#glib/mr.goodbid

[blitzendoggo]

O' Lily of My Valley

Glib has seen his love grow old too many times, he just wishes there was a way to keep him around.

Goodbid/Glib (3583 words) TW: Lots of Death Talk

~~

Glib is old. Not physically, he stopped aging a millennia ago, but mentally.

He’s seen cities rise and fall, walked the streets of plague-ridden villages, and held the hands of dying soldiers who were shot in a war they never wanted to fight. He’s known the corrupt rulers who are too arrogant to fear death, the coughs of children too young to understand what it truly means to die, and young men who call out for their mother on their death bed, only to meet him. He’s buried everyone in his family, all the people he grew up with, and all of their kids several times over.

He was the first to become a God, and he was just unlucky enough to become the permanently immortal God of Death, doomed to walk Vontral alone.

Except he’s not quite alone.

Sure, there’s Callum, the insane God of Dreams, but there is also a certain half-elf mortal who gets reincarnated every 200 years, and always seems to come back with an infatuation with death.

“Those are bad for you, you know,” Glib says as he pulls his hood off his head, his brown hair falling limply in front of his deep green eyes while he steps out of the darkness from beside the man. The setting sun casts long shadows across the buildings, giving an ethereal, almost spooky look.

“So you’ve said,” the mustached man says nonchalantly. He’s leaned against a brick building in Bowenburg, watching the mostly empty streets while blowing smoke from a cigar that hangs loosely from his lips. His eyes stay transfixed on the unaware people in front of them, unbothered. He knew Glib would come to him.

The god scowls as he grabs the cigar from his mouth and puts it in his own, sliding to stand next to the taller man. The smoke fills his mouth and floods his airless lungs before he lets it slowly seep from his mouth like a dragon. “I mean it, it’ll fucking kill you,” he growls.

“Death doesn’t scare me,” he says cheekily.

“I should,” Glib says snappily. “Most people are fuckin’ terrified of me.”

“Well, I’m not most people, now am I?” he shoots back, mirth twinkling in his coal-black eyes.

For a moment, Glib considers telling him everything, the reincarnations, the old love, the lifelong relationships, all of it, but he stops. “No, no you aren’t,” he settles on instead.

“Besides,” the half-elf begins slowly, grabbing the cigar back from the god, “An early death just means eternity with you sooner.”

“Goodbid,” Glib growls, though all his previous names sit heavy on his tongue. Lawrence is always the first to come to his mind because it was the first, followed by Naethan, Plutos, and Milburn, but this time it’s Goodbid. Johnny B. Goodbid. “You’d be with me for eternity anyway, why are you fuckin’ wasting the time you have among your friends and family.”

“My family won’t talk to me no more, not since I began workin’ in your bidness,” Goodbid brushes off easily. “And Mr. Goodbid works alone, I ain’t got friends other than Death himself.”

Glib growls, but knows there’s no way to convince the half-elf. There never is. “Why are you here anyway? Aren’t your stomping grounds Riftreach and east of it?”

“Yeah, but I heard a rumor of this dope ass horse that walks the town at night.” The taller looks at him with a cheesy grin. “And I want him.”

“Her,” Glib corrects, “And you can’t be serious, you came all the way out here to try to catch a horse?”

“What? I’m a man of style and that white horse is stylin’!” Goodbid jokes. He snuffs the end of his cigar on the brick wall as the sun disappears over the horizon.

“Let me get this straight, your plan is to what? Stake out here until a pretty white pony comes prancing through town and then you are going to try and what? Catch her?” he questions, his irritation at the plan slipping into his words.

He has to admit that it does sound like something that he would do.

Every iteration of him always loved horses, and Milburn, the reincarnation before Goodbid, had a gorgeous brown and white horse that he lost on the coast just east of Bowenburg. The horse was given to him by his father the Friday before his death, so Milburn named her Friday and treated her like royalty, often better than he even treated himself, so losing her was the worst thing imaginable for him. For nearly ten full years, Milburn searched for that horse day and night, begging Glib every night to promise him that Friday hadn’t died yet and that there was still time. The search for her killed the half-elf, but the horse never did die. Well. The horse, unless she gained immortality through magical means, died sometime after Milburn, but Glib pointedly refused to check because an angry part of him would try to take his wrath out on an innocent horse who got spooked in the middle of the night and ran off.

Distantly, Glib wonders if Goodbid’s infatuation with this infamous white horse is the past echoing through him.

“Hey now,” the mustached man begins, bringing the shorter out of his train of thought, “I thought you promised me you ain’t a mind reader!”

“Goodbid,” Glib groans, using a bit of irritation to mask the fear that he would lose this reincarnation to horse hunting as well.

He laughs. “What? I think it’s an excellent plan, thank ya very much.”

The Death God levels a flat look at him before shaking his head and stepping back towards the shadows, drawing his hood up.

“She doesn’t come out until about two,” Glib explains. “You might want to sleep until then.”

Without hesitation Goodbid sits down in the alleyway with his back to the brick wall.

“What- no- I meant-” the Death God sputters.

“I ain’t gonna spend money on a bed if I’ll just have to kill the staff that sees me,” Goodbid, ever the penny pincher and hitman, reasons. “I ain’t exactly supposed to be in Bowenburg.”

“And the better option is to just sleep in the alleyway?” Glib questions, gesturing to the many ways that he could be spotted and captured.

Goodbid just smiles up at him. “But my guardian angel wouldn’t let that happen, would he?” he asks cheekily, already settling against the wall and closing his eyes.

“I’m not your fucking guardian angel!” the shorter retorts, but it doesn’t come out as hostile as he intended it to.

“Then why are you always here for me?” Goodbid questions, sleep edging into his voice.

Glib is silent for several minutes, as he watches the other’s chest rise and fall until it evens out into sleep before he answers. “Because you’ve always been here for me.”

Despite himself, the human mutters a small spell that would redirect anyone’s attention away from the alley, fulfilling his role as guardian angel as he settles against the opposite wall, alternating between watching the half-elf sleep and watching the empty streets of the college town.

A chill settles in the air after a while, causing Glib to drape his cloak over the sleeping man to keep him from shivering in his dreams before he tilts his head back and bathes in the cold air as it blows across his icy skin. He lets his eyes drift up to the sky and traces over the stars that have been named and renamed by every new generation of scholars.

He thinks about old times when he and Lawerence- no, it was Naethan then- used to star gaze. The half-elf would name the stars and constellations easily before asking Glib for their old names, and in every language the old god could think of.

He stares silently at the sky until his mind inevitably wanders into the song that seems to live within his brain.

“Lily, o’ lily of my valley won’t you stay the summer long?” he sings softly, remembering the first time he sang it to Goodbid.

“Fall leaves me tired and winter is cold without the sweet ring of your bells to keep my body warm.”

Although he had been Plutos at the time.

“Your lips are poison and your love leaves me dizzy, o’ lily of my valley, won’t you just kiss me?”

He had been so nervous to show him the words, worried he’d understand what it actually meant.

“Summer grows near, your time comes to an end, and until springtime, I can’t kiss you again.”

But Plutos was none the wiser.

“Lily, o’ lily of my valley can’t you stay this summer long?”

He had asked Glib to sing it to him whenever he was upset, like a lullaby.

“Lily, o’ lily of my valley, I will miss you while you’re gone.”

And he had it sung to him on his deathbed.

“Beautiful song,” Goodbid says groggily as he sits up, causing Glib to jump.

“Jesus!” he hisses.

“Nope, just Goodbid, but I’ll give it to ya, Mr. Death, you were pretty close,” Goodbid teases.

Glib swallows the uneasy feeling of being called “Mr. Death,” but it’s not like this Goodbid knows any better. Glib stopped telling them his name in hopes that one day he would remember on his own.

“What time is it, anyway?” the half-elf asks, stretching like a cat, the Death God’s cloak pooling in his lap as it falls off his shoulders. “Do I got time to catch a few more Z’s?”

Glib looks back to the sky, tracking the moon. “No, your internal clock was fucking spot on,” the Death God mutters. “It’s nearly 2 a.m. exactly.”

“Well, hot-diggity-dog!” he says with a manic grin. “Well, let’s get on movin’!” He stands up, straightening his clothes and mustache as he throws the cloak back over the short man.

“Mustache, do you even have a clue where you’re going?” Glib says as he steps out of the alley behind Goodbid.

“Not even a little,” he says as he weaves through the streets. “But I’m sure I’ll know it when I see it.”

“Goodbid,” Glib growls. “Tell me you actually have a-”

As if cued in by Glib’s annoyance, the sound of hooves clopping on the stone roads draws both their attention.

Before the Death God can stop him, Goodbid is racing towards the noise. The Death God follows close behind him, muttering swears in every language that he knows -which is all of them- as the tall man almost certainly runs headfirst into a guardsman on horseback.

They burst into a plaza, illuminated sparsely by floating magic lights, but standing in the center is a beautiful white horse with a long flowing mane that ends in electric green. She is larger than a normal horse and has an otherworldly calm about her. She stands patiently, white hair covering most of her eyes, before she turns and calmly trots away.

The pair stands gobsmacked for a little too long before Goodbid is back to running after her. A feeling washes over Glib that tells him something is amiss here. This horse has never allowed herself to be seen so clearly by anyone before, only flashes of white hooves and green tails trotting between streets. The fact that she let them see her leaves a funny taste in the old god’s mouth.

“Goodbid!” Glib hisses as he too runs after them. “Something isn’t right!”

“Not now, Death!” Goodbid whisper-shouts back. “We’re hot on her tail!”

Glib makes an annoyed sound but resolves to ignore his discomfort as they weave through the streets. They’re right behind her, step for step, and seemingly gaining on her, until they burst back into the open plaza from before, and the white horse is nowhere in sight.

“Damn it!” Goodbid swears. “I thought we had her!”

Glib scans the streets as he mutters, “This is probably for the best.”

Goodbid sighs dramatically. “Why can’t I have a snazzy horse?” he jokingly pouts, though Glib can spot the genuine disappointment in his face.

“Because I don’t think that was a normal horse,” Glib explains looking back up at the taller. “Trust me, something was up with her.”

“Well, now, I personally think a bounty hunter riding a ghost horse would be even cooler than a bounty hunter riding a pretty white horse-”

“Goodbid-”

Their little “argument” is cut short by the sound of hooves, though this time they are moving much faster and growing louder instead of softer.

The pair look around frantically before spotting the white horse barreling at them with her head low.

“Shit, shit, shit-” Glib screams as the massive horse hooks her head between Goodbid’s legs, throwing him onto her back and biting into the Death God’s cloak, lifting him easily off the ground.

A white and green mist forms around them as the horse continues barreling forward before in a flash of white -and a wave of nausea- they are suddenly somewhere else.

It resembles a weird amalgamation of Riftreach and Bowenburg, with the sleek style of Bowenburg buildings and the layout and height of Riftreach. The streets are impossibly clean and the sky is blindingly white, bathing the entire area in the same otherworldly glow that surrounds the horse.

Glib roars in anger, more at the audacity of the animal bringing them here than the fact that they are actually here. Thick black fog begins to billow from his cloak as his skin turns ghostly transparent, revealing his skeleton. His eyes become unearthly black as a sickly grey and poisonous purple swirl around his hands, but before he can fire off any of the spells he has, the horse drops him flat on his back.

“That will not be necessary,” the horse says, her voice carrying that same ethereal calm that surrounds her.

“You fucking talk?!” he shrieks, rage still boiling in his blood.

The horse gives him a flat look. “Yes, I am Friday, the Goddess of Fate, and I can talk.”

“Friday?” Glib echoes, bewildered. He stares expectantly at the horse for answers, but she offers none. Surely this can’t be the same horse, but the name is too convenient.

Goodbid awkwardly slides off her back and helps Glib stand up before half-hiding behind him. “Ms. Friday, this ain’t some kinda punishment for trying to catch you, is it? Because I didn’t know you were a sentient horse, and I do treat my horses quite well-”

“No, Mr. Goodbid, it is no punishment, I just needed to step in to make sure what needed to happen, happened,” she says to silence his ramblings.

“And how’d you reckon that?” Goodbid asks, a naturally curious man.

“Your vanity and love for horses would surely draw you to Bowenburg if you heard of an impossible-to-catch white horse,” she explains simply.

Goodbid is silent for a long moment before nodding slowly. “Well, now, I guess there’s no use in arguin’ with a goddess of fate now is there?”

Friday laughs, though it sounds more like church bells ringing. “No, no, there is not, I know what is fated to happen so I know what has already happened.”

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds about right,” Glib sighs.

“So, what are we here for then?” Goodbid questions. “You say you brought us here to make sure fate don’t change, but I don’t see much changin’.” He gestures around them before looking more closely for seemingly the first time. “And, uh, where is ‘here’?”

The goddess shakes her head. “Walk with me,” she says simply, as she begins trotting towards a large building at the end of the street.

“Well, you heard her,” Goodbid says after a moment of vaguely confused silence before he begins to march after her, Glib reluctantly following.

“This is a place known as the Order Realm,” Friday explains. “It is much like the Death Realm that your friend there comes from.” Goodbid looks at Glib before turning his attention back to the horse. “The Primordial of Order once lived here, but was killed by their creator, the Nothing. Butinstead of letting their power be destroyed, they and their seven siblings -in their respective realms- created thrones which would distribute power to any mortal who sits in them.”

They have reached a tall white cathedral with green and grey stained glass windows. Friday easily trots up the stairs and into the building, walking towards a strange-looking chair at the far side. It’s made of metal and gears with tubes full of green liquid running up and down the sides.

“The four possible powers of Order are Fate, taken by me; Peace, taken by an older God named Vaktaan; Knowledge, taken by a man named Aldor; and Law,” she stops speaking as she reaches the throne before looking at Goodbid. “Who is meant to be claimed by you.”

“Me?” Goodbid asks, stopping nearly ten feet away from the chair. “Why me?”

Friday gets a pensive look to her face, well, as pensive as a horse can be. She looks at Glib, but only for a moment before carefully saying, “Fate works in mysterious ways, and you are fated to be with another immortal.”

“Ain’t no way an immortal would choose to be with me,” the half-elf counters. “I’m just Mr. Goodbid.”

Glib snickers at that, earning a confused look from the taller. “You have no idea, do you, Bid?”

“Mr. Death, are you telling me that you’ve been holding information back from me?” Goodbid asks, sounding more betrayed than accusatory.

Friday steps in to save Glib needing to explain. “He has only withheld information that you would discover in due time, as you have every time.”

Goodbid stares at her for a long moment. “What do you mean ‘as you have every time’?”

“Sit on the throne and everything will become clear,” she says, gesturing at the chair with her head.

“Why should I trust you?” Goodbid counters, resting his palm on the hilt of his short swords. “You’ve done nothin’ but kidnap me and my friend and talk in damn riddles.”

“Goodbid,” Glib says. “Trust her, sit on the chair.”

“I thought you had a bad feelin’ ‘bout this!” The hitman snaps back.

Glib tries to stay calm as he explains. “I had a bad feeling because you came to catch a magic horse with no plan and we were actively being led into a trap to get us here.” They hold intense eye contact for another few seconds before Glib says, “You’ve said it yourself, you aren’t afraid of death.” Another few seconds of silence before the death god growls, “Sit on the throne.”

Goodbid looks between Glib, Friday, and the chair for another few seconds before hissing, “Fine, what’s the worst that can happen?”

He walks over to the throne with a clearly fake confidence and sits down on it, crossing his arms.

For about three seconds, nothing happens, but then the gears begin turning, and the sound of metal clicking rings through the air. The liquid in the tube swirls and pumps faster before metal arms on either side of the chair clasp down onto him. The room fills with blinding white and green light.

“What the shit?!” Glib yelps, stepping forward, mind racing on ways to get the half-elf free before all the noise comes to a stop, and the metal arms slowly retract.

Sitting in the chair is still the half-elf, though his suit is now white with a green tie and pinstripes. He looks around, mildly confused, flexing his hands as he tries to adjust to the increase of power.

“I’ll leave the two of you alone,” Friday says, as she turns and begins walking towards the doors at the far end. “You’ll have much to speak of.”

“So,” Glib says, drawing his attention to him once the horse is gone. The light of recognition dances in the taller’s eyes, yet it’s different from five minutes ago. “How do you feel?”

“Glib?” he says instead.

The human’s stomach drops, and butterflies erupt, the contrasting feelings nearly knocking him off his feet.

“No,” the death god says, deep in denial as hope blooms in his chest. “No fucking way you remember.”

The half-elf grins at him, though it’s not the typical smile of his persona. It’s a genuine smile that softens his eyes in a way that makes the human’s heart speed up and time slow down. “Glib Murphy,” he says slowly, as if savoring the way the name fits in his mouth. “I remember you- well, I remember everything, but most importantly, I remember you.”

“Lawrence?” Glib says quietly. The hope spreads like fire through his veins and settles like hot coals in his hands. He wants- no- needs to lay his hands on the half-elf, but he can’t bring himself to move, as if he is afraid that if he moves too quickly, or speaks too loudly, this moment will shatter and his Lawrence will return to being “Mr. Goodbid”.

“That’s the name, Mr. Murphy.” He holds open his arms as he adds, “And I hope you’ll wear it out.”

Glib’s legs are moving before his brain comprehends it, and he crashes headlong into the taller’s open arms.

“I swear to fucking god if you die and I lose you for another two-hundred fucking years-” Glib says into Lawerence’s new white suit.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere, Glib,” he soothes. “I’ll stay the summer long.”

[narrlsy]

I just restarted god force and had to draw goodbid obsessing over dramticus

[blitzendoggo]

Goodbid: this is such a bad idea

Glib: then why are you coming along?

Goodbid: one of us needs to be able to talk the cops out of arresting us when this inevitably goes wrong

[blitzendoggo]

Glib: if I die, donate my body to science.

S.G., confused: okay?

Glib: except my middle fingers, send those to Goodbid

Goodbid: hey-!

[blitzendoggo]

Goodbid: As your best friend

Glib: S.G.’s my best friend

Goodbid: 

Goodbid: as your best friend

[blitzendoggo]

S.G.: who’s doing the pep talk today

Goodbid, sighing: Glib’s

Glib: uh

Glib: we’ll probably die, but it’ll be fine! it’ll be fine.

Canyon, wiping a tear: so inspirational...

[blitzendoggo]

Glib: croissants: dropped

S.G.: road: works ahead.

Goodbid: BBQ sauce: on my titties

Canyon: Miss Keisha: fucking dead.

Prophis: Shavacado: fre

Callisto:

Callisto: I didn’t understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you

[blitzendoggo]

Goodbid: hey, Prophis, let’s play a game

Prophis: yeah?

Goodbid: it’s called “Emmy or S.G.”

Prophis: wha-

Goodbid: I’m gonna tell you actual quotes that I’ve heard from Glib, and it's your job to tell me if he said that to his pseudo-child or to S.G.

[blitzendoggo]

Glib: Let’s write Goodbid a friendly note, shall we?

Glib: *writing* Dear... Incompetent... dumbass...

[blitzendoggo]

S.G.: when have I ever done anything rash or irresponsible?

Glib: I made a list.

Goodbid: and I have it memorized. Would ya like to hear it in chronological or alphabetical order?

[blitzendoggo]

Goodbid: Glib, are you okay?

Glib: yeah, just because I everything hurts and I’m dying doesn’t mean I’m not okay. I’m kinda alive and that’s what matters :)

Goodbid:

[blitzendoggo]

S.G.: bet you can’t eat 15 crayons!

Canyon: bet you I can!

Glib: *sips coffee*

Goodbid: *makes sure Prophis is on speed dial while also drinking coffee*

[blitzendoggo]

Goodbid: I’m not single! Uh, Mercury and I are dating!

Glib: Huh?!

S.G.: What?!

Callisto: Really?

Mercury: That’s cool:)

[blitzendoggo]

Caffeine Cat

Canyon is not allowed to have caffeine. This is the story of why.

No Ships (1656 words) AU where Canyon isn’t evil and the party stayed together.

**

The smell of perfectly cooked bacon, eggs, and toast wafts up the stairs, drawing Canyon from his heavy slumber. With his eyes barely open and his nose in the air, he pulls himself out of bed and lumbers down the stairs, mindless as a zombie.

“Good mornin’, Mr. Canyon!” Goodbid says from his spot in front of the stove. Canyon doesn’t respond, choosing instead to walk up to the half-elf, stopping a little too close, staring at the plate of eggs he has. Goodbid laughs, pulling the plate away from the overgrown cat and points at the table. Canyon turns, his mouth-watering and stomach growling, as he spots the plates of food stacked a foot high sitting at the table. 

Still not fully aware of his surroundings, Canyon shoots forward intending to snatch one of the plates but crashes into S.G., falling flat on his tail before he can reach the bacon. The changeling glares -well Canyon thinks they're glaring, the lack of eyes makes it difficult to tell- down at him. 

“Sorry, S.G.,” he says as he gets to his feet. “I didn’t-”

“Do not talk to me until I’ve had my morning tea,” they say, cutting him off. Canyon stares at them, confused, only for S.G. to shove past him and walk into the kitchen. They take a cup off the counter and begins to stir sugar into it.  

Canyon shrugs it off and goes to the table, piling half of his body weight of food onto his plate. 

Goodbid laughs from the kitchen, catching the cat’s ear.

“Jeez, S.G., would ya like some tea with your sugar?” he teases, still smiling brightly as he brings Canyon his half-gallon of milk. 

“Shut up, I will take no criticism from a man who drinks black coffee like a sociopath,” S.G. huffs, striding past him and plopping down next to Canyon. “Save me some!” They snap, taking a piece of toast off of his plate and putting it on theirs. 

“I wouldn’t need to if you weren’t so slow,” he says bluntly before looking at Goodbid and asking, “what’s a black coffee?”

Goodbid laughs goodnaturedly but swiftly turns confused when Canyon’s questioning gaze doesn’t waver.

“Come on Canyon, surely you know what coffee is,” he says, just short of pleading.

“No, is that some sort of drink?” the tabaxi asks around a mouth full of eggs which he swallows with a gulp of milk. 

Goodbid looks to S.G. desperately, but they shrug, offering no help in Goodbid’s time of need. 

“What are we arguing about?” Glib asks with a yawn as he comes down the stairs.

“Canyon doesn’t know what coffee is!” Goodbid says, still desperately trying to rationalize how the cat doesn’t know about the elixir of life that is coffee.

“Tabaxi probably don’t drink it,” Glib says from the kitchen as he pours himself a glass of cold blood before using a heating charm to bring it up to the appropriate temperature. 

“You think just because I don’t know what something is, that means all tabaxi don’t?” Canyon says with a tsk.

“Wow, Glib,” S.G. says slowly. “You just had to be racist.”

“I’m not being racist!” Glib shouts back, padding into the dining room and taking his normal seat.

“Glib it is too early for you to be shouting,” Goodbid says calmly before looking to the two troublemakers, “stop antagonizing him.”

They lower their heads and grumble before Glib continues, “I just assumed that tabaxi can’t have coffee because I can’t have coffee.”

“But you're also a vampire,” S.G. points out, sipping her second cup of sugar tea.

“Even if I wasn’t, that much caffeine with my tiny body could put me in a hospital,” Glib rationalizes, dipping a piece of toast into the blood coffee before biting it. 

“But Canyon is twice your height,” Goodbid points out.

“Yeah, but house cats can’t have coffee grounds,” S.G. counters.

“Whose side are you on, S.G.?” Canyon asks, laughing. 

“No side, only chaos,” they say instantly, stabbing a piece of bacon with a fork. 

“And even if coffee grounds are poisonous to house cats, Canyon’s a bit bigger than a regular ol’ house cat,” Goodbid points out to which Canyon nods. 

“I can also have alcohol,” Canyon reasons.

“Then give him some,” Glib shrugs, “Just have healing word on stand-by in case it poisons him.” 

Canyon perks up at the mention of him trying the mysterious liquid. 

“Yeah sure,” Goodbid shrugs, pushing his mug over to the cat. “Drink your fill Canyon, I’ll get myself another cup.” 

Canyon tentatively takes the cup and sticks his nose near the liquid before pulling away gagging. 

“That smells bad,” he grumbles, pushing the cup away slightly much less interested now.

“Just try it,” Goodbid pushes.

“Goodbid, don’t be a monster, give him some cream or sugar,” S.G. chides, mage handing the milk, cream, and sugar, pouring them into the cup and swirling it with the end of their fork. “There, now it will be edible.”

He sniffs it again, agreeing with the sweeter smell before slowly lifting the mug up and taking a tiny sip. The bitter mixed with the thicker cream and sweet sugar, mellowed with milk gives the liquid a taste that Canyon was not expecting. 

Glib snickers as Goodbid leans forward, “so? You like it?”

Instead of responding, Canyon upends the cup, guzzling down the warm drink in three seconds flat. Goodbid and Glib roar with laughter as S.G. tsks. 

“How could you fall to the dark side,” they grumble. “We could have enjoyed tea together.”

“S.G. you know I like tea,” Goodbid says once he calms down, “I just like coffee better.”

“I like coffee,” Canyon says quickly, beginning to feel jittery and very happy. “I like it a lot.”

Goodbid and S.G. continue their mini-argument about their breakfast drinks, but Glib catches Canyon’s words. 

“Aye, Kitty Soft Paws, you okay?” he says, putting his glass down.

“Yeah, I’m fine, completely fine, why wouldn’t I be?” Canyon says quickly, eyes wide and staring blankly ahead. 

The argument dies down as they shoot Canyon worried glances.

“Uh…” Glib begins, pushing his seat back.

“I’m gonna go. I’m gonna go do something,” he says, standing up abruptly, the chair screeching loudly against the wooden floor. 

“Uh, are his pupils supposed to be that big?” Glib asks to Goodbid.

“Canyon, have ya ever had caffeine before?” Goodbid asks slowly.

“No,” he says probably too quickly. “Is it obvious?” He starts fidgeting in his spot, tail swinging high as his ears twist and turn. 

“Uh,” S.G. says slowly. “Goodbid how much caffeine was in that cup?”

“Not a lot,” the southern man says. “Not until you put a ton of sugar in it!”

“I didn’t put that much!” S.G. snaps, gesturing to the cat who is steadily twitching more and more. 

“Uh, guys,” Glib says quietly. Canyon tenses and crouches low.

“Obviously you did!” Goodbid shouts back. 

Canyon pins his ears. 

“Guys,” Glib says a little more forcibly. 

“You can’t pin this on me!” They yell.

“Guys!” Glib shouts as Canyon takes off, running on all fours, knocking over the furniture, and scratching the wood.

“Ah, shit!” Goodbid yelps, dropping to his knees as Canyon careens over his head before bounding around the table and running up the stairs. 

“I don’t care which one of you did this! Y’all need to fix this shit!” Glib roars before ducking, barely missing the flying cat. 

“How do you want us to fix this?” Goodbid shouts back, catching a picture that flies off the wall.

“Call Callisto damn- AH!” Glib aims for threatening but the effect is lost as Canyon grabs him by the hood and throws him around like a chew toy.

“S.G.!” Goodbid yelps as he fights with the hyperactive cat for the squishy -and screaming- frogman. 

“Working on it!” The changeling snaps back. 

Suddenly a portal opens in the center of their living area and a very confused Prophis steps out followed by an irritated Callisto.

Canyon, who has seemingly not noticed their presence, drops Glib and begins to run in circles around the house. He defies gravity by running up walls and carves a path of destruction as he zooms between rooms.

“Callisto do something!” Glib yells as S.G. is knocked off their feet by the speeding tabaxi.

“What do you want me to do?” Callisto asks boredly, side-stepping Canyon.

“I don’t care just some- shit!” Glib yelps as the cat throws him into the air again. 

Prophis throws out a hand and, using telepathic magic, catches the blue frog and gently sets him on the ground before looking to Callisto. “Surely there is something you can do?” he says quietly.

Callisto tsks before he begins to track the caffeinated cat with his eyes. “I can do this I suppose.” He sticks out a hand and whispers a spell and as suddenly as the cat began to move, he drops to the floor, snoring loudly. “That should do it.”

Slowly, the others approach Canyon, inspecting him for any sudden movements. 

“I didn’t kill him,” Callisto says bluntly. “I simply sedated him.”

“Will he… ya know, wake up?” Goodbid questions already working the mental math that it will require to lung this 7-foot-tall dead-weight cat up the stairs. 

“Contrary to popular belief, I do have a heart,” Callisto hisses.

“You coulda fooled me,” Glib grumbles quietly.

Callisto shoots him a glare as he says, “The cat will wake up in two to three hours.” He turns and re-opens the portal and gestures Prophis through as he turns back to the group. “For the record, if you ever let him have even a drop of coffee again, I will make your fight with the Aragdian Royals look like child’s play.” Before the others can get a word in, he joins Prophis. 

[blitzendoggo]

Can’t Sleep

Goodbid gets home from a contract and finds an insomniac Glib.

Glib/Mr. Goodbid (1614 words)

**

It was late and all Goodbid wants to do is get in bed and sleep for the next three days. The walk is silent, the only sounds being the click of his shoes against the concrete and the distant rumbling of Riftreach's night life. The moon looms high in the sky, bathing everything in a pale light. To Goodbid, this feels like home, like peace. He grew up in the always alive streets of Riftreach, so returning to the city after a long contract always feels nostalgic.

He walks as quietly as he can up the stairs to the apartment complex he lives in with the others. In the back of his mind, the memory of accidentally waking up S.G. plays on repeat. The scolding he got was on par with his ma's which was impressive. Goodbid still wonders how Callisto and Prophis managed to get an entire apartment complex floor remodeled into four homes for the Team to live in. Prophis assured them it was legal, and Callisto assured them that their questions would go unanswered.

He slowly shuts the door behind him as he enters the hallway that connects their apartments. He walks slowly and quietly to his apartment and was about to open the door when he hears Glib shout, "Son of a Bitch!"

His eyes snap to the door next to his. Glib has no reason to be awake right now. It is well past midnight, and the others are clearly asleep.

Goodbid stares at the door for a moment before shaking his head. His hand tightens around the knob as he decides that Glib is probably just getting a midnight snack. His eyes dart back to Glib's door before looking back to his. It's probably nothing. He opens his door barely an inch before he hears quiet swearing coming from Glib's home. Silently scolding himself for being a southern gentleman, he snaps his briefcase to his belt and walks to Glib's door.

He raps quietly on the wood and listens as the swears subsides and quiet footsteps approach the door. It opens slightly and a little frog head peaks around the corner. He looks angry, more so than Glib normally does, but the hostile look almost immediately fades and is replaced by thinly veiled confusion. He opens the door fully and stares at Goodbid for a long moment.

"Bid? Wh't're you doin' here?" He asks, voice rough from unuse.

"I just got home and I heard ya yellin'. I wa' comin' here to check on you," Goodbid says, suddenly feeling like he's overreacted.

Glib blinks slowly at him before cocking his head to the side. "I yelled?"

"Yeah, I'm surprised S.G. didn't misty step over here and slap you," Goodbid jokes. Glib is blank faced for a moment too long before a weak grin crosses his face. He laughs loopily and doesn't say anything like Goodbid expects him to. He just stares tiredly at the businessman, swaying slightly on his feet. Goodbid's eyebrows scrunch; Glib isn't acting right. "Is everything okay?" He leans to the side and looks into Glib's apartment. He scans the area for a threat, or something that is controlling Glib, but he finds nothing. The kitchen light is on and Goodbid can see glass shards glinting in the light that hangs overhead.

"Yeah, I just- uh- well I dropped a cup," Glib says.

Goodbid nods understandingly. "What're ya doin' up anyway?"

Glib suddenly looks shifty. "I just- uh- fuck- I just haven't been sleeping- not sleeping well," Glib stammers out.

Goodbid looks him over and can tell he's lying. "Not sleeping well or not sleeping at all?" Goodbid pressures knowing that Glib is more likely to be honest while he's tired.

Glib looks like a kid that's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I sleep," Glib says quietly. Goodbid cocks an eyebrow. "I slept for like an hour," Glib offers. Goodbid crosses his arms across his chest. "I slept for like an hour three days ago."

Goodbid's jaw almost drops.

"Glib," he scolds under his breath. He pushes himself into Glib's apartment, who barely resists. It's messy, more than normal, but not quiet depression hole yet. He shuts the door behind him and shakes his head at Glib. "I've been gone for three days!"

"I know," Glib says, still looking like a child who's in trouble.

"Why haven't you been sleeping?" Goodbid asks, dropping his scolding tone and replacing it with genuine concern.

"I've been anxious," Glib says dismissively. "I'm not used to living in the city yet, so I just been jittery."

Goodbid nods. "Is there anything I can do to help?" Goodbid asks, not wanting to overstep.

Glib looks a little sheepish, but Goodbid knows that a tired Glib -especially one that hasn't slept in three days- is a weak Glib.

"Come on, Glib, you can ask anything of me," Goodbid says sweetly. Glib mutters something too quietly for the businessman to hear. "What?" Goodbid asks, leaning down a little to hear him better.

"I said, 'could you stay with me' asshole!" Glib snaps, his normal anger flaring up momentarily before disappearing again. It should be unnerving to see Glib flip through emotions like he's trying on hats, but Goodbid can tell its just the frog's way of expressing his exhaustion.

Goodbid straightens back up before nodding. "Of course, Glib," he says quietly as he unclips his briefcase and drops it next to the door. He toes off his shoes, leaving them next to his briefcase, and takes off his suit jacket. He throws his jacket over one of Glib's chairs before turning back to Glib. "Alright, what do you need me to do?"

"Can you just lay with me for a little bit?" Glib asks uncharacteristically shy. "I used to sleep in my parent's room when I would get like this, even when I was a teenager and couldn't really fit in their bed anymore. I sleep better with people around," he explains, nervously picking at his cloak that hangs loosely off his shoulders. "My anxiety hasn't acted up like this since- well- before I was not whatever this abomination is," Glib says hotly, gesturing up and down at himself.

Goodbid tsks at him. "You're no abomination, Glib! You're one of the coolest people I know!" Goodbid says honestly, if not a little cheesy.

Glib looks at him before shaking his head. "Just follow me," he grumbles quietly. Goodbid, deciding to pick his battles, shakes his head and follows behind the little frog man. They make a pit stop in the kitchen doorway so Goodbid can use his mending cantrip to fix the broken cup before they continue into Glib's room. His room is messier than the rest of the house, but Glib doesn't seem to really notice. Goodbid files that away as something to deal with later as Glib leads him to his bed.

When Callisto and Prophis gave them these houses they informed everyone that all the fabric was Glib proof and offered to do the same enchantment to all of their clothing. Goodbid has never been happier that he accepted that offer as he strips down into his undershirt. He briefly contemplates sleeping in his underwear before deciding to go and get his PJ bottoms out of his briefcase. He quietly excuses himself and leaves for the hall. He was gone for no longer than five minutes -long enough to walk into the hall, change, and walk back- but in that brief time, Glib seems to have spiraled.

He is sitting on the bed, rocking back and forth, knees drawn to his chest. His hands keep clenching and unclenching the furs of his bed. His eyes are wide and unfocused, obviously in the middle of an extreme panic attack, but he is aware enough to track Goodbid's movement as he enters the room.

Goodbid approaches him slowly, not wanting to startle him. "Glib?" he asks softly.

"I don't know why I thought you were leaving," he says quickly, his voice tight, obviously trying not to cry. "You said you were getting pants, but I thought you would leave me."

"Glib-"

"Why wouldn't you leave? No one wants to be around me," he breathes out before drawing in a too thin breath. "I'm mean, rude, and unluckily." He lets out a shuttering breath, tears gathering in his eyes, threatening to spill. "I've nearly gotten us killed. Maybe Ggarok should've just killed me instead, maybe that would make everything better."

Goodbid has no clue who Ggarok is, but he has obviously tried to hurt Glib at some point. Goodbid puts that on the list of things to deal with later. He takes Glib's hands in order to draw him back to the present. "Glib," he says soothingly. "I'm not leaving." He slowly sits on the bed. He easily picks Glib up and puts him in his lap before wrapping them in the large furs. Glib has never been one to let his emotions show, other than anger, so seeing him mid-panic attack was very odd to Goodbid. He tucks the frog tighter to his chest and slowly lays them down. Glib cries silently for a few minutes before he curls himself tighter into Goodbid, and it takes even longer for Glib to fall asleep.

Goodbid stays awake until he is sure that Glib is asleep before drifting off himself. Tomorrow, he will ask who Ggarok is -he doesn't have any other contracts lined up for right now, so why not do a job for a friend?- and help Glib straighten up his room, but for right now he just wants Glib to get some good sleep.

[blitzendoggo]

Let's Do the Time Warp Again!

Team Chaos and the eldritch gays find themselves stuck in a time loop! That's it.

**Hopefully by now, you've noticed that S.G. uses all pronouns, but I wrote this before I realized it and I do not have the time to go back through and fix that. I will at some point, but today is not that day. 

Team Chaos is a Queer-Platonic Polycule and Callisto/Prophis (17586 words)

~~~

Glib

"Gang, I don't feel too hot about this one," Goodbid says as they stare up at the imposing gothic architecture of the castle. Well, castle isn't exactly the right word. It's closer to a mansion in design, but it has tall, imposing protective-walls that surround the garden they are stood in with several spires piercing the sky with their sharp peaks. The brick walls are dark and cracked, covered by overgrown vines, and the windows are covered by heavy sun-bleached drapes, adding to the unsettling aura of the place.

Glib had to agree with Goodbid; nothing felt right about this. The castle belonged to an insanely powerful sorceress that suddenly vanished several years ago, and the town's mayor wants them to get through the castle and make sure that the lady is actually gone. Mayor Blackbell had convinced them (by them, Glib means mostly S.G.) to take the job because he said that they could take any of the magical items they found inside as well as 1000 gold if they started looking through the castle tonight.

"Stop being such cowards!" S.G. laughs. "The lady's been dead for years! What are you afraid of?"

"Death. Violent death," Glib deadpans.

"Well, you are already dead, so really there is nothing to be afraid of," Canyon says as he strides forward.

Goodbid and Glib look at each other. They nod at each other in a silent understanding that there is no way this will not go horribly. Canyon and S.G. walk up first, throwing open the doors, showering everyone in a huge cloud of dust, while revealing a grand foyer.

The ceilings are high with tall marble pillars holding it up. The walls are some sort of dark wood, and a chandelier hangs in the center of the room, unlit and covered in cobwebs. The floor is an old dark stone making Glib's bare feet chilly as it offers no insulation against the cold. There is a grand staircase on either side of the room that arches up and connects in the center of the wall. The stairs lead to a set of closed oak doors.

"Great, now I'm dusty," Glib says as he tries, in vain, to get the dust off of his sticky skin. Goodbid gives him a sympathetic look as he brushes the dust off of his top hat. He takes his jacket off and shakes the dust off of it before putting it back on.

"I can try to brush it off of ya," Goodbid offers as they advance towards one of the large grand staircases.

"Nah, I'm pretty sure this shit isn't coming off without me jumping into a river," Glib says sourly as they ascend the dirty stairs. They throw open the doors at the top of the stairs, revealing an unlit hallway. The hallway is done in a similar style as the foyer. Tall ceilings, dark walls, and dark stone floors. The hall is sparsely decorated with only a few paintings and creepy busts along the walls, and a deep red carpet that runs along the center of the floor.

"Hey, Glib," S.G. says already holding out her hand. "Give me Stick."

"What? Why?" Glib says as he hesitantly holds out Stick.

"Because its dark," S.G. says bluntly. She casts a spell on Stick making it glow before giving it back to Glib. "There now Goodbid and I won't walk into walls."

They wander around the building, checking every room they come across and pocketing everything they can.

"Five gold says that this is another empty bedroom," Canyon says as he walks up to the doors.

"No, I'm pretty sure this one's an office," Goodbid says with a distant tone.

Glib glances at him but he seems to be absorbed in his thoughts. Canyon throws open the door revealing an office.

"Wow, Goodbid, nice call!" S.G. says clapping him on the shoulder as she brushes past him into the office. Canyon grumbles something about cheating businessmen and puts the five gold into Goodbid's unresponsive hand.

"Y'all, I'm pretty sure I've been here before," Goodbid says as he glances around the office. "She wanted a hit on someone."

"You remember who?" Glib asks sticking close to him.

"No, I've probably done more than five hundred since I've been here. I can't remember them all," Goodbid says as he walks over to the desk. They find an enchanted quill and several research papers on things that seem less than ethical. Goodbid takes the papers while S.G. puts the quill in her bag of holding.

Glib takes one of the papers off the desk before Goodbid can get to it. He scans it over, his eyes widening as a realization slowly dawns on him.

"Hey, I think she was a warlock," Glib says as he holds up the piece of paper.

"Why ya say that?" Goodbid asks.

"Because this-" he holds up the piece of paper for the businessman to read, "looks like a written form of the contract I have with my God."

Goodbid takes the contract and skims it over. "Any clue who their patron is?" Goodbid asks.

"No more than you do," Glib says with a sigh. A word in an ancient language keeps coming up in the paper, presumably the patron's name, but Glib can't identify who it belongs to.

"Damn," Goodbid says as he sticks the paper in his briefcase. "Maybe you could ask your God."

"I will once we are out of here," Glib says dismissively. He doesn't want to risk angering the patron of this place. His patron has few friends and a number of enemies.

Once the room is devoid of anything even remotely valuable, they leave and set back down the hall.

A flash of white catches Glib's eye and he comes to a dead stop.

"Anyone else see that?" Glib says as he clutches stick closer to himself.

"See what?" Goodbid asks, already stepping closer to Glib and looking around for a threat.

"I saw something white move around down there." Glib points into the darkness where he saw the flash of white.

"It's probably nothing," S.G., gaslighter extraordinaire, says with confidence.

"Uh, Glib, I can't see past the light ring. Is something there?" Goodbid says, pointedly ignoring S.G. much to her chagrin, as he squints at the darkness.

"Oh, right, uh." Glib walks forward and can see the clear outline of a door at the hallway's end. "There's a door?" He looks a little closer at it. "But it's barred off."

"Well, are ya sure ya saw somethin'?" Goodbid asks, his accent coming in more heavily the more anxious he becomes.

"No, not really," Glib admits.

"Well obviously we should go through that door," Canyon says smugly. "That's obviously where the ghost wants us to go."

"Mm, yes, I agree. Besides we were told to check all of the rooms. Ghost or no, we would've gone in there," S.G. says, rolling her shoulders and straightening her hood. She's clearly putting on a confident front to disguise her discomfort.

Goodbid stiffens at the mention of a ghost. He's been very skittish about spirits ever since they were attacked at the bottom of Rift Reach.

"I doubt it was a ghost," Glib says in an attempt to calm Goodbid. "I just saw the door glint in the light."

Goodbid nods stiffly, side stepping closer to the Glow Stick and, by proxy, Glib. The frog just nods slightly and silently passes Goodbid Glow Stick so he can at least see where they are going. Goodbid mouths a silent thank you as he takes the light and holds it in one hand and his brief case in the other.

When they get to the door, Canyon tries to remove the bar. He struggles with it for a moment before huffing and taking a step back.

"Welp, that's a sign, y'all, I say we-"

"Hold on, I can help you," S.G. says stepping up to the door.

"Damn witch," Goodbid swears, clutching his briefcase to his chest.

Together, they dislodge the bar and throw the door open.

"Y'all I've a real bad feelin' 'bout this," Goodbid says.

"I mean, you can always stay out here," S.G. says with mock sympathy. "Alone. In the dark."

Goodbid looks visibly distressed, but he slowly nods. He hooks his briefcase to his belt and grabs the back of Glib's hood. Glib flashes him a look, but he can see how upset Goodbid is, so he lets it go. If Goodbid holding onto Glib's hood keeps him from freaking out, he can keep holding on.

They'd barely stepped through the door's threshold when it swings shut, locking behind them, and the enchantment on Stick suddenly stops working.

Goodbid shrieks and turns on his heels. He grabs the door handle and tries desperately to open it, chanting "come on ya damn door!" before devolving into an impressive combination of prayers and swears.

"Bid! Bid!" Glib says, trying to get his attention but very quickly coming to the realization that Goodbid's in hysterics. He grabs Goodbid's arm and pulls himself onto his back. He latches onto him like a living backpack and starts talking. "Goodbid, you've got to listen to me. It's alright, you are going to have to calm down. We can find another way out, this is a really old castle, there are other entrances."

Goodbid doesn't seem to understand what Glib is saying, but he slowly starts to calm down.

"I told y'all!" He yells, turning to face the group. S.G. is looking in the other direction, but Canyon is looking at them with a strange expression, much harder for Glib to understand in the dark. "Somethin' bad was gonna happen! Now look where we are!"

"Goodbid! Stop overreacting! Everything is fine!" S.G. says while looking at Canyon. Glib realizes that while he can see about as well as he can see normally and Canyon can probably see like it's a moonless night, S.G. and Goodbid are completely blind.

"Fine? Fine?!" Goodbid shouts. Glib swears he can feel Goodbid getting hotter through his shirt. "Is this what you call fine, you crazy witch?! We are in a pitch-black room in a random haunted godforsaken castle!" He howls in a fury. He waves his hands wildly in the air even though he can't see them and S.G. is non the wiser. Glib holds on for dear life as the man jostles him around. "We are not fine!"

"Yes, well, shut up and stop whining!" S.G. counters. "I'm working on it!" She turns and is yelling at the wall.

At this point, Canyon and Glib are barely holding their laughter.

"Hey, S.G. I don't know what that wall did to you, but Goodbid's over here," Glib says trying desperately to not laugh, only to start rolling with laughter as she does a full 180 and starts yelling at Canyon again.

"Well unlike some people, I can't see in the dark!" S.G. snaps.

"Well, sucks to suck," Canyon says bluntly before holding his hand out. "Glib throw me Stick."

"Stick go to Canyon." It pulls out of Goodbid's hand and goes to the giant cat-man.

"Cool. S.G." He turns back to S.G. "Relight this." He grabs S.G.'s hand and puts Stick in it.

S.G. grumbles something about Canyon being stupid before trying to 'relight' Stick. She tries a few times before throwing the stick at Canyon. It smacks him square in the face.

"It's not working!" She snaps. "There must be something with this room."

"Alright, well, we have two people who can see jack shit and two who can see well enough in the dark. I guess we'll just have to continue wandering around until we find a way out," Glib says. He shifts to get off of Goodbid's back, but the mustached man grabs his hand.

"If you sit on my shoulder's you'll be able to direct me around better," Goodbid says with the underlying message, "please don't leave me in the dark."

"Okay," Glib says. He crawls further up Goodbid's back until he's perched on his shoulder. "Stick!" He yells and catches it before it can hit Goodbid, who flinches. In front of them, S.G. latches onto Canyon's arm in the image of modern chivalry, or at least it would be if S.G. wasn't complaining about not needing to be guided around.

"Can you see?" Canyon says leaning over her.

"No," S.G. says hotly.

"Then shut up and hold on."

With that they start down the hall, checking every door they come across, all of them being locked.

"We should start pick locking," Canyon suggests, already getting his picks out.

"We will later, Canyon, but first we need to get them outside," Glib says tiredly. "They are kinda sitting ducks."

Canyon thinks about it for a moment before nodding and pocketing the picks again.

After about ten minutes of trying all the doors -and S.G. and Goodbid getting increasingly more uncomfortable- one at the hall's end opens. Past the door is a stone spiral staircase.

"Oh great," Glib grumbles. "Canyon, you and S.G. go first."

"Go first?" Goodbid asks, stiffening under Glib.

"Oh, right, you can't see what just happened," Glib says apologetically and Goodbid shakes his head. "A door actually opened and there's a spiral staircase on the other side."

Goodbid just makes a noise that sounds like a whine and a groan at once. "Why did I ever agree to stay with y'all after my contract was up?"

"Because we are the best for 'biddness'," Glib says as he watches S.G., and Canyon slowly climb the stairs. Once they were out of eye line, Glib nudges Goodbid forward. Slowly they start up the stairs. It's precarious and Glib feels like he's about to die of a stress induced heart attack, but they are managing.

About halfway up, S.G. yells, "wait! I can see light!"

"You can?!" Goodbid yells back up, sounding relieved.

"Yeah, there's torch light!" Canyon calls.

Goodbid starts climbing the stairs a little quicker, and sure enough, there is the slow orange flicker of torch light. It illuminates Canyon and S.G. at the top of the stairs, who are waiting patiently for Goodbid to arrive.

"What's the hold up?" Goodbid asks when Canyon looks antsy.

"Why are there torches here? This place has been abandoned for years," Canyon says. His ears are pinned slightly, and he keeps looking through the doorway.

"Magic torches," Glib says dismissively. "We've seen them before."

"Yeah, but I just think that its weird that they are only in that room." He points through the door where Glib can barely see anything but can clearly make out a long bridge reaching across a dark room.

"I don't know, but right now this is the only way forward," Glib says pointedly.

Canyon makes a clicking noise and shakes his head. He turns around and gestures S.G. through. "Ladies first."

"Gee, thanks," S.G. says sarcastically. She looks around the room before cautiously stepping through. Canyon goes next, and Goodbid brings up the rear.

"What was that?!" Goodbid yelps, jumping to look at the door.

"What? What?" Glib yells, holding onto Goodbid before he can throw him off.

"You didn't see that?!"

"No!"

Goodbid pants for a second before slowly turning back. "Must've been the wind."

Glib stares at him, but Goodbid says nothing else, gesturing for the others to continue walking. They slowly cross the bridge with S.G. in the lead.

"Woah! Look at that!" Canyon says in amazement as he leans over the ledge.

"What?" Glib asks. He turns and looks over into the dark room and is awestruck by what he sees.

Gears take up the far walls and large portions of the floor, leaving only small pathways to and from the clock with bells and chimes covering the roof. The wall across from the bridge is the only one not covered in (or seemingly made of) gears. Instead, it seems to be made of dark, thick glass which, despite being in the center of a wall, is facing the sky. In the center of the glass wall sits a large clockface, the only indication of what this massive machine is.

The clock face is the most impressive of them all. The detail is hard to pick out in the shadowed room, but he can see the raised details dancing in the fire's light. The grass of the flower field sways like the breeze is blowing and the stars shine in the low light. A tree sits off to the edge of the painting with an elf boy laying under it. He has a thin straw hat over his face and his hands crossed over his chest. His long golden-white hair tumbles past his shoulders and splays into the tall grass like white vines.

"That's impressive. Can you guys see that?"

"See what- oh my god," Goodbid says, coming to a dead stop. He walks over to the sturdy wood railing, and, knowing better than to put his weight on something like this, he places his palms on it to get a better look.

S.G. whistles as she joins the boys at admiring the hauntingly beautiful clock.

"Think we can fit that in your bag?" Canyon jokes.

"I'm willing to try it," S.G. counters, a mischievous look on her face.

Before anyone can say anything else, a white streak lunges from the wall behind them. With a terrifying shriek, it picks up Goodbid and Glib and hurls them at the clock's face. They slam into it with a sick crunch before falling to the ground. They miraculously land on one of the gearless patches.

Glib slowly gets off the ground. Everything is spinning and he can faintly taste blood, but he knows he needs to get up. He looks up and can see the fuzzy image of Canyon and S.G. fighting the white ghoul. White things keep whipping around its face, and it keeps making these loud sobbing noises.

"Banshee," Glib says through the link. "That's a banshee." He shakily raises his hand and fires off as many eldritch blasts as he can before he collapses back in exhaustion, half landing on Goodbid, who has not gotten up. Glib feels for his pulse. It's faint, but it's there. Suddenly, the bells and chimes start ringing loudly, shaking the entire castle.

The last thing Glib hears before everything fades to black is S.G. and Canyon through the mental link screaming their names, telling them to get up and get out.

*

Glib shoots straight up. He's in his room, sleeping in his fur-lined bed (thank you magical loopholes) and he's completely unhurt.

"Just a nightmare," Glib mutters, running a hand down his face. "Just a stupid, stupid nightmare." Before he can go back to sleep, his door swings open with enough force that he's worried its going to come off its hinges.

"It was not just a nightmare!" S.G. yells, marching into Glib's room, Canyon and a traumatized-looking Goodbid in tow. "We remember it too!"

"And today's the same day!" Canyon says as if that makes any sense.

"What?" Glib asks, still half asleep.

"What day did we go to the castle?" Canyon asks.

"Uh, it was the twenty sixth?" Glib says, trying very hard to remember everything from the not-dream.

"Yeah! And today is also the twenty sixth!"

"What are you talking about?" Glib asks, not particularly wanting to deal with Canyon's nonsense.

"We're repeating the day," Goodbid says in a distant tone. Glib looks at him and Goodbid is just staring at the wall above Glib's head with a thousand-yard stare.

"Is he okay?" Glib asks, slightly worried that Goodbid, while he is still smiling, is smiling in a very manic way.

"No, he thinks he took a contract there, and you know how he gets when we have to deal with the undead," S.G. says, only a little sympathetic, as if she isn't also terrified of most ghosts and Glib was not an actual vampire.

"I would just need to find that contract. I keep my contracts, it'll be easy," Goodbid says, mostly to himself. The room falls into silence while everyone thinks over what just happened.

"Oh shit," Glib says. "Mystery man is going to kill us if we don't figure this out."

***

Prophis

"I don't know what you did, but you are going to undo it," Callisto says, throwing open the door to the home of the adventuring party he unintentionally created. Prophis wants to chide his boyfriend for being so rude to their friends, but he is certain that doing that will result in an argument so instead he sighs deeply. Besides, Callisto has a reason to be upset. This is the third time they have woken up to this day.

"Why do you think they did it?" Prophis counters as he enters the house behind him.

"Because look at them!" Callisto snaps, his chest puffing up. Prophis cocks an unamused eyebrow at him, and Callisto deflates, unable to withstand his boyfriend's silent scolding.

"No, Mystery Man's right," Canyon says from his seat on the couch. His feet are thrown over the couch's arm and he is laying across half of the couch with his arms crossed over his stomach. His head is directly next to Goodbid's leg, who does not look to care. The afore mentioned businessman's entire torso is inside his briefcase. Prophis can faintly hear him muttering, but he's either too far away or Goodbid is just whispering gibberish because Prophis cannot make out what is being said.

"Canyon!" Glib snaps. "Why would you tell them?!"

"Because they obviously knew and now, they can help us undo it," Canyon says nonchalantly.

"He's got a point, Glib," S.G. says. She is at the dinner table looking over old records that Prophis is pretty sure they stole from somewhere. Glib is sat across from her and is reading an ancient tome that looks to be heavier than he is.

"Fine, whatever, just help us," Glib grumbles. He gestures to the stacks of scrolls, books, and papers all around the house.

"We'll help once you tell us what happened," Prophis says walking over to Glib. "And is he okay?" He points to Goodbid.

"Oh yeah, he's just looking for a specific paper. He says he's worked with the lady that caused this. He keeps all of his contracts so if he can find it, it will slim down the amount of reading we have to do," Glib says, not even looking away from the massive book.

Callisto walks to Goodbid and touches his back. Goodbid doesn't even flinch as he continues his frantic search.

"And you're sure he's okay?" Prophis says, his brow pinched in concern.

"Like 80 percent sure- anyway!" S.G. says. "Do one of you want to explain this to them because I would like to stay on good terms with them," S.G. says bluntly and Prophis is slightly more worried now.

"Yeah, I'll do it since I don't have to read," Canyon volunteers.

"Yes, why aren't you helping?" Callisto asks crossing his arms.

"I am helping," Canyon says. "I'm keeping Goodbid from losing it." As if cued in by Canyon's words Goodbid suddenly starts freaking out.

"Where is it?! Where is it?! I ain't ever lost a contract!" He says in an accent so thick that Prophis barely understands him.

"Hey, hey, Goodbid, relax," Canyon says calmly. He pulls Goodbid out of the briefcase and pushes himself into his lap. He gently headbutts Goodbid's face in the same way a house cat would. Goodbid seems to recognize what Canyon wants him to do and starts to pet him until he looks slightly more rational. Canyon eases himself off of Goodbid and returns to his laying position next to his thigh while Goodbid returns to his briefcase, not nearly as deep or panicked. "See, helping," Canyon says smugly.

"I see," Callisto says, casting Prophis a confused look. Prophis shakes his head, knowing that Callisto is asking him if the cat man and Goodbid are dating. The team hasn't told Prophis if they are, so he just has to assume they aren't, but he can see where Callisto is coming from. Prophis is certain that the four of them are in a queer-platonic polycule, it's certainly obvious in the way they behave, but whether or not they know that they are in a queer-platonic polycule is a different question entirely.

Prophis clears his throat. "You were going to explain what happened," he prods, stepping over to the couch.

"Oh, yeah," Canyon says. He shifts into a more comfortable position before he continues. "So, we were exploring this castle that belonged to a really powerful magic lady-"

"She was a warlock!" Glib corrects.

"Yeah, that. She worked with some sort of powerful god, it might also have been a trickster of some sort, we don't know. Point being she made some strong stuff. And one of these things happened to be a really big clock, for some reason. Now, we didn't exactly break the clock -we weren't even going to touch it at first- but then this thing came out of nowhere and threw Glib and Goodbid into the clock. It chimed a couple of times and then stopped ticking. This day has just been repeating and it seems like the only ones who are 'awake' are us and- well- you guys I guess."

Prophis nods slowly, processing all the information that was just thrown at him.

"So, let me get this straight," Callisto says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You went into an old castle that belonged to an extremely powerful warlock, Glib and Goodbid were thrown by something-"

"It was a banshee," Glib says tiredly. "It was a fucking banshee."

"And that thing was a son of a bitch to get rid of!" S.G. adds spitefully.

"Okay, a banshee threw Glib and Goodbid into a giant clock and now we are stuck in a time loop?" Callisto finishes.

"Pretty much, yeah," Canyon says, the perfect picture of an uncaring cat.

"I found it!" Goodbid yells holding up a fairly yellow and fragile piece of paper up. "Sweet mercy, I found it!"

"You found it?!" Glib says. He launches out of his seat and slides to a stop next to Goodbid.

"Yes! It was one of my first contracts, it's a miracle that I had this," Goodbid says giddily. S.G. misty steps over to the boys and gets on the other side of Glib. "Her name was Zinrie Olvito and she was an elf woman with an extremely powerful time patron. She contacted me to take out her brother."

"Why?" S.G. asks.

"Dunno, I never ask why, I just do what I'm told," Goodbid says as he puts the scroll down. "That bein' said she made sure that I knew to kill him cleanly and with as little pain as I could."

"So, she was a time warlock," Prophis begins slowly, making sure he's properly understanding, "and you broke the giant clock?"

Goodbid startles, jumping a foot in the air before staring wide-eyed at the newcomers. "When the hell did y'all get here?" he asks causing the others to laugh.

"We've been here for the last five minutes," Prophis says lightly.

Goodbid nods slowly, seemingly taking in his surroundings for the first time in a while.

"Hey," Glib says suddenly. "Do you think that the crazy time-lady was the banshee?" The others stare at him, obviously waiting for him to continue. "Banshees can only be made from heart-broken or grieving elf women."

"I suppose so," Callisto says rubbing his chin. Prophis nods his head along. It would make sense that she was twisted by one of her experiments or spells and became a banshee as a result. Or maybe it was the grief of having ordered Goodbid to kill her brother.

"Wait, hold on," Prophis says looking between Goodbid and Glib. "How exactly were the two of you thrown?"

"We paired up the two of us that could see in the dark and the two of us that couldn't," Goodbid explains. "S.G. hung onto Canyon, and Glib was on my shoulders. The banshee came out of nowhere and picked me up and hurled us at the big clock that was on the wall."

"Do you think that the banshee was just trying to attack Goodbid because he killed her brother?" Prophis ponders.

"She hired me to do it!" Goodbid snaps defensively.

"I'm not blaming you for doing your job, Goodbid," Prophis says in a motherly tone, shutting him up. "I'm just suggesting that maybe that's why she attacked the two of you and not the others."

"She might have tried to resurrect him," Callisto says, running a hand through his hair. "If she had a powerful time patron, maybe the final test was resurrecting a loved one."

"And she failed, causing her to die of grief from the brother that she had killed and couldn't save, turning her into a banshee," Prophis finishes.

"Okay, but she's the one that failed, why attack Mustache?" Canyon asks, pointing out the obvious.

"Because technically I killed him, she just couldn't save him," Goodbid says tiredly, taking off his hat and scratching his head. "It happens sometimes with contracts. They get mad at me for killing their family or spouses or whatever even though that's what I was hired to do."

"People get buyers regret in your line of work?" Canyon says with a laugh.

"You'd be surprised," Goodbid says sourly. "Some people just can't stomach murder."

The others laugh before S.G. clears her throat.

"Yes, well, that's good and all, now that we know the Banshee is the crazy time warlock or whatever, and she feels bad for having her brother killed or what not, but we are still in a time loop!" S.G. says, drawing attention back to the main focus.

"S.G.'s got a point, got any ideas?" Glib asks, pulling his cloak sleeves up and rolling them slightly.

Prophis thinks for a moment. This is definitely out of his department of expertise. He can control -or mutate depending on how you choose to look at it- most things, but time is not one of them. He has opened portals into different realms, but messing with time? Even he's not stupid enough to do that. Its one of the several reasons he doesn't understand Doc. Doc can talk for days about how they have manipulated the timeline and have effectively created a really big time-loop, but just thinking about that makes Prophis' blood run cold. This is definitely not his forte.

"No, I don't have a clue how to fix this. I work chaos, but I don't touch time. Callisto?" He turns to look at his boyfriend who is stroking his chin, deep in thought.

"I have to agree with Prophis that time is one of the few things I try not to mess with," Callisto says after a long moment. "I might be able to find a solution if we go to the castle."

The others nod. Canyon and Goodbid get to their feet, popping and stretching as they do.

"What day is looping?" Prophis asks suddenly. "Is it the day you hit the clock or the day after?"

They look at each other for a moment before Glib turns back to them. "The day of?" he says like it's a question. "Why does that matter?"

Callisto looks at Prophis and shares a long-suffering look. "Because if it's the day of, you haven't killed the banshee," Callisto says in a way that shows just how old he really is.

"Damn," Goodbid says, and the others just nod their agreement.

"I should have just killed you all in that cabin," Callisto groans into his palms.

*

They keep close as they enter the castle. Prophis is casting an orb of chaos light as they walk around. Goodbid, seemingly traumatized, walks as physically close to Prophis as he will let him- well as close as Callisto lets him before glaring daggers at him. Every creak of a board, or rat scurrying across the stones has Goodbid jumping out of his skin. He's holding his briefcase to his chest like a safety blanket and is clutching it so tight that his knuckles are bone white.

The other members of Team Chaos keep rotating "Goodbid Duty" where they walk close to him and calm him down. Prophis thinks the way they handle him is unique and oddly endearing.

Canyon will half drape himself across Goodbid and demands pets. He does not get up until Goodbid laments and pets Canyon's head; at which point, Canyon begins to purr like a house cat until Goodbid doesn't look like he's about to pass out from fear.

S.G. will minor illusion small comforting things for Goodbid to hold or fidget with. His favorite seems to be the weighted quill that he can just swing between his fingers, or when she creates the smell of home just after Goodbid's made breakfast.

Glib does the most normal thing, but probably what helps Goodbid the most. He gets him talking. He asks about old contracts or friends. He got Goodbid going on a rant about an old tailor shop that made him a suit that was wrong in just about every aspect ("They got all of my proportions wrong and used the cheapest fabric I have ever seen!") and he didn't notice that they had walked across the bridge where they were previously attacked. He didn't notice where he was until they were stood in front of the clock.

"Honestly! The audacity! And I had paid them good money for that! It was not good biddness!" Goodbid complains.

"Hey, monopoly man," Glib says with a grin. "Look around." Goodbid pauses and stares dumbly at the little frog man before slowly looking around.

"Oh, when 'id we get here?" Goodbid says scratching his head.

"About a minute ago," Glib says patting his arm.

Prophis chuckles to himself as he watches this interaction unfold. It's such a far cry from how they originally interacted. If Prophis would have told all of them a year ago that they would be helping keep Goodbid out of a panic attack, he is very certain that none of them would believe him. Callisto "I wouldn't know a heartfelt moment if it slapped me across the face" Mystery-Man shoves past them and struts up to the clock. He levitates off the ground and begins to inspect the massive machine.

"And it was ticking like this when you originally came here?" Callisto says as he hovers in front of the clock's face.

Prophis can't help but admire the intricate craftmanship of the clock. Everything is so impressively detailed. The clock is painted with a flower field at night, and it almost looks alive. Like the flora would sway in the wind and the stars twinkle idly. There's a tree close to the edge of the painting and in the tree's branches is a bird's nest with sleeping birds. Under the tree a young elf boy sits sleeping, with his hat thrown over his face and his arms crossed lazily over his stomach. His hair is messily braided and thrown over his shoulder. In one hand he holds some sort of half-eaten fruit. Prophis feels like he could lose himself staring at it for too long.

"Yeah, it's what drew my attention to it in the first place," Canyon says. He is watching Callisto the same way a housecat watches a bird and Prophis is a little worried that he's going to try and pounce on him.

Before anyone can respond, a mournful sob rings through the room. Everyone except for Glib flinches or yells as pain rips through their head. Goodbid screams the loudest and the color drains from his face. He rocks on his feet for a moment before fully passing out.

"Shit!" Glib yelps and jumps forward to catch him. A white figure comes charging at them from the wall. "Not again!" Glib cries and tries to jump out of the way with Goodbid, but he's not a strong frog. He gets about five feet away, but the Banshee is undeterred.

Prophis, thinking on his feet charges a chaos bolt and throws it. It just barely connects with her. The hair surrounding her face whips wildly, tangling in the air and pulling away from her face.

Callisto, having a similar idea hits her with a bolt of magic. She wails and the hair flies away from her face revealing a rotting elf woman. The face turns to dust and flies off in the wind while the white cloth and hair fade away.

"Well, then," Callisto says, dusting off his hands, "that fixes that."

"Hey guys?!" Glib yells. Goodbid is laying on the ground and Glib is kneeling next to him. "I don't think he's breathing!"

"Oh, that's not good!" Prophis yelps running toward the pair. He drops to his knees and shoves Glib out of the way. He puts his hands on Goodbid's chest, and with a silent prayer that this doesn't go horrendously, he mutters a very powerful healing incantation. Goodbid's eyes fly open, and he shoots up, chaos magic crackling around his pupil.

"Damn demon!" He screams as he tries to fight Prophis and Glib off him. His head whips around frantically looking for, presumably, the banshee.

"Woah, woah, Bid, relax," Glib says, putting his hands on Goodbid's shoulders. "It's okay. We came here with the cavalry, remember? They killed her in two hits." Goodbid visibly relaxes as he nods.

"Love," Prophis says turning to Callisto. "How do we fix this?"

"Honestly? I don't have a clue-" a groan rises from the group. "-yet. I don't have a clue yet! Give me a few days to study the clock and then maybe I'll have an answer."

"Yeah, except we don't have a few days," Prophis reminds him. "The day will loop, and we will wake up in bed again."

Callisto sighs deeply as he floats back to the bridge. "I'm aware. I suppose that every morning I will simply have to come back here." Prophis nods, understanding Callisto's annoyance. It's not like they can blame the party for being thrown over the ledge in what was supposed to be an abandoned castle.

"Maybe we should-"

Suddenly the clock starts chiming an old rickety rhythm.

"That's probably not good," Callisto says. Instinctually he puts himself in between Prophis and the clock.

"Uh, guys? What time is it?" Prophis asks as the clock starts ringing louder.

Goodbid fishes a pocket watch out and flips it open. "It's five minutes until midnight!"

The clock continues to grow louder, and the castle starts to come down around them.

"We should run!" Prophis says backing away. "We need to run, right now!" He grabs Callisto's hand and turns on his heels, sprinting down the stone staircase and out into the halls. Large chunks of the ceilings and walls crash to the floor around them, sending dust and debris into their faces. They careen into the foyer and Prophis throws a shield up over their heads to keep the pillars from crushing everyone. Callisto doubles the shield, taking some of the strain off of Prophis as he runs forward and throws open the doors. Everyone dives into the grass as the castle collapses behind them.

Glib lays face down in the grass, S.G. kneels next to him, Canyon and Goodbid stand behind both of them as they all pant heavily. Prophis and Callisto stand a few feet away, leaning on each other.

Distantly from under the rumble Prophis swears he can hear one last knell of the bells in the clock before his world fades to black and he wakes up in his warm bed again.

***

S.G.

S.G. throws herself out of bed and runs down the stairs, Goodbid hot on her heels.

"Alright, so what now?" Goodbid asks as Canyon gets off the couch -where he apparently had the misfortune of falling asleep the night before the loop began.

"I don't know," S.G. says as she starts pacing up and down the living area.

"What is there to do other than wait for Mystery Man and his Chaos God boyfriend to fix this mess?" Glib asks with a yawn from the top of the stairs before he slowly saunters down. It is well understood that if someone out sleeps Glib, they are probably sick or hurt, but if Glib wakes up before everyone else, he is probably sick.

"We could always go to the mansion and help them," S.G. suggests.

"Now, I don't think that's a good idea," Goodbid says anxiously.

"I agree with Goodbid," Glib says. "We'd just-" he stops to yawn into his hand. "We'd just get in the way." S.G. wants to yawn with him. She's so tired that she feels dead on her feet, but she shouldn't be tired. She just woke up, right?

"Yes, but we aren't helping by staying here!" S.G. counters sharply.

"But down there, we'd slow everything down. And anyways I think Goodbid is going to go catatonic if we take him back there again," Canyon says with a lazy flick of his tail.

S.G. glares but says nothing, returning to pacing up and down. She paces and tries to figure out how to fix this, to come up with a plan.

As she walks a hole in the ground, she watches as the boys begin to dog pile on the couch. Goodbid sits on the left side of the couch, kicking his legs up, and taking up the entire couch. Canyon, instead of having Goodbid move his legs like a sensible person would do, lays face down on Goodbid's chest. The mustached man just sighs and excepts Canyon's antics.

"Cat, sit up, I wanna be in the middle," Glib demands. Canyon huffs a laugh, but props himself up on his elbows, nonetheless. Glib, being just a little frog, crawls in between them and plops down. Canyon lays back down and Goodbid just chuckles tiredly. They settle down and start dozing off.

S.G. thinks about joining them, but then she has a thought.

"What if we ask Doc?" S.G. asks.

Goodbid cracks open an eye. "Yeah, maybe, but can we wait until after we nap? I feel like I haven't slept in three days."

"We probably haven't," Glib says, although his voice is muffled from being under Canyon. "We keep waking up, but we haven't been sleeping."

"Shut up, both of you," Canyon gripes without opening his eyes.

"Wanna join us?" Goodbid asks with a yawn.

"The couch is too small for that many people," S.G. says, "I vote we have a cuddle pile on my bed," she suggests with a smile.

S.G. has the best room with the largest, softest bed in the whole house, payment for being the only girl. It had cost a decent amount of coin to get it, but S.G. adores her bed. And so does Canyon. Canyon's head perks up at the mention of her bed. He's always looking for a reason to cat nap there -pun intended.

He gets off the others and motions S.G. up the stairs. S.G. swallows a laugh at Goodbid following them up, carrying Glib like the world's angriest teddy bear. Said teddy bear is half-awake which somehow makes Glib docile. Goodbid collapses just left of the center of the bed, Glib laying on his chest. S.G. crawls up and lays down heavily next to him, letting out an oomph sound as she hits the pillows. She throws one leg over Goodbid's and one arm over Glib. Canyon is the last to join because he lays across all of them, carefully minding his chaos arm, and curls up tightly. S.G. buries her other hand in his fur before using her mage hand to pull a blanket over all of them. Her curtains are still drawn so the room is completely dark, except for the lazy pulsing of Canyon's magic arm.

"Night, y'all," Goodbid says with a yawn.

"Night," Canyon says with a slight purr.

S.G. just nods her head in acknowledgement while Glib is out cold.

*

By the time everyone woke up and ate something, it was 10 in the evening, leaving them two hours until everything will repeat.

They're all sat at the dining room table. Canyon and Goodbid are on one side with S.G. and Glib across from them. Canyon is sharpening blades, Goodbid's mending clothes -with the spell, although he is not above using a needle and thread- S.G.'s trying to polish and clean the armor she still hasn't figured out how to get off, and Glib is simply trying to wake up.

The house is calmly quiet, except for the rhythmic sound of Canyon's wet stone against his dagger, and smells of coffee, and the breakfast the Goodbid quickly through together to avoid the wrath of a hangry S.G.

The aforementioned changeling adores quiet morning moments like this. It gives her the feeling of having a normal little family, something she never really got to experience when she was young.

S.G. had just finished cleaning the blood out of her right gauntlet when Glib breaks the comfortable silence.

"Are we still going to try and ask Doc about this?" Glib asks while he sips his blood-coffee which is coffee made with blood instead of water.

"This loop or in general?" Canyon asks, he holds his dagger up to the light to inspect his work before returning to sharpening it.

"Both, I guess," Glib says as he downs the rest of the coffee.

"I can get in contact with Doc," S.G. says while she works on her left gauntlet. "But honestly, I want to take a day to relax and sleep. All of that reading wiped me out."

The others hum or nod their agreement.

"I'm not sure I'd be able to follow a Doc explanation right now, anyway," Glib says as he stands up to put his mug up.

"I've never understood a Doc explanation," Canyon says, completely honestly, but the rest of them laugh at the relatability of it.

"So, tomorrow then?" Goodbid says as he finally finishes mending the last of the clothes.

"Bid, you know you'll just have to do that again, right?" Glib says as he pads back into the room.

Goodbid opens his mouth before looking disgruntled and clicking it back shut.

"Well, if we aren't doing anything today, I want to go back to sleep," Canyon says as bluntly as ever as he sets down his blades once he also realizes he'll just have to do it over again.

"I'm down with that," Glib says already heading for the stairs. S.G. starts to put everything up before realizing that it won't matter anyway. She follows them upstairs where they reform the cuddle pile in the same way they had it before.

Everyone falls asleep slowly, not nearly as tired as they were the first time they fell asleep, but still tired. S.G.'s asleep for what she knows must've been two hours because she thinks she hears distant bells ringing before she wakes up alone in her bed, the birds singing the same stupid tune they've been singing. She groans and throws herself out of bed. Time to find Doc and get back to business.

***

Canyon

"If I ever try to sleep on the couch, someone smack me."

Canyon is absolutely, positively, without a singular doubt sick of waking up on the couch. It isn't comfortable and it makes his back hurt.

"Its not our fault that you were too lazy to move to your room after dinner," Goodbid says as he passes Canyon his breakfast. Toast, eggs, and bacon. Simple but good, and it doesn't hurt that its Canyon's favorite meal.

"Thanks," Canyon says as he starts inhaling his food. "How'd you become the cook, anyway?"

"I was the only one that could do it," Goodbid says simply as he sits down with his own breakfast. S.G. is in a different room talking to the other psychics trying to locate Doc.

"What do you mean the only one? I can cook!" Canyon says hotly.

"But they don't want you in the kitchen," Goodbid explains. "Something about how you constantly shed fur."

Canyon bristles but says nothing about it, instead he asks, "okay but what about S.G. and Glib?"

"Glib's too short to see onto the stove and he also has toxic skin." Goodbid stops to take a bite of his food. "And S.G. nearly burnt down the kitchen while trying to cook the pasta I had pre-made." Canyon barks out a laugh at that. He remembers that and how genuinely distraught Goodbid had been when he came home to no dinner and a scorched kitchen.

"Is she allowed in the kitchen?" Canyon asks with a teasing grin.

"Not without supervision," Goodbid says bluntly, crunching into his toast.

"What are we talking about?" Glib asks as he meanders into the kitchen.

"I asked why Goodbid does the cooking and he told me that I shed too much, you are too short, and S.G. nearly burnt down the kitchen," Canyon says. He stands up and takes his plate back to the kitchen for seconds.

Glib laughs tiredly. "Yeah, to be fair I'm not sure I actually remember how to cook normal food anymore anyway," Glib says as he gets the jug of blood out of the cold cabinet. He takes a long drink from it before putting the stopper back in it. He sets in on the counter. "I drank all of that so if we break the cycle this time, we'll need to get more."

"Alright I'll put it on the list," Goodbid says. Canyon can hear him click open his briefcase, write something down, and then the click of it shutting again.

"I have good news and bad news!" S.G. announces as she joins everyone. "Well, it's actually good news, bad news, and slightly worse news."

"Of course, it is," Glib grumbles as he and Canyon walk back into the dining room, the cat man carrying more food than should be physically possible to eat but the others know better than to doubt him. His stomach is a bottomless pit, and he has proved that fact time and time again. "Alright what's the good news?"

"Good news, I have located Doc."

"Alright, bad news?"

"Bad news, he's at Franklin Castle because of rumors of a psychic living there," S.G. says with a shrug. The others groan.

"Okay, great," Glib says in a "God-kill-me-now" way.

"On the bright side, we don't have to listen to a Doc rant," Canyon says in his normal nonchalant tone, even though he wants to bash his head into a wall.

"Canyon's got a point," Goodbid says as he plays with his mustache. "We probably wouldn't have gleaned any information from it anyway."

"Yeah, yeah, alright," Glib says waving his hands around, "what's the slightly worse news?"

"Callisto and Prophis were at the castle all of yester-loop and they can't figure out how to end this," S.G. explains, crossing her arms as she does.

They sit in silence and stare at each other. If their God friends couldn't figure it out, what were they good for? Wait, God friends.

"Hey, Glib," Canyon exclaims, "have you asked your God?"

Glib stares at him for a moment before slowly shaking his head. The room goes dark, his eyes glaze over in a bright blood red.

"Hey man, we got a problem!" Glib says. A deep, watery grumble answers him. "Yeah, okay so obviously you aren't apart of it, I was just hoping you would know how to fix it!" Another grumble answers. "I'm getting there!"

The others look between each other. No one can understand the elder god except for Glib so these conversations are a little stressful.

"So, we are stuck in a time loop." There's silence for a moment before an outraged roar. "It's not like we did it on purpose, get off my ass!" There's a huff before Glib continues. "We were walking around a castle that belonged to- uh- Goodbid! What was her name?"

"Zinrie Olvito," Goodbid tells him after checking his briefcase.

"Yeah, that! She was some sort of time warlock and we got thrown at this giant clock and-" The God cuts him off, apparently asking a question. "Uh, yeah actually. Why does that matter?" The God tells him something and Glib pales, or at least he kind of pales. It's hard to tell with his skin being black and blue. "You've got to be kidding me." The God responds by laughing before cutting the call, returning the room to its normal light levels.

"So?" S.G. asks hopefully.

"We are so fucked," Glib says exasperatedly. "We are so fucked! Okay, so you know that clock that we hit?"

"Yeah, is it important?" Canyon asks.

"Oh, yeah it's just one of the three Celestial Clocks on Vontral," Glib says with a slightly deranged laugh.

"I thought there were two Celestial Clocks?" Goodbid says, scratching his head.

"Yeah, the one here and the one in Parian," S.G. chips in.

"Apparently this Zinrie lady also built one," Glib explains. "And when we crashed into it, I think we broke it."

"We broke a Celestial Clock?" Goodbid asks, his smile looking increasingly more manic.

"Yep." Glib drags a hand down his face. "Hey, S.G. could you get Mystery-Bitch and his boy toy down here? They probably need to know about this."

S.G. sighs. "Yes, give me like five minutes."

*

"You what?!" Callisto roars once they finish explaining what the God had told them.

"Love, calm down, it's not like they meant to do it," Prophis says, placing a hand on Mystery Man's shoulder.

"I don't care whether or not they meant to! They still did it!" Callisto roars. Canyon just stares at him with a blank expression.

"If you want to throw a tantrum, do it outside," Canyon says bluntly with an air of amusement. "I don't want to listen to it."

"I'm not-" Callisto says getting even angrier.

"I don't know, that kinda looks like a tantrum," S.G. says coyly. Canyon watches Prophis bite back a laugh while Callisto gets increasingly redder as he sputters indignantly. He suddenly stands up, his chair screeching awfully against the floor, and walks through a wall. The entire house shakes with the force of Callisto screams, but Canyon can only laugh at the grown man who is throwing a tantrum. He walks back through the wall, noticeably calmer, and retakes his seat.

"There, now I won't kill you," Callisto says.

"How come you didn't know it was a Celestial Clock?" Canyon asks. "I thought you were like all knowing or something."

"I'm not 'all knowing' I'm just extremely powerful," Callisto says tiredly. "And what part of 'I don't fuck with time' didn't you understand?" Callisto snaps hotly.

"Yeah, but shouldn't you have recognized it?" Canyon says tail flicking playfully.

"Shouldn't you have recognized it if they're so famous?" Callisto counters.

"No, I've never seen them," Canyon says boredly.

"Neither have I," Callisto states bluntly.

"What but your like thousands of years old!"

"Yeah, and the founders of Symmetras has been dead for most of those! Those clocks are extremely well guarded to keep things like this from happening!" Callisto exclaims.

Canyon makes a quiet 'o' noise before shutting up. Callisto really might nuke him if he keeps talking.

"So, I think it's fair to assume not a fucking one of us has a clue how to fix these Celestial Clocks?" Glib asks.

Prophis and Callisto shake their heads.

"Great, fucking great," Glib grumbles.

"Alright, well, someone has to know something about these clocks," Canyon points out before they fall into a pit of despair. "Isn't there some sort of clock master thing, right?"

Callisto thinks for a moment before nodding slowly. "I think there are researchers who study the clocks."

"Maybe one of them knows something," Prophis suggests.

"Alright, but how do we get in?" Goodbid asks.

Prophis and Callisto look at him for a moment before they share a secret smile.

"What?" Glib asks, taking the word right out of Canyon's mouth.

"You are looking at the two living founders of Symmetras," Callisto says with an air of confidence that he wasn't using before.

"They'll have to let us in," Prophis finishes with eloquence and squares his shoulders.

Team Chaos looks at each other before grinning mischievously.

"Well, lets go see some clocks!" Goodbid exclaims happily.

"I already regret this," Callisto sighs as he stands up and heads for the door.

*

It took the six of them a while to actually get to the clocks. Finding the building should have been easy except the clock is apparently one of the few things underground in Rift Reach. Next came the hassle of finding someone who could explain anything to them. More than once Callisto nearly shot someone; S.G. was told to stop gaslighting; Glib considered drinking a scholar or two; Goodbid had to explain that, yes, he is a hit man, no, he is not going to kill anyone here; Canyon was told to put his weapons away; and Prophis sent the Team outside before they caused a fight.

All in all, Canyon was having a blast.

"So, you are saying there is a third Celestial Clock near Wainua?" Mr. Yewheart, a kind centaur man who is willing to help them out, asks.

"Yes, and these idiots stumbled upon it while searching the castle for the previous owner," Callisto reiterates for the thousandth time.

"I see, and how exactly was it broken?" Mr. Yewheart asks as he walks towards the library of documents about the Celestial Clocks.

"Glib -the frog man- and I were picked up by the banshee that lives there and thrown at it," Goodbid explains, taking over for Callisto who looks like he will send the centaur to a glue factory if he is asked to repeat himself again.

"I see, and you just hit it?"

"Yes, sir," Goodbid says with his best businessman smile.

"Was anything cracked or otherwise broken?" Mr. Yewheart asks. He grabs two scrolls off a stack and starts skimming over them. He readjusts his glasses and pinches his eyebrows.

"No, well, uh," Goodbid scratches his head before looking at Glib. "I was knocked out about as soon as we hit the clock, so Glib?"

"Uh, there was a crack when we hit, but I think that was just Goodbid's bones shattering," Glib says bluntly.

"My bones?!" Goodbid yelps.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that hitting the clock killed you."

Canyon cackles at the alarmed look on Goodbid's face.

"Well, you look quite alright for someone whose been so recently... harmed," Mr. Yewheart says kindly to Goodbid with a questioning look.

"Oh yeah, we are in a time loop," Canyon chimes in.

Mr. Yewheart stops reading and snaps his eyes to him. "Did you just say time loop?'

"Uh, yeah?" Canyon says kind of alarmed by the sudden change in the centaur's demeanor.

"Next time, lead with that tidbit of information!" the centaur scolds. "How long has this been looping?" he asks seriously.

"Uh, this is day like five?" Canyon says confused.

"Mm, that is good, much longer and things could have been much worse," Yewheart, says nodding.

"What do you mean much worse?!" Glib shouts, clutching Stick to his chest.

"The longer you live in this loop, the worse the world will react to you when you leave the loop," Yewheart says as he puts his scrolls up and turns to a different stack of papers.

"Oh great! Why the fuck do you know that?!" Glib shrieks.

"This has happened a few times before," Yewheart explains.

"Okay, that's good! Now how do we undo this?!" Callisto roars, completely done with this.

Yewheart looks unamused at Callisto's outbreak before saying, "I am not sure. This has not happened in my lifetime, nor is it the area I am educated in."

"Of course not," Callisto groans.

"I'm sorry, but you are welcomed to look through our scrolls," Mr. Yewheart says, gesturing around him. Canyon immediately thinks of all the ways he could get out of reading. He hates reading, always has always will.

"Thank you," Prophis says, placing a hand on Callisto's shoulder to silence the rude remark Callisto was clearly about to say. "Goodbid, what time is it?"

Goodbid fishes out his pocket watch and flips it open. "We have four hours until midnight."

"It's 8 already?!" Callisto says confused.

"Yeah, it took all day to find someone who will take us seriously," Canyon says as he walks over to the table of scrolls. "So, we better get started before we have to do it all over again."

"That is a good point," S.G. says as she starts picking up scrolls and books, reading their titles in order to see if they would be any use to them.

The next four hours are spent in agonizing silence while everyone reads their texts.

A faint bell startles Canyon. His head snaps up at the same time most of the other's also raise.

"Five minutes 'til midnight?" S.G. asks Goodbid who pulls out his watch and nods. Glib hasn't looked up, seeming to be absorbed in his reading.

"So, we all heard the bells?" Goodbid asks relieved.

"Huh?" Glib asks his eyes still glued to the book.

"Did you hear those bells?" Goodbid asks again.

"Yeah, they've rang every night at the same time," Glib says dismissively, still reading. Canyon's got to give it to him, he is very determined to finish that book despite having only five minutes left.

"Anyone find anything helpful?" Canyon asks, pushing his book away from himself. Prophis and Callisto read the most, going through several books and scrolls in the short time while S.G., Goodbid, and Glib have made it through a handful of scrolls and half a book in Glib's case.

Canyon has only made it about a fourth of a way through his own small book, but it's not his fault! These books are for magic users! He's a rogue! None of this makes any sense to him!

"No, I only found information about how they were made and how they work," Prophis says, rubbing his temples.

"I couldn't find anything pertaining to time loops," Callisto says as he floats all of his scrolls back to where they belong.

They look at S.G. who shakes her head.

"Goodbid?"

"Only thing that I found is that they work on the blessing of a God," Goodbid says tiredly. "So maybe we upset a God by hitting it?"

"Shit, maybe, but my God would have said something if another God was beefing with me," Glib says, flipping a page of his book.

"You find anything, Glib?" Canyon asks hopefully.

"Maybe?" Glib says. "Hey, Mystery Man."

"Yeah?" Callisto responds. Canyon wants to point out that he has accepted the fact that they only call him Mystery Man, but he decides that now is probably not the best time for that.

"You went to the castle and studied it for a day, right?" Glib asks, flipping another page.

"That would be correct, yes," Callisto says in his trademark "get on with it" way.

"Were the clock hands moving correctly? Like were they timed out correctly?" Glib asks.

Callisto is silent for a moment and then slowly nods his head.

"Did you just nod?" Glib asks, still nose deep in the tome.

"Yes," Callisto says hotly.

"Okay, Jesus, man, relax! Since the hands were moving it means we didn't break the clock, there's something we need to do to end the cycle," Glib explains. "And from what I'm reading, it could be literally anything though, so we are kinda fucked."

"Where are you getting that information?" Callisto asks, although its closer to demands and if it were Canyon, he would've made Mystery Man ask nicely before he told him jack shit.

Glib holds up his book. "This. It's a collection of accounts from the people who have been stuck in loops. Next loop you should probably read it." Glib for the first time looks up. He sits up and pops his shoulders.

The bells suddenly get much louder, still sounding faint and distant, but now a clearer noise.

"Here we go again!" Canyon says with a smile that immediately fades when he wakes up with back pain on the couch.

***

Callisto

Waking up to look at his beautiful boyfriend is a sight that Callisto is certain he can never nor will ever get sick of. Especially not after being deprived of the gorgeous sight for a couple millennia.

He is, however, getting extremely sick of the circumstances in which he wakes up looking at his boyfriend.

"Should we go to the library by ourselves or get the idiots first?" Callisto asks, his voice gravelly from just waking up.

"Be nice to them!" Prophis scolds with no heat. "And we should get them first in case we have any questions."

Callisto nods and sighs deeply. He holds onto his boyfriend for a moment longer before getting out of bed. With the snap of his fingers, Callisto is dressed in a sleek-white button-down shirt (the top two buttons being left undone of course. He is a manwhore after all), dark grey dress pants, loose-fitting black overcoat, and his signature black gloves. He summons a mirror and makes sure the rest of him is presentable.

He fixes his hair while Prophis gets out of bed and stretches. Callisto drinks in the pale expanse of his chest while Prophis rolls his shoulders and neck. Callisto knows Prophis is hot, and so does Prophis, so he has no issue with openly staring at his handsome boyfriend. All too soon, Prophis' chest is covered again, as he does the same spell that Callisto did moments ago.

The dark-haired man sighs and begrudgingly opens a portal to the front of Team Chaos' door.

"After you, my love," Callisto says with a broad gesture.

"Such a gentleman," Prophis says sweetly as he steps through the portal onto the calm and empty street.

"Only for you, Prophis, only for you," Callisto says with a smile, following behind.

Callisto had actually bought them the house, a goodwill gesture he had called it. Really it was just a way to keep them close enough for the destruction and chaos they caused to be easily counteracted which had worked until now. In fairness to himself, Callisto is also certain that there really wasn't anyway to predict that they would find a Celestial Clock and then accidentally break it.

Callisto is many things, but a miracle worker is not one of them. That's a lie, he frequently does things that qualifies as miracles but not in this instance! Celestial Clock! Time Loops! How could he have known?!

"Deep breaths, Cal," Prophis says, putting his hand gently on Callisto's cheek. "We aren't even inside yet."

"I know, my love, I know," Callisto says while trying to reign in his anger before he throws open the door and strides in.

"Jesus!" Glib screams, spilling his strangely colored coffee everywhere.

"We are going back to the library so we can read that book the frog-"

"My name is Glib! You know that you dick!"

"-had yesterday. We are bringing you with us in case either of us has any questions," Callisto explains bluntly while Prophis magically undoes the coffee splatters, always so kind to the idiots.

"Yeah, okay, Jesus!" Glib says frustratedly. "Just let me finish this and we'll go."

Callisto wants to tell him to take it with him, but Prophis silences him with a side-eye glare.

"Y'all want some breakfast? I made plenty of pancakes!" Goodbid says as he brings two large plates of pancakes out of the kitchen and sits one down in the center of the table, and the other directly in front of Canyon.

"No-" Callisto tries to say but Prophis is already walking forward with an excited look in his eye.

"Yes please! I've heard wonderful things about your cooking, Mr. Goodbid!" Prophis says as he politely takes a seat next to Canyon.

"Aw, shucks! You're gonna make me blush, Mr. Prophis!" Goodbid says with an over-the-top southern gentleman's smile.

Callisto sighs tiredly.

"Do you have any more coffee?" Callisto asks as he takes the spare seat next to his blonde boyfriend.

"We do, assumin' you don't want any blood coffee," Goodbid jokes as he walks back to the kitchen.

"Blood what now?!" Callisto exclaims, appalled by the idea alone.

"It's what Glib drinks," Canyon supplies as he begins to eat the stack of pancakes in front of him. The stack is easily the size of his head, but he is eating it as if it was nothing. Callisto just watches in amazement as the overgrown cat scoffs down his food with impressive -and slightly terrifying- speed.

"And why is it blood-coffee and not regular coffee? I've seen you consume regular food and drinks," Prophis asks with genuine curiosity, but Callisto is still watching in horror as Canyon eats his last pancake.

"Here ya go, Canyon," Goodbid says as he re-emerges from the kitchen, again carrying a large plate of pancakes that he sits down in front of Canyon. "Remember to taste it!" He sets a massive plate of bacon down at the center of the table and a few smaller bowls of fruit.

"Two birds, one stone," S.G. says simply while she and Glib pile their plates with breakfast. "Glib gets his blood and caffeine in one drink."

"Here's your coffee, sirs," Goodbid says as he puts down two giant cups of coffee in front of the lovers.

"Goodbid, sit and eat some of your own damn food," Glib says, tapping the seat next to him. "You don't need to wait on us."

"I will, I'm just gonna get S.G.'s water," Goodbid says, already walking back into the kitchen before coming back with a glass of water for S.G., a glass of milk for Canyon, a second cup of blood-coffee for Glib, and an ice-tea for himself.

"Okay, we have food and drinks, now sit your ass down and eat," Canyon says around a mouth full of food, pointing his fork at the empty seat next to Glib. At this point everyone except for Goodbid and Callisto are eating.

"Alright, hold your horses-!"

"Friday?!" S.G. asks excitedly, but Goodbid just keeps talking over her.

"I'm sittin' down!" Goodbid says with no heat as he plops down next to the frog man. He takes a heaping portion of the food and eats it down quickly, but not really as quick as Canyon.

Callisto gives in and tries a pancake, and he has to admit that they are insanely good.

"They're my Mama's recipe!" Goodbid laughs when he sees Callisto's shocked face. "She's one hell of a cook!"

The rest of breakfast passes with the occasional small talk while they all eat Goodbid's amazing food. Impressively, he made just enough for all of them with no leftovers. Canyon, S.G., and Glib pick up the plates and take them to the kitchen. They form an efficient team as they wash, dry, and put up all of the dishes while Goodbid drinks the rest of his tea.

"I take it this happens often? You cook and they clean up?" Callisto asks.

"Oh, yeah. I do all the cookin', but they do the dishes in return," Goodbid says as he fixes his mustache. "We all do a good bit of cleanin' around the house though."

"You guys work really well together," Prophis says as he leans onto Callisto, mostly out of habit.

"Yeah, we formed some really quick habits after the first month of living together," Goodbid laughs, "I really think it's the only reason we haven't killed each other yet!"

Callisto laughs, remembering the first few months that he and Prophis lived together and how often they fought because of it.

"It only took a month for you to work everything out?" Callisto asks, drinking the last of his coffee.

"Yeah, we basically sat in the living room and divided chores," Goodbid says with a softer smile. "Here, let me take that to the kitchen." He holds out his hand and takes the coffee cups from Prophis and Callisto before taking them to the kitchen. Callisto watches him press against S.G. so he can place the mugs into the water without her having to move. Callisto waits for S.G. to hit him, but it doesn't come.

"And your certain that they aren't dating?" Callisto asks lowly, his eyes not leaving Goodbid who is still in the kitchen, helping S.G. dry a different cup. Her gauntlets are apparently making it difficult, and Callisto is curious why she isn't just using a mage hand to do it.

"My love, I believe they are," Prophis says lightly, his voice also low so the others can't eavesdrop, "but I'm unsure if they know that's what they are doing." He leans back and straightens his vest, brushing away invisible crumbs.

"Hmph," Callisto huffs as Goodbid starts back to the dining room.

"And its not romantic in any case," Prophis says quietly so Goodbid can't overhear.

"I suppose," Callisto says as he strokes his beard.

"Once they're done, we'll head on down," Goodbid says, fixing his suit sleeves.

Callisto nods. He's willing to sit in silence while they wait, but Prophis seems to be allergic to silence.

"You said those pancakes where your Mother's recipe?" Prophis asks politely.

"Yes, sir! She is the sweetest little lady," Goodbid says with a reminiscing smile. "But you hurt her family and she'll have ya on your knees beggin' for mercy." He chuckles as he fixes his mustache, leaning on the table.

"Do you have a big family?" Prophis asks kindly.

"Oh, like you wouldn't imagine! I've got six siblings and twenty-five cousins! Includin' marriage of course," Goodbid says with a broad smile. "Oh, and six second cousins -all of them are little right now so none of 'em are married- and one niece!"

"Oh my!" Prophis says, shocked.

"Jesus!" Callisto says, already imagining what that many Goodbids could possibly be like and getting a headache from it.

"Family dinners must be packed!" Prophis laughs.

"Y'all should come ta one! Ma would love to have ya!" Goodbid says good-naturedly.

Callisto shoots a pleading look to Prophis, who completely ignores him.

"We'd love to!" Prophis says with a malicious smile thrown at Callisto.

"Alright, the kitchen is clean!" S.G. says as she walks out, flanked by the other two.

"Great! Let's get going then," Callisto says, standing up and walking to the door. With a silent incantation, Callisto opens a portal directly next to Mr. Yewheart, who jumps and backs away from the portal looking petrified.

"Hello, Mr. Yewheart!" Prophis says sweetly as he steps through. "You probably do not remember us, but we are stuck in a time loop because the businessman and the frog-" he points at Goodbid and Glib, "-were thrown at the third Celestial Clock which is located near Wainua," Prophis explains quickly and efficiently.

"Now, if you would please give us access to the library so we can find a way to undo this," Callisto says in a similar "we aren't here to cause trouble" tone.

"O-oh, yes of course," Yewheart says as he straightens his glasses and rights his clothes that gotten wrinkled and twisted in his panic. "Follow me." He starts walking down a hall and the others are swift to follow. "If you don't mind me asking, how exactly do you know my name?" He asks nervously.

"Oh, no need to worry, you met us last loop and you were the only one in this place that was not an asshole to us," S.G. says, telling the truth for once.

Yewheart visibly relaxes. "That's good to know," he says, his shoulders dropping from their tight position.

He stops in front of the doors to the library. He opens them slowly and steps to the side. "I'm sure I've already told you this, but please be gentle with those books. They are quite old," he says quietly as everyone files in.

"Yes, yes, thank you," Callisto says as he shuts the door with a magical flick of his wrist. Glib walks down one of the library aisles before coming back with the book he had last loop.

"Here ya go," he says as he hands the book the Prophis.

"If you need us, we'll be over there, napping," Canyon says as all of them walk to an open space on the floor. Callisto watches in amazement as they form a well-practiced cuddle pile on the floor.

"Either they are playing us for complete fools, or they really are the most oblivious adventurers I could have possibly found," Callisto whispers to the elf with less malice than he intended and a startling amount of awe.

"Well, I can't argue with that," Prophis whispers back with a silent laugh. "They let Palnaros out without thinking of the repercussions and did the same thing with Aldor not even a week later!"

Callisto tilts his head to the side before shaking it.

"In my defense I really did think they would die before finding that portal," Callisto says playfully as he takes a seat at the ancient wooden table. Prophis gently places the book between them, and they read through it in silence.

They finish it in about ten minutes thanks to a speed-reading spell Callisto perfected years ago.

"So," Prophis says slowly, as if he is still trying to wrap his head around everything he just read. "The easiest way to undo this is for the same thing to happen again?"

"It seems that way," Callisto agrees, relieved that this nightmare of a day can be over with.

"But that would mean Goodbid and Glib would have to be thrown at the clock by the banshee again," the blonde elf points out, playing with his hair out of nervous habit.

"That is correct," Callisto says, trying to get Prophis to spit it out.

"Well, Goodbid is terrified of that Banshee, remember?" Prophis says worriedly, his eyes flicking to the pile of Team Chaos. "There's no way he'll agree with this!"

"It's not like we have any other options," Callisto says rationally. Leave it to his boyfriend to want to baby full grown people. "He'll get over it."

"Cal! Stop being so cruel to them!" Prophis scolds. "They are your friends!"

"Hardly," Callisto says bluntly.

"Callisto!" Prophis hisses.

"Fine, fine, we have the rest of the day to look for alternatives, but we are telling them the plan when they wake up," Callisto concedes as he stands up to gather more books.

"Thank you," Prophis says in such a way that makes Callisto wonder how he could possibly ever tell his lover no.

*

It takes several hours for the others to wake up. By the time they have extracted themselves from the floor, Callisto has read most of the material in the library using the same reading spell.

"Welcome to the world of the awake," Callisto says sarcastically as he floats the books back to their places. "I was beginning to think you'd never wake up."

"How are the two of you not sleeping? Glib asks with a yawn.

"What do you mean?" Prophis says as he finishes his book.

"I mean, we're tired unless we nap," Glib says.

"What the frog means is how are you not tired?" Canyon asks as he brushes his fur back into place. "Are you- like- napping when we aren't around?"

Callisto looks at Prophis to translate what the hell they are going on about.

Prophis looks just as lost a Callisto feels until something seemingly clicks in his head. "Oh, I'm a Chaos God, I don't need to sleep, I just do, and Callisto does a spell every morning to dispel any sleepiness that he has. I suppose we just aren't tired," Prophis says, not sounding completely confident in what he says.

"Lucky," Goodbid yawns, looking the worst out of all of them which makes sense seeing as he was on the bottom of everyone. His mustache is skewed, his suit is wrinkled, and his hair is sticking up in odd ways under his top hat.

"Callisto, help him," Prophis tells him mentally.

"Fine, but only because you asked me too," Callisto huffs before using the same spell he uses on himself on Goodbid.

Goodbid is startled for a moment before looking down at himself.

"Well, gee! Thanks, Mr. Callisto!" Goodbid says cheerily, smoothing his palms down the front of his shirt.

"Yes, please hold on to that good attitude, you're going to need it for this plan to work," Callisto says only a little regretfully.

"What Callisto is trying to say is, we have a plan, but you might not like it," Prophis says with enough sympathy for both of them.

"Well, what's the plan?" Goodbid asks, noticeably more nervous.

"The only way we have found to undo this loop is the same way it got started. Which means you need to get repicked up by the banshee and slammed into the clock," Callisto says quickly, trying to rip the bandage off.

Goodbid's eyes go wide, and his smile becomes manic. "What?" He laughs, looking like he is a hair's breadth away from going insane.

"It's the only way we've found, Goodbid," Prophis says. He rounds the table and gently places a hand on Goodbid's shoulder. "I am truly sorry." He wears a sad smile, a starch contrast to the thousand-yard stare Goodbid is sporting.

"However, we do need to wait until tomorrow- er- the next loop to do it," Callisto explains, trying to ease the thick tension. "So, you have the rest of the day to mentally prepare."

"With all do respect, Mystery Man, there is not much I can do to prepare for this," Goodbid says through gritted teeth.

"Let's get you home, okay?" Prophis says taking his arm. Prophis opens a portal and gently guides Goodbid through. The others follow quietly behind.

Callisto catches S.G.'s arm. "Make sure he is okay enough for us to go through with this tomorrow," he says sternly. "I don't want to traumatize him."

"Will do," she says as Callisto lets go of her. She and the other boys go upstairs, Goodbid following like a zombie.

"Are we sure this is the best course of action?" Prophis asks gently as Callisto opens a portal to their house.

"No, not really, but it's the best we've got," Callisto says honestly, knowing better than to lie to his boyfriend, even if it would be a white lie.

They spend the rest of the day relaxing together before turning into bed early. They are both startled awake by the bells.

"God, I hope this works," Callisto murmurs into the back of Prophis' neck.

***

Goodbid

Goodbid is not having a good morning. He wakes up sick to his stomach with anxiety and doesn't want to get out from under his blanket.

He knows he needs to get up and make the others some breakfast or the house might get burnt down, but he can't bring himself to do it.

He has to go back to that mansion with a banshee in it, and he has to let it pick him up. He has to let it touch him. His stomach rolls and he leans over his bed and dry heaves into a trashcan he has near his bed.

He's sick. He can't do it. That's what he'll tell them. They'll have to believe him.

The knock at his door causes him to scream as he presses himself against the back wall.

"It's just me, Goodbid," S.G. says through the door. "Can I come in?"

Goodbid sighs in relief. "Yes," he says shakily.

S.G. cracks the door open before slowly stepping inside. In one hand she has a cup of coffee and in the other she carries a bowl of what looks like oatmeal but smells decidedly different.

"It's a simple food made in my village for the sick," S.G. explains when she sees where his eyes go. "It's so plain that not even I could mess it up."

Goodbid chuckles lightly and relaxes slightly. S.G. hands him the bowl and sets the coffee on his nightstand.

"It's a cold dish, so I didn't risk burning everything down," S.G. says as she sits on the edge of the bed.

Goodbid cautiously takes a bite. Its texture is similar to oatmeal, but it is smoother and tastes sweeter. It tastes like thick cream with faint hints of cinnamon and fruit.

"This is really good!" Goodbid says appraisingly.

"Thank you," S.G. says with the cocky confidence you can only find in S.G. before she skittishly adds, "its normally served with fresh soft bread, but we didn't have any, and I didn't want to risk setting fire to the kitchen while you were asleep."

"It's okay S.G., I like it just as it is," Goodbid says with a genuine, soft smile. "You'll have to teach me how to make it."

S.G. looks at him and nods. Goodbid is under the impression that if she could smile, she would.

"But first we have to break this loop," S.G. says as lightly as she can, but Goodbid still feels his anxiety come crashing back down onto him.

"I don't think I can do it, S.G.," Goodbid says as he starts picking at the fur of his blanket.

"We don't really have any other option, Goodbid," S.G. says honestly. "If there were, we would, believe me I don't particularly enjoy this plan either, but we still have to go through with it."

Goodbid looks at her and shakes his head. "Glib said that my bones cracked when I hit it last time, what if this time it really kills me?"

"You were unprepared last time. This time you'll have time to use protection spells," S.G. reasons. "Besides this time, I'll have Callisto and Prophis on standby, if you get hurt, they'll be there to help you."

"But what if Glib get's hurt?" Goodbid says, changing tactics.

"He's a squishy frog, he'll be fine. Last time he was alright enough to fire off three eldritch blasts at the banshee before he fell back," S.G. counters, completely unphased.

Goodbid sighs into his hands. "You're not taking a 'no' are you?"

"Nope, we need to end this cycle," S.G. says, lightly placing her hand on his shoulder.

Goodbid tsks before he slowly nods. "Let me finish this and my coffee and I'll meet you downstairs," Goodbid says, stroking his mustache.

"Okay, Prophis and Callisto are already here, so try not to stall for too long," S.G. jokes as she stands and leaves the room.

Goodbid watches her leave before drawing a shaky breath.

He can do this. He has to do this.

With shaky hands he drinks down his coffee and eats the rest of the not-oatmeal S.G. had made him.

"You can do this Mr. Goodbid!" He tells himself as he gets to his feet, pointedly ignoring how his legs shake like a newborn deer's. "Your friends are countin' on ya!" With very false confidence he carries his mug and bowl downstairs. It takes more effort than normal to put on his signature smile, but he's not Mr. Goodbid without it, is he?

In the living area Callisto and Prophis stand near the door while Canyon lays on the floor, and Glib and S.G. sit on the couch.

Prophis flashes him a kind smile, one which makes his heart yearn for his mother and her warm hugs.

"Are you up for it?" Prophis asks, crossing the room to take the bowl and mug from him. With a wave of his hand the dishes are cleaned before disappearing, assumably into the cabinet where they belong.

"I think so," Goodbid says, scratching his arm. "I don't have any other option so I might as well man up and get it over with."

Prophis nods before pulling him into a hug. "I can wipe your memory of it after if you want," Prophis whispers. "Or at least I can make Callisto do it. I don't know if you want me messing around with your memories," he jokes, nudging his side.

"I think I'll be okay," Goodbid says, pulling out of Prophis' hug to straighten his suit jacket. "Thank ya for the offer though." Prophis studies his face before nodding. He pats his shoulder before dropping his hands and turning back to the door. He opens a portal to the front door of the castle and motions the others through. Goodbid is in the back because it takes a lot of effort to get his quaking legs through the portal without collapsing.

"Monopoly, you are shaking like a leaf, you sure you're gonna make it?" Glib asks walking over to him.

"I'll be better once this is over with," Goodbid says, swallowing thickly. He runs his hands down his suit, not trying to straighten it, but trying to remove the thick layer of sweat that has settled on his hands.

"Yeah, that tracks," Glib says jokingly before looking towards Prophis and Callisto. "Does it need to happen at the same time of day, or...?"

"No, it can be anytime, the only thing that has to happen is you two have to be picked up and thrown at the clock by the angry banshee," Prophis says as he pulls his hair into a low ponytail. Goodbid almost outright laughs at Callisto practically drooling over Prophis and his hair. Goodbid has to give it to Callisto, he really does worship his Eldritch Chaos Monster boyfriend. "Which also means in order to make sure everything goes to plan, we are going to stay out here, isn't that right Callisto?"

Callisto stares for a whole second longer before slowly nodding.

"Do you have any idea what you just agreed to?" Prophis laughs.

"Huh, what?" Callisto says, shaking himself out of his stupor. "Uh, yeah we have to stay out here." His face is a little redder when he turns back to the rest of them, but Callisto is never one to admit when he's been caught. "Which means all of us. S.G. and Canyon included."

"What?!" S.G. demands. "Why can't we go in?!"

"Because we can't risk the banshee targeting you instead of them," Prophis explains, having the decency to look apologetic.

"With that being said, should anything bad happen, we will be one portal and a mental link away," Callisto says tapping his head. Prophis nods before flashing them a smile and gesturing for them to go to the doors.

"You'll make sure we don't die, right?" Goodbid asks as they approach the doors. He rings his hands one more time before placing them flat on the doors, mentally preparing to open them.

"Yes, I have a number of healing items on standby should anything bad happen." Callisto shows them an array of magic items before they disappear again.

"Alright, alright," Goodbid says. He laughs a little manically before throwing the doors open in a burst of bravery. "Let's get this fucking over with."

Glib sputters a cough as Goodbid picks him up and puts him on his shoulder, confidently strutting to the stairs.

"Woah, man! Chill! It's not like we're on a time crunch!" Glib yelps, throwing his arms around Goodbid's head.

"Yep, but if I stop movin', I don't think these ol' legs will get goin' again," Goodbid says, still walking up the stairs as he pries Glib's arms off his eyes.

Glib huffs a sigh but doesn't protest anymore. He rearranges himself on the mustached man's shoulders and holds on tightly.

Goodbid doesn't slow down until he is stood in front of the thick oak doors.

"Goodbid?" Glib prompts.

"I'm trying," Goodbid says before slowly pushing open the door. The hall is pitch black, he can only make out faint outlines of doors and paintings. "It's the door at the end of the hall, right?"

"Yep, just walk dead ahead," Glib says, settling on his shoulders. "I'll tell you if you're about to walk into anything, I promise."

Goodbid squeaks out an affirmative before stumbling ahead. He walks blindly forward, the only sounds being the sound of his breathing and the thump of his footsteps.

"Hold out your hands your about to be right in front of it," Glib says suddenly, digging his heel into Goodbid's shoulder like he was trying to steer a horse. Goodbid nods and sticks his hands out, only for them to brush against the hard wood of the door. He lowers his fingers to the nob, only to find a bar.

"Shit, right, this thing's locked up tighter than a drum," Goodbid says as he grabs a hold of it. "Give me a second. It took two people to open this last time." He fights and struggles against the bar for several minutes before it gives way with an awful screech of the metal.

"You doin' okay?" Glib asks.

"Managin'," Goodbid says honestly as he shakily steps through the door. Just like the last two times, the door slams behind them, still causing Goodbid to jump a foot in the air. "Al-alright," he sputters. "Walk forward?"

"Yeah, this hallway's longer than the last one," Glib says. They settle back into a comfortable silence as Goodbid slowly walks forward.

Every slight noise makes his skin crawl. He hates being blind. He would go as far as to say that he despises being left to wander in the dark more than he hates ghosts. He shakes his head slightly. Now is not the time to start thinking about ghosts. In order to keep his mind from wandering too far off track, he starts counting his steps.

He gets to two hundred-thirty-six steps before Glib stops him.

"The door is in front of you, remember this one leads into a staircase," Glib warns. Goodbid nods slowly as he reaches down and grabs the nob.

He can do this.

He twists the nob.

His grip begins to quake and shake as fear starts to settle in his bones again.

"Glib, I can't-" he says, tears welling up in his eyes. "I don't think I can do it."

"Goodbid, you'll have to do it eventually. Why prolong the inevitable?" Glib says rationally.

"Because it'll kill me!" Goodbid snaps. His hands are shaking worse, and he can feel hot tears streak down his face.

"No, it won't," Glib says dismissively. "Everyone is right outside, relying on us to get this over with."

Damn Glib and him using Goodbid's weaknesses against him.

"Damn you, frog man!" Goodbid hisses as he opens the door. And so what if he cries as he climbs the stairs? Or if by the time he reaches the top, where he can see the bridge and the dancing flames of the torches, he's shaking worse than a leaf in the wind? Glib's the only one there to see him, and he's not above blackmailing Glib into silence.

"Bid, we are almost there, just go out onto the bridge and stop in the middle," Glib says comfortingly.

"Uh huh," Goodbid nods as he takes slow steps across the creaking metal. It feels like it takes him a thousand years to get to the center of the bridge. "Now what?" he asks around his thick tears.

"We wait, I guess," Glib says, his hand fisting the fabric of Goodbid's shirt. "Last time we were looking at the clock for a few minutes before the- before it came," Glib says, censoring himself for Goodbid's sake.

Goodbid nods and forces his eyes to focus on the clock's face because something about it seems new, but he can't place what feels so different.

The picture is the same as it was before. A flower field with a tree in the corner. The flowers are in a beautiful bloom and the elf boy sits under the tree braiding flowers together into a crown as he hides from the hot sun. The birds almost look like they are flying across the sky as the fire's light dances across it. The glass behind the wall shows the sky but provides no light. The sky is bright and dotted with very few clouds, making the day bright and beautiful, perfect for a day at the park.

Goodbid had almost calmed himself completely when a screech sounds from behind him.

"Shit!" He screams when both he and Glib are picked up and slammed into the clock for the second time. He was better prepared, but it still hurts. He crashes to the floor. His vision dances with black dots as he tries and fails to get off the ground. He can see Glib fighting the banshee, blood dripping down his face, but he can't help him. He weakly reaches for him before collapsing into the darkness.

Suddenly he is standing in a flower field, the warm sun bearing down on him. The flowers and grass dance and sway under his feet and over head he hears birds singing.

"Hi there," a boy's voice calls from behind him. Goodbid spins on his heels, readying a spell only to stop when he sees a familiar face sitting under an old tree, making a flower crown. "Remember me?" He asks lightly.

"What the hell is goin' on?" Goodbid demands as he cautiously approaches the elf.

"You are knocked out and the frog man is fighting my sister. I saw my opportunity, so I took it and brought you in here so we could chat for a minute," he explains calmly.

"What do you mean you brought me here?" Goodbid asks, stopping in front of the young man- no kid.

"My sister accidentally trapped me in here," he says, tightening the knots on his crown before setting it on his head. "So, I've been here a few years."

"Are you the one keeping us in this loop?" Goodbid asks, crouching down in front of him.

"Kind of? I'm not doing it on purpose anyway," the kid explains. "Want one?" He offers his crown to Goodbid.

"Uh, sure? And what do you mean you aren't doing it on purpose?" Goodbid asks. He sits down in front of the kid who starts gathering more flowers.

"I mean I'm not supposed to be in here, but I am. You weren't supposed to cause a loop, but you did. So, I can help you if you help me," he says calmly. "Oh, I'm Sayrn, by the way. I never got an adult name."

Goodbid feels his heart break at the simple statement. "I'm sorry," Goodbid says, feeling guilty for cutting this kid's life so short. He rarely takes contracts that have anything to do with kids. That rule probably wasn't in place when he took this hit.

Sayrn gives him a genuine smile. "It's fine, my crazy sister hired you to do it."

"Did you two not get a long?" Goodbid asks, picking at the grass absentmindedly.

"She loved me, but I was always afraid of her, especially after she became a warlock," Sayrn says as he tucks his hair behind his ear again. "That's why she hired you to kill me. She couldn't do it herself."

"Oh, I see," Goodbid says. He watches the kid make him a flower crown for a moment before slowly asking, "so how do I help you, so you'll help me?"

"Easy, in the middle of the room, there is a fancy looking rock," he says looking up at Goodbid for the first time. "Break it and kill my sister's ghost. The loop should end then. Here," he puts the crown around Goodbid's hat. "Now you'll wake up, you'll be in pain but remember this: break the rock, kill the banshee."

Before Goodbid can respond pain flares through his body and he opens his eyes to a dark room. He is laying on the ground, bleeding sluggishly. Gritting his teeth, he pulls himself to his feet and stumbles forward.

"You're alive?!" he hears someone, probably Canyon, shout, but he doesn't have time to respond. He has to find that rock.

An obvious battle rages over his head as he navigates the maze of cogs and gears before stumbling into a clearing under the bridge. In the center is a glistening crystal on a marble pedestal.

"Fancy indeed, kid," Goodbid mumbles. He coughs into his hand, bits of blood splattering onto his sleeve. He lifts his briefcase over his head before smashing it down onto the crystal with all his force. It shatters like fragile glass.

He hears the banshee shriek mournfully, but the pain washes numbly over him.

"Kill her! It'll break the loop! Kill her!" He yells, praying someone is still there to hear him. His vision dances with spots of color and he sways on his feet. The banshee shrieks in pain swiftly followed by cheers. With a smirk he lets the pain knock him back out.

The last thing he sees before everything fades to black is the clock's face. A beautiful flower field, swaying in the wind, and a tree with birds on the branches. But under the tree, there is no elf boy.

*

When Goodbid comes to in his bed, he almost throws a righteous fit. Like hell was he going to do that to himself a second time! But before he can work up his temper, he feels bandages wrapping his torso.

"Oh, good! You're awake!" Prophis says, sitting down the book he was reading. "We were starting to get worried."

"Did it work?" Goodbid asks hoarsely.

"Yes, it is the twenty-seventh," Prophis says as he brings Goodbid a glass of water. "Drink."

Goodbid takes it with a grateful smile and downs it in two gulps.

"How did you know that would work?" Prophis asks as he takes the glasses back. "Breaking that rock."

"The kid in the clock told me."

"What?"

Goodbid laughs at Prophis' confused expression. "Yeah, the lady's brother's soul, whose name was Sayrn by the way, got trapped in the clock. He told me if I broke the rock under the bridge and killed the banshee the loop would end. Oh, and he made me a flower crown," Goodbid says with a weak smile.

"Oh, that explains the weird flower pattern on your hat," Prophis says as he picks up the hat and gives it to him. Goodbid inspects his hat and sure enough around the hat is a faint flower pattern, like it was painted on.

"Well, I'll be damned," Goodbid laughs.

"Indeed," Prophis says with a soft smile. "Oh, I should probably tell the others you are awake." Prophis leaves the room, and a few moments later there are several thumping feet before his door is thrown open and S.G. launches through the door, followed by an equally enthusiastic Canyon, and a much calmer Glib.

"You did it!" S.G. shouts, throwing her arms around Goodbid and pulling him into a death grip hug.

"S.G. don't rebreak his ribs!" Glib snaps at her, but her hold only loosens slightly.

"Well, you know what would be great for his ribs?" Canyon asks.

"I swear to God if you say a cuddle pile," Glib threatens only for Canyon to smile even wider.

"A cuddle pile on S.G.'s bed," he says smugly.

"He's been demanding a cuddle pile ever since we got back," S.G. explains while Canyon and Glib light into an argument.

"I'm willin' to do a cuddle pile," Goodbid says as he slowly gets out of bed. "As long as y'all mind my injuries."

"Deal!" Canyon says before running to S.G.'s room. Goodbid and the others follow behind, much slower.

They had just got settled on the bed when Prophis sticks his head in the door.

"Callisto and I are headed home, if you need us, you know how to contact us," he says quietly before disappearing back down the hall.

Goodbid smiles and lets his head fall back against the pillows. "Night, y'all."

"Night," Canyon purrs.

"Good night," S.G. says quietly.

Glib grunts, already mostly asleep.

It doesn't take long for sleep to take Goodbid, he is still extremely exhausted, after all. In his dream he is in a field with two other elves sitting in the distance. One is a woman, who looks vaguely familiar, having her hair braided with flowers, and the other is a young boy with a flower crown sitting on top of his long white-blonde hair.

He wakes up happy and calm but thinking one thing clearly.

Never fucking again.