#literally her found treasure that she wants to hide away in the basement
Note
I hate when people dismiss the Phoebe thing as Scully simply having been jealous. She was his best friend first, and she did what any good friend would have
yeah it's pretty reductive, honestly. scully has been very protective of mulder since the pilot; the first 3 episodes of the show are literally her committing to him, holding a man hostage at gunpoint to find him, and cutting ties with her friends who make fun of him.
this was largely her arc in squeeze, after only having known him for a couple of weeks, as she defends him to colton multiple times
and, in the end, concludes that she would rather be “on the side of the victim” with mulder than climb the ladder with her classmates, and tells colton to fuck off the next time he’s rude about her partner
in ghost in the machine, she's disapproving of jerry from the moment they meet, knowing literally nothing about him except that he used to work with mulder
and she instantly recognizes the profile that jerry presents as mulder's work, whispering to him to ask if that's his, to which he replies "forget it, no" and then later fibs and says that jerry apologized for stealing it (once you tell your best friend you can't go back lol)
all of these examples pre-date her behavior in fire, and are episodes where she's put in situations navigating mulder around other men
y'all remember the first time she met krycek and just flat out refused to shake his hand lmao
i touched on this a little bit in my post on fire, but scully really was just so enthralled by him from the very beginning. she grew up on a military base with her navy captain father and two brothers, and her only relationships have been with older men in power.
she instantly is so aligned with mulder and that there's something different in him than she's used to, but she's aware that the openness and softness that she's so drawn to in him makes him more vulnerable, and she's desperate to protect it
in beyond the sea, the very next episode after fire, she screams at boggs that if mulder dies she'll gas him into hell herself, and boggs tells her that he's tasted the afterlife.
that it's a cold and dark place, and mulder's looking in on it now. she replies, "it might be a cold dark place for you, but it's not for mulder"
she knows him, and she's so moved by him and what he wants to do in the world. these are the values that she left medicine to follow.
"jealousy" honestly doesn't even compare to the kind of ferocious protectiveness that she feels towards him from the very start, she really doesn't trust anyone around him for anything. they can't possibly get it like she does, if they treat him that way.
he may not care if people call him names or steal from him or try to make him walk through fire, but he really is just her best friend. and she can't stand it.
#she shares him with the world only reluctantly#literally her found treasure that she wants to hide away in the basement#she is sooo funny about it tho like she truly doesn't fucking play#she's 5 feet tall in heels but she'll fucking kill you#remember when she found out he was just talking to an entomologist and she literally got on an airplane and was there the next day#i literally only talked about season 1 in this post#she does this for 25 years#PLEASE do submit any and all inquiries to speak to him or breathe his air to miss dana scully!!#she really just does feel like no one else GETS it like she's the only one who understands this wonder that she's stumbled across#and also as far as how closed off she is towards his old partners or girlfriends even before meeting them it's just likeee#look at him#you can deduce that his last relationships have not gone well#of course she's super wary from the get go#the man is not the way he is because the people in his life have been kind#and she just reads him and how he's really feeling so lightning fast#she knows when something is getting to him or he's uncomfortable#even when he stays in the situation#anyway#she's soooo perfect#and so are y'all thank you for the ask!!#asks#scully#kae meta
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Song of a Mermaid Warrior pt 2
Part 2 to the mermaid story!
Decided to continue it, wanted to see where Jordan's story ends up.
You can read pt 1 here.
Enjoy!
___________________________
“Well, well, well! Never thought I’d see the mermaid herself swimming over to my fetid swamp here in the slums!”
A slim young man with bright purple hair grinned, flipping a silver coin into the air over and over without looking at it. “Thought you said you were never coming back? What, did your last book not sell as well now that you're peddling comforting little lies about your species?”
Jordan leaned against the doorframe of the dilapidated shop, wondering for the thousandth time if this was a bad idea. She knew the answer, deep down, but chose to ignore it. “Tock, cut the crap.”
“Oh sweetie, you haven’t changed. “ Tock laughed. “ I can cut the crap, but not sure what use it would be… crap is notoriously difficult to cut, tends to mush up, you know… and whose crap should be cut? Mine?” He shrugged. “ Sorry to say this body doesn’t make physical waste. What about yours?”
Jordan rubbed her forehead. “I should have known better than to do anything other than speak as literally as possible… I hate fairies.”
“You only know one fairy, darling.” Tock’s eyes blinked, the irises turning green, than orange, than staying at a robin’s egg blue. “Unfair of you to judge the whole species just because you don’t like me. Especially because I have been nothing but fair and helpful to you.”
“You tried to trick me into giving you my skin.”
“TRIED. Tried is the key word there. Plus you didn’t fall for it, so what’s the problem?”
Jordan sighed, knowing that there was never any point with arguing with Tock.
She had run into the fairy over two years ago. At that time she was frantic, trying to find Hunter’s location, and her desperation had led her to the darker corners of the city. She had spent every last coin she had, unable to eat or sleep, and at her darkest moment, she stumbled into Tock’s shop. Later Jordan had realized that it was likely that despair that had allowed her to find his place. There were magic wards to keep all but the most vulnerable out.
When they met, Tock had seen her madness, her obsession, and was ecstatic. He tried to get her to agree to many terrible deals in exchange for tracking down Hunter and after adding a small addendum she had agreed, feeling that whatever price she had to pay was worth it.
In the end, the addendum she had insisted on saved her skin, quite literally. She had added on a time limit that he had to track Hunter down and arrange a meeting. And to Tock’s shock and dismay, whatever elven magic was hiding Hunter’s identity; it was beyond the fairy’s ability to dismantle.
Tock had failed to find Hunter, and the contract expired. Jordan left, at the time feeling a strange mix of disappointment at the failure and gratitude to be still in one piece. As they parted ways, she swore never to come back to his broken place of deals with the devil.
Until today.
“So what brings you here, my lovely little fish?” Tock flipped his coin again, and it sizzled as it disappeared into thin air. “Still trying to find that stubborn elf boyfriend of yours?”
“He was just a friend, and no. I gave up on him years ago.”
Tock frowned, blinking as his eyes turned a bronze color. “Pity. Your skin has only gotten prettier since the last time I saw it… would love to find your price to part with it.”
“…” The memory of Hunter cheerfully making plans to run away with her still hung in her mind. What was it that he had said? “We might lose our clothes and money, but at least we’d have a fun story to tell”? We had no idea what real fairies were like. The ocean’s song in Jordan’s ears was rising, she kept her lips closed to hold back the seductive call of the magic. The fairy noticed her struggle, backing away slightly.
“Fine, fine, no more talk about your skin. Why are you mermaids so sensitive about losing organs?” He paused for a moment, thinking. “Mermaids regenerate, right? Or was that trolls?”
“Tock….” The name was forced out between clenched teeth.
The fairy rolled his eyes, changing them to a pure silver color. “So what deal DO you want to make today, my angry mermaid friend?”
She dug through her pocket handing over a silver badge with a handkerchief. Her touch shouldn’t affect his abilities, but Jordan still didn’t want to touch it. It represented something she had tried to move beyond in the last few years, a part of the past that caused her to wake up sobbing some nights, and to stay up drinking others.
Hunter had been her only friend, the only person in this world she thought she could trust. She had learned the hard way how foolish that trust had been. But once she had finally made peace with that fact, he had sent someone to intrude in her life once more. After forcing her to stay out of his battle, he was inviting her to join him, dangling the one thing he knew she couldn’t resist to get her to agree: the existence of other full blood mermaids.
She wasn’t going to play by his rules. If he was expecting her to run back to his side after forcing her away years ago, he would be sorely disappointed. And if she was going to use the clue he had given her, it was for her reasons and no one else’s. Because for everything he had gotten wrong, Hunter had gotten one thing very right:
She did want to find the mermaids in the city.
Not out of any sense of loyalty or need to find others like her, however. She was simply desperate. The instincts to fight and kill, to use her magic to trap and destroy, grew stronger by the day. Soon she was afraid she’d start killing innocent people. She needed to find a way to control it.
Jordan was hoping that other mermaids would know how.
Maybe other mermaids don’t have this problem. She thought at her darkest moments. Maybe I’m just a killer, a monster.
She tried not to think about that to often.
Tock gingerly picked up the badge, his eyes widening with surprise and turning a glowing violet.
“You always have the best things! Let’s see… silver… It was made several years ago… it had other forms years ago… but the owners of those items died quite violently…” He paused, glancing at her curiously. “Your handiwork, I would guess?”
“No comment.”
“Such an unfriendly fish… good thing you have such pretty skin, otherwise I wouldn’t pay you any attention.” He turned back towards the badge in his hand. “It was made with care and love… quite a pure emotion of care… along with a large amount of hope, all mixed in with the silver as it was reformed… it was part of a set?”
“Yes.” She swallowed uncomfortably, pushing back the memories of a young naïve girl, who thought herself hardened and bitter, carefully making a birthday present for her best friend.
“Can I see the other one?”
She thought of the location of the badge she had once treasured. “No.”
Tock pouted. “Fine. It contains quite a few auras, but the strongest one… is quite familiar.” His eyes turned a bright angry red. “Elf!”
“Yeah, it was Hunter’s.”
“That BASTARD! His blasted elf magic forced me to lose my contract with you!” He tossed the badge to the counter with a disgusted grimace. “You’ll never be that perfect combination of desperate and vulnerable again!” He looked back at me. “You are STILL trying to find that elf who dumped you three years ago? And I thought you had standards.”
The ocean song roared in her ears as it sensed her anger, pushing at her control, leaking from her lips. She could feel it swelling beneath her skin, threatening to force itself out. Tock rolled his eyes at the sight.
“Don’t try your battle magic here. You may be quite terrifying to meet in a dark alleyway, but I have some great wards in place.” He sneered as she kept her lips closed tightly. “Just a word of advice: Don’t face off a fairy in his own home.”
Jordan forced her magic down with great struggle, every instinct wanting to lash out. “I don’t want you to find Hunter. I want to know most frequent locations this amulet has been over the past six months.”
“And that’s not the same thing because…”
“Because it’s not him I’m wanting to find.” If he's found mermaids, then the locations he's been, the people he's spoken to... they'll be clues to track them down.
Tock raised an eyebrow. “Then what ARE you trying to find?”
“None of your business. I just need the locations this object has been most frequently.”
“Very well.” His smile became sly, his eyes shifting away from the angry red to a dark blue. “What deal shall we make for me to do this? How about your skin…”
The last word trailed off as Jordan held up a golden coin.
“…”
_________________________________
The silence in the room stretched on, as Tock’s gaze was locked on the object in her hand. His eye color was shifting rapidly, brown, grey, orange, green, before the whole eye filled with color finally turning a solid, glowing silver. His shoulders twitched, and his teeth grew longer in his mouth, the sharp points pressing into his still human appearing lips.
“Where did you get that?” His whisper had lost all of his previous joking tone. There was a small amount of magic woven into his words, a minor compelling spell to force her to speak, and speak truthfully. It buried itself in her ear, making her thoughts foggy. Jordan smiled, shaking her head as the ocean song within her rose in volume, drowning out the fairy magic easily, keeping her mind clear.
“I’ve picked up a lot of things these past few years.”
“ANSWER. THE. QUESTION.”
“No.” Jordan flipped the coin, mimicking the fairy’s earlier actions. “Don’t try your magic on me, fairy. I’ve had too many years of practice ignoring magical compulsions.”
“Fine.” He sighed loudly. “Do you know what it is you have there? Do you know if there’s any more?”
“I’ve heard stories… tales only whispered in dark alleys and in crumbling basements. Do you know in schools here they teach that the humans are the only ones affected by the Darkness? That losing the ability to have children was the be all and end all of the curse?”
“…” Tock kept silent, staring at her. Shrugging, she continued with a mocking smile.
“What a limited view, right? Turns out that everyone lost something to the Darkness. Every single one. It took whatever that species valued most. For humans, such a short-lived, social people, it was taking away the ability to make new generations. But fairies… you are born of magic and air, part of nature and outside of time. Procreation means nothing to you.” She flipped the coin up, letting it spin in the air before catching it and holding it firmly in her hand. “The Darkness took something much more important to you fairies.”
Tock was trembling at her words, unclear if it was with fear or anger. “What do you think the Darkness took from us?”
Jordan glanced at his empty back. “Your wings.”
“…” The fairy’s hands were gripping the counter in front of him. His fingers sank into the wood as easily as if it was made of clay.
“If it were just something to help you fly, I bet you would have simply made do without them. But they represent something much more important, don’t they?” She leaned closer, ignoring his threatening aura. “That’s where fairies store their magic. So now you have the live with the scraps of magic you absorb from the earth and enchanted items, unable to store it within yourself. That’s why you work here, in this pitiful little shop, unable to do more than hide behind these wards and peddle minor magic tricks for favors.”
“Be careful, mermaid…”
“Oh I’m careful enough, Tock.” She opened her hand and stared at the coin in her palm. “No wonder you wanted my skin… how much magic should be stored within it, I wonder. Enough to last you a few years I would think. Which is why this little coin is so important to you.”
“…”
“Fairy gold.” She held it up again. “Quite pretty, actually, looks like the real thing even on close inspection. But if I were to try to spend it… it would expel all the magic stored inside, turning to wood and taking away my lifetime’s luck. An inconvenience for me… but for you?” She grinned. “It stores enough magic for you to live comfortably for quite some time. You could leave this shop, set up protective wards wherever you ended up. Magic enough to stabilize your appearance so your eyes and ears don’t change; let you blend in if you wanted to leave your house for a change. “
“…”
“So what do you say, Tock.” Jordan flipped the coin one last time. “Do we have a deal?”
After a long pause, the fairy spoke up. “… I …”
“TOCK ARE YOU HERE?!!”
The shop door slammed open and a short redheaded young man burst in. As he rushed to the counter, Jordan got a closer look. He was a few inches shorter than her, his leaner frame still obviously muscular. His facial features were handsome, with bright green eyes that glowed with excitement and fiery red hair that was cropped short. He wore regular clothing, a grey t shirt and jeans, and would have seemed very average except for the massive axe strapped to his back.
Who the heck is this?
“Glit, this isn’t the time.” Tock warned, his tone still angry and tense.
“No, Tock, I’ve been thinking about it… maybe I SHOULD be willing to compromise… exactly how much skin would you need to help me find the dwarves?”
The fairy’s eyes glowed an excited gold, his teeth retracting once more as he stabilized his appearance. “Well now…”
“Add his bill to mine.” Jordan interrupted, glaring at Tock. “No skin.”
“But… that’s unfair! We already had a deal!”
“You didn’t accept it in time, so now the deal has changed. “ She shrugged “The price I’m offering is more than enough to cover us both. I would suggest you take the deal before it changes again.”
Tock glared. “FINE! FINE, I ACCEPT!”
The young man turned to her, shocked. She met his gaze, holding back the urge to sigh. Jordan wasn’t much one for random acts of kindness to strangers, but he reminded her of herself a few years ago. Lost, desperate… the only kind of people who can slip past Tock’s wards. She just wasn’t sure what his reaction would be to her interference… annoyance? Gratitude?’
He grinned at her. “You look really strong! Wanna fight?!”
… Well that certainly hadn’t been the reaction she was expecting.
“Maybe later…”
His shoulders slumped. “Dangit. I was losing hope of meeting a strong person in this awful city… no offense if you like it here.”
“None taken, I don’t.”
“I finally meet someone worthy of a good fight, and I make a terrible first impression.” He sighed. “My Ma always did say I needed to work on my introductions.”
“…And you are?”
His eyes widened. “I haven’t told you that yet?” His hand slapped his forehead. “Sorry, must have been distracted by the whole ‘trading my skin’ thing. I’m Glitenaere ni Tolk Vhelarite, firstborn of Marleiun ge Nerturin, the greatest Dwarven warrior alive… but you can call me Glit!”
She looked over the short young man. “You are the greatest warrior?”
“Nope. My Ma.”
“You’re a dwarf?”
“Since I was born.”
Jordan felt curious, having only ever read about dwarves from human textbooks, which said they were a reclusive, unfriendly race.
The reportedly unfriendly, reclusive dwarf was reaching out to shake her hand. “Thanks for the saving my skin, friend!”
She didn’t take his hand. “Shouldn’t you have a beard?”
Tock burst out into laughter, his eyes turning a humorous magenta. “Wow, way to go straight for the gut.”
“Aww, shut up fairy, she didn’t mean anything by it. Can’t blame her for not knowing in a city like this.” Glit leaned against the counter, rubbing his chin with an idle hand. “I’m a darkling, a child born infected by the Darkness.”
“Every race lost something.” Jordan whispered.
“Not everyone was infected, but those who were never grew beards.” He looked sad for a brief moment. “It’s a symbol of strength, of connection to the Earth… everything in our culture revolves around it.”
“What about the women?”
“Oh they grow them too. You should see my Ma. Her beard makes all the boys cry with jealousy.” Glit laughed. “They all thought with her being the strongest and all, her child would be too… but…”
“…Sorry.”
“Oh don’t worry, friend. I’m not weak. I may not have a connection with the earth and a powerful beard, but I’m a force to be reckoned with when I have an axe in my hand!”
Tock looked up, his eyes turning bright white. “You may have to test that out sooner rather than later. We have company.”
BANG! Something slammed into the closed door behind them.
_________________________________
Jordan took a defensive stance, while Glit drew his axe. “Who’s coming?”
“Probably one of those damn purity obsessed groups. They constantly sweep the slums, looking for low bloods and part elves. Usually the wards keep them away, but today, I got a little… distracted. “
“Great. Not really in the mood to deal with these guys, Tock.”
“They bad guys?” Glit spoke up.
“Yep.” Jordan answered softly. “They do horrible things to those who can’t defend themselves.”
“Fair enough. Today they picked on the wrong type of people, though.” Glit grinned. “Let’s kill them!”
His easy acceptance of the violence they would face ahead gave her a little pause. Before she could examine it too closely, the door crashed open, and a large group of men wearing black cloths around the lower halves of their faces rushed in. In their hands were standard pistols, the dull metal glinting off the many lamps of Tock’s shop.
“Looks like we got a haul, boys!” One of them spotted Glit and Jordan, his eyes widening with shock. “That short one definitely can’t be high purity… he’s either a low blood or a dirty elf mix blood! And the other…” He glanced and Jordan and laughed. “A No Blood? Thought they were all gone!”
Glit twirled the massive axe in his hand with ease, looking confused. “Do I look like an elf?”
Jordan thought of the tall quiet young man who had always followed behind her, always trying to avoid violence. “Not even a little.”
“Ah.” He tossed the axe lightly, catching it with the other hand. “Hey fellas, despite your insults and poor eyesight, I’m gonna be nice. Here’s your one chance to run away, before my strong friend and I start slicing you to pieces.”
Even with the majority of his face covered, the disdain on the attacker’s face was evident. “Shut up, dirty elf! Even with your axe, you really think you can face a group with guns?" He snorted, "Now we’re gonna have fun killing you.”
Glit just laughed at the threat. “I was hoping you guys would say that!”
As the group of attackers spread out around the room, he turned to face one side, leaving his back open to Jordan.
Jordan hesitated briefly at Glit’s open back, startled at the gesture of trust, before slowly turning to cover him. She glanced around to see that Tock had disappeared before closing her eyes, calling up the song within her and setting it free.
From her mouth a song of battle rang out. Several of the attackers stopped in their tracks, caught in her illusion, but the rest were only mildly affected, just barely losing their grips on their weapons.
Jordan cursed silently, still singing. Her magic was very effective against small groups of enemies, but the more people it was spread out against, the less useful it would be.
As the song of death spilled constantly from her lips, she felt her nails grow out into claws and moved forward, striking the attackers that were not incapacitated first. From the side she heard Glit run forward, spinning his axe, blood and tissue flying through the air as he cut through enemies.
Blood dripped from her fingers. She heard someone behind her, preparing to strike and turned, grabbing his neck. She felt the water within his heart, and used her magic to stop it in place. His face turned pale, and clutching his chest, he fell to the ground.
Jordan was feeling the drain of her magic. Her vision was turning a bright blue, the song growing in her mind, calling for her to give in completely.
BANG! A shot rang out past her ear, and sensing the danger, the song surged louder in her soul.
Can’t give up all control to my instincts. She thought grimly, slicing the shooter’s face. I might just lose myself completely.
It was hard, fighting against physical enemies while resisting the magical bind of her own blood, but Jordan forced herself forward, grateful for the help of the dwarf beside her. If she had faced all these enemies by herself, she might have lost to the bloodlust within her.
The air was filled with blood and screams.
And then… there was silence.
__________________________________
Jordan’s vision cleared as she forced the song of the ocean down, keeping it tightly controlled within herself. Her nails retracted and she stood in place, staring down at the blood on her hands.
Hunter always said he didn’t want me to be a killer. She closed her eyes briefly with pain. She felt dirty, worthless. Maybe if I wasn’t one he wouldn’t have left me behind.
Lost in her thoughts, she only came out of it as she felt a warm touch on her hands. Shocked, her eyes flew open, only to see Glit pushing a large wet cloth into her grasp.
“Here, friend, you can clean your hands with this.”
She paused, unused to the kindness, but took it anyways. “Thanks.”
“No problem! You’re amazing! That battle song… had magic in it right? Are you not human?”
“Mermaid.” The word came out before she could stop it, and Jordan pressed her lips together, annoyed. He’s a stranger. No need to tell him anything more. She tucked the dirty rag in her pocket, not wanting to give Tock a free sample of her blood.
“Really? I thought they had all disappeared!” Glit’s face lit up. “My Ma always said that the mermaids were the only warriors she wouldn’t want to face up against! That’s awesome!”
She glanced at the dismembered bodies on his side of the room. “You’re not such a bad fighter yourself.”
His smile brightened. “Really? Thanks! Those guys back home thought I was pretty useless, being a Darkling and all, but if a mermaid warrior says so, I’ll trust your opinion!”
“This is all very touching… but what am I supposed to do about the mess you made?” Tock’s annoyed tone caught their attention.
“We fought off your attackers while you hid in the back, fairy.” Jordan raised an eyebrow. “You can worry about the mess. You’re lucky we don’t charge you for the service.”
“Yeah, what she said!” Glit crossed his arms, standing at her shoulder, and smiled at Tock, the still bloody axe in his hand making the gesture threatening.
Tock rolled his now yellow eyes. “Fine. While you two were gleefully tearing those idiots to pieces, I finished the tasks you gave me.” He spread a map on the counter, ignoring as the far corner was stained with blood. Jordan recognized it as a map of the city. With a golden pen the fairy circled a few buildings. “Here’s where the amulet has spent the most time in the last six months, in order of most time spent.”
She glanced over at Glit beside her. “And the dwarves?”
“Tougher, since he doesn’t have a possession from the dwarves in question, but…” He picked up a silver marker, and circled one place. “There is a high concentration of earth magic here.”
Glit and Jordan stared at the spot, where silver and gold overlapped.
“Looks like me might be looking for the same place.” She whispered.
“Really? That’s great, friend!” He paused. “By the way, what’s your name?”
“Jordan. But I don’t think we’re friends. I don’t trust anyone.” Not anymore.
“Jordan!” He grinned. “Don’t worry, we can still be friends. You don’t have to trust me. I’ll trust you enough for the both of us.”
Tock groaned. “You’re so naïve… why couldn’t you have shown up when the mermaid wasn’t around?! I could have extorted you for so much skin!”
Jordan grabbed the map silently, unsure of how to respond to the dwarf’s enthusiasm.
“If you’re going there, can we go together? I’m looking for a large group of dwarves that disappeared, we think they might be being held captive in the city.”
“…You really shouldn’t trust people so easily.” Her words came out as a pained whisper.
Glit’s face became solemn for the first time since they met. “It’s okay. I’ve grown up in a world that hates me. It’s not been easy, but over the years, I’ve developed a good sense of those around me, and what kind of people they are.”
“And kind of person do you think I am?” She was genuinely curious what the cheerful dwarf thought of her.
“You? Well, you’re someone who cares too much and wishes you wouldn’t. My guess is that you’ve been hurt very badly by someone you trusted… and now you would never wish that same pain on another person.” He shrugged. “So that’s why I trust you. You might kill me if you have to, but you’ll do it facing me. You won’t stab me in the back. You couldn’t bear to do that to someone after what you’ve been through.”
“Interesting opinion.” Jordan felt a strange mixture of despair and relief at his words. “Not put off by me killing men while they’re stunned by magic? That wasn’t just a fight…I’m a killer.”
“Hmm… well, I just chopped up six guys with an axe, and the only reason they didn’t shoot a bunch of holes in me is because of your magic, so I’m pretty sure I can’t judge.” Glit patted her on the back. “Are you looking for mermaids, like I’m looking for dwarves?”
She nodded silently, although silently she thought their reasons for looking were quite different.
“Then let’s go find our people together! You don’t have to trust your back to me, but don’t worry! I’ll defend it anyways.”
“Can you two leave?" Tock rubbed his face tiredly, his eyes flickering between purple and pink. "This touchy feely stuff is bad for my business. What if some desperate fool walks in and is inspired by all your motivational speaking?”
Jordan tossed him the fairy gold, taking back the silver badge she had given him, and turned and left the shop. “Never coming back, Tock.”
“Keep telling yourself that, my fishy friend!” He called back. “You’ll come back. They always do.”
“Okay then! See you later, Tock!” Glit called out as he walked behind her.
“…Actually, I would prefer it if YOU don’t come back. You give me a headache.”
Jordan and Glit left the carnage filled shop behind them
_________________________________
“So mermaids and dwarves being held in the center of the city.” Glit thought out loud. “Some sort of human conspiracy?”
Jordan thought of growing up in the orphanage, the city’s emphasis on having higher purity of mermaid blood rather than human, the complete lack of information on other races. She thought of Hunter and the underground Resistance. Of the Darkness that spread everywhere, touching every species.
Everyone lost something to the darkness, right?
So what did mermaids lose?
... What did I lose?
“There’s something broken about this world, more going on here then we realize.” Jordan answered softly. “But we’re going to figure it out.”
“Together?”
“For now.”
“Awesome!” He pumped a fist in the air. “Wait until I tell my Ma I went on a quest with a mermaid warrior. She’s gonna be so impressed!” He paused. “You two would get along, I think. Strong warrior types and all.”
Jordan sighed, rubbing her forehead.
“Why does everyone keep sighing around me?”
“… Let’s go. “
_________________________________
They moved quietly towards the place marked on the map. Glit, surprisingly, activated a hidden mechanism on his axe, folding it into thirds and hiding it in a backpack, and pinned on a “34” badge. He saw her glance at the silver ornament and shrugged. “Snatched this off some guy who tried to mug me when I arrived in town. Most people think I’m just a low purity level student when I’m dressed like this .”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-three.”
“…” Older than me? Jordan adjusted her mental view of him silently.
“Don’t worry if you thought I was younger.” He raised his hands helplessly. “No beard and the dwarven height tends to confuse people.”
“Sorry.”
“No worries, as long as you don’t think I’m weak and helpless just because I’m shorter than you.”
She thought of him cutting through enemies with his axe. “No chance of that.”
They made they way to the abandoned factory that Tock had marked for them. As they neared the area, Glit pulled out a machine from his bag waving it through the air.
“What’s that?”
“Dwarven machine, it detects the presence of magic.” He frowned. “We need to be careful. This whole place is covered with spells.”
“If this was a human holding place…”
“It shouldn’t have magic.” He finished her thought. “Maybe go up to the roof and enter from there instead?”
They scaled the wall silently, cutting a small hole in the roof with yet another tool from Glit’s bag. As she peered into the building, she felt the ocean’s song start welling up within her.
“There’s danger here. We should go back and regroup.”
“Jordan, look out!” Glit pushed her to the side, wincing as the blow from behind her struck his head instead.
Jordan opened her mouth to release her magic, but before a sound could escape, a hand grasped her arm and magic flooded her body.
“Sleep.” The voice was familiar, but her mind was already falling into darkness.
Jordan woke up on a couch in a dark room. Groaning, she rubbed her head, feeling angry. She knew this feeling, this hung over dizzy sensation. Remembered it too clearly even though she wished she could forget.
“Elven magic.”
Glit groaned from his sprawled position in the corner of the room, his arms and legs tied tightly. The ropes dug into his skin, but he ignored it as he flipped his body into a sitting position on the floor, looking up at her with a sad expression. “Sorry I missed them behind us.”
“It’s fine, thanks for taking that hit for me.” She glanced at the wound on his head, crusted with dried blood, and winced. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just a friendly tap. I’ve got a hard head.” He grinned, then looked around. “Real question is, who has us, and why?”
“I have an idea... but I really hope I’m not right.”
“You always did have good instincts, Jordan.”
The familiar voice spoke up from the doorway, Jordan forced herself to sit up on the couch, staring at their captor with a pained expression.
She knew him.
Of course she knew him.
He had set his trap, sent her his badge, knowing she would use it… and she had fallen for it.
The man who haunted her nightmares smiled sadly at her. “Not happy to see me?”
She blinked, shaking her head slowly. “Hello again, Hunter.”
#writing#fantasy#violence#elves#mermaids#dwarves#fairies#apocalypse#action#part 2 is here!#Will answer asks with next pfts part
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Just recently, I stumbled across @owls-house‘s post on MSN’s article about some of the first look details of The Owl House while looking through some of the older posts about upcoming news on the show before it came out, and this particular section caught my eye in light of everything we currently know about the Boiling Isles and the cast of the show:
The Owl House:
The Owl House is a living structure that Eda has charmed so that she could live there and be safe from outside forces. Quaint and cottage-like on the outside, with a storefront facade, the inside of the Owl House is full of secret rooms, with a labyrinth for a basement. Hooty, the door knocker, serves as the home’s defense system.
Given how the Owl House is supposed to be Eda’s safe haven and how she hasn’t really shown that much of an interest in puzzle solving and mysteries, the two bolded details immediately stood out to me.
I mean, from what we’ve seen of her, Eda has never really struck me as someone who’d construct or even want to deal with a labyrinth in the first place - particularly one that’s completely unnecessary if its supposed to be a basement to simply just store things in - and I very much doubt Eda would install a whole bunch of secret rooms into her house that presumably go unused when she likes to collect things so often, let alone go through all the trouble of making entire rooms dedicated to being secret when we’ve seen her be content with the amount of rooms she already uses.
And that’s without asking where and what the heck these secret rooms are supposed to be about specifically, as while they are secret and thus understandably not generally supposed to be easily found, they would have to be VERY small rooms to fit inside with the relative dimensions of all the rooms we’ve seen so far compared to the size of the exterior, and that’s without asking about what purpose they would even serve.
As for the apparent labyrinth, such a word tends to evoke the image of some incredibly huge and complex maze-like structure with single overall path and no dead ends - although it’s often been used interchangeably used with ‘maze,’ which is basically a labyrinth with dead ends, so who knows what it actually looks like here - and yet there is no sign of any kind of tunnel when an animated Hooty stood up in Hooty’s Moving Hassle let alone hardly any implied space for the kind of grand, sprawling structure the word ‘labyrinth’ evokes.
Now, I’ve brought this up in my last theory about the Owl House as a structure, but as a brief summary, I deduced that it is not a place that Eda had constructed completely all on her own, but rather an amalgamation of a bunch of parts of different buildings that had gotten attached to one center section: aka the middle part of the house with white brickwork - or the Owl Temple as I’ve dubbed it before.
And after looking through the flooring and walls of the rooms we’ve seen so far of the Owl House, I’ve concluded that the labyrinth at the very least is located or accessible from either underneath the carpet in the living room:
Or somewhere inside the parapet/battlement thing that serves as the floor of Eda’s balcony:
Obviously, considering the likely size of both of these rooms in relation to the dimensions of the house, they must be hidden away by magic, whether it be through magical pocket dimensions or the like, but this just raises the questions of why these rooms exist in the first place.
For me, I can see only two possible explanations for both questions, both of which I’ve outlined extensively down below:
TLDR: Either the original people who used the Owl Temple a long time ago had build those rooms into it, or they are a potentially significant part of Hooty’s biology as the house itself
Option 1: They were built by the original inhabitants of the Owl Temple
Like I’ve discussed before, I suspect that - from the owl mural and the way the curtains are arranged - the living room used to be used as an altar or ritual room for some kind of owl spirit/deity, so following off that kind of conclusion, it’s possible that the rest of the temple was designed in a similar fashion related to the Owl Deity.
Perhaps these secret rooms are only unlockable through puzzles and riddles to play into how owls are usually portrayed as wise old creatures, hiding away ‘treasures’ not of gold and wealth, but rather of information and books. Maybe these secret rooms could have been like places of study where one could peruse ancient tomes or collect knowledge without being disturbed, or they could simply be full on ordinary rooms that people lived and slept in but with doors that can only be unlocked in a particular way ala the Ravenclaw dorms in Harry Potter.
As for the labyrinth, it could have been meant as a way to test one’s mind and observation skills/as part of one’s initiation, requiring an attentive eye to detail or such to figure out the one single route in and out of it. Maybe it holds some kind of great secret of knowledge or an important ancient artifact that only those who can figure out the path can find/use.
Of course, there IS the small chance it functioned more like a quirky cult with the labyrinth posing as part of kind of bizarre ritual or being used for sacrificial duty, but I very much doubt that this would even get past the censors let alone even got implemented with how un-cult-like the glimpses of the base design of the Owl Temple has been so far.
That said, given how I’ve speculated that something happened that led to the Owl Temple being abandoned, falling into disrepair and obscurity long before Eda first discovered it, she likely has next to absolutely no idea about the existence of at least most of these rooms, so it would be interesting to see exactly how the cast will eventually and inevitably find and explore these hidden rooms and labyrinth, especially with the chance at discovering long-forgotten knowledge or even uncovering dark secrets and old truths that have been suppressed and forgetten by the present day.
However, though I think this explanation and ramifications thereof would be interesting to explore in its own right, I can’t help but think that the second, more likely explanation would easily expand upon and add quite the intrigue to a particular character I’ve had my eye on for a good while:
OPTION 2: They are a part of Hooty and are only increasing in size and number as he grows
We all know that Hooty IS the house itself as demonstrated by his manipulation of various parts of the structure and from statements by Eda, but whereas the prior explanation was based on the idea that the old inhabitants had created the secret rooms and labyrinth themselves before Hooty came into the equation, here I’d like to propose that the rooms are a side result of Hooty slowly regenerating back into a full sized Owl Temple.
With the kind of importance and likely amount of people that would be present or living in such a place, it seems rather likely that what we see of the Owl Temple in the Owl House is but a small-ish remnant of the entire thing, especially with the doorframe in Eda’s room that most likely connected to another section or large area that she either couldn’t salvage in an intact-enough state or didn’t care about to bring with her.
However, though Eda’s additions seems to have been integrated relatively neatly with what she found of the Owl Temple for Hooty to probably be able to affect them, they are likely nowhere near enough to make up for the rest of the missing Temple.
As such, Hooty could potentially and unknowingly be growing new rooms to make up for the rest of the Temple - kind of like a yolk becoming a baby chick inside of its shell, forming organs and bones and etc until it’s big and strong enough to emerge.
Though here, instead of breaking apart the foundations and outside of the Owl House entirely, perhaps this transformation would be more like the structure suddenly expanding outwards and quickly stretching everything about itself similar a video about plant growth on fast forward, up until the outer dimensions match the ever increasing inner dimensions.
With this kind of analogy, it’d make sense why Eda wouldn’t know about these rooms and why Hooty wouldn’t bring them up, as to the former, they literally weren’t there when she salvaged what she could of the Temple, and for the latter, they’re just such a natural part of his body that he simply doesn’t notice.
Now, why I think that this would add an interesting layer of mystique to Hooty’s character is because of the important question of - if and when he finds out about these rooms - whether Hooty would be able to consciously control their structure and arrangement however he wants.
After all, if the answer is YES, then we might get to begin to see the full capacity of both Hooty’s power and his patience if he gets ticked off and decides to turn the inside of the house into this:
It would not only be an amazing opportunity for some glorious mind screwy animation with the transformation of a location we’ve all become accustomed to into something straight out of M C Escher’s nightmares, but would also give an opportunity to build Hooty’s character MUCH further beyond the complete butt monkey he’s been portrayed as.
Outside of Eda calling him a “state of the art defense system” in the first episode, he has barely gotten any respect and has never been treated seriously compared to even King. And even when he seems to have temporarily died in The Intruder given the crossed-out eyes and the lights going out in the house when they’re apparently directly controlled by him, Luz and King didn’t really stay that concerned for long. Heck, King was more annoyed at hearing Hooty’s voice again rather than being happy that he was still alive.
After enduring all of that, it’s a wonder that Hooty hasn’t snapped any sooner, so how he’d react when he finally can get people to listen to him without them being able to just simply ignore him or leave would open up the gates to his inner psyche and how he really feels about everyone and the way they treat him.
Exactly how he’d manipulate the interior dimensions would be extremely telling of what kind of character he truly is at heart, what with the sheer kind of power trip from being in complete control over such a space vs how he would be calmed down from it, AND it’d mark a major and permanent shift in how everyone treats the being they live in on a daily basis due to how much mutual trust and respect both Hooty and his inhabitants would likely have to rebuild in each other to be able to go about their day and keep their relationships intact.
That, and it’d be a REALLY interesting glimpse into the full eldritch nature of a house with many more rooms on the inside than the outside suggests, one that actually has a mind and consciousness to drive it and thus one that you don’t really want to piss off if you can. Just think of all the fun horror/mind screw that could be done with such an episode about this.
Of course, this does bring into question exactly what is the deal with the labyrinth, but running off the seemingly one-time joke from the first episode where - instead of simply opening the door like he’s done in every other episode - Hooty lets everyone in by opening his mouth and even burping, the entire living room could easily be equated as Hooty’s stomach.
I’ve discussed this with @sepublic a bit, but because of how he can stretch vertically instead of just his neck as shown above, as well as the likely placement of the labyrinth underneath the living room, I suspect that the labyrinth might be doubling as Hooty’s intestines given the way real intestines fold and twist around while also having one single route through them like a labyrinth does.
That, and that Hooty may have gained Eda’s trust as a good enough defense system for her to rely on by being able to do this to whoever tries to attack the house from time to time:
I would not be surprised if Luz or Eda or whoever checks out the labyrinth later in the series might find the remains of some of Eda’s old enemies down there.
That said, considering how much bigger the original Owl Temple might possibly be than the Owl House, Hooty would likely require quite a LOT of material/energy to build back those rooms and other parts of the Temple. And given how he doesn’t exactly seem to passively be feeding off ambient magic or something alongside the comparison to intestines, well...
It just makes one wonder just what state those remains are in, let alone how recognizable they even still are in the first place.
#the owl house#owl house#the owl house theory#owl house theory#hooty#speculation#long post#amnesiac owl deity hooty theory
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Grunkle Stan’s Commentary on “Land Before Swine”
Alex Hirsch, like the absolute treasure that he is, recorded a second commentary on “Land Before Swine” which was told in Grunkle Stan’s voice, in-character the whole time. This is by no means a complete transcript. It just includes some of the highlights.
So, if you wanna learn some classic grifts, hear about Stan’s typical morning routine, and learn a horrifying fact about Old Man McGucket (among many other things), look no further than below the cut!
“So apparently my grand-nephew Dip Dop was recording with Soos’s camera for the entire summer, like a little weirdo. Like every single thing we did, he was recording. It’s kinda creepy. He gets that from Ford, I think. That, and his inability to make eye contact with women. Anyway, he wanted me to, I guess, give commentary on this day he recorded, for, I dunno, a school project or something? So here I am. Here’s my voice. Crank up the volume. You really want to hear the gravel. Your neighbors do too. It really takes a lot of bad living to make your voice sound this way, so I’ve earned it. Enjoy.”
(On the title sequence) This is very professional. Frankly, it’s embarrassing that [Dipper] spent this much time on it.
“So yeah this was just a regular day in my life. Little bit of scamming people, little bit of punching dinosaurs in the face…”
“Y’know I heard on AM radio one day that vaccines let the government read your thoughts. Nice try, Uncle Sam! Go back to Russia!”
“I’m partially deaf because my ears are next to my mouth, and I’ve been diagnosed as having no indoors voice.”
“Dipper’s mom said to keep them away from cliffs and cemeteries and keep an eye on them, but she didn’t say anything about monsters, so I think I’m covered, honestly.”
“What did I do that day? Let’s see… I got out of bed, I did 300 push ups, I ate some steamed carrots… [laughs] no, come on, what do I look like, a sucker? You only live once, friends. Here’s a real routine for Grunkle Stan. I got out of bed, ate a basket of cold cinnamon rolls I’d found in a drawer, laid on the carpet for about an hour until Soos came and poked me with a stick, y’know that’s basically how most of my days start up. And then I went into the basement to work on that darn portal. I mean, I can talk about that right? Cat’s out of the bag now. I was trying to teach myself high school math so I could get the thing up and running. I also did a lot of punching the portal.”
“This unicorn made out of corn, I bought that at a rummage sale. I shoulda known someone would eat it. I had a running bet with Wendy on if it would get eaten by Soos or Dipper or Mabel… forgot about the pig. Probably shoulda bet on the pig.”
“Here’s the kid up in the attic in the dark like a creep. Like a weirdo. Y’know, I think all photographers, there’s something wrong with their heads. They’re passively observing life, not like me, grabbing life by the horns and making money off of it.”
“I’ve never seen a bumper sticker that didn’t make me laugh.”
“This is a tale I told Mabel to help her see the real me. Because you know, sometimes the truth is hiding within a lie.”
“You wanna hear about the real Grunkle Stan, right? You all see this paragon of attractiveness and virtue, but you probably want to hear about the warts an all. You probably want to hear about my ex wife, right?”
“Everyone in gravity falls has run over old man mcgucket at least once”
“This is the dream. To charge saps to literally look at sap. Like, I’m always scamming people, but pun-based scams, that’s the sweetest plum. I coulda made that happen! Sadly I lost the chance when the place caved in.”
“I suppose Sixer might be able to make some kind of drill that could get me back down to the dinosaur cave, but y’know, his inventions always backfire.”
(Tells story) “…he was still more popular than me. Y’know, not my fault, I just have an excess of personality. Some people get jealous. Dad always taught me the best way to get people to respect you is to punch the biggest person in the room, the first time you enter that room. But if you do that in school, then apparently you have ‘rage problems’, according to the school counselor. Darn hippie.”
“But push comes to shove, I’m not a bad guy. Right?”
“Alright if you’ve got popcorn, now’s the time when you should eat it, because prepare for some heroism.”
“Eh, I don’t need kids. Washington, Lincoln, Hamilton, those are my children. My children is money. I could, maybe I dunno, glue them together in the shape of a child or something.”
“I do have, and I don’t mean to brag, but I do have an obscene amount of money.”
“You wanna learn some classic grifts?”
“Okay, here’s the Grunkle Grift. You pay a bunch of hobos a fish head a piece to dress up as a barbershop quartet. And then you need to get six — not five — six live bats, and a little guy dressed as a baby. Now here’s the really important part: don’t use an actual baby in this grift. I learned that the hard way. Wait, sorry, interrupt that thought… I can’t remember how we got out of this one. Did we die? Am I in the afterlife right now?”
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Solidarity
Karolina confines in Gert.
She called Gert. She had to, she needed someone. Everything was getting to be too much. Her mom’s a murderer, she… has a superpower and everything with Nico-… She just needed someone to talk to…
After they’d hung out after school a few days ago, Karolina had begun to think of Gert as a friend again, little by little, and she didn’t even think twice about calling her.
Gert picks up on the third ring, and after Karolina asks a quiet “Can you come over?” she promised to ‘…be there in ten.’
“Hey, rainbow,” Gert greets her when she opens the door and Karolina can’t hide her surprise as she stumbles back a step, leaning heavily into the door,
“E-excuse me?” “Uh, your lights…” Gert explains as she gestures awkwardly to her arms, “You light up, changing different colors, you literally shoot colored light from your arms… any of that ringing a bell?”
“Oh, yeah, right,” Karolina mumbles and her ears grow red in embarrassment. They’re surrounded silence a moment later and as it grows awkward, Gert shifts on her feet and a few sharp ‘clinks’ ring through the air. A pack of Heineken dangles unnoticed in her left hand.
“You brought beer,” Karoline states, moving aside to open the door wider, letting Gert in,
“Yeah, uh, you sounded like you needed some on the phone.” She nods at that, trailing after Gert as they make their way to her room.
“What, did you raid your parent’s liquor cabinet or something?”
“No, they keep it open. They always say that it’s better to experiment with drugs at home and supervised than somewhere else,”
Karolina nods at her words before stepping forward to enter her bedroom door.
“Woah, what happened to your room?” Gert just about exclaims as the destroyed state of her pictures and the contents of her desk come into full view.
“Oh yeah. I broke some stuff, it’s not a big deal.” She shrugs before kneeling, moving to pick up the binders and strewn pieces of paper that had fallen out of them and littered themselves around her floor, brushing wayward pieces of glass off of them as she goes along.
“Wow, you’ve got some anger under that smiley exterior,” Gert says as she sets the beer down next to Karolina’s bed before kneeling beside her,
“Yeah, just because I’m blonde and religious doesn’t mean I’m not capable of feeling more than one complex emotions.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Gert mutters teasingly, her words holding no malice.
They work together quietly, efficiently picking up the papers and the larger shards of glass and depositing them on her desk.
They stand together, admiring their handiwork when Gert points at her previously neat wall of pictures, asking
“What are you going to do about those?”
“We’ve got some extra picture frames in the basement, actually.”
“What’re the odds that your basement has a murder dungeon, too?” Karolina rolls her eyes, exiting her room, and moving to grab the broom from the kitchen before re-emerging in her doorway. Gert walks over and takes the broom from her wordlessly, beginning to sweep up the glass.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
The basement of her house was the most cluttered part of it by far. There were enough boxes down there to hide the gray of the walls behind them. There used to be enough dust residing on the cardboard that when she was younger, she almost died from an asthma attack from being down there for only a minute or two. It was better now, thankfully, an air purifier made by Wizard Co. ran perpetually down there but still, even in the present, her throat closed up a little in the confined space.
She’d ventures around a stack of boxes before she found ones labeled ‘Living Room’. It’s crazy that they’ve kept all of this stuff even though they’d been living in that house all of Karolina’s life. The tape sealing the box together come off easily, it’s adhesive long since withered away.
A small smile forms on her face at the first thing she sees; an old photo of her grandfather. Her fingertips ghost atop it. He looked practically ethereal as he basked in the warm glow of the sun near the Santa Monica Pier. It was one of her favorite memories, one of the only memories of her grandpa that she still remembered.
They’d sat together in the sand and he explained to her the importance of a smile, how the small gesture of smiling at a stranger could give them a reprieve from their hardships, a small reprieve of the storm of their day into a bright clear sky, if only for a moment. One of the philosophies of the Church of Gibborim that she would soon come to know.
The memory makes lacks its usual loving glow, instead, it makes her heart heavier, placing bitterness and sorrow in the place where warmth used to reside whenever she thought about the practices of her church… Whenever she thought of her grandfather she’d used to think about the love and light of the Church of Gibborim provided her but now… Now she can only wonder how much of that her family actually believed. Believed in.
As she looked around her basement that she knew held so much family history that there almost wasn’t enough space to keep it all, Karolina felt nothing but sadness and revulsion as she regarded it all.
Gibborim paraphernalia disguised as family heirlooms and treasures items litter the house, masking the disingenuity of it all behind religious practices Karolina doesn’t even know her Mother actually believes -that she doesn’t even know if she believes anymore.
After all, how can you preach daily about the spreading happiness and sharing smiles when one of the last smiles one of you followers may form very well might be the last they ever get to bring into this word.
Her stomach roils painfully at the thought.
Everything she’s been taught might as well have been a lie. It feels so cold. Sterile. Impersonal. And it’s then that Karolina realized that she has more color and warmth in her left arm than in her whole house.
Karolina finds herself wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible. She places the picture back down, finding the empty frames she’d been looking for in the next box over and as she climbs back up the stairs and into her houses back room, she feels like she can breathe a little easier. For more reason than one.
“We’re not going to be able to drink those here, my dad likes to pop in to check on me and they’re definitely not going to be happy that this.” Karolina reminds Gert as she gets handed a picture frame, placing it in its previous spot on her wall.
“Yeah, well, our parents have murderous tendencies, are you really that worried about what they approve of right now.”
“Not my dad.” She interjects sharply and Gert raises her eyebrows in question.
“What?”
“My dad’s not a part of it,” Karolina states resolutely, her voice strong.
“How do you know?” Gert asks and Karolina can’t help but release a small chuckle.
“Have you seen him? My mom’s the head of the church, my dad hasn’t even officially gone ultra-”
“Is that even a real thing or is it a code for... You know.” She shrugs,
“I don’t know but… I just know that he’s not. I have faith in him. That he believes the things my mother preaches.”
“Do you still believe the things your mom preaches?” She doesn’t answer.
They park on the far side of the beach parking lot, Gert’s car stalls under a blanket of shadow as a low rush of warm air coaxes itself through the car’s vents, cutting through the slight chill of the night.
Gert reaches into the back seat and grabs the pack of beer, resting it on the middle console as she slips one out and hands one to Karolina. After the time it took to clean her room and drive in the heated car to the beach, the beer’s warmer than what Karolina would call desirable but with the anticipation of the alcohol releasing the tension on her shoulders… she can’t complain.
They sit in silence together, comfortable and content in each other’s calming presence, watching together as the waves lap lazily against the shore.
It took her a little longer than expected to get used to the bitter taste, she’d have to admit, but when she finds herself more relaxed than she’d been in the three days prior, she can’t find it in herself to care.
It took Karolina almost draining all of her beer to make the thought come into her head: ‘Come out.’ She’s been thinking that more and more lately. It whispers to her in the night when she finds herself fixated the female characters on whatever sitcom is playing and screaming full force whenever Nico comes near her.
She doesn’t really know what comes over her this time, though. Maybe the combined efforts of the alcohol and the betrayal she feels from her mother takes a toll on her awareness… But for some reason, it makes her think that everything will be okay.
“So uh,” She begins, breaking the silence for the first time that night.
“You believe in fighting for social justice and… equality for all and all that, right?”
“Within reason, yeah.”
“Within reason?” She questions, not being able to help it as she tenses up a bit.
“Yeah. You’re not going to see me defending the rights of a neo-nazi, that’s for sure.” She explains and Karolina nods, hiding her sigh of relief in another sip of beer.
They’re silent after that just sitting together as they take in the sea air, lost in their own thoughts. When their first beers are finished, Gert grabs two more, before handing one to Karolina, barely making a sound. She finds her gaze hyperfocused on the alcohol sloshing inside the glass bottle and only after she takes one courage-fueled swig, does her mouth open to spill what she’s wanted too for a while.
“I’m gay.” She blurts out and Gert chokes mid-sip. She begins coughing violently and Karolina reaches out a hand, firmly patting her back until it dies down. Gert’s eyes are wide, watery from the coughs and her voice sounds strained when she speaks up.
“Wait, you’re not into Chase?” She asks and Karolina visibly retracts, shaking her head vehemently.
“No. Definitely not. I-I uh,” She takes a deep breath. Steeling herself, steadying herself. She contemplates stopping at that as the suddenly more and more familiar feeling of fear rests lowly in her stomach but the confused look Gert’s giving her isn’t one of disgust, but one of curiosity and it’s that look that gives her the strength to continue.
“I’m a lesbian.” Karolina finds herself enveloped in a tight hug a moment later and she has to tilt her beer away so it doesn’t spill all over the seat. The position’s a little awkward but it gets the point across and the moment is nothing less than perfect. When Gert pulls back, her smile is the most genuine she’s ever seen it and it’s almost enough to bring Karolina to tears.
“Thanks for trusting me enough to tell me,” Gert says and Karolina smiles shyly down at her beer, sighing deeply as the anxiety she was feeling a moment earlier leaves her body.
“So,” Gert says, taking Karolina’s silence as a prompt to continue.
“How’d you figure out that you were a lesbian?”Gert asks and her casual acceptance makes Karolina feel warmer than the buzz that the alcohol is giving her.
“Well, I’ve been trying to ignore it but recently that hasn’t been working out the best for me,” she jokes a bit before her smile grows somber.
“And I have the biggest crush on this girl but I think she’s strai-”
“Nico?” Gert cuts her off, smiling as the look on Karolina’s face confirms her suspicion. “Yeah,” Karolina frowns at her, “How’d you know?”
“I saw the way you two interacted at the coffee house after our mission to save Alex.” She explains, “I don’t know, I assumed that you guys just… really bonded before Molly and I got there… I guess it was a wildly different type of bonding than what I was assuming, though.” She teases. Karolina takes another helpless swig.
“No, nothing like that. When we were back at Alex’s I saw Nico and Alex kissing so… I’d say her heart’s unobtainable at the moment.”
“Oh, man, I know how that feels,” Gert mutters. Karolina looks at her expectantly, prompting her to continue and “Chase,” is all Gert offers to her.
“Oh,” Karolina breathes out. “Oh.” She says again. Gert nods.
“And you may not be into Chase but he’s definitely into you.” She huffs out, sighing into another sip from her bottle. Karoline nods understanding.
“Is that why you’ve been acting a little…”
“Bitchy?” Gert supplies and the giggle Karolina releases turns into a drunken hiccup.
“You said it.”
“I’m really sorry about that, actually…” Gert apologizes,
“I’m not used to being jealous,” Karolina nods at her words, tilting her glass towards Gert’s own and they clink against each other in a mock toast.
“Yeah,” she breathes out. “Neither am I.”
#can i tag this as deanoru?? fuck it imma do it#deanoru#gert & karolina#my brotp#runaways#runaways fanfiction#jxw
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+molliarty: 2018
I promised myself I would spend the last hours of 2017 writing, in the hopes of setting the tone for 2018 that I would spend less time moping about and wasting my life, and instead, doing that which I love which is write. I'm glad to say I've done that. Wherever you are in the world, whenever it is that your clock strikes twelve, here's wishing you hope, health and happiness for 2018. Happy New Year, darlings. x
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A Beginning (also on AO3 and FF.net)
It was not often that Jim found himself in a fix. If anything, he was the master of getaways, literally getting away with every crime he had committed – or helped commit. Furthermore, Jim could not recall the last time he had felt anxious. As a man who always found a solution to everything, this was a perplexing situation he found himself in.
“Sir?” the voice of one of his peons broke his train of thought.
“Hmm?” he answered, somewhat distractedly as he looked up from his desk.
“The mission was a success and we’re ready for your inspection.”
“Ah yes, the spoils of war…” Jim murmured.
“The car is waiting for you, Sir.”
“Excellent.”
All through the car ride to one of his secret safe houses, Jim’s troubled mind continued to whir on. The safe house was empty today, save for the usual security and staff that manned the place. Today had not been a day for prisoner or hostage-taking. Instead, Jim was ushered to a vault at the basement of the building. Stepping into the cold, grey-walled vault, the eyes of a pre-occupied Jim Moriarty merely glanced over the towers of cash and bags of jewels that had been the catch of the day. He almost looked unimpressed in spite of the rather impressive loot displayed before him.
“Is that all?” he said, clicking his tongue casually as his perfectly polished Prada oxfords stepped heedlessly over spilled stacks of pound notes.
In answer to his question, a staff member directed Jim to a small table beside the mountain range of treasure. On it was a very small safe, pristine and unopened.
“What have we here then?” Jim asked, a spark returning to his eyes as the challenge of an unopened safe set his little worry aside for a moment.
He ran his hands gently over the cool metal exterior of the safe, smirking to himself as his mind spun, studying the dial of the safe and working out the combinations in his head. Jim Moriarty never had to break into safes. He merely opened them.
“There…” he whispered to himself, satisfied as he heard the final click of the dial and the glorious sound of the internal catch being released. Slowly, he pulled the metallic door open and his eyes brightened in curiosity at the small velvet pouch that lay in the centre of the safe. Jim reached for the pouch and undid the butterfly knot at its neck. With the mouth of the pouch open, he spilled the contents out onto his palm and gasped softly at what he saw.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Jim, looking up from his palm and turning to the row of staff behind him. “I congratulate you on a job very well done.”
The pleasure that filled Jim from head to toe was not from the sheer beauty of the rare and beautifully-cut ruby that lay glittering on his palm. Instead, it came from the immense relief that his conundrum was now over.
--
With his problem solved and well behind him now, Jim Moriarty could hardly believe the new wave of anxiety that started to creep under his skin again.
“I don’t like this at all,” he muttered to himself, tapping his foot in frustration. Still, he knew what lay ahead of him and, against every instinct he had, extended his gloved finger and pressed the doorbell in front of him.
“Jim! Hi! Come in, come in…”
Her voice alone reminded him why he had texted her if to see if he could come see her and why he was now stood outside her door late at night on New Year’s Eve.
“Thanks Molly,” he said with a genuine smile as he wiped his feet and stepped into her lovely, warm flat.
Molly had already gotten tea ready and poured them each a cup as they settled on her sofa.
“So, how was the New Year’s Eve do?” he asked, reaching for his tea.
“The same as they always are. Clichéd and uneventful,” she answered with a shrug.
“Is that why you’re home before midnight?” said Jim with a little chuckle.
“How clever you are, Jim Moriarty,” she answered with a laugh of her own.
“I’m sorry I couldn't go with you…”
“I’m rather glad you didn’t actually,” Molly remarked, sipping her tea.
“Oh? Why?”
“You’d have been so bored,” laughed Molly, “And I would have felt bad.”
“Never feel bad for me, Molly,” Jim answered, smiling at her.
“I’ll remember that.”
Jim sat up and reached for the pot of tea, proceeding to refill their cups.
“So, what brings you here so suddenly?” asked Molly.
“Would it be too nauseating to say it was because I missed you?” Jim remarked with a teasing glint in his eyes.
His words caused Molly to laugh, almost spilling her cup of tea. She then put her cup down and leaned forward to kiss him gently on the cheek.
“And would it be too nauseating to reply with a kiss?” she asked, smiling against his cheek.
It was his turn to chuckle heartily as he turned to take her face in his hands so as to kiss her properly on the lips.
“If you must know,” said Jim softly after their mouths parted ways, “I just wanted to see you. An office romance isn’t purely restricted to the office, I’ve been told.”
“We must be telepathic then,” Molly replied, amused.
“How so?” asked Jim, slightly confused.
“Because I wanted to see you too.”
Her words lit a quiet fire in his chest, almost causing him to blush. Thankfully, the cold blood that made Jim Moriarty Jim Moriarty contained the flush in his cheeks. Jim really did not like this at all. Yet, here he was – sipping tea with what should have been a prop in his grand scheme but who was now the very centre of his existence.
“Also,” he said, remembering what he had really come to do, “I have something for you.”
Reaching into his pocket, Jim took out a familiar velvet pouch and placed it firmly in Molly’s hands.
“A little something,” he said, somewhat bashfully, “for you.”
Molly stared at what he had placed in her hands before looking up gratefully at him.
“May I open it?” she asked, her eyes shining in excitement.
“Please,” he answered, trying to hide the nerves from before that now resurfaced.
After she had carefully undone the knot, Molly tipped the pouch as a silver necklace with a pendant slid out into her palm. With gentle fingers, Molly lifted the necklace to examine the pendant and her eyes blinked in wonder at how beautiful it was.
There, hanging from a silver chain that Molly held in her fingers, was a miniature but anatomically accurate heart carved intricately out of silver. Not only was it perfectly carved with its details of veins and arteries, embedded just slightly off-centre of it was the exquisite ruby Jim had uncovered from before.
“My god, Jim,” Molly whispered, completely mesmerised by the work of art in her hands.
“Is it too much? I knew I’d overdone it—“
“Rubbish,” interrupted Molly.
“It is, isn’t it? Maybe I should’ve—”
“Jim!” exclaimed Molly, smiling at him, amused, “You’re quite the fool for someone so intelligent.”
Jim had not realised that the waves of anxiety had finally peaked into this moment where he was sure he had gotten everything wrong. It angered him further how much he yearned for her to be happy with his gift.
“So…” he began, a little unsteadily.
“So,” Molly continued for him, “I absolutely love it.”
With that, she turned to him and moved to kiss him again, smiling when she felt his smile against her lips.
“It’s so beautiful, Jim. Thank you,” said Molly.
“I’m glad,” he replied, as he finally began to relax.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Molly continued in wonder as she began to study the pendant. “And this ruby is just—I have no words for how beautifully it gleams even in my flat’s awful lighting
Jim laughed at her comment and gently took the necklace from her. He gestured to her to sweep her hair aside so he could put the necklace on for her. Carefully, he fixed the tiny clasps of the necklace behind her neck and was relieved to see it did suit her.
“I have to ask, Jim…” Molly said, picking the pendant up between her fingers.
“Yes?”
“It looks so expensive. Did you rob a very rich person or something?” she asked with a laugh.
Jim had to blink and compose himself. For a moment, he had forgotten that she still had no clue as to the nature of his real, IT-unrelated occupation. Her joke had, in fact, been fact.
“I did, actually,” he said with smirk, watching in amusement at Molly’s expression of mock horror. “If it’s any consolation, she wasn’t a very pleasant rich person.”
Chuckling at his answer, Molly looked down at her pendant and smiled to herself.
“Well, I am touched you would go to such lengths for me,” Molly remarked, amused.
“Anything for you, Molly,” Jim replied.
It was true, though. Jim had decided he probably would do anything for her. Had that not been the idea behind his gift? Love – and all its nauseating sentiment – was far too visceral a concept for him to handle and yet, with her, it was impossible not to consider it. She was the gem embedded in that heavy, iron heart of his.
“Oh,” Molly exclaimed suddenly.
“What?” Jim asked, sitting up with a start.
“It’s midnight,” answered Molly.
“And so it is,” Jim concurred, checking his watch.
The pair looked at each other and the corners of their lips lifted into smiles. They had not expected to meet this evening, much less cross into the new year together but it seemed now that they had. For Jim, he had not expected to want to begin the new year this way.
“Happy New Year, darling,” whispered Molly as she surprised him with a quick kiss on his temple.
Darling, he thought. Had his insides not already been on fire he was sure he would have melted into her sofa.
“And a Happy New year to you too…darling,” he repeated, turning to kiss her on her beautiful lips.
For Jim Moriarty, this was certainly a new beginning, in more ways than one.
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Regina as a Unicorn?
I was just wondering, has anyone talked about the fact that Regina imprisoned Maleficent in another form, beneath the library? Questioned its relevance? Because I’m about to. Let’s take it apart.
So, in my opinion the Clock Tower and the Storybrooke Library are the center, the main fixture, of Storybrooke.
When the curse was cast time stopped and that clock has been a reminder of that ever since. Of how it all began.Now time is moving again, but when I think about the curse that started it all I think about that particular clock. Then there’s the library beneath it, which means endless books, endless stories. The foundation of which could be seen as fairy tales. In the sense that the first stories kids usually are introduced to are fairy tales.
This is a show about fairy tale characters and how their stories have played out in their world and are playing out now, in the real world. It’s about using fairy tales to make sense of your own life and to give you hope for a better one.
So if both of these pieces are important, are central to Storybrooke and its stories then that stands to reason that what’s beneath it would be too.
Are you with me?
Now, Regina took a bunch of fairy tale characters she hated and stuffed them in a town with fake identities and memories, for all to see. Now this is important. Then, she took her only friend, Maleficent, and then hid her away in another form than she would have mostly known her as in what was practically a basement or dungeon. Why? She took a wolf and made her believe she was human. So why not do the same to a dragon?
I’m getting there.
So there was this season, season 2, on Desperate Housewives with Alfre Woodard’s character, Betty Applewhite, as the new neighbor. And every new season involved a mystery. A secret, usually involving love and tragedy, that they didn’t want their neighbors to know about.
In season 2 Betty Applewhite locked her mentally challenged son up in the basement, because she thought him guilty of murdering a girl he liked. She loved her son and didn’t think he’d survive in prison, so instead she kept him locked up in her home, in their basement, I believe.
On the TV Show Lost Girl, the main character Bo, who was powerful even by succubus standards took an elevator down to the Underworld and it helped her uncover the mystery surrounding her conception, birth and paternity, a storyline that was central to the show. Bo’s lineage was the answer to who she was, all the powers she had. And who her father was was at least 1/3 of that answer. It was a secret no one wanted to talk about or cared to remember.
My point is, when people or things are locked up in basements, even more, basements that take an elevator to get to, you know it’s important.
The only reason to lock something away is if you don’t want anyone to find out about it. Either because you’re ashamed of it. You don’t want to be reminded of it. You want to protect it.
If we look at Regina and Mal’s relationship, they were friends. So why would you want to lock away your friend? You don’t leave them behind in their world. You take them with you and then you lock them up.
On top of that, Regina said at one point that she should know better than to trust blondes. Which gives the impression that she was angry at Mal for betraying her trust and wanted to punish her. She then sends Emma down to kill Mal. But then when Mal gets resurrected she isn’t even angry with Regina. She doesn’t retaliate. Even though she was locked up by Regina for 28 years.
Instead, they pretty much pick up where they left off. With a friendship that, just like when they were younger, speaks to having been something more at one point. They’re right back to betraying each other, even as they are supposed allies. Regina truly allies with Emma and Snow and betrays everyone else she has to in order to keep Emma safe. When Mal and the others find out, Mal leaves Regina to Rumple’s mercy.
In the end, what I’m saying is that Regina’s past with Mal, their history, is important to the current story. It’s important to Emma and Regina’s friendship.
And given how gay it read, especially in flashbacks and how it led to Regina taking Mal with her but locking her up and trapping her in a different form so she wouldn’t have to be faced with the physique of Mal she most likely knew best, tells me something about how Regina views that relationship.
She wanted to hide it, lock it away, make it unrecognizable and never think of it again. But at the same time, she didn’t want to let it go. She took it with her, just like she did Daniel. Who was in her vault, another underground dwelling.
I think there’s a good chance that Regina loved Mal, but was ashamed of it. There was definitely emotion involved even if it wasn’t love. Maybe adoration?
I have said this before, but I truly believe Regina has been aware of her sexuality for quite sometime, most likely because of Mal, but that it was fine as long as she could exploit it. Use it to her advantage. Use it against others by recognizing others’ sexuality. She was the Evil Queen and she did whatever and maybe whoever she wanted. And that was fine because she was using everyone and everything and made sure her feelings didn’t get involved so it didn’t matter. Her actions didn’t matter. They were all a means to an end. A little slice of her own happiness. A little bit of peace.
But I think Mal was different. She practically came before. And I think she was the one person that couldn’t make Regina believe the lies she told herself. That she didn’t care. The one person she couldn’t stay impartial to. And so she treated her the worst. Ending in locking her away. Mal can be very reliable, but we’ve seen Regina screw her over. Didn’t she threaten to kill Mal’s treasured unicorn? Again, with the gay symbol.
Then there is this
Unicorn Colloquial; Synonym for hot bi babe or HBB, often derogatory, condescending, or ironic. A bisexual person, usually though not always female, who is willing to join an existing couple, often with the presumption that this person will date and become sexually involved with both members of that couple, and not demand anything or do anything which might cause problems or inconvenience to that couple.
The term is often used to be dismissive of a couple seen to be only superficially polyamorous. Because of the demands that this type of couple places on the woman (that she be single and not take on any additional partners, and become involved with both members of the couple equally, and often "complete" their family as a surrogate mother and housekeeper and/or breadwinner and not do anything that may threaten or disrupt the existing couple), many in the poly community call this type of woman a "unicorn", as in mythical and not likely to be found, even though there are plenty of bipoly women around.
Sometimes the unicorn is expected to not develop any emotional attachment and is strictly there for a sexual relationship (equally distributed to both members of the dyad) and/or is prescripted as a secondary. This term is used as a reminder that bipoly women are people with their own desires, needs, and pre-existing lives, and not fantasy figures or pets. See related prescriptive vs. descriptive
(x)
So unicorn is not a gay symbol. I’d say this definition from urban dictionary confirms at the very least that Regina is bisexual. In case you missed another post of mine, I pointed out in that one that the first heart Regina was told by Rumple to crush was that of a unicorn. Which, I think is symbolic of her own heart, because by the end of the episode, when she doesn’t want to do it, he does it for her, by taking away any belief she has that she’ll be able to bring Daniel back.
So folks, Regina is the unicorn. Which isn’t surprising since a lot of probably all thought this even before we knew this definition of it. I mean, she’s amazing, seems to be the only of her kind or at least very rare and all that.
And if Regina is the unicorn and Mal refers to hers as a pet than that could be the reason Regina doesn’t trust blondes. There is also a reference to Snow’s wedding night in that scene that is apparently going on at that same moment. So it could be Regina was invested in her and Mal’s relationship at first, but that Mal saw her as a distraction of sorts. Saw it as a game. But it also means that in her own way Mal loved Regina. (Hell, she protected the unicorn from Regina killing it. Regina literally ended up using Mal’s love for her against her.) Just not in the way Regina maybe wished.
Then there’s the fact that Snowing touched both a unicorn and a tree in order to figure out that Emma would be/is gay had a darkness within her that they’d best not want her to have. Both symbols that I now link to Regina.
So I think Regina’s aware of her sexuality, but I don’t think she accepts it, just like she doesn’t accept the Evil Queen part of her. On the contrary, she loathes it. And would much rather hide it away, banish or kill it if she could.
The other things that are also central to the story, because of their presence below the library are the diamond fail safe and, true love’s kiss. The most iconic symbol of it also had its place below the library. Snow’s glass coffin. Anyone who looks at it will recognize it as such and think about the iconic moment that gave it its popularity. True Love’s kiss, the kiss that can restore life. Wake someone up from a nightmare.
Opposite it is the diamond, it’s the one thing that can put an abrupt end to the story, that can undo what has been done, wipe Storybrooke off the map in a violent way.
Both are symbols of things that lead to endings, but one leads to an ending one would want while the other...doesn’t.
*Bonus:
There is also another “basement” that took an elevator to get to. The one in the Underworld. Emma and Hook went there to get the fruit that would allow him to return with Emma. The whole “true love test” happened there. So the question is, what is the mystery here? What is the secret?
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Part 13 Alignment May Vary: Combat and Character Hooks
Welcome to another Journey Log! This week takes my three players through an intense combat as they wrap up some loose ends. It is the climax of the first act of Tomb of Haggemoth, after which they will truly strike out across the Moon Sea to follow the Oracle’s cryptic instructions. In this post, I’ll be focusing on how to build effective encounters in D&D 5th Edition and also the importance of using character hooks in your game. But fist, some catch up with the story...
Return to Ottoman’s Dock
The Butcher of Skago now considers the players to be his “investment,” and he intends to ensure that they make good on their promise to bring him the treasure of Haggemoth. So he decides to sail alongside their ship, while his sniper (Haymish) sails onboard the Mankey Bastard with the players.
The journey to Ottoman’s dock has one event: Abenthy has not been feeling well ever since leaving the LaCroix mansion and now the players discover why. The key they picked up from the Ooze house was actually the last piece of the Ooze and has been hiding on board their ship disguised as Abenthy’s belt. From there, it has been slowly draining him of his life! The group works out what has been happening and destroys the Ooze, once and for all, completing a sidequest and ending a possible plotline if the ooze had made ity back to civilization...
At Ottoman’s dock, the players discover that Marcus, the priest they had left to deal with Rose the Slaver, has been murdered. They are presented with a plan for revenge by Lisa, one of the slave girls they freed last time who was living with Marcus. She tells them to either help her burn Rose’s establishment to the ground, or enter by stealth and try and find evidence of Rose’s wrongdoing to present to the mayor of Ottoman’s dock.
The group vacillates over what to do. Twyin and the half-orc Rhazel are in favor of the burning—it’s simpler and, to Twyin’s mind, cleaner. But Karrina thinks it is riskier and when Abenthy realizes burning will mean the death of the innocent slaves who are still working the establishment he refuses to go along with that plan. Majority rules, and they move in via stealth, through the basement passage they found last time.
This doesn’t go quite as planned. Rose is transporting a special “guest” this evening, and so has the basement under guard by Ratzotto pirates. The players try to dispatch them quietly, but let one get away. He instantly runs upstairs to warn Rose. Worse, they try to take the special guest, a young girl, with them. This goes incredibly bad when the girl suddenly turns on them (Rose’s mind controlling orders) and attacks them with the power of her mind, killing Rahzel (their half orc, colorblind mercenary) in the ensuing fight. During this, Rose arrives with reinforcements and a massive fight breaks out that nearly kills Twyin (he becomes the target of Rose’s imp, who takes spider form and continually bites him, while Rose holds Twyin still with her spells). This battle also presents a problem for Abenthy: Rose sends her enslaved bodyguards at him. He knows these are innocents under mind control, so he tries to hold back and knock them out, but thanks to a couple HUGE damage rolls, he accidentally kills one of them, cracking his skull open like an egg. Falling to his knees in the midst of combat, Abenthy begins to pray for his salvation while the others desperately try to fight off Rose (for two whole rounds he prays, an excellent bit of roleplaying)!
In the end the players persevere and force Rose to flee in the form of a dark green magical mist (she quaffed a potion of mist form). Where she departs to is unknown to the players. In fact, she makes her escape to a ship that is waiting for her and from there across the sea to answer to her master, a person far more devious than she. How that goes you may discover in a future blog.
Defeating Rose breaks the spell on the psychic girl, a mysterious young human named Jade, who has come looking for her brother, Targaryen. Remember him?
This unexpected revelation gets more complicated when the players head back out onto the open seas, searching for the ice land that the oracle hinted at. Halfway there, they are attacked by Ratzotto pirates, and they seem to have a new leader—Targaryen himself, revived from the dead or saved from its brink, commands the pirates from the bow of the ghostly Red Hand ship Karrina helped sink over a month ago. Holding the Jade Figurine Karina recovered from the watery temple aloft, he seems to use it to gain control over some monstrosity of the deep, a tentacled horror that tears apart the Butcher of Skago’s ship while the players fight off an attack of pirates.
The battle ends with Haymish gripping the rails of the Mankey Bastard, watching his master’s ship sink below the waves as the players make their escape from this frightening new Targaryen.
Lesson: Building Encounters in Fifth Edition
Despite its dual emphasis on story and gameplay, D&D has never truly left behind its roots as a one-shot tactical battle game. Which is great, when you play out a battle and then go home at the end of the day with a winner and a loser, back to do it next time y’all meet up. But when you mix character and story into that mix... well then things get a little complicated, don’t they? There are times you don’t WANT your party to die, because it would wreak havoc on your story. Yet, if every battle is a guaranteed win, then your game suffers, because there is no more risk.
I struggled with this for years as a GM, until one day I came to a very simple conclusion: it is okay to let your players die. In literally any situation, it is okay, because you can’t predict what those players are going to do. This is a roleplaying game, which means if your players are doing it right, they are following an internal narrative you won’t always have access to. That narrative may dictate they run head first into certain doom (”Barbarian smash!”), or that they do not take an opening to escape when they have the chance (”My creed is that I will never flee from justice!”), or they bring the proverbial knife to a gunfight (”Die fire elemental! Fear my fireball!”), or they provoke the Brass Dragon into eating them alive (”Damn, but you are hideously ugly!”). Your job isn’t to hand hold the players, improvising ways for them to survive against all odds. Leave that to the natural 20s they roll!
However, it is your job to roleplay the monsters as well as they play their characters. Do that, and you will find that instead of your story coming to a dead halt when you unexpectedly get a total party kill, it will feel like a part of the story. When your monsters act like monsters instead of figurines with the knowledge of the Dungeon Master, it won’t feel unfair if your players fall to them. This also lets you change the difficulty of encounters on the fly.
In the pirate battle in our session, for instance, Abenthy leapt immediately onto the pirate ship and taunted all of them. They chose for many rounds after this to focus their attacks on him, even after he retreated—which worked in the party’s favor because Abenthy is a tank who is hard to hit and can soak up damage even when he is. The players took further advantage of this and used clever positioning to keep Abenthy in front while Karrina gave rear support as an archer and Twyin came in from the side, doing devastating damage with his multiple attacks.
The pirates lost that battle, badly, but things could have gone differently. What if I had rolled well enough to take Abenthy down and suddenly the remaining players were faced with overwhelming odds? If I felt the battle was no longer fun, I could have used in world explanations to slightly make things easier—given courage by their success, perhaps the pirates split up and start rushing heedlessly into battle, spreading out where their sneak attack damage isn’t as useful.
In fact, I did use tactics to make things harder: once Twyin started taking down a pirate each turn, they started focusing their attacks on him, which did make things more tense. By doing this, I was able to break away from pure statistics and use changing tactics to keep our battle balanced throughout the fight.
To go along with this, here is some mechanical advice I have found in the last two years of tinkering with the D&D 5 system:
Go harder than you think: The Unearthed Arcana encounter builder does a much better job of giving appropriate challenges than does the complicated CR calculator that the DMG provides. That said, any kind of guideline someone publishes is based on average characters. It can’t take into account a player who rolled above average stats, or who selected powerful feats, or who took the best options their class has to offer, or is playing perfectly in synch with the rest of their party. It also can’t take into account items, magical weapons, and improved armor. Thus, I find that players tend to outperform these charts. It has often happened that combats I thought, on building them the day before a session, are far too deadly for the players to take on end up dealing no damage to them at game time.
So, don’t be afraid to make combats hard! If the fight comes about and it is truly brutal, you can always use the above mentioned “change of tactics” mid fight to tone things down. Don’t underestimate the tendency of your villains to stop and give mighty speeches on their turns instead of attacking, when they realize they are wiping the floor with the players. After all, what villain can resist a good taunting of fate? In all seriousness, though, it is easier (and more acceptable to players) to describe how some of the goblin horde they are fighting back off because things got too hard (”a hush suddenly falls over the goblins as their champion comes forward, chuckling darkly that he will take down these fools himself”) then it is to scramble to roll up reinforcements when the players are making what you wanted to be an epic fight too easy.
Oh, by the way... if they do make the epic fight too easy, don’t try to “fix it” and take that victory away. Just make a mental note that future fights will probably need to be tougher because you underestimated your players, and prepare the next session accordingly.
Action economy is king: I say it, designers say it, players say it, and it is worth saying again—in D&D it is the character who gets to strike the most who will win the most. Not all bonuses are built equal. High health points don’t matter much when a team of players can easily dish out 60 damage a turn. The damage your monsters can deal doesn’t matter much when the players can heal it all in a single cure wound spell. And the players will eventually get these powers, if they don’t have them already. But what never stops being powerful is when one of your monsters gets six attacks per turn. Do you want TPKs? Because that’s how you get TPKs.
D&D 5 does a great job of making it harder for players to get seven attacks a turn (in Pathfinder, this tendency led to many monsters having ridiculous resistances and ACs just to stay alive) and instead gives such powers to the monsters. I’ve talked in the past about how doing this effectively brings back the “boss monster,” meaning that a single higher CR monsters can take the place of what in older versions would have been a horde of high CR monsters. I like this a lot, as I think it lets individual monsters have more personality. Some DMs dislike it, because it gets harder to build hordes with higher level monsters. And that is fair, because it does get much harder.
And so, that is my advice—as you start to look at higher level monsters, just keep in mind that their multi-attack ability, if paired with high damage, can wipe a party in the first round of combat. As your monsters get more attacks, things are going to start scaling upwards in difficulty exponentially. So pay attention to these monsters when horde building.
Similarly, remember that your players have access to extra attacks and will get exponentially tougher as they get them. If you have a party with a lot of fighters or other classes that grant extra attacks, you may need to adjust your difficulty higher.
Magic is a wild card: Somewhere on Reddit I read a great thread about all the ways a CR 5 enchanter could kill a party of higher level adventures without ever entering combat. Once you start getting into enemies with spells, you can really start messing with your game’s difficulty. On its basest level, magic in combat can buff your monsters, debuff the players, or deal damage. But think outside of the box, and the possibilities become far more interesting—and deadly!
Picture the mage who follows after the players, taking on their appearance using disguise self, and visibly killing guards in every city they are to visit, so that when they arrive, they are immediately targeted by the King’s best men.
What about the divination mage, who scries out the seas the players are sailing on, and uses her powers to summon a storm the likes of which hasn’t been seen on those seas in ages?
There is the warlock who plants an item in the bag of holding the players carry with them, an item stolen from a powerful demon, a demon which will kill anyone who it thinks has the item... there is the illusionist who makes it look like the bridge across the chasm of doom didn’t collapse last week... there is the crazed evoker who has placed a rune of blasting on every door in his tower, and who has rigged the entrance to be one way only, emptying players out onto the elemental plane of fire when they try to leave...
Some of these possibilities go far beyond simply rolling a dodge in combat and using your massive reflex score to avoid damage. Magic is unpredictable. Because of this, there is really no good way to give a CR rating to a magician based purely on what magic they have. More important is to think about how they will use that magic in your game. A magic who is going to stand in one place casting fireball... well, you can easily factor in their added damage per round to their CR using the DMG and figure out their difficulty rating is. But far more deadly may be the mage that the players don’t even know is targeting them...
Lesson: When to Use Character Hooks
Short answer: whenever possible.
Anyone who has ever been a player in D&D knows that there are two characters you build when you make a new character. The first is one of stats and numbers, a list of abilities. The second is a story, a reason to journey, a purpose, a personality. The first is easy to bring into play—any time there is combat, or an obstacle requiring a roll, you get to use this character. When you level, you directly affect it, adding to stats and gaining new abilities. The second is harder. It doesn’t level up at specific milestones, or gain experience from killing monsters. There aren’t monsters that are weak to it, or campaigns pre-built to favor it. The first character will never go away. It will always be there on paper, easy to access and analyze until it falls beneath the axe of some crazed Drow. The second character, if not tended to, often is dead long before the axe falls, forgotten after a session or two of not being used.
This second character, the story of a character, is often what has separated memorable games from forgettable ones in my player experience. When I build a character, I am building a set of hooks and suggestions on the kind of story I want to play out. If I say I am a gunslinger searching for his father, then I am telling you (a) that the easiest way to get me to go anywhere in your game is to drop a hint about my dad, and (b) that I’m hoping this search will be a part of the game. Maybe not a huge part, but at least get enough of a focus that I will feel like I’m really playing a man on the hunt for family. Because obviously I have some interest in that, if this is the story I’ve come up with. Here’s an example...
I remember one game I played where I built a thief (Xaviee) whose village had been burned down by werewolves. One of the werewolves Xaviee remembered, because the beast had bitten his mother and turned her into a werewolf. It was a simple back story I just came up with for fun, in the hopes that if we ever ran into werewolves or any supernatural creature, I could roleplay treating them with extreme prejudice, maybe even attacking them on sight. I figured, too, that my mother might be used sometime as a hook—for instance, if the GM needed us to go to Phandalin, maybe a werewolf attack would be reported in the area. My player would easily agree to go, just on the off chance that the attack involved his now lupine mother.
With all this, I was pleasantly surprised to learn the GM had actually selected a werewolf campaign for us to play. Good fortune! Except in twelve sessions of the campaign, my mother was never mentioned. I mean, we FOUGHT werewolves. We came across tribes of them. At first, I just waited for the GM to throw some hint in, like “that werewolf over there, you recognize from the attack!” As time went on without any of this, I started asking for it: “Xaviee asks the tribe leader if he recognizes the name of his village or of his mother...” without hesitation the DM would say, “nope.”
We had fun at the table. It was a good game. But by the time it was over, I had stopped caring about Xaviee’s werewolf mother and, in doing so, stopped caring about him, too. When he eventually was killed by a quagmire troglodyte, I rolled up a dwarf who hated elves and liked getting drunk a lot. The DM seemed much more comfortable working this into the game.
This is why I like to work in as many of the hooks my players have given me as possible. I will add new scenes to bring their bonds into the campaign. I will replace blah NPCs with people from my players’ history. And I can’t think of a reason NOT to do this. It doesn’t take much time, and the sense of involvement it will bring your players is incredible. Otherwise, you really might as well just be playing a tactical battle game with their stats.
Stats are fun to play around with. They are what make your character feel powerful. But story is what makes your character feel alive.
And now, some news. This post will mark the end of the adventure blog... for a while. The game continues, but I am currently trying to design and publish the Ooze adventure for DriveThru RPG and I want to devote my attentions to that in the free time I have for writing. When I complete it, I may well return to the blog—either weekly again, or as a once in a while thing, if I think a session has some particularly good lessons in it for GMs. Until then, happy gaming!
#playthrough#dnd 5e#Tomb of haggemoth#epic#Dungeons and Dragons#Journey Log#Wizards of the Coast#fantasy#RPG
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