#DAMN IT. WHATS THE POINT OF ALL THESE ELECTIVE SLOTS IF NO ELECTIVES ACTUALLY FIT IN THEM BECAUSE YOU'RE MAKING ME TAKE TWO LONGASS LABS

[shawol9196]

Off-Air (Oneshot; Jongho; ~2.2k)

When Jinki drives Jonghyun home from the radio station meeting, he learns a little more about his off-air life than he’s expecting. 

“So why do you dislike that Choi guy so much?” one of the other DJs asks as Jinki sits down next to Jonghyun. 

It’s weird for them to all be here together: a huge gathering of DJs and radio staff all gathered into a tiny bar. But Jinki’s excited for a night out without having to be on interacting-with-consumers behavior, so he figures he’ll let it unfold as it will. 

Jonghyun takes a sip of whatever soju concoction he’d ordered before looking over. 

“Well first off he’s my number one competitor for my time slot.”

“You know you don’t own the hours of 12-2am, right?” Jinki teases.

Jonghyun glares and Jinki isn’t sure if it’s at the comment or the interruption. “Second, it’s annoying to have listeners calling in to talk about another DJ while you’re DJing, if you didn’t know. His music is too broad in genre. Like I get it’s a show of soundtracks but I’m not and never will be emotionally ready to switch from “My Heart Will Go On” right into “Footloose.” Also he’s too damn tall.”

Jinki nearly spits out his drink at the last item in the list. The other DJ had wandered off halfway through the spiel, but now Jinki’s interest was piqued. 

“Too tall?”

“He’s 6’2” and that’s too tall.”

“And that matters...?”

“Jinki I know you’re my boss and you know I cherish you in that way and also in a friendly way but you’re too tall to understand my feelings about people who are too tall. Your complete averageness in terms of height prevents you from understanding the full plight I speak of.”

“First off I’m the show producer not your boss. Second of all I’m only two inches taller than you, tops. I thought you had to be under 5’4” to complain about height. Third, how do you know his exact height?” 

Jonghyun ignores his comments in favor of finishing his drink. As silence falls between them, Jinki finds himself reminiscing of the now locally famous Choi-Kim radio rivalry. 

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this purple dusk radio?”

“Yes it is. I’m DJ Jonghyun and you’re lucky caller number 4!”

“Oh my goodness!”

“What’s your name?”

“Miyoung.”

“I’ve got the prize package right here for you, Miyoung, all ready to go, I just need you to do one thing for me alright? Just tell me one thing you enjoy about purple dusk radio.”

“Well, to be honest, normally I listen to silver screen on channel 99...but I just happened to tune in to this station for the first time tonight and it really fits in with my music taste.”

“So what I’m hearing is purple dusk has a better selection than silver screen does?”

“It fits better with my likes, yes.”

“Well congratulations, Miyoung, you won! Just promise me you’ll stay tuned in to the better midnight show, okay?”

Jinki listens as the girl on the phone starts squealing in excitement and Jonghyun signs off for the commercial break. Once the “ON AIR” sign is deluminated, Jinki laughs at Jonghyun’s little victory wiggle. 

“Did you hear that, Jinki? We saved another poor soul from having to listen to silver screen!”

Jinki jumps at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder. It’s Kim Kibum, producer for silver screen. The rivalry between DJs didn’t extend to them -- mostly due to graduating from the same college program. 

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.”

“You looked pretty far away there for a second, I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“No, not at all. I was just remembering an old show.”

Kibum slides into the seat that previously held Jonghyun. 

“Any particular show? I mean you’ve only been on this show for six years now.” 

“A particular one but for no particular reason.”

The conversation is interrupted by the bartender appearing. Jinki waits for Kibum to order, turning around to glance around the restaurant for Jonghyun. He finds him at another table with a few other DJs from their station. 

“Minho’s got a significant other but he won’t tell me about them.” Kibum huffs once he gets his beer. 

“If he won’t tell you about them how do you know he has one?”

“I overheard him on the phone and ‘I love you, honeybun’ doesn’t seem like something you’d say to everyone, now does it? Also he has a new ring, one of those ones that leaves an impression of a heart when you take it off.”

“Kibum, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; you make a great producer but you would’ve been a great detective.”

Kibum laughs before sipping his beer. 

“So how are things at PYQK, besides the fact that Minho won’t share all the naughty details of his love life with you?”

“I never said I wanted the naughty details; even some sweet vagues would be nice. The station’s doing well. And at PYXQ?”

“Basically the same. Why doesn’t Minho ever come to these, besides the fact that Jonghyun’s here?”

Kibum scoffs as he puts down his beer. “He goes to work out after the show finishes like some kind of weirdo.”

“To each his own, I guess.” Jinki goes to take a sip of his drink, but pauses. “Weird question that I’ll explain the context of afterwards, but how tall is he?”

“Who? Minho? Bit over 6’ I’d say. Why?”

“Someone was asking Jonghyun why he doesn’t like Minho and one of the reasons was he’s too tall, but he said a very specific height, which I thought was a bit odd.”

“I think Jonghyun may be trying to get in on that sort of experience,” Kibum says with a giggle, pointing to where Jonghyun’s begun standing on a barstool and thanking people for coming to the party that he absolutely did not partake in planning. 

“Oh jeez...I’ll see you later, dude.”

Jinki makes his way over to Jonghyun quick as he can; persuading him to come down off the stool isn’t easy but eventually he manages. 

“I just wanted to make sure that everyone could see me!” Jonghyun explains with a hiccup as Jinki pulls him out towards the parking lot. 

“Where are we going?” Jonghyun slurs, clutching Jinki’s arm to help steady himself.

“I’m going to drop you off at your house since you’re in no condition to drive.”

“How do you know that?” 

Jinki gives him a stern look and continues guiding Jonghyun to his car. It takes Jonghyun a few minutes to remember his address to punch into the GPS but soon enough they’re on their way. 

It surprises Jinki to realize he’s never been to Jonghyun’s house. The latter had visited him many times for holiday parties and garden dinners but not once in the four years they’ve worked together on purple dusk had he ever gone to -- or been invited to -- Jonghyun’s place. The house isn’t that big, but it has a pretty little garden in front and there’s something charming about it that seems perfectly Jonghyun. As they walk up the driveway, Jonghyun seems to perk up and Jinki is somewhat relieved to see a light through the living room window. 

“My house!”

“Well I’m glad you recognize it.”

Just as quickly as it appeared, the perky feeling dissipates and Jonghyun stops in his tracks. 

“I don’t have people over at my house.”

“I just want to make sure you can get in, I’ll leave right after okay?”

“I...don’t want...can’t let people know about him.”

“About who?”

“Him.”

“Come on, I just want to make sure you can get in.”

Begrudgingly he starts walking again, searching his pockets for his keys. Eventually he finds them but after four attempts to unlock the door it's clear he’s too drunk for such a delicate operation. Just as Jinki goes to offer to try, the door opens. 

If Jonghyun revealed himself to be an alien at this very moment, it wouldn’t surprise him more than seeing Choi Minho standing in Jonghyun’s doorway. 

“Oh, hello, Jinki. I...wasn’t expecting anyone to be with him.”

“I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here either, least of all you.”

It takes Jonghyun a moment to process that the door is open but once he does he immediately wraps himself around Minho, seemingly forgetting about Jinki’s existence.

“Baby I had fun at the party and I missed you.”

Minho’s cheeks turn pink as Jinki’s jaw drops to the floor. 

“Do you...why don’t you come in for a bit so we can talk?”

“I...if that’s fine with Jjong I’d like that.”

It takes a few minutes of fussing and denied kisses for Minho to send Jonghyun off to shower. He joins Jinki in the living room after a moment, sitting opposite him. 

“Don’t the two of you hate each other?” Jinki asks before Minho has a chance to say anything. 

An odd smile crosses Minho’s face. “Only publicly. We’re very affectionate at home, as you can see.”

“How long have...”

“Have we been together?”

“I was going to say be friendly but yeah that’s also included in the question I guess.”

“We met in college, partnered for a project in a journalism elective.”

“Really. Did you get unpartnered for bad behavior or something?”

“No, actually-”

Minho’s interrupted by Jonghyun unceremoniously plopping on the couch with the highest amount of dramatic flair he can muster, still oblivious to Jinki’s continued presence. He’s snuggled up to Minho and asleep before he can even react. As confused as Jinki is, it’s a warming sight.

“As I was saying, we actually got along really well. Got bonus points on the project for being cooperative. We got into the habit of hanging out and things just...kinda went from there. We’ve been living here since I graduated. Sleepy here inherited it from his grandparents.”

“So wait...why the rivalry? Like we all legitimately thought that you two hate each other.”

Minho chuckles, but Jinki can’t tell if it's in amusement or in sadness. 

“It was his idea, oddly enough. I don’t know if you remember the predecessor to silver screen, but it was... to put it kinder than Kibum would, it was a mess. So when I got hired, it was made very clear that if I didn’t make it successful, I would get fired, Yunho -- the producer that pitched it -- would probably get fired, and the station would basically have to resort to playing ads and royalty free spa music during that slot. Jjong had already got purple dusk comfortable by that point so he was trying to give me pointers and things. It didn’t really help though; Kibum always said it wasn’t my hosting that was driving people away, it was the bad taste left from the old show. Obviously he couldn’t just give me a shoutout, being on different stations at the same time and all, so he came up with hyping the competition. I always thought that we should’ve included you guys on it, but he said it’d make it feel manufactured if you all knew and also tried to play it up.”

“Oh, so that’s why I’ve had to hear Kibum complain about not knowing about your love life for two years now.” Jinki teases. 

“Oh man, he’s got you hooked in on that too? I swear I can’t make a personal call at the station without at least 4 people scooting as close as they think they can get away with to eavesdrop.”

“If it makes you feel better, he was just as inquisitive about when I started dating my now-wife back in college.”

“I am not surprised in the least.”

An awkward silence falls between the two as Jonghyun starts to snore and Jinki struggles to process.

“It was hard to get used to the act, when we first started it. We’d both come home all apologetic -- ‘I know I said you sound grating but your tone was so nice today’ or ‘I’m sorry I was so mean today, but how can you not be mean when the theme of the show is noir films’, that kind of thing. Now it’s just a bit of a game. I always listen to the podcast recording when I go to the gym and come home telling him he’s recycled insults.”

Jinki chuckles and checks his phone. There’s a few messages from Kibum, asking him where he’s headed off to and if he took Jonghyun home. 

“I suppose you should probably be heading home now. I know we live the night life already but I’m sure your wife would appreciate you coming home before the sun.” Minho says as he tries to wiggle his way out of Jonghyun’s grasp. 

“You’re probably right. We don’t have the luxury of the same working hours like some people do.”

They walk to the door and Jinki half expects Jonghyun to wake up, but he doesn’t. 

“Thanks for bringing him home. While it is amusing that such a lightweight enjoys gatherings so much, I do worry about him getting home in one piece.”

“Oh it’s no trouble. Even if it was, this dramatic turn of events made it worth it. Good luck with your show tomorrow and surviving Sherlock Holmes- I mean Kibum’s investigations.”

Minho cracks a smile and nods a thank you, waiting til Jinki gets into his car to close the front door. Through the living room window he can see him carrying Jonghyun to bed. His phone pings again, Kibum continuing to be nosy. For a brief moment he thinks to share the news with Kibum but instead closes his phone and heads home. What Jonghyun and Minho do in their off-air time really isn’t any of his concern; plus, he’d grown fond of Kibum’s investigations being thwarted. 

[monstersdownthepath]

Spiritual Spotlight: Charon the Boatman

(and featuring the arm of Dispater, in the upper right!)

Neutral Evil Horseman of Death

Domains: Death, Evil, Knowledge, Water Subdomains: Daemon, Ice, Memory, Undead

The Complete Book of the Damned, pg. 36~37

Obedience: Meditate upon your infirmities and the slow, inevitable progression of physical and mental decay inherent to the ravages of time. Mimic this progression by immersing yourself or a victim in icy water until nearly unconscious, or by consuming alcohol or drugs that dull memory and mental faculties. Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus on saving throws against necromancy and negative energy effects.

I greatly prefer the shrouded figure in a nice hat from the Bestiary, but I’ll be damned if the crotchety, coin-covered old man from the cover of the Complete Book of the Damned hasn’t won me over a little. Too bad the illustration inside the book is so... eugh.

Anyway, it’s odd to me that the most powerful of all the Horsemen has the simplest of all the Obediences. Simple doesn’t mean safe or easy, though. Icy water is difficult to come by without magic, especially not water cold enough to deal damage to you--note that it says you have to be rendered nearly unconscious by this submersion, implying nonlethal damage must be dealt by the freezing temperatures. A stickler DM may demand the water be at -0F or below, which deals nonlethal damage each minute, and may force you to bathe in it longer depending on how much HP you have, meaning this Obedience becomes more difficult as you level up.

Of course, that’s just a mechanical perspective. You can achieve the same result by meditating under the water until you nearly pass out from oxygen deprivation, in that case. A looser DM may also allow you to chill (badum-tish) in the water for an hour and consider it said and done... But beware, because you can’t just dunk yourself in ice-cold water over and over again without some longer-reaching side effects, such as frostbite or hypothermia. ... Both of which can be cured via magic, but y’know. It’s real hard to explain to any do-gooders in your party why you keep needing frostbite healed while in the middle of summer. It’s a very hard Obedience to keep a secret, is what I’m saying, especially since it requires a bathing vessel, a whole lot of water, and some method to chill it. The latter two can be done with magic, but the former is still pretty attention-grabbing.

Unless you cut out the danger to yourself and just use a Sack Of Rats and nearly drown one in freezing water every day, I mean. You save on water and on bathing vessels! It makes you look like a sociopath if you get caught, though. I mean, you are if you’re worshiping Charon, but it’s also real hard to explain why you’re dunking rats in ice water.

The potential alternative is no less deleterious to your character, either. Drugs which dull memory and mental faculties tend to do so by dealing Intelligence or Wisdom damage, and dealing damage to your own ability scores is never something you want to do just in case the DM has a monster in the wings that’s ready to do it for you. There’s also the danger of addiction, which itself can be cured by Cure Disease... but if you can’t cast it yourself, then there’s the whole “explaining things to your party” thing again. While carrying around drugs is a lot more subtle than hauling around a bathtub, it’s also more expensive and is likely to raise more questions and garner more attention if you’re caught in the act, ESPECIALLY if you’re in a majorly Good- or Neutral-aligned civilization at the moment. Not to mention it’s harder to maintain; what are you gonna do, stock up on a hundred days’ worth of Hazy Brain Juice in one city? And don’t forget that it’s ability score damage. Taking those kinds of drugs day after day is going to render you invalid quickly unless you have a method of repairing the damage.

And if you don’t, party shaking disapproving head etc etc you know the drill.

And, no, getting sloshed first thing in the morning isn’t any better, even if you can cure it right away. Being the Funny Drunken Party Guy is good fun once in a while, but not every single day at the crack of dawn. It DOES make it easier to disguise your true nature, though, because Cayden Cailean exists. You’d just have to put up with looking like a really, really terrible follower of good ol’ CC who misunderstood their own god.

Hoo man. That was a lot of writing! Anyway, the benefit is great. Necromancers and death Clerics are a very common enemy type, so it’s good to have the extra protection against them! .... Unless you’re in an Evil campaign, in which case you’re unlikely to run into as many negative energy effects or necromancers. That puts a pretty big dampener on its usefulness.

Boons usually come at levels 12, 16, and 20 if you merely take the Fiendish Obedience feat, but having levels in the Evangelist, Exalted, or Sentinel prestige classes allow you to unlock the respective bonuses much faster. The trio of prestige classes can be entered as early as level 7; taken as early as possible, you unlock the Boons at levels 10, 13, and 16 instead.

Daemon worshipers may elect to class into the Souldrinker prestige class instead of the Evangelist, Exalted, or Sentinel class, and may choose any of the three Boon lists they wish to have.

———-

EVANGELIST

———-

Boon 1: Death’s Blessing. Gain Memory Lapse 3/day, Catatonia 2/day, or Create Soul Gem 1/day

I’ve discussed the general usefulness of Memory Lapse previously in Tex Mex Ian’s article, so check that out under Evangelist!

Catatonia is a spell whose usefulness is SO cripplingly limited that the situations in which it’s useful are basically nil. For those who don’t know what the spell does--and I don’t blame you--it’s a touch spell that knocks the target into a deathlike state for 1hr/level. Their body is treated like a corpse in all respects until the spell ends or is ended by an outside effect. Can you think of a practical use for this spell that couldn’t be replicated by a different spell? I bet! What if I told you it offered no saving throw? That’d be AMAZING!

Except that it can only be used on a willing target.

Yeah.

I suppose you could use mind-control magic to make someone willingly accept the spell, but at that point you have someone mind controlled so there’s no real need to knock them out, unless you VERY SPECIFICALLY need to bring their corpse somewhere and have them regain consciousness to wreak havoc.

Create Soul Gem, however, is a... strange spell. Because it’s a spell-like, you don’t actually need the focus component (a crystal lens worth 500gp), but the spell itself transforms the crystal lens into a soul gem. I would discuss the exact way this manifests with your DM before it comes up, because in my opinion, you should be allowed to just use any old glass or crystal lens you have on you as the focus regardless of its worth. A player character will likely have little reason to actually create a soul gem unless they’re bargaining with fiends, or holding the soul of some unfortunate victim captive... But the spell wears off 1 day/level later, the gemstone crumbling and releasing the soul to the Boneyard for judgment. Some fiends likely won’t recognize the temporary soul gem, but most devils will, and a daemon definitely will.

Thankfully, though this ability may seem less than spectacular at first, it combos well with the next Boon...

Boon 2: Soul Crush. As a standard action, you can crush a soul gem (such as one you create via Create Soul Gem or one created by a Cacodaemon) to gain Fast Healing 15 for a number of rounds equal to your Hit Dice. This action condemns the crushed soul to Abaddon; resurrecting this victim requires a successful DC 28 caster level check.

... Oh boy does it combo well. Suddenly, Create Soul Gem reads as ‘once per day, fully heal your character over the course of a minute.’ Regenerating 15 damage every round you remain conscious is game-breakingly powerful, saving your party hundreds on spell slots, wand charges, and health potions as you gnaw on a delicious soul-filled rock rather than take up valuable resources. By the time you get this ability, it lets you restore over 190 HP to yourself per soul gem used, and that will rise as you level up.

This is one of the rare Evangelist Boons that can fit on any character archetype equally well. A frontline tank will adore the extra HP, and between their AC and Fast Healing, will likely outheal any damage the enemy can do. The midliners who can slip out of combat can dodge and roll as their entire HP bar grows back, and the backliners who get potshot by enemy attacks can bide their time in cover until they regain enough HP to peek out again.

The best part about this ability, though? The quality of the soul gem doesn’t matter, and there’s no daily limit on how many times you can use this power, only however many soul gems you have on your person. Stock up, and become the invincible soul-eater you always dreamed of being!

... Oh yeah, everyone you crush gets sent to Abaddon, too. That’s pretty neat! And also a horrible fate to inflict on someone! You bastard!

Boon 3: Death’s Clutches. You can use Soul Bind as a spell-like ability 1/day.

Hrm. Soul Bind is... A step up, I suppose, from Create Soul Gem. It’s basically Create Soul Gem, except the gemstone is permanent. That’s actually all there is to it; they even have the same range as one another.

Along with the same complication that results from the spell itself requiring a gemstone focus to bind the soul, but spell-like abilities typically ignore focus requirements. Whatever solution you and your DM came up with for Create Soul Gem will have to work with Soul Bind as well. Whatever the case may be, though, this ability might end up giving you a nice pocket filled to the brim with soul gems to fuel your immortality.

———-

EXALTED

———-

Boon 1: Death’s Grace. Gain Ray of Enfeeblement 3/day, Death Knell 2/day, or Sands of Time 1/day.

I’ve talked about Ray of Enfeeblement and Death Knell before, so the quick versions are:

RoE: Good spell to fall back on. Negated by a save, but 3/day makes it better.

DK: Decent. Extremely narrow use, but very good at what it does. A mediocre choice, but powerful if you can actually get the killing blow with it.

So. That leaves us with Sands of Time, a spell with no saving throw that instantly ages someone one age category up without granting them the age bonuses that usually come with an age-up. That is, at the very least, a -1 to Str, Con, and Dex which... Is not spectacular, really. But say someone is already middle aged? That means Sands of Time takes them to old age, and suddenly that’s a -3 to each of their physical ability scores. If you manage to swat an old enemy with it? They become venerable, and suddenly they’re buckling under the weight of a -6 penalty to Str/Con/Dex that lasts for 10 minutes per level.

Now, granted, Sands of Time loses a lot of its potency if you’re up against people in their 20s... or 120s, as ridiculous as it is, because the longer-lived races live really long and their age categories advance at a glacial pace. Unless the DM puts you up against exclusively human foes, it can be difficult to figure out how badly your Sands of TIme will affect someone; you may just end up giving them a meaningless -1 penalty which will get you killed instantly because I just saw that Sands of Time is a touch spell. Oops.

At the very least, you can also dump it on an object to accelerate its decay, dealing 3d6+1/lvl damage to it. It also works on Constructs and Undead in this way, dealing a decent chunk of damage with no save allowed. But, again, it’s a touch spell, and Exalted are fragile casters. That’s a pretty big damper on its usefulness.

Boon 2: Hunger of the Styx. 3/day upon successfully striking an enemy with a melee weapon, you may force them to make a Will save (DC 10 + 1/2 your Hit Dice + Cha mod) or be stunned for 1 round and staggered for 1d4+1 rounds. On a successful save, they are still staggered for 1 round. This is a mind-affecting effect.

Not entirely sure why the Exalted, the caster class, gets a melee ability. On the other hand, it’s a very handy Get Out Of Jail Free card, since it automatically staggers whoever it hits regardless of whether or not they make their save, preventing the attacked enemy from taking full-attack (or full retreat) actions. If they actually FAIL their save, the encounter is more or less decided right there. This ability is an amazing Save-or-Suck that’s unfortunately stapled onto--wait a second when did Clerics and Oracles get 3/4ths BAB?

Nevermind! This ability’s amazing!! Provided you somehow have enough accuracy to strike an important enemy’s full AC (unless you have some weird melee weapon that hits touch AC), something that gets less and less likely as enemy CR rises.

Boon 3: Grasp of the Styx. 1/day, you may cast Grasping Hand as a spell-like ability. This hand is made up of the bubbling, black water of the Styx. Any creature grappled by the hand must succeed on a Fortitude save (DC 17+Cha mod) or gain 1 negative level.

Couldn’t spring for Crushing Hand, eh Charon? I suppose the negative level makes it good enough, despite the unfortunately low save needed to negate it, and the fact that foes you’d actually want to grapple are likely immune to negative levels.

Then again, even if you get it as early as possible, it still has a +28 to grapple checks (+17 caster level, +10 Str modifier, +1 size modifier) that only rises as you level. Even without the negative level, being able to partially paralyze a single opponent from medium range (100ft + 10ft/lvl) for 1 round/level is amazing if they don’t have allies capable of breaking the spell. A tall order, to be certain, but grappling an enemy caster for even one round can make a fight much easier.

The biggest weakness of any grappler, though, is Freedom of Movement, which most classes get around level 10 (except Cleric, which gets it at level 7). Now, since it has somatic components it can’t be cast while grappled, but with a 10min/level duration, if an enemy with the spell in their repertoire knows you’re coming they’ll slap it on themselves the instant you breach their fortress. Even against enemies immune to being grappled, the spell still finds some use by interposing itself between you and a chosen enemy, granting you +4 AC versus more or less everything it tries. So I suppose, in that case, it’s never completely useless.

----------

SENTINEL

----------

Boon 1: Death’s Crusader. Gain Mount 3/day, Wartrain Mount 2/day, or Phantom Steed 1/day

Please direct your eyeballs and/or other visual sensory organs to Trelmarixian’s page, because every Horseman gives the same Sentinel spell-likes.

Boon 2: On A Pale Horse. As a swift action, you may call upon the phantasmal image of the Pale Horse of Death, which takes up a 10ft square adjacent to you. As a move action which requires concentration, you may direct the Pale Horse to move up to 120ft in any direction or path you desire. It is unaffected by difficult terrain and may move over surfaces that would otherwise not bear its weight (water, ice, snow, glass, etc). Any creature the Pale Horse passes through must make a Fortitude save (DC 10 + 1/2 hit dice + Cha mod) or be struck with a -6 penalty to Constitution, Strength, and Dexterity, as though they had been suddenly struck venerable. Creatures who normally gain power as they age, such as dragons, gain the penalties instead. A creature may only be affected by the Pale Horse’s power once per round, no matter how many times it passes through their space. This is an aging, curse effect. The Pale Horse vanishes at the end of the round

Lets get one very, very important detail out of the way, one I think has to be a misprint: There’s no limit to how often you can use this power, so long as you give up your swift and move actions to do it. Harsh for the martial Sentinel, not so much for the spell-slinging Souldrinker.

The fact that there’s no limit to the horses you can conjure means you can try, try again if your opponent saves against the first round. Though age penalties cannot take an ability score below 1, a -6 to all of their physical ability scores still means that, among other things: they do 3 less damage with their attacks and have a -3 penalty to all attack rolls, they have a -3 penalty to Fortitude and Reflex saves, they gain 3 less HP per hit dice, have 3 less AC. Plus, if any of their scores are brought down to 1, any amount of ability damage beyond that will likely kill them (or render them helpless, which is the same thing). 120ft of movement is a HUGE range, and provided all of your enemies are lined up in a nice little row for you, it means you can potentially hit up to 24 people with a single use of this power!

And by the by, the penalties are permanent until cured by magic.

The fact that it’s both a curse and an aging effect means that some enemies are immune to it, but the potential in the Pale Horse to instantly debuff a whole crowd of enemies at the same time outweighs that fact. And besides, you still have your standard action to take even after you send the steed into the fray!

Boon 3: Death’s Call. 1/day, you may cast Wail of the Banshee as a spell-like ability, except it lacks a sonic component. Creatures affected seem to crumble to dust.

With the snap of your fingers and a whisper into the air, you can will people around you to just die. Wail of the Banshee is a very, very powerful spell, capable of hitting a 40ft burst of people within close range (25ft + 5ft/lvl) and weaving its power between allies and people you want to spare, dealing a flat 10 damage per level to everyone affected. Because Death’s Call is not audible, it may look to all the world like a crowd opposing you simply crumbled to dust with nothing more than a glance. You don’t actually HAVE to perform any motions, but come on! Who wouldn’t gently sweep their hand over a group of hapless fools, each one your hand passes over turning to a burst of dust as their allies look on in horror?

Who wouldn’t want to be Thanos snapping his fingers and ending half an enemy’s group?

Of course, there is the small, annoying fact that it’s a 1/day ability completely negated by a successful Fortitude save (DC 19 + Cha mod). Unlike with Implosion, though, the damage is sent out all at once and is launched at a range. However, it’s also a death effect, meaning that most high-end enemies will be outright immune to it.

It’ll kill or severely injure everyone with them, though. Plus, there’s always the delightful thought of walking into a crowded street with this and clearing yourself a path through them. It’s what Charon would have wanted.

You can read more about him here.

[yourkeeperoftherunners]

You Sound so Good on Radio (RapMon AU)

Plot: AU You’re a DJ at your university’s student-run radio club and were called in to do a sample show last minute for a tour group of potential students. You caught his attention and he knew that he couldn’t go anywhere else. Especially if it meant he could share the airwaves with you at some point.

Rating: PG-13 (Language, implied cheating)

Characters: University Student!Kim Namjoon/Rap Monster x female Reader, University Student/Radio Club President!Kris (EXO-M), University Student/Fellow DJ!Johnny (NCT-127), and mentions of Seokjin and Yoongi (BTS)

Notes: This is an AU setting – all characters, background content, and storyline are fictional! This was an idea I’ve had kicking around in my head inspired by the writer’s personal experience of working in student-run radio shows at school. (It sat on the back burner until I realized it would be a good fit for music lover and brainy student Kim Namjoon.) Y/S/N stands for “your screen name”, Y/E/N is “your ex’s name”, and Y/DJ/N is “your DJ name.”

Happy Birthday Namjoon!

“Can I ask you to do a last minute show?”

“Uhhh maybe,” you drawled as you pressed your phone to your ear, “when?”

He sucked in a sharp breath and forced a smile as he revealed that he needed you to get over to the student radio booth in 40 minutes. Your eyes widened and you changed direction.

“Damn you Kris,” you hissed as you dug around in your bag, briefly checking that you had the essentials. “You’re lucky my next class was canceled – what’s this all about?”

“Potential students tour,” Kris explained. “Sorry Y/N – they threw this on me last minute too. Admissions wanted to show off the student radio program and they wanted a show playing live when the tour came through. I sort of panicked and didn’t know who to ask.”

“You owe me,” you warned him as you made a beeline for the studio, unlocking the door with your ID card. “Are there any rules Admissions set?”

“No profanity because it’s a daytime show, don’t run over into the next scheduled show’s slot…” Kris trailed off, biting his lip. “Um maybe pick some happy tunes or something? I don’t know – just make it seem cool to join radio, okay?”

“I’ll try. Wonder why they care all of sudden,” you droned as you pulled out your laptop and began pulling songs into a playlist.

“How do you take your coffee?” he asked.

“Make it the largest size available and you’re a godsend,” you said before hanging up. You plugged in the cords from the dashboard and began adding in bumpers that would play in between every 3 songs to promote the studio radio station. Complaints aside, radio was a welcome escape for you whenever you wanted a break from the stress of college. Anyone could apply to have a radio program, as long as they showed up for their time slot, followed the radio airwave rules, and attended the radio meetings that took place every other week.

“You’re listening to a special broadcast of Nocturnal Beats, coming to you live and in stereo from the radio station,” you announced into the microphone. “You just heard music from Halsey, a beautiful cover of Adele’s “Hello” by Alice Olivia, and “Skool Luv” by BTS. Speaking of school love, why not show your support for our talented lacrosse team at this Saturday’s game? Game starts at 7 PM, tickets are $7 at the gate…” You tore a glance at the bulletin board nearby to make sure you were covering all of the announcements posted during your talking break. From the corner of your left eye, you spotted a large group of families coming into the building, led by a student tour guide. Satisfied that you covered everything posted, you wrapped up your talking segment as you teased the next few songs coming up in the hour.

“Over here is the student radio booth – all of the programs broadcast are put on by students for students,” the guide said as she gestured to the booth. “Parents and friends are welcome to download the app or live stream it from your computer or WI-fi enabled devices to listen in as well. We have programs running 7 days a week from 7 AM to midnight, ranging from music, talk shows, and we’ve even had a few radio dramas played during the airwaves.”

You avoided the crowd’s gaze as you slotted in a bumper that announced that they were tuned into the student radio site, before blending it out to the next song – a mellow R&B tune from BIGBANG called “Blue”. You pulled the headphones off and switched the mic to off before checking the volume controls and scrolling through the radio instant chat function to answer messages.

js_giraffe: U cheating on me for daytime?

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you typed back to Johnny, AKA your friend who hosted a late night rant/talk show on Wednesdays. Occasionally you put in a guest appearance if he needed someone to banter with on the topics of choice for the shows – most people found your dynamic with him hilarious, especially if he tried to switch accents while you called him out for being a loser.

Y/S/N: ha try Kris needed someone to show off for the tour groups.

js_giraffe: O.o The model DJ…

js_giraffe: I’m not worthy! I’m not worthy!

Y/S/N: STFU

Y/S/N: It’s a one-time deal – get over your damn self!

“Now if you follow me, I’ll show you the mailroom,” the tour guide announced as she gestured to a hallway. Most of the families began to follow her to the next room while one young man lingered behind, tilting his head as he watched you switch between answering Johnny’s IMs and queuing more music for the remaining 15 minutes. He glanced over his shoulder at the group and quickly made up his mind to walk over to the glass separating you from him, tapping lightly on it.

You jerked your head up from looking at your laptop screen and held up a finger as you got up, making your way over to the entrance to the booth.

“Hi, may I help you?” you asked as you stuck your head out.

“Oh um ye-yeah!” the young man said. “How is the radio program here? Do you like it?” he asked with a faint accent.

“It’s a lot of fun,” you said slowly with a smile. “I really like it – this is my second year doing it. I started last spring and I’ve been doing it ever since. You can focus on any topic/style of show you want for the most part.” You frowned when you noticed the tour group was long gone.

“Oh I think you um-”

“I’ll find them – no worries,” he replied. He asked you more questions about the studio equipment, scheduling, requirements, etc. before you realized you were at the final 2 minutes of your program.

“Hang on, I need to close out the hour,” you apologized before running back into the station. You slipped the headphones on and turned the mic on, fading out the last song that was playing. “Looks like it’s last call gang – thanks for tuning into this special edition. I’ll catch you at my usual slot Friday night from 10-11 PM. Until then.” You turned off the mic and carefully unplugged your laptop, turning on instrumentals recorded in the station’s dashboard’s memory to fill the void while you packed up. Once you secured your bag on your shoulder, you headed to the door and frowned when you saw the young man was gone.

“So are you crossing this school off your list Joonie?” Yoongi asked his friend over the phone. “I mean, it’s kind of far and you don’t know a lot of English –“

“Actually I think I’m going to apply,” Namjoon replied with a grin as he leaned against the wall. “Campus is nice, professors seem decent, and I like their student life.”

“Wae?! But you can’t leave meeeeeeee!!!” the other male whined. “You’ll be too far away!”

“I think you can survive without me,” Namjoon chuckled as he ran a hand through his hair. “Besides, we can always call or Skype. Plus I’ll be home for the holidays.”

“But you have to apply first,” Seokjin interrupted, taking the phone from Yoongi. “There’s no guarantee this school will take you. Make sure you have back-ups in case.”

Namjoon snorted as he changed his phone to his other ear. He reassured Seokjin that he’d apply to a few local schools back home, just to be safe before hanging up and heading back to the area where the tour started. It was clear in his mind – he was getting in here no matter what.

“Welcome back,” Johnny greeted you as you took a seat in the auditorium beside him.

“Right back at you,” you replied, dropping your bag on the ground. “How was your summer?”

He shrugged and muttered that he split his time between Chicago and South Korea, thanks to his parents’ divorce. You listened as he described the tension during each stay, as both single parents had expressed their true feelings about one another to Johnny.

“Sorry Johnny,” you said with a sympathetic smile, “hey so, are you doing late night again?”

Johnny nodded and you confirmed that you were in again for another late night slot, as it was your favorite time to broadcast. You weren’t forced to be as strict with the profanity during timeslots closer to midnight and it was a fun way to get hyped for the weekend. Because this would be your third year of radio, you’d get first dibs on timeslots. A few days prior to the start of the new semester, you had gotten an e-mail from Kris asking if you wanted your old timeslot back, which you replied you did.

“All right guys! Can I have your attention please?” Kris called out, trying to regain control of the large group of students chattering away. He waited a few minutes before speaking again.

“Welcome to University Radio Club,” he began, “if you’re here because you’re taking radio as an elective or just because you want to, you’re in the right place. We meet every other week here at 9 PM – attendance is mandatory for those taking this as an elective. If you are brand new to radio, we’ll start taking sign ups for timeslots via e-mail. Please send us your top three choices and we’ll let you know if any are available. Past DJs will get first choice. Any questions so far?”

“The D-bag’s not doing radio anymore, right?” Johnny whispered as he leaned closer to you.

You shrugged, trying to seem indifferent. The “D-bag” in question was your ex, who cheated on you for two sorority chicks during a Greek life party. You swore he purposely chose the timeslot after you so he could saunter in and ruin your good mood with his presence, as his show was after yours for 3 semesters.

“I’ll deal with it like usual,” you muttered as you watched Kris start discussing the history of radio to the students taking this for credit.

“Welcome back to your place for top hits, fresh sounds, and jams to get you in the mood for your weekend – this is Nocturnal Beats!” you said into the mic with a smile. “Hope everyone stayed cool this summer. The bell may have rung but the fun’s never ending – I’ve got some new sounds to share from EXO and Twenty One Pilots so keep it here for this hour.”

Once you switched off the microphone, your phone buzzed with a text from Kris.

Galaxy

I’ll buy you a drink this weekend if you can do a last minute training for the rookie coming in after you.

Sent 10:07 PM

You

Fine.

Sent 10:08 PM

Hang on – rookie? Not Y/E/N?

Sent 10:08 PM

Galaxy

Nah he never answered my e-mail about radio this semester. This guy’s a first year – asked specifically for this slot.

Sent 10:09 PM

Tall, blonde hair in an undercut, name’s Namjoon Kim. He’s doing a rap show.

Sent 10:10 PM

You frowned as you re-read the texts and typed back a simple OK to Kris. Well, you could breathe easy – no asshole ex to deal with this semester. But you were surprised this kid got a prime spot – most first timers weren’t so lucky and would get an afternoon slot or an early morning time. Albeit his radio show content was probably better suited for nighttime versus editing out every curse word and innuendo possible. You’d meet him soon enough.

You shuttled a few IMs to Johnny and tore your gaze away from your laptop to see a tall Asian guy approaching the station, eerily fitting the description Kris texted you. He was busy typing something on his phone as he approached the radio station, walking into the door with a thud.

You blinked as you scrambled to your feet, eyes wide as he staggered back a few steps, wincing and cursing in Korean as he touched his forehead. Without wasting more time, you queued up a few more songs and a bumper before opening the door and checking on him.

“Hey you okay?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, yeah I’m fine,” he said as he pushed his dark framed glasses up on his nose. He shot you a sheepish smile and put his phone away in his pocket.

You studied him thoughtfully, examining his features. He looked awfully familiar…

“Hey so Y/N right? I don’t know you if you remember me, well I had dark hair last time we met, but um…” he trailed off, a shy smile on his face.

“Hang on, were you the guy who got left behind by the tour group to ask me questions about the radio station?” you recalled as you stepped out of the doorway. “Last semester in mid-March, right?”

He nodded as his smile spread across his face, resulting in the cutest dimples on his cheeks. You blinked as you silently compared the previous image you had of him in your mind to the guy standing before you now. He was cute then but with the blonde color and new haircut, he looked hot. It also sounded like his English had improved and the lingering trace of his accent was barely noticeable. Summer sure was kind to him…

“Wow I didn’t know you got in – congrats!” you replied as you nudged the door open wider, letting him into the station waiting room. “Welcome to university! I can’t believe you decided to take up radio too.”

Namjoon stepped through the doorway and watched as you closed the door to the station. “Well, it’s a funny story,” he began as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “A really chill DJ was doing a special show during my tour visit and she had a really hot voice. I was kind of a loser just staring at her and asking her dumb questions about radio, but she was so patient and really nice. So I felt encouraged to apply – I mean, I liked the classes and the professors too, but hearing this DJ was like the icing on the cake. I wanted to come here and do radio too. Maybe run into her again.”

You ducked your head and smiled, crossing your arms over your chest. “You found me Namjoon,” you replied.

He squared his shoulders and allowed a slightly cocky smile to cross his lips. “Rap Monster. No DJ, just Rap Monster around here.”

You contemplated his moniker and nodded in approval.

“It suits you,” you said. “Well you’ll go live for your first show in 10 minutes – think you’re ready?”

He removed his glasses from his nose and swapped them for a pair of dark wayfarers, pushing them up on his nose.

“Bring it on Y/DJ/N.”

[etraytin]

The Very Last Fic-A-Day Fic of the Day

IT’S FINALLY HERE! THE TIME LONG PROPHESIED IS UPON US! On September 27th, 2016, I posted the first in a series of short prompt-fics designed to give me a short break between Part I and Part II of Such A Winter’s Day, because the end of Part I had been so angsty. I had a great time writing them, and came up with the idea that maybe I could do one every day until the upcoming election, as a way to deal with my freefloating political anxiety in a constructive and pleasing way. Thus the 42-Day-Fic-a-Day-Til-The-Election was born. It was fun! I wrote a bunch of stories, did a bunch more chapters of SAWD, started up a couple new continuing stories, answered a lot of prompts. On November 9, I posted Doctor’s Orders, which was the first Very Last Fic of the Fic-A-Day, posted a cheerful message to my readers, and went to do phone banking. 

You guys all know what happened next. God knows I hate thinking about it. But on November 10, it occurred to me that if I stopped writing West Wing fic, I didn’t know when or how I would be able to start again. The idea of finding hope or meaning or even sense in politics seemed impossible. But in doing the Fic-a-Day, I’d remembered my love of writing, and redoubled my love of the fandom, and I wasn’t going to let that be taken away from me. So I wrote Still Here, posted it, and made a promise that I wasn’t going anywhere. The Fic-a-Day continued, this time with an open end date. 

I have loved every day of the Fic-a-Day, and if I had but worlds enough and time, I’d continue it indefinitely. But I am tired, and my muse is stressed, and there are stories I want to tell that I can’t write even a chapter of in a single day. Today, January 4, 2017, is Day 100, and that is a good day to stop. Counting the chapters of SAWD and the single other story I did before the Fic-a-Day, I have written 305,000 words in the fandom.  I’m not done writing, not by a long shot, so keep sending me your prompts and messaging me about the show. I love to talk with people! 

And now, without further ado, today’s fic is from a prompt by Yorkiemusketeer, who asked for a mid-post episode for Transition: the hours before Josh and Donna get on the plane, how he asks her, what the plane ride is like. Hope you enjoy!  .................

Josh understood what was happening as soon as they arrived in Washington DC, when Donna moved in with CJ instead of staying with him. People sometimes accused him of being an idiot when it came to women, of a level of blind incompetence that was frankly rather unflattering, but just because he made a lot of objectively terrible decisions during the course of his relationships with women didn't make him completely unable to decipher their thoughts and actions. Women were people, just like politicians were people, and it was his job to understand hidden motivations and unspoken words. When Donna refused to make herself readily available and instead said they needed a way to navigate their situation, it was pretty much the exact equivalent of scheduling lunches with him.

He'd be lying if he said the situation didn't unnerve him. They'd been in this boat once before, and she'd bailed, and it had overturned the whole damn thing. Matt Santos might not be president-elect today if Josh had kept even one of those eight broken lunch dates, so obviously they were pretty important. He knew that this time he couldn't weasel out again. That had been poorly done of him last time, and even if he still thought quitting without notice had been a severe overreaction, a little time and distance had given him perspective. Donna was a person who needed the people in her life to confirm her value. Ignoring her when she'd needed to talk about important things minimized that value, left her angry and hurt instead. He didn't want to do that again, he owed her better than that. If nothing else, not taking the time for her when he was sleeping with her really would make him no better than one of her old boyfriends, and he didn't think he could countenance being added to the Gomer List.

At the same time, though, getting together with her and actually talking was a lot easier said than done. Part of it was the sheer logistics of transition. There weren't enough hours in the day for sleeping or eating or grabbing regular enough showers, much less sitting down with one's... Donna and figuring out what exactly she was to him and vice versa. That had always been one of the good things about Donna, she'd always just been there and it had never been complicated, right up until that hadn't been enough anymore. Now she wanted things from him, and it made him feel like an asshole not just because he wasn't sure he could give them to her, but because it made him realize that if he couldn't give her this little bit, then what he'd been giving her before was basically nothing. But it was like Lou said, people like him didn't have lives, they had politics. They had legacies and memoirs and, he was increasingly certain, terminal cases of acid reflux, but lives were for the people who weren't out making things happen.

When Donna had come to his apartment and hadn't made him talk, that had been perfect. He knew exactly how to be with her when they were just being together. Some deep part of him resonated to the beat of her heart and the movements of her body, like she was the metronome that kept him in time. But actually saying that aloud would sound ridiculous or worse, and god's honest truth, he didn't know what else to say. Part of him was ready to put a ring on her finger right away with no thought at all; eight years of waiting was more than enough even if it hadn't all been roses. Part of him wanted her to join his staff so he could see her every day but have four or eight more years before he had to sort this out. Part of him wanted to just bury himself in her so deeply that he never had to come out and face the world again.

No part of him was ready for her to sit him down first thing in the morning when his brain was full of fog and Congressional talking points, look him in the eye with that oh-so-loving-and-serious face and tell him that if he wanted to keep her, he had to get the hell off the dime. Or words to that effect. He could tell she'd practiced the words; she had a particular way of storing up and reciting little speeches on things that were important to her, but it was still mostly babble to him. Four weeks, that part definitely stuck in his head. Four weeks to figure out what to do with Donna, when he'd spent nine years already wracking his brains about it. He was still staring at her dumbly when she gave him a really spectacular kiss and gone off to work before he could do more than babble out a goodbye.

Work that day was a disaster in progress, like every day of transition had been so far. CJ was warmer to him than she had been lately, and he could tell she was already looking to the end of the road. Getting her for the new administration would be quite a coup, despite the awkwardness of having a chief of staff and an ex-chief of staff, but he suspected that CJ wouldn't stay in Washington for love or money after January 20th. She was good at covering, but she was tired and she wanted out. Like the MS fight, but this time there was nobody to haul her back from the edge. Josh felt a little bad about that, but he had more than enough troubles of his own. He felt a little less bad later after her bitch-fit about Kazakhstan, no matter how justified she might have been in her tirade at the President-Elect. Nobody got to yell at Josh's guy that way but him.

Josh didn't get a chance to talk to Donna at all that day, but that did gave him a few seconds to think about what he was going to do with her. The deputy press secretary job was still open under Lou and whoever Lou put into the press secretary slot, almost certainly Edie Ortega. Josh wasn't sure what the job entailed, but it couldn't be that difficult; CJ had gone through like three of them and he had no idea what any of them even looked like. Deputy press secretary wasn't enough for Donna, wasn't close to what she was worth, but maybe with a lower-pressure job she could finally finish college and in a couple years Josh could let Sam go back to doing whatever Sam was doing in California and make her his actual deputy for real. That honestly didn't feel like enough either, but it was a plan, and a plan was good.

They met in the hallway between meetings, and it took her less than thirty seconds to completely destroy the plan. Not only had she been offered a much better job in the East Wing, chief of staff to Helen Santos, but she assured him that no matter what, she wasn't going to work for him anymore. Josh couldn't fault Helen Santos for noticing talent when she saw it, but the idea that Donna wasn't going to work for him, would barely be working near him, was vaguely panic-inducing. Josh knew she was looking for reassurance, waiting for him to say that of course they couldn't work together because they were going to be something else to each other now, but he wasn't anywhere near ready for that talk. Instead he told her that a month wasn't long enough, there was too much going on, what they had between them was too complicated, and he just wasn't going to be able to do it. He was having flashbacks to college, throwing himself on the mercy of a professor for just one little extension, just this once. But she was intractable. This was one lunch she wasn't going to reschedule for him.

Three weeks and six days to plan the rest of his life. Ten weeks to plan the future of the country. Twenty-four hours to figure out how to rein in the president-elect on foreign policy before CJ took Josh's head completely off, perhaps literally, perhaps to present on a platter to President Bartlet like some modern-day Salome. And maybe at some point he ougtht to sleep as well, but that was entirely negotiable until the actual hallucinations started. In any case, he was in a pretty bad mood by the time Otto had the tremendously bad fortune to try and update his Blackberry. Even as he was yelling, Josh knew he was going too far, knew Leo would've had him up by the scruff of the neck and be demanding what the hell he was doing, but somehow he couldn't seem to stop. The fact that Otto wouldn't stand up against him was just as infuriating as anything else; how could the kid expect to survive in a town like this if he wasn't made of iron from day one? This place was brutal and it would steal everything and leave you an empty husk, and if ittle-bitty Otto couldn't handle it then maybe he should get the hell out of town before January.

It was Sam who intervened in Leo's place, Sam who gave Josh the come-to-Jesus talk (so to speak), Sam who issued another, even harder-lined, ultimatum. It seemed to be Josh's week for ultimatums. It made him wonder if that's what it had really come to, that the people he was closest to were having to put it all on the line just in the hopes of reaching him. Was he really so far gone? He thought of his conversation with Lou, thought about his conversation with Donna in the hallway, and realized it was probably true. When Sam walked out, shutting the door softly behind him, Josh just stared after him for a long minute. Was this what he'd come to, yelling at helpless subordinates because he felt out of control himself? Making Donna an insulting job offer just to keep her neither too close nor too far away, risking the end of a relationship he couldn't afford to lose because he was afraid to just say what he was feeling? Being chief of staff to Matt Santos was surely going to be the first line of his obituary at this point, but at this rate it was going to be the only line. That wasn't what he wanted. Josh picked the Blackberry up, turned it over in his hands, then set it down firmly on his desk and went to find Sam.

Two hours later, Josh stopped by Donna's desk as she was putting together housing notes for the First-Lady-in-Waiting. She was incredibly organized, lists arranged in neat folders, everything in the exact right place and doubtlessly meticulously researched. She would be a good chief of staff, he realized. Probably a lot better at the everyday COS duties, the schedule-juggling and the gatekeeping, than he himself was going to be, even if she'd need to play catch-up for awhile on the politics. “Hey,” he began, his voice catching just a little bit. He cleared his throat when she looked up. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

She looked up at him, her eyes full of the emotions he was just starting to be able to read again after their long separation. Caution, plenty of that. Donna had become very cautious about a lot of things in the last year and a half. He hated that for her, but it would probably serve her well as she spread her wings in this nasty town. Under the caution, though, was hope. She was still waiting for him to get himself together, she still had faith he was going to do it. Just seeing it was enough to smooth the ragged edges of his nerves from the meeting with the President-elect. “Sure,” she told him easily, rising and following him to his office. “What's up?”

He closed the door, checked that the blinds were already drawn. “I told you earlier that I didn't think four weeks was enough time,” he started. “I changed my mind. I want you to give me one week.”

She blinked in surprised puzzlement. “Josh, what-”

“Please,” he interrupted. “I need one week from you. One week of your time, you and me, going someplace and doing all the talking that we should be doing and never have the time to do. And maybe other stuff too, like vacation stuff and beach stuff, all those things you always want to do when we're campaigning in  California or Florida and there's never any time. Or hell, we'll go somewhere that we can ski, there's gotta be tons of ski places open, right? It's fucking January!”

He closed the distance between them, wrapped his hands very gently around her wrists. “This could be the most important thing either of us are ever going to do, and it deserves time and thought and talking,” he insisted. “You're right that we're never gonna do it here, so let's do it somewhere else. Wherever you want to go.”

Her hands were warm in his, her eyes intent as she searched his face, trying to tell if he was serious or not. “You really mean it,” she said, mostly not a question. “The President-Elect?”

“Swear to god,” Josh promised. “I talked to him, I talked to Sam. One week, just for us.”

She smiled at him then, and while it was a little too uncertain to be her full sunshine smile, he could feel the warmth and promise of a new day in it. “Wow,” she murmured. “I mean... wow. When do we go?”

“Tonight,” he told her, bouncing a little on his heels. Now that she'd all but said yes, the idea was really growing on him. “Why wait any longer? It's not like it's going to get any easier the longer we wait? And for god's sake, I kind of think we've waited long enough, don't you?”

Her eyes widened as she considered all the many things that would probably have to happen to make a trip happen tonight, but she didn't say no. Josh counted that as an extremely good sign. “Tonight?” she repeated. “Oh my god... I have to talk to Mrs. Santos, and pack, and tell CJ I'm going and-”

“And pick a place,” Josh reminded her. “I've got a travel agent waiting for the word.” He grinned at her. “There's a thirteen hour flight to Hawaii leaving at nine tonight. Once you figure in all the time zones we're flying through, we could be there  in time for breakfast on the beach.” He counted her squeal and enthusiastic kiss as a yes. It was close enough for government work.

It was possible, remotely possible, that neither Sam nor Josh nor the President-Elect had fully considered the amount of planning to be done before a weeklong vacation, especially one that was being embarked upon with barely five hours notice. Josh had some kind of ultra-mega-golden frequent flier miles status after the campaign, and he suspected it was the only reason the travel agent didn't laugh in his face when he told her what he wanted. But he got the tickets, and he got a suite at what had better be an extremely nice hotel considering how much it was going to cost, and he got home with just enough time to shower, change his clothes, and put his very small amount of casual clothing into a suitcase. He was going to have to buy a swimsuit in Hawaii. Donna's end of the planning was a little more complicated than that, judging by her slightly wild-eyed look and two full suitcases when he met her at the airport, but after that, the rest was out of their hands and it was time to relax.

The flight got off only five minutes behind schedule, practically a miracle at National, and by the time they reached cruising altitude, both of them were ready for vacation. Josh put up the armrest to let Donna lean against him, just like they used to do on the campaign buses back in the old days. The caffeine was beginning to seep out of his system, leaving him jittery and nervous,  his stomach churning with too much acid. Donna ordered ginger ale for both of them and produced a sleeve of saltines from her bag, the same prescription she'd been using on him for years. This time she ate some of the crackers too, coping with her own stomach acid and blood-caffeine level. They made stupid jokes about airline peanuts and guys on the wing, then Donna showed him the travel guide to Hawaii she'd picked up at the airport. She had big plans, enough plans for two trips to Hawaii. It was probably some cunning feint to secure a second trip. He found himself strangely comfortable with the thought.

Josh eventually fell asleep where he sat, head lolling forward unceremoniously as weeks of stress and grief and exhaustion caught up all at once. When he woke, hours later, he was leaning against her where she leaned against him, asleep with her hand on his chest. The lights in the cabin were dim, noises muffled by cabin pressure and the overwhelming sounds of the engine. They wouldn't be talking much tonight, not here, not while they were both so tired. But that was okay, because now there was time to think, time to sit down and actually have a real conversation.

It was especially okay because now, with Donna's head resting on his shoulder and one of her dreams unfolding in front of them, Josh finally knew what he wanted to say. Having the legacy was good, writing the memoirs was good. Hell, one day he'd kind of like to have the money too. But he couldn't picture any of it meaning anything if he got there alone. Figuring out a relationship across the wings of the White House would be tough, but they'd done tough things before. And having so much of his future tied up in one person was only scary if he didn't trust that person to handle it. Donna was probably better prepared and more qualified to be in charge of the rest of his life than he was himself, but that wasn't her style. Just being there would be enough for both of them.

Josh yawned and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, smelling the citrus scent of her shampoo and the warmth of her skin. She mumbled something unintelligible in her sleep and snuggled in closer, her fingers tangling in the front of his shirt. With a sigh, he rested his cheek against her hair and closed his eyes again. They had plenty of time.

(This fic is also archived at AO3, same author name, with the title “Fortuna Audaces Iuvat.”)