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dailyadventureprompts · 2 years

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Drafting the Adventure: Dungeon Layouts

One of my most famous complaints about 5e D&D is that the section on creating and running dungeons (one of the most enduring and iconic parts of the game) is only six pages long, most of which is made up of art and random tables. This frustration is born out of the fact that I’ve been struggling to figure out some kind of guideline for exploration based dungeons since I started playing over twenty years ago. I’ve been routinely let down by how our hobby seems to default to “ just wing it” as a guiding design strategy, especially when it comes to new players who haven’t yet developed the conscious competence to build dungeons that won’t derail their game in some fashion.

While I’ve tried attacking the problem from many angles over the years, one of my latest and most successful breakthroughs was realizing that most dungeons can be broken down into distinct “units” of gameplay, and that if I could develop an understanding of just how these units worked, I could develop a working methodology for designing dungeons regardless of how large or complex they might be.

After examining the conventions of videogames, escape rooms, theme parks, and even playgrounds, I ended up using the term “ playspace” to refer to these modular blocks of dungeon creation. It’s far easier to design a dungeon as a number of interlocked playspaces than room by room, and it's likewise easier for our players to remember a few evocative backdrops and their associated options, rather than trying to memorize the layout of a structure.

Each playspace is meant as a significant chunk of dungeon material, playing host to atleast one significant encounter (puzzles, combats, skill challenges etc) with an associated number of minor encounters of different types for variety. Players might face monster lairing at the top of an old mineshaft, then fuss around the surrounding structures looking for a way to get the old elevator mechanism working. They might be collecting clues to solve a puzzle, only for the ghosts of the past to present elements of the dungeon’s backstory, along with a few hints.

These encounters can take place over multiple interconnected rooms which are grouped together as a sort of thematic “bite” of the larger structure. A “kitchens” playspace might include the kitchen itself, several storerooms, a wine cellar, and servants quarters where as a “battlements” playspace could be made up of the crumbling exterior of a fortress, a watchtower, armoury, guardpost, and a chamber beneath that the structure has crumbled into.

Below the cut I’m going to get into the three general types of features that make up a playspace and how best to chain them together to make a great dungeon, but to do that I'm going to need a lot of extra room and some god awful diagrams I made myself.

I want to use the playground as a visual metaphor for the idea of playspaces, so bear with me (and my sup par digital art skills) because I think you’re going to catch on quick.

Every playspace is made up of three main types of features: Hurdles, Diversions, and Slides

Hurdles are a soft barrier to the party’s progression, everything from a stuck door to a cliff that needs climbing, to a mysterious message that hints at a hidden passage. Hurdles are meant to be solved, but they take some gumption on the party’s behalf before they can be passed outright. The use of multiple hurdles can offer an element of risk/reward as the party decides which path to go down next, and can also softly encourage exploration before progression, if the hurdle is implied to be risky or one way. A dungeon playspace that was nothing but hurdles would be a boring slog, trudging between one challenge and the next, so as useful as they are, it’s important to put breaks between them.

Diversions break up the dungeon by offering stuff to poke and playwith, in many cases obscuring the most obvious route forward behind a number of minor steps and false starts. Rooms to search, environmental stories to uncover, hints about upcoming challenges, oneoff combats or social encounters with minor dungeon denizens. You’ll want to give your party a few varied diversions every playspace, some of which will be pure set dressing, while others are more substantial. At the same time, don’t swamp them with options. The average person can keep about four things in mind at a time and if one of those things is the party’s mission at hand, you don’t want to risk them forgetting about important elements.

Slides are direct and one way paths of progression: a fight with a miniboss that blocked access to the next floor, the rope bridge snapping and dropping the party into the flooded cavern level below, pulling the relic from the altar and summoning a horde of “get the fuck out of here” ghosts that chase the party back to the entrance. Some slides are obvious, others are hidden and require discovery, a few of them might trigger unexpectedly and force the party to circle back around to where they were to either leave the dungeon or get back on track. The most important thing about slides is that they require setup, using hurdles and diversions to build the party’s expectations before delivering catharsis, the slow anticipation of the rollercoaster going up that first hill is what makes the drop after so thrilling.

Now lets talk about how to mix these features ( and other playspaces) to make a larger dungeon

Imagine you were a kid looking at this playground and assessing your options of what to do next: Even before you get onto the structure itself you’re always presented with a variety of options on what you might want to do at any moment.

Lets add a goal, some basic lock-and-key design, and imagine this playground is the ruins of a crumbling fortress

Now we’re getting into some interesting exploration: A group that pokes around the tube (crumbling outbuildings) and finds key B might have a significant lead on getting to the goal, but only if they think to climb up the balance beam ( a tough climb up a crumbling section of wall), choose to avoid the slide that will send them back to the ground ( a tough fight with an weight sentry), and get lucky in choosing which hallways to explore next.

Another group that takes the more head on approach might try for the stairs only finding their direct way forward blocked, having to either engage in multiple hurdles before finding either the shortcut A, or stumbling into the combined slide/hurdle miniboss that guards access to Key C. After reaching the goal, since they didn’t find key B, their desire not to retrace all their steps and previous hurdles is going to lead them straight into that weight.

And here you can see how three very basic play spaces and a little forethought can make for a super interesting exploration based dungeon crawl. Give each zone a unique identity within the larger concept of the dungeon, and add some thematic challenges/encounters, and you’ve given both yourself and your party atleast a few sessions worth of classic delving fun.

As a side note: I feel like this term playspace is a bit more useful than “level “ which divides one section of the dungeon by difficulty rating and maybe theme, but isn’t very useful when it comes to imagining the structure when designing a dungeon top down. Likewise, when I think of fun and well designed dungeons in say.. The legend of zelda, the levels in those dungeons are made up of multiple interconnected play spaces, so I think the concept stands on its own.

#dungeon design #dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #5e #dm advice #dm tip #dm tips #dm tools #writing advice #drafting an adventure #d&d mechanics #homebrew mechanic

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flower-radio · 3 months

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mars throughout different games (overly long explanation for different design aspects under the cut)

from left to right:

Atlas Ravelle, age 16 (2263, Pre-Lone Star) - A very passionate and sweet kid from [unnamed settlement surrounding vault 18], often sitting on the ramp to the town's guardpost playing the guitar, while his younger brother learns to shoot from the town's sniper. He wears a white button-up and a vault suit tied around his waist, because most of the clothes they have are for people taller than he is. Wears a perpetual smile that most residents find to be charming, if a bit creepy at times.

Mars Ravelle, age 24 (2271, Mid-Lone Star) - Met at the Stop, Mars first seems to be completely unable to talk, but traveling with him you quickly realize this isn't the case. He is covered in burns that are quite fresh and are not healing properly at all, though he doesn't complain about it. His clothes were all from his time at the stop, his vest having a large spade on the back to signify his role at the lowest caste. In canon, Ronnie chooses to tell him that he can reclaim the symbol, as an ace up their sleeve, though there is the option to get him to stop wearing the vest entirely. This takes place just after he and Ronnie join the Brotherhood of Steel. Weapon isn't visible because it's covered by his hair, but he carries a standard plasma rifle, given to him by Ronnie.

Mars Ravelle, age 35 (2282, Barely post-New Vegas) - After being shot in the head (twice), going blind in one eye, being lobotomized, and reuniting with his brother, Mars has got a lot going for him. the vest and belt make their return from his Lone Star design, plus the Brotherhood shoulderpad. He's finally got a pip-boy of his own, and carries 3 visible weapons: the bladed gauntlet, the sonic emmiter, and a sniper rifle. He wears a pair of cowboy boots with each card houses embroidered onto them, which he did himself sometime before the start of New Vegas.

Mars Ravelle, Age 40 (2287, Mid-Fallout 4) - Replacing the Sole Survivor as the protagonist of this entry, Mars' outfit is changed quite a bit to make an adjustment to the Commonwealth's environment. His hair is only half pulled up now, but he no longer has bangs to fall into his face. He wears a utility belt for much more pocket space, as well as no visible weapons (aside from his sniper rifle, again blocked by his hair). The vest is gone, but the spade element is retained in his design through the charm that hangs off one of the decorative buttons on his jacket. The jacket itself is hand embroidered gold on the bottom edge, and fur lined throughout to be warm, since the Commonwealth is much colder than the Mojave or Central Texas. He also has an optional pair of glasses that were given to him sometime in 2283, that he wears only when he deems it safe because he doesn't want to scratch or break them.

#mars ravelle #fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #fallout 4 #fo4 #courier six #courier 6 #fallout 4 oc #fo4 oc #fnv oc #fallout oc #flower art

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nichestartrekkie0-0 · 21 days

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Here's the first chapter of my long fic!

(Image taken from Pinterest)

@indignantlemur for all the good ideas and for helping me workshop this! (Some of their Andorian headcanons make an appearance, the girls who get it- get it)

Words: 1.3k

Summary: 25-year-old Hannah (OC) from 2007 San Francisco wakes up from cryo-sleep in Andoria- cue chaos

Rating: teen for language and cryo-sleep kidnapping stuff (she's ok just a popsicle)

(Aka, this is how Hemmer met his wife back in the 2240's. Not a single shred of canon in here)

Part One, Hannah: Super Secret Government Bullshit in Antarctica

She didn’t expect to wake up in a tube. She’d woken up in plenty of weird places back in college; the quad, the library, McDonalds, and once inside Justice– the kids clothing store.

The tube was new.

Hannah shook it off. She must have gotten into some coked-up mess that was definitely her fault or her creation. Not the first time with that experience either.

However, the tube opening with a hiss to a bunch of guys in lab coats sent her over the edge. She’d seen Saw and 28 Weeks Later. Dudes in crisp white lab coats did not mean good things.

If there was anything Hannah was good at, it was bailing herself out. She had always been able to save her own skin- not like anyone else would come to save her anyway.

So, she made the logical decision to run.

Kicking and screaming, she flung herself out of the tube, shoving her way through the throng of people and out into the hallway.

Door door door! Exit! Escape-

She turned around to freeze.

The alien was definitely new.

She was tall, blue, and most certainly not what Hannah expected. Independence Day had ruined any hope of peaceful aliens for the eleven-year-old Hannah. That, and it had also ruined microwave corndogs, as she had almost hurled her snack up after finishing the movie.

Spinning around, she decided she didn’t have time for aliens.

She had to get out.

A glance out the nearest window proved it to be winter and Hannah cursed loudly. She needed shoes and a coat to get anywhere, and she was in a dingy hospital robe.

She turned back around. Maybe she did have time for aliens.

Promptly, she fell to the floor. Pretending to play dead was a somewhat old trick, but she hoped it would work.

It did.

The alien rushed over, jabbering something in a language that sounded foreign to her. Hannah had studied business to get a fashion career job- linguistics was not her thing.

Neither was statistics, but she had managed to bluff her way through that class.

Hannah swiftly grabbed the nearest pole-looking thing and held it to the woman's head. Threatening what looked like a nurse was not good for her image, but she’d live. She’d been the subject of many rumors and the unfortunate muse of many bad photos.

I mean, who the fuck uses a Polaroid in 2007?

The nurse froze and Hannah gestured to her shoes. Pointing at Hannah and her own feet, the nurse sighed and took off her slippers.

Whether or not the nurse was just being indulgent to who she assumed to be a crazy patient, Hannah didn’t know. She didn’t much care either.

As she pulled on the shoes, she spied a coat hanging on a nearby rack.

Good enough.

She grabbed it and threw it on as she descended a nearby stairwell. The walls had directions on them in English and some odd swirly language- but at least she knew where the lobby was.

As she sprinted through the lobby, she found a guardpost at the entrance with a checkpoint. Barriers were a bitch to jump over, but she had done it a bunch of times on the subway when she forgot her train pass.

So, she did the obvious solution.

She made a break for it.

The guards yelled and cursed in the odd language again, but she didn’t care. The only thing she needed was to get out of the crazy science experiment building.

The aliens’ opinion of her was irrelevant.

The door opened to the biggest blast of cold she had ever experienced. Her hometown was San Francisco. Snow was the herald of an apocalypse.

The frigid blast definitely felt like the apocalypse.

So, she knew she wasn’t home. She must have been in New York or something-

She scoffed.

Or Antarctica.

Hannah continued on, running through the streets of the odd city. The buildings looked alien, everything looked alien.

Ok. Secret society of aliens in Antarctica. Peachy.

Then, a miracle.

She stopped in the middle of the road she had been sprinting on.

The…White House?

The building in front of her was almost an exact replica; columns and Roman architecture and everything. The only thing missing was the American flag.

If anyone can help- it’d probably be a human who’s not a nutjob in a lab coat.

To be frank, Hannah didn’t like the government much. She’d seen the 2003 ‘Desert Storm Part 2’ in Iraq. She’d seen the effects of Vietnam, Kuwait, and Bagdad on the soldiers who came home, on her friends, on her family.

She didn’t want to get buddy-buddy with any government guy, but if she was to get out of Secret Antarctica, she’d have to swallow more than a few comments.

Not her forte, but she’d bite her tongue.

So, she ran up the steps and inside.

The door swung open to reveal…more aliens. Not a single human in attendance. Whatever they were doing- it wasn’t good.

A group clothed in armor immediately put their hands on their weapons and started shouting at her in the odd language. The room descended into chaos.

Hannah sighed heavily. If she was going to go, she was going to go out with a weapon in her hands. Damn God, damn the bureaucracy, and damn the aliens.

Glancing around, she found a weird-looking saw on the wall.

Perfect. A saw up against guns and bullets. Oh well, Valhalla it is.

She lamented the irony of a war-hating bitch going up against a bunch of clearly trained soldiers, but hey c’est la vie.

Or– in English– life is shit.

She brandished the weapon, yelling at the soldiers to come closer.

“Fuck you! You wanna shoot me!?” She cried, desperately trying to control her tears, “Come on! Shoot me you fucks!”

Her voice cracked on the last word.

Damn it. Not representing the ‘bad bitch’ community very well, am I?

A man yelled from the back of the crowd, pushing his way through.

“Stop it! Put your weapons down! This is not the way!” He called forcefully, shoving the last guard aside.

Hannah gasped a little, something deep within her mind clicking. It was almost like she’d seen him before- a million times even– despite knowing she’d never met him.

He wasn’t like the blue guards. He wasn't like any of the aliens she’d seen so far.

He was pale, tall, and dressed in what looked like traditional clothes of some remotely familiar Earth culture. Even more interesting, he was blind.

His hands held no weapon, instead, they were raised in a calming gesture.

“It’s ok.” He said softly, pushing his way in front of the guns, “You’re going to be ok.”

Her gut screamed in terror, but her mind was calm. Completely. Like she had just woken up from a nice nap or was drinking coffee at a cute cafe and certainly not in the range of sci-fi suped-up guns.

He was pretty. His face reminded her of the stars or the moon. His eyes were fog on the ocean. Somehow, deep within her mind, she knew he was safe.

Then, she surprised herself.

She stepped forward and turned the weapon around, holding the blade to him.

Handle first.

The crowd gasped, each guard frantically looking between the tan Earth woman and the tall man. Despite the apparent alarm, she only stepped closer– within arms reach of the man– still offering the blade.

His breath hitched.

He only said one thing in response.

“Eh-uh.”

She had no idea what the fuck that meant.

#star trek #star trek headcanon #star trek strange new worlds #star trek snw #star trek andorian #aenar #why is my brain like this #my fic

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naerwenia · 1 year

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Frozen Sea, part 1 of 2 - Simon “Ghost” Riley x f!Reader

18+, smutty at the end, 6200+ words

Blowjob, deepthroating, fingering, mask stays on, some Dominant/submissive themes and kinks.

Ghost has made it back to the British army, working as a Captain and an instructor in Special Forces. He takes part in a UN military exercise in the ass end of nowhere (aka Finland) and meets a young woman he finds more and more interesting as the week goes by.

Some cultural context: In Finland we have Soldiers’ Home, Sotilaskoti, which has everything from a small library to computers and a small cafe, where soldiers can go to do something else, have a bit of fun and relax. Each garrison has their own small Soldiers’ Home, and the place is known for their doughnuts and other pastries. It’s run by volunteers, which I used to be. It’s been a few years so I don’t actually remember all the details like how much the coffee and pastries were.

Also, looking through pics of Ghost’s gear was a weird exercise in trying to decipher what was the need for all the straps, why is he carrying shotgun shells while having only a pistol as a weapon, why is he not having things tied to his belt, but mostly it was fine, he’s just prepared for anything that may come. I don’t actually know much about military or the related vocabulary, but tried my best!

A frozen sea opened before his eyes. He could see the otherside, the mainland, and the ship that was supposed to come back to get him and his group, but it seemed like something was keeping the ship back. It was supposed to be back in five minutes, yet it hadn’t even started the journey back. A Finnish soldier was in his guardpost, speaking to a phone, but Simon couldn’t understand anything through the wind and snow. Then light footsteps came from behind, a young woman trekked through snow to the harbour of an army garrison, panting heavily after trying to run straight into the wind. Her face was red, at least what skin was visible, as the woman had layers of clothing around her, clearly very familiar with the weather. Her eyes met Simon’s, and a small smile made it to her lips, judging by the lines forming in the corners of her eyes.

“It seems I made it in time! I just want to get home as soon as possible,” she told Simon, who let out a sigh.

“Unfortunately the boat seems to be late, so you have to make it in the cold a little longer”, Simon answered, a bit sorry for the woman that wasn’t here for the endurance training like he and his squad had been, but she seemed to be more than prepared to wait for her ride home, as her response to the news was to sigh dramatically and pull the scarf higher, over her nose. Simon pulled his balaclava further up too, fixing it to not feel like it was sliding down his nose. While it seemed to everyone that the mask was part of his face, he was sometimes reminded by the weather it really wasn’t, especially when wet snow was coming down and the wind from the sea was merciless.

The woman took a few steps closer to Simon, just to stand close. She didn’t continue the conversation, just standing there in his vicinity in a comfortable silence, looking at the man on the phone, looking to hear if something was wrong soon. To Simon it seemed like she wanted to ask something, but the snow and wind made it almost impossible to have a relaxed conversation without shouting, and then it would not be that relaxed, but it only took a few minutes to resolve the issue, as a more important issue came up.

“Sorry to inform you but the boat seems to be having difficulty starting up, so it might be better if you stayed on the island for the night. Sorry about that. We have to see what we can do about that, but there’s few rooms empty in the building next to the main one.”

-----------------------

Ghost could drink the free coffee or tea with the lunch and dinner they were provided, but he preferred to join other company leads at the cafe. Not just for the better tea and the importance of socialising with other professionals, but also to see the girl there. She was funny and her attention felt good to him, a masked man in his forties, as she was clearly pretty knowledgeable of military history and had a sharp tongue paired with a keen eye, but more importantly she was gentle and understanding. While she could not give him all her attention all the time, and he didn’t want to seem like he went out of his way to spend his time with her, she took extra steps to have a short exchange with him every day, even went out of her way to get him earl grey tea.

When they met for the first time, she tilted her head, checking him from toes to the top of his head, clearly thinking about something. Cute, he thought, not too keen on dwelling on a random woman working the counter, so he kept on pouring himself some coffee since the tea in a pot was green and the small selection of tea bags were some artificially flavoured things he did not want to try.

“You’re a private military contractor, right?” she suddenly asked him, making him stop and look back at her to get a better look. The woman was still just a regular person, dressed in a dress and an apron, hair held back by a bow.

“You’re not wearing standard issue gear, while the rest of your troop seems to have a mix of British Army gear with Blackhawk straps and pouches, while you have a custom radio setup and… just a regular leather belt? Also, you have pouches for three different types of ammo. You’re here to train others, right?” She tried to explain herself, going on about his setup, noting things that were not clearly visible and even connecting him and his group, even when he arrived alone. To say the least, he was impressed.

“Also, no regular military recruit is allowed to just hang around with a skull mask for no reason”, she laughed, making him smile a bit under his mask, as her comment was somewhat true, and very poignant.

“I’m back in the British army, and yes, a trainer might be the closest word for what I do, so you’re correct”, Ghost said, letting her keep her wide smile. “Do you happen to have…” he started again, but she cut him off.

“No, we don’t have English breakfast or Earl Grey, but I’ll get them for tomorrow evening. Most of the tea is only for show, people here prefer the coffee”, she said, clearly having repeated the line today many times, as the international training exercise had brought many different groups to the relatively small military grounds in Finland. What it lacked in size was made up for in the challenging weather and environment.

“Seems like I’m not the only one picky about their tea”, Simon said.

“I should have just brought the tea with me, we knew the training mission would start today, but my job is to bake, not keep track of the tea”, she sighed, and told him the coffee would be a euro, including refills if he wanted.

“How about the doughnut?” Ghost asked in a spur of the moment, realising he hadn’t had too many sweets in a few years, never really having a sweet tooth, but since these were freshly baked (by her), he might give them a try, and judging by the smile she gave to him, clearly proud of her handiwork, he knew they wouldn’t be that bad, except maybe for his heart.

“2,50, and these are just made, steaming hot inside most likely, so be careful”, she answered, grabbing one from the display and giving it to Ghost on a plate. A perfectly round piece of dough fried in oil and covered in sugar that he took to the table with the black coffee. Other team leads were already deep in conversation, talking about the happenings today, and how they thought their companies did, what might be next, and some early miscommunications that might be beneficial to note between different international troops. At the table he became Ghost once again, only interested in making sure the troops always knew others had their backs, and making sure miscommunications didn’t threaten the mission. Only thing he was a bit uncomfortable with was how to define the chain of command when the operations were multinational and bigger than one squad made of people of different nationalities, as those were becoming harder and harder to justify. Accountability was easy to talk about, but difficult to implement, just like trying to figure who were the ones who should be giving orders. While he might be stubborn sometimes, he wasn’t dumb, and shared some of his own experience with the others, noting it might have been just a cultural miscommunication, since Americans tended to be more obnoxious and self-important, making the whole table laugh. He was right, other captains assured him, as having a random US force just dropping to a place and taking control of the place and chain of command was what they were known for, disregarding the international protocols. It was hard for Ghost to see the humour in the situation, it was more frustrating than anything else, but at least it captured the American mindset and led to a more in depth discussion on the matter.

The next day, she was not there behind the counter, and Ghost felt a bit let down, but knew it might be better if she wasn’t there all the time. She must have life outside, and no matter how hard he tried to stop his thought there, few words made it to the end. ‘If I could be there...’

“Missed me?” she asked suddenly, and Ghost almost spit out all the tea he had tried to drink slowly and spilled some of it in his lap, startled by the hand on his head trying to mess with hair that was covered with balaclava like the rest of his head. She smiled sweetly, clearly knowing what she had done, and grabbed a bunch of paper towels to help him clean himself, drying his pants the best she could. However, it’s not like she didn’t know the pants he was wearing were weatherproof, so her attempts to clean him were for nothing really, most of the liquid just kind of slid down his legs to the chair and on the floor. She knew what she was doing, and he made no move to stop her, pretending her help was necessary, even if it only managed to make him feel more aroused than anything. If she ever wanted to be a spy, she would be too obvious yet endearing enough to get anything out of a man. Yet here she was, in a country up in the ass of nowhere, volunteering to bake doughnuts for the local garrison and wiping tea off the pants of a British soldier.

That evening one of the Finnish instructors had stopped to talk with her, and Ghost was patiently waiting for his turn while sitting with other Captains. His attention was on the discussion at hand, but his eyes drifted to the side, looking if she had a minute for him, but apparently it wasn’t too obvious, as no one commented on his quick glances around. But it still felt wrong, as a twinge of jealousy gripped his heart when she laughed at something the man in front of her said. That was all it took for Ghost to stand up and walk to her, and to his surprise she moved her gaze to him and smiled widely, delighted to see him and ready to give all her attention to him, while he was ready to make her beg for it.

-------------------------------

“I can make some tea, if you’d like?” she suggested while looking for her keys to the cafe’s backroom, adding “For the whole squad if you wish, since they had to stand there waiting for the ship too. You all must be freezing!” To her right, Ghost was looking at her red fingers rummaging through her bag, before looking up at his squad carrying their bags and gear to the empty garrison building for the night. “I’ll have to ask, but I’m sure they would like that. See you in twenty”, he calmly stated, following in the footsteps of his men.

It didn’t even take that long for Ghost to come back, knocking on the door when she was still in the middle of unwrapping herself of all the winter clothes, but the tea was ready and waiting. She opened the door, making sure to let him in as quickly as possible, though she had to struggle a bit to get the door to open, the storm and wind tried to keep the door closed tightly, like the nature itself wanted to isolate her, but Ghost helped to keep the door open wide enough for him to fit through and then helped her pull the door closed.

As soon as the door closed and Ghost caught a breath, she started dusting the snow off him, pushing herself up on her toes to reach his shoulders a bit better, only to realise she had trapped herself between the door and him, a man as large as the door and definitely more intimidating and unmovable. Like snow, she brushed those thoughts off, hoping he didn’t try to interpret the small hesitation as anything deeper, just the cold freezing her in place for just a moment.

“No friends?” she asked, hoping to start a conversation.

“I’m not good with people, and the boys decided to just get sleep”, Ghost joked flatly, getting a small chuckle from her. “More tea for me”.

“Just remember to take your shoes off, or you get just green tea”, she told him, manoeuvring out from the narrow gap between him and the door, having sufficiently warmed up by his presence and the realisation that she and Ghost were having a cup of tea together here, in a kitchen. A week was not a long time when the longest conversation you could have was around half an hour twice a day, and more often than not they only had the 5-minute conversations while she put the kettle on to get him fresh tea. Both of them had responsibilities and she understood his were actually important, but now he was here just by chance, with nowhere else to be for hours, and for some reason, just her and him.

Ghost was interested in her, and seeing how small she was compared to him when almost pinned to the door, how she had to get on her toes to reach his shoulders, it excited him. If he knew her better or was sure she saw him as more than an interesting friend, if he was younger and bolder, he might have pinned her to the door and kissed her, but for now he was content just being with her a moment longer. He might be dominant, but he was not pushy, and knowing his partner wanted it was part of the fun. They might struggle, try to push him off, and he might play with the boundaries, but he would make sure his partner was okay. All of it was emotionally difficult for both more often than not, and while he got a kick out of being the dominant one, mentally and physically, he wasn’t one to break others, it was for pleasure. Ghost knew he was flirting with his dark side when indulging in power exchange, but also knew that he would never find satisfaction in a master/slave dynamic, as there was more to a relationship than just submission and control.

She had poured them steaming hot tea, added a pinch of milk and half a teaspoon of sugar in his mug, and her own cup only got a hint of honey, while Ghost took off his coat and boots, revealing he had a basic black shirt and black trousers under his army greens. Both cups were a faded shade of pink, and while there were other colours too, she thought he would look cute with a pink cup, and to her delight, he looked cute with the cup in his hands, as it felt out of place in the hands of a broad man dressed in all black. For the first time, the girl had more than a second to look at his face, or more specifically his lips, when he moved the mask up, just enough to let him drink, and he let the mask stay up.

There was a moment of silence between them when she was entranced by the small bit of his face she could finally see clearly, not distracted by the noises and movement around, but was brought back down as she realised he might want to sit on a chair or something. Close to a small panic, she looked around for something comfortable for him, but he stopped her.

“Anything is fine”, he told her, seeing the slight panic on her face, and he pointed to a pillow in a corner, “Do you have another?”

A sigh left her lungs, kind of glad he might just understand her better than she gave him credit for. She put her cup on a table and went to a small closet, looking around there a bit before pulling out a flat pillow and throwing it on the floor next to her own pillow, inviting Ghost to sit next to her on the floor. Before she could go back to get her tea, Ghost grabbed it and brought it to her, waiting for her to sit down before giving the cup back to her. He joined her on the floor.

“So, do you want me to call…” she started but didn’t get to finish the question.

“Simon”, he answered and took a sip of his tea, his tone noting it was not a discussion.

“So, Simon, where were you supposed to be tonight?”

A sigh, she knew that one too well, feeling the answer before any words were said.

“Nowhere really. On a plane back to base, but I’m actually glad I got a chance to spend time with someone other than one of the men”, he told her, and she smiled back with her heart, her face letting him know she felt the same.

“I promised I would come back here tomorrow to organise the pantry again, but it seems like I have more than enough time for that. There’s not much at home, computer and books, and since I can’t work, I have time to help here”, she said.

“They must appreciate that”.

“They do, but spending most of my time with women between 50 and 60 is a bit lonely. Most of them had careers and good marriages and fancy houses, while I’m just someone who just wants to volunteer”.

He knew the feeling of isolation and knew how difficult it was to try and connect to others when the only thing connecting you was where you were, job, or something inconsequential like nationality or gender.

“I know that feeling. I rarely visit my family anymore. It sometimes feels like the only thing connecting us is blood and trauma”, he said, and before she could say anything he stopped her, “Don’t say sorry, it’s all in the past, and they are happier now.” A pause.

“But you have nothing to tell them when you see them?”

“Kind of”, he said, tilting his head in thought, “or it’s something they should not worry about.”

“But you have no one else to talk those things through, since those you know would understand were there with you and you don’t want to make them live through it again?” she offered, turning her head to search his gaze, wanting to see what he was thinking. He was looking away, so she kept on talking, sensing she was on the right track. “It helps to talk, it helps to find the words to describe what happened, to make sense of it all. I know you can just think about it, but saying things aloud is sometimes needed, or writing, that helps too”, she offered before moving her gaze away from him, taking a sip of her tea, before quickly adding, “I’m not asking you to tell me right away, not here, but if you ever want to talk, I’m just a call away”.

Her words reminded him that they lived in different worlds, different countries, yet he felt like he might be able to talk to her, open up and be actually heard, but that wasn’t for today. The longing at that moment was for closeness, for human connection, and she was so close. All the thoughts in his head were screams, and he wished

“You think too much”, he said, drinking the rest of his tea. Setting the cup down and lifting his arm to pull her into his arms, he let her rest her head against him while he wrapped his arm around her, reaching to pet her head a few times before putting his arm on her waist. There was no way for him to actually know if she wanted this as much as he did, but she let herself be pulled into his arms and let herself rest on him, letting out a long sigh.

“Don’t say–”

“I’m sorry”, she completed his sentence with a chuckle while he just groaned. Finishing her tea, she reached over his lap to put her cup next to his on the floor. For just a moment, she hesitated, stopping her hand from moving away from the cups, but she found her courage to take his free hand, lifting it to his lap before entwining her fingers with his. A small gesture that had so much meaning in it at that moment. If it had been anyone else, it might have felt like an empty gesture, but something so simple from her was soothing, a message she wanted to be there with him at that moment, just as he wanted her. A silent wish to be close, stay like this for a little longer.

Compared to Simon’s, her hand was so small and soft, but they fit together at that moment, just as she fit under his arm and in his embrace. Simon could feel her heavy breath and racing heart, and he did his best to calm her, stroking her hair and breathing steadily. It was as much for her as it was for him, since he had noticed their intertwined hands were resting on his stomach, close to his hips, and he could almost feel the weight of her hand on his hardening cock. The moment felt sincere, serene, yet both could tell in their minds that there was an undercurrent of need and expectation, and while she was still holding on to her walls, Simon needed to hear her, hear her say if he was right to see the same desire behind her gestures as he had burning in him.

Simon could have been gentler, more subdued in his communication, but for once he let his instinct guide him. Slowly he withdrew his fingers from her grasp, savouring the softness of her hand and movements, but he never let his fingers leave her skin, just dragging the tips of his fingers over her hand to roughly wrap his hand around her wrist. To her, the grasp was burning, almost painfully tight, yet his gesture was like a silent whisper that he knew what she needed, what she wanted, and as he guided her hand down, just a hair above his crotch, letting her take the last step to feel him, feel his arousal. Both let out a gasp, and she quickly turned to look him in the eyes, questioning, and he gave her his answer as a nod, encouraging her to feel him.

A shy smile made it to her lips, letting her fingers explore his body a bit more with each stroke. She could feel the heaviness of his erection, only hidden by the fabric of his trousers, as the shape of it became more obvious by the second. At the same time her eyes were fixed on his face, watching the shudders of pleasure reach his face, his eyes close slightly and lips open when her touch was the most pleasurable. Still, he found himself wanting something else, and to go there, he took her mouth for a kiss. It was rough, dominant, and left her breathless, moving her lips to get more of him and air, but only got his lips on her, letting his lips claim her, feeling their way around her mouth and lips. His lips were dry, rough, but most of all, pleading for her soft embrace. As their lips connected, he finally felt her connecting to him, pushing herself to meet his lips half-way, and like his, her lips were pleading silently for him to take control, hoping she had understood him. The kisses were indulgent, full of longing, and arousal, wanting to taste each other, but Simon wanted to feel his teeth on her skin, bite the skin, leave marks on her, and she wished he would hurt her. All she wanted was him to push her down and leave marks that would take days to heal.

Simon’s lips trailed down, kissing the corner of her mouth, to her jaw, touching it, feeling how it curved, how it connected to the skull, how he could control her every move just by keeping her head in place with two fingers, one on each side of her jaw. There was a satisfying sense of control in his grip, and as she whimpered, it was like he could taste her anticipation with a hint of fear. No matter how much he wanted it, how much he enjoyed the taste, he let his lips leave her skin, withdrawing himself enough to see her face but close enough he could hear her voice, almost sure it would be more of a whisper.

“Tell me to continue, and I will, I’ll go as far as you like and you don’t have to say a word as long as you now tell me you want this”, Simon said, hoping he was right.

“Please”, she whispered, looking to melt back in his arms, wanting him to push her to the floor, but her whisper was not enough for Simon.

“Words”, he said, unconsciously already slipping to his dominant voice, but it did the trick.

“Please, take me, Simon. I want you, I want you to be rough, just take me”, she managed to get out after few short and shallow breaths, sounding a lot like she hadn’t ever said those words actually aloud. The need mixed with slight hesitancy to actually say those words was sweet in her voice, but he accepted her words, ready to give in to the pleasure. There was still one thing he wanted to say: “If you want me to stop, tap me three times. Understood?”

With her nod, he pulled his mask back in place and pushed her to the ground, pushing her dress up, revealing her simple black tights that to Simon’s delight were soaked already. With just one finger Simon teased her through her tights and underwear, yet pushed hard enough for her to feel it, making her squirm on the floor. That was enough teasing, neither of them could really take much more if they were honest, so Simon pulled her tights off with her underwear, as she helped him by moving her butt a bit, but Simon pushed her back down, keeping her pinned to the floor. He didn’t need her help.

After Simon removed those pieces of clothing covering her sex, clothing that kept him from directly looking at or touching, he moved to be between her legs, keeping her from closing them, which she unconsciously tried to do right after he stripped her. Instead, Simon took her leg over his left shoulder, keeping it tightly in place as he roughly teased her clit before pushing that same finger inside her. The sudden motion made her moan, almost scream, but it was clearly from pleasure, as her walls pulsed around his finger. Wet noises mixed with her moans as he started to move his finger inside her, while his thumb tried its best to stimulate her clit. It had been a while, but the moans she let out and the way she clamped down on his finger gave him the response he was looking for, and with a smile, he pushed another finger in her. There was a longer moan and his fingers gathered even more wetness, every slight movement bringing some of it out, dripping onto his hand and then to the floor. He needed to hear her cry more, moan more, so he curled his fingers inside her, eliciting different moans from her. Uncurling fingers, pulling out and back in, pushing them a bit further, twisting them to hit a spot that made her moan louder and curl her toes. His movements also made her writhe on the floor, making him take a tighter grip on her, using just a bit of his strength to make her stay still. He knew what he was doing, all he needed was her submission, even if he needed to help her give it to him, and hearing how she was left breathless by just his fingers, it was just enough for now.

The way her hips moved into his hands was making it clear to him she was close, and while his plan was to make her wait, earn the release, the plan was re-evaluated and modified to fit both of their needs better. As she was closing the edge, she was almost sure he might do a bit of edgeplay with her, but he did the opposite. Rather than leading her close to the edge of an orgasm and not giving it, Simon’s movements became rougher, harsher, as his hands movement became faster, he pushed as deep as he could and even added a third finger inside her, thrusting quicker. She was almost there, so close, just a small push away. The thumb on her clit did not stay there, as his movements were too erratic, but was replaced by Simon’s tongue, sending her over the edge, letting her come undone under his touch after being on the edge of an orgasm. All she could do was moan, delighted by the feeling, finally being able to let go, and cum. The high was fantastic, endorphins running wild, and she could still feel him there, just staying still, looking up at her from between her legs. As much as Simon wanted to look at her from this viewpoint longer, admiring her as she let the orgasm come and take her, he had more to show her. First he let his tongue leave her clit, but not leave without a long lick to taste her, to memorise her taste and scent. Second, he tried removing his fingers, pulling them out slowly, but she was still tightly gripping them.

“Too much”, she said, not elaborating, so Simon stayed still as she tried to catch her breath, but found that even small movements of his fingers made her squirm. It was cute, all about her orgasm was cute, and that she was so sensitive after cumming on his fingers, fucking beautiful. So rather than go on, he put his head on her leg for a bit, looking at her gazing lovingly at him, still a bit shocked by all of this.

A sudden, quick motion withdrew Simon’s fingers from her pussy with a small squelch, still connecting his fingers to her pussy through her arousal, and all she could do was yelp. Simon got up to his feet, stepped over her as he looked down on her. He really didn’t need to make it so obvious how much larger he was, how broad his shoulders were, or how small she was even when compared to the shadow of him over her, but she enjoyed the subtle show of dominance and control, maybe even more than Simon doing it. Seeing her vulnerable was what made him tick at that moment, and he decided to toy with her a bit.

One leg on each side of her waist, he came down, squatting unceremoniously over her, eyeing her face. She seemed confused, but as he brought his still dripping wet fingers to her mouth, she accepted them into her mouth and used her tongue to clean his fingers, sucking them, and slightly moving her head to take them deeper. Rather than stuff her mouth with all three fingers, he put two in her mouth and used the third to smear her own fluids on her cheek, only to grab her jaw, keeping it still as he kissed her cheek, smearing his mask which he had moved back to cover his mouth. At the same time, she did her best to tease him with her tongue, moving it under his fingers, over and between them, but decided against being a bit bratty and nibbling his fingers, or even grazing her fingers against his skin. Simon set the tone and pace here, and her job was to enjoy it.

There was still something he wanted, something selfish. Removing his fingers from her jaw and mouth, he used both of his hands to move her to sit on her knees, back against the wall. While some other man might have let himself support himself on the wall, Simon knew exactly what he was doing. He trapped her between him and the wall, forcing her to be under his gaze and comply, but at the same time, he didn’t give her time to even try to help, to take some control by using her hands to remove his trousers. All he did was remove his belt and drop it beside him, before opening his pants and letting them fall down. Simon, however, decided it would be for the best if she had some time to feel him and touch his cock, maybe even take it to her mouth to get him slick all around before moving to take her pussy.

Like clockwork, she moved her hands to touch his cock, hidden inside his underwear, stroking it, feeling the shape, and hardness in her fingers, soon to be rammed down her throat. But before he could do that, she looked up, pleading for Simon to let her move his pants to the side to get a better look and feel, and like a merciful god, he let her. Moving his pants down just enough to let her see his length in its full glory, tip of it glistening with precum, girthy enough to look like it might just suffocate her, but she was more than ready, yet used a moment to lick it, try making it lubricated for better access to her throat, at least making the first few thrusts easier for both of them. For most of the time Simon was a patient man, but not right now, as it took only a few inquisitive mouthfuls and practice moves how far she could go unaided before he took control back to his hands.

Slipping one hand into her hair and grabbing it, positioning his hand between her head and the wall, so as to not unexpectedly hurt her by being rough, Simon loved the view. Her eyes rolled back as he pushed way deeper than she had tried, yet pulled back immediately to give her the air she so desperately needed, before starting to move bit by bit further with every move of his hips, testing her gag reflex and finding the sweet spot he kept pushing just a bit, getting her to give him a bit more every time. When he could feel her throat constricting, he pulled away, only leaving the head of his cock inside her mouth for her to suck on and pleasure with her tongue, and then slowly pushed back to the same depth, pinning her in her place between his hips and the wall.

To her, the sensation of choking on his cock and seeing only glimpses of him from the corner of her eye, but she could hear him, hear his quick breath and moans mixed in with his praises for her. Good girl, slut, cocksleeve, pretty princess, she could hear those words, but the thing that made her moan while deepthroating him were the small twitches of his cock she could feel on her tongue and in her throat, and her own moans made his dick twitch ever so slightly more. There was nothing more satisfying to her at that moment than feeling his arousal and adding to it, feeling how much Simon wanted her. It was much more than she could know, so much more, and he was stopping himself a step short of what he truly wanted, still testing he, but as she strained to open her mouth just a bit more for him to fit inside her mouth and kept back her gag, he knew she would be the one to help him indulge in his fantasies.

“Stay still”, Simon said, tightening his grip on her head before fucking her mouth quicker, with rougher, more violent thrusts he couldn’t stop, and at last, he pushed himself all the way in, making her gag around him as he came down her throat, but slowly withdrew from there to only have the head of his cock in her mouth. He was still cumming, coating her tongue, making sure she knew his taste and memorised it, and she did her part by letting it sit there while she did her best at cleaning him with her mouth, letting out a pop as his still hard cock left her lips. A swallow and she gave him a small kiss on the cock while he tried to catch his breath, finally letting himself be supported by the wall as he leaned to it. Rather than let him rest, she decided to tease him a bit more, running her tongue along his dick’s underside, the sides, even the tip with just the tip of her tongue. All Simon could think was cumming on her face, covering her bratty face with cum again and again, letting it drip down and mess her uniform, that green dress she wore everyday behind the counter, but for now he was content in looking at her satisfied face with mascara dripping down her cheeks with tears and sweat.

#smut #simon ghost riley #Simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #x reader #x f!reader

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re-ikrmso · 4 months

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this is just a new ish concept but. its so cool to me. like “wow how did i not see this before but like”.

you know with a story with eldritch beings you'd except a grandstanding world ending event to happen (well, it KINDA gets there but.)

they're taken care of. and then there's that second storyline coming in. that other being on the void. you cant let them escape right? or else they'd cause unfamthable damage, right?

right?

except they wouldn't. they'd just live life. they just want to live somewhat freely. to feel the sun and air again. to see life, while being able to keep over their obsessive guardpost.

so who cares? right? in comparasion to everything else that's happened

what's one life to lose?

and that's what Nameless is so scared of. Because there's all this fuss. There'd be so many complications for IF they just didn't give up and give what Nocide wanted.

I mean, what's one life in comparison to a being who did their best to hold a spirit of violence and fear back from wreaking more havoc (although unsuccessfully?) what's one life compared to someone who doesn't even have a name?

When it would be so much easier to throw them to the void and allow someone else who "deserves" a life more than them.

What then?

The final part of this story isn't about stopping some monster from destroying the world(kinda), it's about realizing that you don't NEED a reason to live. Just live. Just find joy. SO what? So what if you cannot remember anything? When you cry and sob, and that tarry vicious bile starts leaking--and you tell yourself you want, you want to live--you don't want to say goodbye

then it's not time to say goodbye. What's the value of a life? It's the life, the person itself. It seems so small compared to everything else, but that's also you. that could be anyone. it could've been Blue, It could've been Mangie. It just happened to be Nameless--is it the fact that ANY life could be so inconsequential enough to throw away that it's worth giving what Nocide wants? Or is it the justification that the person you'd throw to the dogs has no purpose? No name or soul? Maybe there isn't one.

So who cares?! They take the harder, more turbulent path just to save one life. Just to save one more person from madness and nonexistence.

#rt intervals #rt intervals worldbuilding notes #c!nameless #spoilers kinda #c!nocide #writing thoughts #ramble

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aegis-17 · 7 months

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Developed for some ongoing game plots i run with friends and others on Fallout 76.

The Wreckers; a motorized Raider gang out of Wheeling operating out of the toxic valley and, as of recently, the northern portions of the savage divide.

They often clash with the camps of the mothman cultists.

Haulers are usually the lowest of the Wrecker ranks, tasked as scouts looking for useful parts and salvage or as basic grunts and firepower for Raids. Most non veteran Wreckers have spent at least some amount of time as a Hauler before making their way up the ranks.

Wreckers make up the bulk of the Gang.

Almost always better armored and packing more firepower then Haulers, Wreckers tend to be the real muscle of a raid group and usually have some automotive or mechanical skill to them.

Wreckers tend to be found manning guardposts or recovering salvage.

Raidbosses are usually Veteran Wreckers from the original wheeling crew up north.

Brutal leaders with at least some pre-war trooper experience under their belts, they Lead most wrecker raid groups and attacks on settlements and cultist camps on the edge of the gangs terf.

Welders are, like raidbosses almost always veteran wreckers from the original wheeling crew.

Ex state trooper fleet mechanics, they're among the best mechanics and welding experts in the gangs ranks. Servicing their vehicles or assembling their camps.

They tend to wield heavily modified flamers

Boss Higgs is the Leader of wrecker group currently claiming terf to the north of Appalachia. An Ex Major of the state troopers, he is a veteran wrecker and led the gang when they first took over Wheeling and the highways around the city.

He currently has his sights set on the northern cultists.

#fallout #fallout76 #fo76 #fo76 photomode #fo76 screenshots #fallout oc #raider #raider gang #fallout raider #game photography #screenshot #photomode #gaming photography

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sassenashsworld · 18 days

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Preston : Don't

Deacon : What?

Preston : Whatever you were mean to do to my guardpost

Deacon : I was not mean to do whatever!

Preston : Why are you here then?

Deacon : To check

Preston : Check what?

Deacon : If you come too early

Preston : Jas! DON'T!

Jas : [unseen] *giggles*

#preston garvey #deacon #oc jasmine of the Commonwealth #fallout 4 #fallout #incorrect fallout 4 quotes #fo4 #deacon's festivities

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ruinakete · 2 months

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♡ (if you're still taking them!)

WHAT WOULD OUR MUSES' CHILD BE LIKE?・accepting! ( cw for canon character / muse death or murder )

THEY WILL KNOW HIM AS THE WINGS OF GRIEF.

"oh? him? no, he isn't from the village. at least, not what I've been told. neither is he human, by his horns, but oh he's just a darling young man! criminally handsome, i say! when we met, he kissed the back of my hand and offered to walk me home. uh, though, he did mention it was because I looked too incompetent to guide myself... oh, don't worry, he isn't rude all the time. in fact, I'd say he's most peaceful when tending to the pegasi we have. I've only seen him smile around animals actually... he even offers to take up the guardpost nearby to ensure their safety." ━━━ VILLAGE STABLE MAID, about ???

IN-GAME PROFILE,

CLASS: Fell Child

VERSION: specializes in LANCES, emphasizing MAGIC growth and high SPEED, granting him, too, better physical stats than most of his alternate siblings; the ability to transform and utilize BREATH weapons is easy to unlock, too

DESCRIPTION.

the last son of Lord Sombron, Zephia's biological offspring though mothered, too, by her partner, Caeda. many confuse him for a dashing knight; a role he happily takes to heart, as it blankets the weight of being a Fell Child and the burden he carries. though charming, his sharp tongue and sly wit tend to lessen the volume of his sociability; unfortunate, since he is a loving friend once a bond is recognized by him and another. this flaw comes with a cost, as he turns to others to bear the weight of his problems on behalf of being unable to carry the expectation of his bloodline alone. it is the easiest to find him in the stables of a nearby village, brushing the wings of a pegasus or curling against it as it lays to rest. usually, that is where his mothers would find him, asleep in the stall of a pleased pegasus.

APPEARANCE,

as a child of Sombron, his strongest genes would be those of his biological father's. bone-white hair that is kept straight, reaching his mid-back, though he curls the frayed ends every morning as part of his beauty routine. of a lighter tone than Zephia, he matches her in eye color, however, only one of his irises bears the right tint. his left iris is blue with an opposing pink highlight, while his right iris is only blue. ever since he was a young kid, he liked to joke that his bare blue eye was his lucky sight, as it was the same color as Caeda's eyes. to Zephia's strangely happy realization, her son was also born with crescent horns, though his are smaller and a life-changing event of grief snapped both of his horns at the tips.

apparel is a factor of appearance he used both of his mothers as inspiration. as though he were a pegasus knight, the placement of his armor and low-cut skirt are worn similarly to Caeda's own attire. buckles and bands accessorize his thighs, over the bare skin until it reaches his knee and lower leg, which are clothed with padded socks. though, instead of boots, he sticks to low heels, with twin golden charms hung over his ankles. the cuts of his sleeves and the flowy fabric borrowed come from the image of Zephia. he would wear a cropped top if it wasn't exposing such a vulnerable body part.

the virtue of an angel atop a pegasus mirrors that of his image, because of the color scheme and the modesty in which he holds himself. beautifully charming, he is not above using his appearance to get his way. whether it be getting into the stables at night or coaxing a human into trusting him, deception has become a second skin to the light in which he appears to be.

PERSONALITY,

if one was to be poetic, then he is the wolf beneath sheepskin; the monster in a knight's armor. there is no doubt that he has the ability to be better than what his mother has made him, but the question is whether or not he chooses to. as a child, he was a curious little thing, babbling questions as Caeda fed him in her lap or laying his head on the page of Zephia's tome as she read. such curiosity has led him to expect a lot from the world, for it to please and amuse him for as long as he lives.

there is one thing that limits his inherited hunger for power; the memory of Caeda. as he grew from infant to toddler, from kid to pre-teen, she stayed at his side, teaching him the delicate strings of life and the differences between right and wrong. if hurting others was wrong, then the urges he felt were wrong, too. and he kept to that lesson, biting back his instincts and forming them into harmless, blunt words. if he could not be nice, then he should not speak. but, if Zephia said to, the world would not be nice to him all the time. so, when should he appease the hunger in his chest? at every offense of the world, or only to those who asked for it?

his mothers were opposites and, first, he bent to the gentle voice of Caeda's parenting. he idolized her for her courage and strength, her ability to love and be loved. she, in a way, was everything he hoped to be. but centuries bled into centuries and the strict fist of Zephia's parenting would take effect easily in the confusion of his morals. he would take his kindness and wield it until it grew jagged and benefited him in the long run. mother was right, always, and he owed all he was to her for continuing to have faith in him despite his constant failure to understand.

now, as a young adult, his charm and tongue have sharpened naturally; everywhere he walks is a curiosity he commits to memory. to have lost someone has made him appreciate the little things in life, often comparing them to his mothers' taste. he treats everyone he meets as a potential pawn, as a default, useful only in what they can give him. this does not mean they will earn his immediate annoyance; a good person helps others recognize themselves, even if done with a heartless hand. for his heart is shrouded, far beyond encasing in light. only near those he bonded with will ever understand the constant solemn manner in which he condemns himself to.

HOUSEHOLD DYNAMIC,

even before he was born, Zephia and Caeda were at odds with one another. though they would care for each other, well into the Mage Dragon's pregnancy, there was a gap between external and internal love. to Zephia, she was at the top of the hierarchy within the household, but to Caeda, there was no ranking. and, as such, an animosity was unfurled with the birth of their son. when Zephia would handle him, Caeda had reason to worry, as her murmurs of the Fell Church and the burden of heritage began to grow a paranoia within his mind.

the wedge became known, fully, when their son was a kid, hardly in his teenage years. it was obvious that, beneath Caeda's gentle hand, he would never grasp a mastery over recognizing and controlling the hunger blossoming in his chest; only a dragon could teach a dragon how to bear his teeth. and Zephia wished to do just that, promising to deal a heavy hand against their son to show him the dangers of not controlling the weapon he could be.

as noble as her motherly heart, Caeda, dearest Caeda, rose to stop her lover's teaching. and that, in the common area of their home, was where Zephia's patience thinned and Caeda's life was torn from her body. when Mage Dragon left to find her kin, Fell Dragon found the limp body of his mother; his idol. the sorrow was immediate, mixing horribly with the confusion of losing another. this grief would only be recognized a century later, as a teenager, when their son helped a village girl mourn the death of her mother. but then, as a child, clutching onto the stained fabric of his mother's dress, he had only the time to hear Caeda's raspy final wish before an aching pain struck his heart. the day he transformed for the first time was the day he lost both his mother and home forever.

and, without his only familial support, he had to brave Zephia's obligation alone. he kept Caeda in memory for centuries, adopting many of her mannerisms into his speech and always carrying a handful of her ashes in the steel of his necklace, forged in secret by the blacksmith whom he owed. but, in his mother's words, Caeda had to die. it was inevitable. best it be at the hands of her wife and not another, right? right? because there could be no other reason for Zephia to strike her down that he could think of.

they loved each other. they loved him. he loved them. but where had it gone wrong?

QUOTES,

??? about CAEDA, present:

"... i missed her." instinctively, his hand rises to touch the necklace resting against his collarbone, as if to protect the ashes trapped within its steel. "my mother was the strongest person i knew. she... it's been years but, i can never give her my proper thanks for all she's done. watering the flowers near her burial is the least i can do."

??? about ZEPHIA, present:

"she is my mother, just as i am her son. by blood and oath." the words flow evenly, as though this is rehearsed. "i owe her my life, for birthing me and every year afterward. she and... she and my second mother were teaching me the importance of my choice and staying at her side is mine."

ZEPHIA about ???, present:

"my sweet boy," next comes a delighted hum, as though she holds the utmost pride in him, "he has grown well over the years. already he has nearly mastered his draconic form. even after... hmph. i simply hope to pull him from his late-night visits to the stables of the village down the mountain path. he sleeps there as though it is his den."

ZEPHIA about CAEDA, present:

"it was my mistake to fall in love with her." a long pause; her gaze falters and her hands tremble against each other. when she speaks again, it is quieter, as biting as it is regretful, "we are better off without her. she was not suited for the life of a fell child's parent... time would have killed her even if i had not."

CAEDA about ???, past:

"he may be a fell child but i will never let him feel as if that is all he can ever amount to—all he will ever be." she holds a single hand close to her heart. "as long as i draw breath, i will never let him think otherwise."

CAEDA about ZEPHIA, past:

"there is love in her heart, i know it." a warm smile, despite circumstances. despite the efforts she must go to in order to protect her child from grief. "it need only be drawn out."

CAEDA to ???, before death:

"when it's... when it's hard to be a good person, just remember that i l—love you."

#arcaeda #☽ ━━━━━━ ❝ to appease the handmade goddess ・【 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 】 .#ohhhhh i had so much fun with this one i ( BURSTS INTO TEARS AND SOBS AND HEAVES AND HICCUPS AND SNIFFLES AND CRIES AND #i was waiting for one of zephia's meme lovers to be the first death / kill count and i fear it's mrs fire emblem #IM SO SICK AND ILL I CANT BELIEVE ZEPHIA WOULD DO THIS I HATE HER SO MUCHH #and the idea i have in mind for the zephiaeda kid is kind of sick i'm lowkey obsessed with him #the kind of man to rob you of your money just to show you how weak and vulnerable you are but it's all for good intentions to help you #i lowkey went crazy with this too sorry this is so long

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kathrynalicemc · 11 months

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ᚦᛁ ᛒᚱᛅᚢᛁ ᛋᚼᛅᛚᛚ ᛚᛁᚢᛁ ᚠᚬᚱᛁᚢᛁᚱ ᛁᚾ ᚦᛁ ᚼᛅᛚᛚᛋ ᚬᚠ ᚢᛅᛚᚼᛅᛚᛚᛅ

This is my Masterpost for everything Skalafell! It will be updated regularly so it’s kinda permanently a WIP. Everyone is welcome to create their own content for Skalafell and I’ll add it! Hyperlinks are coming soon

Families:

Arcano

Asker

Durand

Flintstryke

Fraye

Greyloc

Kittelsen

Larson

Lionette

Lochan

Sato

Stormborne

Winterwell

Factions:

The Skalafell Guard

The Wild Hunt

The Arcano Trading Company

Businesses/Locations:

Skalafell Entrance Guardpost

The Ulvefjorden

The Docks & Warehouse

The Marketplace

The Blacksmith

Larson Brewery

Lochan’s Leather Co

Skalafell Longhouse

The Burial Mound

Skalafell Forest

The Arcano House

Lore & Fics:

Intro to Skalafell Layout

The Gifted Three Families

The Founders of Valhalla

Valhalla Lore

Skall “The White Wolf” Arcano

#skalafell masterpost #hphm #hpma #hphl #skalafell #hogwarts mystery #magic awakened #hogwarts legacy #arcano family

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kirayaykimura · 2 years

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marriage of convenience au

Lili took a lot of convincing to agree to marry Soo-Won. There were just a lot of reasons to say no. Reasons she did say no three separate times before she caved. The first was that he was…Soo-Won. He was gentle and nice and got along with her father, which was frankly appalling. The other, more hidden parts of his personality - the icy ruthlessness and the fact that he murdered her best friend’s father - made him even less appealing as a life partner. The second reason she refused to marry him was because it was not a love match. Not that she would ever admit it out loud, but there was a time in her life when she had vowed to eschew politics and only marry someone she truly loved and couldn’t live without. It was a silly goal, but she did feel a pang of guilt over letting her ten year old self down by agreeing to marry for logistics rather than love. Reasons three through ten involved Soo-Won’s position as king.

The fact Lili was betrothed to the king was the exact reason she was forced to skulk through the halls of the palace, avoiding a certain advisor and very much regretting the fact that she had not refused the engagement a fourth time.

A flash of black at the end of the hall that couldn’t be anything but Kye-Sook’s bleak-ass robes had her diving for the first door to her left. She slipped inside Soo-Won’s office, shutting the door as quickly and quietly as possible, leaning her back against it for good measure. She wasn’t delusional enough to assume her weight could hold off a grown man attempting to push his way into the room, but she would certainly die trying.

With her back against the door, she belatedly realized the room was already occupied. Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a startled yelp.

Soo-Won watched her, a little curious and a little amused.

“What are you doing here?” Lili hissed, trying to get her breathing under control.

Soo-Won’s amusement only grew.

“This is my office,” he said.

“Yes, I know that. You’re supposed to be in a meeting.”

“It finished early.”

“Well, good for you.” Then, “Sorry, I guess. For bursting in on you.”

“That’s alright. Rough day?”

“You have no idea.”

He motioned for her to take a seat which she accepted with minimal fuss. She would lose her guardpost at the door, but if anyone was going to be a good buffer against Kye-Sook, it was going to be Soo-Won.

“Would you like some tea?” he asked. He flipped an unused teacup right-side up on a serving tray to his left and began to pour.

“Is it cold?”

He spared her a glance to ask, “Why would I offer you cold tea?”

“I just got here. How would I know how long it’s been sitting out?”

“I can assure you it’s still very warm. Be careful with it, please.”

If she focused, she could just barely make out steam coming off the top of the tea as he set the cup down in front of her. Though it was mid-morning, the end of the year was nearing and the chill in the air took longer and longer to dissipate each day. The heat she could leach from the cup was a welcome relief for her bare fingers.

“Are you hiding from Kye-Sook again?” Soo-Won asked.

“Your advisor,” she said, using his title like a curse, “has been following me all morning.”

“Any idea what he wants this time?” Soo-Won asked from behind the lip of his own cup of tea.

Lili looked him dead in the eyes and said, “He wants to talk about sex.”

Soo-Won choked on his tea.

“Procreation,” Lili said over his hacking. “Making babies.”

“What?” Soo-Won asked hoarsely.

“He has thoughts, Soo-Won. So many thoughts about the future heir to the throne.”

The future heir that was very far in the future. She knew logically that it would be their duty to do all that at some point, but it was like any responsibility Lili didn’t want: she was going to avoid even thinking about it for as long as possible. And then a little longer after that.

“Oh,” Soo-Won said.

That didn’t sound surprised enough for Lili. He sounded entirely too calm for her current state of utter torture.

“What do you mean oh?” Lili asked.

“He,” Soo-Won said, “does this a lot. Having a legitimate blood heir makes the succession process easier to navigate.”

“Does he talk to you about your moon cycles?”

Soo-Won choked on nothing this time.

“Tell him all conversations about heirs go through you from now on,” Lili said. “I don’t want him even speaking to me, let alone about that.”

“If I could talk him out of things he’s set his mind to, my life would be much easier.”

Lili gave him the darkest look she could muster.

It must have worked because Soo-Won added, “But I’ll see what I can do.”

“You do that.”

She finally took a sip of the tea in front of her. It was slightly sweet and floral. Was there enough to drown Kye-Sook in? She’d make a valiant effort to find out.

“Give me your hand,” Soo-Won said. He reached his hand out, palm up, across the desk and various papers strewn about. There was probably some method of organization at play, but she had no idea what it was. Just like she had no idea why he would want her hand.

“What are you going to do with it?” she asked, eying his hand warily.

His fingers twitched in invitation. “Hand, please.”

Frowning, she slid her hand into his. It was warmer than hers, and she was very upset to admit deep in the recesses of her mind that it felt even nicer than the warm teacup. Her fingertips brushed the inside of his wrist, heel of her palm stopping halfway down his fingers. She could feel a callous at the base of his forefinger. A few more dragged rough on her skin as he curled his fingers around the base of her thumb in a very strange approximation of holding hands. It was as jarring as ever to feel the physical evidence that he was not nearly as soft as she had once assumed. Calluses formed from expert knowledge of deadly weapons contrasted with the almost featherlight hold he had on her and the gentle way he held her gaze. His gaze was a reason she’d once rejected his proposal; the curious dichotomy of his demeanor and actions was a reason she’d stuck around long enough to accept.

Soo-Won squeezed her hand gently once and said, “I’m sorry you’ve had such a hard morning.”

Lili snorted.

“You are welcome to hide in my office any time.”

“No, it’s fine,” Lili said with a dramatic sigh. “He has to give up eventually, right?”

Judging from Soo-Won’s grimace, she did just as poor a job convincing him as she had herself.

As if summoned, they heard two curt raps at the door before Kye-Sook let himself into the room.

“Your Majesty, I-“

Kye-Sook paused mid-sentence as he took in the unexpected scene before him.

“Stop,” Lili deadpanned. “Get out. We’re creating that heir you won’t stop terrorizing me about.”

Kye-Sook barely missed a beat before he said, “I certainly hope not. That would throw off the wedding timeframe catastrophically.”

Oh no, Lili mouthed at Soo-Won, rolling her eyes. She watched in satisfaction as the corners of his lips twitched in a repressed smile.

“In any case,” Kye-Sook continued, “it is not the best time of the month for you-“

“I will kill you,” Lili snapped as Soo-Won said, more politely but a tad more forceful than normal, “Kye-Sook, could you give us a few minutes alone, please?”

Kye-Sook exited the room with a bow.

“My first act as queen will be to fire him,” Lili said as soon as the door shut behind him.

Soo-Won hummed noncommittally.

“Okay,” Lili said. “I’m leaving now. Time to find a new hiding place.”

“Are you sure? You can stay as long as you’d like.”

“No, it’s fine. I have books to return to the library before Min-Su gives me those tragic eyes of his. It’s like he thinks I’m going to steal the books.”

Speaking of eyes, Soo-Won had bags under his. This was not an uncommon occurrence, but they looked especially dark today, like he hadn’t slept in a long while. She had no idea why couldn’t - or wouldn’t - keep a normal sleep schedule, but there were quite a few things she knew he was keeping from her. She found herself both intrigued by what he kept hidden and scared to know what he felt must stay private after everything she did know about him.

“You look exhausted,” she said. “You should take a nap.”

Though she couldn’t force him to tell her why he had such a contentious relationship with sleep or what he was keeping from her, she could try forcing him to take care of himself. She didn’t actually want to be the queen of Kohka, after all. If he left her to rule because he didn’t take care of his health and died, she would never forgive him.

“I don’t think I have time for a nap,” Soo-Won said ruefully.

“Make time.” Lili shrugged. “Decree it if you have to. Official Royal Nap Time.”

“The way you think the monarchy works is fascinating given the fact that you were raised by a politician.”

Soo-Won squeezed her hand one more time before slipping away, freeing her to stand and round the desk to the window behind him.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“That freak probably has his ear pressed to the door outside. There’s no way I’m getting out of here the normal way without being accosted about top five positions to guarantee impregnation.”

He silently unlatched the window for her and pushed it open.

She had one leg over the window ledge before she felt a hand at her back and another at her elbow, ready to hold her steady as she shimmied out.

“Good thing your office is so low to the ground,” Lili said.

“I picked it for just this sort of occasion,” Soo-Won said.

“Wait, really?”

She shifted her weight to the foot on the grass outside and let Soo-Won hold her hand to balance while she threaded her other leg through to freedom.

“No,” he said.

“Is there a reason you picked this room?”

Soo-Won hummed. “A story for another day.”

She shivered in the cold mid-morning, immediately regretting leaving the warm comforts of Soo-Won’s office. She felt ridiculous and weak, but the palace was more north than she was used to; the winters were especially brutal for someone used to a more temperate clime.

“Get back inside soon. I’ll cover for you,” Soo-Won said.

“How so?” Lili asked.

“Kye-Sook,” Soo-Won called, eyes never leaving Lili’s.

She caught the faintest hint of amusement from him when she startled, ducking out of view of the window as his office door swung open far too quickly for someone who wasn’t standing right next to it.

Gross.

It probably meant something that not even Kye-Sook and his inappropriate investment in her and Soo-Won’s nonexistent sex life could scare her off from marrying Soo-Won. Because she hated Kye-Sook. She hated Soo-Won’s position. She hated that she liked Soo-Won’s pretty face and nice hands that were bigger than hers.

Don’t connect those dots just yet, she begged her brain. She wanted to continue to live in avoidance for just a little bit longer. Because the second she stopped running, she knew she’d have to face the fact that she had somehow, at some point, maybe fallen in love with her fiancé.

Shit.

#look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t think kyesook would be inappropriately invested in future heirs to the throne #yona of the dawn #akatsuki no yona #lili x soo won #lili/soo won #liliwon #(jen if you see this i’m going with your preference for ship name. we’re committing)#soo won: your company is my favorite part of the day. i am very busy but will make time for you. stay forever.#lili: i'm doomed to a loveless marriage full of angst and pining. my life is a greek tragedy #so uhhhhh yeah i had originally written this idea as a joke in a pwp #might tack on a happy smutty second chapter to this because i want to practice writing smut #i just have to get over myself first you know?#my fic

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