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motherlvr · 11 months

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3+1 times Prowler! Miles Morales x Spider-woman! reader

SPOILERS FOR ATSV

read part 2 here!

3 times Miles tried to confess, + 1 time he did.

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: Instead of the radioactive spider biting Miles, it bit you. You turned into Brooklyn's one and only Spider-woman, while Miles turned into the prowler. Miles also helps you with Spanish.

Warnings: friends to lovers, lots of cursing, most definitely not canon, kind of slow-burn?, jealousy, morally gray reader, he's lowkey toxic, no smut, heated make-out session, im feasting on crumbs (his 2 minutes of screen time), this is not ATSV plot heavy, the whole prowler x spidey thing isn't really until the end (enemies to lovers)

A/N: for the sake of the plot, the reader doesn't fluently speak spanish, but can speak some. this has been rotting in my drafts ever since ATSV came out

Miles glares at you two from across the room, predominantly at the guy you're laughing with. Surely he's not that fucking funny. Miles thinks as jealousy spreads within the pit of his stomach like a forest fire. However, you don't seem to notice his stare burning holes through the guy you're speaking to. The same cannot be said for him, however. Miles makes eye contact with him and sends him one glare that immediately makes the poor guy cower with fear away from you.

"I uh...gotta go." The guy squeaks out to you, his voice cracking with terror as he runs away. You raise an eyebrow as you watch him run away. What the hell was that? You think.

Miles appears next to you within the next moment and says, "Hey, ma." he gives you a slight smirk and wraps his arm around your shoulders. That smirk made you weak in your knees, you almost kissed him right then and there. You should be given an award for your amount of self-restraint.

"Hey Miles, qué pasa?" You greet him with a smile that reaches your eyes. Miles' smirk drops and he furrows his eyebrows at you as he inquires. "Who was that guy?" "He's just a friend, why?" You raise an eyebrow and question back. "Don't worry about it, you like him?" His words catch you off guard. You pause for a moment and turn your head to him with a judgmental stare as you shake his arm off you and say, "Miles. What is this? 20 questions?" You deadpan and continue, "He's not important, alright?" Seemingly satisfied with your response, he drops the subject.

After school, Miles and you head to his house. You've been struggling in Spanish class. Spanish grammar might actually be the death of me, you think. Since Miles excels in Spanish due to primarily being raised by his mother, you asked him to tutor you, which he surprisingly agreed to.

It doesn't hurt that you get to spend more time with Miles, either. Something about him never fails to send butterflies straight to your stomach, maybe it's his intense stare that makes you weak in your knees, his accent that somehow makes him ten times more attractive, or- You cut your thoughts off. You felt guilty for feeling this way about Miles. You know you shouldn't. These feelings you harbor would only cause more harm than good. After all, the people you love always seem to be in danger.

After a couple of hours of pure torture, (Spanish grammar) Miles started to speak, "Escúchame, mami. I-"

Loud, blaring police sirens cut off his sentence. Thanks, Brooklyn. Pretending to get a message from your mother, you glance at your phone's screen and look at Miles with an apologetic expression, "Shit, sorry Miles but I gotta go. My mother wants me home. She said it was urgent. But we're still on for tomorrow right?" Miles raises a skeptical eyebrow but ultimately says, "Yea. It's 'Ight, princesa. See you tomorrow" his accent lacing his words. You get up to kiss his cheek and wave him goodbye. As normal friends do, you tell yourself. Shit. You shake the thoughts away before your overthinking completely undoes your brain.

You wait until you're at least a couple blocks away from his house before you reveal the spider suit underneath your clothing and pull your mask down your face. You thwip your webs and swing away to investigate what crime was scheming tonight in Brooklyn. Leaving Miles alone in his room to regret not telling you.

Honestly, you weren't paying attention to whatever Miles was saying. Instead, you were just focusing on how attractive you found his accent. You'd suffer through two more years of Spanish just to hear his voice. In fact, during most of these tutoring lessons with Miles, you weren't paying attention to the actual lesson. It doesn't help that he keeps staring at you with those eyes of his. But behind that cold exterior, you knew he had a soft spot for you. Even if he didn't outright admit it.

Miles' voice brought your attention back to the actual lesson, "Lo entiendes, princesa?" Miles asked you with a knowing smirk. You nodded your head immediately, trying to play it off. "Uhh, si." You said with a thumbs up, immediately regretting it. That was so nerdy. You shame yourself in your mind. You pretended to take notes, shamefully lowering your head down to your notebook.

While you were pretending to take notes, Miles broke the silence.

"So what's up with you and that guy from earlier?" "I told you, he's just a friend. Nothing is going on between us." Miles puts his hands up in his defense, "Alright, mami. It just didn't look like that with the way you were laughing at whatever he said. He's not Kevin Hart."

Way to completely ruin the mood. You dropped the pencil you were holding and stopped taking notes. Looking directly into his eyes, you said "Miles, I really don't know what your deal is." "You really wanna know what 'my deal is'? 'Ight. It's 'cause-"

Miles' phone beeps, interrupting him. He cursed in his mind, not being able to tell you how he felt yet again. He glances down at his screen. "Ay princesa," Miles spoke up, his words never failing to make your face go warm. His nicknames for you weren't new by any means, but they still made your heart flutter. He continued, "Uncle Aaron needs me, I gotta roll. He said it's an emergency. Don't think I'm trying to cut this short. You're still my girl, alright?" He started to leave when he turned around suddenly. He walked over to you and turned your head to him with his hand, kissing your forehead. "Hasta luego, mami." He left the room, leaving you alone in his room with only your thoughts swirling around your mind. You were sure you were about to have a heart attack. His girl? The kiss? Miles was acting oddly affectionate. And what's with him practically using the same excuse I used? It's not like he's the crime-fighting vigilante here. You rolled your eyes.

You didn't know what Miles and his uncle were so busy doing, but you had a feeling that it wasn't very morally right. That would explain how ambiguous he's been lately. More often than not, he's had to leave in the middle of tutoring to tend to whatever his Uncle needed him for. But you can't entirely blame him, you have secrets you've been hiding from him too.

You packed up your things and left his room. "Chao, Mrs. Morales. Thank you for letting me into your home!" You said to Miles' mother while leaving. "Of course, you're always welcome here." She replied to you with a warm smile. That woman was a true saint.

If you had to spend any more time confined in a room alone with Miles and just your emotions, you were sure you'd fucking lose it. By losing it, I mean grabbing him by the collar of his hoodie and kissing him senseless. But you were afraid. Afraid that he would take your heart right out of your chest to shatter it and then leave you alone to pick up the pieces. So, you came up with a little white lie to get out of tutoring today.

"Is it alright with you if I skip tutoring today? My mother is sick and I have to take care of her." The lie slipped off your tongue like butter.

"Nah that's cool." He shrugs. Huh. He let me off that easy? You were two seconds away from having the dreaded 'What are we?' conversation with him after last night, until someone's arms wrap around you from behind.

"Hey, beautiful." Your friend from the other day was back. And he clearly didn't see Miles right next to you. You cringe and awkwardly take his arms off of you and turn around, "Hey, Josh." "Are you free tonight?" Miles was watching this interaction with jealousy coursing through his veins. Did this douche seriously not see him right next to you? Right before you could even open your mouth to respond, Miles responds for you. "Hell no she isn't. Get the fuck out of here, man." Miles snaps at him. Your friend's head whipped to Miles so fast you were sure he'd get whiplash. "Oh shit." He stuttered, "Sorry, man. I didn't see you...I'll leave now." He ran away as fast as his feet could take him. Poor Josh.

You glared at Miles. "What the actual fuck was that, Miles? He was just asking me a question." "He was asking you out, idiot." Miles said right back to you. "So what if he was? Honestly. What's it to you? You've been acting so possessive. May I remind you that we are not together?" You snapped at him. "Maybe I want-" He started, but this time, he was the one cutting his sentence off. He couldn't find the words to tell you just yet.

The bell rings. You look at Miles, awaiting his response. When a few silent moments pass by, you finally say, "What? What is it you want?" For once in your friendship with Miles, he didn't have a response. You, he thought. "Y'know what Miles? Until you've come to your senses, just leave me be for now." He had no right to start acting like you were bound to him. You walked to your class without him. He cursed himself in his head.

You'd been ignoring him the whole day. Yet ever the petty, he hadn't messaged you at all.

Your phone pings. "You busy with Jake?" You read. It was from Miles. That petty fucker. Your face immediately drops. That's not even his name. You left him on read and turn off your phone. For someone who thinks he's heartless and nonchalant, he sure was acting possessive.

Dusk approaches Brooklyn and you're out patrolling instead of thinking about Miles. That's all you've been doing lately, and you needed a distraction.

Unfortunately, Miles had the same idea. He was out taking missions Kingpin gave him.

As you were searching the streets of Brooklyn for crime, you sensed a presence. Ahead of you was a silhouette in a dimly lit alley, their back facing you. You hid behind the wall. Finally something interesting tonight! As you climb on the walls and get closer, you recognize the figure.

Oh, great. It's the Prowler.

This wasn't your first time meeting the Prowler. No, you've fought with him in the past. He's ruthless and a cold-blooded killer. He's efficient and excruciatingly fast. That's what makes him an imminent risk to be allowed to roam the streets freely.

As Spider-woman, it's your responsibility to keep the streets of Brooklyn crime-free. So, you follow him. As you're trailing behind him, crawling on the walls, you notice the people he's meeting with. It's an arms deal, you realize. As you crawl closer, you notice that they weren't regular arms. They were abnormally high-tech for these seemingly harmless criminals.

I'll just web up the couple of amateurs and then deal with the big guy Prowler, easy. Oh how wrong you were.

"Hey, boys! Nice toy you've got there." You said as you dropped your voice down an octave, disguising your voice. You jump down from your place on the wall and thwip your webs at the unsuspecting arms dealers, binding them to the wall. They were knocked unconscious.

You thwip'd your webs at the weapon and effectively took it away from them. You'd have to drop it by the police station later with a friendly note.

The Prowler lunged at you, his steel claws missing your face by an inch.

"Hey, man! That felt a little personal." You shouted, thankful to still have your face attached to your head. You used your webs to grab onto the Prowler and strike him directly on his mask. You started to run, with the Prowler tailing right behind you.

He had you cornered, but you weren't surrendering that easily. You positioned into a defensive stance, ready to defend yourself.

His mask was cracked a bit, causing his voice modulator to reveal his unfiltered voice. "Nowhere to run, spider."

Your heart dropped as your eyes widened through your mask. Not in fear, but in recognition. You could recognize that voice anywhere. That was the voice that sent shivers down your whole body, yet made you want to strangle him the next.

"...Miles?" The words came out more of a whisper. Your voice sputtered as you dropped your fake voice. You webbed the weapon to the wall, disregarding it. Turns out, he didn't need to reject you to shatter your heart into a million pieces.

His stance immediately faltered. He could recognize your voice out of a thousand others.

Prowler, or rather Miles, stood silent.

“Miles, take off that damn mask. I know it's you.” You took off your mask, and he opened his. His eyes were unreadable. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into Miles?" You sighed. You didn't recognize him anymore. You didn't know who he was. There was no way the Miles you knew had become this.

"Fuck, princesa. I didn't want you to get involved in this shit. You're the fucking spider?" You feel as if he was seeing you for the first time again. "I'm fucking Spider-woman, you dick. And I've been involved with this 'shit' ever since I got bit by a spider. Now explain this, whatever you've turned into!" You spurted out, pointing at his suit. "I got roped into business with Kingpin after my father died. Shit, I never meant for this to happen." He exclaimed.

"What, you think you're protecting me by not telling me? Bullshit." You say, throwing your hands up in the air. "I was protecting you. I was protecting you from Kingpin. Because I fucking love you. I meant it when I said you were my girl." He proclaimed.

When you thought this night couldn't get any wilder, it just did.

Alarms blared in the back of your mind, telling you to leave. Your brain is screaming at you to think about your moral obligation to stop the Prowler, no matter who he is. But your heart is telling you otherwise. You choose the latter.

"Fuck, Miles. Shut the hell up." You threw a web at his abdomen and pulled him towards you, efficiently shutting him up by connecting your lips to his. Sliding your hands onto his braids, you pulled him in closer. He immediately reciprocated and grinned into the kiss, setting his arms on your hips.

Turning into a heated make-out session, he backed you against the wall of the alley. You felt your legs giving out on you. Miles put his knee in between your legs, supporting you. He kissed you with passion. He's pinned for you for the longest time, and he finally has you. He wasn't going to give it up for anything. Unfortunately, you needed oxygen to live, so you pulled back. A string of saliva connected your lips as you parted.

He took away all the oxygen in your body, and apparently your moral compass as well, with only one kiss. Unable to open your eyes until a few moments after, you fluttered your eyes open. "I fucking love you too, Miles" You whispered against his lips. "Oh, really? Couldn't tell." He teased with a smirk, his lips seconds away from yours as he looked down at you. He held your gaze with longing in his eyes.

Muffled screams ruined the moment. Miles and you react immediately, putting your masks back on. You got your webs ready while Miles had his steel daggers out. Lowering your guards, you realize it was the couple of guys you webbed up and forgot. "Sorry, I'll go take care of them." You said as you rubbed the back of your head awkwardly. Miles stifled a laugh as he said, "That's alright, ma. You can make it up to me later." You heard the smugness in his voice as you swung away to the police station. You made sure to fulfill his request later that night.

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part 2!

#miles morales x reader #miles morales #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #into the spider verse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman #prowler miles #miles morales spider man #spider man #spiderman into the spiderverse #jealousy #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers

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mayiwritesomething · 2 months

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Love is An Unfamiliar Name (Pt. 1)

You’re a sucessful and methodic award winner music composer and producer, that after working on a few movies got invited to coordinate the sound department on a TV series, by your busy and controlled schedule, it will be just another project on your portifolio… but life sometimes has a funny way to surprise you.

Wordcount: 1,6k

A/N: guys just be nice to me since this is my first fic haha, that i decided to write just for fun. I apologize if there is any mistakes since english is not my first language. In this first chapter i tried to give a little bit of our main caracter background (she may seem a little stupid at first, but she’s got a big heart and is just scared of showing too much affection). And since this is a real person celebrity fic i tried just to write a fun story. Hope you like it :)

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Dinner

"Goodbye, boss! Could you please brief me on how the meeting will unfold?" Jennifer says with a smile.

"Stop calling me that! Jesus!" you respond with a less than welcoming expression, that might scare those unaware of your kind nature.

Jennifer continues to laugh, saying, "Oh, come on! I'm just getting into the spirit. I've already gathered the entire team for the project and sent you the email with the details. I heard this guy Craig is as methodical as you."

She takes another sip of a drink, the contents of which are unclear due to the image quality, but you assume it's some kind of energy-boosting juice. "I also discovered he's a fan of your work, so you're all set! The brainstorming session you organized for the plot is fantastic", she adds, concluding with a laugh, "Bye, good luck, bossy!".

“Bye Jenny!”

Jennifer, has been your assistant of nearly a decade and a friend for much longer, understood your aversion to titles. Despite this, for the next ten months at least, you were going to assume the role of a boss. Coordinating an entire sound team was no easy feat; having experience on both sides, you were well aware of the challenges ahead. However, in this case, you were not just a regular composer working on a typical project. You were a fan adapting one of your favorite games for the big screen, something that filled you with anxiety.

As Jenny had predicted, the meeting was a success. Time seemed to fly by as you delved into your passion for music and its transformative impact on a serie. This phase of your career gave you the freedom to choose your collaborators, and Craig was someone you wanted work with for some time. Over the course of a three-hour Zoom call, you found that you connected well, not only with Craig but also with the rest of the team. Together, you had a productive briefing, establishing the desired atmosphere that would align with both the essence of the game and the script you held in your hands.

As life began to regain its rhythm post-lockdown, you still felt a hint of anxiety about going out and mingling with more than four people. However, this evening called for celebration with your friends, primarily because Jenny wouldn't let you be, insisting that you only pretended to enjoy being by yourself. She believed you needed "some drinks, good food, laughter, tears, and maybe getting laid."

Following your last breakup, you had made a promise to yourself to not date anyone for a year, a vow you upheld not just for one year but for the following one as well. Suddenly, all the men and women you encountered seemed uninteresting, but you still had some fun in one night standings, which by the way made some of the people you met quite angry, as you would just leave without saying anything.

As soon as you arrived at the bistro booked by Jenny for you and the girls, Maria said out loud, “Here comes THE GOAT!!”

'”Shhhhh, Maria! This is a private place,' you whispered, glancing over your shoulder, although people were imerged in their own worlds and conversations, allowing you and your friends to enjoy a pleasant girl night.

“Come on, girl, you're the award winner here, not to mention THE SOUND COORDINATOR! Aren't you thrilled?” Jenny attempted to lighten the mood.

“Of all the episodes, by the way” Amy chimed in.

“Yes, girls, of course, I'm happy”, you replied with a smile. “I am a bit nervous and overwhelmed. It's going to be a year-long project, surrounded by a considerable number of people, that might include some famous individuals whose crazy egos I definitely don't enjoy working with.'

“But hey, you’re not a jane doe honey” Jenny added.

You went on to explain the challenges of dealing with ego driven actors. 'I don't even know what the Game of Thrones guy is like in real life, we only spoke via Zoom. He's an actor; he could portray niceness on screen and be difficult in real life. We all know that's a possibility.'

Jenny and Maria appeared surprised or apprehensive you couldn’t understand the reason, so you kept going, 'He's an actor; he can pretend to be nice and be a dick off-screen; we all know this can happen.'

“Girl… just…” Amy interjected, her expression showing concern.

'What?!” You interrupted her “ Amy, I'm not lying... I'll have to talk to him a lot,' you retorted, visibly frustrated by the thought.

"Stop!”, she continued.

“Why?” Judging by the expression on the girls' faces, you knew you had messed something up. Were the HBO executives present? Where anyone that shouldn’t be there listening to you? Damn it.

Resignation.

This time, Jenny spoke in a hushed tone, “By the 'Game of Thrones' guy, you mean the one sitting right behind you?” She attempted to maintain calm so you would’t crack. She said something else, but you were so flustered that you couldn't make out her words or anyone else's. Should you turn around to face the person behind you? Should you chuckle and say you were joking? Should you just...

“Well, I assure you I'm not a dick, even if someone who doesn't know me may think so,” a male voice behind you interjected. Damn the Game of Thrones guy.

You turned to face him, and he continued, “Hi, pleased to meet you in person, award winner sound coordinator. Well… I'm the Game of Thrones guy, or Pedro, whichever you prefer.” His words made you reflect on how snob you must have sounded. He had heard everything. You felt awful.

“Oh, well, pleased to meet you in person too, Pedro! I didn’t…” You struggled to form a coherent sentence in your head. Damn, he smelled good. “My name is... um… I am…” Nothing seemed to make sense in your mind anymore. Why say your name when you had spoken to him before?

“Never mind,” he said, smiling. “I know your name and who you are. We met before. By the way, I'm a huge fan of your work.” He knew how to be cirurgical yet polite, which made you chuckle, even though you just wanted to vanish.

Pedro was undeniably good-looking, not exactly your cup of tea, but you couldn't deny his charm. The way he responded to your stupid remarks made him seem more intriguing. You felt a bit woozy. What had you gotten yourself into?

“Pedro, I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m sorry,” you apologized, attempting to clarify. “I'm terrible with names.” You were being honest. Now he appeared more serious, and your voice began to tremble. “I mean... I'm only making things worse, aren't I?”

“A little bit,” he chuckled softly, sounding genuine. Glancing over his shoulder, you noticed a beautiful brunette lady at the other end of the table. You waved, receiving a forced smile in return. Back to Pedro. Stop behaving like a teenager. Pull yourself together. Jenny said something, but you didn't catch it. Keep. It. Together.

"I guess I'm the one who came off as a jerk... I know I sounded pretentious, and I apologize," you began, finding your voice. "I've had some really bad experiences with certain actors and their egos, so I was worried you might be like them… so i…" All those therapy sessions seemed to be paying off; he was listening to you, paying attention not only to your words but also to your uncomfortable gestures. You pushed past the discomfort and continued, "I'm truly sorry. I didn't mean to offend you." Your voice dropped to almost a whisper in the last sentence.

"So you might want to think twice before mentioning someone’s name in a private restaurant in Los Angeles, don't you think?" He spoke with a hint of irony, almost provocatively. You took the bait.

"Not tha-" You were about to respond when Jenny interjected, "Hey! I believe Pedro here has a date to attend to, right buddy?" He nodded smiling, and Maria chimed in, "And you, girl, promised us a night out and turned it into a work-related gathering." Those girls were true diplomats.

"I don’t want to take up any more of your time, Pedro," you said, maintaining a serious expression as you locked eyes with his dark gaze, your usual impenetrable poker face firmly in place.

"Never mind," he replied. "By the way-"

"Hey babe, do you want to call your friends to join us?" the attractive lady accompanying him interjected, her tone dripping with irony.

"It won't be necessary," Maria retorted, clearly annoyed. She was hungry, and anyone who knew her understood how irritable she could get when hunger struck. You KNEW she was on the verge of losing her cool.

"I'm sorry for this disruption; we didn't mean to interrupt your date, guys."

"Sorry... you do seem to like that word, don't you?" The pretty brunette girl knew how to be ironical.

"Yeah, thanks for the heads up," you responded, laughing almost manically and subtly holding Maria back, knowing she was on the brink of saying something that could have gotten all four of you kicked out of the restaurant. Jenny steered you to another table far away from them, while Amy engaged the waiter in conversation. Your hands felt as cold as ice.

"See you soon, sound coordinator... oops, AWARD-winning sound coordinator," he said with a chuckle as he returned to his table. "Hopefully, we can prove to each other that we're nice people."

"I'm looking forward to it... Game of Thrones guy." You waved and smiled more than necessary as you both returned to your respective dinner conversations.

You replayed this encounter in your mind all the way home. How could he not be angry with you? There were still a few months until filming begins, and yet you felt an unfamiliar sense of anxiety creeping in. Opening your door, you continued to mull over his ironic parting words: "Hopefully, we can prove to each other that we're nice people," you repeated with a grin.

"Well, I suppose we'll have to wait and see.” You said.

Wait. And. See.

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedrohub #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x female reader

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anneapocalypse · 5 months

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I have really complex feelings about the idea (often implied or tacitly agreed to be true even when it's not stated outright) that realism in sex scenes (and specifically sex scenes in fanfiction because that's what I'm thinking about) is always preferable and desirable. That it's always better to be more realistic, and any kind of unrealistic or fictionalized portrayals of sex are inferior--or in some cases, worthy of contempt and an indication of the inexperience/immaturity/poor writing skills of the author.

I have mixed feelings about it because I do think there's a place for realism. There are things that add realism to sex scenes that I really enjoy. I enjoy watching certain characters communicate their desires and negotiate activities. In some scenarios I like seeing characters employ safer sex practices like barriers. I will always enjoy when an author takes the time to figure out a form of lubrication that's appropriate and believable in the setting! I can even enjoy when a character gets up to pee after sex before returning to bed to cuddle; it's a very human touch to the scene that can itself be comforting and enjoyable to read. I like it when people who have experience with certain types of sex create helpful guides to writing those things, offering details you might not think of or know about if you haven't had that type of sex. It gives authors more to work with! It's a tool. Realism is a tool, and one that can absolutely enrich scenes and make them more interesting and fun to read.

And at the same time, something really does rub me the wrong way when I see posts that express contempt for a realism gap in fanfiction and imply that anyone writing it that way must be a) stupid, b) inexperienced (while kind of implying that writing about sex when you haven't had sex is inherently a problem, which I object to fundamentally), and c) completely unaware that what they're writing isn't realistic, which kind of points back to A. It's less on the nose than it would have been like ten years ago, when a lot more people were willing to just come right out and mock "stupid girls writing stupid fanfic" (and all the assumptions that go along with that) but still... that tone lingers. I won't even get into some of the smug posts that used to circulate about anal sex that ended up coming across as "don't you know anal sex is GROSS" in a way that was kind of lowkey homophobic, intentionally or not. Nor am I going to get into the prevalence of queer people telling other queer people they're doing queerness Wrong (in fanfiction, in original writing, in life in general).

To bring a personal angle to this, I'm a nearly-40-year-old bisexual cis woman, married and monogamous, chronically ill, and with some lifelong undefined sensory issues that I don't have any kind of diagnosis for so I'll just call them that. For me personally, due mostly to sensory issues and some physiological quirks, sex can take a lot of energy. Sometimes it's just a lot of work! That doesn't mean I don't want it or enjoy it, or that my partner is failing in some way; I have an active and fun sex life with a very thoughtful and caring partner (and I am not looking for advice on this post, so let's not get sidetracked). There's just challenges! And sometimes I wish my own body made it easier!

So sometimes, when I'm writing smut which is definitionally for fun and primarily for me and my own enjoyment, I find myself caught between: do I want to make this character's experience of sex very realistic in a way that's relatable to me? or do I just want to indulge in the fantasy of sex being easy and low-effort?

At this very moment I'm having difficulty answering that question about some things! There's pros and cons to both, and I don't think either one is wrong. Because at the end of the day, my own enjoyment is the goal of this piece of fiction. It's self-indulgence either way. No matter what I write, these pixel people I'm writing about are not real and their sex scenes are still a fantasy. It's just a question of what kind of fantasy I want to indulge in.

There was a good post I saw recently about the fact that a lot of problematic tropes are problematic not inherently but by scale--in other words, because their prevalence reinforces ideas and narratives harmful to specific groups. And I will be the first to acknowledge that even in the realm of fanfiction--a sphere with relatively low impact on the culture at large--it can be frustrating to constantly run into the same tropes that we find unrelatable or just plain unenjoyable, whether it's rigid top/bottom roles or easy vaginal orgasms. I don't want to come across as like, scolding anyone for just being annoyed, or venting about that sort of thing. It's fine. Some people's forms of self-indulgence are irritating to me, and my self-indulgence is undoubtedly annoying to someone else. I also want to reiterate that talking about what is and isn't realistic in the context of fiction is fine and good and there's absolutely a place for it, and that I enjoy a lot of elements of realism in fiction. I just also want to leave room for fiction to be fantasy. I think that's okay. And everyone's gauge for just how much realism is enjoyable is going to be different. I think that's fine too.

#well that got long!#writing stuff #talking about fanfiction smut sex some real life stuff

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darkdrin6 · 9 months

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Hi.

It's no longer a secret that NRS is just abominably treating Bi-Han in the new game, and the more materials appear, the more we are outraged. This man was the embodiment of the tragedy and injustice of the life of an assassin, he did not do the most righteous deeds, but it could not be said that he was devoid of honor or at least some compassion. Bi-Han was just doing his job, it was something he had been used to all his life, and he didn't know any other life than the one the clan gave. And now, from a man with a gray morality, he turns into a flat villain who gets punched in the face in the very first chapter. Thank you, NRS, but you made Tanya, the main traitor of the series, noble. A luxurious solution, just ten out of ten.

And in fact, we feel the need to somehow protect and justify Bi-Han. Yes, of course, we most likely will not get at least some clear motivation for his actions, except for POWER. And, perhaps, more POWER. But this man deserved something more than just the flat motivation of some petty villain for one episode. There are too many antagonists in MK who want POWER, so this is already some kind of bad taste.

(We will not consider Bi-Han from the MK 2021 movie as a worthy motivation, because he also does not have a clear motive. He wants to cut out Hanzo's entire bloodline because he wants to cut out Hanzo's entire bloodline, and there's no explanation for it at all.)

What if we suggest you look at Bi-Han's situation from a certain angle? Consider it a fanon, a random idea, anything that will help us justify and protect this person, we don't care, we will fight for him.

So… How about the fact that Bi-Han's downfall is entirely his father's fault?

Yes, we remember that their father, an unnamed previous grandmaster, is still portrayed as a noble man who loved his sons and even adopted the orphan Tomas, who lost his parents due to the actions of his people. It sounds even too good for someone who leads a clan of assassins in the service of his homeworld.

Such a person must have a certain self-control, such is his life, and this is required by his duties to his clan and the Earthrealm.

Let's remember that Lin Kuei is still a clan of assassins, a secret organization (or at least moderately secretive). Were Bi-Han and Kuai abducted from their mother, as in the original? Most likely, yes. Did the grandmaster feel guilty for this, because he deprived his children of their mother? It is quite possible that yes. But he has a duty to his clan, and his children are primarily a valuable resource. Yes, this is a cruel approach, and what kind of father could put up with it? But when a person is pressed by such strong obligations, he has to put up with it. From the extended scene, we can know that the previous Grandmaster saw the clan's path in service, which was probably part of his views too. And here you can go to the next point.

There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Bi-Han, as the eldest son, had always been regarded as the Grandmaster's heir. Is there any logic in this? Yes. In the clan, as we understand it, the primacy is passed from father to son, and traditionally the older children become the heirs.

What did this mean for Bi-Han himself? Probably a very special attitude. Realizing that his son would have to carry not the simplest burden, the Grandmaster had been preparing him for this since early childhood. He was stricter and colder with him than with Kuai, because Kuai is the youngest child, he should be an ally of his brother, not the head of the clan. Seeing the unequal treatment, Bi-Han felt jealous and tried to earn his father's attention with his successes. But the more he succeeded, the more was demanded of him. Trying to raise a worthy heir from his son, the Grandmaster unknowingly broke his life from the very beginning. Feeling the pain of being so cruel to his son, but unable to back down, the Grandmaster accepted Tomas into the family and gave him father's unspent love. For Bi-Han, who was desperately trying to be better and achieve a better result for the sake of his father's recognition, it was like being ousted from his own family, replaced by someone else.

His whole life was devoted to serving the clan. Bi-Han grew up with the idea that one day he would lead the clan, that this was the meaning of his existence. All his efforts, efforts, sufferings, everything he went through, were only for the clan that all this was not in vain. His unconditional devotion to Lin Kuei was encouraged, and everything that could distract from this goal was ruthlessly eliminated, leaving only the clan and its goals in Bi-Han's life.

It's not easy to become the best, but he has become. The years had honed his skills, his upbringing had instilled in him unconditional loyalty to Lin Kuei, all his aspirations from now on were directed at the clan and its greatness. For Bi-Han, the clan meant everything, was his whole life. He lived for this purpose.

But seeing how bitter the son was, and realizing that he had gone too far, the Grandmaster said that the head of the clan would not be Bi-Han, but Kuai.

Was it a cruel betrayal? Yes. Bi-Han was literally robbed of his life, the meaning of his existence. Father devalued in one moment everything that he had experienced, what he valued, for which he tried and suffered.

Did he kill his father in anger for the way he just threw years of his life into the trash? It is possible that yes. After all, this man trained him, made him what Bi-Han is now. It was his father who ruined his life, trying to raise the perfect warrior for the clan. The death of the previous Grandmaster finally tied Bi-Han to the clan. His whole life, his personality, his whole world was locked in the interests of Lin Kuei. Because while Lin Kuei is succeeding, Bi-Han is not living in vain.

His fanaticism and his irritation with his father and brothers (to be honest, with everyone in general) could easily be explained by such a development of events. Of course, the studio will not allow itself to outline something like this and probably will not give any explanations at all, so we will prefer to stick to this version of events. In the end, it would make at least some sense.

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tumblrisweird · 9 months

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Crash Course on Lancer, the best TTRPG

I've been obsessed with Lancer lately, so I thought I'd put together a quick and dirty crash course on the key aspects of the system so people could see if it interests them.

Basics:

Lancer is a ttrpg system "centered on shared narratives, customizable mechs, and the pilots who crew them"

It is co-created by the author of the webcomic Kill Six Billion Demons, who also provides some of the official illustrations

The mech design is primarily inpired by Titanfall, but there is a wide variety and plenty of options available to suit your taste.

Mechanically, it's most similar to D&D 5e, but with major improvements (imho).

The game and community are super inclusive of BIPOC and LGBTQ+ people.

Lore:

Lancer takes place in our universe, but several thousand years in the future

in the near future, human society collapses due to all the shit going on. ten generation ships are sent out to colonize space, but contact with them is soon lost as everything on Earth goes tits up and humanity enters a dark age for almost 5000 years

Eventually, humanity on Earth comes back, creates Union, and returns to space and tries to contact those generation ships, a few of which have founded new civilizations in deep space. Relations with these civilizations doesn't go great.

Union also finds a weird super-robot-mind-thing old humanity built on Mars, which lets them predict the future. After about a thousand years, it ends up producing a sort of super-AI called RA (I will get into this later).

The above event also lets Union develop FTL tech (using something called Blinkspace).

In the process of expansion, humanity runs into its first (and so far only) sentient alien race. Things go bad very quickly. The people in charge do very bad things and for this end up being overthrown. This is also when mechs first start getting used for combat.

A new committee in charge of Union takes over and has a strong anti-colonial, humanitarian ethic. This however is harder to reinforce the further you are from Earth (now called Cradle by some)

Some of the still independent civilizations and mega-corporations get in some fights. Union tries to keep the peace. This is where we are now.

So there are two different types of AIs in Lancer.

The first kind are regular AIs which can act human but don't really have free will. They can be found all over the place.

The second kind are called NHPs (Non-Human Persons). These (mostly) came from that super-AI called RA I mentioned above. Their basic consciousness is "paracausal" (i.e. magic), so they have to be "shackled" to be able to even think like a regular human. They can often do really powerful things. They are hard to get and heavily regulated because they become really dangerous if they get unshackled.

Player Characters

Character creation in Lancer is incredibly fun. There's two main aspects of a character: the pilot and the mech

Pilots

The pilot is who you control during narrative scenes. While they can do combat, they generally are not suited for it, especially against mechs.

You can choose a background for your character, but this is purely flavor.

You get some "triggers", which are different skills you get bonuses in to use in narrative scenes. Default triggers include things like "lead or inspire", "read a situation", "apply fists to faces", "hack or fix" and many others. You can also create custom triggers (with your GM's permission). These are what you use for narrative scenes. You start with +2 to 4 different triggers and get another +2 at each level

You also get to choose things like armor, pilot weapons, and three pieces of equipment.

One expansion also adds a mechanic called "Bonds" which are like character archetype powers. These encourage you to roleplay more.

Mechs

You also have a certain number of "Talents" which help in mech combat. Each talent has 3 tiers and focus on things like using certain weapons or fighthing certain ways (e.g. grappling, spotting, hacking, etc.). You start with three tier-1 talents and get another tier each level.

Levels are referred to as "License Levels". You start at LL0, but this doesn't mean you can't do anything. You have access to the starter mech frame, which is a very good all-rounder. You may also have access to two more if you have certain expansions.

Mechs have two main sets of health: actual HP and "Heat". You get heat mostly by being hacked or using heat-generating weapons. Each player mech also has 4 points each of Structure and Stress, which correspond to these two sets of health. When your HP hits zero or your Heat goes above its max, you lose a point of Structure or Stress, respectively. You will also suffer other consequences like status effects or losing parts of your mech. If either hits zero, your mech gets destroyed (though this doesn't necessarily kill your pilot, and you can rebuild your mech). Also having 50% or more of your max heat means you're in the Danger Zone, which may let you do certain things.

Mechs will have a certain number of SP (system points), which you use to add different systems, equipment that gives you abilities and bonuses.

You also get to put points into 4 different "Mech Skills": Hull, which affects HP and physical stability, Agility, which affects speed and evasion (the thing enemies roll against to hit (most of the time)), Systems, which affects hacking ability and SP, and Engineering, which affects Heat management and ammo. You get another point each level.

There's other stats as well like Armor, Sensors, E-Defense, and Save Target, but I won't get into them now.

Mech's also have a certain number of weapon mounts, which determine what kind of weapons you can attach to it. The four weapon sizes are Auxiliary, Main, Heavy, and Superheavy. Most of the mount types match a specific weapon size. The only exception is Flex, which lets you mount one Main or two Aux. Also for a Superheavy, you need a heavy mount plus one other mount.

Player mechs come in 4 sizes: 1/2 (basically a suit of power armor), 1 (just big enough where a person could sit in the chest cockpit), 2 (much bigger than a person, about the size of heavier Titanfall mechs), and 3 (fucking huge, though maybe not quite as big as the mechs in Pacific Rim). NPCs can be even bigger. :)

This set of memes is a great way to get the idea behind several mechs.

While most mechs have a default appearance, they're highly customizable, and there are a couple of exceptions. Most Horus mechs have no default appearance, and the starting mech, the Everest, has no canon appearance, meaning it can look however you want.

EDIT: forgot to mention, every mech has a Core Power that you can use once per mission (usually). It typically gives you access to a really cool weapon or ability or otherwise powers up the mech for the rest of the scene.

Levels/Classes

Ever notice how in 5e, multiclassing kinda sucks unless you have a very specific thing in mind? That's not at all true in Lancer!

In addition to the stuff mentioned above, each LL you get to gain one level in the license for a certain mech! You can think of these as similar to classes.

Each level gets you two specific pieces of equipment from that license, generally either weapons or systems. Additionally, at the second level for a license, you get access to the mech frame.

Each license only has 3 levels to get, so you are very much encouraged to mix and match. Additionally, you gain levels at a more even rate than in 5e. Basically it's a milestone system I will explain later.

There are 4 manufacturers to choose from, each with a default of 7 licenses to choose from (more with expansions). ISP-N mechs are sturdy, reliable, and mundane. Smith-Shimano mechs are sleek, agile, and precise. Harrison Armory mechs are powerful and good at dealing with/using Heat. Horus mechs are extra weird and fucked-up.

Each session will generally consist of a few different "scenes", often including one combat scene. There may also be one "downtime" scene (usually at the beginning or end), which is sorta like a short rest. You can make limited repairs and change out equipment, as well as pursuing personal goals. A few sessions together constitute a "mission". After a mission, you get a level and can do a full repair, which is like a long rest. Get all your resources back and can completely rebuild a destroyed mech (or make a new one).

Action Economy

Each turn the player can take the following actions:

One Protocol (generally granted by a system, only at the beginning of the turn)

A standard movement, which can be taken in part or all at once.

Two Quick Actions or one Full Action

Quick Actions are things like Boost (take another full movement), Skirmish (attack with one weapon mount), Hack, Hide, Grapple, Ram, and Lock On.

Full actions are things like Stabilize (clear all heat or heal HP), Disengage, and Barrage (attack with two mounts or one Superheavy mount).

One Reaction, which can be taken on other characters turns when activated. The two default reactions are Overwatch (skirmish against an enemy that starts a movement in your threat range, which is 1 by default but more with some melee weapons or CQB weapons) and Brace (reduce damage from an incoming attack and be harder to hit, at the cost of losing actions on your next turn).

One Overcharge, where you take increasing amounts of heat to get another quick action.

There may also be certain systems or talents that grant certain Free Actions under certain circumstance

Combat

Combat in general is very fun, though a full round of turns may take half an hour or more. In my experience, most combat scenes are over within 8 rounds.

Using your systems and abilities in cooperation with your teammates is very important to surviving.

Of note is that getting advantage on a roll is much rarer than in 5e.

Much more common is Accuracy or Difficulty. Each point of Accuracy is an extra d6 you roll to add as the accuracy bonus. You pick the highest of your accuracy rolls to add as the bonus. Difficulty is the same except you are subtracting the number from the roll instead of adding it. For example, Lock-On lets you add an accuracy to a roll, but soft and hard cover add 1 and 2 difficulty respectively. Also points of accuracy and difficulty cancel each other out, which reduces the amount of rolling you have to do. So if your weapon has +1 accuracy but your target is behind hard cover, you roll the attack with 1 difficulty.

Resources:

you can get the core rulebook (minus npc info and detailed lore) for free here

here's the official fan-run discord server. it is very helpful for finding games that are looking for players and talking about the game.

You can use the official app called COMP/CON to build and manage characters. I fucking love making character in this. It makes things super easy and fun. You can also download .lcp files for various expansions to play around with the stuff they add as well. These are available for free for the official expansion, meaning players can play with extra stuff from expansions without needing to buy them.

In conclusion, Lancer is a great system that you should give a shot to if any of the above sounds appealing.

#lancer #lancer rpg #lancer ttrpg

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moonshine-nightlight · 2 years

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Nothing's Wrong with Dale: Part Twelve

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing's Wrong with Dale Chapter 12

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six][Part Seven] [Part Seven.5] [Part Eight][Part Nine][Part Ten][Part Eleven] Part Twelve [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two] [Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four] [Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six] [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] [Part Thirty] [Part Thirty-One] [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

It’s surprising how quickly the tournament and festival grounds between the estate and the supporting town went from a rather bare patch of land near the estate to this bustling and populous collection of tents and people.

The weather is even fair, none of the humidity that can sometimes start early as spring bleeds into summer.

While the galas in the city will be the wedding celebration for those of the middle and upper classes who were not invited to the wedding proper, this festival is the primary public celebration for the common people of Northridge, although plenty of guests who’ve already arrived are joining in.

You’ve never been to a fair of this caliber. Your family estates were a sprawling country house with very little town outside of the estate itself and your housing in the port city where most of your fief lived. You expect a sprawling country festivals to be a different sort than city ones—in some ways at least. The frivolity and wonderful smells and general atmosphere are the same, but there is more space and less permanence to it all.

Still, as with those city ones you attended with your family, you itch to explore on your own, not be stuck at the ceremonial high table—as wonderful as your meal has been. You eye Dale and notice the way he finally seems to have eaten his fill and hope no one notices that he’s had an entire turkey to himself.

Without meaning to, your eyes drift to his clothed arm and side, his now practically invisible cut on his forehead. People seem to believe that the speed at which Dale seems to be healing from the hunt only a couple days ago is merely a sign that the injuries had looked worse than they were. Dale himself is playing into that idea, as well as giving your bandages more credit than they likely deserve. Although at least the doctor is throwing his weight behind that supposition, having eventually been able to treat Dale without getting his head bitten off—figuratively or literally, of course.

Despite Dale’s injury due to the hunting incident, he’s still competing in the tournament which starts tomorrow. The only change in deference to the incident is that the lists were adjusted and the timing of who went up against who was tweaked, leaving Dale in the final group of competitors, rather than him drawing lots with the others. This leaves him with the maximum amount of time to recover. The physician had insisted that such an allowance be made and Grandmother had backed him up wholeheartedly.

You’re glad Dale didn’t push this allowance, both because you were worried about his physical condition, and if he could even properly assess it, in addition to your worry that someone would notice his faster than usual recovery. With both of those fears primarily assuaged at this point which leaves you with one primary concern. The tales told of the boar incident have been told and retold as these tales often are and while everyone knew such things happened, there was a level of admiration that made you uncomfortable.

In particular, the emphasis on Dale wrestling with the creature, how long he was able to cling to its back. That makes you worry about the very public martial tournament he’s about to compete in. In front of any early wedding guests, local townsfolk, and those who travel just to compete, Dale is going to fight and you’re rather worried he’s going to demonstrate some sort of supernatural strength—let alone any other abilities, if pushed.

These tournament displays are already notorious for their ‘accidents’, although how any of it can be considered an accident when the entire point is to attack one another with minorly blunted weapons while wearing a facsimile of armor is beyond you. You’ve never enjoyed them, perhaps because you were never able to attend until you were old enough to grasp the danger the competitors were in. Obviously anyone could get injured during typical training or practice, but these tournaments are on a different level. Everyone knows someone’s cousin or neighbor or whoever that had been permanently injured or worse in some similar display.

And to think some people like how dangerous they are, finding them more prestigious than something safe. Original Dale was certainly one of those types—thoroughly believing in both his own skill and with the strong conviction of someone young, who’d never had their body betray them, that that sort of incident happened to other people, not him. Now, your concern is that Dale will end up backed into a corner and in the heat of the moment give himself away—or as you said, from the beginning be unable to gauge his own strength. Even if initial suspicion is roused only regarding him having enhanced his abilities with illegal demonic supplements can only spell the end. Too many of the ways to detect such things overlap with those to detect possession.

You hope during the first few rounds of the tournament or perhaps even witnessing some of the various fair games will help Dale develop a better sense of what the typical human strength is. That is, if Grandfather ever lets you out of his sight.

You’d hoped with two of his children here, Wellington and Breighton, that he would be sufficiently occupied, but he and Grandmother seem determined to include you and Dale, which is actually very kind of them, at least on Grandmother’s part. Grandfather is acting mostly normal, but his eyes are too sharp on both Dale and you for you to trust his regard anymore. Grandmother is content to hold court at this dais table, talking with her children and other grandchildren, picking on food, for the rest of day—she’d told you as much her self. Grandfather seems more ready to walk to the various games and booths now that the most recent performance is over, but you’d rather not have him along.

It’s Dale who finds the right opening, as one of his cousins—and his three children—begs Grandfather to accompany them to the falconers’ competition on the other side of the fair. Dale resists the invitation to join them, claiming to want to continue his conversation with Grandmother. Then he lets her get distracted by someone else.

Before you know it, your arm is in his and you’re heading in the opposite direction from Grandfather.

Dale smiles down at you. “As happy as I am to speak with my family, there is so much else to do. I hope you do not mind my pulling us away—I simply have to walk around or else I’m liable to fall asleep after such food.”

You smile up at him, with how much of it he put away, you’re not surprised. “I agree. I’ve never had lamb cooked that way before, but we should see if Cook Ubrey can obtain the recipe.”

Dale seems pleased to talk about the food, comparing them with dishes he enjoyed on his travels. He wants to see if they can get some of those prepared in Northridge, he explains as you stroll by the various sellers that line the ramshackle lanes of the festival. All the townsfolk seem to have dredged their inventories to put their very best wares on display and the displays are eye catching—for all you follow your mothers rule of these festivals which cover multiple days: never buy anything on the first day. Part of her many lessons on being frugal, they had started when you were first permitted out of the house and to the marketplaces with a small allowance.

Dale has no such rule, but he seems as happy looking at things as he does actually purchasing items—only acquiring a new handkerchief and gloves. Instead, his eyes stray towards the games and sport more than anything. There are a mix of group, partner, and individual games, all with far more space to play than you’re used to, especially as you get closer to the outskirts of the grounds. Long ranges for archery and hammer throwing, are in the distance, but even nearby, the ring toss and horseshoe lanes have far more space to them than you’re used to.

You end up stopped by the horseshoe stall, watching a pair of brothers compete with more and more specific and ridiculous insults tossed between them. They’re drawing an entertained crowd of onlookers.

You notice the way Dale has a considering look on his face as the men throw the horseshoes and you try to evaluate their ability as well. “They seem like strong competitors,” you say with a nod toward the other horseshoes littered around and in particular on the ground before the stake. “Although it appears as though many underestimated the weight of the shoe and couldn’t reach the stake at first.”

Dale’s eyes narrow and then dart to the third lane, where a woman is attempting to ignore the crowd around the other two to make her throws. Sure enough, on her first throw, the shoe doesn’t go nearly far enough. “Yes, so it would appear. These two look strong though, not blacksmiths, but perhaps carpenters.”

You look the men over. Everyone is wearing, while perhaps not their best clothes, but certainly not their everyday clothes for the festival. That made it harder to tell what exactly people’s profession might be whereas wear and tear, stains, and so on would usually help point you in one direction or another. “Perhaps.” You watch as the older brother rings a second horseshoe around the stake to tie with the younger one.

“Accuracy seems to be more important than strength though,” Dale observes.

On cue the younger brother’s next pitch goes too far past the stake earning him a heckle from his brother about getting overexcited.

“Yes,” you agree. “That is a fair assessment. However, you don’t want to throw too hard or it might bounce off the stake regardless of your aim.”

Dale nods and you chat as the brothers continue to play until finally the older brother wins with a final ringer. He accepts his prize of a bag of horse bristles and a round of drinks bet from his brothers.

“Do you want to play a round?” you ask Dale, when he continues to look at the game and with the brothers gone, the crowd is drifting away. Perhaps this could be a good way for him to evaluate his own strength and accuracy. Low stakes, but with convenient comparables from a wide range of people.

Dale eyes the iron stake in the ground, the past throws which litter the ground around it, and the steel horseshoes in the bucket. “Yes,” he says slowly. “I’ve not played… in many years, I mean. When I was a child.”

You hope he sounds more natural when talking with his family. Perhaps you should be glad only Grandfather seems suspicious after all.

“Then it seems as though you are due to play once more,” you say and he smiles at you in response.

You both make your way over to the man running the booth and he readily accepts the coin Dale gives him with a grin. When Dale admits to not playing in a number of years, the man is quick to give him pointers and you feel yourself relax. Games and good food, even the weather cooperating, this is shaping up to be a fine day. You hadn’t realized how nervous you’d gotten under Grandfather’s watchful and suspicious eye—or even just the eyes of all the visitors and those who’d glance at the dais during the festival.

Some look your way, but it's easier to be anonymous, to be seen more generally at least, mixed in with the crowd as you roam. You’ve missed that about the city and this festival, for all its clear country trappings, is able to recapture that feeling.

Dale seems to have paid enough to have received horseshoes for a few innings and you stand nearby to watch, leaning against a fencepost. Dale’s frowning in concentration, dark eyes intent. His first throw arcs from the left to the right a bit too sharply and contrary to the others. He seems to have over compensated for the weight, resulting in the horseshoe going out of bounds past the stake.

The game runner is quick to tease Dale, but it's nothing too out of the ordinary. He gets better at straightening out his arc as he goes and while the horseshoes continue to go too far, he’s getting closer and closer to the stake.

It’s not until he’s left with just one more pitch that it goes wrong. Just as Dale is only starting to get ready to throw, a loud noise—likely a firecracker set off too soon–cracks through the air. You jump where you stand and a number of those around you swear, but your eyes are on Dale. He flinches and pitches his last horseshoe without thought instinctively.

The horseshoe flies at the stake and you already know it's been thrown with far too much force, especially given the lack of significant windup. Even more unfortunately, it's the most accurate throw yet. It strikes the stake soundly with a clang louder than any previous ringers. You flinch from the sound and the way the stake is pushed, rather than the shoe ringing around it. The stake ends up levering out of the ground entirely, sending a clod of dirt and grass into the ground and landing with a metallic thud.

Well, you think, so much for an easy way to help Dale reign in and evaluate how much strength a typical human has without anyone taking note.

The man in charge of the stall and the few onlookers stare in silence before a child claps. Dale winces. You’re inordinately grateful that too many had been distracted by the sound and didnt notice what happened. Still, some murmurs break out as the stall owner starts to say something, turning to frown at Dale in confusion and then closes his mouth. He recovers after a few seconds, saying, “Stake must have gotten loose, jostled by the other competitors.” He looks uncomfortable and somewhat disbelieving even as he continues, “Apologies, mi’lord. Still, a mighty impressive throw.”

Dale inclines his head in thanks for the compliment as you decide it’d be best if you moved on from here before anyone thought overmuch about what just happened. As soon as possible. “I believe I see a vendor with wine, my lord. I find myself rather thirsty in this heat.”

“Of course, my lady,” Dale agrees easily.

Neither of you chose to speak of what just happened. Dale ends up talking about the wine you purchase and comparing it to some he came across on his travels. You hope he’s only mentioning places Dale visited, but you’re not well traveled enough to know for sure.

You pass other games as you walk around, picking up some nibbles along the way as you both try to relax. You pass a few more games, but Dale seems reluctant to give any of them a try and you don’t feel comfortable encouraging him either. You’ve never understood the point of some anyways. You eye two blindfolded women trying to catch a chicken in a pen in particular. Many seem to be for the watchers' amusements rather than for the ones playing.

You end up watching a children’s small boat race and following along with the river around the eastern edge of the grounds for some cooler air. While the weather is fair, there are far too many people in such a confined area for it not to get warm. You end up circling back to some of the larger, more martial games, skirting the wrestling ring to find yourself at tug o’ war with the offshoot stream as the halfway marker. It’s the middle of a match, with an hourglass signaling plenty of time before a tie has to be called and the scoreboard showing two to one for those on the farther side of the stream.

Both sides are trying to recruit from the growing crowd and the divide seems to be those from the town proper and those who work on the estate itself. With those from the estate down a point. You determine that the first to make it to three victories wins the large coin purse, filled by those who paid to compete.

You stop to watch as the estate team loses further ground, cursing some who evidently took a break for some ale and haven’t returned—they do have notably fewer players. A laundress from the estate joins in, her arm strength winning them at least a foot on the onset, but the teams seem even enough that a young man drops out at his father’s bidding from the town side with no loss of ground on their end.

You narrow your eyes trying to see if you can name or at least place each member of the estate team. While the estate has many workers and none of these are in their uniforms, but you’ve been here long enough you should be able to at least guess at their position based on familiarity. Grandfather and Grandmother always address their servants by name and you want to do your part to show you’re a worthy successor, with the same attention to detail they have.

You’ve identified two footmen, a scullery maid, the laundress who joined most recently, a carriage driver, and two guards when one of the people in the middle the rope spots Dale and grins at him.

“So kind of you to grace us with your presence, my lord,” he calls. You’re pretty sure he’s a stablehand, one you’ve seen Dale speak with before. He certainly seems familiar enough to be joking with him.

“You have something that can tempt me down from my tower, Micha?” Dale asks with a false imperiousness that matches Micha’s as you both drift closer to him.

“Only the very honor of your soon-to-be estate,” he replies with a grin, not moving an inch despite the other team trying to take advantage of what they see as his distraction by making conversation.

“I suppose that might be important enough, but you seem to be losing,” Dale points out, raising an eyebrow and nodding at the tally marks.

Micha rolls his eyes. “Yes, because Keyler and Tawny left to fetch Nair from wasting his time playing marbles and help us out. So now we’re down two and can’t afford to send anyone else after them.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Dale replies with a teasing glint in his eyes.

Micha sticks his tongue out like a child and Dale laughs. Then Micha’s eyes light up. “You could always lend us your immeasurable strength so we can muster the numbers we need to win.”

Dale falters at the suggestion, dubiously looking over the rope and the competitors.

“You can join at the end,” Micha says with a scoff, “Wouldn’t want your clothes to get too dirty.”

You’ve never been so grateful that Dale used to be so fussy about his clothes before, anything that lends plausibility to his reluctance to join in. You’re certain he’d take the opportunity to impress his superiority on others otherwise.

“Come on, D-milord,” Micha asks, wheedling, “help us out while Geoff hunts down the others.”

Tug o’ war seems very high risk to you, gambling on a bad hand, but maybe he’s learned from the horseshoes. With enough men here, perhaps any discrepancies in Dale’s strength won’t be obvious. Of course, it could be far more obvious instead, you think, shoulders tense.

His eyes dart to yours and he looks hopeful, earnest. You reluctantly hold out your hand, “Let me hold your cane and your coat.”

“Thank you, my Lady,” he says with a smile, handing them over and accepting the gloves handed to him so he doesn’t get rope burns.

The estate team decides to shuffle their whole order while the town team tries to take advantage of the movement. In the end, one of the guards dashes off to find those missing teammates Micha spoke of and Dale’s near the end of the line of people on this side of the river. He’s far enough from the mud per Micha’s offer in deference to his clothes, but not that far because the flag that marks the original middle of the rope has moved significantly closer to the other team’s side of the river.

You nibble your lip as you watch Dale try to sort out his footing amid the renewed shouting between teams. Without his cane and with all the shuffling, he's clearly not steady on his feet, despite the rope to hang onto the people in front and behind him on the rope.

You’re glad another wineseller is next door and help yourself to some more drink as you watch Dale struggle not to end up in the mud as another person joins the town team. By the time you’ve received it, Dale has settled into some sort of stance in between the jostling and movement of the rope as everyone on both teams has awoken from the tied lull to truly throw their backs into the competition.

Micha turns his head to face Dale and says, “Are you here, milord? Or have you gotten soft from all the travel and airs?” Dale stares at him for a moment before sticking his own tongue, pulling a startled laugh from him. “Then lose your perfect posture. Drop your weight and lean.”

Obligingly, Dale grits his teeth, dropping his stance and leaning at the same angle at the others. Micha glances back again and nods approvingly, “There you go, now you’re remembering.” He turns back to face forward and gives a whistle. “V! Let’s regain this ground!”

A kitchen hand at the front whistles back and counts down from five, her lighter voice cutting through the crowd and noise. On ‘two’, everyone on the estate team takes a step back with their left feet, hand tight on the rope to pull it with them. Dale’s out of sync and while he keeps up, it's clear he’s not contributing anything of particular help. The town teams are quick to pull back on their end and a few of the estate team reluctantly have to resettle their feet much closer together than initially planned.

“Again!”

This time, you count in your head and after four beats, the team tries again, leaning at an even deeper angle. This time, Dale’s ready for it. He pulls his own weight far better this time, getting a better feel for how much strength everyone else is using and with the timing correct that round.

The town is trying to arrange their own pulls in the lull between, but they’re not as organized and someone drops out, leaving them unbalanced.

The next pull has Dale's arms tighten further than before, the muscles obvious under his white linen shirt. Not only is he able to step back further, but so is everyone in front of him.

“There we go!” Micha cheers along with the others

Steadily, their team brings the flag back to the center of the stream, getting surer ground under their feet and working the other team up. Dale’s focus must seem like mere concentration on his grip and stance, but you bet it's him seeing just how much strength he can use. That first pull was a little too much in your estimation and Dale seems to agree as no other round to the retreat as much as that one.

By the time Geoff returns, you’ve finished your glass of wine and the flag is far closer to the estate team’s side of the stream bank. As they make room for them on the rope, Micha tries to entreat Dale to stick around. “See how much help you were able to provide, esteemed one?”

“I have done my duty,” Dale replies dryly, handing his gloves over to a rather intimidated looking man, clearly not expecting to be replacing the Northridge heir. “And I believe the team maximum is eight.”

“If you want to leave us for your fiance,” Micha volleys back, eyes darting to you, catching you by surprise. “Just say so.”

Dale smirks. “Would you not choose a lovely woman over mud?”

“No,” Micha replies cheekily with a wink at Dale. “No offense, milady.” You smile even as the others boo Micha and encourage Dale to go to you. The laundress goes as far as to tell Dale if he’ll not join you, she will. You can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks at such blatant flirting, even if it's obviously motivated by alcohol more than anything else and perhaps the novelty of joking with a lord.

“This is the gratitude I receive for lending you my aid,” Dale replies in the same theatrical manner as he and Micha seem to like to play at. “I see how it is and take my leave of you.”

He accepts his coat, pulling it back on, before taking his cane, his fingers warmer than usual when they brush yours. You leave as the newly bolstered estate team begins another round of heaving.

With the wine you’ve had and Dale’s good cheer buoying your spirits, you let yourself get cajoled into a game of ring toss. Strength, you only have a minimal amount, no matter the basic skills you’ve had lessons in—accuracy though, you’re a bit better with. That's about gauging your own ability, your own strength and the distance you need to cross. If you can see your target and it's not too far away, you're reasonably confident.

The weight of the rings is what you need to account for the most and you’re not discouraged when your first toss comes up short. Your second is even closer and your third neatly rings around the short pole. Dale tucks the blossom you win neatly behind your ear, the color complementing your gown and Dale complimenting you.

Passing the longbow ranges, Dale steers you towards the hammer throwing. He is quick to walk over to the table with the various spare hammers. The game runner is quickly gathering up competitors, aiming for five players, each with three hammers. The wood of the hammers is dyed to distinguish the different competitors so none can confuse who threw which.

“Do you mind, my Lady? I think I have this one,” he tosses the red hammer from his right to left, “well in hand.”

You can’t help the dry look you give him at the word play, “Very well.” While you’d initially consider this too high stakes after horseshoes since there is no target, just pure distance and therefore with nothing to reign him in, you trust he’s learned well from the tug o war game.

He lines up with the others while the game runner tries to fill the final two spots for this round. You linger at the fence, letting others peruse the hammers.

“My Lady?” You turn at the voice to find Steward Bilmont next to you.

“Steward,” you say with a smile before you notice how anxious he seems. “Is everything alright?”

His eyes dart from Dale lining up at the throw line to those nearby. “Yes, yes. Fine. Well, could I speak to you for a moment?”

“Of course,” you say and follow him down the fence until you're midway down the throwing lane, able to see but with no one particularly close by. “What’s happened? Something with—” Your eyes dart to your fiance.

Bilmont nods. “As we suspected, Lord Archibald did see something while on the hunt, something that has made him suspicious of Lord Dale—and you.”

Your heart lurches in your chest. “Me?”

“Yes, I overheard him speaking with Lady Breighton,” Bilmont explains in a low but urgent tone, eyes darting around for any who might overhear him now. “He thinks that you have bewitched Lord Dale.”

You stare at him, your thoughts still. You blink. “What?”

Bilmont nods again, more vigorously. “He thinks that Lord Dale either fell ill on his own or that perhaps even that was some manipulation of yours and that you used dark influences to help him recover.”

“What?” you repeat. You want to laugh. You’ve no experiences with dark influences except those that are now happening at Northridge because of Dale himself. “How? To what end?”

“To gain power over him,” Bilmont explains. “Lord Archibald is now suspicious that your… that how you present yourself is some sort of act. That you desired more control over Northridge than you believed Lord Dale would give you and so you’ve now done something to make him more responsive to you, more pliant to your manipulations.”

You inhale sharply at his words. That is… not good. “And he told Lady Breighton this?”

“Yes.” Although at that, Bilmont seems to lose some tension, saying, “The only good thing is that if he was looking for support for this theory, he did not find it.”

“Wait, truly?”

Bilmont nodded.

“But…” You frown in confusion. Breighton truly is as intimidating and intelligent as she had first seemed to you nor does she think particularly well of Dale. You’re surprised she isn’t siding with her father. “I thought given Lady Breighton’s general opinion of Dale and, well, I’m not certain what she thinks of me I suppose, but I was under the impression she found me rather…” Shy? Boring? Uninteresting? “…humble.”

Bilmont looks rather pained at that, almost sheepish, as he admits, “Yes, well, she does. That’s precisely why she doesn’t believe you would or could do something of this nature. She said she had seen no evidence of you having any particular knowledge or skill with demonic influences—and that she had met such individuals before. Additionally, she does not feel lord Dale is acting over all in character and views the discrepancies Lord Archibald noticed as either slight or evidence of maturing while abroad.

“Since she has had barely any interaction with Lord Dale for a number of years, she cannot compare his post abroad personality to his recent, ahem, change. She does claim to have met those possessed before and maintains Dale shows none of the classical signs, especially not given the time that has elapsed since the illness. Demonic influences she has less experience with, but as Lord Archibald has even less than her, she also said that you do not demonstrate the signs of such a practitioner.”

“Likely because I’m not,” you reply.

“She went so far as to say she’d believe Lord Dale had gotten mixed up in such demonics himself before you,” Belmont adds with a touch of incredulity at how close to the truth she is, “perhaps for power—to which Archibald took offense, saying Lord Dale would never be so foolish.

Belmont shrugs helplessly, “In the end, Lady Breighton could not be convinced of your involvement and Lord Archibald could not be convinced of Dale’s.”

“But Grandfather was not swayed by Lady Brighton’s argument either,” you deduce. That would be too easy.

“No, not primarily,” Bilmont replies, disappointment evident in his voice. “While I believe he was disappointed she did not see his side, he seemed more thoughtful than discouraged. He seems determined to prove his theory, or at least test it.”

“Oh good,” you can’t help yourself from saying. “Grandfather is going to try to prove I’m a demonic influencer and likely in doing so expose—” you cut yourself off, unwilling even in your agitation to say it aloud. “How does one even prove such a thing? He’s no demonic scholar or practitioner himself.”

“He did not say.”

“Of course not.”

A flash of red catches your eye and you realize it’s finally Dale’s turn at the hammer throw. You try to sort your thoughts as you watch his hammer land neatly in the middle of the other competitors, demonstrating ability, but nothing out of the ordinary. His next throw is only a few feet beyond that. His third is a good few feet beyond the others, but not remarkably so. There’s one more person still to throw, but you’d not be surprised if Dale won.

You’re glad Dale’s managed to regulate his strength correctly, but Grandfather is far too close to the truth for your comfort and you’ve no idea what to do about him. “Strategies?”

“I will keep you alert to anything else I might overhear and recommend you stay on your guard,” Bilmont replies after a moment’s silence.

“Yes,” you answer readily enough. It's becoming rather tiring though, to always be on your guard, vigilant to exposure. “Perhaps I can find something that might suggest what he’ll try. Nothing else to do but wait.”

A small cheer goes up from by the throwing line. You look over to see Dale is motioning to you and automatically you begin to walk back to the main table, Bilmont trailing behind you.

“My lady, come, see what I’ve won.” He cheerfully holds out a skillfully crafted hammerhead as well as a wreath of some kind. When he sees who’s with you, he raises his eyebrows. He's also not oblivious to the atmosphere surrounding the two of you, no matter how you try to hide it. “Steward Bilmont, is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes, of course my lord,” Bilmont says hurriedly. “Although I should be going. My apologies for distracting you from fun with trivialities, my Lady.”

“Of course, Steward,” you reply. Before Dale can ask, you accept the flower crown he holds out to you, fingers careful with the blossoms. “It’s lovely.” You spot the length of ribbon running through the wreath, likely the real prize.

When you go to hand it back, Dale pushes it back to you. “For you, my lady.”

“Oh. I thank you,” you reply, not sure how to place it. You’ve not worn such a crown since one spring equinox celebration when you were a girl. “Could you place it?”

Dale smiles, accepting it back. He reaches for you, motioning for you to incline your head. He carefully sets the crown on your head, adjusting it. Finally he leans back, eyes kind on you. “There. Perfect.”

Oh, how you wish that was closer to the truth than it is.

[Part Thirteen]

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eternasci · 17 days

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Anatomy of Writing

This is just an analysis on my writing style, my weaknesses, strengths, and other tidbits I've noticed over the ten years of my tumblr writing journey. I always strive to improve, which means acknowledging my banes and boons, as well as spots where I feel style has taken precedence over rules. I welcome others to do the same.

This is also littered with links (whether to my old blogs, or my current writing advice blog), so feel free to be nosy. I welcome input of any kind!

Epithets. My earliest (tumblr) writing can be found on my first roleplay blog, pintsizedpyro. By no means did I write the way I did now. On first glance, I utilized simplistic epithets heavily (e.g., "the girl", "the Korean", etc). I've strayed from this as a result of advice given (and also, a general dislike for how it cut into my writing). To this day, I believe I still typically avoid them if there is no deeper meaning. Whether this makes parsing my posts difficult is unknown to me; I have no issues when re-reading, though that's an obvious bias. I love ones with meaning; ones that typically coincide with a character's facets (e.g. using a title to demand authority rather than a simple first name, or calling a character, whose personality can be likened to a dog, a "hound"... you know who you are). Repetition. Similarly, I found repetition within my earliest attempts. It couldn't be helped, but I did notice and often attempted to revise statements in which I would experience overlapping of words even then (epithets being a big one; particularly, when paragraphs would condense and I'd see similar phrases stacked on top of each other, I wanted to kill someone). This is an inevitability at times; the dictionary has many words, but switching them around for the sake of prettying up a post can cause confusion. At the most, I would rewrite entire sentences to at least break up the distance between repeating offenders. This still happens today, but I am swift when it comes to recognizing and rewriting it out.

Length. We've all been there. Receiving a long post and wanting to return fire. I have long found this useless, something to be ironed out of me. Unless I have substance to fill the page, I have to simply be complacent with how much I can give back. We've all gotten carried away and had much to say, but as we always politely mention: there is really no need to match. Due to the "method" behind my writing, I can string lengthy, prose-laden sentences together, but I do not expect the Mona Lisa in turn. That's just a stylistic choice. Similarly, I can get a lot out of a little, and won't press myself to add more if I believe the point has crossed over. I think we would all prefer to have something to work with over a bunch of pretty fluff.

Writing Structure. The beast that typically intimidates others from interacting with me. This post inspired the way I create my sentences. I think, in some ways, I've taken it beyond suggestion given (I like my replies to sound lyrical, perhaps due to the way the post describes their "improved" sentence). I don't think I've fully embodied this just yet. I feel as though my sentences still end up particularly long with no abrupt, shorter statements to allow for breathing. It's something I'm conscious of and actively trying to work on. I'm not particularly upset with the way my current writing manifests itself, though, especially when comparing one of the older threads I was proud of on pintsizedpyro to one of my most "memorable" ones on burstbombbitch.

The writing is objectively different. In the time (four years) between these posts, I believe I had adopted a more descriptive method of writing. I know when writing the latter post I was primarily aiming for beauty and scene setting, but body language had evolved to become one of my most prominent focuses. Due to my muse's anatomy at the time (the lack thereof), I felt as though I could emphasize and exaggerate body language, pushing it to its limits. I am also aware I wrote in this way to "match" with the person I was writing with, as their writing entranced me and was something I aspired to become. I have found a middle ground, being the style I now write in. I do feel as though my background/scene setting could use more work, but I know it is not impossible for me to do, having evidence of doing so previously. That, and other wonderful writers really help me with their love of elaborating on plots!

I've also been told that my writing is "difficult to read," but not in a particularly bad light. I think the critique is spot on, but I do need the ability to make it "easy" on the fly for others as well. That being said, I find myself omitting things that I believe should be derived from context, which makes a good segue into this next segment...

Word Choice and Character Voice. This is something I feel I could work on. I have three "main" muses at this time: sinsolucion, lovlorne, and eternasci. I want to believe they all have different "writing styles" when I piece their threads together, that others will read the narrative (not just the dialogue!) with the same "vibe" the character themselves give off. Much of my struggle comes from how lovlorne and eternasci both can be on the "fancier" side of things. I struggle to differentiate the two, which isn't inherently bad (someone can simply like a character archetype, which I most definitely adore both), but I do wonder how successful I am when it comes to isolating what makes these characters them.

Then there's sinsolucion, who I believe would have none of the elegance the former two share. On rereading posts, I think I've managed to nail keeping him "simple," although actions like body language may still invoke my type of "lyrical" writing. This is a post that kind of has me like... "wait, maybe this was written with too much influence from my other blogs?" Objectively, nothing is wrong... but it does feel too fancy for a dude who just... isn't. Funnier still, this character is a writer, but he would absolutely never write the way I do. It creates some dissonance that makes for a challenge, but I do love him for it. It can be drowned out when reading other replies from Lucien or Xiuying, though. It also helps that, unlike these two, Soren doesn't typically undergo the same thought process or even have the same weak points in their characterization, leaving him to fill in voids they don't allow me to write.

It's difficult to divide your "style" for a different "person," but Soren gives me a good challenge, and helps me grow all the same. Also, he's a breath of fresh air when it comes to his very different interactions. Honestly, after going over these, that aforementioned post definitely felt a little fancy for Soren. I might rewrite it just to see what I could've done differently, knowing the sentence that particularly stood out to me as being more "Lucien" vibes (e.g. "mutters he beneath breath, smirk unbending, nigh threatening to wax crescent").

Just all in the fun of dissecting one's own style.

Steps to Writing a Reply. For Lucien and Xiuying, the first sentence is key. Both of their writing styles are particularly lyrical. I utilize a lot of alliteration and rhyme to get that feeling of song, though it can bleed into Soren's replies as well, evident by the post that has become the previous topic. Typically, when I get that first sentence going, the rest all flow along behind it. I usually knock a reply out all in one go, though I will save a draft and return later to reread it and analyze if I've come up with anything better in the midst of that break. It feels fitting to "set the scene" for these two overly dramatic assholes with a leading sentence, bolded and in bigger text to capture someone's primary attention, both of which crave to be in the spotlight literally and figuratively.

I think just about any post is an example of me framing the first sentence, but a good chunk of my favorites come from Lucien, especially when they're on the particularly silly or dramatic side. Xiuying has her moments, but most of them were in her development a few years ago. Her style has become more "pointed" and jarring to align with her new design, though anything that comes before her third phase of development falls back to the eloquence Lucien has now.

things to come back and add to this: my weakness of scene setting/bgs dialogue

This isn't really something to "tag" per say, since it's not reeeally a prompt or meme, but I'd love to see some elaboration on writing styles I'm super curious about (and as we all say, for the love of all that is holy, you DONT need to match)! I've sent out asks already, but if you haven't gotten one, steal this!

so suffer: @bloodxhound, @kagoshou, @fatedprincess @lionfanged, @goldenfists, @vtriol, @passionoathed, @shdwtouch, @stillresolved, @mielmoto, @amorbloom, @wishedby !

#i get asked to do essays on other ppls writing at times #theyre a Lot of effort too man. when asked ppl tend to forget ive written em too and i have to go find em.#i wanna do one for myself. i wanna see my own change. i wanna have it down for myself since i know i won't just. forget or toss it somewher #ok tag system w/e bro #if yall notice smth unmentioned lmk im curious #🙦✿ ⦙ shoot for the stars; no safety. ⦙ ❪ & ooc. ❫#🙦✿ ⦙ cutesy wootsy pink mermaid! ⦙ ❪ & mun. ❫

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northropi · 7 months

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She Has Been Birded (like boarded get it)

basis is primarily on Ospreys so we have a little non-Aequornithes rep but there's probably gonna be just a liiiiiittle Loon/Albatross/etc in there. or maybe a bit of Dipper...

Included is a diagram of the hand, albeit not a terribly clear one. Basically the idea is that digits 1, 2, and 3 function as they do in birds- 2 and 3 are fused, 1 (thumb) is free and supports the Alula. However, the Alula is also clawed, and digits 4 and 5 (ring and pinky) are present- thumb is opposable, but can only manage a sort of claw grip- they have difficulty holding flat objects without piercing or slashing them because the hand is sort of circular when closed. Digits 2/3 fold at obliquely over the other fingers at the first knuckle to allow for use of a somewhat awkward three-fingered hand. Harpies tend not to mind this because of the advantage of being able to use their feet for things sometimes (and resorting to their mouths in a pinch), and even when it does become a tradeoff flight is sorta worth it. Wingspan is on the order of at least ten, maybe going up to twenty feet, weight is probably in the 40 kilos ballpark so about as high as conventional birds can get and still fly, give or take a little? Digits drawn taking after Ospreys with strongly curved but not radically long claws, Digit 2 being apparently the shortest, 3 the longest, and 1 and 4 moved back for zygodactyly. Claws might be able to extend a bit due to Vampirism?

While I neglected to show it the "being made of a bunch of little bat-like critters" part is probably still applicable. She can break up into a swarm of them as opposed to just turning into a single bat via pure shapeshifting, which has ups and downs relative to the alternatives.

Backstory is that she was a familiar to a Vampire for a while and when someone who was Every Kind Of Bigoted Possible came through he thought it would be funny if he cut the Vampire-loving transfem Harpy's head off to test the adage about chickens, right in front of her buddy, who was juuuust out of reach. The Vampire turned her to save-(ish) her life. Not sure if this would involve a bite to the head-side of the neck, body-side of the neck, or just both- currently have it drawn with a fang mark to either side of the neck cut implying he sort of stuck them together, but it would be a Funny Reference if part of the asshole's bit was testing out whether forcing the Vampire to turn one part would turn the other.

Oh and that poleaxe thing she has, it's basically a bardiche with a comically oversized matchlock firearm built into it. Thing could pop the crew's heads through the armor of an IFV even before accounting for the magic bullshit.

#artist sona #art #sona art #vampire #harpy #harpy oc

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professor-doctor-doctor · 2 hours

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Since everyone is posting about their headcanons and OCs, here’s…the closest I have to an OC?

The Shindo brothers, in childhood. Matsuzo, at the top, is the name I gave to Heiji’s nameless older brother in the first episode. Takeshi is technically an OC—both Heiji and Matsuzo appear in the final show, but Takeshi does not. This is intentional. Takeshi did not live into adulthood—and yes, it was Heiji’s fault.

Some quick headcanons regarding the brother’s, Heiji’s childhood, and their relationships with one another:

Matsuzo is primarily focused on his studies, both academic and refining his Shindo-Ryō. He’s the reserved older brother, and his father’s apprentice, meaning most of the time he’s away from his younger siblings, being trained personally. This doesn’t mean he doesn’t spend time with them—Matsuzo helps train Takeshi, who is also training to be a swordsman. While Heiji is the only of the sons to not be learning Shindo-Ryō, Matsuzo still makes some time to spend with him, such as joining him for tea ceremonies, or doing calligraphy together. Out of everyone in the family, Heiji’s closest relationship was with Matsuzo.

Heiji began youth as the quiet, overlooked child, and after his younger brother’s death, became something of a trouble child—making associates with drug peddlers and flesh traders within the city (such as Hachiman), even building his own miniature gang, which later results in his father banishing him from the family and Kyoto as a city. But before all of this, he was the studious of the three, and yet pretty much ignored by his father due to his lack of interest in fighting. His mother died when he was around nine years old, and it was she who taught him how to brew tea—but other than that, he hadn’t much a relationship with either of his parents. He was closest with Matsuzo, but despised his younger brother Takeshi, who often took joy in poking fun at how useless Heiji was when it came to the samurai arts—quite literally what their entire clan is known for. He beat him on several sparring occasions, and was overall just as annoying as a younger sibling may be. It was a great source of embarrassment for Heiji, and culminated overtime into a festering hatred for his own kin.

Takeshi, for all his nuisance, was essentially acting in the way any other little boy would. He was rambunctious, loud, and prideful, all of which clashed with Heiji’s personality. He was well liked by his father and eldest brother, however, who saw that he had the makings of a very promising warrior. It was seen that where Matsuzo would inherit the dojo and ruler ship of the clan, Takeshi would likely go on to be a great warrior, and add a new branch of lineage to the Shindo family tree. Heiji was overlooked, due to the fact his only ambition seemed to be that of an artisan.

However, Takeshi met a tragic end at the age of ten in the summer of 1613, when he fell gravely ill of a mysterious illness, and passed away. He was buried in the family grave, and the loss hit both Matsuzo and the Shindo Patriarch hard—not so much Heiji. Soon after, Heiji began to take advantage of his silver tongue and skills in trade, further dampening his relationship with his father. His sly and snake like attitude lead his father to both see and suspect the worst in him, and when Heiji turned 19, he was banished from the family, on the grounds he had disrespected their values in every way possible. The Shindo Patriarch Even accused Heiji in having a hand in his brother’s death, which is…just ridiculous, right?

By the time the show begins, Matsuzo and Heiji have somewhat reconnected. After their father passed away and Matsuzo became leader of the Shindo clan, Heiji eventually reached out—after, of course, getting a comfy spot working for the Shogun to facilitate the trade of foreign guns into Japan. He was deeply apologetic and implored his brother to see past his father’s foolishness—he had loved his brother, after all. He’d have done nothing to hurt him. Matsuzo, Kind at Heart, welcomed him back in—a grave mistake. For with Heiji came his empire of drugs and trafficking Matsuzo had no clue of.

Despite being the eldest, and the leader of the clan, Heiji became richer and of higher status through his success as a criminal overlord. It wasn’t long before it was Matsuzo bowing to Heiji.

This is just a quick overview of how I interpret Heiji Shindo’s family—I actually have a fic of Matsuzo eating dinner with him, Fowler, and Hachiman, supposedly after the scene where they agree to set the four fangs after Mizu. If you want me to post it, or rant more about my elaborate backstory for the unforgivable rat that is Shindo, please let me know! Comics and the likes will also be coming soon :3

#blue eye samurai #heiji shindo #bes #abijah fowler #fowdo #bes oc #backstory #blue eye samurai netflix #headcanon #fanart #notice how his backstory is literally the exact opposite of Fowler’s #this was intentional

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tribbetherium · 1 year

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'The eight primary subspecies of the northhounds are generally on good terms where their territories overlap: separated both by culture and genetics for tens of thousands of years, they nonetheless find a way to coexist with their neighbors most of the time. The same cannot be said, however, for the conflict between the drysanders and the riveners, in one of the most disputed territories on the continent: the banks of the Great River that winds its way through the Drysand Basin. Riveners, with a lifestyle and culture built around the water, follow the path of the Great River--but inadvertently come face to face with the drysanders of the basin: with their home region being primarily desert, they are hard-weathered folk who are very intolerant of anything unfamiliar that may be a threat. Even more so, given that water is a scarce resource of their desert home, and they are thus highly defensive of it. The riveners, on the other hand, see the drysanders as being inhospitable aggressors, and, further compounded by cultural barriers and differences in dialect, the two groups have been breeding bad blood between each other for several decades since.

But a most unlikely of peacekeepers would step in between the factions: the woodwolves, known for their lethargic, hedonistic and gregarious lifestyles. They are, however, not pacifistic, and with a culture revolving around unity, acceptance, and affection, will actively go out of their way to interrupt and halt conflict when they see it--viewing pointless violence as an ugly thing with terrible consequence. Due to their peaceful, friendly and amicable natures, and their wider knowledge of different tongues due to their frequent mingling with the other subspecies, the woodwolves are well-liked allies of many, including both rival factions, and while the two still have occasional standoffs, their involvement has been sufficient to convince either side to make a compromise, for the sake of their common, peace-loving friends.'

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#speculative evolution #speculative biology #spec evo #speculative zoology #hamster's paradise #the calliducyon saga

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kitkatt0430 · 8 days

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Talk Shop Tuesday: How did your Eobard vs Eobard series first come about?

Eobard vs Eobard (AKA the Herobard series ^_^ ) came in part from curiosity about what the future Eobard was trying to get back to in S1 was like now that he'd altered the timeline so much. Would Eobard's own life even have played out the same way he remembered or would it be different? And if it was different, could the Eobard of this timeline even be considered the same person as the Eobard of the OG timeline?

It also came in part because Eobard has a habit of getting in his own way over the course of the series and wouldn't it be funny if it was even more literal? Eobard isn't getting what he wants because a literal second Eobard is busy getting it all first - his own worst enemy is himself and he doesn't even realize it.

From there I looked back over the DC wikis to refresh my memory on the various comics Eobard backstories to decide how I wanted the new timeline Eobard's life to diverge from old timeline Eobard's. And I quickly decided that of course new Eobard was going to love his brother a lot - in fact part of his identity he built while recovering from his parents abuse would revolve around being a good big brother. Comics Eobard erased Robern from existence, something that EoWells will have done in his timeline, so it was important that new Eobard not only didn't erase Robern but was incredibly close with him.

Gideon was also someone I wanted new Eobard to have with him. EoWells has a Gideon so I wanted to keep that parallel. I wanted this Gideon to have a different origin point, so instead of coming from the Flash Museum via theft she became an AI companion Eobard's parents gave him in an attempt to fix his social development - it both helped with defining the kind of abuse Eobard primarily suffered from his parents - neglect and verbal abuse - but also meant that Gideon had been Eobard's closest companion from a very young age. About nine or ten, not too long before Robern was born, probably given by Eobard's parents as an attempt to 'fix' him before the baby arrived.

With Eo and Gideon - and I think that was about where I started calling him Eo because that became Gideon's nickname for him - established as having been together for so long, it made sense that she was more of a sibling to him than a friend. And Eobard was probably a little bit co-dependent with her and vice versa - Gideon was wary of risking Eobard's life to become a speedster, but at the same time she definitely wanted that because speedsters live longer than regular humans and she wants to keep him as long as she can - so he has a tendency to put his relationship with her first, though Robern is a close second as adults.

Meloni came about because Eobard and Robern needed an adult in their lives after their parents died. I wanted Eobard to still be young enough to need a legal guardian when that happened so it would make sense why he didn't get custody of Robern himself. But also old enough that he was believably college aged (early) and thus wasn't around enough to really see how his parents were treating Robern so the realization Robern wasn't actually the much loved child his parents pretended he was would hit harder after they died.

I picked Meloni to name the character based off the comics character, but while she's got a lot in common with that comics character... she's really much more of an OC with the same name. She looks a lot like Iris due to being a direct descendant of Iris and Eddie's - it took a while to decide on her having a much more direct relation to Eobard and Robern too since Eddie & Iris' descendants would be distant enough relatives that she wouldn't really have a legal claim if she weren't also more closely related to them too. By then, despite being descended of two branches of the same family, Meloni's parents would have been distantly related enough that it wouldn't be a problem of incest/inbreeding for them to have married. This worked since I had already decided pretty early that Eobard & Robern would not be Eddie's descendants, but Malcolm Thawne's (either a brother or a cousin at this point) - with Eddie saving the life of one of Malcolm's kids being the real reason why Eddie's survival is necessary to Eobard's existence and why Edward became a family name for the Keystone branch of the family.

Once I had these four characters built up in my head, I finally started writing the first fic of the series. Eobard and Gideon in the past (to them, present for the main action of the series) about to learn about the Reverse Flash - not included in the new Timeline's Flash Museum - the hard way. That was also when I decided that of course new Eobard would have a very different code name and color scheme, but that the color scheme would be a reaction to not wanting to have anything in common with someone who'd hurt the Flash.

Even when he doesn't realize he's doing it, this Eobard is constantly rejecting the path that would lead to the Reverse Flash existing in the new timeline.

#talk shop tuesday #kitkatt0430 answers #thank you ^_^#fandom meta #the flash #fanfiction #eobard vs eobard

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navree · 1 year

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Since i really like your headcanons, i wish you could give us your thoughts/headcanons about the personalities of the green's dragons

You're too nice, thanks!

So, I have a lot of Sunfyre headcanons here, but the gist of it is that Sunfyre is incredibly vain because he knows he's The Hot Girl, but also incredibly affectionate, not just with Aegon (tho it is primarily with him due to their bond) but also with Aegon's family and even their dragons. He's incredibly light hearted, and though a preener to the absolute extreme, also a playful boy at heart.

I think of Dreamfyre as a bit of an "odd one out" type of dragon, especially given that her known riders are people who're seen as "divergent" by society, Rhaena being our lesbian babe and Helaena being coded as neurodivergent herself. She's older, so she knows what she likes and what she doesn't like, and she likes to keep to herself primarily and do her own thing. I think out of all of them, she adores flying, and there's an element of playfulness to her, since I think she's Sunfyre's mother, and I think she too is extraordinarily loving, just less in a show off way than Sunfyre. She's also more exclusive in her affection, deeply attached to Helaena and less willing to share some of that than the way Sunfyre is with the rest of the Greens.

Vhagar, as everyone has memed, and to which I agree, is dragon meemaw. She's everyone's extremely cranky grandma, and she's able to keep young whippersnappers in line with just a look. I also think Vhagar's a bit jaded, not by any of the human deaths she's seen necessarily (though I think Laena's clearly affected her, as she mourned) but by what happened to Meraxes. Meraxes is written as having been larger than Vhagar, and there's no other information on when she was born, so I think Meraxes was older, and likely something of an older sister, insofar as dragons feel things about siblings. So Meraxes having been shot down, combined with Visenya's own deep cavernous grief over Rhaenys (aaaaaaaahhhhhh) likely hardened her. I also think that, as Vhagar grew older, she grew fond of having young riders, of having people to take care of, given that Laena claimed her at age twelve and Aemond at age ten, and she's very possessive, views the creatures she loves as her's and will defend them ferociously and with her own life if necessary. And she's a grudging grandmaternal presence to the littler dragons, even if she thinks Sunfyre is a drama queen.

Tessarion, like, her rider, is the baby. She's also not nearly as vain as Sunfyre, despite still being gorgeous, and I actually think she's a bit shy, and probably needs to be coaxed out of her shell by Daeron and Sunfyre more than any other dragon. Tessarion is also incredibly physically affectionate (while Sunfyre adores Aegon and does love his other family, he's not necessarily very physical about it), but Tessarion is constantly curling up around Daeron and butting her head against his. When she was small enough to be held she was insufferable about it.

#personal #answered #anonymous #this was a fun one anon!!#i don't think of the dragons' personalities much but it was nice to bang out some lighter headcanons #it's not very big or very detailed but have a lil smth

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ofmumu-archive · 2 months

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✧ ┆ ( DEWANDA WISE, CISFEMALE, BISEXUAL, SHE/HER ). Not everyone can say they’ve been to Briar Glen, but ANIYAH TAYLOR, a 39-year-old, SOCIAL WORKER, has lived in Briar Glen for 39 YEARS. This is the city for development and they know it. Living in this extensive town means you meet all kinds of people, we can’t wait to meet and see how ANIYAH develops.

╰ 001 … basic information :

full name: aniyah destiny taylor. nickname(s): niya. age: 39. date of birth: may 30. zodiac sign: gemini. gender: cis female. pronouns: she/her. orientation: bisexual. occupation: social worker. living arrangements: lives alone in a two-bedroom house. pet(s): a yellow tabby ; cheeto. language(s) spoken: english and french. marital status: divorced.

╰ 002 … physical appearance :

face-claim: dewanda wise. hair color: dark brown. eye color: hazel. height: 5'6". tattoos: canon. piercings: canon.

╰ 003 … health :

physical ailments: none. disorders and illnesses: none. addictions: none. drug use: never. alcohol use: socially. smoking: never.

╰ 004 … character & personality :

applicable labels: the … activist, bibliomaniac, diligent. character traits: self-reliant, generous, secretive, blunt, brutally-honest, faithful. hobbies: cooking, doing yoga, reading. habits: swearing, humming to themselves, eye rolling, gesturing while talking, rubbing the back of their neck, peeling off bottle labels, rubbing temples.

╰ 005 … romance :

how do you best like to be loved ( this test ):tba. what does love mean to you ( this test ): tba. why are you unlovable ( this test ): tba. love language ( this test ): tba.

╰ 006 … favorites :

weather: thunderstorms. color: gentian blue; #0E294B. movies: horror. animal: puma.

╰ 007 … family :

mother: lena taylor. ( deceased ) description: had a close relationship with her mother throughout their entire lifetime together. lost her mother approximately ten years ago to a long-time illness. father: christopher taylor. ( deceased ) description: lost her father approximately five years ago. aniyah swears its because he couldn't stand being without his wife any longer.

╰ 008 … quick background information :

Grew up in a close-knit family as the younger sibling.

Knew from a young age that all she wanted to do was help others in the world - didn't know what she wanted to do until later into high school but knew she wanted to help people.

She came to the realization after one of her friends became homeless and she had few options and little support.

Aniyah now works as a social worker, primarily working with young children and the elderly. She also volunteers in the local homeless shelter anytime she has spare time.

╰ 009 … quick personality information :

Difficult to allow herself to trust others - she was married at one point but the relationship ended in divorce after she found out he was having an affair. Due to it, it has made her hesitant to reach out for relationships again.

A workaholic - her caseload is always full and if she doesn't work herself on overload, she won't keep up with everything. Even if she is on top of it all, she still finds herself reaching out to find other places she can focus her attention onto.

A very kind individual that wants to help other and offer generosity ; but won't hesitate to turn the tables if necessary.

╰ 010 … connections :

Click here for connections page

#relaxhq:intro

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guhamun · 3 months

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multimuse combination meme; accepting || @nvrcmplt

⭐ I send with full love. Take all the time you need, Shi. I am at your mercy. ⭐

Jianyu and Beornræd: I love to imagine that they have a friendly rivalry with one another / have met many times in the past, especially since, though Jianyu's people ceased being full blown nomadic over time, they still have a process where some of the village leaves with the cattle to let the grass recover and then come back in another season. Them meeting several times during that and testing one another's skills. Tala....childhood...friends...-closes eyes-

Jianyu and Einri: SAME HAT AS BEOR. Except Jianyu probably disapproves of his sticky fingers and wishes Einri would find something else to do aside from 'accidentally' taking something from someone. He finds his skill with the bow to be impressive and sometimes likes having little competitions with him. Even though they probably would bump heads because Einri is...Einri...he would respect how overall skill.

Jianyu and Chenlong: Just from a glance, Jianyu would know that Chenlong is powerful, and that alone would make him want to learn more about the blade from him. I like to think that they exchanged blows in a friendly spar and then from there he was basically fascinated. Jianyu is constantly wanting to grow as a warrior and a swordmaster, so it would be interesting to explore something like this for sure!

Me rounding up all your mercenaries into my arms. I don't know a lot about them, but holding out brochures how would they like to work with the Band of Blades sometimes---

Damian and Vaclav: You already know probably how I feel about them but like Damian finds Vaclav to be so interesting (cool). First impressions for him were good stuff, so I imagine he would love to occasionally speak to Vaclav because he'd feel like they understand what it's like to be a creature shaped like a person, basically. They might be different species, but he would probably hold many things Vaclav told him in high regard due to said respect.

Damian and Aapeli: I imagine that Damian doesn't really like going to regular doctors much, and since Aapeli is a werebeast like himself, he'd feel ten times more comfortable talking to them due to their differences from humans. Probably does house calls occasionally if necessary.

Kyojuro and Junpei: With Junpei being an older slayer, though disgraced whose name is no longer uttered by anyone in the corp, I imagine that Kyojuro would defer to his wisdom in concerns to certain sword techniques and quickest way to deal with certain demons. The reason for the other's disgrace wouldn't really be within Kyojuro's scope to ask as he would still see them as one who had taken up the blade and still fought demons.

Kyojuro and any of the hakkenden guardians: I don't know why, but the thought of one of the hakkenden guardians choosing him to look after just has me -chef kiss- Kinda like in Okami when they were with others, but would return to that Satomi household the moment they were summoned by whoever held the ability to call them.

Kyojuro and Jiyuna: I like the thought of Jiyuna looking in on Kyojuro sometimes after he saved him from that cage. Then they just become close from there from constant meetings.

Nagayoshi and Olu: I feel in my very soul that Naga would like Olu. I don't know why but this calls to me. He has such a fiery temperament, but I also feel like Olu can pretty much reel him in whenever that happens.

Arash and Vuir (fantasy verse-ish perhaps!): Arash wandering into Vuir's territory when he's hunting for his village thinking that he heard the calls of a bird, but instead, he's met with a dragon. They hit it off pretty well, primarily because Arash is just so damn chill 99.99% of the time and doesn't flee upon being discovered, but talks to Vuir instead.

Arash and Tyler: They would get along so well fdsffsfsd. He and Tyler are the most chill people and I can see them hitting it off right from the beginning as a result of this. Probably occasionally goes to his shop because he really likes scented candles and likes putting them around his Master's home. 1000% knows that Tyler is a witch since he can feel it.

Tomoe and Yatagarsu: As one who guides others, I imagine her encountering them a great deal when she was alive, but when she's summoned, still sees them. She is very respectful to them...even though...they are sometimes embarrassing and are nothing like the stories she heard in concerns to their mannerisms.

Tomoe and Weisheng: Her coming to visit every now and then for blade upkeep -- wishes that he would stop drinking all the time. Probably also cleans up his residence when he passes out because she can't stand how messy things gets.

Atha and any of your undead people: ANY. ANY OF THEM. It's his duty to aid the dead in moving on, and equally his duty to deal with necromancy of any kind. Though at the same time, he would be interested in learning more about the 'why' of this undead army as he also attempts to help spirits pass on in the area like he believes they should.

#nvrcmplt #[-puts a whole box in front of you- JKFHSKFFDSFSS #these are the ones that came to me first even though I can name more but you know you can always #just throw any and everyone at any muse at any given time--]#;ooc jabber #;ask reply meme #OH AND NEUVI AND PERCIVAL AND----

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sevrai · 10 months

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Armored Core

I went on a journey this year. Or maybe I should say I continued an old journey.

On July 10th, 26 years ago, the first Armored Core released in Japan. On an unknown day about 20-ish years ago a young me stumbled upon a copy of Armored Core 3 for the PS2 in a used game store.

It's been some time since I decided to indulge in a lengthy, meandering post about my loves and hobbies outside of awkward Twitter threads, so I wanna air my thoughts on the Armored Core series! (This is gonna be a long post, primarily for my own enjoyment. You have been warned.)

Most who know me online or read my comics will know of my penchant for fantasy, but not all may know of my love for the "Real Robot" subgenre of mecha. As someone obsessed with DBZ and magic, you'd think I'd fall more into the epic "Super Robot" camp of mecha anime, but growing up I felt captivated with Gundam Wing and the Universal Century OVAs that aired on Toonami and Adult Swim. They hard-wired my DNA early on. (With the Escaflowne film later impacting me so hard with it's grounded mecha and magical fantasy setting that it played a huge role in inspiring WOE, though my comic is noticeably lacking in Guymelefs.)

Naturally that awe and love for such works made me feel incredibly drawn to Armored Core 3 when I first saw it. It was my introduction to a series that I wouldn't comprehend the true breadth of for well over a decade.

I was terrible at it, both due to my lack of experience with TPS games and the oldschool control scheme, but the customization, detail, and overall atmosphere of the game were incredible to experience all the same.

It wasn't until the holiday season of 2008 that I was finally able to fight through an AC campaign, when I was gifted a PS3 and several games, among which was Armored Core: For Answer. It blew me away. I already had fond memories of bumbling around AC3, but For Answer's over-the-top presentation, haunting soundtrack, challenging gameplay, and dystopic atmosphere really sucked me in.

Along with Demon's Souls it kick-started a general admiration of FromSoftware and the distinct games they developed. After getting swept up in the excitement of Dark Souls, me and a friend dabbled in Armored Core V and Verdict Day, even playing a decent amount of the territorial multiplayer, but it never drew me in like AC3 and AC4A did.

The years went on and although I always adored Armored Core, I took my sweet time getting around to going backwards in the series. I've always been a fan of emulation and rarely used to feel a particular drive to collect physical games, (can't say the same for myself nowadays. Sorry, wallet!) but I always remembered how much AC resonated with me, and when walking around used game stores I would muse to my friends that I wanted to someday collect all of the Armored Core games in physical form.

I made relaxed progress grabbing the games when I saw them over the years, but at the end of 2022, the Game Awards hit everyone with a bombshell reveal. The show faded to black, the screen eventually being lit by the Bandai Namco logo, followed by a little red light. Something in my soul knew what was coming as soon as I saw that simple red light start to glow, I jumped out of my seat and exclaimed out loud "Armored Core!?"

youtube

It was a trailer for Armored Core VI: Fires of Rubicon, the first new AC game in ten years. It was a surreal moment that still makes me smile now.

The series was always niche, but since it went dormant From has achieved superstar status as a developer thanks to the Souls series and Elden Ring. There's now more attention and interest in Armored Core than it has ever gotten in the past. It didn't dawn on me until a buddy messaged me shortly after the reveal that the prices of the old games were gonna go crazy from the huge amount of people who were From fans but had never heard of AC, and were now interested in trying the old games.

Some were content to wait patiently to see if the market and prices would calm down, but I took a gamble and started shoring up my collection ASAP. Sure it felt embarrassing paying so much more for several of them than they were going for a mere few weeks earlier, but I supplemented my hunt by selling a few rare old SHF and Figmas.

After a few tense months of scanning listings for good prices with some very focused personal criteria, the result was expensive but satisfying;

On top of this investment I even went all-in on the Premium Edition of ACVI. Perhaps people should rightfully poke fun at me for throwing so much money around for video games about giant robots, but it's not often I can say I accomplished a goal of this caliber in my life.

Now with all the games in hand a new journey had begun; from collecting to playing. I've played Armored Core games off and on since the early 2000's, but I was only just now finally making the pilgrimage through the series proper from the very first release, alongside the huge wave of newcomers dipping their toes into the old games before the new one comes out. Like an Armored Core version of Billy Madison.

I started playing the PSOne Classics release of AC1 on my PS3, before transitioning to my PS2 Slim once all of the PSX games were in my hands. Learning that both systems used funky software emulation for PSX games I went on a subquest of ordering and cleaning up a SCPH-39001 model PS2, (which was super nostalgic in it's own right since I started with a fat PS2 in 2003,) hooked up to a massive KV-36FV310 via component cables. I even went down a DualShock 2 model rabbit hole. Every game now looks and runs like a dream on this hedonistic setup.

As of the day I'm posting this silly blog post, I am seven games deep. I have 100%'d, (all parts unlocked, all missions complete, all enemy AC beaten both optional fights in missions and in the Arena,) without any Human PLUS enhancements or OP-INTENSIFY used, and even sticking with the default control scheme:

Armored Core

AC: Project Phantasma

AC: Master of Arena

Armored Core 2

AC2: Another Age

Armored Core 3

… And right now I'm just a few percent shy of 100%ing AC3: Silent Line. Sorry if this sounds like juvenile bragging, but it's always been hard for me to focus on and finish games. My ADHD has me jumping from game to game for years on end, never seeing many of them through to the end, so I want to indulge in a bit of pride being able to spend several months blasting through these games without slowing down, and without taking any shortcuts.

Admittedly I haven't played on Hard Mode in any of the games that have offered it, and Silent Line is really pushing me to my limit demanding S Ranks on every mission, but I'm still enjoying it and hoping to finish it up in time to sample a bit more of the games I missed out on, as well as make a nostalgic return to For Answer, by the time ACVI comes out.

Returning to Armored Core 3 felt especially sentimental. Like a return home. I'm sure many people can relate to the feeling of returning to a childhood game with newfound abilities and knowledge, finally able to do what your younger self could not. Having beaten the game that started this whole obsession for me about two decades ago is a really great feeling.

I adore these games. I always loved the few I did play as a youngster, and knew that From was a consistent enough developer that I would enjoy the rest as well, but not to the extent I truly have. Despite the time and money spent collecting them, I still underestimated just how much I'd fall in love with each and every one. Even the aspects others struggle to return to. I love the FCS quirks, the turn speed, the bunny hopping, the heat and energy management, the opponents riddled with cybernetic enhancements pushing you to your limits, I even love the old controls of using L2/R2 for vertical camera movement. For all it's quirks and older design philosophies it's such an engrossing and immersive series.

ACVI will be a very different, (and streamlined,) beast. I'm okay with this. My adoration for old Armored Core will only make it easier to return to and appreciate this storied series I've gone to such lengths to collect, even after the new one releases. I trust From to do the series justice, no matter how easy it is for newcomers to jump in.

I love Armored Core, I love this genre of mecha, and I hope lots of people will learn to love it as well. I want the new game to do well so we can see more in the future. I sincerely doubt anyone will actually have read all of this, but if you did, thanks for your time. I know my rambling can be unfocused and pretentious. I don't need to put this much effort into waxing nostalgic about video games, but I miss the part of me that used to do this on a regular basis.

(I also apologize for how much my comic updating will probably slow down when ACVI drops, regardless of what momentum I can build through July and August.)

#rambling #blog #armored core #video games

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