#and i refuse not to include artificer

[batnip]

Reversed Karma AU

A Rainworld Alternate Universe.

...

 The.. triple affirmative has been found- the affirmative that a ..solution has been found, the affirmative that the..solution is portable, and the affirmative that technical implementation is possible and generally applicable.

I remember that cycle... ancients swarmed the stuff, only privilege given to the founder, Sliver of Straw, was leaving us first.

And then cycle by cycle, our parents left..

Spoilered for absurd about of text, and general spoilers.

Saint never wanted to ascend anything. And by the time every last ancient was dead and gone, cycles passed, and structures fell. The green fuzzy thing was not once fuzzy, growing a coat as the rain sent by iterators stopped.

- - So it trailed along, guilty for what was not its fault, bringing iterators to life again. With a new name, [Pilgrim].

-- Footnote : Karma needs are reversed with the Pilgrim. Dying will up their karma, surviving will lower it. Secret passages will be added to cross gates you cannot with low karma, as it is needed to progress. =======================================

Rivulet is an odd case. I wanted them to obviously give rarefaction cells, as they did to Moon originally. So the tale goes they were created by a rebellious, younger Ancient who was fond of life and the cycle. One who refused the common ideals.

-- The swift little mouse they created, was given their own ability to create low-density rarefaction cells (singularity bombs) and refine them into more high-quality cells which the Ancient learned themself.

-- As soon as the news was spread to the general public of the triple affirmative, they sent the [Technician] out into the world, wearing several pearls describing their mission. ===========

Monk and Survivor lived with their colony, and were sent to scout a new home for the colony by the [Mapmaker]. They are named [Guard] and [Scout] in Reversed Karma. They brought Scout's two slugpups with them, even if the journey was dangerous, finding a new home for Scout pups was important to both Scout and their Sibling.

-- They find the tree in journey's end, Guard staying with the pups there as Scout tells the rest of the colony, including the leader, Mapmaker.

-- Footnote: Monk still brings Moon her cloak and several pearls. =========================================

The [Mapmaker] replaces Gourmand in Reversed Karma, making a map for their colony to follow. They are the leader of their colony.

-- Very similar to vanilla, leaving current living to the tree, showing the colony to the new home.

-- Footnote : Rain is beginning to return to normal, without cold mechanic. =====================================

The [Traveler] replaces Hunter in Reversed Karma, created by Five Pebbles to check on the local group. They spawn in the grounds of Unparralled Innocence. They do not have the Rot due to Five Pebbles more careful creation of a purposed organism compared to No Significant Harrassment.

-- Footnote : Cold mechanics are in work in these areas, as UI and CW were revived later than LTTM and FP.

-- Footnote : You may optionally visit Chasing Wind. ==========

The [Mother] replaces Artificer in Reversed Karma. Their slugpups are both alive, with the same explosive quality. They give Pebbles back his cloak and become a citizen after Sofanthiel locks onto them.

-- Footnote : Mother has bad reputation with scavengers due to passing tolls without payment before the campaign. They get a backspear due to one less hand slot having two pups.

-- Footnote : Rain has returned to normal.

-- Footnote : Mother has reduced food needs compared to vanilla Artificer due to needing to feed their pups. ===============

The [Messenger] replaces Spearmaster in Reversed Karma. They were created by Seven Red Suns to send messages between them and their friends, similar to [Traveler]'s check-ins with other iterators.

-- Footnote : Messenger has a mouth, and cannot duel wield spears.

================================================

A note from the OP: I hope you like them.. I've been wanting to show them off for a while. One of my headcannons for iterators was that the natural urges are coded into them with anti-ascension stuff. Like. Make ascension for us, but not for you. This is why they were wildly unsuccessful in finding the triple affirmative. Also.. Tumblr nuked quality of my image :c If u read all this and liked it perhaps a rb?? also hehe funny number thank u all

[tenderwatches]

summary: jayce deals with the aftermath of their fight—or tries to. Other factors (including Viktor himself) doggedly occupy his mind, which makes things difficult.

There is a particular sort of anguish in mourning someone who is still living. Jayce had stood before a grave when they buried his father; he’s known grief in his life, but whatever space it is that Jayce and Viktor are in now is colder than a tomb. It rattles at the cage of his bones like an animal left to die. He can feel something miserable scratching at the walls, but he is helpless to let it out and can only hope that the space between them will someday smother it. Until then, he doesn’t know that he can move on from it. It’s not the same weight he felt carrying grief forward with him. But what else is there for him to do with it all?

He presses his palm into the centre of his chest as he leans back at his workstation, watching dust dance across his vision. A pain sits there in the root of his body; it’s been there for years, of course. Viktor’s absence has been a slow knife, plunging into him in agonising inches over the time they’ve been apart. His return hasn’t removed it, only lodged it deeper. Not quite a killing blow but close; to hear the resentment he had assumed Viktor felt towards him stated so plainly is all of his worst fears come to life.

The turbulent emotions left from the argument still roil inside of him. Viktor’s bitterness and blame were to be expected—but somehow he hadn’t been ready for how different it would feel to stand in a room with his partner. After their brief and dismissive reintroduction to one another, he’d hoped maybe, possibly, a more private space would lend itself to a true conversation.

If he can just have the exchange he’s wanted to have with Viktor every day since they’ve been apart, then all of this would feel fixable. But it had all fallen apart from the very start. He can take Viktor’s accusations of betrayal—Jayce feels much the same about himself, but Viktor won’t listen to him. He wasn’t prepared to be refused the opportunity to even try. The accusations of his lack of care hurt the most, the way Viktor seemed certain that Jayce would have sacrificed him for something as petty and pointless as public approval.

The lamps have flickered on in his lab now. Distantly, sounds of Piltover’s wealthy thrum outside his window as they amble to and from the stately mansions in this part of the city.

Jayce is hardly aware of the impressions of the world moving around him. In front of him are a jumble of plans, nuts, bolts, and his personal journal. It’s a familiar chaos and yet, he’s a stranger to it. He’s still living in that room. Viktor’s scorn rings in his ears. He hears the way his name is shaped on his former partner’s lips—cold, impersonal, like greeting a particularly unpleasant stranger.

He hates it—and he hates that this is of his own making.

“Jayce?”

Sky Young is lingering at the door, concern on her young face; he wonders what expression he must be wearing to warrant that look from her. He makes a best effort at constructing an expression closer to his usual, but he’s never been good at hiding his feelings. At least, it warns Sky off of prying.

She clears her throat and shuffles forward. “Sorry to disturb you.” Her eyes cross over the mess on his desk, and he can feel her try and parse out what, if anything, he’d been working on. “But we did get the replacement orders in with the artificers… Unfortunately, they’ll not be available for another,” she pauses to consult her notes with a grimace. “Three months.” He huffs and rolls his eyes, and she shoots him a personal little smile that he can tell means she expected that reaction. “I know you said you could have them done in-house quicker, but we need your eyes on the next round of tests. The runic patterns are just… well… you’re the expert here. Thomas tried; I tried, but it’s not our area of study, and we can’t afford to keep replacing parts like this.” He sees her expression wince a bit; it’s obvious she thinks she’s overstepped. She lifts a hand to brush back a gentle curl that’s come loose from its style in a nervous gesture.

Jayce hums and takes the proffered plans from her. Reaching over to the notebook on his desk, he rifles through pages as he tries to pinpoint the report of the previous sequences his assistants have been running. Wherever the report is, he can’t find it, and he feels a sharp, irrational stab of anger at that. He’s on edge—of course he is, as he has been for months—as he is even more so now with the echoes of damning accusations ringing in his ears.

He takes a deep, steadying breath, tipping his face away from Sky. The young woman certainly doesn’t deserve whatever tart response is building on his tongue. “I’ll take a look at it, Sky. Just let me know once we get those components in,” he manages in a civil enough tone, eyes fixed on the plans in his hands.

She mutters a quick confirmation to him, and he hears her turn before she pauses at the door to look back towards him. “I heard, you know. That Viktor’s back,” she says softly, and Jayce’s eyes snap to her. “Will he be coming back here or… ?”

It takes everything in him not to say something ugly in response to that. Of course Sky would ask. She grew up right at the edge of the fissures. Viktor would never have been invisible to her as he seems to be in the upper echelons of Piltover society. In fact, it was his former partner’s recommendation tucked into her impressive personal resume of work that had encouraged him to hire her. Not that she would ever hear that fact from him. It was pathetic enough how he’d traced Viktor’s signature with the pad of his finger like a fool upon seeing it. Others don’t need to bear witness to every particularly humiliating impulse he’d had in their first months apart.

He composes himself and turns what he hopes is a winning smile on her, though from her expression, it probably lands closer to ghoulish than confident. “Oh, who knows, Sky? Doors are always open, of course.”

She blinks at him, and he curses that she is a clever sort who clearly sees through his admittedly terrible attempt at nonchalance. But her shyness wins over her keen perception of Jayce’s withholding nature, and she gives him a sharp little nod of her head. “Right. Well… goodnight.”

As soon as he hears the door close behind her, he folds. Pressing his face into his palms, shame nearly bowls him over. He hates how transparent he is, how he’s now sending his kind and reasonable lab staff scurrying from the room whilst he acts like a madman. He can’t sit here in the hurt of the past forever. The problem that is Viktor will remain; he’s had almost two years now to reconcile that. Viktor’s expected anger is another thing he’ll just have to endure. In the meantime, there are always mysteries to solve.

Abandoning his pursuit of the trial reports, he reaches for his journal and paces over to the chest that currently houses their supply of synthetic crystals, the front of which is embellished with the symbol of Clan Ferros. He slips in a key to peel back the lid, revealing contents that gleam as blue any natural hex crystal he’s worked with.

The first time he’d stumbled upon the original hex crystals, their energy had sung to him, power reaching for him like a warm hand. It brings him back to the moment magic saved him every time. But these crystals… unsettle him.

They are about the same size, smooth, and perfectly round, like the stabilised version Viktor and he had produced before their estrangement. They are significantly more volatile than even the raw versions of the crystals he’s used, and yet, still less powerful. Stabilisation remains an issue, but he’s no longer as concerned about levelling a city block with his mistakes. He knows that these are a creation of some deeply guarded process that Clan Ferros has perfected. Quietly asking around has revealed that they aren’t created topside, so he suspects they’re made somewhere below, slotted between chem-baron plants where they might avoid council oversight and scrutiny from the ethics board.

Beyond that, the synthetics feel hungry, wrong. But scientists don’t make decisions on gut feelings alone, and otherwise, the crystals are simply scientifically frustrating.

The urgency behind adapting them to Hextech is obvious. These crystals, produced by a powerful merchant clan, are vastly easier to procure than the ever-dwindling supply of hex crystals that Jayce has been sourcing for his work. The council has been footing that bill since the gates first opened in order to keep them operational. The unfortunate reality of a miracle like the Hexgates is that miraculous happenings are rarely going to be created without cost. In this case, the crystals themselves are consumed; each use of the Hexgate is another hex-battery destroyed. It’s costly to maintain, and only the extraordinary nature of what the gates have accomplished can offset it.

However, it’s not exactly a sustainable practice. Viktor and he, back when things were good between them, had discussed plans to accomplish this, but with his partner banished to the Undercity, the momentum of their work has cooled. Jayce is smart, a genius by any measure, and that is not just his ego talking; he trusts in his own mind well enough even in the fraught emotional state he’s in. But the two of them together are extraordinary. It’s no wonder the work is moving slower, that the hope for expanding projects and improving efficiency is getting less possible with the city always crying for novelty.

Clan Ferros discovering a way to synthesise something close to the magic that supports the gates promises to be a huge breakthrough that likely would have taken Jayce years to perfect on his own. It will be a triumph if he can manage to integrate it into the existing gates. The benefits are legion; it will drive down costs not just for the funding and operation of the Hexgates, but also for the use of them. He and Viktor had always talked about how cost efficiency could make the gates viable for standard trade instead of being too expensive for anyone but the city’s wealthiest

The idea that doing this work might be acting in service of their original dream has kept Jayce moving in his research on darker nights of the soul than this one. Sometimes the sorrow of what he lost paralyses him, but sometimes it is a raft, propelling him forward through the tumultuous waters of his own mind.

He decides to abandon stabilisation tests for the moment. With half the equipment nonfunctional, it’s less than wise to push it, and instead he brings a supply of crystals into the sealed chamber they use for temperature trials. He spends hours freezing and thawing, making careful notes of each reaction. It’s a more productive evening than he might have imagined after everything, and it’s near midnight when he finally relents, tucking away the supplies from his trials and notes.

He pauses, debating if tonight is the night to push himself, considering the upheaval of the day. Ugh, what the hell. Sleep will elude him as it is. Carefully, Jayce unlocks the desk drawer securing his most personal papers. The thin, early morning hours are the only time he can allow himself to indulge in this particular work—illicit research is best done without the implicating an innocent lab assistant, after all. Settling back into his desk chair, he flips through a series of notes he’s become all too familiar with, trying and failing to ignore how the sight of Viktor’s slender handwriting makes grief come alive in him. Instead, he settles in with a weary sigh and starts to re-read his partner’s words.

‘The nature of magic is not stagnant…’

𓊈 first chapter | previous chapter 𓊉 𓊈 next chapter on AO3 𓊉

AN: Thanks for reading 'Epitaph', chapter four of our fic, Lies We Tell Ourselves! i forgot to post this yesterday 😭 but!! we're up to chapter 17 on AO3 and have just gotten ANSWERS good golly, so please join us over there if you don't want to wait for the next chapter to be posted to tumblr (on tuesday!!)

[thatwasahumanperson]

okay. i was thinking about episode 11 of unend and i have some thoughts about mother artifice.

so we all know the mothers are fold wizards with weird powers. the way mother artifice seemingly immediately determined the answer to cleo's mystery game had me wondering if those powers included some sort of truthtelling. but then i started thinking about the way he reacted to hambing's trickery. and how he refused to lie even as part of a game. and then i started thinking about his name.

i've been assuming up to now that mother artifice is named such because of his skill at engineering - after all, he's been credited as one of, if not the, primary minds behind the invention of the foldlight. but mothers aren't named after what they do. they're named after the problem/ailment that they solve/cure. and artifice can also mean deception.

what if mother artifice's real specialty isn't engineering, but truth?

[nesiacha]

The jacobins executed by Bonaparte

The plot of the rue Saint-Nicaise 24 december 1800 who kill 22 people and 56 injured

Warning:

As always I could be wrong as a history buff so feel free to correct me. Special dedication to @aedesluminis without whom I would never have been able to have so much information on Bernard Medge.

Alexandre-Joachim Chevalier

It is frustrating to have so little information about the Jacobins executed by the First Consul Bonaparte. Among them was the artificer Alexandre-Joachim Chevalier, arrested in December 1800 before he and his group could kill Bonaparte. He was executed on January 11, 1801, along with Veycer, who had not manufactured the infernal machine of Saint Nicaise (even though they had intended to kill Bonaparte). When he learned he was condemned to death, he reportedly shouted "Long live the Republic" but was immediately taken away by the gendarmes.

According to the author Jean Louis Vissières, though this should be taken with caution, as this book imagines what Alexandre Joachim Chevalier might have said if they let him talk after he learned the death sentence , this man worked in Year II at the artillery workshop in Meudon to improve the weapons intended for the soldiers of the Republic. Outraged by the Coup of Brumaire, he became part of a group of Sans-Culottes opposed to Bonaparte, including Desforges, a former member of the Cordeliers Club; Juvenot, a former aide-de-camp to General Rossignol; Gombaut-Lachaise, an officer struck from the ranks by Bonaparte, who deemed him excessive; Didier, and others.

Fouché's police, comprising a large number of informers, quickly foiled the plot, and the group was arrested at the end of December 1800. Again, according to Jean Louis Vissières' book, it seems Chevalier knew he was convincing no one by asserting his innocence but amused himself by exasperating the police and magistrates. This strategy was all the more effective because it allowed him to deny the involvement of other Jacobins. For example, "You wrote on a piece of paper: I am going to kill Bonaparte." Chevalier replied, "It was just to try a pen. I wrote the first sentence that came to mind."

It seems that once incarcerated, he got along well with the royalists as companions in misfortune, given that they shared a common hatred for Bonaparte. This information should also be taken with caution, but it reminded me of the touching anecdote about the friendship that developed between Marie Françoise Goupil and Lucile Desmoulins (their husbands were enemies and they likely would have been too if not for the misfortune that struck them, allowing them to bond in the face of the horrific parody of justice that led these two women to their deaths).

Of course, it seems clear that he was involved in the plot to kill Bonaparte in reaction to Bonaparte's coup and the rise of dictatorship. However, it is important to note that he never built the infernal machine on Saint Nicaise Street as he was accused (the work of the royalists).

Bernard Medge

He was born on September 3, 1753, in Carcassonne. At 17, he joined the naval artillery in Toulon. In 1787, he was involved in a case of stealing a cup, experienced imprisonment, and left to establish himself as a tanner before rejoining the army in 1792. In 1793, Metge was appointed principal administrator by the representative on mission Richou, where he came into conflict with Roussel. During the Thermidorian Convention, while Roussel was rising in rank, Metge wanted to resume military life and sought a lieutenant's commission in the Gendarmerie, which was refused by the Committee of Public Safety and the Directory. His position was precarious, especially as he was now considered a soldier without regular leave and risked punishment as a deserter.

He came to Paris in November 1795 to assert his rights and grievances. He had not forgotten his goals regarding his military career.

In the winter of 1795-1796, Metge became increasingly politically left-leaning, engaging in public debates, particularly in pamphlets, including one printed by René-François Lebois, considered the New Friend of the People, titled "Dialogue between a Representative of the People and a Former Administrator." In this pamphlet, Metge criticized the Council of Five Hundred for disregarding citizens' opinions and appeared in a public hearing on the same day the Directory announced the discovery of the Conspiracy of Equals. Consequently, Metge was arrested upon leaving and incarcerated. He wrote to the Minister of Police, Cochon de Lapparent, asserting he had no connection with the Babouvists, was appalled by their ideals, and said, "Indeed, preach the sharing and equality of goods, and you will have the lazy."

In March 1798, he published his work titled "Project of a General Bank of Agriculture and Commerce." It was primarily addressed to "farmers, merchants, manufacturers, fabricators, bankers, and brokers." Here is an excerpt: "Guided by the example of trading nations, I thought the best way to lift commerce from the lethargy in which it languished was to provide all citizens, without distinction, the means to invest their funds advantageously, securely, and with honest profit without any risk; and to allow others to easily obtain the sums or advances necessary for the type of work or industry they practice, paying only the most modest interest" (page 1).

He praised free commercial contracts and insisted that the government should be independent of finances, aligning more with capitalism and liberalism, as Metge adhered to the Constitution of Year III. In August 1799, he once again attacked Sieyes (the first time being in 1796) and contested the validity of the election that allowed Sieyes to become a director. He wrote a pamphlet titled "Panegyric of Sieyes," which established Metge's notoriety but also marked the beginning of his downfall. He was considered one of the 34 anarchist leaders and was arrested along with the 20 deputies seen as the neo-Jacobin opposition faction on November 11, 1799, shortly after Bonaparte's coup, Sieyes, and Ducos.

For the fifth time, Metge was arrested on October 4, 1800. What sealed his fate was simply his opinion. He authored a text "The Turk and the French Soldier," which justified the Egyptians' right to resist Bonaparte and called for a new "Brutus." His printer, Delrue, was also arrested. Here is the incriminating excerpt from the text:

"The Turk: You French call us slaves, while you are so dull that you don't even realize you are a hundred times more enslaved than us. In my country, a general who committed even a thousandth of the crimes Bonaparte has defiled himself with would have paid with his head... Where is the man who, knowing his rights and dignity, would want to live under such a government? Yet they dare to speak of liberty and equality; what a derision! Governments know well that they are dealing with fools and cowards, for there isn't a single Brutus.

The Soldier: There will be thousands.

The Turk: So be it."

This offense of opinion became conflated with the "Opera Plot" and the "Dagger Conspiracy." Consequently, Jean-Louis Humber, Denis Chapelle, and Etienne Jallabert were arrested for the opera plot. For the dagger conspiracy, Ceracchi, Arena, Topino-Lebrun, Demerville, etc., were arrested. Madeleine Fumey and Flamant were also arrested, with Flamant seen as dangerous by the police because, according to them, he was "the confidant of the conspiratorial leaders, and he was also responsible for printing and distributing pamphlets against the government at the Jacobins on Rue de Bacq."

The confusion was orchestrated by Fouché and Prefect Dubois, especially regarding Chapelle, who founded a secret society, and Metge. The case was handed over to a government commissioner, Gauthier-Biauzat, who was perplexed by the lack of material evidence for planning Napoleon's assassination. The accusation was based only on threatening words, polemical writings, meetings, and worse, there had been resort to torture—yes, torture. In addition to Bonaparte reinstating the punishment of branding, Fouché's police committed illegal acts of torture, rolling back reforms even Louis XVI had abolished. Despite threats from Fouché, Commissioner Gauthier-Biauzat, a scrupulous jurist, to continue to dissociate the cases.

Nevertheless, Bernard Medge was executed with two others, following this parody of justice on January 20, 1801, just after the arrest of the royalist François-Joseph Carbon, one of the main instigators of the Rue Saint Nicaise attack on January 18, 1801. Ceracchi, Arena, Demerville, and Topino-Lebrun were executed on January 30, 1801.

What is interesting about Medge is how political alignments shift over time. He was a neo-Jacobin, a fervent republican, an early opponent of Bonaparte, and an admirer of Brutus, yet clearly opposed to the Babouvists. Instead, he claimed allegiance to the Constitution of Year III. While his ideas appeared more conservative for a political class in 1793-1794 (even extreme leftists could be quite lukewarm on property rights), he is considered to belong to the left wing in the political class 1795-1799 and was classified as an anarchist by the Brumairians. In "The Turk and the French Soldier," we see another dimension of Medge: he can be interpreted as opposing expansionist and conquest wars, especially in defending the Egyptians, but also as glorifying the right to resistance.

My reflections and interpretations: To me, this is proof that Bonaparte was more deceitful from the start than even the revolutionaries in their worst moments. While we often, and rightly so, speak of the parodies of justice carried out by the Committee of Public Safety (CPS) supported by the majority of the Convention against the Enragés, the Hébertists, the Indulgents (although we often forget that Thermidor was not as bright, especially the execution of the last Montagnards like Charles Gilbert Romme, Goujon, and others), with very dubious amalgamations and sometimes fabricated evidence; in popular films, we only talk about the assassination of the Duke of Enghien (again, rightly so) concerning Bonaparte. Yet he committed far worse. As I said, although there were horrible figures during the French Revolution and the CSP committed questionable acts in an infernal internal and external situation to save the revolution, Bonaparte committed unforgivable acts in a much better situation just a month later, aiming to consolidate his power. Worst of all, he was a Jacobin And it truly took very little time for him to betray his former comrades—whereas the revolutionaries took longer to engage in internal struggles—for power. Not to mention the use of torture, an unforgivable act, and one abolished by Louis XVI. It is truly a step backward and more than unforgivable that Fouché's police practiced it on someone regardless of their convictions, whether royalist or republican.

Regarding the Jacobin Alexandre Joachim Chevalier, there was likely an attempt to murder Bonaparte. But didn't Napoleon himself say, "If I am treacherous, let all be Brutus," during the coup d'état? Wasn't he treacherous by betraying everything the French had given their lives for, and consequently, didn't the Jacobins have good reason to resent him? So, technically, he shouldn't be angry with the Jacobins who saw through his game from the start. Let us not forget that Medge was executed for the offense of opinion against Bonaparte. This demonstrates that ultimately, the 18 Brumaire was not as well-received as it seemed, whether by royalists or republicans.

The parodies of justice were worse under the CSP and led to the enactment of rather horrific laws: on January 5, 1801, without trial, 130 Jacobins were accused of complicity in the Rue de Saint Nicaise attack and were deported to the Seychelles without trial (including Felix Lepeletier), half of whom would die there (it was seen as worse than execution). Not to mention the arrests and detentions suffered by Marie Anne Babeuf and Simone Evrard after so much misfortune had already befallen these two militant women.

When it came time to draw up a list, Bonaparte called upon his former colleagues, the Septembrists. Did he forget that he was one of them (of the Jacobins, not the September Massacres) to deport them? Several state counselors said the assembly would never authorize this and that it had no competence. Talleyrand and Cambacérès then appealed to the Senate under "defense of the Constitution" measures as I understand it.

On February 7, 1801, the crimes of seditious assembly, rebellion, assassination, and brigandage became punishable by special tribunals; these courts did without juries and were not subject to appeal or cassation*. It was even worse than the justice of the revolutionary tribunal.

I strongly condemn assassination attempts, even against a figure I dislike as much as Bonaparte, for obvious moral reasons. If some Jacobins wanted to do it, it was the wrong way; even if they had succeeded, it would have opened the door to another dictatorship in my opinion. It was necessary to rally the masses again and start a new revolution. But I must point out that the movements were full of informants and often fabricated cases.

It is clear that Napoleon did not care whether they were truly guilty of the Rue de Saint Nicaise attack; he wanted to get rid of them, probably to further discredit Fouché in the eyes of the Jacobins (though Fouché needed no help in discrediting himself) and perhaps to provide assurances to the right and maybe tell his opponents, "This is what awaits you if ever…." In any case, he struck on all sides and eventually found himself alone, so when he really needed help, few allies were there for him (compared to Marat, who was arrested, and all of Paris rushed to his aid, or even when Robespierre, Saint-Just, Couthon, and Le Bas were arrested, 17 out of 49 sections wanted to help them without them asking for anything). Karma is harsh and finds its origin in this tragic affair, which would only be the beginning of a long list of grievances against him. Thats why I think Bonaparte didn’t care to save the revolution when he make the coup, it was above all for power.

I am not saying that Napoleon was a bloodthirsty man as often depicted by English propaganda. It is a black legend that needs to be combated, but I want to emphasize that while we often spend time condemning the acts of the revolutionaries (often rightly so, I am not absolving them), we exonerate Napoleon and his acts, which I believe were ten times worse.

Finally, I urge everyone who wishes to find more information about these Jacobins who were shot or died in deportation because it is always interesting to learn more about these forgotten figures of history and I can be wrong.

*https://www.napoleon-empire.net/chronologie/chronologie-1801.php

Sources  :

Excerpt from Bernard Gainot's text Un itinéraire démocratique post Thermidorien Bernard Medge

[witchlingcirce]

What do you think is TSC’s darkest book/series or Plot-line?

I personally think Cassandra’s darkest book is Queen of Air and Darkness, as some of her darkest scenes/plot-points/dialogue where in there (excluding not also including some of Sebastian’s scenes in TMI).

It got to the point where her writing these things had gone from inconspicuous to outright offensive. I don’t mind the mature change, but it was just noticeable, you know? The comment Dane Larkspear made about a 13 year old Dru and him asking Dearborn personally to ‘keep her’? The suggestion that Sebastian and Jace were ‘playing’ with with rebels that look like a dead Clary? Manuel-and his whole weird sadist obsession with Zara- hiding under a corpse? Poor Ash being abused and manipulated constantly?

That book was heavyyyyy I swear

TW: mentions of Rape

Darkest books?? Definitely the dark artifices series!! Those books felt so much more serious and more new adult than young adult, I loved them so much!! I personally think there Cassandra’s best work.

However, anything to do with Sebastian Morgenstern has to be her darkest stuff yet!! I feel as tho it’s not mentioned as much due to the fact the mortal instruments is definitely written in a more YA way.

1. Has actual attraction towards sister

2. Tried to rape that sister

3. Torturer

4. Murderer

5. Racist! (The way he refused to turn Mark because he was half fae 😰)

His cruelty and atrocities are even more present in the Thule plot.

This is one the most despicable things I have ever read😭. Pretty red head, like his sister? Also implying that he made Jace play with them to? (This has to be rape of some kind, also mental manipulation) I can’t imagine how scared those poor girls must have been 💔.

Not to mention that he literally killed Max.

I know this isn’t a specific plot line, but I really do think Sebastian is the most wicked villain she will ever write. Thule is just an example of that as well!

Also, him literally turning shadowhunters into like dark versions of themselves is so wicked. Turning Amatis to get back at Luke?? Turning the Blackthorns father and than having him go after the rest of the family?? WICKED.

The only thing he ate?? The red shadowhunter gear.

Small jokes aside and also a quick rant: I absolutely hate how the fandom treats him like he was just “misunderstood” or “wronged”. I agree we should be sympathetic to the fact he was abused as a child and manipulated, however he STILL MADE THESE DECISIONS GROWING UP! He chose to abuse clary, he chose to abuse Jace. He chose to ruin so many families lives (The blackthorns, the lightwoods, Clary’s life, his army killed Cristina’s dad SO MUCH MORE.) he’s a bad person, it literally says in the book that his good self never got to exist, which is sad but I hate how people think that moment defines his whole character.. it doesn’t 😭. Like yeah it’s sad we never got to see him be a good person, but that’s it.

Sebastian Morgenstern I HATE you and they can never ever ever make me like you!

This is such an amazing ask Pookie!! TYSM for letting me rant 😎.

[a-rabid-snake]

Intense thoughts, mention of death

My original gift for the new year was to order hand-sew stuffed animals, and I even drew detailed sketches for them so that there would be no mistakes.

These were slugcat, all the characters from the game, including slugpups Artificer's

But after the death of my cat, the one who treated me with simple patience and lived with me for six years, I asked my dad to exchange my gift for another, I gave up the memories to get another kitten.

For me, soft toys are very important to me. They're like a part of my memories that I only remember because of them. But having given them up, just for the sake of a living being who will have a good home, care and owners, I still torment myself thinking about the correctness of my action.

I had such doubts only once and for a split second, when I refused to let my other cat's newborn kittens be killed, promising to take full care of them myself.

And now, yes, I promised myself that I would take care of Murzik's grave when the snow melts. But it's like I'm doing something wrong. I do not know if I am doing the right thing by wanting to get a new cat after the old one has died. I still miss Murzik so much.

My thoughts torment me, asking, "Am I doing the right thing? " and "would my other cat like me to have someone else after his death"

[lazarus-afterdark]

Lazarus's Profile

(Every time I went on Jeanz's profile(<3) I was like damn I really need to do this for Laz, so here's me getting off my ass and doing this properly. Details and military file below readmore)

(To Be Updated)

Nationality: Australian

Race: Mixed

Ethnicity: Hispanic

Born: February 14

Age: 38 years old

Name: Salazar Blackthorn.

Alt. Names: Lazarus (Current Callsign), [Redacted], [Redacted]

Pronouns: He?/Him? (he doesn't fully understand what pronouns are, he'd probably just nod and respond with whatever you called him including neopronouns. There's probably gender fuckery there that he hasn't figured out)

Alignment: RAEME(Royal Australian Electrical and Mechanical Engineers), Australian Army, Australian Defence Force (ADF), TF141(partnered), Japanese Special Forces Group(partnered,past)

Rank: Lieutenant (ADF), Artificer Sergeant Major (TF141),

Orientations: Polyamourous Bisexual

Height: 6'11 (213cm)

Build: Hourglass, but a bit hard to tell considering how bulky they are. Simular in build to König if you need a reference.

Eye Color: Dark brown

Hair: The base is a curly black, but the edges are burnt straight, making it seem almost wavy. Hair curls up around his ears, but if pulled at it goes down to his shoulders, allowing him to tie it into a ponytail when he needs to.

Misc. Appearance Details: [dark] light skin, arm band tattoo, heavily calloused fingers, minor (and not so minor) scars of all kinds litter his body like a tattoo tapestry,

Revealed Appearance Details: Y shaped scar on torso (iykyk)

Notes/Headcanons:

Joined the 141 as part of the alliance between countries, being part of Australia's inclusion (and thus was hired by Laswell)

Lazarus seems to have a poor opinion of anyone who uses his first name

Due to at one point cooperating with the Special Forces Group he became lightly obsessed with Asian foods

Favorite alcoholic beverage is Sex on the Beach, he will never admit this

Favorite non-alcoholic beverage is Jarritos Sangria

Will carry anyone if asked

Chronic Pain, which his job certainly does not help

Does weights and maintains his physique literally just because he wants to carry around his men

Enjoys foods with strong flavors and only hints of sweetness

Has a little garden, someone else has also been taking care of it, but he doesn't know who

His favorite constellation is Lupus

He loves animals but refuses to own any

His garden has a nest of sparrows now, they get along relatively well

[ellianes]

⟡ Let me introduce you to my OCs from Baldur's Gate 3, who I love with all my heart and plan to show a lot of content (old and new) with them! I also apologize for any troubles in the text, English is not my native language.

⟡ My “Latander-kissed” boy named Lann, a fighter, believes in Latander, loves good food (sweet melissa tea and hot bread? He's in!). An incorrigible optimist, solves all problems for you by scattering enemies in different directions with a two-handed sword. Sometimes finds problems on his ass, but solves them exclusively by himself, with humor and memes. Infinitely kind, loves animals. All Elixir of Cloud Giant Strength will be drunk by him. His hand was here on the card.

⟡ Ray. Artificer, thanks to this mod. A punctual alchemist who tries to make time to live his life productively. Elven longevity isn't enough for him, huh. Loves discipline, cleanliness, and he is a bit selfish, but that doesn't stop Ray from being a caring nerd to his party. Watches his appearance more than anyone else, likes perfume with lavender and mint. Has an electric homunculus cat, which he has named simply Cat (Kot in russian). The Cat often gets in his way, wreaking havoc at the alchemist's home.

⟡ Nor. As it turns out, he was named after the dark elf deity from Spellforce, which I loved as a kid. Nor is a Dark Urge who has taken the path of good. An oathbreaker paladin who writes his own story, which though full of grief and horror, has a good ending. In my headcanon, Nor after the BG3 storyline, purchases a house on the outskirts of Baldur's Gate overlooking the city, where he cultivates flowers, including lilies, which remind him of his adoptive mother, who was a dwarven herbalist. As someone with borderline disorder, Nor for me has a special place in my heart as a beacon in the hardest times of my life - he reminds me that even from the darkest places of the mind, a way out can be found. I also have a tattoo dedicated to him: an image of two lilies and stars from the garb of a paladin of the Oath of Vengeance. Nor's hand was also featured on a card here.

⟡ Tjorsaudalur. The classic Dark Urge, a white dragonborn sorcerer who was my choice for an evil walkthrough, managed to refuse Baal's will at the end, but as the epilogue showed, it caused him terrible suffering and loss of his identity. I'll be honest, I was shocked by the epilogue. After it, Tjor's identity took on a special meaning for me. Now I can't perceive his image in any way other than as a big and traumatized fragile sorcerer. The trembling and uncertain voice that the character editor offers, as well as the character's introduction further cemented this association. I want to surround Tjor with care, make warm tea, and pay for a therapist. And plant some flowers to grow next to Nor to calm the mind. I drew Tjorsaudalur here, but that was before the epilogue.

⟡ Thank you for reading and paying attention to my characters!

[ask-the-tlm-deities]

38 and 55 for everyone! I want to hear •all• of the juicy stories!

-Unraveling Artificer

38: tell us about your pet peeves!

🌾 When Bruce and Dick leave the toilet seat up.

🗡 Customers who are rude to a store's employees.

🪙 Long meetings that could have been covered in one email. It's such a waste of time and I have enough to do as it is.

📜 People who think they're being sneaky, walking out of my shop with an item they're intending to use to do someone harm, then coming back to scream at me that it didn't work. Duh, it didn't. I told you before you even paid for it that it requires consent from all parties to be of any use.

🪡 Drivers that don't use their turn signals. That's kinda dangerous...

🌑 Men who think they can talk over me just for being a woman. They learn real fast I don't put up with that nonsense for a second.

☀️ Flat earthers. 'Nough said.

⚓️ Fishin' companies that just leave their damaged nets in the ocean instead of fixin' or properly disposin' of them. I may not be an all-powerful god anymore but I can still rain Hell down on their heads!

💠 "Psychics".

💀 People who don't pull over for emergency services on the road. Much like the idiots who refuse to use their turn signals while driving, you're putting someone's life at risk.

🛶 People who don't give their deceased loved ones a measly 2 coppers to pay their toll. I kinda got it when they were a lot harder to come by, but these days they're literally a dime a dozen. Come on guys, it's just two pennies. Right on the eyelids, so they can find them without problem.

55: what's the most dramatic thing you've ever done to prove a point?

🪙 Ah... Not so much to prove a point, but to try to get someone's attention- fooled around with 2 human women to try to make him jealous. And just my luck he never even noticed until I finally said something.

🪡 Made a very dramatic entrance and flirted with the woman who'd already thrown me off the mountain. ;)

🌑 Ugh don't remind me, I still feel awful about that...

☀️ Ate a pomegranate. ;D

🗡 Summoned my sword to intimidate some guy who was being a MASSIVE jerk and not only verbally abusing every employee in the immediate vicinity, but making this poor old lady with severe anxiety a complete nervous wreck. He shut up REAL fast.

🌾 There's not a single day that goes by in the Wayne household where I don't have to be dramatic to make a point. Seems to come with the territory of being the only woman in a mansion full of broody men. That doesn't include Alfred of course, he's a doll.

⚓️ Used up every ounce of magic in me reserves to intimidate a commercial fishing vessel that was just dumping trash overboard left and right. Put me out of commission for a month, but it was worth it.

💀 Kicked Rex's and Lucy's asses in a two-on-one match.

📜 Kidnapped the Sun and accidentally plunged the whole world into war because I knew two certain doofuses would hit it off.

[joons]

really having a time today, but i've been reading ... i suppose you'd call it elvis historiography, the history of the way narratives about him have been set from the beginning with little pushback. and it strikes me how easy it is to titter about how outlandish the criticism of him was in the '50s, the pearl-clutching about dancing and the sneering dismissiveness of everything he represented (which is often a list of things that CRITICS were uniquely worried about, but which had nothing to do with what ELVIS thought he represented), and think it shows something uniquely weird about the 1950s that we are well beyond! nope! we are not! the attitude of refusing to give elvis a place of respect, either as a cultural force, an artist, or simply a human being, has always been there, and only the language shifts with time. the founding lies build on one another, in a way that may not be obvious when the criticism shifts from religious to psychological terms. he's always on the wrong side of the racial divide, he's too liberated, he's too repressed, he's too vulgar, he's too buttoned-up, he's too original, he's too boring - anything to put him back in his place, for the critic to view themselves as better than him in some way. whether it's through his music, movies, private life, it doesn't matter, what is important is that elvis needs to be isolated, shamed, neutralized. make him a joke so that whatever power he seems to have no longer matters. the early lies don't have to be true, they can just be reframed (and oh, honey, you can literally track the bad authors who cite each other). he is america's sins, even the ones we no longer count, even the ones we haven't thought of yet.

and that reminded me of this quote from jane elliot, who acted alongside him in change of habit:

“Elvis … learned that, because of who he was and people’s preconceived ideas of who he was, there was always a chance he was going to bring the worst out in somebody—that they were going to take pot-shots at him. In order to be comfortable in his own skin, he had to understand their compulsion to knock him down a level, and that included me.”

elvis understood that his fame prevented him from being known and that it put a target on his back for everyone to kick. and he was kind about it. he constantly put himself in the shoes of the people who wronged him and forgave them when they didn't deserve it. and it's kind of wild to me how brave and hard that was. how it was a mark of his humanity and agency when everyone was telling him his success was pure luck, based on plagiarism or passivity. it's remarkable how much his attitude and grace shine through, becoming more extraordinary and gentle and compelling the more people hate him. the sincerity is something that, like, devastates people who want to believe that success is a cruel calculation, that you can't get to the top without being like them. elvis was never like that. worse, he made them feel bad about being like that. everything that has happened since is people trying to get him back. for caring about people and about music with no artifice.

[crunchetime]

Abel Twelve Peaks [he/him]

Loxodon Fighter, Psi-Warrior

An exiled warrior from distant lands, Abel Twelve Peaks is a powerful, stoic loxodon with with a booming voice that belies his peaceful demeanor. He rarely raises a blade to solve a problem, but when he feels he must, he will bend gravity and the minds of his foes to his will, distorting the battlefield to put him in ultimate control. In his day-to-day, however, Abel is a gentle giant who excels in his warmness, soothing tensions among his peers and sharing in the joys of their revelry...

...all this is to say: Abel is a fearsome fighter wise beyond his years and a beloved compatriot, but where exactly he came from is a mystery. He refuses to answer any questions about his past, and does so with a grave, intimidating tone. It seems as though he wants to leave that past behind, and as long as it doesn't come knocking, folks aren't quick to complain.

[when you make a elephant man whos also kinda a babygirl]

[For those just joining us, I made a list of D&D ocs with one based on each playable class, including Artificer and Blood Hunter (14 total). Then, I decided to make a second set. As of typing this, I'm close to finishing a third set, bringing the total oc count for this list up to F O R T Y - T W O (42). Someone Help]

[littlegermanboy]

Who on earth is jeff. I’m curuous

OH I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED. jefferson (jeff) arthur callivan is my character for a dnd campaign i'm in run by my dear friend edgar. he's a half elf rogue (which i did not know was a stereotype until like. a few weeks ago. i made him over a year ago) who is a journalist from a small tight-knit poor family of incredibly awesome people, including his hot awesome cool battlemaster fighter mother charmona callivan, his deeply bald and unserious alchemist artificer step-dad leobald callivan, and his incredibly strange wild magic sorcerer (half) sister bones callivan (bones isn't her real name) (she is also another player character) as well as his gay slut wood elf circle of shepards druid dad mellavi who has like. hundreds of children and loves them all dearly and is present in every single one of their lives. he's my favorite npc in the campaign i love him so much.

his plot relevant back story is that his family was struggling with bills and such and he was approached by this guy karsis valker to do work for him involving doing research on certain people, which jeff thought was extremely sketch but the money was too good to refuse so he took the job but he later found out that his work was being used to murder people wanted by this organization called the children of amity which is currently run by religious zealots largely worshiping the god of nature and creation (though it wasn't always like this, it used to be a peaceful organization). so jeff is obviously shocked and disgusted and quits his job and then after that things happen that i can't post about here bc it's backstory secret spoilers for my friends who are playing with me but it traumatizes jeff so badly he takes his sister and runs away to a different continent to try and find the last person he was assigned to research (isaac turner, another player character) to warn him that the children are after him. i could get into more about the children and what they do but that's not 100% relevant here but the plot of the campaign is that the characters are working with a rebel organization trying to take down the children of amity

anyway jeff carries a lot of guilt for being apart of so many peoples' murders as well as for what happened after they quit their job to an extent that's definitely past being helpful and is only self destructive. they haven't told anyone they're close to what happened which was very much the worst option they could have chosen because it's something they Need to know but because of how traumatizing it was for jeff they're horrified that people will blame them for what happened and that they won't be forgiven, and they also haven't told them because they think that it'll protect them in some way.

currently in-game his sister bones is very upset at him for not telling him what's going on, his parents (mom & step-dad) are tracking the two of them down because after he and bones left home they found out what happened to jeff and are extremely worried about their children, and jeff recently found out that his dad mellavi was a member of the children of amity when they were basically a peaceful bible study for their god who he also worships but he wasn't able to leave once they were taken over by zealots bc they kill people who leave because of how small and secretive it is and he wanted to protect his family so he joined the rebel organization as a spy to still help resist against them, but he recently left both organizations which is very concerning to jeff because one massive thing about him is that he loves his parents more than anything and his dad is his biggest role model.

but anyway yeah tldr jeff is my sweetie pie who loves his family and loves his friends and will do anything for them and is very deeply unhappy right now. but i love him. i could probably say more about him but i'll leave it at this for now. if you ever have any more questions about jeff please feel free to ask he's my specialest he/they ever.

(art on the left is his combat mini drawn by edgar @graciouswings, art on the right is mine)

[randomfaeriedragon]

Hey, guess what I did this week?

Thats right, draw 3/5 OC Iterators that began growing in my brain on a photoediting program with my computer's touchpad!

This is the first time I've ever really drawn something digitally other than my profile pic & rw brainrot, and it's definitely the first time I've designed iterators, so yeah! Enjoy the art and subsequent Lore dumps under the cut :)

Iterator 35, Gen. 2: Shaded Pewter Lights / SPL

Built at the base of a dry, desert-like mountain, SPL preferred to occupy their time with huge, complex mechanical experiments rather than genealogical or Acension-based research. They despise thinking about the Great Problem, as no one can experiment if they're all dead, though they don't dislike iterators who attempt to solve it (for that reason alone). Their city used to harbor and attract skilled mechanics and engineers for miles around, as a particularly prodigous university was located on their can. Though they rarely interacted with their citizens, they often miss the requests they sent them, especially those sent by the less experienced artificers of their city; however, they feel little love for the Ancients beyond appreciation for their skill in mechanics (the skill required to build the iterators).

In the past, SPL has repeatedly set up projects within their can that could only be described as titanic Rube Goldberg Machines. SPL often sought to improve the functionality of their can with these experiments (plus having fun), keen to observe and record as much data as possible from the cycles-long whirring of cogs and water wheels before setting everything up again to repeat. Their main goals included lowering their needed water intake, gaining a form of low-power mode for bad weather, and utilizing lightning as a secondary power source. Though many saw these modifications as taboo, SPL couldn't care less, blocking almost all communication during their experimentation era: however, they often shared their knowledge with APS to assit in the creation of the wildlife santuary on his can, and many of the conduits used to water plants there are of their design.

Due to an integral flaw in the rerouted void fluid piping of their Easternmost Leg, SPL's can collapsed in the middle of a heated arguement with their local group, with their Westernmost Leg piercing through their can. With rust and sand permeating their structure, their many mechanisms fell silent for the first time since the Ascension. Although SPL is still connected to their can, overseers, and local communications arrays, they can no longer induldge themselves in experiments; they barely have enough power function as is. They now spend most of their time chatting with other iterators in their local group, sending overseers to APS's sanctuary, and attempting to prevent further discoloration and rust on their puppet. They're not usually bitter, but particularly vulgar arguements with EN can send them into a spiral.

SPL still feels they did the right thing in modifying their can. Though the other iterators refuse to admit it, the main reason they still function is due to the modification of their can.

Iterator 77, Gen. 3: Rain from Clear Skies / RCS

Although he often jokes around, RCS is the most calm and collected of his local group. He often finds himself mediating fights between his local group (read: SPL and EN) for this reason, as has the astonishing ability (within his local group at least) to sit back, consider something fully, and make mostly objective decisions. He also uses this ability to point out details many other iterators overlook, so is often called for help with malfunctioning software and to explain why some experiments went wrong. His citizens instilled him with a love for quiet and time to contemplate, and they had a moderately positive relationship, so often misses them. But when he isn't meditating or recording data from around his can, he's talking with EN. They have soft spots for each other.

His name comes from the already heavy rainfall in the region where his can was built, which his construction didn't help; very little non-semi-aquatic wildlife remains around his can. However, he often moderates the remaining flora and flauna to insure it's continued survival, and has sent more than a few wounded animals to APS so she can assit in their recovery. When he's not researching, RCS also acts as the jokester of his local group, and often codes pranks and malware intended to cause harmless irritation into sent messages. He's gotten quite good at it, to his local group's endless infuriation (and delight). He doesn't send these to SPL, though, as their systems likely wouldn't be able to handle the repairs.

Iterator 16, Gen. 1: Even Nightfall / EN

As one of the earliest iterators built, EN's city was particularly religious and pious, priding themselves on their virtue and detachment from the material world. This did not bode well for EN, who had an almost abusive relationship with their citizens; they treated EN as something to deal with their problems and nothing more. After they Ascended, EN felt both a weight off their shoulders and, for a reason he can't pin down, a profound sense of betrayal that their creators abandoned them. Though a few in their local group see them as nothing more than cruel and callous, EN is very emotinally reserved (but also very, very smug) and astoundingly protective and kind towards those they care for. This includes RCS, their genticially modified slugcat Arps, and to some extent APS.

APS acted as a sort of mentor to EN when they were built, helping them manage their city's requests and sneak in a few personal projects on the side. While their city didn't approve of the projects they found, and reprimanded EN, the number EN kept secret far outnumbered those discovered by the Ancients. With their creators gone, EN found a hobby genetically modifying the pre-existing wildlife around their structure, and has improved their already impressive skills; this lead many genticially modified organisms to spread out and inhabit EN's can, and is also where Arps came from.

Named after APS, Arps acts as a mix between a therapy animal and pet for both EN and RCS. Arps frequently travels between EN and RCS's cans, and EN gave them the ability to glide to ease this passage; however, they (and RCS) also always send an overseer along with Arps to ensure their safety. Even when Arps is simply gliding between trees in the Rainworld Equivalent of a Sparse Pine Forest surrounding EN's can, he always sends an overseer to make sure they're OK. They're almost overbearing!

EN and RCS are perhaps the closest out of any of the iterators within their local group, and frequently chat or play 7-dimensional chess for entire cycles before they have to check up on an experiment so it doesn't explode. Though they couldn't talk much and weren't nearly as close pre-Mass Acension, RCS was one of the few iterators who spent the time to work around EN's colony's communication restrictions and talk to them. He was a great comfort, and one of the only reasons EN didn't crack under their city's pressure.

Not Featured Here: (bios will get out eventually)

Iterator 4, Gen. 1: A Profound Serenity / APS (Any Pronouns)

Iterator 84, Gen. 3: Tide Rolling In / TRI (She/Her)

Arps (They/It)

Probably One or Two More Iterators

CREDIT WHERE CREDIT IS DUE: I used an Ancient script by @ikayblythe for the displays by my iteratoes, took heavy inspiration from iterator designs by @altitudeofalcatraz, and took the idea of Iterator Number Deisgnations from Daszombes' Iterator Logs on Youtube.

Anyways, I'm going to go drop off the face of the planet for a week. Thanks for reading this much this far, goodbye!

[immortalarizona]

so today’s session was a little wild.....

in vaguely chronological order, the following events occurred:

the party one-shot SO many goblins in that one random encounter I planned to introduce the artificer with. like they only have 7 hp but DANG

tarokka readings from a kalashtar sorceress, because the module is my bitch and I do what I want

I got to see the bastard man behind the mask for the first time!!! (during the tarokka readings, which were one-on-one, the bard showed a bit of his true self, and it was DELIGHTFUL)

after her own reading, the fighter is now suspicious of EVERYONE EXCEPT THE BARD, WHO THE CARDS WERE WARNING HER OF ABOUT AS EXPLICITLY AS THEY COULD

speaking of misconceptions, the rogue player is now convinced that Jimjar is secretly evil. this is probably not helped by the fact that the sorceress REFUSED to give him a reading because She Recognized What He Was (A FUCKING GOD)

through a series of truly god-tier medicine checks, the artificer took the vial of holy water I forgot I had given Morwenna and, after testing the effects on some goo the party had collected from a spore servant earlier, injected the rest of the vial into Sarith’s carotid artery in the hopes of destroying the fungal infection in his brain

part of Sarith’s brains may or may not have leaked out through his eyeballs during the hellish minutes that followed

Stool may or may not have raised Sarith from the dead as a quasi-spore servant when mouth-to-mouth, CPR, and an impromptu defibrillator in the form of Shocking Grasp failed to restart his heart

Sarith’s heart Still has not started, in fact

(and it never will again)

because my man is now Reborn Lineage: Plant Edition™

and he also remembers Basically Nothing!

(which reminds me, I need to draw his new look)

also we finally made it to Sloobludop and we all broke down laughing as I failed miserably at pronouncing these fucking names with a straight face

everyone is bored with Derendil, including me. he will not survive longer than two sessions, I can guarantee that

tl;dr — madness and mad science :]

[dollarbin]

Dollar Bin #40:

Lucinda Williams' Running Down A Dream

As the self-appointed Lord of The Dollar Bin I do not sing karaoke. The closest I come is bellowing out Love Shack on the bike ride to work/school with my daughter, much to her horror and amusement. Why Love Shack? I don't know. The song just floats my entire flotilla of boats.

But when it comes to karaoke, there's only one human being I would eagerly listen to rocking the mic, and that's Lucinda Williams. She's Tom Waits without artifice; she's my Dodgers as soon as Clayton Kershaw retakes the mound; she's my sainted wife with a flamethrower.

And so I've always been on the Dollar Bin watch for Running Down a Dream, Williams' Covid-era toss off Tom Petty tribute album. I've never been willing to drop $30 for it, ever. But $15 while on vacation for a three sided record, even if it's nothing more than Lucinda offering up Petty's lyrics via teleprompter while assorted young men act like The Heartbreakers? Yeah, sign me up.

At least for me, the legend of Lucinda Williams still begins with the Rolling Stone review of Car Wheels On A Gravel Road in the late 90's. Back then the magazine was a meaningful authority rather than an endless series of pop up ads for sex toys and the equally dumb Foo Fighters. And so that review introduced me to Williams as a feminist savant, a mature woman who could sing about masturbation and make it high, perfected, art.

Well, it's 26 years later and Williams no longer dwells in the perfectionist camp, refusing to put out records until they are impeccable. Gillian Welch took her place on the perfectionist throne late in the Oughts and hasn't let go yet.

Let's get into this record:

The first three songs are freakin' awesome. This is not karaoke; this is Lucinda Williams finally delivering a big deal rock and roll record.

She opens with Rebels, Petty's personal, problematic and deeply poetic rewrite of The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down. The song marks the end of Petty's mid-80's, heavy cocaine, first smashing into a wall, era; sitars, skateboarders and vampires soon took over. As such the song comes complete with allusions to "blue bellied devils" who "burned our cornfields and left our cities leveled". That would be the union soldiers who saved our country and ended slavery. So, wow, that's something to chew on.

Williams, who's obviously white and grew up in the deep South, had to have a Confederate flag airbrushed off her jacket for an early album cover. But she also preaches progressive politics in song, swears by the Velvet Underground as much as Hank Williams, and calls Trump a man without a soul. So, like Petty's song and Petty himself, she's complicated.

But singing a song like Rebels without apology and making it the lead track for an album that came out at the same time everyone worthwhile - including Williams herself - was grieving George Floyd is a bit more than complicated; its straight up knotty. Or nutty. Or both.

But meanwhile the song sounds awesome.

The album's title track follows, so we get a break from all that edgyness and take a ride with Petty, Del Shannon and Lucinda. And what a lovely drive: the track gives the hipsters in her band a chance to shred. Petty's lead guitarist, Mike Campbell, is the white man's Hendrix, sure.

But check this out.

Williams doesn't let up after that; rather she makes another brilliant decision with Gainesville, an Echoes-era outtake I never appreciated until now.

Williams owns the song; like Petty, she too grew up thinking of a place with more than a few stoplights as a "big town". It's these moments of sympathy and kinship between Lucinda and Tom I like best; later in the album Williams handles the line "be a landlord and a renter" in a manner that shows she deeply understands the later position and has no interest in the former. In doing so she understands Petty's lyric better than he did and way the hell better than I, born into late 70's SoCal privilege, ever could.

But Williams recorded three or four other tribute records all at once during the lockdown and then rushed them all out - and that entirely oppositional approach to the deliberate work she did in the 90's makes for problems during much of the rest of the album. Too often the arrangements are obvious, and therefore dull. Same thing with the song selection: You Don't Know How It Feels has always been a boring song and Williams offers it no fresh new angle. Let me get to the point Lucinda: you shoulda chosen a better song.

But the album's biggest problem is Side 4: and that's because there is no Side 4. We get a picture disc of Williams instead of any of the real deep tracks from Petty's first, pumped-up heyday. We should have Insider, with Williams performing utterly solo; we should gaze with her out the window of a 747 and see only black sky.

And we should hear American Girl delivered by one of the greatest of our American Women.