#at least we could long rest after. at fucking least so we got spell slots back and i have 8hp from my one hit dice i could roll

[gidianthe]

*looking for a safe place to long rest even though the dm has homebrewed resting so we no longer regain hp on long rests*

dm: yeah this room looks like it might be a nice place to stay :)

*one fight later where one person was full killed and two others were downed*

dm: haha yeah those monsters are famous for tpking parties in death house

[grailfinders]

Grailfinders #327: Izumo no Okuni

merry nobumas, everyone! sadly, this event doesn’t have any new nobus, but at least it gives us cool builds like Izumo no Okuni! first we make the puppet with some Creation Bard levels, then we fuck demons up with the puppet with some Watcher Paladin levels.

check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

next up: our good personal friend Ranmaru

EDIT: huh, okay, Izumo does use her own sword. okay then, ignore most of the negatives then. sorry about that, this is one of the perils of trying to get stuff out the second the story drops

Ancestry & Background

Okuni is a Human, but she also has a puppet- to make that, we’ll start by giving her a Mark of Making, giving her +2 Intelligence and +1 Charisma. this gives her an Artisan’s Intuition for an additional d4 added to all arcana checks and anything involving artisan’s tools, which covers both halves of your expertise! we also grab a free proficiency with woodworking tools so you can get started on building your puppet.

while you’re working, you already start off as a Spellsmith, giving you the Mending cantrip for free redos and you can cast Magic Weapon once a day, but it’s both spell-slot- and concentration-free. speaking of spells, your Spells of the Mark add some options to your spell lists- the full list of spells you can use is in the character sheet, but if you see us take a spell that isn’t on the bard list, that’s why.

you’re a shrine maiden, that’s an Acolyte, so you have proficiency in Insight and Religion as well.

Ability Scores

Charisma is your highest score, as you could probably guess from being a bard. you dance, you hit people with puppets, both of those are charisma. somehow. after that, Dexterity. it’s kind of weird dexterity doesn’t affect dancing, now that I think about it, but you’re a caster so you don’t wear plate mail. that being said we do need to make Strength higher than I’d like, but you’ll have to carry your puppet around most of the time, so it’s kind of a workout, I guess. Constitution is above average because it would suck to die before you even get a chance to use the puppet at all, so you’ll have to live for five levels without it. that means your Wisdom is lower than I’d like and we have to dump Intelligence pretty harshly. it’s far from ideal, but we only need those for skills and saves. thankfully, being a bard and a paladin both help a lot towards making up for these shortfalls, eventually.

Class Levels

1. Bard 1: starting off as a bard gives you proficiency in Dexterity, and Charisma saves, as well as three skills off the bard skill list, a.k.a. the entire skill list. we’ll use Performance to puppet our boy around, with Nature and Arcana to build him in the first place. you’ve got five levels, best of luck.

while you’re whittling, we can also bring up your Bardic Inspiration- you’ve got a couple d6s you can throw at a friend as a bonus action, and then they can use ‘em to improve an attack roll, save, or skill check in the next minute. you get those back on long rests.

also on the same time frame are your spell slots, which you use to cast Spells. Okuni’s a caster, so you can be a bit more liberal with her spell list than you are with most characters- most of the spells on the character sheet are my personal recommendations, or just ones I thought would be useful. if they’re vital for the build, I’ll bring them up here as they’re added. there aren’t any of those this level, but I do recommend picking up something like Identify- Okuni’s bio states multiple times how hip and with it she is, so she knows what’s going on a lot of the time.

2. Bard 2: second level bards are Jacks of all Trades, adding half their proficiency to any skill check they make that doesn’t add it, including your initiative check! you also learn a Song of Rest, adding a d6 to the healing your party does over short rests. standard issue, we’ve all seen it by now.

also, your bardic inspiration becomes Magical Inspiration, so now someone holding onto it can add their d6 to the damage or healing of a spell!

3. Bard 3: but I know that’s not enough uses for your inspiration, right? thankfully creation bards have another addition to it, the Mote of Potential. now when your allies use their inspiration on one of the three original effects, they get a bonus to boot! on a check, they can roll their inspiration twice and pick the higher number. on an attack roll, the die also deals whatever it rolled as damage to nearby enemies, and on a save they gain their roll in temporary hp! this practically turns your inspiration into a spell in its own right!

making your puppet also got… slightly easier, as you can now put on a Performance of Creation, creating any medium or smaller non-magical item as an action, with the only other limitation being your imagination, and your wallet. you can only create items with this feature that are worth 20 times your bard level or less- even a normal-sized puppet is worth 100g, so this hasn’t saved us too much time. it also only lasts a few hours, so you’ll still have to find a more permanent solution anyways. still, while it’s not a cure-all for our lack of puppetry, it does have a million and one uses besides! this recharges on long rests, or you can use a second level spell slot to use it again- just know that you can only have one summoned item at a time.

speaking of second level spells, Borrowed Knowledge is a great pick for Okuni, giving her proficiency in a skill of your choice for an hour, concentration free. again, she’s always in the know of the latest fads, so now you can make sure that’s true!

you also get expertise in two skills, doubling your proficiency bonus in Arcana and Performance checks. she’s good at dancing, that much is obvious- otherwise she wouldn’t be in this game.

4. Bard 4: fourth level bards get their first Ability Score Improvement, so improve that Charisma score for stronger spells and more inspiration. dancing better is a nice bonus.

if you’re really jonesing for a puppet by now, you can use something like Phantasmal Force to at least plant the idea of a puppet in someone’s head and have it hurt them that way. honestly sounds terrifying to me, even scarier than a real puppet beating me up.

5. Bard 5: fifth level bards have d8s for their inspiration now, as well as become a Font of Inspiration, recharging all spent inspiration uses on short rests as well as long ones! you also get third level spells now like Dispel Magic. demons like using magic, so you’d best spoil their fun.

6. Bard 6: sixth level bards get the Countercharm ability, and for once it’s good for the build. a lot of demons charm or frighten people, so now you can spend your action to give all your allies nearby advantage on saves against those effects. it only works for a round each time, so you’d have to spend each turn keeping the effect up- still, if you’re fighting something like Shuten-Douji, it’s a good idea to have on hand.

if you’d like to use your countercharm while also keeping the fight going, then good news! your puppet drought is over, and your cuppet runneth over thanks to an Animating Performance. as an action you can animate a large or smaller object and turn it into a Dancing Object for the next hour. you then have to use your bonus action each turn to control the puppet, but you can also give out inspiration at the same time.

you can bring out the puppet once a day, or by spending a third-level or higher spell slot.

7. Bard 7: seventh level bards get fourth level spells like Fabricate, letting you spend ten minutes to turn any kind of raw materials into processed goods- for example, a log into part of a puppet, perhaps. you can create a large or smaller object if you have enough material, though using metal shrinks down the possible puppetude to medium size. also, you need proficiency with the sorts of tools you’d have to use to make an item normally in order to make it with this spell, hence our focus on grabbing woodworking proficiency earlier and smithing later.

so yeah, during your next downtime, puppetry is just a spell away!

8. Bard 8: eighth level bards get another ASI, and we’re grabbing the Skilled feat for more proficiencies. you get the proficiency with Smith’s Tools I mentioned a second ago, as well as proficiency with Acrobatics in case your DM thinks that dexterity and dancing thing is as weird as I do, and History. you are history, after all.

9. Bard 9: at ninth level your song of rest grows to a d8, but more importantly you get fifth level spells. if you’re in a pinch, you can use Animate Objects instead of your usual puppetry to give your friend some backup- you can animate up to ten small objects, with bigger sizes doubling how many “objects” they count as for each size larger they are. that being said, they also use your bonus action to control, so trying to use both at once isn’t always the greatest idea. still, they make a good distraction if you need time to drag your bigger puppet out of the fight.

10. Bard 10: tenth level bards have a bigger inspiration die again, and you get another round of Expertise, this time doubling down on Religion and Nature. also, you get Magical Secrets- two spells from any spell list in the game. Legend Lore is a must for any bard, giving you the lowdown on whatever famous person or thing you’re faced with so you can dance appropriately. on the other hand Circle of Power is a must-have for combat, creating an aura around you that lasts up to ten minutes with concentration- during that time, friendly creatures (including you) have advantage on all saves against magical effects- furthermore, succeeding on that save prevents all damage instead of half if it’s that kind of save. demons like fireballs, puppets don’t. simple stuff.

11. Bard 11: with our last level of bard you get sixth level spell slots for stuff like True Seeing to see through demonic illusions and the like. though if I’m being honest we haven’t gotten too specialized yet- let’s fix that.

12. Paladin 1: moving over to paladin gives you a Divine Sense- spend an action up to five times a day to sense celestials, fiends, and undead within 60’ of you. you know the type and location, but not their identity. being able to sense demons feels pretty important for.. y’know, a demon hunter.

you can also Lay on Hands to heal an ally, you have a pool that scales with your level and it refills every long rest. worth noting, this does not work on constructs, so you’ll have to patch up your puppet the old-fashioned way.

13. Paladin 2: second level paladins get a Fighting Style, and with your Defense you get a +1 bonus to all types of armor. I know you don’t wear a lot, but I’d still call your first ascension fit light armor at minimum. also, since you’re attacking via puppet they aren’t “your” attacks, so none of them count for fighting styles.

they also don’t count for Divine Smites, which is problematic, but we’ll find a workaround soon enough. if you do end up using them though, you spend a spell slot when you hit something with a melee attack, dealing radiant damage that scales based on the slot’s level. also it deals extra damage against fiends, which is a nice bonus for a demon hunter.

speaking of spell slots you get another set of spells from being a paladin, but you’ll have to check the multiclassing rules for what slots you have when. for now you can perform Ceremonies and Detect Evil and Good, but you can swap around paladin spells every long rest, so don’t sweat over getting the perfect setup right away.

14. Paladin 3: at third level you devote yourself to defeating demons and other extraplanar monsters as a Watcher, giving you two kinds of Channel Divinity that you can use once per short rest. your Watcher’s Will gives most of your party advantage on intelligence, wisdom, and charisma saves for a minute, or you can Abjure the Extraplanar to send aberrations, celestials, elementals, fey, and fiends nearby running for up to a minute if they fail a wisdom save.

you also gain access to a pool of permanently prepared performances, like Alarm and Detect Magic. finally, your Divine Health makes you immune to disease.

15. Paladin 4: a fourth level paladin gets their own Ability Score Improvement, so power up your Charisma for stronger spells, channeled divinity, and a stronger puppet as well.

16. Paladin 5: fifth level paladins get an Extra Attack, but that only applies to you, not your puppet. on the plus side, you also get second level spells! now you can cast Magic Weapon more than once a day for your puppet. you can also See Invisibility to detect hidden demons, and use Moonbeam to expose them or other shapechangers.

17. Paladin 6: as a sixth level paladin you emit an Aura of Protection, adding your hefty charisma modifier to every save you make, as well as the saves of nearby friends. up until now you had a +0 in wisdom saves, so that’ll really come in handy!

18. Paladin 7: seventh level watchers also get the Aura of the Sentinel, adding your proficiency bonus to your and nearby allies’ initiative rolls. this technically isn’t adding the proficiency directly, so you get a 1.5x bonus!

19. Paladin 8: eighth level paladins get one last ASI, so let’s bump up your Dexterity so you’ll get hit less often, dance better, and be better with a dagger in case of emergencies.

20. Paladin 9: we finish our build by gaining access to third level paladin spells, including your subclass specialties, Counterspell and Nondetection. more importantly, you gain access to the spell Crusader’s Mantle, finally giving your puppet the chance to deal radiant damage. and so can everyone else within thirty feet of you, for that matter!

Pros & Cons

Pros:

while you don’t get counterspell until very late in the game, you’re great at using it- and dispel magic to boot. both spells use ability checks to counter magical effects, and wouldn’t you know it, bards are great at those! with a maxed out charisma modifier plus half proficiency, you have roughly a 50/50 shot of countering even a ninth level spell while only spending a third level one.

your decent dexterity plus your watcher aura makes you great at hitting first in a fight, and when you add in your puppet’s ability to speed you up and slow down enemies, and you’ll be running circles around them in no time.

while focusing your build so hard on your puppet does create some challenges, it also opens up some great adventuring opportunities. this one’s more a plus for your DM so they don’t have to start power-creeping all the magic loot- instead of getting a +1 sword, maybe you’ll get better metal for your puppet’s armor and raise its AC, or wood that conducts magic better and lets it stay animate for longer, or maybe new puppetry techniques that let your extra attack or divine smites carry over to it. basically, having a physical object you’ll be building up the whole adventure will give you and your dm new avenues to find fun in D&D.

Cons:

that last bit, of course, requires your DM to be flexible, so if you’re playing in adventurer’s league games or just have a new DM that wants to stick to the book, it’s going to cause a problem. by the time you reach level 20 the base stats for your dancing items are woefully outmatched by just about everything you could be facing, so maybe run this idea by your DM before committing to it.

we did what we could to fix up your soft stats, but the hard truth is you still only have 10 intelligence and wisdom. you get an aura of protection, sure, but not until level 17. in the meantime, you risk falling for illusions and mental games from your more otherworldly foes.

your puppet only lasts one hour, so keeping it up and running for longer periods of time will eat through your magic like nothing else. if you burn through every spell slot you have, you can keep him walking for 12 hours a day, which is nice, but that leaves you with almost no magic for anything else. basically, if you’re traveling a lot, invest in a cart. your 13 strength ass is not dragging him around the whole continent.

[absolutepokemontrash]

The Demon Bros Play DND!

Who’s ready for some Stupid Headcanons?

So, the Satanic Panic of the 1980s claimed that the tabletop RPG known as Dungeons and Dragons had the power to turn your children into satanists and devil worshippers. So of course, the brothers have totally played DND after hearing about all the human world nonsense.

Lucifer the Back-up Back-up DM

He’s too busy to play this game dammit, stop inviting him! What do you mean both Satan and Simeon can’t DM the one-shot? Ugh... fine.

Despite all his UUUUUUUUGGGGHHH, Lucifer is a damn good storyteller, prepare to be immersed as hell.

Also, sorry guys, he’s a rule whore. If something’s against the rules, YOU AREN’T DOING IT.

He’s also a complete sadist who will randomly get everyone to roll perception checks for NO REASON.

Lucifer has definitely stood up and slammed his hands on the table while giving a description for extra effect, Mammon screamed and nearly fell out of his seat which REALLY ruined the mood.

“Everyone, we’re rescheduling, I’m too busy.”

He’s been a player a few times, and he’s NOT good at it. All his characters end up being really generic and boring. He’s better at being the world and everything in it, not the dummy wandering around it.

Human/fighter lookin’ motherfucker

In conclusion, he’s a good DM, but he’s probably too busy to play.

Over-Powered Self Insert (Mammon)

This game is for nerds! He’s not playin’, Levi!

Fine, his character is great and amazin’ and is also him. MC! What do these numbers mean-

Mammon’s the type of player to make his character a self insert and not take it too seriously, then get really REALLY attached as the campaign progresses.

He’s the type not to make a backstory for his character either, so go wild DM MCs!

He also both purposefully and accidentally metagames a whole bunch. Like dude, YOU know this, YOUR CHARACTER DOES NOT.

Shit he forgot his dice, can he borrow some?

“Okay MC, that’s five points of piercing damage.” “I RUN OVER AND HEAL THEM! I’LL SAVE YA MC!”

Mammon goes out of his way to save MC’s character long before it would make sense in-character to do so.

“Well, as your first man it’s my duty to save your character! You’ll probably be a blubberin’ mess if I didn’t...”

He’s not the best role player, but he’s also not the worst at it either. He tends to break character when things get too serious and he doesn’t know what to do.

Notes who? He came in here with one sheet of printer paper and it’s for doodling only.

He and Asmodeus start the tavern brawls. No question about that.

Theft is very common, he’s stealing from everyone, including but not limited to: the party, the royal guards, the dead enemies, the giant fuck-you dragon that Satan dropped in there to deter Mammon from stealing...

“I’m gonna steal that crown from the dragon.” “Roll stealth.” “Nat 20 BITCHES.” “Fuck you.”

If his character dies, may the Demon King have mercy on his greedy little soul because he’s going to mope about it for a damn long time.

Over-Powered Self Insert Again (Leviathan)

His character totally isn’t a self insert, shut up! He just looks and acts like an idealized version of himself!

He’s the one with twenty pages of character info and backstory AND the amazing commissioned art.

Levi has about 40 sets of expensive blue dice that he claims gives him the best rolls but an average session with him usually leads to roughly 10 crit fails.

While his luck with dice isn’t that good, he’s the player who will get as much out of their turn as possible, AKA break out the calculators and notes we’re doing some math.

His turn goes on for at least ten minutes because of all the shit he’s doing. When you finally think it’s over he goes “I still have my movement!”

Takes notes like a madman, every bit of lore and character info is being written down, meaning it’s a headache for everyone involved if there’s a continuity error because Levi WILL point it out.

“So you all head to the east, the great Valley of-” “Hang on, valley? In the second session you said there was a mountainous area to the east.” “Levi, shut up.”

Levi is the self appointed “guys come on let’s get back on track!” player, and whoever’s DMing is grateful to have him.

Levi is kind of the opposite of Mammon in terms of character seriousness, at first he’s taking everything super seriously and then as the campaign goes on he slowly loosens up and has some fun.

Out of curiosity one day he searches up a magical girl DND class and he’s ALL OVER IT. PLEASE LET HIM BE A MAGICAL GIRL NEXT CAMPAIGN-

Damn good at roleplaying, he’s carrying the entire in-character discussion until everyone else gets into it.

The Done With Your Bullshit DM (Satan)

So, this is the game that’s supposedly summoning him all the time despite the fact that he hadn’t been up to the human world since the 50s... what the fuck is everyone on up there?

It was the 80s, probably a lot of drugs.

When Satan DMs, you can only break the rules if it enhances the story... or if it fucks with Lucifer’s really boring character.

He will fudge dice rolls every once and a while, he also gets very attached to the characters everyone has made so he doesn’t want to perma-kill any of them unless they roll a DND quadruple natural 1 sin or something.

As attached as he gets, he isn’t above completely raging, killing everyone’s characters, and ending the session if everyone’s being annoying.

Don’t worry, your characters will be safe and sound next session once everything calms down... just don’t mention how Satan burned your character sheet right in front of you. It’s your fault if you didn’t make a second copy of your character sheet!

He’s pretty decent when it comes to improv when a player stumbles into something he didn’t plan out, but that’s not going to stop him from getting a little annoyed.

Though, if you somehow manage to get to the big bad too soon... yeah sorry, he’s got a way more dramatic fight scene planned, your player’s getting conveniently blasted out of there.

As a player, Satan is pretty decent at the game overall, but he tends to be a little aggressive if there’s an overarching mystery to be solved.

He needs to understand what’s going on! He doesn’t care if it upends the plot or it’s too early to find out! He needs to know!

His character is actually distinct and different from himself, Satan thinks it’s more interesting that way. All the books he’s read have made him a pretty awesome role player!

Satan’s notebook both as a DM and a player is filled to the brim, no detail is too insignificant to be put on the page.

Satan doesn’t fear dungeon puzzles... dungeon puzzles fear Satan.

“Are you all stupid?! This puzzle is so easy a four year old could solve it!”

I ROLL TO SEDUCE- (Asmodeus)

At first he didn’t want to play, he doesn’t play these kinds of games, sweetie. He’s too pretty.

When he’s finally convinced he puts a decent amount of effort into his character, but leaves the backstory pretty open.

Asmo would probably be the bard... right? No. He’s the warlock with the magic sugar daddy patron, and the warlock patron is spoken to as such.

“Hey baby... how’ve you been? Have I been good~?” “...”

Huh! Who woulda thought that all the bedroom roleplaying would transfer so well to DND!

Simeon is the only DM that doesn’t immediately shut this down, so Asmo will be extra inclined to play if Mr. Nice Shoulders is DMing.

When he gets really into it he buys a bunch of sparkly and very pretty dice, they bring him good luck in every roll!

Asmo has a fictional harem, no question about it. It gets to the point where Satan, Lucifer, and Simeon stop describing NPCs as attractive.

He’s rolling to seduce either way, he’s turned many an antagonist into a lover. To be fair, Asmo’s horniness has gotten everyone out of a lot of jail cells... so they can’t complain.

His notes consist of really random comments about the plot and the other players. It’s also COATED with doodles.

‘Wow, this character is such an asshole, I hope Belphie kills them.’ ‘Shit.’ ‘MC looks so cute when they play their character!!!!!!!! :D’

Poor bab forgets the rules a lot... it’s just too much to remember, okay?! How was he supposed to know that he ran out of spell slots an hour ago?!

Please help him, MC...

*Dice Cronch* (Beel)

Homeboy has been given edible dice, no question. He has also eaten the non-edible dice...

Beel goes to Satan for help with making his character, and he ends up really loving the character! :D

Problem is, he’s not that good at roleplaying... D:

“Can my character eat that person?” “Beel, no- you know what? Let me check what you’d need to roll to do that.”

I’ll save you MC part 2 electric boogaloo, but when it comes to Beel, the entire party is getting protected, no matter how little it makes sense in-character.

While Beel does take notes, a lot of them don’t end up being very important for later events. For example, he’ll jot down stuff about the layout in one room, but it turns out he didn’t take notes for the room that was actually going to be used for a boss fight.

He’s always nice to the NPCs, shame Belphie doesn’t show them the same courtesy.

Murder Hobo (Belphie)

Chaotic evil.

“Belphie, your character’s alignment is neutral good, remember?” “Fuck that, this guy’s annoying me.”

If Belphie doesn’t like an NPC, it’s up to the rest of the party to stop him from derailing the campaign and killing them.

He has space themed dice because cow-man likes space and thought they were pretty.

Notes? NOTES? You think Belphegor, the Avatar of SLOTH, takes notes? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-

He’s drooling all over the notebook... ew. Someone wake him up and tell him it’s his turn.

He puts about 35% effort forth to make a halfway decent character, and approximately 4% effort to actually roleplay.

Belphie sleeps through important plot details so he’s almost always really confused. He’ll turn to MC and ask them to explain what he missed before not learning his lesson and going back to sleep.

Wake him up for the dungeon puzzles though, he and Satan love those.

“Okay, we can’t see what’s in the room because none of the conscious party members have dark vision?” “Nope, what do you do?” “...I shove Mammon inside and shut the door.” “WHAT?!”

Bonus! The Best DM (Simeon)

Our favourite angel has homebrewed this entire campaign and boy fricken howdy are these players going to enjoy it.

Simeon fudges the dice rolls to avoid anything too irreversibly bad happening, buuuuuuut he’s still a total asshole who does the random perception rolls to keep everyone on their toes.

Everyone gets a character arc god dammit, even if they don’t have a backstory, one will be provided!

He’s got a map, he’s got miniatures, he’s got dice and backup dice for the backup dice, he’s got DM notes for days!

Simeon could be a voice actor with the amount of character voices he can do, no one ever gets confused with who’s talking.

Did someone just uncover a massive bit of plot that was meant to be found out later? Good job! No harm done! Simeon’s DM improv is second to none, and the plot will adjust accordingly!

[omg-imagine]

All We Are

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x female!V

Summary: V is jealous after Johnny’s date with Rogue, which leads to an honest discussion about where they both stand.

Words: 1.7k

Warning: spoilers for Blistering Love side job, a little angst

A/N: Requested by an anon. This may be a bit different than what you were expecting, but I was in the feels™. Hope you still enjoy :)

Also, can we please talk about how adorable he looks in the gif?? 

The long drive back to the apartment was silent; the utter stillness in the car weighs heavily on V’s mind. Hands gripping tight on the steering wheel, she tries to ignore this unsettling ache she has, not allowing even an ounce of thought to pass. Though she chalks it off as a side effect of the pseudoendotrizine, this strange, hollow feeling of hers continues to stir deep inside, burning, burning and burning.

And so, she switches on the radio and focuses ahead on the stretch of road winding down the North Oak hills, the approaching lights of Night City glowing brighter against the inky skies. A fresh breeze flows into the open windows, dulling the tension for a moment.

A moment of tranquility that ends far too soon, yet it was a moment V’s at least grateful to have.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Johnny points out, the gruff baritone of his voice piercing the air. “An enny for your thoughts?”

Kicking his feet up on the dashboard, his aviators glint in the silver moonlight, making him appear impossibly more obnoxious than he usually is. He acts as if he’s not aware of the recent thoughts plaguing V’s head, but perhaps that truly was the case. If it were, then she would be surprised— Johnny often invades her mind, poking and prodding at things he shouldn’t be. For a while, she assumes he knows.

“Just tired,” V replies monotonously. Her answer was far from a lie; she really was tired. Exhausted, even. All she wants is to collapse into bed, pass out, and hope that for a few short hours, she can forget about today, about everything.

“Huh,” he breathes out, and V spares him not a single glance. “Pretty sure somethin’ was up. You’ve been actin’ weird since we left the drive-in.”

A chuckle rumbles through her chest. V still finds it unusual for Johnny to act so… concerned. Almost caring, if she had to be honest. She’s noticed a change in him recently, which became apparent after their conversation in the oil fields. He’s a lot softer now, sometimes sweet, both in his own unique way, of course. As if his rough edges were slightly smoothed out with sandpaper, enough that they no longer cut and make her bleed.

V would often catch him staring when he thinks she’s not looking. She also doesn’t fail to miss the small smile that creeps across his face as she talks. And in those passing seconds that lasts an eternity when the relic malfunctions, Johnny was there to offer her comfort. He’d kneel down to the ground while she coils in agony, whispering promises that this will all be over soon. That one way or another, they would get rid of that goddamn chip slotted in V’s head and ultimately save her life.

Life. Life has a funny way of unraveling itself. Fuck, this all seems like a cruel joke the universe is playing on V. Fate is rarely kind to her, a sad fact she’s accepted over the years. Never would she have imagined that after experiencing the pain of heartbreak and loss, she’d find herself falling for someone at the worst possible time.

And that someone is the imprisoned digital ghost of a rockerboy-turned-terrorist studying her from the passenger seat.

But V’s adamant in denying it. Her life was too fucking complicated for this right now.

“Are you capable of shutting the fuck up for two seconds?” V bitterly snaps, the hands on the wheel clenching stiffly as her jaw. “You got what you wanted tonight. Finally got your dick wet after fifty years, so leave me the hell alone, would’ya?!”

She doesn’t mean to act on her muted anger, but it manages to get the best of her. V knows why, and because of it, she crumbles. She crumbles like the walls she’s built around herself. Like the facade she’s been hiding behind for the past couple of months. Because underneath the dirt and grime, V was just a poor, tragic soul, more worried about losing the man she couldn’t have than her awaiting death.

“Really think that’s what happened?” Johnny asks, pushing his shades up to his head as he shifts to sit up straight in his seat.

V grits her teeth, eyes remaining locked on the road. She had woken up an hour or two after Johnny took over, finding her lips still warm, still swollen. Her hair was tousled, and she had been stripped off of most of her clothes; the scent of Rogue’s perfume lingering on her skin. She didn’t need him to recount; it was all clear to her what had transpired. It was what she agreed on to make him happy, a date with the Afterlife fixer and whatever it could lead up to.

In the end, V regretted it, not because Johnny used her body to sleep with someone. But because even after the rollercoaster ride, the dog tags, the private concerts, and the heart-to-heart they had at his gravesite, she still wasn’t his. He was too hung up over Rogue, and she couldn’t blame him. Having shared a lengthy history, there was no doubt Johnny wouldn’t snatch up the opportunity to win her back.

But then where does that leave V?

“The fuck is wrong, V? Don’t make me figure it out by myself.”

Biting the edge of her lip, she ignores Johnny’s latest question and contemplates swallowing an omega blocker. She doesn’t even care that he’s threatening to search for the truth without her permission. Choosing not to do so, he keeps pressing on regardless, and V was getting pissed off. When he doesn’t stop, she loses her temper and slams on the brakes, the Porsche coming to a screeching halt on a dead street.

Huffing, V pulls over to the side, shutting the car’s engine as Johnny is left bewildered by her actions. Peace and quiet. She yearns for peace and quiet, and the pills would do the trick in an instant. Her hand reaches for the bottle in her jacket pocket, the pounding of her heart echoing in her ears. Popping the cap open, she turns her head to the side, unable to help herself. She sees the tenderness etched in his features, a wordless plea shining in his dark eyes.

“V… Tell me.”

V’s gaze slowly falters, her consciousness at war with itself. The storm of anger in her calms, yet she needs to know what her next move is. She’s always been terrible at this sort of thing, dealing with her feelings and shit. Growing up in the streets of Heywood, she’s learned how to shut people out and keep them out. Biggest rule she had imposed on herself was to never, ever fall for a choom, but this time was different. Despite him being a mere figment of her imagination, she feels safe around Johnny, appreciated and content. The two understand each other on a level nobody else has done. They’ve been through literal hell and would only sink further into it to find a way to survive.

A chrome palm comes to rest on V’s cheek, the sensation oddly warm, oddly familiar. Her attention flickers back to Johnny as he strokes her weary face. His touch was delicate, movements careful and controlled. He treats her as if she were porcelain, afraid that his metal hand would cause her to crack. V exhales deeply, relishing the feeling she’s longed from the moment she had broken that dumb rule of hers.

“Go ahead,” she mumbles, giving Johnny consent for him to read her mind. It only takes a second, maybe even less. V half expects his shit-eating grin to make its appearance. She couldn’t forget how cocky he was, and she thought this would certainly rub his ego.

It never comes. Instead, Johnny’s lips turn up into a genuine smile, one softer than the way his black hair falls to frame his face. V swears she was floating; this doesn’t feel all that real to her. It couldn’t be real. But as the first faint slivers of sunlight appear on the horizon, she starts to believe that she isn’t dreaming nor hallucinating. She was still very much wide awake.

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Johnny quips as he leans closer. “You had no reason to be jealous, princess.”

“Why not?”

“Nothin’ happen between Rogue and me,” he clarifies, his fingers pushing back her locks. “Yeah, we made out a little, but I couldn’t go through with it. Wanna know why?”

V nods.

“’Cause I realized that ship sailed a long time ago. We’re too different people now; she’s got her own life, while I got mine sittin’ right here.”

“Johnny…” she murmurs his name as he brings up his other hand to cradle her face. “I wanted to have what you and Rogue had, minus the shitty things you did. But I could feel how much you loved her, how you basically worshipped the ground she walked on. Then I thought, can’t compete with her. She’s a livin’ legend, a badass. Meanwhile, I could be dead the next minute or two, either by this fuckin’ relic or a bullet.”

“Trust me, V, you wouldn’t want that,” Johnny returns, resting his forehead against hers. How could he feel so real? “What you and I have is special. Ain’t felt this way before, not even with Rogue or Alt. Like I said, you’re the fuckin’ closest to me. These feelings you’re afraid of? Shit, I have them too, and I’m fuckin’ terrified. But knowing that you’re here and we both share them, it makes things a lot less scary.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Johnny laughs softly. “Gotta spell it out for ya, huh? Well then, here it goes; V, I love you. I don’t throw that word around randomly, but know that it’s what I feel whenever I think of you.”

V doesn’t waste a second longer. Her lips meet his for a kiss that is gentle and bruising, all at once. They hold one another close, their grasps taut so that the other wouldn’t slip away, not wanting to lose what they’ve gained. Time goes by, ticking in the background as they kiss again and again, but to them, it’s slow, nearly everlasting.

And when it was over, when they finally had to part, they were breathless, panting.

“Love you too, Johnny,” she murmurs into his skin, tone dripping with affection as he hums in response.

Night melds into day, and the city comes back to its fullest life. V kisses Johnny a final time before driving back to the place she calls home, even though she’s found her true one in his heart.

—

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[primrose-path-of-dalliance]

listen. in d&d, when you (general you) get into the type of situation like we just ended with, it is almost never as bad as the first impulse tells you.

the more time you have and the less immediate the fuck-over is, the chances of survival increase exponentially. i’ve been in a session of curse of strahd where half my party went down multiple times, while we were level 6, against a bunch of enemies that interrupted us in the middle of a sorely-needed short rest after already beating a lot of enemies and getting very bloodied prior, and we won and all fucking lived. to then win against a mini-boss after finishing our short rest. d&d is fun like that.

lucien and cree are now alone. cree is bloodied and definitely down some spell slots. the m9, while depleted, still have a ridiculously absurd amount of resources in comparison, as well as numbers. they killed tyffial, zoran, and otis—the tombtakers’ two other melees and their resident non-cleric spellcaster. that’s two less melees to put pressure on the party and no mock-warlock to cast counterspell or any more teleporting spells.

meanwhile the m9 still have the arcane field generators. they’ve got essek with a full tank. and they have three melees—fjord, yasha, and beau—who don’t need access to magic to cause a lot of carnage, with an equally dangerous ranged rogue who can and will abuse the sneak attack mechanics.

plus three more spellcasters who still have some juice, especially caleb with his near-full-up allura’s staff of power. give them some sufficient spread and no matter where lucien puts that cone (which takes a bonus action to move still!), at least one of them will still have an angle of attack on him.

the only spell they should have that could definitely get lucien and cree somewhere the m9 can’t follow? plane shift. which cree only has the single 7th level spell slot for. and they have to accomplish something else first or else they would have plane shifted already.

so long as the m9 catch up, lucien and cree? are fucking done-zos.

[c-is-for-circinate]

Post-ep 123 Reaction

Wow, y’all.  What a ride.

You know, I used to do these after every single CR episode.  Every single one, 2 AM, exhausted and dazed, trying to pour out smart thinky thoughts onto tumblr because I’d be so overflowing with ideas and feelings.

I haven’t so much, lately, and I think part of that is just the fact that I have not been enjoying this Aeor arc.  I’ve hated the traveling along with Lucien in a way that’s made it unpleasant to watch, instead of fun.  (For me, personally!  Many people have been enjoying the tension, and I know the players have been enjoying the tension, and that’s fine!  Yay for them!)  Some of the ancient ruins explorations, too, have gotten just a little too creepy-horror-game for sitting alone in my apartment at one in the morning.  I’ve had less to say.  I’ve wanted to say it less.

And that’s not true tonight.  I can’t remember the last time I got excited about a CR episode like I was tonight.  Oh, there’ve been bits and moments I loved all throughout, there always are, that’s why I’m still watching live even in an arc that hasn’t thrilled me, but I loved the whole episode today, all five and a half hours of it, and god that feels good.

So in celebration, some specific bullet points:

The start of the episode, the discovery of the eyes on Beau and Caleb.  The attempts at science.  The fear, and yet, also, the glimmers of...okay but what if we could use this?  (The moment in the second half, after the Tombtakers ran off, when Beau suggests going into her dreams to ask for help to find them--yes.  Yes.  I still don’t have a lot of interest in evil wizard plotlines when you doom yourself/the world/etc out of curiosity, but the willingness to dive into this terrifying thing that might change you, might break you, because you need what it can give you in order to save a thing you love (your friends, the world) more than you need to be whole or sane or even, necessarily, alive--that is my GOOD SHIT.)     

Guys, I just loved every single minute of that white dragon fight, okay?  It was such a mess.  It was such a mess!  And look, there’s a very specific kind of frenetic energy that the table gets when they find themselves in the middle of a terrifying boss battle, and there’s a different very specific kind of wild ‘this may as well happen’ energy they get when things go terribly wrong entirely due to random chance, and getting the compound of both of those things at once is always glorious.  Nobody is prepared for anything!  Everybody is freaking out!  There’s good reason to suspect that, even if someone dies a bit, everyone’s going to make it out alive, but shit’s wild in the middle there and it’s just such a joy to watch.     

Likewise, I know that final fight was really stressful for both the cast and a lot of viewers, but honestly in so many ways I watched it feeling so much less stressed than the past few weeks have made me?  Yes, it was a horrible, horrible fight, the team in so far over their heads, so low on sleep and spells and any resources at all.  But, god, thank god, at least it was finally over.  There’s no going back to fake amity with the Tombtakers after this, no more playing along and trying to plot treason while the person you’re plotting against is probably hearing every word.  Enemies can be faced!  They can be fought, or fled, or defeated, they can be destroyed or put off for another day, but at least nobody’s pretending any more while trapped in wary uncertain fear of their own houseguests.  At least now it’s done.     

The fucking Iron Shepherds parallels.  Just.  Yes. I have hated the trapped feelings of traveling alongside Lucien and his crew, but the Iron Shepherds parallels are, while stab-me-in-the-heart painful, so fucking good.  The very best moments with Lucien have been the ones that mimic Mollymauk, not even because they bring hope that Molly could come back to us someday (although that’s there, that faint shimmering thread), but because it is always the best, worst, most glorious twist of irony. Molly died trying to save his friends, saving his friends, from the violence of a monster who was so very like him in all the ways he was terrified to know.  Lorenzo and his ragtag group of multiclassed minions, full of loyalty, arrogance, unexpected powers, here to torture and enslave.  The Nein have more power now, a little more negotiated control, they are different--but so much of it is just window-dressing as they’ve been dragged along on this pell-mell journey against their will, told when to walk and when to sleep, headed towards a place they would’ve gone anyway at the behest of someone they really do not give a shit about any more.  It’s so much the same. And the thing that is beautiful, and the thing that I love, the one thing for which I do love Lucien, is just--god, the irony.  The irony!  Because it’s not just that Lucien is like Lorenzo, that Molly turns out to be like the man that killed him after all; it’s not just Lucien, all unknowing, rebuilding old grudges and replaying old scenes without even knowing them.  It’s the fact that Molly’s death is the only reason this can happen in the first place. Mollymauk Tealeaf, murdered and buried, wanting only to protect his teammates from a megalomaniacal killer--sacrificing himself on a hope and a chance that maybe, maybe, he and his friends could all survive, and they’d all be fucked anyway if he didn’t--he died to do it.  And it worked.  They were safe, for a little while, for long enough to rescue Jester and Yasha and Fjord.  Long enough to keep going, to leave part of the world better than they found it, to canonize him in his own way.  Except now here they are again, worse and deeper into the same shit than ever before, and it never could have been like this if Molly had survived.  He derailed Lorenzo long enough to save them then, and created the forward path for the Lucien they’re facing now. It’s terrible.  It’s beautiful.  And that’s some damn good storytelling.

The start of the next episode is going to be very very hard for the Nein!  In so many ways, they’re back exactly where they were episodes ago when they first started traveling with Lucien’s crew to begin with: one threshhold crest in their possession, beat to hell and almost entirely out of spells, exhausted, in desperate need of a long rest, with a probably-pursuing enemy that doesn’t seem inclined to let them have one.  It’s as untenable now as it was then.

They have so much more knowledge now (was it worth it?).  They have their own connection to the city now (will it cost them more than they’ve gained?).  Maybe they have a direction.  Probably they’ve got options.  They’ve got an angel, an owl, a wooly mammoth, and a destination.  Maybe, if they’re very fast and very lucky, maybe, if Caleb uses a teleport spell or they somehow manage to navigate through the snow in their exhaustion with all their luck, they’ll make it to Essek in time to collapse almost safely.  They’ve needed backup so badly.  They’ve needed someone, anyone, to keep them safe for just a few hours so they can plan, and think, and sleep.

And they’ve been so busy trying to play nice, giving in to their fear, trying to avoid the fight they just dove into (with half the team exhausted and half their spell slots gone!), that they haven’t let themselves go and get those things.  And now they’re out the other side of that fight.  Now they know, just a bit more, what Lucien and his team are made of.

Now they can finally, maybe, maybe, start finding ways to take back their own control instead of keeling over with the fear.  I hope.  I hope, I hope, I hope.

[funkylittlebard]

Hey, @too-many-fandoms-no-social-life ! Happy birthday!!  I wrote you a thing, hope you like it!

edit 18/05: Ao3 link

CWs: Geralt’s predictably awful self-esteem, there’s a literal monster at one point, but that’s about it

Geraskier hurt/comfort-ish, getting together shenanigans 

They had been wandering side by side down the trail when it had happened. Geralt had left Roach in the stables of the last town, deciding that the narrow winding path overgrown with thistles and thorns that lead to his next contract would be too difficult for her to navigate. So it had been just the two of them together strolling along in the shade avoiding the bright afternoon sun. It had happened slowly, at first. Geralt had stiffened and froze, nose twitching as if he had smelled something, and Jaskier had been turning to make a joke that was certain to be in poor taste right as the creature descended on them. Geralt had his sword out instantly, pointing it straight ahead of him, ready to strike at any moment. Jaskier, however…

It wasn't as if he hadn't been trained to use a sword as a viscount's son. It was just that he’d never paid all that much attention, and what little he had taken in had been forgotten over the years. He hadn't even told Geralt he knew how to hold a sword, for god's sake. As it was he didn't carry one, just a few daggers he kept hidden about his person. 

He had been reaching for one when it happened. It had taken a moment between seeing Geralt's horrified face, spotting the threat, and making a move for his dagger. His fingertips were just dusting the top of his long dark leather boot when the giant centipede had hit him square in the chest with its mandible, pushing him back down onto the ground. Wide-eyed, he had watched in horror as the thing mounted his chest and hissed at him, rearing its back ready to strike again. Sucking in what he had thought would be his final breath, a panicked thought registered in his head- I never even got to tell Geralt I-

The head had flown off landing centimeters from his own with a sickening squelch and squeal of breath from the creature. Before Jaskier could even think to move, Geralt had been there, piercing yellow eyes boring into him, searching for something. He had let out a ragged breath, and pulled Jaskier up to his chest, holding him close and tight. 

Which brought them up to now, with Jaskier sitting in front of the witcher, watching meticulous fingers tear off strips of bandage to wrap around Jaskier’s battered head. He found himself thoroughly entranced by the way those same hands were able to do something so delicate as efficiently as they had wielded the sword that struck the centipede’s head clean off. Geralt hummed and Jaskier peeked up at him again. The frown on Geralt's face hadn't left since he'd placed Jaskier down from their impromptu hug. It seemed unlikely that Geralt was cross with him, but then again, he had a habit of blaming Jaskier for problems of his own making. An involuntary whimper escaped him at the thought, and suddenly he could feel the weight of Geralt's gaze pinning him in place. 

“Jaskier-” Geralt rushed forward, slotting himself between Jaskier’s knees and staring up at him, concern etched into every pore. Jaskier felt shaking hands settle tentatively on his knees. “Jaskier, what's the matter?” 

They locked eyes and Jaskier’s stomach felt liquid. What if he had died? How could he go on now, knowing that any opportunity to tell Geralt the truth could be snatched from him without even a moment's notice? He felt sick.

“Geralt, I,” he paused, swallowed, and continued. “Geralt I have to tell you something.'' The other man grunted and continued searching for any sign of further injury. Jaskier gasped as his hand slid gently around his face, grazing one of the scratches on his forehead with his fingertips. He stared as Geralt poured a little water on the rag before swiping it across the cut. Jaskier held his breath as Geralt continued his gentle ministrations. He had to tell him, it was too much. 

He drew in a deep breath, let it out, and opened his mouth to try again. “Geralt, I-”

“Don't talk.” Geralt silenced him with his gruff reply as he daubed some tincture on and spread it across his forehead. “Makes it harder for me to tell what I'm doing.”

Something about that seemed… off to Jaskier, Geralt could focus on much more difficult tasks in much more taxing circumstances. Instead of questioning it, he swallowed and waited for Geralt to be done, his left foot tapping a frenetic beat on the forest floor as he waited. 

After what seemed like years, and as Jaskier could feel the very last of his patience fraying, Geralt finally pulled back. He peered at Jaskier, eyes darting about with a look of intense concentration as he assessed his work. He nodded sharply and turned away. 

“You should be fine now.” Jaskier didn't miss the way Geralt's shoulders quaked as he bent down to pack up his supplies. Gathering himself up to his feet, Jaskier padded across the clearing and set his hand down cautiously on Geralt's shoulder. He felt more than heard Geralt suck in a shocked breath. It didn’t matter- he had to do it now, or he might lose the nerve. He tightened his grip ever so slightly on Geralt's shoulder. 

“Geralt. Can I tell you what was bothering me now, please?”  Jaskier was not above pleading- his eyebrows pulled together and a slight pout emerged on his face. Geralt’s fist clenched, and he ducked his head against his chest with a strained sigh. Although he seemed angry, Jaskier had gotten very good at reading Geralt's moods over the years- this was an anxious sound, not an angry one. Well, that made two of them then. 

The possibility that in telling Geralt how he felt he might push him away was not lost on Jaskier. But he had tried silently enduring. He had tried distracting himself with sex and flings, with wine and poetry. Nothing changed how he felt, it just made his heart ache all the more. He would rather lose Geralt than carry on without telling him how he felt. He took in a final steadying breath before letting the words all rush out of him all at once.

“Geralt, when we part it feels like my soul has been torn in two, I cannot stand not to be by your side, ask Essi, I’m tragic without you every winter, because dear heart, I love you.” 

He took a moment to breathe, reeling a bit from his admission. The forest seemed to spin around him as he sucked in a nervous breath, in a dizzying rush of dark greens, ochres and browns all spinning into one. He stumbled back a little as his vision settled. Geralt stood in front of him, completely still. Jaskier could feel his eyes beginning to water. Why wasn't he moving? Why wasn't he saying anything? Why wasn't he-

“Jask, you can't.”

What? Jaskier studied Geralt's back as he tried to understand what Geralt meant. He could feel his hands getting clammy and his knees shaking minutely. He thought he had been prepared for rejection, but to hear Geralt spell out that he wasn’t enough for him so clearly...  

“Well, it's good to know how you really feel Geralt, thank you for telling me,” Jaskier said forlornly, looking down at the ground and blinking rapidly trying to keep the tears at bay. At least he had had all those years with him before Geralt made him leave.

He cleared his throat and went over to stand in front of Geralt, ready to say goodbye, head back to their room at the inn and collect his belongings to make a hasty exit off into the sunset to anywhere but here. Instead, he found himself stopped short at the sight of Geralt. His hands clenched tightly closed, jaw trembling as he tried to keep it jammed shut. His head was resting against his chest and his hair was falling in a state of disarray that obscured his expression from Jaskier’s view. He took a step closer and reached one arm out in front of him like he did when trying to get Roach to accept his love, cantankerous as she was.

“Geralt?” he said, edging closer. “I understand that you don't feel the same way, that you don’t think I’m good enough for you-”

“That's not it.”

They stood frozen for a moment as Geralt's words settled in. Jaskier blinked and tilted his head in confusion. Nobody moved. Jaskier could still feel the tears prickling in his eyes, threatening to fall at a moment’s notice. He pressed on anyway- he might as well know what the problem was now, having come so far. 

“Then what is it, Geralt?” The clearing fell silent again. Geralt haltingly tilted his head up from his chest, and the expression on his face was so raw that Jaskier’s stomach jumped, butterflies fluttering through it. He watched as Geralt swallowed, and frowned as he stared back down at the ground, knuckles turning white where he was clenching his fists impossibly tighter.

“It's me, Jaskier. I'm not good enough for you,” he said it so softly that Jaskier wasn't quite sure he'd heard it at first. Surely this strong, capable, considerate individual in front of him didn't truly think that. He paused a moment. No, that was of course entirely possible. Geralt's view of himself had never been especially reliable. It wasn't surprising, what with how so many other people treated him, and the man’s own views on his ‘mutant’ status, but that didn't make it any easier for Jaskier to hear. 

“You're an idiot.”

Geralt didn't move from where he was, didn't blink, didn’t protest. Jaskier sighed- that wasn't what he had meant. 

“Of course you're good enough for me Geralt, why ever wouldn't you be?”

Geralt flinched away from Jaskier’s touch. His shoulders hunched, and it took a moment before he spoke again. 

“Jaskier… I, I’m nothing compared to you. You have your words, and your songs are… fuck Jaskier I can’t even explain. I-” an irritated sigh ran through him and he scraped his hand through his hair. He winced and tried again. “You.. all I do is kill things. You bring joy to people's lives, and they can’t even look at me. You are so much better than me in so, so many ways.” He stepped away, tension clear in every part of him. Jaskier’s heart melted. How could such a wonderful man think so little of himself? It hurt.

He ran his hand very lightly across Geralt's arm. Then he snatched up his wrist and spun the man forcefully round to face him. A little surprised at his success, he blinked but carried on regardless. He clutched Geralt's hand and brought it up to his chest over his heart, willing Geralt to notice from his heartbeat that he was not lying. He angled his face to try and catch Geralt's eye, and when that proved difficult he reached up with his right hand and caught Geralt's chin, tugging his face so their gazes met. Geralt’s amber stare wavered and flickered, eyes glassy. Jaskier tugged roughly until Geralt's eyes focused in on him.

“Geralt. Darling. I am not too good for you. I'm sorry that you feel that way, but I promise, I will do everything in my power to help you see yourself the way I do.” He let his grip on Geralt's hand and jaw soften. He inched back, let his grip slowly fall completely free, and made to slip a step away. He found he couldn't, because there was a sudden, surprising grip holding him in place. 

Geralt's gaze had not moved from the floor but he took in a shuddering breath and looked up once more. His golden eyes glinted in the light, shining with unshed tears. He nodded and moved a step closer. 

“Jaskier,” he whispered, reaching very slowly for his hands. “I’m... I’m not good for you. But I…” he sucked in a breath, his anticipation apparent. “I want to be.” He finished firmly. 

Jaskier smiled. He could see Geralt's mouth moving slowly towards a smile as well. Nervous but determined to take the opportunity while destiny offered it to him, he looked Geralt dead in the eye and said, 

“May I kiss you, my love?”

Geralt nodded cautiously. And then he leaned in. Jaskier couldn't help but notice the way his eyelashes brushed his cheeks as his eyes fluttered shut. Unable to wait any longer, Jaskier surged forward to press their lips together. He sighed, content, as they leaned into each other, and he let his hand fall to rest on Geralt’s waist. He felt Geralt’s smile push up against his mouth and his arms loop across Jaskier’s shoulders. With the sun starting to dim behind them, and the rustling of leaves in the breeze, Jaskier didn’t think he could remember ever feeling so elated in his life.

[1oserjk]

— full stop | still good without luck

when life was becoming a bit steadier

+ here is a clearer puzzle piece of oc n jk’s backstory :D

word count: 2.4k

x full stop masterlist | x masterlist

Three years after he finally landed a solid grip on the shop and enough money came in to pay back the bills including the newly bought house and his studio, is when he came barreling in your shared bedroom door with a complicated-looking bouquet in his hand.

Your first instinctive reaction was to recoil and question the cheesy gesture.

“Oh god. What’s this?” You stupidly pointed—poked towards the obvious. They were very living, giving them a long appreciative look knowing in a matter of days they would wither and fall off if you didn’t snip the stems and soak them in water soon enough. 

“Flowers, obviously. For you.”

You reluctantly took them into your arms, listening intently to the way the thin plastic rubbed against your bare skin.

You wondered if he would be okay with you picking off the petals of some of the white flowers to set out in the sun for a day, before soaking them in oil to preserve the fragrance.

Stupid crafts like that always made you happy. He knew that.

“It’s a pretty pairing,” you honestly said, staring at the stark contrast between the white and the slightly familiar dirty orange. You think you’ve seen it in one of the pages of your A-Z Of Perennials book your mother gifted you last summer.

“They’re your favorite,” he explained as if it was a fact you never knew about yourself.

You nodded. “They are.”

He took a slight breath in before fully releasing to say, “And this lily is my birth flower.” He put his hands in the pockets of his slacks to stop himself from anxiously fidgeting. You thought it was cute. “I’m personally fond of the meaning of them.”

You smiled. “And what exactly could that meaning be?”

“Please—“ his eyes set out for yours when he finished, “—love me.”

The message you received through each petal achingly clear: that Jeon Jungkook was a man made solely for you and nobody else. Somebody so incredibly needy in only the best ways possible, eager to hand you the world — that was your husband and the father of your child.

“Corny, huh,” he attempted to brush off, but you saw right through his prideful facade, the tint to his cheeks lacking in help for the man standing right in front of you.

Jungkook was always the type to go soft at the romanticization of things, as if you were watching a Studio Ghibli film right at the center of his dark-colored orbs, the projection of the simplicity of all things beautiful. It was a solid contrast to your realist characteristic you held, but being with Jungkook all those years only made it easier to fall back and dream for a bit with him.

You carefully set the flowers down on the dresser beside you to wrap your arms around him, his eyes being the easiest thing to fully immerse yourself into.

“Not at all,” you said, shaking your head, “I think they fit you well.”

He hummed, hands easily finding the curve of your hips and landing them firmly atop the thin layer of your dress. He was automatically up to no good when his lips had quirked to one side and his eyes flashed a gleam for a millisecond. “Being pretty?”

You hit at his arm, leaning your head closer to his until your noses met and intuitively slotted at just the right angle. “No,” you lead, lips brushing at the single syllable, “being needy.”

He scrunched his and pulled away from your lips as a form of punishment. Eyes set on the prize, so driven for the one thing you find yourself craving the past week, standing on the tips of your toes and eagerly reaching for a kiss.

He scoffed quietly, putting up a false front. He gave it to you easily and without even a fight, “I’m the needy one? Look who’s kissing me.”

“Please,” you reasoned and puckered up for another, “This is me showing my appreciation and affection for the flowers. Really, thank you.”

He dug his face into your neck and traced the bare skin of your back with the tip of each of his slender fingers. He said something quietly about liking that particular dress on you, his fingers playing along with the open slit to emphasize his appreciation. You shivered slightly from the contact and leaned most of your weight against him to compensate for your legs suddenly weakening.

“I’m glad you liked them,” he murmured into your skin, leaving goosebumps against the rest. “I thought it would be a nice addition to our date night.”

“Speaking of,” you began to mutter at the reminder, “It’s been so long since we’ve had a decent amount of time alone. I was surprised you were free this weekend.”

“Sorry,” he sheepishly said, “As much as I trust those two back at the shop — I don’t. But, they told me I at least needed a small break and that they would take care of interviewing for our receptionist position over the weekend.”

Your head tilted curiously to ponder, “You’re still looking for someone?”

He solemnly nodded.

“Then I might just quit and apply at yours,” you teasingly smirked, “Sounds kind of fun.”

He groans. “As much as that would go appreciated..” His hands suddenly drift down to roam your ass and hips, giving it a solid pinch to make you yelp out loud. The corner of his lips quirked. “I don’t think your mother will appreciate you wasting a degree like that. And to be honest? I don’t think I’d get much work done if you were working under me either.”

“Why not?” You didn’t exactly have the opportunity to be as creative as he was, to interact with new people, and share art the way he did. You were organized and clean though. “I’ve had to take a leave at work to focus on Yeona while you were kept busy with the shop, I want to get back to working again. Want to spend more time with you..”

He landed a solid kiss on the edge of your temple and sighed. “Baby, I promise that once business gains momentum without me having to be there, I’ll take some more time off. I feel better that you’re with our daughter for now.”

Your mouth formed to a downturn. “What about you? Jungkook, she needs her own father.”

There’s a moment of silence between the both of you, a thousand of unspoken words floated in between. Yours surrounded him with question marks.

“Do you really want to start that tonight?” He asked, tiredness stirring in his eyes.

You blinked in slight pain before erasing it completely away from his view to read it as anything more and mustered a weak smile. Your hands fidgetted but stick to simply smoothing out the lines of his dress coat.

The bite on your tongue is harsh and punishing.

“Okay,” you answered, a mustered smile easily stretched out, “Fine.”

You wondered how much longer you both would suppress the looming subject until the next argument would find its way back into conversation again.

You stepped out of his hold and observed him from a distance. His expression is given with the way he held back the same as you.

You didn’t push it for the sake of that night.

With your back turned, you grabbed for your purse and handed him a smile before offering your hand. “Let’s go before it gets too late.”

You’ve encased his hand into your hold at the beginning of the drive, probably slightly dangerous to do but a foolish and selfish habit you had when it came to him. He doesn’t mind when they folded in between the warmth of your thighs, anyway. His driving skills were well off enough to stay stable and to occasionally run his thumb against your skin whenever he pleased.

Just feeling the span of where your short dress had risen had him stirring in his pants and already questioning, “When was the last time we had sex?”

You didn’t flinch at the abrupt question, humming to think. “Maybe about—a week ago?”

His eyes widened. “Fuck, really?”

You nodded. “Your perception of time has always been fucked..” Sitting up, you pinned him a stare, “Come on, you really don’t remember?”

Mindless sex was one of the many ways he would vow out his apology after all. He spelled out his sorry by drawing out an orgasm after orgasm. 

“No, no, I do,” he answered, “I just—didn’t expect it to be that long ago.”

Your mind begged to comment out that it was his fault for always being so damn busy.

“Okay,” he said, arm extended out, having it be enough of your fidgeting and sudden silence, “Come here and hold my hand again.”

It’s his cluelessness to note the way you felt that frustrated you the most — maybe it was just your fault for not properly voicing it out.

“Let’s not think about the last time and look forward to tonight, yeah?” You bit at a remark, reluctantly obliging, only quickly regretting it when his long fingers flexed, unattainable to let go of the raw thoughts that clumped into your head right after. Cheeky bastard. You gripped them tightly to make him hiss out, rubbing the stupid initials of yours on the back of his hand a second later.

He went on with the conversation about some big time client who was willing to spend a fuck ton of money for him to ink his whole entire back. You weren’t too surprised to hear him say that he was informed it would be free game, a general idea and vibe but overall letting Jungkook’s creativity roam free. There was a fond smile stretched upon your lips when he got giddy over it, sprouting out all of the sketch ideas he planned for his work to splay out on the man’s bare skin, eyes twinkling like a fucking kid and it’s beautiful. He’s beautiful.

The car turned to an unfamiliar road and it’s only then your eyebrows furrowed. Your mind perked at the fact you’ve been clueless for that long, not even recognizing the route to your unannounced destination. “I don’t even know where we’re going.”

He turned the wheel again. “Somewhere nicer.” That was the theme for that night, nicer—better—greater than usual.

You eagerly started to look around, like the GPS in front of you didn’t indicate you would be there in the next ten minutes. “Where? What’s the name of the place?” 

He chuckled. “Sit back and wait for it, alright? I promise you’ll like it.”

Of course, you took his word for it.

The tower sat at a painstakingly high height.

“Jungkook,” you deadpanned, “What are we doing here?”

He smiled widely. “Do you remember this place?”

The breeze blew through you and you could only hug yourself tighter with a meager nod. “You took me here for my birthday that one year?”

He nodded, hands in his pockets. “And I only had enough money to pay for the admission fee and nothing else. Not even enough to get a decent souvenir from the gift shop.”

“Hey, no,” you denied with a pout, clearly offended, “You got me a small magnet that’s still hanging on top of our fridge. It’s cute and I love it.”

His tongue ticked against the roof of his mouth and he reluctantly agreed. “Alright, fine. But—”

You gaped at the tower, mindlessly sputtering when you realize, “Is this where we’re having dinner?”

Finally, he confirmed with a solid nod and a sheepish smile. “We have a reservation.”

Blinking, you repeated, “Reservation? Why would we even need one—”

His arm suddenly swooped down and curled your body next to his as soon as you began walking up the intimidating structure. “Because I have the money to do so now, can’t you see? I can finally spoil the fuck out of my wife the way I’ve been wanting to this whole time.” Nicer—better—greater than usual

“Gguk—”

“I know that it might be a few years too late to make up for it, but I want you to realize how much I love you,” he said sincerely. “That I’m doing all of this for reason.”

You tugged his hand and called for him again.

Ignoring your pleas, he continued, “I’m shitty for not doing this sooner, and I know some nights get lonely without me, but I want to pay you back with everything I can possibly afford — I’m working hard. For you. For Yeona. Only for the both of you.”

Impulsively, your heel stomped against the pavement until his attention finally shifted towards you. The action immediately turned regrettable when the impact vibrated and bounced off of your ankle. You winced.

“Jungkook,” you pathetically mumbled, reaching out towards him.

Mid-talk, and it was your eyes that glossed over to throw him off, putting him on high alert. He had no choice but to stare down nervously at you with a bitten lip. 

You exhaled slowly and eventually circled your arms around his neck to pull him closer. You were still just outside of the front doors to climb in a beautifully long elevator ride, the gift shop beside the admission booths light blinking brightly to let visitors know it was wide open for them to waste money on overpriced, useless trinkets and tiny magnets.

Your fingers softly pulled at the hairs of his nape, urging him to give you a kiss right then and there. “I appreciate and love everything you’ve bought and done for me tonight.” Just for even allowing some time for the both of you that weekend — it was way more than enough. Your fingers softly ran over the edge of his jaw and went a bit further up to cup his cheek. His hands slid up to your wrist in return and squeezed, angling his head to put a few kisses on the center of your palm. “But you know I love you regardless, right? I don’t need you to pay back my love I’ll always have for you. Always, Gguk. We maintained a shitty apartment together for so many years, still got married when the circumstances weren’t always the nicest, and continue to raise a beautiful little girl together. Nothing changes when I’m with you.”

He eagerly bent down to encase your lips with his own. “I love you,” he said with utter sincerity, his silent ode to you he would carry along for the rest of his life hung somewhere within the tone of it. Always.

[readbythestarlight]

c2e123

Fuck y’all I’m so scared

Let’s just all really focus some positive energy and pray nobody dies

So like Lucien knew they were plotting right

But he’s also superstitious as fuck and for whatever reason doesn’t want to kill them yet

So like he lets them read the book to tie them to him right

Like insurance

[[MORE]]

Fjord’s like "this is fucked I hope there’s a good explanation for this"

And there’s NOT the only explanation is that they’re MORONS who read a book they shouldn’t have

Veth NO

Yasha is like nO

Yasha is so WORRIED

Things just start happening for them and now Beau is cursed and it’s so unfair

Not the diamonds!!

If you don’t have at least enough diamonds to resurrect at LEAST half the party then you don’t have enough don’t waste them

Guys you can’t cut off their limbs

Does HE see through them or does the Somnovum

Travis is enjoying this way too much

Caleb. FUCKING. Widogast. Do NOT look at the book and Yasha you need to SHUT UP girl.

Oh boys wolves

Oh boy something WORSE than wolves?

MOTHER

FUCKER

IS IT *THE* WHITE DRAGON?

Shit shit fuck

Okay good maybe it’s after the wolves

Oh no it’s

Oh noooooo

FUCK A DUCK

NOOOOOOO

I knew it I knew it was her fuck

If anything we’ll see how powerful/actually pathetic Lucien is now but

Fuck man

Fjord!! Babe!!

I hope they kick dragon ass and Lucien /fears/ them

I also hope the Tomb Takers don’t let them do all the damage, saving their own spells while letting the M9 exhaust themselves to make easier targets

Legendary action from Lucien?? But okay it’s just a hold type action thing??

It’s nice that the TT’s are actually helping

Beau being up on top of her still is bad

See okay you’d think that the dragon would be the worst thing to happen tonight but this does not explain why it’s gonna be an extra long episode so now I’m just trying to decide what will be WORSE than the dragon

...cone of... what...

72 points oh fuck

Cad: "I’m a one wolf wolf pack, come on." xD

DAMN Veth

78 points of damage!

85!! Even better

MATT

Oh thank god for not doing that to poor Yasha

True Love’s Heal

Okay so I’ve been avoiding social media all day so I have no idea what’s coming but apparently the episode is almost SIX HOURS?! And the dragon fight can’t possibly lay THAT’ much longer so y’all I am AFRAID

Right okay Beau’s gonna get swallowed yet, lovely

And now she’s trying to fly AWAY

L: “Let him have her” you FUCK

Yasha immediately like “I’m gonna go running”

The Tomb Takers suck confirmed

Like forreal I wanted them to kill Lucien anyway but now I just want them to kill him *with extreme prejudice*

Caleb’s like “I got you empire sis!!”

Oh OUCH

But good job, Caleb

I hope now they finally realize there isn’t any Molly left in him

Why kill Otis when he seems like possibly a partially decent person

Like fuck Cree and Lucien sure

Yasha like “oh yeah I forgot about this lance strapped to my back, let’s fuck up this dragon!”

YES Yasha good throw! Do some damage

lol okay not much but I like the “Don’t touch my girlfriend!!” vibes

Oh c’mon Matt let her rage throw a grenade xD

So many Nat 20s this fight

Which I’m sure means they’re gonna miss the Nat 20s later

Nice healing Caduceus!

wow it’s good that he healed her huh

Here she goooooooes

“If it’s going we’re gonna let it go—“

Ashley: “I summoned this bitch we’re gonna END her!”

I’m glad she’s gone. They can deal with her later.

Also fuck Lucien.

Yaaaaas Fjord call him out

lmao Jester

Also unfortunately he’s got a point I guess but he still fucking sucks

I don’t know who I want to get the HDYWTDT on Lucien but right now I’m leaning between Cad and Jester and Fjord

KISS

“Anything for my Fjord”

lmao Veth xD

F: “What, I’m mad for her!”

V: “That’s a thing now?!”

It’s just Dagon I hope

Dagon during the dragon fight just like “wtf” like is it actually worth getting paid at this point man

They keep saying his name and not GOING to Essek and it makes me sad

Would polymorph let him keep his chair??

Listen I want Essek here but at the same time I do NOT want Essek here during the longest goddamn episode of the series

Okay okay shit they’re REALLY close, if they’re going to get help then Dagon is gonna have to BOOK it and the. Essek is gonna have to make up his mind QUICK

Oh god I hope there’s no dreams

Okay good some answers to some questions

Is hot boi planning to help? - YES

Can the eyes be used against them? - unknown

Do the TT plan to sacrifice them? - ...Unknown but probably not?

We got a solid yes about Essek tho which makes me happy because it really cements that whole he’s loyal to them

He’s so USELESS I love him

I hope this whole his being useless thing doesn’t hurt he and Jester’s relationship tbh

Mother FUCK

they STOLE their BAG

Fucking fuck those fucking sons of rats

MOTHER

FUCKERS

Not the BAG

They haven’t even RESTED

So they really did just need the damn crest the whole time so if y’all had just sent it off

Fuck

I agree I want the bag back

I’m so fucking SCARED we can’t go into this fight with no rest and low spell slots

Oh god okay oh god here we go

He’s gonna cut their spells

Blood curse of the EYELESS tho?

“That’s like an insta death”

Y: “better not be, I’ll kill him”

What did he do to Cad’s STUFF??

What did he do to CAD?!!!!

Okay not just Cas cause Caleb too so it’s an area

Stay AWAY from my boy

Oh god oh god

FUCK Lucien

“Oh like a beholder?”

YES EXACTLY

Poor Caduceus is so stressed!!

Counter counter counterspell

I’m so stressed I haven’t been able to make myself type

But I swear that if they weren’t half spent from the dragon they’d have managed to whoop them

YES Fjord YES smart boy

Fuck you Lucien

Honestly if they’d had al their spells they’d have done so much better against him

Oh my GOD though that was TENSE

But nobody’s DEAD thank god

But forreal I really think that if they had all their spells and health they could have taken them

And the best part is NOW they can FINALLY go to Essek!!

Love you too, Matt!

[creacherkeeper]

How is the cowboi doing? :) I’d love to hear about some of their recent adventures.

OH WELL IT'S ME + ALSO MY DICE HATE(/love) ME SO YOU KNOW THEYRE GETTING WHUMPED CONSTANTLY LMAO

there have certainly been some Events Unfolding so those are under the cut, casey since youre in our campaign now NO PEEKING

fair warning this is .... long ..... you have asked me to talk about my dnd character and you simply CANNOT stop the floodwaters now. enter at your own risk

okay so basically the first arc of the campaign kind of kicked off with them getting a vision from their goddess (the grain goddess/goddess of agriculture) saying that she was trapped in a fey gate and that they needed to come rescue her

so erley immediately Rallied The Posse and set off to do that. they NUMEROUS times tried to pray to her, commune with her, basically just get ANY sort of communication or guidance from her, but the dice like to tell their story so i literally never got above an 11 (paladin with only +2 to religion my beloved) and they never heard from her, which was making them. pretty nervous. when it seemed like everyone else was able to talk to their gods just fine

well we eventually figured out that there was a huge gathering of fey in the woods (me: this might be too big for us to fight. what if its like 30 fey? / my dm, glancing at his notes where he has 2000 fey written down: (: ) and basically the fey like. had captured and were trying to kill what was left of the pantheon so they could bring back gaia as the One True God

we found all this out because it turned out several members of the party had been lying about how much they knew of the fey and had personal connections to the fey they'd kept hidden. and erley, who is ALSO HIDING A LOT from the party like. immediately went on the offense and was just generally very unhappy about this

there had been this fey merchant who kept popping up wherever we were trying to sell us magic weapons that seemed tied to us specifically. erley was always VERY suspicious of her and did everything in their power to stop the others from buying her weapons (which we literally had to buy with -5 to a skill point, not money, v sus) to mixed results. but basically when we got to the fey gathering (we called it gaiapalooza) erley rolled a 1 on their survival check to get through the magic field and like. got teleported to her. and they really wanted information from her so they basically were like LEORA I DONT KNOW WHO TO TRUST I THINK MY PARTY HAS BEEN LYING TO ME, CAN YOU TELL ME ANYTHING ABOUT THEM CAN YOU SEE US WHEN YOURE NOT THERE? and basically pretended to need a therapy session in order to milk her for information lmao. she also seemed like. REALLY interested in erley and i was also very nervous about that

and i was RIGHT to be suspicious of her because we found out she WAS ACTUALLY THE BIG BAD and we had to fight her in the arc finale. and several of our party members had rl stuff and were not there, and in game our druid was away casting an 8 hour long spell to try and stop the palooza ceremony, so our party was SUPER nerfed and also as soon as erley realized it WAS actually leora who was behind all of it and she WAS trying to hurt them with those weapons (the weapons were tethers to the gods to be able to kill them basically), they got .... a little angry

and my party found out after irl a year of playing these characters that erley's first level is barbarian :))

so erley raged and did frankly a staggering amount of damage in this fight, and also only stayed up because of rage because they took a LOT of hits. but also. they dont rage FOR A REASON so it sort of took them over and when leora dropped, one of the other pcs ran over to stabilize her as she was making death saves and erley :) maybe :) drove a spear through her heart and killed her :)

and her body immediately just like. overgrew with plants and vines and flowers and basically wrapped the spear in a bed of plants and it was very cinematic and cool

(we have since found out that leora was like. actually an aspect of gaia so. that is. interesting)

of course then erley popped out of rage and was like FUCK this is why i dont do this, i went too far, it always goes too far, THIS is why im ashamed of this, and just got very emo boi about it. so they used their last spell slot to cast restoration on the space they had fought in and reached out to their goddess, having just saved her and the rest of the pantheon like she had asked them to

and i rolled a nat 1!!!

(the dm was like "you have committed this violent act, you feel so low and so bad and in need of guidance, and reach out to your goddess. and the absolute lack of a response just makes you feel empty inside" and i was like :) oh :) okay cool :) you love to see that with your paladins huh)

at this point the druid came back in and, instead of erley like. examining any of their own shit immediately lashed out at her and was like "why did you lie to me about the fey, why did you lie about why you were here, why ARE you here because i realize now it wasnt to help me"

and at that point ONE OF THE FEY QUEENS WALKED IN and the druid was like "... mother ..." and we were all :O

so it turns out the fey queen is her birth mom but had like? kidnapped one of the children of her firbolg tribe and was holding her hostage and the druid was on a quest to find her and bring her back

so erley :) felt :) even more bad about that :) and very shamedly pledged their help to her, and basically was like "as long as youre on this noble quest i will follow you if you'll have me"

so we're on our second arc now, which is traveling across the country to go meet the fey queen and get this kid back. as we were traveling my dm had me roll religion and a luck check and i got a 21 ON RELIGION FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER and a 6 luck. and he was like "you dont usually dream, but you have a nightmare. you know this nightmare was given to you, it was divinely inspired, but you dont know who sent it" and it was just erley killing leora over and over and over again. so they were like. well fuck

(my dm also messaged me privately and we talked and he was like. yeah you can get rid of your oath of devotion and change it to oath of the ancients, i am not telling you or erley why the subclass has changed and you also might get nerfed later. also level up barbarian for the next fight)

so erley was. feeling PRETTY DANG BAD and very guilty and stressed and all that. they did also realize their barbarian side was getting stronger which, considering their backstory is all tragic barbarian shit they were NOT happy about. i was fully prepared to have them be more ostracized from the party and go into full angst mode, but then the druid actually like. pulled them aside and explained why she had hidden information from them, and had a very sweet conversation with them and held their hand and it was VERY touching (she also had the baller line "you think your goddess can hear you and she's not answering. but maybe you're talking in a whisper and she needs to hear you scream")

we had another fight (we're level 7 and my dm told us after it was a cr 32 fight like. dude??? what the fuck?????) and once again erley didnt go down only because of rage

THEY ALSO UNINTENTIONALLY CAST MISTY STEP (which is an ancients spell they didnt have before) and were like WELL NO TIME TO UNPACK WHAT THAT WAS RIGHT NOW, HAVE TO NOT DIE

after the battle was over i asked to roll a check to figure out why i had access to that spell and got :) yeah you guessed it :) another nat 1 :) so erley has literally no idea how they cast that or what it could mean. we just had a new pc introduced who is a sorcerer so erley is definitely going to talk to her and see if she knows anything. because they are FULLY IN THE DARK about their subclass change or what that means in game

we're also (because of the fucking cr 32 fight) going to be leveling up again soon, and babey you KNOW im leveling barbarian. after rage kept me up and then rolling another nat 1 religion check, and also me the player not knowing whats up with their goddess/magic, i simply cant level paladin rn. so im BETWEEN A FEW SUBCLASS OPTIONS and ive been thinking them over but i think it really depends how the next few games go

my FULL ANGST option was to make them level into zealot barbarian like their awful dad, but i thought that made the least sense in universe rn

secondary angst option is to level into berserker, which i think fits pretty closely with how i've been roleplaying the rage so far. trading off an extra attack for a level of exhaustion fits pretty closely. also whump central

the NICE option is to have them be a totem warrior barbarian, and have both their paladin steed and their totem be a bull :) (they are a cowboi after all) i think thats the closest i can marry their two classes and potentially have some healthy growth for them, let them see that the rage doesnt HAVE to be a bad thing, that being a barbarian isnt something they HAVE to be ashamed of. reskinning the bear totem would give them resistance to all damage but psychic while raging, and im planning on taking the tough feat, so theyd pretty much be ... an unstoppable tank. plus i can still divine smite while in rage so theyd be VERY powerful

and now youre all caught up on my very special boi :))))) bet you didnt expect quite that much of an infodump but. listen. listen im simply obsessed with dnd i cannot help it. any chance to talk about my characters i WILL TAKE IN A HEARTBEAT (thank u for prompting my ramble lmao)

[ketchup-monthly]

Sanders Sides D&D 1

imagine virgil just cursing janus while out of combat, and theres one time where they end up going into a combat scenario while hes still cursed

but the thing with the curse is that if the creature dies while cursed, the warlock gains temporary hit points

so if cursed janus were to die, virgil would gain temp hp

Patton: omg, we need to save Janus Virgil, who cursed him yesterday: how about we let him die, then resurrect him later, yeah?

(roman and remus) lol they would totally just run into each other and instantly just hate

everyone else (except maybe patton) would figure out that theyre brothers but they would just deny it until their father (who maybe they were looking for) spelled it out for them

concept: they're an aasimar and tiefling both on a quest to find their long lost brother, but their both expecting their sibling to be the same race as them. they don't get along for both personality reasons and because, you know, aasimar and tiefling, but they're both in the party anyway

I just realized that as a changeling Janus can just change his height at will

Like to make a point to the twins when theyre acting up, he can change to be like 7 foot (still a medium creature tho)

But like. Subtly adjusting his height so much that no one notices until hes suddenly as tall as patton

"Im a growing boy" (true but also false)

tricking people by slowly growing/shrinking on them but trying to convince them it's the other way around

"dude, weren't you shorter a few minutes ago?" "i have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. are you feeling alright?"

"Youre getting taller" "No youre just getting shorter"

he gets like a full six inches on whoever he's pranking before they start really panicking

Except Virgil, who panics immediately

virgil also really notices bc in normal form, janus is only an inch shorter than him

despite being smart, Logan usually doesnt notice at all until Janus has gotten at least 4 inches taller, and then he knows whats going on

Virgil, realizing his sight line for Janus is slightly off: narrows eyes

roman takes a while to notice and he panics as well. remus thinks its hilarious. patton notices once Janus is taller than him (after 4 or 5 inches)

oh! because of the type of tiefling he is, Remus knows the vicious mockery cantrip

the thing is though, he would end up using it on the rest of his party too (everyone takes psychic damage on a failed wis save)

he would purposefully use it on his party members

as if he were a bard. he would try to inspire them but would instead harm them

remus is a barbarian who thinks himself a bard

he is a harbinger of chaos, we stan

he'd make your dad jokes at roman lmaoooo

not knowing hes talking shit about his own dad

he'd keep making them after they find out their siblings, probably tho

Roman: we have the same dad! Remus: >:)

im thinking about making romans name actually romulus but he goes by roman

bc romulus and remus

and bc roman seems to tame for a noble

okay so their dad is named Mars or some derivative of Mars, and their moms are Rhea and Silvia. Remus was in part raised by a beasthide shifter (the wolf kind) named Lupe (bc i need feral child remus)

probably romans mom was an aasimar and remus's mom was a tiefling (and while their dad was human, they ended up being an aasimar and a tiefling, respectively, bc dominant genes)

also the boys have inverted hair and eye colors

remus has dark hair with a white streak and red eyes, roman has white hair with smaller dark streaks all around and green eyes

as a drow, Virgil has light purple skin, white and purple hair, and eyes that have black instead of white and purple irises

Remus: hey, man, i need a heal Roman: no. go bother Patton Remus: Pat's out of heals Roman: Remus: dude, pls Roman: you are covered in muck and i don't even like you. no. no way Remus: Roman: Remus: please, brother Roman: ..........fine

roman heals him for 1hp

Roman: take a nap

what would be funny is if remus called roman his brother long before they knew they had the same dad but he did it to annoy him bc he knew roman hated it when he did it

Remus: hello, brother Roman: we're not brothers Remus: we're brothers-in-arms, aren't we? Roman: that's not the same! Remus: eh, close enough

Roman at Remus is the line from trail to oregon thats like "why am i even trying to help you, i hate you"

roman also just straight up refuses to heal janus, even when pat is out of spell slots

yeeee i have Patton as a druid but its just because i want his wild shape to be a giant frog (also druids are healers and have access to both cure wounds and healing word)

well in the first one, roman and remus are looking for their dad/the brother their mothers said they have

janus wanted to fuck shit up (not really, he was bored and annoying virgil is fun. and remus needed a babysitter)

(logan maybe knew roman previously and was sent as his babysitter)

romans got no brain cells. hes a noble on a quest. of course someone smart would be sent to keep him from dying

logan might work with Jan

(Bro, big dramatic reveal x chapters in, Jan knew Remus and romans father)

janus (handshake emoji) logan tired of keeping the twins from dying

i was thinking he was chosen by romans mom originally as like a "logan you are the only smart one please keep him from doing something stupid"

as a courtier, Janus would have known Roman and by extension Logan

so if hes really the one orchestrating the reason the main party got together, then (eyes)

virgil was a street rat, thats his background, so he likely knew at least of roman, janus, and logan. pat and remus are both wanderers of sorts, so that may be Pats connection to the main 4

okay but i had remus as an outlander, so like. maybe he was but then his mom took him away?

i had him as like a wild man child whose mom was like "hey you have a brother" and remus was like "sweet imma find him"

they were completely separate. romans mom was the daughter of a noble, so he was raised as a noble. remus's mom was either the daughter of a tribal chief or the chief herself, so he was raised like that. they had no idea that they had a brother. the moms likely knew, or they were told somehow by the dad, but they were completely separate

Mom: remus you have a half brother Remus: okay Mom: thats it? you're not shocked? Remus: mom do you think he'd like my bug collection?

(the answer is no, Roman does not like the bug collection)

Patton also does not like the bug collection

virgil and logan love it, and janus is used to it

so changeling janus, right? if he orchestrated it all, then he could have been in different forms in the court and in the tribal village

so like he knew basically everyone (but Pat, who Remus met and then kept)

Remus, to patton: I like your funny words, magic man

Remus, upon meeting Pat: so you like frogs Patton: ....yes? Remus: cool i like them too. they taste slimy. Patton: ??????? Remus: Patton: are you okay? Remus: nope! Patton: ....okay... Remus: wanna see my bug collection?

Remus, setting himself on fire: ahhahaaha nothing can hurt me Janus, quick to douse him in water: resistance is not the same as immunity!!!

[tigerkirby215]

5e Teemo, the Swift Scout build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Riot Games)

So funny story: Teemo was originally going to be a Death Cleric and I had this massive joke about how “Illaoi was a Cleric with no Cleric levels and Lux should’ve been a Cleric but wasn’t and then the Devil himself ends up being a Cleric” but midway through writing this build I realized that another class made a lot more sense and I had to scrap like half my work.

Even on Tumblr Teemo annoys me.

GOALS

Swiftly - Teemo is literally called “the Swift Scout.” You’ll never guess what subclass we’re going to pick.

That's gotta sting - We’re going to need to fight dirty with poisons and blinds to overpower our foes.

Got a little surprise for 'em - Your enemies should never feel safe walking into your territory, knowing that a trap could be there just waiting for them.

RACE

One may think that to be a small Swift Scout one would want to be a halfling, but there are plenty of small races in 5e to choose from. This may come as a surprise but I’m actually going to suggest playing a Deep Gnome. Your Intelligence increases by 2 and you have Gnome Cunning for advantage on Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma saving throws against magic.

As a Deep Gnome your Dexterity increases by 1. You have Superior Darkvision of 120 feet, and advantage on Stealth checks to hide in rocky terrain thanks to Stone Camouflage. I mean, it’s not a bush but you could probably stealth in the jungle.

ABILITY SCORES

15; DEXTERITY - You don’t get the title of “The Swift Scout” by being slow on your feet. (Excluding the fact that you have 25 movement speed.)

14; INTELLIGENCE - Knowledge of guerilla warfare would be more intelligence-based.

13; WISDOM - Teemo is a survivalist, having to spend months in the jungle with nothing but mushrooms to keep him company.

12; CONSTITUTION - Even if Teemo is squishy in-game it’s still nice to have a bit of extra bulk.

10; STRENGTH - Teemo needs to be able to carry all his equipment, which is where Strength comes in.

8; CHARISMA - FUCKING TEEMOOOOOOOOOOOO. (Memes aside feel free to make your Strength lower I’m mostly just dumping Charisma for the meme.)

BACKGROUND

As a Survivalist the Outlander background is pretty good to take. You get proficiency in Athletics, but I’m actually going to suggest swapping your Survival proficiency with Medicine for reasons that are going to be clear later. Why Medicine? I think Teemo would remember to bring some health pots. Regardless you also get proficiency in a musical instrument of your choice (Spirit Blossom Teemo has a Flute so take that) and a language of your choice. (Which of course has to be Infernal kekw. But really pick whatever you think will be useful.)

As an Outlander your Wanderer feature will help you remember the layout of the map you’ve been on for 10 years, and you can find food and water for yourself and 5 other people due to your adept survival skills. Captain Teemo on duty!

(Artwork by Riot Games)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - ROGUE 1

Starting off as a Rogue for the extra proficiencies. Take Acrobatics to swiftly run away, Stealth to... well, stealth, Deception to trick foes into walking onto your mushrooms, and Perception to gain vision with your traps. You also get Expertise in two skills: Acrobatics and Stealth will make you the master of hit-and-run.

Speaking of hit-and-run Rogues get Sneak Attack, allowing them to do an extra d6 of damage if they attack with Advantage, or if an ally is within 5 feet of the target they’re attacking. The attack has to be with a ranged weapon which is a good segway to talk about Teemo’s weapon. Blowguns do exist in 5e but they’re trash, so unless your DM is willing to give you a seriously strong blowgun I’d personally suggest just using a Light Crossbow... for now.

But if you meet any other Bandle Scouts out in the wild you can communicate with them using Thieves’ Cant, a secret code only taught to scouts and other Rogues.

LEVEL 2 - ROGUE 2

Hey it’s everyone’s favorite ability: Cunning Action! As a Bonus Action you can now Move Quick to Dash or Disengage, or use your passive to Hide. Of course Hiding with Expertise in Stealth and then popping out to shoot a poisoned “dart” (crossbow bolt) at an enemy is a good way to get a sneak attack off.

LEVEL 3 - ROGUE 3

Third level Rogues can choose their Roguish Archetype, and hey isn’t it funny that Rogues have a subclass called “Scout?” Scout Rogues are Skirmishers, allowing them to move up to half their movement speed away from an enemy if they end their turn within 5 feet of you as a reaction.

And remember how I told you to drop Survival proficiency? Scout Rogues gain free Expertise in both Survival and Nature thanks to the Survivalist skill! Now would be a good time to point out that D&D Beyond will let you change the proficiency in your background if you get it past level 1. Also your Sneak Attack increases to 2d6.

LEVEL 4 - ROGUE 4

4th level is our first Ability Score Improvement: for some Guerrilla Warfare take the Skulker feat to hide more easily in bushes, not reveal yourself when you attack, and see better while hiding in the brush.

(Artwork by Riot Games)

LEVEL 5 - WIZARD 1

Hey look everyone it’s my favorite class, because Teemo perpetually frustrates me! If you can’t tell this was going to be Cleric levels and I’m writing this immediately after scrapping like half my build so... a little annoyed. Yay.

Anyways Wizards at level one get Spellcasting: you get a Spellbook where you can write down 3 cantrips and four 1st level spells. Your cantrips are always ready but you can prepare a number of spells equal to your Wizard level plus your Intelligence modifier. Seeing as your INT mod is 3 that means you can prepare all the spells I list! (At least for level 1)

CANTRIPS

For a ranged source of poison damage take Infestation to both poison and confuse your foes to make it harder for them to approach you.

For a melee source of poison damage take Poison Spray for a lot of damage! What do you mean Poison damage is commonly resisted? I don’t know what you’re talking about.

To strategize with your team Message will let you keep quiet while preparing to ambush!

SPELLS

Snare is a trap spell that will let set up a trap. Not a mushroom trap, but a snare trap.

If you want to use your traps for information however Alarm will let you ward an area so you know if someone passes through it. Or you can make the alarm loud so everyone knows!

For some poisoned darts Ray of Sickness lets you do... exactly that. Shoot posioned darts to poison your foes.

Finally to Move Quick take Longstrider, which increases your movement speed by 10.

You also get access to Arcane Recovery, allowing you to recover Spell Slots on a Short Rest equal to half your Wizard level rounded up (with some finer details please read the description of the ability that I’m too lazy to describe.) Teemo has a lot of supplies to survive in the wilderness, so it’s not surprising he packed more darts.

LEVEL 6 - WIZARD 2

Second level Wizards can choose their Arcane Tradition and I’m actually going to suggest a bit of a wild card here: go for the Bladesinging subclass. Yes it’s meant for Elves only but I have never met a single DM who enforced that rule.

Regardless as a Bladesinger you have Training in War and Song for Performance proficiency, Light Armor proficiency (which you already have), and proficiency in one type of one-handed melee weapon. (Scimitars are the only Finesse weapon you don’t have proficiency in as a Rogue so that’s basically your only option.)

But the main feature of the Bladesinger is of course their Bladesong. You can activate your Bladesong as a bonus action for 1 minute. During Bladesong your AC increases equal to your Intelligence modifier, your walking speed increases by 10 feet, you have advantage on Acrobatics checks, and you get a bonus to Concentration checks equal to your Intelligence modifier.

“But Teemo doesn’t use a sword!” I hear you say. Well Bladesong ends if you use two hands to make an attack but you know what doesn’t take two hands to shoot? Well for one Blowguns, but since Blowguns in 5e suck: Hand crossbows! Get a Hand Crossbow to supplement a blowgun, and boom you’re still a ranged character! Yeah much to my surprise Bladesinger doesn’t have any restriction on using ranged weapons: you just can’t use two hands to make an attack. Regardless you have two uses of Bladesong per short or long rest.

You can also add two more first level spells to your spellbook like Detect Magic and Identify to help you know what you find in the wild.

LEVEL 7 - WIZARD 3

Third level Wizards can learn second level spells like Blindness / Deafness for a blinding dart, and Invisibility for more Guerrilla Warfare.

LEVEL 8 - WIZARD 4

4th level Wizards get another Ability Score Improvement but you know what we don’t have enough of? Feats! Take the Crossbow Expert feat to ignore the loading property on crossbows, ignore melee range disadvantage with crossbows, and attack with a hand crossbow with your bonus action after making the attack action. Stinger attack speed’s gotta sting!

Additionally you can learn another two spells at this level along with a new cantrip! For your leveled spells grab Misty Step for Flash and Enlarge / Reduce, because size doesn’t mean everything. For your cantrip Mending will help you keep your scout equipment in check.

LEVEL 9 - WIZARD 5

At level 5 you can learn 3rd level spells. You know what we haven’t gotten yet? Mushrooms. For a very expensive trap Glyph of Warding will let you put down a near-invisible glyph in an area for a mere 200 gold and 1 hour of set-up time. You decide what triggers the glyph, be it something complicated or something simple like an enemy walking near it.

When the spell activates you can choose one of two effects: the simple solution is just to make it explode for 5d8 acid, cold, fire, lightning, or thunder damage. Alternatively you could store a spell of third level or lower into it, and have it target whoever activates the glyph or the area around them. I’d highly suggest reading Glyph of Warding over in full before using the spell. It’s a powerful spell but it’s costly and requires a lot of set up time.

But you know what’s a simple spell? Fireball. Weaponize your shrooms for a big explosion of damage.

LEVEL 10 - WIZARD 6

6th level Bladesingers get an Extra Attack! Yup: that’s it! Because you’re a fake Fighter. But yeah this is primarily why we took Crossbow Expert, so you can still attack twice with a crossbow.

Well, you can also add another two spells to your spellbook. To move incredibly Swiftly take Haste. Other than that you can truly grab whatever spell you want as there isn’t much else that’s truly “in character” for such a simple character as Teemo. My out-of-character suggestion is to take Mirror Image from second level for a great boost to survivability. The only thing more annoying than one Teemo is three Teemos.

(Artwork by Riot Games)

LEVEL 11 - ROGUE 5

Back to our swift scouting ways 5th level Rogues get Uncanny Dodge, letting them use their reaction to reduce the damage of an attack by half. Your Sneak Attack damage also increases to 3d6.

LEVEL 12 - ROGUE 6

6th level Rogues get Expertise in two more skills: Perception will let you make good use of your wards, and Deception will let you make good use of your mushrooms.

LEVEL 13 - ROGUE 7

Isn’t Teemo really annoying and hard to kill? Well with Evasion he’ll be even harder to kill since he’ll take no damage on a successful Dexterity saving throw and only half damage if he fails. And your Sneak Attack increases to 4d6 too?!

LEVEL 14 - ROGUE 8

8th level Rogues get another Ability Score Improvement and you know: I don’t think we have enough Feats. Fade Away is a Gnome-specific feat that will let you get use out of your passive by turning invisible when you get hit as a reaction. You remain invisible until the end of your next turn or until you attack, deal damage, or force someone to make a saving throw. You can use this reaction once per short or long rest and it uses the same reaction as Uncanny Dodge, so use it wisely!

(Artwork by Riot Games)

LEVEL 15 - ROGUE 9

At 9th level your Scout training gives you Superior Mobility for 10 extra feet of movement speed. "Hut, two, three, four!" Your Sneak Attack damage also increases to 5d6.

LEVEL 16 - ROGUE 10

10th level Rogues get another Ability Score Improvement to help compensate for all the feats. Increase your Dexterity and Wisdom by 1 for even Ability Scores.

LEVEL 17 - ROGUE 11

11th level Rogues get Reliable Talent so any roll with a skill you’re proficient in can’t be below a 10. If you roll a 9 or lower it counts as a 10. Whenever I get this ability I like to do a tally of all the skills you have and what the lowest potential roll is, so...

26 in Acrobatics (with Advantage if in Bladesong)

26 in Stealth (with Advantage to hide in rocky areas)

25 in Nature

24 in Perception or Survival

22 in Deception

18 in Medicine

16 in Athletics

15 in Performance

And to top it off your Sneak Attack damage increases to 6d6.

(Artwork by Riot Games)

LEVEL 18 - ROGUE 12

12th level Rogues get another Ability Score Improvement and as much as I want to take more Feats (believe me I do) let’s finally cap off that Dexterity score for the deadliest darts.

If you aren’t playing with Standard Array and want some more Feats here’s a few I could suggest:

Poisoner (Yeah duh)

Svirfneblin Magic (More blinds, among other things)

Alert (To always be ready for a fight)

Observant (A half feat to spot any incoming danger)

Tough (Just because you aren’t a tank doesn’t mean that Grasp of the Undying is a bad rune)

LEVEL 19 - ROGUE 13

With 13 levels in Scout you are an Ambush Master. You have advantage on initiative checks, and in addition the first creature you hit during the first round of a combat becomes easier to hit. Attack rolls against that target have advantage until the start of your next turn, because it’s pretty hard to defend yourself when blinded. "Smell that? That's fear." Your Sneak Attack also increases to 7d6.

LEVEL 20 - ROGUE 14

Your final level is the 14th level of Rogue for a 10 foot Blindsense, allowing you to sense any hidden or invisible creature near you. Clearly they only have camouflage.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

Turns out I got a proficiency in killing - Up to three attacks per turn with a +11 to hit means it’s more than likely you’ll hit your 7d6 Sneak Attack. Not to mention the strength of Wizard spells, notably Fireball.

Wars are won with men, not machines - Rogues are skill monkies and it turns out you’re quite the asset outside of combat. Expertise in 6 skills, notably the ones to keep alive in the wilderness. And of course the ability to cast Ritual spells like Detect Magic and Identitfy.

Never underestimate the power of the Scout's code - So Teemo’s pretty annoying right? Well I didn’t realize he’d be so damn elusive! +11 to Dexterity saves with Evasion, 35 feet of movement, Advantage on all mental saves, insanely good stealth skills, reactions to get away from danger... And this isn’t even mentioning the benefits from being a Wizard! Bladesong lets you increase your AC by 3 (up to 20 if you’re wearing Studded Leather!) and increase your movement speed to 45... Oh and you can just turn invisible! As well as blind the enemy and speed yourself up.

CONS

Size is a liability - A few feats too many means not enough ability scores, yet somehow we don’t have enough feats for things like Poisoner. Perhaps reserve this build for when you can use Point Buy. Or at least ditch Skulker because you really don’t need it when you can, ya know... turn invisible?

You'd be surprised how quick fur ignites - Of course the lack of Ability Scores means that your Wizard DC isn’t fantastic. Granted most of your spells are utility but a lot of them require saves, and a lot more of them are rather weak. Poison damage is one of the worst damage types in the game and both your cantrips are poison, not to mention Ray of Sickness. Feel free to grab other spells as you see fit.

Lots to do before I punch out - Teemo is squishy in League and Wizard levels don’t help in D&D. Even with the +1 to CON you’ll likely have a little over 100 health by level 20, which easily puts you in Power Word Kill range. You’re elusive yes but a bit of bad luck and you’ll be six feet under.

But you’re not meant to be the strongest: you’re meant to be annoying. Hit-and-run, hide in the shadows, and whittle the enemy down before you win the war of attrition. You’re in it for the long-con, and not just the end game. You’re engaging in psychological warfare: tearing at your opponent’s mental state until nothing remains. You are a master of anger and temptation. You are a demon; a devil... Or you might just be a hamster with a blow gun.

(Artwork by Riot Games)

[avinrydarchive]

hallow’s eve, saint’s day

Author: AvinRyd Fandom: The Bartimaeus Sequence Rating: G Pairing: Gen Word Count: ~8500 words

When in Prague...

--

Some lighthearted spooky shenanigans for you this October.

Written for the Bartimaeus Fic Exchange 2020. Check out the collection on AO3 to see everyone else’s awesome fics!

Read on AO3

Chapter 1: Somewhere: Sometime

 22,643

“...”

“Hello, glad to see you’re awake.”

“Um, hello. Where am I? How long was I...asleep?”

“Well, twenty-two thousand, six hundred and forty three spirits have passed by since you arrived, so I’d assume about five days on the mortal plane? Hard to say exactly, but I’ve had a while to put a model together. “As to where you are? Stuck.”

“Stuck?”

“Stuck. I have many theories as to where and how, but the fact is that we’re stuck here between the two dimensions known to my people—and yours, I’m assuming, since you came from the same direction I did.”

“Oh…

“You said you’ve been here for a while? Is it permanent, then? This being stuck?”

“In theory? No. I believe it’s possible for us to leave, should the right situation arise. However, in practice? I’ve yet to see a situation that would afford an exit so...it might be permanent, yes.”

“...”

“...”

“How long have you been here?”

“I lost count a few centuries ago.”

 1,962,573

“Hey, the gates haven’t done that before.”

“Oh, that usually means someone on the mortal plane came up with something interesting. What… Oh. That’s  very interesting. I wonder…”

“What? No. No, stop—whatever you’re ‘wondering’ it’s a bad idea.”

“Hmmm, doubtful.”

     4,747,821

    “...”

“Finally! That was way too long, don’t do it again.”

“How long?”

“Thirty thousand, six hundred and fifty seven. I didn’t think you were going to form back up that time.”

“I was  so close though. It closed just a fraction of a second too soon. Next time—”

“Next time?! Did you hear how long I said you were gone? You’re going to get yourself dispelled at this rate, and there’s no guarantee it’ll work!”

“It will.”

“Oh, so when I say stuff like that, it’s arrogant, but when you do it’s just fact?”

“It’s not arrogance when my previous hypotheses have all been correct. It’s based off the same knowledge, there’s every chance I’m right. I  know I’m right. I—

“Wait, there’s another one.”

“Ah, no. Hold on—”

“I’m going to do it. This time for sure.”

“Wait! What if it doesn’t work? What if it  does?  Will you— That is, I’ll be…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll work out the method, then come back for you. I promise, my friend.”

“Friends? Is that what we are? I—wait, no!”

“...”

“...”

“I didn’t even ask his name…”

Chapter 2: Prague: Hallow's Eve

“—so there’s no need to worry about it. Piper and Harold can badger me all they want, send all the nastily worded imp messages they like—it’s not like I’ll run out of 'fuck,no's. I’ve got an unlimited supply.” Kitty sighed and shifted, trying to ease the ache in her back without smudging chalk lines. Sitting on the hardwood floor was murder on her over-taxed body, sending sharp spikes of discomfort up the curve of her spine and into her creaking hip joints, but this circle was so fragile she didn’t dare risk throwing a chair into the mix. The ringing at the base of her skull wasn’t terribly comfortable either, but it was a side effect of this spell they’d been unable to mitigate. Over the slight resonance, Bartimaeus’s voice replied, “Alright, alright. And since you’ve left Bruges they’ll probably have a time finding you for a while, at least. How’s Prague?” “Beautiful. Old. Rainy. A bit spooky, but I suppose that’s to be expected.” The laugh ringing through their connection wasn’t just one voice, but many. That was the interesting thing about this; she was speaking to Bartimaeus, but he was only separated from the Other Place just enough to exist as “Bartimaeus”—the rest of the Other Place was nearly an equal part of their conversation, which had taken some getting used to. “See, that’s the appropriate response. Certain modern magicians I’ve known—particularly young, bratty, British ones—have no appreciation for the old magic that city is steeped in. And speaking of magical detritus from a thousand failed spells, you did bring your instruments with you when you left Belgium, right? This is the longest we’ve ever had the portal open, and—” Kitty sighed again, much put-upon. “Yes, Bartimaeus. I have them and they’re set up and everything is stable. There was a tiny spike a few minutes ago, but everything is normal otherwise. I left Bruges to get away from the hovering protective people, you know. Please don’t you start being one now.” Bartimaeus scoffed, but the humming presence behind him was at least half on Kitty’s side, she was sure. “Fine, far be it from me to care about silly humans doing insane experimental magic with minimal education. I place full faith in your absolute knowledge and will immediately cease worrying that the portal will explode in your face and leave a Kitty-sized crater in one of the oldest standing magical cities of the mortal realm. I wash my metaphorical hands of it.” It was Kitty’s turn to laugh, bright and clear in a way it’d taken years for her to get to. “You do that. Anything in particular I should know about the city: places I should go, things to avoid?” “Eh, just keep your wits.” Kitty got a strong, almost visual impression that, had Bartimaeus been in a material form, he’d be looking on with an unimpressed twist to his mouth. This was such a weird spell. “If you’ve got that aura-viewing skill on tap still, keep a sharp eye out. Avoid any bridges without auras—they’re most likely falling apart internally. And costumed men with ‘distinctive’ candles!” “O-o-okay? That’s highly specific, should I be concerned?” The suggestion of a shrug and his words came through crackled with interference. “Not really, he was just a bit creepy by human standards, and that candle… Not a thing for polite company. Thought you’d prefer to steer clear of anyone similar. Don’t go to graveyards tonight, either.” The ringing at the back of Kitty’s mind was escalating to a high whine and she reached up to massage the base of her skull. One of the glass phials outside the circle, sealed and full of swirling gas, was starting to pulse with a faint glow. “Alright Bartimaeus, we’ve got to stop. The spell’s starting to break up. I’ll try again after I’ve spoken with the print master, okay?” “Good, this was probably too much strain on you anyway. Have fun bullying old men into changing books!” The djinni’s voice sounded further away than before, and before Kitty could reply, the connection snapped off. There was a sharp pop and a flash of sparks in the air above her as the spell collapsed—another issue to work on. She’d love to reach out to Button for ideas on a fix, but that would invite more pleas to return to London and Kitty was so, so tired of those. Government was not for her, not even a little bit. Even her drive for activism had waned, though she suspected it was simply burnout—and as Bartimaeus and Jakob and everyone else had said, this was some well deserved burnout indeed. Standing up was a process for Kitty these days: gingerly uncross legs; wait for the shriek of pain to stop; get knees under herself with careful movements; press up using stiff wrists to stand with popping knees; roll slowly upright, feeling every sore vertebrate slot into place. Painkillers. She had a couple left from the drugstore in Burges, right? She hoped so. She was far too tired to be exploring the city for a drugstore—or an apothecary? Who knew what this place had. Her travel bag lay on the bed, flap sagging open to reveal her essentials. The white plastic of a drugstore bottle peeked out from under the sweater Mrs. Hyrnek had made for her, and she’d just reached for it when— “Did you know that, when a djinni is dismissed, the gates between our world and the Other Place are open for precisely eight-point-five-two seconds?” Kitty whipped around. The room was empty; the disembodied—familiar?—voice already just an echo bouncing off the window panes. Light from streetlamps flickered strangely through wavy glass and water droplets. Somewhere, thunder rolled. “Second—” There it was again, but there was nothing to see, no matter how hard Kitty looked. “—and you must know some of this, having visited the Other Place yourself—but did you know that a human soul is, pardon the pun, in essence the same composition as any spirit? Though with a deep affinity for the earth element that other spirits abhor. And that, if sufficiently stimulated and accustomed to the act, a soul can exit the body—voluntarily or not—and bridge the worlds; even following another spirit on its way away from our earthly plane?” The voice was familiar, and yet...not. Kitty could swear she’d never heard this person speak—a boy with an absolutely unfamiliar accent. And yet? And yet, in her mind she heard an echo… What do you presume…?   “And thirdly: did you know that your absolutely ingenious bit of spellwork holds the Elemental Gates open longer and with more stability than any spell used in the last two thousand years? And that, if a spirit were somehow stuck in a crevice of those gates, your spell provides an opportunity for escape not given in those same two thousand years?" The voice came from behind her now, and this time Kitty turned slowly—mindful of the crick in her neck her last turn had caused, and also not near as fearful. She knew now that there was nothing to fear from this voice. On her bed—or rather, floating slightly above it—sat a teenage boy, visible at last. Yellow lamp light and the watery orange glow of the street lights did not bring up warm highlights on his dark skin as they should have. He was nearly transparent and so washed out the ends of his curly hair faded out of sight. Seemingly unbothered by this, he grinned up at her, flush with the satisfaction of solving a millenia-old conundrum and shining with an emotion Kitty suspected might be gratitude. Cautiously, she returned the smile and—in a very steady voice, thank you very much—quipped, "Ptolemy. Are you aware you're floating three inches above the bedspread?"

Chapter 3: Prague: Hallow's Eve  

“Ptolemy. Are you aware you’re floating three inches above the bedspread?” Ptolemy’s face twisted. “Am I? Irritating. Rekyt made this material form business look so much easier than it is.” “Well,” Kitty said reasonably, moving to sit on the bed as well, “he has had quite a bit more time to practice. And human souls aren���t terribly used to having to keep themselves in a form, are they?” Brows drawn in concentration, Ptolemy drifted downwards about an inch and muttered a distracted, “I suppose so,” before managing to drop the remaining space. Now he was flush with the worn bed quilt, but didn’t make so much as a wrinkle in the fabric. Kitty watched in fascination as, with experimental movements, Ptolemy brought his hand to the bedspread, then pushed it into the bedspread, then waved it in and out a few times. In a sudden flash of mischievous inspiration, she grabbed the drugstore bottle she’d reached for earlier and turned to Ptolemy, lobbing the rattling object with a quip of “Catch!” The boy’s reflexes were not quick—even in the best of circumstances he would have ended up bonked in the nose—but it didn’t matter. The bottle phased through his fingertips, then through his face and chest to land with a clatter on the pillows behind him. Kitty met his unamused stare with a grin, absolutely unrepentant. “Had to check. Scientific method and all that.” Still looking a bit miffed, Ptolemy pulled his foot up to “rest” on the bed and wrapped his arms around the bent-up knee. “If you hadn’t built that spell, I’d be tempted to say you’re the least scientific person I’ve ever known.” Kitty rolled her eyes and leaned back to reach around Ptolemy for the bottle she’d thrown—her joints really did ache after that long conversation’s worth of sitting on the floor. Pulling herself back upright after the extension wasn’t exactly painless either, but she was very sure it would be rude to reach  through her visitor to grab something, especially since she’d been the one to throw it through him in the first place. Deftly, she twisted open the puzzle cap and tapped two tablets into her hand before closing it and trading it for a waterbottle in her travel bag. When she’d done, she met Ptolemy’s interested stare with grin. “You’ve only just met me, but you are pretty close to the truth. I didn’t do much with the technicalities of inventing that spell. It was my idea, and I know how it works and how to monitor it, of course, but the construction was a collaboration between Bartimaeus and two magicians I know back in London. They did most of the actual science.” The water tasted strongly of mineral and metal, filled at the last petrol station her bus had stopped at, but it wasn’t awful and got the job done. The moment also gave her time to consider how the hell to move on from here. There was a boy dead more than two thousand years sitting in her boarding room, and she had no idea how he’d gotten there. He seemed to have minimal purpose other than just...arriving—not indicating he had any message or any particular reason for not being able to move on. If his opening remarks were to be believed, he was back on the mortal plane because of a magical glitch in the system. He’d gotten sucked away before death had fully taken hold. Her musings were interrupted by Ptolemy moving, reaching to pull a book from her bag, then huffing when his fingers slipped right through the corner. “This is not going to work,” he muttered, focus completely on the stubbornly stationary book. He made two more swipes at it before giving up that approach and staring intently at it instead. Nothing happened and he flopped back dramatically to stare at the ceiling, hair falling right through the bed. “This is not at all workable. Kitty, I think I need your help.” “I don’t know why. You seemed to be doing quite well on your own.” “Are you always like this?” Kitty snorted in a very unladylike fashion. “Pretty much. Why do you think Bartimaeus likes me so much?” A moment of contemplation, then: “That does make an unfortunate amount of sense. Still, I really would appreciate a moment of sincerity, this is a matter of utmost importance.” “Utmost importance, huh?” Kitty laid back on the bed with a groan. “What’s that, then?” Ptolemy’s face was solemn as he looked over at her. “There’s someone else who’s stuck, and I promised I’d get them out.” “They can’t just...fall through? Same as you did?” Ptolemy snorted a laugh, serious moment broken. “They could, but they won’t. Too unsure of the results. If we’d had physical forms, I’m pretty sure they would have tackled me to keep me from doing something this reckless.” A day’s hard travel and spellwork dragged Kitty’s eyelids down—an inexorable pull. She hummed in exhausted consideration, then said through a yawn, “I don’t suppose a normal summoning would do the trick, would it?” Her jaw cracked mid-yawn, nearly drowning Ptolemy’s reply of, “Probably not…” Then, “I sense we may need to continue this conversation in the morning?” “Mmhm…” She’d given up the fight to keep her eyes open. “Well then.” His laugh was softer, almost fond. “Until the morning, Kitty.” She tugged her feed up onto the bed and shifted a bit, trying to find a comfortable spot on the lumpy mattress. “G’night, Ptolemy.” Kitty’s last thought before slumber was a deep confusion as to if this was not all just some elaborate dream, caused by magical backlash-induced unconsciousness. Quietly, she hoped not.

Chapter 4: Prague: Saint's Day  

Early morning sunlight cutting across her eyes pulled Kitty to consciousness. She’d forgotten to close the curtain before going to bed. Odd. She was usually quite conscientious about that—woe betide wherever woke her up too early, up to and including the sun itself. Still, last night had been quite strange, hadn’t it? Her fuzzy brain struggled to remember. Movement in the room drew her gaze. A boy, crouched next to the circle she’d forgotten to clean up. Habit moved her mouth before her brain caught up; she mumbled, “Bartimaeus, we don’t do magic science early in the morning, remember?” His face turned, familiar in shape but not in expression, and everything clicked back into place. Ptolemy looked rather bemused. “Does Rekyt take my form often? Or are you just so unused to any company other than his?” Oh. Right. “...both.” Kitty scrubbed at her eyes and pushed messy bedhead from her face as she sat up, the last night’s events reordering themselves in her mind. Two thousand years’ death seemed to have little effect on the boy sitting on the dusty floor of her sleepy, second-floor boarding room in the middle of Prague. He looked at her expectantly, fingers sketching circles on the floor and making no trace in the scuffed dust. With a groan, she flopped back onto the bed. Ptolemy’s intent gaze was still trained on her, she could  feel it, but her too-tired brain wasn’t up to meeting it and thinking through the morning’s problems at the same time. She stared at the cracked plaster ceiling for long moments before sighing heavily. “Alright then. We’ve got your business of ‘utmost importance’ to get to, right?” An affirmative sound, so she continued. “Well, I’ve got some business of importance to get to today as well. You’ve obviously been awake, thinking about this. What do you want to do?” A glance over at Ptolemy proved Kitty’s suspicions—the boy was practically shaking with the effort of not simply spilling all the plans he’d made overnight. Ghosts, apparently, didn’t sleep. She quirked an eyebrow and he immediately began: “We need to summon Rekyt. You said he helped design this circle, and I want to use it as the basis for mine, but I don’t understand a good third of how it’s build. Magic has moved on and—oh, but Kitty this is fascinating, I never could have dreamed—” He stopped, catching Kitty’s second raised eyebrow and pulling himself back on track. “Right. Between us and Rekyt and some intensive research, I think I can put together a spell that will do the trick. So. First: Rekyt; second: library.” Pushing upright once more, Kitty shook her head. “Other way around. Library first, Bartimaeus second.” She continued ahead before he could interrupt. “A summoning, a real one like that? That isn’t a small undertaking for me. I’ll be knackered for the rest of the day afterwards so—unless you figured out how to conduct an entire summoning while insubstantial last night?—we’ll go to the library and printers’ first, then come back with your research and summon Bartimaeus. Agreed?” Ptolemy studied her closely, quietly, and she felt a blush threatening to flood her cheeks. Ridiculous, really. He’d barely been able to  stand  after his trip to the Other Place; she had no business being embarrassed by her trip’s cost of physical stamina in front of him. A long, long staredown later, he nodded. “Agreed.” Good. She stretched and swung her legs off the bed to stand at last. There was a washroom just down the hall, communal for the boarders but Kitty was the only guest at present. She was glad of it—sharing washing up space with strangers was  not  something she wanted on top of everything else. After digging out her toothbrush, she turned to Ptolemy. “Stay here. We don’t know if anyone can see you yet. I’ll be back in a second.” Ptolemy looked just the slightest bit abashed. “Actually, I do know. A little after midnight I may have...taken a stroll? No one else can see me, or hear me.” “Oh. Well then. That’s good to know. I’ll...still be back in a second.” And she stepped briskly into the hall.

***

Ten minutes later—longer than her usual habit but hell if she didn’t need a good five minutes of overwhelmed solitude—Kitty returned to her room to find Ptolemy floating cross-legged a foot off the bedspread, exactly level with the windowsill so he could look out. At the creak of the door, he didn’t turn so much as roll backwards, ending upside down with curls falling to and fading through the bed. Inane as it was, she couldn’t help but grin. Bartimaeus held such a reverence for the memory of his old friend; Kitty wondered if that was the source of his gravitas in the guise, or if the new freedom of insubstantial spirithood was breathing new mischief into an otherwise solemn boy. The grin stayed as she moved to pack up her travel sack once more. She saw the grey chill outside the window around Ptolemy’s inverted form and tugged her jumper from the side of the bag where it’d gotten jammed. It was grey-blue wool and knitted by Jakob’s mother—a gift. She saw Ptolemy’s eyes catch on the textured fabric as she finished tugging it on and offered her arm. “Have you figured out how to touch things yet?” He shook his head but reached out anyway. As expected, his fingers swiped right through it. Less expected was the world-wringing sensation of his fingertips passing through her wrist. Early on in their experiments with the communication spell, Kitty had directly touched their “spectral conduit” to the Other Place, as Mr. Button had called it. Before Bartimaeus had snatched her back, she’d felt her self, her essence, tenuously bound to her body at the best of times, begin to be siphoned out and up and away. It felt like that, except in reverse. Connection was made and into the vacuum of her not-quite-full body flowed another gust of person. She felt him for a moment, entranced and inexorably drawn to the lure of earthen control once again before she was able to batten down all hatches and shove the presence away. With a jerk, Kitty yanked her arm back. She could feel her eyes popped wide in panic as she stared at Ptolemy, who was also wide-eyed but in fascinated joy. “Kitty,”  he breathed, wonder under his words, “Kitty, let me try that again. That. It was… I could have— we could have—”   “No!” Her voice was too loud in the quiet room and Ptolemy flinched. “What? Why? I just want to try it. If we were a bit more careful, I might be able to—” “You might be able to do quite a lot! And you won’t be trying, thank you very much.” His brows furrowed in consternation. “Alright, then. I can try it with someone else, I suppose. I wonder if you need their true name to—” “No, Ptolemy.” She didn’t yell that time—her voice was as flat and cold as London pavement. She cut off Ptolemy’s next attempt at speech with a harsh, chopping motion of her hand. “No. That is an invasion of self no commoner can even attempt to consent to, even if you did ask, which it sounds like you weren’t going to do.” Hideous silhouettes danced behind her eyes, though she tried to push them back. Glowing, demonic eyes in the faces of helpless puppets that haunted her nightmares. Breathe. She just had to breathe through it, just like she did all the other times. Through sheer force of will, her heart rate slowed down to something resembling healthy and she was able to bring her vision back into focus. Ptolemy was staring at her—very human, but also not quite. She forced down a shudder. “Come on. We’re going to the library. I’ll explain why you can never, ever do that, but I’ve only got it in me to do it once, so you’ll have to hear it along with the master printer.” She didn’t wait for an answer, just turned, snatched up her satchel, and headed out the door, closing and locking it behind her. Ptolemy was a ghost, he’d be able to follow just fine. He did. She couldn’t hear him coming behind her, but she now had a disturbingly unerring sense of his location that she hadn’t possessed a moment ago. Possessed. With a shudder, she rubbed the skin of her wrist under the jumper, trying to scrub off the sensation even as she mentally tracked Ptolemy’s progress behind her back. They went in silence like that—Kitty walking at a brisk pace with Ptolemy trailing behind—for nearly ten minutes of winding through dreary streets. Kitty had a map, and directions from the proprietor of the boarding house, which she trusted more. Concentrating on the confusing tangle of twists and turns busied her nervous mind into calm—calm enough that when Ptolemy cleared his throat, her quiet “hmm?” was genuinely amicable once more. “Where is this?” His voice was soft, awed. “I know I’ve...been gone a while, but I’m fairly sure this not Alexandria.” Kitty snorted and replied, “Prague,” before snapping her mouth shut. The street wasn’t busy by any means, but there were still people about who might look sideways at the out-of-place British girl talking to thin air. Quickly, she stepped from the sidewalk to stand under the awning of a cafe. The map made crisp sounds as she unfolded it and brought it up to her face, hiding the movement of her lips as she whispered, “We’re north of Alexandria, by a lot. Across the sea, past Rome, up where we call Eastern Europe, now. I’ll find you a map when we get to the library, yeah? For now, I can’t be talking to myself all the way across the district.” “Right.” He agreed with a quick nod, already distracted by the pastries displayed in the cafe window. Rolling her eyes, Kitty folded the map once more and headed off. The grey above threatened more rain and she quickened her pace. It wasn’t a short walk to the Holy Roman Archive and she’d rather not have to make the last third of the trek getting dripped on. Ptolemy was at her side now, gasping and exclaiming every other second at some new thing he’d glimpsed, and she had to actively suppress a wide smile. Grinning inanely at nothing wasn’t a look she wanted to project either. As they began to emerge from Old Town’s winding alleys, though, the city’s mood began to pick up and match Ptolemy’s joy. They stepped onto the larger, more toured streets around the great Charles Bridge, where tourists and business people alike made their way on foot regardless of the weather. Ahead, the bridge’s towers loomed and, just off to the left, Kitty saw the large buildings of the Klementinum. She made straight for it. The tourist traffic was, thankfully, a bit dimmed by the unpleasant weather and it was only another few minutes walk through ornate, baroque halls and courtyards blanketed in autumn-hued ivy before they reached the Holy Roman Archive. Home of what was left of Prague’s magical lore, it was  also adjacent to the most influential of the Czech Publishing Guild’s members: Petřín Printers. They handled all of the magical texts to come out of Prague; all of the magical knowledge of Eastern Europe flowed through this print house and into the Archive. Kitty stepped past the enticing hush of the Archive, hoping Ptolemy would follow since she couldn’t physically drag him like she was afraid might be necessary. A glance to the side showed the boy’s feet were indeed dragging, eyes gazing with longing at the doors. “Soon. We’ll go there next.” He followed with an insubstantial sigh. “Yes, alright.” Kitty blinked. She hadn’t meant to say that aloud. It was so quiet in these halls, anyone could hear. The lobby of Petřín’s was unassumingly quiet, but Kitty wasn’t fooled. The walls hummed with the aura of a spell, most likely a silencing charm to keep the workings of the printers from disturbing the immediately nearby library. At a desk just inside, a man sat scribbling in a ledger with a fountain pen but he looked up at Kitty’s approach. His cheerful greeting was in Czech—thankfully one of the phrases she’d picked up staying with Jakob and his family. She replied in kind, following up with a somewhat abashed, “English? That was about all the Czech I know.” The man laughed and nodded. “How can I help you?” “I need to speak with Mr. Pavel Vlastislav? I’m here on rather urgent magician’s business, as well as with a delivery from Karel Hyrnek, of Hyrnek and Sons. I think he sent word ahead that I was coming?” “Hmmm, let me take a look.” The clerk flipped through his ledger, then ducked behind his desk to grab another book. As he did, Kitty looked around and saw Ptolemy studying a world map to the left, artistically rendered and nearly as large as the wall it was painted on. She couldn’t see his face, but she had an idea as to what it might look like, and what he was going to sound like in three…two...one… Right on cue, as the clerk popped back up into view, Ptolemy’s voice flooded into her ear as if he were standing right next to her and not ten feet away. “Kitty. Kitty this is— Is this the whole world? The entire globe? Have people truly been to all of these places?” The clerk was chatting at her as he flipped through his notes with Kitty nodding along distractedly, trying to pay attention as Ptolemy continued, “—and this map! It’s nearly as good as the cartographers of Alexandria’s work! Rekyt described many of these places to me, but they were not all in places I could plot on an available map… You said we’re in...Europe? To the east—oh! Yes, this must be it! You’re right, we are much, much further north. I wonder—” “Ptolemy! A minute? I need to focus,” was what Kitty thought to herself in a moment of irritation, mouth clamped tight over the words, but the boy stopped rambling immediately. “Ah, my apologies.” Well, that was fun. Maybe that mishap back at the room had been good for something after all? It was the only thing she could think of that might have caused such a strange phenomenon… Distracted, she had to once again refocus on what the clerk, Radim, was saying. Frankly, she’d missed what he’d last said, but then he was standing and ushering her through a door on the right and chattering about the privilege of being able to see inside the prestigious print house and Kitty was tuning him right back out. She was here on business, not to see the inner workings of yet another magical publishing shop. This was her third one in the past year; they all sort of looked the same at this point. Pavel was in his office when they arrived, Radim knocking a quick rap on the doorway before entering. The man inside stood, head still tilted towards a jet black sparrow perched on his shoulder—the imp’s presence explained ease with which he greeted her, a heavily accented but cheerful “Ms. Jones!” before Radim even had time to speak. He and Radim had a quick exchange in Czech too fast to catch, then Radim stepped out and Pavel gestured her to enter. “Come in, come in, Ms. Jones. You have news and a package from old Karel in London, hm? Please, sit down and tell me why he needs send such a lovely lady friend, rather than this news in the post.” Kitty swallowed. This was the hardest part, always the hardest part, and she’d already done it twice. Out of her bag she pulled a plain book, bound in brown cloth and printed on scrap: a manuscript printed by Mr. Hyrnek. There was also a pamphlet. Assuming today went well and Pavel accepted her request, she would need write her friends back in London and request him to send her another copy before she left Prague. Hands shaking, she set the book on Pavel’s desk and took a deep breath. Ptolemy perched on the edge of the desk, invisible to Pavel and watching her intently. Another deep breath, trying to dislodge the shaking behind her breastbone. Her trimmed down, bare bones narrative of the London Disaster was practically recited by rote now. Only by keeping it clipped, clinical, and precise was she able to get through the worst of the story without stuttering, but she’d told the story before and she’d tell it now. Unfortunately, the shuddering terror of the hybrids needed to be the focus of the tale—that’s why she was here. Magicians, the humans who practiced the enslavement of spirits, needed to know what happened from a first-hand source, told with compassion and urgency, or they would simply take the whole incident as either fairytale, or use it as a way to further demonize both the British Empire and the spirits themselves. If this came out wrong, the enslavement of spirits would worsen, not move closer to eradication. When she’d finished, wrapping up with a quick note of the Interim Council’s formalization of an integrated Parliament and the supposed plans for the country, both members of her audience were silent. Staring. This was a normal reaction, she’d gotten it from the print masters in both Paris and Madrid, and she didn’t blame them or Pavel. It was a lot to hear. It’d been a lot more to live through. Eventually, Pavel spoke. “That is...a harrowing tale. We’d heard of some horror from across the channel when the empire broke two years ago, but to think…” He swallowed. “Yes, this needs to be recorded. I assume this manuscript is the account?” Kitty nodded. “Yes, originally published by Hyrnek and Sons, but we all agreed that something like this should be shared. If nothing else, please, we request you bring this to the Archivist and have it included in the archive. If you are willing to print and distribute it, that is for the best, but I understand—” “I will, of course, do my best to ensure it is placed in the archives. And we will see what can be done about distribution.” Reaching out—just missing Ptolemy, who jumped away before his arm could be brushed—Pavel picked up the pamphlet. “And this?” “A list of the spirits who perished in the disaster, to update the newest editions.” And maybe a few others, but who was to know? Pavel flipped through it and Kitty stood, scooping up her satchel once more. Alarmed, Pavel stood as well. “Ms. Jones! Surely you don’t mean to leave so soon?” Exhaustion weighed her voice, two haunted years dogging her steps. “I’m sorry, Mr. Vlastislav, but I need to be going. I’ll leave the address I’m staying at with Radim and I’ll be in town for a few weeks. Find me there if you need anything.” That was the nice thing about her situation—after all the horrors and all the insanity and quite literally visiting another plane of existence, social niceties were near the bottom of her priority list. With a parting nod, she let herself out of the office without another word. Ptolemy was silent as she retraced their steps back to the lobby, still silent as she left her contact information with Radim, silent all the way until they’d reached the Archive once more. He didn’t suggest a book to start with, so Kitty made her way to one of the study tables and pulled another book from her satchel, rather than any of the shelves. Delicate pages with scorched edges crinkled as she turned them, scanning the handwritten translations in the margins. She’d been offered a fresh copy of Ptolemy’s Apocrypha with an English translation printed in, but Button’s book was special, and translating it with Bartimaeus’s help was a good memory. Credit to his perturbation, when Ptolemy finally spoke it wasn’t about the book she held. “I’m sorry. What happened… I can’t imagine. I didn’t realize the kind of trauma what I did would cause you.” “You couldn’t have,” Kitty replied diffidently, blithe tone slicking her thoughts to icy smoothness. “Like I said, it’s something no commoner would be able to understand, and most magicians too. The only ones who could come close are those of us who were there, and even then… The one who would best understand the bond you were trying to attempt is— Well, he’s dead.” Silence again, then: “And you? Would that make you the closest living authority?” “Actually, no.” She was able to look up and smile. “That would be Bartimaeus, so let’s hit the books and then you can ask him yourself, yeah?”

Chapter 5: Somewhere: Sometime 

 4,752,256

Dread emptiness pressed in around him. Is this how his friend had felt, all those years alone? When the spirits passed—back and forth and back and forth—he could sense their movement, know their passing, but there was no sound to hear, no sight to see. Even this place he was stuck, a place he felt should have something of substance to perceive was just...nothing. To stave back the madness, he began to study the passing spirits with whatever senses were available to him. Thousands upon thousands passed before his examination, and on every few he focused his attention. Going one way, they seemed to mournfully coalesce from liquid freedom into a speeding, aerodynamic form to rocket through the other side of the gate; coming the other, solid misery flared and flittered out in joyous reaching for the far bank. Nowhere did the strange, fluid channel appear again. Only cold, clinical, slippery-walled openings to pull the beings to and from. He’d reached out to one once, only to find himself sliding off, lacking whatever was needed to be included in the transference. Probably for the best. Once the temporary madness left him, his logic reasserting itself over the crushing loneliness, he drew away from the traffic in fear. To be loosed in the fearful current without anchor or guide? No, he couldn’t… Or at least he thought that. And thought that. And thought that until he came to the point—singular and horrifying—that he could.   His watching took on a new edge: analytical, searching. Time barely existed here, but some amount of it had passed before something caught his attention. Another direct stretch, calling for a specific being, but something about it was...softer. It was inviting but wary, familiar but fearful, like a stranger singing a long-buried song from childhood. Carefully, not flinging himself with abandon like someone had, he approached. It was tenuous, as all of these were—temporal and not meant to last long, unlike the fluid path they’d seen before—and this one was even more ephemeral than most. Holes in the weave, it could have been described. From one end, movement came, barrelling closer and closer and...familiar. Yes, the being speeding down was definitely a construction of substance he recognized but couldn’t put a name to. Names were hard here. Names were hard, but suddenly decisions were not. As the spirit sped past, he impressed some effort upon the pulling force, imposing himself on the construct until he fell through in a flurry of movement that he could suddenly feel, not just perceive in an abstract sort of way. He could feel it and he still felt it as he tumbled through. The portal did exactly as all the others did. He felt himself being compacted and compressed, separate from the being it was actually meant for thankfully, as he’d hopped in a good moment past it, but the bonds were ill-fitting. A familiar word that wasn’t his word. And so, when both he and the other tumbled out the other side, he felt himself spinning and drifting, formless and dazed as his traveling partner took form in a circle.

Chapter 6: Prague: Saint's Day  

In a brilliant bit of foresight, the first thing Kitty asked Bartimaeus to do once he’d arrived was cast a nexus about her room to silence all noise coming from within. A good move, as her explanation of the situation first garnered her a bemused “what?” Followed by some silence. Then some contemplation of the figure who was making a concentrated effort to appear on the mortal plane to more than just Kitty. Then followed by a roar of the same word that had come before. There was a lot of yelling for a short time. Possibly some crying as well, not that Kitty would ever tell. But when it was done, and all explained and settled and understood, she might have asked Bartimaeus to remove the nexus. Absentmindedly, she forgot. This turned out to be a good thing as, five hours later, both she and Bartimaeus stared at Ptolemy over their sketches of runes, figures, and half-circle diagrams in consternation. Together, their query was definitely loud enough to have been heard by the good matron downstairs. “You don’t have their name?! ” Kitty groaned and set her pencil aside. They’d been at this for hours, and only now did Ptolemy mention he was lacking this key piece of their puzzle? Bartimaeus looked just as crestfallen in his guise of a young, dark skinned man, wearing a traditional desert kilt and bedecked with a necklace of amethyst, but also not terribly surprised. “Ptolemy, my friend. I always knew your disinclination for names would come back to bite us in inconvenient places. Admittedly, this is the furthest situation from what I could have imagined, but still.” The ghostly boy in question was not meeting either of their gazes. He was staring at the bedspread he sat on, stunned silent. Then quietly, obviously not in reaction to what either of them had said, he breathed a word Kitty had never heard in her life. Bartimaeus, however, choked on his non-existent spit, indicating that it was probably something foul. After a few more moments of unintelligible invective that had Bartimaeus’s jaw on the floor, Ptolemy muttered, “I can’t believe I forgot. We were there for what must have been years, how did I not ask? I promised. I’m a magician, I know how important names are. How could I have forgotten?” Kitty winced. They had maybe been a bit harsh. “It’s alright, I’m sure we can figure something out…” Ptolemy stood up and began to pace, making circuit after circuit of the tiny room. Amusingly, every time he turned a corner, he also stepped upwards about an inch, beginning to spiral upwards as he muttered to himself. Kitty glanced over at Bartimaeus, who shrugged, leaned over and whispered, “Don’t look at me, this is new. He didn’t used to pace.” “Hmm…” A ghost pacing was a strange phenomenon in that you couldn’t hear them, the fact that they were pacing of above your head at this point notwithstanding. It was painfully quiet. Kitty and Bartimaeus went back to fiddling with their designs, pencil and quill scratching loudly in the silence, but still working around a glaringly blank space where, in all of them, a name had to be placed. “I need a calendar!” Ptolemy’s voice, loud in the room, had Kitty jumping nearly a foot out of her chair. He was suddenly right next to her, face intent and determined. “I had a formula, I just need to do the calculations and we can figure out when my friend arrived. From there— Well, only a few specific circumstances could cause this, so maybe someone will have heard about it happening?” “Well, it’s somewhere to start…” Bartimaeus hedged, and Kitty agreed with the hesitant tone. How on earth were they going to sus out a single death of magical happenstance, even if they could narrow it down to an exact date? Kitty caught Ptolemy’s gaze again. There was a light, one she felt mirrored in her own past. Hope. And hell if she could ignore that. She’d wrestled demons, ransacked governments, and crossed dimensions for a hope like that, and well—Ptolemy had been the source of a lot of that hopeful vision. It was the least she could do to try and help him in turn. As Ptolemy still hadn’t managed enough substance to actually touch anything, Kitty was the one to walk to her duffel and dig out yet  another   book. She was becoming quite the librarian herself, these days. This one was worn, thick, full of cramped handwriting with a ribbon bookmark between the last few pages. Returning to the small table, she set it down. “Not a calendar, but close. My journal goes back two years, almost. Think your friend showed up in about that timeframe?” Ptolemy nodded firmly. “It couldn’t have been longer than that. Now, let me just…” He trailed off, fingers tracing invisible numbers on the table. With his brows drawn together in a focused frown, Kitty thought privately that he’d never looked less like Bartimaeus’s replication. Similarly, the fond expression Bartimaeus watched him with was a brand new thing to see on the spirit’s face, and something warmed in her. For the span of about an hour, a long time ago, Kitty had cared about a djinni and a boy more than anyone else in her probably-about-to-end life. This wasn’t the same, couldn’t ever be the same, but she liked it anyway. Across the table, Ptolemy was now rattling off numbers to Bartimaeus, who flipped through the journal pages—first in large swaths, then fewer and fewer at a time. Closer and closer to the front cover until— “That’s the end of it.” Both of them were staring down at the first entry on the first page of Kitty’s journal—a date, five words, and a tiny shard of glass taped to the paper. Bartimaeus continued, “How much further back?” “Two days.”   Kitty looked at them blankly. They both looked back—Ptolemy glowing with the triumph of a puzzle solved, Bartimaeus with...something. Probably the same something building somewhere in the pit of Kitty’s stomach. “There’s no way,” she managed eventually, voice hoarse, throat suddenly dust dry. Bartimaeus’s reply was just a nervous chuckle while Ptolemy glanced between them, his high fading into confusion. “What’s the matter?” It took Kitty two tries to clear the lump from her throat. “Erm, well. You remember what I said about the only person who would understand possession by a spirit being dead? And what Bartimaeus said about the Glass Palace?” “Yes?” “That all happened two days before my first journal entry. I didn’t think to start recording events until— I was a right mess, basically, until then.” Understanding dawned on Ptolemy’s face and brought a smile to his face. The smile grew, bit by bit as he looked between his two friends. “Well then, shall we try? It’s our best guess, and the worst that will happen is it doesn’t work.” They both watched as he breezed over to where Kitty and Bartimaeus had left their sketches. A moment of careful study, then he pointed to Bartimaeus’s page—the djinni smirked at Kitty, who stuck out her tongue. “This one. Let’s try this one.” He bounced on his toes, each bounce taking him higher into the air. “Come on! I still can’t hold the chalk, help me draw this!” So they did. The dingy, dusty boarding room was a flurry of activity for long minutes. Bartimaeus did most of the kneeling and drawing while Kitty held the string guides and lit the few candles they needed for the spell. Ptolemy supervised, directing them in drawing a half-circle diagram. Lines stretched out from it in rays, similar to Kitty’s communication spell, but with a few slight adjustments. More geometric than ornate, the completed spell was chalked innocuously on the floor as Bartimaeus scratched out the last few runes. At the apex of the arch, a blank space had been left. Almost reverently they all knelt, Bartimaeus handing Kitty the chalk as she regarded the bare patch of floorboards before bringing the chalk down. Her handwriting was nowhere near as calligraphic as Bartimaeus’s—her chicken scratch legible but not beautiful as she spelled the name out: Nathaniel   Chalk still in hand, she traced under the letters with a finger, the spell still cold and not yet activated. Together, Ptolemy and Bartimaeus reached out as well—and then another transparent finger traced along the top of the word. Glancing up, her gaze met with blue eyes, happy and calm in a way she’d never seen them while he was alive. “That’s what it was. I guess I just needed someone to write it down before I could form up properly. Took your time about it, didn’t you?” Surprise jerked her hand and brought her in contact with all three of the other beings in the room. Her vision spun and everything was very mixed up for a very confusing moment. Kitty was, for seconds or hours, not just Kitty anymore. Four souls rushed around and around in a feedback loop, bringing nausea to a body that wasn’t even really hers to experience it. It was like being back in the Other Place. Actually, it felt exactly like that, and the similarities echoed through their loop loud enough to bring the chaos to a balance. Carefully, they all extracted themselves from the morass—all but Nathaniel at least understanding the mechanics of the feat—and another moment brought Kitty solitude in her mind once more. She had fallen onto her backside, legs twisted awkwardly, and three beings of unearthly substance lay sprawled nearby. On seeing their mess, pushed up on her elbows, a giggle bubbled up from her throat. Then another, and another, until she couldn’t hold them back and collapsed onto the dusty floor, laughing until their was no more breath in her body. Around her, Ptolemy joined in first, then Nathaniel, then Bartimaeus, until they were all cackling like maniacs for long minutes.  Good thing the silencing nexus is still still up, Kitty thought faintly, which sent her and her friends off into more gales of laughter. They laughed until all their surprised energy had been spent in joy. Jittery adrenaline rush settled to a wondrous warmth in Kitty’s chest as she looked at her friends. There was no telling what they would need to do now. But as far as she was concerned, it didn’t matter. They were together, no one was dead in the traditional sense of the word, and the world hadn’t tried to end for two whole years. She didn’t get sappy often, but today seemed like the day to try—the most pleasant Hallows Eve and Saints’ Day she’d ever experienced, by far.

[glow-worm]

Close Call - Hurt/Comfort TAZ fic

Taako suddenly collapses on a mission; Lup wears herself out watching him suffer and trying to keep him alive.

-------

“Pick up the pace, broski, you’re lagging.”

Lup’s voice called back to her brother, though she did not turn to look at him. Taako was, in fact, trailing several feet behind the rest of the group—falling behind even Merle.

“Yeah, yeah,” Taako replied, sounding a little worn out. “I’ll catch up. You guys go.”

“You can’t be tired already,” Magnus called teasingly, far ahead of the others. “We just started.”

“I have a migraine...or something,” Taako answered, a hand covering half of his face.

Their group today consisted of Magnus, Lup, Merle, and Taako. Captain Davenport, Barry, and Lucretia had gone on a separate mission. The crew had received several leads about the potential location of the Light of Creation, and the Hunger was due in about three weeks. So they split the party to investigate two different areas.

This plane was not too different from their own, save for the fact that the inhabitants seemed to only be humans, and was currently in the winter season. The crew wore their red IPRE robes to stay warm in the chilly weather.

They were exploring the depths of a cavern. The twisting tunnels were damp, and lit only by a few torches. Lup, Taako, and Merle had summoned some light to at least help Magnus, though the rest had no problem with their darkvision.

Besides the torches and a few empty wooden crates, the cavern had been empty.

About an hour into their descent, however, Magnus sprung a trap. A few rusty arrows shot out from the cavern wall—they realized after the fact that many of the projectiles were stuck in the mechanism and did not manage to fire—the team for the most part managed to avoid them all. One almost hit Lup’s shoulder, but Taako was able to act quickly enough to just smack it out of the way, coming away with only the smallest of scrapes which he barely even noticed.

“Shitty trap,” Taako had quipped.

“Yeah, shit, guys,” Lup laughed. “How are we gonna solve this cave puzzle?”

“Guess we have to turn back...”

Another hour or so had passed since then, and they hadn’t set off any more traps. Magnus had noticed another set of arrows in the wall, but they seemed to be rusted in place.

“I think this cave might be bigger than we thought,” Magnus called again, so far ahead of the group that the other three could not see him. “Did we bring any snacks?”

Lup scoffed, “Yeah I got a sack full of Luna bars—no. Taako and I can just conjure something up if we need to, but it’s way too early for that.”

“...I’m cool with taking a break,” Taako offered quietly.

“A break from what?” Lup countered. “We haven’t done anything.”

Merle looked over his shoulder to see Taako, then raised an eyebrow and stopped.

Taako’s face was pale, his forehead sprinkled with sweat. His eyes were unfocused and glassy. He had moved to the side of the tunnel, and walked forward slowly with one hand against the cavern wall. Overall, he seemed exhausted.

“You alright there, bud?” Merle asked.

Taako stopped and leaned against the wall.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Fine.”

Merle pursed his lips, unsure. “Hey, Lup—Taako’s not looking so great.”

Now, Lup finally turned around.

She knew immediately that something was wrong. Taako could be over-dramatic sometimes, but this was clearly something beyond laziness. She backtracked, walking quickly toward her brother without further hesitation.

“Magnus,” Lup called. “Come back. We’re taking a break.”

“What?” Magnus’s voice echoed through the tunnel, but no one replied.

Taako took a knee, evidently having a hard time keeping himself up. Merle stood next to him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Taako mumbled. “I don’t know what’s…” He trailed off, cradling his face with one hand.

“Did you get hurt?” Merle questioned, more confused than concerned.

Taako shook his head no in response, but made no attempt to speak or clarify.

Lup reached the two and kneeled down next to her brother, her shoulders raising up tight with anxiety. She looked at him apprehensively as her hands began to fidget.

“Maybe he got the flu,” Merle offered.

“He was fine this morning...you were fine this morning, right Taako?” Lup asked.

He did not answer.

“Should...should you heal him?” Lup asked Merle.

“Heal what?” Merle replied. “I don’t know what I’m healing. You want me to spend a spell slot on a guess when we have this whole cave ahead of us?”

Lup placed a hand on her brother’s head, but gave Merle a look of disdain.

“Let’s just stop for a few minutes and see what happens,” Merle offered. “This came on real fast. Maybe he just needs a little rest."

“I guess...” Lup trailed off, unsure. She bit her lip and stood up as Magnus reached them, then she grabbed on to one of the wooden crates nearby and pulled it closer to the group. She then used a cantrip to set it aflame and keep the party warm.

Magnus sat down near the fire while Lup and Merle watched Taako closely.

Taako was fully sitting as well now, with both legs tucked to the side of him. Lup joined him, and carefully lifted his hat off his head and placed it on the ground beside her. She then gently pulled him close so that his head rested on her shoulder.

“You were able to meditate last night, right?” Lup questioned quietly. “I could have sworn you were trancing.”

Taako did not answer, but he finally pulled his hand away from his face. His eyes were closed, and both hands were folded in his lap.

“Guess not...” Lup muttered.

Merle handed her a cloth and a water skein. Lup took them, dampened the cloth and wiped the sweat from Taako’s forehead.

“He’s burning up,” Lup pointed out, surprised. “I don’t get it. He was fine when we came in here, wasn’t he?”

Merle shrugged, and began to flip through his bible in search of answer. Lup felt Taako lean into her more, and she tensed to support his weight. It was very unusual for him to tolerate looking helpless in front of his friends.

Lup began to worry. “We can rest as long as you need to,” she said to her brother. “But what kind of illness comes on this fast? Are you sure you didn’t get hurt?”

Again Taako did not respond, and Lup only heard the soft slow breaths commonly heard when elves are deep in meditation.

Lup’s brow furrowed, and she took Taako by the shoulders and gently repositioned him so that his head was in her lap. Doing this, concern gave way to fear—as her brother did not stir at all. She tried to rouse him.

“Taako?” She pressed. “Hey.”

Lup shook him gently by the shoulders.

“Taako?” She asked again, her voice cracking slightly. She swallowed hard.

“He’s not trancing,” Lup said to no one in particular. “I can’t wake him up.”

Merle kneeled down to check him out.

“Aw, hell,” the cleric grumbled, taking a step back to continue thumbing through his book with a little more urgency. “He’s unconscious.”

“I was only gone for a minute,” Magnus said, irritated. “What happened?”

“I—I don’t know,” Lup answered. “Merle, if he’s unconscious then he’s not going to heal at all by himself.”

“I know, I know,” Merle said. “I’m seeing what I’ve got.”

“It’s not a good idea to split the party,” Magnus pondered aloud, thinking about their mission. “I doubt the Light is in here anyway. Maybe we should just turn back, and we can come back if Cap’nport’s group didn’t find it.”

“Well, I’ll heal Taako up and we’ll take it from there,” Merle replied.

“Hang on,” Magnus warned. “If we don’t know what happened to him, who’s to say it can’t happen to us? You can heal him but then if we keep going further in and you come down with it we’re all screwed.”

They all paused to think about their next course of action.

“Okay,” Lup began, breaking the silence after a few minutes. “Let’s just get Taako back on his feet and then get out of here. We can come back another day if we have to.”

“Alright,” Merle responded. “I guess I’ll cast lesser restoration...for an illness? But if that’s not really the problem, that’d be a wasted spell.”

“Maybe I should just double check that he didn’t get hurt somehow,” Lup said quietly. She began examining him, looking for any sign of blood or broken bones, when suddenly she froze.

She watched his chest for a few moments, eyes wide.

“He’s—Merle, he’s not breathing. “ Lup stammered in a panic. “He’s not breathing.”

Magnus stood up, shocked, while Merle quickly dropped down next to Taako. Lup’s hand went right to the side of her brother’s neck.

No pulse.

“Merle—Merle, do something—please!”

Without further hesitation, Merle cast Spare the Dying.

A soft white glow flowed from Merle’s bible into Taako’s body, and Taako let out a soft gasp and a few ragged breaths before his normal breathing resumed.

Lup let out a sigh of relief, tears pricking her eyes. She grabbed tight to her brother’s IPRE robe.

“What the actual fuck was that, Taako?” Lup muttered under her breath.

He was alive, but still unconscious.

“He’s stable for now,” Merle explained, on edge. “But if we don’t figure out what did this and heal it, he’ll just die again.”

Lup grabbed Taako’s hand, fearing for her brother’s life. Sure, they were basically immortal and death at this point would just mean not seeing Taako for about three weeks—but it was still not something she wanted to go through. She had been with him the whole time—how could she let her brother get into such a bad condition without her even noticing?

When she grabbed his hands, however, something caught her eye.

One hand seemed normal, but one was stiff and colder than the other, the veins raised.

Lup cautiously turned over the afflicted hand so that the palm was facing up.

At the center of the palm was the smallest scrape, which was atop a raised and throbbing purple mass. From the mass spread Taako’s veins, which were also enlarged and deep purple.

“What the hell is that?” Magnus asked.

Lup looked to Merle, afraid.

With that, Merle cast Detect Poison.

“Alright,” he said. “Well, good news is he’s not just sick. Bad news is, that’s definitely poison.”

“Can you...do anything for that?” Magnus asked.

Merle shook his head. “Not much. I can heal him, but I can tell this is a weird poison we don’t have back home. Basically it’s going to just keep doing damage until it loses potency. I’ll heal him now so he won’t die again, but I’m going to have to heal him again in a few hours even if I get him back to full health now.”

“Shit,” Lup lamented.

“When did he get poisoned?” Magnus asked.

Lup paused for a moment, then her jaw dropped with realization. She pressed a palm to her face.

“That shitty arrow trap,” she moaned. “He slapped one away from me. It must have nicked him.”

“Guess that’s why there weren’t any more traps,” Merle said. “They only needed the one.”

Magnus sighed. “Alright, well, let’s just head back to the ship, then. That way Merle can just heal him whenever and not have to worry about us.”

Magnus carried Taako out of the cavern, which luckily wasn’t too far from the Starblaster. Once they were safe, Lup cast Sending to get a message out to Barry—warning the other group that their cleric was going to be preoccupied and that they might consider heading back early.

---

Taako was out for two full days.

Thankfully, Merle was able to heal him when necessary—so the crew didn’t need to use any of their limited supply of potions.

For the first twelve hours or so after getting back to the Starblaster, not much happened. They had put him in a spare room that functioned as a medical bay when they happened to need one, and had him lay on a bed with Lup sitting next to it, constantly monitoring him. She stayed by his side with a water basin and a cloth, just trying to make him comfortable. Taako’s health would drop, and Merle would save him. Then Taako would worsen, and Merle would save him again. And so the cycle went on, with Taako suffering silently, until Merle ran out of spell slots and had to take a long rest to recover them.

Davenport’s team came back after Merle had already gone to bed. They were dismayed to see that Taako’s condition had not changed. However, the silver lining was that they had in fact found the Light of Creation—so they could use the last three weeks of the cycle to rest.

Davenport went to sleep shortly after checking up on Taako, as he’d been injured slightly on their mission. Lucretia and Barry stayed up for a few hours to keep Lup company, but Lucretia ended up falling asleep in a chair—which prompted Lup to send both to bed.

Skipping one night of meditation was taxing, but doable.

Another full day passed, and by the second night Taako no longer seemed peaceful. His breathing grew heavy, and he appeared to be in pain. He clearly was getting worse, not better.

Taako tossed and turned, grimacing.

Lup’s heart broke for him, and she wiped his forehead with a damp cloth again.

“I’m here, Taako,” Lup reassured. “Hang in there.”

There was a soft knock on the door.

“Come in,” Lup answered, dejected.

The door opened slowly as Lup dipped the cloth back into the bowl of ice water, her gaze locked on her brother.

“You should try to get some rest, Lup,” Barry said gently.

It was late into the second night, nearly four in the morning. Lup looked up at her friend, dark circles carved under her lightless eyes.

“No—I can’t leave him like this,” Lup responded flatly. “Merle’s sleeping, I have to make sure Taako stays stable...I wish I could do something for the pain, though...”

“You’ve done your part,” Barry assured. “And I promise I will take care of him. Now please, even just for two or three hours, try to get some meditation in?”

Lup shook her head. “I’ve never seen him like this, Barry. Merle said that the poison isn’t meant to be in living beings for this long. It works by numbing everything—there was no struggle at first, he just seemed tired and then he stopped breathing and— and that’s how it’s supposed to work, but if you survive and it stays in your system long enough your body tries to fight it off and the numbness goes away and—and it’s just pain.”

Barry started to reach a hand out to touch her cheek, but faltered and retracted it. Instead, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Merle also said Taako’s going to sweat it out and pull through.”

“But he doesn’t know that,” Lup countered. “He could tell how the poison worked, sure, but this is a weird plane with weird plants that we don’t have, and—and there are no elves here—and there’s no way he can know for certain what’s going to happen.”

“And neither do you,” Barry said delicately. “So why don’t you lie down or at least close your eyes, and I absolutely promise I will snap you out of your trance if anything changes.”

Lup bit her lip, considering the offer, but looked again to her haggard brother whose rough breathing and trembling hands made her heart sink.

“No. I’ll rest when he’s out of danger. Besides, between the two of us I’m not the one who needs to sleep at night. Why are you awake?”

“Cause I’m worried!” Barry exclaimed in a whisper. “You’ve been at this for two days, Lup, you’re gonna crash and burn.”

“You’re worried about me?” Lup asked, almost amused.

“Yes?” Barry replied instantly, exasperated. He paused a moment, his cheeks turning red. “We all are. I mean don’t get me wrong, I am worried sick about Taako but yes I am definitely concerned about you too!”

“You don’t need to be,” Lup answered, trying to muster a smile.

Barry sighed deeply. He pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose, pushing up on his glasses.

Taako let out the quietest of whimpers as his body tensed; he grit his teeth and his hands gripped tightly at the sheets underneath him.

Lup took his hand in hers and waited for the wave to pass. This time, Barry drew the rag from the basin and dabbed around Taako’s face.

“Thank you,” Lup murmured.

Barry returned the cloth to its place, then shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“I can’t leave him, Barry,” Lup explained quietly. “Taako...he talks a big game, but if he wakes up and he’s alone and hurt...”

“He won’t be alone,” Barry reminded her.

“I have to be here if he wakes up,” she said. “When he wakes up. Please, try to understand.”

“I do,” Barry resigned. “But if you don’t pick a time to rest, your body’s going to pick it for you. Can we compromise?”

“Maybe.”

“Just trance right here, and I’ll be here too. And if he so much as moves a finger I will alert you.”

“Counter offer,” Lup began. “You go get at least six hours of human sleep because it’s the middle of the night, and when the sun is up and you are rested I will let you take over for one hour.”

“Two hours.”

“Hour and a half, but I stay here.”

“Deal.”

And so Barry went off to bed, pausing before he left the room as if he had something to say, but left without another word.

Lup did not keep up her end of the bargain, however, because the next afternoon Lucretia came into the room, already fully dressed and bundled for the winter weather.

“I’m going to head into town,” Lucretia stated. “There’s an apothecary. Maybe they’ll know something about this poison. There has to be something more we can do.”

Barry had come to take over for Lup not long after Lucretia left.

“We had a deal,” Barry pointed out.

Lup, looking worse for wear after two skipped nights of rest, shook her head.

“Lucretia went out to look for answers—she won’t be gone long; I want to hear what she has to say.”

“So I’ll let you know when she’s back,” Barry bargained, frustrated.

They argued more, and Lup finally gave in—somewhat. She sat on the floor, legs crossed and folded, and closed her eyes. Every time Barry checked on her, however, she had one eye open and was clearly alert.

“C’mon, Lup,” Barry pleaded after fifteen minutes or so. “Try to get some rest.”

Lup stood up and began pacing. Barry sighed, and let it go.

Half an hour later, Lucretia was back. She held a small vial and a pocket knife close to her chest. She seemed troubled. Merle stood behind her, incredulous.

“I have an antidote,” Lucretia announced unceremoniously.

“Great,” Lup exclaimed with a smile of relief. The smile disappeared, however, when she saw Lucretia’s apprehensive face.

Lup stepped back, allowing Lucretia and Merle to get close to Taako.

“It’s like a living poison,” Lucretia explained with urgency. “That’s why Merle couldn’t fully get rid of it. He would neutralize the poison but then more would be released. And it builds up over time. It’s like an organism and it consumes decaying matter, but because Taako didn’t die it just stayed in his system and multiplied and expanded, and that’s what caused the pain.”

“Okay,” Barry said. “So you have something that will kill the poison?”

“Yes…” Lucretia spoke hesitantly. “But the apothecary said…the process is really hard on the body. They said that…people who survive wish they hadn’t.”

Lup began to fidget with her hands.

“It’s actually a really common poison here,” Lucretia went on. “So common, however, that the antidote is usually administered within an hour of contact. Two full days have passed…the apothecary said that’s practically unheard of, and the only way he’s going to recover from the process is by sleeping a lot.”

“But he can’t sleep,” Lup said, monotone. “We can’t sleep.”

“Well…exactly,” Lucretia answered delicately. “I’m not sure if this is going to work.”

“But I think it’s worth a shot,” Merle said. “I can’t keep up this routine for much longer, and neither can you, Lup. And I hate to say it, because I want to avoid this at all costs, but…if this goes south, he’s not gone forever. The cycle’s almost over. We can’t let him suffer like this.”

Lup sat down and buried her face in her hands. Everyone remained silent for a few minutes.

“It’s your decision, Lup,” Lucretia said. “We won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. But he’s definitely not going to get better if we don’t do this.”

Lup shook her head and stood up.

“Okay,” she resigned. “Okay. Tell me what to do.”

“We have to make an opening where the poison made first contact,” Lucretia explained. “And then just pour this over it. And…try to keep him comfortable while the antidote does its stuff.”

“Okay,” Lup nodded, and reached out her hand. “I’ll do it. I want to do it.”

Barry looked back and forth between Lup and Lucretia, looking unsure as Lucretia handed the pocket knife to Lup.

Wordlessly, Lup knelt down next to the bed and made a small incision on the mass in Taako’s hand. He winced slightly. The wound oozed blood and a purple substance that she had cleaned from his hands several times over the past two days.

With that, Lucretia stepped closer and uncorked the vial.

“Barry,” Lucretia commanded gently. “Hold him down if you have to. Merle, get ready.”

Lup pressed Taako’s wrist down onto the bed while Lucretia poured the potion into the wound. The potion sizzled and fizzed as the purple substance mixed in with Taako’s blood evaporated.

Taako’s hand tensed and trembled, but for a few moments that was all that happened. Lup let out a deep breath, somewhat relieved. Lucretia, however, watched Taako closely—very unsure.

Half a minute later, Taako grimaced and gasped. His body tensed, then he bolted upright with a blood-curdling scream.

Lup’s heart dropped, her eyes widened. Barry grabbed Taako and forced him back down to the bed, fighting to keep him down as he writhed in agony. Lup held down on his wrist with one arm while trying to keep his legs down with her other. The screaming did not stop. Her sensitive ears pulled back with the noise. Lup had stayed strong through this whole ordeal, but now she finally broke down and began to cry. She had never seen him scream in pain before.

“Taako,” she pleaded through tears, almost unable to hear herself over the shouting. “Taako—it’s okay, I know it hurts—please hang in there!”

At the sound of Taako’s screams, a horrified Magnus ran into the room, followed quickly by Davenport.

“What happened?” Davenport demanded, panicked.

“Merle, do it now,” Lucretia ordered, tears in her eyes.

“It only lasts a minute,” Merle shouted.

“Do something,” Lup begged.

Merle cast Calm Emotions.

Taako’s wailing ceased, but it was clear that the pain did not. He bit his lower lip so hard it drew blood; he breathed heavily as his body shook.

They all paused, and Lup buried her face in her arms on the bed, shaking.

“This only lasts a minute,” Merle repeated. “It’s not a cantrip, I can’t just do it over and over again.”

“Can anyone cast sleep?” Lucretia asked.

“Elves are immune to that,” Lup droned, her voice muffled by the bed.

“…Right,” Lucretia sighed.

“I have Essence of Ether,” Davenport offered softly. “It’ll keep him under for eight hours or until we wake him up.”

“Yeah,” Lup retorted. “Let’s poison him some more.”

Merle cast another healing spell, then sighed. “I don’t see what other choice we have, Lup.”

Lup sat up and wiped her eyes, shaking her head. She cursed.

“Fuck it,” she resigned. “Do whatever.”

The captain left and returned with a round bottle. He shooed Merle, Barry, and Lup away from the bed. Lucretia and Magnus left the room entirely to give the others some space.

“Stay back,” Davenport warned. “If you inhale it, you’ll be out too.”

He opened the vial near Taako’s face, and shortly after he seemed to relax somewhat. He continued to tremble and sweat and his breathing did not improve, but he stopped writhing and his jaw relaxed.

Davenport put the cork back in the bottle.

“He’ll wake up in eight hours, or sooner if you try to wake him. So just let him rest.”

Davenport took his leave, and Merle followed him—saying that he would be back to check on Taako in an hour.

Lup leaned against a wall and sunk down to the floor, burying her face in her knees. Barry rushed to her side, hesitating before placing a hand on her head.

For the next eight hours, Lup could not be persuaded to rest or eat. Her movements were slow and shaky. She was worn out. She did not attempt to rouse Taako, fearing that he would still be in agony.

Near the end of the ether’s duration, Taako’s breathing grew more stable. His body temperature dropped to a more normal level, and the trembling had mostly subsided.

Even after Davenport’s ether had worn off, Taako remained unconscious for a few hours. Merle healed him again before heading off to bed to recover his spell slots. Barry kept Lup company for as long as she allowed him to, but she eventually forced him to go to bed as well. Lup sat alone with Taako.

Not long after Barry had left, Taako finally began to stir.

His eyes opened with difficulty, unfocused and glassy. He looked around, blinking a few times to try and clear his hazy vision, before locking eyes with his sister.

“Lup...?” His voice was raspy and weak.

Lup beamed. “Hey,” she answered quietly.

“You...look like hell,” Taako mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

She scoffed. “You should see yourself.”

Taako let out a small noise as he tried to prop himself up—but Lup quickly placed a hand on his chest and gently pushed him back down to the bed.

“Don’t—don’t move around too much, Taak, you’re in a bad way.”

“Huh...?”

“How are you feeling?”

He paused for a moment, trying to find the right words. He forced a small smile.

“Yeah...not gonna lie, I, uh...really not great.”

“I bet,” Lup said as she dabbed his face with the cloth again.

“What...what happened?” He asked.

“You touched a poison arrow while you were goofing around, dingus.”

Taako squinted and frowned as he tried to recall. He rolled his eyes when he remembered.

“That garbage excuse for a trap did this?”

“You’re losing your touch, my dude,” Lup teased softly.

“Yeah, shit, guess I really couldn’t solve the cave puzzle.”

Taako winced slightly as he spoke, and Lup’s smile faded. She took a second to gather her thoughts.

“Listen, you remember how everyone on this plane are humans?” She asked.

He nodded, running a hand through his hair.

“Their medicines are gonna work differently on you. The antidote we gave you...well typically you’d need to sleep. It takes a lot out of you.”

Taako continued to rub his eyes. “Okay?” he prompted, almost inaudibly.

“We knocked you out so you wouldn’t feel as much,” Lup explained. “But you really need to trance. Do you think you can?”

He thought a minute, then shrugged.

“I know it’s gonna be hard cause everything hurts,” she said, hushed. “But you’re not going to recover if you don’t.”

“Should be fine,” Taako replied. “It’s not so bad. I can tell you took good care of me.”

“Well it was mostly Merle honestly,” Lup said. “We owe him a big thanks. Let’s cook up something nice for him when you’re back on your feet. “

“Merle actually healed me?” Taako doubted.

“Yeah, a whole bunch of times. And Lucretia got the antidote, Capn’port had the ether, Magnus got you back to the ship...and Barry kept us company. It was a group effort, I guess.”

Taako pulled his hand away from his face and took a good look at his sister.

“How long was I out?” He asked.

“This is the third night,” Lup replied wearily.

“Three days?!” Taako tried again to sit up, but failed. He continued with irritation: “And you’ve been with me the whole time.”

Lup opened her mouth to say something, but Taako cut her off.

“I can tell,” he said. “You need to trance. I’m alright now. Go get some rest.”

“I’m fine, Taak.”

“Did you forget to eat too, goofus?”

Lup tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, looking askance.

“Tell you what,” Lup said, taking a moment to grab a canteen from the table behind her. “You’re gonna drink a whole bunch of water because I swear you just sweat out your whole body weight, which—gross, by the way—and then you’re gonna try to trance so that you can recover a little bit. And when Barry comes to check in on us in the middle of the night again, I’ll let him take over. And then I will go and meditate.”

Taako briefly closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and Lup couldn’t tell if it was from annoyance or pain.

“Barry will?” Taako asked.

“Yeah, he’s been trying to take over since day two,” Lup said with a sigh. “He keeps popping in around four or five.”

Taako gave a little smirk. “He’s a pretty good dude.”

“Yeah,” Lup gave a sad smile. “He is. He was worried about you. We were all really worried.”

Lup’s smile dropped as quickly as it had come, and she continued: “God, Taako, that was...that was really scary.”

Taako tried a third time to rise. Lup put a hand out to stop him, but he pushed it away. He sat up, holding his head, and took a few jagged breaths. When he regained his composure, he reached a hand out to Lup. She took it and glanced at him, forlorn.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m fine now. You did a good job. Relax.”

Lup handed him the canteen and Taako took a long drink.

“Are you hungry?” She asked.

Taako made a face at the thought, his stomach turning. “Absolutely not.”

Lup nodded. “Alright,” she said. “Then just lie down and try to trance.”

He did not argue. To Lup’s relief, Taako was actually able to meditate fairly quickly. She had been worried that the pain would keep him too alert.

When Barry came in to check on them, Lup finally acquiesced. She took a few hours to meditate right in the room with Taako, more out of exhaustion than worry, and when she finished Barry sent her to her room to get a proper rest.

Taako spent nearly half the next day trancing, which was very unusual for any elf, but his body was so messed up it was necessary. When asked how he was feeling, he likened it to “a hangover, but a hundred times worse.” He improved somewhat when Lucretia brought him some Fantasy Aspirin.

It took a full week for Taako to feel completely back to normal, though he lied and told his friends he was fine after only three days.

When the end of the cycle came and everything predictably reset for the IPRE crew, Lup wondered how many times she was going to have to watch her family suffer or die. They had begun getting careless about safety—but eventually there would be a last cycle, there had to be! She hoped when that day finally came, everyone she loved would be safe.

Come what may, she knew—at least she and Taako would always have each other.

--

This fic is also posted on Ao3, click for the link!

[bekahdoesnerdshit]

no one else has reblogged ask meme Mondays so I'm just going fucking apeshit with u. from the big boy: b7 for raini bc it's funny, c1 for cog bc it's inchresting, h3 for brilliance bc I know there's some gay shit going on and I want to hear more, then a17 (character proud of themselves or ur proud of ur rp as them) L5 and L6 for whomsoever u want to talk about

I won’t need a readmore for this one, I tell myself. There’s not that many questions, and they’re not proseboys. I was a fool. She’s too long to be allowed to run on people’s dashboards unrestrained 😔 Thank you! For going apeshit!!

Raini

B7. How do they respond to babies crying in public? I guarantee the image you have for how Raini would react to a crying baby is 10000% correct. She’s unhappy. Uncomfortable. Unimpressed. Can you please make that thing be quiet. Why did you have it if you can’t mange it. This is why she’s never having kids. Like she’s not gonna say anything to the parents or shoot them dirty looks, because she’s not that specific flavor of asshole, but she’s going Mind Her Business and vacate the premises if possible. People who want to take care of something should just get a cat. Goddamn. There is ONE (1) baby that may qualify for an exception, and that’s Red. This is because (and please, picture Raini, the absolute picture of ‘fed up’, squatting down to look a fussy Red in the eye while she says this) “Baby Lent. You’re better than this. I know you are, and you’re letting me down. You need to stop making that noise.” This is unrelated to the question, but please also picture a Raini who was asked (blackmailed?) into babysitting using her Mage Hand to change Red’s diaper. It has nothing to do with the question but I think it’s a Very funny mental image. Thank you.

Cog

C1. Does your OC have a moral code? If not, how do they base their actions? If so, where does it come from, and how seriously do they take it? Absolutely! The way Cog approaches the world is defined by three main mantras: - Kindness is a discipline, not a character trait. - Doing the right thing isn’t always easy, but it is always worth doing. - If you are able to help someone, you have an obligation to do so. Between these three things, Cog sees the world in pretty black and white terms. There are right decisions, and wrong ones. The difference between the two is usually clear to anyone who cares to look, and so most of the evil in the world is born of selfishness. Consequently, Cog does very poorly in morally grey situations. She will commit without hesitation to any course of action that she deems “right” and “kind” no matter how drastic or dangerous it is, but she pretty much shuts down the second she’s faced with a decision that has consequences for someone regardless of what she does.  I’m sure that has not, and will not, come in her life ever at all. Ahah!  I think originally, this worldview was born of naivety. She grew up that religious kind of super sheltered where everything in the secular world was dangerous and dirty, and so when Cog began to realize that definitely wasn’t the case she made the choice to intentionally see the best in people and the world around her to fight what she was told growing up. When she started traveling with her party and actually seeing more of the world than the extremes of a) shitty cult town b) shiny clean magic school, she began to realize that the true state of the Wasteland was somewhere between what her Mama had told her and what she wanted to believe it was. But I’ve never in my life made a character who is stubborn as hell deep down, so instead of letting the world she found herself in change her Cog took a deep breath, rolled up her sleeves, and settled in to be the one changing it by loving and helping the people around her.

Brilliance

H3. Does your OC believe there’s only one ideal partner (or multiple ideal if not monogamous) for everyone, or that there are many people who could be right? I think Brilliance absolutely adores the idea of two people being made for one another. Two souls, wandering the world looking for one another? Who slot together so perfectly that when they find each other it’s clear they never could have fit anywhere else? Bruh. Yes, she knows love takes work. Sometimes you and your partner are going to disagree, and sometimes there’s going to be conflict. The world isn’t “love at first sight” then smooth sailing for the rest of your life. But you put in the work to make your lives better, together, because the universe gave you this person to care for. Maybe there are many people who you could be happy with, and those relationships aren’t anything to look down on. But when you find The One, Brilliance thinks, you know. She certainly did.

Don’t Worry About It

A17. What’s one of your OC’s proudest moments of themselves? Gonna hijack this question to talk about rp moments I’m proud of because Alex sorta kinda gave me permission to do that! Alright! For Raini, the biggest rp moment I’m proud of was her “I’m getting our memories back” speech a few sessions ago, specifically the line, “We’ve been fighting with one hand tied behind our backs for too long. If we’re going to die fighting this thing, I want to know exactly what I’m fighting for.” Morgan and I had been planning to kick off our return from July Hell Hiatus with Wish Two for a couple of days, which meant I was lucky enough to be able to spend a little while planning what to say. I feel like that line in particular embodies Raini’s unwavering confidence in her magic, her determination, and her specific brand of caring for the people around her without actually admitting that’s what she’s doing. I also really liked the way the scene of her apologizing to the party for being Bitchy post losing Magic for a minute went! Idk if anyone else remembers it, because it was pretty short in game, but! I thought it was a very good moment of Raini finding the most Roundabout way to say “thank you for looking out for me while I was defenseless”.  If I can pat myself on the back a little, my Cog monologues kick Ass. The most recent one was when she was talking to Ace about how War is Bad (radical, I know) and there was a moment where she looked at him and said, “...I’m not going to ask for your help, because I don’t know what I’ll do if I do and you say no.” Which. OOF. That was her and I realizing in real time that she and Ace were very much on different sides of this issue. When the session ended everyone said they Loved how good and hurtful that conversation was and I :’) Also, there was a really small moment when Cog was pleading for Maelo’s life (when Sunny’s dad had him locked in a cat carrier. It’s a Long story, made slightly better by the fact that Maelo was wildshaped into a cat at the time) and Cog went Straight for the dad heartstrings by sniffling and asking if, please, would Robert at least let her say goodbye to her friend before he killed him? Please? 😢  She is using her baby face for EVIL!  And oh my god how could I forget! Arcane Timeout! When the party went back to New Alexandria and was confronted by Ace for helping a prisoner escape (which, in fairness, Maelo did do) and Cog brought the encounter screeching to a halt by casting Wall of Stone to make a timeout hut with herself and Ace inside. She then sat herself down, looked Ace dead in the eye, and told him that the wall wasn’t coming down until he actually talked to her, or until he broke her concentration on the spell. She banked hard on him not being willing to hurt her, and it paid off. There were tears all around, both in and out of character. It was Wonderful. Also! I do just want recognition for the fact that I did not give into my impulses to be a little Shit as Cog last session by subtle casting Heal in Ace’s face after he Counterspelled my Healing Word. it was what I Rebekah wanted to do more than anything; unfortunately Cog is a better person than I am. There is No worse feeling than wanting so badly to do something you have no choice but to admit isn’t in character. Rip.  For whatever reason, all of my favorite Brilliance rp moments came during combat. Pressing her forehead to Sabre’s after he died in silent grief, forcefully taking a Narzugon off his Nightmare and then using Misty Step to mount it herself and take off after her friend, planting herself in the chokepoint of a hallway to stare down three minotaurs so she could keep her party safe behind her, pushing deeper into the hellwasp nest to rescue Dembe and Sabre despite knowing that doing so all but destroyed her chance of making it out alive, the list goes on. There were good out of combat moments too (despite the rest of the party’s best efforts 🙄), but I feel like for once I made a character who really shone in combat.  oh GOD I just remembered one really really good rp moment, when our rogue Zihro died when he got separated from the party during combat. We finished taking care of the main devil we were fighting, then began searching the dungeon for Zihro and the npc he was with. We, instead, found both of their corpses. Dembe looked to Brilliance, our healer, and demanded to know why she was just standing there instead of fixing their friend. We were only level three or four at the time, so Brilliance had to tell Dembe, again and again, that she couldn’t fix Zihro. It was too late, she wasn’t powerful enough yet, her goddess wouldn’t answer a prayer like that- It was a rough scene, and without question one of the best rp moments I’ve had with that group. Tae, if you’re reading this, you’re the only one with rights. Also, please unfollow this blog immediately.  Now as a quick pick-me-up after that mess, Pip’s best rp moment was when our barbarian Durokal -who couldn’t read and had a habit of running off and causing Problems- found a plaque he could tell had five words on it, and called Pip over to read it for him when Pip finished chasing him down. Pip, annoyed and out of breath and all of two feet tall, looked up at this 7 foot half-orc and told him, “It says: I’m. Gonna. Kick. Your. Ass.” Also, he regularly called very powerful figures in Barovia by sweet nicknames with “Mr.” in the front. As a sign of Respect. Because he’s the Best. sdfhsdkfj he also he couldn’t think of a fake name quick enough one time so he told an npc that is name was Dick and he was Very embarrassed about it. She: bought it!

Brilliance, Again

L5. Which OC do you think is the most decent morally or behaviorally?  AKA, which is supposed to a “good guy”? The answer is Cog, but we already went in depth on her morals this ask. She’s HAD enough screen time let’s move on. Brilliance is the only other character who, if asked, would say they saw themselves as a good guy instead of just “a person”. She strives to do right by the people around her, and to protect the light and beauty found in the world. She doesn’t have the same illusions about the world wanting to be a good place that Cog does, and she very much understands that sometimes the best thing you can do for the world is to put the things that make it dangerous six feet under. What’s interesting I think is that, despite being a paladin, she isn’t Lawful Good! She’s Neutral Good, because you know what? She wants to do the right thing, and laws aren’t always right. It’s up to you, as a person with a mind and free will and agency, to look at a situation and decide what you think is the right thing to do. And, for Brilliance, generally the right thing to do is heft her sword, raise her shield, and face trouble head on.

Raini, Once More

L6. Which OC do you think is the worst morally or behaviorally? AKA, which is supposed to be a “bad guy”? I don’t have any evil aligned characters, because I personally find things like “getting along with my party members” sexy, but the character who’s the shittiest and the worst is obviously Raini. She’s not a bad person per say, she’s just selfish and results oriented. Very much “the ends justify the means” and in a party like hers she’s aware that somebody has to be the bad guy sometimes, and she’s not afraid to make sure that’s her. She’s also very very likely to fall victim to her hubris making her feel like she definitely knows what’s best, and acting on that maybe without consulting other people (see: the whole fucking premise of the campaign). She sees a goal, she sees a way to accomplish that goal, so why shouldn’t she begin taking the necessary steps to reach it? I think the events of the game have mellowed this flaw out a little bit, but you can still see traces of it in the way she, for example, wordlessly handed Lent a bunch of diamonds before launching her consciousness into the Abeast and very nearly dying in there without consulting with the party first. It happens!  Also, behaviorally, she’s just. I mean. She’s like that. The worst. And that, I promise, will never change. 

[kaiju-z]

Seon Adventures Episode 25:  2 Weeks Pass

When last we left off Amelia, the Air Genasi Monk; Belli, the Half-Orc Bard; Luctan, the Tiefling Fighter; Malak, the Human Cleric and Mournimar, the Tiefling Ranger, they had just slain the invaders of Nelatha Shadowspire’s mannor, who, much to everyone’s collective surprise, were spawned by Vampires!

We carry on from this point as Luctan spends his last spell slot for the rest of his rest on healing Amelia, before bringing in the called over Ficus, Belli’s older brother and daring Rogue, to aide in the investigation.

As the party get situated in their respective positions, they begin their inquiry on the subject of the assassins. The tired, bloody and bruised group learn information, both old and new as they were, indeed, hired to defend the home from attackers, who conspired to kill Nelatha’s mother. Due to their resemblence, it’s easy to mistake one for the other and thus, they had believed she was still in town.

Nel shares that vampires of varying levels of power also would find interest in such organizations and aide in numbers, maybe finances, as partaking in the trade of assassination was amusing to them.

What more, from Ficus, the party learn that, based on their ring tattoos, are normally sent after high calibre targets. So all this makes sense.

In the process of the discussion, Luctan asks for and hopes for Nel’s honesty, as crudely he puts it, he doesn’t want to be “fucked up the ass” by shady business. This, combined with his question on whether this was connected to Nel’s hand being covered in someone else’s blood, back at one of the Spires were related.

And she would confirm.

Nelatha was, in all essense, a vigilante. Her work as a Bard aided her in collecting lore on various people and she saw it her duty to “Nip” certain people in the “bun”, before they became trouble for the rest of society.

Luck trusted her, ultimately as she had been up front with them on other things, so lying now would be pointless...A peaceful rest of the evening did not come, however, as inter-party arguments would arise.

Before the group could reach their resting point on this night, certain tensions would build to boiling points. Amelia, hurt and tired, in the physical and emotional sense would share conflicting words with Luck, who would turn to a silent state, getting the message fairly quickly.

Belli’s casual innuendos would only worsen the situation, when making jokes about her brother and Luck having sex, which would in turn cause Luck to get annoyed and Mournimar try to defuse the situation, only to argue with Belli over it. Tired and done with everything this evening, the blue and red of the team would head to their rooms, cutting the conversation short and over with for the night.

Malak would be lost in all this and be left to his own devices, as he was still quite new to the party, even with the 1st joined combat they partook in. But his time to shine would eventually come, surely.

The following day, Mournimar and Belli would try and reconcile with each other, as the quick to attach to each other people they were, while Luck tried to follow Amelia, concerned over last night’s end and the state of the woman, who shared her story with him first.

He would try to apologize, uncertain of himself and why they didn’t go with her to the meeting spot with Sabrina. He was certainly frustrated over the sudden change that he partook in from that plan. Something that, as friends they owed Amelia at the least.

Amelia would spill her soul, in turn at that time. Rightfully she had words for not just one tiefling, but the other and their Bard for how she was left to feel for months, since Sa Doma. He was the one there and so she spoke her mind, a load of negative feelings being released on the fighter.

It was upsetting, especially so as Luck knew that her points were more than valid. They were a reality he helped create with his actions and inactions. And failing to make a progress in a good direction at that time, he stood in the middle of the street as she left for a meeting with Sabrina.

Belli and Mournimar would manage to fair better in their own conversation as Belli expressed her own woes. As the Bard, it was her duty to raise people’s spirits and she saw it as her failure to do so the previous night, after the fight. And Mournimar encouraged her to not give up in that regard. But to also be mindful of how others would take private matters of the intimate being discussed. Also timing.

All the hwile Ficus, Malak and Nel had a cup of tea together.

With the heavy stuff being released out in the open, as time passed Luck had some seemingly better, well, Luck, in talking to Amelia. As he and Belli tried to make a gathering with Sabrina happen, Belli got in touch with the Wizard.

From the conversation, the eager to make thiings right Bard managed to get an approval from Sab, as long as Amelia would be down for it. Thusly, Luck took it as his responsibility to approach Amelia and ask if it would be ok for everyone to meet up with her sister. This time for real.

It was, to say the least from Luck, both his responsibility to Amelia, as her friend and to everyone to point them in the direction. Luctan would admit, for the first time since even before he showed everyone his true appearance, that he liked them. He liked Belli and Mournimar, he liked Burk when he was around and he was sure that, if Malak stayed with them for long, he’d like him as well.

He admitted that he liked Amelia as well. He appreciated her and let her in on a secret, regarding his own confidence. Something, partially as to why he more often than not wore armor even when in-doors. The reason why it was so hard for him to open up to people. Which was why he was also hiding his face, after all. The first people he met, when he came to Seon, from his home, via teleport scroll.

Though by this point it was quite obvious to him that the party were nothing like his attackers, he still held back, sub and consciously about himself so as not to leave himself open. And yet, he would admit it now the vulnerability.

He cared for all of them and wanted the best for them. After everything the lot of them had been through: The Death Cult, twice over, the dopplegenger at sea, the sea itself! Felaren... The Potentia followers in Sa Doma and the improputation of the tiefling, by Burk; and the flurries on the road to Crystalgate. The hezrou!

After all that. After dealing to some extent with everyone else’s history and family shenanigans, he owed it to her and they all owed it to her, to Amelia, to be there for her in the time she got to spend with her own family.

Not just because it was a tit-for-tat, but also because it was something he desired to be there for, legitimately.

The Disaster Duo’s natures and motives regarding Luck, aside, Amelia did ultimately agree to a meeting at the Tabernax Tavern, the spot that had been quickly becoming the party’s meeting spot over the week they had been in Crystalgate for.

Belli would be their go-between to confirm with Sabrina, via Sending Spell.

And we would get that meetinglater on, during the 2 week time skip that followed. (which is Kaiju-speak for “We couldn’t quite get that done this week, so it’ll happen next session~!)

With the meeting happening, each party member took to their own devices as they prepared for the tournament. When not interacting with one another, casually and through training, they would each look into their CG goals and empowering mechanisms...

Mournimar would invest in buying trick arrows, ones called “Arrows of Sparrows”. Projectiles, which flew twice as far and twice as fast. And for his improvement under Peppery Pete, he would be handed a Gem of Dyun Sight, which would give him 120ft of True Sight. He would be able to see through Illusions and invisibility.

Malak’s two weeks were his own and for his training he’d receive a special ring. (Which is again, Kaiju speak for: stuff that will be elaborated on next session, because real life).

In his time of solitude, Luctan was a particularly busy bea. From collecting supplies and renting out Delemmak’s forge during the evenings to build himself new armor... to asking Belli for assistance in messaging Jayne and Nash, regarding the ball and Dak, respectively.

Jayne had arrived not too long ago in Crystalgate and given the ball to a trusted person in Lady Duststone. Belli would point her in the direction of the animal cafe, much to the glee of the gnomish wizard head lawyer.

Nash would update them, regarding Dak. He was well, though he had begun to think Nash was interested in him. As she was a lesbian, that wasn’t the case. So he seemed safe for now...

From those actions, to all the more. Luck would investigate them. The Traveling Gentlemen. Via persuasion, he’d learn about their favorite spot of gathering. The Tabernax Tavern. Something which shook him. They had occupied the same place at different times and had missed each other. The opportunity to catch them early on, missed. Frustrating.

Luck would carry on his search and learn of sounds of spells going off in the woods and someone, Landis, flying around with his wings. Phantom Limb pain enducing.

And then. Then he’d catch a glimpse of Dink, the Orc, out in the open,walking amongst the populace. But by the time he’d get to where he had seen the man, Luck would miss him. RAGE ENDUCING!

For his training, he’d receive the completed Greatsword, enchanted with Luck’s requested spells, in tact. And once per day he’d use a certain one of them to just... relax.

His last notable deed during the two weeks, he’d call Ficus for assistance and hire him to do a service. 12 platinum given to Ficus, 3 of which he’d hold onto and spread down the line as his hirees would spread the required information.

Belli Narah... Oh, Belli Narah. She had quite the time in her two weeks. Between visiting Cedric and the training, she sepent the remainder, when not around everyone in the party, prepping for and performing on stage with her fellow Bardy Narahs. and she would absolutely KILL IT on stage, outshining all her siblings and her father! Much to Hon’s shock and awe, too!

She would help reconcile the relationship of her father and Ficus, helping them grow as people and as a duo.

And she’d also bring Mournimar again and again to the family in attempts to get them to adopt him. The ranger would end up finding himself the center of a Narah embrace on a few occasions and Morgan would receive the most pats.

For her efforts for the tournament, Peppery Pete would give her special gauntlets. “The Gauntlets Of Heroes Yet Unsung “ As a perfformer and as a Vicious Mockerer, her power would grow.

She’d make peace with Pete, finally. They’d fistbump as he revealed he’d change the name of the Orcish Strength Potion and after some brainstorming, they’d redub it to “ Ichor of the Himbo “.

Amelia’s time would be special. For her. For Nel. For her and Nel. For her, Nel and Sabrina and eventually, Sabrina’s boyfriend.

Amelia would spend plenty of time with Nel as the two would walk together, talk together and bake together. They’d make, as Amelia had sworn to do, a cake for Old Greg from the South East of Crystalgate.

Through her efforts she grew as a person. Through her trials and tribulations she became stronger and faster and more dexterous.

Her gift from Peppery Pete were a pair of boots, which he begged her to put on, as he was quite disturbed by the monk’s decision to walk barefoot everywhere.

They were the Boots of Speed. Their fame well known in fantasy.

With all this done. The party would reach level 8.

2 weeks have passed. The Springtime Welcoming Tournament was in coming.

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