#boots plays grabble

[agoddamn]

Can't believe that Grub designed ANOTHER event just for ME PERSONALLY! AGAIN!

[makethatelevenrings]

Of Soup and Snowstorms // J. Todd x gn!reader

Requested? Yes!

WARNINGS: shitty work environments, brief mentions of anxiety, food, mentions of canon-typical violence

Summary: You had a shitty day at work, but Jason Todd makes it better.

The warmth of the apartment is a far cry from the ice cold slush of Gotham. You let out a grateful sigh as soon as you opened the door and the mouthwatering scent of home cooked food. Fairy lights bathed the small living room in warm, yellow light and some candles were lit on the various bookshelves that housed your plants, his books, and a few hidden weapons.

“Jay?” you called as you toed off your boots onto the plastic mat set up by the door. Alfred insisted on having one when winter rolled around thanks to Gotham’s penchant for random snow storms and nearly constant freezing rain.

“Kitchen,” he replied. You already guessed as much, but hearing his voice was a balm on your soul. You hung your coat up and immediately regretted that decision. While the apartment kept the wind out and had some form of heating, it was weak at best. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you exited the entryway and turned to find your boyfriend in the kitchen.

“Hey, you’re home late.” He looked so cozy in sweats and a cut off tank with a bright pink apron that had silvery cursive declaring “Kiss the Cook” that Dick bought him one year as a joke. Jason, however, was not one to be made fun of easily and he took it in stride. It was now his favorite kitchen accessory, next to the chef’s hat Alfred bestowed upon him after Jason mastered the ability to make crepes without burning them.

“Yeah, it was a…day. Is that zuppa toscana?” The thought of work made that familiar tightening in your chest grow. You schooled your features and brushed it off, knowing that he didn’t need to be worrying when he had patrol in a few hours.

“Figured it was a soup kinda day. Go get into comfy clothes, baby.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue with him and insist on serving up dinner. He had probably cooked it so it coincided perfectly with when you normally get home and when you were late, kept it warm. The least you could do was waste more time trying to be helpful.

Now clad in a pair of his sweats, one of his hoodies, and some Baby Yoda socks that Tim had gifted you after the two of you binged the Mandalorian, you shuffled out of the bedroom to find two bowls sitting on the coffee with some french bread lying next to it and two glasses of water. While he would normally go for beer, Jason probably shouldn’t try and grabble while intoxicated.

“Thank you,” you murmured as you joined him on the couch. Some nature documentary played on screen at a low volume, just enough to fill the silence without overpowering either of you. You were about to take a sip of broth when your phone buzzed. 

It was an email from your boss reminding you of the report you needed to edit and turn in by tomorrow morning. The report that had been assigned at four fifty-three today. The report that you had stayed late to write up and finish.

You shouldn’t be crying over a stupid fucking piece of paper, but the familiar burning in your eyes and lump in your throat said otherwise. You threw your phone onto the couch and surreptitiously wiped your tears away with your hoodie sleeve. But your vision blurred with another round of those tratorious liquid bastards and you knew Jason caught on by now.

“Who do I need to kill?” His voice was hard but his actions were gentle as he lifted the bowl that balanced precariously in your lap and set it back down on the table. If it were anyone else asking that question, you would simply laugh it off as a joke. With Jason, there was the slim possibility of it being true.

“No one,” you sniffled. “It’s stupid. I’m just being overdramatic.”

He rolled his eyes, hooking one hand around your ankle and tugging you onto his lap in a swift move. Jason peered up at you behind his thick lashes, his brows creased in concern. One of his hands settled on your waist as the other brushed stray tears from your cheeks.

“If it’s making you cry, it’s not stupid. So spill.”

It all poured out of you in rapid fire sentences punctuated by hiccups and sobs here and there. Your boss was a piece of shit who expected so much from employees while simultaneously doing no work. He assigned mountains of work with immediate deadlines and granted no extensions. You weren’t even being paid for any work you were doing out of working hours because you were a salaried employee and it wasn’t even good pay.

“And now I’m going to be up late tonight because I have to finish this stupid fucking report and I’m already so tired,” you announced. Jason didn’t respond right away. He simply pulled you closer and cradled your head as he rocked the two of you side to side.

“Your boss sounds like a real dick,” he finally said. That got a startled laugh and a quiet sniffle out of you.

“‘M sorry,” you whispered. “I’m over here complaining about my nice cushy office job and you get shot at on the daily.”

His hand stroked lazily up and down your spine and you found yourself unconsciously matching the strokes with your breathing. Jason adjusted you so you sat with your back pressed to his chest, giving him a chance to lean forward and grab your bowls again. He pushed yours into your hands and you gratefully ate a chunk of potato.

“I get shot at so you can safely go to your cushy office job and not have to worry about getting shot or stabbed or mugged or fear gassed,” he hummed. “We don’t train just for shits and giggles. We’re out there to protect the people of this city, including you. Especially you. And it sounds like right now, you’re worrying and so now it’s my job to fix it.”

“No, you cannot shoot, stab, threaten, extort, or stalk my boss.”

Jason paused for a moment. “...what about just plain old intimidation?”

“No.”

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Eat your soup, bug. I do have a good idea, by the way.”

“Alright, I’m all ears.” You obnoxiously slurped the broth and he narrowed his eyes at you in response. Waving his spoon like it was a magic wand, he pointed at you and then at him.

“If only you knew a hot zombie who took a tire iron to a furry and got adopted and the furry turned out to be mega rich. And if only that hot zombie could call up his father, who is a furry if I haven’t made myself clear, and ask him if he has any open positions in his company.”

“That’s nepotism and I’m pretty sure this furry, and the hot zombie, both have fundamental issues with corporate corruption.”

“The hot zombie is willing to bend his rules for special cases.”

“Jay…” You worried at your bottom lip and sighed. “I don’t know. I know Bruce would be fair in his hiring practice, but people would still make the connection between you and me. I don’t want people thinking I got my job only because I’m dating the boss’s son.”

He hooked his chin over your shoulder and let out a huff of air. “I hate seeing you like this, bug. It’s not fair and you’re being taken advantage of and I can’t…I can’t do anything to fix it.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. He genuinely sounded hurt.

“No, I’m sorry. What can I do to help?”

You shut your eyes and savored the warmth he offered. Sitting on your threadbare couch with warm soup in hand that your lover made as snow raged on outside…that was all you needed right now. In a few hours, he would don his armor, leather, and weapons because crime doesn’t stop even in a snowstorm. But he would come back to you, just as he always does. And that would be enough.

“You’re already helping,” you answered. His lips pressed against your neck and you smiled. If you were up late enough, you would make some hot chocolate with brandy for when he came back from patrol.

And you wouldn’t comment on the e-mail from recruiters at a local nonprofit looking for a new community services manager with a higher salary than your current job that appeared in your inbox the next day. Because you knew for a fact that the company was funded by the Wayne Foundation, and you also knew that the program had spawned out of an idea you had thrown out carelessly during a Sunday brunch with the Wayne’s.

In a family of people who spent their nights protecting this city you called home, it was only fair to spend your days doing the same. Plus your boss was much more fair. And a bit of a furry.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added!): @annalayton19 @tiannamortis​ @khaetiin​

[kenjus-benjus-jedi-wayseeker]

Super Metroid “Review”

At E3, Nintendo dropped the bombshell that not only was the long-dormant Metroid franchise returning, but that 2 games were in the works. I, like everybody else was pretty pumped at the news, but I was more excited for the Metroid fanbase than I was for the new games. and that’s because...

...I’ve never played at Metroid game (kinda). I own 2, Super and Fusion. However, I never was able to make it that far in and gave up a small way into them. However, now that I’m a college student with better critical thinking skills and there’s 2 new games on the way, I decided to buckle down and actually beat the game. This ‘review’ is mostly just me going over my thoughts on the game and how much I enjoyed it, so if you’re interested in a noob’s first Metroid experience, you’ll find it under the cut.

Point 1: Presentation

I just want to get this out of the way.

This game is GODDAMN BEAUTIFUL. Look at the hub room alone. Samus and her gunship are incredibly detailed. The rain effect is breathtaking. The ambient noise surpasses any reasonable expectation of the SNES soundchip. This one room sets a bar that the rest of SM is eager to rise above. Something that particularly impressed me is how many frames of animation Samus herself has; you can see her shifting around a little when she’s standing still and she has unique spritesheets for facing left or right. The level of polish and detail in this game makes it feel more like a modern “high bit” game than an actual SNES release. 

Point 2: Gameplay

This is a pretty blanket topic, so I’ll go over a few different gameplay aspects and talk about how I feel about them. For one, Samus her self controls really well. Ranged combat is a lot of fun and easy to use. Being able to aim in 8 directions works great, and each weapon type feels different, despite all of them reaching the same goal of “murder that thing.” Platforming is nice and precise. You get a lot of control over Samus in the air, and abilities like the Grabble Beam or Space Jump do a lot to augment her midair mobility. The only real “problem” I have with the platforming is how unforgiving and difficult the wall-jump controls are. I was able to become good enough at it to beat the game, but to say I “mastered” wall-jumping would be inaccurate.

The interconnected map of Planet Zebes is incredibly well-built and interesting to explore. Each area has a unique and different aesthetic and ecosystem despite being underground, and all the backgrounds are beautiful to look at. While exploration is a lot of fun, it’s made more managable by the game’s map system.

By locating map terminals, Samus will obtain a “full” map of the current area. Blue rooms haven’t been explored, and Pink rooms have. Despite being constructed of simple squares, the map does a great job illustrating the layouts of each area. It also marks important locations like save rooms and elevators, making it easier to interpret space and remember which room which arbitrary square represents. However, despite how much I like the map, I do have a gripe or two. First, you can only look at the map of the area you’re in. I don’t want to walk all the way to Noirfair just to see what rooms I have or haven’t been in. Also, a way to mark the game’s many one-way doors would also be useful in planning routes around Zebes. 

The last thing I want to talk about is the process of collecting items and getting stronger. The opening area of the game does a great job illustrating this concept to the player. You walk around, seeing low, 1 block passages that Samus can’t fit through, so you continue down the main path until you collect the Morph Ball. Suddenly, those small tube become viable areas to explore. This is a process that repeats itself throughout the game. Can’t reach that ledge? Find the High Jump Boots to bounce up there. Can’t open that door? wait until you find the Super Missiles. Can’t cross that lava pit? Find the grapple beam. To succeed in Supe Metroid, the player has to recognize and remember roadblock and curiosities in the maze, and return to them later with to tool needed to interact with them. The only time I ever got stuck is because I missed a small detail or forgot about a certain room. Good perception and memory are rewarded with Energy Tanks, missile upgrades, and the correct path through the maze. Also, making the goal finding and defeating four specific bosses instead of simply reaching an endpoint makes the maze that much more interesting, giving it opportunity to loop back around on itself more times than a simple “entrance and exit” maze would. Overall, Zebes is an absolute joy to explore, and I had a great time poking around its many nooks and crannies.

Point 3: Story

Super Metroid story is both non-intrusive and well-told, which is a difficult balance to strike. Taking place after Zero Mission, the Prime Trilogy Series, and Samus Returns, Super Metroid begins with the Baby Metroid that Samus found on SR-388 being stolen from Ceres Station by Ridley, the Space Pirate who Samus has a blood feud with. After the station self-destructs, Samus follows Ridley to Planet Zebes in hopes to recover the Baby Metroid and defeat the Space Pirates holed up in the caves of Zebes. 

It’s a rather simple premise that gives Samus reason to embark on her mission, and the way the game builds on the events of Samus Returns is appreciated (even though I haven’t played Metroid II in any capacity). The conclusion also manages to be surprisingly poignant and emotional despite having zero dialog whatsoever. It’s a nice surprise to have a well-developed narrative in a SNES game that isn’t an RPG, and I’m glad I was unspoiled enough to appreciate the ending.

Conclusion

Super Metroid kicks ass. I really, really enjoyed playing through it and seeing it to the end. It’s one of those games that defined the Super Nintendo and what the system was capable of, and it impresses on every level. Despite being release in ‘94, it feels like it’s brand new. Old games either age like milk or wine, and Super Metroid is one of the finest wines your SNES can handle. I highly recommend it to anybody curious about the franchise, and now I’m all the more excited for Samus Returns.

This is my first attempt at putting a “game review” to words. I hope you enjoyed what I wrote. As for Metroid, I’m going to press forward and play through Fusion next. After that, I’m either going to play Zero Mission or Prime 1. I haven’t decided yet. Anyhow, I can certainly see now why this franchise is so special, and I’m looking forward to exploring it more.

[allyinthekeyofx]

Blurring the lines 2/5

Chapter one here

CHAPTER TWO

Mulder is watching me. Even without looking up I can feel his eyes on me. Can feel the confusion that radiates from him in waves, swirling and eddying around the office space we share and even though I have removed myself to the farthest corner I can – an area that Mulder once referred to as being mine – I know that far away is currently not far enough to escape his scrutiny. Because he knows, just as he knew when I was trying desperately to hide my gradual decline from him when I was in the grip of my cancer, that this is my hiding place, partially separated from each other by a flimsy partition of wood and glass and which offers us a physical barrier, offers us space to breathe. But it didn’t prevent him scrutinising me back then, searching for the slightest sign that I was struggling more than I was prepared to admit and it isn’t preventing him scrutinising me now.

We are both confined to desk duty, more for Mulders benefit than mine because although he swiftly divested himself of the sling that was meant to support his injured shoulder, he is in no shape to be out in the field. The wound had been ragged; stitched together just barely at Mulders absolute refusal to entertain any suggestions of grafts and surgery and lengthy recuperation. It would heal, he had insisted, if he scarred he scarred. So he had escaped surgery by a whisker, promising to keep the sling on and his arm elevated for at least a week. His good intentions lasted a scant two days. I didn’t waste my breath arguing against his decision. Over the years I have learned to keep my own counsel – to know which battles are worth fighting regarding his cavalier attitude toward his own health and wellbeing.

The days have dragged monotonously for both of us I think and while initially Mulder tried to draw me out of myself, after a while he gave up and became as silent as I have been. Because I can’t bring myself to speak to him – at least not on a personal level and while I politely respond to his work-related queries, he is left with absolutely no doubt that anything else is currently off limits. So instead he just watches me, the silence that stretches between us punctuated only by the occasional rustling of paper, of the muted crack of a shell casing that he has manipulated between his teeth to release the tiny prize within. It’s a sound that, over the years I have come to regard as being uniquely his and I can’t count the amount of times I have awoken in the darkness of yet another anonymous motel room, heart pounding in panic from whichever monster has visited my dreams, to hear the sound of my partner cracking sunflower seeds between his teeth. How often I have felt safe and protected by the knowledge that he is just a few feet away from me; that should I call out to him he would be by my side in seconds, swiftly analysing just what I need from him whether it be by touch or by words he would find a way to affirm that I am okay.

To my intense embarrassment my eyes suddenly start to burn and I feel my throat begin to close as the words blur on the report I have been attempting to concentrate my attention on for the past hour or so and not for the first time I realise I am close to unravelling right there in front of him.

For exactly what reason I feel like this I am less sure. But as the days have passed since that moment the world celebrated I have become more and more morose, a feeling that is ridiculous in the extreme given that I am reacting this way because of a stupid unguarded moment from both of us. A kiss. Just a kiss for Gods sake. A kiss that neither he nor I have even attempted to acknowledge; him because I suspect for him it was a sweet but insignificant moment in our lives and me because I am afraid of him telling me that is exactly what it was. And he would say all the right things to me, try to make light of his actions and totally fail to notice me dying inside right there in front of him. So instead I have said nothing and concentrated instead on just trying to get through each day with a man who seems to be content to sit and suffocate me with his unspoken concern.

And suddenly I just can’t take it anymore, I can’t remain in that office for even a second longer without screaming at him, without striking out at him for breaking the rules and blurring the lines and making me feel like the world has ended. Because he is my world and I have been content to love him from within the confines of the walls I have worked so hard to build around myself. Walls, which now threaten to come tumbling down. The pressure that has been building is just suddenly too much and I just can’t do it anymore. Any of it.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Mulder become rigid in his posture as I stumble to my feet, pushing the chair back and wincing at the grating sound of metal against tile.

“Scully?”

His voice is soft, questioning; the underlying concern only barely contained beneath the surface. But I don’t look at him. I can’t.

Instead I grab my heavy winter coat from where it hangs still slightly damp from the morning snowfall I got caught in on my way to work, not bothering to waste time in shrugging it on before I head for the door.

“I don’t feel well Mulder. I’m going home.”

A part of me desperately hopes he will follow me, grasp a hold of my arm and force me to acknowledge him.

But he doesn’t. A glance behind me as I exit the office sees him as though frozen in time, brow furrowed; mouth slightly agape at my sudden departure and it’s only when I am sure that I am alone, when the elevator doors slide shut, do I allow the first tear to fall.

XXXXXXXXX

I finally arrive home just before 11:30 and I’m actually surprised how easy it was to find a cab on the slush covered streets that was available for hire. The weather was set to turn bad later in the day and was in part at least, the reason I had opted not to drive in to work that morning although if I’m honest I was also aware that snow covered roads coupled with my current emotionally confused state was an accident waiting to happen. My cell phone had rung insistently every five minutes or so and eventually, as it’s strident tones filled the warm interior of the cab for the third time and I saw the driver huff in silent annoyance I simply removed it from my pocket and switched it off, feeling just a tiny pang of guilt as Mulders name disappeared and the screen went blank.

I was unsurprised therefore to find, when I entered my apartment, that the small red light on my answering machine was blinking accusingly at me and although my first instinct was to just ignore it while I got changed in to more comfortable attire, by the time I exited my bedroom dressed in worn blue jeans and soft cream cable knit sweater, the guilt at ignoring Mulder had begun to prickle at me in a singularly uncomfortable way. He had left four messages, which by Mulders standards was pretty tame although I could detect a subtle increase in urgency by the time the fourth one began to play; his voice pitched slightly higher, the cadence of his words a little more rapid.

ummm Scully it’s me again...I guess you aren’t home yet but when you get this message.....ah shit forget it. Stay where you are okay?....I’m coming over to you...

I don’t listen to the rest of the message even though I know there is more, because I suddenly feel trapped, panicked even. Because it’s one thing to remain detached from him in a work environment but something altogether different when we are on our home turf; and I don’t want this, I don’t want this to become blown up in to something it isn’t. I just need time alone to get things straight in my head; time alone away from him.

So I do the only thing that makes sense to me amid the confusion that is raging within me– I seek to escape – grabbling my warm parka with the fur-lined hood before stuffing my feet in to my winter boots I exit the apartment before I can change my mind.

XXXXXX

I’m not sure how long I have sat here, just sat here amidst the snow covered shrubs and bushes that have been softened and melded together by the snow that fell briefly but heavily this morning and while the pristine whiteness in the city has already been rendered a dirty grey slushy mess by the DC traffic, here it is virtually untouched – a sparkling white canvas which is breathtaking in its simplicity. This part of the park is slightly off the beaten track, set back from the runner’s routes with a couple of benches that afford an unobstructed view of the lake that is now magically transformed in to a solid sheet of gleaming ice, weak sunshine bouncing off it in almost blinding intensity to reflect back on the untouched virginal snow that blankets the area around it’s edges. And it’s so peaceful here; the snow has insulated this small oasis from the sounds of traffic, of people, of life. Even the birds are silent, no doubt huddled together with fluffed feathers to capture and keep the warm air against their small bodies in the midst of a DC winter. And that thought makes me aware that I am beginning to feel cold despite the down filling in my jacket, and even though it is long enough to reach mid thigh, the cold metal of the bench beneath me isn’t the ideal surface to spend any length of time on at this time of year and a chill is starting to work its way up my back. The logical part of me knows that at some point I will have to return to my apartment and with that knowledge comes a realisation that Mulder will be there, and while he probably won’t presume to let himself in with his key, he will camp outside the door for as long as it takes for me to arrive back. Seven years in his company has taught me many things regarding his character and the man has the stubbornness of a mule with regards to keeping his word. And if he has decided to come check on me, I would find him still sitting there waiting for me hours later. He’s done it before. Today will be no different.

But I don’t know how I can even begin to confide in him the way I am feeling right now, knowing that despite my earlier anger he has no idea what he has done to garner such an extreme reaction from me.

Just a kiss Dana. It was just a kiss. Nothing more and nothing less. And maybe if I keep telling myself that I might even start to believe it.

Yeah. Right.

I swipe angrily at my nose, trying to persuade myself that the sudden urge to sniff is only about the cold and not about the tears that have once again filmed my vision, gathering unbidden and blurring the scene in front of me; and I hate this. This is not me. This is not who I am. Or at least it’s not who I used to be. So I blink quickly, my vision clearing as I feel wetness once again on my face, the tears instantly growing cold in the frigid air, and concentrate instead on the lone swan that is swiping at the soft snow with its long orange beak in an attempt to find a morsel of food to satisfy its hunger.

Bread. I should have brought bread.

And suddenly I tense as a slight weight drops on to my shoulder, an unseen presence behind me whose voice is as familiar to me as my own and infinitely more precious, his hand squeezing my shoulder gently as he speaks softly.

“Did you know swans mate for life Scully? That even though they know that they will be alone if one dies, they still take a chance on each other? That the chance of happiness is worth the potential heartbreak it might bring?”

And then he is right there in front of me, pulling me gently to my feet and resting his gloved hand against my cheek, rotating his thumb to make small circles against my skin. I can smell the leather, warm and fragrant, mingling with the scent of him.

“I suspect” he drops a kiss on my forehead, breathing in to my hair “That we could learn a few things from them” before tipping my head so he can look at me properly.

His expression is intense, his eyes dark green and fathomless, hard to read for most people but not for me.

“Don’t you think?”

Continued chapter 3

[agoddamn]

I'd like to call for a wellness check on these fucking people

[agoddamn]

Naked Apron Wilnas was not something I expected when we first saw the Six Dragons.

I was gobsmacked. I still am. I don't even have the motherfucker and I might buy this skin just to show my support for man ass.

[agoddamn]

evoker uncap opinions

so far caim is the UNQUESTIONED king of evoker uncaps. crazy valuable in HL. nobody else can do what he can.

the greater issue is, the devs declared before the uncaps even came out that they would ONLY focus on passives. stream declared that the uncaps would buff backline passive, frontline passive, add new passive, and buff ougi. that means that evokers with decent skills are in a VERY good spot and evokers with shit skills are in a VERY bad spot.

caim and maria theresa demonstrate this most handily; caim's skills were already decent in concept, they just didn't work properly with one another (being unable to copy). maria theresa, by contrast, has GARBAGE fucking skills and her uncap did NOT fix her extremely gimmicky design; she's still only really designed to do the uguale/fedelta combo and then waste space. she got very little practical day-to-day use out of her uncap in spite of the 4 costing a fuckin sunstone. the passive echoes from switching to front are nice and all but you know what? water zeta does half of that with 0 frontline swapping shenanigans AS WELL AS being generally useful outside of that. so does summer cag! meanwhile, MT's healing is still super, super limited. so her uncap did very little for her, overall. it didn't fix her biggest issues.

IMO the most recent batch--nier and estarriola--got uncaps of the "good if you're already using these units but not gonna persuade you if you're not" nature.

nier's flb giving her a passive that exists solely to buff her first skill tells me that the devs lowkey regret their mission statement of "buff passives." they bent over backwards to make a passive that buffed a skill! c'mon, man.

estarriola's flb made him a better backline slut for kengo, but all his frontline buffs equal out to "ok well he can ougi now." which...i do think that needs a bit more testing before we give the final verdict on him, given the team assassin buff he gets on ougi. it gave him a new niche--his 4 means he can ALWAYS activate his ougi--but it didn't fix his more practical issues. imo, what estarriola REALLY needed was a buff to hostility and defense. i use him frequently on the frontline and i've found that 1) his frontline swap skill is so forgettable you can freely start him on frontline and 2) for a dude who needs to be hit to activate 1/3 of his skills (technically 2/3 of his skills considering the special attack one) he sure doesn't take hits all that well. a 4th skill with mitigation would have been real nice, or maybe revitalize? idk. i think there were some holes in his flb, is all.

ramblings on future predictions for the evokers i am most personally concerned with for the sake of figuring how i'll spend my sand:

they seem very interested in buffing frontline viability

i worry a bit about what alanaan will get. ferry flb is a hint since they share the same most important skill

but alanaan plays so differently when he comes from the backline vs when he starts frontline. frontline is faceroll burst, but if you're bringing him from the backline it's for HL because you need def/heal buffs/pseudohealer

somewhat similar to caim in that frontline caim is mostly for copycat memes and backline caim is completely different in playstyle

so maybe alanaan COULD get some really good passives that give him the kinda HL boost caim got? well, i'm on the hopium, but it's doubtful…

given his defensive/pseudoheal niche i expect alanaan to get a 4 with death's grace or mitigation or something else in the survivability spectrum, like unchallenged or guts or reflect. a nuke 4 would be COMPLETELY wasted

meanwhile, borger…

borger is outdated on both front and backline. multihits invalidate his backline passive and his frontline passive… (lol

everyone and thieir mother has guaranteed TA nowadays, QA is not worth the setup

borger…imo what borger NEEDS is either a buff to his offense (autonuke? yuisis/gawain echo/triple/seraphic passive?) or

a buff to his tank meme. I noticed they gave nier the very odd passive that extends her field this round; maybe borger could get a 4 (field?) that gives him single-target sub with counter like rein or baotorda? the devs clearly [and rightfully] don't consider single-target sub all that powerful

once the evoker uncaps finish up, i'm expecting one or two of them to get a rebal right after. nier's 'field fix' passive seems to show that cygames regrets not making space for skill buffs in the flb

[agoddamn]

honestly i'm not even sure that three separate people follow me for gbf metagame reasons. and yet. that's what i want to post.

[agoddamn]

Didn’t expect Yodarha in Relink honestly.

Kinda left-field, but it makes sense to me. Same logic behind Anre in Versus; Harvins aren't popular, male Harvins even less, so the devs pick a male Harvin that either has pre-existing connection (Anre) or is memetically popular (Yodarha). Charlotte has been filling the meme slot for female Harvin, but maybe Niyon will pop up in the Versus sequel or Relink DLC.

[agoddamn]

Wife collection

[agoddamn]

Geisenborger getting fully armored for his fifth uncap!

To be honest, it's the first Evoker FLB outfit I haven't liked...he looks too much like Baotorda and Borger's whole war deal always felt more gritty to me than the whole "knight" image. He also loses his visual uniqueness as a more scrawny Draph. I dunno, maybe it'll grow on me? Or maybe the in-game portrait looks better.

Haaselia's look also isn't vibing with me.

It looks like...just a plain dress? None of the sneakiness of her Evoker look or regal stature of her backstory look?

At least both of them have good skins...

[agoddamn]

Ah yes GBF decided to do its own version of the Little Mermaid fairy tale…and now the Ariel stand is a reverse mermaid. Ah yeah!

It was fun, but I feel like they wasted the mermaid. Why make her the most ripped princess in the world and then have her NOT beat ass?

[agoddamn]

There we fucking go.

Societte staying alive saved me nearly seven minutes.

[agoddamn]

The galaxy brain theory about Evoker abi4s is that most of them will be purposely shitty or niche or underwhelming so you don't feel like you HAVE to spend a sunstone on every one of them.

Considering the exorbitant cost for uncapping an Evoker in the first place (90 NWQ! That's three rounds of GW! Eternals only needed one round of GW for FLB!), though, I'd like for their skills to be fucking good.

Evokers in particular have a greater opportunity cost than Eternals; they need a sacrifice unit, so in order to be worth it an Evoker has to be good enough to carry the weight of two units.

Just! If you're gonna cost three GWs, three sunstones, and two evolite (which comes to a grand total of 1825 valor badges, by the way, so you better be busting your balls in GW)! Make them actually fucking good!

[agoddamn]

You too cunt

(...just realized I won't get the cheevo for this because of the off-ele sac unit. Goddammit.)

[agoddamn]

EAT SHIT PUSSY