#just want these two to interact more so bad

[fairestwriting]

Hello 👋 could I please request headcanons for leona's fem s/o defending him everytime one of the other characters start making backhanded comments to his face (if you've seen some of the vignettes you'll know what I mean) she doesn't reveal things like he's depressed or anything (tho he is) she just tells them it's shitty of them calling him lazy/selfish constantly without even knowing him personally

[Everyone treats leona like crap and I take personal offense to it >:( ]

You know i make fun of him on a regular basis. but theres a line thats gotta be drawn when it comes to leona bullying. cause damn this guy needs a real Break he cant even have issues in peace

𐙚 Leona Kingscholar

Before you got closer to him, there’s a fair chance the comments didn’t even stand out to you at all. It always felt a little unfair, yes, but not in a way that was particularly shocking, they were all just rude comments like any other. Back when you weren’t quite friends yet, and maybe even at the start of your friendship, you might have interjected with a simple ”hey, he’s not that bad” or "you don’t need to be rude about it”. It was just a gesture of basic politeness then, something the people around you seemed to lack.

But obviously, your perception of those interactions, and the way you see Leona’s situation itself, soon went through a rather radical change. Possibly even before you two started dating, or even before he “told you too much” — His own words, mumbled dismissively but bitterly, the day he came back after spending a weekend with his family and then proceeded to complain for a little longer than usual — As he warmed up to you, you started to notice things about him more. You started to see the spark of actual passion he has in his eyes during his club activities, the level of detail he gets into when analyzing things, the precise way he moved his chess pieces when you two played...

Above all, though, you started to notice how he often looked actually tired when he took part in any of the “slacking” he’s so infamous for. Learning the littlest bit more about his family life just worked as the final piece of the puzzle you’d been putting together without even noticing — And then, other people’s “rudeness” started to sound like something much more cruel. It didn’t help that he never seemed to react to it whenever he overheard others gossiping, or whenever you told him about the things you heard. “Why doesn’t he care?” The thought would echo in your mind for ages, trying to understand him through the tiny slivers of vulnerability he didn’t mean to show.

Now, as his girlfriend, you feel you just can’t let people say whatever they want, and you feel it more strongly than you ever have. ”Why don’t you mind your own business instead of talking about someone you don’t really know?” You snap back on instinct when one of your classmates, who was in Savanaclaw, comments on how lazy their dorm leader is. Their mouth closes instantly, regardless if you’ve made your relationship public or not — You realize that, on top of all the negative treatment Leona got, it was also extremely rare for others to defend him in any way at all. Enough that even a response that simple elicits shock from others.

”You know, it’s crazy to see you hanging out with Leona like that. I never thought I'd see anyone get so excited to spend time with him.” You hear some other day, while spending time in Savanaclaw’s common area, sat right next to Leona, and it just makes your blood boil. He’s just half-glaring at your particularly cocky acquaintance, sighing like he’s heard it a million times before, which you know he probably has. ”Hey, make sure you don’t get too influenced, we don’t need another person who just sleeps all day—”

”Yeah, you’re right. This type of person can be such a pain. I’m so glad I don’t know anyone who’s, you know, actually like that.” You say through grit teeth, just barely holding back aggression, and in the corner of your vision, the subtle flash of surprise in Leona’s face only encourages you to continue. ”Imagine if like, the Magift team had this sort of player in it… the club would be done for.”

They stare at you with wide eyes, having very much picked up on the aggression. The entire room is silent, you refuse to break eye contact, arms firmly crossed. ”Well, I mean…” The student stammers, but then, Leona himself speaks up for once. ”Did you not get her message? You need me to tell you to shut up instead?” He snaps, and they frantically shake their head, eyes fixed on the ground. You feel pride swelling in your chest, almost unable to hold back your smile.

”You know, Herbivore, if I needed a bodyguard I’d already have one.” He tells you later, in that same day. His tone has that snarky edge that feels like his default, but it’s much less pronounced than usual. You can even see a sort of softness in his eyes while he tries to play it cool. But needing and deserving are two different things, you think. As interactions like these repeat, with you defending him every time, you hope your message fully gets through to him, one day.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[interact-if]

Black History Month Author Spotlight: Lapin

To kickstart the Black History Month Author Spotlight series, I'd like to introduce everyone to our first IF author, Lapin (@harlequinoccult)!

(I had a ton of fun reading Lapin’s answers, and I’m sure you will too! Read on for a celebration of ‘weird,’ Lapin’s Black southern gothic / horror influences, and how a D&D game could lead to interactive fiction!

Lapin, thank you again for your candid, humorous responses, I am very honored to have gotten to know you better :D)

Author: Lapin

Black creole and cajun, artist and writer, and wannabe game developer

Games: Slaughter Squad (Horror, Slasher, Romance)

Synopsis: YOU HAVE A HUNGER A HUNGER THAT YOU’VE BEEN NEGLECTING For the most part, you’re a pretty normal mid-20-something year old who lives in a shitty apartment in the city. Well, except for one thing. Your.....”Associate” Carter “Dollface” Abernathy. Who is a murderer, and quite frankly, a sloppy one at that. And you’re the accessory to his crimes. No matter what way you’ve gotten to know the man, or how you feel about him, you’re stuck with him, and stuck with just being his little “helper” ........Or are you? Especially when you’re suddenly given a....Unique opportunity.

Games: The Valley of Luck (Fantasy, Adventure, Romance)

Synopsis: The Valley of Luck was said to be a myth. Something that grandparents would tell their grand-kids around a campfire. Even those who worshiped Lucian, The God of Luck, thought it nothing but an old wives tale. Until, one day, a man with an arm made of solid gold started telling people that he'd been there, that he'd seen the Valley. Word spread quickly, and suddenly, every continent was alight with the rumor that The Valley was real, that it could give you all the riches you could ever want, and then some. However, your quest, whether related to The Valley or not, will lead you down a much stranger path.

Quote from the interview:

My upbringing was a bit odd. I am the youngest of three, two older brothers, one being a half brother, in a black military household… Middle school Lapin was a jock. But, lo and behold, the internet started getting more popular and that kid's brain exploded from internet exposure, for better and for worse. … I feel that there is a specific and niche demographic of people like me that were raised by early 2000s to 2010s internet. And on that era of internet, were creepypastas, online horror, early ARGs….I ADORED internet horror, which was my gateway into classic horror, funnily enough. Slaughter Squad, in my eyes, is a letter to that black kid that wanted to be weird. Be weird, be messy, see a fucked up movie, get more out of life.

Read on for the full interview!

Tell me more about yourself! What are some things new readers or long-time readers might not know about you?

Both parts of my family are 100% from Louisiana, New Orleans and the deep south. My moms side have been there so long, we have two streets named after us.

Can you tell me a bit about what you’re working on right now and your journey into interactive fiction? What inspired the game/story you’re currently writing?

My main project, of course, is Slaughter Squad. I love slasher movies and horror media in general. But what I always noticed with horror/romance, at least in the visual novel scene, is that the main character is nearly always the one getting screwed over, so I thought, well, what if the bad guys actually are your peers? How would this dynamic change if they don't see you as prey? I never thought that premise would appeal so much to so many but hey, I can't complain! I adore seeing people having fun with the silly little concept I had.

Now, my secondary project, The Valley of Luck. Some may not know this, but this story is based off of a D&D campaign I DM'ed back in the day with my friends. All the ROs are NPCs that my friends had, or where going to encounter. I won't lie, I did shy away from it and changed some things when the whole debacle with Wizards of the coast (the company that "owns" D&D) Where making some...questionable decisions. But this story is my baby. My first born. This one has been in the works far longer than SLSQ and has a lot of background lore that I hope I get the opportunity to share.

I do have a few other projects bumping around, One I am particularly excited for, But that one will have to wait a little bit~

How has your identity, heritage/background, upbringing, or personal experiences influenced your storytelling or writing process? OR How does your work feature aspects of your identity / experience?

My upbringing was a bit odd. I am the youngest of three, two older brothers, one being a half brother, in a black military household. I never felt that I truly had a sense of identity until that household inevitably split up. Everyone talks about being the weird kid in middle school, but no one mentions being the "normal on the outside but wants to be the weird kid so bad its painful on the inside but can't because you were told that stuff is 'white people shit' " type of kid.

Middle school Lapin was a jock. But, lo and behold, the internet started getting more popular and that kid's brain exploded from internet exposure, for better and for worse. I was a little shitter on the internet, I can't lie about that, as much as I want to. But I feel that there is a specific and niche demographic of people like me that were raised by early 2000s to 2010s internet. And on that era of internet, were creepypastas, online horror, early ARGs....I ADORED internet horror, which was my gateway into classic horror, funnily enough. Slaughter Squad, in my eyes, is a letter to that black kid that wanted to be weird. Be weird, be messy, see a fucked up movie, get more out of life.

What does your writing process look like? Any rituals or habits? Any tips, tricks, philosophies or approaches that have worked very well for you?

Let your characters speak through you like you're being possessed by a demon.

What’s the one thing you’re really proud of that you’ve written so far? Do you have a favorite character or scene that you’ve written?

I am so serious.

is it wildly inconvenient? yes. does it help your writing a ton? also yes. Doing Roleplay with friends is a fantastic way to learn to do this. being a DM for a D&D game has basically made it so characters can simply speak from my brain at any given moment. It's also annoying because some of these people do NOT shut up. Learning how a character would react on the fly does wonders for dialogue writing and character analysis. Roleplay with your friends, or hell, strangers who are down to clown that could become friends. Be cringe. be free.

I love the opening to Slaughter Squad and if you told me to rewrite it with a gun to my head I would tell you to shoot me. I love how punchy it is and it came out exactly how I wanted it to. I don't play favorites with characters (<- lying) but my two favorites to write are the stinky little bastard cat Sterling in TVoL and.....Carter, from SLSQ. I love writing complete bastards. One being lighthearted and gets a pass for it because he's just a kitty cat and the other you want to actively beat his face in with your bare hands. It's SO funny.

If you were to say one thing to your readers, other authors, and/or the interactive fiction community: what would it be?

Write. Write it now. Doesn't have to be good doesn't have to be polish all that matters is that you WROTE IT. All the bells and whistles can come later!!!! Stop thinking about the later and think about the now!!!! Write what you love and never give two shits about if it's cringe!!! Be excellent to each other!!!

Any books, music, movies etc. you’re obsessed with at the moment, or which changed your life (or perspectives on something)?

GO LISTEN TO CHROMAKOPIA BY TYLER THE CREATOR RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!

This-or-that segment: (bold = Lapin’s pick)

Coffee or tea?

Early mornings or late nights?

City or countryside?

Angsty or Cozy romances? (Or enemies-to-lovers or best-friends-to-lovers?)  

Steady progress or frenzied binge-writing followed by periods of calm?

Summer or Winter?

First drafts or editing?

Introvert or extrovert?

Plotter or pantser?

Characters or plot first?

Lapin’s custom “this-or-that” pairing: Rain or Shine

More on Black Southern Gothic:

Black southern gothic can vary a lot, but when I think of it, I think of old semi abandoned wood shotgun houses in the swamp, all white tiny baptist churches where the white paint is peeling from the heat and humidity, riding horses down a dirt paved street while people still ride by in their old busted down 1960s chevys. Old plantation houses that have been reclaimed by the swamp. The dark, humid heat of the night on a street with no streetlights. Every house you see is absolutely haunted by something and not just ghosts. Voodoo and hoodoo is different than what people will tell you it is.

Sassafrass, Cypress and Indigo by Ntozake Shange, Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jessamin Ward, and anything by Toni Morrison 100%.

[persicipen]

𑑛 “IN HIS HANDS” ﾉ ALHAITHAM. GENSHIN IMPACT

gn reader ﾉ words 1.4k ✘ you’re a mess (affectionately). needy making out. sweet bantering. also fingering. he gives you the best orgasm of your life ✘ ADULT CONTENT ﾉ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Whatever has happened between you two — an exchange of sorts, that’s for sure, filled with misunderstood sentences and apologies and laughter — now dawns on you in the form of his handsome body closing the distance between you two. Alhaitham grins at that, such a smug smile of victory painting his face because he’s well aware that your initial reluctance was because of your bashfulness.

Still, he’d appreciate it a lot if you weren’t so quick to call him a blockhead when denying what you truthfully want. He knows you don’t mean anything bad by it; just some harmless teasing to get back at him when he makes jokes about the time when he couldn’t speak right with a hint of self-derision.

“I’m starting to think you’re too scared to admit I will make you feel a tad too good, hmm.” His lips find yours once again, but this time they have no hurry — the kiss is deep and passionate and every inch of his body comes to meet with yours, trapping your frame underneath.

“You t-think of yourself too highly!” You bite back with a giggle before a low moan of contentment escapes your mouth.

For someone so inscrutable around the edges he sure knows how to work that tongue, tasting every part of you with utmost care. In between kisses, you realise how silly all this is. Why can’t you just let go of any formality and give in to such a splendid idea? If not for you, then at least for him; he seems to have much better plans and an even absurder mind than you ever dared to explore. Surprisingly, as stiff as he appears at first glance because no way anyone would assume a scribe has such lewd thoughts running wild behind those turquoise eyes.

Well, you aren’t so dull-witted either. A bold move of your fingers against his pants makes him hum a wee louder, which encourages you to act with a bit more urgency and tug at the buttons to get them loose. Albeit it takes but one swift movement from his hand to stop you from doing so — he grabs your wrist midway and pulls away just enough to look down at you with mischief gleaming in his red irises. The kind of gleeful expression only a man who knows what’s coming next would show.

“Tch, how impatient can you be…”

You should’ve counted his remark as a threat given the treatment that follows. You should’ve known that the greatest weapon of the scribe is his fingers. And so, with touching and pressing and tapping and massaging, he moulds your body into that pliant self. His name leaves your lips as a quiet sigh, all previous complaints forgotten thanks to such attentive and tender ministrations.

No matter how heavenly it feels already, being touched and taken care of like this, your gut churns with frustration and dissatisfaction since his actions are purposely geared towards getting you riled up instead of helping you reach any sort of release. Though you aren’t about to ask for that with words, not yet anyway. If he needs more incentive to keep going further, though…

You attempt to untangle your trapped arm once again, fumbling a little while holding onto his shoulder. He arches an eyebrow with curiosity when his own light gasp breaks through the facade of such an adept liar. Still, the twitch and swelling of his cock in his pants confirm how much it took out of him to keep silent thus far.

“Why won’t you let yourself go, too?” You breathe out once your wrist is freed. The pads of your fingers tease his jawline, ghosting over his skin until they dip below his chin to lift his head slightly. He is confused by your inquiry, but not discouraged, per se, especially now that you look quite motivated to get him hot as well. “You think the only one enjoying this should be me… What happened with ‘I also deserve some of it’, huh?”

Your free hand slides downwards to grasp his crotch. Through the thick fabric, you notice how hard he is; that must’ve been painful indeed. It’s enough evidence for you to rub and squeeze a little, which prompts a satisfied growl from him, a sign that you’re right on track.

“Later. It is about you, after all.” His response comes in the shape of kisses along your neck and collarbones, though never enough to bruise — merely a tiny amount of pressure for you to remember it’s he who left them there.

At times, it almost tickles how delicate his lips are upon your skin, like feathers falling down a flock of birds flying high in the skies. The warmth that emanates from them, however, reminds you of where else you’d like to feel those lips. Alas, he works on you with his thumb and his other digits instead, stroking in circular motions that cause goosebumps to run up and down your whole figure.

It isn’t long until you arch your back ever so slightly, trying to escape what’s beginning to drive you insane; or at least crave something more than that. Every nerve under your sensitive spots is alight, yearning for more stimulation than his meek actions, even when that palm of his brushes against every sensitive area that turns your vision blurry.

You beg him to slow down, to give you some time to relax after barely reaching your high; he is merciless, dragging the pads of his fingers against the spongy spot deep inside of you, trying to force out of you another cry of pleasure. It crashes upon you like thunder during a heavy storm. Alhaitham’s touch makes you clench and curl into yourself without an ounce of shame. All of your attention lays solely on those fingertips dancing so flawlessly through your throbbing body, driving you mad.

His eyes, burning with a prideful need to prove his knowledge, are focused on your glowing face. Absolutely mesmerised by the moans escaping your mouth, Alhaitham finds a great passion in making you a mess — it feels so good knowing he can reduce you to such a state, mewling his name with tears gathering under your lashes.

He takes you into his muscular arms, tongue licking your tender skin, leaving behind wet trails. A shudder runs through you as he pulls back, your body falling limply on the plush mattress below you. His breath is heavy and ragged, looking at you like this — with lust. Once he is satisfied, he lets go of the last drops of moisture that managed to make it to your thighs. He draws himself closer to you, resting his forehead against yours as he whispers sweet praise into your ear.

“You were doing so well…” Spoken in his breathy, shuddering voice, it echoes through your heart, down to your core clenching on nothing but the remaining wetness.

It only makes you feel even more sensitive than before, and you cannot help but let out an audible moan again. You can almost hear the sound vibrating throughout his body as well, and he knows he will not have the strength to stop now, especially after what just happened between you. He kisses your neck once more, his hand reaching underneath your blouse, running his rough fingertips along your skin.

You whine again, sensing goosebumps rise all over your figure at his touch. He begins kissing all of your face, leaving you gasping for air. You close your eyes tightly and try to keep your breathing steady, but his hands roam through your chest, teasing you in a way that seems to know your weakest spots — driving you crazy.

After a while, when his lips leave your skin, the scribe rests his chin on your shoulder, both of you staring at each other without saying a word.

“Are you still okay?” he asks softly, a gentle smile playing around his mouth and his fingers trailing gently up your stomach.

“I am. I’m sorry I ruined the bedsheets though,” you say apologetically, feeling the embarrassment creeping up your spine.

You have never done anything like this before. Never experienced anything of such intensity.

“It’s fine,” he replies, a small laugh breaking past his lips as he caresses your cheek with his thumb. “I wouldn’t mind if you did it again…” he whispers seductively, his gaze fixated on yours.

Your cheeks burn, and you nod slowly, biting your lip as you turn your head away from him, trying so hard not to show how affected you are. It isn’t easy, seeing Alhaitham looking at you in that kind of manner. How could you refuse this man?

[topluvr]

HIII I LOVE YOUR WRITING!!! can i request a jiyong enemies to lovers?? doesn’t matter if its headcannons or not!

Drunken Confessions

Kwon ji-yong x Reader

A/N: I feel like this is more frenimes to lovers so I'm sorry, but thank you for the request. Also reader is daesung's younger sister.

warnings: alcohol use

word count: 2.3k

Your eyes slowly shift open, the sunlight from the window shining through into your bedroom, the brightness caused you to squint your eyes shut. Once you adjusted to the light you got out of bed and started your daily routine.

You’ve been living in your new apartment for a couple months now, after finally moving out of your parents home you moved into a smallish apartment in seoul.

Your brother ‘Daesung’ made sure you had everything you needed. He helped you with unpacking, building your furniture and helping you decorate, his friends helped out sometimes too, well except for one. ‘jiyong’. For some reason he hated you.

You did grow up with his friends around, you were all close they always protected you, it was like having three extra older brothers. expect for jiyong, at first he was sweet to you always making sure you were okay and checking up with you occasionally.

However when you grew up and things changed, his mood and attitude towards you were replaced with more hateful ones, you had no idea why he was like this.

At first you thought he was just going through a lot but when it turned into years and his hatred towards you didn’t change, you started to feel the same way about him, Well kind of you've been crushing on him since the first time you met but pushed them aside for many reasons. The two main ones being your brother daesung would never let it happen and jiyong obviously didn’t feel the same way.

The two of you having at least one argument every time you go visit your brother, surprisingly you loved it, you loved when his eyes burn daggers at you when you tease him, you loved the way his voice slightly raised every time you annoy him. He treats you like shit but this only made you crave his attention more.

Once you were dressed, you headed towards your local coffee shop and ordered your daily coffee, you also got the guys their orders to surprise them with, before heading to YG.

When you arrived at the building the staff immediately recognised you and you were let straight in, you walked into the elevator and pressed the second floor button. The doors slid open and you stepped out into the long hallway heading towards the room your brother and his friends were usually in when they were working.

Your hand knocks against the door giving it two light taps. You hear a voice say come in so you twist the handle and walk in. The sight you were met with made your stomach flutter, it was jiyong he was sat in the middle of the couch legs spread, his black hair slicked back but a few strands falling in his face, you didn’t realise how long you’d been staring until you heard a throat being cleared.

“Enjoying the view?” He smirked looking at you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You scoff placing the coffee on the table in front of you.

“I know you want me, don’t hide it baby.” He jokingly pouted, You gave him a glare.“Shut up jiyong, you’re so full of yourself it’s sad.”

He stood from the couch and walked over to you. “Poor me.” He faked sobbed wiping his eyes, You hated it, hated the way his voice made you feel, hated the way your cheeks would heat up when he looked at you, You hated how bad you wanted him.

You stood in silence glaring at him, him doing the same until he moved closer, you could feel his breath on your face, your heart beating faster, ‘what is he doing’ you thought remaining still.

His face was now even closer to yours he leans in. “Thank you for the coffee y/n.” He laughs grabbing one of the coffees you placed on the table before walking out.

After you stood there for a minute trying to calm yourself down over the interaction with jiyong. You hear the door open and your head turns. You were met with the smiling face of your brother.

“Hi little sister, i didn’t know you were coming.” He said walking over to hug you. “I know, it was a last minute decision, I got everyone coffee though.” You giggle pulling back from his hug.

“So how is everything going with your job”. Daesung asked. “Yeah it’s going fine actually i’m enjoying it so far, and i’ve met so many new friends.” You smiled.

-

After you spent almost the whole morning with your brother you headed back home and decided to relax for the evening.

*beep* *beep*

You pick up your phone to check the notification.

y/f/n: Hi y/n, me and the girls are going out tonight, to the new bar that just opened, do you want to come?

y/f/n: It will be fun ;)

y/n: I’d love to, what time?

y/f/n: Be ready for 7 we will come get you in a cab.

You put your phone back down and got up to go get ready for the night.

After your shower you went to your closet to find some clothes, a while after searching you decided to go with a black short dress, fishnet tights and your black heels.

Your makeup didn’t take you long and by the time you were fullly dressed your phone buzzzed.

y/f/n: We are outside :)

You switched you phone off placing it in the little black purse you chose to match your outfit with, you also grabbed a jacket before leaving your apartment.

You and the girls arrive at the club, after waiting in the line for a while you were finally let in. You and two of the girls headed to the leather booths near the back of the club, the other girls headed to the bar to get the drinks started.

You all chatted for a while, and after many drinks some of the girls decided to head to the dancefloor, you and (y/f/n) stayed behind on the seats relaxing into the feeling of the alcohol.

“so how’s it going with that guy your always gushing over, jiyong is it?.” She smirked before taking a sip of her drink, You gave her a glare. “I do not gush over him and he’s being a asshole like usual.” You say rolling your eyes.

“hmm sure y/n.” She laughed, you look at her. “why don’t i go get us some more shots.” You fake smile, standing up, she let out another drunken laugh as you left.

Once you got to the bar you ordered 5 shots, you quickly downed two and headed back to the table with the rest.

As the night went on and your body consumed more alcohol. He couldn’t leave your head, you just can’t stop thinking about how close he got to you earlier, how his lips were so close to yours.

Your thoughts consumed you, you imagined how his lips would feel on yours and how badly you needed them there, you softly bit your lip at the thought.

Meanwhile (y/f/n) thought it would be a good idea to call jiyong, she could tell you were drunk and not really interacting with the group.

She leaned over and grabbed your phone from the table before heading outside, She unlocked your phone and searched for his contact, once she found it she clicked on it and let it ring.

“Hi, this is jiyong right?” (y/f/n) asked once the call connected. “yes, who is this?” He replied confused looking at your name on his screen but not hearing your voice.

“This is y/n’s friend, can you come pick her up she’s had too much to drink and no one else is picking up.” (y/f/n) confessed into the line.

Ji-yong replied almost immediately “Yeah send me the address i’ll be there.” He said sternly through the phone, after he got the address he said bye to your friend and left his house.

His drive over to you was silent yet his head was thinking of all the ways he’ll scold you for drinking too much, his hands grip tight on the steering wheel his jew clenching at the thought of you in such a vulnerable state.

He pulled up to the address your friend sent him, He made his way through the doors and headed in towards the crowd of people, his eyes scanning every inch of the room. That’s when he looked to the back where all the leather booths were, he saw your face and the pout that was plastered on it.

He made his way over to you and your friends. “y/n”. He said loudly over the music, Your head shoots up at the sound of your name, that’s when your eyes meet his, you were completely shocked to see him, but your drunk state causes you to stand up.

“JIYONGGG.” You screeched flinging your arms around his neck, your legs loosing a bit of balance when you stood up causing his arm to wrap around your waist, before you could even ask him why he’s here.

“let’s go.” He said in your ear, pulling you away from your friends, you didn’t protest just kept a hold of the man that’s been on your mind all night.

Once you got into his car your both sat their for a moment in silence. “How stupid can you be, getting this drunk you can barely walk and that outfit,is that for all the men you’ve probably been throwing yourself at all night.” He scoffed into the silence.

Your anger boils at his words, who does he think he is, speaking to you like that. “Why are you such an asshole.” You spoke looking at him.

“why are you such a bitch?” He replied, his eyes burning into yours.

You let out a sigh at his words and your head turned to face the window,no words enter the air after that,the only sound you heard was his keys as he started up the car. The ride to your apartment was uncomfortably silent , your head was slightly spinning from the alcohol.

his car pulled up to your apartment building and his door opened, He got out and walked to the passenger side to help you out.

You held onto his arm and slowly stepped out of the car. “why do you hate me?” You asked, your drunken words went straight to his ears and his head shot up to look at you. “I don’t hate you y/n.” He sighed.

“Then why aren’t you ever nice to me, you used too be i don’t understand what i’ve done.” The words fell from your lips, you raised you eyebrows waiting for his reply, you wanted to know why he treats you like this was it something you did you thought.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, I just- it’s hard to explain.” He replied stroking his hands through his hair and sighing. “Just fucking tell me jiyong i’m sick and tired of you treating me like shit, and i know i say things back but i’m just giving you the same treatment i get.” You scoffed pointing your finger in his chest.

The alcohol was definitely making you confident, the words you spoke would have never come out your mouth sober.

“It would ruin things i can-“ Before he could speak your words cut him off. “JUST FUCKING TELL ME JIYONG!” you yell, you were getting even more angry why won’t he just tell you.

“FUCK, i like you okay since the first day we met, you’re all i can think about and i’m sorry for being a asshole but i couldn’t do that to dae he would kill me if he knew i was thinking about his little sister like that, so i wanted you to hate me that’s why i treat you the way i do” His words hit you with relief, your body was frozen though and your eyes still connected to his.

You both stood there staring at each other, he was waiting for you to speak to say anything about his confession and when you didn’t he sighed. “Just forget about this okay.” He said heading back over to the drivers side of his car.

“wait” You spoke out gripping his wrist, he stops in his tracks. “I like you too, i always have.” The words finally left your lips, your head was spinning not because of the alcohol but because of him.

His body turned facing yours once again, he took two long strides, his hands grabbing your face, pulling your lips to his immediately.

The kiss initially took you by surprise but after a couple seconds your lips relaxed into his, his hands gradually moved to your waist to rest there and yours went to his hair.

Your heart was beating so fast you thought it would explode, the amount of times you’ve thought about this and now it’s actually happening and it’s so much better then you could have ever imagined. His soft lips exploring yours.

You felt his tounge wanting to enter your mouth so you let him, You moaned when your felt his tounge swirl against yours.

“The things you do to me.” He smirked pulling away. “I’ve wanted that for so long.” You whisper eyes never leaving his.

“Fuck baby, me too.” He groaned pulling you into a messier kiss then before. After what felt like hours he finally pulled back stroking your face in the process.

“I’m sorry for everything y/n.” He genuinely apologised, you smirk at his words. “It’s okay, you admitted to being an asshole and i’m glad you’ve finally come to your senses.” You tease.

“You little brat.” He laughed, his hands pulled you in closer to him and his hands came down to give your ass a playful slap. You both burst out laughing at his action.

“How did you know where i was anyway?” You asked. “Your friend called said you had too much to drink and no one else was picking up.” He replied pulling you into his side as you both start walking to your apartment. “oh my god, i’m going to kill her.”

[f1cflcfic]

Just Because I Called You (Carlos Sainz) - part iii

pairing: carlos sainz jr x fem!reader

summary: y/n knows there's a reason for his contact details to be saved under 'do not interact', but one call does not mean you miss him.

genre: written au, brief 18+ content, angst

wordcount: 3.2k

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons

previous parts available here.

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This isn’t happening.

It must be a dream, or a nightmare – you’re not entirely sure yet.

Carlos is outside. Has been outside for about two minutes now, if the delivery notification of his message is anything to go by.

Suddenly, that earlier idea of having a fifth martini and shot at the bar seems like a very bad one. In fact, you’re quite certain you wholeheartedly regret them when you stand up and have to immediately grip the back of the chair so as to not fall over. For a brief moment, you consider leaving through the back alley – but then you realise that it really doesn’t make a difference.

Carlos is already here, waiting.

It’s easy to lie to yourself, and pretend that it’s just the alcohol that’s making you feel lightheaded, as you make your way over to the podium once your team is crowned the winner of this month’s pubquiz. It’s easy to pretend that the air feels electric just because you’ve won, and you’re only looking out into the crowd to cheer your victory. It’s easy to pretend that you’re just tired and drunk, and that’s why you’re leaving so soon.

It’s too easy to spot Carlos hiding in the shadows of the pub, and follow him out to his unassuming Golf amidst all the opulence in Monaco, and slip into it like you still belong.

The alcohol has left you a little uncoordinated, and struggling with the seatbelt. On your fourth attempt, Carlos’ large hand reaches out and stills your movements. The ache in you grows a little bigger as you quietly watch him buckle you in, and you try not to focus on the heat his fingers leave behind on your skin.

Desperate not to somehow ruin the precarious peace – or the calm before the storm, your eyes flit across his car. There’s the chilli charm and your housekey, still dangling against the dash. And there’s the stuffy in the back, resembling Carlos’ family dog.

Everything looks the same as it always did.

It’s comforting and awful all at once.

“Smartinis. I like that one,” he murmurs with a soft smile, but you refuse to look at him. Won’t acknowledge that the way it rolls off his tongue is exactly the way in which you’ve been waiting to hear the team name spoken all night.

The problem is that you really do not trust your tongue around him, especially not when it’s already been loosened by alcohol. This cannot end up like that night ten days ago. No matter how much some part of you might want it to.

“What’d you win?”

When he doesn’t start the car immediately, clearly waiting for a response of sorts,  you sigh, fogging up a tiny part of the window your head is resting on. “Restaurant voucher.”

“Oh,” he nods to himself, and you can feel his eyes boring into the back of your head as you meticulously draw a martini glass. “That’s nice.”

It feels awkward and uncomfortable, as the stifling silence descends on you once more. Someone walks past his car, and you wonder what it is exactly that he’s waiting for. Thanks? Acknowledgment? Forgiveness? Answers?

The thought alone has you shaking your head. There’s quite some answers that you’d like from him, instead.

Curiosity wins in the end. “How’d you know where I was?”

“Your location – you never turned it off,” he answers, guilt creeping into his voice as if he hadn’t wanted to admit that particular secret. You can’t help yourself as you turn over in surprise, knowing full well that you’ll find his brown eyes already staring back at you. There’s a whirlpool of emotions in them, and it hurts more than it should, knowing that you’ve inadvertently caused it.

His hand is resting on the console between your seats, and you fight the urge to grab onto it. To seek comfort in his touch, and provide some in return. Instead, you purse your lips and nod to yourself.

“And my sister,” he adds all of a sudden, as if he can’t stand the idea of not spilling his guts to you fully, completely.

You wish he’d done so earlier.

“She – she texted you were drunk, said you were upset. That someone had tried to come on to you.”

His hand leaves the console, and you follow the movement with your eyes as he runs his fingers through his hair. “I know it’s not my place, but I just wanted to make sure you were safe. And then when you didn’t reply, I just – I’m sorry. Joder.”  

It shouldn’t make you feel warm inside. Of course he cares. Carlos, for all his faults, is a good man. One who cares about his sisters. If his sister had implied you needed him, of course he’d come running.

It doesn’t mean anything else, you tell yourself. He hadn’t called, just because. Hadn’t reached out because he’d been missing you. He wouldn’t call for something so silly. He’d called, because his sister had made him feel like he needed to assuage her concerns. That’s all.

When you still don’t respond, he sighs and starts the ignition. But what is it that you even want to say? How can you possibly make sense of your alcohol-infused thoughts?

“He shouldn’t have texted you back,” you settle on. You’re still afraid of looking at him directly, of just how easily your carefully constructed walls would all but implode. Instead, you fixate on the way in which he holds the steering wheel, and how he clenches it just so when you speak. You’ve always known Carlos to be a relaxed driver, and his tight grip is so unlike him, that your eyes shoot up to gage his expression before you’ve even realised. Where he’d been looking at you earlier, he’s focusing on the road now.

“It’s okay ne- I mean. We’re not,” he struggles, as if for a loss of words. “We’re not together anymore.”

You nod, biting your lip. The shoot of pain blooming from your lips distracts from how much it hurts to hear it put so bluntly. To watch Carlos’ tight expression as he says it. It doesn’t feel as liberating as you’d hoped, instead an ugly sense of disappointment coming to the surface.

“Still. You’re not his to text,” you insist. Neither is he yours – not anymore, your brain helpfully provides. It’s Carlos’ turn to remain quiet, the silence feeling all but suffocating.

“Besides, I’m not dating Dean. Or anyone. But especially not him. He’s my colleague – the one your sister mentioned,” you blurt, as if compelled. Maybe it’s a sick need to break the silence, break the tension, a pathetic attempt to reach out. Or maybe it’s the liquid courage, you reason.

When Carlos doesn’t say anything, just briefly looks over with soft eyes and a stubble you’d really love to feel scratch against your skin again, you can’t help but continue.

“Would she have texted you, if she’d known?”

He tenses again, fingers flexing on the wheel. When he doesn’t respond, you try again – asking the question you’ve been dancing around.

“Carlos. Why didn’t you tell your sister about us?”

“Why didn’t you?” He parries, and you frown. It’s the coward’s way out. It’s exactly what had caused you to end up like this, sitting in the same car but feeling miles away apart from each other.

“Don’t do that,” you whisper. “Don’t fucking turn it around on me. It’s your family.”

“I wanted them to be yours, too.”

It’s said so quietly, you almost miss it. Panic unfurls in your chest at the insinuation. Hadn’t this been exactly what you’d been so afraid of?

“It’s not easy, you know? Trying to figure out what happened, and coming to terms with that, and then telling them,” he starts again. “I wanted – I didn’t want this either.”

“So then why you’d come at all,” you snap, tears welling up in your eyes. Whether out of frustration, heartbreak, or alcohol, you can’t even tell. Clarity. You’d kill for some fucking clarity. The question is if Carlos Sainz Junior is the person who can even grant it.

“Because I lo-care, Y/N. And I know you do, too. You could’ve told me to go. Could’ve chosen to stay and ignore me. But you didn’t. And that means something. At least it does to me,” he sounds upset, accent getting thicker as he speaks.

As the car winds down the Monaco roads, creeping closer and closer to your apartment building, it hits you. What if he runs out of road? If there’s nowhere else to go? What happens when time runs out on you to have this conversation? It terrifies you – imagining a future with, or without Carlos. It’s equally frightening, and therein lies the problem, doesn’t it?

“So then why’d you leave? You could’ve stayed. The other day when we – well,” your voice cracks, and you hate it. Hate how vulnerable he makes you feel, even now. Even when you’ve done everything you could to protect and arm yourself. It’s still led you back to this.

One of his hands slips from the steering wheel, reaches out as if driven by instinct, before retreating to a neutral spot on the console instead. He mutters something under his breath, then sighs in resignation.

“Don’t ask me questions you don’t really want to hear the answer to.”

The biting remark almost makes you flinch, but it’s a sudden yet violent wave of nausea that actually does you in. With one hand pressed to your mouth, you desperately reach out to find purchase on Carlos’ arm.

You try to breathe in and out through your nose, suppressing the urge to gag. He pulls over to the side of the road, and within seconds he’s at your side. “It’s okay nena, take a deep breath, there you go.”

It’s probably one of the most embarrassing moments in your life – dry-heaving on the highway, in the middle of the night, with your ex there to witness it all. Consoling you, offering you a bottle of water when inevitably you do throw up the contents of that evening.

“I’m so- fuck, so sorry,” you take another gulp of water, and dab at your mouth with the tissue Carlos hands you next. Refusing eye contact, you slide down to sit on the gravel, leaning against the car.

He sits down next to you, just close enough for your shoulders to brush, but doesn’t say anything.

“I almost threw up in your Golf.”

“It could’ve been my Ferrari,” he tries to lighten the mood, but instead you let out a strangled laugh that turns into a hiccup as the first tear rolls down your cheek.

“Weirdly, I think I wouldn’t feel as bad. Your parents bought you this car – I know you love it the most.” Another tear follows, dropping onto your shirt. “And I almost ruined it. As usual.”

Carlos stiffens next to you. “And now I’m crying. Shit. I’m sorry Carlos, I think I just – I need to go home. Sleep it off.”

You push the palms of your hands into your eyes, hoping to rub away the tears and keep new ones from falling. It doesn’t work, because tan fingers encircle your wrists to pull them away from your face.

He cradles your hands in his lap, then gently dips his head down so there’s nowhere to hide from him. It leaves you feeling incredibly bare.

“You didn’t ruin it. And I don’t love it the most,” there’s nothing but conviction in his eyes when he catches your gaze. Except, when you get sidetracked by the way his eyelashes fan across his cheeks, you see a flicker of something else. Hesitation.

The air feels charged, as if you’re both waiting on the precipice of something. You’re acutely aware of the way his hands tighten briefly around your own, how his shoulder nudges yours, and how his chest rises and falls just slightly quicker than usual.

Desperate to break the tension, and feeling entirely too close to losing it completely, you try and claw back what little control you have over the situation.  

“I don’t think I’ll puke anymore,” you whisper. It should make him recoil, should make him want to back away. But instead, Carlos tries to hide a smile before pressing a brief kiss on your forehead. As he pulls back, his eyes flicker to your lips, and almost on instinct, you tilt your head upward.

He swallows, voice dragging as his tongue darts out to lick his lips. “I – let me get you home.”

You nod, but make no move to get up or disentangle yourself from him. Carlos does it for you, slowly severing the connection as he stands up and pulls away.

The drive home isn’t far anymore, and within fifteen minutes, the car comes to a standstill again. You’ve spent it in silence, taking small sips of water every once in a while as you tried to gather your thoughts. Not that you’ve made much progress on that front. You’re still as confused, wondering exactly why it is that you keep rubbing at your ribs – as if there’s some physical pain you can just magic away.

“We’re here,” Carlos breaks first. He looks over at you, an unspoken question hanging in the air.

You know it’s dumb, that it’s you falling in exactly the same trap as you did ten days ago. But just like that, he’s quietly following you out the car and into the building.

The elevator ride sees you ignore his presence, but you feel the heat emanate from his body as he hovers behind you and presses the button to your floor.

When you unlock the door, Carlos steps inside before you do. “Let me help you,” he offers as explanation. Before you can even realise what he means, he’s bending down, unlacing your shoes and motioning for you to use him for balance as you step out of them.

“You want to shower?” He asks next, and you find yourself nodding dumbfounded.

He toes off his own shoes quickly, hangs your coat in the coatrack and disappears down the hallway. When he returns, holding a towel and your favorite showergel, you follow him into the bathroom. Carlos helps you undress, and it’s soft in a way you can’t quite understand. Can’t fully grasp what’s happening between the two of you now. Why he’s here, why he’s being so kind, why he’s taking care of you – when you’ve done nothing but push him away.

He motions for you to step under the shower, and you’ve never felt more confused when he makes to turn away. So you find yourself asking if he’ll join you.

“Just – could you wash my hair? It’s all knotted.” It’s a flimsy excuse, and you both know it. But he relents, anyways. Gives in, like he always does – like you’d hoped he’d do. His eyes lock on yours as he strips off his clothes, before joining you.

It’s not sexual, but it feels intimate and right for all the wrong reasons, you tell yourself. Carlos’ hands move through your hair, scratching just so at your scalp that you can’t help but moan.

His breath hitches, and when you return the favour, letting your fingers linger at the nape of his neck, it’s as if there’s a coil spring between the two of you, ready to snap.

Once the water’s shut off, and Carlos steps away to grab your towel, you step up right behind him. Even though he turns around in surprise, he doesn’t say anything. Waits for your cue, as he slowly drags the towel down your shoulders and back. A small collection of water drops runs in rivulets down his chest, getting tangled in the chest hair he’s yet to shave off. You flick your gaze up at Carlos’ eyes, molten chocolate staring back at you. The coil snaps. Without breaking eye-contact, you step even closer and can feel his arousal as you move to kiss the water away.

It all goes downhill quick after that.

Thirty minutes later, you’re staring up at the ceiling from where you’re lying side by side on your bed. Your hair’s still damp, sticking to your neck.

Silence descends, uncomfortably stifling the room.

“We shouldn’t have done that. I can’t – this is no good.” His words are like a punch to the gut. Because he sounds broken, and regretful, and yearning all at the same time. And you can’t handle it. Because you know he’s right. This isn’t healthy.

“How did we end up like this?” You ask quietly instead, carefully keeping your gaze fixed on the LEGO flowers that adorn your dresser. You probably should’ve gotten rid of those, too. Thank God your friends don’t know that it was Carlos who got them for you, and who you spent an entire afternoon with arranging LEGO bouquets.

“You ended things,” Carlos unhelpfully reminds you. His tone is unusually sharp, even though you can tell he’s trying not to show it. It hurts to know you brought that out of him, but it’s also exactly why you did it in the first place – end things.

Love shouldn’t hurt, not like this.

So it isn’t love, is what you’ve been telling yourself. It can’t be. Because you won’t allow it. But that doesn’t keep your treacherous heart from wanting it all the same.

“Would you have called, if your sister hadn’t texted?”  Do you miss me?

“You don’t want to hear that, Y/N.”

“Humor me,” you plead.

“Of course. I miss you. I miss you all the time.” It sounds anguished, and strangled as the words leave his mouth. You close your eyes, and take another breath.

Maybe there’s still a sliver of liquid courage swimming through your veins, or maybe it’s the post-orgasmic haze that lets the words slip by your usual defences. But you find yourself unable to stop them from coming out your mouth this time. “Then how is it that you are so competitive on track, but you wouldn’t fight for us? For me?”

You hate how small and vulnerable you sound, or how your threat feels thick all of a sudden. Stupid, stupid girl. Hasn’t he told you? Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.

If Carlos is surprised by your sudden mood change, he doesn’t say. Instead, his fingers curl around your own, squeezing them briefly.

“I don’t want my relationship to be defined by competition. Love should be freely given, no?”

You’re quiet, trying to compute what he’s saying. You’ve never thought of it that way. Before you can object, he continues on. “And I’m here. I’m always here. Even when you don’t want me to. You can push me away, but it won’t change – I cannot change it.”

“Except for when you have to leave,” you whisper unhelpfully. He rolls onto his side and stares at you. It’s hard to make out his expression in the dark when you inevitably cave and turn around as well, focusing on where you know his face to be.

“Just because I have to, doesn’t mean I want to. But I won’t ask you for something you’re not willing to give.”

When you don't answer, he sighs. The bed dips, and while part of you would love nothing more than to latch onto him and keep him close - there's the part of you that's so afraid of what it might mean to do so, that lets him go.

Five minutes later, he's out the door.

It's not until the next morning that you realise his hoodie's gone too.

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Let me know what you think <3 Likes, comments, reblogs, asks are all appreciated. Next chapter will be out next week.

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[honourablejester]

I think you’re right, yeah. The healing thing really jarred when we started out talking about setting up a big cool dungeon that your players will want to spend on long time exploring, but talking about having to go back out to heal up at all also sounded odd in that context. I think he is talking about two different types of dungeons/campaigns, without quite realising that he’s done so.

Which is why it is important, I guess, to sit down and examine your proposed mechanics against your stated goals before you start. Because yes, the meshi style dungeon is very much the one I'm looking for as well.

The tiered vs random layout didn’t strike me as that dissonant, on the other hand, given the way he was talking about it. A tiered dungeon where things generally do get weirder and tougher and more fantastical the further down you go can still be randomised somewhat by setting up access points that let you skip levels from where you are. If level 2 has a passage down to level 3, but also a secret one down to level 5 if the party is feeling frisky, that gives them some room to try out more difficult areas out of sequence.

There’s also some randomness that’ll be brought in by things like party composition. A party of all martials might take their chances on sneaking or fighting their way past higher challenge enemies before they’d take the risk of trying to navigate a vast chasm, where a party with an arcane caster or two would be happier with the chasm. So even though a level might be ‘higher tier’ in the sense of higher CR monsters, it might still be easier to access, given the option, than a ‘lower tier’ area that requires specific magic or tools to access that the party just doesn’t have yet.

And there’s room to mix things up, then. The arcane party who had fly spells to navigate the chasm might try accessing deeper levels by it, but realise on getting down to the bottom that they definitely need more hitpoints to stay down here, so maybe they should fly back up a level or two, but they also find something shiny on the floor of the chasm to reward them for taking the risk. While the party of martials might find that the tougher inhabitants they took the risk of interacting with have a means to get further down the chasm, such as a magic item or even a rickety lift, and maybe they get an ally out of taking their risk.

I don’t find it dissonant to imagine a dungeon that does, generally speaking, get weirder and more fantastical and more difficult the further down into it you go, but also has multiple different ‘routes’ down through it that present different challenges and access different levels as they go. And if a particular route really doesn’t work for your party composition and tools, then you backtrack to earlier levels to look for other routes down. So long as the party maintains a general downward track where they’re levelling up as they head further in, it’s all good. Maybe they find something like a chasm that allows them to try a foray deeper than they’re technically rated for, and they give it a shot to see if it’s doable or not. So long as they have routes to retreat along if it goes bad, that’s just one more option that they can have fun trying out.

And you can do things like put a flooded level up at level 4, which can be accessed relatively early by a party that has someone with spells or tools to handle that, but you also put a collection of caps of water breathing as loot somewhere around level 7 or so, which a party without spellcasters could find after having used a route that took them from level 2 to 5 since level 4 was blocked, and can decide if they want to head back up to explore level 4 after all, or just continue on.

This also does encourage them to collect tools and items along the way, and gives you options for rewards and loot that act as basically keys to certain areas.

I think that was the general direction he was going for with the randomness? But you can also have like, higher CR monsters just wandering around, like a 5% chance that the purple worm burrows their way up to level 5 while the party is on it, and the party has an absolutely terrifying encounter that they have to basically find a way to run away from, and then the purple worm just disappears again, doing what an animal does, but now there’s a burrow that could potentially lead the party deeper, again, than they’re rated for, if they want to risk climbing into the burrow of a thing that just nearly totalled them to see where it came from.

You can keep an overall tiered, ordered structure, while still allowing the party a good bit of leeway in where they go and how they want to approach things. The trick is just to make sure you have multiple routes into and out of any given area, so the party gets to make decisions on which ones they want to try, and they don’t end up fully bottlenecked somewhere they can’t go forward from but also are somehow blocked from going back.

Which, if all else fails, is where your roving burrowing animals of various CRs might come in very handy. Heh.

I’m watching a (3hr) discussion on megadungeons as a concept for modern d20 games on a youtube channel called Knights of Last Call, and I’m enjoying it a lot, because it does explore a couple of points that I’ve been very much looking for. Namely, the idea that megadungeons should be there to enable and reward exploration. Which means, among other things, there can’t be a time-pressure meta plot (you have to get to the bottom of the dungeon to stop the lich before he destroys the world), and that the game/DM needs to explicitly reward (with xp, magic items, etc) the act of exploration, not the act of killing things while exploring.

Because the thing I always found enchanting about the idea of massive dungeons and complexes was the idea of going in to see what’s down there. Not being forced in for a plot, but just … because I’m curious, and I want to see what’s there. And he discusses how modern d20 games like Pathfinder and 5e can actually be better for that than OSR-type games because characters are more powerful and sturdy and can survive doing that. You can explore, and (most likely) have a decent shot of surviving said exploration. You can take risks because you’ll survive a broader range of risks.

The thing with a megadungeon is that it’s there to be explored, and so to encourage, enable and reward exploration for people who want to play that kind of game in the first place, you have to a) not penalise taking risks and going exploring by making it instantly lethal to try and go anywhere, and b) actively reward going exploring by making it the main way your character gets more cool things, such as magic items and/or new abilities from levelling up.

(And, he’s less explicit about this, but also making the rewards self-contained to the dungeon, things you find and gain in the dungeon, and not things you’d have to bring outside the dungeon to benefit from. So cool items you can keep and use, experience to level up, knowledge that would allow you to access new areas, etc, not things like gold where you’d have to go back outside to spend it, or quests that you have to go to external parties to be rewarded for).

The discussion goes into some detail about potential ways to do this, and potential problems with various methods, but overall I just really like the tone of the discussion. Because that very much is a thing I’ve been looking for for a long, long time. A game that rewards the simple desire to go somewhere and see what’s there. I don’t want to explore a massive underground complex because there’s a bad guy down there and I need to stop him, I want to explore it because there’s rumours that there’s a vast underground sea down there where creatures that haven’t been seen in aeons are rumoured to still live (blame reading Journey to the Centre of the Earth as a kid), or to discover why there’s a massive dungeon down there and learn who built it, or just because it’s a big strange space and I just want to see what it looks like.

He does talk about how you make dungeons interesting enough to justify that, things like thematically-distinct areas (like the underground lake, or the weird sunless forest, or the ghoul town, etc) so that it’s not one endless slog of ‘10ft wide corridors and stone rooms’, and to make it interconnected so that the players have full choice of where they go and what risks they want to take (enabling them to skip ahead difficulty levels, or retreat if need be, or escape areas that they’re not enjoying). And to possibly put in some distinct … not end goals, but capstone events, like a boss monster very deep down, that might feel like an ‘ending’ if the party wants to ‘finish’ the dungeon. Not something that will ‘burst out and destroy the world’, but something contained to the dungeon that a party could triumph over if they want a ‘final challenge’ sort of feeling. But one that’s optional, a challenge they can take up if they want to, not a prerequisite for getting out of the dungeon or completing a large goal, but just a challenge that exists if they want to take it on.

Because, and I do agree, a lot of the problem with exploring in D&D is not necessarily that there’s no mechanical support for it, in terms of things like skills, etc, but because there’s no reward for it, and in terms of structured adventures, there’s often either narrative or mechanical punishment for it (running out of time on the baddie, or running into something too lethal for your party to handle with no option to nope out). A megadungeon as a concept is a cool environment where exploration is the whole point, and the only point, and if you take care not to put an external pressure on it (‘kill the lich or else’), then then party has time to poke around and decide what they want to see and what risks they want to take (or nope out of). Especially in something so big that there’s no real chance of finishing it, so there’s no ‘100% completion’ pressure, just a big buffet of options for people to pick and choose from.  

(There are so many things in 5e that would be excellent for an exploration game, especially in terms of spells and magic items, but because combat is so much the driving force of the standard mode of play, people are reluctant to ‘waste’ spells known/prepared and/or items attuned on things like Alarm or Water Walk or Purify Food & Drink or non-combat items like Candles of the Deep or Foldable Boats or Slippers of Spider Climbing when those slots could be used for combat spells/items instead. But if exploration gets you XP, and if you can nope out of combat as required because there’s no massive stakes/story riding on it, then you’ve got more room for these things).

There’s also an in-depth discussion on ‘game balance’ and CR, and why megadungeons might not necessarily require them, for the simple fact that everything in the dungeon is optional and not required to forward the story/plot, so you can try challenges way above your level if you’re feeling frisky that day, and just nope out and go a different way if it starts really not working for you. Which I feel is a fun point.

There is a point that this is a specific mode of play and not meant to be the point of the game in general. It’s specifically for people (like me) who want exploration as its own point and reward, without needing a quest or storyline attached, and for whom combat is an element/hazard/complication but not the point. But. If you are specifically doing a MEGADUNGEON, it’s an interesting look at things to consider and what people might want out of a massive self-contained dungeon that’s going to be the whole point of the campaign in and of itself.  

Where he loses me is when the discussion moves to how to prevent the '15 Minute Adventuring Day', where people go in, do a room or two, and then go back out to rest and heal and resupply, instead of staying in the dungeon to keep exploring. And for some reason allowing healing is bad for this? If you want them to stay in the dungeon, how is it bad to let them heal in the dungeon? Set up factions to trade with and potential base camp locations in the dungeon to let them heal and resupply and set up safe areas so that they can stay in there potentially infinitely? Though it’s possible that I missed something about his point there.

But yeah. I love the idea of megadungeons, vast areas to explore just because they’re there, and I love the idea of game modes with all the cool abilities and spells and powers of D&D BUT where the thing that’s rewarded is exploration and interacting with the environment rather than combat.

(There’s also … I think this also reminds me of the story arc vs episodic discussion regarding TV, where I genuinely like episodic series equally to story-line driven ones, and I think that in games it also works, where there’s a BIG SETTING and the point is to go out and have episodic adventures in it. A loose sandbox like a megadungeon where there’s no plot, you’re just exploring and seeing what you encounter day to day (and possibly developing plots as you interact with individual areas/factions and then connect them to other ones) is also an excellent way to play a game).

Anyway. Forgive the sidebar ramble.

[kunigamiau]

“ harvey, nobody knows what I see. ”

ryusei shidou x reader

highschool au.

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⋆˚꩜｡⟢ ˎˊ˗

— ❤︎ —

—

you were never a fan of moving away, far too attached to every house you had the chance of living in, to the memories it brought and most importantly to the people you met. that’s what you learned to realise each time you moved away, you weren’t stupid, even as a child you had realised your weaknesses and made sure to never let yourself truly go because everything was temporary.

at least it was until you met him. the blonde haired peculiar boy at the school you were attending. In your younger years you wanted nothing to do with him. you were opposites after all. He was loud, eccentric and boisterous, you were quiet, reserved and contemplate. well until you had no choice but to.

The first interaction between you was when you were peacefully trying to read your book on the bleachers on a warm summer day, basking in the soft rays of the sun. it was going well until- you promptly woke up with a ball straight to your face, knocking the air out of you as you slightly jerked back. The gasps around you made it all the more embarrassing, your friends were nowhere around you and hearing everyone else either holding back laughs while others were still shockingly watching could do nothing but make you want to crawl inside a hole and never come back out. and that was when he approached you, it was silly but the one thing you remember is how he tripped running over to the bleachers.

“ Shoot, I am sorry ? ” The way his tone was unsure made you look at him with a bewildered but honestly speaking, amused look. After a few more seconds of the seemingly on going staring contest you had going on with him you couldn’t help but let your lips curve upright, a giggle erupting from your mouth, making the equally bewildered boy look at you in a daze, not sure of what to do. let’s just say in that moment two souls tied to one another, because from that day on you were inseparable.

school bleacher conversations were your thing now, whether it would be that you came to watch him practice or you would spend time together revising after school, enjoying the summer time, it was a habit that neither of you denied once it started. bike rides home were idle. you watched the sunset on the back of ryusei’s bike as he talked your ear off about another one of his shenanigans or arguments he had at his football practice despite you being there; he deemed it necessary that you understood his side of the story so those ‘wannabe pretty boys’ as he calls them, don’t try to sweep you off your feet by painting him out to be the bad guy one of these days. to which you would just roll your eyes at and continue listening to him with no sign of refusal.

time with shidou passed faster than you imagined, to the point where you only realised how bad your resolve had broken when your parents gave you the impending news.

moving away. again. except this time you weren’t as neutral. you had finally met someone you wanted to have around, someone who made your life better even without knowing. so like any other naive child you had straight up denied. you didn’t want to move, you wouldn’t move ( it didn’t work. ) So in your antsy frenzy, that night you had made sure to give something to your best friend that wouldn’t let him ever forget about you.

“ What's that ? ” the blonde asked with a curious glint in his eyes as he cotninued to snack on the sweet poki sticks. you replied by looking down, giving him the news. to which he took better than you expected, except from the pout adorning his face now. "Dumbass, why were you nervous to tell me ? ” you simply looked at him huffing “ well ryu’ you don’t exactly- ” but you don’t get to finish your sentence as he pats your head suddenly, “ and why would you think.. I would forget you.” he mumbles the last part more quietly, looking down at his lap with a conflicted look. hearing that, you couldn’t help the smile painting your face as you took his hand putting the morganite, handmade bracelet into his palm. the boy simply looks down at the sudden coldness he felt before immediately doubling down analysing the bracelet. “ I made it ! ” you exclaim proudly, showing off your wrist which had a matching one on. seeing that, he couldn’t help the blush coat his cheeks as he immediately put it on himself. “ ryu.. are your cheeks red right now ? “ you say in a teasing tone that easily gets shut down by him pulling you in a headlock ruffling your hair to which you can only squeal at, giggling as silly bickering erupts from both of your mouths.

That was a very long time ago, now at the prime age of seventeen you’re preparing for yet another new high school, in your third year. it sucked that you had to move in your final year but you reminded yourself that it isn’t something you hadn’t grown accustomed to. In the time of growing up you had met, adored and left a lot of people, yet the one that stuck to you the most was your one and only childhood best friend. moving in and out of Japan had you going insane, and as much as you wanted to keep in contact with everyone, you couldn’t manage it and gave up early on. shidou being no exception of that, which you greatly regretted. Each step you took on the strangely empty Tokyo streets towards your brand new school had you feeling nervous, it was like first grade all over again, every single time. you just couldn’t help the nervous feeling in your heart, especially since you are a third year at a new school, which is not a bad thing, just rare and attention inducing. you dreaded how the day would unfold immediately as you see the huge gates with the name in bold blue writing.

to your surprise your classes were not half as bad as you thought they would, homeroom was simple. you were glad third years here weren’t as curious and judgemental as you imagined. As you walked in, you were immediately greeted by a teacher who led you to the office. There you met your classmate and the student council president, Isagi Yoichi, who was nice enough to take you to your shared homeroom and even let you meet his friends later on after introducing yourself to the new class. now you were currently facing a predicament, due to you starting in the second week; you weren’t able to pick a club so now you, isagi, his best friends bachira, kurona and hiori whom were all your classmates were trying to figure out what club you could join. since it is mandatory. “ What if she joins as our manager ? I mean we don’t have one and it wouldn’t hurt. ” hiori says, trying to improve the defeated mood of the group. “ manager ? “ You say curiously, eyes focused on him, turning to bachira as he exclaims happily “ yea ! we’re all in the football team, isn’t that super duper fun !? ”

he says while putting his arms around the three other boys who just groan in response to his hyper behaviour. "You know what ? That doesn’t sound all too bad. “ you say with a hum as you noted down ‘football team manager’ on your notepad as one of your ideas. “ That's great ! then you can just come now since practice is about to end for the others ! ” yet again, bachira shouts joyfully, this time around getting up and joining your side immediately pulling you up to which you yelp to the sudden force as he just continues giggling pulling you over, leaving the other three boys just looking at each other before sighing and following along you and bachira. It seemed like a great idea before, amazing even but as you’re standing in front of the gym which was booming with noise you could only mentally curse for agreeing, crowds were not your thing; yet these days it’s all you’re a part of. “ It's fine ! Our team isn’t bad ! Even if some people are a bit questionable, they’re alright. “ isagi says, trying to reassure you despite only sparking your nerves more. as you take a step forward towards the door having mentally prepared yourself you immediately open the door while speaking to the four boys,

“ you’re right ! what could go so wrong aha. "

But as if the universe was watching you, ready to prove you wrong and you opened the door a ball is immediately in contact with your face. hard. groaning at the impact you immediately shut your eyes gripping your nose which you were sure was bleeding with how painful the hit felt ( it was not ! ). gasps immediately surround you as you are approached by isagi and bachira from behind you along with kurona and hiori who just look concerned. but before they can even speak, sudden steps approach you, slightly leaning down to your height,

“ Shoot, are ya’ okay ? ” and as if the interaction couldn’t get any weirder a sense of deja vu takes over you as you immediately look at the figure facing you with wide eyes. “ ryu? ” you mumble, shock taking over your senses as the pain you had just faced dilated. you notice his blonde spiky hair, with hot pink tips adorning it, the sharp eyeliner that complimented him even more, along with his freakish height, he had always been taller than you but now the difference seemed even more dramatic. shidou stares at you for a little while longer before finally putting the pieces together and calling out to you, “ n/n ? ” he mumbles, and it truly felt like the world had reduced to only you two as you stare into his eyes with a soft look, tears brimming slightly in your orbs as he immediately takes a hold of your shoulders hugging you tightly. you immediately hug him back, ignoring the awkward atmosphere that was created by your emotional reunion. you didn’t care. what matters most is you had met your best friend all over again, and you weren’t going to let him go again. The other guys could only stare in slight amusement and shock, seeing shidou’s usual fiery, rude, and unpredictable persona immediately crumble down with you was surely a sight to behold.

And with a promise of a hangout date, you were sent back out as the boys were told to go change. to which you were immediately bombarded with questions from your new classmates and few members of the team, “ so you and shidou are dating ? ” bachira asks innocently for the nth time. “ no you idiot," she clearly said that her and antenna freak were childhood best friends. If you had listened-” the two toned hair only booped the black haired male whom you had learnt his name was itoshi rin who only irked at bachira’s touch immediately chasing after him as they ran away from the rest of the group. “ Gotts to say.. you and Shidou are an interesting match. ” hiori says, his accent seeping through slightly, which you found endearing. “ Tell me about it. “ you reply with a sigh, a lazy smile playing on your lips

“ so, that’s y/n huh ? " the red head spoke up to the blonde as he was putting his jacket on. shidou could only mumble a ‘yes’ followed by a nod, looking down at the bracelet on his wrist. "She seems nice enough, treat her well. " sae adds with an amused smirk on his face. The blonde would be on cloud nine at the interaction with the male right now, however he could only smile before replying in the same soft-spoken tone he had welcomed you with.

"Of course I will. ”

𓏵˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

— songs I associated with this •.• !

- harvey, her’s

- over the moon, the marías

- impacto, enjambre

- you might be sleeping, clairo + jakob

- asa, the circus

- sesame syrup, cigarettes after sex

- every summertime - niki

[kittynugg]

i wrote some more stangst. forgst, if you will

prev stangst

words: 1,737 (see what i did there.)

p.s: reblogs are appreciated, and do not tag as ship. all interactions are platonic. also this one is gonna be a lot worse than the last one i speedran it im so so sorry i'll probably revisit this later

Ford glanced down to the dimensional translator on his wrist. Gifted to him by a group of refugees before he escaped the nightmare realm, it was.. Something. He was still figuring out half of the features, but he’d deduced that it worked as a translator, watch (counting the days since it happened was fun. Thirty-two days), and a wallet holding a currency called “credits”. Luckily for him, all the places he’d been to seemed to take them.

The entire multiverse had a universal currency except for Home. He’d be damned.

In front of him stood a large, futuristic building with a holographic sign that read, “HUMAN HOTEL”. With smaller text saying, “The authentic Earth experience!” Ford doubted that. Regardless, it was the first hotel he’d seen that didn’t look.. bad. But with all good things came caveats. Because the hotel was not bad, he could not afford it.

Did he want food, or shelter?

He looked up at the sky, stars and distant dimensions twinkling above him in a display that was beautiful for the first few days he’d spent in this hellscape, and sighed. It wasn’t beautiful anymore. He missed when it was beautiful.

It’d been a while since he’d slept. Running on empty like this was a horrible idea.

Food for that day had been taken care of– he ate at a restaurant just down the street (well, he’d heard people call them “systems”, but he stuck to calling them streets for familiarity). But if he spent money on a hotel he wouldn’t eat later. But if he spent money on food he’d have to either stay awake even longer than he already had or find somewhere else to sleep. Somewhere he’d be much more vulnerable than a hotel room.

..Maybe he just wanted to sleep in a bed. Fine. Fine! He’d admit! It’d been a while!

Look at him. He had an education and he was trying to decide between sleeping or eating. It just felt like “bad or worse”! This was.. Frankly, this was bullshit. What did he do to deserve this!? 

…

He didn’t get it. 

A deep breath was taken, and he steeled himself. With every problem came a solution. And he was going to find it. 

Ideas already ran through his mind– what if he.. Tried to charm the receptionist?

He walked up to the receptionist with a completely blank expression. “I like your face hole!” chirped Ford in a too-loud voice, and the receptionist screamed and clocked him in the head with a tape dispenser.

Right, he was terrible with people. 

Perhaps he could break in.

Ford cackled maniacally as he pushed down the plunger of a comically-large detonator, and the wall blew up in a spray of debris. About five seconds later the police showed up and he had a different place to stay the night– wherever they took criminals in the multiverse.

No, and why was that fantasy so cartoonish?

As he denied several more plans, he decided that nothing would work. Then he’d just.. Go a little longer without sleep, that was fine. That was great, even! So great that he didn’t want to look at that sign anymore, or the building!

Two.. people? Walked past him, and a snippet of their conversation registered in his mind. “Yeah, so, I’m just gonna say it. I was totally lying.” “Ooh, you are just a bitch!”

Curiosity about whatever drama they were in aside, maybe lying wasn’t a bad idea.. Yes! That was it! But what lie to tell? His eyes darted around.

There was no sign of a real human in the area, he noted as he side-eyed an m-shaped person walking past. Hopefully he never found what dimension that was from. No humans in a place made to be human like. That was exploitable. 

Like second nature (he assumed it was all the liars in his family) he spun what he could only hope was a believable story, took a breath, put on his “social interaction” face, and walked up to the entrance. He fixed his coat and smoothed out his hair.

“You gotta look like you belong,” he remembered him saying in high school. The day he shoplifted beer from a gas station. “Nobody’ll give you shit if you ARE the shit, y’see?”

Maybe he could do something good for once instead of ruining Ford’s life. Again. 

Ford pushed the door open with that idle smile he trained himself to keep on around people, looking around the room. It looked.. Just like a hotel back on Earth, he noted in spite of the striking appearance it had outside, adjusting his translator until the person at the desk made sense.

“Khoor, zho- pbzr gb gur- human hotel! How can I help you?” They leaned against the counter, a nametag pinned to their shirt reading.. Symbols he didn’t care to translate at the moment. 

In spite of his exhaustion, he greeted them with a small wave. “Hello! I was sent from Earth to judge the validity of this establishment’s claims.” He did air-quotes with his fingers (nobody seemed to mind that he had six) as he recited, “‘The authentic Earth experience’-- we have laws against false advertising.”

The receptionist blinked all four eyes at him, then narrowed them with concern. “Oh.. I see.” They nodded, a three-fingered hand raising to scratch at their chin. 

“It seems to me like the lobby is very authentic, but I’ll need to perform a thorough examination.” He made a show of looking around, appraising the interior decoration. Then his eyes darted to the room keys hanging on the wall behind the desk. Which rooms weren’t booked.. A random one was picked and he said, “room 104 is already reserved for me,” and then prayed.

Ford kicked the door to room 104 open with a thud, spinning the key on his finger with a triumphant laugh. Then he cleared his throat and politely closed the door behind him because he wasn’t an animal and there were other people here and he should be considerate. 

The key was lazily abandoned on the bedside table, and Ford faceplanted into the pillow. He didn’t even take off his shoes. That was how tired he was. Now that he’d hoodwinked his way into shelter, he could afford to eat something tomorrow. Perfect! And all it took was..

He sighed.

His advice. He couldn’t believe he’d listen to him after everything. No, he couldn’t believe that it worked! He couldn’t believe he stooped to his level, and was rewarded for it with a warm hotel room! For doing nothing! 

..It was a damn comfortable bed, though. 

“So what if I’m no better than him?” He asked himself. “Maybe.. Maybe he was onto something. Just because he had a vision doesn’t mean he’s in the right.”

Rolling onto his back, he stared at the ceiling.

“What am I if not a conman just like him and Dad..?” He dragged a hand down his face. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that the restaurant he’d eaten at earlier was called “Tom’s Existential Bites”, why would he eat at– and the slogan, “Food so good you’ll wonder what the point is if we’re all gonna die in the end”!? 

Shaking his head, he continued his little soliloquy. “What would he say about it? ..He’d probably encourage it.” A chuckle escaped him despite himself. He mumbled in his impression of Stan, “stealing’s fun, too, you should try it. Can’t afford to BUY anything.”

Scoffing, he silently questioned what prompted Stan to say that. “You’re the one who did this, if I were Home I’d be doing perfectly fine.”

“You’re not, though,” he felt deranged for responding to himself like this. But.. Stan’s voice was irritatingly soothing in a way. The first human beside his mother who made him feel human and the last human voice he’d ever hear beside his own. “And you’d still have to deal with–”

“Him.” This was devolving fast, that interruption came too naturally. He was too used to acting out non-player characters in Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons. Oh, fuck.

Ahem, ‘Stan’ replied, “yeah. Him. Never told me who ‘him’ is, by the way.” 

Familiarity was a thing humans clung to for dear life. That’s all this was. The desire for familiarity. This was his humanity shining through in a place where humans didn’t exist.

“I.. couldn’t tell you. But he’s hurt me.” A hand reflexively brushed underneath his right eye. “..Severely.”

“I’ll kill him. I swear, Ford. You know I’d do that for you, right?” 

He bit his lip, unsure if the statement was true. He wasn’t sure of anything. “Right. He’s much stronger than you think, though, he would just..” His chest tightened, and he hated it. This shouldn’t affect him. 

Alas, the thought of what Bill did to him– the thought of that happening to Stan– made his eyes sting with tears. “The shit he did to me.. I can only hope he’s not back Home right now, playing the same games with you.” He blinked, and a single tear rolled down his right eye.

“Don’t–” he took in a shaky breath. “Don’t cry. You’re better than this.” He pathetically cupped his own cheek to wipe away the tear, half-pretending it was Stan. “I’m not gonna fall for his shit, okay? Worry about yourself right now, get some rest.”

Ford’s brows furrowed, and he shook his head. “I wanted to,” he muttered, “but I don’t think I can.” He ran a hand down his face. “This must be how I made you feel. Trapped, afraid..”

“Hey, don’t be like that, you..” he trailed off, shaking his head. This was pointless. The quicker he rested up, the quicker he could get back to his mission, the quicker he could defeat Bill and live. The quicker he could fucking live.

He rolled over, not without a final plea under his breath. “..Please, Stanley.” A beat of silence passed. “Just please be okay.”

Stan was resourceful. That was how he survived after he got him kicked out. Stan would be fine.

He had to be.

“Love you, bro,” he said in Stan’s voice to himself. Why would Stan love him after everything?

He didn’t know, but he replied, “I love you too, Stanley.” The next words escaped him almost on instinct as he shut his eyes and already found himself drifting off. “..I’m sorry for everything.”

[marwyn]

Something I find very interesting how the people who understand f&b is painting several female characters in a bad light because they didn't conform to societal expectations for women in Westeros or simply wanted power and then in the same breath talk about how Maegor is a blood magic baby and Visenya was a evil sorceress. Let's use our brains now.

I do like Visenya and Maegor’s Morgause and Mordred slay but agree that things are probably not as simplistic as they seem. I’m always caught on the tension between

Even those who loved her best found Visenya stern, serious, unforgiving;

and

When the regent of the Vale rushed out to confront her, with a dozen guards at her back, she found Visenya with Ronnel Arryn seated on her knee, staring at the dragon, wonder-struck. ‘Mother, can I go flying with the lady?’ the boy king asked. No threats were spoken, no angry words exchanged. The two queens smiled at one another and exchanged courtesies instead.

You could easily interpret the latter as a veiled threat and/or good politicking, but it’s interesting that “stern, serious” Visenya was able and willing to smile and at least convincingly pretend to be personable—can you imagine Stannis doing that? Perhaps the difference is a gendered one, but Visenya did have more leeway than the average Westerosi noblewoman given that she rode a dragon, was able to train with a sword alongside her brother, and later sat the Iron Throne during his absences from King’s Landing:

Save perhaps for Good Queen Alysanne, the wife of King Jaehaerys I, no other queen in the history of the Seven Kingdoms ever exercised as much influence over policy as the Dragon’s sisters. It was the king’s custom to bring one of his queens with him wherever he traveled, whilst the other remained at Dragonstone or King’s Landing, oft as not seated on the Iron Throne, ruling on whatever matters came before her.

As with several other historical characters who have strong parallels to ones in the present, I find it interesting to see what light the latter might potentially shed on the former. Rhaegar obviously expected his third child to be a Visenya figure, and despite one key difference Jon does fulfill the role really well. I think his personality helps to explain some of the contradictions present in the descriptions of Visenya’s in that he’s somewhat chameleonic and reveals a lot of kindness and levity in his interactions with characters like Arya but appears completely different to those whom he doesn’t like and/or don’t know him well, see Theon and young Alys Karstark:

The bastard was a sullen boy, quick to sense a slight, jealous of Theon’s high birth and Robb’s regard for him.

Additionally, the batch of descriptions GRRM gave to an artist in the early 2000s which includes the one of Rhaenyra people use to “prove” she’s not feminine enough in the show also includes this:

Rhaenys is the flirt, Visenya the seductress. Although they share their brother Aegon between them, they compete for him too, each in her own way....

While neither description has made it into any published books, I bet the same people who use the Rhaenyra one to complain about HOTD will claim the show about the Conquest is OOC if it includes any hint of rivalry between the two women. Not that I necessarily want the show to do this as it could easily skew kind of cliché, but regardless this rivalry between siblings does evoke Robb and Jon, particularly in that Aegon is not just a love interest for the sisters but a proxy to power.

Anyway, on Maegor’s conception—it’s true that accusations of evil sorcery can be misogynistic calumnies, see Rohanne Webber, but magic is real and it was probably much more powerful in Visenya’s time when the dragons were alive than it was during the Dunk & Egg era when Bloodraven likely managed to convincingly glamor himself as a hedge knight, and certain biographical details of Maegor’s do seem a bit suspect so I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if those who “said that [Visenya] played with poisons and dabbled in dark sorceries” are at least somewhat correct and Visenya did…blood magic IVF or something, and/or she and Tyanna raised Maegor from the dead after his fight with the Faith Militant. I really do wonder how the former is supposed to have worked, though—is the consensus that Visenya sacrificed someone in order to conceive a son à la “only death can pay for life” or is there an ethical way to do magic IVF? Lmao

[serickswrites]

I'd Bleed Out for You

Warnings: gun, gunshot, gunshot wound, blood, bleeding out, self sacrifice, unclear character status

Caretaker, with great horror, realized they had allowed themself to get pinned during the course of the battle. They had pushed too far forward trying to keep up with the weapon, Whumpee, that they had left the rest of the battalion behind. There was at least two, if not three, enemies between Caretaker and their allies. And Whumpee was nowhere to be found.

Caretaker cursed as they crouched lower. They cursed themself for not paying attention. They cursed their enemy for being so powerful. And most of all, they cursed Whumpee, the strange weapon they had been assigned to be the keeper for. Whumpee wasn't the first weapon that Caretaker had been assigned to, but they were the strangest. They only spoke when ordered to. If they weren't being used in battle, they remained in their quarters, refusing to interact with anyone, including other weapons. Caretaker didn't mind as much. It made their job easier.

Weapons were usually short lived because of the nature of missions they went on. Getting attached to their charge was painful because weapons invariably died. Whumpee was the longest living weapon, or so Caretaker had been told. They had outlived all of the other weapons trained with them. And they had outlasted two keepers. Strange weapon indeed.

And now they were going to die because of the strange weapon.

"I told you to stay with the others," Whumpee growled as they suddenly appeared next to Caretaker. Their face was pale, features drawn tight with pain. "What are you doing here?"

Caretaker stared open mouthed at Whumpee. This was the most Whumpee had ever said to them without being ordered to speak. "I--"

"Get down," Whumpee ordered as they raised their shaking hand, aiming the gun at something Caretaker couldn't see.

Gunfire erupted around Caretaker. They cried out as they ducked low. Whumpee threw their body over Caretaker's as they continued to fire their weapon. Caretaker trembled beneath Whumpee's heavy body. They were going to die. This was all Whumpee's fault. Whumpee flinched twice, but didn't say anything. They continued to fire their weapon.

Suddenly the gunfire stopped. Whumpee, without stopping, rose, pulling Caretaker along behind them. "Let's get you back to safety."

"I'm not supposed to leave you. What if you're injured?" Caretaker didn't really want to range behind enemy lines. But their orders were clear: to take care of Whumpee no matter the cost.

"Too late for that," Whumpee said without stopping.

"Where are you hurt?" Caretaker's mouth went dry as they realized they were covered in blood. And none of it was their own.

"Doesn't matter," Whumpee said softly. "Duck!"

Caretaker didn't get a chance to crouch low as Whumpee shoved them to the ground, shielding Caretaker's body with their own. "Fuck!" Caretaker shouted over the gunfire. They were going to die.

"I....I neeeeed yourrrrr g-g-g-gun." Whumpee's words were slurred, their voice weak.

"Where's yours?" Caretaker tried to reach the gun that was pinned beneath them.

"Empty." Whumpee took the gun from Caretaker. Caretaker could see Whumpee's hands tremble as they gripped the gun. They sighed before sitting up, their face pinching tighter with pain. "B-B-B-Battallllllllllionnnn issssss j-j-j-just behi-hi-hi-hinddd. R-R-R-R-Runnnnn when......when I sssssay."

"What about you?" Caretaker stared up at the weapon's face. Their face was more pale than before. Just how bad was their injury?

"I.....I....I.....willllll b-b-b-be bbbbbbbbe-h'dddddd."

Before Caretaker could protest, Whumpee fired their weapon twice before saying, "Runnnnnnnnnn."

Caretaker didn't hesitate. They jumped up and began to sprint towards where they thought the battalion would be. Caretaker quickly realized their error as they sounds of gunfire grew louder. They were going to die. And this time, it wasn't Whumpee's fault.

A heavy body slammed into them, arms wrapping around them tightly. "RRRRRRunnnnnn." Whumpee's breath was hot on their ear. Whumpee positioned Caretaker in front of them and shoved Caretaker forward. Caretaker ran with Whumpee, allowing themself to be pushed in the correct direction, trusting that Whumpee knew where the two of them needed to go.

"Thank God," Caretaker heard one of their squad mates shout. "Lay covering fire!"

Gunfire erupted around Caretaker and Whumpee. But soon, the answering gunfire that had been hot on their heels faded. Caretaker sighed with relief as they darted behind some cover, Whumpee staggering along with them.

"Are you ok?"

"Are you injured?"

"How far did you go?"

"Did you see what weaponry they had?"

A chorus of voices greeted Caretaker. So many people were talking. So many people wanted answers. Caretaker panted, trying to get their bearings. They had nearly died. And the person they were responsible for caring for saved them.

Caretaker glanced over at Whumpee, who stood panting next to them. Whumpee gave Caretaker a small smile and a nod. "K?" was all Whumpee managed to say.

"I'm ok, thank you," Caretaker said. They meant it. They were very grateful to Whumpee.

"G'd," Whumpee sighed as they collapsed to their knees.

"GET MORE MEDICS!" Someone shouted as Caretaker grabbed onto Whumpee's shoulders, trying to slow their fall. Whumpee sagged bonelessly to the ground, completely unconscious.

"Whumpee, Whumpee!" Caretaker shouted as they tapped the weapon's cheek. "Wake up, Whumpee!" Caretaker rolled Whumpee onto their back. It was only then that Caretaker could see the extent of Whumpee's injuries. Caretaker's mouth went dry as they counted five bullet wounds on Whumpee's body. How many had they gotten protecting Caretaker?

"Come on, Whumpee. Hold on. You can hang in there. You can't die now." Caretaker said as they pressed on the most heavily bleeding bullet wound. "You can't die now. You're the longest living weapon. Come on, Whumpee."

Caretaker could only hope that the other medics had the tools they needed to keep Whumpee alive. They could only hope that the other medics would arrive in time. They could only hope that Whumpee would live so they could thank Whumpee for saving their life. Whumpee was dying and it was Caretaker's fault.

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@pepeniascat

[charmallows]

tender loving care ❤

[shannonsketches]

Why is the anime so weird, it's not even the same series dude?? It's like,

Anime:

GOKU: I have a great idea to bring peace to the universe, and my leadership and compassion alone will unite us all. I have No Flaws and am A True Relatable Everyman :)

VEGETA: NO! I AM THE BEST AND I WILL CAUSE PROBLEMS UNTIL I AM RECOGNIZED AS SUCH!!!!

Manga:

GOKU: Vegeta what's cornmeal made of? I know it's what the corn eats, but what's it made of? VEGETA: Hey Kakarot let's play the quiet game until one of us dies.

[moeblob]

OC again gomen ... (her name is Yuma)

[lockandkeyblade]

Just for you I’ll make it happen. Eventually.

ignoring that KH3 has a really bad habit of making all these much more trained people look pathetic in contrast to the protagonist, yeah, that bond is poignant. Ventus and Roxas are his shadows, Vanitas and Xion are theirs. I’d really hate to see what would happen if those two also got a shadow because those two are bad enough as it is.

They don’t know each other and yet they have known each other literally Sora’s entire life. Like, god what would those interactions be like? The gang sits down for lunch and Ventus makes Sora’s drink exactly how he likes it, Sora passes over the food Ven wants before he even asks for it, their motions are so bluntly paralleled that everyone just winds up staring quietly. Just like we will never know the entire cast will never know which did what, it’s the ultimate chicken and egg situation except you can’t even tell which one of them is the chicken and which one is the egg.

Sora: why do you have my face?!

Vanitas, fully aware he was born without one: Maybe you have my face ever think about that?

*LOUDLY VIBRATES IN YOUR INBOX* Sora McKingdom Hearts HAS NEVER BEEN OKAY help me I didn't expect to wake up to these feelings

HELLO its so rare so have someone in my inbox that isn't teddie i did a double take

do you ever think about how riku never apologized for calling sora a delivery boy. I actually think about it a lot. because if riku did anything in KH1 that truly hurt sora on a deep level I think it was what happened at the beginning of hollow bastion. Like it ties into this wider thing I think where by the time we hit KH3 sora's in this place where riku and kairi's cheerful friendly ribbing is clearly hurting his feelings

riku's a keyblade master and kairi's getting specialized training but sora is still on his own. even as sora heralds in a new era of keyblade wielders and fills out the ranks of living wielders, nobody's there to teach sora like that. nobody's there to support him . donald and goofy rely on him and so do all the people he needs to save and riku's already way ahead of him...

like, no wonder he thinks he's nothing without his friends. i would too goddamn

[sorrinslays]

Gepard's role in the story

(crack theory territory)

So, I'm sure I'm not the only one that noticed, but Gepard is extremely underused in the story, which is such a shame?

Like, I counted the times we see him in the main story and it's disappointing. We (Astrall Express Crew) see him at the start after Sampo ditches us, where he takes us to Cocolia and all, then we see him again at the end of the story when he's trying to stop us because he believes we are trying to harm the Supreme guardian and he fights us and his Sister and that's it. We don't see him again.

Then, when Topaz comes to Jarillo VI he is there for two scenes again. One where he tries to stop Topaz and gets ambushed and one at the end where he stops a woman from getting crushed to death.

Even in 'his' (Serval's) companion quest, he takes the backseat. Sure, the story was about Serval and her getting over Cocolia and Gepard's role was him just trying to show Serval that she is still needed in Belobog, but honestly they could've done more with him.

I think people forget that he doesn't know the truth of what really happened to Cocolia? (as far as I'm aware at least). Can you imagine if he learned the truth? The mental breakdown that he'll experience?

This man has been serving her for the better part of a decade. He was spoon-fed propaganda like that Underworlders are 'wild' (an item description mentions that he had to fight 'wild Underworlders' I'm pretty sure) and blindly following the Supreme Guardian's orders for years. How is he supposed to react when he learns that those 'necessary sacrifices' of his fellow guards was just an excuse to get rid of more Belobogians for the 'dream' the Stellaron promised Cocolia.

Don't forget, he knew those people. They were friends, comrades, people he saw everyday. And all of them were dying on the daily and he was powerless to do anything.

And when he learns the truth, how is he gonna react to Bronya's decision to cover it up? Were the deaths of his friends in vain? Do their families not deserve to know the truth as to why their loved ones died? How much blood does the late Supreme Guardian have on her hands? How much of it has transferred to Bronya? How much blood does Gepard have on his hands because he never questioned his orders?

Point is, he is so important to Belobog, he's the Goddamn Captain of the only military service they have there, obviously he is needed! So why underuse him so much?

Well, this is where we move more into theory territory. I think it ties in with a future Belobog quest that Black Swan's companion quest hinted at (at the end during Sampo's and Sparkle's conversation).

Since Gepard has been on the backburner, we have yet to see Sampo and Gepard interacting and the fact Sampo still doesn't have a companion quest even though he is an important lore character I think all of that will happen in the future.

I think it would work best as a quest without the Astral Express Crew, like the new POV mechanic or the cut aways used in the Loufu for Dan Heng. We could play as Gepard or Sampo as they are forced to work together for whatever reason.

We could play as Gepard as something big happens in the restricted zone (AKA the catastrophe Sparkle teased Sampo about). Maybe he gets informed about it (maybe we get a new 4* character that's a guard that informs Gepard) and when he makes it there, Sampo is already here, as if expecting it.

Maybe Bronya calls Gepard to her office after an anonymous tip was sent to her warning the Silvermane Guards of a catastrophe coming to Belobog. Maybe he is tasked with finding who sent the note as well as prepering for said catastrophe, which is how he runs into Sampo, having the two working together.

Maybe we play as Sampo, leaving clues for the Silvermane guards until we reveal ourselves, getting that 5* version. Maybe we are the one pushing the puzzle pieces so they fit on their own or maybe all through the quest we keep cutting back to a game of chess between Aha and Sampo, showing the unpredictable nature of the catastrophe as it was orchestrated by Aha just for shits and giggles.

Either way, this works great as a pathway to seeing:

a) the dynamic between Sampo (arguably the most mysterious character to come from Belobog) and Gepard (resident bbg)

b) 5* Sampo

c) (and this is mostly me playing around with concepts) Gepard becoming an emanator, becoming the first on screen character to be turned into an emanator

d) a great end to Sampo's character arc by becoming a part of Belobog (maybe he even becomes part of the Silvermanes as a detective)

e) more Geppie screen time and exploration of his character

(a few extra ramblings from my demented as a treat)

I think it's criminal that Gepard doesn't have his own companion quest and he's practically shoved in his sister's, and considering that Sampo doesn't have his own......................

I think it would be fair to have these two in a companion quest of their own.

I'm thinking of a quest where Sampo becomes a Silvermane guard (a detective to be more precise) and Gepard learns the truth about Cocolia.

I can imagine that during some investigation that Gepard is having a hard time with due to the Underworlders not trusting the Silvermane guards, he is forced to seek Sampo's help. So through Natasha, he gets ahold of Sampo and the two work together where Gepard, through investing a shady group learns what actually happened to Cocolia as well as all the lies he's been getting spooned-fed for years.

One mental breakdown and emotional conversation between the two later, they catch the criminals and Gepard takes it upon himself to make Sampo part of the Silvermane guards because of how helpful he's actually been recently (main story + new quest with the catastrophe + the companion quest + helping the Underworld in general).

The companion quest ends with Sampo becoming a detective (Heizou from Genshin Impact style) where he wants to prevent crimes from happening before they even committed. His reason being 'criminal to detective is pretty stereotypical and Aha might blow up the planet' so he challenges himself to stop crime before it's committed to keep Aha entertained enough that they don't blow up the planet but uninterested enough that they don't actively observe.

I think it would be a great end to both character arcs.

Gepard gets more screentime and learns to question orders (it'd be nice to see his friendship with Bronya damaged, cause technically he is her uncle (Cocolia adopted Bronya while she was still in a relationship with Serval, making him an uncle)). Maybe he also reaches the conclusion of still being a Silvermane Guard for the sake of protecting the people but not actively following the Supreme Guardian because he lost faith in her.

Sampo gains a home and (gasp) love (platonic, romantic, doesn't matter). He'll feel like he belongs somewhere, a permanent home. Not matter if he leaves the planet for a day or a year, he'll still be welcome. His reputation improves and his skill is used for the betterment of Belobog. His mask is allowed to slip, even just a little.

[vaguely-concerned]

just going about my day idly contemplating how some of the ways hawke can interact with a romanced anders are not at all unlike how they interact with leandra (and a bit of carver too, especially with a purple hawke), and then thought about my hawke in the timeline where he romances anders and was hit straight in the face with 'was he ever actually in love, or was he just desperately trying to renegotiate with his mother's ghost in any way he could' and now i need to lie down. this is the power of dragon age 2