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Morning found me in my futon, half my covers thrown to the wind, one leg, tail, and both arms wrapped around a mysteriously empty void of space. Also, somehow, the dog had left. Cracking one eye open, I would love to say I saw a cheery smile, but instead I was covered in invisible hair. You ever...

So since there's been some discussion here and elsewhere about the complexity of Arsenio's support equipment, I figured I'd share some stuff on why he's put as much thought as he has to the matter. Aside from the realities of rescue operations and knives/prybars/etc, there's also the fact that...

Not a lot of politics in this one for the three people who read this here, but that's coming down the pike in part 4. Can y'all say field exercises?

Starting at the movement, I fought the urge to come upright. The dog was sleeping against my leg, and more importantly I didn’t want to startle whoever was up. Presumably, this wasn't a hostile, but just in case I flicked out my left-hand claws. Working the covers off, I stood up, eyes...

I had barely finished my gas-station shopping trip before the town car came to get us- well, I say town car, but it was more town minivan. The driver, a reasonably casually dressed young man in a waistcoat and cap, just opened the rear door and started piling everyone in, while Momo took shotgun...

Lunch ended up being at a noodle shop, of which I gormlessly echoed whatever Jiro ended up getting, which ended up a mostly vegetarian pork broth full of rice noodles. I think it was pho-something? Not worth mentioning, aside from the chuckles at some of my facial expressions as I bit down on a...

Spanish updated.

(AN: Spanish native speakers will note that parts of this are a mite bit formal, mostly because with this quarantine on I can't actually practice the sorts of contractions that happen in natural speech. Also fuck trying to re-learn Mexican slang...) As good as Mina was at navigating the...

[X] Sign on with Gotri Alriksnev. Can't pay me to touch Warpstome.

Literally why though? It's a shield, the person it's going to be hitting the most is the wielder.

Groaning, I considered what my plans for After School were this fine Saturday. I’d finished up with my Support Equipment class, having proven that yes, I could head down to the armory and start talking weapon specifications. Was I supposed to consider my Support Equipment a weapon...

THREADMARKS ADDED

My narrative, according to Jiro, would be incomplete without the inclusion of more of my classes. As much as I disagree with her, it would be remiss to gloss over everything. Except First Aid class. Fuck that class, fuck Recovery Girl’s needle cane, and fuck the “hey let’s lie down in a...

Eh, if I had to describe Uraraka's background, I wouldn't say 'working class' so much as a petite bourgeois who comes out of a revolutionary background with strong criminal ties. Considering that something like half the construction in Japan in some areas started as or operate as Yakuza front...

Yes, but also no? El Tigre was a great show that I enjoyed (since y'know Latino guy in America seeing a not complete hash of Our Shit) but it's not really a thing that has a bearing on this story. I was initially on the fence about posting this here, since this is pretty explicitly a politics...

Lunch was a blitz, and more importantly the kind of blitz only a hundred and twenty students hitting the limited food terminal stands could produce. I’d submitted a dietary advice card (legally not an obligate carnivore, but raw meat was fine and too many vegetables were not and I couldn’t taste...

“Gooooood morning, listeners!” I was in Hell, and it sounded like an early-morning talk show host who’d landed nose-first in one of the packaging plants my family kept around for non-avocado related exports while spouting bilingual chatter like he was getting paid per word with a bonus...

I’m not going to lie and hype folks up for something that was, if you had any degree of comfortableness in your body, an absolute cakewalk. I might not have had any special forms of locomotion, but running on a flat and level track was not what I’d call difficult at all. Sure, if you were...

There was a non-zero part of me that was deeply unnerved to wake back up in the Wild Wild Pussycat’s guest room. Mama y Papa should have been done moving in by now, damnit- it had been nearly a month! Opening up my laptop, I groaned as a letter fell out of it. Arsenio, mi primo Si tu...

Honestly? My advice is simple: don't have rules. Don't have dice either. Know what your story is doing and how it gets there, choose a few open-ended beats to use, and let it go.