#Readability score

[nikkeisimmer]

Dammit, Flesch-Kincaid.

It keeps telling me that my stories are too complicated to read.

She was also not your generically pretty type of girl. Her facial features were angular with a strong jawline. And her mother kept her hair short in a pageboy cut until recently so that she could keep it organized without it ending up in a mess but now she wore it long and wavy and she’d actually started to use make-up though as a teen-ager, she like to overstate her looks a bit – for teens, there was no less is more. She was good-natured and empathetic and always willing to lend a helping hand. With other kids at school, making fun of her for her nose which seemed a bit too large for her face; it was her only sore point that would get her riled up enough to start a fight which from being tough as nails and from playing with the boys at school; she would win every fight she started and well, the ones she didn’t start either. She was no wilting wallflower. You didn’t mess with a McIrish. Her younger sister, Maegyn, on the other hand was often seen on the arm of Parker Langerak. Parker had always fancied River, but River wouldn’t give him the time of day so Parker went with Maegyn and it appeared as though they were happy together. River was more interested in the son of the Asian couple across the street which for all intents and purposes was Haruo, though he had absolutely no clue – River was the girl that he hung out with on weekends and lunch hour and recess when they had that sort of thing back in elementary school.

Evidently my stories have a lot of "big" words. 🤣

[wackapedia]

Hospital Barbie 🧰

Dr. John Shen x F admin!reader Word count: 2.2k guess who didnt proofread yes me

When you were assigned to "oBsErVe OpErAtiOns" as part of a vaguely defined Strategic Initiatives role (read: nepotism), no one expects much, least of all, The Pitt's freshest attending, Dr. John Shen, who's too busy keeping patients alive and admins at bay.🥤

Night 1: The elevator takes its time taking you down the lower level floor. Gloria Underwood, the CMO and your direct supervisor, had asked you to observe the emergency department's night shift and take notes. "Don't interfere, don't distract anyone. Just observe, and take notes." Were Gloria's stern instructions. Notes on what? You forgot to ask her. Its too late now though. Admin has clocked out hours ago.

The elevator doors open and you are immediately greeted by the strong smell of saline and disinfectant. You try to stride confidently, staying out of the way as you straighten the "Strategic Initiatives Assistant" badge on your dark blazer, a contrast to your "I 💉 PTMC" shirt underneath. On one hand, you're clutching your notebook, a cold cup of matcha on the other. You approach the central hub to look for an attending.

"Oh my god, we're totally getting shut down." Doctor Parker Ellis notices you walking by. Next to her, Doctor John Shen looks up from the chart. "What?" "She's here! That's the owner's daughter!" Ellis subtly tilts her head to your direction as you introduce yourself to the charge nurse.

John was on the loop with Gloria nagging the day shift about the hospital's satisfaction scores. Robby keeps the groupchat updated as often as he can and Abbot would respond with a thumbs up as soon as he reads it. Looks like its his turn to deal with admin today.

"Actually, not today." John turns away and heads to south when he sees the charge nurse look around for him.

You are offered one of the comfier swivel chairs in the station as you take in the 10pm emergency department war zone of your family's hospital. You were in a good mood, feeling really fortunate to have something to do to help.

"My god, that nepo hire doesnt know what she's doing.." a nurse whispers to John. He chuckles, giving you a quick glance before turning away. "She's smiling like she's watching puppies in a shelter…" he adds, chucking his gloves in the trash.

"Hey. I'm not really sure what's going on, but… you're doing a really good job." You suddenly appear next to Doctor Shen, startling him. "Sorry, what?" He asks, looking confused. "You. All of you. It's kind of amazing. This place is nuts, and you're still here. That's cool." You smile, keeping your hands in your blazer pockets. John blinks. "Oh!" You apologize and introduce yourself. "I'm the Strategic Initiatives Assistant. Gloria sent me here to loiter and write reports about your vibes." You explain. That doesn't make anything clearer for John.

Later in the shift, you return to your perch at the hub. During a lull, a couple of doctors ask you about your suspicious presence. "What, are you gonna write us up for not labeling IV lines fast enough?" Someone asks. "Not at all! I think you guys are very efficient. Its amazing. Great job, thank you for your service." You say sincerely. The nurses side-eye each other.

A few hours past midnight, the entire ED is unsettled with your presence. "Is she still here?" "Maybe she's, like, undercover?" "Do you think she's HR?" "She told me I was doing great. Am I… in trouble?" John tries to calm everyone.

The shift finally wraps up. John did his best to ignore you, even with your odd comments like: "Ooh, nice intubation!" "That was a really smooth IV!" "Your handwriting's actually readable. Iconic." Oh boy. He has a lot to report to the PTMC attendings groupchat.

JACK: "Is that a one time thing or is she observing tonight as well" JACK: "Question"

John huffs. He doesnt want to talk to her but Abbot deserves a heads up since he's taking tonight's shift. So he approaches you.

"Hi, hey uh.. will I see you again tonight-?" John blinks, "That's not what I meant." "I can come back if you want me to!" You laugh, playing along. 'NO! No, I mean, well, my colleague was just checking if are you still observing tonight is all…" John suddenly feels jittery. Shouldn't have had that third cup. "Oh so you won't be here tonight. That's a shame. I guess I'll sit tonight out." You shrug. John pauses. And then asks: "were you flirting with me?" "Ha! You started it!" You laugh. "I- I didn't mean it like that-" He's deadpans, trying not to be flustered.

"Okay fine, I'm flirting because your shoulders are kind of unfair and I think your face is cute when you get annoyed." You answer. He wished you didn't because he might be going into a cardiac arrest right now and he's half-blaming the coffee.

You head back to the administrative floor to hand off the notes you've taken. A gleaming report that concluded in "possible error in data collection and computation of satisfaction ratings" because how can someone be unhappy if they leave the emergency department in one piece?! (Usually)

Emergency Department Night Shift Staff Report

Patient Interactions: Positive! ✨ Responsiveness: Amazing!🤩 Doctor Highlight: Dr. John Shen😍 - composed, efficient, nice hands Notes: • Everyone's doing their best! 👍 • I would trust these people with my life!! 🫰 • One nurse called me 'sweetie.'😘 Loved that. • Did not observe any disorganization.💪 • Maybe a dog mascot would help?🐶

Meanwhile, John also types up his Attendings groupchat report: "She was sitting there. Smiling and being all cute while drinking matcha like it’s a goddamn high school lunch break.”

ROBBY: “And that upset you?” JOHN: “It’s weird. It's unprofessional. It’s distracting. Like, why is she even there?” ROBBY: “Maybe she likes the show. We’re sexy when we’re stressed.” JACK: 👍 ROBBY: “You like her. She's pretty, she's your type." JOHN: ????? ROBBY: “You’ve been talking about her here for the entire duration of your shift. Last week you only said five words to me total. And three of them were ‘need more gauze.’” JOHN: "Would you just get your ass here so I can go home?" ROBBY: "Already rounding the corner, brother😂"

Night 4: You have long abandoned taking notes after your first observation. Gloria didnt have any input on the notes you submitted, probably because she didn't read it in the first place. Of course, no one wants to hear the nepo baby's opinion. You haven't submitted anything since and no one seems to notice. You decide to just enjoy the view, observe the night shift, and watch John Shen.

The doctor in question walks by, and you perk up like a sunflower tracking the sun. John is fast, precise, cool as a cucumber and undeniably good at what he does.

"She's been doodling hearts around your name today…" Doctor Parker walks with him. John sighs and tries to ignore her, until he sees you walking up to him. "Hi, Dr. John!" You smile, like sunshine warming him all over. "oh, hey hospital Barbie…" He tries to keep his neutral expression, making sure his deadpan voice isn't giving away any giddy feelings. You gasp. Oh no, he's ruined it. He's ruined his job and his shot. "Hospital Barbie?! So you think I'm pretty?" You grin, stepping closer. He tries not to panic, pulling a bay curtain between the two of you so John can pretend to look into a patient.

You huff and walk back to the hub, watching the charge nurse pick up the phone. Her expression changes before announcing "guys, MVA inbound, 18 passengers, four confirmed critical."

Yikes. You get up and watch the department buzz to life. Gurneys pulled out, trauma bays restocked, comms explode. "Is there anything I can do to help?" You ask. A nurse glances at you. "Stay out of the way, sweetie." You gulp, feeling like you need to apologize for existing. John sees your reaction and makes his way over to you while putting on fresh gloves. "Hey, you good? There's a social worker on shift. She'll be in the waiting room. Families of the patients are going to start pouring in. You'd be good there." He instructs, firm but calm. You nod, feeling a little lost in his eyes. He quickly makes his way by the entrance as the first of the ambulances roll in.

You split your time between the waiting room and the main floor of the ER. Nurses run here and there, stressed and exhausted, juggling current patients with the MVA patients, making do with the lack of staffing and upstairs beds. It takes hours before it finally calms down. Handing a tissue to one of the families of the victims, you decide to head back to see how things are going.

John's name is already on your lips before you realize you're whispering it. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, but all you hear is the monitors beeping, tools clanking, nurses exchanging jargon. Then you see him: John Shen inside trauma bay 1, sweat lining his brows as he gives chest compressions to the teen laying motionless on the bed. Blood, sweat, and then silence. A nurse helps the attending down the gurney as he calls the time of death.

A gasp escapes your lips. Even when you're outside the bay, John seems to have heard you. He turns, pulls his gloves and gown off and squeezes some disinfectant before approaching you.

"Hey, you alright? Lets get you some air…" he ushers you out after noticing how you went pale.

It was quiet at the parking lot. John leans on one of the cars parked nearby and sighs. "You weren't supposed to see that." He says, suddenly feeling protective of you. "Why not?" You raise an eyebrow, watching him groan as he sits on the curb after being on his feet for hours. He shrugs. "This hospital has my last name on every wall. And I didn't even know what that meant until tonight. That kid… that kid died-" Your voice cracks. You try again. "There weren't enough nurses. There weren't enough beds. If the board had listened, if we actually fixed things instead of-" John takes your cold hand and gently pulls you to sit next to him. He doesn't say anything, and it makes you feel worse.

"I'm sorry. He was your patient. You lost him. And I'm here spiraling like it happened to me." John gives you a tired smile. "It did happen to you. Just differently." "I'm really sorry. How are you holding up?" You find yourself wanting to run your hands through his soft hair. So you do. John almost moans at the sensation. A few quiet beats almost lulls him to sleep as you continue massaging his scalp. "How do you even come back after this?" You whisper. "Sometimes… we win. We save someone who was never supposed to walk out. And it makes nights like this hurt a little less." He sighs, eyes closed. You take in his beautiful features in the low light. His eyelashes over tired eyes, his skin, his whole being. You spend a minute more in the quiet, just breathing, being next to each other, and being each other's support.

Back inside the emergency department, John slips right back to finish the last leg of his shift. Writing notes. Checking in with the residents. Staying naturally sharp and calm. But now he glances at you more often. He chuckles as he sees you nodding off at the hub, your messy bun lopsided, notebook long forgotten.

You are woken up by the man of your dreams about an hour later. John says your name as he gently shakes you awake. "Hey, come on. Let's get you home."

"You done?" You groan, your sore neck complaining as you sit up. "We both are. Come on, I'll drive you home."

You doesn't say a word. Just follow him to the car, and when he opens the door, you sink into the seat like it's where you're meant to be. You take in the smell of his car, his perfume, his coffee, and something rich and fragrant your brain can't name right now.

"Horizons Tower…" you murmur when he buckles up on the driver's seat. John glances over, brows lifting before he schools his expression into something neutral, polite, and professional. 'Of course she lives there.' He chuckles to himself.

You vaguely remember arriving. Maybe you offered him the pull-out couch. Maybe he was too tired to argue. Maybe you handed him a towel after he asked if he could shower first. Maybe he smiled and rolled his eyes at those cow-print pajamas you meant as a joke before disappearing into the shower.

It’s all a blur.

Hours later, you blink awake. Light is blocked out by your thick curtains. John is next to you, peacefully asleep, one arm tossed across your waist, absolutely hogging the blanket.

You don't move.

"I could get used to this." John mumbles. “Me too.”

You both fall quiet again, wrapped in the hush of the afternoon, the kind of silence that feels earned. Sunlight leaks through the gaps of your blackout curtains in lazy streaks, catching the rise and fall of his chest, warming the space between.

Your eyes flutter closed again. You think about snuggling closer. Maybe saying something stupid. Maybe meaning it. Maybe he feels that way too, after tonight. Your hand begins to drag closer to his when you hear a sudden knock on your door.

Your heart skips. Your eyes snap open.

Your phone had been buzzing on the coffee table. Three missed calls. From your dad.

You slowly glance at the door like it might bite and mutter under your breath: “…Please don’t be him.”

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

I loooove John Shen he's my gummybear

I might come up with a part 2 of this where he meets the dad uwu

[urfavleo777]

luigi wearing glasses, praise kink, professor x student relationship, dry humping

pairing: luigi mangione x f!reader

➳

You never really cared about grades. Not in the way people expected you to, at least. Instead of jotting down the lecturer's golden sentences, you preferred to write down yours, so that when you got home you could create something actually readable out of it that some might consider poems. For you they were much more valuable than the highest score on the final exam. Exactly, for you. 

But you weren’t lazy. You were just tuned into something different. So naturally, when you got to college, you threw yourself into literature like it was a religion. Each free moment you dedicated to the library, where you ended up spending more of your academic year than in actual lectures—especially those without mandatory attendance. You always took the same table, which, after a while, sort of became your signature spot. People started to recognize you only by the sight of you sitting there, head down, lost in pages. You were not aware that among them there was also one man who particularly stood out, who often rummaged through the shelf of your favorite fiction. Professor Mangione. And you were so absorbed that you didn't even notice him sending you a short glance that grew longer with each passing day.

"Hey," he said with a small smile. "I’ve noticed you here a lot. You’re not in any of my classes though, right?"

You shook your head, slightly confused. "No, I… I don’t usually go to lectures where attendance isn’t required."

He chuckled. "Fair enough. But eventually, you’ll have to start. Final exams are coming up. You don’t want to cram everything in last minute.”

You blinked, a little confused. “Wait, what do you even teach again?”

He didn’t seem offended, rather amused, which he confirmed with laughter. That was a bit disappointing though since you wanted him to go away. Instead, he replied, briefly glancing at the cover of The Bell Jar. “Literary theory.”

It suddenly clicked - sure enough, Professor Luigi Mangione was somewhere hidden in your course syllabus. You decided to skip his lecture right from the beginning of the semester.

You grinned, biting your tongue to avoid complimenting him for the book he was holding. “No wonder I barely show up.”

He raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And why’s that?”

You shrugged, a bit defensively. “I guess I just prefer the practice over the theory. Reading and writing feels more real to me than all those abstract concepts.”

He leaned in just a little, eyes narrowing with interest. “Practice over theory, huh? There’s something poetic about that.”

Fuck.

You stood. You sat again. He didn't look away for even a second, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you.

“Well,” you said, grabbing your bag with a smirk, “I should probably get back to work before I start failing all my classes—even the ones I actually attend.”

He laughed softly. “Smart move. But don’t be a stranger, alright?”

You glanced over your shoulder as you headed for the door, tossing a playful grin back at him. “No promises, Professor. But I’ll try not to disappoint.”

What the fuck had just happened?

➳

You quickly noticed that Professor Mangione had a certain routine to which he stuck religiously.

Mornings began with him drifting through the fiction shelves—never in a rush, always deliberate—his fingers grazing the spines like he was searching for something long lost. Then he’d settle into the same armchair by the window, legs crossed, a book in one hand, coffee in the other.

You told yourself you weren’t watching him. Just... observing. Like a character study. The kind of person you'd write into a story without fully realizing it. But the truth was, his presence began to mark your days almost as much as your own reading. A quiet fixture. Predictable. Steady.

And somehow, annoyingly, intriguing.

He wore a navy button-down today, sleeves rolled just past his forearms, and when he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, your stomach flipped like it had no loyalty to your brain.

No doubt — it was that image of him that must’ve provoked the dream you had the following night. Naturally, you started attending his lectures, where you often engaged in provocative discussions with him. But it was his beautiful, focused face that couldn’t prevent you from thinking about finally fucking him.

You put your notebook away and walked over to him, taking a seat across from him like you hadn’t dreamt about his face buried between your thighs three days ago. Like you hadn’t dreamt about him pulling your hips to the edge of his desk, looking up at you with his mouth wet and his voice wrecked, and saying, “You’re my favorite student. My brightest. My best.”

You cleared your throat until he noticed you. Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

“You wanted to talk about your assignment?” His voice was calm. Casual. But you saw the flicker in his eyes, the faint pull at the corner of his mouth.

You nodded and pulled the paper out, holding it with both hands like it might burn you.

“Actually it’s already done,” you said quietly. “What you asked me to write.”

He took it from you gently, careful not to brush your fingers—but the air sparked anyway.

“I’ll read it tonight,” he hummed, clearly impressed, while sliding the pages into his leather satchel. “I’ve been curious to see how you write.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Curious, huh?”

He met your gaze without flinching. “You have a reputation, you know.”

“Oh?” you tilted your head. “For what?”

“For saying too much in discussions. For not showing up to lectures. For making people want to listen when you do.”

A pause. His voice had dropped just enough to blur the line between professor and student.

You laughed lightly, trying to break the tension, but it only made it worse. “That’s a lot of reputation to carry.”

He smiled, slow and knowing. “Something tells me you’re not burdened by it.”

There was silence for a moment. Heavy, but not uncomfortable. You leaned forward, forearms resting on the table, letting the soft hum of the library swallow your heartbeat.

“And what’s your reputation, Professor Mangione?”

His eyes flicked down to your lips and back up again—quick, practiced, like he hadn’t meant to get caught. “Depends who you ask.”

“Well,” you said softly, “I’m asking.”

He looked at you for a moment too long. Then: “Maybe you should write about it. Come to your own conclusion.”

You let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “Careful. I get very detailed when I write.”

“I hope so.” His voice barely carried across the table now. “I look forward to reading it.”

➳

Class was over, and before you knew it, you were already walking toward his office. Each step felt heavier than the last, the confidence you had earlier slowly unraveling with every inch closer to the door.

After all, you were about to face the Mr. Luigi Mangione — the one you even started to respect until he treated you unfairly.

You raised your fist and knocked.

"Come in."

His voice, low and raspy, sent a shiver down your spine. You slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside. There he was—sitting at his desk, eyes fixed on his laptop, fingers dancing effortlessly across the keys.

You hesitated for a moment, the door clicking shut behind you a little louder than you'd intended. Still, he didn’t look up.

The only sounds in the room were the rhythmic tapping of the keyboard and the steady ticking of the clock above his shelf.

It felt like the silence was a test. And you weren’t sure if you were passing or failing.

You swallowed hard. “I came to talk.”

At that, he finally looked up—glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose just slightly, gaze unreadable. He didn’t say anything for a moment, only studied you like you were a passage in a text he’d read too many times but still hadn’t quite decoded.

“About your grade?” he asked, but his tone already suggested he knew it wasn’t just that.

You stepped forward, voice low. “About how you’ve been treating me.”

Something flickered in his expression. Not guilt. Not surprise. Something heavier. He leaned back slowly in his chair, elbows resting on the arms, fingers steepling.

“Go on.”

“I participate more than anyone,” you said. “I turn in every assignment. And yet somehow I’m still the one being dismissed. Corrected. Challenged harder than the rest.”

“Is that how you see it?” he asked, head tilting.

You nodded. “Yes.”

He smiled, small and maddening. “Maybe I push you harder because I know you can handle it.”

“That’s not your call to make.”

“It is,” he said evenly, “when I’m the one grading you.”

Silence.

You stepped closer. “You’re not being objective.”

“No,” he said quietly. “I’m not.”

There it was. The admission. It landed like a match in a dry field—silent at first, then everything inside you started to burn.

“You’re a good writer, Y/n. But I know you have the potential to become the best.”

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” you whispered.

“And you shouldn’t be here.” His voice was barely audible now, but it struck like thunder.

“I know,” you said.

You walked closer to the chair he was sitting on. The distance between you evaporated in three steps. Close enough now to feel his breath, to smell the faint trace of coffee and cedar.

“I told myself I wouldn’t touch you,” he said, gaze locked to yours.

“But you want to,” you breathed.

He reached out his hand to you, which you took and he guided you onto his lap, his thumb brushing the edge of your cheek like a question he already knew the answer to. “You have no idea.”

“Professor—”

“Shush,” he whispered. “You’re bold. I’ll give you that.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words died on your tongue. Your breath hitched as his hand slowly reached out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. A touch too soft. Too deliberate.

“You wanted my attention,” he murmured, tone now quieter… darker. “Now you have it.”

You’d wanted him for so long—fantasized, daydreamed, obsessed over every look, every word, every red pen note on your essay—and now…

Now it was real.

You could taste him on your tongue.

If it weren't for the fact that you were sitting on his lap, your legs would probably give out on you.

“But if this—” his voice dipped lower, rougher now, “if any of this feels wrong to you—if you want to stop, or slow down, or if you change your mind, I’ll listen. Always. But don’t protect me at your expense.”

You stared at him.

Your heart ached with the weight of it. The tenderness. The way he said it like he meant it, like this wasn’t just about desire but choice. Care.

Your hand reached up slowly, fingers brushing his chest, his collarbone, until they curled into the fabric at his shoulder.

“I don’t want to stop,” you whispered.

And that was all he needed. His hand cradled the back of your neck again, and he kissed you—not hungrily, not desperately—but with the kind of reverence that made your knees weak all over again.

Your hips grind softly against his thigh as you coo softly, “Mh, professor..” you whine as he presses your hips further down on his thigh, giving you more pressure. “Mhm— tell me,” he instructs as he caresses your hair. “What do you want to know besides why I hurt you so much with this essay, hm?” he pouted, gripping your hips. 

“Do you…” you hesitated. The question felt fragile in your throat. You weren’t sure you wanted the answer—but the ache for it was louder than your fear. “Do you really think I’m a good writer?”

His expression didn’t shift. Not right away. But you felt something ripple behind his eyes—something careful. Measured. Like he knew exactly why you were asking. Still, he didn’t flinch.

“I wouldn’t lie about that,” he said gently. “Of course you are, my smart girl.”

Fuck. 

Your hips grinded on him harder, faster, picking up the pace as you try your hardest to utter sentences from your mouth. “I had a dream about you, professor,” you whined as you squeezed your eyes closed, your hips grinding on Luigi harder.

“Tell me about it, baby—y’can do it” he urged, kissing your neck softly, your pussy drenched. “Professor—can’t…” you frowned as your grinds become sloppier the more he kissed your neck. “Why can’t you, hm? Goin’ dumb on my thigh, are we?” he chuckled slowly, moving his head up from your neck to gaze into your lust eyes.

Your underwear was completely soaked through, making a wet spot on Luigi’s jeans, amusing him greatly. “Is my favorite studentessa* close? hm?” he cooed, bouncing his thigh, slightly making your sensitive cunt practically come undone from that alone. “Mhm..” you looked at him, eyes wide and naive. “Yeah?” he tilted his head to the side, his mouth slightly agape as he reached his hand down to rub slow circles around your clit. “Yeah…so close” you bited your lip as you grinded your hips against his finger, hiding your head in his neck as you let out soft whimpers and pleas. 

“Cum f’me, sweetheart—you deserve it” he said as you finally let go, your body trembling as you continued to grind on his fingers, euphoria crashing over your entire body. “Prof—sso good..” you whimpered as he slowed down his fingers, letting you ride out your orgasm. “You did so good, baby” he praised as he kissed you on your open mouth. “Now tell me about that dream you had about me.”

You couldn't help but giggle. “It could have been prophetic, actually.”

➳

*studentessa (italian) - female student

[contamination-zone]

Little drabble. Fresh and Nightmare being Strange. Platonic but can be read as romantic if you want

It squirmed a bit, only eliciting a disinterested hum from Nightmare. He continued to click away at his keyboard, attention fixed on that and Not Fresh [rude].

“Don’cha have a meeting soon with your totally radical lil’ ‘gang’?”

That got him to actually look at it, cyan eye lazily drawn downwards. 

“I suppose.” 

It mimed looking at a wrist watch with a motion as exaggerated as it could manage [not very much, but it was readable], “You should skedaddle if you don’t want to miss that one, clocks a’ticking.”

The guardian of negativity only let out a grunt of acknowledgment, single eye narrowing at something on his computer. The time, probably. 

Instead of getting up and going towards his meeting room, [ya’ know, the responsible thing to do] Nightmare just lackadaisically typed something up on his computer and sent it off with a click. 

“I don’t think I will.”

It spluttered.

He chuckled, a low bubbling noise it couldn’t help find a bit delightful. If only because it meant his… ally was satisfied with their arrangement, it justified.

As if to add insult to injury, the stupid octopus reached down to pet him. He seemed determined to undermine Fresh’s carefully crafted image.

It whined, “Hey! Watch the hat!”

The smile on Nightmare’s face made him think it wasn’t just a bit of carelessness. Still, he had some mercy; his thumb traced along the side of his face before dipping to its spine. 

Tilting its head to the side, Nightmare rubbed little circles on one of the vertebrae. An undeniably pleasant sensation, though Fresh wouldn’t let him distract it that easily.

“Meeting boss’tatochip.” That one got a full shiver of disgust. 

“I have informed the others it will be taking place in my office.” He responded, other hand reaching down to trace its eye-socket: the one containing its real eye. 

It leaned in.

The tightening of its restraints pulling it away made it aware Nightmare wanted control of that. 

“Uncool move, bro.”

He hummed, agreeing, letting it know he knew and just didn’t care.

Still…  what he was actually talking about raised some concerns. 

“Haven’t actually been introduced to your lil’ posse, sure you want to this way?” It couldn’t exactly spread its arms in a grand sweeping gesture, but you better believe it tried!

“I don’t see why not.” He dug his claws in a little and it couldn’t help but shudder. No moving to or away though.

“Doesn’t exactly fit my image, yo.” 

“I don’t see why you would need to keep it up in front of them.” He let the tips of his clawed phalanges trace between its vertebrate in a move seemingly designed to torture it. It tried and failed to lean in again. “You are mine, afterall.”

The crux of their alliance: protection. 

“This’ll prolly make me look like an easy score.” It didn’t see why he should make his work harder, letting Fresh seem like a weak link to exploit. 

“Doesn’t matter. They know not to take what’s mine.”

It took a page out of Nightmare’s book and let out a wordless sigh. This wasn’t going to end well, it could already tell.

In pity, or more likely possessiveness, Nightmare pulled him closer. Tentacles manhandled it until it could rest its face on his lap, squeezing a little tighter in a parody of a hug, if a hug was a full body experience.

It was like hiding between two rocks, or perhaps in a hole in the ground. Damp, tight, dark. Almost involuntarily it relaxed.

“Still not a good plan broski’.”

The tentacles wrapped tighter and almost a second later it could hear footsteps coming closer. Possessive weirdo. At least it knew it could count on that.

He didn’t answer it, instead focusing on the door as their first meeting going arrived. Just by the expression on his face Fresh knew this was about to be a long few hours.

[hellsite-proteins]

took the sequence for keratin and fucked with it a lot so that it's readable out loud as individual words (mostly)

VET LADLE MIGEL KEY LAY LAKERN HEEEM LARL GDQ GG DIVINE MAD APG VIDEL SALINE MERDE QEQ MAKE NERD EATWAFL STEEL KEN VANS SEL WASSER SEVTEL REVLEG LEIEL QSQ LAST KASTLEN SLEET KRYG CML SQISH LIVESEQ LAQL RACEME EASY DILL DVKIT REALITY DRILL PETAH BLISS QAQ GIB SYSREV TSSSSSSS REQ TRIPLIKE QSSEF SIGH

cool! i did have to make it a little less readable but let's see how it goes

from a brief search, there are multiple forms of keratin, but the structures in the PDB all look like long helices that are wound together (which makes sense for a structural protein like this and reminds me of collagen)

a protein BLAST search for the sequence i'm using

letter sequence in this ask matching protein-coding amino acids:

VETLADLEMIGELKEYLAYLAKERNHEEEMLARLGDQGGDIVINEMADAPGVIDELSALINEMERDEQEQMAKENERDEATWAFLSTEELKENVANSSELWASSERSEVTELREVLEGLEIELQSQLASTKASTLENSLEETKRYGCMLSQISHLIVESEQLAQLRACEMEEASYDILLDVKITREALITYDRILLPETAHLISSQAQGISYSREVTSSSSSSSREQTRIPLIKEQSSEFSIGH

protein guy analysis:

unsurprisingly, this sequence also gave a very long alpha helix, with very high confidence scores. this falls apart a little at either end, which makes sense since this doesn't seem to be coding for the full wild type keratin protein, and the slightly less confident areas are places where i suspect this has deviated a bit from the original sequence. i did also have to delete 2 'B's, which may have messed things up a little towards the C terminus. still, i think this is a really neat looking structure, and it does a great job showing how diverse natural proteins can be. (if you haven't yet, go google keratin protein structure and take a look at the images)

predicted protein structure:

cartoon coloured by pLDDT

top BLAST search result

[miquellah]

⚜️ SOTE Impressions Survey Results ⚜️

Earlier, I cycled around a survey to get opinions on the story of Elden Ring's DLC, and 101 respondents answered!! Following through with my promise, here are now all the results as recived.

Most all of these responders are likely from Tumblr, with potentially just a few from Twitter. To my knowledge this was never posted anywhere else, so these results can likely be best considered the thoughts of a good chunk in the Tumblr sphere of players!

I've done my best to make everything sufficiently readable, but there's still quite a bit in length here, apologies. The text on the actual charts may or may not be difficult to actually read, but I've given small summaries after each question to try and mitigate this.

First, the basic demographic questions:

These two were optional, but almost entirely filled by all respondents nonetheless. It’s a pretty good split between gender! I half wish I’d made it more specific just for curiosity, but eh. Age range is primarily 19-25, with 26-30 second place.

A question to determine how familiar players were with Fromsoft’s soulsborne genre and writing. Most respondents are indeed Fromsoft regulars.

Most respondents fully expected Miquella to be Morally Grey before DLC release, with only a somewhat smaller amount expecting True Good over True Evil.

These speak for themselves. Base game lore has consistently high scores, whereas while DLC lore still has high peaks, there’s still much more of a spread haha.

Despite it all there’s more people saying the DLC lore coheres with base game more than not??

Have you changed opinions on the DLC's lore at any time since it's release? If so, how?

No (no elaboration) - 18 No change, i feel negative- 15 No change, i feel positive- 10 Yes, I feel worse- 2 Yes, I feel better now- 18 Yes (no elaboration)- 6 N/A- 7

And wherever there’s nuance it’s usually a lot of “yeah I see the vision, but some execution could ultimately have been better.” In hindsight this is also a question I should’ve made multiple choice…

A very high chunk of people were spoiled to any degree beforehand!

This question was due to all of the comparisons to Miquella as being similar to Griffith/initially expecting that of him before DLC. I think Berserk is a bit more popular in the Twitter/Reddit circles of fans, though.

Primarily high impressions of Marika, with veeeryy low levels of believing she’s justified. Only a sliver of hate.

VERY high opinions of Messmer! Very small justifications of his actions, much in line with his mother.

Very high impressions of Mohg overall, with a small slice of dislike, a tiny sliver of hate. People largely feel his actions are nuanced, with a small slice of more justified than not.

Miquella is by far the most divisive character! Albeit he still has some good chunks of Like and Love. Justification scores are much the same as Mohg, primarily complicated/nuanced.

More people feel Miquella is a child only in body, with a near-equal chunk feeling it’s open-ended/nuanced.

Surprisingly, most respondents do NOT believe in Mohg having sexual misconduct with Miquella… though perhaps some people felt this meant just with Mohg as a perpetrator, and not that there wasn’t iffy stuff at all? Nonetheless, this headcanon seems pretty prevalent in the community as a whole, but maybe that’s just due to all the loudest people with the crass jokes.

How do you feel about the writing choice of Radahn as Miquella's chosen king and consort?

Okay rather than try and take the stats for this one, I’m going to try and summarize the bulk of responses best as possible:

The least generous replies say this sucks ass. The most generous usually say “yeah, I see what they were going for, but the execution of this feels very flawed nonetheless.” One respondent states that the emphasis of Miquella’s plotline seemed to be on his choice of consort entirely, rather than his actual motivations or journey to get here.

Many people lament Malenia’s lack in things at all within DLC, past a single mention. A notable amount of people note that they would’ve been more accepting of the consort if it had ended up being Godwyn instead, because of the amount of weight he seemed to have in the base game lore alongside Miquella. At least one respondent laments the disservice “done to monsterfuckers everywhere” that we didn’t even get a physically  monstrous boss in the end.

There’s a couple of people who go “oh yeah this makes sense for the both of them and/or I saw the signs along the way”, but they never go on to elaborate… the longest responses are always from people who are most unhappy, or are fairly understanding, but still ultimately unable to end up terribly pleased with this plot point.

Overall the reception to this plot point is decidedly poor, with the main grievances being how little foreshadowing or apparent basis there was, and how it changed the context of things in base game– such as Radahn’s first boss fight, the battle of Aeonia itself, Jerren’s wishes, and the sacrifices of all the soldiers between both armies. Even any concerns over implications of incest are honestly low priority here.

By far my personal favorite response is “I couldve written a better plot twist with three hoyrs of sleep and a coca col”, so shoutout to that one.

(Bonus) Optional because she's not relevant in the DLC. How do you feel about Ranni as a character and her actions?

I’ll be honest, this one was just because I think people’s thoughts on Ranni are a great judge of narrative comprehension. HAHAHA. But out of 91 responders to this one, most everyone cleared!

The bulk of responses are ultimately “yeah what she did to Godwyn was fucked up, but ultimately I understand it”. A few respondents note her narrative of female autonomy, and state their own reflection in this. Several note that she is selfish, but some aren’t particularly condescending with this and say that by all means, she’s just like the rest of the demigods if not still better than them.

A small handful also note that Ranni and Miquella are essentially foils to one another, where Miquella gives up everything for the sake of his Age of Compassion, but Ranni finds a means to keep her soul. It’s noted that even with his well-intentioned ambitions, he still ultimately fails as a reflection of Marika, whereas Ranni cuts herself from the cycle entirely.

A good handful of responses are little more than “hell yeah girlboss” and “fuck yeah that’s my wife” lol. On the other end, there’s a couple of responders who talk about how much they hate how she’s waifu’d, some disliking her purely because of this. Only about 2-3 responses in here are ones I’d truly consider character hate (without any seemingly justified reason) though.

Overall she’s more praised than not, with most everyone acknowledging her motivations, complexity, and role in the story. She’s often noted for her foils with Miquella, her goals of autonomy and the subsequent sympathy here from cis and trans female responders alike, with many acknowledgments that she is still by no means a saint.

And that's all! Thanks again to all of those who responded, and once more to those who've now read all the results. I still have the individual responses saved, so if I wanted I could go through and try to discern if there's any patterns related to how certain outcomes in opinion happen... but I'm tired!!! Hopefully if nothing else, this survey was a nice way to reflect and to sate some curiosity ✨

[wearethekat]

February Book Reviews: Where the Axe Is Buried by Ray Nayler

I received a free copy of the book from Farrar, Straus, and Giroux in exchange for a fair review. Publish date April 1st.

I requested this book since I enjoyed Nayler's previous novel, The Mountain in the Sea. In Where the Axe Is Buried, the world is split between a Federation ruled by an immortal series of cloned presidents, and nations governed by AI. Programmer Lilia's new invention sets in motion a series of events, from an assassination attempt on the President to the recruitment of an elderly revolutionary living in the taiga, which will change the world irrevocably.

Where the Axe Is Buried is a much more explicitly political book than The Mountsin in the Sea. It's structured in much the same way, with multiple interlinked but separate POV characters interspersed by excerpts from a fictional book, revolutionary Zoya's banned text. Here, the central metaphor is the creosote bush rather than the octopus. The creosote bush forms a system of genetically identical cloned plants, following the root systems of long dead Ice Age trees. Like a flawed governing system, removing the piece of the creosote will not change the shape of the overall plant, dictated by patterns laid down centuries ago. We get the anecdote as a piece of Zoya's book on the very first page, and it recurs as different metaphors--a fungal system, a steppe tsar--throughout the book.

It's always a bit tricky to write a book about revolution. Nayler's a very good writer, and he easily dodges the trap that so many books about war and revolution fall into (ie, mouthing empty platitudes about change as the authors demonstrate that they haven't thought deeply about a complex and loaded subject). Nayler's elegantly constructed near future dystopia is split between an authoritarian future Russian regime and countries ruled by supposedly infallible AIs in a very post LLM way. On the one hand, the Federation has developed refinements that the Soviets or even Orwell never dreamed of, in a panopticon where a tiny mistake could collapse your social score and send you plummeting into a shrinking circle of restricted parole, and then to a forced labor camp and death. Or, alternatively, in the rationalized states ruled by AI, you can work in an horrifically optimized Amazon-style warehouse while your every movement is scrutinized by companies trying to sell you things, to the degree that looking at a soda half a world away for a moment with your face covered can identify you.

Whether Nayler threads the other needle and manage to not say something about revolution which the reader has a strong personal disagreement with is, inevitably, more individual. It held together well enough to be a five star read for me, even if I'd quibble with a few points. Although I do think the open ended conclusion carries a lot of the rhetorical weight here. Nayler gracefully presents you with a possibility for change, rather than attempting to answer the unanswerable question.

An ambitious and sophisticated dystopia about revolution with a compulsively readable pacing. Highly recommended, especially if you liked Nayler's The Mountain in the Sea.

[goldenarmyofficial]

INTO THE GLOW: INSIDE NEON VORTEX

An exclusive Dominion League special from FutureSport Journal by Lin Kael

1. “They don’t play the game. They rewire it.”

There’s a moment—right before Neon Vortex takes the field—when everything stills. The lights at the Glowring don’t dim. They pause. The stadium exhales. The crowd lowers. It’s not fear. It’s not awe. It’s... synchronization.

And then, the signal arrives.

Pink, cyan, shadow. Eight figures pacing into place without a word. Not rebels. Not legends. Just... interference in motion.

In a league full of warriors and tacticians, Neon Vortex doesn’t attack the game. They overwrite it. They move on rhythms you don’t hear until you’ve already lost the beat.

This isn’t a story about dominance. It’s about disruption. And the team built to live inside it.

2. SOVEREIGNS OF SPEED

Nobody remembers when exactly Neon Vortex was founded. That’s how most stories about disruption begin.

The official line is that Coach Syv Kohlen, a former rhythm cognition researcher, drafted the first squad using metronome trials, tempo response tests, and light-delay simulations.

But when you ask the players, they say something different. They say Kohlen didn’t recruit them. They say he tuned them.

“Systems collapse. Patterns dissolve,” Kohlen told me. “But rhythm? That survives. Because rhythm isn’t structure—it’s instinct.”

Watching Neon Vortex train is like witnessing a silent orchestra warm up. No barking. No cones. No hierarchy. Just pulsing drills in partial silence—players darting in waves, switching roles mid-sequence, their breath matching beat cues only they seem to hear.

Midfielder Rey Kiro dances through a cloud of mist. Defender Zane Rho twists into unnatural angles without stumbling. Striker Vexon Ray vanishes behind a training net, reappears on the opposite line like he walked through static.

📎 Training Notes:

Drills change tempo mid-set.

Light-response tests track emotional reaction lag.

Players are never told their positions. They discover them in motion.

“A plan,” says Kohlen, “is just an echo of a moment that hasn’t changed yet. I don’t want echoes. I want evolution.”

And the evolution is vivid. Even the kits glow differently depending on who wears them. Even the field lights shift not with score—but with possession. Kohlen didn’t build a team. He launched a waveform.

3. INTERVIEW: ZENDRIX HALO — THE PROGRAMMER’S EYE

Recorded in Tunnel Chamber B, beneath The Glowring. Interview by Lin Kael.

Zendrix arrives precisely—not early, not late. Silent except for the echo of boots on concrete, his violet-lit eyes scan the empty chamber as if it might be lying to him. He sits without a word, spine straight, legs folded like he’s already calculating airflow. Every breath is deliberate. Every pause is measured. This is not a player waiting to be interviewed. This is a system booting quietly.

LK: You’re the central node for Neon Vortex. Does that come with pressure? ZH: Pressure’s an input. You route it or you crash. I route it. LK: Tomorrow is opening night. Golden Army. Big venue. Big stakes. ZH: They’ll press high. They trust momentum. Momentum is readable. LK: You’ve already mapped them? ZH: I’ve simulated forty-two scenarios. Thirty-two end in midfield seizure by minute sixteen. LK: You make it sound clinical. ZH: Emotion fogs latency. Precision cuts cleaner. LK: Do you enjoy playing? ZH: I enjoy the silence between decisions. The stillness that happens just before you make a move you think is yours. LK: So you don’t react? ZH: I don’t react. I pre-write. You move in real time. I’ve already left that. LK: That sounds isolating. ZH: It’s not. My teammates are the waveform. I’m just the stabilizer. LK: How do you read them? ZH: Vexon is velocity out of sync—he breaks rhythm, on purpose. Axion follows breath over movement. Rixen only moves when intent solidifies. LK: And your style? ZH: I wait for the moment your confidence leans forward. That’s when I cut the line. LK: You don’t celebrate goals. Why? ZH: Because it’s not the end. It’s just proof the code worked. LK: People call you the coder-mage. Do you like that? ZH: Doesn’t matter. Mages draw power from feeling. I draw it from inevitability. LK: One word to describe your play? ZH: Inescapable.

4. THE GLOWRING – WHERE THE FIELD BREATHES

It doesn’t hum. It listens.

The Flux Spiral, known to all fans simply as The Glowring, isn’t the loudest venue in the Dominion League. But it’s the one you feel in your spine.

There are no banners, no chants. Instead, there’s resonance—a low, modulated pulse that shifts with every ball touch. Each seat is rigged with responsive vibro-light threads, reacting to field control. When Zendrix holds midfield? Violet drift. When Vexon charges? Sudden pink flares across the lower bowl.

The lighting doesn’t blind. It adapts. Shadows pulse in tempo. Mist coils and rises in patterns that echo formations. Before kickoff, the entire dome dims and pulses once—a signal: the signal begins.

Crowds don’t cheer randomly. They respond in sync. A thousand rhythms becoming one.

Insert — Side Voice: Riku Laan, substitute winger, age 19, on walking onto the pitch for the first time as a warmup player:

“The first time I stepped onto the Glowring… it felt like I’d walked into someone else’s heartbeat. The lights tracked my pace. The mist rolled at ankle-height. It didn’t feel like I was about to play. It felt like I was about to merge.”

5. INTERVIEW II — VEXON RAY: LIGHT AT SPRINT SPEED

Recorded pitchside, Glowring East Track. Interview by Lin Kael.

He doesn't sit. He jogs in place during the interview, lacing and unlacing his boots between answers. Shirt off. Neon wrist tape. He talks like he runs—blurts, spins, catches himself, and restarts mid-thought like the last sentence was too slow.

LK: Vexon. One word to describe how you play. VEXON: Splash. LK: Splash? VEXON: Yeah. You don’t see a splash forming. You just get hit by it. That’s how I move. One second you're reading the play—the next, you’re soaked in the afterimage. LK: What’s happening in your head during a breakaway? VEXON: It’s gone. It’s not thought. It’s pull. Like gravity flips and now I’m not sprinting, I’m falling forward through a gap that barely exists. I can’t explain the moment between touch one and touch two. It’s blur. Beautiful blur. LK: Do you think defenders can adapt to you? VEXON: They try. That’s their first mistake. If you’re trying to follow, you’re already late. I’m not a route. I’m a system flickering out of sync. LK: People call you the pulse of Neon Vortex. Do you agree? VEXON: I’m the spike. The sudden peak. Zendrix reads tempo. Axion holds it. Rixen deadens it. I break it. LK: How do you prepare for matches? VEXON: Noise. Heat. Two cans of Crosstide Redline—the coldest I can find. Then I sit in the mist tunnel and imagine the crowd as static. I move best when everything else stutters. LK: Last one. Why play this way? VEXON: Because I don’t want to be remembered for scoring. I want people to say: “I didn’t even see him go.”

6. THE CURRENT – NEON VORTEX LINEUP GRID

Calibrated to rhythm. Synced to the Pulse.

They aren’t a formation. They’re a waveform. A grid in constant shift. Every player runs his own pulse signal—but together, they resonate. Some strike like static bursts. Others stall time, letting plays unfold like stretched frequency. No captain, no locked roles. Just alignment.

This is the Current—the active rhythm cycle of Neon Vortex.

⚡ FORWARDS

#11 – VEXON RAY (Striker) – Distortion stride. Scores before defenders register movement. #19 – LEX VALE (Left Winger) – Blurs through ghost lanes. Heat-trail steps. Never repeats. #22 – KAEL NOVA (False Nine) – Cuts through space like memory. Shoots eyes-closed on rhythm.

🔮 MIDFIELDERS

#7 – ZENDRIX HALO (Central Control) – Ultraviolet eyes. Encrypted passes. Sees outcomes before play. #14 – REY KIRO (Attacking Mid) – LED gloves. Spins midfield like vinyl. Drops tempo shifts. #6 – TARIQ VENN (Defensive Mid) – Shadows space, not players. Moves inside silence. #17 – JETT HARMON (Right Mid) – Flank threader. Passes slice formations without sound.

🛡️ DEFENDERS

#4 – AXION DRIFT (Center Back) – Anchor timing. Tackles hit beat-perfect, never early. #3 – ZANE RHO (Left Back) – Legs twitch pre-move. Presence destabilizes attackers. #2 – REMY ZHOU (Right Back) – Shuts down intent. Reads before contact. Silent lock.

🧤 KEEPERS

#1 – RIXEN KODE (Keeper) – Still as code. Moves only when fate is forced.

🔄 BENCH

Blaise "Refract" Quen – Backup Keeper Milo “Edgeware” Haan – Pressure buffer Sorin “Bytecrash” Verne – Tempo breaker Jorren “Pulsefeed” Alix – Mid-sync restarter Tav “Sonarlink” Drel – Lane dualizer

7. INTERVIEW III – RIXEN KODE: Firewall in Gloves

In the shadows of neon thunder and attack surges, one figure waits, unmoved. Rixen Kode does not shout. He does not celebrate. He watches.

The Glowring’s pre-match lightshow still fades when Rixen enters the field. The goalkeeper’s entrance is silent, slow, and deliberate—opposing fans lower their cheers by instinct. His visor reflects nothing but field lines. When he stops at the edge of the box, he pauses, left heel lifted by exactly one centimeter, and breathes in. Nothing more.

INTERVIEW EXCERPT:

LK: You don’t seem to move much in the warmups. RK: “I’m already playing. The game starts when I enter the air.” “Stillness is a weapon. The game flinches before I do.” LK: How do you track the action so precisely? RK: “I don’t track it. I feel the field tense. Every player has a pulse. The moment it breaks rhythm, I know where the strike’s coming from.” Q: And the visor? Some say it’s augmented. RK: “No need. My body is tuned. Visor keeps me quiet.” Q: You barely speak to your defenders. How do you coordinate? RK: “They breathe with me. When I exhale, they close. When I blink, they break.”

Rixen doesn’t smile when the interview ends. He simply nods and turns away. The moment he disappears into the corridor tunnel, the hallway temperature drops.

8. SUPPORT CORE – SYNCING THE SYSTEM

Pulse from the Ground.

Behind every rhythm, someone sets the tempo.

In Neon Vortex, the visible brilliance is wired to unseen precision. The team’s cohesion—light-speed as it may appear—is calibrated behind the sidelines by the Support Core: Coach Syv Kohlen, the kinetic-mythic mascot Glythorn, and the all-male sideline unit known only as the Flux Crew.

They don’t cheer. They don’t shout. They sync.

🎙️ MINI INTERVIEW: KIO VANT – Waterboy in the Flux Crew

“You can’t just run out and squirt water in someone’s mouth here. You have to know the beat. You time it. You move like you're part of the pass. When Vexon calls for fluid, he’s mid-burst—your step has to match his third stride. Any slower, he misses. Any faster, he trips the rhythm. I train for that.”

“We don’t talk during matches. Coach doesn’t want clutter. But we signal. Zendrix gave us a pattern language. One blink, one knuckle touch, one heel-tap. That’s enough.”

“People think we’re just support. That’s fine. But ask Vortex what happens when we’re missing sync. You’ll see it in their eyes. They feel the current falter.”

Kio’s eyes flash with pale certainty as he leans forward, a silent beat pulsing through his fingers. Behind him, the rest of the Flux Crew begin warmup pacing—measured, graceful, and perfectly out of sync until the moment they collapse into form.

Support Core Breakdown

Coach Syv Kohlen – The Harmonic Disruptor Delivers instruction through silence, vibration, and predictive rhythm.

Mascot: Glythorn – The Signal Warden Avian-abstract polygonal specter. Prism-wings sync with crowd rhythm. Glitches into display at tempo breaks, performs ritual “Signal Spread” on goal surges.

Flux Crew – Field Sync Division 5–7 sideline operatives. Assigned to match player rhythms and recalibrate between pulses. Never speak on field. Kio leads the Left Channel. The others follow cue.

9. CLOSING SPREAD – “LIGHTBREAK APPROACHES”

“We don’t enter the match. We upload.” – Zendrix Halo “They’ll blink. That’s all I need.” – Vexon Ray “If you’re chasing us, you’re already off-beat.” – Kio Vant

⚔️ The Dominion League Begins Neon Vortex vs. The Golden Army Match 1 – Flux Spiral / The Glowring “Lightbreak: The First Pulse”

One team shines like heritage. The other flickers like warning. Let the signal burst. ____ Want to face such formidable opponents with the Golden Army ? Join us by contacting @polo-drone-125 @goldenherc9 @polo-drone-001 or @brodygold.

[moreofthatdrowse]

Kris Guštin Hair Debate: Results

The results are in. First off, I'd like to point out that this survey/research was carried to investigate if there might be any cultural patterns in the debate regarding Kris's hair colour. I don't believe there's any definite answer to the question apart from whatever Kris says. Other than that, though, it's just about culture and language being different. Results below the cut!

The end results were as follows: Brunette 82, Blonde 45, and Ginger 4. We got answers from 34 different countries! Apologies to the Scots. I had to lump you together with the English since some people wrote UK, some wrote England and some wrote Scotland.

The lower the score, the bigger advantage for blonde. The higher the score, the bigger advantage for brunette. A score of 0 means blonde and brunette were equal. I don't know if Jan would approve of my usage of the term 'coefficient' but you probably get what I mean.

Here are the results mapped out. @sparkles-oflight very kindly helped me with making the maps more readable, so thank you @sparkles-oflight! If you click on the links, the maps are also available interactively.

Brunette answers

Blonde answers

Ginger answers

And finally, the results of comparing the blonde/brunette coefficient

To me, there seems to be a geographical/cultural difference on people's stance in the question, with Northern Europe leaning more towards brunette and Central Europe leaning more towards blonde. What do you think? Do you think we can draw any conclusions?

[detectivemarvelingcomics]

Ik you're working hard on the next nycv chapter buuuuuut if it's okay can i ask for more cute pre-isekai!batsis stuff with the batboys 🥺 if you're okay with it ofc!

Oh I'm always down for writing stuff about NYCV, sure I'll do like some bullet points or something

Not a chapter but y'all get some NYCV stuff too! Also to those who haven't read it this should be readable without having prior knowledge of the series so feel free to sit back and enjoy some Batboys fluff!

Tag list since it's technically NYCV content: @gabytodd @peachydokii @marshmallow12435 @f0leysgurl @luminaaz @lolsnacks @akuri-shinsou @pansinspace @time-shardz @lovely-maryj @urminebutidontwantyou @y3oudsc @rainnyydaysworld  @underworlder @franini @mayo-0-o 

NYCV!Batsis & the Batboys

[Not Your Classic Vigilante Masterlist]

Dick Grayson

As we all know, he's the first batsib, talk about a high bar to reach (ba dum tss), and luckily for you he was an amazing older brother.

Fun where it counts, doting 24/7, protective when the situation calls for it, and stern when he has to be. There's a reason why you looked up to him more than your father in some regards.

Whenever he's off on a mission somewhere far away, he sends you postcards. You keep them in a box under your bed and you haven't thrown a single one away! Each card had a cheesy joke written on them, something to make you smile while he was gone is how he signed them all off with.

There was one time he was on 'Babysitter Duty' (as they later put it) and you ended up staging a bank robbery in the ballroom while he played the Boy Wonder (of course) who saved the day! (Poor Alfred was nominated to be Condiment King).

He's actually insufferable, his coworkers used to hate him because of how often he'd pull his phone/wallet/photobook/whatever could physically hold your picture just to gush and say "Look at my baby sister isn't she perfect?!" "Dude, that's, like, a whole ass teenager" "Shut up."

Although you'd always shown interest in his vigilante work, up until after the whole "I will never be a vigilante thing" much later, Dick was always very very careful in keeping you away from it. Hell, you didn't even know he was a Robin until you wandered into his room one evening when he came back from patrol.

By the time you'd figured him out, he did everything he could to keep you away from harm's way. You just weren't trained to handle yourself, and Dick would be a leader before he was your brother, as much as he'd hate to admit it. So, to keep you safe, he kept you away.

But, when he was there, he made sure to be the best older brother you could ask for. Gifts, advice, jokes, confidants, anything you'd ask. After all, he had competition.

Jason Todd

AKA, the Competition. He's the next batsib you got and so far he apparently holds the title for 'Best Sibling' (according to a ranking system you didn't know about that's being score kept by Alfred, in second place is Cass, for those wondering).

If Dick was the doting older brother then Jason was the annoying one. The kind of brother to open the door to your room, stare at you for five minutes, and walk away like nothing happened. The kind of brother to pull a 'I'm not even bothering you!' kind of move.

But, when it comes down to it, oh this dude's taking a bullet for you. I mentioned it once in the story but he'd always wanted a younger sister and bam he got one, sure he thought you were a spoiled brat at first (and in some ways you were) but hell he's damn sure he'll keep you that way if it meant you'd always be, well, you.

There were some days he'd wonder what it would be like if you'd switched places. If he was the one with the silver spoon and you were the Gotham street rat and nope, shake that thought out of his head. Without you he's sure he'd have gone off the deep end in this vigilante shit.

As much as you'd argue that you both secretly hated each other, you'd remember the time when Jason broke his hand punching Conner Kent in the face. He'd just come back to the family and while you were both getting caught up, you let slip that you broke up because he fell in love with someone else and... whoops. Good thing Tim was there to talk some sense into him.

For the record, Conner did lose his footing, but he argues it's because he was caught off guard, while Jason swears up and down it's because the Lazarus Pit made him stronger, or something like that. You try not to think about it, you're surprised you're still allowed within Titan tower.

He'd never admit it, but of the batsibs he actually knows you best. If the others have questions about what you'd like or how you'd react to something they'd ask Jason. He'd always answer in a way that would wave them off, but he's never been wrong.

Jason, as cold-shouldered as he could be, he has a soft spot for you. If he ever saw you in trouble he's definitely going to step between whatever's going on, don't doubt him on that.

Tim Drake

The first younger brother and, in his argument, therefore the best. Ironically since he was the first younger one you did dote on him a little too much, being the one "good cop" figure in the manor while he was training to be a Robin.

Of course, though you were on the civilian side of things, he actually looked up to you in ways he never could with Dick or Bruce. While they're mainly for the vigilante stuff, you're just there to make sure he doesn't forget who he is: Timothy Drake and not just a Robin.

You were really trying to replicate what your older brothers did for you with Tim, though it was only a little more difficult with his background. Hard to get gifts for someone who probably already has it, and hard to keep secrets and surprises from someone who's good at figuring them out, but you always figured out a way, and those ways always made him happy to see.

Thursdays are Tim and (Y/N) days, everyone in the family knows it. It started out as a mini tradition to get Tim out of the house every now and then and soon it became routine, it was the time you both took to catch up with each other and this especially became true after you went to college. Those times were precious for him, and he always looked forward to it.

Until, that is, other members started crashing it. It started with Dick coincidentally running into you both and suddenly now Jason's already sitting at your booth? And Stephanie? And Cass? Barbara?! What happened to Tim and (Y/N) time?!

But, he had to admit, it was rare to see them all getting along well like this. He couldn't complain, as long as you all got to spend time together that's all that mattered. And, in the end, it was always you two anyway. You are one of his greatest confidants, and he is one of yours likewise. Despite the short age gap, you often found that you shared a lot in common with him. Maybe it was because of your similar backgrounds, or maybe it was because you doted on him so much.

Tim looks up to you. More than you think, and more that you'd expect. Every time you reminded him that you were just a civilian part of it seemed wrong to him. You're as much a part of the family as he is, or as anyone is, and usually it would be him to remind you of that when he caught you distancing yourself again.

You couldn't hide anything from each other, you could read him so easily and he was just good at finding things out. And when it came to being middle siblings, well, that's a pact in and of itself.

Damian Wayne

When you'd heard about getting another younger brother, a blood related one at that, you were ecstatic. Of course, you had Tim, but Tim had his responsibilities to the Drakes too, Damian was a Wayne and so were you, it was a little different.

Sure, his appearance was... sudden. His first impressions not so great either, but you could read him well. He was so young when he came into your father's care and underneath the harsh training and the poisoned words was still that little boy he is and you were determined to help him remember that it was okay to be a boy.

Taking him to the arcade, buying him books, and treating him out for meals were just a few points off of a list of things you've done to make him feel comfortable. You're not a vigilante, you can't help him with training or anything else, but you can help him in other ways and you tried to show that to him.

It took forever. Maybe about a year or so for him to finally open up to you, but once he did it was like a triumph to you, and you knew that you did well when one day you woke up and saw him fast asleep at the foot of your bed, still clad in pajamas and eyes slightly puffy from whatever happened the night before. He's still a boy. You'd remind that to everyone when necessary.

After a while, he would come to you to ask about civilian things, troubles at school, troubles with making friends, and even troubles at galas. And every time you were there to help him out, giving him a few tips and tricks on how to avoid the paprazzi, maybe a clue here and there about what to look out for when looking for friends, and, of course, study tips so he didn't lose his mind in academy.

One day, while waiting to pick him up, there was a knock at your window. It was a woman you'd never seen before. She wore a headscarf that covered her hair and a pair of sunglasses that partially concealed her identity and, hell, if you didn't know any better you'd think that was your own mother. But something told you that she wasn't there to just say hello and, naively, you opened your door and let her in.

She sat at the passenger's seat, everything about her poised and elegant to the point that you were near in awe at her disposition and, quietly, she spoke, "thank you, for everything you've done for Damian." Talia al Ghul, she had to be, why else would she be here? You hadn't heard much about her, you'd barely even seen a few pictures of her from Damian's belongings, but here she was. "Of course," you'd answer, "I know it's not the same, but I know a little bit of how it feels to be alone." And to this she nodded, with a small smile, and with one glance out the car she left, moments later being replaced by Damian.

"So, where are we going today?" He'd ask. You'd give him a list of places, ask him to choose one, and you'd head there with him in tow. One of his favorites had always been the park.

Bonus: Bruce Wayne

I had to include bat-dad. Despite how I write him, he actually really is a good father, just not in the way you'd expect him to be. Y'all hold out for his arc, I promise it will be good!

When you were first dropped off at the manor, you didn't know what to expect from him. He was this huge imposing figure who was clad in black with a scowl on his face, you thought he hated you already. You were so young at the time, how could you have known any better?

Whenever he spoke to you, he'd crouch down and speak in a gentle voice. Whenever you'd ask him of something, even if it seemed like he didn't hear you, you'd see your answer within the next few days. He'd build you a whole other manor if you asked for it.

If only he wasn't so busy, juggling his role as CEO and Batman, he barely had enough time for the both of those, let alone time to raise a daughter, but he tried to show you that he was there in other ways. Fully funding your schooling was a given, but whenever you'd show interest in anything suddenly you'd see more of it in the manor.

When you'd expressed to Dick that you were interested in the piano, you found one in the house the next day. When you'd told Jason that you wanted to read more of a certain author, her entire collection was in the library. You once told Tim that you wanted to go to Metropolis U for college and, out of nowhere, there was an offer for a full ride. You and Damian used to go over to the Kent's to play a certain video game since neither of you had the time to bring it over and, would you look at that, the manor now has a game room.

A series of misunderstandings is what plagued this relationship. One from a father who barely felt the love of a parent and the other from a daughter who vyed for it. You both found your own way of communicating with each other, and it wasn't until the very end where it got strained.

But could you blame him?

You called him a monster.

You didn't even let him explain himself.

But, truthfully, even if you did...

He wasn't sure if you'd understand it.

Hell, he didn't even understand it himself.

All he felt was the heartbreak of realizing he made a mistake that couldn't be undone.

[canmom]

100%ed neon white.

it took about 32 hours. lots to say about this game...

mechanics/design

it is fr an absolute tour de force of mechanics and level design. call it a platformer or an FPS (it's kinda both), it delivers a sense of speed and flow like few games I've played. since this is a pretty big inspiration for types of game I might want to make (such as the backburned THRUST//DOLL project) let me break it down a bit.

the learning curve is excellent. like many games, it gradually introduces new movement options with interesting ways to combine them, and levels themed around the new movement option. but the shortcut hints system adds an extra dimension. essentially, levels are scored on time, with bronze/silver/gold/ace medals; generally speaking the level will guide you along a route, and a clean run will get you the gold, which will unlock a hint to guide you to a shortcut which will let you reach the ace. the ace times are far from optimal, but do tend to require a bit of execution skill.

the result of this design is that it's hard to get stuck, but you are gradually given an introduction to speedrun routing over the course of the game. I was, inevitably, the type of player to insist on getting an ace on each level (and grabbing the gift) before moving on, but it is totally optional. that said, it's perfectly designed to retry levels until you nail it: restarting is near instant, the music doesn't get interrupted, and it's very easy to get into a flow state, gradually getting more familiar with the level and discovering new tricks.

along with this is the gift system, required to unlock additional dialogues and backstory scenes. every level has a gift box hidden somewhere, and while this isn't timed, it takes on more of a puzzle aspect as you have to figure out the right way to use the level's movement resources to platform to the gift.

the design of the levels has something in common with a Sonic level: a series of rapid dashes forwards interspersed with moments of floating in the air, when you need to spot the next thing to target. generally speaking it's built to facilitate flow: if you're on the main route, you typically get a movement card just at the moment you'll need it, mixing between sections of shooting and using the discard to keep you on your toes. (even so, it does kind of have a rhythm game aspect). the level design, colour palette etc. does a solid job of guiding your eye towards the next place to go.

enemies are stationary, and only barely a hazard - generally more of a tool. they're part of the level design, with many of the later levels designed around specific enemies which either kill other enemies or help you move. since most levels require you to kill all the demons 'when to kill which enemy and how' is a large part of the routing, but generally speaking you kill enemies nearly instantly if you're on pace.

I ended up playing most of the game on controller; there is a pretty helpful aim assist that makes this possible at all, though I switched to kb+m on the last few levels where rapid aiming became more important. in my previous post I said the controls are 'tight' - what I mean by that more precisely is essentially loads of air control. indeed, you have pretty much the same horizontal acceleration in the air and on the ground, making it very easy to steer into position to line up moves.

in general I think a huge aspect that makes this game work is that it's very predictable. there is essentially zero RNG beyond the chaos of physics; enemies have predictable attack patterns and always stand in the same place, so you can plan like 'I'll grab the shotgun and shoot that guy then dash through that guy which will give me the rifle and let me dash into that balloon' etc. etc. it is also very visually readable, making it pretty easy to make a split second judgement of where to go next while hurtling through the air.

this is exactly how speedrunners tend to approach games, minimising sources of randomness and exploiting predictable behaviours; in general the genius of this game is to take the jank out of speedrunning so that you don't have to master complicated tech or rely on RNG to get the experience of gradually refining your movement through a level.

but, it's not just 'easy mode speedrunning'. even just looking at friends' times, I can see there is a huge degree of room for improvement; the global leaderboard even more so. there are special secret red medals if you can beat the lead developers' times, of which I have so far managed to get only one (it took me by surprise on a late-game level), and even then I'm still like forty seconds behind a friend's score on that level. I bet there's some crazy tech in the fastest runs. maybe at some point I'll go back and see if I can tighten up my times on other levels, though I feel pretty satisfied as thing stand.

all in all, should I manage to return to solo game dev projects (or even if we ever make a speed game at work), there is a lot to learn from Neon White.

narrative/aesthetic

so mechanically, very positive. on the aesthetic aspect: it's a very slick game, particularly with machine girl's latter-day breakcore soundtrack (machine girl is the most trans-ass name for a band but is actually two guys, unless some eggs remain uncracked here...). the UI flows very nicely - not quite as flashy as something like Persona 5 but definitely in that direction. it's a game that wants you to know it's stylish; Paradise Killer comes to mind.

and visually it's very solid! the levels are varied and, while generally consisting of 'floating architecture over an ocean', appealingly lit and coloured. the enemies have distinctive silhouettes and there are some cool unusual designs, like the giant laser heads, as well as some classics, like mimic chests (not particularly stealthy).

but of course the main visual aspect is the character portraits, illustrated by Rebecca Ryan. which is to say: white clothes with monochrome accents according to each character's colour name (curiously the characters are known only by colours in both life and death), animesque illustration, and hannya masks. and a bunch of symbolic manga-like expressions (blush, anxiety gloom, etc.) these portraits (plus, here and there, CGs) show up in the visual novel-style story sections and generally speaking, they work - if in a very 'Americans paying tribute to anime' way.

the story... most of what people react to is the whole weebcore thing it's got going on, finding it either cringe or endearing depending on taste. I feel like there is little to say about this that has not already been said. apparently the intent was to fit the style of dubbed anime, and... yep, it does.

instead I want to talk about... the religion thing! because what's going on there!

well, it's not that complicated on one level. the smarmy 'believers' stormed heaven and killed god, setting up essentially an american mall in its place. but this 'heaven' is actually Sheol; God was managing it using two macguffins called the Books of Life and Death. your goal turns into restoring God to His rightful place. these Books come with a Star of David on the cover, with a bunch of smaller ones around it...

the game is also however full of crosses, which generally speaking seem to be the Believers' symbol/weapon, as seen here in the Third Temple area (you know... not clear why this is in the afterlife as opposed to Jerusalem)

so it's fairly easy to read: most of the old school 'Heaven as it should be' stuff is associated with Jewish symbolism, but the dang Christians ruined everything.

the plot, meanwhile, rather heavy-handedly focuses on a theme of the importance of forgiveness. broadly speaking the story is that our lovable MCs - dorky MC White, slightly dommy love interest Red, childish and violent Violet, and laid back bro Yellow - who were all treated as disposable tools by the group's abusive leader Green. who is basically Vicious.

right down to the hairstyle!

the characters in this game, while decently voice acted, are all terribly one note archetypes. the story flashbacks almost all concern the botched job where Green - with White's support - led the whole group to their deaths for the sake of a long held grudge.

later in the story, Green gets a new 'destroy this shoddy universe' motivation, but it is honestly pretty unconvincing. probably the best aspect of his character is the dark yaoibait interactions with his object of obsession White, but this isn't the kind of game to go all-in on that front (its attitude to sexuality is very much a 'tease but don't depict').

all this leads up to a final decision to basically decide whether Green goes to heaven or hell. if you send him upstairs, White also gets to move on (I picked this since the game was blatantly angling very hard towards this being the true end); if you don't, White apparently remains trapped in Sheol until the next cycle. the thrust of it is basically you need to forgive and move on instead of obsessing over those who have wronged you.

Green remains unrepentant throughout - if you Book of Life him, he's not exactly happy about this, going like 'what do you have to gain from this' lol. the point is pretty explicitly not 'your enemies deserve forgiveness' and more 'don't let them live rent free in your head' I guess.

as a theme this is... reasonable enough? probably best not to stay mad about shit if you can avoid it, though certainly easier said than done. but the presentation suffers a lot from, well, telling/showing issues. you know this is the theme because towards the end of the game, the characters talk about it, a lot. ironically for a game in which you get sermonised at by comedically smug preachers in between chapters, it feels very much like sitting in a sermon: abstract ideals that don't really connect because the characters are so one-dimensional.

(it turned out, reading the credits, that one of the co-writers of this game was Aevee Bee, of WKTD/HWBM. I have lingering beef with her because she joined in brigading a friend of mine out of the indie game sphere over spurious vague accusations back in the day - a peripheral player but still very much on the wrong side of it, and to my knowledge she never apologised or anything. so it all feels kind of 'bit rich coming from you' for her to go off about the importance of forgiveness and moving on. but, even aside from that, on a craft level the story's approach to its theme already felt heavy-handed and unconvincing.)

beyond that... I'm just plain not convinced that resurrecting God is all that. the game's presentation of God is basically distorted audio and blurry shapes for text, with the characters reacting as if they understand; the Angels are presented as cute cartoon cats with the explicit conceit that this is just White's brain comprehending the incomprehensible (though we do get a brief wheel of eyes appearance near the end). but the reason the plot has to play out as it does, with God essentially choosing White to put things right because of the remorse in his soul... well, let's just say I don't much like chosen-one narratives in general, and the Abrahamic set dressing does not help. it feels very arbitrary, but also a bit straightforward and comfy for all this vague guesturing towards being strange and alien.

all that said, as much as I'm ragging on it, I do appreciate that it tried for something. a distinctive identity which doesn't fit my taste is better than a game with no identity. the character interactions are generally pretty charmingly silly. White and Red do at least make a convincing couple. Sungwon Cho is there, playing a father-figure office worker angel in his characteristic style.

other observations

the game's team is very small, with one developer (Esposito) doing most of the programming and mechanics; besides that we have a couple of level designers, a couple of artists... However, it had the funding of Annapurna Interactive, who recently made the news for basically imploding, but have been a pretty big player in the indie sphere of late. and obvs Machine Girl are kinda huge in their scene, but really a lot of the names are also pretty familiar ones if you've been hanging around indie games for a while. it's sort of like... indie but by broadly established names. still, small team makes me wonder: how feasible is it to make a game along these lines, either as a solo project or with a similarly small team at work?

what is notable is that it seems to have gone through a pretty long period of iteration; apparently an earlier version of it used randomly drawn cards, before the current predictable speedrunning focus came in as a clearly better approach. which is interesting: it has such a laser focused design that I would have guessed that it would be a speedrunning game from the outset. definitely a testament to experimenting around different ideas, which is really the essence of game dev.

the main thing I feel like I should take away if I return to working on THRUST//DOLL - which had a very similar planned structure, of fast levels that focus on time and visual novel sections to tell the story - is that if you're moving at high speed, it's absolutely essential that the information that you need to make a decision is readable, and acting on it is not too finicky. I might have to rethink the bullet-hell aspect, and introduce similar 'snap to enemy' mechanics to the dash abilities in the later stages. something to think about another day, anyway, I'm not sure when I might be able to continue that project.

all in all, fun game, very addicting, I have so much work to catch up on now...

[androcola]

no way someone used the act as a guideline to say they know english grammar that’s so fucking funny. credibility does not come from citing your score on the least known HIGH SCHOOL LEVEL test. i wasn’t even talking about grammar, i was talking about readability. i would rather gouge my own eyes out than have to guess who is talking. those block paragraphs make readers tune out immediately because it’s just too much to take in at once. by the way, that anon and everyone else proved my point of woodworks. when do they ever talk to you one on one? ask how you’re doing? i’m sure they don’t care about that, they’re just offended i called something they mildly enjoyed bad. once again i implore you to reflect and not react. i genuinely believe that you can change but maybe i just have too much hope for everyone else around you.

its a LAUGH that you're now trying to back peddle and act like you're Just Trying To Help me when you literally came here full swing straight up insulting me. you came here first throwing PERSONAL insults at me. you lost your right to criticize. id love you to have some balls and come off anon and show me Your work. you don't want me to reflect on shit. you came here to tear me down and now you're trying to act like the bigger person

[sisselkalle]

I'm very late on posting this but I'm tapping out on editing this for now, I'm somewhat burnt out on it. Most of it's (poorly) translated but as an added bonus for everyone, everything that was originally in black-and-white (character renders, illustrations) is now available in colour and the covers were remade with higher quality assets and translated The only downsides are 1.) I scaled down the scans for easier workability, so these aren't the full size scans (but they're still readable), and 2.) Sound of the Wind and Starry Night remain untranslated

If/when I recover from burnout, I'll go back and completely overhaul this either with the full size scans or get my hands on some piano scoring software and just rewrite this entire book from scratch

It can be downloaded here (Internet Archive) but can also be found here (Drive) in case it gets removed from Internet Archive

Also as an added note (that's also in the Internet Archive description): if you own this book and/or can provide a better English translation, please contact me

[spikulec]

A second Spriggan with the species abilities:

Creature Type: Humanoid, Seelie Ylfe Size: Medium (~260 cm | ~8.5 feet) Age: Once they reach adulthood, Spriggan cease to age. Like all the Ylfe, their species can live forever if no major harm befalls them. Diet: Plant-based. Common Appearance: Heavy chitinous carapace shell (with wings hidden inside). Many Spriggan have horns and/or antennae. Spriggan are visually based on beetles

Ability Score Increase: +2/+1 Any (by Tasha’s Rules) or +2 Wis/+1 Con (By Classic Rules). Ignore this point for ‘24 Rules.

Heavy Flight: Short, insectile wings allow you to perform heavy flight over short distances. You gain a flight speed equal to your walking speed. However, your flight produces a low, vibrating sound that can be heard clearly within 100 feet from you, and faintly heard out from another 100 feet. The flight speed has no effect if you are wearing heavy armor. They may, however, wear medium armour. Chitinous Armor: You have +1 to AC regardless of the armor type you are wearing Carved Sigils: You choose a hard flat surface no larger than 1x1 feet, for example a rock, a wall, your shell. Spending 1 minute/10 full turns, you can carve a sign that is readable only by the creature type of your choice (ylfe, humans, townsfolk). The sign can contain a message of up to 10 words and contains emotional charge of your choice. Regardless of where you are, you know your approximate location relative to the sign. The marking is visible to all the creatures with eyes and/or sensitive to magic. It can easily be removed or destroyed. If it gets destroyed, the message can no longer be read and you can’t navigate towards it. Green Warden: As an action, you can detect the presence of any plant or fungus within range (proficiency score x 10 squares). The plant has to be alive and healthy. Upon casting the ability, you learn the location and the approximate amount of plants within range. When you consume a fragment of such a plant, you can see what has been happening in its vicinity for the past hour, as if you were standing in its place. Faerie’s Circle: By spending 10 minutes, you carve a magic circle into the ground. The area can’t be larger than 10 feet radius, but no smaller than 5x5 feet. As soon as you finish, the edges of the carving immediately overgrow with mushrooms, flowers, or any other type of plant of your choice. Regardless of the form, the circle visually stands out from its surroundings, emanating a magical aura and lasting for the next 7 days. If any creature (except for Beasts, who are immune) enters the circle, it must make a Wisdom saving throw against your spellcasting DC, or (8 + Proficiency + Cha/Int/Wis) if you wield no magic. On a failed save, the unfortunate being immediately gets lost for 24 hours. Your target:

Cannot point out directions, even with a map or compass 

Makes all Survival checks with disadvantage 

Cannot memorize new landmarks. 

If they try to recognize a road, place, or landmark they have seen before, they have to make a History check with disadvantage 

If they start a journey while affected by the power of your circle, they move in a random direction, mistakenly convinced that they know the right way

Every Spriggan also gains following traits from Seelie creature type:

Dark Materials: Ylfe are not native to our world and have a natural aversion to metal. Under no circumstances can they willingly come into physical contact with any object made of this material. If a metallic object touches flesh of the Ylfe, they immediately become Frightened of it and remain so, until the physical contact with metal stops Creeping Shadow: The Seelie fear the shadows, and if they are in absolute darkness for too long, their body and mind begin to suffer. For each six hours spent in total darkness or in the Shadowfell, you gain 1 Exhaustion Point. Yet, you cannot get lost in Feywild without a direct magical influence. You do not suffer any negative consequences from Dark Materials or Creeping Shadow while in this plane. Light of the Paths: Every Seelie learns the Light cantrip and can cast it without material components, summoning a light that lasts for 24 hours, even if the caster becomes unconscious. Luminous Court: You can expand your mind to connect with your home realm, the Feywild. By spending one 1 minute concentrating, you can sense other Seelies, and all the creatures/objects from the Feywild within a 100ft (~30 meters) radius. You can use this ability the number of times equal to your proficiency bonus. 

[beanieman]

I hate how spellchecking programs will mark down your work for using words that are "too big" or "too uncommon." For multiple reasons, seeing a word you've never seen before and then using context clues to define its meaning is a good thing.

For one, you can't learn what a word means if you don't know it exists. People expand their vocabulary by seeing new words and going, "Oh! I didn't know there was a word for that. That's neat." And two, it's important for media literacy that someone can look for context clues.

Someone should be able to figure out what the word "accumulate" means from seeing it in the sentence "She wanted to accumulate as much money as possible." And if big words are discouraged, then people are less likely to learn that skill because it's not being actively taught. Which is a blow to media literacy overall.

To further prove my point, I put this post in Grammerly and I was given a 73% readability score. The words they docked off points for were "accumulate," "uncommon," "vocabulary," "discouraged," and, most ironically, "literacy."

[xxnashiraxx]

With Stars to Fill My Dream (14) - I've Held On but I Feel a Storm Approaching

Ahhhh I'm so exicted for this one!! I still remember the first draft a few months ago- fights are hard to write, btw- and how long it took to get it readable, and I'm proud! And so excited at the build-up this chapter brings to the story! God, this is the one, guys- we've surpassed 100K!!! I am so so so proud of myself and I know it may just sound like words, but I have never committed to a story like I've committed to this one, and I would like to announce that the rest of the story is fully outlined- there will, of course, be things I'm sure I'll tweak or add, but buckle up because this fic will see a spectacular end and a sequel! Thanks for hanging with me on the journey so far!!! 🫶

✧˖ Release Schedule: Every 2 Weeks ˖✧

Summary: The group frees Halsin and works their way through the shattered temple, facing down it's three leaders: Minthara, Dror Ragzlin, and Gut. As they fight through the scores and goblins with a bear at their side, Astarion and Ofelia continue their dance of blind longing and bitter manipulation until she's forced to finally confront her feelings at his demand.

Some silliness, and some angst layer today's installment for your enjoyment! 💕

Pairing: Astarion x female!Durge

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 6,945

AO3

Here are some screenshots, and a bit of funny dialogue below the cut that's been one of my favorite bits I've written!

✧˖Tag List: @khywren @allymcfee @pinkberrytea

“I have several scrolls and potions of feather fall. If you feel the ladder is too perilous, we can use one of them together and I will hold your hand as we descend?��� Astarion doesn’t even have time to cut off Gale’s pathetic offer before Ofelia is violently shaking her head, taking a step back.

“No thank you.” Her voice is meek as a mouse and Lae’zel rolls her eyes.

“This seems to be one of the many passageways to the Underdark,” Halsin says, stooping low to inspect the hole before rising to address them. “There are still many of them, most forgotten, and I’d wager this one hasn’t been used in a hundred years, back when this temple was last active.”

“I wonder what lies beneath,” Wyll murmurs, his reverent gaze seeming to penetrate the shadows as he peers down below.

“The Underdark, probably,”

“Ha ha, Astarion.”