Hilariously my dungeon meshi brainrot is actually turning out to be an obstacle for writing mdzs fic?? And not in the 'can't focus due to shiny new hyperfixation' way either it's because of a philosophical conflict between the two works. It's not like they're complete opposites or anything but in mdzs and the cultivation genre at large the act of finding balance and spiritual enlightenment leads to this... slowing and even halting of the cycle of life. You can go without eating or sleeping, prolong your lifespan and even become immortal and these are all good admirable things to strive for. Meanwhile in dungeon meshi that would not fly at all like the whole story is an exploration on how trying to extract yourself from the cycle of life and the natural ecosystem you're a part of is actually really bad and you shouldn't do it. All living things need to eat and all will eventually be eaten!!
So when i've been rotating dunmeshi all day and wanna get to one of my wips i have to actively rewire my brain before I start going "Inedia is a violation of the natural cycle of consumption and being consumed" girl that is NOT the energy that's needed here.
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who: @manaliimanderly
where: white harbour, following the discovery and rescue of manal manderly from the little king. upon her rescue, manal was escorted immediately to white harbour whilst nasir stayed behind to eviscerate the camp.
two weeks; two weeks had passed since the fateful night where the silhouette of the ruling lord of white harbour had pushed through the flaps of a tent that would have done nothing to maintain any sense of warmth or heat in the freezing temperatures of the wilderness of the north. in the nights leading up to the final attack, he had thought much on what would be running through his mind the moment he set eyes upon his sister once again, who had been missing for months. nearing a year, with nothing but the word of treacherous vermin to confirm she remained alive - that, and a hunch.
he wondered whether he would be able to say anything, what would come to mind, but as he pushed open the flap of that tent, the sight before him was enough to cause nothing but silence to befall him.
he remembered seeing the ropes that had caused her skin to burn and bleed, double roped and double knotted, and he barely even made eye contact as he moved to cut her hands free. and when nasir manderly finally looked upon his little sister, it was only to look upon her; there was not a word that came from his mouth. not merely out of adrenaline, but out of fear; fear that his voice would not be able to stop, or fear that the slight choking sob that threatened to escape from his lips would only become louder. his hands trembled as he cut her free from the pole she had been tied to, his eyes only breaking from hers to look around for anyone else: there was nobody else.
everybody else, all the other captives of women who looked just like her, had been killed. she was the only one left - for how long?
everything else was a blur, the way in which they crept to the outskirts of the camp, looking over the corners of various makeshift huts and tents, their breaths held. manal manderly had never had to watch the way in which her brothers had been trained to become warriors; to be less human, but the wolf of the banner they supported so ferociously. only, she had been forced to witness the brother who was once the epitome of grace and civility in the north turn ruthless killer. one would think he gutted the throats of the guards who they needed to creep up upon, to ensure their yells of attempting to raise the alarm went with nobody but the trees to witness and to hear the sounds of men gurgling on their own blood, their tongues ripped out.
and then she had been put upon a horse, which was when he finally opened his mouth to speak to her. resting bloodstained hands behind her head, he cradled her as though he never would get the chance to again: knowing with whatever happened next, his mother would see her daughter again. "i will be home. until you reach our lands, do not stop." the manderly men knew the instructions: the ride would be a hard one. but they could not afford to stop. and then the horse sped off, and nasir manderly tuned back with the other men who had come to support him.
the little king had slipped away, but the camp and his strength had been desecrated. there were young boys in his amy, boys who cried for their mothers; and nasir gave them words of comfort before cutting their short lives ever shorter.
and now, they were back within the walls of white harbour; she had made it home before him. amir was the only one who was yet to return from the isle of skagos and the majority of the fleet, but three of the four were home. his steps left the chambers of his wife and his newborn son khalid, some hours after he entered to see her: because he had wanted to give her time to prepare herself before seeing him again. and when he knocked on the door, he cleared his throat in the way he always did: and when he heard the door unclick, he pushed it open and entered. she looked more like herself again. only, she was not herself, was she?
nasir knew of the effects of war. he knew the effects of terror. but what befell her, was not war - merely terror. he looked upon her, his aura remaining peaceful and calm - he prayed she did not see the regret and the guilt that danced in his eyes. his hand remained on the doorknob, knowing it were important to allow captures to be in a room with an open door: to know they always had an escape. he dealt with his men this way, ones that had been returned as prisoners of war. he never thought he'd deal with his own little sister in such a way.
"i let the servants touch nothing, to ensure everything was the same when you returned." he uttered, indicating toward the letters that remained on her desk from when she was away in the reach. he only extended his hand, offering for her to take it if she wanted. "i've got you. come here. come to me."
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not the best photos in the world, but i realised i don't have to sew a custom back rest cover... i can just pad stitch on the wrestling shirts i rarely wear! i just have to figure out where to stick my wrestling patches now. merch breakdown:
the all delste wrestling shirt is from prowrestlingtees, the ECW arena keychain is from mikknacks, i have to ask mango where the sesshomaru keychain is from but he's not the focus, the bat bag is from a midnightspringsdeco kickstarter that was an absolute horror show. the wayne industries lanyard is just there to hold the bat bag shut from pickpockets and mango found it at five below
the pins are hard to see, but from left to right: black panthers pin from burning books (buffalo book store), ghost kitty pin from hot topic, limetown pin from... a giveaway the podcast did to promote the book launch, i believe?
the patches are from my favourite etsy shop, zombiegentlemanart! the phantom of the paradise patch is also from them but we're not here to talk about winslow. i highly recommend grabbing some wrestling patches, they're very affordable for how high quality they are
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Thinking about a certain scene in Dungeon Meshi that completely encapsulates the Autistic experience of making friends as an adult and how hard it is to try and navigate it without ending up getting hurt.
Like IDK about y'all, but this is a common problem ALOT of Autistic Adults face when trying to make friends with other people, because unlike children who aren't good at keeping their opinions to themselves, Adults ARE. In society, we're even encouraged to "keep the peace" "be polite" and etc, which commonly leads to awful scenarios as shown above when Laois finds out his buddy has come to resent who Laois is without actually telling him. All too often the friends that we love to hang out with, people that we're so happy to spend time with, don't feel the same way and in many cases, come to blame us for our social cues or lack thereof.
And when/if we do eventually find out how our friend feels, Dungeon Meshi hits us with another painful panel of how that usually ends up playing out.
It's hard for Adults with Autism to make friends, and even harder to maintain them because alot of the ways Neurotypicals tell other Neurotypicals that they don't like a certain behavior is by quietly disengaging. Whether that involves having one sentence answers, going quiet, or having a certain tone in their voice, all those things signal annoyance or disapproval, but for the Neurodivergents, those subtle cues are completely missed.
And yet when we inevitably discover we DID do something, it is natural to ask "well why didn't you tell me?" because in our minds, it should've been the next step in the equation. However for the Neurotypicals, that's NOT something to bring up. Its important to be SUBTLE about the issue at hand and rely on signals to tell the other person. Blame is placed on us for not noticing the "obvious" signs of disapproval rather than the idea of talking it out as such things are uncomfortable and harder to do. Alot of the time what ends up happening is resentment due to the idea that it was "obvious" and the fact one didn't notice indicates a deliberate ignorance rather than a complete unawareness. It ends up calling into question our quality as a person and our sincerity. We get called "fake" or "malicious" or even "stupid" for failing social cues rather than questioning the decision to be indirect and vague.
For a manga about exploring the dungeon, it seems that the artist would rather explore very real and prevalent dynamics in society with the adventuring premise as a backdrop. I felt VERY seen in these panels, and many others, because it happens so suddenly and dare I say it, plainly. There's no dramatic build-up or spectacle made and in essence, it just Happens.
I think that's what makes the scene hit even harder. It seemingly comes out of nowhere for Laois, like how it always comes out of nowhere for alot of people, and it's never a dramatic twist either. It's always mundane and hurtful. A sudden unforeseen bump in the road that ends up calling into question one's entire friendship with someone and consequent other friendships. It asks "what if other friends feel the same. What if the people that I really like actually hate me and I don't know it?" Or at least that's what I came away with after reading the chapter. I've been where Laois was and the only reason I'm not there now is because I lost the naivete I had and doubt everyone else's sincerity.
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