Alec called, and Lisa groaned.

“Is this going to be you doing another headshot?” she asked.

“No, no, this genuinely is a big deal,” Alec replied. “It’s a big long video explainer thing, and, uh… I’m like five minutes in and this sounds like a big deal.”

“Fine, fine, whatever,” Lisa decided, thinking about the work she’d been doing for the Boss and how it really could wait for a bit.

Fuck him, anyway.

Besides, if it was some kind of big video explainer, she could get a fun few minutes out of taking it apart.

She locked her laptop and went through into Alec’s room, where he had his own computer on and was scrubbing back through a video.

“Okay, here we go,” Alec said. “It’s past the titles and stuff, this is where the first section starts.”

Lisa glanced down at the video scrollbar, and blinked.

“...Alec, this video is five hours long,” she said.

“Yeah, he’s outdone himself this time I guess,” Alec replied. “But the last one was, like, a hundred and ten minutes about autism and vaccines or something, so this isn’t that long in comparison.”

“It really is,” Lisa muttered, rolling her eyes. “Okay, let’s see if this is worth anything.”

Alec hit the spacebar, and the video began to play.

“Part one,” a British voice said, over a title card. “How do Tinker powers work. Spoilers: They don’t!”

Lisa blinked.

“Is this a conspiracy theory thing?” she asked.

“Shush,” Alec advised her, politely.

“I know, that’s going to immediately make me sound like I’m completely crazy,” the video creator went on. “How can Tinker powers not work when they clearly do? Well, that’s the thing, because Tinker powers are supposed to be about technology, but it’s been clearly and repeatably recorded in experiments going back decades that the technology Tinkers build only works when they build it.”

He threw up his hands, waving a sheaf of paper. “And I was as skeptical about this as you probably are, but I actually looked at the studies. The first one is by the British government, which did it in partnership with Oxford university, and – I know, but, listen, they sometimes do good research besides just coincidentally having one of their literature professors accidentally invent an entire genre…”

Lisa glanced down at the video bar again, which had barely moved, then frowned.

Her power hadn’t given her anything.

Well? She thought, gingerly poking the part of her brain that usually resulted in insights.

...section title is not incorrect, her power informed her, reluctantly.

“...Alec, what are the other section titles?” Lisa asked.

“You’re interested now, huh?” Alec asked, pausing the video, and showed the description.

“...part three: I might get black-ops’d for this,” Lisa repeated. “...the fuck? The leader of the PRT is a parahuman?”

Alexandria, her power stated.

“...fuck,” Lisa muttered. “Well, that’s not good… okay, unpause it, let’s see how bad this is going to get…”

Fortuna hit pause.

Two seconds later, the door opened, and Rebecca leaned in.

“What. The fuck?” she asked, then her gaze flicked to the screen of Fortuna’s computer. “Is that the video?”

“Yes,” Fortuna replied.

“How exactly could you let this happen?” Rebecca asked. “Have you seen what this video is about?”

“Yes,” Fortuna repeated. “The section titles make it quite obvious.”

“Yeah, the section titles make it obvious, all right,” Rebecca replied. “Section One: How do Tinker powers work, spoiler, they don’t. Section one point five, how does Dragon’s power work then. Section two: Wait, is Dragon an AI!?”

She pronounced the interrobang very well, and Fortuna looked up.

“Do you have a point?” she asked.

“Of course I have a point!” Rebecca said. “And I know you know that – you’re a precog, why are you asking?”

“Path to a productive end to the conversation,” Fortuna answered. “The next bit is that you continue listing off the section titles for rhetorical purposes.”

Rebecca’s eye twitched.

“Part two point five, why has nobody before figured out Dragon is an AI!?!?,” she recited, from memory, naturally. “With a bracketed subsection. We don’t count the Dragonslayers because they’re nutjobs. Part three: So I might get black-ops’d for this. Part three point five: Why has nobody before figured out the leader of the PRT is a parahuman? Part four: I absolutely will get black-ops’d for this.”

Rebecca paused, and glowered at Fortuna.

“Why was he even allowed to upload the video?” she asked. “Now that he’s uploaded it, then to… black-ops him is just going to make it obvious he was right.”

“Honestly I think it should be quite clear why by the time you reach the end of the video,” Fortuna replied, nodding at her screen, which showed that the pause bar was somewhere in the middle of section seven. “Though there may have been a flaw in Path To A Really Good Online Video.”

“You don’t say,” Rebecca muttered. “Didn’t it only come out half an hour ago?”

“Path to the Most Immediately Relevant Bits,” Fortuna answered, reasonably enough.

“You do realize he’s exposed us, though?” Rebecca went on. “Not just me, us. At least, I assume that’s why part five is called It’s a melting pot of every conspiracy, get it?”

Fortuna smiled, mysteriously.

“Stop it,” Rebecca grumbled. “And no, I’m not angry about part six, even though it’s called The Illuminati are really bad at conspiracies. Or part eight which is begging us to hire an eight year old as an advisor.”

“Part seven is actually the most relevant bit, for us,” Fortuna said. “So far he’s outlined three solutions to Scion which would be better than any plans we had before.”

Rebecca blinked.

“...are you sure?” she asked.

“That’s why part seven is called Apocalypse Soon,” Fortuna pointed out. “You should watch the video.”

“It’s five hours long,” Rebecca protested.

“Yes, which is why it’s fortunate that you’re going to have a lot of free time soon,” Fortuna replied.

[screebyy]

Part 3 wheeeee :)))))

and FYI Night of Ascents is referencing the Awoken's celebration on the anniversary of the day they left the Distributary, which was revealed in the Hiera Hodos lore tab that was released w/ this past dawning :)))

Prev | Next Part 1

Panel 1: In the dreaming city, Jolyon is leaning back casually against a white stone wall covered with green vines with pink flowers. His arms are crossed and he is looking down, lost in thought. Crow is walking around a corner towards him, up a rocky path with blue gemstones embedded in natural rock formations. It is almost dusk, and the setting sun is casting soft golden light and deep blue shadows on the scene. Crow: “Jolyon, hi…” Jolyon: “Hey.” Crow: “You wanted to talk?

Panel 2: Close up of Jolyon’s face. He turns his head towards the camera, to glance at Crow from the corner of his eyes. He looks sad and a little uneasy, like looking at Crow is painful for him. Jolyon: “...”

Panel 3: Jolyon turns his head away, looking off into the distance. His expression is not visible. Jolyon: “I used to live out here. When we first came to Sol.”

Panel 4: The landscape Jolyon is looking out at, split into two panels. On the left is the present day in the Dreaming city - the sun is setting behind a ridge, and a white set of stairs is visible winding up the mountainside. There is a white statue embedded in the rock, and there are trees and grass growing along the sides of the staircase. On the right, is the same ridge in the distant past, before the Dreaming City was created - the rocks are barren and desolate, and there is a crashed metal ship painted with red stripes that has long since been abandoned on the mountainside. The windows of the ship are glowing with light from inside. The silhouette of a tall person is inside the ship, opening a sliding hatch on the side of the ship to greet another, shorter person standing outside. Jolyon: “In the hull of an old cargo ship, just under that ridge.”

Panel 5: In present day, Jolyon is still leaning against the wall. He looks down and away from Crow, who is staring out at the landscape. Jolyon: “Before Mara and Riven reshaped everything.” Crow: “I remember...”

Panel 6: Close up of Jolyon’s face in profile. He is staring down at the ground, and looks distant. Jolyon: “...”

Panel 7: Jolyon looks back at Crow with a determined and slightly wary expression. Crow looks back at Jolyon, though his expression is not visible. Jolyon: “You told me about the Dawning. You remember what we celebrate here?” Crow: “Yeah…”

Panel 8: Close up of Jolyon from over his shoulder, as he looks at Crow. His face is not visible. Crow (offscreen): “The Night of Ascents.”

Panel 9: Jolyon turns back towards the ridge, looking up at it with a grave expression on his face. Crow looks away from him, glancing back up at the mountainside with a sad, distant Jolyon: “Do you remember coming here? The first one?” Crow: “...”

Panel 10: Close up of Jolyon, centered around his shoulder. Only the bottom half of his face is visible, and his expression is unreadable - he is still looking forward, out at the ridge instead of at Crow. Crow (offscreen): “I remember.”

Panel 11: Jolyon pushes himself up off the wall, and turns towards Crow. Jolyon: “Technically, it isn’t for a few more weeks, but….”

Panel 12: Close up of Jolyon, staring straight at the viewer. There is still a pained, sad expression in his eyes, though he looks like he’s trying to hide it. Jolyon: “Will you walk with me tonight?”

Panel 13: Close up of Crow, who looks surprised by the request. Crow: “Y-… Yeah.”

Panel 14: Wide shot of Jolyon and Crow climbing the white stone staircase that leads up the mountainside. Jolyon is a step ahead of Crow. Crow: “Of course.”