#as in I have no idea how the game would resolve in this projected scenario

[ageofzero]

Yuna is the antagonist of a potential Final Fantasy X-3, thank you for coming to my TED Talk

edit: okay I'll put it under a read more since it'll be a long post (but not as long as my entire conversation was), but what's promised is due.

Now that I have to make the post for real I had to do some wiki reading on what the actual Things going on in the novella were, and… well, a lot of my theorycrafting was based on incomplete and kinda inaccurate information. BUT I can’t read Japanese, the book was never released here, and I am going to go with rule of cool for a little bit of this even as I keep the stuff that sounds kinda dumb on the surface. I’ll be the first to say that Tidus exploding from a bomb he thinks is a blitzball is dumb (true), and Chuami thinking she’s Auron’s daughter is a dumb plot beat (petty), but I’m weaving this bridge and I’m not going to rewrite those. I am going to change some contexts and make them exist in a narrative that I hope is compelling. That’s my disclaimer, now I’m gonna get into it.

SO.

The scenario from the novella and audio drama is thus: Tidus died again in an accident, and Yuna brings him back. But he’s not back in the same way that the Fayth gave this dream a real living body at the end of X-2. The official term for it is “beckoned”, but I probably won’t use that to describe him based on my previous understanding. No matter if he’s beckoned or not, or whatever terminology you want to use, the thing is that Yuna summoned him back. She’s holding him to life, and he can never know. It’s been a year since the moment Tidus died, and Yuna has seemingly regressed into patterns that put her into what was once Yevon’s circle. Tidus is looking injured/weakened (“Chuami: It wasn’t just [Tidus’s] words that felt hollow. When I shook his hand, his grip felt weak and lifeless... I think he’s injured. Or maybe he’s sick or something.”), and people are looking to Yuna for help or information regarding the strange not-quite Unsent (the beckoned) that are appearing in places in Spira. Help she is not capable of giving. Wakka and Lulu are protecting her as she prays in Besaid Temple. The world is seemingly acting out, with a second shoopuf appearing in the Moonflow and its energies overflowing and drawing more illusions into reality. (“Yuna: The Moonflow energy is responding to the will of the living. It’s as if… we’re in the Farplane.”) And it’s more vivid than what the Farplane is capable of, even breaking the rules of “beckoning”. This is something new, something worse. Something worse enough to bring back Sin (which I thought was just me extrapolating a potential, but they actually mention it in the audio drama that it happens). Yuna promises the people that she will defeat Sin, but Wakka tries to keep her from being made to promise such a thing at first, which is an interesting choice (“Wakka: Yuna, let’s go back to Besaid. They’ll push this all on you… Sin is for summoners, in their minds.”).

Where does the world go in this present circumstances? Why IS Yuna seemingly content to do what chafed her in the Eternal Calm short movie and stay praying in Besaid and helping the elders who are lost now that Yevon as they knew it is in shambles? Why are Lulu and Wakka enabling and protecting her in that? Why is Tidus looking injured and weak and why is Yuna keeping him at arm’s length? Why does she tell him that she’s fallen in love with someone else?

I know the typical story beat interpretation is “Yuna told him that and pushed him away so he wouldn’t be in danger for what she needs to do, bc defeating Sin caused his death last time”. But hear me out. Yuna knows Tidus isn’t alive. She knows that revealing that information to him will cause him to disappear again. She’s actively summoning him back to life and he has no idea (but he must suspect something is wrong, even before Yuna formally pulls away from him, he’s weakening and he probably doesn’t feel right in his own skin). I posit that her maintaining Tidus’s life is what she’s really doing praying in the Besaid Temple. She doesn’t want to get involved with the Moonflow situation, the shoopuf or the overflowing energy of the Moonflow itself. She doesn’t even really act when seeing all the ghosts in the crowd, and actively stops Kurgum from acting (plausible deniability: she and everyone else decide that sending them in that moment would be the wrong call and riots would break out, but that density of ghosts means that’s a significant amount of pyreflies that could become fiends at any moment).

I posit that Yuna’s powers are working, that people close to her think her powers aren’t working (Lulu and Wakka), and she’s hiding it from everyone else. That her powers aren’t working because she’s currently using them to maintain Tidus’s existence. And this maintaining is breaking the Farplane in half, because she’s powerful but has no idea what she’s doing. (Why would she really know what she’s doing or the consequences? Who has any information of what she’s doing and what will happen if she does it?) I posit that Yuna’s love for Tidus is so strong that it corrupts her sense of right and wrong. X-2 is Yuna largely going on a personal quest, and incidentally helping people but separating herself from the title of High Summoner and doing something she wants to do. Rikku encourages her to do something for herself for a change right before she agrees and runs off to become a sphere hunter. She still saves the world, this time from an ancient danger Old Yevon buried and an Unsent is threatening to use (for love, notably), but she did it in the course of looking for Tidus. Who the Fayth return to life, who she hugs and is so so relieved to have in her arms again.

She’s not going to let him go, she couldn’t let him die again so much that she called him back to life.

(side note: I never truly knew how this happened so I had to consult the wiki page on the novella, and I suspect what original information I was working with was misrepresented and misinterpreted. I openly admit that the wiki page doesn’t really help me fully understand what happened, aside from explaining how Tidus ended up in proximity to a bomb. My understanding from someone’s explanation was that an Unsent summoner on the island Yuna and Tidus got washed up on after a storm told her she could call back the dead if she wanted, as a summoner. They’re all made of pyreflies, Aeons and Fiends and People and Unsent alike, and summoners are in the business of manipulating pyreflies. Either calling them from the Fayth to form an Aeon, or Sending them to the Farplane so they do not become Fiends. A summoner with enough power could summon someone back from the dead, could they not? And this Unsent summoner knew how it worked, and told Yuna how to do it. But I don’t know how real that scene could be, or how accurate it is to what’s written in the book. It’s my rule of cool moment, though, and I worked with that as my understanding when I made this theory. We have to make our peace with that, if you’ll allow me this extrapolation of Spira’s rules and a summoner’s powers.)

(The meme is Tidus kicking a blitzball and it turned out it was a bomb and his head gets blown off, but wiki says they ended up on a vision of a Besaid from 1000 years ago, and the bomb was something neither Tidus or Yuna had seen before and to them it looked like a blitzball. So, Tidus approached what he thought was a blitzball, wondering who’s ball it was, and it exploded as he reached it. I still think that’s really dumb but I’m not editing it out bc Tidus’s death creates very interesting consequences.)

So, if Yuna is summoning Tidus back to life, and she desperately doesn’t want him to find this out so she avoids him and pushes him away through any means necessary, but he’s still weakening and fading enough to be noticeable by people… perhaps also himself… Yuna returning to Yevon in some capacity could just as likely be her looking for a means to keep feeding power to this summoning she’s doing so she doesn’t lose him. And what kind of consequences does it have to do this? He’s being summoned, but he’s not actually an Aeon. He’s not an Unsent, he’s not just being beckoned. He wasn’t even real, he was a dream in a summon held together by the raw power of Yu Yevon turning into Sin. The Moonflow overflowing and seeing a long-dead shoopuf is the least of the consequences. The Farplane is delicate, it requires careful maintenance, and here Yuna is shoving her foot in the door and holding it open for a solid year! And no one knows she’s doing this! Spira’s past is full of history, some of that long-buried secrets that no one was supposed to find again. Sin wasn’t supposed to be able to come back, but the ghosts aren’t staying ghosts anymore (“Lulu: I mean Sin came back, right? What’s to stop anything else from coming back?”).

Even people who only know her by reputation seem to think she’s acting strangely (“Kurgum: I thought Lady Yuna was… a righteous person.”), because something is wrong and no one can put their finger on what. Who would have the pieces to put any of this together, and who would even suspect Yuna in the first place? She’s actively not getting involved in politics, she’s locked herself in Besaid, she seems reluctant to answer someone she worked with and should be amicable with now (Baralai).

I think the story should follow down this path, I think it should find Yuna at the end of it, once savior and now destroyer. She’s willing to let the world rip apart in order to keep Tidus, and I think that’s a compelling premise for X-3. The past surging forward like ghosts, vengeful and lost and wanted and terrifying. Who sides with Yuna (Wakka, Lulu) and covers up the problem? Who bands together to face down the High Summoner (Tidus, Rikku)? Who doesn’t know where to place their allegiance, or who changes sides when they realize the extent of what Yuna’s hiding? What does she do when she’s faced with her friends, and the person she loves so much, telling her to stop?

There’s a line in Eternal Calm where Yaibal (named in X-2 but not in the movie itself), after asking about whether or not she’d be joining one of the factions, if she’d be making a faction of her own. And I think in this potential X-3, she’s making her own faction through the actions of becoming antagonist. She’s made Wakka cover for her, she acts in a way that make Lulu and Wakka both protect her regardless of whether or not they know what she’s doing. I think it would be so fascinating to make this a conscious decision on her part. Things have broken so utterly, and she’s desperate to hold them together, and becomes the antagonist in the process.

Squeenix would never do it, they’d never be so bold as to make Yuna the antagonist and follow through on this trajectory of her lying to people to hide that she’s the one breaking the world in half (up to returning the ghost of Sin itself to terrorize Spira). Sin isn’t the final boss in this one, it’d have to be Yuna, we have to stop her and fix what went wrong. It’s not ever gonna happen, but I still think Yuna should be the antagonist of X-3.

[hitmanexchange]

Welcome to Hitman Holiday Hoarders, a gifting fest for the Hitman fandom! 🎁

Detailed schedule and rules under the cut!

Schedule

December 6 – Sign-Ups Open

December 31 – Sign-Ups Close

January 6 – Gift Reveals (16:59 UTC)

January 13 – Creator Reveals (16:59 UTC)

All times are 23:59 UTC unless otherwise specified.

The Basics

Hitman Holiday Hoarders is a gifting fest in the style of Fandom Giftbox and Fandom Trees.

Gifts are required to be drabble length (100 words) at minimum. Longer works are of course welcome.

What is a gifting fest?

Participants sign up by adding a prompt with their characters, relationships, the highest rating they're comfortable receiving, and any DNWs (Do Not Want). Others then fill their empty gift basket with short fics, and everyone gets to open their presents when the collection is revealed on January 6th.

You are not expected to write a gift for someone else if you sign up, but you're of course welcome to do so. This fest is for everyone who would like to receive a gift fic, but can't participate in exchanges for whatever reason. This event is for everyone who wants to read Hitman fanfiction and would like to receive a little gift fic. It's also for everyone who wants to write Hitman fanfiction and enjoys writing little treats with no required reciprocation.

Requests

How many requests can I add?

You can place one request under this tree. The writer(s) who choose(s) to write a ficlet for you can pick

If you’d like to suggest a specific scenario, add it to your request’s description. Try to find the right balance between an interesting idea that gives authors something to work with and a too restrictive request. You can also specify if you'd like to receive cute fluff, for example, or which characters you'd like in your fic.

You may add up to four fandoms (minimum: one) to your request. The fandoms to choose from are the Hitman video games and the other canon mediums, namely the two tie-in novels "Enemy Within" and "Damnation", and the comic book series "Agent 47: Birth of the Hitman".

Characters and Ships

You can add the characters and ships you'd like to see to the optional details of your request. When asking for relationships between characters, please make sure to use A/B for romantic or sexual interactions (including queerplatonic) and A & B for platonic or familial interactions to avoid misunderstandings.

Rating

Please pick the highest rating you're comfortable receiving. Ratings lower than the one you picked are implied; if you chose Mature, you may also receive a fic that was rated General Audiences or Teen & Up.

If you're a minor, please don't request fics that were rated Mature or Explicit. Please don't add to your request or your letter that you're a minor, we're going by basic internet safety rules here.

Fics with a higher rating than the one you chose will not be revealed until the issue is resolved.

DNW and Letters

You also have the option to add a link to a letter. These can be very useful to give your writer ideas for possible gifts. It can also be invaluable for telling them what you do not want at all.

If you have anything you Do Not Want (DNW), it must be in the request directly to be enforceable. Authors should respect the Do Not Want list; however, the requester should not abuse it to try and force the author into a corner. Do Not Wants that appear only in an external letter will not be enforced.

Please word your DNWs neutrally, and please don't explain why you don't want to see it in your gift.

Am I guaranteed a gift?

No, this is a gifting fest, not a gift exchange. Gifts are not guaranteed, but we can work together to make sure everyone who puts a request under the tree receives a gift.

Can I stay anonymous?

You can add your request anonymously, and you can choose to stay anonymous. In that case, the fic(s) written for you will not be gifted to you, but only be a prompt fill in response to your request.

Required Commenting

If you received a gift fic, even if you also wrote a fic for someone else, please try to leave a positive comment on your gift before creator reveals.

Giving kudos and sharing the gift you received on social media or to your blog, and adding it to your rec list/public bookmarks is also encouraged, but not a requirement.

If you can't comment during the anonymous period, please do so as soon as possible after creator reveals.

Participants who did not comment on their received gift fic will not be able to participate in future gifting fests or prompt fests until they caught up with any missing comments.

I don't have an AO3 account!

There's still enough time to request an invite by joining the queue. If you learned about this event too late and can't get an invite before December 25th, please contact me and I'll help you out.

Prompt Fills

Minimum Requirements

Since this is a gifting fest and a busy time for everyone, the minimum requirements are intentionally low: 100 words, which is a drabble. If you want to write more, you absolutely can! There is no maximum wordcount.

Prompt fills need to honour the requester's DNW (Do Not Want) and the maximum rating they chose. Works need to be newly published for this exchange and created by you in good faith. AI-generated works are not welcome.

Posting

In order to post, go to your AO3 claims page and click the "fill" button on your claimed prompt. That will take you to a new-works form with the prompt already tickied. If the request you picked was not anonymous (or is not anonymous anymore by January 6th), please gift your work to the person whose request you picked. You might need to add the username yourself.

Deadline

There is no hard deadline, but since this is a holiday themed gifting fest, please post your work to the collection before work reveals on January 6th. The collection will stay open, and you can post additional works both during the anonymous period and afterwards.

Anonymity

Works stay anonymous until creator reveals, the Saturday after work reveals.

Please don't reveal your identity before that. Don't add your work to one of your existing series, add a revealing author's note, or discuss your work on social media. The anonymous period is part of the fun. You're free to do all these things after the creators are revealed! Logged-in comment replies to your own work will not reveal your identity; you'll show as "Anonymous Creator" until work reveals. Feel free to reply to the comments you receive during the anon period.

Multi-Fills

You may claim a request that has already been claimed by someone else. Since this is a gifting fest without assignments, please try to also claim a request that hasn't been claimed yet, to make sure everyone who participates receives at least one gift.

Be friendly!

Make sure that your prompts and your fanworks do not contain any hostile elements towards people you disagree with in any part of the fanwork (title, tags, summary, author's notes, body text). Refrain from adding DNI notes.

If you shame or harass other participants, or if there are signs that you have deliberately caused problems in multiple exchanges, the mod will delete your signup.

[bideo-gaming]

Final Touches

Control Display

As the controls for my game aren't explained or intuitive [like it would be with a mouse], they need to be displayed. I'm doing this via having a display at the top of the screen, which also helps utilising that empty area of the screen.

I didn't want my game to be too wordy or imposing, so I tried to suggest what buttons are tied to what attacks without stating it. The outline was something I came up with on my first draft and thought looked nice - there was absolutely no rhyme or reason behind the design.

I'm fairly proud of this - the player gets an idea of what each button is, while there still being space to learn how attacks work.

The camera location and angle had to be modified a little to accommodate the control display, but I quite like how it looks [being able to see more of the base is an added bonus too]

I'd accidently anchored the control panel to the whole top of the screen rather than the centre point so it was being squished - this has been fixed by re-anchoring it.

Start/End Screens

As with my controls panel, there was no defined inspiration for this. I created the background and redrew the text from a set I'd used in my first project. As for the two roulette wheels, they were good luck that I capitalised on - I knew I wanted to stylise it, albeit I didn't know how. Originally, I'd considered having the winning character in some sort of victory pose, such as from Overwatch, Battlefield 2042, etc, but this just wasn't practical.

I reused my code for switching between the win/loss screen from my cards. Although initially it didn't work, I rebuilt it all. This got it working, but it isn't always triggered when it should, leading to scenarios where both characters have 0 health. This may simply be an issue with the health being updated though.

Another bug I encountered was the endcard animation playing twice - this was resolved with a simple branch and variable to check if the animation had played already.

This is my start screen. I used the same template as my end screen, with a banner and text overlayed. I particularly enjoyed adding the shading on my coin die and the text [I love adding shading]. I needed a reference image for the die, as it's not something I can draw first-try however I am particularly proud of the outcome.

For implementation, I need the 'press space' text to flicker, and for it all to fade out when I hit space. This worked without any issues.

This is how I implemented the vanishing text and the fadeout. I added render opacity tracks for the startscreen and text into the fadein animation, so that they occur in sync.

Fixing the Cards bug

As I've likely mentioned, using the card draw attack causes the player's turn to permenantly end. I've had this bug nearly the whole time I've had the attack, and I have no idea why. I called Jake and then Chris over - neither knew why this was happening. Eventually, I gave up. I also decided to add a little delay in, so the enemy attacked after the animation had played out - I set the Wait var to 3.5 in the attack, and added the code below.

This fixed it. The attack works fine now. I have absolutely no clue why - this was supposed to be a visual bug fix. I do not understand why it works, but I'm incredibly glad it does as this was my only problematic bug.

Audio

These are the sounds I used in my game, alongside casino background audio and a whoosh sound I used in my FPS game. This added a much-needed effect to my game, making it feel much more immersive and enjoyable. After tweaking the paper and clicking volume, the audio feels a lot more balanced.

https://freesound.org/people/ecodios/sounds/120004/

I also ended up adding a coin slot sound effect during the fade in animation as I like all player actions to have immediate audio or visual feedback [and I enjoy putting sounds in everywhere I can]. The sound was also just short enough to fit perfectly in a slightly lengthened version of the animation, and it was a very high quality recording.

Sprites breaking

For whatever reason, upon loading up my project, both my sprites were glowing on the left. I followed the below link after initially trying to change the default sprite material unsuccessfully, which worked [as you can see on the right sprite]. I figure that after building my project, something with the shaders changed so my sprites were now being illuminated.

Splash Screen/Icon

I learnt how to add in an editor/gameplay splash screen and an Icon. For the icon, I scaled up my coin icon from the start screen [and found I had to convert it to .ico which I didn't know existed] and added 2 backgrounds from War Thunder for the splash screen. I did not realise that the splashes do not get compressed or cropped, so they fill the whole screen [War Thunder backgrounds are huge and super high resolution]. I will have to redraw the [gameplay] splash screen, in part as to not use a copyrighted image and to have a more fitting image.

Blur

When I load up my game, all my sprites are blurry [except when running the game]. When this occurs is seemingly random, so I wasn't sure how to fix it. It also occured when I built my game, with all the textures and sprites being blurred.

https://forums.unrealengine.com/t/paper-2d-sprite-is-blurred-for-5-seconds-at-start-up-then-fixes-itself-how-can-i-fix-this/460228

However, after following the above advice I managed to get it working. I just hope this applies to the built version of the game.

This did not work. After trawling through the forums I found the below ticket and followed all the advice and installed all the files. This didn't work. I even tried to follow what the below image indicated and set the filter to nearest in my sprites and blueprints but I couldn't find it.

Eventually it occured this may be in the tetures, which it was. Upon changing the filter in every single texture, the textures stayed high-resolution

Packaging

Whenever I tried to package my game on my home PC, I recieved an issue referring to the SDK not being installed. I found the below ticket and installed all the relevant files - finally getting the dotnet program installed allowed the packager to fuction properly.

https://forums.unrealengine.com/t/unreal-engine-5-packaging-error-on-windows-10/231912/29

My last issue related to the .exe not working by itself, but I realised I could just package up all the files and upload them to itch.io as a .zip which worked fine.

[squigglywindy]

L O V E Y S Q U I G for the ask game :D

Dragon. Oh honey you know how much I like to talk.

L (What's the weirdest AU you've ever come up with): I've only ever really kind of written one AU. I started it and scrapped it fairly quickly but it was fun while it lasted. Basic premise: The Boys go to college. They all live on the same floor of some residence hall. They suffer the absolute roller coaster that has been my college experience (I've been here six years, there's a bit to work with) and have a good time. Time is the RA. That is all.

O (How begin, plot or characters): Usually characters! Most of the time I think 'hmm, I'd like to explore this dynamic' and then come up with a scenario for it, but every once in awhile I'll think of the scenario first and work backwards.

V (A secondary or underrated character you want to see more of in fic?): Aryll my precious beloved child I have devoured all ao3 has to offer and it is Not Much

E (If sequel, what about): Given I've only shared one of my disaster fics, I guess a sequel to "Wake Up" would involve reviving Zelda, probably giving her amnesia because I'm Mean, and doing a whole little adventure where those two clueless amnesiacs try to figure out what's going on

Y (A character you want to protect): Y'know, I want to say Wind. I really want to. But also? I get way too much joy out of his suffering so... If my scattered writings are anything to go by, I can't bring myself to do much to Twilight (Gee, wonder why...the poor guy)

S (Any random tropes you can't resist?): Found family my beloved I eat that up every time

Q (Any discarded scenes / storylines / projects): There's several, but the one I got the furthest on was one where there were these New Baddies who showed up and snatched Wind and Four and had them locked up for like...three weeks, I think, interrogating them about some guy called The Shadow Wielder who nobody knew was Sky the whole time, but was, and it got really dark really fast and I threw it out. Partly because I had no idea how to resolve it (or explain how Sky became TSW) but mostly because I was Way Too Mean

U (Pairing you might like to write but haven't): I'm a sucker for Zelink but aside from when I killed her, Zelda hasn't even been there for anything I've written so I haven't actually played with it.

I (Guilty pleasure in reading and/or writing): Same for both tbh. Absolutely wrecking these poor souls and then piecing them back together with The Power of Friendship. Not the All Bad things. The Bad But Hey Look It Gets Better

G (Favorite crack fic): Not really sure what qualifies as a crack fic? I mostly read H/C so... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

As you can probably tell, I have a pretty sizable stack of random snippets and abandoned works :)

[warsofasoiaf]

Writing Characters With Believable Military PTSD

I typically write these writing and worldbuilding essays from a dispassionate perspective, offering advice and context to prospective writers from as neutral a point of view as I can manage, with the goal being to present specific pieces of information and broader concepts that can hopefully improve writing and build creators’ confidence to bring their projects to fruition, whether that be writing, tabletop gaming, video game programming, or anything that suits their fancy. While writing this essay though, I struggled to maintain that perspective. Certainly, the importance of the topic to me was a factor, but ultimately, I saw impersonality just as a suboptimal presentation method for something so intensely personal. I do maintain some impartiality particularly in places where historical or academic context is called for, but in other respects I’ve opted for a different approach. Ultimately, this essay is a labor of love for me, love for those who suffer from military PTSD, love for those who love those who suffer from it, and love for writers who want to, in the way that they so choose, help those two other groups out. Thus, this is a different type of essay in certain segments than my usual fare; I hope the essay isn’t an unreadable chimera because of it.

This essay focuses on military-related PTSD. While there are some concepts that translate well into PTSD in the civilian sphere, there are unique elements that do not necessarily fit the mold in both directions, so for someone hoping to write a different form of PTSD, I would recommend finding other resources that could better suit your purposes. I also recommend using more than one source just in general, trauma is personal and so multiple sources can help provide a wide range of experiences to draw upon, which should hopefully improve any creative work.

And as a final introductory note, traumatic experiences are deeply personal. If you are using someone you know as a model for your writing, you owe it to that person to communicate exactly what you are doing and to ask their permission every step of the way. I consider it a request out of politeness to implore any author who uses someone else’s experiences to inform their writing in any capacity, but when it comes to the truly negative experiences in someone’s life, this rises higher from request to demand. You will ask someone before taking a negative experience from their own life and placing it into your creative works, and you will not hide anything about it from them. Receiving it is a great sign of trust. The opposite is a travesty, robbing someone of a piece of themselves and placing it upon display as a grotesque exhibit. And if that sounds ghoulish and macabre, it’s because it is, without hyperbole. Don’t do it.

Why Write PTSD?

What is the purpose of including PTSD in a creative work? There have been plenty of art therapy actions taken by those who suffer PTSD to create something from their condition, which can be as profound for those who do not have it as it is therapeutic for those that do, but why would someone include it in their creative works, and why is some no-name guy on the internet writing an essay offering tips as to how to do it better?

Certainly, one key element is that it’s real, and it happens. If art is to reflect upon reality, PTSD suffered by soldiers is one element of that, so art can reflect it, but what specifically about PTSD, as opposed to any other facet of existence? Author preference certainly plays a factor, but why would someone try to include something that is difficult to understand and difficult to portray? While everyone comes to their own reason, I think that a significant number of people are curious about what exactly goes on in the minds of someone suffering through PTSD, and creative works allow them a way to explore it, much the way fiction can explore scenarios and emotions that are either unlikely or unsafe to explore in reality. If that’s the case, then the purpose of this essay is rather simple, to make the PTSD examination more grounded in reality and thus a better reflection of it. But experiences are unique even if discernable patterns emerge, so in that sense, no essay created by an amateur writer with no psychological experience could be an authoritative take on reality, the nature of which would is far beyond the scope of this essay.

For my own part, I think that well-done creative works involving PTSD is meant to break down the isolation that it can cause in its wake. Veterans suffering may feel that they are alone, that their loved ones cannot understand them and the burden of trying to create that would simply push them away; better instead to have the imperfect bonds that they currently have than risk losing them entirely. For those who are on the outside looking in, isolation lurks there as well, a gulf that seems impossible to breach and possibly intrusive to even try. Creative works that depict PTSD can help create a sense that victims aren’t alone, that there are people that understand and can help without demeaning the sense of self-worth. Of course, another element would be to reduce the amount of poorly-done depictions of PTSD. Some creative works use PTSD as a backstory element, relegating a defining and important element of an individual’s life as an aside, or a minor problem that can be resolved with a good hug and a cry or a few nights with the right person. If a well-done creative work can help create a bridge and break down isolation, a poorly-done one can turn victims off, reinforcing the idea that no one understands and worse, no one cares. For others, it gives a completely altered sense of what PTSD is and what they could do to help, keeping them out, confusing them, or other counter-productive actions. In that sense, all the essay is to help build up those who are doing the heavy lifting. I’m not full of so much hubris as to think this is a profound piece of writing that will help others, but if creators are willing to try and do the hard work of building a bridge, I could at least try to help out and provide a wheelbarrow.

An Abbreviated Look At The Many Faces and Names of PTSD Throughout History

PTSD has been observed repeatedly throughout human history, even when it was poorly understood. This means that explorations of PTSD can be written in settings even if they did not have a distinctly modern understanding of neurology, trauma, or related matters. These historical contexts are also useful for worldbuilding a believable response in fictional settings and scenarios that don’t necessarily have a strict analogue in our own history. By providing this historical context, hopefully I can craft a broad-based sense of believable responses to characters with PTSD at a larger level.

In the time of Rome, it was understood by legionnaires that combat was a difficult endeavor, and so troops were typically on the front lines engaged in combat for short periods of time, to be rotated back for rest while others took their place. It was considered ideal, in these situations, to rotate troops that fought together back so that they could rest together. The immediate lesson is obvious, the Romans believed that it was vital for troops to take time to process what they had done and that was best served with quiet periods of rest not just to allow the adrenaline to dissipate (the "combat high"), but a chance for the mind to wrap itself around what the legionnaire had done. The Romans also recognized that camaraderie between fellow soldiers helped soldiers to cope, and this would be a running theme throughout history (and remains as such today). Soldiers were able to empathize with each other, and help each other through times of difficulty. This was not all sanguine, however, Roman legions depended on their strong formations, and a soldier that did not perform their duty could endanger the unit, and so shame in not fulfilling their duty was another means to keep soldiers in line. The idea of not letting down your fellow soldiers is a persistent refrain in coping with the traumas of war, and throughout history this idea has been used for both pleasant and unpleasant means of keeping soldiers in the fight.

In the Middle Ages, Geoffroi de Charny wrote extensively on the difficulties that knights could experience on the campaign trail in his Book of Chivalry. The book highlights the deprivation that knights suffered, from the bad food and poor sleep to the traumatic experience of combat to being away from family and friends to the loss of valued comrades to combat and infection; each of these is understood as a significant stressor that puts great strain on the mental health of soldiers up to today. De Charny recommended focusing on the knightly oaths of service, the needs of the mission of their liege, and the duty of the knight to serve as methods to help bolster the resolve of struggling knights. The book also mentions seeking counseling and guidance from priests or other confidants to help improve their mental health to see their mission through. This wasn’t universal, however. Some severely traumatized individuals were seen as simple cowards, and punished harshly for their perceived cowardice as antithetical to good virtue and to serve as an example.

World War I saw a sharp rise in the reported incidents of military-related PTSD and new understandings and misunderstandings. The rise in the number of soldiers caused a rise in cases of military PTSD, even though the term itself was not known at the time. Especially in the early phases of the war, many soldiers suffering from PTSD were thought to be malingering, pretending to have symptoms to avoid being sent to the front lines. The term “shell shock” was derived because it was believed that the concussive force of artillery bombardment caused brain damage as it rattled the skull or carbon monoxide fumes would damage the brain as they were inhaled, as a means to explain why soldiers could have physical responses such as slurred speech, lack of response to external stimuli, even nigh-on waking catatonia, despite not being hit by rifle rounds or shrapnel. This would later be replaced by the term “battle fatigue” when it became apparent that artillery bombardment was not a predicative indicator. Particularly as manpower shortages became more prevalent, PTSD-sufferers could be sent to firing squads as a means to cow other troops to not abandon their post. Other less fatal methods of shaming could occur, such as the designation “Lack of Moral Fibre,” an official brand of cowardice, as an attempt to shame the members into remembering their duty. As the war developed, and understanding grew, better methods of treatment were made, with rest and comfort provided to slight cases, strict troop rotations observed to rotate men to and from the front lines, and patients not being told that they were being evacuated for nervous breakdown to avoid cementing that idea in their mind. These lessons would continue into World War II, where the term “combat stress reaction” was adopted. While not always strenuously followed, regular rotations were adopted as standard policy. This was still not universal, plenty of units still relied upon bullying members into maintaining their post despite mental trauma.

The American military promotes a culture of competence and ability, particularly for the enlisted ranks, and that lends itself to the soldier viewing themselves in a starkly different fashion than a civilian. Often, a soldier sees the inability to cope with a traumatic experience as a personal failure stemming from the lack of mental fortitude. Owning up to such a lack of capability is tantamount to accepting that they are an inferior soldier, less capable than their fellows. This idea is commonly discussed, and should not be ignored, but it is far from the only reason. The military also possesses a strong culture of fraternity that obligates “Don’t be a fuckup,” is a powerful motivating force, and it leads plenty of members of the military to ignore traumatic experiences out of the perceived need not to put the burden on their squadmates. While most professional militaries stress that seeking mental health for trauma is not considered a sign of weakness, enlisted know that if they receive mental health counseling, it is entirely likely that someone will have to take their place in the meantime. That could potentially mean that another person, particularly in front-line units, are exposed to danger that they would otherwise not be exposed to, potentially exacerbating guilt if said person gets hurt or killed. This is even true in stateside units, plenty of soldiers don’t report for treatment because it would mean dumping work on their fellows, a negative aspect of unit fraternity. Plenty of veterans also simply never are screened for mental health treatment, and usually this lends to a mentality of “well, no one is asking, so I should be fine.” These taken together combine to a heartbreaking reality, oftentimes a modern veteran that seeks help for mental trauma has often coped silently for years, perhaps self-medicating with alcohol or off-label drug usage, and is typically very far along their own path comparatively. Others simply fall through the cracks, not being screened for mental disorders and so do not believe that anything is wrong; after all, if something was wrong, surely the doctors would notice it, right? The current schedule of deployments, which are duration-based and not mission-based, also make it hard for servicemembers to rationalize their experiences and equate them to the mission; there’s no sense of pairing suffering to objectives the way that de Charnay mentioned could help contextualize the deprivation and loss. These sorts of experiences make the soldier feel adrift, and their suffering pointless, which is discouraging on another level. It is one thing to suffer for a cause, it’s another not to know why, amplifying the feelings of powerlessness and furthering the isolation that they feel.

Pen to Page - The Characters and Their Responses

The presentation of PTSD within a character will depend largely on the point-of-view that the author creates. A character that suffers from PTSD depending on the presence of an internal or external point-of-view, will be vastly different experiences on page. Knowing this is essential, as this will determine how the story itself is presenting the disorder. Neither is necessarily more preferable than the other, and is largely a matter of the type of story being told and the personal preference of the author.

Internal perspectives will follow the character’s response from triggering event to immediate response. This allows the author to present a glimpse into what the character is experiencing. In these circumstances, remember that traumatic flashbacks are merely one of many experiences that an average sufferer of PTSD can endure. In a visual medium, flashbacks are time-effective methods to portray a character reliving portions of a traumatic experience, but other forms of media can have other tools. Traumatic flashbacks are not necessarily a direct reliving of an event from start to finish, individuals may instead feel sudden sharp pains of old injuries, be overwhelmed by still images of traumatic scenes or loud traumatic sounds. These can be linked to triggers that bring up the traumatic incident, such as a similar sight, sound, or smell. These moments of linkage are not necessarily experienced linearly or provide a clear sequence of events from start to finish (memory rarely is unless specifically prompted), and it may be to the author’s advantage to not portray them as such in order to communicate the difficulty in mental parsing that the character may be experiencing. Others might be more intrusive, such as violently deranged nightmares that prevent sleep. The author must try to strike a balance between portraying the experience realistically and portraying it logically that audience members can understand. The important thing about these memories is that they are intrusive, unwelcome, and quite stressful, so using techniques that jar the reader, such as the sudden intrusive image of a torn body, a burning vehicle, or another piece of the traumatic incident helps communicate the disorientation. Don't rely simply on shock therapy, it's not enough just to put viscera on the page. Once it is there, the next steps, how the character reacts, is crucial to a believable response.

When the character experiences something that triggers their PTSD, start to describe the stress response, begin rapidly shortening the sentences to simulate the synaptic activity, express the fight-flight-freeze response as the character reacts, using the tools of dramatic action to heighten tension and portraying the experience as something frightful and distinctly undesirable. The triggering incident brings back the fear, such as a pile of rubble on the side of the road being a potential IED location, or a loud firework recalling the initial moments of an enemy ambush. The trauma intrudes, and the character falls deep into the stress response, and now they react. How does this character react? By taking cover? By attacking the aggressor who so reminds them of the face of their enemy? Once the initial event starts, then the character continues to respond. Do they try to get to safety? Secure the area and eliminate the enemy? Eventually, the character likely recognizes their response is inappropriate. It wasn’t a gunshot, it was a car backfiring, the smell of copper isn’t the sight of a blown-apart comrade and the rank odor of blood, it’s just a jug of musty pennies. This fear will lead to control mechanisms where the victim realizes that their response is irrational. Frequently, the fear is still there, and it still struggles with control. This could heighten a feeling a powerlessness in the character as they try and fail to put the fear under control: "Yes, I know this isn’t real and there’s nothing to be afraid of, but I’m still shaking and I am still afraid!" It’s a horrifying logical track, a fear that the victim isn’t even in control of their thoughts - the one place that they should have control - and that they might always be this way. There’s no safety since even their thoughts aren’t safe. Despair might also follow, as the victim frantically asserts to regain control. Usually with time, the fear starts to lessen as the logical centers of the brain regain control, and the fear diminishes. Some times, the victim can't even really recall the exact crippling sense of fear when attempting to recall it, only that they were afraid and that it was deeply scary and awful, but the notion that it happened remains in their mind.

Control mechanisms are also important to developing a believable PTSD victim. Most sufferers dread the PTSD response and so actively avoid objects or situations that could potentially trigger. Someone who may have had to escape from a helicopter falling into the ocean may not like to be immersed in water. Someone who was hit by a hidden IED may swerve to avoid suspicious piles in the road. Someone buried under a collapsing ceiling may become claustrophobic. Thus, many characters with PTSD will be hypervigilant almost to the point of exhaustion, avoiding setting off the undesired response. This hypervigilance is mentally taxing; the character begins to become sluggish mentally as all their energy is squeezed out, leaving them struggling for even the simplest of rational thoughts. This mental fog can be translated onto the page in dramatic effect by adding paragraph length to even simple actions, bringing the reader along into the fog, laboriously seeing the character move to perform simple actions. Then, mix in a loss of a sense of purpose. They’re adrift, not exactly sure what they’re doing and barely aware of what’s happening, although they are thinking and functioning. In the character’s daily life, they are living their life using maximum effort to avoid triggering responses; this is another aspect of control that the character can use as an attempt to claw back some semblance of power in their own lives. Even control methods that aren’t necessarily healthy such as drinking themselves to pass out every night or abusing sleeping pills in an attempt to sleep due to their nightmares, are ways to attempt to regain a sense of normalcy and function. Don’t condescend to these characters and make them pathetic, that’s just another layer of cruelty, but showing the unhealthy coping mechanisms can demonstrate the difficulty that PTSD victims are feeling. Combined with an external perspective, the author can show the damage that these unhealthy actions are doing without casting the character as weak for not taking a different path.

External perspectives focus on the other characters and how they observe and react to the individual in question. Since the internal thought process of the character is not known, sudden reactions to an unknown trigger can be quite jarring for characters unaware, which can mirror real-life experiences that individuals can have with PTSD-sufferers. In these types of stories, the character’s reaction to the victim is paramount. PTSD in real life often evokes feelings of helplessness in loved ones when they simply cannot act to help, can evoke confusion, or anger and resentment. These reactions are powerful emotions with the ability to drive character work, and so external perspectives can be useful for telling a story about what it is like for loved ones who suffer in their own fashion. External perspectives can be used not just in describing triggering episodes, but in exploring how the character established coping mechanisms and how their loved ones react to them. Some mechanisms are distinctly unhealthy, such as alcohol or prescription drug abuse, complete withdrawal, or a refusal to drive vehicles, and these create stress and a feeling of helplessness in characters or can impel them to try and take action. Others can be healthy, and a moment of inspiration and joy for an external perspective could be sharing in that mechanism, demonstrating empathy and understanding which evokes strong pathos, and hopefully to friends of those who suffer from PTSD, a feeling that they too, are not alone.

As the character progresses, successes and failures can often be one of the most realistic and most important things to include within the work, since those consumers who have PTSD will see parts of themselves in the characters, which can build empathy and cut down on the feelings of isolation that many victims of PTSD feel. A character could, over the course of the story, begin weaning themselves off of their control mechanisms, have the feelings of panic subside as their logical sides more quickly assert control, replace unhealthy coping mechanisms with healthier ones, or other elements of character progression and growth. Contrarily, a character making progress could, after experiencing significant but unrelated stressors, backslide either into unhealthy coping mechanisms or be blindsided by another attack. This is a powerful fear for the victim, since it can cause them to think ‘all my progress, all my effort, and I am not free!’ This is often a great fear for PTSD users (people with depression often have the same feeling) that find methods of coping are no longer as effective, and the struggle is perceived as one that they’re ultimately doomed to failure. This feeling of inevitable failure can lead to self-harm and suicide as their avenue of success seems to burn to ash right as it was in their hands. More than one soldier suffering from PTSD has ended up concluding: “Fuck it, I can’t live like this,” as horrible as that is. Don’t be afraid to include setbacks and backsliding, those happen in reality, and can be one of the most isolating fears in their lives; if the goal of portraying PTSD accurately is to help remove that feeling of isolation, then content creators must not avoid these experiences. Success as well as failure are essential to PTSD in characters in stories, these elements moreso than any other, I believe, will transcend the medium and form a connection, fulfilling the objective we set out to include in the beginning paragraphs.

Coming Back to the Beginning

It might be counterintuitive at first glance to say “including military PTSD will probably mean it will be a long journey full of discouraging story beats that might make readers depressed,” because that’s definitely going to discourage some readers to do that. I don’t see it that way, though. The people that want to do it should go in knowing it’s going to be hard, and let that strengthen their resolve, and put the best creation they can forward. The opposite is also true. Not every prospective author has to want to include any number of difficult subjects in their works, and that’s perfectly fine. Content creators must be free to shape the craft that they so desire without the need to be obligated to tackle every difficult issue, and so no content creator should be thought of as lesser or inferior because they opt not to include it in their works. I think that’s honestly stronger than handling an important topic poorly, or even worse, frivolously. Neither should anyone think that a content creator not including PTSD in their works means that they don’t care about those who suffer from it or for those who care about them or who simply don’t care about the subject in general. That’s just a terrible way to treat someone, and in the end, this entire excursion was about the opposite

Ultimately, this essay is a chance not only to help improve creative works involving PTSD, but to reflect on the creative process. Those who still want to proceed, by all means, do so. Hopefully this essay will help you create something that can reach someone. If every piece of work that helps portray PTSD can reach someone somewhere and make things easier, even if ever so little, well then, that’s what it’s really all about.

Hoping everyone has a peaceful Memorial Day. Be good to each to other.

SLAL

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

We Met Within This Screen (chapt. 2)

[Donnie x fem reader]

Sfw, part 1 here

Intellectually, Donnie was the best matchup for their leader as today was sparring day. He'd gone against his oldest brother many times, sometimes even coming out the victor himself, but today was just not his day.

He held his staff with that iron grip of his and waited for Leo to come at him. Donnie was more on the defensive than any of his brothers; he had to be. Out of all he was weakest physically but superior in calculations, but he was missing range in this matchup. Leo had a hard time disarming him as his katana could sometimes get lodged in the solid wood staff, giving Donnie leverage to perform the finisher in the short time it took him to dislodge his sword. He thought this time would be how that would happen.

"You're slow today, Donnie," Leo said as he lunged at his brother with a swing of his katana, forcing Donnie to step back. He was too focused on blocking Leo's rapid succession of attacks to respond.

Leo reeled back to swing his blade again but Donnie parried and struck his arm with his staff, shoving it aside. For a split second, Leo actually thought he was fixing to go down by this move if Donnie could hit him again quick enough. But his brother hesitated in thought, and without any reluctance himself, he used his other katana to put him in a compromising position. The match was over and Donnie was forced to stand down.

"Why did you hesitate?" Leo questioned him, lowering his blade. Raph watched from the sidelines with Mikey as they prepared to go up next. Since Leo was the winner, it was Raph's turn next to spar in his younger brother's place.

Donnie huffed and dropped his stance, putting his staff away. "It's just an off day," he replied. Splinter wasn't there to dictate today's training session and tournament, so Donnie was already on his way out to go to his lab by the time Raph stepped up to spar. But Leo sheathed his sword and put a hand on Donnie's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

"You've been pretty eager to run back to your lab lately," Leo said matter-of-factly. He was wondering what was going on, why Donnie seemed weirdly distant the last couple of weeks. He had gone through a very withdrawn phase in earlier times upon entering his teenage years, but now, he was legitimately making everyone guess. He didn't snap at his brothers, and he wasn't any more impatient than usual. But something was different. He'd been spending a lot more time holed up in his lab, which everyone began to notice. Leo wanted to know what was wrong.

Donnie shifted and shrugged, "Like I said, I've been busy with some projects. Also, it's not like I have much to do out here beside training and patrol."

Leo opened his mouth to speak, but Mikey jumped on between them. "You missed game night last week! You never miss it," he butted in. Both Donnie and Leo gave him a look as if to say really? and he added in, "Well, uh...not usually."

Gently moving Mikey aside, Leo wanted to continue, but he saw Donnie staring at him expecting a follow-up when he didn't really have one. Whatever this was, Leo knew that coming at Donnie with questions was not the way to go about it. So he stepped back and gave his brother some space.

"We all have off days," Leo said finally after an awkward moment of silence. "Just work on your speed, Don."

"Got it."

With that, Donnie turned to leave, and Raph entered the ring to go against Leo in the last match of the night.

Once Donnie was gone, Leo got ready to spar with Raph. As they got into position, he contemplated bringing this recent development up with the other two, but decided against it in the end. He didn't want to incriminate Donnie, especially with Raph's assertive approach to handling things. Donnie could be somewhat flighty at times when it came to resolving matters of emotion, at times a little too introspective, but Leo couldn't fault him—he had his own struggles with that very thing, too.

Done, finally, Donnie thought as he skirted into his lab and started up the game. He was late to the party quite literally; training lasted longer than he'd thought, and he was disappointed to see that his newest friend was online, but not responding to his invite. Did everyone get together and play without him? After a few minutes, he almost decided on giving up. The instance made him contemplate whether he even wanted to continue this. Perhaps he'd been too eager.

He sighed. And then the menu pinged, and he was there reading the message in an instant.

Hey, sorry I partied up without you, I just didn't know if you were gonna be on or not :/

Without even thinking, he licked his lips typed back, repeatedly deleting and retyping his message to make sure it was casual but not too casual, apologetic but not desperate—

It's okay, don't worry about it

Likewise sorry it took me so long to get here.

That would do. He'd be lying to say he wasn't feeling that flutter in his stomach; the excitement of something new got to him in a way that only a discovery in his research did, or how he felt when he mastered a new technique in his training.

Let's get started then :)

They started the game, and this time he kept the mic on, as she did. They talked back and forth as they fought creatures and enemies and looted things, eventually coming to learn that she herself was in New York City. He was surprised; suddenly, the world felt a lot smaller, and he couldn't concentrate on just playing after that. The time they spent became more of an opportunity to converse than to play a mundane game for hours on end.

At some point, she switched the topic to his whereabouts. Donnie's breath hitched.

"I'm...not anywhere near. So it doesn't really matter," he told her, cringing. If the guys found out—if Splinter found out—he would be in such trouble.

"Oh," she paused for a moment, trying to find something to say. "That's alright, I don't want you to feel like you have to tell me, you know?"

He'd muted his mic to release a deep breath. He got lost in thought thinking about how in that moment, he wanted to be human. If he weren't a giant mutant turtle, he could actually form a connection with someone. It was a very "Mikey" thing to think, he reckoned, but at times he wanted friends just like his brother did.

"Yeah, sorry, I just…"

"It's really no problem, dude."

He felt as though he could hear the smile in her voice. What did she look like, he wondered. He wanted to see her, but he couldn't ask for that when he could never do the same. If he could get her name, he'd be in the clear to do some preliminary lookups on this person, but so far, she'd been dodgy about sharing info about herself as well. He couldn't blame her. They were two strangers online, one with a huge secret and the other completely in the dark about who he truly was. For all she knew, he could have been a creep, looking to stalk her online and perhaps do even worse. The thought made him feel almost nauseous, how she could be considering that about him as a possibility as they spoke. But she seemed comfortable enough. Unlike him, who was still slightly skeptical of the entire thing, because after spending his whole life in practical isolation, he was at a loss as to what to say or do after a certain point. The conversation died off and both of them thought simultaneously about how weird the sudden silence between them felt.

She hummed, as if searching for something to bring up. When she spoke, he was taken aback—"Hey, I'm gonna be honest, I really like talking to you but this game is getting boring. Do you wanna chat somewhere else?"

"Uh…" he trailed off, mind shooting blanks. Oh, was it just a horrible idea. He couldn't keep the jig up forever; the truth was bound to get revealed somewhere down the line. He was fixing to reject the proposition, tell her that he didn't want to take it that far. She could be anyone. The likelihood of it being a clever ruse on account of the Foot Clan was slim, but the paranoia still worked ambiently in the background noise of his mind. But his other doubt stopped him—when would he ever have a chance at this again? He wanted to have the strength to say no and leave it at that. The loneliness that crept up on him from time to time had something else to say.

"Yeah," he answered after a terribly long pause of mumbling, fighting with himself all the way as she told him where to add her. He could have kicked himself had it not been for the fact that he knew how to encrypt data, and that as long as he didn't leak a word about his inner circle or life, it would be okay. It didn't feel okay, though.

"Nice! I'll text you, see you later, Bo. I had a lot of fun tonight," she chirped.

Before he could respond, she was gone from the party, and the mic went silent. It happened so fast. He was barely caught up with the fact that he was now receiving messages and prompts to talk, but he couldn't bring himself to answer right away. He had to refocus his logic; how could this be used by the enemy as a way to get to them? Could they have somehow anticipated he'd download this game and find this random on there? The more the thought about it, the more glaringly obvious it was that it was not the case. It was just too improbable.

"The probability of the Foot being able to simulate such a specific scenario in order to get intel on us is so slim, it is practically non-existent," he told himself as he finally pulled up the messages. He read through them. "Approximately a zero-point-zero-zero-zero..."

My name is (Y/N), by the way :)

Well, that was easier than expected. He figured that somehow, the name suited you—a fitting name for such a personality. But it also gave him a glimmer of hope. It made him want to ask why you appeared to trust him, as he could be anyone on the Earth over the screen, not his benevolent self. Which she had no way of proving, technically. But he soon came to realize the screen painted him in a whole new light that it casted on him. It hit then that he could be anyone. He didn't have to be himself; not necessarily. She'd never have to know, as he could wear a human mask and she'd be none the wiser. Problem was, the lying made him feel guilty, and slowly would develop to be the thorn in his side.

Donnie thoughtfully stared at the screen. Now that he was here, some of his anxiety began to fade. He found himself actually able to talk, someone to listen to his tangents and even build upon them. They spent hours texting back and forth about anything and everything until it was almost time for him to put the phone down to leave for patrol. He felt giddy, like a kid, all over again.

________________________________________

Had you ever been able to talk to someone this easily?

You asked yourself that question as you exchanged with the faceless and nameless stranger over your screen, chatting from afternoon to night. Time flew by in an instant, with him, and you loved every minute. He was someone intellectual, but funny and so easy to talk to that it was as though the conversation carried itself. After some time he came out about his age after you revealed yours. Oftentimes, he'd just present to you a random question when the subject tapered off and run with it, like now:

What do you think of reptiles?

Puzzled, you took a second to reply. Odd question.

Why do you ask? Do you have one?

I was just curious

What do you think of them?

The chat indicator flip-flopped between "typing" and "idle" a few times before a message finally popped up, and you smiled. You'd learned over this short time that he was a dork in a cute way.

Well...I think they're pretty cool.

They've got natural armor and you would be surprised to know just how fast a turtle can be

You laughed a little to yourself. It was such a random thing to bring up, yet you were endeared. Deciding you'd go along with it, you asked him what else he knew about turtles.

Well...

__________________________________________________

Donnie was wondering what he was talking about just as much as she probably was. Stupid, he thought, facepalming. His first time really speaking with a human as an equal and he starts talking about turtles. Of course he knew a lot about them, he was one himself—but for some reason he found himself wanting to dispel myths and misunderstandings about turtles as if they reflected on him, when as far as she knew, he was just a human guy like herself.

He groaned lightly and typed, thinking up a fact that wasn't too conspicuous.

Red eared sliders are semi-aquatic.

As he typed the next part, he caught himself writing "we" instead of "they", to his dismay. He quickly fixed the error and continued, feeling weirdly exposed as it was almost as though in sharing this information, he was putting himself under a microscope for her to inspect.

They can hold their breath for up to thirty minutes, usually

Holding his breath was something he'd tested numerous times before. He and his brothers had actually made a game out of it on a few occasions, with Leo leading at thirty-three minutes, Donnie in second at thirty-one. Raph broke at twenty-nine minutes and Mikey followed behind in last at just twenty-seven. The ability could be trained, nonetheless.

That's interesting, I wonder what it's like to be able to go underwater so long?

It's kind of cool, you should try sometime

For THIRTY MINUTES?

Shit. He promptly replied:

No—not like I can hold my breath that long, I just mean you should try to see sometime I guess

I tested it just for the fun of it.

Looking up how long humans could hold their breath on average (between thirty seconds and two minutes), he bumped the number up a little bit and added:

Personally, I'm at two minutes and forty-five seconds

He was embarrassed, partially covering his face as he waited for a response. Such a foolish slip-up; he couldn't afford to say anything cryptic. But he still was fairly sure that he had recovered that alright. He couldn't help but think about how awkward or weird he seemed to her. Who talked about this?

I don't think I could hold my breath for more than a minute, kudos to you haha

Anyway, sorry to switch gears all of a sudden but if you don't mind me asking, what's up with your family? You have any siblings?

He told her no. He would not bring his brothers into this, lest it be the slim chance of a ploy, after all. He said his family situation was unconventional and left it at that.

With that, he said to her goodnight and put his phone away, getting up to go get geared for patrol. It was only then he noticed the figure leaning against the doorway.

Chapter 3

[discoblocks]

Currently listening to Ranboo talk on his alt about how much lore he had planned and how it all just hasn’t worked out or hasn’t had a chance to come to light yet and it’s just!! So frustrating!!!! Like I think it’s clear that it’s not only frustrating for us the fans, it’s also frustrating for him bc he’d worked so hard on all this story and it hasn’t played out the way he wanted.

The thing is, it’s also particularly frustrating because the reason lore isn’t progressing isn’t really anything to get angry at, the way you might get mad at say a network for canceling your favourite show. Because why hasn’t lore been progressing? Because all the streamers are working on other projects rn, and are generally a bit too busy to do it at the same pace they used to. Or alternatively, they are having personal struggles that obviously take priority over Minecraft roleplay. And it’s good! It’s good that they’re doing these things, working on their own things and taking care of themselves, and I personally would like them to continue doing that. But the fact that it’s only good reasons actually makes it harder bc now not only is it frustrating to have an unfinished story with no clear idea when or if it will resolve, but also there’s not even anyone or anything to be frustrated with.

Like, say the reason lore wasn’t progressing was because twitch had some random ToS rule that was stopping them. Easy, we are frustrated with Twitch, but solutions can be found. Or maybe, say lore wasn’t happening because the server had such bad technical issues that they had to pause everything to fix it for a while, idk. In that scenario, it’s easy to direct the frustration at Minecraft the game or at the technical issues because that is a problem to be solved. But what’s actually happening is, the reason that lore isn’t progressing isn’t a problem to be solved, it’s a good thing. There isn’t any “solutions” to no lore, because there is no problem to be solved. The creators are happy because they are pursuing their passions, or they are working on taking care of themselves. Those are both good things, not things to be solved, which means there’s nowhere to direct all this frustration.

And trust me, it makes perfect sense that everyone is frustrated at no lore. Narratively, there is a LOT of suspense and tension and promises of narrative payouts that any audience would expect, and to have all of that just sort of left hanging with no clear answer on how any of it is going to resolve or tie together is FRUSTRATING for anyone watching. Especially because we don’t even know when any particular plot line is going to get new content. If this were a tv show or movie or book, there are set release dates announced well in advance. This? This is a completely new form of media where release dates are extremely rare and not necessarily reliable anyways. We have no idea if something is planned to happen soon because it’s entirely dependent on when the creators have time for it. So with multiple narrative threads left in the air and no way of knowing if they will ever be continued, and thousands of people watching, it makes sense that people are frustrated. It just also particularly sucks because there’s nothing to direct that frustration at, therefore only adding on to the frustration.

And let me add, if you are actually legit mad at the creators rn for not doing lore then this is not your post, all of the reasons they have given are perfectly valid, and it’s not our place to demand they roleplay for our entertainment. But I do understand that it’s super frustrating to become super involved in all these storylines, only to have them become seemingly abandoned, and not have a good direction to express that frustration. It just…. It all sucks, I’m very happy that the creators are doing what they want or that they’re taking care of other priorities right now, and I would absolutely not want to pull them away from that for Minecraft roleplay, but it sucks that the storylines are still so completely up in the air and we have no way of knowing what’ll happen. I think it would be nice if lore became more regular or frequent, but I would never ask for the creators to prioritize it over what they need/want to do, because that’s FAR from my place or anyone’s place. It’s all……..idk, it’s frustrating, it’s just all frustrating.

[bondsmagii]

This is definitely one of the… wilder stories here, but as always, I suppose people will believe what they will. 

This will unfortunately require some backstory, but I guess you could say the long and the short of it is that I played at being God, and it. Well. Kind of sucked, actually.

So, the backstory. I’ll try to keep it brief. I grew up in a small country village about forty-five minutes away from Belfast, Ireland. There wasn’t much going on there, as you could imagine – just a standard rural Irish town, where the most exciting thing that might happen in a week was old Farmer Joe getting a new tractor or something. Anyway, I’m not sure how many of you know about Ireland’s rather troubled past, but for the most part I missed all that. I was born around the time things were finally settling down, and while my earlier memories are filled with bomb scares and low-flying helicopters and gunshots in the night, the distant sound of shouting and the acrid smell of smoke burning a little too close for comfort, by the time I hit my teenage years most of it had wrapped up. Of course, there was the occasional scare here and there, and I’m not saying my friends and I didn’t go out looking for trouble once we were old enough, but it wasn’t the same. I’m not saying that out of a sense of, I don’t know, regret or annoyance or anything. Now I’m older, I’m not so enamoured by the idea of that much violence. I’m just saying it wasn’t really a patch on the kind of violence that used to happened there – the kind of violence that fascinated my friends and I so much. It sounds bad, but really we were just kids being kids. Little boys everywhere play at war games. It just so happened that the war we were playing had happened in our own country. It’s difficult not to be obsessed, when you see the reflection of history on the faces of every generation around you. Even slightly older siblings would know all about it – it wasn’t something you asked your grandfather, distant war stories over some vague European country that you’ve only seen on a map in your Geography classroom. This was our street corners, our high streets, the road outside the house. Here the grass verge at the side of the road where the bodies were dumped; there the lay-by where over a dozen people were blown to pieces. It was awful, but we were children. We were enamoured.

Anyway. The only violence we got really involved in was the summer rioting that happened yearly, like clockwork. It sounds like a joke, but that’s how it goes. You don’t need to know the details, but suffice to say in mid-July every year, the city would light up like we were back in the 1970s. Localised, of course, and still nowhere near as drastic as it used to be, but enough to get a taste. Petrol bombs. Police lines. Armoured cars. Water cannons. Unrestrained summer fun, you could say. But that’s for a bit later.

I’m a writer. I have been since I was four years old. Generally speaking I’m a horror writer, but I’ve branched into historical fiction a fair bit over the years. Living in Ireland, growing up how I did, it was inevitable that I would develop a fascination for Irish history. I was always a very curious child, my head in books, chasing up stories that would keep me awake at night. I never knew any boundaries. I would go after answers with military precision, asking questions, going places I shouldn’t. Dangerous for anyone, of course, but in a country like mine, where crossing the road could quite literally lead to your murder? It was reckless. I was reckless. But that’s the thing about being that age. You think you’re invincible. You think you can do anything.

I was about fourteen or fifteen, at the height of this obsession. I believe I was fifteen when I wrote this particular story, but it’s difficult to say. It was part of a series, and I was going back and forth on it and other projects for many years. Here we finally get to the point of the whole story: I had developed an obsession with Irish history, as I said, and specifically the more “modern” history – from 1916 onwards, the Easter Rising, the War of Independence, all that. I was fascinated by the Irish struggle for freedom, and while age and hindsight has lessened my… enthusiasm for the violence, I do maintain a strong opinion towards the whole thing, which is not the point here so I won’t get into it. What I’m trying to say is that my stories reflected this enthusiasm, and were undoubtedly glorifying in nature, and also at that age I was more concerned with living the fantasy than doing the research, so it was all very self-indulgent. I’m sure anyone who wrote at that age knows what I mean.

My main character… well. I’m sure you know what to expect. He was—well. Me, really. In the way of all main characters at that age, and perhaps a little even as we get older, there’s a piece of us inside all our main characters. Sometimes a little piece, other times just a cooler and more badass version of yourself. Michael was that for me. I suppose that must is obvious; I wasn’t even trying to be subtle. My name is of course Miceál, which for those of you keeping track is the Irish form of Michael. I’m just grateful that I didn’t go as far as to give him my last name, too, but everything else was there. He looked like me, he held the same views and beliefs as me, he acted like me – or at least, he acted in the ways I liked to think I’d act, or how I imagined acting later that night in the shower, reliving the scenario again. He was the best kind of self-insert character, indulgent and fun and a good friend to me. I poured a lot of myself into him. I poured everything into him. He was a constant companion, something that became ever more important to me as my real life—well, went to shit. To put it mildly. I would sit in my room writing my stories, and Michael would go out there and fight the good fight, killing and bombing for good old Ireland, and then I’d shut my computer down and go to sleep feeling just a little better than otherwise.

I’m not afraid to say that I can be obsessive. I like to get into the heads of my characters; I like to know them as well as I know everything. Yes, Michael was me, but he was also a version of me who had done things I have never done. Sometimes I would try to imagine myself as him; wonder what it was like to see through his eyes. Wonder what a me who had done that would look like. Wonder what he would do in a situation. I asked myself that a few times; a lot of times. What would Michael do? I could have put that shit on a wristband. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I’ve always been a bit of a method writer like that. It was normal, until it wasn’t.

I first saw Michael on a hot July day, in Belfast. What we call the rioting season had come around; my friends and I were there to take advantage. Just at the sidelines, mind you – nobody wants to get a face full of water cannon, even on the hottest of days. Michael was in the thick of it though. Of course he was. I’d written him to be that way.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. At first I thought I must be seeing things, but the more I looked the more I realised he looked exactly like me. Only he was a little taller, a little fitter, and his hair looked different. His clothing was different, too; perhaps a couple of decades out of date, but looking at him I saw his clothing didn’t remain consistent. The changes were subtle – material, tone – but I noticed. Looking back, I assume it’s because I never did give a specific date for his story to occur in. Well, wherever he was from he was there now, throwing rocks with the best of them, skipping from stone to stone and hurling them at police lines with an easy swing that could only come from years of practise. When we had all finally cleaned out the area – soldiers coming, a helicopter, the kind of trouble you don’t want to toy with – I managed to catch up with him. He was talking to my friends. They noticed we were both there, but didn’t seem to realise we were two different people. The whole time we were all talking, I couldn’t take my eyes off of Michael. I tried, because I knew how obvious I was being, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t work him out. I couldn’t even trust that’s what I was seeing. And the whole time, Michael watched me back. I knew the look in his eyes. It was his smug little, I know something you don’t know look. Of course I knew it. I had made him like that. I had given him that look.

I didn’t see him for some time after that. Believe it or not, I put it out of my head. I mean, come on. It was probably some other guy that my friends knew. We were in Belfast enough, and Michael isn’t exactly an uncommon name. I put it out of my mind, but I was sure that sometimes, I saw him. I was sure I’d see him in Belfast, ducking down side streets or leaning in close conversation with someone I couldn’t make out. He was always watching me. Sometimes I’d feel eyes on me and know it was him, but when I looked around I wouldn’t spot him. On some occasions – and these were always the worst – I would feel his eyes behind my own. Like he was on the inside looking out, moving independently in there, a set of eyes swivelling around over my own. It happened most often when I was trying to write his story. As you can imagine, I was nervous to do so. The more I thought I saw him, the less I wanted to write, but I didn’t think that was a good idea either. I didn’t know what to do.

It was a sunny weekend just before school started back after summer that I finally resolved to do something about it. I didn’t even feel stupid as I booted up my old Windows 95 desktop and opened Word. Michael’s story was there, in 12-point font as I always wrote then, plenty of enthusiasm but a lot less technical skill. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, and then I typed.

Hello?

Nothing, of course. I deleted the word, wondering what I had expected. Feeling a little stupid now, I tried to think about where to go with the story. It was difficult to write now I had some kind of real person to assign to it all – what were the ethics here? How could I—

I won’t get into that. It would be a philosophical essay all of its own. I sat for a while wondering what to write, and then it hit me that the story had changed. The words Michael had spoken, in the paragraph that I had left off – they were no longer the words I had written. I forget what the original words were now, but they were something relatively simple; some response to another character, and I remember that another name was mentioned in it – the name of Michael’s in-universe best friend, Eamon. Now that name was gone, and the rest of the text had changed, too. Now the writing read something different entirely.

I thought you wanted to know?

I lied earlier. I said that age and experience and perhaps some more emotional maturity had led me to turn away from the kind of violence that fascinated me so much then, and I have no doubt that under normal circumstances it would have done. I had somewhat of a speed run, however; I turned my back on it because

I’m getting ahead of myself.

I had often wondered what it would be like to do what Michael did, of course. To kill and risk death for a cause, to face down prison, torture, exile. I had wondered what it would be like to commit those acts; how easy or difficult it would be to pull a trigger or push a detonator. I liked to think, in my foolish, idealistic teenage mind, that if it came down to it I could. Of course, I was in the very privileged position to not have to actually answer that question.

Michael, on the other hand, knew. And Michael was, if not me, than a product of me. Could it be possible that he could show me?

I ignored the message for several days. I didn’t know what to think. Truth be told I thought I was going mad. School started again and I got so busy that I almost, almost forgot about it – and then I opened the document by mistake one day, got into reading it over, laughing at my brilliant comebacks, you know how it is. And there it was again.

I thought you wanted to know?

Yes, I remember thinking. It stunned me – I remember that. I didn’t want to mess with this kind of stuff – I’ve always been a huge believer in the paranormal, always been cautious when it comes to fucking with that kind of stuff. I believe that magic like this, it requires intent. It needs you to be sure. It knows how you feel, true in your heart. So even when I ignored it again, even when I deleted the words and re-wrote whatever the original had been, even as I didn’t reply… I knew in my heart that my question had been heard by something. I could feel Michael’s eyes on me again, though now I wondered if it was Michael’s eyes, or something else entirely. It felt like a weight. Have you ever been in an old, old place, where you can practically feel the people who lived and died there; reach out and touch them? It felt like that. Like the weight of history was pressing down on me. I didn’t fall asleep easily that night, but when I did sleep was dark and endless.

I don’t know how long I spent in that state. In reality it was only seven hours; I woke up with my alarm. In that time period, wherever I was – because I was not living – I seemed to witness a hundred different lives. Over the course of Michael’s story I had him do all kinds of things; live all kinds of situations. I deleted things, changed others, added things in. I wrote what would now be called alternate universes. In that night I experienced them all. I know how it feels now. I know how it feels to pull a trigger; to watch the spray of someone’s life splatter a wall or a windscreen or the screaming backseat passengers of a car. I know how it feels to push the button, the one that sends a charge surging down a wire or flickering out over my head in an invisible wave of death, notifying the bomb, detonating the explosives. I know how it feels to sit in a hotel bar across a border, listening to the news, sipping a drink and feeling my heart beat in my chest as I add more numbers to the tally, more blood to my hands. I know how it feels to be shot, to be beaten, to watch a friend die, to kill someone who used to be – who still is, despite everything – a friend. I know how it feels to cough blood into my hands, onto the ground; to grip a wound that won’t stop bleeding; the blinding flash of an explosive detonating too soon and how the whole world seems to roar and how there’s a difference between the thud and slap of wet mud hitting the ground and the warmer, denser rain of something that used to be human. For days, weeks, years – I walked in Michael’s shoes, I lived his life, I committed every act.

I felt his pain. His fear. This hellish world that he lived in, created to kill and die and lose and fear, over and over. To meet his God and to finally, finally ask – why?

And what could I say? Because I wanted to know?

Well. Now I do.

[noassallclass]

So my roommate spent all of today writing up a report for Critical Role as a company and I really don't know much about business stuff but I think it is fascinating. Read to the end for a wild ride.

"Okay here is my idea of how Critical Role is actually structured based on what public information exists:

At Geek and Sundry, “Critical Role” as an entity was essentially a partnership between all cast members. The only asset this partnership had was the intellectual property of CR and the only Revenue it took in was licensing that IP to Geek and Sundry. This is because Critical Role Partnership was adamant about maintaining ownership of the IP. This license then pays out between the partners. Percentage

ownership of Critical Role Partnership is divided based on money put in, and previous work done. I would be very surprised if Mercer did not own at least 25% but probably not more than 50%, and the others are probably more or less even. At this point, the cast members both draw a salary from geek and sundry as employees (or contractors), and collect drawings from the licensing of the IP and also royalties as actors. When Orion leaves, the others almost certainly force him to sell out his ownership portion and he probably gets royalties from Geek and Sundry (and later CRPLLC). At this point, this licensing agreement is the only transaction that the entity “Critical Role” actually conducts.

Geek and Sundry pays to produce, distribute, and market the show, and takes all profit. It also takes some aspects of creative control, but probably not that much, though this is listed as the reason to leave Geek and Sundry. At this point, Critical Role continues to license with Geek and Sundry’s parent company Legendary Digital Networks and incorporates their partnership into a Limited Liability Corporation “Critical Role Productions”.

The ownership split is probably kept mostly the same, unless someone decides to sell portions of their shares, but I don’t see why they would. The shareholders (or owners) at this point hire a bunch of employees. Some roles they hire themselves, like Willingham as CEO and Mercer as CCO, and some they hire outsiders like COO Ed Lopez, SVP of Marketing Rachel Romero, and VP of Business Development Ben Van Der Fluit. Those who take additional roles will take salaries for those roles, as well as a salary for acting and writing, and dividends from profits. It is likely that Lopez got a certain amount of shares because C-Suite Executives often do as bonuses because it’s non-taxed income until he sells it and it incentivizes maximizing profits because that would increase his dividends. The other employees probably did not receive shares, so as not to dilute the percentage ownership further.

Critical Role seemingly has no board of directors (it’s possible they have one which is not public), which only happens when there are so few shareholders that they can all convene and take votes (Usually less than 20 owners), implying they don’t use investors to raise cash, which is consistent with a desire to retain creative control. This also means that it is up to all of the shareholders to vote on decisions about the managers of the company instead of a board. That means the only way they could fire Willingham as Chief Executive Officer is if all of the shareholders convene and vote for his firing. Without a board of directors, which often has independent outsiders, this is typically seen as bad for the company’s interests, but is legal in this case because it’s a limited liability corporation and they do not trade on an exchange .

Over the next year or so, CRPLLC makes a new studio and Geek and Sundry gradually relinquishes the distribution rights to older episodes. At this point everyone who works towards the function of the production and distribution of shows is an employee of CRPLLC and not Legendary or Geek and Sundry. For the past couple of years, Critical Role has licensed various brand crossover products like Funko Pops and The Darkhorse Comics. Funko Pop pays CRPLLC for the character likenesses and keeps all profits. CRPLLC also produces its own merchandise like t shirts and that sexy calendar that they pay manufacturers to produce and CRPLLC makes the profit in that scenario. They also have advertising revenue, which is a straightforward revenue stream.

Throwing back to two paragraphs ago, if they don’t use investors to raise cash, how can they afford to embark on a new expensive project that wouldn’t pay out until the future? Well, they could take out a loan (ew interest), save more money in retained earnings forgoing development in other areas (what do you mean we can’t afford to redo our website?) OR

They could do an 11 million dollar kickstarter! This would allow them to retain ownership of both the company and the product, because kickstarter is essentially just buying really expensive merchandise! People will buy a 30 dollar mug if it also comes with the promise that if enough people do it, they’ll make a tv show. Kickstarter money is revenue, not financing and it’s actually against kickstarter’s rules to promise equity for backers. Instead, kickstarter backers assume the risk that investors take (albeit on a smaller individual scale) with none of the benefit besides knowing that they helped make something exist. Compare this to if I, Callie invested $11 million into CRPLLC.

If the Legend of Vox Machina completely bombs and bankrupts CRPLLC which was kickstarted: CRPLLC would have to sell off all of its assets, resolve its liabilities (pay people for work done before laying them off, pay off bank loans) and whatever is left over would be split between the owners. Do they owe you, the kickstarter backer, for not making the show? Legally no. You chose to give us that money and had to trust we would spend the money well to make a good show and we spent all our money making sure our tree leaf animation looked good and could only afford to make 2 episodes.

If the Legend of Vox Machina completely bombs and bankrupts CRPLLC and it was Calliestarted: It would still be the same, except now Callie, the person who put in a lot of money for this show, is also an owner, and at least gets a slice of that money after the debts are paid off.

If the Legend of Vox Machina is really successful and it’s kickstarted: Good job, you did it! You got a fun tv show and like a t shirt! Fun!

If the Legend of Vox Machina is really successful and it’s Calliestarted: Not only do I get my fun tv show and probably also every piece of merch that exists, I got mad paid as an owner, not just from the show itself, but as we sell more and more merchandise because I’m a part owner of the company. I then continue to make money from literally everything else the company does until I decide to sell my shares or the company goes bankrupt.

And even better news! Amazon Prime bought the streaming rights for two seasons, so now I, Callie, have even more money from that sweet sweet licensing money.

Speaking of which, it is likely that the Amazon Deal is structured as follows: Amazon pays CRPLLC to license LoVM, with the stipulation that kickstarter backers can access the first 10 episodes legally. CRPLLC pays, with Kickstarter and Amazon money, Titmouse Inc. to produce LoVM. CRPLLC makes the difference between what they paid Titmouse (variable cost, depending on ultimate cost of animating) and what Amazon paid them. Amazon makes the difference of what they paid CRPLLC and what they make at market with LoVM. Amazon is the only company that stands to profit directly from the actual product of LoVM doing well. If it does poorly, there’s the possibility it gets cancelled, meaning that CRPLLC (and maybe Titmouse if CRPLLC already commissioned the work from them) will still get paid by Amazon, but never released. It’s possible that other companies could buy the license from Amazon in this scenario. This is the risk of selling your show to another company.

CRPLLC also has one subsidiary and one associated foundation: Darrington Press LLC and The Critical Role Foundation

Darrington Press LLC is an imprint of CRPLLC created to design and produce card and board games with the Critical Role IP. DP has 3 listed employees, Ivan Van Norman as Head of Darrington Press, Darcy L. Ross as Marketing Manager, and Mercer as Creative Advisor. As a subsidiary, it is wholly owned by CRPLLC. DP pays manufacturers and contractors to design and manufacturers games and pays for its own advertising, as a separate entity from CRPLLC. DP will likely sell its products to games distributers and the Critical Role Store. If the Critical Role Store sells DP games it’s because CRPLLC bought them from DP. The relationship between DP and CPRLLC is that when DP makes a profit and pays dividends, the recipient is CPRLLC. If DP goes bankrupt and cannot pay its debts, CPRLLC is not required to pay them. CPRLLC also chooses DP’s Board of Directors, which is probably just the owners of CPRLLC. This is all very ordinary. DP has four announced games set to release in 2021, but as of yet has not released any products or made any revenue.

The Critical Role Foundation is a registered non-profit and legally distinct from CRPLLC with seemingly no employees, with Johnson as President, and 4 other Board Members: Mercer, Lopez, Romero and another person named Mark Koro, who is a figure very closely tied to critical role I will outline later. Lopez and Romero are also in a long-term relationship or perhaps marriage. It is usually considered a bad idea to have two partners on a board of directors, as a conflict of interest can arise easily. As a registered non-profit CRF’s projected breakdown of donations is 85% grants to other non-profits, 10% emergency fund allocation, and 5% admin costs (this would be where possible future employees’ salaries would come from). Board Members on non-profits traditionally don’t take salaries, but can use their role as a board member to calculate donated time as a charitable donation for tax purposes. This all seems pretty normal. It’s not stated if or how much CRPLLC itself donates to CRF, including its initial endowment, besides the donation of free advertising, as no donation matching or any other programs seem to be advertised. In terms of an initial endowment, it seems that the only money put in was immediately spent on filing fees and legal fees, meaning the initial endowment was less than $5000. As a result, CRF operates from donors and possibly is not funded at all by CRPLLC. Any money that is donated from CRPLLC’s profits to CRF would be a charitable donation and lower CRPLLC’s taxable income amount. CRF began collecting non-taxable donations in May 2019, and as of December 8, 2020 CRF has yet to publish their 2019 financial statements, so not much is publicly known of how much money is raised by CRF and if they achieved their desired breakdown.

Now to talk about Mark Koro. Koro is an executive of Governmental Affairs (some places list director and others list VP) at Qualcomm, a telecommunications technology company with an annual profit of $7.67 Billion, and is estimated to make $20 per smartphone sold. Every smartphone. Qualcomm has been sued by China, South Korea, Taiwan, the EU, and the USA for anti-competitive behaviour. Koro’s department of Governmental affairs is responsible for negotiating and bidding with governments for contracts and rights to airwave frequencies, and also lobby and develop proposals for telecommunications legislation and policy. Before this, Koro worked at the National Security Agency in their corporate relations department liaising with defence and intelligence contractors. Before this, he worked in the George H.W. Bush administration as The National Security Advance Representative. This entails preparing logistics and security for Presidential events and dispatching Secret Service Agents to respond to Presidential Threats and continued in this capacity under following administrations until 2008. Koro was also an advisor to The Deputy Director of the NSA (the second highest position in the Intelligence Agency), and was a consultant to The Lawrence Livermore National Library, which is

“self-described as a ‘premier research and development institution for science and technology applied to national security.’ Its principal responsibility is ensuring the safety, security and reliability of the nation’s nuclear weapons through the application of advanced science, engineering, and technology.”

These positions are all listed on Koro’s biography on the The United Nations website for the International Telecommunications Union Radiocommunication Sector (accessed Dec. 8, 2020). Mark Koro has no public associations with Charitable Work.

There is little online about Koro’s association with Critical Role, besides an article stating that Koro, as a fan of the show, in 2016 matched $50,000 worth of donations to 826LA. Koro’s associations with a monopolistic technology company, the NSA, Nuclear Weaponry, and multiple presidential administrations would be cause for alarm for many of CR’s fans, but if it were a purely professional relationship, it could be excused as including him for his business accumen, but Mark Koro is mutuals on twitter with all of the cast members and Brian W Foster, Britney Walloch-Key. This might seem like normal professional courtesy, but there is a lot of interaction between Koro’s account and Critical Role Employees’ personal accounts that reflect at least a close personal relationship between people that he would not interact with regularly just as a board member of a legally distinct organization."

P.S. 100% of Critical Role's Chief Officers are men in relationships with female subordinates.

[thehubby]

Mike I need help. Every single time my players hit town they shop. Even if we had just gotten a bunch of stuff in the last session, and they swore up and down they didn't need *anything else*, they still go immediately to shop for more things and I'm getting frustrated and bored. We just had four weeks worth of sessions like this and I'm at the end of my patience. I had to shut the session down tonight before we even started because I said "we did a lot of shopping yesterday, so why don't we speed that up and leave town since there's nothing else you need." They immediately vetoed the idea and said no, actually, there was stuff they wanted to shop for!! Even though we just spent SIX HOURS shopping and talking to npcs yesterday!! My brain hit a wall and I had to tell them "I'm done, I can't do this anymore."

Help me MikeyWan Kenobi. You're my only hope.

Long post ahead.

I am here for you, Anon. I feel your pain. Actually, that's unfair of me -- I understand your pain but have not experienced it myself because my table of players is very well balanced, and although one or two of them have an affinity for shopping, it's partly my fault for making so many homebrew items and letting them occasionally nab a few from shops. Still, the other players at the table keep them in line and keep the game moving reasonably. It sounds like your entire table (or at least the majority) is driving you crazy in this regard, which is a more difficult challenge.

Here are my suggestions. I can't guarantee that they will work against diehard shopaholics, but this general flow often works for obsessive player behavior in general (murder-hoboing, insistence on lots of combat, refusal to fight, power-playing, and so on). You may tackle any or all of these in whatever order you think will benefit your group. You know your players better than I.

Figure out and understand why your players are doing this. There could be lots of reasons. Some players, particularly long-time veterans (who were often brought up in "Monty Haul" adventures) or raised on modern MMOs and computer RPGs, become driven by the acquisition of items -- to them, if their character isn't adorned like a Christmas tree, they aren't a success. There are also players who have "big spender" syndrome, an actual behavioral condition that exhibits in tabletop and digital RPGS: the player believes that their rise to power and success as a character can only be evidenced when they demonstrate their wealth. Not to put on my Psych 101 hat, but this is sometimes a projection of the player's own worldviews and experiences with wealth (or lack thereof; after all, some people play games like this as an escape from the reality of their own hardships). In addition to staying at upscale inns (if they haven't acquired their own property) and eating fine foods (if they haven't sought out a private chef on retainer), their characters also interact with a lot of shopkeepers, who are generally pleased to see people laden with coin and interested in their wares. I mean, who doesn't like being able to throw around money for the latest glimmering bauble while the sales associate waits ever patiently? But for some, it goes much further, and can be every bit the same pleasure as getting the killing blow on that blue dragon. And finally, some players are really just there for the talking. That's their whole bag. They would be happy putting all their skill points into Diplomacy, Intimidate, Sense Motive and using every stat as a dump except Charisma. It's weird, given the combat-oriented nature of the game, but those people really do exist.

Understanding the motivation behind your player behaviors will give you the best chance of curtailing that behavior in a way that satisfies both you and them.

You said your players vetoed leaving town and immediately said that there were things they wanted to shop for. My question, were I in your shoes and with your level of frustration, would be to ask what such things were, and if the characters had a legitimate need for the items. If the characters know what they are looking for, you as GM can immediately determine if they're available in town, and if they're exotic, perhaps there might be some searching or wheeling and dealing to even find where they are sold. If the players are looking for typical fare like more healing potions or a replacement for those +1 arrows they used up, this is easily handled without a 20 minute chat-fest, especially if it's your third such today. If the players don't know what they want, and just want to see what's available, don't hesitate to ask them why they believe they are ill-equipped for their continuing adventures despite you or NPCs telling them as such.

Such behavior can also be forcibly slowed or even stopped through the world-controlling power you wield as the GM, although if not handled delicately, this can significantly raise tensions at the table. The PCs, having arrived in town after a week subduing trolls in the Sootblack Hills, find that the stores are all but empty of magic items. Even the most basic potions and scrolls are a crapshoot to find; they might scour the entire city in search of any place that even has a magic weapon available? Why? Plenty of reasons. War has broken out, and supplies for every city in a couple hundred miles have been bought up or seized by the warring factions. Perhaps the ruling monarch (or council or whatever) has decreed for unknown reasons that the manufacture and sale of magical items is forbidden, punishable by imprisonment. An ancient order may have been awoken and has begun the theft or destruction of arcane equipment -- except for their own, of course. These turns of events might cause the PCs' own equipment to become even more valuable (or a threat to their safety) -- but any newfound wealth will do them little good with nothing magical to buy. All of these and similar actions are only stop-gaps; eventually, the PCs would be expected to help resolve the war, overthrow the sovereign, defeat the ancient order, or whatever is in their way. And then you're back to where you are now.

Always keep in mind the Wealth By Level restrictions for characters. This represents how much wealth a character possesses at any one time for their level (some GMs take a more stringent view that it represents the total wealth a PC will have accrued by that point in their career, so if the players fritter it away on women and chimichangas, tough noogies.) Characters can only buy things if they have the wealth to do so. Selling items they don't want comes with a steep penalty. Even in great condition, shops rarely pay more than half price for an item due to taxes, restocking fees, how long it might take to sell, and so on. What this ultimately comes down to is that you control just how much these characters can buy and sell. They can only buy items if they have the coin, and they can only get the coin that you give them, or a lesser value for selling items they don't want. Become more stringent with money. At some point, the money runs out, and selling hard-earned loot for half its value stops being so fun. Do you really want to lose effectively 2,000 gold crowns for selling that +2 axe, or do you want to maybe put it to some use and come out more powerful than you would have buying some weaker item with the proceeds? If players decline to ever sell their equipment yet still expect to find new equipment, you can accommodate them by destroying their equipment. Enemies can sunder weapons and armor; a number of spells, magical effects or environmental hazards can deal damage to and potentially break anything exposed to them. This isn't being vengeful; it's being a good GM. [I remember watching Critical Role and over many episodes, perhaps the most traumatic and thrilling experience the players had (apart from character deaths) was when their beloved flying carpet was eaten by acid or lava or something. But it was a natural consequence of their actions, and they took it in stride, as they should.]

Finally, as with all things, you are the law. I always, always recommend talking with your players, either individually or as a table if needed, to tackle either your own frustrations or those of one or more players. But if push comes to shove, it's your game. You (presumably) respect the players by coming up with adventures, scenarios, NPCs, locations and all sorts of other stuff for them to tackle in a manner you expect to be fun. If they refuse to respect your preparation time and the time you spend at the table, by insisting to engage in continuous, pointless NPC discussions despite you expressing your dissatisfaction, then tell them you can't do it anymore. It isn't fun for you, and if the only way that they can have fun is in a way that is directly contradictory to you having fun, the game isn't going to work, period. If they sincerely change, fantastic; try to accommodate their need for shopping when you can and get on with the grand story at other times. If they refuse to change, leave them and get another table. That last part isn't always easy to do, and depending on your area, it might take a while to get another game going, but often a table where you're not having fun (and working hard to do it) is worse than no table at all. I wish you luck.

[leo-interactive-fiction]

So I've been going through your posts since I am really interested in the asks you answer (be it world-building, what if scenarios etc.) and I found the one where the TA ROs played the pocky game, and thought it was really cute. Would you humour me and do it for PoP too? Es quickly became one of my favorite characters EVER and since PoP is a bit of a side project I thought I'd have to be the creaky wheel (is that how that saying goes?) Either way, loving your characters dude!

Haha, it’s true that I don’t really get many PoP asks, but all the characters hold a place in my heart haha. I’m happy you’re able to enjoy what little there is of the characters and the world, as well as all the content provided by this blog. As for the scenario, let’s see...

La: They stare off, folding their arms as they look next to you instead of directly at you, “Are you challenging me? In my own metaphorical dojo? You’re gunna lose. I’m gunna beat you so hard domestic courts will rule in my favor off fear alone.” “I thought you’ve never kissed anyone” “What!” La steps away perturbed, “Pocky and Rocky never had that! It was an arcade shooter! What version have you been playing?!”

Ai: They clap their hands closed delightfully, “That sounds like quite the romantic venture! Shall we go looking for a suitable partner?” Their expression slowly transitions to confusion as you explain you were planning on playing with them. Their moderate smile returns, this time with an abashed quality as they rest a hand on their face in thought, “Oh my, it doesn’t seem my programming took this situation into account! Or perhaps I’m experiencing an error...”

Ki: “Are you sure about this?” their speech is slightly muffled by the edible stick resting in their mouth. From this distance, you can clearly see the resolve begin to crumble along with the rise of a unique blush, which seems to also appear in greyscale on their monochromatic avatar. Before they can think to call it off, you begin the game, though it’s not long until the stick somehow breaks in half. Ki’s expression seems half parts relieved and disappointed.

Es: They seem to be concentrating hard on something on the other side of the room as they talk in their darkly enigmatic way, “I suggest you concede from this battle. It may only end in horrible distruction...” “Are you blushing?” “T-That’s the darkness within my soul yearning to be released! Don’t look, or you may be forever blinded!” They attempt to cover your eyes.

Data: They kick in the air idly as they hover, humming a response to your question, “I guess it could be fun...” As the game starts, you gnaw on your end of the stick. And gnaw. And gnaw. And gnaw. Eventually you look up and find Data on the other end, a smug countenance lighting their face as they continuously spawn more pocky sticks in place of the original. “You had a hungry look in your eyes. Don’t thank me.”

Bl: “A game, is it?” they lift their sunglasses onto their head, glancing at their watch, “It is getting quite late, so only if it’s quick.” You assure them and rapidly explain the rules, sticking the pocky in their mouth and directing them to hold it. Their eyes narrow in skepticism, “I’m sensing some kind of ulterior motive here. Are you trying to use this as leverage to kiss me?” “No--” “You’re lying,” they seem to have found something in your face to confirm their thought, releasing their hold of the snack and returning their gaze to the watch, “I don’t have anymore time today. I’ll see you tomorrow at the same time.” they disappear in a gentle flash of swirling code.

Or: They jump right on the idea with a smile to match their eagerness, “Of course I’ll help, but...” they draw to the same distance the pocky would place you in, though you haven’t yet taken the treat out, “Can you promise me something...?” “A promise?” They hide a small chuckle behind closed fingers, “If I play your game, then you have to play mine. Fair is fair. Do you promise...?”

Thank ya for the ask! It’s always fun to return to these characters haha

[owlsbride]

Icha Icha and Prejudice: The Book Club

Chapter IV: That Inner Voice

Eleven o'clock in the morning and Sakura was already upset. It was her first official vacation day, and it didn't start it as she had hoped. She had planned to sleep late, wake up in the most glorious and easy possible way with the felling of a long needy rested body. After all, she had to realise that Shizune and the Hokage were right, she needed to rest for a while, she was reaching the limits of her strength, and like this, she wasn't going to last long. So even if she was still a bit mad about the resolution, she finally came to terms with it, and it was ok.

What she has not been able to imagine was that after her furious outburst in the Hokage Tower, yesterday night, she would find herself immersed in a crazy game that Kakashi planned in less than a minute just to annoy her, disturb her, and of course, tease her. Dammed, he was smart. God, she hated that man.

'Yeah, tell yourself that till you believe it.'

Suddenly, she repeated Kakashi's recent message in her mind with a highly pitchy tone. It was not her sensei's voice, though.

'Hello there, Sakura.'

So she was back. After years of silence, her bitchy inner Sakura's voice came back to torment her mind and life. She turned on the bed, sinking her head in the pillow ready to grumble, and silent a scream of fury trying to escape from her frustrating throat. Perfect timing for the remarkable comeback. Perfect timing.

After her teen years, Sakura, under the Godaime tutelage, decided that inner Sakura was no longer necessary. She was pretty capable of analysing all the facts in front of her as well as her feelings, thoughts and attitudes, she no longer needed her alter ego to push her to act in this or that way, nor to show her the right path when she was lost. Generally, the correct direction of the inner Sakura was always the wrong one, but that she had only been able to see it after her failed attempt of relationship with Sasuke or any other man in the village.

The inner Sakura was impulsive, arrogant, prejudiced, and without a doubt much more daring than Sakura herself, and that did not suit her.

So, one morning, and just like that, the work, stress and the effort to make her inner voice disappeared went straight to the trash been, cause she was loudly back.

'Don't tell me that you didn't miss me.' the voice in her head said almost sad.

"No, I didn't. Not even a tiny bit." Great, now Sakura was talking to herself out loud.

'You are harsh with both of us, Sakura'

"No, I'm not. I worked hard for you to shut up, so, please..." Sakura pleaded.

'And yet, here I am.'

"What do you want?"

'The question is, what Do You want' annoying or not, inner Sakura's question was accurate and sharp. What was what she wanted?

"Arghh... fine! If you are here to stay, I hope, at least, for you to be useful."

'I'm all yours. Now get up, girl, we have things to do.'

Sakura finally accepted that the voice was back and resolved to went through everything with her in her mind. She didn't have much of an option, cause apparently, inner Sakura was not going to disappear any time soon. It was better to have a good relationship with her mind at this moment. Three weeks off was too much to think on her own. Maybe she had called her back. Perhaps it was a coping mechanism to go through her own personal hell with Icha Icha. Inner Sakura could be much more helpful with her sharp, bold thoughts. She was a natural teaser and a skilful trickster at times. She was the not so innocent part of her mind that incited thoughts that Sakura preferred to suppress. The inner Sakura's silence was what had allowed her not to have sex in all this time, putting all her libido in her work, making her see each man who passed by the hospital as an object of study and not as a possible good laid. Except maybe for Kakashi.

Hatake Kakashi, the Rokudaime, her Lord Sixth, her eternal sensei. The very same, that when he got sick or came back injured from a mission, he just wanted to be cared for by her. The one used to listen to her ramblings every day about new ideas, supporting all her projects. The one that one way or another was always by her side. Kakashi, the man with silver hair who aroused the entire village's curiosity and sighs even though no one, not even her, knew what was under the mask. The same man who could be severe enough to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, but who also read Icha Icha in public and even dared to flirt with her without shame or openness.

'You're so into him.' Inner Sakura spoke again suppressing a laugh.

"Oh please, It's not like that." Sakura dismissed her.

'How long are you going to live in denial, Sakura?'

"What do you mean?"

'Can't you see it for your own?'

"No..."

'Thank god I'm here then.'

Sakura stopped the conversation with her inner self because she really needed a cup o coffee first. She had spent the first hours of her morning texting with Kakashi and talking to herself, and it was already exhausting. How was she supposed to survive both of them? Passing by her living room to the kitchen, Sakura directed her view to the orange book on the table. Sooner or later, she would have to start reading. But first thing first: Breakfast.

After almost half an hour, Sakura finally was ready to face her destiny and her thoughts.

'Are you ready?' Inner Sakura was jumping all over her mind like a child in a kermesse.

"I guess..." Sakura answered nervously sitting in her couch, crouching her legs and taking the book in her hands.

'Imagine the things he had done with that book' Her mind was torturous libidinous.

"Let's just don't think about it, ok?"

'Oh, come on, don't act as if you were a virgin Sakura... Just imagine, the shower, the couch, the bed...'

"Please, don't be grossed" Sakura answered blushing deeply. Something burning was forming inside of her, and she was sure it wasn't just her chakra.

'You slut, you have already thought about that. You are so hot with him.' Inner Sakura was celebrating.

"Shut up."

Chapter I: The sunset. The light was slowly extinguishing on the cornfields making the shadows that were projected throughout the space even more orange. The summer rain's soft scent had left a persistent sweet aroma mixed with the lavenders that were only a few meters from where she was standing. The heat and humidity created a soft layer of sweat on her body, mixing her own body scent with that of her surroundings. She knew that she must have run away as soon as she saw him arriving at the village. Instead, she only could make it to the cornfield, a familiar place for both of them.

So cliche, Sakura thought with a grin on her face. She was sure that Kakashi was having it way harder than her. Though she had to recognise that even if Jiraiya didn't have Jane Austen's prose, it wasn't that bad. So far, it was an easy, perfectly innocent reading.

'Really Sakura? is that what you are thinking? A neat prose?' Inner Sakura jumped in her mind again a bit upset because up to now Sakura wasn't able to find nothing too thrilling in the first pages. Sakura didn't pay her any attention and kept reading, she was starting to relax about this whole thing of Kakashi's little obsession. It wasn't that bad.

He followed her without hesitation. He knew he would find her staring at the horizon, waiting for the night breeze to cool her feverish skin. She had always liked to feel the summer wind run across her ivory skin, bristling the hair on her arms, making her shiver. Her tousled hair floating freely, like her thoughts. He knew he would find her there, and right there, he would claim her just for himself.

Sakura sighed, the things were already starting to heat up but in a really smooth and slow path. The Sannin knew how to build tension and, what she heard Ino said once, a good slow-burn romance scenario. Inner Sakura was in silence, and she was immensely enjoying the reading. Actually, she was starting to think that she could spend the entire day at home reading. After all, it wasn't that hard.

Bzzzzzt Bzzzzt Bzzzzt

Sakura looked for her cellphone. Inner Sakura was already starting to complain about the interruption, but she suddenly stopped.

Bzzzzzt Bzzzzt Bzzzzt

18:30 H.Kakashi: Yo!

18:30 H.Kakashi: What are you doing, Sakura?

Sakura didn't know if to answer and play difficult, Inner Sakura was highly excited about those short, silly messages. Of course, Sakura answered, she had to follow the inner lead.

18:32: Hello, Sensei

18:32: Reading, you?

Sakura didn't come back to the book. She just fixed her stare in the device in her hand.

Bzzzzzt Bzzzzt Bzzzzt

18:35: H.Kakashi: And?

Kakashi wasn't going to answer her, she was sure. She would have to give him something first. She knew her sensei like the palm of her hand.

18:36: It's ok so far

Bzzzzzt Bzzzzt Bzzzzt

18:36 H.Kakashi: What?

18:36 H.Kakashi: Just ok?

18:37 H.Kakashi: Do you even know how to read, Sakura?

Sakura burst to laugh out loud in her home alone. He was such a spoiled child.

18:40: Yes Hokage Sama, it's ok, I haven't read much yet.

18:40: What about you? Working? Reading?

Bzzzzzt Bzzzzt Bzzzzt

18:41 H.Kakashi: Actually, both.

18:41: And?

Bzzzzzt Bzzzzt Bzzzzt

18:42 H.Kakashi: Work, awful, reading, quite interesting.

18:42 H.Kakashi: Tell me, Sakura, is it possible?

Sakura asked herself what was he talking about, Inner Sakura, invited to re questioned him.

18:45: What?

Bzzzzzt Bzzzzt Bzzzzt

18:46 H.Kakashi: To have five daughters and take care of all of them, in a simple civilian life, plus a wife and listen to them all the time talking without a stop

Sakura laughed again.

18:47: So... You are feeling bad for the poor Mr Benett, right?

Bzzzzzt Bzzzzt Bzzzzt

18:47 H.Kakashi: Who wouldn't...

18:48 H. Kakashi: Listen Sakura...

And for a moment he didn't say anything more.

18:55: What now?

Bzzzzzt Bzzzzt Bzzzzt

18:55 H.Kakashi: Would you like to have dinner? Unless you already have plans. We don't need to talk about the books, in fact, we don't have to talk at all

Sakura stood frozen. What was wrong with him. Even if it was just a simple text, she could read need in his words.

'Don't you dare to say no' Inner Sakura adverted, forming a fist with her imaginary hand.

19:00: Rough day?

Bzzzzzt Bzzzzt Bzzzzt

19:00 H. Kakashi: You can't imagine.

Sakura smiled.

19:01: Then you'll have to tell me.

[rpgsandbox]

‘I do believe in fairies! l do! I do!’

Peter Pan - J.M. Barrie

Experiencing visions of a mythical land throughout your childhood, you are suddenly transported to the Inspirisles, a kingdom ruled by the fey. Responsible for a pact made long ago by your ancestors, you must now earn Belief and the respect of their gods or find yourself trapped there forever.

INSPIRISLES is a completely original tabletop RPG aimed at teenagers. It will promote empathy, life skills and deaf awareness with an emphasis on teamwork and creativity.

Play as teens gifted extraordinary powers.

Meet famous characters and fearsome monsters from Celtic folklore.

Work together to heal a crumbling land and restore a fractured kingdom.

Learn British/American Sign Language as you cast spells and solve puzzles.

Become apprentices to the gods.

Offer Belief to earn your tickets home.

This project came about after running my teen Dungeons & Dragons group Hatchlings for over a year. I wanted to create something for them. Something they could have a hand in building. And something I could take beyond the group to use in schools and communities as a workshop model. Inspirisles is the result of this, a game for young players that reflects my interest in folklore and my ongoing work with the deaf community.

Though Inspirisles is aimed at children, it can be enjoyed equally by adults and we are especially encouraging parents, educators and tabletop beginners to invest in our game. Many of us have fond memories of 80s fantasy classics such as The NeverEnding Story & Labyrinth. Inspirisles aims to capture some of that nostalgic magic and transport its older participants back to a more carefree and imaginative time.

                         Standard & Limited Edition book mock-ups

A5 premium-colour hardback with over 150 pages of material, including...

History of the islands and their Friends.

Creating your Foundling character.

Collection of spell, ability & item cards and the tools to invent your own.

A host of worldbuilding ideas & mechanics to breathe life into your quests, including using the arts in roleplaying, creating challenging environmental puzzles, alternative ways to earn Belief, rules for Inspired apprenticeships, exploration, downtime & Doom.

Scriv’s Tour: Follow the famous bard as she journals the key locations & personalities you will encounter during your adventures.

Scriv’s Story: Fiction retelling the moment our bard met Athelyn for the first time (Limited Edition only).

Menagerie of monsters from Celtic folklore & the tools to invent your own.

Starter adventure: ‘Duster Trials’.

Stunning art from cover to cover, including maps for locations and encounters.

Two page spread of Josh Somerville’s spectacular knot art (Limited Edition only).

Dyslexia friendly fonts throughout to prioritise accessibility.

Handouts: Blank character sheet, Shaping alphabet (BSL & ASL), milestone certificates & Grail template.

* terms in bold explored below.

                    Page sample by Anna Urbanek of Double Proficiency

Belief is the keystone of the Inspirisles. The energy binding all things. In its absence, the land and its children would fade from life and from memory.

If Belief were to run dry, it would have terrible repercussions. Imagine something calamitous like Earth’s polar caps suddenly melting or electricity disappearing from the globe overnight.

Though Belief is generated through such things as exploration, the arts, work and even battle, these pale in comparison to the amount collected from human children.

As children believe in magic less and less, the inhabitants of the Inspirisles must come up with new and increasingly creative ways to convince them otherwise.

Belief gathered from Earth is taken to the World Tree and released over its roots. This energy then spreads throughout the land, healing the foundations of the islands.

                                                          Shaping

A place where the gods walk freely, where dragons are hunted for hoarding Belief, where a war rages between Friends, where reforging an ancient sword can reforge a kingdom, where sign language is used to cast spells, where there is no death, only Disbelief, and where heroes rise and fall together.

It is also a setting to reflect the struggles of our own world. You’ll find environmental calamity, political greed and social injustice to name but a few. Making Inspirisles relatable to our future generations was an ambition from the very start. However, we would never want to push an agenda, so building a platform for whichever stories need to be told has been our sole responsibility.

                                                       Hibernation

Our system and its mechanics are entirely built around the theme of Belief. Players must work together to collect this wondrous commodity, reaching the heights before deciding whether to stay and enjoy the renown or return home and reunite with their true families.

Moving away from systems found in many popular tabletop RPGs, Inspirisles is largely aimed at young adults and does away with traditional mechanics such as racial bonuses, class systems, ponderous combat and even death.

Though our players should expect an open, sandbox experience, it’s nice to have an overall goal in mind. As such, the concept of healing the land as a team for rewards and progression is at the heart of Inspirisles.

As with any roleplaying game, Inspirisles will throw challenges at its players. As well as social and environmental encounters, Foundlings (players) will inevitably come across familiar monsters of Celtic legend, such as the Questing Beast who will stalk them across the land. Within the book, you’ll also discover many nasties of our own invention and the tools to invent your own.

                                                  Don’t go it alone!

                                                        Attributes

Foundlings will have six attributes: sword, shield, speed, smarts, social & survival. When facing obstacles, they can lay down up to three cards representing spells, abilities or items. These cards display unique properties that will have an impact on their attribute bonus. Players then roll 2d6, adding the attribute bonus plus any additions from the cards. If the obstacle they are facing is truly perilous, they may turn to their Grail Pool as a last resort, a resource only carried by Foundlings.

                                     Sample obstacle resolution

Obstacles can include social interactions, puzzles, environmental challenges and battle. Whether the obstacle is resolved through roleplay or combat, if it requires a check, it is always contested between player and Grail Guide (Game Master).

With every failed encounter and instead of suffering injury or death, Foundlings will instead experience Disbelief. If too much Disbelief is accumulated as a group, players must pull together to reduce it using the Belief they may be saving for a rank or new cards. This balancing act encourages empathy between participants, but also prevents Doom from affecting the islands.

                                                Puzzles & predators

                        Guinevere & Arthur, our Grail Guide choices

Our version of a Game Master is called the Grail Guide (GG). A participating adult or teenager will take on the role of GG and become the spirit of King Arthur Pendragon or Queen Guinevere. It will be their task to guide the players on their journey, making decisions on the rules, lending voice to the citizens and fangs to the denizens, and encouraging everyone to work together, share the limelight and have fun.

As the GG, you also have the unique opportunity to gift your players their Grail Pool, a set of polyhedral dice (d4, d6, d8, d10, d12 & d20). Foundlings are the only beings able to carry this water poured from the Holy Grail. Even a sip will offer them an edge when facing the greatest of challenges and most dangerous of foes.

Talking of the Grail, with the book will be a template for the holy vessel that GG’s can cutout before sessions. This prop is then placed in the centre of the playing space and can be flipped whenever a player finds a theme or scenario too difficult. The GG can then move on swiftly without disrupting the overall session.

                                                        Safety tool

It is also the responsibility of the GG to add tension and peril to the experience. If their players accumulate too much Disbelief, they can consult a Doom chart. This will change the Inspirisles in dramatic ways, such as causing a volcano to erupt, introducing the Questing Beast to hunt Foundlings, having Excalibur seized by an enemy or building a troll bridge on the outskirts of a city.

                                                        Spelunking

As a player, you take on the role of Foundling, a human teen drawn by fate to the islands. Instead of selecting a race or class, Foundlings are trained by one of eight fey clans, otherwise known as Friends. The Knockers, Glow, Wyrmbitten, Capra, Piskies, Giantheld and Bucca populate distinct locations from city to forest, tin mine to tundra. Seven of these races work tirelessly to restore Belief and prevent the collapse of the Inspirisles. Whilst the eighth, an exiled people known as Glimmers refuse to help, sheltered far beneath the surface where the cracks go unseen and the tremors unfelt.

                                                        Friends

As a Foundling, once Belief is gathered, it can be used in 3 distinct ways...

Pilgrimage to Avalon where the World Tree sits. Belief is offered to its roots in exchange for training.

Patronage to the Inspired. Belief is offered in exchange for spells.

Provide for the community they were embraced by. Belief is offered in exchange for items.

Regardless of how Foundlings offer Belief, they will earn the favour of the ruling houses and feel their reputation and power grow.

                                           Foundling character sheet

The Inspired are the closest thing the islands have to deities. Their influence can be felt across the kingdom at all times and ultimately players will need to impress them if they are to return home.

As well as being great teachers of magic in the form of Shaping, they have trades in their homelands, allowing Foundling players to become apprentices and earn Belief through hard work and dedication.

Kilna of the Fire has his forge.

Egrain of the Earth has her vinyard.

Athelyn of the Water has their bath house.

Vorm of the Air has his skyship.

                                                    The Inspired

Travelling via All’s Well, a mysterious portal leading to the British Isles, on their 15th birthdays, the brightest and bravest Foundlings are sent Earthwards to collect Belief. These elite are known as Dusters.

With the help of a Wellwisher, a common mammal transformed by Athelyn to be more like you and I, Dusters will be guided to a child without Belief, a teenager struggling to feel magic in their life.

Players will then roll a six-sided Dusting Dice (d6), revealing the target child’s particular sensitivity. 1: Fear 2: Joy 3: Wonder 4: Help 5: Story and (6: Other - determined by GG). Through roleplaying this sensitivity, Foundlings must convince the child that magic exists before collecting their Belief to take back.

                                                      Wellwisher

                                    BSL alphabet by british-sign.co.uk

As well as speaking the common tongue for the sake of interactions with humankind, the fey use a form of sign language they believe communicates right to the heart.

The technique is known as Shaping, a term derived from the hand and finger movements used and a deeper meaning of shaping the world around them. Spells are solely expressed through Shaping, with gestures building energy before being released from the fingertips.

Spells are taught only by the Inspired. Only they know the deeper intricacies of the language necessary to harness magic.

Though optional, we are introducing British Sign Language (BSL) and Sign Supported English (SSE) into our game. We are using it as part of the spellcasting process and to solve some of the setting’s most challenging puzzles, encouraging our young players to learn the alphabet and more as they play.

When you back our core book, whether digitally or physically, you will gain access to a video workshop on the art of Shaping produced by our friends in the deaf community. Whilst not a comprehensive introduction to British Sign (see Stretch Goals), it will teach participants enough to encourage them to pursue the language beyond the game.

The core book will also come with an American Sign Language (ASL) alphabet sheet. The video tutorial unlocks through a stretch goal.

Kickstarter campaign ends: Mon, August 17 2020 12:00 AM BST

Website: Hatchlings

[bluerosesburnblue]

You know what it’s always a good time for?

Dwyn Sibling Angst

(This one’s a big one so I’m putting the explanation under the cut)

So who remembers the Patronus sidequest?

Way, way back when I posted that first ever bio of Jacob and Seren I made brief mention of Patronuses, namely what theirs would be and the fact that Seren would not be able to cast it unless Jacob was found alive. I later made brief mention that I’d finalized the Patronuses to a Sea Lion for Jacob and a Common Seal for Seren, but I never actually elaborated on why Seren would have trouble with the spell

That’s because I started this stupid, elaborate project back when the quest came out and just never finished it, so here we go. Let’s finally talk about Seren’s Patronus issues

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I have this tendency when applying sidequests to Seren to just make up my own timeline that’s completely divorced from both what year the quest claims it takes place in and what year I actually ended up playing it in. In the case of Unleash Your Patronus, I actually do put it in Year 4 like the game suggests and not Year 5 when I played it

The Patronus Charm, as far as we know, has three requirements: strong magical skill, a “worthy” heart, and the ability to muster up and sustain a happy memory

Pass, pass, hard fail

Seren is not a happy person. I wouldn’t even say she’s a positive person. If it looks like she’s being positive, it is almost always performative to try and ease someone else’s nerves. This girl is a giant ball of nerves that gets angstier and more traumatized every year and she cannot shut her emotions off. Not that she can’t be happy, she can, but it’s far from her default state since the anxiety tends to run through worst case scenarios all the time

Complicating things is that her happiest memories are all things involving Jacob, who is decidedly not there. The reason I set this in Year 4 is because we don’t even have the Forest Vault message that he’s in the next Vault yet. He could legitimately be dead for all anyone knows in Year 4. So positive memories are of Jacob which, oops, reminds her that he’s still gone. Which then triggers the worst case scenario machine that is her brain

So, alright, let’s assume that Seren manages to shove that down. She’s just focusing on the memory, maybe even repeating “I’m gonna find him and we’re gonna do that thing from our childhoods again” to keep from getting distracted. Cue the actual form of Seren’s Patronus

I picked the Common Seal and Sea Lion for the Dwyns for a variety of reasons. I was already giving them the same Animagus form, figured I’d switch it up for the Patronuses. Make them “related” and symbolizing similar things, but not the same (also reference that merperson heritage). I’ve also always been a fan of the idea that sometimes particularly strong memories can shape the Patronus thanks to the fact that sometimes people with an obsession with an animal have their Patronuses take that form, and then there’s this quote:

"[...] the Patronus often mutates to take the image of the love of one's life (because they so often become the 'happy thought' that generates a Patronus)."

And now we have the earliest memory Seren has. She’s three years old and Jacob’s eight. They go to the aquarium. It’s one of the few times they’ve ever gone out somewhere as a family and she’s just completely enamored with the whole thing. She really falls in love with how cute and graceful the seals are, to the point where she spends part of the trip after they’ve moved closer to the gift shop camped out with the seal plushies just... looking at ‘em. Jacob notices and convinces their parents to buy her one. It’s her absolute favorite toy as a kid, and one of the few things she brings to Hogwarts every year, without fail

It’s not a memory she thinks of much. It wasn’t even the memory she was using to call forth her Patronus, despite being her first happy memory. And yet, there it is, played out in front of her in a brilliant light show. This time, though, Jacob isn’t there. Fighting down the instinct to whirl around and show it to him is just another reminder that he hasn’t been found yet and may never be and what if he isn’t-

-and it’s gone.

So even if Seren manages to fight through her natural tendency to make everything worse in her head, what her Patronus looks like will just send her spiraling right back into it. And once she sees it the first time - that’s it. Now she knows what her Patronus is and dreads seeing it again so much that she can’t focus on anything else when casting it. A dread that’s strong enough that she wouldn’t be able to muster up even an incorporeal Patronus

That’s why she just can’t cast a Patronus unless Jacob’s found alive, and mentally sound, and noooooot evil

If the Vault situation isn’t resolved with a happy ending, that’s all permanent. Jacob’s evil, Jacob dies, whatever, that’s an automatic no Patronus at all. If that incident from Year 6 Chapter 18 is real and permanent but Jacob’s fine, that gives her the most inconsistent incorporeal Patronus at best and the only reason it can manifest at all is because it’s form has no ties to the spoiler character so the dread factor is gone

The best timeline will probably result in Seren being able to cast an incorporeal Patronus consistently, a corporeal Patronus fairly consistently in low-pressure scenarios, and managing to find a workaround regarding a corporeal Patronus by having Jacob just send his most terrible jokes at her via Legilimency in high-pressure situations. Even in the best case scenario, she still struggles with maintaining positivity and is riding solely on her support network

I let her become an Animagus at age 15, I had to give her some weaknesses. (Relatedly, she also struggles with Riddikulus and can only perform it consistently due to intense practice thanks to the Vault of Fear)

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

Furthermore, Jacob and Seren’s Patronuses are what they are because:

Seals and Sea Lions tend to get shoved together when searching for symbolism. A Patronus represents the “hidden inner self” that is called forth in times of need. So then I have to come up with something that can represent both Jacob and Seren, but being just different enough to represent the nuances between their personalities.

Common traits associated with them are playfulness (more overt with Jacob, but Seren is still mischievous and can be goofy), creativity/big imagination (extremely applicable to both of them), adaptability (which goes hand-in-hand with their creative aspects), faith (normally self-faith. Seren lacks it so perhaps this symbolizes what she needs to develop. Both have faith in others), independence, and balance (with the two finding balance with each other, losing it, then regaining it later in life)

To separate them I looked at behavior. Seren gets the Common Seal due to their quiet nature and tendency to remain largely solitary. The introverted one

Jacob gets the Sea Lion because they’re LOUD and DON’T EVER STOP BEING LOUD and prefer being in larger groups. The (somewhat more) extroverted one

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Finally, here’s the still .png for the key frame in the .gif with the Patronus in it because I liked it a lot

And there it is. The big Patronus explanation writeup. I’m so glad it’s done

I started this damn thing after I finished the Patronus quest. Like, the day after or even the day of. And then I stopped for some reason! And then a few months ago I was like “hey, that was almost done and Dementors are coming back into the story, why not finish it?” Didn’t get it done in time for that update. And then that update was Year 6 Chapter 18 and I lost all motivation I had

So here! Fine! Happy one year and one day anniversary of when the Patronus sidequest came out!

Now please take this thing out of my sight

[thistreasurehunter]

Project Earplugs (Part 3)

Summary: Snippets from The Pogues’ WhatsApp messages. John B live-texts film night and gathers evidence, while Pope turns to fan fiction for inspiration.

(Implied future Kie/Pope. Implied future JJ/Reader. This is set in a slight AU – the reader has always been one of the Pogues and none of the events of season 1 have taken place.)

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the Outer Banks characters or settings.

*************************************************

Project Earplugs Group Chat

John B: Well, the movie’s just gone on.

John B: They claimed the sofa – obviously – so I’m in the chair and can text freely where they can’t see

John B: Not that they’d notice anyway

John B: They’re currently having a discussion about camera angles and POV shots

John B: Btw, JJ turned up with a singed eyebrow!?

John B: Now they’re talking about the female gaze

John B: #flirtyfilmnerds

Kie: Seriously JB, don’t feel the need to live-text the whole night. They’re our friends too, we know what they’re like. We literally see them act like this all the time.

John B: No, I think I should! It’s like collecting evidence!

John B: Like, if ever they find out about our meddling, we can present them with all these examples of their repressed love for each other and why we were just helping open their oblivious little eyes

Pope: That’s not a bad idea actually.

Pope: We should flag this stuff so we can easily find it later

Kie: I thought you were supposed to be writing your essay.

Pope: I am, you’re both distracting me.

John B: EVIDENCE – she’s got her feet in his lap now

Pope: I thought you were helping your dad?!

John B: Have you ever heard of a game called flicker-wacker? They’ve mentioned it about 5 times so far

Pope: Kie?

Kie: Break’s over, gotta go – the tips don’t earn themselves! 😊

John B: They’re mostly watching the film now

John B: Oh, but wait!

John B: EVIDENCE – he’s started, sort of, rubbing her feet! Bit like a lowkey massage. They’re still both watching the movie

John B: I’m gonna try and get a covert photo

John B sent a photo

Pope: photographic evidence – nice touch!

Pope: So, I’ve been doing a bit of research – according to the internet, this appears to be a “friends to lovers” situation and there seems to be several different ways this arc can be resolved.

John B: Newsflash Pope! Reading Sherlock fanfic is not research!

Pope: Shut up!

Pope: Also, it can be

John B: EVIDENCE – pretty sure I just heard her moan a little

John B: Again, what happened with the essay?

Pope: Guys, enough with the nagging – I did a solid 20 minutes, now I’m having a break

John B: Just looking out for our brainiac - #weheartpopesscholarshipsuccess

Pope: Okay, well thanks, I guess

Pope: Anyway, a few scenarios I’ve come across so far are: fake dating, sharing body warmth to stop hypothermia, making one jealous of a potential new love interest, accidental/forced bed sharing, platonically raising a baby they get joint responsibility of somehow, sex or die and soulmate au. There are probably more, I’m still looking

Pope: Guys…?

Pope: Why’ve you gone quiet?

John B: Um, okaaay.

John B: Tbh, not what I was expecting you to say

Pope: Oh. Like how?

John B: Still processing

John B: I don’t even know what some of these things are

Pope: Which?

John B: Um, the last two for a start 🤨

Pope: I’ll send you a few links

Pope attached links

John B: Is this really the kind of stuff you read? I thought you read proper books?

Pope: Again, shut up. Don’t fan shame me. It’s completely okay to enjoy reading fanfic as well as ‘intellectual’ books!

Kie: 100% agree.

Kie: I’m just more intrigued about how we’ll be able to facilitate a soulmate au to get them together?

Kie: Or how either of them could get so cold they’re at risk of hypothermia, in summer in the OBX?

Kie: Or where the surprise baby will come from!?

John B: Maybe you two could have a kid, make them godparents, then die tragically, leaving your beautiful defenseless baby in their incompetent hands?

Kie: Um, that really would be playing the long game

Kie: Also, we’d end up dead, so not the best possible outcome thanks!

Pope: Also, we’d definitely want our baby to be raised by one or both sets of our parents

John B: Bit of a serious reaction to a joke there, dude

John B: At least you know Pope has a plan for if ever that did happen Kie! 🤣

Pope: Eugh, maybe I should go back to my essay!

John B: hahahaha

John B: EVIDENCE – she’s just got up for a drink and trailed her fingers through his hair on the way past

Kie: The jealousy idea isn’t too bad.

Kie: We could probably pull something off along those lines at the Boneyard kegger tomorrow

John B: Actually, that does sound do-able

Pope: See, my suggestions weren’t that stupid after all

Kie: Debatable

John B: Dude, do you know one of the links you sent me was about tentacle porn?

Pope: Um, was it? I wonder how that managed to get there? Well, yeah, just ignore that one

John B:  😂

John B: hahahaha! Sheepish much!

John B: EVIDENCE – They’ve moved position on the sofa and he’s now got his arm around her shoulders and she’s resting her head on his chest

John B: Conclusive evidence, if you ask me.

[athenagc94]

Gust and Piper - Beginnings Pt. 6

Hey fellas. It’s been awhile. Life has been crazy and I’ve been on a D&D kick recently, so inspiration has been hard to come by, but here’s the latest portion of the story. Please enjoy!

You can read the first the other parts here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

I’m also posting the story here on AO3!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you just about done?”  

Ginger hummed in response as she continued threading Gust’s hair into an intricate braid.  She’d found a new style and wanted to practice it on him.  As usual, he was unable to refuse.  “Why the rush?” She grabbed another section of his hair and pulled it tightly into place.  He winced.  “It’s not like you plan on going anywhere.”

Gust glanced down at his watch.  “Actually, I have plans this evening.”

“Oh really? I don’t think working on the harbor project counts as plans.”

“I’m actually meeting people at the Round Table this evening.”  Ginger’s fingers stilled.  Gust sucked in a breath through his teeth.  He’d been hoping to keep this information to himself, but as time ticked on, the antsier he got.  “Piper invited me to play games at the Round Table with her and Sam and I’m in a good mood, so,” he shrugged, trying to play it off, “I agreed to join them.  It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal,” Ginger echoed, “Not a big deal?  I don’t think you’ve made plans with anyone besides Albert since coming back to Portia.  This is a huge deal.”  Gust rolled his eyes.  He anticipated this kind of reaction, which is why he hadn’t planned on saying anything.

“It’s not,” Gust said firmly, “we’re just playing darts.”

“That’s what it starts out with, but soon you’ll be having lunch dates or getting invited to parties!” Ginger said as she continued working diligently on his hair, “I’m so happy to see you putting yourself out there and having fun.”  She sighed wistfully.  “My darling brother is finally making friends. I’m so proud.”

“If anything, I’ve made an enemy,” Gust snorted, “Sam looked like she wanted to smack me when I threw the game.  Arlo was about ready to hold her back.”

Ginger giggled.  “What’s wrong with a little friendly competition?”  She pushed his head forward so she had better access to the nape of his neck.  “You have no idea how happy this news makes me.”

Gust drummed his fingers against the top of his knees. He hated this.  In Atara, he’d been charming, charismatic even.  He could hold a conversation and his free evenings were spent galavanting about the town with friends.  He was someone completely different in Atara, but even then, it hadn’t really been him.  It was an act.  Beneath the thin veneer, he was still a bitter and angry teenager who’d run away from home.  When he came back to Portia, there was no mask to hide behind.  Everyone already knew who he really was.  There was no pretending, so why should he try?

“Are you almost done?”

Ginger sighed.  “You know,” she said softly, “you don’t have to close me out.  I know you feel guilty because you weren’t here while I was growing up, but that doesn’t matter to me.”  She finished off the rest of the braid and smoothed a few of the wispy flyaways.  “All that matters to me is that you’re here now.”

Gust swallowed thickly.  He didn’t want to talk about this.  Not now.  “I guess.”

Another sigh.  “I want you to be happy Gust.  I really do.”  She tied off the end of his braid and let her hands fall to his shoulders.  He stiffened under her touch.  “I’ve only ever wanted your happiness.  I hope you can find it here, but I know that’s hard for you right now.  Just know, I’m on your side.  I always have been.”

Gust let out a shaky breath.  He knew Ginger was on his side.  He knew she supported him and loved him.  Her actions always reflected that.  But hearing her say it out loud was different.  It made his heart swell in his chest.  “I know you have.”

“Good.” She gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze. “So please, go find some happiness out there.”

↢↢↢↣↣↣

Gust hated dirty things.  He also hated getting dirty.  Throughout his life, he tried his hardest to avoid situations where he would encounter either scenario.  And for the most part, he’d been successful.  Yet, here he was, combing through fields of wildflowers on his hands and knees of his own free will. In past years, finding hibiscus flowers was an easy task.  He’d stroll towards the waterfall, find a nice patch, and pick a small bouquet.  It would take a half hour out of his day total.

This year, he hadn’t been so lucky.  He’d searched the hills around Bassanio Heights for at least two hours and so far he hadn’t found anything.  It was more than a little disheartening and panic started to fester in his chest. He blew his bangs out of his eyes with an irritable huff and settled back on his knees.  His hair had fallen out of its braided coif an hour ago and he was covered in dirt.  He grimaced down at his disheveled appearance.

His heart ached as he regarded the rolling hills around him.  The Harbor Project had eaten up a lot of his free time. That mixed with the game nights he now attended every week left very little down time. This afternoon was the first time in weeks he had the time to come out and pick flowers for his mother.  It was late into the season, but he figured there’d still be something left for him to find.  Perhaps he’d missed his chance and the mere notion made him want to cry.  Even now, years later, he was a poor excuse for a son.

“Gust? What are you doing out here?”

Gust pulled himself from his thoughts just as Piper stepped off the lift that led to Bassanio Heights.  She had a sack filled with Light-knows-what slung over her shoulder as she approached him.  Whatever it was, it oozed from the bottom of the bag.  His lip curled as he pushed himself off the ground and tried to brush the dirt from his slacks.  Now that she was closer, he saw the dry blood crusting her lower lip and the dark purple bruise forming along her hairline.  

“You look terrible,” he noted, “are you alright?”

Her fingers ghosted over the cut on her lip.  She tried to hide her wince with a breathy chuckle, but he saw it all the same.  “Oh this? I’ve had worse,” she said nonchalantly,  “I needed some supplies that’s only found in the abandoned factory and I finally had some free time to venture up there to get it.  I forget how nasty those bandirats can get, but I handled it.”

“Are you sure?  I can go get Dr. Xu?”

He took a tentative step towards town, but she waved him off.  “No need, I have a few healing salves back at my workshop.  I’ll patch myself up when I get home.”  She adjusted the sack on her shoulder and he heard the squelch of something organic within.  He grimaced.  “But you never answered my question,” she continued with a tilt of her head, “what brings you this far up the hill?  Kinda out of your workzone, don’t you think?”

Gust shrugged, “I was looking for Hibiscus flowers,” he admitted.

“Never took you for a flower guy.”

He smiled thinly. “I guess I’m full of surprises.”

Piper chuckled, but it sounded tight.  “Fair,” she said, “have you found any?”

Gust shook his head.  “They normally grow around these parts this time of year,” he explained, “But I can’t find any this year for some reason.”

“Do you need help?”  

Before he could respond, she was setting her bag off to the side and rolling up her sleeves.  Her arms were covered in shallow scratches and small bruises.  Gust frowned, but she either didn’t notice or ignored his concern  “I can head back up the lift to see if there’s any growing up there if you want?”

“You don’t have to do that,” Gust insisted, “you’re hurt.”

“That’s never stopped me from helping people before,” Piper’s gaze softened as she took him tenderly by the hand and squeezed.  Her fingernails were caked with dirt and the palms of her hands were a little tacky, but in that moment, Gust didn’t care. “Please, I want to help you.  Just tell me what to do.”

“They sometimes grow around the waterfall.” His voice was small as he stared at their hands.  He traced the slopes of her bruised knuckles with his thumb.  “I haven’t checked there yet.”

“Say no more.  I’m on it.”  She let go of his hand, sack full of trinkets forgotten and brushed past him.  He noticed her flinch of pain, as she stepped gingerly on her right ankle.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yep.” He wanted to argue, but she didn’t give him the chance.  She shambled down the hill and out of sight.

Gust glanced down at his hand.  Some of the sticky residue had transferred onto his palm.  It was ruddy brown and looked suspiciously similar to the ooze that bled out the bottom of her bag.  He couldn’t even find it in himself to be disgusted.  He was too busy trying to slow the racing of his heart.  

Piper had dropped everything to help him.  She was limping and bleeding, but that didn’t matter to her.  She asked for nothing in return.  She was always helping others, but who was helping her?  Did she even want help?  These were questions he couldn’t answer.  He curled his fingers into a fist, his nails dug into his palm, but he barely felt it.  With gritted teeth and a steely resolve, he followed after her.

↢↢↢↣↣↣

“Did you find anything?”

They’d been searching the area around the waterfall for at least an hour, maybe longer.  The sun had already dipped beyond the plateau and a bitter autumn chill was settling in.  Gust shivered and pulled his coat a little tighter around his shoulders.  Piper popped up from her spot a few paces away.  Dirt caked her bare arms and her hair had started to fall out of her top knot.  She had looked tired before, but now she looked ready to keel over.

“I think so,” she stifled a yawn, “no flowers, but I did find this weird soil while I was digging around.  Maybe that’s why the flowers aren’t growing this year.”  She pushed herself off the ground, barely managing to keep herself upright on her one good leg.  “I’ll ask around tomorrow.  One of our resident gardeners should be able to give me some insight.”

“I can ask around,” Gust insisted, “I’m the one who wants the flowers.”

Piper waved him off.  “Finders keepers.  I’ll tell you what I find out tomorrow.”  She took a deep breath, bracing herself, as she took a hesitant step forward. Her ankle buckled under her weight, sending her crashing to her knees.  Gust was at her side before she could push herself back up.  

“Stay.”  His voice was firm as he placed his hands on her shoulders.  Piper pouted at him, but she didn’t argue.  “Show me.”  She sighed and shifted back into a seated position for him.  He rolled up her pant leg and examined the damage.  Blood pooled under the swollen skin.  She flinched as he ran his fingers over the angry red purple bruise. He clucked his tongue and turned his gaze back to her.  She avoided his eyes, staring pointedly off towards the river.  

“You shouldn’t be walking on this.  Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because.”

Gust sighed.  She was going to be a brat about this.  Fine.  He’d treat her like one.  “Don’t be stubborn.”  Before she could respond, he scooped her up in his arms.  Her breath hitched as he cradled her to his chest.  “I’m surprised you were able to walk on that thing at all.”

“What are you doing?”  He didn’t respond as he started the long walk back to town.  She squirmed in his arms, but he held her firmly in place. “What about my stuff back up the hill?”

“I’ll come back for it.”  He kept his eyes trained ahead.  “I’m taking you home first.”

“I can make it back on my own.”

“No,” he snapped at her, “you can’t.”  His blood was boiling.  He wasn’t sure who he was more upset with.  Piper for her blatant disregard for her injury, or at himself for not saying something sooner.  He’d seen her limping, but he let her help anyway.  He breathed.  In and out.  He could dwell on this later, but right now, he needed to get Piper home and patched up.  “How long did you plan to hide this?  Your ankle isn’t going to heal overnight.”

Piper sighed.  “I figured I’d cross that bridge when I got there.”  She picked absently at the dirt under her nails.  “I guess I didn’t have much of a plan.”

“Yeah.  That much was evident.”

Piper snorted.  “I’m more of an act now, think later person.” She shifted closer and let her head rest on his shoulder.  “That’s probably why I find myself in these situations.”

“Well, you probably will be out of commission for the next few days,” Gust noted with a sniff, “you’ll fall behind.”  Piper groaned and buried her face in the crook of his neck.  Her breath tickled his exposed skin.  Gust hid the shudder that crawled up his spine.

“I didn’t even think about that.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Cry probably?” Piper managed a tight chuckle.  “Depending on how long this takes to heal, I’ll probably be about a week behind.”  She sighed wistfully.  “And I was so close to surpassing Higgins in the ranks, too.  Shame.”

“You can still construct small things though, can’t you?”  He felt her shiver in his arms and he pulled her a little closer.  She hummed softly and leaned into it.  “Work on your smaller projects for the time being.”

“Easier said than done,” she said with a roll of her eyes, “I can’t go out and collect materials for the projects.  I also have to refine the raw materials.  Can’t do that if I can’t walk around to fill and empty my machines.”  She groaned again.  “This is the worst, I’m going to be so bored.”

Gust fought the amused grin that tugged at his lips.  “Do you want help?”

He instantly regretted his question when Piper blinked up at him.  “Help?” She arched an eyebrow at him.  “Why?  Are you offering?”

Gust considered this.  He was currently in a lull at work.  His part of the harbor project was done and they were finally back on track.  Albert wasn’t begging him to lend a hand these days.  He had some free time.  He could help her, if she even wanted his help.  He doubted his skills would be very useful to her.  “You’re always helping everyone around town.  Maybe someone should help you for a change.”

“And you’re volunteering yourself?”

Gust pursed his lips.  “I suppose I am.”

“You’re full of surprises, you know that right?” He hummed in response.  So it seemed.  He was surprising himself more and more these days.  “If you’re offering, I’m willing to accept,” she gave him a coy smile, “but I won’t go easy on you just because you’re pretty.”

Gust sputtered.  He could feel the blood rush around his ears.  “I wouldn’t expect you to.  I can handle whatever you throw my way.”

“I’m sure you think you can.” He gave her an unamused look and she stuck out her tongue at him, unfazed. “But thank you. For all of this.”  He nodded.  A comfortable silence settled between them as he continued his trek towards her workshop.  She let her head fall back against his chest, eyes fluttering shut.  He moved slowly, careful not to jostle her.  Not too long after, she was out cold.

Gust watched the slow rise and fall of her chest, desperately trying to ignore the warm feeling that blossomed in his chest.  It was the same feeling he had when she complimented his work or when she’d given him the book.  It made his heart beat faster and his head spin.  This feeling was reserved for Piper alone.  It didn’t feel like the affection he had for his sister or the general regard he had for Albert.  This was something else, but he wasn’t sure how. 

Gust worried his lower lip between his teeth.  Piper curled in on herself, whimpering softly.  Her brows were pitched, unsettled.  He frowned.  She always carried herself with a carefree air, but as Gust watched her squirm and whimper in her sleep, he knew there was more to the story.  He pulled her closer, as if that would protect her from her thoughts.  But Gust knew better.  Nothing could protect you from unsettling thoughts.