#SUCH FOND MEMORIES. I knew NOTHING about tabletop and still loved that character concept so much lmfao :'o)

[kaleuh]

FEELING THE FULL RANGE OF EMOTIONS ON THIS THURSDAY MORNING

tell me about ghis GlenMac?

I WILL Tell you about GlenMac !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SO

THIS IS GLENMAC (Official Book Art) AND THEN HERE'S A PICTURE OF HIM WITH HIS BEST BUDDY, Adjunct Professor and Graduate Jackson Green (art that me and my group got commissioned of them by nico on twitter!)

FULL NAME: Glenn MaClanahan (If you're formal, it's Professor MaClanahan, but all the students gave him the nickname GlenMac!)

He's a professor in the Anthropology Department at East Texas University, located in the cozy town of Pinebox, Texas. He and Jackson know fully well that there's something extremely uncozy about Pinebox, though. When you (the player) attend ETU as a freshman, you are quick to notice that there is something very unnerving about the town, and the school. Rumors of ghosts, monsters, and rituals—things that could easily be explained away by pointing at college students and children in town with too much liquor and imagination. GlenMac and Jackson are here to tell your character: No! You are not crazy! You definitely saw the ghost of a student who was burned alive in the gymnasium!

GlenMac (as well as Jackson) are the NPCs in this story who are initially there to serve your character with an introduction to the supernatural. GlenMac can really be any professor-appropriate age (I believe the book says he’s in his 40s but given the book art our DM [my boyfriend!!] deemed him to be 32 in our game. He also thought it would make sense to make him younger since him and Jackson (who is in his mid 20s) are supposed to be close pals.)

GlenMac has been investigating the supernatural for years, and deeply cares about the well-being of his students. Anyone who comes to his office hours for help will never be turned away—especially if "weird stuff" has been happening to them. In his office you'll also meet his life-long companion, a Scottish Terrier named Argyle, with whom he takes on regular walks throughout campus. He is overly caring and self-sacrificing to a fault, though, willingly placing himself in danger to protect someone who needs it. He's aware that students will occasionally stumble upon magic resources and rituals—because of this, he's been said to be searching for a method in which anyone can safely accomplish a ritual...without having to sacrifice anything to the Magical Powers That Be in return. Which seems like a great idea! A Professor with a deep thirst for the knowledge and power of the unknown, also willing to try literally anything, even if it means putting himself at the whims of Possibly Dark Magic for the good of others. It will work out fine for him, is what I've been telling myself!

SO OF COURSE, because it's a TTRPG, not all GlenMacs are the same. Here are some other fast facts about the GlenMac I know, and why I'm insane about him:

When my basketball himbo son (my character Trey) went through a tough breakup during freshman year, him and Jackson played Boggle with him and the party until he cheered up.

Also when my son was alone and sad in Pinebox during summer vacation, GlenMac adorned his best dork-ass dad jock attire and joined him on morning runs (with Argyle).

He's often stressed and formal but under that he is Sweet and A Tad Silly and a bit of a dork and god. we love him for it

GlenMac doesn't really pay attention to current pop-culture stuff online but if you tell him he Lost the Game he WILL get mad.

Unbelievable in that turtleneck.

Grew up in North Dakota, had a big falling out with his parents and has been largely alone. It's implied that he never really had a friend like Jackson, up until him (and depending on how nice your party is to him, your group.)

AND YOU CAN TELL HE'S LONELY. GOD. HE PUTS EVERYTHING INTO THIS WORK AND HIS STUDENTS. How much time he spends alone with his thoughts...the supernatural stuff probably pushed anyone he cared about away. He has his little apartment with his folded-cornered books and half-finished coffee cups and toys for his dog...but we want him to meet someone So bad 😭 (GOD I wish it were me.)

His desire to know the unknown and try things "just to see if he can" is dangerous, reckless, scary, and a little unhinged...he a little fucked up...I'm scared for him...(but its also...😳...).

This is not canon to our game but we keep joking about how girls on Rate My Professor won't stop referring to him as "Big Mac" and that he's desperately been trying to get those reviews removed.

If you ever get curious about East Texas University, I highly recommend it! I love the Savage Worlds system so much!! We're playing the East Texas University “Degrees of Horror” adventures, which is the "main plot" campaign for East Texas University (we also do some 12-to-Midnight adventures.) I think the story can be set anywhere in the 2000's so we just set ours in modern day.

We're not finished yet, but it has truly been a life-changing story so far!

GENUINELY, TRULY, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING

[irndad]

lessons in love- b.b.

a/n: unofficial entry for @sgtjbuccky and @jaamesbbarnes follower celebration! i wasn’t able to snag a prompt in time, but i love you guys so much!!

summary: the things bucky barnes has learned while being in love, and the woman who taught him them. (it’s really sweet ur gonna finish w cavities)

wc: ~2k

In the mornings, she glows like starlight.

His mornings are different than they used to be. There was a time, not long ago (especially in the reference of his life), where time wasn’t an object, where days and nights would pass, and he would stay the same, stay in pain, stay chained or frozen or doing nothing he wanted but everything he was told.

It’s a strange kind of lovely, to wake up when he pleases, with sunlight falling all over his body, in the warmth of his own home. Stranger to have this woman, this tiny piece of heaven wrapped up in his arms. It’s golden all over, warm light and sweet vanilla lotion, the memories of laughter and knowledge that more is to come when she wakes.

She wakes as he thinks of it, and turns to look up at him, and he is as in awe of her as he always is. She smiles at him, her hands neatly folded over on her chest, propped up just a little bit. Her little sleepy grin- it’s the prettiest thing he’s damn never seen. Her smile is always so lovely, the first thing he noticed about her. The starburst of her eyes when she laughed, how she did it with her whole body, how she let the joy pull her in like a tide she couldn’t resist.

“Hey there, you,” she says, her finger tracing over his flesh arm. She’s on her back, next to him, and his metal one is on her back.

“Hey,” he says back, dragging her closer. She’s smiling still, warm fingers running up and down the length of the metal, a certain sort of warmth written across her features. SHe’s always been open with him, see, letting her thoughts paint her face like those green lights in the sky.

“What do you want to do today?” her voice is light, soft and sweet like warm butterscotch, and this is a thing she teaches him.

From the moment they met, she offered him the world. Let him decide things, small things, the type of tea they’d drink, which restaurant they’d go to. He’d never had sushi before, and on their third date, when she laughed at him drinking his nose because wasabi is spicy, okay, he felt like-

He felt like it was 1940, like he was the kind of man who knew how to love a girl right, how to be the kind of man who could be what she deserved.

She picks too, all the time, but the luxury of choice, of taking a beautiful girl on a date, in places like a sushi restaurant or a dive bar or a show-

She taught him normalcy isn’t out of the question, in fact- it’s in reach. Healing his happening, before he could even see it coming.

“I don’t think I really want to do anything, today,” he says, “I think you’re all the plans I need.”

____________________________

There is a certain kind of joy that is buried so far within the Winter Soldier, wrapped up in Bucky Barnes, so far from the man anyone could see.

He remembers things, sometimes, in dreams. The way his ma used to laugh, how she’d look at his father like a miracle, how she’d hum and dance while she cooked, and this simple, kind, forgiving love was something he’d known, something even then, had cherished.

And he’d forgotten.

More had it stolen, really. Time’s hard to grasp, and more often than not, he’s not sure if he’s ready to do any of what he does. Not ready to be an Avenger, not ready to be what everyone needs.

And he’d fallen in love, and on a summer day, heat wrapping around their home like a vice, the woman he loves is there.  She is humming, mixing something over the stove, wearing shorts and a tank top, humming something light, along to the radio. They have a little tabletop one, something she found in a vintage shop (which is honestly insulting because he’s pretty sure the thing is younger than him so fuck that). And she’s dancing to some song, and she spins around, dancing slightly to her own music.

She’s really- she’s the stuff stars are made out of, and, everyone is, really.

He knows, cognitively, that she is not so special. She is not the result of some omnipotent being blessing his life with something incredible. He knows she curses too much and burns her mouth on coffee and gets carried away easily.

She’s not perfect. God knows 70 years have taught him nothing is.

But she’s his girl, his girl who laughs too loud and loves too much and dances like no one’s watching even though he’s everything to her.

When he kisses her, he realizes something he maybe already knew. No one feels like enough, no one feels ready or worthy.

But she pulls away, and looks at him like a miracle, and he knows. He knows what’s truly possible.

___________________________

The fact of the matter is, she’s not the kind of woman who sits til, who’s only job is to look pretty and attained galas and be on his arm.

No, she is much more than that, strong and brilliant. She is more than the man she loves, more than her beauty, more than what people see.

But she is only human.

So on the days when she comes home and every over breath is a sigh, a heave of a weight too heavy to carry, he knows this. There are days like this one, where she is tired, and her bright eyes are dampened by stress and a clear sadness. She’s his whole heart, a piece of him, and he wants to gather her up in his arms, love her whole.

She couldn’t do that for him, no one could. He can’t for her.

So instead, he walks closer to her, brushes his left thumb over her cheek, standing between her parted legs, looking down at her with the ghost of a smile crossing his face. She’s sitting, on her desk chair, and he swears he sees tears welling up in her eyes

“Hey, you,” he says, as tender as he can muster. All he can think is give me a smile, please. As if a simple upward curve of lips could fix everything. Fix anything.”

“Hey sergeant,” she says, and there’s the teary voice. It’s his girl though, the one he loves so much, still flirting with him, a bit silly, when she’s the one who should be romanced, swept off her feet.

Because he’s a super soldier, he pulls her up, in a swift motion, and god it’s worth it to hear her quick giggle, and for her to be eye to eye with him.

“I look like a mess,” she says, wiping her eyes quickly, a stray tear or two escaping, rid of like they’re poison.

“You look beautiful.” He says it like an oath. She gives him another smile. “You always do.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re legally required to say that.”

“Didn’t you hear? No governments have control over my brain or anything anymore. I can decide what I want to say,” and he places his hand on the small of her back, pulls her in closer, “And I think you look gorgeous.”

She grins, the littlest thing, and leans her forehead against his.

She trusts him, when he wraps his arms around her middle, and she reciprocates. She trusts him, when he kisses her temple, lets her decide what she’ll tell him and when she does it.

“I love you for so many reasons, though.” He says, because he wants to, and he can. “You’re the loveliest thing I’ve ever known.”

And he taps her chest, with his metal finger, and it’s all so silly, so dreadfully sentimental, his girl crying in his arms and him tapping her heart and telling her what she’s worth to him.

But when she kisses the tip of his nose, and hugs him back, it’s the kind of sentimental, the kind of richness you can excuse having, because it’s worth the sweetness.

Maybe 100 years ago he wouldn’t have known how to do this. He was young and stupid, and even then, he didn’t know how to love right, didn’t know how to be the other half of someone’s heart, how to be what someone like her needs.

It’s an ability he holds close to his heart, and just like so many things, he wants her to have the best of it, best of him, and with any luck, she will.

_________________________

One morning, it occurs to him, slow as the sunrise and warm as the sun. They’re watching something on TV, her head on his chest, her fingers distractedly brushing up and down the length of his arm. She smells like vanilla and gold, and her messy hair is a halo across his chest.

It’s not particularly interesting, the show they’re watching. It’s some random show on Netflix, and she’s focused on the screen, her eyes trained on the characters, and he swells with fondness.

It hits him, her so close to him, wrapped up safe in his hold, that she is the best thing that ever happened to him. He can imagine what the shrill cynic in him would say that he doesn’t have the best of experiences to compare it to.

But she’s a work of art, from the way she laughs, to how she fumbles with her phone to take a photo of him, how they text in post mission meetings, how she calls him Sergeant, how if he ever nicks himself on anything, she puts a band-aid on it even though they both know he will heal within hours.

It’s care and kindness that fills his life, with her in it and the warmth she provides. There’s lessons to be learned about healing and changing and how to love when being whole seems like an incorrect concept. Maybe it is.

“You’re staring,” she says, and it’s a testament to how welcome her presence is that the sudden appearance of her voice is soft like waves upon the sand. Never anything but welcome.

She’s baiting him to do the thing they always do, easy conversation of love and dosmeticity and-

It’s not the right moment. He’s got the ring, and he really should take her to some fancy place, do something that matches the amount of joy she brings to him every second of every day. This is a moment on the couch, watching shitty TV. It’s not the right moment. The ring’s in a different room.

“Marry me,” he says, like it’s the most sacred thing he will ever say.

Her eyes are wide, bright and gorgeous like she’s surprised, but he’s not sure if she’s happy-

“Are you- are you serious?”

“I have a ring- I know I should’ve taken you somewhere, I actually have a reservation and I had this whole speech,” and he’s losing it, what he hoped this would sound like, smooth like vinyl and romantic and what she deserves,  “I just- I want to be next to you. Like this. Forever.”

It’s not enough. Not like the stories she reads. He’s not telling her her smile is the best thing in his world, how the way her hand feels his is the closest thing to peace. He hasn’t told her how she makes him a better man, how he loves her for everything she is, for all the things she’s taught him about life and love.

But when she gives him a watery smile, he has more to be grateful for, because she knows. She’s like that. She knows him.

“I’d be honored to, Sergeant.”

She kisses him then, laughter and tears and messy, hardly picture perfect, but perfect.

Perfect in all the ways a thing can be. In all the ways he’s learned to love.

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