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cloudbattrolls · 11 months

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It's Too Cliché

Crista Condyl | A Remote Beach | Present Night

Crista brooded over their coffee cup. Well. They sulked, more like, but let them have this. They deserved it. They needed it.

The wizard leaned back in the old but comfortable recliner. They were currently in a little rentable beach cottage they liked to return to when they could, since it was often empty.

If it wasn’t when they got there, they could activate their ward on the place that made whoever was there pack their things and get going in a hurry, manifesting an illusion of whatever problem with the hive would get them going fastest by using their subconscious fears as a base.

The little wooden building wasn’t the nicest place - hence why it was often empty - and yet another draft came whistling through the poorly insulated walls, but a few wards for warmth and protection made it safe and comfortable enough. They couldn’t do too much - didn’t want to attract attention from any other passing magic users, even if the chance was low.

Or worse and much more likely, undead.

Ghosts were easily kept out, but a horde of zombies was a slightly bigger issue.

They sighed, taking a sip of the hot beverage, just having poured it from the place’s coffeemaker. The blend was good, at least; they’d bought it with money from their last job. Nice and smooth, with tones of hazelnut.

Often they liked tea, but right now? Right now was a coffee moment, for sure and absolute certain. The heels of their lavender boots drummed against the floor as they considered their situation.

Two! Two crazy…attachments!

As if one wasn’t enough. At least the first one could just be put down to Catill being unfairly gorgeous and talented. Who wouldn’t be a bit smitten with a woman that impressive and a little frightening to boot?

But there was no way to explain away Kormut as anything but. That.

Pale feelings.

Ugh.

A blueblood! A ruddy blueblood of all things! Didn’t that cap it all. Granted, he was hardly typical…but still. He’d far outlive them. They could hardly go out together without getting looks for what a ridiculous caste gap there was.

Even thinking about that was crazy! Kormut probably didn’t see them that way at all. What a silly thought. They’d look so stupid if they told him how they felt.

‘Oh hello, Kormut dear, I’ve fallen in pale with you. Want to go out for dinner? Presuming we can get you to a restaurant without major injury or the food all spoiling on arrival.’

He’d be nice about it, but probably confused, trying to let them down gently. Ughhh, so awkward!

Catill…

She’d made that little world for them, hadn’t she? Such a beautiful place…so well done, so well lit and that gorgeous sky, the detail on those lanterns…had she really meant it as…?

If she had - oh gods, what were they supposed to do? Try to impress her again? What if it failed? What if they were assuming too much?

Well. If they had, they’d just…laugh it off! That’s right. Everything could be laughed off. Haha, whoops, I thought you might be flush-flirting! With me! Haha, that’s sure a funny mistake I made, oopsie daisy, my bad. Please don’t rot my brain.

But if they were right…

Catill. Gathering mushrooms. Casting a spell. Moonlight shining pink and green on her white hair. That tiny little curled part of her horns that seemed so delicate. The way her face looked when she teased them…they wanted a closer view of that expression.

Crista coughed on their drink, hot brown liquid dousing the back of their throat and arcing back into their warm cream mug patterned with daisies.

Women, perpetually their undoing.

Well, in for beetle, in for a caeger. Even if they were imagining things, might as well have fun, right? Plus, they had an idea…

They finished off their coffee and decided to retire for the night, but they knew what they’d do next evening, right after breakfast.

—

“Oh, boo.” They complained, down on their hands and knees among the beach’s rocks and tide pools, the damp sand clinging to their bare skin and clothes. “There has to be some somewhere! Right? Surely everyone didn’t take it all already…”

They squinted through their glasses, which were after all supposed to help with their farsightedness, and which they suspected might need a prescription update sometime, since they had neglected it for…almost a sweep.

Of course, it couldn’t be anywhere that used an imperial database. That was the bother of it, and of so many other things.

Oh, sure, they had fake IDs and the like, they could fog a mind or two…but you never knew what sort of mind readers, empaths, or nullifiers such a place might have on staff. They had a good read on magical energy, but their own psi being so weak, they weren’t much good at sniffing out how powerful someone else might be on that way.

“What are you looking for, fellow?”

They looked up, ears flicking in alarm as they startled from the sudden voice.

Oh, that was a tall oliveblood.

They didn’t know greens got that gangly - well, gangly wasn’t the right word, this person was stouter and curvier than that.

They had a nice voice, too, fairly deep and mellow, and their hair was…red, huh. Dyed, clearly, they could see the black roots, but red nonetheless.

They also wore sunglasses, even though it was a cloudy night.

Well, whatever. Some people had things to hide, other trolls just liked the aesthetic, silly as it looked.

“Sea glass, seen any?” Crista saw no reason to lie; this person didn’t seem aggressive.

Not yet, anyway.

“Hmm, no, sorry.” They genuinely sounded a bit apologetic. “What do you need it for?”

“Uh.” They paused. “I want to make a sort of…miniature fountain thing…for a friend. I thought pieces of it would be good decoration, nice for lights to shine through.”

The midblood put a hand - with red claw polish - to their mouth as they laughed delightedly.

“Sweet thing to do! I’ll help you look if you do me a favor; you haven’t seen any trolls with jade pins around here, have you? Ones shaped like crowns?”

Crista shuddered. “Absolutely not, and if I had I’d scarper. Don’t ever want to tangle with those…people.” The rust said, with the clear impression that they would have happily used a different and far more negative noun.

“Smart! Now this one’s stranger, but bear with me; how about mannequins? Any clothes mannequins in places they shouldn’t be?”

Crista startled. “Thought that was just some urban legend rubbish. You’re telling me it’s true?”

“Not sure yet.” The tall troll said casually. “So you haven’t?”

“I’ve seen one from a distance in the woods one time…I thought it was just a prank.” They admitted.

“Maybe so.” Replied the olive amicably. “Either way, thanks. So where do you want me to look?”

“Uh.” Crista was surprised the olive was holding up their end of the deal, and blinked a few times.

“Er, over at the other end of the beach would be helpful, I haven’t looked down there yet. Um, thanks.” They added as they gestured with a pointer finger, somewhat awkward but sincere.

“It’s nothing.” Said the green, laughing again as they turned and walked the other way down the strip of sand.

Crista realized the troll hadn’t given their name, but well, they hadn’t given theirs either. Not that the carefree midblood seemed too fussed either way.

They kept looking, but only found a few small pieces, and sighed. At least they’d picked up a half-dozen nice shells, too…they brushed the sand off their hands and stuck them into the cold sea for a few moments, then shook them off.

The olive came back with - with - heavens, how had they possibly found that much? Sea glass of multiple colors glimmered in their hands, easily over a dozen pieces of it.

“Wh -“ Crista sputtered, honestly a little jealous, adjusting their glasses to make sure they were seeing correctly. “How? Are you psychic? What’s your secret?”

The midblood laughed again. “Nothing very dramatic, I promise.”

They handed it over, the smooth pieces pouring out of their darker-skinned hands into Crista’s pale ones as the maroon blinked in disbelief. The wizard put them in their sylladex with the others, noting that the other troll hadn’t answered their question.

Definitely a strange one…but they supposed they shouldn’t question someone who had helped them for the low price of answering two questions.

The olive nodded cheerfully, then turned and began to walk away. Crista watched them go…then called out.

“Wait, I…what IS your name?”

“Djimin.” Said the troll easily.

“Thank you, Djimin.”

They tipped their head with a fond smile, and then walked away further, vanishing from the maroon’s sight.

Crista looked up at the moons, the pink one a mere sliver, the green one soft and gibbous.

Moonlight on white hair. Moonlight on water. Moonlight streaming through glass, as if it were a current unto its own, particle and wave and liquid all at once.

They hoped their idea would be enough.

—

Keeping the water starry had stumped them for a hot minute, but what did any wizard worth their salt do? Cheat.

In this case, enchant the water to draw a reflection from water on whatever part of the planet was currently experiencing nighttime.

Said water flowed from a pot Catill herself had made from the clay they’d found and shared with her, looping up and back down into it in an infinite spiral.

When she’d given it to them, it had been the first time their face had warmed because of the yellowblood…

Ack! So sappy. Why did she do this to them?

Well. That wasn’t exactly a mystery…she was everything a witch should be. Powerful. Ruthless. Imperious.

Beautiful.

Kind to them. Even though she was so much stronger.

Crista looked at their own rippling reflection in the water. Not bad. Not amazing, either. So-so, but it was amazing what a little confidence and some magical talent did for you…

Among ordinary trolls. For her, it would require more.

They swallowed a sip of ordinary water from a glass, then prepared to speak the final spell to complete the piece they had planned. It didn’t do to go dry-mouthed in the middle of an incantation.

Everything was laid out on the worn wooden table in front of them, the old brown thing a bit rotted and worn by the sweeps and salt air. But it still held, and would for a while longer.

They looked at the page they had written it on, at the sea glass carefully placed in the appropriate sections of a magical array. Their maroon eyes wandered over the shells they had gathered, and the crystallized mana they had borrowed - from Catill - to aid in this spell and make sure they wouldn’t pass out after casting it.

Crista had even cleansed themself with saltwater beforehand, and said a quiet prayer to the spirits they hoped were listening.

One night they’d hear them again. Right?

“O éiríonn uiscí agus fite fuaite le chéile, ag éirí mar ghloine go scarann tú arís…”

Gaelige. Of all the languages they knew - though many only in bits and pieces - it felt right for this spell. These were the words of making.

Words through which magic flowed, pouring through reality to mingle with the mundane and elevate it to so much more.

As they spoke, the simple clay container unfolded into a miniature fountain. It became three-tiered, decorated with small leaping cats and perching parrots, the baked earth turning a rich golden yellow.

The sea glass all melded together and adhered to it in decorative engravings in its many shimmering blues and greens, delicately accenting the animals’ eyes, along with the tips of their fur and feathers. The shell covered the edges of the tiers, in soft pearlescent and striped-brown hues.

The water itself could turn to starry glass with a simple command, capturing the constellation that its water reflected at the time. Yet it could also be returned to the flow and become its native shape again.

If someone who so happened to be skilled with light shined their power through the liquid…

It would radiate like a galaxy.

Crista breathed heavily, sweating with effort despite their preparations. Oh…that had taken…

They sat down heavily on the old recliner again. They could stay awake, but only barely.

Perhaps Catill would have to wait a little longer, just a bit…but what a present they’d have for her.

Something made by - and at its best with - both their talents.

Magic was better when shared, after all.

#cloud writes #crista condyl #nyzere olorik #behold: magic and gayness #the drabble #squidward voice: down bad tonight aren't we

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i-am-nickelbolt · 2 years

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The Brothers' War Bronze to Mythic, draft #5!

Whenever I do poorly in a draft on Arena, I always get this thought like, "Whelp, that's it for me, I'm never going to win a game again and all my gold and gems will disappear." And I know that's silly, I have a 64% win rating in limited since I started using 17lands a few years back. I am a good drafter and I will win again.

Pack 1, pick 1 Phyrexian Dragon Engine. The wheel for this pack is going to be bad. Pick 2 Hajar, Loyal Bodyguard over Corrupt, Blanchwood Prowler, and Wing Commando. Double R on the dragon unearth put me off Corrupt, but maybe that was just wrong. It seems like I've always been able to get an Elsewhere Flask. Pick 3 Scatter Ray over Hulking Metamorph, Wing Commando, and Deadly Riposte. Pick 4 Combat Courier over Yotian Tactician, Overwhelming Remorse, and Prison Sentence. I ran out of time on this pick. Pick 5 Giant Cindermaw, which felt like a signal that red might be open but there just weren't any good red cards. Pick 6 Scrapwork Mutt over Scatter Ray. Pick 7 Scrapwork Rager over Elsewhere Flask, which was a last second choice. Pick 8 Gaea's Gift over nothing. Pick 9 Branchwood Prowler wheeled, which I did not expect. Also got a Giant Growth and an Argothian Sprite, which kind of pulled me back towards green-red.

Pack 2 all of the green cards wheeled, but other than the Skyfisher Spider, it was a pretty mediocre pack overall. Pack 3 went really well, with multiple burn spells, the Arbalest Engineers... I did punt on a Blitz Automaton, which i didn't see in the pack, but I would have liked the option of a nice 7 drop, and with all my combat tricks, a hasty 3/2 would have been fine too.

I originally thought my deck was great, but the more I looked at it, the more I felt like it was just a bunch of mediocre creatures, especially at 3 and 4. I also just thought Fallaji Chaindancer had double strike naturally. Whoops.

My first loss was to Urza, Prince of Kroog. I couldn't for the life of me draw a removal spell. That said, I was really not impressed with what else was going on in their deck, it was just they had uncontested Urza and I couldn't break through.

My second loss was to GW. Their draw lined up pretty well against mine. I think I might be underrating Warlord's Elite. It seemed more like filler and I think it's maybe a C+? At least it seems like it's always been good against me. I guess I don't see the games where it rots in their hand when they can't cast it early. Anyway, I think I messed up a block late in the game and they topdecked me when we were at parity. I was 2-2 at this point and really feeling the mediocre creatures.

I should also point out that I misread Phyrexian Dragon Engine. I forgot entirely about the Unearth trigger. I was trying to go for a Giant Growth shot for 10, but the game didn't let me respond to it's etb. So I had to decline and they had a removal spell. Disaster! I still won that game though.

My other loss was to a "mirror," where we traded off all game, except they had Ironclaw Crusher, which notably has 6 toughness, with Audacity, and I only had 5 power with which to block. I died with two Unleash Shells in my hand that I couldn't even cast because I drew the maindeck Swamp I played instead of the Mountain it would have been had I not splashed.

5-3 was okay with this deck. I seemed to be in the "Bant colors" bracket, and I was really hoping the Argothian Sprites would be unblockable more often. I saw zero black cards in 8 games, and the red cards I saw out of the two blue-red decks I played were not impressive.

#the brothers' war #bronze to mythic #premier draft #mtglimited #magic arena #magic the gathering

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themadauthorshatter · 2 years

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This has been in my drafts for a while and sorry it took so long to post

RED QUEEN OTP SWAP PART 3!!

We begin with Cal being primmed and propered up for a ceremony after Kingstrial, as he is now made to marry Gisa.

Mostly, he cleans himself and dresses himself, but the servants make sure THEY wash his hair and remove all the grime before drying him off and painting him so he's outtake and dress him to the nines in Calore colors.

When they try to take some cheap metal bracelets Iris, Tiora, amd Maven chipped in to get him, he panics and recovers enough to order them to leave the bracets.

Good because, as Mare puts it, they suit him.

Cal panicks slightly, as he's alone with the crown princess, who he's also a little annoyed at because she can't do anything about his situation. Mare admits that she wants Cal to go home too, but she can't mainly because everyone knows about him now and most of them want him dead.

Speaking of dead, if anyone finds out about his being a Red and not a Silver, that's how he'll end up in a heartbeat, him and his family and friends. Can he write to them? No, too risked.

Mare apologizes and wishes him luck for the night because he'll need it.

She leaves, Cal suits up in red and black, and is escorted to the lift that leads him to Samson, who gives him the run down that he was born in the war and taken in by a Red man who'd lost his son and wife. He was raised without knowing who he is. The rest is history.

Cal asks what Samson wants with him, but Samson only tells him to not screw up or die, giving him an extra migraine for motivation.

Samson leaves Cal to stand with the royal family and Daniel stands before them all to give a grand speech on how the Kingstrial brought forth a miracle, one in the form of the long lost child of the beloved Tiberias Calore VI: one Tiberias Calore VII, who everyone watches as he descends the stairs and sits beside the Samos family.

Ptolemus is not amused, btw, and it gets worse when Cal and Gisa exchange vows and swear themselves to each other. Cal is upset more than ever because now there ia no going home.

Unsurprising to ANYONE, Ptolemus is chosen as Mare's husband and they exchange their vows, though Ptolemus doesn't just threaten to cut Cal apart, no. He grabs his wrist and squeezes hard enough to cut off circulation, making a ring of metal that is razor sharp and almost slices of Cal's hand.

He lets go instead and Cal is all too relieved; healers be damned, he would not like to lose a hand, please and thank you.

Thankfully, Ptolemus decides to not cut his hand, or cut him, and the rest of the evening goes as it usually does, with dinner, though Cal actually makes himself eat and is laughed at by Ptolemus because he keeps using the cutlery wrong by switching his hands, he's slouching, and is eating loke a starved dog.

He also loses his mind for a moment after some alcohol that Gisa takes away and replaces with water, despite the objections from Cal.

She also apologizes for what's happened and admits that now she knows how Mare feels because she didn't have a choice in who she would marry.

Cal is not happy at the pity and tells her that she wouldn't know hardship even if it beat her and left her to rot. Gisa admits that, no, she wouldn't, but that doesn't mean Silvers have it totally easy, as proven by the Kingstrial.

The events continue as usual, but the king and queen actually share a room this time, and the princesses escort the boys the bed, though Cal is steadily going insane from the anxiety and Mare is of little comfort because she tells him to be a little careful because there are cameras everywhere excpt that bathroom, though it is wire tapped.

Gee, great. Thanks, Mare.

Cal does get a schedule, and does get picked on because he was raised in the dirt, and he gets etiquette lessons, and sees Mare and Gisa whoop ass in training. He is scolded for his untimely-ness and taught how to stand, walk, sleep, greet people, properly use cutlery, and what the high houses and their names are before luncheon.

A a few more Kingstrial contestants are there, and they're not happy to see him, i.e. Olover Laris and Stralian Haven, who are a little pissed to have not been as lucky as he was.

Also here is the Panther Ara Iral, who's visiting with her grandson Reynald, who sees Cal has bronze eyes as opposed the the previous Calore Lord's and Lady's silver-gray.

Thankfully, Daniel gets their attention and Ruth escorts Ara away.

Afterwards, Gisa assures him that there will be no trouble, and he's off to meet another mentor: Willis Farely(the colonel, for those wondering), who Cal is surprised to see, and for good reason because he's a bit of a surprise among Reds and Silvers due to being the child of a Red and a Silver.

He also knows Cal is a Red with powers and only wants to help him understand himself, thank goodness because Cal would like answers, please and thank you.

#red queen #otp swap #cal calore #tiberias calore vii #mare barrow #gisa barrow #'long post'

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officialspec · 5 years

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the main characters for my first ocverse!! lore info under the cut

basic worldbuilding

dimensional weavers - mali (first dimension) figra (second) and viva (third). dominus/dominic (time) is a babie

moralities - guardians of life. dedicated to keeping a balance of stability/cycles and change/growth in the world. imperceptible to the human eye

archangels - messiah (stability) and (unnamed change archangel whoops)

greater angels - these include most depictions of gods in human history, messengers for the moralities and (usually) advocates for humanity

lesser angels - elementals, ‘demons’, minor spirits

half angels - human ghosts, tied to earth by obligation or connection

fallen angels - stripped of their wings for being unable to fulfil their born purpose, souls and blood are usually rotted and viscous. usually animalistic, single-minded and non-communicative, messiah is an exception because of their goal-orientation and high position on the heirarchy. still pretty unhinged tho

imps - bastards. not associated with the heirarchy

what happens

everything runs fine until messiahs superiority complex corrupts/changes them and they become fallen + sentenced to die

this disrupts the moralities’ balance and knocks the timeline off-course

dom is like. wtf. and gets thrown out of his dimension into the Physical Space. messiah hides in the space between dimensions and builds new wings out of void. its like the 1500s on earth at this point

as soon as dominic wakes up from being thrown into existence and reconnects to the timeline they become very aware that messiah is eventually going to hunt down and hill him which is just a real bummer

he also isnt supposed to be more than like. a Concept so he basically feels like shit all the time, and he doesnt have the power to go back so hes stuck on earth building his strength back up

the timeline break fucks up a bunch of stuff. a half written draft for a small civilisation comes into existence

half of the buildings are incomplete (think like video game glitch) and most people dont have memories of their life until this point or a family history, but they make do. a boy without any family is taken in by a man and his daughter

beau and marie grow up as siblings for ~18 years before dominic tracks down the half-formed civilisation

dominics nature values the order of events and balance more than anything else, and hes forced to destroy everything

fucks it up so badly. just reaped a whole garden of whoopsie daisies on this one

creates this beetle from another half written draft thats meant to spawn under an animals skin, where the larva then kills the host and exits as a fully formed beetle (think like bot flies but super fucked up)

the beetle larva has unexpected supernatural side effects, grossly disfiguring the hosts before they die (extra limbs, eyes, vertebrae, etc)

marie dies, beau survives by gouging his own eye out before the beetle is fully grown. maries ghost is tied to her brother so she cant move on but she cant find him either

the side effects are still affecting beau as if the larva is in his body, and the process refuses to let him die until receiving the chemical signal that the beetle is ready to emerge. his body is effectively in stasis forever

beau gets caught by other humans and kept in captivity, eventually being abandoned in his chains to starve for. several centuries. he still cant die

finally emerges when the chains rust enough to break under pressure. the trauma and long period alone have essentially erased his memory and when marie finally tracks him down again he doesnt remember her

like really dom fucked this up so badly

marie meets dominic, he confesses to who he is/what he did and she promptly beats the living shit out of him

beau enters a community for ex/non-humans and lives for 15 years surrounded by friends+loved ones while slowly getting back his memories of his family

while hes sleeping dominic takes the larvae’s effects out of his body and finally lets him die. marie’s new tie to the earth is getting justice for him

meanwhile messiah has been experimenting with making themself ‘pure’ again. one of these experiments involves injecting humans with angel blood to turn them into angels with. no success. the only one that didnt immediately die fell within the hour.

after every experiment they test their blood by clawing at themself (they have a lot of scars covered up by the hoodie)

its mad fuckedt up and a lot of people either die or have their memories wiped by dominic

in a last ditch effort to ‘save’ themself, messiah decides to replace their soul with dominics since hes trapped on earth and weavers are impartial by design and logically cant be corrupted

dominic-messiah confrontation. dominic puts on a front but is still resigned to his fate. messiah decapitates him and tears his body apart to take his soul

as soon as they touch it corruption starts spreading over it. theyre absolutely enraged about this and decide to take it out on the earth

the loss of time’s weaver has heavy effects on spacetime and massive tears open up everywhere. absolute chaos

basically the end of the world happens here and i wrote like 5 pages of a webcomic about it but it nevr really took off lol

i would like to eventually pick it back up w marie as the main character. she absolutely deserves it bro shes been thru so much

thats all i have so far!! its super long but ive been working on this for like. 4-5 yrs at least. thanx for reading

#oc #ocs #messiah #dominic #beau delecom #marie delecom #moralityverse #my art #refs #there is so much. gd information in this im so sorry #none of this is meant 2 be a metaphor for anything btw its just stuff i thought was dope when i was 13 #some ppl probably alrdy read this stuff on my oc blog but Here It Is Again #anyway stan marie she did nothing wrong #decapitation tw #eye horror tw #eye trauma tw #death tw #body horror tw

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verfound · 5 years

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(Pfffft went to post this yesterday and it saved to my drafts instead. Whoops. I can’t even blame Tumblr on that - I was so dead most of Saturday I probably did just go “Well-p, Drafts, here ya go~!”. xD )

Christmas Break is heeeeere~

Y'all I feel like I've been hit with a sledgehammer. Or a truck. Or both. But I survived, and writing is happening today. (The week wasn't even hard - all my free time just got gobbled up by a gingerbread house for the Christmas party yesterday. And a cold that I'm refusing to acknowledge, but that's probably the sledgehammar. xD)

Yeah. Gingerland.

So for our Christmas party/monthly potluck, I did a gingerbread house with a custom gingerman for everyone in the cafeteria (including our janitor, who deals with all our garbage and is a saint for as much as we rag on him.

So Dan is our dish guy who will be 60 the day after Christmas. Dan also fell off our loading dock Tuesday (a good five foot drop). Dan is PERFECTLY FINE because he knew how to "tuck and roll". While we were panicking over him, he said, "It's ok - I got Jesus on my side, and Jesus don't let those He loves get hurt." I just looked at him & said, "...Daniel," like he's not old enough to be my dad, "Jesus let His best friend rot in the grave long enough to stink to prove a point. Jesus would totally let you get hurt to teach a lesson." And Dan looked at me and said, “But He still brought him back!” (Dan is a deacon at his church, and we get into little theological debates like this all the time. He’s from the “showers of blessings” tradition; I’m from the “Hey let’s talk about Paul’s FOUR SHIPWRECKS”/”Rom. 5:3-4 Diamonds” tradition. It’s glorious. I love it.)

But Dan is ok (we all thought the girl who saw it was joking bc she was laughing so hard - apparently he just bounced up like "I'M OK!"), and we've been ragging on him all week. Which is why his gingerman is falling off the roof. xD (I piped the men/trees/snowmen Wednesday, but the house got kinda rushed on Thursday ‘cause I tried to use icing instead of caramel to hold it together and it took for-freakin-ever to dry. Meh. They all loved it, though, so that’s what matters. Kathy even said she’s going to shellac hers to save it. 😊 )

#ver bakes #christmas #gingerbread #gingerbread house #so my hands are also DEAD from the hard water at work/weather/handwashing #they're like scaly and gross and deeply cracked and bleeding #so piping was a bitch bc HANDS #we're all looking forward to two weeks of non-constant handwashing so our hands can recover #the joys of food service

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forbidden-celestia-lore · 5 years

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so what's the haunted house then

well, thank you for asking, person who was definitely not sending this ask from their work computer!

first, bit of backstory: off the tail end of some Wizard Shenanigans, we followed a rider from the Whispering way to this tiny little fishing village, which has been experiencing a bit of Bad Luck for the last few months. The mayor personally welcomed us, hiring us to figure out what the fuck is up with the local church, one of a sea god, supposedly. We (read: Thela) broke into investigated this church, found… some headless bodies, a chest that smells like fish, some freaky ass carvings, a bloody altar, slugs that posses you and make your head explode (remember this one), and a giant spell casting crab monster. Suprise! it’s a cult. We go in the next day at noon like the chumps we are and get ambushed, killing a bunch of the priest/cultists, and finding some more Loot. We tell the mayor, and he tells us that the head priest disappeared into the woods a few days ago, heading off to some mansion thing. We want our money, and we may as well finish the job, so we pack up and follow.

Got all that? Great.

So we’re heading out to this random house in the woods, right, and my idea is that the head priest is part of the Whispering Way, cause we found the rider we were following headless in the slug room (don’t ASK me how that works), and that he was going out with a bunch of local contacts or smth to do Secret Plotting. So we get there, actually we haven’t really even “gotten” there yet, as the map hadn’t even been drawn when my dad asks us for a perception check, which we all of course fail. Or we think we’ve failed, because all he tells us is that we see a ripple on the nearby lake, putting us all on edge. A fitting start!

So we’re at this house, and I don’t think we’ve ever entered through the front door in our lives, which means that we pick the wing closest to the path we came in on and sneak up to it. I’m pretty sure my dad was internally screaming (or laughing, depending) at this point, because when we got in (undetected I might add!) and kinda sorta relaxed, and Jafar sat on the fucking couch a SWARM OF TICKS POURED OUT OF THE FUCKING COUCH. TICKS. So Celestia screams (literally, I had her do that canonically, would have totally ruined our stealth had there been anyone around to care) and runs out of the room, ducks through the first doorway she sees and immediately starts changing into her cultist disguise, in case someone did hear her and is coming. Thela climbs into the air using her immovable rods, Obezyana and Krono (who were by the door) run back outside after setting Jafar, who is now covered in ticks, on fire. And then from outside they do it again. And maybe one more time I’m not sure, but fire was the only thing we had that would hurt those ticks, until Obezyana had the legit bright idea to use color spray, which stuns every critter in a certain area. My dad was gracious enough to let him warn Thela, so she wasn’t affected, but the ticks were STUNNED and we LEFT as quickly as we could.

We regrouped in the main entry hall, Celestia now in her Whispering Way garb, and decided to look at the second wing before going into the main hall. All that was in that wing was an old storage room, where a fight of some sort had taken place recently, and we found a box that used to have a statue in it (the statue had been stolen from a museum, and we’d had to prove it wasn’t the beast Simon who stole it, but the Whispering Way, so we Knew they were here). We also found a horse! Clearly the horse the Whispering Way agent had ridden, but they’d been there for a few days without food or water or anything. We fed it, watered it, and made our way to the main hall.

On the map, the house was drawn as one big circle in the middle, representing the main hall, with two rectangles coming off of it at a little more than a 90* angle. It turns out that the house was constructed this way because the main support beams for the central structure were a fucking druid circle, creepy ass alter included. We actually found a secret compartment on the Cursed Altar that had a Big seed in it, which we did Not touch. At which point and actual literal Giant came through a door on the other side of the hall and asked us what we were doing. I, being the diplomat of the group, told everyone to shut up and pretended I was supposed to be there, can’t you see I’m part of your cult (which I wasn’t but I didn’t know that)? This sufficiently confused the giant, letting us march past him, except then we had to act like we knew what we were doing which meant that we went through the first door we saw, and of course it was the one with the Head Priest behind it. Thankfully he was merely a pathetic spellcaster (I say, a spellcaster), so we were able to subdue him in two rounds and render him unconscious in like, three. Except!!! Surprise!!!!! He’d been possessed by one of the slugs!!!! And his fucking head exploded into tentacles!!!! Celestia screamed and scrambled backward. Thela jumped. Obezyana took a step backward. Jafar screamed and tried to shove them back into his fucking neck.

We may have panicked a little.

Eventually (and surprisingly quickly) by doing the combat equivalent of hitting him over the head with a baseball bat and screaming we were able to kill whatever the Fuck he’d become, except!!! Another surprise!!!!! He exploded AGAIN!!!!! This time into more slugs!!!!!! Six of them!!!!!!! What fun!!!!!!! Kill me!!!!!!

Turns out arrows work really well on those bastards, which is great because it meant that Obezyana was able to shoot like three all at once while Jafar smashed another one or two, but three of them slimed away out the open window into the woods.

“OH NO YOU FUCKING DON’T” said Obezyana, leaping over the balcony railing and running off into the woods after them, the speedy bastards.

“Let’s burn this place to the ground” said Thela thoughtfully. “Great idea but let’s loot if first” said Celestia, greedily. “NO” said literally everyone, smartly. “But MONEY” said Celestia with her singular braincell, running off down the hall and opening the first door she found.

Now TO BE FAIR, she didn’t like, fling it open. She may be careless and greedy, but she’s not stupid. Good thing too, cause behind that door was a library, half collapsed and rotted away, inhabited by a pair of bloodthirsty ghosts! Thela had wanted to leave, but once she knew there were undead there she was obligated to at least try and help them leave, for Pharasma reasons. So she stayed behind with Jafar while Celestia was like “OKAY GREAT LET’S KNOCK THIS HOUSE OUT AS FAST AS POSSIBLE I’LL JUST RUN AHEAD” and powerwalked into the next room.

The room right next to the Ghost library was actually an empty bedroom, excepting a cradle and a mobile made of seashells hanging above it. There was no draft, but when she had to roll a perception check and it moved when Celestia opened the door. She didn’t go in.

The room after THAT was actually more of a fancy hallway, with a desk in the middle of it, looking away from some stunning views from the floor to ceiling windows behind it. THIS time Celestia actually did good on her perception check, and she was able to notice (and identify!) the yellow powder covering the desk as a type of mold that fucking EXPLODES into a POISONOUS CLOUD when disturbed!! Because what ELSE would this house have!! NORMAL dangers??? don’t be ridiculous (still tried to open it tho)

But after deciding aGIANST that, she went to the door at the other end of the hall room, because Celestia’s completionism knows no bounds. This entire time, Thela and Jafar had been dealing with the ghosts, and I don’t remember their bit very well? I think I wasn’t paying attention (or it was literally happening concurrently with my little adventure, whoops), but the gist of it was that the ghosts were Not up for conversation and FLEW at the pair of them, and Thela slammed the door in their faces and walked quickly on over to Celestia. So when Celestia opened the door at the other end of the hall, which will now be referred to as The Bedroom Door, Thela was there too, to help her out! Which was good! For reasons to be explained!

Behind The Bedroom Door was, well, a bedroom obviously, but it was. Hm. Literally cursed? It was dark, with a large, blood stained bed, and the ornate carving of a ship on a storm tossed sea above it carved into, just, cut to pieces. Someone had carved “THE PACT HAS BEEN BROKEN” into this fuckin ruined bed in this ruined house, and I think Celestia could see… things. The shadows were moving, or wrong, or something, but it meant that she did NOT want to go in. Thela, however, could be convinced by loot, and since she has a stupid high stealth snuck into the room to try and get into the attic.

So part of the fun of Pathfinder, or any ttrpg really, is that not only do you get to roleplay, you get to act and see what the Universe thinks of your decision. So when Thela rolled very, very high, it really added to the experiance that my dad (the DM) sighed with relief before describing the room. +31 stealth! I’ve got the second highest at +16! Sage rolled REALLY HIGH! SIGHED with RELIEF!!

The, things, that had such a high perception, were… not, dogs. They were large, shadowy, quadrupedal, with long, long thin legs and mouths full of teeth. Glowing eyes. And when you looked at them, you could feel your mind… twisting. Thela had to roll stealth again. A little farther into the room. Then she noticed that they weren’t… they were completely visible (well. no. they never were.) but they weren’t standing in the room. She could see them as if there was nothing in the way, but they were also very clearly standing outside of the second story bedroom. She signed this to Celestia (they both know sign), succeeded her final stealth check and BOOKED IT upstairs and away from the not-dogs. (here’s a drawing I did of them, if you’d like to look)

Celestia went downstairs, while Thela went upstairs to the attic. She found a book up there! Called smth like Non Euclidean Geometry. Written in Abysmal. Fun!

She also found the smashed corpse of a Whispering Way cultist, in a crater, and realized it must have been dropped from a very high height, which didn’t make sense considering there was only open sky above her oh my god what the fuck is that. SURPRISE!! I GIANT FUCKING FLYING BIRD DRAGON REPTILE GRIFFIN BUT NOT THING!!! IT REGULARLY EATS ELEPHANTS AS LIGHT SNACKS!!! AND OBEZYANA IS OUTSIDE!!!!!

anyway I’m gonna add the next bit in a reblog because this is getting long and tumblr doesn’t let me save this as a draft so this is all on my clipboard, making me nervous.

#campaign chaos #the haunted house

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kenzieam · 6 years

Text

It’s Time - (Bucky X OC)

Rating: M (language, eventual smut, angst)

Genre: Drama/Angst

@captstefanbrandt @iammarylastar @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @notimetoblog @captain-ariel-barnes @jaamesbbarnes @lancefvcker @bitsandbobsandstuff @softlybarnes @lovelybbarnes @buckitybarnes @bucky-plums-barnes @moonbeambucky @badassbaker @citylights221 @empress-of-boujee @tbetz0341chook007 @shynara51 @diinofayce @casestudy-mw @jewels2876 @damnaged-princess @everythingisoverrated @allmyfanficfaves @melgoodwin @clarabella960 @curvybihufflepuff @angryschnauzer @wowspideyholland @sergeantwhitewolf @smilexcaptainx @plaidcat4815

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An AU story with Bucky Barnes and my new OFC, Nika, please let me know what you think!!

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It's time.

Two little words, glowing on my phone screen; an innocent text, that manage to stop my heart.

Even though I've been expecting this for the last eight months, I'm still not ready.

Taking a deep breath, I dial the familiar number. He answers on the fourth ring.

"Lev."

"Clint."

For a long moment, neither of us speak.

"Are you coming home?" He finally asks.

"Does she even remember me?"

"Her only daughter? Of course she does."

My cuticles are suddenly very interesting. "Do I have time?"

"Yeah. If you hurry. I'd give her maybe a week."

"Does she want to see me?"

He sighs then, and I feel a small twinge of guilt. "Yes, she's been asking for you, she doesn't understand why you left in the first place."

"You know why-"

"I know, and before the cancer started rotting her brain Mom knew too, but now she's asking..... Can I tell her you'll be here soon?"

Dammit. "Yeah. My manager owes me, I'll call in my vacation time; let me find a flight and I'll call you back with the details."

"Thanks, Lev."

"Sorry I wasn't there."

"Don't worry about it."

"Is he going to be there?"

Another sigh. "He's one of my best friends, of course he'll be around."

"I don't want to see him."

Clint is silent for so long, I wonder if the call dropped and glance at my screen to check.

"It's been five years, Lev. You're going to have to let it go."

"You know I can't."

"You don't know the whole story, and if you weren't so goddamn stubborn I could've told you it a long time ago."

"Clint, don't. Don't go all big brother on me."

"Six minutes older."

"Big whoop."

I hear mumbling in the background, Clint's reply is muffled. "Lev? I gotta go, Nat needs help with the baby. You still have to meet your niece, you little puke.”

“I’ll call you back.”

“Just leave a message if I don’t answer, sometimes it takes awhile to get Lou to sleep.”

“Alright.”

“Bye, you little shit.”

“Bye, ass-munch.”

My smile fades as the call ends. My Mom is dying, end stage cancer and, from the other side of the country, it’s been easy to avoid that hard truth. She always loved Clint more than me anyway, but that’s hardly an excuse. Now it’s time to face the music.

A few minutes noodling around on my laptop gets me a round-trip flight leaving tomorrow morning.

My call to my manager is short and saccharine sweet. I have the next three weeks off, with the option of taking another week; it definitely pays to hoard your vacation time.

My neighbor across the hall agrees to watch Grimshaw for me, and I pet his sleek black fur one last time before handing him over, earning a nip for my trouble. The former stray is smart, even for a cat and he knows what’s up. He never gets shuttled over to the neighbors unless I’m leaving for an extended period of time, and he makes sure I know he’s displeased.

It doesn’t take long to pack, and I’m yawning under the covers not long after. I’m stubbornly refusing to consider what’s going to happen once I get home, and what my chances are of running into him.

***************************************************************************************************************************************************** The flight doesn’t take nearly long enough, and far too soon I’m walking through arrivals, wondering if it would be uncouth to pop into the airport bar for a few shots of liquid courage.

“Hey stranger!”

The first real smile I’ve cracked all day appears as I turn to the speaker and am swept up into a bone-cracker of a bear hug, suddenly surrounded by familiar cologne and strong arms.

“Hi, Steve.”

“That’s all? Hi, Steve? Haven’t seen you for years and it’s ‘Hi, Steve?”

“Oh! Steven! My beating heart! I’ve missed you so!” I wail dramatically, pretending to swoon and falling against his broad chest, looking up into his amused face before reaching up and clutching at his cheeks, pinching them and pulling him down for a loud European style set of kisses. “Better?”

“A little.” He teases, slinging an arm over my shoulder and pulling me to his side. “Did Clint tell you I was picking you up?”

“No, he just said he wasn’t going to be able to and he’d see who he could find. I was thinking I’d probably get a cab.”

“Nah, baby girl. As soon as he said you were flying in I volunteered.” His arm tightens, pulling me closer and he plants a loud kiss to the top of my head. Out of all of Clint’s friends, Steve has always been the big brother, the big affectionate goof not ashamed to tell you he loved you, that always answered the phone, no matter the god-awful hour and was halfway out the door to pick you up before your drunken ass could even remember which party you were currently at.

He scrunches a handful of my hair. “What’s this? Channeling homeless 80’s hair-band?

“Shut up.” I slap his shoulder hard enough to hurt my hand, but of course it doesn’t faze the gorilla. “I had a hair appointment booked today, but I’m here.”

“You look like you did in school, last picture I saw, you had some sleek French model bob thing.”

I feel a twinge of guilt, that was almost a year ago. “Nah, it grew out. I’ve been up to my eyeballs in projects lately; my only regular date is my masseuse to try and loosen up these knots I get from bending over a drafting table all day.”

“Clint said you’re almost a partner?”

“Bro exaggerates.” I stop short, grinning widely at the vehicle Steve has led me to. “Nice wheels, Rogers.”

His grin back is equal parts pride and bashful. All through high school he’d talked about owning a vintage Porsche, and the black piece of art in front of me sure looked like one. “Got lucky and found the ad just as the guy posted it, it needed a little body work, but not much else. Got it reasonable enough, guy wanted room in his garage for his new toy.”

Stowing my bags in the front, trunk, I remind myself, he holds my door open like a gentleman then runs around the front, sliding into the driver’s side with his typical grace before turning the key and grinning widely at me. It was infectious and I can’t help but grin back, squeaking in surprise when he lays a few blackies screeching out of the parking lot.

“So how is work going?” Steve asks, downshifting, the hum of the engine immediately addicting.

“I’m a senior architect at the firm, but I doubt I’ll be partner anytime soon.”

“Why? You’re amazing, Bean. I saw what you’d draw in art class.”

“My personnel file calls it a ‘bellicose attitude’, I’m sure if I wasn’t the one bringing in 40% of the contracts myself, and if they hadn’t head-hunted me, I’d of been skidded months ago.”

“Why the attitude? Just do your thing, sweet; don’t pay attention to the peasants.”

I sigh, rubbing my forehead. “Half of the people there are just concerned with prestige; they just want to design the newest ‘in’ thing, not for the art of it, but the fame; I’m not an architect for the glory, I love architecture.”

“Come back home, there’s plenty of firms in Manhattan that would love to have you. Get out of Seattle before you’re completely disillusioned.”

“It’s not that simple.”

Steve rolls his eyes, fixing me with an affectionate exasperation. “You can’t do that forever, Bean. It’s been five years.”

“Do you and Clint compare notes?” I grumble, pointing out the windshield. “Stop at that Starbucks and I’ll buy you a Caramel Macchiato to shut up.”

Smirking, Steve pulls into the parking lot and kills the engine but before I can climb out he grabs my hand, stopping me. “It’s hard not to, you guys were perfect for each other. He’s spent the last five years kicking his own ass over it, and we miss you here, please just talk to the guy.”

“He slept with another girl, Steve. Or did you forget? Got her pregnant too.”

A dark emotion sweeps across Steve’s normally cheerful face. “That’s your side of it.”

“What other side is there?” Even as the words leave my mouth I feel a hot flash of shame. That had been part of the reason I’d left in the first place, to avoid this; to stop from breaking the gang up by demanding they choose sides.

“Are you happy?” He asks suddenly.

“What?”

“Working across the country, in a city where you have no family? Sure, you’re an architect, your dream; but this is the first time you’ve been home since Clint and Nat’s wedding.... four years ago, has your anger been worth that?”

Suddenly, I wasn’t sure anymore. The wave of nostalgia I’d been holding back hits me full force then and I have to look away, blinking back unexpected tears. Steve’s hand is warm over mine.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry. I just.... just talk to him, Bean. Clear the air if nothing else. If you still feel the same way after then you can go back to Washington with a clear heart, but it’s obvious you’re not over him.” He cups my chin, turning my head to look at him and waits patiently until I raise my eyes. He smiles gently, grinning wider when I manage a wet smile back.

“Love you, Bean. I’ve missed you; we’ve all missed you.”

“Love you back, doofus. You want sprinkles?”

“You’re buying? Of course.” He pulls away, reclining into his seat with a groan and flaps his hand at me. “Hurry up, I’m thirsty.”

His Macchiato occupies him the rest of the way and I find myself staring out the window as we drive, finding less changes than I expected to the old neighbourhood. I was used to constant design and construction back in Seattle, this is exactly what I remember from high school.

“Nothing’s changed.” Steve beats me to the punch, slowing to a stop to let an old lady cross the road, carrying a reusable shopping bag. He sticks his head out the window. “You need any help, Mrs. Proctor?”

Her reply is muffled, but Amelia Proctor was ancient when I was young, and muttered back then too. I catch a ‘no, dear boy, but thank you’ then she’s past us, moving like creeping Jesus.

After he closes the window I grin. “Mrs. Proctor’s still around, huh?”

“Yep, and she’ll still chase you down with her cane if you cut across her flower garden. How many times did you do that?”

I can’t stop a giggle. “At least once a week, it was a game; she loved it.”

“You two were terrible; poor Mrs. Proctor, if it wasn’t you, it was him.”

He’s treading in dangerous waters again, and I look away.

I don’t look forwards again until he turns the car into the driveway, I’m staying at Mom’s while I’m here, same lapis blue exterior with white trim, same swing on the wrap-around porch. Clint’s car is parked in front of the garage doors. I glance down the street, his house is just a half-block down, brick-red with grey trim. He and Nat bought that house from the Foster’s right after they got married, would they stay there, or move into this house, our childhood home?

“There she is!” My door is yanked open and arms pull me out into a tight hug.

“Sam Wilson.”

“Lev Barton.” He lets me go only far enough to kiss my forehead then yanks me back again, finally releasing me with a loud sigh. “You look good baby girl, except for that hair.” He cuts a glance at Steve and I wonder briefly if Rogers texted him to have that line ready.

“Shut up.”

His laugh is infectious and he slings his arm around my neck, pulling me close and almost off my feet. “I’m kidding, you look like you did in high school, it looks good.”

He’s the second person to say that, first Steve and now Sam; I hadn’t really had time to think about it these last few months, who else is going to wax nostalgic on me?

“Baby sister!” I hear the familiar voice and duck out from Sam’s arm just in time to be swept up by Clint. It takes my breath away just how tightly he grabs me and I feel a rush of fresh shame; what kind of sister have I been, letting him deal with all this himself?

“I’m sorry.” I murmur in his ear and he knows immediately what I’m talking about.

“It’s okay, Mom’s always been hardest on you, I understood why you’ve stayed away.” He turned his head and pressed a kiss to my hair. “I’m just happy you’re here now.” He steps back, glancing over his shoulder, his face splitting into a huge grin as Nat appears, a pink blanket wrapped bundle in her arms. My sister-in-law and childhood friend steps closer, looking every inch a glowing new mom. She tilts the bundle so I can see and I feel my heart immediately burst.

“Ohhhh.... guys, she’s adorable.” I find myself cooing, making ‘gimme’ fingers. Carefully my new niece is placed in my arms and I’m completely suckered.

She’s got Clint’s blond hair and Nat’s nose, fist curled against her downy-soft cheek. She’s already a few months old but she still looks like a tiny doll to me.

“She’s so little.”

Clint wraps his arm around my shoulders again, looking down at his daughter. “Yeah, she’s just a little shit,” he grins, sidestepping Nat’s playful smack.

“Is Jax still around? I’m getting her name tattooed on my wrist.” It’s a split second decision, but that’s how I roll.

“Yeah, he’s still downtown.” Clint answers, shaking his head. We may be twins, but we’ve never been alike. Clint’s got Mom’s hair and eyes, while I’m darker, like Dad. Clint treats his body like a temple, whereas I’ve closing in on an even dozen tattoos. Clint’s never had so much as an earring, while I’ve had a whole gamut of piercings, up to and including one only my infrequent boyfriends have ever seen. “Can you see Mom though before you run off defacing yourself further?”

My mood stutters a bit as I’m reminded why I’m here in the first place and Clint sobers as well, pressing a kiss to my forehead in apology before stepping away. Nat takes his place and smiles as her new daughter stirs and blows a few bubbles in her sleep. I just grin like a damn fool down at her for a few minutes, breathing soft-baby smell and sighing.

“Eloise Arabella Barton.” I grin.

“You’re not tattooing all that, are you?” Nat sounds doubtful.

“No, just ‘Lou’, it’s almost as cute as her.”

Clint reappears, face sombre. “I just called the hospice. Mom’s having a good day, did you want to go?”

I gently hand Lou back and take a deep breath. “Just let me put my bag in my room, then yeah.” I glance over at Steve and Sam, standing nearby. “You guys?”

Sam shakes his head. “I gotta run, Wanda’s on bedrest. You have to come by and see her, Bean.”

“How much longer does she have?”

“Five weeks. And she hates every minute of it. First pregnancy was fine, now the second one is dragging her down.”

“Must be a boy, then.”

“Ha Ha. Text me later Bean, before Wanda opens the bedroom window and starts screaming your name.”

“I will.”

Sam turns and starts jogging away; he, Wanda and their adorable daughter Zoë live the next street over.

“Steve?”

He shakes his head. “I have to run by the site, check out the new crew.”

I nod, trying to hide my disappointment. Steve would have been a good buffer between me and my Mom, now I’m going in alone. “Business going good?” I feel bad for not asking sooner about Steve’s construction company.

“Yeah, it’s good.” He seems reluctant to answer, “Buck handles most of the grunt work now, I handle the clients end of it.”

I nod. Steve always was the most even-tempered of us all, the one who easily made and kept friends, the ‘never met a stranger’ guy. His business partner, the man I’d avoided for five long years, was a whole other story.

He leans forward suddenly, presses a quick kiss to my forehead. “Say hi to your Mom for me and I’ll see you tonight.”

“What’s tonight?”

“Didn’t Clint tell you? He’s having a barbecue to welcome you back.”

“What?”

“It was a surprise, you big dummy.” Clint deadpans behind me. “If Bean knew about it, she’d catch the first flight back to Seattle.”

My immediate flash of panic is quickly overwhelmed by the thought of seeing all the old neighborhood again. Surely it’ll be big and busy enough that even if he does show up, I can avoid him.

Steve shrugs in a ‘sorry, not sorry’ way and turns away, calling goodbye over his shoulder before roaring off.

“Dick.” Clint shakes his head, grinning. “C’mon. Nat’s feeding Lou; hop in the car and we’ll go see Mom.”

I never did get to put my bags inside, so I set them just inside the porch and walk over to Clint’s vehicle.

“You need a minivan now, Dad.” I tease.

“Nah,” he replies easily, buckling his seat-belt and gesturing into the backseat. “This is the ultimate in soccer-mom SUV chic, minivans are so last season.”

We fall silent as we get closer to the hospice and I find myself picking at a small mark on my jeans. The shaking in my knees gets worse as I follow Clint inside the building, smiling dutifully as I’m introduced to the receptionist, then follow my brother down a maze of hallways. He knows the way and if I wasn’t about to have a panic attack, I’d be able to focus more on how downright beautiful and peaceful it is here. Soft lights and music, green spaces and small waterfalls, it’s a nice place, considering you only come here if you’re going to die. Dad’s estate has been footing the bill for here, and I can see now why it costs so much.

He stops in front of a room and holds up a hand. “Wait here.” He instructs before disappearing inside. I fidget and wait, pulling at my poor cuticles a little more before he reappears. “C’mon.”

I follow, swallowing hard but I’m still not prepared for the sight that awaits me. Always fashionably lean, Mom is positively gaunt now, her hair thin and colorless, a far cry from the perfect weekly blow-outs she always had. Dad had been a successful business man up to his surprise death from a heart attack when Clint and I were sixteen, and Mom had always been the polished, glamorous wife, doting on her favored son and tolerating her free-spirited daughter. Spare with her compliments and sharp with her judgements, her and I had never really gotten on. She’d been smart though, learning the business quietly from Dad, taking over when he died and selling it for an embarrassing profit a year later, she’d ensured herself a comfortable life, and now, a comfortable death. I knew there were trust funds set up for Clint and I, but I’d never looked into mine, preferring to make my own money.

Her eyes, bleary with heavy painkillers, nonetheless lock onto me like a missile.

“Levka.”

I’ve never gone by my full name. Supposedly, when we were born, Dad got to name Clint, and called him Clinton Edward after some childhood friend that died young, while Mom got to name me. She had a degree in Russian Literature that she’d never to my knowledge used, other than bestowing me with my incongruous handle; Levka Valentina Barton.

She reaches for my hand, breaking me out of my thoughts and I give it before I can think twice. Her grip is weaker, but still stronger than most men. I sit in the chair Clint pushes forward for me and try to think of what to say.

“Mom, I-”

“Don’t, Levka.” Her voice is surprisingly strong. “You and I have never been ones for idle chitchat, at least not with each other.”

I shift guiltily on my chair, wondering if I’m about to get my proverbial ass handed to me by a woman with no fucks left to give.

“I wanted to see you before I go,” she continues, as matter of fact as if she’s leaving for a weekend at the spa. “I’ve always been proud of you, Levka; even when I didn’t show it.”

I nearly fall off my chair in shock. Mom has never, ever told me she was proud of me.

“You are as strong as your name, and you have always been strong in your convictions. Perhaps that’s why we’ve never gotten along, but I’ve always admired how you make your own way. I want my grand-daughter to have strong role models in her life, to grow up knowing independent women like you and her mother; therefore, I’m leaving you my house-”

I glance in shock at Clint, but he doesn’t look surprised.

“-and I hope you will move back home and help raise Lou, help mold her into a eloquent and respected young lady.”

I’m gasping like a fish out of water and Clint steps closer, resting his hand on my shoulder.

“I hope you’ll forgive me, Levka; for not being the best mother to you. I want to be able to see your father again and tell him we are okay.”

Okay, now I’m crying. I feel Clint’s hands on my shoulders and for the longest time, I can only hold Mom’s hand against my cheek as I try to form words. That’s all I’ve wanted, all my life from this woman, acceptance. “Yes Mom; of course.” I manage tearfully a few minutes later.

Almost immediately Mom nods and closes her eyes, sighing peacefully and for a micro-second I panic, thinking she’s gone ahead and died, but Clint leans forward over me, gently disentangles our hands and presses a kiss to the top of my head.

“She does that,” he explains quietly. “Falls asleep really easily. The painkillers. She’ll be out for hours.” He pulls gently at me. “C’mon, Bean.”

I let him pull me to my feet, let him lead me outside like a child and, when we reach his vehicle, I break down completely, and cry like a baby on his shoulder.

Later, on our way home, I’m better, lighter than I’ve felt in years, and unable to stop grinning like an idiot.

“I should have come home sooner.”

“Nah,” Clint’s smile is bittersweet. “Up until last week she still would have torn you apart; that’s how I knew it was time, she finally wanted to make amends.”

“I’m sorry about the house, I’ll put you on the deed too-”

“Don’t worry about it, Bean. I have my home, just do what she wants and move back, please?”

I chew my bottom lip, I can’t answer that right now. I have a life in Seattle; okay, it revolves around work and a small group of acquaintances, but it’s still my life. If I moved back I’d be settling right back into my old life, my old friends... there would be no way in hell I’d be able to continue to avoid my past. But Mom’s words echo through my head, and it’s her fucking dying wish. After my entire life wanting the woman’s approval and love, I’d do damn near anything now that I had it.

“I have to think about it.”

Clint nods, dropping the subject. After a few more minutes he pulls into the local grocery store parking lot. “Well,” he grins, reaching across me and grabbing his wallet from the glove box. “Now that Steve’s let the cat out of the bag, come help me grab supplies for the barbecue, I have no idea what hipsters from Seattle like to eat.”

“Ha Ha,” I grumble, but follow him anyway.

By that evening there’s paper lanterns strung across the backyard and a few dozen people are milling around, grazing at the snack bowls and standing in loose groups, drinking and talking. I recognize most of them, went to school with half of them, and am being dragged around by either Clint or Steve, depending on who’s manning the grill at the time, being introduced to the rest. Nat and Lou are surrounded by cooing women and Wanda is reclining in an outdoor chaise lounge, Sam waiting on her hand and foot, to my endless amusement.

I’m actually feeling quite relaxed, my second Dirty Corona going down way too easily and thoughts that this could be my new normal flitting casually through my head when it all comes crashing down.

“Levi.”

There’s only one person who calls me that, pronouncing it like ‘when the levee breaks’ and there’s only one person whose voice gives me chills, even after all these years. I take a deep breath, steeling myself and turn around.

“Bucky.”

#bucky barnes #au bucky barnes #sebastian stan #avengers #bucky and nika #bucky and lev

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tyranttortoise · 7 years

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@sesrins-symphony

I know you asked me what my Oceantale HC’s were, but for the life of me, I can’t find that ask. I know I wrote some of them on mobile and then tried to Draft it, but I’m thinking tumblr just decided to eat it.

I think it’s worth noting that I’m pretty sure the original Oceantale ( @oceantale01 right?) is just concept art without a set story. I’m sure that by now, there’s fics and stuff for it that build on a canon world (and wasn’t someone making a game for it at some point?), but I haven’t read any of them, so all of this is just my own take.

.... Actually, let’s start with Oceanfell because I actually have a fanfic idea for that setting, so my HC’s are a little more fleshed out for that.

Oceanfell

Monsters have always lived in the depths of the ocean, but as humans explore more and more of it, they actually stumbled upon the area the monsters call home. This didn’t go well; the ocean is already a hostile environment, so with humans poking their noses around, more than a few got killed. The humans retaliated, but they didn’t account for the monsters’ magic. Even something like a torpedo could be diverted back to them.

To put an end to the underwater warfare, a barrier was erected with magic--and powered by human SOULs. However, the power of one human SOUL may be immense, but... it’s only enough to last for seven years.

The monsters struck a deal with the humans, to avoid hunting and do a peace treaty of sorts. After all, the monsters may be of an aquatic nature, but not all of them are bound to water--and if they wanted to take over the land, Asgore has assured the humans it would be possible.

Sooo, the humans of a neighboring beach city pull a sacrifice from a raffle of sorts. Your name gets pulled, you have to line up on the beach. Several names get pulled, of course--the monsters want a hearty SOUL to power the barrier, not a damaged one.

The monsters in charge of picking out the sacrifice, are... you guessed it--Sans and Papyrus. Their pirate ship rises from the water, a gaudy silver skull with glowing red eyes affixed to the bow. It’s also flying the skull-and-crossbones sail, and despite the fact that the ship looks like it’s been at the bottom of the ocean for decades (because it has), and the wood is rotten and filled with holes from canon fire, it still glides easily along the water.

They’re pirates. And whoops, you happen to be standing on the shoreline with the others, staring incredulously as the two brothers disembark from their ship and make a beeline straight for you.

This turned into more of a fic-pitch than headcanons. I should probably add that in my idea of OF, Sans only has one peg-leg, though still has the eyepatch (can still manifest an eyelight beneath the patch, but the eyesocket is jagged and broken), while Papyrus pretty much keeps all of his concept--his legs are swords (look at the concept art and tell me those aren’t swords), and his left arm is dead bone mended to the joint with seaweed.

Oceantale

Lemme try to make this one more Undertale-canon.

Monsters have always lived in the ocean, but they wanted more freedom. Just as humans were exploring the ocean--and encroaching on their habitat, ruining their ecosystems--monsters wanted to explore land. Most of the monsters were only semi-aquatic, meaning they could exist on both, while some (like Undyne) require water full-time. However, when the monsters started coming up the beaches and attempting to settle on land, the humans freaked out and a war began. Ultimately, the humans drove them back into the sea (Underwater... shit, has Underwater been used yet? If not, I’m calling dibs), and this time, erected a barrier to keep them in corralled into one portion of the ocean, deep and hidden away.

Or so they thought.

All it took was for a human to fall overboard on a ship somewhere above, and a SOUL managed to float down to fall into the Underwater. The barrier is like a bubble; with every SOUL collected, it grows larger and larger, giving the monsters more space. By the time the barrier breaks the surface of the water and hits air, the bubble will break and the monsters will be set free.

This also means that humans that fall overboard have a better chance of passing through the barrier instead of just dying and having their SOUL sink to the bottom of the ocean.

The barrier is magic, and therefore humans can breathe underwater just fine when they’re inside of it, and pressure doesn’t effect their bodies.

The seventh human (and the last SOUL needed) is ends up getting tossed off a boat during turbulent weather.

The skelebros used to be legitimate human pirates before they were executed (i.e. shot in the back of the head) and their bodies left to rot at sea. Thanks to a magic artifact they had "liberated” (read: stolen) that once belonged to the monsters, their bodies retained enough magic upon dying that their corpses actually reanimated and they became legitimate monsters.

^ that HC is subject to change. In my head, they used to be human pirates, but I’m still tossing around reanimated corpse ideas.

Grillby looks cool as shit, but I want to go away from the concept art for a sec. I think he’d be an ice elemental instead of water or fire. When he gets mad, the water around him starts to freeze, and he can make ice cubes instantly for the drinks he prepares. Also really digging the monocle look.

Papyrus is a member of the Royal Guard, but it’s more of a Peacekeeper/soul retrieval job than anything else.

Sans is still a sentry, but he can’t teleport, and his Gaster Blasters are now canons.

Also, the skelebros still definitely have a pirate ship they use to get around the Underwater faster.

Sans’s drink of choice is (unsurprisingly) rum, and he sells Bone Soup at an illegal food stand in Hot Water.

#undertale headcanon #headcanons #oceantale #oceanfell #underwater #sans #papyrus #as glorious pirates #and oh shit #there's sacrifices #and grillby's so cool #just made all of this shit up #so take it with a grain of salt #because i've really only ever seen the concept art #Hotland is Hotwater to me and no one can tell me otherwise #stars help me i became way too giddy when i thought of that

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thesportssoundoff · 6 years

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The Knicks Are Rebooting....Again

First the trade:

Knicks get- Dennis Smith Jr, DeAndre Jordan, Wesley Matthews and two 1st round picks

Mavericks get- Tim Hardaway Jr, Trey Burke, Courtney Lee and Kristaps Porzingis

Alex's thoughts:

"Knicks get: a future first rounder, a point guard they needed in Smith Jr, a serviceable big man in De'Andre Jordan, a guy who is at worst a like for like replacement for Hardaway Jr and you shed millions of dollars tied up in contracts that open you up to make a run at somebody like Durant in the summer. Suddenly? The Knicks will have 74.6 million available to spend. That's two max contracts.

Knicks get rid of: Porzingis who was always hurt and questioning the direction of the team- a guy whom you could say the bloom had fallen off the rose rather quickly lately. Same guy who couldn't be bothered to go to exit interviews at the end of the season and likes to undermine his coaches via instagram posts. You also got rid of Hardaway who as a hindrance to the team and Courtney Lee who is a take him or leave him player.

I'm not mad about this."

My thoughts:

1- This becomes a lot easier to stomach when you accept the obvious: Kristaps Porzingis was not going to stay in New York.

Remember the exit interview from 2017? How the Knicks apparently talked trade with the Suns during the NBA draft? Remember the rumblings about some grumblings that Porzingis was losing faith in the Knicks? Then comes today where he it leaks that he and his management had a chit chat with the Knicks where he implies he'd like to be traded. The key here to is to just accept that you were going to lose Kristaps Porzingis eventually and in the process you would've had a very angry potential star piece dragging your franchise for the process. If he accepts the QO from the Mavs, it'll only further paint the picture of a guy who was going to hit the market no matter what the case was (although he could re-sign with Dallas if he desires). Work the timeline out if ya must; there's no way to do a deal where somebody shows up mad, hints at wanting to trade and then a trade suddenly materializes after the meeting within thirty minutes or so. It's faulty logic at best. The Knicks must've known Porzingis was not going to be here for much longer and as such had to make a move. The fact that they apparently talked to Dallas for days about this tells me that this wasn't some master plan set up. The Knicks had a guy who didn't want to be here and so it was done and dealt with.

Kristaps Porzingis is not wrong to see the Knicks and say "I don't want to be here anymore" so don't think I'm going after him here. The Knicks drafted him into a dysfunctional relationship to start with when you consider Phil Jackson, Steve Mills and the head coaching kerfuffle at the time. The Knicks have rebuilt around him, spent for the illusion of competitiveness and then engaged in a rebuild again. He's clashed with them, saw his friend in Carmelo Anthony get dealt (HE HAUNTS THE KNICKS FROM THE NBA GRAVE!) and just had to deal with a generally all around pretty piss poor run franchise. If he looked around and didn't like what he saw then that's fine and he should seek greener pastures. You don't get to be mad when you make a league like the NFL where the owners yield less power than any other major sport. That's the name of the game. I'm just making the argument that if he's leaving then trading him before he leaves (and not letting the stink linger any) is the right move to make. You can hold onto the hope or accept that ya Knicks'd it up and try again.

2- This CAN be a win-win for both teams.

Right now if we're just talking players for players, the Mavericks win this trade with relative ease. Mavericks got the best player in KP and they'll have him for at least another season. They got a bit of a renaissance story in Trey Burke, a really underrated 3 and D guy in Courtney Lee and while Tim Hardaway Jr is pretty awful defensively, he CAN do some good things offensively on a team that's lacked some scoring pop. The Knicks got DeAndre Jordan (a good big man on the decline who has no value to a bad team), the corpse of Wes Matthews who never recovered from an awful Achilles injury and Dennis Smith Jr. Right now the Mavericks are better than they were going INTO today and chances are they're going to be better next year as well!

Unless....

We've been down this road before. The Knicks once upon a time moved heaven and earth under Donnie Walsh to put themselves in the driver's seat for 2010. Remember that? LeBron James, Dwayne Wade, Chris Bosh, Amare Stoudamire and Joe Johnson to name a few? The Knicks were prepping themselves to be active hardcore buyers. They struck out on the big three, Joe Johnson wound up staying with the Hawks and the Knicks? Well they had money and they needed a dude to trumpet out so Amare Stoudamire, come on down! Stoudamire will forever have a somewhat broken relationship with Knicks lore; it was a pro sports arranged marriage of sorts that ultimately helped the Knicks get Carmelo Anthony. There is no Melo without Amare and while "Did the Knicks give up too much?" will always be a debate, the Knicks with Melo and Amare had some really good seasons before it fell apart. The point isn't to relitigate the legacies of Melo and Amare but to point out that the Knicks are back at it again. They're selling hopium to you at marquee prices, telling you that THIS time we're going to right the wrongs of the failed LeBron/Wade/Bosh push. This time is going to be THE time where the Knicks will be players for Kyrie Irving and Kevin Durant and they will get their guys. If that happens then this is one of those ultra rare trades where everybody wins.

That of course doesn't even touch on the fact of two first round picks the Knicks are getting. I would say easily there's little to no chance that the Knicks actually MAKE those picks but those are assets which leads me tooooo....

3- The Knicks allocated some assets BUT do you trust them?

The first is that the Knicks collected some good assets in this deal. There was a plenty of interest in Dennis Smith Jr when the Mavs were shopping him SO if the Knicks feature Dennis Smith Jr and then move him in June or July (assuming he's not a TOTAL failure) then they can continue to flip him into assets. The two 1st round picks (2021 and 2023 apparently) do not matter now but in a year or two the Knicks COULD be able to throw some picks out there to try and trade for somebody. Asset allocation is great and having options with so many young players who are on flippable deals with picks to back them up can get you something. The counter here is that you're absolutely right and dare I say fair to have zero trust in the people making these decisions.

The same guys who rotted the KP/Knicks relationship still remain.

The guys who gave Tim Hardaway Jr the fat deal you had to fight from underneath to get out of remains.

The guy who drafted Frank Ntilikina over Dennis Smith Jr (Which WHOOPS!)

The sole difference in the equation is Scott Perry; a long time executive who has some skins on the wall who will be tasked with not making the mistakes of Donnie Walsh or a Phil Jackson. Good luck pal.

4- "The Heaviest Jersey In The NBA"

I would not have a single problem with people not wanting to hear from Allan Hahn right now given who he works for BUT Hahn was on the Michael Kay Show and he said something that struck me. "This is the heaviest jersey in the NBA and it wears you down." His point was that it takes a certain guy to be the guy who carries the Knicks franchise and even so it requires plenty of help. Hahn paints a picture of a really good young player with poor support around him off the court who grew tired of the poor support on the court. He talked about Porzingis being fragile and sensitive to New York criticism with a support group that didn't like seeing Porzingis take the heat for the Knicks' woes. If that's the case then Porzingis simply wasn't going to be "the guy" and now the Knicks are left chasing "the guy" onward into perpetuity.

5- Your view on this deal is directly tied on how addicted to Hopium you are.

Seriously. If you're a guy who can still get buzzed on Hopium then this deal is a winner for you. You traded a guy who didn't want to be here for two 1st round picks (ASSETS!), a good young guard (TALENTED GUY WHO CAN GET BETTER!), expiring deals (CAP SPACE!) and the opportunity to be free agent players (KD! KYRIE! KLAY THOMPSON!). Throw in a potential top 3 pick (THE KICKS HAVE TO WIN THE LOTTERY ONE YEAR RIGHT?!?) and you've got something to be built. If you've gone to sports rehab for Hopium then you see the Knicks trading away a player not even close to his prime for pennies on the dollar and promises of doing something they haven't been able to do in a long, long time. Let your addictions define your fandom.

#NBA #Knicks #Mavs #trade #Talk

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