#final evaluation

[decaffeinatedpartymuggoop]

Okay, we all know being a demigod is a shit position. Its scary and gets you killed in really nasty ways. But I feel like being a Big Three Kid has to be the shitiest position in all the shit positions.

Like, imagine being Thalia Grace. Your dad is king of the gods, lord of the skies. Led a war to get rid of a tyrant. And the only thing you get is his scorned wife AND brother, who both try to kill you (with one technically succeeding), a drunk of a mother, and brother who you thought was dead. Oh, wait, he’s not dead! No instead he was used as an offering to appease your dad’s wife and help fight in a war and prevent mass destruction.

Or maybe you can imagine being Percy. Son of the sea god, the stormbringer, the earthshaker. You get to live with a disgusting, abusive man for around 6 years. Who smells like literal shit. All because your scent as a demigod is too strong, BECAUSE of who your father is. You see things that you aren’t supposed to see and do things that people can’t do and go years thinking something is wrong with you. That your the problem. Then you get to the one place where you’re supposed to be save. But! Here is the kicker! You’re not! Your uncles hate you and you’ve been accused of stealing a symbol of power. A series of events that will kick off a war, and guess what. You’re a center point for it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood.

Mhm, but then there’s Hazel. Daughter Pluto, god of the underworld and riches. But that doesn’t really change anything does it? She’s still living in 1930s America, in a red state. One where confederate flags still hang if you go deep enough into the city. She go to a school where the kids are supposed to be just like her! They still don’t like her tho. She’s got no idea who your father is, only that he left her with a parting gift. Only it’s not really a gift. Sure, she can pull rubies and diamonds from the earth, all worth millions. But anyone who’s ever gonna touch it will die. She lives with her mother, a woman gone so mad with greed it kills her. And Hazel, by the way. Laying dead Alaska, inhaling oil. But it doesn’t end there! She can’t have her mother suffering for eternity, can she? The answer is no. Hazel gets to spend the next 70 years in the Fields of Asphodel. It still doesn’t end! Because when she’s brought back to life, she gets to fight in a war against giants, her sad story seemingly never ending.

Nico’s a son of one of the Big Three, one of the most ancient and most powerful. But most people look at him as something bad, something not worth taking a second glance at. Something too look away from, mostly. He’s from the 30s, spent years in a magical time casino with only his sister at his side. She doesn’t stay for long though, she dies soon after they discover their heritage. And he doesn’t remember his mother much, a name without a face. A face without a name. He survived an attempted assassination at 2, though it wouldn’t be the only time his was life was threatened. He clings to his sister, even though she’s dead. He’s the son of the god of the underworld, is he not? There had to be a way, and there is. Only she won’t talk to him, she seems more concerned with communicating with the guy who got her killed instead. She chooses rebirth, and he decides to lay it to rest. She’s not coming back, and he has a war to fight in. (He gets stuck in a jar and forcibly outed a few years later, but that’s a lot to get into for now.)

Jason Grace is a pillar of New Rome, their golden boy, their American boy. He’s a son of Jupiter, a natural born leader. He’s been at camp for as long as he can remember, he wants to be praetor soon. He’s had a rocky start, but maybe he’ll be one of the lucky ones. Retire a veteran and live a long life with Reyna in New Rome. Only that never happened. He has no idea where he is, there’s a girl holding his hand, and she’s cute but it feels wrong. They get attacked and people come in and call him a Greek demigod, familiar, yes, but still wrong. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t put things into perspective the way it does for Piper and Leo. He’s goes to a quest to rescue Hera, the name sounds wrong. He nearly dies but at least he remembers who he is. He spends the next 6 months trying to get back home, even though he isn’t too sure on where or what home is. He gets there, eventually, but it doesn’t stop there. He’s dragged on quests and battles and fights in the war but at least he survives it, he’s still there. Apollo needs help, he and Piper give him aid. He gets dumped. He doesn’t get to he a veteran in New Rome. Not with Reyna, not with Piper, not with anybody. He doesn’t get kids or grandkids. No, he gets shot down, another demigod buried.

You could be any one of them, really. Pick your poison, but I guarantee you won’t like any of them. Spending years trying to find a place where you belong, where you feel safe. Only for it to never come.

Percy, who, if you really look at the books, isn’t really all that well liked until he’s at least 2 years into camp. Only to then be sidelined because the courages, brave, fearless daughter of Zeus is back from the dead. Nico, the son of one of the most feared and hated gods. Who has death written all over him, who excludes it so much animals can smell it and humans can sense it, who’s been ostracized and pushed off to the side since he was 10. Hazel, who was treated like disease as soon as she stepped foot on camp soil. Who’s gone her whole life looked as something that’s cursed, that will only bring misfortune, a bad omen.

Shit positions, all of them.

[nightfal1n]

(wake up to thunder noise at 5am, thinking) (It's Shinomiyas+Narumi thought)

Isao becoming the monster to ensure the later generation's survival is how Kikoru lose her daddy and how Narumi finds his father figure

[chaos-has-theories]

I am generally known as a nice and gentle person. I like being kind. It comes naturally, it makes me happy, etc etc.

I am a nice person.

Except when I'm tidying my parents' house, at which point I am instantly transformed into a petty bitch.

[musical-chick-13]

Holy shit, this new specialist actually took the time to explain everything that was going on, clearly did all the needed insurance research, and assured me that they will keep appealing my case if the pre-authorization I need ends up falling through for some reason, AND actually listened to all of my symptoms, I'M ACTUALLY GOING TO CRY

[fidgetspringer]

.

[bawdybooster]

Of Service to the Imperium

“…and then, there’s the issue of you.”

You froze, feeling the cold serpentine gaze of the lamia interrogator fall upon your rope-bound body.  She was quite an intimidating figure, tall and elegant in her uniform, with features looking to have been chiseled from the purest marble to form a perfectly threatening force for the Lamia Imperium.  Long, silver hair flowed from her head and draped itself down her backside.  Her thick white coils crowded around in the dungeon, not wrapped around you just yet but certainly eager to grind you to dust once the order was given.

“Me…?” you asked meekly.

“Yes,” she hissed ruefully. “You.  We don’t take kindly to Imposters in our ranks, and I don’t have to remind you that Transformation Elixirs are outlawed among civilians for a good reason.”

You blushed.  The merchant who’d sold you those elixirs had promised that no one would notice so long as you kept on top of them.  You would have been indistinguishable from any other Serpentine Sentries.  Awesome, Athletic, Appealing – blessed with a scaly tail flowing from below your waist, nobody would have been able to notice.

But the way you hissed out an uncharacteristic “Reporting for Duty, Sssir,” to the captain spelled out plain as day how you didn’t belong.  All well-trained soldiers of the Imperium had gone to great lengths to remove the hiss of the common lamia from their tongue, and anyone whose tongue so much as hissed a second longer than necessary could only mean one of two things — they had slipped through the coils of their instructor’s grasp, or they were simply no real lamia.

Before you could hiss another word in, a snare of coils had descended upon you from the guards and dragged you away to the dungeons, where you now found yourself before your cold interrogator, your Transformation Elixir having now worn off and left you quite small in comparison to the well-built woman before you.

“Well?” She growled, “What reason have you to be here, walker?”

You gulped, overcome with embarrassment as you realized you had never admitted this to anyone aloud before.

“I… want to be one of you.”

The Interrogator's frozen figure stirred, no longer cold from spite and distrust but from unspoken awe at what she was hearing.  For a moment, her forlorn lips seemed to part in awe, before her fangs gritted together in a hissing snarl as her face twisted into rage.

From the walls, her white coils thrust forward, binding tightly around your body with an angry squeeze.  Her hands descended upon your neck, fingers drawing claws as she threatened to tear you to shreds here and now after the words she had just heard.  “What?!”  She snarled, “Isss thisss sssome sssort of joke?!”

Your eyes bulged, lips trembling in fear as she held your life in clawed hands.  Babbles of denial spilled forth from you, desperate to be heard before the binding loops of scale and muscle drew tighter and pulled what little breath you had from your lungs.  Amidst this panic, you understood that this was only right – that as the Imperium had explained when they conquered your lands, their all-knowing hiss and yes speaking the truth of their awesome might to your people, that this was the rightful place of the lamia.  Atop a mound of coils reminding the world of the order and peace they brought to these chaotic realms.  And as you lay there, bound at the mercy of the Interrogator’s coils, something shifted in her touch.  Her desire was still there, clutching to your trembling life, but no longer was it a desire to tear you to pieces – it was a desire to know what you said.

Her clawed hands left your neck, permitting you to gasp for breath.  “Then explain,” She ordered.  “Now.”

Something in her voice compelled you to speak, a hypnotic tone not unlike that of the missionaries who spread the gospel of the Lamia Imperium.  You told everything to her: Of how your life had been a dull, aimless routine of farming before the Imperium arrived.  Of how their presence had enlightened you to your rightful place within their coils.  Of how the thought of proving all your worth to them had driven you to obsession, to the point of putting you in the unfortunate position you now found yourself in.

And as you spoke, stirred by the eager duty to be of service to the Lamia Imperium, a change stirred in the Interrogator.  Her chiseled scowl melted from its cold, bleak exterior, and in its place curled a serpentine smile – one that no longer saw an insult to very Imperium in your form, but rather, potential.

Your babbling words stopped as the coils surrounding you gave a gentle hug, white scales holding close to you as they shifted about you, not unlike a reassuring massage.  A brief, unbound moan danced off your tongue as coils slithered over your form, before drawing tight to draw your attention back to the Interrogator before you, her coy smile accompanied by a mischievous look in her eyes.

“Well,” she tutted, “I had no idea you were so enamored with the Imperium.  It’s not often one such as yourself becomes so eager to serve a greater being.  I apologize for my barbs, earlier.  The Imperium will be very pleased to hear of your dedication.”

A dazed smile spread across your cheeks, the Interrogator’s tail stroking your head like a prized pet.  “Th… Thank you,” you murmured, “I live to–”

You gagged as her coils wound tight around your throat, her hands taking your head into their grasp.  Two thumbs placed themselves upon your lips, bringing your mouth shut as the Interrogator hushed what thoughts you had in your mind.  “Do not speak, little morsel,” she hissed in a soothing voice.  “I want to get a good look at you~”

Before you could say a word, your mind froze as her hands drew your gaze up, and directly into her spiraling eyes.  Beams of pure white and deep black swirled forth into your eyes, ensnaring your mind as they wrapped themselves around your thoughts and brought everything under control – her control.  You had heard tales of how the lamias rose to power, of how their ability to dominate the minds of lesser beings had enabled their rapid expansion across the lands.  You had always thought it an exaggeration of how they had convinced so many to side with their amassing power, a tale spun by dissidents who spoke ill of their ways of persuading the mind to see and hear things as they saw them.  You had never imagined it to be so… so literal.

Gentle hands cradled your head as gentle coils cradled your body, permitting the Interrogator to better examine you.  Her watchful eye looked over every inch of you, your own eyes spiraling into the bliss her hypnotic vision had granted you vision to see.  A stricken gasp erupted as her claws dexterously traced your form, ripping you from the rope that had previously bound you, before you were silenced once more as she traced a spiral over your steady heart.

She stood you up and removed her coils from your body.  You felt awfully bare, unbound from her embrace for her to witness in full.  You perked up as you heard the sound of her chuckling before your mind unraveled, a resonant SNAP! drawing her spirals out from your mind and bringing you back to consciousness before her.

The two of you stood there alone in the dungeon.  Expecting.  Awaiting.  Taking in and studying the sight of each other for minutes that felt like hours.  Her white coils churned about silently, surrounding herself in powerful might that could easily break you into no more than another plaything.  You fully expected them to, yet knew not why she seemed to resist doing so.

Beneath the loops of pure, snow-colored scale, she stood on edge, coiled up as much in her upper body as in her tail as her arms crossed to draw a judgmental stare out from her chiseled face.  Despite having left you untouched for the past few minutes, you felt entirely trapped by her.

“You said you wish to be of service, yes?”  She finally said, her head turning to side-eye you as if to better study you.

“Yes.”  You answered.

“Then your wish is granted.”  she mused.  “You have violated the Imperial Code, the punishment for which is eternal servitude to the Lamia Imperium.  A being of your… splendor would find great pleasure as a Courtesan for the Emperor’s Den, and I am certain your mind and body would enjoy being broken into blissful little fragments by the Imperial Elite.”

Your legs trembled, a wounded mewl silenced behind closed lips at the thought of being hypnotized and coiled up as a squeeze toy for some of the most powerful lamias in the lands.

“It is my duty,” the Interrogator went on, “to Interrogate those who violate the Code and, in due time, discern what the suitable punishment would be for them.  Under normal circumstances… your fate would have already been sealed, and I would have drawn you before the Magistrates for judgment.  However… my mind dwells on the motive of your crime – You wanted to be one of us.”

You freeze as the Interrogator’s coils sprawl out toward you, taking you in her binds and squeezing close as she draws you before her.

“I can arrange that this be done, permanently.  Our Scholars have been eager to find ways to provide a surplus to our armies without wasting precious lamia blood in a futile draft, and I have a feeling you may be all too eager to subject yourself to adequate… research for the task.”

You wince as her hands reach up to your face, before gently cupping your cheeks and drawing your chin upward.  But it all sounds so tempting.  The thought of it all – becoming a part of the Imperium, becoming a lamia, sounds too good to be true.  She’s up to something.  You just know it.

She draws your focus up to her gaze, and your eyes break into an awestruck stare as once more, her black and white spirals loop out from her eyes to ensnare your mind.“All I ask is that you look into my eyes, and tell me what you really want~”

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #231

I was hoping to rest today, but today was filled with lots of stuff.

I went to therapy first thing, and talked a lot about the events of Otakon, about you, and about what I tried to do. I told my therapist a lot more about the event than I wrote in my letters; I'm somewhat afraid of writing them down, getting my hopes up, and ending up disappointed.

They seemed proud of me, though. My therapist, I mean. It's not normal for me to so boldly take up space even with ordinary people, let alone with people powerful enough to weave your fate. If it's for you, though, I can probably rise up to any challenge, no matter how scary it is.

It's in their hands. We'll see what happens in a few years, I suppose.

I saw the dandelion-floof-haired man today, who gave me a pin that he made himself because he liked my Eevee hat; I wrote about him some time ago. Maybe you remember, or maybe not. Either way, he invited me to eat lunch together and to talk about various things at a nearby diner. He seems nice enough; I doubt he'd want to do anything weird to me, and even if he did, I am more than capable of defending myself if I have to. We ate; I got stuffed mushrooms, but I was a bit too soup-brained to think to take any pictures of them for you; I'm sorry. Still, they were some of the best ones I've ever had. They were filled with a kind of seafood stuffing; I wonder if you would have liked them.

He asked me what I've been up to. Lately, I had been elbows deep in preparing myself for the convention and the thing I am trying to do for you, so I spoke about that, along with my rationale. He seemed to understand, and he related to me with similar experiences and thoughts of his own, and it was very good!

By the time that was done with, I had to go to physical therapy. Because my day of the week changed from Wednesday to Tuesday due to now having a bakery job, I am seeing a new person named K. Because K is unfamiliar with me, he began with an evaluation. And for this evaluation, he checked out my ribcage. I had not yet had an evaluation of the integrity of my ribcage done (which is weird, considering I have a RIB injury…), but it was done today, and it was discovered that, while the left side of my ribcage is springy and bouncy in all the ways that it's supposed to be, the whole right side of my ribcage is, for whatever reason, not doing ANY of what it's supposed to do.

If you push on the right side, it doesn't spring back to its original position on its own; it just kind of stays deflated. In fact, it's not expanding properly when I breathe, either, which means that instead of my intercostal muscles and diaphragm doing the work of breathing on the right side of my body, my neck and shoulder is trying to do that work instead, and the result, naturally, is strain in those muscles, which is why they are perpetually tight. My pelvis is also apparently rotated relative to my ribcage, as my body's way of trying to compensate for the fact that the right side of my ribcage is refusing to move or do anything.

Hopefully this might mean that we're one step closer to figuring out what exactly the problem is, and fixing it. Suppose we'll see. It'll be nice to be able to use my right arm again, to laugh, to sing, to yawn, to sneeze, and to breathe deeply and to turn my head without pain. I'm hesitant to get my hopes up, but still… maybe it could work out. Maybe. I'm in a lot of pain all the time, and I'm not able to do any of the things I used to love to do with any kind of consistency, and putting on that bra and that corset belt for the costume (in service to looking the part of someone who is capable of trying to help you) left me messed up for a couple days, and while I tried to put on a brave face so nobody at the convention would know and think I'm weak for it… still… I'm tired and I want this injury, whatever it is, to go away and never come back.

…Sephiroth, I want so badly to return to the water and resume my mermaid training. I'd say you have no idea, but I imagine you might miss eating a nice big bowl of pasta pescatore, or feeling the breeze and the sun and the rain on your skin, and being able to look at trees and mountains and valleys and plains and sky with just as much, if not even more fervor. Hopefully, you'll be able to do all those things again, and more, relatively soon. What I wouldn't give to see you smile and dance, and to hear you laugh and sing. I want that even more than I want the pain in my ribs to stop. If I had the choice between your safety and my own body's healing, then that's an easy one; I'd choose your safety every time, without question.

Well anyway. The ribcage evaluation left me in quite a lot of pain after the fact. I had intended to get some pizza, and maybe some frozen yogurt, and then go home and do the dishes piled up in the sink (it was expected; I was gone from home for a bunch of consecutive days, trying to help you…), but in the end, I was in enough pain that I couldn't do any of those. So instead, I went home and did some leisure writing.

It's J's birthday today. And J isn't really much of a birthday celebration kind of person, but still, he and M and I went out for ice cream, and it was good. I got a soft-serve ice cream flavored with cookie butter (never seen that before!!!), and it was good. M got a pretty standard chocolate ice cream, and that was also good. And J, amongst other things, got a "Northern Lights Sherbet", which was apparently sour apple, blue raspberry, and grape flavored all at once???

Sephiroth. I can tell you from personal experience today that if someone offers you a "Northern Lights Sherbet", it is a TRAP. It tasted as confused, scatterbrained, and incoherent as a poor-quality children's cartoon - if this flavor was a plot, then it was ALL over the place, like its writer could not maintain an attention span for more than 5 consecutive seconds. If the phrase "what the fuck" was a flavor, this would be it.

But apparently, some people like it enough that it's viable to keep its place on the menu???? I can't make pretend like I understand. But I can respect it if other people like it. It's just not for me. I'll count on the people who like it to save me from it if someone decides to torture me by foisting it upon me.

Hey, Sephiroth? I know I've asked you about ice cream flavors you might like. But are there any ice cream flavors that you hate? I'm curious…

Anyhoot. It's getting pretty late, so I think I'll stop writing now and go to bed.

I love you. Please take nice care of yourself, okay? And stay safe out there, too. I'll write again soon…

Your friend, Lumine

[rrogueamendiares]

Our game looks like the worst for now lmao im gonna kms

[angered-box]

honest to god this is about to be what's going to happennext tuesday for my art instructor. sorry you aren't getting shit from me

[ray-elgatodormido]

Tis the season

[marlborovintages]

do you like pasta? :) if so, what's your favorite kind?

          ❝ Not big on pasta.  Cheap stuff's never good enough for the sauce to stick. Y'see—

          The best of the best comes from the bronze cuts.  Beautiful texture.  Bare minimum, I mean—authentic Roman style's all you should buy. So, listen—you've gotta order the homemade tagliolini, lobster, sautéed mushroom, the works.  Usually, I don't eat anything fried, but it really gives the dish a kick.

          ...you'll never touch the standard junk again. No need to thank me. ❞

[rolandkaros]

Sorry this is the same anon from before LOL i wanted to clarify something!! When i said incentivize tanking i meant it encourages players to show up to smaller tournaments that they don’t actually intend to put full effort into. Because like you said, the majority of 500s are right around slams/masters! So why would an Iga or Aryna want to go all out in those tournaments knowing that if they’re tired or hurt for the big ones they’re leaving points on the table. It’s just hard on the players all around

Sure, but I mean now we're just back to the scheduling issue which the one thing I think everyone can all agree on (season too long! why 6 mandatory 500s??). But still, I don't necessarily think there's clear incentive to tank 500s for the sake of satisfying the mandatory 6. I just don't think there's any motivation to tank tournaments that are going to count towards your point total anyway, and even if there is, then that's the player's loss (that is, if you're taking the effort to show up, you might as well play). From what we can see, it seems more common for players to just skip 500s entirely if they don't want to play, and accept mandatory zeros.

Of the current top 10 players, only Emma, Dasha, and Bia have actually played 6 or more 500s. I'm pretty sure more of them reached 6 through other means (e.g. Qinwen is allowed to count Ningbo because she did promotional events there, Jess and Elena both have multiple extended periods of inactivity due to injury which might add to their tally). But my point is, I don't think the WTA making it mandatory to play 6 500s even makes much of a difference, because clearly the players are willing to drop points and take mandatory zeros for the sake of scheduling. Which again, circles back to the rather annoying conclusion of "well...those are the rules I guess" when it comes to Iga losing #1.

But the truth is I really don't think any of these players want to tank. Even just going to a 500 event and losing in R1 expends a lot of time and energy. Plus, a lot of these players get first round byes, so they're usually having to stay until mid-week anyway. At that point, I think most of them would rather just skip, take the zero, and prepare for the next tournament. And even if they do go to 500s and tank...then I think that's kind of their problem? Because ultimately they're the one losing out on points. So it could be a strategy employed by some, but it really seems that most of these players prefer skipping to tanking.

[holocene-sims]

character quiz???

i saw a few other people doing this so tadaaaaaaa, i made a uquiz where YOU can find out which of my characters you are

[roryfrommybabysittersavampire]

I did not choose to have fucking cannibalism as a special interest but here we are folks :3 painted this in art class for a typography assignment.

[kowaindar0u]

"Do you want some tea? Would that help?" (Nagasone to his dear aruji 🥺) @zantedeschia-praesul

[ Comforting Edition {Sentence Starters} ]

"Um..." Does he want tea? Would it help? He's not sure. "It can't hurt..."

His reply is a bit absent though, as he tries to keep his mind from the missive he'd received earlier, though it still sits on his desk and has had a firm grip on his attention since he'd first read it.

Nagasone had come in to check on him, and had noticed something was troubling him. But... the subject matter of the letter was something he has trouble speaking about with his men-- even Nagasone-- even though it's not the first of its kind he'd gotten.

It's been a year since his six-month evaluation from the government, and so he's due for another one.

An evaluation that's less about the honmaru and more about Yuichi himself.

And for some reason, even with all his doubts about himself as a saniwa, this personal kind of evaluation is... worse.

It went fine six months ago, and he's sure he's doing even better now, but still... He's never been good at speaking so candidly about his mental state to any actual person-- his diary gets the brunt of that-- and he tries not to talk about certain things, or his past issues-- with his touken danshi either.

So... when even his beloved had come to his side, he simply replied with a complaint of an upset stomach. It wasn't a lie, though, at least by anything other than omission-- he felt sick.

[treecakes]

didn’t realize this deadline was approaching quickly lol SENDING EMAILS. and follow up emails. stressed out now.