#I cast hideous laughter at her with

[lixbf]

is it just bc im playing a drow or was the second joke from that willoughby guy at the elfsong tavern kind of. questionable

[seafarersdream]

Heck yeah Freddie Fox!!!!what if reader plays Gwayne and Alicent sister, but their chemistry is sooooo good that the creators had to cut their scenes together because "they're Hightowers, not Targaryens"🤣🤣🤣and the cast are having the time of their lives with that

Me and the Devil (Freddie Fox x Y/N)

Y/N L/N, who stars as Lady Eleanor Hightower, has an absolutely electric chemistry with her on-screen brother, Freddie Fox, who plays Ser Gwayne Hightower, much to the amusement and exasperation of the HOTD cast and crew.

TW // Strong language and profanities, incestuous undertones, sexual tension and innuendos.

The sun was rising behind the walls of the Red Keep, casting long, creeping shadows over the Outer Courtyard. Lady Eleanor Hightower, clad in the deep, grieving olive of her house, stood with an air of weary grace beside her sister, Dowager Queen Alicent. Her face was a picture of calm, though her eyes were heavy with the sorrow of loss and the weight of recent weeks.

“Do you think he’ll bring that dreadful horse again?” Eleanor asked, her voice soft but dripping with that sharp edge she never quite lost, even in mourning.

Alicent’s lips twitched, but she held her composure. "If he does, I’ll have it stabled outside the walls. I’m not having that beast piss all over the courtyard again."

The rumble of hooves on cobblestones drew their attention. The gates opened, and a column of knights in shining armor, bearing the sigil of House Hightower, entered the courtyard. At their head was Ser Gwayne Hightower, his helm tucked under one arm, revealing the tousled auburn hair and devil-may-care grin that Eleanor had grown so used to seeing—when he wasn’t hiding it behind an arrogant smirk.

“Well, well, look who it is. The fairest blooms of Oldtown,” Gwayne drawled, striding over like he owned all Seven Kingdoms. “Alicent, you’re still holding up the realm with that iron fist of yours. And Eleanor…” His eyes trailed over her, lingering just a fraction too long, “Looking every bit the grieving widow. Tell me, how does it feel to be free of that hideous arsehole, late Lord Hastwyck? May the Seven forgive him.”

Eleanor shot him a withering look, but there was a glint of mischief in her eyes. “About as good as it feels to watch you strut around like you haven’t been fucked in months.”

“Oh, fuck off, Ellie,” Freddie retorted, still in character, his grin widening. “Thought all that mourning might’ve taken the edge off your bite, but clearly, I was wrong.”

Eleanor arched an eyebrow, a smirk that could rival his playing on her lips. “And you, brother, seem as full of yourself as ever. Did the trip here inflate your ego even further?”

Gwayne grinned wider, flashing teeth. “Careful, little sister, or I’ll think you missed me.”

Alicent, tired of their verbal sparring, interjected. “Gwayne, you’ve arrived at an important time. Ser Criston Cole has replaced our father as Hand, and there is much work to be done.”

Gwayne’s grin faded into a sneer. “Ser Criston Cole? That jumped-up cunt of a knight? What, are we that desperate, we’re pulling nobodies out of the arse-end of the Kingsguard now?”

The crew, who had been trying to keep it together, finally lost it. Laughter rang out across the courtyard, cameramen shaking their heads as they tried to stay steady.

“Cut! Fucking hell, cut!” Geeta Patel called out, struggling to keep the exasperation out of her voice. She stepped forward, waving her hands as she approached the trio. “Alright, Freddie, Y/N, that was... Jesus Christ, that was incredible. But you’re not Jaime and Cersei Lannister, alright? You’re Hightowers. That kind of sibling chemistry doesn’t fly in this family. Tone down the ‘let’s fuck each other senseless’ vibes, okay?”

Freddie turned to Y/N, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “Hear that, darling? We’re too bloody hot for Westeros.”

Geeta rolled her eyes, but she was smiling despite herself. “I swear, you two are going to give me aneurysm. Just... try to remember you’re siblings. No more of that smoldering shit. The Hightowers don’t do what the Targaryens do, alright?”

Freddie put on a mock-serious face, hand over his heart. “I solemnly swear to be the picture of brotherly love. No more dirty looks, no more—“

“Smoldering looks, you tosser,” Y/N corrected, elbowing him in the ribs. “And good luck with that.”

The crew was still giggling, a few members openly impressed. “Honestly, we haven’t seen chemistry like this since Game of Thrones,” one of the grips muttered, shaking his head. “It’s fucking unreal.”

As Geeta returned to her chair, giving notes to the crew, Freddie leaned in closer to Y/N. “Honestly, how are we supposed to act like siblings when you keep giving me those eyes?”

Y/N shot him a sidelong glance. “You mean the same eyes you’re giving me right now? Don’t think I don’t notice.”

Freddie chuckled, his voice low enough that only Y/N could hear. “Well then how about we really give them something to talk about?”

Y/N swatted at him playfully. “Behave yourself, Fox. Or I’ll tell Geeta.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

Before Freddie could fire back, Geeta’s voice rang out again. “Alright, enough banter, you two. Places! And for fuck’s sake, remember—you’re Hightowers, not Targaryens or Lannisters!”

Freddie straightened up, slipping back into his role as Ser Gwayne, but not before giving Y/N one last, devilish wink. “For now,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear.

Y/N fought to keep her expression neutral, but the corners of her mouth twitched with suppressed laughter. She shot him a look that promised retribution later.

As the cameras rolled once more, they slipped effortlessly back into character, their banter sizzling with that same crackling chemistry that had the entire crew both laughing and marveling at just how damn good these two were together—siblings or not.

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On a different day, Geeta Patel was giving final instructions to Olivia Cooke and to Fabien Frankel. “Alright, Olivia, Fabien,” Geeta began, her tone calm. “This scene is all about the farewell. Criston, you’re asking for Alicent’s favor before you leave for war. This is a significant moment between you two. We need it to be subtle, yet powerful. Got it?”

Fabien nodded, his expression serious. “Got it, Geeta.”

Olivia smiled. “Ready when you are.”

Geeta gave them a satisfied nod and turned to the crew. “Okay, everyone, positions! Let’s make this one count.”

As the cameras rolled, Criston Cole approached Alicent with a grave expression, his armor gleaming in the dying light. He bowed low, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “Your Grace,” he began, his tone respectful, yet carrying an undercurrent of something deeper.

Alicent looked at him with those sharp, knowing eyes, giving him a slight nod. “May the Seven guide you, good knight,” she said, her voice soft but resolute. “And lead you not to shadow and death.”

Criston bowed his head even lower, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “I thank Your Grace for her prayers,” he replied, his voice filled with reverence.

Alicent turned as if to leave, her gown sweeping the stones with a soft rustle. But before she could take more than a step, Criston’s voice called her back. “And I would request,” he said, his words halting her in her tracks, “that Her Grace grant me her favor. That her Lord Commander may go into battle with her blessings… in his heart.”

The scene hung heavy in the air, the tension thick between them as Criston’s plea echoed through the courtyard. Alicent hesitated, her hand brushing against the delicate fabric of her sleeve as she turned back to him, her eyes locking onto his. There was a moment of silence, a breath suspended in time, as everyone waited to see what she would do.

She finally reached into her sleeve, pulling out the small, delicate handkerchief embroidered with her initials. The camera zoomed in, capturing the intricate details, the way her fingers trembled just slightly as she held it out to him. “Take this,” she murmured, her voice carrying a subtle tremor, “as a token of my favor. Return victorious, Ser Criston. And know that you carry my thoughts with you.”

Criston bowed his head, taking the handkerchief. “Your Grace,” he replied, his voice rough, “I shall return with your favor in my heart and the victory of your cause in my hands.”

The scene was supposed to be the focal point of the episode—an understated farewell between the Dowager Queen and her paramour.

Or at least, that was the plan.

In the background, Eleanor and Gwayne were supposed to be having a far simpler exchange—just a quick farewell between siblings, nothing more.

The moment the camera panned to them, what was meant to be a brief, subdued farewell exploded into something far more dramatic.

“Eleanor, my sweet sister,” Gwayne declared, sweeping her up in an exaggerated embrace, his voice loud enough to carry across the courtyard. “How will I ever endure the horrors of war without your smile to guide me through the darkness?”

Y/N played right into it. She pulled back just enough to look up at him, her eyes shining with fake tears. “Gwayne, you reckless fool, you’d better come back to me—or I swear I’ll hunt you down myself.”

The crew exchanged glances, trying desperately to keep their laughter in check as the two continued to ad-lib their way through what was supposed to be a simple goodbye.

Gwayne placed a hand on Eleanor’s cheek, his expression one of melodramatic intensity. “If I do not return, tell the world I died with your name on my lips.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” someone from the crew muttered, barely audible over the sound of snickering.

Geeta Patel, perched in her director’s chair, pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to maintain some semblance of control. “Cut! CUT!” she finally called out, though her voice was tinged with reluctant amusement. “Freddie, Y/N, what the bloody hell was that? You’re supposed to be siblings, not star-crossed lovers.”

Freddie turned to Y/N with a grin that could only be described as wicked. “Sorry, Geeta, got a bit carried away there. Can you blame me? Look at her—who wouldn’t fall madly in love?”

Y/N smirked, not missing a beat. “Don’t flatter yourself, Fox. It’s called acting.”

Geeta threw up her hands in defeat. “I swear, you two are the bane of my existence. How am I supposed to get a serious scene out of you when you keep turning everything into a bloody pantomime?”

The crew was struggling to keep it together. Even Olivia, standing nearby as Alicent, was biting her lip, trying to stay in character despite the ridiculousness happening behind her.

Freddie chuckled. “Geeta, darling, I think what we’re doing here is revolutionary.”

Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically, though she was clearly enjoying herself. “What he’s trying to say, Geeta, is that we’re just too damn good together. Maybe it’s time to change the script.”

“Or maybe,” Geeta retorted, her tone playful despite her frustration, “you two could try actually sticking to the script for once. I’m pretty sure HBO isn’t paying you to improvise a Lannister-style farewell.”

Freddie turned to Y/N, pretending to consider it. “What do you think, Eleanor? Should we behave ourselves this time?”

Y/N gave a mock sigh, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off her costume. “I suppose we could try.”

Geeta couldn’t help but shake her head as she gestured for the crew to reset. “Alright, let’s take it from the top. And this time, keep it in your pants, Hightower freaks.”

Cameras rolled once more, the scene resumed, with Criston and Alicent taking center stage as intended from the start.

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The camera opens on a sleek, modern studio set, the familiar logo of Max glowing softly in the background. Y/N and Freddie are seated side by side, relaxed and comfortable, both dressed casually but stylishly—Y/N in a chic blouse and jeans, Freddie in his usual mix of sharp yet slightly rumpled attire.

The interviewer, a young woman with a cheerful demeanor, smiled warmly at them. “Thank you both for joining us today. Why don’t we start with some introductions?”

“Hello, everyone! I’m Y/N L/N, and I play Lady Eleanor Hightower on House of the Dragon,” Y/N says, her voice smooth and confident as she introduces herself.

Freddie chimes in right after. “And I’m Freddie Fox, and I play Ser Gwayne Hightower, Eleanor’s incredibly charming, dashingly handsome older brother.”

Y/N snorts, nudging him with her elbow. “You forgot modest, Freddie. Always so modest.”

The interviewer laughs, clearly enjoying their banter. “It’s great to have you both here. So, as you know, House of the Dragon has a massive fandom, and one of the things they love to do is theorize and create ships outside of the canon. They really get invested in the chemistry between characters—and, let’s be honest, between the actors as well.”

Freddie and Y/N exchange a look, both trying to suppress knowing smiles.

The interviewer continues with a mischievous glint in her eye. “So, naturally, people are starting to wonder—could we be seeing the next Kit Harington and Rose Leslie? You know, screen partners turning into real-life partners?”

Freddie, never one to miss an opportunity for a bit of fun, suddenly turned in his seat, getting down on one knee in front of Y/N. With an exaggeratedly serious expression, he took her hand. “Y/N, dearest Lady Eleanor, would you do me the immense honor of becoming my wife? I promise to annoy you, to steal your snacks, and to outshine you in every single scene we ever do together.”

Y/N bursts out laughing, placing a hand over her heart as if genuinely touched. “Oh, Freddie, how could I ever say no to such a heartfelt proposal? But I must warn you—I take up all the covers at night, and I’m not above hiding the remote if you try to switch to football during one of our movie nights.”

The interviewer is cracking up now, along with the crew behind the cameras. “I didn’t expect this, but I’m loving it! You two are absolutely priceless.”

Freddie stood up, still holding Y/N’s hand, and they both gave a bow to the camera. “Well, you know," he says, turning back to the interviewer, “it’s all about keeping the fans on their toes. Can’t make it too easy for them to figure out what’s going on, right?”

Y/N grins. “Exactly. We like to keep things... interesting.”

The interviewer, still grinning, leans in. “So, should we start planning the wedding, or...?”

Freddie looked thoughtfully at Y/N, tapping his chin. “Well, we’re thinking of something small. Just us, a couple of dragons, and maybe a White Walker to officiate. Keep it intimate, you know?”

Y/N nodded sagely. “Very exclusive. Only the crème de la crème of Westeros.”

The interviewer shakes her head, thoroughly entertained. “Okay, okay, I think we’ve just given the fandom even more fuel for their theories! On a serious note, though, it’s clear you two have incredible chemistry. What’s it like working together on set?”

Y/N smiled warmly at Freddie before answering. “Honestly, it’s a blast. Freddie and I just click, and I think that shows on screen. We’ve got a great rapport, and it’s always fun bringing these characters to life together.”

Freddie nodded, adding, “Yeah, we give each other a lot of shit, but that’s part of what makes it work. We trust each other, and that allows us to really push the boundaries in our scenes—sometimes a bit too much, according to Geeta,” he added with a wink.

The interviewer wraps it up, still chuckling. “Well, it’s been an absolute blast talking with you both. Can’t wait to see what chaos you bring to House of the Dragon next season.”

As the camera pulls back and the lights dim, Freddie and Y/N share a quick, conspiratorial glance, knowing they’d just given the fandom more than enough to talk about—and probably a few new fanfics to write as well.

When the interview dropped on the internet, the fandom absolutely exploded. Social media was flooded with clips of Freddie’s mock proposal, and the internet lost its collective mind.

Fans were dissecting every moment of the interview, from the playful banter to the way Freddie had gazed up at Y/N during his over-the-top proposal. The comments sections were filled with fans declaring that they were “shipping” the two even harder now, some even demanding that someone should cast them both in a romcom.

Amid the chaos, Y/N decided to fan the flames a bit more. She posted a cheeky selfie on Instagram, looking effortlessly stunning as always, with a caption that read, “The coolest of the Hightower siblings.”

It didn’t take long for Freddie to jump in on the fun. He reposted her selfie to his own Instagram story, adding the caption, “THE future Mrs. Fox.”

The internet went into overdrive. Fans were tagging each other, sharing screenshots, and even their House of the Dragon co-stars started chiming in with their own comments, playing along with the joke. The whole thing had taken on a life of its own, and it was clear that Y/N and Freddie had become the fandom’s favorite new obsession.

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During a press event, when Rhys Ifans, the man behind Otto Hightower, was asked about his thoughts on Freddie and Y/N’s antics, his face split into a wide, unabashed grin.

“Well, as Otto,” he began, dropping into character with a serious tone, “I have to say, it’s a major fucking ick. Completely inappropriate! Gwayne and Eleanor getting all... cozy? That would make Otto want to strangle someone. He’d be straight to the quill, penning some strongly worded letters to sort that shit out.”

The crowd erupted in laughter, knowing exactly how Otto Hightower would react to such scandal.

“But as Rhys?” he continued, his tone shifting to one of genuine enthusiasm, “I’m all in! I mean, have you seen those two together? The chemistry is off the bloody charts! If they don’t end up getting married after all this, I’ll be sorely disappointed. They’re perfect for each other—on and off the screen.”

His lighthearted comment sent the room into a ripple of laughter, with everyone loving the idea of Rhys being a secret shipper of Freddie and Y/N.

Within hours, his quote—“Ick as Otto, but fuck yes as Rhys!”—became the battle cry of the fandom, plastered across memes, gifs, and fan art that flooded every corner of the internet. It wasn't just spreading; it was detonating.

The whole situation exploded into a full-blown phenomenon, with fans practically canonizing Rhys as the unofficial president of the Freddie and Y/N ship. People started tagging him in everything, from wild fan theories to NSFW fanfiction, with captions like “Rhys would approve” or “Otto hates it, but Rhys lives for it.”

It was unhinged, chaotic, and utterly glorious. Rhys’s endorsement didn’t just add fuel to the fire; it threw in a grenade, making the whole thing go nuclear.

[thatordinaryfellow]

What I did was hilarious. What my dnd character did almost got everyone killed.

[avocado-writing]

Can I request companions + Halsins reactions to a tav who snorts when they laugh really hard and is embarrassed about it so they try to control their laughter as much as possible?

OH i love this one!!

Astarion

oh he is delighted when he first hears you.

will 👏 not 👏 stop 👏 teasing 👏 you 👏

but you know he doesn’t really mean anything by it. if you tease him back about things in return, he thinks it’s all good fun.

eventually becomes quite fond of your laugh. it’s nice to hear something so genuine when he lives a live of exaggeration and attempting to hide his emotions.

begins to smile whenever he hears it.

Gale

so so so so pleased to have made you laugh that hard.

he sees the way you cover your mouth in embarrassment and lets you know that he finds your laugh charming. he can see how flustered that makes you but you seem pleased, too.

goes out of his way to make you chuckle from that point on. more than usual, anyway, and he looks so happy whenever you snort because of him. expect lots of daft puns.

you think maybe you’ve laughed more with Gale than you have for the rest of your life.

Wyll

genuinely taken aback, but doesn’t mean to be rude.

when he sees you’re humiliated by it, he quickly reassures you that there’s nothing wrong with how you laugh, he just didn’t expect it.

you’ve been so solemn on this journey so far, after all — he thought you were just averse to humour, not that you were trying to hide how you sounded!

encourages you to laugh more, not cover up this lovely thing about you. if anyone has anything to say about it?? well your Blade will step in ❤️

Karlach

“oh my GODS I love your laugh!”

she’s so chuffed to hear it properly! you sound so lovely!

her laugh is loud too, big and booming and takes over the whole camp.

she tries to get you to laugh more. if she knows you’re ticklish, she will descend upon you until you’ve lost it, just left in tears.

it’s hard to feel self conscious about it when she’s there, making you so happy!

Lae’zel

also not known for her sense of humour… but something happens to make you laugh one day, and you snort so loudly.

she is so shocked that she starts to laugh too, and it’s such a strange sound! like a croak. you can’t help but giggle in response.

and then the two of you are just there, like you’ve had Hideous Laughter cast on you, losing yourselves at the silliness of the situation, stuck in utter joy at each other’s laughs.

eventually you compose yourselves. she looks you in the eye, wipes away a tear.

“we never speak of this again.”

Shadowheart

giggles when she hears you, then manages to get ahold of yourself.

“sorry, sorry. I just wasn’t expecting… that.”

confesses that she’s unused to much laughter due to her upbringing, so she understands your serious nature.

but, at the same time, encourages you to express your feelings. she knows she’d love to hear you laugh more. she finds it quite sweet, actually.

and if anyone mocks you? well, no heals for them.

Halsin

also overjoyed.

does what he can to bring the sound out of you more. it quickly becomes one of his favourites.

when you confide you’re self-conscious about it, he reassures you:

”my heart, there are many wonderful sounds in nature that perhaps we don’t expect. maybe yours is one of them. it makes it no less beautiful.”

then he turns into a bear and does a forward roll which leaves you in stitches 💕

[fungusgnat444]

It might as well be spring (1945 post war König au)

SFW, slight xenophobia (someone calls König a Gerry because this is set in 1945), non canon König, implications of size difference, implications of trauma and anxiety, mentions of war, reader gets kinda harassed a little by a customer, reader’s name is Marlina, mentions of smoking, fem reader, I think that's it. Let me know if I missed anything. This chapter is relatively short 2.2k words

“Hey! You listening?”, your friend asked exasperatedly as she waved her hand in front of your vacant eyes. You were daydreaming as you often did on your criminally short coffee break. After all, Bill's Diner wasn’t exactly the most enriching place to work.  “Jeez, Marlina. Always off with the fairies, huh?”, she huffed, rolling her eyes at you. Betsy was a good friend but, by God, she was chatty. You often thought if she kept prattling on, her bottom jaw would end up falling right off her pretty little heart shaped face. Unfortunately for you, her jaw always manages to cling on somehow. 

“Sorry Bets. You were talking about Tommy again right?” You sighed as you raised your coffee mug to your lips. 

“Hey! Don’t say it like that, mopey Marli. I’m just excited, is all. He’s coming back today”, she whined as you shot her a perturbed look at the mention of the ‘fun’ little nickname she always used when she wanted to get a rise out of you.

”I know. you’ve been talking about it all week”, you chuckled weakly as she pouted at you. Boys in uniform had been coming in all day. The place was alive with their loud, cheerful chatter. The jukebox blaring, one song after the other; It Might As Well Be Spring by Dick Haymes had played more times than you could count. “… I am happy for you, Bets. I promise”, you reassured as you offered her a soft smile, patting her hand with yours. Although her chatter could get awfully repetitive, you did understand why she did it deep down. She was worried about him and for good reason. Your older brother had come home the week prior. You knew what it was like to worry yourself sick over someone; sleepless nights whenever you’d read something in the paper about the war over the shoulder of someone’s worried father as you served him coffee, waiting impatiently for the mail every Tuesday, desperately hoping another letter would come. You were just glad the war was finally over. The diner was no fun but it sure beats the monotonous work at the ammunition factory. ”… You think he’s really going to propose?”, you asked quietly as you leaned closer, a cheeky smirk washing over your face. She blushed and cast her eyes down to her lap shyly.

”He says he got me a pretty little ring from Paris”, she chuckled gleefully looking back up at you.

”Well, whatever your answer is just please, for the love of god, don’t pick those hideous lilac bridesmaid dresses you showed me. If I have to wear that I might not even show up”, you jested. She slapped you on the arm playfully as she tried her best to protest through the laughter that erupted from the two of you.

”That’s quite enough, girls. Back to work”, Bill’s gruff voice warned joylessly as he waddled past you. He was such a tubby, little grouch of a man but at least he paid well. You both stood reluctantly, rolling your eyes and groaning an annoyed ‘yes sir’.

As you tightened your pinny around your waist, you heard another groan from Betzy’s lips. “Ugh, great… More army boys”, she sighed. Your eyes followed hers out the large windows, seeing several more cars full of boisterous men pulling into the car park. You huffed as each of them bustled into the diner in their shabby green clothes. God, you were sick to death of that stupid muddy coloured fabric. A group of about five of them sat at one of your tables and whistled you over. Great… more touch starved boys for you to serve. 

“Hey fellas. What can I get for you?”, You chirped with a faux-polite grin on your face. 

“Coffee and apple pie all ‘round… maybe throw in your number just for me, sweetheart”, one of them jeered with a cheeky grin, making all the others burst into shameless laughter. It took every ounce of your remaining energy not to roll your eyes. You just stared back at them bemused as you jotted down their order. You knew they probably hadn’t seen a girl in ages but that didn’t stop you from fantasising about spitting in every cup of coffee you served them as each of their greedy eyes stripped you bare.

”Sorry, hon. My boyfriend came home last fortnight, so it seems you’re all out of luck”, A bare faced lie. The lie was worth it though; their greedy smirks all turning into butthurt pouts. You strutted away trying your best not to giggle. You walked behind the counter and Betsy’s eyes met yours knowingly, as you grinned. “Order up”, you said cheerily to Bill, handing him the order so he could fetch the pie.

As you returned to the table with the pie and began to pour their coffee, you noticed something quite peculiar out the window. At first the sight annoyed you but eventually your annoyance transformed to curiosity. Another man in uniform pulled into the car park, but this one was different. He was all alone. All day car after car had rolled in from the military base nearby; all packed to the brim with jolly, cocky boys in green. He was the first to arrive alone. Not even a hint of a smile decorated his face; a sad half finished cigarette hanging from his glum lips. His uniform was different too, the green was a deeper, forest green. On the shoulder of his jacket was a patch with red and white stripes; maybe a flag, you thought but a flag you weren’t familiar with. Maybe Poland? You couldn’t quite make it out. As you finished pouring the last cup of coffee the men sitting at the table all looked out the window and collectively groaned. 

“Oh Great. Giant Gerry’s here”, one of them grumbled. You looked at him confused.

”Giant Gerry?”, you asked curiously. All their heads turned to you, an unwelcoming look on each of their faces.

”Yeah… that's what we call him anyway”, one of them said bitterly. “He’s built like a horse and about as talkative as one. Our lieutenant says he was some kind of  double agent. He’s from… um… Belgium… or something. I don’t really remember, I don’t really care either. He’s a miserable freak”, he explained, taking a sip of his coffee.

”yeah most of the time he’ll just sit there silently watching everyone at base. Gives me the willies”, another one adds as ‘Giant Gerry’ exited his car, flicking his now spent cigarette to the ground and stomping it out with his shiny black boots. It was only when he stood that you truly understood his nickname. From where you stood his head blocked the sun like he was a great big oak tree. Now that he was out of it his car looked almost comically small; like one of the toys your little nephew would play with. You quickly looked away and retreated behind the counter to get more coffee. As the giant strode slowly to the door you poured the last cup of coffee for the men, trying your best not to stare at the way he had to duck his head to fit through the doorway. As he sat at one of the only empty booths in the place, he removed his cap, revealing a full head of curly copper locks. That’s when Betsy noticed him. Her eyes wide as she approached you. 

“Jesus… Who the hell is that?” She whispered to you. Looking back at him as he pinched the bridge of his nose and slouched slightly against the table.

”I don’t know but you’re about to find out. He’s at one of your tables”, you chuckled softly with a mocking wince.

”Marli, please. You do it. He looks like he’ll eat me alive”, she said clutching your arm. Always so dramatic. You looked at her, annoyance and a hint of fear in your eyes.

”Bets, no! I- … okay fine, but you owe me big time”, you folded, as you always do. You knew that if you made her do it, you wouldn’t hear the end of it for weeks. Plus you couldn’t deny your curiosity. She nodded emphatically and you went on your way to face the giant. As you approached you sighed shakily and mustered the most convincing smile you could. He was even more intimidating up close. His face was littered with scars, the biggest of which started at his clenched jaw, ploughed through his right cheek and finished after cutting through one of his thick, low eyebrows.  His eyes were different, however. Big, bright blue pools, glistening in the afternoon sun as he stared out of the window; heavy lidded and gentle. Eyes that didn't belong on a scarred giant like him. 

“Hello, sir. What can I get for you today?”, you ask quietly. No answer. He just kept staring out the window, his thick fluffy lashes fluttering every time he blinked. Your eyes flicked down to a badge laying against his broad chest. König. A name. Maybe that would get his attention. “Um… mister König, sir?”, you asked tentatively. Suddenly his spine straightened and his eyes snapped towards you; like a dog catching the smell of food. Now his eyes were wide and his brows were furrowed in confusion. He looked down at his name badge and back up at you, still silent. You tilted your head slightly and shifted your weight from one leg to the other. “Sir… you alright?”, 

“Sorry, miss”, he said quietly as his eyes fluttered down to look at his hands resting on the table. “Most people here don’t say my name right. I was… surprised”, he said quietly, his eyes meeting yours again. You offered him a small chuckle. “Well… there’s a fella who works at the library. I think he said his parents were… Swedish..- Anyway, his name’s Björn. I figured your O was pronounced similarly… I can't remember what those dots are called… an amulet or something”, you rambled. Oh god, you were starting to sound like Betsy.

”Umlaut… An amulet is a type of necklace, no?”, he said softly, his eyes still boring into you. His voice was deep and velvety and his accent manifested itself in throaty, rolled Rs like the purrs of a kitten and long, clear vowels. Giants aren’t meant to sound like pretty little pussy cats, are they? “I’ll have to find this library, hm? I haven’t had anything good to read for months”,

”Oh… here”, you said cheerily as you leaned forward to grab a napkin from across the table. You were about to start writing on it when he spoke again.

”what are you doing?” He asked. As you turned to face him you realised that hunched slightly over the table like this you were now at his eye level, face to face and much closer. Close enough to smell his musky cologne and feel the warmth of his brutish body. He almost looked frightened, like you’d pulled a gun on him. A giant scared of a little mouse; it would almost make you giggle if he wasn’t so imposing.

“Just giving you directions… to the library”, you uttered quietly, offering him a smile. Finally his expression softened, although his body remained rigid. All he gave you was a short little hum of acknowledgment as his eyes fluttered down to the napkin. He was probably the strangest man you’d ever met. Maybe it was a European thing, you weren’t sure but his disposition was so opposite to his appearance it was honestly a little unsettling. You started to write, trying hard to ignore the unfamiliar knot forming in your stomach. “Here’s the address. It’s right across the road from the town hall so it's pretty hard to miss”, you said gently.

he smiled gently down at the napkin for a moment. “Danke, Fräulein”, he said as he slid the napkin into one of his pockets. You stared back at him confused for quite a while before he registered that you had no idea what the hell he was saying. “Oh- thanks, miss”, he stuttered as his cheeks reddened slightly. You tried your best not to laugh.

”Anyway. What can I get for you?”,

”I haven’t looked at the menu yet, my apologies”, he said with a deep chuckle. “Hmm… what do you recommend?”, he asked.

“Well, the cherry pie here is alright. I wouldn’t touch the coffee if I were you. It’s pretty awful”, you said absentmindedly. 

“Water then. Hopefully that won’t ruin the pie, yes?”, you wrote down his order with a little chuckle.

”Any cream with the pie?” You asked. He nodded and off you went, pleasantly surprised by the polite giant. When you returned you were met with a smile. 

As you went on with your work you couldn’t help yourself from casting curious glances at him while he ate his pie. Then suddenly one of your glances was met with the sight of an empty booth. His car wasn’t even in the car park anymore. He’d vanished like a phantom. However as you approached his booth you saw what he’d left for you. The sight almost made you faint. Three dollars lay in a neat little pile on the table with a little note. Thankyou for being so kind. König. You called over Betsy who let out a dramatic gasp at the sight. “Jeez, Marli! I guess he liked you”

those words would end up being truer than you could ever imagine.

Hope y’all enjoyed it. I’m already working on part 2. 3 American dollars in 1945 is the equivalent of about $50 today btw. Our big Austrian boy is so silly sometimes hehe. Title comes from a song called it might as well be spring by Dick Haymes. It’s pretty cute hehe

[randoimago]

hi kat ! um could i request some kinda hurt-comforty headcanons of reader being worried that the discrimination they face in being a drow, tiefling, or something of the like, would come to affect their romantic partner (maybe gale and shadowheart?) if they decided to get together, and their partner reacting to reader's fear that they could get hurt while with them.

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Character(s): Gale, Shadowheart

Note(s): Fantasy racism is always such an interesting thing. Kind of wish there were more "Go fuck yourself" comments you could make if you played a gnome considering there's quite a few times you can defend yourself as a tiefling or drow meanwhile gnomes are constantly clowned on (spoken by someone that played a gnome the very first time I've ever played D&D)

I wrote Gale with Drow Reader and Shart with Tiefling

Gale

Oh he definitely understands your fear but he's more concerned about your safety than his own. There is a lot of discrimination towards drow especially with the Absolute nonsense.

If he does hear anything rude said then he's casting some hideous laughter their way and taking you to a garden or a nice book store to relax with him instead.

If you're ever worried about his opinion on you because of the racism you've gotten from others, then he's more than happy to tell you all about how much he loves and appreciates you.

Shadowheart

Considering her reaction to Karlach, she definitely doesn't mind your race at all. As for how others react, she'd tell you to ignore them. The thoughts and opinions of random populace mean nothing to her.

She won't completely dismiss your worries, she understands your fear, but know that it won't make her view you any differently in her eyes. Now hold her and stop worrying!

Shadowheart really would be the one to hear someone say something rude or offensive about you and then immediately pull you into a kiss. Wouldn't care who watches. And if they continue talking crap then she has a few spells ready to go.

[rinrinx2]

hellooooo. i just stumbled upon your account and gosh, i love it soooo much. i love your writing and works especially the one rindou with his son <33

i was just wondering if i could request rindou with pregnant reader that is so insecure because of changes that happen to her body?? (for example she gain weight and has stretch marks). and rindou comforts and reassure her that she's the prettiest and the only girl that he loves. she often thinks that rindou will leave her bcuz she is 'not pretty and attractive' anymore. and she easily get jealous of other girls if rindou *unintentionally* looks at them when the reader and rindou are going out having their date.

i hope this isn't too hard or complicated. also i'm sorry for my bad english. i hope you have a nice day (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)❤️

Babe never apologize for your English mine is worst and I hope you enjoy this!

.

Eight months

Rindou x fem!reader

Warnings: pregnancy, body image

When you had told people you were pregnant in your first trimester you were met with comments of how the further your pregnancy progressed the more you would glow. How having another life forming inside you would cause you outer appearance to become more radiant.

Goddess like was the term majority used.

But now you were currently 8 months pregnancy and all you wished is that you could tell these things that they should not have been selling you fake fantasies.

As now you stood infront of you full body mirror in nothing but your underwear. Taking in your body, looking at every stretch, scar and discolored body part.

'I'm so hideous' your mind kept on repeating.

As you criticized yourself over and over, as the woman your eyes saw in the mirror was not the one you were 8 months ago. It was no wonder that when you went out with Rindou that he would look at other women. They weren't as massive as you, they weren't covered in stretch marks, their ankles weren't swollen and they didn't waddle when they walked.

You couldn't stand the sight before you, it was just a reminder of how much your body was unrecognizable to you, and you were sure Rindou felt them same. If you found out that Rindou was seeing another woman behind your back you wouldn't be surprised; any man would choose be with anyone over a woman the size of watermelon.

You were so deep in your dark thoughts of self loathing as you quietly spoke to yourself that you hadn't heard you husband walk into your bedroom.

"You whispering spells there to yourself" Rindou joked hearing as you were muttering to yourself.

The comment Rindou made was light hearted and by the laughter when he finished spoke you knew he was only joking but your mind told you that he wished for you to cast a spell to make you appear better.

Silenced over came the bedroom as your mind delved deeper into your hateful thoughts, until Rindou spoke again.

"You shouldn't be standing in front of the mirror like that"

"Why because I'm hideous, I know Rindou you don't have to tell me" you snapped back finally having enough of your mental warfare that you were not good enough.

"No, because the window is open and others can see you" Rindou replied back with shocked expression and a worried tone.

"Oh because you're embarrassed to have people see me like this, well so am I !"

"No, because other men could see you and you're my wife and I'd rip their eyes out if they ever had the honour to see you that bare" Rindou said still in the same panicking tone.

Your eyes still locked onto your body, as you felt the tears fork on your lashlin from anger.

Rindou remained still on his spot, worried over your erratic reaction to his words. He understood that pregnant women had severe mood swings but he had never seen you so upset.

"What's going on (Y/N)?" Rindou asked as be walked over to where you stood gently wrapping his arms around your waist till his hand rested on your globe of your tummy.

"I'm hideous Rindou, I'm so big and ugly. Its no wonder you look at other girls when we go out, I look like a pregnant ogore. I'm like shrek if he was pregnant" you said tearfully feeling as liquid ran down your cheeks with each word.

Rindou's heart ached at your words he hadn't known that you felt so deeply about your body and he felt even worst for not noticing this.

"Hey don't say that it's not true"

"It is" you said crying harder.

Rindou looked at the reflection of your body in the mirror, taking in every stretch mark, scar and discolouration on your body. How the curves of your body were much more softer and plumber, how you body flowed like a winding river, like a Goddess.

"(Y/N) your body is beautiful" Rindou said as he continued to stare at your reflection.

"You're only saying that to make me feel better" you babbled out through sobs.

"I'm not just saying it to make you feel better. Your body is truly beautiful. Your body is like a temple and it's devoted slave. Not only is your body keeping you alive but our child, everything your body is doing now it to make sure that our baby is safe and healthy and that beautiful and what makes it even more beautiful is that you're still able to do everything you did when you weren't carrying this growing life"

"Those stretch marks show how our child has been growing, and your swollen ankles how strenuous you have been. This beautiful bump I'm touching is where out baby is, and it's in you. You don't understand how it feel to know that the woman I love is carrying our baby, that her body is carrying so much joy awaiting the world" Rindou said as he began to caress your bump, while the tears on your cheeks began to dry.

"(Y/N) I can't explain it but your body is just as beautiful as it was when you weren't pregnant. You know my words are true because we've been doing it every night thrice when you aren't tired" Rindou said with a chuckle, as heat rose to your cheeks at his remark.

"And about me looking at other women (Y/N)" Rindou said as he let go of your waist to quickly walk over to his bedside table dresser reaching into one of the draws.

"I'm not looking at the women (Y/N)" Rindou said as he walked back over to holding a box in his hand.

"Here" Rindou said placing the box in your hand as you opened it to reveal a beautiful gold bracelet, with yours and Rindou's initial engraved into it.

"I'm never looking at the women, I'm looking at their jewelry so that I can get you something similar" Rindou admitted as he scratched the back of his head.

"I didn't want you to know because I want you to think that I have a sense of style" he said rolling his eyes, while yours became bigger with admiration.

You looked at Rindou, with the biggest smile on your face.

"I never doubted you for a moment Rin" you said as you wrapped arms around his shoulder giving embracing him in a hug.

"Weren't you now just mad at me" Rindou replied.

"Shh don't ruin the moment"

.

.

.

All rights reserved to @rinrinx2

[theprettynosferatu]

Note: This is not a kink story, it's a psychological horror story. Still, I hope you'll enjoy it! The character of Shaun was created by hTheconqueror.

I

Beyond the door, the party rages on. Shaun wants to go back, desires it with the kind of longing women expressed in letters to their boyfriends at war, long, long ago. Instead, he looks at the mirror. The bags under his eyes. The stubble. The sheen of insomnia and alcohol coating his eyes. He feels as if he wears his sins on his very skin. How others can look at him and not notice them is a mystery to him. 

Lucille would notice them, if she saw him. She wouldn’t say a thing, of course. But she would give him The Look: that silent judgment their parents had perfected and passed on to their golden child, their pretty, demure, perfect daughter. Shaun could see her in his mind, head down in the books, taking notes, repeating out loud the key points of the topic at hand. He feels his chest tightening, his feet growing cold, something like a slug crawling up his spine. He should be doing the same thing. He should have devoted more time to his studies, to avoid the need of a late term crunch. He shouldn’t be at a party. 

He tries to push the guilt away. What good will it do now? He’s here. He should be enjoying himself, like everyone else out there. Way to go, kiddo. Locked in a stranger’s bathroom, not doing what you should do, not doing what you want to do- or what you think you want to do to avoid facing what you should do. Fucking grand champion you are. The thoughts come to him unbidden, solid like stones. Well, let he who is without sin cast the first one. Shaun sure as Hell isn’t without sin, but that doesn’t keep him from stoning himself. Do the voices sound more like his parents or his sister, he wonders. 

He knows he’s spiraling. And the only way to keep it from getting even worse is to ignore it all. Get out there, try to regain some of that enjoyment, of that being-in-the-moment. Yes, ignore everything. That has worked so, so well.

Fuck it. There’s a party out there, and Shaun intends to enjoy himself. He takes a deep breath, counts to five. Exhales, counting to eight. Waits for a count of three. Inhales again, repeats the process until he feels like something close to himself. The door handle reminds him of the coat of sweat on his palms, but he chooses to ignore it. He can fake it until the pleasure becomes real again, the laughter sincere.

The smell of weed is almost overpowering, even with the windows cracked open. He wishes, just for a moment, that he could partake in that particular vice. It feels so seductive to just smoke his worries away. To let go of his own need to keep a grip on things. But he knows he won’t do it. There are sins and there are sins and his family has put the fear of God and Drugs deep inside him from birth. Just getting drunk is a transgression he knows he’ll pay for in both hangover and shame soon enough. He suspects he might be getting a contact high for a moment, before remembering that his stupid brain doesn’t need chemical assistance to go into full alert for no reason.

And Shaun is certainly going into full alert. Like machine gun fire, details and sensations batter down his senses. The way a ring sparkles, reflecting the cheap LED strips that provide so-called “ambiance” to the house party. How a girl to his left lets loose a little sort of yelp every time she laughs. Slightly crooked glasses frames on running makeup. One of the speakers failing, distorting the high-end of the music. The scent of butane from a guy playing with a lighter. An amorous couple in a dark corner, his face buried in her neck. The taste in the air of slightly charred brownies. Everything is too near. Too clear, and at the same time, slightly warped, as if coming to him from behind a subtle veil. 

Then the battle begins. Shaun would welcome the distraction, if only the intruder’s shirt wasn’t a hideous Hawaiian mess of clashing colors that is, in itself, an attack on everyone watching in general and Shaun in particular. The Man in the Shirt is arguing with the frattish kid manning the laptop and blasting the kind of music that commands the listener to dance and have the night of their lives. Some wasted chick tries to ride in aid of the poor, besieged DJ. One of her stockings has run down to her mid-thigh. Shirt Man seems to be shouting. Shaun half-wishes he could know what he’s saying, while part of him is grateful for the distance sheltering him from both words and the full effect of The Shirt. Eventually Shirt Man prevails, and DJ Kid cuts his losses. Shaun feels like he’s melding with the wall. 

Shirt Man seems to have interesting tastes. All his songs seem to be from between 1982 and 2001, no further. The crowd is most certainly not feeling it. Shaun feels invisible, watching just as a scientist would observe a primitive tribe. No one dares challenge Shirt Man, who appears to be getting more and more angry at the people’s lack of enthusiasm for his musical selection. Shirt Man’s eyes scour the living room, studying every reaction. When they set on Shaun, a chill goes down his legs and he looks down. Don’t look at me, Shirt Man. I can’t stand to be looked at right now. Focus on your own shit, man. People are leaving.

Shaun decides to leave as well. It feels like defeat. Unable to do productive things. Unable to relax like a normal goddamn person. Failure. His exit has the taste of punishment- not by the hand of God but by his own, shaped and molded by God’s rules. Or his parents’ rules. Same thing, really. 

Outside, the moon appears to watch him with bemused indifference as he walks back to his apartment.  

II

After three sleepless nights, Shaun decides he hates the sun, that unblinking eye, like God’s gaze, casting light on his every sin. He knows it’s irrational, but he can swear there’s a mark on him, a malaise that everyone can see. He’s stained, polluted. Broken.

He wants to tell everyone to stop looking at him. He wants to punch his roommate Raul for putting him in this situation. A walk would be good for you, man. Yeah, right. 

He’s being unfair. He knows it. Raul is worried. Shaun wishes Raul would just leave him the fuck alone. But then again, what good would that do? Three days of supposed crunch, and nothing to show for it. Every second brings him closer to a final deadline that looms, in his mind, with the mortifying certainty of death. He knows it’s not a life or death situation. He wishes he could convince his chest of that fact, but his heart keeps pounding away in a mad frenzy.

Everything around him feels unreal. Distant. The street is a mess of color and movement with no meaning. His steps lead him nowhere. He wants to be inside, anywhere with four walls and a roof- like a womb, or a safe bubble. But he knows the instant he finds a place, he will feel claustrophobic, with every nerve ending screaming to get out. No peace indoors. No peace outdoors. Sweating like a condemned man walking up the gallows.

Insomnia is one hell of a mindfuck, he thinks. Hours spent reading books, only to not recall anything except a phrase here, a fragmented piece of a diagram there, half a definition of a term he should know, but can’t recall. A waste of time. Unable to sleep. Unable to be productive. Utterly useless. Even his perception is misfiring- startled by something moving right at the edge of his vision. Something that isn’t there. At least out in the sun he’s not scaring himself to death with imaginary phantoms. No, he’s scaring himself to death with real people, looking at him, seeing him in all his pathetic mediocrity. Oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself. So you have a final. Boo-fucking-hoo. There’s people out there with real problems. What right do you have to collapse over a task so simple your sister could do it without breaking a sweat? She has been through shit too, you know. And you don’t see her fucking up her life- and you, bucko, are fucking up big time.

Ice-cream. The thought appears like a raft in the middle of a storm. If anything has remained true in Shaun’s life, is that ice-cream makes everything better. Despite all the changes, despite moving across the world with his family, despite his constant shortcomings as a person… ice-cream is always there.

He looks at the list on the wall. The ice-cream parlor feels small. Oppressive. The words seem to slide right off him. None of the flavors seem appetizing in the slightest. Shaun tries to remember what each of those words tastes like, tries to figure out what he wants. What the fuck does he want? Shit, shit, the line is moving too fast. The girl behind the counter looks bored out of her mind. Don’t look at me. Don’t see me. Don’t see my failure. 

He ends up ordering almond chocolate, just because it was his favorite as a kid, more as a reflexive action than a real choice. Anything to get out of there. Anything to get away from the girl’s eyes.

He’s eating ice-cream on a park bench. Alone. It tastes like nothing. His mind keeps racing as he devours the treat, not taking the time to enjoy it. Not that there’s anything to enjoy. It’s just… ice-cream. How stupid is he? Why did he think ice-cream would solve anything? How pathetic he must look, he figures. Eating his sad little ice-cream by himself. People must pity him. He can almost feel their disdain as they walk by. He deserves it. He deserves their scorn.

Well, great job, Ice-Cream Boy. You can’t even relax right. Let’s add this to the ever-growing list of your failures, shall we?

It sure feels like a failure. Shaun wonders back home, trying not to look at people’s faces. Maybe he’ll be able to nap, he figures. Yes. A nap would fix him. And after that, he could truly buckle down and study. That’s the ticket.

He wishes he could believe it.

III

A restless, half-sleep. Exhaustion closes Shaun’s eyes. Before he knows it they spring open, his heart beating as if he’s falling into an endless, merciless void. He’s sweating. His sheets feel like a thousand hands suffocating him. He tries to take slow, calming breaths. He puts on relaxing meditation videos on his laptop. He tries to push it all down, to go back to something resembling normalcy. His eyes close and he drifts to sleep, only to wake up again with a scream stuck in his throat. He realizes he’s too tired to actually scream, even if he wanted to. Time gets fragmented. A wink can take an hour. An hour can feel like a week. Blood rushes through his veins. He needs to escape, but there’s nothing chasing him, nowhere to run to. Anywhere he goes, he will be there. He can’t escape himself. The thoughts come to him, taunting him. Birds start chirping outside, announcing the dawn to come. He hates them. They sing his sleepless night. They mock his failure to sleep. He sits up, shaking. It’s there again, just… there, at the edge of sight- some blur of clashing colors that vanishes as soon as he tries to focus on it. There’s nothing there, boy. Your mind is too tired to make sense. You can’t trust that rusty tangle of cables you call a brain.

Part of him wishes Raul would wake up. Wishes he could tell him how fucked up he’s feeling. Wishes his roommate will somehow find the exact words to make it all better. Oh, you sound like a kid longing for mommy. How pathetic can you get? As the first rays of sunlight slither through the window, he gets up. He needs to be out of his room. Anywhere else will be better. Oh, you idiot. Anywhere is the same. He shambles down the hall, collapses on the couch. Broken. Broken. Broken. The word gets stuck in his head, an endless loop shutting out all hope. The ice is cracking, little broken boy. You’re going under.

“Hey. Did you sleep on the couch?”

Shaun wishes that was the truth. Raul is looking at him with a degree of concern that feels both frightening and somehow insulting, like Shaun is transparent, all his fucked up thoughts plain to see. Don’t. Look. At. Me.

“No. I just… I…”

“Hey. Shaun. It’s okay. Did you manage to get any sleep? At all?”

“No.”

“Shit.”

The silence grows heavy between them. Maybe it’s a male thing, Shaun half-thinks. Maybe Raul is particularly ill-equipped to help. Maybe Shaun was deluded in his desperate hope. His friend won’t help. He can’t help. No one can help.

“I think… there’s something wrong.”, Shaun manages to get out with a shivering voice.

“Well, of course. I… Maybe you can just not turn in that final… it wouldn’t be, you know, great, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Maybe you’ll have to retake that course, but…”

“It’s not just the final.” Shaun says, oddly feeling the absence of an anger he knows he would normally feel. “It’s something else. Something… I don’t know how to explain it…”

“Just do your best, man. Lay it on me.”

“I think I might be going crazy.”

“That’s a big, you know, like a big-big statement”

“Yeah. I know, but…”

“And not sleeping is not always a sign of madness, right?”

“Sure. Whatever. Raul, listen. It’s not just the insomnia, okay? I’m being serious. I’m… seeing something.”

“Something? Seeing what?”

“I… I don’t fucking know, ok? It’s just, like… a blur of swirling, clashing colors, except they’re not there if I look at them. I know I’m making zero sense, but… I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s this color that’s not a color, and it’s watching me. I feel how… petty it is. How cruel. And it’s always looking at me, always there, all night, just… watching.”

Raul is scared now. It’s obvious to Shaun, no matter how much his friend tries to hide it. Eyes darting around the room. His tell-tale leg bouncing. He’s afraid. Not of Shaun, not of the being haunting him, but for Shaun. It feels worse than anything else, and yet even the self-pity Shaun experiences is strangely… dull. Like a shadow of a feeling. 

“Look, man, just… stay here, okay? Rest up. I have to… I have to go to work, but when I come back we’ll figure it out. I think I have some pills somewhere that…”

“No pills, please. I…”

“What, could they make you feel worse? How? Look, they’re just normal anxiety pills. A lot of people take them every now and then. You need to sleep, man!”

Shaun can’t fight him. He shakes on the couch as Raul opens drawers and looks inside bags, until he announces his triumph with exaggerated, theatrical gestures. Shaun figures Raul is trying to pretend things aren’t so bad, and failing badly at it. Fine. Pills it is.

Raul leaves. Shaun shakes, covered in sweat. The pills kick in quickly, sending him into more restless not-sleep. He blinks hours away. He wants to scream and cry and end it all. The only thing he can do is stay there, on that damn couch, shaking.

IV

A hand on his foot rips him from a nightmare. There’s a mixture of feelings inside Shaun: a faraway, muted safety, almost as if that single hand was the one thing holding him together lest his chest explode; at the same time, a profound misery and some remnants of anger try to surface once he realizes who the hand belongs to.

“Hey.”, says his sister.

“Why are you here?”, is all Shaun can muster. Rude. Petty. Pathetic. Lucille should be acing tests. She should be doing whatever it is perfect fucking people do. Instead, his sorry state has brought her here. Wasting her time. She really is wasting her time, isn’t she? You’re not worth her time.

“Raul texted me. Said you were sick- didn’t go into detail but he seemed really freaked out. Did you see a doctor?”

“I’m not sick. I’m… I’m not okay, but I’m not sick. No point in seeing a doctor. They wouldn’t be able to help.”

“Okay… it’s a… psychological issue. So what? There are doctors for that too, you know. And… I mean, do you want to talk about it?”

“What’s the time?”

“Sorry?”

“What time is it, Lucille? Is it night already? I have no fucking notion of… it’s just… the fucking pill Raul gave me, it made me all loopy. I’ll… I’ll be fine, okay? But… is it night?”

“Why? What happens at night?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. But it’s worse at night. The thing, it- nevermind.”

“The thing? What thing? Look, I get it. You don’t want to talk about it, and you certainly don’t want to tell me about it, but there’s nothing to be ashamed of, okay? Whatever it is, whatever you’re… sensing, or seeing, or feeling… you can tell me. If you broke a leg, would you be embarrassed to see a doctor? This is the same. The brain is an organ and it can-”

“Look, Lucille, I appreciate it. I do. But I’m not dealing with a bone here. People don’t… you know, when you have a cast on your leg. And anyway Raul should be home soon so he…”

“Yeah, he, um, he’s gonna crash with some friend tonight”

You scared him. He can’t stand being near you, you crazy freak.

“Don’t worry. I’ll stay with you, if you’ll let me”, says Lucille. Oh, good. Girl is going after all the good Samaritan points. Shaun is too tired to argue, but he’s not about to spend a night with the living embodiment of everything he has failed to be. He gets up, dizzy- fucking couch. He hates the couch. Hates that he spent all day on it. Hates that Lucille saw him that way. Hates her. Hates himself. And yet only the last part feels truly real. The rest is less an emotion and more a secondhand telling of an emotion, or an emotion described by a particularly lazy narrator. A silhouette of where an emotion should be. He gestures at the fucking couch.

“You can… there. I’ll… just go to bed”

He shambles back to the room. Closes the door. He needs to be alone. He needs to rest. He needs to get his head straight, somehow. He needs to show Lucille he’s not some pitiful, crazy, charity case. If only he could calm his mind, have some proper sleep…

He’s on the bed. Did he fall? No. No, he was pushed… by… colors. Pushed by colors? That’s insane. A scream dies in his throat as a weight pins him down and a single second of pain assaults him, like syringes in his neck…

Then, peace. Simple, complete, blissful peace. His heart rate slows down. His breathing steadies. He feels as if he’s floating. Light. It’s okay. Everything is okay. Everything will be okay. His heart slows down more and more. Good. Things start going dark. That’s fine by him too. 

Suddenly, his peace is ripped away. The figure towers over him, flushed, rejoicing. Colors that slowly start making sense. The ugliest Hawaiian shirt he’s ever seen. Then, the Shirt Man smiles, his pupils like needlepoints. 

“Still not enjoying my tunes, asshole? I saw you, staring at me. Yes, you freak. Freak. I’ve felt that fucking brains of yours. Didn’t have to twist too much, didn’t I? Mr. Too-Good-For-Your-Music. Mr. Too-Classy-For-Your-Shirt. That’s what you thought, wasn’t it? What? Too sexy for this shirt? Too sexy for this shirt? Right Said Fred, ninteen-ninety-fucking-one! You uncultured swine! You fucked up freak! I barely had to break you! You were already broken! I like that you’re bro-ken…”

Shaun is too weak to move. Shirt Man is dancing. Shaun can’t tell if the creature is screaming or whispering. He seems to be doing both. Darkness crawls from the edges of his vision. He wants to scream for help. He can’t. Too tired. Too late. Failure. As usual.

“And now you die. Die-die-die! It’s shutting down. I can hear it, you know? It’s slowing down- your heart. Your breaky-achy-heart, bozo! No tomorrow… no tomorroOooow…”

Somehow his singing hits every note but the right one. Shaun can’t help but notice. It’s all so ridiculous. This is how he dies: serenaded by an off-key creep in the most offensive shirt ever manufactured. A smile almost forms on his pale lips.

“What’s so funny? I’m funny? Funny? You’re dying and you find it funny? No, no, no, you’re mocking me! Still! Still! You’re dying and you’re mocking me! So cruel! I gave you my gift of illumination! I made you see the world, feel the world how it truly is! And I’m giving you an exit! And you mock me? I give you all a boy could give you! Oh, tainted fuck! No. No, no no. I take it back! You don’t deserve an exit!”

Shirt man bites his own arm, and pushes the bloody wound on Shaun’s mouth. Shaun’s out of it, almost like he’s watching a reaction video of someone watching the scene. His lips part, almost by instinct.

“Yes! Do it! Feels good, doesn’t it? Celebrate good times, come on! Celebrate forever and ever and ever, you pathetic clown! No rest for the terminally classless!”

It’s fire. It’s a spring in the desert. It’s a lover’s caress. It’s a mother’s hug. Shaun drinks it all in. When the arm is pulled away, he convulses on the bed. Death. Finally.

“There’s nothing left to do but say goodbye…”, laughs Shirt Man.

V    

A blast to the chest. Shaun feels as if he’s having a heart attack- a feeling that vanishes as quickly as it came, leaving behind barely an afterimage as something else, something more urgent, pulses inside him. He can hear something pounding, so close, almost as if it’s beating the insides of his skull.

His eyes open and a tidal wave hits him. The moonlight shimmering on every speck of dust floating in the air around him. The breathing of the neighbor’s dog. The stench of a long-forgotten chip under the bed. It’s all too much. Too much. Shaun wants to just curl up on the ground and let everything wash over him. To just… not be there. 

But he can’t. The pounding is getting stronger. It demands something from him. What, he cannot tell- only that a scent is coming from the living room, beckoning him, conquering every other emotion until his existence is reduced to a constant, meaningless barrage of stimuli. The creaking of his soles on the floor. The almost painful coldness of the door handle. The sweet, sickly perfume of shampoo, applied earlier in the day. The glint of half-formed tears in a pair of eyes. The slushing of blood coursing through veins. And the pounding of a heart, quickly accelerating. There’s nothing else. Nothing to think, nothing to consider. No hope to stop what’s going to happen. Nothing but red.

Elation. Peace. Ecstasy. Everything he could ever want or need, the only thing that matters, that will ever matter. It comes in delightful waves, coming slower and slower to Shaun until his heavenly tranquility fades away.

She looks too white, almost hurting his eyes. Shaun can almost see how cold his sister’s body is. The almost invisible marks he left on her neck. 

No. It’s not real. Can’t be. He refuses. 

He’s standing on a street he has never seen before. How did he get here? Dazed, he looks down. The red is too bright, strident, painful. The coppery smell, overwhelming. No, it can’t be her blood. How long was he… out?

A voice sings in the distance. Where? Shaun doesn’t know. He takes one unsure step, then another. Maybe he should clean up. Maybe he should hide. Maybe he should run the other way. But the song beckons, the night awaits, the city wears a new vibrancy. Step by step, he goes deeper into the maze of alleyways, one hungry shadow among many.

His heart is not beating. He knows it. And yet he can feel the tension in his chest, like the pain from a phantom limb. He can taste his sin like tar in his mouth. He feels hollowed out, and the space of what he once was filled by the dense fog of shame. He follows the song. There’s nothing else for him to do- and part of him hopes and dreads that the silent melody will lead him to another few precious, terrible moments of sweet, red relief.

Did you like this story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu

[jq37]

The Report Card – Fantasy High Junior Year Ep 5

Attack of the Rage Mages

Welcome back to the Report Card where the Bad Kids are ready to fucking fight dude! Even the battle episodes this season are super beefy and I am having a crazy busy week so I’m going to do my best to try and strike a balance between giving y’all all the key details and being efficient. 

To remind you guys of the setup: The Bad Kids have just been portaled to the Synod Mall by Adaine who was working there when Cassandra (there with Kalina to pamphlet) suddenly cried out in pain and started expelling crystal shards that are turning the mages that interact with them into beefy rage monsters who are attacking indiscriminately.

Also, a detail I didn’t mention last recap but is relevant in this one, hanging from the ceiling, kinda looking like the one in Grand Central Station, is a shifting interdimensional clock (since people visit the Synod from lots of places/dimensions and need to know their specific time). 

OK, that’s everything you need to know! I’m gonna do this fight in bullets and focus on just the key points, and then jump into the things that matter more in the thoughts section. Onward!

Adaine clocks the crystals as being from the school of Enchantment. She uses Dimension Door to get Kristen right next to Cass who is getting bigger and more pissed. She’s even MORE pissed when Adaine asks Kristen if she should hit her with her sword. 

Cass tries to cast Hold Monster on Kristen (ow) and Fig dispels it. Cass is also not happy about that and her skull flashes to her Nightmare King form for a moment. 

Fabian clocks that things are about to get real and then does a TON of very cool, very impressive combo fighter/bard stuff. Everyone is playing really mechanically smart this episode but I have to say, he especially impressed me. 

Riz checks the clock and sees that even though it’s only been a few seconds in the Synod, it’s been like 40 minutes in Spyre. Fabian checks in with the Hangman telepathically so he can do damage control and Fig wonders if they can use the clock to go back in time and not be late for the party. 

Kalina goes invisible but Adaine can see her with her Divination powers and can see that her eyes are slitted and narrow and her tail is twitching. 

Several of the red crystals have infected mages at this point and after Riz goes, using Tasha’s Hideous Laughter to distract one of the mages, the crystals whisper Cass’s name and the mages who aren’t distracted go for her. 

Fabian attacks one (an attack of opportunity I believe) and Brennan notes as he slices them that they seem to have way more blood than usual under a lot of pressure, which is odd enough that I wanted to note it. 

One of the mages does a whirlwind attack that hits Kristen, Adaine, Kalina and Cass. Cass and Kristen have at least this in common: they both fail the save and take the full 30 points. Cass yells for the mages to stop attacking and the red within her glows brighter.

Fig uses Suggestion to recruit one of the uninfected mages to help by Counterspelling anything harmful cast on Kristen. Luckily, Conor Counterpsell happened to be at the mall that day and is now at her service! She also hits Cass with a bardic saying that they’re there for her and that she doesn’t think she’s scared so much as pissed which is totally valid. Very rock and roll. 

Cass commands everyone to get back and does a wave of necrotic damage to everyone around her. It seems a bit indiscriminate–even Kalina is hit which she wouldn’t usually do on purpose even as the NK. 

Gorgug asks for an insight check to know if the crystals here are in any way related to the crystal in Lydia Barkrock’s chest that is keeping some evil at bay with her constant rage. Brennan gives a surprised but pleased Cheshire Cat grin. No roll necessary: they’re def related in some way. These pulse and move much more rapidly though. Hers pulses like a heartbeat. 

On Kristen’s turn, she gives Cass a heartfelt apology about dropping the ball in general and missing this meeting specifically. She says she didn’t realize she was supposed to be here this time and she understands Cass being upset. Because this is season 3, I don’t even need to tell you what Ally rolls on this Persuasion check. But I will, because that’s what a recap is. 

On Kristen’s Nat 20 (this is why she keeps getting gods despite her track record), Cassandra is instantly calmed and brought down to her regular size. She expels 7 more of those shatter star crystals and she’s bleeding and scared. She clearly internalized what Fig told her though because she also says that she’s pissed. All she wanted was to help! The red in her pulses as she says, “It isn’t f–” She doesn’t seem to be able to get out the word “fair”. And she sees that she’s freaking out Kristen with the red pulse so she tries to calm down. 

Round 2 (Breaking This Up Because Tumblr Hates Big Text Blocks)

Adaine summons a mall cop but even a wizard mall cap is still a mall cop and thus, useless. Adaine offers to Dimension Door Cass away but Cass wants to stay and fight. “How are they back here?” Cass says about the stars. “I thought you were dead.” (On an Insight check, Kirsten doesn’t think that this is NK related).  

Adaine has her coolest moment of the episode here (imo) where she casts True Strike and Steel Wind strike and then attacks again and again and again with her Sword of SIght doing 41 damage each to 4 of the stars. Brennan narrates it as the hits being foretold by her divination. It’s very cool and I’m glad Adaine can do melee attacks now. 

Kalina turns back visible as it looks like the battle is turning in their favor. She shoots Riz  a low, playful , “Hey Riz,” because of course she does. 

It’s now Cass’s turn. She’s back to herself, she’s a goddess, it looks like she’s about to end this fight super early into the runtime. But then…

OK, things go bonkers for a sec. Stick with me. 

Cass thanks Fig for the advice–seemingly utilizing her Bardic. She’s about to do some kind of Mass Dispelling. But then Fig starts to feel all weird and hot and her stomach gurgles. A fire elemental who I assume is on autopilot offers Fig a sample of shrimp and, for SOME REASON, despite her stomach feeling weird and them being in PITCHED COMBAT (Ally’s words lol), Fig takes a shrimp. The plate flips which starts a series of Rube Goldberg ass events that end with Cass choking on a piece of shrimp/having an allergic reaction (a thing that can apparently happen to a god) and going unconscious. At the table, the Intrepid Heroes are baffled except for Emily who is laughing hysterically. 

Riz notices a drip of tartar sauce on Fig's shirt and finally realizes that she’s exhibiting some real Gilear behavior. He puts together that the effect that Cass didn’t save from (hmmm) was somehow connected to Fig giving her Bardic. 

Fig quickly explains what happened with her unlocking something to help with the Night Yorb fight in ep 1 (she calls it an ancestral curse which is funny bc she’s not blood related to Gilear. Diversity win! This ancestral curse recognizes that non-traditional family structures are still just as valid!). Conor Counterspell is like Y’ALL there is a FIGHT happening to try and get them back on task. Before she does though, Fig (and Adaine) see a vision of the gleaming, golden Pride armor from the Bottomless Pit that Gilear wore back in SY. A voice says, “It was not yours to take” Ominous! Adaine’s vision has a fun Oracle bonus: Fig in the Pride armor, years in the future, causing Gilear-esque bullshit to happen on an apocalyptic scale. Goofy yet still ominous! 

Adaine almost gets all raged up by a shatter star but she saves. Conor gets hit (much to Emily’s dismay) but he doesn’t turn on them. Put a pin in that. 

Kalina yells for her mistress as she goes down but then also gets hit with a shatter star. Before the rage overtakes her she struggles to get out last words to Riz, “Ragh Barkrock.” And then she doesn’t grow, but she becomes very still. 

Fabian is still VERY shrimp party focused and wants to try and use the clock to turn back time or something similar. He climbs up and sees a vision of an old version of himself lamenting the fact that he never got to be a maximum legend. Now he’s even MORE party focused. He tries to get the wizards to fight on the premise that they finally have the chance to beat up some jocks but they refrain because they know the rage mage’s are possessed and not true jocks. Welp, worth a shot! 

Kalina gets the shrimp out of Cass’s throat to bring her back up which is enough time for Cass to give a hazy, “Kalina,” before her familiar says, “I liked you better as the Nightmare King” and slits her throat. Cass drops to zero. 

Riz casts Compelled Duel on Kalina and Adaine uses a portent roll to make Kalina fail her save. He then hides. Some attacks happen, Kalina vanishes–away from Adaine’s 10 feet of vision but still within range of Riz because of the Compelled Duel. 

The mages attack, dropping Kristen. Cass does a TON of saves and only fails one with a Nat 1. But that’s enough to trigger her partial transformation. She comes to, once again getting huge and riddled with red light through her veins. 

Fig brings up Kristen. Cass gets even bigger and redder. She’s furious, but not at them anymore. She looks like she wants to murder Kalina. Kristen, with decent Insight, sees that the Rage is giving her power but it’s making her unstable. This isn’t like healthy embracing of valid emotions, this needs to be stopped. 

She jumps on Cass’s back and says, “There's plenty of time to be angry! We can definitely talk this through, and your anger is not scary to me. I totally understand.” She casts Dispel Magic with her Staff of Doubt. A DC 23 is needed and she rolls with advantage. She missed by ONE. Brennan lets her roll again with advantage. Even worse rolls. She gets two more chances with Advantage. Nope. She rolls AGAIN, with an added d4. STILL NO. By my account that’s NINE rolls, none of them successes. Adaine tries as well and just misses. The dice REALLY don’t want this to happen it seems. 

Cass prepares to cast a 9th Level Circle of Death (14d6 necrotic or half on a save). Fig and Adaine both try to Counterspell it and Fig tells Conor to do it as well. He says he has bigger fish to fry. She doesn’t see how that can be possible, but they’re OK because Adaine succeeds. 

Conor then throws his staff at the clocks and shatters it, sending them through a trippy Labyrinth-esque (think Sarah falling out of the World Falls Down ball) scene that lands them back at Seacaster manor, ten seconds before they left. As they leave, Cass is getting bigger and bigger and she throws some kind of twilight energy spell at Kristen that follows them out. It seems like Conor saved them from something major that was about to go down. 

But now, they’re back at the manor, watching themselves about to walk into the Synod fight. They yell some advice and their doubles disappear. Fig rolls a Nat 20 to understand time loops. She’s been a secret honor student this whole time is what I’m getting from this season.  

Riz questions whether they won or not but this feels like a situation where if you have to ask, the answer is no. 

OK, phew. That was a lot, but we still have a bit more to go. 

Kristen tries to check in with Cass and she gets this ominous message: “She is at my side once more.” The Bad Kids try to parse that but don’t come up with a clear answer. The voice asks Kristen if she wishes for divinity and says they’ll give her the master she deserves. A portal opens and a slimy, rotted, Yes! slides out like a sick joke. Kristen dispels it and when the voice says, “I am coming for you. And when I find you, I will break you in a way that none who loved you will recognize the ruin I have wrought. Lean your soul in closer, that I might give you more than words,” she breaks the connection. 

She also gets some images of the shattered mall, the dead mages floating in Astral Space, and she puts together that the Astral Realm is both where the mall is (*was) and where dead gods go. 

Ragh shows up all buttered (sure) to tell them that the ramp is buttered (sure) and though Riz wants to question him right away (both because of Gorgug’s epiphany and Kalina’s last words), this party is HAPPENING so it’s gonna have to wait. They decide to go with the Fig Disguised As Kristen plan for the shrimp jump because Kristen is, very understandably, having an existential crisis. Riz makes her invisible and Fig goes to do the jump (much to the Hangman’s delight who likes her much better than Kristen). 

Everyone gives Fig buffs but she does need it as she rolls a NAT 20. She uses her leftover spell slots to do some flashy pyrotechnics and leaves the tartar sauce filled pooled “like Daenerys”. The crow is in tearful awe. They cheer, they cry, they declare Fabian a minimum legend. They know for a fact that this is gonna be a killer year. 

Honor Roll

Gorgug for Some Serious Sleuthing 

At least once per season Zac has a genuine Jimmy Neutron Brain Blast about a plot thing and this was it for Junior Year. What a pull. He def beat me to it by a WIDE margin. And it ties in super neatly to things Gorgug would notice and have a sense about since he knows Lydia and knows rage. I don’t care what any of his teachers say; he’s smart in all the ways that count. 

Detention 

Adaine for Poor Timing

Adaine I love you so much but mayhaps, “Your God is dying again, you’re gonna fail junior year” isn’t the most helpful thing to say in the middle of a traumatic life event that is also a life or death battle. 

Random Thoughts

Unironically the biggest W of this combat? Adaine losing her job. That was gonna cause more issues than it solved and she CAN get a better one. Or, you know, road trip with Aelwyn for some light matricide. Either would be better than her leaving school to work an 8 hour graveyard shift. 

I wonder if Brennan meant for that clock to have time traveling properties and the party just clocked it (ha) before it came up or if they said it and then he used it to snatch them out of the fight that it didn’t seem like he wanted them to auto fail because he gave them so many rolls to try and save Cass! I really badly wanna know what he was hoping for out of this fight. 

OK so I’m Pepe Silvia-ing a bit. In the previous episodes, there have been at least two moments where Brennan describes a character getting kinda hot under the collar. One is when Kristen is confronting her parents and the other is when Riz is mad about the Rat Grinders. And in the Kristen instance, she then got advantage on her next roll but Brennan didn’t say why. It struck me as odd both times and now I’m wondering if it’s related to whatever these shatter stars are.

Speaking of, we get a lot of tidbits about them but no real info. Cass saying, “I thought you were dead,” and also there’s a moment that didn’t make the recap where the stars almost go for something but then don’t because it wouldn’t be tactically the smartest and that feels like a level of active sentence, right? Plus the fact that they literally said Cass’s name to get the wizards to attack her. I wonder what a Detect Thoughts would have gleaned. 

Lmao at Brennan making Emily profile the minis. 

“By the laws of this ancient mall.” Bruh, it JUST opened! 

Shocked that when Brennan described the crystals moving like a flock of birds, he resisted the opportunity to use the word “murmuration”. 

Cass doesn’t seem able to get the word “Fair” out. She’s struggling like there’s a geas spell on her or something else compelling her. The obvious thing to jump to is KP’s campaign which emphasized “fairness under the rules” but it’s hard to see how those things are connected yet. Just throwing some stuff up on the conspiracy board for later.

Also, while pseudo-connections are being made, I wonder if Gorgug’s rage storyline is going to intertwine with whatever is happening with these rage stars.  There was mention of like rage that is helpful vs rage that makes you unstable and that reminded me of Porter talking about how Gorgug only really rages to protect his friends. I dunno. We’ll see if it ends up going further than just the parallels. 

My favorite moment of the ep didn’t make the recap but I wanted to highlight it here. When Adaine is targeted by the rage star, she saves but Brennan asks her what the world would look like if she was consumed by rage and she said Falinel would be destroyed as revenge and Sylvaire would be destroyed–not on purpose but as collateral damage in the quest to hunt her mother. I think questions like that for flavor and character insight are so fun! 

The Hangman’s adoration of Fig is so cute. He was lamenting his shrimp costume that he of course had to wear for the shrimp jump (shoutout Torek) but when Fig said she thought it was cute he got all blushy. I love him. 

I have to mention that Riz cast Tasha’s Hideous Laughter by flossing (like the dance). Who taught that goblin how to floss? Is Riz on Fantasy TikTok?

Lmao at Kristen suddenly being like, Shh, don’t mention the arty-Pay in from of ass-Cay in this fight as if she hasn’t been putting her foot in her mouth for the past four eps. Took 5 eps but her tact finally arrived. 

“Your anger isn’t scary to me,” is a genuinely sweet sentiment in this context. 

When the Bad Kids are speculating about what the hell happened after the fight, someone asks Kristen if Cass has a dad or something she can talk to. Idk if she has a dad exactly but closest would be that Sol and Galicaea are her older siblings, right? (I thiiink that’s right. Def about Gal. Taking the wiki's word for it re Sol). I’m more and more suspicious about this turning into a family affair. And it would make sense for them to get involved right? It parallels Kristen’s relationship with her family coming back to the forefront. And Tracker is still in the mix as Gal’s cleric. I dunno, it feels like it’s gonna be important. 

It’s likely that Kalina prob met whatever fate Cass did but we’ve seen that Kalina can operate kinda separated from Cass (like she did in SY) and Brennan said that Cass can’t truly die unless Kristen and Craig do so I guess we’ll see where that goes. 

Are Fig’s Bardics now a game of Russian Roulette? If so, uh-oh! We don’t have a ton to go on for the exact mechanics of what’s going on yet, but it seems certain that a trip to hell is gonna be necessary to start getting this sorted (which she really needs to do anyway being an archdevil with responsibilities and all). 

These have been getting too long for Tumblr to handle lately so I’ll end on these last two bullets. In the AP, Ally said that Kristen really does want to be a cleric to Cass, she’s just suffering for lack of organization. And at least to me, that’s not how it’s come across so far, but taking that into account puts her actions in a different light. It’s still all irresponsible of course but if it’s supposed to be more just genuinely scattered than callous/indifferent then this feels more like a storyline about looking for middle ground than finding yet another new path whole cloth. She was for sure more in serious mode this ep than she has been the last four eps so we’ll see if this side of her sticks around.

I ended the last recap by saying I was worried for Cass and, guess what? Still am! Galicaea, help your sister!  

[verosvault]

🚨SPOILERS FOR FANTASY HIGH JUNIOR YEAR EPISODE 5!!!🚨

Dimension20 "Fantasy High Junior Year"

Episode 5 "Mall Madness"

Timestamp: 1:15:00

Video Length: 4min. & 15sec.

Kalina slits Cassandra's throat! 😭✋ Riz uses "Compelled Duel" on Kalina! 😭✋

Kalina helps Cassandra get the shrimp out that was lodged in her throat.

Kalina has red eyes! 😭✋

Kalina: "I liked you better as the Nightmare King." 😭😭😭😭

Kalina SLITS CASSANDRA'S THROAT!!! 😭😭😭😭

THE WAY I GASPED! BRUH! I WAS SIOBHAN AT THAT MOMENT FR! 😭✋

Adaine: "She's dead. Kristen, your god is dead again. You're gonna fail Junior Year! Gotta get her back!"

I LOVE HOW ADAINE IS STILL THINKING ABOUT SCHOOL! 😭✋ ADAINE SAW A DEITY GET KILLED BY HER OWN FAMILIAR AND HER FIRST THOUGHT WAS FAILING SCHOOL! 😭😭

CRYING! 😭✋

Cassandra to Kalina: "Why would you betray me? I..." (Gurgling)

Cassandra is no longer mad at Kristen but she's looking at Kalina like "I'm going to kill you" 😭

Riz: "Not to defend, I don't know how I feel about Kalina at the moment, but she's been possessed. She's not doing this on her own accord."

It's Riz's turn!

Riz wondering if they should somehow get Ragh???

It would be 2 actions for Adaine to try and go get Ragh 🥲

Saves for Cassandra from the attacks that did hit!

It looks like Kalina dropped Cassandra to 0! 😭

Riz is gonna do something risky!

Riz stops flossing and breaks his concentration on the spell "Tasha's Hideous Laughter"!

Riz looks at Kalina

Riz: "Kalina, we have unfinished business."

Riz casts "Compelled Duel" on Kalina and then uses an action to hide! 😰

Kalina has no legendary resistances 👀

Kalina is gonna down Riz so fast if he doesn't hide! 💀

Kalina has to make a wisdom save for compelled duel! ;0

Kalina needs a 9 to succeed and she rolls a 10 but Adaine uses one of her portent rolls to make it a 3!!! ;D

SO CLUTCH!!! SO CLUTCH FR!!! DJWKFSLAL

Brennan: "So what is this? Is this magic flavored? Or is this just an ability of Riz? Do you feel that this is magic?"

Murph: "I think this is just my connection to Kalina, kind of. I just lock eyes with her." 🥲🥲🥲

Siobhan: "You and me, behind the school!" 😂😂

Kalina: "Stickin' up for me. Just like your old man."

😭😭😭 CRYING ABOUT KALINA AND RIZ FOREVER!!! 😭😭😭

Riz hides

Murph: "I'm so scared of Kalina"

Literally SAME MURPH! 😭✋ ME FR! 😭✋

Brennan: "What's the stealth roll?"

The WAY BRENNAN ASKS THAT SO NONCHALANTLY!!! DISKDKCKSL I'M NOT OK!! DON'T ASK WHAT MURPH'S STEALTH ROLL IS LIKE THAT!! 😭✋

Riz got a 29 stealth!!!

Lou: "One short of godlike."

Brennan: "29's really, really good." 💀

It should be! 😂✋

Compelled Duel means that Kalina can only attack Riz for the duration of the spell and no one else can attack Kalina or else it will get rid of compelled duel 💀💀😭😭 *crying fr*

[lixbf]

is it just bc im playing a drow or was the second joke from that willoughby guy at the elfsong tavern kind of. questionable

[captainofthetidesbreath]

Ahead of the Mighty Nein two-shot, I'm thinking about how Veth, as a level 1 wizard, knows six 1st-level spells (in addition to all the spells she knows as an Arcane Trickster). We don't know any of these spells! Obviously, there's options that are good for her narratively and mechanically, but more importantly: what are some of the funniest possible spells she can have?

She already knows (and probably still knows, since she cast a lot of these in Aeor or later) from her Trickster levels: Disguise Self, Feather Fall, Silent Image, and Hideous Laughter.

I personally think it'd be very funny for her to know Sleep, just in general. Also Fog Cloud so that Sam "#1 Marine Layer Stan" Riegel can have Veth make jokes about Marine Layer—also she and Fjord would match, which is fun. There's something great to me about someone who runs an apothecary knowing Caustic Brew. I think Veth deserves to magically throw acid at people.

[ltash]

Forever

Ep-4 "Prom Night" SimonGhostRileyxFemaleReader

All I want is good music, great friends, bright lights, and late nights.

As the day of the prom arrived, Simon stood in front of a mirror, adjusting the suit he and Tommy had picked out together. The sharp lines and deep navy color of the suit gave him an air of sophistication he wasn't used to seeing in himself. He tugged at the sleeves nervously, trying to quell the mix of excitement and anxiety that bubbled within him.

Tommy entered the room with a wide grin on his face. "You're looking sharp, brother. Andrea's jaw is gonna drop when she sees you."

Simon turned to face his brother, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You really think so?"

"I know so," Tommy said confidently. "You've got this, Simon. Just be yourself."

Simon took a deep breath, feeling a bit more reassured by Tommy's words. "Thanks, Tommy. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Tommy shrugged playfully. "Probably wear something hideous and embarrass yourself."

They both laughed, the light-hearted moment easing some of Simon's nerves.

"Alright, let's go," Tommy said, giving Simon a supportive pat on the back. "Andrea's waiting."

As they headed downstairs, Simon felt a surge of anticipation. He was about to experience something entirely new, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a glimmer of excitement about it. The front door opened, and there stood Andrea, looking stunning in a simple yet elegant dress that highlighted her natural beauty. Her eyes lit up as she saw Simon, and she smiled, a look of genuine admiration in her gaze.

"Wow, Simon," Andrea said, her voice filled with warmth. "You look amazing."

Simon's heart skipped a beat. "You look beautiful, Andrea."

She blushed slightly, then took his hand. "Shall we?"

They walked out together, Tommy following closely behind with a proud smile on his face. The night was just beginning, and for the first time, Simon felt like he was truly stepping into a new chapter of his life-one filled with hope.

As Simon, Andrea, and Tommy arrived at the prom venue, the lively music and vibrant atmosphere immediately enveloped them. The gymnasium had been transformed into a magical wonderland, adorned with colorful decorations and glimmering lights that cast a warm glow over the scene. Students gathered in small groups, laughing and chatting, their excitement palpable.

Simon, feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement, instinctively scanned the room for a quiet corner or a potential escape route. However, before he could make any moves, Andrea took his hand firmly, guiding him deeper into the crowd with a confident smile.

"Come on, Simon," she said, her voice full of enthusiasm. "Let's make the most of tonight."

Simon couldn't help but be swept up in her energy. He allowed himself to be led through the throng of students, trying to focus on Andrea's presence rather than his own apprehension. Tommy walked alongside them, offering encouraging nods and thumbs-ups whenever Simon glanced his way.

They found a spot near the center of the gym, where a group of their classmates were already dancing. Andrea turned to face Simon, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Let's dance!"

Simon hesitated for a moment, but seeing the genuine joy on Andrea's face gave him the courage to join in. As they moved to the rhythm of the music, he felt his nerves slowly melt away. Andrea's laughter was infectious, and he found himself smiling and even laughing along with her.

Tommy, ever the supportive brother, joined the dance floor as well, making goofy moves that had everyone around him laughing. The sight of Tommy's carefree antics helped Simon relax even more.

The night continued with a blur of music, dancing, and laughter. Simon realized that, for the first time in a long while, he was truly enjoying himself. Andrea's presence was a constant source of comfort and encouragement, and he felt grateful for her unwavering support.

During a slower song, Andrea and Simon moved closer, swaying gently to the music. "Thank you," Simon said softly, his voice barely audible over the music. "For everything."

Andrea looked up at him, her expression tender. "You don't have to thank me, Simon. I'm just glad you're here with me."

As the evening progressed and the dances continued, Simon, Andrea, and Tommy found themselves in a momentary lull between songs. They stood near a pillar, taking a break from the relentless rhythm of the prom. Simon glanced around, taking in the sight of their classmates enjoying themselves. Laughter echoed through the air, blending with the sound of the music. Meanwhile, Simon leaned against the wall, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"This is... surprisingly not terrible," Simon admitted, breaking the silence between them.

Andrea laughed, the sound light and musical. "I'm glad you're having a good time."

Tommy, still catching his breath from their energetic dancing, nodded in agreement. "See? I told you it would be fun."

Simon chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. "Yeah, yeah, you were right."

Andrea reached out and took Simon's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Thank you for coming with me, Simon. It means a lot."

Simon looked into her eyes, seeing the sincerity and kindness there. "I'm glad you asked me, Andrea. I wouldn't have come if it wasn't for you."

Tommy, sensing a moment between them, grinned and stepped back a little. "I'll go grab us some drinks," he said, giving Simon a wink before heading towards the refreshment table.

Andrea turned back to Simon, her smile softening. "You know, Simon, I've noticed how much you've been smiling tonight. It's a good look on you."

Simon's cheeks flushed slightly, but he didn't look away. "I guess I have you to thank for that. You've made tonight really special."

Andrea stepped closer, her hand still holding his. "You've made it special for me too. I'm glad we're friends."

Simon felt a surge of gratitude and something deeper, something that made his heart race. "Me too, Andrea. Me too."

As the next song started, a slow, melodic tune, Andrea tilted her head towards the dance floor. "One more dance?"

Simon nodded, feeling a new sense of confidence and joy. "One more dance."

They moved back onto the dance floor, joining their classmates as the music enveloped them once more.

As Simon and Andrea danced to the slow, romantic song, they were surrounded by other couples, all gently swaying to the music. The room was filled with a peaceful atmosphere. Simon's hand rested lightly on Andrea's waist, the touch sending a small shiver down his spine. His gaze remained fixed on her face, taking in her soft smile and the way her eyes seemed to shine in the dim light.

In that moment, he felt the outside world fade away, leaving only the two of them immersed in the rhythm of the music and the warmth of their connection. Every worry, every fear melted away as he focused on the girl in front of him. Andrea's presence was a balm to his soul, a reminder that there was more to life than the struggles he faced at home.

Andrea, too, seemed lost in the moment. Her head rested gently against Simon's shoulder, her eyes closed as she swayed to the music. She felt safe and cherished in his arms, a stark contrast to the turbulence that had marked much of her life. Simon's quiet strength and the kindness in his caramel eyes made her feel more at home than she had in a long time.

As the song drew to a close, Andrea lifted her head and looked into Simon's eyes. "Thank you for tonight," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the last notes of the music.

Simon smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reached his eyes. "Thank you, Andrea. For everything."

They stayed in each other's embrace for a moment longer, savoring the connection they had forged. The crowd around them began to stir, the spell of the slow dance breaking as the next, more upbeat song started. Reluctantly, they stepped back, still holding hands.

"Want to get some fresh air?" Andrea suggested, her smile inviting.

Simon nodded, grateful for the suggestion. "Yeah, that sounds good."

Hand in hand, they made their way to the doors leading outside, stepping into the cool night air. The stars sparkled overhead, and the soft hum of the music from the gymnasium provided a gentle backdrop to their conversation.

They walked a little way from the venue, finding a quiet spot to sit. Andrea turned to Simon, her expression serious but kind. "Simon, I want you to know that I'm here for you. No matter what happens, you have me and Tommy. We're your friends, and we care about you."

Simon's heart swelled with emotion. "Thank you, Andrea. That means more to me than you know."

Andrea reached out and squeezed his hand. "You're stronger than you think, Simon. And you're not alone."

For the first time in a long time, Simon felt a sense of hope and belonging. The weight of his father's abuse, the fear, and the pain were still there, but they were bearable with Andrea and Tommy by his side.

As they sat there, the cool night air providing a welcome break from the warm and lively atmosphere of the prom, Simon felt a sense of comfort and peace wash over him. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time, and it was a testament to the bond he had formed with Andrea.

"You know," Simon began, his voice soft but resolute. "You and Tommy... you've become like family to me."

Andrea squeezed his hand again, her expression tender. "And you're like family to us too, Simon."

Simon looked up at the stars, the sky a vast, comforting expanse above them. "It's been a long time since I've felt this... connected to someone. Thank you for being there for me."

Andrea's eyes shimmered with sincerity. "You deserve to feel connected and cared for, Simon. Everyone does. And you're one of the kindest, most genuine people I've ever met. I'm just glad we found each other."

Simon smiled, feeling a warmth spread through him. "You know, when you first arrived, I never thought we'd end up here. But I'm so grateful we did."

Andrea leaned her head on his shoulder, her presence a comforting weight. "Me too, Simon. Me too."

They sat in companionable silence for a while, the night wrapping around them like a soft blanket. The sound of distant laughter and music drifted over from the prom, a reminder of the celebration they had momentarily left behind. Yet, in this quiet moment, it felt like their own special celebration of friendship and resilience.

Simon glanced at Andrea, a thought occurring to him. "You know, maybe things won't be so bad. With you and Tommy around, I feel like I can face anything."

Andrea lifted her head to look at him, her eyes filled with a quiet determination. "And you can. We're in this together, Simon. No matter what."

He nodded, the resolve in her words bolstering his own strength. "Together."

Hours later, the prom came to an end, and Simon left the venue with Andrea at his side. They were both exhausted but blissfully happy. As they walked silently, their fingers gently tangling together, an easy and comfortable silence settled over them.

"That was a great night," Andrea murmured, a content smile on her lips.

Simon stopped walking, turning to face her. "I'm glad you think so. I have a surprise for you," he said, a hint of excitement in his voice.

Andrea raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Oh? What's that?"

Simon took a deep breath, his eyes shining with pride. "I've been selected for the British Army," he announced, unable to keep the smile off his face.

Andrea's eyes widened in surprise and then filled with joy. "Simon, that's amazing!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. "I'm so proud of you!"

He hugged her back, feeling a mix of relief and happiness at her reaction. "It's something I've wanted for a long time," he said softly. "A chance to make something of myself, to get away from... everything."

Andrea pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes. "You're going to be incredible, Simon. I just know it. You've always had the strength and determination to do great things."

Simon felt a surge of gratitude and affection for her. "I couldn't have done it without you, Andrea. You've been my rock through all of this."

She smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. "We'll always be there for each other, no matter what. And you'll always have a home to come back to."

They resumed their walk, the night air cool and refreshing. The future still held uncertainties, but with Andrea's unwavering support and the prospect of a new beginning, Simon felt more hopeful than ever.

They walked together, hand in hand, the dimly lit streets adding a touch of intimacy to the moment. The occasional passing car filled the silence with the soft hum of their engines, momentarily interrupting the otherwise tranquil atmosphere.

"I leave next month," Simon said, his voice tinged with a hint of trepidation but mostly filled with determination. "They're sending me to basic training, probably in Catterick."

Andrea squeezed his hand, her steps faltering for a moment before she caught up. "That's soon," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "How do you feel about it?"

Simon glanced at her, his expression a mix of excitement and nervousness. "I'm a little scared, to be honest. But I'm also ready. I need this, Andrea. A fresh start."

She nodded, understanding the weight of his words. "You've always been strong, Simon. This will be a new chapter for you, a chance to build something amazing."

He looked down at their intertwined hands, feeling a sense of comfort in her presence. "I just wish I didn't have to leave you and Tommy behind. You've both been such a big part of my life."

Andrea's eyes softened. "We'll always be here for you, Simon. And we'll be cheering you on every step of the way. Plus, it's not like you'll be gone forever. We'll keep in touch."

Simon smiled, the worry in his heart easing a bit. "You're right. And I promise I'll come back whenever I can."

They continued their walk, the silence between them now filled with a sense of shared understanding and hope.

As they reached Andrea's house, she turned to him, her eyes reflecting the dim glow of the porch light. "I'm really proud of you, Simon. You're going to do great things."

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Thank you, Andrea. For everything."

With one last squeeze of her hand, Simon watched as she walked inside, her figure disappearing into the warm light of her home. He turned and headed back to his own house, feeling a newfound sense of purpose and determination. The road ahead was daunting, but with Andrea and Tommy in his corner, he knew he could face it all.

[rogue-bard]

My newest hobby: throwing Astarion under the bus

Lovemaster: Who is your love?

Me, romancing Karlach since I met her: Oh, so you can kidnap them later? Astarion.

Astarion: Wait what?

Lovemaster: When is he happiest?

Me: I don't think he's ever been happy in his whole life.

Astarion: AND WHOSE FAULT IS THAT?!

Lovemaster: What's his most heartfelt wish?

Me: To be free.

Astarion: Oh, I didn't think you know me that well- wait, can you not air out my laundry in front of strangers???

Lovemaster: What's his greatest fear?

Me: To stay a slave.

Astarion: What the fuck??? I mean, yes, but WHAT THE FUCK?!

Clown show.

Astarion: Oh good, puns, because clowns aren't terrifying enough!

Me: Astarion would like to volunteer!

Astarion: Ahahaha yes. What are you doing, this isn't funny!

Clown: Well, come on up, or don't you like me?

Astarion: Ahahaha, yes, of course! I'll fucking kill you. *immediately has Hideous Laughter cast on him*

[thebest-medicine]

Impractical Jokers

[read on ao3]

A/N: Had some Thoughts about Tasha’s Hideous Laughter / Hideous Laughter spell. Mainly. That Nott knows it [C2E28]. I would love to see Caleb experience it. (Caleb x Laughter OTP) And, also featuring a great joke Nott tells Caleb [C2E55]. (This is the first two chapters from ao3 put together.)

Summary: Nott is actually quite hilarious, thank you very much Caleb.

Words: 1285

…

“Hey Caleb?”

“Ja?”

“How many Zemnians does it take to light a lantern?”

Caleb turns from his book and raises an eyebrow at her. His lips turn down slightly in a frown.

“One! Because they’re efficient and humorless!”

“That’s not a very good punch li-” He starts to say, watching as Nott smirks and whispers something he can’t quite hear but recognizes as arcane; she waves the small feather she usually keeps on her for feather fall pointedly at Caleb.

And then he finds he can’t say anything at all as he folds to the ground, cackling with laughter. “W- IHI- NAHAHAHA-” Caleb laughs as he wraps his arms around his middle, and some sliver of his brain notes with hilarity that he’s slipped out of his chair and is now rolling on the floor.

“Oh, I guess it just took you a second to get the joke!” Nott laughs along and winks at him. Not that Caleb picks up on it, as he’s currently too busy cackling his head off. “I’ve never …seen you laugh like this.” She considers the giggling heap of wizard for a moment, looking down at him for a change. “Feels good to finally get a rise out of you!”

Every word she says, every sound he hears, every sensation he feels and conscious thought he has is currently the funniest Caleb has ever experienced (at least, that he can remember right now). He’s jumped past snickers and giggles straight into wild, unending cackles. Giddiness flitters through his chest as he shakes his head, trying to breathe through the laughter.

Nott scampers a bit closer, trying to get a good look at Caleb’s smile. “I didn’t know you thought I was this funny. I’m honored, truly.” She teases. And, well, she can’t help but reach out to Caleb, ruffling his hair a bit as he squirms, arms wrapped around his middle.

A long few seconds later, the buzzing, tingling, silly feeling of unbridled hilarity subsides, pulling back like the tides. Caleb coughs a little as he catches his breath, laying back against the floor. “That was-”

“Adorable?” Nott cuts in.

Caleb makes a sound of protest as the redness on his cheeks seems to grow a bit even though he’s stopped laughing. “You are not so funny.” He rolls his eyes and gives her a wary look, trying to fight the lingering smile off of his face.

“You’re right.” She chuckles. “I am Nott, SO FUNNY!”

Caleb rolls his eyes again and starts to push himself up by his elbows from where he had collapsed in laughter on the floor. “It won’t always work. You caught me off guard, but I can resist your tricks.” As he stands, he finally succeeds in making a face that isn’t a big stupid grin.

Well, Nott thinks, that won’t do.

“Either you’re going to have to start laughing more, or I’m going to have to get more feathers.”

Caleb freezes, eyes wide like a spooked animal. “What?” He manages, it’s almost a gasp. His face approaches the color of his hair.

Hmmm, he’s definitely blushing. Interesting. Nott starts to explain, her voice slow, as she studies his expression. “I need feathers…to cast Tasha’s hideous laughter.”

Caleb’s face seems to cool down a few degrees as he blinks. “Oh, ah-”

“But.” She continues, pulling another feather from somewhere inside her cloak. “I can also think of something else that I could use them for.”

Caleb’s eyes snap to hers. The seeds of a new smile, remnant of his earlier grin, are starting to sow despite his attempts to look stern. “Nott.”

She hums, giving him a smirk and wiggling the feather a little his way.

“Do not.” He takes a step back.

They stare at each other for a long moment before Caleb turns to bolt. As he turns away, Nott catches the growing smile on his face. A beat later, she pounces after him.

“Get back here!” Nott cries, a few steps behind Caleb.

“Nein!” Caleb nearly squeals as he dodges a hand going for his ankle.

Nott recognizes the finger movements ahead of her as the start of somatics. No, she scolds in her head, he won’t be getting away so easily. She’s already got the feather in hand as she shouts the incantation quickly.

Caleb’s next step forward crumbles as he folds in on himself laughing. “NEIHIHIHIN- HAHA AH I- NAHAHA!” So much for being able to resist it next time. The warm sparks of his magic fizzle away as he falls to the floor, wriggling about like a worm.

Nott plops down on her knees next to him, avoiding any flailing limbs. Caleb, it seems - to Nott’s delight, is quite malleable when he’s laughing his head off. When she reaches out to poke at his sides and stomach a few times, he wiggles slightly away. She scoots up near his head, smiling down at his wide grin, and uses another feather to start toying with his ears and neck.

It’s hard to tell if he’s reacting more than a few wiggles away from the pokes and swipes of the feather. The spell does a pretty good job of making the victim laugh as hard as they can, so he’s stayed pretty consistent in volume.

Nott gets one of Caleb’s wrists in her hand and pulls the arm away from his side. It goes quite easily. It’s strange seeing the normally stubborn wizard acting this way, a freshly made dough to be tossed and kneaded any which way without so much as a protest.

Nott can sense the spell ending as Caleb’s laughter peters off into a much lighter, sillier giggle. She moves into the space between his side and his arm, sets the feather next to her, and blocks Caleb from bringing his arm back down in one quick motion. And then, she pokes her fingers into his armpit.

Caleb squeals, his elbow coming down into Nott’s back. His other hand flies up and Nott braces for a shove, but Caleb just slams the free hand over his reddening face.

“Aww. Don’t do that!” Nott complains, reaching up to tickle under the front of his neck with one hand. His chin comes down with a snort, and the hand on his face moves to bat weakly at her arm. “Your smile is the whole point!”

Caleb whines between his laughter at the affection and teasing.

“And see, I don’t even have to use the feather. I can just get you any time. My hands are my greatest weapon!” Nott monologues triumphantly. “Though, maybe I could enlist some help.”

“Nein!” Caleb manages to squeak out as he laughs.

“Exactly. I’m sure rest of the Nein would love to help.” Nott says as she pokes a bit lower, just above where his leather holster lays. Caleb shouts, his body attempting to curl away from her. He’s shaking his head, giggling loudly. She pauses, leaving her fingers just touching the spot. “Well then.” She squeezes once more. “Looks like you’d better start laughing at my jokes.”

“Ja, ja. Haha- fine. Alright - hehe- you little menace.” Caleb giggles. Nott lets him up, for now, moving a bit out of his space. He pulls his arms into his chest, rubbing against the phantom feeling on his rib cage, then he reaches out and pulls the goblin in.

There’s a brief second where she panics, assuming he is eager to get revenge. But, Caleb just hugs her close, still giggling as they lay together on the floor. It’s a place they have been in more times than she can count, but this time, the warm feeling that envelopes them isn’t just coming from body heat.

[lootgoblinmarketplace]

Creating a Named Spell in D&D is Wild

It is funny to think about how spell names such as Tasha's Hideous Laughter exist in game.

Like was Tasha just better at branding her signature spell compared to the average Wizard?

Or did she cast the spell on anyone that refused to credit her in their spell books like a copywrite strike.

I like to think about all the iconic spells that exist in D&D that never had the original caster recognized.

I want to live in a world where Dave's Hot Fireball could be a top selling scroll across the land!