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whiskey-tango-matcha · 11 days

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Then & Now (M, cold)

Hiii, hope you like A LOT of hurt followed by 2-3 sentences of comfort lmao. This is Greyson fic - Grey is sick on a day he and Reed are supposed to have a date, and he's sure Reed is going to be angry with him because Trauma(TM). It's told in a flashback sort of format which I really enjoyed because I love writing blurbs of colds at different times in life lol. I hope you guys like it, please let me know what ya think, good, bad, or otherwise :)

CW: Male snz, cold, pneumonia mention, coughing, contagion mention, lots and lots of whump lmao. A little over 4K words under the cut.

Then & Now

Now

“Morning, Chef.”

“Huh-! HhITSZHH-ue!”

Elijah turned towards Greyson, who was doubled over into his hoodie sleeve, and gave him a sympathetic grimace. “Cooks finally pulled you under, hmm?”

“Ugh, like way fuckin’ under,” Greyson muttered, rubbing his eye and sucking in through his nose. “I feel like ass.”

“Sorry, dude,” Elijah said, tossing his counterpart a box of tissues. “Sucks.”

Greyson caught the box and pulled out a few just in time. “HITSZHZH-uhh!” This one, he managed to catch in the handful of tissues. He wiped his nose and shrugged. “Yeah,” he said, tossing the used tissues. “Mbostly because I was supposed to have a date tonight.”

Elijah smirked at his friend, who was pushing past the GM into their shared office. The two of them sat in unison. “Do you guys still call them dates? You’ve been official for, like, six months.”

“It’s our six-month anniversary,” Greyson said, his voice flattened by congestion. “We were going to do EMP.”

“Awww, now I’m depressed,” Elijah said. “Also, why didn’t you tell me earlier you were going to Eleven Madison? I still know people there.”

“So does Reed,” Greyson said, massaging his temple. “That’s why we were goigg. Fuck, mby fuckin’ head is pounding. Do we have any -?”

Elijah placed the ibuprofen in front of the chef before he could ask, along with a bottle of cough syrup and a decongestant. “You know we have it all,” he said, pushing an old cup of water across the desk for Greyson to swallow his arsenal of pills. “And fair enough. Well that fuckin’ sucks, dude, I’m sorry. Hey, at least you can leave early, right? Matt’s closing?”

“Yeah,” Greyson said, unwrapping a cough drop and popping it in his mouth. “I’ll head out once the rush is over. I still have to text Reee – hh...hhNTSHH-ue! HGTSHH-uhh!” Greyson doubled over, sneezed into his arm, and groaned. “I’mb gonna kill the guys when they get in,” he said, mostly to himself.

“Don’t do that,” Elijah said, placing a hand on Greyson’s shoulder on his way out of the office. “Then you’ll have to stay all night.”

Greyson huffed out a laugh and pulled out his phone. He clicked on his conversation with Reed, sighing. He did not want to have this conversation.

Greyson

9:31AM

hey babe. gonna have to cancel tonight, the cooks infected me w their plague :( im rly sorry.

The chef set his phone on the desk, prepared to either be ghosted or gaslit – two of Collin’s favorite pastimes whenever Greyson had had to cancel their plans during their relationship – and was shocked when the phone buzzed with a text almost immediately. He was almost afraid to look at his boyfriend’s response.

Reed

9:32AM

Oh, baby don’t be sorry!! what time are you off? I’ll pick you up and take you home :) we can do a sick day little date night instead!

Greyson stared at the phone, stunned. He couldn’t help it; he read the message again, then out loud said, “What the fuck?”

Then – Ten Years Ago

“Chef?”

The Executive Chef looked up from his paperwork at Greyson and sighed. “What is it, Abbott?”

“I, um – hh! HTSHH-uh! HGXTSH-ue! Snf. Umb, I just wanted to see if it was okay if I… left a little early today?” Greyson asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His chef raised his eyebrows and put his clipboard down. Oh, no, Greyson thought.

“Leave...early? And leave your clean up and prep to whom, exactly? Me?” The Executive Chef huffed out a laugh. “That’s rich, Abbott. Why the fuck would you need to leave early?”

“I…” Greyson started, but his voice gave out on the single syllable. He attempted to clear his throat. “I just… I really feel like shit? I was hoping I could, like… sleep it off, I guess. I mbean, I wouldn’t want to get anyone else sigck.” Greyson felt a cough bubbling to the surface; he tried to quell it, to no avail. The younger man collapsed into a coughing fit that felt like it lasted a lifetime.

The Chef remained unmoved. “My guys,” he said, placing a hand on his chest as Greyson attempted to compose himself, “don’t get sick, Abbott. And if they do, I don’t fucking hear about it. Understand? Because I really don’t give a shit. If you’re here, you’re here. If you decide to leave early,” he shrugged, uncaring, “then you leave for good. And Abbott, if you try to get a job after walking out of my kitchen, I promise you I will make it impossible. I know you’ve only been here a couple months, but here’s what you need to learn: put your head down and do your fucking job, and you can work anywhere in the world after this. Be a whiny piece of shit who tries to walk out on his shift, and you’ll be working at McDonald’s for the rest of you life. Got it?”

Greyson, too shocked to rebut, just bobbed his head up and down.

“Let me hear you say it,” the Chef said. Greyson cleared his throat.

“Yes, Chef,” he said. The Chef nodded.

“Now get the fuck out of my office.”

Now

“Elijah. Look at this text.”

The GM looked up slowly from the iPad where he was going over reservations for the evening. “...Why?” he asked, taking the phone from Greyson’s hand.

“Just look. Tell mbe that’s ndot weird,” Greyson said, crossing his arms over his chest. Elijah looked down, confused, and read the text. He pinched his eyebrows together just a little, and read it again. “See? Isn’t that weird?”

“Greyson…” Elijah said, handing the phone back. “That’s not weird.”

“Seriously?” Greyson asked, reading the text yet again. “It’s bizarre. He’s ndot even a little mad? C’mon. That’s weird.”

“He’s being sweet,” Elijah explained, slowly, as though he were talking to a toddler. “Did you want him to be mad? Because that’s bizarre.”

“Ndo I don’t want him to be mad. I jus – HTSZHH-ue! HRRSHH!” Greyson wrenched to the side to sneeze, which sent him into a fit of hacking coughs. “I just figured he’d want to, like, yell at mbe or something. For canceling,” Greyson finished, his voice strained against another cough. Elijah didn’t respond, not at first, and instead pressed a hand onto the chef’s forehead.

“I think you’re sicker than we thought, because you’re acting fucking delusional,” he said as Greyson slapped his hand away. “Greyson, normal people don’t yell at each other for getting sick, or having to cancel a plan. That’s, like, really twisted.”

Greyson rolled his eyes. “It’s ndot twisted, Lij you fuckin’ drama queen,” he said, then held up a finger. “Onesec – hh! Hh...hnn.” Greyson sniffled, a let out a little irritated cough. “Lost it.”

“Go back to the kitchen,” Elijah said, pointing towards the swinging doors. “Sit down. Rest. Let your medicine kick in. I don’t want people seeing this -” he gestured to Greyson, as if to allude to his entire being – “when they walk past the restaurant. Alright? Text your boyfriend something nice. Not something unhinged.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Greyson muttered, turning toward the kitchen, his phone still open to the conversation with Reed. He turned towards Elijah again before pushing through the kitchen doors. “I still say that this is the unhinged thing.”

“Go to therapy, Greyson,” Elijah said, not looking up from the iPad. Greyson rolled his eyes, pushed into the kitchen, and regarded his phone once again.

Greyson

10:07AM

thanks, babe. it’s ok, I can take care of myself. it wont be a long day, ill just grab some nyquil omw home and sleep it off. ill reschedule our rezo too, don’t worry about that. im really sorry again for canceling. if I could taste the food id still go lol.

Figuring that sounded at least relatively normal, Greyson hit send. He sat down at his desk once again and placed his head in his hands. No way he’s not pissed, Greyson thought, and he really believed it. In all his years of dating, he’d never met anyone who would respond that way; they’d at least have a snippy remark about the last-minute nature of the cancellation.

Greyson’s phone pinged once again, and he couldn’t help but grab it right away to assess the damage.

Reed

10:08AM

honey, please don’t apologize, seriously. youre sick, it happens, its no biggie :) I already moved the reservation to next week but if we need to ill move it again. james at emp said to tell you feel better btw.

Greyson blinked, dumbstruck. He started typing without thinking.

Greyson

10:10AM

you REALLY arent mad? seriously?

Reed

10:10AM

im really not mad. who gets mad at someone for being sick…? is someone at work mad at you? am I supposed to be mad..? lol

Greyson

10:11AM

I mean its a last minute cancellation. id understand if u were mad.

Reed

10:11AM

welllll….im not. is that ok? haha

Reed

10:15AM

grey…? you believe me, right?

Reed

10:21AM

greyson..?

Then – Seven Years Ago

He was moving through molasses.

Greyson placed a sluggish hand to his own forehead – you can’t check yourself for a fever, dumbass – and blinked painfully. He’d made it to work, he’d made it through the day, and he’d made it back home, against all odds. Now, he was stuck on his couch, unable to even crawl to the bathroom for a thermometer.

It had all compounded on him, was his guess. The endless fourteen hour days for the better part of two years at his thankless sous chef job. The shitty Chicago-suburbs apartment with no heat, where he froze for the few hours a week he slept. The near-constant drinking. Sure, he was only twenty-five, but what was it they said about this industry? It ages you in dog years. Yeah, that was it.

“Hh-! Hh...ITSZHH-ue! HTSHHH-ue!” Greyson sneezed helplessly into the blanket he’d wrapped around himself, and groaned. This was not what he’d imagined when he moved here from Minnesota. He’d thought it would be glamorous, working as a sous chef at a high-end hotel in a big city. He thought he’d have friends, or a girlfriend, or something. Instead, he was trapped on his couch, benched by a sinus infection and seasonal depression that seemed to last the whole year round. Fuck this, Greyson thought. He couldn’t get off the couch, but he could reach his phone; Greyson pulled up Indeed and changed his search parameters.

Actively searching for work. Location: Any.

Now

“Um… Chef? What’s, uh… what’s going on?”

Greyson paused for a moment, a crate of spoiled food held on his shoulder. He turned towards Matt, keen to answer, but instead held the crate tighter and wrenched to the side. “HRTTSHH-uh!”

“Bless you,” Matt said, an automatic reaction. Greyson nodded, turned towards the dumpster, and dumped the food in before beginning the cycle anew: pick up crate. Turn to sneeze. Dump old food. Matt wasn’t sure if he should help his boss, or go inside for backup.

He chose the former, picking a crate filled to the brim with rotten tomatoes off the ground and hoisting it into the trash. “You gonna tell me what’s up?” he asked as the two of them continued gathering and tossing.

Greyson sighed, pulled a hand down his face, and shook his head. “I thingk Reed and I are over,” he said, voice soft and throaty. Matt’s eyebrows shot up.

“What? Seriously? What did you do?” Matt asked, prompting a stuffy laugh from his boss.

“I just don’t thingk it’s going to work,” Greyson said, shrugging. “I… I don’t want to, like, play gambes. I can’t do that again, ndot after Collin.”

“Chef,” Matt said as he gathered and tossed the last milk crate, “what are you talking about? Reed is, like, the most straight-shooting guy I’ve ever met. How is he playing games?”

Greyson, left without anything to occupy his hands, just shrugged and pulled out his phone. He handed it to Matt without explanation, and the sous quickly read through the text conversation Greyson and Reed had going. Matt furrowed his brow.

“I don’t get it,” he said, handing the phone back. ��He wants to take care of you, what’s the problem with that?”

“He doesn’t want to take care of me, he wants to have the upper hand,” Greyson explained, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and sitting on the step just outside the back door. “Want one?”

“Sure,” Matt said, sitting beside his boss. “I mean, you shouldn’t be smoking if you’re -”

“HTSHH! Hh-! ITZSHH-ue!” Greyson turned into his elbow, taking a long moment to gather himself before handing Matt his cigarette.

“-sick,” Matt finished. The older man shrugged, and Matt plucked the lighter out of Greyson’s hand to light both of them up, not daring to push his boss any closer to the edge. For a moment, they smoked in silence, only Greyson’s sniffles and coughs interrupting the quiet.

“Boss,” Matt said, finally, “I think you need to talk to Reed.”

“I did,” Greyson said, stubbing out his cigarette. “You saw.”

“No, I mean actually talk to him,” Matt said. The two of them stood, looking at each other – a face-off without the malice. Matt continued. “Not ignore his texts and clean out the walk-in.”

Greyson scoffed. “Matt, just because you have sombe fairy-tale love story doesn’t mbean everyone else does, too. Okay? If it’s over between me and Reed, it’s fine. I’mb better off alone, anywaa – hh! Hh… Hhhii-!” Greyson stood with his elbow poised at his face, stuck in pre-sneeze agony for what seemed like an eternity. While he was incapacitated, Matt took his phone and typed out a message that his boss couldn’t see. Finally, Greyson lowered his arm and sucked in, fruitlessly, through his nose. “The fugck are you doigg?” he asked, snatching his phone back from his sous.

“If you’re not going to talk to Reed,” Matt shrugged, unapologetic, “I will.”

Greyson looked down at his phone, which buzzed twice in his hand. Reed’s face popped up on the screen. Call from: reed <3

Then – Three Years Ago

“HTSHH! Huh! ETZSHH-ue! HRTTSHH-ue!”

“Bless, bless, bless you. Allergies?” Collin asked, not looking up from his phone. Greyson sniffled in vain, and coughed painfully.

“Ndot exactly,” he croaked from the doorway to Collin’s living room. “Baby, do you thingk you could drive mbe to urdent care, actually?”

Collin looked up and slowly raised an eyebrow. “For what?” he asked, obviously annoyed. Greyson swallowed as best he could and placed a hand on his throat.

“I thingk… I mbight have strep. Or bronchitis, or sombething. I, uh… I’ve had a fever for like. A week.” Greyson had to stop to close his eyes and grab onto the door frame, a sordid attempt to keep from hitting the floor like a rotten sack of potatoes. Collin rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a drama queen. You seemed fine when you came over last night.”

“You were asleep whend I came over,” Greyson said, his eyes still closed. “Did you ndot notice that I haven’t been over in like five days?”

Collin shrugged. “I mean, yeah, but I figured you were busy with work. You’re always busy with work,” he said, the venom in his voice making clear that he wanted to fight.

Greyson, physically incapable of fighting at that moment, just slid slowly to the ground and nodded. “Yeah. You’re right,” he said. “Ndow I’m paying the price. Please, baby. Can you please just take me? I… I really don’t feel well.”

It was pathetic. He knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself; he was fairly sure he was moments from passing out. Collin turned and made himself comfier on the couch.

“I’ll call you an uber,” he said, pressing some buttons on his phone. “You barely make time for me, and now you’re asking me to be your chauffeur? Please, Greyson.” He showed his ailing boyfriend the phone. “He’ll be out front in five minutes. Better make your way down.”

“Okay,” Greyson said, pulling himself slowly to his feet. “Thangk you.”

Collin didn’t say a word as Greyson let himself out of the apartment. He made it downstairs, and into the uber, and into the waiting room at urgent care. He made it out by himself, too, with a laundry list of prognoses – strep, sinus infection, walking pneumonia – and a handful of prescriptions. When he texted Collin later to fill him in, his boyfriend didn’t text back.

Greyson fell asleep on his shower floor and awoke to freezing water pounding on him, and a courier pounding on his door. When he toweled off and answered it, chicken soup from the local bodega and a note that read feel better -c sat at his feet. Greyson breathed a sigh of relief; at least he had been forgiven.

Now

Reed had dated plenty of men is his thirty-five years of life, and had found that there were two general categories when it came to sick men: there was the Baby, and there was the Don’t Look at Me.

Greyson though, an enigma since the moment they met, seemed to fall into a third category, a category that was, to Reed, yet undiscovered: the You Hate Me.

Reed was good with the first two categories; the Don’t Look at Me, you left medicine outside their room and texted them funny memes. The Baby, you laid in bed with them and spoon-fed them soup. Easy. Understandable. Truthfully, this was one of his favorite things about men: they were easy to crack. He figured Greyson would likely fall into the Baby category, which was fine by him – there was nothing he’d like more than to look after an ailing Greyson, to be honest. This third category he seemed to embody, though, was not something Reed knew what to do with.

“He didn’t answer when I called him,” Reed said into the phone receiver. “I just want to know what’s going on, I mean, did I say something wrong?”

On the other end of the line, Elijah sighed. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. This is just… it’s just Greyson being Greyson.”

Reed wasn’t about to take this lying down. “Hey, are you guys super busy tonight? I mean, I don’t want to be that boyfriend, but, like, can I come get him? We really need to talk, and if what Matt said is true he probably shouldn’t be, like, working anyway, right?”

While Elijah paused, Reed pulled the phone away from his ear and once again re-read the text Matt had sent from Greyson’s phone: hey reed, it’s matt. grey is sick as hell, so DO NOT take any of the crazy weird shit he says seriously, k? his temperature needs to lower by like 5 degrees before you do this, but u guys need to actually talk. he’s being stupid.

“Please,” Reed heard Elijah’s tinny voice on the other end and put the phone back to his ear. “Please, come and collect him. I’m begging.”

Reed stood from the couch and grabbed his keys. “Give me twenty minutes. I’m on my way.”

Then – Two Years Ago

“Heyyy, baby, cand I buy you a dringk?”

The girl leaned back, her face marked by disgust. “No, thanks. Save your money and get yourself some NyQuil,” she said, disappearing into the crowd. Greyson huffed out a sigh and coughed into his hand – a long, crackling sound that made the other bar patrons inch their chairs away.

“She’s right, you know,” the bartender – Skip, Greyson had learned his name was a few weeks back when he had started coming in every night – said, filling Greyson’s shot glass yet again. “You need to go home.”

“And yet you pour mbe another drink,” Greyson said, knocking back the shot. “The duality of mban. NGTXSH! HTSHH! Huh-! HRRSHH-ue!” Greyson covered his mouth lazily with one hand, wiped it on his pants, hand held the glass up to indicate ‘another’.

“Bless you,” Skip said, not pouring the shot. “Greyson, seriously: go home. You sound fucking awful.”

“Are you cutting mbe off?” Greyson asked, his rheumy eyes meeting Skip’s over the bartop. “Because unless you are, I’mb staying.” He coughed again, into his elbow; the cough was quickly becoming a problem. He’d had a cold two weeks ago; the symptoms had been mild, but the cough had hung around. When he caught whatever-the-fuck this was two days ago, the cough had turned from an annoyance to a pressing issue; he should go home. He should go to the doctor, he should take a day off, he should, he should, he should.

But he wouldn’t. He would stay, and he would drink until he was kicked out, then he’d pass out on the train and not make it home to sleep. He’d go to work at seven AM and stay until midnight and do it all again.

“I’m not kicking you out,” Skip sighed. “I’m just saying… you should take care of yourself.”

Greyson blinked slowly. He could feel his lungs, heavy with fluid, gearing up to cough again; his head, pounding in spite or because of the alcohol; his heart crushed into a million, Collin-sized pieces. Take care of yourself. It felt impossible, when you’d never been shown how.

“This is mbe taking care of myself,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll have another.”

Now

Greyson rested his head on a case of lettuce in the corner of the walk-in. He knew he should be continuing his madness of cleaning, but he’d accidentally sat down on his fifth trip into the refrigerator, and now he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get up again.

Fucking Reed, Greyson thought as he allowed the cold salad box to sate the fever he had burning in his brain. Why can’t he just be up front with me? If you’re mad just say it, don’t fucking torture me.

Perhaps deep down, he knew he was being ridiculous; Matt and Elijah were most likely correct. The simplest answer – that Reed truly was just a good guy – was probably the right one. But he just couldn’t get out of his mind all the times he’d reached out, needed help and asked for it, and been shot down. He certainly couldn’t allow himself to believe that the person he was dating was truly good; he knew he’d never deserve that.

“Greyson?”

Speaking of Reed, that sounded a lot like him – was Greyson hearing things? Had he, in his fever-addled state, conjured a hallucination of his boyfriend to have a fight with? Bizarre, Grey, he thought to himself. That’s really fucking bizarre.

“Grey? Elijah said you were in here but I don’t – oh!”

Either this was a really crazy hallucination, or that really was Reed standing over him, in the walk-in. Greyson blinked hard, then blinked again, and suddenly Reed was on the ground next to him.

“Babe...it’s really cold in here. Do you think we can, um, leave?”

Greyson furrowed his eyebrows together. “Leave… and go where?” he asked, his voice cracking. “I have to… work. What are you doigg heeee...HRTSHH-ue! Huh -! HTSHH! NTSHH! IGXTSH!” Greyson attempted to stifle over and over, until Reed gently took his hand and pulled it away from his face.

“That has to hurt,” Reed said, his voice quiet and calm. “You can just… sneeze, you know. Like, regular.”

“Tryigg ndot to get you,” Greyson croaked, his eyes glazing over once again. “Youbettermov – HRRETSZCHH-ue! ITSZZHH-ue! Fuck – NGTSHHZ-ue!” Greyson sneezed into his lap, then coughed until his lungs felt sore. Reed didn’t move; he came closer and rubbed Greyson’s back.

“Bless you, baby,” Reed said, eventually.

“Thangks. Sorry,” Greyson murmured, pushing his hair out of his face and turning to look at Reed. “Why are you here?” he asked, levity out the window.

Reed let out a little laugh. “Umm, why do you think?” he asked. “You’ve been ignoring me since this morning. I got worried, since Matt said you were super sick – no lie detected, by the way, you sound truly awful –”

“Sorry,” Greyson said again, wiping under his nose. “I kndow, it’s gross.”

“Please, Grey,” Reed said, taking both sides of his boyfriend’s face in his hands and looking him in the eye. “Please. Stop apologizing. It’s okay to be sick. I don’t understand why you think I’m angry at you. I’m not.”

Greyson swallowed, painfully, and gave a little nod. “Okay,” he said, finally.

“Okay,” Reed repeated. “Anyway. I called Elijah. He said to come and collect you.”

At this, Greyson couldn’t help but cough out a laugh. “Collect mbe?” he asked. Reed smiled a little.

“Yeah,” he said. “His words, not mine.”

They both laughed, softly at first, then ramping up to near-hysteria. They only stopped when Greyson started coughing again and couldn’t seem to stop.

“Let’s go get you some water,” Reed said, helping his boyfriend to his shaky feet. Greyson allowed himself to be pulled out of the walk-in, and given a bottle of water that was sitting on his prep station. Greyson drank until the fit subsided, then regarded Reed once again.

“So… you really aren’t mbad?” he asked, rubbing his goosebumped arms up and down. Reed shook his head and shrugged off his windbreaker. He draped it over Greyson’s shoulders.

“I’m really not mad,” he insisted. Greyson nodded, seemingly satiated. Reed sighed through his nose and slipped his arms around the chef.

“Life’s done a number on you, huh?” he asked, quietly enough that it could’ve just been to himself. Greyson huffed out a sad little laugh.

“Like you wouldn’t believe, baby,” he murmured, pressing his hot head into Reed’s hair. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

#whiskeyswriting #snz #sickfic #snzfic #coldfic #snzblr #snez #male cold #male snz #this was a fun one!#whump #h/c #but mostly hurt lol #i know it's a lot of dialogue. my apologies i just love to write dialogue and HATE to write exposition lol #which is Not Good Writing but whatever #this is my horn snz blog not my doctoral thesis lmao

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the-owl-house-takes · 8 months

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I COULD TALK ABOUT HOW THE SHOW LIKE COMPLETELY REFUSES TO ACKNOWLEDGE GUS EVER!!!.

i can talk about how RECENTLY, in a panel, they were asked “how would they react if Luz died?” and they gave amity, willow, HUNTER more detailed answers than GUS. they said, “gus and everyone else would be sad” or some shit.

i can talk about how they literally never talk about him, OR his v/a! and when they do its bs (above). i hope its clear that they got BOSCHA and KIKIMORAS V/As, aka two characters nobody actually gives a flying shit about (the actors are rlly nice though no shit on them), on an interview, but not gus?? really??

i can talk about how, even with the episodes being FOCUSED ON HIM, he gets overshadowed by other characters. whether purposefully or not (who am i kidding, its always on purpose lmao). like in labyrinth runners, he gets overshadowed by hunter and amity, and in through the looking glass graveyard, they put a FUCKING lumity kiss.

i can talk about how in WAD, when luz was in her dream, all of the characters had outfits that correlated to how luz “came into their life and changed it” or whatever, but gus is wearing is GROM SUIT, why? because the show IGNORES HIM THE ENTIRE FUCKING TIME, and he never gets a ‘big moment’ with luz unlike everyone else!

i can talk about how it takes until the LAST MINUTES of THE LAST EPISODE for him to get a new haircut, and the fact they couldnt even animate his hair right in the beginning anyways. not like they cared to!

i can talk about how it feels like he was literally just thrown in there for black representation, and they dont do shit anyway!!!! hes the only ‘main’ black character (excusing darius and ig willow who is blasian but. on average, nobody would really know that abt her anyway)

i can talk about how all the canon ships are poc x white, yet gustholomule, poc x poc, literally gets ignored too. like how did fucking aladarius and huntlow get a chance?? i know gm is really just an opinion (and probably always will be) but they had so much chemistry compared to the other two. cmon, the fuck? everyone else gets a partner but not him? and if hes every confirmed to be aroace, itll just be another stab in the gut. Im aroace myself, and lillith was already ENOUGH bad representation!! if he was aroace, it would literally just be one excuse to why they ignored him and his chance on having a potential partner. not to mention they completely glaze over his short lived crush on bria.

sorry the rant was so long, i could go into more depth but i wont and theres defo a lot i missed but whatever. but i guess my take really is THE CREW FUCKING SUCKS ASS AND GUS DESERVES BETTER!!!!! (also mb if anything is written weird im tired raah)

#the owl house #toh #gus porter #toh critical #long post

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transhitman · 2 years

Text

Very late on this but I did art for the Wirral segment of my fic lmfao. I'm actually really fucking pumped about how these turned out. I rendered them basically from scratch (color picked in some spots though) and it took WAY TOO LONG for what is ostensibly a joke scene. More about the characters under the cut because YES I did actually put thought into what they would play as.

Though I based the fourth portrait on Judit's, the character is actually her husband's. Judit is the GM and hosts the games at her place.

OCTAVIA KVASS -- Harry’s character of course is an OBVIOUS self-insert – a dweogr glamor bard. He actually didn’t know about the horny bard trope and just wanted to play as a musician. Then he found out you could seduce people and pogged harder than anyone has ever pogged. I also made her a woman so I could push my He/They Du Bois agenda in my fic. (I KNOW AND PERCEIVE THE TRUTH.) Harry playing as himself but a hot lady because he thinks it would be funny: "Hmmm I sure hope this doesn't awaken anything in me."

DRAUGUS INFERNITUM -- I called Kim a necromancer in my fic, but he's actually a grave cleric, or whatever the Wirral equivalent is. Draugus is a verrry subtle self-insert, as I think the ability to protect people and prevent death is sort of a wish-fulfillment thing for Kim lol. With no conceptualization skill, Kim doesn’t really like RP (he sucks at it), but he’s very good at resource management and combat (hence why he's a cleric), and probably enjoys writing lore and backstory stuff. (He and Judit bond over nerd shit lol.)

MAX MUSTERMANN -- Jean didn’t give a shit about his character, so everyone just pictures Max as normal Jean with a stupid hat. He’s a rogue, but a more str-based subclass I think, whatever that might be. (Scout? Swashbuckler?) I also think Jean eventually just loses interest in the game and stops playing, and Judit takes Max over as a DMPC. She cares more about him than Jean did and everyone ends up liking the bizzaro Jean she plays more than the real-life Jean lmfao.

JACQUES BUCHER -- I have Many Thoughts about Judit and her husband and what their relationship is like, but I'll summarize it quick. I interpreted her singular line about him as more of a lighthearted jab and less of a genuine complaint, and I think he's like a Spencer Shay type guy. Eccentric artist that can't hold down a job lol. Goofy and incompetent in a charming way, because he's at least trying. And he's also the only person among the players with the creative chops to actually make a real OC and not a self-insert. I made Mr. Minot's character a fairly normal fighter for the sake of party-balance. Although it would be very funny if he was a fucked up eldritch knight or psi warrior type class. Secretly the most insane person at the table. (And NO this is not a case of competent wife/dork ass loser husband. For you see, Judit is also a dork ass loser. (Wirral Fan) (Cop) (Willingly Spends Time With Harry Du Bois))

#disco elysium #harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #judit minot #jean viquemare #art

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dimiclaudeblaigan · 7 months

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nah but like

they're "seiros lapdogs" because they're fighting back against the people who attacked them completely unprovoked??? also because it so happens that thales is at garreg mach so they have to go there to reclaim the area to defeat him???

i just hate this because it's just perpetuating things about faerghus and its people that just aren't true. it frames it like they jumped into the war willingly for the church and that they're only here for the church. like nah buddy, it's not faerghus' fault you're out here fighting to protect thales and ludwig.

it also is batshit to me how he and leopold are fighting to stop faerghus from advancing but like... they know what's happening to the empire and that edelgard isn't even calling the shots anymore, yet they still stupidly fight for the very person who is literally razing their country and burning their villages. they know the empire is in shambles and that the kingdom isn't targeting them and is specifically aiming for gm to get it back from who? thales; who, mind, at this point is in his real form and not posing as arundel anymore. everything is laid out plainly, but they still act like faerghus is the bad guy.

but yeah, okay. faerghus BaD for defending themselves, fighting back, finding out who is behind all the puppeteering and heading to take him out. sure, that makes them seiros lapdogs. like what are you, an agarthan mouthpiece??? may as well be like yeah you go retreat and leave you agarthan lapdog. if they don't realize it's Someone Else in charge of course, then ludwig lapdog works fine too.

and it sucks because other than this shit, i like waldemar just fine as a character. it's just like, it feels like they forced someone to have to stick in that final faerghus BaD insult before the grand finale so they just randomly picked someone to remind us that faerghus is Always Wrong as long as they continue to fight back and prevent being attacked in the future.

waldemar here is just basically ag caspar. fighting and risking his life for thales, who is destroying the empire and basically holding the emperor hostage. if the writing here had any decent plot points, they would've all stopped and have been like hey wait, shouldn't we be fighting to get our emperor back? why are we stopping these guys from killing the people who are destroying this country?

and like, they literally went from siding with ludwig during the insurrection to siding with edelgard in this timeline to... jumping immediately back to ludwig as soon as he was at the top of the food chain (thales notwithstanding). as soon as the person in charge changes, they jump ship immediately; then of course get mad that the people they attacked are coming after them... and fighting them as they defend the very people who are letting adrestia become a literal, physical ruin.

it really just tells me that these people don't care about adrestia itself, but status, power and wealth. they don't care about the country itself as long as they're doing well. that's like, the only thing i can get from still fighting with/for ludwig/thales. the fact that they just fight for ludwig again as soon as edelgard is out of commission is also pretty gross to me. they have no loyalty at all.

and it's like, i want to like waldermar and leopold, but they come across as just selfish, entitled and only there for their own asses to be covered. and i get that - that is a realistic take on politicians, but the fact that the game regularly loops back around to faerghus BaD despite that and despite portraying these people as opportunistically selfish is like... what are they even trying to write??

#DCB Three Hopes Run #ah yes. the hours i wait for to post this stuff.#it's like whenever i finally find an adrestian character i like they have them spew some bs like this #or in ferdie's case i loved him and hopes made him another edelgard simp instead of like #the one person around her who contested her views and BLATANTLY OUTRIGHT told her "you're wrong''#but ofc yes edelgardwash him bc that's too extreme in a fodlan game #and in this case with waldemar it's not EVEN edelgard. it's just ''faerghus evil for trying to retake gm''#''we attacked gm and won so it's OURS now the ppl who lived there first don't matter anymore''#''what do you mean it's being held by a threat to all of us? no such thing only you are a threat''#literally like they either killed off the adrestians offscreen or made them stupid as fuck just to have you #fight named characters. like if leopold KNOWS all of this then why is he STILL fighting and acting like it's for adrestia #when his actions in that moment were actively HARMING adrestia?#but yet somehow it like I said loops back to faerghus bad... but yet the writing in general #does portray faerghus as doing the right thing... and then has other characters insist they're bad #and so much so like they're purposely shoving it in your face TO believe it #it's like saying someone helped save a village from destruction and protected all the children in a safe shelter #but a bunch of characters say those ppl are evil and it keeps pressing and pushing that statement OVER and over #like rly what are you trying to write with this? i love ag but the last few chapters are just like #wow how dare you try to kill ludwig the one true future of adrestia who is being puppeteered by thales. like. okay.

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moregraceful · 4 months

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Im sorry you're experiencing bay area traffic (hell), but also you DO probably know what I want to know about. It's the other classic bay area experience.. it's the boba fic 👀 (tbh I want to know all of them ofc but I feel like boba fic has won my loyalty. Obsessed with it)

THANK YOU to both of you for asking sorry I am replying to this a billion years late I am fortifying myself with a milkshake and answering some asks starting with this one. I don't actually remember what the meme said so I am just going to give you the outline of the plot

Mario Brent boba au...BASICALLY what if Brent broke up with Mario when he got traded to Carolina and he was a total dick about it bc he was like...the love of my life, my child bride, Mario Ferraro my one and only, he deserves a better life than taking care of some old ass broken down guy (Brent has at this point seen how Joe and Patty's bodies have just...internally combusted even tho externally they got hotter when they retired) and he's like I'm at the end of my career I CANNOT condemn a life of caretaking to the light of my life who is so young and so full of life. BUT HE'S A DUMMY BC MARIO WOULD CHOOSE HIM!! MARIO WOULD CHOOSE HIM EVERY TIME!! but he doesn't KNOW that so he breaks up with Mario in the worst timing (after sex) and leaves for North Carolina.

Mario obvi having the worst senior year of his life misses his boyf doesnt want to stay in the Bay doesn't want to move back to Toronto John is applying to Americorps in Arizona his life SUCKS....graduates and for several years he is so miserable having fucked up Grindr hook ups that are psychologically destabilizing, tries to have relationship or two with various SF boba baristas but he's just like i WANT my BOYFRIEND back. And Brent calls him at the worst possible times (drunk, after winning games, in the hammock in Sebastian Aho's backyard) and Mario never picks up and Brent never leaves a message which is even MORE destabilizing. Mario gets a job at Facebook and wants to die.

Then obviously the Canes win the cup and Mario is glued to the entire cup run obvi like it's BRENT he wouldn't miss this and when Brent raises the cup he like has to turn off the TV and go for a long walk in his dumb SF neighborhood that he doesn't even enjoy living in and ends up at the beach (ig he lives in Outer Sunset) and just stands in the water feeling miserable until he can't feel parts of his body and then goes home. Tries to sleep. Can't. Brent calls. He doesn't want to answer but he does.

This may be the one boba fic my dumbass GM can't nerf...I had another one abt Nick Cicek having a toxically bad hook up with Mario and then he must decide between Mario and Montana Onyebuchi. Then my dumb idiot GM traded Cheech and Montana refused to sign. This has happened to [checks notes] three different boba fics bc we simply cannot trust an NHL gm in this day and age...but Mario and Brent are already tragically separated so at least I have that going for me.

Maybe Mario's neighbors in his apartment in Outer Sunset are Mackenzie and Kaapo. And they own a purse dog named Magnus.....who's to say, really.

#i think i've really mastered the art of saying things recreationally tbh #i want to write it tho....i miss the boba universe. so silly #cage replies #localapparent #lemondropbois #rpf for ts

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idontlikeem · 1 month

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quick reminder that no GM in the history of GMs has ever or will ever come out and say “yep for sure gonna fire that dude in a few months because he sucks ass”. no, not even when they’re literally firing him. GMs and executives publicly back their staff no matter what options are being considered behind the scenes, no exceptions, and even when they’re getting fired most of what you’ll get is along the lines of “decided to go different ways” or “team performance indicated we needed a change”, all sandwiched in a ton of mutual respect, admiration, and confidence in future success.

in short, don’t take what kyle told the athletic to mean that’s literally exactly how he feels or what he’s planning. it might be. it also might not be. and if it’s not, we will continue to hear him say stuff along these lines literally until the decision is made and announced.

#pens lb

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doubledutchratfucker · 9 months

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so why can't you actually just cast create water on someone's lungs?

like, seriously. it's an old ass joke and one most people are tired of, but why can't you? sure you could argue that you can't actually see the lungs so it doesn't count but you could just say that the body is a container and maybe exoant lungs to like, throat and ears and stuff. you could say dnd 5e makes a distinction between creatures and objects but 1) 5e sucks at keywording so if it does I've not read that rule and 2) that distinction is shaky at best and makes no sense. if you'd allow create water inside a kangaroo's pouch or someone's cupped hands, there's no reason to disallow it that isn't just working backwards from 'the entire system would shatter if a first level spell could insta kill anything that wasn't undead or a construct'

and that is the actual, real reason. narrative power, rather than absolute power, reflecting what dnd is at its core: a resource management game. the importance of the resource you expend has to be reflected in the narrative effect. bigger resource, bigger effect. sure maybe in role play you can do fun stuff with cantrips that has a pretty big effect, but how much of that is dnd, and how much is group improv? there's no rule that says that if you Minor Illusion constant fart noises from the throne that the reigning monarch will come to be known as Ferdinand the Flatulent, that's the GM using common sense. Jeremy Crawford had nothing to say in it*.

contrast this with say, Mage: The Ascension or Ars Magica, where the power is absolute. half the game is about wrangling the magic into a shape where you get the most bang for your buck. if someone in your Ars Magica game makes a spell to create water in someone's lungs and kill them, you clack them on the back, well done, you've done Ars Magica right. Ars Magica is not a resource management game.

is one objectively better than the other? not really, they're just means to an end. the dnd way requires a constant extra suspension of disbelief, extra work on the part of the GM to explain it away**, and also generally leads to a very fragile system with very rigid spells, and then a lot more spells to fill the gap and a load of redundancies, but it's not fair to judge a concept on its poorest execution. pathfinder 2e does basically the same thing, without the identity crisis, and is stronger for it.

and games like Ars Magica have to go though hoops not to break the game. sure your all powerful wizard can do anything, but you spend most of your time playing as their dirt eating sidekicks while they hole away in their studies working on their powers.

so yeah. that's why that thing works like it do

* there is, admittedly, a whole other argument to be had about how much of your time at the table is spent playing the game, and how much is just improv, and where the line between the two sits, but that's outside the scope of this post

** my personal method is adapting the Manton Effect from from worm: unless specifically stated magic can't manifest within the boundaries of one's body, which the weave understands to be different to an external container. but that isn't dnd rules, that's me figuring out how to justify dnd rules

#overthinking tabletop games #dnd #Ars magica #mage: the ascension #ttrpg #rpg

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silverspleen · 3 months

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Bhalkam did also lowkey invite Varand to..... convert to the Qun I guess?? today just in passing after a random conversation they were having kind of like a "oh you could... come back with me to Par Vollen you know when this is all done if you want?"

Bhalkam absolutely does NOT plan on staying in Ferelden he thinks Ferelden fucking sucks and has too much magic and he hates being a Grey Warden and thinks it's stupid dumb and everyone is ass backwards and at this point if Varand does not manage to rescue any elves from indentured servitude and/or slavery there is almost a 100% guarantee that he will just straight up convert to the Qun he is gone he will go hit Tevinter with hammers for the rest of his godly life with his bro there will be no point in his hanging out in Ferelden when he can do significantly more damage with the backing of a bigger, badder culture that does not like Tevinter either.

The only people Bhalkam thinks are remotely cool is 1) our sexy half-elf magic blacksmith that he has a crush on bc she is sooo good at crafting and 2) Varand because he keeps getting beat up but tries anyway. Everyone is afraid of him except dragons, who all think he is the hottest shit they have ever met (our GM has thrown more dragons in the campaign for because dragons are cool and 2/3 of them were so impressed by Bhalkam.).

I ultimately don't think Varand would actually like the Qun much but like... I can also see him just being cool with living wherever there's a big concentration of free elves and he does respect how unflappable Bhalkam is, the warrior's code and such.

#Varand is SO CLOSE to getting over being culturally catholic UH. Culturally A Follower of the Chantry #at this point he is vaguely convinced that helped kill god's wife who might have been a dragon but the dragon was PROBABLY LYING. HE HOPES.#the dragoon diaries #Varand ALSO thinks Ferelden fucking sucks but also he lives here so like... there's parts he likes. Sometimes. Sometimes people are nice.#dragoons big dumb ocs

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emperorhyperi0n · 10 months

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GEATS THOUGHTS:

[THERE ARE SPOILERS SO UHH DON'T READ IF YOU. HAVEN'T SEEN EPISODE 41 YET]

Damn that's a sick ass outfit.

I love the descent of Keiwa throughout the episode. He's in his full Fallen Hero/Darth Vader arc now, and it's incredibly interesting to see how far he's willing to go to both get revenge, and use the goddess' power to maybe get his sister back. My boy is Not Doing Well and it's so interesting to see him like this in comparison to Ace (I love narrative foils!!! I love alignment switches caused by trauma or the overcoming of trauma!!!!!!)

Also wow this makes the NinjaNavigator ship idea look very awkward in hindsight lmao

It's not as bad as eating a literal baby, but jesus christ Daichi has completely gone off the deep end. My man is literally turning people into memory trees and it's just. augh. that's so good of course that's what he's attempting to do. It's a supremely fucked up way of accomplishing his OG goal and I love it.

Michinaga is really goin through it huh. I know that a bunch of people are kinda baffled that they're showing him as having guilt now and/or taking incredible amounts of pleasure in him suffering for his actions, but me? I've kinda felt bad. He's never made an effort to try and his disgust at his own actions, but he's always thought that it was worth it. And now he's been really hit in the face with the metaphorical wet trout of his actions, and the guilt is causing him to hallucinate ghosts like he did with Tooru. It's really sad, even if he did deserve it to an extent.

Jit looks cool. He's probably my favorite of the GMs so far, and it sucks that he's only here to facilitate new power ups for the Evil Grandparents and/or fuck with Ace's newfound freedom. Also Win! My boy! He's fighting!!!!

#kamen rider geats

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telltale-tabletop · 9 months

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Cie'th from FFXIII are heartbreaking and really fuckin cool.

I know the FFXIII trilogy is divisive among the fandom, and this discourse is not without merit. However, I feel all the people who dislike the games have failed to consider: the setting kicks ass????

In the world of FFXIII, mechanical god-like beings (one is literally just like, a building,) known as Fal'Cie watch over humanity, exacting their unknowable goals under the guise of having mankind's best interests at heart. This is total bullshit, of course. They serve their own interests, and for many of them that is awakening their creator at any at all costs,

When a Fal'cie has use of a servant, in a spin on the classic image of a paladin, they fuckin BRAND their chosen hero. These branded chosen are known as L'cie, and are given three things:

1.) Both magical and physical strength. Except instead of like, casting smite, you get fireball for free. It's kinda rad.

2.) An ominous fucking fever dream showing what they must accomplish in easily misunderstood surreal imagery! This is known as the L'cie's Focus. Good news! If you complete this you get eternal life! Probably. Okay it's more like you're encased in crystal and put into storage until your mechanical overdiety needs you as a meatshield again- but like, cmon nothing's free right?

Congrats, assuming you've been branded! You now have magic, incredible strength, and a limited time left to live. You better work out your Focus, and fast- those who fail to fulfill their focus become shambling monsters known as Cie'th. Imagine zombies that can sling spells but lack any of the sanity or intelligence to use them properly. Cie'th live in constant agony, cursed to wander and lash out at anything that comes close- including themselves. In an especially heartbreaking touch, some Cie'th occasionally cast healing magic on themselves only for it to do absolutely nothing.

Kindof a lose-lose situation huh?

Little recap, in the form of a helpful image for you!

Could you imagine how fucking soul-wrenching this would be in a DND campaign? Picture this: The party's favorite NPC is branded by some dark deity, and given a focus. Cool! You now have an extremely powerful ally that can cast some pretty good spells, and kicks serious ass.

Except, of course, they must complete their focus. And as a GM, i'd take this in the most heart wrenching direction possible- that is to say, your beloved NPC is now in complete opposition to the party. Give it a few sessions for the party and NPC to work it out, slowly drip feeding the information through the cryptic dreams the NPC has every night.

Let's assume your NPC is a good-hearted person, who deeply cares about the party. In my mind, they completely denounce their focus, outright refusing to fulfill it. Determined to find another way, they lock themselves away to study and research- looking for any possible way to rid themselves of their fate.

If your party pops in on them from time to time, describe how this dark crystalline material creeps around their body, spreading from their brand. Once the head is covered, it's game over. This could be both a great launching off point for a sidequest (save your friend!!!!) or a hopeless task in the shadow of higher beings. Alot can be done with this, I think!

You could also just like, have your NPC go along with their focus? A battle against a once-friend now-divine-battlemage also kicks significant ass. A good 7 on the AssKickometer.

We actually see this happen in-game, its pretty cool!

Ignoring the sexyman himbo in the image, this would be absolutely devastating to your table if they're at all sympathetic to NPCs.

Man. If only someone made a statblock for one of the Cie'th varieties from FFXIII for use in such a plotline. Sure sucks that no such thing exists IM LYING IVE DONE IT ALREADY.

This is a statblock I'm giving to you, dear reader, for absolutely free!

When I was making this, I imagined this as the absolute rock bottom for the character, a mere shell of their former power and self.

ENJOY!!!!!

This is my first ever tumblr post, and my first time trying something like this, so critique and input is highly valued!

Additionally, submission and ask boxes are open! So like, yell at me about cool monsters you like from Things and Such!!!! Do it!!! Right Now!!!!!!

#dnd homebrew #homebrew #dnd #monster #final fantasy #stat block #first post #ffxiii #final fantasy 13 #plot hook

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jeeperso · 1 year

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D&D Quotes Without Context

Revenge of CHAOTICA!, Episode 5

Tricking their way inside the Owlword factory fortress, the group located the imprisoned PRINCE FLAPJACK the Merciless. Freeing him they began slaughtering everything in their path until they came face to beak with the commander of the fortress and his cadre of elite guards. Appearing suddenly, without even an establishing shot, Moonpaw bursts onto the scene! "Don't worry [Moonpaw], tails grow back!” *leans to Robbins* “No they don’t.” "....Robbins, sweetie, cover your ears.” "Can't. I-have-knives-in-both-hands. Knives-and-my-ears-don’t-go-together.” Fiver glares at the commander "OH I AM SO STEALING YOUR IDENTITY AFTER WE KILL YOU. I'm signing your ass up for Horseporn.com after this.” Commander: “Those horses wanted it!” Fiver blinks. "You bastard.” Thunderchild: “She slices, she dices, she makes julienne owl.” GM: You look down the stairs to see Flapjack engaging the guards below, covered in gore. Fiver: "Pretty sure that's gonna work itself out.” Silvercat, the commander tries to back away from you, giving you an attack of opportunity. "GET HIS WALLET [MOONPAW]! I want his credit cards. I WILL invest all his gold in cNFT’s.” "Meowtal combat!” "ROBBINS! I'M OUT OF HEALING, YOU'RE ON MEDIC DUTY.” "I-AM-A-STABBY-DEATH-MACHINE! HOWDOIMEDIC!?” One of them yells, “Screw this, you’re a terrible boss!” And runs for the stairs. Fiver just steps aside and lets him pass. "Fair warning, it ain’t much better down this way.” Thunderchild calls after the owl: “If you're still alive once all this is over, I have a concept I'd love to share with you and any of your fellow mistreated workers!” “HE KILLED HOT CARL!” One of the remains guards lifts her shield, “OwlWorld! Forever!” And then the staff implodes behind her sucking the commanders body into a horrifying nether dimension. “Okay, yeah, we’re cool.” "Alright then. Katt, grab the eye of Lumbara and let’s get the Hell outta here.” Katt, as you grab the hatchet, a word echoes through your mind … lumber……lumber… LUMBERCATS! HOOOOOOOO!!!!! "Gotta say, Flannel is a good look for you. You pull it off.” Flapjack makes his way up the stairs, dropping an armful of arms into Fiver’s arms. “Okay. Had a good time.” "Likewise. Also I think Katt just became the queen of Lumbara or something. Like seriously is that normal? Should we be worried?” "I'm not sure weapons found in polluting factories is a good basis for government.” “Sound the can opener, we take back Lumbera!” Flapjack: “We did. Everone’s dead. Except that one.” He says, nodding at the last guard. Thunderchild: “Leave them alone, I'm instructing them on the finer points of unionizing.” "So, QnA time, what the Hell was this all about?” Katt: “They loved Hot Carl.” “No, I was fucking Hot Carl.” Katt: “There’s a difference?” “Yeah, I love my husband, I was fucking Hot Carl.” Thunderchild: “Wait which Carl was in the cells? I'm going to assume Dumb Carl.” Fiver: "Goddammit the commander imploded. I wanted his credit card.” Moonpaw: "What's a credit card?” Fiver: "Oh honey, I can't bring myself to tell you. I don't want to break your little heart.” “No one will notice one more body.” "Noted. Shutting up now.” "Did you ask them if they stole from you first, confirm before you acted?” “That’s kinda outside my paygrade.” "So... You're-now-an-axe-monk. Huh-Sis?” "Better than an axe-cop.” “Beware-the-axe-milk-man." "Questions for later, I'm going to enjoy my box, maybe get blitzed on catnip with Moonpaw.” Fiver: ”Yeah, remember, you don't have to outrun the dragon, you just have to outrun your slowest friend.” Thunderchild: “Fiver, I hate to tell you this but I'm pretty sure YOU are the slowest friend in this situation.” "Am I?” Rabbit hop 15 feet across the room. "My legs may be a little messed up but I can still move when I have too.” *winces* "Um, bartender, could I have some Ice, I think I pulled a hammy.” GM OOC: I kinda wanted this to be an encounter that requires tactics. OOC: Oh no! one of our weaknesses! Along with. Puzzles. Diplomacy. Memory. Table Manners. OOC2: As a battle nun, Katt knows manners. Maybe she'll use them someday. GM OOC: Next week: THE FURY OF COCAINE! OOC: I don't have anything to do, so I've got to go remedy that.

#dungeons and dragons #dnd 5e #quotes without context #Revenge of CHAOTICA!

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snowflake-dreams · 3 months

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I feel like all I have left at this point is my 3d and mental illnesses.

My career is going downhill, I was demoted due to a lot of drama from an old gm, and my hours are getting cut back now. After being with the company and busting my ass for my spot for 5 years.

My love broke up with me officially (we were already broken up but it was the "yeah I really don't think we're ever getting back together itsnotyouitsme")

The guy I've been trying to move on with is turning out to not be all that great for me personally (lot of vaguely sexist things, and plays into the 'bring gross and missing off my gf is cute' thing, also made a pregnancy joke and he knows I had a miscarriage that's still very traumatizing to me)

I never get to see my friends or family because my car doesn't handle well in snow and we've had winter storms for weeks now and my friends and family all live an hour away minimum.

All I can find comfort in is my own head because it might really suck in here but it's a type of pain I know. It's a type of pain I can feel comfort in. At least some things never change.

#personal

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the-stray-liger · 4 months

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REPORT TIME BAYBEEE!!!!!!

Fate: Our campaign is over! It was a hella fun one-shot ngl. Makes me excited for when the GM decides to run a full campaign.

So on the tea! Shortly after meeting Gilgamesh, we went to a shopping district to investigate some fun happenings. People getting beat left and right, impossible robberies and the local Yakuza is also losing a lot of people.

Our lovely vampire matriarch Margerite succesfully manages to abduct one of the robbers we caught red-handed. They're all Magi. Then bullets started flying. Magical bullets. Our friendly Homunculus Nonou tried to use shapeshifting to avoid incoming bullets, but soon found himself under a *heavy* barrage.

And then we realized that all that fire was coming from a single person. A girl in Japanese garb but with a Western-style military vest. And a FUCK TON of matchlocks. Like, Mami Tomoe-level fuck ton. So yeah, we found Archer! And she says how our blood will fuel her war machine and goes 2nd Ammendment on us.

Our Lancer Vercingetorix managed to get the jump on her, and now we had to fill a clock to make her realize fighting us is gonna suck. My bird-loving Magi Nash was and our Russian anti-bourgeoisie cousin Vlaz teamed up to deliver a superb combo of rocket launcher and Thunderbird blasts. Coupled with Vercingetorix throwing spears left and right, we filled the clock! And now Archer's pissed xD

Fate 2: Now Archer's furious her fun's being spoiled and goes on the offensive and Vercingetorix is getting the workout of his life. Somewhere else... Dearest Auntie is being accosted by someone firing holy arrows at her. Her Dead Apostle senses can tell they're not a Servant, but a human. Though a very powerful one. Russian Boi tries to help her by gunning him down and gets an arrow for his efforts, so Margaerite is ready to square up, injuring this bowman and getting some of his blood. She's about to continue until she sees that he's got a companion, a girl in a grey hood carrying a bird cage. Girlie summons a freaking spear made of freaking light. The bowman then summons a holy blade... all seems lost... Until Vlaz shows up. He storms right up to where the man and the girl are with an arrow sticking out of his chest and literally demands to speak with whoever's in charge much to the guy's complete BEFUDDLEMENT. Like, there's this Russian man Karen-ing right in your face, what'chu gonna do? This catches him so off guard that he literally puts his hands up and gives up. Like, he literally went "You dare shoot arrow at Vlaz??? Shoot his body like the bullseye??? Oh, jail for bowman!!!" and the bowman is like "But you shot me first!" and the retort is "But do you have bullet sticking out of CHEST??" and this goes on until the thing in the bird cage dissipates the spear and tells us all to give it a call once us ladies finish our slap contest xD And thus the bowman and the Magi leave, thoroughly confused at what just transpired. Margaerite and Vlaz make it just in time to see Archer kicking our asses. Nash is busy keeping up distractions with illusions of herself and Nonou the Homunculus, but Archer just guns them down and finally has Nonou on her sights... until Nash managed to land a good Gandr shot to briefly knock her off balance... and then I just shouted "Get her Vercingetorix." The entire battlefield went STILL Fate 3: So yeah, I blurted out Vercingetorix's name. It was really an oversight on my part, but given how impulsive Nash is, I just rolled with it xD Archer legit stopped mid-gight to say "Nani?!" before getting clocked on the face by Torix. When everyone gathered, we then unleashed an All-Out Attack. Me with my bird magic summoning lightning bolts, Vlaz with his Reinforcement-enchanted guns, Nonou by revealing he can transfrom into the fucking Hulk and Margaerite with her fucking hands xD We forced Archer to unleash her Noble Phantasm. And then the dice were nice to me and I was able to roll a Critical, meaning that this 16-year old girl not only managed to deflect all of Archer's bullets. She did so well she actually finished filling Archer's defeat clock and force her to surrender. And with that, we were allowed to go back home. I got chastised severely for blowing up Torix's cover, we learned that the bowman and the Magi Margaerite fought are Shirou Emiya and Gray... and more importantly, that El-Melloi was indeed active and present. So with that, I decided to sneak out of the mansion (Rolling very well on my Sneaking roll) and defected to El Melloi. And that's how it went! Breaking News: second Report has hit Nate Gundam: Was resolved relatively quickly xD Turns out Alicia was so good at buttering up the captain in charge of the base that she was able to pass Makeda's wandering off as her being incompetent at her job T-T Then we got into a catfight because Alicia had the gall of "firing" and getting her escorted out of the base. Horrible, I know. But eventually we found plenty of stuff: One, the Noisy Fairies are canon here O-O Two, Goufs are soon gonna be Canon here. Three, Cleopatra Dessan is MAD PISSED. Once we finished the mission, we found that she has managed to figure out where we are located and has sent us a threat: Either we release Tetra and come fight her, or she will have her allied squads massacre one thousand Federation civilians for every day we delay in giving her back. So yeah, a season finale is upon us!

I wish I could provide Thoughts but it's like 32°C in my apartment and all I can really think about is that I'm SO fucking jealous that you're having all these cool adventures dlkfasdfjad Im so glad you're having so much fun this is fucking FANTASTIC

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