#or mitigate damage at the very least

[doctorcanon]

I think the thing that sucks the most about the current state of the left is that while we are the most educated and resource rich, a lot of us are just sitting around waiting for someone to save us. For the perfect thing to tip the scales in our favor.

Some tough love: we do not have the luxury of despair. If you wanna be an activist, you need to do more than donate. You need to do more than scream really loud and hope someone cares enough to change their minds. Appealing to your opponents humanity isn't working because they don't think you're human. Stop punctuating every political statement with "do you know how bad this is????" Everyone knows. Everyone can feel it intrinsically in their everyday lives.

Your step one should be to get involved in your community. Volunteer your time, especially with food pantries and night shelters. Even book drives. The more you talk to people in and off the internet, the more organized we can be. Conservatives aren't idiots, clearly every move they've made has been a calculated and coordinated effort. Meanwhile we're fussing over which memes are too mean. Do what you can but I know several of you who can do more than doomscroll.

[bravewolfvesperia]

Oh, dear. He's gone and found himself an apron now, too, and a chef's hat, just to make it all feel more... OFFICIAL. " Starting now... " He tells Yuri, excitement practically oozing from his tone as he shuffled about the kitchen area, pulling out items and ingredients that most certainly did not go together in a dish, " ... I will see to all of your meals! I understand we are both busy with our separate affairs, but this is the least I can do after everything that's happened. I'll even take requests, so go ahead! Give me some ideas, Yuri; maybe even your favorite dish of all time? "

Somehow, there's already a random fire in the bowl of water he'd set aside, and something that looks akin to roadkill on the counter beside it. Still, that smile is ever bright, and were he to glow anymore radiantly, the good townsfolk may mistake HIM for the sun itself. // I'm so sorry, I had to. He just... wants to do SO much for Yuri, even if he doesn't realize he's causing him more trouble. XD

@tenebriism

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.

There is so much going on here. There is a happy Flynn, a Flynn that wants to cook all his meals, he's taking suggestions but has already started something, that something is on fire - wait, he has water on fire?!, and Yuri knows he has made a mistake that he can never take back because he will not tell Flynn to stop.

Okay okay okay he can... salvage this. Somewhat. Remotely. Mildly. Possibly. If he's lucky. Which he's usually not.

What does Flynn like, what does Flynn like...

Pork miso soup. Got it.

"Well first of all, since you're cooking, why don't we focus on something you like? Second, therefore, I'm saying pork miso soup. If you want something I like, we'll make mabo curry next time." Yes - we. He cannot be left alone like this.

"Third..." Yuri carefully grabs the bowl of fire-water and dumps it into the sink. "We need a free bowl, not one that's on fire." And... oh god, what are some of these garnishes? Did he just pick at random?! Without even having a plan on what to make?! What was he going to do, just throw something together and hope it worked out?!

Okay okay okay... Deep breaths. He's gonna do this and Flynn is gonna stay happy.

"Fourth! After everything that's happened, it's better to spend time with me, right? Instead of cooking on your own? Without my help? Right? Great, because I want to spend time with you too." He feels bad saying it right now like this because it is one hundred percent to curb disaster, but at least it's... true? Like, it is true, it's just... not the situation he would have preferred to say it in!

So the first thing he does is sort through the seasonings until all that's left will match how the pork miso soup should end up tasting. If Flynn is still hiding something in that apron pocket, Yuri has decided he cannot possibly be responsible for it going that far.

They should probably have rice with the soup too... Flynn... Flynn can do that, right? He can make rice at least, right...? "Can you... get the rice? And work on cooking that? Then cut the pork thin when you're done? I'll get the vegetables." He is very resolute that he is getting the vegetables that will be going into this food. That way, even if Flynn cooks the vegetables into the soup, he can't decide on something wholly unfitting in the first place.

"You want the food to be really good, right? So wouldn't it be even better if we both made it?" God he feels so bad manipulating the situation like this, but god, his ways are limited...

So, what, he makes his food with love, so he said to everyone else once... and now he makes food with Flynn? So, what, he makes his food with love and Fly-- He's going to stop thinking about this now!

"That's my idea, Flynn. We make it together and start with one of your favorites today and worry about mine another day. You still get to cook, you get to do it with me, and then we'll have everyone eat it later." Damn. He really needs to stop subjected everyone else to it. But... the more people that eat it, the happier Flynn will be, right...?

Right. He's doing this for Flynn's happiness and everyone's survival. After all, Flynn is always so busy now as commandant... Yuri can't just... take away one of the few things... he gets to do... that makes him happy... right...? He shines even brighter when he's cooking than when he's wielding a sword... Can't... take that... away from him...

[prokopetz]

Something that pops up in my notes from time to time is folks thinking I'm being excessively kind in my criticisms of Dungeons & Dragons, and I'm going to spin this off into a separate thread to address that without putting anyone on the spot.

First, if your own critique of Dungeons & Dragons is rooted in the idea that it's the Worst Game Ever, that speaks more to the limits of your experience than it does to anything else. Dungeons & Dragons in any of its iterations is far from the worst the tabletop roleplaying hobby has to offer – like, you have no fucking idea!

Second, I tend to be even-handed in my discussion of D&D's rules because, fundamentally, the rules are not the problem – or, at least, not the principal cause of the problem.

In many ways, the indie RPG sphere has never escaped the spectre of Ron Edwards, sternly pronouncing that the mechanical process of playing traditional RPGs causes actual, physical brain damage, and that this brain damage is responsible for the bad behaviour we often observe at the table. We don't say it that way anymore, but on some level a lot of us indie RPG designers still kind of believe it.

This is understandable. As game designers, we're naturally inclined to think of problems at the table as game design problems. When we see a problematic culture of play, our impulse is to frame it as something which emerges from the text of the game, and which can therefore be mitigated by repairing the text of the game.

Confronted with the obvious toxicity of certain facets of D&D's culture of play, we go combing through its text, looking for something – some formalism, some structure, some piece of rules technology – which we can point to and say: "this is it; this is where the brain-worms live."

The trouble is, this is not in fact where the brain-worms live. Certainly, the text of a game, particularly a very popular one, can have some influence on the game's surrounding culture of play, but that text is in turn a reflection of the culture of play in which it was written. The Player's Handbook isn't an SCP object, spewing infectious infohazards everywhere when you crack open the cover – hell, I'd go so far as to say that many of the problems of D&D's culture of play operate in spite of the game's text, not because of it!

Basically, what I'm saying is that I don't see any contradiction between being the sort of pretentious knob who writes one-page indie RPGs about gay catgirls talking about their feelings (which I am), and speaking favourably about this or that piece of rules tech from whatever flavour of Dungeons & Dragons is in favour this week (which I do), because I recognise that you can't game-design your way out of a problem you didn't game-design your way into.

The fact that one of the biggest problems facing the tabletop roleplaying hobby is something that can't be repaired by fucking around with dice-rolling procedures is a bitter pill to swallow for a lot of indie game designers, and I won't say I wasn't resistant to it myself, but it's something that's both useful and necessary to accept.

(None of this means that the text of Dungeons & Dragons in any of its incarnations is beyond criticism on other grounds, of course, and I've never been shy about highlighting those criticisms where they're warranted. The only way you're gonna arrive at the conclusion that I'm some sort of D&D apologist is if you're starting from the presumption that The Real Problem Is The Rules.)

[death-rebirth-senshi]

Society if Aqua got a more fully fleshed out moveset in kh3...

[knitmeapony]

In the law, there's this idea called the "last clear chance" doctrine.

If you are in an accident, and you had the last clear chance to avoid the accident, then you are, at least in some portion, responsible for the accident.

For instance, if you are driving and a car pulls out in front of you, and you could've slammed on the brake but do not, you're responsible for that, even if the turn the other car made was illegal. Moreover, you might be held partially responsible for the other person's injuries, depending on how things work in your location.

This is even true if you can merely mitigate the damage. If you have a chance to limit the damage -- again, let's say you don't brake and the result is a collision at 40MPH instead of 10MPH -- the additional damage you cause could be considered your fault.

To me, this seems very applicable to voting.

The two parties in the US are going to put a couple of candidates up in the next few months. Both of them might be dangerous. But in the end, everyone who can vote is going to have one last, clear chance to avoid, or at least mitigate, damage.

It sucks that both parties are out there driving like maniacs.

But the fact of the matter is, they've put us in this position. And if you don't put on the brakes -- that is, at least mitigate damage -- you are responsible for the additional damage caused.

In the national elections, a choice not to vote for Biden is a choice not to brake when some jerk pulls into your lane. And if there's an accident and a lot of damage -- to voting rights in general, to reproductive rights, to the health and safety and life of trans and other queer people, to education, to the environment -- then you are responsible for not attempting mitigation.

You have the last clear chance to minimize danger and damage. And while you can yell until you're blue in the face that the Democratic party put you in that position in the first place by not running another candidate, you are still responsible even if you try to abdicate that responsibility.

[bougiebutchbinch]

Intersectionality, disability, and being 'one of the good ones'

I am 'one of the good ones'.

I have been told this, verbatim, by various healthcare professionals.

This is because I have a severe manifestation of my disease - worse than 90% of what my specialist sees - but to their eyes, unlike most in the same bracket, I am driven to maintain as much mobility as possible.

I do the work I need to in order to remain able to work, even at a greatly reduced capacity (even if this constant effort towards condition management means making lots of sacrifices in my social and personal life). This makes me a 'good disabled person'.

This entire concept is fascinating to me - not least for the conflation of 'good' and 'has worth within a capitalist society'. It's also hugely damaging to other disabled people.

First off: I'm privileged in that one of my diseases at least, CAN have symptoms mitigated by medication, (ridiculous amounts of) physio, and surgery, even if it is still degenerative and the overall problem remains. A lot of folks have diseases that, whether due to the intractable processes involved, or medical neglect and lack of research, have no treatment whatsoever.

I'm privileged because I genuinely love my job. There are problems, don't get me wrong, but it's on its way to being a decent-paying, well-respected career that I can do from a wheelchair. People who work my job are typically treated well by society. There are strong protections in place to defend my rights as a disabled person, and though managers absolutely try to cut corners, those legal protections are still there. I find fulfilment in this work, to the point I would still do it in a perfect post-capitalist society without monetary gain. Although many people are ableist to me on a day-to-day basis, on the whole, people in this sector are somewhat educated about patient rights and disability advocation.

Why would I have any motivation to maintain my ability to work, if I was paid a poverty wage and treated like dirt for what I did for a living, on top of facing structural and interpersonal ableism?

I'm privileged because I have a loving family who help me with ADLs. While we still have our issues, they never make me feel 'lesser' for being disabled. While we used to be working class, we got very lucky and now live a comfortable middle class life, which means I have a stable home in a country with universal healthcare, that I am not in immediate danger of losing. We live together, so I receive care from them, and we get along excellently. They support me, and help me to achieve my goals.

How could I do the ridiculous amounts of extra physio and symptom management work I need to do if I didn't have people who were happy to help me cook, clean, and care for myself? How could I keep track of my medication and doctors appointments if I didn't have people who understand my memory problems and help me? How could I have the energy to work on controlling my condition - as much as it can be controlled - if I was constantly worrying about making rent or where my next meal was going to come from?

And finally, my mental health is in a genuinely good place! I do suffer from some long-term mental health problems, but they're managed and treatable, and I haven't had a severe episode in years.

How could I focus on looking after my body if my mind was constantly under attack from itself?

It's like... yeah, I've worked extremely hard to get where I am, and achieved rare results. I'm glad that's acknowledged by my healthcare team. But every day I am reminded that I would never have made it this far, had circumstances been different. That people across the world put in the exact same effort as me, and receive none of the results or the praise.

Caling me 'one of the good ones' isn't a compliment. It's a backhanded put-down to other, more vulnerable members of the disabled community. I think those of us who are classed as 'The Virtuous And Hardworking Disabled' do need to be conscientious of this. We should challenge this attitude where we can, even if we have diseases or manifestations that may be classed as 'more severe' than others.

[gods-little-fool]

It has been SO long since I've done CotL art, and might I say, I forgot how much I love drawing my favorite worm! I've even messed around with his design and I'm loving it!

The context of these basically boils down to the Leshylamb au idea I have where Leshy is very much not down for the whole "kill and entire species" plan his siblings have, even setting aside that the sheep in this au are a large faction of his people and he may or may not have some blossoming feelings for a certain one (╹ڡ╹ )

I've always hc'd that the bishops all represent dualities, ya know, like famine and bounty, pestilence and cure, war and peace, and chaos and order. Now, Leshy isn't the god of fate or anything like that, but his domain is definitely tied to it with how fate and prophesy are kinda the most orderly something can be. A predetermined outcome.

Leshy tries, but he can't sway his siblings to spare the sheep and to not make their inevitable demise worse, so he instead begins plotting on a way to at least mitigate the damage. What? All the sheep have fled the towns on the edge of Darkwood? How could he have known? He's been VERY busy bolstering his following in preparation for the loss of them. I think his only act of true outward defiance of their plan would be to openly not have his people join in hunting the sheep, the rest of his and his followers' actions would be much more underhanded with lots of plausible deniability.

I dunno, just a thought. I'm not great at building stories :P Still gonna fiddle with the idea tho, maybe I'll try drafting little story snippets?

[sirfrogsworth]

Falling into the AI vortex.

Before I deeply criticize something, I try to understand it more than surface level.

With guns, I went into deep research mode and learned as much as I could about the actual guns so I could be more effective in my gun control advocacy.

I learned things like... silencers are not silent. They are mainly for hearing protection and not assassinations. It's actually small caliber subsonic ammo that is a concern for covert shooting. A suppressor can aid with that goal, but its benefits as hearing protection outweigh that very rare circumstance.

AR15s... not that powerful. They use a tiny bullet. Originally it could not even be used against thick animal hides. It was classified as a "varmint hunting" gun. There are other factors that make it more dangerous like lightweight ammo, magazine capacity, medium range accuracy, and being able to penetrate things because the tiny bullets go faster. But in most mass shooting situations where the shooting distance is less than 20 feet, they really aren't more effective than a handgun. They are just popular for that purpose. Dare I say... a mass shooting fad or cliche. But there are several handguns that could be more powerful and deadly—capable of one bullet kills if shot anywhere near the chest. And easier to conceal and operate in close quarters like a school hallway.

This deeper understanding tells me that banning one type of gun may not be the solution people are hoping for. And that if you don't approach gun control holistically (all guns vs one gun), you may only get marginal benefits from great effort and resources.

Now I'm starting the same process with AI tools.

Everyone is stuck in "AI is bad" mode. And I understand why. But I worry there is nuance we are missing with this reactionary approach. Plus, "AI is bad" isn't a solution to the problem. It may be bad, but it is here and we need to figure out realistic approaches to mitigate the damage.

So I have been using AI tools. I am trying to understand how they work, what they are good for, and what problems we should be most worried about.

I've been at this for nearly a month and this may not be what everyone wants to hear, but I have had some surprising interactions with AI. Good interactions. Helpful interactions. I was even able to use it to help me keep from an anxiety thought spiral. It was genuinely therapeutic. And I am still processing that experience and am not sure what to say about it yet.

If I am able to write an essay on my findings and thoughts, I hope people will understand why I went into the belly of the beast. I hope they won't see me as an AI traitor.

A big part of my motivation to do this was because of a friend of mine. He was hit by a drunk driver many years ago. He is a quadriplegic. He has limited use of his arms and hands and his head movement is constrained.

When people say, "just pick up a pencil and learn to draw" I always cringe at his expense. He was an artist. He already learned how to pick up a pencil and draw. That was taken away from him. (And please don't say he can stick a pencil in his mouth. Some quads have that ability—he does not. It is not a thing all of them can do.) But now he has a tool that allows him to be creative again. And it has noticeably changed his life. It is a kind of art therapy that has had massive positive effects on his depression.

We have had a couple of tense arguments about the ethics of AI. He is all-in because of his circumstances. And it is difficult to express my opinions when faced with that. But he asked and I answered. He tried to defend it and did a poor job. Which, considering how smart he is, was hard to watch.

But I love my friend and I feel I'd like to at least know what I'm talking about. I want to try and experience the benefits he is seeing. And I'd like to see if there is a way for this technology to exist where it doesn't hurt more than it helps.

I don't know when I will be done with my experiment. My health is improving but I am still struggling and I will need to cut my dose again soon. But for now I am just collecting information and learning.

I guess I just wanted to prepare people for what I'm doing.

And ask they keep an open mind with my findings. Not all of them will be "AI is bad."

[momochanners]

After a good night's sleep, I think I can better solidify my thoughts in regards to the Dragon Age trailer.

First, let's start with the positives:

- Companion diversity: This has always been part of the series' DNA that has been clearly depicted with every iteration, so those who cry foul over "Asian & Black elves", prosthethics, etc etc...I really don't get that, because values and sensibilities evolve over time. Even the series itself has course corrected when needed, eg. Player character creation influencing the family ethnicity of the Couslands in DA:O vs the Hawkes in DA2.

- Unlocked romances: Letting players choose whoever they want to romance regardless of their sexuality and race has always been a positive for me. Allowing everyone to enjoy the experience equally is great (and I'm sure the nuances of player race & gender will be addressed through dialogue and banter). Moreover, CRPGs are long and time-consuming, so to be locked out of character romances mid-way through is never going to be a good time (from personal experience and observing fandom in the past).

Now the negatives:

- Maybe it's me being on the older side of the Bioware fandom (15 years in Dragon Age, 20 years if you count older games like KotOR and Jade Empire), but I cringed very hard watching the trailer. If you followed the development of this game in the past decade, the cancelled live service element that was to be DA4 in one of its iterations was so all over the way the companions were introduced that it brought out a visceral reaction in me. The tonal whiplash from how foreboding Dreadwolf was presented in the past to the patronising happy quippy MEET OUR LITTLE GUYS YOU'RE SURE TO LOVE also did not help as a first concrete look of what to expect after all this time (also poor anachronistic choice of soundtrack when you already have Trevor Morris' compositions right there). I was so dismayed when they went with a looter-shooter-esque lighthearted vibe when they could've leaned hard on the foreboding established mood and momentum they've already got going with Dreadwolf. 

- The branding switch this late in the game that comes with it, especially one as drastic as this will always come with questions and ambivalence. I feel that mitigating uncertainty from announced changes (party number, combat mechanics, setting and environment, etc) should've have been prioritised to reassure existing and lapsed fans before appealing to new ones in such a jarring way.

-  I'm simply baffled at the marketing suit who signed off on whatever this is to be their "best foot forward" at reintroducing the final form of this game? If only there were confident with the world they've already built instead of relying on trendy gimmicks, the amount of damage control I'm seeing prior to the gameplay reveal tonight was so avoidable. Controlling the narrative from the get go is so very important especially now as opinions can easily snowball overnight into behemoth-like proportions especially from bad faith actors. You would think that lessons were learned from DA:O's "THIS IS THE NEW SHIT" and DA2's "Press a button, something AWESOME happens" debacles.

(The thing is, despite it being my least favourite DA out of the three, imho Inquisition has the best marketing campaign in the franchise despite the developmental troubles going on in the background. So it has been pulled off successfully before!)

- I think the Bioware layoffs, especially the recent extensive gutting of senior staff in September 2023, significantly depleted my goodwill as a fan. To see Varric being paraded as a mascot in the trailer, game promotion and supplementary media while having his creator unceremoniously let go after years of building the franchise we love left me so very cold. And it's a me problem, but seeing many other fans barely acknowledging that save for few hollow words before getting back into the fun frustrated me so much. I get being excited to finally get something solid after years of false starts, but with what was lost along the way...I personally don't feel right to approach this installment without cynicism.

Idk, I'm just a bundle of conflicted feelings over this series I guess? When it's so good, it's really good and stays with you as memorable gaming experiences that stays with you for life, but when it stumbles and fumbles the bag...it hurts to see.

[kitty-av]

Heyo! Here's my guy! Introducing himself for day 1 of the OC parade! •^•

I'll give some backstory on my guy (both the design process and lore under the cut!

This right here? My guy? I made him because I wanted a fire/candle dude.

But that's just the beginning of his journey! Allow me to show some earlier sketches just so y'all can see just how much I enjoyed designing this man. I think I've been drawing him for at least a year, though I've rarely shown him off XD

So as you can see by all these sketches, figuring out his colours actually felt really difficult, while his general silhouette got very few changes (a more unique face, he gained an arm, ect.) And I'm honestly really happy with how he currently is, even if he is very bright.

In fact he is so bright that I forgot to check my values when I drew him at 2 AM, and had to mess around in my phone to make the contrast a bit better XD

Using a saturation filter to check the values even after you've finished a piece is actually really useful (just a tip) •^•

Anyway, design history of my guy aside, Ignis had a finished design for maybe a few months (colour aside) but what he didn't have... Was lore.

Yes. For the longest time, to be he was just 'sneaky, conniving meow meow fire man' and I didn't even have a name for him - I just wanted to design a fire man but had no lore attached to him.

But since the DP OC parade? Oh lord, does he have lore. ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ

Basically, Ignis was created when the library of Alexandria was burnt down. He's not entirely sure himself if he manifested as the collective emotions surrounding the event, if he was some unfortunate guy who died there, or if he is the library himself, but when he came to, all he could remember was that one event.

Over the years, he's dedicated himself to preserving information, books, scrolls, paperwork, anything important. His enthusiasm and reliability netted him a spot in the ghost king's court as an advisor, a few rulers before Pariah.

Once Pariah took the throne, Ignis decided that he did not support anything this man did, and 'accidentally' started making poor strategies for him. And leaking a few good ones to the ghost zone resistant groups.

Once this was found out, he was promptly fired, but not before Pariah reimbursed him for his betrayal - an eye for an eye so to speak. And also an arm. He was also forced into hiding, because he was to be hunted down for treason, but he escaped.

Eventually, The ghost king's wife, Hera (might provide a pic of a sketch of her later if asked) decided to divorce Pariah. She didn't do it for the longest time because she was trying to pull legal authority and mitigate damage, but she realised that there's not much more she could do, so she straight up left to openly plan with his enemies.

Unfortunately, her role in the resistance and all the plans and insights she gave proved her a capable leader, and there was one faction that didn't want anybody to be ruling the ghost zone once Pariah fell - The Observants council.

This is relevant because while Ignis was on the run, they did their best to erase all records of all insider dissent in the court, and only give very general statements of fact about people like Ignis and Hera leaving, thus painting them as cowards at best.

Ignis was understandably quite pissed, because he knew that what they were doing is manipulating the people into essentially letting the Council rule. Even if he was technically a free ghost after the ancients sealed Pariah, the Observants basically began another reign of terror based on misinformation and censorship.

Ignis absolutely despises people in power wielding it for terrible purposes, and especially by obstructing information that to him should be available for the people to know and form conclusions off of.

Fortunately his former queen found him and she took him back to her lair with the rest of the surviving court dissenters.

And there, the group plans to if not dismantle the council, then reform it to be an actually functional governing organ with less corruption.

----

Sooo... Yeah! That's my blorbo!

Thank you all for reading through this post •^• I hope people get inspired by this event to make their own OCs, especially other artists. Because really, the last thing my guy got was his lore. So experiment! Create! Make blorbos! ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ

And if you found my guy inspiring enough to draw or write about for Sunday, I'm cool with mild gore and some psychological horror stuff, but nothing too heavy. Like, no copious amounts of ecto, no exposed insides or stuff like that. If you want to give him a mild splatter and focus on his waxed over missing eye and arm, that's chill, just keep it mild.

Honestly though, once again, I'm just glad you made it to the end, whoever you are. I would love any thoughts or feedback on my blorbo/ my guy/ my man (interchangable at this point) if y'all have any •^•

[ephemeralinstance]

the prison and urgency

One of the most pieces of new information that I appreciated the most from Veilguard was the insight that the prison holding Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain was beginning to fail, because in retrospect that makes sense of some things I had previously been quite confused by.

I was always a little puzzled by Solas giving the orb to Corypheus because it seems like an unusually bad plan (even for him!) - there were just so many variables that he couldn't control. And it seemed so unnecessary, because after all there must have been other possible sources of power to open the orb, if he'd been willing to take the time to gather supporters or find his lyrium dagger or even just wait for his own power to return. He's immortal, after all; why the hurry?

But it makes far more sense now that we know the prison holding Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain was starting to fail. So the matter was in fact extremely urgent! We've seen now the devastation that E+G wreaked after their escape - given the prospect of that disaster, it's actually pretty reasonable that Solas was panicking and that he went with a quick and crude approach, rather than taking his time. The whole thing makes much more sense to me now.

It also casts new light on his decisions with respect to Lavellan in a romance. I always assumed that it was at least a possible option for him to put his plans aside and stay with her, or shelve the plans for a while and have a few more years with her. Indeed, in his letter to Lavellan he reflects wistfully on that possibility. But although it's clear this is a fond dream of his, in reality he could not have done that, because if he had done nothing then the prison would have come down and Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain would have been released. Simply turning his back on the past and remaining as Solas forever was never really an option, no matter how much he might wish it was.

Finally, this insight gives weight to the fact that Solas changed his approach so dramatically after Inquisition: rather than going for a quick and crude approach once again, he spent ten years carefully planning a ritual and putting plans in motion to mitigate the damage, preparing spirits to help etc. Given what we now know about the urgency of the matter, that really speaks to how seriously he took what he learned in Inquisition and how deeply committed he was to reducing the damage as much as he could.

Anyway, I do really enjoy how some of these little insights in VG reflect back on past events, and this one in particular dovetails really well and rationalizes his past actions in a very satisfying way.

[megamuscle885-blog]

Worm as a MMORPG

Twelve classes split into three categories;

Defensive: Brute, Breaker, Mover, Stranger

Offensive: Striker, Shaker, Blaster, Changer

Support: Tinker, Thinker, Trump, Master

Forgive me if I misuse some terms it's like 2am and going to bed early wasn't helpful.

Brute is pretty obvious, it's a Tank who tanks with their face. Facetank. They get a high health pool or damage reduction or a natural regeneration. They most overtly take damage and make it smaller damage somehow. The same is true for how they do damage, they get ways to take small damage and make it big.

Breakers with their forms let them have at least two health pools and they usually switch between them to allow the other pool to heal, and gain abilities to mitigate damage and control the pace of the fights. I think the term is off-tank?

Movers are like a dodge tank, like matadors. They bait out the enemy's attack and then get out of the way somehow. They can semi-DPS but it means they have to stop getting out of the way of attacks to deal real damage rather than chip damage, so they can't afford to pull too much aggro.

Strangers are aggro masters, doing sabotage to draw heat away from the frontline, joining the frontline to pile on flanking damage, roaming the backline to counter-Stranger and protect the supports. Roaming tanks that need to know pretty much all the other classes to be effective. TF2's spy and scout rolled into one.

Strikers are straightforward damage dealers. They get in close and get to slap you with something useful. A lot of their gameplay is getting close and staying close. In PvP it's the world's most interesting game of tag, with strikers able to move people out of position just by approaching, but runs the risks of being focused down, same reason people don't focus Tanks in PvP unless forced to. Strikers usually take advantage of the Trigger system - which I'll explain later - to give them the edge needed to get in close.

Shakers are more like facilitators of damage rather than outright damage dealers themselves, but rarely you get someone who's got the right power to do something destructive. It's more about removing cover and opening up firing lines, flushing out the supports, cutting the tanks off from their teammates, and preventing the same from happening to your own team. Pure Shakers have an incredibly high skill ceiling and exceptional game knowledge and might drop damage altogether, becoming a semi-Support. They can tell when pushes are coming, when the supports have a Stranger causing sabotage or a Striker diving into the backline. If a Brute hasn't taken charge of a party, or a Master isn't co-ordinating the team, Shakers step up to control the flow of the battlefield by controlling the battlefield itself.

Blasters are the same as Strikers, but focus on range and keeping themselves at range. Think a critical hit/damage build. They're the reason the Shakers control the battlefield, the reason Brutes can limit the amount of damage they take in a single attack to a certain level, the reason Strangers have to leave the frontline. They're also the ones most responsible for laying on damage in the PvE. You can't just set them up in a sniper's nest and leave them to pick off mobs, cuz of aggro, but so long as they do move between shots they usually get to set up, take a shot, and leave while the tanks wrangle the mobs back into place. You can usually tell if a boss fight is going well or not based on how much DPS the Blaster is putting out. If everyone else does their job, the Blaster will be able to put out the damage. If the Blaster is constantly having to move or blast mobs, someone isn't doing their 'job', and Blasters can be toxic and get an ego as a result.

Changers adapt to both the battlefield and their opponents as rapidly as possible. They're a wildcard dps, a duelist DPS, in PvP they need to be as unpredictable as possible, in PvE they need to know who and what they're going up against. They play very similar to Strikers and Breakers too, only they don't get a second (or more) health pool and they don't get the more potent I Win buttons that a Striker can get to crowd control a fight. They jump in, switch up their damage types or movesets, down their target and jump back out. They're a multitool and have toolsets to help them dismantle just about any of the other classes in a 1v1, but like the Stranger they need to know the capabilities and powers of who they're fighting to cinch the win. Hotly debated in the community because there's so many opinions about builds that Changers often feel like they've built wrong, leading to a lot of hate from their team and a lot of enemies feeling they have cheat builds

The supports are all playing a resource minigame built into their classes.

Tinkers probably have the highest build variety in the game. Even including some of the limitations their specializations put on them, they can still pretty much do any of the other classes. Exceptionally high skill ceiling and floor as a result; if they want to pretend to be a Brute, Thinker or Blaster, they have to know the role. Half of the main gameplay loop for a Tinker is spent out of combat, in the PvE and resource gathering mechanics. The more time you spend grinding materials, the more materials you have to build tech. Eventually though, you hit a cap on how much innovation you can do and you have to take that tech into fights to both test the new tech and also gain new data to turn into new tech. You get materials and data from both PvE and PvP, but PvE turns out more reliable common materials and PvP turns out more reliable common data, with the rarer stuff flipped. Rare materials as a result of battlefield damage or pieces of costume blasted off in PvP, rare data as a result of exploration and boss battles. The class is a bit harsh to new players who don't have the same time and effort the older Tinkers have to put into their equipment and do experimentation, which is a valid critique of the system and Tinkers are probably the most patched, nerfed and buffed class of them all, something that probably won't change until the main mechanic of the class is reworked.

Thinkers are very similar to Tinkers, except that they don't need to deal with materials and solely focus on data gained in PvE/PvP. Over the course of the fight and using as many points of data gathering as they can, they build up something like inspiration points, which they can throw out to teammates for damage boosts or damage reduction. At the start of PvP battles, nobody knows anything about the enemy team, and the Thinkers have to model the enemy in real time, revealing the fog of war and shutting down strategies while trying to advance their own. Tattletale figuring out Clockblocker and Aegis switched costumes is a pretty good example of denying the enemy strategy. Thinkers do get a lot of abilities to protect themselves, and sometimes you'll get frontline combat thinkers who can fight and communicate the capabilities of the enemy team more directly, by getting into fights with them and figuring out a way to survive long enough or disengage to pass the info along. But at the end of the day, they're usually not dangerous or tough enough to stand up to most other classes. The purest thinkers are truly game changing though, capable of ruining the enemy team's strategy long before they get to employ it. Of course, just because you've revealed the enemy team's plans and capabilities doesn't mean they're not still on the battlefield, so they still need to be fought. Thinkers are directly tied into battlefield objectives. Gain access to the security room to give your thinker eyes and ears on the foyer the enemy team is busting into. Move to capture the high ground so your Thinker has a vantage point. Capture an enemy team member so your Thinker has someone to interrogate.

Trumps are all about powers. They boost powers, they sap powers, they develop new powers. A good trump is always looking for anyone flagging in a fight and anywhere they can plug up gaps. They're almost always the main healer too, jumping in and using their power over powers to switch things up so their team is taking less damage, or recovering from it, and forcing the enemy team to back off or chase them down to stop the effects. There's good interplay with the other classes too, like getting the Thinker to tell them info on the enemy's powers to make a nullifying dive worth it. Bad trumps can seriously fuck up their own team's powers if they don't know what they're doing, which means that every time a Trump is on the team they are heavily interrogated as to their abilities and how they alter powers. If you've ever been screamed at for playing Mercy or Medic 'wrong' you're dipping your toe into a Trump's daily routine. Their powers come with resources and charges attached. Drain or nullify a power and you increase your own. Or three wishes and you can spend them on any power you want. Touch and imbue someone with damage negation, or superspeed, or regeneration, but you can't do too many charges at once.

Masters are the most flexible supports depending on what they master. They're split between three main roles based on the source of their minions, which is their resource minigame. Summoners pull minions from the battlefield, which makes them great in both PvE and PvP, because they can hardly be disarmed, but their minions are usually otherwise mundane and don't usually have high damage or health numbers. Bugs, for example. Which means they have to get pretty creative, huh? Controllers directly attack the enemy team, or sometimes puppet their own team members to grant them effects. A controller might take a bunch of Brutes as minions and become a Brute tank themselves, splitting the damage between them instead of getting damaged himself. Similarly, Controllers can just snatch an enemy teammate to turn against their own team, usually functioning like a Stranger, with the enemy team not knowing until it's too late, or until a Thinker spots the sabotage. Creators generate minions from themselves or sometimes the environment. Where Summoners get lots of mundane minions, Creators usually get a potent single or handful of minions with high stats or abilities of their own. An indestructible minion that lays waste to the enemy team until a Thinker can figure out where the Master is. A wave of custom minions built out of a biomatter resource the Master needs to manage.

Next up is the Trigger system.

When you create your character and their power, you can choose to mix up two or three power categories, with a thinning of points if you decide to go diverse, or you can keep the points in a single category and go for a pure class role. You can single trigger or double trigger, the latter makes your power more potent, even if you spread across two classes, but locks you into that class. Single triggers can later go for the second trigger and get a whole new tint on their original power, often choosing to add on the capabilities of another class, but they don't get outright buffs the way a double trigger usually does.

I don't know how to do grab bags as a fun mechanic. I think I'll stop here, it's been an hour. A few more things? I've never played City of Heroes but I heard it was fun.

The game is called Parahumans Online. Might be a fun no powers AU where Taylor is an up and coming Master Summoner and falls in with the Undersiders, a new villain guild.

[hannahbarberra162]

The Crocodile's Gambit, Part 6 (Crocodile x reader)

18+ MDNI | on Ao3

The other chapters

I'm not completely satisfied with it but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Might change minor details later. Special thanks to MothyNymph on Ao3 for the Buggy walking in idea!!

~

It was like the Clown wanted Crocodile to kill him. He certainly made it very appealing. The only reason the Clown was still alive to begin with was due to your sharp wits and luscious body holding sway over Crocodile’s decision making. But now the Clown was really going to have to die.

The Clown had barged in on you leaning on your forearms bent over Crocodile’s desk while he was seated in his chair. You were topless and your skirt was flipped up over your back and Crocodile had finally convinced you to wear stockings, only for him to shred them open down the center with his hook and eat you like a delicious meal until you screamed. You were heaving in deep breaths while coming down off your second orgasm, your limbs relaxed against the large desk. You were a little more tired today than usual but perhaps it was the games of chess late at night to calm his nerves. Crocodile looked over paperwork, his large hand idly stroking your slick folds in between turning pages and writing notes. Crocodile was feeling as relaxed as you looked and enjoyed the respite from the idiocy that the Clown brought him.

Without warning the heavy door to Crocodile’s office slammed open, revealing the idiot Clown on the other side. The Clown’s detached foot was already stepping on Crocodile’s expensive, handwoven rug in his disgusting costume shoes. Interrupting Crocodile unannounced was already enough of a reason for a brutal reminder of the rules in his estate but the Clown got an eyeful of you as well. A large wall of sand immediately arose from the floor to the ceiling in his office, shielding you from the Clown’s view. At least the Clown was wise enough to detach his head and float it back out the door immediately before Crocodile was able to take it away again.

“I didn’t -ah, know you were busy I’ll just um -” the Clown’s voice stammered from the hallway.

“Out.” Crocodile growled, stabbing his hook through his desk. You’d admonish him later for the damage but he was sure you’d rather the desk than your Captain. 

“Right, right. Of course, yes. Later, I’ll uh - later,” Buggy said, the rest of his body now following the head in the hallway. The Clown left the door open as he left the office - yet another annoyance to add to the pile. Crocodile started used a wave of sand to gently shut the door so as not to startle you.

“Heh, it’s like a sand castle,” the Clown said to himself once his whole body was in the hallway and he thought himself alone.

“Not the time, Captain!” you yelled from inside the sandy structure still keeping you from unwelcome eyes. The Clown seemingly took your advice and Crocodile heard the sound of footsteps running down the hall. Crocodile used his sand to slam the door shut with a thud.

“Don’t be mad, he -”

“You defend your Captain even so?” Crocodile said, turning to face you as you picked yourself off his desk.

“Always,” you huffed, crossing your arms. Crocodile released a huge puff of smoke into the air from his cigar, forcing you to uncross an arm to fan the smoke away from your face. Even seeing your breasts again didn’t mitigate his ire like they usually did.

“Oh, don’t be cross. I love you too -”

“It is not a question of loving . It is a question of loyalty. Should the Clown and I part ways, to whom will you be loyal, hm?” Crocodile was aware he was ruining his own good mood as well as your own but this very idea had been pricking at his thoughts late at night. He wanted to believe that whatever was happening between you was as meaningful to you as it was to him but he wasn’t completely sure. He had declared his feelings towards you and yet you remained loyal to someone else besides him.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want to hear the answers to,” you said, skewering him with a glance. Even naked and annoyed you were still a powerful woman to contend with and his cock stirred again with the thought of you bent over his knee, anger forgotten as he spanked it out of you. But his eyes narrowed as your words registered in his mind, their meaning souring his mood even further.

“What I don’t want to hear is your insolence. You have forgotten your place - I am your Captain and you are but a maid who cleans my office. I have no need of your services at the moment. Be gone,” Crocodile said acridly, dismissing you with a wave of his hook. He pointedly returned his attention to the papers on his desk, aware that you turned on your heel and left without a word and without retrieving your clothes. After the door slammed behind you, he pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb.

Crocodile had immediate feelings of regret as he remembered the hurt look that had momentarily flashed across your face. He’d spent so long getting you to trust him and he’d wiped it out in mere moments. He supposed he could have communicated his feelings of insecurity and worry through the ways you had been teaching him over the months you’d been together. He’d find some way to apologize to you later that evening when you came back to his chambers.

Except you didn’t.

Crocodile had thought of a few key points for his apology speech and had a bottle of your favorite wine brought to his chambers. He waited far past the time at which you normally came to bed, completing work that didn’t need to be done until the following week, and still your countenance did not grace his chambers. It was a touch out of character, you did not hold grudges like he did and were often quick to amend the situation when problems arose. Yet you did not end up in his bed that night. 

Or the night after.

By the second morning, Crocodile could not bear to be ignored any longer. One day was understandable, two was petulant but three was beyond the pale. What he said hadn't been egregious enough to warrant a multi day strike against him even if he hadn't apologized yet. His office was in a state of disarray as you hadn’t been by to clean it, either. Another woman had tried to enter and speak to him, likely to take over your duties but Crocodile had dismissed her. He didn’t want another woman to clean his office - he wanted his woman to clean things in the way he liked. His eyes roved over his unkempt office and landed on the seashell you’d given him a few weeks prior. You hadn’t mentioned it, just placed it over some of his papers as a paperweight to keep them from blowing away in the afternoon wind. Crocodile wasn’t normally one for knick knacks and accoutrements but he hasn't disposed of it either, preferring to keep the tan colored shell within hook’s reach. 

Running his fingers over the smooth inner shell, Crocodile decided that he would check on you. He wasn’t going to chase you down and force you to talk to him, he was a pirate with a multi billion beri bounty. He didn’t need to have some measly woman at his side, even if she was likely the best chess player of her generation. He just needed assurance that you were still on the island and perhaps the sight of him would make you want to begin the reconciliation process. Putting on his large coat, Crocodile left for where he assumed your residence was. He’d never actually been there, you’d always come to his much nicer dwelling space. Entering the circus tent, he grabbed the first idiot he saw with his hook and picked him off the ground with ease.

“Women’s quarters,” he gritted out. The man shook in fear but extended a hand to point towards a smaller circus tent to the side. Crocodile dropped him to the ground and the man scurried away like the mouse he was. At least you didn’t cower before him, he thought before leaving for the women’s quarters. Along the way he passed another housekeeper - the one who had tried to clean his office the day before. She hesitated when he passed, putting up a faltering finger to catch his attention.

“Ah, Sir Crocodile? She’s not, uh, she’s -”

“Out with it woman,” Crocodile prompted, albeit with more grace than he’d given the man.

“She’s in the infirmary,” the woman said, paling at the impromptu sandstorm gathering behind him. Crocodile brought himself to his full height, eyes flashing.

“How long?”

“Two days. I tried to tell you but -” Crocodile didn’t hear the end of the woman’s sentence as he spun on his heel and began a brisk stride to the clinic. He wasn’t running but his coat was billowing behind him as he hurried to the clinic. Using his power, sand softly opened the doors ahead of his arrival to the small, white building. He felt like slamming them open but if you were sleeping he didn’t want to disturb you.

The infirmary was not somewhere Crocodile had been before - he never got sick, nor did Daz. Crocodile never had reason to spend any time there and had simply approved the budget for the building. The only people who used it were the Clown’s weak crew and once when Mihawk had an allergic reaction to avocados. Looking it over as he scanned the inside, he quickly determined that it was inadequate for your care. There were no individual rooms, all beds were separated by flimsy curtains that did little to contain bacteria or noise. Spotting you from across the room, Crocodile crossed quickly, nursing staff moving to avoid his path.

Most of the beds were empty but your small form was curled up under several blankets on one of the beds. He didn’t remember you being that small, usually your intelligence and attitude made you seem much bigger. You looked terrible - large bags were under your eyes as you shivered uncontrollably. There was a sheen of sweat on your green tinged skin as you gripped the crisp white sheets between clenched fingers. Your teeth were chattering which made Crocodile’s hand twitch with the desire to scoop you up and warm you with his body heat. He belatedly realized someone was tapping him on the arm as he stared at your sleeping body.

“Sir, there’s no smoking allowed in the infirmary,” the nurse closest to your bed informed him in a clipped tone. Crocodile wasn’t one to follow orders from anyone, much less someone in his employ. But you started to cough violently, a powerful deep hack that made his own chest hurt just watching your form contract on the bed. The nurse rushed to help you sit up a little higher in the bed and Crocodile grabbed a pillow off a nearby chair to place join the several already behind your back.

“She has an upper respiratory virus, the smoke is harming her airways,” the nurse informed Crocodile. Crocodile immediately put out his cigar in sand and threw the butt away out the open window. He’d have time later to smoke - after he moved you out of this abysmal clinic. 

“Who is the doctor on staff?” Crocodile asked Dolores, the tag on her uniform indicating her name. Crocodile was rolling you towards him in the bed, giving you a closer inspection as you continued to cough.

“N-no doctor” you wheezed at him as he cradled your face in his hand. You looked worse now that your bloodshot eyes were open - you must have coughed so hard you burst blood vessels.

“We’ll discuss this at my house,” he said quietly to you. 

“Dolores, have her belongings moved to my residence. Main bedroom on the first floor. All equipment that she will need will be available to her and if she needs additional medicines or materials, order them immediately. You will continue to be her personal nurse until I relieve you of that duty,” Crocodile ordered the nurse calmly. She flicked her eyes over him but nodded briefly before beginning to grab medical equipment off the metal tray by the side of the bed. Crocodile bundled you in your blankets complete with his jacket on top and picked you up gently, supporting your body under his arms. 

“Feel na-nauseous,” you said, your voice hoarse. Crocodile had missed hearing your voice singing poorly from the kitchen as you made your latest abomination, but the weariness now sounding through it made his heart clench. He hiked you up further in his arms, thinking that being upright might help you feel better.

“I’m taking you home, it should be more comfortable,” Crocodile stated as he began walking through the clinic back to his mansion. “You’ll have the same nurse, she’s bringing medication -”

“No med-icine,” you groaned. Crocodile understood your reluctance given what he knew of your past but suffering for days on end was not an acceptable solution.

“I can make no promises on that front, Tesoro. I will do what is best for your health but I assure you I will try to use as few medications as possible. As Crocodile strode towards his house at an even pace in an effort to avoid jostling you as much as possible, the Clown’s torso drifted rapidly towards the two of you. Crocodile was in no mood for anything to do with the Clown but his presence might be a balm to you. The Clown wore a serious expression that belied his true idiotic nature but Crocodile would air his frustrations with the Clown without your presence.

“How are ya doing today, Doll?” the Clown asked as Crocodile slowed his walk. His legs were behind but catching up steadily. The three of you continued to walk towards Crocodile’s mansion as his grip tightened around your body.

“Don’t feel good Cap,” you replied, leaning your head against Crocodile’s shoulders. Buggy clicked his tongue and a detached hand raised to your forehead before Crocodile intercepted it.

“P-please, let him,” you whined, shifting in Crocodile’s arms. Crocodile’s eyes narrowed and he nearly bit his cigar out of muscle memory before remembering he didn’t have one.

“Is that so?” he asked the Clown, towering over the fool. For his part, Buggy wasn’t cowed and looked almost professional as he assessed the woman in Crocodile’s arms. They entered the estate and Crocodile entered the bedroom and placed you in the over-large bed. Usually it felt just right to have you in there with him, the bed big enough for both of you to enjoy each other’s company. He’d missed you the last few nights, the bed colder and lonelier than he remembered.But now the gigantic mattress seemed to swallow you as you curled in on yourself. Buggy sat down on the edge of the bed, his arms moving you to a semi-seated position. 

“Gonna feel your lymph nodes, Kid,” he said, addressing you. He continued to chatter as he worked, though now to Crocodile, which seemed to keep you calm. “I got into medical school but Red Haired told me he was going after the One Piece so I declined my spot to sail with him. Kept up with some of the education, but being a doctor’s another thing Red Haired took from me,” Buggy said, now moving your head gently to palpate your neck. Crocodile didn’t want to hear any more foolishness from the Clown, especially about Red Haired Shanks. The Clown cupped your cheek and Crocodile’s eyes flashed in warning. 

“I think she’ll be ok. It’s a nasty viral infection but she’ll be on the mend soon enough,” the Clown said, reattaching all his body pieces to form a cohesive unit again.

“How sure are you?” Crocodile gritted out, wishing he had a cigar to puff. Maybe you were right about his tobacco consumption - you’d been warning him that he smoked too much.

“Pretty sure. Could always call and ask a friend though,” the Clown said speculatively while rubbing his chin. Crocodile’s eyes narrowed as his mind flipped through the list of potential doctors the Clown might know. The Clown was even more connected than Crocodile, always seeming to be in the right place at the right time to meet and mingle with the best of society. 

“Who, Crocus?” Crocodile asked while rubbing the metal attached to his arm. The physician of the Pirate King would surely be knowledgeable enough to treat you, though Crocodile didn’t know where he was located. Surely he maintained some kind of relationship with one of the men who raised him and would be able to call in a favor. Based on your history, Crocodile suspected getting you in front of any doctor would be tricky, but maybe the fame of the Pirate King’s own physician would be enough to sway you.

“I was thinking Marco,” the Clown suggested while watching you drift back off to sleep. 

“The Pheonix?” Crocodile said with a sneer, now adjusting his hook. He had complex feelings towards Marco, most of them unpleasant. They’d both been at Marineford, of course, and something between them had shifted. Still, there were many years of tension between the two pirates. Of course, he respected his abilities as a fighter and a physician, that went without saying. In some ways, there was no other doctor Crocodile would have preferred for you since Marco was able to heal using devil fruit power. Still, the memories of fighting Whitebeard and losing his hand made Crocodile’s lip curl in disgust.

“I’m telling you, she’ll probably be OK in a few days. But I can call Marco if you want me to, we’ve been friends for a long time. He was the one who taught me enough to get into medical school. He charges high prices though, good help ain’t cheap,” the Clown said, now adjusting the covers on your body. Crocodile was going to deny at the suggestion but your tiny body was suddenly wracked with coughs as your lungs struggled to get air into your body. Crocodile could almost see the blood vessels breaking under your skin as his hand itched to pick you back up, your meager weight in his arms an assurance to his mind.

“Call the Bird,” Crocodile gritted out.

A few minutes later Crocodile was towering over the Clown as his detached hands roved the surprisingly tidy office for Marco’s snail number. Crocodile had never actually bothered to go inside the Clown’s obscene tent before; he’d never had a reason to. Crocodile hadn’t been sure what he was expecting but an organized office filled with tasteful furniture wasn’t it. 

“Ah, found it,” the Clown said, pulling out a piece of paper from a filing cabinet. “I’ll, uh, handle the call,” the Clown said, eyeing Crocodile nervously. Crocodile sat in the stately office chair, crossing his foot over his knee. The Clown pulled the snail from the desk over to a guest chair, picking up the receiver and dialing a number.

Puru puru puru     Puru puru puru     Puru puru puru

“Why if it isn't Blue-Haired Buggy yoi,” a familiar voice drawled over the snail. The snail shifted form to resemble Whitebeard’s irritating former First Commander, complete with unsightly hair atop its head. Marco wore glasses now but the placid smile was still on his smug face as he answered the call.  Crocodile lit up a cigar - he’d need it to get through the call without impaling anyone. Marco always made Crocodile’s hackles rise, even when he wasn’t doing anything. But Crocodile needed you to get better and if Marco was what it took, so be it.

“Hey, Marco. I need a favor,” the Clown began. Crocodile’s mind wandered to how they would have met but decided to table that talk for later. 

“After so long, it’s not ‘hey Marco, how are you?’ Or ‘Hi, Marco, how are you doing after the war? Just that you need a favor yoi?” Marco asked, his tone teasing but his words sharp. 

“Nah. It’s business right now. One of my crew is sick and Croco- er, I’m  really concerned about them,” the Clown stated after flicking his eyes at a furiously smoking Crocodile. Crocodile was mollified now the Clown had adjusted his statement - the Bird didn’t need to know what relationship Crocodile had to you. Any personal relationships were weakness, Crocodile knew that after so many years of being a Warlord and pirate. Crocodile had reason to believe he could wear out the stamina and defeat the nearly invincible Phoenix, but he’d rather not put forth effort where there was no need. And yet he’d still rather show his hand than risk you being sick for any longer amount of time.

“Hmph. I normally charge for this, you know,” Marco said with an indulgent roll of his eyes.

“I know, but you still love me, dontcha? Your doctor-in-training?” the Clown asked as he smiled widely. Marco just rolled his eyes again but the snail leaned its hand against its chin in an approximation of Marco’s pose .

“State of the patient?” Marco asked, pushing his glasses up his nose. The Clown launched into a long statement about your health, answering question after question with ease. Perhaps the Clown really did have some medical background, Crocodile thought to himself as he listened to their assessment. Ultimately, Marco concluded the same thing that the Clown had as they chatted pleasantly via snail. 

“I agree it's likely viral yoi. I can’t diagnose without seeing the patient but I trust in your assessment. She may also have bruised or fractured a rib based on the report you’ve given. Rest, fluids, supportive care, you know the drill,” Marco stated with a smile at the Clown. “Tell your crew not to worry. She’ll most likely be better in a few days. If not, call back and I’ll see what we can do yoi. I’m always here, Blue Haired,” Marco said, a wistful look on his face. The affection from Marco to the Clown was an interesting twist to the situation at hand. Crocodile was annoyed at Marco’s implication that he was the Clown’s crew but he was glad he had the confirmation of an actual doctor regarding your physical state. Crocodile was pleased to hear that you'd be doing better soon and that he didn't have to bear Marco's presence near his own.

Crocodile left the Clown to finish the call and went straight back to his bedroom. You’d falled back asleep but your rapid breathing made Crocodile uneasy. Bringing his oversized arm chair closer to the bed, Crocodile sat down and opened a book to read. After a few moments, you began to stir. 

“Cr-Crocodile?” you said groggily. Crocodile reached over and picked up the glass of water Dolores had left for you. 

“Drink, Tesoro, ” Crocodile urged, holding the cup in front of your face. You took a small sip and laid back down on his bed.

“Are you still mad at me?” you rasped, closing your eyes as you spoke, as if the effort to talk was nearly too much to bear.

“No, Tesoro. I’m not mad at you. Are you still mad at me?” he asked, setting the cup back down.

“Y-yeah, you didn’t apologize for being a di-ck. I’m still mad,” you stated, still struggling to get your words out.

“I apologize for being a dick, Tesoro . I should have expressed my emotions to you in a productive manner. I was envious and insecure and you didn’t deserve to bear the brunt of my jealousy,” Crocodile said, now leaning forward to push your hair off your face. You caught his hand in your own and put it against your cheek. Crocodile smiled softly and curled his fingers around your jaw, cradling you gently.

“I acc-cept your apology,” you said as magnanimously as you could from your lying position. “I wanna play chess again,” you whined.

“We will, Tesoro. Soon,” Crocodile promised, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You hummed but your brows pinched in the middle and soon you were coughing hard enough that you vomited over the sheets. Crocodile felt useless as he fretted and patted your back, watching as you were unable to gather your breath. After you’d stopped coughing, Crocodile settled you back in the bed and quietly left the room. He informed Dolores to change the sheets on his bed and headed back towards the Clown’s office. Finding the slip of paper, Crocodile sat down in the Clown’s inferior chair and picked up the snail receiver.

Puru puru puru   Puru puru puru   Puru puru puru

“Marco. What are your rates for an in-person medical assessment?” 

[morningmask27]

acrylic on canvas 30x40 cm

it is very evil of Belladonna to not bite women when she probably has the entire lesbian community on their knees now

anyways, Dracula's Ex-Girlfriend was so fucking good and despite my hatred of drawing (let alone painting) humans it compelled me to create something.

I'm just going to leave a wall of commentary on the process under the cut because I need to chatter about all of this real quick

I chose this scene at the end because 1. it was super hard to find one still where Bella and Fay are both properly visible (yet somehow Fay's still facing the other direction) and 2. this scene just hits a bit different to me.

the discussion of smoking, a thing that's bad, but it being life, right as Bella drank that bartender dry made me think of a few things I experienced and while I personally will still keep on going against what Fay said here, I still got to see things in a somewhat different light I guess.

Fay's care is also so present here. Bella is self-destructing massively, but Fay still comforts her, even after she "fell back" on her bad habits (she never quit) and this hug just hit me personally quite a lot. the silent care, the "you're warm". I can't fully describe everything it makes me feel, but this scene was good.

on a more technical level. I had to take some creative liberties with the lighting and such because it was DARK and my painting skills aren't ready to make such minute details with extremely dark colors. It would get ugly and muddied, so I had to adapt. the harsh shading on Bella's face is less striking, but I don't know if I could make it better with my current skills.

This was also one of the first times I've really rendered a human face; Last time I "tried" it was 1. without a ref (unwise) and 2. when I was even worse at drawing humans and I ended up so mad at this painting that I Could Not Go Paint Again for a while because of how mad I was lol, so I'm honestly really impressed with how I managed to do this without making a huge mess.

At least until I got to add the blood. It still looks good now, but I had to fiddle a lot with the reds I used and the skintones to mitigate the damage of a few first strokes that got too grandiose.

I also decided that Fangs. I am a bit of a vampire researcher and seeing the different traits they get in different media is always fun and here the fangs seem a bit retractable, but Bella's a vampire and I am a sucker for fangs, so I had to include them.

my handwriting also didn't fail me too horribly, even if I had a few accidents and had to clean them up before I got this "clean" little text. I really don't have good brushes for very thin and precise strokes (nor the capacity to not tremble the entire time honestly)

This was honestly quite fun too. Four hours of listening to some music, having a weird moment with my mother on the phone and just painting. I did really not want to draw Bella's face at first and drew nearly everything else before I began, but once I did I got into the groove and it went fine, so I'm pleased with this.

[covid-safer-hotties]

"You Have to Live Your Life:" Responses to Common COVID Minimizing Phrases - Published Aug 6, 2024

If you're still COVIDing, you've likely heard phrases, like "it's mild now," or "you have to live your life," repeated over and over. You might be wondering, "what do I even say here? How do I respond to this?" I've listed some of the most common minimizing phrases and some potential responses to them. Feel free to adapt these and make them your own. I've included a variety of responses with different tones, depending on how much you want to be #saltingthevibes.

I want to recognize you might not always have the time or emotional energy to get into these discussions. Some people unfortunately aren't engaging in good faith, so it's important to be able to discern for yourself when you want to have these conversations. You don't always have to educate people, it can be exhausting! For those times when you want to respond but are at a loss for words in the moment, here are some ideas to get you started.

Starting off with one of my (least) favorites:

"You have to live your life!"

"I am living my life. Wearing a mask doesn't stop me from living my life, it makes it possible for me to do the things I love more safely."

"I'd love to be able to get out and do more things, but unfortunately that's not safe for me because so few people are masking."

"I would be a lot harder to live my life if COVID disabled me."

"Living my life means protecting my health, in the short and long term."

"I've adapted how I live my life based on the research about all of the long term health effects of a COVID infection."

"How long are you going to keep doing this for?"

"I'll probably always wear a mask in public spaces, when you know better you do better!"

"There's no expiration date on keeping myself safe and protecting my health."

"When we've widely implemented clean air standards and there's a sterilizing vaccine for COVID, then I might update my current precautions."

"I really wish I didn't have to do this either! But given what I know about COVID and Long COVID, this is the best choice for me."

"How long are you going to keep doing this for? It seems like you're sick all the time now, it sounds really unpleasant."

"We have to live with COVID."

"I'm glad you agree the government has done a terrible job trying to mitigate the spread!"

"To me, living with COVID means doing what we can to protect ourselves, not just giving up entirely."

"We also have to live with car accidents, that's why I wear my seatbelt to protect myself."

"What if we didn't have to? What if we collectively did more to clean the air and create safer living conditions for all of us?"

"Unfortunately you're right, that's why I'll continue to mask to keep myself and my community safer."

"It's mild now/it's just a cold/flu."

"Many illnesses seem like 'just a cold/flu' when you're first infected, but can still have long term health consequences, like mono or HIV."

"You can develop Long COVID even if your initial symptoms are mild or asymptomatic."

"I'm not as worried about the initial symptoms of the acute infection, I'm more concerned about the significant risk of Long COVID."

"You're lucky your symptoms weren't very severe initially. For me, COVID was a lot worse than a cold."

"I don't want to get sick with a cold either."

"I got it X times and I'm fine!"

"I'm sorry to hear you've had so many infections. COVID can cause silent damage throughout our bodies, it might be a good idea to go in for a check up with your doctor."

"I'm glad you're feeling fine so far, but my experience has been different."

"Your risk of Long COVID increases with each infection, so I'm doing what I can to avoid getting it."

"I hear that in your experience, a COVID infection hasn't been a big deal. Unfortunately not everyone is so lucky and many are dealing with significant Long COVID symptoms."

"You're young and healthy, you'll be fine/ only the vulnerable need to worry."

"I used to think the same thing! It turns out I have some underlying risk factors that mean an infection could be very harmful to me."

"Everyone is at risk of Long COVID, and your risk increases with each infection."

"You cannot know someone's health status by looking at them. A lot of young people are high risk as well."

"I don't appreciate you making assumptions about my health status."

"Did you know more than 75% of Americans have at least one risk factor? More than 40% have two or more, and almost 20% have three or more! Being high risk is more common than you think."

"There are actually a lot of factors that can make someone high risk, like a history of smoking, depression, asthma, ADHD, and more!"

"Kids don't get COVID/it's mild for kids."

"Unfortunately many studies show that rates of Long COVID in kids is similar to the rates in adults."

"COVID is the 8th leading cause of death in children in the US."

"Kids can be high risk for COVID, like if they have asthma, ADHD, autism, diabetes, or other common health issues."

"Kids don't deserve to be repeatedly infected with an illness that we know causes long term damage."

"I'd encourage you to read some of the stories about kids with Long COVID, it's heartbreaking for them and their families."

"Long COVID is rare."

"I'm curious where you learned that, because that doesn't fit into my understanding of Long COVID."

"Studies show rates around 20% of adults infected will go on to develop Long COVID, and many studies show higher rates. Your risk increases with each infection."

"Even if you're right, I'm not willing to risk it."

"Have you noticed an increase in weird symptoms or health issues in your circle? Fatigue, headaches, GI issues, stroke, heart attack, blood clots and a ton of other issues can all be caused by a COVID infection."

"It's more common than you might think, there are over 200+ possible symptoms and it can look different in everyone."

"My doctor doesn't wear a mask."

"Yikes! How unfortunate your doctor isn't up to date on the science and isn't doing more to protect their patients."

"It's too bad how many doctors don't stay up to date with important health information."

"Doctors also used to smoke cigarettes in healthcare facilities and recommend them to patients. Just goes to show you doctors aren't always right."

"The medical field scorned the doctor who recommended they start washing their hands... I'm seeing a lot of parallels here."

"Unfortunately it can take many years for practices like these to become more mainstream."

[jemgirl86]

6.4K words

Inspired by/based on this post from @siancore

******

Bucky blinked awake slowly, then grimaced. His mouth was dry, his head was aching, and he was still alone.

Yeah, he and Sam had fought the night before, and from what he remembered, it was worse than usual, but, still it was normal. The fighting anyway; after the past few weeks or so, it was practically routine.

But waking up alone wasn’t. No, they weren’t technically committed to each other, but he and Sam were pretty consistent with each other. No matter how bad a blowup they had, they always seemed to end the night in each other’s arms, except last night apparently.

Last night, when Bucky had been spitting mad and itching for a fight, again, all because Riley didn’t know how to leave well enough alone, again.

Last night when Bucky had finally snapped and done the kind of thing that couldn’t exactly be taken back.

Even so, he’d tried. Once he had arrived home and the full weight of what he’d done, and what it could mean, hit him squarely in the chest, he’d tried to mitigate the damage. With his heart beating overtime he’d sent no less than a dozen texts to Sam, each one more desperate than the last. Each one left pointedly on “read.”

But it was a new day, and their disagreements, while often and even sometimes lengthy lately, had never been particularly silent. Well, at least not since they’d started hooking up anyway, so Bucky tried again.

Sun, Sep 29 at 1:04 PM

So, what, you’re not talking to me now, Wilson? Very mature.

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