#player's guidebook

[bicsbec]

Player's Guidebook (ao3 link)

Kolivan had a roaring headache. He tried to blink it away, but that only made him dizzy.

“Representative?” Lurok’s stern voice came to him annoyed.

“You’re exceeding my patience, Lurok.”

“I come to you as a concerned citizen. Is this how you intend to keep your job? By neglecting it?”

“Your concern will be revised as soon as possible,” Kolivan gritted out. Lurok seemed smugly satisfied and exited Kolivan’s office at a near strut.

Kolivan shoved the report into a thick file labeled Lurok , where he kept all the poorly concealed militaristic agendas Lurok came up with. Sometimes Kolivan brought the file to Krolia so they could laugh at the increasingly ludicrous veils Lurok came up with over drinks. Krolia kept her own file.

Today, however, Lurok had pressed all the wrong buttons, starting with entering the office with a snarky reminder that it had been his “not too long ago” and ending with an almost blatant accusation of nepotism, Kolivan only having kept the position because of his entanglement with “the Altean bootlicker,” which was all kinds of rich —

Kolivan took a not so calming breath, dragging a hand along his face. The obnoxious beeping of a call came ringing, making his ears flatten. He answered without looking.

“ Darling! Wait—this a bad time? ”

Coran’s voice came like a wave of relief. A small smile pulled at Kolivan’s lips.

“Only a little,” he said, sitting up and opening his eyes.

“ I was just double checking for tonight’s plans. That is, if you’re feeling up for it. ”

Tonight. What had he agreed to again?

“ I certainly wouldn’t want to bore you ,” Coran said hurriedly. He was on the verge of rambling; he was insecure of whatever Kolivan had agreed to.

“You could never bore me, Coranic,” Kolivan said confidently. “Once I’ve finished here, I’ll head over. Don’t fuss so much.”

Coran chuckled, the blush on his cheeks a soft tinted blue through the call. “ Alright. I’ll see you soon, love. ”

“Yes.”

“ Bye-bye. ”

The call ended. He still couldn’t recall what he had agreed to, but he was sure he wouldn’t have done so if he hadn’t found it at least a little interesting. It didn’t really matter. Spending time with Coran always lightened his spirits, seldom a dull moment between them. 

He hurried through the paperwork on his desk, meeting requests and project authorizations and Blade deployments that needed special permissions. His temple throbbed, but he’d be home soon and that was somewhat soothing.

“Rest well, sir,” his secretary, Ubzir, said as Kolivan handed him the outgoing correspondence of the day. 

“I expect to, thank you,” Kolivan said with a half-smile.

It was odd, these courtesies. They were words that had no real use, no purpose other than well-wishing. They were foreign to the Galra tongue, still acclimating to their more recent role in history. It was clunky; it was nice.

* * *

He took a public shuttle to Altea, the thought alone of flying himself over being too exhausting. They dismounted at Pilar C, the closest to the Castle of Lions. The first time Kolivan had stepped foot on Altea, he’d first thought it was nothing short of a miracle. A planet that hadn’t been seen in millennia, had endured only the briefest period of Zarkon’s terror, brought back in a state of near intactness. Its allure wore off eventually, becoming just another on the list of places in need of help. Unremarkable until it wasn’t.

Coran changed all that. The Plaza, the Opera, the gardens, the ruins, the fields; places on a map. Places that now lit up in his head and made him smile. The word home came to mind, but he thought that had more to do with Coran than with Altea. He thought of Daibbazal as home too, but only when he knew Coran was waiting for him back at the apartment. 

Once reaching the castle, Gixu escorted him to Coran’s location, the rec room. It was dark, a group of people huddled around the display panel.

“Rep—uh, Kolivan just arrived, sir,” Gixu announced. Coran shot to his feet, Kolivan could almost feel the enthusiasm emanating from him. It was only a little too much after the day he’d had. Kolivan squared his shoulders and braced.

“Thank you very much, Gixu. You can join us, if you like,” Coran said, walking around the couch with the brightest smile.

“I’d hate to intrude, sir,” Gixu said rather anxiously. 

Coran waved the comment off. “Feel free, honestly. Or maybe next time.”

“Sure thing, sir,” Gixu tried for a smile. Kolivan felt like he should spare her from Coran’s attention.

“You’re free to go,” he said as pleasantly as he could. He wasn’t used to giving out gentle dismissals.

“Thank you,” Gixu said, in a breath that sounded like relief. She hurried out of the room faster than Kolivan expected. 

“Let the poor girl breathe,” he said, gathering Coran up in his arms. 

Coran chuckled, squeezing around Kolivan’s neck. “Sorry. It’s just—the more the merrier.”

“Right.”

“Right,” Coran grinned, melting Kolivan’s heart. He leaned up on the tips of his toes to reach Kolivan’s lips, smiling into the kiss. “Come on, then. Let’s get you settled.”

Huddled around the table were Curtis, Shiro, and Emi. The table itself was functioning as a map, the terrain’s relief projected onto the hologram. Kolivan wondered if he had walked into a Coalition meeting.

“Alright, here’s your interface,” Coran handed him a small screen. “Input your character information and this’ll keep track of your stats, like your health points, spell slots, skill proficiencies, and experience points.”

Kolivan tried to keep his face clear from confusion, trying to put together the missing pieces of information. He used to be a lot sharper, able to quickly find his footing in a foreign scenario. The years were gaining on him. 

“Right,” he said with a facade of confidence. Coran smiled brightly, clearly excited for Kolivan to be there. Kolivan willed himself to put everything together faster.

He sat down next to Emi, studying the map on the table. It wasn’t Coalition. There was no strategy in the position of the figures on the board. There was a die with more sides than Kolivan had ever seen and Curtis was leafing through a book, but Kolivan couldn’t make out the letters on the front.

The figures snagged in his mind. He’d seen them a thousand times maybe, but he couldn’t place them. 

His desk. His eyes had settled on one figure, Coran’s figure, for movements. Back when he’d been given the privilege to accompany Coran during his recovery. Kolivan’s eyes had been free to wander anywhere in that room, but they’d always settled on Coran and the little trinkets that surrounded him. 

The game was Monsters & Mana. He’d asked Coran about the figure once, since it was so different from the rest of his trinkets, and Coran went on a passionate rant about the game he'd played as a boy and even played once with the paladins and Allura. Kolivan had been a little enamored by the way Coran juggled talking and working with his hands or did his engineering calculations without seemingly fumbling either.

“Do you have your character ready?” Emi asked, somewhat timidly.

“Hm?”

He pointed at the screen in Kolivan’s hand. “Do you need help?”

Ever since The Incident, Emi had behaved more unnerved around Kolivan. Kolivan had never thought him to be a nervous man before that, so it wasn’t lost on him that Emi had developed some form of fear towards him. Perhaps he thought Kolivan resentful, which he wasn’t. But he did find the new way Emi jumped around him amusing. 

“Yes,” Kolivan said, genuinely grateful.

“Okay,” Emi smiled, his shoulders relaxing. “With which part?”

“All of it,” Kolivan said in a whispered tone. Emi’s smile reached his eyes, looking back to Coran who was answering Curtis’s barrage of questions. Emi knew now that Kolivan’s affections for Coran weren’t flights of fancy, but it couldn’t have been clearer to him than in that moment.

“Very well,” he nodded, “let’s start with your character class.”

They settled on klazgool, Emi reasoned that it aligned best with Kolivan’s instincts, decision-making during the game would come more naturally that way. The interface filled out a portion of the blanks with klazgools’ average statistics. 

“Name?”

Kolivan raised an eyebrow. “Kolivan?”

“No, no, for your character.”

“Is my name not sufficient?”

“Well, no, of course, it’s perfectly sufficient,” Emi said at a near ramble. “But you can name them something else if you like.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I named mine based around their backstory. Trick comes from a long line of mavens and is the eighth of his name, determined to pass on not only his knowledge, but his name as his fathers before him had done.”

“Is that in the Guidebook?”

“No, I made it up. That’s part of the game.”

“Kolivan,” Curtis called his attention over, “if it helps, I named my character Wimbledon, y’know, after the tennis tournament. I like tennis and it sounds fancy, mage-like. It can be as simple as that.”

“Understatement of the century,” Shiro chuckled. “You love tennis. Wimbledon is—and I’ve heard you say this—the most sophisticated word in your vocabulary.”

Curtis elbowed him playfully. “Well, at least I didn’t name my character Gyro. ”

“Look, technically I didn’t name him, but I stand by the decision made before me,” Shiro said with a shrug. “You can absolutely name your character after yourself, Kolivan. I know I would’ve.”

An echo of his headache was creeping back to his temples. They weren’t even playing yet.

“Look here, love,” Coran said gently, placing the player’s guidebook in his hand. “You can pick from the suggestion list here. Klazgools are natural born warriors with a penchant for traditional names, most have between these five.” 

He knew this meant a lot to Coran and he was determined to show him that he understood that. He wanted to try. 

“Kulda. That’s the name. Kulda the…Loyal, first of his name,” Kolivan offered Coran a smile, handing him back the book. Coran’s marks lit up when he smiled, absolutely endearing.

“Alright, is everyone ready?” Coran asked, taking his seat at the map’s control panel. “Then let the adventure begin!”

As it turned out, Coran had run a small portion of the game already; as the players had arrived, Coran had given them only bits of information. 

First had been Shiro: Gyro’s journey had led him to an old man that required a favor in exchange for information. A favor that took him to the entrance to a cave.

Second had been Curtis and Emi: Wimbledon and his companion, Trick, had been tasked with the retrieval of their town’s leader’s war hammer, their only clue leading them to a haunted mountain.

Finally, it was Kolivan, last to have arrived: Kulda had received a poem a few weeks after his sword, Blackrazor, had been stolen. A calling card from the thief that led him to the village of Yellowreach. The “feathered mound” the poem described was only a few miles away.

Kulda opted to investigate the surrounding area at the foot of the mountain, only to find a mage and maven poking around as well. They soon came upon a paladin at the entrance to the cave where they would “burrow away from the sun.”

Coran briefed them of their mission: each were tasked with the same goal—retrieve the three sentient weapons that had been stolen—and delve into the belly of the volcanic mountain, haunted by the demons and traps left behind by the rumored thief—a mage not seen in thirteen hundred years, having had disappeared into the mountain along with his legion of minions. While their allegiances were tied to different wills and masters, they had to work together to wade through White Plume Mountain and escape with their lives.

Coran took them through the cavern, erecting small armies of creatures to get in their way or setting up trap passages to either kill them or impede their progression. Kolivan noticed a growing frustration in Coran when they proved too clever for his puzzles, evident in the furrow of his brow, the notes he seemed to scratch out and rewrite, and the vengeful difficulty at which the puzzles seemed to increase.

The party wandered into a room of permanent darkness early on. The room was guarded by a creature of the night that preyed on the blood of weary travelers. Gyro executed the beast, finding that the old man’s request was under the creature’s protection as well: a trident, the “wave in need of rescue.” Given the choice to abandon the party, his mission complete, Gyro decided against it, being the noble paladin by their side.

Halfway through Coran’s cavern of madness, they emerge above a boiling lake encased in a bubble. A demonic combination of a puzzle and creature encounter, as Wimbledon and Trick faced an enormous crustacean while diverting all harm that would come to the bubble, the delicate barrier that separated the boiling lake from them. The crustacean’s defeat earned them Whelm, the war hammer they sought “past waterspouts double”. The duo remained with the party, thinking their chances of returning alive better if accompanied by the strength of their companions.

Coran seemed a little irked by the camaraderie the party displayed. 

Toward what must’ve been the end of that hell dungeon, Blackrazor found itself in the hands of a monstrous mage—“remaining to be won”—wielded more like a rod of magic than an actual sword. With the help of the newly rescued weapons, Kulda managed to subdue the crazed mage, but they knew it wasn’t their thief.

“Warily, you retrace your steps,” Coran told them. Kolivan surprisingly found himself tense and anxious, like he was expecting a real-life ambush. “Can you all roll me a skill check, please?”

“Which one?” Shiro asked.

“Stealth.”

“Shit,” Emi mumbled.

“Success or failure, fellas?” Coran prodded. 

“Is fifteen a success?” Shiro asked.

Coran frowned at his notes, Kolivan watching the tendons of his hand flex with the urge to edit something. “Barely.”

“Success,” Kolivan informed.

“Success!” Curtis cheered.

“Oh, quiznak ,” Emi whispered. Coran perked up immediately, ready to savor the words that would follow. “Failure. What happens now?”

 Coran grinned from ear to ear, something sadistic and vindictive in his expression. “Trick, you’ve tripped on the rocky path and triggered something. ”

“I cast Arcane Detection,” Curtis said hurriedly.

“Do you have spell slots left?”

“Yes.”

“Are your hands free? That spell has a somatic component.”

“One hand is enough,” Curtis said, checking his interface.

“Fine, you cast Arcane Detection,” Coran relented. “Your senses are flooded, the magic left by the mage extends itself through every crevice of the mountain. As far as your spell ranges, you can tell the path is laced in traps. Anything else you want to do?”

“Run,” Kolivan said.

“Are you crazy?” Emi looked at him, startled.

“There’s already something we’re unaware of unfolding, I’ve got what I came for and I’m not going to wait around to find out what you triggered,” Kolivan reasoned. “Coran, Kulda is running.”

“Wonderful, you run.”

“No checks?” Shiro asked.

Coran simply shrugged. This was borderline psychological warfare.

The party followed Kulda’s lead. Coran allowed them the false hope of spotting the light at the end of the dungeon’s exit, but something crashed upon Kulda’s shoulders, pinning him to the ground. 

“ I care not, former owners brave, what heroes you seek to hire. Though mighty, I’ll make each one my slave, or send him to the fire, ” a frayed voice croaked. A mage stood before them, features grotesque and stature small, much too young for someone over thirteen hundred years of age. “I, the one and only Keraptis, have waited a long time for your arrival. It seems it’s time I handle you myself.”

Coran straightened in his chair, typing something in his interface. Emi sat up as well, eyes wide and stuck to the screen in his hand.

“Fellas,” Trick said warily, “he’s lying. That can’t be Keraptis.”

“ Roll initiative. ”

The mage grew enraged at the suggestion, eloquent poems and long speeches vanishing in lue of a rampage. Kulda was prone, Wimbledon was down, Gyro had used his last spell slot to heal Trick; it wasn’t looking good for the unlikely companions. 

“I am him, he is me,” the creature rasped in a craze. “There is only one who set the trap to lure in my new legion of minions, and it was me. ”

“You are an impostor,” Trick insisted. “The real Keraptis was a Common-man.”

The creature hissed, lunging at Trick.

“You get a reaction for that, Emi,” Coran informed him.

“Okay, I want to do something, but it might end badly,” Emi said, looking around at the table. “Is that okay?”

“I’m good with that,” Curtis said easily. “These saving throws aren’t looking good.”

“I don’t think it could get that much worse,” Kolivan said with a shrug. “Go ahead.”

Shiro nodded in agreement, clearly still trying to strategize some solution. 

“Alright, I cast Fire’s Wick and I try to hold him in place.”

Coran wrinkled his nose at that. “Roll to grapple, contested.”

“Seven.”

Coran went from gleeful to dismayed. “Four.” Coran took a sharp breath. “Alright, you successfully hold on to him as the fire that was spreading from your hands engulfs him. You watch as he screams and writhes and catches on fire. It is not typical for a creature to be so flammable, but as Trick knows, the legion of minions Keraptis kept was an ill-advised one: mlarks, creatures particularly susceptible to fire, creatures that would surely grow mad and disfigured inside a volcanic mountain such as this one. Keraptis had long passed, the impostor before you a mere echo of his most brilliant minion. An echo that was now becoming a dangerous flame, roaring and consuming. What are you guys doing?”

“Can I run?”

“On the next turn, darling.”

“Well, I’m dying here,” Curtis said.

“Not if I can help it,” Shiro said stubbornly. “I pick up Wimbledon and start running to the exit.”

“Alright,” Coran said, turning to Emi. “You take some fire damage, being so close to the mlark.”

“And earn an exhaustion point,” Emi said, frowning at his interface. “I can’t run.”

 “The flames continue to spread, the heat from the walls rising, Gyro and Wimbledon are out of the cave in this turn if you keep running,” Coran said to Shiro, who nodded. “Love, you can move this turn. With your full range of movement, you can get just outside of the flames, but you can also try to get Trick away from the epicenter. You’ll take fire damage, but it’ll be reduced. What will you do?”

“Whelm and Wave are with Gyro and Wimbledon, right?” Kolivan asked.

“Yes.”

Easy enough. “I’m grabbing Trick and using the movement I have left.”

“Strength check.”

“Christ, Coran,” Curtis complained. It wasn’t even his check to make.

“Numbers, please,” Coran insisted. 

“Twenty.”

“ What? ”

“YES!” Emi nearly leaped out of his seat.

“About damn time,” Curtis huffed.

“Alright, alright. You heroically throw Trick over your shoulder, feeling him lighter than you expected him to be, and manage to get 45 cubes away from the fire instead of 30. The flames lick at your back and you take…two fire damage. Gyro and Wimbledon are now in the safety of the outside. Curtis, how are those saving throws?”

Curtis crossed his arms, somewhat defiant. “I’m telling this part.”

Coran conceded easily.

“As Gyro reaches the mouth of the cave, I see through heavy eyelids the first rays of the morning sun and the shifting colors of the sky as night becomes day. I draw a last peaceful breath as I realize we are out of danger, comforted in the arms of my paladin, and my grip on Whelm goes slack.”

“You died?” Emi whispered like it was a secret. 

“I failed my last saving throw, had two successes and two failures.”

Shiro cleared his throat, lacing his fingers with Curtis’s. 

“Aw, babe,” Curtis chuckled sympathetically, cradling his face with his other hand.

“Sorry,” Shiro sniffed, leaning his forehead against his husband’s. “We can keep playing, I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Kolivan averted his eyes, knowing the scene to be rather intimate. He imagined the loss of his companion was a rather sensitive topic for Shirogane. 

“Darling,” Coran got Kolivan’s attention.

“Yes, love?”

“It’s your turn, unless Emi wants to do something?” 

Emi shook his head. 

“I keep running, Coranic. Am I out of the cave yet?”

Coran smiled, one of his kind smiles, and sat up in his seat. “As you make your grand escape, the mlark’s growing flames close behind, you reach the safety of the outside. Victorious in your commissions, Gyro heads out with a heavy heart to deliver the trident to the old man and receive the information he sought, and Trick wanders home, missing his friend but able to complete the mission they had set out together to do. Kulda, both master and slave to Blackrazor’s will and wants, continues his duty to appease the sword and solidify his legacy as the first of his name. And that’s the game.”

“Cheers, Coran,” Emi said, standing up with a stretch. “It was a great game. What hour is it, by the way?”

“Late,” Shiro said through a yawn, looking at his phone. “Super later. Coran, can we stay in my old quarters tonight?”

“You can stay in your quarters whenever, my boy. They’re yours.”

“Alright, well, I’m turning in,” Emi said, stepping around Kolivan. “Goodnight, fellas.”

Shiro and Curtis followed shortly after, leaving Coran to clear the minis from the holographic display and Kolivan leafing through the Player’s Guidebook.

“So, what did you think?” Coran asked with excited curiosity. 

“It was fun,” Kolivan said easily. “I can also see why you’re so adept at battle strategy. I was very impressed.”

“Oh, uh, thank you,” Coran said, clearly caught off guard.

“You are also a very cruel Lore Master.”

That made Coran laugh. “Yes, I’ve definitely heard that one before.”

“Now, I’m going to bed. It’s been a long day,” Kolivan said, leaning over to kiss Coran’s cheek. “I’m not sure if you have any pending matters. Should I wait for you or...?”

“I’ll be right there. I just need to clear the table.” 

“Alright.”

Kolivan slipped heavily into unconsciousness, with only a vague impression that Coran had made it to their bed. The next morning, he woke to find Coran’s side empty. He must have slept in, the exhaustion from the day before a bigger confine than he had realized. 

“He lives,” Coran said from his desk. “I’ve never seen you sleep so much.”

“What’s the time?” Kolivan said, sluggishly sitting up and rubbing his eye. His eyesight was still trying to focus.

“Four hours past sunrise.”

“Hmph, great,” Kolivan stretched and dragged himself out of bed, causing Coran to whistle.

“I love when you don’t sleep with a shirt on,” Coran said with a sigh, making Kolivan chuckle.

“I never wear a shirt to sleep.”

“No, no. There was one time, early in our relationship, maybe the first time you stayed over. Massively disappointing.”

That got a good laugh out of him, making Coran brighten. He walked over to Coran’s desk and pulled a chair closer, crossing his arms and resting his chin on top. Coran’s eyes followed his movements, his hand instinctively reaching out and playing with Kolivan’s ear.

“Any meetings today?” 

“No, just paperwork, processing requests and the like,” Coran said, his eyes skimming over his filer screen. “Hey, I’ve been wondering about something.”

Kolivan’s eyes were closing again, Coran’s fingers digging at some wonderful nerve just past his ear. “Hm? What about?”

“Where did you get the name Kulda?”

Kolivan gave him a questioning look, managing to open one eye. “What do you mean?”

“I love you dearly, you know this, but you’re not the most imaginative man I’ve ever met, Van.”

Kolivan chuckled at that. “Hm, right. It’s a pet name—a pet’s name. I had a fyukl when I was a boy. Ma let me keep it even though feeding it would be difficult. Her name was Kulda. She was a very good girl.”

“A fyukl. I haven’t seen one of those in—”

“Ten thousand years?”

Coran gave him a soft smile, the kind that hid his lips behind his mustache, yet crinkled his eyes. “Give or take, yeah.”

“They were more common on my side of the universe, but even then, they were rare. I haven’t seen one since Kulda.”

“Kulda the Fyukl.”

“First of her name. So, that makes the klazgool second of his name, technically.”

“So, you had fun last night, right?”

Kolivan rose to his elbows and leaned forward, finally kissing the silly man he loved. “Yes,  I had fun.”

He tried to pull away, but Coran held him there, kissing him repeatedly until Kolivan couldn’t help but laugh against his lips.

“You’re sure?”

“I only do things I want to do, Coranic,” Kolivan said, pressing one last kiss to his lips and sitting up. “Speaking of, I’m going to get some breakfast. Have you had any yet?”

“Shiro had left some coffee in the kitchen.”

“ Coran. ”

“ Kolivan. ”

“I’m bringing you something to eat, too,” he said, walking to the dresser and pulling out some clothes.

“You don’t have to.”

“I’m going to. Stop complaining.”

Coran relented, knowing that insisting otherwise would only make them go in circles. 

Kolivan was never picky about what was stocked in the kitchen at any given time. He was used to his food being bland and of questionable texture, any diversion from that was always welcome. He leaned on the counter, eating his food while he waited for Coran’s cream to finish heating up.

“Good morning,” Emi said brightly. “Funny how we never run into each other in the kitchen.”

Kolivan nodded politely, still chewing his green slime. He wasn’t sure what the dish was called.

“Hey, I never said thanks for saving me last night,” Emi continued, as he moved to fetch his own breakfast. “I thought your obvious move was to leave me behind.”

“It didn’t feel obvious,” Kolivan said simply. “It’s what you said about instinct. It made decision-making easier.”

“And your instinct was to save me? Why?”

Kolivan scraped the last few bites from the bottom of the bowl and cleaned the dish, before answering: “I have nothing against you, Emi. And it seemed like bad sportsmanship to just leave you.”

“Oh,” was all Emi seemed able to say. “Really? Even after…?”

Kolivan took a breath. He could have all the understanding in the world for the reasoning behind Emi’s actions, but that didn’t mean it didn’t frustrate him.

“You were just doing your job. Like I did my job last night.”

“Well, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Have a good morning, Emi,” Kolivan said, grabbing Coran’s breakfast and heading back to their room.

He set the warm bowl in front of Coran, pushing away his digital filer. Kolivan had already known that it was a particularly difficult task to get Coran away from his work; he'd thought it was an admirable trait at some point. But as he grew to care about Coran, he realized it was more self-destruction than commitment that drove Coran to his work. 

“Kolivan, I told you—”

“Shut up,” Kolivan said, holding him by the jaw and kissing him. “Eat.”

Coran sat back with a blush that was spreading from his cheeks to his ears, his marks glowing lightly. 

“Alright, er, thank you—for, uh, the food.”

“It’s nothing, love.”

“How was your movement? I didn’t get a chance to ask last night,” Coran said, watching Kolivan take a seat at their bed and grab the book by the nightstand. 

“Fine until it wasn’t,” Kolivan said, searching for his spot in the pages. “Lurok had just left when you called yesterday.”

“Oh.” Kolivan didn’t have to look up to know that Coran was wrinkling his nose. “He’s usually harmless, though, right?”

“He remains so, yes. But he’s fucking obnoxious.”

Coran laughed at that.  “Sorry you have to deal with him.”

“Part of the job, unfortunately.”

“Well, I’m all done eating,” Coran said, tilting his bowl for Kolivan to see.

“Good. Let me know when you’re done with paperwork and the like.”

“Why’s that?”

“Believe it or not, I also find it massively disappointing to find you with clothes on in the morning,” he said, closing his book, having had very little left to read.

“Good grief,” Coran breathed out.

“I think I’ll head to the library, find myself something else to read. Pass the time.”

He looked up to find Coran somewhat dumbstruck.

“I’ll see myself out. Leave you to it.”

“Yes, right.”

It was only fair for Kolivan to play Coran’s game last night, following his lead and rules, since Coran had been playing Kolivan’s for far longer. Simple rules and high rewards that kept Coran from burning out from his workload.

Kolivan was sure it wouldn’t take Coran too much time to wrap up with work. And much to his delight, he was usually right.

[spitblaze]

u ever realize that the game that you thought was stupid hard isnt actually stupid hard because you were just playing it the wrong way

[hassianlovebot]

i wish there was more in the whole shepp thing,, even the character just bringing it up would be nice lol sometimes i forget that was a thing i had to do and considering it was like. The quest for the ceremony and took a long time? boooooooo

here are some ideas/wants i have!! going down in how hard it would be for the devs to add

a special quest with the shepp where you go on a little adventure and they have dialogue teaching you about majiri and kilima culture (and maybe their paths/interests too). ideally this would work similarly to the temple quests where you get to unlock a new place. maybe add a building that you can't get into until you complete the ceremony and fully become part of the kilima community? visit another town? idk man just something nice and rewarding

a separate shepp relationship level alongside the friendship and romance ones. it would just be with your shepp (obviously), and increasing it would involve conversing with them using the shepp option (dialogue would include teaching you about majiri & kilima culture, their path, their life experiences and beliefs, etc) and Maybe leveling up in their path if that's possible with them (ex: reth with cooking). for certain levels you get gifts that are unique to the character and their path. this would incentivize players to really think about who they want their shepp to be and not just choose their fav blorbo!

you talk to them after the ceremony and they gift you a placeable guidebook about majiri and kilima culture that they wrote themselves (so unique to each character's personality) and that you can actually read (like the books that you can read around the map)

a weekly challenge related to their path/interest. i'm not sure how they'd implement this for characters like caleri or chayne since their paths aren't part of the gameplay like cooking for ex but,, it'd be cool lol maybe for those characters they could add like a,,, talk to that character x amount of times challenge?

add casual dialogue centered around them being your shepp like "hey remind me to teach you about this thing" or "have you heard about this thing that we do" or "hey you've learned a lot blahblahblah" and maybe dialogue from other characters about them being your shepp (similar to the romance ones). they could give their opinions on that character or even ask you how it's going

literally bro just anything it's so weird to me that this was SO important at the beginning and so meaningless immediately afterwards. please devs pleasepleaseplease

[pocketramblr]

Who knows what Gerudo culture or fashion would have evolved into by 'Rule's time but it's nice to think about him getting to experience a bit more of it in another universe... Before BLYGanon sours it for him... Also been thinking about that Great Fairy of the desert...

[todayisafridaynight]

Didn’t Ichiban help Nancy get her girlfriend?… Ichiban the wing man 😂

you know damn well there be girls out there running to their single friends for relationship advice this the same thing. but with crustaceans.

[tillman]

The actual lengths a guy will go thru to hunt down lost media just so he can get new images of his funny guys. Is I think the real moral of my life.

[grassbreads]

Monster of the Week is superior to all other ttrpgs actually because the rules for what happens when magic goes wrong are *super* loose, so I as the keeper get to do whatever the fuck I want.

It's awesome. Last session I turned a player's bones into spaghetti.

[smallearthboundfindings]

Semi-canon? Well, I don't know if this will excite you more or not, but since the Mother Encyclopedia was made in-house by Ape Inc. with Itoi credited, this particular piece of side material is actually 100% canon as far as we're aware! Here it is untranslated! (unlike the version I linked earlier); you can see what I mean!

[Image Source]

Hello, backstory enthusiasts, and welcome to the ...

George and Maria Special! tm

As you might, remember, George and Maria are an integral part of Mother 1's plot, arguably the reason the entire trilogy takes place, and yet, we don't know much about them, do we?

Well lucky you, because the Mother Encyclopedia goes way more into detail than the game ever did and I'm going to summarize it so you don't have to!

Open up for the complete story of the two that started it all. I'll try to state it in chronological order.

As our original tale begins in the early 1900s, so does ours. Thus begins... the timeline.

George, orphaned young and then fresh out of high school, takes up a job as a letter-boy for a prominent paper in the "big city" (city unspecified), later being promoted to journalist.

After writing a large expose on the president, he rises to fame but also falls into conflict with the chief editor that leads him to break off on his own and move to Mother's Day/Podunk on the whim of a Help Wanted ad in its daily newspaper, The Mother's Day Times (presumably alternatively The Podunk Times), where he was hired as the editor-in-chief for a novelization of the town's history.

(Note: I will be using the EarthBound Beginnings location names from now on for simplicity.)

Upon his first arrival in Podunk, the first person he met was Maria as she sketched a carnation bed, her illustrations later being chosen to appear in George's piece. This would later lead into their marriage.

From there on out, they lived rather peacefully, with Maria often playing piano concerts to the town's children alongside George, until a dark cloud appeared around Mount Itoi's summit and people went missing en masse to later return with complete amnesia of whatever happened to them. (Not to mention the flying furniture ensuing as well.)

George, being the journalist that he was, however, saw this as a scoop and started an investigative report. While having no luck with any clues, he would publish what little he did find. And immediately fell missing alongside Maria as well. Ironic.

Two years, later, only George returned, visibly aged to become a recluse, dropping his work on the newspaper to focus on studying PSI.

... Maria never returned.

Thus, the events described in-game continue from here as another black cloud strikes back. Mother 1 has begun.

[fratttymatty]

All British American Boy

(All characters are 18+)

Matthew Hastings leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the airplane window, watching as the endless patchwork of green and brown fields below gave way to the sprawling suburban grid. He adjusted his glasses and ran a hand through his messy brown hair, feeling a knot of nerves tighten in his stomach. He had read every guidebook, watched countless YouTube videos, and even practiced a Midwestern accent as a joke, but nothing could prepare him for actually being here—America.

More specifically, the East Coast of California, a small town near the beach where he’d spend his gap year as an exchange student before university. For an 18-year-old British boy with a penchant for sci-fi novels, indie music, and political debates, it felt like stepping into a completely different world.

At the airport, Matthew’s host family greeted him with big smiles and even bigger hugs. The Bennetts were the epitome of California Americana: Todd, the jovial dad in a baseball cap; Lisa, the bubbly mom with a perpetual tray of cookies; and Chase, their athletic, all-smiles son who was also 18. Chase was a senior at the local high school and the starting quarterback of the football team.

“Matthew,” Lisa said brightly as they piled into the family’s SUV. “What a great name! So classic. So All-American!”

Matthew blinked. “Uh, thanks?”

Chase chuckled from the backseat, where he sat next to Matthew. “Yeah, bro, it’s perfect. You’re gonna fit right in.”

Matthew wasn’t so sure about that, but he forced a polite smile.

The first day at school was a blur of introductions and unfamiliar faces. Everyone seemed fascinated by his accent, asking him to say random words like “bottle” and “aluminium,” which felt strangely alien to Matthew, now that he was in a place where everyone had the same cadence and lingo. It wasn’t long before his name became a subject of constant discussion.

As Matthew walked into the school, he could feel eyes on him. Cheerleaders, jocks, and teachers alike seemed to zero in on him, exchanging knowing glances.

One of the cheerleaders, a blonde girl with a smile that could light up a room, grinned as she approached. “Matthew, huh? Your name sounds so... All-American,” she said, giggling. “You’re not secretly a football player, are you?”

Matthew blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, no, not really.”

“Pfft, I bet you could be,” she teased, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she walked off, still chuckling. “We need more guys like you on the team. You’d fit right in.”

As Matthew made his way through the crowded hallways, another guy—a tall jock in a varsity jacket—clapped him on the back as he passed. “Matthew, huh? Dude, that’s a name you can take to the bank. Like, you’re straight outta one of those All-American movies, right?”

Matthew managed a smile, but inside, he was still trying to make sense of it all. What did they mean? What was this weird association everyone seemed to have with his name?

“Yeah, man,” another guy, a friend of the first, added as they walked past, “you’re gonna be a star here. Football, maybe? You look like you belong on the field.”

Later that day, in history class, his new teacher, Mr. Henderson, remarked on his name with an enthusiastic grin. “Matthew. Now that’s a name I can get behind! Really sounds like the kind of guy who’d be representing the All-American spirit. You’re the pride of your country, huh?”

Matthew, unsure how to respond, simply nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Cool, cool,” Mr. Henderson said, adjusting his glasses. “You’re going to get along great here.”

During lunch, as Matthew stood in line, he overheard a conversation between a group of cheerleaders. They were talking about the new kid—him—and they couldn’t stop commenting on his name.

“That Matthew kid?” one of the cheerleaders said, flipping her hair. “Totally All-American. I swear, he looks like he just stepped out of a high school movie.”

“Right?” another cheerleader responded. “I bet he’s gonna be the next big thing here. He’s got the look. That strong jawline? Those cheekbones? Definitely jock material.”

Matthew froze mid-bite, his fork hovering in the air. Strong jawline? Cheekbones? He frowned and ran his tongue along his teeth. He’d never thought of himself as having any of those features. His jawline had always seemed weak and round, and his cheekbones were practically nonexistent. Had they mistaken him for someone else? He glanced around, wondering if they were talking about someone else. But no, they were definitely referring to him.

Later that afternoon, as he was leaving class, the principal—Mr. Gallagher, a tall man in his 50s with a firm handshake—stopped him in the hallway.

“Matthew,” Mr. Gallagher said with a smile, his voice warm but commanding. “I hear you’re fitting in well. It’s not every day we get a guy with such an All-American name. People around here are already talking about you. And I’ve gotta say, I think you’ll do great things at this school.”

Matthew blinked, feeling like the entire world was projecting some image onto him that he hadn’t asked for.

“Thanks, I guess?” he said hesitantly, unsure of how to respond.

“You’re welcome,” Mr. Gallagher said, still smiling broadly. “It’s good to have someone like you in our school. Now, go enjoy the rest of your day. You’re definitely going to fit right in.”

That evening, after dinner, as Matthew was settling in, Chase walked into his room with a mischievous grin and a bottle of cologne in hand.

“Alright, Matthew Hastings,” Chase said, leaning against the doorframe. “Time to complete your transformation.”

Matthew raised an eyebrow. “What are you on about?”

Chase stepped closer, unscrewing the cap of the cologne. “This is the secret ingredient. One spray of this, and you’re gonna be the perfect All-American boy.”

Matthew snorted. “Very funny.”

But before he could protest, Chase spritzed the cologne in his direction. The scent hit Matthew’s nose—strong, woodsy, and oddly intoxicating. He staggered back, his vision blurring.

“What the hell?” he mumbled, clutching his head as a strange warmth spread through his body. His glasses slipped from his face, and he blinked in confusion.

Matthew felt the change like a wave crashing over him. His clothes grew tighter, the fabric hugging new, broader muscles. His hands expanded, becoming larger and more defined. His spine straightened as his body seemed to bulk up, every inch of him transforming into a physical reflection of a guy who could play football, lift weights, and dominate any sports field.

But it was his hair that caught him off guard the most. The gelled, slightly messy brown hair he had always known as his was now slowly shifting. He could feel it growing, thickening, becoming wilder. His once-neat style unraveled, and it was replaced by a messy, dirty blonde wave that fell effortlessly into place, as if his hair had always been meant to look this way. His strands now had a natural tousled look, framing his face with an untamed, confident aura that screamed “California jock.”

He stumbled to the mirror, his heart racing. His reflection showed a tall, athletic figure with a strong jawline, perfect blonde hair that seemed to defy gravity, and bright blue eyes that gleamed with confidence. The nerdy, awkward British boy who had boarded the plane was nowhere to be found. In his place stood a tall, chiseled young man with a cocky smile and a powerful presence.

“Dude,” Chase said, clapping him on the back. “Looking good!”

Matthew turned to him, startled by the deep, American drawl that came out of his mouth. “What... what did you do to me?”

Chase shrugged. “Just helped you find your true self, bro.”

The following days passed in a blur of transformations—both external and internal. Matthew, now calling himself Matt Bennett, slid seamlessly into his new life. He joined the football team alongside Chase, becoming one of the star players almost immediately. His accent, his interests, even his political views began to shift. His love of indie music and intellectual debates slowly faded, replaced with a growing obsession for rap and R&B, the beats pounding through his headphones whenever he wasn’t on the field. He loved the swagger and confidence that came with it, the rhythms that felt so natural now, like they were a part of him all along.

His love of sci-fi novels seemed trivial now, a memory from another life. His sense of identity, too, morphed. The boy who had once questioned his sexual orientation—who had once enjoyed the company of both men and women—found himself suddenly, unmistakably attracted to women. In fact, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been with a guy. His attraction to men was now something distant and irrelevant, like a forgotten dream.

His new family felt like his real family. He called Todd and Lisa “Mom” and “Dad” without hesitation. And then there was Cassie, the bubbly cheerleader who became his girlfriend. With her blonde curls, wide smile, and endless use of words like “like” and “totes,” she was everything he never knew he wanted.

Chase noticed the change, of course. One day, while tossing a football back and forth, Chase shot him a sly grin. “You like the new you, right? You’re basically the ideal All-American man now. You’ve got the looks, the skills, the right political views, and, of course, the perfect girlfriend.”

Matt laughed, a confident, almost smug laugh. “Yeah, bro. I mean, it’s like I’ve always been this way, y’know? Girls, football... that’s all that matters. Oh, and, uh, conservative values, right?”

Chase slapped him on the back. “Hell yeah. If we all just stuck to our guns, everything would be perfect.” He paused, his grin widening. “Just like us.”

At school, Matt became a local legend. His name, now officially “Matt Bennett,” was on everyone’s lips. Teachers and classmates alike would remark on how “All-American” he looked. At the football games, Matt was cheered on as a hero. His life, once a tangled web of uncertainty and self-doubt, had been rewritten.

Now, he was Matt Bennett, the perfect All-American jock, and he couldn't imagine being anyone else.

One afternoon, as he walked hand-in-hand with Cassie through the school’s hallway, Chase slapped him on the back. “Told you, man. Brunettes are great, but blondes? That’s where it’s at.”

Matt laughed, his perfect white teeth gleaming. “You were right, bro.”

And as he leaned in to kiss Cassie, he didn’t think about the boy he had been before. Why would he? He was Matt Hastings now, the perfect All-American boy.

At school, Matt became a local legend. His name, now officially “Matt Bennett,” was on everyone’s lips. Teachers and classmates alike would remark on how “All-American” he looked. His new, muscular frame made him a standout, but it was his natural charisma and sharp athleticism that earned him respect.

“You know,” one of his classmates commented during lunch, “Matt Bennett... that name just screams All-American jock. It’s like something out of a movie.”

Another added, “Dude’s gotta be the most ‘jocky’ guy in school. I can already picture him playing pro football someday.”

The attention was flattering. He found himself slipping into the role effortlessly, becoming the guy everyone admired, the one who fit the mold perfectly.

But there was something else. It was in the way he now saw the world—through a lens of conservative ideals. Matt often found himself in debates with classmates, his new opinions solidifying as the days went on. He believed firmly in traditional gender roles, the importance of family values, and a strong distaste for liberal ideologies. The political conversations he had once enjoyed with his friends back in England seemed ridiculous now.

One day, during a lunch break, he and Chase found themselves talking about their political views.

“You know what’s messed up?” Matt said, taking a bite of his sandwich. “The way the country’s going. I mean, I don’t know how anyone could vote for those liberals. Everything’s just getting too soft.”

Chase nodded. “Exactly, man. It’s like people don’t want to stand up for what’s right anymore. We need to take America back. Make it great again.”

Matt chuckled. “I’m with you. It’s all about family, football, and freedom.”

Everything about Matt Bennett felt right now. His identity was clear, his life full of purpose, and every moment felt like an affirmation of his new self. He was exactly who he was supposed to be—perfectly All-American, living the life he had never even known he wanted.

And when he kissed Cassie, his blonde, bubbly cheerleader girlfriend, the world felt even more complete. He didn’t think about the boy he had been, the questions he had once asked himself. Why would he? He was Matt Bennett now—an All-American jock, straight as an arrow, and proud of it.

[gunsandspaceships]

Official confirmation/refutation of Tony's psychological condition

Marvel Cinematic Universe Guidebook: The Avengers Initiative (p.166).

The Marvel Cinematic Universe: An Official Timeline (p.96).

Officially confirmed:

PTSD - TRUE

"Textbook narcissism" - FALSE

"Not a team player" - FALSE

[marbarmars]

Good Grambi girl...I asked this to be playful so I expected a playful answer...BUT I DIDN"T EXPECT TO TEAR UP. :'D Not that I think I was super fearful about getting older...but I hope when that day happens, I'm in my 40s and hopefully still friends with you all, I'm writing awesome love stories with older characters and OCs. Maybe my main OCs I have will age up with me...that would be nice. Like my eyes are open man, I know it may not look like I write a lot of queer older relationships right now but I really would like to do that someday, to be part of that healthy representation. I really wanna be that writer/artist that you can come to and feel safe with.

Wafers, my phone has been blowing up with hardenshipping this morning /pos

With your recent liking towards Metadedede and now Hardenshipping resurfacing I think the people gotta know: Do you enjoy some good old man yaoi? >:3

hell yeah! I’m glad you noticed and asked me what’s up :3

My gf was playing Pokémon Alpha Sapphire and really loves Team Aqua, and I went on Tumblr to look at Hardenshipping. It got me more into the ship. As for Metadede, I don’t know how that happened or why I developed a recent hyperfixation on Kirby. I’m guessing the music and then it led to lore videos and seeing Kirby Fighter’s 2 and Tumblr go wild. Basically if I see a ship over and over I start liking it sometimes lol, but not all the time. Also I’m a lover of goofy extroverted man who has trauma but needs someone to recognize it since despite all the people who know him, few truly know him AND silent introverted man who is also traumatized but doesn’t let people in easily except for who you would think would be the complete ANTITHESIS to the silent introverted man but it works somehow.

I love some old man yaoi! It’s nice to see old men in love. I lean more towards wholesome and romantic for old man yaoi since I see too many toxic and rough couples lol, it’s nice to switch it up with something soft. With how few queer stories there are compared to how many straight stories there are, and in many queer stories it focuses on young queer people in love, it can leave the impression that there’s no future for old queer people; that queer people are doomed to die young. Old man yaoi and old woman yuri are nice ways to counteract the narrative that queer people don’t get to live long. And even so, not realizing one is queer when young shouldn’t doom someone that they can’t find love if they want it. There’s many people who don’t realize they’re queer until late in life and that’s okay. Plus if one doesn’t find the love of their life young, they can still have just as fulfilling a relationship when older or old. It’s reassuring to know that no matter the baggage, how many ex’s you have, or how many kids you have, you can still find love but with someone who will love you back. You’ve let go of the restricting life of heteronormativity to find a life that you build yourself. It’s reassuring to know that no matter how painful or restrictive your childhood was, it’s not the end of you. Your past doesn’t define you. It may define the parameters of what you know or start with, but you can change for the better. Your youth gives you a blueprint but you can try to break free and become the person you wanted to be rather than what the people who hurt you said you are. No matter how many times it takes to learn, no matter how many fuck ups you do (excluding rape, murder, pedo, racism, etc), you will still be loved and find love. Just because your childhood or youth or midlife wasn’t the best doesn’t mean your aging years and near end of life won’t be the worst.

The short answer is that I love old man yaoi :3

[hollowedkingdoms]

Good evening everyone, we have a surprise for you!

We have come a long way since the beginning of this project and after a while of deliberation we thought an update is in order. Here is the new cover of the future players guidebook for the Hollowed Kingdoms Project.

Made by @mebis-art-dump who did an amazing job of bringing this cover to life.

[fuckyeahdwarffortress]

Fangamer are at it again!

I'd not be the first to say a guide on Dwarf Fortress is warranted, and it seems like this one is going to be in full colour, with images, and other small quirks.

I've picked it up myself, along with the Expedition Journal, which you can pick up alongside it at a discount.

Shipping seems to be set for February next year.

[musings-of-a-college-dork]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRwEC2cV/

You should do a fic based off this with Eddie Munson

OMG YES YES YES YES YES!

Me or D&D?

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Word count: roughly 1.2K

Eddie wants to work on his Hellfire Campaign…but his girlfriend has other plans…

Warnings: Slight NSFW (reader flashes Eddie), terms of endearment (sweetheart, baby), reader has boobs, use of Y/N, silly slight NSFW fluff!  

Author’s note: Ok so I received an ask based on this tik tok for Eddie and it literally haunted my thoughts all day today so I knew I had to write it asap! It’s so very on-brand for him and anyway to the anonymous user who requested it THANK YOU SO MUCH and I hope this fits the vibe you were going for! 

Y/N let out a sigh as she finally flipped off the shower. It had been a long day so the very first thing she wanted to do upon reaching Eddie’s was to take a shower, something he happily granted her. He had a new plot to work on for D&D something about the cultists.

“You see they need a motive,” he had been explaining on the car ride over, so animatedly she wondered if he was even looking at the road. “That’s been the issue! There hasn’t been a motive-”

“Eddie! Eyes on the road!” Y/N scolded as she clutched onto her seat.

“And before that was fine,” he rambled on, no change to his driving whatsoever, “But now we’re far enough down the line that they’re starting to question me and the one thing I won’t tolerate is being questioned!”

“The one thing?” she had teased with an eye roll. "The list I could come up with of things you don't tolerate. Basketball players, school in general, any music that you deem 'fake music'-"

“Oh come on!" Eddie exclaimed, driving a bit too close to the edge of the curb for Y/N's comfort before swerving back over, "Some music is just bad and you know it!” He shot her a little glance and a smile, “And I always let you question me! It’s just those idiots I don’t take it from!”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded with a little laugh.

And so needless to say as soon as the pair had entered the house Y/N had set down her things, heading for the shower and Eddie had thrown himself right back into his campaign. Hence that was exactly where she found him as she stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and feeling remarkably refreshed. 

Eddie, much to Y/N's amusement, was laying stomach down on the trailer floor surrounded by guidebooks, maps he had painstakingly sketched himself with intricate levels of detail, and pages upon pages of notes. 

“Eddie, I’m gonna get dressed so we can watch a movie, ‘kay?” Y/N called as she watched him work, not even looking up from the page he was holding as he chewed his pencil in his mouth.

“Mhm,” he replied absence-mindly, obviously not hearing a word she said. 

“I’m going to order from Enzo’s, do you want anything?” She said as she walked into his bedroom, searching for one of his shirts and her pants from earlier. 

“Oh wow,” he replied from the other room causing her to let out a soft chuckle. I could say literally anything right now and he wouldn’t clock it. 

“I’ve decided I’m going to go to school naked tomorrow,” she called, glad Wayne wasn’t home to hear her jests since he’d definitely have some questions. 

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” That got a genuine laugh out of her as she pulled on his shirt and her pants, using a mirror to make sure her hair wasn’t going to dry funny…but looking at herself in the mirror gave her an idea. A small smirk came to her face at the thought as her hand trailed down to mess with the hem of her shirt.

I wonder what will get his attention…?

With that, Y/N turned and headed toward the room. When she arrived, Eddie hadn’t moved an inch but his position had changed. Pencil still tapping against his lips, he was holding one of the maps now, seemingly muttering something to himself that was too low for her to hear. 

“Eddie?” She asked as she slowly made her way over to him, double-checking all the blinds were closed. 

“Mmm?” He hummed, still not looking at her as he scanned the man for some invisible linking detail to fully tie together his campaign. She shook her head with a smile as she came to kneel close enough to him that she knew she was in his visible but far enough away to not disrupt his current chaos. After having seen him fuss at the Hellfire members one too many times for exactly that, she knew it would only deter her plan and she didn't have time for that. 

“Eddie, baby,” she cooed, “Before you get too deep into…all of this, would you just take one second to look at me?” She watched as her words this time did seem to register just a bit since she was now closer in proximity and she received her reward.

“Yea-” Eddie’s eyes went wide and his jaw dropped ever so slightly as he turned to see his girlfriend on her knees, in her jeans and one of his shirts…well sort of in one of his shirts. Because the second he turned to face her, Y/N lifted the hem to reveal her boobs, her boobs without a bra. His face instantly lit up into a large smile as he processed exactly what he was seeing, the pencil still in his grip as he grinned like an idiot. 

He took a moment to look back at the map he had been examining but couldn’t help to look back at her as well, causing Y/N to beam as she continued to hold up the shirt.

“So…” she prompted in a sing-songy tone, “Would you rather do that right now,” she gestured with her free hand to the map, “Or, would you rather do this?” Eddie gasped at her question and fully turned to look at her with a look of mock hurt and disbelief written across his face. 

“What kind of a choice is that?” He scoffed, making her giggle. “What kind of question is that?” He scrunched his nose making her laugh harder, drawing his eyes to the way her chest moved as she did. A smirk came to his face as he looked back into her eyes, holding onto the map as he had before she had effectively flashed him. “I’ve been waiting to work on this,” He held up the map to her but kept his gaze locked with hers, still smiling, “alllllll day,” his dramatics had her giggling again as he shook his head, eyes flickering between her and her boobs still on full display, “Damn Y/N, what kind of a question is that?” The girl had a little huff of her own and faked a pout as she looked at him, making her eyes especially wide and pitiful.

“So…” She began to lower her shirt down, keeping that same pouty look, “You picked-”

“No, no, no!” He said quickly as he threw down the map and pencil, effectively leaping to tackle his girlfriend into the carpet, sending them both sprawling to the ground. Y/N let out a little squeal which dissolved into giggles as he laid his head right on top of her chest. Eddie’s hands trailed up her sides as he pulled her close to him.

“You better be damn proud of yourself L/N,” he said with a teasing scold as he nestled right up into her as her body shook with laughter, “You’re the only person on the face of the entire Earth, in the whole frickin’ universe, that I’d set aside D&D for!” 

“For me?” Y/N asked as she tapped her finger to her lips, pretending to think before looking down at him with a smirk, “Or for my boobs?” 

“Hmmm…” He returned her smirk as he moved his hand and began to push up the shirt she was wearing once again, “Well L/N…you’ve got me there.”

“Eddie!!”

“You! Obviously you!” 

Yay!!! Omg, my first request! Y’all, I can’t even tell you how excited I was when I got this! First off, the tik tok is absolutely adorable, and second off, I was so excited to write it because I could see exactly how it would play out with the two of them in my brain! Eek anyway, to whoever requested it, THANK YOU SO MUCH! It was so fun to write and I hope it’s what you hoped it would be! Anyway, requests are open anytime y’all!

[tsuchishima]

❀ — A GUIDE TO BOKUTO'S MOODS ๋࣭ ⭑ ❁

WARNINGS | none

GUIDEBOOK | types of bokuto's moods, problems and solutions, bokuto in conclusion (will be continued after making a new acc)

WC | 0.5k words ~ GENRE | fluff / slight crack

A/N | this is slightly rushed. why? i'm making a new acc! i got tired with my current theme and decided to switch to a new one. ENJOY READING READER !

NOTEBOOK COVER + PAPER (visual reference)

๋࣭ ⭑ ⚝ — PROBLEMS AND SOLUTIONS !

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ PROBLEM & SOLUTION 1 // VOLLEYBALL MATCH problem context : a perfect set was tossed to him, and he ran up to spike the ball. his hand perfectly aimed at the center as he jumped and spiked it, only to be blocked by one of middle blockers of the opposing team. he groaned and as the next few more rounds started his performance started to go bad. and you guessed it. he's in his emo mode, and he yells out his very expected line "don't toss to me anymore!" he says, pointing to akaashi. possible solution/s : start thinking of solutions that could help uplift his mood. and make sure to imagine all of the possible outcome when you try to do something, whether it's bad or good. also, if he does say his infamous line then just don't toss to him anymore. it's would seem wrong but it would work. his desire to spike will only grow more as he watches getting ignored by his setter. after a few rounds of tossing to other players you can now set to him again, making him get a point—his mood now being back to a cheery one. make sure to praise him afterwards too.

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ PROBLEM & SOLUTION 2 // VOLLEYBALL MATCH problem context : he's playing in the nationals, and he starts to get frustated as he realizes in the court he's playing in is small compared to the main court hinata is playing in. his mood is starting to go downhill. he's in the edge of going emo mode. some of his team members starts to notice this as his hand accidentally slipped on his hands—causing for them to lose a point. he then feels defeated. his shoulders sloping as he looks at the not so high ceiling of the court. he feels terrible. possible solution/s : it's very simple to resolve this problem. just explain that because the court is much smaller more attention is on to him, and that in the main court only 1/4 of the people will be watching him. he will definitely start contemplating at the explanation and would start to look at the loud cheery crowd. he would then start to agree with you even though what you said was half-true, that's bokuto for ya'

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ PROBLEM & SOLUTION 3 // A BAD MOOD problem context : he's feeling downcast. by what? who knows. but all you need to do now is to comfort him. he's probably hiding in a enclosed and dark place. tables, chairs, random things he squeeze in-between he hides in those objects just to feel secure. but it doesn't help him with feeling unhappy. possible solution/s : praise him. just literally praise him, or help him with what he's having trouble with. just a praise from someone that means to him can take his mood to a whole turn. you can also try to ask to practice volleyball with you to try and 'improve' your skills but in reality you're just trying to cheer him up. this may work since he just loveeesss spiking. he quite literally has an endless amount of stamina when it comes to practicing.

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[maximumzombiecreator]

Hi! Maybe you've said it before, but do you know of a good resource to learn the basics of mega dungeon design? Is there any like, guidebooks or something you would reccomend? There seems to be a lot to keep in mind

There are a few different guides I've seen over the years, and I mostly think that they're not very good. For instance, 2nd edition AD&D had a Dungeon Builder's Guidebook, and I went and glanced at my copy to see if I could recommend it here, and I don't think there's much of value in here? I've also seen some bloggers try to lay out some ideas and develop megadungeons of their own. Some of these have looked good! And some of them... had different philosophies to the ones that I would have gone with.

That said, I shan't leave you without anything useful.

The first thing I'm going to call out is that your dungeon is going to change and evolve as you run it. And I don't just mean in terms of how play evolves the space, you're going to end up making changes as you go. In fact, early versions of the DMG basically state that you only really need to have one floor ahead of your players done. Wings of the dungeon further from your players can be a rough sketch of how spaces relate to each other, and if they're a cul-de-sac they don't really need anything at all besides that they exist. Factions, similarly, can be developed as things go on. You only really need to know how they relate to the parts of the dungeon the players can get to early on. I also really like developing factions as play continues. It's not unusual for me to introduce new factions in the progress of play, especially if the players do something that might cause that.

The second thing is this: only do the parts you're excited about. Steal or generate the rest. This may be an odd thing to say, as a girl who has been posting nonstop about megadungeons for weeks now, but I don't actually like making dungeons very much. I like running them, but the actual dungeon creation is kind of a chore. There are great tools for this, though. Atelier Clandestine includes a megadungeon generator in their sandbox generator that I hear is quite good. The last time I made a megadungeon from scratch, huge chunks of it were just Dyson Logos maps stitched together, with only a handful of rooms I made from scratch, either as connectors or specific weird things I wanted. Similarly, for initially stocking rooms, I'll often use random tables to figure stuff out. A bunch of these are from old G+ OSR blogs and stuff like that, but if you go looking for roll tables of weird stuff for dungeons, you'll find a lot of interesting stuff.

The third thing is to just iterate. Start with a vague sketch of the dungeon. What are the zones and how do they connect? What are the general factions, and what do they want? Then, in passes, make it more specific. Fill in one area, flesh out one faction, populate some rooms. As you're doing thing, think about how they interconnect and interrelate. When you decide something about one faction, that'll inform relationships to the other. When you iterate the layout of one zone, that'll inform its connections to others, etc. And you'll keep doing this iteration as you run the dungeon, it really never stops.

Finally, here's a checklist of stuff I like to make sure I'm thinking about. But it's your dungeon, so I would highly encourage figuring out what your own checklist looks like.

Zones. How are they distinct from each other, and what do they have for players and NPCs to want? I'm happiest when I could describe a room to my players and they can know what zone it's in just from the description.

Factions. Who are they, and what do they want? I find these work best when allying with any one faction implies causing tension with at least one other, and when there are no factions with whom allying is completely uncomplicatedly good.

Connections. How do different parts of the dungeon connect, and what are some interesting connections? Things like shortcuts that can be unlocked, one way connections, unconventional connections, ones that require unusual forms of movement to use, or special powers.

Cool stuff. Both in terms of cool stuff to use, and cool problems to overcome. Loot falls in this category, as well as big cool things to interact with in the dungeon. Here's an apparatus that permanently polymorphs anyone who goes inside. Here's a circle that fully heals anyone who enters at the cost of aging you a random amount. Here's a powerful treasure in a box submerged in a lake of acid. Stuff for the players to play with and come back to.

As long as I have those things I'm happy, so as I'm iterating I'll look at my list and see if there's anything I need to add or spice up. And then once I'm at the table, I'll often find I want to make changes and I'll tune things between sessions. Nothing is set until the players have observed it, so if I find my players are coming up to a wing of the dungeon and I'm not happy with how I expect it'll play out, I can always change it.