#companion squared: round 1

[companion-showdown]

Who is your Favourite Companion to a Companion?

TOURNAMENT MASTERPOST

[frostsinth]

Your Heart's Got Teeth - Pt. 3

Part 1|2 - Masterlist

Was going to post this tomorrow, but just finished a final read-through and wanted to get it up.

Let me know what you think! Hope you enjoy.

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“Huntress! HUNTRESS!” Came the fearful call.

I dropped the stones I had been attempting to pile out of the way with a resounding clatter. My heart leaping into my chest as I sprung forward. Jumping over the rubble and back to the street as the older matron came running up to me breathlessly. A few children half tangled in her skirts.

“What is it? What’s happened?” I demanded.

She glanced frantically over her shoulder. “The orcs are coming! Into the square! You must come inside, quickly!”

I shoved past her instead, ignoring her grabbing hands. Half pushing her towards the doorway as I moved around them. Not even bothering with words even as she frantically tried to convince me otherwise. I was already almost sprinting around the corner to the square.

The reason for her urgency quickly became apparent as I rounded the corner. The village square was the largest open area inside the walls. Once, there had been a well and tree in its center. Now there was a pile of rubble that skittered out onto the surrounding cobblestones. The buildings and houses that remained around the parameter had been commandeered for our shelters, being that the orcs wanted us all kept close, and the square was now our only gathering place. Where all those remaining gathered when the sun was up to whisper and worry and glance over their shoulders while the children picked about the stones of their former childhood forlornly.

Now there were orcs. A great number of them, perhaps almost a dozen, male and female alike. Armor and weapon clad. They had never bothered venturing into the square before. Always prowling around the streets outside. I was rather certain the last time one had set foot here was the night of the attack. I could almost smell the burning fires and hear the crash of the great tree’s branches snapping off one by one as the blaze consumed it. I did not imagine it boded well for them to be here once more.

One of the hulking beasts caught sight of me, the only human currently not cowering behind a door, and she grunted. Jabbing her arm into one of her companions and pointing. Perhaps the leader, based upon the way the others cleared space as he turned his attention at the jab and stomped over to me. I readied myself to run, thinking I might be able to have them give chase if I ran out of the square. Past their patrol. Lead them away from the others, and hope they had half a brain to take the opportunity.

I jumped as a large burlap sack landed at my feet instead. I glanced at it in surprise, then back at the orc. He watched me for a moment, then grunted. Turning over his shoulder and gesturing to the others. One by one they approached the buildings and tossed an equally large sack towards the doorways.

I grabbed the edge of the sack, tearing it open. Fearing there would be explosives, or body parts, or…

“Food.” Growled the leader. He brought his fingers to his mouth and tapped them to his lips. “Eat.”

I stared at him dumbfounded. Then back down at the bag. Which was filled with rolls of bread and dried meat. The orcs seemed to wait for a moment, looking around warily. The leader watched me, then shrugged. Giving a shout and waving the others out.

“Eat.” He told me again, tapping his fingers to his lips. Then turned and followed the others out of the square once more.

It took a few minutes for the doors to slowly creak open. For fearful eyes to peer around their edges. I watched, then looked back down at the contents of the bag. Blinking stupidly.

���… What is it?” came a fearful voice from the nearest door.

I glanced at the old man there, then back down at the bag. I almost laughed.

“Food.” I told him, holding open the sack for him to see. His eyes widened.

“Food??” He said, much more loudly than I, and I heard the word echoing around the square.

The clattering of feet on stones filled the air as more and more villagers poured out of the buildings. Retrieving the bags and opening them to find the same things I had. A few distrustful shouts pierced the growing excitement, and I noticed the older woman with her orphans slowly approach. Her expression halfway between hopeful and afraid.

“It’s a trap!” The old man who had spoken first proclaimed, waving one shaking hand about to urge the square to still. “Don’t touch it! It must be poisoned.”

Another rising chatter, and I sighed, reaching into the sack I held. Pulling out a piece of jerky. Turning it this way and that. Then swallowing my nerve and taking a solid bite. Ignoring the gasps that filled the air in the wake of my action.

“Tastes fine.” I mused through the mouthful, looking back down at it. Turning and passing the bag to the older woman behind me. “Pace yourselves,” I recommended, loud enough for all to hear, “Have a little first and see how it sits. Save the rest.”

I chose to duck out down one of the remaining side streets as the villagers suddenly all dove for the sacks. Each eagerly and greedily pulling out items. Some heeded my warning and only took a bite or two. Others ate a whole bread roll before looking up to the heavens in relief. I wandered down the nearest alley, taking another bite of the jerky, my head racing with the implications of bags of food literally appearing on our doorstep. But there were far too many people crowding the square right now for my liking. I felt a stab of guilt again, and stared down at the food in my hand. A patter of little feet on stones announced another’s approach, and I turned towards it. Just in time as a little child skirted past me, and I grabbed their shoulder. Passing them the jerky and nodding towards the square.

“There’s more. Tell any of the others hiding too.” I told her, and her eyes went wide before she nodded eagerly.

I watched her dart off, sighing a little. Reaching up to rub at the back of my neck.

“Not hungry?”

I didn’t jump at the voice, though I certainly hadn’t heard him approach. I turned to see Izu’lemi smiling, leaning against a nearby wall. Obviously he was stealthier than I had initially thought. Though I shouldn’t have been surprised to see him. Much as I tried to avoid him, he seemed to have a knack for hunting me down. It had been at least a few days since I had last seen him this time, and I considered him for a moment.

“You did this.” I reasoned, but he shook his head.

“My dad did. Told me hostages are no good to us if they are dead.”

I felt myself bristle, glaring down at the ground. “Feeding the pigs their slop before slaughter.” I accused.

Izu’lemi leapt over, patting the air between us. “It’s not like that.” He tried to reassure me. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I sighed, shaking my head a little. Too tired to point out his small minded thinking.

“This will only last a day or two.” I pointed out. “What comes after that? Who is responsible for keeping the livestock fed?”

I saw him tilt his head. “I don’t know. This is from our reserves, but we have plenty!”

“Do you? Enough for the whole winter?” I asked. “You so sure your people will want to feed their prisoners once the first storms hit?”

Izu’lemi looked over my shoulder. “… I don’t know. I’ve never been in a war camp before. Not for this long anyway.” He reached up and thumbed at his lip. “Some food comes from caravans, grain and such, some we make here. Maybe your people could make some too.”

I scoffed a little. “We don’t have the resources.” I reminded him. “And we’re not allowed to leave the center of town.”

He seemed to think about that for a moment. “You need to speak to my father.” He reasoned. “Explain that to him.”

“He won’t listen to me.”

“He’ll listen to me.” He assured me, then grabbed my arm. “Come on!”

“Izu’lemi, wait!” I tried to protest, but he was already half dragging me down the street.

I was suddenly reminded that even though he was much younger than me, he was bigger. And apparently stronger. Though he seemed completely oblivious to that fact. Rather than potentially dislocate my shoulder, I allowed him to lead me up the hill to the orc camp without resisting.

They hadn’t commandeered any of our buildings like the soldiers had, instead choosing to set up their big, rounded tents along the hill that bordered the eastern side of the village. It’s open fields had been used for communal grazing, but now it was a small city in and of itself with all the individual tents that filled one lazy slope. Between the tents were campfires, and around those fires were orcs. Dozens and dozens of orcs. I imagined there may have been hundreds by now, but I avoided counting them. Feeling a lump twist in my throat as Izu’lemi dragged me up the hill. No one had been up here since the initial attack, and I found myself suddenly filled with a strange fear. As if my presence would cement this into a more permanent reality, rather than a distant horror. I focused on the ground at my feet to avoid drawing undue attention to myself. Izu’lemi appeared oblivious to my discomfort.

On we went, past suspicious glances and angry snorts. To the biggest, thickest tent of all near the great meeting hall that had been commandeered as a jailhouse for the living able bodied men of the village. I glanced at the big stone and wood building, lingering back a step before Izu’lemi pulled me on. Feeling a pit of anxiety forming in my stomach as he ducked into the tent.

A spattering of orcish hit my ears first, then an angry growl as I fully entered. I looked over to find Jou’kiel sitting in the tent near a small fire with a mug in hand. A busty female orc currently rubbing his shoulders. He fixed me with an irritated scowl, pushing her hands off as Izu’lemi dragged me to the center of the tent. I wondered briefly, feeling my anxiety spike even more, if this was Izu’lemi’s mother. But given the boy didn’t even glance at her, I quickly dismissed that notion, and my own foolishness for caring. She was tall, though not nearly so tall as the boy’s father, and had long, thick black dreads with hints of sun-bleached copper at the tips. She cocked her head to one side, then glanced at Jou’kiel almost questioningly.

Out from scrutiny, I took the opportunity to look around the tent. It was much warmer than outside. As soon as we had stepped in, I felt the comforting warmth of the fire. The tent was probably a dozen feet or more around, with thick, tanned hides like patchwork stitched up its sides. The center was taken up by a fire pit and cooking pot, and the space smelled comfortingly of wood smoke. Aside from the fire and pot, there were a half dozen or so upturned logs. Most had things on them; bits of armor, stacks of furs, rolls of paper and sticks of charcoal. There was a particularly large bundle of furs at one side of the tent that I imagined was a bed. It looked a bit like a nest, with a slight depression in the center and a pitcher and mug ready at its edge. There were chests aside from the bed, and a few weapons and other larger items cluttering the parameter of the tent. Otherwise, the tent was open, and it was easy enough to move around what there was as we entered.

It wasn’t a far stretch of the imagination to realize this was Jou’kiel’s personal tent. His private tent, not one intended for visitors. A point which I assumed was being made, considering the growing agitation in his tones.

More orcish was exchanged between father and son, and Jou’kiel waved the woman away. She peered at me again curiously as she left, but otherwise didn’t seem inclined to argue. They might not have heard her anyways, as their volume was fast growing with each subsequent exchange.

“You need to speak to her.” Izu’lemi replied to his father finally, pointedly speaking in Common.

Jou’kiel snorted, shaking his head and leaning back on the stump. Swirling the contents of his cup and licking his bottom lip. Looking us both up and down for a long moment with a dark glower on his face.

“I don’t need to do anything.” He growled, reluctantly switching to Common as well. “I’ve already sent food. Wood is being gathered.” He waved his free hand. “Take her back to the others, Izu. Humans are to be kept in the center of the village.”

“The food will only last them a day or two!” He argued. “You need to give them more.”

“We don’t need your food.” I interjected before his father could answer.

Both looked at me in surprise, then the older orc scowled. “Too good for our food?” He said, his tones and eyes dark, “Too proud to accept help from an orc?”

“We don’t need your food.” I repeated. “We need to be able to gather our own.”

He scoffed, leaning forward with one elbow on each knee. Shaking his wild mane. “You have such idle fantasies of war.”

“Inu’u.” Izu hissed, sounding almost scolding but mostly irritated.

I put my hands on my hips, returning his scowl. “How long can you feed us all? How many men will you ask to chop wood each day?” I asked. “How long until they refuse to feed your prisoners anymore?”

The pair exchanged a look, but the older orc didn’t answer. Thinking it over for a moment, looking down at the drink in his hand.

“And you have a better option? We should let you all go I suppose?” He growled.

“Let us leave the village.” I countered again. “To hunt for ourselves. To gather wood, and materials to patch walls and roofs.”

“The manpower to guard-”

“Would be no more than what you are expending now in menial labor.” I interrupted, leaving him huffing in irritation. “You said so yourself. The orcs you brought with you are more warriors than homemakers. How long will they be content with the being the latter for humans?”

He swirled his cup again, thinking it over. His brow scrunched. Then he grumbled, taking another sip.

“I’m not in the mood for this.”

“Inu’u!” His son walked over, shoving him lightly. “You have to-”

“Enough,” He snapped, then spoke briefly to him in orcish, gesturing with one hand angrily.

Izu’lemi’s brow scrunched. He started to reply, then stopped, glancing at me. “Just hear her out!” He replied in Common instead.

Jou’kiel gritted his teeth, refusing to look at me.

“Izu, I am tired. It is late. Just-”

“This is important!” The younger orc even went so far as to stomp one foot. “You are always telling me to think ahead, to take responsibility! I’m-”

“THIS?? This is not your responsibility.” Jou’kiel snapped loudly, standing abruptly. “She is not your responsibility!”

“She’s to be my mate.” He argued, not backing down even as his father towered over him. “If you have no honor-”

“Mind how you speak to me.” The older orc growled.

“But she’s right!” Izu’lemi said, changing tactics. “The warriors will-”

His father growled, cutting him off. “Enough.”

“Inu’u, I-”

“I said ENOUGH, Izu.” He practically roared, slamming his mug down on the stump behind him. “I am tired. I have more important things. Take her back to the village.”

I tried not to stare during the exchange, feeling very out of place and unsure what to do with myself. Now, at the older orc’s formal dismissal, I took a step towards the tent flap. More than happy to be gone from that place. Izu’lemi’s lip began dangerously large, and he crossed his arms over his chest.

“How come everything I want to do is unimportant?” He muttered angrily after a few tense moments of silence. “… And if this is not my responsibility, then it’s yours.”

Jou’kiel groaned, reaching up two fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose. Resting the other hand on his hip and letting out a hefty sigh. A few more moments, and he tossed up his hands. Shaking his wild mane of hair and returning to his stump with an angry grunt.

“Fine! Fine. I’ll hear her out.” He swept up his drink and plopped down unceremoniously. “But I’m drinking while I do.”

“You won’t regret it!” His son almost bounced on his toes in his sudden excitement, beckoning me deeper into the tent. “I really think she’s right-”

“Izu, leave.”

“But-”

He waved a hand, silencing the younger orc. “I don’t need both of you squawking at me. I’ll hear her out. Alone.” The boy looked like he was going to say more, but he growled loudly before he could. “Now, Izu. That’s the condition if you want this so badly.”

The younger orc pouted, but did as he was told. Sparing me a small wink of encouragement as he did. The tent fell quiet after he left, only the crackle of the fire filling it for a few breaths.

Jou’kiel sighed heavily. “Why is it always you?” He grumbled.

“Why did it have to be you?” I shot back agitatedly.

That made his lips curl into a semblance of a smile at the corners. He looked down at his cup, his brow still furrowed. Then sighed quietly. Reaching over and dragging a laden stump closer to the fire. Shoving the armor sitting on it to the floor. Kicking it out of the way. He Ignored the ensuing clatter and crash and patted the stump pointedly instead. I shook my head, and he grunted again.

“Sit.” He ordered, his expression growing a bit dark at my delay.

I considered it for a moment longer, but then slowly made my way over. Sitting in the indicated spot. Realizing it was closer to him than I had originally thought, seeing how our knees almost brushed. I jerked a bit as a mug of ale was pushed into my palm. The foam splashing over the top and down onto my wrist. That made him chuckle, and I shot him another scowl as I switched the over sized mug to the other hand and shook the wet one free.

“Do you speak for your people?”

I thought about that for a moment, my movement slowing. Both hands coming around to cup the mug.

“… I’m not their leader.” I told him. “I didn’t even live in the village before the soldiers came. But I know what they need. I know what they are thinking.”

He grunted, taking a deep, slow sip of his own ale. “Where did you live, if not the village?”

“Why does it matter?” I bristled. And he shrugged.

“It doesn’t. Can you speak for them?”

“I’m not-”

“I didn’t ask if you were their leader.” His grunt moved to a growl. “I ask if you can speak for them.”

“… Yes.”

A snort this time. “Good. Since you seem to think you know everything. What do you propose?”

I tried not to scowl, thumbing the edge of the mug. “… Let us leave the village.”

“To hunt.”

I nodded. “To gather wood, and other supplies. To build our stores.” I stared down at the mug in my hands. “Winter snows are not far, and with things the way they are, I don’t see the season ending the same way it started.”

There was a heavy rumbling sound that vibrated from somewhere deep in his chest. Slowly he leaned forward, placing one elbow on either knee. Thumbing at his thick bottom lip then taking a deep draw of the thick ale. A bit of foam lingered at the corner of his mouth once he finished, and his over sized tongue came out to lick it away. I tried not to stare. Tried not to wonder what those tusks were like. Were they sharp? Hard but smooth like teeth or textured like old bone? Did they feel heavy or was he used to it? Surely there were more muscles supporting them, given the squareness of his massive jaw. The thickness of his neck. My eyes trailed down, following to his collarbones, tracing over his broad shoulders and muscled chest. I almost jumped as he suddenly shifted, leaning closer to me.

“Drink.” He growled, then reached over to bring the tips of his fingers beneath the ale. Pushing it up lightly as if to guide it to my lips.

I scoffed, shifting the drink to one hand and shoving his huge forearm away with the other. He curled his lip back from his teeth, then snorted.

“Too good for orcish ale?” He asked. I shot him another bitter look, and he gave another snort in response. “Drink. My hospitality demands it.”

I gritted my teeth and rolled my eyes a bit. But did as he bid. Bringing the mug to my lips. My nostrils flared briefly before I downed a fair amount in a few deep draws. It was very strong, with a thick, wheaty taste. But not bad, and pleasantly warm. Instantly staving off the chill that had started to settle in my bones which the heat of the fire could not touch. I heard the rumbling sound of his approval and lowered the lip once more.

“Happy?” I grumbled, and jerked as he poured more ale sloppily into the mug, some splashing over the edge. Refilling what I had just drank and then some.

“No.” He replaced the pitcher on the floor by his boot, taking another swig from his own drink. “You irritate me.”

I took a smaller sip, leery of him attempting to fill it again should it present with available space. Shaking my head a little as its warm fingers slipped into my gut and wrapped themselves around me. I was already going to reek of the stuff when I left.

“Forgive me if my imprisonment does not amuse you.” I muttered.

“That.” He jabbed his finger at my shoulder and I almost spilled more of the ale across my lap. “That is irritating.”

“Oh, many pardons, your high and mightiness.” I shot back angrily, swatting away the finger he had already withdrawn. “I’ll be sure to hold my tongue in your presence.”

He took another deep draw from his mug, then refilled it. Shaking his head.

“Very irritating.” He grumbled. “Not sure how you live with it.”

“Feel free to make sure you don’t need to.”

Another grunt, and he shook his head again. The beads chiming in his hair as he did.

“Why should I care?” He half-grunted. “Why should I give your people these freedoms?”

I smashed the mug down on a smaller stump near me. Having barely resisted the urge to throw it straight into his face. He looked at me in surprise at the sound, and I stood angrily.

“If you need to be convinced to give two shits about innocent lives under your charge, then you are already more of a monster than I thought.” I snapped.

His hand shot out as I moved to stomp away. Catching my arm. Tugging me over to him as easily as plucking a flower from a vase. I wriggled in his grasp, scowling at him.

“Let me go.”

He squeezed my wrist a bit tighter. “I am no monster.”

“You sound like one.”

Another tug, and he had me face to face with him. Glowering at me.

“I want to know why you think I should care.” He said, his voice quiet but firm. “That speaks nothing to whether or not I do. I am your warden, not a nursemaid. Explain it to me.”

“I’m not here to provide morality lessons.” I shot back. “We need food. We need clothing. We need materials to repair our buildings and wood to keep our fires. If you don’t know why you should care, then I can’t help you.”

I still wriggled in his grasp, but he held me firmly in place. Even going so far as to lift the mug of ale with his free hand and take a slow sip. All the while careful to hold my gaze with his. Studying my face. I felt the burning desire to smack his.

“You would flee.” He reasoned.

“The nearest village is a week away at least,” I replied, “In good conditions. The frosts come every night already, do you think anyone would be stupid enough to freeze to death trying to go anywhere right now?” I twisted again, ignoring the pain as I tried to free myself. “We’re just as likely to freeze to death here, why go hunting for it elsewhere?”

“It is winter.” He reminded me, not even seeming to register my continued struggle against his grip. “There would be no game for hunting. Excuses.”

“There is a herd that stays the winter.” I countered. “I know where they keep to. I’ve brought more than enough back in a single day hunting them than some farmers make in a month.”

He considered me, one brow raising up. “You hunt?”

I scowled back at him. “What, women can’t hunt??”

A shrug this time. “Women can hunt.” He practically hoisted me off my feet by my wrist, stretching me out before his inspection. “Not you. You are tiny. Too weak to hunt.”

The resounding echo of the slap against the broadside of his cheek rang in the silence of the tent. He jerked in surprise, then a growl formed in his throat. Slowly, he stood, towering over me. Twisting my wrist painfully around my back. Almost pining me against him. Forcing me to crane my neck all the way back to hold his eye or otherwise have my face buried in his solid chest. He glowered at me, his lips curled back in a silent snarl, his braids draping around us like a black curtain.

“Don’t test me.” He warned.

“Don’t insult me.” I shot back.

A sneer now. “So very irritating.”

I matched his, twisting in his grasp and hiding the wince of pain as I did. “So very arrogant.”

He finally tossed me back a step, growling again and shaking his head. I brought my wrist around to rub at it. Swallowing the tears in my throat and shaking my own head. He half turned, looking around the tent. Reaching out and picking up the pitcher to refill his mug. Taking a slow sip, as if to calm himself.

“Sit.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

He snorted. “Maybe later.” He turned back to me, then gently shoved my shoulder. “Sit. You bear me, I’ll bear you.”

“Why should I?”

“Because. We can do something here. For both our people.” He nudged my shoulder with the back of his hand again. “And if we don’t talk now, Izu will just make us do it all again later. Sit.”

I did sit slowly, watching him down half his drink before plopping down so heavily the tent shook. He picked up the pitcher. Refilling his mug again.

“You’re drunk.” I accused bitterly.

He shrugged. “Not yet. But trying to be.” He leaned across me, bringing his bare neck and shoulder so close I could smell him. I tensed, but he merely scooped up my abandoned mug and put it back into my hands. “Join me, won’t you?”

I didn’t take the mug right away, and he kept it poised between my hands for a moment.

“Will you even remember anything you promised come morning?”

Another snort. “I don’t make promises.” He shook the cup a little, causing ale to once again splash over my hands. “I trust you’ll make sure to keep me honest either way.”

I shot him a bitter look, but took the mug. Leery of it being dumped on my lap entirely otherwise. He rumbled in approval, leaning back and taking another long draw. When he finished, he raised one bushy brow at me pointedly. I rolled my eyes, but took a sip. His hand came out to tilt the bottom up so gently I could have ignored it, but I obediently drank a bit more.

“Good?” He asked once I had lowered the mug and he had dropped his hand away.

“Waiting for you to seem more tolerable.” I replied. “Then I’ll let you know.”

He picked up the big pitcher and sloshed it for good measure. “We’d need much more ale.”

I sighed as he refilled the mug yet again, resisting the twitch of a smile at the corners of my mouth. Thumbing the edge of it and looking into the fire. Feeling my eyes swim and my legs quiver with exhaustion beneath my skirts. The ale certainly wasn’t helping.

“Free to leave the village.” He recalled, swirling his drink. “How would that work?”

“You’re the warden.” I said. “You figure it out.”

He gave a deep rumbling ‘hmmm’. “Patrols. Curfew.” He looked down at his drink for a moment, then took a deep sip. “Escorts.”

“We need chaperons to leave?” I scoffed. “Waiting for permission? You’ll make things worse, nurse resentments.”

Another ‘hmm’. “Longer excursions, hunts. Anything in eye line of the wall does not.”

I resisted the urge to sigh again, taking a little sip of the ale.

“Fine.”

He nudged me with the toe of his boot, and I shot him a dirty look. “That’s not much of a fight.”

“Does it matter?” I quipped. “It’s fine. I can hunt. The villagers can gather wood, mushrooms, maybe even berries and roots.” I stopped short, shaking my head. He didn’t need to know all that. The less he knew, the better.

A slow nod, a slower sip of his drink. “Anything else?”

“No. Can I leave now?”

He raised his mug, holding it out towards mine and clinking them together. “Why are you so eager to go back to the cold?”

“Better than sitting in your stink.” I grumbled, taking a small begrudging sip as he spoke.

“Right.” He said, his tones dark, his brow heavy. “Because I’m an orc.”

“No. Because you, personally, stink.” I assured him.

He looked at me in surprise, then barked out a laugh. Shaking his head in his good humor. “I must be drunk now. You are not this amusing.”

“Congratulations. Can I go now?”

He heaved a great sigh, swirling about his drink again. Silent for a long moment. I nursed a slow sip as he did. Shifting a little in my seat. Somewhat reluctant to leave the warmth of his tent despite my insistence.

“Leave Izu out of this, yes?”

“I’m not looking for him.” I said. “I make a point to try to avoid him. Somehow he always finds me.”

Another laugh, quieter this time. “He’s stubborn. He has his mind set on you.” I watched his big thumb trace around the edge of his mug as he slowly leaned forward again on his elbows. “I can’t seem to tear you free.”

I glanced at the tent flap, then back at him. He seemed… smaller almost. His shoulders bowed, his head dropped. Even with his heavy brow furrowed in troubled thought. For a moment, my thoughts strayed to the knife in my boot. Wondering briefly if I could overpower him. If his death would even change anything. I swallowed another sip of ale with my nerves. Dismissing the thought firmly.

“… Stop pushing.” I suggested at last. “It makes him dig in.”

He glanced at me out the corner of his eye. “I try not to. But… ever since his mother died-” He stopped short, catching himself, then glanced at me again. His expression turning sour. “… It doesn’t matter. Stay away from him.”

I hesitated, trying to push aside caring. Especially with the sharp edge his voice took now. Trying to will myself to stand and leave. While he was distracted and drunk. Before I got caught up again. Feeling a sear of guilt wondering if the villagers had any idea where I was, or had even noticed I was gone. But feeling another stab at the thought of leaving the idiot wallowing here in his own self pity. Recognizing the way he lashed out, the false anger… the endless ale.

I took another sip of my drink. Larger than the last.

“Keep him busy.” I offered. “Give him something else to throw himself into.”

I saw his copper yellow eyes flick back up to me. I sloshed my almost empty cup pointedly. Cocking one eyebrow at him. The corners of his mouth twitched, and he took up the pitcher to refill it. Stretching so close to do so our shoulders brushed and I found his cheek practically next to my mouth. My breath hitched, my nostrils flared. As soon as he leaned back I quickly doused myself in the ale once more. Trying to bury that strange little aside before I could notice it too much.

“You’re… not, right?” He asked after a long pause.

I glanced at him. “Not what? Psychic? No. Not psychic. Have no idea what you want.”

He snorted. “Not interested. In Izu.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I chided him. “I’m old enough to be his mother. He’s a kid. Kind, sweet, well-intentioned. But misguided, and stubborn.”

A small, fond smile formed on his thick lips. “That sounds like Izu.” He took a slow sip of his drink. “… Have you told him?”

“Multiple times.” I assured him. “Did I mention stubborn?”

“Might need to mention it twice.” He agreed, leaning over to click our mugs together.

Another sip. “Something in common with you after all.”

“Sweet?” He teased. I shoved his shoulder, and he laughed. “Ah, yes, kind then. You forgot handsome.” He rubbed his hand along his chin with a smirk. “He takes some of my good looks.”

“Perhaps you need a better mirror.” I replied.

“You look like you could use any mirror.” He shot back amiably. “Your hair is always a mess. And you’re covered in dirt.”

I scowled at him. “Being a prisoner doesn’t lend much time to worry about appearances.”

“Something tells me this was a previous ailment unaffected by our occupation.” He mused. Then laughed as I shoved him again, not having shifted even an inch beneath my force. “Nah, it suits you. Dirt and all.”

That had us falling into silence. Perhaps both a bit surprised. I stared down at my mug for a long portion of it. Then took a small sip of my drink.

“… I should go.”

He gave a slow nod. “It’s getting late.” He agreed quietly. Then slowly stood, placing his cup down on his seat. Picking up his big fur cloak. “I’ll walk you through the camp.”

The fires outside had died down, and I spared another guilty glance to the meeting house as we passed it. There was a gaggle of orcs congregating down the hill a ways, so Jou’kiel jerked his head and lead me down the back. There were fewer tents here, and no campfires I could see. It was mostly quiet, and I almost slipped on the frosted grass as we made our way down. One particularly steep portion I made sure to take my time, walking the edge and leaning into my weight as gravity bore down. Just as I reached the bottom I heard a loud thud that I could feel through my feet.

Not even a breath later I gave a soft shout of surprise as they were swept out from under me as something slid into be from behind.

I landed on something firm and warm, having knocked my head against it in my fall. I tried to settle my spinning head, groping about for more solid, familiar ground. As I propped myself up, I found myself eye to eye with a pair of copper ones.

“Lost my balance.” Jou’kiel mumbled pointlessly, considering he was now on his back, propped up on his elbows, with me draped across his torso.

“Obviously.” I replied, but couldn’t move. Stuck staring at him for a moment.

He didn’t move either, our faces inches away. My body rising and falling with each breath he took, which billowed around us in a soft, warm fog. I felt my heart skip and sputter in my chest, felt my breath catch.

A distant ‘woop’ of excitement from the camp had me crashing sharply back to my senses. I scrambled up, trying to touch as little of him as possible as I did. But having to plant my palms on his chest briefly to stand. Smoothing my hands down my skirts and letting out my breath in a huff. I felt him staring as I did.

“You’re an idiot.” I said.

A soft thud and a sigh, and I looked over at him in surprise. Finding him having dropped from his propped elbows. Laying completely on his back now, looking up at the sky.

“What the hell are you doing??”

He gestured towards the heavens. “Looking at the stars.”

I groaned. “Gods above, you are drunk.”

He held a hand straight out towards the sky. “Help me up.”

“You must be joking. I’d break my arm trying.”

His fingers wiggled. “Help me up.”

“You’re an idiot.” I told him again, walking over to reach for his hand. I gave another little shout as he yanked me down. My feet slipping out from under me. “What are you-???”

“Just look.” He insisted, pointing.

I did, curling at my waist to look up. Finding myself dwarfed by the massive heavens above. Filled with tiny, sparkling lights. I looked for a moment, then glanced at him. He shuffled off his cloak, spreading it over the frosted grass beside him. I scowled, but he still patted it with a stupid lop sided grin.

“Now I’m not sure who’s more an idiot,” I grumbled, slowly laying down perpendicular to him with my head and shoulders on his cloak, “Me or you.”

“Definitely you.” He assured me. Then he sighed, relaxing and his eyes drooping lazily. “I can’t remember the last time I looked at the stars.”

I followed his gaze, hesitating for a long moment. “Me either.” I agreed finally.

“Izu liked to lay in the grass and look at the stars when he was little.” He confided in me quietly, his words a bit slurred and rough, his eyes still hooded when I craned my neck to look over at him. “He never does anymore, but we used to spend hours looking up.”

I felt a sting of pain in my throat, and swallowed it. “… My brother did too.”

“What happened?”

I didn’t answer, gritting my teeth. Regretting letting that happy memory surface only to taint it with my sorrow.

“He died.” I said at last, barely above a whisper. “Five years ago now… He was… always sick. Always frail. But… He loved looking at the stars. Playing with children. Collecting stones…” I felt my voice break, and shook my head. “This is stupid.”

“Then it suits you.”

I moved to shove him, or perhaps smack him angrily, His hand caught my arm mid-motion. Then slid down to wrap around my wrist. Engulfing my hand in his. I was so surprised, I froze, craning my head back to look at him. Uncertain what to do beneath the warm of his touch.

“Izu’s mother was the sweet one.” He told me. “She showed him the stars. Showed him tadpoles in creeks and gave him pretty stones she found.” His thumb ran up and down my wrist. “When she died, I was… Izu was all that mattered.” He grunted, dropping my hand abruptly and bringing his up to rub at his face. “Still is.”

I rolled to my side, looking at him properly. Hesitating again, chewing on my cheek.

“You’re a good father.” I told him quietly.

He turned as well, craning his neck to look at me. Dropping his hands. Studying my face for a long time.

“You don’t know that.” He decided finally. “You can’t know that.”

“I don’t need to know you, to know you’re a good father.” I sighed, shaking my head and rolling to sit up. “Izu is a good kid. So I know he had a good father.” I rubbed at the back of my neck, a smirk spreading across my lips before I could help it. “Might be the only thing you are good at.”

He scoffed in amusement, rolling fully onto his side, then sitting up as well. His cloak slowly sliding out from behind me. Trailing along the bottom of my hips and lower back as it did. I glanced at him out the corner of my eyes, watching him lean over me. His big lips curled in a lopsided smirk.

“Careful,” He warned, “That was almost a compliment.”

“I retract it then.” I replied, and he gave a deep, quiet chuckle. It seemed to rumble in the air between us. I felt my breath hitch. Then I shook my head, shoving him angrily and standing up. “I’m freezing. Stop being an idiot and go back to your damn tent.” I turned as I spoke, making my way over to the cobblestone path at the foot of the hill. “You’ll be able to find it by the heavy stench of the ale you spilled everywhere.”

He gave a grunt, but didn’t say anything else. I stomped off to the nearest building, ducking around the corner as if I meant to go back to the town square as directed. But I lingered there for a moment, out of his sight. My heart racing in my chest, my breath shallow little plumes before me. I waited as long as I could stand, the minutes ticking past painfully slow. Then dared inch back to the corner, peeking around it.

Jou’kiel was still sitting in the cold grass. Staring up at the sky with his head craned all the way back and his shoulders slumped towards his lap. I almost sighed in exasperation. What was he doing?? Why hadn’t he left yet?

I shivered, wrapping my arms around me and watching him. Waiting. Last thing we needed was the idiot falling into a drunken stupor and freezing to death. No, for the sake of the villagers, better to make sure that he at least headed back up the hill. So I stayed, feeling the cold seep back into my bones, feeling the ale still blooming in my cheeks. Studying the older orc as he sat.

Even hunched as he was, he was still large. I wasn’t sure how he was warm enough, always bare chested. But if he was cold, he didn’t shiver or otherwise show it. His fur cloak draped only loosely about his broad shoulders and down his back. He had half crossed his massive legs, and I could make out the shape of his thighs through the furs wrapped there. They must have been bear, as they were thick and furry and each piece large enough to almost fully encompass his hips. For a moment, I wondered if he had hunted and killed the beasts himself. But I chided myself quietly. He was a prince. It wasn’t likely he did much of anything for himself. Spoiled, arrogant, bull-headed. I ticked off all his faults even as my eyes studied the square shape of his jaw, memorized the shape of his lips, trailed down each neatly woven braid, counted each bead and bone that stood in stark contrast to his raven black hair. Still feeling the shadow of his warm hand around mine.

I lost track of how long I stood there, feeling my toes go numb, watching him stare at the sky. Finally, he snorted, then shifted and rolled to his feet. Glancing around slowly. I ducked back behind the corner as he did, shivering and wondering if he had seen me. But the rumble of his steps as he turned to climb back up the hill had me daring to peek around again. Watching his retreating back.

Idiot. I thought to myself again, rubbing at my arms. Shivering again, then releasing a heavy sigh. It was going to be a long, cold night. But… maybe it would be the last one for a while…

UPDATE: part four Here

[whatgaviiformes]

Fic: Grannies - Part 4 (Finale)

Summary: Gordon's committed to the bit. The bit just happens to be an obnoxious amount of granny squares.

A/N- In the finale: warning for a bit of whump. Whole lotta love though. Words for this part come to 2K.

Part 1 here | Part 2 here | Part 3 here | AO3

Thank yous: craftyfam, patient readers, my yarn stash for inspiration, Kat for the read through and assuring me this was post ready. FFXIV I can't thank you because you are a menace and a distraction no matter how much I love you.

*****

Part 4: Finale

Because Gordon never goes half-assed into anything, Virgil is still finding granny squares. 

He has to keep reminding himself that he appreciates Gordon’s dedication. He actually relies on this part of his brother’s character. Frequently, in fact. 

But as he pries a stray granny square out of his sock drawer and tosses it into the project basket housing its companions, Virgil has to roll his eyes. Fondly of course. In the project management world, they call this scope creep - with no real end in sight, the project keeps getting bigger and more involved, and it’s all too easy for it to just keep living on indefinitely. But then, Gordon is one big Scope Creep anyway since he was never one for boundaries in the first place. 

His definition of an appropriate time to stop was very different from Virgil’s. 

At this point, the new square isn’t anything Virgil hasn’t seen before. He knows by now what to expect from Gordon’s work. And, honestly, it’s just like Gordon to somehow manage to desensitize Virgil away from everything he knows about color theory, however briefly. So, neither the presence of the piece of fabric nor the color combination provides any shock value anymore. 

What it does do is remind him that he’s got his own project balancing to do. That of actually… you know… finishing the damn thing. And figuring out what to do with the rest of the squares, he reminds himself as he slides on his socks and laces up his boots for the day. 

The newest acquisition - two rounds of golden yellow followed by two rounds of aubergine purple and a final in white - doesn’t look as visually discordant alongside its peers, the scrambled rainbow they are.  They are all the ones that didn’t make the cut for Gordon’s afghan, the  squares Virgil keeps finding anew, and inevitably the future ones Gordon will continue to make until he receives another lightning strike of an idea.

Right beside it is a second project basket. Gordon likes a big blanket, so enough squares to fit a king sized bed are already packed up and labeled in their sequential order. As he’s had time, Virgil has started sewing them together based on the design Scott helped with. There’s enough space still for him to store the bolt of fabric John helped him find too, once it finally arrives. 

Virgil’s grateful for their help, and their part in the project has made it just that bit more special. He hopes Gordon feels that way too. It took Scott reminding him that it wasn’t his own aesthetic he was trying to please for the design to come together. Otherwise, Virgil has no doubt what he would’ve designed would’ve been lesser for his own misery trying to force order into chaos. 

Somehow, with the power of math, Scott’s perspective on patterns and probability and randomization had been just the ticket. Gordon also probably hadn’t realized just how many squares he’d made that started with the shade of yellow or orange or his typical bright shades. Just that little bit of consistency was all he and Scott needed to figure the rest out as they laid out the squares. It wasn’t a pattern, a fade, or even entirely randomized. But a couple edits later, they had the final layout, the squares numbered, and Virgil had gotten to work joining his own granny stitches into his brother’s work in the only color Gordon considered “neutral” - yellow. 

Unable to resist the smile it brings, Virgil tugs the blanket out of the basket and unfolds the two rows he’s finished, with the third halfway complete. It doesn’t bother him that his connecting yarn is still live - the hook has his last loop stabbed into the working skein, and even if it does come unraveled a little, crochet is not so difficult to start again. 

It had taken a few tries to find the right hook to help him match Gordon’s stitches. Even though Virgil taught him a few years ago, no two makers’ work was exactly alike. And Gordon was as carefree with his gauge as he was in the rest of his life. 

Excitement thrums through him; it’s morning, the birds are chirping, and he’s feeling motivated and productive. The crochet work is soft in his hands, the next square in the sequence visible in the project basket below but hiding the rest of the queue for the third row. It’s the perfect day to grab some coffee, hide away in his studio for a few hours, and let the project surprise him. 

That’s the way a WIP should work: it should inspire along the way. 

Virgil has just thrown a towel over the basket to make it seem like it could be laundry - just in case he runs into a wayward squid - when the alarm in his room sounds and John’s voice comes over comms. 

They have a rescue. 

~*~

Virgil awakes to the smell of antiseptic and the uncomfortable feeling that his mouth tastes like cotton. 

Something about that makes him want to giggle, except he can’t actually do that. 

“Easy, Virg.” Hands, soothing, graze his hairline. “They’ve got you on the good stuff.”

He can tell. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet to know if he’s in a hospital or the infirmary, nor does he know what happened to land him there.

Based on the cotton in his throat and in his head and in his lungs, maybe he ate Gordon’s blanket. 

The giggle turns into a groan. 

“You’re okay now. Rest, Virgil.” 

Since the voice is Scott, he does so.

~*~

The next time he remembers waking, he’s in the infirmary on the island. Again, this he knows not because he’s opened his eyes to figure it out, but because his senses tell him so. Only one brother knows sea shanties enough to be familiar with that one and, if Gordon is here humming it, they’re both definitely not in a hospital.

The words he wants to say trudge through the molasses on their way out.

“Wha’ happ’n?” 

“Virgil!” It’s surprise, and excitement, and relief all rolled into one, but Gordon has the good sense to keep his voice low once the original shock of him waking settles.  

Gordon knows the drill well, his voice barely above a whisper as he closes the blinds and scoops some ice chips into a cup. Virgil’s grateful for the gentle way he moves about the room; he can hear him shuffling around, dictating as he goes. By the time Gordon returns with the cup of blessed relief for the feeling in his esophagus, Virgil has managed to tearily blink his eyes half-open. 

Beneath his brother’s brushed fringe hides a bruise the size of a fist, purpling so harshly at his hairline that Virgil ignores the ice chip Gordon offers him in favor of reaching up to check the injury out for himself. Immediately, his body protests the movement, and Gordon urges him to lower his arm back to the support of the bed.

“Yeah, maybe don’t try that?” Gordon waves him off. “I’m fine. What do you remember?” 

Through the pain in his lower half and the color of Gordon’s face, the memories of the rescue come back clearer. Unfortunately, of all things, they’d been called out to a mudslide. He’d checked Gordon out in the field, he remembers. A panicked civilian with a wayward right hook while Gordon was calming his husband. The man had been incredibly apologetic, and Gordon assured him no harm was done, but Virgil pulled him off duty as a concussion risk and left him in Two with  Grandma talking to him.

Then, when Virgil went after a lifesign in a toppling two-story… 

“A house hit me.” 

“Well, more mud than house. You’re ok though. You were buried from the waist up. Had some compartment syndrome. Everything you’re feeling - or not - is temporary.”  

“You came to get me.” Virgil could argue that grounded meant grounded, that Gordon should never’ve gone after him in such dangerous conditions, that he’s the big brother and Gordon’s the little one and he should keep himself safe when he’s told to do so. But there’s a challenge in his little brother’s warm honey eyes already, and he remembers faintly words spoken in worry and fear, assurances that tighten in a coil around his heart.

“I did. There wasn’t anyone else.”  

He owes Gordon everything.

Virgil hums, “Thank you.”

Between the pain medication and water soothing the grittiness in his throat, he feels more aware by the minute and ready to try sitting up for a time. Gordon helps him settle a few pillows into position and raises the head of the infirmary bed to the appropriate level. He’s got to let Scott know he’s awake - and Grandma -  Gordon tells him. Before either of them decide to have scolded Squid for dinner. 

Virgil doesn’t have the energy to chuckle, but it does as he knows Gordon intended: leave him with a smile for the few moments Gordon needs to step away to communicate Virgil’s situation. 

His heart is music, his soul is color. Where sound is oversaturated with the wisps and hums of machinery tracking his vitals, his heartbeat in rhythm, color becomes his touchstone. Outside the window will be the cerulean of the sky and sea. Green, which he thinks in its most basic form because it’s every combination of the hue throughout the robust plant-life of their Island. Dandelion yellow - the sun and safety and Gordon’s baldric. 

Past the shut blinds, it’s all just a sliver. More prominently, there’s just white and infirmary clean grey.  He has to blink away the dullness, as he tears his gaze away from the window and finally musters the strength to glance at himself and especially at his lower half past the pain where Gordon promised his lack of feeling, muted through painkillers, was temporary. 

Color, so much of it that it’s blinding, greets him with the neon of signage amidst the Las Vegas cityscape and the celebration of the New York Pride parade they attend each year. The blanket draped across his lap is authentic Gordon through and through, in familiar squares assembled in a chaos true to their variety. No rhyme, no reason. 

So much care. 

“Grandma will be in shortly.” Gordon plops into the chair at his side, wiggling in the armchair to reacquire the work he’d placed on the seat cushion. He catches him looking, wide-eyed. “It’s not your project, promise. Though I did bring it in for you to work on when you’re feeling better. It’s over by the holoscreen whenever you want me to bring it over. You’ll be here for a bit healing, so I figured…” He shrugs, trailing off. 

“Gordon?” He slides his fingers between the stitches and curls them gratefully into soft, comforting colors. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m - uh -” Gordon flushes in dim light. “I’m weaving in my ends finally,” he admits, holding up the darning needle. “Sorry if you had another idea for the squares, but once I finished putting yours together, I realized we had enough still to donate some more blankets and those really should be finished.” Gordon weaves a red tail end back and forth between the strands the way Virgil taught him, and the way their mom taught Virgil. “I really did go a little overboard on granny squares didn’t I? I just figured it would be okay for me to help you along. So you could finish what you were working on. Was that ok?”

“More than.” 

It also tells him a significant amount about how serious his injuries were and how long he might have been out of commission, if Gordon’s found the time to finish as much as he has. The concern for what he’s put his family through spikes his heartbeat again, and his younger brother glances up to check on him, the monitors, back at him.

Virgil gives him a weary smile, tugging the blanket further up his chest. “I’m ok,” he assures him. “Thanks to you.” 

“Don’t do it again,” he admonishes, shaking his head.

Neither of them can promise the other, not in their line of work, and they both know it. 

The words go unspoken, but they are woven delicately in the strands of their gifts to each other. Virgil feels the care against his skin, in colors that chase away greys, and soft cotton that sifts fear and worry out through openwork patterning. And when Grandma finally makes her way in to check in on him, his heart is so full with the chance he’s been given, the support he’s always had by the people he cares for, that the love hits him with a wave of exhaustion. 

Into sleep he falls, deeply into dreamless rest by the time Grandma finishes her checks and  Gordon tucks him in with a thankful salute to the stars above.

The End

[slocumjoe]

⚡Gage Catchup Lightning Round⚡

Since I haven't written him in every post, just going back and giving him his very own variety hour of everything he's missed

Biggest complaint about writing; I absolutely hate that the Minutemen can't be recognized as the absolute juggernauts that you can turn them into. It's everywhere in the game, but with Gage, in particular, its such a missed opportunity. I talked about this in earlier but just know I still hate it. Nuka World on a Minutemen playthrough is kind of a flop in general. You go there, you kill everything, done. Being able to confront Gage with a Minutemen army that blows the dick off of any raider gang he's ever seen in comparison is, like, a golden goose egg. But its fine 🙃

Sole breaks down crying in his arms; 1/10 C.C, 0/10 I.C. Doesn't matter what kind of relationship they have. Gage was not the person to do this out of the blue to. If they're close, he'll care, and want to help, but tough shit, he's Porter Gage. He's not meant for that kind of stuff. Maybe if he had a lead up, some kind of warning, he'd be better suited to...not be useless. Honestly, most likely companion to straight up duck when they go for him, flip them over on the ground. If he lets them, Gage keeps his arms and face up, stares at the ceiling and pretends it isn't happening. That's if they're close. If they aren't, whether they're mostly strangers or just buddies, you're getting flipped like a pancake.

1 headcanon; Stress eater, but doesn't want to waste food as a nervous tic, so settles for smoking. Keeps his mouth busy. Will also chew on shit, like necklace chains or pens.

2 headcanons;

Was very close with his family until the day he left. It wasn't a growing resentment, it was an epiphany one day after a raid. Before that one day, no one would have ever thought that Porter, who was shaping up to be a fine young man, a good older brother, great with the cows and goats, would run off in the night, and later become a raider. Was a momma's boy, always helping her around the house. Especially close to his grandparents, got a lot of his personality from his crotchety ass grandfather who rarely had a good thing to say about anyone. Except Porter. Porter was the favorite child.

Never returned home because he knew, for a fact, that his name was going around after the Conner incident, and the idea of seeing his family when they knew what he was now, made him sick to his fucking stomach. He says he doesn't care. But 16 year old Porter Gage sat in a backroom of an old bar with a cold beer to his now-blind eye, and bawled.

Physique headcanons; Dad bod for daaaayyys. Strong, lean arms, very broad shoulders, tiny little waist and hips. Taller, 6 feetish. Toned body but with a softer belly. His hands are square, veiny, boney, and have long fingers. Scarred around the nails from chewing obsessively he was younger. Not about physique, but about his body, so; has tattoos. Very simple designs, your basic tribal patterns on the torso and shoulders. Would get more if he wasn't older, and now smart enough to be wary of strange needles. Missing more teeth than he's comfortable with. Lot of body hair all around, but centered mostly on his chest and happy trail. As for the eye, the injury was the fusion cell on his rifle getting shot and blowing up...as he was aiming down the ironsight. The eye is still there, just completely fucked and useless. The skin is obviously burned, and becomes itchy and painful in colder weather. Needs the patch so he doesn't scratch or rub it. Doesn’t use laser weapons anymore. Insecure about his appearance if in a meaningful relationship, even more so if his partner really is, as he says, a stunner.

Laughing headcanons; Doesn’t laugh often, keeps that shit to himself. But...if you can catch him, his laugh is very rough, snorting, lots of little catches of breath. Crosses his arms and covers his mouth when laughing. His eyes squint heavily, and his crows feet are much more noticeable. His laughing is on the quieter side, snickering to himself. But if its a full-blown fit, will tear up laughing. Wheezy. Kind of seal-like in his laughing-laughing.

Variety NSFW headcanons; Bit on the bigger side but not enough to be worrying. Has a scar on his dick, under the foreskin. Will not explain because he himself has no fucking idea. B.O IS SO FUCKING BAD. Would die happy if given a titjob. Once crossdressed for a partner and has to take a moment to cringe every time he remembers it. Not the crossdressing thing, the guy he was fucking. Not someone worth doing that for. If he's in a shower, he's jerking off. Its like...the only reason he takes them.

[itsclydebitches]

You’re so mean. I’m crying after reading that poor Zevlor specifically about Orin’s gift. Omg that part make me cry. That’s so tragic. Even if I don’t get who is Orin (I’m still at act 1) so mean yet it was so well portrayed my poor heart can’t take it! I must don’t miss him! 😭

It makes me feral, anon! I definitely won’t spoil any more about Orin because she’s a treat in Act 3 but yeah, missing out on Zevlor the second time doesn’t, uh... end well for him...

I might do a followup meta after my 2nd play-through because all joking aside, it is kinda fascinating to me how much Zevlor functions as the narrative’s punching bag. Certainly we have no lack of characters going through The Horrors—which includes all the Origin peeps—yet there’s something about the combination of Zevlor’s past, his place in the conflict, and other characters’ feelings towards him that makes my brain go, “Goddamn what did the man do to deserve this??”

Anyway, until then please accept a happier Zevlor ficlet to make up for the very upsetting meta :D

***

The Feast Pairing: None Word Count: 1,122 AO3

“How are we on rations?”

Zevlor knew, of course. There was very little going on in camp that he wasn’t already aware of. Still, it was either make the rounds and ask rhetorical questions, or pace within the chamber until Tilly threatened to knock him out with the pommel of her sword. Zevlor wasn’t willing to test her resolve in that matter and the others, frankly, were more indulgent—more than he deserved.

Okta smiled, clearly trying to take the sting out of her words. “Well, we’ve got enough for a bowl each, not that a bowl’ll get ‘em very far.”

Zevlor looked down at the gruel, though that seemed such an unkind word for what had been sourced with determination and slow-simmered with love. The concoction was more liquid than oats and Zevlor knew they hadn’t nearly enough milk for that to be the base. Okta was right. His people were subsiding mostly on water and with an inevitable battle on the horizon...

A soft curse suddenly took flight and Okta’s expression hardened—foreign emotions marring her face. “Wouldn’t be so bad if those tree huggers would grow a pair 'a fuckin’ horns and share a bit of what’s theirs.” Her eyes lingered on the storage shed. “Pandirma’s done such a good job guardin’ it for ‘em.”

Translation: She could slip a thing or two into her pockets.

“The druids have given more than enough,” Zevlor murmured.

Okta met his gaze squarely. “No. They haven’t.”

There was no accusation in her words but Zevlor still felt them keenly. Perhaps if he’d had the fortitude to get through to Kagha. Perhaps if he’d found a better place for them to shelter from the goblins. Perhaps if he’d gotten them out of Elturel faster, or done more to lift the city from Avernus. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

Zevlor’s old blade was locked tight in a chest he had every intention of leaving behind, the mark of his God meticulously filed away. Being a Hellrider had gotten him little but despair, so Zevlor reached into his pockets as only a man and retrieved a single, meager offering.

A simple pear, bruised and missing its stem.

“It’s not much,” he said, holding it out, “but perhaps... for the children...?”

Okta’s smile was as soft as any mother’s but before she could take the fruit a shout sounded from above them. Honed instincts and overwrought nerves had Zevlor reaching for his crossbow. It took him too long to register that the sound was one of happiness.

The adventurers. Zevlor watched, stunned, as Tav and two of their companions came down the slope—carefully so as not to disturb the riches they carried. Wyll lead with a basket of apples that put his small pear to shame. The pale man—Astarion—followed with a pack twice the basket’s size overflowing with all manner of foodstuffs: mushrooms, grapes, bread, fish wrapped carefully in paper, and—Gods, was that alcohol? It was Tav that caught everyone’s eye though, the one drawing appreciative hands to their lower back and arms as they passed. No one could pat their shoulder because they had a massive buck slung across them, the beast sluggishly bleeding into their armor.

“Hungry?” they asked, just this side of cheeky.

“How...?” It was all Zevlor could manage. The amount they carried would feed all the tieflings tonight. Tomorrow too. For days if they were careful.

Wyll shrugged. “It's nothing extravagant, I'm sorry to say. Turns out that goblins don’t just eat dwarf and this food would have gone to waste had we left it behind.”

“Because we killed them,” Astarion took up, a manic satisfaction in the words. “Not all of them. Not yet, darling, but given how generous we’ve been of late, I’d be happy to discuss our payment—”

Tav smacked him with the buck’s hoof as they slipped past. “Ignore him,” they said, letting out a sigh as they finally set their prize down. “You don’t owe us a thing, Zevlor.”

“I beg to differ.”

“What are we getting paid for, Astarion? The strenuous act of picking apples beneath an idyllic tree? The good fortune of spotting a lame buck that fell to a single arrow? Oh wait, maybe it’s your stressful day of... what was it? Right, slipping a single vile of poison into the goblin’s beer tub.”

Zevlor suddenly had the sense that Tav was teasing Astarion—and that this was a rare honor few others were afforded.

Astarion sniffed. “I expect to be accommodated for my supplies at the very least. That poison was of high quality and very expensive.”

From just beyond his shoulder Wyll mouthed, ‘It wasn’t’ with a crooked smile.

All the while Okta had been doing a strange little dance, clapping her hands with glee as she surveyed the feast before her. Suddenly she swooped down and planted a kiss on Tav’s cheek, blood and all. They flushed a deep scarlet and hastily stumbled to their feet.

“Thank you,” Zevlor breathed. There were still goblins, and Kagha, and the long, arduous road to Baldur’s Gate, but this? This was a gift that would carry them through.

Feeling foolish, he pressed the pear into Tav’s hand, daring to go so far as to squeeze as he pressed their fingers around the fruit. “Here. You should have something for yourself too.”

Tav blinked, staring down at the offering. For one horrible moment Zevlor considered all the ways his words could be misconstrued. That the adventurers weren’t allowed to partake of their own food. That their efforts—immense by anyone’s standards, let alone his—were worth only a sad piece of fruit. That impulsive act had been worse than foolish; it was insulting.

“What about you?”

That’s all they said though. Honest consideration. Zevlor had to swallow hard before he could answer. He wasn’t even sure what he said. Something about the skin getting stuck in a tiefling’s teeth. Okta shot him a look that was part amusement, mostly resignation. Then she shooed everyone away so she could begin preparations.

They did, in fact, feast that night. Well, perhaps ‘feast’ was a comparative term, but Zevlor would have taken their meal over a king’s any day. He was conservative with his own plate and most of what he did take mysteriously wound up on Mol’s. The child had a knack for slight of hand but it would be several years before she could catch him in the act.

It was when Zevlor finally returned to his bedroll that he found it. Another gift, another offering of friendship, this one warming him right down to his core.

A cut pear rested beautifully on a plate, each slice meticulously peeled of its skin.

[pathfinderunlocked]

Divine Beast Winter Wolf - CR13 Magical Beast

A winter wolf boss fight with interactive terrain elements.

Artwork is official concept art from Final Fantasy XIV, copyright Square Enix.

Regular winter wolves already have some basic supernatural cold powers, but this one takes it far beyond that, creating blizzards and conjuring massive exploding pillars of ice.  This creature is based on the Fenrir boss fight from Final Fantasy XIV.

The CR 9 Alpha Winter Wolf that I previously posted has a similar mechanical concept, but this higher level creature isn't just the ruler of a pack of winter wolves. It's also supernaturally endowed with divine power, in a similar way to how a divine spellcaster might be, or perhaps more aptly, a ranger or druid's animal companion. Winter wolves are intelligent, and this Divine Beast Winter Wolf understands where its power comes from and worships the deity that has empowered it, fighting to pursue that deity's goals and directing its pack to do so as well. Its default alignment is listed here as neutral evil, but you should probably change it to match the alignment of its deity.

This creature is very much meant to be a boss fight, and has significantly above-average hit points, in exchange for spending several rounds of a typical fight not actually dealing damage.  It doesn’t particularly need any minions, although you could give it winter wolves as minions if you want.

I recommend a pretty large outdoor combat area for this fight.  You don’t want anywhere the PCs can easily hide or get cover.  The idea is that they have to get cover behind the ice spikes when the boss uses its Howling Blast ability.  It’s fine if they invent their own alternate solutions instead of doing that, but don’t give them a free one.

Divine Beast Winter Wolf - CR 13

This elephant-sized wolf has blue and white patterned fur, a mane resembling icicles around its elongated neck, and a rime of frost around its muzzle. A portion of fur is seared away where a holy symbol is branded into its forehead.

XP 25,600 NE Huge magical beast (cold) Init +10 Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, scent; Perception +16 Aura icewalking aura (120 ft.)

DEFENSE

AC 28, touch 15, flat-footed 21 (+6 Dex, +1 dodge, +13 natural, –2 size); +4 vs. AoO hp 256 (19d10+152) Fort +18, Ref +17, Will +12 Immune cold Weaknesses vulnerability to fire

OFFENSE

Speed 70 ft. Melee bite +21 (2d6+12 plus 3d6 cold and trip) Space 15 ft.; Reach 10 ft. Special Attacks breath weapon (every 1d3+2 rounds, 60-ft. cone, 10d6 cold damage, Reflex half DC 17), inhale frost, howling blast, summon ice spikes

Spell-like Abilities (CL 15th; concentration +18)     1/day—grand ice storm (see text)

STATISTICS

Str 26, Dex 22, Con 25, Int 13, Wis 19, Cha 17 Base Atk +14; CMB +24 (+26 to trip); CMD 40 (46 vs. trip) Feats Combat Reflexes, Dodge, Improved Initiative, Improved Trip, Iron Will, Mobility, Power Attack, Run, Toughness, Weapon Focus (bite) Skills Acrobatics +23, Climb +16, Knowledge (religion) +5, Perception +28, Stealth +13 (+19 in snow), Survival +11; Racial Modifiers +2 Perception, +2 Stealth (+8 in snow), +2 Survival Languages Common, Cyclops, Giant

SPECIAL ABILITIES

Inhale Frost (Su) As a full-round action, when a divine beast winter wolf has used its Summon Ice Spikes ability and is within 100 feet of its ice spikes, it can spend its turn inhaling a massive lungful of icy air, recovering 4d8+19 hit points, ending any one harmful condition or ongoing magical effect affecting it, healing all damage or drain to any one ability score, and allowing it to use its Howling Blast ability on its next turn.  When it does so, it suffers a -2 penalty to AC until it uses Howling Blast.

A divine beast winter wolf can use its Inhale Frost ability even if helpless or unconscious, as long as it can breathe and using the ability would remove the condition or damage making it helpless or unconscious.  (If its negative HP is lower than the amount Inhale Frost would heal, and there’s a chance that the ability would not bring it to 0 HP or more, roll the healing first to determine if the ability is usable this round.)

Howling Blast (Su) On the next turn after a divine beast winter wolf uses its Inhale Frost ability, as a standard action, it can release a howling blast of freezing air with a 100-foot radius in all directions.  Creatures that do not have cover from this attack are pushed back 30 feet and take 6d6 cold damage and 6d6 sonic damage.  Small or smaller creatures are also knocked prone; Large or larger creatures are not pushed back.  A DC 26 Fortitude save halves the damage and halves the distance pushed back.  Creatures that have cover are immune to this effect.  This is an air effect. The save DC is Constitution-based.

Additionally, when a divine beast winter wolf uses Howling Blast, any ice spikes it has summoned begin to vibrate, and explode 1 round later (see the Summon Ice Spikes ability).

Grand Ice Storm (Sp) As a standard action, as a spell-like ability, a divine beast winter wolf can summon great magical hailstones that pound down over a 60-ft. radius, in a 40-ft. high cylinder, and divinely hone in on the divine beast winter wolf's enemies. These hailstones deal 6d6 points of bludgeoning damage and 4d6 points of cold damage to the divine beast winter wolf's enemies in the area, but do not harm its allies. This damage only occurs once, when the spell is cast.

For one round per caster level afterwards (typically 15 rounds), heavy snow and sleet rains down in the area. Creatures inside this area take a -4 penalty on Perception skill checks and the entire area is treated as difficult terrain; the divine beast winter wolf and its allies can ignore this difficult terrain due to Icewalking Aura (see below). At the end of the duration, the snow and hail disappear, leaving no after-effects (other than the damage dealt).

Treat this as a 7th-level evocation [cold] spell. Spell resistance applies.

Icewalking Aura (Ex) A divine beast winter wolf and all of its allies within 120 ft. can move across icy surfaces without penalty and do not need to make Acrobatics checks to run or charge on ice.

Summon Ice Spikes (Su) Three times per day, as a one-round action, a divine beast winter wolf can begin conjuring four massive spikes of ice in locations within 100 feet of the divine beast winter wolf.  These locations begin to visibly rumble when the divine beast winter wolf begins using this ability.  The ice spikes must be positioned at least 30 feet apart from each other. 

At the start of the divine beast winter wolf’s next turn, when the one-round action completes, the ice spikes appear, piercing up through the ground as massive vertical spikes in the designated locations.  Each ice spike is 5 feet wide and 60 feet tall.  An ice spike which would impact the ceiling instead stops at the ceiling.

Each ice spike makes a melee attack roll when it appears, with +21 to hit against any creature standing in the location where the ice spike appears, dealing 8d8 piercing damage and 4d8 cold damage on a successful hit.  Additionally, it makes a lower attack roll with +16 to hit against any creature standing adjacent to the location where the ice spike appears, dealing 4d8 piercing damage and 2d8 cold damage on a successful hit.  The attack bonus is based on the divine beast winter wolf’s hit dice and Charisma bonus.

The ice spikes remain for 1 minute or until the divine beast winter wolf uses Howling Blast, at which point they begin to vibrate.  1 round after they begin vibrating, the ice spikes explode, dealing 8d6 cold damage to all creatures within 15 feet of them. Targets that take cold damage from this explosion are also entangled for 1 round by frost.  A DC 22 Reflex save halves the damage.  The save DC is Charisma-based.

After using this ability, a divine beast winter wolf cannot use it again until 1 round after the spikes explode.

[moneneki]

An unlikely ally

Pairing: Azula/Jet Rating: T Summary: After a betrayal that scattered everything Azula had built inside Ba Sing Se, she starts to make a new plan.

A short fic for Week 1: Forced to work together/Sickfic/There was only one bed of @atlararepairmonth!

Also, it looked like a particularly good day for some antimonarchist sentiment lol

Scrunching her nose, she didn’t contain the disdain with which she looked around the rickety room. It smelled like dust and misery, like most of the Lower Ring, and it looked much the same way. There was barely any furniture, save from a low table and a couple of small squared tatamis. The window was covered with a crude wooden blind, and she could smell mould on the walls underneath.

She wanted to complain; the petty corner of her mind, the one that was used to get the finest silk gold could buy for draperies that wouldn't even touch her skin, itched at the sharp words gathering in her throat. But she also knew that she had a mission, and that her personal comfort was not paramount to achieve it; therefore, it needed to be discarded.

The silhouette of the one remaining Dai Li guarding outside their lousy hideout provided less relief than she would have liked. He was moving. She observed, tense and ready. At least half of the Dai Li were now back on Long Feng's side…

“Princess, we got some food,” he whispered from the other side of the paper-thin wall.

She exhaled a silent sigh.

“You may bring it in,” she commanded, taking a brief look at the immobile, unconscious runaway next to her. He'd probably need to eat something as soon as he woke up. The problem was, she didn’t know if he’d be able to stomach any kind of solid food.

It had been a rushed decision, taken in a split second, to bring him along while fleeing the Earth Palace. She’d recognized him from the Dai Li reports, back when all of them responded to her. Before the incident in the catacombs; her authority had been undermined one inch too far and so many things had collapsed around her…

Her unexpected companion shifted, bringing her attention back to him. The boy with the hook swords was a trouble-maker, an agitator the Dai Li had finally caught after he’d made a too-bold confrontation with some ‘firebenders’ in the Lower Ring. He hadn’t been wrong; maybe he'd be glad to know that.

His movement prompted her back to action, and she reached for the bag the agent had just left in front of her. One look was enough; the food was somehow worse than the house. The round shape of the bread (she assumed it was supposed to be a steamed bun) made it hard to bite, and its hardness made it impossible. Nevertheless, she persevered and managed to take a chunk off, chewing methodically on the resulting sawdust.

There was a crude ceramic pot inside, and one cup. She decided she'd use it before he needed it, and served herself some of the content. A preliminary sniffing made her suspect it was supposed to be tea.

Rearranging herself on the tatami next to him, she cradled the cup of tea in her hands. She could feel her fingertips warming up, a sign of the chi-blocking wearing off. Those two traitors! It was Zuko's fault, not to align with the right side! Mai and Ty Lee should have let destiny run its course! No wonder she had lost the Dai Li's respect; who would be loyal to a princess whose two closer collaborators betrayed her?

As quickly as she could, she shot down the shock and indignation, the boundless anger, the… 

The hurt.

She buried that word. Hurt meant weakness, and she was not weak. She couldn't afford to; weakness meant dishonor, and dishonor meant disapproval in a world where being in the Firelord's good graces was everything.

Damn them! Mai and Ty Lee turning against her inside Lake Laogai, out of some misplaced sense of 'love', had thrown all of Azula's plans out of their course. It made the Dai Li doubt her, gave Long Feng enough footing to reclaim part of his forces and had left Azula in a more compromised position than she had ever wanted to be, without her bending and relying only on half of a force that ought to remain united.

As her cup let out the first thread of steam, he groaned and blinked, finally waking up.

Predictably spooked, but also bound by the severity of his injuries (some of the younger Dai Li agents could be too harsh), he made an unsuccessful attempt to get away from her.

“Who are you? What is this place? Last thing I saw was the Avatar and that firebender…”

Oh, so he already knew.

“We are back in Ba Sing Se,” was all she said. The rest of the information needed to be dosed carefully. “The Avatar flew away with his friends and his bison.”

The spark of hurt betrayal in his eyes was deeply satisfactory to notice.

“You were wounded, and I thought you were worth helping,” she looked at him.

Indeed, this particular peasant had also managed to become an important figure within the Lower Ring underbelly. A coup orchestrated at the top hadn't worked; one coming from the bottom, from the very foundations…

“Who are you?”

“My name is not important,” she put down the cup of cold tea. “I just share your interests.”

“What do you know about me and my interests?” he bit back, like a cornered animal.

It worked for Azula.

“Oh, some things,” she smiled. “I know you want this city to be free of tyranny…” she shrugged in apparent indifference, and observed with satisfaction the darkening of his frown. “I know you, like many, are tired of monarchs and kings telling you what to do.”

She picked up the teacup again, satisfied at the now uniform heat on her fingertips. 

“You're one of them,” he growled, pointing at her now steaming cup of tea. She didn't try to deny it. “Why do you care to help us?”

“You are right,” she answered, sipping from her cup. “I am a firebender. But bending is not always a show of allegiance, as you might have come to suspect from some of your Lower Ring acquaintances.”

Azula knew for sure that some of the former sympathizers of Jeong Jeong –the old fool– had taken refuge in Ba Sing Se, and frequented the same circles as this self-appointed freedom fighter.

He still didn't seem convinced.

“Suffice to say, I am very invested in seeing the people at the top of this city falling down,” she sipped the mediocre, diluted tea in her cup with complete calmness.

And only after that I may claim this city for my father.

However, he didn't need to know that.

“Do we have a deal?” she extended one hand.

He didn't take it. 

“I don't trust you.” The obvious suspicion on his glare revealed the rush going on inside his mind. “But you could have killed me while I was out. I will cooperate with you this once. Then we’ll see.” 

She smirked; despite his youth, Jet was a better player than Long Feng, she could already sense it in his words. 

“Suit yourself,” she shrugged. “You will see that you can really use my help.”

He snorted.

“It seems to me that you need mine too.”

His words made her smirk widen. She liked this guy… and maybe her respect for him rose an inch.

It would be interesting working with him to make Ba Sing Se fall.

[adventure-showdown]

What is your favourite Doctor Who story?

ROUND 1 MASTERPOST

synopses and propaganda under the cut

The Shrink

Synopsis

The Third Doctor sees a "shrink" as he is assumed by said shrink to be imagining his life.

Propaganda

dr.who goes to therapy (anonymous)

Search Out Space

Synopsis

The Doctor, Ace, K9 and Cedric are taking part in a game show to see who can win The Ultimate Challenge - the biggest gameshow in the universe.

The contestants are forced to answer fairly basic questions about space, with severe punishments if they get it wrong.

Propaganda

Broadcast on TV during the Wilderness Years, so it's basically a continuation of the actual show if you think about it.  (anonymous)

the dr takes part in a space game show (anonymous)

Dimensions in Time

Synopsis

The Rani traps the Doctor in his third, fifth, sixth and seventh incarnations, as well as several of his companions, in Albert Square, London in 1973, 1993 and 2013.

Propaganda  

its bad but you know you love it (anonymous)

Emperor of the Daleks

Synopsis

Jamie and Victoria walk into the Dalek Emperor's Great Hall only to find the Emperor alive. Four Silver Daleks advance on them, causing them to helplessly lift up their hands in surrender as they realise the room is filled with even more Daleks on various levels, and the Doctor's TARDIS has been captured. The Daleks victoriously declare that they have returned.

Propaganda

It is one of the most important stories for Dalek history showing the restoration of the Emperor of the Daleks and it is less than a minute long. How crazy (Anastasia Cousins)

The Curse of Fatal Death

Synopsis

The Master corners the Doctor and Emma on Tersurus, prepared to unleash the deadly vengeance of deadly revenge!

Propaganda

Moffat pokes fun at a version Doctor Who he won’t write for another 20 years, its great (anonymous)

[jewwyfeesh]

Tasty Travels - An Unexpected Journey 5

Writer: Mitsuki

Character(s): Suou Tsukasa, Tsukinaga Leo, Sena Izumi, Sakuma Ritsu, Narukami Arashi

Translated by: jewwyfeesh

Ritsu: Just now when we were chasing after the car, there were people holding their phones out taking photos… who knows, maybe someone’s already captured a photo of Secchan looking horrifically inelegant and uploaded it.

Translator's Notes: [1] 美味指挥棒 (original CN term) was used as a blanket term to refer to the biscuit sticks (pocky/pretz etc). As such, I decided to use a tl of the original term instead of mentioning either brands. 美味 - tasty/delicious, 指挥棒 - baton (conductor's baton)

Season: Summer Location: Outside Ensemble Square

<A while later>

Tsukasa: So, Leo-senpai, kindly explain yourself. How did you manage to forget that your companions were still in town, and drove off on your own?

Izumi: Chasing after cars is a suuuuuper~ annoying thing to do, and some pedestrians even thought we were filming some sort of show…

Ritsu: It’s so tiring~ Feels like I’ve maxed out my exercise quota for the year, and from here on out I don’t wanna move at aaaall.

Arashi: Yeah, agreed. Running around like that without any thought for my image… I look anything but beautiful.

Ritsu: Just now when we were chasing after the car, there were people holding their phones out taking photos… who knows, maybe someone’s already captured a photo of Secchan looking horrifically inelegant and uploaded it.

Izumi: …If I find any pictures on the internet that ruin my perfect image, you will not be let off the hook, Leo-kun.

Leo: Why are y’all looking at me like I abandoned you? Do I seriously look like someone who’d do that? I should be the one asking why you single-handedly decide to run over!

The event isn’t over yet! I had intended to let everyone wait in town, and drive over by myself to pick up the second set of taste testers… Suddenly disappearing then reappearing with more promotional materials… isn’t this as fun and enthralling as a magic trick?

I wasn’t expecting all of you to run after the car, though, it really gave me a shock! It’s not good to disrespect traffic rules, ya know? Obviously, as ‘idols’, you should be the one setting the example! Am I right or am I right?

Though, it really seems like y’all can’t bear to part with me! In that case, y’all can tag along for the round trip afterwards!

Izumi: There’s actually a round trip involved? Why didn’t you tell us about these important things earlier!?

Tsukasa: If it was for that reason, it’s completely OK for you to discuss it with us from the very beginning, Leo-senpai!

However, this is a sign that you are doing your part, so… I’ll do my best too.

Arashi: Ufufu, as long as you’re enjoying yourself, I suppose these sorts of situations are also a kind of special journey in their own right…?

Ritsu: Yep yep, that’s exactly it~ And, when you compare it to any ordinary journey… If you’re our King, then these events are actually some rather unexpected pleasures~

This journey is truly one of a kind, sweet and delicious~ Here ♪ (Ritsu shoves something into Tsukasa’s mouth)

Tsukasa: Ritsu-senpai! This isn’t particularly appropriate…… (nom nom)

Izumi: Do you take me for a blind person, Kuma-kun!? I saw that! You’re not allowed to sneakily give him any more chocolate flavoured ‘Delicious Batons’[1]!

Leo: Wahahaha, in that case, let’s officially rename this trip to Tasty Travels!

Three, two, one…… blast off ☆

Translator's Notes: [1] 美味指挥棒 (original CN term) was used as a blanket term to refer to the biscuit sticks (pocky/pretz etc). As such, I decided to use a tl of the original term instead of mentioning either brands. 美味 - tasty/delicious, 指挥棒 - baton (conductor's baton)

← chapter 4 | event page lines/interactions →

[bestcubebracket]

BEST CUBE BRACKET ROUND 1

Someone jokingly suggested a poll so i have to do it now!! Best cube bracket, 16 entrants, single elimination, all that good stuff

Round 1 Polls

Enemies: Blok vs Gelatinous Cube

Toys: Rubik's Cube vs Dice

Cubes That Speak: Weighted Companion Cube vs The Black Cube

Internet: Cube, Defender of the Polyverse vs Perfectly Generic Object

Evil Cubes: Borg Cube vs Lament Configuration

High Art vs Low Art: Cosmic Cube vs Astor Place Cube (Alamo)

Thought-Based: Time Cube vs Square-Cube Law

True Gamers: Minecraft vs Gold Lego Brick

[companion-showdown]

Who is your Favourite Companion to a Companion?

TOURNAMENT MASTERPOST

[tonystarkbingo]

TSB Round 7 Roundup - Week 1 ROUNDUP!

It's the very first roundup of our latest round! Check out all the amazing fills and send out some love to our incredible creators.

Collaborator: scottxlogan Card Number: 7017 Square Filled: T4 - Grief Title: Home Again (Chapter 30) Link: AO3 Pairings: Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes Word Count: 10319 Rating: Mature Major Tags/Triggers: Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Supernatural Elements, Canon-Typical Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, References to Depression, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Pre-Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Angst and Romance, Blood Loss, Adult Content, Explicit Language, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Blood and Injury, Dreams and Nightmares, Slow Burn, Sexual Content Summary: Bucky experiences a painful reunion and pours his heart out to an old friend as his grief over what he lost consumes him. Just when it seems all hope is lost, Sam offers Bucky a surprise that could change everything. Meanwhile Tony and Ramsay share a heart to heart that could potentially put Tony on the right track after his time with Bucky was stolen from his memory.

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Collaborator: scottxlogan Card Number: 7017 Square Filled: S1 - Wish Title: Home Again (Chapter 31) Link: AO3 Pairings: Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes Word Count: 19408 Rating: Explicit Major Tags/Triggers: Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Supernatural Elements, Canon-Typical Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, References to Depression, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Pre-Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Angst and Romance, Blood Loss, Adult Content, Explicit Language, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Blood and Injury, Dreams and Nightmares, Slow Burn, Sexual Content Summary: After a few surprising truths are revealed Bucky and Tony are reunited at the reservoir in Wakanda. Will it spell disaster or prove to be the happy ending they've both been searching for?

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Collaborator: illogicalkat Card Number: 7009 Square Filled: R4 - Soulmates Title: These are the hands of Fate Link: AO3 Pairings: Bucky Barnes/Tony Stark Word Count: 665 Rating: Gen Major Tags/Triggers: no warnings apply, soulmates, canon divergence Summary: Tony's thread has been with him as long as he can remember.

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Collaborator: purpleicedteas Card Number: 7007 Square Filled: R5 - Bucky Barnes Title: And So It Goes Link: AO3 Pairings: WinterIron (romantic) Word Count: 9456 Rating: Mature Major Tags/Triggers: Single Dad Tony, Recluse Bucky, Brief mention of Pepper's breast cancer and death; Silver Fox Tony, Silver Fox Bucky, Single Dad Tony, Former FBI Agent Bucky, Recluse Bucky, Alpine the Cat Summary: Bucky Barnes was a retired FBI agent living as a recluse. Content with a solitary lifestyle, he lived for years with only the company of Alpine, his feline companion. When the empty home next to theirs is filled with new neighbors, Alpine and Bucky find their lives weaving with the handsome engineer and his daughter.

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Collaborator: Marveler Card Number: 7024 Square Filled: K5 - Hindsigh Title: Taskmaster Avengers Edition Link: Tumblr Pairings: N/A Word Count: 1209 Rating: Gen Major Tags/Triggers: Point disagreements, drowning an inanimate object, taskmaster gameshow Summary: Tony suggests the idea of an Avengers Edition Taskmaster special and everybody seems pretty excited by the idea. Tony was too but hindsight is 20/20 and if it’s making people laugh, that is okay.

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Collaborator: Otpcutie Card Number: 7029 Square Filled: R2 - Jealousy Title: The Bait Link: Tumblr Pairings: Steve/Tony, Steve & Bucky, Bucky/Peter Word Count: 0.7k Rating: Teen Major Tags/Triggers: Detective AU, grumpy Steve, jealousy, besties and work partners Steve & Bucky, pining Steve, Bucky is fed up with it, undercover Tony, angst, love confession Summary: Tony goes undercover as an escort for a case.

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Collaborator: PoliZ Card Number: 7021 Square Filled: K1 - Conflicting Obligations/ Oaths Title: Blind Luck Link: AO3 Pairings: Steve/Tony Word Count: 844 Rating: Teen Major Tags/Triggers: AU: Med School, Hurt/Comfort, Eye Trauma, Miscommunication, Bathing, contact with cadaver Summary: It's late, and Steve has a phlebotomy practicum first thing tomorrow morning, but when he hears a call for help in a nearby lab, he knows he has to respond.

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Collaborator: scottxlogan Card Number: 7017 Square Filled: K4 - Seeing Red Title: Right Here Waiting Link: AO3 Pairings: Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes Word Count: 15556 Rating: Mature Major Tags/Triggers: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not Steve Rogers Friendly, Not Peggy Carter Friendly, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Tension, Confrontations, Pride, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Drama, Angst and Feels, Fluff, Angst and Romance, Past Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Swearing, Adult Content, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Summary: It's June and Steve's still struggling with coping over discovering the truth about Bucky and Tony's relationship. When Pepper plans a post-birthday celebration party for Tony's birthday to bring everyone closer together, the scene erupts when tension reaches a boiling point. In the aftermath Tony takes matters into his own hands and has a few surprises in store for those around him.

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[midnightwind]

so I beat BG3 finally and I have.... Opinions. This is going to be Very Long and full of spoilers, obviously, so fair warning

So to open with, I do really like Act 1 and 2. They have solid pacing and while Act 2 might be missing more side content, it does makes sense given the whole curse making it difficult to move freely without always having a torch out which can severely impact some builds. So I'm glad we don't spend very much time having to deal with that. (I am dual wielding thief rogue scum, so the torch was Agony)

I think Act 1 does an okay job leading you towards the goblin camp as the big end all of the story section while letting you also decide to hop into the Underdark for extra optional content. The Creche is kind of nightmarish depending on your choices, but I think it's still good content. I simply don't care for the Gith much as a people, but they're an important story beat so it's nice to get more of them before you delve into cursed lands. A1 has a nice balance of exploring and side content to do and I really never feel lost or in a lull. I have a goal and the freedom to do whatever else I want on my way to it. Plus the companions have a lot to say and a bunch of interactions together, especially if you change out a member periodically to trigger new ones.

Act 2 is a bit more rail road-y story wise, but you have the little side quests for Astarion and Shadowheart to pursue, helping Halsin, and a few npc quests to pick up or find. I think the inn defense is a bit of a nightmare because Jaheira will sometimes just nuke the tieflings for daring to be near an enemy, so trying to keep everyone alive is.... it can be a lot. But that's going to be more rng to blame than anything else I suppose. And like, if you don't care about saving everyone then it's a breeze I'm sure, I'm just a goody two shoes. The only bad time I really had in Act 2 was due to bugs, so that wasn't the story's fault! (I fell through the floor and only survived because of Thief's passive to reduce falling damage) Well, okay, the Nightsong fight also sucked. Shove being a bonus action is bullshit and also why would they make that such a problem on a floating rock? I had to redo that fight so, so many times to have my party all make it to round 2 without someone getting launched into the void. But otherwise! The build up to Ketheric and actual execution of his fight were all really good. (Well, I skipped phase 1 of his fight because funny persuasion, but I digress)

They really made you worried about Ketheric, showed how much power and sway he had over the land, especially by making him the source of the curse that was poisoning the land. They went in on making him the big dead boss you had to work to beat. I was excited to see what Gortash and Orin had working for them in Act 3!

But then I actually did Act 3, and man, you can feel the rush here. There's just so much squished into the city to the point where having it split in half doesn't help. The game can barely handle how much it has to always have loaded and moving. And the amount of story feels like they were going to have 4 Acts total, but then were told to push the game out and they just had to throw it all into one Act and hope. I think having Tav deal with either Gortash or Orin for Act 3 would have been better for the pacing and allowed for both of the villains to get proper sway over the city they were taking over.

Gortash has some sway with the Steel Watch stomping around, but they really aren't all that threatening unless you decide to slap one on the ass in the town square. You get a glimpse at what they really wanted to do with Gortash at his coronation, but it never really leaves Wyrm's Rock. Maybe it's because I was playing Rogue and sneaking past every locked door, but I never felt like Gortash was a threat. He was more like a snotty kid in the corner muttering rude names at you. The second he tries to go for you without the public eye around, he's dead. He doesn't even do a good job manipulating you. He's all about schemes and having power over people, but his solution when he sees Tav and the gang is to just... ask them to kill Orin for him and share in the power afterwards. Which would make sense if he hadn't led with the whole killing his last partner idea. Why should Tav trust him to hold up his end of the bargain if he clearly would rather rule solo? If Gortash has full control over the city, or the beginnings of it, shouldn't he be making connections with the big entities? Shouldn't he know more about the group of adventurers set on ruining his plans? He clearly can have Orin walk around the camp whenever he wants, so why isn't he turning any of the companions' baggage against them? He could link up with Cazador to send Astarion into a panic, snap up any stragglers of Karlach's friends to keep her from playing baseball with his head, tempt Gale with magical secrets and knowledge of Netherese. He had an in against Jaheira with Orin's shapechangers infiltrating the Harpers, but apparently they suck at their jobs because they got caught instantly, and also the game just shrugs and doesn't have us save the Harpers. Like, so many of the companions are linked to Baldur's Gate somehow and it isn't used to control them. If you take out the foundry, Gortash is just a guy in a booby trapped room with two goons. There is some poetic justice there about how the schemer is just a man at the end of the day, but Tav doesn't do anything to take his power away outside of getting rid of the mechs and maybe changing a single day's paper printing, if you were so inclined. We have no chance to stop the coronation, to break up the blackmailing and mind controlled nobility, hell he doesn't even make it hard to walk the streets if you betray him! He's supposed to be the schemer, the brains behind the operation, so why does he just sit in his castle and do nothing? He could enforce a curfew, forcing the gang underground and into back alleys. Like, I could see it making some builds more tedious to get around with, but they needed to show his power over the city somehow. The Steel Watch just don't cut it, in my opinion. (I also basically one shot him in his fight with 0 traps even going off so perhaps my opinion is colored by that experience)

Orin, then, well... she barely exists as a problem honestly. She steals a party member a few days after Gortash warns you about her, but the reveal just removes the taken character and you're left down a man. She's a serial killer, Bhaal's own unholy assassin who can change her shape as easy as one dons a cloak. So why does she let her ruse be revealed so easily? I think it would have been more compelling, more insidious if she were to take Tav's love interest (or highest approval companion) and just never reveal it's her. You could stumble across the real companion later, mayhaps fleeing from the cult in the sewers, and be forced to make the call on who's real and who's the fake. We have multiple forms of revival in the game, so you could make this hurt without actually losing a companion forever. You would never know when the switch happened and if you chose wrong, imagine how gut wrenching that would be! Instead her cult is more annoying than she is. The whole Sanctuary mechanic is tedious, the amount of the fuckers in the city begs belief, and having to try to save random npcs on a bloody note proves extremely annoying quickly. We don't know the npcs being targeted which is fine, but when I've restarted 3 times to try and distract the 8 assassins with my party so they don't hit the 50 health citizen 20 times, I start thinking the random shop keep might be better off dead. And it is doable, to save them, it just takes so much to pull it off. Again, maybe it's because I was going through the game determined to save everyone, or near enough, so what should have been moments of feeling helpless were more just a huge pain in the ass. The threat of Orin is too simple because they drop the doppleganger act so fast. Plus, she even offers to call off the killings if you take care of Gortash for her and then meet her for a duel! She solves herself. I think it's honestly a disservice to the idea of the character and she feels like a lot of the ideas behind her just weren't given the time they needed to pan out.

And then we move past them, to the Elder Brain. You spend all of Act 3 working your way up to either taking over this thing or killing it. And then you get stuck in extremely long mob fights for the next few hours before finally reaching the damn thing and it's both a dps check and a fucking heal check. The whole endeavor was a pure slog to me and making the summon allies a full action made it feel like it was just never worth it, I could dish out more damage with my own actions. Plus, the allies can't even follow you inside to deal with the brain so at best you use an action to summon hopeful meat shields. It feels like a poorer version of the defense of Denerim in DA:O. The other companions aren't shown doing anything, or even really hinted at doing anything except for like, 4 of them being at the rallying meeting. And the choice between supporting the Emperor or freeing Orpheus! It felts terrible either way! Support the entity keeping you safe, but lying the whole time who doesn't seem willing to talk about it's plans after dealing with the brain or free the trapped Prince of the Gith and hope he doesn't instantly kill you or lead his people to kill everyone in a war of conquest under a new name because you honestly have no idea what he'll do. It's shit either way.

The actual character endings are rather sparse. Also, fuck whoever thought it'd be funny to have Astarion running off screen if you destroy the brain and the vampire rules reassert themselves. You spend the whole game with him mentioning loving the sunlight and seeing the world how he used to. And then you make it a joke when he loses that? It's a heartbreaking moment and it was ruined by having it framed that way. It felt cruel.

I only got to see the epilogue with Astarion, because I romanced him, and Karlach returning to the Hells with Wyll and while they were both nice, they felt very short. I wanted to see what everyone would do, if the gang would stick together or stay in contact. How would they settle into the remains of the city, who would tag along if Tav decides to adventure on, do they have reunions or get togethers, do we get to have that party? It feels so rushed, like a lot was cut to ship the game out, and the companions all suffer for it. Granted this is if you destroy the brain. The endings where you take it over seem even shorter, albeit executed well for the power trip they're setting up, but you don't get much beyond that to my knowledge. (I haven't gone back to see all of them yet) I spent something like 130-140 hours in this one play through. You spend the whole game working up to this confrontation, this resolution, and it feels so truncated. Even just a still image of the landscape or characters with some text slapped on top to detail how they wrapped up the adventure would have been better than having 80% of the gang forgotten. I didn't take them all out into the world, finishing their personal quests, to have them be left behind like that. I love them all and I wanted to see their happy endings.

I loved my time in Faerun, despite it all, and I'm just a little disappointed with how the last act played out. I wish the game had been allowed more time to be finished, for the love and care that so clearly shines in Acts 1 and 2 to be allowed to flourish in Act 3. The people who made this game clearly care, and they had a story to tell, and it leaves a bitter taste behind that they so clearly were not permitted to tell it how they wanted to.

[ivyfox-illustration]

Cork Back Coaster RAINBOW CORDED POODLE, standard poodle, watercolor, spoo, continental, creative grooming, unique poodle gifts Your favourite breed art print - head or body conformation - groomer gift - Other Breeds Available - dog breeder gift - regional specialty or national specialty prize gift idea Artwork by Ivy Fox Illustration Follow Ivy Fox Illustration on social media https://m.facebook.com/IvyFox.illustration/ https://www.instagram.com/ivyfox.illustration/ Find your dog breed: Personalized Pet Portraits: https://ivyfoxillustrates.etsy.com/ My website: https://ivyfoxillustration.com/ Art Prints Merch Original PaintingsThis personalized photo coaster helps you market yourself the right way or uplift any table with a custom touch. Each round and square coaster is made with a high-gloss, polyester-coated hardboard top, and features a genuine cork bottom to prevent sliding. .: Made in USA .: High-gloss top .: Sizes: 3.75″ X 3.75″ (Square) and 4" X 4" (Round) .: Material: Genuine cork bottom finished with a glossy white top made of polyester-coated hardboard .: NB! One coaster per listingContact Email: IvyFoxIllustration@ gmail(dot)com ———— Tags and other miscellaneous info: ———— Ivy Fox Illustration Ivy Fox dog art Museum of the Dog American Kennel Club Showsight - Where Champions Are Celebrated American Dog Fancier InfoDog Best In Show The Canine Chronicle AKC Gazette best pet portrait artist watercolor fine art unique art Akc meet the breeds Westminster kennel club dog show national dog show crufts grooming intergroom superzoo petquest groom expo dog sports well bred dogs purebred preservation breeders ethical breeders breeder of merit akc grand champion Ch – Champion of Record – earned by gaining 15 points in conformation wins. Points awarded is determined by the number of other entries the winning dog defeats. A dog must win at least two majors (by winning at two different shows under two different judges where there are enough entries defeated to equal 3-5 points by the AKC point system. OTCh – Obedience Trial Champion To earn an obedience title, the dog must have a passing score of 50% of possible points or better, and an overall passing score at three different competitions under three different judges. CD – Companion Dog (First Level Obedience Competition, basic obedience exercises) CDX – Companion Dog Excellent (Intermediate Level Obedience Competition, more advanced obedience work) UD – Utility Dog (Advanced Level Obedience Competition, difficult obedience work, including hand signals) UDX – The highest obedience degree AKC presently awards TRACKING TD – Tracking Dog TDX – Tracking Dog Excellent VST – Variable Surface Tracking HERDING HIC – Herding Instinct Certificate HT – Herding Tested PT – PreTrial Tested HS – Herding Started HI – Herding Intermediate HX – Herding Excellent HCh – Herding Champion AGILITY NA – Novice Agility OA – Open Agility AX – Agility Excellent MX – Master Agility Excellent NAJ – Novice Agility Jumper OAJ – Open Agility Jumper EAJ – Excellent Agility Jumper AKC Unofficial Titles CGC – Canine Good Citizen ROM – Register of Merit – A dog or bitch must earn a number of points specified by the DPCA rules, and also meet the numbers of champion and major pointed progeny required by DPCA. The requirements for bitches are less than the requirements for the dogs because males have the opportunity to produce a far larger number of offspring. ROMC – Canadian ROM ROM/C – designates that the dog has earned an American and a Canadian ROM. TT – Temperament Tested TC – Temperament Certified AOE – Award of Excellence-A dog must meet qualifications in conformation, obedience, and also be OFA´d to earn this award. New competitions are being added and rules for competitions change, for the most up to date rules and regulations, check with the AKC and the DPCA. Miscellaneous American titles often seen on pedigrees and in advertising. BIS – Best in Show at an All-Breed Show in conformation. BISS – Best in Show Specialty (where only dogs of the same breed are competing in conformation) BOB – Best of Breed BOS – Best Opposite Sex BOW – Best of Winners (best between Winners Dog and Winners Bitch in breed conformation class competition) WD – Winners Dog – the winning dog overall of the regular classes of his sex. WB – Winners Bitch – the winning bitch overall of the regular classes of her sex. RWD/RWB – Runner up to the winners dog and bitch, if the winner becomes ineligible for the award then the runner up will receive the points awarded from that show. Special – A dog that is already a Champion that is competing for Best of Breed only. A Champion cannot compete in the classes where points are earned (because a Champion has already earned them!) RTD – Registered Therapy Dog TD I- Dog has passed Therapy Dog International´s testing HEALTH CERTIFICATIONS OVC – Ontario Veterinary College OVC Hip Certification – A dog may be preliminary screened at a younger age, but will not receive a certification unless the dog is at least 18 months old. It was told to me by a tech in the radiology department of OVC that they consider hips to either be bad, in which case they are rated on a scale from 0 – 4, with 4 being the worse, or they are “good” in which case the animal will receive a certification number (if 18 months or older. Therefore they do not follow the U.S. rating system which includes “FAIR”, Good, Excellent”. Their exact words were “the hips are either GOOD or they are NOT. OFA – Orthopedic Foundation for Animals OFA Hip Certifications – dogs within a specified range of normal hip x-rays are certified OFA-Excellent, Good, or Fair OFA – Elbow Certification – Certified by OFA for normal elbows on x-ray, only one grade recognized as normal. Check with OFA for proper procedures and positioning for hip and elbow x-rays. A dog may be preliminary screened at a younger age, but will not receive a certification unless the dog is at least 24 months old. OFA is also now doing certifications for other canine health concerns such as normal thyroid levels, check with OFA for accurate data and rules concerning these. CERF – Canine Eye Registry Foundation-dog is certified to have normal eyes. Re-certification must be done annually. vWD – Von Willebrands Disease free-meaning the dog has been tested and found free of vWD, a bleeding disorder, vWD free ratings also are often given with a percentage listed. For the best information on Von Willebrand´s Disease, contact Dr Jean Dodds, who is the leading research specialist in blood disorders. Dog show prize idea

[nightmarist]

some video games i grew up with and love:

Rage Racer (PS1) - simple racing game, best OST

Azure Dreams (PS1) - pokemon dungeon crawler with dating and town building side quests. collect monsters, climb to the top of the tower to find out what happened to your father.

Alundra (PS1) - adventure fantasy rpg puzzle game. you Will need the guide book. beautiful art. interesting story. you enter people's dreams to save them from certain death while also trying to fight evil in the real world.

Brave Fencer Musashi (PS1) - silly action adventure fantasy, save the world from evil with two swords as legendary hero Musashi

SaGa Frontier (PS1) - Turn based JRPG, a bit clunky but fun. You choose one of 7 origin heroes, play their personal stories, and meet many other companions to defeat evil together. Only SaGa series game I've played.

Secrets of Evermore (SNES) - your dog runs into a laboratory, now you have to travel across time to get home and face monsters. The dog changes breeds and has special powers each level.

DISNEY. Lion King, Timon & Pumbsa, Toy Story (SNES) Aladdin, The Little Mermaid (SegaGEN) All disgustingly hard for Capitalism(tm) reasons but still very fun.

Heroes Chronicles series (PC) - fantasy strategy game series. Chess with monsters? Interesting but super simple story. One of my favorite games to zone out with.

Might and Magic VI: The Mandate of Heaven (PC) - Fantasy party dungeon crawling RPG, one of my favorites.

Myst (PC) - Puzzle game of the ages.

Syberia I & II (PC) - A good puzzle narrative game, well acclaimed.

Return to Mysterious Island (PC) - Another first person puzzle game. If u cant tell I really loved these. Good game, good anrrative, very short and not as difficult as previous.

Darkfall: The Journal (PC) - scared me as a kid. First person puzzle game with ghosts. Think of a gentler Myst or Riven.

Micro Machines (SegaGen) - Silly racing games. Multiplayer

California Games (SegaGen) - More silly sports games

Ballz (SegaGen) - A super silly fighting game. Everyone is made of little balls. Think of. Round minecraft.

Detective Barbie (PC) - Solving various easy mysteries

Barbie: Race & Ride (PS1) - Barbie & horses <3

Barbie: Super Sports (PS1) - Barbie skating, snowboarding, etc <3

Digimon World 3 (PS1) - Turn based adventure fantasy, love the card minigame

Digimon Rumble Arena (PS1) - Simple fighting game

Star Ocean: Till the End of Time (PS2) - Scifi/fantasy JRPG, interesting fighting system and lore. I otherwise have never played the other Star Ocean games.

Red Ninja (PS2) - Fun stealth game. Pro And Con: Main Character big titty ninja girl you can easily panty shot.

Yu-Gi-Oh: Duelist of the Roses (PS2) - I wish this version of YuGiOh existed IRL, I fucking love this system. I want to print out all the cards and a mat to play.

The Last Remnant (XBox 360) - A square JRPG. I'll be honest there are so many better games both play and lore, but the unique battle system stole my heart.

Additional games I love but I think are more well known:

Zoo Tycoon

Age of Empires / Age of Mythology

Kirby 64

Sonic, Sonic 2

Starcraft

Warcraft 3 (favorite warcraft game, 10/10 recommend)

Diablo 2

Jak & Daxter (Jak II, Jak III)

Spyro Trilogy

Kingdom Hearts (the first one mostly)

Mortal Kombat 3

Mortal Kombat: Armageddon

Castlevania: Symphony of the Night

Castlevania: Lament of Innocence

Dragon Age series

I have every Final Fantasy up to XIII, but my favorites are V, VIII, IX, and X-2 in that order.

I also have every Silent Hill up to Downpour. My favorites are 1, 2, and 4.

Lore: I played Silent Hill when I was 6 or 7 years old and liked it even though I was bad at it. I played Tomb Raider when I was the same age and was too scared of the bear to ever get past the first 10 minutes.

[bestbudscolorado]

Elevate Your Vibes: Mastering the Art of a Positive Cannabis Experience

Cultivating a High-Quality Set and Setting with Cannabis- By Best Buds Dispensary

When it comes to elevating your cannabis experience, the concept of "set and setting" is like the peanut butter to your jelly—it just makes everything better! Your mindset (set) and your physical and social environment (setting) can significantly influence how you vibe with Mary Jane. Here are some tips to help you create a positive set and setting for your next session, sprinkled with a bit of Best Buds humor to keep things light.

1. Prepare the Environment

A comfy, clean, and chill space sets the tone for a dank experience.

Clean and Comfortable Space: Keep your space tidy and inviting. A clutter-free environment helps foster peace and relaxation—plus, you won’t trip over last week’s laundry hella high.

Lighting: Opt for soft, warm lighting, or glow in the dark lighting. Harsh, bright lights are a buzzkill, while gentle lighting sets the mood for relaxation.

Music and Sounds: Curate a playlist of mellow tunes, or nature sounds or positive vibe soundtracks with good memories.

Aromatherapy: Pleasant scents like lavender, chamomile, or sandalwood can promote relaxation. But scents like Tangerine or Citrus can elevate your creative vibes.

2. Choose the Right Strain

Selecting the appropriate strain is like picking the right tool for the job. You wouldn't use a chainsaw to butter your toast, right? Ask your Best Buds budtender about the effects of each strain.

Effects: Different strains, different gains. Choose a strain that matches your goals (e.g., Indica for relaxation, Sativa for creativity and energy, Hybrid for balance).

Dosage: Start low and go slow, especially if you’re a newbie. Gradually increase as you become more familiar with how it affects you—because nobody wants to become a couch potato.

3. Choose Your Companions Wisely

The people you share your cannabis experience with can make or break your session- no annoying or depressing Karens allowed.

Supportive Company: If you're with others, make sure they're on the same wavelength.

New Companions: Have a variety of open ended topics to discuss or an activity to in engage in together (art, video games, movie, hiking trail).

4. Hydration and Snacks

Taking care of your body is essential for a top-notch cannabis experience. Snack attack, anyone?

Stay Hydrated: Drink plenty of water before, during, and after your session. Cottonmouth is real, folks.

Snacks: Embrace the munchies—no judgment here! Or opt for healthy snacks. But EAT.

5. Reflect Post-Experience

Taking time to reflect on your experience can provide valuable insights. Or at least some funny stories.

Reflect: After your session, take some time to think about your experience. Write down any insights or thoughts you had, or just doodle a bit.

Restock: Tell your budtender what you liked and didn't like about your cannabis experience, how it made you feel physically/ mentally, and which products/ methods you used to consume. They can make some great recommendations for your next cannabis adventure to tailor to your needs.

Best Buds has you covered

By thoughtfully preparing your environment and mindset, you can elevate your cannabis experience and maximize its benefits. Whether you're seeking relaxation, creativity, or some deep philosophical insights (like why is pizza round but comes in a square box?), a positive set and setting can make all the difference. Know your limits and tolerance and adhere to them. Best Buds budtenders are here to help, so ask us how we can be of service.

www.bestbudsco.com