Sorry I forgot Hanneman suggested Byleth undress after they show up with a different hair color. And I miss Hanneman. And also while swapping between Houses and Hopes and seeing Hanneman pop up to help in a Hopes paralogue is just devastating since he doesn't ever actually join you at all and I am denied my old man rights.
So I had to draw this. Thank you for understanding.
reminder that if you're not watching Crayon Shin-chan then you are living a hollow and empty life. this is not edited. this ripped straight from the movie (Movie 8: Jungle That Invites the Storm, highly recommend for fellow Masaaki Yuasa lovers)
if you need further convincing: these monkeys run an animation sweatshop
I think a lot of people are frustrated sometimes when somebody expresses that therapy just "doesn't work" for them, and I used to feel that way, too, until I realized that the therapy that I was doing just wasn't right for me.
When people think therapy, I think many just assume it's all cognitive behavioural therapy and that that is the only kind of therapy out there. However, this isn't true, and CBT can absolutely be ineffective for certain situations. If you are confused by this idea, here's an example: when I was in the midst of my most recent abusive circumstance, not only was my therapy weaponized against me by my abuser, but also, the therapists I had were ill-prepared to treat ongoing abuse. They had the tools common for CBT, but there is only so much a victim can do before their circumstances are completely out of their control. In a case like this, CBT can be an unhelpful tool alone, which is why you have people who blanket statement say that all therapy is unhelpful (understandable why one would say that if they haven't had any helpful/good experiences).
It seems like people see this idea that "therapy doesn't work" as an automatic red flag, and certainly, I can imagine why one would think that. However, in a healthcare system that generally prioritizes CBT therapy as the "only therapy," it's helpful to remember that CBT isn't always the best option or the best option alone.
ok maybe this is just me but like, i Feel like people. underhighlight how a Lot of pvpers are just really really good strategists
(more rambling about this under the cut) but like. speaking from someone who's familiar with lifesteal and ivorycello's content, someone like clown isn't just someone who's 1) very skilled at the game, but he's also very good at picking up exactly what he lacks in and how to make up his skills effectively And efficiently
an example would be how clown grinded for 64 god apples because he knew how much the lifesteal server has improved at pvp in general (fun fact on his testrun ep he talks about how everyone has massively improved) (and on top of that him touching grass and not practicing /lh) but, since he knows he cannot rely on pure skill alone (and can't train that much in time) he makes up for those disadvantages by grinding materials to ensure he'll be able to get by, even if it's just barely (he also! observes other people's moves too! ex: during a s3 fight vi and some other people were chasing him down and were supply chaining until they finally wore clown down enough to kill him--and clown was a really good sport about it! and started talking to them about the supply chain strategy and complimented how it worked so well!!! he's good at analyzing stuff, with the whole thing about being able to reconize the other lifestealers have gotten so good that they'd probably kick his ass back in s2 now! the fact hes able to anaylize his own and others pvp is...really cool i think)
and ivory falls under this category as well, you can most clearly see it on her doly 1v1 video, but she's able to figure out exactly what aspects doly uses to his advantage (even to figuring out his ping and how they affect his pcrits) and from that she's able to figure out how to turn those exact methods on top of their heads and build up her own strategies to directly combat what doly was, probably, doing subconsciously. holy hell that's such a cool concept??? like ivory herself admits in her own video that she is a relatively new pvper and the fact she was able to synthesize that much information into a strategy that beat out someone who has so much more experince than her? that's so fucking badass
maybe this is just me not looking in the right places but. i Really do think people like clown's and ivory's skills as strategists should be highlighted more. like, i feel like it humanzies them a lot more. makes them feel like people that just so happen to be very skilled instead of undefeatable figureheads who are powerful beyond comprehension. even though that's their reputation, they're still just people at the end of the day and i think that's an interesting dichotomy to explore <3
in conclusion the most poignant thing about ruina is its running theme of Imperfection. imperfection, focused not on its flaws, but on the miracle of it existing to begin with. imperfection not as a failing, but as a triumph. its cracked, broken, deeply in need of repair-- but it's real and its ours and it exists. despite everything it exists and that enough is a relief beyond words, beyond expression. to present a toppled structure not as a conclusion, but an opportunity.
its the choice-- and the joy-- of looking forward, unflinchingly, and facing it. one step at a time.
Just imagining Belos coming into Hunter's room every night after Luz arrives once he's finally decided he's going to do a murder and that he doesn't need the grimwalkers anymore, only to be dissuaded by the fact Luz is right there curled up asleep on top of him contentedly as he purrs.
This is despite the fact that they do not sleep in the same room and Belos is not entirely sure how she got there from her room and no matter how many locks he puts on both of their doors or guards he assigns she somehow gets in there or Hunter ends up in her room through similar means (it's the vents or guards blatantly collaborating) and just being constantly perplexed at how they constantly end up with each other and how he keeps being outwitted by a four year old and a six year old.
Eventually he gives up on just disappearing Hunter in his sleep and tries doing it in the day which is when the aforementioned meltdown happens but the image of Belos being bested by a four year old has seized my brain.
this is hilarious and delightful. i LOVE the idea of luz and hunter charming their guards. luz keeps going "but WHY can't i see him" with her giant baby doe eyes & her assigned coven guard of the week is like "....you know what. i have no idea." and keeps sneaking her over.
if luz DOESN'T manage to charm her guard of the week, hunter paces fretfully about it and bangs on his door until HIS guard of the week is like oh for fuck's sake. Fine. Let's Go
belos is certain the guards are conspiring despite them swearing they aren't & so he keeps switching them out & luz + hunter KEEP charming them & belos is like. WHAT MAGIC ARE THESE POWERLESS CHILDREN USING. WHAT IS GOING ON
actually. god. i haven't fleshed out much of luz's inner guard (besides hunter, obviously), but what if it's made up mostly of older guards/scouts who broke belos's rules when she was a baby. hunter would still do his due diligence wrt making sure they're steadfastly loyal and have no ulterior motives, but like. hunter like hey. i've known you since i was six and i know you'll do anything for luz.
& these people WELL into their late thirties and forties being like. i've known YOU since YOU were six. and yet somehow you have become my boss.
woagh! rare wip wednesday. i finally found some words and im making... progress? on the other half of mithridatism, aka monster trio poison immunity angst pt. 2, aka zoro's perspective (the parts sanji isnt there for), aka [[a really good title i prommy]].
anyway, thank u @asexualzoro for the funniest thing to happen to me all week, although it is only (as previously mentioned) wednesday. theres still time for comedy. i’m keeping my options open.
text under the cut! as always, keep in mind this is really just a draft…
Then, without another word, he lifts his left hand—fingers splayed—and Zoro feels the fucked up, unnatural buzz of Law’s power blanketing the room like a thousand tiny pinpricks to his senses. He opens his mouth, already halfway to cursing when Law snaps D and A—and suddenly there, in the center of the cold stainless steel operating table, is a jar.
It’s an unassuming thing—thick purple-red visible through clear surgical-grade glass etched and labeled with a clinical sterility, such a contrast from the repurposed, hand-sealed rows in the Cook’s pantry that Zoro laughs—a half-formed chuckle of disbelief huffed out into the beat of stillness that falls between them. The viscous liquid sits in heavy contrast to the bright, terrible gleam of the room itself; Zoro can’t take his eye off it. Can’t stop staring, like his left lid has been peeled open and taped back, his neck trapped in a vice, his feet nailed to the floor.
“You’re insane,” Zoro sneers, and in his peripheral vision, he sees Law shrug.
“This is the New World. I’m not stupid enough to waste valuable resources,” Law replies, unaware or simply uncaring. “The opportunity to study something so potent only rarely—if ever—surfaces. The opportunity to study something resistant to it—well.” Law shrugs again, and Zoro hears the metal edge of the surgical table creak under his own grip. Something in the room snarls, but Law’s expression doesn’t change. “Really, Zoro-ya, you’re being dramatic.”
“You kept his blood,” Zoro spits, and it’s not a question. There’s a sick kind of shine through the glass, an illness to the color that’s not just oxidation but something worse, maybe—because Zoro knows blood. Knows it intimately, deeply, religiously—knows it better than sweat and sake and seawater, and that—
“Oh, I kept more than that,” Law replies. “But two years is a long time, and storage space on a submarine is inherently limited.”
“You’re fucked in the head.”
Law raises an eyebrow, unmoved. “Like I said,” he hums, “pragmatist.”
“We fought for you,” Zoro seethes, “and the whole time Luffy was trying to keep you from killing yourself on Doflamingo’s doorstep, you had this in your cabinets like some kind of fucked-up vampire.”
“Do you think he would care?” Law asks, and Zoro grits his teeth, silenced, because no, actually. He knows full-well Luffy wouldn’t give a shit if he were even aware of the theft—both because he trusts Law (probably picked him, Zoro knows, the moment the Polar Tang surfaced next to Marineford’s battlefield) and because Luffy would genuinely, honestly, wholeheartedly believe in punching his way through whatever risk a rival Captain’s unrestrained study of his physiology might bring. And Zoro doesn’t doubt he could.
(Law seems to feel the same—he still hasn’t denied Luffy’s own ability to kill him with a little time and effort, after all.)
Haruka clenched his fists. “Y-you would be surprised if you woke up and -- and -- and your cell was full of ice cream!
I was just thinking of this line from your last Mikoto drabble and wondered… Can you make this happen?
I certainly can >:3 I tried for a while to frame this as straight-up comedy, but it actually worked so much better as something sweet, with silly lines here and there :) Thank you so much for the request, it was so fun!! (Also, I wrote John using Mikoto's name for ease, but in my mind he's switching between first person pronouns.)
There was someone unexpected in cell 009.
No, no, it’s not like that. Everyone was very aware that there were two distinct residents of that cell. John himself was very aware of his position in that cell.
The thing was, someone else ended up in there, too.
John kept his eyes shut, feigning sleep. The other person was here on a mission. They’d slipped in without creaking the metal door. Their footsteps were nearly inaudible against the floor. He would have thought it was Kotoko, with skills like that, but she would have leapt to an attack. This person was busy doing… something.
He strained his ears. It was impossible to tell their goal. They were going in and out, moving things around. Was it a trap? There weren’t enough materials in the prison to set a trap. Were they stealing things from around the room? He had nothing of value. Plus, he was sure Mikoto would have given anything to anyone who asked. What, then?
Unable to come to any conclusion, he readied himself. He’d protect himself. He always did.
In one fluid motion, he rolled out of the bed and pinned the other to the ground. The perpetrator let out a high-pitched squeak. Impossibly wide and frightened eyes looked up at him.
“Haruka…?” That was the last person he was expecting. John squinted around the room. “What the --”
Ice cream. He didn’t know what it meant, but that’s what Haruka had been arranging. Dishes and dishes of ice cream. Everywhere. Plates stacked on the desk. Bowls strewn across the floor. All vanilla. There was a scattering of toppings; some with colorful sprinkles and others dripping with chocolate sauce. When he’d tackled the poor boy, he sent another dish of it clattering across the ground.
“I’m sorry! Ah, I-I, ah, I’m sorry!” Haruka squeezed his eyes shut. “It-it’s a, it was a surprise, for you! For M-m-mikoto…!”
“A surprise?”
“The other d-day he said, we were, we were talking ab-bout --”
“He asked for this?”
“Uh, no, but --”
“He didn’t know about it?” John’s eyes narrowed. “It’s some kinda prank?”
“NO! No, n-no I’m not being m-mean. It was f-fun. A fun surprise.” Haruka held his palms up, unable to make his smile anything but panicked. “...Surprise!”
John stared.
Despite how nonsensical the whole situation was, there didn’t seem to be any danger. He rose. Haruka scrambled to his feet.
John gestured to the extensive supply of sweets around them. “How did you get all this together, anyway?”
“O-oh!” Haruka wrung his hands. “I was, uh, planning it for a while. I requested ice cream three times in a row. And I n-never ate mine for dessert. I’ve been saving it. Es asked why, b-but they still let me keep it.”
“And why did you? Why do all this for Mikoto?”
“I t-told you, it was sup-supposed to be fun...”
John braced himself against the desk. He was just wondering how long it would take to take care of this mess. He mused, “it’s all going to melt.”
He might as well have thrown a punch, the way Haruka’s expression shifted. “I’m sorry! I’m -- I… I didn’t think of that…”
“Eh? You don’t need to apologize or anything. It’s fine.”
They fell into silence. Haruka shifted on his feet.
“Y-you… can have it, if you want. The ice cream. I didn’t let anyone else have it but-but, you can, I think. ”
“I don’t want the ice cream.” He wanted to be left alone. He wanted the cell clean so Mikoto didn't stress out about cleaning it. He wanted to avoid being bothered by bizarre ‘surprises’ first thing in the morning.
His stomach disagreed, apparently. It let out a loud grumble. Both prisoners looked over.
He muttered a curse. With a huff, he picked up one of the bowls.
“Alright. But even if I did eat this, or Mikoto did, there’s no way I could finish it all.” He shoved it into Haruka’s hands. “You made this mess, you’re gonna help me deal with it.”
The boy nodded frantically.
“Come on, you can sit here. Pass me that one, with the syrup. And hurry it up.”