So in our party, there’s a cleric with a mighty crush on our orc fighter, and even admitted it, but nothing came out of it at first. Cue some meddling wingmen, and then the last thing everyone sees is the Orc carrying off the cleric onto the ship, and then the boat rocking.
“Roll to see if you can keep up with the orc.”
“Roll to make sure she doesn’t accidentally wreck your pelvis.”
“Roll strength to see if you wreck his pelvis.”
“Take 9 non-lethal damage.”
“Roll for another round.”
After three bouts of those rolls, (and everyone losing their shit), the two come off the ship, the cleric limping. Upon being questioned, this is what he had to say.
i need friends who make me want to leave my house. who give me adventure. late night strolls ridin’ round the city talking bout everything while eating our favourite food and listening to all the best jams. friends who make me want to learn more about the world and what it has to offer me. friends who bring out the best of me. friends who’ll show up at my door talking bout, “get ya ass up i’m taking you somewhere”. friends who remain loyal and show they care. friends who’ll be there for me just as much as i would be there for them. friends who achieve a close friendship wit my family cause that’s how i know you stickin’ around for a while. where you at tho?
Oof. I feel like I’ve been so dead round here lately. Sorry bout that. Lotsa deadlines at work lately, and The Muse has at last started gracing me with those sweet sweet writing powers again (ahaha please don’t go away now that I’ve said that, muse), which tends to make me a bit single-minded in my free time. I’m still around, just, you know. Lurking. Observing. Watching y’all all do y’all’s thing.
TONIGHT! Tune into FS1 at 9:30 ET for the premiere of “UFC Presents: Evolution of Punk”. It will be 30 minutes long and will be part 1 of 4 episodes as we countdown to Punk’s UFC debut in September at the Q in Cleveland against Mickey Gall in a 3 round Welterweight bout.
Till then, sit back, relax and watch the process of the transition and journey of Phil Brooks from Professional Wrestler to Mixed Martial Artist.
Oh, and drown in a puddle of adorable fluffy PunkLee/AJPunk feels.
So yesterday as I was coming home from work last night with my Dad, we drove around the round-a-bout and I saw a flash of light.
It was like someone had put on a spotlight from above and in an instant it was gone. It was so quick that I was the only one who saw it, my Dad said he didn’t see anything at all. I don’t know what the hell that was but honestly it makes me wanna go investigate.
Aliens? Angels? I don’t know…but something for sure happened.
There was an old man fishing in the campground’s lake. He was sitting on a blue and white cooler and looked like my grandfather. That is, he looked like my grandfather because he was fishing. Other than that, there was no significant resemblance.
“How are they biting?”
“How long have you been fishing?”
“Round ‘bout sixty years.”
“No,” I said, “I meant today.”
“Oh. Five this morning. Fish bite better in the morning.”
“Did you catch anything earlier?”
I never could quite comprehend the draw that fishing has on people. They get up at five A.M. to get their tackle ready. They sit on their coolers or in their boats. They sit and wait. Fishing is mostly waiting. There are other things involved too, but mostly it is just waiting. They make it a pastime. If you sit on a sofa and do nothing it is laziness. Sitting on a cooler and doing nothing is not laziness. It is not laziness because you aren’t doing nothing, you are waiting. You are waiting for the fish to come. It is relaxing. It is relaxing because it is laziness disguised as waiting for fish.
I woke up on a beach in Pointe Noir. I was asleep on a sheet. Or maybe it was a towel. It was probably a sheet. The beach was empty when I fell asleep. When I woke up there were dozens and dozens of women pacing up and down the beach. They all carried wicker baskets. Every few feet they would stoop down, picking up a flat rock. There were hundreds and thousands of flat rocks. One of the flat rocks scurried across my arm that was still resting in the sand. It was a crab.
I started walking down the beach. I had to wade through a brook that emptied itself into the Atlantic Ocean. I’d been told by The Professionals not to let my skin touch fresh water. I waded through the brook. I wanted to keep walking down the beach. I would not let Little River turn me away.
Before I saw the boats lined up on the beach, I saw the miles of aisles of sharks. For half a mile there were sharks laid out on the beach every eighteen inches. There were 247 shark carcasses lying in the sand. Six hours earlier, I was swimming naked in that water. My pecker was swaying with the tide and I never once noticed that there were 247 sharks swimming around me. I do not know if I would have swum naked in the water if I knew 247 sharks infested it. I probably would have. That was the first and last time at that beach. I never found out if the knowledge of sharks would persuade me from swimming.
A group of fishermen were pulling a boat out of the ocean. It was blue, and thirty feet long. There was a woman’s name painted on the side. It was a French name. I do not remember what it was, only that it was French. Four women were moving logs in front of the boat so that it would roll onto the sand. One of the fisherman waved at me. I do not know what he said. He was speaking Lingala. I went over and helped them pull the boat.
We sang a sea chanty as we pulled the fishing boat out of the Atlantic Ocean. It might have been in Lingala or French or Ketubah. The song was only one line long; I learned the words quickly. Nothing creates a sense of comradery so quickly as pulling a fishing boat out of the Atlantic Ocean whilst singing a sea chanty. The work was very hard but we did not notice. It felt easy because we were chanting. The work was enjoyable, since it was wearing the disguise of Singing.
When the boat was on top of the hill, and pushed on top of the logs we unloaded the night’s catch. One young man, who was the same age as me, threw me a shark. It was a small shark. It was only two and a half feet long. He was very proud. He was very excited. Maybe it was the first shark he ever caught. Maybe he thought that no one had ever thrown a shark at me before. If that is what he was thinking, he was right.
When all of the sharks were unloaded, they brought out the nets. They sat around with large needles and began to sew the tears. “How long does it take to fix them?” I said, shaking the net gently. I knew that much French. The person I asked did not; someone else did though. They had been fishing all night. They would mend the nets all day. Then they would sleep for a few hours and go out fishing again. The women would butcher the sharks and try to sell them.
When I was walking back, a man came up to me and told me the police would arrest me for not wearing a shirt. Maybe he was trying to be helpful. Maybe he was trying to be mean. I did not put on a shirt. I was not arrested.
“I hope you catch something.” I said to the man who was not my grandfather.
He shrugged, “It’s a good time either way.” He said.
The sun was directly overhead, and it was growing quite hot. I took off my shirt and walked back to my campsite.
Napstaton: “Hey there, dudes and
dudettes, it’s me, Napstaton, here with NTT’s Newswave! So we’ve been
hearin’ rumors goin’ ‘round 'bout how the studio has been buzzing
with some sick, hot news. And, check it, I’m actually sitting here
LIVE with our own Studiotale Error Sans to give us the 411! Error,
bro, don’t leave us hangin’.”
Error: [Error laughs] “Oh, c'mon,
it’s more fun to leave you all hanging by a thread.
But really, I know it’s been hard for all of us at Studiotale to
spend some time with our fans with all the issues we’ve been having
and we’re hoping to change that. Sooo, to make up for all this, we
are announcing a fight tournament to be held May 14th for people to
see who is the best of the best in the multiverse with a grand prize
that is TOTALLY rad! Yo, is anyone else gonna be there?”
“We’re hoping, but officially, I and Blueberry, my co-star from
AskError and CPAU are going to be attending, as well as other
members of the studio, such as Ink, Yan, G, and many more. And one
last thing, this is going to be limited to only twenty people. We’re
looking for both fighters, as well as healers to help us out. So
hurry and get your applications in, and on the 10th
of May, we’ll announce who’ll be taking part. We’ll be considering
all candidates so please, let us know your name, your AU origin,
whether you’re a fighter or healer, and any information you think
would convince us you’re ready to fight to be best of the best!”
Napstaton: “Oh, this is gonna be gnarly! Yo, you all heard it here
at NTT Newswa-
((That’s right, folks, we got big plans coming up! May 14th, Saturday, starting at 6 PM Central, we will be holding a huge combat event. This fight is expecting to go on for two or three hours and there is a plot involved for it, so PLEASE, make sure you are ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN that you will be able to be there for the entirety of the event.
How do you sign up? Send in an application through askstudiotaleerror.tumblr.com/ask with at least the following information. But the more the better.
You CAN send in as many applications as you’d like of each character, but if you are chosen, we will only choose one character. AUs and OCs will join but we are going to be leaning towards AU characters that catch our interest. We are also looking for four healers and sixteen fighters for the event.
When the event takes place, anyone can watch the events that unfold but only the ones who have been granted an invitation for the tournament will be there ICly.
We will have strict rules during this event that we will go over prior. You ARE required to follow them. If you choose to continue breaking them, you will be removed from the event.
Any other questions you may have, send me an ask and I will answer promptly!
I swear to god Narsus and Daryun are acting like Arslan’s parents all the time and let me tell you, they can parent way better than the boy’s biological parents can parent. And it is at once the greatest and most hilarious yet endearing thing ever.
Exhibit A: In the 5th novel (I think), when Arslan asks them where Gieve went since he hasn’t seen the guy for the last few days, one of them replies in a round-a-bout way that Gieve is at a brothel by saying something along the lines of, “Oh you know, there are pretty women from 60 different countries gathered in this city after all.”
And Arslan, that precious child, be like:
(Translation from Chinese text)
Arslan nodded with a laugh, and then the young man, surprisingly, made a joke.
“Even if he were to visit one country each night, to go around the world will take at least two months’ time. Such hard work!”
Daryun and Narsus couldn’t help but laugh after hearing that; however, afterwards, they got strangely worried.
“Ah, was that an appropriate moment for us to laugh?”