the...thing

Context: We’re all having fun and joking around since this is the longest play session we’ve ever done. Our ranger and paladin are usually very random and uncontrollable. We just cleared out one room in a dungeon and were moving through an open door when:

Ranger: “I try to take down the door”

Me (ooc): “Why do you do this?”

DM: “you can’t take down, but there are pins in the hinges you can take out to remove it”

Me (ooc): “Why are you letting them do this?”

Ranger: “I take out the pins”

DM: “I won’t make you roll for that. You succeed”

Ranger: “I take the door down”

DM: “Roll for it”

Me (ooc): “Why are you letting them do this?”

DM: “I really don’t know”

Ranger succeeded on the roll, and proceeded to attempt to use the door as a weapon and a shield throughout the entire boss fight while he had 2 perfectly good scimitars, until our wizard NPC incinerated the door with a fire bolt.

Ravenclaw Headcanon

Ravenclaws are constantly thinking too much, and so sometimes when they have conversations, they quickly jump from one topic to another. And a lot of the time the people around them have no idea what the connection between the topics are, but they know that sometimes if they just wait, the Ravenclaw will tell them the connection. But most of the time, they’re kept in the dark.

5

anonymous asked:

I'm so tired why won't they speak up, or shut everyone else up. Like if you aren't going to talk about it but show it to other musicians who give interviews tell them, hey you know just don't mention this anytime soon? I haven't said anything, but he obviously doesn't do that let's them talk about it and he remains quiet.

I do think it’s interesting that his team is allegedly allowing multiple people to listen to the music but we have yet to have any of it leak. When are they going to let Julian listen and hit us with 6 second audio clips?

2

(Originally drawn for FMA Villains Week ‘17 - Theme H: Weakness… but then I belatedly realized I was including a lot of non-villain characters so decided not to tag it in case I was breaking the rules. ^_^;;)

Behold the woman who surpassed the Ultimate Eye. Behold the woman who slapped Wrath upon their first meeting.

Either Mrs. Bradley has some latent super powers OR a young Bradley allowed a puny human he had only just met slap him. Both scenarios are too awesome to imagine.

Anyway! How would FMA have ended if instead of hiding Mrs Bradley, they unleashed her and were like: HEY WE FOUND YOUR HUSBAND LET US TAKE U TO HIM!! And Mrs. Bradley proceeds to lay the smackdown on Wrath (and Pride) and demand they explain themselves this instant!

The world ‘round you seemed to writhe with an unseen heat, or maybe like a mirror whose glass had been made muddy by steam and water. The world within you roiled and curled up, as if it was a beast afraid. This place was wrong and right and very, very different. It reminded you of how the forest felt in the quiet hours before the evening and between the twilight. Like the eyes that always glued to you when she went off the path into the hidden places deep, deep down into the bowels of that motionless beast.

It felt like the sea’s salty breath when the wind picked up, cutting at her cheeks and eyes and making tears flow silently, like how the river feeds into the sea. It felt like all of that. But it was /wrong/.

The world tilted sideways in the glimmers of the morn, the dew was too fine, too… purposeful to be real. ‘It wasn’t real,’ hissed the voice beneath the bathroom sink. ‘It isn’t yours,’ purred the cat in the back of your mind as it rubbed ‘gainst her legs. ‘It is ours,’ shrieked the crows with their eyes as dark and empty as the eternal nothingness of space.

You had to have a bit of iron, a bit of salt. Those were supposed to protect, but they didn’t. Her eyes—your eyes—revealed all already, no need for trinkets or spells. Though apparently, your eyes were enchanting, or so said the thing that did not even have a face.

‘So beautiful,’ it would coo to you as you tried to sleep. The salt had been moved—blown away—your door open. This thing with limbs stretching and contorting into shapes that weren’t right, not in this reality. Not in any that you would know. ‘They shine like the stars when you look at them through the leaves,’ it sang, though it sounded more like a growl. The Fair Folk knew not how to sing. They only knew pretty words. Even then, those came out wrong.

It touched your face, once. You flinched away but still it touched you, cupped your cheek with a hand which had far too many fingers. ‘I could whisk you away,’ it threatened. It was a threat. The words came out sweet but the sweetness hid only the deep, dark poison within. A hand reached for a dagger wrought of iron and fear and pure rage hidden ‘neath the pillow. ‘I would end you if you tried,’ you replied. No more sweetness, there.

You would fight.

Why wouldn’t you?

It left that night. It didn’t return. You’re glad for that.

The world coiled around you like a serpent choking the life out of a rabbit. The eyes of those things with long faces and shadows that turned in ways completely without respect for how the human mind worked watched you. Followed you. Hunted you.

You kept your dagger very close whenever you slept. Maybe you should trade it in for a sword.

Basically this story is about a girl with the Sight who may not truly be human, who fears deeply the horror happening around her just unseen. She hears what they say and she is too, too scared.

Basically this place mcfuckin sucks for those naturally with the Sight.


TAKE UP FENCING MY DUDE DO IT but yes it would be the absolute worst to have the Sight involuntarily and also what a lovely terrible contrast to the romance of the last few stories.

shady-swan-jones  asked:

i have just the thing for to wake your fluff muse up: cs + You just woke up from surgery and you don’t remember me or that we’re married or have a kid because you’re so high but you flirt with me anyway au

okay, so, wanna hear something hilarious? sophie sent this prompt to me     A G E S  ago, and i started writing it, and then it got lost in the abyss. i’m so glad you sent it to me again. so…take two! i hope you like it!

also, to @killiansdevotedheart! surprise! i’m your CSSV! consider this your pre-gift because i’m still working on your actual gift but i want you to still have something. enjoy for now!

TELL ME THAT YOU LOVE ME SO

Emma knows she shouldn’t be so worried. It’s a simple appendectomy, after all—the removal of an organ human biology deemed no longer very useful years ago. She shouldn’t be so worried, especially after the doctors assured her she brought him in just in time.

(“A few more days and we would have had a mess on our hands. You did good, Emma, even if it meant dragging him here against his will.”)

Doctors assurances don’t mean much in the grand scheme of things, because it’s Killian, after all—

Killian, who spent two weeks in pain because he didn’t want to trouble her.

Killian, who sat through Henry’s ceremony in utter pain because he didn’t want to miss it.

Killian, who let his appendix almost burst because he didn’t want to be a burden.

— And yet she’d murder him herself if he didn’t make it out of this, adding a whole new meaning to the whole “til death do us part” portion of their vows.

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