#select tool strikes again

[i-dontknowwhatimtalkingabt]

I have no words people :D *kaboom, I dissapear again*

[dolldefiler]

[Oh look, it’s bird boy ignoring all his responsibilities again. There’s no sex here, I’m just warming up my fingers, feel free to skip. Not that you shouldn’t feel free to skip the others…]

C/W: Rapey, impact, misogyny, patriarchy, domestic abuse

The sign of a good, broken housewife would be her skill in the kitchen. I’d all but confine her there, stepping in occasionally to look at her work. I wouldn’t know anything about the food she’s making but I’d still explain how fucking stupid she is to her.

“No, you fucking moron, you’re supposed to put a pinch more salt here,” I’d yell, “Don’t be an idiot!” I’d make large strides towards her. She’d shrink and recoil, her fists bundled up in fear. I’d slap her sharply for whatever reason I wanted. Women are property after all. She’d sob silently, afraid of drawing my fury any further. It wouldn’t matter.

“Oh—oh, for fuck’s sake, are you crying now?” I’d ask, impatient and annoyed at my inferior fucking slave daring to show her emotions. “I said. Are. You. Crying. Now.” I’d punctuate each word with a harsh slap, sending her sprawling across the cold, tiled floor. She’d break out in heavier, uncontrollable sobs and hear the soft clicks of my shoes against the floor. I’d walk to the drawer, selecting my tool of torture.

She’d beg and plead… if she knew any good would come of it. In reality, she’d simply lay there and curse her own stupidity for not putting enough salt in. What a pathetic housewife she was. My punishment device in hand, I’d pull her up using a fistful of her hair. I’d wave a wooden spatula in front of her face and ask, “So, you dumb cunt, can you tell me what this?”

“A-a sp-sp-spatula?”

I’d let go of her hair and slap her across the face again. Again she’d be sent to the floor. With an impatient sigh, I’d pick her up again. “It’s a spatula. A spatula. Not whatever the gargled mess that left your mouth was. Now tell me what it’s used for.”

“Y-yes, I’m sorry, Sir. It’s used to—.”

I’d slap her before she’d finish her sentence. She’d look up at me from the floor, pain and confusion in her eyes. Not a smidgen of anger. I’d have beaten that out of her months ago. She’d blame and hurt herself for these mistakes. She wouldn’t even be capable of pointing a finger at me. I’d shrug, as if acknowledging her silent question. “It’s not like you’d have gotten the right answer anyway, your brainless bimbo.”

Her humanity would be too broken to break even further by now. She’d simply accept my words as gospel. “A spatula is used to punish stupid, talentless whores like you that can’t cook.”

I’d spread her legs roughly and pull up her skirt to reveal her bare cunt. Perhaps it’d glisten, perhaps it wouldn’t. I wouldn’t notice or care. I’d simply strike her several times without warning. Again and again, beating her cunt with her own spatula while she’d hold onto the kitchen counter. She’d hold in a scream at first before bursting out into a noise of sheer animalistic pain.

“SHUT. UP. WHILE. I. PUNISH. YOU.”

I’d scream, striking her harder and faster. Gone would be the thinly veiled facade of punishment. I’d simply hurt her for the sake of hurting. Inflicting pain on her red cunt until she’d collapse.

She’d lay there panting, too exhausted to sob, to hurt to move. I’d throw the spatula down onto her limp body, watching the head hit her face at a painful angle. She’d flinch.

“Clean yourself up, you pathetic fleshlight. I’ll shove that spatula up your fucking asshole if dinner’s not ready by 7.”

[howtofightwrite]

I have character A whose born female, small in stature and well trained in hand to hand combat and character B whose born male, a few feet taller, fucking huge and has had to rely on strength his whole life. Realistically how can two people like this fight and for how long? what kind of qualifications could character A have to help her beat character B in hand to hand combat? at what point does strength win over strategy or vice versa in a fight? does any of this make sense lol

Nope.

Okay, so, how long can Character A fight? As long as she needs to, which based on your assessment, shouldn't be too long.

Character B cannot fight. Unless they have training that you're not disclosing, they won't be effective.

“My relies on strength to fight,” is a bit like saying, “my character drives their car via their sheer physical strength.” It's not how this works.

Unarmed combat isn't about strength, it's about a precise understanding of human physiology, and exploiting the limitations of it.

For example: You may have noticed your knees only bend in one direction, however, this is a lie, your knees can bend in any direction they want to, provided a small application of force in the correct point which will permanently expand your knee's ability to move in this new direction. It's not strength, or at least, not a meaningful amount, it's about looking at your opponent's body as a mechanical system, and then selectively breaking it until it stops trying to break yours. The funny thing about this is, if you don't know what to do humans are obnoxiously durable. Unless you get lucky, you can literally rip limbs off and still fail to kill them.

A lot of the philosophy of strength fighting is built off a misunderstanding. Force is important. However, when it comes to weapons, the weapon itself amplifies and delivers that force. For example: hammers are often portrayed as strength weapon. You'll see them being carried around by huge bulky bruiser types (when it's not played for laughs, anyway.) However, real sledges are not extremely heavy. A real sledge can get as heavy as ~20lbs (~9kg) (normal ones are less than half that), which is extraordinarily heavy for a weapon, but getting it swinging isn't that hard. It's designed to be swung. Once it's at speed, it will connect with a lot more force than you could generate based on raw physical strength. The basic physics are that you get the hammer's head moving significantly faster than the haft where you're holding it. The basic woodcutters strike where you start with one hand at the bottom of the haft and one near the head, then slide it down the haft as you swing makes it even easier to get it moving.

(Worth noting, there are sledgehammers designed for exercise, rather than as tools, and these get a lot heavier, but they're for building up muscles. Which, to be fair, there's nothing wrong with a character who's absolutely ripped, and there are ways they can use that to their advantage, but it doesn't help them fight, just like it doesn't help them drive.)

Beyond that, as we've mentioned a lot recently, swords really are not a strength weapon. It's a long razor blade, which needs to be carefully applied to your opponent's soft screamy parts, not their armor.

The one weapon that really is a strength weapon is the bow. If you're a professional archer (using historically authentic weapons, rather than mechanical compounds bows) there's a very real potential you'll be ripped. You're pulling a lot of weight in your shoulders. Of course, bows are also very high maintenance weapons, which isn't often reflected, but weapon maintenance is often an underrepresented in general.

When talking about unarmed combat, the amount of force necessary is shockingly low. Again, it's about exploiting the body's limitations. Knowing where to put pressure lets you use your opponent's body against them. Most people, “normal people,” don't look at other human beings as 100-200lbs of ambulatory meat stretched across a pulley system. When you start learning anatomy for the purposes of combat, the ability to break another human being starts to become frighteningly simple.

So what happens? She quickly neutralizes her opponent.

How long does that take? Depending on training? Could be less than five seconds. Certainly less than a minute.

What does neutralize mean in this context? I dunno. It could mean that he's subdued and gradually losing consciousness. It could mean that he'll never dance or play piano again. It could mean his next date is with the coroner. All of these are reasonable potential outcomes depending on who she is, and what she trained to do.

Remember what I said near the beginning. (Assuming she has a practical combat background) her job is to break his body before he does the same to hers. If he's a big bruiser type with no context of violence outside of John Wayne films and high school scuffles, she could kill him. In a lot of cases, she needs to, because she doesn't know what his background is, and the faster he is permanently scratched off her threats column the better. From her perspective, leaving him on the board poses an immediate and critical threat to her life.

This is the other thing about violence, you don't know what your opponent can or will do. When you're assessing a threat like this, you need to have a plan to remove them. “Do unto them before they can do unto you.” That doesn't always mean, “kill them,” but we're talking about a walking mountain who's at least seven feet tall. At that point, life altering injuries start to sound a lot like reasonable force, and justifiable lethal force is just around the corner. Depending on his behavior, it may already have arrived.

So, how long does this take? Not long.

Strength only wins out over strategy if the strategies are poor or poorly implemented, if she has combat training, that shouldn't be a consideration. Beyond that, people are far more predictable than we like to see ourselves as. Good combat training includes a surprising amount of practical insight into how people behave. Realistically, he's not going to be able to do anything she hasn't trained to counter, at least not if he doesn't have some training of his own. And, again, even if he was to have training, his strength wouldn't be the deciding factor, his training would be the important consideration.

-Starke

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[lilacmingi]

MY MUSE

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Word count: 840

Pairing: Hyunjin x fem reader (all my imagines are fem reader but there are no gendered terms in this one)

Note: I enjoy drawing and painting, so this might be a bit of a self-indulgent drabble haha

★ ────────────────── ★

Art supplies sat neatly on the table in front of you, each one ready to use. Pencils, sharpeners, erasers, and blending tools were laid out before you. Anything you could possibly need was within reach and at your disposal.

Hyunjin's sketchbook sat across from yours lying open on a blank page, his supplies lined up tidily beside the book. Your setup looked very similar; your pencil case was positioned beside your sketchbook, your own sharpener right beside it, as well as your eraser.

Hyunjin had some time off and so the two of you had planned to have a night of drawing together.

You watched as he grabbed his plastic headband and put it on, pulling his lengthy onyx hair away from his face, displaying his perfect features. He then grabbed his phone, humming to himself as he scrolled through his music library perusing the different genres and selecting a song to play before taking a seat across from you.

He gave you a gentle smile. "You ready to get started?"

"I am." You nodded.

You opened your sketchbook to an empty page, unzipping your pencil case and pulling one of them out. Unsure of what to draw, you sat idly for a few seconds, twiddling your pencil while waiting for inspiration to strike. That's when your eyes landed on the man sitting before you, already hard at work sketching across his page.

Your muse.

The tip of your freshly-sharpened pencil hit the page and you got to work, sketching out shapes and rough outlines, glancing up at Hyunjin every few seconds to make sure your draft matched the model.

The ball of your socked foot tapped against the carpet, matching the rhythm of the relaxing indie song that played from Hyunjin's Bluetooth speaker as you allowed yourself to get immersed in your work. All of your focus was zeroed in on the masterpiece in progress. The sketch was coming along well, though there was a couple times you had to keep erasing the lips and redrawing them because your sketch just wasn't doing justice to the real thing.

You loved this. Sitting peacefully while drawing with your loving boyfriend and listening to music was something you've been wanting to do with Hyunjin for a while. Even though there were no words being exchanged and you were both sitting in silence while concentrating on your own artworks, it was still absolutely perfect. One of the many things you loved about Hyunjin was being able to be in his presence and not having to say a word. Wether that be drawing, cuddling, or watching a movie. Just having him there was enough.

Your sketching ceased for a few seconds as you swapped out your pencil for one with darker lead so you could begin shading and darkening the lines of your drawing.

No more than thirty seconds later you were back to work, dragging the sharpened edge of the lead along the faded lines you'd roughly sketched out earlier.

"Relax, love." Hyunjin chuckled, pressing his thumb between your brows to smooth out the creases.

Your face relaxed under his touch as you let out a soft chuckle. "Sorry."

"You're really focused, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"That's cute." He murmured, his eyes lowering to your sketchbook which you were quick to cover with your hands.

"No peeking."

"Alright, alright." He chortled, picking up his pencil once again and proceeding with his sketch.

The supplies which had once been laid out neatly were now scattered across the table, each one being dropped without a care as to where it landed. Neither of you had time to gently place down each item once you were finished with it, you were far too focused on your sketches. An unknown amount of time had passed since you first sat down, both you and Hyunjin getting lost in your craft. You were so engrossed you didn't get a chance to see what he was drawing.

"Alright." You huffed out, pushing your hair away from your face. "I'm finished."

Hyunjin was quiet for a moment as he quick scribbled his signature at the corner of the page.

"Me too." He announced.

You held your masterpiece to your chest, not wanting him to see just yet.

"Are you ready?" You asked.

He nodded and you flipped the page around.

Hyunjin's brows raised as he took the paper from you so he could look at it closer.

"You drew me." He stated in awe.

"Of course I did. You're my muse."

He chuckled softly, handing you his drawing.

To your surprise, an image of you sitting and drawing was portrayed in shades of gray pencil lead.

The both of you were drawing each other without even knowing.

"You're my muse too." He mentioned.

Your eyes gazed over the sketch in awe, admiring his seamless shading and the way he captured your features so well. He truly was blessed with a talent for art.

"You made me look so beautiful." You murmured softly under your breath.

"Because you are beautiful, darling."

★ ────────────────── ★

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

★ ────────────────── ★

[dragondeplatino]

Designing Pixel Art Textures

Working on a Minecraft texture pack presents some unique challenges, so I thought I'd share some of the problems I've been working through. Minecraft is used as an example here but this advice can apply to pixel art textures in general!

Note that these tips are targeted at Aseprite users, so grab your copy if you want to follow along!

The first big challenge of any texture is ensuring it tiles properly. It's easy to make something that looks great in isolation but shows some ugly patterns once it's tiled. Humans are great at picking up patterns in seemingly random noise so try to evenly spread out areas of high and low brightness!

The best way I've found to fix this is preview as you go! There are two quick methods for this:

Select the entire texture and press Ctrl + B. This will turn your tile in a brush which you can paint in a large area to preview. Make sure Pattern aligned to source is enabled.

Copy the texture and paste it into a new file. Enable View > Tiled Mode > Tiled in Both Axes and you can get a looped preview as you edit the sprite.

Second big problem is getting your contrast wrong. Too high, and your texture can be exhausting to look at when tiled over a large area. Too low, and it can resemble "programmer art" and lose out on a lot of the fun depth that contrast provides. Strike a balance!

Again, two methods for adjusting this:

If your sprite has its own palette, you can go to Sprite > Color Mode > Indexed to convert it to indexed color. Open the lock icon, then click one of the palette's colors. Now drag your color sliders and see the palette update in real time!

Sometimes your sprite is already in a large sheet or you don't have a palette for it. First, create a selection around your tile. Select your fill tool, and make sure Contiguous is unchecked and Tolerance is 0. Any fills you do will update that color throughout the tile!

This one falls more under opinion than fact, but plan around textures being visible up close. Lots of anti-aliasing looks great from a distance, but can make forms look muddy when it's pulled right up to the camera. Unlike 2D games, the player has the power to blow up your pixel art to half their monitor's resolution so keep that in mind!

Well that's all for this post! Let me know if there's anything else you'd like me to go over on this topic!

[onlyapuppy]

adopt me.

part 1/3?

[ reader x transmasc ]

(reader has no implied gender. genital terms used for transmasc character include tcock, cock, and pussy)

cages lined the walls behind the front desk, each one contained a Puppy, all different sizes and breeds and builds. the crates along the back wall stacked two high, while others were given a spot in the window, visible to anyone walking down the street. 

“welcome to the adoption center, please sign in here and then we’ll walk you through the process!” the woman at the counter chimed. 

you thanked her, jotting down some information on a form at the desk, nervous excitement built in your chest. 

she took the form, briefly reviewing it, nodding as she glanced over what you had written regarding your preferences. 

“i’m sure you’ll find we have a few that meet your needs perfectly.” she led you behind the desk.

“feel free to let me know if any of our pretty pups catch your eye, but i have a few in mind that i think will satisfy your needs!” the attendant draped a few leads over her arm, opening a kennel here and there and clipping them onto the pets’ collars. they each followed obediently behind her, whimpering each time the leashes tugged them forwards. 

once she had three Pups trailing behind her, she opened a door, which lead to a quiet room. this room was dimly lit, with five plush-lined crates surrounding a low bed, simply adorned with a lush bedspread and a few pillows intentionally scattered across it. a few display cases lined the walls, impact implements hung from hooks, and shelves were stocked with any toy one could imagine.

the Pups each trotted over to their crates when she released them from their leashes, already knowing their places. 

heat spread through your veins as you took in their obedience, their eyes all wide with anticipation. they can’t wait for what comes next, and it strikes you as cruel to keep them waiting any longer. 

you’ve nearly forgotten she was standing there, but the attendant breaks your train of thought as she secures the last of the three Pups in their kennels. 

“now, take your time with them, really see which of these Pups can best,” she pauses, “meet your needs.” you feel yourself blush, despite yourself. “you know where to find me if you need anything. help yourself to any of these tools. we find our best pairings come from really getting to know the Pups and how they respond to a variety of experiences. enjoy yourself!” she said with a pleased smile, exiting the room and closing the door behind her. 

your heart pounded in your chest as you approached the first cage, opening the latch. 

this Pup is small, but his body is rounded and soft. he shook his shaggy fur out of his eyes, looking up at you with wide eyes as he timidly crawled out of the cage, gently nudging your leg with his nose, shying away from your gaze. 

“hi, there,” you whispered, voice low and comforting. “would you like to join me on the bed?” 

he nodded eagerly, a pitiful whine breaking through his little mouth. he hopped onto the bed and crouched down into a waiting position, but it’s apparent he’s not capable of being patient much longer by the way you can see his hips shift against the pillow he’s positioned over. 

you smiled, reviewing the selection of toys and selecting a few that catch your eye. the Pup blushes when you return to the bed, but doesn’t have enough shame to stop himself from grinding against the pillow.

“do you need to be touched that badly?” a hint of a mocking tone enters your voice. your first Pup whines, nodding over and over again, hips pressing harder down as he chases a pleasure that keeps slipping out of his grasp. 

“come here then,” you gently command, and he’s immediately climbing into your lap, his back pressed against your chest. he whimpers.

your hand slips between his thighs. his black panties had disguised how wet he was, but one touch reveals the extent of his desperation. louder whines break from his throat, and softer whimpering echoes in turn from the other two Pups, still locked in their cages, eyes glued to your hand. 

the Pet’s hips jump away at the touch, but quickly return. he starts rutting against your fingers with no more hesitation, precious whines slipping through his lips with each thrust into your hand. 

you slip your fingers underneath his underwear and find that his sweet little tcock has grown swollen. brushing your fingers over it, he gasps. he throws his head back against your should, and you can see his cheeks burning red.

overwhelmed already, he didn't anticipate the vibrator that you pressed against his pussy, powering it on before he had a chance to react.

with one arm, you held him tight against you, the other held the wand firmly to his dripping pussy. he cries out louder now, overstimulated by your touch, the sensation of the toy as you let it drift up to his cock and back down to his pretty pussy. 

his hips jerked against the toy rhythmically, in time with his pitiful whimpers. his nails scraped at your thighs as you pressed the toy firmly against his tcock, his cries raising in pitch.  

out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of the two remaining pups. the first had her tongue lolled out as she rutted against the blanket in her crate, eyes glazed over with pleasure as she watches you.

the second is laid down in the most precious position, obedient and proper, though you can tell it’s strained. the look in their eyes is desperate, and they look as though they might begin to cry if forced to wait much longer. you make a mental note to make it worth their wait, to praise them for their good behavior. 

turning your attention back to the pup in your arms, he begins to paw at your arm, whining as though he’s been starved and you’re holding a treat just out of reach. your hand falls to his dripping pussy and he lets out a sharp cry, ever so sensitive. you begin to slip your fingers around his slick, messy pussy, teasing closer and closer before sliding two fingers in, curling them deep inside him. his whole body responds, he clings to you desperately and the noises he makes sound like heaven. 

you want more. you pump your fingers over and over again, wrenching pleasure from him. and you love the way that you are solely responsible for those cries, the way his body can’t handle the ecstasy you induce. you feel him clench around you, swelling with his approaching orgasm and you press on, feeling his wetness, his warmth envelop your fingers and you go faster, drawing him nearer and nearer to the edge until he falls. falls so deep into pleasure that he can’t even hold himself up any longer. 

breaths heave his chest, whimpers slipping from his lips on every exhale. you let your fingers slide out slowly from between his legs, his cum nearly dripping from your fingers. 

his lips part willingly when you bring your messy fingers to his mouth. his tongue dances around your fingertips, lapping at them, he let's out pleased little noises. you praise him, whispering what a good boy he is, what a good job he did making such a mess for you. 

his pleased gasps and hums have your heart swelling with pride.

"what a precious little pet..."

[dailycharacteroption]

Jistkan Artificer (Magus Archetype)

(art by Daniewise on DeviantArt)

Two weeks ago when I did the entry on the iron-ring striker, I swore I remembered there being a second unarmed strike-focused archetype for the magus, but I couldn’t remember what it was called, and now by a miracle of list placement, I have been reminded of it again tonight.

In Pathfinder, the Jistka Imperium was the first nation to arise in the Inner Sea region after Earthfall, and was well-known for their mastery of magic and technology, particularly the art of construct-crafting, particularly golems, though perhaps their most lasting legacy was the automatons, constructs with the souls of Jistka’s finest.

While Jistka is long gone, defeated by Ancient Osirian and the Tekritanin League, the relics of their advancements remain in the form of sleeping constructs, wandering automatons, and those who carry their knowledge forward into the future.

One group of these remnants and historians is a group of warrior-mage artisans that seek to perfect their combat magic by combining it with golemcraft. They do this by replacing one of their limbs, most commonly an arm, with a constructed prosthetic animated by the same elemental forces used to power and give will to golems and other similar constructs.

Whether they deliberately replaced their limb or simply decided to turn their need for ordinary prosthesis into a focus of their power, these warriors can bring their foes down with a literal iron fist (or whatever they decide to build it out of)

These warriors start with their first golem arm, but they can rebuild it later made out of any special materials they might desire, though tooling the parts makes it more expensive. Even still, the result is a powerful limb with a surprising  amount of striking power and which they can focus their arcane power into to strike down foes with raw enchantment or various elements. However, their focus on learning how to animate and control this limb does mean their spellcasting knowledge flags slightly behind compared to other magi.

As they grow in mastery, they improve the magical forces of their limb to sport better and better enchantment as a baseline, making it that much more effective.

Naturally, they also learn how to channel their touch spells through the arm as well.

This archetype also comes with a selection of new magus arcana tied to it. The first of which lets them take advantage of the antimagic properties of golem animation, letting them block ranged attacks from spells as long as they have the time to react and the arcane energy to make their limb flare with power.

Whether it be greater training, magical speed, or mechanical improvements, one such arcana lets them strike faster as a monk might, though they can only strike twice with this method. (This may need some clarification, as it seems… underwhelming for an arcana you need to be mid-level to take)

Others learn to equip their arm with a blade so they can stab or slash foes, as well as boost the weapon with enchantments to improve their chance of dealing grievous wounds or cause extreme bleeding.

Others, however, learn to use their arm as a shield to block more mundane blows.

Since the golem arm is both an unarmed strike and a manufactured weapon, there are all sorts of fun ways to use spells and the like. Unlike the iron ring striker, this archetype is less focused on touch spells, but as usual, spellstrike invites their use. The fact you can use the arm both offensively and defensively, as well as how it slowly enchants on it’s own (but is separate from actually enchanting it yourself) means you’ve got some fun options as both attacker and defender. Overall it doesn’t really change the function of the magus, but it does grant a fun and flavorful way of attacking with some good progressive enhancements.

It's tempting to try and apply cyberpunk themes to an archetype like this, but unless your setting draws heavily upon the themes of the genre, they don’t really apply well to the tone that the archetype presents. These prosthesis are, after all, custom-built by the character themselves, so there’s no worry about corporations repossessing your body parts or claiming ownership over your body.

However, what is a good theme to explore here is transhumanism as well as empowering the disabled, the former seeking the strength of the machine and exploring what it means to be human and whether that can be maintained without a human form, while the latter explores what it means to have a disability and not only counter but surpass those limitations. Of course, the latter works best if you roleplay moments of dealing with the disability. Tinkering with the arm with one hand, having to put it on every morning, the struggle if it gets stolen… et cetera.

Industry in the city of Whitestar is notorious for the death and dismemberment of the laborers on the ground level. The consortiums offer magitech limbs to restore functionality, but they cost so much as to put the recipients even further into debt for essentially the rest of their lives. However, there are those that fight against this exploitation, creating limbs free of the bindings of those provided by the companies, and give the most proficient wielders the power to fight back.

Though a mere human, Vekus competes in the Gorromak Arena alongside orc and troll warriors, using his enchanted wooden leg to great effect to even the odds as a martial artist. With it and his magic, he has a chance to rise to the top, but those on high would rather he be sent careening back down.

The pixies and other fey of Allenfor are in a state of paranoia and fear. Those who can calm them long enough to ask learn that a dark figure with an iron fist of cold iron has been hunting the fey, destroying all they find with spell and lethal strikes. Who this person is and what their vendetta against the fey is not known, but they must be stopped.

[aesethewitch]

Shufflemancy Testing: 50 Song Playlist Summary

Shufflemancy theory testing is underway. I did a lot of thinking on how I wanted to do this, and it came down to the information I was trying to glean in the end.

My Method

My primary concerns with shufflemancy (and, indeed, other forms of divination using digital tools) are: 1) The interference of algorithms in the shuffle process; and 2) The lack of variety and length in a given playlist.

To address both concerns at once, I came up with the idea of creating several playlists of increasing length. Each playlist contains all songs from the one preceding it, plus an entirely new selection of songs sourced from my many, many playlists and from others' massive playlists at random. They are 50, 100, 200, 500, and 1,000 songs, respectively.

I'm skipping the same number of songs each day (hitting play in the list to start it in Spotify, then skipping 3 songs) while asking the same question at the same time ("What should I expect today?")

Ideally, I would do this every day. But... well, ADHD strikes, and I missed a couple days. Even so, I decided at the start to dedicate a full week to the process, and so I've stuck to seven days to test each playlist.

It's worth noting that I have little to no shufflemancy experience prior to this. I'm aware that my lack of skill and expertise may affect the quality of my divinations with this, so I plan on returning to the 50 and 100 song playlists after the 1,000 song playlist just to be certain my skill level isn't playing into the output.

Once I've completed the circuit and have a baseline using these criteria, it's time to... do it all again, kinda. But with a change! I eventually want to answer the following questions:

Are songs more accurate first thing when I start my day, or are they better done the night before?

Does the number of songs make a significant difference? Does seven skips yield a better or worse result than three? What about five, or ten?

Is a longer-winded dissection of the song's themes, background, and artist more or less accurate than a basic impression? Or, on the other hand, does a bare bones, keyword-based description work best?

Does the information I'm taking down matter? Are the tempo, tone, and length relevant somehow? Or does the title, lyrics that "pop out" at me, and overall themes of the song do the job?

To answer these questions, I'll choose whichever playlist ends up being the most accurate and make individual variations to be tested over a seven-day period.

As I've mentioned before, I'm using Spotify for this test. But once I feel I've done all I can there... I'm swapping platforms. That's right, I'm not just testing shufflemancy itself, I'm testing to see which platform is really best for it!

This whole process is going to take a long while. I plan on updating with full details for Ko-Fi supporters fairly regularly, with a breakdown of songs I shuffled to and my notes during and the day after. Folks on Tumblr will see a basic list of songs and ratings for how accurate it was to the day in question.

With all that said, I've done seven full days with the 50 song playlist. How did it go, you ask?

50 Song Playlist Breakdown

Day One

Question: What should I expect today? Shuffles: 3 Times Song: "What It Takes" Artist: Aerosmith Rating: 3/10

Day Two

Question: What should I expect today? Shuffles: 3 Times Song: "I'm So Tired" Artist: Fugazi Rating: 1/10

Day Three

Question: What should I expect today? Shuffles: 3 Times Song: "Professional Griefers" Artist: deadmau5, Gerard Way Rating: 3/10

Day Four

Question: What should I expect today? Shuffles: 3 Times Song: "I Wanna Be Your Man" Artist: Willy Moon Rating: 6/10

Day Five

Question: What should I expect today? Shuffles: 3 Times Song: "Megalovania" Artist: Toby Fox Rating: (a generous) 5/10

Day Six

Question: What should I expect today? Shuffles: 3 Times Song: "Halloweenie IV: Innards" Artist: Ashnikko Rating: 7/10

Day Seven

Question: What should I expect today? Shuffles: 3 Times Song: "Fancy" Artist: Iggy Azalea Rating: 0/10

Average Rating: 3.7/10

To see a full breakdown of each day, including lyrics that stood out, my immediate takeaways, and post-reading dissections, visit my Ko-Fi page! The full article is exclusive for supporters -- as little as $1 gets you access to my full backlog.

[whumpflash]

Penumbra: Unrest

For Angstpril, Day 3: No Escape

cw: torture

previous ///// masterlist ///// next

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The first night had been fruitless, but Nisha was undeterred. It was their own fault, really. They'd been too enthusiastic with the rod, aggravating wounds and eventually just beating Cerus with it. The former king had passed out before Nisha even got around to removing the bit.

Today they'd be a little more deliberate.

After dusk, they made the journey down the stairs. Forty-eight hours since their last visit, carefully counted. Guards had been instructed to watch over Cerus and ensure he did not sleep. A job they'd managed quite well, Nisha saw, as they entered the cell to find the prisoner had changed position, now hanging from his wrists. The runed cuff was still in place on his forearm.

Perhaps the Shadow King would already be in a talking mood. Nisha unfastened the iron bit and pulled it from the prisoner's mouth, watching as the man's jaw shifted, clenching and unclenching. Likely the first true free movement he'd been granted since his capture.

A stream of hoarse words in a foreign tongue poured from Cerus's mouth not twelve seconds after the bit's removal, the rhythm and enunciation too precise to be anything but an attempt at a spell.

Nisha took a step back, preparing to reach for their weapon if the need arose, but the runed cuff held true, momentarily glowing a dull violet. Cerus let out a hiss of pain at the cuff's activation, quickly ceasing his incantation.

"I see you're well and prepared then, traitor," he said in the same cracked voice. "What will you have with me?"

"Only the truth," Nisha replied.

"And how will you get it? Through more blows? Another sleepless night?"

"If that's what it takes, but tonight I brought water," Nisha said. "I can offer you peace. A swift death."

"A pittance. I will take nothing from swine like you."

It was almost entertaining. As trapped, as helpless as he was, Cerus's pride remained intact. Nisha wondered what it would take to truly break him. To make him beg. They looked forward to finding out.

"Very well," Nisha said, moving to the wall of tools, eyeing them carefully. "I suppose we'll go with your first idea then. Blows and sleepless nights."

They selected a whip from the wall. Certainly not as precise as a thumbscrew or a knife, or even a meticulous magical torture, but there would be time for those later. Holding it coiled in one hand, they moved around to face Cerus's back.

It looked like some of the guards had already taken liberties. Fresh welts spread over the back of the chained man's thighs, and new bruises mottled his ribs, shoulders, and hips, some of which had been left by Nisha's own hand. 

The realm maintained laws against deliberate harm to a wounded man; even a prisoner under interrogation had the right to recuperate between sessions. But Cerus was more monster than man, and so it was with a clean conscience that Nisha delivered the first strike.

Cerus bit back a scream, his body spasming under the lash. Nisha gave him little time to recover, bringing the whip down again and again in an erratic rhythm. It wasn't until fatigue had begun to set in that they stopped, leaving Cerus's body bleeding and shuddering, slumped as far as the chains would allow.

Satisfied with their work, Nisha circled around to face the Dark King, reaching out to remove his blindfold with a none-too-gentle hand.

Cerus's eyelids fluttered as the cloth came away, red-rimmed grey eyes glaring up at Nisha. It was a wonder he hadn't passed out.

"I'll remember your face when I free myself from this prison," Cerus muttered in a voice tinged with pain. "Your death will be a slow one."

Nisha only smiled in response. "I will see you tomorrow," they said, replacing the blindfold, and then the iron bit. Cerus struggled against both, but in the end there was nothing he could do. Nisha took the bloodied whip with them to be cleaned, and set out to find a healer.

Cerus couldn't be allowed to bleed out.

They were only getting started.

@whumpwillow @rabbitdrabbles

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[purplekoop]

Gonna try and commit myself to updating the DWS cast to presentable quality, here's the shadowy boxer... uh... Shadow Boxer! Yep, sticking to that pun as being his whole name.

Story and gameplay details below:

This being made of spectral shadow energy is a mystery to most, including himself, as he's lost the memories of his former life as a human. All he can remember of his past is the goal to be a world championship boxer, despite never being anywhere near heavyweight material. After awakening in the backstage area of a fighting arena filled with supernatural creatures, an unusual masked man explains to the quickly dubbed Shadow Boxer that he's been selected as a possible champion. As he rises through the ranks, he crosses paths with the passionate demonic wrestler Diabla, who takes a shine to the young boxer and agrees to help him regain his memories, despite his protests.

In the ring, Shadow Boxer is a speedy and unpredictable fighter, with an array of tricks to keep his opponents guessing. While he has some quick hard-hitting moves, he's not exactly a combo fiend, and instead gains and keeps an advantage by baiting a wrong move, then exploiting it hard all at once.

While his arsenal of entirely punching-based attacks means he can get outranged by other fighters, his Shadow Sphere projectile can help keep up the pressure from a distance. After flinging off a small ball of shadowy energy from his arm that floats in place briefly, he can then strike it again to send it flying based on the power and trajectory of whatever punch he hits it with. Pressing the special button again or holding it during the initial fling will perform a special punch that causes the fireball to be launched directly forward slowly. He can also keep up the pressure with Phase Strike, where he creates a silhouette of himself punching harmlessly forward, then quickly rushes ahead to match its path. He can hold the punch to increase its range and power, or guard to cancel the attack to keep the enemy scared. Another tricky maneuver is Sucker Punch, a sneaky counterattack that stuns the opponent based on the power of the attack that triggered it, letting SB start a combo or simply get in a hard-hitting single attack with the wide opening. For one more especially shady trick, his Guard Special (performed by pressing the special button while shielding) is Dupe Dodge, in which he splits into three identical copies that dodge to the left, right, and in place, before the two fakes quickly fade away to reveal which one is real. The real SB's position is determined by the direction held while performing the move. If the opponent hits the fake copies, then they'll be stuck in place for a moment longer than usual, but if they hit the real Boxer, then he will take increased damage and hitstun instead. For his last special move, he keeps things simple with the classic Twist Uppercut, a low sweeping punch that scoops opponents up, followed by a flying uppercut. It can dodge attacks at the start of the move, and is a solid option for closing out a KO, but it's only average as a recovery tool.

Shadow Boxer hits fast and hits hard, and excels when he can get into an opponent's head and baits them into the wrong play that he can turn into a major punish. However, he has some weaknesses to keep him in check. He lacks any ranged attacks aside from his relatively committal projectile special, though has other ways to close the distance. He's also fairly light for a human-sized character, and while his recovery isn't terrible (especially compared to a certain other platform fighter boxer character), it's not the best either. He's no heavyweight contender, but he can take the title if he can sneak in his signature underhanded tactics.

Also yes, his gloves, shorts, and boots are just normal physical stuff that goes around his ghosty body. It's regulation.

[traditional-with-a-twist]

lxii. Beauty and Her Beast

<<Previous || first arc || second arc || third arc || fourth arc || AO3 || Next>>

How could she forget him —dangerous, grim, standing guard over her men in the caves?

The cave had been dark, the battle fierce, but Umihebi knew this man – how otherwise, when he had been the first to challenge her, to intervene between her and the redheaded prize that had proven herself a snare?

For a moment, she is back inside that cave, her empire in ruins as surely as her ship lists, smashed asunder in the water.

Again, as she has few times in her life, she feels fear. Not again, she thinks.

In the next breath, though, she has steadied herself. He is back, like a phantom from the past, but this time is different.

This time, she is holding the rope.

...

Umihebi hesitates no longer. She trusts to her instincts, even as she did on the open water — gut, fists, and a dark hiding place had all served her well over the years.

Not thinking too hard, then, about what would follow, she jerked a thumb at her grounded seamen and barked her command:

“Get him inside.”

...

The men exchange furtive grins. Too much time has passed since they’ve seen action; she had dispatched their hunting party in part to relieve them of the necessity of lying low, give them a chance to bloody their hands a bit.

They bundle the prisoner down the path, none too gently.

As they cross the first courtyard, the Crab intervenes.

...

As is his way, he stands not against but aside them, hands raised in a cartoonish gesture of shock and dismay. “Too much!” he cries. “Viper, your men have sullied my gardens with this refuse, and now here, in the inmost tranquility of my home — diseasing the air as the evening draws now, and even now my kitchens prepare our evening repast—”

Umihebi plants a hand against his chest and shoves. She would have hit harder, but a bruise would cost her in this land that exacted blood for blood.

The Crab staggers back, purpling, this time in real shock.

“You– you— in my own home—”

“Shut up,” she snaps. “That man takes his coin from the crowns of two kingdoms.”

...

He cast a disbelieving glance at the slumped and bedraggled figure, barely upright in the hands of his captors.

Umihebi lowered her voice, locking her eyes on his. “He was there the day they grounded me — he fought alongside the princes of Tanbarun and Clarines.”

The man had sense enough to understand her, she saw it flitting through his eyes. Then he drew himself up and began to wave his hands again.

“Ah! ah! Ill chance—unlucky stars that frowned on me the day I brought you into my gates — a curse, a pox on all false friends— out, out, I say—”

“You fool,” she cuts across him. “Don’t you want to know if there are more coming?”

...

He falls back, suddenly white.

Umihebi knows from that moment that her time there has come to an end. No longer is it safer for the Crab to keep her close: it is him or her now. 

The question is who will strike first.

...

She brushes past him, thoughts fixed on more immediate matters. 

Umihebi knew one way to get what she wanted, and that way was simple: pain.

Men might be led astray by love or carnal lusts; empty bellies ached for gold. Fine things tempted fine eyes, true, and on the surface she had traded in such --- but the real power lay in pain.

Simple, unqualified: hurt a man, and he would give you what you wanted.

Beauty, riches, he might find elsewhere and decide he had no further need of you. Relief from pain, though, only you could provide.

Hurt a man, and he would give you anything.

...

She selected the tools of her craft carefully. It wouldn’t do to hurt too much too soon – it was a question of finding the right threshold and driving a man there again and again without pushing him past the point where pain ceased to matter.

This was a tricky case besides because the man in question was dangerous, a trained killer to whom pain was no stranger. She had fought him hand to hand and knew he posed a threat, additionally, that was not to be taken lightly.

She knew the dark-haired man was not a warrior to trifle with. He was quick, fast enough to match her; and he was strong, powerful enough to overmatch her men.

He was also loyal – had taken no spoil for himself when set to watch over their captivity, shown not a flicker of interest when the more pathetic of her crew had wheedled and whined, proffering bribes.

...

Umihebi had him stripped to the waist and bound to a post, secured in a room not unlike her ship’s cabin: a heavy desk and luxurious chair, with a space for interrogation cleared before it. 

It lacked only windows, even the round-eyed portholes that all a ship’s luxury could just afford to offer, for now the sea snake found herself burrowing ever deeper underground. 

On the desk waited an oak chest, the lid thrown back to reveal shining coils of leather. Umihebi took her time selecting one, raising the edge of now one, then another, against the backdrop of her prisoner at his post, as if trying out jewels for him.

At last she chose a short and brutal rawhide, its ends wickedly split and belled.

Hefting the whip, Umihebi turned on that solitary figure – and paused. She came closer, whip in hand, and he did not shiver.

...

Umihebi leaned forward, eyes narrowed in the flickering lantern light, and examined the skin of his back.

Scars crisscrossed the muscle, some light and glancing, delicate as the cracks in broken glass, but others ran deep.

She laid a finger against one where something barbed had bitten into the skin, feeling the warped and ropey texture where healing had failed and made a mockery of the tissue it sought to repair.

...

“So,” said Umihebi, surveying the patchwork, “this would mean nothing to you.”

...

She was the serpent of the seas, twistier than a weed and deadly to all who crossed her path — she had been trapped and outmaneuvered once by the might of two kingdoms — but she would not be outwitted by one man.

Everyone had their pressure points, soft places in their defenses. 

She would find the key to this man’s spirit — apparently indomitable, hovering somewhere between dead and alive — and she would break him.

“Tell me who sent you here.”

...

Obi shrugged, eyes roving around the cell. “Who knows… I seem to remember that fine gentleman with the eyepatch showing me in —”

“And you want one to match?” Umihebi was on him in a flash, seizing a handful of his hair and forcing his head back. “Don’t lie to me. Tell me why you came here.”

No perspiration, no quickening of the breath – Obi looked away as if bored. 

...

‘There’s nothing to tell,’ he shrugs.

Umihebi’s lip curled. ‘Knights never work alone.’ 

‘I’m not a knight,’ he answered unhesitating, with something like a smile. 

...

“Oh, no?” she asked softly, feeling how precarious her position was, with the Crab agitated and unknown enemies lurking she knew not where. 

Umihebi leaned forward, fixing her mad eyes on Obi. He smiled grimly back.

“Then where,” she asked, “is your master?”

[feralkwe]

Character asks: for Thancred, 25 and 8. And 25 for Elidibus as well.

yay! i love doing these! you've poked the stick in the great places here! this got very long, lol, so under a cut it goes!

thancred. my pathetic wet cat. my try-hard disaster bab. my unexpected third leg of my ot3.

8. what's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

i can't think of any trend that i see that really irritates me, though part of that may be the corners of fandom i have tucked myself into. he has a lot of layers that i was too stubborn to acknowledge until well into the better part of shb, and i think sometimes fandom isn't forgiving enough after his growth arc, but honestly i'm really not too fussed because i think he skates through on hot white boy appeal in fandom at large. i think it's possible to appreciate where he started, where he wound up, and how he got there without excusing his many mistakes, but i also think it's important to talk about how he worked through it. so that's my answer: i think fandom is either too easy on him or too hard on him with no room for nuance. i keep saying i'm going to write an essay, but idk if thancred needs me to defend him. maybe someday i'll go feral and do it anyway.

25. what was your first impression of this character? how about now?

god i cannot stress enough how much i gave absolutely zero shits about him when i first met him. even given what happens with lahabrea, i wasn't really moved. he screamed 'bland white-haired jrpg protagonist' to me and i only cared because for some reason which wasn't clear to me until i read the short stories, minfilia gave a lot of shits about him, actually. and i adore her. i didn't care about his angst in hw, though he grew more personality and by the end of sb i at least went from indifferent to 'fine, i guess he's here, too'. then, like many people, i spent a good deal of shb utterly pissed off at him until it became obvious to me that he was, despite what i think a lot of people believe, trying his best while drowning in an ocean of trauma with almost no tools to handle it. by this time i'd read his short story content, and understood the context better. i was very ride or die for urianger from arr on, and yamisnuffles teased me that he 'comes with a husband' and i was determined to refuse. i couldn't tell you the exact moment, but sometime around going to the moon i suddenly gave a shit enough to select him as the scion who visits you in your suite at the baldesion annex. and, well, fuck off. i discovered i cared a lot, actually.

now i have a pathetic wet cat in my ot3. i affectionately call the eden raids 'kit's family camping trip'.

same question for elidibus. my ultimate angry murder and get murdered husband.

i have to start by saying that the ascians as villains compel me more than almost any villains in any media i've ever consumed. even accounting for recency bias, they utterly fascinate me, and i don't know if i've ever been so moved by villain motivations. the unsundered specifically strike me as so tragic that it makes me feral. even lahabrea, who i really find difficult to like. but that's retrospect after the entire arc of their part in ffxiv. after lahabrea and nabriales, elidibus came in with a different approach, and that intrigued me. of course i had no idea the larger role he'd play later, but the way he attempted to stand on a moral high ground really hit some buttons. again, i was really into urianger from the get-go, and their apparent partnership gave me a lot of OH NOES to latch onto. i think elidibus is the character that allowed me to really give emet-selch consideration beyond 'my bestie loves him' because he gave me an inclination that there was more to the ascians than had been revealed so far.

he piqued my interest, then enraged me because of ardbert, but the more i learned about his past along the way the more invested i became. the shb patches slowly killed me, and by the end of seat of sacrifice i was sobbing for him. he's just a little guy fighting for the all but forgotten souls of his people. he was pivotal in saving the world, driven to madness by it, and in the end, all alone as the last of the unsundered. yet there are characters within the narrative who lie about him and his motivations. i'm choking up a bit right now thinking about it.

suffice to say pandaemonium rewired my dna and entire brain. by the end of it i was devastated and so in love with him as a character it's almost embarrassing. he was kind, thoughtful, and gave of himself wholly to what he believed in. his connection to wol is so beautifully bookended by it, and the ways he winds himself with them throughout the entirety of the game just hits every character button i have. the very tragic wol/elidibus ship with kit wrote itself in my head from the moment you drop into elpis. i spent a lot of time wondering how he got from the careful man we meet to zodiark and beyond, which is what compelled me to write to the edge (and back again). now i kill him at least three times a week. it's fine. i'm fine. i'm very normal about the unsundered, and most normal about elidibus.

thanks for the asks! what a delight to get to talk about these guys!

[foxglovecove]

Alright currently obsessed with this for the moment…my idea for the Headless Horseman’s backstory

Name: Thomas Amsler

Nationality: German (state of Hesse-Cassel)

Age (at time of death): 21

Still working out the details but so far what I have is below the cut:

Dates might have to adjust once I do more research…

His family is poor and to help once he’s of age (17) he joins the German Army. A few years later his unit is selected to go fight in some revolution or another in the British Colonies. All members of the unit are promised a large bonus at the end of the war and they’re shipped out in 1780 (3 years before the end of the American Revolution, he’s 18).

The unit is excited to get to fight in a “real war” and their spirits are high when they arrive. That doesn’t last long and many of the unit end up dying or deserting. Not Thomas though. While he could care less about the British “cause,” he knows his family needs the money the soldiers were promised so he sticks to it.

Meanwhile during one particularly bad winter in 1782 his squad is sheltered in a farm with a family that’s supposedly loyal to the British. The family consists of mom, dad, two young boys, and three daughters (all to be named later).

I can’t not have romance in anything I do so of course Thomas and one of the daughters fall in love. Unfortunately another soldier, one of the British also sheltering there for the winter, has taken a liking to this same daughter. The daughter has been mildly interested but mostly as a flirtation, no real feelings involved unlike those she develops for Thomas.

British soldier (also to be named later) doesn’t like that Thomas has “taken his girl” (he hasn’t). There is a one-sided rivalry between the two. Thomas tries to befriend the guy but the guy is an ass.

Cut to August 1783, one of the last few battles of the war. Thomas and the daughter have secret plans to marry once it’s over and stay in the colonies regardless of who wins, though by now they’re both rooting for the colonists to win independence. The British soldier has found out about their plans and will do anything to stop them so he can marry her instead.

The battle is almost over, British soldier sees the canon and that Thomas, atop his horse, is right in its path. He doesn’t warn him and that’s when tragedy strikes. The canon ball kills Thomas and the horse.

After the battle is over Thomas’ best friend goes to the farm to tell the daughter what happened. She’s devastated but she also can’t let go. She insists on seeing Thomas’ body but by then he’s been buried so she demands he take her to his grave.

She requests she be left alone to say goodbye. She stays for a while, long after the sun has gone down. She grabs some things from the satchel she’s brought with her. They’re tools for a ritual. She knows she can’t bring him back but she can make it so that he’s not really gone. She has dabbled in witchcraft, taught by her mother, is part of a long line of witches.

She does the ritual but nothing seems to happen. She’s in tears but finally says goodbye.

Cut to a year later…

1784

She’s now being courted by the evil British guy. She doesn’t know he could’ve prevented Thomas’ death. Her father makes the match despite her and her mom’s protests. She is miserable but resigned to her fate. Her heart still belongs to Thomas but she knows she’ll be secure in the match with the British soldier.

It’s approaching the anniversary of the day Thomas died and weird things start to happen. People claim to see a shadowy figure riding through the forest.

October, two months later: The family is hosting a Harvest Dance and British soldier announces his engagement to the daughter at the party. Everyone is cheering and having a good time when a huge gust of wind and rain blows open the barn doors, blowing out all the candles. The music stops, people are trying to find matches and ways to light the candles again.

A silhouette approaches through the storm. A man riding on a horse. At first people pay no mind to it, just another neighbor who’s come to join the festivities. But, as the figure gets closer, a terrified silence falls over the group for the rider appears not to have a head. In his left hand is one of the Jack-o-lanterns that decorated the path to the barn.

Someone screams as the figure hurls the pumpkin at the British soldier, burning him and knocking him out cold.

The horse rears up and a ghostly shriek echoes as the figure turns and rides off towards the forest, disappearing into the darkness.

The daughter tries to run after but is stopped by her mother.

“What have you done, child?” says the mom, horrified.

“What I had to do,” she replies. “I couldn’t let him go.”

[frauleindermorgen]

fermat's principle

thani mastery drabble. no spoilers just spell meta :^)

Micaiah had learned to write the ancient tongue long before she could practice the common scrawl. The old priestess who raised her made Micaiah write three hundred lines a day in between gathering herbs for poultices, cleaning the cottage, and whatever other chores inevitably came up: it was the lines, written over and over, imitating that twisting and strange script that never changed.

[ヒカリヨ　ホトバシリ

ワガミチヲ　ハバミシモノヲウテ]

It must have been around the tenth time they’d had to rearrange the space where Micaiah kept her growing collection of sheaves of paper filled to the brim with those lines that the old woman brought out the tome for the first time.

Micaiah had stopped writing when her mentor had dropped the book in front of her unceremoniously where it fell to a page that had what Micaiah could just make it out were common shopping ingredients written out awkwardly in the ancient tongue.

“Well, go on then,” she’d said when Micaiah had just stared open-mouthed, frozen with quill in hand, at the intrusion, “it’s best to write what you know. And I should think you know those lines by now.”

“This is magic!” Micaiah reasoned, a little helplessly. “Your magic tome. I can’t just take it –”

“You can,” the old woman had said, the flint in her voice something Micaiah had only heard a handful of times before, “and you will if you want to continue in your endeavors. Magic is just as much a tool as anything else you’ve learned here so it’s best you treat it as such. Discipline is not what you lack, child; have courage.”

Micaiah picked up the tome carefully, and thought the warmth there a remnant of all the times her mentor must have held it, used it to call forth light in a way Micaiah could still only marvel at.

“You’ve written a lot more here than what you’ve taught me so far,” she murmured, carefully not mentioning the odd selection of ingredients toward the top of the page as she picked up her quill again and began the familiar, near meditative process.

The old woman just laughed. “The words will come to you. In our magic it is the intent that matters, and more than that: how we shape it, when you are as old as I am some shapes simply aren’t what’s needed any more.”

Micaiah nodded. Our magic, repeated in her head; it was the first time she had ever thought of Thani as something of her own.

*

She hadn’t understood then, really; had only just grasped it when she managed to conjure light a few weeks before the old woman’s passing; but in that moment as the ball of light in her hands refracted off the pitcher of water on the table before sputtering out, she thought about the fluidity of the spell.

The words might change, the intent did not.

"The light of life! Shine a ray upon my path and... strike my enemy!”

(Later a man of learning - of numbers though, not of magical formulae, would tell her that light always takes the shortest path to its destination. He understood best of all.)

When she had first met up with Sothe again Thani and her Farsight had been the only thing she had to give to Daein, and she had been terrified. How could she possibly support Sothe who needed the most precise timing, and the element of surprise to best use his skills when she was so, so showy?

She prayed to the goddess then. Funny, they’d just started to call her miraculous then but she’d never really felt a religious connection - but to help them take back their homeland, she would do anything.

Standing up against three Begnion knights on horseback Micaiah sees Sothe nod at her, and she remembers her mentor’s words: have courage. She nods back. 

The light she summons then is a pillar, breaking through armor and cleaving man from horse; it is a shining emblem that carves a path for Sothe to finish the job.

It is a miracle.

And Micaiah believes.

[dailycharacteroption]

Pop Culture Builds 13: Guts (Berserk)

It is a known truth that we are shaped by our history. Like the hammer and flame of the forge, our experiences make us who we are today.

Of course, sometimes those experiences are far too much for any human to safely bear. Some traumas are so great that you cannot endure them without something breaking. The only question then becomes whether you break entirely, or only in vital places, turning you into someone… something else.

In the case of Guts, the hero of the Berserk manga and anime, he was subject to such horrors since literal day one, born from his lynched mother’s body, raised by an abusive mercenary that he was forced to kill in self-defense, and even betrayed by his closest friend and mentor in a way so utterly violent and gruesome that I won’t recount it here. It’s safe to say that Berserk as a work of fiction is one that you pay attention to the age rating on. It is not hyperbole in the slightest.

These traumatic events, however, forged Guts into a vicious warrior with only one thing on his mind: killing the friend who betrayed him and every single demon he could find. Every last one.

And with that determination and an arsenal of weapons and tools, (greatest of which was his massive sword: Dragonslayer), he set out to do just that. However, the darkness in his heart festered, and threatened to turn him into a monster not unlike the very demons he hated so much, but he found friendship and purpose in others again, and found that his strength, and the path to a lasting peace, was in his bond with them.

Just as yesterday’s entry was an icon of a genre, today we’re looking at an icon of a trope, specifically of the stoic anime badass with an absurdly large and heavy weapon. Such characters throughout fiction often owe a lot to this man, the warrior in black with a fury behind his remaining eye threatening to go Berserk at any moment.

Guts is human, though at times he can seem to be much more than that. It’s not super important to the build though, though the extra feat will help with the build.

For this build, I wanted a class and archetype combination that rewards you for wielding a massive greatsword, but also has an edge of a dark side, lurking under the surface. To that end, I decided on a multiclass build. The first class is fighter with the two-handed fighter archetype, which turns Guts into an absolutely destructive attacker with his greatsword.

Meanwhile, the second class is at least five levels of barbarian with the fearsome defender archetype, making him resistant to pain and bolstering his intimidation factor, in addition to how the rage simulates the influence of the Black Beast side of his psyche.

With these classes comes some customization, so I recommend that your weapon training immediately be put into the sword weapon group, though you can probably spare one to take the advanced weapon training ability armed bravery, which improves the bravery ability to function with all will saves, not just those related to fear, as well as defensive weapon training to buff his defenses, focused weapon to improve the damage dice with mastery, and the like.

Meanwhile, we’ve also got about two rage powers to select as well. I recommend strength surge and powerful blow.

As for feats to give Guts, you’ve got the obvious stuff like power attack, cleave, vital strike, and all those lovely options, but don’t forget things like great fortitude, iron will, and even toughness, things which can go a long way to improve his endurance in the face of overwhelming odds.

Equipment is where things get really interesting for Guts. Firstly, the Dragonslayer sword, which is easily an adamantine greatsword to start off, with ghost touch and demon-bane at minimum for enchantments. Additionally, you can also load him up with the unique weapons of his repeated crossbow and the hidden cannon (probably based on a hand culverin or double hackbut) built into his prosthetic hand. Don’t forget that he also packs throwing knives and a small supply of alchemical explosives for emergencies.

The real kicker, however, is designing the berserker armor, a suit of armor that in the source material, subdues the sense of pain and all other emotions other than bloodlust and literally uses internal spines to hold the user’s body together and keep them in the fight. Staunching and fortification are a must, but the berserker armor is likely a unique cursed set of armor of the “can be used normally at great cost” variety, letting the raging warrior fight on past the edge of reason at the risk of killing them as they push themselves futher beyond their limits.

Of course, other builds are possibly. You could go full fighter or full barbarian if you wished, or even experiment with a variant of the amoral corruption (hey, that thing I wrote!) that plays up the struggle with the monstrous side of the character.

The haunted warrior with a massive blade is so ubiquitous that this build transcends the original source, though you certainly can never claim that it has no connection to Guts or his many imitators over the years.

That does it for today, but tomorrow we’ll see our final subject!

[brutish-impulse]

Linux gaming experiment

In the last two weeks, I decided to stop bitching about Windows 11 and see what Linux gaming has been up to. The last time I tried it was about 10 years ago and it seemed pretty hit-and-miss.

I've been trying it again on my new used MSI Bravo 15 laptop (CPU: AMD Ryzen 7 5800H; GPU: Radeon RX 5500M). The Linux OS I installed is Ubuntu 22.10.

I'm very impressed! Almost everything I tried just worked! It's also become much more user-friendly. You don't really need to mess around with Wine (the Windows compatibility tool on Linux) yourself anymore.

I'm probably still staying on Windows 10 on my desktop gaming PC, but it's nice to know there's an alternative.

More details under the cut.

Steam

I found Steam super easy. Some games already have a native Linux port. To install a Windows game, you first have to click the gear icon, go to Properties and then Compatibility. There you can select a Proton version to run the game with. (Proton is Valve's Windows compatibility tool, based on Wine.) The default is Proton Experimental which, despite the name, mostly just worked for the games I tried.

Lutris

Lutris is basically a universal game front-end that runs games for you with Wine or with an emulator. With Windows games, it installs the game for you and applies some tweaks as needed. You just need to select your game and give it the installer.exe for it. If it can be legally downloaded, Lutris can also just do that for you.

Games I tried

Guilty Gear Strive (Steam) Just works! Also no performance problems, even on the usual problem stages like L'oro Di Ilyria or Ajatar Hunting Ground. That's of course hardware-dependent, but it doesn't seem like Proton has a massive performance cost. I should note that there was a weird graphical glitch on the character select screen with Proton Experimental. It looked normal with Proton 7.0-5.

I have not tried it online because if I play on the wifi here, I'm gonna get blocked by the entire player base. Same for all other fighting games. I might try it For Science when I get home.

Guilty Gear XX Λ Core (Steam) Doesn't play the intro which is a shame because I really like the music. That's literally my only complaint.

Magic Arena (Lutris) Just worked, using the "modern" installer in Lutris. I got graphical glitches with the self-updating one.

Magic: The Gathering Online (Lutris) The only game that didn't work. It's unreasonably slow at the best of times, but this time, every game action just took forever to process. I lost by timeout playing a red aggro deck! Some people on reddit report problems like that on Windows too, so I don't know if Wine is to blame here.

Civilization 4 I installed the version from GOG using only Wine, just to see if I could still manage it myself. I needed to apply some tweaks suggested on WineHQ, but then it was fine.

I very briefly tried out some other Windows games on Steam without running into any problems: Planet Zoo, DNF Duel, Melty Blood, Resident Evil. I also tested some games with native Linux ports (Crusader Kings 2, Them's Fightin' Herds, Fantasy Strike) which all worked fine. Well, it would've been sad if they didn't, right?