We’re playing an underdark campaign; party includes barbarian (me), monk, fighter, and cleric, and we’ve been taken to a large city. We’re not welcomed of course and I’m a CN dwarf barbarian. The cleric, a drow tells me not to get into trouble. Naturally I make my way to the closest tavern.
DM: So you enter the tavern and take a seat at the bar. While you’re waiting on your drinks you hear a group of loud Duergar boasting in the corner.
Me: Do they look tough?
Me: DO THEY LOOK TOUGH?!
DM: yeah they’re pretty huge
Me: I go over to the table and challenge their strength!
Me: I’m a barbarian no one’s tougher then me!
DM: alright so you go over to their table and challenge them all to an arm wrestling contest. Roll for strength for all 3.
Me: Aw yeah! Let’s do this, rolled 16, 19, and 20.
DM: You beat them quite easily, they all howl with laughter and say. “Lugo! Get out here we’ve got a tough guy!” The largest Duergar you’ve ever seen steps through the back door, he’s so huge he shouldn’t really be considered a dwarf. “So you think you’re tough?”
Monk: See! this is why you don’t do this! You’re screwed man.
Me: I ain’t scared lets get it!
DM: Roll strength, my man I’m just saying walking a way is always an option
Me: Rolls a nat 20
DM: Whelp, You square up to arm wrestle and destroy the guy. You slam his hand on the table so hard it breaks the table. The room goes silent all the Duergar in the room just look at you.
Monk: You’re so screwed they’re going to kill us all and it’s all your fault!
DM: The Duergar start cheering and start to carry you off chanting “Bring him to the temple of Asmodeus.
After being taken to this temple they make me a champion of Asmodeus and I get covered in tattoos and become the leader of a sect of barbarian Asmodeus followers. The rest of the party meets up and they all stare at me. The cleric is the last to show up and just goes bananas.
Cleric: What did I fucking say! What did you do?!
Me: I’m huge now, and I kinda lead a pack of Asmodeus worshipers.
Cleric: I fucking hate you so much.
Me: I’m huge though.
The rest of the party just busts out in laughter, me and the cleric now butt heads on everything, it’s great this campaign is going to be hilarious.
When you drop a glass or a plate to the ground, it makes a loud crashing sound. When a window shatters, a table leg breaks, or when a picture falls off the wall, it makes a noise. But as for your heart when that breaks it is completely silent. You would think as it is so important it would make the loudest noise in the whole world or even have some sort of ceremonious sound like the gong of a cymbal or the ringing of a bell. But it is silent and you almost wish there was a noise to distract you from the pain. If there is a noise it is internal. It screams and no one can hear it but you. It screams so loud your ears ring and your head aches. It trashes around in your chest like a great white shark caught in the sea, it roars like a mother bear whose cub has been taken. That is what it looks like and that is what it sounds like a trashing, panicking, trapped great, big beast roaring like a prisoner to its own emotions. But that is the thing about love, no one is untouchable.
Jimin stared at your
back as he watched you leave, forcing you out of the home you shared and away
from his sight, the very thought of you sending a wave of anger through his
He wasn’t sure which
part made him snap, whether it was the look on your face or the way you dared
ask him to see it from his perspective, as if he didn’t understand what it was
like to deny a soulmate. He knew exactly what it was like, but obviously you didn’t.
How long did it take
for you to go running into Jungkook’s arms? How many times had you lied to his
face to go see him, stringing him along as you lived a double life where you
got to enjoy being loved by both of them, keeping them in your palm?
Sansa’s first scene in A Game of Thrones, and the readers’ introduction to her from a POV perspective, starts with her feeding Lady under the table, and I’m quite sure this was intentional.
“I’ve never seen an aurochs,” Sansa said, feeding a piece of bacon to Lady under the table. The direwolf took it from her hand, as delicate as a queen.”
Septa Mordane sniffed i disapproval. “A noble lady does not feed dogs at her table,” she said, breaking off another piece of comb and letting the honey drip down onto her bread.
“She’s not a dog, she’s a direwolf,” Sansa pointed out as Lady licked her fingers with a rough tongue. “Anyway, Father said we could keep them with us if we want.”
The septa was not appeased. “You’re a good girl, Sansa, but I do vow, when it comes to that creature you’re as willful as your sister Arya.”
Like Sansa, Lady is courteous and perfectly disciplined. By hiding Lady, Sansa keeps up the appearances of a noble lady, but she refuses to let go of Lady. Lady is her tie to her Northern heritage, and her identity, and in her first scene, Sansa has learned to hide Lady. Sansa is not openly rebellious like Arya, who skips meals with the Queen to go riding with her friend, but she makes sure her rebellions are small, silent, and disciplined. When Lady dies, Sansa loses that concrete tie to her Northern identity, and while in Kings landing she has to sever any open connection or loyalty to her family. When she becomes Alayne she has to submerge her identity even further, but I think the key to her character the constant small assertions of her identity: her trips to the Godswood, telling Joffrey Robb might bring her his head, telling Cersei she will make the people love her, not fear her. These are all small assertions of who Sansa really is, a glimpse of when she keeps “under the table” in her mind.
Well that post about kisame and shark characteristics said the hoshigaki females would be generally bigger, more muscular etc. So just, kisame sees the pink headed blob from behind and like ew a weak one but then she turns around and bam memories of his mother accidentally breaking tables/doors/walls come to mind bam he's in love
I should absolutely definitely totally be finishing the next chapter of reverse right now what have you done
Nagato looks like he’s about to start stabbing people, which
Kisame thinks likely isn’t the best way to walk into a peace conference with
“Obito,” he says tightly, as the volume of Konan and
Yahiko’s bickering increases. “I am very fond of you, but if you don’t stop
complaining I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”
Obito rolls his eye, but he does stop fidgeting with his
shakujo, sinking back flat on his feet rather than poised on the balls of his
toes, and Kisame allows a fraction of the tension in his shoulders to ease.
Having their resident powerhouse to slightly wound isn’t good for the nerves.
“Fond,” Obito says instead, pulling a face. “Gee, thanks.”
Nagato looks exasperated, and turns to his partner with a
huff, but Kisame has been walking between Konan and Yahiko and Sasori and
Deidara since they left Ame; he’s had more than enough of couple quarrels for
the next lifetime and change, so he squeezes past their honorable(-ish) leaders
and makes tracks for the clear field they agreed on for negotiations, figuring
he may as well scout the area. Nagato will likely do one better as soon as he
gets his head out of his ass, being a sensor and all, but for now Kisame steps
out of the trees and takes a quick glance around the field. It looks like it
would make a good battlefield in another life, open and free of most
obstructions, but as it is there’s only a single other figure visible.
Deciding he may as well be friendly, Kisame puts on his best
smile, trying not to show too many extra teeth, then slings Samehada over his
shoulder and wanders towards the kunoichi inspecting a lone outcropping of
boulders. She’s small, lean, with short pink hair held back by a Konoha
hitai-ate. Almost despite himself, Kisame feels a flicker of resignation, expecting
another weak, stuttering, flailing girl. Objectively, he’s well aware that most
kunoichi can’t be held to the standards of the Hoshigaki Clan, but Kisame grew
up with women who were a good two heads taller than him and twice as broad, all
muscle, and able to break a table in half without a thought. Anything less
invokes an instinctive distaste, and—
The small, pretty kunoichi makes a sound of deep
frustration, rears back, and punches the boulders hard.
It’s probably upwards of six tons of rock, and with one
direct blow the entire formation shatters into dust.
Kisame’s jaw drops, and he practically trips over his own
feet. Oh, he thinks, and then Oh! And maybe she’s not quite as tall or
broad as his mother and sister but as she spins to face him he realizes she’s
nowhere near delicate. Those are thick muscles, just as honed as his own, and
the way she balances herself says she knows exactly
how to use them.
“A kunoichi!” Kisame says, utterly delighted.
The young woman eyes him like he just said something dumb. “Haruno
Sakura,” she says, like it’s a warning.
It might be, but Kisame’s been so focused on Ame and helping
rebuild Akatsuki after Madara’s attempt to corrupt it that he hasn’t had time
to leaf through the Bingo Book lately. Now he wishes he had, because wow.
“You!” he repeats. “You’re a real kunoichi!”
Sakura blinks, taking half a step back as she falls out of
her fighting stance, and she looks startled and just a little flattered. “Um?”
“Could you bench press
me?” Kisame presses, already advancing in anticipation.
Baffled, Sakura blinks at him for a moment, then snorts,
tugs up her fingerless gloves, and cracks her knuckles. “Why not,” she asks in
bemusement, and Kisame wastes no time leaping for her.
(“Oh gods, really?”
Nagato demands, pressing his hands over his face in clear despair as the
remaining members of Akatsuki file into the meadow.
Obito just snorts. “At least he’s having fun,” he says
dryly, and a surreptitious glance across the field shows that Kakashi is
watching his student toss around a deadly, homicidal missing-nin with no small
amount of horror.
Obito would absolutely be lying if he said that didn’t factor
in to the way he catches Nagato’s arm and keeps him from marching over to corral
their wayward swordsman. When Nagato shoots him a look of deep betrayal, Obito offers
him a smirk, tipping one shoulder in a shrug. “I thought you were the one who was so invested in peace by any means, Nagato.”
Nagato groans, and the hands go back over his face. “She’s
using him as a weight, Obito! And he’s
“True love comes in many forms,” Obito says, mock-wisely,
and doesn’t even try to dodge the smack that Nagato aims at his head.)
When you drop a glass or a plate to the ground, it makes a loud crashing sound. When a window shatters, a table leg breaks, or when a picture falls off the wall, it makes a noise. But as for your heart, when that breaks, it’s completely silent. You would think that for something so important, it would make the loudest noise in the whole world, or even have some sort of ceremonious sound like the gong of a symbol or the ringing of a bell. But it’s silent and you almost wish there was a noise to distract you from the pain.
A little context: my little brother DMs and 3 of 4 of my campaigns I’ve played are with him. Our dad and step mom expressed interest in trying D&D, so he and I gave them the introduction to playing. I have an undying love for Druids, but I decided to try something new this time. Insert my pure-shenanigans character, Sutha the Half-Orc Barbarian. Low intelligence, lower wisdom, high charisma and constitution. My proposal of this character was “They love music, but are not the greatest player. For whatever reason though, people love it.” Cue our introduction:
DM: So, you are all in a tavern in the evening. Why has each of your characters chosen to be there, and what are they doing?
Dad (the blue dragonborn ranger): I’m looking for someone. I am sitting in a dark corner watching everyone.
Stepmom (elf druid with the sage background): I’m in the city looking for knowledge, and stop by the tavern. I settle at the bar.
Me: I am of course, standing on a table, playing a song on my harp, singing along– I should mention, Sutha cannot sing– and when i finish each song, I down a pint of ale, and begin anew. There is a steadily growing pile of empty tankards around my feet.
DM: How big are you? How much do they weigh?
Me: uhhh… 200lbs, and 6ft 7.
DM: Roll to see if the table holds your weight.
*rolls a 17*
DM: Well, okay then. It is rocking back and forth a lot, but seems to be holding. Roll constitution to see how well you hold your liquor.
*rolls a 15+ 3*
DM: Theres a dozen or so tankards at your feet, and you’re slightly buzzed, but otherwise are fine.
I’m trying to let our parents take it upon themselves to push the introductions, let them find reasons for us to all interact, encouraging them to start roleplaying. I’m using my ridiculous character to make them laugh and get rid of any nervousness. It’s going slowly, my step mom is very quiet, but my dads getting right into character and playing around with voices. Finally, after about 5 minutes of awkward bumbling, I decide to try and give them an opening.
Me: At this point, my table breaks under me.
DM: *Smiling* roll dex saving throw.
Me: * rolls 18+3*
We all laugh.
DM: the table splits clean down the middle, the tankards land all upright, and you land on your feet on top of them.
Me: I look down in shock, and then cheer loudly over the hushed silence, arms raised in the air. I down another pint and start a new song.
Eventually the DM intervened, inserting an NPC who drags us on a quest. I tried, anyways.
maybe could you do a reverse of betty playing with jugheads hair/suspenders and do one where he plays with something on betty (not dirty hehe) and getting all flustered and defensive when he gets caught.
Sure! Thankyou! This is kind of my take on him being in love with her blush, like she was in love with his hair.
She was just so damn pretty, it wasn’t fair honestly. How someone that tiny could hold all of that pretty, was beyond him.
She was talking animatedly at the lunch table, hands flailing and lashes fluttering. He could watch her all day, he was content to just stare at Betty Cooper until his eyes hurt and even longer after that.
She was so excited about the new river vixens routine she could hardly stop talking about it, Veronica was equally as excited.
“And then Betty gets to do this sexy as hell booty pop, right B?”
I’m sorry? Booty pop? In front of the whole football team? In that tiny skirt? Well that didn’t sit too well with him. his fingers went to her knee under the table squeezing gently, she looked up and smiled softly before turning back to their group of friends
“It’s not that sexy, it’s just kind of a…bendy thing? Either way, no ones gonna be staring at my butt when they see you walk out Veronica. Especially when you do that split Cheryl’s teaching you.”
She smiled at Veronica raising a brow, that launched the raven haired beauty into a whole other story about lessons at Cheryl’s.
“Bendy thing?” Jughead whispered into Betty’s ear, his fingers tracing the stiff fabric of her cheerleading skirt, sending shivers through her spine
“It’s really nothing juggie. Trust me. Nothing to see here.” She blushed slightly fiddling with his fingers in her lap.
God he loved that blush. he loved the way when she was really flustered it traveled all the way down her chest. He loved the way it was always a light rosy pink when she was being modest and a deep flaming red when he whispered dirty words into her ear late at night. He loved the way it looked on her cheeks when he introduced her to his father as “His girlfriend.”
Reaching his hand up to cup her cheek, he ran a thumb along her rosy flushed cheeks, stroking so softly her eyes closed. “Trust me bets, there’s definitely something to see there.”
Her eyes shot open, her pupils dilated, the breathy noise she exhaled going instantly to his pants.
She reached up and placed her hand over his own covering her cheek. “No one but you Jughead. Only you.” She whispered.
She said those words more often than not, slowly mending his insecurities every time.
He rested his forehead on hers gently.
“I love you.” He said softly
“I love you more.” She replied
“Oww you two are seriously going to give me a cavity with how sweet you are.” Cheryl spoke from across the table, breaking them both out of their bubble. They were all watching the couple, everyone, except Archie, smiling with goofy looks on their faces.
“Must you always eavesdrop on our conversations?” Jughead grumbled, grabbing Betty’s hand and pulling her tighter into him swinging his arm around her, and dropping his head to nuzzle into her neck with a groan.
Betty just giggled, tugging on his hat a little to straighten it out.
“Well it’s not like you try and hide it, we are all single young adults, indulge us. You know we live vicariously through your relationship.” Kevin said popping a grape into his mouth with a grin.
“What about Joaquin?” Jughead asked.
The two boys had gotten extremely close and Kevin often confided in Jughead with things he couldn’t tell the girls.
“Ah, tale as old as time. Distance has not made the heart grow fonder.” Kevin said glumly.
“I’ll talk to him today, he should be at the basketball court in the trailer Park.” Jughead said definitely, leaving no room for argument.
As much as Jughead tried to hide it, he was a genuinely good person, he cared about others so much, Betty reached for her boyfriends face and brought her lips to his, placing a gentle kiss to his mouth.
Jughead pulled away smiling lazily “what was that for?” Betty just shrugged and cuddled into his side.
“No reason, I just love you is all.” She smiled up at him.
He matched her smile and dropped a kiss to her forehead, rolling his eyes playfully
“And I love you, more than the stars and the moon.”