#as far as i can tell there's an infinite number of levels and what you get is randomized to some extent.

[flash-from-the-past]

Dream Pet Link 2

[pomefioredove]

Hiya! Do you think you could write something romantic and fluffy with Vil? I love him!

hi anon of course! I am so unwell about this man

summary: being friends with vil schoenheit has its perks type of post: fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, FLUFFY, mentions of food, friends to lovers huhuhu, maybe a tiny bit suggestive but also not really? lap-sitting and kissing

Someone should write a guide on how to be friends with Vil Schoenheit.

It did not come as naturally to you as you would have hoped. There were times when he felt like a star in your presence, not the actor kind, but the heavenly body.

Bright, and burning, and millions of miles away. Even as he sat directly across from you.

"You're not eating," he remarks. The comment is not degrading, though it is tinged with curiosity. "Is it bad?"

You haven't even sampled the meal yet- something fancy and expensive that you likely couldn't pronounce. He'd ordered it for you.

"It's okay," you lie.

He either buys your excuse, or ignores it. Either way, he reaches across the gossamer table cloth and switches your plates without asking.

Vil Schoenheit Friendship Survival Manual, rule number one: always assume his judgment is correct, until proven otherwise.

You look down at the plate- some kind of vegetable dish. He urges you on with a nod, lilac eyes fixed firmly on your pleasantly surprised reaction when you take a bite.

Rule number two: his judgment is always correct.

"Better?" he asks, not bothering to finish your food. He'll likely get something else later. "You really shouldn't skip meals. If you were feeling unwell, you should have said so. I would've ordered something lighter for you."

"Sorry. Didn't think of it," you say, taking another bite of his meal, if only to appease him.

You're hesitant to mention that the heavy feeling in your chest wasn't from illness, and so you say nothing more.

"No need to apologize. Here,"

Vil delicately reaches across the table and dabs at the corner of your mouth with his napkin. You hate how light-headed such a simple action makes you feel.

"Better. And don't worry about smudging anything, I have a few new products I'd like to try out on you later,"

Rule number three: always accept his gifts.

"Thanks," you murmur.

You were starting to feel as if you really were ill, the way your entire body warmed in his presence. Vil brought out a feverish sort of stupidity in you that made outings like this a minefield to navigate.

How painfully cliché, you thought. Hopelessly in love with someone far out of your league, with infinite options, none of which you could even hope to catch up to...

It made these evenings together pure torture.

You felt guilty for wishing he wasn't such an amazing friend. Must he insist on showering you in gifts and holding your hand every time you cross the street?

But being in his bedroom is another, dirtier realm of guilt. Vil saw you as a friend. Platonic. Someone he confided in, who he took under his wing. You were allowed to see parts of him no one else had, and yet, you can hardly pay attention to what he's saying because you can't stop thinking about the way his lips look when he speaks.

"Did you understand any of that?" he asks, bending down to your level as you sit on his bed. On his bed. And you had the mind to be thinking about doing romantic things...

Rule number four: speak when spoken to.

"No, sorry, I've just had a lot on my mind lately,"

Vil clicks his tongue and holds a hand to your forehead, feeling for temperature. "And you're sure you're not ill?"

"I'm fine! Just distracted,"

He chuckles, walking across the room to peruse his vanity. "Hm... and what sort of thoughts have got you scatterbrained today?"

You can feel your skin burning again. He could tell, couldn't he? All these weeks of coming undone every time he so much as looks your way couldn't have gone over his head... could they?

Or perhaps he was just used to people staring at him, stumbling over their words every time he spoke. Perhaps you were just another foolish fan who'd gotten to know him before falling in love.

You couldn't help but wish that there was someone or something that would just tell you what to do.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

Vil sits beside you, a small, wooden box in hand.

"I'm supposed to promote these next weekend, but I'm not sure about them, yet," he says, opening the lid to reveal a plethora of lipsticks that likely cost more than your existence. "I'll need your opinion, of course."

"Right," you murmur.

"And I'd like to try them on you, as well,"

"Of course,"

"And you're alright with that?"

You nod. Ever the gentleman, always asking for permission. He's been quite generous with his products lately, giving them away to you like candy. You're almost certain he has a full list of your allergens somewhere.

Vil returns to the vanity, delicately prepping, and then applying the first shade. It's a marvelous, metallic pink, with dark red undertones that make it a regal color. It suits him, and you say as much.

"Oh, you think so? I suppose it does compliment my eyes, although I'd definitely need to pair it with something darker, else it become too overpowering..."

He clicks his tongue, and then turns to look over his shoulder at you.

"Your turn. Come sit,"

There isn't another chair at the vanity, and you take that as your cue to awkwardly stand in front of him until he tells you what to do. He chuckles, amused by some thought of his that he doesn't share aloud.

"What are you standing there for? Sit,"

You awkwardly look around the space, eyes searching for a mysteriously hidden stool, something that should have been obvious...

He smiles. "Oh, don't be shy. We've known each other long enough by now, haven't we?"

You can't think of the right thing to ask, although your thoughts are quickly cut off by the sight of him gently patting his lap.

Sevens. If there were any time to wake up, this was it.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

He's not joking, of course. Vil hardly jokes. And so, you awkwardly straddle his lap, facing towards him, and allow him to get a good look at your visage.

He holds your chin firmly, studying your features as if he hasn't already seen them a thousand times before.

"Stay still,"

He's going to give you a heart attack, and there's a little quirk in his smile that tells you he knows it, too.

You wonder what your tag at the morgue will say. Death by Vil Schoenheit?

He starts with your skin, commenting on how soft it's gotten since he met you, then your eyes...

...Once he's satisfied, as he always is with his work, he turns your head so you can admire the makeup look in the mirror behind you.

"Stunning," he comments. "But you're missing something."

You look back, eyes wide. Surely, he hadn't forgotten something...? That's simply not in his nature.

He smiles at your confusion. "Remember? You promised to test these for me?"

Right. The lipstick. You nod. "Yes, but, I thought you'd already..."

"Oh, I do like the color. I'm just worried about this brand," Vil says. He looks away for a moment, almost as if to summon his courage... what a strange expression on him.

"What's wrong with the brand?"

He turns back with a small smirk. "They have a nasty reputation for smudging easily. I wouldn't want to make a fool of myself next weekend, hm?"

His cups your chin again, bringing you closer.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him!

He tilts his head to the side. "You don't mind, do you?"

You couldn't have shaken your head any faster, even with his grip on your chin.

"Good. Now, stay still. I think this will be a good color on you, anyway,"

He pulls you in with ease, letting his lips rest on yours for a second or two, before pulling back. Short but sweet, enough to make you feel like your entire body has gone numb.

He inspects your face, humming to himself...

"Good so far," he says, bringing you closer again. "But that was too safe. I won't hold back next time. Are you ready?"

You nod. Barely anything had happened, and you're already breathless. "Ready,"

Another smile crosses his perfect face, though he doesn't give you any time to admire it before he's kissing you again, one hand still cupping your face, the other holding the back of your neck and pressing you closer.

Definitely not a very platonic kiss.

It takes him longer to pull away this time, though when he does, it gives you a perfect view of his still-pristine makeup.

"Hmm... still nothing. I'm quite impressed with this line," he says, reaching behind you and returning with the wooden box. "How do you feel?"

Dizzy. Light-headed. Warm.

"Good," you say.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

Or do.

"Not too much, I hope?"

A delightful realization was beginning to come over you, one that made all you had thought about him null and void:

No one else could possibly give you a guide on Vil Schoenheit, because he writes the rules himself.

"No. That was perfect,"

"Excellent," he smiles, and flips the box open again. "Because we still have six more colors to test."

[matchibee]

A Web of Their Own Design (pt. 5)

the plot is thickening, I promise everything has a purpose. semi-proof read, i’m lazy but with standards.

"Hobie, I..." Words refused to string together, simple tasks burdensome, impossible. You didn’t know where your words would begin nor where they’d end, the possibility of bringing unseen experiences to the front of your mind troubling.

Hobie seemed acutely attentive, looking to you with remorse, dropping himself onto one knee, hands shoved into the pockets upon his multi-patched jacket. He look to you critically, scanning your features, not missing a single detail. Once he condemned them to memory, to past experiences — heart rate, pupil dilation, breathing habits — he only had one thing to tell you. The one thing he had to tell you to make everything feel a semblance of what it was. Even if it never would be, never could be.

"You don't need to say it, I know."

What did he know? You thought to the context, the way you must appear to the external. It would be obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes, let alone spider senses, you were going through some type of turmoil. Whether it be of your own design or from the outside was unclear, at least to the untrained eye. And then a thought seemed to plague you, encapsulating you in only blackness — a shadow — as you pondered upon what he’d said. Why he’d said it.

He knew as in he knew the situation, the network that connected the various Spiders keeping him informed? Or had Hobie been exposed to enough losses he'd become desensitized; developing a meter for grief? You know? "You do?" You were skeptical.

"It's a fucked up world — universe — multiverse that we live in, man. It ain't fair, not right that we have to live like this and simply accept it."

You replied through tears, "The canon event shit?"

"The entire thing! Why should we be expected to devote our lives, ourselves, to fighting crime? We lose our reason, loved ones; all what for what?What have they — those institutions that created us, forced us into this life — ever done for us besides condemn us, wanting us gone?”

He’d gone onto an entire tangent and you’d simply allowed him to, sitting wordlessly as he was as expressive as ever — without or without the mask — Hobie was as theatrical as they came. Even if his words were correct, even if they struck a chord.

“We’re a pawn to their game, to the people. Working with those blokes that want us dead, yeah? Damn those cops... Damn them all." Hobie slumped beside you, maintaining his distance, moral support in his own mouth fully wordless way — the only way he knew how.

You didn’t know what to say, could only discern his words from a surface level of understanding. How badly you knew he was correct, how diligently you worked to keep thoughts of grief below the surface.

"About this uh... Anomaly? When did you detect it?" You choked out your words, throat dry, lips cracked. A fish out of water. Tears so far gone your body had deprived you of the nectar of life.

"Don't trouble yourself with that," Hobie stood to his feet, back slouched, boots pattering against hardwood flooring, "I'll contact Bossman, let him know the deal. He can handle it. Big man, that one."

This was your job. Your place in the multiverse. If you weren’t there to be the Spider to your people, to those that relied on your protection; what were you?

You’d lost your sense of self, sense of reason. Everyday you seemed to stray further from yourself and closer to this persona you’d created. Were you a person with their own life? A Spider whose life revolved around others?

Besides, you didn't want Miguel to have to handle it, extending himself too far, just like you’d done these past — fuck, how long had you been a hero, again? He tended to an infinite number of multiverses, doing his best to control outbreaks as they presented themselves, the best interest of the people in mind.

He didn't want to see innocent people overrun with malice, neither did you.

Even if Hobie wouldn't admit it, he didn't want that, either.

"Grief can put itself on hold," Could it really? You'd hardly begun the grieving process when Hobie showed up rearing for a fight. The loss of a life, friendship, multiple. Anyone would be rendered bedridden for the next few weeks, months. To know that such transgressions could’ve been prevented if only they’d been there? An eternity.

Spiders didn't have that luxury, not in this life, nor the next. Even if you pushed the thoughts and responsibilities away, they'd forever persist. It was your responsibility divined by the multiverse, a vessel chosen to bare the responsibility, a web that required your attention.

You couldn't break away without running the risk of severing its fickle connections. All it took was a single moment, a stroke of bad luck, and your universe would cease to exist.

You couldn't allow such transgressions to occur. If not for yourself, for the people who would lose their lives to a premature death.

"If there's an anomaly I should be there to deliver it from evil."

"Nobility doesn't suit you, not now."

Hobie was slowly but surely breaking down your walls in an attempt to rebuild you, mold you into someone capable of living for themselves rather than the people — it was your fatal flaw, the reason you lost so much in such little time — incapable of keeping up with the personas of daily life.

Spider. Sibling. Lover. Child.

You couldn't have it all, couldn't remember special occasions, finding them pushed further into the back of your mind as crime picked up during the holidays. Presents gone unwrapped, piling up in the corner of your apartment, holiday cards unopened. They only wanted to see you, make sure their darling child was alright.

Spider. Sibling. Lover.

Love didn't work for a Spider, time too inconsistent, intimate moments disrupted by the cruel reality of crime. Scrapes and bruises impossible to hide as wandering hands traversed the most delicate parts of sensitive skin, lies only deepening the rift between love and like.

Spider. Sibling.

Eventually they grew tired of lies, tired of an identity you work diligently to hide. The person who once ate sand alongside you now spat words of malice, siding with a parent stricken with grief, fearing they might lose someone of their own fruition. Siblings are fickle, fights breaking out for the smallest of instances. Usually they're simple to remedy, an ice cream cone and a shove, but not this time.

Spider.

The only thing that remained consistent.

The reason everything was unable to coexist.

The only thing you had left.

Hobie had tracked the anomaly to central Newer York, the two of you discovering nothing out of the ordinary upon your arrival, the typical hustle and bustle of the working class's evening, returning home to adoring families, perhaps none at all.

Multiverse knows you had nothing to return to.

From damn-near thin air Hobie produced the small spider surveillance mechanism Lyla had taught you to use, the AI a whisper away in the dead of the night — a cheeky conversationalist if you entertained her, but your experience was far from first-hand.

Things change.

"Miguel wants to know if you two were successful in apprehending the anomaly." She fluttered at your shoulder, craning her to look you in the eyes — spider-eyes, but eyes nonetheless.

"Not particularly...?"

"I'll let him now."

"No!" You and Hobie were quick to shout in a succinct unison, terrifying you, a shiver running down your spine. You continued before the Spider-Punk, "I'd rather do this of our own voilition, y'know? Learn the ropes without a teacher breathing down my neck?"

"I completely understand," Your breath stilled, Hobie extending his fist, your own colliding with boney knuckles. "Unfortunately, I've already contacted him."

"Lyla!" Hobie shouted, running his palms down his mask. "Why would you do that to us, man! Way to kill the vibe!"

"Matar la vibra?"

Your backs grew rigid, Hobie swatting at you, wordlessly telling you to turn around, greet the man. You did the same, if not with more force, Miguel the one to inevitably deliver you from your silent argument.

Claws gripped where your suit pooled around your neck, raising you to the air like a cat to its infant, looking between the both of you with a scrutinous gaze. "Some maturity, children. I'm not a babysitter."

You crossed your arms over your chest, mumbling something under your breath, Miguel humming in prompt to continue.

"I'd appreciate if you'd stop calling me that."

"I'll call you whatever I want until I believe you deserve a different title, niño."

"I'm not a child."

Hobie furrowed his brows, "You speak Spanish?"

You tossed your hand back and forth, so-so, "Highschool Spanish, you can fill in the blanks."

"Teach me."

"Enough!" Miguel dropped you on your asses, your hand flying to rub at your tailbone, wincing. "Did you two spot the anomaly, or not."

“Or.”

You snickered at Hobie’s response, elbowing him at his side, Hobie responding with the same. Miguel from his spot above you, shoulders tensed and stare running like a chill down your spine, was far from amused.

"Doesn't appear to be showing up on my scanner." Hobie replied in a mumble, displaying his watch for Miguel to view, looking anywhere except the man above him.

The man groaned, turning to you. "Nothing?"

You nodded your head, smacking the watch with your palm for good measure, hoping to get some sort of reaction out of it. "Hey!" Miguel snatched your wrist, holding it his chest. "Sensitive technology, cabrón. Don't handle it like your toys."

You huffed, attempting to pull yourself free, Miguel smirking from above you. "You don't know how I play with my toys," Raising your mask to stick out your tongue, Miguel was thoroughly stunned, releasing you from his grasp.

He clicked his tongue, "toñto."

The three of you decided it was in your best interest to part ways for the time being, scouring the streets for the supposed anomaly, not a trace of where they could've gone in sight. As far as files had gone, Lyla nagging you with information as you wandered the streets, you were dealing with someone who had the ability to camouflage in some form, rendering it impossible for them to be picked up on the scanners. Perhaps an ability of invisibility, but you couldn’t be sure.

It was as though they'd vanished entirely, flat off the face of your universe, but according to your cumulative watches, a disturbance still persisted.

What could it be?

"Spider!" A voice you hadn't heard in a few days called out to you, blonde ribbons filling your vision, "Been a minute, hasn't it? How are you holding up?"

You smiled beneath the mask, grateful for simple conversation that didn't entail work. "I find I'm doing well, Officer. I hope I'm not under arrest?"

Hunter waved his hand, smiling at you with a roll of his eyes, "No way! Captain Perez is mental if he thinks I'm arresting the city's protector."

"I wouldn't call myself a protector, per say."

"Oh I would," Hunter approached you, taking your hands in his own, finger circling your palm. "I've been a diligent observer of your work for quite some time, Spider. You started this business when I was only a freshman, and so were you!"

"How do you know how..."

"I keep a close eye on the things I like. And you? I like you the most!"

The interaction had gone from wholesome to horrifying in a mere matter of seconds, a nervous laugh preceding your attempt at escape, finding his grip around your wrist tightened. "What I wouldn't give to see the face beneath the mask..." A hand detached from your wrist, snaking up the back of your head, "I promise Captain Perez would be none the wiser... Just a peek?"

You tensed, hands against the man’s wrists, squeezing in an effort to get away. Why was it that when you believed someone to have your best interests at heart, they always seemed to prove you wrong?

You couldn’t meet anyone as a Spider without them yearning for who lied beyond the mask, admiration be damned. You couldn’t get close to anyone as yourself, breaking bonds to protect what remained of your connection, losing everything in the end.

And isolation persisted once more.

You mustered all your strength to push against him, the officer stumbling a good few paces backwards before looking to you in astonishment, rejection. "Spider, I didn't mean..."

"Do yourself a favor and keep your hands off 'em." Hobie stood beside you, arm latching around your neck as he rested his weight against you, free hand pointing to the officer. "They ain't interested, man. Take a hint."

"Oh, you misunderstand!” He shook his hands in front of his face, “I'm merely an admirer, a bystand—“

Miguel seemed to manifest from nothing, towering over Hunter, hands to his hips, deviously smirking beneath the mask "Admiration can be done from afar."

Hunter took the hint, hobbling away, leaving you without so much as a wave of his hand. You breath stilled, hand pressed to your chest as you registered what had just occurred. "Thanks for the assist, Hobie. Really saved my a—"

Miguel interrupted you, "Language."

"Ass."

Miguel clicked his tongue, departing from the both of you, continuing his surveillance of the nearby area. There had to be something you were missing, something Layla had failed to debrief, and he would sooner keel over in a heap of webs than admit defeat — admit the anomaly had breached the confines of your universe.

"I wasn't the one to suggest assistance. Quite frankly, I wanted to see how it'd play out." Hobie had his hands in his pockets, walking at your side as the both of you scanned for something, anything.

You were perplexed, looking up at him as though he were speaking a foreign language, grown a second head. "Then who—"

"Who’d ya think?

taglist: @coralineyouareinterribledanger (never done a taglist before so lmk if u wanna be added) :)

[radioactiveradley]

Can you tell us anything about how CT can be used to find small foreign bodies that may not have a density massively dissimilar from the body they're lodged in? The specific example in this case: Dog is going for a CT to look for a potential cat claw tip lodged in the face that is causing repeated abscesses.

Oooh! That's an interesting one.

TL;DR: there will probably be goo around the claw. We can see goo. If there is no goo and the claw is lodged in soft tissue, the amount of radiation attenuated by the claw and the soft tissue will be distinct enough for us to see. If the claw is lodged in bone and has a similar density, we will still be able to see it, but we will have to modulate the way we read the images, which will cause no extra dose to your poor doggo!

First off, we'll look for any anomalies in the surrounding tissue. Soft tissue might fully envelop a foreign object, but we still expect to see some sort of reaction - i.e., a granuloma, which can either absorb some organic foreign bodies (very freaky! very cool! you can 'eat' splinters that get stuck under your skin!) or encyst them in a capsule-like shield to cut them off from the rest of the body.

All my pictures are gonna be of humans because I know 0 about doggy CT... sorry...

Image courtesy of radiopedia

So, in the above pic, the arrows point to a surgical clip that went walkabout in the body, and wound up encapsulated! How cool is that!

But generally speaking... If the claw is lodged in soft tissue, it will be easy to spot.

The way CT works is, we see how much radiation can penetrate through each separate point within the person/pooch who's lying in the scanner's central bore. These different penetration levels are mapped onto a scale to describe radiodensity, known as the Hounsfield scale, with '0' being water, '-1000' being air, and '+1000' typically being bone.

The gathered values are then composited using greyscale (and. a very funky process that I do NOT have time to get into here but ask me about sinogram tomography later) to create images across three dimensions, with fluid being middling grey (depending on its content), air being black, and bone being white.

So, the claw will show up clearly as a different density to soft tissue, especially if it's surrounded by oedema. It should appear significantly brighter (attenuates more radiation) while the oedema will be darker (attenuates less radiation).

However, if the claw is lodged in bone and there happens to be minimal oedema and no telltale damage to the periosteum (the membranous sheathe around the bone) ... we would have to use a funky technique called windowing!

Image courtesy of radiopedia

Here's an example of windowing, using a human head. As you can see, the 'bone window' completely blocks out all soft tissue detail in the brain, but shows a lot more detail - i.e., trabecular patterns and mastoid cells! - within the bone.

Basically, there can be almost infinite Hounsfield units, depending on what you want to look at (if you're looking at, like, titanium, we'll be talking a RIDICULOUSLY HIGH Hounsfield number!) But the human eye can only see approximately

Image courtesy of a basic bitch google search

This is where windowing comes in! We can choose a certain point within the Hounsfield scale at which to generate a new image, focusing on one particular type of material. This is what makes CT so versatile!

If the claw is a subtly different density to the bone, it may not show up on a regular CT image. But by using a 'bony window' that selects a span of Hounsfield units to look at, right up towards the +1000 end of the scale, we can focus on the bone in far more detail, cutting out all extraneous soft tissue. This should give us a good idea of what's going on!

As a fun extra fact - windowing will not up the radiation dose to your poor pooch in any way. In CT, all we need to do is take a single 'picture', which compiles all the radiodensity info about our patient (be they bipedal or otherwise). We can then play around in 'post-production', so to speak, to our heart's content, producing different variations on the same image using windowing! Very nifty trick. :)

I hope that somewhere amidst my extensive rambling, I answered your question! And I hope that doggo gets better soon!

[justatalkingface]

The 'Great' MHA Read Along, Part Two (Chapters 5-7): The Aizawa-ing.

*checks last post, gets more than one like*

*blinks*

Huh. Well. OK then. Let's do another one, I guess.

And, literally the first panel? Bakugou. Wow, Bakugou is so great, so strong...

Bakugou scored zero rescue points. Zero. He was the only one, as far as we know, to get zero points and still pass... and that doesn't concern you at all? Considering most people didn't almost die like Izuku and Ochako, then the bar for 'rescue points' honestly must have been in the ground, like helping someone when they fell or something. And here, in UA, an elite school for Heroes, whose job is to save people, Bakugou scored zero rescue points. Like, I don't expect him to not get in over this, but it'd be nice if, instead of everyone fawning over him, from literally page one, someone could go, 'Hey, I don't like the looks of that'.

Then we transition to Izuku and All Might, and I guess that answers the question of, 'Why couldn't All Might help Izuku get in?': because he knew Izuku wouldn't want that.

I. I'm actually not sure of that? He wouldn't want attention, at least. But whatever, ultimately, the problem I have with that is All Might literally just dropped him in the exam with absolutely zero Quirk experience when, from all accounts, he could helped him get in somehow, Mr. Number One Hero, but....

Alright, bear with me a second. In theory, letting him earn his way is fine, but in practice, there's no fucking way Izuku should have passed if he didn't accidently crack the morality cheat for this exam, and it doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize this. At the same time, though, it's clear he doesn't deserve to be recommended student, yet, because again, he's a total noob, and I doubt he'd pass that exam, either, since it's just a giant race.

I think, ultimately, the problem here is Izuku is in a position where there's no reasonable way for him to pass, period. And I can't really blame anyone other than Hori, since, you know, author, and it goes back to what I said last time about he just set up Izuku to struggle for struggling's sake. And the thing is, he could still have had a hard time at at exam, but not have been so damn helpless about it; I mean, in all honesty the only reason Uraraka survived (as far as we can tell those robots are not safety proofed) is that he just so happened to have his Baby's First Quirk moment at that very moment, and since his Quirk is on the level of a fucking god he accidentallyed a robot that could step on a fucking Gundam. If it wasn't for protagonist level plot armor, in other words, Ochako should be dead, which... is a realization. Izuku has no way to fight the robots, or win the race, other then exploding himself, and this setup, for someone who is theoretically supported by the most powerful and influential man in the country, who is literally on the staff, doesn't really make sense. It'd be one thing if was literally nobody, but he's not: he's All Might's apprentice and heir. He is the exact opposite of nobody, but the story never really treats his situation like that; it be easy enough for them to swing it as him being Heroic royalty if All Might and Izuku were more pretentious (you could debate about the destabilizing effect of that, but all things considered All Might retiring and/or having an heir before everything went to shit actually could have been helpful, even if it made Izuku's life infinitely more complicated).

I just don't like that whole situation, basiclly, both with Izuku's capabilities and how hands off All Might suddenly is when he was helping him train daily literally to the actual day of the exam.

And then All Might admits he saw the problem of Izuku's control coming and did... nothing about that. Is. Is the reason All Might is inside OFA because it took his entire personality on the way out? A few chapters ago he was worried about Izuku exercising too hard, and now he's all, 'It's fine', with this apocalyptically powerful Quirk? And, now that it's established that there is a problem with his control, why isn't he trying to help with that problem? Like... at all?

See, this is what I was talking about last time: Arc One All Might is this committed, focused trainer who is expertly pushing Izuku's body just a hair from his absolutely limits on the daily and devotes large portions of his time to helping him improve. Arc Two All Might is just letting him blow up his arms for no apparent reason, while barely ever having time for the child with the legacy of his teacher and like, the primeval spirit of heroics inside him.

And, to top it off, there's the knowledge that he's never going to recover from this change; it only get worse from this point on.

Good bye, Competent Might. I'll miss you.

...And, here's Bakugou. And, with peerless Bakugou Logic (TM), even though he's in the best heroic school period, he's still treating his classmates as extras. Literally.

Pause here; random tangent time.

You know, early Bakugou's story has the shape of a 'big fish in a little pond' story, but have you realized his Quirk is perfect for that as well?

So, the thing is Explosion is a good Quirk, but it's just that: good. It's better than... seventy, eighty percent of Quirks we see, than most of his classmates. Then there's presumably another ten percent of equal Quirks, somewhere....

And then that last ten percent make Explosion look like kid shit. It's hard to remember with how chronically underused it is, but Momo's Quirk is terrifying with some work. I would bet that there's a chemical that neutralizes nitro she could pull out, which would neatly defang Bakugou, for example. Or, a blast of water, to get rid of his sweat, so there's nothing for him to blow up. Or, his actual, canon weakness, cold; fire extinguishers, anyone?

And that's not even mentioning Shoto. And this isn't later story Shoto, who is a side character in his own story, oh no, this is Earlyroki, who can solo the entire class with minimal effort on his part (except Izuku, but that's the starting point of their relationship, Shoto acknowledge him as a potential threat). This is Shoto before the nerfs rolled in.

The set up for the 'small pond' shit is honestly perfect, but Hori just never commits to it. Worse yet, to get around the limits he put in on Bakugou's Quirk, he just... starts breaking his own rules, all the way back with the Sports Festival (coming... at some point!), and it's super disappointing when you realize how great this could have been for realigning Bakugou's ego.

...Alright. Got off track there. Let's stop talking about Bakugou, and start talking about Iida! Iida who apologizes, and acknowledges Izuku! Iida who calls out Bakugou on his shit! Far more wholesome.

And then Uraraka shows up, and I'm pretty sure this is the end of his, 'OMG a girl I literally can't talk' phase, but again, nice to see someone acknowledge Izuku's existence and not hate him...

Ah, Bakugou flashback. I don't hate this, for once, because while it's Bakugou's flashback, it's about Izuku, and his growth, and him standing up for himself, even a little bit. Self affirmation is always nice to see...

And there's a homeless man who broke in! How talented. Wait, that's not a homeless man, that's just an adult who doesn't give a shit about personal hygiene!

(If you're new here, welcome to my blog. As you may have realized, I am not an Aizawa stan.)

(And yes, Bakugou, you tell that ball to die. How dare it be round!)

Welcome, everyone to Eraserhead Land, a world where you don't need to know things like where the consoler is, because mental health for law enforcement personal armed with dangerous superpowers is for losers! Welcome ceremony? Feeling accomplishment about getting into a top school? Possibly learning important things when everyone is gathered in one place? Naaah. If you're not stressed, miserable, and on edge, you're not doing it right!

To those unfamiliar with my posts, you may think I'm joking. I'm not.

Literally, the whole, 'Last place gets expelled bit'? Is because the kids were excited. All Might confirms that, yes, Aizawa absolutely would have kicked someone out.

Dadzawa Fans: 'Ah yes, the "Aizawa Critical" theory. The idea that Dadzawa is false and that the man in question is in fact deeply flawed and acts in incredibly traumatizing and Quirkist ways that should have massive negative repercussions on everyone he has ever taught. We have dismissed this claim.'

Me, deadass watching Aizawa prepare to kick someone out of school because some kids were happy: *blinks in visible confusion*

...This is a man in deep need of therapy. Which probably explains his views on guidance counselors.

Oh, and then Izuku neatly sums up my problem with how his life goes, that can basiclly be applied at any given moment : "My (insert normal thing here) has turned into a huge ordeal!"

Anyways, time for a bunch of tests that, by design, Eraserhead could never pass. And of course, we can't go five minutes (or five seconds, sometimes), without yet another demonstration of how unreasonable Bakugou is, what with him blasting Izuku in the race, which is actual sabotage.

Aizawa... sees no problem with this, apparently. Give it a couple of years, and we'll see an enterprising class take that to its logical conclusion, and murder and/or maim one or more of their fellow classmates for the win!

And now we have a flashback where, surprisingly (? I'm not actually sure if that should be surprising at this point) All Might actually tried to advise Izuku... by basiclly telling him to dial it back, but otherwise to figure it out himself.

You.... You had this Quirk. This exact Quirk. Why is your advice so useless?

Then we have a single panel of the long jump where I half think Bakugou ended up sabotaging Izuku again; why are these kids doing all these at the same time, again?

And then it comes out: Aizawa had already singled out Izuku, even before class, for him passing the exam at all, which didn't 'make sense'.

(With how the exam was set up, Izuku could have passed with minimal stress on his part if he just helped people instead of trying to deal with the robots all. Unironically, I don't think you actually need to interact with the robots at all, in the exam about fighting the robots. This is, as far as I can tell, a valid strategy, and it's not Izuku's fault that it rewards people for helping, bloody fuck.)

I'd bet this entire thing was just because of Izuku, so he could bump him out with minimal justification on his part. He flat out says he doesn't like All Might (an 'insufferable' hero) and compares Izuku to him directly. Like, god this is so damn targeted, and we have All Might watching, internally monologuing about how Eraserhead hates him and he's helpless to protect Izuku...

...Some the fuck how. The Number One Hero is helpless to protect his heir from a clearly biased attempt to get rid of him, when the principal is in the know about important he is. And he seems remarkably fine with his student's seemingly impediment expulsion.

'I can't help him! I'm just going to stand here watching from behind a corner instead of making sure Nezu knows how ABSOLUTELY LIVID I'll be if he gets expelled, or preparing to leverage my immense fame and influence to help, or maybe threatening Eraserhead if he takes his dislike of me out on an innocent student! Nope, no way I can contribute here, oh well, sorry for being such a waste of space Izuku, you're on your own.'

...What the fuck is this? This doesn't make sense! I bought into the narrative of this the first time I read it but now that I've stopped to think about it for five seconds this entire arc is collapsing in on itself.

Why did you make Izuku's mentor the most powerful person on the planet, with the ability to command legions of devoted fans, who single handedly changed how an entire country looks at heroes, if you were going to make him so fucking helpless?!

And then, the cherry on top of all of this is Izuku 'grows' by only breaking his finger, and this fills Aizawa with apparent delight.

Bloody hell. Here, let me summarize my impression of Aizawa after reading this arc again:

"The longer Eraserhead is observed, the more terrible a teacher he becomes."

And now we reach the next chapter, where Bakugou promptly attacks Izuku for the crime of having a Quirk, and Aizawa stops him before... whining. About dry eye.

Mr. "I expel entire classes" yet again sees no problem with students fighting each other, apparently, which is more evidence for my Bloody Mist style Class 1-A theory; we already have discount Kakashi, whose entire character is basiclly badly copied copy ninja characterization, so we might as well get young!Zabuza or something as well.

Oh, I almost forgot Aizawa's first lesson to his students: you can never trust anything I say, ever, because I can, and will, lie to you, for no reason at all, at any moment at all, even when what you think are real-life consequences are on the line, and if you fall for it that's your mistake for falling for a 'logical ruse'.

Talk about a trust building exercise, huh? Clearly, this is Best Father Figure.

Meanwhile, can I mention how nonsensical All Might teaching when he has a time limit is? Why the hell is he wasting his waning moments of power, which could be used for so many more important things than standing there while the students gawk at him? Teach as Skele-Might, or watch the security cameras or something.

...Huh. My translation doesn't have 'Dekiru' in it, even though we had Ochaka accidently call Izuku Deku. Was that later or did whoever did this just not put it in...?

Welp. This was immensely frustrating. Good thing the next arc isn't going to have anything at all concerning, SOD breaking, or horrible in it, right?

[atsoraasayoma]

Is Homeostasis the True Villain? Or is she a grand architect in the battle for balance versus chaos?

Don’t let adventure influenced/partially possessed Hikari’s kind demeanor fool you. She is a powerhouse giving Digimon the intense power to surpass limits and digivolve such as wargreymon slicing up Machinedramon like an onion.

She is strangely absent in Zero Two but Gennai and the Digimon Sovereign act as agents in her stead. It seems the goal is, at the time for evil to be eradicated by the wishes of children and their power/energy for their Digimon to digivolve.

Sounds innocent enough, right?

Fast forward to Digimon Tri where she body snatches Himekawa messing her up in the process as she gives the order to sacrifice her partner.

Then to Hikari being possessed and controlled as well. (This is why you don’t answer unknown calls people).

When this happens all kind benevolent pretext is over. If you fail your part she will intervene. Whether reboot of the Digital World or the real one. Any threats to the Digital World must be contained.

She even taunts the Digidestined telling them that their teamwork has failed them this time. Perhaps she treats them coldly because they are no longer little kids with infinite potential but teenagers whose powers are there but limited. How limited?

Fast Forward to Kizuna. We learn from Gennai a Digidestined has an expiration date as a chosen child unless they can unlock new potential. Menoa is the personification of that Despair but Homeostasis does NOT intervene.

Why? Strange as it is I think she was going to use the data of the brainwashed kids to recreate Digimon and human partners without an expiration date. She recognized Menoa’s despair and allowed her the light of Digivolution from this newly synthetic Digimon with data based off her partner to take authority and fulfill her desire. And IF she succeeded Homeistasis would reap the results.

But, this failed. She lost the Digidestined that had done the most for her and those Digidestined were no longer necessary having expired.

So now where does she go from here? How can SHE protect the Digital World when all of her efforts only are leading to more work?

It’s simple and brilliant if not disturbing. Like many have said she used the suffering of Rui as a blueprint for Digidestined partners. This relationship would be a litmus test on just how far the power of wishing could save the Digital World.

We’ve seen it in 02 the final battle with MaloMyotismon and the epilogue. Everyone gets a Digimon (or at least a Digidestined’s powers to have a partner are hereditary even going as far as the TYPE of partner a Digidestined will have).

But I believe much like the reboot option this Ukkomon partnership is a failsafe. She studies and manipulates Rui’s situation of utter despair and loneliness. And this is before she uses the Original Digidestined. It’s a nuclear option for her in case she needs to use it.

The friends Ukkomon creates as justification for the Digidestined line are self fulfilling prophecies, creating problems, fixing them, and then the influence of those involved directly or indirectly with the conflict of those problems spawning new Chosen Children but not Digidestined.

These new Chosen Children are basic as we have never seen them go beyond the champion level. They are not of the particular kind of what qualifies as a Digidestined for they were not guided to solve conflicts directly. Merely indirectly chosen children would be used for their power of wishing and sheer numbers to defend the Digital World against threats.

But, years went by with little to no conflict. Aside from Menoa in Kizuna there was no ‘new’ threat although Chosen Children were increasing every year. Through their efforts Homeostasis indirectly through Ukkomon’s power of granting Rui’s wish activated that fail safe.

Everyone was supposed to get a partner. If everyone has a partner this would ensure there would be no running out of tools/chosen children to defend the Digital World. When they would die of old age the next Chosen Child would replace them.

That was the plan. That was Homeostasis’s goal. It was the harmony and the balance needed to stave off the continual threats to the Digital World.

But, that plan, that fail safe did NOT go through. The 02 Digidestined stopped her machinations. They foiled her grand design for perpetual protection.

And so, between now and the epilogue I believe she is in desperation mode. Why? Lurking in the background between Digital World narratives and the Digidestined I believe there is a threat unlike any other that DEMANDS every single human being to have a partner to stave off the viral Digital Threat.

If it’s so powerful Homeostasis actively manipulates generations JUST to get to this point I believe it is so severe sheer numbers will be needed or the power of their wishes.

Much like we saw with the birth of Omegamon the combined power of not just humans, but Chosen Children is necessary to defeat a foe so mighty it is the most powerful viral Digimon to ever exist. I would go so far to say it may be the SOURCE of all the viral Digimon much like how Apocalymon was the source of the original adventure antagonists.

In other words, with the Digidestined having completely shut down her last effort to save the Digital World she is going to have to no choice but rely on the 02 Digidestined.

The OGs are out except in a support role. The 02 Digidestined, specifically Takeru and Hikari will be greatly needed in order to unlock a savior Digimon to stop the ultimate threat.

Remember. all of the Digidestined except for Takeru and Hikari don’t have the full power of a crest. ONLY they do. Ken is questionable ? He never used it to Digivolve. The others have/had Digi eggs that used the passed on influences of the crests but not the crests directly themselves. Homeostasis will convince them somehow to unlock an ultimate power to eliminate the viral threat once and for all so both worlds will be in peace so the utopia Hikari imagined and Homeostasis strives for will be achieved.

I don’t know what this threat is but it will be life threatening on a genocidal scale.

It will involve the whole world and there are only a few Digidestined left (and thousands of foot soldiers) that can stand up to it.

It will be a grand climax felt through generations. It will somehow restore the OG Digidestined partnerships and lead us to an epilogue that may take on a more defined conclusion.

All of these events in the anime and the movies are pivot points linking to this one final threat where the fate of humanity and Digimon will be decided.

Let’s hope the 02 Digidestined are up for the challenge.

Because, after all their teamwork has never failed them. Their bond with their Digimon is as strong as ever. They are the unwritten exception to the rule and have more to give, and bonds that regardless of life’s circumstances will NEVER expire.

They are the 02 Crew. THEY are the Digidestined Homeostasis will have to go all in on. And THEY and their Digimon will be the catalysts to decide the fate of both worlds.

[astridthevalkyrie]

chand ko chakor dekhe, tujkho naseebo wala (the bird looks at the moon, a lucky one looks at you) | hawks x reader | chapter 5

“You’ve died twice? From clocks? “I know you’re not blind to the rocks and debris flying literally everywhere! The world would be better off without you in it!” you scream at the villain. The machine is even louder as it breaks and jams into the ground. “Flying building pieces or something, I don’t know—one hit me yesterday. The first day I got knocked into a wall, and then I woke up hugging my body pillow. Same thing the next day. And the next, and the next. Did my number three pro hero partner save me? No, he let me get stuck in a fucking time loop!” Or, you’ll do a lot of things with infinite time on your hands, but falling in love with Keigo Takami isn’t one of them.

a/n: hey

warnings: hawks being an endeavor fanboy, fourth wall breakage sorta, shorter chapter because i’m lazy, death but at this point you know that, implied daddy kink, invasive thoughts make reader lick just a taste of her own blood

1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Burning alive is, without a doubt, the most painful way to die.

—————————————————

“Do you have to kill Endeavor?” Hawks whines.

“Why the fuck would I skip him?” You roll your eyes as far as your eyes can roll (how much roll can an eyeroll roll if an eyeroll could roll eye aaaand now neither of them sound like real words). “Besides, he has a bad attitude. He needs to be knocked down a peg or two.”

Besides, as far as he knows, you’re not skipping anyone. No, you’re not going to tell Hawks that you haven’t actually killed him, because you’re not about to admit that shit publicly to anyone, least of all the spared victim himself. It’s not like you’re taking a break day! The second you’d decided to spare birdbrain, you’d immediately started drafting up plans to take down the number two. And yes, by drafting up plans, you mean seeing how many cheese puffs you can stuff into your mouth while thinking about whether or not it was a viable option to just rip that dumb fucking fire mustache from his face and then put him in the ground while he writhes in embarrassment. 

“Think you’re just mad he beat you so quick.” He slouches in his seat, crossing his arms like the child he is. You wrinkle your nose. Fanboy Hawks is, without a doubt, your least favorite version. There’s a few different Hawks, you’ve learned both during this nightmare and before it. There’s Hero Hawks, focused, careful, incredibly precise and incredibly dangerous, who can take anyone out in a matter of seconds. He’s not to be confused with Celebrity Hawks, who is a dumb bitch. 

Then there’s Foodie Hawks notasgoatedasChefHawks (seriously. when the man wants to cook he COOKS), Twenty-Two Year Old Hawks who does flips off buildings or whatever the fuck, Good Friend™ Hawks who likes karaoke and fried chicken and dancing terribly, Regrettably Sexy Hawks with his pornworthy voice and slutty muscles, and you’re sure somewhere in there is Real Hawks, whose name probably isn’t even Hawks, but that’s a mystery you don’t care about enough to uncover. 

And Fanboy Hawks. A pain in the ass.

“I’m not mad,” you correct, not gently, “I’m determined to make him experience every single level of hell he made me feel. Seriously, how is it legal for him to use his quirk? Firepower is destructive, and heroes don’t kill.”

Hawks gives you the most unimpressed look you’ve ever seen on him.

“Heroes that think the dead bodies will actually stay dead don’t kill. Shitbrain.”

“You never know,” he hums, wiggling his eyebrows at you. What the fuck is up with those brows? Why do they split off at the ends like that—OHHHH, LIKE WINGS. That makes sense. But it doesn’t really. Like, the man’s a bird, that doesn’t mean each individual body part is a bird, does it? Maybe if you take his shirt off (youhaveseenhimshirtlessbeforesuckitbitches🤪) his stomach will like…kakaw kakaw at you? What the fuck. “Maybe one of these days you don’t reset, and you have the best hero of our generation’s blood on your hands while you rot away in a cell.”

“He’s not our generation’s anything, dickrider. And even if we were fugly with wrinkles, the best hero would be All Might.”

“Endeavor isn’t fugly!” Hawks cries. This is definitely deep rooted. Deeeeep rooted. Daddy issues. He practically screams daddy issues. And mommy issues. Issues in general, parental or otherwise. “He’s hot. Pun intended. And All Might is so…” Both his arms go up high, as though he couldn’t just say the word ‘tall.’ 

You beckon for him to go on. “Hot? Sexy? Fuckable?”

“Dad.”

“Daddy.”

“Ooh.” He grins. “Don’t say that, I might like it.”

You throw a french fry at him.

—————————————————

Endeavor’s hands are large. Large large. Super large. Ginormous, embiggen, elongate. You get the picture. (You, the reader, not you the self insert. But it’s you, you, who is talking to you. Nice to meet u, you, sincerely you. How’s that for fuckery).

Without breaking a single sweat, he’s able to grab you by the face and swing you halfway across the city, and even the wind can’t stop you with the force of his throw. You crash through glass, which breaks into your skin, because of COURSE it does, and you hit the ground of some office building with a scream. 

The most annoying part of dying constantly is that your body doesn’t become accustomed to the pain at all. When you wake up tomorrow, you won’t have any of the injuries you gain today, but you also have no resiliency and no change in your abilities. 

From this nice little comfortable spot (it’s not comfortable you can’t even be sarcastic about it that’s how uncomfortable it is), you can practically hear the jetpack flames or whatever Endeavor has on his feet come closer. You lie there, weakly kicking your feet as you bleed out like a pincushion, miserably enjoying your last few minutes before the restart.

An invasive thought makes you dip your finger in the pool under you, then push the digit past your lips.

GROSS.

Endeavor shows up, looks at you in abject disgust, aims, and sets you ablaze. 

—————————————————

And that’s how. The next year goes.

—————————————————

Maybe just a few months. Maybe a week. Who knows?

—————————————————

You’re tired, but you keep trying.

—————————————————

Sometimes you talk to Endeavor. He responds in mean words and dismissive grunts. Sometimes a rare word of acknowledgment. You get it on camera once to show Hawks later, but die before you get the chance and then your phone, y’know, doesn’t have it anymore, and for some reason Endeavor doesn’t do it again. Even though you ask the exact same way. 

—————————————————

Hawks doesn’t care. He finds you, shrieking and sobbing and clutching onto your pillow in your apartment, and pries it from you, holding your face in his hands asking you what’s wrong songbird and telling you i waited for you at patrol and you never showed and i got worried.

And you tell him, again. And you don’t show him how your foot is swollen from how you’d repeatedly banged it against the corner of your bed to force the tears out. It stays hidden under the sheets as he cradles you, thumbs away your tears and rubs two fingers against your neck that must unblock and activate a chakra because you suddenly feel free.

“Hawks,” you sniff, “do you wanna make me feel better?”

“‘Course,” he whispers, kissing the tip of your nose. “Say the word and it’s yours, songbird, what do you need?”

“How should I kill Endeavor?”

“What?”

—————————————————

“Hawks,” you sniff, “do you wanna make me feel better?”

“‘Course,” he whispers, kissing the tip of your nose. “Say the word and it’s yours, songbird, what do you need?”

“I’m bored. Entertain me. Tell me how you would fight the other pros.”

—————————————————

“‘Course,” he whispers, kissing the tip of your nose. “Say the word and it’s yours, songbird, what do you need?”

“I’m bored. Entertain me. Tell me how you would fight Endeavor.”

—————————————————

“I’m bored. Entertain me. Tell me how you would come out on top in a fight against Endeavor.”

—————————————————

“Say Endeavor fights you, how would you try to survive?”

—————————————————

“If you were to, hypothetically, fight Endeavor, is there any way you could come out on top?”

—————————————————

“Poor baby,” your partner coos, feathers running to and fro to get you water and another blanket. “Are you entertained now? Feeling better?”

He wipes the final tear from your cheek as you close your eyes, smiling sickly. 

—————————————————

It’s the same office building. Fate is funny like that, throwing you in through maybe the same window, but sparing you some this time around. It knows victory is with you, no matter how hard it will punish for this later.

You lay there again, knowing now that there’s no need to move. Hawks wouldn’t, so you don’t either. And isn’t it fantastic that Endeavor’s biggest fan should give you the means to murder him in cold blood? 

The fiery mustache man flies in through the window, and all you do is wiggle your fingers a little. Hurricane does the rest. You don’t call it out. It’s more surprising this way. 

The broken shards rise, and they spin around you. A tornado with you in the dead center. It spins, and spins, likeLeviinAttackOnTitanhe’ssohotbarkbarkbark until the room is filled, and you’re still lying there, dead center and damaged and battered, with little bits of Endeavor flying around you too.

—————————————————

For the first time ever, Hawks doesn’t laugh at your story. He reels back, hurt and disgusted, and you may as well have jammed a glass shard into yourself. “That’s sick, Nightingale,” he looks like he might vomit, “that’s fucking sick.”

—————————————————

Tracking All Might down is hard, but then you find him, um? on some beach? even though you’re pretty sure the man is a teacher now, and you float down in front of him.

He has the famous smile and everything, beaming at you. “Ah, Nightingale, is it? What brings you to the coastline, young one?”

You stare at him. For an awfully long time. Not once does his smile disappear. He looks every bit the symbol of peace he is. 

You’ve lost count of time. Endeavor could have taken a century, as far as you’re aware.

Fuck it.

With barely two motions, you bring your fists together then separate them, and his smile doesn’t even fall from his face when the air is sucked from his lungs, and he drops to the ground, gone.

“All Might?”

When you turn around, there’s some green-haired dork there, standing frozen in place, staring not at you but at the corpse behind. He’d had a box of…something, likely food, that’s slipped from his hands. It’s not the first time you’ve killed with a child present, but definitely not in such close range. You sigh, rolling your eyes in whatever mock pity you have left in you.

Then his arm starts to glow.

[the-almighty-gob-john-langley]

And WHO exactly is Sam Smith?

Opinions will no doubt be divided when it comes to answering that particular question, I'm sure, and not all favourable either. From my iconoclastic viewpoint, as ever, I would say he, yes, HE has mastered the ability to infinitely crawl up his own backside and out again more successfully than anything Houdini could have achieved as an escapologist.

Why? Because Sam Smith in reality is nothing more than an illusion. A manufactured figure who would be an absolute nothing if it wasn't for the spotlight of television and a pawn in that particular game that sucks up to HIS own vanity. You see, years ago in order to become a 'celebrity' you'd have had to work your way up from the bottom of the ladder, touring the clubs night after night, building your following, and then getting noticed if you were lucky enough and proved your talent. Even though that still didn't guarantee any promise of real success to superstar level.

If you've never heard of a rock band called 'Dumpy's Rusty Nuts' then count this as your introduction to them. Not that I'm in any way an expert fan or anything, I'm simply aware of their existence and the fact they've been around a very long time and are hugely, and I mean hugely successful. They've built their fanbase from sheer hard work, trudging up and down motorways to venue after venue, night after night, and relentlessly pursuing their passion for playing to audiences that range from hundreds into stadium numbers supporting much bigger artists, and can quite rightly qualify for the title 'legendary'.

Sam Smith, on the other hand, is nothing more than a manufactured puppet of an industry that views him as a mere product of its own making, and to be honest, I feel sorry for HIM as much as I do for those who have bought into HIS brand of egotistical bullshit. Like so many acts before HIM, he's become a creation who serves a purpose until such time as HIS bubble bursts and the next potential to extensively hype turns up. Like the majority before him though, he's so far up HIS own rear end with ego that he believes HE is something HE isn't, and somehow God's gift to a music industry that quite frankly couldn't give a damn as long as they're making money out of HIM while it lasts, and so, consequently the entire entertainment industry will mollycoddle him, blow constant smoke up HIS backside by sycophantly telling HIM how wonderful HE is because they know HE'LL buy into their grovelling, doff capping, yes sir, no sir, three bags full, sir, have whatever you want that makes you happy, further ego-inflating bullshit as everything about him screams ME, ME, look at ME, and how wonderful 'I' believe 'I' AM!

Just how people don't see through this bullshit amazes me. Have we really, honestly, and actually turned into a nation of such sheeple that we've come to the stage where we simply and readily buy into such bullshit with eyes wide closed?

How is it that we are so, so easily led as to not think that everyone in the background of this Sam Smith phenomenon isn't in it for what they can get out of it? The manager who takes a cut, the agent, the record label, the publicist, the costume designer, the make-up artist, the accountant, the tour manager, the personal assistant etc, etc - and all rubbing their hands from the smell of potential lucre as long as HE remains flavour of the month.

Now, I'm not against anyone earning an honest living, and neither am I suggesting there is anything dishonest within the Sam Smith circle of business interests, I simply find this entire sycophantic industry that relies on having to manufacture talent in order to sustain itself quite false and putrifying, and yes, while I concede to the fact that Dumpy's Rusty Nuts will also have their outgoings in terms of fees to management and an agent, and probably others along the way of their career they are more celebrity than Sam Smith can ever hope to be without the ego and publicity machine that has hyped HIM to faux-stardom, and in some circles at least, will live to achieve more in their forty plus year career than HE can ever hope for.

[blackjackkent]

OK, almost immediately after I made that last post, I ran into the waypoint in question, so we might be backing out sooner than I thought. Quick look around in this area of the temple, however:

Man, Hector really doesn't want to be here.

I think the gauntlet itself (the right-hand corridor in that image, I think?) is the actual point of no return, so we're probably okay as long as we don't wander down that way.

Heading off to the left instead, we get to this very dramatic-looking room.

I didn't actually realize there were people in this room until they started yelling at me while I was typing part of this post:

Oh hey it's the weird possessed skeleton triplets from that fight with the Sharrans. I guess, true to their name, they got reconstituted after they were vaporized by Gale's Wall of Fire because they ran straight into it.

Maybe this time we can get a better answer on who they are being controlled by.

"Hurry inside, or your racket is liable to--"

Just as before, just as we start talking to them, there's a tremendous earth-quaking shake through the whole area, and all the lamps are snuffed out.

Skele-boy is not happy about this.

"RANCID DONKEY SCROTUM! The quakes herald the shadows - it's already too late!"

Whoever is controlling these skeletons has Shakespearean-level insult game, but IDK why they're mad at us; so far these quakes have only happened, as far as I can tell, when we come near THEM, so I don't see how WE'RE the problem.

Anyway, the area immediately spawned a bunch more Sharran warriors in a wave of shadows out of the floor - and, quite disconcertingly, they appear to be empty armor shells.

Big creepy.

This fight primarily consisted of whack-a-moling a bunch of these "Umbral Tremors" which seem to be the potential spawn points for an infinite(?) number of these animated armors.

They weren't particularly difficult to destroy (Karlach in particular could one-shot a couple of them per turn) but the fact that more of them spawned every round made it a little hectic.

None of the reconstituted skeletons survived the fight. However, when all the Sharrans were dead, a heavy door at the far side of the room opened and revealed...this:

Hello????

Hector just kind of stared at it for a moment.

Giant Thing here is hanging out in a room with several other people - a few undead ghouls, and...Balthazar!

Eyyy, we finally found him. Heard a lot about you, my guy. Time to maybe find out what your deal is.

[tarotwithdanise]

Hello there!! Thank you so very much for opening this wonderful fs game, I truly appreciate this opportunity given from you <3 🌷.

One thing about my FS that I always get on many readings that I have so far : that my fs is someone who’s an observer (not necessarily the talkative type), & the negative would be that he has commitment issues.

My initials : C.C

My rising sign : Scorpio rising

Password : the one thing I genuinely love about danise would be the fact that she puts such an infinite amount of dedication, effort, time, and energy into her readings, blog, and overall interactions with others. I’m not close to her but I could tell that she’s the kind of person to stay true to her words and would always be 100% honest no matter what towards others (as shown from her guidelines and posts), and that’s an asset I wholeheartedly admire. I also love how aesthetically pleasing her blog looks and gosh- it is NOT/NEVERRRR (º∀º)☝🏼 easy to have an idea of how you’d like your blog to look like, and the fact that there’s so many pretty additions to her master list, posts, and readings (the PAC’s photos omgjdjjendhdh), makes me fall for her blog even MOREEEE AHHH

HIII THANK YOU SOOO SOO MUCH for your time and energy, I wished I could show much more of my gratitude but I believe that my words alone aren’t enough to express them for you! So here’s some lovely 🌷 for someone lovely like you <3!! Have a wonderful day/evening/night wherever you are, and take care, alright? alright!! 👏🏼☺️

Hello there, thank you for participating @xiexieera.

How does C.C will recognize their future spouse?

cards : ten of hearts, bouquet, king of pentacles, "engagement", "forever young".

I see celebration like social gatherings etc. You will probably going to meet on occasions and gatherings. You will recognize them when you made an eye contact with this person, they have a happiness, joyful and sparking pair of eyes and even their smile it can make a person smile too. They might be in the career of photography, being a model, fashion designer or artist. They maybe have dark hair, charming and friendly looks. They typically good at work and can be someone who tend to overwork because they tend to provide everything for their family and partner. They tend to be successful individual. They will be great partner and parent in the future, someone who likes to provide and protect their own build family. Even though, they're mature and someone who is older than you they have a youthful heart and spirit. The love life with them will level up on a higher level of commitment, steady and faithful. The number 7 and 9 is important for you, for them or this connection - it can be the symbols before you meet, the dates, the months, both of your birthdate or your life path numbers.

Hope this make sense, Danise.

Important note : Make sure to leave a feedback as I mentioned on the rules of this game, you will be given a week after you received this reading. Leave feedback so you can join again to my next games, events and giveaways!

[tetsutits]

hi jay!! i've been so busy but i finally managed to read the first 7k words of violet rays and didn't want to make you wait who knows how long until i have time to read more.

you are insane for that 1st paragraph! what an insanely good opening. "They call it sonder - the realization that every passerby has a life as vivid and complex as your own." incredible start. incredible.

the packing scene is such an adorable way to characterize reader. what a relatable reader character but very charming too.

somehow i missed that this wasn't a best friend ran fic but a best friend's older brother ran fic, which is infinitely more up my alley. i was so hype when i realized. because yeah, big brother ran would have me in chokehold too.

i really love the way you are structuring your scenes. the quick transitions, the balance of dialogue and interiority. i especially love how you're establishing settings. i somehow get a little lost when reading fic because of the lack of setting (which is understandable, i get authors wanting to get to the hot stuff!) but i love that you are giving us the full sensory details. my favorites so far:

"the inside of your cotton tank top sticks uncomfortably to your skin, the same way that the soft hairs at the back of your neck are sticking to each other." and "the world around you is blue and green." it's all of it tbh

i can already tell this is going to be my favorite thing you've ever written!!!

aaa omg sorry for not responding sooner!! your ask has me so giddy :> my thoughts under the cut!

the first paragraph was actually written last in the fic 👀 im not very good at intro’s, honestly i tend to struggle w them a lot; so i slapped that word in there and called it a day ahahakaksn

i actually LOVE the mc so much in this fic! i pat myself on the back because she’s so cute, and i wanted the readers to be able to relate with her on some level. i also put some of myself in her too hehe i really am writing my fantasies huh

it’s actually a theyre-both-my-best friends-but-i’m-in-love-with-the-older-one LMAO she is closer to Rin tho (and oh my god, i was trying so hard not to make him the main guy i’m so down bad he makes me SO weak) but i won’t say anymore about their dynamic in fear of spoiling it, because you’ll understand once you’ve read the whole thing!

i love that trope too!! i will admit i was falling for ran each day i was NOT immune to this pouty mess of a man! sorry ran, but rin will always remain number one in my heart!

i think it adds more spice tbh, it’s more interesting than the regular friends2lovers ✨✨

i can proudly say tho, that establishing a setting and describing surroundings is my strong point in writing, i really focus on that + characterization a lot. i worked hard on those, fun fact, i had to re write Ran’s first kitchen scene with the reader like THREE TIMES!!! bc i was like …. no .. he would not say that or act like that.. re write it. lmaoo my beta readers hate me HAHA

you are too nice to me!! thank you SO much for leaving your thoughts!!!! i was so happy when i received your ask :> you amaze me as a writer and so when i got this and realized you liked my fic i had to sit on the floor for 5 minutes to collect my self LMAO

i’m excited to hear your thoughts on the other half! it definitely gets better as you read and Ran gets sexier of course take your time, and sorry it took me a while to respond i’m actually meant to be on a social media break rn lol, have a good day!!!💕

[dkptx]

Owning Media

I was lucky to come of age during the first golden age of internet piracy. Napster, LimeWire, OurTunes, these were great levelers. Yet they also encouraged the natural spontaneous arising of a hipster sensibility. If media doesn't cost money, then taste is of course the ultimate signifier. And the only limit.

What does it mean to own a digital file?

Well, it means that you control it. You keep a good copy. And you know where it is.

It means being an Archivist and an Information Architect. It means being a curator. It means labeling and naming files properly, so that they can be found.

It means getting rid of bad files.

There are levels to this game that I have not seen, and surely some of those are uploading. I have never done. Knowing how to rip. Knowing how to convert file types.

But above all that, it means becoming conscious of what media are important to you. This is harder than it sounds. You might have a collection of all the classics. They might be examined, or not. What it really entails is building an entire conceptual framework of what's worth keeping and why, with strict rejection criteria, because there are no natural limits to storage space anymore.

The prototypical form of owning information might be a curated and culled collection of screenshots, or obscure memes. Every kid has one but none of them owns it. Those are all on a server somewhere.

Digital information has little way to indicate importance the way physical things do. Or? Maybe not.

It's undiscoverable: you can't go browse a shelf. It has no system of provenance: you don't know where a file came from. It has no indication of use: how many times has this file been opened? If it's been copied, you can't tell.

With real things there is an infinite spectrum of "frequently used" to "back of the closet" where something can be put in a visible place, to remind you of it, to make it easily accessible. There are a few ways to do this with computer files, putting it on the desktop, "Recent Items," "Open Recent," but they have far, far less granularity and intuitiveness than simple spacial placement of objects. Consider how many orientations you can put a book down on your desk—cover up, cover down, spine in, spine out—to make it either announce itself to the room or hide itself and minimize visual complexity.

Efforts to try to make a flagging system "stars ranking in iTunes" flop, but "number of times played" can be pretty reliable. If you've stuck to one device. Which at this point, nobody does.

Subskills: -owning the classics -turning new finds into known, named, and find-able files -archiving and backing-up -preserving? converting? updating? -best practices?

This is a stub, because I don't know how to go about doing these things. This is mostly an attempt to recognize just how impoverished digital archives are, compared to physical ones, in terms of organization potential and discoverability.

[thepitofjob]

Job 3: 20-26. "The Absorber."

The Book of Job is clearly a Yeshiva Boy's guide to the Torah. The book opens stating man begins as a grievous goat and must undergo tests of the flesh and heart early in life if he is to attain to greater levels of Jewishness later. The promise, if he can do it, is called Shabbat. Certain candidates will not fail to recognize the Book of Job is the Prince's version of the Melachim, the Handbook to Jewish Royalty.

But first Shabbat. Shabbat is the moment all the habits learned in the shule become second nature and all the forbidden fruits there explained are allowed. The following section ends a dirge uttered by Job as he is told by God he has to enter the Shule and be tested by Satan. His friends show up and tell him to keep his love muscle in his pants and do what he is told. The following stanzas are the final bleating of his response.

The opening verse mentions bitterness which refers to our favorite conundrum about men- in order to be strong we think they must be bitter. Bitterness in Judaism is not the bitterness of dirty sweat socks but that of Myrrh, the sacred balsam of the religion. Myrrh begins as a sap, and is boiled down past the stage of the resin and the oil down to the balsam where the strange bittersweet essence of the plant is found. Distillation frees the perfume from the raw state. Man is said to undergo the same process as the myrrh in order to attain to the same level of bitterness.

The same word, bitter is associated with the shule because no one wants to do it. No one wants to resist tyrants or shovel mud when there is a flood, or deal with the end of impoverished conditions, but that is what men are supposed to do.

The term Job, "in a pit", in fact refers to the fact real men do not tolerate being relegated to pits, they seek the light of freedom and justice with all of their might if they sense they or others are being subjugated. So Job is bitter because he is undergoing translation of his experiences as a young man who is being caught between his desires and the expectations of society, and he just wants to grow up, leave home and be his own person. Everyone starts life in a pit feeling bitter:

20 “Why is light given to those in misery,     and life to the bitter of soul, 21 to those who long for death that does not come,     who search for it more than for hidden treasure, 22 who are filled with gladness     and rejoice when they reach the grave? 23 Why is life given to a man     whose way is hidden,     whom God has hedged in? 24 For sighing has become my daily food;     my groans pour out like water. 25 What I feared has come upon me;     what I dreaded has happened to me. 26 I have no peace, no quietness;     I have no rest, but only turmoil.”

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 20. Why is light given to those in misery? The Number is 4438, ח‎דדג‎ ‎ , haddag, "in the fishery." Boys begin life as fish, by learning how to school.

I have tried to change how the Torah and Tanakh are read so they do not just entail memorization of strange words, stories, and statutes in Hebrew. Within are the angel maths and through them one is led to the Supreme Light, Ha Shem. The journey is not bitter but splendid. The Book of Job says to dig in order to make it the most worthwhile:

v. 21. To those who long for death that does not come, who search for it more than for hidden treasure. I have not, by far, decrypted all the mysteries in the Torah and Tanakh, many remain. I know the path to Ha Shem and cannot forget it, but others who attempt to define the Tanakh as thoroughly as possible will not be disappointed.

The Number is 4839, דחגט‎, "You pushed."

Pushing refers to the extra bandwidth the human brain gets from incorporating the Alefbeis. Together, the letters create angel axons and angel awls and they enhance brain activity. Axons and Awls contain the secrets of the creation within their nearly infinite combinations.

There is more than a suggestion in the Torah that Jewish DNA is more responsive to the presence of the angels than others provided the mind has not hardened off and become Philistine like the Mormons who dull, doomed, and damned.

v. 22. Who are filled with gladness and rejoice when they reach the grave? The Number is 5648, הודח‎‎, "kicked out."

Apostates, persons who do not honor their Jewish DNA are forbidden from heaven and contact with the angels. Jews have been designated by God to rule the world. All Jews are expected to participate in the global government and reap the rewards. The way is not easy, which is why we say it begins in a pit.

v. 23. Why is life given to a man whose way is hidden, whom God has hedged in? We are not born with the capabilities conferred by the study of the Torah. Man can become intelligent without the Torah but he will not be successful. Complete success depends on the ability of man to be amicable and thoughtful when confronted by others instead of devious and competitive. We are still figuring this out.

If man is not pushed, he remains a warlike intolerant kind of primate that lives in comfortable surroundings and uses advanced technology but will not live long or be well.

The Number is 6183, סאףג‎‎, "the absorber."

Once the logic of the Alefbeis, a kind of dot matrix is absorbed by the mind, the rest follows without too much effort. The Torah itself requires a great deal of effort, it is a highly complex matrix we are still trying to figure out, but we know the 7 x 4 x 6 x 9 x 10 x 12 x 70 etc. structure amounts to civilized man.

If we start with the Alpha Particle, Efes, then add Efes Alef, "Zero Thousands", "Without learning, there is no hope."

This is a hint. If we progress to Efes Bayit, Infinity plus 2, "Zero Problems." But if we learn, our problems go away.

Efes Gimel = Afshagamel, "Camel, you I can requiet."

By "turning the knob" on the letter Efes, an angel axel that attaches to other letters, creating an axon is performed.

By this we know God has lots to tell us through Judaism and the Tanakh. But until we completely absorb the logic, mankind will not achieve all the potential for which he was made. The structure of the language, the math and all the axons and axels does explain why some really whacky stuff appears when it is turned into English, also why we must endeavor to thoroughly understand it.

The secret is within a more in depth understanding and theory surrounding the Ophanim, the central gear box of heaven, whom I call Blinky. The Ophanim, a kind of complex angel controls the formation and turning of all the axels and axons through its engineering of creation around Ha Shem, the Primary Particle.

Human brains, when fully enlivened resemble an Ophanim on a much smaller scale. But if we lack Moses, the water of the intellect, the outcome is not always good:

v. 24-26. For sighing has become my daily food;  my groans pour out like water. What I feared has come upon me;  what I dreaded has happened to me. I have no peace, no quietness I have no rest, but only turmoil.”

All religions emphasize repentance. The ability to be sorry is critical for the survival of mankind. If a man does not experience sorrow or regret, he will become a sociopath like Donald Trump and his friends and make decisions that do not make sense to an organized, orderly world.

So repentance and atonement are emphasized early in the Torah. God cannot work with a man who does not have the ability to recognize the feelings and needs of others, so the cultivation of empathy for others is the first step of the process of becoming a Jew as stated here.

The Number is 10907, י‎טאֶפֶסז‎ ‎ "will climb tapesz," = "in order to be appeased."

The angels will simply not allow a man who cannot experience compassion or empathy, no salvation or kingdom of heaven awaits him. But through a man who is first bitter and then sweet, God can do quite a lot in this realm and the next.

But all those others who spend their days mistreating others, making them suffer and making them angry, they shall not see the Bliss Realm and must be punished in this one as severely and painfully as possible for the good of the rest.

[laurarolla]

So I started Strike Suit Zero: Director's Cut finally (was doing some item cleanup in Elden Ring the last few days so I'm ready for the DLC at launch). I'm in an odd headspace about it, and I suppose I should start with talking about other space fighter sim/shooter games I've played and my feelings on the genre.

See, my first of these kind of games was a demo of the first stage of Colony Wars on PS1, which eventually led me to actually play the game itself sometime later. From the beginning, there was a sort of push and pull in regards to how these games play for me compared to how I want to play them. Space fighter games of this kind ask a lot of the player right from the word go, largely because of a limited degree of mercy provided for you doing something stupid early on. There's a progression to a lot of these games where you focus on dogfighting first, then graduate to defending a capital ship, then move on to taking down capital ships, all while learning the handling of your craft and optimizing your various weapon systems. In a game like this, control complexity is a crucial balancing act, and honestly, Colony Wars is the only one of these games I've played that felt like it nailed the sweet spot for me. Strike Suit Zero is close, to the point that literally swapping two buttons might fix my biggest control issue (thrusters should be A, transform should be R3). I haven't checked that option yet. The thing is that part of why Colony Wars worked as best I can tell is the lack of customization meant every stage needed to be crafted for the player's expected skill level and equipment loadout. Later games I've played such as Project Sylpheed: Arc of Deception and Strike Suit Zero have the ability to replay stages and unlock upgrades, meaning that your limited arsenal and ship capabilities feel like harder limits. Wanna try taking out the capital ships in the early stages? Too bad, you don't have the firepower, shoot incoming missiles and try to take out fighters instead. When you're done doing what we tell you the first time, you can come back with bigger guns and higher skill and do the stuff you want next time.

Maybe the honest reality is the Colony Wars broke my expectations. With only skill and luck to rely on, you had to learn the stages and figure out specific exploits if you wanted to, say, shut down a capital ship to protect your fleet more easily with a specific type of fighter, or you had to acknowledge that your equipment makes capital ship fighting entirely impossible so you need to focus on fighters while your allies deal with the big guns. Stages felt like puzzles you figured out through retries, and the game even allowed the story to keep moving forward if you failed in many cases, just with worse possible endings. Additionally, stages were far shorter and less intense in terms of enemy numbers and such. I guess my issue really is that I'm just not built for these kinds of games, despite genuinely loving the genre. I have something of an allergic reaction to the idea of crawling before walking, in a sense, and I want to feel like I earn the place of being a hero rather than feeling like I'm jammed into the role of The Ace Pilot Protagonist most of the time. We'll see how this eventually plays out, but there's a decent chance that I just won't end up vibing with SSZ by the end of it.

Fun bit of trivia: Call of Duty Infinite Warfare? Perfectly scratches the space shooter itch in bite size chunks. Very surprising to think about all these years later.

[electricbluebutterflies]

“want you for worse or for better” for the prompts

Late-era Jessica/Leto, PG-ish, also on ao3.

She’s beautiful. Skies, she’s beautiful.

There is a different kind of appreciation in their movements, so many years on. He could do all of this with his eyes closed except perhaps some of the closures on her dress; she often does, and he has learned not to worry when she makes that choice. They are deeply familiar to each other, and yet-

There has been no one else since he met her, he reminds himself, and there will be no one else as long as they both live.

Her eyes are open right now and sparkling with… he can count on one hand the number of times he’s thought to describe her as playful, and this is not quite that, but something…

Their good moments have become few and far between, and he knows it’s his fault, but at least they haven’t lost what they are. Intimacies still happen, just… tired, more often than not, in the quiet of night when he needs her and can’t be bothered to think too much about it. Or in the aftermath of their petty fights, something about raised voices that leads to her putting her mouth on his, perhaps a survival mechanism gone wrong but he could never deny her, and-

Good moments, with adequate time and mood and some level of planning to it, have become something more…

He knows, he always knows that most of the blame is on him. Damned if he knows how to be a decent partner, and it would help if she’d say things about that instead of her passive-aggressive tendencies mixed with how easily she forgives and oh he’s overlooked mistakes for months before figuring out what exactly he’d gone and done to make her cold and-

“Usually you accuse me of disconnecting, but…”

Her hands on his shoulders, jacket collar, not pushing this, almost never taking the next steps, always-

She’d allow anything, he thinks. She’d said as much, many years ago, some early encounter that had gone just slightly wrong and… she’d expected less, he remembers that part, expected worse, expected-

“You are…”

Skies, he does not deserve her. That at least is a normal enough thought, usually but not always affectionate, sometimes more like what did she forget to tell him this time but usually…

“Did I misread this, my love?”

No, he thinks, no, that would be impossible. He wants her, more than anything, always, he is just-

“Why do you… still allow-“

He loves the fierceness of her, how much she can say with just a slight tilt of her head and the sharpness of her eyes. She is close enough that he could give up on conversation and kiss her instead, and for that he’d probably get her teeth in his skin and-

“Is there any reason I should not?”

Oh, where to start. He can’t recall any significant communication failures in the past month or so, which means there’s definitely something he doesn’t remember, and he does think she gets offended too easily but it’s not like she does anything about it like a normal person and-

They are imperfect. They are infinite. On a good day it all works, but their good days are…

“You do forgive too easily,” he says after what feels like slightly too much silence, not quite looking at her, not quite-

“As do you. Unless there is something I do not know, your actions more rarely…”

No, he’d say if he wanted a fight, no, he does not do anything in shadows as she does. He stopped questioning that so long ago, confident that she always moves to protect their family, enough results and he can believe her, enough results-

“You make your loyalty clear. Some days I feel…”

“Yours is more than clear enough.”

He will accept this strength, at least, even as he questions it. There has been no one else since her; there have barely been fleeting thoughts of anyone else since her. Perhaps her sharpness has something to do with that, vivid daydreams of what she might do if he were to entwine with someone else – he’d fear for his own life in that situation, and it would be entirely justified – but there is also something…

Someday, he thinks, someday he’ll marry her. Someday he’ll slip a delicate ring on her hand – something small and new to suit her preferences – and maybe that will be enough. Another ten years, perhaps, a clear ending, and then-

“You do-“

“What have you done that I do not know?”

Nothing, he thinks, nothing that needs to be discussed, nothing against her. It has been more the lack of action, the decisions that ought to be made and won’t be and-

“Nothing directly against you, my storm.”

“As I thought.”

She shifts her body forward and takes a heartbeat of a kiss, and there is something bittersweet in the taste of her, something like she has accepted this life she lives and-

They are bound to each other. All these years of mostly-unspoken commitment, a child they both love more than anything else, a shared life, and still-

“I want you,” she breathes. “You have been good to me. Made space and kept your hands light, and I have asked for so little and-“

Yes, and her low expectations are frequently the damn problem, and-

“You deserve more.”

“Perhaps. But I know you better.”

He’ll have to figure out what he did to bother her sooner or later, before it turns into more than it already is, but-

For now there is the warmth of her, this woman he adores, and time enough to undo her and be undone, and everything else can wait.

[jeremy-ken-anderson]

City of Heroes Not-Quite-Beginners Guide

There's a first layer of knowledge like "what's an enhancement" (It's basically equipment) and "how do I level up once I've got the xp" (talk to trainers) but watching a CoH Beginner's Guide I found there were a few things I wished he'd say:

Getting a Task Force Together: If you go into LFG under the Task Force tab you can mouseover the names of lit-up task forces and it'll show you the level range for the run. It also tells you who the character is that directs it. Then go into LFG Chat (find it with the mouseover popups by the chat bar) and type "LFM for [name of director], level [minimum level you read when mousing over the description]+ pst for invite." So for Positron 2 it'd be "LFM for Posi 2, level 11+ pst for invite." The main task forces are

Positron 1 and 2 in Steel Canyon

Synapse in Skyway City

Penelope Yin in Independence Port

Citadel in Talos Island

Manticore in Brickstown

Numina in Founder's Falls

While they don't show up on the minimap they're all within immediate view of the level trainer, who does.

When people reply that they're willing to come along, you click their name in the chat window and select Invite to Team from the popup.

Personally my netiquette is that I'm willing to repeat the posting in LFG once the number of party members has changed. Once I have someone I repost "LF6M..." for instance (team size for Task Forces is 8). It's also good for both courtesy and self-preservation to announce when the group's full. Otherwise you'll keep getting tells from people who want to join.

Archetype Origin: One of the largest jumps in power you'll receive is from set bonuses on matching enhancements. As you do plot-relevant content (storylines and task forces, mostly, but also battles against giant monsters) you'll receive Merits. These can be spent at Merit Vendors to get special enhancements that, as far as I know, can ONLY be obtained this way. Go into the list under your own Archetype (so, Defender if you're a Defender) and there will be two sets you can get, for a total of 12 enhancements. Each costs 100 merits, and the first stories that give merits are worth 3, so you won't be getting these immediately. But you can get your first by around level 20 if you're story-focused. And they're extremely powerful; sometimes enabling a whole different playstyle, such as effects that immediately recharge your buffs or drop you into stealth mid-combat.

Set Bonuses: It's also worth noting that set bonuses - on both AOs and Inventions (IOs) - are really strong. For instance you might get one where for having just 2 enhancements from the same set you get +7% accuracy on all attacks. Add a third and you get resistance to all crowd-control effects (like stun or hold). A fourth and you also recover energy more quickly. These don't stack infinitely, but they do stack a LOT. One drawback is they have to be on a single power. If you put the six pieces of an enhancement set like Scirocco's Dervish on different powers they're good enhancements, but you'll be missing out on the five Set Bonuses you get from having all of them. Personally I think this was a mistake, design-wise, but it is what it is.

Your First Invention: As soon as you go to Steel Canyon - maybe you're level 8 and you're joining in on Positron's first Task Force - there's a quest about inventions at the university. Doing this nets you a free IO, which is strong and which, while it can be outshone by later enhancements and need to be replaced for that reason, never stops giving its bonus due to your level. Where a level 20 Single-Origin Enhancement has no effect for a hero level 24 or higher, a level 20 Invention still provides its full value even to a level 50 player.

Ouroboros: You might be lucky enough to be near someone who drops a golden portal with an infinity serpent icon under it. If you click this it'll take you to Ouroboros, a pocket dimension outside of conventional time. This is important for lategame content and also a useful way to traverse the city, since entering Ouroboros grants you the ability to summon your own Ouroboros Portal once every 5 minutes and it has exits to several different areas of the city. If you're not lucky enough to have access to Ouroboros handed to you, Montague Castanella (also in the Steel Canyon University) has a quest chain that ends with your induction into the Midnighter Society. Once you're in, poke around the grounds until you find a crystal you can click on. It'll transport you to Cimerora, which is probably WAY beyond your current level, but going there means you're a time-traveler and grants you the Ouroboros Portal power if you didn't have it yet.

Ouroboros also has an area where you can simply select a storyline mission and run it - leveling down if necessary - so if you ran a few radio missions with friends and leveled out of a cool bit of lore you can still see it. This is also a good way to get Merits.

Team Transport: For 10 million inf you can get a power from the Pay-2-Win Vendor that summons a jet. This opens a popup for anyone in your party who stands close to it, for about the next 30 seconds, asking if they want to be transported to the entrance of the current mission. If you're in Skyway City and the next mission of your Task Force is in Boomtown, this can save your party about 5 minutes of just getting to the zone and traversing it to the mission door. If you're not spending a ton of money you can probably get this somewhere around level 20-25. If you're in a Task Force and someone in your team says "TT" in chat, don't go toward the subway station or the next mission: Go toward whoever said that! They're announcing that they're summoning the jet, so that a) people don't disperse and b) nobody else summons a TT at the same time, functionally wasting it. Once you've bought one your character has the power forever, but it does have a long cooldown (30 minutes).