#so if anyone is able and wanna seriously help a poor disabled woman out (not accepting sugar daddies sry)

[rachymarie]

Anyone else relatively young still but dealing with an aggressive silver streak taking over the hair and don't wanna be stuck doomed to dyeing they hair for the next 20+ years to look younger/fit in etc??

Dad once started teasing me for calling me granny and I was like you are a sexist pig. I am a silver vixen (sans the money, send help*)

[raindrenchedstories]

Forever home 16

So this happened today. I don’t think anyone is going to complain.

Bear set Richters carrier down outside the house. He took a deep steadying breath, and pulled the man from his travel box. The house was so much smaller than he was. There were spells to accommodate this. He’d managed to purchase one before his visit.

The place was surprisingly empty for a famous painter’s home. But that was probably for the best. He didn’t want to have to silence Ricky while shoving past dozens of strangers. Making the situation all the more stressful on both of them.

The building was painted several shades of orange, white, and green. Traditional Ogre colours. He gave a smirk. Silly little things loved their colours. But, Every ogre he’d met was accommodating and friendly. With this, Bear pulled the packed spell from his pocket. “Need anything from in there?”

*

Richter stood at foot level, shaking. He jumped upon hearing Bears voice, but answered quickly. “No. No I’m good. Ready to go.” The trip had been nerve wracking. Those warp gate things were noisy as hell. Going through them felt strange. And now they were in a new place. A place clearly too small for Bear.

Richter would have to jump to reach the doorknob, but it was small enough he could manage his way around. The carrier rose from behind him, and was clipped to the giants belt awkwardly. Richter watched this in awe a moment.

Not long after, Bear brought his hand heavily to his chest. There was a loud crack. Richter flinched back as the titanic man shrunk before his eyes. Now standing about ten feet above Richter. He shook himself slightly. Bracing a hand on a lamppost for support.

Richter was too stunned to say anything. Backing away slightly. Before a door behind him flung open. A large being, about the size of Bear burst from the building. Red tattoos covered deep green skin. The being sported large tusks, and a set of long horns. And the look on his face couldn’t be happier.

“WILLIAM B. HEART! Ya’ look like someone thumped ya’ with an ugly stick.” The beast jaunted over, gate unsteady as Richter noticed the next prominent feature of this thing. No arms. This made him resemble a top in the way he wobbled as he walked. Working to correct his balance as he went.

“An look at you! You must be Richter! ‘Ere lemme get a good look.” The being stood on one leg, dragging Richter to chest level with his other. So much for needing to work around his balance. The ogre stared into Richters eyes with unbridled delight before releasing him.

“Looks just like ‘is daddy. And you say the lad can talk?” His attentions returned to the shrunken giant. Now staggering his way over to the pair. Richter gave him an unsure look as Bear grinned towards the ogre.

“Ask him. Not me.” This prompted all the attention to return to Richter, who smiled nervously. He wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted to ask how his parents were doing. Or introduce himself.

Instead, however. “Y-yeah. I can talk. Nice to meet you sir.”

The ogres eyes shone brightly. He slammed his shoulder into Richter. Gently enough not to really cause damage, but hard enough to knock him off balance. “You must get your manners from your mother. Gotta say. When Bear told me ya lil’ rats could talk, I had some serious questions. But they’re all translated up. Yer’ old man still hates my ass but hey. Far from skin off m’nose.”

They were led into the house. Richter being filled with so many questions. Instead of an answer however, something came flying around the corner. Entrapping his ribs in a tight grasp. “RICHTER!”

“Wh-urk... Hi mom.” He did his best to return the hug. Loosely encircling his mother in a hug of his own. Ignoring the cooing coming from Worm. Another man rounded the corner, a little greyer than when Richter had last seen him. A full, neatly trimmed beard gracing his features.

But there was no mistaking it. That was his father. The man strode over to him, eyeing the younger man. Soon enough Richter was further engulfed in his parents arms. He threw the free arm around his father. Resting his head on the older mans shoulder.

They must have stayed like that for a while, as Bears voice cut through. “Um. Were you working with glue earlier Worm?” Richters father broke the hug immediately. While the other two awkwardly shuffled away from one another.

The man puffed up his chest and rose to meet Bear as far as he could. “You. The hell did you do to my boy brute?” Richter turned, catching an arm under his father’s ribs, and physically lifting the man away from Bear. Relieving an amused laugh from Worm.

“Dad. let’s not try and pick a fight with the guy who’s literally trying to save humanity.” He set the man behind his mother. In all honestly, it was nice to be able to throw his weight around again. Living with giants made a man feel helpless at times.

Bear however, just patted Richters shoulder with a laugh. “It’s fine. Really. Poor guy’s probably been through the ringer before we showed up. As for your question, fed him, clothed him, kept a roof over his head. You know.”

Richter’s father tensed. Folding his arms. Glaring up at the giant. But he gave an affirmative grunt. It was Richter’s mother who finally broke the tension. “How about we all work this out in the living room? I can make some tea.... Somehow.”

Richter licked his lips. “I’ll help.”

Worms kitchen was jury-rigged with all kinds of odd devices to work around his disability. However, there were step stools for the smaller residents that made the action of boiling water easier for the two. His mother worked quickly. She seamed to be in far better health than when he’d seen her last.

“I... I can’t believe how long it’s been.” Richter flinched. Staring down at his mother. She was watching out the window above her head. Hugging her arms. “I never thought I’d see you again. But here you are. Alive and well. Look at you!” She beamed.

Richter just shook his head laughing. “Look at me? Mom, you look amazing. Dad too. Worm seams like a pretty nice guy.” To this, the woman laughed.

“I wish your father were as accepting. Since day one, he had to pick a fight with everything giant. Or not human in general.” Richters shoulders tensed. This... Wasn’t good news. He heaved a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

His mother picked up on this, and brought her hand to fluff over the tips of Richters hair as well. Being mindful of his head. Drawing a laugh from the man. He pulled away, rising out of arms reach. A smirk on his features. For once, things felt... normal. The old kind of normal.

It wasn’t long until his old man joined them in the kitchen. Ghost white. He fell upon a pillow by the window. Eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. “Richter... Is it true?”

“Is what true?” Richters heart stopped a minute. His father was skeptical of giants at best. If Bear had told him ANYTHING about the past while, since entering Bears home... He braced for angry, accusing words.

“You were alone for almost three months? That...Neil’s family is... And you were...” He dully felt his mothers hand on his arm. His mouth went dry. It really wasn’t something he wanted to discuss.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to. As his expression clearly said enough. “Fuck. Sorry kid.”

Kid. That was a nickname he hadn’t heard in a while. Richter gave a bitter laugh, leaning further against the counter. Even scaled down so much, the house was huge. There were large pillows placed in strategic areas. They were clearly well used.

Some small scuffs were made on the floor, from his fathers boots. The prints were too large to be his mother’s doing. Richter took a steadying breath, and sighed. “So. You want the good or the bad news first?”

“Bad first.” His mother sighed.

“Bad news is, if everyone acts like a dick. We’re still going to be pets. Just ones that can speak.”

“Language. Now what’s the good news?”

Richter sighed. He went into every detail about the plans he and Bear had made. Also being sure to include the mentions of a relief effort for the men and women still trapped in the ruins. As he droned on about changing things, about having a chance to be counted out of the responsibility act, his father perked up.

Eventually the tea was ready, and the three humans worked together to bring it in to the two beings in the next room. Bear was sitting and watching as Worm set his paints and pencils beside him. He turned to the family entering the room with a bright smile. “Oi! You three go sit by the window. I wanna mark this occasion.”

There wasn’t much room to argue. So Richter sat at the window, enjoying the sun on his back while his mother and father encircled him in a tight hug. The giant paused. Blinking a few times. He tapped Worm on the shoulder and mentioned something.

With the ogres permission, Bear moved two pots of flowers behind them. It was odd. Seeing a big, green, paint covered face poke from behind the canvas every so often. A paintbrush clenched between his teeth. Occasionally he asked them to adjust their pose. Or offered some cookies to go with their tea.

When all was said and done. They were called over. On the canvas was almost a perfect match from them. It was about then that Richter noticed something. The same healthy glow his mother and father carried, was reflected on his own features.

He gave his skin an accusatory look. Only to find that it was just as pink as the painting. He really looked like he’d been in good health. His mother grinned. Staring at the painting with delight. While his father gave it a cursory glare.

“Seriously you paint us like we’re a basket of kittens.” He sighed. Worm just laughed. Resting his chin on the mans head. Nuzzling him, much to his chagrin.

“Oh come on. Ya’ lil’ buggers are cute. B’sides. Isn’t this how you want to be seen with your family?” Silence followed. There was really no arguing the point.

Richter sighed. Leaning on his father casually. “I guess after all this, we can brag that Worm the mighty painted our family portrait.” He smirked. Causing Bear a short chuckle. Though, Both his mother and father seamed confused. Worm however, puffed up.

“Ye. And I’ll charge ya’ lil’ bastards for the next one!” He snickered. Giving Richter a friendly tap on the back with his foot. This, however, triggered a response Richter was dreading. He reflexively leaned back further into the contact, only realizing what he’d done when Worm’s foot returned to the floor. Followed closely by Richter’s rear end.

Four sets of eyes landed on the man. His face flushing scarlet. Bear, however, cleared his throat. Helping Richter back to his feet casually. Worm just smirked. Or grimaced. It was hard to tell around the tusks. “Yeah that’ll happen after you live with a giant. Ya get so used to being picked up, ya just lean into it.”

“How. How’s a small ass giant like that able to pick Richter up that often?” His father glared at the ogre.

“Oh, like this.” Bears hand scooped under Richter. Lifting him in a jarring motion to sit lightly cradled in the giants arms. Squawking about being put down immediately. Once his feet returned to the floor, Richter straightened himself. Glaring daggers at the giant.

Bear, in turn, burst into laughter. Loud, rumbling laughter. “No but in all honestly. I’m no smaller than any other giant. I had to use a shrinking spell just to get in. Normally I can hold your son in the palm of my hand.”

“Okay! Enough embarrassing the man who knows where certain people sleep. Mom? Dad? Are you on board for the thing?” Richters voice cut through sharply. Starting to feel more like himself now that he was actually socializing with people other than his m- with Bear.

In the end. The two filled their paperwork out. As well as Worm. They visited only a little longer before it was time to go. Richters arms trapped his parents in a tight grip. They were promised they’d see one another again. By both Worm and Bear. But when the world ends. Every goodbye should be treated like the last one.

*

The giant waved to the trio at the door, and left the house with Richter close behind. Eyes wide. Everything was HUGE at this angle. “Rick... Is this how the world always looks to you?” He watched as a few of his own people crossed the massive streets. Walking along an elevated path with the human.

It was private. Away from the others, as per Richters request. He didn’t want to answer too many questions from too many strangers. Richter just paused. Staring at Bear. He seamed confused a moment. Then spoke up.

“I mean. This is basically it. Just on a MUCH bigger scale. Like, this place is massive! W-When are you going to get big again?” Richter clutched Bears jacket, the man showed clear signs of distress. From this angle, Bear could read his expressions easily, it seamed. Though they seamed... Exaggerated.

“I think she said it would ware off in a couple hours. We can wait somewhere quiet if you want.” He reached a hand in his pocket for a note regarding the spell. And instantly felt cold. “Oh... Oh no. We can’t. I have to head home. NOW.”

He didn’t look back as he gripped Richter by the shoulder and sprinted. The spell would ware off... In 24 hours. Another hop through a warp gate and they were closer to the house. Bear then pulled a memory orb from his pocket. Calling Archibald.

“I can’t believe it.” The giant paced back and forth while Richter gathered himself. “24 hours! I’m going to be a shrimp for 24 hours!”

“I’m just amazed you even know what a shrimp is.” Richter leaned on a tree sighing. Eventually the human apparently grew tired of Bears constant worrying. As he gripped the mans leg, and dropped him heavily to the ground. Knocking the wind out of him.

“Shit! Sorry. Um... Look Arch is going to be here soon right? We’ll get to the house, and figure things out from there. No need to panic.” Now that he was able to see the man better, Bear found that Richters eyes held an experience to them.

The kind a man gains from long days and frightening nights. The kind he knew well. Even further still, he could make out a few old scars running along Richters arms. Dog bites, places where he’d lost skin. The giant stood on unsteady feet.

Staring down at the man. Richter stared right back with a bright expression. Oblivious to the injuries he carried. Bear inhaled, then pulled the man into a hug. Ignoring the indignant yelp. “You’re right. It’s just unsettling. Imagine being me sized. And then losing a few dozen feet.”

“Oh it’s not that bad.” Both men sprung back. Eyeing upwards at Archibald. From this angle, he was horrifying. Even in the casual stance he took, the man was the size of a mountain. Those golden eyes just piercing down at them through the glasses. A lazy smirk spread over his cheeks.

“Need a ride?” Slowly, so as not to make the horror worse, Archibald lowered himself to one knee, resting a hand on the forest floor. Richter seamed to have no trouble scrambling up it’s surface. Bear on the other hand, couldn’t force himself to move.

Too big. Way too big. He’d never thought of Archibald as anything but equal. Now... Now he was basically a titan. And he was asking Bear to just... CLIMB into his hand? Richter stared back at him with a sigh. “Pretend it’s an elevator. You guys have those, right? You just need to do a little climbing. And then shut your eyes.” The human reached an encouraging hand for him.

Okay. Okay he could do this. He’d been through worse. Slowly, Bear stepped onto his friends palm. He had to hold Richter on his lap, while Archibald held him with both hands. They made their way to the house swiftly. Bear was set in the enclosure with Richter.

Solid ground. It felt AMAZING. Bears body fell limp. Richters laughter cut through his thoughts. A glass of water pushed into his hand. “Yeah. I know the feeling.” The man looked as though he’d just gone hiking. Holding the sympathetic expression one carries when they’re a pro at something you only just started.

“Did you go through this shit your first day here?” Bear sat up. Taking the water gratefully. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been gasping since he shrunk. It almost tasted like heaven. If not a little too cold. Was Richter content with this? Bear resigned to give the man more variety for his beverages. Something he could make for himself.

Richter’s laugh said it all. “The first day? Bear. I still go through that from time to time. Why do you think I hate being on the floor?” He couldn’t help the shudder creeping up his spine. Watching Archibald roam around the house casually wasn’t much better. Bear never realized how BIG he was.

“Weird. When I dreamed about this, I felt kinda’ similar. But it wasn’t anywhere near as terrifying.” That dream made it seam so normal. But this was anything BUT normal. Richter sat beside him and shared in Bear’s giant watching. A sigh escaping the small man as he leaned on Bears side.

“Yeah? Well, it’s not always so bad. Times like this get more and more rare as you get used to it.” He shut his eyes, leaning on the giant. Bear just paused, looking down at Richter. The man seamed so content. So relaxed.

Never mind the fact that they were sitting on a table in the corner of his kitchen. Never mind the idea that Richter was powerless to change anything in his environment aside from asking. Never mind the fact that... The man had come to terms with it. Even seaming relaxed about it.

Bears hand came up, and almost rested on Richters head, before adjusting to his shoulder. “Remind me to hit you with a growth spell one of these days.” He sighed. It was only fair Richter saw things from his angle, too.

“Please don’t actually hit me with it. That would suck.”  Richter chortled. He sounded as though he was dozing off. Once again impressing the giant with his relaxed state. Then again, what did Richter have to stress about? He was pulled from a horrible situation, and given a rent free, lap of luxury.

“Noted.”

Getting around the house was also an interesting event. As Bear found himself concerned about breaking the enclosure upon turning back. Archibald had left, though he left some food out for them when they were hungry. Soon enough, Richter guided him to the floor.

Only, the human seamed more than happy to sprint around the house at top speed. What once seamed like a joyous jog, now showed it’s self to be an all out bolt. Occasionally, to get to some place, Richter would take a flying leap. Shimmying up some of the ropes he’d been provided with ease.

“And only now, do I understand how damn athletic you are.” Bear sighed.

Richter glared from his position on the table. “What I can’t understand, is how you’re struggling so much. Come on! It’s not that hard.”

“Richter! I eat trees and eggs. Things that don’t tend to run away!” The giants hands waved in the air indignantly. Shortly before he awkwardly shimmied up the leg of a chair. Then pulled himself onto one of the ornate edges of the table.

Scrambling to the top. He gasped for air. Beard fluttering in and out with every breath. Richter just chuckled and slumped in front of the man. “I’d help ya, but you’re still bigger than me.” A cheeky grin spread over that humans face. Bear just scowled.

“Well. I know this table’s nice and sturdy. And nothing’s gonna break here. so....” Bears arms snagged around the human as they dropped to the edge of the table. His chin tucked over the mans head. “Now we wait.”

Richter went expectantly limp. Laying on Bear’s lap shamelessly. Shutting his eyes. “Yeah okay.” The man gave no resistance as he was held close. Bear began to grow concerned for Richter’s mental state. Only to find that his small companion had fallen asleep.

Did he get any the night before? Was this all because he was so exhausted? Richters snoring, usually tiny and adorable, rattled the man. For something so small, he could make a hell of a noise.  He just looked so peaceful like that.

However, it was a trap. Bear was now stuck with a sleeping human in his lap. For FOUR HOURS. The ultimate power move. The human was still sleeping. Bear sighed. Reaching to play with Richters hair. It was rare when he could do this. May as well make the most of it.

As expected, it was incredibly soft. Even a bit fluffy. A hand shot up and gripped at Bears wrists. Richter looked pissed.  “Okay. Last time I’m warning you.” The man glared. “Contact to my head hurts like fuck. So don’t touch it.”

“Oh. Sorry. Could you get off my legs now?”  Richter settled for sleeping in an empty butter dish. Clean, but left upright. Apparently the cold glass was pleasant. Bear didn’t understand it. Deciding it was a human thing, he returned to his waiting. Watching the window from his vantage on the table.

“You know.” Bear was jarred from his thoughts once more. “All in all. No matter how this thing goes. It’d be nice to still hang out like this.” Richters eyes landed on Bear. Who in turn, nodded.

“Yeah. Maybe not exactly like this. I’d rather you NOT sleep in a butter dish next time.” The giant turned with a laugh.

“Oh screw that. I’ll sleep in ALL the dishes eventually.” Bear had no doubt he would. Richters laughter said it all. Well. Maybe Bear could snag some cute pictures from all this. Make light of the situation.

[galaxybeginnings]

♨️ - Hot springs (with hot tamale and Euna for a bit of goofiness rather than spiciness since it’s too early for that yet hehehe)

Euna hummed as she had a robe firmly wrapped around herself. It was a rare time when she got to relax like this, especially with how often she worked. But luckily, Miki didn’t need her help with much of anything much this weekend. So, she figured, why not go to a hot spring and loosen up some tense muscles?

She quickly glanced around, hoping nobody else was there before she undid the robe and swiftly slipped into the water, lowering down until it nearly covered her shoulders. The heat already started to loosen the knots she had from the work week and her eyes closed as she let out a soft hum. Mm… this feels great… I can already feel the stress melting away. She mused internally, leaning back against the cool rocks. “I need to make it a habit of being able to come here, I never get a chance to do things like this. I better savor it. Sitting at a desk isn’t good for the back or shoulders—” She murmured a bit out loud as she enjoyed herself.

It didn’t last as she could hear voices approaching and immediately went to hide. Oh… no, no, no… my robe is near the door…! If someone sees it, they’ll know I’m here…! She tried her hardest to remain quiet while the door opened and kept herself pressed against one of the rocks.

Among the men were Akira and Koraku. It was clear that the small group had come from somewhere related to exercising. A few of the guys were messing around as putting each other into headlocks. All of them did have towels around their waists so there was some modesty. Koraku was keeping to himself but he wasn't wearing his glasses this time. He only kept them on when they were at work since other took him more seriously that way. Looking to his boss and childhood friend he showed a rare smile. "You could look a bit happy to finally get some break for once... We haven't spent time with these guys since you took over for your father."

"...they are acting like idiots just because we won." Akira replied to him irritated. They had all been down at one of the fight rings - the first to disable their opponent on the ground was deemed the winner. Of course Akira had taken all his wins with Koraku a close second. The others only had a handful of wins under the belts. One of the guys who had dark navy hair draped his arm over Akira's.

"Yo, man, we can't be fucking flawless like you. I swear your some kind of beast with that speed of yours... Every time anyone is paired against you it's clear they wanna run for it!" The man burst out laughing as he patted his pal's chest. "For once let us little guys enjoy any crumb we get!" Chuckling he joined the others who were crowding around the wash station.

Shaking his head he went straight for the hot spring stepping in and taking a seat. Koraku was already there and relaxing against a large rock. "Don't." Closing his steel eyes he let the water seem into his muscles as he could feel his friends dark eyes staring at him knowingly.

"You should really mind your manners since you never know who could be listening." Koaku just smiled at Akira as he said this. He already knew there was someone else in the water just past the rock he was at. Rather amusing to have such a small little sparrow end up trapped in the men's side of the spring. Clearly someone much of played a horrible prank on the poor thing.

Soon he stood and went to "explore" the rest of the spring. Akira was quietly meditating where he was and the other guys were just sticking close to the large fence between this spring and the woman's. Soon he was on the other side of the rock looking down at the forgotten lost sparrow. Oh, it looks like this was the little one that had mistakenly barked at them not too long ago.

"Seems a foul trick was played on you. What do you plan to do to get out of her and back at the them?" His head tilted a bit, amusement on his face. None of the other's could see them from where he was so it wasn't as if they would be coming to see who he was directing his attention to.

"Or," he leaned over her looking down at her from above. "Care to accept some help?" A pleasant smile was on his face as he gave his innocent looking question to her. How would she answer? Would she scold him? Try to run risking being scene by the others? Or accept his help with who knows what stings could be attached.

[stompsite]

Can Violence Be Okay?

As some of you know, I’m basically gonna die real soon unless I can get heart surgery, but that’s expensive. I make money by writing essays about games. If you like my work, please share it around, because personally, I’d like to keep on living. If you wanna support me, I’ve got patreon, ko-fi, and a critically acclaimed game out. I’m also looking for work as a designer or writer, so if you know of anything, let me know, please? I’ve worked on well over a dozen AAA and indie games doing everything from emergency script rewrites to helping devs improve their investment loops. I’ve put a lot of time into the 29 years of my life so far, and I’d like it to pay off, lol. But seriously, my mortality is distressing, so if you know how I can get my heart fixed and put a roof over my head, I want to hear from you! 

Dishonored 2 is one of my favorite games. I’ve written about it at length before. I’ve talked about some of my problems with the game (doing the right thing in D2 feels like an easy choice compared to D1), but I mean, man, I still love it. When it first dropped, though? Man. I had A Problem with it.

Dishonored 2 was so good until I got to the end and got an ending that didn’t match up with my feeling of where I was at when playing the game. There I was, being the best Corvo I could be, running around trying to save my daughter Emily, realizing how bad things had got in Karnaca while I’d been away, and wanting to do my best to keep everyone safe and improve the empire.

At the end, the game told me that Corvo ruled the islands with an iron fist. What had happened? Why was it doing this to me? I didn’t ghost every level, but I certainly approached things non-lethally where I could.

Turns out that the game doesn’t like it when you kill monsters.

I mean, sure, if you kill, like, a rat, the game doesn’t seem to care, but if you kill a witch, the game gets mad. Apparently, the game considers witches to be people. I did not--I felt the game had led me to believe that witches weren’t actually people. So when I made the choice to kill them, the game saw it as Corvo choosing the path of violence… but that’s not the decision I made.

Let’s rewind a bit.

One of my favorite story archetypes is about people without power who, through cleverness, ingenuity, and grit, overcome those with power. It’s not just about being an underdog, it’s about being underestimated, devalued, even downright abused. It’s about the defiance that comes with that, and overcoming the expectations someone has.

I don’t know exactly why, but I’ve always liked these kinds of stories. It frustrated me to watch my wealthier peers pick on the poorer ones. It insulted me when I was essentially told “wow, it’s remarkable that you’re so intelligent for someone so poor” after I won a scholarship. I had to protect two disabled students from one of the richer students in school because he wanted something they had and they didn’t want to give it to him. I have watched people with power hurt and abuse those without. Heck, I’ve been at the mercy of people more powerful than me before. I don’t like that. When I can tell someone’s struggling with the power dynamics of a group, I do my best to help them feel more comfortable in that space.

One thing I liked about the first Dishonored game is that the Empress, Jessamine, is portrayed as a good person who wanted to do right by her people, but she was actively sabotaged, and eventually murdered, by the nobles whose power she threatened. That kind of story is alluring to me; getting justice for Jessamine and delivering Dunwall from the powerful, punching up like that… that’s awesome as heck.

It was kinda weird when Dishonored 2 shows up and indicates that maybe Dunwall didn’t actually improve that much after the nobility was killed off/not killed off (I was mostly nonlethal the first time). D2 never really confronts this head on, at least that I can recall. Instead, it feels like two different stories. There’s the personal story of “someone hurt your family and took your home and you should take it back,” and then there’s the idea of “you’re fighting for justice for people who are downtrodden by the people who took your home.”

These are both great, but after the fact, it did seem kinda strange that Corvo, literally the dad of the Emperor, as upper-class as you can get, is playing the part of the underdog (or Emily herself, who I haven’t played because I wanted to hear Stephen Russell’s voice again). Like, there’s this implication that he and Emily haven’t really fixed anything at all and maybe kinda betrayed Jessamine’s legacy with that? I dunno. It’s really the only criticism I have of Dishonored 2 anymore, and I mean, the game’s still a 10/10 for me. It’s one of the only games that can grab hold of my attention and actually distract me from the pain I’m in.

Arkane has done such an amazing job with their games; I get to be someone else for a while. I can block out the health problems for a while and just fall into another space and experience relief from my awful life. I will never be able to thank everyone there for making such pure and wonderful games.

So Dishonored 2 has this kinda odd relationship with privilege and power and how it contextualizes its protagonists, but then along came Death of the Outsider, which solved this problem by letting you play as Billie Lurk, who, for my money, is the best protagonist in Dishonored history. I love playing as Billie. I love that she’s not an upper class person, just a normal person with cool tools and powers.

Anywho, back to the violence.

So, one thing I love about Arkane games is that they have amazing gamefeel. It’s like saying a drink is smooth, right? Like, it just feels right. I’ve never played an Arkane game that felt bad (maybe Arx Fatalis does, but I’ve never played it!), and I feel like, with every successive release, they only get better at making great gamefeel. Buuuuuuttt… it feels like since Dishonored, every Arkane game is a test. You can’t just do what feels good; you’re taking a test.

When the witches came along, I’m not gonna lie, it felt good to let loose. They’re just as powerful as I am, so it’s not like it’s an uneven playing field.

But… that wasn’t my first reaction. I’d encountered the witches before in The Knife of Dunwall and The Witches of Brigmore, and they’re portrayed in those games as unequivocally bad. Still, for Dishonored 2, I was trying to play stealthy and nonlethally, so I decided to knock them out at first. When I found out I could take their powers in one mission, I decided to try that, and then figured that when Corvo stopped Delilah, he’d probably arrest them or something.

Then, an unfortunate bug occurred (kudos to Arkane for fixing it really quickly! I think they had it solved in a couple days or something amazing like that) where some of the witches were dying when I was trying to render them unconscious. I couldn’t get the nonlethal option to work.

But I wasn’t that concerned, because I felt the witches needed to be killed.

Why?

Because they’re horrible, and I think they seem closer to Vampires--supernatural monsters--than people. 

I mean, listen to their dialogue. Look at what they do to the people they kill. They even backstab each other--one of their idle dialogues is about stealing from another. Another is about brushing her sister’s hair so she can gain trust and then stab her sister in the throat. The witches are hostile too--it’s not possible to approach them peacefully. They react to you like you’ve just invaded their vampiric crypt.

The mechanics don’t really leave room for interacting with them sympathetically; there’s no chance to talk to them, work with them, or anything. You can knock them unconscious, but it feels weird, even unconscionable to do that to people who are talking about stabbing each other in the throat.

I’m okay with knocking someone out when the heart says something like “He wasn't always like this. One of his works still hangs in a museum,” or “If he looks sad, it is because he mourns the child he lost,” but I had to look up a list of the heart’s lines about the witches because I couldn’t think of a time when the heart ever said anything good about a single one of the witches.

So, they have magical powers, want to do nothing but kill us, and they’re even happy to kill each other too. Read some of the notes--it’s indicated that they’re sadists. They take delight in killing anyone and everyone. The environmental storytelling seems to indicate the same thing; nothing good comes of a witch’s presence.

When I first did my quick gut-reaction post about Dishonored 2, I fumbled to articulate why Delilah bugged me. I felt like the game tried to excuse her at every turn. She had a bad life. She was a bastard child and treated poorly. Given my propensity for liking underdogs who were underestimated and mistreated, you might think I’d like her too. But I saw what she did. I saw what she’d chosen to become.

Many of the witches are contextualized in this way. I think the actual target of the museum mission--sorry, I’ve forgotten her name, it was 18 months ago--has this whole long backstory about being a rich lady who was going to get married off to a man she didn’t love who was kind of a shitty person anyways.

In reading all of the lines in the game that the heart has for witches, most of them are about enjoying drinking blood, murdering families, and abusing children. One woman struggles to remember the person she was before, but that reminds me more of a vampire’s thrall than anything else, and the game never does anything with that. No “please, I don’t want to do this,” or anything.

They became witches, and are now visiting a far greater violence upon the Empire. As one of my friends pointed out--and I’m inclined to agree--the Empire kind of deserves it, at least in Dishonored 2. It’s not a good society. I mean, it’s weirdly forward thinking in some ways, right? Like literally all of the romantic fiction I’ve encountered in the universe is LGBT stuff. But then in other ways it’s a mirror of the 19th Century British Empire, abusing people and nature in equal measure. Like I said, Jessamine seemed to be trying to fix those things, but she died, and Dishonored 2 indicates that Emily shirked her responsibilities to be a better Empress.

But.

I mean.

Literally all of the heart dialogue we have for them paints them as bad people. The nicest person we have is one who despairs because it’s easier to hurt people with each passing month.

One of my friends has argued that these were all women who were mistreated or whatever, but the heart doesn’t tell us about that. It isn’t saying “her husband used to beat her, so she relishes the power she has” or anything. None of these lines speak to a culture of misogynistic violence. Instead, we have a woman who “spent a month killing those who had slighted her.”

Slighted.

Not abused, beat, hurt. Slighted.

There is, as far as I’ve seen, precisely one person who was a victim: “Beaten and abused, she was barely sane when she heard the coven's call. Now she does the same to others, wielding her power like a barbed whip.”

I’ve been abused. It’s not something I like to talk about at length, but I was molested by an adult male (thankfully not my parents!) at the age of 11. I was abused by an ex who wanted to destroy me the way her mother had destroyed her, and those actions included gaslighting, emotional blackmail, and a ton of other things I don’t really want to talk about. I’ve been physically and emotionally abused for my genetic shortcomings.

I learned, a very long time ago, that almost all abuse comes from people who were abused. I’ve met people who are very angry, and I’ve heard people say “ah, well, it’s okay for them to lash out, because they were abused, so it’s only natural.” Heck, I’ve been one of the people who lashed out. It was only an emotional outburst, but it remains one of the worst things I’ve ever done. I will never stop regretting it.

I understand wanting justice. I understand wanting someone to hurt for what they did to you. I still have nightmares I don’t talk about. I’ve sat with friends who’ve had it so much worse than me and done everything in my power to give them what comfort I can.

But the witches are different. They chose power. And they chose vengeance. Should we justify that? Would I be justified if I started murdering everyone who looked or seemed like the people who had wronged me? Does anything excuse the murder of a bunch of academics in a Karnacan museum? The witches speak with sadistic dialogue. One of the notes left behind by someone trying to hide in the game’s final level makes it abundantly clear that their behaviors are monstrous.

So. Uh.

Look at Gary Oldman’s Dracula.

Dracula’s whole thing is actually super sad, right? Like, the love of his life died while he was out fighting bad dudes. She was tricked into committing suicide, so he renounces God and gets cursed into becoming a monster. His origins are tragic. It’s unfair what happened to him. But I mean, he still murders people and stuff. Dude’s gotta get stabbed in the heart. Sure, it’s cool that his wife got reincarnated as Mina Harker and all, but his whole kidnapping her and trying to turn her into one of his thralls is still bad.

The reason that killing Dracula is good is because Dracula has power and he is a monster. These witches have power and they are monsters. They hurt people--not just the ones who deserve it, but the ones who don’t. In the Brigmore witches, it sure as heck appears to be that they’re preying on the poor. It’s not like they’re out there fighting a revolutionary war against the nobility, and that their magical powers tip the scale. No, they’re killing everyone, even like… public works dudes. It’s an indiscriminate process. They’re killing people they don’t even know.

What makes them not monsters? They have power, and they use that power with cruelty. Dishonored’s world is not a good one to live in, but there is nothing the heart has for us that says that these women were victims. In many cases, they were perpetrators before they got their powers.

Corvo may be kind of a shitty ruler, by seeing a ton of problems during the time of Dishonored 1 and not addressing them leading up to Dishonored 2, but he’s one of the only people who can actually fight a witch; I think the only people actually capable of fighting them are the creepy religious zealots who enjoy torturing people for fun (why didn’t Corvo shut that down?).

So I was thinking about all of this when I killed the witches. They weren’t human anymore. They were indiscriminately murdering anyone who stopped them. Their leader, Delilah, had been portrayed in two stories already as a monster, and while her backstory was tragic, she took that tragedy and used it to excuse being a murderous monster, who ruined the lives of everyone she met, regardless of who they were.

I would have had a much harder time squaring off against a witch who was using her powers to put a stop to her abuser. Like, I, personally, would probably not hunt down the man who hurt me as a kid and put a sledgehammer through his brains, but I mean, in a game, if a witch went to murder a man who molested her, I definitely would be treating her like a person.

These witches, I felt, after listening to them talk, listening to the heart, and watching them act so casually around the bodies of the people they murdered, weren’t out for justice. They weren’t trying to fight back against an oppressive and cruel society. They were monsters. When a witch is wandering around talking about going for a swim later or wondering how the new girl’s doing, it might seem fine, but to be so casual as she walks past a pile of bodies… that’s monstrous. Murder is not a casual act.

Corvo (or Emily, if you played as her) is the only person who can stop the witches, even if you reject the Outsider’s gifts and play without any powers at all. They outclass everyone else, and they kill for the thrill. Someone has to stop them. It’s urgent.

A friend of mine got really upset with me for killing the witches. He said that these were women who’d been mistreated and society deserved to burn. But I mean… if you’re a random guy in a library, are you gonna be able to stop a squad of guards who throw innocent people in prison, kill people’s dogs for meat to sell, or murder innocent people? What about a groundskeeper? What can he do?

The game does not, as far as I can tell, back up the assertion that the witches were victims given power. There is no justice--they’re psychopaths who tortured children and animals, who murdered families, who relish in the carnage. The few women seen as good are losing those memories. Their existence as witches is a tragic one at best, and they’re so reminiscent of horror characters who lose themselves through possession or vampirism that I don’t know how to justify refusing to stop them.

A cop once told me about how he fought a man on PCP. The man had beaten his partner unconscious and was trying to choke him to death. Apparently this huge guy didn’t even feel their tazers and they weren’t supposed to shoot him. This cop ended up in a knock-down, drag out brawl with a man who wasn’t feeling any pain. He ended up bashing a pyrex bowl over the guy’s head so hard it shattered before backup arrived. He told me “if I could have shot him, I think I would have.”

To me, this brings up the question: is it possible to be violent in a game for a constructive purpose? There’s that old quote, misattributed to Orwell, that says something like “we sleep soundly in our beds at night because there are men who visit violence upon those who would do us harm.”

I must admit, I’d love future Dishonored games that involved dismantling the monarchy and trying to find a better, fairer government. I’d love to visit Pandyssia and dismantle traditional colonialist tropes. I’d like to grapple with questions about the ethics of violence, because that’s a subject that interests me on a personal level.

But I must admit, I was surprised when Dishonored 2 did everything to portray its witches as these inhuman, incredibly powerful beings, and then punished me for trying to protect the weak from their unbridled power. To me, my actions were heroic, because I was fighting a corrupted and almost unstoppable power in order protect the innocent. This is a game that let me save Aramis Stilton, a man who had fought for workers rights and was destroyed by the Duke for it.

(as an aside, I love Stilton; he grew up poor and earned his wealth honestly. He earned everything he had, so of course the nobility didn’t think he deserved it, because rich people think the only honest way to have money is to receive it from one’s parents. He never forgot where he came from and tried to do right by his workers, so the nobility destroyed him for it. Restoring his mind through time shenanigans is one of the most… most right things I have ever done in a game. I felt fortunate to be given that option)

I think, if the witches were human, if they were victims who deserved better, then the game should have supported that through its mechanics and narrative. But the heart--which, last I knew, told the truth--told me that they were monsters, and those that weren’t had lost their humanity and were on their way to becoming monsters.

I would love other ways to solve problems. When the heart tells me that this man beats his son so hard his bruises last a month, I want to put a stop to it. But what can I do? My only verbs are “knock out” or “murder.” Should I knock out a monster that rejoices in slaughter? Or should I put it down so that it won’t kill again?

Dishonored 2 is one of my favorite games of all time, but I felt that the ending only considered whether I had performed violence, not whether that violence needed to be performed. In my own life, I went through hell and chose not to come out of it a monster. I don’t know how to justify these women performing child abuse, animal abuse, and murder. Like vampires, they are monsters. No matter how tragic their origins, they prey on the weak and defenseless. I don’t like violence, but I think maybe there are times when it’s an unfortunate requirement. They might have been powerless at one point, but in the game, their actions showed they did nothing but punch down. Personally, I think we should punch up or not at all.

[jatamansi-arc]

as of today, i no longer have any biological siblings. also, uh, if anyone asks how i was conceived, i’m just going to say that the devil was likely involved. i’m done, officially, with my dad’s side of the family.

if you’re new, my mom almost died last week. here’s a caringbridge, it tells y’all about what’s going on. i’ve talked about it here, too, but there’s a lot of that. i guess some recent one are here and here, but long story: mom was in icu, almost died. bad shit all around. 

to make a long story very short before i put a cut in, i gave my sister a link to my caringbridge website. and some context? i told my dad to knock off his attitude earlier in the week, because he was being very rude to my grandmother and me and several other people.

then, uh. this happened today.

Me: Here's a CaringBridge for my mom, just fyi: www.caringbridge.org/visit/catkinson57

Sister:  Dad keeps me updated. I'll look at the site, but think I know enough between him and grama! Are you sure you can handle doing all this for your mom on top of trying to manage your own disabilities? Maybe she should have an advocate, a neutral person who can help her make life choices and care choices? That frees you up to do what you need to and she can get the help she needs to make sure she stays healthy. She can't be around a bunch of people who are gonna enable her right now so she can get healthy, or she might die Felicia. Like that scares the shit out of me. She needs some tough love. You need to just focusing on getting your stuff together so you can be stable and she needs to focus on learning how to do what she needs to do now with her current situation. I just don't know.

Me:  I am capable of handling it, and I'm capable of stepping back when I need to. Her social workers and care team have been a joke, so I have taken the reins when they haven't. I don't think Dad thinks I know what I'm doing but I have friends who are actually doctors who have hands on experience with this and they give me advice, too. I literally have about 4" of every single doctor note that I read every day. The only thing I don't have is her medication list yet and I'm getting that tomorrow. I am the furthest thing from enabling, either. I was the first one who suggested sepsis because I could tell from her low grade fever and delirium, but wasn't taken seriously. I'm usually, hilariously enough, more right than I'm wrong. I have a really natural talent for medical work. I just don't have the stamina because of the Ehlers Danlos. And thankfully, despite the stress, I manage to stay disassociated just enough to stay objective but not like... robotic? Enough to function and then to let it out when I need to. But I'm actually the hardass, lol. Once she's in the hands of someone I trust, I will lighten the reins. I haven't met anyone who has given me the impression they deserve it yet. Once she's back in homecare and gets a good nurse or two I'm familiar with here, that will be good. And a local case manager who can meet with her like I have with Nadja, who is actively working on her case and paying attention. I got sick for four days and couldn't get out of bed and she nearly died, so that definitely isn't going to happen again. Sister:  Ok Felicia. It's in your hands. And the enabling I am speaking of is people handing her mozzarella sticks and chicken nuggets when she is supposed to be on a liquid diet. These are the things that are going to keep causing set backs, along with her own seeming unwillingness to take care of herself the way she needs to so she doesn't get infections, i can't. I'm out. You and your brother have a lot in common. My hands are up.

Me:  So, fun fact about the food: I didn't give it to her. Nicole was visiting and told by the nursing staff erroneously that mom could have solid food at that point Nicole let her have 1-2 of each of them. I had nothing to do with it and literally didn't hear about it until my mom jokingly told me a day later that they dun goofed. 

Also, she does take care of herself to not get infections. Her PICC line was infected by the care facility's substandard care. The hematoma ended up being an abscess that had not come to the surface.

How would you feel if someone was treating you this way after something similar? Dad has not been nice to me about any of this, he doesn't listen to me about anything I say about her delirium, for example, because he may talk to her several hours after the medication kicks in. He doesn't hear the frantic calls in the morning begging for help when she was hallucinating. It is incredibly frustrating not to be taken seriously.

Sister:  Felicia, I can't even read this. Everything turns into being about you. Here's my point I was getting to yesterday, if you are capable of taking care of your mom and yourself with your own disabilities you are able to work and not be ripping off the social security system. In yesterday's message you listed all these things you are qualified to do, yet you can't work to provide for yourself, you spend your moms money all Willy Nilly, and you let people hand her mozzarella sticks and chicken nuggets knowing god damn well it could send her right back down the hole and everything has to start over again. You have zero training as a mental health practitioner, can I see the schooling? Or as a health care practitioner, definitely need school from that. I'm sure allbthr online reading to study up on symptoms to play the ssi system has helped you understand mental health better but does not qualify you as a mental health practitioner. If she was being taken care of properly she wouldn't be having hallucinations, she has NO REASON to be taking psych meds, and a huge part of me wants to call social services and report elder abuse. Your mom needs an advocate who is only concerned about her. You have turned every single thing about this into it being about you, you needing this and that, cable bills. Woman, I have been out of work over a year with a legit injury that causes me so much fucking pain that getting trough a day with just a small reduction is amazing, I need to essentially have my entire spine fused. But I ain't running around asking everyone to pay my bills and scam systems. If you can't take full time card of your mom, make all her appointments and do everything she needs, you can work. And they will even PAY you for it, it's called home health care.

Your mom raised me. Your not gonna convince me of some bullshit and keep skirting around the issue. If she was being taken care of properly and nobody was giving her food she shouldn't have she wouldn't have just about died and be where she is. If that's the kind of care your providing it's sub standard. Makes me think you don't care if she loves or dies. I would smack THE FUCK out of anyone who even tried to hand her food, she ain't supposed to have it. It's like taking care of a kid in the way such as you know they want it but it's not good for them so you have to say no. I'm getting super mad now, I want to come speak face to face, but I would lose my temper. I don't go there and visit because I don't want to be around either you or Nicole, you both just bleh, gross.

Now I'm going to do what I need to to take care of my Dad, whom you seem to be carrying on with, and if he has another heart attack because you wanna play miss know it all and keep not listening to everyone else because you are miss know everything, just like Larry, then I'm really gonna be pissed. Do you know you could be reported for spending your moms money? Get your shot together, stop arguing with everyone and pretending you have a phd in everything, and do what's right by your mother and stop arguing with my fucking dad. If you can't say anything nice keep your mouth shut. They are all trying to help YOU, to help YOUR mother, whom at this point I think you don't care lives or dies, we all love her, grama barb raised your mom from 14. I'm sure the love she feels for cheryl would be much like that of a mothers love for her own child. Just fucking stop. Everyone keeps calling me and I have stayed out of it til today, but tomorrow I can start making some calls to social services and see what can legally be done cuz all this back and forth your doing with everyone just to try to prove your right, just like Larry, ain't helping mom, that's only Felicia wanting pity cuz poor her she's got all these weird diseases nobodies ever heard of and ptsd cuz of a lil break in, yet you only seem to be affect at the mention of the word JOB. Go to any weird costume festival and party it up tho.... sick.

Requirements to call yourself a mental health practitioner. I know you have none of this schooling. I will be reporting this. Stop telling people you are qualified to do that!!!

Me:  I never said I was a mental health practitioner. What I said was that mom's delirium diagnosis and Zyprexa was provided by a mental health practitioner. Dad is like, not telling you correct information. I am not kidding you. I can not repeatedly emphasis this. Also, you cannot keep repeatedly being me up and then tell me I am making it about myself. That's gaslighting, Joy. Cut it out.

Also, I didn't spend my mom's money 'Willy nilly.' I used it to buy her supplies and to visit her in the hospital?

and karma apparently bit her in the ass fairly quickly after this happened, because she was called about five hours after all this happened and was notified her biopsy came back and she had breast cancer. sucks, but you kind of just told me i was faking my illnesses, am allergic to working (odd that i have two jobs and she has none), said my break-in was minor (I WAS ALMOST FUCKING STRANGLED TO DEATH BY A COMPLETE STRANGER WHO WAS DRUNK), compared me to my biological half-brother (her full sibling) who is a fucking child rapist and who i want nothing to do with WHATSOFUCKINGEVER and of course i wanted my mom dead so uh, well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

sorry for ur cancer but ur still a fucking cuntcake in this instance, sry

but here’s some gems of mockery from my fb:

Sammy Plenskie (Me)

i am going to laugh really hard if she calls to report me to elder abuse because it's me, a 31 year old living very graciously with her 60 year old mom and her disabled 61 "uncle" (aka godfather) with lymphoma. and both of them are not, by any definition, "vulnerable."

my mother literally just told me twenty minutes ago that when her ltd came next week, i was under the order to go get the tattoo i wanted but only if i came and showed her immediately after.

like my mom is a biker, dudes. she could have fucking benched me before this happened.

Nicole ***

Well my bad this is bull shit I was told by one of the nurses Eric about her being on solid diet... so I apologize for any miscommunication and don't worry since it's such a big deal about me going up that and being a enabler I won't go back up to the hospital again... I will stay away

Sammy Plenskie 

I ain't mad about it at all, man. Shit happens. Like I said, both you and the nurse were under the impression she had been transitioned over and then were like OH SHIT WAIT CRAP like immediately afterwards. It happens. Joy is making it like you personally injected MRSA into the chicken nuggets and stuffed them into her otsomy bag while screaming "GET SEPSIS SO I CAN GET THE LIFE INSURANCE, BITCH!!!!!"

You were probably dressed like Dean Winchester, though. Because we're freaks who go to those weird parties where people dress up.

as opposed to those parties where... people get dressed up and drink just to get... oh wait

Sammy Plenskie 

Please remember that no matter what my sister says about you, at least you didn't reach your career's high point on the stage left of BJ's Liquor Lounge, okay.

Sammy Plenskie

I was going to say: [ Family Name ], care about money? THE [ FN ] LINE FROM WHICH WE DESCEND CAME OVER IN BOXES AND A LITTLE TOUCHED IN THE HEAD FROM THE PROCESS, AND LORD GRANTING US, WE SHALL NEVER RISE ABOVE OUR STATION. FOREVER WE SHALL BE POOR AS SHIT AND A CRAZY AS A BAG FULL OF BATS. IT HAS MADE US RESPECTABLE, MOSTLY. I, personally, know that I can punch you to the face with a dildo and you will take it like a champ without reporting my ass some human services division of the city. Who the fuck, even?