#a relic of better times. before taxes ruined me

[khaliarart]

I‘m months late posting it, but here is my amazing planet Conventia plush made by @appledew ✨

I first had the urge to possess this in 2023 and reached out to about 8 plushie makers, and understandably everyone turned me down. AppleDew really got my vision. It is so true to the original I still can't believe it <3

Also check out the artist‘s original post about it!

[tigerkirby215]

5e Akshan, the Rogue Sentinel build (League of Legends)

(Artwork made for League of Legends by Riot Games.)

HE’S HERE HE’S HERE HESHEREHESHEREHESHEREHESHEREHESHEREHESHERE...

It’s no secret I’ve been excited for Akshan since he was first announced; the prospect of a grappling hook champ was simply too interesting for me. Seeing him now... I’m having slight reservations? I really dislike his Scoundrel mechanic (who had “bring back Garen Villain mechanic” and “revival mechanic” on their 200 years Bingo card?) and I kinda wish the grappling hook was incorporated more into his kit but... he still seems fun? It looks like he plays like a Twitch with more of an assassin focus, and Twitch has always been a fun character. I’m probably not buying him immediately on release but I’ll grab him when he drops down to a standardized price.

But anyways I’m here to build funny grappling hook man! ...Without his grappling hook. Look I’m going to tell you right now that while there is a grappling hook in 5e there’s little way to get a grappling hook gun like Akshan has, and while I’ll do my best to provide options in this build don’t get your hopes up. If that’s enough to make you lose interest in the build I’m sorry, but I do hope you stick around to read it anyways.

GOALS

Reclaimed by the light, yade yade yada... - Reviving people in real life is hard. Reviving people in League of Legends is a little easier. Reviving people in D&D though? Pretty easy.

Stealth time! I mean, stealth time...! - You will never guess what class the character with “Rogue” in their title is.

Only one way out of this mess; skyward! - Like I said I unfortunately can’t give you a grappling hook... gun. I can still give you the grappling hook item, and ways to climb out of dangerous situations!

RACE

Akshan is human according to the lore, so feel free to leave your complaints about Variant Human at the door. You can put +1 into your Strength and Dexterity for super Akshan action! You can also grab proficiency with the Persuasion skill (because how can you say no to that smile?) and whatever language would fit as Shuriman.

Of course Variant Humans get to grab a feat at level 1, and hello Crossbow Expert my old friend! Get that double-shot passive in while also fighting up-close and dirty. Oh and not needing to reload is obviously nice.

ABILITY SCORES

15; DEXTERITY - You’re still a marksman, which of course means Dexterity for shooting.

14; CHARISMA - You fight with a roguish charm. Rules are more like guidelines really, and why follow rules if they ruin your style?

13; STRENGTH - You need strength to throw grappling hooks if your DM doesn’t give you a proper grappling hook gun. Also carrying reobtained loot from warlords is nice.

12; CONSTITUTION - Even if you’re a squishy marksman / assassin having health is still a good thing.

10; WISDOM - You picked a few too many fights with bad people, but you’ve still got a good heart.

8; INTELLIGENCE - Grappling hooks are cool and all but attaching a grappling hook to an ancient relic used to vanquish a prophesized evil isn’t the brightest plan, and ignoring that prophesized evil for your own personal vengeance quest isn’t a good idea either.

Feel free to swap Strength and Constitution if you want better health but worse grappling hook tosses.

BACKGROUND

Akshan was an Urchin before being saved by Shadya. You get proficiency with Stealth and Slight of Hand as well as some tools, but I’d honestly suggest replacing them with Jeweler's Tools and Leatherworker’s Tools to keep your outfit in check. (Mostly because you get Thieves’ Tools from your class and won’t need a Disguise Kit.)

As a Shuriman kid you know all of the City Secrets. When you are not in combat, you can lead your allies through the city twice as fast as your speed would normally allow. Being a street kid does give you some valuable knowledge!

(Artwork made for Legends of Runeterra by Riot Games.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - ROGUE 1

Wow who would’ve guessed the character with “Rogue” in their title is a Rogue?! As a Rogue you get proficiency in Acrobatics, Athletics, Insight, and Deception. But feel free to swap it up to make your own Akshan! You can also get Expertise in Acrobatics for rope-swinging tricks, and Stealth to hunt down scoundrels!

When you find the scoundrels deliver swift Comeuppance with a Sneak Attack! If you have advantage or fight dirty with an ally near the enemy you can do an extra d6 of damage with your shot! And to top it off you’ve spent enough times in the streets of Shurima to know how scoundrels talk and can use Thieves’ Cant to trick them that you’re one of them, or can listen to scoundrels talking to know when to stop them.

LEVEL 2 - ROGUE 2

Second level Rogues can opt not to attack and instead use a Cunning Action to Dash, Disengage, or Hide as a Bonus Action. “To the shadows; where the scoundrels hide!”

LEVEL 3 - ROGUE 3

Third level Rogues get to choose their Roguish Archetype, and to get the ability to swing around on ropes the Thief is about as good as you’re going to get. That’s because Second-Story Work makes it so climbing ropes doesn’t cost extra movement, and also lets you jump further if you have a running start. In addition you have Fast Hands, allowing you to use your Cunning Action to make a Sleight of Hand check, use your thieves’ tools to disarm a trap or open a lock, or take the “Use an Object” action.

Now here’s the thing about using your grappling hook: most DMs would consider throwing a Grappling Hook to be a “Use an Object” action. So as a Bonus Action you can throw your grappling hook and then use your climbing speed to climb up the rope, as if you were grappling upwards! Of course talk to your DM if that’s okay, but if they let it happen you’ve practically got a flying speed at level 3! As long as there’s walls to grapple on, at least. “Akshan, away!”

And to top it off your Sneak Attack also increase to 2d6.

LEVEL 4 - ROGUE 4

Feel free to skip your first ASI if you want some Sentinel abilities first, but I consider Dexterity more important for a Rogue. More shooting, more AC, and better stealth!

(Artwork made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 5 - WARLOCK 1

The Light Sentinels are a powerful, ancient entity who gave you powers in exchange for a set of rules. Just because the one who signed you up is dead and you don’t really follow the rules doesn’t mean you can’t still use their powers! But truthfully I just wanted a Charisma caster and you all know how much I love Warlock. Naturally powers against darkness and undead would be Celestial in nature! While you normally use The Absolver’s Healing Light to revive people healing is also useful. You have a pool of d6s equal to your Warlock level plus one. As a bonus action you can heal a creature you can see within 60 feet of you, spending dice from the pool. The maximum number of dice you can spend at once equals your Charisma modifier. Roll the dice you spend, add them together, and restore a number of hit points equal to the total. You regain all expended dice when you finish a long rest.

In addition as a Celestial Warlock you get Bonus Cantrips like the Light cantrip to see with your dumb human eyes as well as Sacred Flame cantrip to deliver Comeuppance! And of course to get cantrips you also get Pact Magic! You learn two cantrips from the Warlock list like Prestidigitation to be cool and flashy, and Mage Hand which can help you with your... legitimate business.

You can also learn two first level spells like Guiding Bolt and Cure Wounds, straight from the Celestial List! Mark a foe as a scoundrel and keep your friends alive and well! “Go; and die no more.”

LEVEL 6 - WARLOCK 2

Second level Warlocks get Eldritch Invocations: normally you get two but we’re only going to take one for now. But which one? Mage Armor is the best AC you’re going to get until you get magic armor which means that Armor of Shadows could be good, but Mask of Many Faces will let you choose your outfits however you please, and keep them from getting dirty! Basically I’m leaving you with a choice: if you want better AC but worse infiltration go for Armor of Shadows. Alternatively if you want the ability to sneak around in plain sight then Mask of Many Faces is a good choice for you!

You could also learn another Warlock spell but we’re going to wait for...

LEVEL 7 - WARLOCK 3

Third level Warlocks get their Pact Boon, and while the Absolver isn’t quite a “blade” Pact of the Blade is still the boon related to using cool ancient relic weapons! If you want to upgrade Pact of the Blade into “Pact of the Blade and also Sentinel Weapons” take Improved Pact Weapon.

Now here’s where I’m going to have to tell you to homebrew with your DM a little: for whatever reason Improved Pact Weapon lets you summon a shortbow, longbow, light crossbow, or heavy crossbow. Notice that there’s no Hand Crossbow on that list. This (technically) means that you can’t summon a Hand Crossbow, even if you take the Invocation tax for Improved Pact Weapon. Pact of the Blade does let you bind to any weapon... as long as its magical, and the lowest level magical Hand Crossbow you can get is either a +1 Hand Crossbow or a Crossbow of Warning. (Both good items to have but not necessarily something you’ll find in your adventures.) In short the official rules don’t let you have a Hand Crossbow.

Honestly I see no reason why you can’t have a Pact Hand Crossbow, but if your DM’s a stickler about it you can survive with either a Heavy Crossbow or a Longbow. (Depending on your preference.) If your DM doesn’t allow you to use a Hand Crossbow take Sharpshooter as your level 1 feat instead of Crossbow Expert, as you’ll get more use out of it.

tl;dr talk to your DM about letting Improved Pact Weapon let you summon a Hand Crossbow. If they say no edit the build with that in mind.

Anyways you can also learn more spells like Invisibility to sneak around, and Misty Step for good ol’ Flash.

LEVEL 8 - WARLOCK 4

4th level Warlocks can get an Ability Score Improvement... or a Feat! It would be easier just to grab Eldritch Adept now and talk about which Invocation you’ll use it for next level.

You can prepare another spell at this level at least, and also learn another cantrip! For your cantrip Minor Illusion can be used to make distractions while sneaking, and Mirror Image is a good spell to keep alive.

There are other spells you can take instead if you so desire. Lesser Restoration from the Celestial list is never bad to have, and Darkness can be used as a Smoke Bomb which you can’t see through with your dumb human eyes. And of course there’s the obviously good spells like Hold Person or Shatter. I’m trying to build what’s most accurate to Akshan, as well as what I believe would be the most useful. Feel free to change the build as you wish.

LEVEL 9 - WARLOCK 5

5th level Warlocks get more invocations like Thirsting Blade for a bit more attack speed with your Absolver. You can also cash in that Eldritch Adept Invocation to take One With Shadows, to hide in the shade of a wall until it’s time to surprise your foes! “That’s right; it is I!”

And finally we’ve got our revive! Take Revivify to bring someone back from the dead, as long as it was fairly recent. And the best part is you don’t even need to kill the person who killed them! But you will need a lot of diamonds, which can get expensive. “Dear friends: please stop dying. Love, Akshan.”

There’s several other third level spells you could potentially take (notably Thunder Step which might be a good replacement for Misty Step if you don’t mind throwing stealth out the window) but it’s up to you to take them.

(Artwork by @Tsvetyaa on Twitter.)

LEVEL 10 - ROGUE 5

Now that you’ve got the Sentinel part down it’s time to hone your Roguish skills! 5th level Rogues can use their reaction for an Uncanny Dodge, halving the damage from an attack they saw coming. In addition your Sneak Attack increases to 3d6.

LEVEL 11 - ROGUE 6

6th level Rogues get Expertise in two more skills: Deception and Persuasion would be useful to charm your way out of danger.

LEVEL 12 - ROGUE 7

7th level Rogues can swing out of danger with Evasion: if you make a Dexterity saving throw and succeed, you take no damage! And even if you fail you only take half damage! Oh and your Sneak Attack is now 4d6. “Consider yourself, absolved.”

LEVEL 13 - ROGUE 8

8th level Rogues get an Ability Score Improvement: let’s cap off that Dexterity to be the best shot you can be!

(Artwork made for League of Legends by Riot Games.)

LEVEL 14 - ROGUE 9

9th level Thief Rogues can never be found as long as they’re careful. Supreme Sneak gives you advantage on Stealth checks if you move no more than half your speed on your turn. This has insane synergy with One With Shadows as you can turn invisible and then get advantage on stealth (because for some reason being invisible doesn’t do that.) And of course if you go slow and steady you can sneak around just about anything, which is great for when you pop out to do 5d6 Sneak Attack damage! “Ha! I have you now!”

LEVEL 15 - ROGUE 10

Rogues get a few extra Ability Score Improvements... one extra, to be precise. But that means you can bump up your Charisma to be better at socialization and all that Warlock stuff.

LEVEL 16 - ROGUE 11

11th level Rogues get Reliable Talent, meaning the lowest you can roll on a skill you’re proficient in is 10. I always like to go through your skills when you get this ability to show what the bare minimum you can roll is, so...

27 on Acrobatics or Stealth

25 on Deception or Persuasion

21 on Slight of Hand

18 on Athletics

16 on Insight

And your Sneak Attack is now 6d6. What fun!

LEVEL 17 - ROGUE 12

12th level Rogues get yet another Ability Score Improvement, which of course means more Charisma!

(Artwork made for Legends of Runeterra by Riot Games.)

LEVEL 18 - ROGUE 13

13th level Thief Rogues can use any Sentinel weapon they reacquisition thanks to Use Magic Device. You ignore all class, race, and level requirements on the use of magic items, letting you have fun with whatever toys you find. And when all else fails your Absolver now packs a 7d6 Sneak Attack!

LEVEL 19 - ROGUE 14

14th level Rogues are so good at sneaking they can catch the sneakers! You have a 10 foot Blindsense to know if anyone’s hiding near you.

LEVEL 20 - ROGUE 15

Our final level is the 15th level of Rogue for Slippery Mind... You get proficiency in Wisdom saving throws. That’s it. Well how’s about 8d6 Sneak Attack as a final sendoff?

FINAL BUILD

PROS

I’ve got something for you! It’s... comeuppance - Three shots with a Hand Crossbow means three chances to apply your 8d6 Sneak Attack! Akshan is all about burst and burst people down you can certainly do!

Sometimes I even sneak up on myself - Supreme Sneak, One With Shadows, and the Invisibility spell will help you move around in the shadows without being spotted. And even without that you have a minimum 27 Stealth roll thanks to Reliable Talent!

You are reclaimed. Go! Live! - It obviously goes without saying but a little bit of healing helps a lot in the long run. Everyone can appreciate a pick me up.

CONS

You try to rest and some lowlife kills one of your palls! - You have a lot more limited resources than the average Warlock as your Healing Light only comes back after a Long Rest. What’s more is that most of your spells are utility based so it might be hard to get use out of the renewable nature of Warlock spell slots. And to top it off Revivify is expensive! So you’d best be ready to spend a lot of diamonds.

I live by my own code: don’t be an ass - Your Charisma unfortunately isn’t maxed out, which means your Warlock abilities aren’t maxed out. But you don’t really need maxed out Charisma as most of your spells are utility based... I’m just saying Sharpshooter is an option.

Shadya would approve of this... I think - You missed out on level 17 of Thief Rogue which means you don’t get arguably one of the strongest Rogue abilities in the game: Thief’s Reflexes. If you’re not going to get to level 20 anytime soon I think that this build is quite good but if you’re going to get to a high level maybe ditch the revives? (It’s more than likely that Cleric can do it better.)

But you’re enough of a hero without the super-awesome relic weapon that can bring people back from the dead; that’s just an added bonus... as is the grappling hook! Use your natural awesomeness to sneak up your foes and then use your legitimately-obtained weapons-of-mass-absolution to vanquish any scoundrel in your way! And if a depressed ghost king comes knocking tell him that the maximum time limit on your revives expired. “Silly Viego, we can’t bring back those we’ve lost. I mean, I can. But not you.”

(Artwork made for Legends of Runeterra by Riot Games.)

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 57

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

"Professor, can I ask you something?" I asked. Sort of ruining the point of the question but it still stood.

Oscar's eyes rolled slightly and he shuddered a little as Ozpin's spirit took him over while he sat in a desk chair. "Ms. Rose, of course you can. I hope to get that into you by now. Perhaps practice shall make perfect."

"Right."

I'd cornered him in his and Oscar's room in Atlas Academy. It was near ours. In the same wing, even. The ex-headmaster was the only person I'd seen with his own room, though.

"It's about Cinder Fall, the fact that she's two maidens."

"Yes?"

"Well now that she's both spring and fall and the power always goes to the last person on their mind when they die…"

"The last able candidate or someone random." The professor continued for me. He let me press on when I was ready.

"Right, doesn't that mean the spring and fall maidens are one now? Forever? The powers will be together now until…"

"Yes. Perhaps they will be. I have a bit of a plan in this regard. Won't you join me? Rather than sit out in the hall."

I walked in and closed the door behind me.

"Ms. Rose I intend to use my magic to split the powers of fall and spring once more."

"But I thought you'd exhausted your magic."

"For anything large, this is certainly true. I couldn't recreate the maidens nor any one of them. And perhaps gifting powers as I did your uncle and aunt would be too taxing as well. But for the purpose of splitting powers which already exist I believe I have strength enough."

He poured a glass of water in front of him on the desk from a pitcher. "Imagine this glass as the maiden vessel. In this case, Cinder Fall. Now imagine the water inside is the maiden powers."

He poured from the glass into another and slid it across the table to me. I giggled a little and took the glass. I sipped on it.

"Just as so, I believe I can separate the powers of the maidens easily without needing to recreate them. Then however, another question arises. What to do with those powers once Cinder no longer has them. Even the best case scenario has some issues that need to be ironed out."

"I'll do it," I told him. "I'll be fall or spring."

"Ah." He said. "And you think I'll ask you to? A touch arrogant don't you think?"

"Jaune brought it up. He said that you were grooming us, my team, for it."

"And perhaps I was," He conceded. "Jaune was fairly sharp, while he was with us."

"He was smarter than he ever gave himself credit for," I agreed.

"I would prefer to impress upon another of your teammates the powers, Ruby."

"Not me? Why? Is it because of Jaune?"

He raised a hand and I went silent. I took a drink from my glass of water.

"No, it isn't because of Jaune. It's because of your eyes."

"My powers?" I asked.

"Yes. Too many eggs in one basket, you see? If not two members of your team then perhaps Penny Polendina and one of team RWBY. That would play with Ironwood's plan to make Winter the winter maiden. She could work well with both the member of your team and Winter Schnee," he lectured.

"But not me."

"I would prefer not. No. While you are already a target of Salem, I would question adding to that by making you one of the maidens. It does not seem a sane plan."

"Speaking of plans, Professor, I've been meaning to ask. What is your plan to defeat Salem?"

"I intend to keep the relics from falling into her hands. And unite the world while I can."

"But that's not defeating her. That's you winning."

"Is there a difference?"

"I meant stopping her. She has to be stopped."

"Much like myself Salem is doomed to walk Remnant until the relics are united. There is no way to stop her as such."

"I don't understand."

"Much like me. She is immortal."

"So she would keep transferring, if we killed her."

"My girl," he paused and took a deep breath. "I promised not to lie to you. I also promised to tell you the whole truth."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that she is not immortal the way I am. She does not reincarnate. Instead, her body is nearly invincible. She’s capable of inhuman regeneration."

"What?" Oscar interrupted Ozpin before I could say something. "Why didn't you tell me?" He made them sound schizophrenic as he did.

"There has been much to go over. We've been preparing to split fall and spring once more," Ozpin said, voice almost pleading with Oscar. "You need to learn the magic required of you. Before Cinder Fall arrives once more."

"So you don't have a plan to win?" I asked. They turned back towards me.

"I have many plans to win. I have even more plans to not lose. But I have no plans of killing Salem. It is impossible, but that does not mean we have lost. That does not mean it is over for us."

"But she has the relic of knowledge," I protested.

"Does she? Then why were we assaulted by agents of her's looking for it? I think it's safe to say that wherever the relic is, Salem does not have it. At least not yet. And we are looking for Jaune Arc." Ozpin tapped his cane on the floor. "These are confusing times. I admit that they are dire, but we have not yet lost. Now, do you have any other questions for me?"

I shook my head.

"Very good. The plan is to keep the relics and maidens out of her hands until humanity is ready. That is my plan to win. We are not directionless. We move with purpose. And when Cinder Fall strikes again we will be ready to defeat her. As you have several times. All is not lost. Remember that."

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

I found my teammates and I shared with them what I learned from Ozpin.

"Salem is… immortal?" Blake asked.

I nodded. I didn't know what to think.

"Then… it's hopeless," Yang murmured.

"Not per se," Weiss countered. "Ozpin's immortal too. And his plans get foiled all the time. Just look at Haven and Beacon."

"So what? She's foilable but unbeatable?" Yang asked.

"He said more. He said he was going to ask two of you to become the new spring and fall maidens," I told them.

"Jaune was right," Weiss breathed. "But not you? Ruby?"

"He said that because of my eyes that would be putting too many eggs in one basket. Those were his exact words," I replied. "He said he would ask me if the rest of you said no. He also brought up Penny as an option."

"And… what did you tell him, Ruby?" Blake asked.

"I told him I would do it, if he couldn't find another candidate."

"Ruby…" Blake growled.

"What? Fighting Salem is the right thing to do."

"You're hardly well, still getting over Jaune. You need to think this through," Weiss said.

Coming from her the words bit deep. She had the right to say that more than any of my other teammates. I looked away and wanted to pull my hood up. I sniffled once but I wasn't going to cry. I wasn't.

"But if she's immortal and she has the relic of knowledge doesn't that make us screwed?" Yang asked.

"That's what I said. He said we shouldn't be so sure that Salem knows where the relic is because of the girls that attacked us."

"Jaune's sisters. Maybe," Weiss said. "It's a good point. No one knows where Jaune is."

"Don't you two start that again." Yang looked between Weiss and I.

"Please," Blake agreed with Yang. "Jaune betrayed us. Just like Adam betrayed me. The sooner you accept that, the better off you'll be."

"It doesn't make any sense. By all accounts." Weiss's nostrils flared at my sister. "It's not our fault that things don't add up."

"Let's not devolve into Jaune-talk again." Yang held up both hands. "Which one of us is becoming a maiden."

"I'll do it," Weiss said. "The magic may be easiest to disguise as my semblance. At least more than the rest of you. Especially if my sister becomes the winter maiden. Both living huntress Schnees would have the same or similar powers."

"And Penny will take the other half?" Yang asked.

"Is that okay?" I wondered.

"It's probably what she was built for, all things considered," Blake said.

"Ozpin only groomed us but Ironwood had her made for this purpose," Weiss agreed. "It's probably why her project got greenlit. The maidens."

"Kinda scary when you put it like that." Yang worried her lip. "Being born for it."

"I'll talk to her about it," I said. "I'll make sure she's okay with it."

"Wait but Cinder has both spring and fall. Won't they transfer to the same person?" Blake asked.

"That's what I went to talk to him about. He said he was going to split the power with his magic. He wasn't really specific on the details," I informed them.

"That's magic for you," Yang reclined, putting both hands behind her head as she rested back on her bedding. "It's obscure and makes no sense. Hey Weiss could you replicate the powers of a maiden with enough dust if you had it?"

"Probably. Maybe Professor Goodwitch could too. It would take quite a bit of dust, though, that's just going off of what we saw Cinder do with her air magic. We're also not sure what all she's doing with dust or with her semblance. We don't even know what her power really is."

"Good enough. I suppose that it makes sense for you to take it then. It'll just look like your semblance but with dust," Yang returned.

"I keep forgetting that Cinder has a semblance on top of being two maidens," Blake said. "How are we going to stop her?"

"We could keep using Ruby's eyes. That seems to be working," Yang muttered.

"How does the power with your eyes even work, Ruby?" Blake asked.

"I'm not really sure. It seems to be all instinctual. What I've done with it," I reached up like I was going to touch my eyes and my hands hesitated near my brow.

"Like what you did to the dragon?" Weiss asked.

"Just like that. I don't really know how I'm doing it."

"But it worked at Haven. It drove Cinder back when I thought she was going to burn us all to a crisp," Yang said. "Emerald had to carry her out of there."

"Speaking of, Emerald's semblance is also very dangerous. The illusions." Blake waved a hand in front of her eyes. "She could get any one of us."

"And we don't know what Mercury can do either. Yang you fought him at the tournament. Was there anything that felt like his semblance," I asked.

"Not really. He was just good."

"Who fought him at Haven?" Blake asked.

"Jaune," Weiss and I said together.

"Ugh," Blake managed.

"And me, for a bit again," Yang said.

"At least Tyrian is dead," Weiss muttered out of the corner of her mouth. She leaned her head on her palm.

"At the cost of a new, more dangerous Roman Torchwick. Cloud Strife sounds like an actual fighter," Blake murmured. "And Neapolitan is out there with him right now. That's how he's staying at large."

"Who else is there? Hazel and those girls who attacked us in Argus?" I asked.

"I think that's it." Yang said. "I mean, aside from, you know, Jaune."

Blake threw her pillow at Yang’s head. "You brought him up this time."

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

"Not that I'm bored," I sounded exasperated even to my own ears, "but why can't we just use an airship to take these supplies out to Amity."

“The components for Amity’s construction are far too heavy. All that weight would require precious dust we should be saving for the launch itself. And the Grimm that will come after,” Penny said with her usual enthusiasm.

“It just makes for a long, very long supply run.”

“At least the tundra is scenic.”

“Totally.”

I started to doze off. The truck was rumbling along just right for it. A dull melody that was putting me right to sleep.

“Ruby!” I startled awake at Penny’s voice. “I just wanted to say how excited I am to be working with you in a professional capacity. As friends!” She giggled a little.

It was a touch infectious and I laughed too. “Me too, Penny.”

“Relationships are so interesting. And varied.”

“Speaking of friends. Have you been able to make any new ones? Since, you know…” I trailed off.

“Now that I’m the official protector of Mantle I don’t really have a team any more. General Ironwood says I don’t have time for friends.”

“Oh uh… how do you feel about that?”

“I feel like I wish I could do both the things I need to do, and the things I want to do. Is that normal?”

I laughed a little. “That’s about as normal as it gets Penny."

We were quiet for a while.

"Ruby…" she trailed at the same time I said "Penny."

"You first," she said.

"Uh, okay. I talked to Ozpin the other day. We talked about making you one of the maidens. My team and I discussed how you were probably built with that in mind. I just wanted to make sure it was okay with you, though."

"I understand your worry, Ruby. But I am more than up for the task. Either spring or fall, I don't really mind."

"Well, okay if you're sure. What was it you were going to ask about?"

"I was going to ask how you were with your relationships, Ruby. You asked after mine after all. It seems like something a friend would do."

"Well what did you mean?" With Penny it was hard to be sure.

"Well you have had a boyfriend now. What was that like?"

"It was uh good." I wasn't quite sure what she was looking for.

"I've never had a boyfriend of my own. I've never talked to the General about it, either. Or my father."

"I wasn't very good at talking to my family about it either. Romantic stuff that is. It took me forever to tell Yang and by the time I did… well I didn't so much as tell her so much as she caught us."

"Caught you?"

"We were just kissing." I sounded a touch defensive. "I mean, it was going places if I had my say in it but we were just kissing when she walked in on us. She found out that way."

"Going places? Had you and Jaune been places before then?" If not for the emphasis I wasn't sure Penny would have understood what I meant. Instead she seemed to hunch down a little and her eyes were bright and curious.

"A handful of times." I confessed to her. Looking away from her eyes. I smiled a little. Crimson riding on my cheeks.

It felt good to talk about it though. Girl to girl.

"Ruby! That was scandalous of you. What happened next?" What was scandalous was Penny's attempt to dig for information.

I laughed. It was a touch funny in retrospect. Plus her blatant attempt to live vicariously through me was endearing. "Yang pulled him off of me and slammed him into a wall."

"So… he was on top of you, then." Penny gasped. Putting both hands over her mouth. "And your sister just ripped you apart."

I nodded. "I'd been trying to wrap my legs around him but...And Jaune just sort of stood there looking dazed. It wasn't because of being slammed into the wall. He's fairly robust. He was just sort of out of it because we'd been kissing. I might be a good kisser. You could, like, see it." I laughed.

"Ruby!" She gasped again. "Do you mean… his…?"

I nodded, laughing a little more. "Through the hem of his pants."

"Was he… was he large?" Penny phrased awkwardly, blushing whisper.

"I think so. Not so much until he was inside. If that makes any kind of sense. Then it seemed like he was huge but in a good way. A really awesome feel good kind of way."

"Ruby!" She gasped a third time. She was smiling and blushing. Her father had really gone all in on making her blush anatomically correct.

I laughed some more.

"Is everything alright up there?" My uncle called from the back.

"We're fine!" We said at the same time through giggling voices and thick blushes.

"Penny are you… are you built, down there?" I asked in a whisper.

"I'm designed to one day have children. If I so choose. With the right upgrades as pregnancy goes on. My father thought it was important."

"He told you?"

"Oh yes. He gave me the talk. He thought it was important that I have the freedom of expression that having children is. The eggs are from donors which were engineered. And I don't quite have a monthly cycle. But other than that things are roughly the same."

"You don't have a cycle? Brag about it, you queen."

"Ruby!" She giggled again. I did too.

"How roughly the same are we talking about here?" I laughed.

"Ru -by !" She broke into hysterics. She wiped a tear from her eye. "The same enough."

We laughed for a long time in muted giggles as the truck rumbled along.

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

-WG

[imhereforbvcky]

Watch Me Run - Part 11

Masterlist  -  Series Masterpage  -  Part 10 -  Part 12

Summary: You inherit a family relic that gives you the gift of foresight but there are others who are interested for more nefarious reasons. You turn to the Avengers for help. (Bucky x reader) Chapter: You and Bucky settle into the safe house and set a plan B. Loki begins executing his next plans.

Warnings: probably swearing, angst of course

Word Count: 2124

A/N: Not gonna lie this one is a little slow. But they’re starting to trust each other, and care for each other a little more than just mission-mindedness.

“It’s uhm… cozy,” you nodded, looking around the tiny cabin.

The small wooden structure huddled quietly into the thick dark woods that surrounded it. Light was a resource out here, not a given, and the darkness that threatened to swallow you and Bucky both on the short walk from the rusted old pick-up truck to the creaking door of the cabin was felt very differently by each of you.

To Bucky it was safety, a blanket of natural protection that guarded you both from unwanted watchers and the danger still lurking in every corner. To you it was the danger, or at least the opportunity for it. Everywhere you couldn’t see was a place something deadly could hide. You hadn’t learned to use everything around you like Bucky had.

Sometimes, though, you could fool yourself out of fear with sarcasm.

“Very Grizzly Adams.”

Bucky grinned, shaking his head as he hauled his gear past you into a corner of the living space where a small wooden dining table stood, just big enough for two mismatched chairs.

“It’s functional,” he corrected.

“It can be both,” you shrugged. “Bit rustic, but the fireplace is nice, and all the cozy blankets. I bet it looks like a Thomas Kinkade painting after a good snow.”

“You don’t want to be here in the winter,” he chuckled.

The mere click, whoosh of unsnapping holsters and removal of his weapons was loud enough to fill the tiny space. The heavy clatter of the steel firearms and leather sheathed knives onto the wood tabletop was downright thunderous.

You didn’t argue, instead stepping further into the cabin, and slowly circling each area, taking it in. There was a large stone fireplace taking up one wall, surrounded by worn and sunken furniture. Behind the sofa stood the table where Bucky unloaded his modest personal armory. That “small” amount just about filled the room.

Behind Bucky stood minimal kitchen with an old porcelain sink, the kind that would run rusty water for a bit when you first turned the spout. A small wood-burning stove stood in the corner, dark and industrious. There was a refrigerator too, small with rounded edges, like it had been placed there in 1956 and left to rust. Orange streaks raced down from the metal handle, but it hummed loudly, proving its life. Maybe you’d been wrong about that old rusty truck being stolen. It seemed to fit right in.

On the opposite side of the cabin stood the sole bedroom, so tiny you wondered how any furniture had been moved into the tight space. No, surely the house had been built around the queen sized bed that reached within 2 feet of every wall. There was no other way.

“So where is ‘here’ anyway?” you asked, completing your spin.

“North.”

“Uh huh, uh huh. I gathered that when we got on the northbound freeway. But drove for hours. Can I get a little more than that?”

“It’s more than you need to know.” Bucky grumbled as he sunk down onto the undersized couch. Its tired springs and ancient frame groaned louder than he did.

“Really? I disagree.”

“You’re not going anywhere without me. So, yeah. It is.” He stretched out over the couch and crossed his arms over his chest, curling into as compact a shape as someone of his size could form on so diminutive a piece of furniture.

After the taxing beginning to this mission, the relief of his safe house sank through his entire body with tremendous weight. Need began to supersede want and civility. Starting a fire could wait. This conversation could wait. All he needed right now was sleep.

You had other ideas.

“Look, I just left everything that feels safe to me behind, all of it covered in blood.” Bucky slowly turned, reading every frantic expression as your voice rose in pitch and volume. “Every time I close my eyes a god from another world is destroying everyone and everything I touch. He is hunting me and I can’t run fast enough. I don’t know what these dark dreams mean but they are more than real and there is nothing I can do except sit in a truck and follow orders. So please!”

You blinked quickly, willing the fear and the grief you’d been swallowing for days back into the box that you kept far from the surface, far from where they were currently clawing up your throat and spilling at the edges of your eyes. Your gaze had remained on the floor as you spoke, but now it flickered to the calm grey of Bucky’s.

He only stared at you with an impassivity that was oddly comforting. Nothing could rattle him, nothing frightened him or chased him away. He was an immovable granite shelter in the icy storm that had begun to rage around you a week ago.

“Please, tell me something,” your voice had dropped to a whisper. “Anything so I can pretend that I still have a modicum of control over my own life.”

He nodded slowly. A quiet understanding and a silent agreement. Bucky understood control better than anybody. He perpetually worked to untangle the complex knot of both fearing and needing it.

“We’re in northern Canada. In a cabin on an unincorporated piece of land half an hour from a town you’ve never heard of.” His voice was even and low. This information was no more useful than what little you had before but it was something to think on at least. “Nobody’s heard of it. That’s the point. Nobody will find you here. You’re safe.”

You nodded quickly, shoving at tears with the heel of your hand.

“And in the impossible event someone does come, you remember what to do right?” He was sitting now, tired grey eyes soft but clear. He tugged on your wrists,demanding your focus, asking you to rehearse his instructions.

Another nod. “Yeah, um. The cellar door in the floor of the closet.”

“Mhmm.”

“There’s a key to the truck down there. Soon as it’s clear, I take it and run.”

“You get in that truck and you go. Anywhere but here.” He ducked a little to meet your eyes and found them little calmer, a little less frantic, but still wide and watery.

“What if I can’t?” you croaked. “Run, I mean. What happens to you when I leave you behind?”

“If it’s anyone but Loki: nothing happens. I’ll be fine; I’ll find you. And we’ll keep running. You and me,” he explained, smoothing his thumbs in light soothing sweeps over your skin. “But if it is him? You can’t wait to see what happens, you hear me? With that staff he’s got… I’m just as dangerous to you as I am useful. Best I can do is buy you time.”

You nodded, chewing your lip, apprehension in every bite. It made sense. It did. Loki was a well-trained combatant, with other-worldly strength and magic of which only legend told. It would take only one stumble, one missed shot, one tap of that sceptre, and Bucky your protector would become your hunter. The most prolific assassin in a century.

But the fact remained: you weren’t sure if you could. Leave Bucky to the hand of fate.

People like to think they’re logical, that they do things with thought and reason. But the truth i they are driven by instinct, by fear and learned responses, regardless of rationality. And you had learned as a very young child, curled up in the icy wreckage of a car waiting for rescue, watching the snow greedily seep the life from your family, that time is precious. People are precious. You don’t give up on them, and you don’t leave them to ruin in the cold.

He gave your arms another squeeze. “You’re not here to look after me. I’m protecting you. You’re my mission. Only time I’ve ever failed a mission was to save my best friend. Who was … also my mission.” He smirked slightly at the bittersweet memory. Just a hint of his lips ticking up at one corner. “I’ve got you, alright?”

Something between a chuckle and a sigh left you: relief. “Thanks.”

Carefully, you curled your hands to wrap around the underside of his forearms, holding onto him in return because in the end, whether either of you had chosen it, you were in this together now. He was all you had.

With a deep breath you let your fingers unfurl and felt his drift away, brushing over your skin. You missed it already, the comfort of his hold on you.

“I guess you weren’t kidding when you said ‘north,’ huh?” With arms wrapped tight around your stomach, fighting off a shiver, you glanced out the window.

“No,” he laughed, easing back onto the couch again.

“The Great White North.”

“It will be soon,” he promised.

“Hey, Bucky?”

“Hmm,” he hummed, eyes already drifting closed.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” A tired mumble spoken into the cushion.

“Who is looking out for you?”

He laughed at that. He didn’t mean to, but it burst out of him. The sort of laugh that comes only when the truth is too unpleasant to actually speak. And so instead, something cynical and dismissive had ripped forth instead.

“I’m serious,” you continued, your dangerously empathetic heart bleeding all over that lonely cabin, so obviously designed around stealth and escape and fear. “When’s the last time you got to be safe?”

A sigh would probably not suffice for an answer, he knew. “Wakanda. There was some time... I had a little place on the edge of the capital. Kept some goats, if you can believe it.” He chuckled at the memory. It seemed so far off now, so small in the timeline of his life, he almost questioned whether it was real.

“You weren’t there very long.”

“No,” he agreed. Not long enough. It never was. He’d become so tired of war, but it always found him. Drafted, then used mind and body alike, then drawn by guilt into whatever battles fell from the sky. This was his penance.

“Any other time?”

“I guess after SHIELD… HYDRA went down… that was running not fighting.”

“That doesn’t count,” you frowned, sitting on the floor beside the couch and curling your knees.”We’re running now and it’s anything but serene.”

“Then… Before the war, I guess.”

“The war…? As in, the World War?”

“Mhmm,” Bucky burrowed deeper into the couch. He was tired in so many ways. “Second one.”

“That’s… That’s like eighty years, Bucky!”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t you want to rest? Don’t you need a break?”

“You tryin’ to get rid of me?” You could hear the smile in his voice

“No.” You chuckled and he liked that. Liked the sound of complete relief, not a single trace of the fear from moments ago.

“No, you’re right. I’m retiring,” he teased. “Should we go to the beach?”

“Yeah!”

“’Kay, right after this nap.”

Hardly a moment later Bucky drifted off to the last sound he expected to hear on mission: a giggle.

Loki had chosen his target well. Waiting, always waiting outside the Avengers Tower, he studied the flash of badges, learned their roles until he found just the right one. She was a loner, awkward and frustrated. He’d followed just twice to make sure.

Once: in disguise, to a bar where she sat at the edge of a group of complaining software engineers. It must be hard, he thought to himself, always working in the shadow of someone like Tony Stark. They were full of complaints, and hers were often spoken over.

He considered that she might help him out of spite, but reconsidered. Best not. The risk was too great. Fear would ever be a far greater motivator than irritation. Spite could run out, anger could diminish, could be soothed. Fear… fear could be reapplied time and again.

The second time, the woman had gone straight home. No happy hour today, no grumbling except to her cat.

He waited in the darkness until the house went still, and then waited more.

She woke to a cold sharp metal piont at her chest, like the tip of an ice cube. Except it wasn’t. In her startled haze, and the pitch black of her room, all she could make out was the shimmering blue orb.

Next she noticed the silver blade stretching down to the center of her chest and her eyes snapped wide.

Dark hair and a sneering face were her last memories before her eyes clouded with the same blue as the orb. A lone command echoing in her head choked out the protests, even the scream already scratching at her throat.

Find all possible safe houses.

Chapter 12 >>

[rlford]

The Goblin and the Peppercorn

The Halfling Thief found the bag of peppercorns on the goblin’s body.

An argument ensued. The Fighter wanted to keep walking toward the ruins and fulfill their benefactor’s request. The ruins were full of treasure, he said. The party got to keep whatever they found as long as they killed the monsters and returned with the ruins secrets.

Peppercorns weren’t treasure. They were food.

But the Thief wanted to understand how this little bag of black spices ended up in the goblin’s pocket. Goblins don’t cook with peppercorns.

Black pepper makes the traditionally bland food of the region interesting and flavorful. When peppercorns appear in the market – rarely – people pay more gold for small bags than for major magic items. The poor crave them. The rich kill for them. Sure, this small bag of peppercorns is not a Cap of Underwater Breathing or a Potion of Heroism, but it can buy them. This bag is better than gold.

Can we indulge in Halfling curiosity? The ruins have been ruins for thousands of years. That’s why they’re called ruins. The secrets aren’t going anywhere.

When the Wizard and the Bard sided with the Thief, the Fighter caved. Fine. We will follow you on your so-called mystery. And then we will head to the ruins and discover some real secrets.

The goblin’s trail lead to the bandit’s massacred bodies not more than a day old and rotting in the open air. One bandit carried small, empty sacks smelling strongly of pepper and a letter of free passage on this road between the Lord of this land and the True and Free City Republic. From the look of the site, the goblins jumped the bandits while they were camping and cooking.  Of course, the goblins ate the well-seasoned and peppered steaks.

The party left the bandit’s bodies to rot while promising the Fighter that he could massacre any future peppercorn-stealing bandits. They took the letter.

Further along the road by another two days (and the Fighter made noise about ruins and secrets) the party discovered the overturned carts, dead horses, and bodies of the traders.  They were dressed in merchant’s red robes. The sacks were empty. The cargo stolen. But the Halfling Thief found a manifest of good and prices. Prices higher than the party could command for spelunking and murder expeditions.

Maybe the ruins could wait, the Fighter said.

The party buried the traders.

This land’s gold, the Halfling Thief said, was flowing east down this road to the Free City Republic. We, adventurers, root through ancient cellars and dig through old ruins, risking our lives and very souls, to haul out chest after chest of easy gold. We cheerfully hand that gold to rich merchant and wizard guilds in return for armor and baubles and magic. Lords wrest that gold from guilds by taxation. Then, those Lords send that gold down this road east in return for this.

Peppercorns.

Let’s follow the money, the Halfling Thief said. Let’s follow the peppercorns.

And we went east.

The Free-City Republic

The Free-City Republic stank. For all its glamour architecture and glorious history, humans demi-humans pressed together in the streets with little sanitation and less space. They climbed over each other for space on this tiny island nation. The temple entrances reeked of urine where supplicants voided themselves before climbing the steps. Merchants dumped their garbage into the streets.

The Transmuter Bankers, members of the mighty Exchanger’s Guild, ruled above the stench from their black towers and behind their long red masks. They were rarely seen but always felt. A Republic in name only, the immensely rich ruled this plutocracy with an iron fist in a velvet glove. They were more interested in their constant wars with the other Free City Republics ruled by other Transmuter Bankers than the daily government rhythms and wrapped themselves in bureaucracy.

Down on the streets, enormous customs houses squatted among the warehouses while armies of armed customs agents took their due. Long ships with short triangular sails bobbed in filthy waters while moored at a mile long dock. Thousands of merchants and porters unloaded their wares into a market of uncertain prices and taxation. Purchasing agents bartered loudly with street merchants for their Lord. Spices. Silks. Porcelain. Bails of cotton and linen. Ivory. Pearls. Cases upon cases of rare and precious magic reagents.

The Halfling Thief thrust her arms into a barrel of peppercorns, worth more than the land she was hired to serve, and drew in a deep breath. She asked how much.

“Only the Gods and Modrons know the prices of the day,” the peppercorn merchant told the Halfling Thief. “Today might be a good day. It might be a bad day. We don’t know until we sell.”

Pirates, horrible and wealthy, plied the profitable waters offshore. They preyed on lightly armed merchant ships and took their cut by force. Smugglers and a far flung powerful Thieves Guild made good use of sewers to avoid the customs house and the hated head tax. The Navy pushed out into waters to find more fertile trading grounds and pursue the Republic’s endless wars.

This was not the peppercorn’s source, the Halfling Thief said. This is the terminus. This is wonderful but merely the city where the merchants collect the land’s gold and send it further east. I want to find the source of the peppercorns. We should press onward.

But when she turned around, the Fighter was gone. He found his source of endless money, booty, magic items and glory far beyond mere run down ruins in a backwater country. He left to fight the pirates of this sea until he conquered them all and they acknowledged him as their King. He took the Ranger with him as backup. The Fighter wanted to make it a buddy movie.

Yet the Thief still had the Wizard, the Cleric and me, the bard.

And we went east.

The Old City

This old city at the desert’s edge was a relic of an ancient time. Once, it made its wealth by shipping grain north into great open markets of hungry cities. Now, by conquest, it shipped its grain south to less discerning and wealthy consumers. Its sand stone walls told stories of ancient battles and grand Kingdoms and the magnificent adventures of Murder Hobos long dead.

Centuries ago, this city ruled Empires. Centuries hence, its power forgotten, it would be shriveled, an open air theme park for tourists pretending to experience its grandeur and power. This city was fated fade, remembered for its art and music but not for its heroes and power. Its sewers infested with monsters and converted to adventuring dungeons. Its marvelous temples turned into adventuring ruins with dark secrets for rich rulers to plumb.

Thus was the power of trade. Far more powerful than any army, religion or ruler, trade builds empires binding together humans and demi-humans under one banner. And trade lays them to waste.

The old city was still a vibrant trading force. Its power had not completely leaked out its walls. The great camel caravans came in through the east gate. The merchants unloaded and made transactions with rapacious middle men. Dockworkers loaded precious cargo by the ton on the long ships and sent them west to the Free Cities to feed their endless wars. The tax men with their thugs roamed among the merchants taking their due for an Emperor thousands of miles away.

The open air markets were full of peppercorns. They were cheaper here than the dead merchant’s lists back home and cheaper still than the Free Cities. The Halfling Thief watched the peppercorns come in through the gate by camel and be delivered by the half ton to the merchant’s stall. Gold exchanged hands.

Gold still flowed east.

Comprehend Languages and Tongues helps with travel negotiations between cultures. Without the Fighter and Ranger, we were vulnerable to bandits but if we traveled down the river instead of overland and with other caravans we could make it east to the peppercorn source. Overland trade, we learned, was phenomenally dangerous. Outside, in the desert, banditry was tribal. If we flew the wrong colors, we would be forced to give bribes at best and attacked at worst.

The Halfling Thief ensured the caravans that our Wizard and Cleric would keep us safe.

The Thief turned to the Cleric but the Cleric was gone. Taken by the mash of cultures and nations passing through this trade city, she was determined to proselytize. What better place to create converts than a trade nexus between Empires? Even if she converted a handful, her God’s Word would spread far to new corners of the world. Her God would grow. What is better than a big, fat, well-loved God?

Yet the Thief still had the Wizard and me, the Bard.

And we went east.

The Ocean Market

The great oceanic trading city was made of magically bound sand. Enormous limestone and coral fortresses towered over a sprawling dock reaching across the horizon. Houses five stories high stood over packed market-filled streets.  Impossibly thin golden minarets topped bright white temples of a strange God. The mash of cultures, languages and beings, many never seen in the Halfling’s land far away across a sea and a desert, pressed together in the great bazaar beneath the Sultan’s uncompromising eye.

And the market! The sights! The smells! Uncut rhinoceros and elephant horn of pure ivory. Bizarre animal skins. Gold stacked in bars. Huge towers of wax for candles and supplies. Enormous bushels of grains. Plates and bowls of purest white. Cloth so smooth it barely caressed the skin. Ambergris, pulled from the bellies of murdered whales, and fragrant incense. Brightly lacquered wood. Magic items with strange and new properties. Elaborately crafted magical weaponry and armor dyed bright colors and adorned with ostrich feathers. Endless shelves of rare magical reagents and jewels. Bizarre fruit. Slaves, driven to open air slave markets, by the thousands. Fragrant spices, including the peppercorn, heaped in enormous baskets in huge open air stalls. An unimaginable bounty from the nexus of trade.

Gold coins from a dozen unknown and distant lands passed through the Halfling Thief’s hands.

The Halfling Thief, with extensive help from Tongues and a bit of prodding with Detect Thoughts, asked about the origins of peppercorns. Did they come from this land? Is this the terminus of all our gold, our sweat, our tears, our hard work?

The merchants laughed. No, no, no. We bring great bushels of grain and these strange animals to the market. We supply incense and skins. We send wax and wood. But the peppercorns?  The peppercorns come from the far east across the ocean on the other side of the monsoon winds.  They come here on the bottoms of boats. See, the Westerner Agents will give us all their gold for the peppercorns we import at great cost.

How far?

Farther than the horizon, the merchants said. Farther than the sun and moon. But you can follow them, if you wish, on our boats held together with coconut twine and adorned with great lanteen sails. Board one of our great trading dhows and follow the rising sun. There, you will find the peppercorns where they grow wild and abundant on enormous vines. That is where your golden money flows, Halfling. Your source of infatuation, madness, and black gold lies over the sea.

A sailor on the open ocean has only one true companion: fear. Wizards help to keep the skies clear. Clerics of the storm and sea provide grace to the voyages. Past the shore pirates are not a threat but the sea itself kills. But even with prayers and spells, many voyages are lost with all hands. A trip across the sea was much more dangerous than a dungeon crawl through ancient ruins looking for lost secrets. But on the other side of the ocean, what secrets we will find!

The Halfling Thief turned to consult the Wizard about the voyage but the Wizard was gone. Seduced by the allure of new knowledge and new spells, the Wizard found his way into the city’s enormous libraries filled with thousands of books. Dazzled, the Wizard no longer had to crawl through filthy dungeons and dangerous ruins to learn new secrets. He had a lifetime of research here where spells came to him from all points of the world. He didn’t need to kill for this knowledge. He simply waited for it to be unloaded off ships from distant lands.

I asked the Halfling Thief if she was prepared for this journey. Our Fighter, Ranger, Cleric and Wizard were gone.  We were all that was left. The voyage was long and dangerous. Who knew what we would find on the other side?

The Halfling said, how can a Bard turn down stories and adventure?

And we went east.

[clankitsfanfiction]

New Year, New Beginnings, a Male SS x Hancock Oneshot

Summary: Whatever. Hancock was being himself, and Nate didn’t care. Back to New Year’s Eve.

“We can string up some lights around town, make some special food, maybe some mutfruit juice? New year, new beginnings.” Nate stared at the crowd of settlers. They stared back.

Or, in other words, Nate tries to get Sanctuary to celebrate New Year's Eve. Also, Hancock is there.

Chapter One

(read this on Archive of Our Own here)

Time isn’t an important aspect in Nate’s life anymore. The clock on his Pip-Boy is one of the few working ones he’s seen, and Nate’s pretty sure he hasn’t seen another working calendar. Nate hasn’t had to keep track of the date for any reason, as the people in this world can’t keep track. They just say ‘bring me the caps by tomorrow or I’ll kill your family’ and the likes. Still, it’s nice to know that the date is there in the corner. A relic of his old life.

That’s why it was a shock when he glanced at his Pip-Boy one day, lounging in Sanctuary to discover tomorrow New Year’s Eve. A smile lit up his face as he recalled spending New Year with Nora in celebration and delight. Things are different now, sure, and Nora might not be here, but the day still holds a special place in his heart. Maybe he can convince the settlers of Sanctuary to have a party tomorrow.

Sitting up from his chair with excitement, he set off.

Theoretically, it makes sense why none of the people know what he’s talking about. Nick is smiling at him, since he knows what Nate is talking about, but everyone else either looks amused or annoyed. Actually, Danse looked depressed (but he always looks depressed, now that he knows he’s a synth), Cait looks concerned (probably about being around alcohol), and Hancock looks confused. Huh. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. At least MacCready and Codsworth look excited (as much as a robot can look excited).

“Oh sir, it’s simply been ages since we’ve celebrated New Year’s Eve! I’m afraid we haven’t any champagne, though. Perhaps we can make a substitute?”

“I won’t be wantin’ any of that. What’s so important about startin’ a new year? It’s not like we keep track of dates, Nate.” Cait crossed her arms.

“New Year’s Eve was a pre-war holiday. Nate, I’m glad you wanna share an important part of your life with us, but I don’t think any of these folks will really get it.” Nick glanced at Shaun, who was playing with Dogmeat a little ways away. “And I think some might not be able to partake in any of the more traditional ways of celebrating.”

This was not going as planned. Nate hadn’t had a plan, but if he did have a plan, this wouldn’t have been it. “Come on, everyone! We don’t have to celebrate in any of the ways I mentioned,” he said with an assuring look at Cait.

“Hm, I don’t know. That kiss of midnight didn’t sound so bad.” Hancock waggled his eyebrows in Nate’s direction, and Nate rolled his eyes. Hancock flirted with everyone, but his most frequent target seemed to be Nate. It wasn’t that Nate disliked it—he did, in fact like it very much, but the knowledge that it wasn’t personal and just out of habit made Nate feel queasy inside. He wasn’t sure when his feelings for the mayor shifted from platonic to something more romantic, but for the time being he was ignoring them. Sure, Hancock might be up for some fun, but a relationship? Not his style. At least, Nate didn’t think it was. He hadn’t actually asked. Should he ask?

Whatever. Hancock was being himself, and Nate didn’t care. Back to New Year’s Eve.

“We can string up some lights around town, make some special food, maybe some mutfruit juice? New year, new beginnings.” Nate stared at the crowd of settlers. They stared back.

Finally, someone muttered, “we haven’t had any reasons to celebrate lately. This seems as good as any.” Sounds of general agreement spread throughout the crowd until it was clear the majority would comply with whatever Nate asked, as long as it wasn’t too crazy.

Nate clapped his hands and allowed himself a grin. Things had been better ever since they defeated the Institute, but this seemed like a good sign.

--

It was not a good sign. They’d managed to scrape up some colored lights for the occasion, but the food and drink vendors were refusing to give Nate discounts for tomorrow. Nate asked, asked again, and asked for a third time, but nothing worked! They were not feeling the spirit of New Year’s Eve. Nate ended up paying the full amount, because he could afford it, since he had taxes on basically every store in the town, but he did it grumpily.

He wasn’t going to try to push New Year’s Resolutions too hard. No had seemed too keen on the idea, and it wasn’t like anyone followed through on them anyway.

Nate tried to think back to what him and Nora would do on New Year’s Eve. They’d drink, sure, and sing, and laugh, and what, have fun? People rarely had fun in the Commonwealth. They always seemed so sad. Sometimes Nate wanted to gather everyone up and just hug them all until he had magically vanished their depression and PTSD away.

A hand touched his shoulder and Nate jerked his head up. He’d gotten much better with physical contact in the past couple months—for his first year out of the vault he tried not to let anyone touch him.

“Nate, you alright?” Hancock rumbled, and Nate felt himself leaning into his touch. “Don’t work yourself up now.

“I’m fine, Hancock. Just thinking about what I need to get for tomorrow.”

“You said that there needed to be lights, food, drink, and tinsel or something, right? I heard from Nick that you’ve gotten the first two taken care of. What is tinsel, anyway?”

Nate blinked. He’d forgotten he mentioned tinsel. “It’s, uh, this shiny plastic-ey thing. You might’ve seen it in dollar stores. It’s shiny. We don’t really need it.”

Sadly, the hand left his shoulder and clapped him on the back. “Sounds like you’re all set, then. Just gotta get the people into the spirit.” Hancock bumped Nate’s shoulder with his own. “Your people need something to celebrate.”

Nate frowned. “They’re not my people, Hancock. I’m not the mayor.”

The ghoul chuckled. “You’re the mayor all but in name, brother. That’s not the important part,” Hancock added before Nate could open his mouth. “The important part is that you care for the settlers of Sanctuary and they rely on and respect you. They trust you.”

“Cool, thanks,” Nate said, and his voice definitely did not crack at all. He cleared his throat, because he was thirsty, and not because he was tearing up. “I’m not sure how I’m going to get people into the spirit. Nora and I would always sing along to songs on the radio, but all of the songs on Diamond City Radio are about nuclear things and uranium. Or they’re depressing. I mean, not all the time, but half the time.”

Hancock hummed. “You gotta let people have their own experiences. If you’re really gonna try to bring this holiday into our world, you have to know it’s not gonna be the same. Never will be. We have some holidays, sure, around the solstices, but nothing like you’re trying to push. Keep it low key. Let people make their own traditions.”

“Wow, Hancock. When did you get so wise?”

He blinked. “I met you.”

The two said nothing, but Nate felt Hancock’s hand brush his own. They stood there, barely touching, until Shaun tripped and started bawling, ruining the moment.

--

The sleep Nate had the night before New Year’s Eve was uneasy and limited. Memories of the day’s events swirled in his mind and kept him awake. How would the celebration go? Did Hancock want a relationship? Was Shaun going to stop tripping over rocks?

After falling into a troubled sleep, Nate awoke to something long and wet touching his face and someone… giggling?

“Dogmeat is saying hello!” Shaun chirped.

“Mmm, that’s very nice, Shaun. Can you tell him to get off the bed?”

“Dogmeat, off!” Nate breathed a sigh of relief as Dogmeat’s tongue left his face. Thank god he’d managed to get the showers to supply warm water. It felt as if he was coated in grime.

“Looked like Dogmeat was enjoying himself there,” a voice mused, and the sigh turned into a groan as he realized Hancock had been watching. “You found him at the Red Rocket, right?” Finally opening his eyes, Nate glared at Hancock while Shaun obliviously petted Dogmeat. “Morning, sunshine. You sleep well?”

“Fine, thanks,” Nate said through gritted teeth. “Shaun, can you go make sure the cats were fed this morning?”

“Yes, papa!”

As soon as he had left the room, Nate leaned up on his elbows and scowled. “Don’t make dirty jokes in front of my son.

“Don’t have a son in front of my dirty jokes.”

“What?”

“Nah, you’re right. I won’t. Come on, let me give you hand.”

Nate took the offered hand and let Hancock pull him up. “What time is it?”

Hancock shrugged. “Somewhere around nine, probably. This house doesn’t have any clocks. Not much has happened. Couple traders came in, and people are getting excited about celebrating New Year’s Eve.”

“That’s good!” Yawning, Nate allowed himself to lean on Hancock, pretending he was just tired. “How do you feel about making me breakfast?”

“But how can I make you breakfast when you’re already Nate?”

“Ugh. Go soak your head. That wasn't even clever.”

--

Nate had considered giving everyone the day off but decided against it in the end. Despite the fact they would be celebrating later, they still needed to keep the plants watered and the shops open and the posts guarded. He did, however, give permission for people to be more lax and take their time—as long as they completed their goal in the end.

Some of the traders who had come in while Nate was sleeping had done so because they’d heard about the party. They were willing to sell things for a slight cheaper price—if they would be invited to the party. Nate had shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “Everyone’s welcome.”

During the day, more people showed up. Apparently the caravan workers who had left yesterday wasted no time spreading the word, and about ten people total showed up just for the new year—most groups nearby had moved into Sanctuary.  Nate hadn’t known that there was even people still not in town or he would have invited them to stay.

The entirety of the day passed with little fanfare. Most of the preparations had been finished yesterday; lights had been strung up around the town center, food was being prepared for later, people were making plans on what they would do at the party. “I’m going to bring board games!” Shaun said. “Then I’ll stay up late teaching people how to play them!”

“That sounds very nice, Shaun.” Nate had ruffled his hair before moving on to the hardest thing he wanted — no, needed for the party.

Fireworks.

Nate had yet to meet anyone who had seen fireworks. People knew the concept of them, and maybe had seen some pictures, but images didn’t do them justice. This met, by extension, no one had any fucking idea how to make them . Nate’s handy, sure, but he can’t make fucking fireworks.

He spent most of the day working with Sturges and an old fireworks manual he’d managed to buy off a trader. Currently, the plan was to see if they could modify a flare to be a different color and go from there. Since Nate knew absolutely nothing about fireworks, he spend most of the day pretending to be working with Sturges but actually talking with Hancock.

“So, what are actually fireworks?” Hancock asked at some point.

“They’re these sort of colored flares that go really high up in the air. They explode into different shapes. Some of them make a sort of fizzing sound, but they all make a really loud sound like a gunshot. If we actually make any—”

“We?”

“If Sturges actually makes any they’ll have to be set up pretty far away. They’re dangerous to be too close to. I’ll probably set them up at Red Rocket. Since they’re so loud, I’m giving everyone earplugs to start with.” Nate didn’t have that many earplugs, but he figured pieces of cotton would do the trick. “Generally, they go off at night around twelve, when the new year begins. In old TV shows—” Nate had already had a long, long, long discussion in which he explained the concept and inner workings of television to Hancock—“people would always share a kiss with fireworks in the background.”

Hancock simply hummed at that.

Nate never found out what type of fireworks Sturges made, as Shaun had tripped again, apparently over the same rock.

Eventually, it was time for the party to start. People started to crowd the town center—which just so happened to be right outside Nate’s house, where the majority of the party was supposed to take place—and Nate invited them inside. His house wasn’t really ‘his house.’ It was constantly filled with other people, sleeping and talking and eating. For some reason, people chose today to start being shy and wait for him to show up. People weren’t exactly sure what to do at first—many of them had never been to a party of such magnitude, or to a party at all. Ultimately, people relaxed as the atmosphere became more upbeat and happy. Nate played the classic role of the host, constantly talking with people who seemed a little awkward and making sure everyone was having a good time. He glimpsed Hancock chatting with Nick, but didn’t have time to do anything more than wave. Hancock didn’t see him.

Danse had agreed, somewhat joylessly, to supervise Shaun’s ‘Game Room.’ Nate had set up a room for the kids of Sanctuary to hang in (if they chose) and, much to Shaun’s delight, play boardgames. So far, it seemed to be going swimmingly. Shaun was talking mainly to Nat, Piper’s younger sister, who had come for a visit—as well as to write a report on ‘The Vault-Dweller's Sanctuary.’ Nate saw Danse with a glimpse of a smile on his face as he watched them converse. Huh. Did Danse want kids? Nate had never thought about Danse having kids. Maybe he should ask him sometime.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and Nate turned to see a settler. “Sturges said to tell you the fireworks are ready. As soon as you set off the smoke signal he’ll set them off.” Nate thanked her and glanced at his Pip-Boy. Eleven forty-five. He might as well get everyone outside.

So, he went from room to room, along with stepping outside, to announce that the fireworks would soon be appearing in the direction of Red Rocket. He gave a brief description of what fireworks were before inviting everyone to the few houses in Sanctuary that had a second story built on the outside of the house, reminding them to grab earplugs outside so they’d be prepared for the noise.

At 11:55, Nate walked to a small structure built on the outskirts of town, hastily completed that day. He’d prepared a small fire to be lit that night, so that when Sturges saw the smoke he’d set the fireworks off. Figuring Sturges would need some time, he lit it at 11:56 and prepared to wait.

For some reason, he wasn’t that surprised when Hancock showed up.

“Hey, Mayor Hancock of Goodneighbor. Care to join me?” He patted the ground next to him.

“Sure. Y’know, I would think you’d be up on a roof to watch your hard work.” Hancock sat down beside him, their knees touching.

He shrugged. “It’s nice out here. You can still hear the noise of the town, but it’s kinda quiet.”

Hancock didn’t say anything in response. He just gazed at Nate, who soon looked away from the intense focus of those black eyes on his. “The, uh, fireworks should be starting soon.”

Nothing. Huh. Maybe he should look back? Nate’s not sure. This is kinda awkward. Is it awkward, or does Nate just think it’s awkward? Agh, what would Nora do? He’s never been good with talking to his crushes. Nora was the one who asked him out. And it’s not like he has problems talking to Hancock. He spent most of the day talking to Hancock. It’s just… he’s spent most of his past New Year’s Eve Days with Nora.

“Nate.”

“Yes, Hancock?”

“I think the fireworks are starting.”

Nate turned to face the direction of the Red Rocket, but saw nothing. “Hancock, what are you—”

He felt his face being grasped softly by gentle hand, and instinctively moved to face the ghoul next to him. Black eyes bore into Nate’s own, and he felt a thumb lightly make circles on his cheek. “Is it alright if I kiss you?”

“Oh! Um, yes. I would like that very much please.”

As Nate definitely did not blush, but he did most certainly kiss Hancock, he distantly heard fireworks go off in the background. Hmm. What did this kiss mean for their relationship? Something new, for sure. But, you know. New year, new beginnings.                  

AN: This definitely isn't my best work, but my new year's resolution is to write. Not write more, write better, write differently. Just... write. Happy new year!

[pervasivescariness]

Bee Ohkabe

B A S I C S

Name : Bee Ohkabe Nicknames : none as of yet, though occasionally referred to as “Fumbles” in her less coordinated moments. Age : 25 Nameday :  32st Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon Species : Miqo’te, Keeper of the Moon Gender : Female Orientation : bi-curious, male preference (tho she’s not one to let gender stand in the way of her heart) Profession : Adventurer, self proclaimed expert in ancient shinies

P H Y S I C A L   A S P E C  T S

Hair : fiery red-orange Eyes : Green (right), Blue (left) - These are a shade apart so it’s hard to tell there’s any difference until you’re close Skin : pale and freckled Tattoos/scars : no tattoos as of yet, only various tiny scars, nothing too noticeable

F A M I L Y

Siblings :    A’nime - Adopted sister. Woman of few words, speaks with her fists mostly. Bee’s partner in crime growing up.    Ada - Quiet, reserved goldsmith. Probably the most normal of the Ohkabe sisters. In a constant state of ‘incredibly tired of your shit’. She moved out of the house as soon as she could in order to get some peace and quiet whilst she hones her craft.    Pari - Boisterous, bossy and set on being the best fishercatte. She acts like the head of the house, despite being barely 15. Will not hesitate to tell you that you’re doing something wrong and then proceed to show you exactly how to do it herself.    Meru - Incredibly shy, incredibly cute. As the youngest sister, she is often spoiled by family and friends. Self proclaimed “onionmancer”, she has a hobby of trying to create an army of sentient onions to do her biding. Has a habit of attaching herself to Bee’s friends when they’re over. Parents :    Osanara - Bright, eccentric woman. Former traveling entertainer/merc, currently part of the town council of the small fishing village Bee was raised in. She appears pleasant and jovial, loving to tease and joke with people, but please do not piss her off.    Bome’a - Stoic, level-headed fisher. Runs the family fishing business, is frequently out at sea, but when he’s home he’s a warm and caring father who spends his time with his family. Family : (none of her own yet!)   Pets : (none)

S K I L L S

Abilities :    Arcane Arts - Bee is an arcanist/summoner and as such, has a good grasp on both summoning carbuncles as well as a variety of poison/plague spells. She’s been studying summoning and practicing pulling more powerful forms of aether through her veins to summon more potent egis. Typically, she saves this for more dire situations, content with using a normal carby most of the time (as it’s less draining to her). She’s also got her eye on a more forbidden sort of arcane magic, though that’s mostly curiosity and study at the moment.    Light swords/daggers - Bee’s got some training in both light, one handed swords and daggers. Nothing to boast about, but she’s able to hold her own with a sword for a while. (She fully intends to learn more swordsmanship in the future once she’s found a proper teacher)    Dreadwyrm Trance - Used only in the most dire of situations (and even then, very rarely until she’s got a better mastery of it). This is a last resort sort of ability, as it is incredibly taxing on her body/mind and she’s not fully comfortable with channeling such great powers through her body quite yet.    Charm - you count this as an ability, correct? XD Bee can be very charming when she needs to be, and frequently uses this to both get into, and out of trouble.

Hobbies :    ADVENTURE! - Bee is up for anything that sounds exciting. Be it climbing into some old dusty ruins in search of some long lost relic, or exploring some far off new land full of mystery. If it sounds interesting/exciting to her, she’ll do it.    Relic/Artifact Collecting - Bee is very fond of shiny things. Especially old, possibly haunted shiny things. While the thrill of the search is more important to her than the actual acquisition of such things, she does enjoy keeping a small personal collection of strange things.    Stargazing - Not one to make a living out of reading the stars per se, she does find great pleasure in looking at them. She finds Astrology to be fascinating and as such is always willing to listen to more knowledgeable people speak about stars and pour through star charts.

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait : Optimistic Perseverance - Bee loves to find the light in any situation. She will try to push through even the worst things in life with the belief that things will get better. Worst Negative Trait : Reckless - Bee tends to get carried away sometimes and leaps before she looks on occasion. Leaving the careful planning for others, she’s more likely to just jump right into something, for better or for worse. This is why she’s constantly in trouble.

L I K E S

Colors : Black and Blues (Royal Blue especially) Smells : Ocean air, the scent of the air before/after a storm, sweet smelling fruity things, old dusty leather books, certain woodsy smells are nice too Textures : anything/everything soft. Bee likes to rub her face on soft things~ Drinks : most black teas, any coffee, hot chocolate

O T H E R  D E T A I L S

Smokes : Never Drinks : Most things she’ll try at least once. Rum is her go-to drink of choice most times. Drugs : Also never. Been Arrested: You’d have to get caught to get arrested >:3 Tagged by: the ever lovely @nightmaze who tagged me forever ago~ I am very bad at keeping up with these! Sorry! Tagging: @artlessmeat @fujiwarakazunari @fiddle021 @songbirds-and-bows @forthepursuitofknowledge  and like...you know, anyone else who wants to do this/hasn’t done it! Sorry if I tagged you and you did it already! Also sorry if I missed tagging you~ I’m incredibly bad at keeping up with these meme things ^-^;;

[bleedingcoffee42]

Do you have any headcanons on adventurer!Roy and colonel!Riza? I.e. How they met, how they got together, how he wooed her, their first time and things like that? Sorry if the last bit is nsfw... :3

Initially Riza was standoffish to him as she had her predetermined ideas about the famous Roy Mustang.   He was rich, cocky, spent his life flying around globe looking for alchemy artifacts and used his family’s influence to get what he wanted from the government.    She’d seen enough of these types in the military to last her a lifetime.   She was forced to work with him so she was determined to not help fuel his ego in any way and treat him like any other civilian.

However he had a charm about him that was hard to not enjoy.   She hated his lack of respect for the military, his lack of a real job, his use of family connections to land them in the ruins where they were currently stationed and worst of all she hated that she actually liked him.    She was good at reading people and she saw immediately that he was hiding something.   He played his part of wealthy playboy so well, but it was a diversion tactic.   Initially she told herself she would get to know him better just to get his guard down and allow her to see what he was really up to.   Sure her second in command Hughes could have done it, but she wanted to expose him herself.  Hughes encouraged her to expose more than that.   

She found a brilliant and capable man under that facade and marveled at his actual skill.   He just applied it to some ridiculous obsession of an obsolete science.  She went from trying to figure out what he was hiding to being upset that he wasn’t doing more with his life.   He in turn tried to figure out who she was hiding under the life she build for herself.     Somehow, she had found someone she could let down her guard with because he wasn’t competing with her and he shared his discoveries with her.   

Some of them.  

There were things that he would accidentally mis-cataloged from the dig that would end up back in the hands of the locals instead of in a crate in a museum somewhere.   He was looking for the philosopher’s stone so sometimes other relics were destroyed in the pursuit of them.   He was an alchemist first and archaeologist sometimes, possibly for the ‘occupation’ line on his taxes.  She couldn’t understand how he could be so myopic, but to him some things needed to be deconstructed and reconstructed into something more valuable.   He thought differently, he saw things differently and he slowly had her lower her defenses so she could see life though his eyes.   It was more colorful than her drab military existence and it was hard to not want to see it.   

Their first kiss came while he rooted around an ancient tomb with what she considered to be a heavy hand.  What she thought was ‘priceless historical significance’ he labelled as ‘ancient trash dump’ and before she could stop him, he blew it up.  She was furious as an entire hillside vanished and she just could hear her superiors berating her for being unable to control ‘one spoiled civilian’.   As they waited for the dust to clear she tried to not look at his cocky smile and hit him as he stared at her and waited for the unveiling.   Dust settled and an entrance was revealed.  A beautiful stone and jeweled entrance to a temple buried under the desert sands for ages.   She looked down at him and he gave her a smile, a smile that said “Told you I’d give you something to write home about” and she sat back down behind the rock and kissed him.   When she ended it, she gave him a smile and let it fade as she sternly said, “Don’t do that again.”

What came next was a week of playful remarks said barely above a whisper, but his voice was enough to make her blush a little.   “Did you mean let you kiss me or blow shit up?”  “You know it’s really not negative reinforcement if you kiss me when I’m being reprimanded.”  “I found this historically significant human sacrifice chamber, thinking about setting it on fire with fuel from my plane…would you like to stop me now or punish me later?”   “I love your harsh discipline.”

He respected her and left it to just a few flirty lines here and there.  Nobody in the camp thought it was more than him being his playboy self.   He let her make all the moves and at week’s end he got her alone to “survey the site”.   They went up one day at dusk in his plane to fly around and allow her to take pictures of it with Hughes’s camera to send back to HQ..  When they landed he asked if he could take a picture of her by his plane, for his own collection.  Called it the most valuable treasure he had found.   And she ended up pulling him back into the cargo bay of his plane and closing the door and spending the night with him.   

[ronaldmrashid]

The Fear Of Screwing Up Our Kids As FIRE Parents

Every other weekday, I walk by my 27-year-old neighbor playing catch in the middle of the street with his 20-something-year-old friend. He’s a nice guy with an intricate tattoo of a dragon on his right throwing arm. I saved his beat up Subaru Outback from getting a $120 street cleaning ticket one day, so he’s always super friendly.

Although Jake is a nice guy, it doesn’t seem like he has a job or any ambition beyond just having fun. When he’s not playing catch in the middle of the day, he’s off to Tahoe with his buddies for a week at a time. When he’s not snowboarding, he’s traveling for a softball match. It’s a great life. I just wonder whether his parents deprived him of his potential because he’s still living with them.

The truth is, I’m afraid my son will turn out to be like Jake or my other 26-yo neighbor who lives at home with his parents and wakes up the street every morning with the gurgle of his new motorbike. When I asked his mom what he’s doing now that he’s graduated from college, she shrugged and told me, “he’s still trying to find himself.” Fair enough. At least he’s got a sweet sports car and motorbike to take him wherever he wants to go.

https://www.financialsamurai.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/10/FIRE-Parents.m4a

A FIRE Parent’s Warped Reality

As two stay at home parents who live unconventional lives, we feel our financial independence may end up screwing up our son’s life. After all, being raised by middle class and lower middle class parents, and going the traditional route ultimately led us to FIRE in our 30s.

I now approach life not caring about following the rules anymore. Don’t want to go to college? No problem. Just take classes so you can be an expert in something. Want to try your hand at online entrepreneurship? Sounds good! Your old man can give you some good pointers. Don’t want to get married? Wonderful. Use the annual $10,000 in marriage penalty tax savings to go see the world.

For those of you who’ve built some multi-generational wealth, who have FIREd, or who work non-traditional jobs, let’s talk about what our lifestyles might do to our kids.

Educational Attainment

As a tennis coach for a private high school in SF, I’ve begun to learn about the intricacies of the private school system. You’re supposed to apply to a feeder pre-school before your child is born in order to get on the track to one day get him/her into the very high school I’m coaching at.

But before applying to my high school, you’ve first got to get your kid into one of the selective K-8 private schools after completing pre-school. The admissions process includes an evaluation of how your kid plays with others as well as an aptitude test. Talk about putting your kid through the gauntlet early on!

The thing with going to an elite private high school is that not every alumni gets into a prestigious university. In fact, only the top 10% of kids get into the most selective universities. Everybody else gets into a top ~50 school, which is great. But so do many kids who go to free public high schools.

As a public high school graduate who attended a public university and got a front office job at Goldman Sachs in NYC, I 100% believe in the value of a public school education – so much so that I have ZERO stress about trying to get my son on the private school track. If he doesn’t get in, he’ll go to public school, hooray!

But because I hang out with so many friends who do send their kids to private school, they give me stress about whether or not I’m doing the right thing being so lackadaisical. I think, Will not sending my kid to private school, even though I can afford it, deprive him of an opportunity to reach his full potential? This stress is part of the reason why I’m considering leaving San Francisco.

While at GS, we routinely rejected kids from Harvard, Princeton, Yale, Stanford, Columbia, Cornell, UPenn, Brown, and other great schools for various reasons. One consistent reason was that the rejects were all one dimensional, uncharismatic geeks who didn’t know how to communicate. Therefore, if you can’t get a good job, what’s the point of spending all that money, working so hard, and stressing all those years? The more prestigious your education, the higher the expectations.

I’d rather have my kid attend a lower tier school and surprise on the upside. Your mannerisms, communication skills, affability, work ethic, and connections are more important than where you went to college. You can work on all these things without ever attending a top ranked university.

Besides, in 18 years, how important will a traditional college degree really be if everything can be learned on the internet for free? There are speciality schools popping up everywhere now that teach kids hard skills. Over time college may eventually become a relic.

Career Choices

I firmly do not care if my son becomes a doctor, lawyer, banker, venture capitalist, private equity investor, strategy consultant or some other traditionally high paying occupation. I’ll be proud of him, whatever he does. I just want him to be happy and find someone who cares about him as much as I care for him and my wife.

As someone who worked in finance for 13 years and has written about money for more than eight years, I clearly see how money and prestige does not automatically lead to happiness. I’ve written about this topic over and over again with examples such as:

Scraping By On $500,000 A Year: Why It’s So Hard To Escape The Rat Race

Do You Want To Be Rich Or Do You Want To Be Free

The Unhealthy Desire For Prestige Is Ruining Your Life

The only professions I feel are incredibly honorable are those that help other people. Being a doctor or a teacher are two occupations that come to mind. Working at a non-profit that helps foster children is another.

I can’t believe how much education doctors have to go through to be who they are. To be able to heal and provide solace are wonderful skills that cannot be over-appreciated.

Given there’s nothing more precious than our children, I believe teachers aren’t given enough credit for what they do. A good teacher can make all the difference in the world.

Mom and dad have already sacrificed themselves for money. Thus, after graduation we’d like to have our son focus on service to others.

A Sense Of Achievement

There’s nothing better than working hard and then achieving your goals. We want to instill in our son a work ethic that allows him to appreciate the correlation between effort and reward. To give him everything would be an absolute travesty, because we never fully appreciate what we don’t earn.

I fear we won’t push our son hard enough to achieve his maximum potential. Instead of spending at least three hours a night on homework like his mother and I did in high school, let’s just have fun since he’s going to forget everything anyway! If we were struggling, surely we’d like for him to go to a great school and get a high-paying job so he can not only take care of himself and his future family but also provide us some financial relief as well. But we don’t have such anxiety.

We’re going to try our best to raise a grounded kid who appreciates the value of a dollar. But I know it’s going to be a challenge because our son will wonder why his parents are the only parents who never have to go to work. He’ll wonder why his old man is at every soccer match, every orchestra recital, every play, and every debate. He’ll see that all I do is type on a keyboard for several hours a day and that’s it!

I remember clearly as a 23-year-old wanting to make as much money as possible so my mother could retire earlier. She was often stressed at work and even consulted me on whether she should retire before the age of 60. I told her to not waste one more second at a job she disliked. Her pain motivated me to aggressively save in order to let her be free sooner. When she retired before 60, it was one of my proudest moments.

Is It Time To Stealth Wealth Our Kids?

Deep down I find solace knowing that no matter what, our son will be fine because we’ll always be there for him. But I wonder whether it’s a good idea to Stealth Wealth our son before he understands what wealth means.

One of my friends lives in a $18 million mansion and flies private with his kids. How the heck are his kids going to be happy with anything less than the best once they get jobs? Will they be willing to live in a dumpy room in an overpriced SF apartment because they only make $50,000 a year? Hard to imagine.

We already live in a middle class neighborhood in a very humble home that’s less than 2,000 sqft. All we’d really have to do is get rid of the SUV before he’s seven years old and drive a Honda Accord instead. Mom doesn’t wear jewelry, and I just wear jeans and sports clothes.

We want our kids to have it better than us. And I’m sure our kids want to see if they can one up their parents. But if you retired in your 30s and live a life of leisure, that’s going to be damn hard to beat.

Related:

No Wonder Why Millennials Don’t Give A Damn About Money

A Massive Generational Wealth Transfer Is Why Everything Will Be OK

How To Get Your Parents To Pay For Everything Even After You Become An Adult

Confessions Of A Spoiled Rich Kid

Readers, anybody fear screwing up their kids’ lives due to the lifestyle you lead today? How do we instill in our children an appreciation for hard work if they come from a financially well off family? What are some of the action steps you’ve taken to ensure your kids don’t grow up to be deadbeat losers?

The post The Fear Of Screwing Up Our Kids As FIRE Parents appeared first on Financial Samurai.

from https://www.financialsamurai.com/the-fear-of-screwing-up-our-childs-life-as-financially-independent-parents/

[trailcatjim-blog]

Lost-Glacier Loop: Lost Creek Ridge to White Pass with Glacier Peak Carry-Over

August 4-9, 2013

Black Mountain (7242') Glacier Peak (10,541') Kololo Peak (8210') White Mountain (7030')

For the past decade, I had a notion to do a large backpacking and climbing loop out Lost Creek Ridge, down to the White Chuck River, back up the north ridge of Glacier Peak, down the south ridge, and out via White Pass.  The execution of this loop---with all the sidetrips thrown in---turned out to be every bit as scenic and much more difficult than I anticipated.  It was completed only with much help from a great team composed of Kevin K, Steve, Deb, Eileen (all locals), Beth B (a former local visiting from Utah), Tim and Cassie (both visiting from Montana).  In the end, we concluded that this was a physically and mentally taxing alpine adventure with the potential to become a Cascadian classic.

DAY 1:  After dropping a car at the North Fork Sauk River Trailhead (near Sloan Creek Campground), we donned heavy packs and started grinding up the Bingley Gap Trail.  Numerous switchbacks led past the gap (2.7 hours from TH) and up the crest of Lost Creek Ridge.  Mosquitoes and black flies were prevalent and annoying every time we stopped for a break, but not too bad while we were moving.  Eventually, the old trail, which is unmaintained but easy to follow, eased up and began contouring the southern side of the ridge.  There are lots of ups and downs as it climbs over rocky ribs and drops into grassy gullies, with little net elevation gain.  Farther along, the trail swings back and forth across the crest, giving marvelous views in both directions.  Sloan Peak, Black Mountain, Mt. Pugh, and White Chuck Mountain are showcased at various locations.  Thunderheads gradually built up during the afternoon, resulting in an hour of large hailstones and raindrops around mid-afternoon.  We trudged into a heathery campsite overlooking Hardtack Lake (8.6 hours from TH) just as the rain stopped.  By bedtime, the storm clouds had completely dissipated, and we had only sunny skies for the remainder of the week.

DAY 2:  Most of our morning was spent moving camp 1.5 miles eastward from Hardtack Lake to the crest of Camp Creek Ridge (1.2 hours from Camp 1), which separates Camp Lake and Lake Byrne.  T&C refer to the ridge-top basin as "Little Siberia," but the surrounding uplands are as non-Siberian as can be;  our campsite consisted of a gorgeous parkland that would be better described as "Little Elysium."  We set up tents, arranged daypacks, and then struck off for Black Mountain, which sits about 2.5 miles south of Lake Byrne.  Black Mountain is an under-appreciated peak with considerable topographic projection and a handsome structure.  Our route from camp took us on a convoluted traverse over a high saddle, across several basins, gullies, and ribs, and finally up a northwest-facing snow couloir.  We summited in late afternoon (5.3 hours from Camp 2) and took in a front-row view of Glacier Peak---along with our upcoming challenges for the next several days.  And guess what?  The summit register indicated that Stefan Feller's party had just summited Black Mountain the day before!  We retraced our long traverse route back to camp (3.7 hours from summit), arriving shortly before dark.

DAY 3:  We reluctantly packed up and left our Elysian campsite, knowing that the day would involve a big elevation drop to the White Chuck River, followed by an equally big gain back up Kennedy Ridge.  We stopped at beautiful Lake Byrne---one of Washington's renowned alpine gems---before plunging 2300 feet down switchbacks to the river.  Despite a lack of maintenance since the 2003 flood that wiped out Kennedy Hot Springs, this trail remains in pretty good shape;  expect to encounter a normal number of downed trees, but the tread is well defined.  We arrived at the broad White Chuck River floodplain just before noon (2.9 hours from Camp 2) and easily followed ducks, cairns, and footsteps to a crossing location approximately 50 yards upstream from the White Chuck River -- Kennedy Creek confluence.  There are actually two or three stout logs spanning the channel here, so we each selected a log according to individual taste.  During our lunch break, Kevin went off exploring and found the relic hot springs seeping through the flood deposit.  We also spotted the ruins of the ranger's cabin.  For those of us who had visited Kennedy Hot Springs in its heyday, it was eerie to see the little remains of structures, signs, and trails amid this swath of natural devastation.  

After lunch, we crossed Kennedy Creek on a nearby log and then wandered downstream in search of the old White Chuck River Trail.  This was quickly found along the forest edge and followed several hundred yards to its junction with the Kennedy Ridge Trail.  We turned eastward on the latter trail and began a shady ascent of Kennedy Ridge.  The trail along this ridge, which eventually narrows down to a crest less than 10 feet wide, is a backpacker's delight and still in excellent condition.  After 1.7 miles, we turned left (north) on the Pacific Crest Trail and continued for another 2.3 miles to Glacier Creek.  Trail traffic increased considerably on the PCT;  we met 10 or 12 through-hikers heading for Stehekin.  Our route, however, left the PCT and followed a climber's path up Glacier Creek and along the Kennedy Glacier moraine.  Where the path petered out, we scrabbled down the southern face of the moraine and traversed up to a 6100-foot bench (9.1 hours from Camp 2) overlooking Kennedy Creek.  This bench served as a functional campsite amid a remarkable landscape of "textbook" glacial erosion and deposition.  

DAY 4:  We awoke to another morning of calm, warm, clear weather, anticipating a day that would be our topographic and mental climax for the trip.  From camp, we climbed snow and rock about 500 feet up to the snout of the Kennedy Glacier, then ascended low-angle neve to reach the lower icefall.   Kevin led one pitch through the jumbled icefall, placing several ice screws and pickets for protection.  We continued onward another 1000 feet to the upper icefall and managed to circumvent this via a series of ice bridges on the left side.  By hugging the left margin, we had a crevasse-free snow climb to the Kennedy-Ermine saddle (4.7 hours from Camp 3).  Our route got even more interesting beyond this saddle.  We climbed steep snow and ice (sometimes on frontpoints) up Frostbite Ridge, working past a series of steps and benches, using a combination of flukes, pickets, and screws for protection where needed.  A key feature of this ridge route is climbing through the "Rabbit Ears" and scrambling 150 feet of loose Class 2-3 rock down the other side.  The scramble ends at a steep snowslope that forms the northern rim of the summit crater.  We climbed to the rim and then descended 100 feet into the crater.  The technical crux of our day was climbing back up the very steep southern rim of the crater, which consisted of partially cemented ice marbles.  I have never seen anything like it!  Kevin led this 100-foot penultimate pitch, carefully kicking steps into the raveling surface and struggling to find anything solid enough to hold ice screws.  The final pitch was equally steep but thankfully soft, and we all gathered on the summit at 7:00pm (11.2 hours from Camp 3) after a long, strenuous day.

It is well understood that Glacier Peak represents the matriarch of the Cascades, due to its central location and dominant elevation.  However, this role was never so apparent to me as on this superbly clear, warm, and calm evening, with low-angle sunshine highlighting every peak within a 50-mile radius.  Even after dozens of collective volcano summits in our group, none of us could recall having such benign weather and excellent visibility.  We absorbed as much summit magic as possible and then started descending the south ridge.  Kevin, Beth, Tim, and Cassie got a headstart dropping towards Disappointment Peak, going around the eastern side, and further down south-side snowslopes.  They managed to find suitable camping (with nearby water) at 7350-foot "Baekos Gap" sometime after nightfall.  Steve, Deb, Eileen, and I spent more time descending in the dark, such that we did not reach camp until 11:00pm (15.3 hours from Camp 3).  The Glacier Peak carry-over had been a long and demanding day for all.

DAY 5:  We slept late and did not get going until 10:30am.  Compared to yesterday, this promised to be a relatively easy day.  We wrapped around the eastern side of a snowfield to Glacier Gap, then crossed to the western side and traversed onto the White Chuck Glacier.  At an outcrop below the glacier snout, Deb and Eileen continued on toward Foam Basin while the rest of us dropped backpacks and headed up Kololo Peak.  This provided a pleasant afternoon excursion on snow and rock to the 8200-foot summit (4.7 hours from Camp 4).  Fay's summit register showed a couple ascents per year, including a recent climb by the inspirational duo of Roy McMurtrey and Don Duncan.  After returning to our backpacks, we continued traversing across the glacial ice shield and past numerous ablation tarns.  The vast post-glacial terrain located between Glacier Gap and the White-Kololo ridge covers nearly 2 square miles and could best be described as an "alpine moonscape."  It is truly amazing.  Perhaps equally amazing is the sudden contrast when crossing over Foam Pass on the White-Kololo ridgeline and suddenly seeing the sweeping green hillslopes surrounding the White River headwaters.  We descended into verdant Foam Basin and set up camp on a heather bench (7.9 hours from Camp 4).  In a pre-arranged meeting, we were greeted by Fay, who had just returned from an ascent of rarely climbed Baekos Peak.  Several hours later, a foursome of tired and disoriented Glacier Peak climbers passed through our camp, demanding to know where to find the "Foam Basin Trail."  We pointed them in the direction of White Pass but had doubts as to whether they could navigate through the darkness.

DAY 6:  We had a leisurely breakfast before breaking camp and continuing on the westward leg of our horseshoe-shaped loop.  We contoured green slopes for 1/2 mile and then found the old sheepherder's trail heading to White Pass.  After a brief snack break at the pass, Tim, Cassie, Kevin, Eileen, and I strolled up nearby White Mountain for a final view of our week-long route, whereas Fay, Beth, Steve, and Deb were content to beeline for the trailhead.  Hours later, Eileen and I reached to trailhead (9.2 hours from Camp 5) feeling sore and tired but happy and satisfied to have completed this incredible backcounty loop.

APPROX. STATS:  45 miles traveled;  22,000 feet gained;  21,800 feet lost (including all side trips).

Thunderheads building over Sloan Peak

Black Mountain from Lost Creek Ridge Trail

Post storm clouds over Camp Creek ridge

Glacier Peak from Camp 1 at Hardtack Lake

Cassie and Eileen climbing the Black Mountain couloir

Camp 2 on Camp Creek ridge

Calm morning at Lake Byrne

Crossing the White Chuck river on Day 3

Hiking up the Kennedy moraine to Camp 3

Climbing the Kennedy Glacier ice falls

Front pointing up Frostbite ridge

Scrambling through the Rabbit Ears on Frostbite Ridge

Buck Mountain and Clark Mountain with the Chocolate Glacier

Climbing above the Rabbit Ears on Frostbite ridge

Descending the south ridge from Glacier Peak summit

Camp at Baekos Gap

White Chuck Glacier moonscape

Kevin, Beth, Steve, Cassie, and Tim on Kololo Peak

Descending to Camp 5 in Foam Basin

Lost Glacier Loop Topo Map