#but especially the less flashy moments in particular

[itsbeenliketenyearsitsprettywild]

Thing to remember about Cat’s magician theme: while yes, it does imply there’s some stuff that we just won’t get to see due to it being hidden, it’s also hinting at something meant to help us:

Don’t get caught up in any misdirection.

One of the big things about this music video in particular is that there’s a lot of stuff thrown at us really fast and quick, multiple times. A bunch of busy, flashy, dramatic sequences that are sure to draw most people’s eye and theorycrafting!

But, just as a magician uses their skills to get the audience to look away from the actual trick that they’re pulling, Kazui is subconsciously pulling the same stuff on us. Like, just in considering what one of the slower sections of Cat showed us:

People have already pointed out that the guy in the wedding audience is the same man who was bartending in Half. But I think there’s even a bit more past that that Kazui’s given to us as context. Which is to say: Consider the ring on his finger and the woman behind him.

Know what other woman in Kazui’s videos we’ve seen who has brown hair and been right next to this man?

Which actually puts the bar scene from Half into a completely different context.

The picture above wasn’t Kazui cheating on his wife: it was him getting to know the woman his childhood friend was going to marry. 

By having their meeting in a casual setting, with both Kazui and her sitting right up next to the bar where the guy was working, all three of them would get to talk and hang out when things weren’t too busy. And when things did get busy, Kazui and this man’s future bride would be easy to check up on via a quick look down the bar counter, with alcohol as an added social relaxant so things would hopefully never get too tense and awkward. With all this in mind, I think it’s really important we consider the art of misdirection when looking through the rest of Kazui’s Cat video: If our attention is being drawn to something in particular, look at everything else first.  That’s gonna be how we crack through Kazui’s shell and get to the truth.

[seedsofdoubt]

Ｍｙ Ｌｏｖｅｌｙ Ｍａｉｄ— Ｏｈ Ｗａｉｔ… Ｔｈａｔ’ｓ Ａ Ｂｏｙ

⬐ After losing his job and with nowhere else to go, (Y/N) ends up working as a maid for the Midoriya family. His soft features and quiet nature make everyone assume he’s a girl, and honestly, he doesn’t bother correcting them—it’s just easier that way. Everything seems fine until Izuku comes home and meets their new “maid,” and things get awkward fast. What starts as a simple job quickly turns into a tangle of misunderstandings that neither of them saw coming.

chapter 11

masterlist

The memory came like a fleeting shadow sweeping across (Y/N)’s mind as he stood on the UA training grounds. It wasn’t often that his thoughts wandered—his focus tended to remain in the here and now—but this time, the sensation of blinding speed brought him back to a particular moment, years before he ever set foot in this world.

• 𝙛𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 •

The training field was alive with the sounds of movement—quick, sharp, and rhythmic. The clang of steel echoed through the air, mingling with the light chatter and occasional scolding of Tengen Uzui’s wives in the background. Tengen himself stood at the center of the chaos, the sun gleaming off his twin blades and his elaborate headpiece as he crossed his arms, smirking at the younger boy standing a few feet away.

(Y/N), younger but no less stoic, stood poised with a wooden training sword in hand, his breaths steady but shallow, a light sheen of sweat gleaming on his forehead. His usually calm demeanor was disrupted by exhaustion that tugged at his limbs.

“Again,” Tengen commanded, his deep voice cutting through the soundscape like a drumbeat. “You’re fast, kid, no doubt about it. But if you’re going to make it flashy enough to keep up with me, you’ll need more than just speed. Show me precision. Show me style!”

(Y/N) didn’t respond, at least not verbally. His blank expression barely shifted as he tightened his grip on the sword, his legs shifting slightly in preparation. He was tired—bone-tired—but he wasn’t about to stop now. Not while Uzui was watching.

In a blur of motion, Tengen vanished, his speed so great that even the sound of his sandals hitting the ground was delayed. (Y/N) barely caught the movement in his peripheral vision, his instincts screaming at him to react. He ducked low, narrowly avoiding the edge of Tengen’s blade, and sprang backward, his body moving purely on muscle memory.

“Not bad,” Tengen said, his voice surprisingly close, though his form was now perched on a nearby rock. “But not good enough!” He lunged again, this time faster, his movements a chaotic symphony of speed and power.

(Y/N) darted to the side, his wooden sword coming up to deflect the strike. The impact rattled through his arms, and he staggered slightly, but he managed to stay upright. The world around him was a blur—each of Tengen’s movements was a challenge to track, let alone counter.

From the sidelines, Tengen’s wives watched with varying degrees of concern and encouragement.

“Hina, look at him! He’s going to fall over any second!” Suma whined, clutching her hands to her chest. “We should stop this!”

Makio, far less sympathetic, crossed her arms with a huff. “Stop babying him, Suma. He’s fine. Right, Hina?”

Hina, ever the composed one, placed a calming hand on Suma’s shoulder. “He’ll be fine. Lord Tengen wouldn’t push him if he couldn’t handle it. Trust him.”

“No babying him my lovely wives!” Tengen called out without breaking stride, his voice as commanding as ever yet still respectful— because yes, tengen drinks his respect woman juice daily…especially from the breast of his wives.

“He doesn’t need your pity. What he needs is determination. Isn’t that right, young (L/N)?”

(Y/N) didn’t answer, but his actions spoke for him. He took a deep breath, his form lowering slightly as he focused. This time, his movements were sharper, quicker, and more deliberate. He surged forward, his wooden sword slicing through the air in a strike aimed at Tengen’s midsection.

The Sound Hashira blocked it easily, though there was a glint of approval in his eyes. “Not bad, kid! But you’re still too slow if you want to match this!”

Tengen moved again, faster than before, his form a blur of color and sound. (Y/N) clenched his jaw, his breathing steadying as he switched tactics. His legs propelled him forward in a burst of speed that left even Tengen momentarily caught off guard. He pivoted at the last second, his sword slashing upward in a motion so fluid and quick that the air itself seemed to ripple.

For a brief moment, (Y/N) moved as if he were sound—his body a whisper of motion, too fast for the untrained eye to follow.

He landed several feet away, his sword lowered, his breaths heavy but even. The faintest hint of satisfaction flickered across his usually indifferent face.

Tengen, now standing a few paces away, let out a loud, boisterous laugh. “That’s more like it! I knew you had it in you, young (L/N)! You might even be able to keep up with me one day!”

Before the moment could sink in, the memory fractured, fading away like mist in the wind.

(Y/N)’s gaze refocused, the present coming back into sharp relief. His breathing was as steady as ever, but for the briefest moment, there was the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips. It was gone before anyone could notice.

• 𝙛𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙚𝙣𝙙 •

“0.43 seconds,” Aizawa repeated from across the training grounds, his tone as indifferent as ever but his eyes sharp with intrigue.

And for a moment, as Bakugo’s furious sputtering filled the air, (Y/N) thought back to Uzui’s voice—“I knew you could do it.”

As the rest of the class stared at the board displaying (Y/N)’s impossible 0.43-second time, he casually walked over to stand beside Izuku, whose expression betrayed a mix of awe and nervousness. Izuku’s green eyes darted toward Bakugo, whose smug confidence had turned into a scowl, his fists clenching and crackling with small explosions.

“It’s your turn,” (Y/N) said simply, glancing at Izuku. His tone wasn’t harsh, but there was an edge of expectation in his voice.

Izuku swallowed hard, taking a shaky breath. “Right. My turn…” He stepped forward as Aizawa called his name, his hands trembling slightly.

“You’ll be fine,” (Y/N) added, not looking directly at him. “Ignore the brat.” His gaze flickered briefly toward Bakugo, who froze mid-sneer, his teeth grinding audibly.

Izuku glanced at (Y/N), a flicker of gratitude crossing his face, though it quickly faded as the next test began.

Izuku nodded hesitantly, the words giving him a small but noticeable boost of confidence. He stepped up to the starting line, but as the whistle blew and his legs carried him forward, it was clear he wasn’t anywhere near the speeds his classmates had achieved. His movements were clumsy, lacking the precision and strength needed to keep up with the others.

By the time he crossed the finish line, panting and red-faced, the results were as underwhelming as he’d feared. Bakugo’s barking laughter cut through the silence.

“Hah! You call that running, Deku? Even the extras here could beat that!” Bakugo sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.

Izuku’s shoulders sagged slightly, his confidence wavering, but before Bakugo could press further, (Y/N)’s calm voice broke through.

“Focus on yourself,” (Y/N) said coldly, his disinterest cutting deeper than any insult could. “You’re wasting energy trying to prove something to people who don’t care.”

“Who are you calling a brat, huh?! I’ll—” Bakugo started, but (Y/N) cut him off with a flat look.

“I said focus on yourself brat.”

Bakugo flinched at the cold look thrown his way, his glare sharpening, but he doesn’t say anything else.

The tests that followed were grueling, with the students pushed to their limits in various physical and quirk-based activities. Bakugo, true to his fiery nature, remained loud and aggressive, barking out challenges to the rest of the class. “Come on, you extras! I know you can do better than that—oh wait, you can’t!”

(Y/N), however, was unfazed. Every time Bakugo tried to outdo the rest of the class, (Y/N) would step in silently and match or surpass his score, his actions speaking louder than words. Whether it was the standing long jump, grip strength test, or sidesteps, (Y/N) completed them with an effortless precision that left Bakugo’s boasts hanging in the air.

Izuku, on the other hand, struggled with each test. His lack of control over One For All, coupled with his already limited physical capabilities, left him at the bottom of nearly every ranking. And yet, through it all, (Y/N) stayed close by, watching Izuku’s efforts with an analytical gaze.

“You’re relying too much on instinct,” (Y/N) said during one test, his voice low so only Izuku could hear. “You’ll never get better if you don’t train your body and mind to handle the strain. I’ll change up your training regimen next time. No more excuses.”

Izuku shivered at the thought, memories of their last training session flashing through his mind. (Y/N) had left him gasping for air, bruised but somehow inspired, and it seemed he was about to go through it all again.

“Y-Yes, sir!” Izuku stammered, more nervous than ever.

“Good.” (Y/N)’s faint smirk was the only sign he was pleased.

By the time the pitching test—the final event—rolled around, Izuku was already dreading the outcome. As expected, Bakugo was the first to land an impressive throw, his explosion-boosted pitch soaring far into the distance.

“Beat that, extras!” he shouted, grinning wickedly as the rest of the class took their turns.

When it was Izuku’s turn, the murmurs of doubt began almost immediately. “He’s going to fail again,” someone whispered.

Izuku held the ball nervously, his heart hammering in his chest. The weight of everyone’s expectations—or lack thereof—felt heavier than the ball itself.

“You’re useless, Deku!” Bakugo shouted from the sidelines, his voice sharp and cutting. “What’re you even doing here? Just throw it and get it over with!”

Izuku hesitated, the familiar sting of Bakugo’s words settling deep in his chest. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught (Y/N)’s gaze.

“You know what to do,” (Y/N) said calmly, his arms crossed as he stood watching.

Taking a deep breath, Izuku channeled the small amount of One For All he had access to into his arm, careful not to let the power spread too far. His grip tightened on the ball as he raised it. This is it.

With a determined shout, Izuku threw the ball, the sheer force of One For All sending it flying further than anyone expected. The class went silent as the ball finally landed, the distance displayed on the screen.

Even Bakugo’s usual commentary was replaced by stunned silence, though it didn’t last long.

“WHAT THE HELL, DEKU?!” Bakugo roared, his explosions crackling violently in his palms. “You’ve been lying this whole time?! You’ve got a Quirk?!”

Izuku barely had time to stammer out a response before Bakugo lunged at him, explosions lighting up his path. Before he could reach Izuku, Aizawa’s scarf shot out, wrapping around Bakugo and pinning him in place.

“Enough,” Aizawa said flatly, his Quirk already erasing Bakugo’s. “Control yourself, or you’ll be expelled before the day’s over.”

Bakugo growled in frustration, but he stopped struggling, his glare never leaving Izuku.

Meanwhile, (Y/N) stepped up beside Izuku, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “Come on,” he said simply. “Let’s go.”

Izuku nodded quickly, allowing (Y/N) to guide him back toward the rest of the class. His heart was still pounding, but for the first time, it wasn’t entirely out of fear.

[thekilludustfanclub]

✨Killudust Headcanons✨

— ☆ author’s note: i’m so happy i was able to properly formulate and finish these hdcs when i had the free time to do so. i just can’t help but to have fun with this rarepair ship it’s so funny but cute! so yeah, please enjoy if you’re into rarepairs just as much as i am ♡︎

• The silver-haired heir is a huge hopeless romantic for her.

• Killua has a particular past-time of his that involves collecting gold dust girl merch and body pillows.

• This guy reads self-insert “reader x Gold Dust Girl” fics made by other fans on a daily basis and saves the best ones on his personal archive list.

• He also happens to run a Gold Dust Girl fan account and labeled himself as her “official number 1 fanboy”.

• He gets made fun of by Milluki for collecting every accessible Gold Dust Girl figurine out there, but Killua isn’t affected by his words since his older brother is a much bigger hardcore figurine fanatic.

• Killua usually calls the golden girl by another name since her original one is way too long to say.

• He doesn’t really see himself calling her “Gold Dust Girl” all the time.

• It’s way too long to say, but he also thinks that the name sounds too formal, like a description or a label of some kind.

• He also believes that her labeled name would ruin their shared moments together and would kill the vibes that they’ll be having.

• So instead of calling her by her original name, Killua would make up cute short ones so it won’t be too long or basic to say.

• He could care less if anyone else calls her “Gold Dust Girl” because he believes everyone else should call her that.

• Only he has the right to call her with nicknames because she chose HIM as her interest and him alone.

• Expect the silver-haired boy to act all proud and cocky by that fact alone whenever he brings it up multiple times to Gon and the others.

• It took him a bit of time to think of some nicknames for her since he really wanted something special for her but couldn’t decide between two of them.

• After many hours of thinking, he finally decided to call her “Goldie” as her main cute name.

• He also thought of “Princess” as well as “Princess Goldie” to make it more charming for her so he’d use them on the side.

• He believes these names are worthy of being used on someone as exceptional and perfect as her since they sound adorable and short.

• Not too complicated but not too flashy.

• He feels very proud of coming up with these.

• Just don’t tell him that he did a good job or else the zoldyck boy in love will cockily explain to you in a full five-page essay on how he came up with them.

• At first glance, Goldie is perceived as a silent and shy girl.

• One good thing that she’s especially good at is helping anyone with financial problems since all you have to do is wash her to get at least 500g of gold particles.

• Killua would be delighted to help her in this situation (he thankfully doesn’t get the chance to do that however).

• Goldie is a girl with a few words.

• She’s the type of person you won’t see talk, but the people who know her will understand exactly what she means by her gestures and expressions.

• Killua will be the one starting the conversations they’ll be having.

• While he engages, Goldie would always smile at what he’s saying and laughs whenever he makes his awful corny jokes.

• She’ll always nod and express her questions or answers by using facial expressions or her hands, and Killua will always figure out what she means and answer her right away.

• Since she’s an NPC card, her vocabulary is pretty limited, but despite that inconvenience, she still has some kind of self-awareness.

• This would explain her expressive expressions in everything that Killua says and why she seems quiet all the time from a stranger’s point of view.

• Killua won’t mind her quietness because he finds that charming and mysterious about her.

• He doesn’t like loud people with lots of temper like his mother.

• He prefers the opposite: someone who doesn’t nag, is calm and is especially sweet.

• He particularly enjoys angering the bodyguard guarding the gates of her mansion by regularly coming in to grab Goldie and leave the place. The current back-and-forth visits to her house always give Killua a good laugh since the bodyguard can never keep up with him.

• The silver-haired boy is either causing trouble for the bodyguard to show the man just how much of a lousy job he’s doing, or if he’s just doing all of this to impress Goldie. Both would be acceptable.

• The ideal date for these two would be at a cafe.

• Being comfortable around each other is Killua’s first priority, so taking her to a quiet coffee shop with sweets and drinks would be the ideal place for both of them.

• They’d be lovingly sharing a sweet drink and cake while listening to the cafe’s pleasant melody songs.

• Killua won’t care when the date will start or finish: he WILL clear out an hour or two to take her to the mall.

• He always chooses her outfits for her and explains afterward why buying clothes for her NEEDS to be a part of every date.

• She needs to get new clothes instead of always wearing the same clothing every time he sees her.

• Although his reasoning for the constant change of clothes made some sense, a part of him secretly just wanted to go shopping with her so that she could always look her best wearing the clothes HE chose for her.

• Whenever he’s with Goldie, Killua will start acting in only two possible ways: his fanboyish side and gentlemanly side.

• Killua would mostly get excited when he sees her but will try to show a calm exterior when he meets her for their dates.

• He’ll act like a huge fanboy when imagining how their dates will go out however.

• When the date starts, he’ll act as gentleman-like as possible even though he’ll internally panic and squeal like a little boy seeing their favorite character in real life for the first time.

• However, as much as their relationship looks cozy and sweet at first glance, there are still some downsides to it.

• One of these issues would be her skin.

• A human doesn’t usually have golden shiny skin so whenever the two are hanging around in the numerous towns of the game, the players who take notice of them will all mainly stare at her with bewildered expressions plastered on their faces.

• But Killua will shoo them away.

• And by shooing them away, he’d give them the death stare, which would be enough for the other hunters to run with their tails between their legs.

• He doesn’t mind the constant unwanted attention because he knows he’ll look cool in front of her. He just doesn’t want any onlookers ruining his chances with her.

• Another problem regarding their relationship is that Goldie cannot leave the Greed Island game.

• No matter how many times Killua would make up dating scenarios happening outside of Greed Island, he knows none of it will become true.

• Since Killua used his only chance at taking out a card from the game to help Gon, that meant there would be no other way for Goldie to leave Greed Island.

• Despite that inconvenience though, Killua did not let himself down.

• Every time he enters Greed Island, he always brings things from the outside world with him: things like what he found during his many hunter explorations, souvenirs, photos that he took with his friends and Alluka, pieces of information about what the real world is like, and many more.

• Goldie cannot read nor write (due to being an NPC) which leaves Killua in charge of reading or writing things on her behalf.

• This gives Killua so much to talk about and show to Goldie, that there are no challenging situations or awkward silence to face if they suddenly have nothing to talk about.

• Simply put, Killua is that one lucky fanboy living his dream: spending quality time with his favorite game character.

[cebwrites]

they/them law word count: 0.5k

In place of "I love you", Law finds it easier at first to replace the words with compliments and pet names instead - "you're beautiful", "gorgeous", "darling" - it takes the weight off those three words while still holding the same sentiment; eventually Kirin figured out what they were trying to convey and could stop playing chicken with what they actually meant

They talked about it later, and now in the present Law conveys their feelings both ways - with more subtle methods casually, and actually saying I love you when they have a bit more privacy

Early on, Law used to call Kirin an idiot whenever he was doing something stupid - rightfully so, and it's not as though they've completely stopped now especially in front of other crews like the Strawhats or Kidd Pirates where they feel a sense of "toughness" needs to be maintained

But one day as a "joke", they called over to Kirin with a mocking curl of darling on their lips, expecting him to get huffy and start a potential round of banter; what Law got instead was a sudden flush to his cheeks and the slow realization of what they said dawning on their boyfriend's face, followed by a smile that was all too soft for the man they'd come to know Kirin as

With the shock of heat pooling in their ears as well, face hidden under the brim of their hat, how could Law simply go back to calling this affection-starved dumbass just their idiot

Kirin would all too easily shout to the high heavens how much he loved his partners, but for the sake of Law's embarrassment, he keeps it to much less flashy—but still all the more affectionate—methods like burying his face in the back of Law and Reiji's necks, mumbling his love first thing in the morning

It's unimpeded physical contact, always hanging around one or the other, Law especially since they often have to spend long months apart; dragging Law to an impromptu nap on the couch the moment their head hits his chest, making use of Reiji's thighs as his lap pillows the moment he puts his calligraphy out to dry

Kirin makes his love known physically and verbally, he's full with so much of it he's ready to blow, so it's up to his partners to make sure he doesn't very well pop with how much he cares for them

Reiji's love language comes out in lots of ways, but the easiest one would be his cooking - when steering duties are safely in the hands of another crew mate or they've dropped anchor for the night, he's making himself busy with their next meal or prepping the one after

He checks up on the captains, both his lover and metamour, makes sure they're getting enough rest, food, and play (sparring like feral animals, Kirin in particular getting into hijinks with other people, etc); Rio complains that he spoils those two way too much but Reiji's only all too happy to

Plus, whatever he gives, he's sure to be reciprocated with in kind ♡

[cbk1000]

Humbly asking for your director's commentary on my favourite fic of yours, Down The River's Dim Expanse. It is so incredibly atmospheric and just evokes all the feels. Particularly the line "That is love: the terrible awareness, in the terrible indifference of the world", and I want to know how and why you managed that, and who gave you the right. Came for porn, got the feels instead, and I want to speak to your manager.

I'm really pleasantly surprised someone asked about this fic, because it gets a lot less attention than my other fics, and I'm actually kind of fond of it, even though I wrote it. lmao

I wanted to do something with a fairytale vibe, because I've loved folklore of all sorts since I was a kid, and most especially folklore to do with water creatures of any sort. The Little Mermaid was my favourite movie as a kid, and I never moved on from that. lmao (I actually have another idea kicking around in my head in which Arthur is a selkie, and Merlin innocently takes his sealskin from the beach where he left it, unwittingly making Arthur, to their horror, Merlin's wife.)

I didn't base the fic on any one folktale in particular, though Arthur was definitely inspired a bit by my slight obsession with rusalkas; can't get enough of those bitches drowning men. I liked the idea of still grounding it in Arthurian legend and also taking aspects of the show, like the oppression of magic users, and molding that into an AU wherein Arthur and Merlin meet under different circumstances, on more equal footing. And I really, really liked the idea of Arthur not being able to drown some mouthy, not at all attractive, if you ask him, twat who doesn't care that he was Very Important before he ended up naked in a lake.

I wanted something intimate and self-contained because I was writing such a long WIP at the same time, with lots of big, flashy moments, which is why it revolves almost solely around the same setting, with nothing grand happening, aside from Arthur's feelings. And at the same time, I'm really mean, so I thought, why not infuse this with a sense of quiet desperation and foreboding? So I'm sorry that you came for the porn and got the feels instead, but I'm trying to make that my brand. lmao

Really, I just wanted to tell a very gay fairytale that evoked the stories I grew up with as a kid (and still read as an adult). I would actually love to do something similar again.

[todayimgonnaplay]

Today, I'm gonna play: DmC: Devil May Cry (the reboot)

I remember the time when this was announced, everybody including myself hated the reboot's look and feel of it. To this day it's still hushed, shoved deep into the abyss so that everyone can forget it ever happened. I did play the demo about a year or two after it released and remember somewhat enjoying it, but not interested in getting the game at all. This time, I decided to take a leap of faith and see how it's aged.

My ''first'' DMC was DMC 4, which I watched my cousin play. I remember thinking how cool Nero's demon arm was and his overall design; Dante was very much unknown to me at the time. Years later I found a PS2 copy of the first game . Not realizing the series wasn't as easy as expected, I gave up after the first few missions. I did try 2 later, and then eventually 4 special edition to play for myself. 4 has been my favourite so far for having more accessible gameplay, and also i'm biased towards Nero lol. It's also the first DMC I have completed

Coming into the game I had extremely low expectations and imagined it'd be an absolutely absurd game filled with vulgarity and excess violence for the sake of it, but having just finished the game, I feel like this title is...overhated? Maybe it actually is super vulgar and excessive (especially when comparing with the original series) and that my expectations just so happened to help me see the game in a better light. I remember the trailers having Donte (I will refer to his meme name for the sake of comparison to the original Dante) act obnoxious as hell, but in the game he's...calm???? and caring??? Really surprising aspects that made me like the game.

In terms of story, I personally don't think of Devil May Cry in general for storytelling. They seem to exist for the sake of thematics for levels and gameplay, and that's what I see here too. You have a hero that's presented as initially flawed (with the whole drinking and sex in the intro), gets a motive to be the chosen one to go on a quest to fight evil, has a guide and learns a few things along the way (demon and human relations with the world), and beats evil. An almost classic hero's journey type. Some of its most emotional moments were a bit lacking, and he does flip people off or come up with edgy comebacks, but I could see Donte as a regular guy at least. Is he better than the original Dante? No. But he is good as his own character. I also liked the first half of the game regarding Vergil compared to the depictions I've seen of him in random cutscenes I watched online. It was a nice change of pace, even if predictable. Kat, a new character was also decent in her role. But none of the characters remotely created much interest, except for Donte because I was focused on whether he'd be too much or not. In terms of villains, one particular boss who is a news anchor striked me as interesting for trying to put Donte in a bad light, and his role is quite unique too, unlike what I've seen in other games.

The gameplay is one of the most fun aspects in this title. You have the classic switching weapons that Dante has, but I found it slightly more and yet less accessible than Dante in the main games. There are designated button inputs for Angel and Demon weapons, and you need to press the attack buttons along with it in order to use it. Switching is done with the D-pad, which felt awkward at times. But regardless, fast and flashy combat in this title has been the best I've experienced in this series by far. I had a huge issue with platforming in 4, often feeling very clunky but DmC does a much better job at it, with two grappling weapons that allow you to swing, or pull obstacles as platforms. But it's not perfect, as there was one mission that was quite clunky and had me falling multiple times. Another issue I noticed is the how the game hints at special items scattered in the level by using a beeping noise, akin to Mirror's Edge. The latter does a good job at it by using 3D audio and varying volumes, but it felt difficult with this game where the volume felt loud enough to think I was near something, but it was never near enough. Nor could I tell from which direction it was coming from. In fact, I could only recognize this beep's purpose because of my experience with Mirror's Edge, as the game does not tell you what it signifies. Adding a text box would have helped, which the game already does a good job in conveying tutorial information with the use of triggers in the levels.

Another great aspect of the game is its art direction. Limbo feels so alive and dynamic, with bold text popping off and adding to the atmosphere, it screams ''cool''. There's also a nice variety of colours rather than having them be muddy and grey for settings like this, which I've seen in other games. I couldn't get into gothic settings before, but now I'm very intrigued! In addition to that, the level design is quite straightforward and structured in a way that I felt less confused compared to DMC 4 having multiple paths and constantly getting lost. Soundtrack it's very fun, I think DMC as a whole does not miss on that. It's got the usual rock and metal vibe that always hypes up battle. I will be checking the OST too. Sound effects are also doing a great job, with the battle end result being my favourite. It has this little scream that plays as if Donte is in a fit of rage. In addition to that effect the screen also has these close ups of him as he gets ready for the next round, reminding me of what Hi-Fi Rush has done (even if that's a newer game). Little bits like that create nice transitions as the player continues on. Apart from playing, I do wish this game had a different title. I get it's a reboot, but it does make it hard to distinguish sometimes.

I'm sure this is a very unpopular opinion so take it with a grain of salt, as with everything I write here anyway. Having finished the game, a part of me wishes that there's a sequel, or that Donte at least retconned and made into his own character as something other than being a reboot Dante. That could probably relieve him a bit of his reputation. I think in order to enjoy this game to its fullest, is to not think of him as Dante at all, or even DMC if we go that far, but rather it's own thing or an alternative universe. And to also keep your expectations low!

Terms exclusive to the game: Limbo - An alternate yet alive world of the game's setting where demon enemies run amok

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Good luck with your medical thing. On a related note, perhaps our 14th favourite medical professional getting their ear re-pierced with dangly jewellery? Perhaps with a fun android friend along for moral support?

Thank you! Hopefully this business will be all over very soon.

Finally! An excuse for Fourteen and Arthur! :D

On with the fic!

--

The Doctor smiled as they looked at the display case, showing off all sorts of things in different sizes, colors, styles, and materials. Part of them was very, very tempted with the lovely glowing chandelier-like set, but they only planned on getting one ear pierced and this was a set.

Also, it was very, very clearly radioactive and this face's previous experience with exposure to radiation resulted in regenerating with a big chin and floppy hair.

"Is there any particular reason as to why I am here with you looking at items used in body modification?"

The Doctor turned to their right, looking at the android who was staring at him with a curious stare. "You do not have any piercing holes on your person, from what my scans have told me." Arthur said, folding his hands before him.

"Not in this body, no. Previous one, yes, had a lovely little dangley thing hanging from my left ear. Loved that one, wish it hadn't vanished when I regenerated." They pouted, such a shame that this shop didn't have anything like it.

Still, they smiled once more. "But I asked you to come along as moral support because I'm gonna get my ear pierced again! Also, I need you to help me pick out something that'll look good on this face. Whatcha think? Flashy? Simple? Something utterly complex?"

Arthur tilted his head slightly, studying him. "The left ear again?"

"Yep!"

The android looked at the display of earrings and chains, was he picturing what the Doctor would look like with any of them on? They hoped so, that'd be cute. "I trust your judgement." The Doctor said, leaning on the counter.

"I feel that flashy might not work, you should have something simple, something that says you, but isn't screaming it." Arthur replied.

His hazel eyes scanned over the items. "You said you like ones that... dangle?"

"Yeah!" The Doctor tapped the top of their ear and then the lobe. "A chain one, so that it connects the top and the bottom."

"Right." Arthur stared once more before tapped the glass, right above one of them. "This one. The one with the little blue orb for the top, and the large, yellow one for your lobe."

The Doctor leaned over, pressing close to Arthur to take a look. It was simple, yes, and clearly space themed. The yellow glob was a brilliant opal, with little metal squiggles coming off the sides of it, as if they were sunbeams.

The blue orb was probably a sapphire or something, and it was small, and kinda cute. "It's like the sun and the Earth." The Doctor said, already loving the idea of it. Earth was practically their home when they weren't on the TARDIS, and she had such a fondness for that little, blue planet full of marvelous things, just like them.

Arthur nodded. "That's why I think it's the best choice."

"See, this is why I said I trust your judgement! Excuse me!" The Doctor called out to an employee of this little piercing shop out on a station, floating through space.

In a matter of moments, the Doctor found themself seated in a chair with the employee cleaning their ear with a disinfectant. Arthur was seated next to them, holding the Doctor's hand, attempting to be of some support. "You are aware that there is a very strong chance of a sharp pain, especially in a very delicate area of the ear, right?"

Again, attempting.

"This ain't the first time I've done this." The Doctor smiled, this might actually hurt less, the Doctor had... done the last one on her own, and it had not been the best choice. Had decided to get it done on a whim after spotting the cute piercing, knowing that she just had to have it.

They really did miss that silly thing, might have to try finding it again when they weren't busy.

"You ready?" The employee asked, her tool at the ready.

"Yep! Allons-y!" The Doctor grinned, still felt weird saying that again, even with this mouth and voice.

The employee just raised an eyebrow, shrugged, and got to work. The one for the lobe stung and the Doctor gripped Arthur's hand, who used his free one to gently pat the Doctor's shoulder.

The second one made the Doctor jump and nearly fall off the chair, oh! OH! That hurt like no one's business! They were gonna be sore tomorrow!

"There we go, all done." The employee said as she finished, then held up a mirror.

Taking it, the Doctor looked at themself in the mirror, which was still so surreal, they'd never get used to seeing this face again, especially with being a new Doctor. They flashed a grin at themself, giving their head a little shake to see the chain connecting the two orbs move about. "Amazing! Thank you, excellent work! If I ever get a wild spark for another, I am totally coming back here."

"Thanks, dude." She nodded and went about cleaning up her tools as the Doctor jumped from the chair, turning to Arthur.

"Soooo... whatcha think? Stylish, eh?"

Arthur nodded, smiling what the Doctor had quickly learned to be a real one, not his usual customer service smile. "You look very good, Doctor. I was correct to assume it was the most fitting for you."

"Aww, that's sweet, and very correct of you." They winked. "Remind me to store this away next time I regenerate, don't wanna lose this one!"

"I'll be sure to remind you of that." Arthur nodded, and the Doctor had a feeling he would.

--

Not sure how Fourteen met Arthur and how he got him off the one ship, but whatever, they're hanging out together! Having fun!

[troisfleur]

6; the shape of magic.

One detail I really like about Twisted Wonderland in regards to its magic system is the way that it has the capacity to be so genuinely personal. For this month’s headcanon post, I’d like to take a moment to go through and give a general idea of the ways in which Trey’s magic shifts depending on what he’s casting, and generally giving an idea of what it looks like outside of using Paint the Roses.

I. THE DEFAULT.

Trey Clover is the first to admit that he isn’t a particularly imaginative person. I’ve remarked before that I find that very fact incredibly funny for someone with a signature spell like Paint the Roses. There’s a potential for endless creativity and it’s never quite being used to its full capacity. The shape of his magic is simple and unassuming.

The sparkles look generic, with an iridescent sheen that catches the light and reflects every color. There’s endless potential in the shades reflected, but unless you’re watching him cast and paying attention to the smaller details, it’s nothing special. There’s no smell, no residue except a faint shimmery afterimage, and the magic itself barely gives off any heat to speak of. He prefers it that way: simple, unassuming, reflecting back the surroundings while teasing an endless potential he can’t reach yet.

When casting spells with certain elemental sways, the attributes of his magic shift and nearly become unrecognizable, but there is a certain iridescent shimmer in the after that persists, a trademark that speaks both to the subtle touches that speak of a mage that’s only been casting for a few years, as well as a subtle desire to not be lost in the shuffle entirely.

Because Trey struggles with both imagination and his own creativity, when he casts spells of an elemental persuasion, they tend to be less abstract and flashy and more based on surroundings or his own practical needs. The elements are interpreted through his eyes and magic in a very grounded, tangible way.

II. FLORA.

Trey’s most used type of spell, should he need to attack or defend. It carries with it the distinct flair of rose petals, calling to mind Heartslabyul’s garden, as well as vines ready to act on the offensive, more akin to working appendages that resemble a particular genus of magically-infused flowers that are said to sing in the springtime.

Because this is the closest Trey has to an elemental lean, and the type of spell he feels most comfortable using, he’s able to add a little more flair with the petals, although the plant life doesn’t quite refract the colors the way other elements do, which washes out some of his creative spark.

III. FIRE.

While most other people’s usage of fire spells is a little more bombastic, Trey’s is clearly used for more practical spells, and as such is the full breadth of power tends to be diminished. While the light refracts and gives colors suggesting flame, it’s never brilliant, and often time leaves behind more ash and smoke than actual fire. He can summon fire to scorch, just like the rest of his peers, but the default appearance suggests someone who prefers a finer control of the flame. Everything has a specific temperature before it begins to burn, after all, and he wouldn’t be a baker worth a damn if he didn’t pay attention.

IV. WATER.

One of Trey’s more reflective and shimmery forms of magic, although perhaps one of the more inconsistent. It tends to fluctuate in consistency somewhere between soap bubbles and melting snow, and always chilly no matter what. Once again, Trey prioritizes the control of magic over the actual output and what it looks like, but because he hasn’t quite mastered the ability to remove some of its brilliance, especially when the consistency is closer to bubbles than an icy deluge, the spell tends to linger a little longer in the air and burst into brilliant little shimmers of light.

V. COSMIC.

The hardest type of spell for Trey to master. As mentioned in a previous headcanon post, I do believe that cosmic spells tend to be more ephemeral and require a lot more control, concentration, and general mental flexibility in order to control entirely. Because this type can often take the shape of nearly anything, Trey is often at a loss when visualizing the spell to cast. It’s taken on colors that resemble his childhood friend, as consistently Chenya is the first person that comes to mind when speaking of such intangible, silly things.

[one-rosy-sock]

Coming Undone | Abner Krill x fem!Reader (1/2)

Go to the {Ao3 Link} for more info...

Fandom: The Suicide Squad (2021) Rating: T (M for future chapter) Summery: You’re a psychiatrist. You should know the warning signs when a relationship with a patient is becoming problematic. But you refuse to consider this, because Abner Krill is a lot of things, and violent is not one of them. Warnings: PTSD, childhood abuse, trauma, brief mention of past suicide attempt. 

Notes: no use of y/n Disclaimer: Author is NOT a real therapist. I do not own DC comics. __ The first time you met Abner Krill, he was recommended to you by a colleague at Belle Reve.

It had been several weeks since the convicted metahumans defeated Starro, that giant one-eyed starfish. Sometimes it amazes you to no end what strange things exist in this world. The Corto Maltese coup and monster defeat held onto headlines for several weeks until the next big thing came to top it. Seeing such exciting news affect your patients wasn’t unusual, but to have a high profile patient be a part of such news was a first, you’ll admit.

As for you, well, things were pretty much the same. You see your patients during the week at your office. You’re a licensed psychiatrist, and oftentimes you see men and women who have been convicted of a felony or are ex-prisoners themselves. It wasn’t a dream job for many women, much less anyone, to counsel people so troubled. You aren’t like everyone else, though. No, you might not have x-ray vision or super strength, or any super fancy gear to punch bad guys, but you do have a gift not many have: A good ear and an open heart.

And a prescription notepad, but you are determined to make your sessions more than just a pill dispensary.

You are aware of who Abner Krill is. The Polka-Dot Man. One of the metahumans who went to Corto Maltese and defeated Starro. This has partially immortalized him in the media as a superhero, despite his past as a prisoner. Some of your patients were metahumans too, but none as powerful or as widely known as the Polka-Dot Man. His identity and those of his teammates had been concealed from the general public. As of last week, you know his real name.

His appointment’s in the morning on a Tuesday. Your secretary came by as you were straightening up your office to let you know he had arrived. You fluff the couch pillows, throw blanket over the back, tissue box on the side table, a mild scent infuser on your desk. The century-old computer at your desk whirls to cool itself off. Earlier you'd taken the time to shoot an email to Ms. Waller confirming Mr. Krill's appointment.

You follow your secretary up front. She goes to her desk and you step into the waiting room.

Though foolish, you half expected to see Abner in his super suit. The polka dot suit and headgear. Instead, he’s wearing a pair of khaki trousers that hugged high over his hips, and a somewhat flashy, silk button-up tucked neatly into the waist. And, dare you say, a fanny pack. His outfit looked straight out of the 70s or 80s. You don’t know the definitive difference between the decades. But his shirt looks clean and pressed, the collar tucked down nicely. He has one leg over a knee, bouncing it rhythmically as he watches the fish swim around the tank in the wall. It looks like he tried to read a magazine, but stopped halfway, finger wedged between the pages.

“Mr. Krill?”

He jerked in response to his name, swinging his head up with a guilty look gleaming in his eyes. You think of a puppy who’s been caught peeing on the carpet. His expression, or perhaps the way his face was structured, reminded you of a puppy too. His face was somewhat sallow, somewhat droopy. Lines indicate a lot of frowning. Like a sad, droopy cartoon dog. His face narrowed down from his eyes, making his red cupid’s bow mouth seem small. A strong, straight nose dominates his face. His big eyes seem dark and questioning. Like a scared, lost child.

Krill quickly shoots up like a bean sprout, shaking his hands out. The magazine drops to the floor. He swears, bends down to pick it up, and anxiously fusses over righting it on the coffee table. You watch the way the glossy purple cuffs wave as he moves about in jerky, quick moves.

“Good morning, doctor,” he greets warily, avoiding your gaze and staring at your shoes.

“You must be Abner,” you smile. You reach out your hand. In a painful, pregnant pause he visibly wavers as he stares at your hand as if you’d stuck out a gun at him. Finally, he reaches out to take your hand.

He has a strong grip. Sweaty hands.

Hastily, he pulls away.

“Nice to meet you. Why don’t we head on back?”

He nods. His legs are long yet his steps uncertain, reminding you of a gangly adolescent. He follows you down the hall from the waiting room and awkwardly stands by as you open the door to your private office. You hear him pat his thighs as he waits. Like a shadow, he follows and sticks close but careful not to touch. Barely making a sound.

After your office door clicks shut, the two of you sit in your respective places. Your desk chair has a high back, cloaked in a fraying, multicolor knitted throw blanket. A bit garish against the dull beige walls and simple yet whimsical desk decorations beside you. There’s a poster that reads It’s OK to feel this way: over a circle divided by colors and sections, listing different emotions.

You pull your knees up and begin to take off your shoes.

Your patient stares in visible confusion.

“Would you like to take your shoes off?” You ask, setting your shoes aside as you straighten up in your chair. “I find it easier to relax without them.”

“Um…” he trails off, his downturned mouth pursing as he considers this. The tension rolling off him makes him stiff and hard to read. All you’re getting from him so far is how much he doesn't want to be here.

You watch him while occupying your hands with things on your desk so he doesn’t feel pressured to make a decision. From the corner of your eye, you watch him swallow, Adam's apple bobbing, and he slowly reaches down to untie and slip off his oxford shoes. He sets them neatly beside his feet. Hands tucked in his lap, sock feet on the ground. Looking up at you somewhat imploringly.

“This is a safe space, Abner,” you smile at him. You have your clipboard and pen in your lap, but you make yourself relaxed and as welcoming as you can. Note-taking can be done later. Visibly, at least. Don’t want to make him think you’re already assessing him before y'all begin to talk. Can’t force him to talk.

Ex-prisoners often struggle with reforming to civilization after release. He couldn’t be forced to attend therapy here despite the outside forces that pressured him to. If he wanted to walk out, he could. Abner was so tense he seemed to be walking on eggshells. He struggled to relax his shoulders, like his limbs were too long for his body. During all this, he hadn’t met your gaze one.

“Whatever we talk about won’t leave this room, unless, for instance, you said you plan to hurt yourself or someone else.”

This gets a reaction out of him. A grimace, a shake of his head. “No, I wouldn’t…”

“Of course not. You’re a superhero now, right?”

He grins. It’s brief, boyish, sheepish. He’s studying the design of your clothes. You consider that progress from your feet.

“You were recommended to me by Dr. Rooney at Belle Reve,” you begin conversationally, baldly, wanting to get a feel of where he was coming from. Your colleague had said Krill was not a violent inmate, but was often verbally bullied by other prisoners. He tended to avoid crowds, thus mostly avoided. More than once he had been on suicide watch. Casually, you glance down at your clipboard. Born in Philadelphia to Augustine Krill--father unknown--and tried and convicted for first-degree murder as an adult in the city of Metropolis. He was incarcerated at Belle Reve shortly after turning eighteen. He was in his early forties now.

You look back up at Abner. He had that sad puppy dog look again, staring at nothing in particular with his neck hunched.

“Did you and Dr. Rooney get along?”

“D-Doesn’t your notes say?”

You make a face. “I want to know what you think of Rooney, not what he thinks.”

Abner didn’t answer right away. “He was okay.”

“Okay,” you echo, licking your bottom lip as you cock your head up. “Okay is better than nothing.”

“We mostly spoke about my mother.”

“Oh?”

“She experimented on me and my siblings. She wanted us to become superheroes,” he said. His voice held much more confidence than anything he’d said so far, but his expression remained unchanged. It was because he kept words void of emotion.

“I see.” Yes, you did see. You had anticipated the topic of his mother coming up if you didn’t ask him about it first in future sessions. Dr Krill was listed in his files as a scientist at S.T.A.R. Labs, and having six children whom lived on site with her. CPC had been called a few times, rebuffed every time by various means other than being convinced nothing was wrong. The whole thing was fishy, especially after the untimely deaths of three of Dr. Krill’s children. The whereabouts of the other Krill children were unknown. All investigations into S.T.A.R. Labs had been terminated by higher powers, even after Abner’s arrest and psychological evaluation.

Abner continues, to your surprise. “I pictured Starro as my mother.”

“You did?”

“It makes it easier, when I convince myself that my enemy is her. I don't like killing.”

You pick up your pen and tap your lip, looking down at the way he was fidgeting his feet. “Did you regret killing your mother”

Abner’s knee stopped bouncing. “No.”

“Do you regret killing the other scientists at S.T.A.R. Labs? The--”

Abner grimaced and brought his hands to his head, tugging on fistfulls of black hair. “I-I didn’t mean--I-I--”

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to answer that today,” you placate with a soft tone, putting down your pen, fingers rubbing along the edge of your clipboard. After a moment of heated silence, you set your things down on the desk and stand up. This makes your patient crumble in on himself, trying to hunch low enough to shield some blow. You smile sadly where he can’t see. “Abner, do you see my poster here? With all the emotions?”

He looks back up, glancing from you to said poster. His attention is answer enough.

“Whatever you feel in this room is valid to you and to me. Not now, but in the future I’d like for you to give me short but detailed descriptions to how you feel on certain things. It's okay to say something you think is taboo or unorthodox. This room doesn't have ears or a head to judge. Do you think you can do that?”

The couch makes no sound as he moves to better see the circle chart of words. Timidly, he nods.

“Great,” you smile sadly and sit back down. “Let’s get back to that later. Today, I’d like to talk about something other than your mother.”

Abner tilts his head. You must be doing something to exceed his expectations, because now he’s looking at you and not at you. “The Corto Maltese mission?”

“No. I want to know about you. I want to talk about Abner Krill. Who are you?”

His blank stare makes your heartache a little for him.

The following silence, where all you can hear is his ragged breath, the whirl of the monitor, and the soft mist of the incense humidifier, is thick. You can cut it with the tip of your pen. The sound of his voice as he speaks is almost staggering. "I am... I am my mother's son."

“No."

He flinches.

"Your mother does not define you. What you think about your mother and how you feel about her should not determine your sense of self or your future. You liked defeating that monster, right?”

Abner nods.

“You’re a superhero because you took action, not because she moved your hand. What you say here today, and any day, should be the same. Do you think you can do this for me?”

“I don’t understand…”

“I want to know the real Abner,” you smile. “Not Dr. Krill’s son.”

He still can’t make eye contact. The fidgeting starts back up. “But, what I am is because of her.”

“Not unless you choose otherwise. Starting today, you and I are going to help define Abner Krill. First, you are not your mother’s son.”

“But I am?”

“No. You are not your mother’s son. You’re Abner Krill, superhero. What does Abner Krill the superhero like to do?”

Understanding slowly started to dawn on him, visible in his eyes as he lifted his slanted brows. Recovering from trauma was no walk in the park, but the two of you had to start somewhere. Rooney over-fixated on Abner’s fixation on his mother and the abuse, and after years of obsessing over it to “fix” him, it seemed to become all Abner could think about. No one had really given him proper trauma recovery therapy, or helped to treat his PTSD. You wanted him to take the first step into self-evolution. No one could do it for him. You want him to define himself other than his mother’s son. Seeing himself as a superhero was perhaps the start of it.

“I-I don’t know,” he frowned. “I like to read…”

“That’s great!” Your enthusiasm startles him. “What sort of things do you like to read?”

“Well… Ah, I-I uh... I like the classics….”

The rest of your session with Abner was mostly casual. The safe topics you steered him to visibly made the man relax. He spoke about the fictional worlds he enjoyed immersing himself in. He liked the classics because they were “soft”. Sweet romances where the only real worries were who’s going to the ball. He didn't like tragedies or novels about war or great violence. With some coaxing, he opens up to talk about his favorite foods, animals, celebrities, songs-- You ask about his (non-virus related) talents or any hobbies he might’ve picked up at the prison or since he’s been out. Steering him away from the topic of his mother confused him in the beginning, leading you to assume he had anticipated mostly speaking about her. He’d been prepared like he might prepare to go into battle.

You know he won’t be able to just brush his mother aside; his virus was because of Dr. Krill. He blamed his 20+ years of incarceration at Belle Reve on his mother’s experimentations. He blamed himself. He hated her. He hated himself. Feared her. Feared himself. It was an inner wound that would never heal, you know this without a doubt, but you hope with time it becomes easier to manage as he takes control and independence of his new life.

“Did you ever go to school, Abner?”

The phantom smile on his face falls, but you haven’t lost him as he turns to you. Looks at your shoulder. “No. We--my siblings and I--were… homeschooled.”

“Right. Well, you at least know what homework is?”

“Yes. Of course. Am--Do you want me to--?”

With a hand gesture you hope is placating, you smile and gently cut him off. “Don’t worry, I’m not assigning you an essay to write or a month-long project to present. I’m not that cruel,” you chuckle. “But I am going to push you a little. Can you try that for me?”

He looks as if you’ve asked him to consider sacrificing his firstborn. Thankfully, he nods as he plucks a loose string off his knee.

“I want to see you biweekly, so schedule with Patrica upfront. Maybe this Friday or Saturday?”

“I-I can do that, yes ma’am.”

"Now, it's your choice to come back or not but it would make me really happy if you did."

His back straightens. "Yes. I'll be here."

“Beautiful, Abner. Beautiful. Sometime this week I’d like you to do something you normally wouldn't do. Go on a hike, join a gym, take a class on cooking or arts and crafts. It can be simply looking up a food recipe you’ve never tried before and making it. Tell me about your experience. If you’re around strangers, how is your relationship with them? If you see something new, how does it make you feel? This isn’t an order, Abner, just a… strong suggestion, mm? All I’m asking is for you to do something new and spontaneous. It can be at home or outside. Your choice.”

Abner licked his lips. It had taken a great deal of effort to convince him to come here at all today. Today is the first time speaking to him, but you’ve had his file for a few days now. You’re a little grateful for that. There was a lot to read. However, it took outside forces such as one Amanda Waller and fellow ex-prisoner teammates to get him to come here. You suspect someone dropped him off if he didn’t take a cab himself. He had no driver's license.

“Ah… Okay. Um, yes miss. Ma'am. Doctor! Ah--”

“You can call me by my name,” you reassure, tilting your head to him. “This is a safe space for you and I. We may be doctor and patient outside that door, but here, we can be as familiar with each other as we'd like. Like old friends.”

He turned to you with a look that sent a thunderbolt of sensation down your spine. Surprise, awe. A silent question gleamed in his puppy-dog eyes. He doesn't respond, brows raised high as he just stares at you.

You cover for his lapse. “I’ll see you in a few days. It was wonderful to finally meet you, Abner,” you say, looking at him without pretenses to hopefully show your honesty. He had an incredible gift that could help save a lot of people, and from what you've learned from recent character evaluations on him he had the makings of a fine superhero. First thing first, he needed to adjust to civilian life after years of being locked up, and years of having nothing but unresolved trauma. All the while, you hold back a rueful smile at his demeanor. You won't say it aloud of course, but he was so cute. Idly, you wonder about his sexuality- but you can ask that another day. For now you wanted him to be a little more daring to try new things and focus on something other than his mother.

You stand up and shake his hand. His grip is a little looser this time, lingering longer, but he moves away quickly, gathers his shoes, and you see him out. His scurrying reminds you of a startled elk. Large yet quick, stumbling over his long legs. Running from you as if you held a rifle instead of a purple glitter clipboard.

It was hard to believe this man had committed mass homicide.

[utilitycaster]

Skill Proficiencies are the Bedrock on Which the Success of a D&D Party Rests, Monks are  a Utility Class, and Other Correct Opinions

This came up when I was thinking about the Cobalt Soul subclass and the discussion thereof, especially the dismissive way in which people sometimes treat the mystical erudition feature. I am also a bard player, in my longest-running game, and I prefer utility classes in general, so I decided to write a whole essay that maybe like 5 people will appreciate, two of whom are in my inbox (thanks for the encouragement, @ayzenigma and @agigabyte and one of whom is me.

In D&D, on a fundamental level, this is what happens:

A DM describes the world

You decide to interact with the world in some way

The DM decides if you automatically can do what you want, if you automatically can’t do what you want, or if there are a range of possible outcomes. If the last option, roll a d20.

The DM narrates what happens when you act or fail to act, ie, describes the new state of the world; the cycle begins anew.

The vast majority of those d20 rolls will be skill checks. Some will be combat rolls, which are a whole other thing, but most will be skill checks. Some will be incredibly important skill checks. Some will be relatively minor. Sometimes you’ll be aware of how important the roll is; sometimes you will not. Spells can sometimes guarantee or improve the chances of a success, as can some class abilities; but those are finite resources, and in the end a lot of D&D is resource management, and many of the choices you make in interaction are going to be influenced by what resources you have left.

Consider: the party comes upon a door with a single lock. The party is D&D four-person-party classic: a mage archetype, a thief archetype, a healer archetype, and a strength-based battler archetype.

The mage can cast knock to open the door. This does guarantee success, but it’s extremely loud and will not only alert anyone nearby but also uses a second level spell slot. They may be able to get around this if they or the healer also casts silence, depending on how you play it*, but that’s either another spell slot gone, or ten minutes wasted.

The battler can, for free, either kick down the door or attack it. This is also going to be very loud unless silence is employed, they might choose to use a finite resource (a once a day weapon ability, a rage) and even if this itself doesn’t alert anyone on its own, the big hole where a door should have been, or even the smashed keyhole, probably will.

The thief can, for free, pick the lock. Assuming they are specifically a rogue, because of their class build there is a very high chance of success, and specifically a high chance of quick, quiet, secret success even without additional help. And if they fail, well, the other options still exist and only a small amount of time has been lost.

Things like a single rage, or a second level spell slot, don’t seem like much on their own, but that is the other thing about D&D: usually you go to bed with some things left in the tank, but occasionally you do not, and as the resources get into the red line it is not terribly difficult to get into a death spiral of throwing your limited resources at a problem too large to be solved by them. When you’re in a game where, mechanically, there is no difference between having 100 hit points left and having 1 hit point left, but there is a vast chasm between having 1 left and having none, that extra second level slot worth of healing or damage can mean everything.

Or: at levels 5 through 8, with a cleric, the difference between an ally’s life and potentially permanent death is whether the cleric is left standing with one third level spell slot at the end of a battle.

This isn’t to say you shouldn’t use spell slots to achieve things, especially if they’re important; just that there’s a balance, and sometimes a single good thieves’ tools check, investigation check, or persuasion check makes just as much of a difference in terms of the party’s success as a high level spell, even though it’s far less flashy.

The game designers realize this. Older versions had the idea of taking ten: if time is not of the essence and there is no significant penalty for failure, you could take ten and guarantee an average job (which does still require some skill proficiency to take that assumed roll of ten to “pretty good”). This still remains in 5e in the form of passive checks. It’s a core element of the rogue and bard classes that they are people who are highly skilled - both have more skills than most classes and access to expertise, which significantly increases their proficiency bonuses and therefore reduces the chance of failure - and both have additional class features that either improve the breadth (jack of all trades for bards granting them partial proficiency in everything) or depth (reliable talent for rogues granting them a guaranteed average job) of those skills. Frequently, and especially for bards, this is not seen as a significant help, possibly because it rarely comes up in combat. This is wrong.

Here’s the thing: combat takes a long time at the table but in terms of what the party is doing, two minutes of combat a day (20 rounds, total) would be considered an incredibly difficult day. The rest of the time, you’re not in combat.

Here’s the other thing: how did that combat happen? Did it happen because someone failed a check - that a better stealth roll or deception check, perhaps made by someone with expertise in one of those two areas, could have prevented? Or if this conflict was inevitable or necessary, was the party able to use that stealth or deception to get a surprise round? Investigation, nature, arcana, or history to know a little bit more in advance about what they’re about to face? Perception or survival to even find the enemy they need to stop? Persuasion to gain an ally? All of these can make the difference between a success and a failure.

When you come to the end of a long-running D&D game, you will probably think back a lot to combat moments and RP moments, and unless it was one of those few clutch ability checks where you knew how momentous it was at the time you probably won’t think back to the dozens of locks picked without issue, or social encounters navigated with relative ease, but they’re going to be there, and you would have felt the strain without them.

This isn’t limited to skill checks, honestly; it’s a problem with almost all so-called fluff/flavor abilities. It’s interesting, in that the words we use to describe a well-built character are themselves quite neutral in terms of the specific build (min-maxed, optimized) but in practice many people assume these fit into one of two categories: the tank, or the glass cannon. Of course, those are combat-specific abilities, and see above with regards to combat. And maybe you are in a D&D game that is very much about combat and combat only, but if you’re not, that so-called fluff is far too dismissive of utility.

And monks, in particular, are more of a utility class than one would expect. Sure, they get a lot of attacks and they’re sort of tanks of the ‘too fast to hit’ variety and they can stun, but monks are utility in a negative-space sort of way.They don’t need your buffs, and a monk in your party, like a rogue who can pick locks or a bard who can talk their way out of trouble, saves your resources. They are incredibly fast, and don’t need longstrider or jump cast on them. They don’t need feather fall or fly because they run up walls and avoid falling damage. They don’t need to be healed, if they just catch the arrows that were shot and evade the area of effect spell; they don’t need a magic weapon (or any weapon); they don’t need a restoration to end effects, they don’t need protection from poison or disease, they save you the need to cast comprehend languages or tongues, they’re less likely to need a buff to help them save against other effects, eventually they don’t even need food or water. A monk, like a skill check, helps the party by saving finite resources. The Cobalt Soul build merely makes it a little more literal by granting the monk themselves the ability to make those skill checks.

In conclusion: skill checks are cantrips that everyone gets, and if a class got 8 cantrips when most others got 4, and they had an extra bonus to hit, you’d absolutely notice.

*per a quick search it’s up for debate based on the ranges of the respective spells and whether the lock needs to ‘hear’ the spell or not and anyway if this is what you choose to fixate on in this essay I cannot stress this enough: you have the reading comprehension of a slime mold and the sense of relevance of a Republican congressperson.

[zukkoxx]

confessing to you!

w/ bakugo, deku, shoto

bakugo 💥 (forced confession)

bakugo refused to admit he had a crush

it didn’t matter how obvious it was, he’d always deny it.

when people called him out about the way he yelled at you a little quieter than usual,

or that he put up with you more than his other classmates

or that he actually asked you if you were okay when he sent you a big blow during a sparring match,

he’d just make an excuse. saying he didn’t want to deal with your whining.

which was completely out of your character

you were as big of a hot head as him, which is probably one of the reasons why he liked you.

the point is, he would have to be held at gun point to confess to you. or so he thought.

denki knew about the blond’s little crush, without his knowledge. and the little bastard mustered up a plan to encourage him to confess.

it was monday, and present mic had just assigned a group project to the class for the week.

naturally, you, momo, denki, and bakugo became one group, being people that worked well together.

it wasn’t long before you finished the project, and by thursday, you and the others began practicing the presentation and making a few final edits.

however, this particular day, denki seemed to be acting strange.

for one, he didn’t sit next to momo like he usually did. he slid into the seat next to you, where bakugo usually sat.

he was also more flirty than usual. a lot more than the playful banter he did to get you flustered.

“oh y/n, you’re so smart! your part of the presentation looks amazing. i like a girl with some brains ya know ;)”

“y/nnn can you pronounce this word for me? wahhh it sounds much better coming from you!”

“hey y/n, what do you say i take you in a date tonight? sounds fun right!”

those types of comments continued on throughout the class until the next period bell rang and everyone began to part ways.

denki rushed out of the classroom, speed walking to his next class, knowing his angry friend would be after him.

he didn’t get far though, when a hand grabbed his collar and pushed him against a locker. denki looked up at the red eyes of his friend, shivering in fear.

“what the hell was that stunt you pulled back there dunceface!?” bakugo asked, coming severely close to the sparky boy.

“i-i-i don’t know what you’re talking about dude!”

“do you think i’m stupid? you were flirting with y/n right in front of me! you know how i feel about them-” bakugo stopped himself before he said too much, but a familiar smirk was already spreading across denki’s face.

“so you do like them?”

“obviously dumbass. but here’s no way in hell i’d tell them.” bakugo scoffed.

“why nottt?” denki whined

“i doubt they like me anyways! and besides, i don’t need another side character clinging onto me. it’s a stupid little crush. i’ll be over it in no time.”

“that sounds like loser talk to me bakugo.” denki shrugged.

“what the heck do you mean you idiot!?” bakugo yelled.

“i mean...you wouldn’t want someone else to confess to y/n right? someone with the balls to try to get them. they’re pretty cute...i might even try myself-” denki’s sentence was cut off by a flashy slap to his neck.

“as if i’d let some low life extra confess to them before me. especially not you!” bakugo yelled. “i’ll confess to them. i’ll confess and they’ll accept it....or dieee.”

friday had rolled around, and you had approached your locker at the end of the day.

opening it, you stepped back in surprise when a singular rose fell out of it.

you picked it up, and proceeded to read the note that was attached to it.

i like you...you idiot. i don’t know how you haven’t figured it out yet, but i like you. meet me at my dorm tonight so i can say it in person. >:(

- katsuki bakugo

deku 🥦 (accidental confession)

getting izuku to confess was a pain in the ass.

he wanted to, he really did

but his shyness and overthinking didn’t allow him.

every time he would get close to trying to confess, he thought of all the possible ways it could go wrong

what if they didn’t like me back?

what is i mess up and totally ruin everything?

usually, izuku was thankful for the way his brain was able to come up with many solutions for different situations.

it was especially useful in his training to becoming a hero.

but at this moment, he just wished his brain didn’t think so much!

in reality, there had always been a mutual pining going on between the two of you.

you liked him too, but you never thought about confessing.

he was trying to become the number one pro-hero, and always had so much going on. there’s no way he would be thinking about being in a relationship right now.

so, it had been like that for a few months. a constant pattern where you and izuku would smile at each other sweetly, or you’d compliment each other during training.

he’d walk you to your dorm when it was late at night, and give you tips on how you could improve your hand on hand combat.

honestly, people from the other classes already thought you two were dating, and you even confused your classmates when you’d act like a complete couple in front of them.

maybe it was the god’s of fate who were tired of the both of you silently gushing over each other....not so silently

but whatever compelled izuku to say what he did, you thanked it.

it was lunch time, and you and izuku were in an intense conversation about your hero internships.

you were telling him about how you helped your boss catch and detain a criminal. you were really proud of yourself, considering you basically did it all by yourself since the hero you were interning was caught up with some other thugs.

izuku listened in interest, smiling wider as you told your story.

“that’s amazing, y/n!”

“thanks izuku! honestly in the beginning i thought i wouldn’t be able to catch him, but i kept trying. plus ultra right?” you teased.

“of course y/n. see, that’s why i like you so much. you have so much passion and integrity that i admire so much!” the green haired boy beamed.

it was silent for a few seconds while you both processed what he said.

when izuku realized he basically threw himself under the bus, he tried to deny it.

“i-i mean-”

“you like me?” you asked hesitantly, hoping you heard him right.

“NO! i mean- sure i-” he stopped himself before he said anything else he’d regret. he decided it was finally time to come clean. “yes...i like you y/n. i have for a while now.” he sighed.

shit, here comes the rejection....

“why didn’t you say anything sooner!?” you asked, making izuku look at you in shock.

“w-what?”

“i like you too izuku...” you shyly confessed. “i didn’t knowing you felt the same. i just thought you were being your usual nice self.”

“well i do like you y/n. and i’m glad you like me back.” izuku sighed, softly taking a few of your fingers in his hand.

“yeah...i am too.”

shoto ❄️🔥(straightforward confession)

honestly, todoroki was the most oblivious as it could get when having a crush.

he didn’t really understand the idea of romance or love, having his childhood being stripped from the emotion.

so when he felt his heart tug a little more when you smiled at him, it confused him.

when he found himself wanting to know how your day went, he wondered why he cared so much.

he thought you were like every other one of his friends, but there was obviously something more.

so, he tired to distance himself from you to try to figure out what he was feeling.

maybe being away for a while would let him get his head straight.

it had been a few weeks, and you noticed he talked to you a lot less than usual. there wasn’t anymore soft smiles when you walked into class in the morning

and he didn’t even walk with you to the classes you shared like he usually did.

when you approached him to ask about it, he shut you down quickly. “i’ve just been busy, y/n.”

you decided to respect his decision. maybe he just didn’t want to be friends anymore.

but that was completely the opposite!

it was so hard being away from you. every minute he wondered what you were doing and if you hated his guts for shutting you out.

as a last attempt, he went to ochako to get answers. maybe she would help him figure out what was going on in his head.

“todoroki...you have a crush.” she stated as if it was the most obvious thing.

it was

a crush?

he supposed she right. why else would he be feeling this way? yeah. he definitely liked you.

so he didn’t let the confusion linger, heading to your dorm right after realizing.

he knocks on your door, and you peak out to see who it was.

“oh? hey shoto.” you muttered, opening the door a little more. “hi y/n. i just wanted to say...i’m sorry for ignoring the last few weeks, and i like you.”

you stood frozen, shocked by the sudden confession.

“if you don’t feel the same, it’s unfortunate, but i respect it.” shoto added, feeling eerie at your silence.

“i do!” you blurted out. “i like you too.”

he smiled, finally feeling content.

~~ be sure to send request on what you’d like me to write about here!-> 🥀

[missnight0wl]

do you ever wish HPHM took their story the way The Arcana does? with our choices actually matter leading to different storylines with different endings

Absolutely!

Now, to be fair, I don’t think that The Arcana is perfect when it comes to “choices that matter”. I mean, I might be wrong about it, but I believe that The Arcana considers the percentage of choices for both Upright and Reversed Ending, right? To be clear, I’m not saying it’s a bad system either. In fact, I think it’s really good, especially since we talk about a mobile game. But still, I just wanted to point out that technically, it’s possible that you choose the same option in one specific situation and get different endings because of your other choices. Again, feel free to correct me if I’m wrong because I’m not The Arcana expert.

Still, I do think it’s a good system nonetheless. Moreover, I believe it could totally work in HPHM. For instance, I was really hoping that something like that would be applied to Ben in particular. Ben was always a very… polarised character. So, I think it’d be very interesting if he had a big moment in the story which depends on your previous choices in general: whether you were mostly supportive towards Ben or you were choosing mostly options not to trust him etc. The percentage approach would work really well in a situation like this. Of course, Ben is just an example, and it wouldn’t have to be just about one thing.

You know, HPHM would probably benefit from being more like The Arcana in general – and I’m thinking here mostly about the style of a visual novel. Having just a couple of sprites of characters without the need for animating 3D models would allow Jam City to invest more in the writing department. Because if you think about it, the better (or rather “more flashy”) HPHM becomes from a technical point of view… the worse writing is. I imagine that Jam City has more or less the same budget for this particular game, they just put it into different things over time. And so, they might be currently hiring fewer writers or perhaps not all of them work full-time and whatnot. It’s obviously just my assumptions, but… it does make some sense, doesn’t it?

Oh, and on top of that, with a typical visual novel, it’d be probably much easier to make the characters look older. I mean, all you have to do is to change the sprites, right? You don’t have to adjust animations etc.

I know that with this system we probably couldn’t have all of the events, Jam City couldn’t force us to grind the attributes etc. But hey, other visual novels somehow make it. And I always believed that the original story of HPHM is more suited for a visual novel than an RPG (at least if we want to keep it a mobile game).

[flygefisk]

whats the lore with ipswich being turned into a common dragon? :0 they seem super interesting

ooh they would hate being called 'common dragon' lol,, lore under the cut! and a reminder that my lore varies pretty heavily from canon, especially in its magic systems and views on non-dragon species

tl;dr ill-advised and unethical pokemon catching gets guy no one liked killed and now the pokemon's pissed, more at 11

so up until ~150yrs back, it was a pretty common practice among magic users to 'bind' creatures that were 1. more magic-based in their biology and 2. seen as "less sapient" than dragons. binding is basically tying that creature's essence to a container, to be let out to serve their captor. usually as bodyguards or servants, sometimes just especially flashy pets.

most of these creatures were things like imps and spirits, which have a similar intelligence level as say, a very vindictive house cat. the stronger/more skilled mages, though, would go after ""greater"" creatures, elementals and demons and monsters, some of which far surpassed their captors in strength and intellect but could still be caught in a binding spell.

(more meat-based critters like beastclans don't have enough magic in their systems to fall victim to these binding spells, and the fair folk are immune. trying to catch a fairy creature is a Bad Idea do not attempt.)

trade of these bottled beasties wasn't too common, actually- smaller critters could be traded without much issue, but clever ones could often make a break for it when the protection clause switched owners, and kill/maim all parties involved. plus, the kind of mages who really enjoyed this practice were both vindictive and paranoid, and feared sellers wouldn't transfer said protection clause. to be fair this did happen. often.

not too long before this practice fell out of use, it became trendy to make your bottled critters fight those of your rivals, and mages began to seek out rarer and more powerful creatures to ensure their victory and/or safety. like a very high-stakes and unethical pokemon battle.

the mage who bound ipswich was one of the most skilled and widely known beastkeepers at the time. he was also known to be a smug and overly confident prick who relied entirely on his "pets" to keep him safe- magically brilliant, but physically weak. ipswich never bothered to learn his name so i didn't give him one.

ipswich was to be his greatest prize- a terrifying eldritch creature brimming with arcane power, the greatest jewel in his crown. and he did manage to bind them! ...but he'd made a tiny mistake in that protection clause, the bit that prevents a creature from murdering whoever just bound them.

it kicked in just a moment too late, just after ipswich was wrapped up in the main spell, but before they were contained. that moment was more than enough for ipswich to swallow him whole. moron.

the practice of beast-binding didn't last long past this. not necessarily a direct result, but that this master mage died working on it definitely helped. too many mages had been immolated/shredded/melted/etc, and folks had kinda known that it wasn't ethical. in most places it's banned, in a few it's still technically legal but it's difficult to get your hands on the components, and it's a major career killer.

most bound creatures have been freed (in one way or another) in the past century, but ipswich's bottle only washed up very recently. that particular mage was especially paranoid, and his binding spells were written completely differently from anyone else's, and of course he never told anyone about it. so until wick can figure out how to break it without breaking ipswich too, they're stuck with him.

ipswich (understandably) holds a deep-seated resentment towards dragonkind in general. they hate all of this. but, land-folk food is good, if a bit overcooked. they like throwing fries for the seagulls (usually at people, so they get swarmed), and sea-storms from above the water are mesmerizing. and, wick is... interesting.

addendum: read the bartimaeus trilogy for more bastard mage vs dickhead captive spirit fun (it is a big insp for how i use magic in my various settings and also a very good time)

[swimfuel]

Hey!! The X-men are literally my favorite thing and I was wondering if you could elaborate on how Scott is a knight of doom

YES OF COURSE!!!! i'll put it under a cut since i tend to ramble a bit & i'm pulling a bunch of explanations from people smarter than i am

the knight weaponizes their aspect; they have an inherent understanding of their aspect that allows them to exploit it completely. doom is the aspect of systems, restrictions/limitations, sacrifices, and endings.

one of scott's core themes is reclaiming his restrictions in order to serve others/the greater good! he takes the possible liability that are his faulty powers and shifts them to become an advantage, largely through the strength of his restraint and discipline. his role as a tactician and the way he sees sacrifices (more on that later) also mesh EXTREMELY well with the knight of doom.

i feel like the Wh*don run (specifically astonishing x-men #22-23) really highlights how scott can turn a situation on its head through exploiting his disadvantages to the point where they become tactically advantageous!! like, let's count the ways:

the ship the x-men stole from kruun is obviously bugged, so his team won't be able to communicate without being overheard. he realizes this, and uses that restriction (being overheard) as an advantage, by falsifying their course of action.

he has been left "without his powers"—he presents a restriction that lowers the guard of his adversary and grants him entry to their home base. he then subverts this by exploding the shit out of everything when an opportune moment arrives

HE LITERALLY EXPLOITS DEATH...... HE EXPLOITS HIS OWN DEATH...................FOR THE GREATER GOOD..........DUDE???? someone get this man an advil

some more thoughts, followed by some examples by people smarter than me:

he exhibits a similar pattern of idolization/realization with xavier irt karkat/HICand dave/bro.... not sure if this by itself is a knight-y thing but i think the consistent disillusionment with their role in defending their aspect is interesting (aka knight burnout, more on that later)

he is def willing to sacrifice shit for the greater good of mutantkind. the shit in question sometimes being his closest friends and allies. the examples that stick out to me are how he allowed beast to get tortured (utopia era) while executing his plan to solve All His Problems At Once & also when he sent x-force to the future to defend hope knowing it was going to be a one-way trip

that entire issue revolving around just how GOOD scott is at self-repression😭😭😭 i'm pretty sure it's post-schism utopia era i don't remember the exact issue WAIT NVM i'm pretty sure it's uncanny #518

seeing phoenix!scott as an inversion to (rogue of) life is also an interesting concept (unchecked growth!)

the amount of responsibility he feels he has to take on (partially due to his idolization cycle w xavier/xavier's dream) is also both knight-y and doom-y

and of course the instinct to protect the people around him --> being expanded into the whole of mutantkind (which, in turn, expands his sense of obligation)

everything leading up to revolutionary cyclops is also very interesting through this framework because its reminiscent of the knights & doom players in hs! the "taking on an insane burden" (phoenix force, whatever whammied mituna) -> the "resignation to the fate handed to him by his aspect" (his stint in prison, dead daves, sollux in general) -> the "refusal to accept that fate" (prison break, dave not wanting to use time travel, sollux fucking off into the dreambubbles, karkat coming to terms w his relationship w leadership) --> experiencing knight burnout at the end of revolutionary era going into death of x

im not sure exactly how to put it into words but everything about his childhood/teenhood... like being surrounded by forces seeking to control him and use him for their own ends..... idk

(from @/land-of-classpects-and-analysis, sections highlighted red are of particular interest)

HIS GIANT STINKING MARTYR COMPLEX.....DUDE😭😭

side note & ive mentioned this before but scottjean is an interesting parallel to davejade in a way i cant verbalize

Then there are the ones who may accept [the fact of inevitable human suffering], and so choose to live in high alert of any danger - any threats - as well as living in fear of what harm may befall them and/or their loved ones. It is this third and final group of people that so deeply marks that of the Knight of Doom.

Now, this might cause a few eyebrows to become quirked. After all, a Knight? Being fearful of something - nevertheless that thing being related to their Aspect? Knights do often present themselves as ruthless and fearless warriors, yes, but that is only because their Aspects and the world around them raised and called them to act as such. 

... A key factor in the Knight’s life, specifically before their journey truly begins, is that they are already well equipped with their Aspect.

... The Knight of Doom is one where their Aspect being all around them is far more bittersweet than anything else.

... What is important to acknowledge is that the facade the Knight of Doom puts up is not only to hide the fear they have for their Aspect, but it is most definitely there to hide the grief and pain they have not yet completely finished going through. Whether it’s been weeks or years, the Knight of Doom is someone who would rather hide themself away from these feelings than find a way to truly mend and heal them ... they have built a false wall between them and their suffering strong and thick enough to partially block it from their memory. 

... Knights are known to become extremely stubborn whenever people try to order them around and pressure them into doing something, and the Knight of Doom is no different - especially if they believe what they are doing is for the greater good. 

(from @/dahniwitchoflight)

Dahni’s Explanantion: “Doom can be a negative force that rejects and harms, fostering a sense of hostility or sadness. But, it is also the idea that you can pull backwards and cautiously and wisely withdraw into your own self.  It can be the idea of Control taken from the sharp Black and White Restrictions that everything in the world gets sorted into. It understands community necessity and need, responsibly pulling back and lowering you down into its lap to help wind yourself down. Doom then is an ultimate gentle Equalizer, instilling its players with an internal sense of Acceptance and eventually true Wisdom.”

Knight of Doom: One who Exploits with Doom or Exploits Doom

Knights hide a fear of a perceived fundamental failure with their Aspect behind a shield of confidence and obsessive effort. Their challenge is to learn to take it down a notch and to understand that they are skilled enough

A Knight is very skilled with using the rules and limitations of any game or session to their advantage. They skillfully fulfill any responsibility or obligation required of them with ease. They might use their natural caution and pessimism to make realistic choices and endeavors. They use and exploit any rule or limit that they can to their advantage. They might also be very good at exploiting any sacrifices made or any obligation or responsibility that they are held to. They might be very good at avoiding any unnecessary thing or person and are very good at recognizing when something is too futile to even bother with.

Likewise they might only focus on the necessary things in their game or session so they are likely to not do much unless it’s absolutely necessary. They would very likely be very meticulous with themselves about following the rules properly and constantly restrict themselves, maybe thinking they aren’t following the rules properly enough or not following the right ones. They might sacrifice anything they consider unnecessary about themselves or the way they live, sometimes even going too far with it, in order to be considered or thought of as less useless. They’re always trying harder and holding themselves to extreme self-imposed standards.

They would likely wait for the opportune moment to strike, though they are slow to move or act, they always will when something necessary needs to happen. Out of all the Doom players, a Knight of Doom seems like the one most likely to sacrifice themselves for the greater good. A Knight of Doom can also expertly use and exploit fire, bombs and explosions to their advantage, maybe they create flashy distractions during fights. They might even use decaying or dying things to their advantage.

(from @/communistvriska)

Role in the Session: Rather like the Prince of Doom, this role’s title kinda has “edgelord” written all over it, but that’s not a set-in-stone character trait. The first thing that comes to mind re: what the Knight Class and the Aspect of Doom have in common is a strong sense of obligation. The Knight of Doom is bound to take their duties and responsibilities Extremely Seriously, perhaps rather too seriously at first ... Knights also tend to be very protective of both their Aspect as a concept, and of themselves and those close to them; while the Knight of Doom isn’t likely to be outwardly aggressive, given Doom’s reserved, slow-burn tendencies, woe betide those who try to deceive or confound the Knight or their allies. One of Doom’s internal contradictions (which I find personally fascinating) is that the aspect is associated both with cynical resignation and with a profound albeit restrained sense of passion and persistence. Doom is what’s left after everything else gets burnt away.

The Knight of Doom will likely be a very skilled combatant, as the Knight is a class strongly associated with Strife / battle, and Doom is one of the more overtly destructive Aspects. I’d put them in the Top 5 Roles to use a cool flamin sword, at least. They’re not going to be eager to fight, per se, but they’re not going to have much trouble scaling the echeladder when it comes to that either. Internally, they’re likely to struggle with a perceived (but largely imagined) inability to fulfill their duties, and they could well stumble once or twice in their quest to be perceived as reliable and stoic, or as someone who their friends can lean on. They’re probably doing more than enough already, but if they’re not careful they might overexert themselves and take on too heavy a burden, and they’re liable to be crushed by their own expectation that they face their challenges alone. This is going to factor into their capital-Q Quest and the environment of their planet, and will be the biggest obstacle in their path to Ascension. A Knight’s duty is to protect their co-players, but their co-players also have to support them.

[thepapergirlandthespiegelman]

Might stop reading Worm.

Content warning: bugs/insects/arachnids and related horror, body horror mention, miscellaneous violence mention, sexual violence/assault mention

My thoughts on the first ten arcs of Worm. (contains spoilers)

So, I finally got around to reading Worm. It was kinda big when I was in high school, and I still know some people who are/were into it, so I thought it was time that I gave it a serious shot. I did actually try to read it in high school once, but I couldn’t get into it and stopped reading after the first chapter. I tried to be a little more persistent this time to give it a fair evaluation.

When I started reading Worm this time around, I kind of just breezed past the warning at the beginning (“This story isn’t intended for young or sensitive readers. Readers who are on the lookout for trigger warnings are advised to give Worm a pass.”) I don’t consider myself someone who really gets triggered by media. I think it’s important to talk about stuff, including fucked-up stuff. It’s uncomfortable, but that discomfort is part of the point. I think it probably should bother you to read about terrible things, even fictional ones, given that those fictional atrocities almost always have real-world counterparts.

I think I vastly underestimated the amount of fucked-up-ness that is in Worm. When I read that warning, I thought, “Okay, this story’s probably dealing with some dark themes, and there might be some particular scenes that are really disturbing.” After reading the first ten arcs, though, I feel it’s more accurate to say that fucked-up-ness is Worm. It is the core of the story, and there is really very little else.

So it’s not that any particular thing that happened in the story triggered an immediate, strong, psychologically-damaging reaction in me, but as I continued reading, I began to notice that not only was I not enjoying myself, I was actually finding it subtly unpleasant. When I read about something bad happening, I get hit with a small dose of negative emotion. As it turns out, that adds up over time, especially when there aren’t any positive scenes to balance out the negative stuff. Without me even noticing for a long time, Worm was making me unhappy.

Here’s what I did like about Worm:

Impressive world-building - Wildbow is exceptional at inventing different locations, groups, and individual actors and thus creating a detailed ecosystem of capes and civilians.

Lots of characters, lots of superpowers - Directly related to the previous point, Worm contains a lot of characters...arguably too many characters. I generally prefer stories that focus on a smaller number of characters in order to give each character more room for development, but I appreciate Wildbow’s talent for coming up with vivid, if simplistic, characterizations. There are also some really interesting superpowers and interesting takes on common powers.

Inventive use of Taylor’s superpower - Taylor is always coming up with new uses for her power: having black widow spiders spin silk for her suit, using her bugs are a sixth sense to keep track of her enemies and environment, using venomous bugs to take hostages, covering her body in bugs as a disguise, coating her bugs’ stingers in capsaicin for extra punch, using human-shaped swarms to fake out her enemies...The list goes on and on, and I really appreciate how Wildbow took this oft-overlooked superpower to the next level.

Danny Hebert - The only character in the story who I can say I genuinely like. Danny Hebert is a union organizer whose pet project is getting the ferry up and running again so that there can be more interaction between the poorer and wealthier parts of Brockton Bay. I also loved the scene where he supports Taylor in the “mediation” with her bullies and their parents at school. Even if he was impotent, unable to protect her, I could tell he was on her side. His one screw-up is when he locks Taylor in the living room and tries to force her to talk to him, but it definitely makes sense with his character (a little bit of a pushover) and the story (Taylor was shutting him out and seemed to be putting herself in danger) that he would end up letting Taylor’s grandma convince him to take a forceful approach. Don’t get me wrong, locking up your kid is a horrible thing to do (I should know, my parents did it to me, and it fucked me up), but I still ended up feeling bad for him when Taylor just up and disappeared. She didn’t even call her dad to let him know that she was still alive after Leviathan! I mean, on the one hand, I do actually appreciate that she started making an effort to protect her father from the dangers of her cape life, something that I was kind of appalled to see that she never even considered before. But damn, did I feel bad for Danny.

Here’s what I didn’t like:

Way too much fucked-up shit happening - Name an atrocity, Worm’s probably got it. The plot is mostly just terrible thing after terrible thing and reveals of how terrible all of the characters are, with many terrible things that aren’t directly treated in the plot peppered in along the way.

Lots of capes, no heroes - This is one of those themes that sounds deep on paper but is really just cynical and fatalistic. Even if all the capes are corrupted by power (or by the toxic power dynamics between capes), what about civilians? Where’s the thoughtful therapist or the brave fire-fighter? Danny Hebert is one notable exception to the “Everyone is terrible” rule, but we don’t see all that much of him. Other than him, the only person I can think of who could possibly fit this “civilian hero” role is Aisha’s social worker, who I don’t think even has a name.

All superpowers are evil - This is arguably just a rephrasing of the previous point, but I think it’s important to mention. Worm contains so many superpowers, but it seems like they’re all being put to evil purposes. Panacea, the superheroine with healing powers (really just dominion over health and illness of the human body in general), makes some really despicable threats (e.g. giving someone cancer with a touch, or giving someone a disorder that will only manifest at an unknown time in the future, leaving them to anguish over their fate). Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing inherently wrong with writing a character using this type of power for evil ends. There’s a lot of interesting stuff to explore there, and I actually love that Panacea is a character that acknowledges the burden of having a healing power, feeling unable to take any time for yourself while simultaneously growing to resent those you feel obligated to help. My issue is not with Panacea but with the fact that literally every superpower in the story is painted in a negative light. It just feels absurd to suggest that, for example, someone like Gallant couldn’t use his power (carefully and thoughtfully and with consent) to heal people with emotional trauma. Superpowers in Worm are only for violence and conflict and crime, and I just don’t understand that. Again, the rogues form a token exception, but we rarely actually see them, and one of the first rogues we meet, Canary, is immediately subject to harsh and unjust punishment and never heard from again.

A misguided focus on only certain types of crime/violence - Worm deals with gang violence, robberies, and general chaos-inducing terrorism. It focuses on crimes perpetuated by working-class individuals and small to medium size illicit groups. There’s some commentary on state-sanctioned violence in terms of the corruption of the Protectorate and Dragon’s worries of having to obey a despot should one take over the government, but it’s not exactly framed in a way that highlights the struggles of the average person; the focus is almost entirely on capes. Worm doesn’t discuss things like wage theft, illegal rent hikes, or, dare I say it, the inherent violence of capitalism, which, while less flashy, are important problems with far-reaching consequences. It’s weird, and honestly kind of unrealistic, that there’s not a single anarcho-communist cape. Whether you agree with that kind of politics or not, it’s still a glaring omission if the setting of the story is trying to emulate real life. Again, Danny Hebert’s role as a union organizer and interest in restoring the ferry and reintegrating the city pay token attention to some of these ideas, but the vast majority of the story is unconcerned with addressing the source of, or solutions to, poverty and crime in Brockton Bay and the wider world of Worm.

So those are my thoughts. There’s a part of me that still thinks, “But so many people like this so much! Maybe it’ll get better!” I have a really strong drive to understand why others like the things that they do, to be able to share in their appreciation. But from what I’ve seen in a couple memes I happened upon, things are getting worse, not better for the world of Worm. And even if things start to resolve at some point, I’m not sure it would be great for my mental health to continue reading up to that point.

The breaking point for me, if you’re curious, was when a main character was just casually revealed to be a serial rapist. That wasn’t even the point of the chapter, it was just kind of thrown out there as an extremely-not-fun fact. So I was still reeling from that reveal while also experiencing all of the atrocities said character was committing in the moment, and after that was when I realized, “Hey, maybe this is not the kind of content I should be reading.” It even took reading a few more chapters into Arc 11 for it to really sink in, but I had this weird revelation of like, I get to choose which fictional worlds I spend my time in, and the world of Worm isn’t one I relish.

If you do enjoy Worm, I’d be curious to hear your thoughts on what makes it appealing to you.

[arknights-imagines]

Oooo for the Christmas letter/gift event could I request dobermann writing to her fem!operator s/o who is stationed further away for the holidays please? I'm soft for her 🥺

From, Dobermann

Christmas Letter and Gift event

It was so cold; you really should’ve bought a thicker coat, though in your defense, you hadn't been expecting to be sent out on an extended Operation for the Holidays, especially not one in the outskirts of Kjerag, the literal snow realm.

Returning to the Rhodes Island camp with the rest of your squad, you put your weapon away with a sigh, watching as your breath fogs up before you. Your squad captain nods at you all, firmly reminding you and your squadmates to prepare to escort another convey in a few hours. With a salute and word of affirmation, you part ways with your squad, heading back to your assigned cabin.

“[Name]?” The relief on your face dissipates immediately when you hear your captain calling for you. Expecting to be assigned with a new task that would leave you with even less time to rest, you answered with a less than eager nod.

The dread on your face was gone in an instant when you were handed a package; a plain, lightweight cardboard box. You accept it and lift a brow, “Who’s this from?” Your squad captain shrugs, “No idea, a messenger from back at Rhodes Island delivered it earlier today and told me to give it to you. You can deal with it inside, it’s cold out here.”

You can't disagree with that - with a respectful salute, you part ways with the captain, finally able to step into the warmth of your cabin.

Exhausted, you shed your coat and toss your weapon aside before sitting on the edge of your cot with the package in your lap. There’s no sender’s or recipient’s address or name, and you don't remember ordering anything - regardless, you open it to satisfy your curiosities. Upon opening it, you briefly inspect its contents; nothing in particular catches your eye, but the first thing you see is a sheet of paper stamped with the Rhodes Island insignia. Just from the neat, slanted handwriting creating paragraphs on the page, an expression of serenity comes over your face as you realize just who the package is from.

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

[Name],

I regret not being able to express these thoughts to you in person, but in our situation there isn't much that can be done. So, this cardboard box and its contents are my compromise.

I may be risking my job if I say this, but I find the Doctor's decision to dispatch you so far away at such late notice is unwarranted - and so close to the Holidays as well… you should've called me, I would've given them quite the earful. What's passed is passed, however, and if the Doctor finds its best, then I can't argue.

I hadn't expected much to change around Rhodes island during Christmastime, but against my expectations, everything practically exploded with festivities. Bright lights hanging from the walls and the atmosphere filled with this mushy warmth despite the fact the weather is freezing outside - ha, can you believe the newbies even expected an extended break from the training program because of the holiday season? Maybe it’s too harsh of me to deny them any sort of vacation...but the way I see it, war doesn't pause its advances just because of Christmas, so neither should we.

To be honest, Christmas and its traditions aren't something I particularly enjoy; it’s all a little tacky. Maybe it's because as a military woman Holidays were never something I had the luxury of enjoying, but that's besides the point. There’s been various attempts to try and put me into the “Christmas Spirit”, but they've been useless for the most part, and end up in awkwardness or embarrassment - while I appreciate everyone's efforts, it's more of a hassle than anything.

Ha, just today, one of the trainees gifted me a box of pricey, Siracusian hot chocolate; yeah, chocolate…. It’s not their fault, after all, chocolate is widely loved by many people. I just happen to be part of the minority who can't stand it. Besides, something that sugary would ruin my diet; I’ll most likely just end up leaving it in the staff lounge or cafeteria for anyone to take. Hm….I’ll deal with it, don't worry about me.

Other than the Holidays, a few other things have been on my mind. For one, you forgot your heavier coat at home, and it's practically a 24 hour long blizzard outside; don’t freeze out there, or there might just be fifty laps around the training grounds waiting for you upon your return to Rhodes Island. But in all seriousness - [Name], be careful out there. Back here at Rhodes Island, festivities are in full swing and most things have been light hearted, but where you are, you don't have the luxury of slacking off or getting sloppy.

Ha, now that I think about it, a lot of my thoughts have been about you. Maybe it’s concern for your safety as your boss, or maybe it’s me as your lover missing you and your company. You know [name], if you told my past self that you were going to be my lover in time, I probably would have laughed at you in a dry, unamused tone. If something happens to you out there...Don’t be an idiot; follow your orders.

On a more heartening note…I decided to purchase something for you. It's a gift; Don't ask me when or why I bought it, but I’ve had it for some time. I just wasn't certain when the appropriate time to give it to you would be. Presents are meant to be exchanged during the Holiday season, so I’m giving it to you now. It’s not very extravagant or eye-catching, but it’s a gift nonetheless.

“Christmas Spirit”, huh? It’s been years since I bought someone a gift I put this much thought into...Maybe all those efforts from the trainees and other instructors worked after all. Heh, moving on.

After you return, I’ll free up a few days on my schedule around Christmas Day. Training physicality is important, but caring for the mind is as well. It’s been quite some time since we had some time to ourselves; I may be a very disciplined person, but I’m not heartless. I think stepping away from work to spend time with the one I love is justified, and I’m sure you'd agree that we both need a break.

This upcoming Christmas will be one of the few I spend off the field of battle, and the very first I celebrate with you. Ha, something tells me that if you’re with me, I might end up enjoying these Christmas traditions and rituals; I’ll be honest, window shopping, building snowmen and dancing to Christmas carols don't sound as ridiculous when I imagine myself doing them with you.

I'll cut this short, we can't have you losing focus, now can we? One last thing I have to tell you - you should know this already, but...I love you, [name]. I'm going to stress this again; stay safe for me, don't get distracted. Now get back to work.

Dobermann

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

With all traces of exhaustion gone from your eyes, a smile paints your lips. Your eyes stay on the letter for a few moments longer, grasping tightly onto the feeling of warmth that fills you at Dobermann's words. When you pull your gaze away from the letter you realize something still remains inside the box - and then you remember that Dobermann had mentioned a gift for you in her letter.

You place the letter on your pillow, then take the smaller, neatly wrapped box out of the bigger cardboard one. You tear away the plain brown paper from the small box, after removing the lid from it, your eyes widen just slightly.

Sitting inside of the box is a simple silver bracelet, and engraved on the band are the words ‘never to part’. Smiling with adoration behind your eyes, you remove it from the box carefully; the bracelet feels durable and fits on your wrist perfectly. It’s not flashy, and compared to jewellery studded with diamonds and decorated with carefully carved patterns, it can't compare - but between you and Dobermann, it carries all kinds of meanings and messages reserved only for you and her.

A small pit forms in your stomach as a sudden yearn for Dobermann passes over you - sighing slightly, you trace your fingertips over the words on the silverband. Your eyes slip shut; you wish you were back at Rhodes Island, sitting in silence while watching the snow, with your head on her shoulder and her arm around your waist. A little hesitantly, you reopen your eyes, and you notice that there’s a sticky note stuck to the bottom of the previously wrapped gift box, with rows of words in Dobermann’s handwriting filling it.

Lifting a brow slightly, you unstick it from the box and read it slowly; ‘I want to be together with you for a long time, and if we want to stay with one another we both have to be strong...think of the bracelet as a reminder of that fact.’ Once more, a small smile paints your lips, and at the very last words of the note, you chime with a light laugh, ‘Merry Christmas, [name]. Take care of yourself, or I’ll do it for you.’