#he was so shocked that Bartimaeus was called by SOMEONE ELSE

[nadiajustbe]

Bartimaeus: You know, you're the most jealous magician I've ever been summoned to.

Nathaniel: You've been summoned by other magicians?!

[beerecordings]

I had a dream that you wrote a thing about Eric meeting Jackie or Jamie or the Septics in general, and then I woke up and I am Enraged™️ that my brain would play such a cruel trick on me.

yeah hi i’ve been in an airport for three hours and i love you so of course i wrote this

there is, however, a twist

I am currently reading the Bartimaeus series

and I can finally make my oWN DEMON AU HEHEHEHEHE

have y’all seen these? it’s the best universe ever it’s like there are magicians and most of them use spirits from the other world as weapons and slaves, but there’s this one kid who starts to become unwilling friends with an equally unwilling demon and then ahhhh

so anyway, have this. i’ve been thinking about it a lot lately lol. written in about an hour at the Denver airport, playing TAZ from my phone and eating overpriced chicken tenders OH DAMN TIME TO BOARD BUT ANYWAY

“Jackie,” hisses Jack, shoving him back in his pocket. “Stay hidden.”

Jackie’s little mouse head pokes out again, obstinately. “But I want to see!” he squeaks, trying to climb up Jack’s suit jacket.

“Joachim,” Jack warns, picking him up by his little pink tail and tucking him back in his pocket. “You have to stay hidden! You know I can’t let the other magicians know how well I treat my spirits, mouser.”

“I will turn into a mosquito.”

“No, you’ll get swatted.”

“A cloud of smoke.”

“Too noticeable.”

“A louse on your head.”

“Gross! Stay in my pocket!”

“Fine,” grumbles Jackie, curling up in his pocket with his mouse arms crossed over his chest. “But I’m turning into a slimy little frog.”

He makes good on his promise and ribbits irritably. Jack sighs and rubs a finger over his head, sitting back in his chair and exchanging overly-polite smiles with the magicians nearby.

“Why are we even at a fancy little party anyway?” sighs Joachim. “Everyone here is a dick.”

“Thanks for the encouragement.”

“I’m serious, Sean!”

Jack hisses, giving his pocket a little shove. “Shut the hell up! If anyone here learned my real name – ”

“Yeah, they’d curse the hell out of you. Cause everyone here is a dick. Jack, these magicians would sell you out for a thimble’s worth of power. And we both know they’re here talking shit about you for living in that little cottage downtown, and for not taking a limousine here, and because they’re jealous that you keep five spirits at once.”

Jack sighs.

This is not entirely untrue.

“Besides,” sighs Jackie. “Everyone else here treats their spirits like shit.”

Glancing around with glasses enchanted to allow him to see on the second and third fields, Jack sees imps and foliots scattered around the room, and even a couple of djinni like Joachim, all close to their master’s hands. Some are curled up in pockets, some sit on shoulders as birds or cats, some are even little monsters snarling around their masters’ bodies. Each one of them is enslaved, bound to the master who summoned them to the mortal realm. Each one of them would be punished if it dared to disobey – maybe killed. And certainly none of them know their master’s true names.

If they did, they would kill them. And Jack can’t blame them. If he were a spirit – an imp, a foliot, a djinni, an afrit, or a marid – He would kill his slave-driver too, and go back to the other realm, and be free.

Jackie turns back into a mouse. Jack strokes his fuzzy grey head, grateful for his company. Grateful for his friendship. For his trust. He remembers when he first summoned Jackie, the first djinni he ever attempted. Jackie would have happily killed him to be free, and Jack barely restrained himself from using curses like stippling or silver to punish him for his insolence.

But he’s a researcher, not a warrior or a leader. He asked questions. They talked. Jackie accompanied him through many dangers. Over time, they learned to trust each other. And then the day the little monster came –

They trust each other with their lives now. Jack isn’t sure any other magician has ever had a bond like this with any spirit, let alone five. Fuck, to think that Magnificence and Haimerich and Blood Chaser and Nectarian could just be slaves if he hadn’t called them to himself –

“Let’s get some air,” he sighs, rising from his seat. Slipping past high-ranking politicians, corrupt to the core, up-scale salesman, making their wealth off magical goods stolen from other countries, and the exhausted, spiteful spirits enslaved at their sides, Jack makes his way to the door, and then to the garden.

Tended as neatly as it is, there is little love from the owners of the house. A gardener has helped heavy fruit trees to bloom into pink flowers for the spring, and flowers are inhaling up from the earth, swaying gentle in the warm night air.

“That’s better,” sighs Jack, undoing his tie to let himself breathe.

Jackie scurries out of his pocket and leaps towards the ground, transforming into a handsome red hunting dog before he hits the earth. “Someone out here,” he warns gently. “With a spirit of their own. Don’t be too loud.”

“Who?” asks Jack, frowning. Most everyone is inside kissing the prime minister’s ass. There’s supposed to be a speech in a few minutes.

He hears voices on the wind before Jackie can answer.

“Just breathe, buddy.”

“I can’t, I can’t, I don’t feel well, please, please, master.”

“Hey, come on, what have I told you about calling me that? What’s the matter? Talk to me, talk me through this. Please breathe, buddy.”

“I don’t know, I don’t know.”

“Do you need to be sent back to the other world? You know I’ll set you free in a second if you say the word. We just need a pentacle, and then – ”

“No, please, I don’t want to be back there either.”

“What the hell?” whispers Jack, moving towards the voice, hidden from him by a copse of orange trees and a great green hedge. “Jackie, you hear that?”

The dog barks out an affirmation and the voices stop suddenly. There is a quick hiss of warning, and then Jack is rounding the hedge, and there, before him, stands a single magician, all alone.

His dark hair is cast in gold by the falling sun and he tilts up his proud chin with a flash in his eyes, straightening up and folding his hands loosely behind his back as he surveys Jack with a cool gaze, his curled mouth displaying an unhidden contempt. Jack would return his haughty look, but he’s almost too startled to process it.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, backing away again, glancing around. “I thought I heard someone… um, talking?”

The other magician tugs the sleeves of his fine navy suit down to the wrists, sighing self-importantly. “Did you now?” His voice is rich and calm. “And you just thought you would interrupt, Mr…?”

“Jackson. Sam Jackson.”

“Mmh.”

“It sounded like someone was having a panic attack. It sounded like you were talking your demon through a panic attack. Joachim, is there a spirit with him?”

Jackie barks again.

“T-talk my demon through a panic attack,” the other magician stammers out. “I’ve never heard something so – so preposterous.”

But there is fear in his eyes, a dark panic flashing through his deep brown eyes. He backs away slightly, fidgeting with his sleeves again.

He isn’t much older than Jack, both in their early twenties. Looking at him, Jack would guess that the stranger is a government worker, and a prominent one at that – all that slicked back hair, the fancy clothes, the shiny blue dress shoes. Something in him fills up with contempt – and yet, looking at him, he does not feel his usual disgust or discomfort.

Something squeaks softly. The other magician flinches, a hand drifting up to cover the pocket on his breast.

“You treat your spirits with respect,” mumbles Jack. “You care for them.”

He needs to steady himself. He places a hand on Jackie’s warm red head.

“Jack,” says his djinni.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” whispers the other magician, drawing away.

“No, wait,” cries Jack. “Jackie, Jackie – ”

They’ve been together for a long time and the brotherhood between them makes it easy for Jackie to understand his unspoken request. The dog rises up on its hindlegs and transforms, this time into Jack’s own form, identical in every way, except a red hoodie thrown over his suit and a streak of djinni blue across his eyes.

“This is my djinni, Joachim,” says Jack. “But I call him Jackie. He’s my – he’s my friend.”

He turns and meets Jackie’s twin eyes. His friend smiles at him, reassuring.

“He’s my equal,” adds Jack, grinning back.

And the change in the other magician is instantaneous, is incredible; all his contempt disappears as though evaporated, his haughty posture falling away, and he stands shocked and gasping in front of Jack, his hands out-stretched uselessly.

“Oh,” he whispers. “Fuck, I thought I was the only one. Man, I don’t – I thought – I’m Mark. Shit, it’s good to meet you.”

He moves forward, smiling, and if there are tears in his eyes, no one seems to mind, and he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny black hamster with thick, wild fur.

“And this is Eric,” he says.

“Eric?” laughs Jack.

“His real name’s Eristebus or something really fancy,” laughs Mark. “He’s a foliot, fourth level – oh, Eric, don’t be scared, bud, it’s okay.”

The hamster trembles fervently in his hand, covering its eyes with little pink paws.

“I – I’ve never seen a foliot act like this,” admits Jack. “It’s okay, little guy.”

Hard anger returns to Mark’s voice. “That’s because spirits who cannot carry out the cruel orders of cruel masters are almost certainly killed or worse – trapped in bottles or entombed in magical buildings for the rest of eternity. Illness and shows of fear have been bred out of these creatures not by time, but by murder. One of my teachers summoned him to demonstrate how to bind a foliot to me. In the two hours he had Eristebus in his control, he tortured him horribly for every shake and tremble. It’s a terrible way for an innocent spirit to live. So, soon as I was powerful enough, I summoned him myself. Now no one else will ever punish him again.”

“Yes!” cries Jack, so loud the sihouettes in the windows of the house startle, and Mark jumps. “Sorry, it’s just – I’ve never met anyone who gives a shit before!”

Mark bursts into laughter, and opens his mouth to speak again, but Jackie interrupts him by scooping the hamster up into his own hand.

Jack steps back, curious as to what his djinni will do. Eristebus is a lower-level spirit than Jackie, around the same power level as Chase, and he’s already afraid. He wants to warn Jackie to be gentle – but no, he trusts him. He trusts him.

“Hi,” says Jackie, softly.

Eric stares up at him with dark little eyes.

“You’ve had some shitty masters, huh?” whispers Jackie.

And then, in Sumerian, he tells him, “That makes us brothers.”

Jack lets out a choked laugh, grinning ear to ear. Fuck, he’s so fucking lucky to see something like this. How long have these creatures been their slaves? Spirits like Joachim and Eristebus taught to be weapons of violence since the day they were drawn into the world – and, in the meantime, all this goodness trapped inside of them, waiting for a chance to be freed.

“Your djinni is so kind,” Mark murmurs. “How did you teach him that?”

“I didn’t,” laughs Jack. “Just gave him the chance to be what he’s always been.”

“It’s going to be okay,” soothes Jackie, and, mimicking his master, he rubs his finger over the top of Eric’s head.

A moment later, the hamster transforms into a man. He takes Mark’s image – a sure sign of respect – except, from the knee, legs made entirely of stone. Some lower-level spirits tend to have difficulties taking on complex forms.

“Hi,” he whispers, in a voice that shakes, and yet, on his mouth, there is a growing smile. “Hi, I – I’m glad to meet another spirit who doesn’t want to eat me.”

“Well, yeah, you smell pretty good.”

“Jackie!” reprimands Jack.

“No, I’m used to it,” sighs Eric.

“Yeah, Wilford’s tried to eat you like four times this week,” agrees Mark.

“Is that a djinni?” laughs Jack.

“Nah, a marid.”

Jack’s mouth falls open. For a moment, he can’t speak at all.

“You keep a marid on hand?”

Mark grins, torn somewhere between pride and modesty. “Well… two.”

Even Jackie turns at that, staring.

“Hey, they don’t call me an up-and-comer for nothing,” laughs Mark. “Don’t be jealous, they’re both terrible. I love them a lot.”

“An up-and-comer – you are a politician, aren’t you?”

“I have a minor position in State Affairs.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m keeping you from the pm’s speech.”

“Are you kidding?” Mark blows a raspberry with his mouth, rolling his eyes. “That dick? I’ve heard him talk plenty enough for one lifetime. Anyway, I think he thinks I’m out to steal his job. And I’m like ‘give me a couple years first, man!‘”

“So you can’t let anyone know you treat your spirits like this. Because if you did – ”

“We’d be laughingstocks,” Mark nods.

“At the least! Man, I think it’s more likely we’d be labeled radical fanatics and exiled or assassinated.”

“I’d never let that happen,” Jackie pipes up, his teeth drawn in a smile. He has fangs, suddenly.

“So we have to be careful,” Mark sighs. “But, shit – we don’t have to be alone anymore, do we?”

“No. No, I guess not.” Jack can’t help it if there are tears in his eyes. He feels stupid – but at the same time, so very, very happy. “Dude, we have so much to talk about.”

“We really do,” agrees Mark, beaming. He reaches out to clasp his shoulder, drawing him in close. “It’s just been me and the spirits for so long!”

“You really keep house with two marids?” Jackie is asking Eric. “What is that even like?”

Eric’s eyes are big and exhausted. “Awful,” he says weakly. “But then again, also… wonderful. Some days, you almost get eaten, some days, they’d destroy armies for you…”

“I think we all have a lot to talk about,” Mark grins. “So, what do you say? Want to get the fuck out of here?”

Jackie and Eric are already moving towards the sidewalk away from the house, headed back to mortal homes, chatting about everything and nothing.

“Yeah,” says Jack. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here, man. Let’s talk.”

[allonsyroleplaythings]

Unexpected Escape

Today had started out just like any day, full of hope and optimism, and the next thing the Doctor knew the TARDIS was making all sorts of unhealthy noises, alarms going off and he had all he could do to hold on as the TARDIS was ripped out of the time vortex. The Doctor scrambled around the centre console, grabbing at levers, punching at buttons, and when nothing seemed to help, he just kicked the bloody thing. Nope, the TARDIS didn't like that one bit, and he ended up tossed like a rag doll across the TARDIS until it finally lurched to a stop. He coughed and pulled himself up into a standing position, some smoke coming out of the console but not enough to worry him. For a moment he half expected a voice to call out, giving him some sort of smart remark about his driving abilities, and then he remembered Rose wasn't there. He did his best to push those thoughts out of his mind and he quickly went back to the console. According to the reading it was 1995, still Britain though, somewhere in Scotland. Though something felt off, and not all the readings made sense. Well, might as well pop out for a look. The Doctor didn't bother straightening his tie, which was even more askew than normal, Scotland was usually a bit on the cold side, better grab his overcoat. It was wrinkled but at least if it was raining he wouldn't get completely soaked. Stepping out the light seemed a bit on the dim side, but then much of what light there was illuminated from an old fireplace. It wasn't a large room but looked like the inside of a castle if he had to guess. Before he could do or think anything else, someone with an eerily familiar voice began questioning him. "Oi, who the bloody hell are you." Not that Barty could do much in his current state, tied down to a chair waiting for Dumbledore and the others to come back and hand him off to the Minister. He knew what Fudge had in mind for him, not Azkaban again no, this time he would make sure that Barty couldn't escape or cause problems in the future, it was the Dementors Kiss for him, a thought that chilled him to the bone. "I don't know or care who you are, but how's about you be a mate and untie me. I shouldn't even be here, I've been wrongfully accused you see, but that won't matter to them!" This was a lot to take in, the man had an eerie resemblance to the Doctor's current face. Was the man wrongfully accused, what did they plan to do to him, and why if he was really in 1995 Britain, did he look like he was in a medieval castle. "Are you saying they plan to execute you?" The Doctor wasn't a fan of death sentences, a bit too barbaric for his taste. Not that there weren't those who perhaps deserved such a sentence, but in his experience, the punishment rarely fit the crime. "Worse than that, it'll be the Dementor's kiss, a fate worse than death. Come on, just help me out, they'll be back any minute." Barty didn't have his wand on him, Dumbledore still had that, but if this stranger could help him escape, he'd eventually just find a new wand the first chance he got. He had nothing to lose, and if this tosser was willing to rescue him, at least he'd be alive and have his soul. "Dementor's Kiss? Sorry, I'm not uh, from around here, what's that exactly? Not that it sounds pleasant mind you, you humans do get quite creative with your forms of corporal punishment!" Dementor, demented, and why snogging, that was supposed to be a pleasant thing, or most times at least, it seemed a bit odd to see someone so afraid of a snog. Barty couldn't really hide his confusion when the Doctor didn't understand what a dementor was if it meant he was a muggle well then how on earth did he and his contraption apparate into Hogwarts, a place that supposedly only Dumbledore could apparate in and out of. Then there was the you humans bit, a vampire perhaps, but then any magical creature would still know what a dementor was. He didn't have long though, and even though the odd blue box was blocking the door into the room, it wouldn't be hard for Dumbledore to simply apparate in, Barty was running out of

time. "Basically it'll suck out my soul, leave a shell behind, death would be worse I assure you, now untie me and get me out of here before they get back!!!! I'm running out of time!" He didn't even care why this man didn't know, or what the man was, he just wanted to escape with his soul and life intact. Soul sucked out, well the Doctor understood now why the man had said worse than death, perhaps he was guilty, perhaps he was telling the truth and he was innocent either way, the Doctor wasn't going to let someone's soul get sucked out, no matter the crime. The Doctor moved to untie the man from the chair and then turned to the TARDIS. "Follow me, we still have some things to clear up, but can't do that until we get out of here." As the Doctor reached the door and began opening it, he couldn't help but crack a little smile as he almost anticipated the next words out of the man's mouth, words he'd heard so many times it was more of a shock when someone didn't bring it up. "Uh, is there room enough in there for both of us?" Then the Doctor pushed into the TARDIS and left the door ajar for Barty, though he poked his head out for a second realising he'd been rude. "I'm the Doctor by the way, and this is my spaceship, the TARDIS!" With that, the Doctor disappeared back inside and went over to the console while he waited for the other man to follow. Barty hesitated, but as soon as he heard pounding on the door outside, he quickly entered the odd blue box and closed the door behind him. He'd seen all sorts of magic in his life, so the idea of bigger on the inside wasn't wholly shocking, but since he hadn't even been sure if the man was a wizard or muggle, he hadn't been entirely sure what to expect either. What he wasn't expecting in any way was all the strange electronic gadgets, this didn't really seem like anything he'd seen wizards have before, but it was his ticket to freedom. As the Doctor flipped switches and pulled levers, the TARDIS whirled back into action, he set the destination for somewhere that he and whomever this man was could have a chance to talk, find out who he'd just rescued and why. "So, I told you who I am, what should I call you then?" Barty looked around, then his eyes rested back on the Doctor, the strange man who had just been stupid enough to rescue him. "Bartimaeus Crouch Junior, but call me Barty!" Now that he was free Barty had a chance to give this strange a proper look, his eyes went wide with confusion. The Doctor didn't seem at all concerned with why their appearances were so familiar, but Barty could swear it was as if someone had drunk a Polyjuice potion to look like him, but who and why. Though there were differences too, of course, this man seemed a bit taller, a bit more kept together. Well, hopefully, he'd be rid of this fool soon, so, for now, he pushed that out of his mind and decided to focus on his freedom.