team sneakers

Show Me a Dwarf Thief, & I'll Show You a Dead Dwarf

(I play a rogue, and my party was exploring an ancient dwarven fortress from the days when demons flooded the world. So, every other door and every other wall had a trap. Between me and the dwarf skald, we spot most of the traps without a problem. With a few exceptions, such as this narrow hallway:)

Skald: Hey [Rogue], watch that square. It’s a pressure plate.

DM: In fact, what tips you off is in the engravings on the wall, there’s a dwarf pointing it out as if it was a funny prank.

Rogue: Oh, that’s rude. Alright, you can stay outside with the rest, I’m gonna check the rest of the hallway, and jump over the square.

(I make an acrobatics check to make a 10 ft. jump.)

DM: You make it over the pressure plate no problem, and are feeling pretty good about it until you hear the *click* of the floor beneath you. The hallway begins filling with water, and the doors lock behind you.

Rogue: Oh fuck you, dwarf architects.

(Thankfully, the strong party members kept the door open until I could escape. This continues until after we’ve fought scores of undead, beaten two haunts, and disabled a number of door and wall traps. We’ve seen a scorpion tail-shaped poison trap in a vault door, a gunpowder room door rigged to explode, a wall designed to spray acid a la The Mummy, and a chapel built to drop bombs from the ceiling that was left on by the priest before he died. We’re clearing out the last two rooms…)

Skald: [Rogue], another pressure plate.

Rogue: …Alright. I’m going to disable this pressure plate, and then examine IN GREAT DETAIL, the square directly behind it.

DM: Alright, you disable the plate by removing the hydrogen bags connected to them. These would have been opened into the hallway and ignited if you stepped on the plate.

Rogue: Holy shit, dwarves do not fuck around. What about the plate behind it? I examined that as much as possible!

DM: You pry the tile up with your knife, and you hear a *click*–

Rogue (Panicking): NO! EVERYBODY OUT!

DM: –But when you look underneath the plate, it’s clear that the floor tile is designed to make a *click*-ing sound when being manipulated with, say, by a rogue searching for traps. On the underside, the tile reads in dwarven, “Ya think we’d use the same trick twice?”

Rogue: … [Skald], I-I… I mean no disrespect to your race or your culture, but for rogues, dwarves are just… the absolute worst people ever.

Skald: I understand. I admire their craftsmanship and ingenuity, but there’s a reason there are no dwarf thieves.

DM: Okay, to the rest of the party, around the corner, you hear [Rogue] crying.

Rogue: *sobs*!

Rule #1

I’m dming for a group of entirely new players who have never been in a game of DnD before except for one, who happened to be absent this time. The remaining three are a bard, a half-elf rogue, and a tiefling rogue. They were all sleeping in a tree and I told them at random to roll a d20 (it was a perception check). The tiefling got a nat 20, the half-elf a 12, and the bard a 2.

Me: Ok so [tiefling] wakes up to a strange sound. He is instantly alert and looks down through the darkness to see a strange figure in a cloak. Meanwhile, [half-elf] is slowly waking up but unaware of what’s going on, and [bard] is out cold.

Bard: Nice.

Tiefling: So can I tell what I’m looking at?

Me: You have Dark Vision, so yes. You can see that he seems to be a humanoid, in a cloak with the hood pulled up to hide his face, and in his hand is a staff.

Tiefling: I call down “Who are you?”

After having an unproductive chat with the stranger, who just warns them to stay away before fleeing deeper into the forest, the two rogues leave their bard asleep in the tree, where she finally rolls high enough to wake up.

Me: Alright, you two *checks their die* both are managing to follow fairly quietly. You make some noise, but he seems to dismiss it as forest sounds. Meanwhile, [bard] wakes up and-

Bard: Can I see them?

Me: No, they’re way too far into the trees to-

Bard: I start yelling at the top of my lungs “GUYS?! GUYS WHERE ARE YOU?”

Half-Elf: Can we hear her?

Me: Um… *rolls for the NPC’s perception and thinks about the distance* You know what, [bard], roll me a d20.

Bard: *gets a nat 20*

Me: *Laughing* Oh my gosh. Okay, so, yes, you can hear her loud and clea-

Bard: “GUYS?! WHERE DID YOU GO?! WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME?!?!”

Me: - and the guy you were following hears her two, realizes you left her and are following him, and he sprints into the forest.

Both Rogues: WE CHASE AFTER HIM! *Half-elf rolls a 12, the tiefling rolls a nat 1 and lands face first in a thorn bush*

They lost him after that, and made their way back to their screaming Bard.

Bard: “Hey guys. Where were you?”

Her innocent grin was priceless.

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Complex Magazine’s Joe La Puma, interviewed Chris on his insane closet. 

Two rouges trying to assassinate.

So the two rouges are trying to assassinate a NPC one of them being a human rogue the other being a Hengeyokai Rouge that can turn into a crow. This is the conversation that ensued.

Human rogue: so my associates should be here shortly.

Hengeyokai sneaking up in crow form.

Human Rogue: Hey look a crow.

Hengeyokai: Fucking really.

Our Rogue and the general of the mercenary camp they’re currently in the middle of are yelling at each and the general is getting VERY suspicious about this weird party. Things are starting to go down a very precarious a path for my lvl 3 players - I they could I not survive combat here.

Fighter: hey while they’re talking, I wanna try and stealth out the tent.

Me: …so you wanna try to stealth out, from inside this small, well-lit tent that you and your friends barely fit inside of, right beneath the nose of the guard *pointing at map* you are literally squished up against right now.

Fighter: yeah.

Me: …okay.

The fighter Nat 1’s and ends up bringing the entire heavy deer skin war tent down on top of everyone, accidentally stopping the flow of things and sort of accidentally saving the party. Anger subsiding, they are put in the barracks tent to await further questioning.

Stuff happens, and most the camp gets distracted by a commotion on the far side, leaving the party free to sneak out the slit in the fabric at the back leading them straight into the cover of the woods. Everyone’s discussing the plan and what to do after, and begin shifting their unconscious party member towards the hole.

Fighter: hey while they’re doing that, I wanna stick my head out the front and talk to the guard.

Me: you-… wait, so like, you wanna stick your head out to see where he’s at?

Fighter: no I wanna get his attention.

Me: you want to get the attention of the ONLY remaing guard at your tent, who is facing AWAY from you, and is VERY distracted with trying to see what his partner and rest of the recruits are dealing with across the camp.

Fighter: ye

Me: …OKAY

I’m pretty sure that was the first moment the rest of my players considered an alignment shift.

Keep Your Eyes On Me - Chapter 1/? (Rated T)

It all began when I got an idea in my head for a Kagehina fic involving grinding on the dancefloor. But (haha butt), this isn’t just about that. This the start of a fic about misunderstandings, about assumptions, about how complex navigating the world can be for a young queer person in very different ways. With that in mind, this is also the start of a fic with a main char who isn’t always the good guy, even if he is a good guy. Written with love and care and a teensy bit of criticism of the queer community I was surrounded by in college. 

Mild Warnings/Tags: Gatekeeping language. Hookup culture. Alcohol. Derogatory language as endearment. Ensemble cast. Eventually NC-17. (I don’t do unhappy endings, just FYI.)

Thank you to @beleghir for their thorough Kenma read-through and lovely, thoughtful comments! <3 If anyone else wants to talk to me about this fic and the issues I’m attempting to address, my askbox is open.


The room was low-lit in purples and blues and pinks, some projectors borrowed from the theatre department casting wild shapes and sparkles over the ceiling and walls of what was usually the student café on campus. As if the disco balls and rainbow balloons and iridescent garlands weren’t enough…

Well, to the Queer Resource Center’s events committee, they probably weren’t.

Hinata Shouyou tipped his head and slurped at his soda, a little bored. Tonight, as it always happened a month into fall semester, the first QRC-planned dance for the year was going off without… too many hitches. Hinata had a bunch of friends on the events committee, who were all scurrying around trying to make sure there were enough snacks and no one was tripping on the amp wires or doing stupid things college students did (or at least too many stupid things). Which was why Hinata was leaning against the wall near the DJ booth, bored and slurping, instead of socializing.

“Hinata, babe!!” someone yelled over the music, and Hinata rolled his eyes even as his mouth twisted into a smile. He looked across the crowd and saw Bokuto waving a long arm in the air as he bounded over.

“Hell-o,” Hinata said over the thumping bass, eyeing the glitter smattered across Bokuto’s cheekbones, collarbones and shoulders, complementing the kaleidoscope of a crop-top he had on.

After bussing Hinata on the cheek, Bokuto looked down at Hinata’s drink, frowning. “How ya doin’, sweetie? Are you properly lubricated?”

“Gross,” Hinata grumbled, but tipped his plastic cup up as Bokuto pulled a flask from his very tight pants. The pants were a funny color between copper and bronze, which he probably knew set off his bright eyes in the right light. Hinata always felt a little intimidated by Bokuto’s ability to be over-the-top for every occasion, when Hinata usually just put on his white high-tops and his tightest jeans and hoped for the best. At least Hinata had a good relationship with his hair gel, which Bokuto… no, that was probably deliberate, too.

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Wait, wasn't there a halfling ?

A running gag of my campaign. In the party there is a rogue halfing really skilled at hiding himself, even during a conversation. So this happens frequently :

Party (obtaining a reward for a quest) : “Now your troubles should be finished !”

Halfling : I hide behind the crate ! *rolls to hide, succeed*

NPC : “Thanks for your efforts adventurers ! … Wait, wasn’t there a halfling with you ?”

—–

(The party was dining with the villain of the story, and is currently confronting him)  

Halfling : I hide under the table ! *rolls to hide, succeed*

Villain : “Well, now I’m afraid I’ll have to kill you. …Wait, wasn’t there a halfling with you ?”

Halfling : *proceed to stab the villain under the belt*

—–

(The party is infiltrating a castle, the halfling is sent to scout)

DM : A patrol approaches, what do you do ?

Halfling : I hide in the well ! *rolls, critical fail*

DM : While you jump into the well, you see there is no bucket. You fall down in the water down there and take 5 fall damages. *rolls perception, fail* Fortunately, the guards didn’t noticed you. (To the rest of the party) So, the halfling does not come back from scouting.

Party : “…Wait, wasn’t there a halfling with us ?”

||❥ cold water, rated; M

w o o z i ! s c e n a r i o

b a s e b a l l ! a u                                                   

words; 19.8k

genre; hahaha u know some fluff, smut, tears??

synopsis; a very lengthy story regarding the school’s most talented baseball player and you, his precious girlfriend, surviving the year based on a promise and many… interesting events to come;)  


A chilly breeze swept crinkly brown leaves across the grass and onto the rippling sheet of water before you, the air crisp yet dry as the months got colder. Goosebumps began to prick along your skin, a sudden shiver trickling down your spine and forcing you to wrap the thin jacket you were wearing even tighter against your body. 

The ground felt lumpy and some grass patches had not yet defrosted their morning sheen. You were never a fan of the cold, though it did give you an excuse to wear oversized sweaters and thick, fluffy socks. But today, you were without both of those things, the tip of your nose slowly turning more numb by the second.

When is he getting here? You grumbled inside your head, an impatient huff of air pushing from your lungs. Around 15 minutes had passed since you arrived at the lake and he was still a no show.

The school is right around the corner, you cast a glance over your shoulder, the only sight being a lady bundled in a red coat walking her dog, if he doesn’t show soon then I’m gonna spilt. You turned back to face the lake, the silvery glaze of water reflecting the sturdy willow trees that dotted along the shoreline. Another shiver rushed down your back at the thought of how cold the water must be, it’s icy currents nipping and swirling around your delicate flesh. Subconsciously you started to grind your teeth.

Almost any body of water made you uncomfortable, and when you were left alone with your bustling thoughts, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about how awful it would be to get sucked underneath the liquid surface, all the breath being ripped from your lungs as your limbs thrashed wildly through a darkening abyss. Your own heart beat began to quicken, eyes unable to look away from the sight in front of you.

If it weren’t for the hand that slowly slid over your shoulder, you might have pushed yourself crazy, a slight gasp escaping your lips as you turned to see who disrupted you. An immediate warmth flushed through your body at seeing his gummy smile, the pearly glow of his teeth almost too bright for your widening eyes.

“Sorry I was late, the line for hot chocolate was long as fuck.” A vibrant laugh rumbled in your chest, the rich smell of the steaming drink in his hands causing you to inhale a deep breath. You felt nothing but a tingly warmth when you took the cup from his grip, the bitterness to your fingers now fizzing away until you could fully sense their movement. He shuffled beside you and adjusted the hood over his baseball cap, his glossy eyes reflecting the sheen of the water.

“I was gonna cuss you out for being late but since you brought me hot chocolate, I’ll let it slide, Jihoon.” His crackly laugh almost warmed your heart more than the smooth velvet sliding down your throat, a satisfied exhale of air leaving your lips to fade into the parched air.

“But baby, you’re so cute when you’re mad.” He sang, his fingers coming to pinch the flushed skin of your cheek. You were expressionless as Jihoon grinned at you, his eyes falling to crescent moons at your tasteless response. A snarky comeback was ready to fire from your tongue, but a sneeze beat you to it, Jihoon’s hand snapping away from your face as your upper body jolted forward.

“Thanks for the warning.” You were lucky you pressed the lid over your hot chocolate before you took your first sip, because you may have spilt the broiling liquid all over your lap. Maybe then you wouldn’t have to worry about the cold, but it didn’t seem too worth it to scald yourself in the process. After fishing around in your pocket for a tissue, Jihoon began to unzip his much thicker black jacket, a heavenly warmth suddenly covering your back and around your shoulders.

“You dork,” you hissed as Jihoon scooted closer to you, now reduced to a hoodie, “you’ll freeze.” His arm slipped around your waist while he took a long gulp of his hot chocolate, clearly unbothered by the cold. Before you could nip in with another retort, Jihoon nuzzled his lips against your cheek and placed continuous splotches of kisses, and though you wanted to further pester him about why he shouldn’t always be giving you his jacket, you were finding it difficult through the ear to ear grin that was forcing its way across your lips.

“Well you’re already freezing, now shut up and drink your hot chocolate. I spent more than I wanted to on it.” And just like the flip of a light switch, Jihoon was back to his snappish ways, though you knew there was nothing but affection behind it. Stifling the grin and intense butterflies that tickled the inside of your stomach, you returned to finishing your hot chocolate rich with flavour and warmth, enjoying every minute of it before school started. As you were getting ready to leave the lake, Jihoon tossed your cups out in a nearby garbage and proceeded to stretch his arms high above his head, a tiny whine escaping his lips.

“So, will you let me teach you to swim this summer?” Jihoon asked with a soft glow in his eyes, your hand instinctively reaching for his on your way along the sidewalk. While rubbing your thumb over his milky skin, you cast a look towards the cracked cement and shook your head, every single one of your worries weighing you down like lead.

“I don’t think so.”

“Seriously? I’ve been asking since forever, you know I won’t let you drown, right?” Jihoon replied in a longing tone. He felt a slight sting at the thought you didn’t trust him enough, he knew full heartedly he would never let anything bad happen to you, after all you were the one he loved. Your jaw tightened and your lips pressed into a thin line, nothing but images of swirling water sucking and dragging things under its dark blue surface making you stumble on your words.

“I-I, know… It’s just, I don’t think I can do it, I’ll suck.” The school started peaking into view, the final bus slowly rolling away from the curb after a swarm of grumpy looking students stepped off. Jihoon’s grip momentarily tightened on your palm, a light sigh heaving past his pink lips.

“You won’t suck, it just takes some adjusting, some getting use to.” He mumbled. Eventually you both came to a halt near the entrance to the school, Jihoon’s jacket still heavy on your shoulders. Your morning classes were different, so you had to get your goodbye over with. After regretfully returning Jihoon’s jacket, his hand slid around your waist and he smoothly tugged you close to him, his tongue slowly licking the plump flesh of his lower lip. 

Your fingers took purchase in the sleek material of Jihoon’s coat, the fabric slightly balling in your grip when his warm palms delicately cupped your cheeks. The top of your head lightly pushed up his baseball cap during your sweet and slow tempo kiss, the only taste being the chocolaty flavour of your past drink. It was hard to pull away from his encompassing warmth, even when your kiss was interrupted by the loud cheering of Jihoon’s name, his friends from the baseball team clapping loudly for him.

The bubbling fire in your stomach still blazed when you both shared a breathy chuckle, his forehead resting against yours so he could admire the depth of your glittery eyes. Jihoon’s thumbs affectionately brushed against your now heated cheeks, the kitty curl to his lips growing wider when his friends continued to shout for him.

“I’m pretty sure I gotta go,” he sighed while you returned his stare, “but I’m not dropping the swimming thing.” You snickered as Jihoon placed one final peck on the tip of your nose, your hands coming to fold together in the warmth of your thin jacket. When he began to move away from you, you swallowed the lump in your throat and called out to him,

“If you guys make it to the championships this summer, I promise i’ll let you teach me how to swim!” You never thought the words would leave the tip of your tongue, yet here you were, standing in the bitter breeze with your toes about to fall off, putting one of your biggest fears in the hands of your boyfriend’s baseball team. Jihoon turned around while still shuffling backwards, his fingers coming to adjust the black cap on his head,

“Piece of cake, baby.” He chimed, his little smirk making you bite the inside of your cheek and cast a shy glance towards the brick wall. You were sure you’d just screwed yourself, Jihoon’s team didn’t whip baseballs out in fields of wispy snow for the hell of it. They loved to win, and you were positive you were going to lose.

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Letters from Lance Chapter 1

Hey guys, here’s another Klance fan fic. This one is going to be a mini series about Lance writing letters to you about his high school days and feelings for Keith. 

Summary: Lance McClain was told to write letters about his problems after he reunites with his ex, Keith Kogane, during a high school basketball game. The reunion sparks an old flame that Lance desperately wants to put out.

Dear you,

To those of you reading this, hi, my name is Lance McClain. I’m a sixteen year old guy who tweets about his Starbucks runs and takes selfies that use the hashtags natural and no filter. Give me a break. Like I said, I’m sixteen. 

I’m writing to you because Shiro, the counselor at my school who acts like everyone’s dad, said I needed to get some things off my chest. So here goes nothing.

At my school everyone keeps score on how many girls and guys they slept with or basically cheated on throughout the school year. Well me, yeah, just keep this between us, but I’ve never slept with anyone. Girl or guy. It’s embarrassing when you’ve got about twenty guys in the gym locker room tossing around names of who slept with who, while I’m standing there between them trying to keep score of how many exams I failed. Yeah, true story.

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