#pretty much all teenagers would be shit clerics

[tomurakii]

Look Kristen is a kid so its understandable and Ally is great and I'm sure has a plan for this. But Kristen should not be a cleric lol. I hope that after the wizard synogue incident Cassandra takes the Archfey deal to keep herself safe and Kristen loses her powers because honestly based on her RP that girl has NO wisdom. She has NEGATIVE wisdom. If you don't like the gods currently on offer but can't take responsibility for keeping a new one alive (because you're a kid) then you should just respec. Pick a charisma-based spellcaster class that doesn't require a bunch of work like the Int classes or responsibility like the Wis classes. Give up your soul to Fig (or just give it back to newly-Archfey Cassandra) for Warlock spells idk.

[dullgecko]

Fabian has a pretty strict rule about no fighting at his parties while drunk (he’s learned extensively from his dads crew that fighting while drunk can lead to a lot of people not involved getting hurt, especially when it involves weapons, which a lot of the people at his parties have)

He has broken that rule before exactly once, when some dude had been hitting on Riz (who was very used to this at Fabian’s parties, for reasons Riz could not wrap his head around people seemed to find him very attractive) and was not taking no for an answer, long story short the dude had grabbed at Riz’s neck, Riz scratched him and ran away to hide in Fabian’s room, texted the group chat what had happened, and approximately five seconds Fabian was beating the shit out of the dude after he refused to apologize

Fig shut down the party immediately after so they could take care of Riz, who was having a full blown panic attack (it was bad enough when his friends used do it while he was sober, having some rando drunk dude do it while he was also not fully sober set him off), and it took like an hour of watching a bad spy movie in what could only be described as a nest for him to calm down

Riz was very alarmed by Fabian’s face (the guy had managed to get a few good punches in, Fabian was very drunk) when he finally calmed down, Fabian had been cuddling with Riz so intently that Kristen couldn’t get him to put him down so she could heal him

(Needless to say the guy ended up at Mumple two days later)

Look, Riz would be the first one to admit that he might have been a bit rude to the guy when he didn't take the hint he wasn't interested the first two times. The rogue was trying to de-stress for once so he was a little drunk, and as a direct consequence his brain-to-mouth filter that usually stopped him from being quite so much of an asshole to people that were annoying him had shut down about half an hour ago.

He wasn't completely oblivious to people trying to flirt with him, he just usually pretended he was because it was offputting and would usually weird them out and make them stop after a while. This guy was persistant though and kept handing him more and more alchohol as the night went on, all of which got tossed into a nearby potted plant with just a little bit of sleight of hand because Riz could tell he was trying to get him hammered.

Riz had tried to disengage himself from the conversation about a dozen times by this point, not trying to be rude in case he did something to fuck up Kristens campaign, but the guy had followed him to another room and had crouched to box the goblin into a corner and continue chatting with him. It was getting weird, the guy clearly had a bit a goblin fetish, and when Riz decided to be less polite in his efforts to turn him down again the guy had snapped. Darting their hand out to grab the rogue and pin him against a wall because they were just chatting and he should give him a chance.

If they'd grabbed him by the shoulder rather than the neck it would have been fine, sure he would have been pissed and scratched him anyway but he might not have been quite so vicious about it. Fabian had been on the receiving end of one of Riz's ptsd flashbacks the first time it happened and the goblin had nearly blinded him and he liked the half elf. This guy though? The rogue was not pulling his punches the instant his hand touched his throat and went straight for the jugular with his claws.

The noise Riz made when he struck him was downright furious, an animalistic snarl in the back of his throat in comparison to the wet gasping noises currently being made by the orc teenager now crumpled on the floor. The rogue taking the oportunity to misty-step part-way out of the room before dashing to find a place to hide.

There had been enough clerics in the room that the guy had been healed before Riz even made it out the door, something that he only half noted in his flight because the idiot was able to breath well enough to call him some rather choice slurs before he was out of earshot. Riz accidentally left more than one bloody hand print on the handrail of the stairs as he made a beeline for the one place none of the party go-ers would be able to get to him. The rogue trying very hard not to hyperventilate as he slammed the door to Fabians room behind him and locked it from the inside.

He really didn't do well with people grabbing him by the neck, not after Killian killed him that way, and the smell of the blood on his shirt and hand was just making the panic even worse. But he still managed to dig his crystal out of his pocket when it started buzzing frantically.

There must have been plenty of witnesses to his freakout because it didn't take long for his crystal to start blowing up with texts. Starting with his friends asking if he'd attacked someone, then why, then apparently incredibly worried about him when they noticed bloody goblin handprints left behind from his paniced fleeing from the scene.

Riz could already feel himself on the edge of a full blown panic attack but his crystal wasn't going to stop blowing up until he answered. He didn't want to think about it but he needed to let them know what happened.

//Creep was hitting on me. Wouldn't take no for an answer. Grabbed me by the throat when i tried to leave... hiding now. Don't want to talk. Sorry.//

The goblin ended up ditching his shirt, vest and tie (too tight on his neck, need to change into something loose) on the floor of Fabians bathroom, scrubbing his hand and arm clean before stealing one of the fighters shirts and crawling under his bed to hide. The ridiculously silky duvet getting dragged underneath with him so he could cram himself into the corner against the wall and try not to hyperventilate too badly.

He wasn't doing a very good job of calming himself down, the roar of his heartbeat in his ears so loud that he didn't notice the door to Fabians room opening and closing as someone came in some time later. He DID however notice when someone shuffled under the bed with him, finding the edge of the blanket to half-crawl inside his bolt hole with him and grab him by the leg.

It was almost pitch-black in his little nest but his dark vision was good enough that he could see Fabian with total clarity as he crawled further inside until he was tucked up next to the goblin. Riz's ears flicking up in surprise and momuntarily stalling his panic attack when he noticed the quickly purpleing bruise on the fighters cheek. His concern for his friend overriding the part of his brain that was freaking out as he pivoted to fussing over the half elf instead.

"Fabian what the fuck happened?"

"Oh I beat up an orc, 'nd now ''m coming to check on you." Fabian grinned, though it was obvious he was very drunk by the slurring of his speech and the drooping of his ears. "Parties over. Fig 'n Gorgug are tossin' everyone out."

"Ah." The rogue blinked, rubbing a hand gently around the bruising and wishing he had some healing magic. "Gods he got you good."

"Y'should see the other guy." Fabian looked rather pleased with himself, shifting to wrap his arms around the goblin and use his stomach as a pillow. The action making Riz huff as the half elfs weight squished him slightly.... though it was making him feel a bit better. Like an overly warm weighted blanket.

[sketchstudios07]

I haven't posted art in some time, but here, have some of my D&D ocs interacting with the dungeon meshi party, because it's fun! I drew them with the ones i feel like they're the most similar to either physically or personality-wise. I doubt many people will see, but i'd love to see more people doing this. Here we go!! :}

Marcille and Anne (she/her). She's an elf cleric and also my first character ever! So there isn't much to say about her. I feel like she's just this calm presence, Marcille could have some of that comfort every now and then. They'd definetly bond over hair care and magic, despite working in different fields. In a way, I feel like Marcille would find Anne similar to Falin, or like an older and wiser version of her. Anne could also give some advice on the whole "being scared of death thing", having a short-lived partner and all.

Chilchuck and Heron (he/him), tiny dads! Heron is (obviously) a halfling, but for his class he's actually a homebrew pirate! I think they have plenty of stuff in common to talk about, both of them are often made fun of by their parties for their size, which is fun. They're also both dads, only Chilchuck has 3 girls (4 if you count Izutsumi) and Heron has 4 boys, maybe they'd argue over what's better, idk. Chilchuck is grumpier, but i feel like both have that "Oh my god what are you doing!? Are you an idiot?" attitude when the party does their shenanigans. These two would be good friends, maybe Chil is a bit envious of Heron's stable family though

Laios and Deliz (he/him). Deliz is the character i've been playing the longest, he's a kalashtar sorcerer (with some druid levels). I think it's not hard to tell that they'd bond over hyperfixations. I doubt Laios would be able to answer Deliz's questions, but there's plenty of cool monster stuff to talk about! I wonder what Laios would think about all the weird creatures that possess and infect people in this other world. These two would be great friends, no judgement about "weird" behaviors, just vibes. I also feel like Laios would be super interested in what a "kalashtar" even is, or how powerful Deliz is compared to most adventurers he knows, despite him being so young (21).

Izutsumi and Spark (she/her). The cat girls! Spark is a tabaxi sorcerer that is also a literal child, so I feel like Izustumi would be done with her shit really fast lmao. Kind of like, when a child wants to impress a teenager, but they keep annoying them? Exactly that. Doesn't help that Spark is pretty energetic too. At one point or another though, they'd grow on each other. Izutsumi would never admit it though

Senshi and Lilium (she/they). Not much in common between these two, Lilium is a tiefling druid and Senshi is like, a fighter(?) dwarf, buut they'd get along really well. I feel like senshi would be the calm and nurturing figure this anxious little lesbian needs. She's been through a lot and needs a place to rest every now and then, and maybe drinking a cup of tea with some warm food is the right choice after some adventuring, right? (Also can you tell i didn't wanna draw Senshi's helmet? ITS SO HARD TO DO SIDEWAYS AND I DIDNT FIND ANY REFERENCES)

And a little bonus:

(Azzazel (they/any) is my friends character, they'd spark a whole other convo w/ Laios tbh)

[keldae]

Get To Know Your Tav

Tagged by the lovely @starknstarwars -- thank you! <3 Throwing a tag out to whoever has also been infected with the BG3 brainrot and wants to gush about their babies. ;)

Leeeeet's talk about Deviali Nulys, aka Devi!

What is your tav’s favorite weapon?

Devi's first weapon is her words. She's a smooth talker, and rolls decently high (most of the time) on her persuasion checks! She can usually talk her way out of trouble. Second-favourite weapons are her knives. Her brother Jehn taught her how to fight with daggers when she was eight or so, and she learned to keep a backup pair of knives in her boots/in her inventory for if she ever lost her main weapons.

style of combat?

DIRTY. Devi has no aversions to biting (unless it's a goblin... eww.), kicking, elbowing, ambushing her foes, or throwing sand/mud/warg shit/whatever at her enemies. If it gives her an edge, she'll take it! Considering she's a Smol for a half-Elf, it's easy to push her around or physically overwhelm her -- best to take down her bigger enemies quickly and decisively. She's picked up using a bow over the course of her adventure, so she can shoot with pretty good aim (and loooooves her lightning arrows), but she would rather use her knives.

most prized possession?

Remember those backup daggers Devi keeps in her boots? Those were a gift on her tenth birthday from Jehn -- and after he ran away from home, they were all she had left of him. She would rather cut her ears off than give those up! Her lockpicks have gotten her into (and out of) more than a few tight spots too. She learned how to play the violin as a teenager, but her asshole of a father destroyed her violin that Jehn had stolen for her; she picks up a new violin in Act I, and it's a prized possession now.

deepest desire?

She wants answers for what happened to her mother, who disappeared when she was about five. She has her suspicions, but nothing she can confirm. (She also wants her father and some of his friends to die slowly and painfully.)

And after the events of the game, she wants to personally murder Shar, and to punch Mystra in the face, godhood status be damned.

guilty pleasure?

Trashy bodice-ripping romance stories. She and Shadowheart compare notes regularly. ;) Even if she struggles to read easily, thanks to her childhood lack of education, she puts in the effort for those!

best-kept secret?

Pre-game: She's a SA survivor, and she's got some trauma from that. But she keeps that secret under wraps -- she won't talk about it unless she absolutely has to. (Honestly, this girl needed therapy even before the game.) Post-game: Look, she has no idea who drew a large mustache on every statue of Mystra in the Lower City, but she wishes she could kiss that person on the mouth, honest, Mister Interrogating Cleric! (It was totally her, with Astarion's help. Gale pretends he doesn't know anything about it. Mystra is not amused.)

greatest strength?

Her loyalty. She trusts very few people, but those whom she trusts and loves, she is very much the ride-or-die friend. (See also: why she wants to kill Shar and punch Mystra.)

fatal flaw?

Her temper and her insecurities. She is a wee bit fiery and will throw hands when provoked. And she's so afraid of being abandoned again that she tries to give off the impression that she's self-sufficient and doesn't need anyone's help -- she won't accept help until she either trusts someone (which, again, doesn't come easily for her) or she's desperate.

favourite smell?

Pre-game: flowers in the public parks in the Lower City, the scent of tea steeping. Post-game: Gale, the books in his library, and the flowers he frequently brings home for her since he knows she loves them.

favourite spell or cantrip?

She doesn't have access to any spells of her own (unless I up the difficulty level of my game enough to multi-class her as a bard)! But she highly appreciates a good usage of Vicious Mockery.

pet peeve?

Cracking knuckles. She haaaaaaates that sound.

bad habit?

She does not put things away correctly. She has a bad habit of leaving whatever she's reading/playing with/working on out in the open and forgetting about it until it's in the way. It drives Gale bonkers. She also swears like a pirate... and can drink like one, too.

hidden talent?

She's an excellent violin player, and can sing surprisingly well! The rest of the Tadfools figured out she can sing quite by accident after a drink-off at the tiefling party in their camp during Act I. She doesn't sing often, since she's very self-conscious about her voice, but her friends try to get her to sing something for them regularly. She also claims she hasn't yet met the lock that she can't pick. ;)

leisure activity?

Playing new tunes on her violin. She can't read music very well, but she can remember a tune like nobody's business -- if she hears a song once or twice, she'll probably remember it.

favourite drink?

She used to just get the cheap wine at the taverns that she frequented, but Gale's gotten her used to the finer tastes in life, so she's grown to appreciate the good wine in his cellar. She also likes tea in the mornings!

comfort food?

Her favourite food is pumpkin soup, from one itty-bitty tavern in the Lower City. Gale has learned to replicate it perfectly, much to her delight.

favourite person(s)?

Gale, for obvious reasons.

Her older half-brother, Jehn (and by extension, his partner, Ferrus).

Shadowheart, Wyll, Astarion, and Karlach become her best non-romantic friends over the course of their adventure.

Do Scratch and the owlbear cub (who she and Halsin name Garmus) count?

favoured display of affection (platonic and/or romantic)?

She's very touchy with the people she loves. With her platonic friends or her brother, she'll lean on them, or nudge them, or sometimes kiss their cheeks if she's feeling very touchy. With Gale, she'll almost always be in contact with him in some way, whether that's leaning against him, or playing with his hair, or kissing him -- his lips, his cheek, his neck, whatever.

fondest childhood memory?

She barely remembers her Elf mother, but she can remember one day when she was curled up on her mother's lap, Jehn sitting on the floor beside them, and listening to her mother sing a song in her native tongue. She doesn't clearly remember the lyrics anymore, but she can just remember the tune, and she remembers how comfortable and safe she felt in her mama's arms with her big brother right there.

free-response! Is there anything else about your Tav you’d like to share?

I think Devi is trying to learn magic post-game in Waterdeep! She won't enrol in the Academy, but she does try to get Gale to teach her some basic spells.

[missallanea-archive]

a "brief," stupid, and utterly useless guide to the muses on this blog:

( under a cut because of length )

BABYDOLL. mental patient locked away in an asylum by her step-father. keeps falling further down the rabbit hole that is her mind in order to escape from reality. her verses are the hardest to navigate because all three of her canon verses act like complete aus from one another. sweet girl but will fucking end you if you're a creep.

CARRIE WHITE. patron saint of the bullied. powerful telekinetic with a whole hell load of religious trauma. pun intended. generally a sweet kid, if not extremely shy and socially awkward. should you meet her after her death, she can be something of a vengeful spirit, but she honestly just needs a hug and a cheese sandwich.

CATIANA FREESPARK. swashbuckler rogue turned tempest cleric. she's confused about how that happened too. died fairly recently, but she got better. once a pirate, always a pirate. sometimes she talks to her god in her dreams but she's trying to break that habit because some wires are getting crossed now and then between her god and a sea goddess who doesn't seem on her side. will steal your shit.

FISH EYE. just a fish who wants to be a real boy. granted form by questionable magic. searching for a magical pegasus that hides in pure dreams. yes, it's just as confusing as it sounds. easily swayed by pretty things and handsome men.

LIAN NICHANG. a wuxia queen. her hair turned white because men are the worst, and yes, she is sensitive about it. lives alone on a mountain like the grinch and is about as good a neighbor as him too. only really comes down to get rid of people who are harassing the village at the base of the mountain that leaves her the fuck alone. master swordsman. not actually a witch or a demon, no matter what people call her.

LUNA. magical moon cat. has a crescent moon bald spot on her forehead. trying to keep the protectors of the universe on track but they're just teenage girls so it goes about as well as you would expect. really tired of being the voice of reason but this is what she signed up for.

LUNASOL GALANODEL. honestly, the worst. burned down her abusive childhood home with her brother. basically sold her soul to the queen of air and darkness. pretends to be sweet but she is cruel and cold. typical elvish attitude toward other races, too. really, really likes flowers.

MARINETTE DUPAIN-CHENG. my god she is doing her best. normal girl turned superhero turned guardian of magical artifacts. just needs one day of peace ffs. currently going through a crisis due to teenage romance and also ptsd. always smells like fresh baked bread which is a plus.

MIYU. vampire who tried to run from her destiny and made it worse. has to hunt down god-demons called shinma that she accidentally let escape. literally cannot die until she finishes her job, and she would very much like it to be over now. usually accompanied by her mask wearing servant larva. she's cute and cruel in equal parts.

NATHALIE SANCOEUR. for fuck's sake she needs a vacation. and a raise. personal assistant to a supervillain. seriously questioning that relationship at this point. literally dying. trying to beat the current record holder for most akumatizations. she's pretty and could kick my ass.

RIZA HAWKEYE. military sharpshooter and right-hand-woman of the guy who wants to takeover the military. likes like two people and her dog. usually smells like gun oil but it's not unpleasant. has no sense of self-preservation and will definitely die for the people she cares about. does not get paid enough.

ROGUE. the poster child for 'look don't touch.' mutant and working on the proud part. literally too powerful for her own good. comes with the added bonus of her cajun husband who makes things explode by touching them. the og power couple.

RYOKO HAKUBI. half alien, half goddess, all trouble. crash landed on earth 700-or-so years ago after a space battle with the guy she tried to steal a tree from. recently resurrected and free from the mind control that made her destroy 28 planets. she's doing her best okay?

RYUKO MATOI. teenage girl who wants to fight. has a magical schoolgirl uniform powered by her blood. wields a giant scissor. could kick your ass, could kick my ass, could kick her own ass. secretly a softie.

SADAKO YAMAMURA. a very, very angry ghost with the telepathic ability to project her thoughts onto physical media. the switch to the digital era has not slowed down her curse whatsoever but she misses VHS tapes. very wet. is honestly just a scared young woman who doesn't understand why bad things happened to her. will fucking kill you if given the chance.

TABITHA DELAINE. monster hunter and general know-it-all. was part of a cult at one point but she doesn't want to talk about it. lowkey a witch but tries to use her magic sparingly. the biggest lesbian you will ever meet, next to her girlfriend van. lives in van's van.

VEX'AHLIA. ranger and rogue. sneaky and shooty. just trying not to die again, thank you very much. once stabbed a tree because it made moves on her. the champion of a god. will probably call you darling and wink at you. also, she has a bear named trinket and a husband with too many names for me to bother listing here.

[more-gremlin-than-fae]

So, fun story, I grew up in a mainly white, upper middle class neighbourhood in Canada (living on that street: a dentist, two generations of doctors, three lawyers, a Supreme Court judge, the head of the nearby university's law school, the Japanese Consul). We had semi regular break-ins and everybody knew not to leave shit in the car if you were parking on the street overnight.

We were near a couple of parks and the city doesn't light parks in the suburbs. Everybody also knew where the drug deals went down (on the unlit edges of the park) and by extension where not to take the dog if it was late enough. And what to look out for if you did have to take the dog out so that you knew when to turn around early so you couldn't have seen anything. A house near the park became a grow-up at least 4 times and got raided 4 times in the 15 or so years we lived there. Stolen cars were regularly left on the streets around there.

Man, if you think that shit didn't get reported to the cops, you're dreaming. They'd show up 2 or 3 days later, maybe. It would take months, sometimes years, for them to do anything about the grow-op house when it was turned, yet again, into what was very obviously a grow-op. It took years to get street lights installed on the drug dealer's corner of the park.

This is a neighbourhood where the houses are worth $1 million plus, by the way.

The only time the cops even showed up is when the no-longer-by-then-resident abusive asshole's teenage son was caught stringing fishing wire across the bike paths in the woods at neck height. At that point, they showed up and interviewed everybody, especially if they had a record of you calling them about something to do with this kid or his dad.

Anyway, that's all besides the point except that cops are pretty much useless if you live in the suburbs. Their response time is not fast even for a crime in progress.

My point is that community only goes so far, everybody on our street knew everybody else's business. Break-ins generally happened on long weekends when most of the neighbourhood was away, whether for the day or the whole weekend.

Anyone breaking into your house doesn't want you to be there, it's way less risky for them if nobody's home.

The lady in that video is doing her absolute best to make it look like nobody's home after her husband leaves out the front door with a big old suitcase so it's basically showcasing exactly what not to do in more ways than one. If you're worried about break-ins, you're better off not changing your visible routine in any way, no matter who's home.

I live alone and I do close my blinds at night. And sometimes leave them closed during the day, as randomly as I can. If I'm away there's no easy way to tell from the position of my blinds or curtains. I also have almost all of my lights on a timer, they turn on at sunset, they turn off at bedtime. And I don't generally turn them off before the timed shut off even when I'm home. (This is also a way to make me aware that it is Time For Bed, it's part of my sleep hygiene).

Also, either get an alarm system or at least steal somebody's ADT lawn sign. Even if you never arm the thing, you're less likely to get broken if it looks like you have a monitored alarm system. You've upped the basic level of difficulty to get in and that's usually enough to deter a break-in.

You should keep a flashlight in your nightstand all the time, but that's in case of power outages.

A good whistle will deafen somebody briefly if you blow it right in their ear. And by "good whistle" I mean like a Fox40 - the kind of thing that's intended to get the attention of the Coast Guard from miles away - not a piddly little pea whistle. But the main purpose of a whistle as a self-defense tool is actually community, its primary purpose is to get the attention of anyone nearby that might be able to help. Keeping one under your pillow is pointless unless you're a 5th level Cleric and it's how you summon your Spirit Guardians.

[captainsspnanon]

C3E15 - reaction

A quick write up of my thoughts the day after I watched it

I’m surprised that there wasn’t more of a RP moment playing off of Dorian not being there any more, but I’m also not complaining? Robbie was great and I, like everyone else in the world, really enjoyed him being there, but with it just being the main crew now, it just feels GOOD.  Hard to explain.

Cuddle piles are becoming even more canonized.  I love this with my whole heart.

WOODEN HAND!!!  I feel like it’s one of the things that artists get for reference poses?  But this just makes me love this group of friends so much.

OH SHIT the Green Seekers.  And yes, a description of a lanky half-orc did 100% make me wonder if they were running in to Fjord, which would have been SUCH a surprise!

A druid and a ranger??  Coooool.

This whole scene did not go ANYWHERE that I thought it was going to go!  I fully felt like the Green Seekers were antagonists!  Silly me for forgetting that Essek was supposed to be an antagonist and how the crew doesn’t care about that XD. Now I’m fully on board with the Green Seekers becoming allies.  In that vein though, it’s actually really nice how the party is confronted by people that are designed to not be trustworthy, and rather quickly ends up trusting them, at least to some level.  It’s a very big change from the M9, and I really am enjoying it.  It also feels very natural for the party, very in character, and doesn’t feel like the players are thinking ‘oh we have to act differently from the last campaign’

Speaking of, this episode is once again just full on silly and chaotic out of character.  Matt mentioned in his interview and I 100% agree, the players just feel like they are full on shaking off the M9’s darkness and grasping the goofs with both hands.  I really am loving it!  As much as I love the M9 (and I DO), it’s delightful to see everyone just completely giddy CONSTANTLY.  Even though it’s the same group actually sitting down and playing, it almost feels like a new one, just from the out of character tone that they have.

Bell’s Hells has grown on me.  It didn’t take anywhere near as long as I expected for that to happen XD

Gus and Ogdes, OMG. (no crew, don’t try and force them back together, let exes be exes) this is actual couples therapy happening right now and I CAN’T. SAM.  Massive kudos to Matt, which they even give him ooc, for RPing that entire scene so incredibly well!  Though I will say!  First introduction to Ogdes and that’s one of the very very rare time that Matt introduces an accent and then falls out of it very quickly. Got it fixed over the break though, and then Ogdes stayed in his accent.

The way they ‘interrogate’ Shotan makes it very clear that while VM, M9, and BH are all levels of fuckery, it’s very different FLAVORS of fuckery and fucking up.

Combat!   Not much to say, it’s combat.  Gus feels a little more wizard and less druid, but I think that’s just because I equate fireball and fire bolt so heavily to Caleb.

Aura of Vitality is fucking AMAZING, and holy shit Laura is living her best life ragging on Sam.  She’s been holding in these cleric comments for aaages and finally has the chance to dish them out and I love it!

CLIFFHANGER with what will probably be a 2 to 3 hour combat next week.

Controversial stuff below, stop now to not read wank/discourse

Taliesin, stop being fucking ‘coy’ and just come out with what the rages are already. I’ve lost my patience with him keeping them so secret.

Ashton is also losing me again.  They’re falling into Taliesin’s comfort genre-aware characters.  Which wouldn’t be a problem except he’s always playing his PCs as genre-aware.  This is SUPER controversial to say, I know, but I feel like Taliesin’s PCs are pretty consistently style over substance.  And I’m starting to wonder if it’s just an RPing weakness on Taliesin’s side.  Even though I adore Caduceus, I’m really starting to feel that most of his PCs are very ‘samey’.  Percy, Molly,  Ashton, The Owlbear, Mallory, his teenage asshole elf from the Critmas oneshot, they are different flavors of like, one to two types of characters.

I always thought that Ashley was the weakest for the RP (and that’s not a dig at her by any means!  The table is filled with fucking AMAZING Rpers!) because she tends to ‘stutter’ on her thoughts, lots of ums and ers, but Pike, Yasha, and Fearne are very different PCs with very different feels!  I’m now wondering if Taliesin is actually the weakest because it’s hard for him to step outside of his comfort zone of RPing.  He’s good at what he does!  But he doesn’t change it up.  Cad was the biggest change, and there’s definitely aspects of Cad that are similar to Percy and Molly.

I still love Tal, I just want him to bring in something new, something that really feels new.

Granted, we’re only 15 episodes in.  We’ve got a full campaign for Ashton to grow, but this is just my feelings for now.

@suicidallyreckless

[lokidrabbles]

Perfect Fit (Loki x Reader)

Peter Parker tells reader about what Loki thinks of them.

A/N: Another oneshot, this time featuring Spiderman as the medium for Reader and Loki. Also, my headcanon remains that Loki refers to Peter as Spider Boy. As always, Gender Neutral Reader!

Warnings: None! Fluff n’ such!

Your eyes peered up from your paperwork to catch sight of the fidgeting teen sitting in front of your desk. You empathized with him. It was always some sort of hell fire when Tony or any of the Avengers reprimanded one of the outlier members for failing to complete a mission in time, or failing to follow a inward duty to protect others. Although the consequences of the damage the young Spiderman had left behind were very minimal (extensive property damage, but no one seriously hurt), Tony still upheld his duty as Peter’s pseudo guardian, and laid it hard on him.

As part of the process, you were in charge of filling all the damage reports and costs left behind by the throws of battle, and Tony ordered Peter to witness the extent of his mistake through financial eyes. Or maybe through boring clerical work. Whatever the matter, Peter looked absolutely nervous, probably dreading to hear just how much his antics caused the city (or Tony).

“You know I’m not actually going to tell you how much cash Tony is going to have to fork out, right?” You asked him, causing him to jump slightly.

“What, really? I mean, are you sure? ‘Cus I’m sure Mr. Stark wanted me to, uh, witness the depth of my carelessness.” He stuttered in response.

“I mean yes, you definitely want to be more cautious. But this, in comparison to Tony’s own damage cost analysis, is almost nothing. I’m sure this is just his weird way of wanting to make sure you’re keeping the citizens and yourself safe out there. Also I feel if I tell you, you’re going to be harder on yourself than you need to be.”

Peter let out a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that. I really am sorry about what happened, I did try to be as careful as I could.”

“I’m sure you did kid. The important thing is that building was insured, and that no one was seriously hurt. You good?”

“Yes, yes!” He responded hastily, and you almost felt the weight being lifted from his shoulders. “I’m just glad you’re just as nice as Mr. Loki mentioned you to be.”

You shot a quizzical look at Peter. “Uh, Mr. Loki?”

“Well, yeah? Mr. Thor’s brother? I’ve seen you both together a lot here at the facility.”

Of course you knew who he was talking about, but the fact that Loki made his chipper self into this conversation was odd at best. From your documentation, you found out Loki had been assigned to this small escapade in the outskirts of the city. It actually made you content to see Tony’s mistrust in him begin to dwindle, allowing him to participate in the Avenger’s daily heroism. You could almost see his sour face once he found out this precise squad would be lead by Tony himself. But it made sense.

“What’s Mr. Loki doing gossiping about me to you?” You asked teasingly.

“Nothing bad! I can swear by that!” Peter said, putting his hands up in defense. “I think he just wanted me to feel better.”

“That’s a good one kid.” You chuckled. “It’s a miracle on it’s own to have Loki talk one word to anyone. You have no idea how long it took me to have him say a simple hello to me.”

“Really?” Peter asked, slowly pulling his hands down. “I know Mr. Loki is always very reserved, and he was a little scary at first. But he’s actually kind of, really nice too.”

“You must have a very skewed definition of nice.” You said sarcastically. You jested however. You had experienced Loki’s ‘niceness’ firsthand, in his own bizarre way. Loki’s form of nice didn’t really fall under your typical definition of it. Nice was, for example, telling someone thank you, bringing thoughtful gifts, buying someone lunch. Loki’s nice more so included telling you that you were being stupid and foolish for failing to believe in yourself, and that you should be ashamed of yourself, blah blah blah. He got the right intention, but his delivery was horrible. You cringed at the thought of poor little Peter having to go through that.

“I mean, maybe? He was very helpful during the mission, and his strategy at the whole thing. I was like, wow! He moved so fast in between everything, I had such a hard time keeping up. Though, maybe that’s why I got so distracted in the first place.” He sighed, still blatantly defeated for his error.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself though. For what it is, I think you’re a pretty talented kid too.” You said with a toothy smile. “Loki’s just a big show off though.”

He laughed in a much more relaxed manner. “Thanks, that means a lot. But I must have really taken it hard when Mr. Stark raised his voice at me. Mr. Loki approached me and told me I’d be sent over to your department and how you’d be very welcoming, nice and easygoing.”

You were slightly irritated at how Loki found it so easy to tell Peter all these likeable things about you, yet still failed to do so with you in person. Yet, you knew his reason’s to do so with Peter. Again, Loki wasn’t the most approachable man in the universe, but that didn’t mean he was completely heartless. His words with Peter, while few, were carefully chose to make the young teen feel less anxious. You mentally reminded yourself to give a him a big smooch the next time you saw him.

“I’m actually really happy to hear that.” You said, leaning against the back of your chair. “It looks like he found someone who he’s comfortable with, so that gives me some peace at mind.”

Peter became obviously confused at your comment. “I’m not sure I get that.”

“You said it best at first. He’s a scary fella. But it seems you got to him somehow. So trust me, from now on you got another set of eyes keeping watch of you, making sure you’re safe out there.”

“Actually, I think that make’s me a little more nervous.” He said sheepishly.

“Oh well yeah, be very wary of the God of Mischief.” You said ominously, followed by a snort and giggle.

“Oh, wait. Are you and Mr. Loki dating?”

Your giggles soon stopped, as your mouth remained agape in shock. Again, this was not where you expected a conversation about Loki to go to. You now felt like the nervous teenager in the room instead. Through its entirety, both you and Loki did well at keeping the relationship under wraps, understanding the impending chaos that would ensue if anyone (Tony and Thor) would find out. Well, maybe Loki could care less, but you still had a job and income to maintain. While inner work relationships were not uncommon here, there might be some adherence to having a relationship with someone who used to be on the blacklist.

“No.” You said lowly. Even you wouldn’t have believed that no.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate anything like that. It’s just, Mr. Loki seemed to have talked fondly of you, and I do see you both together quite a bit. Also you both look really good together, but like not to mean you are dating or anything!”

“Okay Peter! I think we’re done here. I’ll take care of the rest, tell Tony you learned your lesson and all BS, and you can be on your merry little way, yes?” You said, rummaging through you documents, and handing Peter a crumpled up slip with your signature on it.

Peter took the slip slowly, unsure of what he hand uncovered with his innocent introspection. “Are you okay?”

“I’m super.” You feigned through a false smile. “Thanks for dropping by, but I got some more work to do.”

The young teen, still bewildered by your sudden agitation, took it for nothing and soon tip toed out of your small office. You let out a heavy breath and slumped in your chair. It seemed you were in the clear for now, and you figured Peter would be a smart kid and avoid spreading unnecessary rumors. Also for the sole fact that his life would be at risk if Loki were to ever find out he’d tattle at Tony. Still, your mind raced back to the encounter Peter had told you about, and how Loki made a worthwhile impression on the young teen. It warmed your heart knowing someone else seemed to have approved of your gloomy partner.

Towards the end of your shift, you were visited by said partner in efforts to soon spend a relaxing evening at your home. Loki casually seated himself on the seat in front of your desk, arms crossed over his chest.

“I hear the Spider boy paid you a little visit?” He asked playfully.

“He did in fact. He’s a sweet kid.” You responded, eye still glued on your computer screen. “A little naive, but sweet.”

“Stark was relentless on him today. Dare I say, I felt sorry for the lad. He looked like a scared puppy.”

You hummed in a chipper manner. “Yeah, he told me all about it. He also told me how Mr.Loki made him feel a whole lot better today.”

You heard Loki grunt, a way for him to avoid talking about it. You figured it was still awkward for him to hear about his ‘good deeds’ with the type of shit he’s gone through.

“He was very impressed by your skills set. You may have a little fan boy in the making.” You grinned, finally closing your laptop. “I think we should adopt him as our child.”

“You’re hysterical.” He responded flatly.

“I’m mad at you though.” You said as you began to gather your belongings.

Loki raised an eyebrow at you. “Pray tell why?”

“How come you tell Peter all of these nice things about me, yet you always avoid doing so to my face?”

Loki remained quiet, draw back by the nature of your question. You meant to approach the subject in a playful manner, still understanding how Loki had his own special way of showing affection. Yet, you saw how Loki rested his chin at the top of his knuckles, analyzing and concocting an appropriate answer. He looked adorable.

“I suppose I really haven’t done so.” He said admittedly. “What would you like to hear?”

You felt your face heat up. “It doesn’t really work if I tell you what I want to hear. Also, that’s embarrassing.”

“Ah. Of course.”

“Peter told me all the good things though.” You began. “It does make me happy that you think that way about me, instead of an absolute bother.”

He rolled his eyes. “I do hate your incessant ability to self-deprecate. However, everything else the Spider boy mentioned is absolutely true.”

“How lovely to hear.”

Loki stood up and began assisting you with your bags and belongings. You smiled with a strong sense of satisfaction, promptly turning off the lights in your office.

“I also forgot to mention to him that you’re amazing, and incredible.” He whispered behind you. “That I love your smile, and I love how your hand fits so well into mine. That I always look forward to seeing your bright eyes every single day, that I-”

You felt your lips begin to twist in both joy and uneasiness. You jabbed Loki slightly at his side, urging to promptly stop before you explore. “Cut it out. I can’t tolerate this level of cheesiness.”

He smirked mischievously at you. “Then I will have to draw out my admiration for you with the Spider boy if you aren’t able to tolerate it. I’m sure he would be more than happy to hear about it.”

“You better fucking not.”

---

Later in the evening, a young Peter Parker, overseeing the block from the top of a building, took note of Mr. Loki firmly leaving the facility with you, hands hidden, side by side. Upon further inspection, Peter deducted it would be best to keep quiet about this encounter, sensing how distressed you had been about it earlier today. He felt correct about his assumption however; both you and Loki looked good together.

[alarawriting]

Inktober 2020 #21: Sleep

Based on the prompt from @writing-prompt-s, “The worst thing a wizard can do is sleep-talk.”

---------------------------------

Words spoken by a person without the power thrumming through their veins were just words. Even the Words of Change, the secret language the universe was built in, meant nothing to the people without the power. But for the people who had it, words needed to be guarded carefully. “Umhaha”, for instance, unraveled thread. An easy mistake to make; almost every young wizard had a story about accidentally rendering themselves and everyone in the room with them naked, just by laughing a certain way after saying the word “Um.”

“Kefzhizoss” should have been a word that no one would ever say unless they meant to say it.

The young man was crumpled up as small as a human could make himself, on the bench in the police wagon. No one had confiscated the amulet of protection from his neck; like most such amulets, it wouldn’t come off while he was under emotional stress, pain or fear. But he was under a silencing charm, and the amulet didn’t protect him from being silenced.

The cleric was arguing with the detective on the scene. “It’s obvious he didn’t mean to do this,” he said, waving his hand at the devastation of what had been the young man’s home, with his parents and siblings. The broken remains of the wards that had contained the word, made sure the destruction spread no farther than their property, would have stopped the word if it hadn’t been spoken within their house, and there were other fragmentary charms present. One to prevent fire. One that would probably have protected books from water damage. There was one, still intact, that purified air as it went into the lungs of birds.

There were no birds in the wreckage, or bird cages. Neither were there human corpses, or any human beds, except for the one the young man had laid in. The destruction had been too thorough.

“Look, Elimiss, maybe I agree with you. Could be accidental sleeptalking. But four people are dead, and the damage was clearly done by the Devastating Word, and the only survivor’s a wizard. You see why I can’t just let him go, right?”

Tears ran down the young man’s cheeks, but there was nothing physically wrong with him. Either he was tremendously talented for one so young, or one or both of his parents had been very skilled wizards, to have created an amulet that had perfectly protected him and the bed he had been found on from the Devastating Word. It didn’t matter anymore.

“He’s traumatized! He needs a temple, not to be held indefinitely under a silencing charm—”

“Oh, for the love of all your gods, the kid can still read and write. But I can’t let a man who killed his entire family just traipse off to a temple to have his trauma healed. Did it occur to you that maybe a guy who killed his parents and brother and sister maybe deserves to have some trauma?”

“It was obviously an accident! He was wearing pajama pants, for the love of Merenethe Who Heals All Wounds!  What kind of devious, evil killer wears pajama pants and lays down in bed before blasting his entire home to ruin?”

“The kind who knows that people like you will assume it was an accident from that,” the detective said sharply. She was irritated that the cleric had felt the need to provide his god’s entire name, like he was offended that she’d invoked all his gods instead of his specific patron. “He needs to be interrogated, and we can’t let him speak until he’s told us his story.”

The man raised a tear-streaked face, brought up his cuffed hands, and with just one of them, signed, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again. Both hands, he might have been trying a sigil, though the detective was an experienced enough wizard herself to catch that before it accomplished anything, if he’d tried it. One hand, it was obviously sign, and she relaxed. Only about half of all wizards knew some kind of sign language, which was stupid given the control wizards needed to keep on their speech. Sigils were much more complicated and couldn’t be done accidentally.

“Babababawa” brought a light, misting rain… into a building, if that’s where the wizard said it. It was a hazard of raising wizard babies, that some of them came into their power so early they couldn’t really talk yet, and their baby babble could very easily accidentally land on that one. “Sh’shoot,” an expression thaumnulls might say any time if they started to say “shit”, thought better of it, and instead said “shoot” as a full word without just following from the original sh – more than one wizard teenager had been found that way, growing up among thaumnulls, not knowing what they shouldn’t say. It made existing electrical current surge in power, and could very well blow every circuit in a house, or start a fire. “Kolonel” was a big problem with people learning the language as adults, who didn’t know how to not pronounce the word “colonel”. The only thing it did was create an impenetrable darkness that flowed out to the nearest boundary, if indoors, and a mile or two outdoors, until a wizard said “Kohanoel” to turn it off and restore the light… but people who’d said it by accident and hadn’t known they were wizards didn’t know how to turn it off.

The Devastating Word, however – the detective, being a wizard, did not even think the syllables to herself – was commonly thought to be impossible to say by accident. The “zh” sound wasn’t even common in this language; most native speakers around here wouldn’t even make that sound in their sleep. And here was Elimiss, the mandated social worker who worked with the cops to de-escalate situations and help folks with mental illnesses, insisting that obviously the man – boy, really, he probably wasn’t even out of college – had said it in his sleep, because that was what the plainly traumatized boy had told the cops when they’d arrived. Because a perp couldn’t possibly carefully plan out the excuse he’d use to get treated like a trauma victim and charged only with negligent manslaughter, maybe even go free, after he’d murdered his family. Right.

“Sanavah. I know we have to get his full story from him. But do we really need to treat him as if he’s a dangerous killer?”

Detective Sanavah ofWinterfall looked over at the destroyed house, and then back at the cleric, an expression of disbelief on her face.

Cleric Elimiss Elidanson, adept of Merenethe, sighed deeply. “Yes. I know he killed his family. But if it was an accident—”

“How does anyone say that word accidentally?” Sanavah exploded. “It’s just… not a thing you’d say!”

The boy signed. “We were studying it today. The Dire Words. I’m in magic school.”

Okay, so he was out of college. Magic school, like law school and medical school, was a graduate school; you needed at least a two-year degree to get in. “Why the hell would you be studying the Dire Words?” Sanavah snapped. “How fucking irresponsible would your teachers have to be—”

“Be professional, Sanavah,” Elimiss advised, and she wanted to punch him.

“It’s advanced work. Magical theory. We have to take the Words apart to determine why they work and have so much power,” he signed. “K-E-F-Z-H-I-Z-O-S-S was fascinating, I was working on an analysis all day… but I would never say it intentionally! I was calling it the Kef word.” He signed the individual letters, but ended it with the sign that indicated he was replicating a pronunciation, not a spelling.

Oh. Well. Maybe that changed things. Maybe not; it might still be a really good story. “You know we’ll follow up with your school, right?”

He nodded. “I don’t care what you do to me,” he signed. “Any kind of punishment. I deserve it. I killed Mom and Dad and Lifah and Raoun. But I want the world to know, it was an accident! I loved them! I’d never have said the Kef word in my own house, not without containing it first!”

“This the first time you’ve sleep-talked?”

“No… Mom said I’ve been doing it since I was a baby. Raoun insisted I had to move out and get my own room when I was eight because I was keeping him up at night. My parents turned my dad’s study into my bedroom.” He picked up the amulet. “Mom gave this to me so I wouldn’t accidentally hurt myself by sleep-talking, but I guess she never thought… I mean, I never thought…”

“I’m going to charge his teacher with negligence contributing,” Sanavah said tiredly. “Gonna charge you, too, kid. At least. I’d charge your mother, too, but she’s dead.”

The boy began to cry again, sobbing soundlessly into his hands.

“You believe me now?” Elimiss said. “I’ve had a feeling from Merenethe all this time that this boy isn’t a killer. Not intentionally.”

“That’s great. Very nice of Merenethe. I’m sure ‘a cleric of Merenethe had a feeling’ will be great evidence in court. He’s still coming down to the station.” She spoke to her forensics team. “You about ready to wrap up?”

“Yeah, pretty cut and dried. I think we’ve found all the evidence of standing charms we’re going to, and the Devastating Word would ruin any evidence of any other active spells,” Sofrani, the head forensic wizard, said. “We can head on back now if you want.”

“BTW, got a name,” the analyst, Charron, said. “Bylan Evertide.”

“That is not a real last name.”

“It absolutely is. Got it out of the city database. There’s a whole Evertide clan in and around the city here.”

“It’s going to be all right, Bylan,” Elimiss said. “The police and court, I mean. If you’re telling the truth, we’ll be able to get confirmation from an oneiromancer or a cleric of Morosma. We’ll clear you of wrongdoing.”

“Aside from the negligence and sheer stupidity of a guy who talks in his sleep learning Dire Words and then not putting a silencing charm on himself when he goes to sleep,” Sanavah said. “Elimiss, don’t make promises to the kid that you can’t make good on.”

“I know it’s my fault,” the boy signed. “Charge me with whatever you want. I won’t fight it.”

“Not how it works,” Sanavah said. “You’ll get a public defender, and if you want to plead guilty, you’ll have to convince her that you actually are before she’ll let you plead it.” She looked over at Elimiss. “You took your own pheasant over here, or did you get a taxi?”

“Taxi,” Elimiss said. “I don’t have a place to take care of a pheasant, I live in an apartment.”

“Take Elimiss back with you,” she instructed the driver of the enclosed auto-wagon. “I don’t think the chief’ll be thrilled if he expenses another taxi.”

“Will do,” the wagon driver said, and spoke a word under his breath, that made the magical engine that drove the cart fire to life. Elimiss got in the wagon, and the forensics team either got on their own pheasants, or into pheasant-drawn carriages, because no one got rich enough on a cop salary to ride around in an auto-carriage.

As she saddled up her own pheasant, who squawked in mild irritation because the beast had been enjoying plucking seed pods off the nearby mimosa tree and snacking on them, she gazed over at what had been the Evertide home. “Hell of a thing,” she murmured. “Come on, Basil, let’s get back to the station.”

Basilica, a middle-aged hen pheasant who was known for her reliability and love of sunflower seeds, snorted, flapped her wings, and took off. Running pheasants – named that because they were actually faster on the ground than in the air – had native magic that allowed their wings to work despite their enormous size, and they could easily bear a human or two through the air. A running pheasant could cross the distance back to the station fast enough, if it was through open or forested territory, but being on the ground, in traffic, mildly upset most of them and absolutely freaked Basilica out, so Sanavah had to fly back to the station every time.

[softbiker]

Born to Run - Chapter 9

Warnings: a couple of bad words I think

Word count: 1.7k (sorry for the short chapter!)

A/N: Apologies for getting this out a day late you guys. This week was something else. Anyways, here’s a couple thousand words of mutual pining! Enjoy responsibly. The slow burn continues, and I would apologize for continuing to string you guys along, except I am literally not sorry. 

She chewed on the cap of her pen, staring at the purchase orders in front of her. Her eyes slid over the same lines again and again, not reading a single word. Numbers and letters blurred together across the page. She didn’t even realize she wasn’t reading them.

It had been like this all morning - her brain couldn’t stay here, in the fluorescent sterility of her clinic, behind a desk, in an exam room. Her patients’ voices floated through her ears, just white noise humming in the back of her mind. She kept pinching her leg, trying to bring herself to the present, but nothing she did worked. She couldn’t focus on anything, anything that wasn’t-

-Bucky’s waist between her arms, squeezing him tight as she saw the goosebumps raise on his arms in the night air. His jacket still sat on her shoulders, keeping her warm on the back of the bike as they sped home, only two of them, painting country roads in light and sound-

The pen dropped to the desk, startling her. Her cheeks heated with embarrassment, though thankfully no one was around to see her driven to distraction at the mere thought of-

No. Nope. Not right now.

This is so unprofessional, she scolded herself.

Charlotte poked her head into the office with a knock, announcing another patient this afternoon, and Y/N sighed and pushed back from her desk. Tried to get her head in the game. In the exam room, her patient (a routine checkup) babbled about the corn harvest and the price of tractor tires and something else she’s not listening to - snapping her gloves into the trashcan and-

-the door opened softly, him tugging her along with their hands still laced together, the clubhouse dark and quiet, and they’re hushing their giggles like teenagers who have things like curfews and bedtimes. She feels a little dizzy watching him smile over his shoulder at her, and there is something in it, in the way his eyes are so wide and bright in the dark, and when she bumps into him by accident - motorcycle legs unsteady - he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her through the halls-

“- a whole month?”

The patient has her eyebrows lifted, expectant.

“...I’m so sorry, what did you just say?”

“I was just saying that it was hard to believe we’ve gone nearly a month without rain,” the woman said, mouth curling into a sly smile.

“Oh. Oh, yes you’re right.” Y/N shook her head. “At least the harvest is nearly done anyway.”

“Mm. So what’s his name?”

“Who?”

“You know who - the man you’ve been thinking about this entire appointment instead of listening to me talk about corn.”

Y/N floundered, tripping over herself in an attempt to deflect the question.

“No one, it’s nobody,” she shook her head vehemently. “I’m just a little tired today, so I’m spacing out a little. I’m very sorry about that, so unprofessional of me.”

“Mhm.”

**********

“Hey! Earth to Barnes!”

“Huh?”

“I’ve asked you three times where you put the toolbox.” Sam had his arms crossed, smirking. “Too busy thinking ‘bout your girl?”

“She is not my girl, Wilson.”

“You sure about that?”

-she shushed him for laughing out loud when she tripped over the common room couch, but she couldn’t stop smiling either, and he couldn’t believe how much she glowed even in the dark. Couldn’t pull his hand away from where their fingers had been laced tightly since they were sitting together on the grass-

“Yeah, I’m pretty damn sure.”

“Whatever you say man, I’m just looking for a toolbox.”

Bucky pointed behind the bar, where he knew that Clint would have left the tools after working on a leaky sink.

“Probably back there. Barton was using them.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Bucky didn’t reply, just rolled his eyes and went back to cleaning his gun. He always carried, part of the job, but now that he was practically serving as Y/N’s bodyguard, he checked and re-checked his weapons on a daily basis. He was carrying 2 extra knives in his boots now, besides the one in his belt, and he sharpened them every other day. It soothed him a little, the routine preparation, knowing he was in control. That would keep her safe.

And then, afterwards, he could tell her everything. Get it all off his chest. If she was still listening after that, then maybe they could start with dinner. Or a movie. Something normal, low pressure - he was terrified of scaring her away.

Staring at the can of grease on the coffee table in front of him, his mind couldn’t help slipping back to-

-standing in the hallway outside her door, him leaning against the wall and smiling at her, still holding her hand. Her eyes were bright as she smiled back at him, their faces only inches apart, noses almost touching. He wanted to kiss that smile, and he thought, with that look in her eyes, that she might let him-

The grease can clatters off the coffee table, knocked over by a twitch in his hand. He cursed and tried to snatch it up before too much of the oily stuff leaks out onto the rug underneath the coffee table, but he could already see the inky stain soaking into the fibers. Nat was going to have his head.

**********

There were stacks of files on her desk to go through, all of them old patients; she volunteered to help out with the clerical side of it all, sorting out the patient files, transferring or shredding whatever was no longer needed. It was tedious, but so was sitting alone and refreshing her inbox. 

Y/N shuffled another file over to the ‘Keep’ stack, having made her own notes on the patient’s chart just this morning. She glanced at the pile that hadn’t been done yet - it mounded on her desk, threatening to spill over into chaos on the floor. She should have been grateful for the distraction - for anything that would keep her from thinking about Bucky as she had done all morning. But as the afternoon wore on so did her boredom, tugging at the fuzzy edges of her mind and making her stare at the clock as the minutes ticked on, slowly bringing the end of her day.

She was rescued by a knock on her office door, Stacey poking her head in.

“You’ve got a walk-in. I think he’s been here before.”

“Alright, thanks.”

Y/N tugged on her lab coat and hung her stethoscope around her neck as she stood from her desk. The digital clock in the corner of her computer screen blinked 3:58 p.m. Only another hour or so until Bucky would pick her up…

She snapped her fingers and wrenched herself back to the present, however unwillingly. There was a patient waiting. A little flag outside the door told her he was in exam room 2. She took the little chart from its place by the door, flipping it back to take a quick look before she went in.

He looked up at her when the door opened, giving her that same sleazy smile she remembered.

“Hey, doc,” Rumlow waved with his fingers. “Long time, no see, huh?”

**********

They were supposed to be working on Steve’s bike, getting some overdue maintenance done on her before their big meeting this week. Stark and a couple of his guys were coming down, starting the prep for their final move on this mission.

As if reading his mind, Sam spoke up.

“You ever think about what you’re gonna do when this is over?”

“I think you asked me that the first time we met,” Bucky grunts, hefting the toolbox from its place in the garage. “Back in the Army.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Got me in a lot of shit since then.”

“Didn’t answer the question.”

Steve’s bike sat propped up in the middle of the garage, and Bucky dropped the toolbox next to it, grabbing the oilcloth slung over the seat. He didn’t look back at Sam.

“Course I think about it,” he shrugged. “But I still don’t know.”

“Hm. I figured you would need to go see about a girl.”

Bucky rolled his eyes but dropped to his knees, flipping the box open. His voice was softer when he spoke. 

“She’s not really looking to build a life here, you know.”

“So? Neither are you. Just part of the job.” Sam shook his head. “I swear you are the biggest fucking idiot if you-”

Bucky threw the dirty oil rag at him over his shoulder. Sam squawked as the rag hit him in the face, and dove for Bucky, the two of them grappling on the drop cloth spread over the garage floor. Though both men were strong and fit, Bucky had the advantage of sheer muscle mass, and managed to pin Sam on his stomach with a hand twisted behind him.

“Say ‘uncle’.”

“Alright, alright asshole - uncle, okay? Uncle!”

Bucky shifted his weight and eased up onto his knees, letting Sam roll over. He laid there, flat on his back, for a moment and gave Bucky the finger.

“You started it.”

“Hey idiots!” It was Natasha, standing in the doorway, rolling her eyes. “Get in here. You’ve gotta see this.”

Sharing a look, they scrambled to their feet and followed her out of the garage, down the hall to the common area. Most of their fellow Avengers were already there; Steve, Clint, and Wanda were clustered together on the couch, with Nat behind them, leaning over the back. Thor, recently returned from a cross-country ride with his brother, sat in the armchair, rubbing his chin.

“What is it?” Sam asked, making his way around the couch. “What’s going on?”

Steve looked up, his brows dark and drawn together. His eyes slid past Sam and straight to Bucky, and the look softened a little with...was that pity? Bucky’s stomach dropped.

“What is it, Steve?”

Steve swallowed harshly, licking his lips. Glancing down, Bucky noticed he was holding a piece of paper in his hands, small and square like a notepad.

“Buck…”

“Fuck, Steve, what?”

Blowing a breath out his lips, Steve held out the note to him.

“This was left on the front door - not sure when, we just found it 10 minutes ago.”

The paper was from a notepad - a prescription pad, one from the clinic, with Y/N’s name printed across the top in a small, neat font. No prescription was written on it, though. A skull and crossbones was drawn in crisp, black marker, bleeding through the thin sheet. At the bottom, a short note:

SEE YOU SOON, DOC.

[bekahdoesnerdshit]

20, 27, 35, 40, 50, 59, 67, 88 for All Eight Characters (one each but if you wanna go Hog Fucking Wild feel free)

Alright so. I’m not going hog wild but! I decided to do two guys per question, one who was my first gut instinct for that question, and then one random character to spice things up! Do some character building in a direction I might not have thought to go, you know? 

Also bro this got so long so just. Putting it. Under a read more because I do respect your time and dashboard.

20. How would your character define love? Caspian: Love is when people stop to listen to you. When they smile when they see you, and sneak you an extra dessert when no one is looking. Love is being willing to bend the rules to make you happy, teaching you to hold your head up high even when you’re getting in trouble, and telling you to always look the world right in the eye when it wants you to back down. Love is giving up whatever you have to without a second thought for the other person’s sake, and knowing they would do the same for you. Love is taking the lessons they taught you, carrying them in your heart, swallowing your fear and setting out to bring them home. Ryker: Love is fleeting, and fickle, and fragile. Love is at best a luxury and more realistically a bargaining chip. It’s real, sure, but its primary use is to blind people to what’s hidden behind it. Some people may get lucky, but only a fool would bet on those odds. ...if you are lucky enough to find it, though, hold on tight. Real love, genuine, honest, reciprocated love, is worth doing anything for. The people you care about should know how you feel by what you do, not by what you say. Show love with discretion, but show it fiercely. 

27. How much have they given up to get to where they are in life, willingly or unwillingly? How much do they think they would give up to get to where they want to be, in the future? Raini: Raini I think is super interesting because I think she’s given up a fair bit, and she’s completely fine with the sacrifices she did make because she decided the benefits outweighed whatever she had to give up to get it. But on the other hand, giving something up unwillingly? Having something taken from her? Absolutely a cause for retribution at any cost. idk if I’m explaining the difference in a way that makes sense, but that distinction means the world to Raini because, even if the sacrifice is hard to swallow, at least she was in control of it. And like, the whole premise of the campaign is giving up shit! Giving up everything! And was it willing at the time? Yes! But coming out on the other side of it and not remembering making the decision and, quite frankly, not agreeing with the decision you made is rough! You’re yourself, you know because you’re you, but you’re also not yourself because that’s the whole point of what you did, so did you really do this? Was it someone else in a body you now inhabit? What happens to this new you when you regain your old memories, because there’s no way in hell you don’t at least try to get them back? It’s a lot to think about!! And that, and the core of this question, is why Raini doesn’t let this end without a Wish to restore the memory of whoever wants it. I don’t think she sees erasing them the first time as a decision “she” necessarily made -although whether that’s a philosophical issue or one of diverting guilt is open for debate- so she wants to reclaim what she sees as having been taken from her unwillingly. Pip: Tbh, the plot and premise of Strahd aside, Pip has lived a pretty charmed life. He fucked up plenty, but he always seemed to manage to stumble his way into where he needed to be when he needed to be there. Honestly, even within the module things didn’t go too badly for him! He lost a good friend at one point, and nearly died in that same fight, but other than that he fared pretty well. The biggest thing he’s given up in his life was his place in his home village, but honestly it’s like 50/50 on whether that was willingly or unwillingly. Like, he feels bad about the accidental arson? But also. It kinda kicks ass that he did then just like. Leave and it was fine. With his campaign over, I don’t really have much in the way of future goals for him! He’s just. He’s just fucking vibing. You know? So! Seems like he’s getting out of giving up anything in the future.

35. What is their most prized possession? If they have one that is. Ryker: For sure have talked about this before: it’s his hammers. He has two enormous hammers that he fights with, named Last Chance and Misery’s End. They’re sturdy orc made weapons with their names hammered into the side of each head in orc, that have been passed down from clan leader to clan leader for generations. They hit well, they don’t do much else, but when you’re regularly shattering knees, ribs, and skulls, what else do you need them to do? They’re sturdy, practical weapons. Reliable, and they remind him of home. He’s more comfortable putting his life in their hands than anything -or anyone- else’s. Brilliance: Her armor! For several reasons: 1. She paid extra to have it enchanted so that it repels dirt and blood and grime. After crawling through cult sewers to clear out some nasty boys, Brilliance decided that never again was she going to spend her short rest having to wipe blood or shit off her nice armor. When she upgraded to splint mail, she absolutely forked out that Armor of Gleaming enchantment. 2. Her shield specifically was decorated by her fiancee! Sienna likes to paint, and when Brilliance first got her shield for guard duty at the church Sienna took it upon herself to get out her paints and paint on a wreaths of vines and roses and birds and other lovely things, so that her love could always have a piece of her with her 💖

40. Do people expect a lot from your character or look up to them for something? Why or why not? Ayen: Unfortunately, Ayen is baybe. And even though she hasn’t outright told anyone how old she is, it’s becoming rapidly apparent that. Hey? They might have figured it out. It’s literally inconceivable how they could have pieced it together though?? I mean, how does anything about her not read as completely mature and put together elf woman thank you I’m an elf??  So, no. I don’t think anyone looks up to her. And that’s okay!! Yes she is a young adult with her own set of skills and her own value to add to the world and the people around her, but she would not thrive in a position of leadership like she thinks she would. She needs time to mellow out and settle down, and to learn how to make decisions quickly and responsibly. I think, one day, she’ll be able to show a lot of people how to do a lot of good. For now, though, she’s happy trotting along after Dad and rowing her and her new friend around in circles in a row boat, just because it’s fun to mess around sometimes. Auriga: Interesting question! Interesting question. I think in the collective sense, as part of the Court of Stars, definitely yes. They’re the rulers! They guide their people through the knowledge and wisdom accumulated over the course of millennia! I think Auriga specifically even is seen as having a closer connection to this wealth of knowledge, being a cleric and all. But I am toying with the thought that outside of the context of the council and the court, the people that make it up don’t have as much weight? There’s still respect of course! But while one star shining on its own is all well and good, without the context of those around it how are you meant to learn from what it has to say to you? Auriga understands this, it’s just part of their culture, and he’s in no way troubled by it. It’s the way things are meant to be, and so they will continue to be until it is clear that something needs to change! 

50. What’s their earliest memory? Auriga: Now full warning this is going to be a lot less detailed than Cog’s is just because I know him less, but I think Auriga earliest memory is something sweet and warm like. Sitting in one of his older sibling’s laps (while he’s the Baby of the family!) and just. Dozing against their chest while the rest of them sit in front of a roaring fire and just talk. He doesn’t remember a word of what was said, he just remembers being little and held and loved. Their family mostly interacts in the council room, I think, because when things get busy with ruling it’s so easy to just fall into work and let family time fall by the wayside. But when things get stressful, when he realizes he hasn’t interacted with his brothers or sisters outside their meetings in a while, I think this is one of the memories that comes to mind and encourages him to set aside whatever he’s reading and go off to be intentional about spending time with his brothers and sisters :) Cog: One of her earliest memories was when her magic first manifested! She was maybe six or seven, and Mama was busy at church and Daddy had gone out to check on some of the folks that lived a bit further out from town, and baby Cog was bored to tears. She knew she wasn’t supposed to leave home alone!! But there were some Cool Older Kids she wanted to impress, and they were going to sneak out and explore the swamp. They were big kids! They were like thirteen! Surely, nothing bad could happen if there were big kids with her! So she followed them out of town, and by the time they noticed their tag-along it would have been Way too much work to take her back home. Whatever. It’s fine. They start poking around the edge of the swamp, looking at weird fish and bugs and poking at mushrooms or whatever kind of shit grows in swamps. Probably getting eaten alive by mosquitos.  Well! Cog is having a grand old time playing with frogs and cattails, and she’d wandered off from the teenagers she was supposed to be staying with. She was up to her calves in the brackish water trying to recapture a frog that escaped her when she looked up to see a long, thin shape darting through the water straight for her. It was a cottonmouth, mutated by the Wasteland and nearly as big as she is. It hissed as it closed the distance between them, mouth open wide as it readied itself to lunge and sink its fangs into her. Cog screamed and threw her arms up to protect herself-  And then there was a burn of something wild and unfamiliar in her chest, a warm hand on her shoulder, and a flash of light so blinding that people swore later they could see it from town. Cog stood there for a moment, frozen and trembling, but when she gathered the courage to open her eyes everything within five feet of her was scorched clean, and the corpse of the snake that had charged her was bobbing, almost completely unrecognizable, in the water in front of her. Mama was furious with her when they made it back home, of course, but after hearing what happened? After hearing that Cog had finally managed to channel a spell, some rudimentary form of Word of Radiance? Well, there were much, much more pressing things to worry about, all of a sudden.

59. Have they ever had an encounter with someone that changed their whole life? Cog: HA Morgan opened up a can of “Talk About Ace” SOUP and folks it’s fucking lunchtime. Drink up assholes!!! I know I’ve talked about this a hundred times but I’ll never be sick of it: they’re JUST such good friends and they’ve been so so good for each other. Before they met, Cog was in a place in her life where she felt trapped and perpetually anxious, and Ace was restless and angry at the world. Neither of them felt like they could measure up to the expectations other people had for them, and Cog had turned that worry self-destructively inward while Ace had turned it outward. Ace’s straining at his leash brought him to Lafaroh, and Cog’s -at the time, Charlotte’s- soft heart had her defying direct orders to slip up to this stranger and warn him that he needed to leave before he got hurt. And Ace looked at Charlotte, at the genuine worry on her face for someone she’d only just met. And he looked at the town around them, at the way the people who passed by looked at him and how that look shifted from suspicion to shock and outrage when they saw Charlotte with him. And he did some math, and he realized whatever the hell was going on in this podunk town was a thousand times more interesting than anything that would ever happen back in New Alexandria proper. So of course, he settles in to pry. Charlotte, bless her, has many, many strengths; reading into people’s intent is not one of them. So when Ace starts asking questions, she’s happy to answer to impress upon him how important it is that he goes home! And the more she talks, the easier it is to just... keep talking? This man, this stranger from the Academy, is talking to her, listening to her like nobody ever has. And more than that, he actually seems to care! He has no reason to care that she’s worried she won’t be able to step up the way she knows her mom wants her to, but he’s clearly concerned and invested in her story. And even though she’s trying to keep things vague, she’s never been very good at deceiving people. Pieces start to fall in place, Charlotte lets more slip than she means to, and by the time they’ve been talking for an hour or so Ace has a pretty good picture of what’s going on here. It’s not safe here, not for him and certainly not for her, so he doesn’t even stop to consider whether it’s an offer he can make when he holds out his hand, both literally and figuratively, and tells her he can take her back to the Academy with him. And to Charlotte, who less than an hour ago had been weighing her odds of surviving the Wasteland alone if she ran away on her own, the door this man just opened to her? The way he’s reaching back through it to offer her a hand, to pull her through to a better, safer life? How can she say no?  They fought their way out of Lafaroh that day. Charlotte almost certainly wanted to try to slip out unnoticed, but they’d already attracted too much attention by letting townspeople see them talking. Charlotte goes home to quickly pack, and she doesn’t come back out of the house. Ace waits, and the sun starts to set, and she still hasn’t come back out. Something isn’t right. He knocks on the door: there’s no answer. He knocks again, louder. Then again. Finally, an angry looking man opens the door and starts to tell Ace to get lost, but there’s clear sounds of arguing inside coming from just out of view of the doorway. The man is big, but Ace is fast enough to duck inside and around the corner in time to see Charlotte struggling to get around a woman who looks strikingly like her in order to make a break down the stairs and toward the door. The next several seconds are messy and disjointed; no one expects someone in high level caster robes to take the staff off their back and start attacking with it, but the next thing Charlotte knows Ace has her hastily packed bag slung over one shoulder, has planted her firmly behind himself, and is holding her hand with one of his own while he levels his staff at her parents with the other. His voice is calm but hard as he explains that they’re leaving, because Charlotte made it clear that she isn’t safe or happy here. If they try to stop them, Ace can and will bring the full force of New Alexandria’s wrath down on their tiny, shitty town. He’s going to take Charlotte away, find her a place in the Academy, and they’re not going to say a word. And so they leave! With all of Lafaroh absolutely seething behind them, with Charlotte gripping Ace’s hand as tight as she can and willing her own not to shake, they set out together into the Wasteland and, ultimately, to New Alexandria.  I have Such a vivid mental image of the two of them camping out in the Wasteland the night before they made it back to New Alexandria, with the lights of the city just peeking over the horizon in front of them. They’re eating dinner over a fire Ace made Such a show of lighting with magic instead of the tinderbox one of them definitely had, and they’re talking about names Charlotte could use in New Alexandria because she’d quietly admitted earlier that day that the name “Charlotte” has so much baggage that she doesn’t want to carry anymore. And Ace, while he is trying to help, is also a dork. He’s throwing out every name that pops into his head, good or not, trying to see if he can get her to laugh at one of them. They spend a few minutes talking, Ace muses aloud over “Charlotte Olivia Grace” a few times, looking for some cute nickname he can pull out of a name like that. And then he pauses, and sits up, and looks at Charlotte, and nods. The suggestion that she go by “Cog” makes her laugh, but that’s a good thing. Ace is grinning too because some dumb shit he said finally got a smile of out Charlotte for the first time since they left her shithole town. She’s sort of laughing in spite of herself, and it eases some of the heaviness that’s been hanging over them the last few days, but after considering it for a moment? She loves it. Taking the name she was given, and making it her own in a way she knows her parents would hate? It feels good! She’s grinning ear to ear when she turns to Ace and nods in agreement. “Cog” it is. “Charlotte” dies in the Wasteland that night; Cog enrolls in the Academy the next day. In Cog’s eyes, Ace’s intervention literally saved her life. She went from being a scared little girl in the middle of nowhere with no future beyond the ramshackle walls of her small town, to an incredibly promising up and coming student of the Academy. She went from being told that the only use her magic had was what it could do for the Church, to blowing away professors who expected her to barely be able to manage a cantrip and being praised for her intuitive understanding of magic. And for Ace! Cog was the first person his actions truly, directly helped. He saw a problem, he stepped in, he fixed in. In a slow moving, insular city like New Alexandria, that wasn’t something he’d been able to do before. He saw how the good he’d done in helping Cog reflected and redoubled in the way she treated the people around her, and saw her making the choice to be kind not in spite of but because of everything she’d been through growing up. Bro like Ace’s character bio says “self-appointed big bro to Cog” and “he sent a letter to Cog thanking her for being a positive influence in his life”. This question got SO out of control as I wrote my Cog and Ace fanfic but! They deserve it! AND the party is going back to New Alexandria next session, so!! More Ace content soon folks stay tuned! Raini: Did you think I ran out of soup?? Did you think lunchtime was over? FUCK you! This is MY blog and I’ll wax poetic about my dnd characters and their friendships for as LONG as I want to! And there’s nothing you can do to stop me!!!!! Now this one in fairness probably won’t be as long as Cog’s was, just because I know that all the people who follow me are like. Actively in the campaign and various group chats where we discuss how important our characters are to each other. But do NOT make the mistake of assuming it’s because I love you any less. I love you so much. Yes homo. Where do we start? At the beginning, with our lizard. Y’all ever uh. Y’all ever met a dipshit lizard who you’re pretty sure you can trick into taking you adventuring but plan to ditch the second they become deadweight (i.e. whenever they go down for the first time, probably), except then you became like best friends and siblings by all but blood and you realize you’d rip the world in half for them without them even asking and you can’t even begin to imagine how you’d reconcile the hole they’d leave in your life if they left it? Have you ever slowly realized that you’re adding “except for him” at the end of every generally grumpy statement you make about the world? And then realized even more slowly after years of friendship that somehow the bastard managed to extend “except for him” to “except for them”, and you’re so much less disengaged from and disinterested in the world around you? Y’all ever had that happen to you?? Shit’s wild. And then. Y’all ever met a fucking cop who clearly has, like. An actual metric ton of baggage she’s refusing to even glance in the direction of? And at first, it’s a pain to have to circumvent her “morals” in order to get shit done. Honestly, it’s kind of always a pain. But even your crotchety ass has to admit there’s something about sticking so firmly to your guns regardless of the situation you’re put in that’s admirable, that the world would be a much better place if more people had that same iron will and a refusal to be moved. Even if they’re standing up for stupid shit, at least they’re standing up for something. And maybe you take some of that resolve and tuck it away in your chest, to give you something to grip onto when you need to dig in your heels and refuse to let the world knock you around. And then. Y’all ever met a druid who burns with an anger you, honestly, kind of understand? Who wants to be more than the world wants her to be so badly, in a way that you definitely understand? Have you ever gotten to watch over the course of weeks and months as she time and again made the choice to take that anger and that drive and point it at things that would hurt the people she cares about? By god, she’s leaving her mark on the world, and she’s doing that by burning the shit out of it. But, without fail, there’s always a circle of uncharred, untouched ground around each and every party member. And when you notice this pattern, you can’t stop yourself from noticing it again, and again. And you learn: sometimes, you’re angry at the world. Sometimes! You’re angry at your party members! But that anger points outward. Always, and unequivocally. You have your friends’ backs, even if you’re furious with them. And then you meet a fish and you learn that sometimes things just need to be hit a lot of time in a row, really hard, with a big fucking hammer.  Okay but you meet this fish who, somehow, despite being monotone and weird and a fish and clearly an outsider to like. Land culture? Which you guess is a thing, apparently. Despite all of that, they have an emotional intelligence that’s off the fucking charts. And quite frankly! For a long time, it makes you really, really uncomfortable! If you don’t tell somebody how you’re feeling, and you don’t, then they shouldn’t be able to figure it out. But, slowly, you start to see the value of it. Your lizard is upset about something, and they won’t tell you what, but you’re able to squint at them and slowly figure it out so you can fix it. A few days later a joke a party member makes rubs you the wrong way, and you swallow your pride enough to admit it and they just. Apologize? Just like that? They promise not to say it again? And fish expressions are so hard to read, but you can just Tell that they’re over there looking smug, the bastard. But while you’re definitely not ready to commit to this being a daily thing you can, begrudgingly, admit that you can see the benefits of “communicating” with the people around you. 

67. What was the most acidic remark your character’s ever given to someone? And their reaction? Brilliance: In like our third session, our warlock had disguised himself as a “beautiful woman” in order to flirt with the guy we were there to talk to to get information out of him (Note: They did not ask Brilliance, at any point, if she was willing to flirt with him instead. She would not have been, but they could have at least asked). So Brilliance was hanging out at the bar near this dude’s private booth while the warlock chatted him up, and when the warlock got up to leave the dude reached out to try and grab her arm. He missed, but Brilliance was on his ass in a second with her sword out like “If you had grabbed her hand, you would have lost your own. She’s not interested in you; let her leave.” He thought it was funny and kept calling Brilliance “sweetheart”, but I did get to put my sword through his gut before the end of the night SO. Who’s the real winner? Ayen: I rolled Ayen for this one and I want to respect that and not cop out, but I don’t think it’s super in her nature to snark at people. She’s just gonna tell you like straight up that you’re a dickhead, and that’s that. I think the only time we might get to snarking is if someone (Dad, a party member, etc.) said “leave it alone” and Ayen is Not Done. She might send some parting shots over her shoulder then, like a “You’re lucky I like this guy so much, or we wouldn’t be done here” or “Show your face again when my dad’s not around, if you’ve got the balls.”

88. Assuming they aren’t one already would your character prefer to be a Vampire, a Werewolf, or a Demon? Pip: Potentially a cop out! However. A little..... vampire frog? Hello Mr. Strahd. Are we friends now? Could be a vampire! We have seen that vampires are cool and hot and powerful if perhaps a little amoral but that’s okay, because they’re cool and powerful.  Caspian: I literally spent fucking forever looking at this because. She literally worships and derives her Sun Soul monk shit from Pelor, the god of the sun. So like! How the fuck you gonna be a vampire or a werewolf with that going on. Dude hates the undead too, so vampire struck out twice. Demon’s iffy too, because it very much goes against the whole “good aligned” thing she has going on. So I guess?? Werewolf is the least offensive?? She’ll just pray and hope Pelor is like. Cool. With it. Haha? Also objectively, a werewolf that worships the god of the sun is VERY funny so there is that.

[coeurvrai]

Last we left off, Nadya passed out for the billionth time after escaping from the room where she was imprisoned and was found by Malachiasz. This time, Nadya wakes up bandaged in a room at the top of Pelageya’s tower.

Pelageya tells Nadya that she knows who she and Malachiasz really are and is aware of her status as a Cleric, because “this palace has been without any blessing of the divine for so long that you were practically shining when you stepped inside.”

“Though,” she considered, tugging at a spiral curl, “he’s not your king. Not mine, either. He’s not even sterevyani bolen’s king, now, is he? Is it treason if we all here swear to different crowns? Except…” Her gaze narrowed on Malachiasz. “You can’t really swear to your own crown, now can you?”

“Careful…” he murmured. He flexed his hand over the arm of his chair, nails flashing iron in the dim candlelight.

Shut the fuck up, Malachiasz. Also @jefflion​ already told me this particular spoiler, that Malachiasz is actually the Queen’s illegitimate child, so I’m both annoyed but also it kind of makes sense? Because either way, Malachiasz wants the crown and sees the crown as his.

Pelageya explains that a certain Vulture rose up the ranks and found out a way to attain godhood, so he told the King in a way to strengthen the relationship between the court and the Vultures; because the previous “Vulture queen” was ruining the sect and the Black Vulture wanted equal power. And so King Izak wanted to perform the ceremony, to give him the power he desperately craved.

“The Vulture disappeared. Poof! There one night, gone the next, leaving his cult to scramble in his absence. Because the Vultures need direction, they need their Black Vulture to lead them, and he had vanished.”

Nadya was listening at a distance, refusing to let the witch’s words catch up to her, to connect all that she was hearing, but she knew, she knew. Would that it had been so simple, that Malachiasz were just a Vulture recruit who got scared and fled. The world was falling out from underneath her and she had no anchor, she had nothing, because nothing was even real.

AND NADYA PUTS TWO AND TWO TOGETHER.

Look, I’ve been 99% sure from the start because that’s what happens when you advertise your book as a villain romance and also say it’s for Alina/Darkling shippers. The plot twist isn’t really a plot twist.

It was Malachiasz. It had always been Malachiasz. The leader of the cult, the one who had spun all of this into motion, the one who had smiled and charmed his way into Nadya’s trust because he could do terrible things with her power if he had access to it. She wouldn’t be sitting here with bandages covering her body if not for Malachiasz.

Look, you didn’t have to listen to him. You didn’t even have to go with him and Rashid and Parijahan to that church, because you had no reason to trust him or believe their plans or to even stick around to hear their plans. You, by all rights, shouldn’t had no actual reason to have been in that situation in the first place.

It’d be more believable if the book had gone along that Nadya was naive and unbelievably sheltered and that had a great effect on her nature and how she interacted with people.

But we literally threw away any semblance of that out of the window by Chapter 2 to double down that Nadya is Independent and Capable and Can Make Her Own Decisions and her upbringing at the monastery and especially as a Cleric has no greater effect on her perception of the world and her social skills.

Also you still haven’t found out what he did with your blood that one time!!!

“But he fled?” Nadya asked. If she pretended the one they were speaking of wasn’t sitting in front of them, listening in calm contemplation, maybe that would make this easier.

“He did,” Pelageya said. “But he came back. Do you think that is coincidence? That this clever boy and his clever magic have returned now?”

“Malachiasz?” Nadya said, her voice smaller than she would have liked, weaker. She willed him to look at her.

He looked different, sitting in the witch’s chair in a way that made it seem almost a throne. His black hair parted far on the right side, falling over his shoulder in inky waves, his pale eyes cold and blank. Less a boy, more a monster. Was that all he was? The silly boy who smiled too much and felt too deeply just a mask for the monster underneath?

Had she fallen for his lies exactly as he wanted her to?

I am going to scream.

You literally have called him a fucking monster and an Abomination and a Heretic ALL of the time, just to remind us that, yes, you still consider him an Enemy even though your hatred is paper thin and not at all believable even though your hatred for Tranavia and Vultures especially is supposed to be Important to your character.

But yes, you did.

He finally met her gaze, eyes softening, growing familiar. “It’s all right, towy dżimyka,” he said, voice soft.

It wasn’t. Not at all.

Pelageya laughed. “Is that supposed to make her feel better?” She stood up, walking around Malachiasz’s chair. “Is that supposed to earn her trust again?” She hooked a finger underneath his chin, forcing his gaze up to hers. She looked young. Nadya didn’t know when the shift had happened but knew the witch was a force of nature. A magic just as old and dangerous as either of them possessed, made worse by the wisdom of her years. “What have you done, Chelvyanik Sterevyani?” she whispered. “What will you still do? I don’t think love is such a force that it will stop you. I’m not sure you’re even capable of it.”

Okay, words are just getting thrown around now.

Also, bullshit! It’s not even something close to love. It’s more lust and attraction than anything else. They barely know each other! So of course love isn’t going to be able to stop him because there isn’t love between him and Nadya, because there hasn’t been time for love to develop between them.

Also this isn’t an enemies-to-lovers dynamic. I know I’ve said that before, but I want to just say it again. This isn’t enemies-to-lovers.

Nadya starts to have a moment, blaming herself and then saying that maybe he had changed, maybe they had changed him, maybe Pelageya is just trying to make trouble.

“I just want to end what I started,” Malachiasz finally said.

Ah yes, with a king dead at your feet and a crown sitting on your head.

Pelageya carries on, throwing around more words:  

“But, this isn’t just about you, Veshyen Yaliknevo. Chelvyanik Sterevyani. Sterevyani bolen.” She sat down on the arm of his chair and he shifted to the opposite side, as far from her as he could possibly get. “This is about the little scrap of divinity you’ve drawn to the depths of Tranavia.”

Nadya lifted her chin. She wasn’t going to let them see she was falling apart.

“She followed you a long, long way from home. What did you tell her to make her come so far without putting a blade in your back?”

Nothing too difficult, really. Just that they had a plan to assassinate the Tranavian King and for some reason, Nadya just went along with honestly without that much fuss, because y’know, the plot demanded it.

Also, as much as I find Pelageya amusing and intriguing, the way she’s being all touchy-touchy with Malachiasz, who is still a teenager, slightly uncomfortable.

“... Now that you point it out she does have the look of a girl who goes for—” She leaned over and tipped Malachiasz’s head back again, baring his throat. His fist clenched over the arm of the chair, nails now just long enough to be visible claws. “—sensitive flesh.”

Like, could you not? We get that Pelageya is creepy and strange already, Emily Duncan, you established that in a Serefin chapter with the prophecy thing.

“I never told her anything that wasn’t true,” he said, voice carefully restrained.

Lie by omission is still a lie, mate. What you omitted was pretty important. I mean, it was obvious and I already knew it, but still.

Pelageya still keeps creepily touching Malachiasz and Malachiasz keeps trying to find excuses for everything, insisting that they’re going to end the war. 

“Why are you here, Malachiasz?”

“I have told you. My reasoning hasn’t changed just because you know what I am now. I want to save my country. I’m one of the few people who can; surely you understand that.”

He was giving her nothing, less than nothing.

“I don’t believe you,” she said softly.

That’s one of the smartest things Nadya has ever said, and that’s saying something.

Nadya, who didn’t know how to hold herself together after this. Nadya, who couldn’t pull her gaze away from Malachiasz, unable to reconcile that the boy she had traded jokes with, that she had kissed, was a symbol of Tranavian heresy. A monster greater than all others.

I- you literally knew that he was a Vulture. That made him “heretical” as is. You knew he was powerful, you literally he was more powerful than Serefin! You called him a monster.

I know, objectively, that this is supposed to be a betrayal for you but you can’t just act like you haven’t been calling him all these things for 75% of the book!

She thought she knew what she was doing, coming here, but now she was in a foreign country, surrounded by her enemies, and the one she had anchored her safety to had been lying to her from the start.

Because the plot demanded that you trust him and go along with their plan even though you had no real reason to.

Pelageya tells her that the entity connected to the necklace that Kostya gave to her is called Velyos, a former member of the Pantheon. That the reason she is cut off from the gods currently is because King Izak is strengthening that “veil” of blood magic that hangs over the capital. 

“There is your magic, which is good, of course. And then their magic. Blood magic. Heresy.”

“It’s just magic,” Malachiasz said.

Still haven’t explained why Marzenya just can’t fuck shit up when magic is one of her domains, plain and simple. And yes, you can argue “the veil” but the veil is still made from magic. It still hasn’t explained why blood magic is so different and untouchable when blood magic is still, at its core, magic.

Pelageya tells Nadya that a witch is just someone with magic of their own, not beholden to the gods. Nadya balks at the thought. Pelageya taunts them both, stating that Malachiasz doesn’t have the power of Vultures that he once did.

The witch had said it to sow more discord, but if he didn’t have full control of the Vultures, maybe that meant he actually was helping them? She shouldn’t give in to hope. She hated that she was so damn hopeful.

I’m rolling my eyes, because Nadya is being predictable at this point and I have no hope for any character consistency besides the fact that it's inconsistent.

A sudden insistent knock on the door made all three of them pause. Then a voice, terrifyingly familiar, came from outside.

“Pelageya? I need to speak with you.”

Of course it would be the prince.

And that’s the end of Chapter 26! YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!

[beanplague-moved]

Teenage Confusion and Other Bullshit

today was a whole ass fever dream but here’s a fanfiction i wrote about kristen applebees and fig faeth being sapphique. it’s very rough because it was written while i was dying of 1am diseases but still.

next up in my d20 fanfiction adventures: fic about zelda donavan and her cool ass family; fic about pete the plug... doing something...

commissions | ao3 link to come... soon.

                                                            -

“And, I don’t know, it’s like—am I gay?” Kristen is sprawled out on the beanbag chair, staring vacantly at the ceiling. “I don’t feel gay.”

“And how exactly do you think being gay feels?” replies Fig, who has been flipping through TV channels for the last five minutes, desperately trying to find something to watch. It isn’t that she doesn’t like being around Kristen; most of the time it’s quite the opposite. Kristen is (usually unintentionally) funny and interesting and easily corruptible. Also, she has very limited taste in music and thus believes that Fig’s music is the absolute epitome of rock and roll, so she’s great to have around for ego-stroking.

The problem usually arises in all the existential wondering about whether or not Kristen is normal or if there is an afterlife with a god who can prevent suffering or whatever. She’s not sure whether or not it’s a cleric thing or just a Kristen thing. It’s probably a mix of both.

“I don’t know—that’s part of the problem! I don’t know any of this stuff. All I know is corn and the various ways it can be used to cleanse one’s soul and also their digestive tract!”

“I mean, you also know how to jack off with it, presumably—”

“It was one time! And I told you that in confidence.”

“You told the entire group and my dad,” says Fig.

“Yes! In confidence! That fact is between you and me and the rest of our friend group. And also your dad. And also Basrar and whoever else was in his ice cream shop that day.” Kristen’s face is in her hands, now.

Full disclosure, there’s something really charming about Kristen, even when she’s crying about the relative privacy in which she told risque corn stories. Fig feels a grin tug at the corners of her lips.

“Why are you smiling? Stop smiling! This isn’t a smiling matter, Fig,” Kristen says. “I might be gay! As in, you know, a lesbian! Like, I would like girls,” she sighs. “And I don’t even know how I would begin to tell my parents! Or my prayer group! And—shit—what if I have to tell them I don’t believe in Helio?”

“I think you’d probably start with that?” Fig muses. “I mean, I’d personally start with it. Something like, ‘hey mom and dad, I don’t believe in god! Also, I’m gay!’ It’ll really cushion the blow,” she pauses. “Or, well, maybe you’d wanna do it the reverse way? Which news do you think is worse?”

“Definitely the gay thing—no, wait, the god thing—no, wait—ugh!” Kristen groans. “What is worse news, to them? I know my mom is totally looking forward to granchildren, which is dumb, but I have brothers, so—”

“Probably the god thing,” interjects Fig. “I mean, personally I think atheism is really metal, but your parents are weird.”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah man, fuck the system. Kristen Applebees bows to no corn gods or authority figures.”

“Thanks, Fig.” Kristen actually manages a bit of a smile at that. “Though I’m not really committed to atheism just yet. I think I’m just… kind of in-between gods right now? Like, on a religion hiatus or something. You get it, right?”

“Totally.” Fig does not get it.

The conversation goes on for a bit with little fanfare, up until Kristen leans back in her bean bag again and sighs. “I just can’t believe I might be gay.”

Fig raises an eyebrow, and something possesses her to ask one question that’s been on her mind since this whole conversation began. “What’s with the ‘might be?’”

“Well, I haven’t really been able to test it,” Kristen says, before meeting eyes with Fig. “The thing with that Tracker girl could have been a total fluke, for all I know.”

“You don’t need to test it,” says Fig. “I feel like it’s something you can figure out on your own.”

“Fig, you’ve known me for a while—do I seem very good at figuring things out on my own?”

“Okay, you have a point there.” Fig is quiet after that, at least for a moment, as she thinks about the situation at hand. Or, to be more accurate, as she barely thinks about it at all. Suddenly, she is at full standing, making her way over to Kristen’s bean bag and then kneeling to be at eye-height with her.

“It’s just that, I dunno, I’d like to have an experience like that one day, maybe, if only to have it. And, I guess it’d be nice just to clear up all of this confusion—whoa, you’re really close.”

“Yep,” says Fig. At this distance, Kristen’s freckles are really apparent. The way her hair curls around her cheeks and chin is kind of cute, too. “Are you done talking?”

Kristen tugs on the hem of her shirt awkwardly. “I guess, yeah.”

“Good.” Fig tries to figure out how she’s going to go about this—she wonders if there’s a specific angle that would be better? She’s done this before, but those were eighth grade experiences, and some of those guys totally owe her one for letting them get to second base just so they could brag to their friends about it—and, you know what? She doesn’t even have to think about this. Anything is better than the experience of having a tweenage boy’s hands clumsily pawing the outside of her shirt.

Kristen kind of squeaks when Fig kisses her, which is pretty cute. Her hands flail aimlessly before settling on Fig’s sides—it’s kind of a weird, light pressure, so it feels like a ghost crawling around on Fig’s skin. Pretty cool, though. She pulls away from the kiss with an altogether positive impression of Kristen’s mouth.

“So,” she says, “are you any less confused?”

“No!” Kristen immediately starts babbling. “If anything, I’m more confused! So much more confused! And kind of vaguely horny? But mostly confused!”

“I see,” says Fig. Whoops. “I mean, would kissing again solve any of it?”

“I—” Kristen opens her mouth, before closing it and contemplating, “you know what? Yeah.”

They kiss again. It’s pretty fucking metal.

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E38 (October 16, 2018)

Tonight’s guests are Sam Riegel and Taliesin Jaffe (and, as always, Dani Carr and... Tiny Corner Max?)!

Announcements:

The latest episode of Between the Sheets, featuring Daytime Emmy Award-Winning Sam Riegel (TM), aired last night and will be available on YouTube tomorrow morning. Sam: “I feel like this channel is mostly just you and me talking?” Brian: “Are you saying that everyone else is just riding our coattails?” Taliesin: “He’s also saying that you look a lot like Liam at this point, and he can’t tell the difference.”

Another episode of All Work No Play will debut this Friday on the Critical Role Twitch (uploaded to YouTube on Sunday). In this episode, Sam and Liam do yoga... with goats. TJ Storm and Travis Willingham guest star!

Next week the cast will be at London MCM! Taliesin: “I’m packing slightly more tweed.” Brian: “Gettin’ tweedy with it.”

There’s a new (harp music) Laura Bailey emote on the CR Twitch for subscribers.

@critrolestats for this week’s episode:

The M9 hit 150 natural ones in this episode. Number 150 was Jester’s acrobatics check to get away from the yuan-ti abomination.

Jester also set the record for the most natural ones in a single episode: 5. The previous record of 4 was held by Nott and Beau. Brian: “You guys remember these are not still going to charity, right?” Sam and Taliesin: “What?”

Taliesin was the one who helped Momlan glue on her elf ears. Taliesin: “I would be very nervous if my mom were going out there.” Brian: “Well, she’s got hundreds of years of secrets on you.” Taliesin: “Mom of the damned.”

Cad’s definitely been upset about being around undead; Taliesin’s rolled a few times to see if there’ll be a worse freak-out, but there hasn’t been one so far. “The notion is that there’s a direction things are supposed to move, and [undead] is something moving against the grain in an intense way. What’s the point of having an imaginary organized religion of any kind if you can’t have something they’re fundamentally against?”

Nott’s extremely far from her comfort zone right now, being outside the Empire, working for a captain on the sea who’s threatened their lives: “There’s snakes and lizards and... wouldn’t you drink, dude?!”

Given how much he’s been getting the shit kicked out of him lately, is there a breaking point for Cad? “Probably. I haven’t really finished nailing him down emotionally yet. I genuinely don’t know what zen people do when everything goes to shit.” Jester’s speech genuinely comforted him a lot. “Apparently Laura knew what to say.” Sam notes that the party hasn’t really had a chance to sit down and ask him questions about himself so far. Taliesin mentions that Cad’s been ordering drinks but hasn’t actually been drinking.

Nott’s fallen into the role of the mom friend mainly because nobody else has (everyone agrees that Caduceus is more of “a wise pothead”). Brian: “Everyone seems to have so much baggage right now. Half the people seem focused on just holding it together, the other half are focused on the mission.” Dani: “Somebody has to be the level-headed one.” Sam: “And why can’t that leveling force come from a three-and-a-half-foot insane goblin alcoholic?”

Once Caduceus levels out (he’s still a little shell-shocked), he’s going to realize that he’s surrounded by “unhealthy lunatics” and will want to do something about that.

Sam’s done some research about chemistry (although he wants to make more of a cheat sheet after Travis’ experience with sailing), knowing it might come up with Nott’s alchemy knowledge. Taliesin is trying to learn more of what Sam terms “that fungus shit”. Also tea, and zen. Sam: “I was thinking you should go to a morgue and see how bodies decompose.” Taliesin: “Oh, I have some experience in that.” 

(don’t worry; it’s just some friends in forensic anthropology)

Gif of the Week: Taliesin casts Detect DM Shenanigans.

“There was a certain order to the universe that he has come to expect, and it has been thrown into great disarray.” Cad was expecting the Epic Quest to save his home, but he wasn’t expecting the Mighty Nein. He’s mainly staying because of what Jester said about not necessarily needing to understand what’s happening right now. “He’s confused and trying his best to just let things happen, because that’s how the Wildmother works.”

Nott’s been surprised by some of the Mighty Nein’s actions, but so far she knows it’s out of necessity. She doesn’t view the incident on the docks as quite as bad as some of the others did---it was chaotic and based in self-preservation rather than actively causing harm. “But some of the other actions lately have been surprising to her.” Sam points out that she and Caleb did a lot of things to survive, and that she still steals a lot, and reminds everyone that she lives in a very morally grey area. She’s not thinking of leaving at this point, and all the high-stakes trauma has brought her closer to the group. “It’s a fucked-up dysfunctional family, but it’s starting to look a little bit like a family to her.”

Taliesin and Sam are both enjoying being moral compasses of the party this campaign, in major contrast to the previous campaign. Brian: “You were a teenage asshole. You were a teenage dirtbag.” Taliesin: “It’s so weird. I love it.” Sam: “Oh man. We’d better step up our game. If we’re the moral compasses...” Taliesin: “We’re like Cracker Jack compasses, we almost point north.”

Cad’s got a lot of abilities he just doesn’t use very often. “He knows that some of it is... rude? Death cleric, man, they’ve got some insane shit.” Cad doesn’t have the same opinions on life and death as most people. Brian: “How surprising.”

Taliesin is having “a ton of fun” playing Caduceus. “I love Molly... and the character. Too easy.” No, but seriously: “I loved playing Molly, but the nice thing I got to do with Caduceus that I didn’t get to do with Molly is we had an established group and I got to create a character that was useful to the dynamic both mathematically and emotionally.”

Sam: “Wait, is it twitch.tv or twitch.com? Oh my god, I’ve been putting the wrong links on my Twitter for like a year.”

Cad was very selective about who he told about Jamedi, and purposely didn’t tell Nott because he knew she’d tell others. Sam, trying to keep a straight face: “Nott’s nothing if not trustworthy.” He’s more surprised that Caduceus has figured that out already, given how little he knows about Nott. “Maybe it speaks less to Nott and more to Caduceus being judgey...” Taliesin clarifies that it wasn’t so much that Nott was untrustworthy, it was more than Nott couldn’t keep a secret. Sam, as a player, was shocked that the rest of the party didn’t instantly tell everyone that “we are being led through the jungle by a dead guy.” Taliesin points out that with two clerics (Brian: “well, a cleric and a battle Mercy”), they literally have a button they can push to make him go away if they need to.

Sam: “It seems like Fjord’s going into a real bad place without any information, and Nott’s there to support and make sure he doesn’t die, but it seems like a bad idea.” Taliesin: “This seems like a test of one’s soul, and Caduceus is on board but aware that this could go badly.” Taliesin also points out that the rest of the group isn’t aware of the creepiest stuff going on because they weren’t there for it.

Fanart of the Week: the group (sans Jester and Caduceus) inside Leomund’s Tiny Hut! 

Taliesin got recognized in public, and the fan immediately called out the two clerics for going off on their own in the middle of the night. Taliesin: “It was a good burn.”

Caduceus had some experience with fights pre-M9 (grave robbers, wildlife). Taliesin: “Have you ever seen Cemetery Man? Shit gets weird!”

There’s a brief interlude while everyone arranges a movie night. As you do.

Has Nott been feeling protective toward members of the Nein other than Caleb? Fjord is probably the next-likely candidate, followed by possibly Yasha. Sam: “Caduceus is just too tall.” Taliesin: “I feel that.”

Taliesin describes Lesser Restoration as “the aspirin of D&D”. He’s done some healing of illness before, but this has just been a bad time. Sam points out that in the last campaign they didn’t really have to deal with disease so much. “I assume it’s Bird Flu.”

Scanlan stealing the gun was messing with both Taliesin and Percy. Nott is interested in the mechanics of the gun, interested in the chemistry of gunpowder, and has already designed and manufactured one explosive arrow as a result. “But Nott has also noticed that there’s people with guns wherever they keep going, and it might be a good idea to have a gun. It’s a self-preservation thing. If that also happens to mess with Taliesin Jaffe, I’m not going to say no to that. I mean, the heart does what the heart does. If that happens as a result, we’ve all grown as people.”

They realize there’s about a four-foot height difference between Caduceus and Nott. Taliesin: “He squats.” Dani: “He’s got killer calves.”

Caduceus is very, very good at reading people. Nott doesn’t lie because of goblin upbringing, but more out of her travels with Caleb and having her first impulse to be to get out of any situation by lying to stall/delay/confuse. 

Taliesin: “Why lie to a plant?”

There’s a brief interlude about telling your plants inappropriate bodily measurements. As you... do? Brian: “I’m calling an Uber right now. I’m sorry. I’m done.”

Taliesin is collecting spells based mainly on what he can guess might be helpful. He doesn’t need a lot of damage-dealing, so focuses more on deflecting and healing. He’s picked out some feats he’s interested in to make Caduceus less likely to take damage. “That’s been a problem. I don’t like being hit.”

It is pointed out that all of Sam’s characters in the campaigns have had high intelligence and low wisdom. “That’s a pretty great winning combo for comedy.”

Legends of the Hidden Talks Machina:

Overwatch mains? Sam: “What’s a main?” Taliesin: “It’s like Quidditch...”

Taliesin is a support main, especially Zenyatta and Brigitte.

Brian is a D.Va main (woo!) and also plays a lot of Orisa.

Look, I gotta cheer on anyone who also mains D.Va. Those are the rules.

They agree that watching Sam play as Hanzo would be funny, but decide Roadhog would be the best. Sam: “Yeah. It’s Hog Noon. Is that what he says?” Brian: “Yep.”

What’s Matt’s character name?  Sam: “Tyrone McCabe.” Brian: “It’s close!”

Ghost stories? Taliesin: “I’ve been ghosted.” Sam: “I saw some raccoons in my backyard?” Taliesin: “I got attacked by a skunk when I was in my hot tub.”

Taliesin: “Now I’ve seen a ghost.” Past and present combine:

Taliesin has a 1930s stripey swimsuit, because of course he does.

What (harp music)-style sound cues would they have? Taliesin: The sound of building a temple in the original Warcraft. Sam: An... explosion? Brian: The sound of my mom’s tears because he never became a doctor. Taliesin: “I was thinking the Golden Girls intro.”

Goth advice for the week, courtesy of Taliesin: Best style eyeliner is eyeliner on day 2. Put on the eyeliner before the shower. Know if your choker’s loadbearing.

[howlingheartdemigod]

Request: Jester tries to ask for more "practice" kisses. Beau, a nervous wreck, keeps trying to wiggle out of it until finally Jester is open, she wants to kiss her... Badly. She needs it.

so y’all did not like the fact that I am an angst monster and angsted up the end of THIS THING i wrote up for @iamwalkingdead1 

so OKAY FINE HERE I WROTE MORE AND IT’S SOONER THAN I EXPECTED 

title from here

one day you will arrive 

Beau spent a week avoiding Jester. It wasn’t like… totally obvious. She was chill. It was chill. They were in Zadash anyway, it was totally normal for her to spend all her time in Zadash training at the reserve. Totally normal.

It just… It was a lot to process, was all. It was a lot to think about. She didn’t know how she felt about Jes on the best of days, and this wasn’t the best of days. This was. Rough. And confusing and every time Beau so much as looked at Jester, all she could think of was the slide of her lips, the rough press of her fingers on Beau’s skin, the feeling of her soft thighs straddling Beau’s hips, and that-

That was not productive. That was not helpful. Jester was her friend. Her friend who liked Fjord, and the Traveler, and guys named Oskar in romance novels. It… It wasn’t gonna happen. And she liked being Jesters friend anyway. She really did.

So Beau spent a week at the monastery. She woke Caleb up before she left, telling him if they needed her that’s where she’d be. Then she didn’t come back for days. She just needed to think. She needed to meditate. She needed the hard scheduled time to push down the feelings and move on. She’d be fine. She’d be fine.

When she left the reserve, robes tied properly for the second time in living memory, she felt… still shit but, better. Not great. Not good, but better. Plus, if she spent another day sleeping on a roll on stone she might actually give herself back problems for real.

She didn’t go straight to her friends, instead wandering around the pentamarket, looking at this and that. She figured she could come back and buy dinner as an apology. Tell them that she’d been planning on going in for a day and then got caught up in a cool new training thing. She didn’t know what she’d show them if they asked what she’d learned, but it was a good enough lie as any.

“Beau?” She spun around, eyes going a little wide. Caleb was standing outside of Pumat Sol’s store, brow lifted. He looked her up and down. “Okay, this was already weird, but, uh, that makes it weirder.”

Beau slumped a little, leaning on her staff. Seeing Caleb sent a burst of happiness through her she hadn’t been expecting. They’d only been a mile away, but Gods knew how much she missed them. The Mighty Nein had become her center, which, she didn’t know how to feel about, except that she couldn’t quite bring herself to be upset.

“Ah, yeah.” she said, looking down at herself. She reached up to scratch the newly shaved back of her head. Her top knot, for once, was well tied. She looked like a proper Monk. “Been training.” She told him, the lie falling flat.

Caleb squinted at her, coming to stand by her. “Hmm, sure.” He looked past her. “You know, what’s funny, as soon as you left Jester decided to throw herself into reading about healing, and historical Clerics, and… she’s been training herself, too, I guess.”

Beau felt like she was talking to Caduceus, with the knowing look in Caleb’s eye. she took a breath, looking past him. “It’s… Look, I… It’s so fucking dumb. It’s like, so teenager. It’s stupid, Caleb. but… we kissed, and I’m all fucked up about it.”

Caleb, to his credit, managed to keep from laughing at her. “She seems pretty fucked up about it too.”

Beau snorted. “Sure she is. No, she’s probably just upset that I pulled my bullshit and left. That’s all I’m fucking good at.”

Caleb fixed her with a look. “You’ve stayed with us considerably more than you’ve left us, Beau. And you weren’t gone. We knew right where you were.” He seemed to think about it. “Maybe I’m wrong. Or maybe you should talk to her. I don’t know.”

Beau took a breath, giving a nod. “We still at the Leaky Tap?” She asked.

Caleb nodded, and turned off. “Let’s head back. I’m sure everyone will be excited to see you. Plus, buttoned up Beau is quite possibly the weirdest thing. Can’t deprive them of that.”

Beau’s return was met with a round of drinks and interrogation about how her time at the reserve had been. But she couldn’t meet Jester’s eye, and felt like there was a pit in her throat, and when a reason to get out of the city, to keep moving, fell into their laps, that was the best thing that could have possibly happened.

Beau could not figure out why she kept finding herself drawn to Jester. It was driving her crazy. She’d be walking along side the cart, and hear a dramatic sigh, and look up to see Jester with her back slumped on Caduceus’ shoulder, loudly complaining about how hot it was while tugging the collar of her blouse. Beau had to actually pinch herself to keep her eyes from trailing.

Jester would offer to take watch with Beau, batting her eyes, and acting a fool. Acting like Jester. It was probably some long form joke, knowing Jester. Or she’d re read Tusk Love. her flirting always got worse when she did that.

Beau would go down mid fight and, even though she knew that Jester was yards away casting spells when she went down, she’d wake up with her head cradled in Jester’s arms, the look of concern melting away.

It was trouble. She was sure she was just magnifying it all. Jester certainly wasn’t actually any more touchy and flirty than before. It was just projection. It was just wishful thinking.

It was hard to convince herself, but it had to be.

Yasha returned to them, which was great. When Yasha was around Beau could get away with not taking watch, with having a buffer roommate. When they stopped in Alfield, which was looking considerably better rebuilt than the last time they’d been there, Beau tried her best to forget that they’d ever even kissed. She flirted with barmaids, she got drunk and challenged Bryce to an arm wrestling match, then Fjord, then Yasha, then Caduceus. She acted like an idiot, really. And she steadfastly kept from looking Jester in the eye for more than a second. When she caught herself looking at the swishing skirts and soft curves, she forced herself to look away and take a shot.

And if she ended up outstandingly drunk muttering to an equally drunk Bryce about how ‘fucking beautiful’ Jester is, and how ‘shit’s fucking torture,’ then that was just fine, because Bryce couldn’t remember the next day anyway.

Everyone was kind enough to give Beau a day of recovery in Alfield before moving on. She needed it too, her head pounding like a drum, her stomach wrenching every time she tried to stand for the first two hours she was awake. She cursed the day she ever learned what alcohol was. She cursed who ever invented it too.

Yasha brought up some kind of broth, and turned the chair to face her as Beau dragged herself upright to drink it.

“You want to explain why you were drinking like the world ends tomorrow?” She asked, leaning on the chair towards her.

Beau let out a little groan. “Trying to wipe my memory.” She muttered. “It’s… I…”

“Is it something to do with why you locked yourself at the reserve for a week?” Beau squinted at her, an unasked question that Yasha shrugged and answered. “Caleb told me.”

“Damn that hobo wizard.” Beau muttered. “God, it’s so fucking dumb, Yash. Jester… she wanted to practice kissing, and I was like ‘yeah, sure, whatever, I’ve made out with straight girls before, no biggie, but then… It was a biggie. and I’m all fucked up about it.”

Yasha squinted at Beau. “So, let me track this. You and Jester kissed.”

Beau nodded.

“It was a good kiss?”

“Very.”

“You ran off to a monastery.”

“To be fair, I’m already technically a monk, but yes.”

“And now, even though she’s basically throwing herself at you, you decided to drink away your feelings instead of just locking the door and going at it.”

“Yeah, wait, no what?” Beau looked up from her bowl, scowling. “What? Jester’s not… that’s just how she’s like.”

Yasha snorted, and pushed to her feet. “If you say so Beau.”

Yasha left the room, leaning Beau to stare at a wall, thinking about it long enough for her soup to go cold.

It was a week later, visiting Marion Lavorre at the Lavish Chateau, when Jester got fed up. She’d tried flirting, she’d tried being super interested in what Beau had to say about training at the reserve, she tried showing more skin. But none of it was working, and it was torture. So she gave up on being subtle, waited until she knew Beau was alone, and stormed into the room, swinging the door shut behind her.

“Okay, I don’t know what I am doing wrong, but” She wheeled towards Beau, who was lounging on the bed a book in hand, looking confused. “I swear to The Traveler Beau, that if you don’t explain right now why you don’t want to kiss me again I’m going to lose my mind!”

Beau sat up, setting the novel aside. “What?” She said, head tilting adorably. ‘God, everything you do is cute.’ Jester thought. ‘It’s rude.’

Jester crossed her arms. “I know I was a good kisser. You were too bright red for me to not have been, but then you went off with your cool Monk buddies for a week and then when you came back you wouldn’t even look at me, so explain what I did wrong, so I can kiss you again and fix it, because, and I’m serious Beau, if I don’t get to kiss you again I am going to explode.”

Beau stared at her for a good ten seconds, and Jester felt like she was going to scream, or cry, or… or she didn’t know what. Then Beau was on her feet in front of her, reached to hold her jaw with one hand, and her waist with the other, pulling Jester close, kissing her like she was water in a desert.

Jester gasped, pressing back into the kiss. She lifted a hand to catch the back of Beau’s neck, slotting herself against Beau. She tilted her head, convinced Beau tasted better than sugar.

Beau broke the kiss. “so… You have been flirting?” she said, brow lifting.

Jester stared at her a second. “You seriously haven’t noticed?”

Beau shrugged. “I mean… People maybe have pointed it out to me but…”

Jester let out a little laugh, and ducked to kiss her again. “that clear anything up for you?”

Beau smiled wide, nodding. “Yeah, but I could use some more clarification on some points, if you don’t mind.”

And that was clarification Jester was more than happy to provide.

[themugcollector]

Welcome to the Cobalt Soul

Beau Week 2019 - Cobalt Soul

I actually began writing this for day two of Beau week but it got away from me and turned into something longer.

My take on Beau’s unhappy time at the Archive of the Cobalt Soul (and also why she learnt Deep Speech.)

(Warning contains swearing (because it’s Beau), and reference to violence and abuse)

(Also not sure on the spelling - the wiki says Xenoth but everyone else spells it Zeenoth. I went with the wiki version)

...

A nervous teenage Beau found herself sat in a cold unfamiliar room, looking into the eyes of a slim half-elf in blue robes.

“Miss Lionette, I am Archivist Xenoth and I shall be your mentor here at the Archive of Cobalt Soul.”

“The cobble what?” Beau groaned, “What in the five hells has my father done now?” 

It had been an uncomfortable week spent travelling in the back of a blacked-out carriage; two silent guards taking turns to watch her. No privacy; no escape; no sunlight. Her abductors had dressed her in a scratchy sleeveless tunic and ridiculously baggy pants. They had also shaved off all her long hair; Beau wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She kept running her hand over her bald head feeling violated and yet oddly free.

The half-elf gave a thin watery smile.

“Your father has asked the Cobalt Soul to take care of you.”

Beau snorted and tried to get up from her chair.

“I can take care of myself”

A meaty fist grabbed her shoulder and pushed her back into her seat.

Beau turned to meet the glare of a squat male dwarf, his beard braided, his dark hair curled into a ponytail, his own blue robes more functional that the half-elf’s flowing gown.

“Your father has charged us with your care.” Xenoth repeated. “And I and Morpeth are here to facilitate that. I understand that you are not keen, but we take our responsibilities very seriously.”

Beau shook off the hand on her shoulder and gave the half-elf her best scowl.

“How much is he paying you?”

“Enough.” said Xenoth coolly; which probably meant several hundred gold at least.

Beau smirked.

“Trust me, it will never be enough!”

Xenoth sighed, not at all effected by her bravado.

“Here at the Cobalt Soul there are rules that you will follow. You are here to learn, and we are here to teach.”

“Fuck off.” snapped Beau.

Xenoth nodded to the dwarf, Morpeth.

Whack! A thin bamboo switch struck her arm. The sharp pain taking Beau by surprise.

“Did you just fucking hit…!?”

Whack! A second blow came before she could even finish her protest.

Beau tried to leap from her chair, tears pricked her eyes from the shock and the pain. Morpeth’s hand grabbed her neck and held her in place.

Whack!

“Stop fucking hitting…”

Whack!

“You fucking…”

Whack!

“Stop it!”

Whack!

“I’m gonna…!” cried Beau, trying to lash out with her leg but Morpeth stayed out of reach.

Whack!

“Stop!”

Whack!

“Stop it!”

Whack!

“Fucki…”

Whack!

“Stop!”

Whack!

“Stop!”

Whack!

“Please stop!” Beau wailed; the blows were starting to draw blood.

Whack!

“Please!”

Whack!

Beau ran out of words and was only able to concentrate on her sobbing breaths as she waited for the next blow.

It didn’t come.

“Good.” said Xenoth smoothly, drawing Beau’s attention back to him. “You have learnt the first lesson already, be respectful and listen.”

Beau opened her mouth to say something snarky in reply, but the words froze on her lips as the dwarf raised his switch.

Xenoth smiled at her silence.

“Excellent. You are here to learn, and we are here to teach. If you do as you are asked you will have a meal three times a day and a roof over your head. If you are rude, lazy or disobedient there will be consequences as I feel you are beginning to understand. Welcome to the Archive of the Cobalt Soul Miss Lionette.”

“Fuck you!” Beau sobbed.

Whack!

…

Beau was the only student in the reserve having supervised lessons; because unlike all the other acolytes she was the only one who didn’t want to be there.

The studying was boring and jumped from one weird subject to another. One day Xenoth would have her studying the exports of Exandria and the next wig wearing mosquito demons of the Abyssal Plains.

It was almost as if he wanted to test Beau on how much useless crap he could fill her head with just so he could punish her in her confusion.

Beau knew she wasn’t stupid, but she had also learnt from childhood that it was better to purposely act like an idiot and not try, rather than try and being told she was an idiot just the same.

So, she pretended she didn’t understand. She would give wrong answers, the weirder and more confusing the better. She did her best to be the worst pupil Xenoth had ever seen.

…

But in the Cobalt Soul there was also the fighting.

That should have been cool at least.

Something violent and unladylike. Just up Beau’s alley.

But there were rules.

It wasn’t just about throwing punches

This was Morpeth’s role in her education. He was assigned to her as her fighting instructor. He was all muscle and pompous superiority that instantly rubbed Beau up the wrong way. He was also a little too fond of using that switch of his.

Morpeth was insistent that you had to have control as well as strength and stamina.

You had to understand your body.

You had to find your Ki. Find it and tap into its power… your power.

Beau was fairly certain that as funny as Morpeth’s insistence on her ‘knowing herself’ was that it was something she was just not capable of understanding.

How could what was inside her give her power? Inside she knew she was just a piece of shit… just like her parents had always told her.

So she went through the motions but never really to tried.

Most of her sparing partners were older than Beau. All of them had worked hard to be accepted by the Cobalt Soul.

Beau was an outsider; a reject.

Being here wasn’t some gift. Being here was a punishment.

She fooled everyone with her self-imposed disinterest and the fact that her opponents joyfully beat her to a pulp at every opportunity only solidified in her mind that she was right not to try.

Morpeth’s dislike of Beau was clear right from the start and with every failure came some cruel or unusual punishment.

And man, did Morpeth know his punishments.

His favourite was to make her stand balanced on one leg, usually in some excruciating martial arts pose, and recite the thirty-six precepts of the Cobalt soul.

If she stumbled on words, he would swipe her with his bamboo switch. If she lost her balance, he would beat her until she was back on one leg and muttering through the rules again.

…

Beau stumbled into the Library after a brutal session in the training room. Her head was fuzzy and the world was spinning a little like she was drunk and the cut on her forehead, there she’d careered from the training ring to collide with a wooden bench, was still dripping blood.

Xenoth sighed at the state of her and summoned a cleric.

The cleric turned out to be a smoulderingly attractive female elf; although it might have just been the concussion making the edges of the world go soft around her as she walked into the room.

Xenoth meanwhile was having a barking discussion over her head with Morpeth.

“… as important as her Martial arts training is, I do expect her be able to function in class and not bleed on the books.”

“And I expected by now she would at least have the ability to take a hit and stay on her feet for more that five seconds. One hit and she goes down like she’s not even trying.”

Beau giggled and gave the cleric a lazy wink, which must have looked rather odd on her swollen face.

“Hey, I’m always a fan of going down.” She drawled in Elven.

The cleric scowled and poked her with a less than gentle finger to pass on her healing magic. Instantly the world drew back into focus and the sharp pain in Beau’s head dissipated.

Beau noticed both Xenoth and Morpeth looking at her even as the cleric marched out a look of disgust on her face.

“You speak Elven.” Xenoth asked.

Beau took a moment to mourn the loss of the pretty face before replying.

“Shit… Yeah… Father had me learn it to converse with our customers. I wasn’t…”

“Do you know any other languages?”

“Halfling…” Beau admitted, “I had a tutor for a few years…”

“Are you fluent in both?”

“I can read, write, speak and swear in both languages. So yeah.”

“Really.” He said, “Say something in Halfling.”

“Okay?” said Beau, caught a little off guard, but then with a wicked smirk let rip with the best insult she knew.  An old habit she developed when cursing in Common in front of her Father really wasn’t an option. “Morpeth is a dog-farting sheep-whore whose mother bedded a…”

Beau found herself knocked from her chair to the floor without quite knowing how she got between the two.

Morpeth did not look amused.

“I know what that means, Beau.” He snapped, somehow talking to her in Elven, Halfling and Common all at once

“What the fuck. Let me guess your ‘Ki’ powers let you speak every fucking language as well as everything else.” She snapped, adding air quotes with her finger at the work Ki.

“As matter of fact they do.” said Morpeth coolly with the disapproving snort/sigh that he usually gave when talking to Beau for more than a few moments.

“The resting crane I think.” He said drawing his switch from his belt. “And you can recite the thirty-six precepts in Halfling for me… A long lyrical language… This should be very entertaining for me and excruciating for you.”

“That’s not fucking fair. Xenoth wanted me to say something in Halfling… ”

Beau looked to the Half-Elf for support, but Xenoth just shook his head, gathered his books, and left her to her punishment - the coward.

Morpeth dragged Beau to her feet.

“Are you angry Beau. Tell you what, you hit me and there will be no more punishment.”

This was another game of his, offer her a release for her anger she could never land.

“You want me to hit you?” Beau asked.

“I want you to try.” He began… but Beau’s fist was swinging before he had spoken the second word.

He side-stepped her punch with ease, and with his usual cruel speed struck her in the ribs in a way that made her whole body seize up.

“When you can move again. The resting crane and the Precepts in Halfling if you please.”

Gods she hated this dwarf.

…

Beau’s time at the Cobalt Soul was transformed in this moment. By her absolute hatred for Morpeth.

She finally had a purpose; a plan.

She was going to fucking humiliate Morpeth, just like he constantly humiliated her.

Fuck the Cobalt Soul and fuck her family too. The only thing that mattered now was making Morpeth suffer.

…

Xenoth knowing Beau was fluent in Elven and Halfling began adding translation work to her lessons. She was currently coming to the end of the tedious project of transcribing the epic fifty-eight stanza Halfling poem ‘Elspeth of the Flowering Grove’ into Elven for some rich merchants wedding gift Turns out taking in troubled teens wasn’t the only thing the Cobalt Soul wasn’t shy of taking money for. . Beau made it a point to do the work as slowly and badly as possible.

Xenoth arrived with bundles of paper in his hand.

“Beauregard, it is part of a monks training here at the Cobalt Soul to learn a new language. I have here a few projects you might like to select to help you on your way.”

Beau dropped her pen in the desk and scowled.

“Why? Why learn any language if your magic Ki lets to know every fucking language ever?”

“At a certain level, yes, we can speak and understand all spoken language, but we cannot read or write it.

Beau blinked.

“Is that true?”

Xenoth didn’t answer. He was too busy laying out his projects.

“There are three to choose from… This Celestial poem was found in a private archive in Rexentrum and has never been transcribed… These wall tracings from a submerged temple found in a mineshaft near Allfield are in Abyssal… This bowl was found buried near Hupperduke and is thought to be Deep Speech… it’s not believed to be dangerous but might be an interesting project as the language is so rare in this realm.”

Beau’s head was still busy with the idea that Morpeth didn’t know every language. At least not in written form. All three of these had to be obscure enough that she could insult him to his face and he wouldn’t understand.

“I’ll do it!” said Beau, almost eagerly.

“Just pick one.” He said.

Beau scoured the language section of the library bookshelves for several weeks. She tried Abyssal, but the guttural tones hurt her throat. She was too tone deaf to manage Celestial. There were just two tomes in the Library covering the syntax and phraseology of Deep Speech. It looked like she had found her project. She’d be damned if Morpeth could understand a language only spoken by Aberrations in the Far Realm and by Drow scholars in the Underdark.

Beau had always been pretty good with languages even from an early age. It wasn’t going to be easy. One of the books was in Espurar script which would require serious study in-of-itself, but she was determined, and as many an enemy knew, a determined Beau was much more dangerous that a resigned one.

…

The second challenge was to land a damn punch on the bastard.

After lights out in her cell Beau started working out. She developed her body with a routine of press-ups, push ups, squats… Any exercise that was relatively quiet and could be done in a confined space.

She even tried meditating to find her Ki, but she couldn’t sit in the silence on her own head. It was never that moment of stillness her classmates seemed to find.

So instead she also started training herself to withstand Morpeth’s punishments.

Every night she would balance on one leg and recite the 36 precepts; first in Common, then in Halfling and finally in Elfish.

She made translating them into Deep Speech her next project and eventually she was adding the fourth language to her routine.

…

It took a year of focus.

She grew fluent in a language only ever spoken in the Underdark. The bowl translation was indeed dull, a recipe for a poison brew that caused paralysis, but the language itself was weirdly wonderful.

In a year her body also grew subtle and stronger, but there was a new power behind her punches.

Maybe it was that moment of nightly ritual, when reciting the Precepts four times over gave her nothing to focus on other than her own body; her every muscle straining to remain still and balanced.

Beau had found her Ki.

And it was surprising.

Ki did not give you strength.

Ki gave you speed and precision.

Beau’s body could do what she wanted it to do almost at the speed of a thought.

But this she had also been keeping a secret.

For a year Beau played the idiot, took her punches and lived her best life as the worse person she could be. At least until the moment was right for revenge.

…

The first part started slow. She began chalking Deep Speech runes insulting Morpeth on walls. The best insult was a pictogram of an egg with three spots with the rays of the sun coming from it. A sun-roasted egg, the far realm equivalent of a piece of shit. And the pictogram for Morpeth three parallel lines, four dots and a curve like a frown.

Beau inked the pictograms in books. Chalked them onto shelves in the far library stacks. No one knew what it meant. But people started to copy it. It started to appear on walls in hands other than Beaus.

Soon not a day went by without Beau seeing somewhere a demeaning slur about Morpeth.

It felt wonderful.

…

For her final insult Beau took a pot of paint in the night and wrote the curse large on the walls of the training room.

She went to bed satisfied of a job well done.

…

The next day Morpeth was not happy. Not that he knew the walls were screaming insults at him. He only knew someone had deface his training room and even though there was no proof the one he blamed was Beau.

Fists and feet flew in Beau’s direction as Morpeth coldly looked on. But this time Archivist Xenoth was there, was well as a group of rather high up individuals from the Cobalt Soul. All examining the walls and trying to translate them.

It was eight against one as Beau faced her classmates. She could feel the swelling of her right eye and she could taste the blood leaking from her broken nose as she wiped it away from her top lip and squared up against her classmates for the next blow.

Four punches and a swipe to the legs, and Beau was flat on her face in the sand once more.

“Stop!” Morpeth called. “I’m almost starting to feel sorry for her. Do you need a break Beauregard, or have you still ‘got this’?”

Beau clambered back to her feet, a little more unsteady than she’d have liked.

God she hated this man.

“Hey Morpeth.” She cried. “You know those runes on the wall?”

“Yes Beau. Are you going to tell me you painted them.”

She shook her head and gave him her best innocent stare.

“Oh I wouldn’t dare do that sir, you might punish me. I can tell you what they say though.”

Xenoth turned.

“You can translate this?”

“Sure,” said Beau walking up to the familiar sun-roasted egg. “It’s Deep Speech. This here roughly translates as Morpeth is a piece of shit.”

Morpeth grabbed her by the neck and threw her to the ground.

“Why you little…”

Beau dodged the blow and scrambled to her feet.

“What are you straight up punishing me. I don’t get to try a land a punch first?”

“You can try…” Morpeth sneered, as he always did.

Beau swung her right hook and Morpeth smoothly ducked the blow, but like lightening Beau’s second strike didn’t miss her mark. A left knee right between his legs.

Pausing only to wink cheekily at Xenoth, Beau marched triumphantly from the training room. Her head held high as Morpeth sank to his knees, both hands clutching his manhood from Beau’s low blow.

Always go for the dick; Beau had learned that lesson long before becoming a monk.

…

The next morning there was a knock on the door and Beau rolled out of her bed ready for her punishment… but damn it was fucking worth it!

A thin half-elf stood in the doorway, Archivist Xenoth.

“Miss Lionette, I feel I have been underestimating you for too long. I shall be taking over your full training from Morpeth. I feel with the right motivation you would be an exceptional asset to this Library. I was impressed in the speed you have learnt Deep Speech and you have found a way to channel you Ki…”

Beau smiled – looks like she had rid her self of Morpeth. She eyed Xenoth and shook her head.

“Fuck off.” Beau snapped, right back in ‘don’t give a shit’ mode.

She slammed the door in his face.

…