#glib d&dorks

[narrlsy]

Let this man rest

[blitzendoggo]

Glib: *holds up a very mediocre painting he did*

Prophis: Oh! I like it, good job, Glib!

Callisto: He’s being nice. The painting is ugly

[dark-nimbus]

The poor dude just needs a break. Preferably with his child and all the Party of Chaos members

[glibussy]

Hey! D&Dorks fandom! Yeah all 10 of you!

Come join the fandom discord! Its a lovely place to share art and fics, make friends, and just goof around! We'd love for more people to come in and hang around!

[newweaponx22]

The Golden Touch

Depictions of cursing and violence

(2242 words)

God of Wealth, what a fucking joke. I’m the god of wealth, but I’ve still gotta pay the price. If you’d told me 80 years ago what I was getting into, I honestly would have done it again, but I was a fucking idiot.

Goodbid rolls out of his bed landing face-first on the floor. The lines of age are etched into his face, and the bags under his eyes are more prominent than ever. His beard has grown in as he hasn’t shaven in months. The years have clearly not been kind to him, as the smile is wiped from his face. He starts to have a coughing fit on the floor. You can almost hear the cancer in his lungs.

He reaches up to support himself as he stands up. As his hand touches the bedspread a gold shine slowly creeps along it. His closet slides open to reveal a black suit with golden pinstripes; he only bothers to put on the undershirt and pants. Before he closes the closet, he lingers on a framed picture of him and his party, his family. He reaches for his cigarette box only to find it empty, so he walks over to his wall, pressing a button, and, with a woosh, the wall slides back to reveal the bustling cityscape of Backspace.

As he climbs down the fire escape-like structure leading down the building, he looks back up at his almost vending machine-like residence. Each occupant has their own designated boxes. Goodbid stands in the middle of the bustling crowd as a figure with a gruff voice approaches him. As he sees who the figure is, his heart skips a beat.

Elias:“Morning, Golden Boy, how’d ya sleep?”

Goodbid:“I told you not to call me that.” Goodbid tries to hide the fact that he loves it. He's always loved Elias, but he won't let anyone get hurt again. “And you know I don't sleep.”

Elias:“Whatever ya say, Golden Boy.”

Elias claps him on the back, Goodbid winces at the touch before remembering it's only skin contact that's dangerous.

They walk through the crowd, and they come upon a stone building very reminiscent of Franklin castle from the main timeline, Elias walks through the front while Goodbid waits outside. He walks over to lean against the wall, his heart speeds up at the thought of him and with this sudden rush of emotion, one of the stones on the building turns to gold.

Elias:“Catch.”

Elias tosses him a pack of cigarettes, Goodbid catches it, but it turns to gold.

Elias:“Damn it, Goodbid, do you have any idea how hard it is to get those?”

Goodbid:“Hey! You know I can't control this shit!”

Elias:“Nah, your powers only act up when you’re nervous or something. Do I get your heart racin’ Golden-Boy?”

Goodbid:“Shut up” Goodbid cracks a faint smile for the first time in a long time.

Elias walks over next to Goodbid offering him a second pack of cigarettes, but first, he takes one for himself. Goodbid takes out his solid gold cigarette holder, placing a cigarette on the end and lighting it. The two lean against the wall, smoking together.

Elias:“Ya know, you could do a lot to help out around here”

Goodbid:“Yeah? How so?”

Elias:“Well, not everyone has unlimited resources, people need money.”

Goodbid:“That's not how the economy works; if I just make more money, the value depreciates.”

Elias:“C’mon if you keep worryin’ about the economy, you’re never gonna have any fun.”

Goodbid:“The answer is no Elias, I can't control this shit.” Goodbid starts to walk away.

Elias:“Well, at least let me buy ya a drink.” He turns back to face Elias with a knowing smile.

A few hours later

Elias buys Goodbid his third drink of the night

Elias:“Ok so lemme get this straight; if you make more money, the value of money goes down?”

Goodbid:“Right.”

Elias:“That makes no fucking sense.”

Goodbid:“It makes perfect sense.”

Elias:“Whatever, no more work talk, tell me about you.”

Goodbid:“Not much to tell.”

Elias:“C’mon, tell me about the Goodbid who never smiles?”

Goodbid:“Is that what they call me?”

Elias:“Yeah, everyone talks about you. I mean all Goodbids smile, what happened to you? What makes you special?”

Goodbid:“I lost my party, after SG died Glib tried to attack the blank and it got him too.”

Elias:“Shit, man, I’m sorry, I didn't know.”

Goodbid:“It's alright. I mean, it's been 80 years. I should be over it by now.”

Elias:“Hey, as a soldier, lemme tell ya, it's okay to still feel shitty about that, watching your friends get killed right in front of you is never easy, but ya just gotta remember that they wouldn’t want you to sulk for the rest of your life.”

Goodbid:“Well, enough about me, what about you, what's your reality like?”

Elias:“I mean we were friends in my reality, we took a few jobs together, and eventually we started working together till…”

Goodbid:“Till what?”

Elias:“You died, and I should’ve been there to stop it. I got called away for a job and your stubborn ass decided to go do a job on your own and got yourself killed.” Elias’ eyes start to swell with tears.

Goodbid:“Ya know, it was kinda like that in my reality, but we were more rivals than anything, but, for what it's worth, ya seem all right ta me.”

Elias:“I think that's the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

The pair gaze into each other's eyes for a moment then Elias leans in for a kiss. As their lips are about to meet Goodbid pulls back, afraid that he might turn the last person he cares about to gold. He puts some golden coins on the table as he rushes out the door. Elias follows him outside, but Goodbid has disappeared into the night.

A few months later

Goodbid wakes up in his bed next to Elias to an alarm going off, he's clearly much more put together, and his room is furnished now. Elias wakes up and shaves Goodbids beard down to a mustache.

Elias“We got new arrivals to greet this morning.”

Goodbid:“Well, let's get to work then,” Goodbid says with a smile, but it's not the cheesy grin the other Goodbids wear.

The couple walks to the docking area where they greet new arrivals, meeting the main party. Glib's eyes are glowing red and he is seething with rage.

Glib: WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY?!?!

Goodbid(main): Glib, I'm gonna need ya ta take a breath.

Goodbid: Good morning everyone, welcome to Backspace. I'm here to get yall set up if you would just follow me.

Glib: I am not going anywhere with you until you tell me where they are!

Doc: *Doc starts to rattle off questions*

Goodbid: If you just follow me to the D.J.E.C. all will be revealed and everything will be sorted out.

The group begins to follow the couple, and they approach a building with the letters D.J.E.C. brandished across the front.

Goodbid: Mornin’ Doc we got some new arrivals for ya.

Callisto: What the fu…

The party enters a large chamber and sees the council of Docs

Doc Prime: Welcome all to Doctor Johanesses Expanded Council.

Callisto: Why the hell are you in charge?!

Doc 2: Ah, I remember my Callisto, you’ve all got that spirit.

Glib: Someone tell me where Emmi is.

Doc Prime: Emmi is being held in a special containment center which we do not have access to.

Glib: Are you not in charge here?!

Doc Prime: Yes I'm in charge here but Emmi isn't here.

Glib simmers with rage.

Doc: This is so intriguing, how did you all form this council?

Doc Prime: That is a story for another time, but right now, Goodbid 718 will get you set up with your monetary value and housing.

Goodbid(main): Does that mean me?

Goodbid: No, that means me. You’re Goodbid 846.

Bello: Mister Doc man, are these your siblings?

Doc: No, Bello, but we'll talk about that later.

Mercury: I appreciate the housing but, I’ve got my trusty Time Skimmer for a home.

Doc Prime: Ah, yes, your ship is going to be dismantled for parts. We require all the resources we can get in backspace.

Mercury: What, you can't dismantle her, she's alive!

Doc Prime: I’m afraid it has to be done.

Goodbid: Alright everyone, follow me. I’ll get ya set up in your apartment.

Sticks: What's an apartment?

Elias: Boy you’re in for a fun time, see ya at home.

Elias plants a kiss on Goodbids cheek before he splits off from the group. Goodbid leads the party to their building, and it is much like his own. It has the same vending machine-like structure except it only has two floors, a floor is added whenever it is required to house new occupants. Goodbid is getting Glib set-up in his apartment, and he is about to leave when Glib finally says something.

Glib: What am I supposed to do, just sit on my ass until I just fucking die?

Goodbid: Listen, Glib, I used to be like that. Guys like us, we’ve gone through so much, but we just gotta keep goin’. If we let this control us, their sacrifice is for nothing, they wouldn't want you to just sulk for the rest of your life.

Glib just sits there saying nothing, he is smoldering with rage. Goodbid gets up and walks across the room to the door, just before he steps through, he turns back to Glib and says,

“Welcome to Backspace, Glib.”

Goodbid goes home to wait for Elias to get home. He waits for an hour, but nothing. Two hours, still nothing. His heart starts racing. Elias should have been home by now, something’s wrong. He pulls on his coat and races outside to find his boyfriend. He makes it to Franklin Castle and sees tire tracks leading away from Elias’ guard post and his shotgun is on the ground. He kneels down to the tracks and under his breath, he mutters,

“Cyber-Cephalyn”

He runs off past Franklin Castle into the wildlands of Backspace. He comes upon the camp of the Cyber-Cephalyn and he sees Elias tied up, he sneaks into the camp and unties his beloved. As they are about to escape a crowd of the Cyber-Cephalyn forms around him. (They are the kraken robot species.)

The crowd parts as one larger Cyber-Cephalyn rolls through it. It has a crown on its dome and a spear in one hand.

Goodbid:“Blob, we don't have to do this, just let us go.”

Warlord Blob:“Well, Goodbid, unfortunately, I can't do that.”

Warlord Blob:“Ya see, I need you. If I remove you from the equation, the whole economy of Backspace crumbles, and that is exactly what I want. Kill him, boys.”

A fight ensues and Goodbid is separated from Elias in the chaos of the struggle. They begin to overwhelm Goodbid, pinning him down to the ground until bang!

Elias reveals a spare gun from his holster and shoots the Cyber-Cephalyn pinning Goodbid down. The two of them are fighting as a unit working with each other to fend off the rest. After the fight is done, Goodbid is leaned up against a wall, panting.

Goodbid:“Elias, you okay?”

Elias:“Johnny.” There is a somber tone to his voice.

Goodbid looks over at his love and there is a golden handprint on his chest and it's spreading. Goodbid crawls over to his dying lover as he slowly turns to gold.

Goodbid:“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Elias:“It's okay,”

Elias, places his hand on Goodbids cheek as it slowly turns to gold.

Tears begin to well in Goodbid’s eyes as the gold crawls up Elias’ neck and face.

With all of Goodbids heart, he tells Elias “I love you.” But it is too late, his lover is gone, replaced by a golden statue.

Six years later

Goodbid is lying in bed when there is a knock on his door. The familiar voice of Glib is heard from the other side of the door.

Goodbid:“Go away.”

Glib:“Goodbid, I gotta talk to you.”

The door slides open.

Goodbid:“The hell do you want?”

Glib enters the room as Goodbid pours himself a drink.

Glib:“I know you’ve been going through it, but I need you to snap out of it because I need your help.”

Goodbid:“Why the fuck do you need my help?”

Glib:“I need a Goodbid, and you’re the meanest son of a bitch I know.”

Goodbid:“No.”

Glib:“What do ya mean no?”

Goodbid:“No.”

Glib:“You haven't even heard the offer yet.”

Goodbid:“Still no.”

Glib:“Listen, I'm gonna tell you something you told me when I first got here, if we don't move on and live our lives their sacrifice was all for nothing, we gotta keep on going through life even if it hurts because they wouldn't want you to just sulk for the rest of your life.”

Goodbid says nothing. Glib walks to the door disappointed and just before he leaves Goodbid asks,

Goodbid:“What's the job?”

A smirk crosses Glib’s face as he turns around to face Goodbid.

The End

[saintclay]

Fuck it, D&Dorks time. 

Okay so genuinely, The Absence being a kid is so fucked up in the best way possible. Like Sir Superhero said that The Absence was a kid of indeterminate gender, and (correct me if I’m wrong) around 8-ish which like. Okay. 

Imagine you’re this kid. You’re somewhere between the ages of eight and ten, probably. I mean 8-ish could be anywhere from a tall 6-year old to a 12 year old who’s hitting puberty late, but considering that this kid did find one of the god thrones (and because they were described as being ‘around eight’) I’m going to assume eight years as my lower limit, and guesstimate around ten-ish as an upper limit, all things considered. anyway.

Imagine going on some kind of whirlwind adventure in the chaos realm, full of fantastical things, probably, and finding a throne, sitting on it and then suddenly.

Nothing.

Nobody can remember you. Even if you talk to them even if you ask them to remember you, they just can’t. And this would be horrid enough for an adult, but you’re a kid. You’ve probably never been on your own before, you’ve never really had to go for long periods of time without someone around to take care of you. You are at an age where you actually need a lot of socialization with peers in order to not get, y’know, profoundly fucked in the head. 

And this goes on for millennia. It goes on for so long that you forget your own name, you forget who you were before you were the God of Secrets.

This goes on until you find a party of adventures who come to figure out what the fuck is going on with a city that is suffering because someone broke a pact with you except surprise surprise the entire party except this one old blind dude are gods. Fledgeling gods. (Well okay no it goes on until this one dude comes and asks you to take care of the party of fledgeling gods, but lets not split differences)

And then suddenly, one of them remembers you. They give you a name that isn’t just The Absence. One of them, for some fucking reason, is lecturing you about safety and personal space like they’re your mother or something.  

Like god damn no wonder Skeezvol got stolen as soon as Emmy realized that he did, in fact remember them. Isolation does shit to you, and they’ve been isolated in the most concrete sense for a long time.

also it is so fucking on brand that the ‘Kid NPC’ that this party adopted is both technically older than all of them and is also probably more powerful than all of them

[kittyplayz1]

Sometimes I wonder if Panda knew the Pandora’s box he was opening when he gave his first ever DnD character a tentacle for a tongue.

[raccoons-art]

D&Dorks art dump!

[nightmareeadin]

BLOB! Glib’s familiar from D&Dorks' Symmetry War and Godforce campaigns. He is heavily designed off of a vampire squid.

[ot3showdown]

Goodbid/Glib/SG propaganda they're so silly and their shipname is literally Polykill they're disasters and so fuckin funny. Goodbid is a capitalist, Glib is a college drop out, SG loves gaslighting. What more do you need. D&Dorks fandom we MUST submit them.

so many of these throuples are killers. very nice

[polishtem]

The Helio Headcanon

D&dorks are my life at the moment

so i made a lengthy (and growing) headcanon about one character we meet in the season 2 finale. Emerald.

So yeah, this is the helio headcanon for emerald from d&dorks symmetry war: Godforce/Backspace

emerald is actually genderfluid while emmy is agender because their gender identity changed and grew with time. And emerald finds it freeing to be able to kind of....fluidly be.

Also emerald is seen as the face of the Backspace council despite not wanting to. like, they're a loner first and foremost but people seem to cling to them.

this emerald named themselves after being named something else...did some quick research. this emerald uses the name emerald with the newcomers since that's the most common name emmy's take on. While This emerald can create Heliodor gemstones and so they use the name Helios.

in the begining they didn't have a name, cuz the godcursed didn't care much for them and the first glib called them emerald because he had an emmy he lost and Helio was like, okay with the name, but grew resentful, because it wasn't THEIR name, it was the name of someone else that they were given for looking like them and the name doesn't even RELATE to them as it should seeing as they CAN'T make emeralds

and so they went to a SG, since they're the god of wealth and asked them WHAT the gems they can make are. the Sg looked at them, quickly responded with a string of words, with the only one that stood out was Heliodor (they listed off the properties, that they're in the same gem family as emeralds etc.)

and so the big boss emerald got their name. Helio (or Helios/heliod/heliodor, but more often Helio)

ANOTHER THING

looking at my other headcanon. emmy's physical age is what they feel like/their mental age at the moment and not an accurate reflection of how long they lived

WHAT IF HELIO- and hear me out. Didn't get to be a kid. Like, godcursed got them, they got to backspace/created backspace, and emerald had to help lead it. No time to be a teen, to grow.

they had to skip it. No Kid-Preteen-Teen-Young Adult-Adult just Kid-Adult+leader of a growing community A load of responsibility just dropped on their shoulders like a ton of bricks

[narrlsy]

Skog:you know this isn’t a replacement for therapy, right?

[blitzendoggo]

O' Lily of My Valley

Glib has seen his love grow old too many times, he just wishes there was a way to keep him around.

Goodbid/Glib (3583 words) TW: Lots of Death Talk

~~

Glib is old. Not physically, he stopped aging a millennia ago, but mentally.

He’s seen cities rise and fall, walked the streets of plague-ridden villages, and held the hands of dying soldiers who were shot in a war they never wanted to fight. He’s known the corrupt rulers who are too arrogant to fear death, the coughs of children too young to understand what it truly means to die, and young men who call out for their mother on their death bed, only to meet him. He’s buried everyone in his family, all the people he grew up with, and all of their kids several times over.

He was the first to become a God, and he was just unlucky enough to become the permanently immortal God of Death, doomed to walk Vontral alone.

Except he’s not quite alone.

Sure, there’s Callum, the insane God of Dreams, but there is also a certain half-elf mortal who gets reincarnated every 200 years, and always seems to come back with an infatuation with death.

“Those are bad for you, you know,” Glib says as he pulls his hood off his head, his brown hair falling limply in front of his deep green eyes while he steps out of the darkness from beside the man. The setting sun casts long shadows across the buildings, giving an ethereal, almost spooky look.

“So you’ve said,” the mustached man says nonchalantly. He’s leaned against a brick building in Bowenburg, watching the mostly empty streets while blowing smoke from a cigar that hangs loosely from his lips. His eyes stay transfixed on the unaware people in front of them, unbothered. He knew Glib would come to him.

The god scowls as he grabs the cigar from his mouth and puts it in his own, sliding to stand next to the taller man. The smoke fills his mouth and floods his airless lungs before he lets it slowly seep from his mouth like a dragon. “I mean it, it’ll fucking kill you,” he growls.

“Death doesn’t scare me,” he says cheekily.

“I should,” Glib says snappily. “Most people are fuckin’ terrified of me.”

“Well, I’m not most people, now am I?” he shoots back, mirth twinkling in his coal-black eyes.

For a moment, Glib considers telling him everything, the reincarnations, the old love, the lifelong relationships, all of it, but he stops. “No, no you aren’t,” he settles on instead.

“Besides,” the half-elf begins slowly, grabbing the cigar back from the god, “An early death just means eternity with you sooner.”

“Goodbid,” Glib growls, though all his previous names sit heavy on his tongue. Lawrence is always the first to come to his mind because it was the first, followed by Naethan, Plutos, and Milburn, but this time it’s Goodbid. Johnny B. Goodbid. “You’d be with me for eternity anyway, why are you fuckin’ wasting the time you have among your friends and family.”

“My family won’t talk to me no more, not since I began workin’ in your bidness,” Goodbid brushes off easily. “And Mr. Goodbid works alone, I ain’t got friends other than Death himself.”

Glib growls, but knows there’s no way to convince the half-elf. There never is. “Why are you here anyway? Aren’t your stomping grounds Riftreach and east of it?”

“Yeah, but I heard a rumor of this dope ass horse that walks the town at night.” The taller looks at him with a cheesy grin. “And I want him.”

“Her,” Glib corrects, “And you can’t be serious, you came all the way out here to try to catch a horse?”

“What? I’m a man of style and that white horse is stylin’!” Goodbid jokes. He snuffs the end of his cigar on the brick wall as the sun disappears over the horizon.

“Let me get this straight, your plan is to what? Stake out here until a pretty white pony comes prancing through town and then you are going to try and what? Catch her?” he questions, his irritation at the plan slipping into his words.

He has to admit that it does sound like something that he would do.

Every iteration of him always loved horses, and Milburn, the reincarnation before Goodbid, had a gorgeous brown and white horse that he lost on the coast just east of Bowenburg. The horse was given to him by his father the Friday before his death, so Milburn named her Friday and treated her like royalty, often better than he even treated himself, so losing her was the worst thing imaginable for him. For nearly ten full years, Milburn searched for that horse day and night, begging Glib every night to promise him that Friday hadn’t died yet and that there was still time. The search for her killed the half-elf, but the horse never did die. Well. The horse, unless she gained immortality through magical means, died sometime after Milburn, but Glib pointedly refused to check because an angry part of him would try to take his wrath out on an innocent horse who got spooked in the middle of the night and ran off.

Distantly, Glib wonders if Goodbid’s infatuation with this infamous white horse is the past echoing through him.

“Hey now,” the mustached man begins, bringing the shorter out of his train of thought, “I thought you promised me you ain’t a mind reader!”

“Goodbid,” Glib groans, using a bit of irritation to mask the fear that he would lose this reincarnation to horse hunting as well.

He laughs. “What? I think it’s an excellent plan, thank ya very much.”

The Death God levels a flat look at him before shaking his head and stepping back towards the shadows, drawing his hood up.

“She doesn’t come out until about two,” Glib explains. “You might want to sleep until then.”

Without hesitation Goodbid sits down in the alleyway with his back to the brick wall.

“What- no- I meant-” the Death God sputters.

“I ain’t gonna spend money on a bed if I’ll just have to kill the staff that sees me,” Goodbid, ever the penny pincher and hitman, reasons. “I ain’t exactly supposed to be in Bowenburg.”

“And the better option is to just sleep in the alleyway?” Glib questions, gesturing to the many ways that he could be spotted and captured.

Goodbid just smiles up at him. “But my guardian angel wouldn’t let that happen, would he?” he asks cheekily, already settling against the wall and closing his eyes.

“I’m not your fucking guardian angel!” the shorter retorts, but it doesn’t come out as hostile as he intended it to.

“Then why are you always here for me?” Goodbid questions, sleep edging into his voice.

Glib is silent for several minutes, as he watches the other’s chest rise and fall until it evens out into sleep before he answers. “Because you’ve always been here for me.”

Despite himself, the human mutters a small spell that would redirect anyone’s attention away from the alley, fulfilling his role as guardian angel as he settles against the opposite wall, alternating between watching the half-elf sleep and watching the empty streets of the college town.

A chill settles in the air after a while, causing Glib to drape his cloak over the sleeping man to keep him from shivering in his dreams before he tilts his head back and bathes in the cold air as it blows across his icy skin. He lets his eyes drift up to the sky and traces over the stars that have been named and renamed by every new generation of scholars.

He thinks about old times when he and Lawerence- no, it was Naethan then- used to star gaze. The half-elf would name the stars and constellations easily before asking Glib for their old names, and in every language the old god could think of.

He stares silently at the sky until his mind inevitably wanders into the song that seems to live within his brain.

“Lily, o’ lily of my valley won’t you stay the summer long?” he sings softly, remembering the first time he sang it to Goodbid.

“Fall leaves me tired and winter is cold without the sweet ring of your bells to keep my body warm.”

Although he had been Plutos at the time.

“Your lips are poison and your love leaves me dizzy, o’ lily of my valley, won’t you just kiss me?”

He had been so nervous to show him the words, worried he’d understand what it actually meant.

“Summer grows near, your time comes to an end, and until springtime, I can’t kiss you again.”

But Plutos was none the wiser.

“Lily, o’ lily of my valley can’t you stay this summer long?”

He had asked Glib to sing it to him whenever he was upset, like a lullaby.

“Lily, o’ lily of my valley, I will miss you while you’re gone.”

And he had it sung to him on his deathbed.

“Beautiful song,” Goodbid says groggily as he sits up, causing Glib to jump.

“Jesus!” he hisses.

“Nope, just Goodbid, but I’ll give it to ya, Mr. Death, you were pretty close,” Goodbid teases.

Glib swallows the uneasy feeling of being called “Mr. Death,” but it’s not like this Goodbid knows any better. Glib stopped telling them his name in hopes that one day he would remember on his own.

“What time is it, anyway?” the half-elf asks, stretching like a cat, the Death God’s cloak pooling in his lap as it falls off his shoulders. “Do I got time to catch a few more Z’s?”

Glib looks back to the sky, tracking the moon. “No, your internal clock was fucking spot on,” the Death God mutters. “It’s nearly 2 a.m. exactly.”

“Well, hot-diggity-dog!” he says with a manic grin. “Well, let’s get on movin’!” He stands up, straightening his clothes and mustache as he throws the cloak back over the short man.

“Mustache, do you even have a clue where you’re going?” Glib says as he steps out of the alley behind Goodbid.

“Not even a little,” he says as he weaves through the streets. “But I’m sure I’ll know it when I see it.”

“Goodbid,” Glib growls. “Tell me you actually have a-”

As if cued in by Glib’s annoyance, the sound of hooves clopping on the stone roads draws both their attention.

Before the Death God can stop him, Goodbid is racing towards the noise. The Death God follows close behind him, muttering swears in every language that he knows -which is all of them- as the tall man almost certainly runs headfirst into a guardsman on horseback.

They burst into a plaza, illuminated sparsely by floating magic lights, but standing in the center is a beautiful white horse with a long flowing mane that ends in electric green. She is larger than a normal horse and has an otherworldly calm about her. She stands patiently, white hair covering most of her eyes, before she turns and calmly trots away.

The pair stands gobsmacked for a little too long before Goodbid is back to running after her. A feeling washes over Glib that tells him something is amiss here. This horse has never allowed herself to be seen so clearly by anyone before, only flashes of white hooves and green tails trotting between streets. The fact that she let them see her leaves a funny taste in the old god’s mouth.

“Goodbid!” Glib hisses as he too runs after them. “Something isn’t right!”

“Not now, Death!” Goodbid whisper-shouts back. “We’re hot on her tail!”

Glib makes an annoyed sound but resolves to ignore his discomfort as they weave through the streets. They’re right behind her, step for step, and seemingly gaining on her, until they burst back into the open plaza from before, and the white horse is nowhere in sight.

“Damn it!” Goodbid swears. “I thought we had her!”

Glib scans the streets as he mutters, “This is probably for the best.”

Goodbid sighs dramatically. “Why can’t I have a snazzy horse?” he jokingly pouts, though Glib can spot the genuine disappointment in his face.

“Because I don’t think that was a normal horse,” Glib explains looking back up at the taller. “Trust me, something was up with her.”

“Well, now, I personally think a bounty hunter riding a ghost horse would be even cooler than a bounty hunter riding a pretty white horse-”

“Goodbid-”

Their little “argument” is cut short by the sound of hooves, though this time they are moving much faster and growing louder instead of softer.

The pair look around frantically before spotting the white horse barreling at them with her head low.

“Shit, shit, shit-” Glib screams as the massive horse hooks her head between Goodbid’s legs, throwing him onto her back and biting into the Death God’s cloak, lifting him easily off the ground.

A white and green mist forms around them as the horse continues barreling forward before in a flash of white -and a wave of nausea- they are suddenly somewhere else.

It resembles a weird amalgamation of Riftreach and Bowenburg, with the sleek style of Bowenburg buildings and the layout and height of Riftreach. The streets are impossibly clean and the sky is blindingly white, bathing the entire area in the same otherworldly glow that surrounds the horse.

Glib roars in anger, more at the audacity of the animal bringing them here than the fact that they are actually here. Thick black fog begins to billow from his cloak as his skin turns ghostly transparent, revealing his skeleton. His eyes become unearthly black as a sickly grey and poisonous purple swirl around his hands, but before he can fire off any of the spells he has, the horse drops him flat on his back.

“That will not be necessary,” the horse says, her voice carrying that same ethereal calm that surrounds her.

“You fucking talk?!” he shrieks, rage still boiling in his blood.

The horse gives him a flat look. “Yes, I am Friday, the Goddess of Fate, and I can talk.”

“Friday?” Glib echoes, bewildered. He stares expectantly at the horse for answers, but she offers none. Surely this can’t be the same horse, but the name is too convenient.

Goodbid awkwardly slides off her back and helps Glib stand up before half-hiding behind him. “Ms. Friday, this ain’t some kinda punishment for trying to catch you, is it? Because I didn’t know you were a sentient horse, and I do treat my horses quite well-”

“No, Mr. Goodbid, it is no punishment, I just needed to step in to make sure what needed to happen, happened,” she says to silence his ramblings.

“And how’d you reckon that?” Goodbid asks, a naturally curious man.

“Your vanity and love for horses would surely draw you to Bowenburg if you heard of an impossible-to-catch white horse,” she explains simply.

Goodbid is silent for a long moment before nodding slowly. “Well, now, I guess there’s no use in arguin’ with a goddess of fate now is there?”

Friday laughs, though it sounds more like church bells ringing. “No, no, there is not, I know what is fated to happen so I know what has already happened.”

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds about right,” Glib sighs.

“So, what are we here for then?” Goodbid questions. “You say you brought us here to make sure fate don’t change, but I don’t see much changin’.” He gestures around them before looking more closely for seemingly the first time. “And, uh, where is ‘here’?”

The goddess shakes her head. “Walk with me,” she says simply, as she begins trotting towards a large building at the end of the street.

“Well, you heard her,” Goodbid says after a moment of vaguely confused silence before he begins to march after her, Glib reluctantly following.

“This is a place known as the Order Realm,” Friday explains. “It is much like the Death Realm that your friend there comes from.” Goodbid looks at Glib before turning his attention back to the horse. “The Primordial of Order once lived here, but was killed by their creator, the Nothing. Butinstead of letting their power be destroyed, they and their seven siblings -in their respective realms- created thrones which would distribute power to any mortal who sits in them.”

They have reached a tall white cathedral with green and grey stained glass windows. Friday easily trots up the stairs and into the building, walking towards a strange-looking chair at the far side. It’s made of metal and gears with tubes full of green liquid running up and down the sides.

“The four possible powers of Order are Fate, taken by me; Peace, taken by an older God named Vaktaan; Knowledge, taken by a man named Aldor; and Law,” she stops speaking as she reaches the throne before looking at Goodbid. “Who is meant to be claimed by you.”

“Me?” Goodbid asks, stopping nearly ten feet away from the chair. “Why me?”

Friday gets a pensive look to her face, well, as pensive as a horse can be. She looks at Glib, but only for a moment before carefully saying, “Fate works in mysterious ways, and you are fated to be with another immortal.”

“Ain’t no way an immortal would choose to be with me,” the half-elf counters. “I’m just Mr. Goodbid.”

Glib snickers at that, earning a confused look from the taller. “You have no idea, do you, Bid?”

“Mr. Death, are you telling me that you’ve been holding information back from me?” Goodbid asks, sounding more betrayed than accusatory.

Friday steps in to save Glib needing to explain. “He has only withheld information that you would discover in due time, as you have every time.”

Goodbid stares at her for a long moment. “What do you mean ‘as you have every time’?”

“Sit on the throne and everything will become clear,” she says, gesturing at the chair with her head.

“Why should I trust you?” Goodbid counters, resting his palm on the hilt of his short swords. “You’ve done nothin’ but kidnap me and my friend and talk in damn riddles.”

“Goodbid,” Glib says. “Trust her, sit on the chair.”

“I thought you had a bad feelin’ ‘bout this!” The hitman snaps back.

Glib tries to stay calm as he explains. “I had a bad feeling because you came to catch a magic horse with no plan and we were actively being led into a trap to get us here.” They hold intense eye contact for another few seconds before Glib says, “You’ve said it yourself, you aren’t afraid of death.” Another few seconds of silence before the death god growls, “Sit on the throne.”

Goodbid looks between Glib, Friday, and the chair for another few seconds before hissing, “Fine, what’s the worst that can happen?”

He walks over to the throne with a clearly fake confidence and sits down on it, crossing his arms.

For about three seconds, nothing happens, but then the gears begin turning, and the sound of metal clicking rings through the air. The liquid in the tube swirls and pumps faster before metal arms on either side of the chair clasp down onto him. The room fills with blinding white and green light.

“What the shit?!” Glib yelps, stepping forward, mind racing on ways to get the half-elf free before all the noise comes to a stop, and the metal arms slowly retract.

Sitting in the chair is still the half-elf, though his suit is now white with a green tie and pinstripes. He looks around, mildly confused, flexing his hands as he tries to adjust to the increase of power.

“I’ll leave the two of you alone,” Friday says, as she turns and begins walking towards the doors at the far end. “You’ll have much to speak of.”

“So,” Glib says, drawing his attention to him once the horse is gone. The light of recognition dances in the taller’s eyes, yet it’s different from five minutes ago. “How do you feel?”

“Glib?” he says instead.

The human’s stomach drops, and butterflies erupt, the contrasting feelings nearly knocking him off his feet.

“No,” the death god says, deep in denial as hope blooms in his chest. “No fucking way you remember.”

The half-elf grins at him, though it’s not the typical smile of his persona. It’s a genuine smile that softens his eyes in a way that makes the human’s heart speed up and time slow down. “Glib Murphy,” he says slowly, as if savoring the way the name fits in his mouth. “I remember you- well, I remember everything, but most importantly, I remember you.”

“Lawrence?” Glib says quietly. The hope spreads like fire through his veins and settles like hot coals in his hands. He wants- no- needs to lay his hands on the half-elf, but he can’t bring himself to move, as if he is afraid that if he moves too quickly, or speaks too loudly, this moment will shatter and his Lawrence will return to being “Mr. Goodbid”.

“That’s the name, Mr. Murphy.” He holds open his arms as he adds, “And I hope you’ll wear it out.”

Glib’s legs are moving before his brain comprehends it, and he crashes headlong into the taller’s open arms.

“I swear to fucking god if you die and I lose you for another two-hundred fucking years-” Glib says into Lawerence’s new white suit.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere, Glib,” he soothes. “I’ll stay the summer long.”

[dark-nimbus]

We said what we said, Panda 😂

[glibussy]

D&Dorks valentines i never posted

[anxious-assembly]

Ive gotta ask, how many people have submitted Glib (d&dorks)?

three