#like at this point I don't see anything they can do but mitigate the damage they've done to themselves

[medicinemane]

Hadn't even considered it till I saw an article about how a russian economist is pointing this out, but the russian mobilization is just going to gut their economy even more

Cause quite separate from any sanctions, they've just done a huge drain on their workforce in two ways

First of all they obviously called people to be in the army, and so they're not working now, but also there's all the ones trying to flee the country who aren't working anymore either

Like... I hadn't even considered this till I had it pointed out, but this is just going to decimate russia's economy, isn't it?

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - A Jealous Man - Mal de Mer

Mel learns the hard way that wounded pride comes at a high price.

At least, where Silco is concerned.

tw: possessive behavior, conflict.

Mal de Mer on AO3

Snippet:

Trust me, he'd said.

I do, she'd replied.

The irony is not lost on her: her trust, like her marriage, has led her into a trap.

And, like any trapped animal, she lashes out.

"This your idea of compromise? An ambush in plain sight?" She hears her voice crack, and hates herself for it. "I would've given you anything. All you had to do was ask. But no—you'd rather skulk around in the shadows. Scheming like a—"

"You call it scheming. I call it strategy."  Silco's hands, guiding the wheel, are steady. "Or did you expect me to stay on sufferance? My city's trade—its lifeblood—tied for generations to your Hexgates. My future hinging—year after year—on accords written by your Council. Bureaucracy, backtracking, backstabbing. A charade of concessions, with Zaun's dignity as the cost?"

"Charade?" Her face goes hot, then cold. "Is that what you see this voyage as?"

"Worse. I see it as a farce." His knuckles, she notices, are whitening. "You, playing at being my wife. Putting on a show for all your guests. The men and women who've undermined my city at every turn. And what do you do? Peddle your smiles to grease their palms. Force my hand, and force yours, and force everyone else's—all to keep the peace." His laugh is pitched low. And yet it slices through the air. "Peace. If this is the price, I'd rather go to war."

The pain, like a needle, pierces Mel's skull.

She'd known, since the voyage began, that he was angry. That he was sick of the hollow platitudes and hidden barbs. But she'd thought, with her efforts this morning, that she'd successfully mitigated the damage. Diplomacy, rather than daggers—all to the goal of keeping the status quo.

A false premise, she realizes.

Zaun no longer recognizes the status quo. Not when the city has an undersea fortress, and a fleet of ships, and a web of trade routes.

"This—this is politics," she tries to reason. "You've seen me do this countless times!"

"That's precisely the point."

"What point?"

"You." It is a sibilant hiss. "Doing this. Every. Damn. Time."

"Silco—"

"You have a gift for it, Mel. I won't deny." The wheel spins beneath his fingertips.  The craft veers into a narrow canal, bordered on both sides by towering cranes. "I've always enjoyed it. How you can turn a crooked cause into a straight road. Turn a cutthroat into a charity case. But have you stopped to consider—just once—that I don't want to be your charity case? That watching you play nice with those leeches and bootlickers, day after day, makes me sick? That I'd rather toss the lot of them overboard than have you sacrifice a shred of yourself for my city's coffers."

"I am a Councilor," Mel protests. "My duty is—"

"Your duty is to be my wife!"

The whipcrack timbre cuts off the words in her throat. For a moment, Mel can do nothing but stare. His expression—the slow hardening of muscles, the creeping chill of mismatched eyes—is as remote as a dying star.

In her mind's eye, she sees their wedding night: her ruined silk underthings a breadcrumb trail between parlor and bedroom. Thinks of Silco, a phantom silhouette in the gloom: on top of her, inside her, filling her, all burning eyes and biting kisses and sweat-slick skin. Thinks of the aftermath: of him cradling her in his arms, his fingertips tracing the scratches his teeth had gouged, his whispers a cool balm to the fire his touch had lit.

"We'll get there," he'd promised her, again and again. "Just give it time."

"Time," Mel had whispered, clinging to his neck.

"All we need. All I ask."

"You could ask for more."

His chuckle had grated deliciously against her skin. "I'm greedy, my sweet wife. I take what I want."

And she'd smiled, and let him take.

Wife.

The word, entwining with sensuous tenderness, now constricts like a noose.

"My wife," Silco repeats, quieter, but with an unmerciful intensity that cuts her to the quick. "Not the prop to humanize me in front of hysterical prudes like the Dennings. Not the pincushion to hide behind when Cevila Ferros slings barbs about my bloodline. Not the bargaining chip to trot out when Hector wants to renegotiate a loan, in exchange for a few harmless gropes. Certainly not a piece of meat for Garlen and his pack of jackals to paw at in full view—all for the good of my city." A vein pulses dangerously in his forehead. "My wife, Mel. Mine."

Mine.

The word, like a key, unlocks the full dimension of his rage.

She'd known he was a jealous man. Had assumed, in her naïveté, that it was born of a bruised male ego. Because he was a powerful man, who'd risen from nothing. And, like all power-hungry men, he'd sooner hoard her attention than share it.

Now, she sees her mistake: the root cause of his jealousy was never the sharing.

It was the humiliation.

Having a shipful of strangers, in all their privilege, look down their noses at him. To treat him, publicly, with varying degrees of hostility—all because he'd been born in the wrong place, and raised by the wrong people, and bested his own fate with his bare hands. To be regarded, in turns, as a volatile threat, an exotic savage, or a useful commodity—but never as an equal.

And Mel, in the course of a single evening, had condoned the whole circus.

In her mind, she was protecting his interests. In her heart, she was trying to make amends. In her actions, she was keeping the peace.

But in Silco's eyes, she was making a mockery of her vows.

And with this voyage, selling his soul. All to keep Piltover's good standing at Zaun's expense.

Mel's throat hitches. She can feel the miserable tremors of childhood bubbling up. Her fingers clench the rail; the only thing left to cling to. For a terrifying heartbeat, she is a girl again, condemned beneath her mother's shadow.

But Silco is not Ambessa.

And she is no longer a girl.

"I did this," she grits out, "for us."

"No," Silco says, flatly. "You did this for them."

"They're our guests."

"They are the enemy."

"Silco, they—"

"My enemies," he says. "By word. By deed. The difference, Mel, is that both of mine have teeth."

The salt-spray stings Mel's eyes. Adrenaline, cold as seawater, sluices down her spine.

And it hits her:

I am in hostile territory.

"Why have you brought us here?" she says. "What are you planning?"

At the word—us—there is a change in his expression. It is subtle, but unmistakable. Suddenly,  the fluid animation that powers his every move is gone. The man left behind is—not an effigy—but a facsimile of human life. Skin and bones and blood, but nothing more.

Beneath, there is a bottomless void.

And it is very, very hungry.

"I told you," he says. "This is a treasure hunt."

"Silco—"

"I've given them the bait. Now, they're hooked. All that's left is to reel them in."

[notquiteaghost]

i have a disease where seeing fun jokey fan content abt smth canonically tragic just makes me think abt the canonical tragedy even more. this post is about post-order 66 commander cody working closely with darth vader

because, yeah, okay, lot of comedic potential inherent in that dynamic. but personally i can't think about vader for more than three seconds without starting to want to rend my clothes and wail, so, in that vein,

one of the Things about post-order 66 cody is, like. [bucky barnes voice] but i did it. as far as he knows he DID kill obi-wan! he did that! and even if he learns he didn't actually order the killing blow, he did still order the killing blow. whether or not obi-wan is still, technically, alive doesn't negate that order 66 killed him. post-rots obi-wan is a dead man walking, a ghost in the sense of that siken quote; a ghost is something dead that doesn't know it's dead.

and one of the other things is. cody, during the clone wars, is a man with absolutely no meaningful agency and no good choices trying to do the best he can. and then it turns out his best was functionally meaningless, it turns out even when he thought he was managing to defy his explicitly-given purpose he was actually playing right into the hands of it, nothing he has ever done has meant anything good. it's a very fundamental part of the story of star wars, imo, that almost no one involved in the defeat of the empire was there for the birth of it. the specific way sidious won is so insanely demoralising. you thought you were doing good! you were sure! (you told yourself you were sure!) how can you ever be sure again!

so. all my love to stories about cody defecting, but my go-to interpretation is. he stays with the empire, until it kills him too, because it is so incredibly easy to continue as you were. leaving would be a decision. leaving would mean he is capable of deciding not to follow bad orders, and then why didn't he do it sooner. there is no space left in him for agency, even if the chip does allow for some, because if he has no agency it wasn't his fault. and if it wasn't his fault he can get out of bed and try to mitigate damage where he can.

(or not even that. i do like the idea that the chips aren't straight-up overwriting personhood so much as making personhood deeply unappealing. what good has personhood ever done you. all that effort and for what? you're still here. isn't it easier just to follow orders.

like i don't think pre-tcw / pre-chips works treated the clone troopers with much respect but there is something There re: agency & following bad orders & how real non-mind-controlled people do terrible things for no good reason all the time. cartoon network show, not going to do moral complexity, anyway i'm getting off topic)

so!!! speaking of guys who fucked up and now can't acknowledge they fucked up or their whole everything will crumble out from under them like so much sand!!!!

vader is also a guy with a chronic lack of agency who was manipulated into horrible acts and has now sunk cost fallacy'd himself into continuing to do more horrible acts forever. this isn't me being an apologist (it lied), this is the point of vader's character. you CAN, at any time, choose to be better! vader didn't, though. vader didn't for twenty years, because, again, the thing about choosing to be better is it's hard. it means you weren't doing good before. it means you cannot just mindlessly follow someone else, it means you have to think and make choices and take action.

it says a lot about vader that he only turned back to the light at the end. it's a lot easier to throw the last twenty years of your life away when you've only got to reckon with having done it for, like, five minutes. vader is a cautionary tale about the slippery slope of refusing to reckon with what you've done.

so. putting vader & cody in the same room...... two guys blaming themselves for killing obi-wan kenobi (the republic) while actively working for the guy who actually killed obi-wan kenobi and also so many others (the republic). and i don't think they would ever talk about that. i don't think they'd ever talk about anything, i do not think you can lean that far into being someone else's tool and remain capable of talking about yourself. but there sure is an elephant in that room with them, huh. it sure is holding a lightsaber and wearing a robe and very, very dead.

[ask-ursa-tonypeter]

[fic: double-blind] what might it look like if Peter had taken Extremis? What sort of personality traits, morals, abilities would be respectively amplified or suppressed? What might SIM!Tony and Extremis!Peter's relationship have looked like (would there be mutual attraction or would they hate each other, or something else)? What might non-Extremis Tony (meaning, he had never taken Extremis) and Extremis!Peter's relationship have looked like? And what would the relationship between post-Extremis Tony and Extremis!Peter look like, meaning that Tony has the knowledge and memory of what he/SIM Tony is capable of but no longer the capacity?

This is such a long and complicated meta question, so thank you for your time, whenever you get the chance to answer this!

[[🐻ursa interlude🐻

Extremis!Peter: hmmm well, like Tony's megalomania still filtered itself through the self-serving excuse of an "altruistic" desire to ~take care of people~ I think Peter would still want to be Spider-man and "help" people! But his intentions would become a lot more wrathful, with more focus on hunting down and "punishing" criminals than genuinely being about preventing/mitigating harm.

Basically, if faced with the classic "nyeheheh spider-man, you can either save allll these people and let me get away, or let them die and catch me!" situation, he would catch the villain rather than save the people, lmao. He would also be a lot more confident/self-assured as Peter as well as Spider-man– I think the outward changes would be a lot more obvious for him than Tony, just because Peter suddenly being a confident-to-the-point-of-arrogance live-out-loud type would be a much bigger shift!

SIM!Tony and Extremis!Peter: oh this is the ideal for SIM, haha. (And was his actual plan, though he wouldn't have anticipated the changes to Peter's personality– until he found out that Peter already had a healing factor as Spider-man, he was going to inject Peter with Extremis to keep him safe from the compound released into the water supply.)

Peter would have the same "everyone else is inferior 💖except my dad💖" mental loophole that Tony does about Peter, and he would totally buy the "short-term crime for long-term utopia" plan once they knew each other's identities! (I'd say that things would get potentially very nasty before that point, but honestly egotistical Extremis!Peter would probably not be nearly as careful about safeguarding his identity, so Tony would figure it out before they had the chance to fuck each other up too bad lmao.)

So following that… their mutual obsession with each other would dovetail very nicely, haha. SIM would 100% get his "ruling the world from the shadows with my son-lover-queen at my side" fantasy and they would have a great time. There might be some bumps in the beginning when Peter's own ego rankled under Tony's paternalism but if anything I think Tony would come around to seeing this version of Peter as a legitimate equal, so they would get it sorted out pretty quickly. Happily ever after in awful toxic tooth-rotting villainous love!

Extremis!Peter and normal Tony: WOOF. Well, again, I think Tony would figure out Spider-man's identity pretty quickly, since even as non-Iron Man he would have reason to be curious about the vigilante causing just as much collateral damage as he was fixing, and he would have already noticed the changes in Peter's behavior.

Their interactions would be a mess. Peter would initially be enthusiastic about Tony knowing (because he wouldn't think he was doing anything wrong, obvs!) and would be disappointed and put out when Tony was horrified instead. I could see things going a couple different ways– Peter begrudgingly agreeing to be more careful if it would smooth things over with his dad, Peter forcing the point by challenging Tony on what he was actually going to do to stop Peter if Peter refused to change his ways (I don't know the answer to that question and neither would Tony lmao,) Tony cottoning on quickly that something had to have changed Peter for him to be acting like this and essentially deciding to play nice/supportive while he investigated what it was…

It would be a whole THING. And yes, I do think Peter's obsessive feelings towards Tony would take that sexual/romantic bent even without Extremis!Tony there to put the thought in his head just because, well, when you only accept one other person on the planet as being your near-equal…!! Which would be its own fucked-up dynamic that Tony would have to navigate once he caught on. Yikes!

Extremis!Peter and cured!Tony: if anything this would probably be easier for Tony to manage on the Peter side of things if not on his own "coping with what he did under the influence of Extremis" side of things! He would be able to better anticipate how Peter thought/worked to be able to manipulate him into a position where he could administer some kind of cure. But then, you know, he would have to contend with all the original consequences of SIM!Tony's actions on top of the new horrors of what he and Peter would've gotten up to as a team, so… still yikes!!

(A THOUGHT: I don't know that Tony would allow things to happen this way but it's hot to think about: reverse of the original fic where Extremis!Peter comes on to either normal or somehow-cured Tony, Tony plays along as a ploy to get into a position where he could inject Peter with a cure, but… Peter's enhanced and Tony's not, so Tony is too slow for Peter not to catch him in the act, Peter gets rid of the cure, and then he keeps right on going with the sex. 🥰)

tl;dr: yikes all around]]

[iocainesmoothie]

Been playing ffxiv, paid to skip HW but really enjoyed stormblood, saw emet-selch for the first time.

I'm very impressed that his first introduction to the player was to be shot and rag dolled down the stairs, it immediately differentiates him from the other ascians who just say ominous and vague nonsense that never amounts to anything. It was almost more sinister, because it really illustrates the point that the ascians are noncorporeal horrors piloting a meat puppet.

Also very minor detail but I noticed even back in stormblood, instead of writing a boring talk quest as "go talk to so-and-so", instead they say "go meet SOMEONE at such-and-such place". Like it's so very minor, but instead of straight up telling me who you're going to meet they just sorta hint and say how excited that person is to see you again.

Mechanically it's the exact same boring quest format, and maybe I don't otherwise even care about that character, but even that tiny bit of speculating who it is and the implication that they have any kind of emotional response AT ALL is already elevating the writing.

I get the majority of quest text boils down to telling the player to go to X or talk to Y or collect Z and there's only so many ways to do that, and clarity of communication is always top priority, but in something long format like an mmo where the player has likely plugged in a hundred hours already you can kinda assume they've been trained to expect a certain order of events and can play with the format a bit.

Also the last duty of sb was one of those "everyone shows up at the big battle as npcs and cheers at you to go on to the big boss while they hold back reinforcements" fights and it's very anime but honestly it always works on me.

Been leveling up dark knight, but I bought the level 80 warrior boost because I hate playing with other people and I wanted to solo a bunch of the main scenario raids instead of queueing. Also I'm playing dark knight because aesthetics, and tanking for a group is too much responsibility for me.

Honestly dk kinda sucks compared to paladin and warrior, way less mitigation and self healing, and though it feels like I'm doing more damage it's still not as much as a pure dps.

Also bought a bunch of clothes on the shop in a moment of weakness, but now my outfit is so cool I don't want to change into anything else! And I kinda miss wearing vanilla gear and seeing your outfit change as you pick up upgrades. Oh well atleast I'm cute and it avoids those awkward moments when a piece from a new set doesn't fit with your current fit.

Ffxiv clothing designs are so gorgeous, even the shitty low-level vanilla garbage is kinda cute. Ppl who buy store stuff obviously look good but I have way more respect for the glamours I see where people just got really creative with in-game items. The graphics are like 10 years out of date but the hair and clothes and faces are still miles better than some of biowares stuff (guys I love you I'm on your side let's figure this out you can't just make everyone bald)

Also I've noticed the cuts scene cameras do a trick anime does a lot to cut down animation costs, the framing and panning and angles do a LOT of the work when they otherwise can't get these limited models to emote that much. Or else they just fully cut away and let a sound effect imply an action took place and your brain just fills in the difference.

Anyway I'm addicted and am probably wasting a lot of time on things I should be doing instead but it's nice to have something to hyper fixate on for a while, and I haven't even started SB or EW and I've heard they're both life changing so maybe I'll just glut myself until I've wrung all the dopamine I can out of it.

Also I've realized there is such a jump in writing quality in SB that I'm only really emotionally attached to lyse and hien and the general, the rest of the scions are all kind of... idk unlikable?? They're all the same kind of snarky but not really funny, and speak intelligently but not really with any character or having much to say. Allisae being maybe the exception but I feel like she doesn't get much screen time compared to her brother.

It was very touching that she's the tough prickly one, but very honestly tells you she feels alone and sadly asks you not to leave her in a moment of vulnerability before the fight where she reaches for your hand desperately before her soul is teleported away. Like damn yeah this is manipulative but you got me! I'm invested now!

Also that little crystal cat boy was in arr and I never finished/paid attention to his quest line so idk how he ended up i SB, guess I'll find out.

[airplanned]

WIP Wednesday

I've been reading a lot of dire and horrifying and amazing stories lately, and I wanted to write something Super Goofy.

So here's the One Piece guys trying to con Nami to win a bet, which goes exactly as well as expected and has no intro whatsoever.

...

"You bet on when we would hook up?" Zoro asks.

"Uhhh," Usopp says.

Why the fuck would they do that?  That's one of the weirdest things he's ever heard that didn't involve magic or unicycles or Luffy.

Okay, maybe it's not really that weird, but it still doesn't make any sense.

From across the room, Sanji looks so confused that he can't even speak, something that has never happened before.  He just has his stupid eyes squinted and his mouth half open about to say something.  Then a different something.  Then a different something..  Zoro's just thinking that maybe Usopp's nonsense has a silver lining after all, when Sanji eventually lands on, "...Why?"

Usopp looks back and forth between them, but doesn't answer.

"How much was the bet?" Sanji asks.

"A million berry?"  As soon as he says it, Usopp throws up his hands to defend himself.  "I was drunk!  And I don't have a million berry, so maybe if y'all could just hold out--I mean, if you could continue not making out until after midsummer, I'd really appreciate it."

"I'm not doing anything you'd appreciate right now," Zoro mutters, even though on second thought, not making out is exactly how he wants this situation to play out, so what is he even talking about?  Thankfully Usopp is too nervous to notice the stupid thing he just said, and Sanji has his head tilted as he thinks way too hard about something else.

"So Nami bet before midsummer," Sanji says.

"Yeah."

"And you bet before when?"

"I bet--Oh!  I bet never.  Because you two aren't like that.  Obviously.  See, I'm on your side."  He nods enthusiastically.

"Gonna call bullshit on that one, man," Sanji says.  "You bet even earlier."

"Whaaaat?  Meee?  That would be--That'd be the worst bet ever."

"A drunk bet," Zoro mutters.

What the fuck?  Why is the crew talking about him while they're drunk?

A smile spreads across Sanji's face.  Sharklike.  It makes Usopp back up a step.  It makes all the hair on the back of Zoro's neck stand on end.  Alarm bells go off in the back of his head.

Nothing good can come of that look.

"Usopp," Sanji says, "how would you like to make a third of a million berry?"

#

It's a bad plan.  The absolute worst kind of convoluted nonsense that's bound to go wrong and cause trouble.  At least this time no one's in danger of dying (unless Nami kills them).  And Zoro is used to going along with stupid-assed plans, resigned to his position as first mate to mitigate damage. 

He's also not gonna say no to a third of a million berries, and he'll get to get back at Nami for being too much in his business.

Honestly, he's kinda surprised the waiter came up with a plan that relies so heavily on fucking over Nami, but Zoro's not about to point that out.

"Alright, let's go through the plan one more time," Sanji says. "Usopp, your job is to patch the rip in the spare sail we've all been putting off.  She'll be pleased to see you're doing it, so when your hands are full and you ask her to go get you some more glue, she'll go get it for you."

For a brief moment, Zoro thinks maybe this whole scheme is a big double cross, intended to trick Usopp into doing the chores no one wants to do. 

"This will bring her down here to storage, where Zoro and I will wait.  We kiss once."  He holds up a single finger.  "When her footsteps reach the bottom of the stairs.  Then pull apart right after she opens the door.  She will have her evidence that the bet is won.  At this point--"  He points at Zoro.

"I say my line," he recites, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.  This is not the stupidest thing he's ever done, but it's close.

"And it is--"

"Get out."

"Good job, Mossball.  And I'll say, 'Don't speak to Nami like that!'"

"Then we fight."

"Exactly.  Win the bet and break up in one single swoop.  We can't have this charade going on any longer than it needs to.  I will defend her honor and you'll say--"

"This was a mistake."

"I am revolted that I touched you.  It must have been a moment of insanity."

"I will throw you off the front of the ship and then run you over."

"Perfect!" Sanji beams.  "Alright, let's win a million berries!"

Zoro and Usopp exchange a look.  Zoro's says, "This is fucking stupid."  Usopp's weird cringe that shows off all his bottom teeth says that he has no desire to do any part of this plan, but he's also very afraid of getting kicked in the chest.

Zoro rolls his eyes.  "Fuck it."

#

Now's the part in the brilliant plan that will supposedly fool Nami (for fuck's sake, this isn't gonna work) when they need to look like they were making out.

Ugh.

Just to be annoying, Zoro shoves at Sanji's jacket to get him to take it off.  Then tries to throw it on the floor when he's successful in getting it off, but the waiter catches it before it hits the ground.  "Hey!  Don't throw it on the floor.  That's a nice jacket!"  He sets it on top of a box so it won't wrinkle or something.

Zoro gives it a long look.

"What?"

"So we stumbled in here, tore off your jacket, and then stopped everything to gently fold it and set it down very carefully?  That's the story you're tell here?"

"Oh, and you think we should rip it in half or something?  You monster." He's going after the knot in his tie with more irritation than is probably good for it.

Zoro takes his seat on a crate chosen to be at optimal height and right in the line of sight of the door.  He shifts his swords around, but suspects they're going to be in the way no matter what. "At least throw it on the floor."

"It's dirty!"

Zoro rolls his eyes so hard his head hits the hull behind him. 

Now Sanji has his tie in his hands and is about to set it down in  tidy pile on top of his jacket before he thinks better of it.  His eyes dart to Zoro, and at his bland look, he tosses it onto a barrel in a way that Zoro guesses is supposed to make it look natural, but is actually overly-purposeful.

Sanji undoes like half the buttons on his shirt, and Zoro scruffs up his hair, and then he suddenly has a lap full of cook.  Before he can be overly-annoyed by this, Sanji's going after his hair, because apparently Zoro didn't do a good enough job making it disheveled on his own.  Zoro gets back at him by ruffling his hair, which gets way more messed up, and then tugging his shirt down one shoulder so it'll show off skin.

Zoro tries to adjust his swords again (hey, guess what, they're in the way) when Sanji tugs up Zoro's shirt by the hem until it's caught under his armpits.

"Stop touching my hair!"  Sanji swats at him and then glares from behind a lot of messed up hair.

Zoro snorts and then tries to use both hands to push it aside.

"I said stop touching it!"

"I'm not kissing you through the hair, dumbass."

"And whose fault is that?"

"All of this is your fault."

"I'll keep your cut then."

"This isn't gonna work."

"It's fine.  Shut up.  You--"

Someone's coming down the stairs.

For a second, they give each other wide-eyed looks, because fuck, they didn't not think any of this through.  And then her steps his the bottom of the stairs, and Sanji has a hand in his hair, yanking him into a kiss, that's brutal and moving and roaring.  Zoro's fist tightens on the dress shirt, pulling it further down his arm, using it to pull him closer.  Sanji's breath from his nose beats hot against his cheek, his hand splaying against Zoro's chest inside his rucked up shirt, his fingers chilly and Zoro's skin erupting in goosebumps. 

Zoro's trying to deal with the tongue in his mouth, making sure he gives back as good as he gets, so he misses the door opening, but he hears the sharp gasp.

When Sanji's head whips around, he looks appropriately shocked and terrorized.  Nami has a hand slapped over her mouth, her face red and her knuckles white where she's still holding the doorknob.

"Get out!" Zoro shouts.

"D--" Sanjis starts, but he doesn't even get the word out before Nami shouts, "Right!" spins on her heel, and slams the door behind her.

They stare at it in silence.

Neither of them breath.

From the other side of the door, Nami shouts, "Congratulations!" and then there's the sound of her running up the stairs.

Sanji's not moving at all.  Zoro thinks he might have died until he released his breath in a horrified, "Fuuuuuuck."

"Fuck," Zoro agrees.  He knew this was a bad idea.

"At least we won a million berries," he says, but then Sanji shifts his weight to cram a knee into his side.

[invaders-cookbook]

Invader's Cookbook #3: Keeping your mind and body healthy

Invasions in Elden Ring are insanely difficult to the point of being unwinnable sometimes. It's part of the charm, it's what makes them so appealing to people like me. The game doesn't shy away from putting you into situations where your winning chances are absolutely random, and it's up to you to deal with them. You never know when the tides are going to turn, which makes them so exciting.

But this excitement comes at a cost of risking extreme frustration. Winning against the odds feels great, but not everyone is going to beat the odds, especially if you're new to invasions! Frustration can come both from outwards (the game put you into an unwinnable situation) and inwards (You see that you're underperforming and lose a winnable situation) That's why it's important to keep your cool and mitigate the effects of frustration.

Here are the things that help me personally to not only to mitigate frustration, but also significantly improve

1. Keep your body healthy.

I am not exaggerating when I'm saying this, your winrate spikes tenfold when you take care of yourself! This is so important. I know it's kinda general life advice, but you'll be surprised how much it actually matters.

I am not kidding, you play 200% better after a shower. Try it, I'm serious.

Remember to eat healthy food sometimes! Full regular meals improve your mood and performance drastically! I can't overstate how much better you play when you have a full meal!

And PLEASE sleep well. I am serious. Sleep is integral part of your physical and mental health. I know it's tough to keep a good sleep schedule, and not everyone has time to sleep, but please do, whenever you can, try your best to have regular sleep! If you're reading this post when it's past your bedtime, first of all, reblog and tell me in the tags, and second, GO TO SLEEP! NOW!!!

2. You are not going to beat the odds every time. That's how odds work. But you can set them in your favour.

You lost again, because the coop has already completed the entire area and you were backed against a fogwall against multiple players. What were you supposed to do?

I agree, that situation is really, really bullshit. But that's invasions. Every time you use that bloody finger you roll a cosmic dice, and if you roll low, you simply don't get a good situation. What works for me is changing my goals in a particular invasion. It goes from "Kill the host" to "Kill that single phantom" or "Deal the most damage I can possibly do" or just simply "Not die for as long as I can". Land a cool combo! Befriend the host*! Poison them! Go out on your own terms!

Sometimes changing your goal according to the situation is enough to offset your frustration.

* – DO NOT do this when there is another phantom around. You're getting blocked for this. You are not only a dickhead, you also lower the pool of possible co-invaders that can connect with you and help you out in the future. Respect your teammates.

3. Take breaks

Invasions are intense as hell, and you can't just invade back to back untill you exhaust yourself! Try to take breaks from the game, so your skills are always at 80-100%! The more you play without breaks the worse it gets.

This also helps if you're having a bad losing streak. Generally I'm trying to take 10 minute breaks if I get two consecutive losses. Interestingly enough, putting myself on a 10 minute time-out forces me to find something else to do, which kinda helps me with chores. It's not for everyone, but my ADHD ass loves this.

You can use your break to do some stretches, or go for a walk, or do the dishes. Anything, really! It's up to you! Whatever frustration you had will fade away and you will be at your maximum capacity again!

Another thing you can use your break for is some wrist and eye exercises! It's good for your health and will make you more relaxed and focused.

4. Change things up: try a new build, start a new playthrough!

This is what I personally enjoy doing. Experiment with different playstyles and try invading at different level ranges. For that of course you need a new build and a new character. Creating a character with invading in mind is very fun and challenging, and it allows you to do some more calm stuff on the side when you're not in the mood for invading on your main character.

Not sure what build to choose? Ask @huggingentacles for build suggestions!

[mslanna]

Red-Handed in Hell

Chapter 5 of Be My Guest now on AO3

In which Haarlep has to endure the ordeal of being seen as their own person, Tav argues with Raphael about poetry until they are both bothered but only one gets release.

I got WAY too invested in the literary argument here. *le sigh* Yes, I am sorry. Yes, it is likely to happen again. 😔

Tav shifts from one leg to the other for an uncomfortable minute before they dash into the boudoir. The devil has returned to his war and for a hot moment Tav worries how this will look if Raphael instead returned here for a second scolding

The incubus is on the bed, their lounge a little strained. They raise their head when Tav approaches and the spite in their eyes is unusually muted. Tav wonders what you can do to another fiend without it showing. Slightly slumped shoulders paint a clear enough sign.

Tav approaches the bed carefully. "Haarps? You don't look so good."

An eyebrow rises at the informal address. "Ah, there they are. My precious little blabbermouse."

"Are you alright?"

"Of course," the incubus replies lightly. "For a certain amount of alright.

Tav climbs onto the bed and scrutinises Haarlep closely. On the surface, at least, there are no wounds, bruises or scars. "I'm so sorry. I asked him to be kind to you and that was the exact wrong thing to say I tried to mitigate it, but…" Tav trails off.

The other eyebrow rises as Haarlep tilts their head. "Did you beg on your bare knees, little mouse? Sucked him off there and then?"

"I- No!" Tav is taken aback.

The incubus snorts in disbelief. "Then this," they indicate the length of their body, "is a veritable miracle. Are you sure you didn't do something outrageous to him? So depraved and dirty his horny little horns fell right off?"

Tav blushes violently. Not just at the thought but at the ungodly amount of details their own brain supplies to conceivable scenarios. "I did nothing," they stutter. "Nothing but ask, I swear."

"Curious." Haarlep doesn't sound as if the believe the human, but they drop the subject. "So, what do you want?" They sound tired.

"I just wanted to check on you. See if Raphael kept his word." Tan presses their hands between their knees. "See if there's something I can do to help. Amends, you know?"

Haarlep looks at Tav as if they see them for the first time. "I am fine," they finally say. "There is nothing you can do."

Tav nods, pressing their knees together. There are slight shadows under Haarlep's eyes. The incubus has definitely taken damage and it takes all out of Tav not to grab those red shoulders and shake the incubus until truth falls from their lips. "Okay," they get out. "But if something comes up, you let me know."

"Oh, you will be the first to know," Haarlep grins. "Your mere existence agitates our dear devil. And now he is trapped in his own house with you like a moth in a lamp. If there is anything you can do to make this even more delicious, I will let you know."

"That's not what I mean," Tav murmurs. It seems unfair that they should be the only one never seeing a lick of Raphael's alleged interest in them. Out loud they add: "it definitely burns and stinks."

"Better than being trapped in Cania. The cold really gets to you after a while. Good thing you showed up when you did."

"You were there, too?" Tav asks. "How? Why?"

"I am a gift from Raphael’s father, meant to distract and spy on him." Haarlep chuckles.

"And? Do you?"

"Of course," Haarlep laughs. "Oh, you sweet little mousling. So naive. Utterly unfit for the hells."

"You were nice to me," Tav murmurs. "I hoped you are just-"

"Nice?" Haarlep asks gently. "Maybe I will - for you. Because I like you."

"And because it pisses Raphael off."

"Yes, that too, of course."

"Alright, if you are now being nice to me-"

Haarlep puts a finger over Tav's lips. "Go play in your library. Raphael will be most unhappy if you do not."

The incubus has a point. Tav nods with slumping shoulders. They scuttle backwards until they reach the edge of the bed and climb down. "I shall be reading then. And Haarps, take care."

The incubus shoos them away without an answer.

Half-way around the pool the spring returns to Tav's step. A library. A whole, big-ass library all for them. The devil better have it stacked with the good stuff. If it was all scientific papers and memoirs they'd clobber him to death with an especially heavy tome.

They close the dark wooden door behind them and breathe in the scent of paper and ink, leather and dust. There is an index close to the entrance and reading nooks scattered about. Tav spies a desk or two on each floor. They could do some work here, should they decide to. They have time. Maybe learn a language? Infernal sounds about fucking useful right now.

Days go by. Tav reads a lot. It means getting out of Raphael's feet who returns the favour, ironically, by taking the time to actually talk to Tav. Mostly about books. He takes fiendish delight in hinting at things and Tav finding the book alluded to and returning with receipts.

Haarlep resigns themself to a book club, though Tav knows they start to enjoy it, especially when they bring out the extremely graphic descriptions – sex or gore doesn't matter as long as things are excruciating and end with a final release.

When another intruder announces their arrival, Tav finds themself suddenly armoured up in their chair, war hammer clattering to the ground beside them. It is not their old armour, though it fits perfectly. It shines in hues of gold, offset with blue, their favourite combination. And it smells of hellfire.

Their eyes glow wide with glee. Helldusk armour is hard to come by and impossible to afford. Tav bounces their weapon off the breast plate. Hells, yes! They are ready to cave in some skulls if necessary. They are slightly scared at how much they hope it will be necessary.

Again Tav sits down on a soul pillar's platform. They dangle their legs and try to be unthreatening, which is a little difficult in full battle armour, covered in fiendish spikes and sigils. But their war hammer is out of reach.

After a few minutes, the portal hisses into life and a half-orc steps out. Seeing Tav, they attack immediately. Which is unfortunate, because Tav launches form the platform as if spring coiled. Two hits is all it takes before clean up.

"You don't have to do that yourself," Raphael says later. They sit in an alcove overlooking the Feast Hall, wine and books on the table between them.

"But I have so little else to do," Tav sighs. "It is a change. For a while, at least."

"Does the library not fulfil you?" The devil raises a brow and his glass. The deep red wine within is almost black.

Tav takes a sip themself. The bouquet is as heavy as the colour, heady and full of velvet that runs sown their throat smoothly, keeping embers in their stomach aglow. "It's only words. Sometimes I need something a little more – tangible."

"You keep visit Haarlep."

"Not for that." Tav shakes their head.

"You should try it. It clears the head nicely." Raphael watches them closely over the rim of his glass, like a predator waiting for its prey to make a wrong move, ready to pounce.

Tav wished he'd actually pounce for once. They'd take a fight if nothing else was an option. Shaking the images off, Tav picks up the open book before them. "You're still wrong," they pick up the conversation where it let off the day before.

"How so?" Raphael smiles in indulgent amusement. Arguing with his unruly pup takes his mind off the war. It is going well, the Crown of Karsus is an exceptional piece of equipment and though Zariel knows he's coming for her, there is nothing she can do.

The library and job have also calmed Tav down to a point where the devil can enjoy their spunky little rebellions – vain as they all are. A little more work and they will be ripe for the plucking. The time until Tav's soul is out of Mephistopheles' hands is counted and Raphael intends to be there to pick up the slack. He will have this morsel all to himself.

But all in good time. So far the poor soul has not even realised their own hands are the least satisfying option in this House. Raphael leans back, unfolding his wings a little. They would come around. And once they did, he would know.

"Transiency is an integral part of affection," Tav pushes the book at him, opened on the page of the poem they are currently arguing about.

"The narrator says himself 'the sunset is eternal/If only you move fast enough' right here." Raphael points at the line in question. "Making perfection attainable if you have the right means. It's a skill issue."

"That is meant to point out how impossible and futile the pursuit of eternity is," Tav counters. "To pursue an eternal sunset, you have to give up everything else. Not to mention that here," they tap onto lines in another stanza, he clearly states that 'love is sweet because its fare/is only but a breath from death'. By By turning the ethereal immutable, you lose its essence."

"But you still have an eternal sunset, the aim of the whole exercise."

"No, that', that's like,” Tav fishes for words. "It's like me. Here. Saying that just because I'm staying here you have my soul."

"As long as you stay, I do." Raphael leans back. "In a manner of speaking."

"But it is ethereal, because as soon as I set my foot outside, my soul is very definitely Mephistopheles'. It is part of the appeal."

"Do you really believe that having your soul in the palm of my hand forever is less appealing than having you run through my house in your quaint mortal body?" He raises a brow and gives the body in question a once-over. In an ideal hell, he naturally has both. Until he truly owns them, Raphael will make do.

They argue for some time longer, neither giving up on their position. It is this stubbornness that is endearing Tav to the devil, the refusal to give up despite obvious defeat. It doesn't harm that the wine flushes their cheek and sets a soft sheen over their sparkling eyes. Raphael keeps his hands tight around the stem of his wineglass. The other firm on his thigh, nail digging through the fabric.

"As we agree to have different opinions about the meaning of the poem, I suggest we move on," he finally says. "May I suggest ‘Red-Handed in Hell’ for your consideration?"

It is, on purpose, a poem not in any of the books before them. Tav takes the hint and gets ready to leave. They empty their glass so they can carry it and the bottle in one hand and shake their had as they pass the devil. "One day, I will get you."

Raphael doesn't reply, only the hand resting on his thing tightens. Tav wonders what they said now that was wrong again. But they don't linger. Time with the Master of the House is rare and they are not willing to risk their privileges by dawdling.

And the devil lets them pocket the wine. A small boon for being good, probably. And his cellar is exquisite. And the buzz drowns out Tav's muffled yearning and anger for a while. The headaches the next morning are a small price to pay.

Tav picks out the correct book from the index and sets up in their favourite reading nook. By stealing a pillow or blanket now and then when visiting Haarlep, they created a small nest, complete with canopy, to curl up in to read. The wine is set down in a safe distance, glass within reach.

The poem in question actually fills up the whole book. Tav sighs. Epic poems are all very nice, but having an argument with Raphael about something the length of a couple of stanzas was bad enough. This could lead to outright war. They smile to themself. Maybe, if they play their cards right, the devil will pounce after all. They start reading with a smile.

Red Handed in Hell I stand with one foot in the grave, my life is already forfeit; There is nothing left to lose, so what if it's a one way trip. Have you heard of the Rosymorn Knight, Lathander blessed in armour bright? Oh the deeds I have done, the beasts I have slain, the glory I found, but all is in vain! Mortal hearts are feeble, their bodies a ruin as they go to eternal death. I will not sink into oblivion, with eternity I will be blessed!

One of those, Tav thinks to themself. But going to the hells for a deal with a devil is a popular story, mostly a cautionary tale. Discussing this with Raphael may prove interesting.

Tav reaches for the glass when a draught catches their neck. They turn but the door is closed and their blanket fort is warm and snug. The feeling stays though, and Tav reaches back with a hand. Their skin is warm, no hint of cold air.

When the feeling drops over their shoulders and slowly makes it way between their legs, realisation hits them. Haarlep. Has to be. The caress is minuscule, it winds in and out of existence, like a finger drawing wind onto Tav's skin.

They ignore it and reach for the book again. Reading helps, though Tav cannot stop scouring their body every now and then to see if the feeling persists. The results are unclear. Sometimes they find echoes of it, sometimes they do not.

Tav downs a glass of wine and fills up again. The buzz packs their brains into a comfortable layer of cotton. They might not remember much of the book they read, but they won't remember anything else either. An acceptable solution.

[crystalprofessor]

headcanon; rewriting an old one I lost in the purge. (It actually does still exist on my headcanon sideblog but it's old and stinky so we're replacing it anyway.) Battling! League Rules, Pokemon Moves, and Street Battling!

All battles fall into one of two categories: League, which is anything officially regulated by the League itself, and Street, what we as players of pokémon would refer to as random trainer encounters. At least, that's the surface level definition of it. In actuality, Street Battling is more of a subculture within pokémon trainers.

"Street Battling" as a term was coined around when the modern Pokémon League and Gym System was first established, but as it encompasses basically all battles prior to that point, it goes without saying that it had existed for about as long as people have been doing competitive pokémon battling. In fact, the League—or at least the Gym and Championship system, which we'll just assume is what I mean when I say 'League' from here on out—was sort of established in response to Street Battling.

As competitive battling became more and more popular among trainers and organized competition began to take off, the League was born out of a necessity to regulate it, mainly to mitigate possible damage and injuries to participants. These standards have changed a lot since the old days, but broadly, what they define are the limits of a battlefield, definitions of what constitutes a "legal" move, restrictions on how many pokémon could battle at a time, what counts as a pokémon being incapable of battle, and so forth. You know, sports stuff. A lot of that is self explanatory, so we're gonna focus on the one that sounds the most confusing: Moves.

"Abby, don't pokémon just Inherently Know Moves?" Well, yeah, sure, but that's abstraction for the sake of a video game. (Pokémon but with Nintendogs rules where you have to reinforce what you mean by "vine whip" by saying it into the crappy little speaker repeatedly and praying your bulbasaur understands would probably get old fast.) In reality, trainers have to... well, train their pokémon. They're all capable of doing those things, obviously, but the exact conditions and circumstances under which they use them are the matter of League regulation. Basically: you can use your bulbasaur's vines to whack the other guy's pokémon, and that's a legal move called Vine Whip, but you can't use them as a tripwire. Using Ice Beam to attack another pokémon directly is fine, but using it to create a slippery surface? Illegal until relatively recently. It also puts some limits on how intense certain moves are allowed to be, such as Earthquake, in the interest of making sure spectators and trainers don't come to any harm. (Fun fact! 'Dig' was not a legal move for a surprisingly long time. It was pretty controversial when it was finally added, but nowadays you wouldn't know as it's basically a staple.)

So, in short, the league defined a number of "legal" moves usable in official battles, mainly defined by the capabilities of pokémon native to whatever region they were regulating, so on and so forth. It was pretty rudimentary in the early days, honestly, and so it didn't really take off much at first. At least not until the League started cracking down a bit more on enforcing these regulations outside of official battles in order to normalize them. Trainers battling outside of League Facilities could be hit with strikes on their trainer cards or even fines and jail time depending on the "severity". You know, like how jaywalking was a made up crime to make cars the norm. There is something to be said for the reduction of injuries after these practices became standard, but most experts nowadays agree it was pretty excessive.

Anyway, moving on, the League Standard would eventually become the accepted norm and very rarely would you see trainers deviating from them. One vs. one battles, with a restricted selection of usable moves, limitations on how much you could alter the battlefield, and predetermined boundaries for battling within. Which, in turn, made the league way more popular, because—duh, everybody already knows the rules! It lowered the barrier to entry and made the Gym Battle a standard challenge.

But you know who hates being told what to do? That's right, punk-ass teens! Well, alright, the trainers who popularized the modern Street Battle format were not, in fact, all teens, but it was associated with that sort of counterculture in the same way skateboarding was for a long time. Trainers who were frustrated with the restrictive and oftentimes repetitive nature of League Battles would host unsanctioned tournaments with looser rules (in varying degrees), oftentimes hosted in "non-standard" battlefields, such as densely forested areas, steep cliffs, back streets, and other areas with more obstacles and challenges than the League Standard open battlefield. This counterculture of "Street Trainers," as they were called, became pretty popular, even as League regulations loosened somewhat with the advancement of research and technology.

Street Battling remains a pretty popular trainer subculture and has been able to make the move to be less "underground" in the years since it originated. While the image associated with it still tends to be reckless teens breaking the rules for fun, the Street Battle scene is actually most popular with very experienced trainers looking to shake the "meta" of what does and doesn't work in League Battles and get to test the limits of their pokémons' abilities and their own skills as a trainer. Formats like double, triple, and rotation battles were officially added to most leagues after being popularized by the Street Battling community, and several facilities, like the Battle Towers, were established by the league in an interest of catering to such trainers.

Now, most Street Battle rules are completely determined by the individuals organizing tournaments, preferences of the trainers involved, the actual limitations of where they are, etc.—but there are two pretty universally accepted rules that the community abides by.

First—don't do anything that'll get you arrested and/or killed, stupid. You'd think it would go without saying, but some people need reminding. Causing any major property damage (that you'll get caught for), trespassing in actively dangerous locations (such as active construction sites), and doing any permanent harm to the other party are all examples of taboos that most seasoned street trainers will give you the boot for. (Trespassing on the whole can be a bit controversial, but most will ignore it as long as the location is confirmed to be safe. Nobody's really going to get mad for hosting your tournament in the empty husk of an old shopping mall or something as long as you keep it subtle enough that nobody's getting caught.)

Second—the only League regulation that is universally abided by is the definition of a "faint," the point at which a pokémon is no longer fit to battle. This is because the League Standard is, 100%, a pretty thoroughly-researched safety regulation. While most pokémon can, in theory, continue battling beyond the point of a faint, they absolutely should not as it risks severe and permanent harm. This is one that, if you break, you will almost certainly immediately be ejected from the group and not welcomed back. Trainers who do this are more or less blacklisted from local Street Battling communities.

[blaiddraws]

Finished watching trigun anime today, they killed off my favorite character in the last 5 episodes so now I'm sad

May I have a quick summary of your gunsmoke au so far

sure! i was devastated first time i watched the show and that happened. and it hurts every time i rewatch it as well.

fortunately i will not be killing off any characters <3

this is the second and shortened time i wrote this and it's STILL Quite A Bit Long. anyway here's a read more

emmet and ingo are a pair of twins that survived the SEEDS ships crash after an unexpected and massive solar flare basically messes with all of the navigation systems (and like. everything else.)

emmet is a bit disillusioned with humanity but he's not like. evil and murdery like knives. but he still doesn't like being around humans that much. ingo is Not like that.

eventually ingo disappears, emmet is distraught.

a strange man wakes up in the distant settlement of Pearl, and is given the name Nobori.

after a while nobori ends up wandering the planet for. decades. emmet starts hearing rumors about nobori and has a very tiny hope. but it's enough to get him to actually try searching for ingo again. since he's actually out and doing stuff he somehow (and unwillingly--) picks up a small group of stragglers that follow him around for some reason. he's not particularly a fan of this but they're helpful so he deals.

it all culminates to nobori and emmet meeting each other in the city of July. all nobori can remember of July is flashes of confusion and panic and fear and a horrible horrible light.

and emmet is. he's. confused and upset. his brother blasted his legs off-- did he really hate emmet That Much? so as much as emmet wants to find him and reunite. that ended real bad last time. so he hides himself away again and intentionally does Not try to seek out Ing-Nobori.

nobori wakes up confused once again, this time sans an arm. also a bounty on his head for destroying one of the biggest cities on the planet. wonder what that's all about ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

eventually through events emmet's weird little gang ends up taking care of this little girl-- dawn. they're not the best parents and she grows up to be self reliant far earlier than she should have.

Emmet still doesn't want anything to do with his brother (LIE) but once Dawn is old enough he sends her off to find Nobori and keep tabs on him. but like. don't tell emmet about anything unless it is significantly life threatening.

meanwhile two insurance girls, Elesa and Skyla, have been ordered to stick around the walking calamity, Nobori the Eclipse, to try and mitigate any damages that may occur because of him. shenanigans and fun times.

(-- at some point, not sure where exactly to first bring her in, but the gang ends up crossing paths with Zisu. ex-sheriff turned bounty hunter/hired gun, after a series of moral disagreements with the mayor of her old town led to her being kicked out. zisu isn't dumb enough to go seek out the bounty for nobori but she's also not dumb enough to take the opportunity that's presented to her hhdkshdjdjhf. but through a series of events she and nobori are forced to work Together and afterwards she decides. nah i actually like this guy he's neat :> and kinda sticks around, not necessarily always traveling with the squad but they do cross paths a lot)

and so as nobori and elesa and skyla are in a bus crossing the desert, they find some kid passed out in the middle of nowhere. dawn ends up sticking around full-time. you know for no reason in particular or anything. (and nobori cannot help but adore this weird little girl. feels oddly protective over her. this will not develop into parental feelings at all (lie))

and thus, the gang has grown and so has the propensity to chaos and shenanigans.

the "current" day story, what u see in the anime and manga, is a lot more vague than the rest of the backstory, but there's a lot of nobori running from his decades-due existential crisis, weird stuff starts happening, friend and family bonding. even More weird stuff. nobori starts getting the barest flashes of memory-- both of July and also Before. and eventually eventually eventually, emmet and nobori finally reunite and no one gets their legs blasted off.

(emmet learning that his brother has amnesia like. oh. oh . i could have avoided so much stuff if i thought of that)

OKAY. PHEW. GOT THAT ALL OUT.

basically albeit Quite Vaguely;

Nobori/Ingo takes vash's role

Emmet takes knives's role

Elesa and Skyla take Meryl and Milly's roles, respectively

Dawn and Zisu both take/share wolfwood's role, in different aspects of said role

- various other npcs such as irida and kamado and the wardens show up as assorted side characters throughout the entire thing. for example, irida is one of the kids that nobori knew way WAY back when. kamado is the mayor of the town zisu came from. rei is actually the one that made nobori's prosthetic arm, from technology he'd scavenged from a seeds ship. (it's not too advanced and doesn't have a gun in it like vash's, though). akari is rei's sibling and Dawn's grandma. drayden is also mayor of a town (specific idea there that we don't have time to get into fhdkbdjsd). volo is Some Guy who tries to sell them stuff that shows up occasionally but doesn't have plot relevance. etc etc etc

- the gung ho guns obviously,, aren't really a thing. the characters certainly exist SOMEWHERE but they're Different. and not the gung ho guns.

- bringing in backstory and minor plot aspects of the manga, but the plot is something more similar to the anime. out of 100 percent personal preference, i just liked the anime's plot better.

- yes this means tessla did exist. that was such an integral part to their backstory I'm sad it didn't get included in the anime. for people who don't know the manga. well. i do plan on making something about that eventually, so. >:)

[generalluxun]

Talking about about abuse and psychological damage, have you the last chapter of stripped socks in ao3¿ I think it really nails what an emotional and mental breakdown in a teenage girl looks like and how friendships can shatter without salting any characters, very good reading.

Thanks for the ask. I had bookmarked it instead of subbing so I was a few chapters behind. I left my thoughts on comments there. Especially in chapter 6, a full breakdown of Marinette.

Let's see if I can copy-pasta it. (Also: people should go read this fic. It is quite good and I am extremely picky)

This is headcanon/psychoanalysis territory but it fits so *well*.

Re:Marinette several things are all simultaneously true.

She feels tremendous guilt not only for what is known, but also what is not known. She recognizes the real wrongs she has done and feels genuine remorse.

She feels resentful, she is a 14yr old girl who fought multiple grown adult supervillains with wildly inadequate training or support most of the time. She's also Ladybug, the one with the answers! The entire city dumped the responsibility for protecting itself on her shoulders.

She has a taste for control. She's Ladybug the leader! She's got tremendous power! This dropped into the life of someone who felt previously powerless. The tendency to swing is obvious. Control the situation, control the information, mitigate chances for embarrassment, slather everything in Bathos, bury uncomfortable truths, keep everyone two steps behind so you can be ready when they catch up to yesterday. Adrien, Su-Han, Gabriel, all of it. You see how it is interwoven itself into who she is now.

She has no legitimate stricture authority anymore. Law enforcement? Powerless. The Mayor? Corrupt. Fu? Gone

Su-Han? Incompetent. Her partner? Smitten. This isn't on her at all but it feeds into her response here. (Curiously a state similar to Chloé's at one point again)

Note:These aren't distinct parts of her or meticulous thoughts. It's a hodgepodge of emotions, reactions, learned behaviors, desperation, and yes on some level deliberate ill-will(we all have some)

So what happens when the truth is forced out? Honestly I think we get a large-scale reaction of how she would have handled Adrien. (She's 14, always remember.) Control was stripped away from her. She wasn't *forced* to do anything, except be honest without her filters.

She leans all into the self-blame/self-harm narrative.

This ticks all the boxes above. She *does* feel bad, bit there is no legitimate authority to hold her accountable, those that can don't. Lacking that catharsis she is left with only the disapproval of the masses, people she does resent on some level, people who know nothing. The panels, the armchair coaches, the mob. What *right* do they have? Well... Every right, because shd is a hero, and she knows this, but will their response be proportional and constructive? Ha. It's the mob.

However, if Marinette deliberately enflames them. If she pushes the 'hate me' if she *feeds* their emotional reaction then she can discount it all, in her heart, as blind hatred. She can de-legitimize caring critique by flooding it with emotional feedback. Hence- 'hate me' to her friends. 'I have to be the villain', because she knows she isn't but if she can make people treat her like one, she can fight against that -in her heart-. She can keep the reckoning at arm's length. The more dear the rejection the more she can justify her own secret-keeping. 'I knew they wouldn't understand, and this is proof'.

And for those who won't turn on her? It's classic sympathy fishing. If I hate me/mock me harder than anyone, those who really care will rush to my defense unconditionally. They will be my duvet against the reality of the situation, because their instinct will be to nurture, to justify in my place, and to be 'on my side'.

Again-this isn't some grand villainous scheme, this is the broken toxic self-defense mechanisms of a kid who has been put in multiple positions well past her depth.

This is why Plagg is so perfect here. He denies her sympathy, but he doesn't seek to punish her. He admits his anger, he tells her plainly what she needs to do to make things right. He holds her accountable in a way no one else will, and gives her a path out of the darkness.

It is exactly what she needs, and also what she is terrified of, because it really *is* something she can fail at. And canon tells us Marinette will do anything to avoid being emotionally vulnerable.

I'm rooting for this Marinette to seize this opportunity and grow. I'm rooting for Kagami and Zoé to find the balance of love and accountability that Marinette's life has lacked.

[sigridstumb]

My autism journey: Physical sensations are unreliable narrators

So I've been working with a therapist on my alexithymia. I asked her where the key is for this map. Other people seem to be able to detect when they are having a feeling and can also identify it. I asked, how can they tell that they are having a feeling? She said that frequently there are physical signs in one's body.

Great! What are they, and which symptom correlates to which emotion?

WHERE IS THE KEY FOR THIS MAP.

Apparently there really isn't one. She sent me a link to the Emotion-Sensation Wheel, which is mildly useful. Mostly in my objecting that when I have X physical sensation is has nothing to do with whatever emotion-word she correlated. This is useful in two ways. First, it let me know that I do have some sort of internal definition of some feelings, that I know that "restless" does not mean I am feeling "anger." Second, every time I thought, "no, that's not what that means," I then pondered what it might mean instead.

Here's the thing. Bodily sensations are a SHITTY guide to ANYTHING, because they all indicate more than one thing. Hands-shaking could mean anxiety, or rage, or an essential or intention tremor, or lack of food, or fever and chills, or over-exertion, or a dozen other things. Bodies communicate shit all the time, and most of it is worth ignoring. Yes, Meatsack, I know your shins hurt, they've been hurting for two days, I have stretched and done massage, now shut the fuck up. Yes, Meatsack, I know your digestion is disordered, it has been for years, you don't have a gallbladder anymore, shut up.

I do not listen to my body except under certain specific conditions.

New pain requires that I examine it, assess it, determine a cause (if possible,) and decide what the best mitigation is (if possible.) New pain that either prevents my daily function or does not go away after two weeks indicates that consultation with a medical professional is required. For instance, when I caught my finger in a blender it was a new pain, the cause was evident, it interfered with my daily function, I knew it would not resolve on its own in a manner I desired, so I went to urgent care. Another example, when my (already permanently damaged) foot had very sharp stabbing pain that was new, I waited two weeks to see if it would go away, and when it did not, I got an x-ray.

If I am very irritated with everyone, I eat a food. When I have a headache that will not go away, I eat a food and drink some water. When I cannot focus my eyes properly, I go to sleep. Like I said, I have a rule-set for when bodily signals require action on my part.

The notion that random fluctuations in signals from this mildly-electrified container of moist clinging conglomerate adhered to a living frame might indicate important changes in my mental-relational state offends me. It offends me. I mean, a human body is like a mobile coral reef. Does a coral reef feel grief? Joy? I mean, maybe, I don't know, but my point is, people just correlate shit. What a fucked-up system. Who fucking designed this bullshit?

Anyway, I refuse to participate in this buffoonery. Unless and until someone can show me a reliable correlation between the manifestations of endocrine system fluctuations and specific, SPECIFIC, emotional states, I opt out. None of this tea-leaf-reading "oooooh, your skin is flushed, you must be angry!" bullshit, when flushing is merely a rush of blood to the surface of one's skin and can result from temperature, exertion, a number of medical conditions, not to mention any number of emotions such as shame, arousal, excitement, grief, etc.

It is rank buffoonery.

If any of you have an actual, functional, reliable key to this whole "physical sensations indicate emotions" theory, let me know.

Until then, I opt out.

[ultrahpfan5blog]

The Flash - a fun but very messy movie...

This film has had a comically long path to release. I remember that The Flash movie was announced shortly after the The Flash tv show had launched in 2014. Its pretty hilarious that The Flash show run ended a month ago after 9 seasons and 180+ episodes, and the movie has only just released. Gives an idea to the amount of issues in the DCEU and for this movie. With all the controversy surrounding Ezra Miller, as well as the extraordinary reactions by the film, calling it one of the greatest superhero films of all time, I was curious to see this. Having seen it, the film's reactions were clearly spin on behalf of DC and WB to mitigate the damage from the Ezra Miller debacle. Judging by the BO reports, it didn't work. And frankly, the film isn't anywhere in the vicinity of the top superhero films. Its not even in my top 5 DCEU movies, let alone DC movies and superhero movies in general. What it is, is a pretty funny movie, with some good performances, but a very messy execution.

The film feels very frantic, a bit like the main character. There is a lot crammed into this movie. It can get a little confusing, the way they talk about time travel and multiverse at rapid pace. As a big comic book fan, I was able to keep up, but I have to believe that a layman might just get lost in the process. I do like the concept of the chronobowl and I like that the film has a new way of explaining the multiverse. The movie's biggest plus is that the humor genuinely works. This is a generally pretty funny movie. There are a lot of laughs spread out throughout the movie. And credit to where its due, Ezra Miller is actually quite good in this film. Its a very Ezra Miller performance. All of his nervous ticks are there, but he is playing opposite himself for a vast majority of the film and he's actually quite good in both roles. The older version is actually a more toned down version of Barry that we saw in JL/ZSJL. The younger version is initially very annoying but that is sort of the point, but Miller does a good job of bringing out the innate goodness of the character. There are definitely some cool moments of action, a lot of them coming from Keaton's Batman. It is fun to watch that version of Batman kick some serious ass. Supergirl is also quite badass, if a bit underdeveloped. The visuals of Flash running, with the lightning, is pretty neat. The movie also manages to deliver a Flash origin story without needing to do an origin story. There are also a few emotional moments towards the end of the movie that really click. There is one scene in particular between Barry and his mother, which is quite emotional.

However, like I mentioned, the film is very messy. The VFX work on a lot of the movie is very substandard. I don't really care for the explanation that Muschietti gave. It sounds like a lame excuse, but if it was a choice, it was a bad choice, because it took me out of the scene quite a bit. The film also isn't focused. The emotional core of the film is Barry and him dealing with the tragedy of his past, but the film doesn't focus on it enough. As a result, the film never has the emotional punch that it should. As someone who watched 9 seasons of The Flash tv show, that was one aspect that they actually nailed. There are moments like that, such as when older Barry vents his frustration on younger Barry about how he takes things for granted, or the above mentioned scene with Barry and his mother. There just isn't enough of it though. The film does feel more interested in handing out nostalgia. While it is great to see Keaton's Batman, he doesn't really serve a purpose outside of being an element of nostalgia. They kind of do a surface level bonding of Bruce bonding with Barry over the loss of his parents, but they never dig into it. Keaton's appearance is just there to delight fans, so we get to see the Batmobile, the OG style suit, the Batwing etc... without adding up to anything specific. They also made him fairly pointless in the final fight because he isn't really able to do anything. Additionally, despite being 70+, his Batman is treated as if he is still at his prime, which felt like a missed opportunity. Supergirl also is an underdeveloped character. It feels like an interest arc is basically snipped into a few scenes for her. It is also difficult to buy her adjusting to her powers so fast, when we saw how difficult it was for Zod. Also, the film kind of brushes over the explanation as to why Zod wants Kara. When it comes to Barry, it does have that very emotional climax with the two Barry's and the old Barry, and then Barry changing the past to let his mother die, but then it also undoes the lesson a bit by changing the history enough to his father goes free, despite the explanation of every change leading to a different timeline.

The film does feel like its coming apart in the climax. The film throws a bunch of cameos at the screen, none of it really works. It got me wondering about who this film is targeted at. The core audience group for CBM movies is under 30, but the cameos in this movie, like Christopher Reeve and Helen Slater, Nic Cage as Superman, George Clooney as Batman, and even Keaton as Batman, are things that only people well over 30 would really recognize and have nostalgia for. Keaton Batman movies are over 30 years old, and even Clooney's Batman movie is 26 years old. I felt that lack of recognition and a general WTF feeling in my audience. I am one of those who is a true CBM follower, so I recognized the call backs but I can't say that most did. I did grin at the Clooney cameo but that one felt like it was almost a joke from the makers, that they know there won't be another movie in this continuity.

The performances are solid. Whatever you may think of Ezra Miller or his version of the character, he delivers a good performance of his version of Barry Allen. Keaton is clearly having a blast on his return and he does go above and beyond what the role would have required. Despite a shortchanged role, Sasha Calle makes an impression. Ben Affleck has one excellent scene which again brings up regrets as to how he was never properly used. It was nice to see Jeremy Irons briefly back again as Alfred, again a case of great casting that got wasted. It may be our last looks at Affleck, Gadot, Miller, and Irons in these roles. Not sure whether Affleck and Gadot have guest appearances in Aquaman 2. Ron Livingston and Maribel Verdu are appealing as Barry's parents. Shannon pops up in the climax as Zod. Doesn't really have enough of a role to make an impression. I think Andy Muschietti does a decent job directing the film. I do film the film needed to either prune some subplots, like the Zod and Kara angle, or it needed to be longer so it could deepen the Barry storyline and give Keaton's Batman more purpose apart from just being there for nostalgia bait. All in all, enjoyable, but overhyped and definitely quite flawed. A 6.5/10.

[ryotaiku]

Short thoughts on every Final Fantasy game

FF1

This game rules. I've played roughly four RPGs of its era (Dragon Quest, Phantasy Star, Wizardry) and FF1 is definitely my favorite. Way more of FF is established in this game than most people think, and it's cool seeing where it all started. Its only real annoyance is the grind, which is decently mitigated if you play any version after the PS1 port.

I didn't know this until recently but the PS1 port has a completely optional Easy mode that adjusts EXP gain & shop prices, and every subsequent re-release is based on that easy mode. With this knowledge I'd recommend the PS1 port on Normal for authenticity, but if you hate spell slots I'd recommend the PSP port.

FF2

Awful. Its one and only good quality is the tone & progression path, but everything else is bad. There's a keyword system where you gotta record words from NPCs and say them at other NPCs to move forward, which turns the game into say everything to everyone; often NPCs on the other side of the world. You level individual skills Elder Scrolls style instead of having character levels, which is neat in theory, but you also need to level your health and spells by deliberately getting hurt and casting spells over & over. You can't just let them level naturally, you gotta do it with purpose. Virtually every dungeon in the game has rooms that are just empty dead ends with bullshit encounter rates. It's terrible. FF2 is one of the most miserable RPGs I've ever played.

I don't recommend any version, but the PSP port is supposedly the best one.

FF3

It's decent. It's the first entry to use the Job system, though it gets really gimmicky. Sometimes it makes sense; like a dungeon where you gotta go Mini, which kills your physical strength, so you gotta make everyone a mage to do real damage. Other times it's really forced & boring, like a boss that just doesn't take damage from anything other than a Dragoon jump. The worst part of the game is arguably the final dungeon, which is arbitrarily long with no save points, and a final boss that just does repeated mega-damage with no strategy beyond just healing through it. The beginning is pretty sluggish too, but it's sandwiching a really solid middle.

The best version of FF3 is your choice between the pixel remaster or the 3D remake. I only ever played the latter, but if I were to replay FF3 I'd probably prefer the former. The 3D remake has some weird rebalance quirks due to being made with DS hardware in mind, which didn't annoy me in 2017 but would probably annoy me now.

FF4

Excellent entry. This is commonly touted as the best starting point for newcomers, in part due to its main "gimmick" of ATB becoming a mainstay for the rest of the series. There's no character customization, instead utilizing a rotating cast as you progress, as well as a little bit of gear variety. It's arguably the "purest" game in the series lacking any major gimmick, and ironically it's one of the best entries because of it.

The best versions of FF4 are the the PSP port and the 3D remake. FF4 ports haven't made a lot of major gameplay changes until the pixel remaster, so the PSP has remained mostly authentic. The 3D remake is almost its own game and can be played separately from the 2D variants, but it's also a lot harder; even after the Steam port reduced the difficulty from its initial DS release. It's arguably the hardest game of the series.

FF5

This is the best one. It brings back FF3's job system and refines it into a clear cut diamond, making one of the most in-depth and replayable games of not just the series, but RPGs as a whole. There are so many potential ways to beat the game that you could potentially play it forever. The endgame gets really grindy & frustrating, but it's worth it.

I'm torn between the GBA port or the Pixel Remaster being the best versions. The GBA port has some bonus content that's actually pretty good (a rarity for JRPGs), but the Pixel Remaster lets you adjust EXP & money gain which really helps out in the endgame grind. I'm gonna say Pixel Remaster, but I might change my mind after writing this.

FF6

Meh. This is a lot of people's favorite, and it's arguably the best written, but man I really don't like the Esper system. My first time through I really loved the first act, controlling all these characters with unique classes & abilities, but unlocking the Esper system & drowning out all their unique skills with overpowered spells killed it for me. Even worse is needing to juggle Espers around as characters level up so they get the ideal stat boosts, and now when I play the beginning all I can think about is every level gained before Clock Town being a potential waste. It's good your first time, but subsequent playthroughs feel noticeably worse.

I don't like FF6 enough to really say what the best version is, but from what I've observed fans are torn between the SNES original, the GBA port, and the Pixel Remaster. People swear by Ted Woolsey's original FF6 translation, but the GBA has some bonus content, and the Pixel Remaster has an enhanced opera scene. Take your pick.

FF7

It doesn't have Espers. 7777/10 … Okay in all seriousness FF7 actually does improve on what bugged me about FF6. Materia is basically Espers reversed, leveling independently instead of teaching the spell to the character it's equipped on. They're also fungible, so you can buy multiples of the same Materia to make duplicate casters. It's a much better system, and it's a great game. There's a reason this is the most popular entry of the series.

The best version is the PS1 original, since the PC port (which all subsequent ports are based on) has a variable framerate that gets in the way of the controls in a lot of places. Just be sure to use a translation romhack since the PS1 text borders on misinformation in places.

FF8

This one is... confusing. The spell system is pretty cool, but it seemingly discourages spellcasting since they boost your stats, and everyone's highest stat is strength which discourages it further. This has the potential to be the most in-depth game of the series, but it's also watered down by level scaling so you never really feel like you're getting stronger. When people say FF games are confusing, this is the game they're thinking of.

The PS1 original is considered the best way to play, for the same reasons as FF7. I don't know if there's a retranslation around and I'm not sure if I care enough.

FF9

This is a good game, and it's so tantalizingly close to being a great game, but it's got stuff that bugs me. I'm not a fan of the overworld, the party splitting can get kind of annoying, and the ATB system here is arguably the worst the series has ever been. But if those issues were addressed it'd be one of the best entries of the series.

The port quirks of 7&8 are ever-present here, and as such the PS1 original is the way to go. But I will say the PC port gives you mouse control on menus, which is deceptively rare for JRPGs on PC.

FF10

This was my second ever FF game, and it kinda messed with my perception of the whole series until I played FF7. Not in a bad way, but more in a this must be what the whole series is like way; which it's really not. As a game though, it's got ups & downs. The sphere grid is a fascinating approach to progression that makes me question what an RPG really is, and every party member being a hybrid class (except Tidus & Lulu) is especially interesting. But good gods the endgame is one of the biggest grind-fests of the whole series; far more than FFV was. I cannot stress enough how bad it is, and Yojimbo doesn't help. People complain about its forward level design, but honestly the moment it becomes open world is when it starts to lose me. It's a good game, but not one I ever want to play again.

Play the PS2 original, and do not play the International release. The bosses it adds are not only bad, they're intrusive.

FF11

It's pretty well known that FFXI is an MMO that predates the WoW renaissance of MMO accessibility. What's lesser known is FFXI existed in defiance of what WoW established for MMOs going forward, with many of its worst traits happening concurrently with the Lich King era. But I cannot stress enough that I have never played an RPG with the same layered & intricate character building as FFXI. Excluding equipment loadouts, there are 70 universally viable class makeups out of 462, and including equipment there's far too many to count manually. This is a play it forever game not in replay value, but in virtually endless content… if you can look past its early MMO crust but I swear it's better now.

Retail FFXI is still going strong. Despite some dooming about Square seemingly no longer caring about their Western audience, the game is still getting content updates and people are still playing it. Personally though I've been playing a private server called CatsEyeXI, which aims to roll all of the lv99 content down to lv75. I don't have any opinions on an FFXI "golden era," but I do like not having to pay a subscription.

FF12

I really don't like Real-Time w/ Pause, and FF12 encompases both of its worst traits. RTwP is either automated to the point where you're not playing, or it's a micromanagement hellscape. But FF12 manages to be both at the same time, expecting you to micromanage the hell out of your party members just so you don't have to play as them. I really didn't enjoy it, and no amount of bunny girls made me want to stick around.

I didn't play the original FF12, but supposedly Zodiac Age is the preferred version since the original game used a shittier sphere grid.

FF13

I… don't hate it. I played enough to get past the initial corridor, and yeah that part isn't great, but the levels do open up a bit, and I can see the potential for the combat getting less auto-play. A lot of people say this one "gets better later," and for once in my life I actually believe them.

I think the best way to play this would be the Xbox 360 release, which is backwards compatible on Xbox One/Series, but the PC port with some visual patches is serviceable too. It runs better now than it did at launch.

FF14

Yes, I have played the critically acclaimed Final Fantasy XIV with a free trial that includes all of A Realm Reborn & Heavensward & Stormblood. I started playing in Stormblood, and yeah it's a pretty solid MMO. I've slowed down tremendously during Endwalker since I've done pretty much everything I care about, and it's starting to do the MMO thing where new updates get really formulaic & predictable. But what I've heard about Dawntrail makes me optimistic it'll get better again.

Available on PC, PS5, and most recently Xbox Series

FF15

Man, this game is… rough. I like modern fantasy, which is deceptively rare in RPGs, and I love the DLC. Even if you don't like the main game you should play the DLC. But everything else is just bad. The combat (in main-game) is essentially auto-battle, where you can get away with just holding the dodge button until your party combos & god powers charge up. There's no way to get money naturally, instead making you do beast hunting quests which you need to rank up in to get anything good. The open world is both empty and linear, filled with sheer cliffs & impenetrable shrubbery & invisible walls to the point that it might as well not be open at all. Your fucking spells are consumable and have splash damage against your party members. This game is good until it's not, and it stops hard when it does.

Play the Royal Edition if you must, but not the Windows edition. It's got memory leak issues on Windows.

FF16

I don't have a PS5 so I haven't played it yet. When it comes to PC I'll talk about it.

[dots3a]

Something to try to hold in my hands is that my symptoms are symptoms of something very treatable but also very damaging. As it goes on the damage gets worse and you can't really treat the damage, you can treat the fact that it is happening and mitigate it if not stop it. But what damage is done cannot be reversed so you have to "catch it early" as it were.

They, my symptoms, have been present and observable since I was a child. But my parents were abusive. The people around them assumed abuse looked a very specific way so they did not react to the abuse, they didn't understand it was abuse. All of my siblings suffered, too. Not all of them have the disability I am talking about or the other congenital issues I have. But they all suffered because no one around us understood abuse and everyone around us was too polite to intervene. Don't be polite. If you have a choice between being polite or anything else, choose the anything else. Help victims. Be rude. Be judged. Be that bitch. Please. Just one person being rude could have saved us, you have no idea the things they've done to themselves to try to cope. You have no idea the things they have had to become in order to be at all because no one would be impolite. We were children. Children. How can it be common knowledge that a family is neglecting their kids and nothing is done? No one intervenes?

By the time I could articulate, the thing wrong with me affected the way I articulated. It affected how I understood what I was being told.

When I tried to say "I don't think this is okay, this thing that is happening to me." People did not understand that I was being very direct and straightforward. They thought I was talking about things they go through. I do go through those things, too, but that is not what I was talking about. I tried to explain but they thought I was talking down to them about every day things that everyone knows, and that was very insulting. People thought I was blowing things that they also went through out of proportion because my reaction to abuse was read as my reaction to normal every day things.

I never even got to have a reaction to the normal every day things. I felt very ashamed. I felt very alone. I expect everyone I interact with to be mean to me. I live my life afraid and in a great deal of increasing pain. I can't even go outside any more, and do the little things that I tried to do to make life beautiful. Because to me it was still beautiful. Through all of that I could see beauty and I thought to share it with those around me. But they left. Even as I tell you the wrongs that were done to me, understand I try my best to show empathy for the people who did not react for the abusers, for the people who robbed me of my mid-age, their children of their mother, the world of me. Each person is a gift. To the world. Even me. Even I was a gift. Even you are. Even they were.

Anyway. Now I'm dying, I tried really hard to give and receive love this whole time and I understand but there's no one left to show my work to, and I would just like to say, meekly, to the void of record, that it hurts. And I know it didn't have to. I empathize, but I will not back down from this point: you could have done better. It's because I love so much that I know you could have.

I am mad, but in a way you would only understand as disappointment, because you have lost understanding of what feeling means. Anger to you is always a sword. Is never a mother who finally understands there's nothing left to be done and quietly walking away, weeping. My anguish is for you, there's no me left in this equation.

[rain-candles-jazz]

Mitigating Damages Chapter 3.5 tw: beating, blood, vomit, broken bones

“Beat him until he can no longer stand…but make sure not to kill him. When you are through, put him on his horse and charge it through the main street, then send it through the desert.” He looked down sadistically at Mizzah. “He’ll make a great present for my friend, King Maverick.” With that, he turned, flicking his hand once more, and left the room.

The guards closed in on him quickly, and Mizzah was only able to murmur out a quiet, "Wait-" before another kick to the side sent him rolling back to lying flat out on his chest. He vaguely heard chatter among the guards, but having not fully regained his breath from before, he was unable to attempt a bargain of any sort. Regardless, and despite his pain, he was angry and determined to retain his dignity through this ordeal.

However, just as Mizzah began to attempt to get back upright, a boot stomped hard into his left hand, the heel grinding down. The scream escaped him in spite of his most recent thought, silenced only by another set of boots kicking him square in his open mouth.

Mizzah remained frozen on his side for a moment, his mind a haze of pain. His hand was freed, and he slowly brought it up to his eyesight, noting the twisted appearance of his thumb and palm. He attempted to breathe in but instantly choked. Adrenaline kicking in in earnest, Mizzah managed to scramble up, partially using a nearby pair of legs as support. Now at least upright, he began to cough, blood flying out of his mouth. Once he could breathe again, Mizzah panted, tasting the blood and gagging.

"Oh yuck!" he heard a voice say before the guard he had used to wright himself bent down and picked him up to his knees by the nape of his now-disheveled traveling coat. Mizzah's eyes were wide as he stared face to face with a gruff man with a chiseled, worn face. Mizzah silently begged for mercy. The man promptly reared a fist back and hit Mizzah's face like a punching bag - once, twice, and at the third punch, Mizzah slid out of his coat to the floor.

His mind a haze of pain, Mizzah absentmindedly spat out a few teeth. He tried to reach for his face, but his injured left hand was unable to feel anything. His right hand clamped over his injured nose, his painful eye… was that wetness blood or tears? He held his eye, attempting to calm the pain there for just a moment - or at least protect it even a little.

Again, he could just make out voices from beyond the fog the injuries had caused his mind. "Hey, don't hog all the fun!" A kick to the stomach followed. "Why not? As long as we don't kill him!" Another kick to the stomach. This was too much. Against his will, his body revolted, sending him retching. He just managed to prop himself up on his uninjured arm before vomiting a mix of the small amount of food he'd had that morning, blood, and yellow bile. The guards backed up from him momentarily before one managed to grab his leg and pull him backward out of the pile. Mizzah's throat burned fiercely as he watched the floor receding in front of him.

Mizzah coughed again, his voice mingling with his breathing. He rolled onto his side, holding his stomach with both arms and folding in on himself. For a brief moment, he remembered the castle just the day before, and how confident he'd been that he could make a difference. Through the one eye he could see out of, Mizzah noticed how bloody and filthy he'd gotten the floor beneath him, just before another hard kick to his exposed back sent him flailing: back arching; legs, arms, and hands curling in like a dying spider.

"I don't mind you all having a bit of fun, but his Majesty specifically requested that he be unable to stand," a serious voice…

"Oh, yeah! Good point, guys we better see how he's doing!" a younger, more jovial tone.

As he finally began to be able to relax again, Mizzah felt himself being roughly gripped around his arms and pulled upright by his shoulders and shirt. He was placed on his feet, and though he stumbled forward a bit, dazed as he was, he actually managed to stay swaying, but standing.

A disapproving sound was heard, and Mizzah was punched in the side of the head, falling hard onto the ground once more.

"There's an easy way to manage the standing part," the voice seemed very muffled and far away, as though the speaker had been behind a wall. Additional murmurs followed at a similar volume.

Mizzah again felt himself manipulated to lie flat on his back, arms outstretched. In the soup that was becoming his mind, Mizzah recognized this as a position of vulnerability, but before he could do anything about it, guards positioned themselves on top of his arms and hands, standing on both as though he were a board to be held for sawing. The one foot that pressed down on his already injured hand caused him to moan and squirm.

A strange silence came over the guards then, and Mizzah felt an odd sensation around his right leg. A prickle of a blade slicing up his shin, a loosening, a feeling of fresh air… they were removing his travel boot. "Please-" he finally managed to croak out in the stillness that followed, barely able to see anything, but feeling that all the guards still surrounded him. "Pl-aaah-" he inhaled as sharply as his injured lungs would allow as a sharp pain exploded in his right shin, followed by a similar feeling lower, in his ankle and foot.

He breathed in, and in, before finally screaming, finally, loudly, unabashedly. The sound echoed off the high ceiling and reverberated back to Mizzah's damaged ears. He breathed in deeply, over and over, each breath out signaled by a smaller scream, a cry.

Once more, he was lifted up, head hanging limply - blood, tears, and bile dripping uncontrolled from every opening in his face, every bit of his dignity and anger drained from him. This time, when placed on his feet, his right leg cracked audibly beneath him. Pain re-erupted in his leg, and his body, unable to hold its own weight, fell limply to the ground, collapsing in a twisted, bloody heap.

"Mission accomplished!" "Does that mean we're done?" "Do you think its good enough?" A snort. "Good enough for a Grant messenger? Hardly. As long as he's not dead when we're done…"

Mizzah moaned pathetically, the sound escaping his lips without knowing: an animalistic sound of a dying being. Another kick to the head, and Mizzah's eyes glazed over, tears falling from his swollen cheeks, blood pooling under his mouth.

The guards took turns kicking his limp form until they got bored.