#minxy answers

[minxyone93]

I'm literally crying omg thank you 🥺🙏

this is from chapter 7(I think?) of How Long? by MinxyOne93

lol damn I relate to these fuckers way too much- (especially Cas)

@minxyone93 how dare you write them so well

[utilitycaster]

I don't know if you are doing controversial opinions still, but I've needed to get this one off my chest for a while. I think Dani is an excellent lore keeper for CR, but her intense involvement in CR twitter actively hinders some 4SD conversations, especially around relationships and shipping.

I am (I am still about half an hour out from my home train stop) and. yes but I would not put this entirely on her. Like, off the top of my head, the idea of "Did she know?" being someone other than Liliana or making a big deal of Relvin not specifically saying "I love you" is, and I say this as someone who not only watched the entirety of the original Gossip Girl but read the TV Without Pity summaries religiously and who is under no illusion that Critical Role is highbrow, Gossip Girl Level analysis, and those should not have made it to 4SD.

However, I also have felt that in general, even with the cast cutting down DRAMATICALLY on their responsiveness on Twitter (which is a good thing to be clear) CR needs much, much stronger vetting of their questions. Almost every panel has some question that boils down to "if the circumstances were wildly different would my ship have happened"; there was that one person that basically asked Liam to reveal his mental health diagnoses; I find that a lot of the fireside chats fail to separate out "things only this person can answer" and "questions you could probably find on a corgi/DMing/Burning Man subreddit in five seconds". And I am fairly confident that is a lot of stuff well outside Dani's purview. Obviously 4SD would benefit by treating Black Heart Purple Heart Twitter as the bucket of brain-melting solvent fumes it is, but there's a larger conversation to be had of like, how does one exist as a crew member and a fan of the show with one's own preferences while also serving the entire fandom, not just the ones who don't know how to act and therefore cross the most boundaries.

[harleyquinnzelz]

Can you PLEASE tell me more about Minxie? I already love her so much. Like, I love seeing more people with OPLA OCs in general, but if I read that correctly, she's a CAT and I just... I... Cats... Cat people... my biggest weakness... (Also, please teach me how you made that poster, I need to make something like that for my own OC)

Yes I can absolutely tell you more about my girl!

She's a witch with no actual like... mentor for magic so everything she's learned so far is what she's struggled through on her own. The most reliable magical ability she has though, is the ability to turn into a cat. It is surprisingly useful for when Zoro gets himself into fights as Minxie and Zoro have been travelling together for some time before the events of the show.

Minxie isn't actually even her real name. It's Marina Snow and she was raised by her father after he took her from her mother when she was a little girl, as her father had no other children and, as he was a significant political figure, he needed an heir of sorts. Minxie doesn't remember her mother but knows that her magic must have come from her and she thinks that the name Minxie must have been what her mother called her. She ended up in a not so chill arrang3d marriage until a certain Pirate Hunter arrived on her island to collect a bounty and she highkey ran away from him. So yeah, there may be a very substantial reward out there for anyone willing to return Minxie to her father and husband.

I don't want to reveal too many spoilers but uh... I love her to death and I am absolute trash for Minxie x Zoro!

Also I would be more than happy to help you with a character poster but fair warning, I kind of stumbled my way through mine and what you see is the result of hours of me staring at photoshop essentially whispering to myself 'What the fuck?' Lol. But I can try to help through dms for sure!!!

[peach-the-owl]

*Emerges from the depths of the void, drops post* See ya in another few months… maybe… *Crawls back into the void*

Cuddles 2.0

Vox Machina & Child!Reader (Kids Machina)

Pike

You could be a nervous bean more often than you’d like to admit, you loved cuddles but never know when to ask for some. Luckily Pike knows how to read your body language and is more than happy to offer cuddles with you when things aren’t crazy. With time you get braver at asking yourself but it’s always good to know that Pike can always tell when you need one.

Pike’s skill to read your emotions works effectively well on those days where you feel down and lonely, especially when you two are away from the rest of the group to fulfil your duties to Sarenrae. Pike will start by asking if you’re okay, try as you might sometime you just can’t lie to her and she’ll warmly offer to cuddle with you until you feel better.

Keyleth

Cuddles with Keyleth are the best especially when she can wild shape herself into different animals you can snuggle against. You especially love cuddling against her Minxie form, feeling the soft fur under you as you snuggle up to her while she curls around you protectively.

While Keyleth has had her own share of down days, she can’t stand to see the downtrodden look on your face when your mood is low. She’ll scoop you up and hold you close, telling you stories or even singing to an old lullaby she remembers her mother singing to her when she was little. You relax into her after a while as you listen to her and she can’t help feel some pride at how much you trust and depend on her.

Vex

You liked cuddles but didn’t always show it seeing as Vex wasn’t always one for cuddling, thankfully Trinket was. The bear always happy and willing to give you snuggles when Vex was busy. Sometimes while you’re cuddling Trinket, Vex will sneak in and join in, making the cuddle pile extra special.

On days where your condition strongly affects you and you’re feeling useless, Vex will be there to reassure you and hold you in her embrace for as long as you need, telling you over and over that you’re not useless and that she’s happy you’re here with her. Her reassuring words to you always help lift your spirits more and make the bad days more bearable.

Vax

Vax likes his time alone, you understand this, you like your alone time too, but sharing some cuddles every now and again is always nice. The only few times you’ve interrupted his alone time for snuggles are the times he’s in an extra standoffish and distant mood, wanting to lift his mood, it always works or at least helps him feel better.

When you’re the one in a down and distant mood Vax will give you some space at first, give you time to come to him. You eventually do but don’t say anything, letting him talk to you, not about what the issue is, no he won’t push you for that, he’ll sit with you and talk about what he did or how he outwitted Grog in their latest “game”. Slowly but surely making you feel better, while he feels a sense of pride for perking you up again.

Grog

You’re a small, fragile child who likes sharing hugs, he’s a large, powerful goliath who could snap you like a twig if he’s not careful. Thankfully, for both of you, Gorg’s had lots of practice with handling smaller beings

Grog can have a hard time understanding feelings. Especially when you get stubborn and say you’re fine, he accepts that answer until one of the others tells him that you’re 100% not fine. He’s confused, you said you were fine but you were lying? Why would you do that? He doesn’t know exactly what to do so he’ll just scoop you up and keep you close to him until you’re actually feeling better.

Percy

Percy isn’t a touchy feely man always busy, always tinkering. Being his apprentice you get to stay close to him so you could deal with not getting cuddles or hugs. Occasionally when a project of your own goes well and tests successfully he’ll proudly ruffle your hair, it wasn’t much but you’ll take what you can get.

Some days you just don’t feel motivated or worthy of being Percy’s apprentice. When he notices, and he will notice, you’re not in the workshop with him he will drop everything to find you. When he locates where you’re hiding he’ll just talk to help you get your mind off of your troubles and doubts because he knows better then anyone that you are worthy and he couldn’t have asked for a better apprentice.

Scanlan

He’s tried not to get close to you, didn’t want to give the wrong message to whoever he’s flirting with but after that time you called him dad he’s become more open to it, if only a little bit. Scanlan hadn’t realized just how much he’d enjoy something as simple as a hug, sure he’s spent the night with many women, but that pales in comparison to the genuine parental connection he felt when you’d hug him.

When you’d feel sad or upset about something he’s there to cheer you up, with a joke, story or song, anything to see your cheery face again. To the rest of the team’s shock he’s even brushed off ladies who openly tried flirting with him because he saw your watery eyes and pouting expression.

[the-french-belphegor]

Me, late October, sick as a dog: "what if I inflicted something like that on a blorbo. as a treat. But also make it about the old spellcaster's struggle of 'oh shit no spells left'."

Took me over three months, but there you go :o) Five chapters, will update on Friday evenings (UTC+1). I'll be reblogging this post with the AO3 link ASAP!

When Vox Machina are hired to recover a cursed amulet that might “burn them all”, it seems at first glance that they narrowly escape the consequences – again. Turns out, there are lots of ways to define “burn”.

The Mechanics of Spellcasting

I.

An arrow whizzed past Vex’s ear, close enough for the sound to kiss a trail of goosebumps around her shoulder.

“How many of those fuckers are armed?” she muttered around clenched teeth.

She didn’t expect an answer, but she got one anyway, along with a sudden rustle of leaves very close.

“I counted ten.” Only the familiarity of a voice she knew as well as her own stopped her from going for her dagger. “But now I’m thinking there might be more inside the main temple.”

Vex took two seconds to raise an eyebrow at her twin.

“In those ruins? Please, there’s hardly any ceiling left and it’s a wonder half the walls are still standing. Do you really think—”

This time the arrow took a bit of skin and cloth, and Vex hissed. The stinging pain in her arm was not enough to throw her aim: her own arrow sailed fast and true and buried itself into one of the cultists, who let out a cry. Then, unexpectedly, another, a bit gurgling.

Vax grinned as his bloody dagger flashed back in his hand.

“Oh come on!” Vex protested. “I had this one!”

“And now you don’t have to finish him. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Find your own damn cultists and leave me my—what the hell is this now?”

The ancient temple complex – so utterly ancient it barely deserved to still be called a temple – seemed to be coming to… not ‘life’, not exactly, not when the walls shivered with a light that seemed its very absence. The mid-afternoon sun peeking weakly through the fog was gone, eclipsed by a void shining at the edges so bright Vex had to shield her eyes for a second. On a dais eight feet tall in the middle of a clearing, set inside a carved wall with crumbling edges, the very amulet the Super-High Intensity Team (gods, that name) had been tasked to retrieve started to glow in rhythm with the three creeps chanting in front of it. Their tattered red robes flapped in a wind that only seemed to blow around the wall.

That… had to be a very bad sign.

“Guys, we have to get that amulet,” Vex whispered into the earring to whoever could hear – and was close enough to act. Judging by the twin roars of Grog and Minxie-Keyleth, who seemed to be raging just as hard as the barbarian while still keeping four cultists entangled in her vines, they could be counted out. Pike and Scanlan were closer, but similarly occupied. The trills from Scanlan’s flute were barely audible in the tangled mess of noise. And Trinket – who didn’t have an Earring of Whisper anyway – was reluctantly licking his wounds somewhere on the outskirts of the clearing after taking out the first two red-robed assholes who’d come at them with sickles.

At least Percy replied between two deafening blasts from his pepperbox, “That’s going –” BANG “– to be –” BANG “– a bit of a problem.”

“Is that Percy-speak for ‘I need a hand’?” Vax whispered, and Vex shook her head.

“All right there, darling?” she asked, faux-nonchalant.

“Oh, I’ll be fine, but those…” Another explosion cut him off. “I’m much too far from that dais and those bloody fanatics aren’t making things easy in the slight—oh, bollocks –”

The last word ended with a cry. Vax’s hand tightened around the hilt of his dagger. “I’m coming,” he said tersely.

Percy didn’t answer. Another bad sign, thought Vex, her heartbeat loud in her chest.

Vax gave her a tense nod, and dashed off. Vex rolled away from her cover, bow poised in search of another target.

Which she found quickly enough. The cultist who leapt at her with a sickle and a yell didn’t even have time to form a full syllable.

“We will not be stopped,” he gargled as Vex crouched near him in the mud, trying to get her bearings. “The Cloaked Serpent shall rise over the bones of the Wildmother. We will not be stop—”

“Oh, shut up,” muttered Vex, staring hard through the fog and the tendrils of weird light. Five or six fanatics stood between her and the amulet, half of them halfway up the dais’ stairs, armed to the teeth or wearing ragged clothing that suggested spellcasters with next to no subtlety. Shooting from her half-cover would reveal her position to all of them. There had to be some way to get up there…

“You will not touch the Eye of Melora,” came the wheezing voice again, weaker this time. “We blessed it and shall protect it until he returns… If you remove it you will burn…”

“I said shut up,” Vex hissed. She wasn’t in the habit of killing unarmed enemies, especially enemies that looked like a breath away from death already, but this guy was seriously begging to be an exception.

After a while, he complied. Not that he had much of a choice, considering the rattle in his breathing.

Improbably, the next thing she heard clearly through the sounds of fighting was a lilting melody that seemed to reach through her chest, bypassing her ears. Tension and fatigue drained from her muscles; new warmth flowed into her forearms. She took a deep breath, fingers flexing around the riser of her bow.

“Scanlan?” she whispered into the earring when the flute fell silent. “Where are you?”

“In the bush at the foot of that platform thing. Shit, don’t tell me I’m the only one here?”

Vex peeked over the low wall she was hiding behind. A pair of wide brown eyes met hers from the cover of the underbrush close to the dais. She could see Percy in the distance, covered by Vax and Keyleth; Pike and Grog were a little closer, but nowhere near enough to reach the amulet easily.

“Afraid so. Is there anything you can do?”

“Wow,” she heard him murmur with a small laugh, “we’re that desperate?”

Vex bit back her first retort and snapped instead, “You heard what Selja said. We can’t let them finish the ritual.”

“Sure. Also, I hate to be that guy, but I’m thinking we won’t get paid if we show up at her door without the amulet.”

“Pretty sure this’ll soon be the last of our problems,” she muttered under her breath, standing up to shoot a couple of arrows into a fanatic who was about to hit Keyleth, then ducking back down immediately and running along the wall.

Perhaps she was being overly pessimistic. It did look like things were looking up for the other five; maybe just stopping the ritual would be enough for the elderly dwarf druid who had hired their services. And maybe, seeing their comrades being mowed down, the last cultists would stop right there and surrender.

And maybe gold would grow on trees and chicken would fall cooked and seasoned from the sky.

Vex shook her head and stared at the dais again – or rather at the stairs leading up to it, as looking at the light show at the top was getting harder and harder. When she looked again at the bushes nearby she found them empty.

She frowned, puzzled.

“Scanlan?” she murmured again, as low as she could, just in case. “Where did you go? What are you doing?”

If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought the quiet snort that answered her was tinged with nervousness.

“Something stupid. We need to get that amulet, right?”

“Where are you?”

“Shhh – halfway up the stairs. I’m waving at you, by the way.”

For a split second Vex thought That gnome is fucking with me. Then, as she peered at the stairs so hard everything else fell away for just a moment, she spotted a tiny bit of mud falling off a step, right behind one of the cultists armed to the teeth.

Invisible.

Right.

Knowing Scanlan, he could be giving her the finger for all she knew.

“Be careful,” she whispered. “There has to be wards on this thing. One of the fuckers said they ‘blessed’ it. That could mean all manner of bad things if you touch it.”

“Like I could reach anyway.” He must be getting closer; his voice was barely audible under the eerie wind howling around the wall that contained the glowing amulet, like a balled-up storm of magic. “It’s okay, I’ll just improvise.”

A speck of purple glimmered into existence at the edge of the sphere, right where the light became weird. The three chanting fanatics in the middle didn’t seem to notice; one of the guards on the stairs did. He only had time to take two steps towards the small purple hand before Vex’s arrow went straight through his throat and he toppled off the platform. His colleagues shouted; some grabbed their various weapons while others fell into spellcasting stances.

The hand sailed through both the wind and the dark light and plucked the amulet from the wall. Somehow, amidst the howling wind and the other sounds of battle, the faint click was clear as day.

Both sound and light ceased to exist for a heartbeat.

Then the top of the dais exploded.

There was no other word for it. Magic burst out of the wall, inverting colours for a second, sending out a visible blast thirty feet wide. Everyone on the platform – the cultists, their guardians, Scanlan, no longer invisible – was blown off in the second before Vex screwed her eyes shut against the blaze of light and flattened herself on the ground.

When it was all over, when her ears stopped ringing and she had blinked away most of the bright spots, everything was back to normal: the temple was a sleepy old ruin again, wreathed in the fog of a cold Cuersaar afternoon. Half a dozen bodies were strewn around the dais, including – Vex’s heart skipped a beat – Scanlan, who lay unmoving, face down in the mud.

She took a sharp breath. The cold air chilled her chest right down to the lungs.

She was about to bolt towards him when a translucent hand in Scanlan’s signature purple slowly rose to hover above his back, holding the amulet.

And made a thumbs-up.

The icy fear faded from Vex’s chest, replaced by a mix of exasperation and relief so unexpectedly potent it felt like a punch. She clung to the former as she strode towards the gnome, keeping an eye out for any of her arrows she could find again.

“What the hell, Scanlan.” She reached him just as he picked himself up and tottered to his feet, spitting mud and making faces at the taste. “I told you there’d be wards! Are you all right?”

“I ruined my favourite shirt and this mud is fucking disgusting,” he muttered between his hands as he rubbed his face free of dirt – or tried to, anyway. “Yeah, I’m fine, but I hope it was worth it.”

Part of Vex – the part that she tried not to listen to too much, because gods knew it did nothing to help you survive – was sure it had been worth it. Selja, the old dwarf druid who had been so desperate to hire them in Blackridgepool, had been adamant: if those Zehir worshippers managed to get the Eye of Melora to work for them, it could start a chain reaction that would eventually plunge the world into darkness (or Tal’Dorei, at the very least). She had been looking for heroes. She had found the SHITs instead and had to make do.

On the other hand, they simply could not afford to live on gratitude. Heroics were all very well, but if they couldn’t find paid work, they would starve.

Simple as that.

Vex would have to haggle with Selja for hazard pay. Hopefully high enough to be worth it.

It only took a minute for the rest of the team to get there, even less for Vax. As usual, having her twin in sight soothed something in her soul, like mending a tiny tear in fabric.

“Did you get the thing?” Keyleth asked, red-faced and chest heaving from the run, mud and broken blades of grass still stuck in her hair. “Tell me you got the thing!”

Scanlan made a gesture that his magic hand mirrored to present the amulet.

“…Ta-daa?” he offered with a grin.

“So this is the Eye of Melora,” said Percy, leaning to have a better look. “Well, our employer will be pleased.”

“Nobody touch it with their bare hands,” Vex snapped. “I heard a cultist say they ‘blessed it’, and whoever removed it would ‘burn’. It’s probably cursed.”

“Or the wall it was set into was booby trapped,” Vax pointed out. “Did you see anything, Scanman?”

“You mean from where I stood, twenty feet away from it? No! I could barely see my own hand! Did you notice the big old cloud of weird magic?”

Pike’s eyes went round. “Wait, you walked into that big ball thing?”

“Nah, I stayed outside,” said Scanlan, still holding his arcane hand in front of him while he tried to brush the rest of the mud off his clothes. “I’m not an idiot. Just because there were a couple of clowns in red right in the middle of it doing their thing doesn’t mean it was a good idea to stand in there, too. I just needed to get a little closer for the mage hand to work. What happened to these guys, anyway?”

The guys in question, they realised when they looked around and checked the remaining bodies, were dead or gone. Of the hapless goons who’d stood on the stairs, only a couple of corpses were left; those sported broken necks or other damage from getting blown off from a height across a distance. But the three cultists in red robes who had been right in the centre of the sphere were a whole other story.

“They look…” Grog tilted his head to the side. “Cooked.”

“Or boiled,” remarked Scanlan from where he sat on Grog’s shoulder while Keyleth and Pike inspected the bodies. “Like lobsters. But with hair.”

“Their clothes match the colour scheme, at the very least,” said Percy in a dry tone that might have brought up some bad memories of Syngorn for Vex if not for the faint twinkle of humour in his eyes. “What do you think caused this?”

“Probably the curse Vex was talking about,” Pike replied with a frown. “Scanlan? Sure you didn’t go into the magic sphere?”

“I didn’t even touch it! And someone else was closer anyway, a… a hot chick with a scar on her nose. Pretty sure she bailed. She must have dodged it, too.”

Keyleth was still inspecting a corpse, which did look like it had been steeped in boiling water. The face and eyes were a particularly gruesome sight.

“Selja would’ve told us if there was a curse on the amulet,” she said absently, as though deep in thought. “But if those fanatics put something of their own on it…”

“Okay,” said Pike, “that’s it.” She rose and looked up at Scanlan, still perched on Grog. “I wanna try a remove curse on you if that’s okay. Just in case.”

Scanlan looked at Grog – who looked back with the furrowed brow of someone who knew next to nothing about magic but didn’t like the way the conversation was going (Vax had the same look sometimes) – then back at Pike again.

Then he shrugged.

“I mean, sure. If you still got enough juice.”

“Don’t worry about that. I have enough for a couple spells. Grog?”

Grog lowered Scanlan to the ground. As soon as the gnome’s feet touched the grass, Pike splayed her hand on his chest, in the deep V of his open shirt, and closed her eyes, clutching her holy symbol.

Vex could have sworn Scanlan went crimson for half a second.

“How d’you feel?” asked Pike when her eyes and her pendant stopped glowing.

Scanlan looked down at her hand, still on his bare chest, and grinned. “Like the most beautiful woman in the world is feeling me up, so… yeah, pretty awesome. Pretty horny, too, of course.”

Pike drew back her hand immediately and snorted, her ears very pink.

“Of course. Well,” she added more gently, “I think you’ll be fine.”

“To be fair,” said Vax with a smirk, “‘horny’ is pretty much your default setting anyway, Shorty.”

“You know it.”

“Situation normal, then,” Vex cut in, raising her voice just so she knew she’d have everyone’s attention. “I’m gonna go get Trinket. And then we can get rid of that thing and get paid,” she muttered as she strode away to the edge of the forest.

She’d managed not to run while she stayed in sight of the others, but as soon as the woods closed around her she dashed through the trees. Trinket, to her immense relief, was close to where she’d ordered him to stay; when she dropped next to him he shot her a gaze that managed to be forlorn and reproachful all at once. She ran a hand into the fur of his shoulders, near the deep cut on his neck that still slowly oozed blood. He smelled warm and musty with a sharp undertone of oncoming winter, and he shivered a little but felt reassuringly alive and steady.

“I know, I know, love,” Vex whispered as she poured the last healing spell she could cast into him. Not for the first time, she wished she could know for sure whether he could understand her – it certainly looked like he could. “I’m sorry I left you here. There was such a lot of those nasty people, and you were already hurt, and…”

She trailed off and laughed when he gave her a big warm lick from her neck to her temple. God, his breath was something else. Not that she’d have it any other way.

She gingerly circled his head with her arms and laid her head into the shoulder that didn’t have drying blood on it, closing her eyes. The slow, steady beat of Trinket’s heart resonated through her. She let it guide her breathing as she buried her face into his neck.

“I promise you, darling, we are going to find you armour someday,” she murmured into the fur that tickled her nose. “Then you can show everybody what a big, badass bear you are. And you can protect me, and I can protect you, and together we can protect Vax, because gods know he’s shit at taking care of himself.”

Trinket answered with a noncommittal rumble and leaned into the embrace.

Her brother was safe, her bear was safe, her team was safe.

Vex let herself smile, and, eventually, relax.

—

(I relate to the Titmouse animators – turns out it’s bloody hard to keep track of seven main characters in a scene and make sure none of them get forgotten, especially once you add Trinket to the picture.

He’s the goodest bear, though 💜)

See you Friday!

[thessalian]

Thess vs TLOVM S3, Ep 12

Well, Arcane S2 comes out in just over a week, and I wanted to get TLOVM all watched before then, so I think it's safe to say that I Have Done It. Or I will have in the next half-hour or so. That said ... let's go!

'Glorious' new body, huh? Well. It's a look. I guess. I'm sure someone's into that. Rule 34, y'know.

Y'know, Thorshan ... Raidak ... whatever ... that's not what Krishna meant about becoming death. I mean, I guess you're going for the Oppenheimer thing, but ... seriously, they meant time-- Oh, never mind, fuck it, whatever.

GROG!

YES! GO, PIKE! YOU-- Wait. Why is your shield hellfire-orange now?!?

...Good outlook, Grog, buuuuuuut...

This body what-now?!?

Ofuck THIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN UNTIL THE WHISPERED ONE FIGHT AT LEAST A WHOLE STORY ARC FROM NOW!

Wow. I just got a screen snip at the best possible time.

(Also, screen-snip is a STUPID-ASS NAME FOR IT.)

YES! NICE SHOT, VEX!

Yeah, no, Pike-- nononono... Fuck.

WaitWUT?!? WHEN DID THIS BECOME TETRIS?!?

That's not going to comfort the man who made an open-ended deal with a death god because of a recent "chance taken"!

Actuallyyyyyyy ... she was more fuelled by ... like ... not having a whole bunch of people die, but ... you know...

Can ... can he actually punch through magic? I mean, hopefully that's not some Prismatic Wall shit...

GOIN' MINXIE! YES! Haven't seen that in, like ... most of a season!

Message for anyone counting uses of Wild Shape right now: FUCK OFF AND ENJOY THE SPECTACLE!

Oooooooooooooooooh shiiiiiiiiiiiiiit...

Did ... did you actually plan to get fired there? ...No pun intended?

...I guess he can punch through magic.

.........She has. A plan. ...And I think I know what it is. Feeblemind wouldn't work here. But... She's learned a few things about connections and roots...

She has. A plan. And she has an Earth Elemental form. Buuuuut that's still gotta hurt to see.

'Fancied?!? You do know how weak a word that is, right? 'Fancied' is "you thought she was hot and wanted to hit that"! ...Then again, what would Raishan know about anything else?

Oop.

Here we go.

Roots ... and connections.

WAIT WAIT WAIT NOT WITH THE ORTHAX-GUN!

At least the Orthax-gun probably didn't kill her. Them. It. Whatever.

Oooooooh, Percy...

To quote Marisha herself... "It's a power play; I love it!"

...Ooooooor maybe not-- OMG YOU WENT TO THAT CALLBACK!

I don't know if the Raven Queen's going to like this...

Yeah no.

He's not returning to the After! He needs to be released to get to an after!

...Was ... what that an answer?

That's what you think, Allura.

Kima is so done with this shit.

...Which ... yeah, you have and you did and you will, Champion of the Raven Queen.

Heh. That's going to come into play later, that little feather...

"Against"-- Yeaaaaaaaah.

...Ooooooooh this is creepy.

...They're all trapped in there?!? OH EWWWWWW!

Oh, shut the fuck up, Orthax.

Orthax ... shut. The fuck. UP.

Come oooooooooooon...

Oh. Ooooooooh no. Nonono poor Percy...

...WHAT?!? NO!

.........oh, Percy, nooooooo...

FUCK. OFF. ORTHAX.

Come on, Vex...

No, not to HIM; to PERCY!

Thank you!

brb crying

Aaaaaaaand the feather.

N'awwwwwwww, Vax!

Yes! YEEEEEES!

FUCK YOU, ORTHAX!

WHOA. Literally, apparently.

WOOHOO! BRB CRYING SOME MORE!

ALSO LAUGHING OMG DE ROLO!

Emon being rebuilt and-- Statue of Uriel awwwww!

OMG VEX ILU SO MUCH!

That's ... ominous... WTF?!?

That is ALSO ominous.

AND SO IS THAT.

GROG, SHUT UP. Yeaaaah okay.

We had to have the entire group cheer "GILMORE!" at least once. Something was missing with Gilmore's involvement until just that second, and now it is all complete.

...I am going to find out who wrote this and I don't know what I'm going to feed them for that Meat Man reference but it will probably not be JUST bees. (...possibly also some wasps. And if you get that reference, hello, fellow cross-fandom person!)

I'm sure they've spent Winter's Crest at Whitestone at least once in the campaign. Or possibly that was Emon; I think they had like two Winter's Crests in Emon. Wasn't one of them something about chasing some kind of demon? Meh, anyway, this is a very off-season Easter egg hunt, this entire scene.

...Like Grog talking about loving shopping, when Travis has been known for several campaign to hate shopping 'episodes'.

...Okay, what's he gonna do? Ah ... he's going to leave in a less ... antagonistic way.

And the Aramente ... with Vax?!? And ... a squire to the Voice of the Tempest as the wrong character?!? BWAHAHA.

Ooooooh here's the song.

N'awwwwww. Montage of happy.

...Except for that yick on his wrist...

...aaaand except for the cultist chanting--

...the eyes ... or lack thereof-- GAH FUCK!

Well. Who's glad they announced that their S4 got greenlit after THAT last frame or ten?!?

Now. WHO WROTE THIS?!? Brandon Auman, and Sam. I've talked about both of them before, but I think I'm starting to get a feel for when there's an episode that Sam had a hand in writing? I think it's the trolly little Easter eggs. That's just ... a very Sam thing. But he and Brandon, particularly together, seem to be able to get you laughing, ram a dagger into your heart while you're laughing, and then make you laugh again while you're sobbing with the pain of it. (Also Meredith Kecskemety, whose name I will learn to pronounce.)

Well, that's that. I so very much want S4. I need to see what they do with the Whispered One arc. I really do.

Oh. And. Before I go watch Omn1's take on this ep and then take a week or so's breather before hitting Arcane S2? That screenshot I mentioned:

I mean. Did I or did I not pause at the best time?

[nostalgiachan]

The Aftermath

Twenty-Third Prompt: What is everyone up to a year after the game?

C/W: Blood, alcohol consumption, mildly NSFW in some parts. Somebody gets naked.

Summary: Vier struggles to remember just what the hell happened at Karlach's Big Birthday Bash. (2237 words)

---

Vier awoke face-down in the grass, the taste of blood and bile fresh in her mouth. Every muscle in her body ached as she struggled simply to push herself up to her knees. Her vision swam, and a searing pain set her head to throbbing. Slowly, her view came into focus, and as she looked down at herself, she reeled as she saw her front absolutely smothered with dried blood. Her pulse began to race as she raised her head, and her eyes were met with a dire sight:

A field littered with bodies. The bodies of those she loved.

Tables had been overturned. Scorch marks carved a path across the field, and the ground was pockmarked from what looked to be explosions. A wild bear lay in a puddle of its own blood, and–

“Wait…a bear?”

Through the haze of pain and confusion, the gears of Vier’s mind falteringly ground into motion. It was a long and arduous moment before the thought finally formed.

“...There are no bears in Dawnshire.”

With a groan, Vier pushed herself onto wobbly legs and stumbled her way towards the prone ursine. The closer she got, the more she could smell something that was certainly not blood - no, it was the unmistakably pungent smell of particularly strong alcohol. Eventually, she grew close enough that she could see the bear wasn’t dead, but merely sleeping in a puddle of…feywine. The bear also had a familiar scar on its face, a gnarly scratch across the left side of its forehead.

The sight of that scar was like pulling out a piece of debris jammed between the cogs, and hazy memories finally began to drift up from the inner workings.

The previous night had been Karlach’s birthday party, the one Vier had been working for so long to put together. Their infernal friend, Hope, had surprised them all by not only transporting Karlach and Wyll to Dawnshire, but gathering up just about every other friend who’d wished to attend. Having portals to almost every major metropolitan area in the Sword Coast conveniently located in the House of Hope certainly had its benefits, it seemed. Even Lae’zel, who Vier absolutely hadn’t expected would be able to pull herself away from the war effort in the Astral Plane, had arrived in person.

Everything had gone off without a hitch, she remembered. She’d had the finest food the local butchers and bakers could prepare, there were beverages for every sort of palate, she’d invited bards from the area to perform. Everyone was enjoying themselves to the fullest, and as dusk gave way to night, it was nearly time for the fireworks to begin.

And that was when Astarion had produced the Decanter of Endless Wine, loaded with feywine.

“...Aw, fuck, that’d do it.”

More and more, the memories flooded back. She’d been the first to partake, and it had been just as Astarion had described it - “sweet as summer berries, with a minxy little kick”. Very lovely, very dangerous, the sort of wine that quietly crept up on you and took you when you least expected it. It did not, however, creep up on the non-elves among them, also as Astarion had described. As Vier found herself pouring a second glass while setting up the fireworks, she wondered if Astarion had actually told anyone what it was they were drinking, considering its potentially deleterious effects.

Given the state of things, Vier had to surmise the answer was “no”.

As far as she could remember, Gale had been the first to fall under the drink’s effects, deciding he wished to engage Rolan in a “contest of illusions”. The tiefling’s siblings, Cal and Lia, had egged their brother on, themselves beginning to slip under the feywine’s influence. There was some shouting and boasting about “the Wizard of Waterdeep” and “the master of Ramazith’s Tower” before the two began to conjure increasingly complicated illusions; an impressive feat for ones so inebriated, to be sure. 

Soon, the dueling wizards were summoning up terrifying beasts, until at last, one of them - Vier could not remember the culprit, but had a sneaking suspicion it was Gale - called upon a projection of an Elder Brain. At that moment, a battle cry sounded out.

“Ghaik! Mha stil’na forjun inyeri!” Lae’zel screamed, apparently so lost to the feywine that she thought the illusion was real. She unsheathed her silver sword and charged, nearly skewering both wizards entirely in her madness. Vaguely, she could remember hearing Astarion and Shadowheart having an absolute blast at the show, both well into their third cups.

While their antics had proved wonderfully entertaining, they’d also distracted Vier from her work. She’d returned her attention to the fireworks, and must have missed the exact moment that she’d lost Jaheira, Minsc, and Halsin to the drink. As she set up the mortars in neat lines, something incredibly hot and incredibly heavy suddenly crashed into her, taking her off her feet entirely.

“Godsdamn, you got me whizbangs and everything!” Karlach cheered as she practically grappled Vier on the ground, rubbing their faces together like an excited puppy. “Aww, you’re the best, Vier!”

Wyll quickly came scrambling up behind her, attempting to untangle the two. “Careful there, hot stuff,” he gently chided her. “Explosives, remember? Don’t want to go setting them off early.”

“Ugh, fine,” she pouted as she finally released Vier from her grip and allowed Wyll to haul her up to her feet. “Oi, where’s Dammon gone off to? Need to bend his ear about some stuff. And maybe get more of that…what’d Gale call it? Aqua vitae?”

“Honestly, I think you might’ve had enough for now,” Wyll laughed as he led her away, though even in the low light on the edge of the party grounds, Vier could see he looked a bit concerned for her. Vier couldn’t help but smile; Karlach was in good hands with him.

From that point, the memories grew vague once more. She’d finished setting up the fireworks; had yet another glass of feywine; at some point, Lae’zel’s war against the illusory Elder Brain came to an end, and thankfully, both Gale and Rolan had kept their heads intact; there was something about Lae’zel using Shadowheart’s lap as a pillow.

Of course, her recollection grew sharper once more when Astarion appeared. He’d fallen atop her almost as hard as Karlach had, though he’d notably been stone sober. As he wrapped his arms about her from behind, he purred directly into her ear, “Darling, I think I’ve waited just about long enough. Everyone’s good and drunk now, so I’d like to get good and drunk now, if you wouldn’t mind.”

A flush quickly crept across Vier’s skin as Astarion breathed into her ear. “Wait, you want to do that here? Just out in the open?”

“Well, we could sneak off into the bush if you require some privacy,” he said with a smirk, “but I think everyone else is too preoccupied to pay attention to us. We can try that little trick like last time.”

The way Vier’s vision had just begun to tilt spoke that perhaps she shouldn’t attempt “that little trick”, but her inhibition had grown just loose enough that she’d make the attempt anyway. Nervously, she offered her throat to him. “Alright, just…try to be quiet about it, yeah?”

“Oh, if anyone here’s in danger of making noise, darling, it’s you,” Astarion whispered dangerously into her ear before he sank his fangs directly into her neck. The familiar sensation of bliss coursed through her veins as surely as her blood left them, the sound of his greedy swallowing the only noise between the two of them. She bit down hard on her lower lip as he drew more and more from her. The moment the telltale dizziness set in, she raised a hand to restore herself, and she could almost feel her blood regenerating.

Astarion gripped Vier’s head to hold her steady as they entered the second round. The more he drank, the tighter he held onto her, seemingly desperate not to miss a drop. But as he lost himself in the feeding, he began to grow messy. By the second restoration, Vier’s blood was beginning to pool around Astarion’s lips; soon, it trickled, then ran in great rivulets down her neck, staining the front of her blouse a deep crimson. 

Between the blood loss and the undeniable pleasure of feeding, it was getting harder for either of them to keep quiet. At the third and final restoration, Astarion finally released his hold on Vier, unsheathing himself from her throat with a deep, satisfied moan.

“Gods, it’s like I can taste the sunlight in your veins,” he exalted, “or maybe that’s just the wine.”

As soon as the words left his lips, he seemed to have a moment of revelation.

“Oh. Oh, shit. That might be a problem. Darling, how much have you had to drink again?”

As soon as the world stood still for a second, Vier got to thinking. “I think I’m on, er…four glasses? Why? What’s wrong?”

“Well, there’s a certain old vampire wives’ tale that says if you feed on the inebriated, you’ll pick up their inebriation. So I might wind up just a bit drunker than drunk.” But he waved away the concern with a flourish of his arms. “But I’m sure it’ll be fine! Probably not as bad as it might be if you weren’t a drow. Maybe. Most likely.”

With a bow, he said, “Well, my sweet, I’m off to harass the birthday girl some more while I wait for all this boozed-up blood to kick in. Try not to blow yourself up!”

As soon as Astarion sauntered away, Vier noticed a growing clarity washing over her. She’d restored herself to complete sobriety. Well, she thought, that won’t do at all.

Present Vier was deeply, deeply disappointed in Past Vier’s decision making, as she’d decided to hit the feywine even harder the second time around, making everything after that point an almost total blur. She remembered watching Karlach receive her present, a fantastic new set of infernal iron armor hand-crafted by Dammon. She’d gone to start launching the fireworks, but Karlach had asked if she could do the honors. With a flick of her thumb, she lit the first mortar, and that had been when all the hells had broken loose.

Through some freak accident, the tube tilted and the firework launched sideways, exploding into another of the mortars and starting off a chain reaction. Fireworks launched in every which direction. There were screams in about every language spoken on the face of Toril. Karlach had howled with mad laughter and started picking up some of the mortars and actively aiming them around, starting a firework war as drunken combatants picked up armaments of their own, or even magically conjured projectiles. Tables were flipped for cover. Half the party-goers, and more than a few fighters, had fled for the trees.

She could vaguely remember huddling for shelter behind a crate with Astarion, who had given her a quick, but deep, kiss - his mouth still thick with the taste of her blood - before he dove into the fold, eager for action. After that, all was darkness.

Well, there was nothing to do now, she supposed, but take stock of where everyone ended up. Most had simply fallen asleep in the open field, either alone or in small piles of closest friends and family. A few remained tucked into the trees - Jaheira and Minsc, notably, had remained absolutely sober and looked rather comfortable in a series of vine hammocks Jaheira had conjured up. Astarion, at some point of the evening, had been stuffed into an empty crate; for his own safety, Vier left him inside, as the sun had already cleared the treeline.

Soon, all had been accounted for; all, save for Karlach and Wyll. Vier hoped that they hadn’t already returned to the House of Hope, especially without saying goodbye. The longer she searched, the more she began to feel a bit guilty for all of the drunken shenanigans. Karlach certainly seemed like she’d had fun, which was all Vier had wanted, but she’d also hoped she’d have a nice, relaxing night away from Avernus, not violence and explosions.

But as soon as she stumbled upon the pair, she knew her fears had been unfounded.

The first sign she found of their continued presence on this plane was a discarded pair of boots - clearly Wyll’s. She followed the trail of cast-off shoes, shirts, pants through the woods until at last, she found Wyll and Karlach, stark naked and tangled up in one another, blissfully sleeping in the dappled sunlight beneath a tree. She didn’t want to stare overlong, but damn it, there was just something beautiful about the scene.

Had they been able to have a moment like that together in Avernus? Just the two of them, finally indulging their feelings for one another? Or did the endless onslaught of demons offer them little time for such luxuries? While it was a selfish thought, Vier hoped that last night had given them the chance to get out everything they needed to. In any case, she was deeply happy for them, and while she knew Karlach and Wyll would need to return to the hells quite soon, she wasn’t going to wake them up from that well-earned dream just yet.

[dizautonomia]

Hi uhm!! Sorry if this is odd but, your minxy playlist front triggered me (/pos), and I just wanted to pop in and say that I'm really really happy to peacefully know you again, and I'm glad that the conversations that were had like.. happened? Idk I'm awful at words but, yay :D 💛 also if this is too public then so sorry and obviously feel free to not answer this sbvnkfsk

[ - Nectar! (🛸🍃) on anon cuz i dont enjoy posting on our main very much ]

It’s not too public!! Hi lol! I’m so happy to have you guys back too 😭

Actually if you (or anyone reading hi 👋) want to send me any songs to listen to/talk about if I know them that would be really great :3

[venus-haze]

oop, 1, 4, 10 on the weird write question list lol, but only if youre still answering.

Yeah I’m still down to answer them! Thank you so much ily🖤

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting? Usually Arial because that’s default in Google Docs

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral? Howl or howling I’m obsessed with it!

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you? Yes! I’m seriously not just saying this but The Last Testament is so fucking good like I’ve rewatched House of Wax since reading it and I’m always a little confused Rose isn’t there. @cherubgore’s fics always so good like I’m always so excited when Minxie posts!

Also @blindmagdalena’s Angel!Homelander fic You Get Me Closer To God because it’s so beautifully written! I don’t remember the name of it, but I read a Dead Poets Society fic when I was in high school that used Put Your Head on My Shoulder by Paul Anka in a scene where Neil and Todd dance together and I’ve associated that song with them ever since.

As for my own work, I think fics where I can really remember the mood and mindset I was in while I was working on them “haunt” me, like Howl, My Destruction Is an Hour Late, Brother’s Keeper.

🦇 Battie

[applejuiz]

I'm here to say hold me like water, hold me like a knife is severely underrated and genuinely one of my fav fics rn!!!!!!!

the most recent chapter and some other tidbits made me have a small thought, does the small animal flight response in her make it so when startled, she doesn't breath? to not make any noise, so nothing can hear her and gives her the silence to hear what's around her? in those jumpy moment and freshly awakened from nightmares does she ever forget to breath? does she need to be reminded?

On a different note because I would love to hear the thoughts of the lovely author, is there any signs of ptsd in keyleth that you haven't had a chance to sneak into the fic yet but have been wanting to? (ofc do not have to answer if this spoilery<3)

Oh man, thank you so much!!!! 💖💕💖💕💖 I’m really so proud and excited of how this fic is coming along. It was one of those big ideas I had in the back of my head for so long and never thought I’d write and now it’s going in so many fun directions I didn’t expect. I’m really really glad people are enjoying it.

In terms of the flight response, I can totally picture Keyleth going completely silent and holding her breath in a stressful situation, turning to pure threat assessment before someone else notices and pulls her back, at least some of the time she feels scared. Something that’s been really interesting for me to think about Keyleth’s wild shape. It can turn her into a predator like Minxie but also turn her into a prey animal, so I feel like, as strong as she is, there’s a part of both in her at all times. I see her fear response being on the thinnest hairpin trigger where she has to decide in an instant if she’s going to be predator or prey (and I’m really excited to explore how emotional things also trigger that survival response in her even more in upcoming chapters).

And as far as Keyleth’s ptsd, I think something that’s going to be coming up soon is how little she’s allowing anyone else to help her. One of the biggest differences about being in the Shadowfell was that she was totally alone for weeks so I think she likely forgets that the others can help her, both with her emotional struggles and anything else. I haven’t written much about fights since I have no clue how I would translate game mechanics to prose, but I imagine that Keyleth definitely wild shapes more and doesn’t use her support spells as much as she used to because she sometimes genuinely forgets the rest of the party is there. She definitely gets thrown off anytime someone sends a healing spell her way.

(Also a much smaller physical thing that hasn’t really come up but that I think about a lot: Keyleth’s hair is probably still not doing great, very dried out and brittle after being tangled for so long. It’s so low on the priority list for her it barely registers, but Vax has been slowly working on improving the situation with various soaps and oils and his careful attention when they get the chance.)

Thank you for the ask! And honestly feel free to ask me anything about this fic or anything else ever, I had to fight not to respond with a ten page dissertation on Keyleth’s psyche both in this fic and in canon

[utilitycaster]

Do you think this new option could lead to a break up in the party and some of the characters leaving the group? Because I can't see everyone agreeing that this is the best solution, but I also think Ashton is stubborn enough to refuse to consider anything else

This is going to be a very long answer for what is a pretty short question that could be answered in one sentence, and here's why.

I've gotten a lot of questions in the past week or so that are specifically asking me what I think the future will be - for campaign 3, and for Critical Role generally. And I've gotten a little frustrated by them, which is somewhat uncharacteristic of me because I love having opinions, but the fact is, I don't know and I don't even have strong opinions. So I dug into that, and why people might be asking these things more than usual, and I really think it's because the narrative of this campaign is so constantly under threat of derailment or going in the same old circles that pretty much anyone in the fandom with any sense of narrative structure, and what makes for a well-crafted story is like "so...what's happening." Which is translating as coming to me, a person who is very good at sounding confident and knowledgeable.

I do not fucking know. I share this frustration, and I cannot be the person to clear it up. i am not even the best at narrative or analysis in this fandom; as I pretty frequently state I took the hard STEM option with regards to my education so while I read a lot and have a pretty good sense for the lay person, there are actual like, trained and published writers. For what it's worth several of them are my mutuals and while I'm not putting the rest of this post on them I do feel safe saying they agree that the lack of narrative direction is at the heart of most people's frustrations with this campaign, even if they enjoy the characters. But getting back to the point, I do not know.

Here's where I stand on the actual plot before I go back to the bigger picture. I think that unless Bells Hells decide on their course of action pretty quickly, no ending will really feel satisfying due to that sense of directionlessness - and there are arguments for Bells Hells to take either the Arch Heart or the Accord's plan, though I think the Accord's is far superior, but they need to pick one.

Because of the ongoing issues with this party lacking perspectives that tied in well to this story and having to hinge everything on either one singular interpretation of one single instance in extraordinary circumstances (eg: Dorian), or stuff that feels, as I've said before, retconned, I have generally been extremely amenable to Bells Hells losing party members either through a split or through character deaths. This is not out of any sort of vindictiveness or dislike of characters, but just a hope that now that they know the vibe, the cast will make a character who has a perspective that is relevant to the story (which, FCG is not an ideal example because they happened to be the character who had perhaps best grown from their original concept to fit into the themes of this campaign, but Braius obviously is a very strong character informed by the story as well). I also think that a lot of the indecisiveness is part of the characters' various natures and that will also be a factor, especially since a new character can be both decisive, have a clear point of view, and be a lot more comfortable pissing off the rest of the party to assert it. So: if Bells Hells as they currently stand can decide what to do quickly, no need to break up! But if they can't, yeah, it would be to their and the story's benefit to do so. That's before we get into, for example, the sacrifice required from specifically Imogen or Fearne for the Arch Heart's plan; Ashton is not the one who has to risk their own autonomy for the rest of eternity. They might die in battle, but they will not become a husk housing an ancient hunger. I think the people who might have to do so get to decide.

Now: it may seem counterintuitive to demand a clear direction from a TTRPG, when part of the appeal is that we don't know how it will end, but the thing is, with the past campaigns, we did not know if the party would succeed but we knew that they wanted to do. Vox Machina could have fallen to Vecna but we always knew they were going to fight Vecna. The Mighty Nein's decisions not to get involved with the war are not indecision but rather a very clear decision (do not get involved). Their later reversal of that decision similarly follows from who they are and the richness of their pasts.

Bells Hells does not have that, and the endless circular conversations are both circular in game and a vicious cycle out of it; because we've always been focused on this plot from very early on and because the characters were not developed as strongly, we have a lot of very indecisive people who are too trapped in this crisis to develop and become decisive. In a way, it feels like Matt's been something like the Arch Heart here: saying "oh, THIS would be interesting, I wonder what will happen" at everything when it's like "ok but consequences are like, important, and maybe you should let things play out. I mean, two cycles isn't great but it is still only two; maybe you should actually let your children/players figure this out, even if it doesn't fit your idea of what should happen, instead of throwing yet another new thing at them."

So: I don't know and I don't have answers about Campaign 3 events at this point because, again, as someone who has a pretty good sense of what makes for a satisfying narrative, it has frequently subverted those requirements (which, to be clear, is bad - it's not genre subversion or a masterful play on expectations, it's subverting actual satisfying narrative beats; as someone said on one of my other posts in not quite so many words, it's like storyline-baiting). I know I tend to present my points with confidence, and I am pretty confident about a lot of things like CR lore and said sense of narrative, but like...maybe this guess on the fandom vibe is incorrect, but I think I'm getting these questions because people are saying "hey, do you know where we're going? I think I am reading this map wrong" to me and I'm here to say "no, you're reading it fine, we've gone off the road and are just kinda crashing through underbrush, and maybe we'll hit another road and continue on that and I can give some insight, but also we might go off a cliff, no way to tell."

[harleyquinnzelz]

hii!! if it’s okay can you share where you found the fonts for your Minxie poster?? I love her btw!! If you don’t mind me asking, where did she learn to do magic?? hope you have a lovely day lovely <33

Hey! I would, of course, be more than happy to share where I downloaded the font used for the poster... if I remembered where I had gotten it.

The font was one I had already downloaded and installed onto my computer but idk if it's one from a resource pack or one I found and downloaded from dafont.com myself. Before I went hunting for a font that matched the one used for the real character posters, I thought it would be a good idea to check through the ones I already had, and the one I settled on matched the best. The best I can do is tell you what the font is called and hope that you can find the right one. In any case, it's called and the font I used is AgencyFB and the font settings I used for the dimensions of Minxie's poster is 325pt with the height at 10 pt, set to metrics with the spacing between letters at -10. I hope this helps, and I'm sorry I couldn't link you to where I originally found the link myself but dafont would be a good place to start looking.

Aa for your Minxie questions, she hasn't actually had anyone to teach her magic. It in her blood, from her mother who is a widely admired and feared sea witch. Unfortunately Minxie was raised by her very human father and doesn't really remember her mother. She realized that she could use magic when she was very young and everything that she can do is a result of trial and error and her teaching herself. Unfortunately, Minxie has a whole lot to learn. Her most reliable magical ability is her talent of turning herself into a cat.

Hope you have a good day too, and I hope this helped. If you have any other questions, I'm happy to answer them!

[yasminsqueendom]

3. Family Drama

WC:3798

TW/CW: Brief Physical Violence (at end), Emotional Manipulation by family

Micky groaned when her alarm started blaring. She needed more rest. Yesterday had worn her out in more ways than just physical. She debated calling out, but the thought of sitting in the house another day nearly made her gag. Just go in, girl. She kicked her blanket off and stumbled over to her bathroom. After a quick wipe down in the bathroom she brushed her teeth. What should I wear? She was shuffling through her storage bin when she heard her phone buzz.

Good morning. How did you sleep? Erik was checking in on her.

I slept ok. Getting ready for work now. How was your night? 

Long. My sleep schedule is all out of whack. I just got in the office tho. Have a good day, bbygirl. ;*

She sent back a short you, too and continued dressing.

Hours later she was dozing at her station in Minxie's Clothing. She was supposed to be clearing out the dressing rooms, but her exhaustion wouldn't let her keep moving. She'd almost begun to snore when she heard her name.

"Mikaela? Are you back here?" Fuck.

She snapped up with a handful of clothes to greet her supervisor, Stacy, before the older woman started opening all the stalls. "Yes Stace. I'm just grabbing some.." Micky inspected her handful "...crop tops." She popped out of the stall, an awkward smile on her face. "One of them was kinda stuck under the bench so it took me a second."

"Okay. What's going on?" Clearly, Stacy was not convinced. "You've been walking around like a zombie all day. And now you're napping on the job."

"Nothing. I just slept bad last night. Lot of tossing and turning, you know? I'm sorry." I really gotta stop lying like this. "It won't happen again."

"I know it won't. That's what PTO is for. You don't get paid to sleep." Micky swallowed the urge to mention that using PTO meant that she would, in fact, be paid to sleep. Stacy wandered off after Micky apologized a few more times. Stress was spilling into all aspects of her life and it was causing big problems. What am I supposed to do now?

Erik felt himself dozing off in his chair. He’d told the secretary that he didn’t want visitors today. It was too difficult for him to focus on work. He forced his eyes to stay open as he looked around his office space. Floor to ceiling windows, name placard made of heavy wood and polished steel, wide open decor, expensive rug just inside the door. He worked for one of the most prestigious security firms in the nation, making damn good money. None of it did anything for him like his other job did. 

He thought back on his life, and how he ended up here. In an effort to get him legitimate, his cousin had pulled strings to get him a day job. T’Challa was righteous like that. Erik, on the other hand, had grown up with a different perspective of the world. A few years after his father was killed, his uncle, dressed in a catsuit with a tattoo on his lip came and scooped him up. That was his first visit to Wakanda. He’d been 15 years old, and angry as hell. He ran away several times, getting into trouble. They’d had to sit a Dora Milaje outside his rooms to keep him in check, but even that didn’t work sometimes. Once King T’Chaka realized that he couldn’t keep a leash on his nephew, he let young Erik roam under the condition that he spent at least two weeks of every month in Wakanda. Erik was 18 by that time. 

The sound of his phone buzzing drew him out of his memories. “Stevens.” He answered.

“Cousin! How are you doing? How is work? You said you would call when you got back to the States. Why didn’t you?” Shuri’s excited voice momentarily overwhelmed his senses. She had a way of doing that. Still, he adored her. 

“Hey Shuri-cakes. Wassup?” She hated that nickname. Using it had the desired effect, she went silent. “I didn’t have time to call. I needed to sleep off the jetlag, and I got caught up in a private matter. Work is work. How’s things over there?” 

“First of all, don’t call me ‘Shuri-cakes’. I hate it! You know that. What private matter?”

“That’s none of your business, lil Cuz. That’s why it’s private.”

“Erik, you promised my mother you would not do mercenary work anymore.”

“It wasn’t that big. A friend of mine was harassed by a creep while she was taking a walk. I was just helping her out, that’s it.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he’d fucked up.

“SHE?! Who is she? You have a lady friend? And you didn’t tell me. I am offended. How can you be my favorite cousin if you keep such secrets from me?”

“I’m your only first cousin, I just ought to be your favorite.”

“You cannot distract me, Erik. Tell me more about this lady friend. Quickly, please.”

“You sound like your mother when you make demands like that.”

“Don’t ever say that to me again. Tell me what I want to know.”

“I have to get back to work, Shuri-cakes. Talk to you later.” He hung up before she could respond.

His computer screen lit up with Shuri’s face glaring at him from the other side of the world. Why do I have a little cousin who can hack into anything from anywhere in the world?

“You do not get to hang up on me! Tell me who she is? I want to know.”

“Shuri! I work for a SECURITY firm. You cannot just hack into my computer like that. Didn’t y’all want me to go legit? I could lose my job, little girl.”

“T’Challa may have brought you to the door, but MY software is what sealed the deal. You should be saying ‘thank you’ cousin.” The smug look on her face made him wish he could whoop her ass. She was too damn cute. Erik felt the corner of his mouth twitch at the sight of his little cousin trying to be tough. 

“Listen up, little girl. I can have friends without you in my business.”

“Well, your phone’s GPS says you spent quite a bit of time at a park yesterday, and then at an apartment building 15 minutes from your condo.” Erik pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Shuri, I’m gonna count. And by the time I finish, you better be off my damn computer. 10...9...8…”

“But, Erik.”

“5...4...3...2…” She disconnected the line before he finished. Pain in the ass. 

Shuri hadn’t been entirely wrong to suspect him. He was busy the night before. Oh, Clarence. Erik didn’t feel an ounce of guilt about the bitch nigga’s fate. He was thankful that he’d left his phone in his condo. His little cousin didn’t need to know everything about him. She didn’t need to know that Clarence would be running out of air in the next few hours. Didn’t need to know that he would spend all of eternity buried under the park he liked to prowl so much. Didn’t need to know that all the ‘legit’ shit was just one side of him. Killmonger was very much alive. Sorry to disappoint you, Unc. You prolly in the ancestral plane side eyeing the fuck outta me right now. Erik would always have that other side. People like him were necessary to balance out the bullshit. Heroes can’t be everywhere.

Bzzz Bzzz. He gripped his phone up, thinking it would be Shuri. “What did I say, Shuri-cakes?” There was a pause on the line. He finally looked at the name on the screen. Oh fuck.

“Who is Shuri-cakes?” Micky’s voice sounded cold in his ear.

“My little cousin.” He wasn’t lying, but he knew Micky would find it suspicious just the same.

“Your little cousin.” She said it slowly, like she was trying to convince herself it was the truth.

“Yeah. I was supposed to call home to let them know I made it to the States. She was chewing me out about it. What’s going on, ma?” He wasn’t about to argue with two crazy ass women in one day. Micky would either accept his words, or get the hell over it. “You aiight?”

She responded after a pause. “Yeah, I’m good. Just tryna see if you wanted lunch. I still feel like I owe you for helping me yesterday.”

“You don’t owe me for being a decent person. I would do the same if I didn’t know you.”

Another pause. “Oh. So I’m just like a stranger to you?”

Erik pinched the bridge of his nose again. “No Micky. You’re like….” Like what? A sister? Nah. A friend? Maybe. More than that? Probably.

“You really hesitating right now?” She was getting pissed. He had to get ahead of this.

“You’re my friend, Micks. I got love for you, more than most. Like family.” 

“Like your cousin?” She couldn’t get past that part. 

“Listen, I’m behind in work. I gotta get through these last few meetings. How about a rain check? We can do dinner.” 

“Ummm. I have to go over my mom’s place later. I won’t be back until like 10.” She still sounded irritated, but something told Erik it wasn’t just him that was pissing her off. 

“That’s cool. Let me know when you get home. I’ll be there with takeout from your favorite place.” 

“Okay, I will. See ya.” 

“Bye.” He hung up, taking a deep breath to center himself. Two of his favorite women annoyed him more than anyone else in the world. Only I would be so lucky.

Micky sat in her car for a while after work, thinking back on the conversation she’d had with Erik before she was supposed to go to lunch. She knew it wasn’t really her business, but she wanted to know who ‘Shuri-cakes” was. It would be annoying for her to keep asking about it. Erik had never raised his voice at her, but she knew he had a temper. It would be better for her to just let it go. Take the free food. If only she could keep things simple like that. Her curiosity wouldn’t let her let it go.

She’d powered through the rest of her shift, avoiding the comforting privacy of the fitting rooms. Stacy wouldn’t stop hovering so she never had a down moment. She skipped her lunch, having lost her appetite after her conversation with Erik. Now, she had to go see her mother. Apparently, there was some important update about Mark that couldn’t be stated over the phone. It sounded like an excuse to get her over there. Micky didn’t want to be involved.

She started her car and pulled out of the parking lot. Her mom called again while she was driving. “Hey, Mom. I’m on my way.”

“Okay, baby. Your grandma is here, too.” Fuck. 

“Oh alright. I just left work, so I’ll be there in 25 minutes.” It was 7:30pm. This was the last thing Micky wanted to do after working an 11 hour shift. “See you soon.” She hung up as her mother was saying goodbye. 

Almost a half hour later, Micky turned into her mother’s driveway. She sighed as she unlocked the door, announcing herself. “Mommy, I’m here.”

“We’re in the kitchen!” Micky walked through the house like she was going to be executed. Her eyes wandered as her feet carried her forward. Almost nothing had changed since she moved out a year ago. The polished hardwood floors shone so bright. The old school floral wallpaper that lined the living room brought back memories of happier times. Even the layered glass on the wall that reflected the rest of the room reminded her of her childhood. The huge China cabinet looked like it was cleaned recently. Everything spotless as usual.

“There you are!” Her mother had come to the kitchen doorway, most likely wondering what was taking so long. “Hurry up, now. We got a lot to talk about.” She disappeared back into the kitchen. Micky heard silverware clinking, and the smell of good cooking finally hit her nose. Damn. They weren’t going to let her leave without filling her up. This was gonna ruin her dinner. 

“Hey Grandma.” Micky bent to kiss her grandmother on the cheek. Looking at the older woman was almost comical. She loved wearing dark brown wigs despite her wrinkles and slightly hunched back. Mrs. Edna had quite the reputation for being sharp no matter the occasion. This time was no exception. “Looking good as always.”

“And you look worn out.” Micky suppressed a sigh. Sharp clothes. Sharper tongue. It was perhaps the most annoying characteristic of all the hags. They could never just be positive. They had to let you know your failings, too. Ms. Edna yanked Micky’s arm toward herself. "Still got that bumblebee tattoo, I see." Micky resisted the urge to pull her arm out of the older woman’s grasp.

"It don't come off, Grandma Edna." Micky looked toward her mother. "Y'all wanted to talk about something?"

The two older women looked at each other before Grandma Edna spoke up. "Well, why don't you sit and eat some food first. You look like one of them crackheads."

"Grandma!" Micky felt humiliated. She knew she was on the chunky side, so her grandma was being smart.

"Now don't you raise your voice at me! If you came around more, you'd be eating good. You got one of them disorders?"

Micky looked to her mother for some assistance. "Now, mom. Don't get her all upset,” she said.

"I'm just saying, Vicky. The child ain't been around here. God knows what she's been getting into. Especially since she don't have time for her own family." 

Micky wanted to scream. "Is that what you wanted to talk about? Is that why I'm here? To solve family problems that started looooong before I was even a thought." Something inside Micky snapped. Her voice was nearly a whisper, but the intensity in her eyes spoke volumes. "That's it? You wanna be mad at me for telling you grown folks to solve your own problems?"

"Now, Mikaela. Don't speak to your grandmother like that!" Vicky warned.

"Oh mom, please. I didn't want to come here. If this has anything to do with Mark, please say so now. So, I can walk away now and not waste my time."

Both of the older women stared at her for a painfully long moment. Both of their gazes locked on her like they had prey in their sights. Micky felt like she was under attack even though neither of them spoke.

“Well, that’s how you really feel?” Micky watched her mother’s face carefully. Had she gone too far this time? “You feel just because it’s not you directly that you don’t have to get involved.”

“Not exactly.” It was so much more complicated than that. “I just feel like, if he is so angry about the way he was brought up, and he is not handling it right. What am I supposed to do about it? Y’all raised him.” 

“Now you listen here.” Grandma Edna was clearly not about to take that kind of talk from her granddaughter. Even if it was as respectful as Micky could manage. “Sit ya back-talking self down before I put you down.” Micky sat. “Now, if this was you begging for attention, you would want us to give it to you. How dare you ignore your brother when he is in need.”

“I’m not ignoring my brother. He texts me almost everyday. He calls me on occasion, too. Never once have I felt unsafe, or like he was about to do something crazy.” 

Grandma Edna held her hand up, forcing Micky to stop talking. “I know you two talk to each other. That’s why I’m asking you to help. Don’t you think it’s the least you could do?”

“I listen to him. I let him say his piece, and he always seems calmer afterwards. I am helping.” Micky wasn’t about to let one of the hags make her feel guilty about a grown ass man with anger issues. 

“But you don’t know the things he’s said to me. You don’t know the things I’ve heard, or the messages he sends.” Grandma Edna started gesturing at Vicky. Micky looked between the two of them. “Get that computer out my bag.” Oh great. Now we’re breaking his confidence to gossip about his pain. 

“You got a laptop?” That seemed unlikely to Micky. She almost laughed when she saw the brand new android phone her mom pulled out. She calls it a computer, haha. “Oh. Grandma, that’s a phone!”

“They can do everything a computer can. Keep laughing, wench.”

Micky couldn’t stop herself from giggling at the absurdity of this conversation. It took a moment to get control of herself. “I’m sorry about that. It’s still not a computer.”

Micky watched as her grandma slowly unlocked her phone, and proceeded to search for Mark’s messages. “Vicky!” Clearly, finding the messaging app was too complicated for the older woman. “Ask your millennial grandchild!” Micky wished she could put up two fingers and fade like her favorite gif. 

“Alright, let me see it. What are you looking for exactly?” Micky started scrolling through the apps menu on the phone. After a confusing back-and-forth with her grandma, she finally found exactly what the old woman wanted. Grandma Edna snatched the phone out of her hand, started to read out loud the parts she wanted Micky to hear. 

“I hate everything. I am filled with hate. You taught me that. I must end this. Your religion is the real devil. You worship Say-Tan.” The messages were all short sentences. There were about twelve of them, all about the same thing. Hate, religion, Satan. It was the same thing over and over.

“He’s said all the same things to me. But, he was pissed. You don’t get it. He’s throwing a big ass tantrum.” Micky was momentarily blinded after something collided with the back of her head. “What?” She blinked to clear her vision.

“Cuss in front of me again, and see what I do to you.” Vicky’s voice was icy and full of rage. Her wig was vibrating. Micky felt instantly bad, but she meant every word she said.

“Mommy, I’m not trying to be rude. It’s like y’all aren’t hearing me. The kind of help he needs is beyond me. Y’all keep asking me to talk to him. I already am. You keep asking me to figure out what’s wrong. I’m telling you. I don’t know what else you want.” Micky wanted to cry again, but she wouldn’t break this time. They needed to understand what she had to say. “My whole spirit has been messed up over this. I keep having anxiety attacks and I’m not sleeping. I can’t sacrifice my sanity for this. You need to put the work in.”

“So, what you’re saying is that you are abandoning your family?” Grandma Edna wouldn’t back off, and it was starting to really piss Micky off. 

“No, I am doing what I can. I listen to him. I hear him out. Anytime I suggest getting help for his anger, he snaps on me.”

“That doesn’t bother you?” Grandma Edna was trying to find a hole in what Micky was saying. She wanted Micky to feel responsible so that she didn’t have to deal with the fact that she had a hand in damaging a little boy who grew up to lash out.

“It bothers me every day. It bothers me just as much that neither of you seem to want to handle it yourselves.” Micky saw the hand coming this time, but she didn’t bother stopping it. It would just make her mother angrier. She let the sting of it wash over her, grounding her. Somehow, the pain brought her clarity. “If you hit me again, I will walk out that door, and you will never see me again.” She looked directly in her mother’s eyes as she spoke.

“If I hit you again, won’t nobody see you again. You’re being so disrespectful. Let your grandmother say what she has to say. Stop acting like that!” Micky wanted to leave. It occurred to her that nothing was stopping her from doing just that. Nothing stood between her and the door.

“Mikaela.” Her grandma spoke quietly. “You wanna give up on your brother, that’s something you have to deal with.”

“I speak to him at least once a week-”

“Aht aht. Don’t you dare open that yap of yours again.” That hot ball of frustration was growing in Micky’s chest. She felt herself shutting down. Her vision was blurring from unshed tears. Some parts of her felt hot, and other parts felt cold. This was the exact reason she didn’t want to be here. It would be worth being disowned to not have to deal with the bullshit anymore. 

“Listen to me! I’m only asking you to do something easy. Just see if you can text Karina and see if she will watch him for me.”

“You want me to help you spy on him for you?” Micky saw her mom’s hand twitch in the corner of her eye. Please do it. “No. I’m not asking his baby mama to spy for you.”

The look of absolute disdain on her grandmother’s face almost made Micky laugh. This lady had the audacity to be mad after a ridiculous request like that. The situation was a fucking comedy.

“Yeah, no. I’m not doing that.” Micky checked her phone. It was almost 9pm. “I have a date.”

“So that’s what it is. You got a man, and he’s telling you to act like this.” Vicky was grasping at straws with a reach like that.

“No. I’m single. We just ran into each other yesterday. I want to see him tonight.”

“It’s a little late for a respectable date, don’t you think?” The judgment in her mother’s voice didn’t touch Micky. She was already cold inside from the slaps to her head.

“It’s not gonna be respectable. It’s gonna be nasty, and hot, and wet. I’ll probably call him ‘Daddy’ a lot. I may even get on my knees and-” Micky was interrupted by the sound of glass breaking. Her mother had dropped a glass of wine on the floor.

“Get out of my house.” She said it so quietly that Micky barely heard the words. 

“Fine.” She scooped up her phone and purse, and walked away.

[criticaldaemons]

So a thought crossed my mind regarding the au. What do the daemons of druids do while in combat? Like Turion. Does he follow Keyleth into the fray? Does he try to stay out of it? Could he be hurt by her if she's in a fire elemental form? I'm curious.

Sorry it took a while to reply to this one, it's another one of those super interesting questions that I needed to put a load of thought into before answering.

For the most part, druid daemons are no different than anyone else's, so yes, Turion tends to follow Keyleth into the fray, to an extent, out of all the Vox Machina daemons, he's the one that enjoys fighting the least. So he tries more to stay out of it for those reasons. As for the elemental forms, a daemon is a part of you, the physicality of your own form doesn't matter so much. So if a druid became a fire elemental, their daemon would take on certain traits, like a resistance to fire. So your own daemon wouldn't be injured by it, but you could still hurt someone else's.

The most interesting thing for a druid's daemon is its ability to wildshape as you do; if Keyleth becomes Minxie, Turion also becomes a sabre-tooth in order to be able to keep up with her. It's the one way that he can still change forms. It also comes in handy when she wildshapes into a giant eagle, as he can become one and carry the other members of Vox Machina's daemons without the risk of Keyleth touching them.

This is different from polymorph, where a person's daemon disappears entirely, because you're no longer yourself and don't have the same soul.

[minilinzfiction]

File 1- Saint Mary's Carnival

Saint Mary was a small town in Colorado that was very friendly. Everybody knew eachother and it was located near a big city. Every fall Saint Mary held a festival to celebrate its founding.

The Saint Mary Carnival

The carnival was run by Evan’s family who originally founded the city but lost ownership in the late 1950's. The era of clowns and circus acts wasn’t very popular anymore but their carnival was still very popular. The circus was pretty basic; clowns, animals that do somewhat entertaining tricks, and aerial tricks. They thrived through the carnival attractions and the fact that they put a lot more money into staying with the times by having charging stations and VR booths and such. Most of the men came with their girlfriends or with friends to try their famous beer while the women went, surprisingly, to the circus. Specifically one clown that was very popular among women.

Minxy the star clown.

Or Xavier Evan’s if you will. He was a heartthrob at his core. He was the “ring leader”. At least on stage. He ran the circus behind the scenes and hosted every practice which went on for hours every weekday of late spring and all summer. But outside of practice, outside the makeup, he was very attractive in every way.

“I only joined to say I know him. Mr Evans is handsome under all of the clown makeup. If things weren’t the way they are I would’ve asked to be his girlfriend.” Natalia the trapeze artist swoons as she talks to the detective. A little Slavic girl who had brown hair and wore blue and gold body suit.

"Why don't you?" You asked trying to get information out of her.

"Well, he's attractive and all; very easy to talk to! But he has really bad anger issues." She mutters to you leaning in the try and keep it between the two of you even with the hustle and bustle of the other members around him.

"I heard they had to redo his tent because he went and tore it to shreds in one of his fits~" A cast member hums walking by with a large box. It was something that showed up on his record before you came here.

---

Xavier Evans

twenty-three years old

six feet and four and a half inches

A white and Puerto Rican man with a blue-dyed buzz cut that varies in design

Criminal Record:

Assault

Resisting Arrest

--

Although it wasn't it wasn't a long list of charges it was something you'd want to take under consideration for the situation.

You were called to the scene to investigate the disappearance of the victim Sarah Heart who was last seen with friends at the carnival. Her parents called the other day saying she wouldn't ignore them for two weeks straight without a text or anything of the matter. When investigated further her friends said that they hadn't heard from her since they all split ways after the carnival so here you are..

"Have you seen this girl?" You interrupted showing her a photo of the victim. The girl leans in and squints.

"I don't talk to guests. All of the cast other than Xavier and Carmen have to keep to themselves unless it's for directions." She answers with a sigh.

"Do you know why that is?" You ask for her to shake her head.

"If I were to give you a guess; it's probably because those two are the stars and they want to keep us from giving guests unwanted attention."

"No one has spoken to you at all guest-wise?" You ask raising a brow at her.

"Oh no! I've had kids say that my stunts are impressive and I'll thank them but in terms of the adults we can't say anything other than compliments and directions." she chuckles.

You write some information down and move to the other circus members who all give you an answer very similar to hers all leading back to the twins Xavier and Carmen. You leave the huge blue and white tent with a sigh as you are met with a girl with blue hair put in two messy low buns shaking hands with a man.

"Thank you, sir! I can't take all the praise though, my brother helped us keep us all in line so we were in top shape." She giggled. Her voice was soft and lively as they spoke.

"Do you have any more shows for the night?" He asked her with a shake of her head in response.

"No, but I actually have to meet with the cast and help pack up. I'm sorry sir." She hums for him to sigh and wish her good luck going further into the carnival.

"Hello, do you have time for me to ask you a couple of questions?" You ask for the girl to spin around. The girl was definitely Carmen. She had a round face covered in white paint. Two blue streaks went down her eyes and ended linear to the end of her nose matched with two blue crescent moons on her cheeks and a black-to-blue ombre lip. Her green eyes glistened in the bright lights as she nods.

"Did something happen?" She asked approaching you.

"Yes, in fact, I'm here looking for this girl; have you seen her?" You asked pulling out the photo of the victim. She looked between you and the photo before shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, I would remember a face that pretty. If I see her I'll let you know." She smiles for you to smile back.

"Do you think anyone else would know?" You ask for her for her to look around as she thought. She lightly tapped her shoe causing the bell at the curved end to jingle.

"Probably my brother but he always disappears after the show." She said.

You go further into the carnival and...

Check Xavier's tent

Check the bar

Walk around the carnival and prey you find him

[recitedemise]

@innchanted asked: ❛  i  want  to  tell  you everything .  ❜ (𝑺𝑶𝑭𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑵𝑺 STARTERS: still accepting.)

Of course she does! And Gale, simpering, wouldn't have it any other way.

As always, the wizard is humored. Notably so. Beside Ada—dizzying, wonderful Ada—there's been hardly a moment left wanting in thrills. She's a vessel of wonder, a daughter of awe, and to hold her affections feels a sliver like a dream—a tender one, summery, like spring-dripped honey. She can always move him, and he will always sway. And in terms of learning, there's no soul he favors half as eagerly; every page, in truth, is turned with haste.

The mind of a scholar... What predictable things.

"Color me intrigued," Gale answers, smile springing oh so brightly. Here, he leans against the countertop, rapt, and allows his voice to fill the empty inn. "Someone with your experience is sure to have a considerable wealth of stories—perhaps even several surrounding your daring misadventures. I offer you a trade: I'll share if you do. For as long as you'll me, consider me yours." Eyes sharp, the air of something daring, perhaps even minxy pools in his words. Taking a stool, Gale twirls his whiskey, easy, thoughtful and eyes flame-gold. "If you were of the mind that wizards are all work and no play, perish the thought. Believe it not, I was quite the hellion back in my youth, though, if I'm to reminisce, I'm keen on having you lead."