Inkspot Fancy

So... Persona 4

2008-12-15T21:45:55Z

My thoughts thus far (about 30 hours in) and a comparison to P3

Combat and equipment
For me at least, fighting in P4 is a little harder than in P3. The battles themselves are about the same, and made easier after you rank up some of the s. links with your teammates - they get abilities on odd-numbered ranks that can allow them to take a mortal hit for you, snap someone out of certain status ailments, even what my mind is calling the "Zoro skill" where they can take what should be a killing wound to themselves and survive it.

The trouble comes after the battle. If you get shuffle time, instead of the four arcanas and personas, you get three types of cards - blank, persona and penalty. If you pick the persona, you get the persona. Pick blank and nothing happens. Pick penalty and you lose all the money, experience and items you gained from the fight.

There's also a follow-up "arcana chance" occasionally, wherein one of the major arcana cards comes up and, if you accept it, it spins and either helps or hinders you based on if it's normal or inverted. For instance, one might change all blank cards to persona cards if it's upright, but inverted it changes the blanks to penalty cards. There's ones to affect exp, money, and persona stats as well as the HP and SP of the group and the numbers of enemies.

I've yet to level my s.link with this game's version of Fuuka, so there may be some aid coming from that front once there's a few ranks. IIRC after a certain level Fuuka started healing us a little when we moves from floor to floor, so maybe something like that is forthcoming.

Also, just coming across weapons and armor is much rarer than it was in P3, meaning you buy a lot more or you're supremely underpowered for fighting. and you don't automatically get new weapons and armor in the shop - new weapons and armor come available as you collect raw materials from the fights in the TV world and sell them to him. I actually like that quite a bit. it's fun to come in and unload a bunch of new stuff after your first foray into a new dungeon and see like five or six (Seven is the most I've gotten at one time so far) new items get unlocked.

The spread of abilities mirrors the first game's in a lot of ways, though the weapon designs are way less... weapony. I guess that comes from this being a group of kids who happened upon the abilities instead of being a legitimized and funded shadow-fighting team. the designs of all the PCs personas were really great this time as well.

Oh! Another change? Knockdowns don't preclude someone from attacking their next turn, it just stops them from dodging attacks until they stand back up and does offer the chance for a follow-up. The gang-up attack is still in full force. I still adore it :)

Exploring the dungeon
Perhaps in an effort to balance out the enhanced difficulty (No more healing from the cards, no more being able to boost exp when leveling) they made the actual exploration of the dungeon easier. Thus far, the sections seem to be shorter - the first three dungeons have been 8, 11 and 11 floors respectively. There's not a get-out portal on every floor, so you have to have an item on you to get out, but once you've reached a floor, you can go back in on that same floor instead of having to start from the previous base-floor as in P3. You can also go down as well as up.

There's still a spot that allows a free return to the bottom when you reach a floor with a boss fight, and that same spot also lets you save, which is awesome. However, returning to base doesn't heal you the way it did in P3. There *is* a fox you meet through one of the s. links that will heal you for a price, but you really have to question if it's worth it, as, at least in my experience so far, money is at a premium. However, the further you up that s.link the more of a discount the fox gives on healing. (He also sometimes gives you free things if you pet him).

Unlike in P3, the design of the dungeon has a specific purpose. Each dungeon is meant to mimic a specific setting based on its boss, however far its labyrinthian design may stretch the original look. I actually find myself really liking that aspect. While it makes sense in P4 and wouldn't have made sense in P3 just given the nature of where the Shadows live, there's just something cohesive about it that I found really enjoyable with P4. More on the general cohesiveness in the general section.

There are now two kinds of chests - red ones and gold ones. Red ones give small items and occasionally keys to open the larger ones. Larger ones carry armor, accessories and, presumably, weapons though I've not yet gotten any.

Social life and s.links
P4 has upped the number of stats in social skills from 3 to 5 - Knowledge, Expression, Understanding, Courage and Dilligence. Different stats are needed to unlock different things, and they can be upped in a variety of ways, from the standby studying and eating to reading on the sofa and doing part-time jobs.

I think I like the jobs best, since they're triply useful. Thus far, each of the ones I've taken not only gives you money but also ups a stat, and some of them even advance certain social links (I believe there are three s.links only available through jobs).

Also in something I see as a major improvement over P3, you can now form social links with every PC in your party. As explained higher up, this gives you bonuses in battle, but further, it just makes sense. In P3, it was sort of a weird dichotomy where you were living in the same place as Junpei, Akahiko and Ken, presumably hanging out with them regularly, and yet this interaction never got to the 1-on-1 level of friends. But you could hang out and shoot the breeze with Bebe the French sewing addict. It never quite made sense to me.

In fact, on the whole the s.link system seems a little more polished in P4. Your various social links now actually interact with one another, something that was done in some small way in FES but not enough to fix the issue that most of them seemed to exist in a vaccuum. For an example, you get a call from one s.link person on a Sunday and go to hang out. He says he's inviting a couple other friends too and it turns out to be other people from school, which you may or may not have established an s.link with. You can also form links with both of the people you live with, and will occasionally encounter them in your dealings with other people as well. The whole network just seems more organic and the s.links seem a lot less tacked-on.

Also? Only one girlfriend! Meaning some of the female s.links are a LOT easier to level and don't revolve exclusively around getting into the protagonist's pants. I mean, seriously. I think I only ever leveled up maybe two of the chicks from the first game because if I wanted an outright dating sim, I'd go buy one.

One problem with this setup is that instead of fighting at night, you fight in the afternoons, when most of your s.link time is. So the s.links HAVE to be a little easier.

General
The two games, for all their similarities, have very different feels. S.links in P4 feel more like a natural part of getting used to a new place, whereas they had sort of a sidequest feel in P3. The atmosphere is a lot brighter and less heavy in P4, but I think that sort of takes away from some of the sense of something-bad-impending that really drove me through P3.

There's one thread of the P4 game so far that really makes me feel... I don't know. not uncomfortable, but that it wasn't really handled very well. Odds are, if you play it, you'll see what I mean right off. If you want to know and don't plan to play, PM me and I can let you know there.

Forays into the shadow fighting mode have been, for me at least, a lot shorter and more intense because of the ever-ticking clock on my limited SP reserves. There are times I really miss a good grind (especially when an inverted Death card forces my group out of a dungeon less than a floor in).

The world overall feels a lot more real in P4, but I think part of what made P3 intense was that air of unreality. (Come on, protagonist walked through a forest of coffins in the opening of that game with barely a blink. It wasn’t precisely normal). The kids in P4, to me, really feel like teens in an odd situation whereas sometimes the P3 characters (with the exception of Junpei and occasionally Yuakri) felt like adults who happened to be teen-aged.

The voice acting is strong, and I think well-cast. There was one voice I thought would get annoying real fast, but surprisingly it didn’t. The expected strong performances from the likes of Yuri Lowenthall and Laura Bailey were as expected, but my personal favorite was Troy Baker (not THAT Troy Baker) as the thug Kanji, since the only roles I really know him from are Abel Nightroad (SP?) and Helmeppo.

Overall, I think P3’s the better game, but P4 is nearly at the same level. It’s a different experience while staying familiar at its core, and I really recommend both. :)

I'm sure I'll have more to say on the subject. No game's ever quite grabbed me like these two before.

lissibith @ 2008-10-30T16:27:00

2008-10-30T20:31:53Z

sarah palin is the worst of what a woman in politics can be

she set us back a dozen years

her attacks are disgusting, her ignorance, appalling, and her barely concealed xenophobia proves better than anything who in this race has bad judgement

that would be the person who thinks this woman - who apparently sees no problem with racism, sexism or homophobia, who sees no real reason for separation of church and state, who lies baldfaced before the country and the world, who fosters hate and fear the way a gardener fosters seedlings - is a fit representative of our country

it makes me ill that i share a gender with her

far more ill that i have to deal with being called anti-feminist by her supporters who apparently misunderstand what the word means

lissibith @ 2008-06-18T16:14:00

2008-06-18T20:14:35Z

Idea that I will never write but think would be cool if I did?

A story about a sect of some kind – religious, ethical, maybe even location-based – who’ve been cut off from the rest of the world for generations, but whatever’s keeping them apart is coming to an end, be it a voluntary (at first) societal removal or some sort of natural one (A lengthy freeze, perhaps?).

The story would not, except maybe at the end, stray outside their commune and would center around their way of life and what changes are being wrought upon it by the impending reconnection of their society to the rest of the world. Does it drive them together? Apart? Both? Are people excited? Scared? How do you prepare for something like this?

In an unrelated note, if you left a message or texted my cell in the last, oh, week and a half or so, I very much apologize – I only got them last night, after the phone decharged all the way and then recharged all the way. I’m VERY sorry. And very irritated, since it looks like I missed a chance to hang out with two of you who I don’t get to see often.

lissibith @ 2008-05-19T21:01:00

2008-05-20T01:02:18Z

Hmmm.... can't work out what to do

Objection!

2008-02-02T01:41:46Z

I've gotten hopelessly addicted to Phoenix WRight. And so I share with you, some of which I had shared with me and some of which I just found and liked.

Boot to the head
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vFldBVWFgWo

Mambolawyer
http://www.newgrounds.com/portal/view/404770
(I love that, it's so cute!)

ANd because I found them funny even if no one else does
http://www.drdowasure.com/images/phoenixwright/VonKarmaGregoryshootc.PNG
http://www.drdowasure.com/images/phoenixwright/VonKarmaGregorycanec.PNG
http://www.drdowasure.com/images/phoenixwright/PhoenixMilesyofacec.JPG

And to prove I've watched some of that show...
http://www.drdowasure.com/images/phoenixwright/MaxMoegooffc.PNG

lissibith @ 2007-09-18T09:15:00

2007-09-18T13:18:16Z

I feel completely like shit for not knowing this earlier, but... Drew Hayes died in March, and I just found out last night. I mean, he wasn't a huge celebrity, so it wouldn't have BEEN big news, and he was so youn, it never even occurred to me to look. He was 37. Thirty-seven years old, and dead of a heart attack. For those who don't know the name, he was the creator of Poison Elves, which I count as one of my three favorite comics ever, even having only read half of it and a handful of spinoffs. His writing was second only to Bendis (with whom he had a mock-feud running) for me for plain normalcy of thought and great comedic timing in dialogue.

Jeeze.

lissibith @ 2007-08-29T09:56:00

2007-08-29T13:57:54Z

Another question for MD/VA people. Anyone interested in seeing Fullmetal Alchemist: Conqueror of Shamballa at the movie theater in Columbia Mall on Sept. 20? I've never seen it but people keep telling me I have to.

lissibith @ 2007-08-28T12:04:00

2007-08-28T16:04:55Z

And separate so it’s easy to see:

Hey Maryland/Virginia people. Anyone interested in getting a group together to visit the Ren Fest?

Massive update kinda

2007-08-28T16:03:20Z

Updates! Because I never do them.

Two weekends ago: Hung out with Rena, Tiff, Bill and Josh. V. fun. Just sat around and talked most of the night, though there was a stop at a used book store and an ice cream shop. At the book store, got The Handmaid’s Tale, Elvenbane and Elvenblood (right?) and the Brothers Karamazov. My apologies for incorrectly spelled titles.

Thursday: Streetlight Manifesto/Less than Jake concert at the 9:30. As always, a lot of fun. Weird surprise when the only member of the group for whom Dan bought tickets was a very nice guy named Jason, who turned out to be AMV creator Jbone, who I blame along with Rena for getting me into AMVs. I tried very hard not to fangirl, but I think I did, just a little.

Saturday: Mostly bummed around but Tiff and Josh came over in the evening because it was Rena’s birthday Sunday (Happy birthday!). We watched "Hot Fuzz" and had Chipotle. Yum.

Sunday: Breakfast at Denny’s. Went to the water park at Six Flags with Marc, then swung by the town center, where Verizon service was out and so no credit card purchases could go through. Sad Rena, since she wanted a DS. We also tried to go to see Stardust, but it was already out of the theater! Crazy. Went to Gamestop in Laurel and succeeded in acquiring DS not only for her but for me as well. Mistake. I play it far too much. Lunar Knights is so cheesy. Finished the evening watching Nerima Daikon Brothers and Excel Saga. I got a little writing done.

Fics: I’ve now started all of them, but one has determined that it WILL be finished first and I can’t seem to work on any of the others until I get that one completely out. My deepest apologies.

AMVs: The Robin video is coming along fairly well, though I’ve been hit by the "this looks just like everything else out there" doldrums and it’s making it hard to work on more than a second a day.

Games: I’ve been playing One Piece Grand Adventure a lot (American release, sadly – no sound) and encountered something weird. It won’t save when I complete Buggy or Chaser’s modes. Anyone else encounter this?

Writing: Still pondering actually writing that Western. May do another couple HP fanfic forays, this time in tandem with Wattie.

Costumes: My hands are purple from dying a pair of pants for the Doctorine costume. If all goes well, I’ll have the base of the costume done this weekend and be able to turn to accessories and the wig. The glasses will be a challenge.

Hogwarts_Elite: I withdrew my application after realizing I’d completely misunderstood one question. Should be reapplying soon.

lissibith @ 2007-08-22T22:52:00

2007-08-23T02:52:32Z

SAnalith invited me to go get sorted! ANd so I'm going to do it. Woot! hogwarts_elite here I hopefully come.

lissibith @ 2007-08-20T17:23:00

2007-08-20T21:23:25Z

Another!

“Taking the Night Watch”
Fandom: Sailor Moon
Rating/Warnings: G
WC: 788
Disclaimer: I don’t in any way own the world, characters or plot elements of this. Only the order of words is mine. It’s been a while so I hope I got this right. As always, if you don’t like, please let me know and I’ll try another.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The small alarm clock by the bed kept up its vigil, alerting anyone awake to the passage of the seconds, and by implication, the slipping away of their lives. Joining it on its lonely nighttime watch was a young woman, blonde and pensive, seated at the moonlit window. Her shadow cast darkness over the sleeping form of another young woman, this one curled up loosely in bed.

Haruka turned her head, watching the slow rise and fall of Michiru’s breathing, the careless way her hair scattered around her head in sleep. One hand curled against the hollow of her throat, fingers poised as though to play some dream-harp.

She envied Michiru that pleasant rest, and hoped her dreams were sweet, but she also felt a little guilty. She was stealing this time together, time that only she would remember. They were close in the darkness, breathing the same air, sharing the same space, and sometimes, it was comforting. It was enough.

Haruka glanced out the window again, where colors had been smoothed over by the silvery highlights of the moon’s glow. She needed to stay awake. To keep watch, for a while, against the whole world.

Michiru did so much in life, played so many roles, and there were so many of those roles that Haruka could never hope to mimic. She was a mirror, reflecting without judging the world around her. People were drawn to that – that when they were around Michiru, they would become aware not only of their flaws, but of their good qualities too. She let them realize the details of the wonderful things they brought to people’s lives. As for the bad, they might become aware of it when she was around, but her patience, her smile, made it seem like she did not use it to value a person. Rather, it felt like she was trying to show them that whatever they had done that they regretted could be forgotten and forgiven if they only wanted it enough and worked hard enough for it. And she made them, by her kindness, WANT to work for it.

At least, she did for Haruka. And Michiru was kind, so very kind, that Haruka could not imagine she would withhold this sort of positivity from anyone. That she, Haruka, was a good or special enough person to be the only one drawing out this feeling.

Michiru made a small, sleepy sound and rolled over restlessly in the bed. Haruka closed her eyes a moment and just listened to the small sound, made beautiful by Michiru’s voice, as it for a moment blotted out the sound of the clock.

There was no way to live up to that – to Michiru’s kindness, her talent, her way with people. When she tried, Haruka would only feel like a poor imitation, a pretender to the world her partner inhabited so naturally.

She was not so strong a person as that. She was not a mirror. She was only a sword. Something which can, depending on its use, attack or defend. A strength, her own strength. Michiru was more than able to take care of herself, but that didn’t matter. That was another level of security – knowing that if she, the sword failed, then whoever had defeated her would have an equal fight on their hands.

No, she didn’t protect because Michiru needed protecting. She protected because it was her gift, something tangible that she could offer to Michiru when she was unaware, when she was sleeping, when she was sharing her music with the world, in the hundred other normal moments she was sometimes able to steal in a day. Something given in the same unconscious way Michiru gave so much.

Something given because to try to put name or thought to what else they offered one another – that one word encompassing a gulf of emotion so deep and endless it defied true description – was too much to face. Just feeling it, trying to contain it within herself, sometimes seemed like it would overwhelm her. In a way, she feared it, but she also embraced it. And the only way she could consciously think to try to explain it was through action… through protecting her.

The woman she loved.

So she stayed awake, at least a while longer each night. Sometimes she sat up until a voice, murmuring and sleepy, asked her in that half-awake drawl common to awoken sleepers, if she was coming to bed. She would watch, so that for a little while, Michiru could dream in peace.

No, there was no such thing as peaceful sleep, not anymore, likely not ever. But there could, for a time, be safety. Her gift.

Her love.

lissibith @ 2007-08-20T16:41:00

2007-08-20T20:42:29Z

Happy Birthday Luco-Millian! I should have waited and posted your fic today. :-/ Withing you all the best today and through the year. :)

lissibith @ 2007-08-19T22:57:00

2007-08-20T02:58:09Z

On a random note, I think I may apply for Hogwarts_elite at http://community.livejournal.com/sorting_elite/600900.html. It seems like a really good community. I know Sanalith is a member there (and got me interested). Anyone else a member there?

lissibith @ 2007-08-19T16:43:00

2007-08-19T20:49:21Z

Second story! Woot!

“Bleeding Ink”
Fandom: One Piece
Rating/Warnings: PG for some swearing
WC: 1,386
Disclaimer: I don’t in any way own the world, characters or plot elements of this. Only the order of words is mine.

Disclaimer 2: Writing Sanji’s POV turned out to be a lot more complicated than I’d hoped it would be. If I ever write fanfic beyond this group I’ll have to practice first. If this doesn’t work for you, Luco_millian, let me know and I’ll give another shot.

There were times when finding a quiet corner to just think and do some work could be impossible on this ship. The delightful Nami-san had recounted these difficulties on more than one occasion, coming up on deck and shouting for everyone to cut the shit so she could work on her latest map.

He’d often defended her right to quiet, but next time, Sanji thought his defense might be a little more vehement. Metal clanked loudly from two different points on the ship as Zoro trained and Franky… he didn’t want to know what caused the cyborg to make mechanical sounds. Usopp had convinced Chopper and Luffy that there were invisible insects burrowing through the ships wood and trying to lay eggs in their clothes. Their screams of horror and amusement (and his laughter) filtered not only through the kitchen with its closed door, but into the larder through yet another width of wood.

Grinding his half-smoked cigarette between his teeth, Sanji forced himself to put pen to paper. On finding what he wanted them for, Nami had been kind enough to lend him both. Distractions or no, din that would make some festivals pale in comparison or no, he would not waste them. And as for the letter… well, after everything, he supposed he owed shitty old peg-leg Zeff something.

So, where to begin? At the beginning, he guessed. Like a meal, a letter had certain ingredients, and a certain amount of creativity in between. And the first ingredient should be, he supposed, a polite greeting.

Shitty old man,

After he’d committed these three words to the paper, he stared at the blank space beneath. There was a LOT of it. Shaking his head a little to himself, he re-dipped the quill, tapped loose some excess ink, and began writing once more.

The Grand Line’s one screwed-up place. You could’ve said something huh? Well, if you were hoping I’d wind up dead out here, sorry to disappoint you. Not only can I kick the asses of most of the weak excuses for pirates crawling this place, you wouldn’t believe some of the great cooking techniques I’ve picked up on some of the islands, and

A jarring crash from overhead, followed by the unmistakable pulsing rumble of a loose cannonball rolling across the floor, drew Sanji’s attention away from the paper. Whatever had happened, he could hear Zoro complaining and Robin laughing. Muttering a curse under his breath, Sanji winced as the sound of running feet god louder and there was a BANG as someone (several someones actually, from the sound of it) burst into the kitchen. One long leg shot out and planted itself firmly against said door just as something crashed into it from the other side. With his other leg braced on the floor, the door did little more than shudder. There was a moment’s surprised silence from the other side, as whoever was out there contemplated the oddity of the structure not simply giving way. Then they were off again, followed by the clatter of pots against the floor.

Great, he’d JUST washed those. He considered going out after them, but joining in their idiotic game of tag seemed like a waste of time and if he stopped now, who knew if he’d get a chance to come back to the letter? The crew did have an unnatural (but entertaining, he had to concede) ability to find trouble in massive, almost ludicrous quantities.

After rolling his eyes theatrically for the benefit of all the dry goods that shared the room with him, he reread what he had so far and sighed. He had NO idea how he’d planned on ending that last line. He dipped the quill again and shook a drop of ink over the “and.” The shimmery black puddle quickly obscured the errant word. A little sand for blotting and he was back to the letter again.

Actually you probably do. Some of the food out here even makes me miss that floating piece of shit you call a restaurant. Some of these places… no respect for technique, for subtlety. Kinda like this crew you stuck me with.

Reminds me a bit of the crew at the Baratie. Not too much brains between them, but they know what they’re doing most of the time. Always gotta keep an eye on them though, especially our idiot captain. You remember him. The one who busted up the restaurant? The kitchen boy. Feels like I always have to watch him. The fool is always in trouble. Though you know… he’s pretty good at getting out of it too. He eats like a Sea King. I’d take it as a compliment, if he didn’t follow eating a meal with trying to eat raw meat out of the stores. Or worse, trying to eat something he just grabbed out of the air. Jeeze, if he dies before he finds One Piece, it’ll be something he just picked up and ate.

The lone visible brow furrowed in toward the middle of the cook’s forehead as he frowned at the letter so far. Since when had he gotten so wordy with the shitty geezer? It was all that empty space on the paper, he decided. Felt like a waste, not using all the space.

I still don’t get the rest of them. The swordsman, Zoro, the one who faced Mihawk that time? He’s still got the scar. A sign of the stupidity of fighting with utensils instead of your body, I think. He really is an idiot but there’s something… he has no sense of style, no respect for women, but that guy, he’s loyal to this crew. It’s eerie. He doesn’t question things, just does whatever the captain says.

The pen hovered a scant fraction of an inch over the paper, as several thoughts to complete that paragraph warred in his head. He cast another glance toward the door before finishing up lamely.

He fights fairly well though, considering. That I understand.

There’s two extraordinary women in the crew. They’re beautiful, talented, strong-willed and have excellent taste in food and clothes. Not that I’d expect a dried-up old man like you to understand that. When’s the last time you looked at a woman as anything other than a source of money? I’d include one of Usopp’s pictures (he was the last one who was sailing with the captain at the time, the long-nosed guy, remember him?) of them but I’m afraid it might give a geezer like you a heart attack, and as big a floating pile of shit as that restaurant is, there’s no way it’d survive without you bashing their heads into the walls to keep ‘em in line.

As he paused to sand-blot the ink once more, he was surprised to see he’d actually filled most of the paper with his scrawling script. It had been ages since he’d taken the time to write something. Now that he was, it seemed to be boiling over. He thought about trying to explain Franky, but decided against it. He wasn’t sure he COULD explain Franky. What kind of cyborg ran on cola?

He shook his head and scrubbed the fingers of his free hand through his hair. Time to finish this up. He was thinking too much.

I guess I better leave it at that. Not a lot of time. Somehow we pissed off those assholes at the World Government. You should have seen their flag burn. And if I hear word one about anyone laughing at that wanted poster - especially Patty - I’ll travel back from here personally to kick their ass. That goes double for you. Black-leg, how about that? THIS is what you saved a scrawny kid for.

Another pause, another ingredient. The closing. Letters didn’t just end. He thought a minute. Then, slowly, he smiled and traced out five more words.

I’m going to find it.

As he signed his name, he could hear another ruckus kicking up overhead. It hadn’t ramped up to where he could even guess what they were doing yet. He’d know soon enough. Unexpectedly, the thought teased a wry smile onto his face.

It was funny, he reflected as he folded up the letter and pocketed it for later mailing, how easily life could change.

lissibith @ 2007-08-19T15:26:00

2007-08-19T19:28:06Z

Wow, I forgot how hard writing is. Sorry these are taking a while. Here’s the first, for Wattie, who wanted Moody’s death scene. (My apology on the timeline is in disclaimer 2). Hoping to get a second up shortly.

“Who wants to live forever?”
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating/Warnings: PG I guess, for character death. Slightly AU, based in the end of book 6.
WC: 2,129
Disclaimer: I don’t in any way own the world, characters or plot elements of this. Only the order of words is mine.

Disclaimer 2: Wattie, I hated that flight-in-the-night scene where the death actually happened, so I went AU and moved it up. If you don’t like, let me know and I’ll give something else a go. :)

No matter how many times people might say it, Moody didn’t think he was immortal. It wasn’t as though by being cautious – paranoid, some might say, but let ‘em – he could somehow prolong life indefinitely. In his mind, wanting to live forever would be the real paranoia. Anyone with half a grain of sense knew there were other things, perhaps greater things on the other side of that thin wall that separated life and death.

No, there was no worry about living forever. The real worry was in leaving something important incomplete. In crossing through that wall before the optimum time.

It was both wearying and enlightening, the day he looked into the mirror and saw reflected there, a life.

Weary had described his life for a few years, he thought as he stumped around the dimly lit kitchen, getting tea. Oh, not that he’d say anything, but he could feel it, deep down. Even before he’d been asked about the job at Hogwarts, before there had truly been talk of reforming the order… all of it. He could remember when news had leaked to him through one of his many channels that the son of Lily and James Potter claimed he’d faced Voldemort in the body of one of the school teachers.

There had been a time such news would have sent him into an intense, dangerous mode, as though his veins ran with fire whiskey instead of blood and someone had touched a match to it. No more. Oh, he wanted Voldemort dead and gone. REALLY dead and gone, and more power if he could manage it himself, impossible as he knew that to be. But charging in and waving his wand about, the rush that came from bringing the self-inflated Death Eaters to the justice of the ministry… that was for younger people.

He had grown cautious. Part of him mourned that change, that loss of spontaneity. When had he come to live his life looking behind him?

He had just poured himself a cuppa when a silvery glow glided through the door, nearly unbearably bright after the guttering illumination of the long candle he’d lit. He was instantly up, wand out, tea abandoned and knocked over.

It was a cat, tabby-marked and businesslike. It stopped on the floor near him, heedless of his wand, and spoke to him with a stern, tense voice.

“Death Eaters in Hogwarts. Hurry.”

It evaporated as soon as this message had been delivered, but those five words were enough to hear the edge of barely restrained worry and fear in McGonagall’s voice. Wand still in hand, Moody slammed through the door. Coat. Broom. Hurry.

Alone in the empty kitchen, the candle guttered, twice, then blew out.

_________________________________

Moody had several routes, including the one to Hogwarts, committed to memory not just one way, but several in case people were watching the skies. He dispensed with much decision-making and just took the most direct route through the night sky. If anyone saw him, they could have their memories modified later. If he was attacked… well, he’d never fooled himself on the account of his skill in battle. He wouldn’t be turning midair cartwheels, but it’d certainly take more than one or two of them to bring him down.

He felt almost disappointed when, as he neared Hogwarts, none had shown in the skies to challenge him.

Upon arrival, he found he was joining a battle already well in progress. Teacher and students – some of whom probably still thought with part of their mind he’d taught them in this very school – were dueling against the cowardly servants of darkness. Grown men and women attacking children. Well, at least the children were making a good account of themselves from the look of things.

He ducked a jet of green light flung haphazardly from the wand of a tall, blond man and noticed a group running down one of the side hallways. Through the smoke and falling debris, they were little more than outlines. No one else had noticed them that he could see. And he knew this place well enough, despite the noted lack of having actually taught here. He knew the hallways.

That path would take them to the Ravenclaw section of the castle. That path would take them to students, possibly asleep, possibly unaware. With a muttered oath, he shambled into a run after them.

Whatever the movies might say (and you’d find a lot of wizards with a passing interest in the cinema – it was one of the closest things the muggles had to magic) having a fight on the hoof was not easy. Rarely were the shots during such a fight, especially from the group in front, anywhere close to the mark. Moody’s eye was spinning wildly as he ran, seeking out any of those he was following who might grow the balls to stop and try to ambush him -as much courage as THAT took. It was likely the best they would do.

The air felt odd. Thick. Ahead, he saw a bit of movement and ducked as someone shot off a spell without even looking, missing him but blowing a sizeable crated in one wall. A wave of rock dust surged across in front of him, but he didn’t put down his guard even enough to put a sleeve over his mouth. The grit tasted like rotted wood and musty vaults. He spat and rounded the corner, almost on top of the ambusher.

He didn’t recognize the man, and didn’t care to. Their wands descended nearly in unison, some strange ballet of the arms, but he was trying to speak a spell. Moody didn’t bother. He didn’t need to. The feeling of fierce bitterness and anger that this was all happening AGAIN welled up, pushed past his mind, down into his wand, loosing itself in a vicious jinx that flipped the man up and hard into the wall.

He wasn’t moving as he crumpled to the floor. Moody didn’t even slow.

Another corner and he was coming up on a T-shaped intersection. A shadow moved, twisted, and he threw himself to one side as the air around him seemed to heat abruptly and painfully. White light filled his vision, blinding even the fake eye, and for a moment, he could only cover his head and wait it out. He wasn’t even sure WHAT it was. Something new, it seemed.

The moment the light began to fade, he was moving again, first on all fours. The light had done as much damage to the ability of the others to see, or so it seemed. He was against the right wall, and to the left, behind a huge old sundial in the branch, stood the caster. Taking a moment to aim, Moody took careful aim through the green afterimage and shot off a full body bind curse. The sound of his target’s head hitting the stone floor was audible.

It also almost covered the sound of a footstep.

He looked up to see a new form stepping in front of him and raising her wand. The angle was bad for Moody to bring a spell into play. Curse this body, he thought as he tried to reverse and move to the side, challenging her aim. The world had moved on more than he had. He could feel it in his legs, too slow, too slow…

His lips murmured a spell as hers did. Years of practice gave him the edge. The shot of silver light flew from his wand, far to the right of his target, a half breath before her own spell hit.

“Crucio.”

Years could not dull pain, contrary to the fine words of the fancy, soft-minded poets, but those who spent their lives DOING things knew time could inure you to pain. It hurt, blindingly, agonizingly, but there was still an edge of reason in Moody’s mind as he collapsed to his knees again. Just one small gesture with the wand. Just a flick, and then waiting and trying not to shout out, to give her the satisfaction.

And as abruptly as it began, it fled, leaving his muscles feeling over-extended but very much his own again. Lip curling in a decent imitation of an angry dog, he swung his wand in a wide arc. Green again, a brilliant, dying flash, and then she was gone. Her form, lifeless and staring, fell untidily in a heap. He couldn’t feel pity. To be distracted by so foolish a tactic as a patronus “attack”? It couldn’t even harm her. Was Voldemort recruiting bloody children to his cause still?

Cautiously, he approached the intersection again. There should be one more. One more and he could go back to the REAL fighting.

A quick scan showed no other people waiting in the immediate area, but for the corpse and the petrified man. He took the moment to cast one more spell here, and then followed the left-hand branch. The battle cooled behind him. Ahead, this way, lay the Ravenclaw area. With no better immediate clues, it seemed like the most likely target. At this point, any target was better than none.

It felt almost like the old days. He didn’t think this consciously, but felt it on his skin, in his muscles, like the lift that certain potions could give you, the feeling that you could do no wrong. Pushing himself a little more, he found his pace picking up. The urgency of the situation seemed to have lent youth to his movements.

There. He didn’t need to see, he could hear someone just ahead, breathing somewhat hard. A wand tapped lightly, rapidly against the castle’s ancient, spell-bound walls down a connected hallway ahead and to the right. He considered a stop, but shook off the thought almost as fast and plunged ahead, straight across the mouth of the side-space. He heard a hitched breath, saw with his more mobile eye the man prepare to hurl a spell, but he didn’t stop to reply in kind or throw up a block. He’d wanted to be sure he wasn’t catching some scared student out of their common area. It wasn’t. The red blur of the man’s attack said that as clearly as his twisted features.

“Is that Alastor Moody?” the Death Eater asked from around the corner, his voice seeming a little wild. Scared, Moody thought grimly. “I understand you’ve spent some time here recently. Welcome back. I assure you this time won’t be as pleasant though. No naps. Just death.”

Moody didn’t waste words. Bantering too much with your enemy was only foolishness and arrogance. He pulled his flask out, glanced regretfully at its cap, then flung it sidearm across the floor. He followed suit immediately, keeping low and ducking around the corner just in time to see the wide-eyed man cast a spell toward the clattering sound of metal on stone. His spell hit and the flash exploded.

A moment later and Moody’s spell sent him back-first into the wall, as though some invisible giant had put a palm to his chest and slammed him backward. His head snapped forward after hitting the wall. As he landed face-down, Moody could see a trickle of blood making its way along the man’s neck.

Suddenly feeling intensely weary. Moody straightened up and walked over to the form. He wasn’t that old. Fear had frozen in his expression as he died. It was a waste, he thought. There was no way this frightened cub of a man had accomplished the half of what he wanted to do. If he-

New pain, a diagonal slash of white across his back. Gritting his teeth against it, he stumbled forward into the wall, then slid down it, turning as he did. He’d landed next to that Death Eater, he noticed in a detached way, and the head wound must have been worse than he thought. There was blood all over the floor.

Footsteps. Near the intersection. He’d hid there. Eyes roved, unfocused, refocused.

A man. A wand. Pale material. Kept moving like it was conducting. Moody heard no music.

Two wands, one motion. Colors. Muddled. Music? No, a shout. Pain. Not him. Footsteps. A clatter. A wand on the floor? His? He could feel his. Was it raised? Yes. No.

Focus.

But there was no focus. The wand, still in his hand, dropped reluctantly to his waist. Slacked fingers released it to rest against the fabric of his coat. Two eyes were open, but only one still saw, and the things it saw went to nowhere, lost images faded out in the green.

He would be found. He would be mourned. But it didn’t matter. This was the shell. And somewhere, celebrating, was the life.

lissibith @ 2007-08-16T15:25:00

2007-08-16T19:21:53Z

Am I the only one completely excited by the prospect of Pit (Kid Ikarus) and Ike (Fire Emblem PoR) in the same Smash Bros. game?

Stories!

2007-08-14T20:32:30Z

The first 15 people to comment on this post get to request a quick fic of a subject/character of their choosing from me. In return, they have to post this in their journal ((optional: not all of you people draw or write. But appreciated if you do this!)). Post all fandoms you're willing to work with.

Fandoms I'll work with include:
D.Gray-Man
One Piece
DS9
X/1999
Yami no Matsuei
Lullaby
DNAngel

There’s others, feel free to ask, but have a backup from the list in case I’m completely unaware of the fandom. I can also take a stab at something original, but it’ll be a little tougher.

Stories will be at least 500 words, up to as many as the story ends up wanting.

lissibith @ 2007-07-01T17:44:00

2007-07-01T21:46:27Z

Colleen Clinkenbeard as Luffy.
Eric Vale as SAnji.
CHRIS SABBAT as Zolo.
SONNY STRAIT AS USOPP!!!

Gods, I cannot WAIT for the Funi version of One Piece.

lissibith @ 2006-05-17T22:59:00

2006-05-18T03:00:18Z

CRap.

I thought the deadline was June 17.

It was May 17.

No AMV contest for Liss this year.

Last Fantasy

2006-05-04T04:02:59Z

You all might remember I commented on a comic called "Last Fantasy" previously as a series I've started collecting. Well, I read the first book, loved one character, loved the humor and thought the art was pretty good. I certainly own worse. Overall, it grew on me and I liked it.

Well, I finally got around to reading the whole author's diatribe on the back pages a couple days ago, and have since decided that despite liking it, I will not be reading any further. Why? Because their author's note condemns scanning and passing the pages around on the internet. Well, I can agree with that. So what's the big deal? They go on to say they also don't want people who own this book *loaning* it to other people, and that if those people cannot like it enough to buy it themselves, the artists would rather they not read it at all.

They then added that anyone who creates books for a living would feel the same way.

I have to say, I wouldn't. If someone bought my book, then wanted to loan it around, I'd encourage it. Why? Because that's how a LOT of people get hooked on an author or series. Why should me, my sister and my friends all pay $10 for a book that we might or might not like? Whereas, if I like it a lot after reading a borrowed copy, I might well get it myself. I feel fairly confident that at least one person I loaned it too was planning on getting it. I've since told him not to bother.

They don't want people reading it who haven't paid for it? Fine. But trying to make people who honestly like it feel guilty about trying to get others to like it is backfiring, at least in my case...

lissibith @ 2006-03-28T23:33:00

2006-03-28T23:39:07Z

Weird question, I suppose.

Suppose you have two friends who you know, without a doubt (call it divine inspiration) would be perfect for one another and fall madly in love. And suppose they don't know one another and have no occasion to meet normally. And suppose one's terminally ill, and going to die fairly soon. Is it kinder in reality to introduce them, or not? I don't mean in the whole overly romantic way that would elicit an automatic and unthinking "of course they must meet, it's destiny" way. In reality, is it kinder not to let the sick person know what they're missing, losing? Is it kinder to allow the healthy person to go on to find other love without this memory hanging over them, a standard against which everyone else will be judged? Or is it kinder to let them have that brief, imperfect but sweet happiness? Why? Thoughts?

And for anyone reading this as a visitor, most of this journal is friends-only, so if you followed a profile link to here, friend to read most of the entries.

lissibith @ 2006-03-08T23:44:00

2006-03-09T03:07:46Z

You are Yuna!
You scored 21 good or evil, 12 spirituality, -12 power, and 17 intelligence!

Undeniably innocent and intelligent with the slightest - almost
invisible - hint of corruption, Yuna, the daughter of High Summoner
Braska draws on strong beliefs, her quiet wisdom and the wealth of
friendships around her to strike out and defend Spira from Sin.
Physical strength is perhaps her only real disability, but she makes up
for it with a strong connection to the metaphysical through her deep
faith. Throughout FFX, Yuna is faced with a constant stream of tragedy,
but she never loses hope - always moving forward with her faith in her
heart. Even when that faith proved false, she kept on and fought to
find something else to believe in, determined not to give in to Sin's
whims. Finally finding a way to defeat Sin's cycle of torment, Yuna
again faced tragedy as she faced the loss of her love. Ever determined
and hopeful, she kept going on until finally recapturing what she was
denied for her sacrifices.
Aligned with good, faithful and intelligent, if a bit weak, you are
probably a very determined person with a strong belief in something -
whether it be God or Starbucks Coffee is up to you. Chances are if you
have that much determination coupled with keen knowledge, you'll get
far in the world. Just try not to dwell too much on what you might be
lacking strength-wise, and you should do well.
Similar Characters include Rinoa(ff8), Relm(ff6), Ramza(fft)
Your Polar opposite is Kefka. You can probably get along with Bahamut,
and you may be able to tolerate Sephiroth or Delita.

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:

You scored higher than 86% on purity
You scored higher than 60% on faith
You scored higher than 2% on strength
You scored higher than 57% on intelligence

Link: The Who are you in the FF Universe Test written by Helbereth on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

lissibith @ 2006-03-06T22:46:00

2006-03-06T22:46:36Z

As stolen, out of boredom

Your Stripper Song Is

Pour Some Sugar on Me by Def Leppard

"Love is like a bomb, baby, c'mon get it on
Livin' like a lover with a radar phone
Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp
Demolition woman, can I be your man?"

Break out the baby oil, you rock it old school.

What Song Should You Strip To?

lissibith @ 2006-03-02T23:39:00

2006-03-03T04:40:20Z

For fun.

http://www.personaldna.com/report.php?k=YggIcmYRMNUHmUe-HL-AACCA-7042&u=cb12a98e46e2

lissibith @ 2006-02-28T15:38:00

2006-02-28T15:42:15Z

Meh. Writing an abused character sucks. I don't get how people can want to write this into so many fanfic characters. Just the research was terrible (Big thanks to all my psychology friends out there - I at least knew where to start). The idea of someone IRL actually acting like this turns my stomach. Bleh. And now I'm terrified I'll get it wrong. :-/ Well, I said I wanted more angst in my writing, to try to get away from the silly stuff I usually write. I guess I got it.