#these are just some thoughts that have rotated

[tiyoin]

just frat boy jade thoughts

not proofread or edited, we die on this hill

frat boy jade who would rather run the bar then be out on the dance floor like his brother. there’s a sense… power jade gets deciding who gets alcohol and who gets watered down fruit juice.

frat boy jade who has a ‘celebrity’ each night who he monitors. maybe it’s a girl with a skimpy outfit and botched features. maybe it’s a desperate brother who’s scanning the dark basement for a hookup. it could be an entire friend or just 1 member of the group. it could be multiple people at once or no one at all…. jade did not discriminate.

even on door duties jade would mentally file away who stepped in, and when rotated to bar duty there was a little game he liked to play where he’d recite any piece of information he had on them…

but never before has jade made a move on a target. never before had he kept the same target for more than a couple nights.

floyd had invited himself and a few basketball team members to this party… and there you were, tucked under the wings of protection of your two best friends, deuce and ace. ace was a more than familiar face and deuce was the occasional guest star at the frat.

but you? once, if not twice did you enter jade’s domain. out of all your little friends you were the most elusive, a forbidden fruit jade must savior.

not once had you come by the bar. floyd and the guys have, including ace. yet you and deuce have yet to pay him a visit. it was beach theme tonight, and jade wouldn’t mind a closer look at the bikini top you wore and the tropical skirt you had on.. a pair of biker shorts ruines the picture that is you, but jade gives a nod in approval at the choice after all, there are perverts out there and one must take every precaution against them, especially a cute girl as yourself.

an hour in, jade’s forgotten about you and your company, busy bar tending the other party goers. it’s only when floyd, drunk off his ass, saunters over, lip stick stains running down his neck and chest and… lower.

“isn’t shrimpy s’nice jade” he drawls drunkenly “pull’s out fireball shooters left and right- like a magician!” jade rolls his eyes as he goes to give floyd his usual as it took them longer to get drunk. floyd smiled intimidatingly at a shirtless guy who was starting to push him to get a drink “what’s the rush buddy?” jade has shove floyd his drink to spare the fight. “ah ah, shrimpy’s run’n low so she’s gonna need some of your juice” floyd’s eyes flash from behind his rose colored glasses as he takes a sip.

jade, bent over and eye level with the red kisses on his brothers lower stomach before his eyes flick over to you. like an angel under ethereal lighting you’re dancing with deuce and ace. jamil close by as he notes the somali markings on the three men…

“floyd..” “jade” “what’s with the…” floyd’s eyes widen as he follows his brothers gaze onto his stomach “oh!” his face lights up mischievously “shrimpy was… very happy with our recent win and wanted to congratulate us” taking the now full cup from his brother, floyd looks him up and down, jades own tropical shirt closed conservatively, “won’t catch a shrimp look’n like that” he said before leaving.

watching his brother lift the two drinks up as he navigated his way back to the back of the basement as bodies danced and jumped to the beat. strobing colored lights and the smell of sweat and alcohol seemed to slow down as jaded watched his brother take one of the red solo cups into his other hand, now holding both of them with his fingers as he tucked a flap of his shirt into his pants. and with a sly look to his brother, he reached you bending down to whisper as he handed you the juice. your tiny hands appeared on his bare shoulder as he saw a peak of your face, emotions running free on your face as you listened to the annoying eel. your eyes roamed the room as you-

fuck.

turning towards the next party goer, jade bends down quickly, pours a beer into a cup and slams it on the bar top.

he needs a break.

[hotgirlbedtimescenarios]

Wish

For the first time in years Joel acknowledges his birthday and wishes on a star. He gets pulled into the past and relives his birthday, the day that changed everything.

Words: 1.7k+

Warnings: all of the emotions. Sadness, depression, but also happy moments and hopefulness :)

*part of @burntheedges roll-a-trope challenge*

Main Masterlist

---

September 25, 2033

It’s almost Joel’s birthday. Again.

Over the years, he’d let it pass without thinking about it. Losing track of the days was easy while he roamed, too caught up in trying to survive.

But now, in Jackson, time isn’t as elusive. Joel wakes up knowing that Mondays and Tuesdays are for patrolling, Wednesdays and Thursdays are for guard duty, Fridays are for helping with construction, and the weekends he keeps to himself.

The powers that be in Jackson also keep track of time, mostly for crop rotation and organizing the seasons, giving structure to the lives of its citizens. That means Joel has been aware of his birthday this year, creeping closer and bringing along memories he hates.

This year, he can’t live in blissful ignorance while it comes and goes, especially with Tommy around to remind everyone. So instead, he runs from it.

Joel walks down the soft, snowy streets of Jackson with his camping gear strapped to his back. He told Tommy he was going outside the walls tonight, making up some excuse about scouting a building that might have supplies to scavenge.

It was a lie.

Joel needed space—a place where he could wallow in solitude when the old feelings haunted him as his birthday approached.

With his gathered supplies, Joel mounts his favorite horse and rides out of the commune, waving to Tommy atop the lookout tower.

“See ya when you get back! And happy early birthday, big brother!” Tommy yells down.

Joel winces at the reminder and rides off into the distance.

---

Hours later, Joel makes his way to a familiar spot in the forest, a clearing he often visits while out on runs.

This hidden clearing, nestled deep among the trees and brush, is spacious enough for him to see the stars twinkling overhead while remaining safely concealed from any lurking dangers.

He sits by a small fire, eating his rations and gazing up at the night sky, lost in thought. He reflects on how he ended up here, all that he’s been through and all that he's done, dragging himself deeper and deeper into the pit of despair he so often finds himself drowning in.

Suddenly, something twinkles far above in the night sky, streaking across the tops of the tall oak trees.

A shooting star.

Joel had never seen one before; he had thought they had vanished like so many other pure wonders and good things in the universe. But tonight, he was wrong.

Unable to resist, Joel’s eyes follow the tiny, sparkling fragment as it glides across the sky. In that moment, he decides to be hopeful just one last time. After all, his birthday is approaching. Despite years of loathing it and skipping celebrations, maybe he deserves to make one wish.

As midnight strikes and the star falls, Joel closes his eyes and makes his wish.

He wishes to no longer hate this day. He longs to free himself from the burden of September 26th—the day he was born, but also the day he lost his reason for living, the day he lost Sarah. He wishes the memories of despair would lift from his shoulders, that things could have been different. That he could have cherished just one more birthday before everything fell apart and the world went to shit, giving him more good memories to hold onto and keep him company throughout the years.

When the shooting star fades from view and the sky darkens again, Joel feels a wave of silliness wash over him. Of course, his wish wouldn’t come true. With a sigh, he stamps out the fire, crawls into his sleeping bag, hand resting on his rifle, and drifts off to sleep.

---

September 26th 2003

Joel wakes to the sound of an alarm clock blaring.

He bolts upright, heart racing, and instinctively reaches for his gun—only to find nothing there.

As his vision clears, he realizes he’s not in his sleeping bag anymore. He’s in a bed—his bed—from thirty years ago.

Joel rubs his eyes, blinks, and even pinches himself, trying to shake off the dream, but it feels all too real.

Looking around his old room, everything is just as it was on the last day he lived there: rumpled sheets, a pile of dirty laundry in the corner, an old newspaper, and a glass of water on the bedside table.

It’s as if he’s been transported right back to 2003.

Warily, Joel gets out of bed and notices his joints don’t ache as they should. He races to the mirror attached to his dresser and takes in his features. He looks exactly as he did thirty years ago: fewer lines of age and worry, hair short and dark, no grey in sight, and far more muscular. There isn’t even a scar across his nose or temple.

Joel stares at himself in the mirror, breaths coming rapidly. It’s a dream, he tells himself, repeating it like a mantra.

But what if it isn’t? What if everything is as it’s supposed to be? A redo.

Just then, he hears something he never thought he’d hear again, and it takes all his strength not to fall to his knees.

“Daddy!” Sarah yells, her singsong voice bright and clear, just as he always remembered.

She bursts through his bedroom door, grinning from ear to ear—beautiful, whole, and safe.

“Happy birthday, you old fart!” Sarah teases.

Joel bounds across the room, scooping her into his arms.

“Babygirl,” he chokes back tears, wrapping his arms tightly around her. “You’re okay.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine,” she replies, her voice muffled against his chest. “Why are you being so weird?”

He doesn’t want to scare her, so he pulls himself together, trying to act like this isn’t the most magnificent moment of his life—a blessing to have another chance with his girl.

Gently, Joel loosens his grip and smiles down at her, cupping her cheeks in his hands.

“I love you so much,” he tells her.

“I love you too, Dad. I wish you didn’t have to work today. Working on your birthday is so lame.”

She’s right. That is lame. So, Joel does what he should have done the first time around: he pulls out his old cellphone and calls his boss to take the day off.

“Does that mean I get to skip school too?” Sarah jokes.

“Well, it’s only fair,” Joel says, a grin spreading across his face.

Sarah’s eyes widen. “Really?!” she squeals, excitement radiating from her.

“Why not?”

---

Joel meets Sarah in the kitchen, and together they spend the morning making pancakes and dancing to their favorite tunes. When Tommy arrives, Joel manages to talk him into skipping work as well.

“Come on, Tommy, you’ve never complained about skipping work before,” Joel teases.

“Fine,” Tommy says, his mouth full of pancake. “But when I’m short on rent this month, I’m counting on you to back me up.”

The three of them enjoy breakfast together, relishing their time as a family.

They spend the day having fun together, going to the park for Sarah to show off her soccer skills, stopping into town for ice cream on the way home, and lounging around on the couch, soaking in the quality time.

They end the day with a movie—a birthday tradition featuring "Curtis and Viper 2." This year, they even have a cake since Joel was able to skip work to pick one up.

With bellies full of sugar, Joel, Tommy, and Sarah are all sleepy-eyed on the couch, watching the end credits roll, when Sarah suddenly perks up.

“Present time!” she cheers, darting to her bedroom. Moments later, she returns with a small box in her hands.

“You got me something?” Joel asks, pretending to be just as surprised as when he first opened his birthday gift.

Sarah hands him the box and settles next to him on the couch. “You kept complaining about your broken watch, so I figured… you know.”

Joel opens the box to reveal the watch he prized above all else. He picks it up delicately, admiring the shine of the silver and the smooth, unbroken glass of the watch face.

“You like it?” Sarah asks, her voice tinged with nerves.

“Honey, this is nice,” Joel replies, tapping the watch. “But I think it’s stuck.”

“What?” Sarah exclaims incredulously. “No way! I just got it fixed—”

Joel bursts into laughter, and Tommy joins in.

“Oh ha ha, you got me,” Sarah concedes, rolling her eyes. “That was lame.”

“Where’d you get the money for this?” Joel asks, placing the watch around his wrist and snapping it into place.

“Drugs. I sell hardcore drugs.”

“Nice, kid. Real proud of you,” Joel laughs, playing along.

“Maybe you can help me out with this month’s rent then,” Tommy jokes from the other end of the couch.

“Thank you, honey,” Joel says, pulling Sarah in for a hug and kissing the top of her head. “I love it.”

Soon after, Sarah falls asleep on the couch, leaving Joel and Tommy some time together. Joel appreciates this; he’s missed his brother, and it weighs on him how their relationship has deteriorated over the years.

“Wanna go out to the bars to celebrate?” Tommy asks after a while.

“Hell no,” Joel replies. “Your ass will end up getting arrested.”

“Not fair! That only happened once!” Tommy whines.

“And it sure as hell will happen again if I don’t keep you in check.”

“Whatever,” Tommy concedes, settling back into the couch and scrolling through TV channels in search of something to watch.

“I’m gonna take her up to bed,” Joel says, nodding toward Sarah before standing and gently scooping her into his arms.

He carries his sleeping daughter to her room one last time, tucking her in with a kiss on the forehead. Instead of leaving, he wants to soak up every moment with her, as if any could be his last. So, Joel kicks off his boots and slides into bed beside her, wrapping an arm around her.

He falls asleep with a full heart and a smile on his face, grateful for the best birthday he’s ever had.

---

September 27th 2033

When he opens his eyes again, Joel wakes up on the cold, hard ground to birds chirping in a forest clearing. He should feel disappointed to be back in the present, but instead, he chooses gratitude. Grateful for the chance to relive the last moments with his daughter. Grateful for a wealth of new memories to carry with him through the years.

He realizes that maybe next year, when his birthday rolls around, he’ll remember the laughter and dancing in the kitchen with Sarah instead of the horrors that have haunted him for so long. The warmth of those moments will be a beacon, guiding him away from despair and toward hope.

With a deep breath, Joel rises to meet the day, ready to embrace whatever comes next.

[bookwyrminspiration]

wait wait wait I want to hear your thoughts on the fandom's interpretation of Alden

Sure! Keep in mind this is not a serious thing, it's not a hill I'm going to die on; this is all casual observation and thoughts, not anything important.

I feel Alden's character has gotten negatively distorted in general based on the extremes he's taken to. Is he a perfect person? No. But there are some characterizations--particularly the extreme bigotry/homophobia--that just aren't accurate to his character. And there are people who write that and know that Alden isn't to that extreme in canon! I'm not trying to say people who write and work with Alden like that are unaware and wrong and I'm trying to correct that.

Those characterizations aren't bad! They serve a purpose and I have no problem with people projecting experiences and using him for whatever they want--catharsis, fun, etc. There are some excellent homophobic Alden fics out there, but the fact that he would not fucking say that (to reference the og post) is something that can, and does coexist.

He wants the world to be a better place, he loves his family, he loves his kids. I genuinely think he would and does prioritize their happiness over any legacy and image. I think any concern over that is concern over how they're going to be treated and if they're ready/able to face the backlash, not him wanting them to be different--but my interpretation may be off.

But I do think that his character being used for negative extremes more so than any other can bleed over and makes it harder to stay true to him, if that makes sense. Perhaps my perception is distorted, but I feel like the vast majority of the time when Alden's mentioned, it's accompanied by something negative. Is some of it warranted? Definitely! His Keefe talk was...uncomfortable, to say the least, and that's not the only thing he's done. So there s definitely room for critique But some of it seems like it's negativity just because, unsupported. And I don't think he deserves that; he's literally just some guy. Not perfect, not awful, and serving a very specific role for the story that he completed. This is not to say people have to justify their actions or need to change, I'm just acknowledging that when I see it I'm more critical because opinions can be skewed.

Again, a lot of this is anecdotal and not serious at all (I know people know there's extremes and it's not canon, I don't think I'm like...more enlightened about him?). It's just my observation that the extremes he is taken to may be negatively skewing his canon perception overall past what's proportional to his character.

[paintedcrows]

Assorted Gravity Falls doodles!

[creakysocks]

"...So have you like... considered... *not* making another collider that could potentially break reality as we know it???"

"I mean I did but then i thought of what we'd be missing out on!"

"And what would that be??"

"More holes!"

idk im just thinking abt this au again

[ahollowgrave]

lays on the ground

[lunarharp]

played dragon age 2...just simple scribbles

[kagoutiss]

green beetle black beetle

[largemandrill]

Hey guys don’t worry about why I’m asking this but say I am in the process of drawing Elden Ring characters as Disney’s the Robin Hood esc furries and I don’t have an exact list of what character would be which animal. Allegedly I already have a few of them planned out (most of the roundtable), but I would love to have idea thrown at me like spaghetti at a wall.

[ivanttakethis]

I love that weird two-headed alien thing in Anakt Garden so much and especially that pic of ivan resting in its jaw. I know the picture isn't intended to be cute but when I see it I just think of when mother crocodiles scoop up their babies in their mouths to carry them. Ivan was that things little buddy

I do too! It’s one of my favorite pieces of official art. They just look so cute!! I love that you called Ivan the wagyein’s little buddy 🥹

You’re right about mother crocodiles, I never thought of it that way before. Maybe the wagyein saw Ivan as its baby? Or rather, something that needed its protection?

Another thing I love is how there are so many ways to interpret what the picture means.

Perhaps we’re meant to focus on the similarities between the two: red eyes, prominent teeth/tooth, obedient, monstrous (the wagyein literally and Ivan metaphorically).

Or it could be Ivan symbolically surrendering to the ugly parts of his inner self.

I like to think the picture shows an understanding between them.

They are both odd and somewhat solitary creatures, misunderstood by others. There are ugly parts in each of them that they can’t hide. But they find comfort in one another.

Ivan, resting in the wagyein’s mouth surrounded by all of its teeth, is extremely vulnerable; which we rarely if ever see him be at any other time in the series. The wagyein is also vulnerable to any attack beyond its teeth, throat, etc.

The fact that Ivan isn’t afraid of getting torn to shreds by the beast and the wagyein let Ivan so close suggests that there’s a level of mutual trust as well.

I wonder how Ivan felt when he gained the wagyein’s trust.

We know he struggled to connect with his classmates. Did he feel further ostracized when he had an easier time connecting to some sort of alien creature than other humans?

Did he see too many of his own features in the wagyein (red eyes, sharp teeth, and so on) to even think he was as human as the other children?

Maybe that’s where the idea of Ivan as a monster came from.

I firmly believe the similarities between the two were intentional.

[ryssbelle]

JD is going to ugly baby cry when he finally finds Clay? Like the overflow of Relief and happiness Will literally turns him into a blabbering mess That only Floyd can understand Because Floyd is the sensitive one.

I haven’t fully decided how the moment would go, there’s a lot of directions but I did decide to kind of do a concept doodle of this scenario, sort of. I was gonna send it with this ask but I think it deserves its own post for how long it is XD but know you were the ask that spawned it. But yeah I have lots of ideas on what could possibly happen, the biggest aspect of it that is subject to change is whether or not Clay is there in what would be this aus version of the Branch Floyd reunion from the movie, and then like what goes with that you know?

I’m more along the idea that Clay would be there, as would most of them, due to the circumstances having changed so drastically that they wouldn’t be separated by a fight, but you never know. This is pretty close tho to some of like my first thoughts, also sorry for taking a literal month to answer again the concepts I made were meant to go with this but I was going through so many drafts I legit just exploded.

The concept doodle will probs be posted tomorrow tho ;D

[puppetmaster13u]

I woke up thinking about selkies, and am now rotating Selkie batfam. And things like even when communication between them is at its worst they still trust each other to leave their skins with each other. And them learning to trust their friends and people outside the family to start doing the same with them too y'know.

Also just rotating big seal Bruce with his lil loaf children curled up with him both at home and in a room on the Watchtower. And also rotating what types of seals each of them appear like.

[yepmadness]

Yeah so. I gave into the urges. I’ve never felt the need to write fanfic. Ever. But here I am I guess.

I wrote this at midnight soooo, who knows how this is. Just wanted to write John thoughts because he’s my guy—so have this short little piece that I hope other people can enjoy too :)

Fic under the cut: 1.8k words.

The memory of Arthur’s silence will remain more prettifying than his agony, but that doesn’t mean that his pain … his terror as the light and awareness left his eyes—their eyes—is what John was hoping to hear.

He doesn’t know what he was hoping for. Relief? A gasping thank you? Pride in saving him? Would it be foolish to wish that the talisman fixed everything? That he would just be okay? Perhaps it is. He thinks it is. He was never going to have that. It would be unreasonable to think he would get any of that, but any joy of him living, of John fixing this, was ripped away when Arthur opened his mouth. All John wanted was a sound. A single noise, a response, any response to prove the talisman worked. He got that. He should be happy that he got that.

But he isn’t.

And Arthur is silent again.

And the world is dark—but not as dark as it could be.

John does not know what to consider if Arthur didn’t end up in the dark world … when he died. That place was the last thing he wanted for Arthur, and yet, it was always treated as a last resort. Of a sort. Between them, spoken only aloud by Arthur, so long ago now. A place they would end up together in—if they failed. It was not a future he ever wanted, but it was a possibility, even if it was one he despised the thought of. But now he knows that if Arthur dies he does not follow, instead he is left here to deal with the repercussions. To play the marker for lifeless remains, having to have witnessed, and experienced death without a choice. What if there is no place meant for them? Past all of this. He can’t exactly bury Arthur himself, if it came to it, he wouldn’t let him stay dead after all. Graves are a place of permanency, one they do not deserve, because they can be forgotten. Especially here. But John would never forget. He would never abandon him like that.

He would find a way, like today. They are stuck in this together. They both have to make their own path through this, together.

Except his body is no longer a weighted grave for them both, a tomb he would never dare leave, it is breathing. Arthur is alive—and so they are both alive, whatever that may entail. He is tentatively okay. Arthur, is okay. As okay as he can be, as they both can be. What matters is that he is alive—what matters now is keeping him alive.

John has almost lost Arthur more than once, twice, more than three times, and he wasn’t always there to fix it but he has tried to be. He often was. Every moment where Arthur falls, where he becomes immobile and lost to John, he feels himself succumb to a fragility accustomed to human bodies. Accustom to loss and fear. It’s horribly quiet without him. Even so, he saves him, he saves them both—because Arthur trusts him, and he trusts Arthur. He loves Arthur, and he is going to tell him that. He has to tell him that. Even if they both know it, to an extent. This can’t happen again without John making sure he knows it.

But this is never going to happen again.

Because Arthur died this time, and he almost lost everything. John felt the cold stone visage that he left in his absence. There was nothing here without Arthur, more so than just the lack of connection to their body, but the emptiness was staggering. He was alone. Completely and wholly alone in a space meant for two.

He hadn't felt terror like that since Arthur slit his throat before the King—but this was worse. They’ve grown … so much—and John wasn’t there to see the aftermath of his actions back then. This, he was aware of, in every aching moment of uncertainty. This could have been prevented, couldn’t it? They didn't need to go after the talisman, but they did, and John didn’t see her—not until it was too late. It was his words that made her kill him—an appeal made to the wrong person. Arthur wouldn’t have died if made the right decisions. But he always seems to make the wrong ones, no matter how hard he tries, that he and Arthur have in common.

But Arthur is alive again, so why does it still feel like he is grieving?

Arthur wouldn’t have gotten hurt, wouldn’t have died, if John wasn’t here. But John wouldn’t be here, who he is now, without Arthur. Perhaps that would be more demoralizing if Arthur hasn’t so vehemently stated that he doesn’t want to be rid of John, that they are in this together, until they both get what they want … no matter what that may be. Perhaps that is just happiness, in the end, no matter what it looks like. From one harrowing experience to the next, until they may finally rest. Arthur wants him here, in spite of all the pain it causes, and will continue to cause. Because Arthur is his friend, and more than that, but he is his friend.

Arthur might even be … pleased with his actions. That he has found himself, both with him, and all that he has learned for himself. That he knows who he is, in truth, after everything.

Even if he knows who he is now, who he wants to be, who he will always be—he knows he will want Arthur there too. Arthur who has been there for all his mistakes, his achievements, their joy and sorrow. Arthur deserved to be here for this too, but he wasn’t, and maybe that was the push he needed. He used to defend so much of himself to Arthur, expectation after expectation, misstep after misstep. But Arthur also gave him hope, the sanctity of trust, showed him love and sacrifice, and remained alongside him even when that trust was broken. Even if some mistakes can’t be forgiven … They let them rest. Arthur lets it rest, so they can move on, so they can grow.

Is it so wrong to become … whole without him there to witness it? Or is that how it was always meant to be. To be entirely his own, must he first be alone?

He hopes not, it is a terribly bleak thought, besides it can’t be. Not in every single world, even if Kayne said he … doesn’t change much. There must be some place where there is more joy to be held in his ownership of self. A better circumstance that does not lace his pride in one of their darkest moments. In his choosing of hope. In his choosing of Arthur. One that doesn’t extend off of a devastating fear, off of death. He doesn’t know if he would wish to change this, he would have—if Arthur was truly gone—but he isn’t, so he will just have to see how this plays out.

He is going to share everything he said—everything he did, with Arthur. Because he deserves to be a part of it. Because they do this, all of this, together. Because he wouldn’t be here without him. Because together they are whole of two, just like he said, just like he will say.

It’s not as if he will ever fit into the messy expectations of what it means to be human, per say, but he doesn’t need to. All he needs is to perceive himself as what he wants to be—and Arthur’s perception helps to, even if he doesn’t always meet that. Humanity will be whatever he wants it to be. However he defines it to be. A neutral point, in it all. For he is not a piece to be slotted away, but a piece to be shelved along the masses, every individual part given a space of its own, and it is a space he deserves. A space he had long since earned.

A space they both deserve, to play their own key.

Because Arthur is alive—and so is he, in every sense of the word.

He’d panicked, when Arthur lost consciousness again, for a second he thought he had lost him once more. John had been so ready to reach for the talisman for a second time—for he wasn’t going to allow Arthur to leave, not yet, not ever. But he was breathing, albeit raggedly, but he was. John was going to keep his promises, he had to. He was going to take care of this, of him, and they were both going to be okay. Just like the times before this, and everytime that may come after, because Arthur isn’t going to die.

They’re going to get their happy ending, despite what she said, one where Arthur does not end up as a corpse.

An ending where they both know want they want, what they deserve, who they are.

Moving Arthur to the witch’s bed was difficult, to say the least, without exasperating the wound and the subpar stitching ... even if it has improved. John won’t allow it to get any worse—and Yorrick keeps telling him it’s survivable, or that he is more likely to survive anyway. Even so, John periodically checks to make sure Arthur is still breathing, that his heart is still beating.

Arthur is alive. He will stay alive.

He should stop worrying, Yorrick keeps spouting that he is arguably fine. He should stop.

But the reality is that he can’t, and he doubts will for a long while to come.

He is intimately aware of every minuscule movement Arthur makes, of every second of awareness he gains, and he coaxes him back to the present through all of it. A melody of promises, of reaffirming how he feels, telling Arthur everything over and over and over. It doesn’t matter if he is aware of what he says, if he hears him at all, John will repeat his words for as long as they are needed.

John never lets him arrive to the dread of waking up alone, speaking as soon as he stirs and recognition strike, each and every time. They are never going to be alone again, severed or separated, and John tells him that. Because they are whole together.

And eventually, when Arthur finds his speech, a gentle—hoarse voice long since worn by constant yelling born from the suffering of the waking. He repeats back everything John has been telling him through the suffering of uncertainty, of recovery and knowing and fear.

Arthur moves, ever so slightly, before John can protest—and he brushes his hand, John’s hand. It is a little thing, but it is such a stark constant to the stillness he had before. After the pain of it all, this is a relief, a reprieve. Arthur is alive and John can tell he’s weakly smiling, even if that is not something he can see, when he speaks up for the first time in hours.

John isn’t surprised by what he hears, he already knew, after all. They’ve both said it before. But John it is nice to hear regardless, because together, they are whole. A comfort to both him and Arthur both. He does not want to live, to experience life as it was shown to him, without him. He wouldn’t have gotten here without him. Together they are whole. Both their own wills, colliding, and depending on each other. Made by each other.

Arthur is alive.

Arthur is alive and he breaks the one sided silence by saying, “I love you too.”

Perhaps that, for now, is enough.

[spotaus]

Hello guys! Today I'm posting a super self-indulgent lil drabble based on @ancientschampionau 's RealAge AU! (This is non-canon!! Just a silly concept!!)

This is 90% just me playing around with the idea of the boys story from the perspective of a random monster who lives in town! Light is a flame elemental who runs a small garden of their own, but mostly works for Grillby in his restaurant. They don't know nearly *half* of the gang's story, but they're fascinated by what they do learn over the course of a few weeks.

Uhhh. No proof-reading or anything here since it's just me being silly- Thank you Ancients for not minding me butting my grubby lil hands in and doin a goofy with it!

...

   The day wasn't too busy. At least, it was never too busy in town, but sometimes it got busy in the little restaurant that they called their home away from home. Grillby's was the go-to spot for everyone in town, and some nights they'd have to bring out extra chairs just to seat everyone. Those nights were always the most charming, hearing all the familiar voices of their neighbors rise and fall like waves as they recounted their weeks.

   Of course, Light liked unbusy nights just like this one too. Nights when they only had a few customers getting a drink or a late-night snack before they went home and hit the hay.

   Right now there were just a few regulars who Light recognized. A bird monster, and a dog specifically were sat not far from them on the otherside of the counter. Light was awful with names, but knew that these two were here every night. ...And they knew the two always had some sort of drama they were eager to share. Grillby was less inclined to let them spread rumors in his earshot, but Light was always curious and willing to humor them.

   "Ladies!" Light greeted the pair as they sidled up to the space before them, only the counter separating them. "How're you two doing tonight?"

   Both monsters looked up at the excitable greeting, and they both seemed to perk up a bit at Light's presence.

   "Oh, we're doing just swell, dear." The dog monster replied eagerly, her smile growing a bit. Light didn't miss how their flames reflected and highlighted the Grey that was growing around her muzzle. "We were worried we'd be stuck with your spoil-sport boss all night!" She teased then.

   Light knew everyone was fond of Grillby. He was just likable like that. So when the bird laughed a bit, Light joined in.

   "Hardly! Couldn't imagine a nice night like this without a good chance to hear the tea." Light assured them, which made them perk up even a bit more, "What do you have for me tonight?"

   The ladies looked between eachother, before the bird monster made a little sing-songy whistle. It drew Light's full attention.

   "We have a few newcomers to town!" She chimed, and the dog monster nodded her head in agreement. "They're staying with Sans at the moment. At least, that's what my son says he overheard!" She added. "That boy overheard a phone-call that nice Papyrus boy took from his brother, and it sounded sudden!" She sounded proud.

   Light had to admit, they were surprised. Normally the ladies would tell them of a new batch of sheep brought in or a baby foal being born. On the more exciting days it'd be a scandal having to do with some young strapping man coming to town, but often that just ended up being the plot of a movie they'd watched that day.

   Hearing names, though? Sans and Papyrus lived a little ways away, but Light knew of them. Hell, everyone in town knew them. The ladies had never tried to make a fake story about them, and Light was interested. New people staying in town with the brothers? Light had moved in from the city a few years back and they remembered being lucky they knew people here. If these newcomers were real, they were lucky to have the brothers to watch out for them.

   "New folks you say? Have they been into town at all?" They asked curiously.

   The two ladies shook their heads a bit, "No. Sounded like they just moved a few days ago." The bird monster answered.

   The dog monster leaned forward, "I heard from the grocery that Sans was definitely buying a few extra things, though. Seems like they'll be staying a while." She deduced.

   Light wasn't quite sure how right the ladies were, and they could tell they were going to try and dive into a guessing game that would most likely end up more insulting than insightful, so Light laughed a bit.

   "Well, we'll just have to do our best to make them feel at home, right ladies?" They insisted a bit pointedly, and recieved nods of agreement that Light hoped were genuine.

 

   They sighed, glancing around, already losing their focus as the women started thinking of exactly how many visitors there were, how they knew Sans, why they'd moved. The whole nine yards. And, admittedly, they too were curious. Light imagined they were probably just old friends stopping by to see the town before they headed on their way again.

   It felt like hardly a minute had passed when they felt a hand pat their shoulder. It jolted them from their thoughts, and they realized that Grillby was back. They didn't need him to say anything to know it was getting close to closing time, and they scurried back towards the kitchen so they could start cleaning up for the night. And among their chores, the thoughts of newcomers in town faded, overlapped by just how many dishes they had piled up.... curse their laziness.

.

.

.

   It'd been a month or two since the ladies in the restaurant had brought up Sans' new house-mates. At first Light had been sure they were temporary, but the assumptions of them staying seemed to be true. Light had heard just about every update on them directly from the ladies, anytime Grillby gave them the chance to ask.

   Apparently it was five new skeleton monsters, all of them staying with Sans. Or, Crop. They were calling him Crop now, something about skeleton naming conventions. Four of them were adult guys, and from what Light had been told, they were a bit imposing. The fifth, though? A babybones. From what they'd heard, it was a little boy that the four adults had showed up with. That kid seemed to be their pride and joy, and maybe even what brought them to stay with Crop.

   Light had seen a few of them out in town a few times, just in passing. The one with the hole in his skull was the first one they'd spotted out in the wild, helping Crop with errands. Then there was the one with the dark magic leaking from his sockets. His soul being on display was a bold choice, but Light hadn't had much time to oogle him, as he'd just been walking out of the market as Light was walking in.

   They heard a rumor about the one that always seemed serious, a red scar under one of his sockets, but Light hadn't had the opportunity to spot him yet, and they'd seen the babybones across the street once, tucked in the arms of the one who always seemed to wear a hood.

   Light really didn't like to pry into people's private lives, but there was just so much talk swirling around that it was hard to not get at least a hint of new news daily. Like, when they were shopping for a new shirt (they ripped their old one trying to climb up a tree and grab a piece of their laundry that had escaped the drying rack) they heard the shop-owner talking about how adorable the new little family in town was to the person in-line before them. When they were hanging out with some pals, their buddy said the hooded one had fixed his janky-ass cash register in just a few minutes. That thing had been broken longer than Light was in-town! And just lately they'd heard that Gerson was giving all of them high-praises.

   Of course, it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. No one knew where they came from, and they didn't tell either. Some people were weary, monsters with injuries like those? With the tired looks on their faces when they weren't really thinking about it? Monsters like that surely spelled trouble... but Light wasn't there to judge. They felt like an outside observer just piecing things together haphazardly as new information was thrown their way.

   ...and then they broke their lights.

   Okay, in their defense it wasn't actually the lights themselves. Something in the wiring had fucked up while they were at work, and they came back to a pitch-black farmhouse and a shitty housemate who'd scared the hell out of them by jumping out from under the table as they passed by.

  

   N, their awful (or Funny, as she'd put it) housemate had apparently gotten back from her own work and found the house like that, and she'd changed out all the lightbulbs before sunset. But, they didn't keep matches. Or lanterns, really. And she didn't know where to find the flashlight or her phone in the pitch black, so she'd decided waiting in the dark for her walking-torch of a friend to return was the best plan.

   And, apparently, N had somewhere to be in the morning, but she'd already phoned in an electrician to come figure out where things had gone wrong and fix it by the time Light was awake to find the note she'd left about it. Joyous day, Light loved those electricians. Not.

.

   One dreamless sleep and a tired morning. Light was in the kitchen, dressed in their work uniform and tiredly shoving a piece of fresh cantaloupe in their mouth, when their door knocker banged against the wood of the front door.

   Weird, the electricians always dragged their feet. One glance at their phone revealed that this one was only a few minutes behind schedule.

   They wandered to the door, gulping down their hasty breakfast before swinging the door open, and-

   That was not a big city electrician. That was, in fact, the new guy in town with the hood that fixed Gerson's, like, entire house. Wow. Light wasn't expecting him, N could've at least warned them!

   "Oh, good morning!" They unwittingly shifted gears, turning up their energy levels a bit, as to be welcoming. "I'm guessing my friend N called you about our electricity issue?" They questioned, holding the door open.

   It felt like they towered over the skeleton. They couldn't see his eyelights from under his hood, but he seemed tired and slouched. Unenthused to be here at the very least, and at the most he seemed deeply offended by having to stand on Light's rickety old porch. His vibe check was not passing.

   "Mm, yeah. Something about the wiring." He confirmed, seemingly begrudgingly. His voice was a little... quiet? That could've just been Light, though. They were used to the loud hollers of country-folk these days.

   Light sighed in exasperation. "Yep! I'm sure she probably told you all about it, but the entire lighting set-up went dark yesterday while we were both at work." They agreed, stepping to move out of the entrance to their house, "Come on in, I'm sure you'll know better than either of us did."

   The guy slipped in past them with a slight hum of confirmation, and Light noticed the toolbox clutched in one of his hands.

   They trailed him after closing the door, and watched as he honed in on the nearest light-switch. Unsurprisingly he toggled it, clicking the switch on. Off. On. Off again.

   Something felt a bit surreal. Light was convinced this guy and the other folks Crop was hosting were something like a urban legend, or a celebrity. They'd never been so close to them, and maybe it was a bit silly of them that they'd thought the guys were so imposing. I mean, this guy was in their house, and in just a few minutes he reminded Light more of a wet cat than anything the rumors about him or his friends had conjured up.

   He seemed tired, and he did everything with this off-putting systematicness. He'd seemed fine with Light trailing him through the house, pointing out where the wiring went and connected and which switches did what. It'd just given them more of a chance to observe him.

  

   In hindsight that was a little weird, but Light wasn't exactly the most normal monster in the world, so whatever.

   But truly. This guy seemed small, and a bit thin compared to the others they'd seen from afar. He was ultra quiet, probably the quietest person in town, and even though Light never saw his eyelights, it constantly felt like they were the one being scrutinized, and not the other way around.

   And, just like that, the skeleton had hummed and begun unscrewing a lightswitch plate just outside of N's room. Light watched curiously as he peeled the old cover back from the switch, and he poked at something with a nod to himself.

   "The wires here are frayed, messed up the circuit." He voiced, and his words made Light jump a bit. The only sound for at least 15 minutes had been their steps and the crackling of Light's flames.

   "Oh, seriously?" They asked meekly, seeing as he was already pulling some stuff out of his tool kit. Wires, it looked like. Maybe electrical tape too?

   "Yeah. Rat probably chewed through it." Was all he responded with, and Light was once again left in that silent gap as they watched him work. And he was skilled, that was for sure. Light had half expected him to dismiss them so he could fuck around for an hour to waste their time like the city electricians used to, but in about 5 minutes flat he had the wires attached, and in a few more minutes the cover was screwed back in place.

   A simple flick of the switch had the hall lights on in a split second. The shadow that fell on his skull darkened, but Light was too busy being impressed by his handiwork.

   "Holy shit, they don't even flicker anymore!" They said in mild amazement, missing as the skeleton packed his supplies back up and seemed already prepared to go.

   He led the charge back to the door, double-checking each light as they went, but they all worked better than ever now.

  

   "Here, your pay!" Light suddenly broke their silence, digging into their pocket before producing a roll of cash that N had left behind. "Thank you for the help, man." They added, though they swallowed their need to offer him a cup of coffee or a quick snack. It seemed to them he wasn't compelled by the need for a classic southern-farewell.

   He plucked the cash from theur hand, slipping it into a pocket on just jacket with a mumbled 'No problem.' before he was already on his way back out the door.

   Thirty minutes or so, that was really all it had taken. He was like a spectre, in and out in near complete silence. Not abrasive, but not friendly... cautious? Yeah. In hindsight he did seem cautious.

   Light decided in that moment that they'd be asking Grillby to give that man and his friends a discount the next time they stopped in.

.

.

.

   They were really moving into Gerson's old farm. Light hadn't seen that one coming in the slightest, but when Dani had driven past them with a load of lumber in her truck, with another few following her, Light had realized they were heavily out of the loop.

   Luckily for them, their boss knew what was going on already, and he was already telling them before they got two steps in the door with the latest crate of their supplies.

   "A delivery?" Light questioned the fire monster as he heated the crate out of Light's grasp. Light was young and spry, but Grillby was miraculously strong.

   They eyed him curiously, eyes skimming his flames, listening to the crackling pops that danced away from him. Was he really...?

   "Gerson's old place? Those guys really moved in there?" They questioned, though they knew that Grillby wasn't one for gossip. He was dead serious when he said he needed them to run an order out to the place.

   Apparently, Ellie had insisted Grillby contribute to their little gathering, celebrating the new neighbors and helping them settle in for good. Of course, he'd obliged, but he didn't want to leave the restaurant unattended for too long. So, Light would be taking the orders that way instead.

   "Alright, okay!" They laughed a bit as Grillby nudged them using the crate in his arms. All the supplies were stacked out back, and it seemed all the food was ready in the kitchen.

   Light gathered the food carefully, stacking it securely in their passenger's seat as Grillby kept moving in and out of the building, each time with another load of supplies.

   And then they were off. With only a slight detour past their own place, they made it no problem to the place they were meant to be.

   ...Luckily, the crowd wasn't big, and it wasn't hard to find a place to park on the driveway. Light could see a small group gathered in front of the building, and found that a few more were already on their way back to theur trucks. The Sun wasn't quite setting, but Light hoped they hadn't taken too long.

  

   Swinging out of the driver's side, they rounded to the passengers and gathered the food along their arms... having four sure did help them with the load.

   They kicked the door of their truck shut and moved as hurriedly as they could towards a familiar bunny monster. She and her partner were the only reason they were out here.

   "Food delivery, still warm!" Light called out when they got close enough that it felt appropriate. Only once a few faces had turned did they grin and continue, "Fresh from Grillby's, he sends his regards to our new neighbors!"

   One of the few of the group that was gathered was that skeleton with the magic leaking from his eyes. Light had, once, wondered whether they were tears but had since dismissed that idea. He always wore a wicked grin whenever they crossed paths.

   It was that skeleton and Ellie who approached them, breaking off from the little group who'd seemingly been helping out. Though, Light suspected by now that it might've become a social hour as the sun kept dipping lower.

   "Huh, today is just full of pleasant surprises," the skeleton voiced as he got within rang to stop and stand before Light, "And to think this is just in time for dinner. Now Horror won't have to cook!" He... seemed to be thinking aloud.

   Ellie came up beside him, smiling at Light, "Oh I was worried that stubborn monster wouldn't send anything at all!" She voiced, "Thank you, Light, for bringing all this up here." She was already moving forward, and Light let her scoop one of the covered plates off their arm.

   "It's no trouble at all. Least I can do to return the help is ferry some food to you hard-workers." They replied easily, though they didn't miss how the skeleton was looking at them now.

   I mean, he'd been looking before, but now Light felt that same weird feeling of being watched as they had at their house. A glance revealed that the skeleton had an eyebrow quirked at them.

   "Return the help?" He questioned idly.

   Oh, right, "Yeah! Your hooded friend was a big help to me a few weeks back. Fixed up my house's entire lighting circuit in a fraction of the time the city folks usually take." They said honestly, "But, based on what I've heard I'm probably not the first one to say that." They laughed a bit.

   The skeleton seemed to relax a little. When had he even tensed? Light hadn't noticed there was any tension in his form until his shoulders slumped a bit.

   "Ohhhh, right. Geez, Dust's met half this town and doesn't tell us anything." He mused. Light just tried to file away that the hooded one was Dust. "Well, speaking of Dust, he's probably already inside with the others." He said then, tilting his head towards Ellie, "You mind fielding the rest of these guys? Meet us back inside for dinner?"

   Ellie assured this guy that she could handle it and passed off the plate she'd taken to him.

   Light wasn't exactly informed on what was happening, but the skeleton just nodded for Light to follow him, and they did.

   They passed the last few folks catching up and cleaning in the lawn before climbing some steps onto a porch. Then the skeleton swung the door open, and Light slipped in behind him easily. It felt like any other delivery to any other residents of the town. Familiar and practiced, even though they'd never even gone past the drive on this old property.

   Inside the house was a bit barren, and pretty quiet, but that serenity only lasted for a few seconds before there was a call from the skeleton who led them inside.

   "Guess who brought back the grub?" He called, recieving various voices hissing the name 'Killer' in various levels of frustration to his calling.

   Light traveled into a separate area, a kitchen/dining room it seemed, following Killer with the meal, and they suddenly understood why they had so much.

   Sat and stood in the space were the other three skeletons who'd moved in, along with Crop, Straw, and Dani. It felt like a family-reunion of sorts. The skeletons all seemed to be leveling Killer with frustrated and exasperated looks as he sauntered inside and set his one plate on the table before him.

   "Killer, you gotta be more careful, Night was trying to get in a nap." Scolded one of them quietly, the one with the red scar under his eye.

   And stood in the doorway, Light spotted exactly what he was talking about. Killer moved quick to approach the hooded skeleton, Dust, and Light initially missed what was curled up in Dust's lap. No, not what. Who.

   There, tiredly blinking up towards the approaching Killer, was the babybones. He looked so comfy tucked in Dust's arms, and Light didn't envy him when Killer leaned and gently poked at one of his cheeks. "Sorry tiny boss, but we've got dinner to eat." He seemed to quietly amend as the little guy seemed unphased by the prodding.

   Light had been a bit shell-shocked. Maybe it was the kid being so cute? Maybe it was exhaustion from a long day? Most likely it was just that they felt like a bit of an intruder on a nice family meal. Like there was an invisible wall separating them from the fondness permeating in the room.

   Of course, that wasn't the case, and their arms were still keeping a few plates Wirth of food warm as they stood idly by. Watching as the room seemed to grow warmer at the presence of the babybones reawakening.

   "Oh, Light! Should've known Grillby wouldn't come himself." They were jolted out of their thoughts by Crop. He acknowledged them, which brought a lot of eyes directly onto them. They hoped their flames didn't burn brighter in embarrassment.

   They took a few steps inside, which brought them to just before an open seat at the table. "Great to see you again, Crop! You know how he is anymore about leaving the place un-manned." They voiced, trying to shake the gazes they could feel digging into them as they expertly laid the plates across the dinner table, sliding a few down the way with a practiced arm. "Besides, I would've been bummed if I hadn't gotten to greet the newly-moved in folks properly!"

   They stepped back once the food was all arranged, but finally took a moment to meet the stares watching them. Killer seemed unbothered, already moving to sit. Dust would've likely been uninterested, but Light could see how the little one was staring at them. And the other two? The big one was alright. He didn't seem to mind once Crop had greeted them, but the one with the scar still seemed weary.

   "Of course, I'll get out of your guys' hair so you can eat, but I heard people were bringing gifts, and my farm's not in season right now, so I had to improvise a bit." They said with a nervous grin as they popped open their inventory. A moment later, a simple black vase settled in their hands, and the room was lit up just a bit more.

   They hadn't expected the surprised hum of surprise from one of the skeletons.

   "Are those flowers, but on fire?" He asked, and Light caught that it was the one with the scar. They hoped that meant they could woo him a bit and make things less awkward.

   "Basically!" The agreed. "Flame flowers, they're my speciality item I grow in my garden. They'll keep burning as long as you leave them in the sun and don't water them." They explained, before holding the little bundle of them out above the table. "They're non-flammable and the flames don't get hotter than an average spring day. The vase is stone too, better for them to last longer." They almost got lost in a rant about how exactly the plant worked, but reigned it in as they realized just how long they'd been talking.

   "Mm, they seem pretty neat. Thank you." Came the voice of the one with the hole in his skull. "Would ya mind setting them on the counter there?" He gestured towards the counter behind them, and as they turned to place them, they realized Dani had begun talking about something. Maybe them, even? But they'd overstayed their welcome.

   Dani or Ellie would get the plants back to them to get back to Grillby's, they knew that much.

   They passed Ellie on their way out, only exchanging quick pleasantries before they split ways. The lawn was dark now, vacant besides Light's glow against the grass abd trees, abd their truck was the last one, parked a few paces from Crop and Dani's trucks.

   They stopped by the restaurant to check in on Grillby, but he dismissed them for the night, so they simply went home. But, those guys... something about them was oddly familiar. Or, oddly unfamiliar? They couldn't place it, not with words, but all that really mattered was that they seemed to really have found a home here, just like Light had.

   The town, with its many faults and troubles, seemed to attract the strangest people to call it home. That's what it was meant for though, right? This town looked out for its own. Maybe that was why it felt so right to have those five skeletons now living up on that previously vacant plot after so long.

[tauforged]

good evening sigmoira enjoyers. i come bearing jokes based on a silly conversation i had with my friends a little while back that has been living rentfree in my head for a week

[ofdarklands]

level 90 at last!

so! about black mage

i've been thinking how to describe playing black mage, and i think the simile i used this morning in chat works well enough:

black mage feels like trying to run with a pot full of boiling water in my hands. with other jobs i feel light and agile, but black mage plays like how seeing emet selch as solus run would feel. look at that guy go. i didn't know spines could do that! you can hear his knees crunch, also

mechanically, it's really not nearly as bad as i feared it to be, even though i don't think i'd managed to figure out a decent rotation myself on the first or even third try so, thank you internet people for the guides!

anyway, the boiling pot wheezing trot sensation is not unique to it, though it is the most noticeable of all the casting classes i've played. i'd say rdm>summoner>whm>>blm in increasing awkwardness

so, while i acknowledge that blm is an optimizer's paradise to get the Biggest Booms, probably, playing it feels like it's almost fighting against the game instead of flowing with it and due to that it's just not very enjoyable, for me. it's got the same inflexible rotation that makes dragoon my least played class despite it being very canon for mitr'a

and from a physical perspective my fingers are not very precise on the keyboard, so i tend to fuck up the routine by accident quite often and then i have to correct it or start over and eeeehhhhhh. and my can't-remember-to-click-despair situation. dunno what the problem is with that one, to be quite honest. brain said no i guess :( that one's on me

woops this got longer than i thought so have a readmore

the good:

aforementioned big damages, when i manage to keep the rotation on track. sadly not as much of a plus for me, personally, but it's relevant still

against one enemy, getting immersed in the rotation can be pretty fun, until the 5 aoes come, the boss leaves the arena, and i sigh deeply while creakily running around, not casting

lasso spell goes brrr. it's got a very funny sound effect, in my heart

the 'return to leylines' spell is also great. i've used it mostly to instantly dodge when there's more than 2 sequential aoes. you can play around with these two spells

shoutout to the simplified job gauge for letting you actually understand anything about it. sure it's 3.5 things to keep track of, but for 2 of them you get informed about their readiness with convenient sounds and flashing borders so whatever

big staff to hit people with

cone hat funny

big lb meteorites. very good very cackling

the bad:

moving feels heavy, even when using the instant cast abilities. i keep lagging behind the group even in normal content, and sometimes clicking the right person to yeet to can be a bit hard in alliances or wall to walls. this class needs to do some cardio

clicking fire IV 3 times, then 1 fire I then fire IV 3 more times is. very boring. sorry. rotation 40 years long and rigid like the brutalism. the funnest parts are the thunder procs and the ice phase before going back to fire and the occasional instant cast. oh you sneezed and misclicked and dropped your fire badge thingies on the floor? sorry idiot you get to start over from the top, but sadder this time

this one i only noticed here at the end, but i feel it's very important, maybe more than the rotation: the best and biggest animations it has are the ones for the ice spells, which you use the least. xenoglossy, foul and flare are also good. amplifier, manafont and triple cast feel nice and dramatic to use. paradox i just got but it's also nice with the color mix. the rest i don't even remember, had to go cast them on a dummy. it's fireballs and fire columns it's all fireballs! the blm animations have a lot of boom but they need more heft, if that makes sense? more flying shit going from you to the target, shit shrapneling from the target, rings of fire, fiery eldritch runes, anything. if rdm can shoot 50 explosive roses at a guy for some reason and drk can summon shields of runes, blm can do something fancy also. casting a finisher skill called 'despair' should look like i'm sucking their souls out through a straw

also more casting positions. summoner has a lot and they're pretty different! they got floating symbols and shit. blm has 'slightly crouched' and 'staff held high' in variation 1 and 2, and that's about it from what i can tell besides the selfbuff ones. add some evil runes at least. the paradox wide armed one (i think you float a little?) is a good addition though

anyway, final verdict: it's a good class, but it's very rigid and inflexible to get Big Damages, which is not an exciting exchange, for me. i prefer to be nimble and do less damage but have a more varied and forgiving rng based rotation. also more utility skills! i miss peloton or having a group shield or heal, or even rdm's rez; makes me feel actually useful instead of being just a giant cone hat that produces flamethrower on command. i don't think i'll play it too often, i'm afraid, even though it's a perfectly alright class, and i'm sure i'll get better with time

HOWEVER. if dawntrail allows blm to throw meteorites outside of lbs i might reconsider. they can be small! even magical molotov cocktails if we must. but i want physical flamming objects to hit my enemies and i want to see the animations do that with some flair. just ole fire and spite booms and a couple icicles is not enough. i want to flatten them