#the balance has to come down

[fazcinatingblog]

sophia only rang twice while i was at my friend's for lunch and the new girl only rang a couple of times as well, see, annual leave isn't so bad

[auxxrat]

so sick and tired of the “jedi are an evil and abusive cult that steals children” as if half the reason they weren’t protecting these children is bc sith were out killing them or TURNING THEM INTO SITH. they weren’t even STEALING children to begin with I thought we all knew that was Palpatine’s game not Yoda’s.

[s0fter-sin]

something happening on a mission, something personal that has soap spiralling; panic and rage making him reckless, thoughtless, and ghost has to draw the line

“you’re compromised johnny; you know what that means?”

“you’re not pulling me out,” soap immediately snarls. he turns on him and ghost barely recognises him; venomous fear turning his eyes to unyielding ice. "you're not sidelining me; i need to be in this-!"

but ghost has never been afraid of venom; spat or dripped straight from bared fangs.

he snakes out a hand grip the back of his neck, jerking him in a rough shake. "if you can't think, you can't be a soldier," he growls and he flinches like he's been struck.

his lips quiver as they twist in a sneer and he wrenches, trying to free himself of his hold.

ghost doesn't let him.

"it means you give your body to me because your head ain't fucking attached to it anymore."

soap stills, body trembling beneath his hand as he sucks in shaking breaths.

he tightens his grip, pulling him closer and digs his forehead hard into his. “it means you give yourself to me so i can have the weapon that you are and use you the way you're meant to be used."

the ice in soap's eyes fractures.

ghost’s voice drops to a whisper, spoken only to johnny, not this facade of vengeance and pain, and wills it to reach him through the glaciers.

“so i can keep you safe ‘til it’s done and i can bring you back.”

[chthonic-cassandra]

One of the unanticipated difficulties of this new experience of integration is that I rather need to relearn my filters, since now it much more frequently occurs to me to make comments and jokes related to my own history which would be wildly inappropriate.

In conversations about [insert various topics] I cannot just tell people, "what [x] always said about this was..." That would make people very deeply uncomfortable! They would not want to hear it! But now that I am experiencing him more as an actual part of my life, the wish to say these things is a lot stronger.

[capricioussun]

Luck and Cue!! I love those guys!

I'll start with what they do! Cue handles the more professional stuff, and inner workings of the family, while Luck is more like an ambassador, checking in on local business they're "partnered" with, befriending even those they're not, doing his best to make Aster a name with predominantly positive association for most.

Honestly not too dissimilar to how the Mafiafell brothers' work dynamic functions, too, except Cue handles the more official publicity type of stuff, and Luck usually handles the, uh. "Sensitive matters".

As for their relationship, it's still pretty good, if maybe a bit more distant than classic US. They do still look out for each other, that loyalty is absolutely still there, but things are just...a little stilted between them. Almost not as close as brothers, sort of more like very good old friends, but not entirely. A little hard to explain, but they do know each other very well, even with the rift that'd grown after having the torch passed to them.

Luck is a bit of a brat and loves to do things for the sole purpose of annoying Cue, however he learned very early on Cue wouldn't bail him out if he really wanted to teach him a lesson and is careful about taking things "too far".

Cue, while caring deeply for his brother, feels like entertaining his more rebellious nature is just coddling or humoring him, and he doesn't want to encourage that, so he can be a bit hard on him, but whose to say that isn't deserved?

They tend to step on each others toes, and neither really wanted to live this kind of life and sort of had it forced on them unexpectedly, but they cope with that in entirely different ways. Though it's still significantly better for both than it'd be if either had to do it alone, that's for sure

[itspileofgoodthings]

I think the writing is gentle, often funny, and sustained (overall) but it’s the acting and the chemistry that takes it to the next level.

[doedipus]

a large amount of time I've been spending on -untitled undefined scope original fiction project- since the last time I posted about it has been trying to develop the protagonist concept I came up with last summer or whatever into like, a character that would feel real and era appropriate.

it's fun research to do. naturally a lot of the details I assigned to her are things that I already think are cool, so it's been a lot of fun trying to trace her traits back through the relatively recent past, getting reminded of how much things have changed, or where the gaps in my intuition are, and then doing a flurry of reading to get a sense for exactly how someone like her and the people around her could have happened and what her life was probably like leading up to her present day. hopefully this results in some good good verisimilitude.

[jimmyspades]

"When did you have your last abortion? Until you know everything that goes with it, don't you dare lecture me or anybody about–" "I know what goes with it! Obviously I haven't experienced the physical part, but I know the overwhelming emotion that goes with it. I know the sense of loss, I know the doubt, the guilt, so please, don't–" BOSTON LEGAL 5.08 "Roe"

[mainfaggot]

how do you cut someone off

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

on a completely different subject. one thing i really like about the "role-playing" system for ffxiv's story quests (where you're given control of an npc for a gameplay section) is that they frequently have to strip the mechanics of the npc's class/job waaaay down, because they don't want to throw you straight into the deep end of some complex gameplay loop you've never used before, BUT, they also take that opportunity to both rearrange and reskin some of the class abilities that get retained. leading to the implication that the WoL's version of the class isn't actually the only or even the standard version of the class, and that even people who have the same job learn and implement the fighting techniques in slightly different ways. which i think is really fun and makes a lot of sense and is way more fitting than every single samurai or w/e playing the exact same.

[subaerial-dweller]

look mate, i know we're trying to stick to the theme and all, but showing me how to do "show not tell" doesn't seem to be working. please, tell me how to write.

in a coherent form. like, "tips n tricks" buzzfeed style.

i think i'm only half joking at this point.

[justalittlebluetiefling]

Ok I've been editing for like two weeks straight now which included a read over for consistency issues and worldbuilding gaps and structural changes and a general line edit and it's gotten to the point where I feel like I'd be better served by just starting on the second draft but there is some weird paralyzing fear re: actually starting on the second draft.

[awkwardknight]

Here's an unarmoured dragon!AK

[blackjackkent]

So, what Rakha really wants to do right now is go kill the people hunting Karlach, because they don't have anything else that would qualify as a direct plan other than the creche, and the "paladins" are closer. However, I happen to know that the paladins are level five and Rakha is level 2 and could be knocked over by a stiff breeze, so I think a better bet is a more full exploration of the Emerald Grove first.

I'm guessing that this is the result of a concerted effort on Wyll and Shadowheart's part, primarily - Wyll already knows the people of the grove and Shadowheart has fixated on Halsin as a useful lead. Gale doesn't seem to have any specific plan in mind and, left to their own devices, Lae'zel would already be heading for the creche and Rakha and Karlach would be after the paladins. But between them, Shadowheart and Wyll manage to convince everyone that at least TALKING to the healer in the grove would be a useful start before everyone goes off half-cocked.

Amused because I stopped in to talk to Zevlor and got a disapproval from Wyll purely for leaving the conversation without asking the question about whether the ritual could be stopped. XD Sorry, Wyll. I swear we'll get to a point where you like Rakha, somehow, but I doubt sincerely we're there yet.

Speaking of the ritual, down we go to the grove proper - with a quick stop to talk to the teeth-ling kids.

"Whoa. Hey! Can't say I've ever seen someone like you before."

Without preamble, he shows his hands to her, empty. Then a quick flick of the wrist, and suddenly he's holding out a tarnished gold ring between his fingers.

"Go on," he says cheerfully. "Take this ring. It's lucky."

Rakha, who has very little context for anything she experiences, has never seen slight-of-hand magic done before, nor is she familiar with the concept of a con man. So she watches this little display and is immediately fascinated. Magic - but with no surge of that visible tapestry around the boy, the network of power that Gale calls the Weave.

How?

"That was a fancy trick," she says slowly.

His eyes narrow and something subtle shifts in his expression, a flash of interest. "You haven't seen anything yet, lady," he says dryly. "Go on - take the ring and watch your fortune change!"

Take the ring.

She takes it and looks at it carefully. There is no magic on the ring either, nothing that she can sense. But the boy looks up at her earnestly as he draws a coin from his pocket. "Call it! Heads or tails."

She blinks at him, puzzled by the question.

Pocket the ring.

"Hey, hold on!" the boy cries at once. "You gotta pay for that!"

She does? She withdraws the ring out of her pocket again and squints at the boy, incredibly baffled by the entire situation.

("The boy seeks to deceive you," Lae'zel says impatiently under her breath. "His magic is mundanity. The ring likely the same."

Wyll sighs. "Be kind, the both of you. He wants to show you a trick, that's all. Let him flip the coin.")

Rakha's eyes narrow. She stands there with the ring sitting on her palm and feels foolish. "It's only a joke," she says slowly after a long silence and trying to sort through the words from her companions. "Go on... flip your coin." If anything, she is curious to learn what that means.

"Real sweet sense of humor you got there, chum." The boy looks as if he's starting to regret his choice of mark, but he presses on gamely. "Anyway, you gotta call before the flip. Heads or tails."

A long pause. "Heads?" Rakha says cautiously.

The boy grins, tosses the coin in the air, catches it, and then shows her the side with the head facing up. "Heads it is!" he crows. "See? That's the kinda luck you get from just one of my lucky rings! I've got more where that came from. Real cheap, too. Interested?"

Rakha is starting to understand the situation now that she has seen it play out, and her lips twitch with irritation. [SORCERER] "If there was magic in this ring, I'd have felt it," she says bluntly. "It's nothing but junk."

The boy flinches and raises his hands defensively. "Not so loud!" he hisses. "You caught me, all right? They're not lucky rings." His eyes grow wide, his expression twisting with sudden, exaggerated pathos. "I'm just... trying to earn money for my family," he whimpers. "My father left and my mother... she's so sick. I wish I had better things to sell than... trinkets, but it's all I have!"

Rakha squints. The shift in tone is abrupt enough that she is certain it's disingenuous and that Lae'zel is right - the boy is making a fool of her. There is nothing of value here.

Wordlessly she shoves the ring back in the boy's face.

Return the ring and leave.

[unboundtravels]

SHORT TRIPS; UNBOUNDNOVEMBER 21/23: TWILIGHT

"What about me?" "If there was something I could do about that, I would. I guess we're both just going to have to be brave."

 It feels like it’s raining. Although the clouds hang in the way of the sun, there is still an afternoon afterglow… and yet despite the months still creeping through the midst of summer, the wind is still very cold today in the city of Freedom. There is an almost unanimous silence save for the howling and the whipping of the wind… the beating of the flags that flow through the breeze. The water of the fountain is still, and the lights are low. The world almost looks distinctly colorless… absent of the cool aftertaste that’d follow a pleasant warmth. The world feels more absent today.

The People of Mondstadt did not care much for Lady Eula Lawrence. Her bloodline was responsible for many, if not most of, the issues that plagued Mondstadt so fiercely into its present. To this very day, The Knights of Favonius were working hard to clean up the mess of those who had come before. Of those Knights was Lady Lawrence, who was fiercely dedicated in her pursuit of redemption… and yet she dealt every day with the harsh whispers of those who could not separate the past from the present… those who did not understand the ever-changing nature of the human soul and its relationship to time. 

They were wrong about her. That is the truth of the matter. Eula was a beautiful soul, a kind and dedicated one. She looked out for those in need and did what she could to help the innocent. Considered by many of her allies to be a responsible friend and an excellent warrior, she was supported unconditionally by those under her command. Eula was the best of parts of Humanity condensed into one singular form… not bound by convention… solving her problems in a unique way and handling the world one day at a time. The people of Mondstadt were simply wrong about Eula Lawrence.

When the chips were down, The city of Mondstadt was threatened… when the whole of creation was threatened… Eula stepped forward, to act as a shield for her people and her home. She could’ve turned away, could’ve stood on the sidelines… but it was her nature and her responsibility to put her home first. There was no love lost between her and Mondstadt, but the fact of the matter was that there were people there who were counting on her, and she had to return. No one could fault her for that. Even if they’d fail, at least they’d fail together… and while they were together, nothing could dismay the Knights and their cause.

It feels like it’s raining.

It’s been a week since the threat of Celestia was quelled, and the people of Teyvat were freed from the confines of an oppressive destiny. The road there was not without sacrifice, however… and of those who stood and fought, not all came out intact. Among those who had fought and been claimed by the battle… was Lady Eula Lawrence. She died as she lived: Protecting those who meant the most to her. Her friends— the family she’d made after cutting ties with the clan that she’d disgraced. In the knights, she’d found new meaning and new purpose… or at least, the start of that new purpose, and she was happy. However, that would not stop her fellow Knights from mourning her loss.

The Funeral service ended an hour ago, and Outrider Amber stood near the entrance of the Favonious Headquarters, the wind biting at her skin. She wonders why it feels like it’s raining despite the absence of thunderclouds or rain. Perhaps Barbatos is allowing them to have the feeling and the sensations without the fuss. Amber is allowed to live in denial for just a bit longer, wiping away tears with her thumb as she shudders out an exhale. Despite the fact that the people of Mondstadt had cared very little about Eula, her last act of life had opened eyes and touched hearts. Everyone had been at her funeral… and she’d just escaped the fond wishes and condolences… but The Outrider’s mind was scattered.

The Captain of The Cavalry Guard and The Grandmaster had noted how distracted she’d looked… chalking it up to grief and attempting to comfort the Outrider over the loss of her friend. Although Amber had tried to explain with sincere genuineness that she was simply looking for someone in the crowd. She didn’t see him in the service, she didn’t see him in the wake, and even as the people exited the church and returned to their homes… she didn’t see him. She eventually, almost dejectedly, sat on the steps leading up to The Favonious Headquarters. A sigh escaped her, and her fingers grazed at a wooden box carefully. He was looking for The Spindrift’s companion, as Lady Lawrence had left one more thing for the one her heart belonged to. Amber was almost ready to give up until her eyes saw the crowd thinning… and there, walking toward the gate out of the city…

She was at first taken aback by the fact that she had failed to notice a man not wearing any black, wearing an outfit he’d wear as if it were any other day of the week. A green cargo jacket over a black T-shirt, fingerless cotton gloves, dark denim blue jeans, and high-top sneakers… with a messenger bag strapped across his chest. He had a sun-kissed complexion dotted with many freckles and hair that was swept into an almost bed-razzled look. The Outrider didn’t even hesitate to sprint toward him… to try and catch him before he vanished. 

“Doctor!! Doctor—!!”

She stopped at his side, expecting him to turn away… but when he turned to face her, Amber was again taken aback by The Doctor’s complexion. The Doctor was a very bright individual, usually. With Eula, he was fiery and charismatic… but also on occasion, he was icy and powerful. He clearly wasn’t of this world, and he made no attempt to hide that. She was just taken aback by how neutral his expression was. Numbness, and with eyes that sagged very low. He looked no older than twenty-three, usually. Right now, however, those eyes looked ever so ancient… as if they’d walked circles around the universe thousands of times over. Perhaps this is just genuinely what the man looked like when he was distraught, though… 

“I… didn’t see you at the service.” She started, trying to get any reaction out of him, any sort of sign that he was feeling some type of emotion. He looked like he was on autopilot, just blankly staring at her while he contemplated thousands of thoughts all in the span of a couple of microseconds. She wasn’t sure if she should really force him to stay, as he clearly was just stopping by out of respect for Eula. They had such an incredibly deep connection. In the few months before the catastrophe that recalled Eula home, The Doctor had appeared in Eula’s life almost like a sort of fairytale prince. He dropped from the sky, whisking her off into planets and skies unknown… showing her all sorts of things that defied the laws of logic and imagination. Amber knew, from the way that Eula looked at him…

It was love. In its purest form.

The Doctor needed Eula to find himself in a brave new universe, and Eula needed The Doctor to give her a home where she could truly detach from what defined her on Teyvat. The Doctor had a light in his eyes that ignited a fire within Eula’s heart. They were like sunshine, an unstoppable duo. Eula was gone though, and The Doctor was all alone, now. She saw the way that realization had cemented itself in his mind. She began to understand why The Doctor looked so numb, right now… simply by thinking it through, she saw a man who wanted to lock himself away from the world and cry because the world had become so much colder without his other half. Amber knew now that she should not keep him for long.

“She… wanted you to have this.” Amber found the words sticking in her throat, coming out through chokes. Completing this final request for Eula seemed to cement the realization in her mind that her friend was truly gone. “She—” Amber struggled to recall the details of what Eula had explained to her, about why she’d left The Doctor to return home. She was very vague, as always… but she seemed to allude to… the idea that… she had had no choice. “She knew this was very hard for you, Doctor.”

She saw his face twinge, and that was confirmation enough for her to know that he was not soulless, or on autopilot… but that he was bottling everything up to unleash in a space that was unrestricted and unjudging. She shouldn’t keep him, but she also knew that once he left… she wouldn’t see him again, and the idea of him having no one simply left her a little heartbroken. Amber choked on more words, but she forced them out simply because she knew he needed to hear it.

“She loved you very much.”

She saw another twinge in the face muscle. He acknowledged that but kept his mouth as tightly shut as he could for fear of breaking under the pressure of his own emotions. Hesitantly, he took the wooden box and wordlessly turned away from Amber. She had so much she wanted to say and yet she knew he probably already knew. She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, but he probably already knew that. She wanted to ask him if he was going to be okay but was sure he wouldn’t answer her. She looked for any indication that the man was going to be able to walk back from the edge and was scared to let him go because of it. Although her feet remained planted very firmly at the border of the gate… she watched that man walk toward the Police Box at the end of the bridge, entering it wordlessly.

The sounds of its engines echoed outward as The Box’s lantern began to flash… and the wind cleared so that it could fade away from reality. So many tears were slipping out, now. Amber’s hands remained clenched firmly toward her chest as she watched for a long moment as if she was waiting for something. All she could do was give a prayer to the wind that the man would be safe upon his travels, and that the spirit of freedom would follow him wherever he went. There was a light in his eyes that seemed to spread like an infectious warmth across the universe… The Outrider would be very upset if it went out… as would a great many others, as well.

The TARDIS was quiet. Its hum echoed out like the ticking of a clock in an empty room. Its lights were dimmer, the console quieter. The Wooden box was placed against one of the panels of the console as his jacket rested against the seat nearest to the console. The Doctor reached to flick for switches as the rotor in the center of the room sunk up and down. He wasn’t sure where he was going… but he was just going somewhere. His mind was buzzing with a silence that he couldn’t really describe. It was strange to be alone with his thoughts, especially when they weren’t uttering a single word. A heavy exhale left his chest through his nose as his eyes caught the box when it came into his peripheral.

He almost hesitated to reach for it, because he knew that looking beneath the hinges would cement the reality he was looking to ignore. As soon as he admitted to himself that he wanted to ignore it, he knew that he needed to face it. His hands found the box and he very slowly opened it. Neutral expressions immediately faltered beneath the weight of what the box held. Softened gaze began to tear up as brows furrowed together and a shaky hand reached in for one of the first items. His thumb traced over the glass texture of an extinguished vision. Eula carried it with her at all times… how could he not recognize it? His head tilted softly. It wasn’t indifferent to holding someone’s heart in your hands…

He slid the vision into his pocket, reaching back into the box to pull out the crest of her family. The Doctor had learned much about his human companion to learn about the crest of the Lawrence family, and how much weight it had carried. The fact that she left it for him seemed like a solemn admission that she had wished for more from him. His face softened again as he began to feel pain in his hearts over all the what-ifs that he’d missed. He wasn’t an idiot… he knew that what he’d had with Eula was more than intimate… but he began to feel pain in his chest over all the missed opportunities to tell her just how much she’d meant to him. Pressing the crest to his upper lip softly, he repressed more choked winces as he looked back into the box. 

This next item nearly killed him. He almost hesitated to grab it. Inside the box was a Cecilia that had wilted deeply since she’d given it to him. He knew that he’d kept it close by on the TARDIS, but she must’ve found it and taken it away with her into battle. Now she wanted it to return to its rightful owner. The Doctor’s face had sunken into something so low and deep now that his head felt like it had a weight. When he touched the Cecilia flower, he had to immediately put the box down. It was sort of like touching something that had gone from warm to cold… the realization that there was no more life within an object was cemented by that transition.

The Doctor exhaled, shakily. Tears had begun streaming down his face as he looked toward the rotor. There was silence as he kept his eyes away from anything aside from The Cecilia because looking back at it reminded him of their last conversation. Heal yourself. The memories of every moment he’d ever cherished with The Lady Lawrence crept into his mind and seemed to make every passing second more and more painful… and the tears came down in an abundance that left him a bit blind from the blurry vision. He wiped away the tears with the base of his palm and slid the flower into the control panel of the TARDIS. With his hands empty, he just stared up at the TARDIS rotor and let the tears stream down until he could get a handle on himself. Sometimes he’d stop, thinking that his emotions had finally calmed, only for them to start again. So there was a long silence, where The Doctor stood in silence over the controls and felt his eyes darting across the console room before eventually, he felt himself restraining enough to at least sink back into numbness. He heaved another sigh before he moved to look at where the monitor was taking him. His fingers traced against the vision in his pocket for a moment as his thumb flicked through the monitor’s scans. He needed to just… get back on the road, again. His eyes caught Cecilia again and eventually he just… stared off, again…. Toward the wall. The room felt much emptier without her, and when the realization that Eula Lawrence was truly gone sunk in…

The Console room was deafeningly quiet now. Save for the sound of the engines and the distant sound of the hum. He exhaled, looking down at the controls. History was repeating itself. Of course, it was. It always did. For a moment, sorrow melts into a deeper resentment of himself. The Timelord rests one hand in his pocket whilst he flips various switches and twists various dials before the second hand is deposited into his opposite pocket, and he's left just staring.

Imagine having the power to change whole moments of history. To alter the very fabric of reality. Imagine having the power to move heaven and earth for ordinary people... but never being able to use that power to save the people who really matter the most to you. Imagine being left with a gaping hole in your chest every time you re-enter this console room by yourself, knowing the home someone else had made for themselves was within yours... and realizing that life has just gone back to the bitterness of what it had been before.

The last time he was alone, he was wearing someone else's face. He had made connections, gained new titles, and lost just as much. He'd endured pain, suffering, and heartache. He'd seen the top of the mountain, breathed the clean air of victory, and lived out a wild dream of passion and joy.

Only for it to be back to how it was when he was at the bottom of the barrel. He'd done so much to come to peace with what had happened, with where he'd gone and what he'd done. He'd regained his title, come to terms with his fate, and he'd even conquered destiny itself. Or at least, he thought he had. Never had he been so humbled before, and the price of his arrogance was this.

The loneliness.

This is what it feels like to be The Doctor. Not the joy or the happiness of the never-ending thrill, but the crushing lonely bitter sadness that comes afterward. The sound of silence in a place people once called their home ringing through your ears. The pain of knowing that you had the power to save the people you cared about, but choosing to do your duty as the last of your kind instead. To maintain the web of time. Humbled again by the beast you'd thought you'd conquered: time. This is what it means to be The Last of The Timelords. Everlasting loneliness throughout all of time and space.

All he can do is endure. It's all he has left. 

He exhales, heavily.

"Goodbye, Spindrift." He remarks as he leaves another chapter of his life behind. 

There'll never be another like you. 

[dravidious]

You're really awesome

PROBLEM: I want to make magic decks with my cards irl, but I have no one to play them against.

SOLUTION: Make an entire custom deck that can play itself to more or less replicate an opponent.

I decided to put the rules in card form as conspiracy cards, but it turns out that rules should be written as rules, not cards, so I had to make extensive notes about each of them (except Industrial Expansion, that one is actually effects instead of rules). I also just enjoy talking about my design choices.

Notes: Creating waste tokens instead of playing lands is basically free card advantage, as well as preventing mana screw/flood. The bot is supposed to have more raw strength than the player, so this isn’t a huge problem, but the starting hand size reduction and 5 land limit are still needed balance it.

Also, I know wastes isn’t actually a basic land type, but it makes the card so much cleaner so "Wastes token" is a predefined token here just like Treasure and Food.

Notes: There’s probably some awkward edge cases here too. I fixed the only one I could find (involving Recycle Bin), but there might be more. The main guiding rule in playing the bot is "don’t make it do obviously dumb stuff." The cards are balanced around the rigid rules, so bad decisions are okay, but sometimes there are plays that are so worthless or actively counterproductive that you really ought to step in. Edge cases should be resolved in whatever way makes the bot play best. Ideally, you shouldn’t have to think too hard about what the bot does; it’s supposed to be automatic, after all. The other guiding rule is "make this similar to a normal game of Magic."

Notes: Much, much simpler than Defense Protocol. Still some vagueness, but good enough to prevent swinging into the opponent’s 4/4 with a 3/3. It applies on a creature-by-creature basis; if you have a 3/3 with flying and a 2/1, and your opponent has a 4/4, the 2/1 won’t attack, but the 3/3 will. If you have a 2/1 and a 5/4, only the 5/4 will attack since the 2/1 can be fully blocked by the 4/4.Non-lethal battles are tricky; if you have a 2/1 and the opponent has a 0/3, you shouldn’t attack because then you’re just tapping down your 2/1. But if you have a pair of 2/1s, you should attack for the free damage. You could reinterpret the "such that they lose no life" bit, but that would result in the rules telling you to swing your creatures into into a 4/4. Basically, use your best judgement; this stuff is too complicated to write out. You’re smart enough.

Notes:

This card would be a fucking nightmare to properly template. Good thing it’s a rule and not actually a card. The vague wording can probably result in lots of edge cases, but this card is basically meant to say "The bot makes the best blocks possible" so use your best judgement in those cases. Activated abilities that boost a creature should be taken into account if mana is open for them. A version of the blocking rules not in card form is given below.

Priority 1: If you can block in such a way that your life total remains above 0, you must do so.

Priority 2: If a blocker can deal lethal damage to an attacker and survive, it must block that creature.

Priority 3: If a blocker can deal lethal damage to an attacker, or if it can survive, it must block that creature.

Priority 4: Don’t block.

Misc 1: If multiple attackers are tied for the highest block priority, the blocker must block the creature with the highest power. If tied, highest toughness, then highest mana value, then choose randomly.

Misc 2: Multi-block an attacker only if it has menace or a similar ability, only with the minimum number of blockers, and only if it falls under a blocking priority (ex. it’s threatening to win the game, or it can be destroyed, or both your blockers survive). Anything else could be a nightmare to calculate.

And that's all the rules/conspiracies, which should allow for playing against the bot while making as few decisions as possible. Here's the cards. The bot's deck consists of 4 copies of each card for a clean 60 deck, compatible for testing against mill.