#arena tutor

[theinkedknight]

I started using Arena Tutor by Draft Sim five days ago. This is for "Completion", my BG death touch poison explorer deck. Bo1 explorer ranked, 57% win rate, 61% on the play and a coin flip on the draw. New ranked season starts in 9 days and then I can see how we go from there. I'm not the most competitive player but I like seeing stats.

[akechi-stole-my-heart]

so teddie still lives with yosuke? Good. maybe that means he has a chance of getting an actual fucking education

[azsazz]

Over Ice (Part 2)

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: She’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!!

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 3122

(Part 1)

_________________________________________

“When you said you got me a t-shirt,” you sigh, once again adjusting the hem of the jersey Mor provided you. Notshirt; jersey. The bottom of the Velaris Bats uniform has been trimmed—startlingly low. Or is it cut too high; you wonder with a swallowed curse. The damned thing nearly shows off your entire midriff. “I thought you meant, like, a normal fucking shirt and not whatever this is.”

Mor scoffs, shoveling a handful of popcorn into her mouth as she weaves her way through the throng of people towards your seats. Her long strides in her black heels hard to keep up with. “That is a Mor Original, and I only made it cuter,” she huffs indigently, like your discomfort is the sole inspiration behind her “designs.”

This isn’t the first time you’ve allowed Mor to pick out your outfit, but it’s definitely going to be your last, you try to remind yourself. The handful of times you’ve thought this exact thing before is laughable, and you’ve never once remembered. She’ll continue to cut the hems of shirts and alter skirts into even shorter skirts until the end of time, probably.

She’s been the crafty type since you first met her. Anything that she could add personality to was subject for a good old shot of “Mor’s Touch:” clothing, home décor, even the cocktails she mixes—which often go from something as simple as a Dirty Shirley and turning it into a cherry-passionfruit with a hint of lime drink, mixed with tonic instead of Sprite and garnished with a frilly umbrella stuck through three Maraschino cherries because “one is simply not enough.”

You agree, and you’d never admit to your eccentric roommate that it’s the most delicious drink you’ve ever had. Goes down like lemonade and has you going from a corner-stander to someone in the center of the dancefloor in two drinks flat.

You wish you had one right about now to get you through the night.

Your mind wanders to Gwyn back at the dorms, wondering what she’s going to be getting up to tonight. You don’t need to wonder, you know how your red-headed roommate prefers to spend her nights, curled up on the couch beneath a thick blanket, a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels within reach, and her laptop in her lap, creating fantasy worlds for her characters to live in some day.

A surge of pride for your roommate fills your energy tank. Sometimes people truly do find exactly what they were made for in life, and Gwyn was born to write. You’ve only read a few snippets she’s been willing to share, but you can’t fathom forming sentences the way she does, creating worlds and characters from her mind alone, seeing a vision in your mind so clear that it would be a crime not to share it with the world.

You’re not sure you’ve ever loved something that much, but Sports Medicine is pretty damn close. Psychology, is not.

You shiver as the cold of the arena hits the sliver of skin that’s exposed itself once again while you were taking a sip of your drink. Goosebumps pebble in response, coursing over the entirety of your body within seconds, causing you to shiver.

You should’ve fought Mor harder about bringing your jacket, but at least she left you sleeves, her shirt has been cut into a tank that hardly reaches the bottom of her ribs, and there’s a deep cut down the collar, creating a perfect ‘V’ that shows off her incredible tits.

You’d know, you’ve seen them before.

“Oh. My. Gosh. You two look so good,” a girl gushes, steps into you and Mor’s path, halting you from your first steps down the stairs to your seats. She’s chipper, a camera poised in her hands, the thick strap around her neck. He shiny, chestnut hair is braided into two tails, draped across her shoulders.

Behind her thin-framed glasses, her bright blue eyes sparkle with excitement as she peruses you and your roommate up and down, admiring your outfits.

“I told you,” Mor murmurs, elbowing you in the side before raising her voice to answer. “Thank you so much! I spent all day on these, and this one doesn’t appreciate my hard work at all. It’s a refreshing change of pace to hear a compliment instead of ‘Mor, don’t you think this is a little too much?’” You scrunch your nose at Mor’s terrible impression of you. Too nasally, too annoying.

The photographer laughs like it’s her full-time job, and you scowl.

Way to throw me right under that speeding bus, Mor.

“Do you mind if I take your picture for the team’s social media account? You two would make a great first slide in a carousel for school spirit,” she gets this faraway look in her eyes as if she’s picturing it now. “The interaction you’d get us,” she sighs dreamily. “I might even get promoted.”

You groan internally when Mor perks up even further. “I think I love you,” she blurts, pupils heart-shaped. “Do you want to sit with us? We have an extra ticket.” She’s bought one for Gwyn, hoping she would join in on this sporty girl’s night, but your other roommate had been adamant about her dislike of the sport, and had gotten a pass while you were dressed up like a doll and dragged out of the dorm.

The girl’s laugh is like a windchime, soothing and melodic. “I wish I could, but duty calls,” she waves her camera around in answer. “Maybe I’ll catch you at one of the after parties, though. Here, you can give me your Instagram and I’ll DM you after tagging you in the photos.”

She and Mor exchange socials and names. Feyre. It’s unique and suits her well.

After adding your own Instagram on her phone, you hand the phone back, posing with Mor. Of course, knowing your roommate as you do, it’s not just one picture that Feyre takes. They’re both beaming, and one picture turns into ten. Ten poses, nine sips of your drink because you don’t know what the hell else to do. Eight frantic smiles, seven internal sighs, and six side-eyes from passerby, trying to find their seats. Five giggles from friends, four embarrassed blushes, three warnings that you are so done with this, two people ignoring you, and one announcement overhead signaling the start of the game in a few minutes.

“So nice to meet you, Feyre,” Mor calls as you begin guiding her away. You have no clue where you’re going, but any movement closer to any empty seat is better than the photoshoot you just had in the middle of the walkway. With a parting smile at the photographer, Mor continues, like she’s all for standing there all night instead of supporting her cousin on the ice. “Message me!”

“Clingy, much?” You grunt at the poke to the arm that gets you.

“Oh, come on! It’s not like I’m going to replace you,” she scoffs with a brush of her long blonde hair over her shoulder. You swear, the guys sitting in the front row swoon. “Besides, you can never have too many friends. It’s not possible.”

You’re pretty sure it is possible to have too many friends, but you keep that thought to yourself. You suppose you have one more spot in your life for a friend, but if the pictures turn out terrible and are blasted on the Bat’s Instagram, that spot might disappear. You’re already feeling mortified enough from the public display of taking photos.

“Yeah, yeah,” is what you decide to go with. “Now, where are our seats?”

“I don’t like the look of that,” you mutter wearily, squinting to see what’s happening on the ice. You might not know anything about hockey, but you know malicious intent when you see it. It’s in the way that the Penguin’s player leans closer to the Bat’s center, nudging his shoulder as he speaks, his slimy grin growing with each jab.

The game’s been fun so far, much to your surprise. The crowd surrounding you is all for the team, chanting songs that you need to learn immediately because they’re so much fun. The music that blasts around the stadium during every break is on-point, not too old of songs and not too overplayed like at the one football game you’d been dragged to last year (also by Mor, but not because of a family member on the team, because of an entirely different member.)

“Is that my cousin?” She asks, brown eyes sharp as she examines the players. Their fronts are to you, no seeing the names painted across the back of their jerseys. You refrain from mentioning how Mor should at least know her own cousin’s number—since their written on the sleeves—but you keep that thought to yourself when her red painted nails tighten around the box of popcorn, crushing the flimsy cardboard. The strain of the muscle in her jaw matches the boy on the ice’s, you notice with a fleeing glance at your roommate.

Tension coils your gut. You find your fingers wrapping around the edge of the seat you’re perched in, gripping the bleachers so tightly that you swear you feel the cool metal warming and warping.

You’re not the only two who have noticed the shift in the moods of the players on the ice, parts of the crowd are beginning to rise from their seats, cheering growing from a low rumble to a thunder of screams, caws, and jeering.

The puck is barely a millimeter from the referee’s hand before sticks are thrown to the ice, gloves following as the two players slowly begin to circle each other. It looks like something out of an animal documentary: two predators about to snap at each other’s throats in a fight for the territory.

The anticipation of them going blow for blow lights a fire deep within your belly, your core perking up for attention.

You shouldn’t be thinking like this, shouldn’t get getting turned on by the idea of two boys about to knock each other’s teeth out. Should be thinking about your best friend’s cousin like this at all.

Shooting a guilty glance at your roommate, you breathe a soft sigh of relief that’s swallowed by the shouts of the crowd when you see that Mor hasn’t picked up on your sudden shift in mood—both mentally and physically.

All the players on the ice slide back to make room for the brawl that’s about to break out and a sick feeling bubbles in your stomach, almost overpowering the arousal as you wonder why no one is attempting to stop them.

There isn’t time to voice your concern, isn’t time to do anything except bolt to your feet with a gasp so harsh it sears your lungs when the Penguin’s player is the first to swing. Your heart is lodged in your throat, your breathing holding in your throat as you watch in anticipation. He lashes out with a curled fist so fast that by the time you blink, it’s over.

His hit doesn’t land.

There’s no time to feel the relief trying to rush through your veins because the Bat’s center is retaliating, throwing himself forward after swiftly dodging the attack. He grabs the other boy by the collar of his ice blue uniform and hauls him into his closed fist.

His opponents helmet goes flying off with the snap of his head backwards. He stumbles, but manages to stay upright, snagging a handful of the Bat’s jersey to try and steady himself.

You look to the benches flanking the ice, wondering why no one is joining the fray. It’s now that you realize it’s not that they don’t want to help their teammate who is quickly ducking away from another fist, it’s because they can’t.

There’s a boy standing nonchalantly, hazel eyes pinned on the scene before him. He looks eager almost, leaning so casually against his stick, chin propped on the edge of it like he’s watching the newest action movie from the best spot in the house.

Even the goalie seems to be unconcerned, taking the few moments he has to take a swig of water and adjust his helmet, squatting low and shooting side to side in his box, as if trying to keep limber for when the game resumes.

One of the refs is attempting to hold back a burly boy who seems much too large to be skating at all. His helmet has also been shucked off, revealing long, shoulder length wet hair that clings to his face and neck like a bee on honey. His gloves are abandoned on the ice too, and his stick has skidded to a stop upon hitting the sideboards nearby. You can’t make out the words he’s shouting, but with the feral grin you make out, you know they’re fighting words. With each bark he seems to be inching closer, like the full-grown man in the stripes trying to hold him back is nothing more than a soft breeze, and his is a twister barreling right through.

When he shakes his head, you catch sight of a bloodthirsty grin that has a shiver sliding up your spine. He’s enjoying this?

“Mor,” your worry tries to escape, only for the words to stick in your throat as more noises join the fight, loud as gunshots. Both the Bat’s and the Penguin’s players are rapping their hockey sticks against the boards separating their benches from the ice, war cries falling from their lips.

They’re all enjoying this.

“That is my cousin,” Mor screeches, her perfectly plucked brows pulled tight as she tries finally makes out the number on the back of the jersey that’s gripped so tightly in the offending players grip that you’re pretty sure the stitches are popping with the force. “Kick his fucking ass, Rhys!”

Casting a frantic look to your roommate, you realize that not even she seems to be fazed by the fact that her cousin is in the middle of a fight that could very seriously end badly, especially with the knives on the bottoms of their feet.

But, if everyone’s rooting for their player to win this battle, you can too.

As gruesome as the scene before you is, you wish you had a better seat, somewhere with a better viewpoint than all the way on the other side of the ice. You can’t to be able to hear the threats they’re growling at each other, your attention completely enraptured now that you’ve shoved your worry to the wayside.

With his newfound hold, the Penguin’s player strikes again, and this time, his hit slams across Rhys’ jaw. His head snaps to the side with the nasty hook and his helmet slips to the ice, the sound eaten up by the goading of the crowd.

They swing around, unsteady on their skates as each of the boys tries to topple the other over. You catch a glance at his face. It’s hard to see, and his shaggy black hair is splayed across his face like a spiderweb, keeping you from making out his features. You catch the blood dribbling down his chin, the anger etched in the clench of his jaw as he grits his teeth, managing to twist himself into a position where he has the upper hand on the Penguin’s player: a headlock.

Your heart thunders in your chest as you watch Rhys pound his fist into the other boy’s face once, twice, three times before his opponent’s feet fall out from under him. Rhys releases his hold, allowing the boy to slip lamely to the ice.

“Atta boy, Rhysie,” Mor shouts, once again shoveling popcorn into her mouth with a grin so bright it could melt the ice in the rink before you. She turns to you, golden brown of her eyes glowing with excitement. “Our parents would be so proud.”

She turns back to the scene before you can voice your confusion on that statement, tucking away the information that if you win a fight in hockey, it’s a great accomplishment.

You watch Rhys as he’s escorted by referees who guide him towards the penalty box. He’s examining his knuckles, not caring that he’s abandoning his equipment as he goes, grimacing as the adrenaline begins to fade. He pokes at them, frowning at whatever he feels.

You pray they’re not broken.

The rest of the players seem to be getting back to the game, like one of their teammates isn’t being casted away on an island across the ice. Okay, so it’s just another bench and he’s not that far from them, but you’re shocked that this is the end of the fight, both players carted into separate timeout boxes away from their teams.

Rhys plops down on the bench, pulling a water bottle from a hidden holder, washing the blood from his knuckles before examining them for a second time. You watch him flex his fingers, twist his wrist this way and that. You can’t seem to keep your eyes off him, even with the game picking back up and Mor shouting cheers when the Bat’s manage to steal the puck right from the drop, carting it down the ice with a speed that rivals a racecar.

He must be satisfied with his examination because Rhys is throwing his head back, and it’s almost as if he’s squirting the water from the bottle directly onto you with the way that the apex of your thigh’s wet at the sight of him. He sips the water, holding the bottle a few inches from his face, and you watch the water cascade down his chin and over his throat, bobbing with each swallow. It mixes with the blood from his split lip and slides into the collar of his gear.

You swallow harshly, suddenly parched.

When he’s had his fill of the drink, he moves the bottle further back, using the spray to wash his hair away from his face, and your breathing shallows. It’s as if the hand he’s using to squeeze the life out of the bottle is constricting around your throat, because suddenly, you recognize the sharp of that jaw, the curve of those eyebrows and the straight of his nose. All his angular features come together in the perfect picture of hotness, knocking the breath fully from your chest when he straightens his chin, looking out onto the ice to watch his teammates score the last goal of the second period.

He's the boy from this morning: the overachiever, the one who called you darling.

Mor’s cousin.

Rhysand Cunningham.

_________________________________________

Over Ice Taglist:

@saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @mrsjna @velarisdusk @bionic-donut @tenshis-cake @eleganttravelercloud @lilah-asteria @serena05 @bwormie @soph1644 @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125

[lecsainz]

DATING WITH JACK

parings: jack hughes x girlfriend!reader

summary: how I think it would be to date jack

authors note: I'm going to start writing about hockey, so if you have any requests, feel free to send them.

✩. . . masterlist !

You and Jack met at a local coffee shop in New Jersey. You didn't really follow hockey, so you had no idea who he was. He noticed you and tried to hide, thinking you might be a fan, but you just thought he was being shy.

When he finally mustered the courage to strike up a conversation, you didn't recognize him, and we had an awkward exchange about our favorite coffee flavors. Jack was pleasantly surprised that you wasn't starstruck.

Our first date was at a local art gallery, as you was more into art than sports. Jack, wanting to impress you, did some quick research on famous artists, which led to some amusing mispronunciations of artists' names.

Jack and you tried to keep our relationship low-key, given his status as a professional athlete. We enjoyed quiet evenings at home and occasionally attended games where you'd pretend to be just another fan.

Jack becomes your personal hockey tutor, explaining the rules and strategies. You start to attend games regularly, and your interest in the sport grows.

You and Jack enjoy watching movies and cooking together on your off days. He's a huge fan of your homemade dishes.

You support Jack in his career, even if it means traveling for away games. You become a true Devils fan and proudly wear his jersey in the stands.

He teaches you the basics of ice skating, and you share cute moments on the rink, occasionally falling but always laughing.

On off-days, you both enjoy exploring the beautiful parks and beaches along the Jersey Shore.

Jack's teammates adore you, and you've become a regular at team gatherings, where you've made friends in the hockey world.

You've introduced Jack to some of your favorite non-hockey hobbies, like hiking, cooking, and binge-watching TV series.

He's always there to comfort you after a tough day, and you support him through the highs and lows of his hockey career.

You two have a playful rivalry in mini-hockey games at home, and Jack swears you have a hidden talent for slapshots.

Date nights often involve watching classic hockey games together or attending charity events to give back to the community.

You've traveled together to see other NHL arenas, making it a goal to visit every one over the years.

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #6: Promise

Prompt: halcyon || Master Post || On AO3 (coming in October)

A/N: Spoilers for Dawntrail.

---

There are days when Gulool Ja Ja misses when his children were small, precocious things.

Zoraal Ja had had a solemnity about him from a young age, even then the pressure of the court’s expectations hanging heavy on the shoulders of the son of Blessing Siblings. But he had still smiled, rare, precious things, every small tilt of his lips and crinkling of his eyes a treasure to Gulool Ja Ja, as he treasured, too, the little trinkets Zoraal Ja brought back for him from his adventures. His eldest thrived most in the training arena and both Resolve had delighted in teaching Zoraal Ja to wield twin blades, gently guiding him through his first practice motions with wooden practice swords as a hatchling, sparring with him as a stripling when he was finally old enough for live steel. Zoraal Ja had beamed with pride in those days with every word of praise from Resolve or Reason or every congratulatory pat on the head or shoulder.

But despite Gulool Ja Ja’s love, and praise, and the assurances that Zoraal Ja needed to be nothing save himself, the expectations continued to pile on his son’s shoulders, that he needed to be more.

Those had been the days where Tural had been as newborn as Zoraal Ja, too, and Gulool Ja Ja regrets the time taken away from his son that being Dawnservant demanded. Now Zoraal Ja is a young man whose smiles had long since vanished and whose compassion had seemingly withered away, and Gulool Ja Ja can only hope the reserved but happy little boy, the one who had proudly handed him a rock shaped like a wivre, still lives within him.

Koana had also been a reserved little boy, almost painfully shy when he first came home to the palace. He had been Gulool Ja Ja’s faithful shadow, the unspoken fear that he would be left behind once more lurking in his big purple eyes. Teaching him to read and write had seen Koana begin to blossom, however, and Reason had never hesitated to reach for a scroll or book just out of range of the little boy’s chubby arms or answer any question Koana had about what he had read or learned from a tutor or heard around the palace. Always Koana had questions—though never about his people among the Hhetsarro.

It wasn’t until even Reason struggled to keep with Koana’s voracious appetite for learning that Gulool Ja Ja was faced with the knowledge he would need to let his son leave the nest in order for him to thrive. Resolve had fretted, and Reason had soothed, and he had sent many a letter to his old friend Galuf to assess the Studium as an adequate institution for his brilliant boy. But he had seen Koana off to Sharlayan at the docks with pride and an enthusiastic wave and known he would be fine.

His son had brought home many wondrous things to improve Tural, and Gulool Ja Ja is as awed as any of his people by dirigibles and steam engines. Koana had gained confidence in his time away, but Gulool Ja Ja worries his son was blinded by the newness of technological and magical wonders and had lost sight of the brilliance Tural’s own people, that he had not done enough to impart the belief that the past still has wisdom aplenty to guide the present into the future.

Wuk Lamat—his sweet, big-hearted Lamaty’i—had come to be his daughter in secret sorrow, entrusted to him by an old friend. And even as a full grown woman, he would never forget how small she had been as a kitten, nestled in the palm of his hand. She had been such a happy child, and that happiness had followed her into adulthood. Rambunctious, energetic, the terror of the palace; if it hadn’t been himself chasing after his wayward daughter through the halls as she shrieked with laughter, it had been Namikka. Lamaty’i had been a bright ball of sunshine, dragging her older brothers and Cahcuia’s quiet little boy into her games whenever she could.

She had taken to the axe with an enthusiasm that had almost made him leery. But for all her talent and hard work in the training yards, Lamaty’i did not rise to the same level of martial prowess as Zoraal Ja. She made friends easily, effortlessly charming many of the people she met, and she knew the names and families and histories of many of the citizens in Tuliyollal. But empathy and a willingness to listen paled before the intellectual brilliance of Koana.

Gulool Ja Ja should not have been so protective a father with his daughter, should have encouraged her to explore the wilds of their beautiful nation rather than keep her sheltered within the safety of Tuliyollal’s walls. Lamaty’i needs confidence and worldliness still, a deeper understanding of why the elders she listens to so love the Tural of today, of what Tural means.

Gulool Ja Ja misses being able to carry his children in his arms as if they were but little quetzals perched on his shoulders. But the future looms ever closer; age nips at his heels, and as Reason fades and fights with every part of his will to stay with his brother for just one more day, he knows he cannot hold onto the image of his sons and daughter as little innocents. And so he writes to his friends and their own children in Wachenpelo, and Ok’hanu, and Earthenshire, and Iq Br’aax, and Mamook, crafting a Rite to not just test his children—and whomever wins the contest he has planned—but to teach them. To guide them. To mold them.

Gulool Ja Ja is a father, but he is also a ruler, imperfect at both, and he cannot let down the people of Tural anymore than he can his children.

The Dawnservant’s children are called the Promises for a reason. The Promises for an ever better and brighter future.

(But that does not mean, late at night, hunched over the enormous desk in his office, as Reason fights growing weariness and Resolve shifts the stylus from his left hand to his right and moves the lamp closer to his side, that Gulool Ja Ja doesn’t wish he had a tiny, sleeping Lamaty’i  squished into his chair next to him on one side, Koana on the other with a book in his small hands, and Zoraal Ja leaning against his shins while tending to his new blades.)

[blaiddfailcam]

I never really thought about it until recording this, but I like the implication that Malenia's Waterfowl Dance utilizes the pool in the arena similarly to a splashing swan to create a razor-sharp slashes of water. (I know the Hand of Malenia refers to them as gusts of wind, but water seems more fitting for her specifically, especially given that she was tutored by the Blue Dancer who emphasized flowing form to combat the stagnation of rot...)

[nutzgunray-lvt]

Class 1A Dynamics (Part 2)

This is going to be consolidated, so I apologize for the long length, but it's going to serve as a conclusion as to why I believe Class 1A's reputation as a found family is undeserved.

In my opinion, the Final Exam arc and Forest Camp arc is when we start to see the cracks in Class 1A's dynamics, as well as their more problematic moments that don't match how they supposedly are as characters. We do get really nice moments of Momo offering her home and services as a tutor to a handful of her classmates (Jirou's interactions with Momo's mom were really cute), but that's it.

Kirishima hears from Bakugou's former middle school friends how they and Bakugou bullied Izuku for his Quirklessness... and promptly ignores it. Mr. Anti Bully hears that the role model he looks up to was/is a bully, and does NOTHING about it. Not even when Bakugou gets them kicked out of whatever place they were studying at and blames IZUKU for it does he do anything other than say, "Lol, classic Bakugou!"

One of the biggest moments, in my opinion, is when Ochako, Ida, Momo, and Tsu (I think it was them? I can't remember) have no objections to Bakugou backhanding Izuku. They hear Recovery Girl saying that they have no communication... and take it at face value. No trying to stand up for him, no saying that Bakugou's the instigator between them, nothing.

(To say nothing how Sero failed the exam for being taken out of the arena unconcious, even though Bakugou passed despite ALSO being unconcious when he was dragged out of the arena 🙄)

The actual camp itself was pretty nice in regard to student interactions. Shouji was worried for both Tokoyami and Izuku (Izuku looked so cute being carried by Shouji 🥹), and Izuku made sure not to place Bakugou's safety over Tokoyami's when Dark Shadow went on its rampage. Tokoyami in turn was perfectly willing to sacrifice his life for Izuku, Shouji, and everyone else's safety. Aoyama risks his life and position as the traitor by clearing a path for Bakugou to get to camp. It was extremely annoying how Todoroki had to keep telling Bakugou not to run towards the villains and not to make the poison gas worse by using his Quirk (collateral damage is a concept Bakugou doesn't give a FUCK about), but I guess that was nice or whatever.

Then came the rescue.

Shouji aknowledges how guilty Izuku and Todoroki must feel about Bakugou's kidnaping, and then Kirishima and Tsu get into an arguement about whether or not to leave the rescue to the adults. I HATE how Kirishima guilted Izuku into joining the rescue. Izuku had broken limbs and a high fever to the point of having seizures. He was unconscious for three days, and for him to be told, "You can still reach him with your arms!" when everyone in class knows Bakugou would (and DID!) refuse Izuku's help is disgusting. In theory, it's nice how they take Bakugou's ego and feelings into account when they decide a small team is going to rescue him (I'll have more to say on that later). But then, Ida tries convincing Izuku not to go... by punching his sick and injured friend hard in the face. Ida, what the FUCK? Did he ever apologize for doing that?

And then not only does Bakugou not ever thank Momo, Ida, Todoroki, Kirishima, and Izuku for rescuing him and risking their place at UA, Aizawa then acts as though the class needs to regain his trust (even though they had no idea the rescue team went through with their plan) when it really should be the other way around. Great father figure he is, right?

So they move to the dorms, and we get a really nice moment where Tsu tearfully apologizes for saying that the rescue team were acting villanous in saving Bakugou. This is all well and good, but then we get to the Licensing Exam. As awesome as it was to see Ida helping Aoyama secure a place in the final round, as awesome as it was seeing everyone defer to Izuku's judgment, it all was completely undone by the bullshit house arrest.

I've gone on and on about how it's my least favorite part of the entire story, but seeing 1A not aknowledge Bakugou's bullying of Izuku yet again really soured my opinion on them. Ida especially gets the brunt of my criticism here, because as one of Izuku's best friend, he should have figured that Izuku not only didn't want to break curfew, he's NEVER looked for a fight when it came to Bakugou. And then when Izuku apologizes (barf) for defending himself, they all accept it like he did something wrong.

I HATE it, and for a while, I hated 1A because of it.

Then we get some smaller moments between that and the stupid Dark Izuku arc that are pretty nice. They express worry and relief for those involved in Eri's rescue, Izuku encourages Jirou to not be afraid to express herself musically, and Mina teaches Aoyama how to dance before the School Festival. Everyone criticizes Izuku for running around and trying to get candy apple ingredients for Eri, and they make fun of him for getting in trouble after the Gentle Criminal fight, blah blah blah. No one cheers for him or encourages him during his mock interview with Mt. Lady, but whatever.

Then Izuku leaves UA.

Not ONCE do ANY of Class 1A consider why he left, even though he literally tells them in the goddamn letters he left for them. Not once do they call out Bakugou for being the actual reason he has such low self-esteem and self sacrifical tendancies. Not once do they consider having just his closest friends find him and bring him back. After all, most of them admit they don't really know Izuku on a personal level. They don't even stand up for Momo when he jumps down her throat for not calling him by his stupid hero name.

Nope, they all decide to just bumrush him and let Bakugou lead the charge.

They let Bakugou make fun of him, project his own flaws onto him, and not once aknowledge that Izuku is neither in the physical condition nor mental condition to be hearing any of that. They then quite literally beat him into submission. Sure, some of the classmates try saying nice things to him about how he helped all of them (Dark Shadow was so gentle with Izuku 🥺), but Sato tries guilt tripping him about Eri, which is just gross.

Then comes the infamous Youtube Apology, where Bakugou talks about Izuku's Quirklessness and how that made him lesser than Bakugou in his eyes. No one reacts to any of this, and instead of just letting Izuku sleep or getting him to the fucking doctor, they throw him in a bath like that'll fix anything. We do get an awesome moment where Tokoyami and Sato call out Bakugou for bullying Izuku again despite supposedly apologizing, but that's chump change, considering what all they put Izuku through.

And then comes the traitor reveal.

I don't blame 1A for being angry at Aoyama, considering how his actions put everyone in danger, but I think it's so strange due to two things. One, Aoyama was clearly coerced into being a traitor. His parents were the ones who made the deal with AFO, and Aoyama was obviously remorseful for his actions. Two, just look at Bakugou. He was the one who not only ran towards the villains in the first place, but everyone had to keep him from making everything worse when they were trying to protect him.

And yet who's the one that gets treated with consideration and kid gloves?

Bakugou.

I can't say anything about the Final War, because everything is so fucking messy, but I guess I will say how nice it is that the class protects the girls from Mineta's sexual harrassment and don't take it laying down.

To close off, Hori did a piss poor job in showing organic development of 1A as supposed super close friends and found family. They all deserved better than what they wound up becoming, and it's just really sad all around.

[genshinemblem564]

Pokémon x Sagau Pt.2

___________________________________________

• A few days later. You had summoned at least one person from each nation who you were familiar with, as well as the Traveler. From Mondstadt, you had summoned Amber, Noelle, Sucrose, and Albedo. From Liyue, Xiangling, Zhongli, Cloud Retainer, and Baizhu. From Inazuma, Kamisato Ayaka, Thoma, Arataki Itto (Shinobu came to keep him out of trouble), and Grandmaster Hanakado. From Sumeru, Kaveh, Dehya, Faruzan, Tighnari, and Collei. From Fontaine, Freminet (The twins came for moral and emotional support), Navia, and Chevreuse. Lastly, Snezhnaya, Childe and Sandrone.

• You explain the situation in full for those who were unaware of the state of things and your reasons for summoning each of them. The mechanically gifted and more dexterous (Amber, Noelle, Thoma, and Collei) among them were to learn to craft pokéballs, as while not machines exactly, they had enough small components that you couldn't leave this in the care of blacksmiths. You apologize to Cloud Retainer as you understand this is rather trivial to her, but she brushes it off, claiming to understand how grave a situation this is. While the others' main priority is to provide pokéballs to the rest, it doesn't mean they can not also aid in capturing the Pokémon that had been flung from their homes.

• You explain that Tighnari, Zhongli, Sucrose, and Albedo's mission is to study these new creatures, as while you may know a great deal about them, you know not which ones have appeared, nor will you always be there to lend guidance, so such information must be made available to the public. Zhongli couldn't help but ask why he was involved in this when he's a stone expert, to which you explain that there is an entire category comprised of living stone as well as those that make use of camouflage, the former geo archon was surprised that living stone was a common thing in another world. Baizhu was told that these creatures could hold medicinal properties and healing powers as well, so you wanted him and Tighnari to find ways to counteract the harmful effects of these creatures by studying them.

• Finally, the rest were to be the first tutored in Pokémon battles. While the craftsmen stayed with Uxie, the rest followed you to the sparring grounds, which were built for the soldiers that stayed in your home to keep them sharp. You, having had some practice in your powers, decided to expand it a little. It helps that it's in the back with nothing hindering expansion aside from a bit of landscaping. The new grounds were designed around a traditional Pokémon battle arena, with clear indication of where each person stands while the battle takes place and a pokéball symbol at the center, and you also create a few bleachers for everyone to watch from.

• You decide the first to battle you would be Arataki Itto. Everyone is surprised by this, but you simply tell them to watch, and they'll see why he was your first choice. You decide to dummon a Pokémon that would fit Itto's battle style at that moment, that Pokémon being Grubbin, and you decided to also use Grubbin to keep things fair, it wouldn't be much of a lesson if you beat him in one hit after all.

• You hand Itto his Grubbin as well as a piece of paper. You explain to him that the words on the paper are the moves that it can use, being Vice Grip, Bug Bite, String Shot, and Spark. Your Grubbin had the same moves. When you both reached your designated places, you commanded your Pokémon to battle.

• You opened by binding your opponent with string shot and hitting them with spark. Once Itto's Grubbin breaks free of string shot, he also commands them to use it. However, instead of binding your Pokémon, he commands his to spin yours around before slamming them into the ground. Just as you thought, Itto's not a traditional trainer by any means. You command Grubbin to use bug bite to break the string before Itto could repeat this tactic.

• You order your Pokémon to use spark, to which Itto's Grubbin responded by burrowing underground. You were shocked at first, you were almost positive it didn't know dig, then you remembered this isn't a game, Pokémon can still use their natural abilities even when their move slots are taken up. After a while, Itto shouted for his Grubbin to use vice grip, after which it burst out of the ground, tossing your Grubbin into the air before catching it with its pincers. The way your Grubbin was trapped made it difficult for it to escape, all the while Itto's Grubbin was squeezing yours tightly. You thought and thought before commanding Grubbin to use spark once more. Because it was in its opponent's pincers, the move immediately started damaging its opponent. Itto then commanded his Grubbin to slam yours into the ground, letting it go while also causing it damage. Both of your Pokémon were barely able to stand, and you decide to call it there.

• Itto nearly collapsed from the adrenaline leaving him. He noticed his Grubbin running or scuttling up to him despite nearly being drained completely in battle. He picks them up and goes to petting the little thing, praising them for an awesome job. You tell Itto that if the two had formed a bond that he may keep them and may even name them. Itto was excited but also confused. You explain that because Pokémon are their own living beings, it is their choice to follow orders, and so a bond is necessary, other wise you won't be able to battle properly or at all in some cases. So, while everyone here would receive a Pokémon to start with, they would need to form a bond with them first.

• As you moved along, gifting everyone their starters and covering the various topics such as type match ups, STAB, status effects, etc. Afterward, you decided to see how everyone else was doing. Most everyone had made about 10-15 pokéballs while those who tinker on a more routine basis had made about 50 each. Due to lacking technology, most notably the lights at the pokéballs' center, these resembled the Hisuian variety.

• You talk with Zhongli and Cloud Retainer in private, again apologizing, as you understand Liyue had a huge ordeal about not relying on Adepti anymore, but in this situation you didn't see a way around it. They told you not to worry about it, as this was quite the perplexing circumstance.

• After everyone had been taught to battle, it was time for the catching lesson. In this case, it was more a throwing lesson for others. While those like Amber, Collei, and Tighnari were good to go, and I imagine Tartaglia had experience in snowball fights, and Shinobu throwing kunai, the others were struggling, either throwing too hard or too soft, rotating their wrist too far, or simply not knowing how to aim their throw. You asked for help from the others because if you were the only one teaching, you were going to be here a while.

• After all of that, you asked them all to teach this to the people of each nation as well, hoping that this would be enough to spread the knowledge to every corner of Teyvat.

• Everyone was satisfied with their roles and were about to leave when Paimon asked why it was so important to catch these Pokémon. You explain that by now, they must have noticed that these creatures are no normal animals, and if left unchecked, would potentially wipe out all other species in Teyvat, not only causing many creatures to go extinct, but because you have no way of knowing how many of every species might appear you could not rely on them to replace those animals in the food chain meaning it would throw the entire ecosystem into chaos. Seeing Paimon's confused face, you added it also means no more sticky honey roast, that certainly got her attention.

• You tell Zhongli one more thing. You open a box of evolutionary stones and ask him to keep an eye out for them as they have extraordinary effects on certain Pokémon and you'd rather these effects not take place in the wild, giving him the box for the other stone experts to examine as well. He bows and makes his way back to Liyue.

• You decide to create a terrarium as an extension to your home, crafting it to the most minute details. It contains multiple biomes, including a swamp, plains with lakes, a jungle, a desert, a beach, an ice mountain, volcanic caves, some normal caves, and a mountain with storm clouds generating lightning (for the Pokémon that feed off of electricity). This would be where all of the Pokémon not in use would be kept.

• By the end of the day, you were exhausted. You thought that if you ever lived with Pokémon, that it would be exciting, you never accounted for having to not only teach people about them, but also make a place to keep them. At least that's behind you now. That night, you slept like a log.

___________________________________________

Sorry if the reader apologized too much, I may have been a people pleaser in the past. I also used this as practice for writing fight scenes, which is a reason why my crossover fanfics haven't updated in a while. Also, I tried to find info on pokéballs, more specifically if they needed to land a certain way to work, and no dice. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this.

[snowdice]

Big Bang Editing Story [Day 121]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story years ago, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag ‘proofread stories.’ I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47 Part 48 Part 49 Part 50 Part 51 Part 52 Part 53

Chapter 54 (Patton)

“I still can’t believe he’s allowing this,” King Thomas said from next to Patton. The two of them were standing at the edge of the arena outside the horse stable, watching from a safe distance.

“If he hadn’t tried to bite me earlier, I’d think he was a different horse,” Patton agreed.

“He doesn’t even let Logan ride him,” the king said. “At least not ride him and give him directions.”

Patton was very aware of that. Logan did on occasion choose to get up onto Mr. Apples’ saddle. However, Mr. Apples was always the once who got to decide where they went after that. Logan had no say.

With that in mind, Patton, Logan, and every stable hand who’d heard about the prospective riding lessons had tried to convince Virgil to learn to ride on a different horse. Virgil was just as stubborn as Mr. Apples however and had insisted. Logan, being the only one who could be around Mr. Apples without risking being kicked, had become his de facto tutor.

Not even Logan could have expected that within a week, Virgil would be able to control Mr. Apples. Though perhaps ‘control’ was the wrong word. Nothing could control Mr. Apples, but for some reason, Mr. Apples seemed willing to do as Virgil asked.

Even right now Mr. Apples was trotting around the training arena like he was a well-trained trick horse warming up with his rider.

“Logan told him we could go on an actual ride today if the lesson went well,” Patton told the king. The lesson seemed to be just getting over because Logan said something to Virgil and Virgil started to climb off. Mr. Apples was patient and still as he dismounted.

“Do you think he’d mind if I went with you?” King Thomas asked.

Patton shrugged. “Mr. Apples might.”

“Mr. Apples definitely will,” the king replied. “I’ll come anyway.”

Logan had walked over to where Patton and the king were standing while Virgil fed Mr. Apples some apple pieces as a reward.

“I hear you’re going to go riding today,” King Thomas said.

Logan nodded. “Mr. Apples seems to listen to him well enough,” he said.

“I might join you if that’s alright. Where are you kids going?” the king asked.

“I was thinking the main forest path,” Logan replied. “It’s not a particularly difficult route, but it’s also a part of the castle grounds Virgil hasn’t been able to see yet. Loraine told me it has been recently cleared after the winter.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” the king said. “Are you going now?”

“Once Patton and I saddle up our horses,” Logan said. “You can come.”

“Great,” the king said with a smile. “I’ll ask for Bella’s saddle to be brought out. I haven’t gone on a ride yet this week.”

He turned then to walk towards the stables leaving Patton and Logan alone.

“Do you think he’s been acting weird?” Logan asked, turning towards Patton.

Patton frowned. “No,” he said. “Not really.”

“I’m just wondering why he wants to go horseback riding with us.”

“He likes spending time with you?” Patton guessed.

“Yes,” Logan said, “but typically in a setting that doesn’t involve Mr. Apples.”

Well, that was fair.

“I mean, it’s not too weird,” Patton said, thinking back through the last couple of days. King Thomas had been a bit… clingy.

“He’s been hanging around a lot,” Logan said, echoing Patton’s thoughts with narrowed eyes. He glanced back at Virgil. “You don’t think Virgil let something slip, do you?”

“He didn’t say anything,” Patton said. “I think your dad would say something if Virgil let slip he was an assassin somehow.”

“Unless he let slip something that didn’t quite implicate himself but invited suspicion.”

“Your dad doesn’t seem suspicious,” Patton said. At least, Patton didn’t think he did. He hadn’t been acting mean in any way. In fact, he might have even been acting nicer.

Logan frowned. “We should keep an eye on him, especially around Virgil.”

Patton bit his lip.

“What?” Logan asked.

“Are we ever going to tell your dad about Virgil?” he asked.

Logan hesitated. “I don’t…” he trailed. “I’m not sure.”

“It just feels weird lying for so long,” Patton said. Patton didn’t lie a lot. Sure, maybe he’d pretend to not know what Mama was talking about when sweets went missing from the kitchens or he’d pretend to not know what Logan’s birthday gift was, but he’d never lied about anything serious before now.

“I know, but,” Logan glanced back at Virgil once again, “even if we did decide to tell, we’d have to convince Virgil everything would be alright beforehand. I don’t think we’re at that point yet. He was terrified of Father until a few months ago, and he’s still cautious around him sometimes.”

Logan was right, of course. Virgil was getting more and more comfortable around the king, but he figured any of the progress made would go down the drain as soon as they brought up telling King Thomas about where exactly Virgil had come from. Patton didn’t know if Virgil would ever be comfortable enough.

“We should go get our own horses,” Logan suggested, and Patton nodded.

Patton and Logan’s horses had already been saddled by the stable hands in anticipation of their ride and it didn’t take long for the king to saddle his own horse, Bella.

The forest path at this time of year was very pretty, Patton thought. The tree branches now had small green leaves on them after having been barren for the entire winter and flowers were starting to grow. In a few weeks’ time it would be even prettier, but it would also be harder for the groundskeeper to maintain as well as it was right now.

Virgil really did seem less anxious around King Thomas now. The path was only wide enough for two horses to go at once, and he didn’t seem to mind that he and the king ended up next to each other while Patton and Logan lagged behind. In fact, he and the king seemed to be having a nice conversation about the local wildlife.

However, if Patton looked close enough, he did sort of see what Logan meant. Virgil may not be anxious talking to the king now, but the king himself seemed just a little bit nervous at least at the beginning of the ride.

He seemed to relax a bit as they rode (even laughing when Mr. Apples tried to bite him when he got too close).

Logan had been teaching Virgil the basics about things like animals, but there was still a pretty big gap in his education when it came to anything that wasn’t about training to fight and kill. King Thomas seemed more than willing to answer any of his questions when it came to the animals and plants around them even if they were sometimes a bit silly.

He’d seen a bird that looked like a dove. (It may have even been a dove, but Patton hadn’t seen it.) This had been a source of endless confusion for him.

“But shouldn’t it live in the dovecote?” Virgil asked.

“Not all birds live in a dovecote,” the king explained again.

“But it’s a dove,” Virgil said with a frown.

“Not all doves live in a dovecote,” the king replied.

“But it’s a dovecote,” Virgil argued. “It’s for the doves.”

“Yes, but there are also wild doves,” the king said.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Virgil replied.

“What about it doesn’t make sense?” the king asked with a laugh in his tone.

“Doves go in the dovecote,” Virgil said.

Patton was starting to have trouble following this argument.

“Dovecotes are made for doves,” the king said, “but not all doves go in dovecotes.”

“Why?”

This seemed to stump the king momentarily, but he still answered after thinking for a bit. “Doves existed before people got to them,” the king explained. “People caught and trained some of them, but there was no way to catch all of them. So, some stayed in the wild and continued with their lives like they had been before humans. Plus, sometimes domesticated doves fly off and never come back. Sometimes they might die, but other times they may have just gotten lost and had to build a new life somewhere far away. Or maybe they even decided that being a trained dove working for humans wasn’t for them, so they decided to go off on their own.”

“You let them do that?” Virgil asked.

“We can’t really stop them in the end,” the king said. “People can try, but it never ends up working as long as they can fly.”

Virgil thought about this. “I still don’t understand,” he said, “but okay.”

“We should take you to the cliffs,” the king suggested.

“What are the cliffs?”

“The castle grounds were built for defense,” King Thomas explained. “The edge of the grounds to the North is a large river and overlooking it is a huge cliff. It’s a good place for picnics and for birdwatching. It’s a bit of a trip, but now would be a good time of year to go.”

He glanced over his shoulder back at Logan and Patton. “What do you boys think about going to the cliffs sometime? Maybe in about a week?”

Logan squinted at his father suspiciously. It wasn’t so much the fact that the king was asking them to go to the cliffs. They did that every so often. However, this time, it only supported Logan’s claims that the king was hanging out with them a lot recently.

“Sure,” Logan said, after a moment.

“Sounds fun!” Patton said cheerily right after, trying to cover for the lack of enthusiasm in Logan’s voice with his own. Judging by King Thomas’s expression and Logan’s tight-lipped scowl, he may have overcompensated.

“Great,” the king said. “I’ll” make sure to make arrangements when we get back to the castle.”

Chapter 55 (Logan)

            Virgil was beginning to be able to read some of the common instructions in magic books, but Logan still made sure to read out the instructions to him at least twice before setting him loose. He’d started to jot down notes to himself about things, though these notes were not words, but various symbols that only made sense to the boy himself.

            Logan had asked about their meaning at one point and received an answer that, while earnest, was unintelligible. The symbols were mostly just pictures of things to represent certain steps in spell casting, but they were filtered through Virgil’s rudimentary penmanship and often bizarre perception of the world.

Though, despite the fact that Logan could not often decipher his chicken scratch, it did seem to help him produce impressively quality charms even as Logan began to introduce more complicated processes to make them. He was a very good student even if he didn’t have the best foundation for learning.

“I add lavender for the next step, right?” Virgil asked, his finger on a word in Logan’s magic book.

“That is correct,” Logan confirmed.

Virgil looked back at the book and mouthed the word ‘lavender’ to himself before turning back to his potion. He grabbed a few sprigs of lavender and threw them into the cauldron.

The liquid popped and bubbled violently, but Virgil didn’t flinch as he once would have, prepared for it now.

After the lavender, Logan knew that it would have to simmer for 5 minutes. Virgil looked down at the boiling liquid, contemplating it for a long moment.

“Can I soak a knife in it?” he asked.

“What?” Logan asked.

“Can I soak a knife in the potion once it’s done?”

“In that potion?” Logan clarified. “In the emergency hand warmer potion?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I think a hot knife would be useful,” Virgil said.

“For what?”

Virgil shrugged. “Cooking food on the road,” he said, “burning wood, stabbing someone and immediately cauterizing the wound.”

“That is… not a standard use for this potion,” Logan said.

Virgil titled his head at him. “Would it work though?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Logan contemplated. “Perhaps. The potion can cause burns if one uses too much of it or if it is used without an appropriate layer between it and the skin. If one were to pick a knife with enough surface area and let it soak long enough, it could in theory get hot enough to do as desired. Hmm…” he thought about it. “There would perhaps be the problem of the potion not sticking to the knife very long as it is intended to soak into fabric. However, cardamom could solve that issue as long as it doesn’t interact with any other ingredients. Let me see that spell.”

Virgil stepped out of his way so he could study the page. “Yes,” Logan said after scanning through all of the ingredients. “I think cardamom would work for something like that. Let me go find some.”

He turned to walk towards where he kept his supplies of potion ingredients. Virgil followed on his heals.

“Can we use a serrated knife?”

“Oh, that’s a good idea, Virgil,” Logan said, nodding as he searched through the cupboard that should hold the coriander. “The knife being serrated would help keep the potion stuck to the blade after many uses and would increase the surface area.”

“That was certainly my intentions,” Virgil said smoothly. There was something odd about the tone that had Logan turning to him and blinking at him. Virgil just smiled at him innocently and Logan turned back to the cabinet finally locating the coriander.

“So how are we going to use that?” Virgil asked.

“We’ll put it in right before the last step and let it sit for about 3 minutes,” Logan said. “If it doesn’t quite work, we may need to make another batch. There are options other than cardamom, but that’s the first idea that comes to mind and it a lot simpler if it works.”

He continued to speak of the many other options they could try as they returned to the caldron as well as how they could test the hot knife. It was already about time for the next step and Virgil did it without interrupting Logan’s rant.

Virgil listened to his suggestions with interest all while still making sure the potion he was making was progressing well.

Logan did eventually take over to finish the potion with the revised steps he’d come up with and they ended up with a potion that looked perfect except it was a few shades darker than the one they’d originally been planning to make.

“Well, it looks good,” Logan declared. “We will need to acquire a knife to test its effectiveness, however.”

“There are a few good ones in the kitchen,” Virgil pointed out. “I especially like the one 10 inch one with the black and white handle.”

“You have been eyeing up the kitchen knives?” Logan asked.

Virgil rolled his eyes as though that was not a perfectly reasonable question to ask him. “We should steal that one,” Virgil said.

“Do you think we’ll be able to sneak past Ms. Heart to steal a knife from her kitchen?” Logan asked.

“We can’t,” Virgil said.

Logan almost didn’t believe him… and then he remembered the water pouch incident. “It’s the dinner rush,” Logan said. “We should probably wait for a bit.”

Virgil was shaking his head. “The dinner rush is the best time,” he said. “Everyone will be distracted, and all of the knives will be out and in prime stealing position.”

“And if Patton’s mother catches us messing around in her kitchen during her busiest time of day, she will have Father ground us for a week.”

“Then we just won’t get caught,” Virgil said.

“I’m not sure if it’s that simple,” Logan said with a frown.

“You can stay here if you want,” Virgil offered. “I’ll just go by myself.”

“No, I’ll come too,” Logan relented, though he did still have some reservations about the idea.

He let Virgil lead him towards the main dining hall. By now, Virgil knew the kitchens and dining hall very well.

“Stay here,” he said. They were in a hallway a few feet down from the staff entrance to the kitchen. “I’m going to do some reconnaissance.”

“What type of reconnaissance?” Logan asked, but Virgil had already disappeared before his very eyes. With a blink, Logan looked up and saw a dark figure disappear onto a balcony overhead.

Well, Logan really had no choice but to wait there for him. It wasn’t like he could follow him. He could hear the clatter of silverware on plates from the dining hall down the corridor as he impatiently waited. It only took Virgil a bit over five minutes to return. He dropped suddenly from above and landed in front of Logan in a crouch.

“Well?” Logan asked, letting a bit of irritation into his tone so Virgil knew he was displeased. Virgil did not seem to care.

“Got it,” Virgil said with a wide grin, brandishing a large kitchen knife.

Logan flinched back at the unexpected sight of a weapon.

“You said you were doing reconnaissance!” he sputtered. “Not…” he trailed off remembering that while they weren’t in eyesight of anyone right now, they could be in earshot of someone. He lowered his tone, “stealing the knife already.”

“I was doing reconnaissance,” Virgil said with a shrug, “and then I used the information gathered by that reconnaissance to steal a knife.”

Logan narrowed his eyes at him.

Virgil just smiled. “You would have gotten in my way.”

“I would not have,” Logan insisted.

“How many times has Patton’s mom caught you stealing food from the kitchens in the past?” he asked.

Logan pursed his lips. “That is Patton’s doing,” he said.

“Sure,” Virgil said with an eyeroll. “I’ll have you prove it some other day, but for now,” he twirled the knife around in a way that made Logan cringe even though he did seem to have an expert handle over it. “We have a knife.”

“Right,” Logan agreed with a nod. “We should continue the experiment.”

Virgil stored the knife away… somewhere on his person, and they snuck back to Logan’s rooms.

When Virgil handed over the knife, Logan did have to admit it was a perfect specimen for their project: long and saw-like with a heatproof handle.

Logan carefully set it in a shallow dish and proceeded to pour the potion they’d made onto it. They let it sit for a little under half an hour before carefully pulling it out of the concoction with tongs and letting it airdry. Meanwhile, Virgil suggested they set up a testing area with various old sheets and clothing. They’d even found and decorated an armor stand with an old suit that Logan particularly disliked.

“Well,” Logan said once he’d tapped the handle and had not gotten burned by the potion. “I think we can test it now.” For safety, he made Virgil put on thick heatproof gloves before handing him the knife.

“So how do I make it work?” Virgil asked.

“The original potion works through light friction,” Logan said.

“So just start stabbing things?”

Logan went to respond, but before he could, Virgil had already twisted around and sliced through one of the sheets hanging in Logan’s potion room. There was a sizzling noise as the knife cut through the sheet like it was tissue paper leaving two aflame halves flapping about.

Logan leapt forward to tear the pieces of sheet down and the two of them stomped on the flames to put out the fire.

“It’s perfect,” Virgil said with a grin once the charred remains of the sheet were extinguished.

“It does seem to work as intended,” Logan agreed.

“Let’s do it again,” Virgil said.

“Er, well, perhaps we shouldn’t…,” Logan started, but Virgil had already set his eyes on the armor stand they’d set up. That suddenly seemed like not such a good idea to Logan.

He stabbed the armor stand viciously. It went up in flames instantly. Logan’s eyes widened as the blaze only seemed to get bigger as Virgil drew back the knife.

Virgil did not seem to share Logan’s worry as he turned and stabbed another piece of hanging clothing, setting it ablaze as well.

“Virgil, no! You’re going to burn the room down!” Logan yelped.

The armor stand at that very moment decided to fall to the ground. They had, perhaps, not set the testing area up as well as they should have because it fell directly onto one of Logan’s rugs and set that on fire as well.

“Oops,” Virgil said, eyes wide.

Above the sound of crackling fire, Logan heard a tapping on the door between his bedroom and work room. It opened slightly after a moment and Logan’s father’s voice called out as he was sticking his head into the room, “Um, what do you mean Virgil… is burning the room down!”

The moment Logan’s father fully processed the presence of the flames, he was bursting into the room. He at least remembered that there was a fire extinguishing powder stocked in Logan’s work room even though that fact had slipped Logan’s mind in the chaos. (Perhaps Logan should have thought to set it out when they were testing a fire knife, but Logan would just add that to his growing list of regrets.)

The king managed to put all of the fires out within 30 seconds of poking his head through the door, but the fire left in his eyes when he turned to them afterwards was perhaps more dangerous.

Virgil slowly hid the knife behind his back. It was probably a bit late for that.

“What were the two of you doing in here?” the king asked.

“Nothing,” Logan said. Virgil shot him a look that told Logan what the boy thought about his lying abilities.

Logan’s father put his hands on his hips. “‘Nothing’ set the rug on fire?”

“We may have been doing a small experiment,” Logan said.

“What experiment?” the king asked.

“…I do not wish to say.”

“Logan.”

“Virgil wanted a fire knife.”

“A what?”

Virgil frowned over at Logan. “Your resistance to interrogation techniques is deplorable.”

Father turned to look at Virgil and obviously spotted the fact that Virgil was holding something behind his back.

“Give it here,” Father said, though his tone was a bit gentler with Virgil than it had been with Logan.

Virgil debated it for a moment, but then offered over the knife with a pout on his face. Father gingerly took it and the fire-resistant gloves from him. “Where did the two of you even get this knife?”

“You can’t tell her,” Logan said.

“You stole a knife from the kitchens?!” the king asked.

“We borrowed it,” Logan said.

“Can it be used for cooking anymore?”

“…Well.”

“In the intended manner.”

“No.”

“Then you stole it.”

Logan just frowned and looked away.

“I’m going to go put this in a secure location,” Father said, grimacing at the fire knife in his hands. “No more experiments for you two for a month. I’ll sic Patton on you.”

With that, he picked up what was left of the fire extinguishing powder (just in case) and turned to exit the room.

“Well,” Logan said once he was gone. “That was irresponsible.”

“I could steal it back from him.”

“N-no don’t do that.”

“I definitely could though,” Virgil said.

“I did not hear you say that,” Logan said, putting his hands over his ears. “I am not responsible for any more of your actions in this matter. I am going to the library.”

He walked out of the room then and Virgil followed him to the upstairs library. He said nothing more about the fire knife, but Logan would be a fool to suppose he forgot about it.

Chapter 56 (Thomas)

“Good day for a picnic,” Helen commented as she handed over the basket Thomas had requested from her a few days before. He was taking Logan, Patton, and Virgil to the cliffs today and it was perfect weather for it. Spring was truly here, which meant that those of Thomas’s duties that had laid dormant over the harsh winter were about to start up again.

The world had been on pause for a bit considering no armies or agents from any kingdom could get through the snow the last few months, but the concerns of last fall were showing their heads once again.

Thomas had just gotten word a day ago that the queen of Lamir had routed out a second assassin hiding in her ranks over the winter. The assassin had been sent shortly after it was made clear that the queen wouldn’t bow down after the assassination of her mother. Luckily, the assassin sent for Queen Cecil had not managed to complete her mission during the winter months.

While there had been no similar attempt on Prijaznia soil, Thomas couldn’t help but feel it was only a matter of time now that the snow had melted. They were already working on increasing security in the coming weeks and, though it was doubtful an assassin had managed to hide in the castle all winter without revealing themselves, they’d be closely scrutinizing all of the newer staff members.

It would be a stressful time in the coming months, which is why, despite everything Thomas needed to do, he was still going to take his son and his son’s friends on a picnic today. Logan had already started taking on royal duties as of late, but he still hadn’t taken them all on quite yet. Considering this was last summer before Logan was of age, they should at least try to take advantage of it where they could. Patton was a year younger, but the sentiment held for him as well.

Then there was Virgil. Despite their best efforts, they still didn’t know enough about Virgil, but Thomas was fairly sure he’d never had a summer to enjoy until now.

“Thanks for prepping lunch for us,” Thomas said to Helen with a smile.

“No problem,” she said waving them off. “I put in some of Virgil’s favorites.”

“Great,” Thomas said. “Do you know where the kids are?”

“Patton said they were going to go pet the cats, so I’d guess they’re in the gardens.”

Thomas thanked her again and told her to have a good day before exiting the kitchen. There was a nearby door that led straight towards the part of the gardens Patton and Logan had always favored. He figured they’d either still be around there or they would have wandered towards the stables by now knowing that they’d be taking horses to the cliffs.

So, he decided to simply walk the normal path from the door to the stable, hoping to find them.

His prediction ended up being hilariously correct. They were indeed on the path Thomas had chosen. It was clear they (or at least Logan) were attempting to make it to the stable. However, as was typical, a portion of the party had been waylaid by whimsy.

Logan was standing further down the path, arms crossed and frowning as he watched his friends. Patton and Virgil were surrounded by cats. Patton was sitting down, holding two of them in his lap and watching Virgil’s legs being swarmed by the rest of them, maybe two dozen in total.

Virgil looked confused, but not unhappy about the presence of so many cats. He was leaning down to try to pet them all.

Logan met Thomas’s eyes as he approached and waved a frustrated hand at the two of them. Logan couldn’t help but smile.

“Virgil fed one of them,” Logan complained as though he wanted Thomas to somehow go into the past and prevent this crime.

Patton and Virgil looked over at Thomas, noticing him when Logan addressed him.

“You’re going to make Princess Marisol jealous,” Thomas said. Logan frowned at Thomas as he used the ‘Princess’ label for the cat.

“Princess Marisol decided not to come,” Virgil said with a shrug. He continued to pet one of the cats.

“She’s probably sleeping on my pillow,” Logan said, sounding grumpy.

Thomas just chuckled. Princess Marisol was technically Logan’s cat, at least that’s what the kids said, and she did spend much of her time in the royal rooms. However, she was very clearly actually Virgil’s cat. Virgil just spent a lot of time in the royal wing as well.

In fact, Thomas still didn’t know where Virgil was supposed to be sleeping. He and Mr. Deknis had actually tried to tail him a couple of times, but he always ended up sleeping in Logan’s room those nights.

Knowing Virgil, he might just sleep in the walls. Though that still did not answer the question of where his parents or guardians were. They still had not figured it out. Thomas would assume he was an orphan who’d snuck onto castle grounds for safety, but Virgil had told Mr. Deknis during their first meeting that he was supposed to be in the castle, and it had not been a lie.

Then again, it had slowly become apparent that Virgil was good at dodging the multrum’s powers. It was starting to seem more likely that he’d somehow inserted a second meaning into his answer to Mr. Deknis that night than he somehow had some ghost guardian no one was able to locate working in the castle.

“She deserves the pillow more than you,” Virgil said, bringing Thomas’s thoughts back to the situation at hand. The look of audacity on Logan’s face made Thomas chuckle.

Thomas cut in before it could become a fight. “I could get Princess Marisol a pillow, so she doesn’t sleep on yours. Or we can get you a new pillow if you’d prefer, Logan.”

“It’s not about the pillow for her,” Logan argued. “It’s about her inflated sense of superiority.”

“She deserves it,” Virgil declared. Thomas could tell he was just trying to rile Logan up, and Thomas was sure Logan knew it too, but still his son reacted exactly in the way Virgil wanted him to.

“You have enabled and encouraged this behavior from the start!” Logan seethed.

“She’s a Princess.”

“She is not a princess!”

Patton shook his head while squeezing the cats in his arms, completely used to this behavior at this point. He ran a chin idly over one of the cat’s heads while watching the argument.

“We’re never going to make it to the picnic at this rate,” Thomas said to him, “and after your mother made all of this wonderful food.”

“You’re the dad,” Patton said. “Make them stop.”

And, of course, Patton did just mean that he was Logan’s dad with that statement. However, when he glanced back up at the silly argument still going on between his son and the cat covered boy on the ground, it did almost look like a fight between siblings.

Especially with the dark hair and stubborn but mischievous look in Virgil’s eyes, Thomas could almost imagine the boy being his own child.

He shook away the thoughts and glanced at the picnic basket in his hand.

“We do have a lot of food in this basket,” Thomas said, pitching his voice up so that Logan (and more importantly) Virgil would hear them clearly.

Virgil immediately turned to look at him, abandoning all interest in antagonizing Logan to look at the basket curiously.

Thomas was never sure if he should be amused or worried about how food motivated Virgil often was.

“What’s in the basket?” Virgil asked.

“I’m not sure,” Thomas said. “Patton’s mom made it. We’ll just have to see once we get to the picnic area.”

Virgil nodded in understanding and began to gently scoot all of the cats out of his lap. Logan rolled his eyes, but didn’t seem inclined to continue the argument he’d been dragged into. Virgil and Patton got to their feet and they continued on their way towards the stables.

The horses Thomas had requested be prepared for their trip were already in saddles, though the stable hand who had been handling Mr. Apples seemed a bit dirtier and more exhausted than the rest.

The stable hand seemed as happy to hand Mr. Apples over to Virgil as Virgil was to have Mr. Apples handed over to him. Thomas received Bella with a smile and Logan and Patton got their own horses as well.

The Cliffs were about half an hour's ride from the main castle. There was a mostly well-maintained path to it, though it was easy to get lost if one didn’t know the way. Mr. Apples knew the way perhaps better than Thomas himself and seemed annoyed by the fact that Thomas was trying to lead the way.

Virgil and Thomas ended up side-by-side whenever the path allowed it to placate him.

He still marveled at how willing Mr. Apples was to let Virgil ride him, especially when he tossed his head in Thomas’s direction, a horse’s equivalent of giving Thomas a stink-eye.

“Are you excited for the picnic?” Thomas asked the boy beside him.

Virgil glanced over at him and nodded.

“I am too,” Thomas said. “It’s always beautiful this time of year. I’m glad I could find the time to take you all there this year.”

“Are you very busy?” Virgil asked curiously.

“I am king,” Thomas reminded, “and now that the world isn’t snowed in anymore things will be busy.”

“With the war?” Virgil asked.

Thomas paused for a few seconds. “Yes,” he confirmed. “With the war, but you don’t need to worry about that.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Virgil asked.

“You’re just a kid,” Thomas said.

“I’m 14,” Virgil said.

Thomas glanced at him. “Exactly,” he said, “a kid, and luckily, you’re in a place that can afford you the luxury of being one.”

“What do you mean?”

“The war has been mainly fought on Mocnejsi soil in recent years. Our boarders have held strong against invasions. Unless something goes horribly wrong suddenly, it would take a long time for the main conflict to get here. The only real threat in the castle would be assassins sent after me personally.”

“Right,” Virgil said. There was an awkward pause in conversation before he spoke again. “You’re winning the war then?” he asked.

“Something could always happen,” Thomas said, “but for the most part, yes, we have quite the advantage right now.”

“Oh,” Virgil said.

Thomas shook his head as they were coming up to a narrowing of the path. “Anyway, today is a day to not think about war. Today we’re going to have a lovely picnic and do some bird watching.”

“Right,” Virgil agreed from behind Thomas as Bella took the lead (to Mr. Apples discontent.)

When the path widened again, Thomas did his best to direct the topic to lighter subjects and soon they made it to The Cliffs.

Chapter 57 (Virgil)

Virgil had never been to a picnic. At least, that’s what Patton had informed him when Virgil had described his past experiences of eating outdoors. Logan had agreed even though he’d admitted that the definition of “picnic” was only eating a pre-packaged meal outdoors which Virgil had done plenty of times.

From what Virgil could tell, the main difference was just how much stuff one brought to a picnic.

In addition to the basket full of food (that Virgil still hadn’t gotten to look in yet), the king had brought a large soft quilt that he had Logan and Virgil spread out on the ground for them all to sit on.

Patton and Logan had also packed some things themselves to bring along. Logan had brought along a book to read, and Patton had brought along a board game (thankfully not checkers but something Virgil did not recognize). Virgil hadn’t brought anything (except for the fire knife he was definitely not supposed to have and was definitely not letting the king see) because he hadn’t known he was supposed to bring things. He wouldn’t have known what to bring anyway.

The blanket was soft and a much better alternative to sitting on the ground, especially because, while there was grass at the top of The Cliffs, there were also a good number of rocks.

The king set the picnic basket in the middle of the blanket once it was spread out and then lowered himself down to sit on one side. Patton quickly followed him, already fiddling with some of his board game pieces, though he wasn’t setting it up yet. Virgil highly doubted that Logan was going to be allowed to read his book unless Patton eventually got bored of the game.

However, they would, hopefully, be allowed to make use of the basket the king had brought along.

Virgil followed the king and Patton’s lead and got to his knees on the blanket across the picnic basket from the king. He peered at the basket curiously.

He didn’t quite know what picnic food was, but Patton had told them they’d be getting ‘picnic food’ and he was very curious about what that meant.

King Thomas smiled at him. “Let’s see what Patton’s mom packed us, huh?” He reached for the basket and flipped it open as Logan sat next to Virgil. “There is a lot more food than usual in here,” the king said, sounding amused. “Let’s see.”

He began to pull out packaged food and glanced in each package to identify it before setting it out.

“We have a few types of mini sandwiches,” he said, putting them down, “and some pasta salad.” He set down the bowl.

“We also have… er something else.” He showed it to Logan.

“They’re hot cauliflower bites,” Logan said instantly upon seeing them. Virgil perked up in excitement. That was one of his favorite foods.

“Ah,” King Thomas said, but shrugged and set it down. “We also have two desserts apparently: cookies and mini apple pies. That last one’s a bit extra for a picnic.”

“They’re very good,” Virgil said happily.

“And we also have.” King Thomas paused, looking confused. “Chicken alfredo?”

“Yes!” Virgil said.

“Why do we have chicken alfredo for a picnic?”

“It’s a Virgil picnic,” Logan groaned. “She packed us a Virgil picnic.”

“Hey, at least momma sent us something too,” Patton said.

“I think I’ll stick to sandwiches for today,” King Thomas said. He looked at Patton and Logan. “Do either of you want…?”

“No,” Logan said. Patton shook his head.

The king nodded and offered the entire covered bowl of chicken alfredo to Virgil. “Here, this one’s yours,” he said.

“Really?” Virgil asked tentatively. It wasn’t exactly strange for people here to offer him food, and he’d expected and anticipated getting to eat on this venture, but the king of the country offering him an entire bowl of his favorite food was something else.

“It’s not really my idea of a picnic food and you seem excited for it,” King Thomas said with a warm smile, still holding it out.

Virgil took it reverently. Despite the time it had taken to get to the cliffs, the bottom of the container was still warm. Virgil assumed it was one of the heating spells the kitchen sometimes used.

“Thanks,” Virgil said, setting it in his lap.

“Of course, Virgil,” the king said.

The bowl was enough for four people to have a little bit, but for one person it was a lot. Still, Virgil was offered a little of every other food in the picnic basket (and he ate a good number of the hot cauliflower bites).

“Where do you put all of that?” the king asked when Virgil finished polishing off the chicken alfredo bowl.

[txttletale]

why don't you like the spellbook mechanic on arena? for my money it's a pretty good way to provide "half" of a tutor that allows control as to what exactly the player has access to and doesn't whiff like an impulse would, like an in-between that's more flexible and allows more cards to have bells and whistles in the same way that ward allows more creatures to have protection because it isn't the same kind of totalizing "off button" that hexproof is. i'm asking this bc i remember you making an off-hand post about it a while ago and i'm really interested in your thoughts on game design especially mtg

i'm a die hard believer in 'reading the card explains the card'. the fundamental problem with the spellbook mechanic is that i as a player can't have a reasonable understanding of what a card with a spellbook can do without either checking it or memorising an often quite long list of cards. it adds a huge amount of informational burden and imo anything it gives back doesn't make that worth it

[mswyrr]

sejanus plinth: doing good vs feeling good

It's necessary to start off by saying that Strabo, his father, really failed him. He brought Sejanus to an entirely new culture at an age when that is difficult. Not only that, but it was a culture, in the Capitol, that Sejanus had every reason to be repulsed by and yet Strabo didn't provide his son with support in adjusting.

Strabo should have arranged special tutoring, arranged advantageous friendships, and provided his son with mentoring and emotional support in making the adjustment. He failed his kid and, since Sejanus dies before he gets to grow up, the fault is mostly with his parents. And given that Strabo and his wife seem to have a marriage where "the man" makes all the decisions and Ma was treated more like another dependent than an equal partner, the responsibility falls on Strabo.

All of that said: Sejanus could have done a lot of good long-term and instead he focused on short-term making himself feel good.

He was the heir of a munitions empire, the heir to the power of District 2, which is the military might the Capitol relies on to maintain control. If he'd been more strategic, he could have ended the tyranny in a matter of decades by decapitating their military power.

He was also "best friends" with a Snow, someone with the family name and social savvy to become president one day. If Sejanus had effectively cultivated that relationship--like, say, noticing that his best friend's family was going hungry/barely scraping by and helped out--they could have worked together to basically change the place without too much bloodshed, the president and the guy with the munitions power. By the time they were in their 80s (Snow's age at the time of Katniss' first Games), the place could have been a democracy.

My read of Coriolanus is that he's not ideologically driven, he's driven by what gives him comfort, safety, and control. A better person than Dr Gaul could have offered him those things, but it would have to be a better person who possessed those things. And the only one with that was Sejanus, but he didn't know how to use it.

Instead, Sejanus consistently makes moves about morality that are about his short-term emotional satisfaction. They're about feeling good. He says things instead of holding his tongue and actually making things happen. He makes dramatic gestures that are easily subverted (going into the Arena). And all of these keep costing other people--his father and Coriolanus--in ways that further diminish his ability to do long-term good.

All of this is why I don't think he's like Katniss Everdeen. True, they both seem to struggle with social skills, a situation I sympathize with. But it is possible to learn to at least recognize and deal with those kind of politics as someone who isn't naturally gifted and Katniss does often desperately try to learn what she needs to do on that level. Sejanus seems not to be interested at all; he refuses to take what little guidance someone is offering, when Coriolanus points things out. Katniss actually tries to listen to Peeta and other people who are trying to give her a clue. She holds back in moments when doing something she wants to do would have knock-on effects politically and for others. Sejanus seemingly refuses to think of the consequences, politically or for others.

She also has none of his potential power. Sejanus had a tremendous pool of power, money, and privilege at his command; he is the heir of of it and he wasted it all. Katniss had nothing and yet did the best she could with it, often prioritizing doing good over feeling good, or else she would have just, like, shot someone instead of shooting the apple out of the pig's mouth that one time.

If Katniss had his kind of power available to her, I think she would have done better with it.

It's not his fault, and he's not a bad guy or anything. I like the character. I think he's well written and interesting and I feel for him. And Strabo is the ultimate one responsible for putting his son in such a no-win situation, but Sejanus, while feeling morals deeply, doesn't actually take advantage of all the ways he had at his disposal to actually make Panem a better place. And that means that he fails entirely to do good in the pursuit of making himself feel good and righteous.

And it's a bitter, horrifying irony, that Snow ends up the heir to that huge pool of power because Strabo failed his son and Sejanus did not have the natural social social and political insight to manage despite being failed. On some level, Strabo wanted a son who was naturally pragmatic and socially gifted like Snow so much that he refused to actually raise and love the son he had, so Snow is what he ended up with.

It's pretty cool that, in the "friendship" between Sejanus and Coriolanus, Collins set up all the ingredients for the two of them to remake and improve Panem and yet the tragedy is that, due to circumstances and personalities and choices, that possibility dies in District 12 on the hanging tree and another, far darker, future is born.

[sexhaver]

I don't actually play MTG, so I'm probably missing something, but Protection Racket doesn't actually interfere with your regular draws, right? Is the issue that it messes up your tutors, or is it just not worth the mana spent?

it doesn't mess with your regular draws, no. the issue is that it "draws" THREE times per upkeep (in a regular 4 player EDH game). in a deck where you play it without any added shenanigans, your turn will start with "drawing" three cards off of Protection Racket, then drawing your real card for turn during your draw step. therefore, at baseline, roughly 75% of the cards you would have otherwise drawn can just be vetoed by your opponents. i cannot overstate how bad giving your opponents veto power over just one of your draws is, and this does it THREE TIMES. PER UPKEEP. EVERY UPKEEP.

and that's just in a deck where you're playing it normally with your one upkeep per turn. in Obeka decks, it gets even worse, because you're taking WAY more than one upkeep per draw step. like, imagine the last scenario where you just have Protection Racket out, but then you hit someone for 2 with Obeka. this gives you two more upkeeps, which "draws" you six more cards. except, again, your opponents have veto power over all of those cards, so they're going to make you not actually draw the ones that would've won you the fucking game (along with any lands because those get exiled for free so congrats you're mana screwed forever now). oh wow, you drew Fury of the Horde and Hatred to create another combat step for free and then kill someone with commander damage? no you didn't, actually.

i know there are people reading this ready to write a reply/anon about how it's not really "free" to veto the card draw because they pay life for it, and to them i say: you know most of the cards in a Voltron deck should represent more face damage to your opponents than their CMC (i will be cold in the ground before calling it "mana value"), right? even in the bonkers magical Christmasland scenario where you manage to hit someone hard enough to "draw" literally your entire deck (probably killing them with commander damage), there is a very good chance that your remaining two opponents will have enough life left to exile any followup plays you would have drawn (extra combat step spells, X-cost instants while you have a Braid of Fire out, etc) and team up to kill you on the crackback.

also you raise a good minor point with the tutors thing. tutors like Mystical and Vampiric that put the card on top of your deck aren't completely fucked over by this card, but it does make it impossible for you to do the usual play pattern of holding up mana for a turn cycle and then casting them on the end step of the player before you. you'd have to actually spend the mana on your own turn during your upkeep after Protection Racket resolves, giving you 1 less mana to work with that turn. barely worth mentioning but it is obnoxious.

tl;dr: stop trying to make fetch Protection Racket happen. if you want a 3 mana black card draw enchantment that scales with multiple upkeeps, you want Phyrexian Arena. if you want to draw 3 cards per upkeep, you want Struggle for Project Purity (yes, letting your opponents draw cards is better than letting them pay life to veto your draws). if you want to have your opponents lose a bunch of life when you take a lot of upkeeps, cast one of the 15 other cards in your deck that does that without making the damage optional. stop handing your opponents the MTG equivalent of the fucking Millenium Eye on crack

[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 16

chapter 28:

1. james’ reaction to waking up from nightmares is so sad. especially cause now sirius can see from james’ perspective what seeing his freind leave the arena was like

2. 😧 shit only this far in and i’m SOBBING. wdym that james almost wished he died in the arena because he was looking forward to not having to go through the aftermath and recovery

3. istg every time the cane is brought up, i’m gonna be like ✨✨THE CANE! REPRESENTATION!!!✨✨ but also like, 😟the cane. he’s in pain. NOOOOO

4. sirius: don’t go to regulus

james: no shit, sherlock.

james: *goes straight to regulus*

5. james is being so angsty, and then in the middle of it, casually brings up his personal tutor

6. 🎶do you wanna build a snowman? elsa please i know you’re in there!🎶

7. the first thing they do when seeing each other again is sob and hug, then IMMEDIATELY go into bickering all like “YOU COULDA DIED BITCH”

8. james gets his glasses back after the interview!!!!

9. “"I don't want to be a great, big tragedy anymore," Regulus chokes out, looking at him almost desperately.”

10. 😑 they both freaking love each other so immensely, that they know they’ll never love anyone else. and reg is still like “no! 😊 i don’t want to break your heart again! take it back! stop loving me!”

11. 😀😀😀 what was that?? another fucking

PARTING GIFT????

12. “Regulus doesn't want to like Remus Lupin, but he likes Remus Lupin.” LMAOO story of my life

13. “"We broke up," Regulus murmurs.

"Oh," Remus repeats, still startled. "You were…together?"

Regulus frowns, gaze drifting to the side. "No."”

😭😭😭 sir that’s so funny

14. i wish so badly that regulus didn’t have fear of bathing, because i know for most people, bathing would be a comfort after escaping the arena

15. i love how reg originally planned to kill to survive, and james planned to die to help reg survive, both of them being gryffindor and slytherin, then the roles reverse, and james is willing to kill for reg and reg is willing to die for james. 💋mwah! perfection!

16. reg understanding and valuing privacy >>>>

17. (but also! background wolfstar my beloved!!)

18. i’m so mad that they have to go into the interview and pretend everything is fine. like, pissed off beyond belief

19. as sad as it is that they’re not gonna date, i’m glad they’re recognizing that they’re not ready for a relationship right now.

chapter 27:

1. DORCAS!!!! 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

2. “"We broke up? This is news to me. I wasn't aware we were together."

"We weren't," Regulus says, heaving a weary sigh.”

😭😭😭 babes, again with the breaking up

3. the discussion that love is more than romance >>>>>>>>>>>> Top Tier

4. 😀😀 rita, it is on site

5. “Rita's days are fucking numbered.” -reg THATS WHAT IVE BEEN SAYING

6. “[Peter] betrayed them all. James would have never done that. He would have died first.” 🙂 yikes. yikes. yikes. canon callback. yikes

7. BWAHAHHAHAHHAHAHA LOSING MY SHIT! NOT REGULUS DECIDING TO GET SIRIUS TO SPEAK DURING THE FUCKING INTERVIEW

8. “”He and I—well, we broke up. That's what he said, in any case."

"You were together?" Sirius asks, startled as well as a little offended that he wasn't at least notified. When the fuck did this happen?

"No, not at all. This was news to me, too, don't feel bad."”

😭😭😭 this is my favorite running joke

9. THE GLASSES ARE BACK

10. “"Oh, it's my dream come true," James teases, playful, his eyes sparkling. "I mean, both Black brothers? You know—"” BWAHAHAHAHA

11. sirius thinking james is a total whore <3333

12. james giving sirius sex advice is the sweetest thing ever

13. “even just the knowledge that Sirius is probably having sex for the very first time because he wants to, because he's at a place that he's comfortable, because he trusts Remus enough to do it.”

awwww i’m so happy that sirius feels safe enough to have that intimate moment with someone

14. sirius and regulus getting to feel like brothers again is heartbreaking

15. “He's so small. He's five, he's fifteen, he's twenty-five and Sirius' little brother. Always his little brother.”

16. sirius being nervous and fumbley and so awkward about sex is the funniest thing to me. so reminiscent of my first time tbh

17. “"You shouldn't be embarrassed, you know. There's nothing embarrassing about pleasure."

"Fuck you, it's so embarrassing," Sirius counters.”

he’s so real for that 😭😭😭

18. remus lupin: be gay do crime

19. “It takes them a bit to recover, admittedly. Love tends to have that effect, especially when you're making it.”

that line is so beautiful. like, insanely beautiful

[drmajalis]

Mari's Lessons For a Better Commander Experience (not applicable for CEDH)

These all come from my years of playing Commander, constantly tinkering with decks, talking with others, and reading theory articles. These tips aren't all necessarily designed to make you a more powerful player, but to have more fun playing, and also to help others at your table have more fun as well.

Be honest about your deck's power to the playgroup. Instead of picking a number between 1 and 10, just say what your win cons are and whether you/how easily you assemble infinite combos.

People who deliberately only bring/only have one super overtuned, powerful deck probably won't make friends.

If you want to make friends, make your decks fun to play against, and avoid cards you feel like groaning to when they're played by others.

If you must have a drink at the table, invest in a water bottle with a locking mechanism.

If you hate being the target, don't play stax.

Get used to being targetted if you take early/commanding leads, maybe wait a bit before playing that Sol Ring in your opening hand.

Spite plays rarely help you in the long run.

Never play less than 38 lands in a multi-colour deck, or 34 lands in a mono-colour deck.

No more than 1/4 of your lands should enter tapped. If you do not have enough enters untapped dual lands, just run more basics.

Lands like Tectonic Edge and Ghost Quarter are essentially free includes; always be prepared for Cabal Coffers and other problem lands.

Keep your instant speed interaction cheap in mana cost, you are not going to consistently hold up five mana for Desertion.

You can never run too much card draw.

Do not let your opponents draw tons of free cards off Rhystic Study/Esper Sentinel etc. your spells can wait a turn. It is easy to forget how quickly massive card advantage can unbalance a game.

You probably don't need Chromatic Lantern unless your deck is 4 or 5 colour.

Two-mana ramp spells/permanents are almost always the most optimal. Cultivate and Kodama's Reach are not as good as they feel to play.

Never neglect artifact/enchantment removal.

You should always run at least 3 wrath-type spells/effects.

Modal cards are your best friends.

If the choice is between running a tutor, or a powerful card advantage piece like Phyrexian Arena, choose the Phyrexian Arena every time.

[baratiddyappreciator]

Hii! I heard you take requests? How about some childhood headcanons? Like what were these guys like when they were small… :0

Oh I am so glad someone asked this one because I've been having ideas bouncing around but haven't actually thought of making a post of my own. (Throwing in a bonus Natsue and Tokugawa because why not?)

Baki:

He was a trouble-maker through and through. He didn't pay attention whenever he did attend school, and he'd always pick fights with any kids bigger or stronger than him so he could improve and get stronger, like his father.

Emi probably got a lot of phone calls from the schools to come get her rowdy ass child because he was being a menace. He wouldn't bully kids, but he would bully the bullies, and while a lot of the younger kids admired him because he'd get the bullies off their backs, they also feared him.

Baki has chilled out a lot since he first fought his father and joined the underground arena, bro used to be a fireball.

Kozue:

She was an angel, a quiet child, but an angel. She was sweet and helping her teachers with any tasks that they were doing. This girl cleaned the chalkboards, helped tidy up the class, and would even collect test papers and set them on the teachers desk, all without even being asked to.

Sweet to even the other kids, she wouldn't get picked on because most of the older kids thought she was just too adorable, and any attempts from younger students to pick on Kozue were very quickly thwarted by older kids, and once even Baki, though that was completely unintentional.

Despite her hard-working personality, sometimes Kozue would finish up early enough to just sit and doodle on her work instead of doing other things. The margins of her notebooks would be full of little flowers, butterflies and cats.

Hanayama:

Quiet. Very quiet. He didn't really have a lot of friends as a kid, he was just big and quiet and other kids were too scared of him to really bother him. He spent a lot of time with his mom instead of his dad, though considering his dad passed pretty early on in his life, that wasn't really something he did willingly.

He didn't talk to a lot of kids, instead, he found himself mostly hanging around adults, so he's got a very old man way of speaking compared to other people his age, but sometimes he slips into a more expected tone.

It wasn't until he was about thirteen that he really started getting a cocky attitude, and by that point it was just puberty, which, obviously, hit him like a fuckin bus.

Katsumi:

Before he was adopted by Doppo and Natsue, he was a pretty careless kid, but seeing his own biological father get mauled by a lion did a number on him. He used to have nightmares about it, but after a few years of therapy and care from Doppo and Natsue, he came to terms with it.

Given the chance, with the proper financial support and some of the best out there, Katsumi absolutely flourished. Doppo was teaching him Karate, sure, but he also had tutors to help him get some of the best grades in class.

He started slacking off when he was about sixteen, but he still did fairly good. He was a major spoiled brat when he was in his mid teens, though he did still at least treat his mother well.

Jack:

He was always a really quiet kid, even before he was put back into his mom's custody, and he just kept getting quieter as he got older. Part of that is due to Diane's poor parenting, but another part of that is just his own personality.

Man was an absolute menace, he would crack back at anyone if they annoyed him enough, teachers, other students, anyone. He's quick with his words, though he doesn't always use them.

He's really good with younger kids, purely because he'd be running around just as much as them when he was younger in an attempt to get his stamina and strength up. He quickly became that cool older kid that would lay the younger kids climb all over him.

Kosho:

He was very similar to Kozue as a child, surprisingly enough, very quiet, but super sweet towards his teachers. Unlike Kozue though, the only thing protecting him from bullies was Kureha, and if Kureha wasn't there, he was free game.

By the time Kureha was going into high school, Kosho was left alone by bullies, because good lord he had this feral look in his eyes and nobody was about to mess with that.

He'd lose his homework a lot, not when it was time to turn it in, but right when it was handed to him. It would go into his bag, and then it would just vanish. He'd always find it in time to fill it out and hand it in, but it was just an odd occurrence he never knew how to explain.

Kureha:

He was a well behaved child, but ask any of his old teachers and they would tell you that they just got this feeling that this kid was weird, but he never really did anything worthy of getting into trouble.

He was sly, and he was really good at being sly. If he wanted someone to do something, he'd find a way to get them to do it without him even having to ask them to do it.

Definitely had a reputation as a boy scout to literally everyone but the kids that would pick on his younger brother. Because once there were no eyes on them, this man was a straight menace.

Retsu:

An ANGEL, just an absolute sweetheart. He looked up to his teachers and mentors. Really, before he accidentally, you know, killed a man, he was a perfectly sweet person.

He absolutely was the kind of kid that got jealous that he didn't have a full beard. Look at some of the people he grew up around, he was absolutely fuming that he didn't have a full beard. Until he tried to grow one, then he realised that they weren't for him and has been clean shaven since.

Someone had to show him how to braid hair at some point, and he was just flabbergasted by the idea. He tried to braid literally everything that he could just do that.

Doppo:

An absolute charmer. We all know that super charismatic kid, and that was definitely Doppo. Just look at that smile! You can't tell me that he didn't learn that a grin like that could get people to do what he wanted.

He was a smug bastard too, definitely one kid that would annoy the hell out of any adult, but one that would absolutely be popular with other students because "oh look he's talking back to the teacher"

He was a class clown in high school, all charming and funny, but he would start stuttering whenever Natsue walked into the room. Man was head over heels for her, even back then.

Natsue:

Natsue has always been somewhat of an old soul, even when she was little, but she was absolutely a girlie girl for a long time. Everything had to be pink or purple, pastels were her favourites.

She loved going to different field trips to important landmarks, she's always liked them and finds them relaxing to go to.

On her first date with Doppo, he took her to a festival, got all dressed up and everything, only for him to get a "random" and violent nosebleed (he got punched in the face before he went and it was a delayed reaction) and they wound up just ditching the festival to go sit up by the river and watch the fireworks.

Shibukawa:

T R O U B L E. Just trouble. He was a brat and a little shit. Stinky man. Problem causer. He would constantly pull pranks and cause problems in his classes and at home.

If this man had siblings then I guarantee you he was simultaneously the favourite and least favourite. Because he absolutely would do something stupid and blame it on his siblings, then make it up to them later... Only to do the same thing and get them in trouble.

He was absolutely the fun older kid that showed the younger ones cool tricks and funny jokes, if only to spread some mischief.

Tokugawa:

He wasn't too different, admittedly. Just take him, remove the wrinkles, give him hair and shrink him a little bit, and boom, you have child Tokugawa, relatively care-free and happy-go-lucky.

Really, the only thing that made him stand out was his knack for finding talented fighters. He would just get really quiet, and then, in a sweet little child voice, he'd point at someone and go "you've killed someone before"

He and Sabuko used to be really close, but when he inherited the dome they started to grow apart, especially since she had her own life to handle.

[theunbonded]

The Unbonded: A Fourth Wing Story

Beatrice Capplynger came to Basgiath for one reason: to become the best rider in the quadrant. She has years of tutoring and training, yet nothing could have prepared her for the brutal truths of Navarre's war college. As Beatrice struggles to decide who is friend and who is foe, she must learn to survive in an arena where she is no longer the strongest. It doesn't help that her section leader keeps digging into her life, and that he seems to think her biggest enemy is someone she cannot easily conquer: herself.

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