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sixty-silver-wishes · 2 years ago

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everyone shut up this is ACTUALLY what fans of different composers are like

Mahlerians are PROUD TO BE ABSOLUTELY INSUFFERABLE DRAMA QUEENS, THE LIKES OF WHICH EVEN THE WAGNER CULT COULD NEVER SO MUCH AS ASPIRE TO BE. WE ARE ONE WITH THE UNYIELDING EBB AND FLOW OF THE BOUNDLESS UNIVERSE, DAMN IT ALL!

Shostakovich fans are like Mahler fans except they actually understand what sarcasm is. We also all really like the Muppets for some reason. Most of us own cats and likely have at least one mental illness.

Liszt fans are either tweenagers who love anime or salty old pianists who know a disturbing amount about music theory. These two factions are constantly at war.

Copland fans are either very, very far right or very, very far left. Either way, neither side actually listens to all of Copland's repertoire.

Tchaikovsky fans are either Russian grandmas or LGBT orchestra kids on Tiktok. Either those or the one noob who heard there were cannons once.

Wagner fans. Yes, there are the cringey neo-Nazi Wagnerians, but anti-Nazi Wagnerians are a whole new level of chaotic good. They spend their time dreaming up the most disastrous, chaotic Ring productions possible, with the sole purpose of making Richard Wagner's entire family simultaneously spin in their graves. They take "death of the author" to a whole new level and constantly run on nothing but 100% pure spite. You want a Wagnerian who would beat up Wagner in a Denny's parking lot on your side.

Prokofiev fans will unironically say "ackshually...". That's it.

Dvorak fans are homeschool kids. They're either soul-crushingly innocent or devastatingly horny.

Sousa fans are just high school band directors who try to convince themselves they like Sousa to get through the semester.

Joplin fans constantly argue over whether Joplin's music should be played twice as quickly or twice as slowly than it's actually written. Also sick of hearing about Janis.

Chopin fans are exactly like Liszt fans, except there are 20% more "uwu softboi flowercrown" edits of Chopin than Liszt floating around on Instagram and Tumblr.

Holst fans will drag you into an alleyway and beat you up with their bare hands if you so much as mention The Planets.

Bernstein fans are either horny theatre kids or communists, but it's more likely they're both at once. They are very opinionated about recordings, and express their approval of the ones they like by gyrating excessively to them. If you put a Bernstein fan, a Mahler fan, and a Shostakovich fan in one room, they will either topple a national government or have a threesome.

Ravel fans are inherently Wes Anderson fans. You can be friends with one for years without knowing a single thing about their personality.

Schoenberg fans are like Mahlerians but with worse memes.

Brahms fans are... I have never met a Brahms fan. I'm sure they exist, but I'm pretty sure my own taste in music scares them off.

Paganini fans are almost always TwoSet kids, particularly the ones who try to convince people that "classical music isn't boring because it's basically metal." If you tell them Paganini played viola, they will spontaneously combust.

Rachmaninov fans are ultimately really chill, but are often socially awkward. If you ask a Rachmaninov fan "how are you?", they will most likely respond with "you too."

Schumann fans are Mahlerians on medication.

Stravinsky fans think they're chaotic and unhinged and listen to the most obscure underground shit, but in all actuality they just decided to enter their edgy phase after a lifetime of being sheltered and forced to listen to nothing but Handel by their parents. Possibly homeschooled.

Ysaye fans are like Paganini fans, except they're depressed graduate music students with permanent calluses on their fingers.

Debussy fans go to art school, decide they don't like art school, but have been doing art school too long to turn back, so they can't get out of art school. They may be high on weed at any given moment.

Satie fans are just possessed vessels of Erik Satie. Death cannot hinder Erik Satie. Erik Satie will return to this mortal plane. Search your feelings. You are already Erik Satie.

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moorishflower · 2 years ago

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Dirty Talk (Dreamling, Explicit)

This is because of @landwriter making me realize I don't have much practice writing dirty talk. This is still pretty tame in that regard.

"I don't think you're even capable of talking dirty," is what Hob says, one fine winter evening, comfortable and a bit comfortably tipsy, sat at his regular table in the New Inn with Dream of the Endless sat across from him, and he knows by the way Dream rears back like a cat whose nose has been flicked that he's made a mistake in saying it. It's only been a few months since Dream has come back into his life, since he's gifted Hob with information and explanations and finally, in the trenches of autumn as the leaves had crumpled from the trees in red and gold splendor, the rare sight of his smile and a trembling lower lip, and a soft, My friend, but in those few months Hob's come to the realization that he would do anything, literally anything and everything, to hold Dream's friendship. To make him feel safe. To keep him here.

And maybe mocking his friend's mode of speaking isn't the right way to go about it but, again, he's just pissed enough for it to not seem like a big deal, and Dream doesn't seem upset so much as he seems offended. Mates give each other shit all the time, Hob reassures himself, and it's not like they were talking about something life-changing. Dream had only been complaining about his sibling interfering with his realm, which has apparently caused some sort of imbalance in the Dreaming, and from there had followed a great lot of metaphysical and esoteric explanations that boiled down to 'wet dreams are on the rise' (pun intended). It explains why he's had so many in the past week. It doesn't explain why so many of them have featured dark hair and skin like cloaked starlight and eyes bluer than the Aegean Sea, but that's his albatross to bear, not Dream's.

And then Dream had said something along the lines of how sex dreams had used to have poetry to them, there'd been an intimate back and forth, not just of bodies but of words, a build-up and a climax. One thing had led to another, and Hob had said what he said, and he stands by it. Still stands by it, even as Dream's eyes turn flinty and the corner of his mouth turns up into a smirk that would shame the devil.

"I am the Prince of Stories," he murmurs. His voice is a laser that cuts through the raucous din of the New Inn. There's a van's worth of footballers a few tables down, either celebrating or commiserating, it's not clear which, and the entire pub is lousy with the noise. Hob doesn't have to lean forward to hear his friend, so tuned is he to that purring baritone, but he does so anyways. It gets him closer to Dream, who also leans in, like he's about to share a secret. "Do you truly believe me incapable of crafting words titillating enough to bring one to completion?"

"I don't think you've ever said the word 'cunt' in your life," Hob says, doubling down like the idiot he is. He's never claimed to be a wise man, and especially not when he's in his cups. Besides, it's the winter hols, he's got nothing to do tomorrow, and if he ends this night with nightmares that make him piss the bed he'll concede that Dream has won this round.

"You would be incorrect."

Hob can't imagine Dream ever speaking in a way that's less than dignified. There's such power to him, all the time, such staid and solemn surety, and there's no room in that sort of denseness for telling your partner how much you'd like to suck their brains out of their prick. More's the pity, because he thinks if he could imagine it, the shape of his stranger's lips around the word 'cock' would surely be a fine feature to add to his repertoire of fantasies.

It's at this point that Hob makes the stupidest decision he's made all night.

"Prove it," he says, and takes a sip of his drink, secure in the knowledge that six centuries of swiving has rendered him immune to embarrassment, even in such a public setting. There is a long pause during which the only sound is the ambient riot of the Inn around them, the clink of glasses and the cheering -- or bemoaning? -- of the footballers, the nearly-incomprehensible drone of the sound system piping Top 40s Modern Rock into the kitchen behind the bar, Marv the bartender swearing as he uncorks a bottle of champagne for a mixer.

Then Hob feels something brush against his foot beneath the table, and the rest of the pub goes silent.

Or rather, not silent, but…muffled. Like someone's draped a great blanket over the both of them, and now it's just him and Dream, as it's always been, as it always will be, facing each other across a worn, wooden table, as much of the original wood as Hob had been able to salvage. He's worked it into the foundations, into the bartop and the tables and the floor, trying to preserve the stories he'd told for his stranger, the history, like it was ale that had soaked into the floorboards. Dream's eyes are focused on him, impossibly blue, and he feels another soft touch, this time higher up his leg. Like a foot stroking up his calf, except no game of footsie has ever left him feeling this breathless before, this yearning.

"Would you have me prove it to you with words of prose, Hob Gadling?" Dream's voice is a thing with texture. It'd be prosaic to compare it to such human stuff as velvet or fox fur, but Hob's limited in his petty human understanding, and to his ears it's plush and warm and welcoming. It's a voice to bury your face into, a voice that drips down the skin like warm honey or candlewax, with just enough bite to be interesting. "Would you have me woo you with poetry? Shall I compare thee, not to a summer's day, but to the wild bounty of the fields? More comely than all of autumn's fruits and grains, thy hair rich as the loam and the fertile earth?"

Fertile is an unfair word for him to use, Hob thinks. His brain's scattered out his ears in an attempt to try and hear better, but he doesn't have a choice, because if he wants to not hear he's going to have to get up and leave. And not listening to this just…isn't an option. Not with how Dream is looking at him, head cocked like a bird and his mouth red as garnets shaping around words, words, words.

"Shall I opine about the shape of your body? How broad and virile your chest? I have seen you at sport, Hob, and I know what you hide beneath sweaters and cardigans. I have seen the daydreams of those who lust after you. They imagine you coming in from your war games, stripping the shirt from your back and drinking the sweat from your body. They imagine what it would be like to sink to their knees and bury their mouths into your most intimate places. Worshiping you with hand and tongue. Would you have me describe these fantasies, Hob?"

Oh, please, he thinks, and wonders if it must show on his face, how dry his mouth's become, how tight his trousers are now, because Dream's little smirk grows wider. His pupils are blown so large they nearly eclipse his irises, and there's only a thin ring of startling blue outlining a sea of infinite void.

"Or would you prefer it in cruder terms?" The light pressure that's been dragging up and down his leg inches higher; it feels like fingers kneading into the soft insides of his thighs, and Hob's legs fall open to give the phantom hands better access. The Inn looks and sounds like it's moving in slow motion, but maybe that's just because he can't look away from Dream.

"Would you like me to describe how beautiful your cock is?" Dream asks, and he says it with the disaffected expression of someone asking about the weather and the deep and growling voice of a jungle cat, and Hob is fairly certain he makes a noise of his own, something undignified and stifled by how quickly he bites his lip. "How the weight of it would fit perfectly in my hand? You are made for pleasure, Hob. Thick. Heavy. Better still, to hold the shape of you in my mouth."

"Oh, fuck," Hob says. He's barely aware that he says it, but Dream's eyes light up with fiendish inner fire. There's no blue anymore. It's just black, and stars, and Hob drifting in them like a rogue comet, burning up.

"Yes. I could describe how you would fuck me. How you would turn me inside out. I would want to ride you first, to see the shape of you inside me. I would want you to fill me with your spend until I could taste it in my throat, and then, when I had found my pleasure, I would want you to bear me down into the bed. I would want you to break me in half, Hob Gadling, because I will accept no less than the most ardent lover, and if I do not finish the night with your cum leaking down my thighs and my arsehole gaping for you, I will not be satisfied."

The ghost-touch that's been drifting higher and higher along his thighs presses firmly against his groin, and Hob makes a strangled, gasping little noise, swallowed up by the thick syrupy slowness of the Inn, and comes in his pants. It's an orgasm so sharp and sweet and high that it feels like the prolonged note of a flute, and leaves his thighs quivering in the aftermath, and his breath coming in heady little rasps. He hadn't even been aware he was that keyed up, but then, he hadn't been aware of anything but Dream, and Dream's voice, and now how Dream is staring at him across the way, eyes glittering like a thousand diamonds set in velvet. Hob watches as he slowly lifts his hand from beneath the table, spreading his fingers. They're covered in cum, little beads and drips of it sliding down to the second knuckle, and Dream holds his gaze like a fist around Hob's heart as he raises his hand to his mouth and begins licking his fingers clean.

There's another noise, an uncomfortable whimper, that Hob doesn't want to think is him but probably is.

"Have I sufficiently proven myself?" Dream asks, popping his fingers free of his mouth with the most obscene, wet sound that Hob has ever heard. He imagines those fingers spearing into him and making that same sound from all the lube dripping out of his arse, and Dream's nostrils flare.

"Dunno," Hob manages to say, when he finally finds his voice. It's a thready, needy voice, but it is there. "Could use some more convincing. Don't suppose…you fancy coming upstairs to continue this conversation?"

There's a gentle stroke along the inside of his thigh, making his poor, spent cock twitch, and Dream smiles at him. "Yes. I believe there is more I could tell you, Hob Gadling."

And there is. A lot more. That night, and into the morning, and the next, and the next. Hob needs a lot of convincing.

He's grateful Dream seems up to the challenge.

#dreamling #dirty talk #dream/hob #dream of the endless #hob gadling #the sandman #my fic #fanfiction #oreo sandwich continues apace we've hit 167k now lads lasses other

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silvyavan · 4 months ago

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Yuno Grinbellior: Fall From Class Solidarity Grace

This has been a LONG time coming when it comes to Yuno's character, all the power ups and hellacious writing involved with said character. This actually had me re-reading Black Clover just to compile this callout/thesis/whatever the hell this is.

Hypothesis: Yuno's character arc and symbolic meaning got absolutely ruined in Spade arc, on the entire series premises even, to the point where he went from class ally to class traitor. From "You don't have to have massive capital or a prestigious family to have lots of mana and worth" to "Being born to privilege literally gets you everywhere in life".

And even if its not, Yuno's character arc ends up being "always at the important events, never where it matters the most".

ARC 1: THE GRAND ELF ARC AND THE SET UP TO THE CHARACTER.

One of the pivotal moments of the early series is the Magic Knights Exam and how it ends. The choice between captains is arguably the best metaphor for how Asta and Yuno's rivalry feels scuffed and represents that, in a world where mana is everything, big mana DOES get you in high places, even if you're unaware of it.

When Yuno gets his turn to see which captains would want him, all of them raise their hands and he even has the option to choose the best ranked squad, Golden Dawn, a squad that is already built upon with SEVERAL noble houses supporting it, including the Wizard King's own support, and with a repertoire of big mana bitches. Yuno, who symbolises the 4 leaf clover and all the mana and perceived pedigree that comes from it, has the chance to go into a squad that is exclusive only to nobles.

Asta, however, is the more realistic approach of someone who starts from the bottom up and has nothing, as no squads raise their hands because they want him and the only option he DOES have is the squad that's at the bottom of the barrel/with the worst reputation.

This is important because this is aligned with the next instance we'll talk about: Star Festival.

The Star Festival literally has this shit said outright: even if you take THE worst squad out of the gutter and work to the point of disability and get borderline killed trying to protect your country, the squad full of nobles who have:

1) an environment where its much easier to gain achievements (GD being located in Kiten, near the border between Diamond and often attacked, even getting Spade spies, thus making nation relevant achievements is surprisingly easy),

2) more resources and funding due to nepotism and support from rich family members ( having many noble families who can afford tutors, training, education and even connections into getting into squads, often even allowing immediate medical care in case of emergencies), and

3) implicit connections with the higher ups in the government (William being from the same squad where Julius, current wizard king was, the ENTIRE judicial court of Clover being royalists/pro noble faction, likely having relatives in GD)

will still achieve better results for less effort. Asta still has to work harder than Yuno, just for 2nd place. Black Bulls squad can literally save villages and towns, stop foreign invasions and terrorists and they still don't get as much payback as the squad made up entirely from connections, money and massive mana prowess. Is the GD still also doing the same things as the Black Bulls? Yeah, but if you look at the point distributions, Golden Dawn gets SEVERAL per missions/events, with a Spade Kingdom officer being a whole 5 stars.

It's the most obvious metaphor and it leaves a bitter taste in one's mouth, since one of the key notions that one usually gets from the rivalry between Asta and Yuno is that its a friendly rivalry that isn't inherently favored in one direction. And this, and many OTHER instances shown later in the story are testament that that's not true.

Even though Asta and Yuno both qualify for the Royal Knights position, what happened at the actual tournament, concerning Langris, feels like a statement of Yuno throwing away any attempt of principles. Yuno was THERE when Langris went off the deep end, and this guy is his vice captain. Even agrees with Klaus that something is definitely off. But he makes no attempt to actually stop him. Luck, Magna, Noelle, Charmy and Asta all jump in to try and stop him. EVEN JULIUS comes in to try and stop him, so any statement of "he's his superior, he can't go against him" can't hold ground because Julius' judgement clearly says that hes got issues, so I doubt Langris would have grounds in trying to discipline Yuno for "insubordination".

Like, maybe it's just me, but if you see your vice captain go off the deep end and try to kill a contestant from a different squad AFTER its been announced he won, you should probably stop him for both their sakes.

Yuno doesn't, NOBODY from Golden Dawn does, what does that speak on what they view as "going too far"?

And when the match between Asta's and Langris' team ends in a draw, and in a show of solidarity, all the Knights come to Asta to support him, Yuno is... not part of the crowd. People like Klaus, Hamon and Mimosa from the Golden Dawn are. So you've got people from ALL OTHER squads, who don't even know Asta, coming in to his metaphorical support. Its almost out of place how he's not even coming over there, compared to the previous volumes where he was, in fact there.

This just keeps going on until the actual Elf incident, where it feels like Tabata finally remembers "oh yeah, Yuno and Asta are kinda supposed to be friends", and Yuno is immediately worried for Asta in comparison to the previous arcs where he's kind of aloof with him. Can the aloofness be part of the respect for him? Maybe, but this is only because we keep having places where Asta and Yuno are together in a situation. Spade Arc is not like that.

ARC 2: SPADE ARC AND THE FUCK UPS

Spade Arc, has, for the major part except for 2 instances, been an arc that keeps hammering in that Yuno is continuing the saga of acting like the first 15 years of his life mean jackshit.

Yuno is now Vice Captain, has a fanclub and seems to be acting like William is some important figure to him. And all of this feels like absolute lip service.

Vice Captain because Langris stepped down and naturally they needed someone reliable but there's plenty of other, more higher ranking and experienced brigade Knights who could have taken over the responsibilities (assuming that the position isn't just some "second strongest in the building" ranking, and has actual paperwork, responsibilities, workload, etc). So Yuno, getting the position when he's been a Knight for only 2 years, feels like a weird choice and doesn't even give a show of "mana may not be the same, but effort is". They just put any big mana bitch in charge. Even some of the GD only refer to his phenomenal magic as the show of good characteristics.

Yuno and Asta, assuming they both have the same amount of missions and effort put into this, would've had the same position if it wouldn't have been for the Court Rulings and Banishment. And that's what makes Yuno being Vice Captain rather unbelievable or just straight up condescending. Even if the Court Ruling DIDNT apply, it makes no sense for the position to be given to someone who's been in the magic Knights for about 2 years.

The fan club, again, feels like a superficial way to state that "people like Yuno". Yuno is considered handsome, yes, but a fan club usually can't survive off of being handsome alone. There's no actual show of when, how or why this club formed. It sure as hell couldn't have formed in 6 months, even if they're made up of civilians as well. I know the anime has made some supplementary episode on this, but again, the "we accept you" moment feels backhanded.

We know Charlotte has a fan club, but they're all part of her squad. We're not given any example if there's civilians in her fanclub, or if there are other fanclubs dedicated to other famous magic knights.

Even if there wasn't any animosity, for these people to take like a year to accept a new recruit? This fanclub feels more like a representation of actual Yuno fans than a statement that people like Yuno.

The solidarity between him and William. My brother in Clover, where did all of this come from. I'm pretty sure Yuno would've been more pissed about the fact that William chose Yuno because of the elf soul in him. He's not, maybe he doesn't care, but there's not... a whole lot of ANYTHING. It's another case of tell and not show, but maybe because of the timeskip, it feels a bit fake.

The worst of it is, arguably, the moment where he calls out the Captains for keeping William at arms length for the Elf incident.

I want to remind yall, All Of Yall, that the Elf incident didn't just possess the Knights of Golden Dawn, but also EVERYONE ELSE IN THE MAGIC KNIGHTS. 3 (4 if you count Kaiser) WHOLE captains got possessed, SEVERAL vice captains and many other Knights who started blowing shit up all over the kingdom. Patri "killed" Julius in front of Yami, Fuegoleon got ROBBED AND LOST AN ARM due to machinations of the Midnight Sun, Nozel almost DIED in front of his family during the incident, and Jack pretty much had to go and juggle all this shit as the only other non possessed Captain besides Yami in dealing in this.

Like YEAH, no SHIT that they haven't forgiven him, this affected EVERYONE'S bodily autonomy, health and survival. William, bless this homosexual, is a war criminal and I'm pretty sure the Court Rulings, while politically sane, was the only reason his ass wasn't on trial. It's been 6 months, yeah, but the incident has made everyone's life in some way harder and the kingdom's stability worse. They have the right to be mad about this. Even Yuno admits it, he can't blame them for the animosity but at the same time, he's acting like them being mad about it is unwarranted.

Yuno, your autism is bad, I understand, but look back, literally less than 30 chapters ago, and ask yourself, would you be mad as fuck at your coworker if they almost killed everyone? Yes? Because as far as I'm concerned, the moment between Yami, William and Tiny Julius was a closed incident, one that did not have other captains involved. They did not see that shit, maybe they were briefed, but the emotional turmoil was absolutely necessary about this. We're not given the briefing of the captains when William would have had to come clean in front of them. Wish we did, considering how it would've made this moment much more cathartic.

But all this is not the worst offence to Yuno's character. The Prince revelation is.

The thing is, up until this arc, Yuno's behavior might be a bit off putting, but he's still technically a peasant who just so happens to have a lot of mana. The talent and mana was more so his and his alone. His talent made from effort, his mana who he just so happened to he born with. No fancy family, no fancy secret heritage. Just pure, raw autism fueled power.

The Prince revelation essentially smacks it all off of the table and just makes the excuse "of course Yuno is talented and full of mana, he's Foreign Royalty!". Hell, fucking NOZEL makes a "that explains everything" statement.. It's disheartening, cheap and just makes any effort that Yuno previously put into honing his skills feel fake. It is arguably the reason I pray that Asta never gets any secret family bloodline, because its souring the whole character arc and if Asta got that, Tabata might as well cancel the series because that would be a slap to the face for those who wanted Asta to be a winning underdog.

ARC 3: THE PEDESTAL OF BEING IMPORTANT BUT NOT INVOLVED.

This arc has lasted, maybe a bit over 30 chapters (332-369), and it has made not one good thing about Yuno.

Remember the statement I made previously? "Always in the middle of important events, but never when it really matters"? Yeah, no arc shows it as much as this one.

The start of this arc is Lucius attacking Asta's promotion celebration party, a long awaited party to celebrate Asta getting Senior Magic Knight, First Class. 3rd overall, and first in that ranking, essentially saying that Asta's next position would be Grand Magic Knight. In the same title, Fuegoleon says that Asta and Yuno SHOULD have been on the same ranking as Grand Magic Knights, but doesn't say why. Even so, they're not at a relatively similar position of ranking. Most Knights in this ranking are either captains or vice captain level.

This is, naturally, an important event. Orsi, Lily and the kids from the church are there! The captains are there! But not Yuno.

It's implied that Yuno got to Grand Magic Knight within the timeskip, and Asta only managed to get Senior Magic Knight after he was pardoned. But even so, Asta went and celebrated and congratulated it with Yuno. We don't see Yuno's reaction. Only the statement that Asta was always ahead of him. It sounds like ignorance of privilege at this point.

Yuno was out because he, the Golden members and Black Bull members, who have experience with devil activity, were away to investigate it. Unfortunate, but hopeful thinking makes you wonder if he had plans to congratulate Asta after the party, or come in late but still in time for it.

The reality of the matter is that Yuno showed up after the party, after Lucius went and fought Asta and missing quite literally everything. He even says that the attack Adrammelech planned was a feint. Was he not considering the idea that maybe if this was a feint, then something WORSE is going on somewhere else??? Even more so that he went and obliterated high ranking devils in an instant. Hell, with them all gathering in the min hall, it gives the impression that Yuno arrived to this meeting late enough for everyone to gather.

It's almost as if they're treating Yuno's reaction to the events are more important than, you know, actually participating in the events. Noelle and Nero had experience in devils too, but they didn't participate. They actually went and tried to help Asta when he was down! Even the Captains got out to try and help! And yet for Yuno, he's just reacting to it with the promise of vengeance, when nobody knows if vengeance will actually bring Asta back.

This isn't the only moment either. The magic Knights tournament, the golden dawn massacre, and this is a trend in Yuno being involved in the important and big battles, sure, but he's never in the moments that matter in terms of showing the actual presence of the character or weight to the plot. He's almost like a filler character who only shows up in major incidents at this point. Fucking SEKKE has more emotional weight to the plot at this point (I jest but what if).

The arc is, at this point, still ongoing and MAYBE the current state of Yunos character will change (I pray).

But, if I had to give my two cents, my idea of what would make Yuno's character more solid would be the contrast of Yuno who has all the gifts and Yuno who's only got his effort left.

That is to say, put Yuno in a situation where his efforts and abilities are put to the test by reducing/negating his powerups.

One version of this, is that Lucius somehow gets close enough to reach his soul, Elf Yuno takes the brunt to save Yuno, and now Yuno is down to only his Star Grimoire.

Another version, is that Adrammelech vs Yuno happens.

Yuno vs Adrammelech where Adrammelechs (supposed or proposed) Sun magic cancels out Star magic and his wind magic is entirely limited. A fight where Yuno can't rely on his massive magic to fight Adrammelech and can only use weapons made from spirit magic and wind as agility against him.

"Take away the talent and magic and what are you left with" type of fight. It would also add some zest to Adrammelech if he's fighting Yuno PURPOSEFULLY, to separate Asta and him from the fight with Lucius and make it an Asta vs Lucius Rematch while holding his own rematch with Yuno.

If its not, then having the Lucius vs Asta and Yuno might be more of a redemption scenario to Yuno missing the key moments of the party fight. Like how Yuno on his own is kinda struggling due to Lucius using numbers, Asta on his own needed to have hostages used against him. But if they both show up at the same time, then they can counter each others weaknesses.

Those are just some possibilities, and I have no idea how Tabata is gonna spin this, but fuck! Let's hope he doesn't fumble!

#black clover #black clover manga #yuno grinberryall #yuno black clover #asta black clover #silv writes #black clover meta

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nadianova · 2 months ago

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im sorry if anyones asked this before but! what's your process for planning out your vns? it might be too open-ended a question but playing malmaid its clear that you have a lot of skill and really have the medium nailed, so like... what does your workflow look like? how do you piece together whatever beginning idea fragments you have into something so coherent and well put together as this? what kinds of things do you prioritize? have you written about your process before?

i should tag my shit better i had to scroll forever to find these

but uhhhhhh i think. i seriously think the biggest misconception is that i somehow know what I'm doing like consistently the moments that people like in my games are moments i wsnt even thinking about and instead i put my effort into some entirely dismissed location.

i dont know what im doing but if i am to point at a skill my skill is the fact that i can in fact complete games and that gives people an opportunity to enjoy them

if you go read my first vns you'll notice they are not malmaid but after having made so many its just helped me build a repertoire of scripting abilities and knowledge on how to express myself in a visual novel format.. ultimately i am kinda writing the same thing over and over again in my vns cause that's just what i like to do

so its just trial and error really while having fun with the process

but yeah theres two other links wheere itry to go in the details but everything is so vague and shifting i might be doing something entirely different for my next game I'm already learning that i HATE planning so much as I've done for NAOMIDA and i have way more fun just winging it like i did with hopeless junction and dddeviance

my notes are actually insane like

lmao

look at these are my current notes and starting baseline for my lina side story in my game

like srly i just throw shit in be it memes or tweets or snippets of my own thoughts i wrote half asleep at 4 am and then figure out the details later and when i feel like my story is clear enough in my brain from shit like this i just start writing it hopping from scene to scene usually writing the fun scenes first and then suffering when i gotta string everything together

#asked

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ozzgin · 10 months ago

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Dear Ozzgin,

Is your new addition to the repertoire, the yandere android, a Mixture of Experts like GPT-4.5, or something else entirely? Would his performance / 'humanness' degrade if he were talking to another machine (an inhuman one, not designed to be Spacer-ly human) for a long time?

Any random lorebits on Spacers you did not include but would have had you felt less constrained?

Hah, okay, I see you've gotten into the technical aspects. I'm about to go on a ramble so I'll do a cut here for everyone else to not clog your feeds. Feel free to read if you're into this kind of stuff. :D

First, I just wanted to point this out because I've read your hashtags and comment: the CCD sensors were a bit of an asspull because it's one thing I'm more knowledgeable about, but I don't feel like it'd be a realistic choice, if I am to be nitpicky. They're expensive to produce and are mostly used for really high performance work (telescopes), but a humanoid robot wouldn't need such advanced digital imaging for daily life use. So, you know, it's arguable whether or not there are better alternatives when it comes to a mass-produced agent processing the immediate environment.

Now to your actual question: I've used the machine learning approach because this is currently our most advanced way of developing AI, but it would not be enough to explain the Android's perfect understanding of human speech. ChatGPT analyzes sentences and their meaning purely based on grammar and associations, but there's many examples of it struggling against anything more intricate than literal context. So yeah, that kind of sarcastic dialogue and implied meaning is wishful thinking of times far away sadly. I'm only wildly guessing he wouldn't struggle with today's impediments. There's a black box somewhere in there that fills the gaps and variables we don't have.

If at some point you find yourself with time to spare, I'd recommend reading the book directly. It's very interesting to see how people viewed the "future" back then, and you will detect a lot of optimism regarding computers - such as Daneel (the original Android) being a flawless human. Funnily enough, the book was published shortly before the Dartmouth Conference, so Asimov was this close to discover that language recognition is, in fact, a terribly tangled business and not as simple as they had originally expected.

I think I covered the basics when it comes to Spacers, but then again I cannot tell how easy it is to follow for someone that isn't familiar with the original work. I also didn't want to reproduce every fact, mot a mot, from Caves of Steel, especially since this is less about politics and more about romance. I'd suspect the people reading the story are not too bothered by the only briefly mentioned murder. Cause is less important when the effect is a tall robot boy with a crush on you 👀 if you feel me.

Anyways, I'm very glad you like the story, every now and then I'll insert little facts and technical details - as it usually is when you study Physics and CS but have no friends in the field - so it's definitely nice to have someone recognize the stuff! :)

#yandere android

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asgoodeasgold · 3 months ago

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Matthew Goode "has that fire behind the eyes"

Incredible praise for the performances in Freud's Last Session, particularly Matthew Goode, in this interesting podcast about the film (link below). I must listen to their podcast about The Offer because they loved Matthew as Bob.

I have extracted the most interesting bits from the transcript (that is, the MG bits 😆).

I do agree with them Matthew is at par with the great and the good and that he was snubbed by awards more than once (but I think it's more than twice!).

I love that they have picked up on his non-verbal communication. I love that quote "fire behind the eyes"!

Interesting they think his lack of visibility despite the brilliant acting is because he is in a crowded field (many good actors in his generation). I think it's a bit more complicated than that, a confluence of circumstances and choice perhaps 🤔

📷 Freud's Last session (2023) stills from Sharmill Films

Freud's Last Session, A Discussion | Cinema: A to B (August 2023)

I felt like the acting was operating at a higher level than the source material.

2.46 Amazing neither of these guys got any sort of other nominations for acting and I'm not talking about necessarily Academy Awards but I'm talking like maybe baftas or something else. I think is kind of a shame frankly this is like the second thing I've seen mat Matthew Gooden that he was completely like ignored via nomination

3:35 … the acting's tremendous.

5:11 Watching two masters work and I'm going to use that with Matthew good I've seen him now on enough stuff and how he can change and how he and he holds his own with Anthony Hopkins I did not feel it was like Anthony Hopkins was at this level and Matthew good was at this level or what like you know low that was a little bit lower or whatever like they're equal like they are it's a nice repertoire or you know reper of the two of them going back and forth and I'm just super impressed

5:40 I mean obviously we talked about the offer already I think he was amazing as Bob Evans like really just changed his entire personality to really mimic Bob Evans and here he's nothing like it he's very reserved very intelligent very academic like he really pulls that off I mean Matthew good I really feel like is one of those like that unknown I want to say like the poor man's Benedict Cumberbatch but only in the sense of the Poor Man's because he's not as well known as Benedict Cumberbatch like he's got that acting chops of Cumberbatch he should be playing roles that Cumberbatch isn't heck he's been in movies that Cumberbatch is in imitation game …he held his own there I mean so Matthew good is amazing and it as so fun to watch him

14:13 Freud just wears his emotions on his sleeve and then good is really great at having that restrained but that fire burning behind the eyes which is something that he did so well in um The Watchmen yeah so really spot-on casting

14:31 I mean yeah and he he was able good was able to like internalize a whole lot of that but yet still like you said kind of show it Through The Eyes through the facial features of Lewis's has great respect for Freud

16:44 Matthew's like holding his own and countering properly and yeah they're they're good they're good together

16:52 I'm excited to see what Matthew does what what he goes on to do to see if he starts getting some bigger roles and more important stuff I mean he does have a small body not I don't know small is the the right word for it I know he does have a body of work already but it's not as robust as Hopkins you know and it definitely hasn't the same trajectory as Hopkins did yeah and he I think he lost out roles that went to Christian Bale yeah I can see that or like Bale's a little older but I just looked up Matthew was born in 78 so I think it's kind of just a circumstance you know luck of the draw kind of thing yeah cuz he reminds me quite a bit of Bale the way he kind of moves and Carries himself and the British actor that that category is kind of crowded with like really good actors I mean if you look guys like born in the 70s like mid to late like that's just a ton of them it's super crowded so I think he's run into some of that yeah and there's I mean obviously there's only so many roles and people.

youtube

#matthew goode #matthewgoode #anthony hopkins #freud's last session #the offer #robert evans #cs lewis #Youtube

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grimgoregrimoire · 8 months ago

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I'm sick of hearing; "Writing is a refreshing way to cleanse your mind and put you onto a better path."

Babes, this path may have been paved with good intentions, but it was recently patched up with glass shards and used needles.

Also I haven't slept in three days, so here's a list of other bullshit I'm sick of bitches saying to writers.

So much for refreshing.

☆.𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊.☆

Feckin Friday 22/03/24

🐈‍⬛️ 1. "Write what you know."

Okay, yes! You shouldn't bullshit your entire book, but also, don't be confined to only what you know. Do you think I know anything about corpse reanimation? Whelp, that didn't stop me! It's good to learn something new, and it's great for your writing to expand your repertoire. Hell, who knows? You might find your new niche. Besides, research is your best friend.

🦇 2. "But my friend, cousin, neighbor, cat's best friend's sister in law's spouse wrote their book in (a ridiculous small amount of time)!"

Well, good for them! They're still going to get slingshot into the sun with the rest of us anyway. Not everybody is the same, and the only thing that ALL writers have in common is that they write things! Find what works for you and tune out the rest of the bullshit, including your own. Don't bully yourself for not writing! We are only on this earth for a very small amount of time. Take care of yourself!

🐦‍⬛ 3. "You have to have a plan/outline/entire plot done before you start writing!"

This is just *ugh* bullshit. Like yeah, sure, if you're a normal person, I guess plot it! But you know what? I've got an illiterate, hyperactive squirrel behind the control panel of my brain, and he's on his sixth line of coke. All I have to say to this is JUST WRITE it'll either all come together when you go over it later or it will be cut. Either way, it's putting words on the page, and that's great practice.

🕷 4. "Writing is your only job, and you have to treat it as such."

Gross. Look, even if someone is lucky enough to be able to write as a full-time job, I guarantee you that writing isn't all that person has does.

A lot of us are parents or keep our houses, most of us are still in school, and a majority of us have to work at least part-time to afford to write!

Writing should be treated as a job in such a way that you take pride in it, but it shouldn't be something you're forced to do.

You know how people say, "If you love what you do, you never work a day."

There ya go.

🕸 5. "Follow this plan!" / "Writing’s easy!"

I have three things to say to that.

Bite me, bite me, bite me, BITE ME.

Look, I am so glad that Stephen King smokes three blunts and eats a pile of shrooms as a part of his routine, I AM SO HAPPY THAT WORKS FOR HIM! But it's not gonna work for me and it's probably not going to work for your poor stressed out little writer friend who is six months behind on sleep and is trying to catch up with shots of espresso and tall boys of redbull. We know you mean well, and we really appreciate hearing new things to try. Don't get that twisted! But I'm sorry, there is just no gospel or quick fix to writing.

What's some other shit you're sick of hearing people say? Come on! Let's trauma bond!

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing #writblr #writer things #writers #writerscorner #writerslife #book blog #writing stuff #creative writing #writer life #feckin friday

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waffliesinyoface · 6 months ago

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gotta say I really love the prince mush fight in the postgame of ttyd. I mean, who doesn't love a boss that has literally infinite defense, complete immunity to several of your party members' entire repertoire of attacks, the ability to charge himself up and do attacks which will kill you from full unless you literally hit the HP cap, and requires you to hit the frame perfect Superguard to even hurt him in the second phase.

I mean, that's just good game design, isn't it.

Fuck off. What fucking romhack did you wander out of, you shitheel.

#paper mario #ttyd #he's immune to every status and also every bit of ''elemental'' damage so vivian and bobbery cannot do jack fuck or shit to him

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terresdebrume · 4 months ago

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Oh hey also, guess who's started on the next down on my knees installment x)

"Jenny."

Jenny's shoulders stiffen, and for a second it almost looks like she's trying to pretend like she hasn't heard Crystal, which in the one hand is kind of fair since she doesn't have a long lunch break, but on the other hand Crystal really, really needs some pointers right now.

"Jenny!" She hisses, like she needs to be quiet, "I need advice!"

"Why, Crystal?" Jenny sighs, slapping a hand on the table and levering Crystal with the most baleful glare in her repertoire—and Jenny's kind of the archetypal goth. She's really good at glaring. "Why do you keep coming to me for advice?"

"Do you see another adult in my life I could go to?" Crystal asks, wide eyed in disbelief. "I'm not asking you to be my fucking mom, I just want your opinion on something!"

"The deal was," Jenny says, visibly giving up on her sandwich and starting to fold the foil around it again, "that I don't ask questions and you don't bother me. I was very explicit when we signed the lease!"

"Okay, and how many times in the past year have I come to you for life advice?"

The answer is three times that Crystal can recall. When she first moved in and she didn't know how to get her colleagues at the supermarket to stop treating her like a baby, when she'd figured out she actually did want to go to college but wasn't sure if she should ask her parents to help her with it, and when that one random hookup decided to slip the condom off in the middle of things and she was so out of sorts she didn't remember [Planned Parenthood] was a thing until Jenny sat her in the car and drove her there. Three times in almost a year and a half really isn't that bad, honestly. Jenny must agree, too, because she heaves one last big sigh and gestures for Crystal to come into the kitchen and sit at the table.

"It's not gonna take that long, I promise," Crystal says as she sits down. "It's just. Remember how I told you I was bringing a guy home last night?"

Jenny's entire demeanor changes immediately.

"What did he do?" She demands, "Did he take your shit? Did he hurt you? Did he try to force you into something? Are you okay?"

"No, I'm okay!" Crystal promises, raising her hands as placatingly as she can manage. "I'm okay! He's nineteen too, his name is Charles, we had a lot of fun and in fact, I'm planning to ask for his number because he seems pretty cool."

Jenny frowns in a way that makes it really hard to remember she's only nine years older than Crystal and not her mom. Not that Crystal has that much experience seeing her mom react to her problems, since she doesn't go to her parents with them, but their assistants certainly seemed to make that face often. Crystal waits while Jenny's pinches the bridge of her nose and takes three big breaths, and then Jenny puts on the strained flat-mouthed expression that means 'I am thinking of different ways to kill you right now' to say:

"I fail to see what the problem is."

"Well," Crystal sacrossing her arms over her chest, "he's kind of uh. Still here."

Jenny glances up at her wall clock, which Crystal knows for a fact says it's about a quarter to one. Jenny make a considering face, then with an air of profound regret she says:

"At the risk of learning more about your sex life than I ever wanted to know, at what time did the two of you finish yesterday?"

That's also easy to know. Crystal hadn't planned on bringing anyone back yesterday because she wanted today free to take care of her hair and re-dye her tips, and whe's learned the hard way not to do that when she's exhausted. The only reason she asked Charles back, aside from the dimples and the easygoing nature and how he's the exact opposite of David so far, was because they ran into each other early and she figured coming home at midnight would give them time to have fun and still get some decent sleep. The last thing she remembers before falling alseep is watching her alarm clock tip over to one thirty in the morning.

"And you let him hang around for eleven extra hours?" Jenny exclaims, shocked.

"He's not 'hanging around'," Crystal corrects with the most sarcastic airquotes she can muster. "I know how to handle the morning after conversation! He's still asleep."

"Oh my fucking god!" says Jenny, dropping her head into her hands.

"I'm trying to be nice!" Crystal protests, but that doesn't stop Jenny from groaning for at least a minute straight.

#dead boy detectives #Crystal Palace #Jenny Green #DBDA Fanfic #s: I'm down on my knees #Matt writes #10n

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utilitycaster · 10 months ago

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could you elucidate on why coffeelocks are bad actually? my friend is a bit obsessed with them right now and i’ve never liked the specific build but i’d love to have concrete reasons that aren’t just opinions!

YES. Somewhere in my archives I think I actually did the math on like, how many short rests you have to take for this to pay any dividends, and it was a LOT, but that was during full lockdown iirc and you do not have to do this much work.

The basic gist of coffeelock for those wondering is that warlocks recharge spell slots on a short rest, and sorcerers can convert sorcery points into spell slots and vice versa. The idea is that if you take Pact of the Tome and then Aspect of the Moon as an eldritch invocation, you never have to long rest again and can just farm sorcery points/spell slots for 8 hours each night.

Now: the most obvious issue is that any reasonable DM who hears about this will look at you and say "I don't care if it's technically legal, I think it's annoying and I'm not going to let you do it." But let's assume your DM does not shut it down.

You have infinite spell slots at level 5. You are warlock 3 sorcerer 2. You know 7 spells total, which is what you'd know had you leveled to level 5 in either of these classes, except you also know 6 level 1 spells and 1 level 2 spell, max. Someone who leveled normally would have fireball, or dispel magic, or counterspell, and if they were divine soul they might even have revivify, but not you! This will eventually get slightly better at higher levels but if you're the party's main arcane caster this sucks and if you're in a party with fewer than like, five people, or perhaps a really caster heavy party, you're putting a lot of burden on other people to do the utility early on so that your dumb ass can cast magic missile 20 times a day or whatever.

I don't actually care for sorlock just generally, in the absence of coffeelock bullshit. Yes, it depends on the same main stat, but a bard or paladin combo will actually significantly broaden your repertoire. Sorcerer and Warlock have a LOT of spell overlap, and metamagic is one of those things that is like, super clutch 0.1% of the time and the rest of the time it's like oh ok (though I guess as a coffeelock you're not even really using metamagic! total waste of being a sorcerer, which is the weakest caster already! great job.). Meanwhile, two of the big strengths of warlock are 1. eldritch blast, a cantrip you can already cast infinite times without spell slots, and 2. eldritch invocations, which you have to level in warlock to get. Dipping into sorcerer means fewer invocations. Basically, all multiclassing is a trade off and I feel like this is at most the sum of its parts, certainly not more. I also think it's very tricky to play this in a way that is narratively interesting and makes sense for your character while also abiding by the specific leveling requirements of coffeelock. This isn't an issue in a one-shot but also in a one-shot you simply might not even take a long rest which renders the entire thing useless.

You have to take Pact of the Tome, which means you are spending all this time and effort and build for infinite spell slots but also you have, without any racial bonuses, literally 9 cantrips (ie, at-will spells) at level 5. And none of them are dispel magic, because that is too high for you for at least another 2 levels and that's only if you choose to continue in warlock. Also, actually, until you reach L9 in specifically divine soul sorcerer, you don't have greater restoration as discussed, so yeah your DM can just be like "oh you don't have to sleep but you do still gain exhaustion."

I lied and I did some math. So: you are a L5 coffeelock. let's say you have exhausted all your resources on day 1. You sit down for your little bullshit 8 short rests. You can never have more than two sorcery points, because the PHB page 101 says that you can't exceed the number of sorcery points shown on the table for your level. So every hour you convert one L2 spell slot (recharging) into a L1 spell slot (non-recharging), and repeat this (you can't convert both at once! because then you exceed two sorcery points!) and you end the night with 14 L1 spells and your two L2 warlock spell slots. If you are lucky, you might get like, one short rest if there is a monk or wizard or fighter in the party and they don't hate you so much that they're willing to go without ki points/second winds/arcane recovery, and they might. I guess you just stockpile low level spells indefinitely until you have to sleep finally? if you have a week of downtime do you just. walk around with hundreds of first level spell slots and not think this is the dumbest shit of all time? ooooh look at me i can cast fucking...detect magic for 24 hours straight. can't dispel any of it though!

Leveling up is a bitch too if I recall. You need to level up in sorcerer to get more points so you can eventually convert to higher level spells, and the exchange rate is not generous (like, if you're not sleeping, it's ok, but it's not in your favor as shown with the L2 to L1 conversion) and imo warlock is the superior class, and you're probably not really taking advantage of metamagic anyway so you're barely reaping the benefits of being a sorcerer except for flexible casting. Do you feel good about this? Is this fun for you? Your entire table is watching you count out your spell slots each night and hoping fervently you get audited by the IRS in real life but man you sure showed them by being able to cast chromatic orb a lot!

Also you can't use items that recharge on a long rest, only ones that recharge at dawn. Sucker.

This is all very long because I think coffeelock is an annoying build for people who think they are smart and really aren't, but the gist is that you trade away a great deal of your utility, ability to help the party, and ability to do anything except cast rather low-level spells in comparison to what everyone who made better decisions is doing. Also it's LAUGHABLY easy for the DM to fuck this over for you within the bounds of the rules even if they allowed it. Your patron gets annoyed that you're only leveling in sorcerer. Levels of exhaustion. Your patron, who communicates through dreams, straight up abandons you because you're not picking up their calls. You keep being put in positions where your 75 first level spells won't do shit and a single third level spell would. They taunt you with items that recharge on a long rest.

It's just...well, quantity over quality. Shein haul ass character build.

#answered #Anonymous #d&d mechanics #the coffeelock: for The That Guy In Lecture (derogatory) in your life

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miitgaanar · 4 months ago

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Requested by @sycamorre!! Sorry to answer this prompt with something that will make no sense at all to you lmao

Send me a number and I’ll write a micro story using the word or phrase

This is actually @duperderedere's fault. Since she basically dared me to write something like this. This is based on this ask here, and is entirely just me trying to shake this brain worm out of my skull. I don't promise any grand literature here.

And also this is an excuse to fill another micro-story prompt that has been festering in my inbox lmao

21. collapse

The blackness was eternal. All consuming. Suffocating. His lungs burned for air, but the muscles lay paralyzed within his chest. Raw gasps that brought no relief. Drowning without end, death's grasping claws forever out of reach. Ssael, he thought. A single spark of lucidity in the sprawling dark. A desperate cry into the abyss. Where is He?

--------------------- "What have you done to me?" The voice was entirely unfamiliar, a growling rasp that grated like nails upon slate—though it was his words that were carried into the dense quiet, his thoughts given life on the tongue of a slavering beast. A deep anger bloomed within Lemuel Adelier; an anger fueled by despair. "I see you've yet to retain a single thought set before you, Captain," the Black Tongue sighed. "How tragic." "The khert," Lemuel moaned, a pathetic sound even to his own ears. The chains that bound him rattled with his every movement. "You said—you said I would fall into the khert. That I could find God." "He's a fickle little whore, isn't he?" The Black Tongue did not look up from his desk, his back to Lemuel. "Perhaps the price paid wasn't quite enough to garner his interest." “You—” A drawn out rasp. The sound of whetstone upon blunted blade. “Prokul Ilganyag. Diwf. Difhut—!” “Yes, yes.” The Black Tongue did not so much as spare him a glance. Lemuel’s jaw ached with the desire to rip the man’s pale throat open with his teeth. “A colorful repertoire of damnation spills forth from your lips with little hesitation. How tiresome this dance becomes after the first few waltzes. The hazards of involving a soldier in the loftier pursuits of a scholar.” “The khert calls to me,” Lemuel said, the words a hoarse whisper, leaping forth unbidden. “I feel it pulling—tearing, ripping, clawing. God calls me to his side and you keep me here.” “Feel free to heed his call. I’d gladly relinquish you to his embrace if it would grant me an hour of peace. Do ask if he has any First Materials he can spare.” “RELEASE ME!” Lemuel roared, springing to his feet. The chains grew taut as he strained against them. They groaned in protest, though held fast, the manacles digging into pallid flesh that could no longer feel pain. How Lemuel yearned for pain. For anything that could ground him, that could distract from the gnawing hunger in his gut. “I need to find Him! He needs to answer for—for…” A sob built up within his chest, though it was a pressure for which he could find no relief. Tears sat curdled behind his eyes, and each gasping breath did little to palliate the grief and anguish that so filled his very soul. Damned, he thought. I am damned. The khert remained beyond his reach, and Ssael safely ensconced within. Laughing. Jeering. All because the little Soud had dared to seek a mightier purpose than the one his caste had dictated. Lemuel collapsed, his knees hitting the floor with a loud thud that seemed to echo through the small space. Were it not for the barest hint of a jolt through his death-ravaged body, he would not have even noticed. Damned, he thought again. The Black Tongue finally deigned to turn toward him, a sneer pulling at his pale lips. His black gaze cold and remorseless. I am damned.

#sycamorre #Lemuel Adelier #Bastion Winalils #Unsounded #unsounded spoilers #maybe????????#idk lmao #writing prompts #writings from mandalore #micro story

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strixcattus · 6 months ago

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if you wouldn’t mind, could you share the class system and magic workings of your stp dnd au?

There's a worldbuilding side to this and a game mechanics side to this. I'll start with the game mechanics, since that part's quicker.

I've made the general decision that the game the characters are playing is something that on the surface looks pretty much like D&D (same d20+ability score+skill system, for one, and pretty much all the terminology is the same), but if you poke into the mechanics of character creation it's not like D&D at all. Which is to say that classes in-game aren't quite the same as classes in D&D.

It's like college, you know? Eventually you have to declare your major (class), and you'll have to take a certain number of courses (skills) in the major (class), but that doesn't stop you from exploring courses outside of it (taking other classes' skills) as long as you can still meet the requirements for what you're trying to do.

(I imagine there are a few skills that are locked to specific classes, and others to specific patronages—a divine cleric and warlock both get to dip into a list associated with celestial magic, while their demonic counterparts have access to an assortment of more infernal abilities.)

This is how the party can have three bards who each have an entirely different relationship with magic. Contrarian is (ironically) the only one playing a normal bard, while Smitten has been almost exclusively taking non-magical bard skills, and Opportunist poured half his points into taking progressively higher ranks in a single non-bard skill.

(Most of the party is playing a single-class character. Skeptic and Broken are the primary exceptions, with neither of them having a class yet—Skeptic has a single, very expensive sorcerer skill and everything else isn't attached to a class [think extra proficiencies], while Broken has been using a level 0 character sheet the entire time, with his real sheet being held by the Narrator until the party reaches the point where all his level-locked skills become available.)

On to the worldbuilding/magic system side of things. I'll break this down by spellcasting class.

ARTIFICER: The line between artifice and wizardry is extremely blurred, and generally it's just a matter of identification, with casters on both sides being extremely uppity about their personal definitions. Generally speaking, artificers create magical effects primarily through mundane tinkering imbued with magic. They can't really take spell slots through their class, but they can create reusable magic items.

BARD: In this world, music is inherently magical, but there are some who put genuine effort into increasing the magical output of their music. Their magical repertoire is mainly limited to healing and support spells—even focused magical training can't summon fireballs by the power of music alone. There are a few bards who can manipulate other's actions or even take over their minds entirely, though...

CLERIC: Clerics can gain their magic either through actively being granted a higher status from the god they worship, or passively absorbing some of the powers of the Sleeping Gods through faith and luck. Either way, it's a pretty lax contract—their power is drawn from their god, so they'll lose them if they taper off in worship or start going against their god's morals, but all a deity ever really asks from a cleric is their faith.

DRUID: Druids draw their power from the interconnected network of living things called the Networked Wild, tapping into it momentarily to summon storms or communicate with plants. Their powers are, of course, stronger when there are a lot of living things nearby, but it's hard to cut them off from the Wild entirely. Druidic magic usually uses a one-way connection with the Wild—giving it a command to produce a spell—but some more powerful druids take the risk of opening their mind to the Wild entirely, gaining immense awareness with the danger of losing their individuality.

(Paladins and rangers exist in this system, but they don't have their own systems of magic. Paladins are essentially martial classes who tap into clerical magic, while rangers are martial classes who tap into druidic magic. They do have some class-specific skills, but most of what they can do comes from a combination of other classes.)

SORCERER: Sorcerers' magic is innate—less powerful, but more readily available and often more customizable. Some sorcerers can trace their magic back through their bloodline to a demonic, divine, or otherwise magical ancestor, but just as many gain their powers seemingly at random. Generally speaking, sorcerers have their potential from birth—it's not unheard of for someone to be struck by lightning and walk away with powers, but anything granted by an outside force with any measure of awareness will probably come with a clerical or warlock pact.

WARLOCK: Warlocks are similar to clerics, and can actually have any patron a cleric might (though they can also have patrons a cleric could never dream of). The difference lies in the terms of their agreement. While all a cleric's benefactor wishes for is some form of worship, a warlock is expected to provide some sort of service to their patron. For most, it does pay off in the benefits—innate abilities that don't drain from a finite pool of spellcasting energy.

WITCH: Witches deal in curses—similar to spells, but more permanent, sometimes more powerful, and more difficult to resist. The catch is that every curse has a condition that breaks it, usually tailored to the target—and the more powerful the curse, the easier it has to be to break. The condition generally falls into one of three categories: personal growth, giving up something of value, and a fetch quest. Witches can also control nature spirits, with each having their own specialty—local lakes or animal species, or even (if they're ambitious) a section of the Networked Wild.

WIZARD: The academics of the magical world, wizards gain their powers through study. They have the potential to be a jack-of-all trades (more so than any other single casting class) or to narrow in on a single field of magic and attain incredible magical abilities. There's some overlap with artificers, but generally wizards are considered to rely more on magical power than mechanical contraptions, and they have more ready access to spells.

(Making magical items, especially potions, is within the domain of both wizards and artificers, but the skills involved all technically belong to the Artificer class. Likewise, if an artificer wants to fill out their spellbook, they'll have to buy spells from another class's list—usually Wizard's.)

#the Narrator has made the decision not to force his players to choose a class until an unusually high level #for all the railroading he does in his plot he's a surprisingly lenient DM when it comes to character creation #you want to take HOW MANY levels of wildshape when you're not even a druid?#want to homebrew your own race after I specifically requested a party of corvid beastfolk?#want to create a demigod with exclusively skills that are level-locked due to power and just hold off on it for a while?#sure why not; can't do much more damage than the guy who insists on leaving all the monsters alive #so they can 'come back and give him a better fight'#stp d&d au #worldbuilding #cabins and corvids au

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object-headed-characters-yes · 7 months ago

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Day 7- Doubt

I find RGB’s interactions with the previous heroes fascinating, and I like to wonder what those interactions would be like when RGB is alone/between heroes. So oops, this turned into a longer one-shot with RGB and Click.

Additional note: I still think about that panel of RGB seeing Click in the Market and Click pointing and making the shooting motion at RGB. In this one-shot, RGB isn't aware of where Click's eyes actually are. Some tags/etc. since this is longer:

Angst, torment/pain via shooting, violence, RGB/suffering, taunting, RBG running his mouth doesn’t do him any favors with Click, musing over the concept of pain both physical and mental for RGB, reminding one of one’s failures with a similar departure, some hurt/comfort (a lil RGB/Madras if you squint), despair/resignation/acceptance when the same thing happens again.

RGB didn’t notice the Doubts gathering nearby as the futility of what he was attempting to accomplish began to feel like a huge waste of effort. RGB should just give up, instead of fighting, and finally accept what was fast becoming inevitable.

And yet…

RGB can’t stop now.

Despite the hurt that came from becoming attached to his previous heroes who had failed, RGB just couldn’t stop now. Not after all he’d done to find the loophole that he was currently taking advantage of. And he knew better, now, after a few heroes, to be a little more careful so he didn’t end up in another situation where he had to abandon his hero to their doom.

Once was enough.

Once was enough to make the guilt linger, even if RGB told himself that it was for the best.

Click had not been what RGB thought he would be as a hero.

RGB’s walk had slowed as his thoughts briefly dwelt on the failed (and abandoned) hero. RGB could only hope that the next hero (after Click, and the last few) would surely be able to go on longer and succeed compared to those who came before? RGB needed to shake off the malaise that was plaguing him before he could not even accomplish going to find a hero again and-

Ah.

That explained his current train of thought.

RGB had come across the field of Doubts.

What terrible luck.

RGB was soon surrounded by many of the creatures, no longer squabbling amongst themselves. The telly-headed monster staggered along, occasionally tearing away Doubts that began to cling to him.

Almost out of the field.

Just a little further.

Click-click-click.

That sound…

Click-click-click.

Now, of all times?

Click-click-click.

RGB unwillingly stopped in place at the sound, wondering if he’d had a shadow the entire time he'd been going back to the beginning.

“Click.” RGB greeted, not turning around just yet as he raised his hands up and away from his pockets. No matter how much he wanted to go for something that might give him time to get away from Click, and any possible hurt that came with his appearance. Unless, of course, Click had changed his view of RGB, yet that was-

BANG!

Pain flared through RGB’s left leg, making him stagger then collapse to his right knee, swiftly using the cane in his hand to bat away a few Doubts that had wiggled closer as his other hand braced in the grass.

A bullet clattered nearby.

“Not even a greeting, Click?” RGB questioned, managing to speak without obvious agony; like he was just having a chat with an old friend. An old friend understandably upset with RGB’s previous action. “I thought a little repertoire might happen before you shot me, though as you see, it went right through me.”

The sound of the weapon could be heard being repositioned.

RGB knew what had Click after him.

Click knew as well RGB that the television-headed monster had abandoned him to a doomed fate. And now Click was within range of his guide turned enemy, again seeking to remove that which caused his inevitable demise in this world.

“You know, I thought we had quite a good chat before coming to this world." RGB had yet to reach for his suit coat, and every passing second he stood there meant being overwhelmed by the Doubts, or shot. "Surely, we could have that civil a conversation again? I am on a bit of a schedule here; I’m sure you understand that.”

A few clicks, a gnashing of unseen teeth, despite the fact RGB was fairly certain Click had none.

Not anymore.

“Even if I know you’re not precisely, ah, pleased with my previous decisions and actions, I’m sure you know it’s a, well, unfortunate 'duty' of mine to continue to find new heroes, correct?”

Silence but for the ever-sounding click-click-click that accompanied the former hero turned a tin solider in this place.

“My dear fellow, I don’t suppose we could take this conversation you clearly insist upon having to a less hostile environment?" RGB wheedled, doing his best to figure out a way to defuse the situation, so to speak. "I do think we may have had some sort of misunderstanding when first we met, and I can’t help but think that this has carried over after your…change in appearance, and the incidents that followed thereafter.”

“As before, you speak too much.” A voice of three in one spoke aloud at last. Another click, as metal creaked and moved, changing shape. “And I think this field is fitting, for someone like you.”

“How do you figure that?” RGB batted away another Doubt with his cane, his other hand’s fingers digging into the ground with unease.

The muzzle of the rifle lightly pressed between where RGB’s shoulder blades would be.

“Your doubts about me…your doubts about the ability of this place to be saved; despite trying again and again…you abandoned me. Left me to die, and become what I am now, after you killed the 'me' before that." Click harshly grated through the three-toned voice. “You’ve doubted all previous heroes brought to this cursed place, haven’t you? Doubted their skill to keep up with you in this madness. For your heroes to understand the rules without being told, unless pressed with a question for an answer." Click’s voice became rough and laced with fury underlying pain. “Doubted their ability to do what you were unable to accomplish, leading us all to be pawns in your attempt to make things right that you yourself couldn’t?”

“I don’t know what you mean by that.” RGB couldn’t quite hold his unease over being called out like that, but he figured some of the previous heroes, and now Click, had figured him out, and saw through his facade. Though RGB's thoughts were dashed when the muzzle of the rifle lowered a tad.

BANG!

A bullet whizzed through where his right thigh would be.

The cane fell with a muted thump to the grassy ground as RGB’s hand joined his other in the grass. He held himself up, arms trembling as the agony of both the bullet wounds traveled through him unseen, the second stringing pain traveling through his thigh. RGB’s other leg was as about to shift to balance on his hands and knees to not topple over, when Click moved.

Click-click-click.

RGB wordlessly winced when Click stepped on his wounded left leg, grinding the boot now a rifle butt down as the rifle made from Click's own arm moved with the lifting of said arm. RGB briefly found his voice. “I don’t suppose we could-"

BANG!

Twice more the rifle went off, one shot going through RGB’s left shoulder blade, while the second shot flashed through the upper arm of his right.

RGB’s voice became wrought with static as he gracelessly collapsed to the grass, just barely turning his television head to the side to avoid having the glass crack upon impact. Seeing as it was grass, there was likely no need to worry, but RGB wasn't going to tempt fate further that dat.

The 'boot' moved off of RGB’s leg.

Click-click-click.

BANG!

Another shot, this time through RGB’s lower back. Then, the rifle roughly pressed to the back of his telly-head.

“If you want target, might I suggest the rather abundant population of Doubts that are surrounding us?” RGB wheezed out through the speaker, color dripping excessively down from his screen, several emotions overwhelming him all at once. RGB tensed when he felt the barrel of the rifle shift, almost thoughtfully, to one of RGB's vents. “Taking on those Doubts might be able to help with some of that built up anger of yours.” The rifle moved again to roughly press back against the back of RGB’s head. “Or you could do this, I suppose.”

“Like I said before-“ Clicking and metal sound overlapped before a hand reached around RGB's shoulder to seize the volume control on the front of his television screen. “You speak too much, but for what I have in mind-“ Click cranked up the volume to its max setting. “I want you to be heard. To scream.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. As much pain as you could cause me and the 'hurt' that it brings won't make me ‘scream.’" RGB commented, his voice now very loud. Conveniently, the Doubts didn’t like it and had moved a little way away from him and Click. “More of a static feedback, I suppose? I’m not really one for screaming and all that. I can certainly talk more if you’re keen on that conversation and are done with shooting me.” RGB’s arms ache as he braced himself when Click irritably used both his hand and the one currently used as a weapon to roughly flip RGB over onto his back. Staring up at Click, the blank-faced soldier appeared cold and unwavering. This gave RGB pause. What was he planning and-

“I want you to feel helpless when they come for you.” Click’s otherwise stationary head tilted to the side, the gold buttons on his solid jacket shimmering. It was if they, too, were eyes that were giving RGB their whole attention as Click's arm turned weapon lowered from the center of his screen to his chest, just below the bow tie.

“Who do you-“

BANG!

A bigger, more painful flare of agony tore through RGB’s chest, dragging out what he thought couldn’t be brought out so easily. A scream of agony, despite knowing no real harm was done to something not truly there, or what was already gone.

Click-click-click.

The muzzle of the rifle moved to the side as Click awkwardly knelt alongside RGB, body shifting metal in order to do so as Click gripped a handful of fabric to yank RGB partly upright off the grass. For whatever reason, Click was leaning over past his television-head, Click's chest level with RGB’s television screen versus the toy soldier’s head. Maybe he couldn’t bend that far with what his body now was?

RGB’s screen was fuzzing and static, the technicolor smile slipping to a thin line of pure agony. But through this, and the jostling via Click’s hand, RGB could have sworn the decorative detail across Click’s chest formed into three sharp smiles, the buttons gleaming on either side of these. It gave off the impression of three faces gleefully enjoying the clear pain RGB was experiencing despite the lack of blood from any of the bullet holes in RGB’s suit coat and pants legs.

“The Fears.” Click responded to RGB's earlier question as he jammed the rifle point-blank against RGB’s chest, just to the side of the hole the previous bullet had made. Click leaned in close, those buttons are like eyes, piercing RGB, the imagined smiles twisting up in sadistic pleasure. “Scream, and suffer, like you made me suffer when you abandoned me to my fate in this place of make believe.”

BANG!

White-hot agony tore through RGB this time, barely noticing that he’d been let go of as the back of his telly-head roughly hit the ground.

Some other gunshots went off, as well as a loud blast, but neither of these were aimed at RGB.

The Doubts?

RGB felt a hint of doubt but it wasn’t as strong as before.

“Good luck getting to your next victim.” Click called out from a further distance. “The Fears have come. They sense yours rising.”

Ricocheting bullets scattered around RGB, dispersing of the remainder of the nearest doubts.

RGB could feel the fear creeping in, drawing in the Fears, the jagged lines of their bodies drawing nearer through the grass.

“Should you survive this, know I will always be around to find you again.”

The click-click-click-ing grew quiet, until it could no longer be heard.

Click knew better than to test a large crowd of Fears, or even a Grief, should it show up, knowing well he didn't want to be caught and overwhelmed like when he'd been a hero, and been abandoned by the one who'd asked him if he wanted to be hero.

RGB’s limbs trembled, but he couldn’t find the strength to get up. He was frozen by pain and the growing fear.

Click-click-click.

Wait.

Why was he coming back?

Why did Click-

SPLASH!

RGB let out a garbled static gasp, fear skyrocketing as he felt the water get into his vents and inside his television head and-

STAB!

The Fear!

RGB weakly reached up to grapple at the head of the Fear but his hands lost their strength, thudding limply to the ground. Other Fears closed in, while the Click-click-click of Click’s retreat could be heard, the tin soldier agreeing to be a hero and being abandoned by RGB, now abandoning RGB had him, and however many other heroes suffered a similar fate.

Another Fear stabbed into RGB’s body; as he lost his vision of the world as his screen went out.

A long blank of nothingness hung around RGB until, with an unnecessary gasping breath, RGB woke up in a different area. An area close to where he went through a door to go recruit a new hero for a doomed narrative.

How…had he gotten here?

Hadn’t RGB been overwhelmed by the fears, after being shot many times by Click, and then splashed water as an effort to ensure RGB might be taken out?

RGB placed the back of his hand across the top of his screen to stare up at the sky overhead.

Well, that had been quite an awful experience, even if Click did have justification to use him as target practice.

The aches remain, as did the bullet holes in his clothing. RGB would have to have the amour repaired or replaced. But that would take more time to go back to the Market and only give Click a chance to find him again, to try and take his revenge for what RGB had done to him.

Standing stiffly, RGB brushed off his suit and pants as best he could, adjusted his boater hat, and picked up his cane that had miraculously appeared with him, instead of being left behind in the field.

A question of how would have to be left for another time.

As much as RGB didn’t think it would be best to go look for a hero while sporting bullet holes in his person, RGB couldn’t dally any longer. Surely there would be at least one person interested in being a hero who wouldn’t be put off by the sight?

As it turned out, RGB had found someone to be the hero of the story. He brought them through a brief gauntlet before the two managed to get a little breather in the House of Paint.

The hero did, that is.

While the hero slept, RGB was subjected to Madras’ concern as she took her price of two pints in return for replacing all the items RGB had lost when Click shot him in the chest, shattering the glass vials hidden beneath.

RGB, once the pints were taken and the vials were stored, went upstairs and sat down, Madras joining him briefly to lean against his back, arms around his shoulders.

They remained there in silence until RGB broke it.

“Click shot me. Multiple times., at that.”

Madras’ arms merely tightened around him, encouraging RGB to continue.

“I don’t think he is interested in talking to me.”

“Would you, in his position?” Madras asked.

“After what happened?” RGB was quiet. His head hung a little. “No.”

“I’ve told you before to not get attached.”

“I know.” RGB’s voice was quiet, despite not turning the volume of the television down. Right, when had that happened? Wasn't it at high volume before?

“You can’t help it.” Madras said.

It wasn’t a question.

“Does that make me a fool?”

“It makes you vulnerable.” Madras poked a finger through a hole in RGB’s suit-coat. “It makes you hesitate.”

RGB said nothing as he turned his head in the direction of the door.

“Don’t get attached.”

“It’s like you said.” RGB’s right hand reached up to rest over one of Madras’ hands. “I can’t help it.”

Madras’ eye settled on a mirror in the corner of the room and saw the self-deprecating multi-colored smile stretching across the lower third of RGB’s screen as his other hand gripped the cane tight.

No more words were spoken.

RGB wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep, but when he woke, he led his newest hero from the House of Paint.

Not a day later, RGB lost them.

Click may have a point; whether or not RGB intended to, whether he left his hero behind intentionally, or did his best to keep his hero safe and well, something inevitably went wrong. This led to them being trapped within this world of make believe, resentful or hateful toward RGB, unable to go home even after the hero was no longer the hero of the story.

One of these times had to be different.

It had to be.

RGB couldn't keep doing this when he was unable to fully detach himself from the situation and he inevitably, in one way or another, became attached to the heroes he brought here.

#the property of hate #the property of may #tpoh fanfic one-shot #tpoh rgb #tpoh click #it seems like someone may have talked click’s ear off so now click has no patience for rgb’s gabbing after what happened #wow this got long #I present fanfic in place of fanart

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