#travel the breadth of extremities

[deandoesthingstome]

travel the breadth of extremities

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia X Forest Nypmh!OFC (Fithra)

Summary: Your job is to ferry travelers through the dangers of your forest. Your charge isn’t used to needing someone else so badly.

Warnings: There is sex in this story. It’s pretty tame. Some oral (m and f receiving), some standard p in v positions (cowgirl, missionary, I think that’s really it but if you find something else let me know.) NSFW, +18, NO MINORS

Word Count: 6k

A/N: I listened to Hejira on repeat almost the entire time I wrote this story. The title comes from the lyrics. I hope what I felt about this tale translated to the page for you. I made up a bunch of stuff. Also, I don’t own Geralt of Rivia or The Witcher, but I own this OFC and the words here. Please don’t repost. Likes, comments, reblogs are amazing. 

"You should stay on your horse. And we have to keep to this path." I sighed heavily, frustrated at having to explain the situation yet again to this tall, silver haired man who had approached asking passage through the Faerlaith Forest.

We hadn’t spoken about much, other than his need to travel to the other side faster than a journey around the outer edges would take. I didn’t ask for a name because we have no need for that. And money wouldn’t be exchanged because it’s superfluous here. But from the moment we'd struck our deal, he'd already begun attempts to change the terms of our agreement. There weren't many, honestly. Stay on the horse. That was basically it. But this man, this witcher if my ken was to be trusted and it usually was, was not interested in being led along like dead weight.

“You’re sure we can't cut across the underbrush here? It'd be faster,” he groused, shifting to reposition himself securely in the saddle as I glanced over my shoulder with what I hoped was my best stink-eye as I led him along one of many paths with varying widths through the lush and dark greenery.

“You'd think so.” I’d already explained this to him at least twice since we set out from the forest’s edge, close to Gilgaard in what this man had called The Far Lands. To me, we were simply home. But this home was hostile territory to outsiders. Only the desperate and hurried ever bothered an attempt to cross Faerlaith on their way anywhere. Worn paths well clear of the forest would take any creature where they wanted to go, albeit hours or days longer than a trip through the forest. Usually.

“And I can't get down?” 

This question again, spoken with a gruff I was slowly getting used to.

“As I said from the outset, the ground in this forest is attuned to a certain presence and pressure. My footsteps and your horse will do you no harm. Your heavy gait would doom you.”

“I can walk lightly.” 

“Not likely,” I snorted, barely able to contain the laughter bubbling inside. I’d watched this man approach, reins of his steed in hand. He moved like he walked through honey, seemingly in no hurry, oddly enough. He was nimble, agile, stealthy to be sure. I could even imagine him cat-like. Maybe, wolf. But he couldn’t mask his weight when he walked no matter how quickly he might bound from foot to foot. Our land would not abide.

“Hmmm…” 

His low growl stirred an ember in the pit of my belly. One best left unattended, or so I’d always been advised. Passers-through were usually not of the ilk my kind cared to entangle with. But this man…

We walked on and I was grateful for the silence that settled over our tiny party of three. Of course the horse counted. How could she not? But the lack of grumbling allowed me to shift all my focus to the air around us, searching for telltale signs of danger, feeling for the practically imperceptible changes in pressure.

“So it's a certain gait that’s needed?” His voice caught me off guard for a moment as I realized he really would not let up.

“Mmhm.,” I answered, about to leave it at that. But maybe the conversation would be nice. It really wasn’t often anyone new came through. I decided to use his curiosity to my benefit, practicing the art of voice that wasn’t needed with my kind. “And pressure of step.”

“And you've mastered this gait?” he inquired.

“I was born to master it, so yes. Oh, and you'll want to be sure your horse...what was her name again?”

“Roach.”

“Yes, you'll want to be sure Roach doesn't try to feed or water along the way. I had you attach the leg guards in case the path gets too close or overrun with shrubbery. Her hooves are fine, but the skin should be covered.”

“The plants are dangerous?” he asked with incredulity.

“The water in the streams that lace through this land to feed them is, yes.” 

“Hmmm..” he growled again, the low throat reverberation permeating the air.

I hoped he wouldn’t ask how that came to be, that water flowing into the forest turned immediately toxic to anything not of the forest. That part of our heritage was kept hidden from all but the tribal elders. As if it would harm us to know why or how our land became so maleficent. In all my many years, though perhaps less than my somewhile companion, I was only taught how to hold the forest in high regard as I was nourished and sheltered, as well as to endure. I always considered it a wonder few ever left.

He seemed to consider it for a while as another silence fell and we walked further on into the depths of Faerlaith.

“Are you sure I can't walk myself? I’ve been studying the gait.”

“You've a hard time not being in control, don't you?” I laughed gently over my shoulder. It was amusing, this man who simply would not be told no.

“You like being in control?” he asked, a hint of something dangerous deep behind the words.

“Not especially. It's just what I do in this forest.”

“And out of the forest?” he asked.

“I could take it or leave it.” I honestly hadn’t spent much time out of the forest, so I’m not sure what those words were meant to convey. But I’d heard them once before, from a group I’d led through the bitter land and I liked the way it sounded.

“So I'm to sit here, on my horse, while you lead me, how far is it? Through the forest?” 

“We're about a third of the way through now. And yes. You just sit.” I turned my head to glance at him with a small smile over my shoulder again. “On your horse.”

“And watch.” I nodded in answer and he returned another low hum.

He was only silent for a few more moments this time.

“You can't teach me this walk?” It was definitely becoming amusing. I had a sense this man wasn’t verbose under normal circumstances, so I found it oddly endearing he couldn’t help himself here, where words were rarely necessary.

“It's the weight, too,” I replied.

“But I'm on the horse,” he countered.

“The ground doesn't know that.” 

He gave me another contemplative hum before continuing.

“It's a nice walk.”

“You've taken notice?” I was grateful he couldn’t see my eyebrow arched in curiosity. Why, I couldn’t say at the moment.

“I've had nothing to do but notice. It's...pleasant to see.”

I was about to ask if was sure he was talking about the walk when I spotted a Wrythe up ahead. The spirits were as dangerous as any other thing about the forest, save my tribe. The fact that this one had made itself known in enough time for me to turn back on our path to locate another route to the other side was puzzling. But it also meant I was distracted, and that my attention had faltered from my duty. 

“Why are we backtracking?” he asked as I carefully maneuvered Roach around in a wide part of the path.

When I was sure her hide was clear from the surrounding shrubs, I turned to answer.

“Don’t look back, but it’s gone now anyway. Still, there was a danger up ahead and now that this path for this journey is known, we have to find another way.”

“But we have to be already half way through. How far back must we go and how much longer will it take?”

“Honestly, I couldn’t say. I had hoped we could take the most direct route. I usually don’t have this kind of trouble. But I was sensed. And for now this trail is closed to us.”

Like a fool, he looked back.

“I don’t see anything.”

“I’m ignoring you for now. If you want to take your chances, be my guest, but I struck a bargain to ferry you safely through this forest. I’m going to keep moving and it’d be great if you stayed with me so I could finish my task.”

“But you’re going backwards.”

I didn’t respond. I had to recenter. Something was off. Could have been my balance, with all that twisting and turning as I attempted to view the witcher both surreptitiously and obviously, when our conversation warranted. Could have been the conversation itself. Something about the way he admired the gait. My gait. Had that caused me to falter?

We traveled back in silence again as I scanned the forest floor for the next fork that would allow us to turn back toward the exit location he had requested. Once I found it and had traveled a ways along the narrower line, I felt grounded enough to make another attempt at conversation.

“Can I ask, since I didn’t before? How is it you made it to Gilgaard without knowing about this forest or its dangers?” I called out, hoping the sound would travel over my shoulder and back to him without a turn of my head or body.

“What makes you think I come from the direction we’re headed?” Either my voice carried well or he had better hearing than most outsiders. “And you don’t have to shout.”

“You mentioned The Far Lands. Only someone not from here would call it that. And you don’t seem particularly aware of the specifics of Faerlaith.” I kept my gaze scanning the terrain in front of me, seeking out patterns or disruptions thereof. “You also don’t appear to be from around here and I had assumed you’d simply gone around us on your travels East. But usually those who choose to travel around us know why they are doing so.”

“Fair enough. I’ll admit these lands are completely new to me. I’m decidedly unaccustomed to being this unaware of my surroundings.”

“How did you even know to come this way?” I asked, always curious about why a new traveler chooses this direction.

“An old man, who come to think of it, may not have actually been an old man, heard me ask around the tavern about the fastest way back West. I’m already several weeks past due as my business in The Far Lands took longer than expected. This was his suggestion.”

“And what was your business?” He was silent and I took that to mean his business was off limits. “Alright then, how much did he tell you about where you were going?”

“Only that I’d need to seek an obvious inhabitant and strike a bargain. He mentioned the paths through were difficult, but I thought he meant twisty or hard to follow. He didn’t mention anything about poisonous water or vegetation, or spirits that turn you back when you’re halfway through.”

“Odd. Most folk who know about the need for a guide, also know exactly why. What a wonder he didn’t apprise you. Are you sorry you followed his advice?”

“It’s been a pleasant enough journey so far. If we can make it out by the end of the day, I’ll take the win.”

We walked on in what had become a comfortable silence. I could feel my belly begin to rumble but I felt rude eating when I couldn’t offer any of my food to my charge.

“Have you brought provisions with you? Any food, or water?” I asked, realizing I should have done so before we stepped into the tree-line. It would have at least given him the opportunity to go back for supplies. But when he told me where he wanted to exit and I calculated the crossing, I didn’t think we’d be stuck this long. 

Another lesson learned in my lifetime apprenticeship as a forest attendant. I’d been given so little instruction and I couldn’t help but wonder when I’d actually lose a visitor because no one had told me a key piece of information. 

“I have enough for the evening. And something for Roach. I suppose I’ll need to give her my water, since she can’t drink from here.”

“It would be best. I’m so sorry about that. Usually travelers know what they’re getting into. I really should remember to ask next time.”

At exactly that moment, another Wrythe appeared in the distance. Still far enough away that I had time to consider where to turn around or turn off next, but certainly in my intended path direction.

“What is it?” he asked, as if he could sense the shift in tension I held.

“We have to change route again.”

“What happens if we just move forward? I have a hefty sword, I could just…”

“You couldn’t.” I knew that for a fact. 

The bargains we struck for these passages were usually fleeting in nature. A favor to be curried later. Nothing truly tangible in the moment. Rarely, a brash young satyr would demand a weapon as payment. I always avoided such items, as it felt in direct opposition to the balance our kind struck with this forest to survive. But sometimes the outside trappings enchanted our kind. Those foolish young ones would find themselves face to face with a Wrythe, brandish a sword they only thought they knew how to wield, and end up missing limbs at best. The Wrythes were not to be trifled with.

“But I am an expert swordsman,” he responded, after listening to my tale.

“Good sir, I’ve never had anyone tell me anything with so much certainty. The Wrythes cannot be defeated. Only avoided. No one who has ever attempted to destroy one has escaped unscathed. And the Wrythe continues on.”

“There must be something…” I heard him mumble to himself. I had acute hearing as well.

We had just turned off to a new path, one I was sure would actually swing back around to meet up with our original route, a short distance past where we’d encountered the first Wrythe, when a third one made an appearance, though luckily off to the side and only audibly. But any more attempts West at this point would be deadly and I couldn’t risk it.

“We are not getting out of here tonight.” I tried to remain calm, but this had never happened to me before. I wasn’t sure what the next choice was, other than that I couldn’t go forward. And I needed to think. Something had disturbed my highly developed orienteering skills. “Please, no more talking.”

I eased Roach back around and up a short hill to a tri-fork. Glancing down each path, I caught a welcome sight and chose to follow the left-most branch. A short while later, a small clearing appeared along with an ancient dwelling surrounded by a raised walkway. Enough room for a man to dismount a horse without disturbing the earth. 

“I’ll have to check the provisions, but there should be a pail inside you can pour your water into for Roach. And you’ll need to tether her up here. Now that you’re dismounted, her weight will betray her. And she can’t graze besides.”

I handed the promised pail to the man and hopped off the porch with the other larger tub I had also found. Though it wasn’t the way I’d hoped to finish the day originally, luck had shifted to my side when I noticed the shelter and my mood was turning away from annoyed again. I set the vessel on the ground in the middle of the clearing and turned to see my companion wondering after me with a curious glance.

“If you have any magic powers,” I called playfully as I made my way back, “you should pray for rain tonight. Anything caught in that tub will be fresh and unburdened by the canopy of the forest. So it’ll be of value to you in the morning. Come inside,” I offered, squeezing by the horse and entering the small shack.

“Do you?” he asked.

“Have powers? Some. Though I don’t have the divining powers. I can cast a short blinding spell, to hide if I’m in the open. And I can speak through the roots. Not all of us can.It’s taken a long time to master, but I still have plenty to learn.”

I set about building a fire to keep the hut warm for the evening, then sat across the table from my guest. I studied his visage. His strong, square jaw roughly covered in a day’s growth. His cleft chin and full bottom lip. His brows furrowing towards his golden eyes.

“Since we’re stuck here for the night, could I ask your name?” 

“You didn’t need it before, when we struck our bargain,” he quirked an eyebrow at me.

“True. And I don’t actually need it now. But I thought it would be nice to know, since we’ll be together at least the night and well into tomorrow. I’m Fithra.” I wanted to extend my arm, to bind against his in greeting, but I hesitated too long and now he was answering me.

“Geralt.”

“Geralt. That’s a strong name.” I pulled my food from my pack and watched as he prepared a small feast from his. He was guarded about it before, but I wondered if sharing a meal would loosen his reserve. So I let curiosity get the better of me and asked. “What do you do, Geralt? For a living?”

“You don’t know?” he asked, seemingly surprised.

“I have an idea. But to be honest, the stories were all told as somewhere-else tales. I never knew they were true.”

“Many might wish they weren’t.”

“Are you a witcher then?”

“I am.”

“Must be maddening for you,” I conjectured, taking a small bite, conscious of the way his eyes seemed drawn to my mouth.

“What’s that?”

“Well,” I swallowed and dared a small lick of my lips, “if the tales are true, it must be torture that you aren’t able to use your powers to defeat the Wrythes. Since they can’t be defeated.”

“Everything can be defeated.” He took a bite now, and gave me an opportunity to gaze as he had.

“No one here knows how. And we’ve lived with the Wrythes for, well…since forever.”

“It’s usually true that when a people don’t know how to kill a thing, they name it unkillable. I’ve met plenty of beasts like that in my time. They don’t exist anymore.”

I fell silent with his words, unsure how to respond. I considered everything I had ever been told about the Wrythes, which amounted mostly to how to avoid them. What to do when I encounter one. Everything was some variation of “stay away” and not one piece of advice about how to harm them. Because we couldn’t.

“Do you know how they came to be?”

“Pardon?” I was shaken from my ruminations by his deep intonation.

“The Wrythes. Do you know how they came to be? Everything comes from somewhere, or something. And its destruction is often found in that detail.”

“No one ever said.” I sat dumbfounded. Suddenly, with a chill I hadn’t felt before, I remembered kin who had left the forest for good, searching for something more. What more, I could never say. “There are some who may know, but they keep the secrets.”

“What need do your people have of secrets?”

I thought about his question, even if he didn’t realize what he was asking. He couldn’t possibly know at this point that my people don’t communicate through words at all. We simply know what others are thinking and they in turn know what we are thinking. It was generally helpful in all areas of forest life, including coupling.

And as I considered what it would be like the next time I coupled with someone who knew exactly what I was thinking, I also began to imagine what it would be like to actually teach someone what I wanted. And to learn what they wanted also. I wondered if it would feel as exhilarating as learning my forest powers. If each time a discovery was made, I’d feel a fresh tingling, not better than the known, just new. 

But before I allowed myself to drift too far down that desire, I also realized this must also mean that not everyone can know everything everyone else is thinking. The elders had kept this from us. This origin. This danger. They kept the lore hidden and didn’t share and somehow I’ve allowed myself to believe what they said because why, but more importantly, how could they lie?

And yet they had. They had lied. They knew and we didn’t and they were able to keep it from us. It felt as distant and unknown as each power I might learn to strengthen my place with my people, in this world. Something to uncover.

Geralt watched me with steady eyes as I went through all the emotions that arrived with each passing thought. I wondered if he knew the moment I almost allowed myself to think about him learning my secrets. And I realized this is how they keep secrets. And I didn’t want that.

“I don’t have a need for secrets. My people may, though they pretend not to as well. It’s making me feel curious.”

“What are you curious about?”

“Why they keep the secrets. But also about you.” He wasn’t shocked or surprised. As if he was expecting it. Or perhaps hoping.

He licked his lips as he closed his eyes, shutting his light away from me but giving me a small look at what it might be like to make him shut his eyes with pleasure. The kind of pleasure that shone right through every fiber of a being so that even with eyes shut, the power and the energy might still break through.

I was eager to feel that with him and so I asked him if he would join me in the bed. He came without hesitation, grasping my shoulders to turn me toward him and leaning to press his lips against mine with an urgency I hadn’t expected. This was his desire as much as mine. I hadn’t enchanted him and for that I was grateful, because now I would be able to show him exactly what I needed and I could ask him to show me what he needed as well.

It would be brand new and exciting because there would be no expectations. Everything would be unfamiliar and all we could do was let each new touch, new caress, new kiss, take us deeper into the evening with one another. He undressed me, not as slowly as I would have preferred, and soon I lay naked before him.

“Would you like me to help you as you helped me?” I asked, eager to see him as naked as I was.

“I would like you to touch yourself for me.”

It wasn’t the answer I imagined but it was exactly the answer I was waiting for. He wanted me and he wanted me to prepare myself for him. There was no great need to add to the moisture I already knew was building up between my legs, but I felt an overwhelming desire to let him watch my tongue trace around the tips of my fingers..

The groan he let escape his lips at the sight told me how right I was. I teased my forefinger and middle finger and let him imagine exactly what I was thinking, which was how much I wanted to do this to his cock if he would finally release it from his clothing. As he moved to unbuckle and unbutton, I shoved my wet fingers right into my cunt, glistening before his wolfish gaze.

He didn’t linger on his clothes. If I thought he undressed me a little too fast, it was nothing compared to the speed with which he removed each artfully tailored article of clothing. His armor was admirable and clearly crafted by a skilled artisan, and yet it paled in comparison to the sculpted body beneath it.

I watched his muscles ripple with every movement and the sight of him made me press into my core faster and deeper with each new feature I was graced with. His shoulders, wide and commanding. His arms, bulging. His chest, taut and sprinkled with curls that begged to be combed through. If I wasn’t otherwise occupied, I would have reached out to stroke him,

I could only imagine his hips thrusting into me; his cock, enlarged and springing from between his tree trunks of thighs. I wanted him to sit so I could rub myself along them, leaving trails of slick in my path.

When he was finally naked, he dropped beside me in the bed and kissed me hard again. 

“Mmmfff. I cannot believe that a mere twelve hours ago you were but a stranger to me and I was promising future assistance and now we are here together in this bed. It seems apparent, but I feel I must ensure you are as welcoming of this as I am.”

“Welcoming?” I scoffed. “This is more than mere welcoming, Geralt. This is a promise fulfilled.”

He paused for a moment and I froze, worried he didn’t believe me. If he thought I was tricking him and would demand another promise in the morning, he would be wrong, but I couldn’t identify what he was thinking. That mysterious mind was now turning slowly to enemy and I understood why we had to keep everything in the open. Secrets make enemies.

“This is no trick. You made the promise of a promise. You didn’t know what it might be, as neither did I, but you agreed to the term and accepted my guidance. Now I am asking you to pay your favor early. To trust that I would never consider this the end of my agreement with you simply because you’d fulfilled your promise before I did. Tomorrow does not bring another bargain. This bargain endures, until I see you safely on the other side of Faerlaith. On my honor. Now, please. Speak to me as you would your lover.”

“It will require no great imagination, as I already wish this myself.”

He proceeded, then, to tell me exactly how to keep pleasuring myself for his amusement. And once he had shifted his body in between my legs, he admitted that placing his tongue dead center to nip at and lick at my not-so-more-hidden flower was making him unbearably hard. He endured for as long as it took to make me cry out his name, and I held a firm grip on his white hair as a rush of wet heat poured over his face.

When I attempted to move away and turn to place my head close to his engorged member, he stopped me. “I do not wish for that.”

“Ever?” I asked, sure I’d misunderstood.

“Just right now. Just for right now, I desire your weight lifted above me. I want to lay back and watch you slide down my cock. I want to see the pleasure on your face. It couldn’t possibly make you any more beautiful than you are now, but I want to know if I’m wrong”

He helped me find my balance and then watched rapt, exactly the way he had as I had touched myself for him. At first, he allowed me to move myself up and down his shaft, and side to side, grinding my hips into him when I could manage a full descent. Once he was sure I had experienced another wave of never known before pleasure, he began to thrust and rut up into me. I managed to remain upright for as long as I could, eventually succumbing to an errant buck and falling forward against his chest. He held my mouth on his and kissed me deeply, keeping our lips sealed against one another even as he began to turn me to my back.

Every move was almost exactly as I would have wished it. Every touch, every kiss, every press, every pull. They all felt so familiar and yet so foreign at the same time. He took every cue I gave and translated it into the way I wanted him to put his hands on my body, and even though he didn’t find the spot I thought I wanted him to find, he found another. And the trembling I felt begin in my bones was nothing compared to the cry of ecstasy he drew from me before he roared with a final thrust.

It was as late in the evening as the early morning hours when I woke to find him seated at the edge of the bed. The fire embers were still burning low and I wondered if he thought we needed another log of slow burning knup wood. I was startled when he spoke.

“I can hear them.”

I was about to ask him who when I, too, heard the Wrythe’s cry. How had he not heard this before? In the woods, when my hearing had allowed it. I thought our senses were well matched.

“Is it always like this?” he asked.

“Like what? What exactly do you hear?” I countered, realizing I couldn’t be sure if he was hearing what I was. His answer confirmed it though. And as we listened to the low, mournful wail, circling the clearing knowing it couldn’t cross the open field to find us, I draped myself around him, legs across his lap and arms encircling his shoulders. I melted into the cradle of his arms as he reached up to hold me close.

“But you don’t hear what they are saying?” he asked.

“What? They don’t speak words.”

“Oh they absolutely do. They’re speaking right now.”

“Geralt. You’re saying you hear words in that low moan that you couldn’t hear not more than three hours ago?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

I waited longer than I felt I should have had to.

“Well, for ‘leith’s sake, what are they saying?”

Geralt proceeded to translate a tale that both saddened and angered me. These Wrythes, the spirits that would not let us defend a wayward traveler without injury, these forest menaces, they were protecting us. They were the ghosts of wayward forest kin, end met too soon in a hateful or violent manner, returned to their home. Cursed, as in life, with no voice as well as no unspoken connection. That skill had disappeared with the life. The ghost instead returned with moans. Or so we thought, apparently. Or had been told.

Geralt, and who knows how many others, had the ability to hear the words. If the elders knew and this is what they were keeping from us, I had even more questions than before. I slowly eased myself off Geralt’s lap to settle back against the wall and drew my knees to my chest.

“They are saying that there are still others, as far as they know, who remain outside the forest.” He turned to face me, drawing one knee onto the bed. “That they are only exceptions, souls who were killed in crime at the same rate as any other people in the world. They want you to know, there is no reason to think this would happen to everyone who entered the wider world for good, not just to make a trade.”

“But then why do they harm us when we ferry men, or sorceresses, or elves across?”

“Pure coincidence. The ones they appear around are most likely to do harm or evil to your kind.”

“But they appeared for you?”

“Ah yes. They appeared because they knew my hearing would pick up the vibration, but only after you and I laid together.” 

I blinked and took in the words, as well as the small smile on his face. The Wrythes had played matchmaker. That was why I couldn’t get across the forest this time. But then would Geralt have ever agreed to this if not for the interference?

“Yes. Yes I would have.” He seemed to know exactly what was going through my mind, but it was my clear voice hanging in the air that assured me the question had been asked out loud. “As soon as we were clear of the trees, I would have asked you to accompany me to the nearest inn for an evening before I continued on my way. I still may yet.”

I was surprised to hear such an unabashed confession and felt a swell in my heart. Even though our coupling had created a connection, it appeared to only allow Geralt to hear the Wrythes. It did not afford him the ability to speak without words to me. And he had chosen to speak his mind to me with no uncertainty.

“It pleases me to know this. In fact, it makes me want to return under these covers with you right now.” He gave a wolfish grin and joined me.

In the morning, I convinced Geralt to give me one last coupling. It was slow and lazy as he made his way up and down my body with kisses, tasting and nipping here and there, paying attention to what made me squirm and then repeating the motion a few more tortuous times. He found a way to make me almost release with just his tongue on my nipple. And he didn’t mind at all as I pressed against his chest and gently eased him onto his back so I could seat myself between his legs and press my lips and tongue to his cock before I slid my mouth around and down the shaft. 

I moaned around his girth and recalled how it felt to have him buried inside me last night. When I could no longer bear the memory alone, I eased off his cock and leaned back, beckoning for him to shift his body forward and over me so he could slip his dick back inside and make me come for him again and again.

It was worth the late start, especially because it had already been determined I would not be accompanying Geralt to the next inn. This one night, and now morning, would have to suffice. I was leaving the forest, for sure. The paths were still treacherous to outsiders, though as long as they stayed on horses and did not stop to water or eat, they could make it across without delay now. And without a guide.

I was no longer needed and so, yes I’d be leaving the forest to see if making my way in the wider world was of worth. But Geralt would not be joining me on my journey and nor could I join him on his. He was on his way to Kaer Morhen and late as it was. The route would be treacherous, the roads beginning to cover in snow. It was not a suitable place for outsiders. 

He turned to me with gratitude as we reached the forest edge and began to say our parting words.

“I will never forget you, Geralt of Rivia. I am glad to have met you along my way and happy it was through knowing you that the curse of my people was lifted. I am fearful about what this change will bring to my home, though. Maybe more of my kin will die at the hands of travelers.”

“The land will surely still protect you,” he spoke as a sage “And I have no doubt our paths will cross again someday. It has been my experience that once a kindred soul is met, nothing but death will break the bond and they will re-meet over and over. Surely, you and I are kindred. And I look forward to the day we draw near again.”

After a final kiss, wrapped in his embrace, we finally broke free and parted ways. I headed south and he pointed north. I turned on my toes from time to time, pleased to see him peering back over his shoulder every now and then until the distance between us was so wide and he began to drop down over the hill so that I could no longer see even the top of his head. 

I turned south again to make my way to meet my next fate.

Taglist:

@sillyrabbit81 , @kittenofdoomage , @mayloma , @kebabgirl67 , @fvckinghenrycavill , @geralts-yenn , @beck07990 , @itsrubberbisquit , @feelmyroarrrr , @sweetdreamsofgelato , @liveoncoffeeandflowersss , @alexakeyloveloki , @marantha , @aireraume , @angelmather1 , @lizzystuffsthings , @enchantedbytomandhenry , @omgkatinka , @littlefreya , @avengersfan25 , @thesaucynomad , @just-chirpin ​

Also, if you want this? @dadralt @hope-to-hell ​ maybe?

[buttercuparry]

Often in the news regarding Gaza, there have been reports about children being severely injured and having had their limbs amputated to stop the spread of sepsis or infection. This is nothing new and the occupation forces have been known to deliberately target Palestinians, often with the intention to disable them for life. An Al Jazeera article written in 2017, points out the policy of kneecapping and I can't help but think how many people have been victims of Israeli military even before the genocide began last year. In fact Mohammad Ayesh’s younger brother developed a difficulty with hearing because his eardrums burst due to constant bombing near their apartment back in 2014; and now in this genocide, he is trying to survive through a precarious situation while being disabled.

The situation in Gaza is dire, nowhere is safe and no one knows when they will be a hair's breadth away from mortal danger and so it is of utmost importance that we help provide Mohammad’s brother with the necessary funds to fix his hearing aids. It is absolutely terrible for disabled Gazans who are having to flee over and over again to escape Israeli aggression; Mohammad ( @ayeshjourney )  and his family have recently been displaced after being trapped under artillery fire for HOURS!!

Mohammad needs your help now. He needs the funds to continue to survive through this genocide and to help his brother fix his hearing aides. So please BOOST and DONATE. Remember that it is because of him that so many families have been able to fundraise on tumblr. He faces extreme danger and yet continues to meet different families so that he may vet their fundraisers, for OUR BENEFIT. Remember this please: the whole vetting process, where Mohammad has to travel long distances is for us. So now it is our turn to help him.

[fashionbooksmilano]

Bhutan

A Kingdom of the Eastern Himalayas

Guy van Strydonck, Françoise Pommaret- Imaeda, Yoshiro Imaeda

Serindia Publ., London 1984, 175 pages, hardcover, ISBN 0906026 13X

euro 22,00

email if you want to buy booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

The little-known kingdom of Bhutan, around the size of Switzerland, is now one of the last strongholds of Tantric Buddhism in the East. Although isolated for centuries by its geography, bound as it is on the south by dense tropical jungles and to the north by the Himalayas, in the last 15 years with the advent of motor roads and the national will to develop, it has slowly opened its doors to a few privileged vistoirs and tourists. Amongst these, Guy van Strydonck has had the good fortune as royal guest to travel the length and breadth of the kingdom, recording the land and its people. For centuries, monks and refugees from Tibet have settled in Bhutan's hospitable and fertile valleys and ensured close cultural links between the countries. Because of different socio-economic conditions, Bhutan soon developed a highly distinctive culture of its own, and it is the purpose of this book to introduce the reader not only to its magnificent and varied landscapes, but also to the genius of Bhutan's rich traditions of art and architecture. Other chapters in the book focus on monastic and village life, their festivals and dances. A whole chapter is devoted to the hitherto unknown valley of Sakteng in the extreme east, homeland to the yak-herding "brokpas". The book concludes with a portrait of the Bhutanese themselves, a hardy mountain people renowned both for thie irrepresible good humour and for their profound spirit of Buddhist tolerance.

07/06/24

[subway-boss-jericho]

Queuing posts for most of my AUs! Check out this Masterpost! ᵈᶦˢᶜˡᵃᶦᵐᵉʳ ⁻ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉᶦʳ ᶦᶜᵒⁿᶦᶜ ᵏⁿᶦᶠᵉ ᵇᵃⁿᵍˢ! ᴵ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᶦˢ ʳᵉᶠᵉʳᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᵗʰᵉᶦʳ ᶠᵃᶜᵉˢ ᶠᵘˡˡʸ ᵛᶦˢᶦᵇˡᵉ.

The Spirit Keeper

-Premise- I am going to try so. hard. to summarize. (TW: Side character death(s)) When the sky turns red, all of Hisui falls into anarchy and chaos. The hero that Sinnoh sent to protect them was banished from Jubilife and never seen again- Whisked back to the present, to spare them from the calamity to follow.

Amidst the destruction caused by the worsening space-time distortions, after the deaths of too many to count, Ingo finds himself praying to a god that wasn't his atop the Shrouded Ruins that overlook the now erased Diamond Clan encampment. He offers a plea to Sinnoh, of Pearl, Diamond, both or neither, if there is anything they can do to prevent this tragedy from wiping the region away.

Sinnoh is displeased with the fighting of the clans, of the hostility between factions, and the cold betrayal of the hero it had chosen. It will not simply wipe the slate clean, after the callous actions of the Hisuian people- After their rejection of its help. However, Ingo is a brave and compassionate soul. In this moment and throughout his time in Hisui, he has never displayed these spiteful behaviors.

In exchange for a duty, those lost will be revived, that broken can be rebuilt, and this region can turn a new leaf. The stones around him bear representation of his new duty. He must collect them from all across the region- Any soul he is able to secure, protect from the distortions that would eradicate them, will be given a second chance once the calamity passes. The final condition is that, once those souls meet their second death, he must seek them out to contain them again. A punishment, a time to reflect on their actions. Once Sinnoh deems it enough, then they will be released to the afterlife and Ingo will be released from this duty.

Ingo agrees to all of these terms. And so he seeks out the souls of the fallen- Unceasingly and desperately saving every single person, and with the combined power of their lives he withstands the shattering sky.

They are reincarnated. They rebuild. The nobles have fallen, and there is much damage to undo. They may live their lives once again.

But when they fall, Ingo will return. He will collect them, and he will keep them. He will fulfill the full breadth of his agreement- No matter how many centuries pass.

-Noteworthy Points- Yes. That was me summarizing. This story is so complicated and has so many layers please understand.

Ingo is functionally a Spiritomb, Ghost and Dark type, with the combined life force of 442 souls. This makes him functionally immortal, with a supernaturally fast healing capacity and a very difficult-to-contain level of power. He can hear the thoughts of all 442 people and often manifests them in the form of little green soul orbs. Not all of them are happy with this arrangement, but some people get used to it faster than others. They are fully aware, under no strain, and are not hurt. Essentially, forcibly travelling with Ingo is their sort of limbo- It's not all bad.

Ingo unfortunately cannot say the same, it is extremely rough to be the container for so many lives and still keep oneself sane. His willpower is overwhelming, and it's the only reason Sinnoh made this 'deal' to begin with- Because it knew Ingo would be the only one capable of this sort of thing without bias or prejudice. The calamity is solved, Hisui is preserved, the people get a reasonable amount of mercy (then comeuppance,) and Ingo can be- slowly -returned to his own time period. It is not easy burden, but it will be borne. Now, all that's left is to wait.

(Forgot to mention, the reference on the far right- Spirit Farer Emmet -is a sort of branch in the timeline. It's not the canon way the AU goes, but a friend made it up and I liked it enough to keep it :> The concept is that Emmet also makes a deal with Arceus and basically helps ferry Ingo's many souls over to the afterlife, thus releasing him from his duty. Won't elaborate more, this post is already like 4x the length of all the others.)

If it wasn't obvious, this is one of my favorite main AUs and also one of the oldest

-Links- Artwork - Commission by Fronomeeps Artwork - Fanart by Pixelga1axy Artwork - Fanart by Rudeboimonster Short Comic - Being haunted by yourself

[thepapernautilus]

the fact that the crystal exarch is the entire reason the night's blessed even worship the warriors of darkness + bringer of shadow and he traveled the breadth of norvrandt spreading their gospel like a disciple has me feeling EXTREMELY normal

[splatsvilles-fashionista]

Off-topic weekend: My top five games of 2023!

Hey folks! How's Splatfest going? I've had mixed success so far, winning two 10x battles but losing a 100x, which evens out, right?

But let's not focus on that, this is the off-topic post of the month, after all. In 2023 I played an unusual amount of brand-new games, and I like talking about the stuff I like, so let's real quick go over my favourite games of the year, in order!

Starting with:

5. Wildfrost

Wildfrost is a roguelike deckbuilder about disparate tribes banding together to fight off a supernatural, eternal snowstorm. Over the course of three areas and many battles you assemble a deck of allies and items, augment them with upgrades, and face off against a whole slew of unique and challenging boss battles. The thing I wanna highlight about this game is just how gorgeous the presentation is. All the character designs are delightful, and the way everything bobs and shakes as you pick cards to play or reposition feels just right. The soundtrack is also a complete slam dunk, using a ton of traditional instruments to help sell the vibes, whether they're cosy like in your hubtown or intense like the battle themes. If you like games like Slay the Spire or Monster Train then this is definitively a game for you.

4. Cocoon

Cocoon is a puzzle game about exploring alien landscapes with tools that are also full-on worlds in themselves. As a little... alien? Moth? Robot? As a little guy, you're tasked with solving a wide variety of puzzles by using differently colored orbs that, when placed on certain pedestals in the environment, opens up portals to entire new realms. Nestling realities within other realities and traveling between them soon becomes a core facet of your problem-solving, and the beauty of Cocoon is that its puzzles thread this extremely thin line where the solution is neither too hard or easy, but will always be very satisfying and frequently mindblowing in the way it makes you bend reality(or realities as the case may be) to your whims. Cocoon is lean, slim, and polished, and likely won't last you more than ten hours, but those ten hours will leave you feeling a smart and satisfied in a way you've never experienced before.

3. Remnant II

In 2019, Remnant: From the Ashes asked a bold question: "What if Dark Souls, but guns?" The answer turned out to be that you got a fun, interesting third-person shooter with defensive play inspired by Fromsoftware's lineage of action RPGs but with a greater emphasis on co-op play and replayability, and in 2023, that game got a sequel that looked to expand on all of its predecessor's most interesting ideas. One of the most impressive things about remnant II is just how much content it has that it doesn't show you, because it's designed around the core idea that every player's first playthrough feels different and so it only shows you a sliver of its hand in every playthrough, confident in its breadth of content to such an extend that the game let's you roll an entire new randomized campaign with a single press of a button. I'll admit that out of everything on this list, Remnant II is probably the most "by-the-numbers" game on this list, in part by virtue of being the only sequel on it, but I had a blast playing this game, and if you're looking for something to play with a friend or two, then I think you will too.

2. Cassette Beasts

Cassette Beasts is a creature-collector RPG in the style of Pokémon, and I actually already wrote a whole post about Cassette Beasts earlier this year, but I want to reiterate that this game is really good. In a lot of ways, it feels like Bytten Studios, the developers of Cassette Beasts, took the formula of the DS-era Pokémon games and utterly perfected it. It's got a big open world for you to explore, deep and snappy 2v2 combat, over 120 monsters, all of which can be fused mid-combat as the ace up your sleeve. Rather than type weaknesses just increasing damage, they inflict various buffs/debuffs that add a lot of complication to battles and force you really consider your team composition. There's adjustable difficulty, including a built-in nuzlocke mode. There a bunch of cool companion characters with their own entire storylines, and most of them you can romance if you'd like. If you like Pokémon or the whole creature-collector RPG genre as a whole, then you need to play Cassette Beasts, because at the moment I really do think it's the king of the genre.

1. Lies of P

Lies of P is an action RPG of the Soulslike variety, taking a stab at replicating the formula that made Fromsoftware and their critically renowned games such a household name. I like Fromsoftware and their games lot, Bloodborne, Dark Souls 3, Sekiro, and Elden Ring are all pretty high on my list of favourite games of all time for their excellent world design, wonderful atmosphere, and captivating combat. I mention all of this so that you understand that it's a big deal when I say Lies of P is so good that it sometimes beats Fromsoftware at their own game.

It's not a game without flaws. I found the english localization to be awkward and stilted, sometimes to the point of being distracting, and its level design is very simple, especially compared to its peers. What sets Lies of P apart however is that it has the best goddamn combat in the genre. Explaining why I think that would take a lot of time, and this post is running long as is, so to keep things short the gist of it is that Lies of P manages to make your offensive and defensive tools flow into each other seamlessly, with dodges, blocks and parries allowing you to keep up the pressure even as enemies are attacking. Couple that with a ton of different weapons, all with their own special moves, most of which you can take apart and combine with other weapons, and a mechanical left arm that can be equipped with a variety of tools like a flamethrower or a grappling hook, and it results in one of the most nuanced combat systems I've ever seen.

I adore Lies of P. I bought it at the end of December, beat it once, and I am currently doing three more playthroughs with different builds, weapons, and restrictions. I've never enjoyed mastering the systems of a game as much as I have playing Lies of P, and that is ultimately why it's my favourite game of 2023.

And that's the whole list! I hope something I featured here caught your attention, and I'm very curious to know what y'all's favourite games of 2023 were, so go ahead and tell me below, if you'd like. Happy continued FrostyFesting!

[dagaz-s-disastrous-descent]

SLAYERS!

They have to be my favourite part of the dwarven army and the most original and interesting thing that differentiates them from their more classically Tolkien-esque counterparts.

They are dwarfs who swore off their lives to erase a stain from their honour, to atone in death for the sins of the past, no matter how small or grand they were because for warhammer dwarfs honour is all.

What is interesting is that there are three distinct reactions to taking the slayer oath. Some dwarfs fall into depression, shunning away from everyone but fellow slayers and priests of Grimnir, others become happy and extroverted because in death you do not need to worry about society's restraints, and of course there are those slayers like Malakai Makaisson or Snorri Nosebiter who simply go crazy. The only common thing that binds them is their oath, something more than sacred for them, that orders them forward in search of great doom that will send them to the halls of their ancestors.

In one of the Gotrek and Felix books they meet a lich priest of the Tomb Kings, when he was inquired by Jaeger as to why the dwarf helps the undead the priest answers that matters of the dead do not concern the living. He then explains that when Felix is brimming with life to the point of bursting, Gotrek's line of life was already severed which shows that slayer's oath is more than mere words etched in stone.

There are some musings as to why something like the cult of Grimnir exists in dwarfen society. Some claim that is nothing but a natural consequence of how the dwarfen psyche works a sense of honour taken to its most dangerous extreme, others say that it's a release valve for society that lives under constant pressure of expectations, restrictions and traditions, and there is also a third theory posed by Bitter the slayer who said that Grimnir took his axe and marched north because he could not stand constant nagging of his family.

When you look at the whole picture you start to realise how selfish the oath is. You, for your own sense of honour, abandon all you hold dear and seek death in battle, essentially wasting your skills, knowledge and wisdom throwing it all away at the pyre of glory. At the same time there is something tragically romantic about the whole thing, mighty doom seekers traveling the length and breadth of the world, oftentimes accompanied by human or dwarfish remembrancer poets, to find glorious death slaying enemies of order. I can't help but feel sympathetic to those crazy orange crested maniacs.

[woodaba]

We Wouldn't Have Alan Wake II Without Quantum Break

Remember Quantum Break? The first game announced for the Xbox One? The link between cult classic Alan Wake and surprising studio-saving hit Control? That prominently features Lance Reddick, the much-missed actor who was frequently one of the most electric screen presences of our time?

Don't worry, I barely do either, and I played the game yesterday.

So, a refresher. Quantum Break, announced in 2013 alongside the Xbox One and released three years later, is a third-person shooter starring Shawn Ashmore aka Iceman from the X-Men movies as Jack Joyce (and not Jake Joyce as I constantly remembered him as. In my defense, it's a better name, if only because then his superhero name could be Quantum Jake...), who, after being turned into A Remedy Entertainment Protagonist after a time-travel experiment gone wrong, battles against fellow Remedy Entertainment Protagonist Aidan Gillen aka Doctor Pavel I'm CIA as Paul Serene, over what to do about an imminent apocalypse after Time starts Breaking because of the aforementioned time-travel experiment.

As a rehabilitating former Doctor Who obsessive, I'm particularly open to this kind of time-travel nonsense, but Quantum Break is frustratingly unwilling to capitalize on its own premise. Interesting things happen, sure: people get stuck in causality loops, confront and become acausal time monsters, and live entire second lives in the past after time-traveling, but almost none of it occurs to Jack Joyce: he just spends his time just shooting guys in a series of warehouses and offices. Quantum Break is a potentially interesting story that we don't really get to see anything of, instead anything compelling in the narrative is relayed to us second-hand, by the myriad emails and documents scattered throughout the gunfights, or over the radio, and, of course, Remedy's now-signature multimedia ambitions.

In between acts of the video game Quantum Break, you'll be treated to episodes of the TV show Quantum Break, a live-action c-tier circa-2009 network TV production starring some of the big(ish) names that headline the game Quantum Break, but mostly follows a cast of extras who navigate around the events of the game while working for baddie Paul Serene's Evil Corporation, Monarch.

It's in the TV show that what Quantum Break actually is begins to take shape. Remedy, as a studio, has always been interested - and unusually adept at - pastiche, whether it's the noir comic stylings of their still-astonishing Max Payne duology or the rickety but deeply charming Stephen King love-in that is Alan Wake. And here, they do a genuinely stellar job at replicating the look, feel, and sensibilities of a 2008-2013 network TV Lost/Fringe rip-off that gets canceled after one season.

That may sound backhanded, but I assure you it isn't. I've long been a fan of Remedy, in spite of, or perhaps because I don't think they've made a truly great game since Max Payne 2. In a medium that often pillages relentlessly from Film and TV, Remedy set themselves apart from their competition with the depth of their understanding of the production of film, bringing into games a deftness of set construction and filmic pacing that blows their contemporaries out of the water. Even more-lauded names like Naughty Dog and Rockstar come up short against Alan Wake's hauntingly gorgeous misty woods, best illustrated with Rockstar's Max Payne 3, which matched Remedy's cinematographical flair in the cutscenes, but fell far short of their level design chops and breadth of influences.

Quantum Break is, in aesthetics and production, a genuinely extremely well-considered pastiche of this period of sci-fi television that is now comfortably in the rear-view mirror, the time since its release having given it a real nostalgic charm that would have been dulled at the time of release. It really reminded me of the years I spent watching shows like Heroes, or Flash/Forward, shows that may not have been very good, but are intoxicatingly emblematic of their time and place, hiding just beneath the floorboards of the shows that would actually get to be remembered.

It's a shame, then, that it just fails to really compel on any level beyond appreciation for the pastiche.

Much like the gameplay, the TV episodes of Quantum Break feel almost ancillary to another, better story that we never get to see. The stars of the game feel wasted here - particularly Lance Reddick, one of my favorite actors, who steals the show every time he appears, but is given vanishingly little to do in comparison with a group of wafer-thin characters that struggle to manifest a single dimension, with relational at best connection to the concerns of the narrative. It looks like a particularly budget-strapped episode of Warehouse 13, sure, but it doesn't really feel like one, as the episodes - until the last one, which is a noticeable improvement - are shockingly paceless and devoid of the arcs that would make a singular episode of television compelling. They are, ultimately, primarily dreary, overlong, and constantly highlighting the fact that they are largely interstitial filler.

It would be wrong to accuse Remedy of not having their heart in Quantum Break, as there is too much evident passion to discount, but I do feel like they struggle to find a core to this idea, something that they truly want to explore. Whether I'm playing the game or watching the show, QB leaves everything on the surface, with nothing to really find beneath the surface. It's notable that the game is absolutely filled with constant allusions to Alan Wake - including a full-blown trailer found on a TV moments after starting the game that bears startling resemblance to the eventual plot of this year's Alan Wake II - and that the game started life as a pitch to Microsoft for Alan Wake II: one suspects that they would much rather be making that game at this moment in time than Quantum Break, or that the game is a test-bed of ideas for the studio's future, the act of throwing a thousand darts at a quantum dartboard, and seeing which ones find their mark. It's just that for this effort, precious few of them do.

And yet, the surprise is that by the end, I truly felt like Remedy was genuinely onto something with the spirit of Quantum Break's ideas, if not the execution of them. The television show is the thing that makes Quantum Break live, that marks it out as something worth remembering in a sea of slick third-person shooters with cinematic ambitions. It is the icon of the foundational belief of the Xbox One, that the future of games lay in a synthesis with television, a dead-end future that had already worn out by the time the game was actually released. What remains is little more than a gimmick, sure, but it is one that, by the end, is oddly compelling, even if most of it is terrifically boring to actually experience.

There is a genuine thrill to seeing characters in both video game graphics and live-action forms, shifting between the two seamlessly thanks to some genuinely well-realized digitized actors that still look good today, a shift that blends well with the time-space bending of the plot. Do I care about Jack Joyce, as a person? Not even slightly. Did I still grin when I saw Actual Shawn Ashmore briefly appear in the TV episodes after controlling Virtual Shawn Ashmore? Absolutely. It's the same kind of shallow thrill you get from Cheers allumni showing up for a visit in Frasier, or when the Torchwood crew talk around the presence of Mr. Doctor Who, Esq, but as something that works with what the game is doing rather than distracting your attention elsewhere.

The gameplay portions represent time breaking down with (genuinely cool, if shallow) shards of space and glass and stuttering loops of physical time, but the collision of the Real and the Virtual feels so much more effective in communicating the idea of time and space shattering and colliding into one another. I just wish it played in this space more, focusing on Ashmore, Reddick, Monaghan, and Hope, rather than the cast of goons and extras who feel wholly separated from the game until the final mission.

I'd like to say that I'd love Remedy to take another crack at this idea, with the lessons they've learned from Control and Alan Wake II, but that already feels like a fool's hope. The ballooning costs of video game development make the idea of filming an entire TV mini-series alongside it feel laughable. Sure, Control's live-action segments were plentiful and superbly produced, but they were also far more restrained than Quantum Break, focusing on short segments with one non-big-name actor each in a couple of highly reusable sets. With both this and its open-world, side-questing structure with plenty of loot and upgrades to collect, Control is something largely in line with the realities and productions of modern game development

Quantum Break isn't rooted in reality for even a second. It's a time-locked instant, the most 2015 game ever made, which makes it all the better that it came out in 2016. There's no future in what Quantum Break envisions. It's a failed experiment, something to shrug at and move on. And yet, it compels me regardless, despite the fact that I don't really like it.

We need games like this, I feel. Historical curios like this show that the shifting landscape of the medium isn't a straight line, it splits off into splintered fraying timelines, some leading to nothing, but others spilling back in unexpected ways. After all, Courtney Hope, who played Beth Wilder here, returned for the starring role in Control, and that game feels so keenly like the product of lessons learned from QB, with everything from the live-action segments, the document-reading, and the combat feeling like a progression from Remedy's previous work. In particular, my complaints about QB's narrative taking place almost entirely off-screen evolves into a hugely compelling aspect of Control, with the genuine highlight of that game being reading the endless documents detailing the horrors and nightmares of America transcribed into corporate mundanity.

And while I've only played a taster of Alan Wake II, there's no doubt in my mind that that game, a bona-fide critical darling the likes of which Remedy hasn't had since Max Payne 2, owes a great debt to QB. Not least because its engine provides the framework for the game, but also because, well, it's been in there, this whole time.

Waiting for The Return.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Hejira

by Joni Mitchell

I'm traveling in some vehicle I'm sitting in some cafe A defector from the petty wars That shell shock love away There's comfort in melancholy When there's no need to explain It's just as natural as the weather In this moody sky today In our possessive coupling So much could not be expressed So now I'm returning to myself These things that you and I suppressed I see something of myself in everyone Just at this moment of the world As snow gathers like bolts of lace Waltzing on a ballroom girl You know it never has been easy Whether you do or you do not resign Whether you travel the breadth of extremities Or stick to some straighter line Now here's a man and a woman sitting on a rock They're either going to thaw out or freeze Listen Strains of Benny Goodman Coming through the snow and the pinewood trees I'm porous with travel fever But you know I'm so glad to be on my own Still somehow the slightest touch of a stranger Can set up trembling in my bones I know no one's going to show me everything We all come and go unknown Each so deep and superficial Between the forceps and the stone Well I looked at the granite markers Those tribute to finality to eternity And then I looked at myself here Chicken scratching for my immortality In the church they light the candles And the wax rolls down like tears There's the hope and the hopelessness I've witnessed thirty years We're only particles of change I know I know Orbiting around the sun But how can I have that point of view When I'm always bound and tied to someone White flags of winter chimneys Waving truce against the moon In the mirrors of a modern bank From the window of a hotel room I'm traveling in some vehicle I'm sitting in some cafe A defector from the petty wars Until love sucks me back that way

© March 19, 1976; Crazy Crow Music (as "Traveler"), renewed November 5, 1976 with additional lyrics (as "Hejira")

[what-the-flux]

Asura Appreciation Week Day 1 - OC Talk!

I cannot start off this week without talking about my man, the myth, the legend and my main for so many years, Oort the Truncheon! (and also the old namesake of this blog). Here is an (extremely simplified) history lesson (big post incoming and no read more EXPOSITION OR DIE): Born and raised in the outskirts of Rata Sum as an only progeny, his parents were prestigious researchers and scholars and were overachievers, accepting nothing less from their son. He had the best education possible and was accepted into the College of Dynamics, but he had become disillusioned with the whole system and asuran society in general and had no interest in being stuck in a lab or as he put it "a toady to the witless." He was always brilliant at metallurgy, fabrication and golemetric construction but he cared little for his studies as college wore on and he became unruly and a hard student to handle for his professors and his parents. He switched majors to Statics, coasted through before eventually dropping out right before he could graduate. His relationships with his parents and faculty and many of his peers shattered, he took up residence in the Undercube for a time and made a name for himself as a laborer and blacksmith, albeit with a foul and dangerous temper so had few friends. He ended up getting mixed up with a mysterious asura that won his trust before eventually blackmailing him and framing him for crimes she had been committing and revealing herself to be Inquest to boot. He ended up serving a stint in prison in Peacemaker HQ as a result.

Once out of the clink, Oort wasted no time in distancing himself from Rata Sum. Carrying not much more than his toolkit, a warhammer he forged himself and the clothes on his back he struck out for one of the furthest places away from Metrica he could manage: Hoelbrak. There he at least got along with more norn than he ever did with fellow asura and met who would become one of his closest friends and adventuring buddies. They traveled the length and breadth of the Shiverpeaks, Ascalon, the Steamspurs and the coastline of the Sea of Sorrows. She eventually joined the Priory, he the Vigil. Oort at this point had a bit of a reputation as being a competent but ruthless adventurer and his superiors were nervous he'd be a loose cannon but he quickly proved his mettle and reliability (though still hotheaded and with a habit of back talking), eventually earning the title of Warmaster. Though he himself is not the Pact Commander, he was present at all of the major campaigns and events that would transpire right before and after the forming of the Pact: Claw Island, the assault on Orr, the Fall of Zhaitan.

Over time and through the war in Maguuma, Warmaster Oort was renowned for his unwavering courage, ferocity, tactical mind and uncanny ability to survive things that would fell lesser individuals. Despite the conflicts and death and harrowing life he lead, he had time to fall for a powerful necromancer and would eventually marry, though sadly this relationship would also end badly for him later on. He would continue to serve in the Vigil with the events of Path of Fire into the Crystal Desert, collecting kills, scars and world weariness as he went. It wasn't until his worst near-death experience during the fight with Kralkatorrik in Thunderhead Keep and being buried under rubble and knocked into a coma for a week where he started to seriously evaluate the direction his life was taking. After Dragonfall, he declared he'd be going into semi-retirement from the Vigil.

This marked another low point for him. His wife had up and left, finding new ventures in an enclave in the Mists. He, knowing only conflict and battle now and being constantly on the move, was adjusting badly to a more peaceful life. He struggled for a time with the monumental trauma he had been carrying for so long but with the support of his new partners and the friends he had made over the years (whether he realized this or not), he would pick up the pieces of his broken self and built a homestead in Timberline Falls and find new purpose as a grandmaster weaponsmith and metallurgist, the passions he's had for his entire life finally realized.

That being said, his story is far from over. He still goes out and helps his partners Penny and Jaxxu with missions abroad, and he's been known to be convinced to help adventurers with especially dangerous ventures. And who knows what direction SotO will take and what sort of involvement he'll be in? (for those of you who read all this and stuck to the end, thank you so much for letting me ramble about one of my favorite and nuanced characters I've ever made.)

[adventuressclubamericas]

Adventuresses We Love – Sarah Marquis Many of us like to walk or hike, be it for exercise or just for fun. Adventuress Sarah Marquis, though, takes it one step beyond.

In 2010, Marquis set out for a walk like no other. She began her trek in Siberia then headed south, pulling a cart with her clothes, equipment and supplies behind her. She’d battle sandstorms, mudslides, and extreme weather along the way, and that wasn’t all.

One night, camping in the Gobi Desert, she found her tent surrounded by howling wolves. The experience left her feeling a “sense of belonging to the planet.” This was in addition to the regular visits by drunken Mongolian horsemen.

In the southern Gobi, Marquis was forced to leave the trail to seek treatment for a periodontal infection. Once that was cleared up, she returned to the exact spot she’d left off, and continued on.

Crossing into China presented its own challenges. Here, Marquis traveled disguised as a man, because “…any woman alone is considered a prostitute.”

In Laos, her life was threatened both by dengue fever, and by gun-wielding drug lords who attacked her camp. She survived both. Finally, she arrived at the coast of Thailand. Here, she caught a ride on a cargo vessel and made her way to Australia.

Where she started walking again.

She would cross the breadth of Australia. After 1,000 days, 10,000 miles, and 3,000 cups of tea, this journey would end under a specific tree she’d picked out 10 years earlier. For this feat, she was named the 2014 National Geographic Explorer of the Year.

As amazing as this journey was, it’s only one of Marquis’ many adventures – and she’s still adventuring today. To learn more, visit https://www.sarahmarquis.com/

[pyrrhiccomedy]

Hi! Followup question, how knowledgeable Hi! Followup question: Is Bellefleur knowledgeable about human politics and the world in general? Or is her knowledge roughly the same as Bastian's. Like does she know that South America exists. Is there anything of our world that would surprise her (i love her so much i wanna hear her opinions on anything. would she like an elephant)

Bellefleur is extremely well-traveled and extremely learned. Before she met Bastian, she wandered the infinite breadth of the Wood for seasons of seasons. She's never seen an elephant, but I'm sure she's heard of them (and she'd be delighted to make one's acquaintance). She knows that there are secret continents undreamt-of by the Frenchmen she's surrounded by. Her readings of the stars have revealed to her that the terrestrial gates to Fort Baldomera, the Tower of Delight, and Hollywall all lie beneath strange skies, after all.

She doesn't know any details about the cultures that live in those places; she didn't know about the cultures of Europe, either, until she and the Baron began regularly kidnapping Germans and Frenchmen from their manse in the Black Forest. I think she'd find pretty much any human civilization equally diverting and strange.

Innokenti (her kinsman from La Delenda) is a better example of what a 'typical fairy' would know. He didn't know which way Spain was from France, when he first got here, and thought vomiting was a figure of speech. The syrups our kind are filled with are marvelous and disgusting to him. He finds the curse of Babel laid across us tiresome. Poverty is fascinating, and children are a marvel. It's a pity you almost never want to play.

[i-u-a]

IUA-1 : The Stick Figure

IUA-1 is a black almost opaque gelatinous humanoid figure who's body segments are narrow and cylindrical with uniform breadth throughout except for the "hands", "feet" and other extremities which taper to a point much like an animal's tail.

In this way it much resembles a childish drawing of a stick figure however its head is a single vertical shaft with a tapering shaft protruding forwards from the centre to for a kind of proboscis and two long tapering rods at the top of its head that curve backwards due to their weight giving the resemblance of horns though as they gelatinous they seem more like ears in the way they sway as IUA-1 moves around.

IUA-1 wears an orange jumpsuit with a white inner lining though the top part is unzipped and tied around the waist to act as a belt probably the pants would never hold by themselves to IUA-1's narrow frame.

IUA-1 was found wandering around aimlessly within the New York state IUA facility having seemingly lost its way and it calmly approached security staff tapping an officer gently on the shoulder to get their attention.

The officer took one look, immediately ran back into a corner and called for his partner who likewise turned around and saw IUA-1 and equally ran into the corner to meet up with the other officer.

IUA-1 attempted to communicate with the officers telling them to calm down using body language and gestures but was seemingly unable to communicate verbally.

The officers ordered commands to IUA-1 but IUA-1 seemed confused and tried to express that.

After a bit of back and forth that went nowhere the officers resorted to showing IUA-1 what to do using hand gestures to which IUA-1 was able to communicate that they understood.

The officers lead IUA-1 to a containment room where it patiently waited for the science staff's arrival.

Communicating with IUA-1 through a large glass window an in-house linguist first tried to use various forms of sign language in an attempt to find a language which IUA-1 understood but this just resulted in IUA-1's confusion.

Next they tried verbal communication using various common languages but equally IUA-1 seemed not to understand this at all.

By this point some rudimentary form of communication had been established by using commonly understood human body language and gestures but that was seemingly all we'd be able to use here.

The linguist suggested giving IUA-1 some writing tools to see if it would help them better understand so a touch tablet device was given to IUA-1 so that staff may be able to communicate with it.

IUA-1 immediately started trying to surpass the lock features on the tablet but was unable to get past the devices security thus showing that IUA-1 has a rather advanced level of technical intelligence which might explain how they were able slip by our security systems.

The linguist began communicating using drawings asking how IUA-1 had entered the facility by drawing IUA-1 entering the facility and a rudimentary drawing of a confused human face.

IUA-1 communicated back at a rather rapid pace drawing out that they had entered via the sewers after wandering through a wooded area and travelling up through the waste pipe exit it found there.

IUA-1 explained that they were shy about their nudity when around other humanoid figures and so had taken a jumpsuit from the sewer worker's offices.

In the process they learned that humans dislike the smell of the sewers though IUA-1 didn't feel the same about it thus on arrival to the facility they showered themselves before exploring further.

This confused IUA staff as IUA-1 had only said that they had used normal soap to clean and the smell should have at least clung to the jumpsuit even if IUA-1 had cleaned it like they said.

Trying to ask about this aspect proved difficult to communicate so IUA staff just decided to let it slip for now and instead turn their questioning more towards IUA-1's origin but it was at this point that IUA-1's drawings started to become more abstract and hard to understand so the staff instead asked IUA-1 about what they are to which IUA-1 compared itself to a flatworm.

Attempts were made to probe deeper into the make-up of IUA-1 but IUA-1 didn't seem to understand concepts such as biology, chemical make-up or atoms.

Staff asked IUA-1 if there were more like itself and IUA-1 through illustrations of recursion showed that there were at least tens of thousands of them that were currently living on the planet Earth and that they also inhabited a seemingly endless tunnel network that's entrances could be found all over the planet though IUA-1 in particular had originally found their way to Earth using the cave networks within Minnesota though due to their narrow frame and gelatinous structure they were able to slip through cracks that ran for miles that are far too narrow for human exploration.

At this point IUA-1 requested a bath of water to sleep in and IUA staff approved this request and told IUA-1 to wait for it.

IUA-1 then took the initiative in attempting to communicate back trying to teach basic part of its own written language by drawing symbols next to objects much like how a child would learn a language.

Unfortunately it wasn't very helpful as repeating the same symbol with certain objects much like a picture book might use the letter a for both apple and arm for example didn't exactly work when in IUA-1's native language the words that began with the same letter didn't line up with the same pattern of any known human language.

Instead staff told IUA-1 to write the word out in full and IUA-1 complied with this request.

They first started with words that relate to cave features and then moved on to plant and animal life.

Linguists noted everything down but unfortunately other than the exact examples IUA-1 had given nobody was able to decipher the language later other than how onomatopes form which shows that despite being mute IUA-1 was fully able to hear sounds.

IUA-1 was given a large bathtub full of cold water as requested with IUA staff making sure to give them a sealed body of water rather than anything connected to the pipes which they theorised IUA-1 might use to escape through.

IUA-1 seemed very happy with the bath and told staff not to look while they undressed and bathed.

IUA staff turned off the lights outside of the confinement room so that the large window would appear as a mirror to IUA-1 and watched as IUA-1 stripped and curled up asleep at the bottom of the bath.

The staff was glad that IUA-1 didn't understand that they were still being watched as they really didn't know what IUA-1 was capable of and thought it best to keep it under surveillance.

IUA-1 slept for an entire 56 hours before waking up rather quickly and getting dressed.

IUA staff by this point had stopped checking up on IUA-1 physically and though they were alerted by motion detecting cameras that IUA-1 was up and moving they were in no rush to go meet with it.

IUA-1 became bored and started doodling on the tablet in its room.

These drawings were more simplistic than normal and seemed to depict IUA-1 fighting a similar looking creature to itself though it lacked the horns on its head.

IUA-1 had written onomatopes for explosive sounds every time IUA-1 delivered a kick or a punch.

it seemed to depict a creature like IUA-1 but with something different between the legs being captured by the hornless one and IUA-1 saving the other horned creature and then entangling itself with them.

When IUA-1 heard IUA staff approaching they quickly erased the images but the entire process had already been recorded on IUA servers.

When asked about the drawings IUA-1 looked embarrassed and told IUA staff not to look at it.

The linguist said it was too late for that but they'd be sure not to let the other staff see this being a lie but one that would allow for future communication.

The linguist asked about the two different creatures that IUA-1 had depicted in their story and IUA-1 explained that the one that resembled itself was one that it had deep feelings for as it hugged itself gleefully and that the one without the horns didn't really exist and was considered in its culture to be a kind of generic evil.

IUA-1 then started expressing feelings that amounted to homesickness and asked to be let out of their enclosure.

IUA staff said that they could be let out soon after IUA-1 helped them with a few tests.

IUA-1 seemed suspicious at this response but agreed to do so anyway.

Testers entered IUA-1's enclosure and started performing tests aimed to discover exactly what IUA-1 was made of.

It wasn't long before IUA-1 refused to comply flattening down against the back of its head by using one hand and pointing at the testing staff with the other.

It's unclear what this gesture meant but it seems to be some sort of accusation or curse word.

Testers expressed concerns about IUA-1's behaviour as they were worried that IUA-1 may turn violent if testing was allowed to proceed so security staff were sent to IUA-1's enclosure to ensure IUA-1 complied with the testing.

As security forces entered the room IUA-1 panicked and started looking for an exit trying to keep their distance from security staff.

Eventually they realised there was no escape and seemed to calm down then they turned to face the exit and squatted down.

Security took this as a sign of submission but as they advanced further into the room IUA-1 charged at them dodgy left and right to avoid being shot and slipped through the crowd knocking a couple of officers off their feet in the process.

IUA-1 ran down the corridor and turned the corner faster than security officers had time to react so now it was up to camera operators to track IUA-1's movements.

IUA-1 started running through the facility in a random pattern and it became obvious that they had completely lost their way.

Eventually getting stuck in the currently empty cafeteria they could hear security forces approaching on all sides so they sat in the middle of the room appearing to beg to no-one but just then the escapee from the first addendum appeared before them and IUA-1 leaped into their arms and hugged them before the pair of them vanished.

From this we can conclude that our old friend was known to them and this is just my opinion but it almost seems like he's some sort of leader figure to them that i would equate to being a god in their eyes as it seems to me that IUA-1 exaggerated begging is not that dissimilar to the way in which some people pray.

I'm not saying that I personally believe that our old friend is a god of sorts but maybe they somehow encountered IUA-1's people and were able to convince them of it.

Of course this being the first time our old friend has appeared since the events of their escape it has caused staff to unwittingly speak their name and this has resulted in the loss of certain staff members including the linguist who communicated with IUA-1 earlier.

The linguist's behaviour since IUA-1's escape had become increasingly unusual and it appears as though despite all communications between them and IUA-1 being on record there was some information they were holding from us which maybe they as a linguist were able to gleam from events which other IUA staff were unable to.

Sadly, whatever it was they understood has been lost to us since their departure as no other linguists that have been brought in since have been able to read anything new from the records of the events.

Of course, for their own safety the appearance of the previously escaped item and its interaction with IUA-1 has been removed from any footage that is not kept with the highest level of secrecy.

I think myself lucky to be allowed to see the original ending to the security tapes something that is no doubt the product of my ability to explain situations in a way that reveals as little information as possible while still being informative.

And I hope that from here on in my placement in this company will go from strength to strength.

[deandoesthingstome]

My favorite fic of yours? That's a head-to-head race!

Travel the breadth of extremities. Or the Walter chapters in Fantasy Hotel. Or Walk With Me?? Help!! I love all three so much. The rest, too.

But since I can only choose one, Geralt it is! 💘

Maja this is without a doubt the biggest surprise for me.

How is Walter not top of the list here???

It's okay, it's okay. Branching out is good and I'm so glad my Geralt is a top pick for you. I like him a lot, too!

Thank you kind friend!

[dustedmagazine]

Michael Tau — Extreme Music: From Silence to Noise and Everything in Between (Feral House)

One of the best and most interesting things about Michael Tau’s new overview/catalog/traveller’s guide Extreme Music: From Silence to Noise and Everything in Between is that you would be equally justified in calling it Extreme Musics. As that subtitle tries to sum up, Tau isn’t playing favourites with one particular kind of extremity, but instead trying to give the reader a tour through the various ways many people over the years and decades have gone outside what is usually considered pleasurable or worthwhile music, or even music at all. Often works like this are put together either by the already hopelessly devoted (which risks stranding all but fellow travellers) or those approaching the exercise with a kind of patrician disdain. Tau succeeds by adopting neither pose; he’s not afraid to ask “who, exactly, likes this stuff?” but crucially he’s actually invested in figuring out the answer to that question.

Extreme Music is divided into seven sections: Extreme Scenes (devoted to extremity of sound and content), Extreme Durations (in either direction), Extreme Records (interesting LP and, let’s say, LP-aping formats), Technological Quirks (various other formats and technologies), Extreme Packaging (including packaging taken to the extent it changes or hampers the music itself), Recordings? (going even further in that direction, with silent, damaged, and unplayable records), and The Digital Age (which considers some more recent/innovative formats and scenes, and includes a series of profiles of recent outsider artists). As you might expect from that breadth, the book is more interested in seeking out exemplars, histories, and boundaries than in going too deep in any area, but one of Tau’s other strengths is that he’s quite good at giving brief but surprisingly deep readings of particular scenes and sounds. There might only be around ten pages devoted to, say, harsh noise wall records or music on floppy discs or disgusting packaging, but each section sticks with you. Throughout there are occasional sidebars listing Tau’s picks (sometimes sourced by genre artists and experts) for introductory canons to some of the types of music discussed wherein. 

Almost by definition, most people who will wind up reading Extreme Music will be more interested in reading about these types of music than in getting deeply into all of the various types Tau covers. But as mentioned, Tau takes the devotion small groups of people have to each type he covers here seriously, conducting plenty of interviews with artists, label heads, etc. and when he doesn’t himself feel visceral attraction to a type of extreme music giving a good faith effort to represent the reasonings and experiences of those who do. Especially once Extreme Music starts getting into less… hearable forms of music (a vinyl LP you play by rubbing dirt on it, conceptual pieces that exist in both the experimental music and fine art spaces, deliberately damaged media, and so on) the book also does a solid job of explicating the reasons one might want to make music that isn’t “really” music, for any readers who don’t already feel the pull. 

Ultimately Extreme Music is an impressive and fascinating work of documentation and compilation, one where even relatively seasoned (or jaded) music fans are likely to come away with some new fascinating bits of information and music to check out (and/or avoid). The most endearing aspect, of both the book and the music it covers, is the way even the most “extreme” of these musics are ultimately made by people for plenty of ordinary human reasons - to try and make a quick buck, to see if something can even work, to outdo a friend or rival, or just because we all have things we think sound good that make most others wince. Extreme Music doesn’t at all softpedal just how extreme in various directions these forms are (including, sometimes, in ways that range towards the unethical), but it also commendably demystifies these sometimes exoticized forms as what they ultimately are: human forms of artistic and creative expression. 

Ian Mathers

[glamfellens]

Any thoughts on the FNV companions you'd like to share?

sorry i have had to Ruminate on my answers. so!

i think arcade is probably up there as one of my favourite companions. his self-deprecation was very familiar, extremely relatable and funny in a sad sort of way... like king please be more confident in yourself. his general awkwardness is endearing too, like this man really isn't supposed to be trekking the breadth and width of the mojave wasteland but he's potentially here because he thinks the courier is too fucking stupid to survive on their own. LMAO

i found his personal quest really interesting and i personally encouraged him to remain with the followers and step out of his father's shadow and carry on with his life outside of the enclave. i havent played any other fallout games so im not 100% on the context of the enclave and what they did exactly but from what i gathered they were an organisation that did some terrible things, the only reason they're coming back for the battle of Hoover Dam is to attempt to atone for what they did so i just didnt feel as though arcade had any reason to really... stick with them, i guess? it just feels as though they're coming to an end and he was better off elsewhere.

it was so sad when he left....... i really like it as a story choice and i find it really interesting that he was allowed that much character agency... it just felt bittersweet but realistic... :'^)

boone is another favourite...tho i'm not a fan of what happened with carla. having a female character being sold into slavery which ends in her being mercy killed just to further the pain of a male character and challenge him is just like :^| Ok. like i understand that its there to illustrate the brutality of both the mojave wasteland and the legion but i feel as though theres a disproportionate amount of....intimate violence perpetrated against female characters in new vegas in a way that doesn't happen so often to the male characters. idk! anyway

boone is so quiet and harriet isn't a very open person either so i love the idea of the two of them just existing in comfortable silence the entire time theyre travelling around and everyone finds it a little weird but they're perfectly content.

i need to do another playthrough and thinki about the others. i didnt spend much time with raul because i got him kind of late...

oh but i do love ed-e. he's my son. also i wish the concept of benny as a companion hadnt been cut i think that could have been really interesting and it would have been fun to work with him and take new vegas... but alas