#i have a gaming session tonight and no dice that seem to work

[neonponders]

Inspired by @gorbovsky-l ‘s art ✨🏀

[ Steve goes to the s4 basketball game but it’s for Billy. ]

~ my drabbles anthology on ao3 ~

• • •

Steve was grumpy, he could admit that. Well, he could admit it now that it had been a few hours. That didn’t stop him and Robin having an immature spat in the car over over Fast Times with the word boobies flying around.

Then, “Just get whatever is occupying your braincell off your shoulders, already.”

Steve’s jaw had dropped, openly gaping at the road towards Hawkins High. “We’re talking about your love life - lack thereof.”

“Hush.”

“Oh, am I talking or hushing?”

Robin burst out into tired, 7am giggles. “You’re so petty when you miss him.”

Steve sighed through his nose in defeat. He did miss him. Between the summer, the school year starting for the new batch of seniors, and winter basketball camp, Steve felt like he rarely saw his boyfriend. He had a green Hargrove 7 jersey in his trunk since the team was using the white jerseys for their final game, and that in itself was annoying.

Come get your jersey.

Come see me.

Steve couldn’t even fault Billy for being committed to something. He just wished it was a little more Steve and a lot less basketball.

But everything was fine. The bubble was about to break. They were finally having a home game, and it was the championship to boot. Steve’s back seat was crowded to show for it with Robin’s band attire: feather duster helm and all.

Steve was a sap. He knew it. He was ready for something long haul, but he hadn’t grown too far from the feeling of being a senior. He knew what it felt like to be a strong, upperclassman. Looked up to. On the verge of the rest of his life. He didn’t want to steal that from Billy just because they’d spent the summer being split up by jobs, hospitals, school, basketball camp...saving the world from a catastrophe that nearly took Billy away forever.

Maybe Steve wasn’t being too unreasonable.

But it also meant that Billy needed normalcy more than ever. He certainly deserved it.

So Steve dropped Robin off, and he went to Family Video for the long wait before tonight’s basketball game. The phone usually wasn’t too busy during the day, but he could predict some noise around lunchtime and the end of his shift. Today, lunchtime rang.

“Family Video, this is Steve.”

“Steve! It’s me.”

“Oh, hey, Dustin,” Steve greeted in something just a little better than a monotone. As if Dustin didn’t call from the school’s payphone every other day. “What’s up?”

Steve slowly grimaced as Dustin told him he had to fill in for Lucas at that night’s D&D campaign. Dustin got demoted back to his last name.

“Henderson, I graduated. I can’t go to your silly club session.”

“Well, Lucas has his stupid basketball game!”

“It’s not stupid. It’s the championship. You, me, and Max all know how much work he and the team have been putting into this season.”

The team. Billy. Billy was the team. Even with his injuries, recovery, and hard ass mindset that made him a lousy patient, Billy still maintained the stage presence to run the court.

He was still an asshole, but an observant one that had him taking Steve’s place as captain instead of the entitled judge’s son, Jason Carver. Billy might’ve been mean on the court but he was indifferent - even nice - in the locker room. Carver played nice on the court but wasn’t so nice off stage. Everyone’s doubts at the start of the season had been quickly put to rest.

“It’s a game, Steve - ”

“And your weird board game isn’t?”

“D&D involves weeks of plot, strategy, improvisation, and the statistical gamble of dice - ”

“Yeah, I seem to remember weeks of planning, myself. Whatever, I’ll be at the school supporting your friend for you. Uh oh, customers. Gotta go. Bye.”

“No- Steve!”

He was pretty sure he could hear Dustin cussing him out even though the phone was back on its mount. He smiled at the customers and tried to keep his glances at the clock to a minimum.

The day was easy until 4pm. Steve almost leapt out of his skin when he realized school had ended. Old habits. Today, it did mean the end of his shift, though, so he clocked out and went home to freshen up.

Freshen up for what, he didn’t know. He might have some old habits but he’d forgotten how stuffy the gymnasium could get during a game. Probably because he usually spent games on the spacious court, not the stands -

“Hey, Steve!”

He rotated to see...Stacie. No. De-uh-B-Brenda! “Brenda, hi.”

Her teased and permed hair floated around her as she smiled and walked with him into the gym. “How are you? It’s so weird. Like, half our class is gone, and the rest are hard to find.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Steve said, even though he didn’t, really. All of his enduring friends were younger. With the exception of a very - tragic - few, they were somehow all alive, too.

Brenda meant alumni who had moved away. Steve didn’t contribute this much.

Predictably, spaces were available in the bleachers next to the band. People usually didn’t want to be right next to the noise, but this meant he could be close to Robin. He kept his tone jovial and polite as he curtly gestured at the bleachers. “I’m heading up.”

“Sure!” she chimed, accepting his hand for a boost. Not really his intention, but he’d never had any issue with Brenda. She was nice, smelled good. Great at math but just as crap as he was in Mrs. Click’s English. She tasted like bubble gum when they made out at a football game three years ago. All things considered, she and Steve were on easy footing.

Until Tammy Thomson showed up to sing the National Anthem.

He and Robin caught each other’s side-eye the same time. Told you, he mouthed. Muppet -

“Wow,” Brenda breathed. “She sounds amazing, doesn’t she?”

Steve smiled on autopilot, and just as quickly recoiled once her head had turned back to the performance.

He tried not to rock too strongly on his feet. He didn’t need everyone on the bleachers looking at him like x-ray vision, making him feel exposed and ready to scream over how he needed Robin’s sass, the weekend, a freaking burger, and Billy to run his mouth. A lot of mouth. A lot of...

Steve raked his hands through his hair, stuck between thinking the world of his boyfriend out there on the court and the fact that they were losing. The white jersey actually covered all of Billy’s scars, but Steve and Robin could see his fatigue arriving faster than the rest of the team. They glanced at each other, only interrupted by Max manifested between them.

“Hey,” Steve frowned. “Have you been here the whole time?”

She glanced at him, deadpan. “Duh. Which of us is going to convince him to sit on the bench?”

Steve blew air between his lips so they vibrated. “I thought you knew him better than I did. Billy doesn’t take losing well.”

Max glared at him. “He’s going to have a heart attack.”

“He’s in good hands,” Steve defended, but he could feel his confidence rapidly draining. “Peter Townsend is diabetic and the couches always kept an eye on him.”

Max grimaced at him like he had spoken another language, but as soon as she tried to say more, their coach called for a timeout. The team huddled up, and it wasn’t a big wonder why. Their best player had more than run out of steam, he’d overspent himself, and they only had a minute left to get anything done. Covered in sweat and rocking with their breaths, the team listened to Carver arguing with coach until a decision had been made. They needed a fresh player who could make the most out of a minute, and they had one.

“SINCLAIR! You’re in!”

Max and Steve heard the freshman gawk. “Huh?”

“You’re in! Son, let’s go!”

He ditched his warm-up jacket and ran into the huddle for the plan. Steve crossed his arms after giving Max a tug on her jacket so she would get off the stairs and stand with him. Billy would skin them alive later if they made a scene of approaching him on the bench, so they had to stay put.

To everyone’s trepidation, shock, and jubilant relief, Lucas delivered. Saving the world a few times had made him sharp, adaptable, and frugal with every second. The nerd managed to convert all of it into a game he had only started playing this summer.

And to top it off, he landed the final shot. Hawkins High won the game.

Steve exploded, jumping and yelling and waving his arms. Max screamed Lucas’s name, clapping her hands until her palms glowed scarlet. When the referee’s whistle coupled the scoreboard in announcing the game over, the team crowded around Lucas and Billy, and the court flooded with people.

Steve moved through the crowd easily with Max in tow, and finally - finally - got a face full of Billy. Running made his hair light and fluffy, eyes glowing as he realized who were holding onto him.

He called, “Hang on! Hang on!” and Steve let him go as the team finally set Lucas down onto his feet after hoisting him up. Billy gripped his shoulder for his attention, and Lucas accepted his hand. “Not bad, Sinclair. Not bad.”

Lucas beamed, only for his smile to drop into shock at seeing Max. “Max! You came?”

“Yeah, whatever,” she scoffed, but with a smile. Then Lucas hugged her and she looked ready to punch him. “Oh- Ew. Gross, you’re disgusting. How are you this sweaty after only a minute?”

The older teammates laughed for some reason but they all got hustled into the locker room - including Steve. He didn’t realize his blunder until the coach started doing a congratulatory speech to the team, and Steve slipped behind a wall of lockers to head toward the door...but he didn’t leave. He wanted to know what the coach had to say on Billy’s behalf. He wanted to know how the team treated him and Lucas.

He both got it and didn’t, since the coach tactfully uplifted everyone without dragging out everyone’s flaws. That was good. Billy couldn’t take a compliment without being reminded of how he had to sit out the rest of the game. More importantly, the coach spoke about how grateful he was to have the seniors under his wings after such a year.

For a gut-wrenching second, Steve thought the coach was going to mention the kids who were still “missing” from the summer.

He didn’t. He kept the room on high feelings, warning the rest of the team that winning a championship wouldn’t make things easy next season, and that they had summer training to look forward to. He reminded them to clean up after themselves, and saw himself out right as somebody unearthed a boombox from their gym bag.

“Why the hell did you bring that thing?”

“To either celebrate or wallow in our sorrows,” came the reply, followed by laughter and rowdy singing...

Steve looked up when a pair of pants was thrown over the wall of lockers. Right under the waistband of the sweatpants, was a Hawkins tiger, and a yellow number seven. Steve smiled and yanked it all the way onto his side.

Billy soon followed, coming around the lockers to find his pants in Steve’s hands. A bright smile flashed on his face before he reigned it in and sauntered toward him. He had to get close to be heard over the noise of music, singing, and locker rattling. “You’re a weird dust bunny.”

Thank goodness for the noise, because Steve snorted as he reached for him. “Come here.”

Billy let him. Billy never would’ve let him before July of 1985. But Billy let him now, cradling the sweaty-damp junction of his skull and neck, nuzzling his nose with Billy’s to encourage Billy to finish the distance. Billy’s lips were soft, unbearably soft and insistent. His arms initially went around Steve’s body, hands sliding over his shoulder blades and then down, down to give the hillocks of his ass cheeks a lift.

At least Billy had some tact, because the bubble burst and Steve tilted his head for more. Billy’s hands lifted up for his waist, incidentally hiking up Steve’s grey shirt but no further. Lockers chimed behind Billy’s back when Steve pushed him against them. Steve felt more than heard Billy’s low hum in his throat, the vibration on his lips and the breath from his nose.

Steve didn’t care that Billy had a game’s worth of sweat and filth on his skin. The only thing keeping him in check was his concern for Billy’s heart and lungs. Kissing made him out of breath, sometimes. For Steve it was as blissful as it was scary.

But this time, Billy chased his lips when he pulled back. His hand found Steve’s hair and Steve felt teeth in their kiss -

A locker slammed over the music, inducing someone to holler, “Sinclair! You comin’ tonight?”

“Uh, let me think on it. I’m gonna shower real fast!”

Billy stepped off where he’d been leaning against the lockers and Steve composed himself in time for Lucas to step into view. He tried to play it casual, but his wide eyes said, Scram, already!

Steve smiled bashfully and waved him away. To Billy, he asked, “Are you coming over?”

Billy scoffed and Steve couldn’t blame him. Big championship party tonight -

“You joking? I’m moving in. I’m exhausted and I want pancakes everyday for the next week.”

A stupid giggle spat out of him. He might’ve actually spit a little. Steve felt like he could cry. He didn’t, though. He’d cried enough for a whole summer.

“Deal... How do I get out of here?”

Billy smirked and nodded his head toward the bathroom side of the locker room. “We’re about to run Sinclair out of the showers.”

[eriquin]

The Prophetic D&D Game, Part 13

Start of the 4th session. Lucas is missing from this one.

(master post)

Part 13

“I can’t make it to Hellfire tonight,” Lucas said at lunch. He looked squeamish about telling the group. “Basketball.” 

The other players in the club looked to Eddie. He was flipping through an issue of Dragon magazine that he’d picked up recently. The cover promised details about playing parallel worlds that seemed relevant. He only glanced up for a moment. “That’s fine,” he said. “I’ve got the next bit of the Cursed plotted out. We can play without you.” 

Lucas still looked nervous. “But, is Sadie going to be okay?” 

Dustin clapped his hand on Lucas’ shoulder. “She’s got her own personal bard, my man,” he said. “She’ll be fine.” 

Eddie snorted. “Henderson does not know what horrors I have in store for the party,” he said. “But yeah, she’s likely to survive another session. It’s the one after it that you should be worried about.” He grinned at Lucas, who gulped and nodded. 

So they went back to the Cursed that afternoon. Eddie privately lamented the fact that the cult of Vecna was unlikely to wrap up before spring break at the rate they were going, but his players seemed equally interested in the murder mystery plot. He figured he had another two or three sessions of that, though he really wanted Lucas to be back for the last one. Sadie was a key character and he didn’t want to have to play her himself to get through the end game. Maybe he’d luck out, the Tigers would lose a game, and he’d get his player back. 

“All right, folks,” Eddie said. “Time to get back to our intrepid little investigators. Where were we?”

“There was a third murder, but it wasn’t Sadie,” Gareth said. “We managed to save her just in the nick of time.” 

“And Quinn is missing again,” Dustin said. “Also, the guards are now super convinced that he’s the killer.” 

“How are you so sure he isn’t?” Eddie asked with a grin. 

“Well, we were in the creepy mansion when the torches started doing their creepy demonic thing, and he was out on the boat. Pretty sure it’s not him, unless he can co-locate with the demon realm,” Dustin said. 

“That’d be a cool trick,” Grant said. He paused for a second and pointed at Eddie. “You didn’t hear that. Don’t get any ideas.”

Eddie grinned. “I see all and hear all, Grant-man. No undoing it now.” He turned back to Mike. “Did they catch you up on what happened while you were gone?” 

“Yeah,” Mike said. “Sounded creepy. Kind of sucks that I didn’t get to fight the spiders.”

“Well, maybe you’ll get to fight something today,” Eddie said. “So you’ve got one cursed girl in your party and who knows how many more out there in Kiteshire. What are you going to do now?”

“We don’t have a lot of leads,” Jeff said. “But I vote for sticking together this time.” 

“Yeah,” Dustin said. “I say we try to find Quinn again. Maybe he saw something that the guards didn’t.” 

“Works for me,” Mike said. “All in favor?” 

The rest of the group agreed, but didn’t have any ideas for how to go about finding him now that he had vacated his hiding spot. Dustin suggested the same bird trick that he’d used when trying to contact Maya and Natalia. 

Eddie rolled some dice. “Funny you should mention that,” he said. “While you’re all standing around in the woods, debating how to find Quinn, a little red fox runs up to Gaten and sits around until he notices it. It’s got a leather pouch tied to its neck.”

“Oh! Duh, Quinn is also a bard,” Dustin said. “I take the pouch from the fox. What’s in it?”

“A note saying the writer is waiting for Gaten at the Giant’s Head.” 

“Is it from Quinn?” 

“It’s unsigned,” Eddie said, “but yes, you recognize the handwriting as his.” 

“What’s the Giant’s Head?” Mike asked. “Is it a tavern?”

Eddie grinned. “Why doesn’t everyone roll against their wisdom to see if they recognize the term?” 

As a group, they rolled poorly. Only Mike had a good result. Eddie sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “Okay, good job everyone. Mike, do you want me to tell you in private or are you just going to share it with the group?” 

Mike grinned. “Man, if I actually know something the rest of them don’t? I’m telling everyone.” 

“All right, then. The Giant’s Head is a rock formation deep in the forest, in the shape of, well, a giant’s head. It might actually be a petrified giant. No one knows.” 

Grant groaned. “Really, Eddie? You mean Skull Rock?” 

Eddie shushed him. “Anyway, Joe thinks he knows the way to get there. Mike, does Joe have any sort of tools for navigating the woods, or would he rely on Natalia for this?” 

“Eddie’s probably never even been to Skull Rock,” Gareth muttered. Jeff and Grant snickered.

“Yes I have, assholes,” Eddie said. “And quit it. This isn't the same thing.”

“It’s so the same thing,” Jeff said.

“Okay, what’s Skull Rock?” Dustin asked. “It’s clearly some kind of Hawkins in-joke. Just tell us and get it over with.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and gestured at the older players. “Go ahead, experts. Explain to the freshmen of what you speak.” 

“It’s a makeout spot in the woods,” Jeff said. “Bunch of big rocks that look like a skull. That’s literally all it is.”

Mike snorted. “Oh, so that’s why Joe’s the only one who knows how to get there.” 

Dustin laughed. “You’re right,” he said. “And here I thought it was bards that were supposed to be kind of slutty, not paladins.”

“Well, paladins do have the immunity to diseases,” Gareth said. “So they’ve got that going for them.” 

“Hey, let’s be fair about this,” Eddie said. “It’s an equal opportunity game. Both paladins and bards can be huge tramps.” 

“Joe especially,” Mike said. “Yeah, let’s go find his favorite makeout spot. I’ll bet he invented the damn thing.” Dustin started snickering.

“And how are you finding it?” Eddie asked. 

“I just use my innate slut-skills to guide the way,” Mike said. The whole table was starting to giggle along now. “It’s like a divining rod, but see, it’s in my pants.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie said, putting his head down on the table to try to stop laughing. “I will let you just find the place if you stop talking about your fictional character’s genitalia.” 

“Hey, I’m a bard!” Dustin said. “I should also be able to find the makeout spot.” 

“Oh God, no,” Eddie said. “You have to actually use a compass or something.” 

“I have that!” Dustin pulled out the second page of his character sheet and pointed at his item list. “I have a compass. I can use that.” 

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “Sure, Henderson,” he said. “In fact, why don’t you two both roll and tell me what you get.”

“What am I rolling against?” Mike asked. 

“Charisma, obviously.” 

“Sweet.”

Tagging: @weirdandabsurd42, @10moonymhrivertam

[rogue-at-heart]

palettes for other players’ characters? easy. palettes for my own PCs? impossible.

[obey-me-disaster]

-Proposing to-

Leviathan x gn!MC

A/N: This is part 3 of the series 'Proposing To'

I would like to say a special thank you to threadtheocracy on twitter /@thread-theocracy on tumblr for letting me use their ideas for the brothers from their DnD AU. You should definetely check them out.

Also another special thank you to my DM cause the setting of the DnD campaign and the NPCs were made by him ^-^.

Also, anything between ‘ �� is when a character in the campaign talks.

"Do you remember what we have talked about?" You said facing six out of the seven brothers.

"Yes, we all have of our characters sheets and everyone has their own set of dice. But are you sure this will work? I've never really played DnD but I know quests can get quite side tracked" Satan couldn't help but raise his concerns, and he wasn't entirely wrong either. While the brothers were on the plan, the story could still take another route, but you were the one that decided to propose to Levi, the only brother missing from the table at the moment, through a DnD game.

Once you got this idea into your head you couldn't get it out. You had to ask the brothers to play in the campai cause DnD session with only one person playing the story...wasn't bound to be any good. You stayed up late coming up with both a story and character sheets for the brothers so that the campaign can be good, but you couldn't help but feel nervous.

What if the story goes into other direction? Do you just continue through multiple sessions until you reach the point where you propose? Do you give up? Change the point of the story where you propose? Negative thoughts started to cloud your mind, making you doubt yourself and your plan, but those didn't last long once you felt someone pat your back. "Don't ya worry about anything! We're gonna be on our best behaviour tonight!" With a moment to calm yourself gained some of your confidence back and just in time as you heard a knock on the door.

"Um, MC? You told me to come here for a surprise, can I open the door?" You nearly tripped over your own feet trying to get to the door, ignoring the snickering coming from the other brothers. Checking yourself once more you opened the door. "You came just in time, take a place on that empty chair over there".

As Levi made his way into the room he couldn't help but notice the character sheets, the different types of dices and some maps sitting on the table. "Don't tell me...ARE WE REALLY GOING TO PLAY DND?! This isn't a prank isn't it? My self esteem couldn't handle that after just getting a bad ending in Mystical Messenger!!" After handing him his own character sheet you were fast to reasure him. "It's neither a dream not a prank, I've decided to make a little surprise for you. Tho this will be only a one-shot and not a full blown campaign"

The last part seemed to fall on deaf ears as Levi was reading his character sheet. "You made me a warlock with the fathomless pact?! HOW- How did you even know I wanted to be that?! MC you're the best Henry I could ever ask for!"

"Soon they'll be more than that" Satan slapped Mammon across the head. "Don't listen to this moron. Do you want to check our characters too before the session?" Hearing that Levi snapped his head towards the forth born. "You didn't even have to ask, of course I want to seem them."

The only sounds that could be heard after everyone handed their character sheets to Levi, were him muttering about something or nodding. "Ok so from my understand Lucifer is an oathbreaker paladin, Mammon is a wild card rogue, Satan is a ranger, to be precise a beast master conclave with a bunch of cats...why am I not surprised." Switching between papers he continues reading "Asmo is a bard, LMAO of course he is a bard. Beelzebub is a beast barbarian and Belphegor is a druid of the dream circle....huh, not totally surprised but I thought he would be a druid of the star circle."

After reading the last of the character sheets he hands them back to each brother. "Now that everyone has their characters back, WHAT ARE WE WAITING FOR!? Let's get the session started" And with him saying that, it was your cue to start.

"Ok everyone, pay close attention for the story is about to start." Making sure everyone was paying attention you felt ready to start the story "Your party is here for a common goal, to find the cave of All Treasures. The cave is said to give one thing a person may need or want, no matter how expensive, rare or even dangerous it may be. Each one of you has one thing they desire the most so you got together, a group of strangers, minus Belphie and Beel who actually know eachother-"

"Of course they know each other, you can't really separate can you?" Both Satan and Levi turned towards Asmo, with sour expressions on their faces. "Asmo please shut up-" "Yeah shut up! I am trying to listen to MC." The third born turned towards you with a look you only see when he is playing his favourite games ot watching his favourite animes. "Please go on with the story".

"-anyway...The thing that everyone wants the most is written on your character sheets. Please keep it to yourself for now." Taking out a map of the world the session is taking place in you pointed different places of importance on it." You are currently in Be'heel, but you need to get to Bellanova where the cave is rumored to be, but to get there you need a ship. Currently your group is in the port trying to find one. What are your characters doing?"

All the brothers are in deep thought, some of them looking like a child lost on a random street, it kind of reminds you of your first dnd session. Finally Levi seemed to get an idea. "Can I roll for perception? That way I might find a good ship". Handing him his set of dices you let him roll. "And it's a 13, not bad Levi! Your character sees a lot of expensive ships that you might not be able to afford, but just as you were about to give up you noticed a pirate ship. It seemed to stay afloat with the power of black magic, hope and duct tape"

"Ya know, a pirate ship ain't seem like a bad idea, we might get some treasure too!" Mammon looked really proud of his reasoning. "Is treasure all you think about? But I guess at least checking out that ship doesn't sound like a bad idea. My character picks up his cats and heads towards the suspicious ship". After making sure everyone was on the same page you continued to narrate the campaign.

"As everyone makes their way towards the ship, you see a guy coordinating people on carrying stuff. Do you want talk with him?" Everyone looks at each other before giving you a nod. "I will do the talking! No man can resist my charm~" Asmo winked at you as if you were the pirate he was about to try and charm. "Hey! No winking towards my Henry!" Levi looked like he wanted to grab you and hold far away from his brother .

"No need to fight guys! Asmo, you can try talking with him, and since you are new to this I will give you an advice, please roll arcana or perception first, believe me, you'll need it." Asmo looked between the dices confused before you just handed him the right one.

"And you rolled, 20! Holy shit, do you have a plus on your perception?" Everyone turned their attention to Asmo, some knowing what rolling a 20 ment while others just looking confused. "Hmmm, I think I have a +3? What does that mean?" Asmo gave you his character sheet in order for you to check it out. "Yeah it's a +3, and that's wonderfull news! With a roll of 23 you are able to sense he is no ordinary person, he seems to have some higher power to him, a person not make your enemy. Now that you are aware of all of this, Asmo you can make your move"

The avatar of lust looks through his character sheet confused, before just putting them away "This is too confusing, since this is role play I will just do it the old fashioned way~" Clearing his throat he leans in towards you. 'You got a pretty nice ship over there, just perfect to also take me and my group to a little place called Bellanova right?' Pretty satisfied with his introduction you turned towards the others "Do any of you want to add anything else?".

Levi takes a deep breath before taking one of the dices "Can I roll for persuasion? We still need to find out who this pirate is, and I am not about to make the same mistake as that one backround character from One Slice!" Seeing him get some courage made you happy, it was a sign that the whole proposal plan has big chances to work. You were a bit afraid that the other brothers will take the lead and not let him actually shine. "Of course! While you roll you can think of what you want to say"

Taking the dice he roll and lands on a...19! "I also have a +1 so that makes it a 20! Can't believe I actually got so much.." The avatar of envy looked a bit in disbelief. "Anyway! I turn towards the character and say 'Sorry for my friends bold approach, my group is searching for a way to get to Bellanova and we wondered if we could board on your ship in case you go there? Can we also get you name?'" Levi seemed to really get into his role of an adventurer but that was to be expected, he always did better when it came to playing the role of a character he liked.

Deciding that was enough for the character to be receptive you chose to make their game easier. "The pirate seems to take into consideration what you have just told him. His hight is average, he's lean and athletic with piercing blue eyes and has medium long hair that looks meticulously messy with jade beads in it. 'The name is Jean, and it seems you guys got pretty lucky. My crew is just about to head towards Bellanova. We also got more free space than usal since some people of our normal crew are in a mission in Brennux so you are welcome to join us on our ship, Lady Fortuna's Lament' "

Seeing as they got a ship some of the brothers high fived between each other. "Good job Levi, ya got us on the ship!" Mammon ruffled Levi's hair.

After you let their characters explore the ship, interact with the NPCs and find out more about the NPCs that were away. And to Asmo's dismay, Jean was taken by one of the NPCs that was away, and seducing him didn't work either. You've even decide to give them a fight agaisnt a sea monster in order to take advantage of Levi's character. And just as he planned he finally summoned his pact. You made sure that instead of tentacles to use one of Lotan's head, just as an element of familiarity for him.

"I GOT 24, MC THAT HITS DOESN'T IT?!" Levi showed you his dice and modifier for spells and you couldn't help but think how well this plays into your plan, for him to have his main character moment and save the others. You were planning on having that be the finishing blow no matter what damage he rolls, but he just so happens to roll for damage high enough to kill the monster. "And with that move you kill the monster, do you want to describe how you kill it?"

Levi's eyes lit up, seeing the chance to describe how his character defeats an actual monster! "THIS IS MY CHANCE! SO! I summon Lotan, the waves around us are getting bigger, and more violent yet they are not affecting our ship. Even the sea monster is getting trashed around, and as it is about to retreat into the ocean one of Lotan's head bursts out and bites the beast's neck, dealing a fatal blow"

After letting Levi have his main character moment you called for a time skip so that not only the ship arrives in Bellanova but they also get near the place where the cave is rumored to be. You would have dragged it out a bit longer, making the brothers look for clues and ask NPCs, but you could see some the brothers losing their patience. Not out of boredom, but out of exciment to see Levi's reaction to his surprise.

You made sure to add little detail to either NPCs or the description of places that reminded him of different animes and games he likes, to add to the fact that this entire campaign and world was made only for him. You worried that this might not be romantic enough for a proposal but when you stayed and think about it, creating a whole world, fictional or not, for your lover is romantic in a way.

"Ok guys, your group seems to be close to the cave of All Treasures. The problem is that there are a lot of cave in these mountains, full of monsters and traps. How do you go about finding the right cave?" All of the brothers start to discuss between themselves on the best course of action. A bunch of ideas were put up for discussion just to be ignored a second later. Some of your favourite ideas were: Asmo charming some random monster to show them where the cave of treasures were, Satan sending some of his cats to scout the caves which he quickly shout down. In the end they all decided to roll for perception to see if there are any clues around.

"Mammon and Levi both rolled an 18! Since you guys had the highest scores I will explain what your characters see." All the brothers leaned in to listen carefully to what you were about to say. "Your characters see a ghost like figure of a young girl in a pink hat and dress with light brown haired tied in two pig tails smiling at you. She looks like she wants you guys to follow her."

"A GHOST!? No way I'm going there!" At the mention of the ghost Mammon looked through his character sheet for anything that could him get rid of the spirit. "IDIOT! It's not just some ghost! That description...it must be Ruri-chan or a look alike, we have to follow her! MC my character is going after the ghost." Levi looked like he was about to run for real, and not only in the game, but you have decided to not comment on that, at least not yet.

"Does everyone agree to follow the ghost? Or do you have something else in your mind?" While you did ask the rest for their opinion, you gave them just a small signal that only they could see using magic to tell them to play along, the end of the campaign is over. After everyone agreed to go into the cave you went on with the final parts of the story.

"As your characters followed the ghost of the little girl, you could hear her say that she only allows people she deems worthy enough to see the cave, and that the last person she took to this cave was a tiefling with her baby daughter named Natasha a long time ago." You started to feel a little bit nervous, with the big reveal of the treasures coming soon.

"All of you enter in what you can only describe was a paradise. It no longer looked like a cave but royal room fit for a king. If any of you didn't know any better you would have thought you were teleported into a castle. Tables of food and drinks, piles of gold, bookshelves full of maps and books and 7 treasure chests were waiting for you. The little ghost turns towards your group to say her final words 'I have brought you to your destination. Feel free to eat and drink to your heart's content! The things you want the most each lie inside the treasure chests, one for each person.' And with that the spirit vanished."

You gasped for air after that part, you tried to talk as you normally do, but by the end you got a bit agitated. "I guess this is the end of the session. We should open the treasure chests in the order we showed up to the session." Lucifer said as a matter of fact. You were a bit confused for a second before you realized that Levi was the last one, so you had enough time to calm yourself before the proposal, you really need to thank Lucifer after you're done here.

Levi tried to argue about it, not wanting to be the last but the others were quickly to shut him up, all of them having understood Lucifer's plan. "Since we are going in that order, Lucifer is the first one. Your character walks up to the chest with his name on it and when he opens it he finds a crystal. To the others it doesn't seem that special but you could feel it's powers and you knew that this the cure of the curse that made you break your pact as a paladin." To make things seem more 'realistic' you handed Lucifer a fake crystal.

Turning to Mammon you beging to explain what he found in his treasure chests and you did the same to the rest of the brothers, each getting some item relevant to their character. Belphie got a star chart left by some old druid of the star circle, Satan got some clues that would help him in an investigation for his character and so on.

Facing Levi you finally begin the speech you have prepared just for this moment. "Your character's turn finally comes to open his treasure chest. As he opens it he can only dream of a legendary magical stuff that he might get, but to his surprise he sees a beautiful silver ring, in the shape of three tentacles wrapped around a dark blue stone. As your character was about to pick up the ring, the silhouette of their loved one appeared getting down on one knee." With that sentence all the brothers besides Levi got up and left the room, leaving the two of you alone.

"MC? What is the meaning of this? Is this part of the story?" Looking at him you didn't know if he was in denial of what was happening or simply confused but it didn't matter to you at the moment. "You can say this is part of the session in a way, but I have to tell you the truth. The whole DnD campaign was made as a way to propose to you. I made this whole world and made sure to put references to things you like just for you!"

You watched as the realization sunk in, his eyes going wide. "You don't mean that you want to marry me right? You made this whole story just for me? Are you sure you want to marry, there are so many better demons out there!" You took his hand, hovering with the ring just above his finger. "There is no doubt in my heart that I want only you. I love you and our time that we spend together, and there is no question about who I want to spend the rest of my life with."

Looking into his eyes you could tell that he calmed down, but now he seemed to be flustered from the sweet things he just heard. You guessed as along as he doesn't faint before you propose it was better that way. "The only question is if you'll accept me. Levi, will you marry me?"

Tears runned down his face, not being able to believe what just happen. This was better than any scenario he could have imagined. "YES I WANT TO MARRY YOU! I want to you to be my player 2, to be my Henry to my Lord of Shadows, of course I am not gonna say no!". A sigh of relieve that you didn't even knew you were holding escaped your mouth as you finally placed the ring on his finger.

You got up in order to wipe his tears and kiss him, but that moment of tenderness was ruined when both of you heard cheering from the other side of the door. "Wait a second...my brothers knew about the whole plan?" Levi seemed to have a moment of realization right there and then. "How did you think I got all of them in the same place to play dnd? But from what I remember they were supposed to leave the two of us alone for good to have our moment." You said the last part throwing a glare towards the door. "Well it doesn't matter now, how about we go and celebrate our engagement somewhere else, where we will not get interupted?" You winked at him as you said the last part and it didn't take a lot for him to understand what you ment, his face already getting hot. "Just lead the way and I will follow you, MC."

[inkdemonapologist]

SESSION TWELVE of the BatIM Call of Cthulhu game, aka Continuing to have a Great Time At The Masquerade! : )

Joey and Bendy destabilised early on, meaning Joey went through the ENTIRE masquerade UNABLE TO STOP SMILING

getting some mixed messages here, Joey

Sometimes u dress ur characters up as rabbits for fun but then you have a lot of emotions about them losing their minds and then u gotta draw them losing their minds while dressed as rabbits... anyway Jack being mind-controlled did NOT help Sammy hold onto his mental stability at this nightmare party in case you were wondering,

ANYWAY HAVE, MORE OUT-OF-CONTEXT QUOTES, UNDER THE CUT

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[GM] Joey, make a POW roll also... [Joey] Oh, boy, [GM] ...because Bendy was also told to enjoy this party, and you guys just passed a plate of food, and he wants to eat! [Jack] FEED YOUR SON! [Joey] No!!! [Henry] HES A HUNGRY BOY! [Sammy] A GROWING BOY!

[Henry] Henry will look back to see if Moonlight is trying to follow them! [GM] He will see that Moonlight has grabbed onto the railing of the stairs and is hobbling slowly down them. [Joey] *extremely evil-sounding cackling*

[Jack] All Cthulhu Official Dice actually come weighted, to make you fail.

[Henry] Gotta try harder than that, bitch! [Henry] ....that wasn't in character. [Jack] It's in character, but he's only thinking it. [Sammy] That's the golden text you see on the wall if you use the seeing tool

[Henry] My Luck is 68, I don't know what y'all are doing! [Jack] We're spending Luck so that we'll fail! [Sammy] BEING UNLUCKY! I've barely spent any Luck, I'm just NOT A LUCKY GUY

[Henry] Oh, Avedon's here, [GM] There's a gunshot, and he tries to shoot Fowler! [Joey] Um, well, uh, whoops!, rest in peace Fowler! [Sammy] Yeah, that'll sort itself out, let's go! [GM] Moonlight seems to reconsider from telling people to grab you guys, to grabbing Avedon instead. [Joey] Oh! THANKS AVEDON, your sacrifice will, not be thought about in the slightest!!!

[Sammy] Is... weird question, does this room look like it matches the architecture of the rest of the house? [GM] [GM] [GM] ...make a sanity check.

[Sammy] It would be a like, Come on Jack, do you know where you are, shake it off, snap out of it, kind of thing. [GM] Why don't you make a... a.... oh boy, [Sammy] One of my REALLY persuasive social skills?

[GM] This probably just registers to Jack as, Sammy griping about a party, which isn't that strange. [Jack] Yeahhhh, he wants to leave. He always does that. I wanna stay at least a little longer! [GM] That just means it's Jack's job to find them something fun and good to do. [Sammy] Oh boy, [GM] I don't think Jack is being compelled to be aggressive about this necessarily, he just feels like he's Jack at a party, doing the things Jack normally does, and trying to have a good time! [Sammy] Ah, and everyone else is being weird, [GM] Yeah! Everybody's being really weird! You're at this nice party, and now you're in this weird room? The party's back there somewhere! [Jack] I mean not that he's opposed to bein' dragged into side rooms at parties by cute boys, but,

[GM] The table looks like a table that Henry has in his house, actually. [Sammy] Have I ever been in Henry's house? These are questions I didn't expect to need to ask tonight.

[Sammy] Jack, this is weird! You see this is weird, right?! [Jack] Well yeah, it is kinda weird that we're in-- what are we doing here? [Joey] Joey is going to grab Jack's arm, and point to the next door, and go "Party is this way!"

[GM] Peter looks worried... [Sammy] Sammy looks worried too! Well, Sammy looks angry, but in a worried way.

[Joey] Joey is going to scream frustratedly. [Sammy] Is there ink in this room? [GM] There is not. [Jack] Is there a party in this room? [GM] Definitely no, only the party you bring with you.

[Joey] Joey is going to scream again. [Joey] He's also going to kick the door. He might stub his toe. [Sammy] Through all this, Joey is smiling. I just need us all to remember that. [Joey] YES. Also his tail is furiously going. [GM] Bendy is also upset! There is nothing to eat here.

[Joey] Joey is going to try to feed Bendy some ideas, [GM] He doesn't want ideas, he wants food!

[Joey] So.... what happens if you fumble a sanity roll?

[GM] See, here's the silly part. At this point, right? At this point, the best place to do the tasks you want to do, involve either getting the stone out of the room with the safe, or having the staff that Henry is currently holding. [Sammy] So you would arrive, by completely different means, to the same place that we are! [GM] Clearly Joey is inside the safe.

[Jack] Bad and naughty Joey Drews get put in the safe to atone for their sins!

[Henry] Henry is going to channel his inner Joey Drew and round the corner and say "No, sorry about him, we're just here on inspection, we need to check the safe." [Henry] Which is probably a Fast Talk, which I hope it isn't, because my Fast Talk is a 5. [GM] Unless you wanna try to turn that into a persuade somehow? [Henry] I'll do Persuade! [GM] What are you doing to persuade them, rather than just lying? [Henry] *rolls* I failed... I'm gonna push it... [Sammy] *uneasy noises* IF YOU PUSH IT AND IT GOES BAD, IT GOES WORSE [Henry] AH! HAHA! I ROLLED A SIX! [Sammy] THAT'S STILL NOT LESS THAN FIVE! [Henry] WELL IM DOING PERSUADE! [Sammy] That means you have to NOT LIE! [Henry] ....Fuck. [Henry] Okay, uh, there's an emergency, we need the contents of that safe. [Sammy] THATS STILL A LIE??? [Joey] NO actually, THAT'S TRUE! [Henry] It IS an emergency!!

[Sammy] Sammy cannot believe that this is working.

[GM] Bendy does wonder what his plan is for getting out of the safe. This does not seem like a fun party place. [Joey] Um, [Joey] Joey says it's a surprise.

[GM] Henry, the safe does indeed open! And there's a Joey! [GM] Bendy says "Oh wow!" [Henry] Henry tries his best to keep a straight face, like yes! this is exactly what he came here for! [Sammy] (Sammy is NOT keeping a straight face) [Jack] (Straight? In this party?)

[Jack] He's probably saying something like, "What are you doing, he's one of us!" [Jack] And that could go either way. That could mean "No, he's chill, I will persuade you to stop!" Or that could mean, "We are also criminals!"

[GM, as the guards] Then why does he look like the Yellow King's messenger? [Henry] *not missing a beat* We get that a lot.

[GM] Something falls from the sky and lands in front of him. And it's a person! [Joey] Is he alive? [GM] Very much not. [Sammy] How... how Illusion of Living canon-compliant is this Joey...?

[Jack] So... it would probably occur to Jack that this is weird for a party,

[Henry] Joey don't touch it! [Joey] Why not? [Henry] There's runes around it. I don't know if you can touch it. [Joey] Joey's gonna touch it. [Henry] *long-suffering sigh* If you get zapped, I'll tell you I told you so!

[Jack] Jack really wishes we were just back at the party right now, you guys... [Jack] Only bad things have happened. [Jack] Pete's traumatised, Joey's goopy, the Lurker ate all of the snacks,

[Sammy] Can I try to break free from Henry? Sammy's gonna try to run over there. [Henry] At this point, Sam can go, if he wants. [Sammy] Okay, cool. Then Sammy's gonna go and put ink in his mouth! [Henry] Goddammit. I was hoping you were going to check on Joey!

[Joey] You can’t take all of the sanity hits! You have to leave some for other people! [Jack] Says you! You got so many temps!! And an indefinite!!

[GM] Bendy probably is complaining loudly about WHY DID HE WALK THROUGH THE RUNES??? [Joey] Oh! I thought he was going to complain about the party, or lack thereof, [GM] That’s part of not having fun at the party, he’s not into that! [Joey] Well, [GM] This is not a fun party activity!!

[GM] But he doesn’t think it will destroy either of them, if you do it right! [Jack] That’s a nice, way to end that sentence,

[Sammy] Let us hurry! May I take the stone? [Joey] Joey shrugs. [Sammy] Sammy will, uh, attempt to reach inside of... whatever this is, and find the stone. [Henry] Reach INTO your LOCAL boss, and you will find A Friend And Boy,

[Sammy] Is there anything in this room that I can pick up, and then hit him in the head with? [GM] Henry has a stick... uh....there’s a projector.... [Sammy] Can I pick that up? [GM] No, you cannot. [Sammy] It would be REALLY funny if Sammy dropped a projector on someone else’s head. [Sammy] HOW THE TURNTABLES!!!

[GM] ...Can you impale with a rocking horse...???? [Sammy] I don’t want to impale, I want to knock him in the head so he passes out!!! Rest your head, it’s time for bed!!!

[Jack] I don’t think Jack has any plans after this! [Jack] I meant that in the sense that he doesn’t know what he’s doing next, but the way I phrased it, now it just sounds like he’s hitting on Fowler, like, he doesn’t have anything to do after this, are you free? That’s not canon.

[Joey] I don’t know how this will go, [Sammy] Good luck! [Joey] But Joey would like to-- [Sammy] Sammy believes in half of you! [GM] w-which Sammy? wHICH HALF?!

[Jack] I know you said “note.” But my brain at first processed that word as “milk.” [Henry] *laughing* “Did you get my milk, Fowler?” [Jack] He drank the last carton and he didn’t buy more! [Sammy] “I’m going to the store, want me to get anything? *jumps into the lake*”

[GM] Combat Jack! [Jack] *exasperated* He’s not a Combat Boy! Jack is soft and warm, like mashed potatoes!!!

[GM] Norman is wondering to Henry if he oughta be concerned about you all getting what you want out of this. [Henry] .....Maybe.

[onetwosevensquad]

Dungeons and Dragons and... Love?: Dungeon Master

Mark Lee x Reader

Summary: the kind Dungeon Master who helps guide your team through your campaign also becomes your math tutor.

Warnings: none??

Rose: sorry this literally took forever to write. Hope your all still interested in this mini series. Next member is Renjun.

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

———

Why were you here again?

Oh right, cause you’re a giant nerd who needs an outlet.

The poster had caught your eye when you were headed to lunch one day. It was a beige poster with a 20 sided dice in the middle. That was what got your attention.

You had played Dungeons and Dragons with some of your friends before. It has been a few months since your last campaign and you didn’t know when the next one would start. So, in fear of not being able to escape to a fantasy world, you decided to check it out.

It was now 3:45 in the afternoon. School had ended 15 minutes ago, the hours ticking by slowly. You now stood outside of the AP Government classroom where Mr. Jung taught.

The poster, you remembered, said that Mr. Jung would oversee the club. He was your favorite teacher because he was funny and the class was enjoyable.

Finally, you slowly opened the door to the classroom and stepped in. In the middle of the room, a few desks had been pushed together to create a large table.

Sitting around the table were seven boys who were all staring at you. You awkwardly shifted your weight from one foot to the other, waiting for literally anyone to say something.

“Is this the d&d club?” You finally spoke.

“Y-yes,” the only boy who was standing said. You recognized him as Mark Lee. The cute, smart boy from calculus. “Yes, uh, grab a seat.”

You nodded and dragged a chair over to the only empty spot at the table. It was right next to Chenle, the loud basketball player you shared chemistry with.

“Well I’m pretty sure that we all know each other,” Mark said clearing his throat. “I’m not gonna make us do ice breakers cause literally no one likes those.”

“I do!” Haechan, the class clown that you also shared chemistry with.

“Only you,” Jeno, the star basketball player and probably the last person you expected here, commented. Haechan pouted and stuck his tongue out at Jeno.

“Anyway,” Mark said. “It’s my fist time DMing, but I have played before. Just so I know, who here has played before?”

You, along with Jisung, the quiet kid from history, Haechan, and Renjun, the kid from math who doesn’t do math but draws, raised your hands. Mark seemed to relax a bit when he saw there were at least a few experienced players.

“Well I guess this first meeting will be going over rules and how to play, then next time we’ll do character sheets,” Mark said.

———

It was now the third session and the first one of the start of you campaign. Last time, everyone made their characters, the atmosphere becoming less tense as time went on.

You made your character an Elf Wizard, something you’ve never played before. Everyone else had their own unique character combos, having fun coming up with the most ridiculous names for them.

Today, the party was slightly buzzing with excitement to finally start their campaign. You all gathered around the table giving character introductions, ready to get this show on the road.

Three hours, several rolls for initiative, and Haechan’s character almost dying later, Mr. Jung had to finally kick you all out of the building. The sun had already set and he was letting you way past what was allowed.

You realized how late it actually was and scrambled to get your stuff. You said a quick goodbye to the boys and Mr. Jung and sped off to get home before your parents killed you.

You get a ways down the hall when you heard someone running behind you.

“Y/n, wait up!” You turned to see Mark jogging to catch up with you. He stopped in front of you, breathing slightly harder. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you said back, smiling at the cute boy. You’ve never really had a full conversation with Mark. He’s quiet and, honestly, talking to someone attractive was a bit out of the realm of your comfort zone.

“C-can I have your number?” He said. Your eyes went wide and as did his when he realized what that sounded like. “So that I can add you to the group chat! Just in case anyone can’t make it or we cancel.”

“Yea, sure,” you said, slightly disappointed. You heard Mark exhale probably in relief that his save worked. You handed him your phone with your number displayed on the screen and he quickly put it in his.

“Thanks,” Mark said, handing you back your phone. You both stood there in the most suffocatingly awkward silence ever.

“Well bye,” you said turning to leave.

“Oh! Yea, uh, bye,” Mark said waving slightly. He turned back towards Mr. Jung’s room and you saw the other six boys crowded around. They were all giggling as Mark shoved that back into the room.

———

Six sessions and three weeks later, any morsel of awkwardness was gone. It was like you have known these seven boys your whole life.

The group chat blew up your phone with memes from that days session but didn’t you mind? No. Though sometimes at ungodly hours in the mornings, you still enjoyed the content.

On this particular day, you weren’t going to be able to join the session. Your calculus teacher was making you stay after school and retake a test that you failed miserably. You felt bad when you hand to text the group.

You: I can’t make it today

Haechan☀️: whyyyyyyy

You: I failed a calc test

You: I have to retake it

Lele🐬: thats stupid

Sungie: good luck Y/n

Injunie: yea gl

You: thanks boys

Marker: hey if you need any help studying for calc, I’d be happy to

jeNO: oh?

You: yea I’d like that, thanks

Minnie: ann I oop-

You laughed at Jaemin’s comment as you made your way to your calculus teachers classroom.

———

Considering the second time you took the test you barely past by the seat of your pants, you took Mark up on his offer to tutor you.

Today was the first day Mark was going to tutor you in the library. You walked in and saw him already set up at one of the tables in the very back.

“Hey,” you whispered. He smiled at you as you sat down next to him.

“Hey,” he said back. “Ready to get started?”

After about an hour and a half of Mark explaining different theorems to you, you were finally starting to get it. Whenever you asked a question, Mark would take the time to explain it to you carefully, making sure you got it along the way.

When he would give you a problem to solve, and you got it right, both of you would get excited, annoying the librarian. She ended up shushing you more than once.

“Hey, you hungry?” Mark asked.

“Not really,” you said. As if on cue, your stomach slightly growled, making Mark laugh. You looked down at your stomach, a pout on your face. “Traitor.”

“Come on,” Mark said between giggles. “Let’s get something to eat.”

You got your things and headed out of the library with Mark to get food.

———

For the next three weeks, this became your tradition. On the days the D&D club wasn’t meeting, you and Mark would study calculus in the library for about two hours, and then go get food. It always felt like a lot less time with Mark, him always making it enjoyable.

Today, you had a study session with Mark. As you neared the library, you noticed him standing outside the doors on his phone.

“Hey, what are you doing?” You asked. “I have a test tomorrow.”

“I know,” Mark said putting his phone away. “But you need a break.”

“Mark-“ you whined.

“No,” he said. “I think that you’re ready. You’ve made a lot of progress over the last couple weeks. Besides, they say you shouldn’t study the night before a test.”

“I don’t think that’s a thing,” you said crossing your arms.

“Maybe, I don’t know,” Mark said waving it off. “But, I do know that you’ve worked hard and whatever grade you get, I’m proud of you.”

You could feel your cheeks heating up at Mark’s words. You bit back a smile as he continued.

“So tonight we are not studying,” Mark said grabbing your hand and leading you away from the library. “We are going to the basketball game with the others to cheer on Chenle and Jeno.”

You didn’t protest as Mark led you down to the packed gym and over to where the rest of the boys were sat, waiting for the game to start.

———

After the game where your boys won, the party went out for dinner. Afterwards, Mark drove you home, the two of you talking about the game, D&D, or literally anything.

When Mark pulled into your driveway, he insisted on walking you to your steps. He said it was the gentlemanly thing to do.

“Hey,” Mark said when you got to your front door. “Good luck tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” you said.

“Tell me how it goes, ok?” He said. You nodded giving him a smile that he returned. “Good night.”

“Night,” you called after him as he went to his car.

———

At the end of the day, your calculus teacher had finished grading the tests. She told everyone to come pick them up before they left school.

When she handed your test to you, she had a big smile on her face. She made a comment about how nicely you did and how much you improved. When you finally saw the grade, you nearly passed out.

You practically ran to Mr. Jung’s room. D&D was today and you wanted to show Mark you grade. You arrived at his classroom, bouncing into the room.

“Well someone looks happy,” Jaemin commented.

“Did something mean happen?” Jisung asked. You stuck your tongue out at the younger boy making everyone laugh.

You made you way to Mark at the head of the table, him watching you with a smile. When you reached him, you slapped the paper with a big 90% scribbled at the top down in front of him.

“All thanks to you,” you said as he continued to stare at the paper.

“I told you so,” Mark said standing up. He caught you by surprise when he gave you a hug. “I’m proud of you.”

“Ugh, just date already,” Haechan commented from his chair. You and Mark pulled apart making a face at the boy, but avoiding each other’s eyes.

It’s not that you were entirely opposed to dating Mark. You just didn’t know if he felt the same way. And he didn’t. Right?

———

You and Mark continued your study sessions even after you proved you didn’t need to. You both agreed that it was to benefit both of you and not just an excuse to hang out.

One day, while walking out of calculus with Renjun, the boy made a comment that rocked your world.

“He likes you, ya know,” Renjun said.

“W-what,” you sputtered turning to him.

“Mark, he likes you,” He clarified. “I know like bro code, I’m not supposed to tell you or whatever, but I see the way you two look at each other. We all do. You should ask him out. He’d say yes.”

You stopped dead in your tracks thinking for a second. On one hand, this plan that you were formulating could embarrass you. On the other, you could get a date with your dungeon master / calculus tutor / crush.

“Y/n?” Renjun said turning to you. You quickly turned on your heel and made a mad dash for Mark’s locker. “Y/n!”

———

As you speed walked to Mark, you saw him in the distance talking to Jeno and Jaemin. Mark spotted you coming to him and waved at you.

“Hey, Y/n what’s-“

“Do you want to go an a date with me?” You said quickly.

“W-what?” Mark said.

“Jeno, I think that’s our cue,” Jaemin said dragging Jeno away.

“Do you want to go in a date with me?” You asked again, slower this time. Mark looked at you wide eyed, like a dear in headlights.

“A-a date?” He asked. You nodded, not trusting your voice not to shake. “Wow.”

“Wow?” You asked.

“Sorry! Sorry, I just never thought you’d ask and I’d have to do it,” Mark said. “But yes, I’d love to go on a date.”

“Oh thank god,” you said leaning against the lockers. Mark laughed at your dramatic reaction. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and turned you around to walk to lunch. As you turned, you and Mark stopped and saw the six other members of your party standing there amused.

“God, finally,” Haechan said.

“Took you long enough,” Chenle said.

As the eight of you walked to lunch, the boys continued to tease you and Mark. But when you looked up at him with his arm still around your shoulder, the teasing didn’t matter when Mark smiled at you.

———

[felagund-fiollaigean]

Peace like a river (always going, never getting)

 A Jedi: Fallen Order fanfic.

5k words of child soldier angst, fluff, hugs, an 8-year-old Jyn Erso discovering her penchant for inflicting blunt force trauma, a jam session around a campfire with Space Booze, and Merrin and Cal finding a moment of respite to feel young and carefree, taking comfort in each other after a traumatizing lifetime of raw survival.

Read it here or under the cut!

Saw and his rebel band could be uptight and overzealous sometimes, but they sure knew how to throw a party.

They were in the middle of one of the most isolated forests of Corvus, where they had earlier cleaned out an Imperial munitions plant. There had already been so much devastation wrought to the moon’s forests, but it was a big win nevertheless, and Saw had insisted in a rare magnanimous display that the crew of the Mantis join him and his partisans for some revelries. A massive bonfire had been lit with the flammable remnants of the factory they had scrapped. Saw’s motley crew was in high spirits tonight, exchanging drinks and jokes and puffs from a t’bac bowl.

Cere had brought her hallikset down with her, and was joined by a Weequay on a Sriluurian fiddle. The two had gathered a small audience of rebels enthusiastically shouting requests for this song or another, singing along raucously if obliged. Greez had gotten roped into a game of dice with a trio of drop troopers, and Cal was keeping a careful eye on the game to make sure the pile of credits in the center wasn’t getting too big. BD-1 had strayed from his perch on Cal’s shoulder to explore, making his rounds around the fire to meet everyone and scan everything in sight. He catches a glimpse of Merrin across the fire, nodding along to what one of the rebels was telling her about and tapping her foot along with the music.

Cal's managed to get himself pleasantly tipsy. The alcohol he's consumed so far has him feeling warm and loose and lighter than he's felt in a long time. There's no shortage of friendly conversation to be found either, and his status as the resident Jedi is making him fairly popular among Saw’s band. Cal doesn’t mind the attention, personally. So far no one has asked invasive questions like “So what was the clones' betrayal like for you, Cal?” or “You were only a padawan during the purge, right Cal?” or “How does it feel to be the last survivor of your order, Cal?”

The mood is celebratory and relaxed, and Cal is happy to forget about all the atrocities in the galaxy for a while with the rest of them.

He's distracted momentarily when he discovers that BD-1 had made a new friend. A human girl around eight years old, cheeks still round from baby fat and an oversized flak helmet on her head, fawning over the small droid. Cal studies her closer. He didn’t see her during the fighting (and thank the Force for that, at least this child didn’t have to grow up a soldier like he and his friends did), but she's the only child he's seen so far among Saw’s party. Struck by curiosity, he makes his way around the circle of flames and sits down on the damp grass next to her.

“Hey.”

She doesn't look up from where she's fiddling with the antenna on top of BD-1’s head. “Hi.”

“What’s your name?”

This time, she does look at him.

“You’re one of the ones from the Mantis, right?”

Her evasion of the question he asked doesn’t escape him, but he doesn’t press the issue. He wasn’t exactly an open book in his youth either.

“Yup. I’m Cal, and this here is BD-1.”

She frowns at him. “I know. I can speak binary,” she says, as if offended by the insinuation that she couldn’t.

Cal doesn’t let it faze him. “That’s good, not many people can.”

“I’m Jyn.”

Cal smiles to himself. He holds out his hand to her. “It’s nice to meet you, Jyn.”

She accepts the handshake, squeezing his hand in a fierce grip with her little fingers.

“Ouch, you got a strong grip there,” he says, exaggeratedly shaking the pain out of his right hand.

Jyn nods. “Saw says that a firm handshake establishes dominance quickly.”

“Well, it's working,” he says with a smile. “Is Saw your dad?”

Jyn frowns bitterly, and Cal instantly regrets asking. “Not really, she says, shaking her head. “He’s just raising me.”

Now there was a loaded response. Cal wonders what happened to her parents. Were they dead? Or was there another reason why she was in the middle of the woods with a band of militants and Saw Gerrera. Was it possible that she-

Cal shivers, and reaches out into the Force, only to withdraw with dismay a moment later. The Force flowed around her like it did every other being, but she lacked that spark of connection, that synchronization to the energy of life that other Force-sensitives had. He tries not to let his disappointment show on his face and steers the conversation away from either of their pasts, waving his hand to indicate the group gathered in the forest clearing. “Are all of these people your friends?”

She shrugs. “Sort of. I know most of them, but they don’t hang around much because they’re usually off on missions and stuff for Saw.”

“Does it ever get lonely?”

“No, I don’t mind being by myself. It does get boring though. Hey, can I have some of that?”

“What, this?” He holds up his cup, still half-full of Sunberry wine.

“Yeah.”

He narrows his eyes at her. “Um, I’m not sure that’s a great idea, it wouldn’t be very responsible of me. Besides, you’ll have plenty of time to drink when you’re older.” Internally, he cringes at his own words. Since when did he begin to sound like his master?

“That’s what all the others say. I thought you would be cool,” she says with a huff of disappointment.

Cal is momentarily tempted to give in, if only to salvage his status of “cool” in the eyes of this girl. But he really doesn’t want to get in trouble with their newfound allies by getting their surrogate daughter drunk on their very first meeting.

“Hey, I’m definitely cool. How old are you anyway?”

“I’m 8, and I think if I’m old enough to start training for field missions, I’m old enough to have something to drink that’s interesting. But so far, I'm the only one who thinks that.”

Training for field missions. Training for- Saw was training her for the field already?

Eight. She’s eight years old. He tries to picture this girl - with her tiny button nose and flyaway hairs escaping from braided pigtails - wearing her flak helmet and clutching a blaster, taking shelter in a foxhole as Imperial fire rains down. They at least had let him wait until he was 12 before he shipped out with Master Tapal and the clones in the 13th, this girl was practically still a baby.

Instinctively, he looks to Merrin, the only other person he knows who would understand. But Merrin isn’t where he saw her last. His eyes scan the clearing, and catch sight of her at the edge of the forest, at the start of the path that leads to the cliff edge nearby that overlooks the valley.

He wonders why she’s leaving, and if she wanted him to follow.

“Hey, did you hear what I said?”

Jyn is looking at him expectantly. Kriff.

“Uh, sorry, Jyn. Zoned out for a minute there. What was that?”

“I asked you if you know how to shoot a blaster, or if you only use your lightsaber and stuff.”

“Oh. Uh, I prefer the lightsaber I guess."

"Can I hold it?”

Cal blinks. Hold his lightsaber? He glances around the fire. He doesn’t have a problem with it, personally, but for the second time that evening, he is taken aback by his newfound position as an adult responsible for the wellbeing of a child. He unclips it from his belt.

“Yes. But,” he says, and doesn’t continue speaking until she’s torn her excited gaze away from his saber hilt to meet his eyes. “Let’s not ignite it here, okay? So be careful with the button. Got it?”

She nods, and he passes it to her.

She takes it reverently, holding it carefully in both hands and turning it over, examining it from all angles. Her little fingers barely wrap all the way around the circumference of the hilt. Cal is pleased to see she gingerly arranges her fingers so as not to accidentally trigger the ignition. BD-1 stands on her thigh, examining it with her even though he’s seen it hundreds of times already.

“It’s heavier than I thought,” she remarks. “Is it fun?”

“Is what fun?”

She shrugs. “You know. Using it, and fighting with it.”

Cal thinks for a moment. He doesn’t think of fighting as something fun. Usually, when he has to use it’s saber, it’s because somebody is trying to kill him and he will have to kill them in return. But his mind is drawn back to building his first saber as a youngling, and the thrill of feeling each component of the hilt assembling into something uniquely his. Of practicing kata or sparring in the temple, saber moving with power and fluidity as an extension of his own self. Of igniting his second saber for the first time on Illum, feeling the heat of the blade on his face and the crystal within calling out to him as if reuniting with an old friend.

And he finds himself saying, “Yeah. It’s pretty fun.”

She seems to consider something for a moment, and hands it back. “I know that I’m not a Jedi or anything, but do you think I would be good at fighting with one if I was?”

He busies himself with affixing his lightsaber back to his belt and taking a swallow from his rapidly-cooling wine as he considers how best to answer her bid for validation.

“How about the next time we come to work for Saw, you and I find out together?”

She looks at him accusingly. “But I don’t have a lightsaber, how would I do that?”

He shoots a look at BD-1, who seems to nod encouragingly.

“Before any Jedi builds their own lightsaber, we train with sticks and staves. We practice with ordinary weapons before we ever take up a lightsaber. I could teach you, if you wanted. You don’t need to be a Jedi to hit somebody with a stick."

She laughs at this, evidently not expecting so elegant a weapon to be compared to a common stick. “What if I wandered around with a stick tied to one side of my belt, and bonked people on the head like it was a tube of flimsi towels?” she says, shaking her fist as she raps Cal’s own skull with an imaginary cardboard tube.

Cal smiles. “Stormtrooper helmets aren’t very good quality, but they’re a bit tougher than your average flimsi-towel tube. We’ll have to find you something sturdier to practice with.”

Jyn stares at him, looking a bit shocked. “Were you serious about teaching me?”

BD-1 trills with affirmation, hopping from one little foot to the other in excitement.

“Of course. Not tonight, but we’ll see each other again. Someday, I’ll show you how to fight with one of these.

Her eyes are shining with excitement, and she holds out a tiny pinky. “Promise?”

He locks his little finger with hers, and says “I promise. You should be able to defend yourself as much as possible, when you’re out there.”

What he means is, I’m not going to let you die like the others, not if I can help it.

But he doesn’t say that, because Jyn is still young and dreams of glory, and the cruelty of the galaxy will find her soon enough without any of his help. She’s like him and Merrin now. A survivor.

Speaking of Merrin…

She’s still not back, and Cal eyes the entrance to the first path with apprehension. She’s more than capable of taking care of herself, he knows that. And if she had run into trouble, she would be able to make enough of a fuss to be noticeable from here.

Still.

He takes a final swig from his cup and leaves it behind him on the grass as he stands, and tries not to groan at the stiffness in his knees.

“I’m gonna go for a walk, make sure Merrin’s okay,” He says. “You two…” he points from Jyn to BD-1 in turn “Stay out of trouble, alright?”

“Okay,” Jyn says casually, resuming her fiddling with BD-1’s antennae as BD-1 chirps contentedly. “Don’t get lost.”

Cal isn’t worried about getting lost. He’d traveled the footpath from the clearing to the cliff ledge multiple times in the daylight. But this time, as the shadows of the trees close around him, cutting him off from the warmth of the fire and his gathered friends, his mind began to wander back to his conversation with Jyn.

Was Saw really going to send this child out to fight? At least with him, they hadn’t had a choice, they hadn’t just...

No, they had. The Jedi order made a choice to send him out onto the front lines as a soldier at the age of 12. They did the same to Caleb and Zett and Skywalker’s padawan, Ahsoka, who at the age of 14 had seemed so mature to Cal when he first met her. They had all grown up under blasterfire and canonfire and the shrill scream of bombers, and now Jyn was going to have to do the same.

He makes the decision then to ask the rest of the crew to take on as many jobs for Saw as they can. He knows he isn’t invincible. He can’t save the entire galaxy by himself, but if he can be here for Jyn, maybe….

Maybe he could be for her what Prauf was for him. A guide, an anchor, someone who would have her back when the going gets tough, as it inevitably does.

It takes 7 standard minutes and two stumbles over protruding roots before the trees thin out and Cal finds himself at the clearing on top of the cliff. It’s a stunning view. Corvus’ twin moons cast a wan glow over the valley, and the dark sea of trees below them stretches out all the way to the horizon, leaving the star-studded sky open and clear and resplendent. He isn’t alone, and nearly starts out of his poncho before he remembers why he came out this way and recognizes Merrin sitting on the edge, kicking her dangling feet back and forth. She seems to notice him at the same time he notices her.

“Did nobody ever warn you about sneaking up on a Nightsister?”

Cal smiles in the way he can’t help but smile whenever she’s near. “They probably did, and I just wasn’t paying attention.”

“Foolish of you,” she says, patting the spot on the grass next to her. “What are you doing out here?”

Cal accepts the invitation, and eases himself down beside her, dangling his legs over the edge as she did. “I wanted to make sure you were okay, and to keep you company if you didn’t want to be alone.”

She smiles a little, making the dimples in her cheeks stand out. “Thoughtful of you. Were you enjoying yourself?”

“I was. Saw knows how to throw a pretty good shindig.”

“I will have to take your word for it. I haven’t been to many shindigs, as you call them.”

“Yeah, I guess Dathomir wasn’t really known for it’s party scene.”

“As a matter of fact,” she says dryly, “It wasn’t.

“Did you meet Jyn?”

“Was she the little one you were talking to?”

Cal sighs deeply. “Yeah, she was.”

Merrin draws the silence out, leaving room in the air between them for Cal to say what he was thinking. He wasn’t even sure how to express it, but felt compelled to try. Besides, if anyone knew how he was feeling, Merrin would.

“She’s only eight. Saw’s training her for the field.”

Merrin makes a neutral humming noise in the back of her throat. “It will be good for her to learn early. Better start now, so she will be stronger when she’s grown.”

“Maybe, but I don’t know. She’s really young, and I…. I never really thought about the kind of childhood we had, and how it really wasn’t a childhood at all, until now. And it’s hard to wrap my head around.”

“It is difficult to see it happen to someone else with your own eyes, now that you’re grown.” Merrin’s voice is unusually gentle, but she wastes no time getting to the heart of the issue as usual.

“Yeah, exactly. I wish she could grow up in a more peaceful galaxy, and not have to fight.” He runs a frustrated hand through his hair, suddenly overwhelmed by a bitter surge of emotion. “And she’s not just out there for her own life. These rebels are fighting because so many can’t fight for themselves. She’s going to be responsible for a galaxy full of people older than her, adults who should be protecting her, not the other way around!  And it’s not… it’s not fair.”

The sentiment sounds childish to his own ears - he’s long stopped believing that the universe was fair -  but his chest aches with the truth of it. What he wouldn’t give to live in a world where he and Merrin could have had their childhoods free of fighting and and death and raw survival, where they could simply be two teenagers: Drinking and talking and watching the stars. Where Jyn could simply be a child. With her parents. Going to school, making friends her own age, catching bugs and playing with dolls and collecting model starfighters.

As if she could sense his thoughts, Merrin says “There’s no use dwelling on what could have been, Cal. This is the world we’ve been given. We’re here, so we’ll keep her as safe as we can for as long as we can, and when we can’t anymore, well. You and I survived, didn’t we?”

He glances at her to find she’s already holding his gaze.

“Yeah, I guess we did.”

“Then why can’t Jyn?”

Trust only in the Force.

He takes a deep breath in and exhales, and with it releases his fear and anxiety and regret into the Force, like snow melting off a mountainside.

Sometimes, he thinks Merrin would have made a better Jedi than he ever did.

“You’re right, as always,” he says, and a comfortable silence ensues between them for the next few moments as they watch the stars together.

“Hey,” Cal says, tilting his head towards the southwest. “That constellation kind of looks like Greez.”

She follows his gaze, searching the horizon with bright eyes. “Where?”

He extends his arm and points up at the vaguely Latero-shaped cluster of stars. “There. See?”

“Huh. I think it sort of looks like a dick.”

“Do you mean it actually looks like a penis, or that Greez is just a dick?”

Merrin considers for a moment. “Yes to both.”

Cal snorts.

They carry on that way, and make a game of trying to find the shapes of their friends in the stars. Until something occurs to Cal.

“Hey, why did you leave anyway?” He asks.

“Well, it was… you know.” Merrin sighs, and Cal copies her earlier silence, the open air of the night waiting for her words.

“On Dathomir, and even with you and the crew of the Mantis, I always knew that I belonged, and it’s easy to know what to do. I’ve… I’ve never been around so many people before who didn’t know me.”

Cal thinks he knows what she means, but he lets her go on.

“Cere has her music, and Greez loses our money at games, most beings find you handsome and pleasant and easy to talk to, and of course everyone loves your little droid. But I don’t know what the rules are, yet. To being with so many people who aren’t like me.”

Cal feels his face flush hot at her words. Merrin thought he was handsome? But he didn’t let himself dwell on the compliment.  

“You know you’re one of us though, right?”

Merrin had an impressive sabacc face by anyone’s standards, but Cal had known her long enough by now to learn her tells. Right now, for instance, the slightest tension in her brown told him that she wasn’t entirely sure.

“Hey, I mean it. Socializing takes practice, it definitely did for me when I first ended up on Bracca. The first year was awkward and confusing, but we really care about you. I know it won’t be the same as your sisters on Dathomir, but you have a place here, for as long as you want it.”

Merrin nods, slow and contemplative. “I do, and I care about you too, but it doesn’t feel the same as I thought it would all the time. So many things are unfamiliar, it gets overwhelming. Cere’s music was nice but I don’t know any of the songs that the others do. The music on Dathomir wasn’t quite so… exuberant, but at least I knew all the words.”

Cal leans back on his arms to better look her in the eye.

“Well, that problem shouldn’t be a hard one to fix.”

Merrin mirrors his movements to regard him in return. “What do you mean?

“I’ll send you some music before the next shindig, whenever it is.”

Merrin raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “You want me to listen to that caterwauling you call music?”

“First of all,” he says, holding up a reproachful finger. “It’s not caterwauling. And I’ll make you a playlist, even. Cal Kestis’ Guide to Exploring the Galaxy Through Music. And next time Saw has a party you’re going to sing and get drunk and be ridiculous with the rest of us. We can pretend we’re regular, irresponsible teenagers having fun for once.”

She turns away again to study the terrain below them. “I would do no such thing. I am the epitome of grace and beauty, and will not bring disgrace upon the Nightsisters of Dathomir by fraternizing with the likes of you in such a way.” Her tone is imperious and unyielding, but he notices the faintest upturn in the corners of her mouth and knows she's only teasing.

“That’s a lie! You’re just as weird as the rest of us, admit it.”

“I should sue you on grounds of defamation of character.”

“How? You don’t know any lawyers and we’re both enemies of the state.”

“Semantics.” She lies down onto her back, face tilted to the night sky. The light of Corvus’ moon casts a glow on her face that makes her grey complexion look like a moon itself, ethereal and resplendent. “Very well. I will let you educate me about ‘music,’” she says, making quotes in the air with her fingers, “on one condition.”

“And what would that be?”

“Next time we’re at one of these, what did you call them? Shindigs? You are going to dance with me.”

Cal hesitates. “Well… I’m really not a very good dancer, Merrin.”

“I know that. But I have hopes of improving you. You will find I am a marvelous teacher. My sisters and I would dance when we had… nights like this.”

She doesn’t elaborate, but Cal is no stranger to longing for a past that was cruelly ripped away. As shy as he felt about dancing in public, he wasn’t going to let her miss a chance to give her back something she loved about her home.

“Okay then. You can teach me to dance.”

Merrin grins, looking delighted.

Yeah. He would waltz arm-in-arm with the Ninth Sister if only to see Merrin smile like that again. He copies her in lying down on his back, breathing deeply of the forest air.

Moments where it’s just the two of them together, without the rest of the crew or even BD-1 around are few and far between and tragically short at that, so Cal decides to relish every minute of it as it is. The stillness, the beauty of the night sky on Corvus, lying next to her so close their shoulders are a hair’s breadth from touching, and nowhere they need to be for the next standard rotation.

Yeah, Cal could get used to this. He sneaks another glance at Merrin.

Judging by the way her eyes are closed and her breathing has deepened, Merrin is even more relaxed than he is.

He smiles, glad that she’s finally resting properly. Sleep is hard to come by in their line of work, and Merrin works harder than the rest of them, since her magick is so vital to sneaking the Mantis past Imperial blockades.

The thought of work and blockades and their myriad responsibilities must be what jinxes him, because just at that moment, his comm chirps and Merrin jerks awake.

“Sorry, Merrin,” he says sheepishly. He wishes whoever was trying to get in touch with them could have at least given her a few more minutes to sleep.

“It’s fine,” she replies. “See who it is, it might be important.”

Regretfully, he answers the comm. “Cal here.”

“You kids better have been kidnapped or something,” blares Greez’s voice from Cal’s wrist. “Because if I find out you two have been canoodling in those woods, I swear I’ll-”

“Kriff, Greez! No one’s canoodling!” He silently damns his own face for blushing, and hopes Merrin doesn’t notice. “We were just on a walk.”

“Oh, that’s what they’re calling it these days? And where did you hear that language?”

“The last time? From you,” Cal deadpans.

"Yeah okay, smartass. Merrin’s with you?”

“She is,” Merrin says.

“Swell. Look, fire’s getting low, Saw’s getting impatient, Cere broke a string, and that little droid of yours is about to bust a servo with how much he’s worrying about you. So you might want to get back here. We’ll pack up the Mantis, make the jump to Taanab and sleep on the way. Got it?”

Cal sighs, and shares a knowing look with Merrin. So much for peace and quiet.

But such was the life of survivors like them.

“We hear you, Greez. We’ll be back shortly.”

“And no detours! Don’t need you two giving each other any diseases or-”

“Yup, we got it, thanks,” he says quickly, before Greez can add any more input on what they should or shouldn’t do on their way back. “Cal out.”

He shuts off his comlink, closes his eyes, and sighs for what feels like the millionth time that evening. When he opens his eyes, Merrin is pointing towards the southwest.

“Like I said. Dick.”

He laughs, embarrassment forgotten in a moment.

“You were right about that,” he says, then stands up and offers her a hand for assistance.

The scathing look she gives him would have cowed a lesser man, but Cal stands his ground, silently daring her to accept his chivalry. She does give in, as he knew she would, using him as leverage to pull herself to her feet.

But what he didn’t know that she would do was draw herself closer still and wrap her arms around his shoulders.

It takes him by surprise, but he gathers himself quickly. The gaping hole in his chest that made their last (and so far, only) hug a rather painful ordeal is now nothing but a blot of pinkish scar tissue, so he returns her embrace wholeheartedly, settling his arms against her back and waist. Merrin takes a deep, tremulous breath, and he rubs her back tenderly to soothe her.

She doesn’t show any interest in letting go yet, so he lets himself linger as long as she’s willing to, dreading the moment of pulling away. He can’t remember the last time he had ever felt like this. Physical affection on Bracca and the Mantis was limited to back slaps and shoulder pats and handshakes sealed with the spit of a promise. He remembers falling asleep cuddled next to his fellow crechemates as a very small youngling at the temple, but they had abandoned such childish actions when they left the creche. Now that he considers it, he can’t remember the last time he had been held.

And suddenly he feels untethered and desperate and weak at the knees and he squeezes her as close to him as he can without hurting her. He lets out a harsh breath that turns into a whimper, and muffles the sound in the crook of her neck. Her arms around his shoulders tighten in response. He imagines himself physically soaking in the hug, letting her warmth and her weight in his arms seep through his skin and shore up his defenses that have been stretched too thin for far too long.  

A hundred years could have gone by, and Cal would have been content for both of them to stay right where they were for the entirety of it. But Merrin loosens her grip on him so he reluctantly does the same. It’s only then he realizes that he had managed to lift her completely off her feet, and she drops the few inches back to the ground awkwardly, landing on his toes.

“Ow, kriff, I’m sorry,” He fumbles. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t apologize,” she chuckles, tugging the hem of her tunic back into place. “It was nice. You’re a good friend, Cal. You give good hugs.”

Affection wells in his chest and swells his heart so full he’s afraid it will burst. His feelings for her lately have been… complex. And confusing. And he doesn’t really know what to do with them, except to stay by her side for as long as he can, wherever they go.

“I’m- I’m so glad I met you,” is all he knows to say. And as an addendum, “You give good hugs too.”

The words sounded lame as soon as he said them, but Merrin beamed as if he had recited the sonnets of Adranax.

Until her face nearly splits down the middle in a massive yawn she belatedly tries to cover with the back of her hand. He puts an arm around her shoulders then steers them both towards the path that will take them back to the others.

“Come on,” he says. “Long day tomorrow.”

“It always is, isn’t it.”

“That’s true.” He takes one last look behind them at the moon-soaked landscape, committing it to memory as best as he can.

This is a night he never wants to forget.

[kane-m-killer]

Here’s a small horror story draft

________________________________________

Has anyone seen Pete? He’s 25,6’1,black curly greasy hair,pimple face? Used to frequent this subreddit often? I wanted to ask you all if you have seen them cause I’m an old friend of his and I wanted to say if any of you saw him or have seen him.

Run away, Run far away.

No I’m not joking either,Or trying to paint him in a bad light. This guy is serious bad news, and if you won’t take my word for it. First off, good on you for not trusting a random Redditor. Allow me then to start from the beginning as to why the next time I see this man it will be in a morgue when we are both dead.

I met him at a A&A meeting. I was in bad shape when I met him, addicted to drinking at 21 and down on my luck. He was a new member we had to say hi to and he sat next to me once he introduced himself.

I can’t remember the details of the conversation but I know we talked about something boring like the weather maybe.

He was there for a few more sessions until he stopped coming.

I didn’t think much of it until one autumn night when I left the building after the meeting,7 weeks sober then mind you, he was there leaning against the building. It was like he was trying to seem cool but in actuality just looked dumb and a try hard.

But nevertheless I still went up and talked to him, I can’t tell you why but I guess it doesn’t matter now. We talked more and his slow monotonous voice gave an air of disturbed charm to me. I thought he was like one of those guys that are bland on the outside but fascinating on the inside. And strangely because of that we became friends.

Friends for 3 years for that matter. And through all that time he was a good friend, he offered his advice and gave me a shoulder to cry on when needed. It’s just that something about his behavior sometimes really should’ve told me he was trouble.

For example when me and him were at a bar being the sober friends at a party and he was flirting with a girl next to us, me being too tired to be a wingman I stayed quiet but listened to his conversation.

“So what are you doing tonight honey?” He started off with

“Nothing to do with you that’s for sure” she retorted and I held back a laugh.

“…You should shut the fuck up then before I take those hot lips of yours and cut them off.” He said with a voice that I haven’t heard him use ever. It was fucking creepy

“Excuse me?!” The lady said immediately getting up to leave

“I’ll be able to kiss your sexy lips all the time if I cut them off, you sure aren’t using them much if you're using them to talk shit.” He continued grabbing her arm. I was utterly shocked and disgusted with him and got up and punched him clean in the face. He reeled back and gave me the dirtiest look and yelled at me, we argued, screaming at each other for a good minute before we were kicked out the bar for disturbing the peace, he left in his car and I was there with no ride.

I was about to call an Uber when someone tapped my shoulder. It was the girl who Pete harassed, she wanted to thank you for defending her and asked if I needed a ride. We talked on the way to my house and I’ll cut off at this bit to just say Her name is Desiree and she’s now been my best friend for three years.

The reason I’m telling you this is because me and Desiree became close enough to move in together, and throughout that whole move from my mothers house (yes I know, cringe) I haven’t told Pete about her and me, in fact I don’t think I had a full conversation with him since the bar fight. And honestly I was fine with that.

I just wish it stayed that way.

It’s been a couple weeks since I fully moved in with Desiree and I was home alone while she worked the night shift. I was messing around on my phone when I felt eyes on me. Not the kind of eyes you feel from a worried mother or annoying friend but just eyes, cold unmoving eyes.

I got up from the couch and looked at the windows. Desiree had one of those studio apartments with the balcony window the size of the wall. I tried to stare into the blackness that was night outside but of course I saw nothing of anything or anyone. But the eyes still wouldn’t leave me. I looked everywhere in the house but no dice.

The eyes felt like it was amused at me failing to try and find its source. I decided it was just my mind messing with me and I just went to bed.

I fell asleep pretty easily after I calmed down and the eyes almost went away,until I woke up.

Now there’s this thing about humans that can detect if it’s life is in danger. I think my body activated because of that. Cause when I woke up I felt a weight at the side of the bed.

Someone was in the bed with me.

I didn’t dare move, I didn’t dare speak. Anything that could have indicated I was alive save for my breathing ceased. I tried to access the situation but a hard metal object touched my back, it felt like every nerve in my body prepared me for this moment but when the moment came I just froze. It’s such a pathetic thing to do but I couldn’t do anything other than freeze.

I felt the person scooch up to me pressing the knife closer at my back, to the point where I was drawing blood and the person’s chest was touching my back. I could feel their hot breath on my neck that night.

We stayed that way for what felt like hours. I think they were waiting for me to move or show that I was awake or something cause I stayed froze in that position, at that time I couldn’t even feel my body with how hard I was trying to keep it together.

The worst part about it was that they never spoke a word, but their eyes were unmistakable. They were the same eyes watching me from afar earlier now staring at the back of my neck waiting for me to mess up.

The front door soon opened with what I assume was Desiree coming home from work, the person in my bed slowly moved away and came off the bed. Their weight being so heavy I almost flew up when they got up.

While they opened the door out of my room I slowly reached for my phone on the desk. I heard him walking downstairs and typed in a number quickly.

Pretty soon I heard it. Desiree’s phone rings. She picks it up and her sleepy but joyful voice almost makes me cry of relief.

“Hey dude, what’s up? Did you go to sleep early?” She said, I can hear her smile as she puts down her things and opens the fridge. I can’t hear the person who was in her house.

“I’m fine, just wanted to say hi, and yeah…could you do me a favor and go outside real quick?” I said trying my best to not sound like I’m shaking as my body finally responds to moving as I snuck out of bed.

“Um,what? Listen man I’m too tired for any games rn.” She said sounding a little annoyed. I don’t blame her.

“Just, go outside like right now.” I hear a creak of wood on her end of the line “please.”

I raised a glass cup high above my head, the plan came to me during the call as I was straining to listen for the intruder. I smashed the glass against the wall and I heard it double on the phone.

“Now!” I screamed into the phone before hanging up and jumping out the window of my room, her apartment was thankfully on the second floor to the way down wasn’t deadly. But concrete on bare skin hurted like a bitch.

I heard a scream from the window and my heart dropped, but the next thing I saw made my whole body stop again. The intruder was looking at me recon the window I dropped from.

And it was Pete.

Me and Pete stared at each other for what felt like eternity, his dark eyes and pimple faced morphed by the dark room into something hideous to look at. I heard the building door open and out came Desiree with blood coming from her arm.

We both ran away with him close behind. It hurt to move after being still for so long but I had to keep running. We managed to lose him in traffic and alleys and after thirty minutes found a police station. We came in scared and with bloody bare feet, we told them everything and we stayed there for the rest of the night.

Some police went back to the apartment and by a stroke of luck found him waiting for us in Desiree’s room doing stuff that I won’t repeat here. He was arrested for attempted murder and breaking and entering. I later found out he was outside watching me through the window via a ladder. So that would explain the eyes.

But something happened in court and he was let go due to good lawyers from his family. He’s out free and I haven’t seen him since

So that’s why I ask, have you seen Pete? I don’t know if he’s moved to another country or is still around here. He could be anywhere and I wouldn’t have the foggiest idea where to look.

Remember what he looks like. 25,6’1,black hair and pimple face. Don’t trust anything he says to you and just run.

And watch the people you meet in a AA meeting

[sleepdepravity]

Title:  dnd au (what’s the dnd campaign like? is it just one piece or is it something else? the answer is yes.) Word Count: 7,719

“Everybody got their dice?”

“Don’t know why we need so many.”

“Um, sorry...it’s just the way the game works.”

“You’re complaining about what, two dollars at most?”

“I wouldn’t be complaining at all if someone would just let me use theirs.”

“Hey, if I had to buy a set, so do you.”

“Oh, oh! Here’s mine!

“...That’s a six-sided die.”

“Yup!”

“...You brought one die, and it’s six-sided.”

“That’s what a die is!”

“I mean, yeah, but DnD barely even use six-sided dice! You can’t even make the basic skill check rolls!”

“Whatever. It’s fine. I’ll let him borrow mine.”

“Aw, thanks!”

“Discrimination! I call discrimination!”

“Just ‘cause you’re the only girl doesn’t mean you get to – “

“Settle down, settle down. Does everybody have their character sheets?”

There were four of them, kneeling around the low coffee table that was the only solid horizontal surface in the apartment. Nobody sat on the ratty couch, as it seemed unfair to elevate even the Dungeon Master over the players. At least there was a carpet, although it was a bristling one, and so thin they could feel the nails underneath.

Cheap carpeting aside, it wasn’t a bad place. For an undergrad barely into his second year, anyways. And the slight dinginess of the apartment lent well to the atmosphere of pretending to be in a dungeon, fighting some dragons. So the DM thought. Or, well, he hoped so. Though he wasn’t sure if the session was going to actually get to a dungeon tonight, given that he knew very well that at least one of the players was about as chaotic as his character and would likely manage to throw off the DM’s carefully plotted campaign within two moves. And oh god, he was so absolutely screwed if that happened, because he had pages and pages of the perfect outline for this DnD game, but he sure as hell didn’t have a back-up plan, because of course he didn’t, why would he, when it took him so long to even figure out this not-back-up one? There was no way he could improvise, why did he even suggest doing this, was he an idiot? Like, a super stupid idiot? None of them had even ever played before, they might not even like it, and then they’d feel awkward around him because here he is, so excited about this thing they don’t like doing but they agreed to do it so they keep doing it with him and then eventually their resentment would be too much for them to pretend to like him and he would be alone again and.

Okay, maybe dial it back a bit.

The three players took out their three sheets. The DM gave them a glance, even though he had examined them extensively for the past week. “Anyways, let’s start by introducing your characters?”

If anybody noticed the upward lilt of his voice, they didn’t comment on it.

Player One almost pulled himself to his feet with the force of his raised hand, and given that he had sat with his legs crossed, that would have been an impressive feat. “Me, me! I’m going first!”

Player Two, sitting beside him, leaned away and covered his ear. “We’re not in class, idiot.”

“My character’s like a hero guy, but he does his own thing, so that makes him, uhhhhhh, chaotic good! He’s a bugbear fighter – “

“Monk.”

“ – monk, except he just does the punching stuff, not any of the monk stuff. He likes adventure!” Player One flung his arms out wide at this last, grandiose statement, paused, and then leaned back on his palms, beaming widely. “That’s it.”

“You didn’t tell us his name,” Player Three said from the other end of the table.

“Luffy.”

“That’s your name.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re supposed to make up a name for your character! That’s right, right?” She turned towards the DM, and though she phrased it like a question it really sounded more like a threat.

“Hey, I’m not gonna tell you guys how to create characters. He can name his whatever he wants.”

Player One grinned triumphantly, then toppled over laughing when Player Three stretched her leg over and pushed him to the floor. But she did not voice any other complaints, just sat and muttered, “Who ever heard of a bugbear named Luffy.”

“So mine’s named Zoro – “

“That’s your name too.”

“Maybe it’s not, huh? Maybe I named him after, like, the character Zorro.”

“Which happens to also be your name.”

Player Two scratched at his clipped hair. “Not my fault my parents are freaky Zorro fans.”

“Okay, okay, fine. So what’s ‘Zoro’s’ deal, then?”

“He’s a human swordsman.”

“Alright, now you’re just being lazy.”

Player Two shrugged. To be honest, it was a surprise that he even came at all, and probably the only reason he was here was because he was dragged along. “Well, what’s your character then?” he scoffed (a little too hotly for someone who didn’t care, perhaps).

If he had been hoping to catch her off-guard, though, he was instead greeted with a very official-sounding ‘ahem.’ And then came approximately five pages of character details, down to named lineage and culture of village of origin.

“We can get into some of that in the game itself,” the DM cut in, right around where Player Three was explaining how her character cleverly outsmarted a band of ruffians out of their treasure. He regretted it even before she shot him an affronted glare, because, shit, was that sexist? Did that look sexist? Telling the only girl in the group to shut up? Maybe he was overstepping as a DM, after all, wasn’t talking a free action? (Though that only really applied in the actual game itself not the pre-game set-up or anything like that, but anyways…)

The DM took a breath. Flipped randomly through the guidebook to have an excuse to hide his face behind it. “Anyways...the three of you are sitting in a tavern...”

*** 

This was probably the worst hangover the DM had ever experienced, and he hadn’t even had a sip of alcohol. Player Two had brought plenty, however, and was drinking straight from the bottle.

“Bullshit his freaky goddamn phantom hands stabbed me! I rolled twenty for perceiving! Twenty’s like, the highest number!”

“You did that on your second perceive roll, which I told you not to do because you can’t just keep making perceive rolls every time you fail.”

“Says who?! I should be able to perceive whenever the hell I want!”

“Says game balance, Zoro, please, the fight wasn’t even supposed to be this long.”

“Luffy, it’s your turn,” Player Three called out. Player One, who had gotten up long ago to mess around in the kitchenette, poked his head out around the corner.

“Yeah? What happened?”

“Zoro got stabbed by the clown. You’re still in the cage.”

“He’s a pirate clown,” the DM reminded tetchily.

“I didn’t get stabbed!” Player Two slammed his fist on the table, causing the various dice to hop once and toppling a few make-shift figurines that were meant to represent the characters. Amazingly, the table stayed intact under the muscled assault.

Player One disappeared back into the kitchen. A few minutes ago, a worrying sort of smell started wafting from that direction, but given that the fire alarm hadn’t gone off yet, it was probably fine. Maybe. “Can I eat the cage?”

The DM began to flip through the guidebook as Player Three squinted and said, “There’s no way it has something in there for eating cages.”

Let’s see. Flip to the section about doing damage to inanimate objects...using teeth probably counts as unarmed combat… “Yeah, you can try eating the cage. You’ll have to roll against its AC.”

“Cages have armor? Well,” Player Three suddenly added, “I mean, I guess they’re pretty solid.”

“Sure, Luffy can eat a goddamn cage but my goddamn trained-ass swordsman can’t dodge a stupid clown.”

“Pirate clown,” the DM repeated. “With magic phantom hands.”

“Okay back!” Player One announced even though his pounding steps did all the announcing for him. With a bowl of something that smelled vaguely meaty in his hands, he ran straight towards the table, jumped over and across, landed back-first on the couch, and then rolled back down to the floor. The mysterious meat in the bowl remained unspilled.

Player Two, who had been kicked in the head sometime during that acrobatic feat, recoiled with a hand over his face. Player Three backed away from the table. The DM became a little more concerned about the state of his kitchenette. “What the hell is that,” Player Three said first before the other two could voice it.

“I’unno, supposed to be a meatloaf, but for some reason the bread thing didn’t work.”

“You mean the dough didn’t rise,” Player Two translated. Then: “Oh my god you tried to literally bake meatloaf.”

“Why am I spending a Friday night doing this,” Player Three muttered, though there was a hint of a smile in her cheeks.

“Okay so I’m rolling the twenty, right?” Player One said, already shaking the twenty-sided die and aiming for the table. Due to previous experience, everybody else ducked for cover as Player One added another ugly dent to the surface of everything the die happened to hit.

Still, even with the imminent threat of death by die, this was…

...Alright.

***

There was no time to do anything other than schoolwork, and yet school required so much money. Getting a lot of money meant having a really good job, but getting a good job was only possible by going to school. Such was the bullshit of the world, honestly.

This was the sort of philosophy that ran through his head during part-time shifts at one of the campus’ marts. (Grocers? Convenience stores? Whatever they’re called.) Maybe during the dead hours he could study the pricey engineering textbook that his professor had written. But somehow he’d rather stand and think about more of the world’s bullshit.

Someone pushed the door open, briefly mixing together brisk autumn with air-conditioner. “Welcome!” went his chirpy, automaton retail voice, but he ended up dropping the trademarked Retail Smile when he saw it was Zoro.

The two of them stared for maybe a second longer than was natural, and then Zoro waved. “Hey,” he supplemented, and then walked down to an aisle to examine the wares in great detail.

Were there protocols on how to make small talk with an acquaintance when one happened to be a cashier at the moment? He’d really like a manual right about now. “Do you need help finding anything?” was what he ended up saying when he opened his mouth. God, just kill him now.

“I’m fine, thanks,” came the typical reply. A lot more awkward than he’d expect from Ripped McMuscle Abs. A few seconds later, he was back with a giant bag of chips.

The total came out to be $3.12. Zoro had exact change.

“So how d’you know Luffy?” Zoro asked, sliding pennies across the counter.

“Uh, well. Y’know. I’m an Art-Engineering double major, so…”

Zoro nodded with a comfortably serious look on his face. “Art class?”

“Actually, engineering.” He laughed at Zoro’s expression. “He’s good at memorizing formulas. Kinda shit at everything else, but he’s still passing. You should see him calculate trajectories.”

“I’ve seen him try darts,” Zoro replied skeptically.

“Nah, that’s hard. 3-D space. Watch him play pool.”

“I’m afraid I’ll be brained by the eight ball.”

“Oh c’mon, he’s not throwing it! Trust me, it’s safe.”

Zoro just hummed, chips tucked under his arm.

“What about you? How you know Luffy, I mean,” he added.

Zoro’s face went dreadfully blank and he stared at some distant horror ahead. “Roommate.”

He patted him compassionately on his well-toned arm, taking care not to linger so it wouldn’t turn weird or anything.

“So...the game thing. We’re doing it again next Friday?”

“What? Oh! Uh, yeah. Same time.”

Zoro nodded vaguely, like he was actually interested, and waved again. “See ya there, then.”

It sounded genuine. His heart filled to near bursting capacity.

***

“So this is Sanji. Sanji, meet Usopp. I’d tell you to be cool, but we all know you aren’t.”

The DM stood at the entrance to his apartment complex, blocking the door even as he held it open to let his guests in. He wasn’t sure who Player Three’s last statement was directed to exactly. Probably to him.

Player number Four was so much like the typical cool dude, he could probably be sued by every 90’s sitcom ever for copyright infringement. The halo of smoke coming from his cigarette, the black leather jacket, the scraggle of hair on his chin; the only outlier was that weird eyebrow, though, actually, maybe that had its charm too. He looked as in place in a DnD game as all of the other players, that is, not at all. But at least he was someone the DM didn’t even know, and thus there was no pressure to make the game his Best Experience Ever. Or, well, maybe because he was an absolute stranger, there was all the more pressure to make the game his Best Experience Ever, just to make a good first impression.

“Smoking’s bad,” the DM babbled and then cringed because that was absolutely the one thing you never say to a smoker, really, what was he thinking, literally he could have said that the complex didn’t allow smoking indoors, there was a sign right there, now he just sounded like the squarest of squares (which he already was but shhhh).

Soon-to-be Player Four maintained unblinking eye contact, took his cigarette, and snuffed it out on his own tongue without flinching. “Sorry,” he said, tucking the unfinished cig into his pocket.

Player Three shoved him with her shoulder and he broke into a cackle. “You’re disgusting.” She strolled in once the DM got the ability to shuffle slightly to the side of the door and Player Four followed after, nodding at him in deferential acknowledgment of the courteous action of holding the door open. The DM felt him brush by, either the whisper of fabric against skin or just the air between them circulating, and he shivered.

The other players greeted Player Four with enviable casualness and exchanged names. Player Four raised an eyebrow at Player Two. “Seriously? Y’mean the,” and then he sliced an imaginary Z in the air.

Player Two stared blankly, allowing the quip to sink down to the carpet into an early grave, and then turned to the DM. “So what, his character’s gonna just show up?”

“Nah. Uh, sorry Sanji, this is like, session five and we��re kinda in the middle of a storyline, so...”

Player Four shrugged with an easy roll of his shoulders and the image felt incomplete without his cigarette. “Nah, I don’t have anything ready. I figure I’d just see what’s what and then hash out something that’ll be good for the team.”

“Oh, hey! You can be the healer!” Player One piped up, picking bits of fluff off of the couch.

“Please be our healer,” Player Three added.

In the middle of flopping onto the forbidden couch, Player Four glanced up sharply and said, “Why the fuck do you not have a fucking healer?”

And at that point, the DM could swear he fell in love.

***

In exactly seven minutes and thirty-six seconds, this guy proved himself to be the most horrible piece of garbage trash that had ever been in the company of the DM and fuck him and his backseat playing.

“Wait,” said Unlikely-To-Be Player Four, seeing the DM’s faint expression of horror, and he grinned, that asshole. “The butler really did do it?”

“He didn’t even do anything yet!” the DM snapped.

“I punch the butler,” Player One said.

“But your character doesn’t even have a reason – “

“I rolled a 14 for punching.” The DM threw his pages of notes dramatically behind him and slammed his face onto the table.

“Can I also roll to stab him?” asked Player Two. “Or do we have to do initiative now?”

“No, wait, we need to see if Luffy beat butler guy’s AC.”

“You know what, yes. Yes he does. Roll for damage.”

Player One chucked the dice at the table and only Player Four flinched at the rebound. “Christ, he said roll, not embed.”

“Woohoo! A six!” Player One cheered once he found one of the dice.

“Three,” Player Two called from his corner of the room.

“So that’s uh…”

“First attack is six, plus your modifier, which makes eight. Second attack is five. That’s thirteen,” Player Three rattled off with the weary experience befitting of a ragged wanderer.

“You punch Klahadore straight in the face and knock him over, breaking his glasses. Kaya screams from her window at the sight of her butler being attacked, and her various hired help swarm around Klahadore, blocking you from attacking him again. Because all of you are strangers, they point their ire at your new village friend that led you here to begin with to literally ask his rich friend for a goddamn ship, you assholes.

“’We know you hate him, but you didn’t have to hire a bunch of thugs to beat him up!’ That’s from a guy that looks like a gardener.”

“But he’s a bad guy!”

“’Yeah? Whadd’he do?!’”

“Uh.” Player One turned towards the couch. “What did he do?”

“Iunno. I was just joking.” Player Four turned his head away from Player One’s betrayed look. “C’mon, I didn’t tell you to fucking deck the dude.”

“Zoro? Nami? Anything you guys are doing?”

“I say I got nothing to do with any of you idiots.”

“Hey, what?!”

“You’re the one that started the fight, not me. I’m fine out here.”

“Roll deception.”

“Nat twenty.”

“They completely believe you.”

“Nami, c’mon!”

“I draw my swords.”

“Jesus christ Zoro, they’re innocent people.”

“Maybe they’re in on it.”

The three players turned to the couch. Player Four scratched his cheek. “Well…they probably aren’t?”

“Hey, I’ve got an idea. How about we actually play the actual game instead of playing ‘Let’s Try and Guess The Meta of This Campaign So We Can Ruin the DM’s Plans and Also His Life?’”

In our defense, that other game sounds fun.” Player Two’s smile dropped when the DM glared, which was an amazing feat on its own considering their sheer difference in weight class. “Sorry.”

The DM sent one last dirty look to each and every Player before saying, “What. Do you do.”

***

“Sorry for all the fuckery. I really was just making a joke.”

“It’s fine,” he said with a dismissive wave. Sure the entire dramatic progression got thrown off, the encounters were all out of order now, he had to adjust the miniboss’s stats on the fly, and all the while make up an entire alternate story whole cloth in real time, but it was fine. They finished the boss fight. Now he just had to do it again next week.

Sanji clapped him on the shoulder as he passed by out the door, once, twice, the second one lasting longer than the first. “Nah, really. Sorry. Though it was real cool, the way you pulled through. Not everybody can improvise like that, y’know?”

He could not improvise a coherent response to that and by the time he thought of something, Sanji was tromping through the snow off to wherever his place was, leaving nothing but a casual wave backwards, and in the end it was probably a good thing that he didn’t get to say what he thought of because it was really stupid and dumb and god, why are pick-up lines so embarrassing?

He walked back inside, floated his way up the steps, opened up his textbook, and started to imagine the next story for the players to go through.

***

“Ughhhhh midterms,” he moaned. Sanji shushed him with a look that clearly stated, ‘We’re in a fucking library, dumbass.’ He shushed back, managing to inject a mocking tone into it. Sanji looked appalled, hand to his chest like he had been shot, and then shushed again with venom.

Nami very silently collapsed on her open laptop. “You’re both awful. I hate you. Why did I think you two would help study.”

“Because we’re both very handsome,” Sanji said, leaning coyly on his hand, his voice going deep.

“Because we actually study,” he answered, though his mind stuck on how Sanji had said the word ‘we.’ “Luffy would just goof off.”

“Zoro’s an idiot,” Sanji added.

“Zoro prefers his own answers,” he offered diplomatically.

“Zoro’s more of a work-out buddy. Test me.” Nami thrust her notebook across the table. Sanji was the one who picked it up, but instead of looking at the page he glanced sharply up.

“I didn’t know you worked out.”

“What, you don’t?”

Sanji patted his chest. “Lungs.”

“Exercise is gross,” was his own contribution.

Nami grimaced. “You guys probably should think about it. I mean, it’s included in the tuition! Not using the gym is like wasting money!”

“Maybe for us, but you’re here on scholarship,” Sanji pointed out.

“Not if I don’t keep up my GPA. Test me already.”

***

“Hey guys! This’s Vivi! She’s from Egypt and she’s here ‘cause we traded some other guy for her, but she’s cool so that’s okay.”

“...You’re talking about a student exchange program, right? You’re not just casually talking about human trafficking or something, this is just your way of describing a goddamn fucking normal student exchange program, right? Please?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, I am from the student exchange program,” Player Five said, bobbing her head with a bit of fluster.

“Don’t apologize for him. Christ. I fucking swear you do that on purpose...” In response, Player One only laughed. Player Four flipped him off.

“Hey.” Player Two nudged Player Three, who startled and glanced around for a second. “Nami. You haven’t even said hi yet. C’mon.”

“Oh? O-oh! Haha, sorry! Welcome! Uh, so like...DnD…you have that in Egypt…?”

Her expression of dawning embarrassment, horror, anger, and resignation was all too familiar to the DM, and he wondered if maybe he could take her aside and talk, maybe have a confidant, a partner in pine(ing). But then again, how would he even start the conversation? ‘Hi, I noticed that maybe you’re in lesbians with the new girl, well, I happen to be gay for the new guy, wanna hang out and just bash our heads against the endless bullshit of feelings forever?’

It was in this particular misery, thought the DM, that he wouldn’t prefer company.

***

“Oh, sorry, I can’t, already promised to help Vivi look over her essay before the deadline tonight.”

“So Egypt has procrastination too…”

He shoved Sanji with his shoulder, who shoved back immediately. “I mean, we could still study together while you did that, though. No reason to cancel.”

Sanji and Nami both gave him a look that was usually reserved for the obtuse, and he instinctively looked around for Luffy and Zoro. “...What? I didn’t say anything weird…”

“They’re dating, shithead,” said Sanji, while Nami reflexively beamed beside him.

“...We just met her like, two days ago.”

“Yeah, it took a little while for us to break each others’ barriers…”

“You met her two days ago.”

“Anyways,” Nami shoved her shoulder into Sanji, who, stickman that he was, slammed into his hapless neighbor, forcing the both to stumble. “You guys could take advantage of this alone time too.”

“Uh,” he said, but it was lost in the middle of Sanji’s, “Wh-Wha—talking, you, that’s not, ahahaha! Okay, good funny! – Joke, I said joke!” The two watched as Sanji somehow performed a visual representation of a spittake using only his arms before, as if someone had wound him up like a toy car, very suddenly zoomed ahead.

Nami gave him another look, this one a bit pitying. Though mostly, it was just exasperated.

***

They all became aware of the discomfort at various points, but it was Player Two who said, a few sessions later, “It’s getting a bit crowded here.”

Five players wasn’t necessarily too much for a tabletop campaign, but it certainly was too much for this particular tabletop. They leaked around the sides, almost encroaching on the designated DM-only space.

“We’re gonna need a bigger table,” said Player Four with a completely straight face, and then looked disappointed when not even Player One deigned to supply a laugh.

“Well...yeah, I mean, I guess...but I don’t think coffee tables get much bigger than this.”

“We need an actual table, doofus,” Player Three said, bopping him lightly on the head. “With chairs.”

The DM hissed inward. “I’m an engineering and art double major, you think I have that sort of cash?”

“I’m still surprised that you even have the fucking time for this.”

“The family who is housing me has a table with chairs,” Player Five offered.

The other people sitting around the table hummed hesitantly. “Are they really gonna be okay with five random students coming in and playing a weird game where we pretend we’re fighting dragons in dungeons?” the DM asked with a faint, nervous chuckle.

***

“Thank you for being such good friends with Vivi,” said the woman who was apparently very okay with five random students coming in and playing a weird game where they pretended to fight dragons in dungeons. Her abode had more than three rooms. He had almost forgotten that that was possible.

Vivi stood beside her replacement mom (who was, in turn, standing in front of presumably her son – the kid hid his face the entire time and didn’t speak), hands clasped in front, smiling like she really really hoped that Robin (the woman insisted on them calling her by her first name, and even being a legal adult didn’t make that feel not weird) wouldn’t embarrass her. But Robin had prepared cookies and drinks and a much larger table, and that was enough to win a student’s respect.

Nami flopped into an actual for real chair and leaned back, stretching exaggeratedly. “Ahh! Much better!”

And objectively, yeah, it was. Of course it was. There was no contest because the contest wouldn’t have pitted the two spaces together in the first place, because that would have been ridiculous. Like pitting a sumo wrestler against a fencer. So he shouldn’t feel hurt or anything.

That would just be silly.

***

“I can’t help it, these chairs just feel weird.” The DM shifted again in his chair, this time curling one leg under him and letting the other dangle on the side.

“Well,” Player Two responded, juggling three dice with one hand, “Maybe it wouldn’t feel weird if you sat in the damn chair like a normal-ass person.”

“Says the idiot sitting cross-legged.”

“I don’t want to hear that from you of all people!”

Player Five’s expression turned towards revelation. “Oh, this sitting pattern is unusual? I assumed that you Americans...erm…” She ducked her head, as if already apologizing for beginning such a brazen statement. “That is to say...”

Player Three nudged her, or rather, leaned into her more, as they were already practically sitting in the same chair. “I mean, with the examples you have…” The two of them glanced around together, which prompted the rest of the table to follow along. A quick survey of chair-seating styles revealed: three absolutely normal ones (Player One counted only because he kept standing up and walking around anyways and thus did not sit long enough to even get into an odd position); one halfsies; one cross-legged; and then Player Four.

Player Four, for some reason, had seemingly taken it upon himself to out-shock the others every session with whatever messed up position he had cooked up over the week. Today, it involved setting the chair upside-down, hooking the back chair legs with his own legs while facing away from the table, and leaning his head back so he was seeing everybody the wrong way up. (Last session, the position he chose involved holding his unlit (Robin insisted) cigarette with his toes and pretend-smoking it every few minutes.)

Survey completed, Three turned back to Five. “...I wouldn’t blame you for thinking it.”

“Hey, so anyways, weren’t we about to get shot or something?” Player Four drawled, rolling his dice from hand to hand above his face.

“Ah, right, yes, anyways, there are villagers with guns, and they are pointing them at you and telling you to turn around and leave. What do you do?

“I’m gonna punch ‘em!”

“Ah, wait,” Player Five reached out and managed to catch Player One’s arm before he let loose his dice. “I do not think that would be a good idea, are we not here to ask them for help?”

Player One scrunched his face. “But we haven’t had a fight in like, foreeeevverrr…”

“Yes, but consider – “

“One of the villagers gets spooked and shoots at you, Luffy. And Vivi, I assume you’re next to him? Both of you roll.”

Above the shouts and complaints of ‘not allowed,’ and ‘they were talking’ and ‘free actions!’, Player Five put on a grim face, and quietly rolled. It was only when the sound of the die stopped that everybody went silent and leaned in. And, after registering the number, leaned back in their chairs and sighed.

“...Nine…?” Player Five looked up at him, still holding onto hope. And the DM, separated from the rest of them by a flimsy, thin, cardboard screen, just looked down.

“...The ring of gunfire continues to echo on the walls of this rugged channel far longer than the time it takes for the bullet to soar, unerringly, to its target. But Vivi, holding Luffy back, you’re in the way of the shot, and you get hit for...seven damage. Up top, one of the villagers shouts at the one who made the shot – ‘I told you not to fire unless I signal for it!’ The other villager: ‘B-but he…’

“Anyways, roll for initia – “

Player Five throws out an arm across the table. The sudden movement from her and the interruption surprised everyone else, and they froze. “Wait,” she said, needlessly.

A pause.

“...I stand up.”

(“Wait, was she prone before?”

“I dunno, maybe the mook’s gun has some sorta status-inflicting thing – “

“Shh!”)

Her look is intense as she continues: “...I walk forward, in front of everybody else. And I kneel on the deck and bow my head to them.”

(“Uh, what.”

“Wait, are we not fighting?”)

“And then, I say...ah...something like…’Please, someone on board our ship is deathly ill! All we want is a doctor to treat her. I beg you!’”

Player One stared at Five for a moment, then suddenly turned his head towards one of the doors. When the DM followed his gaze, he saw a small someone who squeaked in surprise upon being seen, and immediately hid...his face. Behind the door frame. Leaving the rest of his body out in plain sight.

“...I’m doing the same,” Player One said, much to everybody’s immense shock, though Player Five shot an appreciative smile towards him, even when he literally enacted what his character was doing by slamming his forehead against the table with such force that dice scattered everywhere and Player Four’s chair skidded backwards, causing him to hit his head on the table’s edge on his way down.

***

It was a gentle tug on his shirt that roused him and he immediately roused his head, a d20 peeling off his cheek. “Snanjee…?” he said, although he already knew that it couldn’t have been Sanji, due to him not being on the floor courtesy of a foot in his ass. By the sounds of it, Sanji was still living it up in the kitchen, washing all the dishes, wiping them down, chatting up the twenty-eight year old woman, the works (and, like, this is entirely backwards isn’t it? Shouldn’t the passenger be waiting on the ride, not the other way around?), and in the meantime, everybody else had long gone, including Vivi, who was being smuggled into Nami’s dorm for the night. Which just left…

Despite his eyes feeling like a constant yawn, he reflexively smiled down at the kid, who had backed away once he sat up, tugging the brim of his hat so far down that it was doubtful he could actually see past it. And despite his throat feeling like ragged curtains, he said, “Hey there. My name’s Usopp. How’s it going?”

“    ,” said the kid.

“Er. Sorry, what was that?”

“...friends with Vivi…?”

“Me? Uh. Yeah, yeah I am.”

The kid took in this information seemed to calculate some sort of logical trajectory towards a pre-chosen conclusion, and finally looked up, showing his entire face. “...’m Tony...are you...umm…” The kid scrunched up his face, the blue band-aid on his nose flaking at the edges. He smoothed it down and sniffed. “...a, teacher…?”

Oof. Right in the gut. Forgetting himself for a moment, he recoiled and spluttered at Tony. “T-teacher? Wh, what makes you think that, I would be,” someone who could be looked to for information, for advice, someone who demanded respect, someone who knew his shit, has his shit, had locked his shit down and thrown away the key?

“Um...you were...uh, reading. To everybody else. Umm, my old teachers, did that.”

Oh. Well. A paper-ish object that could unfold, held in front of the face of one person, everybody else, arranged in a semi-circle-esque arrangement in front, sitting, the, well...yeah, it is what it is, storytelling...and what other figure could a kid ever liken that to…?

“...Not quite, no. I’m,” did he really want to explain the entire concept of tabletop role playing to someone’s, uh...five-year-old? “...a storyteller. I’m just telling stories.”

Big round eyes stared up at him, reminding him of his own stare from the faint reflection in the window, years and years ago, back when he still bothered to wait and watch for his dad.

Inwardly, he sighed and prayed for the survival of his voice. “Here – c’mon, take a seat. This is a long one, alright? This is a tale of adventure, heroism, piracy, and freedom!” (Pause to check his attention, yup, eyes on him.) “So it all begins with three people sitting in a tavern…”

(From then on, he noted with a bit of vindictive smugness, the rider-passenger relationship oddity was righted and Sanji had to wait on him, without cigarettes, for as long as it took for him to reach a stopping point. His victory was dampened slightly by Sanji not even having the courtesy to look irate, but oh well. He was too busy improvising new material on the fly, as telling a campaign straight was far faster than playing through it.

“Hm. I guess we should expect going to the sky in the near future.”

“No, shut up, or I’m making you walk.”)

***

Not everybody could stick around the area after the semester was over, but everybody was there to see Vivi off for her flight back home. The night before, they had given her character a send-off as well and she had surprised everybody by giving a heartfelt speech, and he had cried so much that he was sure he wouldn’t have tears left over for the real deal but no, all she had to do was wave goodbye and here he goes again.

“Don’t be a fucking doofus,” said Sanji, throat strained. “We’ve got video chat. It’s not like we’re not seeing her again.”

“Wanna tell that to Nami?” he muttered back, rubbing at his eyes. Sanji glanced towards where Nami had suddenly thrown herself onto Vivi in a tight hug right before the line through airport security, then nudged him roughly with his shoulder. He nudged back.

They all stayed standing outside the entrance to security, waving even though she had disappeared behind a wall. Zoro dropped his arm. “Still say we shoulda kidnapped her,” he said, and Tony turned slightly teary eyes towards him.

“Sh-she could’ve stayed?” And, his wide eyes continued, why didn’t you do it when you had the chance?! Zoro fumbled with his words for a second and then winced when he received a thwap on his back.

“Shut up about that already!” Nami hissed. “We’re literally right in front of security!” Which wasn’t a hard ‘no,’ and that was somewhat worrying, but Vivi left, un-kidnapped.

This would probably mean the end of the Playing at an Actual House era, or normally it would, probably, but Robin said, before they went separately to their own modes of transportation, “You are all still welcome to my home, by the way. I do enjoy your company, and I believe Tony does too.”

“I, I mean, we wouldn’t want to impose – “

“Yeah, sure!” Luffy replied, beaming. And that was that.

***

“Are you alright?” Robin asked the DM after one of his jaw-dropping yawns. They were getting more frequent as of late, given that, also as of late, he’s been going to sleep around two in the morning and had to wake up around seven.

Still, he said, “Nah, I’m okay,” and turned back to the group. Who were also staring at him.

“It’s just about midterms week,” Player Three said, tapping her nails on the table. “What do art classes do for that? And aren’t you taking a bunch of engineering classes too?”

“Look, if you got some other shit to do, then we can skip a few weeks, man. Like, you’ll probably fucking die of overwork if you keep up like this.”

“I’ve handled it before,” the DM shot back, standing his guidebook up in front of him to bury his face in it. Conversation over. But it didn’t really seem like anybody else got the memo.

“Yeah. But the workloads change. Just because you handled it before doesn’t mean you’ll be safe the second time.”

Player Four whistled low and long. “Damn, that was some actual good advice, considering where it came from.” He raised an arm just in time to catch Player Two’s foot trying to push him out of his chair. “But yeah, seriously, a game’s fun and all but it’s not worth it to ruin your health or anything.”

“As if art majors are ever healthy.”

“Ha. But seriously, get some sleep.”

“We’re in the middle of some really heavy, plot-important stuff though!”

Player One jumped up before anybody could say anything else and shouted, “Robin! Hey Robin! C’mere a sec!”

Robin walked three steps closer to Player One.

“There you are!”

“There I am,” Robin replied with a faint smile.

“Hey, can you DM?”

The look on Robin’s face was almost odd to see, being something other than placid politeness and even-tempered compassion. “Me? Ah, well...I could attempt it, if nobody minds.”

“Great! Then let’s do that, and you can just be a player like the rest of us, I mean you got a buncha DMPCs anyways. How’s that sound?”

“Good advice from Zoro and a good plan from Luffy?”

“Guess the apocalypse is happening.”

“So? Whaddya think?”

He thought that he really was fine, everybody was making a big deal out of nothing. He thought that it was a big mistake to just ask someone inexperienced with DnD or even just general tabletop roleplaying to suddenly jump in as DM in the middle of an arc. He thought, what, now I’m not good enough either?

“Yeah. Okay.”

***

It turned out that Robin was really fucking good at being a DM.

Not that she was making everything up out of whole cloth. There were clearly parts of the twists and turns that were based on his decisions and he could see his original inkling of ideas through all the embellishments that the New DM gave them. She was quick on her toes too, barely a pause between action and reaction, even for the reactions that were improvised on the spot when things went off the rails.

Did things actually go off the rails?

It must have gone off the rails at some point, but all Player Six could feel about the session just now was how in control the New DM was. And how much fun everybody was having. (More fun than they were having with him?)

It was too unfair. She was too well composed. She had an age advantage. She was naturally fearless. (Which made even less sense why she would agree to even play DnD.) When the next session date rolled around, Player Six felt like he’d like nothing more than to just stay in bed.

***

WERE R U??????

yea sorry

not feelin up to it

SICK????

SHOULDER WE CANCEL?????

SHULD

guess so

SHOULD

OK!!!

***

Except no, that wouldn’t be fair at all.

***

actally just go ahead an start without me mk

no worries

U SHORE????

yea just treat my chara like an npc

that’s what he was initially lmao

U OK?

no big deal it’s fine

HNG ON WAIT A SEC

***

OKAY! I THINK I DID IT RIGHT!!

what

Oh my fucking god Luffy we’re literally in the same room

And you made a group chat

how did u even get my #

Hello there, we heard from Luffy that you are not feeling well?

Forget namis number how the fuck did you get ROBINS number

guys

ZORO’S PHONE IS OLD AND DUMB

SO I’M GONNA TALK FOR HIM

y r u shouting

HE SAYS

you can really start without me

TI WON T BE TEH SAME WITOUT HIM HERE

NOW HE’S SAYING THATS NOT HAWHT HE SAID

NOW HE’S IELDKGNBHG

It’s true. I am seeing and hearing this first-hand.

Zoro is truly ieldkgnbhg.

lmao

so whats going on :0

Luffy is busy ill take over

its nothin really

Zoros wrestling and holy fuck i think he just broke luffyss phone

Not much to break actually

Luffyss phone already cracked to hell

told Luffy already yall can start w/o me

:/ but its not dnd wo u

we can w8

but i dont wanna like

Theyre still at it

make you guys just not have fun

wat u mean

Okay zoro said sorry so i guess thats done

Hey yo whatre you talking about with that shit

like just cause i don feel like playin

doesnt mean yall cant play

Yeah well just cause we all wanna play

Doesnt mean we cant wait for you jackass

^ wat Sanji sed

neway is it just u dont feel like leeving bed

guys seriously tho

Im all serious here

i mean i guess

if thats it

cant we just do

Would you feel up to playing remotely? Through a video call?

a face

wat robin sed lmao

i dunno

HI BACK

Look would you rather fucking play

Or not

i guess

I JSTU READ EVERYTHING!

I THINK VIDEO WORLD BE COOL!!!

WOULD

u dont gotta correct we no wat u mean

JUST

yeah

Alright then were video calling

HURRAY!!!

And we can FINALLY stop fucking

Texting each other in the SAME FUCKING ROOM

lmao

:)

***

“Hey, let me help you with the dishes,” he said, before Sanji could even scoot out of his chair. He could feel the putrid glare trying to rot his back away, but continued on unabated. Robin smiled at him the smile usually reserved for Sanji’s routine courtesy gesture, inviting him into the kitchen, and the two of them stood side by side, Robin quietly taking the heavy skillets that his own (totally buff and extremely ripped) arms struggled to hold under the faucet, him thoroughly wiping down the utensils, neither of them even bringing up the dishwasher in the room as was customary in his mom’s (and apparently Robin’s) house.

He gave himself five forks to work up the nerve and said, “I’m sorry. For being, uh, a brat. About the…game...and all…” Pause. “Uh, wait, I guess I should, explain, what I’m apologizing for, uh, shit – I mean, shoot, agh, crap, uh.”

“It’s alright,” Robin said, wiping down a skillet. “Emotions happen. This, ah, campaign was yours for so long, and all of a sudden…”

“Well, yeah, but I still probably shouldn’t have…”

“Gotten upset that something that was near and dear to you was suddenly wrenched out of your own power with barely a consideration or even conversation?” Robin pushed the faucet to his side of the sink while shaking off a bit of drops from a pot. “Maybe it would have felt better not to. But it doesn’t mean you should or shouldn’t have done this or that. Frankly, I feel that I must owe you an apology myself. I admit, I...am not quite sure why, but I had assumed that, well, Luffy was...how to say...the leader…?” She shrugged. I can’t say why I thought, in a game where one person plays a role called ‘Dungeon Master,’ that one of the players was the, ah, owner of the game.”

“No, no. I can totally understand, It’s Luffy. I don’t even think I would have ever met any of these other people if it weren’t for him.” Definitely wouldn’t have met Robin at all, in any case, and, actually, now that he thought some more, he had been joking but...wasn’t the common point to everybody just, literally, Luffy?

“There is something else I neglected to do.”

“Hm?” He shook his head and tried to play off the fact that he had just let water run over a spoon for half a minute by pretending he hadn’t at all.

“Thank you. For talking to Tony.”

He blinked. “That’s all? Uh – wait, no, I don’t mean that in like, a, like, thank you – no, you’re welcome? Fu – frick, agh, why,”

Robin laughed. “Don’t underestimate the pulling power of your storytelling. Perhaps Luffy has brought people together, but Usopp, why do you think they keep coming back…?”

He froze for an eternity, contained in a second. Processed it. Held it close to his chest, and tried to take it in. It leaked out of his eyes, dripping down past his reflexive smile. He tried to express everything he felt, the gratitude surprise realization elation...and replied,

“Ah.”

[doycetopia]

Ravenloft Ironsworn, Session 17, Sojourn

Well, it’s been a minute since I’ve been able to find time to play, but luckily I can read all my lovely game notes and get caught right back up.

The google doc where I’m saving everything is 96 pages at this point, which makes it exactly three times longer than the original Ravenloft I6 module. Nice.

Okay!

Brigitte sleeps for seventeen hours. Gets up, sees to her necessaries, eats, and goes back to sleep for another six hours, which puts us close to 24 hours since our merry band staggered back into down. Probably enough time for Gertruda to do something stupid, but I don’t have time to worry about that right now.

What I should be worried about is what the Qashida are up to. I realized after wrapping up last session that my failed Gather Information probably gave the Qashida (the Threat attached to one of my Vows) an opportunity to get up to shenanigans, so let’s see if they take advantage of it.

Okay, so they’re basically working the shadows, sneaking up on me and I mark a second menace on that threat. Fiiiine.

So I’m a bit demoralized (down by 2 in spirit) and my supplies could be better. I’m back in town, which is exactly what the Sojourn move is FOR, so I’m going to do that. There’s a lot going on in this move, so buckle in.

Okay. That first bit is pretty straightforward. Roll +heart, and I do have a bond with the village, thankyouverymuch, so I’ll be having that +1.

Oh, cheese and crackers, seriously? Ugh.

Fine.

I’m focusing on the stuff in the Recover section, and since I share a bond with the town, I still get to choose two things.

So, rolling heart a couple more times, both with a +1 from the bond. You’ll have to trust me on these, since I’m not going to copy-paste in two more rolls for the same move.

(This is a VERY roll-y move – if I was in a group of three players and got a strong hit here, that’s 7 or eight rolls at the table before the whole thing is wrapped up. Crazy. It’s worth noting that Starforged does this differently now – there’s just the one roll at the top, and then all the selected recovery actions are assumed to have succeeded at a similar level, basically. Much faster and cleaner, without the Mouseguard-like messiness of “oh, I screwed up all my recovery phase rolls, so now I’m worse off than I was.”)

Anyway: In Ironsworn, I still have to roll, and on my rolls I get a 9 against a 6,5 and an 8 against a 4,3 (I’m quite happy to have prioritized Heart when rolling up Brigitte) so that’s two Strong hits for Consort (+2 spirit), and Provision (+2 supply), which maxes me out. The Strong hits give me 2 additional points of both spirit and supply recovery, but that does nothing for me in this case – I’m already maxed out. It’s a good problem to have.

I envision this as a pretty chill day spent around the town. Word gets out that I and Ismark and Ireena braved the Castle and returned alive and basically unharmed, which is pretty much unheard of in living memory when it comes to outsiders who decide to mix it up with the Baron. Ismark embellishes some of the heroics a bit, and the mood in the village lightens considerably during the day, especially when Gertruda and Mary are seen at the front door of their home. It’s just a generally upbeat day of smiles and nods and a lot of hopeful faces.

Brigitte will happily take it, though she turns down any offers of free dinner and bunks down in the chapel again, reasoning that right now it’s probably the safest place in town if Strahd decides to make a move. (Hooray for a high concentration of major holy artifacts.)

So. One good day. Let’s see if we can ruin it by asking awkward questions the next day.

“What can you tell me of a cult called the Qashida, shopkeep?” She asks, not so casually, the next morning.

That’s a natural six on my action die, plus the bonus from my bond with the village. Hot dice tonight.

On a strong hit, +2 momentum (bringing me to 10), but more importantly the path I must follow is made clear.

I’m going to ask the oracle about the next step, because I’d like to see if it gives me an interesting twist.

The shopkeep’s eyelids lower, and he shoots a glance at the door to the street, but the only people within earshot are Ismark and Ireena. He seems to relax.

My first roll on the “Character Goals” oracle was “roll twice”, and I followed that up with Protect a Person, and Create and Items.

“They are sworn to the Count,” whispers the man, his lips barely moving beneath a bushy mustache. “Generations, they have been his willing lapdogs, as bad as the worst Vistani.” He spits to the side.

“Why?”

“Power, why else?” The man’s face looks sour. “The baron has been alive for centuries. The knowledge he has – the secrets he knows – they want them. Rumors say there is some unholy phylactery they would assemble, if only they possessed the final puzzle pieces. They think if they can keep the baron beholden to them long enough, they will have it.

The words chill me, because I think I know what it is the old man speaks of.

And I know now I must return to the castle as soon as I can.

original post

[whumptasticwednesday]

Insult to Injury ft. Dadneto (Peter Maximoff - X-Men)

Author’s Note: Hey, ya’ll. I’ve been burning the midnight oil to get this fic out on time, AKA 2 consecutive nights of staying up till’ 3 am. I’ve had the idea for a Peter-centric Dadneto whump fic for a decent amount of time, and after receiving a lovely anonymous prompt, I decided to incorporate both my idea and theirs. Here we’ve got Peter after the events of Apocalypse, debilitated, and accidentally giving himself a nasty case of salmonella, before Erik comes to help. I’m pretty proud of this one, so I hope you enjoy it! This fic is unedited, sorry, so please let me know if there’s any glaring issues. For my next fic, I’m shifting away from X-Men for a hot sec so I can write a nice Detroit: Become Human whump fic with our favorite android son, Connor. I’ve been super excited about my plot concept, so I’m ecstatic to start writing it. Anyways, I hope you like this one, I worked very hard on it, and I hope you’re all excited for the DBH fic coming soon!

-Ash

Word Count: 6299

Warning: Emeto and decently graphic descriptions of physical illness

Setting: Post-Apocalypse/Pre-Dark Phoenix

If there's anything Peter Maximoff knew in this moment, it was that not being able to do the one thing your body was genetically enhanced to do, sucked. A lot.

It had been only a few days since the X-Mansion had been rebuilt and things all fell back into this synonymous routine as if the entire building hadn't exploded a short while ago. In Peter's opinion, it was all kind of creepy how easy it seemed for these kids to all just go back to learning when their home and school just got eviscerated in a hellfire, but he didn't think much of it.

All he could think about in this moment, was how immensely bored he was. Peter always had something going on with him; he was either thinking about his impending dad-related issues, plotting a prank, or deciding to go off and steal an entire Walmart's worth of Twinkies in the blink of an eye, there was always something.

Yet now, the rest of the X-Men were off with Charles helping cover up heat from the international press by cleaning up all the damage and destruction in Cairo and showing what Charles had dubbed: "diplomacy", which was too huge of a word for Peter to ever use in an everyday sentence; too many letters, and Peter was left back at the mansion since he really couldn't use his powers effectively at the moment, so it would be pretty useless for him to be tagging along.

Peter normally wouldn't have given a damn, maybe even excited at the prospect of being able to rig his friends' rooms with elaborate traps with Jello and staplers or something of the sorts while they weren't around, yet now, when faced with inescapable boredom that followed him wherever his broken leg did (everywhere), he was dying to have anything to do. As the team was suiting up to get on the jet to go back to Cairo, Peter had pathetically hobbled down to the X-Men bunker on his crutches, begging to be taken with. But they'd simply gassed up the plane and flew off, leaving Peter alone, and oh so very bored.

Which brings us to Peter now, attempting to create an omelette with 6 different cheeses, 8 different and poorly-diced peppers, a heaping assortment of minced tomatoes, and a sprinkling of those off-brand fruit snacks that are always better than the on-brand ones for some reason. It wouldn't be a Peter breakfast without some form of sweet, and in his eyes, it stuck to the healthy-ish theme. It had fruit in the name for a reason, didn't it?

The kid always had a massive appetite, and everyone that knew Peter knew this as well. You'd be hard pressed to find him without some snack or form of sustenance in his hand, scarfing it down like there was no tomorrow. It was all a byproduct of his enhanced metabolism. All that energy to run had to come from somewhere, didn't it? Little did he know, this super stomach of his would come to kick him in the ass in a few short hours. But for now, the silver-haired man child of a mutant was limping around the mansion's kitchen making a very... exotic breakfast for dinner meal.

Peter plopped the strange looking (decently gooey) excuse for an omelette into a large plate with some Twinkies and orange juice on the side. As he devoured his dinner, Peter thought anxiously about Erik. It had taken him 10 years to connect the dots, work up the courage, and even think of confronting the man to tell him of his true parentage, yet wimped out at the last minute, leaving the ambiguous: "I'm here for my family too." Peter groaned audibly to himself as his mind once again replayed the events he'd already replayed a million times before. It was embarrassing as all hell. Luckily, nobody that did know told Erik anything, which Peter was very grateful for.

Imagine learning about a woman you left 2 and a half decades ago actually birthing a son you had no idea existed and just now learned of... but not from him, despite several encounters beforehand where he had ample opportunities to do so. It'd make Peter feel like even more of a loser than a 27 year old who still lived in his mother's basement. But, to be fair, Peter was no longer a grown man living with his mom, he was a grown man living in a school where he was many years past the oldest enrolled student, while not teaching a single class; it was a step up from the basement, trust me.

Once finished with his omelette, Peter quickly washed his dishes and made his trek up the small flight of stairs to reach his room on the second floor. Over the past few days, Peter had learned just how high a set of stairs could be, especially when you end up falling down them on several attempts to slide down the handrail (and failing miserably while being laughed at by dozens of impressionable pre-teen children.) What a loser.

After reaching his room, particularly winded from this dinner excursion, Peter was grateful to see that he hadn't unplugged his television from the wall after his embarrassing fall in an attempt to get to the bathroom by himself, without his crutches, or the lights on. A simple recipe for disaster in nearly all circumstances, yet for some reason, the universe held pity for Peter and his debilitated state, and decided to not make his day any worse than it already was.

Peter ultimately decided to entertain himself with a good night-long play session of Pac-Man on his Atari 2600, also still miraculously undamaged from last night's fall. He booted up the inferior version of the game (seriously though, he'd have to get Kurt to help him teleport his arcade cabinet from his basement to the school, playing this one was getting a bit tiring on the eyes.) It sufficed, he thought as the TV harshly flashed on.

Now normally, Peter would have been up all night with his video games and rock music blaring in the background, yet tonight, something (besides his immobile leg) felt really off. Each distinct 'WOMP' from the console as the yellow circle man consumed the dashes and dots felt like a sledgehammer into Peter's eardrums, leaving a resonating ache at the base of his skull. He didn't think much of it and brushed it off, simply turning down his music a notch and backing away from the TV a few inches.

The next confusing sign that something wasn't quite right was the disconcerting shivers wracking his body. A chilly breeze seemed to sweep the room as if the AC was on full blast with the windows open on a November midnight, yet it was July and all the windows were closed and when he went to check if his AC unit was acting up, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. That's whack, Peter thought to himself as he plopped onto his bed, Atari abandoned on the rugged floor.

He didn't know how long he spent staring at the unmoving chandelier hanging lamely from the ceiling, but it felt as if seconds later, the room was not only freezing, but spinning, and suffocating. Everything felt way too close. Peter could feel every fiber of his shirt rubbing against his jacket, the itchy inside of his cast pressing up against the entirety of his right leg, and the presence of his goggles resting on his neck, now seeming like a noose closing in on his throat. He hastily tore off the eyewear and tossed them on his nightstand before deciding to shed his jacket and weakly throwing it across the room. Another move he regretted.

Without the jacket to keep his arms warm, the newfound seemingly frosty atmosphere felt like a icy flurry against his skin. In spite of his mind's confused wishes, Peter ripped the heavy blanket off the end of the bed and closed it around himself like a caterpillar ready to emerge as a butterfly the next time it saw the daylight. Peter sure as hell didn't feel like a caterpillar, but if the feeling of metamorphosis was a growing sense of intense nausea and cramping in the stomach, then hell yeah, he was crushing this butterfly business.

Fuck, what's wrong with me?! He thought to himself as he rolled onto his side. Peter rubbed at his eyes, hoping to clear the dizziness, yet only further irritating them. God damnit, he sighed internally as his face scrunched up in discomfort, releasing one of his hand's hold on the blanket to cradle his aching stomach.

"Is this karma for all that shit I stole when I was younger? That's just mean, man," Peter rasped to nobody in particular. He thought about it more though and responded to his own question, "Then again, I think that's pretty fair. Haha...Shit, man. Never thought I'd say this, but I think... I think I need help."

The sledgehammer-like headache was pounding with every bass drum beat lightly emanating from the sound system Peter hadn't turned off, another move he regretted. He couldn't decide if the pros outweighed the cons: hobbling through the dark to possibly remedy a source of his suffering, but relinquishing his hold on the only thing keeping him from feeling like freezing. Peter played it safe, much to his cranium's dismay.

Peter stared off towards the wall at nothing in particular as he tried oh so hard to draw his mind's focus from how terrible he felt to literally anything else. It wasn't working out so well. And so, Peter laid there, blanket tossed over himself, single leg drawn up to his chest, shivering like a leaf in a rainstorm, as nauseous as a toddler who just rode their first roller coaster, feeling like he was about to cry, and alone. What a miserable way to spend the night.

------

If there's anything Erik Lehnsherr knew in this moment, it was that he was beyond irritated that Charles wasn't at the mansion to run his own school. Despite leaving the school once he'd helped rebuild it to try and seek solitude to wrap his mind around his place in the world and everything that'd happened to him, Erik was back at the mansion once again. He was ready to lay down the foundations for his new mutant hideaway, Genosha, and needed Charles's connections to the government to help smooth over his charges and get clearance to have his isolated society where he might truly find happiness and solace. The universe had spoken, and he obviously wasn't cut out to be a nuclear family kind of guy.

Unbeknownst to him, Erik had once again meandered into a setting with his unrealized son. Also unbeknownst to him, that son was currently cooped up alone in his room, feeling like death.

Erik uncomfortably paced around the mansion, checking Charles's office, the X-Men bunker, and all the other places he might have been, yet the telepath was nowhere to be found. Erik sighed, he knew coming this late was a bargain, one, it turns out, he'd come to lose. The school itself was eerily quiet. It was if the entire mansion was empty or something. Peaceful, yet unsettling for a man who knew nothing but chaos.

Erik was about to borrow a book someone had abandoned in the foyer when he heard the muffled melodies of American rock music echoing from the upstairs floor. It must be that problematic Peter child, Erik thought to himself. From what he told himself was a civil duty to the rest of the sleeping kids in the school (but was actually his own way to cope with his curiosity) Erik decided to check up on the snarky young man to ask if he'd turn down the tunes.

As he approached the door, Erik was bracing himself for something extremely untamed. Perhaps a messy, greasy slophole of a living area, or maybe a drunk and uncontrollably obnoxious man dancing to his music in the nude. You never really knew with Peter, and Erik had come to expect the strangest out of the boy from the few genuine interactions they've had.

Erik gently tapped his knuckles against the door, waiting patiently for a 'come in', or something along the lines of those words, yet it never came. Raising a questioning yet not too surprised eyebrow, Erik knocked again, using slightly harder bangs, not wishing to make a ruckus and wake anyone else in the hallway up. Again, nothing. Although it could have simply boiled down to Peter not hearing him from his loud and abhorrent music, Erik was growing slightly irritated with the lack of a response. So with his last reserves of patience, he knocked one final time, once again listening for a signal or cue to enter. He was met with nothing yet again.

Wondering for the worst and fully expecting to meet a blackout drunk Peter when he opened the door, Erik tentatively jiggled the doorknob, which just so happened to be unlocked, and stepped inside. Thankfully, he was not met with a naked dancing or woefully drunk mutant speedster, but most would probably argue that what he was met with was quite worse. And that being a rancid stench of sick and sour nastiness lingering in the air, a poorly plopped pile of blankets draped over the culprit of the odor, and the culprit himself lying pale and flushed on the floor beside his bed, covered in his own vomit.

Erik's nose crinkled up from being met by the strongly nauseating smell of the room, reaching for the light switch on the wall to aid the sad little table lamp and glow of the TV in illuminating the room. Now he truly saw the pity-worthy situation for what it was. Peter laid in a heap on the ground next to his bed; he'd clearly trying to make it to the en suite bathroom just a few feet away. However, with his dizzy mind and immobile leg, he didn't make it very far and ended up expelling his dinner in a much less... dignified location (if you could consider a toilet bowl a very dignified location), that undignified location being all over his lap and onto his faded Pink Floyd t-shirt.

Not knowing how to really handle the situation, Erik called out a soft, "Peter?" hoping to elicit a response. Yet, just like at the door, he was met with nothing. As he approached the boy, thoughts of anxiety and panic circled through his mind. What would he say to him when he woke up? Would he be uncomfortable with Erik of all people coming to help? Would he be confused? Would he not care? He felt undeniably and inexplicably awkward. Erik shook the thoughts from his conscious as he knelt down to try and meet Peter's face.

"Peter?" he asked again. Erik tentatively reached over to tap the boy's face, which was contorted in a pinched expression of discomfort, marred further by the vomit drying in a trail down his chin.

Once Erik's hand made contact with Peter's cheek, he wanted to retract it. From the split second interaction, Erik had felt the clammy, sweaty, and scorching hot skin and was growing concerned. The slight physical prodding finally made Peter respond.

"Mom?" he asked groggily, voice cracking, "I'll put my dishes in the sink in a minute... I'm tired..."

Erik let out a harsh sigh, bending his neck in an attempt to make eye contact with the boy.

"Peter, I'm not you-" Erik was cut off.

"Yeah yeah... I'm not your maid. I know, Ma. Just... give me five."

"Peter." Erik stated bluntly yet with a hint of unease, unsure if Peter was delirious or just messing with him, "look at me, please."

Peter cracked open his eyes and blearily met Erik's stoic and collected face. He blinked a few times, slowly and deliberately, calculating who was kneeling in front of him, before letting out a weak and wheezy chuckle, "hey there, refrigerator ornament. Wassup?"

Erik rolled his eyes, responding with, "I came to ask you to turn down your atrocious music so you won't wake any of the other children who are trying to sleep. When I came in here, you were passed out on the floor. Would you like to explain to me what happened?"

"Nah... it isn't all too interesting"

"Peter, can you please act like an adult for 2 minutes? Please?"

"Oh man, the Nazi-hunting, president-killing, horseman of the Apocalypse is bustin' out the PLEASES. Look out, world, Lord of the Vacation Souvenirs has a new tactic... MANNERS!"

Peter burst out laughing at his own adolescent joke, ending in a wheezy struggle to catch his own breath. Erik couldn't tell if he was just screwing with him or genuinely needed help. This behavior seemed pretty normal for the immature mutant.

"Look, Peter, I really just need to know if you're okay. Can you answer that simple question, please?"

"Man, your tactics are workin' like a charm. I guess I'll tel-" Peter was cut off by a repulsing gag, hunching over and expelling his stomach's contents... again, this time, however, onto Erik's shirt, quickly travelling in a sad trail down onto his freshly-ironed pants. Peter's bloodshot eyes went side with embarrassment as he quickly transitioned his gaze to the floor.

Erik's face was caught frozen still as his mind caught up with what had just happened. As repulsed as he was, it wasn't like he hadn't seen worse. But that still didn't make the fact that he was just puked on any less disgusting. After audibly exhaling through his nose, Erik once again focused on the miserable man child in front of him, who was now anxiously tapping his fingernails on the hard plaster of his cast, deliberately trying to avoid eye contact.

God damnit, Peter, He thought to himself as he continued tapping, it's bad enough leaving him with a painfully ambiguous response during a battle to save all of humanity, ultimately ruining a perfectly good chance to fess up, but now look what you've done. You fucking threw up on him. Peter felt himself growing smaller as his subconscious shamed him for his uncontrollable bout of illness. It was stupid and ultimately all in his head, but it didn't make him feel any less shit about his situation.

After taking the few quiet seconds, Erik stood up, and whether it was out of pity or some subconscious moral quest, grabbed Peter by the armpits and dragged him to the bathroom.

"W-what the?" Peter asked, confused by the harsh white light of the bathroom and the sudden shift in scenery.

"Well I'm not going to let you sit in your own disgusting clothes. I have standards, you know. Can you undress yourself? I'll get us both some clean clothes."

Peter grunted in response. It meant: yeah, I think I can take off my own clothes, bro... once the room stops spinning. Erik, however, had already up and left, stripping off his own soiled shirt and rifling through Peter's dresser drawers, and taking the opportunity to flick off the television and silence the music that had been awkwardly filling the room's background space up until now.

Peter didn't have much variety in his clothing, dark jeans and band logo t-shirts were most of his dresser's arsenal. Not wishing to be clad in a Metallica shirt for the rest of the night, he dug a bit further into the seemingly endless assortment of shirts till he found a plain white short sleeve, sighing in relief. He grabbed a random shirt from the top of the assortment which just so happened to have the Journey logo on it, and set off to find new pants for the boy.

Back in the bathroom, Peter was still laying slumped against the bathtub, shivering. Everything around him had seemingly slowed to a halt, not unlike when he was running past the speed of sound, but this time deceleration just felt... wrong.

The crashing rhythm of the rock music had come to a halt, yet it didn't cease the incessant throbbing ache in his head, as if the bass riffs and the harsh taps of the snare were on a permanent loop with earbuds permanently glued to his ears. He was trying his best to prevent himself from groaning or whining as to not sound like even more of a child in front of Erik, but honestly, he didn't want his nonexistent father right now, he wanted his mom.

Peter was snapped from his self loathing by Erik's footfalls growing progressively louder as he approached him. Erik had thrown on a pair of track pants and a random white shirt. He was holding a pair of sweatpants and another shirt for Peter so he could be free of his sweat-slick and vomit-covered clothes.

"Hey, you don't get to keep those. I like those pants," Peter stated sarcastically, still trying to put up a front, although he was unsure why. He'd needed help, it was painfully obvious, so why was he still pushing his father away? Resentment? Anger? Pride? No... fear.

"Arms up," Erik instructed, preparing to take Peter's shirt off for him.

"Yo, you know I'm not a toddler, right? I can take off my own god damn shirt."

"You sure don't act like you're a day older than one, and I don't wanna risk you accidentally suffocating getting stuck in your own clothing so... arms up."

Peter sighed and did as he was told. Erik swiftly peeled the top off the boy and felt around his back, finding it clammy and warm. As if he'd just went from the tropics to Antarctica, the shirt leaving his skin exposed his skin to a whole new level of cold. The sensation ripped through his spine as his teeth started chattering. Hoping Erik had a brain underneath that skull, Peter was (im)patiently waiting for the man to save him from the frosty winds of his newly installed Arctic bathroom and slip the new shirt over him already. However, much to Peter's dismay, Erik turned on the tub's faucet, soaking a hand towel in cold water before leaning over and placing it on Peter's exposed back.

The second the frigid cloth made contact with his skin, Peter recoiled, back arching backwards, arms frantically bending to try and remove it. Erik sighed, slightly out of pity, and continued holding it down.

"Is this some cruel punishment? What did I do?" Peter pleaded, hoping to distract himself from crying by use of humor.

"You're scorching and sticky and it's just disgusting. I'm cooling you down, so relax," Erik explained. "It'll be a few more seconds, I just needed to get all the sweat off of you."

And as quickly as it had begun, the endeavor was over and Erik was threading Peter's strikingly pale and flimsy arms through the shirt holes. Peter audibly sighed, feeling like he'd just spent an hour in an industrial freezer and was now back into a normal temperature.

Erik's eyes drifted to Peter's legs, immediately noticing a flaw in his plan. How was he going to change Peter's pants with that full leg cast?

"Peter, how do you typically change your pants considering your current... situation?" Erik asked.

"It's pretty simple. I don't," Peter replied bluntly.

"W-what?"

"Well, after I got my leg set a few days ago, I changed into jeans, not wanting to be in flight suit pants for the next week of my life, and I haven't swapped since. It's like, physically impossible."

"So... you've been wearing the same (disgustingly dirty) pants all week?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Hank says I should be grateful that it'll heal in a couple days, most people you'd find passed out on their floor covered in vomit with a full leg cast would have been wearing their nasty pants for weeks."

Erik sighed, tossing Peter's soiled shirt and the sweatpants back into the bedroom before meeting his gaze.

"Alright, Peter, I'm going to set you up in bed now."

"Sounds grea-" Peter was once again, clamping his hand over his mouth, pathetically dragging himself over to the toilet to prevent throwing up all over himself again.

Erik saw his distress and lifted the toilet lid and seat, prompting Peter to start heaving into the sad and dreary porcelain bowl. Each dry or productive heave sent another pulsing wave of pain and violent nausea from his stomach to seemingly every conceivable inch of his body in a viscous cycle of suffering. Erik could do nothing but watch as the silver-haired boy wretched in agony, each heave causing his breath to hitch, caught in his throat, as another bout of sick rushed up past his lips, crashing into the toilet bowl.

Erik wanted to reach over and rub Peter's back or offer a semblance of physical comfort for the anguish he must have been feeling. He'd often do this for his daughter, Nina, whenever she had a stomach bug. Erik reached out his hand, only to quickly retract it, shaking haunting thoughts from his mind. This boy was not his child, and in no way would he ever come close to being Nina. What was he thinking?

Guilt quickly overtook the memories as Peter finished his session of sickness. He sagged limply against the side of the toilet, face still partially hidden by the rim of the bowl. When he looked up at Erik, he looked awful. Beyond awful.

Red-rimmed eyes, clearly there as Peter attempted to stop the obvious tears from spilling over, met cool yet collected ones, the former's being full of pain, not just from this embarrassment or the physical turmoil he'd just endured, but something else. Erik knew those eyes. He knew them because for so long, they were the ones he'd stared at in the mirror, day after day, for years, until he'd found Charles, only to come face to face again with those demonized eyes in the form of an immature mutant puking his guts out on his bathroom floor. They were the eyes of a young man who was lost, feeling alone, hiding a part of themselves they wanted to let go, to set free, so they could truly be happy, yet he couldn't possibly decipher what could be internally destroying the boy.

"I-I'm sorry you had to watch that..." Peter said softly as his head lolled over.

"It's fine," Erik replied with a tone to match that of Peter's.

"I'm pretty sure... that I'm done. For now?" It came out as more of a question, but at this point, Peter wasn't trusting any signal his body was sending him. Every impulse had been smudged and cloudy in his mind, and paired with the seemingly endless headache and the relentless chills racking his body from the fever, Peter was sure that if his mind were a computer hard drive, it would have self destructed out of a deadly virus slowly hacking into the hardware.

But alas, Peter was no computer, and so he was stuck with this mystery illness, cooped up in his room, unable to run, with Erik mother-hecking Lehnsherr. His fever-addled mind was barely functioning at this point, so he didn't register anything but dizzying blurred images swirling around his head and slightly-grumbled voice swimming in his ears as Erik scooped the kid up like a newlywed bride and carried him off to bed.

Peter had never been more grateful to grace the comfort of his duvet, ready to sleep. He halfheartedly grabbed at it in an attempt to cover himself and finally warm up. Erik sighed with pity, grabbing it for him and draping it over his shoulders before moving over to stand by the nightstand and awkwardly watching Peter try and get comfortable.

Despite the obvious fact that his body wanted him to sleep, Peter's mind was racing everywhere except the realm of unconsciousness. Every thought was emphasized ten-fold as it bounced around his head until the only things remaining were his want, heck, his need, to tell Erik the truth, and the hesitant and unsure anxiety lingering in the background of his subconscious that was stopping him from doing just that.

Fevers, though, as Peter was quickly learning, tended to do weird shit to what your brain was really trying to accomplish, often scrambling any message you tried to expel to the point where it may or may not have even been your true intentions. And hell, it was an even bigger gamble if you'd remember any of the dumb shit you'd done or said. It was as if the heat had boiled all the potentially embarrassing memories away, which was at least kinda nice.

With everything happening, Peter thought it best for Erik to just pack up and scoot from the premises, as not to accidentally say or do something stupid that might come back to bite him in the ass later, but Peter wasn't about to pull an asshole move on the man who'd just helped him despite not being obligated to at all.

So, instead of verbally asking, Peter did the next most "mature" thing he could have in his debilitated and helpless situation. He pretended to be asleep in a pathetic hope that Erik would leave on his own. He didn't. Peter ended up looking like he was trying way too hard to be asleep than any real asleep person, and after a few minutes, Erik caught on.

"Peter, I know you're not actually sleeping," Erik said, not putting on any sort of specific emotion.

Peter cracked one red and tired eye open, meeting Erik's gaze yet again. Peter sighed and turned over onto his side, back to the other man, bleary eyes trying to focus on anything that wasn't Erik. Sleep, a seemingly effortless task for most, eluded Peter as he let out an a low whine. This was miserable.

"Hey, Erik?"

"Yes?"

"I umm... never mind..."

"What were you going to say?"

"It's nothing... I just feel stupid since I can't even do the easiest thing on the planet."

"Is there anything I can do?"

The question struck Peter like a cold dagger to the heart, it sounded so much like something his mom would say, who was practically the only person he wanted in that moment. Peter didn't like to be weak or expose any of his fears. He preferred to be distant and reserved, to hide all that insecurity with stupid dry humor and sarcasm. His mom and his sisters were really the only ones who he'd truly been open with, and when faced with these new circumstances, finally able to reconnect with the father he never had, he was frozen in place, and after pushing people away and closing himself off for so long, not knowing what to do to reach out and truly face what he needed to.

Completely internally and externally overwhelmed, Peter let his dam of pride burst, letting his emotional flood pour out of his eyes in the form of earnest, choked sobs. He bit his lip and weakly rubbed at his eyes in an attempt to hide his distress.

Erik was taken aback, taking a step towards him, before backpedaling as fast as the initial paternal instinct had seized him. He didn't know what to do. Erik was conflicted, scared of overstepping boundaries, but wholeheartedly wanting to comfort the clearly suffering boy lying in bed in front of him.

And in a flash of instinct, an unspoken, deep-rooted, yet unknown draw towards the silver-haired boy, Erik sat down on the mattress, back meeting Peter's, and leaning over his shoulder to rub his back

Erik's hand was shaky, unsure if it should truly be there. He felt the heat radiating off Peter's skin through his t-shirt. Erik glanced down further to Peter's face, and despite the hands trying (and failing) to cover his eyes, saw it covered in a new sheen of sweat quickly mixing with his tears, pale and pasty with angry crimson patches sitting pretty as pictures on his cheeks and forehead. Everything in that moment accentuated both how awfully awkward Erik and truly terrible Peter felt.

Erik didn't even know if Peter was lucid anymore. He was breaking down into tears, shivering and being comforted by someone who was practically a stranger. Eventually, the sobs dwindled into whimpers and Erik's nerves were starting to taper off himself. The room fell into a weirdly calm silence as the two decided to not say anything. Until Peter's shaky voice cut through the room.

"Y-you know... when I was a dumb little kid, I thought I-I could outrun germs. Look at me now. I can't even cook a f-freakin' omelette without making myself sick... I never needed to cook for myself, it was always my mom, or Hostess cakes."

"..." Erik wanted to say something, anything, but he was unsure what, or if Peter would understand.

"I can't do anything right... life tosses me chances and I just fuck em' all up."

Erik soon realized Peter was no longer talking about his omelette, but something deeper.

"I just wish... you could've d-done this for me when I was still that dumb little kid. I wish for so much to be different. I'd always wanted a d-dad, and when I finally figured out who he was, I learn he'd gone off to kill the president! I-I don't know..."

"W-what?"

"I m-might not be able to outrun germs, but my entire l-life, I've outrun everything. The law, my responsibilities, adulthood... But now, the one time when I finally can't run from anything, out of all of my problems, I gotta face you of all things. N-not the way I thought this would happen..." Peter's words died out as he fell silent.

Erik wasn't sure he'd heard Peter properly. Until something in his mind clicked. Everything he's done up until now: "my mom once knew a guy who could do that..." and "I'm here for my family too..." Oh my god, he thought, I'm... I-I'm Peter's... father? Who else had he been with before his wife... Magda. Oh god.

Erik pulled his hand away from Peter's back. This caused Peter to moan and flip onto his back, staring directly at Erik, eyes cutting straight to his heart like knives.

"W-why'd you stop? It was nice..." Peter admitted shyly.

"I-I need a second, Peter. I'm sorry," Erik sighed as he pushed himself off the mattress.

Peter said nothing as his eyes drifted back to his bedspread. Disappointment lurking behind his bloodshot irises.

Erik walked off to the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He stared up at himself in the mirror, hands gripped tightly around the basin. This couldn't be happening. Not after Nina, not again. Erik was just... terrified. Terrified of the idea of getting close again. Anyone who's ever been a part of Erik's family... had died. His parents, his wife, his daughter; he didn't want Peter to join the list of people the universe was just deemed to kill. He knew that Peter was far from dying, it was a simple fact that the kid couldn't cook and he'd fed himself something underdone. Yet, it was all happening, it was all too fast, and everything felt so damn scary.

He knew, deep down, that this was the truth. It only made sense that the Magda didn't wanna tell her son that his dad was an internationally targeted terrorist that's murdered dozens of people, and this kid had no reasons to lie about it. God... Erik didn't know how to feel, what he should do, but he did know that had a need to comfort Peter, who'd just confessed a secret he'd been hiding for who knows how long, and was now laying alone, probably feeling abandoned again, after pouring his heart out knowing full well it might be shot down.

Whether it was all intentional was yet to be seen. Again, fevers did weird shit.

Erik let out a low sigh and opened the door, finding Peter curled up on himself as best he could, softly whining, mumbling incoherently to himself. Erik stepped over and sat down on the bed again, the entire mattress dipping from his weight.

"I'm sorry, Peter. I am very happy you told me..." Erik was searching for the right words, "the truth."

" 'r welc'm" Peter mumbled as his puffy eyelids slid over his tired brown eyes.

"Is there anything you need me to do for you right now?"

"J'st... stay please. I-It's embarassin', I know, but I just... my mom used to do it..."

"Alright, Peter. I'm not gonna leave, so just try to sleep, okay?"

Peter didn't need to be told twice as his mind and body worked in harmony, finally allowing Peter to be lulled off to the realm of unconsciousness. And although he knew it wasn't necessary, Erik wished to add to the intimacy of this quiet moment, a type of moment so rare and inconstant in both of their lives, so he pushed himself up against the headboard, laying out flat on the bed, and carded his fingers into Peter's silky silver locks. And out of habit, maybe a sort of tendency he'd developed from doing it with Nina, or an obligation to share what he felt Peter deserved, he began to hum his family lullaby, ever so slowly and softly, drowning out any other thing the world wanted to toss at them. Because in that moment... Erik and Peter had found something they'd both been missing for so long, peacefulness and contentment. And for that short night, it was all they needed.

[jq37]

thoughts on this week's ep?

**spoilers for broadway brawl**

***Before we start, I remembered as I was typing this one of the important notes I lost from last week’s recap: Interesting that Christmas seemingly went off without a hitch. I expected Santa to come back into play somehow (like, someone would check on him to make sure Christmas was still on or he’d call them in to help or something) but he hasn’t, at least not yet.***

My guys, my guys, my guys. Was that something or was that something?

I think I am on record as saying that combat is my least favorite part of ttrpgs generally speaking because I’m here for the RP but when a combat episode shines it really freaking shines (see eg: that first combat ep of Bloodkeep where everyone went full Galaxy Brain except for Matt who couldn’t hit a single thing) and this is such a good example. This is easily a top five ep of the season for me, maybe top three so let’s get into it and break down why it was so awesome.

We start right where we left off with Titania and members of her court having come into the theater to beat the tar out of Misty mid-show.

Quick note: At the end of last ep, it was set up so that Misty was thrust on stage right after hearing the mirror was on stage which would place this fight right at the top of Act 2 but at the start of this ep, Brennan seems to indicate that it’s taking place during what would be the closing number. Which would make more sense but imagine you go see a play, the first act is super dope, and then the second act is an insane, minute long fight that’s pretty unconnected to the plot and then a buff, naked, beautiful man tells you the show is over and you should leave. Wild. Anyway.

Pixies with tommy guns in inherently funny.

So one of the things that makes this fight really great is the way it directly ties into the story in a way besides “These bad guys are in our way.” Misty is using this show as a part of her reincarnation spell so if the show is messed up, it fails and she’s on her last life. Brennan has a cool mechanic of making her roll death saves every round at a difficulty lower than her modifier (which is s/t crazy like 11) but that gets harder with damage done to her and performance checks failed by other players who decide to jump on stage. It’s a great way to make the battle feel like it has more personal stakes and it’s my fave original Brennan mechanic since the Family in Flames Sophie’s Choice situation.

(I love that the death save counter is changed for theater comedy/tragedy masks for this. Nice touch.)

Em, Esther, and Wally are also at the fight which is clutch.

Also, Sondheim is specifically here which is an insane detail to add just because.

WILD that no one knows what’s going on with the ritual initially because, as Lou almost does, getting all the civilians out is the smart move and it would COMPLETELY ruin Misty’s plans instantly.

Lou having Kingston take the stairs bc’s he’s 50+ years old and has no time for that nonsense has equal but opposite energy to him doing extra rolls for Fabian to do unnecessary parkour before a simple attack because Fabian’s Like That.

Murph fireblasts the hell out of Titania’s foot soldiers right off the bat from outside of counterspell range which is very cool.

“Give me a performance check for the cockroach.”

“You’re upstaging me bitch?”

Another great thing about this fight is that because of it’s theatrical nature, everyone’s RPing it more than a usual battle ep (or more intensely maybe is what I mean).

Titania hypnotizes Don Confetti and his goons into fighting for her.

“She doesn’t know she’s in a play but she does sing most of her dialogue which is helpful for you.” Titania is just Like That.

Pete drops an erupting earth and drops a sick 37 damage on those same minions Kug got.

I didn’t notice before but yeah, Ally does roll die like a f-ing beyblade champion.

Emily hearing Murph’s low key, offhand comments and cracking up is great.

“Get Sondheim!” (Emily and then Ally: WHAT?!)

Actual living dude Stephen Sondheim being involved in this fight is just so ridiculous and fun and crazy.

We go around to Misty’s turn and she has to beat a 28 (upped from 10) and she fails which feels worse than a normal failed death save somehow.

Lou, in a very good RP move, tells Pete to tell Misty to end the show so she can tell them not to so the group has a valid reason to not evacuate which is a thing they (or at least him and Ricky) would obviously want to do.

Sophie, the madwoman, jumps out of the balcony, grabs a costume, then runs on stage. Emily’s glee at being told that her grabbing the costume will give her advantage is great. She’s always trying to figure out how to make the most of her moves. She is the living embodiment of the concept of method to madness (which is from Hamlet since we’re talking Shakespeare today). 

Ox is constantly dying (Brennan!) but also it’s like, why was he even there before the fight started? I’ve never seen a non-service dog in a theater.

Ricky: Is this part of it?

Oh, forgot to mention that everything that happens on stage is kinda shielded by the Umbral Arcana so everyone watching thinks it’s part of the show, which is a cool plot detail.

Ricky gets fULLY NAKED (Emily, with perfect comic timing: Now do I roll with disadvantage?) and leaps into the fray. He casts Protection from Evil and Good on her which (1) He does by Magic Mike body-rolling on her while he’s naked and considering how much shorter she is that her raises some interesting questions about positioning and (2) is the most clutch use of this spell I’ve seen in a while. It’s a spell I always wanna take as a Paladin because it makes sense character-wise, but I’ve never been able to actually use it because we’re never fighting fiends, fae, or celestial.

Brennan’s dime change change reversal of the critic’s comments on Ricky’s body rolls when Zac re-rolls his 11 makes me glad I never had to face him in a debate team setting.

Ally: What’s Esther’s deal ;)/Brennan: *Esther’s Weapon Stats*

“Your only secret you’ve ever had in your life is that you have a crush on her.”

Wally has a beautiful singing voice and a working knowledge of Midsummer's which is wild.

Lou’s periodic, “My man”’s when Ally/Pete does something cool. He’s very dialed into being Kingston.

Ricky’s aura keeps everyone near him from being charmed and Misty saves everyone else w/ a nat 20 counterspell. Few things in D&D are more satisfying than a well executed counterspell.

Titania trying to get Pete to be her consort or something when he just over the super posh Priya is very funny.

“I mean between me and Sondheim, get Sondheim!”

“DO WE HAVE HOMEWORK TONIGHT?” (“We did have homework.”)

Anyway, Misty has one success now!

Misty tries to use puppet to get Titania to drop her crown and it doesn’t work. Brennan says the crown is Crown of Stars which I looked up and it’s actually a spell, not a physical crown, but I’m assuming he used the mechanical effects of the spell on a physical item.

Brennan doing all these musical/singing bits when he absolutely doesn’t have to. I love it.

I love Ricky and Sophie being the two martial fighting heavy hitters of the group. Like, the two fighters, having the spellcasters’ backs.

I hope the one kung fu fan in the back of the theater never sees another Broadway show again because he’s gonna be so disappointed. 

“I’m just so inspired by that beautiful penis.”

Murph, out of character, verbally acknowledging how insane what they’re doing is. I love when someone pauses in a game of D&D to just recite what’s currently happening out of context so everyone can appreciate how crazy it is. D&D. Gotta love it..

Emily and Siobhan have a quick conversation in the background about whether Sondheim did Les Mis or not (not, that’s Claude-Michel Schönberg) while Brennan and Murph are Ring nonsense.

I also was mildly suspicious of Alyssa so I’m glad Kingston checked her out.

The entire roast of Brennan when he’s selecting D6s is an instantly iconic D20 moment. I can’t do it justice. You kinda just have to see it.

“Someone call Wizards of the Coast!”

Em, Wally, and Alyssa go out when Titania puts out a huge spell that blinds Kug.

“Yummy, yummy, tastes like ass.”

On Misty’s next turn, she rolls a fail which makes it 2 failures to 1 success. Brennan mentions that a nat 1 counts as 2 failures and a nat 20 counts as 2 successes. I’m sure that won’t be relevant later because you can’t foreshadow things when dice rolls are completely random.

Misty fails on puppet again again and Titania goes full Wicked Witch of the West on her and starts Jonesing for those shoessss.

Emily’s Emily(tm) move of the session is doing a flying leap at Titania, hitting her with a stunning strike and having Brennan retract the Box off Doom he was pulling out because she can’t save when she’s stunned. She just plummets out of the sky.

Don Confetti respecting the sacrament of marriage as he goes full Opera ghost and tries to garrote Sophie.

Ricky (still naked) grabs the crown from Titania, tosses it to Misty, and, with some improv and a good charisma roll, makes the show suddenly make sense to the very confused but entertained audience.

I’m so glad that Murph decided to turn into a bear and that they made the Winter’s tale ref. I should have had faith in Brennan and Siobhan, the theater nerds. Exit pursued by a bear y’all.

Lou and Emily bonding over being proud of their die for rolling well when they lend it out for a big roll.

Really wish Pete had wild magic surged in this fight. Just to add that extra bit of chaos. 

With a very good turn (no damage taken, no performances failed) Misty only has to avoid snake eyes to get through this turn. She leapfrogs over that low bar and rolls a nat 20, instantly fulfilling her win condition. At this point, the play is superfluous and Titania is still down.

“Brennan lost and now he knows reddit is gonna eat his ass.”

OK, remember how I said earlier that Misty seems like the kind of character you nudge a little temptation at just to spice things up? Yeah, her killing Titania and getting the crown of the Seelie Fae makes me a liiiitle apprehensive, but we’ll see how that turns out.

“I killed my queen! This is America we don’t have royalty here.”

“Bear, I don’t know who you are, but take me on your back, let me ride on stage.” —creator of West Side Story, Stephen Sondheim

Misty charms the critic at the show to make sure they get a good review which is such a fae thing to do.

Kingston’s clearly not loving attacking Don and Co. post “real fight” what with his whole Do No Harm thing (well, that’s Dr’s but same principle applies I assume) is a good character detail. For that matter, so is Ricky just taking Titania’s crown and not beheading her which he super could have done while she was down but it would have been very incongruous with everything else about him.

Brian “This isn’t Loony Tunes” Murphy throws Sondheim as a projectile weapon at a pixie who snaps the pixie’s neck and then does a monologue at the audience.

I love it when someone rolls low on an insight check and Brennan gives them useless info and then they repeat it in their character’s voice.

4 mins from the end of the ep, Siobhan realizes there are two Perrys in this story for the first time and has a bigger reaction to that than almost everything else in this ep except her nat 20.

Ricky looks for costume faun legs to cover his fully out dick instead of costume pants or even his own pants.

Misty starts glowing with reincarnation energy and she runs into her dressing room for privacy. Also, she still super hasn’t told anyone what’s going on. (ALSO, assuming she’s gonna make the world think she died, it’s gonna be wild for the company of the show to have their leading lady put on the performance of her life and then die on opening night).

“Who am I to refuse a crown when it’s placed so deftly upon my head?”

You know that behind the scenes thing where Brennan is like, “Yeah, I knew Siobhan was gonna steal that book,”? I got some of those vibes during the crown scene.

The implications of what Misty did are gonna be left until next ep but Brennan says something about her creating her own court and it looks like she’s recruiting followers in the promo. IDK how I feel about that (these stories tend to have great power--especially tied to powerful magical items--as a corrupting force) but I am very excited to see how it goes down! See you then!

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E30 (August 14, 2018)

Note: Storms in my area tonight were messing with my internet, so I had a few brief outages to contend with!

Tonight’s guests are Laura Bailey and Travis Willingham AND THE TEENY BABY. Everyone is understandably distracted. Brian: “Let’s just show the baby for an hour.”

Announcements: Electric Beargaloo is up on CR’s YouTube, and a limited-run Honey Heist t-shirt is available on the store!

@critrolestats for this episode: 

Fjord, Jester, and Yasha were missing for 6 days in-game (Laura and Travis were gone for 6 weeks out-of-game).

Jester’s cast Cure Wounds 38 times and Healing Word 6 times. Cure Wounds is her most-cast spell. Laura: “I am so happy about Taliesin making another healer. Me, personally. Inflict Wounds! Inflict Wounds! Inflict Wounds! Spiritual Weapon! Toll the Dead!” Travis: “That’s the mother of our child.”

Travis was definitely intending to distance himself from Grog with Fjord’s more sensitive character. A lot of Fjord’s backstory is based on things that happened in Travis’s own childhood, and while he’d normally want to keep those things protected, he was curious to see what it would feel like to share those with a character, and he’s already feeling a stronger sense of investment in that sense. Laura asks if he likes Fjord more than Grog. Travis: “I can’t really love anyone more than Grog right now, because Grog is bae.” Maybe in fifteen levels... He talks about how expectations shifted toward him in real life after he went through a growth spurt and came back to school as one of the tallest kids in his class: as a parallel to that, Fjord is being perceived as so handsome and charming and a leader after having had exactly the opposite experience through most of his life.

Jester does feel a bit abandoned by the Traveler. “This terrible thing happened, and nothing helped her in those dark moments when she was asking for him.” Laura doesn’t want to get into it too much, since it’ll come into play in the game. Is this the worst thing Jester’s ever experienced? Laura: “Well, yeah. Jester hasn’t done hardly anything.”

Jester doesn’t feel especially guilty, but “she wants everybody to be happy and wants to make other people happy, so in this situation where she’s the least happy she’s ever been, there’s an extreme desire to fix it.”

Emotional healing is much more important to Jester than physical healing.

Fjord didn’t really know how much he might’ve been worth to the rest of the Nein. He thought they might’ve come for Jester or Yasha, but not him. Travis: “Maybe not that far. Just from what he’d seen so far, he thought, ‘Nah, we’re lost, they’re not going to come for us. There’s so much they have to do.’”

Laura wanted to cast Sending (even if it was totally unhelpful), but Matt told her it wasn’t possible in her current situation: they knew how to deal with casters, and she wasn’t able to talk.

Gif of the Week: Jester dancing.

Laura was really bummed not to get to say goodbye to Kiri. They both wished they could’ve made it to the live show. They’re also super disappointed they didn’t get to play with Sumalee and Ashly.

Fjord’s “going to endeavor to keep trying to look out for everybody. He’s just hard on himself for a momentary lapse of perception. He’s going to be more motivated to take care of some shit.”

Laura and Travis realize that Fjord and Jester can both disguise themselves. Travis: “We could bone with anyone and anyone else! We can take suggestions.” Brian: “I’m thinking of some merch ideas.”

Taliesin sent Laura and Travis Caduceus’ art before anyone else. He checked in with Laura to make sure she was okay with another cleric, and she was really happy. Laura: “His domain is totally different from mine. A lot of times with Jester, I couldn’t do a lot of spells in the RP aspect of the game, because I had to save them for in case there was a battle we were playing. There are so many fun just-fuck-with-people spells she has.”

First impressions of Clay? Laura: “I love his hair.” Travis: “The dude abides. I didn’t even feel like an insight check was necessary. He just seemed so positive and nonplussed and go-with-the-flow. I think a little chillness was needed. If he freaks out and goes all rage monster, I will love him even more. He’s gonna eat people.”

Travis and Laura didn’t have any plans going in regarding their reactions to Molly. Laura: “I didn’t expect to get so emotional over it.” They were jumping in and out of watching episode 26, since they had a one-week-old baby at the time. Later in the night, they pulled the episode up and realized Taliesin wasn’t there... and found out from the chat what had happened. “We fucking go have one baby...” Laura: “Molly would still be alive if we were there. I feel like we would’ve told them to run.” Travis: “It was still a good plan, though, honestly. The dice just screwed them.”

Absorbing Summer’s Dance was “most definitely” Fjord’s tribute to Molly and wanting to get him vengeance. It was especially hard because they were roommates the entire time. “Fjord has never really had friends or companions, much less somebody you had to talk to every night before you crashed out. As crazy and different as Molly was from Fjord, he never judged Fjord.” Fjord’s last conversation with Molly was about how the ship exploded and what happened, and it was “the first time Fjord started to trust somebody with that shit, and he got fucking killed.”

Jester’s taking being a cleric much more seriously because she doesn’t want more friends to die, and she’s starting to understand the stakes of what she does. The cleric-related jealousy of Caduceus was a bit of bleed-through. Laura: “I need to remember that I’m the one that’s competitive and Jester is not. Because that definitely is my go-to.” Brian: “Yeah, you in real life are much closer to Vex than to Jester.”

Fanart of the Week: a great combat group-shot!

Both Jester and Fjord’s primary motivations have changed. Travis: “A little less seeking outside answers and knowledge to things that aren’t really going to help.” Laura: “Jester’s primary motivation of just wanting to bring joy has maybe increased even more. We’ll see how far that goes.” Travis really wants Jester to go dark. “See, now I’m sad that I made Jester happy. But I do think as we level up, Jester’s Spiritual Weapon should get more and more badass. A lollipop with spiky sugar on it or something. Rock candy mace.”

Fjord saw the Cloven Crystal reveal as just another sign of the universe telling him, “Fucking get after it, son.”

Matt gave them a five-minute summary of what went down right before the game, and then left it up to them to work out how they’d play it in-game.

Laura thinks the Gentleman’s bad news. Travis: “Oh, you think? He took fuckin’ samples of our blood.” Laura’s pretty sure he’s tied in with the slavers in some way, but Jester hasn’t got enough information to get suspicious in-game.

Fjord was genuinely impressed with Jester’s ability to---to him---sound upbeat even in captivity.

Fjord was starting to become comfortable that maybe the Nein looked to him for some sort of leadership, which he’d only had some brief experience with during his days on ships, but that took a pretty hard hit. Travis: “He’s encouraged to see Caleb as a team player and looking out for others, and that the first thing he tried to do was make us feel better. He expected a fair amount of, ‘You fucked up.’” Laura: “He was really, really nice.”

Laura reveals that Jester’s actually a cannibal serial killer. You... heard it here... first?

Fjord was surprised to see how much growth there was for Beau in the six days they were gone. “She seems mature, responsible. She didn’t punch any kids. It’s awesome.”

Jester thinks Yasha’s wings "look really badass”. She also doesn’t think anyone has as close a tie with their deity as she has with the Traveler (at least, before this recent uncertainty).

It’s tough for Fjord (but not so much Jester) knowing they can’t achieve revenge against Lorenzo, but they’re still hopeful for closure. Fjord would consider a good kill with Molly’s sword to be closure. Travis: “It’ll be taking care of the group, making sure something like that doesn’t happen again.” Jester: “I don’t know what will get it for Jester, honestly.”

Talks Machina: Are We Out Of Time Yet?

Ronin’s class? He’s very loud, so maybe a bard, but he has monk-like kicks. They think he might’ve been learning from Laura’s battle-heavy VO sessions in the womb.

Laura loved the “case closed” moment, even though when she first heard about it, her initial thought was “Nott closed a case without me!?!”

Travis was surprised that nobody else perked up at the description of the Cloven Crystal. Laura: “Nobody cares about your backstory but you.” Dani: “I care!” Travis: “THANK you, Dani!”

It was really hard for them to miss the first episode in the new studio, since it was such a milestone. They also hate that they missed the first PC death.

Sumalee got booked on a new TV show, and mentioned on Twitter that the first thing she got asked was what it was like to be on Critical Role.

They reminisce about Liam’s evil one-shot they played with Ashly and talk about how vicious Travis gets when he’s not on your side. Endgame for Fjord? Chaotic evil, clearly.

At Ren Faire a few years ago, Travis went missing from the group after some drinking. They eventually found him at a rare coin stand, and he showed off an old coin he’d just bought. Brian: “I’m like, ‘How much did it cost?’ And he just looked down.” Travis: “DON’T SAY THE NUMBER.” Brian: “The shame immediately kicked in.” Laura also dropped a dagger in a porta-potty. Brian: “The Ren Faire takes a toll.”

We fade out on Brian walking away while Laura and Travis sing ‘You’ll Be in My Heart’. As you do.

[doomedandstoned]

An Interview with S.C. Atmospheric Doomers Oakskin

~By Shawn Gibson~

Photo by Savannah Juliet Bockus

Continuing our series of interviews of bands in the southern sludge scene, we're now in Columbia, South Carolina visiting with unconventional three-piece OAKSKIN. As they come ever closer to finishing their debut LP, we take a look at the band's origins, inspirations, and aspirations in this one-on-one at last year's Starkfest.

Prey by Oakskin

We are at the Sparrow in North Charleston. You guys played with Mode Low and Midmourner tonight. Damn good show!

Bianca:

Midmourner they just like melt your brain because of how heavy they are!

Yeah, for sure!

Phillip: I'm digging Mode Low, too!

Bianca: Yeah, yeah.

Austin: Kinda krautrock, kinda noisey. I dig it.

Yeah, Paisley Adams the bass player just left, she is in Tripping The Mechanism.

Phillip: Tripping The Mechanism, right. I produced a couple of records of theirs.

Austin: They were supposed to play tonight, but there was something with scheduling.

Yeah, I thought the original flyer said "Tripping The Mechanism." Then it changed and said "to be determined."

Bianca: That was because they had work or something.

The other two guys in the band were here later on in the show.

Phillip: They're a great band, really cool.

The first time I interviewed you guys were at the Radio Room in Greenville, South Carolina, at Starkfest in July. I'd imagine you guys have played a few shows in the span of time since.

Bianca: Only one!

Phillip: Yeah this is our third show.

Wow, third show. Your first show was at Starkfest 2018. Now you have some shirts!

Phillip: Yeah, we're moving up!(laughs)

You got some merch!

Bianca: We've got stickers now!(laughs)

So explain your Oakskin t-shirt.

Bianca: The way our name started was because me and Phil, all three of us were on the porch mulling over what our name would be. We had no fucking idea! It was so difficult. Phil saw an oak tree in my yard and said, "Oak something." I said Oakflesh, because I am a Skyrim nerd. He said that's too brutal because our music isn't that brutal. (laughs) We're not a fucking death metal band! (laughs) Phil said Oakskin. I said, "Fuck yeah!" Later, we found out it was a spell in Dungeons and Dragons. We just winged it with the shirt design. Twenty-sided die on the shirt.

As soon as I saw it, I recognized it was a twenty-sided die.

Phillip: Who didn't play D&D at least once?

Bianca: Or at least knows about it.

Or any role playing game requiring multiple sided dice.

Bianca: D&D is the only game using twenty sided die.

Phillip: I've never seen a shirt with a die on it.

Bianca: The funny thing coming up with the shirt was like, "Let's put people under a spell. Well, why don't we incorporate the whole D&D concept?" It progressed from there.

Austin: It was the easiest decision we've had yet.

Brood by Oakskin

I believe you guys released a song recently. I got the notification from Bandcamp 'cause I'm following you guys and shared it on Facebook.

Phillip: Thank you!

Tell me about this song.

Bianca: The song is called "Brood." The name spawned from my love for cicadas, cause we're from the South. Not to say cicadas aren't from all over the world, really. In the South, in particular, you get used to hearing them. That noise that taunts you!

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHH!!! (laughs)

Bianca: You know it!

Phillip: We open the song with that. That's us sitting on the porch. That song is part of a bunch of songs we are recording for an album. We are taking our time with it. We are not in a rush. We don't have a label or anything.

That's probably the best with no time limits and taking your time.

Phillip: Yeah, no deadlines, so we are going to release it when we are 100% happy.

Organic and letting it flow naturally.

Phillip: We haven't released anything since February because we had these shows. I had that song close to done, mixing it. We decided to put these songs out for these shows. Honestly, what we posted when we first played, they were kind of surprised. They weren't expecting us to be so heavy. So we were like, "Let's put a heavier song out."

Bianca: I love the surprise of us being heavy. (laughs) I do love that, but I think it gives people an idea of where we are going or what we're trying to do.

Phillip: The band has gotten heavier and darker as we've gone along.

I noticed tonight it seemed a little different. There was something like a blast beat in there -- whoa!

Bianca: We all love black metal. We all love death metal. We love different kinds of music. I think over time as we progress, we will incorporate all of our interests in all we do. We all love different kinds of music.

Austin: When we started it was in our kitchen.

Phillip: I don't know if I talked about this last time, but I wrote a keyboard line just for fun. I was thinking about a solo project. Bianca came in and asked, "Do you mind if I sing on this?" Austin came in and said, "Do you mind if I jam to this?" We were all in other bands. I was working on another project.

Bianca: I was in two bands.

Phillip: All of us were working on other projects, but we were like, "This is kind of cool!" The first song we recorded in our kitchen.

Bianca: It literally was recorded in our kitchen.

Austin: I got off work and pulled up to the house and heard the drum machine going. "Damn, someone's partying, someone's jamming! That's some cool shit!" I walked in and it got louder. It's Phillip and Bianca jamming on some stuff.

Bianca: Me and Austin have worked together before in a couple of different projects that really didn't go anywhere, but I knew I wanted to be in a band with him because I love him pretty much.

Phillip: So after that kitchen jam and recording I was like, "That was pretty cool. We'll come out with a name and release it and see if anybody is interested." People were and we are going to jump on this! Now this is her and mine main band. Austin has put 100% in! Since then, we have been writing as a band and it's just naturally gotten heavier and darker. It's just where it's gone we haven't tried to control it.

Bianca: It's darker, but light in some weird way.

Phillip: (laughs)

Bianca: Hear me out!

Phillip: Yeah, I'm going to hear you out on this!

Bianca: The lyrics, if we get them out there, they're not necessarily dark. The lyrical concepts are light and dark, but the music is so fucking heavy!

It is!

Bianca: It's like pushing the concept forward.

Austin: It all sounds like noise to me. (laughs)

Phillip: We haven't focused on a concept. We have focused on writing.

Bianca: Each song has its own entity. When we hear people's input on it, we create its own entity within the song. It makes it unified, to me. We aren't stressed out about it, where it's going. We do what we want to do.

Yellow Light by Oakskin

I think you'll have better songs and a better album when you don't have the pressure or deadlines.

Phillip: I have had to live by deadlines for years, so it's nice to be in a situation where nobody's breathing down my neck about it, you know?

Bianca: Right.

Phillip: It's nice to get it done as it gets done.

Austin: It was two days after Starkfest we had six songs tracked now. We went straight in on the first session and knocked them out -- pow, pow, pow!

Phillip: We have been practicing for months. I was like it's kind of harsh to do that to them, but I was like, "We've been practicing these songs for months, let's go record them after the show! Who knows what work schedules will get in the way? We're tight so let's go knock these out while we're tight." We went in and knocked the songs out. When we get some more, we'll knock those out.

Bianca: We have already started on some other songs, too. I love the direction y'all are going in! I come in after they finalize it, oh it's so good! I fucking love it so much! It's so weird and great. I really love it! I was like, "Can I come in now?" (laughs)

Phillip: (laughs) She was trying to sing over it and we didn't have it done yet!

Bianca: Let me sing on it! (laughs) I get really excited. We all get excited in a really weird way. Mostly we all vibe off each other.

Phillip: I think that most bands get excited about what they're doing or they wouldn't be doing it.

Bianca: Some bands don't get excited, because they get big or whatever reason.

Phillip: I understand that whole second guessing thing. I've been there: "I don't know if anyone else will like this or not?"

Bianca: I feel like bigger bands don't have the time to spend on songs anymore, because they're pushed to put something out. They don't get to enjoy it like they used to.

Austin: Well, if your doing two tours a year...

Bianca: Right.

Phillip: You're touring non-stop. It's hard to even find time to write. Try to write a little bit when you're home. That shit gets really hard! Starting a new band makes it a lot easier.

Bianca: Especially with your connections, it makes it easier for us, genuinely.

Phillip: To a certain degree. In all fairness, we are starting right at the bottom like most bands do. Nobody's been like, "Here ya go!" Play small shows...

...hit the road. Get some merch. Get some gigs.

Phillip: We're starting out like I've started every other band I've started. (laughs) I just love playing music ya know? I love playing at any level. There's certain things like yeah it would be nice to have a budget!(laughs) There are other times it is nice to start fresh and not have any expectations.

Austin: What is interesting to me about this band is Bianca. Oakskin has been together for about a year now.

Phillip: Yeah, about a year.

Austin: Before that, like she said we were rehearsing with some other projects. Until Oakskin she hadn't been in a band. Not trying to...

Bianca: ...no, it's fine. The other two bands I was in didn't play shows. It was just us trying to put music together.

Austin: So we have Bianca who is very new to it.

Bianca: This is my third show ever! Playing live, ever. (laughs)

Austin: I have been doing this fifteen years or so now. Phillip's experienced, he's been doing it for thirty years!

Phillip: I'm sorry, I shouldn't have shushed you. I wanted to see where he was going with this. (laughs)

Austin: Well, for me seeing where you [Bianca] have come from and seeing where you [Phillip] have come from. You [Bianca] are still enthusiastic. Phillip and I get down and shit (laughs), because we are grumpy and run down. You [Bianca] are like, "No, we can do this!"

Phillip: That is true.

Bianca: (laughs)

Phillip: I think one of the funny things is yeah, she is starting fresh and I'm kind of old and grizzled. It's like I see everything ahead of me that's going to go wrong. This is going to wrong! This is going to go wrong! This is going to go wrong!

(laughs)

Bianca: I have bright eyes about everything. Everything is great, ya know? (laughs)

Phillip: It's been fun, I will say that.

Bianca: I love doing music with y'all, for real!

Phillip: It's being done for the right reasons. It's really nice.

Down the road, you guys will release a full-length proper, right?

Phillip: We were going to do an EP and then we were like, "Let's just keep going and make an album."

Bianca: We have at least three more songs to write and we'll have an album.

Nice. Can't wait!

Bianca: It will come out whenever we feel like it!(laughs)

Austin: It will be four gatefold 12" LP's!

It's going to be a double live album! (laughs)

Bianca: (laughs)

Phillip: In reality, it will be a Bandcamp download! (laughs)

It was good catching up with you guys and seeing you live again.

Bianca: Thank you for coming to see us. Genuinely, thank you!

Is there anything that you guys would like to plug or push?

Well it depends on when this comes out!

Bianca: (laughs)

Right on! Fair enough! I still need to put the Starkfest interview out there. Guilty as charged!

Phillip: That was not a dig.

It's fine. I really want to get that one out there.

Austin: We have a show in Atlanta in two days.

Bianca: Yeah we are playing SlaughterQUE.

Hell, yeah. I saw the post for that on Facebook. It's two days right?

Bianca: If you would have liked, commented, and shared you could have won two free tickets!

What? Goddamnit!

Bianca: Only fifteen people did that.

I think I shared it. I saw it.

Phillip: You forgot to like it. (laughs)

Bianca: We had very strict rules about it.

Yeah I was smoking in the boys room when you were talking about the rules! I'll share it, but I'm not going to "like" it. I like those guys and everything! (laughs)

Bianca: (laughs)

Phillip: We have a couple shows coming up.

Austin: Next month.

Bianca: Our video was adorable, because we had a lot of cats. Our cats are very cute, too!

Phillip: If anything it was a statement: "We don't give a fuck!" (laughs)

Bianca: And also we love cats.

Phillip: Love cats, yeah.

Bianca: We love Halloween and cats.

Phillip: That is a true statement. Our house has a ridiculous amount of cats right now.

Oh no!

Bianca: We don't have like thirty or anything. We have four.

If you get over fifteen cats, you have to get the crazy cat lady action figure. (laughs) I'm not sure, I will check the handbook.

Phillip: One of our cats got stuck in a tree.

Bianca: To be fair, this cat's name is Siren. He never shuts up. He is constantly meowing.

Phillip: So Siren gets stuck in a tree. We couldn't find him.

Bianca: The way we found him was because he is so loud, the neighbors behind us heard him.

Phillip: Here's the funny story. The tree the cat got stuck in was at a cat person's house. They had over thirty cats!

Austin: They were rescue cats.

Phillip: Lucky for that cat he was way up there.

Bianca: 25 feet up in the tree!

Phillip: We were calling people to get him out and none of us could afford that.

Bianca: That guy had a tree climbing friend.

Wow!

Bianca: That cat is so lucky! We're so broke. You have to pay the fire department two hundred and fifty dollars to get a cat out of a tree.

Jesus Christ!

Phillip: I had no idea our neighbor had that many cats!

Bianca: That cat does not want to go outside anymore! So anyways we love cats. (laughs)

Well, that will make a great shirt, some Oakskin stickers maybe. Huh?

Phillip: The next shirt will be a cat stuck in an oak tree.

Austin: That's wilder than a cat going up a tree.

Bianca: Austin knows all these southern sayings. Phillip and I are from the south and we don't know what he's saying.

Austin: No one has ever heard all the sayings I know.

I am from the south, as well. I had a book of old southern laws and some of it was ridiculous, some very bizarre. Thanks a lot guys! I appreciate it!

Phillip: Thank you so much!

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[themoonandotherslikeit]

Roll for Initiative

**Art by @thescreechowl**

After a little convincing, Charlie starts up a new tradition in the Men of Letters Bunker. Thursday night Dungeons and Dragons. After playing for an hour, the boys come across a foe that is a little more challenging. Can friendship and sass get them through the carefully made story that Charlie has created, or will they spend ten sessions arguing about if Castiel’s character dumb, or actually pretty creative?

Square Filled: The Bunker

Pairing: DeanxCastiel (ish)

Created for: @spndeanbingo

Rating: T

Tags/Warnings: Nerd Alert! Language, some mild in game violence, fluff, some humor if you think I’m funny. 

Word Count: 3,357

Authors Note:  ALRIGHT Y’ALL! Here it is! This is inspired by a question I got from my good friend, who asked me if Dean ever played DND. I couldn’t stop thinking about it... so this is what I came up with. The most exciting part is that the lovely @thescreechowl did some art for this piece! EEK! Y’all look how stunning this is! Be patient with me, because I’ve never written a straight comedy before. Hope you enjoy :) 

Read on AO3

—————

The sun was low in the sky as the Winchester brothers climb up the hill. Castiel follows behind, keeping up on Deans heels. Injured in a previous battle, Dean holds tightly to his quarterstaff, leaning on it a little more than he should. Sam takes out his map of the area. They hope that once they were over the large hill that they would be able to see their surroundings more clearly. Instead, when they reached the top of the hill they stood face to face with a large, hulking Great Orc. It stared down at the party with large bottom teeth, dripping with thick saliva. “That’s so fucking gross.” Dean cackled, as he took a swig of his beer. “Let me finish.” Charlie hissed, shooting an expression to her friend that sat next to her at the kitchen table in the bunker. “Like I was saying...” The Orc pulled his ax above his head with a scream that was almost unholy. It rages through your bones, like nails on a chalkboard. “What do you do?” She asked eagerly, her palms flat on the table.

“I’m gonna hit it with my staff.” Dean said. “Make an attack roll.” Dean fluttered his eyelashes, adjusted the hood of his black cloak, and dramatically shook his twenty sided dice before letting it go on the table. The group held its breath, to see if Dean could take out the Orc’s kneecap so they could escape. “Aw fuck.” He said, letting his upper body flop on the table in defeat. “Nat one.” 

“You try to bring up your quarterstaff, not considering the fact that you still have an injured leg, and you literally collapse at the Great Orc’s feet. If he were in a laughing mood he would laugh at you, but he isn’t, because he’s an Orc.” Charlie shrugged. “Why is it that I can kill monsters so easily in real life, but in game this fucking piece of plastic can determine my skills?” He picked up the dice, eyeing it with annoyance. “You shouldn’t have put all of your stats in Charisma, Dean.” Sam said, as if it were obvious. Dean turned and glared at his brother. “I was hoping to pick up some hot elf chicks. You’ve gotta have charisma to pick up chicks, Sammy. Not that you’d know.” “I do not understand this game.” Cas huffed. “Okay, nerds. What are you going to do? Focus.” Charlie said, leaning into the table. She was eager to move on with the encounter. “What do I know about Orc’s?” Sam asked, cheerfully. “Do a history check.” Sam rolled the dice gently onto the table before sighing. “Five.” “You know plenty about regular Orc’s but this is a Great Orc, Sam. It’s fucking great. You don’t know squat.” Charlie’s eyes flickered to Castiel. She smiled widely. “What about you, Cas?” Castiel met Charlie’s eyes seriously. “I would like to smite it with my angelic grace.” The group turned their attention to Cas. “Uh, that’s nice, Cas, but your character is a cat so you don’t exactly have that ability.” Cas frowned, looking down, his cat ears slipping a bit at the angle of his head. “I would like to see the rules again.” He complained. “Why did you make your character a cat, Cas? It doesn’t even have any magical abilities.” Sam asked with genuine curiosity.

Cas sat up a little straighter, prepared to argue his case. “Felines have many useful abilities, Sam.” “They just make me sneeze.” Dean complained. “That is useful ability number one! If your enemy is sneezing they are incapacitated and there for, unable to see for a moment. It is the perfect time to strike.” Charlie raised an eyebrow. Cas cleared his throat. “I would like to induce an allergy attack.” “Uh... roll for attack.” Castiel gave the guys a deadpan expression as he shook his dice in his fist before letting it go. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Dean groaned. “That would be a natural twenty.” Cas said flippantly. “Christ.” “Cas rubs up against his leg and he falls into a sneezing fit. His body racked with sneezes.” She eyed Dean. “And since you’re so close to him when he pulls his head back for a huge sneeze, a elastic, wet, green droplet of snot drips down and lands right between your eyes.”

“God this thing is so fucking gross!” Dean complained.

“What are you doing now?” Charlie asked.

“We should run.” Sam nodded. “Easy for you to say! My leg is busted up.” Dean complained, wiping the fake snot off his face. “I can run very fast as a cat.” Castiel said with a grin. “Perhaps you picked the wrong race.” “I think we hurt his feelings.” Sam said, eyeing Cas. “Make a decision, boys!” Charlie urged them on, trying to keep the pace. “Fine, let’s run.” Dean grumbled.

“Make a dex roll, Dean.” Charlie’s eyes narrowed at him.

Dean whispered profanities under his breath and tossed his dice. It rolled and bounced and fell to the ground. Dean leaped out of his chair and got on his hands and knees to view the number. By some grace of God he rolled a nineteen. “Fuck yes! Finally!”

“You manage to hobble away.” Charlie put her hands together.

“Alright, I say we head to the city to see if we can get Dean some medical attention.” Sam turned to his brother and adds, “so try not to die before we get there.”

“Just use a spell to heal me, Sammy. Come on, you have the spell slots.”

“Yeah, no way in Hell, man.” Sam said, dismissively. “I’m not wasting my spell slots to heal you. Being in a group with you means we will definitely be in a fight again soon. We are going to need those spell slots.”

“We’re definitely going to need those spell slots.” Dean mumbled in annoyance.

“Let’s go.” Sam said turning to Charlie. “Okay, we will head to the city.”

Charlie nodded and flipped through a few papers behind her block. She eyed the three men in front of her with a quirked eyebrow. She pushed a red curl out of her eye and smirked. Dean had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well.

“Dungeons and dragons? You’ve got to be kidding me?” Dean turned to Charlie, with his arms crossed.

“I’m not.” Charlie said, offended. “It’s fun, Dean. You seriously never played as a kid?”

“I didn’t exactly have a normal childhood.” He laughed. “Who would I have played with? Sammy?”

She shrugged. “I’m not going to say I had a million friends growing up either. Nerds always find a way.”

“Fine, I’ll bite. What’s the deal with the dungeons game? Just a bunch of geeks sitting around, not having sex, yeah?”

Charlie snorted and rolled her eyes. “Come on, Dean, you’re not that simple. Open up your big gorilla brain, and I think you’ll like what you hear. Imagine this… you’re in a magical land. Lush, green, beautiful. You’re a hero, or a villain, depending on your schtick. You and a group of companions are on a quest, fighting monsters along the way. No one gets hurt, not really, and everything is based on luck and skill. It’s a chess board that you can manipulate. In a world that I create for you. There are swords, and magic. Elves, wizards, dragons…”

Dean raised an eyebrow. He could almost picture it. He’d done nerdy things with Charlie before, they frequently went to Renaissance festivals together, and if he was honest this didn’t seem that different. “So, what, I’m a wizard Charlie?”

Charlie shrugged and tossed a book to Dean. “Or something cooler.” She raised an eyebrow. “But I always appreciate a good Harry Potter reference.”

“You’ve made your way to the city after half a day of walking. Dean you’re really fucking tired, and your leg is aching, at best. The city is a port town, by the shore. All the typical buildings are involved. There’s a blacksmith, a tavern, a few places of worship.”

“Anywhere to get some healing?”

Charlie shrugged and Dean groaned in response. “I guess I’ll go to the tavern and see what I can drum up.”

“I’d also like to go to the tavern to procure a place to sleep tonight.” Sam nodded.

The three looked to Cas, who had been surprisingly quiet since the Orc attack. “I would like to find a home to take me in, since my companions don’t appreciate me.”

“Cas, come on.” Dean groaned. “Just come to the tavern with us.”

“No.”

“What? You want some catnip or something? Don’t be so difficult.”

“I’m not going, Dean.”

“I want to make him come.” He said to Charlie. “He’s a cat, surely I can convince him.”

Charlie shrugged. “Roll an animal handling.”

Dean nodded, feeling like his luck was getting better. He took his dice in his hands and rolled them in his fingers. His eyes never left Castiel’s. They were challenging the angel.

He let the dice go. It rolled onto the table, but Dean’s eyes never left Cas’. “I own you, cat.”

“No, you don’t.” Sam snorted. “You rolled a three.”

“Yeah, you can’t seriously think that you can bag a cat, Dean. It’s not that easy.” Charlie said with a laugh. “Cas, obviously it doesn’t work.”

“I purr.” Cas grinned at Dean and gave him a wink.

“Christ.” Dean rubbed his face. “Can we call a truce?”

“A truce?” Cas raised an eyebrow. “Pray tell, why should I do that?”

“Because we are supposed to be a team, man. Me, you, and Sammy.”

Cas tapped his chin and looked at Sam. “I have no problem with Sam.”

“Of course you don’t.”

The angel shrugged. “Maybe I just expect less from him.”

“Rude!” Sam groaned. “I’d like to attempt to pet Cas, to show him that I care.”

“Cas? Are you going to let him pet you?” Charlie asked, eyeing the angel.

Cas narrowed his eyes, like he was really thinking it through. “I will allow it.”

“I’m going to scratch under your chin.”

“I will allow you to carry me, if you wish.”

“Sure, man. I’ll carry you. Want to go to the tavern?”

“If I can get fish there, I will allow you to take me there.”

“The fuck?” Dean complained.

“Sam has a way with felines that you don’t, Dean.” Castiel said flippantly.

“Of fucking course he does.”

“Are you jealous?” Charlie asked, her eyes flickering to Dean.

“Jealous of Sammy? Please. I want to go to the tavern to pick up elf chicks.” He crossed his arms.

Charlie nodded. “After looking around for a bit you locate a tavern.”

“I want a beer.”

“Two silver pieces.” Charlie spouts, in a ridiculous old world accent.

Dean sorts in response and nods. “Yeah, okay. I want to scope for Elf chicks.”

“Roll an investigation.”

“That’s a fifteen.” Dean said proudly, when his dice landed on the table.

“There are a pair of female elves in the corner of the bar.”

“Hell yeah, I’m approaching.”

“Great, pause on that.” Charlie said, turning her attention back to Sam and Castiel. “Alright boys, what’s going on in your neck of the woods?”

“I would like to locate sustenance.” Castiel said simply.

“I want to research local lore, to see if there’s anything with this town.”

“Sam you’re supposed to be playing a character, not just yourself.” Dean complained.

“Yeah, coming from you. You’re in a bar trying to pick up chicks. Where’s the role play there?”

“You make a valid point.” Dean said quietly.

“Sam, can you take me to the tavern for the fish you promised?” Castiel questioned.

“Sure, buddy.” Sam turned to Charlie. “We go into the tavern. I’ll put Cas down so he can check the place out.”

“I’d like to go to the bar to try to purr, and meow until I get food.”

“I’ll allow it.” Charlie shrugged.

“I jump up on the bar and meow at the bartender.”

“Roll a persuasion.”

“That’s an eighteen.”

“Without asking what you need, he hands you a fish that he’d been cooking for another table.” Charlie said with a grin.

“I will eat it.”

“Dean back to you.”

“I want to flirt with the elves.”

Charlie laughed. “Yeah, okay. There are two female elves in the corner. What exactly are you doing to flirt?”

“I want to tell a story about the orc fight, where I was a real badass.”

Charlie narrowed her eyes. “So you want to lie to these poor girls to get them into bed?”

“Basically.”

“Roll performance, with disadvantage.”

“Disadvantage?” Dean complained.

“For being a pig.”

“Fair enough.” Dean rolled his dice twice, and took the lower of the two rolls, which just so happened to be a twenty-two with modifiers.

“You lucky bastard.” Charlie sighed. “The women love your story. They comment on how strong you are and how brave. They’re basically swooning.” She looked almost ill as she described it.

“Excellent.” Dean grinned and cleared his throat. “Ladies, may I escort you both to my room?”

“Oh, roll two persuasions. One for each girl.”

Dean rolled his eyes and rolled. He managed another twenty and a nineteen. “Ladies, let’s go upstairs. I’ll take real good care of you.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“You are going to let him get away with this, Charlie?”

“It does seem a little unfeminist.” Sam agreed.

“I’m at the mercy of his rolls.” She said, defeated.

“I would like to go to Dean and the females.” Cas said, suddenly.

“Go ahead, Cas. Do your thing.”

“I am going to go up to Deans room and scratch on the door.”

Charlie rolls a dice behind her block. “One of the girls is afraid of the scratching and asks Dean to check it out.”

Dean groaned. “Fine. I’ll check on the door. I open it.”

“I walk right in.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m going to jump on the bed and hiss and swipe at the girls.”

Charlie rolled twice. “They’re screaming.”

“I want to really growl and scare them.” Cas said insistently.

“Ladies! Relax! I’ll get him out of here!” Dean said eagerly, with his hands up in defense.

“Dean is this your pet?” Charlie said in a valley girl voice, twisting her fingers in her curls.

“No, he is most certainly not my pet.”

“Oh my god! So you just let a stray feral cat in here?!” Charlie exclaimed.

“No… that isn’t what I said!”

“I am hissing and actively approaching the girls.” Castiel said with a mischievous grin.

“Roll intimidation!” Charlie said.

Castiel dramatically rolled the dice and let it hit the table. Nat twenty. Sam cheered, rising to his feet. “Fuck yes! Cas what is your luck, dude?”

“The two girls run screaming out of the room.” Charlie said with a grin.

Dean clenched his fists on the table and turned to the angel. “What the fuck, dude?”

“I want to curl up on Deans pillow and go to sleep.”

“The fuck you are.” Dean growled in annoyance. “I’m throwing both pillows on the floor. Now focus on my face. What. The. Flying. Fuck. Was. That. About?!”

Castiel shrugs and takes a drink from his beer, avoiding Dean’s eyes.

“No, no, no. We aren’t doing that shit. You’re really so mad that I insulted your character that you’re going to cock block me?”

“I am saving those women.” Cas said dramatically, with his hand on his chest.

“Saving them from what?”

“Disappointment?” Sam snarked, swallowing a laugh.

“I’m not talking to you.” Dean snapped with annoyance. He turned back to the angel. “Seriously.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dean, we are on a quest! We have enemies to fight, and you’re worried about bedding women! Your priorities are not right.” Castiel mirrored Dean by crossing his own arms.

“You didn’t seem too concerned with the quest when you were snuggling up to Sam!” Dean stood up, and poked Castiel’s chest.

The angel rose to his feet almost immediately. “Not like you would ever hold me, Dean!”

“You’re a cat, Cas! I’m allergic!”

“You’re not allergic in game!”

The two were standing an inch from each other now. Breathing heavily. Their chests rose and fell. Charlie and Sam sat in intense suspense, watching the two. Charlie gripped her block in front of her, almost hiding, while Sam sat with his mouth hanging loose. Neither Cas or Dean noticed, though, they were in a world of their own. In Deans bedroom, in a Tavern, in a world that Charlie made up.

“Sorry that I want to be authentic!” Dean groaned, putting up his hood from his cape.

“Stop hiding from me, you coward!” Cas said, pushing the hood back down. He grabbed Deans face roughly in his hands, causing Deans green eyes to widen in surprise. Cas wasn’t rough with him. He was known to the the gentle one in the bunker.

“I’m not hiding, Cas.”

“Of course you are.” Castiel’s voice was low as his eyes landed on Dean’s lips, then flickered up to his eyes. “You always have been.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue with the accusation, but he couldn’t bring the words to his lips. He couldn’t say anything real with Cas that close. “God, get rid of these fucking things.” Dean grabbed the fabric cat ears off Castiel’s head and tossed them away. “You idiot.” Dean exhaled, putting a hand on each of Cas’ arms. “You fucking dumbass.”

“Yeah just keep insulting me.” Cas challenged. “It’s safer that way, right?”

“Why don’t you want me hooking up?”

“I don’t like you taking women home after hunts.”

“Why?”

“Because.” Cas hissed. “I want you to be with me after hunts.”

Dean frowned, looking confused. “But I am with you after hunts.”

“Not… not like that.”

It was like a light went off in Deans mind. Of course. It was all so clear, but Cas couldn’t possibly mean what it sounded like. Right? He didn’t want him to have sex with women because he… Christ.

“I don’t understand… So you…” Dean began, but before he could finish Castiel crashed into him. His lips pressed to Deans urgently, perhaps just to get him to shut the fuck up.

If that was his intention, boy did it work.

Dean melted against him, pulling Castiel close to him, chest to chest. Cas’ thumbs ran across Deans cheekbone, and he could feel Dean smile against his lips. He pulled away a bit and pressed his forehead to Deans. “Do you understand now?”

Dean was flushed, his cheeks pink. “I don’t know. Think you can explain it again?” A grin grew on his lips, exposing a perfect row of teeth. It was a challenge, one Cas was perfectly willing to meet.

“Fucking finally!” Sam cheered, his fist pumping in the air.

“I uh… think this is a great place to end the session.” Charlie said from behind her block, peeking at the two boys. She felt she was intruding, but she couldn’t hide her huge grin. “Sam, we should… uh… discuss some lore, somewhere else.”

“What?” Sam glanced at Charlie, and then at the two men that were still wrapped in an embrace. “Right, uh, lore… books. Sure. We will be back later.”

Cas and Dean stared at each other. “So if this is always going to happen during this game, I think we may have to let Charlie move in, because I’m going to have to play every day.” Dean said softly.

“Does that mean you’ll hold me, Dean?” Cas asked with a smirk. “Even if I’m a cat?”

“Buddy, I’ll hold you no matter what you are.”

Dean kissed him then. He kissed him like they’d do it a thousand times again, like he was made to kiss Castiel. Perhaps it was under the disguise of the game that cracked Dean open like an egg, or perhaps it was Cas’ jealousy for fictional characters, but it was the start of something. It was the start of everything.

[hoodoo12]

Party (part 2 of 2)

I would like everyone to know that the characters mentioned and the discussions regarding Dungeons and Dragons are based on yours truly and some of the crazy campaigns I’ve played.

Mature SFW, due to language and suggestive adult banter. 

⁂

Diligence ducked down even further, while Cop, whose back had been to the window Lust indicated, spun around. Wrath knocked his chair over in his haste to join him--afterwards, you were grateful he didn’t just vault over the table--and you got to your feet as well.

“Jesus christ!” Wrath shouted, peering through the curtains. “It’s fucking Envy, skulking around out there!”

You hurried to the door while everyone else began collecting themselves and righting everything.

“Envy!” you said, holding the door open. “You gave everyone a heart attack!”

“I’m sorry . . .” he whimpered, from the far end of the porch. “I just . . . you were all having such a-such a good time, and I wanted to see it . . . I wish I  . . .”

As his voice trailed off, you said, “Come in, okay? You hanging around out here is creepy.”

“I-I-I . . . I wish . . .” he repeated, and slunk forward.

He was wearing his human-suit, you saw, which made him look a little more Rick-like. You were internally grateful for that, even if the stitches looked a bit pulled and stretched tight.

“Come on,” you offered. “There’s stuff to eat and drink, and there’s one more seat available--”

“I don’t want to play,” he disagreed. “I just want to-to-to sit and pretend that all you are my friends, and this is my party, and you’re having a good time . . .”

“Sure, sure,” you consoled him as you ushered him in so you could shut the door again.

Envy continued to slink around the perimeter of the room, gazing wistfully at everything and declining to sit down, even though there was an empty chair between Diligence and Cop. He ended up in the living room on the couch, sinking into the cushions while watching everyone in that forlorn and plaintive way of his. You were all used to his behavior and went back to actually starting tonight’s session.

It wasn’t long into it--everyone finally decided to head back into the village to purchase more supplies; Wrath hoped out loud there would be hobgoblins or orcs that would ambush their group as they went through the forests--before the timer on the oven went off.

A potential intruder didn’t move Gluttony, but the potential of brownies did. The massive Rick pushed his chair back, shaking the table, making all the figures Diligence had set out so carefully tumble over. “Hey!”

Gluttony didn’t care about that, but the rest of the table did, so you quickly jumped up to keep the whole situation from disintegrating.

“I’ll go get the brownies, okay, Glut?” you said, to placate everyone. “Just stay here!”

Lust popped up to help, saying, “Just keep walking through those woods, darlings! Imagine that the two bards are serenading you! Officer Sanchez, my bard is checking out your Paladin’s ass in that skin tight leather he likes to wear!”

Cop groaned but Lust blew him a kiss and followed you into the kitchen. He grabbed the bottle of wine the Officer had brought and wine glass, and filled it almost full before hopping up and sitting on the counter while you opened the oven door and tested the baked goods for doneness. Finding some oven mitts after a second’s rummaging in a drawer, you removed the two pans of brownies that’d been baking.

“I saw how you were looking at Patrick, and touching his lower back when he arrived? That’s bold . . .” he teased, taking a sip of his wine and watching you slyly.

“Patrick?” “Patience Rick, silly! Pat. Rick. Isn’t that clever?”

You hummed a non-committal answer and bumped the oven door shut with a hip, setting the hot pans on the stovetop.

Lust eyed you. “And you let him use your die! That’s some serious stuff, right there--one of your cardinal rules is that no DM touches your dice!”

You shrugged like it was no big thing, even though in previous sessions you’d been extremely vocal and made it very clear you had some superstitions about Dungeon Masters touching your dice. You defended your actions by saying, “Glut took everyone’s dice! He needed one for a moment!”

“You should totally fuck him.”

“Lust, what?! Shh!” you exclaimed, scandalized.

No one from the other room asked what was going on, or seemed to hear, which you thought was good.

“Shut up!” you hissed at him. “What if he hears you?”

“So you do want to fuck him?” Lust asked, licking his lower lip.

You tried to maintain a neutral, deadpan expression as you replied, “That is none of your business.”

“Hmmm,” the Sin Rick responded. “Baby, I am pretty sure it is.”

You rolled your eyes and found a plastic spatula to cut one pan of brownies. “What about you?” you asked, deflecting. “You grabbed Cop’s crotch! You know he has a girlfriend, right?”

Lust laughed low in his throat and crossed his legs. There was a faint whisper as his stockings rubbed together.  “You know I think everybody should fuck, right? I seriously thought this whole D&D thing was just a front for a big ol’ orgy at first. Did you know that?”

You hadn’t.

“Huh. Well, anyway--you should totally jump on his dick. He doesn’t wear any underwear, so it’d be quick and easy to--”

“Are the brownies done?!” Gluttony bellowed from the other room.

“Yes! We’ll be right in!” you called back. To Lust you said, “How do you know he doesn’t wear underwear--you know what? Never mind that. You just keep your lips zipped about what you just said. Okay? Not. One. Word.” Lust cocked one plucked eyebrow. 

“What if I let your bard sleep around with the next NPC that shows any interest? Okay? I didn’t mean to take that goatherd, Patience just escalated the conversation we were having when I went to his farm to buy a goat . . .”

Lust let the weight of those words--that Patience himself created an encounter between a character he was playing and yours, resulting in an adult sleepover--sink into you, to prove his point. You shook your head and repeated your offer to let his bard have the choice of next sexual encounter in exchange for his silence.

“I suppose,” Lust sighed dramatically, and pushed himself down from the counter. He took your waist and rocked his pelvis into you as you juggled the pans to take them back to the other room, and leaned down closely to whisper in your ear, “Patrick’s got a different body type than me, but this’d be a good position, wouldn’t it?”

You giggled with embarrassment and moved out of the hedonistic Sin’s grasp. “Knock it off, Lust!”

“Just helping to stoke that fire, baby,” he replied saucily.

As you expected, he didn’t help carry anything except his own wine glass back to the group.

You set one full pan of brownies on a tray table beside Gluttony and told everyone else the pan you cut was for them.

Finally, finally, the game started up in earnest. It was the same as every other time the group got together: decisions on what to do next, ragging on each other’s characters, ridiculous ideas for getting out of scrapes, barely organized chaos when it came to encounters, lots of bickering and laughing. Everyone ate and drank too much, thanks to Gluttony’s influence. Diligence kept things moving along and was the first to answer any questions about the rules. He also helped with adding modifiers to any dice rolls.

At one point Cop’s Paladin was coerced into joining an evil cult, forcing a realignment that pissed him off and everyone else to yell at him out of character for making stupid decisions.

Patience did some quick recalculations and told Cop his character needed to do some major atonements before his god would grant absolution and allow his Paladin to have lawful good alignment again. The rest of the group decided to storm the tower he was in, with the pretense if they all destroyed the cult that would be a good first step in helping get him back on the right track.

It took several hours and multiple combat encounters--plus some incredible luck with the dice--to pull it off, but you all managed to literally blow the cult’s tower up and defeat all its members.

During the climax of the battle, when it wasn’t a sure thing that everyone in the party would get out of the crumbling tower on time, Envy snuck in and sat at the table between Cop and Dil, as if he were part of the group.

Even though the whole thing was done on paper and through collaborative role-playing, it was exhausting.

At the end, Patience sat back in his chair and told you all there was no way any of that should have worked.

You all took his incredulous, mild amazement as praise.

“That’s why you’re the best DM!” you complimented him. “You just roll with whatever crazy thing we decide to do!”

Lust pinched your thigh under the table and smirked. You knew he loved that it looked like you were flirting, but you ignored it.

Diligence suddenly realized the time.

“Oh crap--I’ve gotta go! I picked up an extra shift and have to be at work at six tomorrow morning. Why did we start so late? Why did we get together on a Saturday?!”

He stood up, and that was everyone’s cue that this get together was over. Dil started fretting that he should help clean up, but he really needed to run, but it wasn’t right that everyone pitched in except him, but he wasn’t going to get enough sleep if he didn’t go--

Laughing and insisting it was all right that he didn’t help, you helped guide him out the door. Cop mentioned that he needed to go too, and offered to give Dil a police escort so he could get home sooner, if that made him feel better.

Gluttony left the actual clean up to everyone else and took care of the leftover snacks and drinks. He and Wrath left next; Glut suggested a nightcap at the local dive bar and his fellow Sin Rick didn’t disagree. Envy followed you around like a lost dog as you gathered all the dirty dishes and took them into the kitchen. He didn’t help--you didn’t expect him to--and eventually Lust wandered in as well, and found him crouched in a corner, watching you.

“V, come on! Stop being creepy, okay? It’d be different if you were doing some voyeuristic thing, but there’s nothing going on here--yet!--so you’re just making things awkward!” he chided as he marched over and grabbed Envy by the upper arm.

“I didn’t mean to--what did you mean, yet? I don’t mean to b-b-be creepy, I just like to see a n-normal life, like hers--” Envy tried to explain.

“Who’s making things awkward?” you said pointedly to Lust at the same time.

He twittered and winked. “Patience is the last one here, so . . .”

“We’re still here,” Envy pointed out.

“Nope, V-sweetie, we’re showing ourselves out,” Lust replied, hauling him up. To you he said, “Baby, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do--which means the sky’s the limit!”

You groaned and followed them to the front door. Patience was finishing organizing the last of the player’s manuals for you and his notes. Lust made a rudely suggestive gesture involving his hand and mouth behind the Virtue Rick’s back for your benefit. You flipped him off, to which he replied aloud,

“That is a fine option too, baby!”

Patience turned, and Lust smiled at him. “Excellent management of our campaign, as always, Patrick! I think we got lucky tonight. Maybe you will too!”

While you felt a blush rise on your cheeks, Patience looked puzzled. Lust giggled and kissed him on one cheek, then the other, then made his exit with Envy reluctantly in tow. The stitched Sin Rick kept his eyes on you and Patience as long as he could, before the door came between him and you.

“Thanks for hosting,” Patience said. 

“Thanks for coming over,” you replied. “You really are the only one who has, ahem, the patience for all the craziness this party does.”

He gave you a smirk, like that pun was something he heard all the time. “It does seem like most of the ideas the party comes up with shouldn’t actually work. And most of the plans I have for different sessions take hard right turns. So I keep things flexible since you all fly by the seat of your pants.”

You laughed and he laughed with you. There was a little discussion about when the group was going to get together again as Patience started for the door. You followed him, your hand straying to his lower back again. You blushed horribly, imagining what Lust would say, but Patience didn’t mention it. You wished him good night, and locked the door behind him after he left. 

The house was quiet now. There were still some things left to put away, but you decided it could wait until morning. It’d been a fun night playing Dungeons and Dragons, as always. No matter what Lust suggested, you were content with that, for now. 

fin!