#and like. genuinely how do you engage with that

[bratzkoo]

our three year plan pt. 2 | wonwoo

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: chaebol heir! wonwoo x chaebol heiress!/ nurse! reader Genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut Rating: PG-15 to NC-17 Word count: 3k~ Warnings/note: wonwoo's pov that i wanted to write so treat this as chapter 1.2

summary: you think your life is ruined when your parents announced that you’re marrying the heir of a tech chaebol; jeon wonwoo. so you offered him a plan, pretend to be in love until you can fake a catastrophe to break the engagement.

jeon wonwoo thinks his life just got better when his parents announced that he’s marrying the heiress of the medical group. his long time crush and basically the woman of his dreams. so when you offered him your plan, he’s going to use it to make you fall in love with him

masterlist

The first week of cohabitation passed in a strange dance of politeness and careful boundaries. Y/N and Wonwoo established routines that minimized awkward encounters—she took early morning showers, he preferred evenings; she often worked night shifts, he was typically gone before dawn for early meetings. When their paths did cross, conversation remained cordial but superficial.

Wonwoo cooked dinner most evenings he was home, leaving covered plates in the refrigerator with neatly written reheating instructions when their schedules didn't align. Y/N found herself oddly touched by this thoughtfulness, though she reminded herself not to read too much into it. This was, after all, a business arrangement.

On Friday morning, Y/N was enjoying a rare day off when her phone chimed with a message from Wonwoo:

My parents are expecting us for dinner tonight. 7 PM. I can pick you up at 6:30.

Reality crashed back. Of course their arrangement would include family obligations. She texted back a simple confirmation, then spent the next hour staring at her closet, suddenly aware that she had no idea what to wear to dinner with her fake future in-laws.

Another text from Wonwoo arrived as if he'd sensed her dilemma:

Casual elegant is fine. My mother appreciates understated sophistication. Don't worry too much—you'll impress them regardless.

Y/N wasn't sure if she should be grateful for the guidance or unnerved by his perception. She settled on a simple navy dress with subtle gold accessories—professional enough to show she took the dinner seriously, but not trying too hard.

At precisely 6:30, Wonwoo's Tesla pulled into the driveway. Y/N had expected him to honk or text, but instead, he came to the door, knocking politely as if he were picking her up for a real date rather than a performance for his parents.

When she opened the door, she was momentarily taken aback. Gone was the casual Wonwoo she'd grown accustomed to seeing around the house. In his place stood the corporate heir in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, his usually tousled hair styled neatly, his round glasses exchanged for contacts that somehow made his gaze more intense.

"You look nice," he said, his eyes briefly taking in her appearance with what seemed like genuine appreciation.

"So do you," she responded automatically, then caught herself. This wasn't a date; there was no need for compliments.

The drive to his parents' estate was mostly silent, but as they approached the imposing gates, Wonwoo cleared his throat.

"Before we go in, we should discuss how we met."

Y/N blinked. "We've known each other since childhood, haven't we? Through family connections?"

"Yes, but that doesn't explain how we fell in love," Wonwoo pointed out. "They'll want the story. My mother especially."

Love story. The words hung between them, a reminder of the lie they were about to perform.

"What do you suggest?" Y/N asked.

Wonwoo's hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel. "The closest to the truth is usually the most convincing. We reconnected at the tech-medical conference last year. The one your father keynoted."

Y/N vaguely remembered the event—a three-day bore of corporate networking that her father had insisted she attend. "I don't recall seeing you there."

Something flickered across Wonwoo's face. "I was there. We even spoke briefly during the reception." At her blank look, he added, "You were more focused on the doctor from Johns Hopkins who was discussing rural healthcare initiatives."

The specificity of his recollection surprised her. "You remember that?"

"I notice things," he said simply. Then, returning to the matter at hand: "We could say we reconnected there, kept in touch, and realized there was something more than friendship."

It was as good a story as any, Y/N supposed. "Alright. The conference it is."

As they pulled up to the house, Wonwoo reached into his pocket and withdrew a small velvet box. "One more thing."

Y/N's heart skipped uncomfortably. "Is that—"

"An engagement ring," he confirmed, opening the box to reveal a stunning platinum band with a modest but flawless diamond. "My mother will expect it."

When Y/N hesitated, he added gently, "It was my grandmother's. It seemed better than something impersonal from a jeweler."

The sentiment behind the gesture caught Y/N off guard. Using a family heirloom for their fake engagement felt wrong somehow, more deceptive than she'd anticipated.

"Wonwoo, I can't wear your grandmother's ring for this."

"Why not?" His voice was soft, his expression difficult to read in the dim car interior.

"Because it means something to you. It's... too real."

Wonwoo was quiet for a moment, then said, "Maybe that's why it's perfect. The more authentic elements we include, the more convincing our story will be."

His logic was sound, yet Y/N couldn't shake her discomfort as he took her left hand and slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly, as if it had been made for her. The weight of it felt foreign, intimidating.

"Ready?" Wonwoo asked, his hand lingering over hers for a moment before he pulled away.

Y/N took a deep breath. "As I'll ever be."

"So, Y/N," Mrs. Jeon said as they settled in the dining room, "Wonwoo tells us you reconnected at last year's innovation summit. How romantic."

Y/N glanced at Wonwoo, who gave her the smallest encouraging nod. "Yes, though I must admit I was quite focused on the presentations. Your son had to be quite persistent to get my attention."

Wonwoo's eyebrows rose slightly at her improvisation, but he recovered quickly. "Y/N was the only person there more interested in the actual innovations than the networking opportunities. It was... refreshing."

The warmth in his voice sounded so genuine that Y/N almost believed it herself.

"And now here we are," Mr. Jeon said, raising his wine glass. "To new beginnings and stronger alliances."

The business-like toast reminded Y/N of the true nature of their arrangement, grounding her. This wasn't about romance; it was about corporate synergy.

Dinner proceeded with surprisingly little interrogation. The elder Jeons seemed content to discuss business matters, occasionally drawing Wonwoo into the conversation but largely ignoring Y/N except for perfunctory questions about her family.

It wasn't until dessert was served that Mrs. Jeon turned her attention fully to Y/N. "Wonwoo mentioned you work as a nurse? How... unusual, given your background."

The slight pause conveyed volumes of judgment. Y/N felt Wonwoo tense beside her.

"I find direct patient care deeply fulfilling," Y/N replied evenly. "There's something irreplaceable about being on the front lines of healthcare."

"Surely there are more appropriate ways for someone of your position to contribute," Mrs. Jeon suggested, her smile not reaching her eyes. "Board work, perhaps, or fundraising."

Before Y/N could respond, Wonwoo cut in. "Y/N's practical experience makes her uniquely valuable. In fact, her insights have already helped shape some of our medical technology initiatives." He turned to her, his expression softening. "Her perspective is precisely why she's so important—to the company and to me."

The declaration, delivered with such conviction, momentarily stunned Y/N. It was a masterful performance, supportive yet plausible within their fabricated narrative.

"How sweet," Mrs. Jeon murmured, clearly unconvinced. "Still, once you're married, priorities naturally shift. Children, social obligations..."

"We're in no rush for children," Wonwoo stated firmly. "And Y/N's career is as important as mine. That's non-negotiable for both of us."

The tension around the table thickened. Mr. Jeon cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should discuss the engagement announcement. We're thinking next month's charity gala would be an appropriate venue."

Y/N barely registered the rest of the conversation as Wonwoo and his parents discussed event details. Her mind was caught on Wonwoo's defense of her career—delivered with such natural conviction that even she had momentarily forgotten it was part of their act.

Later, as they drove home in silence, Y/N finally spoke. "Thank you. For what you said about my nursing."

Wonwoo kept his eyes on the road, his profile illuminated by passing streetlights. "I meant it."

"You did?"

He nodded. "Just because our engagement is arranged doesn't mean I don't respect what you do. My grandfather was saved by a dedicated ER nurse once. I understand the value."

It was the most personal thing he'd shared with her, and Y/N wasn't quite sure how to respond. "Still, thank you. Your mother clearly had other ideas about a suitable daughter-in-law."

"My mother has many ideas," Wonwoo said with a slight smile. "Fortunately, this is our arrangement, not hers."

The "our" lingered between them, a reminder of their strange alliance. Y/N twisted the ring on her finger, still uncomfortable with its presence.

"I can get you a different ring if that one bothers you," Wonwoo said, noticing her gesture.

"No," Y/N said quickly, surprising herself. "It's beautiful. I just... I'm not used to it yet."

As they pulled into their driveway, Y/N realized this was true of more than just the ring. She wasn't used to any of this—the house, the pretense, the strange intimacy of sharing space with a man who was simultaneously a stranger and her supposed future husband.

"My mother will call you tomorrow," Wonwoo said as they entered the house. "She'll want to schedule lunch, probably with your mother too. To discuss wedding plans."

Y/N groaned. "Already? We just got engaged."

"In their minds, we've been together for months," he reminded her. "And big weddings take planning."

The reality of their situation hit Y/N anew. This wasn't just about living together and attending occasional family dinners. There would be an actual wedding—a ceremony, vows, everything.

"I need a drink," she muttered, heading for the kitchen.

To her surprise, Wonwoo followed, reaching into a cabinet she hadn't explored to produce a bottle of expensive scotch and two glasses. "I think we've earned this."

They settled at the kitchen island, the warm amber liquid burning pleasantly down Y/N's throat. "I'm starting to think three years isn't going to be as simple as I imagined."

Wonwoo swirled his drink thoughtfully. "Nothing worth doing ever is."

"Is that what this is? Worth doing?" Y/N challenged, emboldened by the scotch and the surreality of the evening.

"For me, yes," Wonwoo said simply, his eyes meeting hers with unexpected intensity. "Is it for you?"

The question hung between them, heavier than it should have been. Y/N broke eye contact first. "It's necessary. That's enough."

Wonwoo nodded slowly, accepting her answer without pressing further. They sat in companionable silence, sipping their drinks, until Y/N's curiosity got the better of her.

"Why did you agree so easily? To my plan?"

Wonwoo considered his glass for a long moment before answering. "Let's just say it aligns with my own interests."

"Which are?"

A smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Three years is a long time, Y/N. You'll figure it out."

There was something in his tone—a certainty, almost a challenge—that sent an odd shiver down Y/N's spine. Before she could pursue the matter, her phone chimed with a text from Seungcheol:

Emergency at the hospital. All hands on deck. Multi-car pileup on the highway.

Y/N was on her feet immediately. "I have to go. There's a major trauma situation."

Wonwoo stood as well, concern evident in his expression. "Do you want me to drive you?"

"No time. I'll call a taxi." She was already heading for the stairs to change into scrubs.

"I can be ready in two minutes," Wonwoo called after her.

Y/N paused, surprised by the offer. "You don't have to do that."

"I know I don't have to." Something in his voice made her turn back to look at him. "But I want to. Partners help each other, fake or not."

The sincerity in his expression gave Y/N pause. Maybe there was more to Jeon Wonwoo than she'd initially assumed. "Okay. Two minutes."

As promised, Wonwoo was ready and waiting when she rushed back downstairs in her scrubs. They drove to the hospital in focused silence, Wonwoo navigating Seoul's late-night traffic with calm efficiency.

When they reached the emergency entrance, Y/N unbuckled her seatbelt, then hesitated. "Thank you."

"Text me when you're done," Wonwoo said. "I'll come get you, no matter what time."

It was such a simple offer, yet somehow deeply touching. "You don't need to wait up. I can—"

"I'll come get you," he repeated firmly. "Be safe."

Y/N nodded, strangely affected by his concern. As she rushed toward the ER doors, she caught sight of Seungcheol waiting for her, his expression changing from relief to confusion as he noticed the Tesla pulling away.

"Was that Jeon Wonwoo?" he asked as she approached.

"He gave me a ride," Y/N explained, already focusing on the chaos of the emergency department ahead. "What's the situation?"

Seungcheol studied her for a moment longer before switching to professional mode. "Five critical, twelve moderate injuries. Two ORs running simultaneously. We're assigned to Trauma Bay 3."

Y/N pushed all thoughts of Wonwoo and their complicated arrangement from her mind as she entered the familiar controlled chaos of the emergency room. Here, at least, she knew exactly who she was and what she was meant to do.

Yet even as she worked alongside Seungcheol with their usual seamless coordination, a small part of her remained aware of the unfamiliar weight on her left hand—the grandmother's ring that she hadn't thought to remove before rushing out.

Seven hours later, exhausted but satisfied after a successful mass casualty response, Y/N stumbled out of the hospital into the pale light of early morning. She had texted Wonwoo that she was taking the subway home, not expecting him to actually come at 5 AM after a single text.

Yet there he was, leaning against his car in the parking lot, two cups of coffee in hand.

"I said I'd come get you," he said simply, offering her one of the cups. "No matter what time."

Y/N accepted the coffee, too tired to argue and secretly grateful not to face the subway. As she slid into the passenger seat, the events of the previous night—the dinner, the ring, their conversation—seemed dreamlike compared to the visceral reality of her hospital shift.

"How was it?" Wonwoo asked as they pulled away from the hospital.

"We saved everyone," Y/N said, sipping the coffee—prepared exactly as she liked it, she noted. "One patient was touch and go for a while, but pulled through."

Wonwoo glanced at her, genuine admiration in his expression. "What you do... it matters. Real, immediate impact. That's rare."

The simple acknowledgment of her work's value touched Y/N more than she expected. Her parents had never understood her choice to practice nursing rather than pursue administration or medicine. To have Wonwoo, essentially a stranger, recognize it so easily was unexpectedly validating.

They rode in comfortable silence, Y/N fighting to keep her eyes open as exhaustion caught up with her. By the time they reached the house, she was half-asleep, roused only by the gentle stop of the car.

"Come on," Wonwoo said softly. "You need rest."

He walked beside her to the door, close enough to catch her if she stumbled but not touching her. The consideration in the gesture wasn't lost on Y/N, even in her fatigue.

Inside, she headed straight for the stairs, pausing at the bottom to look back at him. "Thank you. For the ride. And the coffee."

Wonwoo nodded. "Get some sleep. I'll be quiet when I leave for work."

Y/N started up the stairs, then turned back again, a question that had been nagging at her finally surfacing. "Wonwoo? At the conference last year... why do you remember me focusing on that rural healthcare presentation? We barely spoke."

A shadow of something—vulnerability?—crossed his face before he composed it into his usual calm expression. "Like I said, I notice things. Especially things that matter."

Before she could process his answer, he disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Y/N with the distinct feeling that there was much more to Jeon Wonwoo than their arrangement had led her to believe.

In her room, she removed the engagement ring, studying it in the morning light. Beautiful, valuable, with history and meaning—yet ultimately a prop in their elaborate performance. As she placed it carefully on her nightstand, Y/N wondered if she was making a terrible mistake.

Three years was indeed a long time to pretend. What if the lines between pretense and reality began to blur? What if this arrangement cost her more than just her freedom?

What if Jeon Wonwoo had ulterior motives she couldn't begin to fathom?

These questions followed her into sleep, where she dreamed of warm eyes behind round glasses and a voice that said, "I notice things. Especially things that matter."

Especially you, the dream voice added, though the real Wonwoo had said no such thing.

Across the hall, in his own room, Wonwoo sat at his desk, adding another entry to his journal:

Day 8 of Our Three Year Plan.

She still doesn't remember me from the conference, but that's alright. I remember enough for both of us. The way she challenged the speaker about resource allocation. The passion in her voice when discussing patient dignity. The fact that she was the only person in a room full of executives who cared more about outcomes than optics.

She wore my grandmother's ring today. It looked right on her hand, just as I knew it would.

Three years is a long time, but I've waited longer than that already. I can be patient for what matters.

And she matters. She always has.

He closed the journal, unaware that across the hall, Y/N was dreaming of him, the first cracks already forming in the wall she'd built between their arrangement and her heart.

[multiheadcanons]

THIEVING ASS MERCS

scout: depending on who you like more, scout is the best crook on the team. and there is a difference. scout is talented in many ways of crime, particularly of the thieving ass hoe department. the same way he can put his ski mask on and load his gun and rob a place blind is the same way he can slip in and out of a crowd, digging hands in pockets is the same way he can be a vital and key member of a heist is the same way he’ll drug you at a bar, get you home safely and take every single thing you own in the process except the mattress and sheets he put you down on. scout truly can do it all in the world of crime. the only issue is scout’s mouthy. but his ultimate strategy of “don’t get caught” usually works out for him!

soldier: the worst. don’t ask this man to sneak, creep, snag, steal, or anything else that may require a volume level lower than four. he makes big noises and big movements. if you’re gonna put him in a heist, he is distraction. bait, even. but subtleties are indeed something soldier lacks in copious amounts. he takes things by force. he is more a robber who is armed and dangerous and attacks without warning than he is a slippery little thief. he’s good at hotwiring cars though. give him sixty seconds to cover his ass from police and he can rack up quite the tab and quite the list of charges.

pyro: the second worst. pyro is one of the most baffling criminals to exist. it’s like the joker but actually funny. nobody knows why pyro does the things they do or how they get away with it until you are relaxing in your room with an item you particularly covet and out of the corner of your eye you see a rubber glove reach for it. and you tell them no and it slinks away. then it tries again. and you say, sternly, “pyro, stop.” and it slinks away again. then it just strikes and snatches the item. and when you sit there, pondering whether or not attempting to engage pyro in what could potentially flare and become a volatile situation is worth the item, you realize exactly how pyro gets away with it. nobody wants to be burned to a crisp. and pyro has shown time and time again that there is genuinely no telling what measures they’re willing to take to get what they want.

demo: the third worst, but for a very specific reason. demo doesn’t steal things. demo asks to borrow them and then never gives it back. and that’s his biggest tell. if you have an item demo particularly wants, he will ask, beg, and urge you to allow him to use it. and demo, a man of general good faith and reliability, is generally allowed to borrow what he needs. because he does normally give it back! it’s when he’s insisting that he’s going to return it as soon as he’s done with it. once he gets to the third time of saying “i’m going to give this back”; if it’s already in his hands, you’re not getting that item back. so all of that to say, technically, yes he is a thief. but at least he’s nice enough to lie to you about it.

heavy: contrary to his staggering size, heavy is proficient in most tasks that require subtlety and sleight of hand. his biggest issue is heavy is an easy man to realize is gone. he’s better with a partner to distract while he slinks away. another man with a penchant of playing dumb, and a prominently trustworthy man on the team, most would never suspect him. and they don’t because they feel as though they would’ve… caught him, if he stole something, right? he’s just too large to miss. and heavy wouldn’t dirty his hands like that, right? these assumptions (along with pockets big enough to fit a human head into) allow heavy to fly under the radar when it comes to his thievery.

engineer: engineer has had his fair share of thievery, and he’s rung up quite the price tag in his youth. it’s not really something he has to do anymore, but the skill never left. a particularly talented pickpocket, it is always a good idea to pat yourself down when the texan “accidentally bumps you”. it’s an almost shameful practice he indulges in, and he’ll chuckle and return what he took with a charming smile. you’ll be so flattered you won’t notice your card is missing. so what, he’s privy to stealing a wallet here and there! he’s resolved himself to only stealing big ticket items when he’s in desperate need. he is almost never in desperate need anymore, so he gets an itch to snag a couple small things here and there. he wouldn’t call himself a kleptomaniac or anything, it’s just been one of his harder habits to break.

medic: medic is not a good thief because he’s technically not a thief. like demoman, our belemoman, the doctor will “ask to borrow” an item he’s particularly coveting. what sets them apart is while demo at least asks, the doctor will tell you what is going to happen. he’s going to try this on. he’s going to take this. he needs that item for a moment, you may get it back. note how much heavy lifting the word “may” is doing in that sentence. and he’s a blur with it. he’s in and out of the room in seconds, to the point you barely notice what’s occurring until he’s already gone with the item he wanted. then you have to go track him down. and if he’s really banking on keeping that item, he’s going to play dumb, but his stare is icy. he’s daring you to push the topic. and the doctor, a man of general bad faith and mediocre social reliability, is hard to take at his word. but most aren’t willing to push him more than he’s willing to push back.

sniper: a solid contender for third best, you won’t notice the thing is missing until you go to hunt for it. sniper is very proficient at picking targets, at formulating plans, and then executing them. he’s got an eye for victims and good quality items. and he’s quite successful in talking people out of their things. he can only do this if he’s not thinking about it. the moment he starts trying to actually use his brain most people see through what he’s doing. snipes is quite a personable guy. most people get along with the australian unless you’re on the wrong end of the rifle. he’s a trustworthy guy! so if he slips into your apartment while you’re gone because you happened to give him a key to house sit about five years back and you meet him at the wrong stage of his life… you might come back to some missing valuables and a broken window. and he will be right there to help you find the culprit! as soon as he’s done at the pawn shop. snipes doesn’t do this much anymore. but if he’s in tight straits he’s gonna do what he has to. sorry about it.

spy: depending on who you like more, spy is unarguably the best criminal on the team. and there is a difference. spy is a phenomenal criminal. but he’s more white collar crimes than he is truly a dirty handed crook. spy can embezzle with the best of them. spy hasn’t filed an honest day’s worth of taxes in his life. spy is collecting a minimum of five checks from five different countries and storing them in offshore accounts in different countries. the man is slick, and cold with it. and he has no mercy for the people who fall for it. get smarter. be better. and spy has never gone down for a single crime he’s ever committed. it’s almost sickening. people want to see him fry and they never will. he laughs about it to himself when he thinks he can be nasty without consequence.

[incorrect-green-lantern-quotes]

- You started out as a bet/challenge to see if I could successfully wrangle the infamous Problem Child but oh whoops I got attached!

Simon & Keli

- You are my kind, bright-eyed protegé who would never do so much as rip a tag off a mattress. anyway I am going to acquaint you with Criminal Activity

Sinestro & Soranik

- I showed you genuine kindness and it was maybe the first time you’d ever experienced it and accidentally ended up becoming more of a parent to you than your “real” blood family ever was. Uh. Do you want to play catch in the park or

Earth's Lanterns & Keli / Hal & Kyle

- I will gladly take any punishment meant for you. I would go to the ends of the earth to protect you, even if it meant I had to die in the process. I would do it a thousand times over, and I wouldn’t regret any of it.

Hal & Kyle (goes both ways)

- I taught you how to fight, and now through some circumstance or another, I’m forced to engage you in life-or-death combat without holding back.

Kilowog & Hal

- I put you through training from hell to make you the person you are today, for “your own good”, and now you’ve realized that you can hit back. And you can hit hard.

Guy & Jessica

- I have made you into something greater than yourself - but you are changing from how I have designed you, and this is something I cannot allow.

Sinestro & Hal

- I taught you everything you know, and it was the greatest mistake I’ve ever made.

Abin & Sinestro

- I will make you just like me - by force, if necessary.

Sinestro & Hal again

- Bonus addition: I should have been your mentor but the circumstances that made you carry my legacy also prevented me from being there when you needed guidance most.

Hal & Kyle once more, but also Kim & Tai

romance is lame and overrated i love mentor/mentee relationships in fiction and especially when theyre sort of fucked up

[utilitycaster]

It's interesting to think about character growth amongst the Bell's Hells because some of them did have some but it was subtle or aborted or avoided. I think about Sam and FCG and how Sam was trying really hard to engage with FCG's search for meaning and pursuit of a relationship with the Changebringer but it kept getting rejected by everyone else? It seemed like even Matt pushed those moments away, and based on that pattern idk if going to Aeor would have helped FCG's arc either.

So I don't feel like Matt didn't serve those moments, actually - FCG had maybe the most interesting and complete arc! He actually was rewarded for pursuing the Changebringer pretty consistently, and his actions had consequences. Their coin was upgraded, they had visions, and they were able to have some meaningful moments in the temples, so I'm not sure why you feel Matt pushed this away.

I do feel other characters did, though, and honestly I think that's sort of like...Bells Hells did not bring out the best in each other. Their pathological avoidance of conflict combined with Matt's need to get to a very specific plot meant that either things sort of got smoothed over and fixed by outside forces (Essek solving Laudna's problems for her) or just stayed there forever. I don't think the cast wished each other ill! But I think that they were playing characters who were kind of self-absorbed! Like, it's valid to feel jealous if you genuinely tried to make a connection with a god and didn't receive one and your buddy FCG did; jealousy is a very normal emotion. But to outwardly express this to them and be short with them or dismissive towards their exploration is, in fact, an asshole move - it's one thing to wish you had what your friends have, but it's another to be unkind to them because of it, and honestly basically everyone but Chetney and Orym had their dickhead moments towards FCG...but they also never took it far enough to actually have a meaningful fight about it. It was kind of a self-perpetuating stagnation, in that no one would actually challenge the dynamics and force the issue, and as someone who thinks being passive-aggressive and conflict avoidant is infinitely more toxic than being like, regular aggressive, it really showed with how FCG was like, one of the only people doing something interesting and the rest of the party was just kind of snidely bitter about it.

I would like to think that FCG going to Aeor would have opened up new (and different) avenues; but given that Ashton's explorations were also not really rewarded I'm not sure. I think that came right at the point where Matt was really burning out. But I think that's a totally separate issue; the Changebringer stuff was pretty solid and the party being passive aggressive and nonconfrontational was literally a problem from the jump.

[watermelonlicker]

"babygate killed this fandom as it was designed to do."

This sentence made me cry now. I haven't thought of that this way. I always thought babygate was to push Louis (and Harry) further back into the closet, but I never thought by doing this, the fandom will loose a lot of larries. And not because they don't believe in them being a couple, but because they got fed up with this shit.

I came to the fandom only in 2022, so I missed all of this. But a close friend of mine was a huge 1D fan, and she left the fandom totally. Recently we discussed some stories about the boys, and she told me literally all of his fan friends thought Harry and Louis were a couple, it was never a question.

She also said, she might enjoy their solo music, but she's so disappointed in how the boys were or still are handled that she won't listen to anything from them anymore (she thinks even their solo work royalties are tied to XF and/or SC, and she just doesn't want to support that).

She's still friends with some people from that fan group, and some of them follow the other boys' solo career, but not H and L anymore. And not because they don't like them, but because they think them being more and more successful ties them down even more.

And now reading your last sentence of that post it dawned on me, yep, this what exactly was the goal of babygate to erase the activity of these fans. They're still here, but they just won't put up with this shit anymore, they won't engage anymore. And that's also one of the deepest cut on Louis' career.

i agree with all of this like babygate happened for a multitude of reasons but i definitely think weakening the fandom/causing division played a factor. i said that about a zarry ask i answered not too long ago where some of the zarries even felt like planted accounts. the shift in 2015 was genuinely so crazy and blindsiding and my gf told me it only got worse in 2016 onwards.

and ive said many times now about why i returned here instead of twitter and it was bcos i saw the harries so freely making fun of jay/fizzy’s deaths without anyone calling them out but larries and they’re considered the better fans than us bcos they what? they don’t acknowledge the closet of two queer people? ok.

and i definitely agree about their money still being tied to sc in some form. you have the x factor contracts to think about + syco entertainment is a branch of sony so they technically never left sony. columbia (who harry is currently signed to) is also a part of sony and the azoffs have monopolized everything. like i’ve said before it’s one giant web you can’t untangle yourself from unless you want to like… have no career. people who have no understanding of anything think harry is “free” bcos his closet is glass but he was still saying on hslot that he can’t wait to be more open which is why a lot of people think hslot changed his perspective on his career/image going forward but at the end of the day there’s just so many terrible factors so it’s anyone’s guess. i try to be optimistic but i’m also realistic.

anon is quoting this

also what i said about zarries pls my teen nemesis

[mortal-ethos]

I've found that other queer people genuinely don't understand that masc, trans masc people, and trans men struggle with this excessively. Once hegemonic cis people find out you're trans, they rarely treat you the same. You are instantly viewed as a guy with a vagina/a hysterical woman. You are seen only as your genitalia or as mentally ill.

I can't enter many lesbian spaces anymore because they don't see me as a lesbian and they don't care to. Because I can "pass" as a man in my everyday life from HRT, though any possible benefits I get up from that are devalued by how afraid I am everyday. By knowing that the minute someone learns I'm trans, I'm worth less than I was before.

I can't enter gay male spaces (well I'm not a gay man but I know many other gay trans men and trans mascs have struggled with this) because I'm a fucking fetish to many of them and they don't see me as an equal because so many gay men are fucking sexist for some fucking reason.

I can't enter many trans spaces because they only talk about trans women and don't want to hold space for trans mascs, or are dismissive of our issues, or sometimes literally forget we exist.

I've seen so many trans masc people get misgendered constantly in online trans spaces because EVERYONE FORGETS THAT NOT ALL TRANS PEOPLE ARE WOMEN.

I'm not safe in male spaces because I have to perform masculinity that fucking isn't who I am in order to be safe. I have to hide who I am and sometimes lie about who I am in order to keep myself safe.

I have to vet any place I go to extensively online beforehand if I know I will have to be shirtless or possibly using a public locker room or restroom. And many times I just decide not to risk it and I don't go. This includes the gym, public pools, amusement parks, beaches, etc.

Many trans masc people need to wear packers, yes often for dysphoria, but also for safety and there's a reason why many packers say they can pass the "squeeze test." Because transphobes have come up to trans masc people and sexually assaulted them so many times trying to "prove" that they're trans.

When I got my degree, in my final WGS class, I had to out myself as trans because all the other women in the class actively would not engage in discussion with me anytime I tried. Only after I came out in fucking class did they start to respond to me, because I was close enough to a woman to be allowed an opinion. Note, I am nonbinary but transitioned physically and socially and I present male because of my masculine gender expression. I am not bothered and do at times identify with being a woman, my problem is I was alienated for my gender expression and had to out myself in order to not be.

Fuck I CANT EVEN GO TO PLACES FOR SEXUAL ASSAULT SURVIVORS BECAUSE OF THIS.

In order for us to be seen and heard within these communities that we were previously extremely connected to and still feel that connection even as others sever it, we need to often possibly put ourselves in an unsafe position (as other people feel way too fucking comfortable with telling everyone they know that you're trans now) and explain ourselves fully (through not only personal history but also your fucking medical history) while others don't in order to be seen and heard - in order to connect with the communities that we never fucking left. It's the same thing like when parents say their "daughter/son died." I've always fucking been here, and I'm here now, just as the person I've ALWAYS BEEN. The person you accepted at the start but just didn't fucking see. And now you still refuse to see us.

Transmasc transition often involves so much loss of community. Especially if you already were in feminist or queer spaces before your transition. It's not true that we gain relevant social status within patriarchial structures by transitioning (if patriarchy supported the choices of those who they see as women to be anything other than a wife and a mother/to transgress gender-norms we wouldn't have to have most of these conversations) but we do noticeably lose social status within our own community. And along with that access to safe-spaces and ressources that we need for physical and emotional safety and well-being.

[clownshifting]

Reclaiming Myself

I think myself reasonable. I believe me to be a beast with understanding.

Thought into word, word into action - that is who I am. I say I will and I do. I say I will, then I do. Thought into word, word into action.

Now, let me tell you this. When do you believe you will be crushed enough to step down? Not just from an argument, but from your own community - from a place you thought would be easy to fit into. How many times have you thought about leaving?

I do not have to think, thought into word, word into action. I am leaving the alterhuman, holothere, transspecies, or whatever community you wish to place me into. No, I do not tuck tail like I am a sore loser, no, no, no... I am hissing and I am screeching and I am clawing and I am ripping them out of my way because I know what I want and I am going to get it and no one is standing in my way. For they will not have the vigor to match the animal I am. The vengeance for which I raze their lives to the ground with, the magick on my hip stronger and embedded into my bloodline from generation to generation - each stacking hex and blessing upon those less fortunate to not wield magick.

I am not powerful nor am I a deity. I hoped I was in the beginning, that would explain my magick. I hoped I was sunkissed by godhood, explaining why I felt so alone. No - no - I was just in my head about how it would all go down, the delayed gratification of pondering and waiting in the weeds to strike. I have nothing against my allies or my benefitting partners, but I am turning my flank to their faces and I am hissing and I am reclaiming my territory as mine and you will not label me in a way that contrasts who I am by using your definition - a definition built upon metaphorical existences - against my pelt. No, how dare you.

I only used alterhuman as a way to include everyone, while that very term's people sought to exclude me. I helped found holothere alongside many others who wanted a hand in the creation. I called myself transspecies out of spite for those who didn't see my gender transition as entirely "realistic" enough. I was in shifter communities because I know deep down that I am a shapeshifter. But I cannot be there. I will not betray myself with labels that are being twisted to defy the label itself, to include but never differentiate. I cannot hold a label that serves no different than the others. They might as well be obsolete, blank slates to apply experiences onto.

But even then, I claim so and am seen as if I am reclaiming or taking labels from others. I bare my fangs and hiss. Then leave. I am not a brooding chimera for no reason, I am bulky and I am big and I am a challenge who keeps to himself. I am reasonable, yes, and I jest and bellow laughs, yes, but I am not someone who is to be talked or walked upon.

I'll be nice once, then, I won't.

I'll tally your mistreatments and express them to you once, and if you turn tail and never see my eye, it's because you won't have the chance to. I will always be nice once, then, I won't.

I no longer wish to engage in spces that treat every misunderstanding as an act of war. Where no one asks why they must fight but instead believe the word of their own as truth and begin to declaw and tear without diplomacy. You claim to be so better, with little failings unlike the humans, but make mistakes and create strife at the littlest problem. Reactionary beasts. Stubborn beasts. Humanity must have gotten you too. Or will you recognize that you are one in a single cycle, together, as animals, and not as enemies.

Past my rather blunt demeanor, I am a being of kind nature. I have put my money where my mouth is and I have paid family and friend and have supported goals and transitions. I have done much, I am not a bum online who sulks because some rat fuck had the wrong intrpretation of my pelt. I do not care. What I care about is not expressing genuine want for conversation and spearing your neighbor for asking or proposing their feelings in an earnest way on a small blog. I am not betrayed or entitled to such treatment, I had simply thought better of a beast who's been here longer than I have. I had thought you smarter.

So I am leaving these communities and I am building my own; deviae.

I recognize some have already seen and heard of the term and know it's goal; awareness to deviatypal traits, transition, and physical beasthood. Most importantly, to replace sour language (altersex, salmacian, etc.)

I am deviae, I have deviatypal traits, I am a deviæ being. No longer will I obey by the rules of labeling myself by gender, sex identity, or species - but rather by my act against those and in spite of the conditinal human body, described only as such to benefit society by giving one personhood when they comply. No, I am a beast and I will act as one. Instinct is the only thing that makes me move and I will not hinder myself in the alterhuman community when those beside me don't even want me there.

I have fought for years to be included in alterhuman spaces and discussions, this year has taught me that none of you have changed, ever. I will be building my own spaces as a deviae beast, my own terms, my own opinions and feelings about my own plans and life. I recognize how my words and posts affect my mutuals and friends, yet I cannot sacrifice my own happiness in deviatypal expression in order to be nice to those who never liked what I am - physically transitioning, physically a beast, physically else. I cannot be myself while faithful to the alterhuman community, especially now where anything is an excuse to behead or strike arguments as the "less immature" one. I have grown past such fighting, I wish to become a better beast. And I will.

Deviae Links:

@deviae-culture-is

@deviae-support

[stainedglassvariations]

Grey's Rest: Chapter One

He’s watching you again.

The brioche you’re working loses its stickiness beneath his unwavering gaze; the dough turning smooth then stretching so thin until you can see the sunlight filtering through it. He is there even after its final proof, and as it comes out of the oven. It isn’t until the loaf is cool enough to cut does he move.

Beneath your lashes, you do some watching of your own as he lingers by the door like he always does. You can admit to some curiosity, wondering if it is you that causes his hesitation or something else. It is that same curiosity that stays your hand, keeps you from confronting him. Even now, you are still a huntress, and you do not frighten away your prey.

So, you let him leave as he has done for the past three months, and return to your breads and pastries. Soon, you will have your answers. 

Of that, you are sure.

He proves you right three weeks later. For the first time since you first saw him slip into your cafe, he comes to the counter. 

Your stranger is handsome in a tired, broken way that fills you with far too much empathy. His eyes are dark, the bags beneath them even darker, and his hair is the color of tarnished gold. The haggardness on his face brings to mind another man, but you push down the swell of grief before it can even begin to rise. 

“Good afternoon,” your smile is placid, your movements slow as you bring pen to paper, “how may I serve you today?”

The way he looks at you, for just a moment, is frantic, frenzied, and then he smoothes it away as a mason would mortar. Your curiosity spikes. 

“Just a black coffee, thank you. Whatever blend you recommend is fine.”

There is a familiar twinge in your breast as you note his order, the same frustration you once felt whenever there was a flash of a flask, and it is your turn to temper down your emotions.

“A bit late,” you say as you reach for the finest beans you keep in stock. Hawaiian in origin, and should be otherwise far too expensive for a shop of your standing. “Are you sure I can’t interest you in any of my teas? I grow the plants myself.”

You never show him your back.

“Night shift,” he replies, stilted as if not expecting you to engage him in conversation. “Besides, I have no idea when it comes to that stuff. Always just thought of it as hot leaf juice if I’m being honest.”

Your smile softens into something a little more genuine as you pour the coffee beans into the grinder. 

“Funny, I had a friend tell me the same thing once. Though, he was far less diplomatic about it.”

Again, you see something dark in those eyes of his before it disappears behind a façade. By the time you have fine grounds, you would’ve forgotten had you been anyone else. His gaze falls to the crank in your hand.

“Do you grind all this coffee by hand?” He asks; face deceptively innocent. You do have applaud his ability to lie - he's almost as good as you.

“Not in the mornings,” you reach for the pour over, “it’s too busy for that. Are you in a rush?”

“No, not really.” This time, it’s his turn to smile. A soft, delicate thing that could only be described as heartbreaking. “And even if I was, I would still say I wasn’t.”

It’s a familiar dance this worn and weathered man is trying to lure you in. It is the only dance that has ever made you stumble, and you are far too old to be making mistakes like this again. 

“Careful,” you flick on the electric kettle, “there’s etiquette when it comes to flirting with the barista.”

He leans forward then, elbows planting themselves firmly on your walnut countertop, and he smells of toasted sugar and pine. 

“Is that what we’re doing? Flirting?”

“Can we call it flirting when I don’t even know your name?” You watch as the temperature on your kettle starts to rise in steady, ten degree increments. “You seem to have me at a disadvantage here, Stranger.”

A moment of silence, save for the beginnings of the boiling water, then:

“Ray. My name is Ray.”

You look up at him.

“Welcome to Grey’s Rest, Ray. Please, make yourself at home.”

It is easily the best cup of coffee Ray’s ever had.

Smooth, mellow, with the slightest hint of something fruity. The number written on the inside of the sleeve only adds to the experience. It’s almost enough to make him forget about the strange language racing through his Star’s mind, and the eerie way you carry yourself. Not a single wasted movement or honest emotion. 

It is a novel experience, being so blind to another human being. He would be intrigued if it were anybody else. Instead, there is a mounting frustration building inside him. Three months, and he still feels as if he knows nothing about you. Three months of waiting, watching, wanting, yet you’re still so far away.

Well, maybe not that far.

He smiles into his coffee, and takes out his phone. Maybe he can’t read your thoughts or your face, but that could change with time. He’s already waited three years, what’s another nine months now that he has you.

“Grey’s Rest?”

Blaze’s hand, hot and heavy on his shoulder, drags him from his pleasant daydreams and back into his hellish reality.

“What of it?” He snaps, shaking him off. 

“Nothing, but word on the street is that the owner is a real fox. I’ve been meaning to drop by myself.” The grin on Blaze’s face makes his skin crawl, but he holds his tongue. Give him an inch, and he would take the entire tape measure.

“The coffee’s good, that’s all I can say.” He chugs the rest and throws the cup into the trash. “Now suit up. I want to get this over with as fast as possible.”

Hours later, when he trudges back into the agency smelling of blood and smoke, there’s a single name in the sea of messages he immediately hones in on.

My Star:

‘If you’re not opposed to a little manual labor, I take Sundays to tend to my garden and prepare the cafe for the week.’

The grin on his face is so wide, it makes his cheeks hurt. From the door, Blaze watches him with a cruel, curious smirk.

[izamationbroker]

hello i love your analyses so much arghh! on one of em you mentioned mikado have a 'baby aspd' and izaya trying to take a mentor role, did you ever elaborate on that? im trying to search on your blog.. and like. read everything :0

Thank you so much, I'm sorry I left this to steam in my inbox for almost a year lmao.

This ask is referring to a post I made while rewatching Shou, with some thoughts on how Izaya operates as a more genuine mentor for Mikado than one might expect. I mentioned offhandedly in the tags that I headcanon Mikado having "baby ASPD" and then... never actually elaborated lmao!

When I say "baby ASPD," I'm cheekily referring to Conduct Disorder, which is kind of casually considered ASPD for minors. This is because according to the DSM, ASPD cannot be diagnosed in people under the age of 18, and CD is also listed as a prerequisite in the ASPD criteria.

However! Oswald, Wa-kun, Nakura, Chrome, (who all have ASPD) and I (who does not but takes their experiences into consideration) do not much care for the DSM's weirdly arbitrary division between minor and adult in the realm of ASPD diagnosis (and ONLY ASPD diagnosis) and so we cheekily refer to it as "baby ASPD" instead.

Mikado has a lot of the same issues as Izaya which line up with the headcanon of ASPD, particularly including a pervasive chronic boredom and detachment from other people which drives him to engage in reckless behavior to entertain himself. Does Mikado actually have ASPD/CD? Debatable. I don't really wanna do through all of the criteria today like I did in my Izaya (and Shinra) breakdown of yore. Maybe if someone is interested I will one day.

To that effect, though, I do believe that whether or not Mikado has ASPD/CD, there is still a little nugget of that something in him that has the potential to put him on the fast track to becoming just like Izaya if left unchecked.

And Izaya knows it.

Say what you will about Aoba wanting to "usurp" Izaya, Mikado is the true successor in the story, and Izaya calls it. He's there keeping tabs on him in the chat room, guiding him, and yes that may well at first have been because he wanted to involve Mikado in his plans regarding Celty's head, I think over the course of the story Izaya starts to realize with growing horror that Mikado is in exactly the same situation he was as a kid—chronically bored and getting mixed up in things he shouldn't just to alleviate that boredom.

In fact, this boredom and disconnect from people is the entire crux of Mikado's arc, a young boy struggling with some dire need to experience something extraordinary, because all he's ever known is the mundane and he's come to detest it. In the slant of ASPD, it only really seems to get more evident to me as the series goes on, as he starts to show more signs in the disregard of the safety of himself and others and his justifications in doing so.

He claims it is to make the city right again for himself and his friends, but to what extent is that true? To what extent is taking Aoba's deal of (mutual) manipulation and ultimately getting mixed up with the Awakusu-kai really about protecting his friends and to what extent is it because he's fallen into a spiral of adrenaline junkie-ism from which he can't fathom a way to escape?

This is what Izaya means in the aftermath of the very first arc, when he tells Mikado that after a week, the extraordinary life he found himself in will become mundane. In the realm of ASPD and particularly the chronic boredom that comes with it, novelty is like a drug, and you will build up a resistance to it. In order to escape, you have to keep chasing greater and greater novelties.

"Constantly evolve," and Izaya says, whether you aim high or low to achieve it.

And boy, does Mikado tailspin lower and lower while trying desperately to convince himself he's taken the high road.

In that sense, I believe Izaya recognized Mikado's having that unknowable something in him that Izaya himself has, that separates himself from others and makes it so difficult to form fulfilling connections. It's not so much that Mikado can't be close to people—he over course has Kida and Sonohara—but in the realm of ASPD, there's always something missing. A scratch that needs to be itched.

Izaya sees that and from that very first bit of advice about evolving to escape the mundane, puts himself in the position of a mentor for Mikado's very specific struggle, whether he realizes it or not. In that original post, with the phone call, I do think by that moment in Shou Izaya has come to realize that he's probably one of the only people who really gets the problem Mikado is dealing with internally, and as such as the adult it's become his responsibility to help him.

There's a bit of camaraderie there in that he sees himself in Mikado, and maybe he wants to save him from the fate he himself has found himself in. No friends to speak of—Shinra hardly counts—only enemies, and a chronic disconnect from humanity which he masks with a superficial love and intrigue.

Whether or not he's actually successful? Well... I think the series speaks for itself on that.

[galacticwiseguy]

i fully agree that this is a good system at what it does! but i think there are downsides to what it does that aren't covered here. I know you probably know everything I'm about to say, O.P., but I want to talk about it anyway, please forgive me for doing so on your post.

You know how the game works in a set of fundamental structures, and then you work out from that centre of generalities to your specifics. You don’t need to know how Barbarians work if you’re not playing one, but the fact that Barbarians work like how Wardens work like how Fighters work means that when you do pick up any of the Barbarian pieces, they are pretty familiar.

I agree there are many players to which this is an asset. This was one of the biggest downsides to 4e to me. I read through and learned one class, with all of its toys and dice tricks and mechanics; what wonderful fun, learning the specific intricacies of how Wizard works this edition. and then I went and read Fighter and...it was the same??? The ability names changed, the stat dependencies changed, maybe the damage dice got slightly bigger and AoE/debuff effects got slightly less common, but the structure was the same, daily encounter at-will, it was the same structure with different keywords in the slots.

It's like finishing a level in a video game, and finding out that the next level is...the same level again, with a palette-swap. I wanted eleven classes to be eleven different little minigames with different rules because the variety and complexity and learning how each toy worked was the fun of it.

Clearly this is not what everyone wants from their DnD; I've never understood the people who just don't want to read the rules at all, but those people are many and they certainly don't want to have to read new, different rules to play a new class. But many of us do and did! If all the classes feel the same to play then it's much easier and faster to understand the game, which is bad, if "understanding the game" is part of what you enjoy spending time and effort on.

And also, of course, a DnD where every class plays different accommodates different levels of mechanical engagement from the players. Yes, people did absolutely complain that Fighter builds were too cool and interesting, in that they were too complex and intricate. There will always be players who don't want to spend time on system mastery and buildcrafting, who genuinely want fewer combat options because intricate tactical decisionmaking is not interesting to them. In 3e, Fighter was there for them, offering them a simple reliable playstyle with pretty obvious easy-pick feat and feature choices that would mostly just give then another +1 here or there, and basically one correct action in combat, "attack." while the folks who loved getting fiddly with it could be playing wizards.

Those people simply shouldn't play fourth ed, because it is not the game for them, it was a game primarily (almost exclusively) concerned with intricate tactical decisionmaking from every player; fair enough; not a knock on 4e, it has different design goals. But also, those players weren't wrong when they looked at 4e and said "DnD used to accommodate me, and now it does not, I liked DnD but now they've made something that is not for me, and i'm sad about it."

Primaries, Secondaries, Structure, and 4e DnD

Talking about Fourth Edition Dungeons & Dragons is challenging at times because I feel like I’m always coming at things from a preemptive crouch. My first draft of this started out describing a problem that people criticized, but realistically speaking, that was 10 years ago and it doesn’t really matter what people think about it now, especially because fundamentally it isn’t an incorrect thing to have noticed.

What I’m going to talk about here is structural form and it’s a thing that 4e has throughout. Honestly, you could make a reasonable model of the development of Dungeons & Dragons throughou

One of the areas where I would say that fourth edition really excels as a tabletop RPG is that its structure is rock solid. It’s not a game with tons of tables in it because most things that needed tables were instead handled by formulas and sometimes those formulas were very simple. This does make it sort of the anti-Rolemaster where, broadly speaking, you are managing a very small amount of information and the game doesn’t do a lot to generate things for you. This structure does mean that there are reliable ways that players can approach information with expectations and assumptions about how the game does work.

To be clear, I like this. It is not necessarily the best way for any game to be, but 4e is an enormous game that relies on its system being modular, familiar, and exclusionary. You know how the game works in a set of fundamental structures, and then you work out from that centre of generalities to your specifics. You don’t need to know how Barbarians work if you’re not playing one, but the fact that Barbarians work like how Wardens work like how Fighters work means that when you do pick up any of the Barbarian pieces, they are pretty familiar. This approach is a form of structuralism, and it’s really useful for making a big complicated thing handleable. Rather than having four or five versions of the same thing (like Spellcasting in 3rd edition), you can have a uniform structure that everyone recognises.

One example of a structural design in 4E is the way the game handles Primary and Secondary Stat needs for each class.

Real quick for anyone not familiar, in most of 4E’s class design, characters were making attack rolls against defenses. There weren’t any saving throws against magical spells being flung around, and for the most part enemies didn’t have a lot of opportunities to avoid things beyond specialized layered defenses like ending stuns or dazes early. You had your Armour Class, your Fortitude Defense, your Reflex Defense, and your Will Defense. This design puts agency on the actor rather than defense posture on the target, and since players are the ones enacting the things the players want, that means the die rolls that matter are the ones they make.

Now, you may not like this, especially if you like fudging die rolls like some kind of a coward I guess, but the point is for now, the fundamental structure of classes in 4E was you were powers were making attack rolls against defenses. Because of that, everyone needed to be good at making attack rolls. This was a break from third edition where it was pretty much expected that attack rolls were only for a very small set of things that were considered attacks (and which were, largely, not very good). If you were a wizard, you could build the whole character as if you never had to make an attack roll. You could, there were spells that did it, but you didn’t have to. There was no inherent assumption wizards would be good at attacking. You would be very likely expecting to meet characters that didn’t have a good attack roll.

A complaint about this design is that because everyone is making attacks, characters all feel the same. This is a reasonable complaint that if you ignore all the things that aren’t making attacks, everyone is only ever making attacks. It is true that this made 4E a game where everyone wanted to be good at connecting and therefore, everyone wanted stats that made you best at hitting. That meant that Wizards all wanted Intelligence, the stat that made you better at hitting with Wizard powers, and Fighters and Barbarians all wanted a good Strength stat because that’s how Fighters and Barbarians hit things more often.

This was, again, a complaint: The system made it so that wizards wanted high Intelligence, and Fighters and Barbarians wanted high Strength. It’s true that if you don’t like this result that this is a reasonable criticism, that this is a thing the game encourages. It’s not a criticism I much care about, mind you.

“Doesn’t this mean every member of a class will have similar stats, and naturally gravitate towards the same best powers?” you might wonder, and no! No, they solved this problem through Secondary stats. Powers came in two flavours; one, powers that only cared about your primary stat, and they were usually pretty decent, solid 8/10 kind of things. But then there were powers that could have some benefit based on your other choices, like a Pact or a Boon or a Style, and those things looked at a stat of yours that was very deliberately not the stat used to make the attack roll. These were commonly referred to as your ‘rider’ abilities, and therefore, that stat effect was the rider on the main ability.

For example, Dishearten was an attack that used Intelligence to hit, dealt damage based on Intelligence, but the penalty it could impose on an enemy’s to-hit was based on your Charisma. To that end, if you did want this power, you might want a good Charisma as well, or, if you already wanted a character with a high Charisma, you might pick this kind of power to reward that build.

There’s another structure that lives parallel here. It’s not as common, but it’s still there; there were some classes that had one secondary stat for their powers, but had two different primary stats for their powers. That meant that the class might approach hitting with stats like Wisdom or Strength, but the followup to that hitting was always going to be (for example) Charisma. This meant that there was a common thread across all members of that class, but it was never their best thing; all Clerics had some people skills, but they might be a holy smiting, mace-swinging Cleric who had people skills, or a laser beam blasting Cleric who had people skills.

4E clerics were so cool.

The other classes that did this in the Player’s Handbook were the Warlock (Charisma and Constitution) and the Paladin (Charisma and Strength). The Warlock was a bit of an orphan child at the best of times, but the Paladin was so well serviced and ate so well that it wound up with multiple fully-fledged ‘standard package’ builds you could pursue with plenty of feat support under the names of Straladin (Strength Paladin), Chaladin (Charisma Paladin) or Baladin (Balanced Paladin). The Ranger also had the opportunity to be a Strength-based or Dexterity-based attacker, though the powers were mostly all the same powers, with ‘Strength or Dexterity vs AC’ kind of attack rolls.

Sometimes for some classes that weren’t super well developed, this meant that you effectively had one primary stat and two secondary stats. There aren’t any I can find that only have one secondary stat, even the most malnourished classes I found like the Vampire have two, and some classes like the Fighter and the Warden seem to have almost every possible stat supported as a secondary stat. Your best stat was probably going to be the one that you used to hit with and your second best stat was going to be the one that gave you secondary effects you liked, which meant that most of the characters in a particular form would have similar stats and probably express a similar-ish character. If you were a wizard who liked moving things around, you probably were very intelligent and pretty wise because those were the two stats you wanted the most.

Now this does create variety within a class, but you can probably just complain it kicks the can down the road. After all, if you’re playing a Bard, are you the Charisma-Intelligence Bard, the Charisma-Wisdom Bard, or the best Bard? It’s still narrowing options.

Thing is, to me, complaining about this seems dumb when I point out the Fighter. Because everyone seems to think it’s okay that all fighters are strong and hit things hard, because that’s what being a Fighter is. Suddenly that is okay when we’re talking about limiting the options of the poor Fighter, who had people back in 4e complaining their builds were too good, too interesting, and they did too much cool stuff, when the players would much rather than two combat options, have one.

Oh and fourh the May be with you or whatever.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!