#*Tortle last scream*

[gniteruirui]

I am ded. Nia just killed me. Everybody say thx to Nia cuz she just killed me <3

#rui rui talks #🫀🫀🫀🫀 #❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 #AAAAAA #*Tortle last scream* #aaa~ #lilmissnia

[weirdlet]

On the one hand, kind of a ‘normal’ session, in that we just went into a dungeon, did our thing, and got through it.  On the other hand- by golly, we got through a THING.

Scrabbled our way out of the blue dragon’s lair and hightailed it for the woods outside town- we needed to breathe and recuperate and just not have anything chewing on us for a day or so.  We set up camp and traded round-robin puns for inspiration and to come down from the heights of adrenaline, healed up and took watches.  

Our newest member, Maeve the paladin, took first watch- she doesn’t quite trust us yet, which, ya know, fair.  On her turn, she found that very nearby, there was a pond with several elk sleeping peacefully alongside it- a beautiful sight, but a little nervewracking because it meant we hadn’t cleared the perimeter properly.  Those elk could have been anything. But nothing else happens.  We sleep the night, start in the morning fresh and full of hitpoints.  Maeve knows where the other dragon’s lair is, and we skirt through the town just enough to see that all the blue kobolds have dropped dead through the night.  The red kobolds are still running rampant, and do not seem discomfited by the deaths of the blues. So we get to the lair- and Phillip.  Dear, darling Phillip... holds aloft the eyes we took from the blue dragon and proclaims in draconic that we’ve come to give tribute and pledge ourselves to the mighty dragon Redbrand.  This gets the gathering crowd of kobold archers to hold off until the big resonant voice says ‘let the Glass-Staff greet them’.  We are in.

We get into the initial tunnel, which is- somehow leading us down into the depths of a volcanic lava tube.  The Glass-Staff greets us- a half-elven mage holding the titular glass staff.  Glory rolls insight to see what we can tell about this guy.

Natural 20.

DM’s Note: You personally know this guy.  Eighth level wizard, half-elf, you’ve met.

“Hey, Jimmy!”

He looks offended.  “Don’t call me that- we did one White Sails mission together, and that was years ago.  Why are you here?” “Oh don’t be like that- we were in the neighborhood, thought we’d pledge our allegiance to the biggest baddest dragon around.  How’ve you been?” “Oh yes, you’ve been in the neighborhood- I’ve heard stories about the winged tiefling, the mighty tortle, the dragonborn, and the rest... going around killing dragons.  One might- *question* the likelihood of this being a friendly visit-” “Nonsense!  We were proving ourselves worthy and cleaning up as ordered and the one was actually a hit job ordered by a much larger green dragon-” and Glory keeps running off at the mouth until we’re over a bridge and Phillip says “Oh no!  Hold on, I’ll save you!” and shoves Jimmy over into the lava while Lady Ravenleaf stone-shapes the tunnel shut behind us, sealing out the backup kobolds.

Splash, sizzle, mage-hand the shiny new staff. “Alas, poor Jimmy, your dick was not nearly as big as you liked to think it was,” is Glory’s final lament for him, and then we set to fighting brigands and kobolds and a dragon’s-blood ooze.  That last one sprayed plasma all over the place that not only burned like awful but weakened the stonework, and so we had to be really careful.  But we managed to mop them all up, clear through the barracks that had an alchemy lab with bubbling potions and the winnings of an actually nice-stakes cardgame on the table.

If we’d managed to roll better we might have gotten more than one healing potion out of that bubbling still, but the heads and tails were just too unpredictable.  Still, never hurts to have one more.

The Wand of the Hidden reveals secret doors, two of them, and we go for the one and never bother with the other despite the GM silently screaming- feeling intense heat behind the one, we figure it *might* be lava- but we hear voices behind it, speaking in dwarvish.  My guess, Azer- but because there’s people speaking behind it, we kind of assume that there won’t be a sudden rush of lava if we open the door. Glory undoes the traps, and we’re right, it’s not a rush, more of a slow creep of lava inching at our toes- but there’s the azer, and then there’s the DRAGON.

A cone of rime frost gets us a pathway across the lava field.  Our various resistences and a couple of potions keep us from all dying of heat immediately.  And some of us being bold and stupid to the point of suicidal, we just divebomb this fucking dragon that’s howling in fury and calling for its kobolds to aid him.

Our mages had literally just gotten Frost Rime and Hold Monster.  We get four rounds of paralyzed dragon, punching attack after attack into him- only for him to completely fail to bleed, while all around us kobolds are popping like gadflies.  This adds into another thing that’s been creeping up into our notice- all these dragons we’ve fought have been young dragons.  Normally not of a size to be worthy of worship by kobolds or others- something else is going on that’s giving them power and prestige.  This is some separate magic hitching the dragon’s lifeforce to his kobolds, and vice-versa- but we’ll have to investigate that further later, right now there’s a whole lot of angry personified teenaged VOLCANO trying to bite our faces off.

Glory drops a bag of ballbearings, Ravenleaf stoneshapes the reserve tunnel shut- Maeve the paladin gets burnt near to cinders, then manifests some stigmata of the Broken God and heals herself, and Glory is definitely going to talk with her later.  But she as a new player is learning the great fun that is Paladin Going Nova For Fun And Profit, and she chews a huge chunk of hitpoints out of this dragon just as he’s getting his legs back under him.

The dragon rears back.  Glory pushes off the wall, augers up under the ribs with his sword aforethought, and punctures something important as Redbrand collapses wheezing and dying into the six inches of lava below.

At this point the session has gone a half-hour over, so we are left with the knowledge that all the other kobolds are in the process of dropping dead, there is a proper hoard to dig into, and that next week we are leveling to eighth, baby.

Apparently we were supposed to give up on the hot door, go around the other way, clear a lot of hitpoint-reserve kobolds and not do the entire fight ass-backwards.  Still, we survived!

Gotta remember to ask Ravenleaf in character if she actually wants to marry Neverember’s wastrel son, and figure out how to stop the wedding once we rescue him.

#Glory's Travails

[skygal-178]

IMOGEN & LAUDNA ORIGINS

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A story of two complete strangers and the strong bond that blossoms between them!

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artwork by @shadydruid characters by laura bailey and marisha ray from @criticalrole

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The next morning, at dawn, Imogen and Laudna are walking on the docks. Their stuff packed up and ready to go. They even managed to get a quick breakfast at the Inn, before heading out.

It doesn’t take long for them to spot the Nein Heroez, docked at the end of second the pier. Not seeing anybody immediately on deck, the ladies decide to walk on-board. “Uhm, hello?!” Laudna asks somewhat loudly. “Imogen and Laudna here!” Before they can take another step, a sudden outburst takes them by surprise. “STOP THERE! OR I’LL CUT YOU!” A tiefling boy jumps out in front of them, with a wooden sword in one hand and a matching wooden shield in the other. “Oh Gods!” Imogen blurts out. Getting a better look at him he definitely has the classic tiefling features; a set of curling horns and a pointed devils tail, but glancing over his face there’s also a set of small tusks starting to grow. His skin is has a green to dark blueish green color, with pathces of a blue skin over his face and tail in a vitiligo-like pattern. “Micka! C’mere! I’m sorry, my son gets his excitability from his mother.” Fjord walks out from below deck. “Oh no worries, I’m good with kids. Whaa!” Laudna flashes her clawed hands and putting on, what to hear feels like a ‘playful’ scary face. In reality it’s more of a very toned down version of her form of dread, but without the black tears streaming from her eyes. The boy, now known as Micka, instantly stiffens before running off screaming. “Too much?” “Maybe a bit.. we’ll work on it.” Imogen lays a hand on Laudna’s shoulder assuringly. “Yeah, alright. I’m sorry.” “No worries, he’ll be alright. Please, follow me I’ll show you around.” Fjord leads the ladies around the deck, down below deck and finally shows them to the guest quarters.

After dropping their stuff in their shared cabin, Imogen and Laudna head up to the mess area where they meet the crew. Orly, a male tortle, the navigator on the ship. Next up is Darius, a male half-elf, he is a sailor and helps out wherever he can. The carpenter on board is Gallan, a human male. Last but surely not least, a purple skinned tiefling, also a sailor and helping out wherever he can. And of course the captain and his wife, Fjord and Jester have joined along with their son.

“So where are you both from? Did you travel far to Marshvale?” Jester starts off conversation. “Oh not to far, we came from Gelvaan. I met Imogen there.” Laudna immediately engages, excited to meet new friends. “So you’re from here, you’re from Marquet?” Fjord also joins. “I’m not, Imogen is. What about you guys? Where did you travel from?” Laudna returns the question. “We came from The Menagerie Coast in Wildemount.” “So you’re from a completely different continent.” Imogen states, amazed by the adventurous lifestyle these folks seem to have. “Uhuh, have you ever been?” “Oh no, this is the first time I had ever left my home town.” “Really? You two look like travelling folk.” “Well, we’ve been at it for a couple of months now.."

Finishing their lunch, Fjord heads up together with some of the crew getting ready to depart. Leaving the ladies, with Jester and Gallan talking in the mess. Jester is telling them all about how they have a shipping company called 'Stone's Throw' and are now traveling all over Exandria to get their name out there. When suddenly about two-thirds of the way there, the ship suddenly comes to a stop with a thud. Followed shortly after by Fjord’s voice yelling out. “WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!” The sound of the wood creaking slightly fills the room. Immediately Jester makes her way up to the main deck, with Laudna and Imogen rushing after her. Gallan stays behind keeping a close eye on the hull from the inside, ready to repair as soon as possible. Outside they’re met with eight giant snakeheads creeping up from around underneath the ship, four on either side. “Oh shit! What is that?” Laudna exclaims completely taken aback by this unfamiliar creature. “It’s a Snektopus! Watch out for the heads, they're poisonous!” Fjors replies as he takes out a longsword made from some sort of blue crystal material. “Good to know!” Imogen nods, before focusing her attention on the nearest snake head. “Get away from us!” She screams out to it in a whisper. The head shakes in pain for a moment, taking a bit to collect itself. Laudna turns to a head on the other side of the ship. Laudna speaks a word of incantation as this aura of black energy surrounds the snake head closest to the front of the ship. She reaches out her hand, as a beam of smokey black crackling energy erupts from it and hits that same head. While all this is happening Kingsley and Orly have started making their way to the cannons and loaded them ready to fire. Fjord and Jester share a look before Jester speaks some words under her breath and a massive spectral lollypop appears right next to the snake head Imogen had attacked earlier, smacking it straight across its face. “Agh, poop!” She exclaims when the head is still up and slithering, but just barely. “Well take this!” And she reaches out her hand, releasing a burst of pink flame-like radiance. With that, the scorching remains of the head sinks back down into the water below, sizzling on surface impact. Fjord steps closer to the head right in front of him. “Galas’var.“ He speaks a word of incantation, making the sword glow a blue light. Before he slashes into the head aiming for the eyes, making it slither back as one of its eyes is completely slashed through. Fjord resets his position and goes in for another swipe with his sword, but the one remaining eye catches it and the head moves out of the way and the word gets stuck into the railing of the ship. “Ah shit!” He tries pulling it free, but there’s no budge. As he looks up the snake head lunges forward, but with only one eye its aim is off. Further back on the ship on of the heads lunges towards Laudna, taking her shoulder and biting down. “Argh!” She cries out in pain, as the veins around the wounds take on this dark green almost black color underneath the skin. “Laudna!” Imogen instantly yells out, when she hears the painful scream from her friend. 

Imogen hits the head that just bit Laudna with a beam of purple crackling energy. Taking it out instantly. Laudna, stumbling on her feet, hits the one still surrounded by the black smokey aura with another bolt of energy, taking it out as well. With the cannons now loaded, both Orly and Kingley shoot at the still undamaged heads. One of them goes wide, hitting the water behind it, but the other hits blowing it straight off of its tentacle neck. The spectral lollipop floats toward the last snake on Jester and Imogen’s side of the ship, and razor-sharp blades pop out of the side all around like a chainsaw. It cleaves into the base of the head, cutting a big chunk out of it. Jester follows the attack with a bolt of radiant energy making the head burst out with a light radiance from within. One head left, the one that’s facing Fjord. He pulls his sword free from the wood and aims first for the other eye. Leaving a slashing mark across the eyelid, but not through the eyes yet. Another slash, cutting right through its throat. The head slides off and into the water, and with a thud from below the ship seems to be free to move again. “Laudna!” Imogen immediately rushes over to her friend, catching as she stumbles on her feet. With blood gushing out of the big bite marks left by the snake and poisoned veins surrounding the wounds. “Imogen.. I’m not feeling so well..” Laudna cries out in a whisper. “Can somebody help?! Do you have any healers on board?” Imogen calls out to Fjord and Jester who are running over. “Yes, I can help.” Jester lays her hand on Laudna's shoulder, a soft pink glow emanating as the bite wounds heal up fully. The glow fades, before emanating out again. The poisoned veins returned to their usual undead color. “That feels a lot better, thank you.” Laudna stands up somewhat straighter, still leaning on Imogen just s bit for some extra support. “Oh, no problem that’s what I do, 'cause I’m a cleric!” Jester states, sharing a look with Fjord. Who lays a hand on her shoulder proudly. “I should go check on Micka.” And Jester heads below deck. “How far is it to Garven?” Imogen walks up to Fjord, who’s taken his position behind the helm. “Not too far, maybe a few hours at most.” He replies, picking up the pace again. Imogen nods, looking around for Laudna.

The sun has started to set into the open sea to their left. Laudna is standing in the back of the ship on the poop deck, looking over the water behind them. “Hi.” Imogen quickly walks up. “Hey.” Laudna smiles, stepping aside to make space for Imogen. “Are you feeling alright?” She asks, leaning over the wooden railing. “I’m good. It’s funny actually, I’ve never really been close to.. death ever since.. well you know. But I wasn’t scared, not at all.” Laudna explains. “Well, I was. I thought I was gonna lose you, Laudna.” Imogen looks over at her. “That day I saw those townsfolk attacking you, I saw myself in you. And I didn’t want that, not for you, not for myself, not for anybody.” A smile forms on Laudna’s face upon hearing Imogen’s words. “No one had ever done anything like that for me. I will never forget what you did, and I will always be grateful for it.” Imogen leans in closer embracing Laudna in a sideways hug. Laudna turns to face Imogen, wrapping her arms around Imogen’s neck in response and pulling her in tighter. As they pull away their eyes lock for a moment before Laudna instinctively leans in again. A shiver of surprise and emotion runs through Imogen when their lips meet in a gentle kiss. It takes a second for her to lean in as well, but she does. Her hands find their way to the sides of Laudna’s face and hold her there gently, letting Laudna’s strange version of warmth engulf her.

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AN: Hii! sorry this chapter took a bit longer, but I wanted to actually roll for the combat so I had to look up stats and stuff.. I'm pretty proud of how it turned out, so hope you like it! I'm planning on one more chapter so look out for it! Thank you for reading <3

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NEXT CHAPTER

#critical role #imogen temult #laudna #fanfiction #origin story #jester lavorre #fjord stone #nein heroez #might nein #bells hells

[jeeperso]

D&D Quotes Without Context

Treasure Island edition, Chapter 17

"This ends....today...maybe....unless we drag it out until the morning..." OOC: Don’t forget your genie damage. "Smith, for all the pain you have help cause, for everything you did while pretending to be a simple wooden leg in our midst, it is time to die. Slash and burn!" impressed iguana noises. “You’re right Dingo, I haven’t seen a tree get fucked up like that since the Once-ler went away.” "Oh crap, it's that spring break I spent in Innsmouth all over again." “Counter the Fuck Spell. Sicko!” "I don't think.. it's a... oh, there are tentacles... nevermind." Janus: "When we kill you, I'm gonna whittle a chamber pot out of your stump you morally bankrupt piece of driftwood." Archie: "And I'm gonna make a radical boogie board." MJ: “Can I get a bong?” Janus: "There should be plenty of wood so why not?" OOC: Oh, shit, he’s got truck parts? He’s one of those freaky wood transformers! MJ: “Lightning bolt no Justu!” Amber: "MJ, you aren't a shinobi." MJ: “Wait… I’m not?!? Then how did I shoot lightning?” Cookie: "What is a ... shinobi?" MJ: “Thinly sliced raw fish.” Amber: "Trained warriors from the far east who can cast what they call jutsus with various hand signs." Cookie: "Spellcasting spy fish from the east... got it..." OOC: Put the boots to him, Bizarre-style. “Does it feel like we’re beating up a one legged guy in an ass kicking contest?” We just hold a conversation as their screams echo behind us. “So… did that seem too easy to anyone else?” Oh gods, why have you forsaken us? Was it when we peed in the holy water fountain? Amber: "Now, no one say anything to jinx us and bring down more trouble on us. Especially not that Flint is still alive and waiting for us at the main treasure horde. Darn it! I've spent too much time with you guys." “Oh, hi, Melfina with karate chop action.” "You be a dick you get large phallic burning objects put in you.”

"She knows what she was saying..." "Ded also pirate. Ded just not asshole." "Close only counts in Ogres and Oubliettes." “This seems like it would be more tragic if you’d been a likable father figure instead of some mutinous asshole with a tree-man for a leg.” Pete can be on corpse-dragging duty. As an object lesson. “Anyone want one last puff?” "Thank you, but i'm sure the sight beyond will shock us sober." "Ever get that feeling like you're walking into a monsters mouth?" "Ded actually do that once." "How'd that turn out..?" "Monster surprisingly tasty." * Impressed Tortle Noises * "Ded get feeling economy not ready for this much cash injection." "We'll buy a new economy... Don't worry about it..." "This is Melfina's money after all, do keep that in mind." “Melfina, I need to tell you about student loan debt, and why it is bullshit.” “Nope! Black ships, wrecked or not are a sign of Eldritch NOPE!” "Unless the sword is also wood, I doubt it's a vampire." "Hail and well met, Princess Leshavna. I am a servant of your brother, Kevosh, Prince of Worldly libations. He's the one that likes looking like a nine foot tall owlin." “Oh, hey, is this a Dragonborn? Is your junk on the inside or out?” "I cannot answer that, Lady Jonni, there is a child present." “What kind of sick fuck calls Vesh when there are kids around? Do you know what we’re doing 70% of the time?” “No.”

"Gold zombie..." "I knew it, no place could contain a soul that evil. Even if he died they would boot him out for trying to take over." "Please don't be a dracolich, please." GM: Next time, The Final Boss: Captain Finatrax Flint! OOC: Riftrax Flint? Sounds like a great time. OOC: I'll give them another few minutes and if they aren't on we'll get started without them. OOC2: They’re usually late due to dinner. And could be taco night. Taco night goes longer. OOC: My parents made rack of lamb. Our oven sucks. OOC: Alright, it's past my bedtime. Got to brush my teeth and put plastic wrap over my eyes. Night!

#dungeons and dragons #dnd 5e #quotes without context #treasure island #muppet treasure island

[unreadpoppy]

Reunion

(Elizabeth x Kallista)

Summary: The long awaited reunion between the lovers Kallista and Elizabeth.

A/N: In the wake of their campaigns both being cancelled due to higher forces, I needed to write their reunion since it's not actually happening in canon (and i'll probably write their epilogue as well).

@littlemoondarling

They were losing the fight. 

Kallista had already spent most of her strength, all of her allies were down and she was surrounded. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. They were supposed to win, and get back home and she would find Elizabeth and all would be well. But as she looked around, at the bloody bodies of the companions, Kallista took in a deep breath. If this was her end, she would go out fighting. 

She screamed as she battled the remaining foes, swinging her sword around, filled with a new found rage.  Tears filled her eyes as she managed to down most of them, but one remained. 

The held a large and strong battle axe, and he was clearly not as spent as the tiefling. One attack after the other, too fast for Kallista to process, made her lose her sword, allowing him to kick her onto the ground. 

She tried getting up, but he kicked her again. Kallista put a hand on her side, coughing up blood. She looked up, seeing as he raised the axe, and closed her eyes, preparing herself for the final blow. Her last thoughts were of her lover, and how sad it was that their time was cut so short. 

‘Maybe in another life’ was Kallista’s last thought. 

… Except that the blow never came. 

Instead, Kallista opened her eyes just as the man’s head dropped from his body, alongside his axe. As the rest of his body soon followed, the tiefling looked down, breathing heavily. 

“It can’t be.” She heard a familiar voice. Soon, a hand covered the one in her side, while another touched her cheek, lifting her gaze to the scarred face that consumed her thoughts. 

“Please, tell me that you’re real.” She heard Elizabeth whisper. “Tell me that this isn’t an illusion made to torment me.”

“Elizabeth…” Kallista breathed out, reaching a hand to touch the woman’s cheek. “You found me?” 

“I would always find you.” Elizabeth said, tears streaming down her face. “Even if you were not you and I was not I, I’d still find you.” She kissed Kallista’s palmm and looked down, looking at her wound. She then turned around to scream “Brutus, come help me.” 

A tortle stepped into Kallista’s sight, and both him and Elizabeth helped her up. “Come.” her lover said. “We’ll get you somewhere safe.” 

“Anywhere is safe if you're around.” Kallista whispered, making her blush.

…

After arriving in their settlement, Elizabeth helped Kallista clean herself and treat her wounds. Both of them had been silent as she dragged the wet cloth carefully around her body, washing away the grime, dirt and blood of the day. Later, the tiefling took a few healing potions, removing the hurt and only leaving a few cuts and bruises behind. 

They stayed silent as Elizabeth wound the bandages around Kallista’s middle, and the tiefling noticed how her brows furrowed at the scars on her chest. 

Now, Kallista was sitting on the nearby beach, looking at the moons. She heard footsteps behind her, and then, Elizabeth sat next to her. Both stayed like that, until the human placed her head on the tiefling’s shoulder, sighing. 

“What’s wrong?” Kallista asked. 

“I keep thinking that this is some…awfully good dream that I’ll wake up from.” Elizabeth said. “That at any moment I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone again.” She turned her head to look into the other’s eye.

“I promise you, I’m real.” She held one of her hands and brought it to her lips, kissing it. 

Elizabeth smiled shyly. Her free hand went towards the tiefling’s chest, fingers brushing over strange markings. “These are new.” She murmured. 

Kallista sighed. “It’s a complicated story.” She pointed towards the scars on Elizabeth’s neck and the ones on her chest, right where her heart lay. “Those are also new.” 

Elizabeth raised a brow and smirked. “It’s a complicated story.” The two women chuckled. 

A moment passed where they just looked at each other. Kallista suddenly looked down. “I can’t help but think of all that has happened.” She whispered. “Seven years, Elizabeth, that I was looking for you. I almost believed you had died.” She sighed, looking up again. “I’m not the same woman that I was then.” Kallista shook her head before finishing. “What I mean is…if your feelings for me have changed, if you found another, I’m…I’ll be okay.”

Elizabeth frowned. “I’ve changed as well, Kallista.” She cupped both of her cheeks with her hands. “But my love for you has been the one constant in this chaos I’ve been thrown into.” She smiled as tears gathered in her eyes. “A life without you in it is senseless. I want you by my side, forever.” 

Kallista smiled, inching forward and pressing a delicate kiss on Elizabeth’s lips. Although it had been long since they had last done so, this sort of intimacy, of affection towards the other, came as naturally to them as breathing. 

The kiss was short and afterwards, Elizabeth reached into the pocket of her pants, retrieving some pieces of folded parchment. “I thought of you, everyday.” She said while handling them to Kallista. 

The tiefling raised a brow as she opened them up and was met with various different drawings but all with the same subject - her. 

There was Kallista laughing and smiling, her just standing, one of her with an angry expression, and a few in more…explicit poses. 

“You…Elizabeth, I…I have no words.” She hugged her, as strong as she could. Then, she let go, to touch their foreheads to the other. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Elizabeth smirked and got up. “Now, I think it would be interesting if we made some of these-” she pointed towards the drawings “a reality.” 

“Now we’re talking.” Kallista quickly pocketed the drawings, getting on her feet and with easy, throwing Elizabeth over her shoulder, practically sprinting back to where they were residing, while the other laughed. 

They had waited seven years for this reunion and they would make up for all the lost time. 

#my writing #oc: elizabeth adawolf #oc: kallista #elizabeth x kallista #original work

[lordofchickens]

Catching up on DnD, The Siege of Trife Parts 1-3

A lot of self brought dread in the last 4-5 sessions, my grand plan for a "kill the monsters and save the city" scene dragged onto a roughly 20 hours of combat with little roleplay during. Handful of cool moments though which I'll try and recall.

Descriptions for later reference: Each enemy creature was an "[Animal] S.C.U.D". (a mild reference to The Minute Hour SCUDs) The idea is that each S.C.U.D was an experiment in polymorphing creatures, everything from seeing if you could morph something half way or if you could shape it into multiple creatures at once.

Ape S.C.U.Ds: Giants that have been experiments on, limbs taken from other monsters and all imbued with an element, their apelike fur shimmering like embers, or their hairs stood on end as electricity sparks off of them. Axe S.C.U.Ds: Turkey sized birds with blades attached to their heads, and an magical jet engine grafted into their body. Centaur S.C.U.Ds: Humanoids and horses twisted together to make artificial centaurs, then with carts and a catapult style weapons mounted onto them. Lizard S.C.U.Ds: Humanoids spliced with reptilian parts, using scimitars or flintlock pistols, some having a lizard head instead of a hand. Octopus S.C.U.Ds: Basically just Octoroks but would explode after attempting to grapple someone, if otherwise failing they would coat an area in tar after dying. Owl S.C.U.Ds: Harpy-esque hybrids with rifles in their talons. Nothing too special. Wasp S.C.U.Ds: People horribly stitched together, their wings and legs mismatched and a large barrels of acid they'd shoot stingers from. Gibbering S.C.U.Ds: Attempts to turns multiple creatures into a single one, leaving behind amalgamations of bodies, writhing and screaming in multiple voices.

With that out of the way, continuing the story.

The Party gets to work right away dispatching the S.C.U.Ds and rescuing the citizens of Trife, Wasps giving them mild trouble as none of the barbarians can reach them until Dave discovers his love for jumping.

Following some fleeing citizens, the Party comes across a small makeshift refuge nestled in a small park, there they meet a veteran guardsmen by the name of Garrel who lets the Party rest after watching the them cut a few Axe SCUDS in half and almost blow themselves up.

During their rest a heavily burned guardsmen starts rambling about a gorilla made of fire that incinerated his group, a tortle chef gives him some soup and tries to console him. Enter the newest Party Member, Tortilla the Cuisiner, who in his tour of the Kingdom got caught up in the conflict of the city. In behind him is his suis chef (who I don't think got a name but I'll call him Gimi), who is also doling out soup, albeit in a unorthodox way. Tortilla is distracted from the burnt guard when he realizes Gimi is sticking his hand into a large soup pot, using it as a ladle when filling everyone's soup bowl. Tortilla confronts him on this and remarks that he'd never let anyone in his kitchen do something so unhygienic, in-fact (with a Insight high roll) he realizes that Gimi isn't someone from his kitchen, and that despite Gimi doing his best to convince him that they're lifelong business partners, Tortilla's never met the fellow.

It's at this moment that Cronwer recognizes Gimi's jerky, uncertain movements as the same as Jimothy, the Stable Owner from Medina Mince, and subsequently The Raggedy Man. Cronwer greets Jimothy and exclaims that he's glad to see he didn't die in the fire there, attempting to catch the trickster in a lie. Gimi then quickly scrambles to search a nearby pile of rubble, hoisting up a burnt body up to his thigh. With one hand around the soup, and another around the body, The Raggedy Man attempts to keep both disguises going, Tortilla seemingly too distracted by the disrespect to his cooking continues to berate Gimi for how he's handling the soup. Tortilla attempts to take the pot away from Gimi, only for a mysterious third arm to wrap around the pot and hold it firm, he then threatens Gimi while Cronwer talks to Jimothy, forcing The Raggedy Man to decide which guise to keep, eventually deciding to "quit" working for Tortilla while also excusing himself from his conversation with Cronwer. The Party watches as both the suis chef and the corpse burrow into a wall of rubble, and see a stranger cloaked in red emerge on the other side sprinting away. Tortilla decides he can't work in these conditions and decides to leave the city, the Party asking him to join as they travel a lot and would like good food while they do, as well as showing off rare herbs they've found that they offer to give him.

After the upset in the camp and a short rest, everyone starts to hear a pounding and growling echoing from the southern streets, the burnt guard recognizes the sound and screams about how they're all going to burn.

Spilling out into the street, the Party accompanied by Garrel and another guardsman go to investigate, Vahlok's the first to see the Ape S.C.U.D as a bright fire reaches around a building and strikes him with a burning fist. Rostam attempts to communicate with it using Speak with Animals, since the creature before them resembles a beast more than whatever it used to. He partially succeeds, able to communicate with it just enough for the giant to decide to kill him last. As the fight continues the Ape goes for Tortilla and grabs him with both hands, the fire enveloping the Ape start to intensify as it tries to crack him like he's a coconut. Garrel quickly remembers something that the burnt guard told him and sprints to help Tortilla, barely managing to wrench open the Ape's hands as the rest of the Party attacks the beast. Angered by this the Ape lets out a huge torrent of flames from his mouth, doing minimal damage to every except Garrel, who until now thought that dying as a hero would be much less painful. Meanwhile Cronwer, doing his best to magically mend Garrel's burns, hears something disturb rubble a fair ways behind him, he quickly gets out of the middle of the street, narrowly avoiding a giant piece of stone speeding through the air as it turns the nearby guardsman into paste.

Climbing above the rubble appears a Centaur S.C.U.D, filling its catapult with debris it's collected in its cart. Fortunately it's only able to fire one more shot at Dave before he and Cronwer take it down, allowing them to refocus on the Ape, which does take much longer thanks to Vahlok tying it down with his chains, and Rostam's mace crashing into its ribs. As it dies the fire inside of it consumes its body and it turns to ash. Garrel rushes up to Cronwer thanking him profusely for saving his life, and insists that he takes a good luck token his family kept as an heirloom.

After sifting through the ash pile, the Party searches nearby for survivors and dispatches with a third group of S.C.U.Ds, effectively clearing the northern half of the city. Next they were decide to cross the canal that separated the two halves of the city.

Little funny things I remember.

Throughout the fights, little bloodsucking creatures called stirges had been only targeting Dave, and when filling up with his blood sometimes they'd be a bright blue, similar to Starlight, but no one seemed to think anything of that. However when 6 or so of these creatures had attached themselves to Dave, he decided to light and explode a small barrel of black powder, resulting in a lot of team damage.

Both Tortilla and Cronwer rolled high enough Insight to realize that Gimi and Timothy weren't who they said were, but Tortilla's player decided he'd be more upset about Gimi's treatment of food than his lies, and Cronwer's player was curious what the Raggedy Man would do if put under pressure. The entirely of Tortilla's introduction was probably my favourite bit of roleplaying we've done this entire campaign.

When Garrel was hit by the Ape S.C.U.Ds flame breathe, it did 55 of his 56 HP, leading me to describe his condition as being "legally distinct from a corpse". The token he gives Cronwer is a single-use item that prevents fall damage, leading Cronwer's player to comment that he hopes Garrel stays away from any ledges he sees.

#chicken plays dnd

[mediocremisterm]

The Party has a Bathhouse Episode

Yep, you read that right! After escaping the previous safe house the party and survivors make their way towards Bjorn’s bathhouse, a surprisingly well maintained bathhouse on the inner edges of the city. When entered it was, just as surprisingly, almost pristine if not a tad dusty and a handful of mildewy towels. Setting up a temporary base in the main lobby, the party split to investigate and look around the building better. A very smart idea.

First group was made of Oliver, Emre, and Hawk as they split to look into the private washrooms the building had, finding, very conveniently, three rooms in the hall. Not to break Tumbrl’s rules, but I will say without a single hint of hesitation Emre started to strip while entering a private room by himself and started a proper bath. This note caught Hawk’s attention, calling it out after a while to find that he was actually kind of late to punch. He’s a quarter ginger, what do you expect from a Tabaxi. Thankfully, the idea was forgotten as soon as he found a wardrobe in another washroom filled with luxury robes, of which the three yoinked for themselves after the bathhouse moment had passed. They were amazing.

Aakran and Verther was the next group, going into the VIP and staff areas to investigate for anything that could be useful or helpful. Ultimately, this search for good things was broken up as the two started to get a bit aggressive with each other, screaming at each other at a level everyone else in the building could hear. Specifically their argument revolved around their differing views and beliefs on ‘The Cycle’, or what they see as how life is meant to play out, and the reasoning for their different beliefs came out to be seen as Verther believed that The Cycle was not real and easily broken, while Aakran saw it as important for the supporting the forces of nature. Of course, these were all put on the back burner after a while when they decided that finishing the current job was more important than their normal, petty arguments.

During their arguments, the trio in the private baths took bets on who was going to kill each other first. That’s not important, just a note.

Finally moving to the last group of Josiah and Otto who remained with the survivors in the main room keeping a sort of watch and sort of hanging around for the most part. Eventually realizing where exactly they were, Otto had taken a step away to the communal washroom in order to rehydrate some. It’s important for a Tortle to stay hydrated! As it is with you, too. Get a water or something. On his way back to the main room Otto had passed a strange door that something he couldn’t explain made him feel strange, leading him to take a - rather light - bench and put in front of the door, which later came to be rather useless as the door was a pull from the opposite side. He’s trying.

When the group met back up, some still irritated from a fight, some in very fanciful robes, and some having just vibed for a fair bit, the party had to go into working around the main room to try and keep it safe as they chose to stay for the night. The actual night, not the weird Broodmother caused darkness. Maybe, it’s impossible to tell. Either way, everyone had a rather boring night and the time that they woke up, a plan was formed.

Investigating the bad vibes door showed that it had went down into the tunnels, just like the wizard tower meaning a potential way to the Broodmother. As the party began their way down into the tunnels they were instantly called back by hearing the screams of the survivors in the main room. Rushing back the party sees a group of four strangely shapeless Skinwalkers that had broken in, either through the barricade or through one of the drains, but it didn’t matter. Right now, there was a fight coming up, and initiative is rolled... for the next session!

#dungeons and dragons #dnd #roots of treachery

[springvaletales]

((Session 53 is here! Actually it was here last week but a lot’s been going on IRL so I only got it all typed up today.))

We’re all kind of braindead, Sir Carl Jaeger’s player can’t attend, and I’m fresh off an interview, so today is going to be all about Shenanigans and little else.

The party woke up at the Whitescale Inn, and Bagelby immediately offered to disguise Lex as an old lady so they could hustle strangers by challenging them to arm wrestle for coin.

Their first victim was Kwara, the pompous human leader of a group of surly teenagers who I described as “an antagonist from an 80’s fighting anime who starts as an enemy but ends the season as your ride-or-die best friend”

Bagelby had so much fun messing with Kwara that he forgot to pick the gang’s pockets.

Ena had planned on setting up her proposal to Asahi today, but Asahi now won’t leave her side, and she’s growing increasingly desperate to ditch her soon-to-be wife in an unsuspicious way so she can set up her proposal.

Thiori went off to find a library and some books about jewelry making, and found a small local library run by three overworked Kobolds who only just took over the library from an elf who had used a long and complicated organizational system that no-one else understood.

Somewhere in all this chaos, Sir Carl went off on his own.

“Are you supposed to tip your librarian?”

I underestimated how much Thiori’s Player loves Kobolds. He gave them all of his gold. Like, ALL of it.

Me: “Was that a ‘sad’ yeah? Or a ‘his mind expanded SO far that day ‘ yeah?”

Thiori’s Player: “Yeah.”

The party met up for lunch (Lex paid with all of the gold she and Bagelby, uh, ‘found’) and Lex was the only one who rolled high enough to spot a mysterious figure armored in white watching them from the rooftops across the square.

The figure shook his head at her like a disappointed parent, and then vanished in a blinding flash of white light.

Lex doesn’t know anything about the local history, but Thiori - who was given the customer service experience of a lifetime by his new Kobold worshipers - knows that the figure matches the description of Whitescale, a folk hero from the era of the Dark King’s fall.

The party decided to get to the bottom of the Whitescale Incident by talking directly to the Mayor....whose house is attached to the local Whitescale museum.

Mayor Twillhopper’s Tortle receptionist is from New Jersey bc that’s the accent I panic-chose and now I’m stuck with it.

Bagelby, excited: “Asahi, didn’t I do good? I didn’t even tell her what we did to the last mayor we met!”

Asahi, screaming inside: “That’s great, Bagel! Please do not utter any more words!”

Thiori wandered into a museum dedicated to the folk hero Whitescale, and met the Tabaxi Postal worker/museum guard Geli (who was more interested in a nap than collecting admission) and a 14yo anime protagonist.

“I refUSE to let Geli get fired.”

Meanwhile, Lex managed to lure the figure she’d seen into a dead-end alley before confronting him, and found him to be a 7ft suit of armor who told her to stop scamming people because it A) wasn’t nice and B) was going to cause more problems for him after she and her party left town.

Whitescale 2.0 clocked for Lawful Stupid.

Whitescale 2.0 also clocked for a ‘Robin, despite me using a DxD image as his reference.

Lex asked him about the Sunfell Cult, and Whitescale 2.0 admitted that the cult has been a growing problem in the town for over a year.

Whitescale 2.0 told Lex to meet him on the roof of the Lightbell Bell Tower after sunset, and vanished when her back was turned.

Back at the Mayor’s house/museum, Mayor Twillhopper is now “Disheveled Bowtie Daddy” (I never should have described him as ‘Bruce-Wayne-but-in-party-mode’).

Mayor Twillhopper has a custom-made wine glass that can hold an entire keg’s worth of liquid,

He and Sir Carl Jaeger have been drinking together almost the entire day. They are both very drunk.

He also has a built-in magical dispenser bar that slides out of the wall of his sitting room and can dispense just about any beverage you can imagine.

Bagelby tried to claim he was over 21, but failed his deception roll, and the Mayor (claiming that he knew what a teenaged boy looked like because he had one) offered him slug juice instead.

Asahi straight up asked the Mayor if he was Whitescale, which he denied.

She also straight up asked him how old he was, as he expressed surprise in hearing that Velenna had taken on a new student (Bagelby), and was told to mind her manners.

The Mayor’s adopted human son, Twyl Twillhopper (14), walked in in through a hallway to the attached museum, and tried to sneak past his father’s guests. He was unsuccessful, and his father called him over to brag about his budding magical prowess.

Bagelby and Twyl got into a magical pissing contest of seeing who could best imitate the Mayor’s appearance using Disguise Self (Bagelby) and Minor Illusion (Twyl).

The Mayor’s secretary walked in to try and get him to sign some paperwork, saw three Twillhoppers, and immediately left again.

They have already figured out half of my plot twist god damnit.

Asahi used a magical acorn to call Ena to join them at the Mayor’s house, but Ena misunderstood the context, thought Asahi was in danger, and broke in through a window instead of using the front door.

This window happened to lead into the bedroom of the Mayor’s son, who freaked out upon finding a strange horned woman in his room.

Asahi ran upstairs when the screaming started, and both she and Ena had to be escorted back downstairs by two very underpaid guards.

At the same time, Thiori found the attached hallway and came over from the museum, and casually asked what he’d missed.

Lex filled him in, startling everyone else, who hadn’t noticed her coming in behind the secretary earlier.

We left off there with the party together at the Mayor’s house, with Lex still to tell everyone about meeting Whitescale 2.0 on the Bell Tower roof.

#OOC #Quarantine D&D

[laurenwritesfics]

The Pieces We Leave Behind

CHAPTER ONE: FRANK

Mary had buried herself in books again. She was a curious and intelligent young girl, but her love of reading was turning into obsession. So much so that Frank was beginning to worry about Vitamin D deficiency. She looked a little too pale. He usually hauled her out of her chair – met with screams and slaps of protestation – and took her to the beach or the park for ice cream, but today, he was piling her into the car to meet with the school principal. Mary had been accused of bullying, and Frank wasn’t going to let it stand.

“This is so stupid.” Mary huffed and crossed her arms. “I didn’t do anything.”

“I know, just get in the car.”

She rolled her eyes, slipping her backpack off her shoulder, throwing it onto the seat beside her. The engine of Frank’s 1974 sedan sputtered to life. Frank’s mother Evelyn called it a rickety rust-bucket, but it was his pride and joy – second only to his sweet, silly niece, who was currently sulking in the back seat.

That was the thing about Frank Adler. He didn’t fix broken things, he just knew when something was worth saving. He saw potential that nobody else could.

He was the first to break away from the family. He was tired, he said, of living a Stepford lie.

This was how he came to be Mary’s guardian. After the death of his sister Diane, the Adler family was irreparably splintered. In the midst of Evelyn’s grief, she had swept Mary up into a life she would never become accustomed to - piano lessons, private school, badminton, early bedtime and absolutely no television.

At just seven years old, Mary was wide-eyed and wise. A headstrong child who sometimes alarmed Evelyn with her ability to face the world fearlessly. Her teachers referred to her as ‘gifted’, which made Evelyn’s eyes light up. She was just like Diane. That was the beginning of the end of Mary’s childhood. Night after night, she would be tucked into bed with a book. As the months went by, childhood favorites were replaced with educational textbooks. Mornings started with a pop quiz. Her social circle grew smaller. She eventually found herself so frustrated by her restrictive life with Evelyn that she once threatened to run away, as children often do. But Evelyn knew that Mary meant it. So when it did finally happen, the thing that shocked her the most was not the act itself, but the fact that, of all people, Mary ran to Frank for help.

At ten years old, Diane scored her first grade A in mathematics. From that moment on, Evelyn decided to live vicariously through her daughter. She had devoted her youth to solving the Navier–Stokes problem (one of the unsolved Millennium Prize Problems), but had never been successful. Frank was the only one who saw her slowly disappear. Forced into a mold that didn’t fit her. He watched Diane suffer through countless socialite soirées, nodding politely, eyes glazed. He was the last person to call her. He found her. He blamed Evelyn.

She would never believe that the cause of death was suicide. Diane was so happy, she said. So intelligent. So perfect. Of course, perfection didn’t exist. She learned this a mere month later when her marriage fell apart.

Mary was the only piece of Diane that was left.

Frank knew that if Mary stayed in Boston with his mother, history would repeat itself. So he intervened. He sent care packages all the way from Florida. They called each other weekly. Six months into what Frank referred to as her kidnapping, he received a phone call in the middle of the night. She was uncharacteristically subdued. Whispering. Her voice trembled. She was trapped. Four hours later he was bundling her into a taxi. It wasn’t going to happen again. Not on his watch.

Evelyn would never forgive him, but he didn’t care. Frank loved his mother – he always would – he just didn’t like her.

The more time Mary spent in Florida, the more she began to dislike Evelyn, too.

It was an unspoken rule that Evelyn was informed of Mary’s achievements. She didn’t much care for the other things – the friendships, the slumber parties, the times she cried herself to sleep from stress and in fear of bullies – those were Frank’s problems. The only problems she cared about were mathematical. She didn’t visit on Mary’s seventh birthday, but she did attend the parent-teacher conference that came after it. Frank was sure that if Evelyn set foot in the principal’s office she would have a heart attack on the spot. So, here he was, driving Mary to school to correct the misinformed adults who believed that his niece was capable of hurting another child.

“Slow down!” Mary caught Frank’s eye in the rear-view mirror. “Mom said never go to bed or drive angry.”

“I’m not angry.” He said, almost flatly enough to mask his frustration.

“Yes you are.”

Frank tapped his index finger on the steering wheel. He counted to ten in his head, exhaling slowly.

“Fine, I’m angry.” He admitted. “These stuck-up bastards don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“Don’t swear.” Mary chided.

“Sorry.”

A short woman with a thin, pinched face emerged from the principal’s office.

Mary was leaning against the window, chin in her palm, counting the trees that passed by, partly to keep herself occupied, partly to quell the anxiety that was swirling inside her. She was always quiet, focussed, and polite. She went out of her way to make friends with the other children. This was entirely unfair. Back in Boston, she had spent time in almost every school in the city – co-ed, prep school, all-girls, but she never stayed too long. She was either too inquisitive, too restless, or – ironically – too smart. Sometimes it felt as though she didn’t belong anywhere at all.

Weaving through the long line of cars in the school parking lot, Frank stopped awkwardly and swung himself out of the car, keeping tight hold of Mary’s hand as they made their way inside. The occasional echo of chatter and footsteps cut through the otherwise silent hallway. The closer they got to the office, the easier it was for Mary to breathe. It was going to work out. Frank would take care of it. He had a talent for charming people into submission.

“Who’s that?” Frank straightened his shirt, still stained with oil and sweat from an afternoon spent fixing up a boat for a local fisherman.

“Mrs Weston.” Mary half-whispered, shrinking in her chair a little. “We hate her.”

Frank huffed, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yes we do.”

Then, an interruption from a harsh, husky voice.

“Mary Adler?”

Frank turned to Mary, slapping the arm of the chair. “Looks like we’re up, kiddo. You okay?” He tilted his head in concern.

“I guess.” Mary shrugged, her shoulders sinking for a moment before she pushed herself forward and took hold of Frank’s hand again.

The woman’s eyes narrowed and roamed over the two of them. She pursed her lips, paused, and finally spoke.

“Principal Mitchell is unavailable this morning.” She said curtly. “Vice-Principal Madeline Weston. Come in.”

Rustling papers. The pronounced tick-tick-tock of the clock on the wall. An awkward cough. Frank shifted in his seat, a creak eliciting from beneath the adult weight it clearly wasn’t made to support. Leaning out of a slouch, elbows resting on his knees, he tented his fingers and waited for the inevitable stretching of the truth. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, locking eyes with the woman who clearly didn’t know Mary at all.

“Do your worst.” Frank muttered not quite far enough under his breath.

“I take it you’ve done this before, Mr Adler?”

“Once or twice.”

A judgemental hum. “Then I’m sure you know why you’re here today. Mr Adler, your daughter-“

“She’s my niece.”

Madeline crossed her legs and adjusted her lapels. “Your niece is disruptive. She is preventing the other students from learning.”

“How, exactly?”

“Interruptions. Selfishness. Questions in math class are answered almost exclusively by Miss Adler.”

“Yeah, probably because she’s the only one who knows the answer.” Frank scoffed.

“Do not insult the quality of education provided at this school, Mr Adler.”

“I’m insulting the students. Mary can do so much better than here. She’s so smart – too smart.” His voice deepened, even and impassioned. “If you just took the time to get to know her-“

Madeline cut him off. “We don’t get to know the children here, Mr Adler. We encourage their talents.”

Frank tried and failed to fight the push in his calves compelling him to stand up. He tapped Mary’s shoulder and made his way to the door. Whether she liked it or not, Evelyn was going to hear about this.

“This is bullshit. Mary, we’re done here.”

Launching herself out of her chair with a scowl, Mary followed Frank back into the hallway.

“So that’s the Wicked Witch of the West, huh?”

Mary exploded into laughter.

The sun beat down on the asphalt as they re-entered the parking lot, hands pressing against searing metal, the air thick and musty inside the car. Frank adjusted the rear-view mirror, turned the key and hooked his arm around the passenger seat as he pulled away.

“Buckle up, genius. Let’s go get some ice cream.”

Read chapter one HERE. Read the full series on AO3.

Permanent taglist: @hiddelstannerbarnes  @redlipstickandblacktea @just-one-ordinary-fangirl​ @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho​ @djeniiscorner​ @its-tortle​ @k347​ @ixalit​ @iguessweallcrazyithinktho​ @cevansfics​ @capchrisevaans​ @hawkeyeandthewintersoldier​ @musette22​ @mcubabydotcom​ @worksby-d​ @chuckbass-love​ @bluemusickid​ @fallinforevans​ @hellobeautworld​ @katiew1973​ @just-dreaming-marvel​ @disaster-dean​ @rebthom89​ @navybrat817​ @just-dreaming-marvel-2​

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#The Pieces We Leave Behind #lauren writes #laurenwritesfics #Gifted #Gifted 2017 #Chris Evans #Frank Adler #Mary Adler #McKenna Grace #chris evans fanfiction #Chris Evans fluff #Chris Evans x reader #Chris Evans x you #chris evans x latina!reader #chris evans x black!reader #OFC #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fic recs

[captainjanegay]

in the lane, snow is glistening | Stucky | Canon Divergent, Winter Fluff, Pre-War, but also Post Endgame | 2.3k words | Ao3

Summary:

Two times Steve and Bucky take a walk through the snowy park.

based on a one-line holiday prompt - "if you throw that snowball, you’re declaring war"

A/N: It’s funny you said you’re in the mood for some winter fluff cause this one is specifically for you. Thank you so much for the prompt, my love  @its-tortle​ ♥ The summary it's basically what the fic is about lmao You just need to add two dumb boys in love, loads of fluff and bickering and a good helping of emotions.

Also - my seventh fill for the @stuckybingo2020​ ♥

The Prospect Park looks beautiful covered in a thick layer of white fluff, sparkling in the morning sun. It only started snowing last afternoon but there's a good two inches of snow everywhere. The park is relatively empty. The hour is late enough for most people to be at work or whenever they need to be but also cold enough for most people to stay at home if they don’t need to be anywhere. Bucky has no idea why he and Steve are outside. It was probably one of Steve's stupid ideas that Bucky has agreed to because there are only a few things he is able to deny when it is Steve who does the asking.

So here they are. Strolling through the snowy, almost completely deserted park on a Wednesday morning. Both shaking slightly in their worn coats, too thin for such weather. Bucky curses himself in his mind. He shouldn’t have agreed to this. What if Steve catches another cold? Even a light one always completely wears him out, tying him to bed for days. At least he agreed to take Bucky's scarf in addition to his own. He didn't go down without a fight. It took almost half an hour of arguing before Steve finally gave up and took the scarf.

So what if Bucky is now trying not to shake too visibly. At least Steve is warm. Ish, considering the temperature, but it's still comforting.

"Steve, come on," Bucky sways to the right, nudging Steve lightly. "We should head back."

Steve nudges him back, pressing his arm into Bucky's for a bit too long. The alley is wide enough and yet they still walk with barely an inch of space between them.

"Just a minute," Steve looks up at him. "It's the first snow of the year, let's enjoy it without your nagging, shall we?"

Bucky rolls his eyes, annoyed. But he doesn't press any further. Damn Steve Rogers and his stupid ideas. And damn his stupid, beautiful blue eyes. Just one look into them and all of Bucky’s common sense flies out of the window.

“I wonder if you still will be such a punk if you get sick again,” Bucky mumbles. Still, instead of taking the left turn that’ll take them home, he goes right, to take another leap around the park. 

“Probably,” Steve grins.

His smile is as bright as the sun. Bucky feels warmer already, just looking at Steve’s happy face. Steve’s eyes are sparkling and he looks content and healthy and Bucky really hopes it’ll stay this way for the rest of the winter. Or forever, preferably. And maybe Steve’s right. The times they live in aren’t the easiest and it’s important to cherish all the little joys they’re able to find.

“I don’t know why I still put up with you. You’re horrible,” Bucky says. The way he looks at Steve says something entirely different, though.

“You’re horrible, too,” Steve points out. “So we’re even.”

A fond smile still in place, Bucky only rolls his eyes and quickens his pace, just a bit to get ahead of Steve in pretend annoyance. After just a few seconds he glances over his shoulder and sees that Steve is crouching down. At first Bucky thinks he’s just tying his shoe but he’s proven wrong soon enough.

“Oh no. Don’t you dare,” Bucky says as he turns around quickly. “If you throw that snowball, you’re declaring war.”

Steve cocks one of his eyebrows up as if Bucky just challenged him. Which Bucky didn’t, he’s not stupid enough to challenge Steven Grant Rogers. But that’s probably what Steve thinks has happened.

So — of course — before Bucky can say anything else, a snowball hits him right in the chest. After a second the hurriedly-made soft missiles are criss-crossing over the park alley. Steve’s not bad but he’s no match for Bucky and his perfect aim. In the last heroic and desperate measure, Steve runs across the alley with a fierce scream and tackles Bucky. Completely surprised by this sudden course of action, Bucky tumbles to the ground and a surprised laugh is knocked out of his chest as he falls.

Steve hovers over him. He has his arms braced on both sides of Bucky’s face. His bony knees are pressing gently into Bucky’s sides. 

Bucky looks up. He looks at the joyous sparkles in Steve's eyes, at the satisfied grin, the dishevelled hair and cheeks reddened by the cold and exertion. The midday sun is right behind him, making it look like there’s a bright halo surrounding him. He’s the most beautiful sight and for a moment Bucky feels like he can’t breathe. This is the sight he wants to store carefully in his memory and take to his grave when his time comes.

In a split second something around them changes. The world turns, a minute ticks by but the atmosphere changes from joyful to something heavier. Bucky’s perfectly aware of Steve’s gaze that flicks to his lips once, twice, before skipping back up to his eyes. It makes Bucky go crazy. There’s nothing that he wants more than to lean on his elbows and kiss the remnants of Steve’s cocky grin off his face. But he doesn’t. The cold ground under his body, the distant voices of the city make him regain control.

“We should—,” Bucky starts, his voice hoarse all of sudden. “There’s people— We should head back home, yeah?”

Steve lets out a small sigh but he nods shortly before scrambling to his feet. When he pulls Bucky back up, their fingers remain intertwined for a moment longer than necessary.

***

The Prospect Park looks beautiful, covered in a thick layer of white fluff, sparkling in the morning sun. It’s the middle of the winter but only recently it got cold enough for the snow to stick for longer, instead of melting the moment it hit the ground. Despite it being almost midday, there are many people hanging around the park. 

It was Steve’s idea to go outside and wander aimlessly through the city. His ideas of fun are a bit different than Bucky’s. If it was up to him, they’d stay in their warm flat and do things that didn’t require getting cold. But after all this time, he still has a hard time saying no to Steve.

Bucky is not a big fan of the cold these days. Sam always laughs that he’s just a big, mean cat that will hiss and scratch everyone who looks at him the wrong way. He calls him the Winter Panther and actually asked T’Challa to adopt him at one point. Sam is ridiculous sometimes. It’s not Bucky’s fault that he doesn’t like to be around people sometimes and that he really enjoys having his hair pet — but only by Steve and Nat. And maybe Clint. Or Sam, but he’s rarely willing to do that. And Bucky does tend to pick the warmest, sunniest part in any place he’s at.

After everything, Bucky just has a pretty bad associations with cold.

Today is fine, though. He doesn’t mind wandering arm in arm with Steve. Bucky’s safely tucked up in his long, warm coat and he has two scarves wrapped around his neck. When they left home he had only one but after walking for a while he confiscated Steve’s. The idiot had it hanging loosely around his neck anyway, didn’t even bother to wrap it once. It’s a miracle that his coat is buttoned up. This man has turned into a walking furnace after the serum. Bucky is convinced Steve’s leeching his warmth to fuel it.

"You want to head home, already?" Steve asks, looking at Bucky with a soft smile.

There's a tiny hint of concern in his eyes. It's easy to miss but after all those years and everything they've been through, there's almost nothing about Steve that gets by Bucky.

"I'll be fine," Bucky grumbles. They both know it's more on principle. "We can freeze my butt off for a bit longer, no problem."

Steve only rolls his eyes at Bucky, shoving him to the side but doesn't loosen his grip on Bucky's elbow.

"Ah, you're incredibly cheerful today, my love," Steve says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"How could I not be? My partner always has such splendid ideas for our daily activities," Bucky answers, with an overly sweet smile.

"You're such a jerk," Steve laughs. 

After a moment, he extracts his hand from under Bucky's elbow and crouches. Assuming that he needs to tie his shoe, Bucky doesn't stop. When he looks over his shoulder a moment later, he audibly gasps and turns around.

"Fuck off, Steve! Don’t! If you throw that snowball, you're declaring war!"

As soon as those words escape his mouth, Bucky frowns. He looks to the side, trying to decipher that weird feeling of deja vu. A memory appears in his head. 

It's a memory from a life long gone, from a park much like this one, from a winter that ended ages ago.

"Bucky?" Steve asks, dropping the snowball and taking a step closer. "You're OK?"

"Yes, it's just—," Bucky hesitates and when he looks back up at Steve, he sees that the concern in his eyes is as clear as a day now. "I've just remembered something. An old memory," he clarifies and smiles fondly. "I believe it was about a snow fight I've had with some little punk in this park. I said the very same thing to him back then. It's not a very detailed memory. And who knows if it actually happened?"

The smile on Steve's face grows gradually with every word Bucky says.

"Oh, it did happen. I actually might know the punk you're talking about," Steve jokes. His hands come to rest at Bucky's waist as he continues. "I'm pretty sure it was him that persuaded you to take a walk and since you've always been lazy, you've had a lot of complaining to do before you agreed."

"Oh, of course. It's not like I tried to keep the little punk from dying of pneumonia or something," Bucky rolls his eyes but he's smiling.

Steve completely ignores his comment. "The two of you walked for a while, didn't talk much but enjoyed the day. At some point he made a snowball and you said the same thing you did a moment ago. It didn’t make an impression on him, though.”

"Because he was a little shit," Bucky smiles softly, pressing the palm of his hand to Steve's chest.

"Maybe," Steve says with a chuckle. "The snow fight took some time and even though you weren't kids anymore it was the most fun you had in awhile. And then he took you by surprise and did this."

Before Bucky properly registers Steve's words, his legs are swept from under him and he tumbles to the ground. Steve goes with him, an arm behind Bucky's back cushions his fall. If it wasn't for Steve Bucky’s habits, both the Winter Soldier and the army ones would already kick in. But Steve is and always has been a calming presence for him. His anchor. So the only thing Bucky feels right now is surprise and a bit of annoyance, probably. No sight of feeling unsafe so he is able to remain calm. 

Steve's face hovers over him, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

"He easily knocked you down. You stayed like this for a bit, just staring at each other," Steve's hand comes to brush against Bucky's cheek.

The look in Steve's eyes is both tender and heated and it makes Bucky forget all about the people around them, about the cold ground underneath him.

"He couldn't stop thinking about how badly he wanted to kiss you, right there and then. Just for a moment he wanted not to care about the people who could see you and how dangerous that could be. It would have taken so little effort to do so," Steve's voice is down to almost a whisper.

As if to prove a point, he leans down and presses a sweet, chaste kiss to Bucky's lips. Bucky smiles into it, feeling the tell-tale prickle of tears in his eyes.

"Who knows if he managed to do that after you'd gone back home."

"I think he might have," Bucky says quietly, swiping his thumb across Steve's jaw.

Steve's face is soft and filled with pure happiness. Bucky's heart feels like it's about to burst simply from looking at him, from all the emotions he tries to store inside. Steve’s beautiful blue eyes crinkle at the corners, his lips spread in a big smile. The December sun is shining high on the sky behind Steve, surrounding his body in a bright embrace. He's beautiful. Even after all those years, Bucky still thinks Steve is the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. Breathtaking. And when Bucky's time comes again, he knows that that is the memory he is going to take with him. 

Since the mere sight of Steve is enough to have saved him from desolation once already. 

"Come on, Buck," Steve says, getting to his feet. "Let's go home."

Feeling a bit hazy from the sudden tide of emotions, Bucky let's Steve pull him up. He leans forward, pressing another kiss to Steve's mouth. Even if no words are exchanged, they both know what the other thinks.

I’m yours and you’re mine and there’s nothing that could make me stop loving you.

After shaking the snow off of each other, they head back to the same part of Brooklyn where they used to live in the previous life they shared. 

Their fingers stay entwined the entire walk home.

.

Title: in the line snow is glistening Creator(s): niallhoranbitches Card number: 065 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27844513/ Square filled: A4 - New York Rating: Teen and Up Archive warnings: None Major tags: Canon Divergent, Winter Fluff, Pre-War, but also Post-Endgame Summary: Two times Steve and Bucky take a walk through the snowy park. based on a one-line holiday prompt - "if you throw that snowball, you’re declaring war" Word count: 2287

#stucky #stevebucky #stuckybingo2020 #stucky fic #stuckyfic #stevebucky fic #stevebucky fanfiction #winter fluff #canon divergent #i hope you'll like it #♥♥ #i finished it at 3.30 a.m. last night lmao #cause i was sure i'll lose it if i stopped writing #hope i've catched all the typos dsjaj

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

Monument Woman

Pairing: Marcus Pike x OC (Rosemary Carter)

Warnings: None

A/N:  Enter Marcus Pike, stage right

Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit.  I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tag List:

@zeldasayer​ , @beskars​ , @coolmaybelateruniverse​ , @the-feckless-wonder​ , @pascalisthepunkest​ , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501​ , @fioccodineveautunnale​  , @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ , @lilkermit14​ , @tortles   [please message me to be added or subtracted]

[PART 1]  [PART 2]  [PART 3]  [PART 4]  [PART 5]

Part 6 – Step Forward, Step Back, Find Your Partner Quick

Helen tried her best to console a distraught Rosemary as Officer Garcia spoke to several of his colleagues in the hallway.  Her screams had startled the director, who was already on edge due to the break-in and if the circumstances had been different, the look of surprise and horror on the officer’s face would have reduced Helen to peals of laughter.  But all the situation did was add worry to her shoulders.

For nearly two hours, the officers questioned Rosemary about the break-in, about the missing piece, and they kept asking if the museum had any enemies. As much as she wanted to say Fred Breyers out of pure spite, Rosemary kept her mouth shut – sure some people weren’t always pleased with some of their program or exhibit topics, but nothing that would result in the theft of an artifact or the physical beating of a staff member.  The two women were exhausted by the time the three cops left the building.  Rosemary laid on the couch in her office, a wet cloth over her eyes as the lingering headache from the attack ramped up under this new stress.

“Rose, are you going to be okay?”  Helen’s voice was soft, but unable to keep the worried tone at bay.

“I honestly don’t know.  That statue was the only thing missing.  I don’t know if I’m upset because I promised Robert we’d care for it or mad as hell that accepting that ugly ass hunk of bronze led to all of this and possibly hurt the museum’s reputation.”  She sighed heavily, the now cool cloth doing little to help her.  She slowly sat up, swinging her legs over the sofa’s edge.

“I wouldn’t worry about our reputation.  I’m already working with Marquetta on a press release to get ahead of the game.  Louis over at the Caller always does right by us, I’ll give him the scoop first and he’ll spin it in our favor.”  Helen leaned back.  “I’ll also call major donors today to inform them of the situation.”

“I’m sorry, Helen.  I never thought this would have happened!”  The younger woman groaned heavily as she tried to stand, but the director held out her hand to keep her from getting up.  The body stilled.

“Did Francois’ report show anything differently than what Robert had given you?”  Before Robert’s health worsened, Rosemary contacted an old friend of hers to appraise the piece as Helen wanted a second opinion for the insurance company.  The in-depth discussion about the findings with Helen was moved back first by Robert’s death and then the attack.  “Are we still looking at the same value?”

“I reread it the day before the attack to prep for the meeting that never obviously happened, and he seems to agree with the assessment Robert gave us. The statue was processed into the collections several months ago and I put in Robert’s information, but never got around to putting in Francois’ report.”

“Well, so long as the original value was imputed into the report, it’ll give us something for the insurance company.”

“Are we going to report it lost?  What if they recover it?”

“Rose, I don’t mean to sound mean, but I doubt these officers are going to find the piece.  Whoever has it is probably long gone by now.”  Helen glanced over at her.  “Unless a miracle happens.”

“Well good thing I believe in manifestation and miracles.”  For the first time in what seemed like a long while, Rosemary smiled as her old humor began to shine through.  The director smiled back, unable to let the infectious comment not affect her.

“We’ll see.”

---***---

Two Weeks Later

“Pike!  Get in here!” Carmichael’s voice carried through the small cluster of offices their department occupied.  “Pike!”

“I’m coming!  Damn, give me a second!”  Pike grumbled as he scurried from his office and across to hers.  She wasn’t a loud person, so the excited shout she gave had everyone around her curious.  As Pike entered the room, he could see his partner standing behind her desk, doing a little hop-dance.  He raised an eyebrow.

“You need to look at this!”  She pointed at the computer, her smile so big it nearly took over her face. He stopped because she was giggling, Carmichael never giggled.  Whatever this was, it had to been good.  Pike came around the desk and bent down to see what she was looking at and when his eyes landed on the screen, his eyes bugged out and his jaw dropped.

“This is one of them, isn’t it?”  Carmichael asked, her voice quivering in excitement.  He ran out of the office to the command center for the cold cases, his presence startling his crew.  He looked over at the evidence board and ripped off a picture hanging in the middle before rifling through one of the boxes to find the corresponding file. He ran back to the office.

The picture in his hand was faded with time, that grainy look of age that pictures older pictures were taking on, but despite those flaws, the sculpture in the photo matched the one in the new alert in the NSAF database.  The Cornucopia had always been breathtaking.

And it’s been missing since 1993.

The agents glanced over the dossier, reviewing the piece to try and discover how this priceless Russian artifact made its way to what looks like a small museum in Western Michigan.  Neither had reviewed the original case file closely and both felt their jaws dropping as they read further and further into its history:

A rare example of the early Ukrainian Avant Garde art movement, The Cornucopia was created by Artem Chumak, a well-known artist from Odessa. Commissioned by the then-governor of the country as a gift to Czar Nicolas II in 1907, the piece was designed to showcase the entirety of the Ukraine in a single moment.  Because the country was known for its agriculture, Chumak chose to use the image of the cornucopia as his inspiration.

The piece is made of bronze and inlaid with the following precious gemstones:

               Siberian diamond

               Ural sapphire

               Ural ruby

               Ural jade

               Russian emerald

               Russian opal

               Ukrainian pearl

Upon the fall of the Russian empire in 1917, Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna Romanov took the piece along with several others from the royal art collection when she fled Russia.  She remained owner of the piece until 1920, when she sold it to the Grand Duke of Luxembourg.

In turn, the Grand Duke loaned the piece to the National Museum of History and Art and it remained with the museum until the outbreak of World War II. The ducal family took the piece back, along with several others to protect the collection from the advancement of the Nazis.

Unfortunately, the move did little good and much of the museum’s collection, including the pieces stored in the ducal family home, were taken by the Nazis, with intention of destroying them as part of the Germanization of the annexed country.

The pieces remained missing until 1949, when a team from the Monuments, Fine Arts, and Archives program (a.k.a. the Monument Men), recovered the stolen collections in a cellar in Hamburg and returned them to their respective homes.  The Cornucopia was returned to the museum and was on display until the ducal family attempted to sell the piece in 1965.  The sale failed and the family remained owners until the piece was loaned to the Luxembourg-American Cultural Museum in the U.S. in 1992.

In 1993, the piece was stolen from the museum and reported to the FBI’s Art Theft Squad days later.  The piece has yet to be recovered despite the best attempts of the team.

Pike looked at Carmichael and they grinned at each other.  While it being reported as missing didn’t mean that they had found it, it did mean that this cold case was heating up.

“Do you think we found our key?”  He didn’t want to sound hopeful, but he had to admit he was optimistic that they were much closer to solving this case.  The evidence they had been sifting through meticulously was painting a picture, but like a jigsaw puzzle, they were still missing pieces that brought it all together.

“I think we have.”  Carmichael replied.  They grinned at each other.

“Whose turn is it to go and do the interview?”  

“Mine, but could you do it?  Marty is out of town on business this week and I can’t leave Dinah alone.”  She rarely asked to trade like this, but Pike held up his hands in understanding.  They smiled, grateful they were partnered up, their work relationship had always been a smooth one.

“Sure, what could possibly happen in Michigan?”

They laughed as they started to walk to the command center.

---***---

Rosemary and Banana walked into the house, both exhausted from the day, the museum’s annual fall field trip event a cacophony of noise and excitement. The program had been exactly what Rosemary needed – something that distracted her from everything that had happened over the last month.  Her stomach hurt all day from her laughter as young kids swarmed the museum in their Halloween costumes.

As she hung up her coat, she caught something out of the corner of her eye on the kitchen table.  Walking over, Rosemary immediately recognized Fern’s loopy handwriting.

Hey sweetie, probate hasn’t cleared yet, but I heard word it should within the month.  Not to jinx it, but welcome to Saugatuck – its’ about time!  I’m also including some keys to Robert’s safety deposit boxes for safekeeping.  You can’t open them until the probate has cleared, so don’t get ahead of yourself! Love you, ae-in.  Always.  -F

“Oh, thank god.”  She huffed as she opened the bulky envelope, dumping out various keys and paperwork, including the deed to the house and the store.  She had an underlying fear that something would happen, and Robert’s wishes would have been overturned and she would get nothing.  “Looks like we’re here for the time being, Baba!”

Rosemary read through the papers and picked up her phone to call Fern. For the next hour, the two women chatted about the changes, what she needed to do to register ownership with the state, and more.  After they said their good-byes, Rosemary pulled her jacket on and patted Banana on the head as she left the house.  It was dark now, but she knew the path through the cemetery and trudged up the hill towards Robert’s grave with no problem.

“You know, I’m certain you chose this spot for some reason or another, but I think it’s to punish me for not getting enough exercise.”  She groused at the polished granite, wondering how she made this walk as often as she did, and it still robbed her of her breath. She was out of shape.  

Robert’s cheeky grin beamed from the porcelain cameo embedded into the stone.  She had never seen anything like it, but he had told her it was common among Eastern European communities.  He described how they used this horribly unflattering photo for his aunt Ionna’s cameo and that he vowed he’d choose his own rather than leave it to his relatives to decide.

She sat down on the damp ground and settle in.  She was still visiting the cemetery daily and while she didn’t cry as much as she had in the beginning, her throat always felt painful after she left.  Wrapping the coat around her tightly she sighed.

“You missed our field trip day.  I know you loved volunteering for it and the kids who remembered you from last year asked where you were.”  She smiled. “I told them you were attending as a ghost and that they couldn’t see you.  I think they believed me.

“I don’t know what strings you pulled up on that cloud of yours, but Fern thinks the probate will clear next month.  I’m glad, this whole process has been a pain and thank you for not making me go through it.  I’d give up and just die if Fern weren’t in charge.  My landlord was mad I’m breaking my lease, but I know you’re excited, you always hated that place.”  She sighed as a wave of sadness washed over her.

“I miss you.”  Her voice crackled with tears.  “I miss you so much, Robert!  I hate that you’re gone.  I hate that! I hate this!  And I failed you!  They still haven’t found the statue and I contacted the FBI and I haven’t heard anything, and I don’t know what to do!”

She cried harder, her ribs hurting as if the pain she experienced weeks ago was still fresh.  She gripped her sides as she continued to sob.   She was tired and everything that had happen in the month and a half since Robert died was catching up with her.  Rosemary sat in the cold evening for hours and let her sadness out.  When she finally left, the exhaustion she felt forced her straight to bed when she arrived at the house.  In a bit of mercy, she slept a dreamless sleep for once.

---***---

“Good morning.”  The deep voice caused Marquetta to turn from the display case she was working on.  A tall man with brown hair and a kind smile stood at the front desk.  She watched as Bob ambled over to welcome him.  She couldn’t hear their conversation after that, but she kept a subtle watch on the interaction as the two men talked.  The stranger smiled again and walked past her towards the stairs and she watched up trudge up each step until he was out of sight.

“You aren’t being very subtle.”  Bob’s voice sounded behind her and Marquetta jumped at the noise.  She felt herself grow hot, grateful her dark skin hid the blush rushing across her cheeks.  She turned to look at Bob, who was grinning at her.

“Who was that?”  She tried to keep her voice steady.

“Some FBI agent wanting to talk to Rosemary.”

“FBI?”  Marquette frowned before her eyebrows shot up.  “FBI!  Oh my god! They’re here!”

“Don’t shout.  It’s rude.”

“No, Bob!  Rosemary reported that statue that got stolen to the FBI!  That means they know about it!  They’re here for that!”

“Does that mean they’ll find the men who hurt her?”  He sounded hopeful at the idea.  Even if he thought her manners were lacking, Bob was deeply upset that Rosemary had been hurt the way she had been.  If this young agent can help find her attackers, he was all for it.

“I bet they do if they find the statue.”  The two stopped talking when Rosemary and Banana entered the building. She looked up and felt awkward when she realized they were staring at her.

“Um, is something wrong?”  She sounded unsure of herself and Bob got angry, realizing that these men didn’t just rob the museum of this ugly statue, it robbed Rosemary of her self-assurance.

“Never, Rose.  There is an agent from the FBI in your office.  Marquetta says you contacted them.”  She startled, not believing that her reporting the stolen item would bring them to her front door.  They were just a small history museum in Michigan, not the Detroit Institute of Art or the Smithsonian.  She figured she’d get an email or a call, but never a real agent.

“They’re here?  Really?” Her eyes lit up when Bob nodded. She started to laugh because she didn’t know what else to do.  Marquetta walked over to hug her and the physical contact help to ground her.

“He’s good looking, too.”  Marquetta whispered in her ear.  Rosemary pulled back at the comment. “Like really good looking.  His butt is cute.”

The two women giggled at the comment and hugged again.  Picking up the leash she dropped, the curator and her furry companion went towards the stairs, hope beginning to bubble in her chest. Maybe she hadn’t failed Robert after all, she thought.  When she reached the third floor, she stopped to catch her breath before walking down to her office.

When she stepped into the doorway, she saw him standing there, looking at her walls.  She couldn’t see his face, but everything about his presence radiated kindness – something she hadn’t expected from an FBI agent.  When he turned to look at her as she cleared her throat, his face lit up in a smile and she couldn’t help but smile back.  For the first time in weeks, she felt safe.

“I’m Special Agent Marcus Pike.”  He held out his hand to her.  She took it with her customary firm grip.

“I’m Rosemary Carter.  Welcome to Fort Jamison.”

#marcus pike #Agent Marcus Pike #marcus pike x reader #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #fanfic #the mentalist

[tactyl-ymon]

DnD session recap - Service and Struggle

I’d been trying to write this recap since mid december because god there’s just so many emotions in game at the moment and it’s very draining to write about. We got a new barbarian and lost one of the rogues as they had to move interstate

We open with a lone figure paddling through an otherwise still ocean as the moonlight silhouettes a large country that wasn't there a month ago. The figure, drawn forward by a feeling in their gut that this is where they're supposed to be, makes landfall and begins lumbering through the forest as fast as her turtle like legs will allow. It is hours of running peppered with the occasional break to curse whoever thought making towns so far apart was a good idea before our new friend sees the telltale signs of town gates, a place called Merigan it seems. As the guards size up the towering tortle laden with weapons, they shakily ask the barbarian her name and what business she has. Donna Tello Tortellini introduces herself and says she's just looking for a place to sleep for the night, the guards look warily at her large frame and then mention if she's got coin there's a tavern nearby that probably had a room, otherwise there's a stable a few streets away if they promised not to cause a ruckus, the last group they had let camp there were just a constant bother to the guards and town in general whenever they came through. 

Donna Tello asks about the group and it being another in a long line of slow nights the guards escort her towards the tavern, surely nobody could be that much of a nuisance? The guards tell her all about the wicked group that calls themselves Tactyl Y'mon, about the time they had pretended to be ghoulish monsters attacking the town gates and the time they'd arrived with a lively boulder that was very protective over a busted old cart that they wouldn't let anyone get near and the time they had managed to save several townsfolk including the town leaders wife and then tossed his house after staying there the night and got several of the guards drunk, stole one of their pants and jumped through a familys roof before screaming and jumping through their window. As Donna Tello thanks the guards for the hopefully tall tales and mentions she'll definitely try to avoid the group if she can, she enters the tavern for the night and to think about where she might find some decent coin to help her explorations.

It's just before dawn the following day as Eridol is startled awake by the telltale whines of his dog signaling that he needs to go out before the very not telltale sound of his dog screaming about how he needs to pee. Which is enough to slip Eridol's already shoddy grasp on reality with everything that's happened the last few days, this has to be a dream … or insanity, who cares, best to just throw away the whole suitcase of emotions at this point and take his suddenly very talkative dog for a walk. The important questions are asked on their jaunt through the keep, “Could you always talk and were just shy?” “If this were fake, you'd tell me right Pickle?” “Where do you enjoy pats the most?” It's around here that Eridol gets a very familiar reality check in the shape of a golden dragonborn standing just outside the gates of the keep talking to one of the guards, former friend and one time follower of the god of murder, Drackuss. 

With nowhere to run, no weapons to defend himself and no backup Eridol is faced with doing the one thing he swore he would never do, have an emotional conversation with someone who shattered his trust. But Eridol still has his last trump card to get out of the conversation. Freeze up and become unresponsive. Whether Drackuss actually notices or not is irrelevant, the former paladin barrels through what amounts to an apology for how he acted when he tried to brutally disembowel one of their companions before going on a one man murder quest across the country, but how Eridol was part of stopping him doing awful things and he owes the small cleric for that. Eridol breaks and shouts that as far as he is concerned nobody owed him anything, whatever help Eridol gave was balancing a ledger or trying to make up for his own failings. Repayment for all the times that Drackuss had saves the party from otherwise lethal blows. Repayment for Eridol being too far in his own head to notice anything was wrong. Repayment for one of the earliest memories Eridol has of the dragonborn spending days in a rundown church trying to save sick children from a plague. That version of Drackuss deserved a second chance to make his own path but Eridol didn't have to be a part of it and that if Drackuss actually cared what Eridol thought they wouldn't even be having this conversation.

Several familiar shapes creep into the periphery during the silence that follows. The remaining members of Tactyl Y'mon, Whisky, Veiraen, Septima and Emmi wander up from the keep as Core, the groups sometimes government contact and Sukaren, a very imposing blue dragonborn who had been in charge of the front lines to the entry portals to the country march up from behind Drackuss. Core begins by formally thanking the group for everything they had done to shift the country back into the prime material plane and that word had gotten around that the group was at least partially responsible for the shift, people were calling us champions and the like and that there would be some exhibition matches being held in the main city and the group was invited to participate in two back to back. That one would offer a much larger challenge, but if the group could come out victorious in both they'd receive a significant reward for the show. 

Core also goes on to mention that there seems to have been some unforeseen fallout from the whole fabric of reality shifting back into place thing. Hundreds of criminals seemingly disappeared in an instant at the time of the shift back to the material plane. Murderers, cultists, thieves all set to wither in the dark for the rest of their lives gone in an instant with no evidence of what happened and with the official business out of the way, Core suggests walking to the nearest town to spend the rest of the day drinking all of that away like the semi-functional alcoholic sponge he is, the group not ever really needing a reason to drink but having just so many they could choose from decide to go with him. Drackuss shrugs, mentioning that he did what he needed to and that Sukaren and him were heading back to Principium to continue training.

As the two lumbering lizards retreat back to their training regiment, half of the group wanders into the keep to put on pants leaving Core and Emmi standing outside in awkward silence as the last moments of dawn fade away. With nobody else around, Core once again mentions that Emmi’s mother, Sharona really wants to talk to her as soon as possible. That she has so much to apologise for and that she had a plan to find out what happened to Emmi’s father all those years ago. That if Emmi was willing, Sharona would be waiting outside of Principium on a ship for the next week. The silence that follows is almost deafening as she considers the chance in front of her. Inside the keep, Veiraen approaches Eridol and asks if he really meant what he said about Drackuss, that everything he’d done was just rebalancing a ledger and whether that extended to how he thought about the rest of the group. Eridol still not quite over everything that happened outside quietly says that he doesn’t know, that he genuinely cares about everyone and is so afraid of losing people he cares about again. Eridol realises what he said and stiffens before taking a breath and apologising. Everyone deserved better than he could offer, but that he would be a better friend if Veiraen would give him another chance. Veiraen agrees before asking if he could stab Eridol again for funsies and the status quo of bickering siblings is restored like nothing happened. 

Several hours and jugs of grain alcohol later, the group find themselves in a tavern inside Merigan and are alternating between loudly trying to guess what they’d face in the fight pits with Core and how to best announce their awesomeness to the waiting crowd, it’s around the third shout of ‘We’re Tactyl Y’mon, we could fight a swan” that the shouts get the attention of the large tortle barbarian who had been sitting at the bar who with the fading memories of the guards saying to avoid the group, she gets up and introduces herself, saying that she had overheard the group was going to be in some upcoming exhibition matches at the main city’s amphitheatre and that she was a decent fighter and was looking to gather some gold for her travels if the group thinks they could use the extra set of hands in the fights. This is basically all the group needs to hear before collectively welcoming her to the rag tag family and then several rounds later getting around to asking her name. With introductions out of the way and a new friend made, the group staggers slowly back to the keep, singing songs the whole way.

In the coming days, the group train half heartedly before making their way to the capital city of Principium. They enter the familiar halls of the arena that the exhibition matches are held in to raucous applause and quickly take a win in the first fight, much to the joy of the crowd watching. A quick break later and they re-enter for the second match. Whatever the group was expecting is blown out of the air as from the other side of the arena enters faces very familiar to the group. Core, Sukaren, Drackuss, Rorstaad the council member, an old lizardfolk monk ally and a lumbering form of a hill giant with a grudge against the party’s cleric all appear across from them and against the superior combatants and the well oiled teamwork of their opponents Tactyl Y'mon quickly begin to fall. Eridol and Emmi fall within seconds, Veiraen temporarily falls shortly after but by the time he gets his footing again there isn’t anything that can be done. It is only 20 seconds after the fight begins that it ends. Sukaren spits that their time is worth more than mopping up such disappointing fodder. The crowd watching all of this sits deathly quiet, no cheers, no boos, no movement as Tactyl Y’mon quietly leaves the arena, thoroughly defeated by their betters.

Minutes later in the waiting room of the fight pit, Tactyl Y’mon sit and lick their proverbial and literal wounds as Core and Sukaren enter and as Core splits off to speak with Emmi, Sukaren attends to everyone else in what amounts to a “I am both mad and disappointed in all of you” conversation she goes over how this proved to her that the group is not worthy of the champions/defenders of the realm status that the commonfolk believed about them. They were nothing but mercenaries who had bumblefucked their way to success, idiots with no real skills or teamwork, just lucky that they hadn’t faced a serious threat. Sukaren dared any one of them to prove her wrong, to say something that would justify how poorly they just performed. We leave the session with Core and Emmi having a whispered conversation about what’s really important and Emmi rushes out of the room in between all the shouting, making her way to a ship docked nearby, wordlessly hugging her mother before helping her pull up the anchor and pointing the ship towards the setting sun over the ocean.

[thebardish]

Orientation

We see a series of scenes; a deep cavern illuminated by large glowing mushrooms with a small caravan traversing a narrow ledge, a fiery hammer sparking against an already red-hot anvil, industrial lights of a submerged city-scape of domes shining brightly against dark water, aerial bands of white marble populated to the fullest with every creature capable of achieving flight, dark forest floors of gangly trees covered in a thick green carpet. Then, we see a quaint study of an old man in a large pointy hat, a deep dungeon-like dugout housing a ragtag group gathering supplies led by a wheelchair-bound silhouette. We see a thin Tiefling chasing after an even thinner Elf, laughing and collapsing together against an old tree, a regal Triton in a think armchair with piles of books, tomes, and scrolls scattered around him, two bright purple eyes form from the darkness and out steps a tall woman, almost floating across the cobbled roads, she darts her eyes across any and every living thing. And then, we are back in the study, a dim candle burns at the edge of a messy desk as lightning gives brief clarity to what he is writing and then a knock at the door breaks his concentration. The dugout is now packed with all sorts of creatures looking to the same silhouette, who’s pointing to a large map on the table with pins. Thunder cracks and dust falls from the ceiling and then it fades to black. We see a pitch black void, and then a light. A flash of bright white light and then an enormous chunk of Earth with a vast array of ecosystems comes into focus. The Academy sits in the vast expanse of nothingness. Inter-dimensional doorways blink into existence and snuff out just as quickly. The Academy has come into being, and that’s where our story begins. 

JOVIS: 

Jovis is struck with a vision: He sees a ring of sparks that turn into large circular flames, and a hooded figure clutching something to their chest quickly jump through and vanish. He sees himself as a child, but from outside himself. He is swaddled in a tight crimson blanket, the same blanket used for the back portion of his cloak. He recognizes the location, it’s Mimi and Momo’s front doorstep. He remembers this scene from a third-person point of view, looking down onto himself. 

Jovis awakes in his room to the smell of pancakes. Mimi and Momo are playfully arguing and Jovis grabs a quick bite before running out to meet Oliver at the courtyard. Oliver spills the contents of his backpack and tries to build a tower with the copious amounts of energy drink cans, but Jovis crushes all but one. 

Hathor pipes up and says, “Jovis, why are you friends with this excuse of an Elf?” and follows it up by insisting. “You are at an age where you should learn the extent of what it means to be my vessel and have my power flowing through you.” Jovis agrees and fires his first actual spell, a large purple fireball into the final energy drink can. He hits it directly but as he does there is an overwhelming feeling within him.

Sekhmet, a voice Jovis has never heard before, speaks up and says, “Back off, it's my turn to shine!” and without moving or initiating anything, two more purple fireballs shoot off past the crisp of a can and burst through the window leading into the library. 

Jovis freaks out and runs away, trying to find his way home or an adult to try and fix this, but he finds instead a large set of engraved Oak doors. He pushes them open and is stuck mid-fall and an invisible conveyor belt tracks him to the center of the room. Someone is already waiting in this room.

CAL:

Cal is found in the Library. He zones out and replays the last fight he had with his father. He stands opposite to his father, flanked by Cal’s younger brother Prince Zelzes to the left, and to the right is Roven Silverspear, the king’s literal right-hand man. The argument is nothing of note, besides that Zelzes and Silverspear interject with belittlement by name-calling and undermining his side. He returns to his bedchamber after training that night to find something is off, the hallway is just a little too quiet. He stands back at just the right time before his doors are blown off and guards try and storm in. He makes a break for it. He manages to injure one of the attackers before fleeing.

He spends a week on the lamb, ducking in and out of the public eye and trying to derail the search for him. He overhears talk of his disappearance, with no mention of the assassination attempt. He develops a split personality to cope with this newfound trauma, and towards the end finds himself cornered in a supply warehouse. The guards are closing in and in a last ditch effort to get away, he summons a rectangular portal of frosted glass that lights in the darkness. He gauges his options and jumps through. 

Cal unfurls a scroll that details The Sicarius, a group of Grung assassins known for their use of poison and ability to sneakily topple unruly governments or monarchs. He scans it with more detail when suddenly a large, purple fireball blasts through the window right above his head and begins to burn the Library. Cal jumps up, and knocks over his ‘to read’ pile, where a tome falls open and has a large picture of Adrian, followed by a brief description. Adrian is a Grung who helped found the Academy.

Shelby, a high elf, screams for help because a second fireball has smashed into the Library farther down, causing a bookshelf to fall and pin her. Cal rushes over and lifts it up, allowing Shelby to escape. She thanks him graciously before running off. 

Cal rips out the page about Adrian and stuffs it into the scroll about The Sicarius, and runs. Cal finds his way to a set of large Oak doors, he checks them for traps, but doesn’t find any. He takes a step in and is tracked into the center of the room, where he stands and briefly after, a Teifling almost falls in. 

THARA:

Thara finds herself full of so many emotions as she points to a carriage with The Baron of a far off land, but corrects herself at the last minute, letting go a blast of pure necrotic energy, decimating and reanimating the horses. Her outburst turned the attention of the onlookers to her, and she ran. The two guards make chase, almost catching up to her, but in a brief instant of clarity, she stops at a shimmering pond of silver water and her reality shifts. Instead of jumping downwards, she is spit out sideways out of the backdoor of a restaurant. 

Thara is now in an alleyway, and she makes her way out and into the street of a bustling farmers market, and across the way she makes out a pink skinned, wheelchair-bound Dr. Cantaloupe holds a plastic bag as his adoptive daughter Cherry zips around and fills it up with assorted groceries. 

She rushes over to him and immediately collapses at his feed, sobbing. He helps her up and brings her to a park bench overlooking a large lake. He explains how the Academy works and how everyone here was once a newbie. Cherry hops up and sits next to her, playing with her hair or asking questions about how she got there.

They sit and talk for a bit, enough time where now Dr. Cantaloupe and Thara are walking and talking through the hallways of the Academy. Dr. Cantaloupe looks around and registers that Cherry isn’t with them, and as he gets a little nervous a loud explosion blows dust into their hallway a few intersections back.

Dr. Cantaloupe wheels around and speedily disappears around a corner, leaving Thara alone. She investigates the explosion to find the Library is alive with flames, and across the hallway are two large Oak doors. She looks around and enters them, and just like the others, is tracked to the center. She is last to arrive. 

COUNCIL ROOM:

All three are now within the Council Room, where they are stuck in place, staring at a wall of thrones. In the center, an old Human Wizard sits. He has a large pointy hat and a long white beard. He is clutching a staff in one hand. On either side of the wall of thrones sits two doorways with swirling black portals in their frames. 

To his right sits a towering robotic humanoid with eyes of all shades covering most of her metal flesh, she has eyes seemingly everywhere besides where normal people have eyes, where she has a large red gemstone for the right socket and a large black eye patch covering the left. On her shoulder sits a mini throne where a blue and green Grung sits. 

To the right, sits three large, but ultimately normal-sized thrones. Two on ground level and one positioned above their heads in the center. On the ground sits an elderly Tortle. Next to him is a young, dirt-stained Svirfneblin, and above them sits a dark Kenku with a bow string across his chest. 

The party hears a voice, and they can tell it’s coming from the Council, but none of them are moving in any way. The voice says, “This Council has presided over the Academy of Adventurer’s since its inception. Now, The Chosen, The Lost, and the Re-claimer, find their way into this hallowed hall. You are here for a reason, yet none of us called upon any otherworldly deities to bring such a group here. There must be another reason for strings as intertwined as these,” and the voice pauses, as Dr. Cantaloupe, with Cherry on his lap, comes bursting in.

Dr. Cantaloupe shakes a finger at the council and demands the doorways out of the Academy are fixed this instant. He’d like to, at the very least, have the option of leaving and returning to his family. Cherry even jumps off his lap and makes a game of running through the portal and being spit back out into the room. 

The Council speaks up, “The exit doorways are free and open to use for anyone who needs them, just as the Academy is.” This frustrates Dr. Cantaloupe. He apologies to the party before leaving to wait outside, since the Council seems to not be answering their questions. “The Doctor seems to be not a fan of our Academy, all he has to do is leave,” the Council says.

RESISTANCE:

Dr. Cantaloupe is waiting outside the door, still calming down. He explains of a place they can go that will be safe to speak of such private matters. He leads them down a hallway and taps the wall in a design and it slides up and over to reveal a hallway. Cherry speeds down into the darkness and out of sight. He then creates a sigil of sorts with his hands and begins to lift himself up. His wheelchair folds up into a briefcase and he floats down. The stairs are a rough stone and the walls and ceilings are dirt. 

At the bottom, there is a landing that splits in three. To the right is a locker room, the left a bunk house, and forward to a long meeting area. Dr. Cantaloupe unfolds his wheelchair and sits down on the opposite side of a round stone table. He leans back and folds his hands and tells the players he will answer any question they have. 

The Resistance was formed as an underground and covert way of learning more about the Academy. They learned that the Academy heals itself overnight, almost exactly at Midnight. When he found out none of the exit doors were working, the Resistance changed into a full-blown operation to fix them and find out why they aren’t working in the first place. 

Dr. Cantaloupe slides contracts to each member and offers them a safe haven to train as well as learn more about what’s going on. Each person signs the contact, and with the last one being signed he brings the party down a more secure tunnel, this one with sparse lighting from bulbs until they reach a stone doorway that the party walks into. There are no lights in this room and Dr. Cantaloupe explains that to be a part of the Resistance they need to prove their might, trial by combat style. The three of them were taken to the Council Room for a reason, so having them in the Resistance is more than beneficial. 

The party defeats the Purple Wormling and it disintegrates, only to be brought back the next day. After that, The party splits up. Jovis runs home, waking up Oliver and shouting at him about the very eventful day he had. Cal meditates in the lake to gain some clarity, and Thara prays to her god.

#orientation #d&d #dnd #prologue

[arclundarchivist]

[Spoilers C2E98]

*Turn back now if ye have not seen the lastest episode!*

*Do it. Seriously.*

*Ya gonna want turn around now, not kidding.*

They’d tried, the diamond had floated above Fjord’s chest, flickering with green light only for it to turn grey and dull, falling to their friends bleeding chest before burning away to ash, he’d learned.

He’d been brought back with little resistance, Marius letting out a loud a sigh of relief as he and Yasha pulled the Tortle into a seated position. Jester had latched onto the Tortle, joyous tears pouring down her face even as she couldn’t bring herself to look over at Caduceus and Fjord’s body, the Firbolg staring at the sky with a muted expression.

Orly started, “Hey there Chere, wh-.”

He froze when he spotted the Captain.

Splayed across the deck, several gaping stab wounds in his chest, his blood being washed away by the hammering rain. His head was rested in Beau’s lap, who had her head down and was visibly crying, her tears mingling with the water already pouring down her face. Caleb stood several feet back, staring into the waves beyond, his face hard, his eyes searching, hunting. Fire briefly crackling across the tips of his fingers. Not-Veth was kneeling beside Jester, rubbing her arms comfortingly as she sobbed into his wide chest. Yasha loomed above Fjord, her head turned upwards towards the sky, a flash of lightning illuminating her entire face.

“We can’t fix this tonight.” Caduceus had finally muttered, his normally calm and warm voice more dejected than the old Tortle had ever heard. The others had all turned to look at him, except Jester who had begun to cry harder.

“But we can fix this.”

A single beetle flitted free of the Firbolg’s staff, landing on Fjord’s forehead and sitting there a green ripple of energy passing across his whole body.

Yasha had carried Fjord’s body down into the lower quarters of the ship, past the rest of the crew who looked terrified and confused. Jester had detached from Orly and was now wrapped around Beau, who hugged her back tightly, both women failing to hold back their tears. Veth had grabbed Caleb’s hand and lead him after them. Caduceus had remained on the deck, that tornado of beetles that still swarmed about, consuming what remained of the beasts that had killed the Captain. He waited for Orly to pass, supported by Marius and then made his way below.

The Nein piled into Jester’s room, laying Fjord’s body down on the bed. The insisted that the crew join them in the room as cramped as it would be, Marius, Gallen and the Newbie had grabbed their things and curled into a corner. Caduceus had sat in a corner facing the bed, slowly, fitfully falling to sleep sitting up. Veth, Beau and Jester had curled into a ball next to the bed, the other women wrapping around Jester protectively. Caleb had threaded a wire across the door, but he and Yasha had not entered the room. They sat sentinel outside of the door, and Orly heard them speak quietly throughout part of the night as he fought for sleep.

Scrabbling on the side of the ship, the tortured scream invading his dreams, the blade finding his flesh

He awoke the next day to clear skies and found that Gallen had taken the helm, while the Nein were arrayed on the deck

He walked up onto the deck and saw Fjord lying on the deck his head resting on Jester’s lap, his sword lying across his chest, Beau off to his right and Caduceus to his left. The rest of the Nein stood with solemn expressions.

Caduceus produced a larger diamond and began to chant, green light shining as the diamond began to float, sigils of green, and pink and blue burning their way across the deck, the sents of fresh tea, sugary pastries and old grapes drifting on the wind.

Beau spoke first, “You told me…you wanted to stay with us. That we had to stay together. That you wanted to repay the favor for helping you find your path. You’re invested…and so am I but I don’t think I can do this without you here. So you had better come back, Captain.”

She laughed slightly, tears running down her face. She reached out and placed her hand over his heart.

Caduceus spoke next, “This isn’t your time. You changed, you started to find your path and this is nowhere near done. There is no closure here. She has plans for us, and I want you there to see them. Come back to us.”

He sighed softly, looking towards the sky and then placed his hand over Beau’s.

Jester spoke last, a smile on her face and tears in her eyes as her fingers traced through his hair.

“We talked once about how the prettiest things often hurt you the most, but I never thought I would hurt this much. You, heh, you were my first friend after the Traveler and I…I…I can’t even begin to imagine what my life would be like without you now. So please, please Fjord, come back.”

The colors began to swirl, and in the moment the others moved in, Veth placing a hand on Jester’s shoulder, Caleb Beau’s, Yasha Cad’s, and at that moment Orly felt a compulsion to play like he never had before.

He immediately began to play his pipes, the music taking on an almost ethereal sound as it echoed across the waves. He stared down at Fjord’s form as the light continued to shine.

“This group ain’t the same without you Cap’n, come on back now.”

#critical role #critical role spoilers #cr fjord #cr beauregard #cr caduceus #cr jester #cr orly

[lunarlover12]

Where Everything Went Wrong

Summary: The story of my character, Igi, and her party when we were all very sure this was going to be a TPK.

After searching for months, the party finally found the location of the green dragon mask and race to get to it before the Cult of the Dragon. But things don't go as planned when they get there.

Ao3

“Wait, I see something up there.” Igi said as her grip on Nox’s hand tightened. He squinted his eyes as he tried to see past the darkness into the room ahead.

“I don’t see anything,” he grumbled and Igi cracked a smile despite the ominous feeling settling in her gut. Together, they stepped into the large chamber with its high ceiling and almost ancient looking pillars supporting nothing. To either side of them was a small area that held a pool of water in both of them, set back in the walls a bit. Directly in front of them on the other side of the room held a larger pool of water. There was a large archway just in front of them and Igi glanced to her side to the elf.

“I don’t trust this,” she whispered as her wings twitched uneasily.

Nox looked over his shoulder to the rest of their party as he motioned to the seemingly empty area. “Let Igi and I check it out first. Make sure there’s no traps or anything since we don’t have to touch the floor.” He turned his attention back to Igi and squeezed her hand one last time before letting go. He activated his boots, a faint blue magical aura radiating off of them, as he put one foot then another to the wall. Igi flapped her wings and took to the air, taking a deep breath as the claustrophobic feeling she had had in the cramped hallways left her.

The two carefully made their way further into the chamber as the rest of the party stepped just inside the doorway. Nox jumped from the ceiling to land on top of the archway in front of them as Igi moved off to the left side towards the water.

There was suddenly a loud noise as the wall behind the rest of the party slid shut. Ibuck immediately tried to push the rock again but they were efficiently locked in. The sound of water rippling then spilling out filled the silent room as four creatures crawled out from the pools at their sides.

They looked vaguely like crabs, only on two legs and shards of obsidian sticking out from all over their body. They screamed something in a foreign language before they started to charge at them. Igi gripped onto her halberd before dragging the blade across her palm to activate the radiant energy she channeled into her weapon, flying towards the closest pair of… whatever these things were.

One of them ran right underneath Igi towards the other party members while the other climbed the wall to leap towards her. The impact made Igi fall into the opposite wall and she scrambled to knock the creature off of her as it dug its claws into her armor.

Nox drew an arrow and sent it soaring into the creature’s head. The limp body fell from Igi and he turned his attention to one that had figured Squanchy was a good target.

A bright light shone from the dead body that lifted up into the air before going into one of the older looking pillars, lighting up a small orb that rested on top.

The tortle dug his shortsword into the monster as another arrow lodged itself into it’s back. As Squanchy kicked the body away from him, another light flew into the pillar and he narrowed his eyes. He glanced towards the other two monsters who were occupied with Ibuck and Srrow. “Wait! Don’t kill them!” He shouted out, but it was too late.

The sounds of fighting stopped only to be replaced by something scraping against the stone. The walls in the back of both of the outcroppings were pulled back to reveal a short hallway that leads into a room that they couldn't quite see into.

As Ibuck finished her monster off, she felt something creep into the back of her mind. She looked down at her axe as she adjusted her grip to see a strange black smoke emitting from the weapon that wrapped around her hands and crawled up her arms. Her mind went blank and all she could think was attack. Defend herself.

She looked up to those around her, her eyes focusing on Talis’ half elf figure. She took one step forward when the ground below them rumbled and the water from the bigger pool spilled out from the edges. A large skeletal hand reached up from the water before it slammed onto the ground so who or whatever it belonged to could pull itself up.

Squanchy's grip on his short swords tightened as he charged to the front of the group, placing himself between the new threat and his friends as he readied himself for an attack.

Ibuck tore her gaze away from the new enemy and settled onto her smaller target. She charged at the half elf who was too preoccupied to notice. With a yell, she brought the axe down onto Talis and grinned as blood sprayed.

Igi looked back to where she had heard Talis’ scream come from but couldn’t see her. “Tal?” She called out.

“It’s Ibuck! Igi!” Her sister cried out before she was silenced with a resounding thwack. Igi’s eyes widened as she flew closer to where she had last seen Talis. And there was Ibuck with her axe held up ready for another strike standing above her unconscious sister. Igi grit her teeth as she focused on her patron and thought of Talis’ wounds healing. A gentle golden glow radiated off of her that transferred to her sister, some of the smaller wounds starting to close. Talis’ brown eyes flew open again and she tried to back away from Ibuck before her back hit the wall.

“Ibuck!” Igi screamed out as the axe was swung once more, knocking Talis out again.

Srrow watched as the skeletal remains of the warlock Hex’rath stood up straight, eyes an eerie purple glow and a twisted staff in his hands. The undead eyes seemed to train past him and Srrow followed the gaze to see what was going on and shook his head. “We don’t have time for this!” he yelled out as he pulled his harp from his side. He strummed a quick chord and a circle of thorns grew from the cracks of the stone floor to surround the ancient warlock. There was a loud yell as the magical thorns cut into him.

Squanchy glanced back behind him and hesitated for a split second. Without much of a second thought, he abandoned his position and ran towards where Ibuck and Talis were, letting out a flurry of blows as soon as Ibuck was within reach.

Igi’s wings fluttered angrily as she sped towards her orc friend. She crashed into her and knocked them both back a few feet even though it felt more like ramming into a wall. Igi placed herself in between her sister and the orc as the light seeped out of her body and into Talis once more. Talis gasped for breath as she tried to crawl away from the two.

Ibuck’s eyes focused onto Igi and she snarled as she brought her axe around to slam into the aarakocra’s side. Igi cried out in pain the same time Nox released an arrow into Ibuck.

Srrow looked from one threat to the other before his eyes locked onto the newly opened passages. With one last glance back at the skeletal warlock, he took off towards the closest doorway. "Just find the mask and run!" He yelled.

"But what about Ibuck?!" Squanchy called after him just before he was forced to duck his head into his shell to avoid a swing from Ibuck then popped back out again.

Srrow cursed under his breath. "Forget about her!" He stopped in his tracks as there, atop a stone altar, sat the green dragon mask that they had been searching for for months. He quickly glanced over it for anything that looked like it could be trapped before he grabbed it. He took a deep breath as he picked it up, flinching as the ground rumbled again.

Ibuck fell to the ground with Igi, Squanchy, and Nox surrounding her. Igi and Squanchy shared a look before the tortle reached down and healed the orc's wounds. Igi held her halberd at the ready as Nox drew another arrow and aimed it at the waking form of their friend. Ibuck's eyes fluttered open and it took a moment before they focused on Nox, narrowing slightly. Her hand reached towards her Dwarven Thrower and Igi brought the blunt end of her weapon around and knocked the orc out once more.

They would have to deal with her later.

The three turned their attention to the warlock who was now running at them. Igi flew straight up into the air before he got to them and Nox took the opportunity to jump down from the archway in favor of running to the side of the room. Squanchy merely stood his ground and dodged out of the way when the staff was swung towards him. Talis made her way along the wall to put some distance between her and the fight, crawling towards the safety of Nox.

There was a loud roar and then an adult green dragon came soaring out of where Srrow had ran to, slamming into Hex'rath. The unexpected force made the warlock stumble a few steps back as he turned to face the snarling beast. It took in a deep breath and let out its breath attack, encompassing everyone around. Igi watched from above as her friends were assaulted by the poisonous gas, not missing the way Ibuck’s chest stopped moving with her breaths. She had to pull her eyes away from her now dead friend to focus on the threats in front of her.

Nox cursed under his breath as he pulled back another arrow before letting it fly, hitting Hex’rath in the side. He wasn’t sure how much damage his arrows were actually doing against the skeletal man, but every bit helped right now. The puzzle box he wore on his belt felt heavy as a pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders. “Now seems like an excellent time to use your last wish. You’re friends are dying, Nox,” the ethereal woman whispered in his ear. He shook her off as he pulled another arrow out of his quiver.

“I don’t have time for this right now.” He mumbled.

The woman shifted around so she could be seen yet still out of his way, arms crossed in front of her chest but a smile on her face. “I can help you like I did last time. Make everyone nice and healthy again, or even teleport you guys out of here. Let me help, Nox.” She persisted. He watched as Squanchy fell to the ground from a swipe by the dragon and he clenched his jaw.

“Fine,” he growled out as he turned to face her fully. “I wish that the dragon was on our side.” The woman’s smile broke out into a grin as she raised her hands. Nothing seemed to change on the battlefield, but suddenly Nox felt sick. It was almost like something was moving inside of him before his world went black.

Talis watched in horror as Nox let out a scream that was abruptly cut off as a monstrous hand erupted from his stomach. The armor and skin split as blood spurted out and some kind of beast crawled its way out from Nox. Talis put a hand over her mouth to try to keep the contents of her stomach in but was woefully unsuccessful. She could hear the sound of the remains of Nox’s body flop onto the floor and then the squishy sounds of whatever had came from him made its way towards her.

Igi looked over to the sounds of screams just in time to see Talis once again fall unconscious. She tightened her grip on her halberd as she held back tears. There was nothing she could do right now; not with all of her healing magics expended and the only other healers currently unable to do anything. She retreated to the far wall as she threw out one of her easier spells towards Hex’rath. The warlock turned to her and casted something back that flew her into the wall and dropped her to the floor.

“Wake up!” A familiar voice sounded in her ears. “Wake up, Igi! You’re not done yet!” Her patron ordered. Igi’s eyes fluttered open and she sat up, her hands automatically reaching out to find her halberd. She felt herself calm down a little as her hand wrapped around the wooden shaft of her weapon. Her eyes scanned the room to see that the dragon seemed to have taken care of the monster that had appeared out of nowhere and was now facing off Hex’rath by itself.

Igi pushed herself to stand up as she reached her hand out to cast another spell. It hit the warlock in the back and he turned around to see where the magic came from. She gave him a smile just as the dragon raked its claws through his bones. The remains of the undead warlock fell to the ground noisily and Igi felt herself collapse against the wall in relief. The dragon turned to look at her briefly before it began to shrink in on itself until Srrow was standing in its place. “What the fuck?” Igi whispered to herself.

Srrow reached into his pocket to retrieve the diamond he carried with him for just an occasion. He knelt down next to Squanchy’s body before placing the gem on the tortle’s chest with a deep breath to try to steady himself. He pulled out his harp and began to strum a few chords as he sung quietly. The diamond shattered as he sung the last word and the last chord of his harp faded out.

They waited for a heartbreaking moment before Squanchy gasped loudly and sat up. Igi collapsed on the floor beside her best friend and wrapped her arms around him, ignoring his complaints of germs as she clung to him desperately.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

#luna writes #where everything went wrong #igi wahee #squanchy #srrow #ibuck #nox #talis #hex'rath #weww #dnd #original characters #character death #violence #graphic violence #blood//

[fuck-customers]

I Finally Got My Ass Out of Retail Here Are Some Of My Favorite Stories

So I finally got my ass out of retail and I am over the moon. Five/Six years of retail drama in various contexts are DONE. I'm in a better position now thank goodness but I want to share some of my favorite stories from my time in retail, sort of in chronological order:

- My first job was at the Orange Apron Hell. My store was the busiest and highest earning in the entire district so the overhead phone was constant. Now, this was my first serious job so I took it very seriously, and I was also quite young and not cynical like I am now lol. Anyways, because Hell Depot is a hardware store, we naturally aren't a Buy Electronics Best or Depot of Office Supplies. We do have an electrical dept, but it's a hardware store, so it's mostly lighting and electrical fixtures such as copper wire and whatnot. The overhead phone is going nuts and so I decide to pick it up because I was bored. "Cesspool of Orange Misogyny, how may I direct your call?" "Computers!" "...Excuse me?" "I NEED YOUR COMPUTER DEPARTMENT." "...I'm sorry ma'am we don't have a computer department..." "YES YOU DO." "No we don't." "YES!!! YOU DO!! I'VE SEEN IT!!" "Ma'am, I assure you we don't sell computers here." "How long have you been working there?!" "Eight months." "ASK YOUR COWORKER WHERE YOUR COMPUTER DEPARTMENT IS." "Ma'am we do not have a computer department..."

"YES YOU DO. It has the special internet cords!"

Now...we DO sell ethernet cords. So I told her it was the Electrical Dept. that she needed but I did explain that we only sell the cords, some USB drives, and then the electrical components to computer wiring. She kind of had an epiphany that it was Electrical that she was looking for but before she could make a fuss I transferred her.

- Second story was the time I worked in a high end sewing machine dealer. The machines we sold were on average $8,000 - $10,000 and made in Europe. They were NICE machines and all jobs considered, this was probably my best retail job, even though it presented it's fair share of challenges.

Our clientele at this job was mainly retired, rich white ladies. Because this business was a small family one, a lot of the admin work was done by hand, including ALL of our quotes. We had quotes that were five or six years old, and periodically, we'd have to sift through around 500 of them and contact each and every one. And because most of our clients were older, many did not have an email, only a phone. One quote I called an elderly gentleman picked up and I asked for his (assuming) wife, and he somberly told me she passed away six months ago. Yikes.

But the call I want to talk about is this older woman I called regarding a machine. I cheerfully introduced myself and she cut me off mid sentence to say, "I'm very sorry dear, you must speak up, I have hearing issues and you need to speak louder and clear." So I up my voice a notch. "I'm sorry I still cannot hear you." Ok, up a notch. "You have to speak very slowly!!"

So I slow down a bit. "Slower!!"

Finally, when I get to a good point for her, I'm basically yelling while taking three to eight seconds to slowly pronounce each word (yes, even the "I"s', "a"s', and "no"s'). The salon next door could hear me I was so loud. And at one point she couldn't hear the name I was spelling out, and she asked me to be louder, and if I were to be any louder I realized I would be quite literally (and I mean QUITE literally) screaming into the phone, at the point which I suddenly broke down laughing (my coworker did the same). I genuinely felt bad for doing so as being hard of hearing is nothing to mock, but the fact I was holding the mic on the phone so close to my mouth and away from my ear and yelling into the thing just...broke me. I apologized (she didn't hear me laugh) and eventually hung up once we were done, which afterwards my throat was sore for three days.

- The final story I have is from my most recent retail job at the Co of Pet. Nearing my last day and this lady calls... "Why do they call some cats Tortles?!"

"...Do you mean Torties? As in Tortoiseshell?"

"Yes!! Why do they call them that?"

I proceed to explain to her that it's simply the pattern of their fur that earned them that name, but she was not convinced. She didn't understand that Tortoiseshell cats were no different from any other cat, and demanded to know how they got their name, even though I just told her why. She also asked,

"Do they have sharp fangs?"

Again, I had to conceal my laughter as I bluntly told her every single cat in the world has sharp teeth, it's part of their evolution.

"But are they sharper than other cats?! Is that why they're called Tortles?!"

I'm beyond the point of caring and I'm a cynical bitch now so I'm rolling my eyes, and my tone definitely indicates that her questions were dumb as shit. The whole conversation lasted about 15 minutes and it was mostly her trying to figure out why tortoiseshells were called "Tortles" and if they were, essentially, cats ("Do they bite?" "Do they scratch?" "Do they have sharper claws than other cats?"). ANYWAYS for any of you looking to end the vicious loop of retail, there is hope, I believe in you, and I hope these stories make you laugh!

And finally FUCK CUSTOMERS ESPECIALLY ONES OVER THE PHONE

#submissions #fuck customers #cashier problems #happy ending #fuck retail #submission