Who doesn't love a good argument?

Common sense, sir, is what tells you the world is flat! (BLOG THEME UNDER CONSTRUCTION) Affiliated with Aldebaran.

[yesterdaysprint]

The San Francisco Examiner, California, August 1, 1954

[vonlipvig]

i´m drawing a big dumb thing that’s gonna take me many days so for now have this man

*ominous song from those vines* RUN *ominous music but louder*

[drownedcoward-blog]

@jovialcontrarian

The terrifying giant rats are burning things, because of course they are. Senri won’t admit fire is a comforting presence, something that makes him feel like he’s safe. He won’t follow that train of thought to the station, it’s too embarrassing. Instead, he watches various wood carving go up in smoke.

He doesn’t really get it, is this part of the festival? He wonders if he should carve something. He usually makes things like bunnies so he wouldn’t want to burn it, that’d be mean to the bunny. It seems a little pointless to destroy your own hard work like this. 

Senri realizes he isn’t exactly alone in watching… whatever this is. He’s trying not to acknowledge the nearest person because that person is very much an adult and he’d really rather not deal with that. Instead, he focuses on the nearest burning object.

Hold on. He sneaks a glance at the man near him then at the carving then back at the man until he is no longer hiding his obvious staring. He’s going to regret this, he knows he is as he comes up beside the man.

“Excuse me, sir, um, is that… you?” Senri asks, pointing at the bust currently on fire. 

[jovialcontrarian]

Oh this was marvelous, absolutely stupendous! Capital! Exciting beyond words! That the Jovial Contrarian made enough of a name for himself, in such a short period of time, to be worth an effigy was as humbling as it was extraordinarily bad for his already inflated ego. 

Of course, as flattering as it all was, he would not let the craftsmen go un-accosted. I mean, really, paper drawings of wheels pinned onto the effigy’s trousers almost as an afterthought? That was just lazy. He moves to make his way towards the nearest rat observing the burning. How would the Contrarian know that this rat in particular was the one that crafted his likeness? He doesn’t, but it hardly matters; it’ll cause a fuss either way and-- Oh someone is talking to him. Someone, as it turns out, who isn’t a rat. 

“Why, yes. I believe so.” he smiles genially at the one approaching him. Initially, he thought it to be Knoll, but this person was obviously younger. It must have been all the blue that caused the misunderstanding. 

“Is there a problem with that?” 

[jovialcontrarian]

concordantknight‌:

White Chain can’t help but laugh, despairingly, at the absurdity of the situation. “Now that,” she says, with a tired smile, “is the last thing I thought I would ever hear from you.”

The Contrarian laughs along in sympathy, “It’s no less true! Come now, get up. Aren’t you an angel? There’s no need to fret so over something so trivial.” He holds out his hand; it’s more of a symbolic gesture than anything. He doubts she actually needs the physical assistance in getting back up. 

“Besides, you’re making all this rather awkward.” 

[jovialcontrarian]

dyingstorm‌:

Wonderful. The title was quite fitting, then. But Thassarian was expecting him to deny it, and the ready admission is reassuring. He likes things out in the open.

“She takes charge. That’s not a bad thing. In a crisis, it’s a good thing.” Nothing about her instruction has bothered him - not yet, at least - and they seem to have similar goals. He is still not sure he can trust her. But she seems to have good intentions, and there’s nothing stopping him from turning on her if he has to.

He trusts the Contrarian even less, or he would ask just what makes him say this about her.

“Is it a good thing? Truly?” He doesn’t elaborate on the questions asked, better to let Thassarian’s mind fill in the gaps for him. 

“Why do you defend her so, good sir? Her original message stated, quite bluntly, that the Protocols refused to, ah, what was the term she used? ‘Cede authority?’ to her. Must I bend my will, not only to those who imprison us, but any chancer who believes she has a right to power?”

[yesterdaysprint]

The Fort Wayne Sentinel, Indiana, January 25, 1917

[theopengraveofmadness]

[yesterdaysprint]

The Washington Times, Washington DC, August 3, 1919

[jovialcontrarian]

🌙

🌙 EXHAUSTED : 

The Contrarian’s the type to keep working or keep doing whatever it is that he was doing until he literally passes out from exhaustion. In the text of FL it does say he works long hours while making sure his staff have reasonable hours / good pay. He doesn’t have a desk, here int he ark, but I imagine he fell dozed off at it constantly while working in London. He’d pause to stretch his cramping hand and then realized three hours had passed .

The habit is still present, here, even though there’s not really any “work” to be done. The housing in Crises having libraries on every floor is extremely dangerous because hes probably going to end up passing out and sleeping there at least like three days a week. 

Relatedly,  when he’s extremely tired and half asleep he will just keep talking about nonsense and be completely unaware of how incoherent he sounds 

[spring-forth-from-my-mind]

Emotions

Send me one and I’ll tell you about my muse when they’re…

☕ RELAXED ♒️ IRRITATED 💘 LUSTING 🌦 LONGING ☘ HOPEFUL 🍃 CONFUSED 🎡 AMUSED 🌞 HAPPY ⚡️ ANGRY 💧 SAD 💕 IN LOVE ❌ JEALOUS 💔 HEARTBOKEN 🏝 LONELY 🌙 EXHAUSTED 👻 AFRAID 👐 SURPRISED  

[yesterdaysprint]

The Evening Missourian, Columbia, Missouri, December 5, 1915

[jovialcontrarian]

northridden‌:

“I was placed here upon arrival.”  Alexis pulls their voice flat, dead, easy as anything; it’s one movement to lean back against the wall of the elevator, putting distance between the two of them, and glance up at the ceiling in what could be seen as avoidance.  They have enough to say that fits ready-made with their skin, and it’s of no importance to anyone but them if they’ve been sleeping – as with so many other things, this is cyclical, and if the world sometimes feels like it’ll peel apart – they know it won’t.  It doesn’t matter how it feels.  They’ve always been somewhat of a private person.

“No,“ they say, mild as ever, “I don’t suppose at all, actually.“

“Capital! Lead the way, my friend.” The Contrarian proclaims, either completely misunderstanding Alexis’ words or ignoring them. Should he be more careful around them? Absolutely. Is he going to be? Absolutely not. Death here means even less than back home, even if it is....unpleasant. 

There’s a ding as the elevator doors slide open, the Contrarian is still smiling in an obnoxiously affable manner.

“I’ll be counting on you to show me the sights, my friend! Where to first?” 

[phthalovoid-blog]

@jovialcontrarian

As the man enters the elevator, the sight of him draws Delilah up short. Something in his face rings a bell in her head, perhaps… Ah.

Delilah remembers her disastrous attempts at playing a bigger game in her first month here. Putting out feelers, and inspiring some kind of insipid protest by a much more justice-minded resident. And this man, he was the one conducting the counterprotest. How curious. Had she ever learned his name?

The J… Jolly something. She’d looked into him briefly. Not learned enough to remember him. But the thing that’s catching her interest is that he’s getting on from Daud’s floor. Now that’s something useful.

“Excuse me,” she says, giving the man a smile. “I couldn’t help but notice… Do you happen to live on that floor? I have… a friend who lives up there. Daud?”

[jovialcontrarian]

The Contrarian hadn’t planned to do anything of note that day; he intended, as usual, to take a stroll until something interesting to do occured to him, which was why he spent most of his days arguing with rats. It wasn’t often that a promising diversion happened upon him so quickly. Was the strikingly handsome woman speaking to him another one taken from Dunwall? Or perhaps Daud was miraculously charming and managed to cultivate numerous friendships here since his arrival. Either way, the Contrarian was curious.

“I do, as a matter of fact, live here. I relocated only recently, Tranquility was a bit too, ah, tranquil, for my taste. Are we to be neighbours then? Capital! ” He returns her smile with one of his own, continuing the stready stream of light prattle, “I do know Daud, actually. Lovely chap. Questionable tastes. Oh, I don’t believe I caught your name...?” 

[ohghiblies]

https://www.instagram.com/ohghiblies/

[fruitsoftheape100]

In Just A Few Short Weeks I Will Be Communicating With My Male-Nipples Only

[jovialcontrarian]

thisdeadvessel‌:

Jessamine’s free hand lifts when his forehead presses to hers, and she slides her fingers along the line of his jaw, delicate, cups his cheek with her palm tenderly, and she shifts to pull back, quiet still. She lifts her head, and presses her lips to his forehead, soft and warm, and then lower, to his nose, and then over each of his closed eyes before she bends, and their lips meet.

The kiss isn’t one of burning desire, or desperation, but quiet reassurance. She keeps him in place with her hand on his face, kisses him soft and slow and sweet until some amount of the anxiety twisting his heart and body has eased. It’s the quickest way she can imagine to ease his concerns, now that her own have been addressed- and the easiest way to make sure that he won’t interrupt her, when she finds her own words to say.

When she pulls back, finally, she lets their foreheads rest against each other again and pulls his hand up, tucks it against her chest, over her heart- it’s a comforting weight, there, soothing. “Shh, August,” she murmurs, “I will be well with time. I am… It is a relief, to know that… That my knowledge of you is not too much for you to bear.”

Her hand drops from his cheek to his shoulder, and she hesitates a moment, then curls her fingers against his neck, strokes her thumb over the heavy thud of his pulse in his throat.

“My affections,” she murmurs, soft, “remain as they have been, and so they shall, I am sure, for quite some time. I hope… that they are not troubling to you.”

August settles into the kiss, into her touch, letting out a contented sigh. It’s enough, for the moment, to sit in relative stillness, his hand over her heart, her hand over his pulse. She keeps catching him in these spaces where he ought not to be, where words hold less meaning than the absence of them. He’s still not sure how to feel about it, nor how to process the words she spoke from his heart but it’s...nice, being with her like this. He should have a better word for the feeling, he’s a writer for God’s sake but...”nice” would do, for the moment. It’s enough. 

“Of course not, don’t be silly. If there ever is a point in time where you are inconveniencing me, rather than the other way around...well, I simply wouldn’t be doing my job.” As if to illustrate his point, he pinches her in the side as he did earlier, before he went and ruined the entire mood of the outing. It’s gentler this time, though the mischief in his grin is still very much the same as it was. Before she can react, August pushes himself off the bank back into the water. 

“I’m glad we agree that our liaison is mutually-” he gives an obnoxiously exaggerated wink,”-pleasurable. Shall we make the most of the remaining daylight?”  

[jovialcontrarian]

flood0‌:

A politician – the Mayor talks like one, for sure. It makes Royce feel odd about his own station in life – at least, the station he used to have. He’d never thought himself the puppetmaster but as his colleagues fell one by one, including Grant and Asher, he realized he was the one left holding the strings.

And he had enjoyed it, hadn’t he? 

“I come from a city called Cloudbank,” Royce says simply, matter-of-factly. “It’s nothing like any place here. Certainly not this forest. Probably not your Fallen London, either, it’s…” Royce spreads his arms, wiggles his fingers in front of the Mayor to illustrate his description. “It’s all data, hard light, mathematics that would make the average person’s head explode. None of the city was concrete. People could ‘vote’ on city improvements, which sounds egalitarian, but…” He runs a hand through his hair, mussing it even further. The tangled black fringe of it flops back down over his eyes.

“It was democracy to the point of chaos. The city changed every other day, it was…frustrating, to someone like me. Call it a character flaw.”

Royce clamps his mouth shut, after that. It seems like a special talent of his to sound more authoritarian than he actually is. And besides, those things standing on their hind legs, going into town, were those –

“Bears?” Royce sputters, in disbelief.

The Contrarian listens as they move along in tandem, quietly noting that Royce, like him, makes a habit of talking with his hands. Charming! The city he spoke of, though...there were details there he files away for safe keeping, to be poked and picked at. Perhaps over a meal, where Royce would be less inclined to attempt an escape, should an argument arise. 

“What sort of ‘improvements’ do you mean? Aesthetic? Organizational?” Still, there was no reason not to do a bit of poking ahead of time, if only to gather information. The sort of society Royce describes is...interesting.  

“Are you a man that prefers stability, then? I can’t imagine it’s doing wonders for your state of mind to be transported here without warning.” This would be an appropriate time for a supportive pat on the shoulder, if only Royce wasn’t towering so far above him like a nervous-looking tree. The Contrarian settled for a sympathetic smile instead.

He can’t help but chuckle at Royce’s reaction to the denizens of Tranquility, “You can’t say I didn’t warn you. Do try not to stare.” He keeps a steady pace wheeling forward, trusting Royce not to get too distracted with the new surroundings, or the denizens occupying them. 

“There’s a cafe I’ve visited a few times somewhere up ahead, nothing particularly fancy; their main faire is soups and sandwiches. Does that sound acceptable for a meal?” The Contrarian pauses, then remembers the most crucial detail, “I’m fairly certain they serve wine.”