#{ such as knowing how to use thieves tools

[seat-safety-switch]

When we were kids, we didn't have access to cool power tools. Every summer, when the soapbox derby race was coming, we'd break into my neighbour's garage while he was at work. Then, we'd use his drill press, lathe, table saw, all the fun tools. Over the course of a week, a race car was produced, which is more than the workshop ever made during the rest of the year.

Sure, we could have asked him if we could have borrowed his tools, but no doubt he would want to be there to supervise. And then he'd want to help. We'd never get done while we were busy indulging the suburb-tinged fantasies of someone who didn't take wood shop and chose instead to idly worship at the altar of Television Presents: The Fantasy of Bob Vila in adulthood.

One year, Old Man Garrett got a security system. Probably this was because Ted (fucking Ted) didn't clean up the sawdust that one time like we asked him to. The old man must have seen the footprint, and realized that he did not wear size-seven Nikes. Child thieves, casing his precious table saw! Now, our humble breaking-and-entering had become significantly more difficult than "reach a coat hanger under the door and pull the emergency release."

With the help of some of the high-school kids who were taking electronics class, we managed to defeat the security system. We did so using an ancient Japanese technique known as "distract Old Man Garrett while he's setting it, and then cut the wires to the panel." I think it loses something in translation, but you get the gist of it. That year's car was especially sweet.

In adulthood, I got drunk and bragged to some work buddies about our little scam. They responded in abject horror, because I was still occupying the weird hump in the middle of a normal distribution of "acceptable crimes." It was terrifying to them to see one of their own, one of the suburbanites, speak openly about largely-harmless property crimes. What if we had been hurt, they shrieked. Around the water cooler, I would become a pariah, unless I could make amends.

I did hunt down Old Man Garrett after that, still feeling the sting of rejection. He was still on the property, and he still had a beautiful collection of immaculate cabinet-making tools in the garage. I rang his doorbell and, when he answered, I told him the whole story. He laughed.

"I knew it was you dumb shits from the beginning," he bragged. "Fucking Ted -"

"Fucking Ted," I echoed, unconsciously.

"Fucking Ted left his library book on building race cars behind on the workbench that first year. You didn't let him drive, did you?"

I shook my head. "We ran the car into him if the hockey-stick brakes ever failed."

We had a good laugh about the whole thing that evening, and I returned to work with my soul cleansed. It's just a pity Ted didn't know how bad he actually was at crime, before he tried to knock over that liquor store and all.

[technovillain]

my d.e. fanskills set

these are based on my own personality. so just allow me to be nerdy and vaguely vulnerable for a second.

INTELLECT

SCAFFOLD: call back to past solutions to problems. You are a seasoned professional who can make a Venn diagram of any two situations. This is always appropriate. Cool for: Architects, Think-Tankers, Technical Support

IDEOLOGY: apply your truths. Bring those Philosophy 101 facts to the forefront and show everyone you know how the system works. Fuck the man. Fight the power. Cool for: Soapboxers, Revolutionaries, Activists

REFERENCE: recall previous facts and information you have stored in your head. Cool for: Scholars, Expert Witnesses, Archivists

THREAD: tie unrelated things together to form new concepts or truths. Easily led astray by distraction. Cool for: Conspiracists, Investigators, Crossword Champions

RACONTEUR: tell a story, be it true or false. Is the web you weave convincing? More importantly, does it baffle and dazzle the mind? Cool for: Authors, Compulsive Liars, Dungeon Masters

EVERGREEN: your childlike, everlasting hunger to learn more, and to learn everything. A potted plant frustrated by its root space. Cool for: Finger-Painters, Those Who Pine, Renaissance Men

PSYCHE

APRÉS MOI: look forward to the consequences of the future. See yourself return to the clay and find what remains. Cool for: Dark Poets, Forensic Scientists, Prognosticators

MOTLEY: a fool from a fantasy world. Thinks nothing of the mortal realm and encourages escapism through imagination. Cool for: Spiraling Entertainers, the Absent-Minded, Nincompoops

SOLICITUDE: show compassion and understanding to those around you. You've been there before, reassure them. Cool for: Village Elders, Veterinarians, the Lonely

MATRYOSHKA: connect with versions of yourself long gone. Different names, the shunned, the dearly missed, hold court with them all. Cool for: Introspects, Therapists, Those with Identity Disorders

L'APPEL DU VIDE: think of all the ways it could go wrong. Usually unnecessary and distressing, occasionally enlightening. Occasionally allows you to get into the mindset of a lunatic. Cool for: People on the Edge, Paranoiacs, Health & Safety Inspectors

BREECHES: you're a big boy, you're a grown up, these are facts that you can believe all the time. People take you seriously. You are confident. Cool for: Fragile Egos, Self-Proclaimed Big Boys, Younger Siblings

PHYSIQUE

GUTS: something is stirring in your stomach. Can you handle it? Cool for: Daredevils, the Honest, Dumpster-Divers

SWIVEL: scope out the room. Locate danger and emergency exits. Trust no one. You aren't paranoid, you're just being more cautious than everyone else. Cool for: Bodyguards, Runaways & Fugitives, Petty Criminals

FLOODGATES: Hold it in. Don't cry, don't emote, don't let them know what you're thinking. Cool for: Feeling-Bottlers, Chronic Tough-Guys, Judiciaries

MULTI-TOOL: be resourceful with your tools. Use everything for multiple purposes, get all the juice out of every fruit in your basket. Cool for: The Frugal, Those Who Hate Doing the Dishes, Tailors

ITCH: encompasses most primal desires. Destruction, feasting, sexual gratification, violence. Cool for: Vandals, Hedonists, Party Animals

VIGOR: the overall state of your immune system and physical health. Your body is a well oiled machine. Cool for: Health Nuts, Olympians, Hypochondriacs

MOTORICS

FLOAT: sneak around, light as a feather. Leave the environment undisturbed. You are a gentle breeze. Cool for: Jewel Thieves, Eavesdroppers, the Forgotten

IGNITION: the adrenaline-fed movements of a maniac. How scared are you? How badly do you want to run away? Cool for: Prey Animals, the Guilty, Cowards

FLUIDITY: loosen your jaw and unclench your fists. You're in control of the situation, and none of this will matter a year from now. Cool for: Yogis, Enlightened Monks, Trusted Leaders

PANACHE: move your body in all the right ways. You are unthinkingly perfect at knowing where to put your hands and feet. Cool for: Masters of Charisma, Dancers, Impressive Show-Offs

CROSSHAIRS: make precise and accurate motions with your body and the tools that you wield. Cool for: Court Stenographers, Sharpshooters, Sign Interpreters

BRUNT: bear a heavy load. You don't need any help with this. Your muscles and joints are forged of steel. Cool for: Heroes of the Working Class, Shot-Putters, Powerlifters

[vixensdungeon]

Alright, time to talk about one of the hot button issues in D&D today: skills, and how they've evolved over the 50-year lifespan of the game. We'll start, of course, from the beginning.

Dungeons & Dragons (1974)

So there actually isn't a skill system here. But the primordial origins are there, in the various neat little procedures of adventuring. Firstly there are languages. Humans know the "common tongue," which at this point isn't a single language, it just refers to the local Lingua Franca. I think all non-human player characters are assumed to be in 20% of other creatures who speak the language along with their own one. You also know an alignment language (Lawful, Chaotic, or Neutral), and one additional creature language for every point of Intelligence above 10.

NPC reactions. This is rolled on a simple 2d6 table for recruiting hirelings. Another 2d6 table is for monster reactions.

Surprise rolls. There are no stealth or perception skills, and adventurers are simply assumed to be sneaking around while in dungeons, with surprise rolled when monsters are encountered.

Doors can be listened at and secret doors found, with simple d6 rolls.

There's also a chance of getting lost in the wilderness, which sort of implies a general ability to not do so in most situations.

And that's basically it! You can already see several different skills we know today forming in the primordial soup.

But you feel like something is missing, right? Ah, of course! We must take a little detour to

Greyhawk (1975)

Did you know that in the original game, the only classes were fighting man, magic-user, and cleric? That's right, the now classic thief would not be introduced until the first supplement! And with them came for the first time actual named skills.

Thieves could open locks, remove traps, listen for noise, move silently, pick pockets, and hide in shadows. Additionally they could read languages, treasure maps, and even magical scrolls at higher levels.

Now, these skills are only for thieves, so what are other characters to do? Well for most of them, nothing. It simply is not a fighter's job to pick pockets, or a cleric's job to open a lock. Certainly an item can be forcefully taken from an NPC, and a door bashed open, so they are not completely helpless in these tasks. But the thief simply excels at doing such things with superior ability and grace. And of course any character can hear noises behind doors, thieves are simply better at it. Moving silently and hiding are two slightly odd skills, as they overlap with surprise rolls but don't interact with them. It can be assumed that a thief moving silently can scout ahead and report back without actually encountering the monsters they find, and a hiding thief can let wandering monsters pass by even when there isn't sufficient cover (as only shadows are needed, other characters can obviously still hide behind cover if they are aware of the need to do so). Other characters can also climb using ropes and other tools, but won't be able to climb sheer surfaces unaided like thieves can, so again the thief can simply do something general in a superior manner.

There are many classes with their own skills to be found in various magazines, but I'm not going to dig through them. So let the totality of original D&D skills be the above.

Next time: we get Advanced

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

if youre still doing classpect discussion im curious as to what you think a Rogue of Rage would do { i have some ideas already but wanna hear from more people }

class = character arc and starting circumstances, aspect = base personality traits and what's considered heroic/unheroic for this character

Rogues are rebels - they feel injustice deep in their bones, and start the game with a sense of discomfort towards the status quo, an innate understanding of the flaws in the system. Nepeta is the only troll to outright say that blood color shouldn't matter, and Roxy is the most vengeful towards the batterwitch, and characterized by going out of her way to support her community of oppressed carapacians. Rufioh, too, was motivated to defect from society entirely, taking up with the Lost Weeaboos out in the woods.

However, this rebelliousness is unfocused. The Rogue knows that something must be changed, but not specifically what; they know they must rebel, but not specifically how. This is reflected in their abilities: while Rogues do have generic abilities from their aspect, like Nepeta's ability to sniff out motivations and romantic feelings amongst her team, or Roxy's ability to turn invisible and wink out of existence, they have difficulty understanding how to tap into even that much, not to mention the greater abilities of their classpect. Rogues often suffer from failure to start, as Nepeta never really got to learn about Heart, Rufioh never really seemed to figure out Breath, and Roxy's arc featured a very long struggle to make Void usable.

Worse than that, however, is that Rogues often become rebels without a cause - they'll break taboos and stick it to "the man" in ways that become actively detrimental to themselves and the team, purely because their sheer rebellious energy must find some sort of outlet. Rufioh cheated on his girlfriend for an extended period of time, Nepeta refusing to listen to Equius's orders to stay hidden and safe leads directly to her death, and Roxy nearly blows Jane up with a fake copy of SBURB in an attempt to make her not play the game, and stick it to the Condy.

However, if their team is able to provide them with direction and clarity, Rogues become a powerful tool in their arsenal. The passive counterpart to Thieves, they excel at allowing others to utilize their aspect, and the specific way they interact with their aspect is to "steal" it. Where a Thief's theft leaves its target debuffed in that aspect - Vriska stealing luck from an underling makes it fall off a cliff to its presumable death - a Rogue's theft actually leaves its target buffed - Roxy stealing the nonexistence from things allows them to spontaneously come into existence.

This powerset is complicated and subversive, just like the Rogue's natural tendency toward rebellion, and requires a helpful party to guide the Rogue's intentions. If they're able to master their abilities, and gain clarity on how to change the systems they know are injust, they become incomparably flexible - possessing an infinite toolbox at their disposal, capable of cracking any lock, solving any puzzle, fixing any problem.

Rage, meanwhile, is perhaps the most enigmatic ability, with secrets and riddles literally being a part of its domain. Void is something of a red herring, in that regard; though the comic often calls it difficult to understand, we see it in use quite often, and can pretty easily derive the shared traits among its players. Void's domain, then, is actually simplicity, pleasure, vice, and sexuality - it deals with many taboos and unspoken things, like substance use and abuse, fetishes, so on and so on - but not really with secrets.

No, secrets are the domain of Rage, as they're practically Kurloz's whole schtick. Moreover, Rage is the opposite of Hope, something a little more well-explored, and between the heroes of all three, and Hussie's words from the book commentary, an understanding of Rage can emerge from the ether.

Something interesting to note about aspect is that the character being at a low point in their character arc practically always concides with them exhibiting inverted aspect character traits. Rose at her lowest is a dumb, sloppy drunk - with intellect being associated with Light, and vice being associated with Void. It isn't that their aspect flips, but that the aspects are set up to be yin and yang, equals and opposites along the same axis, and the dereliction of one comes to resemble the other at its worst. Thus, you can derive some understanding of Rage by knowing that its opposite is Hope, and also, by knowing that Hope players at their worst will often resemble Rage players and its worst traits.

Hope players are, as a rule, shameless. Eridan literally seems incapable of noticing how stupid and embarrassing he comes across as, and phrases his requests as demands, including, at times, to date him. Eridan's our most Hope-y Hope player, being a Prince, and therefore running at an overabundance of his aspect. Cronus is more lowkey, but he's shameless too, hitting on Mituna and Meenah without an iota of self-respect. Jake is a Page, and therefore running at a deficit of some of his aspect's better traits (he's wishy-washy, compared to Hope's usual focus on conviction and faith), but one of its worse traits that he has in excess is shamelessness - shamelessly ghosting Dirk, asking Erisolsprite for advice, whining at Jane over and over, on her damn birthday.

This naked and shameless sincerity - often to the point of embarrassment, and paired with unwavering faith and conviction - suits Hope very well, as Hope is described by Hussie in the book commentary as "a force that defines reality, used to snatch personal meaning from the jaws of a cynical reality". Hope, he explains, literally makes fake things real; Eridan's "white science" is literally just magic given a name he's more comfortable with, and his belief in it turns it into something very real, and very deadly, and Jake makes Brain Ghost Dirk real, which baffles Aranea - a Light player. According to Hussie, it's also "framed as the most fundamentally powerful aspect", and it's consistently seen in the comic as being able to completely no-sell any greater forces of reality - Eridan overcoming Sollux's eye beams, which even the Ahab's Crosshairs, described as the strongest weapon his specibus will allow, couldn't do, or Jake's turbohealed Hope field completely no-selling Jade's Green Sun powers and later, really fucking up a god tiered Caliborn.

Thus, it stands to reason that Rage players are secretive and self-conscious, and this holds true for both of them. Kurloz is noted multiple times to have a deep fondness for riddles and secrets, and Gamzee, too, has a penchant for being sneaky. Gamzee has always been more lucid than he lets on, his internal narration during his introduction showcasing an awareness that his friends don't really like him much, and he lies twice about being "scared" of someone in order to suit his own purposes - one time to keep Eridan from providing Karkat with emotional support after Sollux dies, because it's implied that Gamzee has a palecrush on Karkat, and one time to keep Vriska out of his horn pile, because he doesn't like her.

Shame, in fact, seems to be a defining attribute of Rage - the main thing we get to hear about Kurloz before his Prince meltdown - so, presumably, while he's at an overabundance of Rage - is being so ashamed of deafening Meulin that he takes the drastic action of sewing his own mouth shut and taking a vow of silence. Moreover, Gamzee's crisis of faith is ultimately shadowed by the emotion of shame, as Hussie explains in the book commentary that the reason he reacted so poorly to the ICP Miracles video was that it confronted him with the realization that his entire existence and religion were basically one big joke, an embarrassing parody, and he couldn't deal with the shame. Ultimately, his way of taking revenge is also via totems of fear and shame, with the jester plush in John's dreams causing him to scribble self-loathing, self-shaming comments across his walls. Thus we can derive that Rage encompasses not just shame, but that which is shameful - fear, loathing, embarrassment, and, of course, rage itself. If Void is the domain of that which can't be seen, of taboos and nonexistence, then Rage is the aspect governing that which we don't want others to know about - our fears, our insecurities, our anxieties, our embarrassment.

Both Kurloz and Gamzee later come to be defined by their religious faith and conviction, with Karkat claiming their breakup was due to how unbelievably pious Gamzee became, and Kurloz's faith being paired with shamelessly mind-controlling his girlfriend (and it's implied he's doing the same to Mituna). As characters at their lowest come to resemble the opposite aspect, we can assume that this is a reflection of how they've Raged so hard that they've wrapped around.

In fact, Hussie describes Gamzee's ability to always show up at the right (wrong) time to do the right (wrong) thing in the plot and enforce the worst outcome, "bespoiling" every part of the narrative he touches, as a dark mastery over Rage, the same way that Eridan's fall into hopelessness and his white science is a dark mastery of Hope. He describes Gamzee after his crisis of faith as "taking revenge against the narrative itself". Therefore, we can assume that Rage is an aspect that similarly works directly on the narrative, a force that shapes reality.

Therefore, let me posit that Hope is a transformative ability - it pens in something new, it makes fake things real, it imposes an impossible new status quo over the old. Rage, then, is an interpretive ability - it acts on existing reality, picking out what to emphasize and what to deemphasize, what to bring to the forefront, and what options to close out forever.

These kinds of far-reaching abilities imposed directly on reality itself are not unheard of. The ultimate expression of John's Breath abilities - Breath being the aspect governing freedom and indepenence - is his retcon powers, allowing him to unstick from the control of the alpha timeline, and grant that boon to others. Mages, as a class, act directly on causality itself, predetermining which futures will definitely come to pass.

Rage is a force that defines reality by defining which parts of it we keep, by deciding which parts are "true," by deciding what the past means to us. Both Cronus and Gamzee are bards, meaning they have arcs of religious belief and crises of faiths (with Cronus's Harry Potter prophecy being framed as a religious belief while Meenah and Aranea discuss it). Cronus's faith is some bogus story about an evil wizard he's destined to defeat. Knowing what we do about Hope, it stands to reason that his arc, had he properly completed it, would've ultimately been about using Hope to make the bogus prophecy true.

Gamzee's religious belief, meanwhile, is incredibly open to interpretation - and this is by design. Hussie outright says that who the mirthful messiahs are, and what Gamzee's beliefs correspond to, change over the course of the story, to reflect whatever's convenient for both him and Gamzee. Its initial description in Gamzee's introduction makes it sound like a factual description of SBURB: a band of rowdy minstrels (the players) will usher in an apocalyptic vast honk (the reckoning meteor shower), but will then give rise to a paradise planet that doesn't yet exist (the Ultimate Reward). When Gamzee raps about it to Tavros, which is the first chronological time he ever talks about it, there's an aspect to it that's quite hopeful, specifically that he believes it will equalize the blood castes, as he says "I peeped six trillion hemos, bleeding as equals".

However, after his turn, he describes the mirthful messiahs as "me" and "me," and fully embraces his heritage as a casteist highblood, spewing slurs and casteism as he commands Equius to kneel and calls Karkat a "punchline blooded motherfucker". Later on, it seems the mirthful messiahs become Caliborn and Calliope.

This is, I believe, a reflection of how Rage is interpretive. If Hope can be described as the power of fanfiction - of imposing something fake and new onto reality - then Rage is the power of literary criticism - choosing which version of existing reality you want to be real, and closing out other options.

Thus, to pull it all together, Rage governs shame and shameful things: anger, embarrassment, loathing, hatred, and fear. Its players tend to be secretive and self-conscious, prone to feeling ashamed and embarrassed of themselves, hiding who they really are. They possess an innate, instinctive understanding of how to bend reality to their whims, and their powers work by closing off possibilities, bringing forth a single "true" version of existence. This sounds volatile and dangerous, and it is - Rage players are prone to hopelessness, cynicism, and an overpowering belief that everything must burn. We see this in both Gamzee and Kurloz, who begin to campaign for oblivion, destruction, and death. This utter despair can come with it a faith-like zen, a Hope-esque religious conviction - Rage at its nadir.

It stands to reason, then, that our Hope players at their worst are similarly displaying Rage-esque traits. Jake, I think, makes his the most obvious - after having his self-esteem shattered by Dirk's Prince tirade, Jake takes a very firm stance of "I don't want to do that". He becomes so ashamed of himself and his actions that he can't even bring himself to talk to Jane or Dirk, and his following conversations with Jane and Aranea basically consist of him saying he doesn't WANT to do any of the things they're trying to make him do. Rage and shame, closing possibilities.

Eridan, meanwhile, becomes an angry, vengeful, destructive force of hopelessness, killing Feferi and destroying the matriorb - Rage, hatred, and closing possibilities. Cronus becomes self-conscious, seeking some personal to fill the void left behind by the "massive disappointing fraud" that magic turned out to be - Rage, shame, self-consciousness.

But we must also remember that these emotions are vital sources of energy, wellsprings of power from which revolutions are born. When Princes have their meltdowns, they take their aspect down with them, rendering it inaccessible for the rest of the team; Kurloz nuking rage from his team is likely why they've stagnated, become fixed in place, unable to access hatred (notice how they have no blackroms?), or even be shamed out of bad behavior.

Thus, Rage at its best is revolution. If Rage can pick out a shitty version of reality to endorse, it can pick out a beautiful and kind one. If it can decide that misery, pain, and suffering are deserved and all we're allowed to have, it can also decide that they're injust, and we must fight for a world where they no longer exist. If Rage can perpetuate harm, then it can also safeguard kindness.

And so, a Rogue of Rage takes shape. Between the Rogue's rebelliousness and Rage's dynamic upturning of reality, this is going to be an incredibly volatile individual. This character is likely going to be A Problem for their team. Rogues start out unfocused, and Rage players inflict massive, far-reaching consequences when they act; a Rogue of Rage is going to lash out at the oppressive forces they see - whether those forces deserve it or not - and give them all a Very Bad Time.

However, the balance for this is the Rage player's natural tendency for self-consciousness. While this does get overridden to some extent by the Rogue's rebellious energy, they'll likely be very aware that they don't have all the answers, and don't know what to do, who to fight, how to go about their revolution. What happens from here will depend greatly on if the team is able to offer proper advice.

A Rogue of Rage who receives no guidance will never unlock the greater abilities of their Rogue powerset, and eventually, their natural penchant for rebellion will leave a trail of destruction and closed possibilities in their wake. Again, this character has a high chance of being A Problem for their team.

However, if the Rogue of Rage IS able to get their shit together, then they're going to be one of the greatest classpect combinations at putting a finger on the scales of causality. Possessing Rage abilities by default, they'll be able to steal Rage from others in a manner that buffs them - for example, removing fear, shame, or hesitation from a teammate that needs a forward push, or removing a narrative blockage of some sort. The soft magic system of Homestuck, and especially the way Hope/Rage work directly on the narrative, makes specific expressions of these abilities difficult to describe, but that should give you an idea of what a Rogue of Rage can do.

[the-starflower]

My thoughts on the companions during my first run

In order of appearance:

Lae'zel

Cool intro, cool character - but I never really vibed with her. The aggression and talking down to everyone like we're idiots got tired very quickly. I have very little time for that, both irl and in games 😅

I also don't like how she's just blindly following whoever is her current authority figure. She renounces Vlaakith only to immediately devote herself to Orpheus with the same burning fanaticism. I kept hoping she would tell them all to sod off and choose her own path. She did become a leader herself in the end but... it was frustrating.

She has very funny banter though, and her voice actor did a stellar job. Great animations and facial expressions too! I love the eye roll when corrected on the pronunciation of "teeth-lings" 😆

Shadowheart

I went from disliking to loving her. She was so cold and shady in the beginning I didn't feel like I could trust her. I also didn't understand how to play a cleric in combat.

The others were fairly straightforward: Lae'zel and Karlach smash stuff, Astarion stabs people in the back, Gale is aoe damage and/or a jack-of-all-trades with a spell for every occasion, and Wyll just Eldritch Blasts people in the face. And Shadowheart is... a support healer... ish? In early game it felt like she didn't do much of anything, so every time it was her turn I was just like uuuuuhh Guiding Bolt I guess? Didn't help that the memes about her missing everything are very true. Poor girl must be half-blind.

But with time and a few levels under her belt, I figured her out. She became one of my most used and useful companions. As her story progressed she also really grew on me as a character. I absolutely loved her whole arc in the Shadow-cursed Lands.

She ended up feeling like my Tav's closest friend alongside Karlach. Even shed a few real tears at the end of her personal quest. 💜

Astarion

Had the same feelings towards Astarion as towards Lae'zel. I immediately loved his snark, but I played a very good character so his constant sighs of disapproval got old fast.

What's funny is I know younger me would've been smitten with Astarion IMMEDIATELY. Alternative bad boy with a sassy personality and tragic backstory? Oh, and did we mention he's a vampire? I would've been "I can fix him" all over that. But present-day me is too old for that nonsense. You can take all of that attitude and stay in camp. Call me when you've seen a therapist. My wood elf ranger had enough dexterity and thieves' tools to pick her own damn locks.

With that said, he did win me over.

I eventually realized I would probably need to up his approval if I wanted to resolve his personal quest (I'm a completionist and didn't like leaving it abandoned) so I gave him another chance and... boy, did he deliver. Astarion turned out to have so much depth and nuance, sold even further by the incredible voice acting! His story is also the darkest and most disturbing of them all.

By the time we arrived at Cazador's mansion I felt so protective of him. Gonna make damn sure nobody lays a finger on that little prima donna ever again.

Gale

Instant fav 💖 He introduced himself like a civilized person (unlike most other people in this game) and was polite and pleasant to deal with right off the bat (again, unlike most others).

He was also immediately useful, not only in combat but in general. Whatever the problem, a solution could probably be found somewhere in his smorgasbord of a spell book. He seemed overpowered already at the beginning of the game and was a downright force of nature at max level.

Most importantly though, his personality is 100% my personal brand of kryptonite: smart, kind, funny in the most adorably dorky way, romantic, artistic, absolute nerd... Neurodivergent? Very likely. Obviously I romanced him and have been obsessed since 💕

Wyll

Warlock business and hero complex aside he felt the most "normal" of them all. I immediately liked his kindness and charm. He usually had a very sound outlook on things as well.

My only gripe with Wyll is that his personal story kinda fizzles out. For a good while there he had the most interesting story and I was so curious to see where it would lead. Sadly the answer was mostly meh. As the son of Duke Ravenguard he should've been front and centre in Act III, but even in his personal quest he barely had any agency or even much of a part to play. And more than once I had to step in to make decisions for him instead of him having his own opinions!

I still really like his personality though. Might try romancing him in a future run. Hopefully he's less passive in that...

Karlach

I love her. I love everything about her. Her gorgeous looks, her golden-retriever-with-an-attitude personality, her battle prowess... I want her and I want to be her in equal measure. ❤️‍🔥

I had known her for all of five minutes before deciding she must be protected at all costs. AT ALL COSTS!!

Which was sadly proving very very difficult. Her personal story is just... heartbreaking. None of the things happening to her are her own fault, she doesn't deserve any of this. Act III was so stressful because there wasn't a damn thing I could do to save her. I bawled at least twice during her story and was afraid her ending would ruin me completely. 😭 Luckily, she went to Avernus with Wyll in the end. I'm not sure I would've continued playing if she hadn't made it.

Hey, maybe that's how I'll break my BG3 addiction? I make a run where I intentionally make sure Karlach dies? That might actually do the trick. 🤔

The non-origin companions

Minthara Didn't know she was a potential companion and killed her. Oops.

Halsin Mr I'm-sexy-and-I-know-it. Also such a wonderfully nice and stable person (showing my age again lol). No breakdowns, no angst, no drama. He's old enough to know who he is and what he wants. Had a moment of weakness where I actually considered breaking up with Gale for him. Obviously couldn't do that to my beloved wizard but... I admit I thought about it.

Jaheira Easily the coolest of them all. I love her no-nonsense attitude and the way she talks to me. She is who I want to be when I grow up. 🫶 I only wish she showed up earlier so I got to spend more time with her.

Minsc and Boo He's so ridiculous but I can't help but laugh every time he opens his mouth. I was already playing a ranger so had no real use for him, especially since he shows up so late in the game, but I adore him. It would be fun to make a run with him and Jaheira as permanent Act III party members. The Netherbrain wouldn't know what hit it!

[emblemxeno]

Hey, thanks for accepting my anonymous ask and fixing that on your dashboard. Posting this here to publicize:

Why do you think so many people misunderstand Fates as a story and just dismiss the whole thing as trash without looking into what it's actually saying? Because it has much of his context only made apparent to people who dig into it and actually interact with the game, or that it somehow gives too bad of a first impression for most people? I'm really trying to figure it out, but it reminds me of how the entire internet wanted to convince you Dragon Age: The Veilguard is badly written; works that are actually quite competently written but the entire gaming sphere has just written off as schlock irrespective to its merits, because I cannot really think of another game aside from that which had the same level of bad PR as Fates did that is frankly unjustified.

In our DMs, your reply was:

Fundamentally, I don’t know what people are on when criticizing Fates story. A flaw in the game’s narrative is that important details are hidden in subtext and implication, or are only given few lines of dialogue, which isn’t the most typical of a JRPG. So they majorly resent that for some reason, instead of just seeing that as something that can easily be addressed.

Do you mind elaborating with examples? Both because I want to publicize what was intended to be anonymous and because I want to hear if you have any examples of what you mean by this. Because I very much agree, I just want to confirm if we're on the same page.

Off the top of my head, not really, lots of stuff is swimming around. But I'll try.

-Implicit stuff, like Iago highlighting how Elise and Xander are the most upset by Corrin defecting to Hoshido, for example, is foreshadowing how those two specifcally are the Nohriran royals most prominent in Birthright.

-Mikoto's pacifying barrier is the same as Azura's pacifying song, because they're both Vallite royalty, which descends from Anankos who has the power to influence people's hearts

-Mikoto can forsee the future because that's a power Anankos has, and he passed his blood to Vallite royalty.

-It makes sense that Leo can pull a random magic warp book out of thin air, because it's been established he's the most fearsome mage in Nohr, and Iago has done similar stuff already

-Iago is the one who made Takumi and Elise sick, having had contact with both of them after the former fell into the bottomless canyon (afterwards, Anankos made Takumi a spy through Garon, hence leading to Iago) and the latter after Iago appeared in the Rainbow Sage chapter before directing Corrin's party and Ryoma's ambush in Macarath.

-The divine weapons choose their wielders since they're inhabited by spirits, but they're also handed down and competed for through the royal lines. Sumeragi wielded Raijinto, Mikoto passed down Fujin Yumi, Garon used Siegfried and possibly also Brynhildr in the past.

-As a result of their upbringing, the Nohrian royals are extremely hesitant to defy Garon. Elise's mother never properly loved her, Leo and his mother had a bad relationship, and Camilla says she was used as a tool. Even Xander, didn't have a proper relationship with Garon, due to the burdens of being crown prince (and the fact that Xander had to work really hard to get where he is) and the chaos that the concubines caused. They want stability, and when someone threatens that, be it Corrin leaving or Garon being targeted, they react badly.

-Nohrians value utility, being a military based country. Their classes often wield mutliple weapons, as there's no time or resources to specialize, and they have more mounts and proper heavy armor. Hoshido has the resources to be more daring, to specialize, or have more whacky classes like Blacksmith and Basara.

Nohr can't be picky, so they use thieves for their archery force, while Hoshido trains actual archers. Hoshido is more spiritual, so they have priesteses and monks as their healers, while Nohr has servants and mounted healers for utility.

Hoshidan retainers are groomed for their roles, and often get them through bloodlines or connections. Nohrian retainers are gutter trash, literal nobodies, and former criminals, and all they have to do is prove themselves in a fight.

Further on, the other recruits. Hayato is renowned tribal spellcaster, Benny is a feared commoner knight. Charlotte is a nobody who wants to be popular, Rinkah is a princess who values solitude. Nyx and Orochi both suffered from bad reputations, but Nyx is a mature woman trapped in a young body, while Orochi is outwardly mature but internally mischievous. Kaden is a cleanly, magnanimous fox with a secret vicious side, Keaton is outwardly rough and grimey, but has a soft, puppy dog side.

These parallels, intricacies, and tidbits are all implications that you can reach after just an hour thinking about it. This is the exact same kind of stuff that people write/post/blog about for other games' casts, especially Three Houses. It's just that Fates isn't afforded that because of a rough localization and infamous controversy.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Suddenly remembered something I wanted to say re:Akechi, because I think it's really core to his character (at least the way I interpreted him?) and I feel like it explains a lot of his contradictions. Essentially, he is incapable of seeing himself as just a person - he's either the greatest hero/detective ever, or he's some violent monster, and it's like there's no in-between. It's very in keeping with his obvious superiority-inferiority complex, but it goes deeper than that too; when he's in a role, it seems like his self-perception kind of changes too depending on how he is perceived by others. He really does get a confidence boost from being the Detective Prince. He really does shut down emotionally as the Black Mask.

They're masks that he's made, and it's not that aspects of them aren't based in truth to some extent, but I think it goes to show why he's not actually that fantastic a liar (imo, I found the outright lies pretty obvious), but he is a very good actor. He's either an angel or a demon, and never a person, but there are conditions to that. He is an angel when he is perfect - to society. He is a demon when he is vengeful - again, to society. He is never a person, because he never was seen as one - to society. He was disregarded. To be anything of value or notoriety, whether that's hero or villain, he has to be wildly more or less than who he actually is, and he's been building these masks up for so long that I really think he lost sight of the actual person behind it all. And I don't think he wanted to see that person anyways, because that person "wasn't good enough" and I do think he'd rather be anything other than himself. That trickery, that deflection from the person within, in itself brings him pride and satisfaction. He wants to be loved and needed instead of being cast aside, but I also think that if he can't have that then he'd much rather be hated than never have mattered at all. He weaponizes his own loneliness - if he can't ever be accepted then he'll build his own pedestal apart from everyone else.

It's so fascinating too, because I just wonder how much of this he was consciously aware of pre, during, and post engine room. There's this recurring thing with him where he goes "I can only be myself" etc but I just want to shake him because, well, who is that, Akechi??? Or, who do you think that is? Do you actually have an answer? Is it predicated on your actual feelings or solely on your success at fooling everyone around you? Is there any part of you that you actually like that isn't based on a painstakingly constructed mask? Isn't it all mostly lies to deflect from the truth? Isn't it all founded mostly on truth, nonetheless?

It drives me insane. And I think this is a big reason why he breaks so hard in the engine room, because so much of his mask requires his "audience" to perform in a particular way. And here he is, and the Thieves have beaten him, so there goes the first mask, because he's no longer "perfect". He swings wildly into the ugliest sides of him, but this mask is broken too, amidst him vehemently and desperately denying that he has any other emotions than hatred and rage, or any other needs or desires than vengeance. And after that, it's just him. And they should reject him, right? That's what happens. He's not useful, he's not needed or perfect, his hands are stained with blood. But the Thieves, again, don't play the role he expects them to. They, despite everything, relate to him - because he is in fact very similar in a lot of ways and they acknowledge him as a person - not a hero, or idol, or villain, or tool, or unwanted child - but as a damaged teen like the rest of them. And he does not know what to do with that. His identity is intrinsically dependent on getting the right reactions from other people as a form of ingratiating himself - if he does not get that reciprocal reaction he's looking for, his act falters, and, I really do believe that so does his self-perception. That's why you see different aspects of him seep out when he's spending time with Joker, because Joker does not react the way he expects, and Akechi both does and does not like this, because it leaves him feeling both intrigued and vulnerable.

I do think this particular aspect of his character is something a lot of the Thieves don't fully grasp - certainly, I think Joker "I need the mask" Persona 5 understands to a degree, but the sheer degree of reliance and the level of pride attached to it is something that confuses him a little, I think, especially in Mementos Mission. I think the thief that comes closest is actually Morgana, who has a similar superiority-inferiority complex and a desperate need to be seen as competent and useful lest he be discarded. (This is a big part of why the rather lackluster writing with Morgana's arc frustrates me so much because I really do feel it was meant to be contrasted with Akechi's, but I digress.) Morgana is the one to make that emotional appeal to Akechi, which makes a degree of sense - Morgana struggled all along with finding a place in the world. His form leads others to underestimate him; he visually doesn't fit in. He's acting out the role of a chivalrous and cool phantom thief but is more pragmatic with how he views relationships, at least at first. He wants a place to belong where he is appreciated more than anything but his pride won't let him spit it out. Accepting that he belongs and that he is loved even if he really did have nothing of value to provide is a big part of the resolution of his arc. He tries to offer that learned lesson to Akechi in turn ("Follow your true feelings. Even if you think people hate you, or don't want you around-"), but Akechi just wasn't in the right space to listen. There's also an important distinction between the two - Morgana envies humans and looks up to them. Akechi envies humans and looks down on them. Morgana is perfectly happy once he is assured a place amongst the group, but Akechi see-saws wildly between wanting to belong and wanting to be a step above the rest and separating himself further. So while Morgana actually really did cut to the core of the issue, his appeal would never have worked at this point because a) Akechi's pride is dependent on him maintaining his solo act, and b) he just got outed as not actually hating Joker in front of seven other people including Joker himself lmao.

So, uh, sorry, Morgana. Points for trying.

[nanenna]

Today I remembered that my favorite thing about having so many AUs is to pick up 2 AUs like Barbie dolls and clack their faces together while making smooching noises.

Behold my beloved DCxDP AU amalgamation monster: DeamonTwinAU and PhantomThiefAU (aka: Selina gives Danny a slutty slutty cat suit, good times)

The story vaguely goeth thusly: Danny is a halfa, the Balance, the Bridge Between Worlds, he is....... the Observants' glorified gofer. You see, there are a lot of cursed/enchanted/ghostly artefacts floating around loose in the living Realm and they need Danny to go retrieve them. Danny would rather not, but they just won't leave him alone about it. Can't a guy just live? At least let him poop in peace! Ancients! Fine, he'll do it if it'll get them to shut up. (Spoiler: it does, in fact, not get them to shut up.)

But you see, Danny has a secret: he was raised in an assassin ninja cult (at least for the early years) before getting adopted by the Fentons. Now the killing? Not a fan, no thanks, he's working on not increasing his kill count, thx. But the sneaking? He could use that. Sneaky ninjas are also good thieves, right? So he cobbles together a knock off League of Assassins outfit, buys a cheap portable lock picking set, and decides to make a game of how far can he get without using his powers (much. He's new at this okay?)

Batman is not having fun. There's some (possible?) League assassin running around stealing verified cursed/magical artefacts! Is Talia planning something? Is Ra's planning something? (Isn't he for real dead? Silly reader, no one is ever for real dead in DC.)

Robin is super frustrated. For all the same reasons Batman is but also because he just knows this new rogue is taunting him. Personally. Because he's Damian al Ghul Wayne and the whole world revolves around him, obviously. (And also because he once pointed at Robin and laughed before jumping out a window.)

Selina is intrigued. Who is this kid? How does he know what to go after? How does he keep evading the bats? Luckily she runs into him mid heist (fortunately they had different targets, she's intrigued but not enough to hand over her shinies to him) and oh he's adorable! She has to train him, it would drive Brucie up the wall. But then she sees his face and oh, she knows exactly who he is, even if he seems oblivious.

Because Danny? He's in Gotham for the ecto, for the Thomas Wayne full ride scholarship he managed to snag, and also because for some reason Gotham is full of so many cursed/ghost artefacts. (Lady Gotham is seething, she worked hard to collect all those curses! But this is her beloved dark knight's kid and she kinda wants him home. But she also doesn't want to give up her curses!) Back to the point: Danny doesn't care about ANY of the rich bougie people. The Waynes give out a lot of scholarships? Cool, that's nice and all. They probably also rub elbows with Vlad or Sam's parents. No thanks. Doesn't care. He's got better things to worry about.

Selina has got a plan though! She's gonna teach this boy how to thief properly, starting with better tools (including the slutty, slutty cat burglar outfit). She also knows that she can't let any of the Waynes (in or out of costume) meet Danny (out of costume). So does Lady Gotham. So does the universe apparently (or just Clockwork maybe), because all kinds of unlikely things keep happening to prevent it.

Danny is having so much fun though! He's learning new skills. Selina is giving him an allowance so he's not living off ramen and peanut butter sandwiches, he's doing well in school, he gets to stretch his ghost powers regularly to go above the smog cover and star gaze in peace. Everything's coming up Danny.

Selina decides it's time to flaunt her find in front of Brucie and makes Danny go to a gala as her date, she spends the entire time clinging to his arm and introducing him around to everyone. Including Bruce himself (who just so happens to have Damian in tow). Danny may not recognize Bruce, but he sure recognizes Damian, and Damian recognizes him if his utterly flabbergasted face is anything to go by. But Danny remembers what it was like living in the League. And so far as he knows Damian is still in it, he was the Demon Head's heir after all. Damian made sure of it.

Oh it. Is. ON! Now Danny is on a mission! A sibling rivalry mission! He is going to make Damian's/Robin's a living hell. Selina going on a heist that has no magical artefacts? Danny's there anyway, always have back up. That necklace in the museum has barely any powers and he wasn't even going to bother with it? Too bad, it's back on the list. He has no reason to be out at all but the bats are on patrol? Well so is Danny. Catch him if you can, suckers!

It's good for Danny, it's enrichment!

[rebelliousstories]

A Thief and An X-Man

Relationship: Remy LeBeau/Gambit x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 2,738

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: Southern charm is a thing. Something that Remy LeBeau has taken advantage of over the years. All it took was one little X-Man to throw him off his rhythm apparently…

How everyone found themselves in their own current predicament, only the universe knows. The tomfoolery that had followed them during their journey was like something straight out of a superhero book.

Remy panted and hugged his side as he rested against the brick wall behind him. His partner in crime, albeit a reluctant one, mirrored his actions against the other wall of the alleyway. She was glaring hard in between her pants in an attempt to catch her breath.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you Cajun?” There were shouts and the pounding of footsteps getting closer and closer.

“What can I say, chere? I like pretty things.” The weight of the jewels in his pocket weighed down under her gaze.

“We’re being chased because you couldn’t keep your greedy little hands off of stuff that doesn’t belong to you!” Her words were almost drowned completely out by the pounding of footsteps.

Making a split second decision, Remy grabbed her hand and began to haul the woman towards a fire escape that was already pulled down. She was confused, but faced with the possibility of the men that were chasing them catching up? She would take the fire escape with the thief. As soon as they had made it up onto the roof of whatever building this was, Remy leaned over the edge to get a look at their personal mob that now ran by the building and alleyway they had disappeared into. With a smirk, he laid down on the cool tiles below.

“We safe now,” she questioned, almost ready to run again.

“I wouldn’t be layin’ down if we weren’t. Now would I, chere?” His eyes slipped closed as he relaxed as much as he could.

“Oh, of course. Because I should be trusting the person who got us into this mess, to be honest and truthful when he is a known Thief, to get us out of this mess. Wolverine needs to come and extract me right now.” Her grumbling was followed by the sound of her trying to use her transponder. With a frustrated groan, it clattered to the ground when it would not work.

For three days, she had been stuck in Louisiana with the leader of the Thieves Guild. A mission that she had been sent on alone to help the X-Men get a relic that needed to be kept out of the wrong hands. Had they been able to do it solo, they would have. But the Thieves were the only people who had made it to where they needed her to go, and made it back out. Thus, an unlikely alliance was made. And from that point forward, she had been subjected to the rugged charms of the one they call Gambit.

From the second she walked up to him, she had been the focus of his flirtations. Maybe it was the fact that she was a new pretty face for him. Or maybe it was that fact that she was “forbidden fruit” being an X-Man. Whatever it was, for the past three weeks, she had been subject to every one liner and flirty comment.

In all honesty, she did not mind the banter that they usually had. It was better than being with someone that did not talk much, like a certain X-Man she knew. But it was annoying once he got into a flirtatious mood.

“Ooo, chere. Did it hurt when ya fell from heaven? You look so angelic.”

“Shut up, Cajun.”

“Here, let Gambit take care o’ dat for ya. Ain’t no reason to sweat your pretty brow.”

“If Gambit don’t give me back my tools, I’m not gonna sweat my brow over putting him down.”

It was like this for three days. Any chance he got, he took. She could see that he was just doing it to get a rise out of her, since she refused to be another notch on his belt. Even though some times, she could almost swear there was something genuine about the affectionate quips he made. A sharp bark pulled her from her thoughts and brought her attention to the transponder that was still down by her feet. Careful not to step on it, she opened it to be met with the authoritative voice of a certain Canadian calling her name.

“Where have you been? You were supposed to check in an hour ago, bub.” He was upset, that was for sure. But after all these years, she could hear through the layers to his tone and knew it was just because he cared for his team like his own family.

“Wolverine, I’m fine. We ran into a snag but we should be getting back on track soon. The communicator wouldn’t work earlier or I would have checked in at the appropriate time,” came her retort. A groan trailed into a sigh on the other end of the line.

“Just be safe, kid. Let me know when you get the relic. We’ll be waiting to extract you when you need it.” His voice lowered in volume, and his tone shifted.

“Will do, Wolvie. Just gotta get this Cajun to actually get me to the place, then we’ll be on our way home.” With that, the two X-Men signed off from each other. She sat there for a moment longer as she began to rub her temples. The evening breeze was welcome against her flushed face.

“So you and da Wolverine, huh?” Gambit’s sudden ask brought her out of her head quick.

“What? Me and him? No, god no. We just work well together. He’s the one that got me into the school. Got me into the X-Men,” she stood, and looked around the night sky that was sprinkled with lights. “You gonna take me where I need to go, or do I need to find another thief to do it?”

“Oh, you wound me, chere. Suppose if ya did that, I could call another X-Man to grab the item with me instead.” He teased, finally rising to his feet.

With fluid movements, like that of a skilled ballet dancer, Remy looked towards the streets again. The mutant dubbed them safe enough, and began his descent down the same fire escape that he had them go up on. She followed after him, always maintaining a bit of distance between them as they went closer and closer to where they needed to go.

A well lit mansion greeted the two mutants after a while. This was the house that she had been searching for. She was finally here. Once again, she followed Gambit’s lead. After all, he and his guild made it out of here before with their pockets loaded. They could do it one more time.

Gambit caused a minor explosion on one of the windows in the back of the building making her flinch as she expected the commotion to begin. And yet, there was nothing. No alarms, no dogs barking or humans shouting. He turned back to the stunned woman with nothing short of a pompous smirk on, before he climbed through the window. She took his hand to help stabilize her while she was slipping through the opening.

They had ended up in the west wing of the mansion, only a few doors down from the room that they needed to go to. She had no time to be stunned at how efficient this mutant was seeing as he was already grabbing her hand to pull her through the house. Their journey was cut short when they spotted guards walking towards them in the hallway. Remy tucked them both against a wall that was out of sight, but knew they did not have long. Scanning around, he did not see a spare room or broom closet. He tried not to show the panic on his face, but he could feel his heart speeding up.

“They not supposed to be here, chere. We gotta go back out.” But when he tried to leave, the sounds of quiet conversation and boots on the hardwood floor were far too close now.

“Go with me,” was all the warning that the Cajun was given. In an instant, she made him press her against the wall. What he did not expect even more than that, was the fact that she had him engaged in a full lip lock. Stunned did not even begin to describe what he was feeling. Here this woman was, kissing him voluntarily, after spending the last three days shutting him down at every chance.

Losing himself in the moment that he wished would never end, Remy kept one of his hands on the wall near her head, while the other went to the dip of her waist. Her hands came up and pressed him even closer by the nape of his neck. This was a dream. A wonderful, beautiful dream that he did not want to wake from. Unfortunately, that was not in the cards for him. Right as he was truly enjoying the moment, a wolf whistle caught his attention. But she did not let him turn around. Instead, she pressed his face into her neck while she shouted at the guards that had finally rounded the corner.

“Cad é? Cad atá tú ag féachaint air?” Now that was a language Remy had never heard spoken. His confused face was stuck in the crook of her neck, while he felt her shooing the men away. Apparently, they were just as confused as he was, but left without complaint. As soon as they were away from the par of mutants, she pushed Remy back a bit.

“Now, where in da world is dat language from, chere? Gambit ain’t never heard nothin’ like it in his whole life.” He was a bit out of breath but it was understandable.

“I used to go visit my grandmother in Ireland when I was a kid. She made me fluent in Gaelic.” She was just as out of breath as him, but neither called attention as to the reason why.

They both sat there for a moment, not moving from their spots where they were oh so close to one another. This was the closest they had been physically the entire time they had been working together. And it was breaking down barriers that had been put in place for their own sanity and safety.

“Let’s get going before someone else catches us and we can’t get out of it as easily,” she stated breathily. For her own sake, she needed to do something, and soon before she could not stop herself. Remy nodded to himself, to confirm that he had heard her or to shake himself out of his own stupor, who knows. But soon, they were back on track with him grabbing her hand and leading them to the room once more.

Gambit made quick work of picking the lock, and then they were inside. Encased in glass was a small pendant and necklace. Unassuming at first, but they knew better. This one little artifact was responsible for so much suffering around the world, and more of it if they did not get it out of non-mutant hands. Remy approached the glass case and looked for a way to get it open without disturbing it too much. But the sound of glass shattering spooked him, made him jump back from the shards.

“You were taking too long.” She shrugged, turning back to look at the pendant. Pulling out her own case for the necklace, she tried very hard not to touch the jewel in the center. Once it was secured, Remy did another look out to make sure that the coast was clear.

“Let’s get going, chere. Don’t want no unwelcome guests taggin’ along now.” The two mutants slipped out the same way that they entered. It was such a shock for her, not having any hangups during a mission. Usually it was every chance the universe got to make something go wrong, it did. So to have one go this smoothly was a welcomed change of pace.

They fled into the night before them, and did not look back until they were safe in the heart of New Orleans once more. Lights, music, and conversation drowned out any and all thoughts they had for just a minute or two. Instead of going somewhere quiet and out of the way, Gambit ended up leading them further not the heart of the city to a late night cafe.

As soon as they sat down, he ordered something for them both to eat and drink, but she was not paying any attention to him. Instead, she was trying to figure out how she was going to discreetly call her team back at the mansion to go home. For some reason though, it was not working right now.

“This thing has been finicky the entire time I’ve been here. Doesn’t know whether or not it wants to work when I need it to.” She lamented, tossing the item down onto the table before them.

“So, now that you got whatcha came here for, just gonna head home? Like that?” There was a mournful tone to his voice that did not miss her ears. Neither one needed to say exactly why he sounded so upset at her leaving, or rather neither wanted to acknowledge why he was upset.

“Well, there’s always someone else that needs saving. Or a disaster that needs to be avoided,” she said, watching his face carefully.

“Right, right…” he trailed off, not quite knowing where to take it from here. Thankfully, a waitress came by with two bowls, and two drinks for them to enjoy.

“What on earth did you order for me?” Poking her spoon around in the stew like dish in front of her, she arched an eyebrow and looked at the Cajun.

“Dat right der is what we call gumbo, chere. It’s real good. Gotta use dat piece o’ baguette at the end though.” When she still did not eat, he tried a different tactic. “Come on. Humor me before ya head on home, chere?”

If you ever asked her, she would vehemently deny that she had given in to the soft way he pleaded with her. Bringing the spoonful of hot stew and rice to her lips, a symphony of flavors erupted on her tongue. It was unlike anything she had ever eaten. The chicken, sausage and shrimp were so tender and perfectly cooked. The veggies melted, and the rice was the perfect binder.

While she was busy devouring her food, Remy was taking that time to lock in on her joyful face. If this was going to be the last time he saw her, he was going to make it count. But his day dreaming was interrupted by the transponder on the table suddenly jumping to life. As fast as she could, she set down her spoon, wiped her face, and grabbed the item.

“Wolverine,” she began, “listen, I got the necklace. Ready when you are on the extraction.”

Her eyes drifted over to the man in front of her who was trying very hard not to eavesdrop on the conversation happening two feet away from him. The long she listened to Wolverine talk, and watched Remy’s face, the more her heart moaned in pain. It was an unusual feeling to have, especially for someone that she swore she did not get along with or that she had not known for too long.

“Kid, we’ll be there in a couple hours, okay? We’re gonna track you by your communicator and then we’ll-”

“Actually, Wolvie,” she cut the man off, “I think I’m gonna stick around New Orleans for a few days. Just to make sure that nobody comes looking for this thing. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come home.”

The transponder was shut off fast, and tucked into one of the pockets of her uniform. When she looked up again, the startled face of Gambit greeted her. His eyes were wider than the bowls they were eating out of, but she paid it no mind. Picking up her spoon again, she sent a teasing smirk across the table.

“Hope you don’t mind that I’ll be sticking around a little more.” She brought another spoonful of gumbo to her mouth while Gambit took a minute to recover.

“Not at all, chere. Not at all.”

[charonarp]

Minecraft Diaries' Unofficial D&D 5e Guide

Do you enjoy the Minecraft Diaries series? Whether it be the original or through Diaries Rebirth?

Do you enjoy playing D&D or have ever wanted to play it yourself?

Have you ever wondered or desired to play in a tabletop roleplaying game in the world of Ru'aun and beyond?

Well, look no further than the UNOFFICIAL GUIDE FOR MINECRAFT DIARIES! (Created by yours truly :p)

It's finally here! I finally got it completed!!! (Primarily uses the 2014 version of D&D 5e)

This unofficial guide is meant to be used as a TOOL to help kickstart your adventures in the Minecraft Diaries universe. Unfortunately, there no character sheets made of the main cast of MCD or Diaries Rebirth, and that is indeed intentional.

Why? Because everyone has their own headcanons of each character individually. This guide is intended to be headcanon friendly and is open for you to shift and change to your liking!

Don't take everything in here as set-in-stone. Due to MCD being an incomplete story with unknown knowledge of most characters, this unofficial guide may (and does) have some incomplete or unwritten knowledge about certain locations and characters, which is why this is made with the intentions to be used as a general guide to help you create your own version of MCD for your players to enjoy.

Due to the lore of MCD being incomplete and not all villages and regions are fully fleshed out, some tools from Critical Role's TTRPG Daggerheart have been used, particularly their "community cards", to help provide a tool in creating or fleshing out communities. This can be as small as the Thieves' Guild to as big as O'khasis, meant to be used by both DMs and Players alike.

All official artwork from the MCD series is created by an artist named KamiWasa, who once worked for Aphmau and most notably the art in seasons 2 and 3 of Minecraft Diaries. There is only ONE drawing in there by me, which does have a credited handle right beside it :)

All resources (by the most part) have been mentioned and credited upon their use inside of this document. Go forth! Explore the world!

And most importantly, HAVE FUN :D

(btw there might be a few small things repeated a couple of times and I don't feel like going through and editing everything after working on this for who-knows-how-long so I apologize in advance)

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Ghostcrow & Palasaki (The Old Guard AU)

Monty kisses Charles Rowland as he kissed Edwin Payne and it is everything he ever could have dreamed of, getting kissed by a cute boy under the stars.

But they are not boys and neither is he. They are immortal, and he is just a fucking tool to be used to lead them to their doom.

So Monty has to be smart. He can’t fall for them, no matter how much his heart might be a fragile, battered organ in his chest just craving the touch, the kindness, the interest, the affection of the two brightest people he’s ever met.

Monty Finch has never had a future. He is nothing but the past, and even then, his is nothing compared to theirs.

He knows how this is going to end, with every boy involved sacrificed onto the altar. 

So why not be a flash in the pan? Why not live like he's the one dying?

-aletterinthenameofsanity, no grave can hold my body down (i'll crawl home to them)

Fortune up and left me on the hotel floor

Well, you know she never paid me no mind

They say it's good to start the story with a tragedy

What did I do to deserve you?

How did you find me? I was already halfway gone

You were a bright light

You were a fistfight

-The Ballroom Thieves, Fistfight

@pappelsiin @itsbitmxdinhere @rexrevri @sweet-like-h0ney-lavender @saffirez

@the-ipre @sunnylemonss @days-light @agentearthling @helltechnicality

@sethlost @catboy-cabin @secretlyafiveheadeddragon @vyther15

@anything-thats-rock-and-roll @queen-of-hobgobblers @every-moment-a-different-sound

@nix-nihili @mellxncollie @tumblerislovetumblerislife @lemurafraidofthunder

@likemmmcookies @wr0temyway0ut @thelakeswillbreakourfall

@sapphic-corgi @occasionaloneshots @troublegoblin

@cairngorm-ard @petesdragon @alittleemo @charswithbatsmybeloved

@alilbifurious @bigtirednoodle @the-moons-jade-rabbit

@wikipediagreen @wooooooaaahhhhh-oooooops

[askthatoneanacondraikaiguy]

Can we please get more context on when Kai and his parents reunited in his new form I just keep going over it and I can't stop thinking about it

Kai straight up almost kills his dad.

In the show, it's not nearly as close a call when Nya and Maya intervene.

Ray knows how to fight Anacondrai from his time in the Serpentine War, but he no longer has his elemental power. He's stuck in an enclosed space with only his blacksmithing tools and his forge. Ray's fighting is not as refined as Kai's is due to lacking practice (though Kai is also fighting using a more modern fusion of human and Anacondrai martial arts) so it becomes much more intense on Ray's part. Instead of just knocking Kai down, he kicks Kai into the open forge. This doesn't burn Kai, because Anacondrai scales, but he then uses the fire to attack Ray, revealing his elemental power.

The sudden realization of "I'm being attacked by a snake, the snake is using fire elemental power. My son is supposed to be the Elemental Master of Fire. This means my son must be dead"connects in Ray's brain as the worst case connection together in the moment into a bit of nonsensical grief-rage of "this Anacondrai killed my son." Or is somehow responsible for it, because Ray perceives Anacondrai wholly as thieves and conquerors and the only way it could have achieved the powers is if it stole them from Kai somehow.

(to Ray, that makes more immediate sense than 'my son has turned into an Anacondrai')

But Kai still gets the upper hand. Nya and Maya run into the shop to find Kai actively constricting around Ray.

(it is funny to imagine that interaction Nya has with her mom when she finds her outside; "Look, you're gonna see a snake, don't kill him, he's Kai-- yeah, Kai's a snake now. It's a long story. Please hurry before he does something stupid!")

Nya douses Kai in swamp water to get him to calm down and Ray is so shocked (and overjoyed) to see Nya that he chills out (once Kai releases him) enough for there to be an explanation for why they're helping Krux, though there's less time here for Kai to explain how he became an Anacondrai. After which, Kai gets to hug his mom.

Though, this does also add to the fact that when Krux and Acronix interrupt, they not only bring up that the Reversal Blade is the only thing that can save Wu, they also bring up that it can be used to reverse Kai to his human form before the Tournament.

(this is not as appealing to Kai as it is to his parents. I... Have not fully worked out how that proceeds yet)

[ranting-writer]

"Do you think he hates you?"

"Fuck, I don't know. He certainly likes to avoid me at seemingly any cost. He fell trying to skateboard away from me yesterday."

Rose hummed as she jotted down some notes.

She and Dirk sat across from each other on her purple velvet couches while she listened to Dirk talk about how Dave was avoiding him. He'd come over, something he rarely if ever did, and he'd plopped himself on her couch, bold as brass, and simply stated that Dave was avoiding him and he didn't understand why. Normally the two Striders were thick as thieves, had been since the game's end and Earth C was created, but of late, Dave had started avoiding Dirk. Which was very out of character for him, at least from Dirk's perspective.

Dirk's lips twitched briefly into a frown. "Stop taking notes," he demanded. "You're not a real therapist. I only came to you specifically because you're his friend and you might have insight into his behavior."

Rose sighed a bit, giving Dirk a wry smile. "Dirk," she said. "I know Dave, very, very well. But I need to take the notes so I can remember what to hassle him about at a later date."

"Jesus fuck, Rose. This is supposed to just be a talk between us. You and I. We. I didn't say I wanted you to talk to him. I just want insight, at the present point."

Rose rolled her eyes. Striders... Always pushy and griping and whinging about something. This wasn't the first time one of them came to talk to her about the other. Although, in Dave's case, it wasn't technically about Dirk, but rather about Dave's feelings around Bro that simply happened to be stirred up by Dirk. Not that Dirk would ever make the distinction himself.

"What if you don't like what I have to tell you?" she asked.

Dirk shrugged. "Then I cope and push on I guess," he replied, arms resting on his knees. "I just need to know if I did something wrong or hurt him somehow. So I can apologize."

Rose hummed, sipping her drink. "Well, it isn't necessarily you," she said blandly. "More about who you remind him of. Superficially of course." She watched as Dirk tensed up and clapped his hands together. This might be more delicate than she thought, but she continued. "As we have aged, we have begun to look more like our alternate selves. Roxy has plainly told me that she can easily see, for lack of better phrasing on my part, her mother in me.

"However, I do find it interesting that, despite having been the one to point out at one point that you look really nothing like his Bro, Dave has apparently begun to recognize his guardian in your face more and more. While on the other side of this, you have continued to see less and less of your own Bro in him. It's very peculiar."

Dirk rubbed his temples, groaning a bit. "And so far all I'm getting out of this conversation is that he's scared of me and you actually did inherit the propensity for professional yappery," he grumbled.

Rose sighed softly, watching Dirk agonize. She and Dirk hadn't exactly been close before, and they weren't now. In fact, they outright confided that they reminded each other too much of one another in some uncomfortable ways. Especially after one particularly uncomfortable incident where, in trying to emulate Dave and Roxy's weird mom-son/ bestie bond, Rose had called Dirk dad. That had certainly put a brief wedge in their communication...

Despite that, she truly didn't like seeing Dirk so uncomfortable and distressed. Dave was one of her best friends, and Dirk was very, very important to Dave, thus, Dirk was important to her. She wanted to at least try to help. Smoothing her dress, Rose spoke again. "It must feel odd," she said. "To hear Dave talk to lovingly about someone that he acknowledges hurt him."

Dirk shook his head, leaning back into the plush couch. He sighed, staring at the ceiling. "Yes and no," he said.

"Could you elaborate?"

"It's simple, in my mind. Bro wasn't entirely a monster and Dave genuinely believes the guy did the best with the tools he had available, emotionally and literally. He was also the most exposed to the bullshit paradox space, Lord English time nonsense compared to his fellow guardians in your timeline. And thinking of the portrait Dave drew, the guy was severely mentally ill with a lot of baggage.

"However, despite the abuse Dave endured, he is also able to recall plenty of times that he and Bro cooked together, went to events, went to fun locations, and had bonding time. It's difficult to separate the good and the bad when it comes to your abusers, especially if it's a parent. You should know this, Ms. Psychologist wannabe."

Rose smiled softly. "I do, know this," she said cooly. "But I was after how you feel about it, not your own clinical examinations of their relationship."

Dirk went quiet, staring at the ceiling after apparently deciding it was more interesting than the conversation. He sat like that for a long time, and Rose simply allowed his silence. She knew this topic had to be difficult for him to address, especially with her.

Eventually, Dirk spoke again, sounding unusually small and sad. "I worry that he talks about me like that. Dave, I mean."

Rose looked at Dirk, the tone of his voice piquing her interest. "As in... Saying that you've hurt him but loving you anyway?"

Dirk nodded slowly as he tried to reign in his control of his voice and face. Body language was whatever to him, he knew control of that was like trying to get an engine block to swim, but he wanted back some control over his body, even if it meant just his voice and facial expressions. "I worry I'm just gaslighting him into liking me. I did it with Jake and I think Jane."

Dirk sat back upright, leaning forward on his knees again. "Roxy was going to like me anyway, there's hardly a soul she doesn't like," he said. "Jane... Jane was sort of isolated too, but she was naive and she's always sort of been a baby sister to me in a way. But Jake..." He looked up at Rose, face finally schooled back into an expression of blank indifference. "I feel like a pressured Jake into a relationship," he continued to explain. "And that's why eventually our relationship broke down so hard. Because he started to realize I was being clingy and manipulative."

Rose raised an eyebrow. Could Dirk be manipulative? Absolutely. It was a trait she herself and even Dave to a lesser extent had. They liked to mess with people. However, in watching Dirk, she hadn't noticed much in the way of malicious manipulative behavior, or even abuse, that couldn't be chalked up to simply not understanding people and control issues. Dirk had lived alone his entire life, his only reference for body language was films and the put on facades of his version of Dave and whatever prefilled content he could get his lonely hands on. On top of that, Dirk had exceptionally minimal control growing up.

Dirk had spent his developmental years alone in the middle of the ocean, everything bad that had happened to the world was mostly far in the past already, and all he had was his robots, movies, music, sendificator, and a computer with an internet connection. He'd only had control over his machines, and even they had whims of their own eventually.

Dirk was also a problem solver. He was intelligent and quick to find and understand what he needed to do in order to get a desired result, even if he had to go to extremes (like sendificating his own decapitated head to Jake to kiss) to get it. It made his skin crawl and his mind itch when others couldn't see past themselves to the solution.

Of course, perhaps that last bit was due to his nature as a Heart player. Despite struggling with his sense of where he ended and his other versions, or "splinters", began, he still had a very good sense of who he was, what his values were, and where his loyalties lie. To him, it was frustrating that others seemed so oblivious to the fact that their own personal pondering on their identities was obscuring the real issues at hand. This, of course, led to him trying to take control from others at times.

Jake, for example. Jake was a bit cowardly early on, if excitable about adventure and the prospects of a good rough housing. Jake wasn't a strong fighter, if at all. So, to try and help Jake improve and better himself, Dirk took control of the situation and made Brobot for Jake to train with. He'd given it a variety of settings and an affection for Jake so the thing wouldn't kill the guy. He hadn't really given Jake much of a say in the matter, just started sending him the pieces as they were completed.

When they all needed to get into their session and the Medium, Dirk had taken every bit of control in the situation, resurrecting Roxy, getting his head to Jake, resurrecting Jane, and flying himself and the girls back to Jake's island as their session properly began. He hadn't waited on his friends to try anything, not that some of them could have anyway, he simply took action and saved them all.

Rose hummed in thought. "Dirk..." she queried. "Where exactly in your relationship with Dave do you think you're being manipulative and hurting him?"

Dirk hummed and shrugged. "I dunno," he admitted. "Maybe when it comes to things like... I guess everyday things? He isn't good at prioritizing tasks or getting things done, so I tend to take over and I believe that I steamroll what he wants to get my way. I tend to shut down his rambling arguments and I tell him what I view things to be in a... In my mind, manipulative manner and he just... Placidly accepts it."

Rose had a smile slip onto her face, even as she tried to force it down. This made Dirk frown deeply. "What?" he snipped.

Rose giggled. "Dirk," she said. "Has it ever occurred to you that Dave might have issues with ADHD?"

Dirk blinked rapidly behind his shades as he tried to process the question. ADHD? Wasn't that an attention disorder? Dave paid attention to things just fine, especially his interests and conversations with his friends. "That's... No. He pays attention fine."

Rose snorted and shook her head. "No, no, no," she chided, scooting to the edge of the seat. "Dirk ADHD is a dopamine disorder. Dave's brain doesn't produce enough dopamine causing problems with, yes focus, but also balance issues, sugar or caffeine cravings, sleep, overall mood, emotional regulation, executive function, memory, and honestly, so much more. It's part of the reason a good rooftop strife still makes him excited because he's getting a rush of adrenaline and dopamine. He's struggling badly when it comes to things like grocery shopping or organizing chores. He's actually probably grateful when you take things over."

Dirk stared a bit at Rose. That actually made quite a bit of sense, shifting how he viewed Dave. He had never gotten the sense that Dave was as bogged down by his perception of himself as much as other (sexuality and actual emotional expression aside, anyway), so it always baffled him that Dave seemed to struggle to get shit done as much as someone like Jane or John, or even Jake and Roxy. Dave felt weirdly self actualized in many ways to him.

Rose shook her head while Dirk thought. "Back to the original point of your visit," she said. "Dave being a mess of dopamine problems aside, I think you're just looking more like Bro than even he expected, so he's avoiding you. Presumably to try and spare your feelings on the matter."

Dirk huffed in annoyance. That made no sense to him. This was way more hurtful! He wanted to rap with Dave, play video games with him, drink coffees together, laugh at their favorite films... He missed Dave's closeness immensely.

Rose hesitated then murmured, "I recommend simply confronting him. Not aggressively, but simply ask him what's going on and if you can help or fix it in anyway."

Dirk nodded slowly. "Yeah... I can do that."

Before Rose could utter another word, Dirk was on his feet and swiftly walking out the front door. Shrugging, she gathered her things and headed to her office, awaiting an update from either of the Striders.

[dewdwrite]

A perfectly normal Dungeon Meshi fiction

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63104998

It seemed like every day they traveled in the dungeon it got more precarious. Traps were frequent and they ran into monsters nearly every other day. Laios was over the moon getting to fight and then babble on about the monsters they found for hours after the encounter. Senshi didn’t care as long as they could eat it. Marcille and Chilchuck on the other hand were less than excited at the thought of fighting monsters as well as eating them. If it wasn’t for bonds they forged together this party would have split long ago.

They had spent hours in a labyrinth that Chillchuck insisted needed to be searched for traps at every step. Progress was incredibly slow much to the satisfaction of his nerves and the disappointment of everyone else. It had been over a day since the last meal they shared and it was making them restless. Marcille was having a particularly hard time. After hours of tip toeing where the halfoot told her to, her knees were shaking and she was leaning heavily on her staff. She didn’t always eat her fill every night, despite how much energy she needed for traveling and spell casting. Her taste buds were fickle and if she couldn't get past the taste of something she couldn’t force herself to eat it. Combine her picky eating habits with Laios and Senshi’s nature to cook everything in sight and you got an underfed elf.

Marcille had been hungry for hours, since she woke up in fact. She only managed a few bites of last night's dinner, a questionable curry that had god’s know what in it. “Right here next, once I open this gate we should be in the clear.” Chillchucks voice brought Marcille back to reality. She looked where he was pointing and stepped carefully. Laios and Senshi followed one step behind mirroring the path. Chilchuck was preoccupied with a lock, the only sounds in the room were the clicks and clacks of his thieves' tools fiddling with the tumblers.

Another sound filled the halls of the labyrinth. A low droning growl that echoed off the floor and halls. Its point of origin was the stomach of a very exhausted Elf. This wasn’t the first time the entire party had heard Marcilles obnoxious digestive system, In fact it was a sound that they were so accustomed to they instantly recognised.

“Sounds like it's time to make camp Senshi.” Chillchuck said as he got the lock off and pushed the gate open. Marcille clutched a hand over her stomach as she followed behind the half foot with Laios and Senshi following close behind.

Marcile felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment and anger. She felt like she was always the reason they were stopping just because her stomach was the loudest. She took a moment to tighten the thin belt on her robe and compress her hollow stomach. “But we’ve hardly made any progress. We’re never going to find Falin if we keep traveling like this!” She said dramatically.

“Marcille, I want to find my sister just as bad as you do. Part of doing that is staying safe and well fed.” Liaos said

“We’re never going to find her if all we ever do is make camp and cook!” She replied, continuing to whine. Tears were starting to form in her eyes. “All we ever eat is gross food anyway.” she said, starting to sniffle.

Laios was a bit taken aback at her reaction, luckily Senshi stepped in before he could put his food in his mouth.

“Marcille, you didn’t seem to enjoy our meal much last night. Is there anything I could do to make this one more palatable for you? If you don’t eat you're going to get weak and that's bad for all of us.” Senshi said as he dug through his pack checking his ingredients.

Marcille sighed. Senshi was observant and blunt, but he was right. That curry was thick. All the odd ingredients were cut too small and the texture ended up like a spicy porridge. “I'd really like some soup.” She said, clutching a hand over her stomach. Another wave of hunger pangs gnawed at her insides as she thought about what she'd like to eat. “Not a stew. Something with a thin flavorful broth with lots of herbs and vegetables.” She was practically drooling as she spoke and she felt her insides undulating excitedly at her description.

Chillchuck groaned as she spoke. Marcille was the pickiest one out of the group and this wasn't the first time she described her ideal meal. She reminded him more of one of his daughters than a full fledged mage.“Will be able to make a safe camp in one of these passages. There should be enough space for us to fit and enough ventilation for a fire.” He said still focused on finding a place to actually make camp. The group, only partially distracted, managed to follow the halfoot and soon enough find an acceptable place to settle down.

Senshi was deep in thought as the others made camp. He spent the entire time muttering to himself and taking things out of his pack and pouches. “I think I can make you what you’re craving, Marcille.” She turned to him looking up from her spell book she was struggling to study. “Really Senshi?” she asked nearly in disbelief.

“Mhmm.” He nodded and set out a pot over the fire. “I've still got some of that meat from the Basilisk and the bones. I could make soup in just a few hours.

Marcilles eyes lit up at that promise and her stomach clenched with aching hunger. “You can?”

Senshi nodded and got to work.

First take the leftover Basilisk bones and put them in a pot to boil with all your spices. Chop your vegetables, leaving them in large pieces so they'll still have some crunch. Take the Basilisk breast and fry it in a pan with a little oil on both sides. Take it out early so it can finish cooking in the broth later. Strain the bones from the broth and toss them into the fire for good luck. Deglaze the pan with a bit of that bone broth. Stir it to get all the fond off the pan, then add your vegetables.Toss them in some more herbs and spices then add them to the pot with the meat. Let it simmer for a few hours and….it's done.

Marcille took a deep inhale of the steam coming from her bowl. It smelled exactly like chicken soup. Heavy on veggies, herbs and spices. Her stomach growled from the mouthwatering aroma and she brought a spoonful up to her lips trying the broth first. Her eyes went wide before closing in pure bliss. It was exactly like what her mother would make for her. She moved the spoon aside and took two big gulps of the rich broth. She felt it land in her empty stomach and it gurgled joyfully. “This is just what I wanted, Senshi , thank you.” She said as tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

Senshi gave an appreciative nod as he spooned out portions for the rest of the party as well as himself. “I’m not used to cooking elven style cuisine so I'm not as practiced. I’ll try to keep your palette in mind more in the future.” As he spoke Marcille could barely hear him, she was so enthralled by the act of eating a meal she actually enjoyed.

She was the first to ask for a second helping which Senshi happily obliged. The meat was soft and broke into strands and the veggies were large with just a bit of crunch, she couldn’t stop eating. It was after her third bowl that the feeling of fullness actually hit her. She could actually feel her upper stomach pressing against the inside of her robe. The thin belt that she tightened around herself hours earlier was digging into her midriff and she subtly loosened it.

After a few minutes she excused herself to her bedroll. She frequently felt self conscious being the only woman in the party. She was given space whenever she asked for it. Which she was always grateful for, especially now as her stomach groaned ominously. Her insides were churning the massive amount of food she crammed into it. It didn't quite hurt, not that she was familiar with the sensation of a stomach ache from overeating, but it felt…taxing. The suddenness of going from absolutely starving to full happened much too quickly.

Laying on her back she tried to distract herself from this foreign sensation by reading her spell book once again. Similar to last time her stomach was too vocal to be ignored, but for a much different reason. The weight of it pressing down on her thin frame was enough to force her to turn on her side. She could feel the contents of her stomach shift with her entire body and it produced another wide array of noises as she did.

Despite loosening her belt earlier her robes still felt tight and restrictive. She glanced back over at the party for a moment before starting to remove her outer layer of clothes. Her robes alone were three layers of warm cotton fabric to keep herself warm. Underneath it was another layer of fine white cotton she typically slept in, It was much looser, hanging on her body slightly. A wave of relief washed over her as her midriff had room to breath. Satisfied she carefully folded up her robes and took her spell book back out.

Her guts worked overtime to break down her meal, churning audibly. It was an odd sensation to be so focused and intune with your body. She put a hand over her mouth to suppress a hiccup, another clear sign she ate too fast. Reading was a struggle, her eyes wouldn't stay open. The exhaustion of the day caught up with her and her body was begging to do nothing but digest. Closing her spellbook she finally gave in with a sigh. She was already fading in and out of consciousness sitting up. After laying down she was out in minutes snoring softly.

As she slept her soft snoring was overshadowed by her tumultuous insides. The soup was being boiled all over again making her body warm content. The sounds were audible all through the camp but it was preferable to the usual discontent growling of her stomach going underfed. If anything these sounds were a soothing white noise that lulled the entire party into a proper slumber.

[dingodad]

dont understand why people look at classpect and see it as "oh a x of y is this and will always be like this" instead of "this character is like this, and as such can be categorized as a x of y"

even within that framework its still super sloppy (what makes someone a witch instead of a maid) but i just dont get how so many people look at the system and think they should apply it prescriptively

frankly i think this approach is similar in its fruitlessness to trying to determine whether Homestuck's world is deterministic or has free will (it clearly invokes both, because its philosophical goals lie elsewhere). classpect can't be prescriptive because that requires the existence of some narrative force which can predetermine what it wants for the characters and then somehow compel them to follow that path, which explicitly is not true - but it also clearly isn't descriptive, or else you're left to assume that either a) people are unchangeable (a thematically important but philosophically unconscionable position) or b) classpect is changeable, which we can surely agree is absurd.

classpect isn't prescriptive or descriptive because it is essential. John Egbert doesn't 'act like' an Heir of Breath, he is the Heir of Breath: an Heir of Breath acts like John Egbert because that's just who the Heir of Breath is. put another way - far more infuriating, but cutting far more directly to the point - John is the Heir of Breath because he was written to be, and for literally no other reason.

this cuts to another fundamental problem with popular classpect which is that there does not seem to have been any meaningful line drawn between classpect as a "tool for analyzing characters" and classpect as a tool for inventing OCs. you will occasionally hear platitudes along the lines of 'no two Thieves of Light will express their classpect in the same way', but this is not a statement that actually has anything to do with the content of Homestuck as a story - as far as Homestuck is concerned there is one Thief of Light and her name is Vriska Serket! to abstract the Thief class from its explicit purpose in the text and use what we know about Vriska to determine what a completely hypothetical 'Thief of Time' would be like is no longer to be analysing Homestuck: the classpecter is now attempting to use their rigid understanding of in-universe rules to determine the future direction of a creative endeavour, which is called theorycraft. it's anathema to serious adult literary analysis.

ok what point was i even making. basically the larger classpect debate seems to be split primarily between the 'it is very cool to think of classpect as fatalistic' camp and the 'it's more forward-thinking to view classpect as merely descriptive' faction and while i am absolutely firm in my belief that the former (which holds the clear majority) is an outstanding example of Chud Thought and i sympathise with your position with the latter, I am personally far more inclined to take the fabled Middle Road Of Nuance which is that classpect within the text clearly IS fatalistic, but maybe that's a bad thing and just maybe the story wants us to see that that's a bad thing..............?.......?!

[amrass]

Headcanon: Arthur's old horse Boadicea was given to him by Colm O'Driscoll

I have an old HC that Arthur's horse Boadicea was given to him by Colm O'Driscoll, and wrote it out in kind of a drabble style.

I guess I was fascinated by how level-headed Arthur seemed towards Colm in comparison to Dutch in the game. And Colm's "Little Arthur Morgan" comment was pretty sinister. Also, since the name Boadicea comes from the ancient Celt queen, it can play at how Arthur and Colm have heritage from geographically close places (Wales and Ireland) and might've known that about each other.

I think this works with or without shipping, and I'll link the directly shippy stuff twice in the text, as this fuels those two ficlets.

Warning: Dark themes

I think Arthur met Colm via Dutch's dealings with the O'Driscoll Brothers. They must've noted his gun skills. Maybe their first encounter alone was in a stable. Good outlaws need good horses. Arthur was fascinated with Colm's horse, a finer breed than his own. 

Colm must've reminded him of Dutch, too, an unsafe safety. Older though. Speaking to Dutch like an elder, too, and to Arthur as a … dark mentor of sorts. Arthur would be around 16 at the time, and Colm, 34. Colm isn't charming, but he's knowledgeable, and compliments Arthur's skills. Arthur is wary but he likes the praise. 

Colm's brother, Owen, can be there too. Offering more charm, more flowery praise, Dutch-like. Arthur grows wary as the brothers crowd him in. Almost smothering him with their interest.

Dutch finds them, and blanches, not liking how they're eyeing Arthur like a piece of meat. He mutters some hasty excuse to get Arthur out of there. 

Later he tells him to stay away from the brothers because though intelligent, there's something deeply wrong with them.  Arthur: But we're thieves and murderers too, Dutch.  Dutch: (looking haunted) Not like them.

Fast forward a couple of years later.

Arthur, alone, in Annabelle's winter garden. Hosea in love with Bessie, Dutch with Annabelle. Susan depressed from losing Dutch. 

(Vandermorgan edition: Arthur has been in love with Dutch for years, and Dutch hasn't dissuaded it, until he rejects Arthur in favor of Annabelle. "It's nothing more than a boyish crush, son.")

Arthur finds Colm hidden in some corner among the plants, dressed fancily but more anonymously black than Dutch. He's got more gray in his hair now, some black still remaining, and he looks like a cruel, hawklike gentleman. The cruelty he sometimes sees in flashes on Dutch's face never goes away in Colm's expression. 

"You shouldn't let this lie around," he says without looking up, then reveals he's going through Arthur's journal, of course.

Arthur gets mad, then nervous, because he's drawn Colm quite a bit, secretly fascinated, especially because it takes skill to grow old in a business where men die young, and there aren't many like him. Colm doesn't comment upon the drawings though. The silence is strange. 

"You look bored lately. Must be tough, all dressed up in fine clothing, shown off like you're Annabelle and Dutch's wayward son or younger brother. How about doing some jobs for me on the side? Nothing you couldn't handle. Nothing too crude, either. No one has to know. Not Dutch, not Owen. Could be our little secret. Hm?"

I think Arthur was pretty rough in his youth. Delinquent type. Getting into fights. And being ignored by Dutch and his makeshift gang/family doesn't sit well with him. 

He takes Colm up on his offer.

Thieving, mostly. He likes the money. And Colm is generous with attention. Gives him gifts. Tools, mostly. Useful stuff. 

Like Boadicea. A beautiful horse, the strongest Arthur's owned. 

But to keep it a secret from Dutch, he has to train the horse away from him. Near Colm's cabins. Causing them to grow even closer. 

(Link to the ficlets, because the Colm/Arthur part fits here.)

Arthur spends a lot of time in the cabin, training Boadicia.

One day, Colm tells him to wait for his return. Arthur does at first, but then gets a rotten feeling, and rides back to Annabelle's, only to discover that she and Owen are dead. 

Dutch is devastated, and they need to find a place to lay low. They have to go fast, though, because "Colm isn't someone you wait for."

He notices Boadicea and asks if that's what he's been busy with, sneaking away, and Arthur gives a white lie and says yes.

Dutch is relieved. Later, it slips out that the reason Dutch killed Owen was because of him implying that Arthur was Colm's basement boy. Arthur denies it, of course. Dutch raises a brow, and doesn't admit whether or not he believes him.

(Link to the ficlets again, the Dutch/Arthur part fits here).

Arthur feels indirectly guilty for Owen and Annabelle's murder, and always will. But he can't get rid of Boadicea, not with how fond he's grown of her, though she often makes him think of Colm.

Even after she passes after the Blackwater Massacre, he spends his life wondering what would've happened if he waited for Colm back at that cabin. Would he have been shot? Tortured to death? Or forced to become an O'Driscoll Boy?

Would Colm have a different view on the events?

Arthur will never ask, but he'll watch Colm hang.