#jennycalendar

[jamiemarsters]

Happy Birthday Robia LaMorte! I hope you have a wonderful day! ♥🎂🎁🎉♥ @RobiaScott #RobiaLaMorte @JamesMarstersOf

[no-where-new-hero]

🌹 this is so CUTE

for you celia i shall recommend a memory called empire by arkady martine, which is kind of the space opera version of baru cormorant. at the end of the day, i have to say i love baru more because i love my tragedy laid on with a trowel BUT memory is still a gorgeous book, and i do think it’s worth reading them both against each other to compare what these two incredibly smart authors have to say about colonialism and empire and the devastating effects on culture and people these things produce.

[rabbitmotifs]

💌 ?

i think i said so earlier, but i LOVEE your liveblogging. very funny and also very thoughtful that tends to either reaffirm my beliefs or makes me ponder something new (xander, for instance!) youre quite funny and i can sense a genuine joie de vivre through your daily blogging that makes me excited to see what comes next for you. youre also a FANTASTIC writer as ive read some of your calendiles fic, and ill add to everyone else saying youre a calendiles legend <3

[blackjackkent]

Ask prompt fill for @jennycalendar from this ask meme: Weather Idioms Jaheira - "foggy memory" This was actually a scene concept I intended to write during Rakha's playthrough but I forgor. :P So I'm backfilling it into Hector's story instead.

-----

Everything goes suddenly quiet. Sarevok's body falls, slowly, almost majestically, to land heavily on the stone floor.

Hector breathes out heavily, his bloodstained fists dropping to his sides. Thank the gods, he thinks wearily. It's over. 

He truly hadn't been entirely sure they were going to win this one. Whatever he'd expected to find in the Bhaalist tribunal hall, it wasn't the face of this warlord out of history. Sarevok was supposed to be dead, but for a dead man, he did a creditable job of nearly tearing them all apart. 

But they won. And now he is dead again, for certain this time.

“Is everyone all right?” he asks, his voice ragged with exhaustion. 

“I'll live, Soldier,” Karlach answers, equally weary. “But I think you'd better see to--” 

“Jaheira!” Minsc - heedless of the blood flowing freely from a gash in his forehead - crashes across the blood-soaked hall, knocking over the chairs that held Amelyssan and the others in his haste to get to the wounded panther crouched at the base of the wall. 

The panther roars weakly, then groans as its body twists and wrenches backwards involuntarily. The wildshape dissipates from Jaheira's body, and it seems to Hector a more violent process than usual - her limbs elongating, reddened claws receding, her back twisting into its normal position over her hips. As she moves, the ragged wound Sarevok carved into her twists and ripples, blossoming into an angry red smear along the side of her torso. 

“Stlarning…hells…” she mumbles vaguely, and pitches over onto the bloodstained floor.

Minsc falls to his knees at her side as Hector approaches behind him. Jaheira peers up at them, but she is pale with bloodloss and her eyes seem unable to focus properly, drifting to a point between them on the far wall. 

“Did we do it?” she mumbles unsteadily. “Sarevok… is he…”

“He is dead,” Minsc says earnestly, taking Jaheira's hand in one of his. “The foul fiend shall has taken our blades and our boots for the last time.”

Jaheira groans. “Good. Good… I knew…” Her voice is a little slurred. “I knew Caden could defeat him… I did not doubt…“

Minsc's brow furrow with confusion. “Caden?” he says, puzzled. 

Jaheira stirs weakly, trying to look around. “Where is he? And Khalid…”

Minsc looks up as Hector crouches next to them, his expression deeply troubled. Hector can read the panicked confusion in the berserker's eyes - and the fear of trying to explain that neither of the men Jaheira is looking for are here. 

Hector gives him a slight, sad smile. “Shock from the bloodloss, I think,” he says in a low voice. Blue light pulses around his hand with one of the few healing spells he knows. “Jaheira… look at me. Do you know where you are?” 

Jaheira rolls her head slowly to the side and peers up at him. The healing spell rolls across her body, sealing up the wound, stemming the bleeding, quelling the fog muffling her memory. 

And he can see the moment when the realization hits, the clarity of recollection, drawing her back to this moment and away from another battle a hundred years before - when Sarevok fell for the first time at the hands of Caden of Candlekeep, when Jaheira was a younger woman and her husband still lived. 

It is, he suspects, a much bleaker present that she wakes to, and something twists in his chest seeing the flash of grief that accompanies the realization. 

But then it passes, locked away at once. “Of course. Hector,” she says, and smiles weakly at him. “Forgive me. I… was not thinking straight.”

“I can't imagine why.” He rests a hand gently on her shoulder. “Can you sit up?”

She does so, carefully, wincing at the movement, but shakes her head at him sharply. “It is all right, Hector. A moment, and I will heal myself. See to the others.”

“Jaheira--” 

“See to the others. Please.” She smiles again, more firmly this time. “Do not worry for me, Hector. I am… I am fine.”

[smallnico]

22 thru 25 for the oc asks 👀

thanks so much for asking!! >:3

Fuck it, OC brain rot won. Get ready for the Secret Ask List 1) Does your OC have a voice claim, if so who? 2) Who's your OCs best friend?

22) Fight or Flight? Are they a lover or a fighter?

very much fight. esper may be a redeemed durge but they do love having the opportunity to enact violence on their problems if they can't eliminate them in some other way. they can tend to freeze up too if something really catches them off-guard and they can't decide whether fighting is a good idea.

they're also kind of both! as said, they love to fight, but they prefer to cultivate love if they can.

23) Is your OC reliable? Can I call them up at two in the morning if I have a flat tire?

absofuckinglutely they are, but only if they like you. esper will go to Great lengths to serve people they like and care about. they're a very devoted and reliable friend. besides, they probably weren't sleeping at two in the morning anyway.

24) Can they play any instruments? If so, what do they play?

yep! #bardlife. esper plays the lyre, the lute, and the vazhan-do, but they like the lyre the most. they also sing and you can always catch them humming to themself or playing with things that make interesting sounds, like chimes or water glasses.

25) Are they the kind of person who can't resist a good song? Can I catch your OC singing to themselves while they do the dishes?

they don't sing to themself so much as they hum, but they are constantly dancing and making music in little ways. they like to harmonize with and move along with the sounds they hear in their environment. they'd be making the act of washing dishes Into music.

[twd-podcast]

Our Fall Plans vs the Delta Variant. #wearesosorry #ithadtobedone #giles #rupertgiles #jennycalendar #angelus #buffy #btvs #buffythevampireslayer #podcast #podcasts #podernfamily #podcastrecommemdations https://www.instagram.com/p/CSm3RcAl2Hf/?utm_medium=tumblr

[jackalopingintothevoid]

ripper au: defending them in arguments?

It was a familiar situation, but one Xander had hoped to avoid. Things had been so nice, hanging out with Willow but also with Buffy and Jenny, and getting to pal it up with Ripper The Coolest Dude. No one talked about parents (except Buffy, but her mom was just a normal mom who did normal mom things like bug her daughter for staying out late) and things were kinda nice when there wasn’t a doom-filled prophecy coming true, and even when there was there was the relief and the joy when they averted it.

Somehow, this felt more like the world was ending than any actual apocalypse had.

Xander was tuning out the words. He was surprisingly more upset that Ripper had to see this than he could be by anything his dad said, which didn’t actually make it better.

It was his own fault, really. He’d gotten so caught up in Ripper telling him about this one time he stole a car and ran over a Grappler demon (who had withered faces and huge tusks and hit like trucks but were really super dumb, Ripper said) that he hadn’t realised they’d walked all the way to his parents’ house.

And his dad was drunk.

“What the fuck?”

Oh, no.

Ripper had been just out of Xander’s dad’s line of sight, but rather then ducking his head and quietly leaving he’d stepped closer and was talking why was he talking?

“Who the f–”

“No. No, you don’t get to ask that. Who the fuck are you!?” Xander frantically tried to get Ripper’s attention, but the guy was livid and didn’t notice at all. Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God.

His dad’s chest heaved, his face red with alcohol and rage, and his eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head. “’M his fffffather you fffuckin’–”

“Where the fuck d'you get off, talkin’ to Xander like that?” Ripper was being absolutely terrifying, treating Xander’s dad like your run-of-graveyard vampire; getting up in his business with no sign of fear. Xander couldn’t breathe. Oh God, please don’t let this happen!

But it was happening, and Xander couldn’t tear his eyes away. His dad was on the verge of snapping and for once it wasn’t at him, but this was so much worse. His dad lurched forwards in his drunken fury, the air was still even as the sickening thud of a fist colliding with a face sounded through the night.

Another thud– a body hitting the ground like a sack of bricks.

Staring in abject shock, Xander couldn’t move at all, even as a hand closed around his arm.

“Hey,” Ripper started, more gently than Xander had ever heard him, “you should go get your stuff. ‘E’s not gonna be any more chipper when ‘e wakes up and I think Buffy might pout if I make him ‘disappear’. Softest Slayer I ever met, bein’ so down on justified murder.”

Xander’d thought Buffy was the only Slayer Ripper had met, but he just nodded and ran indoors. He ghosted his mom, thundering straight up the stairs with his heart pounding just as hard, and grabbed his emergency bag from beneath the bed– then stopped, and scooped up a few more things because he could.

His dad was still out cold, and Ripper was still there.

“C’mon, Xanathar.” Ripper reached out again, this time slinging his arm round Xander’s shoulder, and his heart leapt at that as much as it did the D&D reference. “Been needin’ a roommate.”

[no-where-new-hero]

💌

i love how we're on such similar brainwaves at all times about stuff (especially willow and jenny and giles)! i love that you're kind of my echo weirdly displaced in time, and i wonder, if we ever were to meet, if one of us would spontaneously combust like matter and anti-matter. (that said i WOULD love to meet sometime! combustion risk nonwithstanding!) i also love your little "dairy" posts; you romanticize life in a very realistic way and have genuine joy about it despite the struggles!