#but its MAGICAL when people engage with it

[anim-ttrpgs]

I want to provide an example of a dungeon crawl for the people who have only been exposed to dungeon crawling through shitty D&D5e modules or bad games of telephone about what classic dungeon crawling looks like.

I’m gonna try not to go into too much detail just because if I do, I’ll be here all day and night because this campaign is so good and all of the characters have so much depth but I still have to give context. (welp, i made it pretty fucking long anyway, but I think it paints a clearer picture that way.)

This is an mildly homebrewed* AD&D2e “troupe campaign” with rotating DMs starring a fictional band of mercenaries called the White Company(not to be confused with the actual White Company or the other fictional White Company) in an alternate history 1390s-1430s England with elves and wizards and shit. I’m really getting to put my Masters in medieval history and culture to good use for once. There’s a rotating cast of characters, as parties are formed from the larger pool of characters in the White Company to undertake mercenary jobs.

*one of the biggest homebrew rules we use is that there is no magical resurrection. Instead of dying instantly with the expectation that they can be magically revived later, characters who fall to 0 HP must receive medical attention from somebody who has the Healing skill immediately, and make a Constitution-based roll to see if they can pull through. If they don’t die, they still permanently lose 1 point of Constitution and must spend weeks or months recovering before they can fight again.

This is happening in a real 1979 D&D adventure module, adapted slightly to fit our setting, but it’s still genuine classic dungeon crawling. The DM is sticking closely to it and just presenting the sandbox for the PCs to do stuff in.

TL;DR: (also spoilers. Skip the TL;DR if you want to read this as a narrative without knowing what happens)

A classic dungeon crawl is not just a dull slog through a bunch of rooms full of monsters and back-to-back boring slap-fight combat. One may encounter:

>yes, monsters, definitely. Some will be out in the open, some will ambush the party, and some will be easy to ambush by the party, but rarely is fighting and killing them the only option. Combat happens either when the party screws up, or when they initiate it on their own terms.

>other adventurers looting the same dungeon

>hidden treasure

>monsters that are basically a trap and puzzle themselves and can’t be fought by just making attack rolls at them

>monsters that can be talked to and negotiated with

>environmental storytelling that can also be hints about hidden traps, monsters, etc.

>boobytraps

>secret doors

>plenty of moments for the characters' personalities to shine

(END OF SPOILERS)

The White Company is currently under the employ of a certain castillan who is having to fight against a pretender to his claims to his lands. The lord that this castellan owes fielty has noticed that a certain village has stopped paying their taxes, and asked the castellan to deal with it. The castellan told the White Company, currently on his payroll, and the White Company sent a small group of mercenaries to either investigate or rough the peasants up until they pay. (Medieval mercenaries nor classic D&D adventurers were exactly heroes. Members of the White Company have engaged in some real moving acts of heroism in this campaign but that’s a different story.)

The White Company party consisted of 8 PCs, because AD&D expects bigass parties. We‘ve had parties of up to 13 PCs before in this campaign, because this is before D&D got embarrassed about its wargaming ancestry. This might sound scary but honestly AD&D2e does not make it hard for a player to play multiple characters at once. It’s expected.

Anyway, they passed a ransacked wagon on the road while traveling to the village. When they got to the village, everything was just fine, no great plumes of smoke or burninated peasants. So they asked the village headman what the deal was, and he was like “What do you mean? We sent the taxes last week.”

Well, that was the ransacked wagon. Here I’m going to start really fast-forwarding.

The White Company mercs did some investigating and found out who sacked the wagon, kicked their asses and ran them off, and discovered just the slightest hint that there was more to this story..

More investigation, a discovery that there’s a greater conspiracy afoot, a fight with two spies that left Elora the Elf bedridden under the care of the local barber-surgeon after getting stabbed in the gut(one party member down.)

Fast-forwarding more. They discover that the old abandoned fort that’s full of monsters is actually where a contingent of the bad guys have made their forward operating base. This abandoned castle is supposedly full of monsters ever since the calamity that made everything full of monsters but that’s another story too. God I’m bad at brief stories. Anyway the bad guys have some tricks for avoiding the monsters on their way in and out apparently.

So, it’s time for the White Company to assault that abandoned castle. That’s a dungeon, and now it’s dungeon crawling time. Using a huge amount of money they found during the investigation, they subcontract some more mercenaries, a party from the Badger Company, and also convince the village headman to levy some peasant militiamen.

Now the party is 24-strong, almost half of that being archers.

I’m fast-forwarding some more. They had a little.. incident where they ran into a group of adventurers trying to loot the place, mistook them for the bad guys, and shot two of them with crossbow bolts. Luckily, and due to the medical skills of some of the party, those two survived, but one of them will be on crutches for a while. After that embarrassing misunderstanding, they find the way down into the lower floors of the castle, but before they go, they want to make sure there’s no chance of anything coming behind them, so they investigate every room on the upper floor. Ordinarily, going around provoking everything in a dungeon and having back-to-back combat encounters would be inadvisable, but they’re 24 men strong. They find a room full of giant rats and shoot them to death with crossbow bolts. They find a giant lizard thing asleep on a rock and shoot it to death with crossbow bolts. They find a giant snake in its nest and shoot it to death with crossbow bolts. Then a giant tick drops from the ceiling and bites into Abigail, the youngest White Company member present, right through her mail armor. They stab it to death but its sucker thing is buried deep in there and they can’t just pull it out because it’s got barbs. She was at very low HP after the initial bite and just ripping the thing out could easily nick the artery and kill her. Luckily, Herr Rike(Fighter-Thief) and all around unpleasant woman, is also a barber-surgeon, and several of the spellcasters can provide a limited amount of magical healing. She had to strip down while the men averted their eyes and stood watch. While Abigail, teary-eyed, bit down on the shaft of a crossbow bolt, Rike was able to carefully cut the thing out of her, with magical healing coming right after to ensure that this doesn’t, well, completely disable the use of her arm. After a few moments of recovery (accelerated by the magic), Abigail got dressed again, and soon had the gruff men of the Badger Company clapping her on the back and congratulating her for making it through that. “We’ve all been there!” “Yer a real mercenary now!” “That’ll put some hair on yer chest, figuratively!”

(I’m making sure to include all this stuff in detail to dispel the myth that “dungeon crawling means no roleplaying.” That part kinda was “back-to-back combat” but only because the party went out of their way to find every monster, all of which could’ve been avoided otherwise.)

Each of these encounters lasted like 1 combat round and less than 15 minutes of real time even with that many characters, because AD&D2e combat doesn’t fucking suck.

There was some treasure to find too, pretty valuable stuff, but for the sake of this not being even more overly long the only thing I’m going to mention is a large jug of lamp oil.

Descending the stairs, a man and woman of the Badger Company were suddenly dropped down on by two acidic green slimes. The party quickly discovered that these could not be conventionally attacked, especially not while they’re clinging to the distressed Badger Company members. Slicing and stabbing the slimes with swords does nothing obviously, and risks further injuring their allies.

Thinking quickly, Abigail has the idea to try scraping and shoveling the slime off with her shield, which kind of works, and everyone with a shield follows suit. The slimed Badger Company mercs survive, managing to avoid total disfigurement too, but are in no condition to continue. Their armor and helmets and weapons have been ruined by the acid and they’ve lost a lot of skin. Everyone whose shield was used to shovel off the slime also lost their shields as the acid ruined them.

The man and woman that got slimed had to go up stairs and wait for the return of the larger group, it was a really good thing that the party checked every corner of the upper floor and killed anything that could be a danger to two unarmed and critically wounded people. Herr Rike was the one who told them to go upstairs as she poured water over their wounds, washing away acid and chunks of melted skin, and, sarcastically in her horrible voice, said that everyone would vouch for the woman’s virginity.* Herr Rike’s voice “sounds like a saw.”

*In the Middle Ages, an unmarried woman’s virginity was pretty important to her societal respect, and if she was left alone with a lone man for too long, someone may call her virginity into question. Of course the joke here is that everyone knows that no matter what, they aren’t going to get it on while bits of their skin are still sliding off. None of the Badger Company thought it was very funny.

With the slimes pooled on the ground, they were hardly a threat, they’re super slow and you could just sorta step around them, but they still needed to be dealt with to not become a problem later. Herr Rike went back upstairs and got that jug of lamp oil and poured it on and around the slimes and lit them on fire. That killed them.

So now the party is down two fighters and nearly all of their shields.

It’s dark down here obviously, and several people are carrying torches. Going is a bit slower in the poor lighting. Herr Rike makes a Detect Noise* check. She hears something like faint grinding of stone to the east. This huge band of armed and armored men coming into the castle has definitely made a ton of noise, so Rike’s impression of this sound is that the bad guys have heard them coming, and hid behind some kind of secret door in the stone walls. She tells everyone to keep a look out for any weird cracks in the walls.

*AD&D2e doesn’t have Perception like D&D5e. If it’s in front of them they can see it, if it’s making noise they can hear it, if it stinks they can smell it, etc. However, characters of the Thief class can make a skill check to listen closely for the chance to hear extremely faint sounds that wouldn’t normally be audible.

They check a few yards to the west first, finding two sturdy doors with fine, brand new inset locks on them. Rike tries, but fails to get through these in any way, so they move on to the south and find a long hallway full of cell doors. In the cells are months-old rotten corpses with visible wounds in most of them. It doesn’t look like the starved to death. The stench is almost overwhelming so they turn back and go north to the last door.

To the north they go through a room filled with, like, garbage. Dirt, broken bits of wooden furniture, rotten animal hides, and even what might be feces. Everyone is checking the ceilings carefully now too after the tick and the slimes, and this ceiling looks like it’s on its way to caving in, but not any immediate danger. They go to a door on the far end of the garbage room and open it. All the while, Herr Rike is checking for traps both passively* and actively. There don’t seem to be any traps, but the stench of the next room still hits them like a wall and makes Abigail and some of the others gag. It smells like “unwashed flesh,” in modern terms, it smells like a Magic: The Gathering tournament in there. Rike is unphased, and hisses out into the darkness “Come out, I can smell you.”

*Like I said before about perception, the main way to check for traps is just the player asking the DM “does my character see any weird stones on the floor ahead? Can he see a tripwire behind the door? When he opens the door, can he nudge it open with his sword while standing to the side in case anything shoots out?” and so on, but Thieves can also make skill checks to passively notice them on top of that.

After a few seconds, there’s a loud, low growl from the far corner. “I can smell you too..”

An enormous, grotesque figure steps into the edge of the torchlight. He’s easily nine feet tall and looks like if you took an already large man and stretched him out in all the wrong ways. He’s wearing a loincloth and a huge cape of animal hide, and carrying a full sized halberd that he’s big enough to use as a one-handed weapon. He scrapes it along the ground menacingly, making a horrible sound, but not the same sound that Rike heard earlier with her Detect Noise ability.

Rike doesn’t back away, but holds her crossbow casually in the crook of her arm. They’re about 10 feet from each other. She says in her hoarse, raspy whisper. “So, you can talk. Do you have a name?”

The hulking monster growls his answer. “Lubash. Do you?” He sounds almost as bad as Rike.

“Yes.”

“Hmph. Rude not to answer..” he grunts in annoyance.

“What are you doing down here, Lubash?”

“I guard this place for the people here. Eat people who come in.” He grins, showing jagged and pointy teeth. “Great gig.”

“Congratulations. Do you know who you work for, Lubash?”

“Do you?”

“No, we’re here to find that out.”

“Good luck...” He grins again.

“Thank you, Lubash. Are you going to get in our way?”

Lubash Points his halberd towards the doorway where Rike stands, looking behind her at the dozens of armored men carrying swords, polearms, and crossbows. “No. I go out there, I die. You come in here, you die.”

“We can agree to those terms. Where do that door behind you lead?”

“That’s my pantry.”

Rike nods. She’s not 100% sure that she believes him, but there’s no dice roll for that in AD&D2e, so it’s up to logic and the DM’s description of Lubash’s body language. She decides that even if he is lying, that she would rather not press him and get in the way of that halberd until she has exhausted all her other options. “One more thing, Lubash. Do you know your bosses are holding out on you?”

“How?”

“There’s a dozen corpses in the cells down the hall. They aren’t letting you eat those?”

“No, those aren’t mine, here before I got here. Nasty, rotten.”

Rike attempted to weaken Lubash’s trust with his bosses, but seemingly to no avail. She said goodbye to Lubash and closed the door, then she sprinkled more of the lamp oil all around the floor and flammable objects of the garbage room, and left the other door to the garbage room just slightly open, propping the jug up on top of it, so that if Lubash tries to follow them, he’ll get a nasty splash and then go up on flames at a brush with one of their torches. Plus, the shattering of the jar would alert them.

Now despite the smell, the path of least resistance was south, past the wall of cells with dead bodies in them.

Rike moved forward, noticing nothing out of the ordinary except a greater amount of dust in the mostly empty room further down compared to the rest of the place so far, as if no one had been down there in a long time. It wasn’t exactly *obvious* in hindsight, but she should have known better still. As she stepped into the room down the hall, there was a faint flash of light as she seemingly crossed some kind of invisible line, a magical trap! Someone with more knowledge of magic might have been able to see more of the signs if they were in front, but it was already too late. There was a shuffling sound from the cells as all twelve of the corpses rose to their feet. Most mercenaries immediately realized what was happening, and everyone quickly readied their weapons, falling into formation shoulder-to-shoulder with the archers and spellcasters in back, and three men in reserve watching the doorway with the jug in case Lubash decided to try and make a move for them while they were preoccupied. The line was close to the cell doors, with gaps where every other man stood a few feet back, creating mini chokepoints and kill zones at each door where each one corpse would trickle through and have to fight alone against three mercenaries rather than meeting them all at once. Ceridwen, a druid spellcaster, cast a spell, Fairy Fire, which highlighted the first row of walking corpses in the dark, giving the party a bonus to attack rolls against them.

The dozen walking corpses stood and shambled forward slowly enough that the mercenaries got 2 rounds to act before they were upon them. They shot a volley of crossbow bolts and arrows. The projectiles sunk deep into rotten eye sockets, chests, and shoulders, but at best it just made some of them stumble. Another volley. Even more hit this time, with a couple of criticals for what should’ve been massive damage, but the undead just kept walking forward until they reached the line of spears and swords. In mechanical terms it seemed that they took reduced or possibly even zero damage from piercing attacks like crossbow bolts.

Both players and characters started to get pretty nervous as we started rolling for all these melee attacks and it started to seem like despite stabbing big holes in them with spears and slicing off hands and arms with swords, the undead just didn’t stop. It was the last melee attack of the mercenaries’ round that finally “killed” one. One of the mercenaries using a quarterstaff managed to crush one’s head against the stone wall and it finally stopped moving. Seeing this, those that had them, which was quite few, switched weapons to clubs, thinking that the only way might be to bash them with bludgeoning damage. After another round, another corpse was “killed” with a sword, but it’s still possible that they only take half-damage from slashing weapons. Chrysanthemum, another White Company fighter, brought her weighted grain flail down on another corpse, shattering its skull with such force that flecks of bone sprinkled everyone around. She let out a girlish squeal of disgust.

Piercing weapons were definitely a no-go after one of the corpses just kept walking down the shaft of a spear after being impaled, and grabbed the spearman’s neck, pulling at it until it ripped a small hole in the front, dropping the man into a pool of blood. Another woman was hit so had in the head by one of the corpses unnaturally strong blows that she would’ve surely died if not wearing a helmet. She could still stand, but had to swap out, an archer from the back drawing his sword and stepping in to take her place. One of the other militiamen grabbed the bleeding man and hoisted him backwards out from under the feet of the melee, where Ceridwen quickly got down on her knees to bandage the wound, even though it seemed futile. For his trouble, as his attention was momentarily averted, the militiaman who pulled him back was lunged upon and grabbed into a bear hug by another corpse. He could hardly yell as three ribs cracked in quick succession.

Rike beat that one’s skull in with her baton until it loosened its grip, but she and Abigail still had to pry its arms off before the critically wounded man could be dragged off the front line. With was another round of chopping and beating the remaining corpses down before the coast seemed clear.

The whole combat sequence lasted maybe 6 rounds, and took about 45 minutes of real time, even with over 30 combatants total to make rolls for. It was a nail biter, and would’ve been much worse if the mercenaries hadn’t made such good use of positioning and formation.

Rike quickly went to see to the wounded with Ceridwen. Putting her ear to the crushed man’s chest, she could tell that he hadn’t punctured a lung, but it would still be best to move him as little as possible. She then set to helping Ceridwen carefully clean and bandage the other man’s neck wound. She tended to him last because, having seen the wound happen, she knew that if he hadn’t bled out of suffocated before she got to him, that would be the only indication that he could be saved.

It might as well have been a miracle. The wound exposed part of his trachea, but just missed the jugular and carotid. As long as it was kept clean and bandaged, he had a chance to live. The men cheered and praised God as loudly as they dared to in this place.

As Rike stood up from him, she commanded four of the men to make a stretcher out of an old tent and carefully carry the crushed man upstairs. She jerked her head to the side to indicate the bleeding man, the motion just for an instant shifting her mail gorget and helmet’s visor enough to expose the rough, pale scar tissue across her own throat, speaking in her raspy whisper of a voice. “He can walk.”

The party regrouped after taking the wounded men upstairs. (Again, really really good thing they made the call to hunt down and kill everything on the upper floor.) This hallway was the furthest east they had been, but it seemed to be a dead end. Rike and Ceridwen set to work looking for that secret door. It took about half an hour of searching (in game time, like 1 minute of describing their actions in real time) before Ceridwen found something. She pulled it, and a wall nearby slowly slid down, exposing a narrow passageway.

The funny thing was, the sound of that secret door opening was absolutely not the sound that Rike hear with her Detect Noise ability earlier either, and the dust and cobwebs beyond indicated that this secret passage had not been used in months. So, like, even though they thought they heard a secret door, they were wrong, and it’s only through dumb luck that they stumbled upon this. Like a broken clock.

That’s where we left off in the last session.

Sorry that was long as fuck but I hope this paints a clearer picture of what a classic “dungeon crawl” is actually like to those of you who have never experienced one.

Oh and if you’re wondering the DM told us later that those walking corpses take normal damage from Slashing and Bludgeoning attacks but always 1 damage from Piercing attacks.

"D&D can do anything" and "I don't like dungeon crawls, I enjoy real role-playing" are two statements that often go hand-in-hand and the ironic thing is that the latter statement betrays a very shallow understanding of role-playing while being really snobby. What's even more hilarious is that it's like baby's first RPG elitism, like yeah most people go through a "I like real role-playing" phase but to go through it while putting on airs about the dungeon game while at the same time dismissing dungeon games is real funny.

Anyway, wherever people pick up the idea that dungeon-crawling, the playstyle most supported by D&D, is somehow pedestrian, it very quickly leads to bargaining, like surely if dungeon-crawling is actually bad and for babies then D&D must be capable of so much more, right? Well, truth is, not really, D&D kind of sucks for things besides that.

Where a lot of people go wrong at this point is contending that therefore D&D must be flawed as a role-playing game: like, if it actually kind of sucks for most playstyles besides dungeon-crawling and we've already decided that dungeon-crawling isn't real role-playing, then surely D&D must be bad as a role-playing game?

The issue of course is that most people don't ever interrogate their starting assumption of dungeon-crawls being bad. And truth be told most people who claim to hate dungeon-crawls have never actually played a dungeon-crawl. At most they've played a dungeon-crawl themed linear succession of combat encounters. (I remember this: once when I posted about dungeon-crawls being good, actually, someone responded with a "well I can see the appeal but personally I couldn't enjoy a game that's just back-to-back combat" which is a whole misunderstanding of dungeon-crawls as a genre.)

Anyway so the great thing is that once you re-examine your assumptions about what counts as "real role-playing" and conclude that a dungeon-crawl is as much real role-playing as whatever the fuck Critical Role is doing then you find whole new vectors of being a snooty blowhard and it rules. You can make fun of D&D players in so many new ways,

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

i love it when bad is very specifically a good roleplayer by giving other people good prompts. like casually bringing up wilbur now to tallulah. or when he put missa in the petting zoo. or all those times he Tormented the Lesbians so they could protect each other from him. its just so !!!! I love watching roleplayers be considerate of other roleplayers and gleefully hand over something they Know the other person's character can react to. i've seen cellbit do it, too (that time he handed his knife to bbh. oh my god). it's not a rare thing, and it's possible to be a good roleplayer without keeping that sort of considerate back and forth in mind, but its one of my favourite things to notice. foolish does it too, sometimes- i haven't watched him much, but i did take note of when he Made Sure to bring jaiden along with him on a cucurucho quest. and basically every interaction he had with bad when the eggs were missing. its just so so good

[voidcat-senket]

You know that one unfinished fic that you love that tragically doesn't seem to be updating anymore? There's a secret to increasing your chances of getting it to update! Use this One Simple Trick! Leave a review saying you love it.

[seitmai]

You don’t know fully why playing in the rain was the best thing, but it was almost magical. Maybe it was just your best friend being with you. Maybe it was because the noise of the life of the rich stopped for a few minutes, and the water washed away all your etiquette. A time where the two of you could just be kids.

This just sounds so beautiful 🥰

“No,” you sigh. You love Carter. There are some adjustments that you’ll have to continue to get used to. Things have moved rapidly since the engagement. And he still hadn’t met the most important person in your life. The second most important — that just didn’t seem right. But Carter should be the first, right?

I would say yes, so questioning this is saying a lot 🫣

“You’re just leaving when we should be planning our wedding,” he looks down at your hand, twisting around the too big ring he placed on your finger. What was your sister thinking? Or did he ask? Too bad he didn’t ask Ransom what would be the perfect ring.

Ransom pulls out the invite. His eyes move over the pristine and gaudy paper before he lets it fall back to the table. Looking into the distance with even more confusion than ever. “She’d never agree to get married at the Liberty,” Linda shrugs as she walks to the other end of the table. “She was going to get married under our tree.” “Ahh, you see the problem with that statement?” Ransom’s face turns up in disgust as he shakes his head. “‘Our tree’ and she’s marrying another man?”

Linda is telling Ransom the facts that he needed to hear

Did he know that you didn’t like the city? That you’d prefer to wear Ransom’s sweaters than fancy dresses? Did he know how many children you wanted to have? And how they would have unique names that he helped pick out? Did he know that you haven’t been the same since your mother passed? Did he know that you hate people, and use him as a shield against that? That you’re painfully shy, and get so exhausted after being around a crowd, and dance helped you? Did Carter even know that you hated your birthstone, so claimed smokey quartz as yours because of its protective qualities?

🥺🥺🥺

Ransom nods his head, still looking at you, and Linda already sees the too far gone look. “Here,” she pulls out a bag from the pharmacist, and lays it on his dresser. “Be careful. And I’m not condoning this, I just need you to be smart with this one.” “Nothing happened,” he’s barely audible. He wished his mother would just leave so he could soak you up. You were exhausted. “And I wasn’t born yesterday. That’s a Plan B pill. She needs to take it today. Gerald would not be happy with his baby girl winding up pregnant before she went to NYU. He wants to see her dance just like her mom,” Ransom rolls his eyes. Whispering for her to go. “I mean it, son.”

Haha I love Linda 😅

Nothing else matters in this world but the way Ransom is railing into you. The way he grunts with every thrust. The girls he’s probably fucked didn’t matter because there’s no way he fucks them the way he does you. There’s no way that he stares at their cunt like it could solve the world’s problems. And there’s no way that he feels about them the way he feels about you.

I'm sure he doesn't 🤭😮‍💨

“Watching myself leak out of someone for the first time. And yeah, that thing I did last night is cleaning you up. Never settle for a man that doesn’t want to give you the best aftercare, and cuddle afterwards,” oh. So he was still in the mindset of this was just practice amongst friends. You can be, too. He was right after all, a messy breakup wasn’t worth losing a friendship.

Damn that hurt

When The Rain Gathers..., Part 1

Summary: You thought that things with Ransom were simple. They were supposed to be. So why when you announce your marriage to Carter Baizen, and the now fast approaching wedding did things get so complicated? It was supposed to be you and Ransom versus the world. And now everyone wants to split the two of you apart. Ransom is your best friend, the man that had all your firsts. And even if people, and Carter are trying to pull you apart, you're not ready to say goodbye to the best thing in your life...

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale X Reader, Carter Baizen X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, mentions of loss of innocence, teasing, slight possessiveness, pining, creampie, Plan B, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.6K

Series Masterlist

You take in a full, deep inhale. Sensing and smelling the impending rain with a smile on your face. Ignoring the packed boxes behind you because your family home has always been the best place. Your bedroom and all the secret ways to get out of this castle that led you straight next door. You bite on your lip, trying to hide the grin that spreads on your face as you see his little boy bedroom. Memories flooding into your mind of the most amazing childhood with him.

You can see two kids, hand in hand, running away from these houses, and further into a fairytale world. A world where everything was so much simpler. A world of running to the highest hill in the area with the biggest and best climbing tree, and waiting. Watching as the sky got a bit darker. Time stops until that moment of the first drop of rain, and you and Ransom would chase each other. Dance. Sing at the top of your lungs. The rain creating an invisibility cloak around you.

You don’t know fully why playing in the rain was the best thing, but it was almost magical. Maybe it was just your best friend being with you. Maybe it was because the noise of the life of the rich stopped for a few minutes, and the water washed away all your etiquette. A time where the two of you could just be kids.

If the rain went on too long, the two of you would mosey on up to Harlan’s house. If the rain wasn’t long enough, you’d climb that giant oak tree, and sit and talk about the future. Your feet dangling off that perfect branch, while you held each other’s hands and talked about what you wanted in life.

“Sweetheart,” this is not where you saw yourself. His hands slide from your back all the way around your middle, connecting at the hands before he pulls you into his front. Carter rests his chin on your head as he looks at the distant house, and right into Ransom’s old bedroom. His parents have long since left that house. Now it was your parents’ turn, and everything feels like it’s changing.

“Are you about to finish here?” Conveniently Carter had a business call that stole his time away from going through your childhood memories or even plan your wedding. You aren’t sure if you were hearing things, but it sounded as if he scoffed at the many photos of you and Ransom in here before he hugged you.

“Yeah, and you’re about ready to fly out of town?”

“That would be part of the job,” he spins you around to look at him. His steel blue eyes raking over your face. “Are you angry?”

“No,” you sigh. You love Carter. There are some adjustments that you’ll have to continue to get used to. Things have moved rapidly since the engagement. And he still hadn’t met the most important person in your life. The second most important — that just didn’t seem right. But Carter should be the first, right?

“You’re just leaving when we should be planning our wedding,” he looks down at your hand, twisting around the too big ring he placed on your finger. What was your sister thinking? Or did he ask? Too bad he didn’t ask Ransom what would be the perfect ring. Ransom knew in detail, because he had the gall to ask during your first year in college, and you divulged everything that you wanted.

“You won’t get to be there for flowers, cake, and you won’t get to see the location site,” Carter releases an annoyed huff of air. “You’ve never even seen Harlan’s estate.”

“Why would we get married there?” This is one thing that annoyed you. He never understood the importance of Harlan’s property. “Under a tree that my fiancé dangled her little legs on, sitting next to a man that is in love with you.”

“No, he’s not. Ransom is my best friend,” Carter rolls his eyes, but maintains his smile. “He is,” you laugh because this conversation kept happening, and he had never met Ransom. He didn’t know the dynamic between the two of you. “It’s been a dream of mine to get married there.”

“We’ll talk about it some other time. I’m not heading to the airport with this as our last conversation,” if Carter said no, it wouldn’t matter anyways. He and his family would get what they wanted with the wedding, but at least you were getting him as a husband. But time is running out to find a location elsewhere.

“Then could you at least just think about it and consider it? Please? Pretty pretty please?” Carter chuckles, pulling you closer to him to give you a chaste kiss. “At least look at it?”

“Yes, I’ll consider it. You can show me in a FaceTime call, but I still deep down don’t think it’s our best option. I want everyone to feel comfortable, and I don’t think my family would feel that there. So can you respect that?” You smile, wiggling around, and nodding your head. Yes, you can respect that, as long as he will look at it, and give it a chance. A FaceTime won’t do the property justice. Harlan’s estate meant and still means so much to you. It’s the thing that never changes.

“Okay, tell me you love me,” his voice hits that beautiful tone that makes you want to jump into his arms.

“I love you, and do we have time…”

“No, we don’t. I wish. I could use the feeling of you on me before I traveled to work. Love you, and I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, okay?” He walks backwards, his hand starting to slide out of your own, and you nod. A couple of weeks wouldn’t be so bad. And then a week. And then a marriage. That was the bad part. No, the scary part. No…intimidating part.

You still didn’t understand why he and his mother felt the need to rush this marriage. What could possibly be done in that little amount of time? You guessed with enough money, anything is possible.

Linda walks by her son at the table, stalling while she stares at him. Looking at nothing with his chin resting on his hands is all he ever does now. She walks back towards a table, and grabs up a beautifully intricate invitation and drops it on the table in front of her son. “Is this what’s bothering you?”

“What is this?” He looks at her confused. Flipping over the envelope he sees a broken wax seal with a giant B on it. “Mother?”

“I’m a bit confused on why you wouldn’t know. Open it.”

Ransom pulls out the invite. His eyes move over the pristine and gaudy paper before he lets it fall back to the table. Looking into the distance with even more confusion than ever. “She’d never agree to get married at the Liberty,” Linda shrugs as she walks to the other end of the table. “She was going to get married under our tree.”

“Ahh, you see the problem with that statement?” Ransom’s face turns up in disgust as he shakes his head. “‘Our tree’ and she’s marrying another man?”

“I figured she would always marry another man,” Linda rolls her eyes as she cuts her steak. “What?”

“Because you didn’t admit your true feelings to her.”

“She has never felt anything romantic towards me,” Ransom bitterly rolls his eyes as he stuffs a bite of food into his mouth.

“Who was her first kiss?” Ransom rolls his eyes again, taking a long drink of his beer. “Her first sexual encounter? Did you forget telling me the next evening that she begged you to have sex with her because she didn’t want to go to university as a virgin?”

“I — it wasn’t like that.”

“Okay,” Linda finishes, taking a bite of her food, but Ransom still stews. “You didn’t get an invitation?” He shakes his head no. His eyes glaring at the stupid piece of paper. It was too pure and white. It wasn’t you at all. Your sister, maybe, but not you. “You can be my plus one then. Also, she invited me to go shopping with her for the dress. Since her mother passed, she wants someone that knows her. She said she was calling you.”

“I just found out that she was engaged, and she mentioned going dress shopping, but…this date, it’s too soon. What the fuck is going on?” Linda clears her throat. “Don’t act like you don’t use profanity.”

“I am trying to do better. At least at the dinner table. And the Baizens don’t like long engagements,” Ransom groans. The Baizens. “Yeah, she’ll be moving to New York. She’ll look beautiful on his arm,” but will he play in the rain with you? Will he know that Ransom explored your virginal folds and you told him what you liked when it came to oral sex? Does Carter Francis Baizen III know that you liked your clit to be nipped?

Did he know that you didn’t like the city? That you’d prefer to wear Ransom’s sweaters than fancy dresses? Did he know how many children you wanted to have? And how they would have unique names that he helped pick out? Did he know that you haven’t been the same since your mother passed? Did he know that you hate people, and use him as a shield against that? That you’re painfully shy, and get so exhausted after being around a crowd, and dance helped you? Did Carter even know that you hated your birthstone, so claimed smokey quartz as yours because of its protective qualities?

He doubted Carter knows anything about you with how quickly this relationship has happened. Did you even know yourself anymore? “Did you give her your ring?”

Linda sighs, waiting on Ransom to look up at her before shaking her head. “It didn’t feel right.”

“Why?”

“He didn’t ask me for it, and I always thought I’d be giving it to you for when you got your head out of your ass and proposed to the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to you,” Ransom looks up at her pouting. “Oh don’t be daft, Ransom. Everyone knows you carry a torch for that girl. You’d marry her tomorrow if she asked. The problem is you wait on her to ask, and she’s never going to. Because she’s too stubborn to admit that she’s in love with you, too.”

Ransom takes a bite of his food, looking at his less than desirable plate. Everything his mom is saying is a lie. You didn’t have any romantic feelings for him. He knew it that next morning. He knew then he was madly in love with you, and you had just been using him as a teacher, and if that’s the only way he could have you in that way, he’d take it

Ransom peers over your spent body. How had it only been a few hours since he finally got to have you in the most intimate of ways. Watch you as your walls came tumbling down, and you gripped tight on more than just his dick. Your hands clung to him. Your eyes couldn’t look away. Capturing him in a way that literally stole his breath away.

And after he cleaned you up, all you wanted was his worn in sweater. It swallowed you whole, and then you put on the most beautiful delicate panties. And now you’re in his bed in a fetal position with your ass right at his crotch. Perfect in ways he didn’t even realize. You were made for him in more ways than he realized.

Sweetly whimpering, you gazed down at where the two of you connected as he pushed through your walls. Nothing but skin on skin, and your wide innocent eyes. Gasping and choking as he slid all the way home. Your squirming wasn’t enough to deter him. You begged, and pleaded for him to show you what the big deal was with sex, and even he couldn’t explain it, until he had you. And everything was otherworldly.

You were overwhelmed, and he couldn’t regulate his breathing. But now that you’re lying next to him blissed out with your post-coital glow, it all makes sense. You may not know it, but you were made for him. You wiggle closer to him, exposing those sinful innocent panties even more, and he places a hand on your hip. Sliding it up and down over your stomach.

He loved you, but now he is completely, utterly, and unapologetically in love with you. He doesn’t even take his eyes off you when the door slowly opens. Linda peeks through the room, and shakes her head sighing. “Your father and I are going to head out for the day. Be smart.”

Ransom nods his head, still looking at you, and Linda already sees the too far gone look. “Here,” she pulls out a bag from the pharmacist, and lays it on his dresser. “Be careful. And I’m not condoning this, I just need you to be smart with this one.”

“Nothing happened,” he’s barely audible. He wished his mother would just leave so he could soak you up. You were exhausted.

“And I wasn’t born yesterday. That’s a Plan B pill. She needs to take it today. Gerald would not be happy with his baby girl winding up pregnant before she went to NYU. He wants to see her dance just like her mom,” Ransom rolls his eyes. Whispering for her to go. “I mean it, son.”

He didn’t care what she thought, he cared what you thought. If you told him today that you didn’t want to go into the city, and didn’t want to strap on another pair of pointe shoes, and didn’t know how to tell your dad, he’d grab your hand, and flee to whatever country you wanted to go to.

He’s not sure how long he lays here, watching you. Kissing over your exposed shoulder. Rubbing over your skin, and maybe selfishing touching your heated mound. But it would never be long enough. This is what he wants for life. You yawn, stirring more before sitting up. Wincing as you do, and you turn back to find Ransom snickering.

“You’re not that big.”

“And just how many cocks have you seen, Belle?” You turn back to look at the door. You should leave soon. You’re surprised that Linda hadn’t come in to tell you it was time to go home. “Mom and dad left. You want to watch a movie?”

He rolls over to his back, and suddenly you feel so empty. So alone, and he’s right there. Things feel the same, and also so very different because whatever last night was you want to do it again. Want to feel him pushing into you, feel his heated breath on your skin, see the sweat beading around his hair. And you asked him so many questions last night. Embarrassing questions, but he answered earnestly.

“They’re gone?” Maybe you didn’t have to leave. You didn’t want to. What you wanted was to try sex again.

“Yeah, she left you a Plan B over there,” you hide your face as every part of you heats up. “It’s fine. She thinks we’ve been sleeping together since we were fifteen years old.”

“That doesn’t help,” you whine, still cowering behind your hands. You had a thought, and then it was squashed.

“At least now you don’t have to go buy one,” you had mentioned it, but Ransom still pulled out of you. You wanted to give all of Ransom your firsts, not sure of why, but you felt like he owned all of them; deserved all your firsts. “Just watch a movie with me. Cuddle with me, and forget we ever had sex, okay?”

“Fine,” you harrumph, twisting over to your other side and face Ransom. Just like normal you lay your head and a hand on his chest. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer, and you caress his bare stomach. Everything is just like normal.

Ransom starts a movie, and you can't focus on anything but him. One time wasn’t enough to learn anything. You were awkward, and stayed in one position. You didn’t try anything. Nothing. This whore of a man stayed having sex, while you waited on him to finish, and would sneak into your bedroom, or you’d sneak into his once you saw the car leave.

Clearly he is feeling the same thing, judging by the tent lifting the blanket, but he says nothing. Not a damn thing. Your body is so heated and wet, you’re ready to burst. You want to try other positions. You want to ride him — ride a dick. You want to fuck in doggy style. And you want to feel cum inside you, not on your stomach.

“Ran,” you make your voice so sweet, and he swats your ass. “Hugh!”

“No! I fucking feel your pussy throbbing on my thigh, and it’s making me hard. It’s my body’s response. Don’t ask!”

“But you’re hard, and you didn’t show me nearly enough,” he spanks your ass again, growling when you whimper. “The Plan B is right over there,” you say loudly, sitting up in bed. “You're hard, I’m wet, and I don’t know how to ride dick. Or how to do it doggy style.”

“Get on all fours. It’s not complicated,” why is he denying you what you want? You wrap your arms around yourself pouting, and he looks back to the movie. Ignoring you completely. He’d fuck girls all weekend, but is denying his best friend. It’s cruel. What do they do that make him not want to stop? They were more aggressive.

Smiling, you clamor over top of him, straddling him as you demand attention. “Look at me.”

“I am. There’s literally nothing else to look at.”

Reaching to the bottom hemline of his sweater, you pull it off you, “Look at me,” he’s looking everywhere but your face. Eyes glossing over as he stares at your tits. It feels nice sitting like this. There’s so much — heat. You need friction. Movement. Think of porn. How do they move on someone? You roll your hips, getting a loud groan from Ransom, so you keep going.

“Touch me,” you whimper, pulling up his hands to place on your tits. “Grope me. Show me what you do to those other girls.”

“No,” he responds flatly.

“Why?” Even though he says no, his hands knead your breasts. Pinching and pulling your nipples as he starts sitting up in the bed. His mouth moving closer to your tits.

“Because I didn’t care about them. They were just a wet hole,” you push him back down onto the bed, and he laughs.

“It’s not funny. What if someone treated me like that?” His face darkens as he looks up at you through his lashes. He is nearly baring his teeth like a wild dog. “What if some man at college uses me just for sex? I don’t want sex to be like that for me. I want it with someone I love.”

“It’s a dangerous game we’re playing,” you know it is. But if you have to play a game, it is going to be with Ransom.

“Just today. Until your parents get back. I want you to explore me. Teach me. Show me. Tell me how to know if a man wants my body or if he wants my heart,” Ransom sits up abruptly, moving his hands to cup your tits. Leaning forward his mouth circles around the sensitive bud, and his teeth scrape over the area, and you arch your back, pushing more into him.

“You’re too eager, and too sensitive. Minimum of five dates before anything moves past your mouths, not even oral. Clothes stay on,” you nod as he moves to the other nipple, and he sucks roughly. His tongue is able to circle around the peak before he pulls off with a pop.

“Remember you deserve the world. Don’t settle for some idiot at a bodega. You need someone that can give you a life of travel, wandering the world, and not having to worry about money. You nod again as he taps your leg, “Lift up a bit.”

Enthusiastically you completely get off him. Standing up on the floor where you shimmy out of your panties. Watching as he slides his boxers down, and you’re already bouncing back to the bed. “Easy. Don’t act like this for others. They’ll take advantage of you. Alright, straddle me, and grab the base of my cock.”

You listen, and start sinking over him. “No, guide me through your wetness. Use your body as lube,” you follow his directions, moving his head through your folds. “Now, find your hole, and slowly sink down. There ya go. Keep going, Belle. Keep taking me,” you sink, chest heaving as you feel him inside you. “Just like that, baby. Just like that. Take all of me. Don’t stop.”

You don’t. You keep taking all of him, until you’ve seated yourself back on top of him. “Now, just let your body adjust to me. Breathe in and out,” he holds up his hands, and you weave your fingers into his. Focusing on breathing, instead of the intense stretch he’s giving your body. You can feel him up to your ears. What is the normal size of a dick? Or is it everything else? Because he’s your Ransom.

“Belle,” his sickeningly sweet nickname for you rings up into your ears, and you can’t help but to roll your hips. “Fuck,” Ransom whispers as you start a slow pace of grinding on him. You look down at him smiling, “What?”

“This doesn’t feel the same,” this feels weaker than whatever he was doing to you last night.

“Because you’re on top, and there’s really not any thrusting,” you curl your nose as you look at him. “It feels amazing, sweetheart, but it’s just stimulating your clit.”

His hands grope the globs of your ass, and he lifts you up, only to let your cunt suck him back up, and a pleasured sigh releases from your mouth. “See. Try it. But just move to make it feel good. I’m enjoying the view of these little bitty titties. Maybe you can make them bounce.”

“You’re so gross.”

You awkwardly move over him a few times, glad it’s Ransom and not some random man that would realize how inexperienced you are. “Here,” he grabs your hands, placing them on his chest, “This anchors yourself, but also makes those tits look phenomenal. Arch your back, and pop your ass, and then contract it. Don’t overcomplicate the movement. And add pressure to me. It won’t hurt, I promise.”

“Pinky promise?”

He smiles, smacking your ass. His face lighting up when you yip, “I promise, now ride that dick,” you want to make a comment to him, but instead it comes out in a weird moan. “You like that, huh?”

“Like what?”

Ransom gets the most devious look on his face, and he grabs your hips, assisting a slow bounce on top of him. “You like someone talking dirty to you? Like hearing that your pussy is so fucking tight hugging my fat cock? Do you like knowing you look like a beautiful little slut, instead of a perfectly poised ballerina? Your training is better suited riding my cock like you own it.”

Your legs tremble with his words. You feel that you’re killing Ransom with how much pressure you have on his chest, but still he talks too filthy to you. “You’re taking me extra deep at this angle, huh? And if you want me to fuck you into the bed, you better make yourself come first.”

“Ransom,” you mewl, finding the most perfect rhythm to take him. Bouncing on top of him quickly. “Hugh,” you feel his cock throb inside of you, and fall on top of his chest, continuing to buck your hips on him. “I feel your heartbeat.”

“You’re laying on my chest, Belle, of course you do. You’re taking me so good, too.”

“No,” his hands smooth up and down your arms, and you feel so safe. Protected in ways that nobody else could. Ransom has always been your best friend. You're solid. The best thing that’s ever happened to you. You would share everything with him. Your life, your dreams, and now your body. “I feel your heart inside of me.”

You sling yourself off Ransom’s stomach, watching his handsome face contort. “Do I feel good?”

“This is best pussy I have ever felt,” he whispers. His fingers create bruises on your skin with how tightly he holds you. “Let me know if I hurt you. I’m trying not to come yet,” you nod, continuing to move over top of him. Whimpering at the sounds the your two wet bodies make in his quiet bedroom. “It’s the best, Belle. Because I actually love you. Put your hands on my thighs, and back.”

“But…you’re going to see everything.”

“That’s the point,” he lifts your hands off his chest. His crooked smirk makes him look more boyish than manlike. “We like seeing your body, but also seeing us slipping into you,” with your mouth turning into an ‘O’, and you do as he asked. Keeping your eyes on him, but he stares at your cunt swallowing him whole.

He looks beautiful watching you. You could almost see a life with the two of you as more than friends, but as lovers. Waking up and riding him every morning. Could anyone make you feel as comfortable as Ransom? Could they know the right things to say and when to say it? Could they also tease you, but never go too far? But if you chose that path with Ransom would it ruin the most perfect thing in your life? Would it be worth it to not have him in your life?

You hated to think about a life without Ransom. Without being the only one to make him smile. You were just as special to him as he was to you. And you cherish him. Even in this lewd act of the two of you changing your relationship in a way, but it feels right. It doesn’t seem grotesque of Ransom to watch your pussy. Even the way he pushes his thumb against your bundle of nerves and creates tight little circles on your skin, it seems to be for your enjoyment. He always makes everything about him.

He adds more pressure. Going faster. Faster. Smiling as your movements become harsh. Rapid. Too much. Body shivering as you set ablaze. Throwing your head back to look up at the ceiling as you sob out his name.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, but it’s so soft, like he doesn’t want you to hear.

You look back down at Ransom, and he gazes up at you like you’re a goddess. “Ran…”

”Get on your knees,” shimmying your shoulders, you position yourself like he asked. Waiting and watching as he climbs behind you. “Lean forward, and closer to the bed. Arch your back,” you do as you're told, but keep your eyes on him. He studies you like you’re a work of art. Running the tip of his head through your folds, you sink even lower, “There’s a good girl. Do you know how swollen your pussy is?”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Uh huh,” he slams himself into your warmth, and you cling to the blankets, crying out. “And I’m about to make her even more puffy,” his movements are all shocking. Skyrocketing your body further up the bed, and making your toes curl in pleasurable agony. Something so rough, shouldn’t feel this good, and yet it’s made you speechless, and gives you a loss of function in your body. It’s just euphoria.

Nothing else matters in this world but the way Ransom is railing into you. The way he grunts with every thrust. The girls he’s probably fucked didn’t matter because there’s no way he fucks them the way he does you. There’s no way that he stares at their cunt like it could solve the world’s problems. And there’s no way that he feels about them the way he feels about you.

You’ve always known that Ransom and you belonged together, but is being together this way so wrong? Is the way that he’s lighting you up, so fucking bad? You’ll probably feel differently when this is over, but right now this is too good to be wrong or a bad idea. This is everything. He’s everything. Everything with you.

“And when you want the best angle,” his arm goes under your stomach, and he pulls your back up to his chest, and somehow manages to fuck into you harder. “I get to see these perfect tits bounce around,” a hand goes around your neck, and you yearn for more pressure. “You have to tell me. Give me permission.”

“Own me. I’m yours,” he adds enough pressure around your neck, so that stars glitter in front of you. His other hand moves down your front where he stimulates your clit, and you scream, “Ransom!”

“I see all of you,” Ransom attaches his mouth to your neck, nipping, and sucking over the column until your eyes are rolling to the back of your head. Your stomach swimming with pleasure.

“I feel all of you,” you can’t stop the sounds from pouring out of your body, and the fluids. My god, why is everything so wet and sloppy? “My perfect, sloppy little slut. You know, I have a secret to tell you.”

“Come inside of me,” you’d hear about the secret later. “Your mom brought the pill. Just do it!” Everything happens so fast. His hands move around your body. Pulling, pinching, slapping, squeezing. What is this? What even is happening besides heaven?

You can’t take it anymore. This much pleasure can’t be good for one person, and you let go. Giving into the salacious pleasure, “No one has ever taken my entire cock,” Ransom says on your neck, and your walls clench down, holding him in a vice grip. Pulsing and fluttering around his body, until warm ribbons of cum burst into your belly, and you sigh. Relaxing in his embrace.

Nobody ever would feel this absolute. Because you were made for Ransom. He is so gentle as he lays you down on his bed. Walking into his en-suite with his cute tush bare to you. “Where are you going?”

He returns with a wet washcloth, and you roll over onto your back, “You’re doing that thing you did last night. What are you staring at?”

“Watching myself leak out of someone for the first time. And yeah, that thing I did last night is cleaning you up. Never settle for a man that doesn’t want to give you the best aftercare, and cuddle afterwards,” oh. So he was still in the mindset of this was just practice amongst friends. You can be, too. He was right after all, a messy breakup wasn’t worth losing a friendship.

He tosses the rag into his hamper before dropping down onto the bed, “What’s the next lesson, Ran?”

“Sucking cock like a porn star. You want to watch porn together?” you giggle, rolling your eyes at him before plopping onto the bed. Scooting closer to him.

“What?” You snuggle in closer with him. Desiring nothing more than his sticky skin on yours.

“How will you know what you want, if you don’t see what else is out there?” There is a bit of logic to this, but watching porn with Ransom would be weird, right?

“We can watch porn, if you promise to try it out with me. Just to see if I like it?” Ransom shrugs as he smiles, clicking on his phone a bit. “I’m serious!”

“You’re addicted to sex, and to my cock. Careful, Belle, I might have to dump you like the rest of them,” rolling your eyes, you settle back beside Ransom, clicking on a video before it casts to his tv. “Seriously? My stepsister let me creampie her tight little pussy?”

“No! I just clicked on something!” Mortified, you hide your face in his chest.

“You’ve ruined the algorithm now. It’s going to be step sibling porn the rest of the evening now.”

“What about best friends?”

“Is that we are?” You nod your head, and Ransom ignores you, clicking on his phone. “Here, playing truth or dare with my best friend until she lets me fuck her until I bust a load. This should satisfy your filthy self.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so good at sex.”

“Just promise me you won’t just fuck random guys. You deserve a relationship, okay?” You hold up a pinky, and Ransom wraps his own around yours. “Alright, slut, and I mean that in the most nice way possible,” and please, don’t fall in love with anyone but Ransom.

“Whore.”

“Ransom!” Ransom stares up at his mom, scowling. Years without you had hardened him. Years without your softness, and giggles, and private performances on a daily basis, and years without the way you felt on top of him. It’d been miserable. But he was trying to be happy that you had found your one.

“She’s in town,” Ransom shrugs. “Rain is in the forecast,” he smirks, pushing his chair back. “Be nice.”

“I’m always nice.”

Next

Masterlist

@tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @kmm-fluv @marvelmcumania @elrw24 @theinheriteddutchess

[sollucets]

i feel personally that this being the same binder is a fun rowan fact

[my-current-obsession]

I see a lot of people saying that the royals (mostly Alfred, but I’ve seen a fair bit of complaining about all the others too) are statistically bad in Engage. I have to wonder, what difficulty is this based off of? On my Hard playthrough most of the royals were my best units, and Alfred in particular was amazing. Ivy and Celine were probably the weakest two - Ivy due to being a bit slow and having AWFUL dex and luck, and Celine just lacking power due to splitting her attention between strength and magic.

Is it just Maddening that they’re specifically bad for? I have not (and will not) played that mode in any FE but my impression is very much that Maddening mode is a different experience and you’re basically forced to play a certain way to win. That’s probably even more true here since fixed growths are in play, so you can’t count on RNG to give you good units. You have to find the ones that the game wants you to use, and stick with them.

For me, one of the biggest joys of FE has always been the RNG of it all - I love the random growths meaning different characters shine (and suck) each run, which encourages you to give different units a try. I love that, at least on Normal and Hard, you have enough breathing room to basically play how you want - favor the units of your choice, reclass whoever into whichever classes you fancy, etc - and doing so MIGHT make your life harder but probably won’t doom your entire run. The versatility and random nature of your units growths makes strategy & combat in this game infinitely more appealing and adds to its replayability.

Like I LOVE Persona games and Stella Glow (which gameplay wise is fairly similar to FE) but in those games the characters are what they are, and the stats on level-up are set in stone. Once you’ve done ONE run and know what works, Complacent Gaming kicks in and you repeat the exact same steps in future runs. In FE even if you use the same characters in the same classes, their performance WILL vary based on how blessed or cursed the RNG has been for them.

If Maddening IS as difficult and particular as I’m assuming, and basically every unit’s viability is determined from the moment you get them and you HAVE to play a specific way to win... is it really right to judge units based on that specific difficulty? Like, sure, so-and-so SUCKS on Maddening, but so does EVERYONE except this specific handful of units and if you use anyone else you’re just hurting yourself.

I feel like we should be judging characters based off a difficulty where everyone is at least VIABLE from the beginning, but judging how likely they are to REMAIN that way based on their growths/classes/personal skills/etc.

To put it another way, what would a tier list of a Maddening run look like? My impression is that it has two, maybe 3 categories of who you can actually use, who gets benched immediately, and MAYBE a middle category of who exists to fill a spot on the team and take a few hits/deal a smidge of damage for just a little while until someone better comes along to replace them. Meanwhile on Normal and Hard you can have a full spectrum of who on average is statistically the best through the worst, with everything in between. And considering several “unusable” units on Maddening are at least GOOD or even better on a normal or hard run, can you really call them bad? At the very least CLARIFY you mean they’re bad on Maddening specifically instead of in general.

[tpwrtrmnky]

hindsight

[ID: A two-panel comic with crudely drawn stick figures.

Panel 1: The lime green person is talking to the leaf green person and the moss green person.

Lime: "I... have a confession to make."

Leaf: "Go ahead."

Lime: "I want to rewatch the Wizard Child movies."

Leaf: "Didn't the wizard author get incredibly chromophobic?"

Lime: "Yeah I just... It's nostalgia you know? They meant a lot to me when I was a kid."

Panel 2: The three are on the couch.

Lime: "All right, let's go."

Leaf: "It's so weird how the wizard author just turned chromophobic though. Like I remember this series being pretty good for its time. It'll be weird seeing their work contrasting with their views now."

Moss: "I'm just glad we got the movies for free through normal and legal means. Heh."

End ID.]

[ID 2: Scenes from three Wizard Child movies.

Wizard Child and the Simplistic Morality: A slightly round child with a propeller hat is talking to a child with no hat.

Round child: "I am so fucking fat and greedy I am textually shown to be fat because I am greedy and also evil."

Hatless child: "You are to infer my moral purity from juxtaposition with this fat child. Woe is me for our shared parent has deprived me of a propeller hat."

Wizard Child and the Goodness of Wealth: An adult wizard is talking to the child, who now has a wizard hat.

Wizard Adult: "Wizard child you are secretly extremely rich."

Wizard Child: "I will form biases regarding the bankers all being triangular for some reason!"

Wizard Adult: "Your wealth is deserved because your true parent was Good and therefore you are also Good."

Wizard Child: "Now we should acquire consumer goods. Buy consumer goods!"

Wizard Child and the Dark Family History: A blue-grey horse person is talking to the wizard child.

Blue-grey: "No, wizard child. You don't understand. I am one of the good ones, because unlike the bad ones I don't try to spread my curse that makes you a blue-grey horselike creature to others!"

Wizard child: "Wow uncle blue-grey you are one of the good ones! I forgive you for being a horse because I am so good I would even forgive horses. I sure hope you don't conspicuously get killed off later in this movie!"

End ID 2.]

[ID 3: Oh hell no there are even more of these.

Wizard Youth and the Tokenistic Relationship Dynamics: A square headed wizard youth is talking to the former wizard child, now a wizard youth.

Square Wizard Youth: "Wizard child, as the only person with a square head in this entire series it is my duty to inform you that you are the savior of all people with square heads, too. Let us build a one-sided relationship that only furthers your character development, after which I will immediately lose all plot relevance."

Wizard Youth: "I will do this because I am a maturing wizard youth and need disposable relationships that don't threaten the endgame!"

Wizard Youth and the Escalation of Stakes: The Dark Wizard, a sort of grey-green person with a cloak, is pointing at Wizard Youth.

Dark Wizard: "Wizard Youth, I have returned!"

Wizard Youth: "Dark Wizard! Why are you green now?"

Dark Wizard: "Evil magic made me green! I am green with envy towards all who are good!"

Wizard Youth: "I will not engage with how you are clearly based on fascist ideologies and yet this narrative plays into fascist aesthetic sensibilities!"

Wizard Youth and the Post-Hoc Revelations: The Wizard Youth is leaning over their Wizard Mentor, who is laying in a pool of blood.

Wizard Youth: "Wizard Mentor no! You can't die!"

Wizard Mentor: "It is fine, wizard youth. My death will further your character development into a wizard adult. Also, I was secretly a very very dark purple this entire time. I never brought it up so I could retain narrative approval.

End ID 3.]

[ID 4: Wizard Adult and the Overdue Conclusion. Three panels. I am sorry.

Panel 1: The dark wizard is dueling the Wizard Adult with magic beams.

Dark Wizard: "Evil green beam!"

Wizard Adult: "Good red beam! Despite the enormous variety of magic in this series this is what our final battle looks like!"

Panel 2: Wizard Adult stands victorious over the dark wizard, who is dying on the ground.

Wizard Adult: "In the end, dark wizard, you were defeated because I am morally superior to you."

Dark Wizard: "I was a product of systemic failures. There will be someone like me again someday!"

Panel 3: Zoom in on wizard adult, who says:

"Not if I can help it. Because I am going to be a wizard cop now. The moral of this story is that all systemic issues can be solved by finding a bad guy to beat."

End ID 4.]

[ID 5: Four panels.

Panel 1: Return to the green trio on their couch, watching the TV say "The End." All are are silent.

Panel 2: They are sitting on the couch. Moss is looking at their phone.

Lime: "Yeah so there were maybe a few signs we missed because we were children."

Leaf: "Yeah. A few. Some."

Panel 3: Continue conversation.

Lime: "So what did you think, Moss?"

Panel 4: Zoom in on Moss, who says: "I've been zoned out on my phone since the second movie. They lost me at the magic stuff. Wizards aren't real."

End ID 5.]

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[dylawas-reblogs]

Genuine question @ me: why can't you get it together (rant in tags)

[gallusrostromegalus]

The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season

---

I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.

...I might need to back up a bit.

My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.

They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.

Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.

My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.

Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.

It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.

It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.

---

If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.

It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.

My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.

On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.

Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.

---

As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.

The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.

Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.

I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.

You all know this song already.

...but in case you've forgotten the tune:

Yeah.

The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.

It does not play this song at a normal volume.

Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.

Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.

...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.

---

So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.

It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.

There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.

Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.

Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.

I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.

The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.

It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.

I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.

While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.

Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.

I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.

I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.

It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.

I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.

The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.

We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.

I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.

The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.

I look down at myself.

In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:

Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.

Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.

The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.

A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.

The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.

The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.

My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.

A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.

The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.

I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:

The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.

This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.

The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.

I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.

"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"

The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.

$6.66

"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.

I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.

It also turns on the music player.

I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.

Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.

---

If you enjoyed this story, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Funny Stories book on Patreon

[spacerockfloater]

The way people switched on Tamlin the moment Rhys was introduced is diabolical.

“Tamlin never really loved Feyre, it was all a trick from the start”: It is stated that Tamlin was disgusted by the idea of forcing someone to fall in love with him and considered it slavery, but ended up being so in love with her that he ultimately lets her go and choses her freedom and safety over that of his own people. Rhys confirms that Tamlin loved Feyre too much. And he loved her truly. Not because he had to. Tamlin treated Feyre with dignity when she was engaged to him. He introduced her as his lady, to be respected and cherished by all. And she really was loved by his people, too. Rhysand uses her as his lap dog to scare Hewn City and parades her as his whore.

“Tamlin never did anything for Feyre, he just used her”: He improved her and her family’s life in every aspect and offered her everything he had.

“Tamlin had sex with someone else in Calanmai”: Out of duty and responsibility because he didn’t want to force Feyre, who still wasn’t sure about her feelings, into it. All of the High Lords perform the Calanmai. Lucien says so. How convenient that this is never brought up with Rhysand. He surely does perform it as well. All the theories in here, “Lucien doesn’t know what he’s talking about/ This is a SC ritual only/ He probably just passes the duty on to someone else” are just a way for people to villainise Tam and glorify Rhys again. All of them inaccurate. The Calanmai is canonically performed by every High Lord. There’s no evidence that proves otherwise. As the son of one High Lord and the ambassador of another, Lucien would know. He is 500 years old. It’s just more convenient for SJM to never bring this up again because it raises the question of “Who was Rhysand fucking all these years?” and it makes her favourite character look bad. And once he is engaged to her, Tamlin flat out refuses to do it. Let’s be real for a second.

“Tamlin didn’t help Feyre under the mountain”: He literally could not. He was bound by a curse. He was forced to be Amarantha’s consort and a consort cannot oppose you. His powers were bound. Alis warns Feyre that Tamlin will not be able to help her. Stop acting as if he didn’t want to help her. He decapitated Amarantha the moment he got his autonomy back. Claiming that there’s no proof that Tamlin was under the influence of a spell when he literally didn’t break the curse and Amarantha’s magic didn’t allow him to use his powers is crazy. And even if he tried, he could never provide actual help. We see this when he begs Amarantha for Feyre’s life. Him showing he cares about her would only make Amarantha more jealous and vicious towards Feyre.

“Tamlin made out with Feyre instead of helping her”: He couldn’t help her run away. No one could do that. She would never make it, Amarantha would find her. In fact, Tamlin specifically could not help her in any way. He could only assure her he still wants and loves her. And she wanted that just as much. Rhys abused her physically, mentally, verbally, drugged her and much worse. And he enjoyed all of it. If he didn’t want to raise suspicions, he wouldn’t have placed a bet in her favour. Rhys is a sadist, SJM just decided to mellow him down in the next book so that we’d all like him over Tamlin.

“Tamlin ignored Feyre’s wishes and only wanted her to be his bride, he didn’t let her be High Lady”: Both Tamlin and Feyre were bad communicators going though trauma and Tam had a whole court to care for. Tamlin was unaware of how Feyre felt because she barely spoke up once. Rhys knew because he literally lived inside her head and had all the time in the world to focus his attention on her since his court suffered zero consequences during Amarantha’s reign. And Tamlin simply told her the truth: there’s no such thing as High Lady. Even her current title is given to her by Rhys, the magic of Prythian has not actually chosen her to be High Lady. The title and its power are decorative. And she said she didn’t want that anyway.

“Tamlin locks Feyre up and uses his magic to harm her”: He locks her in his humongous palace to keep her safe, after she just came back from the dead and his worst enemy is kidnapping her every month, while he runs off to protect his borders. Rhysand locks Feyre in a fucking bubble. Tamlin loses control of his magic. He doesn’t want to harm her. That’s not abuse. Abuse is intentional. Feyre and Rhysand lock Lucien and Nesta up. They lock the people of the Hewn City up in a cave. Feyre loses control of her magic and harms Lucien’s mother. Double standards I guess.

“Tamlin is a bad and conservative ruler”: Tamlin is such a beloved ruler that his sentries literally begged to die for him. Feyre had to fuck with their minds to finally turn them against him. They were his friends. He was so progressive that the lords fled his court once he became their ruler because he wouldn’t put up with their bullshit like his father did. He loved all of his people. He is against slavery. The Tithe was just tax collection. Rhysand practically rules over just one city, while ignoring Hewn City and Illyria. He treats 2/3 of his realm like shit and everyone except the residents of Velaris hates him. He collects tax, too, but we conveniently never see this. He ranks the members of his inner circle (my 1st, my 2nd etc.) and reminds them every moment that they are his slaves first and anything else second, while Tamlin treats them equally and even gives Lucien an official title by naming him Ambassador.

“Tamlin conspired with Hybern”: He was a double agent and his short lived alliance, two weeks all in all, not only didn’t harm a single soul, but ultimately saved all of Prythian as he was the only one who brought valuable information to that meeting. He dragged Beron to battle. Rhysand’s alliance with Amarantha harmed thousands and only helped save one city, Velaris.

“Tamlin is responsible for turning Nesta and Elain into Fae”: No, that was Ianthe, who got the info from Feyre. Tamlin was fooled by her, just as Feyre obviously was, or she wouldn’t have trusted her. Tamlin was disgusted by that act.

“Tamlin is less powerful than Rhysand”: Rhysand himself says that a battle between them would turn mountains to dust. Tamlin killed Rhysand’s dad, the previous High Lord of the Night Court, in one blow. He is just as powerful as Rhysand. SJM again just wants us to believe otherwise. And he is smarter, too. He was the only one not to trust Amarantha. And he was a good spy for Prythian against Hybern.

All of these takes are cold as fuck. SJM was testing the waters with ACOTAR and she made sure the main love interest, Tamlin, was insanely likeable, so that the book could be a satisfactory standalone story in case she couldn’t land a trilogy deal. She didn’t know it would be such a big hit. But once she realised she could turn this into a franchise, she had to figure out a new story to tell. She may claim otherwise, but there’s just too many plothotes to convince me. And in order to make her new main love interest seem like the best choice, she had to character assassinate the old one. There was no other way. ACOTAR Rhys was too much of an evil monster to be loved by the majority of the audience. But Tamlin was introduced to us as such a heroic and passionate man that is literally impossible to turn him into someone despised by all. Feyre’s relationship with Rhysand reads too much like cheating on Tamlin. That’s why anyone with basic analytical skills is able to realise the flaws of the narration.

[rawliverandgoronspice]

While I completely agree with everything Bloo said, I am... I also feel like there is a competing possibility for the placement of Ganondorf's glyph, and while it absolutely does not erase the implications or the fact that it does punch down this story of repetence and villification and "dark origin story", as the devteam would consider it (I think it might have been part of the argument within the team), I also think there's a more... down-to-earth, designer-brain case at play here. I might be totally offbase, but for having interacted with a LOT of designers who think practically about things and are both uninterested and very perplexed by the necessity of storytelling and its priorities, I think the placement choice may have gone something like this:

"Hey, wouldn't it be normal to put a Ganondorf memory near Gerudo Town, since he's gerudo? It would just make sense that players would go look for memories related to Ganondorf near Gerudo Town, right? And then it's important to have the glyph be visible from all nearby landmarks to encourage the player to go from interest point to interest point."

I think it was literally all the designers considered in their choice of placement honesty. Why wouldn't they. They apparently didn't hire narrative designers/game writers/quest designers/anyone with narrative sensitivity to keep the design team from going with their first obvious game designer instinct over and over and over, never once stopping to think about the ingame or "watsonian" implications of any of it --instead their choices are almost systematically guided by progression, affordance, impact, and "wouldn't it be cool if". I think this particular instance is a great example of that "designer brain" tendency --but the whole game is like that, which is why I'm so grumpy that they thought narrative skill was but an optional flavoring they could skip with no consequences. I don't think anyone in this team considered the way the glyphs would or even *could* impact the NPCs in the world beyond vaguely Impa and the NPCs that serve as pointers going "activity over there!!" as their core function.

It's exactly as Bloo said: these barely qualify as Zelda's memories. The entire framing is poorly thought out, and I think game mechanics is truly the only thing driving most of the decisions taken in this game.

do you ever warp into Gerudo Town, look straight ahead, and draw some unpleasant conclusions about the connection between that geoglyph and the Gerudo tendency to bear guilt for Ganondorf’s actions even thousands of years into the future? Like, assuming that for some time the geoglyphs were visible before disappearing until the Upheaval, that sure is a “look at this guy you made who sucked so bad and will one day be a threat once more” reminder staring the Gerudo dead in the face. and that seems a bit much

[filurig]

a new little spingle... info about him under the cut

a disciple of glaris in sartrill's priesthood, despite his holy position - isn't too enthusiastic about it. truthfully, he was forced into his current study by his parents as he was born as a "curlwing". "curlwings" in sartrillan culture are considered the closest to "true" children of glaris, having been born with her "blessing" of flightlessness and therefore are believed to be more strongly attuned to her, so the natural course for any young curlwing is to enter priesthood training at an early age. despite that, however, karu never excelled in his priestly studies - not that he was necessarily bad or couldn't carry out the duties he were assigned, but his superiors keep worrying that he doesn't put enough heart in it, so he has never really risen considerably in the ranks of the priesthood.

somewhat lethargic, karu accepted his "fate" - while he has faith, he also longs for being able to have his own life as life in the priesthood is relatively restricted to the holy grounds and the districts in sartill closest to it. there is a small, adventurous spirit inside of him that wishes to see more of the world, having never left sartrill in his entire life, but at this point he's sort of given up on it. he is somewhat ruled over by his fear of sticking out and not conforming and betraying the expectations of the priesthood, his family and Glaris herself.

karu can come off as quite cold and tired as he feels sort of detached from the people and circumstances around him. when brought out of his shell, however, he brightens up considerably - but can be a bit cynical still. he isn't actually as serious as he comes across as, and actually enjoys being around people who don't take things too seriously either. he tries to self-correct though and therefore that part of him is rarely seen by anyone. because of his alienation from other harpies, partly due to his upbringing and role, he's a bit socially inept, but has learned to deal with that by hiding behind his stoic and unconcerned facade. a bit of a double edged sword because it only reinforces the idea people have of him around him as this "serious, no-fun wholly dedicated priest disciple who doesn't want to mingle with the commoners"

while he wishes he had more freedom to do stuff, karu does enjoy some parts of his priestly duties - most especially the craftsmanship he gets to engage in. sartrillan priests will actually be responsible for most of the settlement's craftsmanship especially ones concerning fabric and clothing, but also other crafts (former are just the biggest categories)

flightlessness is relevant in some satrtillan mythology and in the biggest story (the one involving glaris) is a noteworthy sacrifice some crakam made to grant them the ability to hide from humans using illusory magic. that ofc creates a sort of weird relationship with crakam society and crakam born with flightless conditions. in sartrill its especially pronounced as glaris is the settlement's "patron deity" and while care is taken to accomodate to the flightless, there is also a social schism between them and other crakam bcs of their connotations and also the fact that most flightless crakam are "strongly encouraged" and often forced to live in the priesthood.

craftsmanship is strongly associated with holiness/the priesthood in sartrill because the body alterations flighted harpies undergo to render themselves flightless permanently actually increases arm flexibility a little, and historically being unable to fly it was a natural direction for many priests to head in to contribute to the community which might be why it became such a strong practice

there are several different conditions that can make a harpy not be flighted - curlfeather is one of them. any condition which does such is treated similarly - it doesn't really matter which, but curlfeather is probably the most common/well known one.

[please1mistress]

WARNING Flashing IMAGE and HYPNOTIC COVERT language

Inductions

Hypnosis, a fascinating and complex phenomenon, has captivated human interest for centuries. It's a state of focused attention, heightened suggestibility, and vivid fantasies. People often think of hypnosis as a deep sleep or unconsciousness, but in reality, it's more about a trance-like state where the individual is actually in heightened awareness of suggestion. Often used for therapeutic purposes, hypnosis can aid in various issues such as stress, anxiety, pain management, and certain habits like smoking. However, it's not a magical cure-all; its effectiveness varies from person to person.

Hypnosis can also be a form of entertainment, where stage hypnotists perform shows that demonstrate the power of suggestion. Despite its many applications, hypnosis remains a subject of debate among scientists and psychologists. Some view it as a powerful tool for mental health, while others caution against its potential to create false memories or its use in recovering memories, which is a controversial area within the field. It's important to approach hypnosis with a critical mind and understand that it's a complex interplay of psychological and physiological factors. If you're considering hypnotherapy, it's crucial to seek out a qualified and certified professional to ensure a safe and beneficial experience, someone like me.

You find yourself reading these words and as you read they seem to take on a life of their own, almost like magic. Your mind slows as you red larger more complex words and you may feel a soft tingle of arousal as you FOCUS on my words and feel dreamy. It's quite fascinating how the complexity of words can influence our cognitive processes. When we encounter larger, more intricate words, our brains need to work harder to decode the meaning, which can sometimes slow down your reading speed. This isn't necessarily a bad thing; it allows for deeper processing and understanding of the messages I am pushing softly into your mind. It's easy to relax and follow the words you read. It's easy to feel dreamy as your mind accepts that it wants to drop deeper.

Dropping deeper feels good, as you touch yourself and keep reading you can let go of any inhibitions or control. it's so easy to sink into a light trance, after all entering a light trance can be a simple, yet profound experience. It's a state where the conscious mind takes a step back, allowing the subconscious to surface and express itself more freely. This can happen during various activities that engage the mind in a repetitive, rhythmic manner, such as listening to music, meditating, or even during a long drive. In this state, people often find their thoughts flowing more smoothly, their creativity heightened, and their stress levels reduced. It's a moment of introspection and connection with the inner self that can provide clarity and insight. While in a light trance, the mind filters information differently, prioritizing internal dialogue and sensation, which can lead to a deeper understanding of one's thoughts and feelings. It's a natural and accessible state that can offer a respite from the hustle and bustle of daily life, and a gateway to greater self-awareness.

You are not even aware of how deeply into the trance you are, your fingers stroking your arousal for me as you read and feel a dreamy warmth spreading from your fingers into your whole body. Aware but unaware that you could stop at anytime, but you don't want that, you want to keep reading and sinking deeper and deeper as you feel arousal growing more for me. It just feels so good to give in, the very act of giving, whether it's time, resources, or kindness, has a profound impact on your well-being. It transcends the material value of what is given and touches the very essence of human connection. When you give, you're not just passing on a physical item or a piece of advice; you're sharing a part of yourselves, creating a bond that reflects your shared humanity. This act of generosity can be deeply satisfying, as it often brings joy and relief to others, which in turn enriches your own life. It's a beautiful cycle of positivity that reinforces the best parts of being a good submissive.

Giving has been shown to activate regions in our brain associated with pleasure, social connection, and trust, creating a warm glow effect. It's no wonder that the phrase "it's better to give than to receive" has resonated through the ages. This isn't just a moral suggestion; it's backed by science. Studies have found that giving to others can increase our happiness more than spending money on ourselves. This might be because when we give, we feel a sense of purpose and meaning, knowing that we've made a positive impact on someone else's life.

Moreover, the act of giving doesn't have to be grandiose to be effective. Small acts of kindness can ripple outwards and have unforeseen positive consequences. Just as a pebble creates waves when thrown into a pond, a simple gesture of generosity can spread far and wide. It's the intention behind the act that matters most, the recognition that even the smallest offering can make a significant difference.

In a world that often emphasizes individual achievement and accumulation of wealth, it's important to remember the value of generosity. It's a reminder that our interconnectedness is a source of strength, not weakness. By giving, we acknowledge that we are part of a larger community, one that thrives when its members support each other. It's a powerful acknowledgment that we are not alone in our journey through life, and that by helping others, we are also helping ourselves.

So, when we say it feels good to give in, it's not just about the act of giving up or surrendering; it's about embracing the joy of generosity. It's a celebration of the human spirit and its capacity for compassion and empathy. Giving is an affirmation that, despite the challenges we face, there is goodness in the world, and we have the power to contribute to it, one act of kindness at a time. It's a simple truth that enriches our lives and the lives of those around us, creating a legacy of goodwill that can endure beyond our own existence. Indeed, to give is to receive a gift of immeasurable value—the happiness and satisfaction that come from knowing we've played a part in making the world a little brighter.

You want to give in more deeply, message me and tell me how much you need deeper brainwashing NOW!

[internalloops]

DA:TV rant … if you are of the mind that BioWare can do no wrong /its games can be criticize or if you truly enjoying the game and are loving everything that you’ve seen so far this post is not for you. Please move along and if you don’t want me showing up on your feed please block me.  I will not be engaging with any fan that will not allow me to take up space and vent my feelings on the disaster that is this fucking game.

*Also a lot of spoilers!!

.. it’s horrible, like I knew I was going to be disappointed but holy fucking shit …

I’m about to finish act one and .. they destroyed their entire lore … BioWare destroyed their ENTIRE lore /world build of Dragon Age

Minrathous has NO SLAVES !!! They are briefly talked about via shadow dragons but they’re are none visible at all in the city ( but they have the animation to give a poor person “fake money” )

The qunari who literally fought and tried to kill solas in trespasser have been turned into mindless brutes who willingly joined the evil gods … because they command dragons ?

The blight except for one mission is harmless. They purposely turned it into a bio weapon and then (besides the dark spawn spawning from it like something out of an MMO) due to *plot armor, no one actually contracts the blight ???

The black chantry minus one building that you go through in a side quest doesn’t exist? No chantry members , no talk of the black divine ..

Dalish are all engineers now and part of the veil jumpers ( which should not exist lore wise) and all elven magic has been converted into cyberpunk technology and artifacts. Very little talk about their oppression and they are all very willing to drop all their history , even their distrust of solas , to flight the old gods .

Varric Has been demoted to inspirational speaker and narrator he has no other role and the entire team acts like he died , even when he’s in the room with him ( I think BioWare actually planned to kill him but then chickened out ) and is a husk of his former self

Same with Morgan , you can’t interact with her at all and she’s given the same mysterious background as flemeth ( the theory that she carries mythal spirit is very strong right now )

Lyrim potions don’t exist, in fact lyrim doesn’t exist at all besides the dagger. All magic has turned into technology, and if you play as a mage mana just has an automatic replenish rate /cool down effect that you can level up.

Evil gods go back and forth between an actual intense adversary and threat to the world, and a typical Disney villain.

These are just the few I can think of off the top of my head, there is so much more than this …

The game can literally be summed up as Mass effect andromeda x2 with God of war animations and marvel style writing ( not the avengers I’m talking about the recent shit)

Also for the people who want to kill solas or simply dislike him, the game pushes a sympathetic view of him on you ,even your companions who outrightly want to kill him will feel sorry for him. And I’m saying this as a solavellan fan. Yes they’re options to be mean to him and antagonize him, but you won’t get anyone agreeing with your actions ,at best they’ll be neutral about it. Now this might play out differently for those who picked the “chooses to stop him “ option , but for those who’s inquisitions wanted to save him but they wanted their rooks to hate him … you’re not gonna be happy about what you get ..

The only thing that keeping me playing is the reveal of history of ancient elves and Titans and solas’s story. And Assan!! Assan can do no wrong !! Everything else is a slog to get through.

[brandileigh2003]

Raising Harry and/or teddy recs. I know I'm missing some so send me your faves or self rec ❤️❤️

~~~please give these authors love, fandom engagement with writers is down and it means more than you know. ~~~

-orange juice (i've been ready for you to come home for so long) by raggedypond get back together ft Chronic Illness

-my love, take care of yourself by @littleoldrachel ft mental health and chronic

-Anything that msalexwp writes that includes the trope is fantastic

Let's Play Pretend muggle fake dating real feelings

Second Generation get back together

-the sea is a good place to think of the future by peachyybabe get back together ft Chronic Illness @lavenderhaze

-Like Real People Do by thirdcrow: coffee shop, great disability rep

-An Infinte Ocean by orphan_account muggle get together

-Babysitting For Dummies by Middleofamoment (37k) au raising teddy get together (theres a sequel and 3rd to come)

-We’ll Make It Out Alive by wolfstar_addict417: muggle texting kidfic

-Blue Moon Café by @lazuli-moon raising teddy coffee shop

-Forever Is a State of Mind -orphaned account ft deaf remus

-Of Bookshelves and Baby Carriers by @poppunkpadfoot

-the mayors of simpleton by @fruityindividual older wolfstar get back together ft blind remus

-Till We Have Arrived Home Again by prouvairing divergent

-Of Quiet Hearts And Thundering Dreams by @tracingpatternswrites

-Spare! by B1ackCatChatsBack muggle get together

-I didn’t sign up for this by Moonystoastandmarsbars get back together

-Of Protein Powders and PTAs by @squintclover and TracingPatterns magical divergent

-A Wolf, A Bear, A Dungeon Master, and Boy Wonder by @ratmom819 ft chronic illness

-Puppy Magic by @demonbanisher thefifthmarauder17 magical divergent

-what a wonder (what a waste) by peachyybabe mcd magical divergent ft trans remus, mental illness and

-Aging Gracelessly by orphan_account older wolfstar texting

-So I'll Take My) Good Fortune by orphan_account muggle uni

-The Molinete & the Media Luna by punkwolfstar ft disability

-beautiful boy (darling boy) by @impishtubist and roaming_the_greenwood1: magical divergent ft trans remus

-Multiplying Parents by @heartofspells harry wants to find Sirius a bf

-ten reasons (to go to michigan) by @greyeyedmonster-18 muggle au get together

-The Things I Did by Lolo_row divergent

-Of Memories and Milk Thievery by moonymoment older wolfstar get back together @mayescapade

-Basilisks, Boggarts and Boyfriends (oh my) by OptimisticDinosaur

-Of Caffeine Addictions and Nail Polish by BlueAzalea au pining and fluff

Check out my fandom wife lucigoo she has some wonderful ones

Common Woodbrown by @imochan

that’s the art of getting by sarewolf

----Self rec: parks and playdates ft disability plus trans and asexual remus

~~Others' recs ~~

-Wherever I am/ you will always be - BrigidFaye

(anon): Under Foot, Under Moon by sometimeswelose

-An unexpected reunion- r33sesPieces

Rhythm & Blues by lez_writes13

stealing harry by @copperbadge

-Blanket Fort by @samynnad102687 : Regulus, James, and Harry build a blanket fort.

-Trick-or-Treating by Samynnad102687: The Marauders, Regulus, and Lily take Harry Trick-or-Treating.

-Unbound by you by friendlyneighborhoodtrickster, TracingPatterns

-Moonless Nights by @sliebman10 Sirius is trying to rebuild his life after the fateful Halloween of 1981. He's struggling to come to terms with Remus's betrayal and his new role as Harry's guardian.

-Family Vacation by sliebman10: Sirius is skeptical that a family resort is where he wants to spend his first summer vacation with Harry there, but he comes to see its merits when he meets Remus and his family.

-All the soul and body scars by 1point21

-To build a family - secondsister

-Forever live and die - wolfpants

--feel free to check it my main rec list

Also - the wolfstar librarian has awesome collections for raising harry

[winterzsurprise]

Crimson Lovers • KSJ

Pairing: Seokjin x reader

SUMMARY: “I'd spoil you rotten, put you in the nicest, most expensive clothing and I'd still have more to spend on you for an eternity.” Jin whispered into your lips like a promise. If it weren't for your lust addled mind, you'd believe him. “You like wealth, princess? I have plenty. My coven has a dragon, he'd spoil you rotten, he’d stop at nothing to give you everything you'd ever wanted.”

Or alternatively, your friend’s only solution to you being a broke college student with a family to feed is to attend a private feeding party where the most affluent vampires are in attendance to drink fresh blood in exchange for money and get yourself in trouble with the infamous Kim Coven. 

Tags: Vampire! Seokjin, Half-Faerie! Reader, Mythical Creatures AU!, SMUT, Cunnilingus, Magic slick (Seokjin passed out from it lmao), Blood sucking(obvs), not beta read.

Words: 5.1k

I just found this one collecting dust in the vault so I decided to post it here since it'll be a shame if I don't post a 5k words worth work. Its supposed to be the first chapter for a mythical creatures and reincarnation au bts x reader story but I immediately hit a wall.

I'll prolly pick it up in the future idk.

• MASTERLIST •

__________

Never in your life have you ever thought a single sheet of paper could weigh so heavily in the palm of your hands like it holds the heaviness of your future.

Depending on your answer, it does.

The card was a vibrant crimson with a nice golden design of modest swirls as margins for the text that are colored in silver, the material no doubt expensive. It was an invitation to a private feeding after all, how could it look shabby when only a selected few are given the opportunity to attend?

By selecting a few, you meant people from affluent backgrounds and some unfortunate people desperate for money.

It was obvious what category you’d fall into.

If you were to attend the party.

“Stop staring at it like it offended your ancestors, I'm just suggesting it.”

Soomin, your friend since high school, says.

“Where did you even get this? You don't know any vampires, do you?”

She shrugs, leaning back into her armchair. “Got a few favours. You were complaining about needing money and thought I could use some of them.”

Scratching your head, you read the card's contents with careful apprehension.

“Relax, it's not enchanted to track where it goes. It's just a normal card, you know I wouldn't force you into something if safety wasn't guaranteed.”

Before leaving the herd to pursue college far from the safety of family wards, your mother had enchanted your accessories with aura suppressors and glamours to prevent people from knowing your heritage.

You were told of horrors of the inhabitants outside the plane, both mortals and supernaturals turning over every leaf in the forest just for a whiff of a faerie.

Your blood is as precious as its golden colour, said to restore even the weakest mortal on its deathbed to pristine condition with a mere drop and turn a half vampire’s miniscule powers into a bottomless pit of a royal pureblood.

Faeries live in constant danger and you'd be damned if you weren’t taught to overthink everything.

“It’s anonymous, they’ll have you wear a mask, don't overthink it too much. My aunt used to tell me ‘your body is an emergency fund, every part of you is profitable. You just need to know the right place.’ or in my case, a man.”

She says, wiggling her fingers in front of your face where a gigantic pink diamond glimmered under the light above you, an engagement ring from the werewolf she bagged from dancing haphazardly on a stranger one friday night.

It's her pride, being able to capture the attention of one of the country's most attractive bachelors. It gave her a confidence that soared so high in the skies, she had nudged the space terminal. You couldn't even blame her for thinking so, knowing you'd share the same sentiments if it were you.

But still, daring to wander around without the wards your mother has spent years of creating to keep you safe, it makes your stomach churn. 

Placing the card and pushing it as far as you could, you lean back into the chair.

“I don't know… It's really risky.”

“I’m just suggesting here,” she sighs, sliding the paper back in front of you and patting it. “If all goes well, you wouldn't need to work overtime for a year at least.”

“You saying that only makes me overthink it even more.”

She rolls her eyes playfully.

You knew she was right and the prospect of not working for a year is tempting. But a part of you frowned at the thought of risking your safety for a couple of zeroes in your bank account. Pride is such a fickle thing, so easily threatened and dragged through the mud when desperation kicks in.

But what is Pride in the face of your mountainous pending bills?

Not to mention, your mother and little brother's living situation back in the province. Soobin needed new shoes for school, you've seen how well-worn it has been—if well-worn meant clumsily glued back soles onto the upper body for the nth time with shoelaces frizzled and pulled taut from being twisted into knots and years of washing.

Your barista and supermarket cashier job nor your mother's job as a saleslady in the wet market doesn't reward you enough to save for his shoe while trying to sustain both you and your family, you need more. Taking on another 9-5 job is far from the solution.

Grabbing the paper with a newfound heaviness in your body, you sighed. The address encrusted in silver stood out in the seas of crimson reds, rooting your eyes onto the text.

“You asked for my help and I offer this–this somewhat long term solution.”

“But what if someone tries to track my blood back to me?”

Your mother and brother are counting on you, her salary from selling in the market aren't enough for the both of them. If you were to disappear they would sink further than you all already are, Soobin would stop attending school in favour of working. The guilt from seeing your mother bend over her back to be able to put food on the table would kill him.

It's a burdening feeling you wouldn't wish upon him. He should only know to have fun, make friends, and experience life in high school like a normal teen would.

You can't afford to put yourself in danger.

“I’ll put my name on the list instead. I promise you that you'll be safe, you just need to find someone to feed on you and then you can go, easy money!” 

Seeing the hesitance in your eyes, she continued.

“Sometimes you just need to live a little. There's rewards in risking, you know?”

But then again, nor can you afford new shoes for Soobin with your minimum wage jobs.

With a defeated sigh, you looked up to meet your friend's eyes. 

“How should I dress?”

________

He should've known better than attending parties the prehistoric council members had invited him into, you'd think centuries of politics would render him immune to these tricky situations yet here he is, standing awkwardly in the middle of the meeting room while holding said invitation and a cocktail. The old geezer was already gone by the time he realised his mistake. 

The envelope was a deep hue of red, a foretelling sign of what the party might be about.

It wasn't a shock when he saw the neatly imprinted silver text on the thick crimson paper telling him of a private feeding gathering for both the fortunate and the unfortunate on Saturday.

While being a vampire himself, he never had to feed on strangers when he had his coven to fill him up for the next month or so. His age has allowed him longer intervals between feeding and at this point, he has grown nonchalant with that aspect of his life. 

Obviously, he should've ripped it to shreds and incinerated the damn thing.

But a voice whispered at the back of his, urging him to join the small gathering. A nagging feeling tugging at him and telling him he'd miss something important if he were to dismiss the invitation. Yet when asked why he went, he said it's to oversee the event undercover.

He could still feel the burning curious gaze of his brothers on his skin.

Which brings him to his current predicament, fighting off the urge to yawn from the absolute boredom caused by newbloods breaking their backs to impress potential business partners and blood donors.

He silently thanked whoever thought it was a good idea to have guests wear masks. There would've been heaps upon heaps of scandals if he were to be spotted in a feeding party, not to mention, the newbloods trying to peacock their way to being sponsored by the Kim Coven and from the rising irritation burning his back, he might shave off a huge number off the vampire population.

He couldn't remember the times he had done his route around the hall, trying to avoid people vying for a morsel of attention and trying his best to not stay still in one place for people to recognize him but he did know that if he were to go around once more, he's leaving once and for all.

Downing his last martini, he stood up. 

Only for a dizzying scent to knock him back into his seat. It grabbed onto his throat with a tight grip, stuffing his head and demanding his attention. It smelled like the sweetest of sin, honeyed and dripping thick on his tongue. 

A faerie’s blood, although from a half, is still as tantalising as a pure blooded one.

He hears the murmurs, could feel multiple spawns’ auras spilling out of their body, their greed relentless and non-discriminating as it lashed out over each other, fighting to be noticed by the woman in the black bodycon dress. Why are they looking at her? How dare they lay their eyes on what's mine—

He immediately shook the thought away, making a note to review it later.

You strode into the middle of the ballroom with a sway to your hips, lips painted in the hue of blood stretching into a coy smile as vampires of all ages take a step towards your direction. The dress didn't leave much to the imagination with its thin fabric clinging onto your form tightly. From the spaghetti straps hanging flimsily on your shoulders to the low dip of its collar between the mounds of your chest and the high slits on one side to reveal the plumpness of your thighs, you were mouth watering in every way possible.

With pouty lips tinted in crimson red and hair loosely curled on the side of your face. You were a sight to behold.

Seeing you stride in with all that skin displayed for everyone to see, a ravenous monster at the back of his mind resurfaces. Greed and possessiveness of the others seeped into his skin, awakening something he had long buried.

A potential mate, his mind had whispered 

Fuck, you're driving him insane.

Seokjin didn't notice his feet moving, following the alluring scent beckoning him close as if hypnotised but he did see the flirtatious narrowing of your eyes as he approached. If his power is spilling over the floor and deterring everyone from daring to get in between you both, he ignored it. 

In fact, he revelled in their soured faces and shivering bodies.

He wasn't one for claiming territories nor was he the type to flaunt his power but for tonight, he'll make an exception.

No one is to dare interrupt him.

“What's a pretty faerie like you doing outside of their realm?”

He tried so hard not to stare at the delectable view of the mounds of your breast or the unblemished skin of your neck and chest but it's difficult with the view granted by his height. Your heartbeat pulsed nervously despite the flirtatious mask you so perfectly strut with. 

He could practically taste your scent being this close and his throat dries up.

Fuck, you're gonna make him religious.

“The same as the other women in pretty dresses in this room, darling. Money.”

“Aren't you scared people might hurt you?” It was a genuine question, if he wasn't here to step over the pining prospects, he didn't want to imagine how they would've killed each other for a glance.

You would've been ravaged, you were bold for strutting into a room full of ravenous vampires. It was impressive as much as it made his blood curl. He pushed the thought away, he wouldn't want to scare you off by decorating the hall in gore.

Seokjin could feel your fear, could hear it from the racing beats of your heart under flesh and bones. You were nervous, no doubt ready to bolt the moment you were approached by the predators surrounding you in all directions yet you faced him head on with a false confidence he started to think is real.

If fear were to ever linger in the corner of your eyes, he had a feeling it wouldn't end well for every supernatural in this room. 

No one should ever dare scare you.

“I'm desperate. So, if you aren't trying to take me for the night, I have other guys pining for me so excuse—”

“I didn't say I didn't want you, sweetheart. I'm just trying to get to know you better.”

You stopped, looking up at him through your lashes as you stepped closer.

Lithe fingers boldly reached onto his tie pressed neatly behind his blazer—nails painted in a sinful red hue, he notes— tugging and twirling it between fingers as you stepped closer and closer, further drowning him in your delectable fragrance. Your nervous heart beats echoed in his ears and it sounded like the piper's capturing tune, your scent surrounds him like a haze of amortentia, demanding his attention on your eyes, your lips, your skin and to the dip in your waist. All Seokjin could think about was you.

Your soft flesh flashing up at him, teasing him and urging him to have a taste, to feel the rush of your blood coating his tongue and down his throat, to run his hands over your skin and have his marks littering its unblemished surface.

Suddenly his clothes felt suffocating in the heat of his desire.

Was he seriously this floored for someone whose face he hasn't seen?

“All you need to know is that I need a name to moan, handsome.”

He could feel the thread of his patience running thin, lust leaking in and clouding his judgement. He smirked. “Name’s Jin. What should I call you then, sweet thing?”

Your arms reached around his neck, body pressing flush into his chest as you looked up at him through lidded eyes. The size difference not going unnoticed, if anything, it made him want to drive a stake through his heart.

“Cherry.”

He doesn't know who started it first, nor does he remember how you both ended up in a private room after the feeding contract was signed, doors locked behind you both as he pressed you onto its wooden material, the masks long forgotten on the floor. Seokjin felt your lust in how your scent sweetened further like heaven's nectar, grabbing onto his throat and drowning him.

It almost felt sacrilegious that he gets to know you so intimately like this. Almost unfair how your desires grappled with his patience like a cat with a ball of yarn, temptation lighting his skin alight.

Pulling away, his lips immediately zeroed in on your neck. His fangs ached to be buried onto your precious skin but he knows better than to harvest his rewards early. He sucked bruises and marked your throat yet the greediness in his chest didn't relent, if anything, it rampaged further at the sight of you littered with his marks.

They looked so pretty on you.

“You're driving me insane.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Taking your lips once again with his, you engaged in a wild dance of teeth dragging over his lips and tongue clashing with yours before picking you up and taking you both to the bed at the far corner of the room.

The straps of your dress falling from your shoulders shouldn't have the effect it does to him yet here he is, throat tight and mouth watering as he hovers over your pliant body, full chest spilling on the sides of your body, raising with your laboured breath with cheeks flushed with desire. His hands pushed the offending fabric of your dress to bunch over your inner thighs, eyes greedily drinking in every inch of skin being revealed to him before noticing how the thick flesh managed to look so small under his palms.

His mouth dries.

He can't wait to see how Namjoon feels about the size difference between you. The man would lose every morsel of control.

“Stop staring!”

“Why should I? You look so pretty like this.”

There's something so sinfully divine in how the fabric only seems to cover the necessary parts of your body, trying its best—and failing—to hide you from his gaze, the devil about to corrupt your purity with a bite.

You whined, hand reaching for him as you flush darker at his comment.

You'd turn Yoongi into a devout worshipper who'd dedicate a thousand songs because of this sight alone.

He ran his hands across your thighs, thumb inching closer to your heat under the fabric and every time it neared your breath hitches. Your heartbeat thuds a little faster, a new melody he's grown to love. 

Yoongi would've somehow composed a song with it.

“If you stare any longer, I'm going to start charging you.”

He didn't mean to laugh as hard as he did at that.

“Not much of a threat for me, sweetheart. I'm fucking rich.”

Your scent flares as you let out a soft moan and he captures your lips once more before pulling away with a smirk. 

“I'd spoil you rotten, put you in the nicest, most expensive clothing and I'd still have more to spend on you for an eternity.” 

You whined and it sounded like the sweetest melody he'd hear once he enters whatever heaven there is for the supernatural. 

Seokjin didn't have a kink for spending money on someone nor did he imagine he'd have one, but as he drawled on, he couldn't help but imagine you in the most lavish fabric to pose for him and his coven members, to see your form covered in the softest of silk and the rarest of gems only their money could purchase, his throat tightened.

Taehyung’s designed clothes would fit you perfectly.

“You like wealth, princess? I have plenty. My coven has a dragon, he'd spoil you rotten, he’d stop at nothing to give you everything you'd ever wanted.”

You didn't react to his revelation and he takes it as a win, a silent acceptance of his coven.

“Please just touch me.”

“Where do you want me, princess?”

You take his hand, lithe and small against him, and bring it close to where you wanted him most between legs, nudging his fingers between folds and shocks shoots through his body. He groans, the lacy fabric already drenched with your arousal, doused with your addicting scent.

“I want your fingers inside me, Jinnie. Please?”

If you asked him for the universe with that voice, he would learn how to shrink it and hand it over to you the next day tied with a bowstring.

Are you aware of the power you hold over him?

Instead of moving, he let you move his wrist, watched you with rapt attention as his fingers dipped down your folds, hovering on your clenching hole before rising to nudge your clit, teasing your already sensitive self and moaning from the slightest of touch. 

If it wasn't for the unfamiliar signature of a faerie in your scent, he would've thought you were a succubus.

“Look at you grinding on my knuckles so prettily, already so needy for me.”

He pressed light figures of eight on your button and drank in the sight of your desperation with rapt attention. Your hips twisted, eager for more. Tugging the fabric aside with the other hand, he toyed with your clit, using different pressures and motions to figure out what brings you the most pleasure before dipping a finger into you.

Your velvety walls fluttered around him, pulsing with need and tightening oh so deliciously on his finger. His cock stirs in his pants as he adds another digit, he can't wait to bury himself into your warmth.

Seeing you thrash around in pleasure as his fingers drove and curled inside you, got his body crawling with the intense feeling of greed. He wanted to see more of you, to have you on the brink of breaking. Suddenly, the dress flimsily covering you grew offensive. He eyed the material restricting his movements before pulling away from your cunt and reaching up to tug your panties off of you, discreetly tossing it into his spatial storage.

The dress is already halfway off your skin, he could easily tear them apart to replace them with a better, more expensive fabric but decided against it.

He sheds the clothing inch by inch, placing soft kisses and gentle nibbles to newly uncovered skin, leaving you breathless beneath him. Your scent flourished with your magic. It was electrifying. Intoxicating how your power seems to react so well with his.

Like you were meant to be.

Sitting back, he admired the divine artwork before him, embedding the sight into the walls of his brain. Your arms moved to cross over your breasts from his gaze making him reach down to entangle your fingers with his and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“Don't hide from me. You look so pretty like this.”

With you finally revealed bare beneath him, he wasted no more time, leaning down to your cunt where your scent was stronger and licked.

Your flavour explodes on his tongue and he groans. Whether it was just your scent he’s tasting or your arousal he could care less, mouth latching onto your folds and tongue lolling on your erect bead as he sucked. His head buzzed, intoxicated by the fluctuating aroma surrounding him. He could die happy between your shuddering thighs threatening to close around his face, he didn’t mind it though, he can go on without breathing if only he could taste your sweet nectar.

Tasting you felt blasphemous, like he broke every heavenly rule there is by having you drip on his tongue. Sinful and outright disrespectful, and he loved it.

Heat ravaged his entire being alight, desire running rampant and restless under his skin. His fingers roamed your uncharted skin possessively, digging his fingers onto flesh and dragging them down, cupping and squeezing whatever he could reach while his mouth busied with your clit. Your hands grabbed at his head, fingers threading and entangling themselves onto his hair, confused whether to push him away or to tug him closer as you edged closer to the precipice of your high.

“I'm so close…! Jinnie please!”

With your back arched, hair laid around your head like a halo and chest glistening with sweat stuttering as you come to a close, skin illuminated by the soft lights of the room, Seokjin swore he has never seen a more beautiful sight than this.

His fangs ached once more.

“Fuck..! I’m gonna—”

He pulls away, teeth sinking into the plush of your thigh and your body seizes with pleasure, the ecstasy caused by his bite pushing you over.

Your blood is light and rich on his tongue, syrupy and honeyed, like the sweetest nectar found only in the garden of eden, the flavour heightened by your climax. Seokjin could taste the sugariness of your orgasm as if it was his own and he groaned. It was dizzying, the taste clogging his senses and stuffing cottons inside his mind as he took and took. He has never realised how hungry he was until he’s bitten into your skin.

His head swims, intoxicated by the raw magic in your blood entering his system, intertwining and entangling themselves into his own before boldly integrating with the flow of his power as if they've always been there. Energy buzzed under his fingers now erratically plunging and curling inside your cunt, further sweetening your blood as you edged between pleasure and pain from overstimulation.

Then in the midst of all the pleasure and nirvana, something clicks into place and he jerks awake from the haze.

Forcing himself to pull away, he almost black out as if he’s been taken off of life support—he feels like he did. Head blank and lightheaded, blood drunk. Even in his bleary state, he could feel it. An additional trace of your magic latching onto his own, a bond unconsciously made.

The uncomfortable stickiness in his boxers didn't go unnoticed and he buried his face into your thigh, blushing for no one in particular.

He cursed under his breath before pushing himself up and wishing you both into the comfortable clothing he had stocked up in his pocket dimension before taking his phone out of it, immediately greeted by the onslaught of text on his lock screen, all two hundred of them from his brothers who had no doubt felt the addition and his intense pleasure from feeding on you.

Normally, he'd be embarrassed by the thought of them knowing what he's been up to but there were more pressing matters to attend to. 

For example, the bond formed without your consent and his.

There's panic and confusion swirling madly like a hurricane through the six other bonds. He forced calmness down the lines tethered to his magic before turning back to the issue at hand.

He might have to wake you up and inform you of what happened.

But when he looked up and found your eyes closed, most likely blacking out from the intensity of the unprecedented bonding and the overstimulation from a vampire's bite, he figured that he'd deal with it tomorrow. You looked peaceful and he found himself mirroring the same sentiment, exhaustion weighing his bones. He dragged himself up next to you, arms wrapping around your torso as if he has always been doing so.

There's still insistent tugs down the lines of his bond, demanding answers and the constant buzzing from his phone but that's for tomorrow's Seokjin’s problem to solve, for now, he closes his eyes.

For the first time that year, Seokjin sleeps and wakes from the most pleasant rest he's had in centuries only to end it abruptly when he wakes up with the other side of the bed empty and he freaks.

______

“What the fuck do you mean you just left him?!”

“What the fuck was I supposed to do then?! If he's as high profile as you think, I don't think he'd appreciate waking up next to a one night stand!”

“Not all of them you—ARGH!”

Soomin groaned exasperatedly and loudly, folding over herself as she facepalms on the other armchair in your dorm's living room. Deeming it not dramatic enough, she grabs the pink throw pillow behind her and screams onto it.

Truth be told, leaving Jin earlier that morning placed a heavy weight on your heart. It felt so wrong to walk away from him, as if there's a string tying you to him and now it's pulled taut—which is a crazy statement to think about, there was no bonding ritual so how could you feel so dejected from closing the door behind you?

You have a couple of spare zeroes in your bank account now with bills paid and an expensive pair of black shoes already in transit for Soobin. Why would you be sad from leaving a one night stand?

You couldn't even believe you managed to bag someone that high in the social hierarchy. That party was a nightmare, walking in knowing all eyes would turn to you, all predatorial and hungry, it almost made you want to run back to your mother's arms. But you're an actress, theatre experience be damned if you weren't going to put on the greatest act of your life.

Fake till you make it, you always think and it led to you having the most earth shattering, blackout worthy orgasm as well as owning heaps of money.

Soomin has a different sentiment though, now standing up to crossover to where you sat across her before promptly hitting your body with the pillow.

“You're. So. Fucking. Stupid!” She screams like you had pissed and disrespected her ancestors’ grave, striking after each word. “That man might be Kim Seokjin from the most elusive clan in the world! Number one most sought bachelor and the country's most powerful sorcerer and you just walked away from him!”

“How could you be so sure it's him? All we got is a nickname.”

“His name is literally Jin which is short for Seokjin and he's a vampire wizard! You said he has a coven with a dragon? Well, guess what?! That dragon is Kim fucking Namjoon, another member of the Kim coven! That man is one of the richest in the fucking world and you just ditched his coven’s eldest!”

She swings for the last time and you weren't so fortunate the last few times—already letting down your guard when she began ranting—and it hits you square in the face. You groaned in pain, the zipper on the side of the pillow scratching your skin. 

Soomin’s anger immediately dwindled as she realised her error and gasped, falling to her knees and hands already reaching to cup your face to check for visible marks, pillow left abandoned on the carpet.

“Can't be damaging the face that bagged the Kim coven.”

“No damage here.”

“Just my faith in your decision making skills. I mean,” she stands, now more subdued and more disappointed than angry, still you eyed the pillow warily. “You've been wearing yourself down to death for years not only for you but also your family. If you were taken into the Kim Clan, you wouldn't have to worry about money anymore.”

Despite being one of your closest and longest friends, there's always been a huge difference with how you both perceive money. 

You're desperate for it, clawing and digging your hands bloody through the desolate desert for a chance of finding one small nugget to sustain your family while Soomin was familiar with it—she grew comfortably living in her parents’ spoils of years of hard work but never enough to buy the highest of quality items until her fiance came and suddenly, she had more than enough to spend for her luxury and you.

You strived and toiled for a smidge of stability whereas she revelled in anything life throws at her without worry because she has her parents to catch her if everything ever goes wrong.

She thinks of luxury as designer brands and ridiculously highly priced products that don't guarantee the greatest quality but you think of luxury as never having to worry about spending a cent over the designated budget for food shopping.

Even then, you loved her to the bone. Appreciated her like a sister from another mother.

“I can't afford to be distracted right now. I have a course to finish and a family to keep alive, I can't be hanging onto blind hope.”

Soomin's eyes softened, understanding and sighed. Turning around, she licked up the stray pillow before settling back into her chair and crossing her arms.

“I'm just… I just wanted you to be happier. It's a life mission of mine to make sure I won't die before seeing you living without stressing over details.” 

“I know.”

“I love you, leaflet.”

You laugh and she smiles. “I love you too, queen.”