#I have no real skills and no ability to function I should just die

[catalina-kachie]

Probably not healthy to be full-body sobbing about how things would be better if you had never existed and then be able to completely stop the crying in less than 15 seconds

[iceskatingmobsters]

so. ffxiv classes for Outer Wilds characters? I am interested

you ever accidentally leave something in your drafts for like a week? anyways, it appears you have activated my trap card--

this is a VERY incomplete list because I'm in between classes for a lot of them. everyone gets a dps and support class so party composition can be shuffled around (because thinking abt party dynamics is half the fun). this is gonna be disjointed as hell bear with me and under a read more because it got LOOOONG. spoilers below ye have been warned

Feldspar: your honor this is a dragoon and I refuse to take any other answer. as for a support class, they're definitely a tank and I can preeeeetty much see them going any tank that isn't paladin but I lean dark knight personally -- the invuln in particular sells it for me, more than warrior's even, because you refuse to die and THEN heal yourself back to full. very self sufficient but still needs help from the party. still can very much see them as a warrior (who needs a healer when you have bloodwhetting) or gunbreaker (superbolide is an objectively funny ability and my brain can't let go of the image of feldspar panic-bolide-ing)

Slate: the easy answer is machinist and gunbreaker and I'm going with that. with all the stupid stuff that machinist gets in its later levels ESPECIALLY like you get a flamethrower and multiple attack automatons it's practically tailor-made for slate "my autopilot throws you into the sun but it's functioning so I'm using it" outerwilds. gunbreaker I'm less sure about for lore reasons but I do know that should Slate go gunbreaker they superbolide maliciously (gossan refuses to heal if slate is tanking). can also see them going black mage or warrior as well

Gossan: I had a hard time pinning them down to be honest!! I've mostly settled on sage/ninja. NIN is flashy but not as much as dragoon is, plus it's more precise than DRG's "jump in the middle of the pack with a trail of fire and pray." also, trick attack/mug I rest my case. could also see them swinging monk because iirc monk has more overall party buffs (possibly red mage but my brain insists they're melee). as for sage this was more of a process of elimination -- I wanted them to be a barrier healer but I didn't think scholar fit them. sage's multitasking "do damage to heal" also Fits in my head for whatever reason

Hornfels: astrologian/red mage. they keep the observatory of COURSE they're an astro! the entire job quest is about awakening your abilities through observation of the stars! I also like the idea of them being a pure healer vs gossan's barrier healing but this is just to service the "slate healchecks the party with superbolide" joke. red mage because it's got so much party utility and Hornfels Is A Mage (black mage Hornfels would be very funny though considering black mage/thaumaturgy lore I'm not sure they'd go that route. summoner maybe, but again, considering lore eehhhhh unsure if Hornfels would like to square up with bahamut any time soon. most hinged member of owv)

Esker: my s.o who loves esker dearly is 100% convinced Esker is a blue mage which is very good considering it's a limited class but in the context of "everyone is actually in eorzea" I myself think they'd go for summoner and a tank (I'm leaning warrior). despite the summoner class quests once you actually do square up with various monsters and primals it gets pretty relaxed from there, and that fits prettty well -- esker did a lot of scary work getting the moon base up and running, and now they're kinda vibing, even if it does mean that the others esp. the newer owv members forget the work they put in (hey remember when summoner had a five-minute/sixty skill opener???). tank, specifically warrior because... ok forgive me but you know the end of bloodborne when gehrman gets up from the chair? That's Esker

Gabbro: they're a bard. quintessential full stop bard. like bard barely has a real rotation you just hit your procs as they light up and the later class quests are "one of your two job tutors and the one that is ACTUALLY A BARD fucks off to do smth stupid and unrelated and comes back with something useful and poignant, somehow" hi hello COME ON. I'm putting their support class as tank but I feel like they pretty much go bard exclusively. if they do tank I initially thought paladin but maybe they get DRK rights after being stuck in a time loop idk. that's probably enough angst to awaken an Esteem if gabbro decides to unpack that (they won't)

Riebeck: scholar scholar scholar it's perfect considering how archaeology-focused the SCH quest line is. Riebeck also deserves a cute lil fairy friend please give this fish eos they deserve a break!! as for THEIR dps class they have to be ranged, no way in hell Riebeck is getting within five ft of Thing That Wants To Kill Us. they're probably either bard or red mage (RDM being the relative Sanest magic dps option though good luck convincing them to Actually Do their melee combo). they'd be a shoe in for MNK since its questline is also about restoring a lost offensive art but, again, not brave enough for that ;; (though that would be a beautiful lil self conatined character arc, going from bard to red mage to monk as they get more confident and braver)

Chert: 100% astro they wear a scarf embroidered with the stars. this also furthers my "hornfels as chert's mentor" agenda (that I really wish I saw more of YES I have wips about it). also it's got lovely angst potential considering astrologians are supposed to divine the future from the stars : ^) I'm pretty sold on chert going monk for its themes of discipline, and because despite its scrappy beginnings, it's also a pretty precise class. could also see them as samurai considering how seriously that class takes itself (at least in its first four or five questlines, I've only got it to 59 yet oops). chert absolutely gets Melee Rights tho

Hatchling: omniclass they get to do whatever they want LOL no, actually, in all seriousness I have them as a PLD -> DRK and reaper. the reaper choice is based on the newest dungeon where you get some lore about a former I think garlean settlement that gave rise to reapers for defence purposes (they were farmers that basically made deals with demons to protect their home from demons iirc) and the nomai could absolutely fuckin stand in for that, so it makes a sort of poetic sense that the hatchling would pick that up after them. PLD to DRK for the same reasons as Gabbro but the hatchling sure does unpack all that

As for the other villagers, I only have four that I have solid ideas for right now. Gneiss is a bard/white mage, Hal is a scholar (there is a part of me that wants to make them a black mage as well since black mage invents new spells all the goddamn time and definitely not because I'm a blm/sch,) Rutile is a paladin, and Porphy is a white mage/dancer (did you know that NIN is really high on the dance partner priority list?? :3c) it'd make more sense for the villagers to be disciples of the land/hand exclusively -- gneiss as a carpenter, porphy as a botanist, spinel as a fisher (lol), hal as probably an alchemist -- but this is already a crack crossover and I'm making the rules so everyone gets a disciple of war/magic even if they wouldn't need one

for party compositions and dynamics I will be brief bc this is so long already but light party one would be feldspar and gossan as DPS, hornfels as healer, and slate as tank OR feldspar as tank, slate and hornfels as DPS, and gossan as healer. light party 2 used to be Esker as tank, gabbro and chert as DPS, and riebeck as healer/esker and riebeck as DPS, gabbro as tank, and chert as healer (though the second config happens rarely). full party would be prooobably esker and slate on tank, riebeck and hornfels healing, and the rest on DPS. once the hatchling is trained they take esker's place -- esker is enjoying their quasi-retirement from adventuring for the most part but misses it sometimes and will step in to fill as necessary.

...oh god I have so many dark knights what happened--

[homunculus-argument]

So I started googling the evolutionary purpose of beards. Apparently there's no single particularly conclusive theory, but there are several suggestions about it, in a varying range of ridiculousness. As my rule of thumb, if nobody knows a single exact reason why something is the way it is, but there's plenty of educated guesses, the real answer is probably a vague mixture of several of them.

I pretty much skipped over the "having a beard makes a man look more dominant, aggressive and masculine" ones, because that's just like saying "male peacocks have big tails because females find them sexy". Sure, saying "people desire desirable things because desirable things are desirable" isn't wrong, but my toddler urge to repeat "but why?" is yet to be quenched.

A beard isn't enough of a hindrance to a man's survival to work as an example of handicap principle. No woman looks at a man with a huge bushy beard and instinctively thinks "ooh there's probably so fucking many fleas in that thing, he's already comfortably feeding so many parasites that I bet he could handle my babies" and gets horny on the thought. At least I hope nobody does, and if someone does, I have to ask you ma'am what the fuck.

A more practical theory that I originally rolled my eyes at was that a beard's functional purpose is to protect the face from being punched by another man. Apparently the human way of punching with your fists aimed forward is an uniquely human one, human arms and shoulders are shaped that way to maximise the amount of force that one can put into a punch with the relatively feeble human ability.

I find it worth considering that things like boxing and martial arts are a skill, not an inherent capability dictated by genetics. So even if you do entertain the idea that humanity has largely been shaped to be ideal for fist fights, the best fighter is still the one with the ability to learn, patience to practice and train, and being sociable enough to be taught by others.

Anyway, back to beards. The thing with evolution and talking about the "evolutionary purpose" of something is that it isn't structured and organised like engineering. Evolution doesn't do blueprints of traits that a life form should have, and then start doing math on how to make it happen. It's more like writing code - you don't know why there's a jpg of a coconut in there, but if you try to remove it, the code stops working, so the coconut stays.

Considering how much a broken jaw sucks today, it's safe to say it was pretty much a death sentence before modern medical science came along. And I find it plausible and sensible to say that enough men were punched in the jaw hard enough to die from the injury, that a tiny random selection of them who happened to have chin hair happened to survive it, often enough that they had more children with those genetics, whose beards didn't hinder them in any way even if they never personally ended up in a fight.

And I don't find it implausible that a man with a tendency to grow a beard and a tendency to get up in fights would have somewhat of a benefit over both men who don't survive fights and don't end up in them.

[the-tiniest-one]

Parenting Rock Lee with Might Guy :)

Note:@xemaliahrssx here ya go! I hope it tastes just like you dreamed it would!

Sitting at the kitchen table, watching Guy and Lee devour the dinner you made, had you feeling nostalgic... You watched with your head rested on your hand. It was the little family moments that you appreciated more than anything else these days. "Yeah! and then I caught him in a cross block!" Lee said, describing their latest mission, his mouth full of food.

"Haha yes yes (y/n) you should have been there, our Rock Lee is becoming a real force to be reckoned with, much like his handsome sensei" Guy said with a wink in your direction.

"Handsome indeed" you said with a grin.

Thinking back to the days when you were a little more of a workaholic made you laugh. If you told your younger-self all those years ago that you would be Konoha's worst helicopter parent in just a few years, you'd have never believed it. Guy was a perfect match for you in that regard. You two were a well oiled machine when it came to parenting.

While Lee could do no wrong in your eyes, Guy was a bit heavy handed in his discipline of Lee's skills as a shinobi. You kissed every bruise and scrape, while Guy was teaching him how to prevent them in the first place.

Rock Lee has had more than his fair share of the short-end-of-the- shit-stick his entire life. BUT One could be forgiven for not recognizing the true level of hardship the boy has overcome in his short tenure as a shinobi. Lee is a true underdog.

Lucky for him, you've always been a bit of a sucker for an underdog.

You thought back to those early days......

Even before Lee evolved to a mini version of your childhood crush, you felt the need to protect him. Watching him fumble and practice jutsu in vain day after day.....early in the morning and into the night. You would watch him from a distance while training your own team. One early morning, you decided to check in on the boy with long black hair. He kicked at a post, counting off as you looked on...10....11.....12.....his kicks were weak even for his young age. As he got closer to 50 he fell back, overwhelmed by the pain of repetitively beating his shins into the wood without chakra to safeguard his bones.

Clearly angry at his situation, the thought occurred to you that maybe he wasn't using chakra because he couldn't....the boy had tears streaming from his eyes. It broke your heart to watch a kid who couldn't be more than 10, cursing his life.

"A kid working that hard shouldn't have to feel that defeated..." you said to yourself.

You felt conflicted. Torn between wanting to step in and takeover his training...but feeling the weight of responsibility that would come with encouraging a child to chase a pipedream that would only lead to disappointment. You knew all too well what happens to weak ninja. The reality was that it would be cruel to encourage the boy to peruse a life as dangerous as that of a shinobi. You were no slouch when it came to taijutsu but ninjas are able to compete with one another because of the advantages that come with developing kakai genki.

Could a boy with no use of chakra stand a chance against the generations of those families of ninja who use fearsome jutsu and tactics like lightning...wind....wood or even hereditary gifts like the dreaded sharingan or byakugen? The real answer was sad and harsh. No. He couldn't.

You wouldn't be so irresponsible as to tell the boy he could be anything but a failure.

If he perused that path, he would die young.

So you stood back, restraining the desire to comfort and nurture the little boy out of what you told yourself was mercy. Day after day, week after week....you watched on....until it became too much. You couldn't sleep anymore, couldn't function on missions the same way. Always thinking back to him still out at those training grounds.....always struggling.

....

One morning it was pouring rain. You called off training that day for your team and headed out to the place you knew he would be. He was there of course. He was doing his best to catch a cold while practicing hand signs to no avail. After watching him for a few minutes you finally asked, "What's your name kid?" speaking loud to project over the rain. Startled he looked up to where you stood, perched on a post a few feat away. "I...Im Rock Lee" he said timidly. You laughed at his shy but sweet face, "Im y/n" you said.

"Your kicks look like they could use some work", holding your palm about chest high, to show him where his blow should be landing. The boy grimaced...clearly angry with his lack of direction in training. You laughed and the both of you worked on his kicks for the duration of the morning.

"I think you'll be a splendid ninja someday" you said as you offered him a bit of lunch you packed. The boy looked up at you with the most heartbreaking fear in his eyes, "I can't use chakra" Lee said barley above a whisper, clearly ashamed to tell you the truth.

You ruffled his hair. "Look kid, life is shitty sometimes. But I can tell you are someone who will never quit. No matter the odds, and that is something worth more than all the talent in the world." He instantly smiled up at you, melting your heart for what would be the first of a million times. Laughing and showing you also first time you saw that shiny smile that you would come to love more that anything on earth.

From then on he was your responsibility. Your chest burned with pride in his concrete determination. Feeling instantly the protective burn and feral instinct to insulate him from anything that would hurt him.

....

It was about a year later when things evolved. You and Lee had become close. He, being an orphan as you found out he was, had taken your invitation to live in your spare bedroom. It wasn't long before you were nagging him to be sure and eat breakfast before class, take baths every night. You were often hearing your mothers voice echo in your own as you guided the child to a structure he lacked.

You even went to his parent meetings at the Academy, much to the surprise of Iruka (because he himself was 2 years older than you and had known you since you were smol) laughed when you asked to see Lee's reports.

----

Then one hot summer day you got the order... your team was dispatched on your first extended mission with your new genin. 3 months on a C rank mission to Suna. Your heart sank as you remembered Lee's graduation exam was in just a few days. Before you left, you kissed his forehead and promised a tearful Lee who had become just as attached as you over the last year, that would bring him back a graduation present.

You just knew he would finally pass.

....

Returning to the village near midnight you couldn't wait to see Lee. After giving report to Lord Third, you quickly made your way home. Quietly cracking the door to his bedroom, you peaked in to see his sweet little face. The snoring boy looked peaceful.

"He cut his hair?" you thought puzzled..."he must have done it himself, it looks a little odd." You laughed at the thought of him using a bowl to cut his hair.

Then your eyes traveled to the headband still around his forehead, "He passed!!!" you quietly celebrated, careful not to wake him up. You placed the promised gift on his dresser, a brand-new set of num-chuks you'd had made in Suna.

The next morning you were up before sunrise making a celebratory breakfast when an extreme round of knocking came from the apartment's front door.

You quickly answered, immediately flustered when on the other side was none other than Might Guy....the same Guy you'd had the hots for over a decade.

"Y/N!, I must have the wrong address! I was looking for one of my students!" Guy said in his familiar boisterous cadence. Laughing nervously you started to respond, when behind you Lee pushed his way through the doorframe. Your eyes widened at the sight.

The haircut made sense now, Lee stood side by side with his sensei. He was wearing Guy's jumpsuit... they could have been father and son.

Looking at the two of them standing side by side in front of you for the first time gave you the most jarring sense of dejavu.

"Guy sensei! Look what Y/N brought me from her most dangerous mission!" Lee brandished the weapon, beaming up at his teacher who laughed and winked in your direction. "Ah, a great choice! Only the most skilled ninja know how to use such a fine weapon! We must enlighten you at once Lee my boy!" With that the handsome jonin and your sweet Rock Lee were off to train.

You had known Guy since he was still struggling to gain entrance to the Academy, you knew that the man who radiated confidence today, only earned that ability through blood, sweat, and tears.

You apprehensively accepted that Might Guy was a good match to be Lee's sensei.

"Be careful!" you called, more than a little apprehensive at the thought of your sweet baby boy training with such an admittedly impulsive man. Feeling a small tug of sadness as you watched the two of them disappear down the street.

"Lee's getting tall..." you though as you closed the door.

....

Over the next few years Lee had grown into a strong young man. You felt such extreme pride in everything he did. Even though you being in your mid-twenties were not nearly old enough to be Lee's mother, he had taken to occasionally calling you mom.

Lee was never embarrassed of you as he grew into a teen like some of the other kids his age. He was always just as willing to give you a hug before a mission as the day you met him.

It would be a lie to say that the relationship you and Guy shared hadn't also matured along the way. Although you weren't Lee's biological parents, anyone would be forgiven for thinking that you were. Everything you had admired about Guy, his hot-bloodedness, his devotion to youthful perseverance, his love of his village had been passed down to your surrogate son.

It was only natural that you and Guy would become a team in raising Rock Lee. Over time after a few years of dinners, training sessions, birthdays, holidays etc...Guy decided to propose to you.

It was a literal dream come true. You couldn't say yes fast enough. But as required when two shinobi become married, when you went to sign the paperwork to make your marriage official, requesting a stamp of approval from Lady Tsunade....she extended to you a folder with a second set of forms.

Guy beamed as you read the contents. Adoption papers with Lee's name printed at the top in bold.

"He will always be our son. Since we are making it official... why not add one more?" Guy said with a laugh. The tears began welling in your eyes. "He's 17" you laughed, "I love you" is all you could think to say in response to the most kind gesture you have ever witnessed.

Guy held his trademark thumbs up high as he replied, "Lee will always need his mom, no matter how big he gets!" His words like music to your heart...

You'd never felt so complete as you walked hand in hand with Guy, on your way home to surprise your sweet son with the news.

Upon telling Lee what the two of you had done, he looked from the papers back to you. Confusion spread across the sweet ravenette's features. "But I do not understand" Lee said with a hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Have you not always been my mom?"

The innocent look in his eye and profound sincerity in his voice made tears well in your eyes for what felt like the tenth time that day. You laughed and swept he and Guy into a hug that didn't last long enough. "What's for dinner?" the two men asked in unison and in that moment you knew you were the luckiest person in the world.

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #200

Wow, what a milestone, huh? It feels like only yesterday we were building Mash. Didn't even know you could grab multiple fighting styles back then. We were also one person back then. Things change. Things change even faster when you have magic eyes that let you bend anything you can see, so let's hurry up and build Asagami Fujino already. She is a Quandrix Sorcerer to tear apart anything she lays eyes on, as well as expand her field of vision beyond what her eyes can see. Dangerous combination, that.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: In the dark of the night, evil will find you! (If Rasputin ever become a playable character I am really going to regret using that one here.)

Wait, what's that...

Race and Background

No surprises here, Fujino is a Variant Human, because normal humans can't tear people apart with their mind. That means she gets +1 Dexterity and Charisma, as well as proficiency with Perception (kind of her deal) and the Tough feat. HP isn't just how much body you have to get hurt, it's also how badly getting hurt affects you. Fujino's deadened sense of pain means she can take hits and keep going, purely due to the fact that she doesn't realize she should stop. That means you're getting an extra 2 HP each level.

Fujino is a schoolgirl, so the closest thing we have is the Cloistered Scholar background. That gives you History and Nature proficiency.

Ability Scores

Your highest score should be Charisma. Your magic eyes are an innate part of you, and it's really easy to be frightening when you can tear a bridge down around you. Second highest should be Constitution, for the reasons we outlined in your background feat. Your Dexterity should probably be pretty high, you fight in clothing, and you fought against Shiki for more than five seconds without dying. That's impressive. Your Intelligence isn't that bad, though you're still going through school. We aren't dumping Strength, it's alright, but we are dumping Wisdom. You have a hard time feeling yourself and feeling connected to other people.

Class Levels

You're a Sorcerer, giving you proficiency with Constitution and Charisma saves, as well as proficiency with the Intimidation and Arcana skills. You've got magic implanted in your face, and again, bridge. As a Sorcerer, you can cast spells using your Charisma. Blade Ward deadens your senses further, giving you resistance to physical damage types for a round. Mending lets you twist a small item back together, instead of tearing it apart. Sword Burst is a short range bending... sorta. Force damage is hard to quantify. But it's free, so that's nice. You can also Shape Water to bend liquids to your will. For first level spells, Mage Armor helps you not die, and Magic Missile lets you shoot little bursts of twistiness that'll never miss. You also join the school of Quandrix, which gives you the starting gift of the spells Guidance and Guiding Bolt. They aren't super in character, but they're free, so suck it up. More Importantly, you learn Functions of Probability, helping you bend luck in your favor. When you cast a leveled spell targeting a creature, you can add an effect to a nearby creature (yourself included). A Diminishing Function forces a wisdom save (DC 8 + Chr mod + proficiency), and if it fails it subtracts 1d6 from the next attack roll it makes this round. Turns out swordfighting is hard when your sword is a corkscrew. Alternatively, a Supplemental Function lets a creature add a d6 to an attack or save made in the next round. This part is less believable, but if you're creative I'm sure it'll look good.

Second level sorcerers are a Font of Magic, giving you sorcery points equal to your level per long rest. You can turn them into slots, or turn slots into points. Eventually you can do other things. Also, you can cast Thunderwave now. It destroys objects, you destroy objects, it's a match made in heaven.

Now that you're a third level sorcerer, you can make your spells truly your own thanks to Metamagic! If you cast a Heightened spell, one creature in its effect has disadvantage on their save against it. If you cast an Empowered spell, you can re-roll a couple damage dice. Tearing people in half is generally hard to avoid, and kind of damaging. You can also bend the air itself by casting Dust Devil, creating a Medium sized tornado, dealing damage to creatures nearby and pushing them around. It'll even pick up dust and make things hard to see, though that's kind of a drawback for you.

Use your very first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Charisma. Kind of a spell-based build, to be honest. Speaking of, Mage Hand probably doesn't have much tearing force behind it, but it's free. You can also cast Shatter for more indiscriminate destruction.

Fifth level sorcerers gain third level spells like Clairvoyance! Now you can see a bird's eye view of the battlefield, tearing your way through it like, well, you.

At sixth level it's about time you started bending the earth to your will. You can Velocity Shift nearby creatures if they start their turn or move within 30' of you. If they fail a charisma save you can shove them to any other point within 30' of you. You can react this way 30' per long rest. Twist debris at people and watch them scatter, it's fun. To help with that, you can also cast Erupting Earth, bending the ground in a 20' cube. This forces dex saves on creatures in the cube, dealing damage and making the area difficult terrain until it's cleaned up.

Seventh level sorcerers get fourth level spells like Stoneskin for even more deadened senses. Now you resist physical damage without having to waste your action every turn. It does use your concentration, but it lasts an hour.

Another ASI! Max out your Charisma for super special eyes. You can also Control Water to create truly damaging whirlpools. There's other options, but whirlpools! Who'd want anything else?

Oh hey, I found something you might want else. It's fifth level spell Bigby's Hand! You can grab people and play with them like a stress ball. Technically there isn't a twisting option, but a Grasping Hand is probably the best you'll do. It'll grapple a huge or smaller creature, and if it successfully does so you can Crush it as a bonus action for damage.

Another Metamagic option! Technically these spells are all just you looking at things, so grab Subtle Spell so you don't have to yell out all your attack names. You can also Mold Earth. It's not that powerful, but it's free twisting. You also get Telekinesis! Again, no "twisting" in the rules, but it's strong enough to lift an object of 1000 pounds, and fine enough to open a door. Their heads should be popping off here.

Sixth level spells! Here are the big boys of the spell world. If you twist anything enough, eventually it'll Disintegrate, dealing plenty of force damage and leaving behind a mess you can't even revive. A little too clean for Fujino, but it's destructive enough.

ASI time. Bump up Constitution for a thicker skin and more HP. HP changes retroactively, so you get an extra 12 HP here.

Did you know turning into rotini is painful? Your enemies certainly know that, thanks to Power Word Pain. If a charmable creature has 100 HP or less, their speed drops to 10', and it gets disadvantage on all attacks, checks, and saves, aside from constitution saves. If it tries to cast a spell, it'll be wasted if it can't pass a constitution save. The target stays in pain forever until it can pass a constitution save.

Cool, so fun thing about these Multi Class Subclasses! As long as you're the correct level, you can take any one feature they have each time you hit the appropriate level in your main class. Since the highest requirement is 14, we're taking Quantum Tunneling now, and we'll pop back to the other one later. Your senses permanently deaden, giving you complete resistance to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage. You can also bend your way through any physical objects, as long as you're willing to deal with a halved movement speed and 1d10 damage each square you move. You also have to end your turn in an empty spot. Playing to character this should leave a huge hole behind you, but maybe you're conscientious? You weren't raised in a barn, after all.

Your eighth level spell is Earthquake. Now no structure in your view is safe from your destructive powers. Tear open the earth, shatter structures, and interrupt concentration, there's nothing you can't do!

Bump up your Dexterity this ASI. Not getting hit is still pretty useful, even if you can't feel it.

Remember when I said turning into rotini hurts? I was wrong. Actually, it kills you. Please grab Power Word Kill to reflect these changes. You have become death, destroyer of mages. You also learn how to cast Distant Spells, doubling your spell's range. Your range should be "anywhere in sight", so this is a step in the right direction.

Okay, I guess we'll grab Null Equation. Once per turn you can twist up a creature you damaged. If they fail a constitution save, they get disadvantage on strength and dexterity saves, and they only deal half damage with weapon attacks, all for a round. You can do this Proficiency times per long rest. Again, real hard to hit people when your femurs are spring shaped.

Use your last ASI for more Constitution for more HP and better concentration.

We've finally done it, we've made a pure sorcerer build! It's time to finally learn the dark secret of the Sorcerer capstone. What feature could be so powerful we've completely avoided it for 200 builds? It's Sorcerous Restoration. You get 4 sorcery points per short rest. It's not good. Sorry.

Pros and Cons

Pros:

You're good at dealing damage, and your most powerful spells deal Force damage, which almost nothing blocks against. That means you're consistent and deadly, a solid combination.

You're so good at damage that it isn't just limited to creatures. Use telekinesis, mold earth, and shatter to tear apart structures that are getting in your way. Walls? Torn down. Steel Beams? Melted. Bridges? Falling down.

Despite spending your entire time in a class with the worst hit dice imaginable, you're pretty tough to kill, with just over 200 HP, a decent AC for a spellcaster, and permanent resistance to physical damage types. To make things worse for fighters, it's also a pain to get near you, since you can tear up the area around you and shunt melee fighters away as a reaction.

Cons:

While you do have magic missile, a lot of your spells deal damage in wide areas, so your party might have words with you about using earthquake one too many times.

While you're good at tearing things up, that's just about all your magic can do. There's the occasional Clairvoyance and some defensive spells, but by and large you're either dealing damage or doing nothing.

Despite your great physical defense, you struggle a bit more against other damage types. If you end up fighting someone who can turn their knife into psychic damage, you might have a problem on your hands.

[endricus]

Everyone always talks about not being ableist towards those with disabilities such as Down's Syndrome, blindness, deafness, etc everywhere. What about those of us with invisible ones?

In the education system we are actively discriminated against. I personally haven't had the supports I have requested, my teachers barely read my IEP and/or just ignore it, and I wasn't even told until halfway through the year that I was supposed to be going to speech therapy. And I can't do shit about it because I don't have the money to fucking go after them for it.

Why the fuck does nobody ever talk about the discrimination against those of us with "invisible" disabilities!? Nobody ever rallies, nobody in the media ever brings attention to it. Most of us won't ever be able to get full time jobs, employers actively refuse to hire those of us with autism and get away with it.

Nobody ever takes the time to even listen to us because we may seem like we can speak normally and act somewhat "normal". Wanna know something? Faking being "normal" so people don't bully you and so people actually take you seriously is fucking exhausting. And as soon as we go into adulthood, suddenly nobody gives a flying fuck.

People get mad when others say the N word or when they call something 'gay' as an insult, what about people calling shit autistic and saying "Stop being so autistic" is so normalized? Why are people allowed to fucking mock us and nothing is done?

Government disability checks do NOT cover shit, and most of us end up living at home because we can't even afford or because we are unable to physically handle moving out on our own.

Stop fucking refusing to hire us for something we can't control, stop acting like we are below you. And stop acting like autism affects everyone the same.

For example me? I may not seem like I have that many issues, as I can articulate this fucking rant. But guess what? In real life I am considered disabled. My memory is literally 21st percentile and I have serious issues communicating with anyone I'm not familiar with effectively. I cannot even focus for 30 minutes straight without drugs, and I am unable to even ride a bike or swim. I cannot even cook due to my poor memory resulting in me forgetting shit like something being in the oven, even with reminders. I couldn't even work a job if I wanted to, as I cannot function in that kind of environment. My cognitive skills and processing are slow aswell, and I get called lazy for it.

Nobody takes me seriously due to my speech impediment or social issues. Nobody acts like I matter when guess what? Just because someone is disabled does not mean that they don't matter. And even of those of us with "invisible" disabilities do know what we are talking about, do not fucking say we are lying.

There are many things we are made to hide due to the stigma around being disabled. I even have to rely on assistance from the state as seeing a psychologist specializing in autism is expensive as hell on its own. Don't even get me started on the issues ADD causes and how expensive that'd be without assistance either.

Getting basic treatment to be NORMAL should not be locked behind a $300 paywall. We should not have to suffer in silence as when we do speak out, we are ignored. People focus on gender equality and racial equality, but what about ability equality? All forms of discrimination are unjust, and ability inequality needs to absolutely be taken just as seriously.

We are still beheaded, jailed, or punished in many ways in even more countries just for being born this way. Gender and racial inequality are not ok, and nor is ability inequality. So please, if you are neurotypical, help us. Get other people to please stop ignoring us and to take us seriously. And to my fellow neurodivergents, can we please stop fighting over what is and what isn't a disability and just fucking tackle the serious ableism all around us already?

Also, autism speaks needs to fucking die already. They are not helping and are making this much, much worse.

[morwensteelsheen]

so @tinacharles and I have sort of been having this conversation about the varying levels of culpability of all the men in Éowyn’s life re: her abject fucking misery, which got me to thinking about how that discussion would play out in-universe.

I know it’s pretty popular (and not incorrectly so, imo!) to have Éomer being fairly distrustful of Faramir, but I think it's underplayed just how much ammunition Faramir has to be out-and-out fucked off with Éomer on Éowyn's behalf.

Part of that understatement is a desire, I reckon, to see all the named Rohirrim as basically innocents, manipulated beyond aid by Wormtongue, and functionally helpless until Gandalf and the Three Hunters show up, but that's a take that is, imo, too reliant upon what we get in the movie canon and not reliant enough on what's actually written in the text! The point of Théoden's downfall is that it is his pride and his hubris (and not any magic!) that is his undoing, and it is Gandalf's reminders that his responsibilities are greater than the weight of the injuries to his pride that "brings him back" so to speak. The ability to stop fucking around exists at all moments within Théoden, there is no magic, no great battles, not valiant rescues involved, it's just about him putting his big girl panties on and dealing with his own life. But because there's a tendency to see too much of the movie canon in these characters, their relative culpability in Éowyn's immiseration is largely erased, which is incredibly unfair both in terms of treating these characters with the nuance they deserve, but also in terms of treating Éowyn's misery with the seriousness it deserves!

And a key element of this is Éomer's complacency/culpability in all of this. I often quote the conversation between Gandalf, Aragorn, and Éomer after the Pelennor about Éowyn's ~fundamental unknowability~, but I think it is, uhhh, pretty fucked up that Aragorn, Faramir, and Gandalf are all able to spot out Éowyn's deeply destroyed mental health within minutes of coming into contact with her (and yes, it is true enough that they're all powered-up slightly by magic-ish things) while Éomer, who has spent literally his entire life around her, doesn't really have an inkling of what's actually going on in her interior life. That's really upsetting to me, and is no doubt deeply upsetting and isolating for Éowyn, who has basically no other people in her life until Faramir shows up (you know, after she literally tries to kill herself!).

More than that, when Gandalf and the Three Hunters show up and immediately break Théoden free of his pity party, we don't get a sense that undermining Wormtongue has any actual political repercussions—Hama (👑) immediately names Éowyn as the favoured heir to the throne, which says that she's got a substantial amount of organic support where and when it matters. Yes, it's true they immediately have to go fight Saruman's forces in Helm's Deep, but Helm's Deep is a pretty unique battle in the books for how "small" it is in terms of coalitions: the Rohirrim fight that sucker almost entirely unaided! So if a consequence of unseating Wormtongue had been facing down Saruman's lot on the battlefield (assuming that he would have been prepared to do so at any point before the canonical Battle of the Hornburg), we know that the Rohirrim could have handled it, and what's more, they might have been in an even better position to have handled it, because Théodred would have likely still been alive, alongside however many men they lost at the Battle of the Fords of Isen. A lot of words to say: there's really no indication that there was a danger, per se, to beating Wormtongue's ass down; but we do know that there was some obstacle. Tolkien goes pretty far out of his way to hint that it's a lack of will that's doing most of the work there. As readers, I think we're all mostly content to ignore this element of Éomer's complacency because we do largely see Éomer at his best and most noble, but I think we do a real disservice to both his and Éowyn's characters for not dealing with that more intimately.

Anyways, my original point is that I think Faramir has really good reason to be quite grumpy with Éomer and I think he'd actually probably be supported in that frustration by Éowyn, who would almost certainly be pretty chuffed to finally have someone fighting her corner after so many years. I don't know exactly how Faramir's frustration would manifest—almost certainly not with the level of vitriol and overtness that his frustration with his father manifested itself, but I do think he would be very good at making sure that Éomer is keenly aware that Faramir is Unhappy about his actions/lack thereof. That, I think, adds a really interesting dynamic not just to Éowyn and Faramir's personal life, particularly as they're off starting their lives together, but also their political life, given that Éomer is the new King of the Riddermark, shown to be exceptionally close with both Aragorn and Imrahil, and, of course, is later married to Faramir's cousin—some of Faramir's last living family.

Edit: just picked up the books to double check some stuff so adding cites beneath the cut

On Théoden's 'malady':

"the influence over him that Gríma gained when the King's health began to fail. This occurred early in the year 3014, when Théoden was sixty-six; his malady may thus have been due to natural causes, though the Rohirrim commonly lived till near or beyond their eightieth year. But it may well have been induced or increased by subtle poisons, administered by Gríma. In any case Théoden's sense of weakness and dependence on Gríma was largely due to the cunning and skills of this evil counsellor's suggestions."

From Unfinished Tales, V. The Battles of the Fords of Isen.

On Éomer Missing The Fucking Point:

"But Aragorn came to Éowyn, and he said: ‘Here there is a grievous hurt and a heavy blow. The arm that was broken has been tended with due skill, and it will mend in time, if she has the strength to live: It is the shield-arm that is maimed; but the chief evil comes through the sword-arm. In that there now seems no life, although it is unbroken.

‘Alas! For she was pitted against a foe beyond the strength of her mind or body. And those who will take a weapon to such an enemy must be sterner than steel, if the very shock shall not destroy them. It was an evil doom that set her in his path. For she is a fair maiden, fairest lady of a house of queens. And yet I know not how I should speak of her. When I first looked on her and perceived her unhappiness, it seemed to me that I saw a white flower standing straight and proud, shapely as a lily, and yet knew that it was hard, as if wrought by elf-wrights out of steel. Or was it, maybe, a frost that had turned its sap to ice, and so it stood, bitter-sweet, still fair to see, but stricken, soon to fall and die? Her malady begins far back before this day, does it not, Éomer?’

‘I marvel that you should ask me, lord,’ he answered. ‘For I hold you blameless in this matter, as in all else; yet I knew not that Éowyn, my sister, was touched by any frost, until she first looked on you. Care and dread she had, and shared with me, in the days of Wormtongue and the king’s bewitchment; and she tended the king in growing fear. But that did not bring her to this pass!’

‘My friend,’ said Gandalf, ‘you had horses, and deeds of arms, and the free fields; but she, born in the body of a maid, had a spirit and courage at least the match of yours. Yet she was doomed to wait upon an old man, whom she loved as a father, and watch him falling into a mean dishonoured dotage; and her part seemed to her more ignoble than that of the staff he leaned on.

‘Think you that Wormtongue had poison only for Théoden’s ears? Dotard! What is the house of Eorl but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor among their dogs? Have you not heard those words before? Saruman spoke them, the teacher of Wormtongue. Though I do not doubt that Wormtongue at home wrapped their meaning in terms more cunning. My lord, if your sister’s love for you, and her will still bent to her duty, had not restrained her lips; you might have heard even such things as these escape them. But who knows what she spoke to the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night, when all her life seemed shrinking, and the walls of her bower closing in about her, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?’

Then Éomer was silent, and looked on his sister, as if pondering anew all the days of their past life together."

From Return of the King, VIII The House of Healing

[wisteria-lodge]

snake primary + snake secondary (bird model)

Hello! I recently discovered your blog and really love the thought you’ve put into the nuances of the SHC system. I’m super into these kinds of personality analysis systems (I’ve probably been through them all at this point) because I think it’s interesting to know how people tick - I also think self-awareness is important so that you know why you do what you do, essentially. I took the SHC quiz and it told me I was a Snake Primary with a Bird Model, and a Bird Secondary with a Snake Model. I agree that I’m probably a (somewhat petrified) Snake Primary with a strong Bird Model, but I’m not sure which is my true secondary and which is the model. Maybe you can help?

I can sure try :)

Some things about me: I’m an oldest daughter, and I’m almost 100% sure my dad is a Bird Snake and I *idolized* him as a child - I thought he had it all figured out. He was the Zeus to my Athena in my child’s eyes, and I think I got my Bird primary model very early from copying him.

I mean, I know what you mean in a “sole creator” sense, but there is no *way* Athena thought Zeus had it all figured out.

My two younger brothers are a Lion Snake and a Lion Badger, and my mother is possibly a Double Badger, though I’m not as sure about her - maybe she just thinks that she *should* be a Double Badger. I think all that is important to help illustrate that I didn’t really feel *at home* when I was with my family, though I loved them, since I was the only Snake. My parents also had a terrible relationship and are now divorced, so there’s that as well. I think the only time I have ever been truly morally outraged was the revelation that my dad had engaged in infidelity against my mom, and then again when he started dragging his feet over a promise the he had made my youngest brother. We didn’t speak for a long time after that incident, but I was really cut up over dropping him.

Oh yeah. That’s very Snake primary. Morally outraged because your People are getting hurt.

We eventually started to reconcile, and the only reason we did was because he called and said he was driving through my city one day, and even after all of that, I said yes to meeting up because I felt sad that I had dropped him. I think this family dynamic, plus some other childhood stuff, led to me sort of “checking out” and petrifying pretty early.

Just a theory - I think it’s possible that this hit your secondary more than it hit your primary. You seem pretty strong and confident in your Snake primary so far. Even the fact that you can identify it coming from such a non-Snake environment, and don’t feel guilty about it, is big.

I had a lot of trouble making friends in school.

I’m thinking this might be more of a secondary thing.

and generally ended up with like one friend who was the other weird girl, and who I always sort of kept at arm’s length emotionally. I moved schools several times as a kid and after the first best friend (who was the daughter of my mom’s best friend and was like a sister to me until she moved away), I really didn’t try too hard to make new “best” friends.

Hmm. See, this reads like a *default* friend to me, not a friend of choice. The other weird girl. The daughter of your mom’s friend. That’s an easy friend to have… and not one that you necessarily sought out. I’m not surprised that your primary didn’t latch onto her with that Snake intensity.

Even now, though I definitely have concentric circles of loyalty and a significant other who is my “top person”, I’m not sure I have that blind Snake I-would-literally-die-for-you loyalty toward anyone - I’d kill or hide a body for my top circles

That *is* Snake loyalty. Snakes aren’t going to die for someone else, are you kidding? That’s a sucker’s game. They value themselves too much.

I would give up a lot of my own comfort for my significant other. Maybe I’m just afraid to let myself feel that unquestioning loyalty, though I want to feel it, or maybe I’m really a Bird and just want to be a Snake because that would mean I could be un-broken eventually.

Let’s talk about your secondary, I want to hear about how you think you’re broken, because so far you seem fine. Congrats on the SO!

I don’t think I’m an Idealist though - I’m surrounded by them and I know I don’t care about “principles” the way they do. Then again, maybe I’m a Bird whose truth is that moral relativism is the truth lol. Anyway, I think for my primary, I’m probably a petrified Snake with a Bird model unless I’m totally wrong about myself.

I think you’re just a Snake who… is a Snake.

(you’ve got that Birdy influence though, from your dad, and they do like to complicate things.)

As for my secondary, I loved to read (everything - all kinds of fiction, especially sci-fi/fantasy/mystery and, like, Victorian sci-fi/horror adventures, nature books, medical texts, etc. Wikipedia was a revelation when it came out), and I was smart and good at taking tests and knowing the answers in school, so at a certain point I think I just defaulted to being “the smart one” and used that as armor to help keep people from getting too close.

yep yep yep, welcome to the ‘fun Bird model’ club, we have snacks

I do genuinely love to learn, and I’ve always been known among friends and family as the one who either knows the answer or will look it up. I love pop culture trivia and nature facts. I also love and am good at debate, but not really when real feelings are involved - I more love the “battle of wits” aspect, where I can match up against a person to see if my knowledge and ability to adapt my argument on the fly can stump them. 

I also would argue the unpopular point, or the point I didn’t agree with, just for sport. Fun Bird secondary model.

I developed terrible anxiety and probably some depression as well in high school.

Okay, now I’m seeing the problem.

and now that I’m older, I suspect that I may have ADHD, though I haven’t been officially assessed. I didn’t discover my executive function issues really until college, when suddenly being smart and being able to figure out the test answers through context clues and what I remembered from lectures and readings + whatever trivia I had gathered about the topic wasn’t enough anymore.

I suspect you’re right about being ADHD. Or at least being neruodivergent.

I am horrible at studying! I would plan out my study sessions and make these nice little cheat sheets (these were allowed on exams) and they didn’t work at all! I did very well in my literature minor though, because all the graded assignments were papers rather than open-answer tests, and I could get my thoughts out better and with more resources at my disposal if I forgot something and needed to go back to the book to check.

Oh ouch. Yeah, I’m not even relating this back to a secondary, because I’m reading this as a working memory thing? Like ugh tests are such a terrible way access knowledge. What is even the *point* of memorization anymore? You should have been able to have a college career that was completely writing papers, like I did.

I was at one point very jealous of my Lion Snake brother, who I felt could do “whatever he wanted” with minimal consequences, while I always felt constrained by being “good” and not rocking the boat too much with my family.

Yep. That’s being an oldest daughter.

I couldn’t understand why he didn’t seem to care about being considerate to everyone else in the household (especially my chronically overworked, can’t-say-no Badger mom lol).

It’s because he’s the youngest. Mine’s the same.

This attitude was definitely influenced by my anxiety issues at that time, since I had (and still have) a lot of trouble asking for anything - help, permission, whatever. I’d rather do things and explore on my own, without anyone watching, so I don’t have to ask and don’t have to explain.

Did you low-key raise your younger siblings? Because it sounds like you raised your siblings.

I feel better with a little bit of distance, and definitely wear masks in most situations. I’d say my masks are half conscious and half reactive - I do have some idea of how I’d like to be perceived, but it’s only kind of systematic.

That makes me think Snake or Badger secondary.

I have a few “characters” that I use as touchpoints when I’m going into a new situation, but once I’m there I mostly just act nice and funny and see what happens.

So far I’m going with Badger secondary (be nice and and assume it’ll be fine is very badger) with a fun Bird secondary model, that you can do an Actor Bird thing with. Although liking to “just see what happens” is pretty snake.

The characters are really just costumes I use to give off a certain first impression, although I do really like the costumes and find them fun. I love clothes, makeup, and perfume too, because I enjoy the idea of making multidimensional costumes for different settings. I actually enjoy the mask a lot of the time - I have tattoos that are purposefully in places that I can cover easily, because I enjoy the idea that there’s something under the professional mask that people only know about if I show them. I’m a bit socially awkward I think (I repeat myself and talk a lot), but most people tend to either like me or tolerate me, and I don’t get into a lot of interpersonal conflicts. 

Hm. Either Courtier Badger or Snake secondary, fun Bird secondary model. However. Especially after talking about your Actor Bird in such fun, positive, happy language… I am going to call you out for “socially awkward” and “people tolerate me.” Which tells me you don’t have as much faith in your social skill set, and it’s *maybe* a little burnt.

(Also, not to get too armchair psychologist tell-me-about-your-mother, but if your mom has a  “chronically overworked, can’t-say-no” Badger secondary… that’s going to affect how you see Badger secondaries.)

Right now I work in a very Badger/Bird workplace, and it’s really a terrible fit, even though I can squeak by enough to fool my superiors into thinking I’m doing a good job. 

oh we’ve got some imposter syndrome, that can also be a burnt secondary thing.

It’s all long-term planning and daily maintenance tasks, and I really don’t like it. I change most of my plans partway through, but I’m not sure if it’s because I’m really an improvisational secondary at heart, or if I’m truly a Bird that’s just bad at planning for all of the variables.

I’m going to say you’re not a Bird. Making cheat-sheets (which is a very Bird secondary strategy) also did not work, and you feel confined by, not comforted by plans. You’re not a Lion, you enjoy keeping your true self to yourself too much. You could be either a Badger or Snake. And if you really hate daily maintenance tasks… that could be coming from a few places, but it makes me lean Snake. 

I love being in situations where I can iterate on a plan, or make a new plan on the fly. I love escape rooms and am pretty good at them; I still get stumped and need hints sometimes, but when I *get* a puzzle, it sort of just clicks for me? I don’t think in a very linear way and am not a good chess player, but I also have never studied chess so perhaps I just am at a knowledge disadvantage in that game. 

This is also you using Bird to have fun, and we know you *love* using Bird to have fun.

One of my proudest moments

okay this is definitely going to be helpful

was when I was on a day trip with my significant other, and we needed to find a place to buy food quickly so we wouldn’t miss a specific ferry and then a specific bus - we were on an island, and near the ferry station the restaurants were all too expensive and we were worried they would take too long anyway. He was starting to get frazzled, but I was able to think on my feet, and we just grabbed a calming beer (lol) at a creepy neighborhood bar, then got on the ferry and bought microwave meals at a 7-Eleven by the bus station. It was awesome and I was very proud of myself for staying calm and looking around myself for options.

Well that is VERY Snake secondary.

I generally take a long time making decisions when it’s not a crisis situation, because I have to *weigh all the options*, but I often end up in analysis paralysis. Crunch time is where I really shine as a decision-maker.

Snake again. From what I’m seeing, your Bird is a fantastic toy, but actually kind of makes you miserable when you have to depend on it for the important stuff. (studying, your job, making important decisions)

All of this long post is to say, I’m not sure whether my Bird secondary is a fun model that got repurposed into an executive dysfunction compensation tool and anxiety/depression soother to supplement my Snake secondary

I think you hit the nail straight on the head right there. 

 or if Bird is my true secondary and Snake is a model that I learned from my dad and brother + characters I admire in media 

oh your favorite characters are Snake secondaries are they? That’s a big tell.

and that I use when I fail to plan adequately given my executive dysfunction. 

Executive dysfunction is a whole thing, but you don’t have to “”plan adequately”” for everything.

I find both fun and both useful, but I’m not sure which is innate and which is the model! 

My money is on snake secondary, Bird secondary model. 

[giggles-and-freckles]

i don't know if any of you are familiar with the concept of 'enneagram types.' if you're not, you can check it out here. lots of fun stuff to click around and read about if you're interested in what this even is. but i've been thinking about it in reference to some of our fave sw pals and have decided to do some character study via enneagram. first up: anakin skywalker in all his angsty glory.

Anakin Skywalker

Eight--The Challenger

Basic fear: of being hurt or controlled by others

Basic desire: to protect themselves and their loved ones

Anakin is an eight. Everything for him comes down to power and control. I believe his childhood as a slave is what really impacts this. He lived his entire childhood under the control of another and wanting to get out. Then, he found that freedom and essentially came under the control of something else (this is not to say that the Jedi Order actually functions as a slaver...but I think Anakin perceives it as that on several occasions). After the fall of the Republic, he becomes a slave to Sidious and the Dark Side. I would argue that the only time Anakin is every truly free is in his death, when he makes the completely independent decision to kill the Emperor. That dialogue between Luke and Ani is really telling, in my opinion.

“I’ll not leave you here. I’ve got to save you.”

“You already have, Luke.”

Because that’s all Anakin ever wants, really. He wants to be saved. And he never quite understands that only he can save himself. This power complex is very aligned with an eight. He so desperately wants control...but so easily falls into bondage over and over again.

Eights commonly have a childhood trauma or Moment that “flips a switch” for them. It takes their innocence once and for all and replaces it with a hardness that wasn’t there before. I think a lot of arguments can be made for this. Perhaps it was some unseen moment offscreen prior to The Phantom Menace. Maybe he watched a fellow slave die. Maybe he watched his mother suffer in some tangible way. Maybe it happened between TPM and Attack of the Clones. But for the sake of this analysis, I’ll use the Tusken Raiders as the Moment. We see it affect him in all the ways one of these “loss of innocence” moments for an eight normally does. It’s a game-changer. In canon, it’s Anakin’s first touch of darkness. In the real world, it’s him dealing with insurmountable pain and suffering. Interestingly, we see that this “loss of innocence” directly counters the basic desire of an Eight, as well. Protecting self and loved ones. He fails to do that. He watches the one he loves the MOST die in his arms. Which--for an eight--is the ultimate form of pain. To lose a loved one feels like personal failure. You LET them die. You LET them suffer You could have SAVED them. But you failed. We see Anakin deal with this onslaught of emotions and then...we see him take action.

Eights are a part of the gut triad. This means before they think with their head or feel with their heart, they act with their gut. Their impulse. I don’t think anyone would dare to make the argument that Anakin leads with his head (sorry buddy...but you are Himbo Certified), but I can see arguments for Heart. My only real counter here is that the two greatly influence each other. And we see him ACT in tandem with his feelings. He doesn’t just sit in his emotions and mope. I’ll continue to use the Tusken incident. Immediately, without any hesitation, he acts on his anger. Anger is not a primary emotion, it’s secondary. I’m not in Anakin Skywalker’s head, but as an eight...I feel like I almost see where he’s coming from, even in his worst moments. Doesn’t mean I agree or that I would partake. But I understand (and it hurts me). I see so much fear for him. Fear that he’s not as strong as he wants to be, fear that he wouldn’t be able to protect other loved ones if something like this happened again, fear that he’s weak when it really matters. Like when the time comes to protecting loved ones. That’s why everything spirals so fast with Padmé. He immediately gets put into that fear mindset. That “weak” feeling of “I can’t do it, I can’t save her…..but I have to.” That conversation between the two of them on Mustafar is evident of this. “Love can’t save you, Padmé. Only my new powers can do that.” Because that’s what it comes down to for Anakin. His worth lies on his ability to save himself and the people he loves. That’s why his perception of love becomes very selfish. He begins to care about the act of salvation more than the person them self.

One of my favourite moments is the classic “this is where the fun begins.” It’s such a silly quick moment but it’s so revealing of Anakin’s character. Eights feel adrenaline like no other number. Their vitality is completely based in their ability to turn their raw energy into something GOOD. For example, doing dangerous dives and spinning (because it really is a good trick) for the sake of the Republic. It gives Anakin a sense of “YES! See how good I am? See how I’m using my aggression and strength for good?” Especially important for someone who has committed atrocities and inspired destruction. To turn around and use that energy and skill for good? That’s invaluable. I think that’s a reason Anakin fails to see the hypocrisy of the Republic.

“What if the democracy we thought we were serving no longer exists, and the Republic has become the very evil we have been fighting to destroy?”

“I don’t believe that. And you’re sounding like a separatist.”

When Padmé merely questions the point of the war he so immediately snaps back and makes it a personal betrayal. He’s so quick to turn down the slight implication that he’s fighting for the wrong side. Eights are all about sides. All about choosing. Anakin can’t begin to consider that maybe his Side isn’t so altruistic. It would crumble at his very core. This is where the Challenger (the moniker of an eight) comes in. They love to challenge the world around them but absolutely cannot handle when someone else is challenging it in contrast to them. Well...an unhealthy eight anyway. Healthy eights see the importance of contrasting beliefs and the power of refining conversations.

Eights want to ‘leave their mark’ on the world.

“I’m not the Jedi I should be. I want more. And I know I shouldn’t.”

This plays into the ‘deadly sin’ of an eight. Lust. This isn’t explicitly sexual (though I guess it can be, at times). It’s more of a desire for MORE. A need for more. It’s all about that power and control. An eight never quite feels satiated...at least not in their unhealthy state. Which Anakin invariably is in. An eight is always seeking things to satisfy them. Through people and power.They’re not concerned with the actual accomplishment, in the societal standard. Before Anakin is granted a seat on the council, we never see him express a desire to even have it. It seems like that’s completely a Palpatine thing. I can’t help but put myself in Obi-Wan’s shoes there. Seeing Anakin’s overreaction and wondering where it’s coming from. Because Anakin has never seemed like he wants to be on the council. Quite the opposite in fact. His tantrum about being denied the rank of master is really evident of the stake Palpatine has already dug into Anakin’s mind. Ann eight’s desire is personal. They don’t care if they have the top title or the most power from the POV of the world. They worry about their own standards. Which is difficult because we never quite manage to meet our own standards and end up in a lot of disappointment. Anakin holds himself to a hard standard. Obi-Wan, Padmé, and Ahsoka all seem to recognise that in him.

“But be patient, Anakin. It won’t be long before the COuncil makes you a Jedi Master.”

“To be angry is to be human.”

“Maybe, but I have to sort this out on my own. Without the Council and without you.”

These encouragements are so unique because they ground Anakin in a very human way. They hit at his insecurities and remind him it’s okay. He doesn’t have to be all-powerful or perfect. Which they know he needs to hear because he can’t quite recognise these truths on his own. He needs the emotional coddling. Unfortunately, in these moments their words aren’t enough. Each of these conversations is characterised by impending sadness.

Eights are seen as the bravest people. I think this aligns well with what we know of Anakin. He has little to no hesitation when putting his life on the line. He volunteers for the most dangerous missions. Doesn’t bat an eye at horrific scenes. He’s willing to do the hardest and scariest things. He’s brave. He’s determined. When talking about Ahsoka, he says “no one has her kind of determination” to which Plo Koon immediately responds, “Except for you.” But this is such an interesting part of an eight to me because I believe eights are actually the most fearful of any number. Because what they fear is fear itself. They are so horrified at the prospect of being afraid it becomes almost dangerous. They will do whatever they can to mask that fear. Which is what puts a lot of eights into that anger reactionary position. A sort of ‘people can’t know I’m scared if I’m the one scaring others’ sort of mentality. The bravado, the courage–it’s all a facade to hide the fear that eights very uniquely do not feel qualified to experience on even the micro-level. It leads many eights to become dictatorial in the way they love others (which isn’t really love at all in the end). Pushes eights to commit atrocities in word or deed all for what they consider to be the ‘greater good.’ They push and prod at the lines a normal person knows not to cross. Not only do they cross them–they plow through them, hoping that it causes enough of a scene to distract from the fact that they’re just like everyone else. In fact, they’re even more vulnerable because no one has taught them how to exist in a state of need. No one has showed them how to ask for and accept help. Instead, they bottle it all up over long periods of times, releasing small bits in dramatic bursts of energy...until that line is crossed and all bets are off.

The goal of a healthy eight is to find a way to channel the aggression and drive into being the ultimate helper and advocate. Unfortunately, Anakin doesn’t get to this until the very end of his life. His fears guide him down a path of darkness. And we see him mask that fear with anger and hatred over and over again. That’s the way of the Dark Side so it’s no wonder it was so appealing to someone who had already been doing that without proper teachings. Anakin Skywalker had the potential to be one of the greatest forces for good in the galaxy. And for a split second at the end of his life, we see him do just that. It’s all the moments before, though; when he chose fear and anger and lust over and over again. Shoving strength and bravery into the vacancies of emotional competency. Until it all became too much.

[desdemonafictional]

Okay I have another little chunk of cleaned up RP from yesteryear. Like the last one, I filled in all the Hisoka stuff after the fact.

This is some self indulgent fantasy guro

---

In the middle of reaching down to the floor, where his pack of playing cards lay in a whimsical heap, Hisoka froze. It was so unlike him to pause that way, stock still in the middle of a graceful sweep--all his movements were graceful, after all, and Gon had taken it for granted until that very moment, watching the ungainly stumble as Hisoka righted himself on suddenly unsteady heels. The cards lay on the ground where they fell, untouched.

Gon would never have thought to look for signs of weakness in Hisoka's bearing, but now that he had tipped his hand they were all Gon could see. He took a step forward, hand lifted, wanting to touch the core that Hisoka's every flicker of tension seemed to curl in over. He stopped short just in time to remember his manners.

"May I?" he said, looking up towards the older hunter's face.

The miasma of Hisoka's ren, as it burst over him, felt as viscous and dark as the first time he had felt its touch, in the Heaven's Arena, without the understanding or the means to counter it. Gon guessed it was kind of like that again. Nen still existed in his body, he'd been assured, but he couldn't seem to access it. Without the ability to pull a cloak of ten around himself, it was almost as if thousands of horrible fingers were dragging at their nails over his skin, pulling and tearing at him.

He let out a steadying breath. The feeling was awful, but at least knowing where it came from was made it easier to endure. And he sure wasn't going to let Hisoka intimidate him, no matter how hard the push was.

Hisoka fixed him with that malevolent feline gaze. "Go on then. If you like," he said. "You may yet live to regret it."

His undershirt was black, a tight stretchy weave underneath one of his billowy crop tops. His body twitched as Gon drew near, but he didn't retreat, or take back his lukewarm consent.

Gon gently took hold of the undershirt's hem, the small knuckles of his fingers brushing against unnaturally chilled skin, and drew it upward.

Underneath there was nothing but a hollowed cavern, like the mechanical core of a toy solider, with the ragged remains of vital pieces hung suspended there. The remaining flesh gave uneasy little twitches, as if his body was desperately trying to carry on its natural function without support. Gon had never seen anything like it. It was terrible, and yet it was oddly neat. It was a horror almost too fantastic to be real. Too bloodless. Too whimsical.

"This is really impressive," he said, as he let go of the hem with one hand. He ran the pad of a finger over the edge of flesh instead, where the great bite had been taken out of Hisoka. He had an urge to touch more, to take the delicate bits of guts in his hand and feel them pulsing in his fingers, but it seemed like it would probably hurt and he didn't want that.

He just wanted... he just wanted...

Hisoka shivered when Gon’s warm finger traced along the gaping ruined flesh.

"It does take some little skill," Hisoka admitted. He was probably going for modesty, but his voice was oddly hoarse.

Gon started to pull away, realizing that he'd probably overstayed his welcome, and that wasn't polite. But as he retreated, the invisible web of Hisoka's nen stuck and pulled at his fingers, as if it didn't want to let him go. The ragged guts gave visible twitches and throbs.

Hisoka moaned a little. His breathing increased, just the slightest bit. He took hold of Gon’s fingers in his own, cool pale digits wrapped around warm dark ones. He started guiding Gon back toward him.

“Go ahead.” As if he could barely contain his excitement, as if it strung through him like a tensed piano wire, driving his heart faster and faster, almost audible in Gon's ears. “Do it...”

Gon stiffened in Hisoka's grip.

A spike of adrenaline lanced his chest. That low noise, which was as familiar as it was worrying in Hisoka's throat, had stirred something in Gon's stomach that even the ren hadn't managed, as lethally dangerous as that had been. The ren had hurt, and it had been a threat against his body in a real way, but it hadn't touched anything inside of him. Not the way Hisoka's soft moans did.

He could pull away. He thought he could pull away. And even if Hisoka wouldn't let him go, he could at least try. But he still wanted to touch--he still wanted--

If anything, the thrill of fear that raced up the back of his neck only sharpened the desire.

It occurred to him that for all that they had been opponents and allies again and again since the day of their first meeting, Hisoka's hand around his now might have been the first time the magician had ever willingly touched him without violence. It was that thought more than anything that made Gon relax into his grip.

Under Hisoka's guidance, Gon slipped his fingers between the ruined flesh. He cupped a length of pale organ, oddly hot compared to Hisoka's chilled fingers. It fluttered under his touch, like a captive butterfly, as he stroked a thumb over it.

Hisoka’s mouth fell open and his forehead tensed, hand loosening around Gon’s, letting him take the lead. “Yes...” he panted, “oh...” The center of his throat had sort of contracted, which made his voice deeper, and his breathing became increasingly labored.

There was no flinch of pain when Gon cupped his insides, thumb stroking a length of skin that should never have been bared to the open air, let alone touched. He marveled at what Hisoka was letting him do. It was gentle, but so invasive. Above him, Hisoka’s shoulders shook. The Nen surrounding his organs and holding them in place may have protected him, but Gon’s blunt fingers were invading that, sliding over it.

“A-ah!” His hand slid off of Gon’s fingers and gripped forearm. He stared down at Gon’s hand inside him, open-mouthed, and shuddered.

"You're so warm here," Gon murmured, not thinking much about it. "Your insides are so soft..."

His sharp nails dug into Gon's skin, drawing blood just below the elbow. Gon paused, looked up--caught sight of Hisoka's throat working, swallowing over and over again, as if he was caught and trying to get free.

“You know, Gon,” he said, at last, “it would be terribly intimate to die with you fondling my most secret areas, but the clock’s ticking, and you haven’t said a word about whether or not you’ll help me. Might we discuss that?”

"Oh!" Gon said. He could feel the nails in his forearm threatening to break skin. He guessed this must be a pretty time sensitive injury. He glanced up at Hisoka's pink tongue, as it traced that familiar path over his lips. It must be pretty serious if Hisoka was passing up the opportunity to ooze his intensity all over Gon the way he usually did. He'd never known Hisoka to flinch back from anything, intimacy or pain or otherwise.

He pulled back, reluctantly, trying to tamp down his own curiosity.

"Of course I'll help you," he said. "If we want to get you help any time in the near future, we're going to have to travel. I think Killua and his sister are sight-seeing on the north end of the continent."

He put a reassuring hand over the claws Hisoka had been digging into his arm. Hisoka probably didn't need any reassurance, but somehow it felt necessary to convey this sincerity. Everyone had told him that Hisoka lived in a different kind of world than most humans. He wouldn't want Hisoka to think he didn't understand the gravity of the situation.

"Don't worry," he said, "I won't let you die."

Hisoka made a choked noise and then, turning away like a cat caught in a moment of dishevelment, pulled his undershirt back down into its proper place.

[whenisitenoughtrees]

look me up and define me (please remind me) (part 2/2)

He is whatever puts Thomas first. But that changes so often that he doesn’t know what he is beyond that.

He is Janus when he is alone, but only when he is not someone else.

Janus has never minded the fact that his identity is fluid, ever-changing. He acts as whoever Thomas needs him to be in the moment, and if that means he doesn't know much about himself as an individual, well. It's never been a problem for him.

Until he gives away his name, and then it very much is.

Chapter Warnings: identity issues, body dysphoria, body horror, panic attack, self-harm (hair pulling), mild injury

Chapter Word Count: 5,947

Pairings: platonic TDLAMPR, implied Moceit

Notes: This is the second part of a two-part fic, so I’d start with part one if you haven’t read it. Also, this fic as a whole was inspired by the awesome ‘The Record Player Song’ animatic by @turbovickii, which, 10/10 would recommend if you haven’t seen it

(part one)

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

“Do you ever think about the past?” Patton asks him. It’s a gloomy day, rain beating against the mindscape’s windows to mimic the downpour keeping Thomas trapped inside his apartment. On days like these, he has learned, Patton tends toward melancholy reflection, toward sipping wine in the living room rather than attempting to cook or bake.

He has found himself glad of it, most of the time. Even on a good day, Patton is often too distractible to bake without supervision, and on these days, his eyes glaze and his movements slow as he reminisces on days long gone. Frankly, he should not be trusted anywhere near the kitchen, and they both know it.

“Not really,” he lies. “Not unless it suits. Do you?”

He already knows the answer to that, of course. Patton hums noncommittally, eyes flitting to the rain-splattered windowpane. It’s just the two of them right now; the others emerge from their rooms more often now than they did just after the wedding, but still not often enough. Patton is struggling, both with himself and with his relationships, and for that reason alone, he will do his best to support. Even if he doesn’t know quite how. Even if he himself grows more and more adrift with every passing day.

“I wish we’d been friends sooner,” Patton says. “I was pretty mean to you when we were kids.”

He sighs. “I was pretty mean right back,” he says, ignoring the implications of friends, all the meanings contained in that one word. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

Patton smiles at him, and his heart skips a beat. “Still,” he says. “I’m glad we’re friends now, Janus.”

He doesn’t have a response to that. He can’t tell Patton that their friendship is based on a lie, that who he thinks of as Janus is nothing more than a shadow, that in these moments, he is drawing on a Patton-like persona more than anything else. He can’t tell Patton that he thinks about the past far more than he should, simpler times, when he was someone else, young and fresh-eyed and hopeful, not just willing but eager to do anything and everything to help Thomas and the rest of them.

That was when the trouble started. When deception became integral to his being. When he lost himself under all the rest, if there was ever anything to be lost in the first place. Isn’t it ironic, that Thomas’ sense of self-preservation has no sense of self of his own?

I’m glad we’re friends now, Janus.

He would be, too, if Janus were real. But Janus isn’t real, and he doesn’t know how to make him so.

So, he doesn’t respond to Patton. Just smiles, smiles and smiles and smiles and hopes that he can’t see through the facade. It’s something Patton himself would do, he thinks, and pretends that the thought doesn’t make him sick.

And so the days pass. Life continues. Nothing is solved. He grows closer with the others, more welcome in their discussions, more appreciated by Thomas, even, and he would be ecstatic if it weren’t for the fact that interacting with them is like pulling teeth. They all look at him in a certain way, now, like they understand him, or want to, and it is all he can do to prevent himself from shouting at them, from telling them that they understand nothing. He is a mask built upon another mask built upon more masks, and there is nothing underneath them. Janus is the name given to the void they hide.

How could they possibly understand him when he doesn’t understand himself? When he is slowly beginning to realize that there is nothing to understand at all, that Janus is just a name, and a name means nothing at all if there is not a person behind it, attached in a way that he has never been?

Janus isn’t his name. It isn’t, and it is, but the difference between those is negligible. They all expect him to be Janus, now, but he has never known who that is, has never been anything but an amalgam of the others and of Deceit. How is he supposed to be Janus when he doesn’t--

There is a hand on his arm.

He jerks away, blinking. Virgil is standing close to him, too close, hand outstretched, but rather than his typical snarl, his face is neutral, nothing but a crease between his brows betraying his discomfort.

“You back?” he drawls, but the words are nowhere near as biting as they usually are.

He blinks again, looking around the room. Thomas’ living room. The others are all present, all but Remus, and all of their eyes are on him. They are discussing Thomas’ next creative venture, if he remembers correctly, going over potential ideas and plans, and for some reason, they wanted his input as well. He’s not sure why; they’ve gone through this perfectly well without him in the past, and once the meeting starts, he barely has anything to say. Which allows his mind to wander.

A mistake.

He steps away from Virgil, hoping that the movement comes off as casual, and brushes a bit of imaginary lint from his sleeve. “Apologies,” he says. “Lost in thought. What was the question?”

He ignores the way Virgil’s eyes narrow.

“Uh,” Thomas says, oddly hesitant. “Are you sure about that? We’ve been trying to get your attention for a few minutes now. Are you okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” he says. “A bit tired, perhaps.” Not a lie. He’s exhausted. It’s hardly the whole truth, and something in him burns to be showing any amount of weakness at all, any vulnerability, but better this than sharing any of the rest.

“Oh,” Thomas says. “Well, I just--”

“Falsehood.”

The word is quiet, but it cuts through the conversation like a hot knife through bread. Because for all that the word is Logan’s trademark phrase, it is not Logan who speaks, but Virgil. Virgil, who is still standing too near, hunched in on himself, his face set in an expression he can’t begin to interpret.

For a long moment, there is silence.

“That’s my word,” Logan says. It seems a halfhearted complaint.

“Wait, I’m confused,” Roman says. “Where’s the falsehood?”

“I’ll admit, I’m confused as well,” he says, though he’s not, though his heart is beating far too quickly, though he knows exactly what Virgil means, and both fear and betrayal swirl in his chest and stiffen his spine. His nerves rise to a crescendo, and he has to focus on his breathing to make sure his form doesn’t slip. He must remember how they view him now, how they look at him and think Janus, must remember to maintain Deceit’s face, though the anxiety flooding his senses urges him to exchange the yellow for purple, the scales for eyeshadow, because that’s what he’s always done when he feels this way, when his chest feels tight and his breaths come too short. This is a Virgil-feeling, but he can’t shift right now because he’s supposed to be Deceit, is supposed to be Janus, and if he changes now, the house of cards on which he’s built his acceptance crumbles.

He can’t let that happen. He feels terrible now, but the isolation of before was worse. Now that he’s admitted as much to himself, he wouldn’t be able to bear going back.

“Now, now,” Patton says, “let’s let Virgil speak.”

“Yeah,” Thomas says, brow furrowed. “Virgil, what do you mean?”

Virgil rolls his eyes. “Let him explain,” he says, jerking a thumb in his direction. “He’s the one lying.”

And just like that, all eyes return to him. He wonders, idly, if he could get away with summoning Remus, if he could throw a bit of chaos into the mix and watch them all scramble. They’d forget about him in the wake of that, he’s sure. But no, he can’t do it now, not when it would be so obvious. His strengths lie in his subtlety, his skill at misdirection. Remus is a blunt instrument, one not suited for this task.

He raises his hands, claps sarcastically. “Well done, Virgil,” he says. “I’m so impressed by your ability to remember my basic function. Good job. Can we refocus the conversation now?”

The sarcasm helps him focus. Helps him settle into the persona, into who he’s supposed to function as in this moment. He can lie his way out of this. He’s done it before. He can do it again.

“Okay, usually I’m all for calling him out,” Roman says, “but he’s said, like, two things this whole time.”

“Yes,” Logan adds, “and one of those was-- oh. I see.”

“What?” Thomas asks.

Patton gasps. “Oh,” he says. “Oh, no.” Patton looks at him, then, so much warmth and empathy in his gaze that he wants to die, just a little bit, because he doesn’t deserve any of it, doesn’t deserve his friendship, because the person that Patton thinks he is getting to know has never existed in the first place. “If something’s the matter, you can tell us! You know that, right?”

“Nothing’s the matter,” he grits out, but no one listens. He takes a moment to glare at Virgil, who stares back, nonplussed.

“Oh, hey,” Thomas says, looking surprised. Like he never considered the idea that something could be wrong with him. He would have liked to keep it that way, but it might be too late for that now. “Yeah, if something’s the matter, we want to hear about it. You don’t need to lie about that, Janus.”

And Thomas is so genuine in his concern, so compassionate, so kind to a side that he used to hate and fear. But it’s the name that sends him over the edge, the name that makes him flinch, hard, because he can’t escape it, can’t escape the fact that they all expect him to be something that he has never been, that he can never be.

He is whatever Thomas needs, but Thomas has never needed Janus, and he doesn’t know how to be something that Thomas doesn’t need. How to be a person in his own right, how to be the person they believe he is.

Thomas sees him flinch, because of course he does, because it was obvious. He steps forward, worry written plain on his face, but he mirrors the motion, stepping back. Thomas stops.

“Is there anything I can--”

“He doesn’t like it when you say his name,” Virgil says, and the room goes still. Virgil swallows, clearly not comfortable with the attention, but he soldiers on. “He didn’t tell me why.”

“Shut up,” he bites out, before he can stop himself.

“Is that true?” Thomas asks, asks him, all wide-eyed and hurt and he can’t take this--

“That doesn’t seem to make sense,” Logan says, and yes, please, keep talking, Logan, everyone pay attention to Logan now, thank you, “considering that he told us his name himself. Though, to be fair, the way in which he did so could be construed as an attempt to gain trust, rather than because he actually wanted to share.”

“Oh, come on,” Roman snorts. “Nobody was forcing him to say anything.”

“Oh my god, Roman, that’s not helping,” Virgil says. Defending him? That makes no sense, but alright.

“I’m just saying! He took his glove off all on his own--”

“That doesn’t mean Logan is wrong,” Patton ventures.

They just keep talking, all their voices overlapping and intermingling, talking about him, arguing about him like he’s not right here, and he backs up until he hits the wall. He needs them to stop, needs this to stop, needs to spend another week or two alone in his room before he can even think to face them again. He threads his fingers through his hair, pulling hard, but the pain does nothing to help him focus. He wishes he could cover his ears, wishes he didn’t have to hear this, wishes that today hadn’t happened at all. Wishes he could come up with an excuse, a lie to throw them off and redirect their attention, but his mind is frighteningly blank.

“Guys, enough.” Thomas’ voice silences the room, and then, Thomas turns to him. “Janus?” he prompts softly. “Are you okay?” And he means well, he does, but--

He can’t do this. Can’t do this at all, can’t think of a single lie to tell, and nothing else is helping either. He can’t think logically, and his rolling emotions are no help, and trying to summon bravado is a failure, and he is already so scared that he doesn’t see how indulging in any more anxiety could possibly help matters.

He needs--

He needs something else, anything else, anything but this, and--

He shifts before he can stop himself. And once he starts, he can’t hold back, can’t stop seeking comfort in another form because that’s what he always does when his own doesn’t cut it. He cycles through all of them, melting and changing and remaking himself with every second that passes, but nothing helps, nothing abates the buzzing under his skin or the ringing in his ears. But he keeps doing it anyway, because he doesn’t know what else to do.

And the damage is done. His eyes are screwed shut, but there’s no way they’re not all staring at him. The silence is deafening.

He stands there, trying to land on an identity, and finds nothing. Because there is nothing.

“Ja… Deceit?” someone says, and it’s Patton’s voice, trembling and unsure, and somehow, that is the breaking point.

He opens his eyes, meets Thomas’ shocked gaze. And then he sinks out.

He rises up in his room unsteadily, lurching. He almost falls, though he catches himself against a bedpost, panting. His form is still shifting, still fluid; he can feel the changes rippling across his face like rushing water, so continuous that it’s beginning to hurt. He stumbles over to the mirror and watches it, the parade of outfits and hair styles and eye colors, morphing and twisting his face into nothing he recognizes.

And then suddenly, he settles. On scaly skin, on one yellow, slit eye. On a bowler hat, on a capelet, on yellow gloves. It’s his default setting. The serpentine tempter.

He looks, and who he sees staring back at him is utterly alien. The image moves when he does, blinks when he blinks, and the same tears that he feels streaming down his cheeks are reflected there. It’s him, he knows, because it couldn’t be anyone else. But he feels so disconnected from it, feels like he’s looking at a stranger, and perhaps he is. Does he know himself? Does he have a self to know?

He stares, and the image in the mirror stares back. And then, he rears back and punches the glass.

The sound it makes when it shatters is the most satisfying thing he’s heard in a long time.

He stands there, gasping, heedless of the shards embedded in his hand. For a moment, he feels safe, feels secure, as if the enemy has been defeated, as if in shattering the image, he has shattered himself, too, and is finally free. But then, he feels himself shift, feels his body do it entirely without his permission, as if on instinct, and catches a glimpse when he can’t help but look down, a glimpse of capelet sliding into hoodie sliding into green sash into red sash into cardigan into hoodie--

His legs give out, and he lands hard. Glass digs into his hands and knees, but he can’t bring himself to move, can’t bring himself to do anything but shake and struggle for breath and hope that this will end.

He doesn’t know who he is, doesn’t know who he’s supposed to be. If he could figure it out, maybe this would stop, but he can’t think straight, can’t think about much of anything at all past the fact that it hurts, and that he’s scared, and that he feels as though his very bones are trying to burst out of his skin. It’s coming so fast now that he can barely keep track; he is Virgil, then Patton, then Roman, then Patton, then Logan then Remus then Roman then Virgil then PattonthenLoganthenRemusthen--

The door bursts open. Someone enters, black and green, and he can’t focus on their face, can’t do anything but flinch back as their footsteps approach, huddle in on himself and pray that they won’t hurt him, that they won’t exacerbate the pain.

“--ee? Dee?” The voice filters in, and it’s Remus, loud and shrill and concerned, and he wishes he had the strength to comfort him, to reassure him, but he thinks that if he opens his mouth, he’ll scream. He feels like his skin is sliding off, like it’s cracking open, and he has no way to anchor himself, no port in this storm, no control over what’s happening to him, and he’s so scared.

“--ell me what to do, what’s happening--” Remus is saying, and then there are hands on him, on his face, and he jerks away because the touch burns. Remus is still babbling: “--kay, won’t touch you, but Dee, please, you gotta tell me what to do--”

--then his room is suddenly full of people, people standing, watching, talking, saying words he can’t understand, moving toward him, and he flinches back and away, because he doesn’t want them here, doesn’t want them to see him like this, doesn’t want them near him because no doubt they’ll only make it worse and he can’t breathe and he can’t stop shifting because it’s supposed to help but it’s not, it’s hurting him, and he thinks he hears Remus shouting at them, telling them to get back, to go away, but he can’t--

Then, someone presses their hand into his, and tells him to breathe. The rest of the world dissolves into static.

It takes a long time for him to be able to follow their example, but he focuses on the point of contact, on their hand holding his, and part of him wants to jerk away as though he’s been scalded. But the touch is through his gloves, fabric separating their skin, and somehow, that makes it bearable. And the other part of his mind wants to hold on and never let go, so that’s what he does.

His breathing slows. The shifting stops, and the pain subsides into a dull ache.

He looks up, and Virgil is crouched in front of him, the rise and fall of his chest outlining a familiar pattern.

“Can you hear me?” Virgil asks, his voice quiet and the closest thing to calm he ever gets.

He nods.

Someone lets out a breath, a sigh of relief, and he looks around. They’re all here, all of them, crouching around him. Remus is closest, is right by his side, hands hovering but not touching. Patton and Logan are sitting to either side of Virgil, Logan with furrowed brow and Patton looking near tears himself. Even Roman is here, hovering over Logan’s shoulder, and though he’s keeping his distance, worry mars his face. He knows, knows he must look absolutely pitiful if Roman is worried about him.

And Thomas is here, too. Kneeling at his other side, kneeling in broken glass from the mirror, and all for him? After that wretched display, Thomas still came after him?

Thomas is looking at him. His eyes are shiny.

“Sorry,” he rasps, and then frowns. His voice is lower, rougher than he anticipated, and glancing at himself, it is easy to determine the reason. His hands are gloved, but purple-patched sleeves cover his arms. He’s Virgil right now, Virgil, even though the real Virgil is sitting right in front of him, is still, for whatever reason, holding his hand.

“Hey,” Virgil-- the real Virgil-- says, “don’t do that. C’mon.”

He pulls his hand away, trying to school his face into a glare, into any expression that would suit Virgil’s face better. He’s sure he looks miserable. His mind races, supplying him with biting words and insults, and it makes him angry, a bit, because where was this when he needed it? It’s too late, now, too late to pretend that this never happened. They’re all here, in his room, his safe place, his sanctuary.

Only, it hasn’t been that for a long time, has it? How long has it been since he was comfortable here? Since he was comfortable anywhere?

The realization makes him shudder, and before he knows it, he is sliding into Patton’s form instead. The grey cardigan settles around his shoulders, but it brings none of the comfort that it usually does. He just feels pathetic, and he knows the others must see it.

He can’t look at Patton. Doesn’t want to know what he’s thinking. Doesn’t think he could bear to see rejection painted there.

His breath hitches.

“Hey,” Thomas says, and he can’t help but turn to look, because he has never been able to help but do what Thomas asks of him. He turns to look, and through vision that is once again blurry with tears, he sees Thomas reach out. Slowly, accentuating the motion so that he has plenty of time to reject him, to pull away. He is tempted to smack the hand away, to gather up the strength to eject them all from his room and lock the door behind them, anything to avoid having to talk about this.

But this is Thomas, so he allows him to place a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“You’re okay,” Thomas says softly. “Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay too, but we’re here for you.”

It’s not a lie. He knows because it chimes in the air, clear and bright and true, like a clamoring of bells ringing in the morning. No tricks, no subterfuge, just the one person he would do anything for, telling him that it’s going to be alright, that everything is going to be alright.

He forces himself to shift again, forces the scales back across his face, focuses on maintaining the gloves to cover hands that are cut and bleeding and embedded with glass shards. It itches, itches and burns and doesn’t feel right at all, but if he’s going to do this, he could at least try not to look like any of them while he speaks.

“No,” he says, and jolts at the sound of his own voice, strange and foreign. “You deserve an explanation.”

“Maybe,” Virgil says suddenly, “but that doesn’t mean you owe it to us.”

He swivels his head to stare at him, and Virgil scowls, glancing away.

“Look,” he says, “I wasn’t… I wasn’t trying to hurt you, back there. It’s just, you’ve been weird and spacey ever since you came to talk to me, and I just thought that if something was wrong, and I didn’t know what to do, then maybe somebody else would. But I’m sorry for going about it like I did.”

“I--” His tongue feels clumsy, thick in his mouth. An apology from Virgil is not something he ever thought he would receive, but this, too, hangs between them like a breath of fresh air, nothing but truth in his words. “Apology accepted,” he says, and it feels lacking compared to all that still lies unvoiced between them, but Virgil visibly untenses.

“Cool,” he mutters. “Don’t read too much into it.”

Despite himself, he smiles, just a bit, an upwards twitch of his lips.

And then, Logan clears his throat. “I don’t want to put any undue pressure on you,” he says, “but if you would be willing to discuss what ails you, I am in complete agreement with Thomas. Perhaps we can help you find a solution.”

He takes a breath to steady himself, taking a brief survey of the room, watching all of them gathered around him, attentive and unsure. He… could tell them, he realizes. He could tell them, and they would listen, and they might even believe him. He could tell them, and there is nothing stopping him from doing so but himself, old habits that have been ingrained in him over years and decades, habits that insist that he cannot afford to be vulnerable, that he cannot afford to show weakness, that the moment he bares his throat to them, they will pounce.

But looking at them, at Patton, so determined to help, at Logan, face open and non-judgemental, and even at Roman, who has the least reason out of all of them to want to see him well and yet is here anyway, he wonders if that is the case at all.

Thomas’ hand is still on one shoulder, a steadying point of contact. Without looking, he reaches back and finds one of Remus’ hands, still hovering, and guides it to rest on his other. Remus makes a sound of relief and tightens his grip, and it is almost uncomfortable, but it also serves as a reminder that he is not alone, for once, and that perhaps, he can have help, if he asks for it.

Does he dare do this? It will hurt him, and it will hurt them. Will likely hurt Thomas.

But, he realizes, it’s too late to prevent that. Thomas is already hurt, is already lost and confused and worried. The least he can do is tell him why.

So, he looks to Patton. If he’s going to share this, if he truly wants them to understand, he needs to start at the beginning.

“Do you remember what I used to call myself?” he asks. “When Thomas was young, I mean, before I was labeled Deceit. Back when you were Feelings and Logan was Learning.”

“I--” Patton’s face screws up in an obvious effort to remember. “That was so long ago, I don’t--” He pauses, mouth working silently, and then, his eyes open wide. “You know, I’d forgotten that we used to call you something else,” he says. He doesn’t sound happy about it. “Weren’t you Self?”

He nods. “Self,” he repeats. It’s been so long since he said the name aloud. It’s like an old favorite shoe, well-worn but now half a dozen sizes too small. “That’s right. Back then, I was entirely about self-preservation. Anything that boosted Thomas’ sense of self, I was in charge of.” He closes his eyes, slipping back into the memories. “Deception didn’t become a major part of that until later, until there were… issues. Until Thomas began to doubt himself more, experience more internal conflict.” He opens his eyes again, meeting Patton’s once more. “Then, I did anything I could to keep things running smoothly. I was… whoever I needed to be, whenever I needed to be them, as long as it would benefit Thomas. You usually didn’t catch me.” He splays his hands, relishing the sting of his bloodied knuckles. “I’m like glue, filling in the cracks.”

“You impersonated us that much?” Virgil asks, voice strangled.

He shrugs. “For all intents and purposes, I was you,” he says quietly. “I got used to it after a while. Too used to it, I suppose.”

“What do you mean by that?”

It’s Thomas who speaks now, low and urgent and worried, and he turns to him, turns to the man he has given everything to protect.

“As best I can tell,” he says, and he is not trying to be bitter, but something of the kind leaks through anyway, “I’m a… a mimic, of a sort. Or maybe just a mirror. I’ve spent so long being whatever was needed that I never developed into anything else, and then I told you my name and you started calling me Janus, and I-- I couldn’t handle it. I can’t.” He shudders, closing his eyes. He can’t bear to meet Thomas’ gaze anymore, can’t bear to see the condemnation he knows must surely come now. “I can’t meet those expectations. At best, I’m… a fake. A sham. Janus… it’s my name, but there’s not a person attached to it. Everything I am is built on traits I’ve taken from everyone else.” He shakes his head, a sour smile curling his lips. “Take away the lies, and there’s nothing left of me.”

“That’s why you don’t like us using the name,” Thomas says. “You don’t feel like it’s yours.”

“Nothing that I am is mine,” he answers, and falls silent, waiting for the sentence to fall, the gavel to pound.

For a moment, no one says anything at all.

“That’s not true,” Patton says, and the fierceness in his voice takes him aback. His eyes snap open.

“Patton--”

But Patton shakes his head, his face flushing pink. “No, you let me talk,” he says. “That’s not true, and I’m so sorry that we’ve let you feel like it is. I should’ve--” He breaks himself off, biting his lip. “No, that’s not the point. The point is that you’re not just a mimic, or a mirror, or what have you, and you should never, ever have been made to feel like you had to be.”

He didn’t expect this, didn’t expect a passionate defense. He’s not sure where this is coming from, not sure what he did to provoke this.

“I--”

“I mean, we’ve been spending time together, right?” Patton continues. “And you’ve been enjoying that, unless you were faking, but I don’t think you were. Do you really think that you were only having fun because it was something you’d done when you were being me?”

His throat runs dry. His first instinct is to say, yes, of course, because he’s spent so long thinking this way. But instead of his usual conviction, his mind fills with a buzzing noise, and he can’t bring himself to speak.

“I agree with Patton,” Logan speaks up. “True, there may be some activities that you initially took interest in for the purpose of impersonating one of us. However, that does not make your own enjoyment of those activities any less valid, or any less a part of who you are. You, specifically, not you when you are attempting to emulate one of us. Unless you don’t actually enjoy our chess matches.”

But--

“Yeah, and you don’t have to actually be one of us in order to feel something that one of us feels, or do something that one of us does,” Virgil says. “Just because Logan is Logic doesn’t mean that you have to be Logan in order to be logical. I mean, can you imagine if Logan were the only one capable of basic logical reasoning? You dumbass,” he tacks on.

That, at least, is enough to prompt an answer out of him. “It’s a habit,” he says weakly. His head is spinning. He doesn’t know what else to do, what else to say. How can they be saying these things so easily? How can they so casually uproot the foundations that his existence is built upon?

“You are worthy of personhood in your own right,” Roman adds, quietly. “I… I know that we have had our arguments. But you are our equal, just as deserving of an individual identity. There is nothing you need do to earn that.”

“You’re my best fucking friend,” Remus says suddenly, his grasp on his shoulder tightening. “You are. Not you trying to be someone else. I like you. I’ll kill anyone who says different.”

He feels a pang at that, because that’s just it. Remus thinks he’s his friend, thinks he likes him for who he is, but how can he, when even he doesn’t know who he is himself?

“I know it hurts to not know what you’re doing,” Patton says softly, “or even who you are, or who you’re supposed to be. But you’ve got us.”

“I don’t know who I am when I’m not trying to be someone else,” he says, the admission ripped from him almost unwillingly. “I don’t know who Janus is.” The tears well up again, and he lets them fall.

Patton is so kind. They are all being so kind, even Virgil, who hates him, even Roman, who he has wronged. What has he done to deserve this kindness?

“I think,” Thomas says haltingly, “that I’m gonna hug you now, if that’s okay.”

And he startles, remembering again that Thomas is here, too, even though he’s been quiet. Though he hasn’t been quiet, exactly, has he? They are all part of him, after all; they all make up his thoughts and feelings and hopes and dreams, so in a way, Thomas doesn’t need to be vocal himself to make his opinions known.

The realization hits, then, as Thomas wraps his arms around him, that Thomas cares about him. And not just Thomas, but the rest of them, too, piling around him, Remus clinging to his back and Patton tucking himself into his side and Virgil laying a hand on his arm. They are here for him, came after him, and for the first time, he considers the idea that their regard might not be contingent on the presentation of a certain identity.

The concept is foreign to him. He has spent so long being whatever he thought they needed, thought they wanted, and that was what led him here, attached to a name with nothing behind it. He has spent so long pretending to be strong, to be cool, to be collected. There has never been time not to be, never been time to make himself vulnerable, to allow himself to discover who Janus might be, if given the chance.

He shudders, burying his face in Thomas’ shoulder.

“It’s okay not to know,” Thomas says, and the love and acceptance in his voice is so real and so true that he begins to cry harder. “You don’t need to know right now. But we can help you figure it out, alright? We’ll do this together.” His voice softens. “You’re not on your own.”

He doesn’t know who he is. Doesn’t know where to begin to find out. But that much, perhaps, he can believe.

“Okay,” he whispers, and just this once, lets himself trust.

----------

Patton is at the oven, cursing under his breath, trivial words like “shucks” and “darn” and once in a while, a particularly vehement, “Damn!” The kitchen fills with smoke and the scent of burning cookies.

He hangs in the doorway for a while before making his presence known.

“Not having any trouble at all, I see,” he says, and Patton jerks, spinning around. His face lights up upon seeing him, and he hopes the warmth in his cheeks isn’t visible.

“Hi,” Patton says, and laughs ruefully. “What, you don’t think I’m smoking hot?”

He has to bite back his instinctual response, which is just as well, because Patton continues before he can think of anything appropriate.

“I’ve still got enough dough for another try, if you wanna help,” Patton says cheerfully. “Um, is Janus okay right now or no?”

He considers. It still doesn’t fit quite right, doesn’t settle on his shoulders. But he thinks he can do this without falling into the mindset that he has to be somebody else, that he has to wrap another identity around himself. He can do this maskless, and if he finds himself faltering, Patton will help him.

He can do this. And it’s not perfect, but perhaps, here’s a start.

“Janus is fine,” he says, and steps into the kitchen.

Writing Taglist:  @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina @psodtqueer @mrbubbajones @snek-boii

Part 2 Taglist: @bunny222

[fleetingfigures]

Mitigation made Manifest - A Scholar Analysis

Hello everyone, and welcome to the first part of my analysis series! Today we're going to be taking a look at the titular Scholar job, as well as delve into how it works, what it excels at, what it comes short on, and how well it is designed!

In an effort to keep everything organized, I'll section off this post into 4 main portions. If you're on a computer, you can use ctrl+f (or command+f if you're on a mac) to search for the following headings:

[ Basics ] [ How Scholar Works ] [ Gameplay, Tips and Design ] [ Final Evaluation ]

With that out of the way, let us begin!

[ Basics ]

Before we dive into Scholar, I believe I must go over a few things, the first being the issue of Scholar’s origin. Scholar, and by extension, its sibling, Summoner, have a unique system wherein they originate from the same base class, Arcanist, and also share each others’ levels (i.e if you level Summoner to 71, your Scholar will also be 71). As per most jobs, many of the base class’ actions translate to its advanced jobs, but the issue comes in its respective role - Arcanist is a magical dps. For Summoner, this is a fine transition as they share this role, but for Scholar, it is a tad awkward. At no point in your time as an arcanist are you ever really taught how healing in FFXIV functions, nor is it ever your ‘job’. The only real healer you can even start the game with is Conjurer, and beyond that, if you want to pick up a healer on the side without a level skip, only Astrologian and Conjurer are healers right out of the gate. As such, It’s hard to recommend Scholar as someone’s first healer as its levelling experience does not translate to how healers are played effectively.

Though, on this topic of effective healer play, I also feel the need to describe XIV’s healing design. At its core, a healer’s job is to obviously keep the party, and most importantly their tank, from dying. But, this is where some issues arise. In higher-end content, a healer is expected to also carry their weight in terms of DPS, and should have comparable RDPS (Damage taking into account buffs/debuffs applied) to that of a party’s tanks. This brings me to the focus of XIV’s healer philosophy: One is to balance the healing they must do with the damage they output. Spending all of your MP on healing is forsaking your duty to at least deal some damage, and only doing damage will obviously cause your party to die. Healing is essentially a game of ‘how low can I go?’, and as you gain more experience and comfort in the role, you can push that threshold lower and lower.

As for more general terms to be aware of, I shall make a small list!

DPS/ADPS/RDPS: Damage per second/Actual damage per second/Raid-contributing damage per second. These are terms used mostly by raiders to quantify how much damage is contributed. For classes that have buffs and debuffs, their DPS/ADPS do not accurately show their true damage, but their RDPS takes into account the bonus damage their buffs and debuffs have granted. Slidecasting: A term describing the leniency that cast times are given in this game because of server connection. For all spells, you do not have to be sitting through their entire cast bar, as they can instead be cut short so that one can still move while in the last bit of their cast. When one can slidecast a spell is dependent upon the cast time of the spell and the spell speed of the individual. HoT/DoT: Heal over time, Damage over time. GCD/OGCD: Global Cooldown/Off-Global Cooldown. Spells and weaponskills operate off of something called a ‘GCD’. A GCD is essentially a lockout until you can cast your next spell/weaponskill. For spells, as they have a cast time equivalent to their GCD, you can cast another right after you finish the first. By default, this GCD is 2.5 seconds for every class, and is reduced by abilities and skill/spell speed. But for weaponskills/spells that are classified as instant, that GCD lockout can instead be used to move or to use OGCD’s, namely abilities, that aren’t constricted by the GCD. The use of OGCD’s during a GCD lockout is called... Weaving: Using OGCD’s during a GCD lockout. Using just one in this timeframe is referred to as a single weave, and using two is referred to as a double weave. For SCH, you want most weaves to be double weaves. Ghosting: The bane of all arcanist-based classes. Unfortunately due to the AI of pets in this game, there is a delay between when you input an action and when your pet performs it, and a general delay in all pet actions if you are moving and they have to catch up. Sometimes when inputting abilities too quickly or using a demi-summon as actions are queued (like Summon Bahamut, Phoenix Trance and Summon Seraph), the queued action will either be delayed or never go off, but will still go on cooldown. Hence the term ‘ghosting’.

[ How Scholar Works ]

Now with the basics made clear, we can get to the actual meat of this analysis! In FFXIV, there are two denominations of healers: Shielding and Pure. Scholar falls into the prior classification as most of its kit is themed around the prevention of damage. Adloquium and Succor, for example, heal less than White Mage’s Cure II and Medica II, but apply a shield equivalent to 125% of the health restored. As such, Scholar is less of a reactive healer, but more of a proactive one; they set up their resources in advance so that the fight flows with less chaos. Scholar’s base kit is as follows:

Ruin/Broil I, II, and III: Your standard damage spell for a healer. Cast this when you’re not healing. Bio/Bio II/Biolysis: Your standard DoT spell for a healer, ticks 10 times over 30 seconds. Make sure to always have this on the enemy, that is unless the enemy is about to go away, or will die in 15 seconds or less. if this spell sticks to a target for more than 15 seconds, then it technically has outdamaged 1 broil, thus making it a theoretical gain! Physick: The basic heal for a healer; heals for about 400 potency. Once you get to a higher level, you should realistically never touch this heal again. Adloquium (Lvl 30): Scholar’s ‘big single target heal’; heals for 300 potency while erecting a shield equivalent to 125% of the healing done (technically 675 potency in total). Shields generated by this are denoted by the ‘Galvanize’ buff. If this crits, bonus shields will be added as another buff called ‘Catalyze’. This shield does not stack with itself, Succor, Seraphic Veil, or Nocturnal AST’s shields. Succor (Lvl 35): Scholar’s AoE heal; heals for 180 potency and erects a shield equivalent to 125% of the healing done (technically 405 potency in total). Shields generated by this are denoted by the ‘Galvanize’ buff. Like Adlo, it does not stack with what was listed above. Ruin II (Lvl 38): An instant cast version of ruin. It’s potency upgrades as you level, capping at 200 at level 72. This spell is mostly used to weave OGCD’s, or to just generally move while not missing too many casts. Art of War (Lvl 46): Your standard AoE spell for a healer. Deals 160 potency to all enemies in 5 yalms and is instant. Unlike Holy, this spell is a DPS gain on 2 targets or more. Deployment Tactics (Lvl 56): As an OGCD, spreads the target’s Galvanize buff to all nearby allies within 10 yalms. Does not spread Catalyze. Emergency Tactics (Lvl 58): Transforms the shields from Adlo and Succor into a flat heal. Useful in a pinch, hence its name, and gives Scholar a chance at outputting fat heals. Chain Stratagem (Lvl 66): Where Scholar’s RDPS comes from. Applies a debuff to a target that increases the chance they receive critical hits from all allies hitting it by 10% for 15 seconds. Multiple of these cannot be applied to the same boss, and will overlap. Keep in mind its 120 second cooldown as it is crucial to getting better at Scholar! Recitation (Lvl 74): Your next Succor, Adloquium, Excogitation, or Indomitability will always crit. In the case of Succor and Adlo, they will also not cast mana. In the case of Excog and Indom, they will not require an aetherflow stack. Mostly used to cast excog/indom through a double weave, and is immensely useful to make healing easier. 90 second cooldown.

To build off of my last point of resources, it’s high time to introduce two of Scholar’s best friends: Eos and Selene! Eos and Selene, as per SCH’s Arcanist base, are the pets for this job. Unlike carbuncles and egis, they do not deal damage, but instead use their actions to heal, and are crucial to Scholar’s gameplay. Also like the other pets, their action potencies scale differently as opposed to the player’s. For example, Eos/Selene’s Whispering Dawn skill has a listed regen potency of 120, meanwhile WHM’s Medica II regen has a listed potency of 100. One would think that Whispering Dawn would tick for more than Medica II, but through my testing, it is only about 86.8% as effective (due to number variation in FFXIV, this percentage is subject to change). The factor in which pet scaling affects your fairy’s heal is about 64%. With that little disclaimer out of the way, the Faeries’ kits are as follows:

Embrace (Lvl 1): A 150 (96 with pet scaling) potency single-target heal. This is what your fairy will do with its free time. Whispering Dawn (Lvl 20): A 120 potency regen over 21 seconds (537 potency heal in total with pet-scaling). Due to FFXIV’s server ticks, HoT’s and DoT’s hit every 3 seconds, and as such, WD translates to about 840 potency (in terms of your pet’s scaling that is). This ability is activated by the player as an OGCD. Fey Illumination (Lvl 40): A buff that reduces magic damage taken by all allies in range by 5% and increases their healing received by 10%. Lasts 20 seconds. Dissipation (Lvl 60): Munch on your Fairy to gain 3 aetherflow charges and +20% healing magic. This does NOT AFFECT THE POTENCY OF YOUR OGCD HEALING. Your fairy will automatically respawn after the 30 second duration. Aetherpact & Fey Union (Lvl 70): Designate an ally as an OGCD to form a tether between them and your fairy. Your Fairy gauge will then deplete by 10 every 3 seconds to apply a 400 potency (256 potency with pet scaling) heal. This tether will break after the target is 15 yalms away, if you cancel it by using aetherpact again, or if you use another fairy skill. Fey Blessing (Lvl 76): As an OGCD, spend 10 Fairy Gauge to have your Fairy perform an aoe heal of 350 potency (224 potency with pet scaling). Summon Seraph (Lvl 80): As an OGCD, replace your fairy with Seraph. Embrace now becomes Seraphic Veil, a 200 potency (128 potency heal with pet scaling) heal + shield. Consolation (Lvl 80): Essentially Fey Blessing, but only available during Seraph. Heals for 300 potency (192 potency with pet scaling), and shields for the same amount. Has 2 charges per every Seraph summon, and the shield stacks with your own shields as well as a nocturnal Astro’s shields.

Now that those are out of the way, you must be thinking, “The fuck is fairy gauge and aetherflow?” Well, I’m glad you asked, as they’re both intrinsically tied to each other! Starting at level 70, every time you spend an aetherflow stack, you gain 10 fairy gauge, pretty simple, yea? As for aetherflow itself, every 60 seconds you can cast the skill named, well, Aetherflow, to gain 3 stacks of it and recover 1000 MP. These Aetherflow stacks can be used on the following OGCD abilities:

Lustrate (Lvl 45): A 600 potency heal. Very straightforward, and often not used because of the value of the other options. Energy Drain (Lvl 45): A 100 potency damaging OGCD. If you don’t need to heal, and you don’t think you need to heal for a bit, this is your go-to aetherflow dump. Also, if you’re attempting parses on Scholar, have fun using all your aetherflow on this. Sacred Soil (Lvl 50): Create a bubble that reduces damage taken by all allies inside by 10% for 15 seconds. At level 78 this upgrades to offer a 100 potency heal (500 potency heal in total). Only costing 1 aetherflow gauge, having a 30 second cooldown, and lasting 15 seconds, this skill is INCREDIBLY GOOD, especially after the level 78 upgrade. Indomitability (Lvl 52): A 400 potency AoE heal. Straightforward, but very effective because of its numbers. Excogitation (Lvl 62): An 800 potency heal that triggers when the target falls under 50% HP, or if its 45 second duration ends. While it feels awkward to use for beginners, its usefulness is immeasurable. It is technically a higher potency version of Lustrate, with a slight cooldown and delay, but fills a more ‘fire-forget’ niche. Very useful inside of all settings but remember, it will not proc if the target will outright die to the damage before it triggers (i.e if a tank takes a tankbuster at 51% health, and the hit does 60%, excog will not proc.)

[ Gameplay, Tips and Design ]

Scholar, as I have stated, fills the role of a preemptive healer, especially with all of the mitigation present in its kit, as well as the existence of Excog. As such, this job sees a greater increase in effectiveness as you yourself learn a fight compared to a pure healer such as WHM/Diurnal AST. If you know when the party/raid-wide damage is coming, and you prepare accordingly with... Say, A sacred soil and a succor, that is a good chunk of damage you or your co-healer won’t have to heal, thus affording both of you more time to deal damage. Inside of higher end content, like savage raids, having said mitigation is both invaluable for progressing through fights, as well as streamlining and perfecting them. For a while, because of that fact, SCH was the unofficial ‘king’ of healers for a very long time, especially considering there used to be a lot more damage inside of SCH’s kit (rest in peace almost everything that made it unique lol). The start of Shadowbringers was when SCH was finally taken off of its throne, not by AST like many would think (also because it took quite the hit), but by WHM of all things. Thankfully through a series of buffs since 5.0, SCH would begin to see themselves slowly climb back and situate in a comfortable position, but while Scholar is in a good spot now, that does not mean it’s perfect.

Scholar’s ability to heal pure HP is a bit lacking, especially so when dealing with attacks that place the party or specific players at 1 hp. SCH’s find themselves having to use multiple resources in trying to recover that lost HP, often losing much more damage uptime in comparison to WHM or AST (Which is why the ideal healing composition involves 1 pure healer and 1 shield healer). This usage of multiple resources also makes SCH a fair bit more punishing to inexperienced healers than AST or WHM. With the HP recovery of fairies being nerfed in Shadowbringers, much more of the agency is placed back upon the player, who in turn must pay attention to everything that the class has to offer. Obviously not all content is going to necessitate OPTIMAL PLAY, but with all the moving parts present within its kit, Scholar demands a bit more attention to be paid towards it and its skills.

Outside of a learning curve and lack of pure healing, Scholars are punished heavily for dying. Not only must they spend a GCD in resummoning their fairy, all fairy gauge and aetherflow stacks are also lost on death, and if aetherflow was on cooldown at the time, A SCH is going to not have a majority of their kit for awhile on top of having reduced healing due to weakness/brink of death. This once again lends itself to Scholar being less beginner-friendly as opposed to the other healers, even with the existence of freebie heals from your fairy.

Hell, speaking about fairies, therein lies an issue itself - Scholar being a pet class. Conceptually it’s awesome, but with how FFXIV handles pets/demi-summons and their AI, it’s also quite the hassle. Like I mentioned above, ghosting is a problem when it comes to pet classes, and if you don’t properly adjust around it, some of your cooldowns can simply just go poof. Weaving both Whispering Dawn and Fey Illumination in the same double weave will cause the one that’s cast later to cast quite a bit later. On top of that, if you’re moving while you’re weaving them, there’s a chance you’ll have to wait for the fairy to catch up to you to finally cast them (which is why placing your fairy pre-battle is very useful). And as a general rule of thumb, never use summon seraph right after you use Whispering Dawn or Fey Illumination. Wait until after you see the buff apply on everyone as using Seraph will cancel the queued action.

With all that being said, however Scholar is still highly effective in what it does, it just requires a bit of experience. While I can’t offer tutorials on every fight, there are a few general tips I can give for aspiring scholars out there!

[ Tips ]

(General Advice + Combos)

Double weaving on Scholar is rather straightforward, but if you're using Ruin II to do so after your Broil, it will be a technical DPS loss if you do not use an energy drain within the weave window! Broil III has a potency of 290, Ruin II has a potency of 200, and Energy Drain has a potency of 100. In weaving without the use of energy drain, you will lose 90 potency in comparison to if you were to cast another Broil III. Using Energy Drain will add another 100 potency, thus gaining you 10 potency overall. Of course you shouldn't always dump an aetherflow on energy drain when you're weaving, but it is something to keep in mind when you are aiming to do more damage!

- Healing Combos -

[Single Target] If you are AoE'ing, replace ruin II/Biolysis with Art of War!

[AoE Mitigation] (Shield + 5% magic damage mitigation + 10% all damage mitigation)

[Panic AoE Healing] (1029 potency AoE Healing) As a bonus little tip in regards to this, remember Scholar's AoE healing spell/ability priority! The above combo is when you cannot afford time for a regen, but if you can, follow this list. 1. Whispering Dawn (if you can afford time for the regen) 2. Fey Blessing 3. Sacred Soil (if you can afford time for the regen) 4. Indomitability 5. Succor + Emergency Tactics 6. Succor

Scholars luckily have a wonderful mobility tool in Ruin II which allows them to position easily, though at the cost of DPS. However, this loss is minimal compared to its cohorts, wherein WHM either has to clip their Dia or use a lily, and AST either has to use Lightspeed, or slowly shuffle over with Malefics. This makes Scholar a bit easier to navigate when learning fights! Don't be afraid to use Ruin II if you're looking to push for a clear or learn a mechanic better, as a dead scholar is worse than one that is losing dps.

A crucial part of Scholar's kit is actually Chain Stratagem. While it loses much of its usefulness in public groups, or those who do not exactly care for proper rotations, when you can coordinate buffs and opening combos, it provides a large boost in DPS for the whole party. Typically, the ideal time to use Chain Stratagem is upon your 4th GCD, and everytime it comes off cooldown after, but this can change depending on your group. Here is an example 4th GCD Chain opener.

(Dungeons)

While AoE’ing mob packs, you can keep your focus target on the tank. It will make it much easier to heal them in a pinch.

Sacred Soil is essentially a free 15 second long cooldown for the tank, that ALSO heals at level 78 and above. It’s very, very useful.

Using Excog and adlo between pulls will allow you to spend more time AoE’ing mobs

Don’t forget about your fairy skills, especially fey union. Lazy mode is using fey union after whispering dawn, fey illumination and sacred soil and then proceeding to press art of war until the cows come home.

(Trials/Raid)

Recitation + Excog on your main tank pre-pull. Many use recitation+Adlo and then spread the shield with deployment tactics, but you don’t need to use recitation for that! Catalyze is the bonus shielding a crit adlo creates, and cannot be spread. Therefore save your recitation for a free excog and use a normal adlo+deployment tactics afterwards.

Please, please, PLEASE, if you are in a static or raid environment, make sure you allies stand in Sacred Soil when they can. It makes all of your lives easier.

Pre-placing your fairy in the center of the arena is a good habit to get in, but if you need your fairy AoE’s while you’re away from the center, make sure to press heel on your fairy hotbar to make it follow you again.

[Design]

Outside of all that, there is a collection of miscellaneous things that I do want to prattle off in relation to this category, mostly being some design choices and ideas I had for the class going forward. So, let’s begin!

Why does Fey Blessing not become Consolation when you have Seraph out? They are essentially the same thing, and you CAN’T EVEN USE FEY BLESSING WHEN YOU HAVE SERAPH OUT. WHY IS FEY BLESSING AND CONSOLATION SEPARATE BUTTONS. ANSWER ME SQUARE ENIX, TELL ME WHY.

There should be another way to dump Fairy gauge. It would make the system a bit more interactive (A lot like how lilies got an AoE version as well as Afflatus misery with SHB).

We should be able to cancel fey union in the middle of a cast. Breaking the tether does not have an animation nor any animation lockout, and in my eyes is technically not an OGCD. With this change, cancelling fey union can be done on the fly and not require a weave so as to not lose uptime.

The delay upon shield application is a tad annoying, especially so in the use of deployment tactics. Sometimes, if you cast too late, the boss’ Aoe will eat the heal, but not the shield. And in the case of the latter, if you use deployment tactics too quickly, you’ll spread nothing.

Bring back fairy uniqueness ;-;

[ Final Evaluation ]

Now comes time for my final grading.

Going forward with these Class Analyses, I will grade the class upon a set of categories unique to their role (DPS, Tank, Healer). As such, in my grading of Scholar, I will judge it based on the following categories, on a scale of F-S:

Damage (Personal) - The damage they bring to the table by themselves. Damage (Raid setting) - The damage they bring based upon their RDPS potential Accessibility - How easy is it to pick up and play? Mitigation - How well can they prevent damage? Healing - How well can they heal damage? Fun - Well, is it fun? Fantasy fulfillment - Does it fit the class aesthetics/lore?

Damage (Personal) [7] - While not as powerful alone as White Mage, Scholar is not entirely dependent upon team mates for damage like Astrologian.

Damage (Raid Setting) [8] - The addition of chain stratagem to Scholar’s already decent damage takes that one extra step beyond.

Accessibility [4] - Starts as a DPS in Arcanist, has many unique functions and is punished heavily if they die in the middle of a battle.

Mitigation [10] - They’re the originator of shield healers, and definitely keep the crown. Sacred soil is always going to be ridiculous.

Healing [6.5] - Scholar’s pure healing is a bit lacking, but with Square’s fight design, any healer should be able to make it through a fight. Therefore, I cannot rate Scholar all too low in this category.

Fun [7.5, almost 8] - Keeps you engaged, but lacks the pizzazz of Astro and the oomph of White Mage. Still a fun class at the end of the day, though!

Fantasy Fulfillment [9] - As tactical geniuses in the lore, the feel of Scholar gameplay fits that ideal! Through your mitigation, pre-planned abilities, and setting up of fairy abilities, you definitely feel like a tactician controlling the flow of battle, though it does falter a bit with a lot of their old options being removed in SHB.

[ End ]

And with that, we are done with this analysis! As for my personal conjecture with Scholar, it’s one of my mains, and used to be my go to raid healer, that is until my static needed a bit more upfront healing for e12s prog awhile back. If you were to look at my FFlogs, you’d probably see an absolute deluge of WHM parses since it’s uhh... Kinda technically my new healer main, but I still love SCH I swear! Another thing that made me switch from SCH to WHM was the inclusion of a DRK in our static. The ability to instantly remove Walking Dead with one button is so much easier than blowing cooldowns on both healers. Though, technically, from a savage perspective, the highest damage team setup is SCH + AST (Mostly because boosting teammate damage will always do more than just being good yourself, especially this late in the tier).

Anywho... This is the REAL end of the analysis. Hope you enjoyed and if you have any suggestions, questions or things to address, just comment and let me know!

Yabi, out~

[devintimurphy]

How fucked up is it that psychologists will just throw pills at me if I ask? Aren’t they supposed to be helping me? I try and talk to them, but they just want to “be there for me” and tell me “You need to go out more often.”

I try and tell them I’m sad, but they can’t see through my mask. They won’t believe me because I seem happy. Like, That’s the point, DOCTOR, I don’t want people to think I can’t function without a goal. To think that I’m so dependent on my stupid, fucking, job for stability it cripples me, makes me unable to do literally anything else.

I can’t connect with anyone except with superficial things like music taste, and sex. I started smoking because I wanted to see what they were talking about and learn how to be “normal.” That and playing video games to the point my bank account would rather they didn’t exist.

Just the IDEA of dating gets me anxious, I can’t breathe, I lose my ability to think beyond “oh fuck that would be a nightmare. What if they hurt me? What if I get stuck with someone that’s just going to toss me aside when they suddenly find “the one.” I’m not good enough for someone to spend the rest of their life with.” And they just tell me you need to work on your negative self-talk. LIKE I DIN’T THINK ABOUT THAT ONE!? Wait, let me just, turn it off. EXCEPT I CAN’T.

And what am I supposed to do when anything can get me sad? I can’t cry and can’t just say “oh it’s not real” because the emotions are real. Did you know they have a physical form too? Emotions are chemicals your brain releases and for some reason mine just want to keep going anytime something happens. Except when I should be stressed, worried or afraid. Then? NOT A THING. NUMB.

My brother died when I was in 6th grade in elementary school. I say I have it under control, but the truth is I don’t. Not that there’s anything to do about it, I’ve already gone through five years of therapy to teach me “coping skills.” That’s why when a new psychologist wants to talk about that shit, I get so frustrated. I sacrificed my, would have been, slightly less than normal childhood learning things most adults don’t have to worry about until they’re at least 25 years old when their PARENTS die.

And just as I learned how to be my perceived normal, my sister died when I was a freshman in high school. Honestly, I’m not sure if it was because I was already so numb at that point, or if it was because I was expecting it, but when she died, I felt so little compared to when my brother died. At my second funeral I had to force my tears, because they just wouldn’t come. I know my mom and dad have a huge hole ripped in their hearts, but I just can’t feel the same.

Looking back, what I was doing in school was a great indicator of my mental health at the time. Elementary school, I couldn’t be taught worth shit until I learned everyone else was interested. When I say interested, I don’t mean genuinely, I mean they were fooled by the teachers into thinking it was useful for adult life, and of course every little kid wants to grow up. And after learning they were interested in whatever, I just forced myself to be, just as I do with social interactions now.

Middle school, I was working hard, trying to be the image of a good student, but not trying to stand out. A mistake I regret. I have only one friend that I still talk to from middle school, or high school for that matter. I was meeting so many people though. I just wish someone had told me then to make friends. You always see it in the cheesy kids’ movies, but you don’t realize how right the parents are until you’re two years out of high school and your only friends are from your job. I know it’s bad, but I wish I took more risks, smoked weed, had sex, or even stayed out late, even once. But no. Too busy staying in my lane and not standing out.

Highschool, where I really fucked up. I say I fucked up, but that may be because I remember it clearer than the rest. I only ever dated once, I only smoked weed 3 times, still never fucked, and as I said before, only made one lasting friendship. I was awkward and self-centered before getting to high school until I visited my grandparents in Montana and had a good amount of time to reflect.

After returning, I think I was surprised more than anyone else about how much I had changed. The interactions I had were different and I kept thinking to myself “I never said such-and-such to this person before.” Things like thanks, and you’re right, and please help me. All failings I now attribute to the large amount of time I spent with my self-righteous, self-centered, and habitual liar of a grandmother.

Not only that, but I limited my interactions further by making the decision to be homeschooled. Of course, I knew my parents wouldn’t be able to teach me, but I didn’t realize what a sacrifice that was. Just as I knew that I wouldn’t get to spend as much time with peers but didn’t know what consequences that would bring to my later life.

I guess I skipped ahead though. Back to elementary age, not school, I was raised by a village of fucked up, unhealthy people. As they say, “it takes a village to raise a child.” I couldn’t help that my village had been abused, lied to, and ignored their whole lives. But what could have saved me was an outside voice saying that’s not right, God knows I would have listened. But pish posh with bygones.

Now that I’m an adult, with a weight of bad decisions, mine and others’, I can’t help but look back and wonder what things would be like if I had a normal, urban family. Instead of the gypsy, boomer upbringing I got. Mind you, I wasn’t a gypsy, just raised by one, likewise for boomers.

Looking at what I call friends now, really acquaintances from wherever; high school, work, college, almost everyone is a little fucked. I can’t see their personal lives, but I feel like I’m more fucked up than them. Does that make me a bad person? What I mean is, it seems like for everyone else, life just got better after high school while I got fucked over and over in the past two years.

Five years I have in this job. I’m currently two years in and hating almost every moment of it. Some will think “oh well, it’s your fault you’re there” or “just be glad you have a job.” And believe me when I say, “I KNOW” and “I AM.”

I guess what I’m saying is, I wish I was more aware when I was younger. About myself, about the people around me, and the effect my decisions would have on my life. Not even in the long run, but the near future.

If I had any advice to give to the younger people now, it would be this. Look around your life. Look at the people, your choices, and what you are losing whenever you make a decision. Ask the people around you what their experiences were with similar circumstances and their advice. Ask specifically what they lost from making those decisions. And finally, never go into a big life choice blind.

[immortalonus]

Where You Belong: Chapter One.

So in case you guys were wondering where I vanished off to, the answer is mostly work. This chapter also took way, way more brain power than I really intended, so I didn't really have the energy to post much else.

I could probably edit this more, but I swear if I spend one more hour editing this I will go insane, so here it is, chapter one of my first multi-chapter fic in, *checks calendar,* four years!?

Jeez, time really does fly, doesn't it?

Read on AO3

If I were Where I Would be, Then I Would be Where I Am not. But where I am, There I must be. And where I would be, I cannot.

-American Folk Poem.

________________________________________________________

As soon as Valerie had flown out of sight of Plasmius’ portal, she made a point to dump everything he had given her for the trip.

First, the communication devices. She had no desire to talk to anyone, much less the creepy, lying, traitorous ghost-thing masquerading as Vlad Masters. She gave the DALVco edition headset her best fast ball, taking no small satisfaction in watching it break piece by piece as it clattered against the frames of one floating door after another before finally vanishing into the mists below.

If Plasmius wanted to talk to her, he could crawl out of his portal and find her himself. Which he wasn’t going to do, because he had a cover to maintain. After all, what kind of delicate, elderly gentleman would throw himself into a dimension of rarified death? Not Mister Masters, oh no.

Especially not when he had a willing pawn to do it for him.

The more surreptitious listening devices went next. Fat, disgusting, bloated insects they were, bugs in function as much as form.And they were everywhere.

She found them wedged between her armor joints, the soles of her boots, in the crevices of her guns, and, after putting her systems through an intensive self-diagnostic, her hair.

When had he touched her hair?

She made a point to crush them all. Either plucking off the parasites directly, or, in the case of those lodged beneath her suit, pulling them into her storage unit and spitting them back out again into the open atmosphere where they could be destroyed.

She removed everything else Plasmius had given her immediately after: Several days worth of food, a large pop up tent, a sleeping bag, a map, several spare weapons, a well thumbed biography on Vince Lombardi and more spewed out of her storage units like a sickness, purged in gouts down to the waiting abyss.

Any thing he'd handled, all his supplies, every “present” he'd ever bestowed, she made a point to dump them all.

But God, when had he touched her hair?

Once she was finished, it felt almost like a victory. With no material proof of her obligations, it was easy to imagine she was already free.

She would finish this mission on her own. No outside aid, no puppet-masters, no regrets.

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

/Sorrysorry-soverysorry!/

“Shut up!”Valerie had regrets.

/sorrysorrysorry/

So many regrets.

“I said shut up, you stupid bug!”

She emphasized her point by kicking the target of her ire right in the soft parts of its creepy, eye studded thorax.

This was stupid, she was stupid, but more than anything, she was pissed.

Valerie took a few steps closer to her target, gait slightly uneven for the lack of both her usual boots. While she wasn't going to die anytime soon, as the black leather that fit snug as skin across her body, the true barrier against the toxic atmosphere of the Zone, remained fully intact, it didn't stop her from being mad about it.

The bug, which had finally stopped gibbering in that vile, hissing tongue that had become more and more common the deeper she ventured into the pea-soup hellscape otherwise known as the ghost zone, took the opportunity to cower against the calciferous outgrowth that had halted its pitiful attempt at flight from Valerie's relentless pursuit.

She had hunted ghosts stronger and faster than this every day back in Amity, and could not help the faint sensation of disgust that came over her at the sight of a figure so unexpectedly pathetic. Did she appear so weak that this creature, along with the half a dozen or so of its less successful, but no less kleptomaniacally inclined ilk see fit to prey upon her? Did she seem so low indeed, that even the meanest, most beggarly of the Zone's inhabitants should see her as some object to pilfer and mock?

It was the work of a moment to summon her laser cubes, pulling them from the pocket dimension from which they resided to slide noiselessly over to the insect lying prone before her. With a thought, they flew forward, two each to press down on the thing's chitinous skull, heightening the artificial glow of her suit as she did for that extra sense of intimidation.

It was an ability she'd never had the need for back on earth, only to find herself putting it to use with unhappy frequency not a day after she'd set off on her journey.

Everything in the realm of the dead glowed, and the capacity to put off and manipulate one's own aura was a hallmark of the creatures that 'lived' within it. Those that didn't stood out strangely, casting shadows upon themselves and the world in a way that made them an obvious anomaly in the otherwise antumbral reaches of the Zone.

While Valerie didn't enjoy wasting her resources on glowing like she was her very own spook, she also hated wasting time, which advertising her humanity to every ghost that glanced her way very much did; a lesson that she'd learned after fending off an entire assault squad of ghost police, who had chased her for ages while screaming about her criminal possession of so many 'real world objects' within their territory.

That it also made sure any enemies never anticipated her ability to phase through objects came in handy from time to time as well, such as when a would-be thief, for example, tried to duck into a thicket in an effort to snarl its pursuer.

As expected, the bug shuddered in response to the cold touch of the barrel against its skin, curling into itself as it looked up into the dark panel of her faceplate.

Valerie leaned down, pinning it between herself, her guns, and the stony trunk of what, on this particular island, seemed to serve as some kind of tree.

/Alright, Manbug, one more time./ Her voice crackled and popped through her translators, adding even more intimidation to a tone already modulated down to something lower and crueler than her natural snarl. /Where. Did you. Put. My Stuff. /

The insect whimpered a little harder, oozing something suspiciously close to snot from the hole above its writhing mouthparts. It remained otherwise silent, however, as it shook.

Valerie pulled back her leg and kicked it again.

The imitation flesh buckled beneath her toes, causing the creature to squeal, a nonverbal expression of pain peaking just beyond her range of hearing as it flickered invisible, writhing in a hopeless gambit to escape the weapons still clamped against its head.

Funny how ghosts kept so many features they really shouldn't need anymore. Like joints, for example. Was it a subconscious matter, or some kind of deliberate choice, Just one more means to mock the living, their very forms a cruel parody of everything they once had been?

She silenced the voice which whispered how she should know by now, that it wasn't that easy. There were more important things to focus on.

/P-please./

The bug focused its myriad gaze on the huntress' visor, all six limbs twisted over themselves, wrapped tight over its oozing midsection.

/In error, Milor- Milord. Your place, held, not neutral. Shall honor, please. /

It was leaking from the eyes too, now, viscous fluid pouring from its dozens of eyes, wetting it bodily, puddling down onto the dark purple earth, adding to the halo of scattered goods and tchotchkes that had spilled out from the overstuffed bags that it had clung to for dear life even as they toppled, overbalanced from a too-fast turn, dragging the creature headfirst into ruin.

/Mer- mercy./

This wasn't fair. This miserable thing, begging in the dirt like it hadn't gotten anything more than what it deserved.

Valerie grimaced, rubbing the heel of her palm against her faceplate. Phantom's visage, not long past, looked up to her from the depths of her memory, face just as desperate, just as indisputably, distressingly genuine as when she'd first seen it.

“Valerie, You don't want to do this.”

“Like I have a choice, spook.” She muttered.

She took a deep breath, sucking in the same recycled exhalation she'd been breathing for nearly a week now, and took a moment to actually think her situation through.

She wasn't lost. She had no idea where she was, but she wasn't lost: That would imply a level of helplessness she could not bring herself to admit. What little food and water she had brought with her had been eaten a while back, reducing her to scavenge among the portal droppage scattered through those areas not patrolled by mad policemen, hoping she could find something sufficiently sealed against ectoplasmic encroachment to remain edible.

She reconsidered her captive, still trembling on the ground. A ghost zone native, utterly at her mercy, and, by the looks of things, a serial hoarder of goods.

/You want mercy? Fine. But you do what I say, exactly as I say it, M'kay?/

While the guns pinning its head in place were something of an obstacle, the bug did manage a spasmodic sort of jerking motion, forebody pushed back and forth with desperate, eager haste.

/(Enthusiasm,) (enthusiasm,) assent! Lord, generous, gratitude, respect./

“Good, now-”She held out one hand, palm expectant.

/Give 'em back./

It responded slowly, still slobbering at the maw, all eyes fixed on the huntress as it unwound its uppermost limbs, which reached up towards those tattered bundles still clustered fungiform over its heaving thorax, rifling between twine-like bindings for what seemed an age.

Patience had never been a skill of Valerie's, and she found herself torn between wanting the moment to last forever and wishing go faster instead, tightening her mental grip over her laser cubes, fingering the internal triggers in anticipation of some sudden, traitorous motion on the part of her captive.

Ghosts were deceptive, dangerous creatures, except, of course, when they weren't.

Without any ability to tell the difference, she could do nothing but pace at the bars of her patience, waiting for the moment to act.

Finally, a claw submerged itself into one of the parcels, pulling out one boot, and, just beside it, a single leather fold.

This was it. Valerie snatched the wallet from its pincers. The boot was replaceable, her construct engines could make another now, if she wanted to waste the resources for it, but her wallet-She flipped open the small leather parcel, noted immediately that the contents were not any state remotely akin to how she had left them.

/Milord?/

The bug was still subtly trying to wriggle its way out from under her guns. Her systems noted, then deleted, increased energy expenditure from her laser cubes as they were forced to adjust to its motions.

Useless data. A ghost of so low a caliber could never hope to escape so easily.

Debit card-broken, bent until the plastic whitened from an excess of pressure; Dollar bills balled together and crammed into a single pocket, still damp with a kind of ectoplasm that looked disquietingly similar to the slobber still dripping from the mouthparts of the bug before her; Plastic wrappers, spare coins, a concert flyer for a band she'd always wanted to see.

/Ah, Milord? Pardon, Excuse?/

All of it. This vile, twisted excuse for an insect had messed with all of it. It had played with her most important cards and documents like they were toys, then shoved them back in with utter disregard for any sense of their value once it was done.

/Goods, returned, trust?/

Dread crept into her heart as she reached into the backmost pocket of her billfold, the place where she kept the picture of her.

/more goods? Information? Information on goods? Release, please?/

It was shoved in the very bottom of the wallet, balled into the crease where the two halves of leather were joined into one. She pulled it out, fingers shaking only slightly as they smoothed it back into a more flattened form.

The Red Huntress had no face, and never had Valerie been more grateful for that absence than in that moment, when she beheld the true extent of the damage done to Polaroid before her.

Soft white creases were everywhere, shattering the image into isolated fragments of its former self. It had been torn, too, at the edges, a grip too hard, twisting too far, integrity compromised as a result.

The worst of the damage by far, however, were a series of punctures, scattered at random through the center of the photograph, small to medium perforations forming little absences where there had once been trees and grass, where there had been a woman's face. A hole sat primly above her dark neck, arched back into nothing, a yawning gap where once there had been laughter.

The Huntress turned her blank visage back to her captive, who froze in the act of trying to pry her weapons out of position. Cowardly, but expected. Trusting a ghost was a fools game she had no intent on playing.

/Ah, haha, (nervous) (nervous,) (respect.)/ The target pulled its claws back up against itself, fiddling with the tips as it looked up to her absent regard.

/...Milord?/

The Red Huntress had no face, could betray no emotion, could reveal none of the cold black welter that rushed up through the depths of her breast and pressed against her throat. An impassive machine, possessed of a will stripped free of feeling.

No sliver of her intent showed through, no shudder passed from her shaking fingers to her gauntleted hands, not even the psychic senses of a ghost could hope to detect the lava that boiled up from her guts, pressing against her skin in an sheet of living fire even as the pits of her stomach chilled to ice.

The bug was still looking up at her, eyes all expectant, when she commanded her one of her guns to fire.

A bright streak of energy shot through the top of its head, hard pink flash cutting through a wave of green.

It squealed, jerked all six limbs towards the missing portion of its skull in a hopeless effort to stop the thick chunks of ectoplasm from slopping down the side of its face. Valerie brought her foot down at the same moment, crushing its forelimbs down into the dust. Forelimbs tipped with little claws, just large enough to fit the holes in a certain photograph.

/Why!? Ancients, why, why!?/

Why?

“Why the hell not?” she snarled, “Ain't that how it works here?”

If a different ghost wanted to rob her blind every time she tried to sleep, they could. If Valerie wanted to chase down the one that finally succeeded, she could. There were no laws here, there were no rules, there weren't even morals. There was nothing to stop anyone from doing anything, so why should she be the one to hold herself back?

She lifted her foot off its claws, then swung it once again into its thorax, only just crusted over from where she had kicked it before.

It squealed, just like she imagined another ghost would, red eyes wide and frightened, vampiric teeth shattered against her fist, choking as she wrapped her fingers around his blue, blue, skin.

He deserved this, it deserved this, she was in the right. She had been tricked, mislead, mistaken maybe, but she wasn't wrong, she was in the right.

And if there was some dark curl of satisfaction there, a self righteous flame alighted just where she'd been coldest in that moment of hate, then that was proof, wasn't it? Of just how right she was.

She bent down to her target, which had started drooling all over again, ground speckled green and wet as it heaved against itself. It was disgusting enough that she would have shot it in the mouth instead of the head, but she still needed information, which meant it still needed to talk.

It's upper set of antenna had survived the cranial blast, making for an easy handhold as she yanked its drooping head up to face her once again. At the same time, she sent her guns down to its chest, where its energy levels peaked their highest.

Ghosts, much like the cockroaches they resembled, could survive well enough without a head, but none, not one could ever hope to make it without their precious ghostly core.

“Listen up spook.” She hissed. /Here's how this is gonna work. You lie, I shoot. You run, I shoot. Got it?/Its head twitched up and down, the smallest possible motion of assent.

/Good./

This was what it took, when it came to ghosts. Cooperation proceeded pain, loyalty from the threat of it, and mercy not at all.

/We'll start with the questions./

She allowed her guns to charge power, deadly, scintillating hum filling the air with the sound of her malintent.

/I like what I hear, maybe I let you keep talking./

Author's note: If Sam is more pride than wrath, then Val is more wrath than pride, IMO. I've done my best to write her accordingly

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #175

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re entering the Dead Heat Summer Race! That’s right, we’re finally doing some Summer servants... in the Summer! We’re still a year off, but at least they’ve got the spirit!

As an added challenge, I’ll make sure all the teams get their own car! Fran & Maid Alter get a pass since they’re teamed up with people that already have cars (Babbage & Nero, respectively), but the others will all have their own vehicles to ride!

Anyways, today we’re building Nero Claudius... again. I promise this is... probably(?) the last time. She’s a Creation Bard to build up her golden theater on the sea as well as a sick car. She’s also a Draconic Soul Sorcerer to grab those giant guns she’s got on her back.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: Team Electric Steam feat. Papa!

Race and Background

Nero is still a Human Noble. This gives her +1 to any two stats, and her Constitution and Charisma will need rounding up in a second, so go with those. She also gets proficiency with History, Persuasion, and Performance, plus the Lucky feat to re-roll her attacks, saves, and checks plus incoming attacks three times per long rest. You might be in a bikini, but you’re still the emperor. You get what you want, and what you want is just about everything.

Ability Scores

Surprising no one, your Charisma is your highest stat. The race was basically a popularity contest, and you won almost every leg of it. Second is Dexterity- you’re fighting in either a dress or a swimsuit, but in either case it’s definitely not armor. Your Constitution is next, races take a while and there’s no time to stop for snacks, so you’ll have to toughen up a bit. After that is Intelligence. You’re flighty, not dumb. Your Strength isn’t amazing, you don’t really need big muscles to look good, but we’re dumping Wisdom. It wouldn’t be high at the best of times, and the caster class suits you to a dangerous degree.

Class Levels

1. Sorcerer 1: Starting off as a sorcerer may get you less health and fewer proficiencies, but you still get Constitution and Charisma saves, as well as Arcana and Religion. You’re a caster now, it’s time to act like one.

The big reason we’re starting here right away is for the goody you get from being a Draconic Bloodline sorcerer, Draconic Resilience. Thanks to your great-great-great-great-great-grandparent Dragon Ancestor being a red dragon, you get an extra 1 hp for each level of this class, as well as a doubled proficiency bonus on charisma checks involving dragons.

You also get an unarmored defense of 13 + your dexterity modifier. Now you can wear a swimsuit anywhere you like without issues. I’d still recommend you don’t meet the king dressed like that, but you’re a noble, I’m sure he’s already expecting a bit of eccentricity.

You can also cast Spells using your Charisma, grab Light and Minor Illusion to put on a good show, Sword Burst so you can actually use a sword (we’ll get better options later), and Magic Missile and Create Bonfire for some quick shots from your cannons. You also get Absorb Elements, because this and Blade Ward are the easiest to get “weakness nullifying” spells, and this one’s actually good.

2. Bard 1: Bouncing over to bard real quick gives you another set of Spells that also use Charisma. You also get Bardic Inspiration, d6s you can hand out as a bonus action to allies. While they have one, they can add it to an attack, save, or check they have to make. You have Charisma Modifier inspiration dice to give out per long rest.

You do whatever you want, and while Prestidigitation isn’t quite that open-ended, it’s still pretty good for a single spell. You also get Friends, Command and Charm Person to be your usual charming self. Grab Cure Wounds for just a touch of healing, and Feather Fall. You’ve got giant metal wings, they should be good for something, right?

You get proficiency with Animal Handling as well.

3. Bard 2: Second level bards are Jacks of All Trades, adding half their proficiency bonus to all ability checks. You can also perform a Song of Rest on short rests, adding 1d6 to healing done. Your dulcet tones inspire everyone around you! (Usually to put as much distance between themselves and you as possible, but hush)

Your inspiration also turns into Magical Inspiration- creatures can use your inspiration to add to their spell’s damage or healing potential.

Finally, you get the spell Unearthly Chorus, which doesn’t have any damage or healing potential! It just makes you even better at charisma checks. It’s also very flavorful for someone about to open a theater.

4. Bard 3: Third level bards graduate from their college, and the College of Creation will one day allow you to afford a car! For now, you only have a Note of Potential, adding extra effects to your inspiration depending on how they’re used. Adding one to an ability check gives the user advantage on the die roll. Adding it to an attack roll deals thunder damage to the target and each creature next to it that fails a constitution save. Adding it to a saving throw adds temporary hp to the user equal to the roll plus your charisma modifier.

You know how I just said you only have the note? We lied. You can also make a Performance of Creation once per long rest or by spending a second level spell slot. You can create any nonmagical item, as long as it is worth less than 20 times your bard level in GP, and medium or smaller. Neither of those restrictions will help you make a car, but they’ll improve as you level up.

Finally, you get Expertise in Animal Handling and Arcana, doubling your proficiency bonus in both skills.

For your spell, Enhance Ability makes it easier to do whatever you set your mind to, giving advantage on one kind of ability check for the duration.

5. Bard 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Charisma for stronger spells and more inspiration.

You also learn the Dancing Lights cantrip so you can put on even better shows, and Pyrotechnics for pretty much the same reason. You need an existing source of fire to set it off, but you can always combo it with Create Bonfire in a pinch.

6. Bard 5: Fifth level bards are a Font of Inspiration, recharging your inspiration on short rests instead of long ones. Also, your inspiration grows to d8s.

You can also make a Motivational Speech with a third level spell slot, giving your party temporary HP, advantage on wisdom saves, and advantage on its next attack if it gets hit by an attack.

7. Bard 6: Countercharm is okay, spend an action to give advantage to your party on charm and frightening saves, but we’re really here for your subclass specialties. Your Performance of Creation can make Large objects now, and you can spend an action to make an Animating Performance, turning a large or smaller (gee, that worked out nicely) object into a Dancing Item for up to an hour. It’ll only dodge on its turn unless you use your bonus action to command the thing, but you can inspire people and command it in the same action. You can make a dancing item once per long rest, or by using third level spell slots. Also, you can only have one at a time. I’m pretty sure a functional car in a medieval setting is worth more than 120 gold though, so we’ll work on it some more later.

For your spell, I’d suggest Suggestion, it’s very useful for making the world revolve around you.

8. Sorcerer 2: Second level sorcerers become a Font of Magic (you are just becoming a font for all sorts of crap, huh?), giving you sorcery points equal to your sorcerer level. You can turn spell slots into points, or points into slots, or even cooler stuff next level!

For now, the big new thing is you can cast Shield. Those giant metal wings make it harder to hit you than you’d think.

9. Sorcerer 3: Third level sorcerers get that cooler thing I was just talking about, Metamagic! When you get it now, you get two metamagic options that can alter how your spells work; Heightened spells force disadvantage against their save on one creature they effect, and Twinned spells target two creatures instead of only one (Note: twinned spells only work on spells that target a single creature.)

You also get Scorching Ray, giving you a macross missile massacre of fire out of those organcannons you’re hauling around with you.

10. Bard 7: We’re stopping back in bard real quick to grab your fourth level spell, Hallucinatory Terrain. Somehow you always bring the waterfront with you when you use your NP, and now you really can do that!

11. Sorcerer 4: Use this ASI to max out your Charisma for the best spells possible. Speaking of the best spells possible, you can cast True Strike now for advantage on an attack next turn! You can also cast Shadow Blade so you have a sword you can attack with. A cool, spooky sword that deals psychic damage and has advantage against targets in the dark. Yes, it took us half the build to get a sword, that’s what happens when you’re a cavalry class.

12. Sorcerer 5: Fifth level sorcerers are even better at skill checks now thanks to their Magical Guidance, using your sorcery points to reroll failed checks for, essentially, permanent advantage on whatever you do.

You can also cast Water Walk. Eventually your NP will involve actual water, so you’ll want to be prepared for that. Forcing your whole party to do the doggy paddle every time you want to cut loose isn’t a great look, be a team player here.

13. Sorcerer 6: Our last stop on the sorcerer train is sixth level, giving you an Elemental Affinity for fire. All your fire damage spells get your charisma added to their damage, and you can spend a sorcery point after casting one of them to gain resistance to fire damage for an hour. Always remember to apply sunscreen throughout the day. Now more than ever, that shit gets hot.

To take advantage of this new affinity, you can cast Melf’s Minute Meteors, launching chunks of those cannons off and firing a couple per turn at your enemies, dealing fire damage in a small area around their destination. Creatures have to make a dexterity save, and if they succeed they take half damage. Like scorching ray, these are multiple instances of fire damage, so add your charisma to each one.

14. Bard 8: Back in bard for good now! Use this ASI to bump up your Dexterity so you can start being good with a sword. Just in case that’s still not enough, you can cast Charm Monster now too. You have enough gravitas to bend the authors to your will, I’m sure you can handle a manticore or two.

15. Bard 9: Your Song of Rest grows to 1d8 now, but more importantly you get fifth level spells! Animate Objects is another way to build your car (we’re still 5 levels away from performance of creation building it) or to get your cannon bits into position.

16. Bard 10: Tenth level bards get another cantrip! Honestly, we probably should’ve gotten Mending earlier. Adventuring in an outfit where a single snapped string can completely remove your top isn’t a great idea. You also get Magical Secrets, giving you two spells from any spell list. Flame Blade gives you a more thematically appropriate weapon, and Fireball is a big boom you can fire off.

On top of that, you get another round of Expertise, doubling your proficiency in Performance and Persuasion.

You also get a bigger inspiration, letting you hand out d10s.

17. Bard 11: Eleventh level bards get sixth level spells, like Mass Suggestion. It’s like Suggestion, but for the masses.

18. Bard 12: Use this last ASI to bump up your Dexterity again for a higher AC and better swordplay.

19. Bard 13: Your song of rest increases to a d10 as well, and you get the seventh level spell of champions, Mirage Arcane! If you make an illusion you can really feel, is it still an illusion? Anyways, you can make your golden theater now and the ocean surrounding it, and it all lasts for 10 days!

20. Bard 14: Your capstone level of bard lets you hit a Creative Crescendo, creating up to five items at once when you use your Performance of Creation. One of those objects can be Huge, the rest all have to be Small or smaller. You also don’t have to worry about cost when making objects, so that car is finally within reach! 

You also get Magical Secrets again for two more spells. Prismatic Spray gives your golden theater some big ass cannons, creating a 60′ cone of light that deals different kinds of damage and effects. You also get Tenser’s Transformation, turning you from a full caster class into a proper fighter once more. You get temporary HP, permanent advantage on weapon attacks, you deal extra force damage, gain proficiency with all weapons as well as strength and constitution saves, and you can attack twice per action. The downsides are you can’t cast spells and after it ends you have to make a constitution save afterwards to prevent exhaustion, but I think it’s appropriate that we finally gave Nero those migraines she’s always complaining about.

Pros:

As usual, nero’s build is pretty adaptable, with a little bit of everything to help out any dedicated role in the party. She has healing, dps spells, utility, social graces, pretty much all skill checks, and also literally the ability to make whatever item she might need in a given situation.

Tenser’s Transformation is meant to turn wizards into melee fighters, and you’re (more or less) a bard. With almost 200 HP thanks to this spell and the ability to make your own armory, you can turn yourself into a terrifying war god practically at will.

Elemental Affinity can be really scary if you game the system right. Max out a casting of scorching ray to deal 20d6+50 damage to a single target. That’s better than a 9th level fireball. It also gives resistance to one of the most common damage types!

Cons:

Fire is one of the most common damage types, so it’s also one of the most common resistances. You have other stuff to fall back on, but it’ll put a crimp in your style if you go up against fire elementals. Or water elementals. Or fiends. Or- you get the picture.

We don’t improve on physical stats until level 14, which means you’ll be stuck with an AC of 15 for a majority of the game, and your sword skills won’t be that useful until very late in the campaign.

The big moment where the build really comes together as Nero is around level 19-20, meaning most players will never actually reach that point. Sorry guys, Nero is a luxury few can afford.

[frozenartscapes]

does dragongard have a crest stone?

So, I think this would be a good time to talk about how I’m approaching Crest stones and Relics in this AU (partially because this is a good question and partially because I’m not sure if it will ever come up organically in the story and I hate writing exposition dumps within a story)

Short answer: yes, technically she does have a Crest stone

Long answer: I’ve always interpreted original Crest stones as being the hearts of dragons. The stones in all the Relics, and the one grafted onto Byleth’s heart, were all once the organic, beating hearts of living people. However, when those people died, the magic contained in their bodies rushed into their hearts and the whole organ calcified, trapping the magic within.

So this would have happened to all the Nabateans who became the Relics (we don’t know their names because the weapons crafted from their bones and hearts are named after the humans who possessed the weapons, not the Nabatean themselves). And any Nabatean Rhea was able to lay to rest in the Holy Tomb, assuming their bodies were intact.

We know that TWSITD are able to eventually manufacture artificial Crest stones (and Relics, from the look of it). But they still needed Nabatean blood (it’s implied they only get this technology once they get their hands on Flayn’s blood). So this is partially why, in this AU, they go for turning Edelgard into a Nabatean over just giving her two Crests. It would be far easier if they had a more reliable blood source - since it would seem that they had to figure out how to artificially manufacture blood, too. Finite resources, and such.

So, going back to the question: yes, Edelgard technically has a Crest stone, because her heart is her Crest stone. It won’t look like a traditional stone unless she dies, but it functions very similarly. It grants her additional strength, boosts magical abilities, and allows her to access Nabatean-specific skill sets like turning into a dragon or healing sleep cycles. There is the complication that she is still technically human, so as a result things like age-based immortality have been significantly affected. (As in: she’ll live a long time, far longer than most humans, but not to the extent that someone like Rhea has.) This is also how I interpret the other living Nabateans, like Rhea, Seteth, Flayn, and the other saints. They all have “Crest stones” but until they die the stones are in reality their hearts, their source of life and power.

Ok, now I’m just going to ramble about the Relics for a sec, but I’ll put it under a cut because this post is becoming long

So: the Relics. Imma be real with you guys for a moment: I grew up Catholic, and I minored in Art History (with a heavy lean to Medieval and Renaissance history). So these Relics... Ok, here we go.

Relics in Christianity, and specifically Catholicism, are things not many people know of if they aren’t part of the religion. If you are they are something so weirdly normalized half the time you don’t even think about it. But many things about Catholicism are. (Like Transubstantiation. That is such a fun thing trying to explain and not sound like a lunatic.) But we’re talking about relics, here, because the creative choice to call them Relics in the game was fucking phenomenal.

Catholic relics are basically dead people. There are some that aren’t - the True Cross and the Crown of Thorns are notable, non-dead people relics. But for most relics boasted about by various churches, they are either part of or a whole person. Whether or not that person is the saint they are claimed to be can get rather dubious, but yeah... Dead people. Often displayed in gilded boxes or holders, covered in gold or jewels, surrounded by paintings done up by famous artists. (Also note, too: If they aren’t a person-based relic they still have some morbid connection to how the saint they are connected to died, like, for example the True Cross - an execution device, or St. Paul’s Chains - chains that bound him before his martyrdom). It’s all very morbid and a little creepy but what’s more creepy is how normal it is to walk up to a box with a perfectly preserved saint just eternally sleeping away inside before asking her to shoot you a little prayer before your big test. But I digress.

In Three Houses, the Relics are also dead people. Dead dragons, to be more specific, but the Nabateans were both dragon and human so my statement still stands. The Relics themselves are bones (which are common for a church to hold as a relic of a saint). And in order for a Relic to function properly, it also needs the Crest stone (heart) of the dragon the bones came from. 

We also have seen that the Relics are highly unstable. If someone were to wield a Relic without possessing the Crest that matches it, the weapon can turn them into a Demonic Beast. And even having the Crest might not save you, as we see with Maurice, it’s possible to still be turned into a Demonic Beast through the power of the Relic/stone combination anyway.

So here’s my take on this: In Christianity, relics are meant to be a strong link between the physical world and the saint being represented by the relic. Praying with St. George’s arm present provides a better link to the saint than just praying to him normally. Sort of like, calling his office via an extension rather than using the main office line. The spirit of the Saints are closely linked to their relics, which is partially why they’re venerated so much.*

*I should note, however, that many of these relics are listed as the “real” relic, but in reality are more like a piece of wood or random body part discovered on a Crusade and brought back as a “treasure” from wars that ravaged many parts of the Middle East. They might hold spiritual significance, but just remember that the acquisition of many of these relics was certainly not the Divine miracle people claim - which also conveniently relates back to Three Houses when you realize what the Relics truly are and how they were obtained

So in Three Houses, every Nabatean crafted into a Relic still has their spirit present within the bones and Crest stone. They can’t really interact with anything outside of the Relic, but there is a strong connection between their spirits and their heart/bone/blood. This is why only someone possessing a particular Crest can wield the corresponding Relic. A Crest (the blood) ignites the power in the stone (the heart), which then prompts the body to come alive (the bones of the Relic itself). If any one of those things is missing or incorrect, the spirit behind the weapon will do one of two things: nothing, or react to the error. The angrier the spirit, the more violent the reaction. And I don’t know about you, but if I was ever murdered so my body could be twisted into a grotesque weapon to then be used to kill more of my family, I’d be pretty pissed about it.

If the bodies of the Nabateans are not laid to rest, they cannot be at peace. And the anger they feel about what happened to them and their brethren will continue to burn and fester. For some Nabateans, their anger was stronger than others. Whoever Maurice killed to get his Relic was so furious that it didn’t matter Maurice also had their blood - that rage still turned him into a Beast anyway. (But at the same time, Maurice was also the asshole who did the deed. Marianne, however, is a kind, gentle soul who does not enjoy raising her hand against any living creature. That would be something the spirit of the Nabatean could sense, and it would reflect how they respond to the user of the Relic.)

This is also why, in the canon game, characters with weapons made from artificial stones/bones did not face any issues. It’s implied that Aymr, for example, was created specifically for Edelgard. Despite holding the Crest stone of Maurice, she has no issue using it, because they reconfigured the stone to be attuned to the Crest of Seiros. (It’s also entirely possible that they just created this stone, and the Crest of the Beast was carved on it for ??? But this would effectively make the stone a blank slate to pair with any Crest that was available.) So these artificial weapons would not have a spirit of a Nabatean connected directly to them, and would be safer to use as a result.

(In terms of Crest stones being able to turn people into Demonic Beasts, even without the Relic, I see that more like handling something like a radioactive substance. The sheer amount of raw draconic power contained in a Crest stone would be enough to transform a human into a monster, just through contact alone. Even the artificially created ones still stem from that same magic, so holding one of those without any sort of protection would result in the same thing. That's why I'm starting to headcanon that, rather than just her two Crests activating at the same time, Edelgard just ripped the Crest stone out of Aymr when she turned into the Hegemon. Real or not, holding a Crest stone in your bare hand is a lot like that scene from Chernobyl when a firefighter unknowingly picks up a chunk of the exploded reactor core with his bare hand: You're dead before you even realize what you're holding.)