the party's alright

I can’t believe Stephanie Cordato Patrick accidentally ended up at a sketchy Halloween rave party in an abandoned warehouse without a floor.

I am incredibly interested in how she ended up there, especially considering she said you had to pay some guy on a street corner for a map.

anonymous asked:

1/2 So I run DnD/Pathfinder campaigns as the DM sometimes, and one thing I occasionally do with villains/hostile NPCs is have them racist. I normally do this for NPCs that the party has to fight already as an opportunity to deal with racist people. Ie: racist wizard trying to establish a racist hierarchy gets punched. I make sure the party is alright with this before hand, and I like giving them a chance to confront racists w/o real life consequences. Is this alright?

2/2 I don’t want to offend anyone, but I find it as a sort of stress relief to let/watch players confront racists trying to establish a hierarchy without consequence and getting torn down and showing characters analogous to current figures as just a racist but in a much more clear way. I find it okay to bring up if it’s in a scenario where it can be confronted and dealt with appropriatly, but again the last thing I want is to encourage anything racist. Thanks for your input, love: me

Hello Anon!

First of, yes, DM’s. D&D is my JAM! <3 Go you for being able to DM, that shit is hard XD

Now, onto the question:
I see nothing wrong with this. It’s a social commentary in a way. As you have explained it I see nothing wrong with it as a poc myself. Of coarse, I cannot speak for everyone, but in my opinion, this is fine. I have a DM that does this as well and I’ve done it a few times myself as a DM. You allow for commentary and for your players to interact with a ‘racist’ in a controlled environment. Who knows, perhaps it will encourage them to someday stand up to a racist IRL or be able to speak up against one because of the ‘practice’ the have had in your camp.

Not to mention, racists make very easy villains. Most people automatically despise racists.

Good Luck, Have Fun, and May the Dice Be Ever In Your Favor!

- Mod Des

At First Sight

Castiel imagine requested by anon! “For Cas, what if only angels soulmates can see their wings, and when the boys introduce you to Castiel, you compliment his wings, the boys can’t see them and wonder why, and Castiel gets all embarrassed and tells you why.” Alright, minions, this is the first installment of a many, many part series. All future installments will be posted on the “The Story Continues…” page. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. On my old blog, this was my single most popular imagine, and my most popular series. I’ve grown incredibly fond. This imagine has been edited for reposting to add a little detail here and there. Hope you like it!

“Look, Y/n, he’s not the tea party type, alright? He’s not used to-” Dean circled his hands at chest-height, his eyes scanning the overcast skies for the proper wording, the exact emphasis he could use to adequately describe this angel you’d heard so much about. Dean settled on a term, his eyes dropping back to yours, cautious and confident in the same moment, emotions swirling together as one. “Human stuff. Give him some time, he’ll get better. You just have to let him get used to you. Trust me; you’ll love him.” He assured, his hand on your back guiding you through the doorway and into the Men Of Letters bunker. You were just now returning home from a rather successful vampire hunt with Dean, having slain three and purified two new recruits. The rough denim of your jeans suctioned to your skin beneath with drying blood, crimson paint coating your body in splashes and bucket-fulls. A lot of blood is produced when you sever a head. You would have been safer, and quite a lot cleaner, in a hazmat suit and galoshes. You admitted you looked atrocious, so splattered in gore as you were, but Dean assured you that Castiel would pay no attention to your physical appearance. An angel thing, he had warned. All they were supposed to see were glowing orbs of light or… he didn’t know, lists of sins scribed across your skin. Dean’s lips had ducked to your ear, lowering his voice despite the fact that you were alone, standing outside the bunker’s second entrance. “Oh, and let him know if you don’t like the whole mind-reading thing. Angel thing.”

You shook the recent memory of Dean’s warnings from your head, quieting your assumptions (lest this Castiel sneak a peak inside your head) as you were lead inside the bunker and down the spiral stairs gracing the foyer. Your hand trailed over the wrought iron railing, the smooth, cold surface gliding beneath your skin, your fingers holding to the banister as long as was possible before your arm smacked into your side. Your feet reached ground-level as you progressed towards the library, your eyes falling on the electronic table you had helped Charlie boot up. Well, holding her hair out of her face as she fiddled with copper wires hardly counted as helping, but she insisted you were crucial to the operation, supplying her with conversation as she broke down the hunting communities most highly protected database. The fixture now served as a map of the world, lighting up with every monstrous location known to hunters and civilians alike. Of course, the civilians had no idea they were waltzing around during human open-season, hence the existence of your occupation.

Dean’s hand left your back stranded, your tie broken like the orbit of a moon around a destroyed planet, his eyes cautioning you once more before directing your gaze to the two men huddled by each other, concealed by a brilliant mass of light and feathers. You felt your jaw unhinge and drop, your vision going hazy from the sheer magnificence of the sight before you. God, how did they even fit in here? How overwhelming it must become, to live in such close proximity to these… these… intoxicatingly delicate wings.The shuddering canopy of gray feathers brushed against the bookshelves, the table, the light fixtures… like liquid, they molded themselves around everything, catching the lamplight like dulled gemstones. The feathers bristled when Dean’s footsteps filled the room, his heavy boots alerting the duo of your arrival before you feet could cross the threshold. Then, as if following the complicated choreography to some kind of obscenely organized dance, the two men turned to acknowledge your return. The feathers skirted around anything they may topple, intricate maneuvers keeping stacks of books from falling to the floor, every single plume flowing as if on a wave. When you found the resolve to turn away from the magnificence around you, you saw Sam’s face was bursting with happiness to see you returned unharmed, though you were coated quite generously with blood.

You sorted through the impossible amount of fluttering feathers until your eyes rested upon an unfamiliar face. The angel’s expression was stoic, unfeeling save his eyes, which pooled with crystalline curiosity, his gaze dissecting your every feature. His shoulders straightened, pushing back with rigid formality, his wings flattening as best they could behind him. For such an immense mass as his wings, the extensions were downsized impressively, though the very tips of his wings yearned for freedom, feathers bristling. You clenched your teeth together, fearing you seemed rude, gawking at the angel’s hardware with such unapologetic curiosity. Then again, the angel’s eyes had done the same to your face. It must be another angel thing Dean had forgotten to mention during your ride home. The Winchester in question stepped forward, gesturing to the celestial being nestled into the confines of the library, both brothers seemingly oblivious to the masses that grew from Castiel’s shoulder blades. Were they really that used to it? You didn’t think you’d ever grow accustomed to the intimidating wings.

“Cas, this is Y/n. Y/n, Cas.” Dean grumbled, taking a seat and kicking off his blood-slick boots as he finished his informal introduction. You gave a little wave, moving forward and into the library with intent to shake the angel’s hand. As you drew nearer, the angel’s eyes widened, though the rest of his face and body remained unmoving. He extended his hand, his palm sliding easily into yours. His warmth was unlike anything you’d ever experienced from so cold a demeanor.

“Nice to meet you,” you mumbled, still awe-stricken. Up close, they were even grander; the feathers were singing against each other, humming a sweet, soft tune. It was as if bells were rung as a lullaby, or (you concluded, unimpressed with your slow-moving connection) as if an angel were singing. He released your hand after an extended moment (or were you just too absorbed in his wings to account for time?), your eyes skirting back to the brilliance behind him. Where the artificial light branded them, they shot off every color you could name, and some you couldn’t, shattering spectrums like a faceted diamond. Their dulled reflections were vibrant now. Perhaps it was your proximity? His eyes, you noticed, had followed yours, a genuine expression of confusion and… diluted relaxation painting his chiseled face. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” you complimented, your tone breathy in appreciation. Castiel’s gaze locked on you, a sudden, silent movement of the eye, his wings going silent, completely immobile, not a single feather daring to move. The angel’s face now held the faint contouring of shock. Sam’s brow was pinched, his mouth quizzical.

“Yeah, he’s a looker, we know,” Dean scoffed, coaxing a chuckle from his younger brother at your apparent loss of control. “Jesus, Y/n, pull it together,” Dean whispered, his smile infectious. You shook your head at their idiocy, too invested in the angel’s glorious wings to bother blushing from embarrassment, your eyes locking with Castiel’s, their ocean-esque depth reeling you in. Perhaps this was an angel thing… those eyes. They were hardened sapphires, glowing internally as if each stone had harvested a single flame. His face had yet to shift, his wings yet to move, his form rigid as a plank under your inspection. Maybe it was rude to stare.

“No… I mean, well, yeah, but… his wings,” You stammered, irritated by the brothers’ lack of interest in the beauty they hadn’t warned you of, watching realization and something close to fear burst in the angel’s divine eyes. Dean made a sound of gruff uncertainty, the sound almost missed entirely under the sound of flustered bells… if bells could become flustered. Castiel’s hand had wrapped around your wrist, his skin flooding your arm with heat, the sing of his wings unwinding as if relieved their owner was in contact with you. Castiel began to move then, leading you to the corner of the library, his hands gripping your wrists by your sides, releasing your hands once your fingers had spread against the wall behind you. The murmuring of bells increased, pealing in what sounded, absurdly, to be a whine.

“The Hell is she talking about, Cas?” Sam inquired, the angel rolling his eyes at his comment, his pupils diving into yours, his attention split unwillingly from his scientific analysis of your eyes.

“She was attempting to make a joke of my race,” Castiel explained, his eyes searching yours with complete concentration. You were certain he was joking, only his tone never deviated from a professional, if slightly disconnected, quality. Sam let out a breathy laugh before turning away, his hazel eyes praising your falsified wit. Your back bit into the wall as Castiel inched closer, careful to keep a respectful distance between your body and his. He lowered his voice, bringing his face closer to your own. He was clearly unfazed by the amount of gore painting your body, just as Dean had promised. "Please forgive my explanation. They cannot… humans aren’t supposed to be able to…” he trailed off, his eyes ducking to the floorboards as he fought for words. “What you see is a fragment of my true visage, something neither Sam nor Dean nor anyone else can view. My wings are only visible to one human. I had assumed that human would never come in contact with me. The odds are very slim,” his voice dropped once again, his eyes scanning the molding that tied the wall to the floor, his head shaking slowly. His ocean eyes lifted to meet yours once again, the fire within burning with a serious intensity. “This gift you possess is granted only to those destined to… fall for an angel. Do you understand? You may have heard it referred to as having a soul mate.“ If his proximity hadn’t startled you, his statement surely did the job. This was not merely an angel thing.

You inhaled slowly, watching his wings unfurl around you like a shield, blocking the brothers from your view. He shifted his shoulders uncomfortably, clearly in an attempt to wrench his feathers away from you, but the duel masses were having none of his resistance; the quills trilled against each other, tips reaching, stretching toward you. He spoke apologies with his eyes, his cheeks glowing dimly with his embarrassment. You tentatively reached for the feathers at the very bottom of his wings, the billowy plumes that were brushing against your side, your fingertip encountering only cloud. Your touch activating a higher pitched song, as if you had excited them. Your heart as well had been excited; you felt as if you’d recently recovered from a high-voltage shock, the way your pulse was racing. Glancing at his face, you realized you’d made him blush deeper, either by your touch or by your presence, you couldn’t be sure. Your mouth stretched into a shaky, timid smile, though your mind was unable to comprehend how you already felt so close to this stranger… but you were not nearly close enough to fling yourself into his arms and prance (or more appropriately, fly) off into the sunset. The angel nodded, his eyes sympathetic and… disappointed, it seemed, though he obviously meant to hide that emotion.

"I’m aware that love is generally a longer process for you, and I’m willing to give you the time necessary for you to be comfortable. It’s… overwhelming, I know.” To this, you nodded, thankful for his understanding of the human species, remembering that your thoughts weren’t safeguarded from Castiel. He ducked his head, though his eyes flickered to your face, closing in comfortable bliss as you buried your fingers in his wings, their exhilarated song filling you with warmth.

  • Dragon Age Origins: Turns out you're basically an accessory to Morrigan's agenda.
  • Dragon Age 2: Turns out you're basically an accessory to Anders' agenda.
  • Dragon Age Inquisition: Turns out you're basically an accessory to Solas' agenda.
  • Me, Playing Dragon Age 4, probably: *squints like a suspicious templar at all of the mage party members* alright which one of you assholes is it

Simon: (can’t find Raphael at one of Magnus’ parties)

Simon: alright folks I’m just gonna go out alone in the dark and probably get attacked again because Camille is still on the loose

Raphael: (pushing people out of his way)

Raphael: (tackles Simon to the ground)

Raphael: over my dead body YOU LITTLE SHIT

Sancoeur - Part Two

I wish I could have finished the whole story in time for Halloween night, but oh well! I’ll just keep on putting up these short little parts within the next few days. (Unless I get a lot of time to write, in which case I’ll put up a lot in one go!)

Here’s a link to the first part! 

Here’s the next part.


“Do you think these are enough lights Nathalie?” Adrien asked looking into the shopping bag that was filled to the brim with orange Halloween lights.

“More than enough.” Nathalie affirmed, not wanting to return with him to the light store again after spending an hour listening to him talk about what lights would be perfect for the party.

“Alright then. Now I have to go buy a bouquet of roses.”

“What on earth for?”

“My costume! I told you Nathalie, I’m going to be Tamaki Suoh from Ouran Highschool Host Club, I’ve got to have roses to give to all the girls!”

“Oh, of course.” Nathalie said, not meeting his eyes as she quickly tried to remember what he had told her when he’d been trying to explain his costume. “Well there’s a shop right ahead of us, why don’t you run in and grab some, I’ll wait out here with the other things.” Nathalie said, pointing forward to a flower shop ahead of them.

Keep reading

  • Tonio, at a party with fellow Vocaloids: Alright, my turn for a joke. Knock knock.
  • SeeU, cheerfully playing along: Who’s there?
  • Tonio: Bloody joke.
  • SeeU: “Bloody joke” who?
  • Tonio: I’m a bloody joke now if you’ll excuse me I need a drink. [leaves]
  • Miriam, placing a hand on SeeU’s shoulder: Don’t worry, he does this a lot.

anonymous asked:

tell me everything about everyone in your adventuring party plz

Lmao alright
Well there’s Pimsire the halfling bard, a noble born little dude who’s super kind and pretty naive to the world, he’s growing up tho. He started the group and is best friends with my paladin. He just wants everyone to be safe and happy and have a good time helping people.

My half Orc paladin Maghnar is fresh out of paladin school, not very experienced. Grew up in an Orc tribe but ran away, scared as shit of his Orc mom. Met Pimsire tho and wants to be a good guy!

There’s Dogweed the human Druid. Total wildcard who does whatever the shit she wants, makes Pimsire nervous that she’s going to get hurt doing impulsive crap. Wise enough to know her decisions are bad, wild enough to go for it anyway.

Halfling rogue Violet is super grumpy and troubled, trusts no one. She recently multiclassed wizard, apprenticing under Tamryndall. Presumably she likes books and has a super tragic past, but she won’t tell anyone.

And then Tamryndall the high elf wizard, he’s a seer who joined the party pretty recently, having had visions of them being part of something important together. He’s a socially inept book nerd with a spider familiar named Albert.

The mostly bumble about the countryside, occasionally taking down some danger that no one will ever know about. Recently hit level 8 though, and are slowly making their way to bigger things.

Playing with the group is a total BLAST and large parts of it are actually recorded haha, so maybe one day we’ll share!