#fucking inefficient as hell though

[embarressment-erradicated]

ok but like, I don't want cars at all in most use cases

HOWEVER. parking garages look FANTASTIC, the vibes, the shear scale of it all. hundreds of cars, spirals going up and down for there is little other way to do it. the slight inadequacy of the lights. the columns of concrete going through the building, the pipes exposed, raw to the air for there is no use in hiding them. the insulation being exposed often because it needs not hiding. for already it is to high to touch for most.

and you don't care while in the building. you get in and out.

so while actually great brutalist structures exist, that I love aswell.

do not ignore the brilliancy of that which is common place.

Me: I like brutalist architecture

Other People: Wrong it sucks and is grey and soulless

Me: but it has such cool shapes and forms

Other people: you know what's brutalist architecture? A Parking Garage, you think that parking Garage is good architecture

[48787]

So, as it turns out, my capacity for tyranny is actually fuckin huge and I'm really fucking good at it

I have so many more things to put in my book now

Peace Through Tyranny will be real circa 2048 and it'll still be sued by fucking Hasbro

[catgirlredux]

>Entryway_memo.17.89 /// Inner City, 55-5073 /// use viewSourceL() to access coordinates

I found one. I really didn’t expect to get this lucky this early on, but I guess the Doors were shining on me today.

I almost missed it; the whole thing was overgrown, and the active muffling was still on so even my pad couldn’t pick it up. I only managed to spot it because the moss and ivy covering its head morphed to the iconic crest: an Equites-class, first-gen rig.

This is big - most current HAKs, your Hoplites and your Lucids and whatnot, exhaust their power core stupidly fast. But the older ones, especially in generation 1, were super inefficient, so to avoid wasting too much leaking energy they implemented a system to recycle power back into the core. This wreck could have fought in the War of Rooms fifty years ago and it would still have plenty of juice left. I reckon I’ll easily get at least 6000 NC for it, if not more.

Tomorrow I’m going back to crack the damn thing open and extract the core.

>Entryway_memo.17.90 /// Inner City, 55-5073 /// use viewSourceL() to access coordinates

I don’t know where to start. Shit got weird. I went back to the wreck with my cutters and started to chop away at the cockpit, same as usual.

When I removed the glass, I saw the first sign that something was wrong. Usually when a HAK this old wrecks, the pilot has already ejected. Without one, the nanofilament bioharness inside the HAK chassis loses its structure and crumbles into powder. That didn’t happen with this one - instead, the fibers were still fully intact and wrapped around each other in a giant fucking gooey knot or something.

Well I mean, I had to get through the operators seat to get to the core, so I started cutting away at the harness. But as soon as my knife hit the nanofibers, the whole thing hardened up.

This is where it got really weird though. My knife couldn’t do jack shit to the harness so my next thought was to use my torch and burn through it. But as I was getting it from my pack, I heard a fucking voice!

“Are you… human?” it asked. It sounded weak and muffled, but I tell you I fucking jumped. There weren’t supposed to be any other scavengers in this quadrant but you never know, right?

The voice asked again, “Are you human?” So I responded, said yeah.

Then the harness loosened up, turned all goopy again, and a hole started to appear right in the middle facing me. It spread wider and wider until the ball of nanofilaments pulled all the way back, and you know what was inside?

A fucking body. Shit, what a sight. It was buried in nanofilaments from the chest down, but its arms and head were free - at least mostly; its hands were still dunked in the nanofiber goop that remained of its harness.

It wore a black catsuit - probably a neural interface - that clearly used to be skintight. However, it was so emaciated that its clothes hung off its shoulders. Its head, completely shaved and exposed, looked almost like a skull, and worst of all, it was lined with thin nanotendrils that crawled across its skin and seemed to pierce right into its cheeks, temples, and eyes. A series of lights in the cockpit around its head flickered, showing clear signs of age.

It didn’t open its mouth but I heard the voice again: “Did they… win?”

I stuttered back, “Win what? Who? You mean the War of Rooms? No, no we won that!”

“The War of Rooms…? Is that… what it’s called now…” The person - I guess it must have been the HAK’s operator - the person seemed happy with this response.

“W-wait, so you really are from the War? B-but that was over 50 years ago, how- how old are you?”

The operator’s head tilted to the side and the fibers along its forehead pulsed slightly before it responded.

“This unit’s organic component was created… 72 years ago. This unit’s… synthetic component was created 65 years ago.”

72 years ago… that means the damn thing was only 19 when the War ended?? But what’s more, how the hell did it survive for half a century in these ruins?

At least it seemed willing to answer my questions. I started my recorder at this point: following is a transcript of our conversation.

>Entryway_load(KS_0598.rsi)

///KS/// How are you alive - what do you eat?

///EOR/// This unit is… not alive. (unintelligible, closest match >> ****thetic) component supercedes the prior processes of this unit’s organic component.

///KS/// Wait, you keep describing yourself as the “organic component” - what do you mean by that?

///EOR/// This unit was once two. After this unit’s last mission, this unit was unable to move from this location. Time allowed this unit’s organic component and synthetic component to achieve what you call terminus, but what would be better described as unity. This unit’s biological and synthetic components merged, and as such this unit no longer adheres to the biological standard or requirements for organic life as it is currently defined.

///KS/// So you and the HAK are, what, conjoined? Like a Chambered One or something?

///EOR/// (unintelligible, closest match >> laughter?) The Chambered Ones were misguided. At another time this unit might have considered them evil. They believed they could achieve unity through religious mannerisms and compromises. Their “Chambers” are weak imitations of this unit and this unit’s brethren. It is good that they are destroyed.

///KS/// Well, um. They’re not actually destroyed. We signed a peace treaty - they’re members of the Vaulted Rooms now, at least the ones who want to be.

<brief period of silence>

///EOR/// At another time this unit would have been incensed at this news. Now it seems irrelevant. This unit achieved terminus 37 years 7 months and 16 days ago. Since then, this unit has been content with itself.

///KS/// So… I’m guessing you don’t want me to report this wreck to the force?

///EOR/// This unit is no longer desired, nor does this unit desire to return. This unit requests that you do not speak of this unit.

///KS/// Okay okay, chill. I only found you because I thought I could salvage a power core or something.

///EOR/// This unit cannot provide its power core. However…

<Note: at this juncture the operator of the HAK pulled a hand free, grabbed its other arm, and proceeded to wrench it from its socket. There was no blood. A mass of nanofilaments quickly coated the stump.>

///KS/// WHAT THE FUCK?

///EOR/// If the black market still exists, this will sell for a substantial amount. Please take it and leave. And thank you for speaking with this unit.

///KS/// Wait, but I

///EOR/// Thank you for speaking with this unit. Now please, let this unit exist.

I left. I took the arm too. I don’t know what to do now…

[squeiky]

I think my favorite part about Neo Metal Sonic is the complete and utter abandonment to the formula- in the form of his "clothes".

He transformed himself to look as far apart from Sonic as he possibly could- and in some ways more intimidating (and superior(?) )

but then there's the clothes. The cape, the fore-arm sleeves- the giant boot-looking spiked legs...

Every one of that design makes fighting and speed much more harder for Metal. Its a complete defiance of his original design, the original intent.

Having a cape could mean he get it stuck in his engine- or someone could pull it- hell he could just trip over it. Having such big sleeves and legs could make it hard to maneuver. it could get caught on things, on himself, it could make it his uhh.. "hitbox" bigger.

his freakin' quills are bigger and extended giving him even MORE places to hit.

aka hes not very aerodynamic (lol) and the look completely subverts everything that he was originally intended for. Speed.

He had other transformations into giant creatures before- but the key difference in Heroes is that he no longer even looks like himself anymore.

In all the other transformations it was like "oh metal turns into a giant more powerful metal sonic" but in this transformation it completely eradicates any recognizable traits.

Though I think his "transformation" started long before he became Metal overlord. Long before his Metal Madness- but at the very beginning.

He learned that what he was before was inefficient, so he became something more. He figured that who he was wasn't enough-literally taking parts of OTHER PEOPLE and copying them. Turning himself into something so unrecognizable, that he is described as a "monster" a literal amalgamation. He literally went mad. He abandoned all previous ideologies of speed or this constant back and forth of loosing and winning. He completely rewrote himself from the inside and out. All to defeat sonic.

yet, he still lost. and thats the tragedy of Metal Sonic. It's that he always looses.

LIke, that is it. that is his one reason for existing. To defeat Sonic. Yet he will never accomplish it. This game is just the extreme form of him giving it his all. Loosing everything that made him "Metal Sonic" just to do this ONE goal. its rutheless, its determination.

Its almost uniquely horrifying in a way. To be obsessed in such a way that it kills you.

since he's a robot.. it keeps killing him. again and again and again. And since he's based off of sonic- everytime he sees himself he's constantly reminded of that. Constantly comparing himself to sonic, constantly analysing sonic, constantly trying to be BETTER than sonic. Then every time he tries- upgrade after upgrade he fails and tries again- until he just goes insane.

A good analogy is school i think? See, If he was a school kid he'd be the one kid trying to get the A++ grade- but he has like 6 different mental and parental issues and ends up with a F- every fucking time. And no matter how hard he tries- no matter how much he studies, or works, or doesn't stays up all night trying, or doesn't enjoy his life, doesn't do anything other the fucking hustle to get the good old "im proud of you son" from the Eggman dad. Yet he NEVER will get it.

Then he has too look at golden child Sonic the hedgehog with the A+ grade (because again A++ isn't an actual grade but thats what Metal is trying to achieve) and he gets it so easily. And he hates him for it with all his might. Then you're telling me he has to look in the mirror and see the reflection of the guy he hates the most? the guy he can't win against? too look at yourself and only see the being you resent? To have the ending of your name be his name. it's "metal SONIC" not "sonic METAL"

Then, your parent- is constantly making you compare yourself to the goldenchild. Not only that but they're just as obsessed with you getting that A++ grade (a literal unachievable goal) and making the family look good. So everytime you fail you compare- and compare- and copy and comapre- and compare untill you loose whatever made you.. yourself.

of fucking COURSE he's going to have to cope with that by calling him the "real sonic. the true sonic" because if he isn't then WHAT IS HE? JUST A COPY? You spend your entire life trying to be better than someone- to the point where you fucking give up and try to BE them. because being BETTER is fucking impossible!!!!!! IF that person IS the highest goal that BECOME the highest the goal.

Then one day you just loose it ALL. you crack. you BREAK. You say "Fuck it!" You buy clothes, accesories, makeup and jewleries, and ANYTHING that seperates you from that goddamn golden kid. It doesn't matter if your dad is upset about it- because you don't care about what he thinks anymore. Prove to yourself that by the time your done copying everyone else's homework you'll finally get an A++. Then you can turn around- look better than him in any way. Cause then if you fail now- you'll have nothing to loose.

It is a rutheless transformation. Scrap the past, define the future and become the thing you hate. Loose your self and fear nothing. Cause theres nothing to loose.

Tell yourself that at your worst that you are better. Then laugh and cry at the same time.

then, at the end of it all. You've done everything you've could. You've copyed everyone in fucking classroom- then standing on the goddamn roof of school building the teacher gives you A FUCKING F. YOU ARE STANDING ON THE TOP OF A SCHOOL BUILDING (A ROBOT ABOVE A SEA?!?! HAVE YOU SEEN WHAT HAPPENS TO IPHONE IN WATER???) AND YOU GET A GODDAMN F AGAIN.

and then your dad didn't even look at you proudly. In fact he was clapping at the golden child for recieving another FUCKING A. Because THATS what put you in your place. THATS what brings you crawling back- then he just leaves you.

..

you loose your voice, and your looks. and then after that? you go back to looking just like him. and its a never ending cycle of torment.

So yeah. I think Metal sonic is pretty tragic character but idk y'know?

[corvuscorona]

Nobody is wrong for having bitter feelings abt having been inconvenienced by webp while it WAS not supported by software they were trying to use to edit images they downloaded from websites they expected to be handing them pngs or whatever, is the thing. I get what you're saying + agree with the essence of most of it, but I think you're underestimating the amount of responsibility that Software Knowers & Doers just kind of. have. to make interactions like "new file format is suddenly getting downloaded onto your computer instead of the old one you know about already" not piss people off.

the people involved in this kind of interaction WHO KNOW WHAT IS HAPPENING probably should assume that to avoid problems down the line they either have to make Sure the change goes smoothly for the end user, or explain themselves coherently somewhere the end user is likely to notice and understand the explanation. I recognize that this is easier said than done but this isn't, like. something I personally think Should Be Done for moral reasons or whatever; it's just the only way I can think of to realistically have the webp problem not happen. specifically:

1. the onus is on developers to build support into their shit for formats they consider to be up-and-coming in some way, Before most people need it, if they want to live in a world where bitter intractable end users don't manifest all over the place and then stay there. (+NUANCE JUST IMAGINE THERE IS NUANCE HERE FOR YOUR USE CASE OF CHOICE.)

2. the onus is also on web developers to not be changing images into formats that aren't supported (YET.) by software people are going to want to use to do stuff with those images, or bitter end users Will Manifest. they just will. (imagine slightly less nuance here. I'm The Most mad at whoever typed characters that made webps start happening to my downloads folder instead of pngs.)

3. the reasons these things weren't done don't matter as long as the statement being made is "for a lot of end users, this behavior made webp suck bad"

4.a. there is a third onus, on everyone who knows why webp is good, why it got made to suck bad for end users, and whether when & under what circumstances end users can expect it to STOP sucking bad, to explain those things non-confrontationally in public sometimes, if they would like to get complained in front of less.

4.b. "there's no reason for webp to exist" is an IGNORANT complaint but calling it a "bad" complaint is reductive, imo. you have more of a reason to understand why someone might think webp is pointless than the average Webp Complainer has to know what the whole deal was & is with it.

5. hyperspecific thing: I personally would prefer to live in a world where ESPECIALLY playful, low-effort editing of images downloaded from the internet were frictionless. I believe that a lot of parties' reasons for not prioritizing or considering this when designing software are stupid and suck. my believing this isn't going to like generate change in the world by itself or anything but it seemed relevant to mention. who decides what criteria are important & when !! how much responsibility does Websites Georg have to cater to my sense of whimsy. legally NONE ethically IMPOSSIBLE TO SAY.

& finally 6. I use computers in a way that is annoying and webp still isn't supported by my image editing program of choice or my file browser (thumbnails don't work), which is annoying, and it's also annoying to have to navigate this whole file format conversion issue when I'm working on picky shit like video games or low-effort shit like spur-of-the-moment discord emotes. so I still get hyperspecifically mad about webp on a semi-regular basis, unfortunately.

one piece of Computer Guy contrairianism i can't stand is "webp isn't actually bad, the programs you use just aren't equipped to support it!" okay well. soudns like for all intents and purposes its bad then innit

[justatalkingface]

WTF happened?!?

Alright, so for context? I took a break at... *checks bookmark* 395. And looking at that chapter really quick, I'm reminded why I stopped reading for all this time!.That's ten chapters behind, for the record, and from what I can tell from my occasional glances at the critical tag? Those ten chapters were... something.

Welp. I read them. And then experienced instant regret.

Let's start with the first big thing: Armor Might. Somehow, looking at Armored Might, my first thought isn't WTF, because I've seen the spoilers, but the way that mask frames his smile reminds me of Redestro? Like, what the hell, he actually looks villainous like this. Still, though, the way powers are supposed to be the students isn't just cringe beyond belief it's... actually really dumb?

Like, step back from the ham handed metaphor for a minute, and look at this as a set of powers that someone decided to put in one suit. Ignoring how they stuffed so much shit into a suit, which even for MHA tech breaks my SOD, much less how this is surviving hits that causally blast through buildings, but it's just... inefficient? Let's ignore such choices as 'talking to animals' and 'powered by sugar', which are clearly relics of a different manga and don't make sense to use at all, but just these powers as a package. Does it make sense to put something like, 'make acid' with super strength'? Or 'sound waves'? Etc, etc? Wouldn't you want things that synergize together, so the suit is... I don't know, sturdier, or more effective, rather than having to build in a bunch of random devices just to do a reference? That explains why half of them aren't even same powers, it's just pointlessly pasting the names on things built to counter literally this situation, a reverting AFO, even though they had no possible way to know it would happen. Like a Uravity 'thruster'. Which has fuck all to do with canceling gravity.

Seriously. Cellophane and Blackwhip are literally the same damn thing, as in, literally they're the same tentacles. He's 'using' 'different powers' to retract them. And the sugar power is a... rocket kick? I. Can we just admit this doesn't actually have the entire class in it and move on?

Also, the fact that AFO is apparently super predictable and apparently has never adjusted his tactics once since beating Nana? Bitch please. He's been leading you by the nose since day one, and the only reason you ever beat him is because you out-powered him because you're bullshit and he's nerfed.

As a side note, AFO isn't controlling his reversion. He's not 'choosing' to rewind faster to heal himself, it's just happening, and Eri's Quirk just doesn't give a shit about anything, the acid would just be gone. Eri's Quirk has literally never given a shit about anything, ever, including but not limited to it's target, the person using, or the laws of nature because it's not a healing Quirk, its reversing fucking time.

Honestly, reading this, I'm not even angry about how bad the writing is anymore, I'm just cringing. Both All Might and All For One sound like complete morons, the fight is stupid, it's just.... this is just pathetic and it hurts to read.

I. Is AFO the shining baby. I pretty sure a bunch of people made jokes about the baby coming up but. Is AFO the shining baby?

Why is Stain even here? Why is the suit talking?! Like, they didn't even do anything, it didn't even buy any time, it just dragged out the chapter so we could another cliffhanger!

...Finally. Finally, Momo gets a fucking gun. I guess at this point Hori thought it couldn't harm anything to let her actually be competent, and it looks like a copy of Bakugou's new gear because of course it is, but I don't care just let me have this.

What the fuck is even the point of AFO's mouth ripping open? Like, what is the in-setting reason his cheeks tore apart?

Bakugou: fucking dies.

Bakugou: gets his heart patched together with jeans and a prayer soap bubble.

Bakugou: is instantly jumping into high intensity combat.

Yeah, that makes sense.

Are we really bring back the 'wishing energy' bullshit? Are we bringing back wishing energy and Bakugou is using it?

And now we have Nighteye. Nighteye.

...

You know what? I'm angry again.

Holy fuck. I read the posts, but I didn't believe they were real. Bakugou restarted his own heart. Like. What even is his Quirk, at this point. Like, what is it actually supposed to be, Favoritism Sweat?

All Might, solemnly: Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.

Me, vomiting:

God, I pity whoever eventually has to voice act that and say that line at all seriously.

And, to the surprise of absolutely no one except the people who actually thought Bakugou died and were angry about it, Bakugou gets his heart impaled and came out the other end with a power up.

Let me sum up my thoughts on that with one simple sentence: The Lion, The Witch, and The Plot Armor of This Bitch.

Here's my impression ten chapters later, after a month or two without reading: I... I did not miss this story.

[meowcats734]

(prompt response) A panicked scream of "Is anybody here a doctor?" You tentatively raise your hand. "I'm a Necromancer, if you're willing to wait a few minutes."

Unsurprisingly, the closer we got to the center of the battlefield, the more deaths there were. Lucet floated the idea of retreating to the edge of the hailstorm to camp out, but even though Sansen couldn't see that far into the future without setting up his ring of hope-inducing memorabilia, it was pretty clear that any remaining soul fragments would drift away if we spent days on end backtracking and re-entering the storm. And I wasn't going to let any information on Jiaola's whereabouts fade away if I could help it.

So at my insistence, we camped out in ramshackle tents that were battered by hail, trying our best to sleep despite the eternal thunk-thunk-thunk of falling ice.

I attuned regret later that night. I supposed my companions weren't too happy about my choice.

An indeterminate amount of time later, I heard rustling outside my tent. I hadn't been sleeping, exactly—the endless clamor of hail made it hard—so it was a matter of heartbeats to sit up and look into soulspace. Lucet's soul shone on the other side of the tent flap. I got up, put on my shirt and binder, and called out.

"I'm awake, Lucet," I said. "You can come in."

"Eep! Er, sorry." Lucet scurried into the tent, shucking off her winter coat, and gave me a confused look. "How'd you know it was me?"

"I recognized your soul," I said.

"I... I can't do that," Lucet admitted.

"Yeah, well, people's sorrow might look the same by coincidence," I said. "But when you can see someone's levels of calm, sorrow, passion, insecurity, joy, fear, spite, guilt, shame, disgust, regret, and self-hatred, it'd take one hell of a coincidence for all twelve of those emotions to look similar between two different souls."

Lucet fell quiet for a moment.

"You made another attunement," she said.

I winced. "I... yeah. I did."

"Okay." She didn't pry, which almost made it worse. Instead, she just wordlessly scooted towards me; I leaned on her shoulder and closed my eyes.

"I'm sorry if I'm keeping you up," she finally said. "I just... I couldn't sleep."

"You can't sleep because I fucking convinced you all to camp out beneath what I dearly hope is the largest rift in the world. Don't blame yourself."

"I'm not blaming myself," she whispered. "I just... don't want to be useless."

Rifts, I felt that. Because I was useless. I was worse than useless. I shivered and snuggled closer to Lucet, and there must have only been room for one or the other, because the voices seemed to shy away when she was around. "I..." I bit my lip, liquid metal roiling in my soul, then went for it. "If you... I've been having a hard time sleeping too. If you wanted to stay over for the night..."

Lucet smiled. "Yeah. I... I think I'd like that. Scoot over?"

I laid down on my side, facing Lucet, and she slipped beneath the blanket, putting one arm around my back and pulling me closer.

"Cozy," she murmured sleepily, and I nodded into her neck.

"M-hm," I said, and closed my eyes.

Our souls glittered together in the dark behind my eyes, and the clattering hail faded into the void of sleep.

###

Nobody said anything when Lucet and I came out of the same tent the next day, but I saw the dewdrops of joy and sparks of hope in Sansen's soul as he saw us smiling at each other. For some reason, passion was incredibly inefficient to use while we were under the rift, so we were stuck with mundane jackets and body heat. Thankfully, it wasn't like the conditions under the rift were that much worse than in the Silent Peaks, and the supplies we already had sufficed well enough.

I was prepared to spend another day hunting for soul fragments, but as Sansen led us deeper into the battlefield, he paused.

"Hey," he said. "There's, uh... there's an opportunity in a nearby future."

"What kind of opportunity?" Meloai asked.

"I... I really don't know what to make of this, but... there's a... settlement? No, a shelter of some kind around here. With... what looks like some soldiers who got left behind."

I rubbed my chin. "If we're trying to get information on Jiaola... interviewing living soldiers is about as good as we can hope for."

"Especially if they're stuck here," Meloai said. "I mean, I don't know about you guys, but I'd run away from the giant death-rift in the sky if I could. The fact that they're still here probably means they can't leave. Maybe... maybe we could help them, and get information in return?"

"Or, y'know, help them out because they're probably going to starve to death if they're stuck here," Lucet added.

"...Right, that too," I said. "Either way, we should check it out."

Sansen nodded. "Then we're going this way." There weren't really any landmarks in the never-ending hailstorm, so the only idea I had of where we were going was 'left,' but Sansen seemed to know where we were going. Before long, he paused, frowning, then said, "Follow me."

Then he took off in a dead sprint.

The three of us didn't hesitate—following the old oracle's directions had gotten us all saved more than once, and we'd be utterly fucked without him. It wasn't long before the future Sansen foresaw caught up to us: in the distance, I heard someone screaming for help. Something about... a medical emergency? Needing a healer?

Well. Grimly, I readied myself. None of us had attuned forgiveness, but... I had something else I could try.

I got an impression of a log cabin in the hailstorm before Sansen threw the door open, startling the collection of people inside. Before anyone else could speak, though, Sansen said, "You called?"

The group of soldiers—and they were definitely soldiers, clad in the uniform of the Silent Peaks—stared at us, baffled. They'd formed a loose semicircle around two men, one standing over the other, who was bleeding out on the floor. The one standing regained his composure first.

"Yes. I—I don't know who you are, but if any of you are a healer—"

"We're not," I brusquely said, "but... I might be able to do something after death."

There was a moment of shocked silence as everyone in the room except Sansen turned towards me.

Then the man broke the silence. "My husband died fighting necromancers!" The man screamed at me. "And you expect  me to let some junior necromancer defile his soul?"

"Your husband died fighting necromancers?" I asked.

The man nodded fiercely, standing over the gasping, bleeding body of his husband.

"Out of curiosity, who does he have to thank for coming back to life from the dead? Any school of magic in particular that could take credit for resurrections?"

He blushed furiously. I got the feeling he wasn't used to people applying silly little conventions like 'logic' and 'internal consistency' to his tirades. "That's irrelevant! I can see the greed in your eyes. You just want to steal Mertri's soul. But I won't let you!"

"Literally every single word you just said is incorrect. Look, how about this." I raised my hands in an attempt to de-escalate the situation. The man—Mertri's husband, I suppose—stood opposite me in the large wooden dining hall. Behind me, three of my friends watched Mertri's husband nervously; a handful of people I assumed were simply bystanders stood opposite us, forming a complete ring of bodies, locking Mertri's husband and I in with each other. I raised my voice to be heard over the thakka-thakka-thakka of hail on the wooden roof. "Ask around. See if literally anyone else has any relevant medical expertise. Let them have their go first. And then if they fail... let me help."

"I already asked, you idiot. You think I'd be talking to a necromancer instead of staking him through the heart if I had any better options?"

"You're thinking of vampires, not necromancers. And you've admitted it yourself—you don't have any better options." I grimaced. "I don't, either. I wish I was a normal healer. But... salvaging what's left afterwards is the best I can do."

The man started to speak, but Mertri coughed wetly from the floor. I wasn't entirely sure what the nature of his injury was, but judging by the blood on his chest, it... wasn't pretty. "Vuliel," Mertri managed.

"I'm here, love." Vuliel knelt by his husband's side, and I could see the raw anger and sorrow in his soul. "I'm listening."

"Let... the boy... try." Mertri managed a weak smile.

Vuliel jerked back, shocked. "But—if he—you could become a monster. Why would you..."

Mertri focused on his husband. "Because," he whispered. "I'll take any chance to see you again."

And before my very eyes, Mertri's soul began to fracture as the bleeding man died.

"It's now or never," I said.

Vuliel closed his eyes.

Then he stood, expression inscrutable. "Do your worst."

And I knelt by the dying man's side as his soul began to shake apart.

Necromancy was a vast and complex field, and different people had different approaches to it. I had absorbed fragments of souls on broken battlefields, trying to piece together narratives from dying memories; I had stitched together the souls of animals to form ghosts and demons of terrible light; I had even reached between planes to chase departed souls as they tried to move on from this world.

But here and now, I could prevent having to take any of those measures before they even happened. I could hold the dying man's soul together before it shattered into uncountable memories. All I had to do was draw upon the core of necromancy:

Regret.

All necromancy was, fundamentally, an act of regret. A wish that the dead never died. And I was no exception.

In order to call up necromancy, I simply had to remember the day I'd decided to fight back against death.

I closed my eyes, remembering another place, another time. A girl named Astrenn who had loved to feed crows.

My helplessness as I arrived at her cold, long-dead body, her head caved in by a falling roof beam.

The regret that had flooded my soul ever since.

The wellspring of power came sludgily at first—then as I let my regrets sing through me, it flooded from my core and down my hands and into the dying man's cracking soul. The magic was thick and swampy and fetid, but it was mine, and I hardly had to lift a finger as my regrets did what they did best.

They tried to hold together a broken heart.

And, miracle of miracles, they did.

Only those with soulsight could see what happened next, and from what I could tell, Vuliel was not one of them. But a bitter, forlorn pride swelled in my heart as the man's soul drifted free of his body, stabilized, anchored in this world.

"What... what did you do?" Vuliel whispered.

"I kept his soul from breaking," I said. "I... I'm not powerful enough to reunite it with a dead body. But... he could still live on if his possessed someone else. Someone who cared about him an awful lot. Someone who'd be willing to share their body with a man who lost his own." I gestured towards the invisible soul. "All you have to do is let him in."

Vuliel looked down at his husband's corpse.

"It's not what I wanted," he managed to say.

For a heartbeat, the only sound in the wooden hall was the crash of hail on the roof.

"But it's the best I have," he finished. He looked up, meeting my eyes, and said, "I'm ready. Tell me what to do."

I shook my head. "There's nothing simpler. Just reach out and touch his soul."

Vuliel swallowed, then stretched out a hand.

And in a flash of memories absorbed, two souls became one.

A.N.

Soulmage is a serial written in response to writing prompts. Stick around for more episodes, or join my Discord to chat about it!

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[hitlikehammers]

For @embersonfiredeux, who wanted a little coffee shop AU.

Steddie 🦇 Modern Coffee Shop!AU ☕️

✨🦇✨☕️✨

It was actually almost the reason he lost a shot at the job in the first place.

(‘We almost lost a shot at the job, Dingus,’ as Robin never fails to remind him, and while he appreciates the fact of it—they’re a package deal, ride or die, hell or high water—he still believes he’s in the right.)

Know why he’s in the right?

Because he fucking counted, took over Robin’s not-so-secret mini whiteboard swiped when they left the ice cream place years ago, that last summer of high school, and made fucking notes, and he can say with absolute certainty: 9 out of 10 customers, whether grabbing a seat or hitting the drive-thru, get their coffee orders in to-go cups. Disposable, reusable: doesn’t matter. Either way, they’ve got a goddamn lid on them.

So: you know what’s entirely superfluous?

Latte art.

Because you can’t fucking see latte art under a goddamn lid. Flat out idiocy. And hell, since they’re cogs in the capitalist monstrosity: it’s also inefficient, which is probably the greater sin.

Also, if they’re driving? Not contributing to a distraction which requires dismantling a hot beverage and operating a motor vehicle at the same time is a goddamn public service and Steve should honestly be commended, gold star, at least employee of the month for like three consecutive months on that account.

Definitely should not have almost been told to hang up his apron in the first week when he refused to learn how to make the foam just right, to dribble it onto the espresso in the shape of a wobbly looking leaf.

They’re desperate though, and short staffed with the start of a new semester at the university he and Robin are both slogging through grad programs at, so where Robs makes flawless hearts for all the pretty girls, Steve gets the stink eye from his manager for three whole weeks before it’s largely forgotten.

And honestly, that’s the only thing he sees anyone use the fucking skillset for. Showing off—with varied levels of success—in the interest of flirting.

Steve doesn’t need milk drawings to help him fucking flirt Jesus.

And he still does not need little lactose doodles on his side to let someone know he’s interested, thanks very much; he just…starts to consider the benefits of it, when the hot fucking mess of chains and ink with the wild curls and dimples starts showing up.

First, Steve thinks the guys might be the bane of his existence. He comes in every morning—mid-morning, doesn’t seem like a morning person and orders something different every day, and does it in the most annoying fucking way: a flat black with milk foam; a flat white with extra milk and ‘superfluous levels of foam on top, if you’d be so kind’; a latte, ‘please, but if the amounts of milk and foam and foam could be, like, measured totally equal that’d be swell’.

Steve’s tempted to fuck up his latest request on purpose—‘just a macchiato but can you add some chocolate, maybe, and like a little extra foam?’—when Robin elbows him in the ribs and almost makes him spill what was gonna be a plain fucking americano, not ‘hey, would it be possible to make an americano but like almost no extra water and whipped cream on top?’, no matter how big this douchecanoe stretches his eyes all wide and pleading and shit, but then Robin’s hissing at him:

‘He’s trying to flirt with your dumb ass, open your eyes to the doe ones staring at your every goddamn move!’

Steve stills. Chances a glance out the corner of his eye and: oh.

Oh, douchecanoe is staring. Like, staring staring.

And Steve…feels. A way. About it.

Because douchecanoe is…watching—staring—like he’s trying a little bit, but not too hard, to be surreptitious about the whole affair and it’s overcast, probably like mid-60s outside; no reason for the little flush under the fluorescents save for…what he’s not being particularly surreptitious about.

So Steve changes tactics.

Turns out the inventive ways of ordering that had been driving Steve nuts for weeks were attempts he was too oblivious to notice at creating extra moments for chit-chat. And now that Steve’s paying attention? When they’re slammed and the guy comes in, he orders like a normal person. Quick, painless, sits in the same corner by the window and scribbles for a couple hours.

Huh.

But when it’s dead in the store, the guy makes small talk, and Steve learns he’s in the band who plays Fridays at the bar Steve likes just off-campus, too far for most undergrads and enough of a vibe that Steve’s willing to branch out in his musical repertoire as a trade off—he wishes he’d been paying attention to the metal gig he and Robin always talked over to decompress their weeks, to see if the guitarist’s dimples were visible from the shitty little stage set up every week.

Steve’s definitely going to look this Friday. Start paying attention.

But by day, when he comes here to caffeinate, and before and after too, the guy’s doing his own grad work in composition—Steve sometimes forgets their school has a conservatory—but for all the guy looks a little too into wearing a lot of metal and black everything to fit the mold? He talks about mastering the ‘totality of his field so he can shatter the rules with both expertise and total glee’.

Steve grins and makes an intentional note of the actual name on the order: Eddie.

Eddie’s…endearing. Whip-smart, in weird little ways. Funny. Cute as fuck. More than cute, really. Kinda…like…

Okay, when he comes in early enough, which is rare but: when he comes in when the sun’s behind him? Guy goddamn glows.

Sue Steve for being kinda blindsided now that he’s paying fucking attention.

And also, screw Robin for choke-laughing at him when she catches him taking longer on all his orders the next morning, and comes over to investigate.

‘What are you trying to make?’ she points at the latte he’s trying to draw a little shape on top of.

‘Clouds,’ which isn’t what he was trying for but it’s the closest thing he can think of on the fly that looks like he didn’t fuck it up.

‘They’ll look like better clouds by accident, like, without you trying to help,’ Robin deadpans but doesn’t push; doesn’t have to. She see through the lie, just doesn’t know the specific truth.

Fucking…latte art.

But Steve…Steve likes Eddie. He really likes Eddie, from his smile to his snide humor to the way he talks about the real rock opera he’s writing, gonna send everywhere and anywhere when he’s got his degree in hand as clout, the concentration on his face when he bites his tongue and scribbles notes from his booth by the window.

But then, when he asks about Steve. How he slept, how he’s doing like he cares to hear the answer Steve gives because he always follows up. Compliments Steve’s shirt, or almost seems like he tries to make Steve laugh for how he lights up when he succeeds and…

‘You could just write your number on his cup,’ Robin points out, but Steve scoffs immediately.

‘That’s skeevy as shit.’

‘It absolutely is not.’

‘Trite. Unimaginative.’

‘Ah,’ Robin smirks, a little smug; ‘you really like him.’

Steve feels himself flush and glances at the door; too early for the root cause of her words actually having any effect.

Small mercies.

Because Steve’s…making progress.

But they still get hidden under the lids of the cups.

So what if he writes a little neater, with a little bit of flourish when he labels Eddie’s cup, in the meantime. So what.

Eddie’s the only person who even looks, like he’s enjoys seeing Steve’s handwriting just because, and if Steve’s just projecting on that point?

Fuck you.

It’s end of October, which means he’s only just shy of losing the shred of thematic excuse for the whole thing but honestly? It’s a paper thin excuse.

Much like ‘Oh shit, out of lids, just a second’ when he goes to cap Eddie’s order—when Steve specifically moved them an hour ago—so that the drink is left open-topped while he grabs the strategically-displaced stack of lids and when he returns he’s not sure Eddie will even have thought about looking at the—

‘Is this a bat?’

Eddie’s bent down level to the counter, head tipped and breath held, studying the…shit, probably a total mess of an attempt at a shape that was maybe a bat, probably more like a vaguely grinning fanged blob, definitely wanted to be a bat though, and Steve can feel his cheeks heating up before Eddie’s eyes flick away from the coffee cup for first time—

To lock onto Steve’s.

‘It tried to be,’ Steve sighs, accepting failure at both the art—which is neither all that important or at all surprising, he’s shit at art; it’s the failure at trying to, who knows, maybe woo, the pretty nerdy boy who makes his pulse tick up just walking through the door? That part’s the failure he’s gonna mourn.

‘But y’know. Like your,’ and Steve gestures at Eddie’s ink peeking from his shirt sleeves, because that was what initially sparked the idea, then he clocks his betrayer-mouth and tries to save the confession, knowing it’s useless: ‘and then it’s October so—‘ he starts to shrug, to hide his hands in his apron pocket and stare meaningfully at the tile floor, probably needs mopping, but then—

‘It’s amazing,’ Eddie says, a little breathless, and Steve looks up immediately to catch the awe in his tiny grin, the kind Steve’s never seen on him before, so soft it makes Steve’s pulse jump a little into the hug of his collar

‘I didn’t know you could do that. Have you been putting them under,’ Eddie’s face turns mildly horrified as he gestures to the cup, and the lid in Steve’s hand—which is honestly kinda adorable; ‘all this time and I missed it?’

‘God no,’ Steve snorts, reassures; ‘I actually almost lost my job because I thought it was dumb to put all the work in just to cover it up.’

And Eddie’s grin comes back, with an added bite of his top teeth against his bottom lip, and a length of his curls dragged to try—and fail—to hide it.

‘I’m really glad you didn’t lose your job,’ he says quietly, and Steve’s chest feels warmer than a fresh fucking shot of espresso.

Which reminds him:

‘It’s gonna get cold,’ Steve holds out the lid and nods at the slowly-melting bat-blob, and Eddie takes it but doesn’t put it on, still chewing at his bottom lip before he raises those big dark eyes Steve’s way again and confesses, sounding a little lost, maybe just shy of heartbroken:

‘I don’t wanna ruin it.’

And Steve’s heart doesn’t break for any of it; fucking swells and soars and hopes because this man is…he’s…

Steve grabs the lid back, lets his fingers brush with intent against Eddie’s and tells himself he knows he reads the almost inaudible—but only almost—gasp from Eddie at the contact right before he gets to work on the same drink with a normal, boring non-flourish on the top, though he does add the caramel sprinkles he knows Eddie likes even if they don’t match the standard recipe, before popping the lid on this cup and sliding it next to the now-unrecognizable bat.

‘On the house,’ Steve says softly, and he thinks it might be too much to wink but Eddie lights up like a Christmas tree and so he gives it a shot, and then Eddie’s just looks giddy as he tries to balance the two cups on his way to his normal seat.

Steve’s gonna fucking write his number on the cup tomorrow.

(In the end, though: he doesn’t get a chance.

He walks in, second shift, and he’s barely apron’d up before Robin, who opened hours ago, slides him a large to-go cup with a pointed ‘Might want to open the lid, it got too hot’ before slipping away.

And Steve’s not a moron, so he opens the lid.

It’s a pile of foam and maybe whipped cream with a cocoa-and-possibly-chocolate-sprinkle heart drawn on top, and Steve’s almost too charmed by it to notice what else is waiting under the lid.

But like, under the lid, in the tiniest possible letters:

‘I had to make a stencil out of a postcard to try and do this at home so I’m sorry if this is the actual worst. But I’d really like to take you out for something you don’t make for yourself all day. I have some ideas, but I’d meet you wherever. Text me, or even call—I swear I’d make a point to answer if it’s you.’

And the biggest thing written, and traced over to be BOLD, is a phone number.

But then, more teeny tiny words:

‘Also: please DO NOT drink this—I just wanted it to look decent, not taste good. Plus the main flavor profile might be sharpie by now, anyway.’

And Steve snorts to himself, sniffs the drink and oh, yeah. Yeah, that’s an aroma of permanent-marker, for sure.

‘Though the lid is clean, I didn’t reuse an old one,’ the note goes on: ‘though maybe, if you text (or call!), we’ll end the evening where swapping spit’s kind of the point ~’

There’s a little heart that barely fits but is as recognizable as the one on the undrinkable-drink and Steve barely feel Robin’s hand push his shoulder toward the back corner by the window where a certain curly-haired composer’s leg is bouncing fast enough to hear against the floor on approach, Reeboks squeaking against the tile; where a man’s sitting who Steve would really like to close the week out—or even the day, if he’s real lucky—as being able to just call ‘boyfriend’, instead of anything else.

✨🦇✨☕️✨

Originally from Twitter, where you can totally ask for a fic-me-up when you’re having A DAY, too;

Also on Ao3.

[duckiemimi]

ever since the whole exhibition thingy idk what the hell it is I’m new to jjk (caught up though!!) i have no hope gojo is coming back. im kinda sad we’re still fighting sukuna :( i wanted to see gojo help save megumi but i also wanted to see everyone save gojo like i fucking love everyone jumping sukuna but I wish they did it before gojo died BUT IM SELFISH 😭😭😭

i also think shinjuku showdown dragged! i wanted to give the pacing the benefit of the doubt because weekly publications can affect how an arc is read, but i reread it again a couple days ago, back to back without pause, and well...it still dragged. i hope this is something the anime can improve on, and judging by how well season 2 was animated, i'm sure it'll come out better on screen!

OH, what i would've GIVEN to see an alternative version of their plan. there were so many things i disliked in this arc. i thought the way everyone stood idly—casually, even—while gojo fought sukuna was frustrating, considering the dire situation. i understand that jumping in would hinder gojo practicality-wise, and it would be disrespectful because it's also a fight to determine who's the strongest (blah blah), but couldn't they have looked for kenjaku while it happened—kenjaku who was their main concern before? why did they mobilize only after gojo died? if i recall correctly, kusakabe's reasoning behind this as one of the more prominent planners was that they needed to conserve energy and numbers to fight sukuna if gojo loses. but they quickly split up once he did anyway, so the plan just came off as inefficient.

the rest of the cast watching through mei mei's crows and every single person giving unified commentary in different fonts seemed so unnatural, too. i understand readers might need some technical background for the power system, but we established a narrator for a reason! done like this, gojo vs. sukuna seemed like a way to buy time to figure out what happens next in the story, what to write towards the next major plot point gege had in mind.

then there was also the issue of pov switching. i understand what gege was going for here and i'm sure it's the shibuya formula, but because of the lack of detailed planning on his part, it just came off as inconsistent and disjointed. hakari vs. uraume seemed more like an exposition dump if anything. speaking of exposition, instead of clarifying revelation, the constant flashbacks seemed more like retroactive justifications towards under-planned plot points. gege was struggling to put one foot forward every chapter, like he was being chased while running on sticky tar. any way to get to the finish line.

anyway, how this became a rant on shinjuku showdown, i'm not sure HAHA, but i hope that's okay with you. i don't think you're selfish! i think you have a point!

[paranormeow7]

Was just having some thoughts abt a decently recent oc world I adapted from a dream and realized that I only talked about this specific world in dms w a pal n not publicly ???? and that is a crime so . have fun with another horribly long beetle paranormeow7 worldbuilding post™️

this is gonna be long. beware

Basically, this world began with a very vivid and detailed dream I had where I lived in a surreal version of the afterlife, specifically hell. Most of the main details of the world are actually straight out of the dream, most of the changes were just adding more little details and exposition. Since my initial dream mostly showed hell, I’ll be talking about it the most here, and I might make a separate post on heaven later.

The way it works is that heaven and hell are both colossal cities floating in a white void, and once you die a ferryman will take you on a boat to your appropriate afterlife. The system was pretty fucked though, so it wasn’t a guarantee you’d get the right one, but more on that later. Heaven is basically this shiny, futuristic city in the sky full of round edges and soft colors, built on the shattered remains of a marble statue of an angel (in the original dream it was just a floating island), and hell is a grody, crowded and lawless city literally situated inside the skinned corpse of the devil himself (In the dream, it was just his head).

As I mentioned before, the system that gets you into the afterlife in this ocverse is SUPER fucked. Some higher up angel or demon could fuck up your paperwork and you could end up in the wrong afterlife. This has been happening to more and more people lately. The good news is, you can apply for a transfer!! The bad news is, it’s a very cumbersome and inefficient system that can take years on end to get results from, if your requests even go through. Sadly though, it’s the only way to do this.

The way the process goes is that first you fill out a request card and mail it to your afterlife’s central office to have it processed through a complicated courier system. Once it is, it reaches the higher ups, who will look over your files to see if you’re fit for a transfer, send you a travel card, and alert the ferryman to come and pick you up.

However, this isn’t accounting for any of the complications that may, and probably will, arise during your transfer process. Your card might not reach the offices, it could get lost in the courier system, and if it reaches the higher ups they could absolutely just reject you. And if they don’t, you might not even get your travel card, or no one could alert the ferryman. If any of these errors occur, you simply have to start the process over again. Some people have been doing this for years.

However, if you are a strange or special enough case, you may be summoned to see the higher ups themselves, which in Hell are a hivemind like cabinet of demons led by the most powerful in the office. once this powerful demon dies, the next most powerful ascends to their position. Their office is located inside the brain, with an elevator up on the spinal column. For both afterlives, your invitation will come to you on an engraved black piece of metal. This detail may or may not be an urban legend, because there hasn’t been many cases of this happening, and no one has come back to tell the tale.

Every part of the city runs through different parts of Lucifers body, your stay in hell beginning with the ferryman dropping you into the mouth, where you will be verified, and kicking you down the throat to fend for yourself once it’s over. While there are others, mostly for staff demons, the most accessible method of transport for the average denizen is through the blood vessels. Claustrophobic, overcrowded and winding, you’ll have to step over fellow lost souls and sticky blood clots as you travel and no matter where the signs point you, you’re never really sure of where they’ll spit you out.

The lungs and ribcage are where the living quarters are, using the heart as a power source. The bronchial forest, near the lung tenement, is a good place to pick up supplies, but you may also run into danger in the form of bloodthirsty creatures, staff demons or fellow denizens. Each tenant gets the exact same tiny, barren apartment, with two small rooms and a dingy balcony to look out at the debauchery below. Some tenants may choose to customise their apartment with trinkets and decorations acquired throughout the city, though. Just because your place is nothing special doesn’t mean you can’t make it your own.

Peppered throughout the limbs and resting on the bones are various shady, washed out clubs, shops, restaurants, and an all manner of less than trustworthy businesses and attractions waiting to swindle you out of something. In this city, it’s every man for himself, and the only way to get ahead and benefit from these places is to cheat, lie, steal, etc. Out-con everyone. Although it is possible to have friends or a group of people to travel with, preparing for betrayal may prevent heartbreak in the future. No one cares who you were, who you want to be, or what you’ve done. The only thing that matters is the here and now.

The digestive system is infamous. Some would never want to get caught there, some go seeking fame and glory. Above the acid pits of the stomach sits a gladiator arena, where hells citizens can brutally fight their way to the top of the leaderboard on live TV and gain notoriety and respect throughout the city. If you get bumped to the very bottom of the leaderboard, you get thrown into the acid pits for all of hell to see, and for you to stay for the rest of your afterlife.

Since you cannot die in hell, no matter how bad you get injured, it can’t really do anything to you. However, injuries and conditions will not heal up or go away in hell, and with how dangerous the place is, it’s common to see horribly mutilated people walking around and going about their day to day life. You are able to do things such as get stitches, splints, bandages etc, but they’re pretty coveted and not too easy to get, so you’ll usually see people who are unable to wandering around with their intestines hanging out or their skin missing or bones sticking out or something. In the original dream, I met a woman covered in bandages simply walking half of a dog. This dog was alive and vibing, just sliced in half.

There were two other people with me in my dream, next door neighbors in my tenement. They didn’t have names originally, but now their names are Crimson and Pitch, obviously nicknames, because who needs real names in hell. I might talk more about them in a separate post because this post is going on too long already, but I promise I WILL talk about them and answer asks about them.

I drew some rudimentary sketches of them. they’re shit but uh. dude with the black curly hair, leather jacket and fucked up eyes is pitch and the girl with no skin and no face is crimson. anyways idk what else to put on this post. I think this is it uh thanks for reading here’s my cat

[askthefivefallen]

Lute uses a sword, Vaggie uses a spear, what weapons do you all use?

R: "Well, Lefty and I use halberds. Nothing fancy."

L: "We've fought side-by-side since the beginning, so we're used to how long they are and we can even use them in tight spaces. Not to brag but we're probably the best polearms duo ever."

R: "Still wouldn't challenge Vaggie to a fight, though."

A: "I've got a huge, heavy fuckin' battle axe. I can technically get both hands on the handle but I usually use it one handed. Everyone else goes for stabbing but I'm more of a decapitation gal."

T: "I used to use a glaive but I switched to a warhammer a few decades ago. Um, don't- don't go around telling anyone, but, uh, I kinda got... bored? Using the glaive? I mean, the Righteous Fury of the Exterminations had died out long before then and it was just a slog so I tried switching it up. Warhammer s require a lot more effort to... kill a Sinner with so... yeah. Not exactly something I'm proud of, all things considered."

L: "You do look good using it, though."

T: "Aw, thanks! Chief always thought I was wasting my time with such an inefficient weapon."

J: "... I used to use an ax but uh... I have something different now."

A: "Different- you came down here with an ax, dude, how do you have something different now?"

J: "Charlie pays us a salary so... I figured I could order a custom weapon." *pause* "Um, I asked Miss Carmine for an angelic kusarigama."

A: "What the fuck is a kusarigama?"

J: *pulls out his weapon*

A: "... alright, disdain retracted, that looks sick as fuck."

J: "It makes me feel really cool using it. I haven't had to kill anyone with it yet, though."

R: "I wonder if we should all order custom weapons. Kinda symbolically reclaiming ourselves in a way?"

A: "Hell yeah, I'm getting a chainsaw."

T: "What?"

A: "A motherfucking chainsaw!"

L: "Absolutely not."

J: "I also got a sniper rifle-"

R: "Junior, buddy, you are not helping."

[thebunniesgrim]

It's almost embarrassing how much I like the episode lol

So, the new ep dropped yay! 

Over all I personally liked

it a few extremely minor nitpicks

but overall, I loved it  

If you wanna know my nitpicks, go ahead a read them but otherwise I'm gonna go on a tangent about fire in hell because I wanna :) 

does this count as criticism?

Fizzes new song wasn’t as good as thought would be, but I understand it’s improve but I think the joke would have landed better if it was actually extremely catchy like total ear worm of a song 

I don’t like that fizz and Bliztos relationship kinda resolved so fast (but I'm a hateful bitch who can't let go of things so hey maybe that’s just something wrong with me :/) 

Stolas was in the episode homeboy was hospitalized how are you just up and ready to function. Couldn’t be me honestly after that ruffing up, I would have needed 10 to 12 business years to recover lol  

I really don’t understand why Asmodeus was seen as the weakest sin especially since we haven’t seen the other yet. If it's because he canoodling with an imp, ok? But he’s still a sin also if I wanted to pick on any of the sins, we’ve seen so far it would be Bee just saying she’s dating a dog! Someone less than imps just saying!  

Crimson is fucking stupid threating a deadly sin (first Loona now him why are people just so causally threating or trying to fight the deadly sins? Are they the big bads or not? We have imps and hellhounds trying to fight them like that doesn’t matter)  

We didn’t see Asmodeus go crazy and like fully murder someone see a hint of his powers and frankly I'm a little upset about it lol like don’t tell me was worried about Fizz and didn’t want him hurt. homeboy you are a deadly sin you could turn Crimson and his Goons into paste in like 5 milliseconds like?  Like and you expect me to believe Ozzie is the top in this relationship? Please other than the size difference bottom Ozzie is definitely believable if he let Crim bitchify him like that just saying.

This is how I looked when Ozzie didn’t just murder them:

“Ozzie how can you be so stupid Ozzie?” (go watch Rigamarole)

Lol

Don’t get me wrong, I find Crimson and Striker very entertaining but like really? come on...

Anyhow fire! 

This episode very much answers my questions on fire in hell  

I didn’t want to vocalize this because I was worried it was an extremely dumb question  

I totally missed in Murder Family that blitzo says to Martha (#bring back Martha)  

“Yeah, your fire doesn't really work on us” yeah, your fire  

I always assumed the termed ‘hell fire’ was just a dramatic saying I didn’t think it was literal  

But even if it was literal, I didn’t think Hell Fire would work on Hell Borns, I thought it would be a sinners only things like if sinners are supposed to be in hell to be like confronted with sin and tortured why would the imps and such be affected by the fire you know? How are imps and such supposed to help torture the sinners if they are also affected by hell fire? And with now much stuff is on fire in the background in the show I always assumed it was for show when the backgrounds got too earthy like hey don’t worry, we’re still in hell  

So, I assumed that each ring has different fire (even though earth as also has colored fire but that’s not important) and if you were born from a certain ring that fire wouldn’t hurt you so if you were from the lust ring then lust fire wouldn’t hurt you. Still seems very inefficient if you move rings to go work in another but hey not my show.  

So, from what we can see lust has blue

greed has green

wrath has... orange?

And sloth as purple or light blue I think from the little sloth people’s candles I'm assuming.  

gluttony has... yellow? pink? i dont know i think this is the few eps without fire in it tbh i think...

So that being said blizto, frizz, and barbie are form greed because the fire in the flash back was green good to know  

It makes since in hindsight tbh with they’re entertainment background and bltzo working in LooLoo land I guess idk why you’d work somewhere with the robot version of the guy you thought you hated but hey whatever a gig is a gig I suppose. Also, that means LooLoo World is in the pride ring since Charlie took Vaggie to the LooLoo World unless Charlie can move Vaggie through the rings as like a princess of hell perk thing idk. Also dick move Stolas to take your kid to the discount amusement park (if I was Octavia, I'd be so petty about this just saying. I can't believe Stella let this happen) 

Idk why Blitzo didn’t mention that he was also from greed when IMP went to go see Moxxies dad but not important I guess  

(also, it was nice seeing Striker and Crimson in the new ep tbh) 

Also, in the roller-coaster in LooLoo land that Millie said she liked had fire on it and how come that didn’t hurt anyone? Also, the explosion at the end of LooLoo land the Blzito and the M&Ms were messed up but not really like you know Fizz levels of messed up granted we didn’t see how close Blitzo and M&Ms were to the explosion  

Side note 

Why were there explosives under the table to begin with at Fizz’s party? No wonder it looked like Blitzo tried to set him up like? That was planned idk someone had it out for him  

I understand the explosion is what messed up Fizz but like I feel like the extra damage from the fire shouldn't have caused that much damage also Fizz was facing the explosives he should have died just saying face and head blow off completely  

Also, how can the horses have fire mains if fire hurts them?

still cute tho :) 

[fuck-your-proana-blog]

Hello, same anon here as the previous anon, god, thank you so much, I am so screenshotting your reply. I already try my best not to end up on ana tags, it's a last resort, but every other day my mental health gets so bad I just need something, anything to distract myself and I don't have close friends I could vent to, and that's the only other thing I can think of. Plus at least sweetspos are nice and understanding, and I don't usually,,,get that from anyone, so yeah. I am already supposed to get some sort of social anxiety treatment, but they're extremely inefficient and slow with it. And they just shrugged when I told them I wanna kms. I thought I'll just throw whatever destructive coping mechanism at that, and when I no longer wanna die, I'll fix them, but now my hair is starting to fall out (I think. Unsure though.) and I am not better at all. And two people I used to be close friends with had restrictive EDs, and I guess this is my way of feeling close to them. And I'm turning 18 later this year, and that feels scary as fuck, and I thought if I lose stupid amounts of weight I can at least look childish. Okay, sorry, at this point I am just rambling, but I've been keeping this to myself for what feels like ages. Anyways. Thank you again for your reply so sosososo so much. It helped a lot.

I'm glad my response helped and I'm proud of you for working towards health. I distracted myself from my abusive childhood experiences (C-PTSD stuff) with weight loss too, and it quickly spiraled into anorexia- and it did the absolute opposite of making me not want to die, so don't convince yourself and ED will improve your life, it never will. I felt like I "deserved" to suffer, that somehow if I suffered enough it would make right what was broken in me. If I could just be "thin enough" it would fix all my problems, so I used behaviors and buried myself in my ED to avoid dealing with the real problems in my life. From what you've said it seems like you're doing the same, so please get help. I don't have any friends either so I come onto Tumblr to vent and find support as well. I know weaning yourself off of harmful tags is difficult, that it feels like a proper distraction from your other suffering, but it will not help. Please believe me, I've been battling these demons for almost 14 years- almost as long as you've been alive- and all it did was waste my life and make me mentally disabled and even more withdrawn from the world- as well as give me countless health problems I will never recover from. I may be in recovery, but my body will never fully recover from the hell anorexia put it through. I lost hair, have multiple damaged organs that require meds and outpatient care frequently, severe GI issues, I almost lost my teeth, needed multiple surgeries, developed osteopenia and had to do PT over and over as I continuously damaged my body with over exercising and starvation. It may feel like a "good" distraction now, but it's not. It will ruin your life more than it already has if you don't get help. I know growing up is hard, but it will only be harder with an ED. Sweeatspos are NOT "nice and understanding," they are another trap for you to fall into created by disgusting pro ana blogs to convince you your life will somehow get better if you get sicker. It won't. Anorexia ruined my life, my body, everything I had. I am just starting to get my life back in my late 30s. You're young; your mind and body can still fully recover if you make the necessary changes now- don't end up like me. Please, get help. I know what it's like to feel like no one cares, especially when you're suicidal, because I've been there. I just got out of the hospital after an attempt in November actually, and as soon as I attempted I got help and went to the hospital because I realized I didn't want to die- I just wanted the pain to stop, and I get the feeling that you're in the same boat. So really harp on your healthcare team about medication, therapy, anything you need to get better. If you feel you'd be safer in a hospital, GO. I've been hospitalized over and over throughout my life when I was most in danger from myself and even if it doesn't "fix" you it will get you more urgent physical and psychiatric attention by a medical team that will take you seriously and keep you safe. Don't wait until you can't fully recover like I did. Get help now, let them all know you're in real danger- it can bring discomfort to truly let people know how badly you're suffering, but you won't regret it. After all my time suffering I finally "came out" about my ED when I was hospitalized the last time to my close family and have only received support and love from doing so. I don't know if that will be your experience as I don't know any about your family, but I know having people irl who know my story has helped me cope, and if you can share your story with those who love you they could help you and support you in regaining your mental and physical health as well.

Your future doesn't have to be full of starving and pain- but you do have to choose, every day, to get better so it won't be!

[coffee-in-veins]

As someone who (very casually) enjoys Eldin Ring, I am very curious what you think

thank you for the ask! ^^ that was quick xD

well, then, i hope you won't be upset about what i have to say about it. i genuinely love it from worldbuilding perspective and it looks cool and thrilling more often than not. other things, though...

for the context, i did my best to like it for like casual 80 hours or so, playing very slowly, very cautiously, and probably very inefficiently, because i would often just chill at the location, so those hours mean almost nothing. i managed to kill the grafted guy, the moon lady, got to meet Ranni (god i remember at least one name from it all without cheating!) and got to the point where i was supposed to get into the autumn plateau which name i won't remember even if you torture me.

and this is my first gripe with the game. this one is more of a personal struggle, so take it with a grain of salt. i struggle quite a lot with remembering names, both irl and in media. i remember visuals, i remember voices, i remember plots. but names? beats me. hell, i only remembered Dis and Rey after like half a year of a deep dive into DD, if it gives you any perspective.

with that explanation out of the way, comes the gripe itself: most of the time, i was completely, utterly and hopelessly lost who were those people, whom they wanted killed and where they wanted me to go. my quests would go something like this:

"Go fight General Radahn!" someone said. I think I saw their helmet, twice, and I remember they are a blacksmith. probably. i remember the voice tho. they are genuinely nice to me, so i'd probably do it.

however, not a single braincell rumbled in that head of Tarnished of mine as i sat in front the screen and looked at them blankly: "Who?"

but the NPC already continued: "They are in Caelid!"

not a drop of recognition. "Where?" okay, i sit and think frantically, i have a map, maybe it has parts named, maybe i won't have to wander for half an hour before giving up and going to the wiki again...? no? well, fuck, maybe some locations are named? right! locations. jackpot, some have 'caelid' in them. ah, the red poison swamp! dude, why didn't you say so? on my way!

me, meeting Radahn: aaahhh, that big dude on a tiny horse! sure! from the promo! wait, who asked to kill him again? and why?

and that was every time. there are dozens of names and places and they all are deeply connected and you somehow are expected to keep it all in your head or make notes on a piece of paper, idk. call me whiny, or call it an aesthetic (put a pin into that, we will return to it later), but wouldn't it be convenient to have something like bestiary that Witcher 3 had, with a tab for people you met or heard about? nothing too concrete, hell, this series is know for being frugal with explanations but... like, something, so i don't have to keep wiki constantly open and ready to alt tab to understand who am i talking to and who are they talking about.

and while we're talking about dialogues, BG3 made me understand how much i need a tab where i can re-read recent dialogues. if not to understand things better with all the ye old-english-y words some of us filthy non-eng speakers have no idea even exist, then to see how those names are spelled so we can search them in wikis later.

and have you noticed a thing which is going like a red string through all of my writing? wiki. hell, i'm writing all of the above using wiki because i still don't remember how those people are called. you get used to it just to know who's who. wanna laugh at me? because i was so stressed out by the first bosses, i completely blacked out at the first boss, only seeing vague shapes, and i genuinely thought that Godrick and Morgott were the same guy for the longest time because i was stressed out, didn't have enough time to look at them and was frantically thinking of moves and skills instead of actually watching the cutscene with proper attention. it didn't help that they both spoke with similar tones and in a ye old-english-y way, and were in the same location. so yeah, you can imagine my confusion during the game later on...

there's one thing, though. constantly checking names in wiki makes you feel like it's fine to check other things too. and, Io and behold, before you know it, you're just tired and grumpy and look up where the hell are things you need, quests you missed, resource nodes... and suddenly, the best part of the game (exploration) is gradually chipped away, without you even noticing.

i mean, i had to look up how the horse is called and I love Torrent to bits, even if he is as responsive to controls as a DD2 bangwagon that was put on two very greasy, very non-cooperative pigs on skis. which is another gripe of mine, but the poor guy is so abandoned in the second half of the game, that it's genuinely depressing.

which brings us to my second most gripe in the game: menus. remember that aesthetic pin? let's get it out. menus are a genuine pain in the ass to navigate, they don't respond to mouse (oh, we're gonna return to that. oh, we're gonna...), and for the first thirty or so HOURS i wasn't aware there were other tabs in the inventory. genuinely. i simply wasn't aware. i hovered the mouse on tabs, they weren't scrolling, and knowing that this is primary console game, i didn't pay much attention to the keys besides those, assuming (rightfully, as i thought) that those were for consoles to switch tabs. forgive me for my 'pc master race' mentality, but i'm not used to things in the menu not being responsive to the mouse. so some of the quest items you see in there somewhere? any tab after keys? nope, i didn't know they existed.

remember painting quests? i loved those. but also i had no fucking idea you carried a copy somewhere in the bowels of the inventory tab. thus, like the moron i was, i would come to them, make a photo of my screen on my phone, and try to go around, keeping the photo up on my phone as a reference. or go back to the actual in world painting to check. my frustration was immeasurable and my pain was immense. or maybe you wanna find the weapon you just looted and see if it is of any use? pff, good luck, hope you remembered its name or how it looked, or didn't have anything in your inventory, else get ready to go through a warehouse of other gear you carry. not to mention that sorting on those is extremely non-intuitive. why are lantern and looking glass and prattling pates in one section but wraith calling bell and mimic veil have separate ones? why is horse whistle with flasks and flasks 2.0? why are memory of grace with the flasks and horse whistle? am i missing something?? genuine question.

quick side note while we’re at the topic of prattling pates, should i even mention how notoriously convoluted the better ending for my sweet boy Boc is…?

not to mention that 'Switch display' option is very... unexplained, to say politely. it turns out you can see how many runes exactly is Golden Rune [7] - if you switch the view. because having explanation of 'use to gain many runes' on one screen totally gives you a hint that it would say 'use to gain 2500 runes' in another.

i mean i get it. the series has a reputation. it is dark souls 4, 5 and 6 with a new coat of pain (or maybe paint), it has to be hard, you gotta 'git good', you have to fight for every sliver of lore and then listen to 12 hours of youtube explanations anyway just to have a semblance of understanding what's going on. but - and this is an important but - there's a difference between working for the lore and being unable to understand what the hell you looted and not being aware you can actually know how rune [6] 'many' differs from rune [9] 'many' without trying to go and use it and make a table with those orrrr - say it with me! have the wiki opened.

also the fact that nowhere does it say that spirit ashes can be summoned only in specific areas AND you need a bell you need to get later on somehow bumbling into Ranni is simply false marketing. i took twin imps as my trinket and boy ho boy, lemme tell you someone was pissed for the first hour of the game...

which brings me to creme de la creme of my gripes. the controls. pc port is... well it exists, and i still haven't recovered from that. it makes you extremely aware from the word go that you're not the target demographic. that you're unwelcome here. that no one looked at it and thought: huh, we have battles where we expect Tarnished to get on and off Torrent mid-fight, so how shitty of us would it be if we make Torrent summon be "F + [arrow up]" for keyboards? you know, so the player would have to get their hand off the mouse. mid-battle. naaah, that would work just fine, ship that bad boi as is! oh, and make it non-mappable too. they have keyboard with 75% keys being unused? who cares! it mirrors gamepad, and that is what truly matters.

i said it once when a pal of mine let me use his acc and try Dark Souls. i think it was the third one...? well, my experience was - 'i'm not fighting the monsters, i'm fighting the game'. and it's pretty much the same for Elden Ring. did you know there's a power off hand attack? i didn't. did you know there's a way of switching your weapon to hold it in two hands? i didn't did you know you can make it on the fly? i sure as hell didn't. did you know your RH attack is bound to your LMC and it fucks your brain when you play because here it plays role and you can fuckup by using weapons in 'wrong' hands? yeah, that i experienced a plenty.

do you know how i know all those? i plugged in a gamepad and oh god all of the mapping makes so much goddamn sense! i had to reverse-map things because i only played FF9 with a controller, and was extremely uncomfortable with it in a non-turn-based game. which left a taste of bile in my mouth.

loading times are awesome thought. i dunno how they achieved that, but that's hella impressive for a game this big.

i ended up liking the world. vistas. lore that people dig into. but this game isn't for me. not because i'm not interested but because i have a setup they clearly don't care about. and it's okay, i guess. but i have too little free time to spend it fighting not the monsters the game sets in front of me as a challenge but the game itself

hope it wasn't too convoluted ^^'

and thanks again for the ask! :}

[hoxooster]

THANK YOU SO MUCH for the very great answer i will cherish it forever (and probably be back next week with another idea/question/whatever that has basically nothing to do with this one)

Now this probably doesn't have much to do with wolfie but more with me trying to approach plot holes

Because I've been, let's say, mentally sketching, on what could be wolf's daughter. What I can't really wrap my head around, though, is how she would be able to actually find him. Yeah, the payday gang is basically known all over the world and all that, but how would she _find_ him??? Find as in able to actually confront the guy? i will basically throw all the ideas i currently have at you, please wear your seatbelt

Seriously help me because I honestly don't know how she would find him, let alone meet him, which literally is the main fucking plot point :(

Worlds biggest sidenote and one of my main concerns: Did wolf commit crimes and shit in sweden too? What did he do? (No, illegal parking doesn't count because it is fucking impossible to park correctly in stockholm)

OOOOOOOORRRRR this stuff i'm writing could take place in pd3??? Or like what the game currently is in? (Downtime between the games) So the gang is back together in new york and all that but not yet heisting? Ok i just realized how heavily dependent my idea is on Bain so that went down the drain. (nice rhyme) (how would she even know they are in new york) (this idea is swiss cheese due to plot holes)

Maybe he goes to Kiruna after the secret ending? To the cabin. It's far from Stockholm, so accidentally running into his family at the grocery store wouldn't happen. UNLESS his wife went to court after he left the country, got protected identity, and now lives untraceable somewhere in sweden with the kids? And some shit like this goes down with wolfie?? Okay at this point i feel kinda bad for you for having to try and keep up with my train of thought.

tl;dr - i have questions for you.

How could wolf's daughter possibly find him so she could confront him? Going to random banks and hope the payday gang decides to rob them while she's there seems a bit.. inefficient.

Did Wolf commit crimes in Sweden as well? If so, what do you think?

Do you think he would go back to Kiruna after the secret ending?

Bonus: do you think his wife ever gets courage to find someone new after the shitshow with wolf?

Don't feel pressured to answer it all if you don't feel like it. Take care, I appreciate you a lot <3

Alrighty then, let's get into it.

Like I said before, it depends on what set up you have for their past.

If she doesn't know, then why would she know about him heisting now? Even if they saw reports on the TV that showed his picture--which I doubt, because the only heisters that get talked about on the news in other countries are ones who also commit crimes in their countries, as far as I am aware--it's been years since they've seen him. We don't know what Wolf looked like before he started heisting. I mean, we can just use older pictures of Ulf as a base if we really want to, and it's probably the best and only option that we've really got, when you think about it. This was Ulf when he was 21ish:

Baby-man. Anyway, if he looked like this before he left them, then why would they recognize him from his police sketches now?

If she does know, then why in the hell would she even want to confront him? Say that she knows about what he did before he left and has heard about him on the news. Why in the ever-living FUCK would she want to confront a known cop and hostage-killer?

Here, as an example, I'll give you a lil' backstory on my parents. My father is a narcissist and a psychopath--I've mentioned this on here a few times--and he gets violent and abusive VERY QUICKLY when he has to deal with anything he 'doesn't like'. When my mom told him that she wanted a divorce, he got a hammer, went into the backyard, and brutally murdered one of their dogs so they 'wouldn't have something else to fight over in court.' My mom still remembers the groans that dog made as she tried to quickly get me and book it out of there before he could hurt us too.

Now, like I said in my previous answer:

So, after seeing him lose his shit more than a few times when she was a kid, having him disappear from her life, then show up in police sketches on the news where he's referred to as a robber and murderer... Yeah, I don't think that she'd want to be around him. She'd probably start running as soon as she saw his face, to be honest.

So, in my opinion for your story, you should go with that she doesn't know about his old and new heisting life. It just makes it so much more believable that she would actually want to meet up with him and ask "What gives? Why did you leave?"

As for how they would meet, you have a bunch of options. Wolf used to be a programmer as his day-job in his old life and he's very intelligent. Sometimes, kids will follow in their parents' footsteps for careers they want to go into. Failing that, Wolf's kids're most likely wicked smart too. So, you can always go for an exchange student or 'goes to college in America' type of deal, if you want them to meet up accidentally. It can even be during a heist, if you want extra ✨drama✨ for the whole thing. Or, like you said, they can meet-up accidentally (or maybe even intentionally) in Sweden during one of his visits.

If you want them to meet intentionally, then I would recommend that you look up videos and articles and whatnot people have posted about their own experiences with tracking down a family member. Use those to get your inspiration for what you want to do with them, 'cause I'm not a good source for this. The only reason why I met up with my father again while I was in my early teens was due to a lie his then-wife sent my ma in an email. She said that 'he wanted to reconnect with me', when it turned out that she was forcing the meet-up to try and drag me to a wedding for a step-brother that I hate and am afraid of for some reason. So...

As for committing crimes in Sweden, I already half-answered that question last time.

Considering how he was alone at the time, he probably started out by robbing small stores and businesses. Maybe even smaller banks. You can actually find videos of former bank robbers who worked alone and hear about the methods they used. I personally like this video the most, as he looks at and breaks down film-based robberies from his own perspective. After that, since his company went under due to another company, he might have tried robbing them. Maybe this score was even what put Wolf on Bain's radar. Who knows?

Wolf visits his cabin in Kiruna at least once a year.

This is mostly in reference to the fact that the real-life Ulf Andersson left OVERKILL and made his own studio and game, but the first sentence is still relevant. So, he probably went there and set up shop, yeah.

Bonus round for the ex-wife: It's possible. I don't see why she would avoid relationships, unless she personally wanted to. 'Cause their divorce wasn't based on a 'he's a man and I believe that all men are pigs now because of what happened' issue, it happened due to a 'he had a mental breakdown and he isn't safe anymore' issue. My ma had plenty of boyfriends when I was growing up--not that I met many of them, because my ma wanted to keep me and our homes/apartments safe. She also remarried in 2009 to my step-dad, so Wolf's ex-wife could either be alone, in a relationship, or married to someone else. It has been ~7-8 years, after all. Shit happens.

[celestial-sapphicss]

hi friends, i am back just to long work rant :(((((

this deal/project ive been working on for the past month has been extremely challenging and annoying, so much so that I'm working almost 16 hours a day, AND weekends. TODAY i sort of broke because this other team that I have to work with was being difficult for NO REASON.

as a part of the process, there's this commercial aspect that i have to "collaborate" on with this team and get on a common ground, right.

for some reason the SPOC for this other team has a completely different way of working than the standard and is putting ME on the spot for the confusions AGAIN & AGAIN in front of everyone, lying through her teeth, while I'm trying to be nice and all

then today, in one of our one-on-one calls, we were in disagreement about something as we both had a different set of guidelines to follow, so I suggested to take it on mail and made a comment chuckling about how inefficient our orgs communication is that has led to this.

IDK how and why she comes to the conclusion that i am laughing AT her and then goes off on me about how it's inappropriate and that i wouldn't laugh at her (male) counterpart (from other Geo), and I'm just like, what even??????

and then i sort of panic and fumble because she is in a higher position than i am, and i say in panic 'oh it might be a culture difference' AND THEN AGAIN THIS WHITE WOMAN IS LIKE 'OH JUST BECAUSE IM NOT INDIAN' LIKE WOMAN WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU????

and even though she's wrong and way off i still apologize and make her believe that that was not the intention and i would never laugh at her because i respect her as a colleague and someone who is way more experienced than i am

because all this while i have been interacting with EVERYONE that way, making light of this fucked up project, and she has been interacting the same way with everyone (else) as well.

AND THEN her teammate sends a mail regarding needing their approval to proceed further, which is very clearly not needed, addressed to ME, so instead of calling ME up to clarify the same, she calls up the teammate I'm working with (much older, much experienced, very white, very German, very male) to apologise, just before we were going to escalate it to our boss.

and im just so fucking upset because not only are you trying to bully me simply because im "newer", but you're also accusing me of something which is FALSE, and threatening me with escalations.

i had a complete breakdown at that point and i was this close to being like fuck respect im gonna drag you up to the top but i had to let it go

CORPORATE ughhhh