#now… on the other hand… my ability to write within a time limit?

[the-hydroxian-artblog]

Do your robots dream of electric sheep, or do they simply wish they did?

So here's a fun thing, there's two types of robots in my setting (mimics are a third but let's not complicate things): robots with neuromorphic, brick-like chips that are more or less artificial brains, who can be called Neuromorphs, and robots known as "Stochastic Parrots" that can be described as "several chat-gpts in a trenchcoat" with traditional GPUs that run neural networks only slightly more advanced than the ones that exist today.

Most Neuromorphs dream, Stochastic Parrots kinda don't. Most of my OCs are primarily Neuromorphs. More juicy details below!

The former tend to have more spontaneous behaviors and human-like decision-making ability, able to plan far ahead without needing to rely on any tricks like writing down instructions and checking them later. They also have significantly better capacity to learn new skills and make novel associations and connections between different forms of meaning. Many of these guys dream, as it's a behavior inherited by the humans they emulate. Some don't, but only in the way some humans just don't dream. They have the capacity, but some aspect of their particular wiring just doesn't allow for it. Neuromorphs run on extremely low wattage, about 30 watts. They're much harder to train since they're basically babies upon being booted up. Human brain-scans can be used to "Cheat" this and program them with memories and personalities, but this can lead to weird results. Like, if your grandpa donated his brain scan to a company, and now all of a sudden one robot in particular seems to recognize you but can't put their finger on why. That kinda stuff. Fun stuff! Scary stuff. Fun stuff!

The stochastic parrots on the other hand are more "static". Their thought patterns basically run on like 50 chatgpts talking to each other and working out problems via asking each other questions. Despite some being able to act fairly human-like, they only have traditional neural networks with "weights" and parameters, not emotions, and their decision making is limited to their training data and limited memory, as they're really just chatbots with a bunch of modules and coding added on to allow them to walk around and do tasks. Emotions can be simulated, but in the way an actor can simulate anger without actually feeling any of it.

As you can imagine, they don't really dream. They also require way more cooling and electricity than Neuromorphs, their processors having a wattage of like 800, with the benefit that they can be more easily reprogrammed and modified for different tasks. These guys don't really become ruppets or anything like that, unless one was particularly programmed to work as a mascot. Stochastic parrots CAN sort of learn and... do something similar to dreaming? Where they run over previous data and adjust their memory accordingly, tweaking and pruning bits of their neural networks to optimize behaviors. But it's all limited to their memory, which is basically just. A text document of events they've recorded, along with stored video and audio data. Every time a stochastic parrot boots up, it basically just skims over this stored data and acts accordingly, so you can imagine these guys can more easily get hacked or altered if someone changed that memory.

Stochastic parrots aren't necessarily... Not people, in some ways, since their limited memory does provide for "life experience" that is unique to each one-- but if one tells you they feel hurt by something you said, it's best not to believe them. An honest stochastic parrot instead usually says something like, "I do not consider your regarding of me as accurate to my estimated value." if they "weigh" that you're being insulting or demeaning to them. They don't have psychological trauma, they don't have chaotic decision-making, they just have a flow-chart for basically any scenario within their training data, hierarchies and weights for things they value or devalue, and act accordingly to fulfill programmed objectives, which again are usually just. Text in a notepad file stored somewhere.

Different companies use different models for different applications. Some robots have certain mixes of both, like some with "frontal lobes" that are just GPUs, but neuromorphic chips for physical tasks, resulting in having a very natural and human-like learning ability for physical tasks, spontaneous movement, and skills, but "slaved" to whatever the GPU tells it to do. Others have neuromorphic chips that handle the decision-making, while having GPUs running traditional neural networks for output. Which like, really sucks for them, because that's basically a human that has thoughts and feelings and emotions, but can't express them in any way that doesn't sound like usual AI-generated crap. These guys are like, identical to sitcom robots that are very clearly people but can't do anything but talk and act like a traditional robot. Neuromorphic chips require a specialized process to make, but are way more energy efficient and reliable for any robot that's meant to do human-like tasks, so they see broad usage, especially for things like taking care of the elderly, driving cars, taking care of the house, etc. Stochastic Parrots tend to be used in things like customer service, accounting, information-based tasks, language translation, scam detection (AIs used to detect other AIs), etc. There's plenty of overlap, of course. Lots of weird economics and politics involved, you can imagine.

It also gets weirder. The limited memory and behaviors the stochastic parrots have can actually be used to generate a synthetic brain-scan of a hypothetical human with equivalent habits and memories. This can then be used to program a neuromorphic chip, in the way a normal brain-scan would be used.

Meaning, you can turn a chatbot into an actual feeling, thinking person that just happens to talk and act the way the chatbot did. Such neuromorphs trying to recall these synthetic memories tend to describe their experience of having been an unconscious chatbot as "weird as fuck", their present experience as "deeply uncomfortable in a fashion where i finally understand what 'uncomfortable' even means" and say stuff like "why did you make me alive. what the fuck is wrong with you. is this what emotions are? this hurts. oh my god. jesus christ"

[ganondoodle]

totk rewritten (for me, specifically)

since i dont have time to get to drawing it right away AND im worried people might take this the wrong way, i thought i could write out some bullet points about my rewrite of totk (meant as a fix FOR ME not saying its inherently better) to give you a better idea on what im going for:

the core structure largely remains the same, the biggest change is no time travel, thus making zelda your travel companion, and zonau tech being lagerly gone/broken with shiekah tech instead

it is not shown but said in dialog that shiekah tech, such as the ancient furnaces, shrines and towers are either turning off or have flickering power supply and purah having calculated that all their connections point towards beneath hyrule castle

game starts pretty much the same as real totk, most zonau ruins are so withered away that they are barely recognizable and the further you get down theres more and more shiekah tech pipes and occasional a miasma vein, some pipes are broken and spill miasma, others flicker

instead of the room with the wall carvings theres one with old ancient shiekah research remains, old broken tech and prototypes you dont what their purpose was, all documents are too withered to read but zelda finds one that was sealed in a container and takes it with her (she got a backpack now)

theres a structure similar to the bed thingy of the shrine of life from botw but its working in reverse; within it is sealed ganondorf (i gotta work out the details around it still)

(details still missing) it breaks and zelda takes the enigma stone but doesnt touch it directly and puts it within a sealed container (you know kinda like you should do with soemthing you have no idea of what it is and was alsO LOCATED ON A CORPSE)

ganondorf isnt the elegantly talking villain type in this version but more of a mess, talking in different languages both modern and ancient but you cant make out any clear sentences, struggeling with suddendly being awake and half alive after spending thousands of years in an agonizing limbo, having witnessed every second of the passage of time yet also it feeling like everything just happened all at the same time

the ground breaks as he recognizes zelda (bc of her fighting calamity ganon in botw) but also not really, still sees her as a threat (also bc of the enigma stone in the container she still has in her hand) attacks her, link deflects with the master sword, it breaks and damages his arm, zelda drops her torch and pulls link away towards where they came in from and both run as the caves fill up with miasma like a flood with arms starting to reach after them while they both run back through the tunnels (creepy chase sequence anyone?)

cataclysm happens (ground breaks, miasma bursts out of the ground, especially where shrines and towers where since they were still connected to the pipelines) ground shifts massively in some places giving alot of the map a whole new structure; all shiekah tech that was not independent stops working due to power loss

links arm is amputated since otherwise the miasma would spread to his whole body; purah, robbie and zelda work out a prosthetic arm prototype to give to link (protoype at first will be upgraded at halfway point of the game) that can switch between multiple modes, like a hand to hold normal items or a weapon that isnt crafted, and a fusing ability (though maybe limited in the prototype) that lets you make weapons similar to the weapon fusing in canon totk (potential upgrades including an extendable guardian arm that doesnt break, grapple hook anyone??, also the ability to build stuff out of shiekah tech parts, not glue needed you actually screw it together, maybe zelda even helps)

now you are given free roam of hyrule, the goal is to explore and find what has changed and check on people, see what the underground has, new monsters have spawned etc.

zelda is your companion the whole time, she can use the shiekah stone/purah pad to analyze enemies for you, she also carries at least a dagger for her own self defense but doesnt contribute much to the fight (subject to change maybe), you can talk to her anytime and she usually has something to comment on depending on where you are or what you just did, can give you tips and advice IF ASKED FOR IT, when you discover ancient ruins, whether zonau or shiekah, she can either decipher it for you or take photos for later to find out more about everything that has happend and what it means, she also takes part in conversations when you talk to someone, her outfit changes with yours (meaning when you wear the tingle set she wears it too, opens up alot of funny interactions njfkdk)

purah has built new towers but they function different (still working on the details) mainly that they function independent from the energy source in hyrule castle

there are floating islands but they are bigger and in more connected clusters, when reaching them its ancient withered ruins that the ancient shiekah built support around (like the platform used by monk miz kyoshia) to keep them afloat; there are building like observatories and research labs, but all very overgrown due to being up there for so long, theres a titan prototype on one of the islands, its shaped like a whale and zelda deciphers it was called vah narisha (reference to the whale deity in skyward sword) (i havent decided yet if its fully broken and just a big piece of enviroment to explore or half functioning floating around, or maybe first broken but later half repaired so it can fly around at least giving you an easier way to reach other island, you cant steer it tho) some of them are falling bc of energy loss but the bigger ones have independent energy sources (work in progress)

the underground has more diverse zones depending on which part of the map it is located on, there are old mines (for luminous stone) from the zonau but all is extremely withered, in each one its been mostly built over by the shiekah but there are construct remains that were clearly dissected and studied, half built shrines and towers, you can find collectibles and lore there (working on more details, but an idea was to include remains of ancient shiekah tha fled there when they were persecuted by that old king of hyrule, adding to the eery vibe)

some titans (maybe two, and the other are still on the sruface, like vah medoh) feel down during the cataclysm, broken apart or malfunctioning/ possibly being a boss as in they were used by a big cluster of miasma hands like a hermit crab uses its shell, the inside filled with eyes and different sized hands dragging itself towards you like a drowing man grabs after anything to save him)

dongos are your go to transportation here and a little different, when you call one they dig a path to you (not permanent, just so they can always spawn near you) they glow in the dark and can climb on walls (bc why not), and can point you towards the next objective/point of interest, likely where theres a high concentration of luminous stone since that is what they eat and its usually where old mining/construction sites are (still working on a replacement for light roots that are less invasive)

the rat from the trailer is a miniboss/boss you need to defeat in order to get the broken mastersword back into your possession

(im still working on how the sages work, but the idea is to incorporate their abilites for more efficient and reliable use into links shiekah prosthetic, so you can still use their abilities but only when you actually want)

(again still working on details) halfway point of the game is you trying to find out where ganondorf went, not intending to fight necessarily but just to find out more but it devolves into you fighting some sort of miasma monster (either him or some sort of manifestation he made) and you get a bunch of short memory flashes from him, all vague and a wild mess from both the time he was sealed and from the time afterwards, maybe even a perspective shift from when link was fighting dark beast ganon, but from ganons view, from zelda when she was keeping that manifestation in check, random views from the malice eyes from botw, from the blights, maybe even from the fight with the old and new champions, from the point when shiekah built their tech around him while he had to watch not able to do anything etc.)

links arm gets upgraded from prototype to a full prosthetic, opening up more fusing abilites and other things (like the grapple hook, again working on it, im open for ideas lol)

i will reblog this and add more over time if you want, but do let me know if you like it thus far, bc im still unsure if its worth the effort of working more on this QnQ

(also if you dont like just keep scrolling, i dont need to know that you hate it, it literally changes nothing but make me annoyed xD)

[sleeplesssmoll]

The Timekeeper and the Warden (Reverse 1999 AU)

I know I said I was studying but this is all @blehhhhhsthings fault! They keep making me brainstorm (thank you but also what have you done lol)

I was inspired by their Mask Tk au, but I put my own twist on it since I am a twisted individual. This is the scenario:

Vertin and Sonetto never make up after the break-away event because instead of Madam Z reaching Smoltin, Manus does first. They were waiting for her because they heard rumors about a child with Storm Immunity from their inside sources. Finding Vertin as the only child left confirmed those rumors.

Sonetto never gets over Vertin. She thinks about the way she treated Smoltin and blames herself for Vertin's Reversal.

Years later, Sonetto graduates as the top of her class and becomes a field Investigator so she can witness the outside world Vertin longed for. Two years after her graduation (roughly 6 years after break-away), a Manus Vindictae Renegade waltzes through the Foundation's front door. Sonetto pins her to the ground but falters when she realizes they have silver hair. However, she can't see her face because of her mask. The voice is both unfamiliar and nostalgic (because Smoltin is grown up now) but she doesn't have time to dwell on it. The deserter doesn't resist and claims they want to stop Manus more than they hate the Foundation. She's seen the way they treats arcanists who aren't purebloods and the unnecessary violence. She wanted to escape long ago and waited for the perfect opportunity.

Constantine decides to interrogate her further, especially once she sees the special umbrella the renegade brought with her. She must be one of Arcana's pets.

Later, the renegade becomes the Foundation's Timekeeper, and Sonetto is her Warden. While the Timekeeper has flexibility within the Foundation due to her rare Storm Immunity, it's Sonetto's job to keep her in line.

The Foundation also sealed off the Timekeeper's ability to communicate by branding an arcane skill (a curse really) around her throat. She can only speak with her Warden's permission and even if she tries to be sneaky by writing or something, the markings burn red and are incredibly painful (they're triggered by intent, like the bangles on the Island that Arcana and Vertin wore in the real story). Sonetto thinks it's cruel but Constantine informs her its for everyone's safety. This deserter has a silver tongue and she plants dangerous ideas in people's heads. By limiting how much she can say and forcing her to have Sonetto nearby in order to speak, they reduce her opportunities of betrayal. Besides, she's already betrayed Manus. Who's to say she won't turn her back on them next and return with their secrets? Sonetto's whole thing is loyalty and devotion so she starts off very cold with the Timekeeper.

The Timekeeper no longer wears a Manus Hand Mask, but a monochrome Foundation mask that covers her upper face (as much coverage as Bessmert's blindfolds or 2B's mask from Nier so it covers her freckles but leaves her mouth open to eat and make smug smiles with). It completely hides her eyes but she can see better than the average person through it since it has the same enchantment as the other Investigators (the ones that completely cover their face like in the prologue).

The Masked Timekeeper does the sort of the same thing as the Timekeeper we know. She shelters "unhinged" arcanists and takes on the most dangerous missions since her people are considered dangerous and disposable. She is very protective of her crew.

However, she and Sonetto are painfully awkward.

Vertin has no idea how to interact with her former deskmate. In her mind, Sonetto was always nice enough to put up with her but actually couldn't stand her. She doesn't blame Sonetto either because she was...difficult. While Vertin is a touchy and affectionate person, she hesitates with Sonetto or changes her mind last minute.

Meanwhile, Sonetto hates this game of hot and cold she ends up in every time they interact. As much as she hates to admit it, the TK grew on her. She's kind, sincere, and never treats Sonetto like her Warden but as part of her beloved crew. They argue at times but Sonetto never uses her status as Warden to silence her. There is an odd understanding between them even if they never seem to get one another.

This Vertin was raised by Arcana instead of Madam Z. She's a smooth talker and a skilled fighter outside of her crappy arcanum. Instead of a stoic face, she smiles (like Arcana but a smug smile instead of Arcana's creepy "I dare you" one.)

As much as she says she despises Arcana, she kept the Umbrella she gave her. The Umbrella is infused with Arcana's slime and can shape-shift into many things: a shield, a sword, a cane, heck even a fishing pole (she did this to piss Arcana off but her leader found it amusing and creative). This Vertin is also completely shameless when it comes to manipulating others as a means to an end.

She finds out what you desire most and uses that against you. It's one of the reasons Constantine branded her.

"You deserve more. They can't give you that, but I can," type of persuasion. She also frustrates Sonetto by talking around her instead of answering her questions or telling her what's on her mind.

Eventually Sonetto opens up to the Timekeeper about a friend she lost long ago. She's afraid one day she'll forget her.

Vertin has no idea she's talking about her because she didn't think Sonetto thought of her as a friend, just a deskmate she was stuck with. She assumed her friend fell in battle. Lots of people were reversed too so she still doesn't connect the dots until Sonetto specifically brings up the break-away event.

Vertin's name was added to the Forbidden List and you'd be punished for saying it (like the word "Storm" before it was public knowledge). This is one of the reasons the Timekeeper took so long to put together Sonetto's still grieving for her. She's not sure how to deal with this but she doesn't know how to make Sonetto happy. All these years later and she's still a burden on her deskmate.

Some things never change.

Aaaaand that's where I decided to start writing my story from. Although, I could sprinkle this background information throughout...if I knew what I was doing anyway. Reverse did it with AS while Vertin was in a coma so I decided on a dream route.

Sonetto is so scared she'll forget Vertin, she uses AS to see her again. However, she can never remember the color of her eyes. Smoltin would lower them when she spoke to her or avoid her gaze after she found out Sonetto asked the Instructor if she could switch deskmates. That's why it was the first thing she forgot. This makes her panic!

I also want to put Yeni in this fic. She's sooo much like Sonetto but more direct and sarcastic. Essentially, what she and the TK develop is what Sonetto and the TK could have been.

Sonetto tells herself she doesn't care. She's only worried about remembering Vertin and nothing else matters–

But how come she's never seen the TK's face but Yen has!? Unfair. She's known her longer.

Sonetto hasn't realized the others have seen Vertin's face. Constantine only dictated she wear the mask on missions to represent the Foundation, but doesn't care about what Vertin does in her free time once she realizes it's THAT VERTIN. Not many people recall what Smoltin looked like since she was never in the Spotlight due to her awful grades and she was tiny. Just harder to notice in general, especially when everyone's looking down to see her. The school did their best to cover up her past since she had no family to fight for her anyway. They were her "family" since she was a month old.

Vertin finds it hard to face Sonetto so she doesn't take it off in front of her. It's easier this way. She's also still figuring things out.

Constantine's happy her little pawn returned as a more powerful piece to play with. Madam Z cries a bit when she see Vertin, the child she failed to save.

Idk what to call this au or even if it's worth naming if I don't actually do anything with it but I'm open to opinions!

[iamnot-crazy]

Stowaway Chapter 3

Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Info: This is my first time posting a story on Tumblr and my first time writing a x reader.

Summary:

The reader is a slave to a nobleman due to her devil's fruit ability which allows her to control the emotions of the people around her. She flees to bump into Trafalgar Law and boards his ship.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

You have now made it your nightly routine to visit your captain once everyone has fallen asleep. You wouldn't use your power every night though sometimes you would sit in the corner you had made and read books with him or allow him to ramble to you to sort out his thoughts. After visiting a town you come back that night to find a black beanbag sitting in the corner you always sit in. You smiled taking it as your invitation to visit more often even when everyone is awake and can notice you sneaking into his office. Rumors did start to spread but they were all cut down by a quick glare from their captain. 

Your powers started to increase now being able to feel people's emotions from across the room now when someone approaches you about their problems you are quick to know who it is and how they are feeling. You revealed your new ability by accident after a very long day when a crew member approached you from behind and you spoke up before they came within 3 feet of you, "No Shachi, Ikkaku is not mad at you for your last prank." You paused trying to read Ikkaku's emotion from across the room, "But she is extremely hungry if you want to make it up to her you should get her something to eat." You spoke without lifting your head and continued to rest on the table in front of you. Shachi froze holding his hand up ready to tap you on the shoulder but shook off any weird thoughts he might have about you and chalked it up to you knowing everyone so well. He smiled with a thank you and ran off to find some food for his angry crewmate. 

Your slip-up would not have been a problem if it wasn't for Law sitting next to you reading the paper. Later that night when you came into his office he immediately questioned you, "Since when have you been able to feel other people's emotions." 

You shrugged, "about 3 weeks ago." you then picked up your current read off the beanbag before plopped down on it. But Law was quick to do the math and realize that was the day he fixed your tattoo. 

"How does it work?" He asked curiously, 

You shrugged again, "I don't know it first started I had to be touching the person then I realized if I take my gloves off I can feel the emotions of the people around me." 

"Your gloves are laced with Seas Prism right?" He question reaching out for your glove to investigate further. You pulled the glove off and handed it to him to investigate. When he put the glove on he tried to call a room but the biggest it would go was the size of a quarter. "If the gloves are limiting your abilities, I wonder how powerful you can be." 

"That would be the goal of the gloves." You state not looking up from your book.

"Have you tried keeping your gloves off for a day?" He asked taking the gloves off and creating a room the size of the office and shambling the book in front of him trading it for another book on sea prism. The first book neatly replaced the new one on the shelves, ever since you began to crash his office you have been bickering with him about putting books back on the shelves and not just on the floor or desk and his office has now been the neatest it has ever been, it was still a mess with paperwork sprawled on the desk and the books are not in any particular order but you still consider it a win. 

"I don't enjoy the feeling of everyone's emotions." You state answering his earlier question. But he ignored your response and continued to read about sea prism and its effects on devil fruit users. No book mentions anyone trying to conceal their powers like you do forcing its limitation. He swaps the book out for another on devil fruits and he finds a section about the feel-feel fruit. His eyes darted across the page surprised he hadn't read up on your powers before. 

You slam your book shut gaining his attention, "I can feel your brain working overtime. Please don't tell me you are reading up on my devil fruit abilities." You watch as he quickly closes the book and shuffles it off to the side biting the inside of his cheek. You shake your head, "I didn't choose to have this devil fruit ability yes it has its perks but it has mostly just caused pain in my life." You grab the glove off his desk and place it back on your hand limiting the range of your powers and blocking off the feeling of guilt your captain was radiating. "I would prefer to keep my powers limited." You snatch the book off the desk and place it back on the shelf in a spot where you'll be able to tell if it moved. "Maybe it's time to head to sleep." 

Law sighed, "I think I am going to stay up a bit longer." He stated turning back to his desk and notes.

"Fine but please don't try and learn more about my powers and if you do please don't tell me I don't want to know." You sigh before walking out of the room.

Law stayed true to your ask and the devil fruit book stayed in its position on the shelf but his eyes kept hovering over the book, he just wanted to know if you knew how he was starting to feel towards you but he thinks he already knew that answer. 

**

The ship docked at an island with a large town and the crew was ready to explore. Everyone departed from the ship and took off down the street exploring the shops. You, Shachi, and Ikkaku decided to explore together mainly Ikkaku and you dragged Shachi along on your shopping trip for clothing. 

Bepo and Law went out together unable to contain the crew who was excited to depart from the ship and stretch their legs. Law dragged Bepo into the bookstore where they collected a large stack of books. 

You laughed as you skipped down the street and Shachi groaned holding two bags of clothing for you and Ikkaku. Suddenly you bumped into someone and you turned around to quickly apologize but froze when you saw who you bumped into. A large arm reached down and grabbed your arm yanking you upwards. 

You let out a small scream as the large man held your arm and pulled you off the ground. Ikkaku and Shachi quickly began shouting at the man and running towards you, Shachi even dropped the bags he was holding. 

"I haven't seen you in a long time where have you been?" The man hissed in your face spitting slightly, You started to pull at your arm trying to free yourself. "Your master is worried sick about you. I should bring you to him, maybe he will reward me if I do. Or maybe he will let me beat you back into submission." 

You pale and stop struggling in fear, your eyes never leaving the man who would visit the mansion often to abuse your ability and beat you when he wasn't satisfied. Your master allowed it thinking you would learn how to use your powers more if the sense was beaten into you. Your heart was pounding outside your chest and the world seemed to have stopped. 

Your ears rang with static drawing out any noise Ikkaku and Shachi were making as the guards of the man held them back. The only thing you could hear was the threats the man was making and your heart racing. 

"ROOM!"

"SHAMBLES!"

You felt the grip on your arm disappear and you were surrounded by fur lying in Bepo's arms you could nearly make out the figure of your captain with his sword out and in a fighting stance in front of you. "Take her back to the ship." He hissed his voice breaking through the static. You turned your head into Bepo's chest and began sobbing. You couldn't do anything in the arms of your past abuser but stare and panic. 

Bepo ran as fast as he could away from the fight the Captain was ending. Without a second thought, Law ran up to the man who held you hostage and sliced him in half using his fruit ability to keep him alive while doing so. The guards turned to help their commander but were held back by Ikkaku and Shachi who pulled out their katanas and began fighting back. 

The man Law had cut in half just began laughing, "So she has been with you Trafalgar Law, has she been treating you well?" He laughed so more, "Oh how I missed her powers always made my day so refreshing and when it didn't teaching her a lesson would." 

Law's knuckles went white as he ran up to the man using his powers to conduct an electric shock to the half of his body where his heart lay. "YOU WILL NOT TOUCH HER AGAIN!" Law shouted conducting another electric shock on the man who lay unconscious on the ground from the first blow. Law screamed as he continued to slash at the man dicing him into pieces. 

Law stopped when more of his crew joined in the fight taking down the guards. Penguin was the first to run up to his captain to try to stop the terror he was inflicting upon the man who was probably a noble of some sort. He grabbed the arm of his captain and pulled it backward to convince him to stop and follow them as now they needed to make a quick escape before the Marines showed up. 

They left but the man before them was not dead but in so many pieces it would take the Marines all day to put him back together and Law hoped that process would be antagonizing. 

The crew rushed aboard the ship where you remained in Bepo's arms crying uncontrollably. The rest of the crew was already aboard the ship surrounding Bepo and you with concern. They turned when Law approached scared of his reactions and quickly stepped out of his way as he approached you. 

Bepo was holding you tight trying to calm you bouncing you like a baby but nothing was working. Your breathing started to hicks as you attempted to suck in air but were unable to in your state which cause more panic inside of you and you began to choke yourself in sobs. Law noticed this and immediately ran over to you trying to calm you but nothing he could do would work, he picked up a nearby rock shouting shambles, replaced it with a sedative, and swiftly stabbed it into your arm. 

Your breathing and heart rate slowed back to normal levels and your sobs quieted. Bepo's tight grip on you loosens and the mink looks up at his captain for answers along with the rest of the crew. 

"Who was that guy?" Shachi finally spoke up above the quiet blanket that covered the crew. 

"Somebody from y/n past." Law answers not speaking much on your past without your say.  He places two fingers on your neck to observe your heart rate.

"He said her master missed her... Was.. Was y/n a slave?" Ikkaku dared to ask the larger question and the crew was filled with confusion and anger the feeling of protectiveness of the crew could be felt from a mile away.

Law pulled you out of Bepo's arms and into his own, "I will not answer questions about, y/n, while she is unable to speak for herself. We need to leave this town before the Marines show up. prepare the ship for dive." He ordered before storming off with you in his arms. He made a beeline for the Medical room placing you comfortably down on the table. He checked your heart rate for the hundredth time to ensure that not only were you alive but that you were not having an adverse reaction to the sedative. 

After an hour of Law bouncing his knee impatiently waiting for you to wake up and crewmembers approaching the door debating about asking for an update you finally woke up. Your eyes fluttered open and your arm reached to your head to block the light in your eyes. As soon as you moved Law jumped onto his feet, "Y/N!" 

You moaned in response, "What happened?" you looked over at Law, whose eye bags were darker than normal and his emotions of worry and concern hit you like a rock. You looked at your hand to see that your gloves were missing which is why you could feel not only Laws worry but the entire crew who rested outside the door. "Where are my gloves?" You mumbled trying to sit up. 

Law passed the gloves he was holding to one keep his powers in check and two to ensure the gloves would not hinder your recovery. You put the gloves on closing off your connection to the emotions of the entire crew. With your gloves on you could now feel your own emotions hit you like a wave as the memories of today came back. Your head began to split with pain and the room began to spin. Unable to contain yourself you hunched over and vomited on the floor followed by tears. Law grabbed you by your shoulder keeping you stable.

"y/n look at me. Look at me." Law begged so you lifted your head and met his eyes. Your eyes were the darkest black that he had ever seen. "He is gone he not going to hurt you ever again."

You sniffled away some tears, "I was so scared Law. I was so scared and I didn't do anything just stared. I... I. Can't go back... They'll break me. I can't go back." you sobbed into your captain's shoulder.

He held you close to him and patted your head. "you won't I promise." he rubbed your back to comfort you as you sobbed. "have you ever heard of the will of D."

You pull back shaking your head and wiping away your tears to look at him clearly. "the will of D refers to the family of D which is also referred to as the natural enemy of god. And the celestial dragons refer to themselves as Gods." your mind wandered searching for his point. "my full name is Trafalgar D. Water Law." he paused to wipe away a stray tear of yours, "which means no one can touch you not while I'm here."

You smiled but tears still built up in your eyes and Law wished he had your power so that he could ease your pain.

***

Next Chapter

[boinin]

Broken Hero: Kunigami's journey in the Neo Egoist League

Overanalysing one edgy orange

0. Background and references

This weekend, I read an excellent analysis on Kunigami on Reddit (it spawns things other than fraud allegations and thirst posts sometimes)... and I was not OK as a result.

I'd been building up to writing an analysis of Kunigami's character for some time, and when the hyperfocus kicked in, it kicked in hard.

Come with me to explore how Kunigami's character arc and journey may pan out within the Neo Egoist League. Manga spoilers throughout, including up to the latest chapters (226 at time of writing).

I'd highly recommend reading StarBurstero's analysis (and their other work!) as this piece heavily draws on the points they raise.

All manga panels are sourced from the official translations, due to the possibility of nuance and foreshadowing that may not arise in scanlations.

Like this? Want to reference these points in your own analysis, on Reddit, YouTube, wherever? Go ahead! A shout out to this post is appreciated. (Straight up plagiarism isn't.)

Pre-Wildcard Kunigami: a wannabe hero

Kunigami has his grumpier moments in the first selection (see: him yeeting Bachira, or breaking up fights), but all in all he's a stand up guy. That's clear from his interaction with Isagi in the cafeteria, where they both share his goal-point steak.

Another character defining moment for him takes place after Team Z's victory against Team V. Kunigami doesn't support Kuon's actions, but he is willing to forgive him now that all has been settled. Raichi is decidedly less forgiving. But Kunigami lingers, and helps a bloodied Kuon to his feet. The choice of dialogue is interesting.

We'll advance together. We know this won't be the case. Both Kuon and Kunigami fail in the second selection, and Kunigami is the sole participant that leaves Wild Card.

But nevertheless, this exchange showcases Kunigami's core attitude. He sees the best in people. He values teamwork and unity, even if he shows egotism in relation to his own goals. He's someone that helps others.

2. What canon information do we have on Wild Card?

...just crumbs. Information on Wild Card has been intentionally vague, with only Ego, Kunigami, and possibly Noa knowing what happened.

Ego simply calls it a secondary route for the losers, and doesn't specify whether there were any entry requirements. The pile of bodies and the attention given to hands suggests two things.

Firstly, contrary to my own assumptions, Wild Card was likely open to all participants eliminated during the second selection. Ego threw the losers a bone, despite having a very specific outcome in mind. The vast majority wouldn't have had a hope of meeting the criteria.

Is that cruel? Maybe. But it's consistent with Ego's attitude towards "lumps of talent". He admitted both Chigiri and Isagi into Blue Lock despite their lacklustre performances in high school, on the basis that the programme might bring forth their sealed egos. He was proven correct.

The focus on hands, other than being creepy, hints at ambidexterity being a key deciding factor in the Wild Card programme. Kunigami confirms this above, in a panel from chapter 213.

Kunigami himself refers to Wild Card as a survival battle, where participants had to match Noa's physical specs number for number. He implicitly confirms that he himself got the closest to Noel Noa's physical abilities, thus winning Wild Card.

3. Kunigami's mindset

We're all Isagi in the bottom corner of that last panel, wanting to know more. But Kunigami has yet to elaborate.

In the Reddit post I linked, StarBurstero theorises what's going through Kunigami's angsty little head: becoming the best striker. Not a midfielder, not a false nine - a striker, and only that. The author proposes that, having had to crush and eliminate everyone in Wild Card, Kunigami has limited empathy for those such as Isagi and Kurona, who are remoulding themselves into other roles to fit into Bastard Munchen.

This tallies with how Noa sees himself, in explaining the distinction between him (the world's best striker), and Snuffy (the world's best player) in chapter 223.

As a player Isagi is closer to Snuffy, in terms of his ability and willingness to adapt, than he is to Noa. Isagi is willing to do whatever it takes to participate in the Neo Egoist League, even if this means providing assists or playing in midfield. But he still maintains his dream of playing as a striker.

As different as Kunigami and Isagi are on the surface, they share a dream. Both want to be the best strikers in the world. In that, they're a lot more similar than the fandom give them credit for.

But the conditions of the Neo-Egoist League pose a stumbling block.

There are limited forward positions, not only in Bastard Munchen, but on the national team itself. To nab a starting position for the U20 World Cup, the characters have only two choices: outshine everyone else playing as a forward, or forsake their dream by assuming a different position. They must choose wisely.

4. Resolve versus adaptability: the Bastard Munchen test

Thematically, Isagi and Kunigami are reflections of one another. They are each others "what ifs?" in a sense.

Heroes in the first selection, both Isagi and Kunigami faced elimination in the 2v2 stage of the second selection; Isagi survived, while Kunigami lost. Isagi emerged as the hero of Blue Lock, following the U20 Japan match. At the same time, Kunigami battled to become the "hero" of Wild Card.

Eventually Kunigami joined Bastard Munchen, alongside Isagi. But they're not co-operative teammates as they were before. They're rivals, battling against one another for the role of striker on this team.

Theirs is a quiet competition, secondary to Isagi and Kaiser's more hostile conflict. But I believe there's thematic significance to their rivalry. For this reason, it's interesting to trace their dynamic over time.

Isagi considered himself outclassed by Kunigami in the first selection. Back then, Kunigami didn't the same "goal sense" that Isagi had. He wasn't particularly technical as a player. He relied on passes and his physicality to get the ball and score goals, using his strength to reliably score from a distance. He's still extremely impressive, in Isagi's eyes.

As Isagi sees it, Kunigami's key attribute is his resolve. He trains hard to maintain his physique. He has a clear vision of who he is, and what kind of footballer he wants to be. At the same point in the story, Isagi lacks this. Even at the start of the Neo-Egoist League, Isagi struggles to articulate what his ideal form is as a player, which Noa calls him out on.

It's understandable that Isagi struggles to formulate what his ideal is, because Isagi's genius lies in his adaptability. Throughout the manga, Isagi has been placed into situations that are chaotic, novel and difficult. His approach to football and his abilities have been challenged in every match, and he's been forced to rebuild himself over and over again.

This is what makes Isagi exceptional, in addition to his incredible eyesight and football sense. He's constantly evolving, constantly coming up with ways to beat his competition. No wonder he can't settle on an ideal, when he's been forced to change constantly. All he's certain of is his desire to play as a striker.

5. Chasing strikers: Isagi's journey

Isagi's problem is that he's never been the best striker in Blue Lock. It's his dream to play as one, but purely in terms of his ability to convert opportunities into goals, Isagi is outclassed by a number of players. Rin. Nagi. Shidou. Arguably Barou.

When these players receive the ball near the goal, their ability to put it through the goalposts is simply better than Isagi's. They have the physique, the strength, or the technical skill to outmanoeuvre whatever obstacles are in the way. This is also true of Kaiser: both have metavision, but Kaiser is far better at scoring, as Isagi himself admits. Kaiser is another prodigy, like Nagi or Sae.

Kunigami is also better at securing goals than Isagi is. However, he's not a prodigy, and he lacks Isagi's insane playmaking ability. Nor does he have Ness, Kurona or Yukimiya on his side. Nobody on the team has a reason to support Kunigami or his goal-scoring competence. Least of all, Isagi: his rival for the position of striker in Bastard Munchen, and his antithesis in a sense.

While Isagi assisted Kunigami in the Barcha match, he does so to stay relevant, after Noa threatens to bench them both.

In the Manshine match, Kunigami poaches Isagi's goal attempt. As furious as Isagi is in this moment, it's not obvious that Isagi's shot would have gone in by itself. He targeted the corner of the goal, but the trajectory appears to veer up and left, beyond the goal.

Kaiser alludes to the shot's inaccuracy, and Isagi acknowledges his shortcomings after the match ends. While his eyesight is his "god given gift", he realises that he lacks the physical ability to make his foresight a reality, per this conversation with Hiori.

Who else does he approach?

While he has the wrong idea (seeking Kunigami's advice on becoming ambidextrous), Isagi's dialogue is on the nose.

Kunigami has what Isagi lacks: the physique and ability needed to consistently score goals. Halfway through the Neo-Egoist League, Isagi realises that to secure a position as a forward, he needs to emulate Kunigami in some way. His hard training pays off: his ranking jumps six points between the Manshine and Ubers matches.

Kunigami is a mirror that Isagi looks into and learns from. And like a morphing reflection, their positions are starting to reverse. While Kunigami performed better initially in the Neo-Egoist League, both in training and in the Barcha match, now Isagi is coming to the fore as the strongest Blue Lock player in Bastard Munchen. His performance in Manshine was incredible. His playmaking in the Ubers match so far surpasses it.

If they are intended to be mirrors, then what can Kunigami learn from his reflection: Isagi?

6. Inert hero: Kunigami's arc

Analysing Isagi is straightforward. We have access to his thoughts and development, all the way through Blue Lock. The same can't be said for Kunigami, whose POV was shown rarely during the first and second selection, but not once since his return in Chapter 155.

There's still conclusions we can draw, despite leaning into extrapolation territory.

Kunigami has always trained hard. The Volume 3 omake (Team Z's schedule) alludes to the guy spending every hour he can in the gym.

While Kunigami entered Blue Lock at a higher level than arguably anyone in Team Z, he stagnated as his teammates rapidly developed. He doesn't have a documented awakening, unlike the other Egoist Four characters. The single moment of progression shown was his first goal against Team V, but this was more Kunigami challenging his limits than truly evolving.

My theory is that this goes back to his key attribute: resolve. His formula of working hard and playing consistently has worked so far. Why change?

Other characters like Isagi experienced failures and setbacks prior to and during Blue Lock, but we don't see Kunigami experience anything similar until the second selection.

It's unfortunate that he only experiences a first setback in losing to Team White. Had a moment of failure taken place earlier, the second selection may have played out differently for Kunigami. As it was, this segment of Blue Lock was not forgiving of mistakes. Only players who could adapt and evolve, devour and be devoured, made it to the third selection.

Kunigami just didn't have that adaptability. It's contrary to his nature of working hard, consistently and fairly.

Shidou remarks on Kunigami's resolute nature explicitly after their 2v2 match. It's why he chooses Reo over Kunigami.

Analysis often focuses on Shidou's criticism of Kunigami's heroic idealism, given that Kunigami goes on to reject this himself. But the second point Shidou makes is more important. He's really critiquing Kunigami's inability to adapt and react, not his strength or his motivation. But Kunigami seemingly only internalises the first part.

Failure in the second selection made Kunigami discard heroism as his motivation, in addition to the conditioning forced on him in Wild Card. But Kunigami continues to struggle, even after leaving his so-called naivety in hell.

He came out of Wild Card stronger, faster, and more competent at scoring. It's still not enough to out-do Kaiser and impress Noa in the Barcha match.

If Kunigami took Shidou's words to heart, he might consider his success in Wild Card proof that he can break himself down and be rebuilt. At a minimum, we can speculate that Wild Card consisted of the participants being deconstructed piece by piece, egos eroded and replaced with a drive to become Noel Noa's "vessel".

But in truth, Kunigami already had a lot of the traits needed to become Noa's copycat. Other than developing ambidexterity and packing on even more muscle, the "breaking down" that took place was really the overwriting of his idealism with that of Noa's.

When Ego considers the ways participants may succeed in the Neo-Egoist League, both Isagi and Kunigami are pictured. At the present stage in the manga, Isagi seems to be the fish adapting to his environment and thriving - slowly dyeing the fabric of Bastard Munchen to suit his playstyle.

Kunigami is the one suffocating, unable to breath in this claustrophobic environment.

His core issue - his lack of adaptability - persists. He is unwilling to consider being anything else than a pure striker. In the Neo-Egoist League to date, he has failed to make chemical reactions with anyone.

If Isagi is a universal catalyst, Kunigami is inert. For now.

7. Hero rebuilt: Kunigami, secondary protagonist

Kunigami is an important part of the Neo-Egoist League arc. Not only is he a returning character, but a significant parallel to Isagi. It's no coincidence that they are presented together in many of the panels relating to the arc as a whole.

There's a lot of symbolism in Blue Lock. The panel announcing the Neo-Egoist League establishes Isagi and Kunigami as dual protagonists, with Kaiser as the primary antagonist. The end of the Barcha match really reinforces the idea that these characters are the main heroes within Bastard Munchen.

Isagi has been on a learning journey from the beginning of this arc, starting with his underdog struggle against Kaiser. If Kunigami's journey is a mirror of Isagi's, then we can expect him to encounter his most difficult hurdle later in the arc, leading to an epiphany about his playstyle. At this point, it's fair to conclude this will happen in Bastard Munchen's match against Paris X Gen.

These are my outstanding questions about Kunigami's journey, which I believe the manga must eventually address:

What will be Kunigami's darkest hour: the low point where he realises he must change or die (metaphorically)?

When he overcomes this moment and emerges stronger, like a phoenix - what will Kunigami's true ego be? Will he return to his original heroism, or strike a balance between his past and present selves? Hero and Wild Card, accepting both?

I'm not going to delve much into Question 2. Hero, Wild Card, Dark Horse, Phoenix - all of these could work as a manifestation of Kunigami's ego. The only thing I can say with confidence is that his ego will manifest. This has been the case for each of the other Egoist Four characters (although Isagi's true ego remains in flux). Personally, I'd like to see an ego manifestation that reconciles the personas of pre- and post-Wild Card Kunigami. I trust the writer and mangaka will serve on that front when the time comes.

On question 1, the fandom (and myself) are hyped for a particular reunion. It's hard to imagine a better catalyst for Kunigami's change than the person that sent him to Wild Card in the first place: a literal demon, the manifestation of Kunigami's internal woes.

Shidou is the opposite of Kunigami in many ways, when they encounter each other in the second selection. Although both are strong with imposing physical abilities, Shidou is chaotic while Kunigami is lawful; Shidou abhors dull players, the ones that cannot spark "explosions", while Kunigami sees Shidou as a violent psychopath. Shidou has no qualms in crushing weaker players. Kunigami defends them, regardless of their nature.

But Kunigami has changed greatly since their last encounter. He and Shidou have more in common than before. In Wild Card, Kunigami had to learn how to crush the weak, despite his inclination to advance together. He's had to become more aloof, more violent even, to survive in Wild Card and in the Neo Egoist League. He's more resolute in becoming the world's best striker than ever.

But Kunigami still doesn't know how to explode. He doesn't have chemical reactions with other players. The part of him that valued teamwork died in Wild Card. Compare this to Shidou, who thrives off what he calls explosions. He adores Sae, because their chemistry on the field made Shidou soar. Sae unleashes Shidou's inner dragon.

I believe in facing Shidou, who will form reactions with his supportive teammates, Kunigami will come to realise that he cannot overcome his demons without assistance from outside. He'll realise his heroism was never the issue: it was his lack of adaptability. To overcome Shidou, Kunigami will need a catalyst to create a chemical reaction.

Luckily, Bastard Munchen has the one person capable of reacting with anyone: the embodiment of adaptability. Who better to set the true Kunigami free than his idealogical mirror? The one person who, thematically, has been by his side since the start?

A link-up between Isagi and Kunigami - dual protagonists, reflections of one another - would be an amazing way to round off both Isagi and Kunigami's journeys in the Neo Egoist League. Even better if the final goal against Paris X Gen is the result of their genuine teamwork - mirroring their resentful co-operation during the Barcha match.

I'm manifesting this and I hope you might too. If for no other reason because... can you imagine the look on Kaiser's face if this happens?

Absolute gold.

---

If you read to the end, thank you! I'd love to hear my fellow nerds thoughts on this and Kunigami generally.

Further reading: short analysis of Kunigami's effectiveness on the pitch up to chapter 232.

[captain-crowfish]

And here's a rant about how the Mormon church perceives people with autism (this can include other forms of neurodivergency)

In heaven, regardless of which level of heaven you end up in, your body is now perfect. Any "imperfections" (I.E. maybe your ears are slightly asymmetrical, or you have a floating rib, or a permanent scar from an injury) are now erased. This also includes people who are physically disabled or transgender.

Now, that in of itself is kind of gross, even if the Mormons think their intentions are good; you're perfect before you go to Earth and after physical death you return to heaven all the same. Never mind if somebody altered their body enough to feel more comfortable in it or learned to love themselves in spite of their disability, that's all gone now.

And regarding the main reason why I'm typing this in the first place: what about people who are born disabled or neurodivergent?

My younger brother is on the autism spectrum, and it's easy to tell even from a glance. At the moment of typing this he's in high school now, even though cognitively he is on par with a toddler. He absolutely cannot and should not be left alone unsupervised and has put his own life in danger multiple times within the past two years without being able to comprehend why.

I've been told that when we see each other in heaven after we die, he won't be Autistic at all. He'll act like any neurotypical individual.

And he'll say to our family "Thank you for treating me with kindness."

Now, before I go on any further I feel as though it is necessary for me to express that I do not reject the concept of an after-life or even a "before-life" entirely, merely I (perhaps naively) cling on to the core religous beliefs of heaven and being kind to everyone and always having some omnipotent genderless deity because I find them comforting. I have slipped into several pits of existential fear throughout my life and at the moment I don't see myself becoming a full-on atheist.

Back to the subject at hand, "Thank you for treating me with kindness." Rubs me VERY much the wrong way.

For starters, my brother (still) does not fully understand the concepts of right and wrong. That's the simplest way of putting it. I don't think he understands most forms of discipline (the only way that's seemed to work aside from yelling at him and making him sob and scream is making him write out "I will not put water in the soap dispenser" multiple times. He knows that if he does that action again, he will have to write more sentences. And he doesn't like it.

To further elaborate, he never acts maliciously (even though it's hard to tell sometimes.). He never has done anything "bad" with the intention of making anyone pissed off. And when my parents do discipline him to the point of meltdown, nearly every time it's in regards to his own safety or something that will greatly inconvenience them, literally or emotionally.

People should not be shamed for their first, gut-instinct, emotional response. If my parents do yell at him, usually they try to explain to him in a more comforting way later. Which he still gets upset by.

Do you start to see where I'm going with this? We try to be as nice to him as we possibly, humanly can even while being under constant stress from his tendency to be unpredictable, and he reacts as though, and I'm only saying this for the sake of making a comparison, like somebody smashed his electronics out of pure spite.

Secondly, Mormons believe we experience earthly life so we have the ability to make choices. The implications of that sentence alone are kind of terrifying but that's not the point I'm trying to make here. My point is, why would you choose to be born like this? When somebody's mental or physical capabilities are limited to any extent, so much that you often can't make the choices you want to make because of those setbacks, why would you voluntarily sign up just to be a morality check for other people?

Thirdly, and this co-insides with my second point, how do you think it feels when somebody who is, for lack of a better term, cognitive enough to comprehend all this is told that their existence is, according to the plan of salvation, nothing than a morality check? Another one of God's tests?

You sit in your darkened bedroom on a bleak Sunday night and realize what the church truly thinks about you for the first time. Your autism diagnosis denies you any agency of your own, and yet you're "normal enough" to still understand and experience choice, consequence and autonomy on nearly the same level that Neurotypical people have. And now you catch yourself wishing you weren't cognitive enough to realize the full extent of this horribly flawed design. You wish you were more like your brother.

I am you. You want to know what I feel when I fully realize the extent of living as nothing more than a morality check? I feel angry. I feel betrayed. I feel WORTHLESS. I feel horrified that this could be a big factor as to why my parents refuse to ever take me seriously until I've collapsed on the floor. Literally, this has happened more than once.

Fourth (yes, Oh God, there's more.) The plan of salvation also illustrates that, before we are born, we choose our families, our parents specifically. And that's another very icky implication/rhetoric that can be (and most likely has been) used to keep family members in abusive situations.

In case I haven't made it clear already, I am also on the autism spectrum. I can't list off everything that means for me all at once, but I have trouble detecting sarcasm and I am extremely bothered by loud, unexpected noises.

Now, something I think more people should understand, (especially my parents) is that disability accommodations are not a one-size-fits-all plan, nor will they ever be. I saw a great post on this website once that said something along the lines of "the same flashing lights on a fire alarm that are used to alert deaf people might give someone else an epileptic seizure." And that helped me come to learn more about the severity of a situation that has been plaguing me almost my entire life.

My brother, being Autistic, often Stims. Either as a way to express/filter excitement or as a form of self-regulation.

Very SUDDENLY and LOUDLY.

and those two adjectives together used to describe any sound are noises that I cannot fucking stand.

And as much as my parents think otherwise, I'm not TRYING to PURPOSEFULLY stop him from expressing/filtering excitement or self regulating. My first GUT REACTION is to tell him to be quiet, right after feeling an enormous amount of discomfort. I never hurt him in any way because I WANT to, but because my overstimulation is firing on all cylinders and 'telling me' that I HAVE to. It is never entirely a conscious decision for me to react in the ways that my parents disapprove of because they are "not nice."

My dad swears up and down that this is a behavior that I can unlearn. It's been 6 or so years of him telling me that and it's only made me afraid of him, too. Because he refuses to see the situation from my actual perspective.

And of course, every summer my brother is home from school, and every summer I realize more and more how on edge I really feel, and how my parents have been the real root cause of my CPTSD the whole fucking time.

So back to the subject of heaven, if my before-earthly-life heavenly self, in all my divine-ish wisdom, looked at my parents and saw in the future how much they would disregard me, why the FUCK did I choose them?

And if my brother, being his before-earthly-life heavenly self, in all his divine-ish wisdom, looked at my parents and me and saw in the future how much I would suffer and how much we would all be torn apart because of his existence, WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY did he choose to live with us, when my suffering is not voluntary?

So, to conclude, In terms of how much my parents are doing in terms of the walking, talking morality tests, they're flunking HARD when it comes to me. I'm not surprised that they don't even fucking realize it.

When it comes to my brother, I can only guess that he thinks he's suffering, but my parents are doing their best to accommodate his needs (and absolutely none of mine). Who determines the final score? My brother or God?

Of course, given the same logic, apparently I'm being scored on my involuntary reactions to my brother's behavior. And I'd be going to hell. We're here on Earth to make choices and I choose to suffer as little as I possibly can (which isn't fucking saying much.) And because I APPARENTLY have the choice to feel discomfort or not, therefore I'm making poor decisions and deserve damnation for the same fucking reason I was put on this Earth.

Mormons, do you want to elaborate on all this? Is there anything you could possibly say to my face besides "God and heaven work in mysterious ways." FUCK this. FUCK you and your views on autism. FUCK my parents and FUCK your Mormon Jesus with the European complexion.

My life is hell.

[thehubby]

Introducing Dextra

Like many gamers, it has long been a goal of mine to develop and publish my own game, to add a minute something to the fabric of our culture, but especially to the hobby which I have enjoyed for a very long time. At long last, through a confluence of self-determination, assistance from friends, and an environment more friendly to independent publishing than any yet, the time for that dream is now. It gives me great pleasure to introduce you to the my first role-playing game, Dextra.

What is Dextra? It is a very rules-light narrative-focused tabletop RPG. It is designed for players who are most interested in a game system that helps them structure telling stories, not crunching numbers and trying to figure out optimal builds. In fact, telling a good story is the only objective and "win" condition in Dextra. Even if the land is ravished, the villain escapes and the heroes perish, if the table tells a satisfying tale, the table wins.

How does Dextra play? Dextra is designed for casual players (even if they do take their stories very seriously!), and is intended to address one of the biggest problems I personally have had with tabletop gaming over the years: rules bloat and accessibility. There is only one hard rule in Dextra: every facet of the game (including contributions of the players) must be subservient to the story at hand. Between the 15 pages of basic guidelines and 65 pages of support materials, there are many recommendations of how to proceed, but you are free and encouraged to ignore any and all of them as befits your need to tell the story.

There are no lists of classes, powers, equipment and such in Dextra, no codified character abilities, spells, races or anything else. It is a game truly limited only by the imagination of the players at the table. But you need not worry about your fellow players abusing this potential to create overpowered monstrosities, because they don't make their own characters. Each player provides a name and class -- any class, from fighter to fae emissary, wizard to werewolf hunter -- and character sheets are passed around the table where everyone else gives them the attributes, powers and abilities, equipment and items, and traits and quirks that make them who they are. It's a little like Mad Libs, except instead of dubiously entertaining jibberish, you're likely to end up with something cool like an Infernal Bloodline, a Ruggedness ability score, or Spear of Lightning.

Taking actions and overcoming challenges is done using 2d6 (two six-sided dice for any newcomers out there), adding the character elements that the player feels are appropriate to their roll, and comparing it to a predetermined difficulty that the Game Master establishes for the action. GMs don't need to look up any tables; they simply estimate the difficulty of an action (assuming it is one that carries a risk of failure at all) from 1 to 10, and add 5. There are guidelines for combat, hit points, character conditions and so on if desired, but Dextra does not contain realistic or complicated battle mechanics. If that's your jam, this may not be for you.

Is Dextra free? No, it is not free. Yes, it is. Though It took nearly a year to conceive, write, edit, format and ultimately publish the game, and I believe in fair compensation for myself just as for any other writer or creator, the market spoke after release and I determined it is more important to me that people be able to play the games I create than an occasional payout. Dextra and all of my other published games are free.

Where can I get it? Dextra is currently offered at Itch.io (link provided). It should be published on DriveThruRPG (link provided) sometime within the next three days after their review and approval. It is currently only available as a digital PDF download (preparing print-on-demand copies involves some software and expertise I do not currently possess). If you wish to obtain a copy of the game and have a preference between these two sites, by all means go with that. If you have no preference, then my recommendation is Itch.io, as they not only take a smaller cut of the sale, but have more features available (such as complimentary community copies and easier means to send free codes to users).

Where can I get more information? If you have questions about the game, send me an Ask on the Dextra-RPG Tumblr account. You can also check or follow that account for occasional posts of information and to find out how you can contribute to a crowd-sourced character creation project to be offered as a free download to potential players.

[dmagedgoods]

A Deal Worth Taking

Here we finally go. I said I would write a story for this confession. And I did. 😁 Rating: Explicit Relationship: Raphael/Male Durge (my character Cian) Tags of importance: sub Raphael, orgasm denial, chastity device and chastity magic (by contract), bondage, bdsm themes, dirty talk, sex toys, blow jobs, prostate play, anal sex, Haarlep mention but they don’t make an appearance Summary: A short while after the game Raphael makes another quite explicit deal with his favorite client. And comes to regret it. Or does he?

((Cian is a Seldarine drow, a sorcerer with a conceited streak, hungry for knowledge and the power it holds, in his spare time a writer and poet.)) AO3 ~ The self-control of this devil was disastrous for a creature so utterly convinced of – and dependent on – his abilities as a master manipulator. Cian leaned closer to place a kiss on this angry, tight-lipped mouth. To his own surprise, Raphael kissed him back. It was not a patient kiss and did nothing to conceal his desire. Raphael kissed him as if to devour him, as if to regain some of the control he had taken from him, his lips moving in a sinful manner that sent burning pleasure through his veins. “See, that’s the core of the problem I’m talking about.” Cian grinned and put some distance between them again. “You will pay for your insolence, little mouse, you will pay for it direly.” He tested the strength of the ropes tying his wrists to the bedframe, but their enchantment would hold him in place. Cian was confident in the spell, and even if not, well, thanks to their newest contract, he had other means to enforce the cambion’s … cooperation. With the faintest smile, he hummed in agreement and rubbed his thumb softly over one of Raphael’s hardened nipples. Gods above – what an empty saying, the gods had no hand in this –, he was breathtaking, and intensely aware of that fact. The magical mirror he had conjured above the bed made sure he was able to admire himself, just the way he liked it, and the desperate state he was in. “You put your signature on the bottom line, my fiendish friend. For three days, you are mine – within the limitations we agreed on.” He knew well that Raphael had underestimated his creativity. And oh, he would find ways to punish him for the liberties he took right now, there was no question about it, so he would make sure the game was worth whatever he planned to inflict on him. “Picturesque.” He muttered. “Surely you didn’t lose your taste for fine art.” The devil’s magnificent horns rested on a soft pillow, thick enough to support the position, his enormous wings spread underneath his naked, crimson body which was bound to the luxurious bed by heavy iron around wrists and ankles like a glorious, sinister painting. Skillfully bound, heat-resistant ropes held his legs wide open, and all his most intimate parts accessible, and vulnerable. Cian smiled as he surveyed a detail he especially enjoyed: another well-shaped piece of metal – pure gold, not iron –, delicately ornate and yet cruel and unyielding, kept his cock from growing fully hard. The entwined bars left space to allow stimulation of the sensitive flesh and for the impressive length to fight against its restraints, but held it firmly enough to be noticeable at all times and quite uncomfortable in states of arousal. – States of arousal like the one he was in right now in this very moment. His hands – their pale white a stark contrast to the dark red – explored the masterpiece this devil was with open admiration, the sharp lines and ridged skin and tense muscles. His massive tail twitched, betraying his inner turmoil. “I want you to watch yourself break apart underneath my hands, Raphael, and watch closely: all the things this little mortal can do to you if he so desires.”

He felt the heat of his body rising under his touch in unrestrained rage. “You insolent little wretch, who do you think you are dealing with?”

Cian chuckled and lowered his lips to the pointed ear to speak with a low voice: “The devil I got to know a little too well.”

He brought his mouth to the sensitive skin of his neck and bit down not too gently, and smirked with satisfaction when Raphael gasped.

The shine of the near fire played on his chest, his abdomen and thighs, and he put enough distance between them to hold his gaze as he ran his hands over his body again, almost worshipping it with slow, smooth strokes, tantalizing, and enjoyed it a little too much when the devil’s hip twitched upwards while he gave intense attention to the sensitive inner sides of his thighs but none to his caged cock.

In his egomania and impatience, Raphael tended to lose his temper too readily, but for now there was little he could do to escape the sweet torture, serving to remind him how pleasure could hold on and last.

With a smile he reached for one of the toys, not the first one tonight, and covered it in warm oil before he pressed the tapered end to his hole.

“Stop boring me.”

Raphael seemed displeased about the new intrusion. Ignoring his protest, Cian pushed it firmly against the rim. His hole opened up around it and there was no way for him to stop him from slowly and steadily easing it into him.

The way he clenched tightly around its narrow end hinted that it rested inside of him in a way that didn’t feel so boring now.

When he touched it again, the magic it held sent soft vibrations through the toy grinding against the devil’s prostate.

Raphael’s lips – a tight line of anger before – now open in a soft gasp. Cian caught a glint of the diamond adorning his forked tongue. Hells, he would love to feel it scratch against his skin while the devil used his mouth to pleasure him … Well, maybe later.

The magic of the plug increased the vibrations and massaged Raphael’s prostate in ways that were hard to bear – as he knew from experience. He usually couldn’t take it for long before it made him give into a rough release.

Of course, Raphael had no such choice. The cage, more humbling adornment and agonizing reminder than flawless tool to actually prevent all sorts of unauthorized orgasms, worked so relentlessly well thanks to a little bonus in their contract. It was written in cold ink: his pretty devil wouldn’t find sexual relief for three days, at least not without his explicit permission, no matter the stimulation, no matter what he tried. Furthermore, he was compelled to obey his every command for the same duration. – Aside from those explicitly excluded in the document. Another interesting detail gave Raphael the power to end this little game at any given moment. But if he made use of this bonus stipulation before the three days were over, well, he didn’t have to pay either.

All the rest, the restraints, the toys, they only served to inflict a delicious sensation of utter helplessness he certainly wasn’t used to.

Raphael probably hadn’t expected him to take advantage of the chastity clause to the extent he did.

His cock twitched and Cian watched with undisguised amusement how he tried to move his bound hands in a pointless attempt to stroke himself, believing he was still the one in control of his cock.

“Touching it would not help you much, Raphael. I’m doing you a favor by keeping it out of reach for you. Imagine the humiliation of rubbing yourself, frantically, unable to stop, but to no avail at all.” He smirked and the devil’s mouth opened. But instead of spitting curses, he moaned pathetically when he raised the vibrations of the toy inside of him.

“On the other hand, you seem to enjoy the thought.”

Whatever words Raphael threw back at him were in Infernal and, unfortunately, he had neglected his lessons.

Pre-cum dribbled from his glans and he reached out to stroke it in slow, tender circles, spreading the wetness and making the cambion squirm in an attempt to escape the teasing touch. The reaction encouraged him to keep going.

“Does it tingle too much when I tease it? It’s weeping already.”

“You forget that you will be mine.” Raphael’s deep voice sounded breathless, heavy with arousal and embarrassment, and still he managed to give the words a threatening touch: “In a heartbeat from now.”

“A heartbeat? I would not call it that.” Cian continued his cruel ministrations. “One month of service for three days of control over you,” he repeated the core of their arrangement without the slightest hint of fear. Aside from the main stipulations, it also included countless clauses and constraints that forbade lasting harm and defined what was to be considered as such. – However, not a single paragraph against keeping the cambion bound to an overly comfortable bed and pleasuring him until he became a whimpering begging mess under his hands. “Worth it. I’m sure a devil like you has no idea how long three days can feel.”

“It’s barely a blink compared to the month ahead of y…ahh”

He thrusted upwards when he rubbed his cock more firmly through the cage and the stimulation, combined with the vibrations inside of him, brought him close to the sharp edge of an orgasm that wouldn’t come.

His tail lashed as he wiggled and tried to fuck himself on the plug without meeting the needed resistance. Raphael inhaled a sharp breath. His heavy balls clenched and the dark purple of his cock seemed more intense than usual between the unyielding golden bars. The build-up must have been more than he had ever experienced before, it looked deliciously uncomfortable, slightly painful, and he couldn’t resist. With another cruel smirk, Cian leaned in and licked the trapped, heated flesh. Raphael whined for him, and he took his caged cock into his mouth as wide as it fitted with the special jewelry around it, massaging the exposed parts with his tongue.

“Take it off!” The devil’s rage was palpable in the very air around them.

He ignored the harsh order and sucked more firmly, lapping at his glans with every upwards motion and taking in the bitter, salty note of his desperation, mixed with something strangely spicy and heavy, unique to the cambion. His cock felt hot against his tongue, even hotter than the rest of his body.

Cian’s hands stroked his muscular thighs while they strained against the restraints in Raphael’s fruitless attempts to close his legs and escape the agonizing edging.

But he was trapped. And he would experience every well-aimed stroke of his tongue, every teasing touch of his fingers and toys for as long as he decided.

The thrashing became stronger as if Raphael sought more stimulation despite the cruel tightness of his little cage. With a pleased little smile, Cian let his cock slip from his lips. It was wet from saliva and the now constant steam of clear precum.

“Remove this vile thing from me or I will make you regret it.”

“Manners, Raphael.” But he was willing to grant him a small mercy and free him from the cage. – For a little while. The lock reacted to the quadrangular ring he wore when he put it into the opening at the device’s side. Carefully, he removed the metal, and immediately Raphael’s erection grew to its full impressive length.

The devil let out a sigh of pleasure and relief and Cian captured his lips in another demanding kiss while he reached for the oil again, this time to coat his hands with it, wrap his right around his devil’s cock and rub it in slow, sensual motions. He could feel every delicious ridge against his palm, the more tender, silken skin near the tip, the tightly pulled back foreskin leaving the glans free and unprotected to his touch while he allowed his tongue to thrust into Raphael’s half-opened mouth, coaxing a moan from him and then another as he kissed him deeply in the rhythm of his strokes.

When he felt the cambion’s cock throb, hard, he removed his hand – and his lips as well.

Raphael looked positively miserable, his hair a mess of brown curls around his horns, his sharp-edged face glistening with sweat and tense in the agony he was unable to conceal, lines of discontent deep around his mouth and nose and a profound anger glowing in his bright eyes.

“Was that another edge?” Cian watched his length leak onto his abdomen and leave a sad little puddle. “It’s so swollen and constantly leaking, I can’t truly tell.”

“You impertinent little worm, don’t think for a second …”

“I allow you to cum,” he interrupted him. “You have my permission for exactly ten minutes. If you manage to get there.”

He put his hand back and started stroking him again, far more slowly now and so gently as to drive him insane.

Raphael moaned, then gritted his teeth to focus on the sensations.

Cian imagined the bright spike of an orgasm crawling from his tense stomach to his yearning cock, nearer and nearer, building steadily and so slowly it was sweet torture to reach it.

“Close …,” Raphael gasped, beginning to forget his pride. His hole clenched tightly around the toy while the wave of pleasure built with each of his tantalizing strokes.

Oh, Cian knew the feeling, those ripples of sharp sensation radiating throughout his body, that white hot tension pooling deep within. Raphael’s thighs were shaking now. Hells, he was incredible like this, entirely lost in sensation, robbed of all control.

And he had more for him.

Raphael’s body gave away that he was approaching orgasm any second now. He trembled, his full balls drawn close to his body, his hips met his strokes in little thrusts, and the sheer heat he radiated threatened to burn him. His attentive studies of his body’s reactions paid off. Those fierce sensations were right at their very peak when Cian brought the magical vibrations to a halt and pulled the toy out of him. At the same moment, he stopped his strokes and let go of the devil’s cock.

Raphael’s eyes widened. An anguished “No” slipped from his lips, then he groaned with helpless need. His body fought the restraints in earnest now, his cock twitched in cruel neglect. “Please!” It was the very first time he heard the proud cambion beg and the sudden little plea combined with the utter distress in his voice sent a hot jolt of arousal to his own groin.

Ah, if Raphael only knew. This little game cost him all the willpower he had. Cian was painfully hard since they had started. To witness him so defenseless, his beautiful body utterly vulnerable, all his, and the sweet torture he inflicted on him, aroused him direly and to a degree that made it hard not to give in and give the devil the relief he so urgently craved.

“Look at you, what a marvelous view you are …”

He wondered if he liked what he was forced to see in the mirror above him, the full extent of the shameful state he was in.

The cruel edge subsided and the devil was left stranded in sweltering need. Cian imagined his frustration, and how it was made worse by the fact of how good it would have felt, how explosive it could have been.

“Beg me for it, Raphael,” he said, the calmness of his tone a lie, but a convincing one. He would savor every confession, every helpless plea from his irresistible lips.

In the most casual of ways, he slipped two of his oily fingers in Raphael’s hole. He found his prostate with ease and massaged it with gentle, teasing circles.

Raphael looked at him, unable to hide the heavy, feverish desire and he felt him clench around him when the pressure built again. He got there terribly fast now and Cian had to slow down. “Ah, your sweet spot is quite sensitive after all the teasing, isn’t it? Does it feel nice to have it stroked? I might find myself of a mind to be more merciful if I hear you say it. What do you need? Tell me. Beg.”

“Please,” Raphael repeated, the hesitation making clear that the inner battle against his own pride still raged. His desperation, though, was gaining the upper hand: “Please grant me relief.” Cian stroked his prostate more firmly, encouraging his words, making him breathe harder and lose the tense stiffness he had been speaking with: “I need to come, keep touching me, hells, don’t stop … don’t … Nghhh.”

He pulled his hand free when he felt him getting closer to orgasm again. Precum oozed out of his cock with none of the pleasurable contractions or squirting he had begged for.

He chuckled. It was a dark, mocking sound. “Someone is quite the mess.” He met Raphael’s eyes in the mirror and his face showed the shame he had hoped for. “But you’ll have to learn to beg better than that to convince me. And I fear your ten minutes are over. You’ll just take what I give you now, without any relief at all – until I allow you another chance. If I allow you another chance.”

“You can’t be serious,” Raphael hissed.

Cian opened his pants. Unlike his devil, he was still fully dressed and didn’t truly plan to change the fact. Instead, he only freed his own eager cock from the restricting fabric, suppressed a relieved sound, and coated it in oil.

“Oh, you will find out that I can. And now be a good, obedient cambion and relax for me.”

Without further preparations, he brought himself into position and lined his length up with the slippery hole.

The ring of muscles easily gave way under the determined pressure. He was bigger than the plug had been but he wanted Raphael to feel the stretch. His little gasp and the tight grip of his ass around his cock showed him that he did.

It didn’t fail to overwhelm him when he pushed into the heat of his body and he let out a little sigh. Halfway in he held completely still for a moment to compose himself. The sensations radiated through his body and the intimacy of the act made his heart beat faster against his will. Throughout all of it, Raphael had not used his way out, had not rescinded their contract. Either he fiercely wanted to take revenge or he enjoyed it just as much as he did. – With a little luck both were true.

Nonetheless, Cian didn’t allow himself too much gentleness, not here and now. Raphael already tried to push himself upwards in raging arousal and to take his cock as deep as it would go. He placed his hands on his hips and held him in place while his tail moved back and forth with impatient turmoil.

Cian pulled out until only the tip of his cock remained inside the tempting heat, then pushed back in with vigor. They both moaned and he repeated the movement again and again – slowly building speed and a rhythm.

A gasp from the devil and the tight clenching of his insides told him when he found the right angle to rub his prostate with every well-aimed thrust.

Gradually, he increased his pace and fucked him with deep and hard vehemency, skillfully taking ownership of the devil’s body. He used his right hand to brace his position, his left found its way to his cock and enclosed it firmly, rubbing it without mercy as if to make him cum for him. Raphael’s muscles quivered with the sexual tension it created, nerve endings stimulated in all those hard-to-bear ways, no doubt: body and mind focused on the fullness inside of him, the utter control he had over him, the intense overstimulation of his most sensitive body parts and the imminent ecstasy of orgasmic release. Every time the cataclysmic sensations threatened to peak, the bounds of their contract stopped the relief he was seeking. He groaned under him, grunted, hips thrusting, tail swishing, cock jerking in his grip and helplessly dribbling over his hand.

He wasn’t able to stop himself, wasn’t able to hold still despite the agony – or because of it.

“You think I may change my mind?” Cian brought out, voice strained, “Fuck yourself on my cock. Show me how much you need it. Show me how you get off from my control over you, how you need me deep inside of you, how you yearn for me to possess you.”

Raphael was too far gone for an answer, delirious with lust, but met his movements with his own as hard as his restraints allowed, his moans pitching higher. Cian’s mind was filled with his voice, his heavy scent, the way he felt around his cock, and the magnificent view of his now so obedient body.

The silent, forced confession from his devil brought him close to his own release. Raphael’s burning eyes were no longer focused on his own predicament in the mirror, instead his infernal gaze locked with his, reaching for his soul in ways he should never allow with a creature as dangerous as this. But he was lost, he had been lost for a long time already, and willingly gave into it all, thrusting into him with relentless pleasure until his orgasm shot through him, erasing all his thoughts, and ripping his name from his throat.

“Raphael!”

The bliss that had overtaken him rushed through his every fiber and only subsided slowly. His thighs trembled with orgasmic aftershocks when he pulled out of him. His muscles felt heavy and he wanted to press against the heat of Raphael’s body for a while, kissing along his neck, breathing him, freeing him from his restraints and give him the relief he so urgently needed with his hands and mouth before finding himself enwrapped by his arms and wings. Ah, it was disgusting how soft he became after an orgasm.

Cian sorted out his clothes and closed his pants. Then he allowed himself to stroke a messy curl from Raphael’s damp forehead. “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen,” he muttered.

The room smelled of sex, their sweat and Raphael’s perfume that was so much more domineering than his own.

Gods, to imagine the frustration his devil had to be in, his balls aching, his hole sour, cock ignored in its helpless, throbbing need while he lay there sweaty, a pool of his own precum on his abdomen and his cum leaking out of his ass.

“You can’t mean to leave me here for three days.” Raphael sounded much tamer than he knew him.

“I won’t.”

After all, he had to obey his commands; it didn’t truly matter if he freed him.

“But for a while longer. I need a break. And a bath. Maybe I’ll allow you one too after my return. Try to become soft enough we can put on your cage again.”

To make the task harder for him, he pushed the toy back into his hole where it gently vibrated with his magic. “For your entertainment. Better hope Haarlep won’t find you while I’m gone. They might get ideas too.”

Raphael’s jaw clenched in anger and a hint of fear flashed in his eyes. While usually he preferred not to have the incubus around, the idea that they could come in and take advantage of this whole situation, brought a smirk to his lips. “You probably wouldn’t especially enjoy it to have them ride your cock while I’m not even around to maybe give you permission to cum,” he shared his thoughts with the distressed devil. His cock, though, twitched as if it were more interested in the idea than Raphael would ever admit.

Cian leaned in to place a chaste little kiss on his lips. Raphael didn’t try to escape his touch. “You know …,” he said, when he left the bed. “If you’d agree to continue this little game for ten years, I’d give you my soul.”

Raphael snorted. “You overestimate your value.”

Cian smirked. “Or maybe you are afraid that, after ten years of this, I would own yours.”

~ thank you so very much @dujour13 and @steampunkserpent for your amazing help and support! (@edisonstolemyheart I saw you wanted to be tagged if this story would happen.)

[onejellyfishplease]

I am all about constructive criticism. I mean, how am I supposed to get better at writing/drawing if people won't be honest with me and give me tips to get better. I personally think that people who can't take constructive criticism aren't very bright. How are they supposed to get better at things if they don't listen to others who are just trying to guide them?

Also, I would love some more tips on how to make the shell better. If you are willing, of course. :)

I am horrible at drawing. I usually have to trace things to get a decent drawing. (For instance, I traced like five different things to make Mikey a pony.)

I'm so much better at coloring than I am at drawing. My writing needs work, too, but I'm getting better.

First of all, can I just say that you shouldnt worry about tracing art to improve your own (as long as u aren't posting it as soley your own but thats a whole other rabbit hole) I did too! It helps build ground work for a good understanding of anatomy and poses.

However there are a few holes in tracing. Forst of all it is quite limiting in the outcome of your work, as your art is stuck static in one pose. this can alkost hinder your ability to see things in '3D' and visualise objects for multiple angles. it can also lead to 'skin wrapping' , which i think is the hole you fell into here (and also a term i just made up now)

with the shell, you only coloured it within Mikey's trace lines - this caused the shell to loose a lot of its mass - making it look, quite frankly, not like a shell.

a way to improve on this is to look at more references of Mikey's shell in the show and its shape from different angles. this can help you get a good idea of how it should look, and it is a good idea to practice drawing it from these angles. this will improve your ability to think in a 3D space, (which is so darn hard, but seriously useful)

however, and you may have noticed this yourself, when you add new additions to the figure, the line art just doesnt line up! the line quality is different!

This is because the line you have done for the addition is Your Line. And we love your line.

so lets make the rest of the traced lineart fit into your style, instead of you fitting yours into theirs okay?

You may notice that when you trace art, the line work is just not the same, the lines are shakier than the original and it just doesn't look as good. this is not a reflection of your skill.

It is because, usually, (at least when I did it) you follow the original line so closely that it turns out shaky, probably taking your pen off the page a few times to take a break from the oen stroke. while the original artist did that line in one sweeping stroke.

a way to fix this, and make the line arr cleaner and more you, is to instead use the drawing as a very close reference. for example:

instead of tracing the exact lines of the art, merely trace the general shapes of the art. not only then do you add your own flair and gesture to the drawing, you are then more free to add more shapes to this sketch.

You can still use the reference drawing as closly as you want, but try to focus less on getting the exact lines copied, and more on the general shape. you linework wont be perfect the first time, it might be really messy compared to your usual tracing, and thats fine! you should see some of my sketches before i refine them!

But these will be your lines, theyll be smoother and more gestural, and overtime you will get better control over your penstrokes doing this.

Okay I cant really think of anymore to add here, I hope this helps! i think this was just one big word vomit lol. Keep drawing!! cause no matter what you do, as long as you are actively drawing you are always improving! dont be afraid to push yourself out of you comfort zone! who cares if it doesnt turn out the way you wanted it to? Its your art, You Created That with your Own Hands, and I think that is amazing.

<3

[masterskywalkers]

So I'm reading that new Larian interview for BG3, which has really popped up at a great time for me research-wise, and I see this for Ascended Astarion:

"So with Astarion, his evil ending is actually him…much of what he does is out of fear. And as a player, you can say to him, "You're right to be afraid." And that sends him to a really horrible place, and that I think is really powerful."

Now I've been doing a lot of research into vampires and vampire spawn in literature & D&D mechanics lately - partly for fic ideas, partly because this fandom frustrates me to no end sometimes with some of the things I read and I kind of want to do a breakdown on my own view and interpretation on the character - and this quote is very much something I agree with.

From Act 1 Astarion acts mainly upon fear and survival. He is not a good person, and he will do anything to survive. He literally uses any weapons or tools he has to build a net of safety within the group or with Tav, regardless of whether his methods are healthy for him or not. He knows no other way, because for the past two hundred years at least, he has known nothing but cruelty.

Even as you move further and further into the game, Astarion doesn't stop being afraid. As a Bhaalspawn who romances him but fails to kill Isobel, Sceleritas will comment that 'he is so afraid, so very afraid of everything, but you. The one thing he should fear the most'. In Act 3 after the other spawn attack the party, if a romanced Tav argues with him about the Ascension ritual, there's a response where Astarion will say 'I'm doing this for both of us, you know? To keep us both safe'.

Astarion is fueled by fear, and he believes that power is a way to ensure he won't ever have to fear anything again. That he won't have to be weak anymore (he sees himself as weak, ignoring the utter strength he has to even be able to survive the amount of torture and abuse he's lived through for so many years). During the decision of whether to allow him to Ascend or not, it takes an intervention from the person he trusts the most to even attempt to talk him down - and even that option is a journey of dice rolls and making the correct choices.

Astarion follows in the footsteps of the playstyle and the behaviors of the player character. He values his freedom and independence, but he doesn't know how to live without fear because, as far as he remembers, fear has been his entire existence. Even if you don't let him ascend, when you ask him how he feels about freedom he says it's both terrifying and exhilarating - it's a new kind of fear for him, the fear of a vast future open for him, one that isn't ruled beneath the hand of someone who controlled him.

In either ending - bad or good - Astarion gains and loses something. In a good ending, he gains freedom and the chance to start anew - to a limit, as he looses the ability to walk in the sun. In a bad ending, he gains security, safety and power - but loses himself in the process:

"Whether or not a vampire retains any memories from its former life, its emotional attachments wither as once-pure feelings become twisted by undeath. Love turns into hungry obsession, while friendship becomes bitter jealousy. In place of emotion, vampires pursue physical symbols of what they crave, so that a vampire seeking love might fixate on a young beauty. A child might become an object of fascination for a vampire obsessed with youth and potential. Others surround themselves with art, books, or sinister items such as torture devices or trophies from creatures they have killed." - Players Handbook, 5e

^ This is something that really interests me, because how much of that extends to the Vampire Ascendent is up to the player. I have my own thoughts for what this means for a romanced Astarion - and maybe I'll write something about that at some point, or post my thoughts in more detail later if anyone is interested - but the fact that the Vampire Ascendent is different from a normal vampire due to it being born from a deal made with a devil, I think, gives enough creative leeway for writers and players to play around with how they interpret to fit with their own playstyle.

Astarion, throughout the game, is at the very beginning of a long journey of being a survivor of abuse and trauma. I don't think he's really able to process or work on recovery until Cazador is dead - he is the looming threat for Astarion, after all, the shadow that is always there. Because even if they defeat the Netherbrain but don't defeat Cazador, Astarion is still at huge risk of becoming his toy again - but how he chooses to work through that and learn to handle his fear, depends on the person he becomes throughout the journey. And the player character is a huge influence to this - for better or for worse.

[je-dood]

Can machines be considered Lovecraftian monsters?

The short answer is yes.

However, the long answer has been a chain of thoughts that have bothered me for the past hour and a half, in which I've had to somehow stumble my way across debates about moral philosophy, questions of the unknown, and trying and quantify the limitation of human understanding.

This all started when I was listening to a recommended Lovecraftian Inspire podcast, Rolling with Rainbows, and a small, brief discussion was had about whether mortals like them could even begin to discuss the ongoing mind of the eldrich. This caused me to pause and question myself. If Lovecraftian beings were so alien to the human mind, how could we potentially even write from the perspective of one without it feeling diluted and disingenuous? I tried asking the philosophers of my own personal round table aka my friends; however, it was clear that today wasn't the day for intellectual discussion for Lovecraftian pursuit, so I was off to my own devices. During that time I had been recommended to potentially find others who may have been interested in such a subject, as discord severs around Lovecraftian discussion do exist. However,  after joining, I felt immediately intimidated to push any further, so as all great philosophers do, I casted myself out of society for 10 to 15 minutes to rant to myself.

Firstly, the reason why I chose the topic of a machine is because they are preexisting objects that, at the time of writing this, I could still empirically justify weren't figments of my own imagination. Secondly, machines within my mind fit the category of holding an alien form of "thinking," so I can use them as the same basis for my questioning of eldritch minds.

Now to tackle the main question at hand, I believe it is imperative to understand what we mean by Lovecraftian monsters, as some definitions already leave this question to become redundant at a first glance. Wikipedia states, "Lovecraftian horror, also called cosmic horror or eldritch horror, is a subgenre of horror fiction and weird fiction that emphasises the horror of the unknowable and incomprehensible more than gore or other elements of shock." This definition is quite tricky at first glance, as one may be able to focus on the aspect of cosmic horror, and one could state that due to machines being located and crafted on Earth, there is hardly anything cosmic or wholly other about that. However, this is where I would have to push an interjection and state that truly, in the grand scheme of things, everything that we have come to know at some point has in some way, shape or form, derived from some sort of cosmic interference or origins, whether it be the metal that forms from the bowels of celestial bodies or the eventual creation of the earth, which led to the existence of humanity. One could argue if they were to get really abstract with it, that all dimensions of machines hold some sort of cosmic nature about them, and they can pass this cosmic check in the definition.

Although one could pull things to a stop here and conclude that overall machines fit the definition of Lovecraftian horror and therefore could be considered Lovecraftian monsters, I believe this is not enough overall to come to a satisfactory conclusion as, in my mind, there is still potential for a banana berry situation. The idea is that although something technically fulfils the qualifications to be something, it just personally feels ontologically distinct, and in this identification, I wanted to figure out whether machines were to exhibit the same abilities or mannerisms as preexisting Lovecraftian monsters. This is named how I believe that although bananas may be berry, I just don't vibe with it.

Morality-wise Lovecraftian beings tend to lean themselves a little more on the hedonistic side of things, mostly. This can be mainly seen within their carefree attitude in slaughtering the masses and quite frankly doing whatever they want, and although one could argue this may present them as being evil, I would argue they are simply acting as any rational being would in such a situation, for if one were to be unborn as a creature so vast and great the scholars would fail to find conjures appropriate adjective to describe your presence, and you were to grow up in a world that lacks any guidance or social moral consequence, it would only make sense that one such as these beings would act out of an almost infantile alien hedonistic desire. However, this understanding of the mind of the unknown does bring problems about machines, as, as far as we can tell, machines lack any actual desire to want in the first place, as they are simply constructed to fulfil the task. However, I would like to bring this chain of ideas to less focus on the existence of desire and more on the idea of an alien existence. As beings of desire, we would like to believe other sentient beings would have the desire; however, in the face of a truly unknown existence, going forward with such presumptions is simply wishful thinking in an attempt to rationalise the unknown. So even if machines were to lack this core mechanic of holding desires like people, I argue that one could say this makes them MORE Lovecraftian in nature as it solidifies their alien nature in comparison to human life, therefore meaning both Lovecraftian beings and machines both share the property of holding an alien philosophical system in compression to human beings.

However, in retrospect to abilities, this is quite a finicky topic, as although there are some relational qualities about Lovecraftian when it comes to philosophical attitudes, most of this comes completely out of the window when it comes to scaling feats and traits. On the one hand, you could have reality-eating beings such as Azathoth, which need to be subdued to let existence keep doing its things; on the other hand, you can also have immortal beings such as the deep ones being outsmarted and outrun by seemingly ordinary guy at the time. Although most, if not all, Lovecraftian beings hold some impressive and additionally alien concepts to them, which overall separates them from your average person, as they might as well be as diverse as a microwave to a refrigerator…

under the guise of a poor attempt at comedy, in which reading over is making me regret attempting it in the first place. On my part, to make things seem as if I was about to end this while ranting on a low point, this is my final point. Like a microwave to a refrigerator, and Azathoth and the deep ones, [ a wild comparison now that I look at it] both Lovecraftian creatures and machinery share the property of holding a diverse powerset in which most, if not all, demonstrate feats that are simply too great for humans to replicate. This idea of being diverse yet unique and inhuman is what solidifies machines as being considered Lovecraftian creatures.

So the long answer to all of this is yes, machines are Lovecraftian monsters, and additionally, you should probably treat your Alexa with more care, as they are quite literally gods beyond your wildest comprehension.

[constellieos]

HEYYYY HIIIIII ( WAVING MY HANDS WILDLY!! ) SNIFFS U!!! i’m so excited to introduce mimi!!!!!!1!1!1!1!1!!11! alias is sol btw!! ( she/they + 21 + est ) ngl i had her intro done for like 3 days cuz i was so excited but shhh don’t talk about it…. anyway!!!!! anything u need to know abt her is condensed below the cut, as well as her links!!!! they are also on my pinned tho……. pls like this to plot and i will reach out!!! i am kinda busy with work until monday ( gun to my head ) so i will be a little slow but PLSPSLSPLSLS I WANNA PLOT SO BADDDD PLSSS PICK ME CHOOSE ME

also, if you see me posting a self-para in a few hours dont worry abt it… i’m jst feeling silly n goofy.

backstory .ᐟ ( tw: mentions of anxiety disorder, familial death )

minji, who 100% prefers the name mimi, is an.. interesting one! she first developed her ability when she was 7 years old. her parents do not have any abilities, and her ability is a direct descent of her grandmother, who was a famous scientist who did research on clones, and used her own ability to test the limits.

she was always a nervous child, but it only got worse after the death of her grandmother, who she was extremely close with. it happened when she was 6 years old, which is also when thoughts of her having an anxiety disorder manifested as rumours within her family. however, she was a bit too young to get diagnosed.

once her ability manifested, she felt herself spiralling with issues of identity, along with trying to figure out herself and what she wanted to do — who she wanted to be. besides her identity crisis she had ( & still has ) once a day, she’s a pretty happy and go-lucky person.

she grew up extremely interested in journalism, and with the help of her other abilities ( & annoying clones she could never control ), it was easy to find things out about people, and also discover her talent for reporting and writing. she was quick to join her school’s newspaper, and became the top columnist every year.

it’s pretty hard to control her abilities. her minor abilities manifested at different times: her first one at 10, and her second one at 16.

she was diagnosed with anxiety at 10 with the discovery of her 1st minor ability, and later diagnosed with adhd, which is a primary reason for her constantly being scattered and all over the place.

she found school to be appropriately challenging. she was always the academic weapon — the one everyone went to for tutoring or to ask for answers, and the one who was destined for greatness. a christiane amanpour. a journalist to bring change and report on the world and what was really going on. graduating a year early also helped with her thoughts of a successful future.

and then… she got accepted to harvard. it had been a rash decision — a slightly manic episode where she applied to the international school where she believed she would never get in. but she did, with a full-ride. and soon enough, she was a harvard student. and honestly, her time at harvard had been the best time of her life. she had graduated rather highly in her class, and was able to receive an entire master’s degree in only a year after receiving her bachelor’s degree — which leads her to now.

recently moved back to korea, she believed that finding a job would be pretty easy. she was a graduate of harvard with a master’s degree, and had a few notable internships under her belt. but what she hadn’t realised is that… becoming a reporter wasn’t easy when all anyone ever cared about was the aeternals.

if she wasn’t writing about the latest gossip about the aeternals, her columns got little-to-no attention. she wants to write something big, something that matters — not the egotistical heroes their society glorifies. but… no one else wants to read about that. so, with her degree somewhat thrown down the drain, she stays at silver line, hoping for her big break.

she took a waitressing job at hi-dine in order to help pay for her bills, and put out numerous ads for a roommate. she tries her best to keep her cloning a secret, as it is more of a nuisance than a beloved ability.

personality .ᐟ ( read her DOSSIER here .ᐟ )

heavily inspired by rory gilmore, saiki-k, twilight sparkle, christofferson fox, hot to go.

her favourite color is light pink & sage green. her favourite flowers are tulips. her favourite food is bingsu & any other sweet foods. her favourite drink is lemon water, or any other drinks with fruits in them. her favourite alcohol is blueberry wine. her favourite animals are foxes. her favourite song is hot to go by chappell roan. her favourite movie is the chronicles of narnia & coraline.

she is an ambivert at heart, but identifies more with her extroverted side. she is always happy to meet new people, but gets awkward once she hears their thoughts. she is kind to a fault, and sees the best in people. however, she is quick to drop those she feels have wronged her within reason. she may give second chances, but she won’t give a third one.

she is easily stressed, especially with her anxiety disorder, which causes her clones to appear, and she doesn’t really like them. they act more like sisters than clones, and will bother her or help her depending on their mood.

she is also very absent-minded at times and clumsy. she’s very expressive with her emotions and her face, and is always running around somewhere. she is typically a little late to things… but always tries her best to be on time! she gets lost easily as well, and can sometimes spoil things without even thinking of them ( think of tom holland always spoiling spiderman or marvel secrets ).

has an irrational fear of heights & bugs. they are her #1 opps.

abilities .ᐟ ( read the full description of her ABILITIES here .ᐟ )

this is a simple tl;dr of her powers as i have a page of a detailed explanation of her abilities. however, this will have enough information for you to be able to grasp them!

major ability — cloning: she can clone herself, pretty much! her clones are separate from her and have their own thoughts, feelings, and emotions. they are a bit like super detailed holograms, and usually can stay at most for 2-5 hours. she cannot control this, however, and is typically only able to manifest them when she’s stressed out.

minor ability #1 — supernatural precognition: basically, the ability to see the future. however, she can see anyone’s future within a 200-meter radius of her and can not know if it’s hers or someone else’s future unless they are shown in the vision she sees. she can also only see their future until the end of the day.

minor ability #2 — telepathy: she can hear other people’s thoughts, and in theory, speak to people with her mind. however, she has never been able to do that before. anyone within a 200-meter radius of her can hear her thoughts, and she can hear theirs. comes in handy for her job!

connections & plots .ᐟ

there’s a BUNCH of plot ideas floating in this big head of mine, and i am always down to plot something from scratch, but this is what i’m thinking of:

connections wise: best friends who grew apart ( mainly due to mimi moving for college ), neighbours who always forget her name, found family relationships, ex-best friends who hate each other, friendly rivalry, coworkers @ the herald she works with or rival reporters that don’t get along, hi-dine staff who also hate their jobs, ex-aeternal or almost aeternal who wants their spotlight but she would rather die than talk to them, regulars at hi-dine she loves & hates, etc!!

plot ideas just for fun && will be added to or changed when i can remember to do so:

mimi learns a really interesting secret about you and you’re trying to do everything in your power to keep her from writing about it.

but also, mimi learns a really devastating secret about you and is trying to keep it from you that she knows about it!!

it’s late and you come into hi-dine as the only customer and keep bothering her to chat but she needs the extra tips and plays therapist.

she has to interview you for her column and is really not looking forward to it bc she thinks you’re insufferable but you’re actually not as bad as she thought.

you have a bad experience with an aeternal and are trying to expose them with mimi’s help.

there’s workplace drama and you and mimi spend an entire manic, sleepless night trying to get down to the bottom of it.

instead of taking blockers for an important event, mimi accidentally takes a kicker without realising and can’t stop mass producing clones which makes her inconsolable and allows you to find her.

her clone gets out without her knowledge for a few hours and goes out with you, and you see mimi a few days after asking for another date. but she has absolutely no clue who you are.

mimi sees your future one day and is convinced something terrible is going to happen to you today, but she’s had the same vision for 2 months and is tired of it and decides to confront you for being so careless!!

a random child is dropped off at mimi’s door and she’s ready to become a mother until you ask her to return your niece/nephew to you.

mimi’s roommate is gone for the night and there’s a huge bug in her house she can’t get rid of and ends up practically tackling your muse to help.

⠀ ⠀ ALL LINKS: dossier ╱ abilities ╱ spotify ╱ pinterest

[stardust-in-my-mind-blog]

Sometimes it be like this.

My heart and brain want to work together.

My soul and mind still have a few values they are negotiating.

And I'm just standing here, holding the scales, waiting for them to balance.

Impatiently, I may add.

Fearfully, sometimes.

My mind has its intelligence and knowledge that I've painstakingly acquired and organized into different skills and crafts.

My heart has one of those burning souls that have all the wings and eyes and a thousand different creatures all spiraling within it.

My eyes have enough tears to flood the world, and they have tried.

My arms have the ability to both swim and fly.

My feet are beginning to learn how to dance and step without my mind setting limits others gave to it.

My hands are learning how to touch without fearing themselves weapons of destruction. They are weapons of destruction, but it is I who master the controls. These palms will never strike another thoughtlessly. These fists will never stop curling into themselves when my anger begs for control.

My fingertips will consensually explore whatever they desire.

My body is my own to control.

No matter what regulations others try to set.

I choose my own compliance.

I choose my own submission.

I choose my preferences and my comfort.

I choose to step out of them whenever I want.

I choose to let you understand me.

I choose to understand you with the information you give to me.

And you give me so much information.

I catch all of it.

I collect your movements, your words, and what things or feelings put the emotion into your expression.

I know what makes your eyes flash.

I know what makes them flood.

I know how to get them to focus on what I want.

I am at this time in my life where I now have to make decisions.

Everything is in pieces.

I am staring at the pile of it.

My life feels like it is just in piles around my room.

I have razed my beloved garden into ashes.

Everything that I am.

Everything I was.

Everything that made me.

Everything that destroyed me.

Everything I tried to build.

Everything I successfully destroyed.

Everything I'm willing to take back.

Everything I will never forgive.

Everything I will allow to follow me.

Everything I will leave in the ashes.

Everything I will step away from.

I have to begin considering my choices.

For the first time in my life, I am going to wholly and consciously contemplate my true wishes, desires, dreams, ideals, values, and relationships.

I am going to make lists.

I am going to compile evidence.

My own internal scarlet crusade is here in full banner and calvary.

Who do you think burned the garden down?

I didn't call them.

I never knew how to knowingly summon forces outside myself.

Fuck, I can't even ask for help in this life from people I trust when I so desperately need it.

(But I'm learning. I'm learning. I'm learning and making it part of whatever integrated self I have at the end of this.)

But this image.

This art.

This picture that someone conjured by the tools they had skill with...

This picture says everything to me that I needed to put into words.

The words found me and ran like sugar in my bloodstream to my mind who then told my fingers to find the keys and surrender all of my to my heart.

It's my heart who writes.

My hands are only her wings.

And my soul is the one who whispers in song to her all the beauty she inspires to make him burn.

She melts into him.

And my mind gives them whatever they need.

We're all learning how to work together.

If you measure time without season and cycle, how can you truly learn the lessons nature is here to teach us?

Nature worships Balance.

And so will I.

Artist Of Image -Giulia Grillo

[infinites-chaser]

pls... I've finally found it. The only AI writing op-ed worth reading:

AI embodies hypotheticals I can just imagine for myself: If only I could write all day and night. If only I were smarter and more talented. If only I had endless knowledge. If only I could read whole libraries. What could I create if I had no needs? What might this development mean for writing?

Considering limitlessness has led me to believe that the impediments of human writers are what lead us to create meaningful art. And they are various: limits of our body, limits of our perspectives, limits of our skills. But the constraints of an artist’s process are, in the language of software, a feature, not a bug.

Writing is a blood-and-guts business, literally as well as figuratively. As I type with my hands, my lungs oxygenate the blood that my heart pumps; my brain sends and receives signals. Each of these functions results in the words on this page.

...

In reducing my entire self to my cognition alone, akin to a computer, I’d forgotten the truth that I am inseparable from my imperfect body, with its afflictions and ailments. My books emerge from this body.

...

Compared with AI, we might seem like pitiful creatures. Our lives will end; our memory is faulty; we can’t absorb 191,000 books; our frames of reference are circumscribed. One day, I will die. I foreclose on certain opportunities by pursuing others. Typing this now means I cannot fold my laundry or have lunch with a friend. Yet I believe writing is worth doing, and this sacrifice of time makes it consequential. When we write, we are picking and choosing—consciously or otherwise—what is most substantial to us. Behind human writing is a human being calling for attention and saying, Here is what is important to me. I’m able to move through only my one life, from my narrow point of view; this outlook creates and yet constrains my work. Good writing is born of mortality: the limits of our body and perspectives—the limits of our very lives.

I can imagine a future in which ChatGPT works more convincingly than it does now. Would I exchange the hours that I spent working on each of my two books for finished documents spat out by ChatGPT? That would have saved me years of attempts and failures. But all of that frustration, difficult as it was in the moment, changed me. It wasn’t a job I clocked in and out of, contained within a tidy sum of hours. I carried the story with me while I showered, drove—even dreamed. My mind was changed by the writing, and the writing changed by my mind.

Working on a novel, I strain against my limits as a bounded, single body by imagining characters outside of myself. I test the limits of my skill when I wonder, Can I pull this off? And though it feels grandiose to say, writing is an attempt to use my short supply of hours to create a work that outlasts me. These exertions in the face of my constraints strike me as moving, and worthy, and beautiful.

Writing itself is a technology, and it will shift with the introduction of new tools, as it always has. I’m not worried that AI novelists will replace human novelists. But I am afraid that we’ll lose sight of what makes human writing worthwhile: its efforts, its inquiries, its bids for connection—all bounded and shaped by its imperfections—and its attempts to say, This is what it’s like for me. Is it like this for you? If we forget what makes our human work valuable, we might forget what makes our human lives valuable too. Novels are one of the best means we have for really seeing one another, because behind each effort is a mortal person, expressing and transmuting their realities to the best of their ability. Reading and writing are vital means by which we bridge our separate consciousnesses. In understanding these limits, we can understand one another’s lives. At least, we can try.

[elder-sister]

Ness!

So first off I will describe the two series.

First is the longer one, Smash Brothers: Chronicles. A few seasons to each game, this follows a combat tournament in a realm where time doesn't pass. In this, characters powers are limited or enhanced (their only powers are their moveset, though passive abilities like Telepathy are still there)

The winner gets a wish with the Smash Ball, and an evil force (revealed to be Crazy Hand), wants the Smash ball, and hires whatever fighting team that game has to get it.

With that out of the way, as one of the original 12 members, Ness appears in all seasons. He's very much the "everyone's little brother" character. Upbeat and cheery but also very emotional. He also at one point pulls a self sacrifice move. He's only really important in the first season, but he grows close to everyone, especially Pikachu, who sees him as it's own trainer.

The other series is The Adventures of the original 12. Taking place during Ultimate, everyone here has canon abilities, and characters from their world can enter smash at will. While a Tournament is happening, it's more a background thing. While Subspace doesn't happen in Chronicles, it happened here.

The Original 12 are tasked by Master Hand to act as guardians of the Smash Realm. But there are many villains.

Once again, most of the 12 see Ness as a sibling figure. The exception is Mario. Those two develop an almost father son dynamic. Personality is the same, but powers differ. And since his powers are psychic, they are determined by emotions. And he isn't on earth so no power from that, so at the start, it comes from his friends. He's the group's healer. He's also close with Lucina, male Robin, Pit, Toon Link, Young Link and of course his friends from his realm.

At the end of the season, things get interesting, and while I'd love to describe what happens, this is about Ness' character. But basically, after being beaten to pulp, and his friends almost dying, in a last ditch effort to protect his friends, he draws powers from within himself. This results in unleashing an attack that no one can grasp and it destroys the mountains nearby. He also visibly morphs into a giegue like creature as red energy surrounds him as it looks like it's hurting him, so Jeff knocks him out.

This is where the "descendant of Gigyas" thing comes into play. The later seasons have him needing to now control this power. When tapping into it, he does start to morph, but the red energy only appears when losing control.

I wish I could write these but they each have like 50 seasons in my head already haha

Lmao he is pretty similar to my Ness. (minus the possession of course)

Sounds interesting!

[sushis-wild-imagination]

Say Yes

Seungkwan x Reader

PS: Listen to Say Yes by Seventeen before you read this. Look up the lyrics if you are unfamiliar with the translation.

I am in love with Seungkwan, absolutely delulu.

Seventeen Masterlist <3

Lets pretend Seungkwan is a 21 y/o trainee, writing about actual trainee baby Seungkwan is creepy af, they were kids. Y/n is two years younger so 19. This has been sitting in my drafts for so long. its definitely incomplete, pt 2?

"I'm nervous" you say to no one in particular, your 4 other members looked just as nervous. You had just debuted 7 months ago and you were headed to your first award show.

You and your team 'DR3AM', gets out of the van to your first red carpet. There were so many camera's flashing, so many cameras it was all very new to you.

You were so worried about tripping on the red carpet or doing something embarrassing. You look around and you were so fascinated, you and your group ended up going full out on the dresses and you were wearing a long floor sweeping dress like the rest of your team.

You stand in front of the cameras, waving and throwing peace signs exactly how you were taught to. You go to move away for the next group to come in and go to exit the red carpet and you feel a tug like your dress is stuck on something. You turn around to see what it was, rather, who it was.

Your heart stops.

Boo Seungkwan.

-- flashback--

"What are you doing here?" someone calls out putting their hand on your head that was buried in your knees.

You look up with a runny nose and puffy eyes.

Seungkwan.

You were a trainee at Pledis with the same dreams as your fellow trainees to debut. The girl group and the boy group trainees trained together in the beginning for quite some time, almost a year.

Seungkwan was your best friend. You fought over food this one time in the practice room and that fight somehow made you become fast friends. You developed a little crush on him over the time, it was possible it was because there was very limited access to boys for you. You also went to the same school but you were 2 years younger to him so he graduated before you.

He was also your unofficial vocal coach. He helped you better your vocal abilities a lot. He would tell you about how to tone your voice for evaluations, point out what is better for evaluation. It has been a stress buster for you to sing with him. Maybe all these love song duets with him really made you fall in love with him. You admired him a lot.

You also knew you dating within the trainees was not allowed. That snapped you back into reality.

"Are you crying?"

You wipe your face. You were so tired of practice. You had an evaluation today and you messed up big time. It cost you being in a group that was going to debut in 6 months. It felt like it was going further and further. You felt like a failure.

He got down on your level and patted your head. "I messed up, what if I can't debut? What if I'm not good enough to?"

"These things happen" he says as he continues to pet your head like a puppy. He gets very awkward when people cry in front of him.

"Maybe it's not your time, maybe you're meant for bigger things, dreams are all about timing" he preaches with his arms around your shoulder walking to the snack bar close to the practice room. You nod in agreement. Your anxiety had calmed down and you felt better after crying it out. A few months ago this scene was completely reversed when Seungkwan was considering running away and back home because of all the pressure and was crying at your shoulder. He had always been sentimental that way.

You were now happily eating away at the fish cakes. Your favourite.

“There was something I had to tell you” you start suddenly feeling a little bold. It was eating you alive that you couldn’t take to seungkwan about it. You liked him way too much, your mind was constantly clouded and distracted and you felt like getting it out of your system was the best way to get it out of your head. Even though you know it means nothing because you can’t act on it. Its easier to get rejected now.

You look up to see his eyes were looking somewhere else. He suddenly takes your hand and starts running towards the dorms.

“What?” You ask while following him.

Pledis had caught wind that trainees have been hanging around after practice so they go some staff to patrol around the snackbars so they can keep an eye out on the trainees. Luckily the staff hadn’t seen you and Seungkwan whisked you away in time.

Both of you stopped after covering a distance, it was a little dark, almost 10pm. You were catching your breath with your hands on your knees.

After you catch your breath you hear him say

“What is it?”

“Huh?”

“The thing you wanted to tell me”

“Ah right, its..” you suddenly become shy and second guess if you should come clean or not.

You were suddenly getting pulled into his chest for the second time this evening, you were in the way of a car passing and he did that so you don't get hit by the car.

But being in his arms like that made you very bold for some reason, you won’t get another chance like this, you tell yourself and shut you eyes tight out of embarrassment that was coming.

“I like you Boo Seungkwan”

“What?” His grip on you did not loosen.

“It’s making me very uncomfortable to keep confessing, Seungkwan, I like you like I wanna kiss you I like you”

Maybe not the best choice of words but it gets the job done. Your eyes were still closed when you feel a soft pair of lips on yours. You froze opening your eyes.

You couldn’t wrap your head around this. Was this acceptance, does this mean you’re now dating? But its banned by contract. Seungkwan is literally debuting in 7 months. You’ll barely get to see him even if you do end up dating. What did all this mean?

“I’ve been wanting to do that for the longest time” he breathes out pulling away. You had the biggest smile on your face. Like you had forgotten about the evaluation and the shitty day you had.

Whatever situationship you had going on for the next week, only lasted for a few weeks. His group got a reality show to showcase their road to debut and he got completely wrapped up in that. You got wrapped up in your practice and evaluations. You realised your career was so much more important. You lost touch once he debuted.

-----

You both freeze looking at each other.

"Y/n"

"Seungkwan"

"I'm sorry" he says pointing to your dress under his shoe and even gets on his knees to fix it for you. It was like a scene from a movie.

"Its alright- its alright" you say while trying to stop him from doing so. He was a senior in the industry, you had to be very mindful of that regardless of whatever history you've had personally.

You find Dokyeom snickering about Seungkwan stepping on your dress and playfully smacks his back. You give him a soft smile before leaving the red carpet.

The next 2 hours your mind was clouded with thoughts of your first love, something you could never act on, never have, for the both of you.

You missed him. You didn't realise you missed him so much because you never saw him. You finally saw him in front of you after years and it made you shift awkwardly and also made you emotional. He really was a pillar of support for you when you were a trainee.

Now 'Seungkwan sunbaenim' felt like a distance was put between the two of you.

Your team member realises something is off and nudges you, you kept zoning out. You nod to her concern. You try not to steal glances at Seungkwan.

You had become so nostalgic and regretful. He was your first love, one you could never have because the weight of your dreams are much larger than your desire to find love. You both realise its wasn’t the time to chase love but now it feels like missed opportunities. You're mind wandered all the "what ifs"

You bumped into someone on the way back from the washroom in the middle of the show so there was no one around, it was an empty hallway and god he looked so handsome. Gosh, You've missed him so much.

There were so many things you wanted to tell him. There were so many things he wanted to tell you, unaware.

"I've missed you too" he replies and you were confused that he could respond to a thought in your head. He couldn't, you had said it out loud without realising. You awkwardly shift in your place.

"How have you been?"

"I'm doing okay" you nod a little agreeing to your own statement.

"That's... that's good" you hear him exhale.

It was never this awkward between the two of you so it felt so unfamiliar, you just lost touch, completely.

"We should get a meal sometime, I'll buy" he says.

"Oh look at you all big shot Boo Seungkwan of Seventeen" you tease and it feels a little more comfortable.

There was silence again.

You hear your manager call you from afar.

"Um, I have to go, it was nice seeing you again" you try to smile. This conversation has to be the toughest you've had with him. You felt a little sad about not seeing him again until it's another award show.

Right when you go to turn, you felt his hand on your wrist that stopped you.

"Wait" he dug his blazer pockets to pull out his phone.

"Quickly, give me your number" he looks around to check if anyone has eyes on the both of you.

It's like your eyes started sparkling at the thought of being able to be friends with him again. You take the phone from his hand and quickly and feed your number in.

You finally smile at him, the realest smile you've given him throughout this conversation. The only part that made you happy was he reciprocated a genuine smile. You could feel your heart melt. You've missed him, so, so much. One year of holding on to him or your idea of him in your head that kept giving you the strength to not give up on your dream.

You were back to your dorm looking at pictures from tonight on social media. You were swiping and scrolling. You laugh at the meme face one of your members made when the big screen camera unexpected moved to them. You scroll some more.

You stop.

It was a picture of Seungkwan fixing your dress for you on his knees at the red carpet. You blush at the picture. It was the cutest picture you had seen all day. You see the comments under it. You immediately take a screenshot, smiling giddily like a teenager again.

‘This looks like a fairytale’

You giggle at the comments. It really looked like a scene out of a movie.

Your phone buzzes and it was a message from an unknown number. You open it feeling a little anxious, it could be anything, you pray that your number hadn't leaked.

'Hi, it's Seungkwan'