#we are fixing shit by making other shit worse

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

Hey hi hello to any fellow Brits reading this.

You probably know we have a general election coming up, which by the way, make sure you're registered to vote and have the qualifying photo ID.

And hey maybe you're a fence-sitter who doesn't want to vote for Labour for whatever reason.

Well, this post is giving you a reason to vote for Labour (or any party other than Tory if the candidate actually has a chance to win the seat).

You might have noticed that a lot of local and city councils have either gone bankrupt recently or are teetering on the edge, and that officially, it's the councils themselves that have been blamed, and uh yeah, that's horseshit.

The majority of a local council's funding comes from core grants given out by Westminster.

There's actually a limit on funding that local councils can raise via taxes, and like a whole lot of issues in the UK, that comes down to Margaret fucking Thatcher. It's also thanks to her that local councils don't have as much power over the local area as you'd ideally want them to.

(That's been eased a little since, but if a local council ain't got the money, they can't exercise that power.)

Suffice to say, local councils are very much dependent on funding from the central government.

And as you might imagine, 14 years of Tory government has just made it worse. From 2010 to 2020, that funding was cut by 40%.

Wanna know why hundreds of libraries have closed down? Or why public services like bin collections are almost entirely ran by corporations? Or why bin collections are now once a fortnight rather than once a week? Or why council houses haven't been built? Or why public toilets are being closed? Or why you have to Tokyo Drift on the drive to work because it's been 2 years and no one's done shit about that goddamn pothole? Or why parks seem to now be maintained by Big Foot and by the way Big Foot has also declared bankruptcy? Or why local arts have had their budget of 17 paperclips and a whistle reduced down to 10 paperclips and no whistle? Or why your local museum is effectively a mausoleum?

It is all down to this.

Your local council runs on a shoestring budget because Tory rule has deprived local councils of the funding that they need.

If the Tories win in July, this problem is just gonna get worse and worse and worse.

More councils are going to go bankrupt; more public services are going to be cut or underfunded; more vulnerable kids are going to fall through the cracks; more local services will be privatised; more pressing issues will be ignored because there's no money left over to fix it.

You might not like the current Labour party, but hi hello welcome to harm reduction politics. Maybe a Labour government won't fix this, but another 5 years of Tory rule is going to break this country.

So for god's sake, get over yourself and your leftist purity bullshit, and just fucking vote for Labour as a vote against the Tories.

[Information for this post comes from this video by Tom Nicholas]

[the-magpie-collective]

[Part 3/3]: It gets worse

Part 2

Because yes, the writing gets worse.

First, it's very clearly implied that the pact has already been broken when Mizora first arrives in camp in Act 3. Mizora offers Wyll a new pact to both herself and Zariel: 'Option one. I show you the way to your father. I guarantee him no harm except that from you and your allies. And you pledge your soul to me and the archdevil Zariel in a pact eternal.' A warlock cannot have more than one pact in DnD, the mechanics do not allow for it, a soul cannot be forfeit twice. But then she goes on to state: 'Option two. I break your pact. You are freed from your duty but retain your devil form. Your father dies by his enemy's hand.' So his pact isn't broken? Which is it?

Why didn't they write something like, 'Or Option one. You rescind your request to have your pact broken, I offer an alternate boon, and you continue to pledge your soul to me.' Why would you ever write it like that if that Pact isn't broken? Why does Mizora need to break the Pact if it is? It makes no sense.

As if that isn't bad enough we come to my least favorite part: Addendum F.

Addendum F. 'The Absolute must be avenged for the soul-binder's detention at Moonrise. The soul-bearer retains his gifts until such time as the Absolute is slain.'

What?! What do you mean Mizora can just add on addendums willy-nilly to the Pact without even so much as needing to run it by Wyll first? How the fuck does this make any sense? If Mizora can just add whatever she wants to Wyll's pact then why would she ever actually break it? Why not have Wyll dress up as a clown every full moon and run around terrorizing children? Why not use Wyll's pact to make every single soul in Baldur's Gate forfeit to her? 

This addendum is so stupid. I hate it. The only reason for it to exist is so that the in game mechanics make sense and Wyll doesn't have to be respecced as something other than a warlock at the 11th hour. But if that's the case why not just add something into the six months clause? Easy fix to add 'Clause Z, Section Thirteen: 'If the soul-binder consents to separation, she will release the soul-bearer from all obligation and rescind all gifted powers within six months. Like really why? What possessed them to add this addendum? Why make it seem like Mizora can change the Pact at any time and for any reason? Were they so oblivious to their own writing that this is the only way they could think of to patch that potential plot hole?

I just can't.

This is Wyll's narrative Arc and the writing is so slap-dash. It doesn't make sense. The player feels like they have little to no choice in the outcome. Wyll has no choice in the outcome. The stakes feel pointless because there's no reason why breaking Wyll's pact should endanger his father. The path the player has to follow is inane. And when we get to the end we find out it was all pointless anyways because the pact is clearly whatever shit Mizora makes up on the spot that comes to her mind because that's the only way any of this makes sense. This is the level of writing I'd expect from a DM who suddenly needed to pull something out of their ass, not a team of writers who have had plenty of time to sit down and plot out a story.

In the story they built there's no point in Wyll struggling to escape. This isn't a 'well, Wyll's story was hastily rewritten' issue. This is a bad writing issue. No attention or care was paid towards making the narrative crux of Wyll's story actually make sense. No one bothered to make Mizora's pact make any sense. You cannot tell me there wasn't a planned ending for EA Wyll to break his pact; I won't believe you. The writers clearly just didn't care to make it make sense.

Mizora's Pact might just be the symptom, but it really shows how poorly Wyll's narrative arc was written.

[toomanyplotbunnies-sendhelp]

Hello and welcome to Day 7 of "Let's Explore My Plot Bunnies"

Sorry for posting this a bit late today, I was busy, and the idea was a bit complicated to put in words. (Don't you love when your brain gives you only vivid images but abandons you when you need to describe them? Yeah, me too)

The fic idea I wanna explore today is actually a collab fanfic between me and my friend @yokomisaki.

This is a Canon Divergence AU for Naruto that both of us came up with around *checks notes* July 13th, 2023. It actually started with me saying that "Shiranui Genma is definitely a motherhen to anybody that he deems in need of motherhening" and that evolved into "Shiranui Genma would make a great Jounin Sensei" before it settled into "Make Shiranui Genma a Jonin Sensei and then throw Naruto at him cause god, does the kid need someone like him in his life".

I came up with a title for this fic, and we already started writing it. I have done a small part of the prologue so far, but we have chapters planned out (just not written out yet).

Title of the fic:

"The late dog always barks at the closed door"

(Yes, it is a jab at Kakashi's habit of being late. Is it mean of me to do this? Yes. Do I care? Not really. I feel he needs a bit of a reality check for that; like, you can be late for your own personal meetings but NOT FOR A FREAKING OFFICIAL MEETING)

Synopsis/Description:

Shiranui Genma is many things, but he is not a teacher. At least not until the Hokage decides that, in the wake of one Jounin Sensei's death, he is to take a team of 3 freshly graduated children under his wing. The good news is that he is not obligated to pass them. The bad news is that he actually likes the brats - despite the fact that he knows only headaches will follow him now.

In the one year he had the brats for a lot changed, including what one of his students wanted to do with her life as a shinobi. Now, Genma is required to get a new Gennin to make up for the student (and she is still his student dammit; no official paper will ever change that) that decided to pursue the career of "not-battle active medic-nin".

When it was time for him to choose, he recognized a certain hyperactive blonde as part of the rooster he could choose from - which is weird since Hatake seems to want him. So then why was not the kid already spoken for?

After some consideration, Genma came up with his answer.

"Hokage-sama, I want to take Uzumaki Naruto as the new member for Team 3."

Some details:

I know Team 3 is supposed to be Might Guy, Neji Hyuuga, Tenten, and Rock Lee; however, I have always believed them to be team 9, so it is really hard for me to correct that belief. Thus, just for the sake of my brain, Genma's team is Team 3, while Guy's team is team 9.

This fic will have (so far) 4 OCs: Kawamura Chizuru (Part of Team 3 - retires from active duty but is still considered part of the team by Genma); Nomura Akira (Part of Team 3); Higashi Kyoka (Part of Team 3); Sakaki Ichirou (the boy that takes Naruto's place in team 7)

Yes, at Naruto's graduation team, because he also got to graduate, there was one person that would have to be put in another team as the numbers wouldn't add up (think instead of 21 kids aka 7 teams of 3, there are 22 kids that graduated)

We have most of the plot for the OG series already thought out; the Shippuden part is more complicated (because of what we do with the pervious part)

Naruto is getting the darn support system that he is in need of in this AU

And I am not overlooking Sasuke either. Without Naruto around to push him, Sasuke will realize that he is pretty much isolated (thank you Konoha Elders and Teacher from the Akademy (Not Iruka), you did a fantastic job *note the sarcasm*). Cause really, the main reason why it didn't look like Sasuke was isolated by others (and instead it showed he chose isolation) is because Naruto is like 10 people in one presence-wise. And because I am taking Naruto away from the picture, I raise you this idea: Get Raidou (or any competent adult) to interact with Sasuke. Sasuke needs more competent adults in his life at this point

Everyone - and I mean EVERYONE - is getting character development. Even just some characters that appear for a few times. And I am dragging Kakashi from his brooding corner, kicking and screaming if I have to. (And yes, that includes villains, too. *looks at my brain planned storyline* And summons get the same treatment as well)

Another thing: Political Sub-plot. Ya think that with all the importance they put on, not only rank but missions that get you in different countries, this show would have more political talk; but no. So we are bringing Naruto into politics. Inter-village Politics, to be precise. Naruto, prepare your Talk no Jutsu.

Also, Fuuinjutsu Made-Up Theory Stuff. Just because I can and I will (I am in charge of Fuuinjitsu stuff). Genma is making Naruto learn them from scratch.

We are addressing the fact that the Shinobi Academy of Konoha was turned into a "civilian playground" because of the Konoha Elders. (It's way worse than you can think if Genma makes Naruto re-learn stuff from zero) - there is no way any fight will have some bullshit pop-quiz about History or Chakra Theory. How in the world are those kids alive?

We also have Orochimaru Plot™️. A whole ton of it too.

We also get into the "Preparation to Take a Life on the Battlefield" thing. Because people there seem to not do it anymore. Like, get the kids to kill animals in the wild after catching them. Is it hard? Yes. But THEY NEED THE DAMN EXPERIENCE SO THEY DON'T FREEZE UP AS BADLY IN COMBAT.

Get Naruto into the Tactical Thinking. Not because he is Shikamaru Level at it; but because he is good at surprising the enemy. So Naruto's shenanigans + some tactician lessons = Perfect Combo for Ambush.

Naruto and Kurama interact earlier. And, while it won't be that much better than the beginning of their friendship in the anime, we are getting the friendship a lot faster this time.

Finally, Team 3, being trained by Genma, starts to pick up having Senbons on them. It's like their "mark" as Genma's kids. (Genma is so proud)

This is all I have currently (mostly because it's late at night here, and I am losing my thought process). I will also post what I have written from the Prologue after this is posted, so look forward to that.

So, what do you think? Good? Bad?

I will see you guys later. Take care and have a great day/night!

- TooManyPlotBunnies-Send Help

[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."

[corset]

Our mental health has been in such an interestingly terrible place for the last month or so. Genuinely kind of fascinating to watch from different internal angles....like watching the ocean ebb and flow and change temperament at random sometimes based on weather or the moon or something. Like this shit is just terrible

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[scaredofmyocs]

I love it when i accidentally stay up on the night im supposed to be catching up on sleep it totallly doesnt make me feel horrible all week long

[genekies]

screaming in the club

time for another vent in tags

[ozymoron]

literally why am i a perfectionist i actually really dont give a shit

[starofnyra]

I just wanted to make a decent dude dragonborn and oh no he's kinda hot

"Kill the firstborn of Akatosh that's literally called the World Eater, and end all war in Skyrim without setting the world on fire. One of those things is impossible, and I like our chances with the dragon."

Anyway... meet Anfortas Areyllion: gentleman rogue, or roguish gentleman? A dunmer from High Rock who's travelled across Tamriel in search of stronger foes, he's made a name for himself as an extremely proficient warrior, to the point that many factions, both shadowy and noble, have tried to court him into their side -- to no avail. It doesn't matter whether you're the world's worst enemy, a hero, or a god. So long as you're stronger than him, he's out to get you.

Because High Rock is all about "who you're born to" and not who you come to be, Anfortas has a special distaste for born talent or people in places purely for their bloodline. Which makes him being the Dragonborn so, so funny. He takes great pride in his hard-earned skills as a rogue and archer, things he wasn't good at in his clumsy younger days.

If I could mod it in, I'd give him a Belmont-style whip too.

Anfortas has no particular care for how things should be. If anything, the more enforced the order of things is, the more he's eager to defy it. A dunmer from the slums shouldn't be writing poetry, knitting sweaters, and reading up on Talos? Guess what he likes to do in his free time.

Sure, he has to earn money somehow. It's a good thing he's not opposed to clearing out bandit camps or necromancy temples every now and then. But really, could Tamriel come with a bigger challenge?

Alduin: proceeds to exist.

In my playthrough, he starts off a Thalmor prisoner -- our boy has been raising the hairs on the back of their necks lately. But with a little improvised lockpick and some backup from Kaidan, he made it out just fine. Fine enough, that he had no qualms picking up Taliesin, despite him being a Thalmor agent.

By Anfortas' reasoning, if two fugitives and a turncoat don't send the Thalmor running to them, then how else could he goad the Thalmor into a fight?

Well, maybe he should pick up the runaway prince in Solitude while he's at it.

Anfortas is always ready to mention how he killed legendary-beast-so-and-so or powerful-person-whatsit, with a roguish, monotone drawl and idle morbid glee. Want to learn the six slowest ways to kill someone with a toothpick? Need a refresher on Wayrest-style brawling with a side of improvised weaponry? He's your mer.

Just... don't ask about the scar. Not even the promise of a 1v1 with Akatosh could get that story out of him.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

feeling SO SO NORMAL about the beloved BLADE GUNNBLADE

[x-letsbreaksomerules-x]

i think tonight i will draw my inquisitor covered in blood or something. put him through the horrors again

[links-hella-fine-booty]

I have way too many emotions to process and everything bothers me

[bmoharrisbankofficial]

genuinely what steps can be taken at this point to get anyone other than biden on the ballot? i don’t think he stands a chance against trump and people are forgetting how insane the american right is. biden’s shot himself in the foot repeatedly with his shirt policies and enabling genocide, and the third party alternatives i’ve looked into have not mobilized enough at all in the ways they need to to get a substantial number of votes. would a general strike work? the response i’ve gotten from my local reps have been ‘nothing’ or ‘seethe, basically’.

[falinscloaca]

rewatched paranoia agent by proxy (reaction youtube), feeling emotionally akin to warm yet raw eggs again. great.

[wild-at-mind]

I remember how I used to read tumblr and the more angry and disillusioned someone seemed with society and life, the more valid I thought their point of view was. This is now mostly no longer the case, but when I'm depressed I think I still go there.