#HOW DID I LOSE THIS IN DRAFTS

[frownyalfred]

u know who absolutely would flirt with alfred and mean it? Hal. He spends half his time around aliens, a hot 70 year old is not going to give him the ick

Alfred is used to hot 30-something’s trailing after Bruce hitting on him for fun, so his typical response is a more elegant and refined version of “put your money where your mouth is.”

Except Hal Jordan does the math, shrugs, and says alright. I’m game.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

oh boy 2AM !!!!!!

[yo-yo-yoshiko]

Can't any more.

[flwrkid14]

A Love That Hurts: Tim and Danny’s Toxic Tango

It didn’t start like this.

In the beginning, their love had been easy. They found comfort in each other—a soft place to land when the rest of the world felt too sharp. Tim loved Danny’s laugh, the way it lit up a room even when everything else felt dark. Danny adored Tim’s quiet strength, the way he always seemed to know how to pick up the pieces.

For a while, they were each other’s saving grace. Tim helped Danny feel grounded, giving him the stability he hadn’t known since Amity Park became more battlefield than home. Danny made Tim feel alive, like he wasn’t just another cog in the Bat-machine—like he was someone worth loving.

But that kind of love is hard to hold onto when you don’t know how to nurture it.

------------------------

The cracks started small: an offhand comment here, a tense silence there. They chalked it up to stress, but the arguments began to escalate, unraveling the love they’d built. Neither of them knew how to fix it, so they didn’t try.

One fight bled into another. Danny’s voice was sharp. “They’re my friends, Tim. Something you’d know about if you still talked to yours. When was the last time you even answered Cassie or Steph? You’re too busy trying to fix things that don’t need fixing.”

Tim didn’t hesitate. “And when was the last time Val actually came through for you? She’s got her own problems—why does she need to patrol with you? Are you just keeping her around for the nostalgia? Or are you afraid of letting her go?”

Danny’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “Right, because you’re the expert on letting go. How many of Kon’s clones are you going to try to ‘save’ before you realize it’s never going to bring him back?”

Tim flinched, his voice low and venomous. “At least I don’t run back to my exes when I feel like I’m losing control. What’s next, Danny? You calling Sam and Tucker to bail you out?”

Danny laughed, hollow and sharp. “You really think I need them? I’m here, Tim. With you. Maybe if you spent less time in your spreadsheets, you’d see that.”

The fights always ended the same: one of them storming off, slamming doors, followed by hours of silence. When they apologized, it wasn’t about fixing anything—just avoiding another explosion.

Neither could admit the truth: they weren’t protecting each other—they were just too afraid to let go

------------------------

Danny didn’t just distance Tim from his friends; he actively cut them out. He deleted Cassie’s texts before Tim could see them, until eventually, she stopped trying. When Tim noticed, Danny shrugged. “She’s probably busy,” he said casually, though his tone left no room for argument.

Tim didn’t push. After all, he wasn’t innocent. When Val invited Danny to patrol with her, Tim was quick to sow doubt. “You really think Amity Park can’t survive one night without you? Or is it just about her? Seems like you don’t trust me to be enough.”

Danny hesitated, his frustration visible, but he stayed. Over time, Val’s invitations stopped, and Danny didn’t ask why.

------------------------

Sam and Tucker’s visit to Gotham was no different. Danny had been excited to see them, but when the weekend came, Tim hit a low point.

“Do you really need to see them right now?” Tim asked, his voice soft but pointed. “It’s been rough lately. I thought you’d want to focus on us.”

Danny faltered, guilt creeping in. “They already planned the trip…”

“And what about me?” Tim pressed, his voice taking on an edge. “Am I supposed to just sit here and wait while you run back to them? Is that what this is?”

Danny canceled the plans. He didn’t explain, just sent Sam a curt text: Can’t make it. Something came up. He ignored the flood of concerned messages that followed, shoving his phone into a drawer.

When Tim noticed the tension, he didn’t comment. Instead, he doubled down. “You’re better off without them. They don’t understand this life. Not like I do.”

Danny nodded, even as the distance from Sam and Tucker grew into something he didn't know how to bridge.

Tim wasn’t immune to Danny’s tactics either. Bruce invited Tim to family dinner, but Danny’s reaction was immediate. “You’re seriously going to leave me here? After everything?” he asked, his tone more accusation than question.

“It’s just dinner,” Tim said weakly, but Danny’s narrowed eyes stopped him.

“Right. And how long before you’re ‘just’ staying overnight at the Manor? Before Bruce drags you back into his plans? You think they care about you? They care about what you can do for them.”

Tim stayed, sending Bruce a quick excuse. When Dick called the next day, Tim brushed him off with a clipped, “Busy.” Danny noticed the tension but said nothing, a smug satisfaction flickering in his eyes when Tim didn’t bring up the family again.

When Damian later referred to Tim as “too busy playing house,” Danny felt a pang of guilt that he quickly buried under pride. At least Tim was his, now.

------------------------

They were each other’s shields against the world, but it came at a cost.

Danny missed Sam and Tucker fiercely but couldn’t bring himself to reach out, not when Tim would undoubtedly notice. Tim felt the growing distance from the Bats like a weight he couldn’t shake, but he didn’t try to repair it—not when Danny so clearly needed him more.

The truth was simple and ugly: they weren’t protecting each other. They were controlling each other.

Danny missed the Tim who made him feel safe. Tim missed the Danny who didn’t flinch at “I love you.” But neither of them could stop. Because if Sam and Tucker weren’t there for Danny, and the Bats weren’t there for Tim, they only had each other.

And maybe that was the point.

[love-3-crimes]

something about un-roamed paths idk

[defender-of-jouvente]

[st4rstudent]

i feel somewhat responsible for this, even if i’m not the one saying these things. I’m genuinely so sorry.

No need to apologize! It's not one singular person doing it and truth be told I don't think it's a large majority that thinks that (albeit the ones that do are quite vocal). I didn't mean to upset anyone or anything when complaining about it, I was just letting off some steam.

Having a yap session under the cut sorry I feel like rambling under your ask anon.

Admittedly, I do think there are reasonings for people thinking this way. A lot of the focus with Clash has been on the cogs, especially after the 1.3 update. Which I can't say I blame them! Managers were something new and exciting and (from what I can tell) really separated them from the other servers. I don't blame them for wanting to put focus on that because that was their thing. Alongside other things, but majorly when you hear Clash the managers are mentioned in someway shape or form. But as we all know, toons ended up taking the short stick from this. This isn't helped by the gameplay itself, being mainly a fetch-quest deal so you often only talk to npcs once or twice unless if they're repeated ones and the taskline wasn't entirely accessible on the wiki for a while (shoutout to the wiki maintainers. The taskline script is a savior). Which I'm quite excited to see if they deal with this issue with the rewrite. I imagine they will, but anyways. Social media posts would often contain more managers than toons, which I also believe they're starting to fix. And ontop of this, I believe most of the team in the early era of the sever is gone, so there's been some stuff lost in the change. So yeah, dialogue/writing has been kind of rocky. AGAIN- I am completely aware of the rewrite going on and I am not judging them harshly based off of their current state. I'm very appreciative of the fact that they took the time to listen and are focusing on trying to fix it up. And then there's also fandom mischaracterization- especially of the cogs. Forgive me for mentioning mischaracterization because normally I wouldn't really care (I've mischaracterized characters before..especially in my younger years. I think it's just a process of learning an having fun and I hate to limit anyone because of it). With that being said, there's a lot of baby-fying and coddling of the managers. Especially with those who have more 'sympathetic' stories (Misty, Chip, Winston specifically). Don't get me wrong, I like these characters and I can appreciate the story they're trying to tell, but I feel like so many people will hear their dialogue and then misplace their anger. People get mad at Bessie for trying to protect HER lighthouse or at the Elders for trying to keep YOTT safe (lets not forget Winston was there to brainwash toons). Yes, yes technically there would've been better ways to do it but consider this: The toons are scared. Their homes, stores, lives are being taken over by a big corporation that has more resources that they do. They don't have the privilege of waiting, seeing, and gathering. And then people forget that the company has such a huge role in both toons and cogs lives. If you're mad over the mistreatment of Misty or the fact that Winston is still in the dungeon, your anger should be directed at the company who doesn't care. I may be completely wrong in saying this, but I feel like the stories with almost all of the managers is a reflection of the company. The toons are only trying to protect themself and their environments and yet this seems to go forgotten when people start bashing them. And of course, I'd consider myself a toon guy so me saying all this and complaining may come off as "I HATE the cogs and everyone who posts only about them!" and for clarification that's not true. You all know how much I like that little brain thing. The cogs are interesting, their designs are fun, I don't blame people for liking them because I do too. I just wish that the thought process behind so many of these discussions wasn't so cog focused because I believe that this anger at the toons for, RIGHTFULLY, defending themselves helps push this mischaracterization of them as a whole. That they're mean, boring, unlikeable while the opposite is true. Yes there are some, what I'd consider, "filler" dialogue from the shopkeepers. This is just because of the gameplay. But there are some funny and cute moments with them if people would just listen and read.

Which also brings me into another point: people skip the dialogue. I've caught myself doing this before (on my first account. I have 4 accounts total, so I reread the dialogue on like 3 of them). But people will complain about lack of toon personalities while doing this. It's like reading through a comic book, only looking at the drawings, and then complaining because there "isn't a storyline". Luckily, there's been efforts to keep track of the dialogue on the wiki but I doubt a lot of people are going through and reading the entire script. It just feels very disingenuous to criticize the dialogue when you haven't even read it. Likewise, people don't seem to read the blogposts either. This is both from a dialogue aspect and from an update aspect (people continuously asking about hammerspace/mix-and-match under unrelated posts).

[theotherrichardpapen]

...because any moment may be our last. everything is more beautiful because we're doomed.

[platypusisnotonfire]

I just found a draft of a WIP I totally forgot I was writing when I was a teenager and it is digging its claws into me

This book is really barely more than Strong Vibes but it had a character that was raised in a more intense and even more soulless version of the peacekeepers in Farscape, like military society, kids trained from basically birth, don’t know their families, but now with Even More Brainwashing and Creepy Cultlike Stuff.

Character doesn’t even have a name or permanent numerical designation, the absolutely only identifying thing they have is a chip in their wrist that is only readable by computers and is used when assigning missions. On every mission you get a different designation number or code name. They are stripped SO completely of any sense of identity.

Character never been on a planet, never even was taught about planets in schooling or taught what a family is or anything even academically. Has no concept of gender because reproduction is completely done in a lab and no biology of any type is ever taught to the grunt soldiers.

Additionally: never heard music.

Turns out they are an absolute musical prodigy the SECOND they are introduced to music

Like off the charts August rush nonsense.

Then proceeds to have crisis after crisis about that because if I wasn’t taught this then it must be heresy, but how could anything so perfect and beautiful not be from god

[roscvcins]

@sanctissimx asked : "there you are, darling" S.ylus for Tang Tang!!! - My muse is being hit on by someone they aren’t interested in and are visibly uncomfortable. Send, “there you are, darling” for your muse to come and wrap their arm around mine’s waist to guide them away. (ACCEPTING)

Even before she hears his voice, Tang Sanyue knows it's him - he is, after all, a PRESENCE, no matter where he chooses to appear. Like a trust fall, therefore, she relaxes when he solidifies into her space, and takes immediate advantage of his stature, hiding her hand conveniently behind his back - along with, of course, the glinting silver needle that was already poised between her fingertips. In the same motion as they pivot, she turns her nose up and makes an exaggerated and perhaps childish face of triumph over his shoulder at the peeved but now subdued looking man as she's steered down the hall.

" - If you showed up ANY LATER," Turns back to him in a moment, flash of silver arcing through the air as the needle spins between her fingertips, and she tells him, casually, "He'd have lost the feeling in that arm for the next eight or so hours." The would be weapon at the crime scene disappears back into her bag with a flick of her wrist in a moment. "So - if you ask me, he should probably be grateful you've a habit of APPEARING OUT OF NOWHERE."

And if she's mildly CURIOUS that he's found her when he isn't in need of stitches in at least one place, in an area far outside the bounds of their usual intersections, and at so crucial a last second in time - well, her best trait, she thinks, is never overthinking - so for now she'll chalk it up to him conveniently not being busy, and her areas of activity being conveniently linear.

"As for MY thanks..." Steps out in front as they round the corner, dancing backward and turning to face him,"...Have you had time to eat yet?" Hums in consideration, her whole body tilting to one side as she cocks her head decisively. "Actually, NEVER MIND - even if you've already had dinner, you can sit with me - and I'll get you dessert."

Holds out her hand in invitation, palm forward as she wiggles extended fingers, a sliver of mischief glimmering in eyes. "So - what do you say, darling?"

[simikae]

richter? i hardly knew her!

[bleue-flora]

In exile, c!Dream spoke about immortalisation once I’m pretty sure unless it was a joke the cc made about killing and reviving again and foreshadowed it but it’s possible c!Dream either had used the book around the time or was just knew that it could revive and kill people but wow does it change a lot of c!staged only tested the book after prison arc and I believe it for the most part. Except in finale when c!tommy tells c!punz about how he tried offing himself, c!dresm tells him that he could have revived him. Doesn’t this imply c!dream knew about how the book worked around that time or is he telling him he would have tested the book on him even without knowing it worked, or revived him later on after the lazar vikk experiments. What do you think ?

[context]

I mean he had the revival book and even if he didn’t know 100% if it worked he could still be thinking about immortality and such… though hard to say much about the scene without knowing the context and I don’t feel like going on a hunt for it at the moment, but I’ve not seen that moment used as evidence for people’s opinions on the revival book experiment timeline so I’m gonna probably say it’s not of super importance…

As far as the finale goes, firstly I like to as always point out that Dream is saying something to Tommy so already we should put our speculation hats on, because if there’s one person he’s especially know for lying to, it’s Tommy. Secondly, context is super key. In this instance [clip], Tommy is trying to play at Punz’s humanity with his sob story, hoping to make him see how much of an evil monster Dream is [clip]. So, Dream is coming to his own defense of like - Are we supposed to feel bad for you? Does that really make me a bad person if I can bring you back and undo it? (as an aside, here’s that logical vs. emotional reasoning again btw for all those who read my essay)… but anyways, the point isn’t really about whether he could or would have brought him back then or later, it’s more so him highlighting that Tommy is being over dramatic and it wasn’t that big of a deal… if that makes sense. It’s about minimizing Tommy’s feelings, while also adding defense to his own actions. Notice he doesn’t tell Tommy about how he knew he screwed up and went back to check on him [clip], it’s not about what actually happened but about how in the grand scheme of things it’s inconsequential, a theme he and Punz continue to highlight in these streams.

Later, Dream brings up the tower again, this time saying more so almost like the opposite, “You had your—your tower moment right? But—let’s say… that it happened…What you would have been in your limbo—forever? You would have been fine with that? You would have been fine with leaving—Tubbo behind and all of your friends and… You keep saying ‘oh yeah—you know, you can enjoy the moments’ you can enjoy the moments while still being Alive...” [clip]. Notice it’s not about the actual event but using that event to highlight a larger point. Tubbo and Tommy keep berating Dream the whole time for messing with the natural order and playing with death - what’s dead should stay dead… yada yada. And Dream, just like how he called out how inconsequential Tommy and his gripes are, now uses that same things to highlight clingy duo’s hypocrisy… I’m really hoping that makes sense. In other words, it doesn’t matter - it was never about whether he did or didn’t actually have the book or ability back in Exile, it was about using it as a point of reference for Tommy to understand his reasoning…….

Hypothetically speaking though, if we just imagine for a moment Tommy did go through with the pillar: I think Dream might have tried to use the revive book on him whether it had been pre-tested or not. Not only because I think, Dream isn’t heartless and might feel bad about it. But also I think it’d be a great opportunity to gain favor with Tommy as his savior and the rest of the server… huh there’s another AU idea: Dream tries to drive Tommy to suicide in Exile so he can resurrect him and become loved by Tommy and the server again… (I’m sure that wouldn’t backfire or anything…)

[ganondoodle]

so, except for that one painting i still wanna finish im gonna tone down the OC stuff again, zelda work resumes now (°ー°〃)

[ethereal-kloud]

what if: someone (teen, well adjusted, probably) reincarnates as hibari kyōya?

think of a reincarnated male (probably) from modern world, no magic or anything other than technology, probably no major religious beliefs in life-after-death or anything of the sort.

and then imagine that same teen suddenly waking up as a baby, where wanting to walk off by himself is perfectly fine and okay. where sometimes some new relative of his has the ability to make him drowsy, or can heal his scrapes with some strange glow, or the fact that his great uncle is somehow some a literate baby looking thing, but is also somehow older than his grandma.

and the kidnappings, probably, because hey, it’s eye of the storm fon’s baby relative that he’s obviously fond of, right? they could totally get something out of him!

(wrong and nobody ever tried again. probably partly because of what fon did in response, and partly because how was this actual toddler active.

if this happened in canon, i imagine kyōya’s mind would be still fuzzy enough to not have that awareness of the danger he’s in and the will to spark dying will flames. but this one??? with self preservation and the knowledge of dying once sends him straight to activation.)

maybe tsuna or takeshi or maybe even shōichi??? reminding oc!kyōya of somebody he used to know.

ummm when i wrote this i think i had a scene where fon found out (my reasoning was that he saw that kyōya looked like him, old in a too young body) and asked about it and i think it was meant to give oc a little more closure (though i also wrote that he had resolved himself to live as kyōya when he was four??? dunno how accurate that is.)

i,,, actually have a lot more snippets and semi-incorrect-quotes and headcanons than i thought. i guess i’ll include them here, they’re not as bad as i thought they were.

———

kyōya has fon wrapped around his fingers, not that he knows it

Kyōya is all instinct, would go in guns (tonfa) blazing. However, oc is more cautious, and can plan how to talk and scheme his way out of a situation. He also like controlled violence, and so Mukuro’s battle goes a bit differently

kyōya has all but adopted all the street cats. and birds. all of them. including a falcon he is particularly fond of. nobody knows how in the world he tamed that, but he did.

kyōya has connections

kyōya also has minor mist flames

kyōya probably uses his old identity as a disguise, if he had to, simply because who he used to be does not exist.

———

(later part of the conversation because the beginning makes me cringe)

Fon nods, briefly and sadly, but with a weight lifted off of his shoulders. Probably slightly happy that his nephew was never replaced, he’s just always been a bit off and knowing. He probably also thinks it makes Kyōya feel better by talking about it. He’s kind like that.

“Remember to call if you need anything, Kyōya,” he reminds, face back into that calm state. “I will always have time for you.”

He jumps off, but Kyōya is— that reassurance means more to him than he would ever know. Because he knows he’s busy, with the Triads sending him on diplomatic missions because he’s unaffiliated with any particular branch, and that he’s completely fine with the workload, but sometimes just drops on his bed in Kyōya’s room that he had added a year ago. He knows, and to offer at least words and an open ear for his problems of annoying loud children and the fact that the adults just won’t learn, means the world to Kyōya.

(But if his great-uncle ever wants to break free and they won’t let him… He just has to say the word.

Kyōya doesn’t just keep the peace in Namimori, after all, and Irie promised him any favor, as long as he didn’t have to get physically envolved.

Kyōya is a Cloud, and his Physical Territory is Namimori. However, who said a Cloud only had one? Who decided that all Clouds only kept one thing, weren’t greedy for another and weren’t possessive enough to pull it off?)

———

“Uncle.”

“Yes, Kyōya—?”

“A not-baby with a yellow pacifier is in Namimori. He is shooting a first year middle schooler named Sawada Tsunayoshi with bullets that cause him to shout something about his “Dying Will” in his boxers.”

Fon paused. “…I see. So, Reborn is in Namimori. Ah— I heard a rumor that he was going to Japan to train the next Vongola Decimo. Perhaps that’s why?” he suggested. “That Herbivore? Please, the way he’s doing it is just going to make him terrified and reject it even more. He might even become more like his mother as a defense mechanism.”

———

"Hibari, is that a falcon." Despite the format, Kyōya knows it wasn't really a question. "Yes. You have eyes, don't you?" he dismisses. Honestly, his falcon isn't that much of a shock, is it? He knows for a fact he flies around Namimori regularly, and there are no hunters in his town that would dare shoot down any of the birds.

———

reborn: is looking looking for kyōya

kyōya: in the park

reborn: ah, there he—

reborn:

kyōya:

reborn:

kyōya, sighing: what do you want, hitman?

reborn: why are you covered in cats

kyōya: it's winter

reborn, exasperated: nevermind! i'll come back later

[60inchyugiohheadcanons]

On Jōnouchi's ADHD (1.39k words)

This headcanon is probably the longest on this blog; it's some compiled thoughts on how growing up with (undiagnosed) ADHD has affected Jōnouchi. It's halfway between headcanon and fanfiction piece, and was requested by @bloodyscott, whom I kept waiting for too long for a response. I apologise sincerely for the delay.

This headcanon begins below the cut, as it's obscenely long. You may find it more comfortable to read this from the blog page, or on Archive of Our Own (NOTE: tumblr is acting strange. To access the page, copy the link and manually remove the href.li portion and the second https), rather than on your dashboard/search, in terms of formatting and such.

From infancy, Jōnouchi wailed his way out of his crib, out of his room, out of his house—as a baby, he thrashed towards whatever freedom he could find. He loathed the four walls of the crib; he'd scarce room to move. A skin infection brought him, aged 4, to hospital, and the very sight of overrun grey plastic seats and skinny cubicles exhausted him more than his illness had ever threatened to.

In primary school, others’ desks would blend together in a whir. Here he was, stuck, dizzyingly sedentary—the longer he sat, the foggier the world seemed to grow. When he kicked and whined at other children throughout electric lunch breaks, and they shrank from his vitality, he learned to eat alone. As his peers trudged from class in packs, watching the pavement, he sat, sullen, as his father drove him home. Somehow, Katsuhiro had never trusted him not to lose himself in chasing his surrounds. The fabric of the car seat would bite into his shorts, and he’d squirm for the window, squealing towards the noise outside: Birds that cawed; scraps of paper that fluttered and choked on smog. That was a fragile era, when his mother still waited, with dry hands and chipped nails, at home. When his father already stank of beer, but still spoke loudly, deeply, boisterously. Again and again, Jōnouchi’s mother would sit her son down, and write his name, stroke by agonising stroke. She’d recite each mora in time with each character. Yet sound would cluster through his head, and his own name would dissolve amid his mother’s instructions, amid the blaze of sunlight trapped on the windowsill behind her. He would write, and the strokes would come out rushed, mis-ordered, lopsided. 

Iro wa nioedo 

chirinuru wo.

At 10, his father grew quiet, and his mother yet quieter. Silence took up like a plague in Jōnouchi’s head, and swarmed in shapeless formation throughout parched mathematics lessons. Times tables hurled themselves headlong into a skull full of fog, and burst on contact. Are you listening? a teacher asked. How could he listen with a head full of noise, of unspoken words billowing back and forth? He gripped his seat, and glared back. Why should I care, anyway?

When his mother left, his father stopped caring to chaperone him. It had taken Jōnouchi a decade to earn the right to shed his infancy. He resented that it had been this long, so tried to join the huddle of middle schoolers. He told odd stories, and took off, queasy, in front of them. They withdrew their smiles when he approached on the second day. He growled his plaint, and resentment drove him to take the opposite route. He explored back alleys, wallflower convenience stores and dilapidated cinemas; the faster he walked, the more clearly he could see each brick, and the brighter each fleck in the pavement glinted. At speed, he delayed the journey home, and set his eyes on a gorgeous early winter sunset. The colours bellowed, too bold for winter, ungainly and vain. They were glorious.

Jōnouchi came home late. His father glared; fog crashed back down on his shoulders. 

Wa ga yo tare zo 

tsune naran?

A week before she cleared out too few of Katsuhiro’s belongings and packed too few suitcases, Jōnouchi’s mother drove both children two miles to the optometrist. My son, she explained, reads slowly, yet resents reading; it seems he can’t see very well. My daughter’s sight seems clearer, yet she complains of pain. The optometrist forced Jōnouchi to read down a chart of letters; he fidgeted, and, consumed in memories of a lonely lunch break the day prior, passed with flying colours. When the optometrist flashed a light to photograph his eyes, whatever hideous miracle that was, Jōnouchi screamed.

Katsuya Jōnouchi, the optometrist surmised, had perfect acuity of sight. He sought attention, stimulation. Meanwhile, Shizuka Jōnouchi, who had sat entirely still throughout her examination, had more ragged, derelict peripheral vision than her family had anticipated. Untreated, both your children will get much worse.

And in the months after Shizuka Jōnouchi became Shizuka Kawai and Mrs. Jōnouchi became That Bitch Who Never Cared, Katsuya Jōnouchi became horribly aware of how little time he had to be lethargic. He had to survive this schism; yet as he was, he barely felt capable of thinking. He walked, fidgeted, paced to prove to himself that he was a moving, breathing organism. Yet his father’s frustration would brook no exuberance. Long before Katsuhiro fully committed to flinging glass and spurning his son’s misery, Jōnouchi began learning to move silently, slowly, around his father. He memorised which mats snapped and snagged, which bits of fabric hissed when stepped on. He noted which windows opened most quietly. And yet he never managed a perfect, quiet exit. He couldn’t help but be conspicuous; he could only hope to get out too quickly for his father to react. And, to lift the torpor that followed escape, he would run to school, and, after, run back. Never did the sun shine brighter than when he was moving.

Uwi no okuyama

kyou koete.

When he met Hirutani, did he become more violent? No; every punch he threw during his delinquency had waited, kinetic and desperate, for days, months, years. In classrooms, his sole responses to being ordered around had been sullen deference, with sullenness being his sole demonstration of rebellion. Now, threatened with the obsolescence of his ego, of his perceived freedom, he chained himself to violence, over and over. The first time he punched a man in the gut, he found himself shaking. And rather than sink into sallow, domestic remorse, he slathered himself in white rage. And he went back and he went back and he went back, helpless to his own instincts, trying to dredge the noise in his skull out through his fists. No matter how many punches he threw, and no matter how many he received, he could not stop his head from blazing anew the moment he walked away.

Did Duel Monsters afford him any peace? He would be no man’s losing dog; nor would he be confined to dull celebrity. To play as a strategist consigned him to sitting still, committing himself to gambits he could never entirely trust, to moves that demanded a clear head. To play too whimsically would doom him to inferiority. Thus, he gave half his heart to diligence, and half to sheer fortune. Nobody could idolise his kind of folly, nor devalue his kind of skill. This was Jōnouchi’s will—to eschew having to wait in the mire of expectation; to escape the fog of obligation to anyone’s morals but his own. Honour suited him, so long as it was on his meticulous terms. In games of Duel Monsters, he became a knight-errant of sorts: predictably unpredictable, unexpectedly canny, blindly faithful. With this relationship to his own fate laid out so, he could finally draw cards without fearing those next to come. And thus, hyperkinetic, he found a peace in the game. So he played and played until he forgot how long he’d been playing, and Duel Monsters became as second nature.

Asaki yume miji

ei mo suzu.

Two weeks before Jōnouchi’s graduation, Shizuka invited him to her place to dine. Their father was not to join them. Jōnouchi protested, and his desperation died in a pinprick throat. Wisteria spilled itself over the footpath. Each step threatened to plunge, vertiginous, to the ground. 

When Jōnouchi saw his mother, his throat turned to sandpaper. She looked so old.

You cried so much as a baby, she told him. Kicked and screamed to see the world. You weren’t comfortable waiting in your crib—I’d end up coming to you at 4AM, walking you around the perimeter of the house till my heels burned. And you seemed so afraid of all the noises of the night—groaning engines, singing birds. Now, look at you—you’ve grown up so terribly fast.

Could he afford to tell her how even now, he bit down the urge to kick and scream, to launch himself, all fists and sparks, onto his tormentors? No; so, all night, he gripped his glass as tight as he could. The cold lingered and itched on his palms for days. Holding onto things, it seemed, was not so difficult as he’d once believed.

[box-dwelling]

OK so I am like a day past completing the Ansur dungeon and it's been enough time to let my thoughts on it settle. Spoilers ahead.

For context, first playthrough with a basic tav. I'm a good way through act three and have finished a few of the pc quest lines. Minsc, Jaheria and Astarion are done. I have yet to get the hammer or do the house of grief but I have done sorcerers sundries. Also I haven't refused Ulder yet but it like the next thing I'm doing. Other context is that dnd is a huge special interest of mine. I've been playing for about 7 years straight. Both dming and as pcs and I have played under professional dms before. This does affect how I view the game but it's mostly postively.

Disclaimer, I haven't finished the game so there may be some stuff that ends up being done that I just haven't seen but the quest line says it's over and from what I've read online it doesn't seem like that's the case so.

So let's start off with the pros because I honestly have less to say there

As a dm I can and always do look at the dungeon design. Larian is genuinely really really good at this, and this dungeon is no exception. I loved the puzzles though a few could use some tweaking. They arent all great. But there's ideas there that I will probably introduce in my games some time. A chess puzzle especially is such a great idea. That was so cool and the fact bring gale along means you can get the answer free I'd you don't play chess makes perfect sense. Genuinely great.

I also liked the visual design. I had expected the appearance to be what I was starting to dub in my head as the "character development dungeon aesthetic " given that really in terms of design and function cazadors dungeon, the gauntlet of shar and the sorcerers sundries vaults are very very similar. But this one wasn't and I'm very happy about that. Give me some variety.

The Ansur fight itself, AMAZING. Great boss battle. I loved the hell out of it. I'd have to dig into the code to properly tell but it looked like they used a varient of the colossus fighting rules which while I've actually never run but I have been at tables where it has been run to incredible effect. They're good rules. I'm glad to see them used. It honestly makes me consider running them myself.

Last pro, on the face of it, I like the idea. I like the concept of wylls character development dungeon being about learning about the tenants of being a hero from one he looked up to. That tracks. It's a good place to take his charcater at least in theory.

As for the cons, it's mostly one but it's also a big one that has majorly pissed me off. Because Wyll is in my joint top 3 for favourite characters and they did him so fucking dirty.

I really really hated how they handled the twist with the Emperor. I don't dislike him as a charcater but I think it's at least to me pretty unambiguous that he's a pretty shady and morally grey charcater. Which is fine. In fact, it's actually a pretty interesting way to take Wyll's arc. That he looked up to this hero, internalised his mindset through the chambers and then learns that he was actually a pretty shady morally complex figure that doesn't live up to wylls expectation, that is a GOLD mine of character development. That is absolutely fascinating. Except, it doesn't do that. He barely even comments on it. Just says he's forged into a new hero by the trials while ignoring the person who set them is the very shady figure who has honestly fucked us over a lot.

You know who's another hero wyll probably looked up to? Minsc! And the Emperor is a real fucking bitch about letting him join the party.

This is compounded by the fact his good/bad ending choice rather than being a slow build up like everyone else where they get tempted by power and then have to turn it away, he instead just says "hey I could become grand duke" out of no where and then doesn't even need a persuasion check to get talked out of it like everyone else does.

So, I would be remiss without giving a way I'd fix it. So here is that.

Th ansur dungeon isn't given to us by florrick in the lower city. It's given somewhere else before you get there.

I'd recommend like, it being in a book or something in Wyrms crossing. The location is tied to wyll anyway. Maybe add in his childhood bedroom that he asks to go visit. You can put in some environmental storytelling telling that can expand on his complicated relationship ulder. Maybe the room is bordered up and untouched but when you get inside there evidence of genuine love.

When you get there you get the story of ansurs legend and wyll becomes obsessed with using this as a way to help save the city.

The ansur dungeon then gets basically left untouched. Twist and all.

But at the end of it, rather than just deciding he's going to become grand duke, it becomes a question. He can't become grand duke while Ulder is alive. And Bauldrian the great adventurer became a politician after wards. Give the Emperor a reason to not want ulder alive. Maybe Ulder risks not being able to defeat the elder brain in some way, and tie it into his reaction to Wyll taking a deal with Mizora.

Wyll is now conflicted. If his father dies he can carry on in both his and Bauldrans footsteps. Ulder left his child in command of an army before he was an adult. Can he really be trusted to take care of the city? Of course wyll loves him and of course wyll wants to save him but there's that doubt there. I have been reforged in to bauldarns heir. I could do a better job. I could save more people. He abandoned me. Why should I save him? If he breaks his pact this is also fed into by the fact it puts him at very active threat from mizora. It's not that prevelant. Wyll is wyll he's not that susceptible to corruption but a little bit of doubt, coaxed on by the Emperor is all he needs.

Then the lower city.

Make sure you have to get minsc before continuing his quest line. Have wyll have a reaction to the Emperor 's distrust of minsc. These are two of his childhood hero's fighting. Play that up for some drama.

Then saving ulder becomes the thing that either makes him the blade of avernus or the grand duke. He can either choose to not save his father, take on the title of grand duke and rule the city following in baulderans footsteps or, he can kill mizora and swear his life to killing demons as a the blade of avernus. . Later becoming a ranger just like minsc. Even give minsc a few lines giving him a pep talk about it. Maybe even having him explain that wyll need to be his own kind of hero taking the infulances he has from the past and learning from them to become a better one. If the pact stays he just remains the blade of the frontiers if he saves ulder but can become grand duke if he doesnt.

Then, have ulder apologise and then reconcile. Have wyll learn to actually recognise his father as a flawed man who hurt him but who is also complex. Maybe even have an option for if he chooses to fully reconnect their relationship or not.

The bones of a really really really good story are here. Please, for the love of God, larian actually tell it.