#and by that she meant the d&d campaign that I spent weeks on

[eccentriccryptid]

Moms will literally blame everything but themselves and then also cry about it

[ebongawk]

The first time she said it, he thought maybe it was just a slip of the tongue or something.

"You're so pretty, Eddie."

They were sitting together at the picnic table, textbooks and homework spread out in front of them that Chrissy was diligently doing and Eddie was diligently ignoring in favor of making notes for his next Hellfire campaign. They'd been unlikely friends for a few weeks, Chrissy having come to him in search of drugs and instead found a tentative kinship with a fellow freak in the woods.

He looked up at her, feeling how rounded with surprise his own eyeballs were as he let out a guffaw of disbelief.

"I think that's my line, Chrissy. But a lowly jester sitting at the queen's court, I am meant to compliment your beauty that rivals the very essence of springtime. Not, uh, the other way around."

She giggled a little, but her eyes were still roving over his face. Searching for something, though Eddie had no fucking idea what.

After a minute, she shrugged, returning to her history essay.

Eddie just kinda figured that was that.

"Gosh, you're pretty," she said again a few weeks later.

He was riding the high of playing for her – finally, Jesus Christ – and laughed loudly enough for the entirety of the Hideout to hear. Still incredibly sweaty, he'd just jumped off the stage to come greet her immediately after their set finished.

Those were the first words that fell past the lips he'd spent more time than he cared to admit dreaming about.

"Damn, not even, 'Wow, Eddie, you're so good at guitar' or anything?" he jested, trying to shrug off her compliment with a joke. She beamed at him, giggling when he pitched his voice to try and match her dainty way of speaking. "You wound me, Cunningham! Am I not rockstar material?"

"All rockstars are good at guitar!" she cried in defiance. "But not all of them are pretty!"

"Not all rockstars are good at guitar! What about the bassists and the drummers and the singers?"

"That's not the point," she huffed before giving him that star shine grin that wrapped his heart in a fist and choked it until it was beating with the same resonance as her name. "But, um, you do play guitar really well, too."

That, he kinda figured, despite counting up all her little accidental compliments like rosebuds trying valiantly to bloom, should've been that.

But it was not.

"Eddie," she sighed, leaning heavily against his shoulder as they watched some stupid made-for-TV movie through the haze of their shared high. "Do you know how pretty you are?"

They were sprawled across the dingy couch in his trailer, snacking on popcorn – Eddie munching on, like, fifteen kernels to Chrissy's every one. He hadn't even realized she was looking at him.

Jesus. She was so close. So beautiful. Her pointy little chin pressed against his shoulder, staring up at him like he was a sunrise and she'd never before seen daytime.

"Me?" he scoffed, trying valiantly to buck the urge to kiss her. Fuck if he didn't want to, though. But that was, like, some law of the goddamn universe or something. Earth's magnetism sustained the gravity that kept everything from floating into space, matter cannot be created or destroyed, and Eddie Munson desperately wanted to kiss Chrissy Cunningham.

"Yes, you."

"Sweetness, have you looked in a mirror?" he asked, trying not to dwell too long on the verbal vomit that was this sudden introduction of a pet name. "You're a fucking knock out. Starlight in human form. Comparatively, I'm basically a gelatinous cube."

Though the D&D reference was lost on her, it did nothing to deter the sudden spark of fire behind her reddened eyes. In a move that stole the actual breath from his fucking lungs (since she already had the heart from his chest), Chrissy was swinging her leg over his and pulling herself into his lap.

Repeat for emphasis: into his fucking lap.

Both of her perfect, tiny little hands came up, gently cupping his jaw as she stared him dead in the eyes. Storm clouds meeting forested brown across burning coals.

"I may be starlight or springtime or whatever else you want to call me," she said, her voice taking on a severity he'd rarely heard from her. Not since she told Jason and his goons to leave the Hellfire kids alone a couple weeks ago, just before miraculously ending their monarchic relationship in front of the entire school. "But that doesn't negate the fact that you are also pretty."

"Uhh." She was way too fucking close for him to think clearly.

"Just accept the compliment, please."

He'd swallowed his tongue or something. Responding to her simply wasn't possible. He no longer had a voice box; it was lost in the ether of his weed-addled body. He just stared wide-eyed at the woman of his dreams who was currently straddling his lap and holding his face and opening up a variety of daydreams he'd had about this exact scenario, though not anywhere near under these circumstances.

A knock at the door broke them apart, someone calling through the door about pizza delivery, and Chrissy begrudgingly climbed off of Eddie to let him pay for their dinner.

He couldn't really let himself hope that she hadn't wanted to move.

"So pretty."

They were lying together in his bed, sweat still cooling on their spent bodies. Each of them turned onto their sides, eyes absorbing one another's nakedness as though still uncomprehending of how they'd made it to this moment.

Or, at least, Eddie was.

It was two-thirty in the morning when a frantic knocking had awoken him from a decently peaceful sleep. He'd stumbled out of his bedroom, expecting to find... well, he didn't even know. Something that most certainly was not Chrissy Cunningham, standing in her pajamas and tennis shoes, clutching the stuffed cat-bug-thing he'd won her at the Fourth of July fair two weeks ago with tears in her eyes and a determination set in the rigid line of her jaw.

(The plush was, admittedly, almost a little creepy, but also extremely cute, and it was the only thing Chrissy had gushed about for a full week, so.)

She'd barreled past him into the living room, bouncing on her toes and teeming with anxious energy that made his throat close and his eyes prick with tears unrelated to his interrupted sleep. It felt like she was here to slice his heart in two or something. It took true, actual willpower to shut the door and give her his attention.

"Uh, hey, Chrissy, what––"

"I love you," she blurted out, blinking like she hadn't expected those words to come out of her own mouth. Lips twisting, she pushed on, refusing to allow her admission to hang between them for even a second. "I'm, like, completely in love with you, Eddie. And–– And I've waited for you to notice, but you haven't, and at first I thought maybe you didn't like me back, and that was okay! Or, it–– it had to be okay, right? Because I valued our friendship so much. But then, at the fair, we were talking, and you mentioned that you liked someone, but you didn't say who, and I was so heartbroken that I cried for, like, three days, and then Nancy told me that I was being so dense, because of course you liked me, but how could that be, because you never said anything! And I thought I'd just come here and tell you because I can't keep it in anymore, Eddie, I can't––"

Her rambling had only cut off when Eddie finally found the strength to fucking move. He crossed the scant distance between them, cupping her jaw in his hands and pressing his lips to hers in a messy, imperfectly perfect kiss that tasted like pretty springtime starlight.

"Of course it's you, Cunningham," he'd rasped when they finally pulled apart. "It's been you my entire goddamn life."

They crashed into his bedroom after that, cat-bug-thing and tennis shoes and pajamas discarded in favor of skin and lips and hair and whispered promises caressing fevered flesh.

And now, she was gently caressing the line of his jaw, the curve of his cheek, the shell of his ear, and whispering, "So pretty," into the few inches of mattress between them like it was a brand she could sear into his very soul.

His first instinct was to shy away, to deny, to turn the compliment back on her and remind her that she was, in fact, the absolute definition of beauty in this world and every other galaxy. To tell her that sunlight fell from her hair and oceans crashed inside her eyes and every freckle dotting her skin was like a fresh raindrop on dewy summer grass.

Instead, he caught her hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to her palm, her thumb, each of her fingers, and whispered,

"Thank you, baby."

[solarishashernoseinabook]

For the trick or treat, could I get a Arald/Duncan? As a trick, please.

Here ya go :D

~

When Arald inherited his father’s position as Baron of Redmont, King Oswald came to personally offer his condolences for his father’s death. Redmont being so important to the kingdom meant Oswald had worked closely with Arald’s father Wellaby, and he said he looked forward to working with Arald in the future. Arald didn’t remember what he had said – empty platitudes, probably. Oswald had brought his son Prince Duncan along with him, and all of a sudden Arald’s plans of settling down with a nice young woman were dashed to pieces. He only tried to bring up his feelings once, when he and Duncan found themselves sharing a tent on campaign. In a low, hesitant voice, he asked if Duncan had ever felt any attraction to men.

There had been a few agonising moments of silence; then Duncan had laughed. Arald had forced a laugh as well, and they spoke no more about it. A few months later Arald proposed to young Lady Sandra de Claire, who accepted instantly, and they managed to live comfortably enough, even if Sandra had to acknowledge that she was not the only object of Arald’s affections. Arald, too, made peace with his feelings, or thought he had, and regarded Duncan as a good friend.

Months later, that friendship was tested when whispered rumours said Duncan had tried to poison King Oswald. Arald refused to believe it. Duncan was a good person, not power-hungry enough to kill his father. But then Duncan seemingly disappeared after a trip to Gorlan, and a few weeks later news came that he was fighting and raiding near the Pictish border. Arald was sure it was a mistake, but the news kept coming, and Arald was too busy running Redmont to track him down and find out the truth for himself. Soon, it became impossible to deny that Duncan was up to something. Arald tried to harden his heart towards Duncan, tried to tell himself he had been wrong about the prince, but it wasn’t that easy. Sandra spent many long nights comforting him as he cried over the betrayal.

And then the most wonderful news came – Duncan hadn’t been raiding at all, but imprisoned, and an impostor had been raiding instead. Arald leapt at the chance to save the prince and expose Lord Morgarath for the duplicitous traitor that he was.

He saw Duncan at the tournament at Gorlan. The change in him was shocking. No longer was Duncan neatly groomed and well-dressed – now his hair and bear were overly long, his clothing old and dirty, and he had a wild, restless look in his eyes.

It was quite dashing, if Arald was being perfectly honest. When Duncan fought a pitched sword battle with Morgarath on the last day of the tournament, all of Arald’s carefully-buried feelings came rushing back to him.

But nothing could come of them – that Arald knew. A year after the tournament, Arald stood arm-in-arm with Sandra at Duncan’s wedding. Lady Rosalind Serenne was a lovely bride, and Duncan a stunning groom. Seeing the prince there, so close yet so far, brought a lump to Arald’s throat that had nothing to do with the festivities. He had to excuse himself early, taking a few moments alone to recover.

He saw Duncan between then and the wedding, of course, but the next time they spent any significant amount of time together was nearly a year later. Queen Rosalind had gone to Woldon Abbey in the hopes that the sisters could keep her healthy through the last months of her pregnancy, and with Morgarath preparing to attack at any time, Duncan’s army was camped out on the grounds in front of Castle Araluen, ready to move out as soon as it was clear Morgarath would attack in earnest. The fear for his wife and child weighed heavily on Duncan, visible in the lines on his face and the set of his shoulders, and Arald felt keenly for him. But Duncan didn’t talk about it, and Arald didn’t press.

Until one day, when Crowley came back from Woldon Abbey with a newborn baby girl – and no mother in sight.

That night, lying awake, Arald heard the canvas door of his tent draw back and looked up to see Duncan’s tall frame outlined by moonlight. Arald fumbled with his flint and steel and lit the candle beside his cot. In the dim light, Duncan was a changed man. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face tear-stained. ‘She’s gone,’ he choked.

‘I know,’ Arald whispered. ‘I know. I’m sorry.’

Arald wasn’t sure what happened next. All he knew was that Duncan was on the cot next to him, and they were in each other’s arms, and Duncan was sobbing, and Arald was comforting him as best he could. All the while Arald felt like he was drowning in a sea of emotion, but he couldn’t say anything, not with Duncan as he was.

‘You asked me something, years ago,’ Duncan said. ‘You asked if I’d ever been attracted to men.’

Arald swallowed hard past a lump in his throat. ‘I did.’

‘The truth is…’ Duncan sobbed. ‘The truth is…sometimes I have.’

Arald shook his head. Not now, any time but now. ‘Duncan, please—’

Duncan kissed him, grabbing at his clothes, and it took some effort for Arald to push him back. ‘Stop.’

‘I need to forget,’ Duncan said. ‘I need to stop feeling things tonight.’

‘It won’t help, not in the state you’re in,’ Arald said. ‘But if you must, find someone else.’

‘I don’t want to find someone else!’ Duncan said. ‘You asked me!’

‘And since then,’ Arald said, forcing his voice to remain level, ‘I’ve committed myself to Sandra. As you committed yourself to Queen Rosalind.’

Duncan sobbed, and lowered his head to Arald’s shoulder. Arald hugged him close, and together the two men wept: one for what he had lost, the other for what he could never have.

[girlwithherheadinthestars]

the really complicated story no one asked for on how i became prom queen (karma is real)

i graduated and it doesn't matter any more but i still need advice bc idk how to life :D

cast:

me

academic rival (let's call him gingerbread -- no i will not be providing context for this name)

agatha (girl who i used to be friends with)

marjory (everyone loves her)

nelson (guy i've been friends with since we were kids)

eugene (guy i've liked since like i was born)

so for context gingerbread and i were dating in sophomore year, we broke it off because i said we're better off as friends (he's emotionally immature and i still had unresolved feelings for eugene) and i said we can still hang out as friends and he took advantage of that and we were basically hanging out more than when we were actually together. but then junior year begins and all of a sudden he hates my guts.

turns out he had a religious awakening over the summer and won't date anyone who isn't from his religion. so he developed a crush on marjory.

but then this year marjory rejected him and started dating nelson. but look guys i've known nelson my whole life but i would never ever date him because he did in fact go out with marjory while still with his ex. he's just weird. so gingerbread tried to intervene but because he's a possessive weirdo it came off badly.

and then i went to him and said hey. bestie. stop. this isn't a good look on you. leave them be. and then we got into a huge fight where he basically said our relationship never meant anything and i lost it. then he spent the rest of the month apologizing and buying me things and being all puppy dog and saying he didn't mean it and i eventually i relented.

BUT THEN

i realized i still liked eugene and i wanted to ask him to prom but when i told my friend agatha she told me eugene has a girlfriend from outside school who he's going to prom with and that she's much prettier than me (her words not mine). AND THE WEEK AFTER AGATHA GOES AND ASKS EUGENE TO PROM AND EUGENE SAYS YES.

so i talked to eugene's friend about this and he told me that agatha's been telling people that gingerbread and i are back together and he said eugene only agreed to go as friends.

infuriated as i was i still went to prom with my friends because it's my prom and i won't let anyone ruin it for me.

the night before prom gingerbread calls me and asks me to vote for his two friends to be prom king and queen.

i was like yeah ok whatever (i didn't vote -- i genuinely so busy my dress had to be taken in for shortening and that was a whole thing)

and then guess who gets voted prom king and queen.

me and eugene.

it was the most insane moment of my life i swear it was straight out of a frigging dream.

did we live happily ever after? i don't know. we spoke all of that night and then in graduation and i haven't seen him since (WHAT DO I DO)

but the repercussions of this? gingerbread is PISSED. so the girl gingerbread wanted to be prom queen is his best friend's girlfriend and everyone was texting her like do we vote for you? what's happening? and she was like no no no do not vote for me vote for (me) and eugene. they had a whole campaign because everyone knows how strict my parents are and the fact that i was allowed to go was such a miracle they wanted it to be celebrated (eugene was just a bonus, they were trying to make their ship set sail)

so agatha was left alone for the rest of the night sulking (*insert jojo siwa's karma* jk i don't endorse that), gingerbread glared at me the whole time, nelson and marjory came and congratulated me and eugene and i had our almost happily ever after.

my problems?

what do i do about eugene

how do i fix things with gingerbread (he's been such a good friend to me for so long and i feel so so bad even tho i know it's mostly his fault but i want to fix things before i leave and never see him again)

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E127 (March 2, 2021)

Tonight’s guests are, of course, Ashley Johnson and Marisha Ray!

Marisha, on her thought process behind the date: “It was a fascinating study on designing something with another player in trying to navigating how to do that in a way that makes sense and wouldn’t be too metagamey or overly scripted or anything like that. I had a bunch of ideas thought out, then I just typed it out and sent it over to him, and then he interpreted it as such.” Liam had ideas, but Marisha wanted him to keep the details a surprise. The theme of “let’s start over” was the leading motif for the design. Three acts: pre-game cocktails at the Nestled Nook, picnic in a field of Xhorhasian wildflowers, and then close it with after-dinner drinks and hot tub at the Steam’s Respite. And the very last thing was “and all the cats were dogs”. Brian: “What was his response to that?” Marisha: “He texted me and was like, ‘Are you serious or is this dog thing a joke?’”

Ashley is asked what it was like to know it was coming but not know the specifics. “For both of us, I don’t think we thought it was going to be right then. I think because it’s been so long in the relationship between Beau and Yasha and it felt like such a natural progression for the two of them, and they’re both awkward together. I think there was something to just being thrown into it.” She spent time thinking about what things Yasha would talk to Beau about on a date. “We got to maybe one of them. It was just so fun! Exploring romance in D&D can be super weird, especially when you’re streaming. But it felt like that’s where our characters were going. There was that excitement of trying something that is out of my comfort zone, and I think so much of Marisha was part of that, as being the initiator as Beau, where I was like, okay, this is where it’s going it. Let’s do it, let’s see what happens!” She mentions how “fun and freeing” it is to trust your improv partner in something like this.

Marisha: “I just wanted Beau to be a fuckboi!” But she highlights that it’s hard to deny the deeper connections that come up in D&D scenarios. “They’ve been with each other through so much that it’s difficult to deny when those bonds start to happen.” She texted Liam in a panic before the game. “What do I wear? And he said, ‘In the game or in real life?’ Both!”

Marisha was expecting a Sam curveball at some point. “My/Beau’s reaction of ‘I love you!’ was pretty accurate. She does care! She’s not just  a troll trying to ruin our shit.”

Marisha on Yasha liking dogs: “I clocked that shit when you bought a dog figurine.” She keeps notes about all the members of the party when they reveal things like that.

Ashley has started taking more detailed notes, partly to play catch-up for events she may have missed earlier. “Turns out, notes are very helpful and can help you in your RPing!”

Favorite parts? Marisha: “The fade-to-black moment at the very end, and I think it’s because Ashley’s eyes--maybe this is going to get weird--we had this moment where we were in the hot tub at the end, and I looked over and was like, ‘hey’, and you looked over and were like, ‘hey’, and I was just dead. I will never forget the look on Ashley’s face. There was just a pure moment.” Ashley: “That’s so funny, because I was going to talk about this one moment with Marisha. It’s just clicking into the scene and clicking into the moment.” Marisha talks about how the moments associated with the game have real, tangible emotional connections. Brian highlights that the emotional side of things is what you remember the most after the campaign is done.

Character thoughts on Kima? Marisha: “I was like, step on me! Please! Both of you! We’d be friends.” Ashley: “It’s also that nostalgia that feels so good at the table. These characters we know and love are still living and breathing and happy together and just kicking ass. For Yasha it was an amazing example of a relationship that works in this world, and something beautiful that these people who are different but are connecting. It was a lot of-- it was cool. I think Yasha’s a very big fan of Kima and Allura. When she gave over the sword, Travis texted me and was like, it’s the Holy Avenger. Looking it up and talking about it, it was like, holy mackerel, this sword is insane. But there’s going to have to be some conversations had to attune with the sword. But I like that Matt presented that challenge, that this isn’t necessarily in your class, but let’s do some RP and see what happens.”

Where’s Yasha at with the Stormlord right now? “I’m curious to explore that more, but knowing that the Stormlord was the first person to bring her back to her own will, of pulling her out of whatever was happening with Oban and the Laughing Hand for however long. It’s also weird to see the relationship that the clerics have, and I think Yasha’s still figuring out how to be her own person, but also... not serving somebody, but still trying to figure out that relationship with her god. But again, he saved her from a very, very dark place, and I think that’s something she values and holds on to.”

Cosplay of the Week: An amazing Essek! (Blushingvioletcosplay on Instagram)

How is Beau handling the Eyes? “All the theories! It’s hard for it to not feel like a ticking time bomb. I always have to try and separate my theories from Beau’s theories. That’s acting and shit. I, Marisha, am very interested if I can somehow utilize this to our advantage. Beau, also interested but simultaneously terrified that it might be a bad idea and I might just get further initiated. When it comes to Matt, you know there’s always something more lurking underneath all of this. As players it’s kind of our job to navigate that.”

How about Yasha? “I think it’s one of the things that didn’t really come up in the date, which is funny, because it’s something I was thinking about. Me as a player, that’s something I’m extremely stressed about. We don’t know what’s going to happen. We kind of got into it, but I think the fact that Lucien was listening, and the Eyes, I think it made me as a player as Yasha very nervous about interacting with Beau, because I don’t know what they’re picking up on. There’s so much we don’t know, and Lucien is so confusing, and the Eyes, and with Matt... we don’t know! It’s a point of extreme concern for Yasha, especially someone that she has feelings for and cares about, it’s an extra level of I don’t know what this means and I can’t lose this person, but I need to protect at all costs.”

What was it like for Beau to discover that Dairon and the Soul not only listened but took action? “That moment was so deeply powerful. Honestly, I was just as taken aback as Beau was. I never in both mine or Beau’s thought process did I think Matt would take action in that way, or that would ever be handled. And I think that’s what makes it so emotional. You condition yourself to think these things just happen, so much so that they permeate your D&D game. So rarely do abusers get held accountable for their actions. What was powerful about it was that he was, and other people cared. That alone was so emotionally impactful, and I was completely thrown by it. I feel like I had to walk away from that situation kind of unpacking those things. What does that say, what does that mean? Same thing for Beau, where the cycle of abuse has happened repeatedly to her with no repercussions to anyone who’s causing it. It’s why she’s always had a weird tenuous relationship with the Soul. It throws you into these layers of reconciliation and thought. I didn’t think this was going to be addressed. What does that say about society? So many different layers to peel back. It all speaks to so many real-life experiences that happen every damn day to so many people. There’s not many examples in media of abusers getting handled, and especially not in a way that’s not some sort of device to motivate somebody.” She highlights how rare it is that the abuser was handled without pulling the victim into the mess. I’m definitely not doing what she’s saying justice with my speed-typing.

How is Yasha feeling about solidifying her identity as a protector? “Putting together this character and starting to play as her, there was a part of me that wanted-- when I work on characters, you go through the list of questions you have as an actor, what’s your motivation and all that stuff. But I very much wanted to see if I could have a character that doesn’t necessarily know what their purpose is, because I feel like a lot of people feel that way. I think when we see movies or TV shows, there’s always a character who says, I know what my purpose is. I wanted to explore what it meant to not know what that is. I left that open with Yasha, and I didn’t want to set that for her, because I thought that was an interesting thing. I still like that idea, but in the conversation with Beau and knowing the date was coming up, there were a lot of internal conversations I was having of how is Yasha feeling in this moment. At the end of the day, I feel that’s a very solid purpose for Yasha in this moment, of all I can really provide is protection - and of course she can provide more than that. But now I’m just, yeah, I think protection for her is the best way she knows how to describe her purpose.” Brian: “And once we arrive there, the goal is to find a greater purpose, to be of service.” Ashley has tied in Yasha’s protectiveness with her grappling with loss.

Fan art of the week: A second amazing Essek! (by Saturday_sky)

Thoughts on the amulets: set-up or bad luck? Ashley: “I thought they were a set-up!” Marisha: “I think [Astrid’s] an opportunist. But I think it’d be much more convenient if anyone other than her killed Trent. To what end, I don’t know.” Ashley: “Me, personally, how I interpreted her crying in that alleyway, I felt like she was crying because of a betrayal. But I don’t know! I think she definitely cares for Caleb.” Marisha: “I also got betrayal tears. That felt like guilt-crying to me.” Brian: “I don’t like any of this.”

What prompted Beau going full assassin? “If they were to get in and out and I could have jumped over that tower without killing that guy, I would have.” She didn’t have a lot of options as a monk and not a rogue assassin, but needed a quick and quiet way to get him out of the way. “I went through so many ideas in my head. I thought of an idea to dump all of the ball bearings under him, then light fireworks” to try to get him to fall off the edge.

Is Yasha’s hope for Molly still alive? “Yes. I think that because Yasha has been on the other end of doing terrible things under someone else’s influence, she has a lot of forgiveness for people. At this point, of course, it’s hope that he’ll come back or have some type of recognition of his life as Molly. There’s a lot of questions. I don’t think she’ll ever give up on him.” The only moment of hesitation was when Lucien was cool with Gelidon leaving with Beau.

How are they feeling about their odds? Ashley: “I feel really great about the ideas that the group has to get out of tricky situations. This one I’m nervous about.” Marisha: “I agree. We have our little side player thread, minus Matt, and I don’t see how we’re getting out of this without some sort of compromise that’s not necessarily in our favor. I think we’re going to get out of it, but I don’t think we’re going to get out of it completely.”

Ashley didn’t tell Brian about the date after the episode ended, but wound up blurting it out right before he was about to watch the episode for Talks.

[munsonsgurl]

Maple Syrup

inspired by Maple Syrup by The Backseat Lovers

a/n: first song-fic. lmk how i did/ if you want more

It had been just over 3 months since she lost the love of her life. her soulmate, as he would say

she spent most of her time in her room. coming out only to eat and use the bathroom. which Dustin would classify as an improvement, giving that a few weeks prior she only ate one meal a day.

her door was always closed but never locked, at Dustin’s request. she knew he was hurting too and she didn’t want to add stress by letting him think she’d done the unthinkable.

Steve had been by exactly 4 times since the return from the Upside Down. he used to be her best friend, introduced by dustin of all people. she had snapped at him on his last visit.

“you have NO idea what i’m going through! do not sit there and tell me that i’ll be okay, Steve, i will break your neck,” she said, really screamed at him. she didn’t mean it. she would never say something so horrible to someone, let alone threaten anyone.

so steve stopped coming by, he would wait outside for Dustin but he never went any farther than the driveway, respecting her boundaries and need for space. he understood how miserable it was to grieve something that you weren’t allowed to talk about. but he also knew that she was the only person on the planet who was feeling the way you were.

how could she not be? had anyone else watched their boyfriend die saving the world? had anyone else held the lifeless body of their favorite person hoping they would wake back up, breathe, open their eyes?

Hopper stopped by the day he got back. he explained what she would have to say to people when they asked. the explanation of an alternate mirror dimension with demonic creatures never seemed to be plausible to the majority of the world. he told her that if she ever needed to talk or let some anger out to call him, he would be more than happy to let her take a few baseball bats to some old cars and junk he had at the cabin. but she never called.

she didn’t talk much after her blow up on steve. not to anyone. Dustin was worried but he knew that grief took different forms. he was silent for weeks after he had spoken with Wayne. talking meant crying and he wanted nothing more than to move on and stop feeling like that.

his sister, on the other hand, reveled in the feeling. the heartache just strong enough to keep a constant pressure on her chest. she would just wait it out until it released. she didn’t want to be a part of the healing process if Eddie wasn’t there to tell her how proud he was or how much he loved her.

But exactly 3 months, 4 days, and 9 hours after Eddie was ripped from her arms, she picked up his guitar. she had brought it back with them from the Upside Down. her only reminder of what she was fighting for.

the neck was busted, eddie had landed on it when he fell from the bike before throwing it to the side. She spent 2 solid weeks gluing every piece back together. her job at the music store finally paying off. she restrung the instrument and polished away the demobat scratches before hanging it on her wall. a constant reminder of what she lost that day.

so after 3 months she pulled it from the wall and began tuning. she had been working on something for a while now. Nancy had told her once that turning feelings into a story makes it easier to process and deal with them. she’s not sure why she remembers that but she’s so thankful that she does.

Dustin was sitting in the living room with Robin and his mom, talking about the D&D campaign that he ripped Robin into. he was quick to hold his arms out, signaling for everyone to pause. he held a finger to his lips and began walking towards your room. did he just hear music?

he motioned for Robin to come closer but to stay quiet. “do you hear that?” he whispered.

Robin leaned closer to where the noise was coming from, a gentle strum and mute on the guitar. “is that y/n?” she asked as quietly as she could.

Dustin nodded and began walking forward when he heard her voice.

“i still have your picture on the wall. i still have the nightmares where i would have to call you to calm down” she was singing softly, like she was on the verge of tears

“i still think about you all the time. when i step out of the shower i’m reminded of the night when we slept in the back of your car, and it left me with a really cool scar,” the music was getting stronger, more confident. the lyrics still remained in that so-close-to-crying range.

“it hurt, when you left me on the curb, now i’m all alone, i guess i’ll never learn.” the tears were now falling from her face as she verbalized what she was feeling for the first time in a very long time.

Dustin looked to Robin, “should we leave? i feel like this is private”

“she’s opening up. even if it’s not to us i think we need to know how she’s feeling, don’t you?” she asked

“you’re purple sweaters sitting in my room. i want to wear it but i know that it’ll smell like you.” the tears were now streaming

“i saw you chanting at the game last night, but you stood in the back and i think that we both know why.” her voice was now strained.

“it hurt, when you kicked me to the curb, now i’m all alone, oh yes i’m all alone. and you lied! when you took me on a drive! and you said that you would stay right here i wish you would have kept your word.”

Dustin hears a guitar riff, eerily similar to the one Eddie taught you when you first started dating. he doesn’t realize it but tears are streaming down his face as well. he fought against every urge to burst into his sisters room, but Robin didn’t.

She was in her room in an instant before pausing, seeing Y/n Henderson, Hawkins High “Hard-Ass” curled into a ball on her bedroom floor hugging an electric guitar and sobbing.

no words were exchanged as Dustin and Robin piled in. Dustin carefully removed the guitar and hung it back in its rightful spot. right above the polaroid of Y/n and Eddie sitting on the hood of his van, both wrapped in winter coats and leaning on each other.

Dustin came back, and with Robins help, helped her up onto the bed, sitting next to her on either side.

“i miss him so much”, she sobbed. the first words she said to her brother in months.

“i know you do, i do too. so much. i wish you didn’t hurt so much. he wouldn’t want you to.” Dustin said carefully, hoping he didn’t cross any boundaries.

his sister had calmed down enough to breathe properly. she nodded on his shoulder. “if he was here right now he’d be begging to watch sixteen candles or something stupid to cheer me up. he always hated those movies.” she said with a short, dry laugh. “everything reminds me of him.”

stoic was not a word that had ever been used to describe y/n henderson. punk? sure. mean? occasionally. devoid of emotion? absolutely not. what she lacked in approachability she made up for tenfold with compassion and heart.

losing the one thing in life that made it worth living, that was the straw that broke her back.

As time went on, Max was released from the hospital, permanent leg brace and glasses were the only remnant of what had happened to her. She had invited her to movie night at Mikes. an old tradition for the younger ones. And she accepted.

Steve was the first to approach when she showed up. “let me start by saying i’m sorry. that was way out of line for me to try and rush your grieving process. and i totally get it if you never want to talk to me again, but just know that i genuinely understand why what i did was wrong and i will never do that again to anyone.”

“Steve, it’s fine. i lashed out at pretty much everyone. i made my mom cry. but i accept your apology and you’re forgiven i guess, dingus” she said wrapping him in a hug.

she would have to learn to adjust to being hugged by everyone but her boyfriend, but for now she was content to convince herself she would be able to eventually.

Dustin never really got his sister back, but he’s beginning to accept that he’s getting his best friend back. no matter how long it takes.

[jessbakescakes]

the recent prompt list - 40 with j/d please!!! what you said when you met my parents!!!

40) Things you said when you met my parents from this post.

Okay, I got this prompt about four different times (that's a good thing, you all have great taste and I love it), so consider this my response to all of them. I did a little twist on it, so I hope you enjoy it. Post-series J/D on this one with bonus Mama Lyman.

Yup, you read that right. Post-series. You'll see.

Thanksgiving 2006

“I probably should have brought wine,” Donna muses, taking a right turn into the quiet retirement community subdivision where Josh’s mom lives. “We should have stopped at the store.”

Josh laughs. “You know she doesn’t care about that.”

“She may not, but I do,” Donna counters. “It’s rude to show up without a gift when you’re a guest in someone’s home. We’re looking for number 683, right?”

“Yes. Red shutters. You’ve been here before,” Josh reminds her. “You’ve been here before, and you’ve met her before.”

“Not as your girlfriend, I haven’t.”

He reaches over and takes her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “I promise you, she’s going to be thrilled.”

Donna looks at him, wide-eyed, for a split second before turning her gaze back to the road. “She doesn’t know I’m coming?”

“I wanted to keep it a surprise!” Josh argues. He’s not sure that this is the best strategy, showing up with Donna for Thanksgiving without a word of warning, but he’ll be the one who’s under the microscope, not her. In Rachel Lyman’s eyes, Donna Moss can do no wrong. As soon as they’re alone, Josh’s mom will give him the third degree about marriage and babies, when he plans to propose and why it took him so long. He’ll obfuscate a little, lower her expectations, maybe throw his mom a bone toward the end of the conversation just before Donna finishes.

And maybe, just maybe, he’ll ask his mom to find his grandmother’s engagement ring at some point before they leave.

Donna turns into the driveway and turns the car off, turning to look at Josh before they step out of the car to grab their things. “Are you sure…”

Josh almost lets her finish, but gives her hand, still intertwined with his, a gentle squeeze. “I’m positive. It’s gonna be fine.”

She gives him a half-smile and lets out a long exhale. “Okay.” Donna opens the door and walks around to the trunk of the car to grab her bags.

Before Josh can make his way back there with her, the front door to the house opens, and his mother steps outside. “You’re here!” Rachel says, making a beeline toward her son and pulling him into a hug. “I just saw on the news that there was heavy traffic, I assumed you’d be stuck in that for a little while.”

“We managed to avoid too much traffic,” Josh says. “I think we got on the road right before it got too bad.”

Rachel pulls away from Josh, leaving a hand clasped on either one of his arms. “We?” she asks, her eyebrows raised. She looks around Josh toward the back of the car and gasps. “Donna!” Rachel lets go of Josh and darts toward where Donna is standing. “What a wonderful surprise!”

“It’s so good to see you,” Donna says, returning Rachel’s enthusiastic hug. “Thank you so much for having us.”

“Oh, of course, it’s no trouble at all,” Rachel says. “This is the first time I’ve seen you since you changed your hair! You look fantastic, sweetheart.”

Donna beams, her cheeks flushing pink as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ears. “Thank you.”

Rachel grabs Donna by the arm, leading her toward the front door. “Are you hungry? I’ve got some cookies out on the coffee table for you, so hopefully, that will hold you over until dinner.”

“That sounds great,” Donna says, allowing Rachel to pull her into the house.

“Joshua, hurry in with the bags, we don’t want bugs in the house,” Rachel calls over her shoulder.

Josh grabs the luggage and brings it inside, shutting the door behind him as Rachel and Donna walk into the living room. He places their bags in the guest room, then stands back and watches as his mom leans toward Donna and whispers, almost conspiratorially, before Donna takes a seat on the couch. Whatever she says before she heads to the kitchen elicits a laugh out of Donna, along with Donna’s first genuine smile since they left their apartment early that morning.

Josh walks into the living room and takes a seat on the couch, reaching for Donna’s hand as he settles in. “What’s she doing?”

“Grabbing us some coffee,” Donna says.

Rachel walks into the living room, a mug of coffee in each hand, and places them on the coffee table in front of Donna and Josh. “Josh, if you need any more cream or sugar, you’ll have to…” Rachel stops for a moment, looking at their intertwined hands and then back up at Josh.

“Mom,” Josh starts. “Don’t get…”

“Finally!” Rachel interjects, her tone exasperated but the grin on her face revealing her true feelings about the situation. “Took you two long enough.” She takes a seat in the chair adjacent to the couch, reaching for a mug of tea sitting on an end table to her right.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Josh laughs.

Rachel shrugs. “The rest of us have just been waiting for you to catch up for years.”

Josh pauses for a moment. The rest of us? Who is 'the rest of us'? Before he can ask her this question, his mother is already on an entirely different train of thought. “Donna, I think I remember how you take your coffee, but if you need anything else for it, feel free to grab whatever you want. That goes for everything, towels, blankets, plates, silverware… Josh, show her where everything is tonight before you two turn in, would you?”

“Okay,” Josh agrees, still trying to process the ease with which his mother has accepted this big change.

“Oh, also, Donna, I actually meant to show you something. It’s this tea set I found at an estate sale,” Rachel says. “Well, it’s not a set, really, just a teapot and two teacups. They were just so pretty, and I thought of you when I saw them. I’ll go get them.” She stands up from her chair and disappears down the hallway.

Josh turns to Donna, whose smile has grown bigger and brighter than it was a few minutes ago. “I’m so sorry, she’s going to do that annoying thing where she tries to send you home with a teapot and teacups, and whatever else she saw and bought because she thought of you. Just remind her we flew here.”

“It’s okay,” Donna laughs. “I think it’s sweet. Makes me feel… I don’t know, like she likes including me. It’s nice.”

Rachel has been including Donna for years. That started sometime after Rosslyn, in the weeks they spent together at his place taking care of him. It happened after years of birthday gifts for both of them, mailed in the same package, with one shared note, always signed ‘Love, Mom’. It happened between their rushed thirty-minute coffee dates on the campaign trail (where they undoubtedly talked about Josh) and weekly phone calls and ‘I know you don’t celebrate Hanukkah but I thought of you anyway’ gifts to be followed by a round of Christmas gifts shortly thereafter. It’s been ages since she stopped considering Donna a guest and started considering her family.

There’s something that feels right about watching the two of them together - he’s seen them together at least a dozen times over the years, watched them bond during his recovery, but this time it feels different. Donna isn’t his just assistant anymore, she’s not simply his best friend. She never was only those things, if he’s being honest with himself. She’s always been so much more.

Now he gets where his mom was coming from.

“Well, I think you’re stuck with her now,” Josh teases.

“I’m okay with that,” Donna says softly.

[blysse-and-blunder]

in lieu of a commonplace book

6pm, sunday, sept 12, 2021

what, again? i hear you cry. yeah, me too. this is a quick a roundup after the zeroth week of the term which is promising to be the most chaotic yet.

reading finished watership down! i get the reputation that this book has now, for making cute woodland creatures dark and dramatic-- but it was the mythological/linguistic/poetic stuff that i liked the most. the lapine vocab just always ended up...sounding and tasting very satisfying, good mouth feel. and at last section with the assault on efrafra was so stressful-- and the various twist endings!-- and i was glad to realize that i'd gotten personally invested in a couple of characters; seeing bigwig in the epilogue, having grown old, having survived, hit me hard.

i also finished the chosen and the beautiful, and turned around and have told everyone i talk to about it. i've also picked up aliette de bodard's in the vanisher's palace, and it has been reminding me incessantly about the d*sney film raya and the last dragon, which i watched a little bit of on the plane to nyc. like!! the world building, the dragons, the post-apoc setting, the big gay energy. this novel seems to only have characters who use she or they pronouns, and they address pronouns in some interesting ways too, to convey formality, register, intimacy between characters, etc. i wish the overall writing style was less variable though-- the geometry of the titular palace is meant to be anti-geometric, nausea-inducing, dizzying, and sometimes the jumps from scene to scene almost mirror that?

listening this is my memo to myself to click on my mutuals' music links more often. i took a chance on @girlfriendsofthegalaxy's cowboy-joke post of miya folick's "stop talking (about that boy)" and then spent a solid week on a miya folick kick, just listening to her same album premonitions. i don't know if i can shoehorn my dnd character's backstory into the lyrics of "deadbody", but something about the righteous fury in her voice, it really does feel like faertrin, and in my head it's an anthem for my weird little man. please listen to it for its own sake, though, the video makes it clear that it's really about domestic violence vel sim, not dnd revolutionaries.

watching nothing quite like getting to the end of the timeskip in the untamed in grand style, with lotus root and rib soup made by the inimitable @pep-squad-lizzie, a heartbreaking montero powerpoint by @dimir-charmer, dessert by @hematiterings, and emperor's smile by me, after nearly eight months of working on this show together. y'all. the catharsis. i can start posting things from my drafts folder now that Certain Characters are dead, thank god, i only have uhhhhh 1k drafts or so.

playing my dnd campaign one resumes tomorrow! they're all coming over to my back porch, for my first time hosting after being in this group for more than a year! i'm feeling extremely normal about this!

making a housemate and i threw some brownies together last night, while keeping out of the way as an outgoing housemate moved out-- it went fairly quickly, wasn't nearly as tense as i was afraid it was, and we sent them away with a mushy brownie piece each. phew.

working on in a rare moment of only having one (more or less) project to work on, i actually sent my prof a draft outline of the paper the same week i had planned to, as well as the updated draft of the intro essay with all the changes she asked for. now to...outline a diss proposal..........spent thursday being back in an academic library for the first time since march 2020, which was fine, even mildly comical as i watched new students try to navigate the stacks elevators, it was very like 'well this is business as usual and not even that nostalgic' up until i stepped into one of the classrooms in this particular niche topic-specific library on campus, which just looked so...hopeful and nervous and expectant, with its carefully marked seats and hand sanitizers. when will there be an in-person palaeography class in there again? not this fall. but the room is ready. :')

[biteghost]

How do you come up with so many cool characters?? All of your OCs seem so vibrant and fleshed out. Do you have a specific process for developing them, or do they just kinda come to you mostly formed? I find I struggle with building a compelling OCs for D&D games & would love to hear your thoughts on character development.

(This answer got long, sorry.) This is a super nice sentiment, I’m happy you think my characters are all cool and unique!!

As far as process goes, uh, it depends on the character? I’ve spent a long time (years) rewiring my brain when it comes to what I think about when creating OCs. They don’t usually come to me fully formed - I get an idea in my head about a concept, and then over like a week or even months of fiddling I end up with a character for that concept.

A lot of the time my characters are simply people I wanted to see more of in media as a kid! Mostly, female characters I actually relate to or are as nuanced and messy as their male cast members, haha... (It was a trip when I realized in high school that I didn’t hate female characters - it was actually that none of them were written as well as the cool boys in the anime series I liked, haha! Be the change you want to see in the world, basically.)

Inspiration for characters (and stories for them to be part of) come from a lot of places. An easy piece of advice is to make an effort to intake media you like! Read new comics, watch new movies and television shows, read books, play video games, listen to music and obsessively memorize the lyrics - hell, obsessively learn everything there is to know about black holes or public domain characters (that’s what I did, lol...)!

(Note: ’New’ meaning new to YOU - you don’t need to only be partaking of media that’s created in 2021 - you can find a lot to love in media that was created before your time, or for generations before you!)

I must reiterate: intake new media that you ENJOY! You don’t have to like all the same things as everyone else, you don’t have to be invested in the same shows and podcasts as your friends. Varied interests and taste is part of what makes us all unique! Increasing your pool of inspiration will help you come up with interesting ideas, and help you find YOUR voice. Your particular interests and the niche things that speak to you will help you figure out what kind of characters and what kind of stories you like to create! But the process doesn’t end at just intaking media... When you find the stuff that brings you joy, analyze what exactly it is about that thing that speaks to you... Put it into words. Explain it to a friend. Make it tangible, analyze the feelings and why the series made you feel that way... and then take it and shove it into your own stories, lol!

Engage critically and thoughtfully with work you like, with characters you like, and it will help you have the language and thought process to recreate it in your own work!

My creative process is like an exquisite corpse of all the characters and series I’ve liked over my lifetime. I mesh them all together in a grim blender and what comes out is a shake in the vague shape as an OC, lol

BUT... it seems like you’re asking more specifically about making characters for tabletop roleplaying games like D&D? And THAT is a different process for me than making OCs for my comics or original story ideas!

I don’t usually join a tabletop game with a fully fleshed out character, actually?? I don’t spend a long time on their backstory, and I usually figure it out like halfway through the story, or through collaboration with my game master!

My TTRPG characters are usually whatever I think would be most interesting in the given game setting or set-up and... usually they exist in opposition to whatever the core concept of the game is. So, the examples I have from games I’ve played are:

In Cardians: West (World of Darkness: Hunter the Vigil): we played in a modern-day urban fantasy setting, where players were recruited into a supernatural Hunter group that was also a criminal organization that Did Crimes and Broke The Law in the name of keeping peace and protecting humanity from the supernatural creatures that go bump in the night. I played Andrew, a Lawful Good Police Detective, because I thought playing a character who would need to grow past his original ideals of ‘Right and Wrong’ in the name of the greater good would be interesting! (And it was!)

In SINNING ADVENTURE (WoD: Geist: The Sin-Eaters) we payed in a modern-day urban fantasy setting with the premise that the players all Died and were brought back to life by forming a pact with a powerful spirit (and getting cool ghost powers in the process!) I played Cassius, a character who could not cope with his death, and thus refused to use his new powers because they were evidence that he was no longer strictly human. It caused conflict in the group and world, but I thought it would be interesting! (And it was! Cassius was a Bitch.)

In Rex Machina (Dungeons and Dragons 5E), I wanted to play an Aarakocra, but was having a hard time deciding on a class or backstory... until I found out that in the ‘canon’ of D&D Aarakocra only live to be like, mid 20s???? Their lifespans are insanely short compared to other playable races!! And I thought that was stupid, so I decided to make MY Aarakocra, Izzy, a warlock that’s looking for ways to extend his own stupidly short life. His pact essentially granted that to him, giving him extra time to find a way to achieve True Immortality. His conflict challenges what’s ‘true’ living in this world, and his extended life is in direct conflict with a lot of forces in the world we play in, and while it is very stressful I think it’s really interesting to play!

In Lamplighting (Monster of the Week), my character Aicen is an assassin who made a deal with a demon and gained supernatural perks out of it... except I decided that she doesn’t WANT to be in this deal. She is actively trying to undo it because it wasn’t her deal - she inherited it from a CEO that she killed during an unrelated job. (Aicen is probably my character I’ve put the most backstory into, and that’s just because at character creation in MOTW you are given a lot of questions about who your character is and why they’re where they are!)

In Hand of Adam (WoD: HtV), the concept was that all players were going to join a post-apocalyptic supernatural-hating cult. I played Shouter, who was a self-preserving pacifist coward who also turned out to be a fae (which the cult would have killed him over). It was stressful but very fun. I love Shouter. He ran away from fights and didn’t actually kill anyone until the last episode where they fought God (whom he killed, lol).

NOW. THESE ARE ALL JUST EXAMPLES OF HOW *I* LIKE TO PLAY CHARACTERS!! For me personally, I enjoy playing a character who has built-in conflict either with the world, the story, or the other players. I’m only able to play characters like this because my friend group are all really cool and we all know that conflict is not bad - it’s fiction and we’re just roleplaying! If I didn’t trust my GMs and fellow players as much as I do, I probably wouldn’t have felt comfortable enough playing some of these concepts.

I don’t think you need to know every little thing about a tabletop character, and in fact, not knowing some things and leaving it up to the GM and story to flesh out is an easy way to help you get more invested in both your character AND the story your GM is telling! Tabletops are a collaborative storytelling experience, so if you’ve already plotted out your character’s whole story, there won’t be much participation from other players or your GM. Figure out what your character wants, and let your roleplaying and GM slowly put all the other pieces in place over the course of your campaign!

But the TL:DR about how I make tabletop OCs is that I just... try to give them a goal, an ideal, or a personality that is in direct conflict with some aspect of the game we’re playing. I don’t want the character to be undermining the whole game, because that’s really crappy to do to your GM, but I have to have something for my character to grow through or change. I like giving them built-in character arc starters, lol. I haven’t played a game where my character has gotten along with every other player character and NPC over the entire campaign since my very FIRST game, lol!

Also, if you’re having trouble, why not ask your GM what they think? Again, tabletops are collaborative! Don’t be afraid to talk ideas out with your GM for your character.

A final note about playing in specifically oneshot games (i.e. games that are not long campaigns but are meant to be played in one or two sittings). Personally, I always just retrofit an OC I already have to play in oneshots! When I make a new character for a long campaign, it usually takes me two or three sessions to find their voice and figure out how to roleplay them. If the game you’re playing is only one session, I find it easier to jump right in and get the most out of your character and the game when you’re playing a character you already know pretty well! I’ve played characters from my webcomic quite a few times, and it’s always a lot more fun for me than figuring out a new character on the fly!

SO UH, IN CONCLUSION... sorry if this is mad unhelpfu!! My personal processes are unique to me! but that's the point - no one person will have the exact answer that works for you! You have to keep trying until you figure it out for yourself! Good luck! Keep creating! <3

[viewmasterfeeling]

Mike realizes he is big gay

Thanks for the request! (this is longer than i intended it to be... oops)

(fyi, it starts at Mileven goodbye, which is when I hc Mike’s Gay Realization)

Here on ao3!

A Realization

Mike stood in Will’s empty bedroom, across from his ex girlfriend, mind buzzing.

“Mike…”

El approached him, love in her eyes. Mike felt trapped, cornered. But mostly, he was frozen. He didn’t know what to do. The only thing he did know was that he didn’t want to kiss El.

Which was weird. She was his girlfriend , he was supposed to…

“I love you too.”

He was supposed to love her.

El just said ‘I love you’. I should be happy, I should be full of emotion, I should…

But the words didn’t make Mike feel anything at all. Except for confusion, maybe. Mike didn’t remember ever saying he loved her. He didn’t remember ever being in love with her.

He froze again as El closed her eyes and pressed her lips on his. Like she’d done so many times before. Only this time, Mike didn’t make an effort to kiss back. He didn’t want to. He didn’t even close his eyes, but kept them wide open in confusion, discomfort, and panic.

Will.

What? No no no. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about Will when he was kissing El…

Oh.

Oh my god.

El broke apart and gave Mike such a soft smile that Mike felt bad for her. She deserves someone who can give her what she wants.

Because… Mike couldn’t.

No, no, no. I’m not supposed to. I’m straight. I’m in love with Eleven.

But he wasn’t . That was the problem.

He didn’t want to kiss El.

He… Oh, god… He wanted to kiss Will.

Mike watched El and the last of his heterosexuality walk away. He had so many questions, and he didn’t want to answer any of them.

Later.

-----

The rest of the day passed in a haze of bittersweet goodbyes. The hours dragged out but also passed in a millisecond.

Mike sat in the basement, flipping through the binder of Will’s drawings. Smiling at some of the older ones, where Will was still discovering his style, and laughing at a picture of Will The Wise shooting green fireballs.

When he reached the end, he felt a pang of sadness. Will had stopped giving him drawings a few months ago, and Mike never really understood why. It hurt even more now, thinking about all they’d been through that summer…

“It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why did Mike even say that?

Who was he really talking to when he said that?

Mike pushed the binder away, frustrated. Why was he such an idiot? Why did he feel this way? Why couldn’t he just be normal?

Why is this happening? This… This is crazy.

A different memory forced its way into Mike’s head.

“Hey, well… If we’re both going crazy, we’ll go crazy together, right?”

“Yeah. Crazy together.”

Mike couldn’t help smiling at that.

But then Mike remembered that that was a while ago, and times were different then, and now Mike had ruined everything.

He picked up the binder again, and this time, he didn’t want to let it go. In a way, it connected him to Will.

Will .

I just want to think about Will.

Will Byers, the boy with bright eyes and a soft smile, an infectious laugh. He was patient, he was kind, he kept everyone on track. He was always, always there for Mike. Even when Mike was dating El and treating Will like a jerk, he was still there. He was always there to listen to Mike, always willing to make time for Mike.

He was perfect.

Oh god. It’s just supposed to be a crush. (Well, it’s not supposed to be anything.) I’m not supposed to be in love with him!

But Mike reconsidered everything. Every day he’d ever spent with Will. Every moment they shared. From meeting him on the swings, to laughing through Elementary school and sneaking off to the trees at recess, to meeting Lucas and then Dustin, to first learning to play Dungeons and Dragons, and naming their friend group “The Party”, to…

To losing Will in the Upside Down.

That was the worst week of Mike’s life. He’d always known that as a fact in his mind. Even worse than the time he got sick on vacation and kept throwing up on Nancy. Even worse than any of the 353 days without El. Mike held the binder close to his chest, shutting down his thoughts for a moment and reliving the fear and desperation and finally, indescribable amounts of relief.

After Will came back, things were different. But Will was still Will. He was still the one who was kind, patient, and Mike’s best friend. They were still close, probably even closer than before. Mike helped Will through the Mind Flayer’s possession (the second worst week of Mike’s life), and in the end of it, he got Will and El back.

Mike felt a little selfish for claiming Will’s week in the Upside Down and Will’s days being possessed as the worst times of his life-- he knew it must be so much worse for Will. But losing Will meant losing part of himself.

Maybe… Maybe I am meant to be in love with him. Maybe I always was.

It was the same now. Now that Will was leaving. Mike was losing a part of himself that he might never get back.

Well, at least I have this, he thought, flipping through the binder again. Reliving all the moments where Will would show up to a D&D campaign with a new work of art.

Mike smiled at the sight of Will. A split second after, he noticed a paper in his hand. “Hey, what’s that?” Mike asked.

“Oh, it’s just a thing I drew for your campaign.”

“Wow, is that the party?” Mike asked, getting a closer look.

“Yeah. Do you like it?” Will’s eyes were nervous.

“Like it? I love it!”

“You can keep it if you want.”

Mike grinned and took the drawing. Will smiled softly, and Mike felt so proud…

That scenario, so many times… And Mike always wished he could give something back.

Hey… maybe he could. Mike was never an artist, but he could put words to a page.

And Will deserved something. Something special from Mike. Maybe not a fantasy story, though… A letter.

An apology.

Mike stood quickly and grabbed a stack of paper and a pencil. And intently, the boy began to write.

[sirpoley]

On the Four Table Legs of Traveller, Leg 1: Mortgages

Mongoose Traveller's starship mortgage-payment-system is the most brilliant game mechanic I've ever encountered, as a DM. It's also the first rule I'd ignore if I wasn't consciously trying to play the game exactly how it's described in the book.

A Bit of Background

I've been involved in two Traveller campaigns in the past as a player (both with the same DM), and am currently DMing a third. All of them are using Mongoose's first edition. I've never played any other edition of traveller, and know almost nothing about the history of the game. I don't know which mechanics are unique to this edition of Traveller and which have been around for decades.

In the campaigns in which I was a player, I think the DM was continually frustrated with the rules of the game. He wanted to run a tight, story-focused campaign and picked up Traveller assuming it would be, essentially, D&D in space. For his second campaign, he chopped out huge chunks of the ruleset and replaced it with homebrew ones, removing space travel and Traveller's quirky character creation entirely. This worked for the game he wanted to run (he's an extraordinarily talented DM), but I think we all came away feeling pretty lukewarm about the actual rules.

Bored out of my mind in lockdown, desperate for anything to shake up the daily routine, I picked up the copy of Traveller that had been sitting on my bookshelf, untouched, and skimmed through it. In a mood of "I'll humour this weird rulebook," I followed the random subsector creation chapter to the letter, creating a surprisingly-well fleshed out chunk of space to play around in.

It was then that I realized I'd never actually played Traveller. So I dragged my partner along in an experiment: let's play Traveller, exactly how it is described in the book, no matter how flat-out insane the rules seem to be. I will only consider houseruling or changing a rule once we've both figured out what it's for. I learned a ton in this experiment, so, during my kid's naps (oh, right, I have a daughter now, that's where I disappeared to, Internet), I'll write about what I've learned.

(The Carlia Subsector. Not pictured: along with this map is a LONG word document describing the atmosphere, gravity, population, tech level, cultural quirks, government, etc. of the main world in each of these systems, plus a huge table of the price of dozens of trade goods on each planet. These, it turns out, are crucial game aids. I'll get into them later.)

Traveller, I've learned, is a table held up by four legs: Finances, Character Creation, Patrons, and Random Encounters. If you remove any of these legs, the rest of the game stops working. Following them, as described, gives you a rip-roaring swashbuckling adventure of fighting pirates, escaping bounty hunters, smuggling, jailbreaks, and all that good stuff you want in a campaign—but it happens spontaneously. I'll get into it more in detail, but for now, we're going to talk about finances in Traveller.

Yes, the Game Is About Mortgage Payments

The central driving mechanic of Traveller is making mortgage payments for your starship. The assumption is that the player characters are part-owners of an FTL-capable starship that's more expensive than any one person, or any ten people, could ever afford outright. The game (thankfully) provides a quick way to calculate your starship's mortgage payments (something like the value of the ship/240 per month), and for all of the example ships in the book, gives them to you pre-calculated. In the case of my solo campaign, my partner owed the bank a whopping 500,000 credits a month for her Corsair. For scale, that's the exact same price as the single most powerful gun in the game (the "Fusion Gun, Man Portable"), owed monthly. In D&D terms, she had to raise the equivalent of a +5 Longsword every. Single. Month.

(In addition to mortgage payments are smaller fees: life support (i.e., food and water), crew salaries, fuel, and ship maintenance, but the mortgage is by far the largest single expense, so that's what I'll focus on).

I started my partner out with a fueled up and fully-crewed ship (we used pre-generated NPC stats from the middle of the book for her crew, plus an NPC who was generated during her character creation, which I'll get into later). Character creation started her with 10,000 credits, and I told her she had until the end of the month to multiply that by fifty times.

Debt Leads to Trade

The fastest way by far in Traveller to make money is to interact with the very well fleshed-out trade rules. Each spaceship has a certain amount of tons of cargo it can carry, and each world has a list of trade goods for sale at various prices. So the clear way to raise that 500 grand was to speculatively buy trade goods, pick up passengers and freight, deliver mail, and so on. These rules are generous; by stacking modifiers, it's possible to reliably quadruple your principal every time you reach a new planet (which happens every week).

I think my old DM severely nerfed the trade rules (he also didn't enforce mortgage payments, leaving them on the cutting room floor like D&D's Encumbrance rules) due to this seemingly-unbalanced generosity. Again: the best gun in the game is 500,000 credits—so how on earth can a system that lets you make hundreds, even millions, of credits by trading stand?

Well, it turns out, the bank simply taking 95% of your player's earnings every month severely dampens potentially-snowballing nonlinear growth, so my partner and I never saw the kind of wealth explosion that looks inevitable from the rules as written, despite her scraping together everything she could do maximize profits. In all the time we've been playing, despite having already made millions of credits, she actually hasn't been able to buy a gun better than her starting laser pistol, or, in fact, any armour at all. I'll get to why in a moment, because the most important thing about the trade system is that…

Trade Leads to Travel

Garden worlds sell cheap food. High-population worlds buy food for a high price. High-population worlds sell manufactured goods that are in high-demand on non-industrial worlds, and so on. In a quest to maximize profits, the party was locked into a continual tour of the subsector I generated earlier, constantly moving from place to place. Staying put for any length of time meant letting time trickle away (time that could be spent raking in cash for crippling mortgage payments), so that wasn't an option. What wound up happening was that the party went on a self-guided tour of the subsector, stopping in at colourful worlds I'd generated earlier. This happened entirely without me, as DM, having to dangle bait in front of the party the way that I always have to in D&D. Travel is good, because…

Travel Leads to Conflict

I've already spoken at length on the subject of random encounters here, but Traveller really builds the game around random tables in an elegant way. Every time the party jumps from one world to another, there's a chance they'll get waylaid by pirates (the rulebook has a fun, albeit hidden, 'pirate table' that describes different tricks and hijinks that pirates use to attack). 'Pirates' in Traveller are spaceship owners unable to pay their mortgages by legitimate means, so turn to piracy. The fact that the party is always carrying their life savings in trade commodities whenever they travel around makes them a prime target for piracy, and leads to combat with stakes beyond "fight till everyone's dead." The pirates aren't orcs, and don't want to kill the players for no reason. They want to take their cargo and get away as quickly as possible, suffering the least damage as possible, and the players want the opposite. Thus: pre-combat negotiations, tricks, hijinks (my partner, carrying a cargo of "domestic goods," chose to have her crew throw individual toasters out of the cargo bay each in different directions to ensure that the pirates had to engage in lengthy EVA-missions to catch them each, thus allowing her ship to escape without suffering damage).

Traveller's starship battle rules are fun (and integrate into boarding actions that results in player-scale combat), and are triggered primarily just by moving around. Conflict is fun by itself (that's why combat rules are most of the rules in most games), but in this context, have the added advantage, as…

Conflict Leads to Tradeoffs

It became clear to my partner after her first run-in with pirates that her ship and crew were under-gunned. While buying powerful weapons and armour is trivially cheap compared to the amount of money she was raking in through trade (most weapons cap out at a few thousand credits, and she was moving hundreds of thousands a week), actually getting her hands on some was another matter.

Good weapons in Traveller are advanced ones, which have a high-TL (tech level) rating. These weapons are only available on high-TL worlds (each world has a TL rating generated in subsector generation). Making a detour from trading to buy 'adventuring equipment' wound up being an extremely costly endeavour, taking the party weeks out of the way of the most profitable trade route. The closest world in which these weapons exist also outlaws all weapons (various laws are generated procedurally as well) which means engaging in black market smuggling (which is fleshed out in the rules) and risks run-ins with the law.

Compounding this problem was that her Corsair took minor damage in the combat with the pirates, and the nearest world with a shipyard capable of repairing the ship was different from, and out of the way of, the high tech world with fancy fusion guns. Also, getting the ship repaired meant that it would be in drydock for days or even weeks, which incurs an opportunity cost of almost a million credits that could have been made during trade…

Tradeoffs lead to Debt

In her case, she wound up getting her ship repaired, forgoing arming herself and her crew, and skirting dangerously close to bankruptcy kicking her heels as her ship was patched up. There isn't an easy answer to what she 'ought' to have done, which was fun as hell. Further, as a DM, I wasn't annoyed that she was 'messing up the plot' by staying put (or frustrated that she wasn't going to my elaborately-plotted narrative that would occur when she tried to buy black market weapons) because there was no plot. Everything that came about emerged procedurally.

The 'Loop'

The beating heart of a Traveller sandbox campaign is this loop:

Without DM intervention (or Patrons, which are sort of procedurally-generated adventure hooks), this loop can sustain a campaign pretty much indefinitely. What this means as a DM is that any DM-interventions (i.e., adding in pre-written adventure hooks or encounters or whatever) can be attached to any of these steps to allow it to come about during play. It also means that if you don't have any pre-scripted content (to choose an example completely at random, let's just say your hypothetical one-year-old threw your notes in a toilet) you can just sit back and let the loop above take care of providing entertainment.

To bring this back to mortgages, if your players don't have the threat of having their spaceship repossessed by the bank hanging over them like the Doom of Damocles, then the whole system breaks down, and the DM has to do all the heavy lifting of providing character motivation to go explore new planets.

Next, we'll talk about how Traveller's patron system ties into all of this.

[walkingshcdow-a]

The other day (a week ago, lbr) I played D&D in a campaign @professor-of-predators​ is DMing and then, afterwards, I tried to make a Pinterest board for the character I’m using: Finnegan.

In this universe, the Silverguards are a renowned elven family of silver dragon bloodline sorcerers. Finnegan’s father and mother married in the hopes that by marrying an ice draconic line with a fire draconic line, they’d create The Ultimate Sorcerer.

They created Finnegan instead: a fire sorcerer with an icy personality.

Anyway, I was trying to make a Pinboard of his D&D self and I lamented to the party how hard it was to find 1. male, noble, elven sorcerers and 2. elves with short hair. Someone (Clare or Marty) said that elves have long hair because they’re meant to be aligned with the natural world and what’s more natural than long hair? But we all agreed: human or elf, Finnegan does not have long hair. We kicked around the idea that he keeps it short to be practical but then Marty BLEW MY MIND:

“Finnegan has spent his life in cities, but the division between urban life and the wilderness is artificial. Nature finds a way to thrive every time. An urban biome is still a biome. Have you considered that Finnegan has short hair because it is in line with his biome, the city, an is therefore, in a way totally unlike what his parents intended, a new type of elf?”

She then lamented that Jane couldn’t study him more. Which is what Tumblr is for, I guess.

Anyway, I just took a shower and washed my stupid, long hair and thought about that. Marty, if you’re reading this, I am accepting this headcanon. It won’t leave me alone. 

[xellandria]

Zmija Yilan was a temporary character I played towards the end of our Tomb of Annihilation campaign after my boy Alexus got petrified by a beholder somewhere deep in the bowels of the tomb itself.  We were able to “salvage” both him and Amara (who had also gotten petrified in the same fight) by shoving them into the Bag of Holding, but short of having the two of us sit on the bench while the remaining two party members waddled back to town, we had to roll some new characters.

I spent most of the week between the petrification and the new characters appearing being mad at myself for not remembering I had Inspiration I could have used to reroll either of my failed dex saves and not being able to do much beyond that, but with less than 72 hours left until she had to debut, I finally pulled an idea out of my butt, ran it by the DM because it involved Shenanigans™, got the OK and started designing her. Thus was born Zmija Yilan, whose appearance was based partly on an old photo that was semi-viral on Tumblr several years prior and partly on Xelloss from Slayers because when I’m in a pinch, that’s always who I fall back on, and have been doing so for like, 20+ years at this point lmao.  Personality-wise, there was a post floating around Tumblr that week about proverbs in various languages that, when translated literally or without context, made very little sense so she got a lot of that (and associated misunderstandings based on language mix-ups) mixed in with—again—Xelloss from Slayers, because I am a hack.  I would probably never play her again because she was so firmly entrenched in that campaign and also there’s some parts of how I designed/played her that I look back on and am like “ehhh I’m not sure I’m comfortable with the optics of this,” but I enjoyed playing her a lot more than I expected, and I look back on the end of our Tomb campaign very fondly because of it.

I haven’t been able to talk about her in public both for a lack of reason to do so and because I didn’t want to “spoil” my group in case they found my various social media posts, but as it’s nearly a year since she was introduced and nine months since the campaign ended, I’m gonna absolutely wall of text the shit outta this bitch, rofl (that said there’s baby’s first nekkid pin-up under here so assuming Tumblr lets me actually post it, fair warning for that under the cut)

Zmija Yilan - level 8-10 Human* Warlock (Great Old Ones/Pact of the Tome) (usually this is where my D&D character posts put stats but I don’t actually have access to her character sheet anymore, so let’s just pretend she had something ridiculous like maxed Charisma because I remember my spell DC being ridiculously high)

Zmija Yilan is a traveler from the far-off land of Zemlya, and a disciple of Matrymriy, one of the "family" of five gods in the pantheon of that region.  Matrymriy came to Zmija in a dream one night and told her to travel across the seas because She had a task for her, and that she would learn more once she reached her destination.  She's been traveling around Faerun for seven or so years—reaching one place, being given hints to go to a specific location, and upon reaching it, being told to travel on without seeming to do much more than just Be There.  Upon reaching Chult sometime within the last few months, her patron's hints indicated that she should travel to a place called Shilku Bay; she hired a guide (named Salida) and a bodyguard (a Fort Belurian mook) with what little locally-acceptable currency she had; they got separated after being attacked by a band of undead, and after failing to reunite with them, she was wandering around lost, trusting that Matrymriy will guide her where She desires her to go.

Part of her wandering had her end up in the Tomb of the Nine Gods itself, where she encountered our adventuring party (down two player characters) desperately trying to find their way out of the tomb in the hopes of returning to Port Nyanzaru to depetrify their friends.  Our barbarian’s player immediately distrusted her because I’d drawn her tabletop token with her back to the camera, which was an awkward feeling almost immediately returned in-game because both the barbarian and paladin aren’t hardcore RPers but they had to carry all the RP weight as they were introduced to this new character and explain that they were there to destroy a lich (both because it was the source of all the bad undead in the area, and because they’d been promised a reward—a motivation Zmija understood, as “a hungry bear will not dance.”)  Beyond the usual RP awkwardness there was an additional layer of awkwardness between the characters IC as at the time, Thokk was barely wearing more than a breastplate and loincloth, while Zmija was covered neck-to-ankle despite the heat and humidity of the region.  She claimed that in the culture of Zemlya, having strangers see your skin was a mark of great shame and that modesty was of paramount importance, so seeing so much of him was very off-putting and threw her off-balance for much of their initial interactions. 

Getting off on the “wrong” foot with the party and pushing as hard as I could into Zmija’s quirks (the weird proverbs, sprinkling in her Zemlyan vocabulary and making a point of her being from Very Far Away with Very Different Customs) meant I went a little too hard on them at the beginning, which is partly what I’d do differently and partly why the whole thing ended up working, so it’s a weird retrospective balance.  If my partymates had ever shoved (almost) any of the names or places Zmija mentioned into google, they probably would have twigged to the scheme pretty dang fast.

In reality, Zmija is not a human traveler from Zemlya, because surprise! she's actually Zsaksatyi, a Chultian Yuan-Ti Pureblood under the command of Fenthaza.  She worked as a bit of a double agent/interrogator within the Fane prior to her current assignment (hence her spell list's focus on information gathering, silent communication, and manipulation); she's been fleshing out her alternate persona for years and would occasionally pretend to be a captive and be thrown in one of those cells the party was in to get relevant information from the other prisoners, or assist others that were interrogating prisoners by more direct means (via Detect Thoughts).  In-universe, the language she pretends to speak is mostly made up, and something she's been working on for years at this point—it's not a fully-fleshed conlang and she only has a couple hundred words and phrases but it's enough to be consistent and believable when she sprinkles it into regular speech.  Since there's no real risk of running into anyone else from Zemlya (because it doesn't actually exist), it mostly didn't matter, and since there's actual meaning behind the words she does have, in theory it would have held up to a spell like Comprehend Languages as well. Out of universe, the language she speaks is an amalgamation of my own conlang stuff (which, like the in-universe version, is very limited and not complete) and various words and phrases pulled mostly from real-world Slavic languages (russian, croatian, hungarian, etc) with a little bit of Turkish thrown in when my English-only ear felt that it fit or when I had already used a word and needed another word for the same thing.  Zsaksatyi (pronounced dzahk sot-YEE) is the only name/word in the whole mess that doesn’t actually mean something somewhere, and was a combination of syllables from an online Yuan-Ti name generator that I kinda liked together. If she had ever been outed, I would probably have come up with something a little less cumbersome for me and my (almost certainly wholly monolingual) D&D group to say... but she didn’t, so Zsaksatyi it stays!

She very much looks up to Fenthaza and almost idolizes and worships her—if she ever had to choose between Fenthaza or Dendar, things might have gotten a little bit rough for her (possibly no matter which way she ultimately jumped, though I imagine Dendar's vengeance would be more immediate, if Dendar's a hands-on sort of patron).  Thankfully (for her), there was very little risk of that given that the party had left Fenthaza on reasonably neutral terms (having already helped her oust Ras Nsi from his position of power in the Fane and the party having essentially marked that dungeon as “cleared”). Fenthaza had sent her to scout the Tomb of the Nine Gods and locate (or steal) an artifact known as the Black Opal Crown, which will allow the Night Mother to emerge into the world.  The group actually came across the crown pretty soon after Zmija (and our other new character, a firbolg druid named Mei Ren who replaced our cleric, Amara) joined them, but the party couldn’t figure out how to get it out of the room it was in and Zsaksatyi was content that it would be safe from both our group and other adventurers there while she found her way back to the Fane (though she Sent the location to Fenthaza in case she wasn’t able to make it back).  That was actually like, halfway through the session right after she’d been introduced so having her sneak off that fast would have been absolutely wild, so I kept playing her as Zmija and while there were myriad opportunities for her to be discovered—including a hallway where any non-magical non-living thing got evaporated, up to and including clothing—she never was.  The fact that the only spells she ever used spell slots on were Hex, Counterspell, and Identify never really got commented upon, because prior to her joining the party we didn’t have a source for any sort of utility magic and we’d been feeling the lack for a while.  She was a lot of fun to play just as Zmija once I got the hang of her, but the hidden agenda that only our DM & I knew about was an extra layer of fun, too. It would have been neat to see how the party reacted to a reveal, but unless Jim wants to take us back to Chult to actually deal with the Night Mother’s return (because without having to keep up appearances and alignments, I’m pretty sure I could have gotten that crown out of there even before the weird teleport-defying magic of the Tomb got turned off), her story is over for us—taking her outside of the setting she was designed for would be weird... plus we already have two warlocks (well, one and a half) in a party of four PCs; adding a third would be a little bit bizarre, I think.

Her more Yuan-ti features include scales down her spine and across her shoulderblades, on the backs of her hands, and on her hips and thighs—mostly in reds, oranges, and browns, but as she increases in power and connection with the Night Mother, more of them are darkening to Her blue-black; it started right at that spot between the shoulderblades where you always picture being stabbed in the back, and has expanded from there; I imagine by level 20 all of her scales would be that blue-black and may have encroached further on the more human-y leather bits, probably encroaching on her face at the last, which would make being a spy a lot more difficult (even moreso than wearing as much clothing as she already does) but I guess at level 20, do you really need to be sneaking around pretending to be human?

In direct sunlight or other very bright light, her pupils constrict to slits, which is the real reason for her heavy eye makeup—between the distraction of it and the (somewhat exaggerated) squinting that such light induces, it often goes unnoticed, as it did with her character portrait (although to be fair to my party, Alexus also has slit eyes because that’s one of the traits of elves and half elves in D&D, and also I’m not sure if they ever saw her portrait any larger than 150x150 or whatever Roll20 shows them at). Both her top and bottom canine teeth are sharper, longer, and narrower than is typical for humans, and she is careful not to grin too widely and will cover her mouth when she laughs or yawns, whether she is in disguise or not.  That part I’ve never drawn though, so I can’t really point to that as something the party overlooked, heh.  In hindsight, I wish I'd given her more/heavier snake features but even the official art for Yuan-Ti player characters are very light on them and getting around the differences between human and yuan-ti racials without tipping off the party was hard enough as it was—I took the 120 feet of magic-ignoring darkvision invocation to disguise the fact that she innately had darkvision, I never used my racial spells and abilities unless I was willing to “use” a spell slot on them and had another plausible way to have obtained them, the one time I got hit with a poison ability (which she was immune to) I spent a lot of time “figuring out the math” on how much HP I had to drop, etc.  I also wish I’d given her darker skin, as she is supposed to be Chultian but she is significantly lighter than all the NPCs we came across.  Then again, I’m as white as a sheet soaked in bleach so there’s something weird about me RPing folks of colour regardless (especially given her fake backstory, agh agh agh) so yeah.  Really enjoyed her, don’t regret her, will not ever play her again rofl

In our very last session of Tomb of Annhiliation, the party—fresh off the victory over the big bad lich whose name I can never spell and his weird world-eating fetus—headed back to Port Nyanzaru via the Aarakocra village of Kir Sabal, which the previous variant of the party (of whom only Thokk remained alive and mobile enough to talk to them) had helped out significantly earlier in the campaign, unlocking a flying ritual that we were like “man we’re not coming back here if we’re gonna use it we gotta do it now” to get us the rest of the way to the port.  En route, Zmija tried to leave the group and rolled a secret 15 Stealth roll... contested by 17 and 18 perception rolls from Mei Ren and Thokk, but as she wasn’t carrying much of the party’s stuff and it was the end of the campaign, they kinda just let her give some line about seeing them again in the future maybe, the Mother’s will is unknowable, etc etc.  I think if Duf and Kattii didn’t know that I wanted Alexus back as badly as I did and that we were like twenty minutes (real time) away from actually getting him back, they might have considered that more suspicious than they did.

Pronunciations (and translations): (mostly C&Ped from her bio, which is the only part of her character sheet I can still access on Roll20)

Zmija Yilan: zMEE-ah yee-LAHN.  Because I'm subtle as hell, that's Croatian/Russian/Ukranian (first name) and Turkish (last name) for "snake/serpent," according to the internet.  What do you mean Remus Lupin is a werewolf?!

Matrymriy: mah-tRRuh mRREE (Rs are rolled).  Matrymriy is Zmija's claimed patron—one of five major Zemlyashan dieties—but she'll state that she doesn't know the name that she goes by in the local dialect.  That's only partly true, of course—мати мрій is Ukranian for "Mother of Dreams" (at least according to google translate), which is close enough to her patron's actual names and titles (Dendar, the Night Mother) that she can get away with it without actually raising suspicions about the true source of her powers.  She'll also do that thing where if someone tries to say the name back to her she'll "correct" them by saying it exactly the same four or five times and then "give up" and accept whatever "butchered" version the speaker comes up with, except she'll do it even if they're actually saying it perfectly correctly.  She may do this with her own name as well (sorry, Jim. And Duf. And Dustin. And Kattii. And Kattii's coworker, if he ever joins us and I'm still playing this character by then, lmao.) (2021 addition: and literally everyone who has a name that isn’t typically pronounced by us English-only plebians, I am so sorry I’m not better at your language)

Zsaksatyi: dzahk sot-YEE.  Zmija's real name, when she isn't pretending to be a human.  That doesn't mean anything as far as I know, it was just a combination of some of the syllables the random Yuan-Ti name generator was coming up with that I liked (which is also where "Itszella" was from), lol.  I may end up changing it to be less cumbersome at some point, unless it comes up before then and ends up written in stone, but I'm on a bit of a time crunch for the moment.

Zemlya: zem-lyah.  If pressed for more detail on where in Zemlya she's from (e.g. by someone pretending to know details about her country), her home town is Fal'shyva (fall-sheh-VAH), southeast of the capital of Hayali (HI-yah-LEE) and just north of the port city of Farazi (fah-ra-DZI), which is where she originally sailed from seven years ago. фальшива земля is Ukranian for "fake land," Hayali is Turkish for "imaginary," and Farazi is Turkish for "hypothetical," lol.

Proverbs & (approximate) Pronounciations: (if I recall correctly, asterisks indicate ones I had used, so I didn’t repeat myself too frequently)

Wziąć się w garść (zvun shih garsch): lit. take the self into the fist (polish), pull yourself together Галопом по Zemlya (gal-OH-pohm poe zem-lyah): lit. galloping across Zemlya (russian), to be hasty/haphazard. * У кого немає собаки, полює з котом (Ooh koe-hoe meh-MIGH-eh soe-BAH-kay, poe-LOO-yay koh-tome): lit. who does not have dog, hunts with cat (ukranian, original proverb is portugese), make do with what you have. Z choinki się urwałaś? (dzi hoink-E she urr-vahl-wash): lit. did you fall from a Candlenights(aka Christmas) tree? (polish), you are obviously not well-informed; are you dumb? * Mi o vuku (MEE oh voo-koo): lit. to talk of the wolf (croatian), speak of the devil. * Thalai muzhuguthal (tha-LIE MOOz-GOO-thal): lit. pour water over someone's head (tamil), cut off a relationship. * Хоть кол на голове теши (coat-coal nah gohl-ehvee teh-SHEE): lit. you can sharpen an axe on this head (russian), a very stubborn person.

Other Languages Are Hard Today, Let’s Just Proverb It In English:

Cat's Forehead (japanese): a tiny space, usually used humbly to refer to owned land. It fell between chairs (swedish): group work that everyone assumed someone else would do, and didn't get done as a result * It gives me a beautiful leg (french): fat lot of good that'll do me Drown the fish (french): avoid a subject by talking about anything and everything else, confuse the issue In a river with piranhas, the alligator swims backstroke (brazil): protect your weaknesses * Accusation always follows the cat (iraqi): it's easy to blame someone who can't defend themselves The honey only sticks to the mustache of he who licked it (arabic): he who smelt it, dealt it * A hungry bear does not dance (greek): the reward must be worth the cost (or at least exist) * The crayfish sides with the crab (korean): people who have a lot in common stay friends * If you can't live longer, live deeper (italian): get the most of your time * A spoon does not know the taste of soup (welsh): intelligence is not wisdom Examine what is said, not who speaks (arab): don't take things at face value * Turn your face to the sun and the shadows will fall behind you (new zealand): have a positive outlook He who does not travel, does not know the value of men (moorish): wide experience is gr8 Do good and throw it in the sea (arab): don't expect anything back from kindness * Shared joy is a double joy; shared sorrow is halved (swedish): friends make things better If you want to go fast, go alone.  If you want to go far, go together (african): strength in numbers, speed on your own.

[jace-beleren]

I’ve fallen deep down the rabbit hole of D&D, and I’ve mentioned previously that I super ship my character Casrius with my best friend’s character Mellina (we never intended this but shit happens). And now I’m feeling a dangerous combination of bored at work and self-indulgent so here I present: a comprehensive (and mostly chronological) list of Significant Moments™ that power this ship.

1. A few sessions in, Mellina (who has been very quiet and reserved to this point) agrees to go out on the town with the rest of the party, looping her arm through Casrius’.

2. Mellina tries alcohol for the first time. Casrius helps her back to her bunk, and she mumbles “I’m sorry I didn’t write you a letter today, Reyna” referring to her deceased sister. “She’ll forgive you, just this once. Go to sleep.”

2a. The next morning: “So that was a bit embarrassing last night, and very private. Just forget you heard anything.” “I’ve already forgotten what we’re talking about.”

3. The party visits a curio shop, Casrius finds a pipe and tries it out, only to find that it blows bubbles. Mellina bursts out laughing, and he responds with “Now that’s a beautiful sound.”

4. Havatha is the goddess of life, death, or both, depending on who you ask. Casrius poses as a cleric of the Death church, while Mellina is a staunch believer in “the balance” of both sides. They run into each other at the temple, and noticing that Casrius has only put money in one offering bowl: “I think you missed one.” “Did I?” *a few minutes of small talk* *as Casrius turns to leave* “Casrius, I have a riddle for you. If I drop a gold piece, and it lands with one side up, does that mean the other side doesn’t exist?” “Not at all, it just means that was the side I was meant to see. *bows and takes his leave*”

5. Casrius comes downstairs in the morning to join the party. To the artificer currently in disguise self: “This looks good.” Then to Mellina, noticing that she has her hair down for the first time in the campaign: “This also looks very nice.”

6. The party is discussing having Casrius fake-marry a local who’s been helping the party in order to get her papers to leave town. The druid, only partially listening and thinking the conversation is about Casrius and Mellina: “Oh really? Well congratulations you two, I always thought you’d be good together. I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

7. After watching Casrius over-pay for a bunch of goods and make a significant donation to the local orphanage: “You’re very generous with your money to complete strangers.” “This is where I grew up. That orphanage raised me, and these people don’t have it easy here. It’s the least I can do.”

8. Mellina is in some kind of debt situation that requires her to fulfill assassination contracts on demand from her employer. After receiving one with minimal time to prepare, she asks Casrius to help her while keeping it a secret from the rest of the team. Despite being adamant that she go alone, she finds Casrius waiting for her a block away from the target, sitting on a bench in the snowfall. She tries to walk past, but “Does your telepathic connection reach this far?” “Yes.” “Then set it up and let me know if you need help.” “*telepathically* Fuck off.”

8a. After the contract is successfully completed, Mellina states very clearly that she doesn’t want to talk about it. But the next night, slips a paper under Casrius’ door that just reads “Thanks”

9. Mellina gets to be better friends with the party’s druid and starts reading to him every night. Casrius shares a room with the druid at this point and refers to the experience as “a bit strange, yet oddly endearing.” At of today, “oddly endearing” has made a few more appearances.

10. In response to Casrius asking how the party can help when Mellina is issued a second contract: “Goddammit Casrius, I can handle this myself. I’m a professional and I’m perfectly capable of doing this on my own.” “I know you’re a professional and I know you’re capable, but we’re your friends and we care about what happens to you when you go off on a dangerous assassin mission by yourself.”

11. Casrius has spent an evening trying to teach the druid how to play dragoncheckers, with no success. Mellina wanders past and starts explaining rules that make no sense, eventually explaining that her brother made up wacky rules when they were kids. Casrius and the party’s artificer spend the rest of the night studying those rules.

12. Mellina invites Casrius out for a midnight stroll, linking arms in a callback to #1. What follows is a very deep conversation about the morality of her assassination contracts, since all the targets so far have been very bad people. Mellina also expresses that she’s in this situation against her will, but cannot talk about it any further than that. On the way back, they chat animatedly about Mellina’s version of dragonchecker rules.

12a. Casrius spends several hours over the next 2 weeks practicing those rules with the artificer.

13. Casrius comes into contact with a tracking beacon that starts to burn and sink into his hand. When healing doesn’t stop it, he barely succeeds a STR check to just rip it out of his palm, leaving a gaping wound. While he’s gasping for breath and grimacing through the pain, Mellina gently reaches out to take his hand and bandages it.

13a. The next time the party is in town, Mellina asks Casrius out to lunch. She had gone out and commissioned a custom made set of fingerless gloves for him. “I know you feel uncomfortable about your hands, and now with that scar you might use these. You can still use your fingers for the blood hunter stuff but uh, yeah. You’re a practical person, I’m surprised you didn’t already have a pair.” Casrius, a bit embarrassed about the difference in scale, also has a gift: a bookmark, because apparently Mellina didn’t have one despite all the reading she does.

14. Mellina’s brother, who lives in the capital and works for her secret employer, finds out that Casrius has been asking about how to contact him without Mellina knowing. So they meet for lunch, and Casrius explains that he wants to know who Mellina is working for and the nature of her debt, so that he can pay it off or do the work for her. Mellina’s reaction upon learning of this exchange: “You absolutely foolish, honorable, adorable, tiefling man.”

15. The party is found by members of the Order of the Vein, who are tracking Casrius down. This has been an ongoing concern, and they find our camp while Mellina is on watch. She agrees to wake up the rest of the party:  “Casrius you need to wake up.” “Mmmm you said I didn’t need to take a watch tonight go away.” “*covers Casrius’ mouth with a hand* I need you to wake up. Calmly. The Order of the Vein is here.” eyes snap open, immediately reaching for sword “Nonono. *pins his wrist with other hand* they’re just here to talk. This is why I came to get you quietly.”

15a.  Casrius has to agree to have a tracker implanted, just like all the Order members do. So one of them sticks this thing in his shoulder close to his neck and used some flame magic to cauterize it, and it was specifically stated that as Casrius gritted his teeth through the pain Mellina visibly restrained herself from jumping in.

[cosmostasia]

Cosmostasia’s Story

So as I mentioned in my first post, Cosmostasia is the character that I played in a long-form Dungeons & Dragons campaign with some of my best friends in high school. Obviously we were all getting ready to graduate, go off to college, etc., so we decided that once we completed our last campaign objective, we would find a way to tie up the story. It was a kind of bitter-sweet realization, but we made a lot of amazing memories along the way!

I joined the game during my junior year in high school, probably a few weeks after the game itself was started. My then-friend (now girlfriend) was in the game and had invited me. This was my first game ever, and honestly, I’ve never had so much fun with D&D! Our DM was an expert in just about everything, ran the game smoothly, answered just about every question... He’s a great DM, but I’m sad to say that since graduation he’s had almost no time to run another game.

But that’s all reminiscence about better days, not the story!

My character - at the time, named Anastasia - was a shapeshifter wizard. Most of her studies involved mapping the cosmos, reading star charts, and understanding the movements of the celestial bodies. I’ve always loved space, so it felt right making a wizard who was also an astronomer!

As the campaign went on, my girlfriend’s character (a tiefling bard name Tarx) basically became Anastasia’s love interest. Yes, there was romantic and intimate involvement, but we never really went into that kind of detail at the table - it was more heavily implied, “fade to black” than anything. Of course, that never stopped my mind from racing and thinking about how our characters did things... Normally, Anastasia had a relatively small bust, but Tarx was pretty open with his preference. Anastasia, of course, is a shapeshifter.

You get the idea there.

Moving on though, we went on to deal with a lot of problems throughout the world, from roving bandits and raiding orc factions, to entire armies of undead being raised and controlled by an ultra-powerful lich named Victus. Victus would become a recurring villain for us since whenever we killed him, his soul just returned to his phylactery and he would reincarnate at an unknown location in the world.

Our final campaign arc involved the Queen of Sarpathion, Queen Anisterian von Draxxis. A few of our questlines had involved going and saving some of the princes and princesses of the von Draxxis royalty - apparently they had been kidnapped at different points and no one was able to find them. Or at least, no one was brave (or stupid) enough to challenge the people that did it. From bandit chiefs to full-blown warlords and archmagi, one of whom turned out to be an ancient black dragon (imagine fighting THAT at level 10!!). Well, we managed to round the three of them up and bring them home to safety.

W R O N G .

Turns out what we had actually done was deliver Queen Anisterian the three children she had borne specifically for a blood sacrifice. For context, the von Draxxis line were all tieflings - part of the only reason Tarx cared at all about them was because they were like him, and he’d been treated poorly in other kingdoms.

Apparently Queen Anisterian was waiting until just the right moment when a solar eclipse would coincide with a planetary alignment (which my character knew about btw! We had been talking about this for months in advance!). During that brief moment, the time would be right for her to sacrifice her offspring and drink their blood, turning her into a matron vampire.

What she hadn’t been counting on was that our party in had become good friends with Dimerius, Alistarge, and Valliana von Draxxis. Lots of fun adventures and hard-fought victories were won by their sides. As such, if she was going to hurt them, she’d be answering to us. She also didn’t know that this ritual (which was apparently copied from the Book of Vile Darkness) would also cause untold instability in the Weave around the ritual site. Basically, you use magic within a mile of this place, and reality has a pretty solid chance of just unraveling itself. Fun, right? We got to learn this because one of our characters was a less-than-good-and-not-in-a-neutral-way vengeance paladin, and he’d managed to catch a glimpse of the Book of Vile Darkness the last time we’d dealt with Victus. It was that moment when we realized something was up (you know, a section that explicitly states “the blood of three of the mother’s offspring” seems a little obvious). That’s when we started making our way to Castle Draxxis with some help. 

This was around the time we were going to be concluding our campaign; we were all level 16 and were very capable of taking on such a threat. We’d worked with a lot of people and by that point, we were able to convince enough allies to band together and lead an invasion on Castle Draxxis. Of course, every time we had been there since the first time, the castle always felt slightly more... Off. And Queen Anisterian herself was sickly and unwell. She’d even made the comment at one point that her reign would soon be at its end, and then the kingdom must answer to her eldest son.

As we led the invasion, her armies fought as we suspected they would, up until the gargoyles adorning the buttresses and spires of the castle began to crackle and move. They came alive and made it impossible for us to march on Castle Draxxis.

The NPC that we’d appointed the sort of de facto general (Petram, a retired general for the army of one of the human kingdoms) told us to try and find a way in ourselves, and they would keep the bulk of the Queen’s forces distracted.

We make our way over the outer wall, fight off the gargoyles that noticed us get in, and made our way to a secret passage that Valliana had shown us. The Queen apparently hadn’t posted any guards at the passage, and we were able to make our way to the throne room with only a few brief encounters with royal guards.

By the time we had gotten there, the sun had been eclipsed by the moon and we could already hear the screaming. We opened the door as she was taking the last gulps of Valliana’s blood - the brothers already lay dead at the foot of the throne.

She underwent a violent transformation, and immediately forced half of the party to kneel before her (she charmed them and gave the command to kneel). Our cleric, Volmund the dwarf, was kept busy running around the room un-charming everyone, and Tarx did his best to help with his countercharm, but... her save DC was really high and we were not rolling well.

In the end, we had all been charmed and forced to kneel before her. She had been casting spells left and right, I had been casting spells, and because of the instability, we were beginning to notice reality shift and obscure. Of course, as we’re all powerless and unable to do anything, she began channeling a spell that was pretty much either going to kill everyone in the room except her, or tear through the fabric of reality. On the bright side, we all got to roll another save before her next turn, and then we’d be able to do something!

Except that we all failed. You know how people are usually like “Ugh I don’t want another elf in my party”? Make sure at least one of you plays a damn elf.

It got to my turn (right before hers) and I made my roll. Of course, I also failed. I then asked my DM if being charmed and forced to kneel also meant that I was unable to speak. He gave me a look, thought about it, and gave a smirk. “Sure, you guys are able to speak while you’re charmed - she didn’t say “Kneel and be silent,” so I’ll allow it.”

When we last defeated Victus, the one item that we were able to loot from him was this beautifully crafted ring. Everyone in the party already had a ring of some kind, so Tarx gave it to me as a sort of promise ring. However, our DM said that as I put it on, I felt this overwhelming magical energy flow through me (being that I was the only real magic-user in the party, Anastasia was sensitive to these things). I spent some time identifying the ring and learned that it was an innert Ring of Wishes! Of course, no charges on it so it was really just a fancy ring at that point. Everyone else had already forgotten about it, but I was texting the DM under the table and asking questions about the implications of having the ring near such a huge source of power/disruption. He said that it might (on a very, very lucky percentile roll) restore one of the charges to the ring.

I whispered into the ring, and said “If you can hear me... I wish for a way to survive long enough to fix everything Queen Anisterian has done.”

The DM raised his eyebrows, and rolled a percentile.

He laughed.

Hysterically.

Once he composed himself again, he said “Your wish... Has been granted.”

Everyone else at the table was just so confused and excited and panicked all of the sudden, and then, since Queen Anisterian had completed her round of channeling uninterrupted, was able to basically cast a spell that would drain all of our life forces until fell over as dried, dusty husks.

Before casting, the DM rolled a percentile (as he had been doing any time magic was used during the fight).

He laughed again.

“You all feel this horrible sensation as your blood, your life force, your very souls, are drained from your body. The pain is absolutely agonizing, and lasts for what feels like eternity in that instant. And then, as Queen Anisterian is laughing maniacally and relishing her new power, her hand suddenly flashes with a blinding light.”

He then turns to me specifically.

DM: “When you wake up, you don’t know where you are. As far as you can see all around you are nothing but distant stars and nebulae.”

Me: “Wait... What happened to everyone?”

DM: “The entire world blinked out of existence. You, however, have been granted immortality - and immunity - by your wish. You’re out in open space, but the lack of oxygen, the temperature... It doesn’t bother you, you actually feel fine.”

Basically, our DM had intended that a roll of 10 or lower on a percentile would cause reality to collapse on itself, but only enough to affect our world to different extents. Rolling a 10, for example, meant Castle Draxxis would blink out of existence.

He rolled a 1.

When he rolled for my ring, he rolled a 100.

We all kind of sat there basking in the sheer improbability of rolling a 100 and then a 1 right after (I think it’s a 1/10,000 chance? I’m an artist who likes space, not a mathematician). Then as the realization of what had happened settled into us, I had so many questions that I barely knew where to start. “Am I near where the planet was? Was I shot away from the blinkpoint, or was I teleported somewhere?”

He told us that I had basically been knocked out cold by the sudden magical reverberation (again, magic-sensitive) and fell adrift into space. Anastasia was able to identify where some of the planets were - the moon was not caught in the blast, but there was a massive chuck taken out of the side where the blinkpoint hit it and it was just floating adrift around the sun. From that, we were able to determine how long it had been (”Can I please roll an Intelligence check to figure out how long it’s been since the planets were aligned?” “Hm... Actually no, you just know how long it’s been based on their positions.”). Figured out that I’d been out cold for a week.

Anastasia panicked at first, frantically trying to get the ring to work again - but you know, it only regained the one charge. It’s innert. She cried for her friends and for everyone on her world. She cried for hours, knowing that she could have made a better wish. Knowing that her self preservation came at the cost of literally everything.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a glimmer. At first she thought it was a star, but realized it wasn’t one she recognized. She cast Fly on herself (can’t exactly swim through space) and made her way over, and as she approached, she found what looked to be some sort of crack in reality.

It didn’t take long for everyone to realize that this was the blinkpoint, and even looking at it made her feel like she was being electrocuted with magical energy. She decided that, being immortal, maybe touching it might do something? Who knows at this point, right? Even if it killed her or unmade her altogether, at least she wouldn’t be immortal and stuck with the guilt for the rest of eternity.

She reached out, and her hand connected with the fissure... And it pulled her in. She couldn’t see anything around her, being locked in an inescapable abyss. But that painful sensation that came from the blinkpoint had... faded. It was a dull hum in her mind now. She had the idea to cast Detect Magic, and the DM described the scene.

“You cast Detect Magic, and as you do, your eyes adjust to the scene around you, where you see all around you this intricate, perfectly woven latticework of microscopic threads. They cross in every conceivable direction, glowing in an impossibly numerous array of colors. This... is the Weave.”

By passing through the blinkpoint, I had basically transcended, and was able to perceive magic itself. And then, a voice came to me that caused every thread to resonate and vibrate.

???: “I see that you have found your way to that which lies between. A space betwixt realities.”

Anastasia: “Yes... I... Who are you? Can you help me?”

???: “I do not have a name. I am simply the Weaver of Magic.”

After a brief discussion about the implications of weaving space, time, and magic to bind everything together, the Weaver had a proposition.

Weaver: “You see, Anastasia... I also require assistance. Reality needs stability within the Weave, but I am unable to exist anywhere except within the Weave. I cannot leave this place. I could grant you the power to reverse the mistakes of the past, the power to right the wrongs of this Anisterian. But I would request that you act as the eternal guardian and curator of magic throughout the Planes.”

Anastasia: “Oh, I... I don’t know if I would know how to do that. You wield tremendous power, and even the gods find magic to be a fickle thing! Where would I even begin?”

Weaver: “Your gods find magic to be fickle because they have not embraced the Weave. You, however, may be granted this power freely.”

Anastasia: “You mean... You mean I could become a goddess?”

Weaver: “I do not fully understand these “gods,” but in your terms, yes. You would become Goddess of Reality.”

Anastasia: “That’s... more responsibility than I’ve ever known possible... But I can save my friends this way?”

Weaver: “I will allow you to undo the damage to the Weave. This will revert your reality to the moment before the threads were torn, and allow you to change the outcome of everything that had happened.”

Anastasia had to think long and hard about it. She would spend the remainder of her existence - the remainder of time - as a goddess, protecting and weaving magic throughout all of the Planes. That, of course, was nothing compared to the guilt of being the only survivor of her entire world.

She accepted the agreement, and the transformation began. Threads from the Weave wrapped themselves around her, covering her entire body until she was wrapped in pure magic. When she could see again, she was back out in space, adrift near the fissure. She looked at her hands instinctively, and noticed that her skin was glassy-smooth. Looking at her hands, her robes, her hair, she saw the same glass-like smoothness, but was able to look into herself and see the deepest parts of the cosmos within herself.

She had been transformed into the Goddess of Reality.

She looked to the fracture and began to focus. In the past, she was able to occasionally channel raw magic into different objects in order to activate them. She used the same process, but rather than the magic needing to be coaxed out of her, it erupted from her hands and shot into the fissure.

The fracture slowly crumbled into itself, and soon showed the entire world exploding in reverse. The moon lined back up with where it was, the planets unwound their orbits to realign, the planet reformed itself around her.

Within moments, she was floating just above the floor of the throne room right where she was, her hands raised at Queen Anisterian’s channeling hand. She held a hand out to Anisterian, and clenched her fist. Every thread of magic that had been woven into her unraveled and spun itself into Anastasia’s palm, and she was able to guide the threads back to the slain children of the queen. They would slowly reawaken and rise, and Queen Anisterian’s power was rendered innert.

Our party was able to stand up, and we apprehended the Queen and were able to throw her into the dungeons with no trouble. She was no longer capable of using magic in any form, so leaving her down there would pose no threats.

Alright, roll credits - that was the end of our campaign!

From then on, Anastasia changed her name to Cosmostasia, and wandered the Planes curating all of the torn threads of the Weave, ensuring that magic wasn’t being abused in a way that damaged it, etc.

Yes, Cosmostasia continued to visit her homeworld and help those in need, but given that she was a goddess and had some very pressing responsibilities, she couldn’t be there as consistently as our other heroes. Plus, when she was home, she was trying to take time off and be with her beloved Tarx!

If you made it this far, thank you for reading the entire thing!! I’ve always wanted to illustrate it and make a comic or something, but... that’s a project for another time lol. But now you have some context behind Cosmostasia!! :)

[newstfionline]

Sunday, March 14, 2021

Warp-speed spending and other surreal stats of COVID times (AP) The U.S. effort in World War II was off the charts. Battles spread over three continents and four years, 16 million served in uniform and the government shoved levers of the economy full force into defeating Nazi Germany and imperial Japan. All of that was cheaper for American taxpayers than this pandemic. The $1,400 federal payments going into millions of people’s bank accounts are but one slice of a nearly $2 trillion relief package made law this past week. With that, the United States has spent or committed to spend nearly $6 trillion to crush the coronavirus, recover economically and take a bite out of child poverty. Set in motion over one year, that’s warp-speed spending in a capital known for gridlock, ugly argument and now an episode of violent insurrection. Once, the attack on Pearl Harbor was the modern marker for national trauma. About 2,400 Americans died in the assault on the naval base in Hawaii that drew the United States into the Pacific war. The nearly 3,000 dead from the terrorist attacks Sept. 11, 2001, became the new point of comparison as the ravages of COVID-19 grew. The U.S. reached a total of 3,000 COVID-19 deaths even before March 2020 was out. By December, the country was experiencing the toll of 9/11 day after day after day. With deaths now moderating—so that a 9/11 toll comes cumulatively every few days—the U.S. death toll now has surpassed 530,000, exceeding U.S. combat deaths of all of the last century’s wars.

The Fighter Jet That’s Too Pricey to Fail (NYT) Last week, the new head of the House Armed Services Committee, Representative Adam Smith, said in an interview that the F-35 fighter jet was a “rathole” draining money. He said the Pentagon should consider whether to “cut its losses.” That promptly set off another round of groaning about the most expensive weapon system ever built, and questions about whether it should—or could—be scrapped. Conceived in the 1990s as a sort of Swiss army knife of fighter jets, the F-35 Joint Strike Fighter was meant to come as a conventional fighter for the Air Force, as a carrier-based fighter for the Navy and as a vertical-landing version for the Marines. The problems, and there were lots of them, set in early. All three versions of the plane ended up at least three years behind schedule, and sharing less than a quarter of their parts instead of the anticipated 70 percent. Many of those already built need updates; hundreds of defects are still being corrected; the jet is so expensive to maintain that it costs around $36,000 per hour to fly (compared to $22,000 for an older F-16). At the current rate, it will cost taxpayers more than $1 trillion over its 60-year life span. So, kill the monster and start looking for alternatives? Or declare it too big to fail and make the best of it? Last month, the Air Force chief of staff, Gen. Charles Brown Jr., gave his answer when he said that the F-35 should become the Ferrari of the fleet: “You only drive it on Sundays.”

Colorado and Wyoming brace for severe snowstorm and potential blizzard conditions this weekend (Washington Post) A major winter storm is set to unload massive amounts of snow, the most in years in some areas, in parts of Colorado, Wyoming and western Nebraska this weekend into early next week. Before the wintry onslaught is over, some locations in the Colorado foothills and eastern Rockies might end up with as much as four feet. Winds are also going to howl, bringing the potential for blizzard conditions across parts of the region. Gusts of 35 to 50 mph or higher will cause blowing and drifting snow, as well as compromised visibility and whiteout conditions. Winter storm warnings are in effect in Denver, Boulder and Fort Collins where the National Weather Service predicts 12 to 24 inches of snow. In Cheyenne, Wyo., also under a winter storm warning, 22 to 34 inches of snow is forecast.

Stay or go? Fence, Guard pose Capitol security questions (AP) Nobody, it seems, wants to keep the security fence around the U.S. Capitol anymore—except the police who fought off the horrific attack on Jan. 6. Lawmakers call the razor-topped fencing “ghastly,” too militarized and, with the armed National Guard troops still stationed at the Capitol since a pro-Trump mob laid siege, not at all representative of the world’s leading icon of democracy. “All you have to do is to see the fencing around the Capitol to be shocked,” Del. Eleanor Holmes Norton, D-D.C., said in an interview Friday. How to protect lawmakers, while keeping the bucolic Capitol grounds open to visitors has emerged as one of the more daunting, wrenching questions from deadly riot. With warnings of another attack in early March by pro-Trump militants and threats on lawmakers that have nearly doubled since the start of 2021, the police, the Pentagon and lawmakers themselves are wrestling with how best to secure what has been a sprawling campus mostly open to visiting tourists and neighborhood dog walkers alike.

Bolivia arrests ex-leader in crackdown on opposition (AP) The conservative interim president who led Bolivia for a year was arrested Saturday as officials of the restored leftist government pursue those involved in the 2019 ouster of socialist leader Evo Morales, which they regard as a coup, and the administration that followed. Jeanine Áñez was detained in the early morning in her hometown of Trinidad and was flown to the capital, La Paz. She had earlier warned that officials were searching for her, terming it “abuse and persecution” in Twitter posts. The arrest of Áñez and warrants against numerous other former officials further worsened political tensions in a South American country already torn by a cascade of perceived wrongs suffered by both sides. Those include complaints that Morales had grown more authoritarian with nearly 13 years in office, that he illegally ran for a fourth reelection and then allegedly rigged the outcome, that right-wing forces led violent protests that prompted security forces to push him into resigning and then cracked down on his followers, who themselves protested the alleged coup. Dozens of people were killed in a series of demonstrations against and then for Morales.

British police officer charged with murder in missing woman’s kidnapping and killing (Washington Post) A British police officer was charged late Friday in the kidnapping and killing of Sarah Everard, whose disappearance and death has sent shock waves through the nation. Wayne Couzens, 48, who previously had posts at Downing Street and the Palace of Westminster, was charged with the kidnap and murder of Everard, a 33-year-old marketing executive. She was last seen at 9:30 p.m. on March 3, walking home from a friend’s house in south London. Her disappearance sparked a national outcry in Britain over the harassment and abuse of women. The case has struck a chord with women across the country, with many demanding change. In the days after Everard’s disappearance, women have taken to social media to share their own experiences and fears about their personal safety and walking alone. Caitlin Moran, an author and journalist, tweeted: “Being a woman: my “outside” day finishes at sundown. If I haven’t taken the dog for a walk/jogged by then, I can’t.” Writing in the Guardian, columnist Gaby Hinsliff said: “When she went missing, any woman who has ever walked home alone at night felt that grim, instinctive sense of recognition. Footsteps on a dark street. Keys gripped between your fingers.”

Car bomb kills at least 7, injures 53 in Afghan Herat province (Reuters) A powerful car bomb near a police station on Friday night killed at least seven people and wounded more than 50 others in Afghanistan’s western Herat province, officials said. Herat Governor Sayed Abdul Wahid Qatali said that at least 53 people, including civilians and security forces, were hurt when a van packed with explosives went off in a crowded part of the city in the evening.

4 killed as Myanmar forces continue crackdown on protesters (AP) Security forces in Myanmar on Saturday again met protests against last month’s military takeover with lethal force, killing at least four people by shooting live ammunition at demonstrators. Three deaths were reported in Mandalay, the country’s second-biggest city, and one in Pyay, a town in south-central Myanmar. There were multiple reports on social media of the deaths, along with photos of dead and wounded people in both locations. The independent U.N. human rights expert for Myanmar, Tom Andrews, said Thursday that “credible reports” indicated security forces in the Southeast Asian nation had so far killed at least 70 people, and cited growing evidence of crimes against humanity since the military ousted the elected government of Aung San Suu Kyi.

For Syrians, a decade of displacement with no end in sight (AP) Mohammed Zakaria has lived in a plastic tent in eastern Lebanon’s Bekaa Valley for almost as long as war has raged in his native Syria. He and his family fled bombings in 2012, thinking it would be a short, temporary stay. His hometown of Homs was under siege, and subject to a ferocious Syrian military campaign. He didn’t even bring his ID with him. Almost 10 years later, the family still hasn’t gone back. The 53-year-old Zakaria is among millions of Syrians unlikely to return in the foreseeable future, even as they face deteriorating living conditions abroad. On top of his displacement, Zakaria now struggles to survive Lebanon’s financial meltdown and social implosion. Nearly half a million people have been killed, and about 12,000 children have died or were injured in the conflict in the past decade, according to the U.N. children’s agency, UNICEF. The conflict also resulted in the largest displacement crisis since World War II. The Norwegian Refugee Council this week said that since the war began in 2011, an estimated 2.4 million people were displaced every year in and outside Syria. Hundreds of thousands of Syrians face continued displacement with each year that the conflict continues and economic conditions deteriorate.

Number of missing Nigerian students raised to 39 after armed raid (Reuters) Nine more students than originally thought are missing after gunmen stormed a forestry college in northwest Nigeria earlier this week, a government official in Nigeria’s Kaduna state said on Saturday. The revision brings the total number of missing students to 39 following Thursday’s nighttime raid on the Federal College of Forestry Mechanization, the fourth mass school abduction in northern Nigeria since December. Kaduna city is the capital of Kaduna state, part of a region where attacks by gangs of armed men, referred to as bandits, have festered for years. Military and police attempts to tackle the gangs have had little success, while many worry that state authorities are making the situation worse by letting kidnappers go unpunished, paying them off or providing incentives.