#(ooc: WHY DID THAT LAST BIT RHYME) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

voidcat · 3 years

Text

– a case of bad luck

2. a deal (with the devil)

m.list ; prev ; next ; wc: 2.1k

a/n: society if i could w r i t e,,, anwyays i feel im making mafia dazai ooc? i hope not, ive just began the light novels dsfdg uh yea i'll probs update once a week (depends on how often i can write)

Insisting he leaves you off at the station, you let out a breath of relief for the first time in hours. Unsure he may still be following, you change directions few times, walk fast and use shortcuts only locals of the neighbourhoods know to get him off your track. Just in case.

The next day he doesn’t show up, neither does he the day after. Not knowing how to feel or what to think about this, because there is no way he will let you slide off this easily, you do your best to resist the relief.

And soon later, it blurs back in your head, like smoke dissolving, like a bad dream.

But the unease never leaves. Neither does the feeling of being watched.

Then one lunch break, your eyes get fixed on a spot by the sidewalk and you can swear it’s the same clothes, the bandages, the posture and the look and everything crashes down back on you again. You do your best to linger and change directions as many times as you can on the way home that evening. Nothing goes wrong that night, or the day after or the day after that. If the false of sense peace were to go for few more days, you think you’ll forget all that happened again, too focused on school or whatever your friends recently bringing up.

A bell to mark the school hours ending, walking outside, caught up in whatever you’re discussing and he just stands there, like it’s nothing, like he belongs to his peer group, missing some of the bandages you saw on his face before, clothes not sticking out like you thought they would.

He stands there and smiles your way.

You think, you’ve never wanted to punch someone in your life as you do in this very moment. Just to erase that smile off his face.

In your view, he only gets bigger with each step, the flock of students you’re stuck in only walking towards where he waits and you look around for a way to sneak out but nada! Nothing! And your friends have grown suspiciously quieter than the usual. Stealing glances from one another and from you, the snicker like they’re sharing this little surprise for you.

Shorter than calculated, you find yourself standing right in front of him.

No words on his end and the expecting looks on you make the air tense.

“Hi… Dazai!” You say at one point, fake enthusiasm clear, not that they seem to mind nor realize. “What brings you here?”

“I was just in the city as you see. And decided, what better time to surprise an old friend than now?” The smile vanishes for a moment, the forced school play act making you want to roll your eyes but he puts a hand on your shoulder suddenly, you wince and shake his hand off, and he continues. “So, have you got the time to show me around and catch up?”

“Do I have a choice?” Followed by a dry laugh, you look back to your friends who only seem satisfied, makes you wonder what kind of lie he sold before he got here. His smile grows wider in reply.

You sigh and start to walk by his side, taking a step a second later than him to keep a distance and to see where you’re headed.

“What did you tell them exactly?” your curiosity takes the best of you as you reach a traffic light.

A little ‘huh?’ coming from him, he turns back to glance at you, the sun behind his head makes his height apparent. The short lived look of asking he gives you dies as he tilts his head “I only told them a cliché story, assumed they’d fall for cheesy scenarios such as that.”

Red turns green.

You take a step by his side, no more following behind. “Which is?..”

“That we were old friends with a shared history of potential intimacy and I wanted to take you out now that we are back together again!” He says it like it’s so usual.

The two of you reach the pavement and continue to walk, never faltering.

Letting your eyes linger on him for a while, you turn your gaze back on the streets as the sense of familiarity begins to vanish. “I didn’t take you for the romcom type.” You say at last as you stop.

“I’m not.” He doesn’t spare a glance this time. “I just know someone who likes them.”

The number of people around decrease with each step, the air gets colder –maybe it’s your nerves. The light starts to fade and not a word has been spoken for quite some time. Not that either of you were dying for some get-to-one-another.

When he speaks again, you don’t hear it at first. “Your ability-”

You halt with a stomp of your foot. “I don’t have one.”

He narrows his eyes in annoyance, “Your ability must be based on some form of speech, as Akutagawa served a good example that night.”

The name barely rings a bell in your memory.

“Question is, what kind of speech it requires? Does it rhyme, should commands work, shall it be sang, like a siren?”

“These are all excellent questions, except for one big missing piece…” you answer. The mention of something missing seems to get his attention. “…That I do not have an ability.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he huffs, the ever growing annoyance levels can tell alone you’re pushing the little bit of luck you have.

“Then how did Akutagawa pass out exactly?” hands back under his coat.

“There was blood on him? Maybe he’s sick? He definitely looked the part.” You say as more of a suggestion than an answer.

“The men inside the building. The one with his internal organs out.” Words get colder with each breathe.

Yours fade as his grow colder, “Maybe the other captured guy did it?”

“You don’t sound sure, weren’t you right next to him?” suspicion of a knowing parent hinted in his voice almost, he already must’ve figured it all out that night.

“I…” the pavement looks gray, stones crooked, countless fights must’ve gone through here before.

“I don’t know.” From the edge that connects the floor to the walls, you try inspecting each dull color behind the lifeless filter, not acknowledging him standing there doesn’t feel any safer but it’s preferable to those eyes.

His lips don’t move but the ‘You don’t know?’ is heavy in the air.

“I don’t know! I don’t remember!” someone’s yelling reaches your ears. “I just!-“

The yelling was yours, your arms fall back, go back up and you hold yourself, “I was… singing? To calm down… And the rest is just a blur.”

When you look up, he looks as disinterested. You consider yelling, asking for an explanation, what he’s thinking; it’s not that hard to piece it all, you think, but this demeanor rubs you the wrong way. The longer the silence goes, the eerier it becomes, the emptiness of the alley you’re standing in stands out. The lack of people, noise, light, it’d almost crash down on you if it wasn’t soin the open ever since he showed up.

“The words you spoke to Akutagawa. Are they from a song?”

“The ‘go to sleep’ you mean?” you finger quote the lyric, “it’s from Beach Life In-“ you stop with a shake of your head, “it’s from a song, yes.”

When you look again, it feels like an adult waiting for a child to connect the dots in front of them, like you’re the only one in the world who hasn’t figured it out already.

“But it makes no sense.” Hands on hips, eyes focused on a pebble near your foot, “I mean- it’s not like I haven’t sung before?” You turn then, start to pace, a hand on your forehead to push back the few strands brushing against your forehead.

It starts to warm up, or feels like it, each strand of hair just there, existing, leaving its weight on you, tickling, annoying, bothering; suffocating-

He cannot be right, can he?

Sure, self-awareness can change for each person but something so important as an ability shouldn’t be missed that easily… being a stranger to yourself when a stranger figured it out in mere seconds- it’s ridiculous, it simply doesn’t make sense, he must be wrong or confuse you with someone else, how can it be that bad, how can my perception be that bad, what else did I miss if all this is true and happening-

“Despite how the Port Mafia appears,” his voice pulls you out of your head, “ability users is not such a common occurrence. And surely the ability to affect your surroundings, or make people act certain ways is one we cannot let go of.”

I should drink some water, a part of you says when you gulp at his implications, ‘we cannot let go’ just gets out of his mouth and stays right in front of you, in bold jet black letters.

“What you should ask yourself is if you felt anything during all these times of singing…” silence feels enough of an answer, hyped up or not there isn’t much to feel, much to wish for. “Or if the words you snag back then were for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” “What did you feel that night?”

“Typical fight or flight response? Adrenaline, instinct to survive?”

“Stop assuming and start being more confident.” (like that night) a part of you yells, in his voice, though his is devoid of any emotion. You don’t want to learn how he sounds when he yells.

“I wanted to get out.” You try again. “Not to survive but to avoid death or whatever was awaiting me until that.” Sounds more like you, you straighten your back. “I didn’t want to stay any longer to see what they’d do to me so I found a way out.” He almost seems pleasant to hear the change in you, maybe it’s time to surprise him a little more.

“So let’s say,” you start pacing again, less like rambling and more like an animal circling, not a prey but a threat, because that’s what he is, what he has been and will be, “that I have an ability that I can use only when my emotional capacity is at a certain level… why would a mafia executive want me to have a better understanding of it?”

The radius decreasing with each step, you end your steps right in front of his face “what makes you think I won’t use it, right now, on you?” each pause between the words to make it clear this is a threat, no more of the power balance he held over you for too long. Your back to the beginning of the alley, you’re ready, in case he is one of them –if not, he might still have a gun.

He doesn’t falter, not a hair on him moves. Until he chuckles, at you and your words.

The vibration in his voice, nor the laughter reach his eyes.

“There are quite a few reasons why this won’t do, like how you cannot use it.”

The confidence in his voice makes the truth more unbearable.

“And besides, even if you managed to use it, it wouldn’t take me long to stop you.”

“Are you that fast?”

“Are you?”

This marks the end of it, as much as it pains to admit he is right, a part of you doesn’t want it, doesn’t feel the same sense of danger and survival to run away.

And regardless of all the threat he possesses, he doesn’t seem all too willing to get rid of you.

Rolling your eyes, you turn and walk away to the blinking store lights from the street. A second set of footsteps catch up to you in few long strides.

“So what is this then? You’re going to help me use my ability and leave me in debt?” reaching the traffic lights, you step onto the road without batting an eye.

“Why would I agree to something like that?” the car drives by, almost brushing your back. The sun has begun to set already, the colors mixing together.

The wind carries away his words but you catch them just in time: “You have a family and a cat, don’t you?”

You stop and look up. “Not a cloud in sight. Was it a sign of a rainy day to follow?” ignore the implications, don’t think about the faces. “A cloudy day perhaps, I always mix up the tells of the sky.”

“I’ll be around.” And he leaves with that.

43 notes · View notes

pebblysand · 3 years

Text

OF CRYSTAL ROSES (EXTENDED AUTHOR’S NOTE OF CHAPTER VI. OF CASTLES)

-- TO READ THE CHAPTER ITSELF, SEE HERE ON AO3 --

well, well, well. here we are. spoiler alert, gryffindors make plans they don’t stick to, lolz. all the good intentions in the world, i had. study, i said i would. yet, here were find ourselves, eighteen thousand words later. this appears to be how i roll. slept about five hours last night, too, so apologies if i’m slightly non-sensical/rambly. this chapter ought to be sponsored by deliveroo and teapigs tea, a brand of tea that appeared in my local supermarket a few moths ago and that i steadily refused to buy because - can tea really be worth this much? low and behold, once you’ve tried it once, it appears to be addictive. i’ve, while writing this chapter, worked my way through about four packs of their different teas - they are just this good. i have a job interview tomorrow so wish me luck in gaining employment which will hopefully fund my expensive habits.

now, before we get into the nitty gritty of the chapter, itself, i just needed to say this: i cannot thank everyone enough for the incredible response on last chapter. i’d kind of grown accustomed to getting a couple of reviews for each of them and to writing in my little corner of the internet but boy, you guys are bloody legends! i am so overwhelmed with gratitude for everyone who commented, kudo-ed and generally gave love to this fic in general. i really didn’t expect such a response and it’s meant the world to me. i think it’s probably also the reason why i’m posting so early because i kept being like, god, i can’t leave this many people waiting in this cliffhanger hell. i think this chapter ends on a more positive note (although, i’ll let you judge), one that might be more conducive of a few weeks’ wait (more on that below), haha.

this being said, as i explained on here before, i come from very tiny fandoms where basically everyone knows each other and the number of people reading would usually fit in my flat. the fact that over 80 people are now subscribed to this fic just blows my fucking mind. you’re all magnificent and i love you. i try to respond to all the comments so let’s keep chatting if you feel like it (although, no pressure - comment if you want to, but do know that it makes me very happy when you do :)). you’re all fabulous and i wish you all the best!

anyway, spoilers for castles, chapter vi under the cut.

guys, guys, guys, i am so tired. i’ve spent four days editing almost 20,000 words and my brain is fried. but, we are officially at the halfway point of this story, yaaaay!!! my plan, at this point, is that we’ll have six chapters on each side but even if i do end up splitting this one later (more on this below) i’ll end up with seven chapters on each side so either way - yay to the end of act 1!

i think that’s also why i tried to turn this chapter around this quickly. to me, i always kind of saw this fic as having two parts. part 1: the immediate post-war aftermath with the heartache and the love-fast/burn-fast start to harry/ginny. part 2: a slow and actually healthy rebuild of their relationship, and of the world around them. i have genuinely been writing towards that last harry/ginny scene in this chapter for months. it feels like such a relief to finally have that weight off my shoulders. and i actually do think it’ll allow me to focus on study later. act one is finished, and act two can wait a bit, i suppose.

now, obviously, given that i already apologised last time, part of me still wants to apologise for the length of this chapter, even more so, actually. it sits at about 18,000 words which, by nanowrimo’s standards, is over a third of a full book, wtf. yet, you guys also said last time that you didn’t actually mind long chapters, so perhaps i shouldn’t beat myself up too much?

as i said in the a/n, this is a little bit of different set up than chapter v. though. i know exactly where to split this. as you’ve probably seen by now, there’s a very natural split point after harry has his breakdown on the couch with ginny, before Christmas properly "starts." the reason i didn’t split this one there, though is: a) selfish: i needed to get this out. stop working on it. i need to study. when it’s out, i’m not thinking about it anymore. it would have been a bit non sensical to split this just for the sake of it and post two chapters at once, which means i probably would have held onto the second part for another couple of weeks, and fuck that. additionally, b) you may not have noticed this but: the chapter titles rhyme. why did i bring this additional difficulty upon myself, i do not fucking know. especially because i will soon run out of one-word construction materials to draw from, lol. as a result, though, i need an even number of chapters to close out this story and because i’m sort of planning six chapters from now to the end (more on that below) i can’t really split this one right now. like, if i end up with another overlong chapter in the next few months, i probably will take that opportunity and go back and split this one, just for readability. but at this stage, at this stage, because i don’t know how many chapters i’ll have for act two (six or seven), i’m keeping this chapter like this for the time being. i kind of hope i end up with seven chapters on the other side and am able to split this one down the line, but we will see. in the meantime, my most sincere apologies to the folks who read fanfiction before bed and it’s now 4 am by the time you’ve finished this. i’ve been there before, believe me.

from a personal standpoint, though, i have to say, this chapter (compared to the last one) was incredibly easy to write. i think i’d spent so much time imagining and writing these scenes in my head as kind of a culminating point for the first half of the story, that it quite simply poured out. i did have a little bit of an everything is shit crisis yesterday and today, but sure look, that always happens. overall, i am quite happy - i think - with the end result.

now, when i say "easy to write" i mean, technically, easy to find words to write down what was in my head. i do not mean: easy to write on an emotional level. oh boy. i’m generally not a crier. i have been asked, a number of times, by people who said my writing made them cry: do you cry when you write, too? and my answer was always ‘no’. i don’t judge, but i’m just not that kind of person. i know people who cry every day but personally, we are in the middle of a pandemic, my father recently passed away, i’ve lost my job and am studying for an exam my life is pretty dependent upon, and i haven’t cried in months. yet, i swear, there were a couple of times, both writing this and editing it, when i had to step away from the screen because i could feel a lump in my throat. that had never happened to me before. i didn’t, like, bawl or anything but god i felt it. i don’t know if it’s because it’s my first time killing an oc, someone who was really mine but boy. giulia. i kept trying to find ways not to kill her, or apologising to her. to me, she’s tom’s last victim and that really, fucking hurts. if you’re hurting too, i don’t really know what to tell you. i’m sorry, i suppose. her death was needed for … plot purposes, lol. god, i’m the worst haha.

re:harry/ginny: i must say i really like where they end up, at the end of this. i had planned this to a certain extent. i was always under the impression that they would talk over christmas, but not get back together. however, the reason why they weren’t getting back together, in my head, was initially quite different. i initially didn’t have ginny dating someone else. i think i mentioned i was toying with the idea in the a/n for last chapter, but at the time i wasn’t truly sold on it. then, i ended up writing the scene i’d originally planned for them and it didn’t quite fit. what i’d planned, at the time, felt rather ooc for ginny when actually on paper. on the other hand, harry, under my fingertips, kept trying to kiss her and i kept hitting the delete button. i swear, i know it sounds weird to people who might not be writers but sometimes, your characters really do seem to have their own agendas. when i caved, let him kiss her, then the scene took on a different meaning, and, i hope, a better one. i think something clicked there and it feels like a good place for act one to end. obviously, they’ll get back together cause this follows cannon so you know, not much suspense there. it’s more about the how than the what, to me.

re:ginny’s letters: this idea came to me a while ago, actually. i was thinking that they’d need to talk about what happened last year, but i was kind of struggling on the how. having character a tell a story to character b is always a bit difficult, in writing, because it can quickly end up being boring. like, when ginny tells harry about christmas last year and lupin, in this chapter, telling that in dialogue is already rather long an laborious, and it’s overall such a short story. for harry, it’s easy. i’m in his head so he can just say ‘he told her about the hallows’ and the dialogue can be about their reaction, rather than the events itself. but ginny, she needs to share facts, as well as feelings. and doing that through long monologues just didn’t appeal. first, it’s quickly boring and second, it’s also kind of ooc. she’s not giulia, you see.

i did entertain the idea of completely skimming past it. ‘she told him about last year and he was horrified.’ - moving on. but, i don’t know, that didn’t feel quite right either, because i think they need to exchange, and talk, and that just felt like a copout. also, to be honest, it’s a very difficult story to tell. like, i’ve seen people in fics being like ‘so, harry sat down all of the weasleys and told them everything the trio did in seventh year,’ and i’m like that’s so difficult, though. sitting someone down and telling them all about your trauma, with little preamble, just setting it all out there, i can’t imagine ginny (or, frankly, most people) actually doing that, you know? we reveal bits of ourselves bit by bit, not all at once.

then, it hit me: she’s a writer, isn’t she? at least, she is canonically in first year, with not only the diary but also the poems, then writing for the prophet. obviously, the diary thing would have riled her up a bit but i do think in the end, she would probably have been like: no, i won’t let him take writing away from me, you know? so yeah, letters. daily letters. you won’t see all of them in next chapter, but probably quotes from the most important ones, things that harry reads. that’s where he gets his facts about her story last year, and then they can focus on their feelings about it. fab! something to look forward to, haha.

now, re: the future. as i said, we are entering act two. act two will gradually become more "fun" and fluffy, i suppose, but i won’t lie, we will be keeping the same happy/sad vibe that a lot of you have commented on with this fic. it exists for a reason (as i said, life is about sex, but it’s also about funerals). as i said before, this fic is, above all, an exploration of what ‘all was well’ actually means.

this being said, this isn’t an 8th year fic. there is a very specific future pov from which this fic is being narrated, and that’s in october 2027 (i know, precise). obviously i have 28 years to get through in act two so that will affect the way that the timeline is designed. it will obviously be more spread out, especially in the later chapters. this being said, while i have about a million of ideas for all the space in between and a very clear view of what the last chapter will be, the exact layout of each chapter is still slightly blurry. i haven’t sat down to put all my ideas in chronological order yet, as well as into some sort of chapter structure, which is also why i can’t really tell if it’ll be six or seven chapters in the end. all of this to say, there’s still quite a bit of work to be done.

this means that, as i said in the a/n, i don’t think you’ll get next chapter until at least, may. please don’t think that this means i’ll be abandoning this fic or anything, it’s just that i’ll be doing work you probably won’t see. i’m probably going to take the rest of march off writing to study (bar maybe a roar-series Harry&Hermione friendship one shot? maybe) then take april to plan and write as much of the next chapters i possibly can. ideally, by the end of april i can have a first draft of the whole thing. i desperately want to write as much as i can now that I’m jobless in the hopes that when i do find a job (again, interview tomorrow, pray for me), i can just have editing to do at the weekends. but we all know i relate to harry on a very deep level when he says ‘when have our plans ever worked, anyway?’ so we will see, haha.

anyway, these were all the thoughts off the top of my head, re: this chapter. if you have any questions or other things you’d like me to ramble about, feel free to send in questions, my ask box is always open. i know i probably think about this fic (and hp) way too much but i’m an extrovert and my hobbies used to include travelling, pints at the pub, dating and, well, there’s none of that anymore, is there, lol? the uk has stolen our vaccines (fucking brexit) so here’s to being obsessed with fictional worlds i wish i could live in for a while longer,

i will now go and endlessly refresh my email for reviews and kudos, like the attention seeking basic bitch i am haha.

have a fab evening, everyone!

#castles #is out baby #whoop whoop

6 notes · View notes

selectedhq · 4 years

Text

oh , wonderful ! welcome welcome , let’s get this show on the road , shall we ? not like we have the rest of our afterlife to dwell upon , am i right ?

well , i would like to officially welcome you to the good place . i’m sure you are all wondering why you are here , but we will get more into that later as we experience the afterlife as a whole . take a look around , these are your neighbours , friends , significant others & your community members . during your time on earth , all of us here at the good place , had taken it upon ourselves to watch you carefully & take careful consideration in picking you , specifically . we have our own point system , which you will see on the screen behind us , where you would gain simple points such as holding a door for someone or handing some money to someone that was less fortunate as you . we did track some of the negative things that you have done in your life , but they ---- usually balanced out the good . the overall existence of this place was built with you and for you , you were chosen for a purpose & we hope that purpose will become clear to you during your stay here . now , we shall begin with the briefings .

LOCATIONS

i’m sure that you have noticed that this place is quite large ! we have many establishments throughout this town & they were all made to fit the likings of our fellow community members .

𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄

where you will find a lot of marine life and water . i’m sure that many of you who have enjoyed water during your time on earth have found yourselves situated in a home directed that way . you will find canoes and row boats that will allow you to enjoy some peace on the lake , as well as a beautiful waterfall just around the bend . while here , we encourage you to take a look around the ponds , we have some amazing fish that would love to have some of the food that is sold in the downtown area . we also encourage you to take a nice hike up the waterfall , with a cliff right off to the right . once you hit the destination , maybe have a wonderful picnic with a loved one or try some cliff diving if you were much too frightened before on earth .

𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄

the wooden area that many people enjoy when they need some peace and quiet . there are a few households within this neighbourhood , usually selected for people who enjoyed the seclusion and warmth of being connected to nature . our local greenhouses are kept up there , you can find some wonderful plants that you could take home or take a few selfies with the help of kimmy to hang up in your home . we also have the community garden out that way , where you can grow your own vegetables or even help gather some ingredients for the restaurants as some extra credit options towards gaining more points ( yes , you can still gain them here ! ) . we have a few trails within this area as well , where you can feel one on one with nature once again , where the sun will beat on your face ; you can practically hear the bugs buzzing around you !

𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄

where many of you may usually find yourselves , it allows itself to be integrated with the downtown area just behind you . you’ll be able to see the large households that are within that area , where many of our community members are staying , either by their lonesome or with someone they believe to be close to them . in the north side , you’ll find a lot of educational things , including our school for the afterlife . the school is still working out some last minute kinks alongside our trusty kimmy , but will be up & running within the next week , so make sure that you take some time to visit the campus & take a good look at the classes that will be offered . we would love to keep you educated on things around the good place during your stay here . while school can be quite boring , i’m sure we can rope you all into attending with the small bribery of flying ! you have all witnessed it briefly during our halloween event , but we will be having mandatory flying lessons for everyone who joins the school in the beautiful courtyard out back . you like gymnastics ? well we can find you some balance beams . football ? well what is the afterlife without some tackling ? cheerleading ? well you’re in for a treat because i sure would love to hear some fun rhymes ! you name it , we got it .

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄

is currently under construction , so we do ask that you avoid that area at this moment . the weather is not corresponding correctly to the systems we have put into place & we definitely do not want a mix up with any of you . so please , we ask that you do not move past the colourful rainbow tape that is surrounding the south side until the construction of that area is done . we are working very diligently to get it up & running as i am sure many of you are hoping to find yourself located in that wing !

𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍

the place that you will always find yourself wanting to come ! we have a little bit of this & a little bit of that for everyones liking . there are local restaurants around town that will serve you anything that you could dream of ! many of which could be your favourite meals , favourite drinks ---- oh & did we mention the endless options for desserts ? if you look around , we also have endless froyo stations ; many of which will have flavours that create a very similar feeling to joy & happiness . ever wonderful what it would taste like after getting straight a’s on your exams ? what about the feeling of warmth after being outside in the cold all day ? well i’m sure we can mix up something for you ! we also have entertainment sectors such as bars , clubs , even a movie theater to play your favourite movies from when you were on earth ! bookstores , florists , clothing stores , you name it ! it may look a bit confusing on the outside , with you questioning our tastes but we have never questioned you & i cross my heart that the moment you walk into any of our stores , you will always find something tailored to your specific tastes !

i am sure that you all have many questions , we are here to always help you ! we shall go over the wonderful rules that we have in the good place & what is deemed appropriate .

RULES

there will be a zero tolerance violence policy . although we do not have the jurisdiction within the good place to arrest , but you will be losing points with violence .

you are free to ask kimmy any questions that you deem necessary , but they must be appropriate . kimmy will refuse to answer anything that is not needed .

as stated earlier , we will not allow anyone in the south side of the good place at the moment . if found there , you will be brought into my ( michael’s ) office & punishments will be discussed between the architects .

WHAT IS THERE TO DO ?

well good question ! you are able to sign up for the local school classes that kimmy will listen later in the weekend , we do hope that we get some good responses ! we’ve worked hard to coordinate the classes ! we also allow you to work in the local agencies , but please be aware that money is not a thing in the good place ! you do receive points towards your community involvement & that will boost you up on the scale in the architects system . we welcome you to join the local clean up group that dedicates themselves to cleaning up any possible garbage that is fluttering on the streets , or maybe you are interested in the party planning committee , which is usually run by tahani but we would love to have more people join & put in their ideas !

LITTLE THINGS TO NOTE

be aware that the good place is tactical to your needs & wants . if you don’t enjoy someone using a curse word , then your mind will blank it out & possibly replace it with a new word . if you are fluent in another language , we have all implanted a translator in your mind . although someone might be speaking english to you , they could actually be speaking french or spanish but you are able to translate it instantly .

housing units are there for your liking , if you would like to move in with someone , we will allow that but please run it by kimmy or myself ( michael ) to let us know that you will be moving so we can use your old home for something enjoyable for other community members or reinvent it into a new home for someone that will be joining us .

lastly , we do not want to overwhelm you today , so if you ever have any questions please let kimmy know ! kimmy is programmed to know every answer in the universe & she will be at your beck & call . all you have to do is call her & she will appear to answer anything that you need . the architects are quite busy making sure that this place is designed properly , which allows kimmy to answer questions for us . anyways , without further ado , please ! explore all the fun things that are surrounding you , we can’t wait to begin planning more things !

SOME OOC DETAILS

this plotdrop isn’t as dramatic as the future ones will be , but we tried to answer most of the questions that have been floating around !

this plotdrop is to show you the amount of things that your character can do around town & the jobs that they could do if they want to boost their points ( like characters that don’t believe that they belong here - they might want to boost their rating by helping around the community )

as said ! if any characters or muns have questions -- ask kimmy ! make sure that you follow the blog for kimmy , where you can send messages to ask her about things around the good place or questions about anything you need to be answered ! she will definitely answer to the best of her ability , it will allow the architects to start fixing up that nasty south side .

if asking kimmy a question , make sure that you start the question with ‘hey kimmy !’ so that she knows to appear to answer the question you type in the askbox.

you are welcome to continue your event threads , we just ask that you don’t make any new starters at the moment for it .

we will also be introducing meme days this weekend , so definitely keep an eye out for that one !

if you have any questions that kimmy can’t answer ( something ooc that could be bothering you ) then don’t hesitate to message the main admins , we will make sure to help you out !

#selected.plotdrop

5 notes · View notes

starkastichotmess · 3 years

Text

@legacydefined asked: ;;time for a random positivity message! ngl I really admire you!! we don’t really talk ooc but I’ve seen how much work you put into not only tony, but your other blogs too, and it baffles me how anyone would have the patience or ability to create so much, and yet here you are!! doing it three times over!! your tony is amazing; every time I read something from him I can hear it in his voice, perfectly clear. you have his mannerisms down pat and you are so good at setting a scene, honestly, it’s inspiring!! you’re doing an incredible job and I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day!!

If this seems a bit disjointed, please understand that I’ve felt like absolute shite for the last several days between having a ptsd episode the other day triggered by a tornado siren test and then my blood sugar being severely out of whack today thanks to hypoglycemia, so my brain is kinda ‘nnnh’ right now.

BUT!! jdhfksjdhfjhasdkhf!! Thank you?!!!!

Listen, getting a character’s voice right is like... absolute priority for me in my writing, because dialogue comes far easier to me than descriptions (a bit ironic, considering my own social anxiety disorder that at times leaves me completely nonverbal to where I end up resorting to what sign language I know).

So the fact that you hear Tony so clearly? My reaction?

(There really is a SPN gif for everything, isn’t there?)

This arrived just as I was closing out of doing some coding (updated the interactions page over on the Doctor Who multi), which is that “extra coding work that I do for my blogs that I need for accessibility purposes but omfg time consuming”. It’s a good thing I actually find coding relaxing (most of the time, so long as I don’t forget a semicolon or leave a tag unclosed and have to go searching through hundreds of lines of codes to fix it), given how I kinda... overdo some of it, I guess?

Let’s see... Four blogs housing 27 full muses (not including the irregulars and npcs), of which 7 of them are original (or canon-based) characters? And honestly, that’s not even scratching the surface of how many characters I could write, given I also write fanfic and original fiction for fun outside of tumblr? But that means 27+ muse dossier pages, some of whom have multiple tabs per muse thanks to AUs and such (mostly Tony and Layla, since their backgrounds change more drastically between AU verses than most).

Yeah... I don’t know how I manage it either most days, honestly. Besides having literal decades worth of coding experience, which is why I’m more comfortable doing coded pages. Plus it makes working off templates a hell of a lot easier when I can speed up the process with multiline find & replace (extremely useful for things like the tag pages and whatnot).

But again, thank you. You had magnificent timing with this, honestly, because things have been difficult and stressful lately, which is why I’ve been kinda... all over the place without any rhyme or reason. But this made me smile and get all butterflies-ly (totally a word now... shush, I haven’t slept yet, and I’ve lost track of when the last time I did sleep was... Don’t emulate your own muse’s bad habits, kids; though I’m just dealing with chronic insomnia as per usual).

Also, we can absolutely chat ooc. I’m just one of those people who unless a) I have something specific to say, or b) I know with certainty that sending absolutely random stream-of-conscious thoughts at you at any time of the day or night (sometimes while being half-asleep myself because I woke myself up with the thought and have to send it immediately or I’d forget) is perfectly acceptable and even encouraged, then I often won’t say anything at all since I abhor small talk and will actively avoid it as much as possible.

The latter of which often leads to me using chats on discord as notepads for “omg, here’s a thing for this muse!” and then dropping unexpected fluff or angst on them so that I can work it into things later.

Like for Tony’s Mass Effect AU, where I came to the realisation that for his fear of space to remain intact while he’s living on a bloody space station and where intergalactic space travel is very much part of his daily life through Stark Industries, he’s going to end up having to get spaced. And not just through a hole in the hull of a ship or anything, but something akin to the wormhole all over again, just with a twist of who caused it and what he finds on the other side.

On that note, I really do need to try again to get some sleep. Or to at least lay down for a few hours again. But thank you again! I love you! 🥰💕

#legacydefined #don't like people handing me things ( random asks )#life model answering machine ( ooc replies )#this stays with me ( save tag )#long post

1 note · View note

szlachtas · 4 years

Note

1-25

Wasn’t sure if this meant 1 and 25 or just all of them! So I answered all of them. Long and ooc under the cut:

1. What’s their full name, how’s it pronounced, and what does it mean?

Ieuan Wyn Parry - Pron: YIGH-Unn (Rhymes with Ryan) - Win - Pa-ree

Ieuan is a welsh form of John, which just means 'God is gracious'. Wyn is a name variant of Gwyn, which means 'White'. Parry is a shortening of Ap Harry, which is an old Welsh patronym meaning 'Son of Harry'. None of this means much to their character, I just liked how it sounds.

2. What’s their date of birth? Do they follow the stereotypes of their zodiac?

Sixth of February. Is he stereo-typically Aquarius? Eccentric loner, awkward with emotions, independent to a fault, easily bored, intellectual but stupid, detests limitation. Yeah, I'd say so.

3. What type of drunk are they?

Giggly idiot. A bit more openly affectionate. Bad decision machine go brrr.

4. Give three of their strengths and three of their weaknesses.

Strengths: Imaginative problem solver, High INT, amiable.

Weaknesses: Avoidant/independent and stubborn about it, Low WIS, selfish as shit.

5. What’s their favourite food?

Aside from blood? They have a real sweet tooth, especially for berries.

6. If they were to be represented by a seven deadly sin, which would it be?

Pride. Idiot.

7. Do they have any living relatives? If they do, which one do they like the least and why?

They like to hope their mother offed herself, just so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about leaving her like that, but she is still alive. Everyone else in the immediate family is dead, so her by default. Maybe he has a cousin or something?

8. Describe (or draw) their body type.

It changes, but can be defined as a very androgynous non-human. Their preference for height is around 5'7". They are very slight, their skin is thin on their bones as to maximise the appearance of their body modifications.

9. What’s their biggest fear?

They'd say mud and burial, but that’s mostly representative of being seconds away from wassail again. Frenzies they weren't expecting, or committing path sins will similarly drag this fear up. It's a fear of loss of control over their life, themself. Notice you barely see him angry?

10. Are they a dog or a cat person? Answered ic. ooc answer :

They have a bit more experience with dogs, so that’s their preference. Their own energy is a bit kitten-ish, especially in warform.

11. Describe them in 5 words.

Enthusiastic, curious, analytical, detached, reckless.

12. If your character was handed a puppy, how would they react?

"For me??????"

You didn't hope to get that back, did you? It's getting fleshcrafted now.

13. How would they react to suddenly being hugged? Answered ic. ooc answer:

Depends whose doing it. They recently found out they are quite cuddly, but only with their favourite people. If passing acquaintances or even not so close friends tried it, their reaction would range from awkward stiffness to yanking you off of them with a firm grip around the spine. Don’t touch a fleshcrafter without permission.

14. What’s their biggest secret?

They don't like discussing the specifics of their time as a fledgling, so a lot of that maybe. They won't tell people where their dirt comes from and they won't discuss what they did to their family. Similarly he worries about certain people catching on that most of the people they kidnap for 'materials' are regular innocents who just went for a walk in the woods, with no kind of moral justification. Or all of their motivations being primarily suicidal in nature?

15. What are their pet peeves?

Out of clan people making comments on vicissitude or trying to define it. Being asked questions that edge into the 'You should not teach' sin, because they don't like conflict and saying no. Similarly, random arguments. Dick measuring contests between vampires who think they're cool. And uhhhh. Clingy people. Unfortunately.

16. What’s their opinion on pineapple on pizza?

How long has it been since they've been able to eat? They still haven't tried pizza at all. No opinion.

17. On average, how much sleep do they get at a time?

The full vampire 12 hours. Less in the winter.

18. If they were a superhero, what powers would they have? (if they have powers, what are they and under what conditions do they work?)

Fleshcrafting isn't a very superhero-esque power, but that's what he's working with! We all know how VTM powers work here, folks.

19. Does your character collect anything?

TEETH. VCRs, toxic plants, frogs, notepads. Bodies? Does that count?

20. What would your character’s favourite band(s) be?

Mostly 80s goth bands. Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Sisters of Mercy, Fields of the Nephilim, UK Decay, that kind of thing. They got into a few NU metal bands during the 2000s, and nowadays they sometimes listen to whatever the youtube algorithm shows them, usually random indie bands. The Doom soundtrack.

21. How many languages do they speak, and what are they?

Their first language was Welsh. They also speak English, and can read old ass Romanian, which doesn't come up much.

22. When your character is sad, what do they do to cheer themselves up? Answered ic. ooc answer:

Just ignore it. Or at least try to. They’ll go about their day like regular, except moping, and pretending they’re not. If it’s really bad, they’ll try to sleep it off, or indulge in some particularly gorey work. Recently they’ve discovered the cure all solution of Taking-A-GD-Bath.

23. Does your character snore?

No. Vampire death-sleep.

24. Describe their voice.

Sandy? Slightly nasal. Young-ish, heavily accented. Imagine an excited, 17 year old lad from the welsh countryside, who hasn't spoken all day till now so it's a little soft, or like he just woke up.

25. How long would they last in a zombie apocalypse?

Wait, there was an apocalypse? They wouldn't realise for a good while. They're good at surviving, keeping to themself. It would all fall to pieces if they were pushed out of their domain though, panicky animal mode would be Engaged.

#ask #ooc #anonymous #long post #suicide tw #((This is very long no one is going to read it lkjhgflkhjg #rwp

3 notes · View notes

dishonoredrpg · 4 years

Photo

Congratulations, ALLI! You’ve been accepted for the role of SEVEN OF SWORDS with the faceclaim of CILLIAN MURPHY. Canis is certainly a fucking concept, whom I adore to no end. He’s got a tenacious and willful sort of attitude about him, the kind of incredulous charm and wit that lends itself to an air of villainy and danger, and I think that he fits into the Seven of Swords like one fits into a well-made boot or glove. In spite of remaining leashed like a dog, he’s got no small amount of fire in him, and I’m eager to see what (or who!) he sinks his teeth into during gameplay. You’ve brought me a real gift, dropped it on my doorstep, and I am grateful.

Please review the CHECKLIST and send your blog in within 24 hours.

— APPLICATION

OOC

NAME: alli PRONOUNS: she / her AGE: twenty - one TIMEZONE, ACTIVITY LEVEL: cst / i am currently on summer break and have the ability to be really active , but sometimes things do come up ! i definitely have plenty of time to be on the dash with several posts within activity limit and when my muse is high ( i’ll be honest i’m a hoe for high fantasy ) my activity is also super up ! ANYTHING ELSE?: what’s the mead sis…….. the wenches are squabbling …….

IN CHARACTER

SKELETON: seven of swords NAME: efferus aubenet / “canis” & “the dog” efferus - of latin meaning , “wild , savage , cruel , barbarous” . a name canis has long since abandoned , preferring even the subtle jab of “the dog” given to him by opponents of his crew and the highborn that look down on him . he finds it just about as cutting as a bread knife . no one except those closest to him ( ie . the pack ) even know this name exists . canis - latin for “ dog ” , though also the scientific genus for all canines , including wolves and coyotes . meant to symbolize canis as the leader of his pack of wild dogs , and a sign of respect , a nickname earned on the streets and not given to him in tyrholm . the dog - a nickname received while working under king septimus , by those that see the second fangs as dirty , unruly , savages . also by revolters who see canis as a dog blindly following the orders of a tyrannical king. in any case , he still prefers this to efferus . sometimes he even barks in response . FACECLAIM: cillian murphy , michiel huisman ( he / him pronouns , cis male ) AGE: thirty - nine , born on the twenty - seventh day of the twelfth month

DETAILS: i always find myself drawn to underdog characters , muses that have overcome more than most others could even imagine to find themselves in their present position . i believe there is so much depth to backgrounds like canis’s . no family so he created his own , nothing to his name so he created his own legacy . a moral compass that tries it’s best to always point north . that fails , because the muse is so painfully human . the irony of a sellsword who wants more for himself ? incredible . when i was skimming the skeletons , it was his that startled practically writing itself , this street urchin turned warrior figure , so i spent a lot of time picking apart the biography until i was left with canis . i did a bit of research on the seventh of swords tarot card , but let me tell you .. i was so pleasantly surprised and intrigued when i did . on one hand , when upright , seven of swords means scheming , resourcefulness , cunning , and lies , all traits that have gotten canis to where he is today , however negative , the legacy he’s forged for himself and all deeply tied to his work . however , when reversed , the seven of swords can mean confession , conscience , regret , and maliciousness , which i think lend beautifully to this character’s private struggles . there is a very heavy mix of negative and positive attributes leant towards seven of sword’s core character , someone who wants to do right by themselves at great cost . when interpreting the tarot as canis , i was drawn to the maliciousness and the regret ( in sometimes equal measure ) of the reversed card . i believe there is so much more to this character than just his web of scheming and lies , that canis’s true self comes from somewhere within , and i’m really excited to explore his inner conflicts. this man has so many issues that he’s buried and i think the possibility of him becoming a part of the revolution? impeccable. my muse for this skeleton ? through the roof .

BACKGROUND

I . O’ ROMULUS AND REMUS , CASTOR AND POLLUX , WHAT IS ONE WITHOUT THE OTHER ? a twin , you were told , though it feels like something you should never be permitted to forget. you’ve never felt him there , not like a phantom limb or a guiding whisper. just a story , when you’re feeling ungrateful for your lot in this realm , that there is only one where there once was two. born in the dead of winter -- the one that bit at the napes of even the most fur cloaked nobility of markholm , that anyone unlucky enough to live through it can still recall as “ceaseless” -- and childbirth takes your mother as it goes. two children , born sickly , cold. so you are dubbed efferus , a savage beast who can claw his way into life , barely holding onto breath , already having taken a life. it takes a village to raise motherless boys. sometimes it takes more than that. your brother doesn’t make it past the winter , but you keep growing , getting stronger by the day , and finally spring flowers bloom forth from hard soil. the goat farmer next door tells your father you are a resilient one , that the undying smiled upon him. another miracle , that your life could be a blessing and not a curse. as long as you knew him , your father kept steadfast in deep religion , devout , praying over the crops. the cattle. the harvest. even your birth , a story he recants so mystically it’s hard to imagine you were there. “we all bled fer you ,” he always starts , like it’s your fault , “my son , my son. let all else be damned fer ‘im.” two lives for the price of one , he reminds you , and you’re just a boy , but you still find it all absurd. there’s never been a rhyme or reason to suffering. “you make a deal with the undying and you get what you paid fer.” sometimes it seems a compliment. others .. you aren’t so sure. your father hath no mercy for the weak or spineless , though he wasn’t an inherently evil man either , at least not in the figments you can conjure of him. you plow the fields , with hands so rough with calluses you can’t feel the hilt of the axe you use to cut the firewood. you milk the cows , so gentle with great beasts you start to forget your name. you’re skin and bone and beating heart , not much to look at , but just the blessing your father asked for all the same. a good boy , in that you were capable and healthy and strong. a bad seed , in that you cared for little and didn’t always do as you were told. it’s your tenth winter when frostbitten tendrils take first your farm , and then your father. you make a deal with the undying and you get what you paid for , you remember , and it almost makes you laugh. perhaps it’s not so funny that you mourn very little the life you lost. perhaps still it is a testament to your strength , a boy of only ten who shoulders already a lifetime of death and decay. who makes it look a load easy to bear. who are you , efferus aubenet? and who will you become?

II . A MIRRORED MIDAS , IF EVERYTHING HE HAD TOUCHED TURNED TO DEATH AND ROT . a street urchin with no farm , no family , and most prominently no coin. winters slip away like sand through an hourglass , and it’s all you can do to keep track of the time that folds beneath you. one year , and you’re frail and quiet and know only to keep to yourself. three years and you’ve developed a taste for fighting , scrappy as you are. it’s just a game , in the beginning , one the other coinless children keep telling you you’re too good at , “it’s no fun fighting a hungry dog.” five years and you’re taller , more meat to your bones. you’re better at sneaking things out of the market , extra to feed your friends. you learned the hard way what happens if you don’t bring back enough , if you turn a blind eye to people who call out your name. you hear it when you dream , half awake in chilled darkness. “i’m so hungry, efferus. i’m so hungry.” you start going by canis. it makes it easier to sleep. six , seven years and you’re so good at fighting that your pockets start to feel heavy. cobbled streets whisper canis when you cross. bruised fists and a bloody conscience , not all soldiers make it out of battle alive. it dawns on you , slowly but with all the force of a crack of lightning , why the others like to call you dog. maybe it’s because you were born from death , or because you know loss so well it colors your eyelids when you blink , but it seems all you’re good for. you discover a rage within you , one which you’re sure ( you hope , foolish as it is ) any man is capable of , if pushed too far. but it’s directionless , vile in the way it sits inside your chambered heart. there is nothing more universal than pain. nothing more isolating than anger. a boy with a taste for blood. so blind to the way you snap , like branch under boot , when you push too hard. what place is there for you in an unforgiving world , wracked with hardship? at whose table do you dine? you knew love once , it felt like sharing bread and blankets and tales of woe. like years on the streets relying only on wit and steadfast determination to survive. like knowing a person fully , inside and out , as you’d always known yourself. that too would be taken from you , like everything else. for the price of just a single coin , you watched your love take their last breath , watched the thief make off with their blood money , felt truly and terribly powerless. worse than losing your father to deep winter chill you lost your first love to a blade. and in the end , it meant nothing. the sons of argos could not undo what you’d done , what had been done to you , but maybe you could give back tenfold. it starts small , at a table in your favorite tavern , as all great plots tended to do. an invitation to join a company you’d heard about only in whispers. you saw espace , penance where others saw a home , but that would always be enough for you. it was intended to be permanent , a family you couldn’t lose , under a friend who would lay down their life for the men , women , and children under their protection. a life of adventure to call your own and you didn’t need to suffer anymore. you had but one skill , it seemed , beyond tending to the herd and trimming too tall crops , and your father once taught you that skill fed fortune ( though the money , you’d find , would come later ) . you don’t think the sons is quite what your dearly departed had in mind , and this makes your smile widen. you’ve always found humor in odd places. what follows is a career far short of extravagant , fighting crime like a bunch of vigilanties , tied to a city state that knows little of its own streets. you hunger for travel , to sink your teeth into shores unseen , land untended. to make a real name for yourself and anyone who followed suit. “mind your place , mutt,” you hear more than once , and you want to swat the others away like flies buzzing in swelling ears. but there’s something sharp , too , like a cut that just won’t heal. your voice is too loud amongst the rest , your name -- the name you paid for in blood -- nothing next to strength’s. the captain you were meant to worship turned to dust in your heavy fist , the family you forged alongside them never yours to call your own. you tell yourself they betrayed you , like everything else in this life they gave you nothing to hold onto save for the back of their coattails , but in truth you were never meant to stay. minding your place felt a lot like digging six feet down to lay rest. it’s like waking from a dream , one you push down when it returns to you in the night , leaving the sons for good. four winters you slept under their tents , ate at their table , and still you feel nothing when you pack what’s yours ( and maybe some of what isn’t , but who would dare come looking for it? ) and go. no one follows , no one even pleads your case , and when you see them playing knights on the docks the fire in you swells. it’s all rot now.

III . WHERE WOULD ICARUS BE NOW , IF SOMEONE WISE HAD CLIPPED CURSED WINGS? iriebury is the stank of unwashed flesh , the heat of southern sun , something to conquer. the citizens are mean and the crime meaner. it makes tyrholm look a lot like playing pretend , the sons seem like a group of toy soldiers. to survive in iriebury you need your bark , you need your bite. naturally , you thrive. it takes just one winter , one warm southern winter , before you have something to call a crew of your very own. the second fangs , a handful of beaten down , nearly finished off mutts that think you look like a future. you’ll find one day , when you’ve turned to face the wrong end of a sword , these dogs’ loyalty knows no bounds. and maybe you do have a family after all. they don’t look like warriors born for battle , but they’re sharp on every edge and speak of you like you hung the moon. like a prophecy spun from the undying herself. the queen of iriebury’s no different , when you flash her a smile and run a sword through her guard. this is your destiny. with work and full bellies , the second fangs grow , picking up more men and women the rest of markholm cast aside , giving them all purpose. leadership becomes you , you’re kind in places other captains breathe fire. your men adore you , and maybe this is why it’s easy to lose yourself a bit. you’ve always been looking for him , that voice inside of you that has guided every confident step , and you really start to believe you’ve found him at the end of a blade. what you do isn’t pretty like life in a castle , it isn’t gentle like the farm or humble like a temple , but it suits you. you find company at the bottom of a bottle , family inside the taverns and brothels , atop dirty cobblestone. it all feels a lot like honor , like duty. you’re known for your loyalty and cunning among burdened skill. work lends to virtue or some mirrored image of the sort. the second fangs take the jobs you approve , not the ones the queen hands you , nails stained with blood , and who knew a mercenary crew with such an eye for morality? bastards that comb the streets but speak with love fresh on their lips. you’re a heathen with heart , of that not even the fiercest opponents can dispute. maybe there is a place in this world for nameless , coinless men with a hunger for something more. you give back to your beloved pack what they give to you ; everything , everything and then some. a life that means more than scraping the bottom of the barrel. you can’t carry on like this forever and survive , and it’s only a matter of time before real gold starts knocking. a steady job , you’re promised. a lifetime of stability , peace. you know more of the king of tyrholm than you let on , and maybe you are naive to trust the word of a woman who did not raise herself , but when you look at your company’s worn faces and tired smiles , weathered from southern strife , it’s never been easier to bend a knee. some odd winters , some odd springs , lived with modest lavesty. septimus is an arse of a man that whispers corroded bidding into your graceless ear. no one but the second fangs knows how much you shake , when the job is done and you’re safe at home. how much weight you shoulder , for yourself , for your men , for the lives you’ve taken. the lives you will take. your crew was never meant to become a rebellion. the glory feels lost , you’re a knight without chivalry , a wolf without teeth. you hear dog more than your own name and you bite back bile when you look in a mirror , but still , you think , you would do it all over again. the second fangs are a happy crew , well fed and housed and nothing like the orphans you sheltered so many moons ago. when it starts to feel like you have your own sons of argos you shelf the thought. your pack looks at you , strong and fit and still just a bit withered , and laugh and cheer. “yer getting old, canis,” they jest , when you stumble into bed. “hunch - backed from all that gold in yer pockets.” you’ve always been wiser than most of them , something raw in your heart that keeps it beating steadfast. better you than them , you know. most men would crack at what you’d seen. what you know. there’s good to be found , once you learn how to look , like the devotion of judgement , a beauty in worship that reminds you of all your father’s useless praying. peaceful in all it’s absurdity. there’s friendship in odd places , with the empress you serve. you find it hard to trust in tyrholm , unaccustomed to the politics of a ruling class , the society that never once smiled down on a farm boy and his widowed father. you want to be wise and cunning , still sometimes you feel inadequate next to those raised in education , but the queen saw your potential before anyone else in the whole retched kingdom , and that has to mean something. there’s the fool , a real dog you sometimes think , who mirrors your old captain so much it makes your skin crawl. they aren’t so bad , but it’s hard for you to look up at someone who serves at the hand of the king. you wonder if others think the same of you. fools , the whole lot of them. you know what the queen expects of you , your word is your livelihood , but these things take time. for now , you’re comfortable ; your cup is full. there’s always been something about wars to come that feels like home , ragged and battle scarred thing that you are. and besides , it’s easier to put out a fire that burns inside your ribs than one that swallows an entire kingdom , of this you are certain.

PLOT IDEAS

STRENGTH: oh boy oh man. canis can’t hold his tongue with distaste even if he tried , and he definitely doesn’t try with them. his anger often gets the better of him and i believe he would try to confront strength every chance he gets. he sees this skeleton as nothing more than the king’s right hand ( literally so exciting to me that strength is also a revolter and i’m sure neither of them know they’re destined to work on the same side again?? ) and i think he reflects a lot of his own inadequacies onto this skeleton , a lot of his failure. with such a tension relationship i’d like to see fights break out .. maybe even between their own respective men that they’d have to quell. far down the line even settling their differences and working together as the military leaders of a revolution because who is better suited for the job than them? but it would take a big blow to canis’s pride to share such a job , to ever work alongside this skeleton instead of against them like he always has. so all around? here for it all. NINE OF WANDS: canis looks at them and sees passion he once was sure he felt , the sharp thing in his gut that once spurred him to forge his own path in a world that never once showed him kindness. his scars are internal , but they wear their scar like a badge of honor , at least that’s how canis sees it. he’d love to not have to kill the king himself , even if he would never admit it. it means a safer life for his men , it means being done with tyrholm and a life of ease and travel , everything he’s always wanted and never seemed to be able to grasp. i wonder if them growing closer through sparring and their ability to provide him the best weapons he’s ever seen could change his opinion on wanting them to kill the king in a fit of rage?? i could see canis wanted to strategize with them , in the end , once he’s done poking the bear. love this gift of a connection a lot !!!! THE EMPRESS: definite ass kissing going on here. canis is more than grateful he was hired by her and not the king , though i do think he might resent them a little for the work the king makes his company do. he prefers to take jobs from them , when ordered , though i feel their relationship at this point goes beyond just work like it does with septimus. he trusts them and it does help him to sleep at night thinking he could be serving their hand and not septimus’s. also entirely possibly they call him the dog but with them it doesn’t feel like malice. he would never dare disrespect the queen , especially one he sees goodness in , sees his entire future in. would be really interesting if canis even is a little too friendly with them , giving them a hard time where maybe no one else would dare to do , an annoying prick in her side that she NEEDS to get what she wants. THE HERMIT: i think he has a lot of respect for the hermit. in ways that his pride keeps him from seeing his similarities with strength , he sees so much of who he once was in them. young , making their own way , maybe even some of the same rage , though canis has no place to put his own. i feel like if the respect was mutual they could have a friendly relationship , canis even pushing advice onto them they might not want or need. if a revolution came he would back them. somewhere , he probably even sees them as something of a good king. canis doesn’t trust them fully , but he could drink with them , knows the second fangs would treat them kindly as well. THE HIGH PRIESTESS: canis is scared of little , but he’s scared shitless of them. he avoids them at all costs , looks the other way when they’re brought to the same space. he doesn’t talk kindly of necromancers , though maybe there is some envy there he needs to address. he’s sure this doesn’t go unnoticed , not with all their years of wisdom. i think it could be really interesting though if one of his closest friends is killed on a job and they bring them back as he watches , sees this power first hand , feels even a debt is owed though none of the fear is gone. a lot of possibilities , i could see the second fangs might be dying a lot more often pretty soon ... JUSTICE: the world calls canis the dog because they see him as filth , as something mangey that feeds from table scraps of the king , but canis sees that justice is the real dog. and he pities him for it. there’s little glory in the work of a bodyguard , and maybe canis wonders how justice would fair in his own company. never the less , i think they could butt heads just as easily as they could share a pint. maybe they’ve even fought in some of the same battles , know each other from war torn lives and have a bond because of this. lots of potential for both malice and comradery , no matter what line of the revolution they tread. THE LOVERS: canis sees himself and more in them. he doesn’t pity easily , has an ability to find the strength in even the smallest mouse , but he pities the lovers. in some ways , i think he wants what they have , longs for something as fulfilling as love , and doesn’t want to see this squashed. every day he gets closer to telling them of the war to come. i really wonder how long he can go without letting anything slip , especially if they look at him with gentleness or show him great kindness. he feels they need to prepare , like he is , for a future of destruction. THE MOON: okay okay .. i have two different paths that i think might be interesting with this skeleton depending on what gets plotted out. BUT .. i could imagine canis stumbles into their office after being badly injured on the job , probably requesting some random herb because it HURTS and he’s WEAK and he needs it to be DONE WITH. one path would lead to the moon healing canis , and once he discovers this ability he probably begs and bribes ( heavily. the man is too wealthy for his own good now , and what else is he going to buy? new boots? his work just fine. ) them to start visiting the second fangs around the city to heal them in secret. he’ll do anything for their ensured safety. the other path works quite the same , only with no healing , just plants , and he’d be very dependent on this muse either way because of the miracles they’re able to work with his men. really really excited for the possibilities of plots with this skeleton. THE TOWER: a backstory plot for these muses is calling my name?? like maybe the tower and canis had a deal where the second fangs would assist them and their men on voyages and pillages for a cut of the treasure when all was said and done , back when the second fangs were fresher and poorer and in desperate need of work. and maybe one of the two betrayed the other on one of these trips , with greed for treasure or something of the like? things could be tense between them now , at each other’s throats. OR there could have never been a betrayal and they’re actually quite good friends who know a little too much about each other’s pasts , and canis offers the tower company amongst the pack knowing he’s lived through canis’s own worst nightmare. the terrifying ordeal of being known. canis could definitely trust them more than he should. this one has me really excited i won’t lie.

CHARACTER DEATH: canis would quite literally volunteer for this so that’s a big yes from me.

WRITING SAMPLE

THE SELF PARA: the tent is warm and the burn of the lamplight casts shadows across familiar faces. the second fangs. his pack, he always calls them, like they’re puppies and not vicious mercenaries. canis is most comfortable here, at ease, his usually pin straight posture relaxed despite the job he knows lays ahead of them. it’s not one he’s entirely comfortable with, an uprising in a poor village. always messy, always felt a bit like putting down a weakened calf at the farm. so they drink, to forget the day that lies ahead, the uncountable days behind. the faces. faces. faces, that echo like screams. he can’t recall who speaks first, but it was likely canis himself, always a little too bold when his body buzzed with liquid courage. “that’s not what i’m asking,” one of his men corrects with a nudge of canis’s shoulder, always aggressive with each other, a pack of wolves nipping at each other’s heels. “the death’s on your hands. but it’s meant to be a good one. worth while.” and the captain’s own eyes twinkle uncharacteristically, perhaps because his inner conscious knows what his mouth does not. that the answer lies waiting at the tip of his tongue, a snarling beast of a target. “and how much coin are we gonna get fer it?” ajax jests, but canis can see the gold flashing in front of his face, even from across the table. canis barks out a laugh, and they all bang their goblets on the table. “aye,” in unison. they know each other inside and out, they speak a language strange and foreign. a family with many moons in their pockets. how many knights can say that? “no coin,” canis finally adds. “no glory. no private dance at the brothel,” eying ren, and there’s another chorus of easy laughter, more aye’s. “one of the nobles,” lawren grunts, and at first there’s just ringing silence. a paranoia that winds it’s way through the small group. they trust each other with their lives but this .. it’s like blasphemy. it’s revolution uncurling within them, more than just a job, it’s a force awakening. lawren speaks again, gentler, louder. “undying knows they’re all pricks.” and it’s easy again, more aye’s, cups overflowing with wine and ale. but in between the laughter, he feels the wrench in his gut, the rage that threatens to flare. an allegiance of blood and blind faith -- it reminds him so much of religion that he squirms. maybe his answer lies in a job, with wicked tendrils wrapped around his neck like a leash. the dog. how wrong would it be to bite the hand that feeds you? “i’d cut off my ring fingers and swear to celibacy to be rid of the fuck all king already,” canis growls, his knuckles white where he grips tight on his cup. and it’s quiet again. when he speaks they listen, they all listen, even the highborn in the castle, like he’s a wave crashing on shore. commanding attention. demanding it. “you’re spending too much time with the clerics,” ren groans, with a face like a fox, her hair hanging limply in her face. he can’t tell if she’s smiling or frowning, but they’re nodding in agreement. all of them. “what good’s that sack of shit king, anyway?” lawren chimes in, and then it’s deafening chatter. all canis can do is listen, absorb the pain of his men, the frustration, see himself reflected in their woes. say what any outsider will about his crew, maybe they are all mutts. one mind, one body, one restless spirit. tired of being used, of being chained to a cause that tries to fill deep chasms in bleeding hearts with gold. what is the price of true freedom? “maybe the end is closer than you think, canis,” a small voice that rises above the others. a girl, mary, raised in the pack, only nearing her seventeenth summer. and she’s a legacy of everything canis has created, the family he wove with bruised and boney fingers. “we haven’t lost a battle, yet.” and she’s right, of course she’s right, whip smart and flea bitten. if there is to be a revolution, aid of the pack would be an immense advantage. it isn’t arrogance with which his men speak. it’s truth. he has to chew on the suggestion, sharp glass in his mouth with every bite, impossible to digest, but maybe with the backing of his crew .. canis has trouble seeing the future beyond a sack of coins and a full bottle of ale. he knows little of politics, even after all his withered years serving as something of a king himself. it’s overwhelming, and he thinks his whole arm shakes when he raises his goblet. “nasty fuckers,” but his teeth shine in the lamplight, like fangs. like canines. “trying to get your own captain killed.” but when they clink glasses, it feels like a deal has been made, like he owes this death to more than just the queen, like the undying herself is watching.

EXTRAS

VOICE : canis has an eclectic sort of accent , a combination of all of the people he met while living on the street , his father , the lands he’s traveled and settled into with his companies . he constantly sticks out as an outsider , no matter where he is . he doesn’t mind this sense of otherness because whenever canis goes , his family is never far . canis’s mockblog can be found HERE his pinterest can be found HERE ( blood tw )

#accepted #accepted: seven of swords

6 notes · View notes

gayregis · 4 years

Text

im at that stage of fatigue from the day where i’m so tired the fanfiction is writing itself in my mind theough dialogue but i’m too insanely tired to sit down and write it all out and i work a shift in the morning too so i dont even have time ... so ill forget everything come morning

[[MORE]]

psych, ima try to outline it rn

this is after a little sacrifice and also after season of storms and takes place in cidaris (im not clear on if kerack is the capital so season of storms dealt with the proper king of cidaris or if it was just a local kingship but im hcing that cidaris is also a capital city as well as the region/nation).

this is geralt and dandelion going to the grape festival mentioned in a little sacrifice btw

main goal for this is to basically give dandelion more depth and address his identity issues and backstory and just how his character is in general

valdo marx (as far as i am headcanoning in terms of appearance right now) is of course , also a twink and they have similar builds but valdo isnt as skinny as dandelion because he has access to three full meals every day. he has dark brown hair and green eyes, and i might give him the same hair and beard as dandelion from tw3 just to spite cdpr. he used to sport green/purple doublets as an independent artist, but now as the reaident troubadour of cidaris, he’s adopted their emblatic colors (blue and white) and wears a doublet with a sash of these colors. he doesn’t have poofy sleeves, instead he has these ruffs and like... bellbottom sleeves. also this method of embellishing clothes that i learned from a glamour video (it’s @ 4:30ish) called slashing is applicable to his outfits. i think he veers away from tights unlike dandelion, so he wears more breeches than anything. he doesn’t have detailed embroidery like dandelion, but rather patterned/quilted areas with silver and some small pearls added for decoration in these sections as well.

so geralt and valdo have to be placed together somehow in a conversation. basically he wants to #expose dandelion for being a fraud... but he’s not doing it out of Pure Evil, he’s (vaguely) kind of like the lodge of sorceresses in which it’s like, he is only wanting things to be done his way because really he thinks it’s the best way to do things. he’s really a victim of academia, he would be someone that supports the fact that instruments are like $1,000 each.

basically he and dandelion were classmates at oxenfurt and at first hit it off very well and shared notes and thoughts and sexual partners and all was splendid. but they got competitive and valdo HATES that dandelion does NOT come from a family known for music or any kind of art. basically dandelion is a novus homo, but in the world of music, and valdo comes from an established family which has been musically inclined for generations. he feels that ppl like dandelion just wanna go to oxenfurt for shits and giggles and dont take this opportunity seriously because theyre too blinded by their own arrogance to actually learn anything. and he may be right in regards to a lot of other children of wealthy noble families that attend oxenfurt. but dandelion’s case was different and this he does not like to admit. also he hates how dandelion is... inclined to... a life of debauchery... because he feels he perpetuates stereotypes of artists being good for nothing penniless drunkards and lechers, and makes it harder for Real Professionals from Actual Lineage to get a job. also he has a disdain for how dandelion really wanted to travel and admired the “musicians of the world” that never attended some fancy college, and again valdo sees this as him not appreciating the opportunity he was given, because all you ever need to interact with is this little 1 mile by 1 mile square of oxenfurt, and not even the whole city, just the college. also when valdo tells all this to geralt he goes give him a judgemental up and down look like... “julian loves meeting, writing about, and... ahem... fraternizing with... all kinds of ... people.” (he was gonna say “trash,” but geralt has swords and cats eyes, so valdo swallowed that last word). ALSO ALSO valdo thinks dandelion is further destroying the sanctity of academic places like oxenfurt by training good for nothings from other nobody families, like essi daven, who was actually from a noble family but one not too rich because it was kind of distant from the ruling family. and since she threw a fit they let her do her own thing instead of marrying her off.

also valdo is like “julian— ahem, ... ‘dandelion,’ as you know him... i don’t know why he uses that absurd little nickname,” because he just finds the idea of a pseudonym stupid (since hes from a famous musical family of course he wants to highlight his lineage). and again he dislikes how dandelion is Corrupting Others by not only mentoring essi at oxenfurt, but training her in an “unorthodox fashion,” ie they just duet and talk shit about random stuff and he advises her weird things like “get a cool fake name so all the girls have something to scream as you go on stage”

as they interact with each other, valdo and dandelion actually are kind of opposite of dandelion and essi. they dont throw ANY snide remarks and keep it all under wraps with just pleased smiles and then as soon as theyre out of earshot (a long way for bards) theyre like “i am going to take the replacement strings of my lute and choke the lights out of that tone-deaf idiot” ... geralt is like 😳 to see aggression in dandelion and hes a bit intimidated at first but then is like Bro Are you Fucking Okay ????? Because its so unnatural for dandelion to be Actually Upset about something and not be ok within half a day

scene where dandelion is staring at the mirror and geralt is like you have been staring at the mirror for a long time, even by your standards... dandelion is like “i have to change something... geralt, look at me. look at me. (says it again bc geralt didnt look up the first time). if you could change one thing about my face, what would it be?” and geralts obviously like “nothing.” and dandelions like dont be fucking difficult just tell me i need to know i need your opinion and geralt is like that IS my opinion i sincerely like your face the way it is. something something blah blah blah tenderness geralt says smth like dandelion you have a lot of loyal fans okay...... and hes trying to refer to himself but he doesnt wanna say it aloud

i think something about dandelion talking about who he was (basically referring to “julian” in the 3rd person) and just very uncharacteristically self-loathing but them he pops back into his little arrogant self ... basically he covers that everyone Fucking Laughed at him for wanting to sing but he did it and now he’s the best and also, sexy. in this whole scene (same scene as last bullet point) he is also saying that he needs to “prove himself” and geralt is just like What More Can You Do, You Are Literally Famous... but dandelion is just pensive about it

also he says something like “theres two versions of me... julian with a dream who nobody knows, and dandelion who’s famous and loved.” and geralts like “theres three.” “three?” “there’s also dandelion, the one i know, who, it doesn’t matter if he’s famous or what, because i just like him and enjoy his company.” BECAUSE i dont know how not to be blunt and not hit my readers over the head with what i wanted to get across. geralt is a blunt man however so i think its acceptable to do this

basically this fic is “dandelion can have little a OOCness for character development”

tbh its not too ooc (hopefully) bc hes not like downright depressed, hes just pensive, like he is when hes trying to think of a good title or rhymes and nothing is working. nothing is working! hes frustrated!!!

i have nooooo idea how to resolve this conflict ive introduced. i think valdo and dandelion have to sing a duet together and it is like skating on thin ice with sharks underneath . MAYBE valdo gets possessed by,, something? not a demon bc IVE HAD ENOUGH GOETIA AFTER SEASON OF STORMS but you know An Entity, and dandelion is like wow this is an improvement!! and geralts like no it isnt, now i have to exorcise this fucker

also throughout this i think that the king and queen of cidaris (maintaining that kerack isnt the capital and is just another kingship within the nation) looooveveeveveeee dandelion and his presence and are like oh dandelion you are always welcome in our court :) which also totally pisses valdo off because its like dandelion came into his work/home and fucked both of his bosses and is trying to steal their loyalty through Sexual Appeal. which. may ring true. but dandelion does stuff for fun and not for manipulation soooo valdo is a little wrong in thinking dandelion is manipulating them. and this also adds to valdos resentment of dandelion for being so promiscuous and also writing about his love affairs bc he feels it detracts from The Art...

basically this fic is also me telling academia and ppl who feel art should be limited to a certain crowd to go stuff it cause no one cares and creativity and learning is only human of anyone. also an excuse to give dandelion character depth and also an excuse to break how geralt is always the gloomy one and dandelion has to cheer him up, i think though they do have their strong personalities, relationships should ideally go both ways in terms of emotional support so it shows geralt has the capacity to support a dandelion with festering anger and personal identity problems. also a way for geralt to learn a little abt dandelions backstory without learning/spoiling the fact that hes a v*scount and actually noble and wealthy (they just refer to his family as being wealthy enough to pay for oxenfurt which is significant but not astounding)

#thoughts #dandelion #gerlion

17 notes · View notes

thedungeonofbaddecisions · 6 years

Conversation

Another beholder, this one blind, wanders into the library of the one we killed while we're exploring, humming a nursery rhyme

Beholder, in a creaky old lady voice: Who's there?

Aaeye: We mean you no harm.

Harry: Easy there.

Beholder: Who's there? Are you friends of my son?

Me, OOC: It's his- You're making us deal with the beholder's mother??

Beholder: Are you Argy's friends?

Harry: You know- yes, yeah, he had a couple of books about a couple of my friends here, so we wanted to see what he knew about us.

Beholder: Well, where is he? He's late for dinner.

Harry: I don't know; he stepped out for a little bit.

Beholder: He went out? Why would he do that? He never leaves his basement.

*whole party bursts out laughing*

Me, OOC: He lives in his mother's basement?

Harry: Well, you see, the thing is, he wanted to see if he could find a nice, uh, female, to bring home to you.

Beholder: What? Is his mother not good enough for him?

Harry: No, no no no, he wanted to make you proud!

DM: Roll a Deception check.

Matt: *rolls* Nope! That's a ten.

Beholder: My son has no interest in such things! All he does is sit and read his books!

Harry: Well, uh, yeah, I mean, I talked to him a little bit-

Beholder: You sound... untruthful. That will certainly not do!

Me: Wait, hang on, I want to say-

Aaeye: The important thing is that there's no need for further hostilities.

Me: Dammit.

Beholder: I beg your pardon?

Don:I can't do words.

Me: *OOC* Shh! I can help with this. *in-character* He didn't actually step out for a female, he stepped out for a book, my friend here misunderstood, he stepped out for a book ON females, I don't know exactly why-

DM: Deception?

Me: I didn't put ranks into Deception, but I've got a +5 anyways. *rolls* 17!

DM: Okay. She just kind looks at you oddly, but you notice that her eyes are kind of swiveling, trying to find focus on you, but it does look like she has cataracts, so she's probably blind. She's looking around the chamber, trying to pinpoint your voices.

Beholder: My son would never leave to find a book. He would simply command an organism to do it for him.

Me: Well, he seemed very determined to get this book on his own; I can't tell you why.

Aaeye: He was certainly determined about something, you know, I can tell you that.

Me, whispering: Stop talking. You're not helping. *to Harry* Also, you stop talking; you're not helping either.

DM: At this point, Raiya and Kanithar, you two are coming down the corridor. You notice that the passage in front of you, about sixty feet ahead, is blocked by this beholder, who seems to be scolding the people inside.

Me: And is clearly some sort of blind maternal figure.

Harry: I'm sorry, I did not catch your name, madam.

Beholder: Oh! I'm Mama Silax.

Me, Harry, and Aaeye: Mama Silax.

Me: Pleasure to meet you.

Mama Silax: Do you know where my son is?

Me: I'm sorry, we don't know. He wouldn't tell us where he was going. He just said he was going out to find the book.

DM: At this point, you watch as one large eye in the center of her face opens up, and this one, while the others are milky and kind of blinded, this one can see perfectly.

Me: Ohhhh, shit.

DM: As she gazes about the room, looking at all of you, and you hear an inhuman screech rock the chamber as her gaze falls upon the destroyed and crumpled remains of her son.

Me: Oh, fuck, we didn't get rid of the body!

DM: You can see tears forming, milky tears.

*whole party laughs*

Me: Should we roll initiative?

Don: I have a power called Emissary of Peace! *in character* There was a misunderstanding, a conflict that we tried to avoid but couldn't, our friend perished, your son perished, it was unfortunate. Let us not repeat this nastiness. *rolls* I got a 22!

DM: You see the milky tears form and drip to the ground. Where they fall, you see the carpet steam, like acid.

Me: Oh, great acid tears. Nothing is quite as frightening as a mama beholder's tears.

DM: She floats a little forward into the room, and where she heard your voice coming from, she just kinda plops down and leans up against you.

Me: Oh, amazing.

Aaeye: *awkwardly pats Mama Silax on the back*

Mama Silax: What happened? Please tell me of my son.

Harry, whispering: Blame the dead guy (we lost an NPC party member in the fight).

DM: Luckily, her hearing's not too good either.

Harry: Well, ahem, we heard tales of your son, and came up here to speak to him-

Mama Silax: I don't like you! I asked him *gestures to Aaeye*. You're a liar!

Me:We're so sorry, we just wanted to spare your feelings.

Aaeye: Anyways, we came up here to negotiate, and unfortunately, our leader and your son did not come to an understanding, and violence erupted, and unfortunately, neither your son nor our leader and dear friend survived.

Mama Silax: Dear heavens, why'd you have to take my son?

*Kanithar and Raiya enter and see Mama Silax trying to curl into a ball against Aaeye, weeping acid tears*

Kanithar, imperiously: Is it begging for mercy?

Aaeye: I am consoling her over the deaths that we have all suffered from!

Harry: It's a mother weeping for her kid!

Raiya, baffled: What?

Harry: It's a mother, weeping for her kid!

Kanithar: This must be some sort of deception. Abominations do not weep for their children.

Me, OOC: Oh, no, you don't say that to her face, do you?

Evan: I say that very loudly.

Me: Oh, no. Kanithar, no, Kanithar, no, you're going to get us all killed.

Kanithar, ignoring me: What are we doing with the creature?

Aaeye: We're having a moment of understanding for all of us, that we are all somebody's child.

Me: My parents are dead.

Harry: So are mine.

Me: I never met them.

Evan: Knowledge check to see what I know about beholders, and to see if this is unusual?

*Aaeye continues lecturing on unity in the background while Kanithar and Raiya put their heads together to see what they know about beholders and I make desperate "shut the fuck up" gestures at Kanithar, who continues ignoring me*

DM: This seems like normal behavior.

Me: What, crying beholders?

DM: Yeah, he's just like, "is this normal for beholders? Do they have parents?"

Me, to Evan: What, did you roll a one?

Evan:No, I got a total of 12, it just wasn't enough.

Me, belatedly realizing I should probably roll my own check: 24 Arcana? Are beholders a born creature or made?

DM: Yeah, they're born. They have parents.

Me: Oh, huh. So this is legit. This is awkward.

Kanithar:If this is indeed true, then destroy the beast so she does not spawn any further abominations.

Kirby: Jesus!

Harry: Whoa, whoa, whoa!

Me: Kanithar! She's done nobody harm!

Kanithar:She does not belong here. She is a crime against nature!

Aaeye: She's part of nature.

Me: Kanithar, she's not going to spawn any more. She's clearly a widow, she's clearly-

*party starts laughing*

Kirby: Clearly a single mother-

Matt: Past menopause or kids-

Me: Look, I'm gonna try to be respectful about it, but she's clearly past her child-bearing years. She's mostly blind, she's mostly deaf, her son was the only thing she had; she'll be fine, just leave her alone, she'll die naturally. Or, unnaturally, as the case may be, but on her own. She'll die of old age.

(Long story short, we found out Mama Silax and her son were brought to this plane against their will. We brought back her son and sent them both back to their home plane as a compromise between Kanithar's desire to murder abominations and the rest of the party's desire not to slaughter a defenseless grieving mother. This conversation lasted a total of about twenty minutes, and it took me half an hour to transcribe ten minutes, so this is what you get.)

#d&d #dnd #5e #this is not the dungeon of good decisions #meme game

503 notes · View notes

kyanve · 6 years

Text

Tocosar Delvaren, Plan-Ruining Lawful Good Assassin Extraordinaire

So the previous story of Toc probably gave a pretty good idea how much of a creep my old stalker was trying to be, even if it completely failed. He also was not very bright at following things that didn’t fit normal patterns, like grasping how a Lawful Good character functioned. And that led to the second time Tocosar Delvaren foiled his best laid plans. These plans, thankfully, were less fetish-fuel, and more just him trying to go for melodramatic angst. Toc didn't foil them by being Too Queer And Ace For His Bullshit this time, but by being too Lawful Good. It probably would’ve worked, too, if he’d thought more about the party composition and who he wanted to target.

So as mentioned before, Toc was an assassin build rogue. Toc was also Lawful Good. Toc’s background, before the party found them, was that Toc had worked for an organization that tried to protect the citizens of a city by dealing with threats with as little collateral damage as possible, which usually meant "Quick, fast, and the target doesn't see it coming". (I'm going to give old anime geeks a minute to get any Weiss Kreuz jokes out of their system.) Now, obviously, this is a position that could easily be abused, so there was a code and set of rules about valid targets; Toc had to either have enough evidence to be DAMN SURE the person was a threat to the general public, weak, and defenseless, or the target had to be in the act of threatening lives/etc., which did include a self-defense clause. Toc took their code incredibly seriously. Toc had ended up adventuring after getting sold out in political maneuvering by someone in power who was corrupt and didn't want to risk the city’s watchdogs coming after them, so this person framed Toc for some pretty serious crimes and got him shipped out, where he got grabbed by a powerful sorcerer intending to use him for experiments or something; the party bargained the sorcerer into handing Toc over, shortly before Toc ran into the magic trap mentioned in the first story. Toc was still incredibly committed to their ideals and code on sheer spite, reasoning that what'd happened just proved there was a need for people like him working to protect those who couldn't defend themselves, even if they were a little bit bitter and prone to sarcasm and being a little more cautious and suspicious of people's motives. It was generally known among the other players and rest of the party members in-character that Toc was actually the absolute hardest person in the party to provoke into violence and the safest one to be around. So the party comes into a town that’s having a string of brutal, horrifying, bloody murders that don't really follow rhyme or reason, committed by equally random townsfolk that just seemed to “go crazy” one day. (Look, if you think this guy was at all respectful of actual mental illness issues and how cringey that is, I’d like to redirect you to the first story and why Toc ended up turned into a fox to begin with.) With the main thrust of the party being good-aligned, naturally they hear about it and volunteer to help solve these horrifying killings and find out why they're happening. Not long after this starts, the DM starts passing notes. I found out later that everyone else got notes saying that nothing was going on and to disregard the note but not speak of it, while Toc was getting notes that various people around them seemed suspicious, and oh maybe that person was up to No Good, and this party member had been Acting Out lately. These notes got worse and worse in the Weird Suspicions category, with a list of “This person was around for this, maybe THEY'RE the mastermind” sort of things and encouragement toward violence. Every time, Toc would run down the mental list of what would be valid for someone to be a target, find a lack of anything that would work, and conclude that they needed to continue gathering evidence until they were sure they had their mark. The DM got increasingly frustrated as this plot progressed and turned into basically a very calm fantasy police procedural, with a weird lack of new killings while we were on the trail. Agreeing to not talk about the notes OOC did not mean there was any ban on IC conversation. After a particularly egregious case of Weird Murderous Intrusive Nonsense Thoughts, Toc turned to the (Chaotic Good) party cleric, and explained the entire litany of shit that'd been going on since they'd arrived, and that Toc suspected that it might be what'd happened to the people who turned murderer suddenly and “for no apparent reason”. The cleric did their own investigation with various detection spells, and the DM looked increasingly sour as yes, there was signs of outside influence because Brayden (the cleric) had VERY GOOD STATS for these checks and rolled very well with his spells. So we tracked the dark magics trying to manipulate Toc back to their source, finding signs of a small group worshiping an evil deity of slaughter and violence. Toc, knowing the evil priest had already gotten inroads to influence them, opted to wait in a secure location with one of the local guard while the party went in, in case the priest responsible tried to compromise them further. While waiting, as relayed by the GM, the Guard got antsy about being stuck with a Possible Murderer and attacked Toc; Toc struck back, and killed him, then realized after it'd been a very detailed illusion. The only way the priest of slaughter had been able to get Toc to compromise their code was a full sensory hijack illusion. The party managed to bring down the cult and get further proof of the manipulation, exhonerating the captured “killers” that were all alarmed, guilt-ridden, and confused as to why it'd seemed like a good idea; everyone in the party earned a decent reward, including Toc, who had been instrumental in identifying the problem. I spent a minute looking things up and checking, and announced that Toc’s share of the reward was going towards the local temple for a True Resurrection for the guard they’d been manipulating into killing. The DM stared at me. “Are you sure?” “Lawful. Good. Toc was manipulated into it, but that still makes Toc partly responsible, and Toc is going to set things right as fully as they can.” The townsfolk and the newly back from the dead guard expressed appreciation for the party’s efforts, and we moved on. Later, after game, the DM was sulking; he’d put a lot of work into planning that plot as a bloody psychological horror with the party getting set against each other. The entire rest of the party stared at him and tallied off their character’s alignments and occasional propensities for violence. Brayden was Chaotic Good and kind of reactive and didn't always think things through. Our mage was a Chaotic Good fire specialist prone to solving problems by burning things. We had a Chaotic Neutral aligned fighter who was often drunk and mostly just acted on impulse following the party because they got good loot and were a good gig. I just reminded him that Toc was Lawful Good with a strict code. After this tally, there was an almost in unison “AND YOU PICKED THE LAWFUL GOOD ONE WITH A CODE STRICTER THAN SOME PALADINS AND DIDN'T SEE THIS COMING?!” tangent from the other players. The DM sulked, and gave up on it, with occasional moments of mourning how “dramatic” it would have been if we'd cooperated; the rest of the party rolled their eyes. The campaign didn’t last very long after that, mostly due to the semester breaking for summer which meant we scattered to different places, and after that the whole “stalker” thing I'd mentioned came to a head which kind of killed involvement. If I sound casual about it, it’s been over ten years now away from him with some work at dealing with various rattles and trauma bits, so there’s a decent amount I can talk about fairly easily, and.... well, the D&D stories that he was involved in are often ridiculously dumb, whether he was DM’ing or a fellow player. Yes, I did have standards where there was never really any kind of relationship except in his head. Yes, he was often dumber than a box of rocks despite all of his pretentions of being “brilliant”. The group was wonderful and I’m still very attached to Toc, whose Gender was Honor and whose sexuality was Justice.

#d&d #tales from tabletop #tocosar delvaren #Too Lawful Good For That DM

0 notes

solarwindandcosmicash · 7 years

Text

interlude iv: belle of the ball

absent: Kate’s player, Vekar’s player

prev | start | next

The party returns to the Apricity after a short shore leave. Shenanigans ensue, but the break doesn’t last long; Fawkes has been hard at work and has found something that the party needs to see.

summary

After the barcrawl, the party spent the other twenty-four hours of their shore leave doing their own thing before returning to the Apricity. Vasir poked around the Citadel a bit:

“They didn’t do much, like me when I have a day off,” their player says with a laugh.

Phos nursed a hangover and then took Kilo out to chill at the lake. She also tried to learn more about Leti Avonius; she managed to figure out that Leti is head of C-Sec in the Zakera ward.

I process this for a bit before saying, “So you’re saying that Phos is - stalking, basically - “

“Just a little bit,” Phos’s player says. “Just to make sure she won’t fuck up as royally as she did last time.”

“Oh, god.”

Beetle was hungover and spent most of the day with Holosmea and Sihhum, wherein she whined endlessly. After she had recovered, though, she said her goodbyes and left the apartment.

“She probably notices Phos trying to learn more about Leti, so she just follows her around with her tactical cloak on,” Beetle’s player says.

“She just follows me and Kilo around?” Phos’s player asks, incredulous.

“Yeah,” Beetle’s player says, laughing. “She’s just like, ‘hm, interesting.’“

Once the party reconvenes on the Apricity, they are immediately greeted by Aster requesting that they retrieve a star chart that Isolde had hidden somewhere on the ship. Phos elects to stay on the first deck with Aster and Isolde as Vasir and Beetle go down to second deck, where Beetle is called into Annos’s office to receive a Roomba. She immediately places a plastic knife on it (but doesn’t otherwise secure it, having no access to tape of any kind) before continuing down to Engineering.

Phos, after trying one last time to convince Isolde to tell her where the charts are, goes instead to look around crew’s quarters, though she doesn’t find anything. Vasir checks out first the medbay and then the galley, where they find the star charts after a suggestion from Kara to check in the cupboards. They bring it back to Aster soon after.

Beetle tries to eavesdrop on a conversation Fausius is having on his omni-tool using her Tactical Cloak, but fails to do so. Instead, he finishes up his conversation and she shoulder-checks him on her way out.

Once the party has completed the tasks set out for them, Annos calls them into his office, where he and Fawkes are waiting.

notable lines + interactions

Phos, OOC: But yeah, I think all of us are ready? DM: Mmkay. Beetle, OOC: Are we ready? DM: Ready freddy? Beetle, OOC: We are not. Phos, OOC: My body is not. It wants to sleep. But my mind is stronger.

Phos, OOC: The ultimate power move: deny your body what it needs. Vasir, OOC: Wow. DM: So die. Beetle, OOC: Power move. Vasir, OOC: Wow.

Beetle: Hey, guys, I had the best vacation: I got trashed! DM: Aster just gives you a thumbs-up. Beetle, OOC: Beetle dabs.

Phos: What the hell do you need a star chart for? DM: Isolde shrugs. Beetle: That’s nerd shit.

Vasir, OOC: [posts this]

Aster: Oh, god, you didn’t put it on the Citadel, did you? Isolde: What? No, no, god, no, I wouldn’t do that, you actually need it, right? Aster: I do need it! Please give it back. Isolde: No. Beetle: Is it in space? Isolde: No, it’s - Beetle: Please, god, tell me it’s in space. Isolde: It’s on the ship.

DM: Roll for it. Phos, OOC: Oh, dear.

Phos, OOC: And it’s not very impressive. DM: Yeah. Isolde’s like - Isolde: Mm, let me consider that. Hm. Uh, I’ve considered it. No.

Beetle, OOC: Beetle’s not gonna fuck around talking about this. [rolls] Oh, mama. Vasir, please. Vasir, OOC and laughing: [rolls an 18] Beetle, OOC: Thank you, Vasir.

DM: You find some scraps of paper and you get really excited for a bit, but they aren’t star charts. Beetle: Fuck, free paper! DM: Do you take the paper? Beetle, OOC: Absolutely.

Phos, OOC: I think I’m just gonna chill up here, because it’s kind of both Aster and Isolde’s fault for losing it, like, Aster could’ve kept a better eye on it, and Isolde is just being a little shit - DM: You misunderstand. Aster was looking at it and Isolde just straight up took it and hid it. Beetle, OOC: You think we’re good at finding things?

Beetle, OOC: Could you maybe give us a list of the decks? I’m bad at thinking.

DM: Oh, god, someone’s looking through the door. [distressed hum] Beetle, OOC: Beat them! DM: It’s fine, everything’s fine. Phos, OOC: Snooped. DM, quietly: It’s fine. Beetle, OOC: Hello? Anybody there? DM, hushed: God, okay, that’s another person. I bet I, like, took their room by accident? This is fine.

Tris: Hey, you. Annos wants to see you. Beetle: Which one? Tris, after a pause: Assman wants to see you in his office. Beetle: Us? Tris: Just do it. Beetle: Assman? Us? [pause] Assman? [longer pause] Okay. Let me get into a vent real quick. DM: Oh my god. Vasir: Beetle! Tris: The door is right there, holy shit.

Annos: Where’s Beetle? Vasir: She’s crawling through a vent right now because she doesn’t like doors. DM: He doesn’t look surprised by this.

Annos: Put the cover back on the vent and then take the door out, okay? Beetle: I’ll do it.

in discord Vasir: "take the door out" Phos: on a date? Vasir: so...annos wants........beetle to.......take the doors off his office Vasir: okay. Phos: with candles? Phos: and nice food? Vasir: keels over on my desk and puts my face in a pillow and tries not to screamlaugh

Annos: Good. I need you to do it. Beetle: Is this a favor you’re calling in? Annos: No, this is an order as your commander. Beetle: That’s your first mistake, Assman. Annos: [sighs] Beetle: Well, I’m out. With my child. Annos: Excellent.

Beetle, OOC: She, like, puts [the Roomba] down and opens the door and says, “Be free!” DM: Did you turn it on? Beetle, decisively and OOC: No. DM: The Roomba doesn’t move. Beetle, aghast: It’s dead. DM: Kara glances over, and then she and Tris exchange glances, and then she just goes back to work.

DM, to Beetle: So you’re like, “It’s dead!” and you put your hands on it, like, “No, my child!” and, like, the button is there, but as you’re moving your hands over it, you just keep skimming over it, so this Roomba stays off. Beetle: Give me a shroud so I can bury this like it deserves. DM: Annos closes his office door Beetle, OOC: Yeah, Beetle’s just outside his office, kneeling on the ground and screaming, “It’s dead!” DM: Advika is there, and she glances over to see you prostrating in front of this machine. Advika: Have you turned it on? Beetle: What the fuck do you mean? DM: She comes over to you. Advika: Have you turned it on? Beetle: Why would I turn on my own child. That’s disgusting. Advika: Let me just - DM: - and she leans over and presses the button - Advika: Okay! Uh, I’ll just - I’ll - yeah. Okay. Gonna back away now. Slowly. Beetle: You better.

DM: It makes a soft whirring sound, as if greeting you. Beetle, yelling: IT’S ALIVE.

Beetle, OOC: Beetle takes out some lint and sprinkles it in front of the Roomba. DM: ... Okay. Are you feeding it - Beetle: Eat, my child.

Advika: Actually, while you’re here, could you maybe go find Fausius? He’s been missing for a while and I don’t know where he went. Party: [dead silence for 6 seconds] Advika: Okay, I see - okay, I’ll just - alright, sorry, I guess I’ll just do it on my own. Bye! Beetle: Are you sure that Isolde didn’t stuff him in a locker? Advika: Yes, because she’s tried, and he doesn’t fit. Vasir, OOC and quietly aghast: My god. Beetle: You know what? That’s true. Okay. Advika: Yeah, so. Beetle: Well, you know what? I can do two things, I can multi-task. I can look for some star charts, I can look for another person, it’s cool. This is good. Advika: Glad - to hear it? Good - luck? Beetle: Won’t need it.

Chen: Hey, Beetle! What are you doing here? I heard you have a Roomba? Please tell me you didn’t bring it here. Beetle: I have the Roomba! - I left it upstairs. Chen, instantly: Oh, thank god. Beetle: It’s alive. Chen: What are you doing here? Beetle: I’m looking for some papers and a person. Chen: Well, you found some people. What kind of paper are you looking for? Beetle: Um, some nerd shit? Like, uh, stars - charts? Starts, if you will. Chen: Well, if you’re looking for nerd shit, you are in Engineering, so that does fit the bill. But start charts? Uh. I have no idea why they’d be down here.

Vasir: Did either of you see Isolde do something suspicious around here? Tris: You’ll have to be way more specific.

Vasir: Aster, I found a star chart in the kitchen. Was there only the one, or were there more? Aster: I hope to god there are not. DM: And there’s a slight pause. Aster: Okay, Isolde said she just took one, so we’re good.

Phos, OOC: Vasir solved your star chart puzzle, Isolde. DM, extremely pained: This isn’t the Adventure Zone.

Vasir, OOC: Roll a dex saving throw to avoid being run over by a turian. DM, laughing: I don’t know if that would be necessary.

Beetle, OOC and laughing: Beetle shoulder-checks him. DM: Okay. As you do this, you manage to startle him, so he, like, yelps or something, and then he says - Fausius: Okay, who the fuck was that - DM: - and starts swinging his arms around in front of him, trying to find you. Beetle, OOC and in hysterics: Beetle leaves. DM: Fausius sees the door to the hangar open, and he yells - Fausius: Fuck you! Vasir, OOC: Oh my god. I feel so bad for Fausius. Beetle, OOC, still laughing a little: Yeah. I’m really sorry. All of this is in-character for Beetle, but I feel really bad.

Vasir, OOC: What do you see, cotton-eyed joe? DM: I was going to say ‘with your special salarian eyes,’ but that works too. Vasir, OOC: It rhymes with ‘where did you go.’ Beetle, OOC: What do you see with your special salarian eyes... my brand!

DM: The only room none of you have been in yet is maintenance. Vasir, OOC: I mean, Advika is a maintenance person, so, you know. [pause] Beetle, OOC: Okay. Wow. Damn. - I’ll go there.

Advika: Oh, hey! Did you find Fausius? Beetle: Yes. Advika: Did you tell him to come up? I need his help with something right now. [pause] Beetle: Oh! You wanted that? Advika: I thought that would be implied by ‘find Fausius,’ but yes! I did want that. Beetle: I’m gonna, uh, I’m gonna... Fausius is on his way right now, probably. Just finishing up a call - Advika: A call? Beetle: - let me, uh, make sure he didn’t get lost.

Kara: Okay, I’ll just - let me just - I’ll get back to this later, Tris. DM: And she gets up and walks down the stairs to third deck. Vasir, OOC: Time to scram. DM: Yep.

DM: Beetle, do you want to do anything before things happen? Beetle, OOC: Um... let me think. Vasir, OOC: “Who do I menace now?” Beetle thinks.

Beetle, OOC: Beetle pokes her head through Annos’s door. Beetle: Yo. Stabby McWarhammer? [pause] Good choice. DM: Are you - are you asking, or - Beetle: Good call. DM: Okay, got it. Annos: I’m glad you think so. Beetle: I’m congratulating you on making a good call with Stabby McWarhammer. Annos: Thank you. I think. Beetle, OOC: And then she just like, leaves. DM: The door’s only open a little bit, just enough to poke her head in - Beetle, OOC: Yeah, yeah, just to make him angry. And she doesn’t close it behind her.

Annos: Actually, Beetle, get back in here. Things are happening. Beetle: Oh, damn, things? Annos: And get your friends, too. Beetle: Who? Annos: Get your fellow freelance coworkers. Beetle, OOC: Beetle pings all of them on their omni-tools. Phos, OOC: Am I going to be able to read it? [short pause] Nope! DM, laughing: Tragic.

DM: You have like perfect timing, dude. Vekar, OOC: Awesome. Who do I get to freeze?

Beetle, OOC: Jetpack. Vasir, OOC: Meanwhile, I have two shield upgrades, and I’m the only one. Still. DM: Vasir is now your tank. Embrace it. Vasir, OOC: God. Beetle, OOC: Beetle is your tank now. Vekar, OOC: No, Beetle is our jet. Beetle, OOC: Beetle just jets up like an avenging god. Does a triple-flip snipe. Vasir, OOC(?): Uh-huh. I’ll believe it when I see it. Beetle, OOC: You know what? Fair.

DM: Holy shit, I can listen to music. Vasir, OOC: I linked some stuff further up. DM: No. I’m gonna listen to my music, thank you. Vasir, OOC: But this is so good. DM: No. Vasir, OOC: Yes. Vekar, OOC, muttering: It’s probably elevatorstuck. DM: No. Vasir, OOC: Yes. DM: No. Vasir, OOC: Yes. DM: No. Vasir, OOC: Yes. DM: No. Vasir, OOC: Yes. DM: No. Vasir, OOC: Yes. Beetle, OOC: No. DM: No. Vasir, OOC: Yes. Beetle, OOC: Weh. DM: Yes. Vasir, OOC: Yes. Beetle, OOC: [unintelligible noise] DM: No. Vasir, OOC: Yes. Beetle, OOC: Hm. DM: Yes. Vasir, OOC: Yes. Beetle, OOC: No. DM: No. Vasir, OOC: Yes. Beetle, OOC: Yes. DM: Maybe. Vasir, OOC: Yes. Beetle, OOC: No. DM: Je ne sais quoi. Vasir, OOC: Yes. Beetle, OOC: Maybe. DM: Quoi? Vasir, OOC: Yes. Beetle, OOC: No. Phos, OOC: No. Beetle, OOC: Maybe. DM: Français? Beetle, OOC: Possibly? DM: Cowèurde. Beetle, OOC: Hmm? Phos, OOC: [starts speaking Danish]

DM: What if I just translated the Bee Movie script into French? Beetle, OOC: Yes. Vasir, OOC: Why would you do that? DM: Do you remember when I did that? Vasir, OOC: No, I remember you doing parts of it, but why would you do that again?

Vekar, OOC: [buys 4 shield upgrades] Party: [various oohs and ahhs] Beetle, OOC: Just a fun fact about me, I completely missed the shield upgrades. DM: You got a jump jet, though. Beetle, OOC: I diiiiid. A way to ruin things.

Vekar, OOC: [essentially gains 39 hit points in one go] Phos, OOC: I’m just gonna stay behind and talk to people instead. DM: Wow, so no different, basically. Phos, OOC and laughing: Basically. Except before, I stayed in the front. Now, I’ll stay behind the tall-ass turian.

DM: You got a shield upgrade? Beetle, OOC: No. DM: Oh. [quieter] Oh. Vasir, OOC: She sounds so disappointed. DM, laughing: It’s no skin off my back, let’s just put it that way.

Phos: But, um. Yeah, Tris, I need to know - I guess I wouldn’t, like, say to tell me your whole life story because that would be fucking weird, especially considering I have no business nosing around in that, but I need to know what - what are you planning to do with Kilo? Considering you’ve taken them under your wing, I need to know if you have any ideas about how to take care of them. Tris: I know how to take care of kids. Phos: ... And can I know the reason why you suddenly decided to pick up Kilo? Tris: No. Phos, echoing: No. Okay, but, Tris, I fished them out of there. I have a lot - I care a lot for the id, and I really need to know this to, like, let you keep them. Tris: What I do is not up to you. Phos: No, maybe not, but what’s happening to Kilo is my business. First priority. And I need to know if you’re reliable to take care of them. DM: You can tell that she’s kind of like - she doesn’t want to give it to you, but eventually she sighs. Tris: Okay, I guess I am being a little hypocritical. Fine. What do you want to know? Phos: What is your experience taking care of kids. Tris: [pause] Well, I was an orphan and I was adopted, and I was pretty close to other kids in the orphanage. Is that good enough for you? Phos: Mm. It’s really - Sienan said something similar and I noticed later on that she’d been abusive and I tried to fix it, and apparently it wasn’t fixed, and... [sighs] Do you - Tris: Anyone who hurts kids deserves to die. Phos: Yeah. Fair point. The only reason we kept Sienan because of information. Otherwise I would’ve taken her out, but. Would Kilo around on the Apricity, they’re gonna be dragged into danger. Do you what to do to keep them safe? If they’re pulled into something, are you ready to take responsibility for their life? Tris: Yes? DM: She’s tilting her head at you, like, obviously, why are you even questioning her on this. Phos: Yeah. Sorry. I haven’t experienced anyone else taking an interest in them, and I’ve tried my best taking care of Kilo, and it’s a bit difficult to my lifestyle and Phara and Abel have been taking care of them, but - if something happens, I’m just gonna make the kid hide. But I know if Kilo hides, they’re gonna get into the mess anyway, you saw that happen on Nepts. If somebody else had landed and had asked Kilo about the paper, they would’ve just given it to them. And that could’ve ended badly. Tris: So what’s your point? You’re exploring hypothetical timelines now? Phos: I’m saying, just in case, what would you do? Tris: Depends on the situation. Phos: If we’re attacked on the Apricity, or on the ground, and Kilo is - Tris: Those are two very different situations. Pick one. Phos: If we’re on the ground, like, we’ve landed for some reason or another, and the ship is being attacked, what are you gonna do? Tris: Protect them or die trying. Phos: Okay, valid. I respect them. Do you need to know anything about Kilo? Since it seems like you know your stuff. Tris: No. They’ve told me enough. Phos: Okay, good. I’m glad. Tris: Look, if you’re really curious. Why don’t you just ask them what they think? Phos: You’re right. Do you know where they would be? I looked around earlier but I didn’t find them. Tris: In my office. I just let them sleep there. I’ll give you the passcode, I guess. Phos: Thanks. See you around, I guess. Tris: Sure.

technical notes

Phos persuades Isolde to tell her where she hid the star chart. Persuasion roll. 1d20 + knowledge modifier + bonuses → 8 + 2 → 10 Phos fails to convince Isolde.

Vasir and Beetle check out the first deck to find the star chart. Perception roll. 1d20 + perception modifier.

Vasir → 18 + 0 → 18 Beetle → 12 + 1 → 13

Vasir determines that the star chart is not on the CIC.

Beetle crawls into a vent. Dexterity roll. 1d20 + dexterity modifier → 16 + 1 → 17 “Beetle looks pointedly at the door, back at Tris, and then just goes into a vent,” Beetle’s player says, daring me to argue. “You think I take doors like a fool?”

“I’m just gonna knock on the door like a regular person,” Vasir’s player says.

Beetle tries to turn Stabby McWarhammer on. Mechanical roll. 1d20 + mechanical modifier → 8 + 0 → 8 Beetle fails to locate the power button on Stabby.

Phos persuades Isolde to tell her where she hid the star chart, again. Persuasion roll with disadvantage. 1d20 + knowledge modifier + bonuses → 3 + 2 → 5 Phos fails to convince Isolde. (Again.)

Beetle and two of the Chens check out Engineering. Perception roll. 1d20 + perception modifier.

Beetle → 12 + 1 → 13 Ann → 8 + 0 → 8 Bea → 8 + 0 → 8

Beetle finds more loose scraps of paper. She pockets it.

“Oh, fuck,” her player says, “At the end of this, I’m gonna make the sickest papier-mâché project.”

“Make a piñata,” Phos’s player suggests.

“And what, fill it with dirt for the Roomba?” Vasir’s player says.

“Yeah,” Beetle’s player says.

Phos checks out Crew’s Quarters. Perception roll. 1d20 + perception modifier → 17 + 1 → 18 Phos does not manage to find the star charts.

Phos tiptoes around Crew’s Quarters. Dexterity saving throw. 1d20 + dexterity modifier → 12 + 2 → 14 She manages not to take anyone up.

Vasir and Suella check out the medbay. Perception roll. 1d20 + perception modifier.

Vasir → 7 + 0 → 7 Suella → 3 + 4 → 7

Vasir and Suella do not find the star chart, as Suella had predicted.

Vasir, Tris, and Kara check out the galley. Perception roll. 1d20 + perception modifier.

Kara → 16 + 4 → 20 Tris → 2 + 3 → 5 Vasir → 1 + 0 → 1

Vasir opens the cupboards and a bunch of plastic bottles hits them in head.

“It’s a rain of pain,” I tell their player. She doesn’t laugh.

Fausius notices Beetle. Perception modifier. 1d20 + perception modifier → 15 + 2 → 17 Fausius can’t see Beetle, but he knows something’s up.

Phos persuades Tris to tell her why she is so fiercely protective of Kilo. Persuasion roll. 1d20 + persuasion modifier + bonuses → 14 + 2 → 16 She does so.

Phos opens her omni-tool. Technical roll. 1d20 + technical modifier → 16 - 2 → 14 Phos tries to get access to the passcode Tris sends her.

Phos reads the message from Beetle on her omni-tool. Technical roll. 1d20 + technical modifier → 2 - 2 → 0 She absolutely does not do that.

The party levels up.

Beetle gains 1d20 → 20 HP and adds +1 to her... I actually have no recollection or record of what stat her player added to, so that’s a problem. Oh well, into the summary it goes.

Vasir gains 1d20 → 13 HP and adds +1 to their knowledge stat (9, +0 modifier).

Phos gains 1d20 → 17 HP and adds +1 to her strength stat (18, +4 modifier).

Vekar gains 1d20 → 19 HP and adds +1 to his... okay, make that two players where I have no recollection or record of what stat his player added to.

prev | start | next

#interlude #summary #session 10 #interlude iv #the dm

0 notes

mysteryfanfictheatre3000 · 7 years

Text

Back to the Frollo, Chapter 12

Warning: Frollo cries again.

Chapter Twelve

Several days passed before I ventured outside. I barricaded myself in the house, cried all the time, and could not stop thinking about Claude Frollo. I never quite got over that kiss -- that spontaneous, wildly passionate, oh-so wonderful kiss.

She’s sure freaked out by five minutes of a yelling and a short kiss. She seems very emotionally unstable.

Oh Claude! I didn't want things to get this crazy; I really loved you! But I didn't care if I ever laid eyes on Claude again.

Is she talking to modern-day Frollo? Is he reading this story? What?

I made arrangements with a young man who was organizing a trip to the East, a trade expedition in search of spices and fine fabrics. I was a little nervous about going to medieval Persia and Arabia, but I didn't care.

Dude. You’re going to die. You are going to get attacked by robbers at the very least, and probably pick up smallpox, plague, cholera or some other ancient disease along the way. The possibilities of the various horrors that will kill you are endless!

Besides, Fern was still in Texas and wouldn't be back for several weeks; I decided not to wait. I had to get out of Paris as soon as possible.

Just abandon everything about your previous life like that. Not an issue.

I knew good-byes were in order, and I didn't have the heart to tell the children I was leaving. I gathered them in the square those last few days and played games with them as if nothing was wrong. Looking into those little faces made me re-think my decision, but no, I wouldn't give Claude Frollo the satisfaction of thinking he'd "won". Saying good-bye to a certain bellringer, however, would be even more difficult.

No, don’t drag poor Quasimodo into this mess even more! He’s innocent, leave him alone!

******

"Oh Nisha, do you have to leave?", Quasi asked as we packed the now-finished Civil War battle set. "I'm sorry, Quasi, but let's just say your master and I don't exactly see eye-to-eye", I said, admiring the amazing accuracy of Quasi's work, even though the events depicted would not happen for almost 400 years. Although I never told him of my latest stormy encounter with Frollo, Quasimodo became strangely defensive of his guardian.

It’s called Stockholm Syndrome.

"Look, just because he said some things that rubbed you the wrong way....", he said with a sigh, "Frollo's not the easiest man to get along with, but I'm grateful to him...I mean...Don't leave because he got on your nerves." Quasi then gave me a big hug. "You've been a wonderful friend, brightening up my days. You don't know what it's like up here, all alone with no one to talk to."

Did Phoebus and Esmeralda just disappear? Danisha seems to indicate this took place after the movie and Frollo somehow survived, so either Esmeralda died like in the musical and Phoebus just ran off someplace and abandoned Quasi, or they both just left Paris and never came back. I guess it makes sense for them to run away if Frollo was in charge, but if so, why not take Quasimodo with them?

He then grinned broadly, saying, "Thanks for reading to me and telling me those wonderful stories. You know, I sometimes recite those poems to my gargoyle friends." He nodded to the three funny-looking stone figures nearby.

Yes, let’s add in the most irritating characters by far just to stretch out this awful story a little bit longer.

I mulled over his words, then told him, "Quasi, how can I leave such a good friend. I promised I'd stay the rest of the summer, and...well...I not the type to break promises." We hugged each other again, and, just before Quasi headed downstairs, he said, "Just say you'll stay." When I told him I'd stay for the rest of the summer, Quasimodo was elated. "Great! I KNEW you wouldn't go! I've got chores to do downstairs. When I'm finished, could we read some more of those poems?"

So she changed her just mind like that? Really?

"Sure, Quas, take your time. I'm not going anywhere", I replied with a smile. He was right, I just couldn't leave; Claude and I will just have to keep our distances. After Quasi left, I settled down with a delightful little volume of James Whitcomb Riley's poetry. I got lost in the words; Riley's Hoosier homespun rhymes, written in that wonderful Indiana dialect, made me so oblivious to my surroundings that I almost didn't feel the tap on my shoulder. Quasi finished his chores already? I turned around and looked dead into the eyes of Claude Frollo.

And so we get more terrible, sappy “romance” between two people I hate. Oh joy.

I immediately got up and headed for the steps, but he caught me by the arm, and tenderly said, "Please, Nisha. Don't leave, my dear. There is so much we need to say to each other." I was getting ready to slap him, but his manner was so unusually gentle this time, I sat down again and listened. Claude sat across from me, took my hands into his, and began what sounded like an apology. "I did not come here in search of a fight, but forgiveness. What happened those few days ago..." His voice began trembling with emotion. "I shouldn't have let things get so completely..."

Since when has he been gentle, understanding and respectful of women? He’s a horrible human being, and he doesn’t care about Danisha’s feelings or forgiveness! If any of this was even half true he’d be off commanding soldiers to murder some innocents because he can’t deal with a crush!

I finished his sentence, "So completely out of hand, Claude?...No, Claude. I was the guilty party. I said terrible things to you, not to mention causing all that mess in the first place...." The words came tumbling out of my mouth. Claude sweetly kissed my hands, his voice still quavering. "Don't put all the blame on yourself, darling." He then got up and knelt in front of me. What was to come out of Claude Frollo's mouth would change my life forever. Claude's graceful hand gently caressed my face as he gazed into my eyes. "My dear Danisha," he began, his voice breaking with emotion, "you know I've grown quite fond of you..."

So their relationship began with sexual assault, weird pet names and drama? i’m not sure why I expected anything different.

He stopped himself, rose to his feet and paced the room. His turned and covered his face as if he didn't want me to see the depth of his emotion. Then Claude wheeled around to face me. His eyes were hot with passion, tears streamed down his finely chisled cheekbones.

Why is he such a crybaby? He breaks down in tears over things that normal people don’t even bat an eyelash at. I think he’s crying in half his screentime here!

"Why don't I just come out and say it!", Claude bellowed in a voice choked with anguish, "For the past few days I have thought of nothing but you!" I felt as if shot a hundred times. I sat riveted to my chair, unable to move or speak. He continued, "Night and day, I longed to feel your silky honeyed skin, gaze into those enchanting brown eyes. Oh, to hear your voice, that gloriously musical voice, saying you love me." Claude then knelt before me again, caressed my hands, face, and hair, then finally confessed, "I love you, dear sweet Nisha, I love you." My eyes were still locked into his; I had to say something.

This is when you should call the police and/or get the hall out of here, because he’s quite obviously some sort of stalker weirdo.

"Claude...did you say...what I think you said...You love me?" "Darling, what more is there to say?", Claude gently replied, as he drew closer to me and tenderly, yet passionately, kissed my mouth. My arms enfolded him and I, without hesitation, responded to him with equal passion. It was a long, slow kiss that rivaled the sultriest and steamiest of Indiana summers; it was that intense. Afterwards, Claude said to me, "There, my love. Now...how can you leave Paris? I was so looking forward to spending the remainder of summer with you." "Ooh Claude", I cooed back, "I'm so glad I decided not to..." I suddenly stopped myself.

The fact that she even considered abandoning her entire life because she was mad at one dude should be enough to give her pause.

Hold on! Time out! HOW did he know I was leaving town? I told no one except Quasi, and even then I didn't reveal any details. Claude looked at me half-amusedly. "Quasimodo is not the..what is that phrase your friend uses...'tell-all'?...sort, my dearest. But you really should be more careful with whom you make travel arrangements." Claude Frollo, his mood now changed to full-tilt hilarity, continued laughingly, "My dear! The young "organizer" of that little expedition is one of my best spies!"

Fern? Was this entire thing a ruse to get Danisha and Frollo together? I don’t understand anything that’s going on here!

He was now on his back, rolling and convulsing with uproarious laughter. I was livid! The man who just poured out his heart and soul to me, with whom I shared the sweetest and hottest of kisses, was getting a kick out my naivete. "How'd I know that dude was a spy?", I spoke sistah-style. "It's not funny, Claude."

Oh, are they referring to the guy Nisha made arrangements to go to Asia with? This author really has to be more clear as to what she’s talking about. And she has to stop talking in “sistah-style.” It isn’t sexy, funny, cute or likable, just weird and vaguely racist sounding.

"Oh, yes it is, dear heart. And it's not just with WHOM you are travelling but to WHERE!" He sported a wide, evil grin as he continued his digs at me. "Honestly, darling, for the life of me...I can just visualize you in the wilds of Arabia." Claude words were punctuated with his deep, throaty laughter as he continued, "You, ending up in some sultan's harem, and the poor man putting up with your ever-changing moods and saucy tongue!" Still grinning, he sat in the chair across from me and looked at me in earnest.

This reminds me of Darth Vader from Splinter of the Mind’s Eye, calling Leia a “steel kitten,” in that it tried to sound villainous but just comes across as OOC and weird.

"I'm sorry, darling, but I needed the laugh after...If I offended you...I'm sorry, but...it's all so funny." He was still amused, and I was still smarting from the levity enjoyed at my expense. Out of some sense of false, wounded pride, I immediately got up and headed for the steps.

They are so incredibly on and off again, and I feel like they go from making out to hating each other in seconds. It’s just oddly paced and confusing.

Claude, his amusement now turned to serious concern, caught me from behind. "Don't tell me you're still leaving, after all that was confessed here tonight." I pulled away from him, gave him the look that I reserved only for men who did me wrong, and told him, "It appears YOU did all the talking, confessing your 'love'. And I really wanted to believe you." Claude looked at me in disbelief, but I kept on, "Then you have a laugh at my expense, poke fun of my...What did you mean my 'changing moods and saucy tongue'? Never mind, I'm out of here."

But… you did change your mood every five minutes, and you do sound saucy, intentionally nonetheless!

As I turned to descend the steps, Claude came after me, pleading, "Please, Danisha, don't leave me. I love you!" "What do you want from me, Claude?", I asked. Claude Frollo gave me that same little-boy look I beheld after our first encounter. "Just tell me you love me, and that you will stay." He reached out for me, but I stepped back.

“Or I’ll murder you with fire.”

"Claude, there're only two things that'll keep me here", I began, "and that's Quasi and the kids, but I think they can get along without me." "And what about ME?", Claude emotionally asked. I sneered back, "What about you? You say you love me, but what'll happen down the road? You'll just turn around and treat me like yesterday's garbage." Claude's eyes were bright with emotion.

That’s actually very true. They could never have a healthy relationship because he’s him and she’s her and they’re both too awful for that.

"I'd never do that, my dear. I'd never mistreat my sweet precious..."

Why is he suddenly Gollum? “My precious….”

He had his arms around me, and began kissing me again. Oooh, how I loved the way his lips caressed my face and neck. Mmmm...this feels so wonderful! I was really enjoying this, so much I wanted to melt with him, be his woman forever and ever... But something inside me snapped. I withdrew from his embrace, faced him with hellfire and fury. "No! I don't want this! I'm sorry, Claude, but I got to get out of here."

She’s in love with him, and then hates him, and then she loves him again- these constant heel-face turns are just weird and confusing to read. Stop doing that.

Claude again pleaded with me, "Why can't I make you understand? Don"t you want to be with me, to love me?" I edged my way to the steps. "Save your sob story for someone else, baby. I'm outta here! And for what it's worth, I may not end up in Arabia, but I'd rather slog through the Louisana swamps, take my chances with the 'gators and snakes, than be stuck in Paris with the likes of you!" And with that, I stormed down the steps.

She changed her mind again?!

He didn't even try to follow me. Good! I don't need him, don't want him, don't love... I was halfway down the steps and Claude still made no attempts to pursue me. I stopped, sat down on the step, and couldn't believe what I just did. I threw it away! A once-in-a-lifetime chance, a golden opportunity at happiness was handed to me, and I blew it!

And now she regrets it. Reading this chick’s internal monologue is so weird. I thinks he has some personality issues at the very least from what I’ve read thus far.

All at once, Claude's words of love finally seeped through thick layers of my stubborn pride. I actually loved him! I wanted him, needed him... Maybe it's not too late!

Because he’d want you back after that? He probably wants to burn you to death! Why are you manipulating and messing with the one person Fern specifically told you not to mess with?

Tears rolled down my face as I raced back up the steps. It's now or never, girlfriend, if he changes his mind, you'll know who to blame. I stopped in the doorway and saw Claude Frollo, the esteemed Minister of Justice, a man of power and control, huddled on the floor, sobbing softly. I tip-toed up to him and lightly stroked his now-disheveled gray hair. "Claude", I said sobbingly, "I'm...I'm sorry." Claude raised his eyes to me, and stretched out his hand.

And now they’re both crying again. I should start a counter for every time someone starts sobbing unnecessarily because of “feels.”

Without hesitation, I fell to my knees and embraced him. I felt his arms around me and heard him say to me over and over, "It's all right, my love. I understand, my sweet Nisha. You are forgiven, darling."

Darling, honey, love… these nicknames are forever ruined for me.

We kissed again and again, sweet, passionate kisses that would be exchanged countless times to come. "I love you, Claude Frollo, I love you. I didn't mean to hurt you", I tearfully confessed. There! I finally told Claude I loved him, something I should have done days before, but did not have the courage. We kissed again and held each other a long time.

Is this happening in the middle of Notre Dame? are they just crying and making out on the floor of the church in front of other people? I think that would raise some alarm in the parishioners.

At last, Claude stood up, and helped me to my feet. He neatened his hair and donned the famous triangular hat. He then embraced me again and tenderly kissed my a41 face as if to erase my tears. "Come along, my love, I'll take you home."

Her a41 face? What does that even mean?

****** Claude and I walked arm-in-arm down the long corridor of Notre Dame. Our eyes were locked on each other; we almost didn't notice Quasimodo, who was heading for the belltower steps. "Master...Mlle. Nisha...I thought...What's going on here?", he asked confusedly.

“Oh, we’re just making out and changing our opinions of each other every six seconds. Just because, y’know?”

Claude Frollo turned to his young charge. "I am seeing this young lady home, Quasimodo. I will visit you tomorrow. Good night, dear boy." "Good night, Quasi", I echoed. "Good night", replied Quasimodo as he scratched his head in puzzlement.

I feel you, Quasi. I’m equally as confused by this mess of a story.

Outside, Claude boosted me up into the saddle. I never rode such a fine horse! Claude settled himself behind me, and, with the reins in his right hand and his left arm around me, guided Snowball towards the little house Fern and I shared.

I thought Fern had that chateau she didn’t let you in because she was “doing business,” but then again, nothing else in this godforsaken thing does either.

I softly sang that old Etta James song, "At Last, my love has come along..." "What are you singing, sweet darling?", Claude chuckled in my ear. "Oh, just a love song that was popular when I was a child." I then grinned and said playfully, "I'se Min'ster Frollo's woman now."

STOP USING THAT VOICE. IT’S WEIRD, JUST WEIRD.

Claude chuckled again, his lips grazing the back of my neck, "You certainly are, my dear. You are finally mine, and I am yours." He softly sang a sweet French love song in as we neared my Parisian home. Claude saw me to my door. He kissed me good-night,saying, "Pleasant dreams, my love". I was a little disappointed. "Oh Claude, I'd thought you'd come inside for a few moments."

NO. DO NOT.

Claude just laughed and said, "Now, my dear, we both know we had a very emotional evening..." He flashed a broad smile. Oh, he has the sexiest smile! "All right, honey", I said, "I'll get some rest. Will I see you tomorow?" Claude kissed me again and playfully replied, "Oh, my dear Danisha, you'll see me in the morning, in the afternoon, in the evening, and the next day, and the next..." I joined in Claude's hearty laughter and kissed him again. "This is definitely turning into a summer to remember", I said.

Oh my god, I want to vomit. The cheesiness, the awfulness, I just can’t.

We finally said good-night and I watched him ride away. I was right; Claude was right. We finally found each other. But the summer was not over and the fireworks were just beginning.

Please let it end, please let it end-

#danisha #Claude frollo #back to the frollo #The Hunchback of Notre Dame

1 note · View note