#yeah. tearing up again

[shivroy]

every time i think about roman pointing to his head, his now visibly-injured head, and asking "why couldn't it be me?" even though he already knows, because he's wrong in the head, because there's something wrong with him, i immediately start crying

[valenshawke]

"'think of the children' always gets support unless what you're thinking about is leaving them with a better world. Somehow, we never need to think of the children when we're talking about climate change, or preventing pandemic diseases, or anything else that costs money. But here we are." - Unbreakable by Mira Grant.

[wandixx]

Danny, the Young Justice member snippet nr 2

these snippets aren't connected in anyway but just some little scenes I came up with, everyone is welcome to build up on them if they want to

Trigger warning: death mentioned, self-harm mentioned, idk, Danny gets flashback to portal incident

unrelated snippet nr 1, unrelated snippet nr 3 (?)

Out, out, out.

He tripped over his own legs and almost fell and it didn’t matter because he needed to get out. 

Away, away, away. 

He wasn’t sure if he ran or flew or dragged himself on the rough floor but he had to get away. His back hit a wall and he couldn’t get past it, intangibility just out of his grasp.

He logically knew that Zeta Tube wasn't the same as the portal but it was similar. So deadly similar.

He wasn’t sure when his own, corps-like, trembling with rigor mortis cold hands started rubbing his arms. He also wasn’t sure whether it was to comfort himself in this lonely self-hug or to try to rub hard enough that the hazmat and skin underneath would be torn, allowing him to see his own, red blood running in his veins. It was still red, right? It was still red, right? Of course it was still running, why wouldn’t it?

His knees gave up. He fell to the ground with quiet reverbatting thump, his eyes fixated on danger at the other side of the large room. He had to get further away but he couldn’t.

Because he was dying again.

Eyes full of tears and terror were jumping around, unable to see the room around him. Why couldn’t he see anything? Why were there only splashes of various colors, all contrasting with a light gray background. Were these people? Colors were moving, that seemed likely. Ghosts?! He had to get ready if these were ghosts he needed to fight them. People could be in danger and he couldn’t even stand without support. He started it, he had to take care of it, no matter how he felt right now.

His normally overly, unnaturally sensitive ears were filled with constant electric buzz from still active Zeta Tubes.

He was quite sure someone was yelling something but no matter what, Danny couldn’t understand what was being said. He tried looking around again but his teary eyes still failed him. There were no red stains though. Not in the right shade at least. No one was bleeding. It was okay for now.

Was it really? He hadn’t bled when he was dying had his accident though. It was all inside him, the crushing hollowness inside him and infinite outside pressure making his body implode. Ectoplasm bubbling in his mouth, throat, stomach and fingers, silencing his scream of agony and destroying his muscles. His limbs were limp and tense, twitching like a broken light bulb, out of his control but not out of his senses. It was so cold that it bit his bones and so hot that his skin was melting. There were screams so loud that it could shatter glass, as if every inhabitant of the Ghost Zone wanted to be heard and absolute suffocating silence. He was alone like nobody ever was and stuck in a stifling crowd that could stomp him to death any second. It was all contrasting, impossible but happening, existing together. He lived died it.

It was impossible, just like him.

There were others, they could help while Danny got himself together.

They couldn’t help if it was a ghost. He had to calm down and get ready to fight.

He couldn’t.

It was all happening again.

He was dying again.

It hurt to even think about.

Would it at least kill him for good?

Air he hadn’t needed before, not since his first death he always needed, like all functioning, alive human beings, got stuck in his lungs. He was gasping for it, choking on it. There was something stuck in his throat. SOme part of his brain that wasn’t screaming in agony and panic and loneliness had considered tearing his neck open just to get whatever was stuck swallowing but it didn’t help. 

He rubbed his arms harder. His eyes were locked on a blurred, still active portal. One of the color blobs moved, growing larger but he couldn’t think about what it meant. His arms hurt. It was good. Pain was grounding. In a gray room with few portals. Not the basement. Ghosts still could be there but it wasn't a basement. He still needed to get ready to fight

If he could feel pain, it meant he was alive, right? Ghosts never showed that they felt pain right? His parents always said they couldn’t.

He knew it was a lie but he felt like it was his last hope.

He realized that growing group of colors actually looked like a person but he had no way to tell whether they were alive or not. His ghost sense was quiet but he didn’t trust himself to not miss it. His throat was still shut tightly. His body kept twitching like a glitching character. No matter what, he couldn’t fight right then. He had to get himself together.

He scratched his arms almost violently.

Warm, soft, gentle hands pried his palms away from his arms. It wasn't a ghost. Ghosts weren't this gentle, this calmingly warm. Someone, someone who was alive, was crouching in front of him, face at the same level as his, hiding portals from his sight. Danny nearly sunk into their gentle touch.

“-om." their voice also was so gentle, filled with concern but firm enough to get to him over the buzz of portals. He tried to concentrate on this voice. He didn't want to hear portals.

"-ntom." It sounded like they were calling someone. He had to focus more to understand. Gentle grip on his wrists got more firm. There he was. He wouldn't feel it if he was dying again.

"Phantom." They called quietly, like little windbells Sam gave him as a birthday present. It was his name, they were asking him something he couldn't understand, something he couldn't do.

"I'm sorry."

He wasn't sure if any sound came out of his mouth.

Grip on his hands loosened a little, not enough for him to do anything about it, but enough to return to the pure feeling of safety and reassurance it gave him before.

“It's okay Phantom." they murmured. Danny nearly cried at their kindness and calmness. Air slowly started to fill his lungs again. It truly was okay, he wasn't dying again."Can you focus on five things you can see for me?"

He could do it. It wasn't much to repay the gentle person kneeling in front of him.

He blinked tears away and started the list in his head.

Black Canary in front of him.

Superboy in the middle of the room. He looked like he didn't know what to do.

Kid Flash next to him, ready to come to where Danny was shaking on the floor.

Robin and Artemis both made sure that Kid stayed where he was.

Miss Martian for sure feeling his panic and having trouble coping with this. He should calm down as soon as he can, he didn't want to cause any of his teammates too much stress.

Danny nodded, looking once again at the only adult hero in the room.

Molecules in his body were rearranging again. It all hurt.

"Thank you Phantom. Can you focus on four things you can hear?"

Five racing heartbeats.

One heartbeat that sounded more like buzz because of its speed. KF's heart was always weird.

Tapping of someone's feet.

Zeta Tubes.

He had been in the portal again, it had turned on with him inside again. He was dying again.

Next cautious nod.

"Alright. Now three things you can touch." Black Canary still sounded so calm, so sure she had it all under control. So contrary to her panicked heart. Danny wanted to believe her voice.

Canary's hands still on his wrists. In fact she was touching him more than he was her, but it still counted. There was some physics rule about it.

Cold stone he was sitting on. Weird, he was sure this cave was heated.

Hard wall pressing on his spine.

"Excellent. Two things you can smell?"

Jazz had done same exercise with him before.

Cookies made by Megan before she went on a mission.

Ectoplasm. Somewhere there was ectoplasm that wasn't inside him. He couldn't smell his own ecto. But there was no ghost in the cave. His sense was silent. It was there somehow else. It was concerning but not enough to make him panic again. They could handle it.

His lungs were still aching but air started filling them nearly as much as it did normally. His limbs stopped shaking so much too. He knew he wasn't dying this time. He was calming down.

"You're doing great Phantom. Now think, what's one thing you can taste?"

Aftertaste of ectoplasm he spat between the rough fight and the moment when Kid Flash rushed him to the nearest Zeta Tube, talking about medical attention. Danny tried to tell him, he didn't need that but he was inside before his explanation left his mouth.

"Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah," It was all he was able to say at the moment. He truly felt better but that didn't mean good. It was only a little less bad than shitty, one step from fully dead.

I considered writing continuation with Danny explaining a bit what happened and how he even ended up in Zeta Tube but a) lost spark to rewrite it b) hated what already had But if you want, I can probably rub my remaining two braincels together and continue. Or someone else can. Do it if you want to. Do it. Do it

[whilomm]

oh okay heres one:

"sleepaway camp"= you go there for at least a few days, a week, sometimes several weeks, and sleep there, as opposed to a """camp""" where you go for the day and your parents or whoever picks you up afterward (those arent really camps, but like. idk when i went to "space camp" it was a weeklong but not sleepaway). in the U.S. at least, the typical image of a sleepaway camp involves staying in cabins, dunno how common it is/what it looks like in other countries.

for the first few i just mean like. not necessarily a stealth church camp, just like. idk, a camp where theres also an Assumption Of Christianity and just general vibes without being actually church camp. So, there might not be daily services and jesusy dedicatwd activities, but maybe theres still a prayer said over meals and shit. Which i assume might exist...

(oh and @reblogforsamplesize if u wanna)

[rabidline]

240909  ||  shoma_un0 Instagram Post (x) 様々な経験や出会いをさせてくれたワンピース・オン・アイスにいつまでも感謝しています！ 全員が最高の仲間だ！ Machine Translation: I am forever grateful to One Piece on Ice for the many experiences and encounters I have had! You are all the best friends I've ever had!

[useramor]

maybe it's just me but when a kid calls your name a million times just to say "WATCH THIS" and then jumps and falls like.....that's the greatest thing ever like the whole entire world is so new to you and even the little things feel like the greatest accomplishments and you want to share it with ME? you find something that makes your little kid brain go "WOW!!!! NEAT!!!!" and the first thing you do is turn around and call my name............i will love you forever

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Tagged by @bigfootsmom for tease tidbit tuesday! Had an idea for what I want to do for another of my bad things happen bingo squares and scribbled this opening out on my lunch break at work

“I’ve been doing fine lately.”

“I’m glad. That’s not what I asked.”

Bobby frowns at Frank, who’s sitting as relaxed and neutral as he always is. “You’re a therapist. Don’t you need to know my… current mental state, something like that?”

“Sure,” Frank smiles just the tiniest bit. Bobby doesn’t know if that means he’s succeeded or failed at something. “But I asked: why are you here?”

Bobby likes to flatter himself by thinking he can come across pretty relaxed and neutral himself. He may have grown up surrounded by rapidly decreasing charm in a picture imperfect midwestern family, but none of them ever fully lost the ability to put on a show. “Well, it’s been a hell of a year,” he smiles back, just enough bashfulness, just enough aw shucks, ain’t that just the way.

Frank nods, demeanor unchanged. “It’s almost November,” he points out. “That’s a lot of year. Why did you decide to come in today?”

Bobby’s mother liked to think she could see right through him like this. She’d be impressed by Frank, if she’d approved of therapists. Bobby bites the side of his cheek. That wasn’t really her fault. It was a different time. None of the rest of them would have agreed to going, anyway. “Hell of a week, then.”

Tagging @iinryer @chronicowboy @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @shitouttabuck @butchdiaz if ya got anything to share!

[lightbulb-warning]

i used to freehand comics all the time as a child and since the part i liked was the drawing part i would just draw panel after panel because i didn't want to stop drawing to think about icky icky words, plus the story TOTALLY still made perfect sense! to me! and noone else, but 'whoooo caaaaares omgggg its not like comics and sequantial art are a communicative meeediummmm lmaoooooo'. i spent my entire childhood telling myself stuff like "oh pfft I know this story by heart- ill SIMPLY remember the dialogue and write it later" ...and. I can't help but admire baby maiora's (call that a minora ba tm tsk) fucking audacity? hubris? confident wrongness? kid couldn't even remember to finish the comics in the first place? INCREDIBLE levels of unearned self assurance, wish that were me, genuinely- what an icon!!! anyway i think i have forever cursed myself

[stormyoceans]

MONICA - monica.

thumb. guiding. green light. hands. HANDS.

also dashing young lads on the dancefloor

HANDSHANDSHANDSHANDSHANDSHANDSHANDSHANDSHANDSHANDSHANDSHANDSHANDSHANDSHANDSHANDSHANDSHANDSHANDSHANDSHANDSHANDSHANDSHANDSHANDSHANDSHANDSHANDS

HANDS ON WAIST HANDS ON NAPE

HANDS ON CHEST HANDS ON NECK

HANDS ON WRIST HANDS ON LIPS

HANDS HOLDING ON TO EACH OTHER

HANDS CRADLING THE MOST PRECIOUS THING IN THE WORLD

(ALSO /MY/ HANDS CLAWING AT THE WALLS OF MY ENCLOSURE AND RIPPING OFF BRICKS AND SHOVELING ASBESTOS DOWN MY MOUTH UNTIL MY HEART GIVES OUT AS SOON AS I THINK ABOUT THE WHOLE ENTIRE EVERYTHING OF THIS EPISODE AND ESPECIALLY SAID DASHING YOUNG LADS ON THE DANCEFLOOR BUT LET'S NOT GO THERE)

[ying-doodles]

forced blindness

a little what if demon king acheros actually did eat lloyd's eyes? :)

(this is a very unhinged drawing lmao)

[blind0raven]

... welp now I'm sad...

Grim will be... fine?

... maybe Grim will be moved to another dorm? Probably with Ace and Deuce...

Also we'd be leaving our first friends too...

... I mean... it's possible that we won't be able to go back home this soon right? Hah...

Maybe it'll be till we're nearing our 3rd year at NRC to make sure Grim graduates! Haha...

Right?...

... being yuu in this specific situation would be so hard... cause I wouldn't want to say goodbye to them... possibly forever...

[riacte]

how it started:

one ren peeing twaddle conversation later:

[x-nephophile-x]

Vigilant photo-dump because it's a great mod and if you make it a Blood and Gore ride, its an even more terrific time and definitely doesn't make you cry times two but it's okay, it's all an act of love and im not eating drywall over any of it! <3

Bonus Post-Vigilant Sol because she went through it:

[2truehearts]

— they love you like the sea.

their love for you is as vast as the ocean and as intricate as what lays beneath its blanket of glittering foam.

they are the kisses hidden in both blanket and dawn, the laughter you’re drawn to even in crowded rooms; and the secret in-between scorned love letters.

often times, they’re calm and collected—yet other times it seems as if they’re threatening to swallow you whole to keep you within their grasp. they are complex, brilliant, mysterious—and you’re just like them, in a different font, per se.

they see everything but your heart, anything but your sleight of hand, all but your love. so they soon bring you ashore—where everything else is beautiful but the sea. because they aren't land, they aren't stable—they could not love you properly, and that's on them; not you or anyone else. just them, and they're fine with that. they're too much to handle, and through you they learn it the hard way.

— ⓒ llovelessly 2023.

[no-light-left-on]

Let's talk about the Chaos System in Dishonored

“Your actions affect the city. A high number of deaths results in more rats, more weepers, different reactions from your allies and darker final outcome.”

The most important thing to note is that we need to distinguish between chaos and morality. A lot of people interpret Low Chaos as Good and High Chaos as Bad which is… not inherently correct. At the same time, it is important to acknowledge that while non-lethal takedowns of key targets result in lower chaos, they are not the only thing that contributes to the chaos rating of a mission. I highly recommend reading these two posts [1] [2] by the lovely @kirtlandswarbler who looked into the science behind the chaos system.

It is perhaps easiest to imagine as the DnD alignment of Lawful to Chaotic. Low Chaos aligns with Lawful, the player character going after their targets and not dragging bystanders into their mess. All the takedowns are tactical, some might even say deserved – the Lord Regent hanged for his crimes, Campbell branded as a heretic that he was, Hypatia cured of her madness caused by the serum, Delilah locked in a painted world she desired so. The achievement for completing the game with non-lethal ways is even called Poetic Justice in DH and In Good Conscience in DH2. If the game is completed in a self-serving, bloodthirsty, anger satiating way, the chaos ends up being high – or plain chaotic on the alignment chart. But that is what the chaos means for the playstyle.

Chaos within the world is, in short, the way the world reacts to the player’s actions. The good and the bad, but every move the player makes in the world is a choice, and the world responds accordingly.

Let us set the scene, first, in general terms. In both games, the Empire is at a point of heightened anxiety. In DH it’s the plague, in DH2 the Crown Killer. Both games deal with brutality citizens face from the City Watch/Grand Guard, religious anxieties and terror from the Overseers, gang activity and a tyrannical regime from the Regent or the Duke respectively.

This is the world we walk into as Corvo, Daud or Emily. Everyone is uneasy and somewhat distrustful, and the player character then descends into the streets with a blade in hand, carving their way through a crumbling city to reach their goal. Loved ones go missing. Fathers don’t come back from work, cousins stop responding to letters. Even the elite in their palaces aren’t spared, slaughtered in cold blood with their loyal guard lying close by, staining the expensive hardwood floors. This is the world the player creates in high chaos – a world where no one is safe, and the few survivors live in terror, afraid that every breath they take might be the last. They see no reason to trust their neighbours, become more selfish, angrier- even your allies become more cynical, watching you slaughter your way back to the top, and why are they helping you again? To replace one tyrant with another?

In low chaos, however, the people remain safe. The civilians are allowed to continue going through their day to day life, however harsh it might be. The guards and overseers are spared, for the most part, and the nobles and rich that might go missing? That is their problem. They never cared for the smaller people. Both games open with a large shift in the political landscape – the assassination of an empress, a coup that seats a witch on the throne. And yet people still die of the plague or to the bloodflies. If a couple more members of the parliament die, that is, at the end of it all, just politics. It is among those who meddle with political issues, and not the business of the rest of the world.

The chaos is calculated by the absolute body count, along with a few special actions that the player can take. Most of them make sense. The chaos is higher if Daud blows up a slaughterhouse, killing many in the process, harming an industry, terrifying people who only hear of the event. Saving a young woman and her brother as they are harassed by the overseers over witch crimes they never committed lowers your chaos, because Corvo helped people in need. It’s a balance of the good and the bad you do, in total, rather than the simple distinction between killing and not killing the key targets. The overall chaos remains low even when all the key targets are taken down lethally. However, even if they are all spared, if the player killed every guard in sight just to reach these targets, the chaos will be high.

Something that I see (wrongly) be brought up is that killing key targets grants you a High Chaos ending, while the non-lethal takedowns result in Low Chaos ending. As mentioned above, that’s not true – they do count towards your total body count, but their deaths do not have a greater weight towards High Chaos. The non-lethal neutralization thus helps maintain lower chaos, but it does not necessarily mean that these choices are the right ones to make. The best example of this is probably Lady Boyle, which is oftentimes brought up as “oh but the morality of this game!!” critique. Death vs. poetic justice has little to do with morality in these games. After all, the protagonist (not counting DLCs) is out for revenge, to an extent, on people who have wronged them and caused them to fall on hard times. Just because a character lives does not mean there are not fates worse than death – like handing a woman to her stalker under the threat of death.

Morality and lethality in Dishonored are two things that don’t necessarily overlap. Lobotomizing Jindosh is, most definitely, a horrible thing and Jindosh ends up begging the MC to rather take his life than let him live without his intellect. There is no doubt that he is a horrible person, and many people tell you so during the game, but is this really the right way to go about things? Is an existence without the one thing you truly value about yourself worth it? On a similar yet completely opposite side of things, when you overhear one of the guards talk about how they have fun killing people who break curfew, is it truly a bad thing to kill them? One or two more deaths won’t affect your chaos all that much. It gets even more worth considering with the special actions that decrease your chaos which involve saving people from getting murdered by overseers or the guard. These actions are often difficult or impossible to perform without killing the attackers (like the guard harassing the girl that worked for Bunting).

These actions then reflect on your surroundings – the more corpses litter the streets, the more weepers and rats there will be, the nastier the bloodfly infestation. With a killer on the loose, there have to be more guards around. Mind you, the special actions that cause your chaos to grow are not enough to tip you over into high chaos alone. And as you, and Corvo/Daud/Emily by extension, grow more cruel, your allies grow more cynical. The Loyalists see Corvo butcher the city, and, well, it’s working. So why shouldn’t they get more cruel to achieve their goals, too? Emily is the most impacted, in Low Chaos growing to be Emily the Wise, the beloved empress of the Isles, asking Corvo innocent questions, while in the high chaos she talks about executions, asks how many people he's killed. Some grow to despise you, like Samuel, seeing the growing corruption and wishing for the quest to be done because they now see that the person they were helping was as much of a monster as the ones they are opposing. If you are cruel, the world will be cruel back, and the world involves those you might hold closest, like your daughter or your second in command.

The world, then, behaves in the way you mold it. Chaos reflects it, the destruction or kindness that you leave in your wake. Of course the murder of a noblewoman on a party she hosted, guarded by tallboys, will cause people to worry. Of course panic will spread when civilians are murdered in the streets. The general population of Dunwall will worry when the medicine that was meant to cure the plague suddenly turns everyone into weepers. But just the same, if people are shown kindness by a stranger without having to ask, they will be soothed. A cruel political leader being executed for the crimes he committed will make people excited, hopeful even. When Emily switches the Duke for his body double, the common people won’t notice. There is no need for fear, with the non-lethal takedowns. Not for those who are not directly involved.

Chaos, at the end of it all, dictates how the world evolves from the brink of collapse. The Outsider says it best, in one of his many speeches. “I have to wonder whether you're going to give if that final nudge, or pull it back from the edge.“ You have the power to tip the scales with your actions. Your choices matter, the big and the small, each life you save and each life you take, because at the end of the game, you are the one that has shaped the world that you will rule.

[ickypuppi3]

i love billy and i want him to be happy and human but at the same time i also think he deserves to come back as some sort of eldritch horror and just fuck shit up