#Learn how to safely and effectively use your weapon.

[defensive-tactics]

Beware Bad Advice: Carry a defensive weapon if you want to. But make sure you know how to use it. And learn weapon retention, too.

[videogames-i-wish-were-real]

Videogames I wish were real #97

A roguelike game that takes place in the world's biggest library, which has been overrun by monsters, where you play as a librarian determined to save it. You venture inside the library armed with your weapon of choice and two messenger bags you plan to fill with whatever books you can rescue.

After you clear the monsters in a particular section of the library, such as the Poetry section, you'll unlock a permanent buff that will last for the remaining of that run. For example: clearing the Travel section will help you map areas faster, and also unlock the bookworm railway system that will allow you to move more easily between certain parts of the library.

Besides section buffs, you'll also be able to learn all kinds of useful attacks and skills by finding specific books in the shelves, reading them and carrying them in your messenger bags. The more books you carry, the stronger your character will be, and the abilities each book will grant you will be on theme with the book, it's literary genre or one of its tropes: carrying with you a bestiary will allow you to quickly identify the weak points of monsters you've met before, a book with an enemies to lovers trope will allow you to turn a monster into a temporary ally that will fight alongside you, a botany book in your bag will let you gather medicinal herbs growing in the library, and carrying a potions book will allow you to prepare healing potions (more effective than just herbs), etc.

Not everyone believes the library can be saved, which is why during your expeditions your mission is not only to kill monsters, but also to rescue books and bring them to the new library. Since getting books out is one of your main priorities, starting your runs with your satchels nearly full of books that grant you useful abilities won't be very efficient, so you'll need to decide how many books you want to bring back with you to the library during each run.

Fighting monsters is dangerous, and sometimes you get hurt, but also, sometimes books get hurt, which why after some runs you might need to stop by your workshop to repair any damaged books. The hides of certain monsters are very sturdy, so using them to rebind books will make them more durable.

There is no respawning in this game. If your librarian dies inside the library, the next librarian that ventures inside might eventually find their body. If you're close to death and you have a particular book from the Travel section in your bags, you'll be able to use it to summon a bookwork that will take you quickly and safely back to the entrance with whatever books are currently in your bag.

You love your library, and you are determined to save it, armed with the greatest weapon in the world: knowledge (and a sword), even if it's one book at a time.

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Headcanon/Preference # 35

Gifs NOT mine.

Year posted - 2024

Rating - SFW & NSFW

Reading time (roughly) - 18 minutes

It's been a minute since I've watched all the Resident Evil movies, so some stuff might not be super accurate. Just roll with it my lovelies.

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SFW

• You are really Weskers one and only true weakness, and he is both terrified, and enraged by the thought of someone exploiting that fact.

• So obviously he is very tempted to inject you with the virus. But he's worried that it might not bond with your genetics like his.

• So he runs like a million different tests, without your knowledge, to find out if it would undoubtedly bond with your genes.

• When he comes to the conclusion that it will in fact bond with your genes, he feels as if a weight is lifted off his chest...

• Now he's just got to figure out how to convince you to take it.

• If push comes to shove... He might just inject you against your will.

• If that's the case, he will do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness, and make you understand that this was for the best.

• Wesker would burn a thousand world's to protect you okay. He'd abandon everything he's worked for, if it meant keeping you safe. You are his world, and his one and only.

• He would die for you if he had to, and he will fight to his very last breath to get back to you.

• You literally can have the world on a silver platter. If you want it, simply ask and it's yours.

• Money, power, jewelry, clothes, his attention, hell you simply want food? Weskers gonna pull out all the stops, and make you an amazing dinner.

• Can't bring yourself to ask for what you want, and you'd rather leave hints? No worries Wesker can read you like an open book, consider it yours already love.

• On that note. Wesker is an amazing cook, like seriously good. You'd think he took culinary classes before he got into working for Umbrella. In reality it's just a natural skill he was practically born with.

• He makes cooking complex meals look easy, and to him it is easy, second nature really. And he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy cooking for you, doing anything that makes you happy, makes him happy in return.

• You're also the only person that can get him to open up and talk more. Something's he won't tell you about from his past, but those things he claims are better left in the past.

• Wesker loves reading to you, but he also loves listening to you read to him as well. And when you both wanna read your own books, curling up and spending the evening together reading quietly is perfect to.

• You make him so unlike himself at times. Sometimes even he wonders how you have such an effect on him. Not that he's complaining, he loves it in fact, it goes to show how special you really are.

• If you ever want to just go and get out of the infamous bunker, simply exploring what's left of the outside world. Wesker will let you, he knows you can look after yourself.

• But is he back at the bunker pacing back and forth like crazy? Yeah he totally is... For about 20-25 minutes before he decides he can't handle not knowing, and he goes after you.

• However he won't let you know he's there, he'll simply shadow you unless you really need him. He just needs to be certain you're okay, infected or not he still worries.

• He definitely teaches you how to fight. Hand to hand combat of course, but along with teaching you how to use just about any weapon he can get his hands on... Which is a lot.

• He'll teach you how to drive if you never learned, how to operate a helicopter, small plane, and even a fucking tank just in case.

• Don't know how to swim? No worries love, Wesker will take however long necessary to teach you. Don't have great endurance? He's got you covered.

• He's actually a very good teacher. He pushes you, but he never pushes you to far. He's fair. And he's driven to help you, become an even more amazing you. He's very patient, and very encouraging.

• Wesker loves everything about you. Anything you consider a flaw, he considers incredible. His praise is through the roof. He practically worships the very ground you walk on.

• As stated before Wesker can read you like an open book. So whenever you're scared, he's there to comfort you. Or if you're stressed, he's happy to draw you a warm bath.

• Maybe you're just tired? You know the kinda tired no amount of sleep can fix. Well he's there for you, holding you, letting you rest, and assuring you that he loves you.

• Despite how incredible he is, and how mush pride he has. Sometimes he can't help but feel a bit insecure at times. Are you afraid of his eyes? Of him perhaps? Will you grow bored of him and leave? Is he worthy of you?

• It's rare that these thoughts occur, let alone bother him. But sometimes late at night, while holding you in his arms, he can't help but wonder.

• He pushes those thoughts away, and the following morning you always manage to unknowingly, reassure him that he has nothing to worry about.

• Arguments with Wesker are pretty seldom. When it does happen, typically it's you hollering at him, and him sitting there silently waiting for you to calm down.

• He has raised his voice to you once, but it was brief, and he apologized almost immediately. The only reason he raised his voice, was because he was worried when you did something extremely reckless.

• Wesker is extremely patient, and understanding with you. He knows sometimes you're not quite yourself, whether it's because you're tired, you're hurting, or simply overwhelmed with something.

• If something is bothering you, but you don't want to talk about it. He'll quietly scoop you up into his arms, take you to bed or nearest couch, and simply lay down with you atop him. Petting your hair and simply letting you relax.

• He's seen you cry many times, and he's never once thought poorly of you for it. He knows you've been through a lot, and adapting to this new world isn't easy for you.

• You've seen him cry once. There was an accident while exploring the outside world, and Wesker thought he'd lost you, that he'd failed you, and you'd paid the ultimate price.

• Even as he looked up at you from his position on his knees, tears continued to roll silently down his pale cheeks. You were alive and well, but he was so close to losing you.

• You held him in your arms, and simply let him get it all out in silence. His strong frame, typically as unfazed as a brick wall, shaking as his heart wretched in his chest.

• He'd never known pain like that before, and he was grateful you didn't think any less of him for it. Hell it brought you both closer together, and strengthened your bond in ways he had never considered before.

• Wesker encourages every one of your hobbies, even if it's something he doesn't quite see the appeal of. It makes you happy, and that's good enough for him. He'll find you supplies whenever he leaves the bunker, and really anything he thinks you might like.

• The beginning of your relationship was odd. Before you started dating, Wesker would follow you around like a grumpy cat. Acting like you mean nothing to him, but always insisting on being near you.

• Actually there are a lot of reasons you could compare Wesker to a cat. And if you ever tell him that he denies it admittedly, all the while practically purring as you toy with his hair absentmindedly.

• He'll literally be staring at you without his sunglasses, and his slit pupils are now wide and round. And the moment his attention is drawn elsewhere they shift back into thin slits.

• Wesker has a secret sweet tooth, and again if he's called out on it, he'll deny it to hell and back. Even if he has a sweet in his hand, or even his mouth. You can't prove anything!

• Will definitely steal food from you just to tease you, a playful smile on his face the entire time. Actually he steals all sorts of stuff from you just to taunt you, and he absolutely loves it when you chase after him trying to get it back.

• Will he use his power to speed away? Possibly. But he honestly enjoys letting you think you can really catch him.

• Aka he enjoys playing cat and mouse, but you never know who's the cat, and who's the mouse until the cat gives chase.

• All in all he loves you with every fiber of his being, and he would follow you anywhere, and do anything for you. It doesn't matter what you might say or do at times, you are his everything.

NSFW

• Oh and before you ask, yes the cat and mouse play, is something that occurs in the bedroom. And again it varies on who's the cat and mouse depending on yours and his mood.

• Wesker enjoys all sorts of role playing. Acting like he's the STARS Captain, that needs to do whatever it takes to get you to confess to a crime. Being the good doctor who must cure your mysterious illness.

• And even acting as if the virus has altered his mind, and made him into a mindless sex crazed beast. He especially enjoys this one, because it plays into his breeding kink.

• This man wants to breed you so so bad. It's partly a side effect of the virus, but he's always had an interest in it long before he injected himself. Now with you as his love, he feels as if he needs to breed.

• Rough sex, slow sex, quickies, you name it he wants it. His sex drive is high now that you're together, but he is very patient if you don't want sex as much as him.

• Wesker is incredibly romantic, and he loves spoiling you. He's a giver through and through. So that being said if he could live the rest of his life, with his face buried between your thighs he would.

• Oral is a must anyhow. Wesker is big, he's well aware of this fact, and he doesn't want to hurt you. So he'll spend at least a half hour between your legs just prepping you.

• And boy does he know what he's doing. You often loose count of how many orgasms he pulls from you.

• From base to tip he is roughly 7.9 inches long, and 2.1 inches wide. The tip is very prominent, and he is surprisingly uncircumcised. His cock also leans a little to the left when hard.

• His cock is a pale as the rest of his body, but when he's hard the head gets very pink. He has two very prominent veins that feel absolutely divine.

• Wesker loves cockwarming so much, sometimes he insists on sleeping with his cock still buried in your heat. But his favorite time is when you're sitting together reading.

• He's such a tease when you're cockwarming. Giving the occasional thrust just to hear you whine needily. He will pump load after load into you, and keep you plugged up with his dick, even if you are sensitive.

• Aftercare King GOD! He will massage your sore muscles, clean you up, run you a soothing bath, bring you a snack and plenty of water or maybe some soothing tea. He'll whisper sweet nothing's into your ear, praise you, and remind you of how much he truly loves you.

• You just wanna cuddle afterwards? Perfect it'll give it time for his seed to work its way deeper. Want a bath or shower immediately after? That's okay too, he'll change the sheets while you do so, then join you once he's done.

• You can always tell when he's horny, not only by the way he'll paw at you, or the evident bulge in his pants. But also because his eyes glow exceptionally bright, and the slits of his eyes are wide.

• He sounds like a beast as he nuzzles into you, growling and purring as he tries to coax you into helping him out.

• That being said Wesker is very vocal. He moans, growls, purrs, and spews praise the entire time. He isn't super loud about it, as he prefers to have his face buried in your neck, but sometimes he will get a bit loud. Typically that's when he's really needy.

• When he's extra needy, he whimpers so much. It's so fucking hot when you get him all worked up like that. Making him weak and needy, whimpering and begging you for his release. It's divine, and makes you feel so very powerful.

• He loves loves loves making you loud as fuck. His goal is to make your voice horse by the time he's done. Especially if others might be around. He needs them to know who you belong to, and ensure no one is dumb enough to try anything.

• Wesker takes so much pleasure in fucking you dumb. And when you get cock drunk, he's so fucking proud. He will make an absolute mess out of you, and then praise you for being so good for him.

• There are very few things he isn't willing to try with you. He isn't willing to share you with anyone... With the exception of a clone of himself... He will fuck you roughly, but he doesn't take it to far considering his strength, and the amount of damage he can inflict with little effort.

• He does enjoy bondage, both for you and himself. And yeah he could break out of his binds very easily, but why would he, he's enjoying you taking control, and using him for your pleasure. His favorite technique of binding you is with a straitjacket, and it plays into some of his favorite role playing stories.

• Wesker will fuck you anywhere at any given time, seriously he has no shame, just ask and he is yours. That's not to say he won't kill anyone for interrupting or catching you. Your pussy is for his eyes only.

• While he loves pumping you full of his cum, he will never pass up an opportunity to cum on your tits. Especially if you beg for it so sweetly, I mean he loves fucking your tits anyhow. So if you want him to paint your breasts with his cum, who is he to deny you?

• But if you don't ask him to cover you in his cum, or cum in your mouth. Wesker is gonna stuff you with his cock and finish in your warm cunt. Even if he only gets the tip in before he starts to unload, as long as he's inside your heat he's satisfied.

• That isn't to say he won't make you eat his cum. His favorite way of doing that, is to cum inside your pussy, finger you until you cum, and make you suck on his sopping fingers. Sometimes with his gloves on, because he knows you love the leather.

• If you're together before being locked up in the bunker, Wesker is not above letting you suck his cock at his desk. In STARS or Umbrella, he is yours to do with as you please. And if he can return the favor while you're at work, he's more than happy to.

• Wesker also loves seeing you wearing his clothes so much, that it often gets him all hot and bothered, and he's on you real quick like.

• When you inevitably fall pregnant, Wesker is the first to know. He knows before you know. He could sense the changes to your body, and eventually he could hear the extra heartbeat.

• But he'll wait for you to figure it out, and come to him. And like a good lover, he'll act surprised by the news, because he knows it'll make you happy.

• He praises every change your body goes through, some of which he seriously adores. Like how your hips widen a bit, and your breasts swell with milk for the babe.

• He will pamper you 1,000% more than he already did, waking you up most days with his tongue buried in your sweet pussy. And when your breasts grow heavy and sore, he's there to relieve the pain.

• Lactation kink unlocked!

• Initially it started with him massaging your sore breasts, but as he watched milk bead from your tender nipple, he instinctively licked it clean.

• You moaned, he growled. And within seconds your nipple was in his hot greedy mouth. Wesker groaned at the taste of your milk, tweaking your other nipple until it began leaking.

• He played with the milk for a moment before swapping breasts. Back and forth he went until he was satisfied, and the pressure in your breasts had subsidied.

• He kissed you hungrily afterwards, letting you taste your own milk. Before kissing his way down your body until he reached your sex, eating you out as if he were starved.

• Wesker fucking loves pregnancy sex. He loves holding your swollen belly as he makes slow sensual love to you. He loves how extra responsive you are, and how extra sensitive your body is.

• He is very attentive and will help you in the shower or bath, and when your all cleaned up, he can't help himself and he will finger you to climax.

• And when it gets to hard to shave yourself, Wesker is happy to lend a helping hand. Which unsurprisingly ends with him licking your pussy.

• Forgot to mention it before, but Wesker enjoys eating pussy very messily. It's so obscene the sounds he makes as he licks and slurps at your sex, growling and moaning as he dose so.

• The sounds are so obscene you often find yourself blushing like crazy. Even though you tend to suck his cock all noisily as well, something he takes great pleasure in of course.

• Wesker loves having you ride his face, when you're pregnant and when you're not. Don't worry you can't hurt him, so grind away. He'll keep a firm unrelenting hold of your hips, so you don't gotta worry about falling or anything like that.

• Once your child is born, Wesker is eager to get you pregnant again, after you've healed up of course. Although if you would rather wait a while, he'll comply to your request.

• So he'll cum on your belly, on your tits, your butt, your back, or down your throat. Wherever you want really. But he will beg you to let him breed you again, eventually. He can't help it, he needs to breed you.

• If you downright refuse, then he's gonna get you into anal if you aren't already. So he can atleast cum in your ass if you won't let him cum in your pussy anymore. But again he will still try to convince you at some point to let him cum in your pussy again.

• He needs it, don't be mean.

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Movie Wesker is a dreamboat okay! I freaking love Shawn Roberts, and he looked so good as Wesker.

[frvnkcastles]

Hiiii, can I request Imagine reader using herself as a human shield for frank when someone tries to take a cheap shot at him during a mission and after he makes sure there both out of harms way he flips out on her(Which he later regrets and apologizes for)

A HANDSHAKE WITH DEATH ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You save Frank from getting shot, and he isn’t happy.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, Frank is a little mean, feminine nicknames, a very very small reference to sex

Word count: 2k

Author’s note: This one was so much fun to write, I hope it’s to your liking!! Also, side note, thank you all so much for almost 800 followers <3 It makes me so happy that I’ve managed to create a safe space for so many of you! (Ps. that pic is one of my all-time favorite Frank shots, I can’t believe he looks so good covered in blood????)

Frank always protected you. He wouldn’t have hesitated to throw his own life on the line for your sake, and he had proven so countless times before — the man was already scarred, but in an attempt to keep you safe, he had endured endless pain and been on the receiving end of a knife or a gun more than you would have liked him to. But to him, it was non-negotiable, it was a given. He wasn’t willing to lose you or even see you get bruised, not on his watch, and it was something he didn’t make exceptions on.

To you, it felt like you owed him the same. He was always in dangerous situations, and more often than not, he was the target of the vicious people you faced, so you had an advantage in going unnoticed. You knew he really, really couldn’t handle another loss, but that didn’t mean you were any more open to the thought of losing him, either. So, if only you were able to do so, you were going to protect him, too.

It had taken some debating to get him to agree to let you help with his nightly activities, and you couldn’t blame him. You were willingly going to put yourself in harm’s way, but you felt like you could really contribute something valuable and help, with your knowledge of guns and your fair share of training in hand-to-hand combat. Still, even though you mentioned all this to him, he hadn’t been very open to the idea. It wasn’t until you insisted that you’d go with or without him that he cut his losses and agreed to take you as a teammate on missions.

And that was how you ended up in some shady warehouse that Frank had learned was going to be the grounds for trading illegal weapons.

You were crouched behind a shelf, trying to catch your breath and shake off the kick you had gotten on your ribs right before successfully hiding from the remaining goons. Frank had gunned down most of them, with you working as an effective distraction or temporarily incapacitating them with your fists. You were more than capable of using a gun, but you knew Frank liked to finish the job himself — even if he did secretly enjoy the sight of you taking charge a whole lot.

Another gunshot echoed through the building and you peeked around the corner, seeing Frank pressing his boot on the chest of his latest victim. The sight made you smile proudly, and when you deemed it safe to get up, you did exactly that and strode over to Frank who was breathing raggedly, blood staining his sharp features. He had never looked more handsome, and you couldn’t wait until you’d get home and unpack all the adrenaline together.

The one last armed man in the warehouse had a different plan for you. He came up from behind Frank, and you reacted quickly, jumping to shield him. ”Watch out!” you yelped, and Frank instantly turned to catch the man behind him, but not before the goon had already fired his gun. You managed to protect your boyfriend, the bullet scraping your arm and making you cry out, and as you bent over in pain, Frank shot the man right in the head. As he fell to his death, Frank grabbed you, holding you upright, eyes wide with concern.

”What were you thinking?” he fumed, frustration obvious in his voice. Before you could answer or he could reprimand you further, you heard sirens approaching the warehouse, so Frank put his anger on hold until you were both out of the cops’ sight.

He wrapped an arm around you and led you to his truck, clenching his jaw while you winced and whimpered. Blood was trickling down your arm and you felt a little nauseous — funnily enough, it was never any problem when Frank was covered in blood, but this was your first time getting shot and you didn’t know how to handle it.

From the looks of it, Frank didn’t know, either, constantly eyeing you but remaining completely silent as he started the car and drove you home. You felt the tension in the air, it was impossible not to, and you knew you were going to hear about the move you had pulled all night long. Still, you didn’t regret it in the slightest, painfully aware that the bullet could have hit Frank right in the chest if you hadn’t intervened.

When you arrived at home, Frank curtly gestured at the bathroom door. ”Gonna get you cleaned up”, he announced, short and to the point, and shrinking under his menacing frame, you trailed over to the bathroom and sat yourself on the toilet.

Frank dug out the first-aid kit while you struggled to get your shirt off, and once you were left in just your bra, his eyes didn’t even glance at your chest. His face was a blank slate, and it was making you so nervous.

Sighing, he examined the wound, licking his lips before pulling back. ”Gotta stitch you up. You’re lucky the bullet just grazed you”, he explained while taking out some thread and a needle, setting them aside so he could disinfect the wound first. When you hissed at the sting of the disinfectant, he just snorted.

”Earned it.”

With a loud scoff, you gave him a look. ”What did you expect me to do? I wasn’t gonna let you get shot. I’m not sorry about what I did. In fact, I’d do it again in a heartbeat”, you ranted, standing your ground defiantly. Maybe you were being a little stubborn about it, but to you, it had been a no-brainer. Just like he’d sacrifice himself for you, you’d do the same for him, any day of the week.

”It was stupid. I told you, I’m not messin’ around when it comes to your safety. You should never throw yourself in front of me like that. You better not pull shit like that again”, he gritted his teeth, avoiding your gaze as he started to stitch you up. The feeling of the needle piercing your skin got a weak sound from you, and you closed your eyes to avoid looking at Frank’s fingers expertly working the wound. Despite his frustration with you, he was being as gentle as he could, and it spoke in volumes about how he was really feeling — sure, on the outside, he seemed furious, but on the inside, he was just scared.

”So, I should have just let you die?” you retorted, and sucking in a sharp breath, Frank narrowed his eyes, a sign of concentration but annoyance, all the same.

”You dunno that I woulda died. Regardless, it ain’t somethin’ I want you to do for me. Rather me than you”, he insisted, and opening your eyes, you directed him the most disbelieving stare you could muster.

”You have to be joking. So, you refuse to watch me get hurt, but I have to tolerate you dying? That’s not fair”, you argued, trying to catch his gaze, but he wouldn’t meet you halfway. Instead, he was laser-focused on your shoulder, his thick fingers coated in blood as he did the stitches as thoroughly as he could.

You attempted to add something, but he didn’t let you. Instead, finished with the stitches, he tossed the bloody needle into the kit and stood up, huffing and puffing. ”You ain’t hearin’ me. I’m not debatin’ this. Either you promise to never do somethin’ like that again or I ain’t takin’ you with me next time”, he stated sharply, demanding and solemn as he finally looked at you. It was only for a fleeting moment, though, and he quickly turned on his heel and stomped out of the bathroom.

With your mouth hanging open, you listened to him storm out the front door and slam it shut behind him. The sound made you flinch, and with your lip wobbling, you looked down at your shoulder and shivered when your tears fell on the stained skin. Left alone, you cried quietly, your arm aching and your heart even more so.

It was getting late, and you didn’t think waiting up for Frank was a good idea. When you got in your bed, though, sleep refused to come. You couldn’t help but wonder where he was and when he’d come back, anxiety and regret brewing inside you — not regret for getting shot on his behalf, but regret for not hearing him out. You tossed and turned, restless and uneasy, and you knew it was a problem only he could solve.

The clock on your bedside table read 3:30 when the front door opened again, and you burrowed deeper into the mattress, the covers pulled all the way up to your ears. You were happy he was home, but it didn’t mean you were going to roll over and beg for forgiveness. Instead, you laid on your side, listening intently as he left his boots by the door, washed his hands in the bathroom and then came to the bedroom to undress.

You couldn’t deny the surge of love that kicked you in the chest when the bed dipped behind you and his scent infiltrated your senses. Carefully, he snuck an arm around your waist, and before you knew it, his lips were right by your ear and his hot breath lingering down your neck.

”Sweetheart…”, he started, sending a shiver down your spine. His voice was low, so low, and the impact it had on you was immediate. ”I’m sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have been such an asshole to you. I talked to Curtis and… he made me realize I need to do some grovelin’ right now”, he went on, and even though you kept your back turned to him, you couldn’t help but break into a smile.

”I just wanted to protect you”, you whispered, and sighing, Frank dropped his forehead to your exposed back.

”I know, sweet girl. You did real good. Just scared the shit outta me, y’know?” he grumbled, the nervousness audible in his voice. Finally, you rolled onto your back, facing him in the darkness, the moon outside illuminating his face and the cuts he had received during the fight at the warehouse. With a tender touch, you reached for his cheek, caressing it and frowning as you processed his words.

”I didn’t mean to scare you. But you can’t expect me to stand aside while people hurt you”, you pointed out, and with a defeated look, he nodded.

”I dunno how to do this, sweetheart. I trust you, I do, but I—I’m so fuckin’ scared of losin’ you. It’d be the final nail in my coffin. I need you safe and it drives me crazy when you don’t feel the same way about yourself”, he elaborated, his eyebrows knitted together and gaze cast down as he shared. ”I know you’re just tryin’ to help, so I shoulda been nicer about it”, he admitted, earning a small smile from you.

”Yeah, you should have”, you agreed before pulling him down for a kiss, your lips locking together passionately, all the pent-up worry and fear channeled into it. He cared about you so deeply, and with that kiss, he tried to let you know, his large hand coming to your cheek to hold you close as he kissed the air out of your lungs.

”Just… promise me you’ll try to be more careful, yeah?” Frank pleaded after breaking the contact, and slowly, you nodded.

”I’ll try”, you gave in, and in an instant, Frank smiled — a sight you would have promised anything for. You knew he just wanted to keep you safe, that it was coming from a place of love, but you weren’t quite sure he knew just how much you loved him, in return.

”How’s your shoulder?” Frank asked then, settling down on the bed and propping himself up on his elbow to watch you closely.

You rolled onto your stomach and jutted your injured shoulder out toward him. ”I think you should kiss it better”, you theorized with a contemplative tone, and in response, Frank laughed out loud.

”You got it, baby.”

[void-star]

I'm starting to get the impression that people don't actually know what a trauma trigger is or how to identify them.

It is not feeling uncomfortable or disgusted with a concept or subject.

It is an activation of your sympathetic nervous system (activates fight or flight) over things your brain has associated strongly with a traumatic event.

The things your brain associates with the traumatic event don't always have to make sense: it can be as innocuous as a certain song/ringtone or notes from a cologne/perfume, or as direct and obvious as the sight of a weapon.

The important thing here is that it's a moderate to severe body experience in response to something that is not immediately dangerous to you and reminds you of a traumatic experience you have had in some way.

When you know and understand this, you can start to catch the physiological signs of the activation of your sympathetic nervous system. It's helpful to recognize both to calm your body down when you're not in immediate danger, and to recognize how this activation can affect other areas of your life.

I say that last part because it shuts down a lot of cognition, makes you stop thinking clearly, because it serves the purpose of trying to get you immediately out of danger.

My therapist still does a kind of explicit mirroring with me a lot, where rather than focusing on the thoughts and the fear that's on the surface, she brings my attention to my body: tightness in muscles, narrowing of vision, increased awareness of sounds/smells, constriction of the chest.

I bring this up because, first of all, it seems like some people use "trigger" to by synonymous with feeling uncomfortable or disgusted, to ride on your concern for their wellbeing in order to control your behavior. I don't like that.

Second of all, it also seems like other people are focusing on the occurrence of a trigger as a hallmark of something being harmful. Like once you're triggered, you're hurt and damaged yet again, and there's no coming back from that.

This is both untrue and disingenuous. I don't think it's particularly useful for trauma survivors. It's important to recognize that triggers are the residual effects of the things that harmed us that we couldn't do anything about. Triggers are manageable and they are not an indication that you're being harmed again. They are the body's memory of the harm, and its commitment to preventing you from being harmed again by latching onto a pattern it thinks will help you be safe if there's a next time.

You HAVE to learn to rationalize this if you want to feel safer, more comfortable, and in control of your world. You deserve that.

You don't deserve to sit inside of the intense fear and lack of understanding that comes with not investigating your own experience, or the way it can box you in to see danger and harm and abuse all around you.

And if you don't learn that, you're going to end up believing the only thing that can keep you safe is the elimination of everything that reminds you of what you went through... which is harmful to other people.

[sorcerous-caress]

I would like to maybe request the different BG3 party members finding out a Tav with a tough guy act was secretly ticklish? Just fluff all around

Finding out you're ticklish

[ fluff, nb!Reader, several characters ]

[ reader is a tough cold badass person ]

Karlach

Absolutely abuses it.

She has been trying to get you to loosen up for a while. As cool and badass she thought you were, she was sure there was a fun side to you.

Took it very personally to try to get you to laugh, bad puns, slipping on a banana peel, and even asking Gale to borrow one of his nerdy type jokes. Alas, you were as expressive as a stone wall.

Just when she was about to give up, she thought "ah what the hell?" and just went for it, full on tickling your sides. Worst case scenario, she will get put on clean duty again.

Imagine her surprise when you started cackling up. Pure sincere laughter coming from your own lips, very contagious too. She found herself laughing along as she kept denying your attempts to push her away.

Now she has a secret weapon, one she plans to use at whichever chance she gets.

Gale

Very amused.

Ah, how the tables have turned. You know he did have a theory on your aversion to touch and the distance you keep from others, and this was the most pleasant of outcomes.

"Accidentally" brushes against your ticklish spots, claims absolute innocence each time. Batting his eyelashes as he swears ignorance.

He'd have prefered a more subtle method than Karlach's, but really, who is he to say? Maybe he could learn a thing or two from her, that sometimes the easiest way is the best answer to a problem.

Shadowheart

Teases you about it.

She threatens to do it in her "maybe I'm joking, maybe not" way. Does she ever do it? Who knows.

But mostly, she can relate to you. She gets teased about her fear of wolves a lot, so she understands if you want her to drop the topic.

Wyll

Defends you.

He was always the kid in the playground who'd chase bullies away, and while this is a more light-hearted teasing between friends things, he will still defend you from Karlach surprise attacks.

You're safe next to him, don't worry, he will never use your weakness against you no matter how tempting it is to get this tough ice cold person to fall into a pit of laughter.

Those aren't his thoughts, just the devil's on his shoulder.

Laezel

Doesn't get it.

What do you mean ticklish? What even is that.

Gith don't really get tickled. Their skin doesn't allow it much. She is a bit fascinated and curious about it. After all, it must be a great weapon if it reduced a formidable person like you into a jumpy offbalance prey.

Yes, she will keep it in mind if she needs to take you down one day. It is the excuse she allows herself on why she keeps staring at you whenever you laugh.

Minthara

While Wyll will attempt to defend you, Minthara doesn't even have to try.

If everyone in here wants to keep their throat unslited, they better not even think to place their grubby hands near you.

Says she did use it as a form of torture in interrogations before. It wasn't very effective since the target would end up incomprehensible.

Astarion

HA

HA HA HA

you poor thing.

His bullying puts Shadowheart's light hearted teasing to shame, he WILL fully throw digs at you every chance he gets.

Brings it up always, asks if you're at risk of falling prone to laughter because your shirt's fabric was too soft. Jokes about how feathers must be knives to you huh.

He isn't big on touching, so your physical body will remain safe. Your mentality, however, is a different case.

Halsin

He is too, very ticklish. How did he get people to stop bringing it up? Simple, turn into a gaint bear.

It's not so fun watching someone fall on you from laughter when it's a gaint cave bear with rows of sharp teeth.

But really, it's not so bad. And here he will help you practice your bear exaggerated laughter to make your teeth look sharper.

[howtofightwrite]

Just a casual question: What lightsaber style do you prefer out of one-handed, two-handed, double-bladed or dual wielding?

We’ll leave out the Lightsaber Forms from the EU, because they are inconsistently defined between sources.

No, no, no. You ask me what my favorite lightsaber is, you get the answer whether you want it or not. The answer may surprise you. It’s (probably) considered the second dumbest lightsaber weapon ever invented in the extended universe with the exception of the lightsaber nunchaku.

Are you ready? Do you have your guesses?

The Lightwhip.

The chosen weapon of Dark Ladies of the Sith and the Nightsisters of Dathomir back when the Sisters weren’t all dark side practitioners and rode rancors.

(This is my favorite. For reference, Starke’s favorite is single blade Form IV: Ataru. He’s boring.)

Now, I agree with the general fandom that the lightwhip is a dumb, impractical weapon that’s more likely to dismember its wielder than it is their opponent. Only someone with a high level of skill, prescience, and telekinesis could make effective use of a lightwhip’s dismemberment murder frenzy without killing themselves. Fortunately, that’s exactly the base level of skills most Force sensitives possess. Probably most important, the lightwhip is the exact sort of dumb we see with real weapons in the real world. This includes the more wild examples like the urumi, the chain whip, and the three-section staff. And, it should be said, I have watched living black belts concuss themselves with the three-section staff while trying to figure out how to use it. All for the Rule of Cool. So, while I accept its impracticality, I refuse the argument that the lightwhip being any more unrealistic in use or invention than the rest of the lightsaber weapon family. Does it have a high skill floor? Absolutely. Is it a safe weapon compared to the rest of its very dangerous family? Absolutely not. Would a student potentially dismember or murder themselves learning to use it? Yes, and that’s why it’s fun. (I’ll add a small caveat that the average student could also dismember themselves with a normal lightsaber, so this isn’t just a danger posed by the lightwhip.)

The lightwhip is a weapon of the Dark Side. Its battle style would be (and should be) wild, chaotic, and nigh uncontrollable. There’s no way to use it safely and it belongs in the hands of a wielder who is straight up thrilled to cut down both their allies and enemies in equal measure. This is the weapon of a murderous lunatic in black leather, and gets even more wild when it switches to a Cat o’ Nine to bring on nine weaving laser tendrils instead of just one. The lightwhip is the sexy Catwoman reference that transcends its genre when we really start to think about how intimidating it’d be to see that thing on the battlefield in the hands of a novice and, especially, an expert.

The standard use for a whip in the real world is as a support tool for your primary weapon, such as a rapier. The whip doesn’t do much damage on its own, leaving only small, painful cuts and lacerations so it transitions into a means of harassment. The advantage of the whip is that it attacks at odd, circular angles which are difficult (if not impossible) to block and will curve into a strike around the opposing weapon. The rippling movement makes it difficult to see and even more difficult to predict. If kept in constant motion, this difficulty triples because the disparate movements blend together.

Now, take this setup and add the lightshow. Instead of a weapon that does light lacerations, we have a weapon that deals massive burns if it doesn’t straight up dismember. It will cut through everything and everyone. Conventional fighting styles fall apart against it. More importantly, because it is a burning plasma ribbon, it doesn’t need to follow the standard rules of physics. The lightwhip is beautiful in its raw, chaotic brutality, it’s high risk, high reward nature, and I love the way it hard counters the standard philosophy of lightsaber combat with a literal curveball. Any opponent who faces it is forced into new, creative approaches for their very survival.

Lastly, I love what the lightwhip says about its wielder as an expression of their vicious, ferocious, highly aggressive personality. This weapon requires commitment and dedication. It’s absolutely fair to say the person who wields a lightwhip has a fanatical, if not suicidal, bent. After all, they’d willingly risk death to master it. They love destruction. They don’t care about outside consequences or property destruction. They go it alone.

I’ll admit the lightwhip’s true potential is too violent for most of Star Wars and, like most Star Wars weapons, it very much lives on the Rule of Cool. One of the sadder aspects with the lightwhip is that, while I love the weapon and its potential, any discussion of it gets mired in sexism. Every appearance of the lightwhip comes with the sexy NSFW Dark Side Dominatrix bent and leads to the lightwhip not being given the consideration it’s potential deserves.

My favorite saber is Darth Maul’s saber staff from The Phantom Menace, because versatility allows for use of both one and two. My favorite lightsaber form (which should now surprise no one) is Form VII: Vaapad.

All that said, I do enjoy a good Dark Side Dominatrix as much as I enjoy a moody and hooded Dark Side Goth. And I genuinely love dumb and, seemingly, impractical weapons when the reward justifies their risk. If there’s a general writing advice takeaway here, always consider the practicality of an impractical but cool weapon, address i’s rewards as well as its risks, and pair it with a suitable personality. The lightwhip is not a weapon that belongs in the hands of a Jedi or, really, any individual who possesses any degree of restraint. It’s for a character who merrily expresses raw, raging power at every opportunity and willing to risk destroying themselves along with everyone else for victory.

There’s a weird angle with the Star Wars EU where they tried to establish the lightwhip as weaker than the lightsaber (*cough* woman’s weapon *cough*) with less cutting power even when it doesn’t use a physical cord, which makes absolutely no sense. The lightsaber is the more versatile weapon, while the lightwhip is more specialized and circumstantial. Which fits with the patterns of real world weapons technology.

This a long circle round to saying that the weapons we choose for our characters act as personality tells. Which is why it’s important to give a lot of thought and consideration to any weapon’s historic use and purpose before attaching it. Weapons communicate more than we might expect, both via their situational viability and associated cultural myths. It’s important to choose whether you’ll address this, especially if you’re not planning to intentionally communicate that message or make those personality traits part of the character’s identity. Weapons are tools and, like with all tools, different tools attract different personalities. In fiction, we the authors often decide this from an external perspective. Once a choice has been made, always give yourself a chance to think about it from a character’s internal perspective. Why did Character X choose this weapon? Why do they want to use it? What does this weapon do for them that another weapon doesn’t? Or, what makes that other weapon less attractive?

You might find yourself with an answer or story beat you hadn’t previously considered.

Food for thought.

-Michi

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[kittyoncescribbled]

Check-Mate, part 4.

Summary: Mihawk thought he was too old to believe in silly things like love at first sight, but things change;

Word count: 2,624;

Rating/Content Warnings: PG-16, fem reader;

Author’s note: -

Previous chapter || Next chapter

Mihawk learned to loathe the silence; when he got up early, he craved the little noises that you would make around the house: the shower running, you rummaging through your things, the little tunes you would hum to yourself while getting ready for the day. The way you always had coffee in his cup when he entered the kitchen, or how you kept a mental note of his favorite dishes and cooked them quite frequently.

He realized this wasn’t like him, as someone who looked for peace and balance. That morning, he was still in his quarters, fresh from the shower and with shaving cream along his face and neck, while he reflected on the small changes he had made in his routine and preferences to accommodate you. The truth is that he didn’t mind it one bit and was happy to concede to you, but after so much time being used to having other people bend to his will, it felt strange to be wrapped around your finger.

His train of thought was interrupted by a blood-curdling scream coming from the kitchen.

Without thinking twice, Mihawk ran downstairs, grabbing the closest thing he could find — a small dagger — and busted into the kitchen, looking for the one person who had the audacity to enter his home.

You were kneeling close to the fridge, holding on to a spatula for dear life while shaking and silently weeping, while Shanks and Beckman stood in the middle of the room, both confused and surprised; Shanks was closer to you, halfway down to a kneeled position and reaching out to you so as to try to calm you down without actually touching you while Beckman stood back, flabbergasted. Mihalk could feel the beginning of a migraine coming, which only happened whenever he saw Shank’s face, but he merely lowered his weapon and came close to you, putting you back on your feet. “Come on, Y/N, it’s fine. Shanks and Beckman are not welcome, but they are not going to hurt you either.”  Your skin felt cold and clammy through the thin material of your clothes, and you still had your spatula held tight against your chest as if that was the thing that would keep you safe. “Sorry girl, wasn’t trying to scare anyone,” Shanks said while rubbing his neck, “We’re just not used to Hawkeye having company, so we weren’t expecting to see anyone else around here. But not gonna lie, it was almost worth scaring you so we could see Hawkeye with shaving cream all over his face.”

You wiped the tears away with the back of your hand and giggled while Mihawk could feel his irritation growing. “I am going back upstairs; I will be back in a moment.” Mihawk turned around and went back to his quarters so he could clean himself up and get his annoyance under control — which did take him a while. As much as he respected Shanks for the pirate he way, there was no denying that the redheaded had a knack for getting under his skin.

When he got back into the kitchen, you had already whipped a full-on breakfast feast for the two pirates: a pile of pancakes topped with berries and drizzled with honey, bacon, eggs, orange juice, and jam jars were spread on the kitchen table, and you were sitting between the two men while Mihawk’s cup, unattended, was close to the coffee pot. Shanks had his mouth half-full telling you a story while Beckman drank a cup of juice, and you listened closely to whatever Red was saying. Mihawk had no clue how you made yourself so comfortable around Shanks in such little time, but that was the effect he had on people; while Mihawk imposed respect with his mere presence, many were fooled by Shanks' relaxed and laid-back posture, unaware of how dangerous he could be.

Pouring himself some coffee, Mihawk stood back while admiring the scene unfolding at his own kitchen table: you, in your yellow summer dress, and your hair falling down your shoulders, giggling and blushing while Shanks had his arm around your chair. Mihawk turned his back to the both of you as he could feel his eye twitch out of annoyance, and his jaw started to hurt from clenching it too much. When Mihawk turned back again, he saw Shanks fishing a piece of pancake out of your dish and using it to spoon some extra honey and, for some reason, that was the straw that broke the camel's back.

“Alright, I think that is enough. Darling,” he said, guiding you up from your chair and directing you to the back door with one hand on your small back while handing you your plate with the other, “would you mind having breakfast in the garden while I talk with Shanks and his man?” Without really having an option, you grabbed your glass, took your plate, and went out to leave the men to discuss their business amongst themselves.

Shanks watched you leave and looked up to Mihawk, who was still standing. “A princess, Hawkeye? Well, I never took you for the type to-”

“Shut up, Red. Just say what you came here to say and leave.” Shanks raised his brows and smiled mischievously, popping a blueberry into his mouth. “C'mon, Hawkeye, you have a pretty little thing, a runaway pretty little thing, living with you in this big ass castle, and you don't want us to talk about it?”

“Precisely. She is staying here as bounty hunters knew she would be with the straw hats, and some of them were stupid enough to try kidnapping her from their ship. So if you go around opening that big mouth of yours, you are defeating the whole purpose of Y/N being here.”

“Oh, and that's the only reason why she's here?”

“Why else would she be here, Red?”

“Who posed the idea for her to stay here, Hawkeye?”

Mihawk could feel the vein on his forehead popping, the way only Shanks could do.

“Red, I will not discuss the ins and outs of my arrangement with Y/N. Just say what you came here to say, grab your men and leave.”

“Oh, so we're on a first-name basis, huh? And you called her ‘darling’ before… Nice, nice.” Shanks winked at Mihawk and Beckman snorted and laughed, which just made the swordsman even more annoyed. “But I'm merely here because I need to cross-check some information.”

By the time Shanks came out to the garden to say goodbye, your breakfast was long gone, and you were merely enjoying the view accompanied by Midnight. The pirate sat by your feet in the chaise lounge with a mischievous smile as he could see Mihawk glaring at him through the windows. The swordsman couldn't hear what was being said, but he saw you throwing your head back in laughter, lightly clapping your hands. Even the damned cat was favoring Shanks, as it was now rubbing all over his legs, begging for scritches. Eventually, Shanks got up, and you did as well, hugging him before the red-haired came back inside, where Beckman waited for him. Tapping Mihawk on the shoulder, Shanks signaled to his right-hand man that they were leaving. “We'll stop bothering you for now, Hawkeye. But don't worry, your secret is safe with us.”

Mihawk merely finished his cup of coffee, which had gone cold by this point, and let Shanks and Beckman let themselves out. When you came back to the kitchen, with Midnight held in one hand and balancing your cup on top of your plate in your other hand, he could swear that he could still smell Shanks’ cologne on your, making him involuntarily scrunch up his nose.

“You should have told me about your friends. They're fun!” You said joyfully while starting to clean up the kitchen. “Shanks has a lot of stories, and Beckman is such a nice guy. Too bad my first impression wasn't the best.” Mihawk scoffed an rolled his eyes; like so many people, you weren’t immune to Shanks’ charm.

“They shouldn't be walking into someone's house without making their presence known. They shouldn't have scared you like that.”

“It was a bit embarrassing, wasn't it?”

“It was understandable.”

You smiled at him, still organizing things, pouring more coffee into his cup. “You’re too kind, Mihawk.”

He took a sip of his coffee and thought to himself how to word what he wanted to say. He wasn't the best with words or gestures, but he felt the need to do something.

“Darling, would you mind not being around while I cook dinner tonight? Just be sure to be down at seven.” You looked at him with a worried look on your face; Mihawk thought you looked almost hurt.

“Sure, sure… No problem.” You pressed your lips in a tight smile and grabbed Midnight, about to leave the kitchen.

“Y/N?” Mihawk called, and you stopped, turning around to face him. “Please don’t think there is anything wrong. I am just trying… something different.” You tilted your head while looking at him. “Didn’t take you for someone who would intentionally step out of your routine.”

“Me neither.”

Given that Mihawk seemed to consider that dinner important, you took your time preparing for it. You came down the stairs wearing an off-shoulder black dress paired with black pumps, your hair in an updo, and light makeup. The only piece of jewelry you had was a small golden cross on a thin chain around your necklace.

This was the closest you looked to the picture in your wanted poster and Mihawk stared at you unashamedly while you took a moment to look around the dining room: you had never seen it lit by so many candles, and the flower arrangement in the middle of the table was breathtaking: a mixture calla lilies, pink camellias, gardenias and red roses; You could smell the food and see a very expensive bottle of wine open in the decanter. Mihawk had clearly put a lot of thought into that dinner, and you felt touched by the gesture. Shyly, you walked until you were close to the chair he had pulled out for you and sat down, with the smell of the swordsman's cologne engulfing you like a cloud.

“You really didn't have to do all of this, Mihawk.” You said softly, clutching your hands. “You've done so much for me already, I should be the one doing something like this.”

“Darling, please. I am trying to do something.”

“What is it that you're trying to do?”

He poured you a glass of wine and didn’t respond, simply looking at you. Mihawk admired the blush that slowly crept on your neck and ears; under his intense gaze, you felt like a prey under the scrutiny of a predator, but it didn't make you want to run — in a weird way, it made you want to see what would come next; you didn't feel threatened at all, you felt just the thrill of the chase and desperately wanted to know what would happen next.

Mihawk could sense your eagerness and, smugly, chose to do things even slower: bringing out dinner, he enthralled you into a conversation about nothing of substance — he, who hated small talk, coaxed you into telling him all about your homeland: the food, the people, the clothes, the traditions… he managed to keep you speaking throughout the meal, from entrées to dessert.

As much as he thought he wasn't good when it came to expressing his feelings (and Mihawk would definitely throw himself out of the highest window he could find if anyone ever came close of thinking of him battling his feelings), Mihawk had acts of service as his love language; during the time you two had spent together, he had taken mental notes of the things you liked and disliked, and he made sure to prepare a dinner with all of your favorites.

Still listening attentively to you, Mihawk took you by the hand and guided you to the garden, where his old record player was already set up. An old-timey song played softly, just enough for you to feel the beat and get yourself immersed in the atmosphere — just like Mihawk wanted.

Taking you by the hand, Mihawk started slowly waltzing with you in the garden. You felt your head spinning, breathless, as it was almost too much — the soft lights, the fireflies around, the perfume of the flowers, and the music. He could see that you were almost overwhelmed, your eyes dazed and glossy.

“Can I ask you a question?” you said in a small voice, looking up at him; Mihawk acquiesced with a nod. “You keep calling me darling, but… You had never called me that before today. Why?”

With a deep breath, the swordsman looked up to the night sky, trying to string the words correctly to try and convey exactly what he wanted; even though he was someone who was known for being precise and clear-cut, Mihawk wasn't exactly known for being talkative or expressive - quite the contrary, actually. “Miss Y/N, I do admit that I was intrigued by you since I first saw you; you stood out with the strawhats in such a way that I could not stop myself from gravitating towards you. Of course, by then I already knew some pieces of your story, the little information that had been divulged in the newspapers, but during that game of chess we had, even though we didn't speak much, I felt drawn to you. Asking you to move here was definitely something out of character for me, but the thought of you moving on with the strawhats and getting hurt was unbearable. Having you here was… different. Even though I have had long-term visitors before, having Roronoa and Perona around was similar to living with two toddlers, as they cannot be around each other without bickering; but you made this house into a home, somehow, despite being here for such little time. And earlier today, when I saw you and Shanks… it irritated me. Deeply. Because I don't want to have anyone having that, the domestic feeling that I have with you. Being completely honest, ‘darling’ was more of a warning to Shanks - not that it matters, as he couldn't care less. I just wanted him to leave us alone. I don't want to share you, Y/N.”

You looked at him, big eyes going all over his face, trying to understand the meaning behind his words. Mihawk saw you parting your lips slightly, trying to come up with something to say, but he couldn't resist the urge to slide his hand on your waist up to your nape and better angle your face so he could kiss you.

You gasped, surprised, feeling his beard tickling your face and his breathing against your skin; your pillowy lips, soft and warm, felt heavenly against his own. Closing your eyes, you shyly held onto his collar as Mihawk held you tightly, pressing his body into yours. He could feel how hard and fast your heart was beating as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, enjoying the gasp he got out of you and the way your knees stopped working for a second; as much as he wanted to keep you there forever

Mihawk didn't want to stop kissing you, but he had to, as he could feel you getting out of breath. He pressed his forehead against yours, watching you trying to catch your breath, your chest moving rapidly and your cheeks flushed. “If we are ever to come close to Shanks again, he better keep his hand to himself.”

[catgirltoofies]

here's a few dwarf fortress adventure mode tips if you're struggling at all!

1. play a goblin. the mode is unfinished and there's no way to get food except what you start with, so play as a goblin so you don't have to deal with food and water (still need sleep tho). the downsides to playing a goblin, for the record: you're smaller and weaker than the other races. this can make it hard to wrestle things that are large, and makes you very frail under your armor - so don't fight big things without good armor.

2. don't bother with specific weapon skills at the start. my primary suggestions for skills to start with are Novice Reader, so you can read books and/or become a necromancer (if that's your groove) and, importantly, if you don't start out able to read, you can never learn to read. aside from that, my only suggestion is to take at least two levels in Observer. this will let you see how an opponent is attacking so you can counter effectively - you can't parry a dragon's fire breath, but you can block it. back to my initial point - the weapon you start with is not going to be a good weapon, and you should be seeking to replace it as soon as you can.

3. due to how combat works, your first medium-term priorities should be getting ahold of an iron chain shirt, an iron helm, two iron high boots, and two iron gauntlets. this will give you full coverage across your body. for embark, start with a copper chain shirt - cheap and plenty effective for early on, especially against animals. in addition, you want iron or silver weapons, or if your world is more developed, steel. this is why weapon skills don't matter on embark - you're not going to be able to put a ton of points into it anyways, and being a Proficient Swordsman won't help you when you find a masterwork silver whip in the hands of a random goblin.

4. NEVER sleep in the wilderness, if you can help it. you will be attacked and you will be killed. find a nearby civilization that isn't hostile to you, ask anyone in a building for permission to stay the night, and sleep there. you'll be safe from the boogeymen that way, but you're not necessarily safe from random attacks on the village you're staying in. those aren't your fault, though, and are totally random.

(boogeymen no longer attack outside of evil regions, but sleeping in the wilds still leaves you susceptible to predators - not nearly as dangerous, but still a potential threat.)

5. don't interact with elves unless you have a plan. starting in an elf civ has one big disadvantage and one huge potential advantage. elves don't use metal at all, so your only weapon and armor choices will be grown wood, which is an extremely ineffective weapon and armor material. even as ammo, wood is bad. however, if you start in an eleven civ, you have access to giant animal companions. your weapon doesn't matter when you have a giant lion on your side.

6. while in combat, don't be afraid to flee. sometimes you get in over your head. it's important to know when you're in trouble and getting out of dodge before it's too late. most importantly, if you're fighting something that gets cuts in through your armor, you need to leave. if its attacks are stronger than your armor, that means that you can get severed nerves, and those are permanent damage. when you go to the travel map and move a tile, all of your wounds are healed, except for permanent damage - it doesn't matter if you're bruised black and blue and your legs are broken, if you can get to the travel map, all of that goes away. but one single severed nerve in your ankle and you become permanently disabled and need a crutch to walk anywhere, severely hampering your ability to fight. even worse in the arm!

7. train! fight weak stuff before trying to take on strong stuff. run around the woods and chop the wings off of birds. wrestle crabs. get into fistfights with drunks. getting experience from things does not scale with difficulty, only repetition, so it's perfectly viable to pick up a rock and throw it at the floor for three hours and become a legendary thrower capable of splitting open a goblin skull with a hummingbird beak from 30 meters away, or fistfight drunken dwarves for weeks on end to become a legendary striker and punch a dragon's eyes out.

8. for early equipment, scout out camps. there tend to be some nearby any settlement, and the residents might not even be hostile to you! don't pick up everything, just things that are better than the stuff you have. it doesn't currently have an indicator, but carrying too much stuff WILL overencumber and slow you down, which can be deadly in a fight. i look for iron or silver equipment, especially whips. don't take the money, it's useless.

9. what's the best weapon? whips. due to the complex mechanics of combat, whips are basically able to totally ignore armor and simply break bones. secondarily, spear-type weapons are decent against armor, as they can punch through and cause bleeding, while blunt weapons like maces can break bones through the armor. swords and axes are not going to be useful. against unarmored things, though, swords and axes will be much, much stronger - a heavy sword swing can pretty handily sever limbs, which is an EXTREMELY effective tactic, if you can pull it off. blunt weapons will still be able to break bones, but it'll take quite a bit longer to kill an unarmored target with a war hammer than with a greataxe.

10. be patient! both in the game itself, and with the development process. this beta is very incomplete, missing extremely important content like crafting and trading, leaving you somewhat limited in what you can do. they're working on getting it finished, and what's currently available is still a whole lot! as for the game itself - sometimes it's good to take things slow. don't just wildly auto-attack things, sometimes taking a look at your attack options and potential "crits" can create an opening for you to turn a losing battle into a winning one. you can take a step to reassess and get a new accuracy roll if none of your options are good - just be careful not to leave yourself too open to counterattacks!

[papayatori]

Fall away (p5)

Inumaki Toge x fém!reader

Had I lived a life of weakness, or was I simply realizing just how strong everyone else around me had become? I stood in the middle of the training yard, fending off attacks from Yuta. He had decided to be my sparring partner today.

He had introduced himself to me earlier, almost shaking from his own nervousness. He was Inumaki’s best friend, I knew I would have to talk with him eventually, but today seemed off to me.

I knew that he was on a mission with the others, but I had no idea that when he’d gotten back that he would have a sudden interest in me. Though, I had learned recently from Gojo, that we had similar abilities. While Yuta failed to use a technique like the rest of us did with the exceptions of Maki, he still possessed a cursed spirit within himself known as Rika. Maki had warned me of her, as she had had a flaming jealousy of Maki from their first meeting. The only explanation of this was that Maki was another female that knew Yuta; though the flame in her eyes and the blush creeping onto her cheeks explained something entirely different. I kept that to myself in case Maki ever tormented me about Toge again.

“You’re fast, but your punches are pulled.” Yuta stated confidently with a small chuckle. I grimaced, noticing the gazes of our peers on the sidelines.

“Im not pulling punches, Yuta! You have a katana.” He shrugged, throwing it to me.

“Now you have a katana. Let’s see if we can fight evenly now.” I glared at him, readying myself for the next battle.

I completely willed my cursed energy to my core as Toge had instructed. I felt it flow through my body, pulse in my veins. I figured the only way to wield a weapon with zero cursed energy would be to use my own, I allowed it to flow into the wooden katana all at once, pushing as hard as I could to focus the energy. I saw Yuji give me a thumbs up from the sidelines.

Yuta now had Maki’s staff in his hands. She was standing awkwardly beside Panda with no explanation. I knew she must have given it to him.

He threw the first attack, nearly sweeping my legs out from under me. I had been distracted and he had used this to his advantage. I stood completely, dodging his next move with ease. Our weapons were crossed, and I pushed him further back, causing him to falter and stumble slightly.

“Fast and strong, I see.” I didn’t bother responding, only pushing further into battle.

I swiped at him with the katana. He narrowly blocked before twirling the staff. I blocked with my forearm, allowing the sting to flow through me and create more cursed energy. I focused it all into the katana, swinging at the arm that held the staff. My eyes widened.

The wooden katana had shattered as he easily blocked the blow and knocked me from my feet. He poked my forehead with the staff before offering me a hand that I reluctantly took to stand up once again.

“When focusing cursed energy into a weapon as you have just done, it can be vital to succeed; however, when done too hastily and forcefully, it will cause damage to you rather than your opponent.” He spoke clearly as if he had had experience. I nodded, taking note.

“So, by pushing cursed energy gradually, it will be more effective.” He smiled.

“Correct.”

We had met the others on the sidelines, allowing for criticism on both ends of our fight. Toge took my hand, sizing me up for any injuries that might need tending to. He smiled down at me before tugging his scarf back up to hide his markings once more.

“Salmon.” He stated, congratulating my progress as he always did. It was my turn to smile at him this time.

“I still have much to learn, Toge.” He nodded in agreement.

So much to learn and so little time to do so. Gojo had informed me early this morning after a night of celebration that the group had returned safely that I was to go on my first mission today. I had finally spent the night in my room again, too scared to sleep but too scared to call for Toge. Yuji had checked on me a few times, which I was grateful for, but it didn’t help the sleepless night that I endured. Now I was to go on a mission?

“You will be accompanied by Fushiguro, mostly to spectate you in case the time is of need, but accompanying you nonetheless.” I nodded blankly, his words barely registering.

Now, we were being sent to an abandoned school on the outskirts of Tokyo. I had never even heard the name before, surprisingly. I suppose it had been cursed for some time now.

Ijichi drove us to the spot, lowing the veil and wishing us luck. He didn’t speak much I had come to realize, but a colleague regardless. Besides, that made things easier on me.

“The spirit is possibly a low grade 3, I doubt it will give you any trouble considering your skills, y/l/n”. He had said to me beforehand. Megumi had listened in, taking in the debrief with open ears. He didn’t speak much either.

We slowly walked into the horrifying building. Graffiti covered the gates and the outside walls.

“Kids must hang around this place a lot.” Megumi noted. “Be on the lookout for innocents.” I nodded, keeping my weary eyes as peeled as possible.

Our footsteps echoed in the hallways, they seemed to stretch for miles. I had decided to sweep the second floor myself, keeping Megumi to the first floor. I figured we’d get more done that way.

“If you see anything, don’t immediately attack unless you know for utmost certainty that you can handle it by yourself.” He kept his voice low, but it was still lethal.

“I’ll be ready.” He nodded, continuing down the hallway as I ascended up the rickety stairway.

Every little noise I heard made me jump. Fear brimmed my senses, sending my pulse into fight or flight. A rat scurried across the floor with a squeak, causing me to almost lose balance.

Pull yourself together, y/n. It’s just a mouse.

I heard a growl from somewhere in front of me. It sounded hungry, needy. Almost immediately, I felt the presence of whatever cursed spirit lied beneath the folds of darkness that blanketed the hall. I heard slow footsteps followed by a small chuckle. A cold chill traced my spine.

Disobeying every intelligent cell in my body, I walked further into the darkness. The hum of cursed energy released itself upon me. I focused it, sending it throughout my body. I unsheathed my katana, remembering my training with Yuta yesterday. My muscles still ached even after.

Though I could see nothing, I could feel the direction the spirit was. Its cursed energy seemed to be the strongest inside one of the classrooms. Reluctantly, I opened the door, whirling around for any immediate dangers.

I can see nothing here.

I heard another soft chuckle followed by a bellowing groan. The sound of saliva hitting the floor woke me from my internal slumber. I felt my organs rearranging themselves as my eyes darted to the corner of the room to be met with an ugly, humanoid being like the one that had entered my room all those nights ago. My fear overtook my emotions. My heart plummeted quickly, feeling every muscle in my body tense as the thing lunged for me.

I instantly threw myself into battle, swiping my katana and trying my best to focus my energy at the same time while my fear seemed to control my movements. I couldn’t let my instincts take over, as if something was holding me back.

“Don’t be afraid, little one. I don’t bite.” It cooed before lunging itself at me once more. I swung the katana with force, starting to regain control of my muscles again. I smiled lightly at the beast.

“I don’t know this fear in which you speak of, I’d like to meet them someday.” I said with a chuckle, slicing into the arm of the beast. It screamed loudly, probably alerting any bystanders of its presence.

It slashed its claws angrily, trying its best to regain the upper hand. My smile had grown ferocious, my cursed energy pounding within my veins. I focused it gradually in the katana as Yuta had told me to. I was starting to enjoy this.

My instincts had started to kick in. I dodged every attack with minimal effort. It hissed and screamed and wailed as I continued to wear it down. A slash to the arm, a cut limb, an elbow to the face. My cursed energy poured through my body, hounding the spirit with no trouble at all.

“You don’t know fear, yet you tremble where you stand.” It mocked me. “It’s so strong I can almost taste it.” I smirked, twirling my katana from my back and readying myself once more for an unpredicted lunge. I stared into its black eyes, feeling the void within. I felt the anger, the urge to kill on instinct. It welled within the spirit, overriding every other emotion. Ichiji had awoken it from its slumber with the veil, the only thing it wished to do was reside happily inside the haunting school. I spat at its feet.

“Is that why you’re bleeding and there isn’t even a scratch on me?” I laughed at it, mocking its very existence. “I’ll allow you to go back to sleep if you’d like. Though, this privilege will be much more permanent.” It attempted to attack, but I easily countered. I had started to lose myself in the bloodthirsty rage that was cursed sorcery. I laughed as I cut through its chest, into the place where its heart should have been. I pulled my sword free, watching it fall to the ground with a thump.

It was still alive, but only at my mercy. I heard its jagged cries, I felt every welled emotion releasing itself into my mind relentlessly. I saw my own death once again flashing behind my lids every time I blinked. It’s hot blood dripped from my blade.

“How does it feel to sleep?” I asked it, beckoning it to answer to me. It growled, looking up at me with a malicious grin.

“I’ll never be able to answer you that. I’ll only be reborn once more. This time, I’ll be stronger, and your life will mean nothing-“

I had placed my hand on its head, gripping it hard enough to bruise. It winced, baring its jagged teeth. I laughed again.

I felt the energy within it decreasing as well as its malicious emotions. They seeped into my skin as the beast had started dissipating. I heard rushed footsteps from down the hall.

“Y/n!” Megumi called in terror. His eyes grew large at the sight unfolding before him.

I gripped harder, feeling its life drain into the palm of my hand in the shape of a bronze orb that was colored like the spirits skin. It whirled and buzzed within my grasp. Megumi tried to run to me, but his muscles wouldn’t move.

It felt as though I weren’t myself, as if I was spectating and watching whoever was controlling my body. Without a second thought, I shoved the orb into my mouth, swallowing it whole.

“Y/n?” Megumi had frozen in shock. He had no idea what he had witnessed, and truth be told, neither did I. Before I could answer, I dropped to my knees. I was shaking violently. The aftertaste in my mouth tasted like death itself, the taste alone making me gag and wail. I felt a tear fall from my eye.

“Are you okay?” Megumi asked, rushing towards me. “What the hell did you expect it to taste like!?” I ignored his comment, not able to speak anyway. My cursed energy had felt stronger, lighter. My senses felt almost heightened as I stared up at Megumi, who was also trying to make sense of whatever the hell was happening.

“Did I really swallow that thing?” I asked, finally regaining my ability to move without throwing up. He gasped.

“Did you not intend to?!” He shouted, frustrated. I felt sorry for him.

“Not exactly.” I stated, standing and dusting myself off. Blood that wasn’t my own coated my new uniform.

We walked out together. I noticed Megumi looked roughed up a little, I suppose he had encountered a spirit of his own. Ijichi didn’t say a word as the veil was lifted and we drove back to the school.

Inumaki was pacing his room, not wanting to train with the others today. He had blocked all possibilities of something happening to you out of his mind just to keep himself sane. He hadn’t known you for long, and he didn’t exactly know how he already worried so strongly for you; but he did know you were a lot like Yuta. He knew your past wasn’t the best, he knew some of the things you struggled with, and he also knew that you had just learned many things about your family and your history that probably didn’t sit well with you. Not to mention, you hadn’t stayed with him the night before, and he hadn’t been able to see you before you left.

He heard a knock from the outside of his room, and without thinking he immediately opened the door. Gojo was standing there.

“Fushiguro and Y/l/n have returned, I figured you’d want to know. The others are making their way down as we speak-“ without uttering a word or letting Gojo finish, he pushed past him and started sprinting towards the main entrance. He had to make sure you were okay.

Gojo chuckled, watching the lovestruck boy run after the girl he didn’t even realize he loved.

I stood at the gate, Megumi beside me as Ijichi drove the car around to park. God knows how long it’s really been since we left, and I felt the weight of my lids drooping with every movement. I glanced around at the school that was shaded in orange from the setting sun. Had it been all day? I figured it would’ve taken longer than that.

Without warning, I was tackled in a bone crushing hug. I looked over, surprised to see the platinum blonde boy squeezing me to death. He pulled away quickly, eyes growing wild at the blood staining my uniform. He grabbed my hand and instantly started running back inside. I had no choice but to follow behind him, my entire body aching with each movement. He didn’t slow his pace until we reached what I knew to be rather familiar: the infirmary.

“Tuna, tuna!” He said, his lungs struggling for air. I looked at him, feeling his every crazed emotion. Had he forgotten to put up a mental shield?

Shoko looked me up and down, inspecting my entire body. I felt like I was being judged, I didn’t like this. I flushed.

“I don’t see anything wrong with her, Inumaki. Is everything alright?” He bowed to her slightly in thanks.

“Bonito flakes.” He said simply. I gave Shoko an apologetic smile.

“I’m not really sure, either honestly.” I said, still shaken from the soul I had absorbed. She noticed me stifle a gag at the thought, though she didn’t mention it.

Gojo walked in behind us with Megumi, who seemed to be slightly injured himself.

“You forgot the injured one, Inumaki.” He stated with a small smirk. I rolled my eyes, knowing what he was thinking. He turned his attention to me. “I believe we have some things to discuss?” I nodded, expecting fully for Megumi to mention something about what he had witnessed. He sent me an apologetic look to which I smiled back.

Gojo led me out of the room, leaving Inumaki pacing the hallway as I stood in Gojo’s ‘office’ once more.

“Did you really swallow it?” He asked me, no humor sweeping his tone whatsoever. He was dead serious. I felt the tension in the room rise significantly.

“Yes.” I stated simply. “I’m not even fully aware of why I did something like that. I didn’t feel completely in control. I was sort of living off instincts purely.” He nodded.

“Fushiguro mentioned that, too. Though, you don’t even have a scratch on you, and I’m certain that was at least a semi grade one cursed spirit. You spoke to it?” I shrugged.

“We had a conversation, yes.” He hummed.

“The fact that it not only could understand your Japanese, it could also form sentences that you could understand as well, is utterly terrifying to me.” He stated before continuing. “Though, something else is also concerning me quite a bit.” He started.

I tilted my head slightly, not exactly sure what he was leading into.

“Why did Inumaki tackle you?” His grin grew wider and wider as a blush grew on his cheeks. I scowled, pointing at him.

“Now isn’t the time for that, Gojo!” I yelled, walking for the door. He continued to giggle.

“Keep living in denial, y/l/n!” And I continued out of the room without another word. Toge was waiting outside with a small blush tinting his cheeks. He must have heard Gojo’s teasing.

Despite the excitement of today, I was absolutely exhausted. Toge grabbed my hand, sensing my exhaustion, and led me to my room. I didn’t even bother changing, I just flopped onto the bed while Inumaki sat at my feet. He kept eyeing me, as if still worried something was wrong with me. I sent him a questioning glance, he pulled out his phone and started typing once again.

“Are you feeling okay?” The robotic voice of his phone said. I nodded slowly with a small smile, motioning for him to unzip his collar. He did so hesitantly, giving me a shy smile.

I sat up straight, wrapping my arms around him. He flushed slightly and his muscles tensed before easing into my embrace.

“I’m fine, Toge. I promise. I’m just exhausted. I didn’t really sleep last night.” He coughed lightly before typing again.

“Why didn’t you come get me?” His phone spoke again. I chuckled.

“I didn’t want to be a bother to you anymore than I was.” He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. His touch was gentle, caring.

“Never.” He muttered. His voice never ceased to make my heart melt, no matter how much he spoke.

He kissed me softly before pulling away just as quickly. Neither of us were aware of what we were now, but we both knew we liked this. My face was a mess, I wanted more but I was exhausted.

I buried my face in his shoulder, feeling his heart beat faster. His warmth comforted me, his touch slowed my anxiety.

I fell asleep thinking about Toge once again, erasing the gruesome sight I had been forced to play in only hours before.

Sorry this one’s so short! A lot has been going on recently 🥲

Tag list: @grilledbananas @sillygoose3082

[bots-and-cons]

Can i request Optimus, Arcee, and Bumblebee react to their human friend (preferably female) somehow turning into a cybertronian and now they have to help her to get used to her new buddy?

A/N: I have a post about this with Knockout, and a bit more angsty one where the reader dies and gets revived as cybertronian, so if you’re interested, check those out too

~Bumblebee~

•Bee is honestly pretty excited when you turn into a cybertronian, but he is also incredibly confused, just like the rest of the team

•There is certainly an adjustment period to get used to your new body

•Nobody really knows why it happened, but you touched some iacon artifact by accident and poof, you turned into a cybertronian

•Since Bee is your guardian, he got the job of teaching you about being an autobot

•You’re very clumsy in the beginning and the whole transforming thing doesn’t really come naturally to you

•You still have to pick an altmode now and Bee tries his best to explain how the switching between your alt mode and bot mode feels, because he thinks if you can feel it you can do it

•His explanation is very much about the vibe of the whole thing, rather then how it would actually work

•Anyway, you’re having a lot of fun, even if you feel really clunky and being so big is very odd

•All the very normal sized things look so small now that you’re like three times your previous height

•You eventually turn back into a human when the relic’s effect wears off, but at least now they know what it does

•It’s really disorienting being a human again, just like it was disorientating when you first turned into a cybertronian

~Optimus Prime~

•When you turned into a cybertronian, it was obviously a big shock for everyone 

•It was decided Optimus would look after you and teach you how to transform and stuff like that

•It’s not usually really something that has to be taught to cybertronians, because they just know how to do it naturally, so this is definitely a new experience for him too

•You’re super clumsy at first, and definitely not feeling like yourself

•Your body feels weird, because it’s not really yours yet since you’re not accustomed to it

•Optimus teaches you about all kinds of things like how to switch to your blasters from your hands and how to activate your blades

•It’s certainly a learning process, and you learn it quicker with your dominant hand for some reason

•You pick up on the feeling you get when you’re doing things right, so it starts getting easier to use your weapons and stuff

•You’re obviously not allowed to fight, because you have no experience and who knows what could happen to your human body if you changed back when you’d gotten injured in your bot form

•Optimus might also be kind of overthinking things, because he doesn’t know how this whole thing works

~Arcee~

•Another normal day at the autobot base, a human turning into a cybertronian is an everyday thing

•Arcee is pretty tired of all the shenanigans that keep happening, but she does still start mentoring you in how to be a cybertronian

•She thinks it’s important you can keep yourself safe, even if the situation is temporary and you’re not really leaving the base, because something unexpected could happen

•First of course you have to pick an alt mode so that’s what you do

•Then Arcee teaches you to use your blasters, which causes a few misfires and a very annoyed Ratchet, because he almost got shot

•You actually end up being pretty good with the blasters, your aim is great and your reaction time is good too

•Arcee is worried about how this little accident with you turning into a cybertronian happened, so she tries to research the relic, but there seems to be no information about it

•It turns out not to be permanent though, so she can sigh in relief once you’re finally back to your human self

•You think it’s a bit of a bummer, but you’re also happy to be able to go home again

[mactiir]

sword misconceptions part 2: shortsword

Post series: longsword | rapier | buckler | dagger | spear

so as I'm getting back into fantasy lit as a historical fencer, there are a lot of things I am noticing cropping up in swordfights that are inaccurate or flat out wrong. So i wanted to write a post for my fellow writers putting down a few things I've learned in 2.5 years of swinging the actual weapons around!

Disclaimer: i REALLY wanna emphasize this because in my last post someone decided to get cute (and wrong) about this. Historical terms for weapons were NOT STANDARDIZED. There as no "one" longsword/rapier/shortsword etc when we're talking about a weapon that existed for hundreds of years across an entire continent. And "shortsword" especially is not a specific term. As how you use weapons are governed more by their properties than their names, you can generalize many things that may not have historically been called "shortswords" under this term. There are like five or six different weapons which have distinct traditions in HEMA which match the fantasy game description of "shortsword". So I'm talking here about any one-handed, straight-bladed, double-edged sword with a (mostly) simple hilt/crossguard and a blade length typically between 2 and 3 feet. As "shortsword" is a generic and not a specific weapon descriptor, this covers what we in HEMA call arming swords, gladiuses, some messers, and probably a bunch of other types of swords I can't think of right now (the "simple hilt" rule is because I'm putting italian side swords and scotch broadswords in a different category. They feel really really different to wield than an arming sword/messer, and classing them as shortswords feels wrong).

Misconception 1: dual wielding shortswords is safe and effective.

When you dual wield, you really REALLY want different length weapons in each hand -- like a dagger in the offhand. Otherwise they cross over each other, get in each other's way, and generally slow you down and mess you up. We'll dual wield matching weapons for fun sometimes, but it strangely feels very unsafe and most of the time you have to resort to windmilling (getting stabbed in the chest as a result). Is this a skill issue? Maybe partially, but there's another reason to have a shorter weapon in your weaker hand, and it's physics. Maintaining parry structure and speed in a full size blade is really hard to do in your weaker, non dominant hand, so if you're going to hold an offhand weapon, you want it to be something that can't be easily wrenched or beaten aside, and instead something that has more leverage (like a short lil dagger!) so that you can turn aside incoming hits without the sword getting blasted aside. If you have a character that's really, truly ambidextrous they might be able to legitimately dual wield full length weapons, but most of the time this one just looks silly.

Misconception 2: since it's a one handed weapon, you shouldn't use your nondominant hand at all.

One of my favorite things about slashy one handed weapons like messer and arming sword is that your offhand still gets a job, but it has to diversify its job prospects! Most "shortsword" traditions aren't like modern fencing the way saber or rapier are, where you only use your sword arm. In messer, which is a very grappling-focused system, your offhand's job is to grab your opponent's arm, put them in joint locks, seize the opponent's blade after you've locked it in a bind, and otherwise be a nuisance. In arming sword and buckler, the offhand holds a lil shield, whose job then becomes to suppress the opponent's sword by shoving the buckler into a bind, protect your sword hand, parry afterblows, or deny entire target areas to your opponent. Most shortswords are NOT weapons designed to be used without backup from your other hand in some way. Don't just have your character hacking an arming sword around. Have them close distance, grapple hard, yank, push, armlock, trip. Shortswords don't grant the luxury of distance longswords can. You have to be up close and very personal.

Misconception 3: shortswords are faster than bigger weapons.

And in close quarters, they sure as hell ARE faster, because that's where longswordsget jammed up by proximity. But "close quarters", in this case, is "less than five feet apart". I'm talking CLOSE. Correct to: measured by speed of the hand, you can swing a shortsword more times per minute than a longer weapon. But a few things equalize that: their length, so you have to step in to score a hit, making them slower; and their relative lack of mass. This seems counterintuitive, but think of it this way: cutting a longsword around often just involves redirecting its velocity, which is already trying to continue forward due to its mass, in a different direction. Cutting a shorty around often involves restarting the whole cut: it's probably stopped against your opponent's weapon or bounced off, so you have to re-engage your swinging muscles to get it moving again. This is why when you watch sword and buckler or messer fighting, fencers will often avoid binding their blades at all costs and instead repeatedly disengage under or around each other's blades instead -- because in this situation, with good footwork, the sword actually FEELS its proper speed. A two-handed sword is going to be faster and more nimble than a one-handed sword in almost all cases UNTIL you get close enough that the longsword wielder can no longer move their sword properly -- which is well within the longsword's cutting range.

Misconception 4: shortswords are for weaker characters than longswords.

My beef with d&d 5e is that every sword SHOULD be a finesse weapon with a strength prereq to wield. Yes, shortswords ARE lighter than longswords, but only by about a pound. Add that to the fact that you can only use one hand to hold it and the fact that you're probably trying to swing it faster due to being practically in the other guy's teeth, I find short swords actually more physically taxing to wield than longswords. They burn out your dominant shoulder BAD and there's no way to relieve the weight on your arm without dropping your sword and probably taking a point to the chest. Yes, they are easier to pick up. They are harder to fence/fight with for extended lengths than longswords, at least to me.

That's all I can think for now! Hmu with any questions or confusions.

[heyftinally]

Taylor only has one thing when it comes to the opressed olympic. It's the fact she is a woman. And swifties use that for any criticism against her.

" Oh you just hate succesful women."

She isn't black, She isn't gay trans etc.., She isn't disabled, She isn't poor, she isn't jewish, she isn't muslim, etc... etc...

Swifties also need to learn that a black man is not more privileged than a white woman. They seem to think that she is always more oppressed against any other man.

They could literally think that a homeless black man has more privilege than the billionaire white woman. All because he is a man.

🔔🔔🔔 Ding ding ding, we have a winner, folks! You hit the nail on the head.

Taylor Swift has weaponized her white woman tears and "oppression" to her own benefit, and this is exactly how.

None of her fans seems to ACTUALLY understand how oppression works, they just take the pretty little buzzwords that they think are synonymous with "I'm a good person who's right" and parrot them like a $2 children's toy (half the time while sending death threats and racist/homophobic slurs, which makes it even more ironic)

Taylor Swift is not oppressed. She's just not. Honestly, yes, even though she's a woman - and before any feral Swifties come at me, I AM a woman - she's not oppressed, and I'll tell you why.

"Billionare" overrides most (not all) other categories. As soon as you're a billionaire, nothing else matters, because you can buy your way into and out of anything. Combine that with the facade that the entire world worships her, and guess what? Nobody gives a shit that she's a woman. She's not oppressed because a few people she's never heard of make jokes about how much she sucks - she DOES suck, but those comments have zero impact on her life. She doesn't even know they exist. In Taylorland, everyone loves her no matter what she does - even if she's best friends with/dating bigots.

In order for someone to be oppressed, systematic situations have to negatively impact their life on a day to day basis. Disabled people can't get married without losing their disability income. LGBTQ+ people are still getting murdered in the street for just existing and having their right to healthcare taken away. People of a variety of ethnic minorities still get denied things like loans at a higher rate than white people. Women get denied promotions because they're not men.

None of these things will ever happen to Taylor Swift. She can quite literally pay to access a "perfect" world, because she gets to pay her way out of normal life.

If someone makes a sexist joke? She can have that person fired and hire someone else.

She can pay for as much private security as she wants, so being safe is literally never a concern.

She can pay for private travel (and kill the planet every ten minutes), she can pay for private staff to handle her every whim and worry.

Taylor Swift has effectively paid her way out of oppression, because she can simply use her power, her money, and her legion of feral fans to get whatever she wants.

Someone makes a joke she doesn't like? Clearly it's "oppression" and now that person is "canceled" at best, or getting doxxed and sent death threats at worst.

Taylor Swift isn't oppressed because she can pay to fix nearly any problem in her life, so her biggest "problem" is people not unquestioningly worshipping her 24/7, which is what she weaponizes.

And fans will still claim that she's more oppressed than a black disabled homeless man, because they don't understand oppression OR intersectionality - all the know is worship Taylor and harass.

[ruhorih4ra]

Hi! (⁠´⁠ε⁠｀⁠ ⁠) Heheh maybe this story won't end with 20 chapts... The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math?

This chap has a cliffhanger but I actually have the next part ready so is safe to wait until next monday!

Get out of my way! 🌈

And that’s how you’ve been using the Newspaper club for your own benefit. The routine was pretty simple but exhausting, every day you woke up as early as possible to search for any information that could be used against the Little D.’s. Sometimes you would find something, you would follow the clue until a dead end was met. Those days weren’t completely useless, at least you had learned a few tricks. Books, old scrolls and even antique boards surrounded you day and night. You were completely absorbed and stupidly oblivious to the passage of time and curious eyes.

To begin with, it was difficult to differentiate mornings, afternoons and nights, but now? All days were blurred into something unspecific, your days divided into useful information and effective weapons or useless information and the ever present possibility of a tragic ending.

The Little D.’s annoyed you all the time, their voices always trying to rile you up. Always trying to seduce you to succumb to lust and sloth and ultimately losing the battle. However, the constant chatter and loud work at the club was your shield, so strong and efficient that you had been reduced to a human hermit who barely speaks and lives on caffeine and Beelzebub’s snacks.

“Mc, are you listening?” Mephistopheles repeated for the third time. “Yes. I heard you loud and clear. Would you please be kind enough to stop yelling in my ear?” You heard distant laughter. The demons had grown fond of your presence and the idle bickering between you and the former president of the club. “I would if you would consider listening to me!”

“Well, today’s your lucky day! What can I do for you?” Immediately after you finished talking, an elegantly decorated yet formal folder landed on your already messy desk. “What is this?”

Mephistopheles cleared his throat. He inspected his cane with rehearsed interest as he spoke. “We need to talk. A serious talk about… the mess you had brought upon this club and how you’re going to fix it.” You were silent for a few minutes, a foolish “Eh?” was your only response.

“Follow me please.” Upon entering Mephisto’s office and leaving the publicity of the previous room you felt more at ease to talk. The demon took the large black curtain that covers a gigantic window that overlooks the RAD patio and removed it with a theatrical movement. “Look!”

Nothing. You couldn’t see a single thing, but that wasn’t rare in the Devildom where the sun never comes out. “Yes, the sky is as black as ever, beautiful. So?” You questioned. Mephisto’s eyes widened purposefully, his head bowed to the side, urging you to take a closer look. You narrowed your eyes, walking closer too, slowly noticing that what you previously thought was the sky was far from being it.

Those were… feathers. A little eye opened, followed by another, and then dozens. Crows. All pushing each other uncomfortably together and pressing themselves to the window. “What the actual hell?” You looked at Mephisto in horror. “Why?”

He crossed his arms, looking the scene as if he were already used to it. “You know whose familiars are these, don’t you?”

“I know but why would he do this?” You couldn’t stop looking at the poor horde. “He’s not doing it on purpose, at least that’s what I think. They are simply reacting to Mammon’s emotions. It’s very disturbing if you ask me.”

Mephisto had seen Mammon’s downfall. First, he acted surprisingly mature, showing control and calm. But the more days passed, the more absorbed you became in who knows what, the more you distanced yourself from them, the less the demon was able to keep it together. Constantly seeking you and more often than not facing a refusal, even Mephisto felt bad for the avatar of greed.

He sat in a little sofa and you sat in front of him, still unable to tear your eyes away from the window. That was until you noticed something was remarkably different from all the furniture in the room. The seat you had taken were pink with floral embroidery. “I didn’t remember your office to be this… romantic?” Mephisto was serving a cup of tea, and even though you had a coffee just some minutes ago, you didn’t complain. It must be something nobles do, the need to drink tea while discussing important things. “You see, Mc, this furniture was a gift from Asmodeus. He told me that you would get sick if everything was plain and gray.”

You surveyed the room, quickly noticing that Mephisto’s office had been taken over by pastel colors, from the huge pink wooden clock to the very striking orange coat rack. Your eyes fell on the set of expensive porcelain. “This tea and cake are from Barbatos. The new tiny fridge outside is from Beelzebub, although you only eat the energy bars, everyone else here is happy to help you with the rest.” You looked around, tons of cushions were piled up in different places. “Belphegor.” Mephisto answered with a sigh that you were sure was full of resignation. “Except the cat shaped ones, those are Satan’s.”

You were confused, but Mephistopheles continued, ignoring the growing frown on your forehead. “All of the members of our club are pretty happy, comfortable and well fed thanks to you.”

“I haven’t done anything special. I’m just here.” You said. “That’s enough for the brothers.” Mephisto handed you a cup of tea, he was happy, too much for your liking. “Lucifer gave us twice the budget from last month too.”

“Why? He used to complain about this club quite often.” The smell of the beverage in your hands reached your nose, it was your favorite. You looked at it as if it could explain things better than the demon who exuded smugness. “He gave us the paper you’ve been asking for, even if it’s more expensive, now the newspaper looks better.”

“I haven’t asked for any particular type of paper.” You said and Mephisto nodded enthusiastically. “No?” “I would remember.” You narrowed your eyes while Mephistopheles smelled his tea, closing his eyes and sipping from the tiny cup. “Does it really matter?” The door to Mephisto’s office opened and a demon rushed over to give him a piece of paper, leaving the room as fast as he entered. He read it in no more than a minute, if the smile was any indication, he was satisfied. “Levi agreed to review video games for us. He used to say he was too busy to take another responsibility, but he’ll do it if it helps you.”

“Why would it help me?” you put the cup on the little table with no delicacy, surprisingly it didn’t break. “Honestly? No clue, but he was desperate to help you and the newspaper needed a new column.” Mephistopheles shrugged, not even batting an eye at your outburst of anger.

Just how busy have you been to not notice their attempts to make amends. Your eyes traveled to the curtain again, if you sharpen your ears you can even hear the low chirps of the crows outside. When was the last time that you heard about the brothers? When was the last time you hang out together? You recalled Belphegor’s sad eyes in that brief dream. All your interactions with them had been defined by its short duration and superficial treatment. Perhaps your relationship with them was worse than you had thought, and all this obsession with the Little D.’s was the root of the problem.

Maybe you should follow Barbatos’s advice and confess.

“The new exchange student has been busy too. She’s always with one of the brothers.” Mephisto tried to address the topic downplaying it. “Naturally.” You answered. It is logical, she’s still the NEW exchange student, a human surrounded by demons. A witch, you remembered Mammon’s words. He had called her a witch, but you could remember that there was affection in those words.

“Last time I saw her she was dancing in The Fall with Lucifer. They looked good together.” If looks could kill, Mephistopheles would be drowning in that fancy tea. He was provoking you on purpose.

“Mephistopheles. What do you want?” you spited.

You could feel the strings of smoke tightening your soul, making his way through your nostrils, filling your lungs and taking hold of your throat. How can they be so worried about you if they keep flying around her like flies? You were trying to fight the Little D.’s stupid curse while they enjoy their time together? So while you had been working your ass off to go back to them as soon as possible, they just decided to replace you again.

You took the cup in your hands, your grip tightening around it. “I heard Lord Diavolo wanted her to move into the castle.” Mephisto looked at you intently, he was sure your aura was growing dark around you. “Rumors said he begged.” Mephistopheles found incredibly difficult to say those words, it was risible to think that Lord Diavolo would even think of doing that for a mere human, but there was something mesmerizing about the way your eyes grew cold.

“Liars. All of them.” What if you’ve been busy? Couldn’t they wait as they said they would? “I would find it impossible if not for the fact that she forged a pact with Satan.” You crushed the cup with your hands. You snapped out of the trance when you heard a loud, high-pitched laugh right next to your ear. A Little D. with orange eyes vanished in front of you and was replaced by the worried expression of Mephistopheles.

“What exactly do you think you are doing?! That’s hot!” He hurried to your side, quickly guiding you to the bathroom attached to the office. “Are you okay?! How much heat can a human endure?” He asked, covering your hands with a wet cloth. “She made a pact with Satan?!”

“What am I doing?? What are YOU doing?!” You didn’t give Mephisto a chance to answer your previous question, removing your hands from his and tossing the cloth at him. “Why are you telling me all of this!?”

“Because I don’t know what’s happening!” He tried to keep his voice low but giving the perfect amount of emphasis. “It is none of your business!” You replied, low voice too, suddenly remembering where you were. “It is if it affects Lord Diavolo!” Mephisto handed you the cloth again, his eyes never leaving yours. “But he hasn’t asked for your help, has he?”

Mephistopheles felt a familiar ache that was too close to that certain wound he had buried deep inside his soul. As if he had winced you retreated, guilt present in the way you crossed your arms and averted his gaze.

Mephisto left the room with nothing more than a small snarl. You sat on the toilet, too afraid to go out and discover that the one demon that had offered you help had changed his mind. You heard the door open with zero delicacy, and Mephistopheles appeared holding a small box that seemed to be a first aid kit. He guided you to sit where you were before, on that pink and flashy couch. He then took an ointment you had never seen before and applied it with so much softness that you barely felt it. “This is not from the human world.” You noticed, feeling relief all too quickly.

“No. I asked the angel for it, in case that something like this would happen. You didn’t think that I would not be prepared for everything, right?” He said, managing to sound both offended and somehow unbothered. “Thank you, Mephisto.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you so angry. You’re right, Diav- I mean, Lord Diavolo hasn’t asked me for help.” He continued to tend your hands. “I’m not doing this just for him.” His confession surprised you, to be honest he looked a little surprised too, as if he had discovered something. A small blush crept to his face, but it dissolved quickly enough for you to ponder if it had been real.

“I don’t know what is troubling you or why you keep reading those… twisted things,” he looked at your hands, maybe reproaching himself. “but I wanted to make sure.”

“Make sure of what?” you murmured. “I know what is like to be replaced, Mc, and I can assure you, they could never replace you.” The violet hair of Mephisto glowed in the white light of the hanging lamp above you. The nobleman shook his head fervently. “I know what you’re feeling. Someone who comes out of nowhere and takes what was supposed to be yours. She seems to be perfect in everything, nothing you do is enough compared to her” You saw a spark of indignation in those green eyes, a spark that wanted to start a fire.

“I know it hurts when you think he’s better than you at something you were specifically created for.” You were at a loss for words, or rather, the strength of Mephisto’s feelings kept stealing them. The demon walked through the room aimlessly, speaking vigorously to the inanimate objects around. “Everything happens very fast and, when you least expect it, he has taken your place. The worst is that after some time, it suits him so perfectly that you begin to wonder if you ever had the right to call it yours.” Mephisto stopped and breathed again.

Although you knew Mephisto was speaking of his own painful heartbreak, you couldn’t help but imagine that fateful scenario. Sc slow dancing with Lucifer, her head resting on his shoulder and on his face, the soft smile he reserved just for you. Mammon hugging her and showing her off as he used to do with you. Sc sleeping between Beel and Belphie, feeling the warmth of their arms and calmly listening to the lullaby of their heartbeats. You could imagine Asmo and Sc, modeling for each other ridiculous outfits they had no intention of buying. Sc lying in Satan’s chest, reading the demon’s favorite book, hearing his charming laugh in her ear and Levi, you could hear him call her “my Henry.” As if you never existed to begin with.

A single tear slid down your face. When he met your eyes, his eyes widened, although it was almost imperceptible. He cleared his throat and fixed his hair, trying to act calmer than he felt. “But please, human. You’re acting like a fool. I know you can’t see their pitiful eyes since you keep your head buried in those books, but you only need one look to see how miserable they are.”

“All these things around us! All these are proof of their devotion to you, don’t you agree?” Mephisto insisted but your attention was in his eyes, how much pain was underneath? It seemed that you hadn’t contemplated them before, and now you couldn’t take your eyes off them.

Because maybe he couldn’t help but made foolish scenarios too. Perhaps he used to picture himself at Diavolo’s side, not as the vice president of the newspaper club but as the vice president of the student council. Surely, he had expected Diavolo to choose, and the prince did choose.

“Whatever, I shouldn’t be saying this. I,” He looked around the office, spoting the elegant folder from earlier. His hands were shaking, although you had to be keen to notice it. “I wanted to ask your help to get Lord Diavolo’s approval for this proposal.” He handed you the folder, eager to change the topic.

“He didn’t replace you.” You said, taking it but completely ignoring its contents.

“What? No I,” He began speaking but perhaps something in the way you looked at him showed him how useless was to keep the act. He had been too obvious letting his heart speak, wearing it on his sleeve. “You may be right. I didn’t have a place to begin with.” Mephistopheles said “You had and still have a place.”

“Yes, I’m Mephistopheles, the vice president of the newspaper club.” He smiled, or at least his mouth tried to. “Mephistopheles, heart isn’t an ownership.” You took one of the arms of the demon, moving closer to him. “Hearts are big enough to allow many inside. For example, you have a special place in mine.”

Mephistopheles would have laugh of your naive words if he hadn’t seen an open door in your eyes. He focused in the white glint that escaped from your eyes, he moved closer, ignoring the tension in your body and the growing nervousness. Your soul was like a precious gem, so white, beautiful and stained… a misty smoke that clouded it. “Mephisto?” You placed a hand on his chest, his nose was already touching yours but his eyes were glued to your pupils.

Mephisto could finally breath in peace, knowing exactly what was happening and why everyone was tense. Your soul was in the middle of a war, that much was clear.

However, in his opinion the brothers were exaggerating, after all you were winning. “How competent, human.” He smiled. “You’re a tough one.” He laughed, his minty breath emphasizing his closeness.

The sudden sound of someone slamming the door open, took your attention away. Neither Mephisto or you moved, instead your heads turned to see the person behind the action. Mephisto was ready to scold them until a pair of well known golden eyes looked at him.

“Am I interrupting something?” Lord Diavolo’s voice had an unsual severity as his eyes alternated between Mephisto and you.

Chapt 20?

Taglist: @yuumaofc @asmolover1234 @gallantys @prefesro @urminebutidontwantyou @fiveofspades @exrellian @kaiserkisser @cutestpatoootie @fandumshippr @frenchmess23yo

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Inspired by that one Heart Hunter interaction with Julian, how would the M6 react to a MC who's way stronger then they look?

Btw i seriously have to thank you for everything you do. Seeing you post puts the biggest gein on my face every time, you're awesome!!

The Arcana HCs: M6 when MC is stronger than they look

~ yes. Just ... yes. yes. thank you. and also, thank you for the compliment! knowing that people enjoy my ideas puts the biggest grin on my face too! cheers to you anon - brainrot ~

Julian

He was already very much in love with you before, but DAMN

He does not have enough room in his body for this level of attraction. The first time you display your surprising amount of strength he just about melts into the floor

For such a tall guy, he doesn't have that much mass on him, so having you around is a whole new version of things he didn't know he needed in his life

Pickle jar? He's asking you to open it. Something fell under the couch? He's asking you to lift one end while he bends over to retrieve it

Malak must have dragged his eyepatch back there, silly raven

Any chance to watch you be strong, really

He also adores the chance to get a good feel for your abilities up close, so you can expect him to be a lot more clumsy when you're around

Suddenly he can't step over anything without tripping and falling. He is not safe around stairs, doorsteps, cobblestones, or even that one kitchen tile apparently

He just likes the way you catch him

Asra

They knew post-recovery that you weren't physically weak, but they had no idea just how strong you had gotten

Until he randomly decided to get an overstuffed neon tie-dye couch to go under the window and you managed to get it up the stairs almost completely by yourself

They were completely caught off guard and are now very curious about exactly how strong you are

If you're willing, he'll ask you to lift heavier and heavier things each day until he gets an idea of how much you can manage

They also love to tease, so this is going to be their cue to baby their strong, capable beloved

You could be restocking a part of the shop and he'll take a crate of feathers from your hands and coo at you while he carries it to the next set of shelves

They love seeing you shine, though, so they won't hesitate to ask you for help with something heavy or invite you to try something physically impressive

He just adores everything about you, what else is there to say?

Nadia

The first time she sees your strength her eyebrows nearly meet her hairline. She is very, very impressed

She's stuck between not wanting to make you self-conscious and asking you to do it again so she can watch more closely this time

She'll end up asking you to do it again and then be uncharacteristically distracted for the next fifteen minutes

Will eventually ask why you're so strong

Is it the diet? The lifestyle? The magic use? A spell? The side effects of having the body of an Arcana? Being a shopkeep? A mysterious exercise regimen?

Now that she knows what you're capable of, she'll invite you to join her for more physically demanding tasks

If you didn't know how to fence before, you're about to learn. If weapons aren't your preference, she'll pick up boxing with you

She's not the type to brag but she does like to show off things that she believes are worth praising

She's going to ask you to carry lots of heavy things whenever her sisters are around

Muriel

You have no idea how relieved he is not to be the only significantly strong person in the room anymore

Do you know how awkward it is for him?

Don't get him wrong, he loves to help, but it's a little intimidating when every eye in the room turns to him as soon as someone pulls out a stubborn jar

And it gets even worse when all the attention makes him sweat and he keeps losing his grip

Now he can turn and look at you instead and his hands can stay dry

If you're up for it, he really appreciates the extra set of muscle around the woods. Sometimes the big, old trees fall across the paths, and while he can manage on his own, it's much easier with you around

He secretly loves it when you show a slight competitive side

It's fun to unnecessarily move a boulder across the clearing just to wait for you to not-so-subtly try to lift it yourself a few hours later

He has to be careful though, because he might choose something too heavy and then feel guilty when you pull your shoulder

Portia

Ilya was feeling petty when he stopped by earlier, which means he put a bunch of things on the top shelf again, and she's on her toes trying to reach them because she doesn't like using the stool, and -

Oh, that's so much easier, how are you able to pick her up like she doesn't weigh anything at all?!?

She's read about this in some of the fairy tale novels in the palace library and now she's even more convinced that you came straight out of a book

Mysterious? Magical? A partner in crime? A partner in crime who can dramatically carry her to safety? Be still her beating heart

She will ask you recreate scenes with her out of curiosity. What's it really like to be princess carried around the house? Can you uproot a small tree with your bare hands?

If a shipment of something heavy comes in she'll drag you to the back entrance to see if you can lift it (and to show off who she's dating to the palace staff)

She's also surprisingly strong, so heaven forbid someone ticks you both off during introductions on an ambassador visit. Those handshakes are going to hurt

Lucio

He likes to think that he's the brawn to your brains in your relationship, so when he sees you with both he's not sure how to react

Does he want to test his strength against yours and prove himself? Yes. Does he also want to receive the princess treatment? Yes

He'll go back and forth on how to proceed

Maybe he'll challenge you to an arm wrestle and let you win so you have to promise to protect him if anything happens

Maybe he'll just use his gauntlet to point out that yeah, you're strong, but he bets you can't do THIS (... oopsie)

A few broken tables later he finds that teaching you to fight is much better. He gets to admire your strength up close and still show off what he's good at

He also gets to give back, in a way. You've contributed so much to his growth as a person, now he has the chance to help you flourish too

He will brag about you in every town you stop by until the stories he tells become rumors that turn into legends

You're tired of disappointing new friends when you can't split a mountain in two with a flick of your wrist

[isa-ghost]

YOU want to tell me all about your reaper headcanons. Right? Please? Pretty please?

I KNOW WHY YOU SENT ME THIS, BITCH

So anyway reaper Missa am I right. Goes without saying that the following is all AMFMN Missa canon, except the bonus at the end. :)

He can sense, see, and "read" souls. Their power, their condition, the species of the owner, the surface level emotions of its owner, sometimes even the personality of its owner. This is how he can tell when something is living or not, if a living thing is dying, etc. It's all in studying the soul.

Reapers not only guide departed souls to the afterlife, but they also protect still-living souls. They reap the bad apples and look after the good ones.

All reapers are given a deathscythe when they begin their reaping work. It's designed and tailored to their skills and personality, every scythe is unique.

Deathscythes are also strictly to be wielded ONLY by a reaper. Even so much as one reaper borrowing another reaper's deathscythe is considered odd. They're a very personal weapon.

They are also the only thing that can actually kill a reaper, as Missa told Phil in Chapter 3. Reapers are already in a weird undead state of existence, somewhere between living and not. So their bodies are very resilient but also very weird and quirky. They're immune to things like poison, but are very vulnerable to things like excessive blood loss. But even the things they're weaker to can't necessarily kill them. Deathscythes are the one of the only things guaranteed to be fatal to a reaper.

Reapers have EXTREMELY cracked agility. Super speed, inhuman strength & flexibility, yada yada. If Missa wanted, he could leap from the ground to the top of the wall with no help or struggle. And he was practically born with the innate ability to backflip for fuckin DAYS. Let's just say if he showed off in a sparring match, Phil would be head over heels for sure.

They're very strictly not supposed to get super attached to humans. Humans are mortal and reapers are not, which means most kinds of attachments and bonds between them are doomed to at the very least emotionally devastate the reaper when the inevitable comes. Which can be dangerous. A reaper's job relies on the ability of the reaper to reap. If personal stakes and feelings interfere with their ability to do their job when they should, it can have massive repercussions that a non-reaper could not even begin to fathom. Fate, time, and all that are very big, very tricky topics. And that's why Missa has latched onto Phil so hard. Not only is he extremely handsome and all that, he's not mortal. That inevitable day is not inevitable with him. He's safe to attach to.

There's an ambiguous hierarchy of sorts among reapers, which includes "higher-ups" and ALL reapers regardless of ranking all answer to Death Itself. This is why Missa can't recklessly abandon his reaper duties in favor of spending time with Death Family, and why him putting his duties on hold to save Phil from Ender King is such a big deal. (This also makes learning of Kristin very funny, because she's a different death god from a different universe).

Because of its purpose and power, Missa has been (and will be) struggling with not using his deathscythe throughout AMFMN, because he may want or need to fight Ender King, but using it could kill Phil. Phil is immortal, not invincible. If the deathscythe can kill a reaper, it can kill any ordinary immortal too.

To a certain degree, Missa doesn't need any aid in healing, at least if he's only mildly injured. His body can heal itself so long as it's given the time. If he's hurt too severely, or not given the ability to rest and let his body do its thing, then he's in trouble. Even if it can't be fatal, there are still serious effects that extensive injury can have on him.

And a non-canon bonus: If I were to make Missa an original species of reaper I have, he'd have an ability of sorts called A Reaper's Stare. It's an extremely powerful, special bond established between one reaper and one human, formed through a look the reaper gives the human, which is provoked by very specific conditions. It's most commonly triggered by an extreme emotional experience, such as empathy or love (is Missa's case, it'd be love). The Stare can only be used on one human at a time, its effects last until the human dies (in other words, if he gave Phil the Stare, it'd never die). It's like a form of soulmates, so a reaper of this species will rarely ever give another Stare to another human. As a result of the Stare, both reaper and human become tremendously devoted and protective of each other. In the reaper's eyes, it's a bond stronger than marriage.