#fer forge

[toutplacid]

Grille à l’extrémité de l’avenue Ruysdael, donnant sur la place de Rio-de-Janeiro, Paris 8e – stylo bille 8 couleurs, carnet n° 139, 15 octobre 2023.

[lordgreenmoon]

Le Fer et le Froid - Kosovo'98

Le jeu Le Fer et le Froid est un jeu de rôle d’espionnage, écrit par Khelren et basé sur les mécaniques de Blades in the Dark. On y incarne des agents impliqués sur un théâtre d’opérations. L’agence, ainsi que les personnages sont créés de manière collaborative, lors d’une session 0. Lors de celle-ci, les grandes lignes du théâtre des opérations sont également établies. Dans cet article, je…

[notsoniceguys]

Pergolas - Traditional Deck Inspiration for a mid-sized, traditional deck renovation with a container garden and a pergola

[foodfalls]

Pergolas - Traditional Deck Inspiration for a mid-sized, traditional deck renovation with a container garden and a pergola

[hollywoodumc]

Pergolas - Traditional Deck

Inspiration for a mid-sized, traditional deck renovation with a container garden and a pergola

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

I think my asked is sent to the void and re sending it just in case

For Tamaki, Honey, and Kyoya, when their forging commoner crush give them something handmade for their birthday ( liked a knitted sweater or something nice that can be handcrafted)

Countryside Commoner Reader | Yandere Ouran Host Club

You’ve made your lovely friends something neat for your birthday! A nifty little gift that you were taught to make in your hometown. Too bad a simple token of sweetness to leave these boys addicted to you:

Tamaki Suoh

“Oh my this….marvelous! I’ll wear it every day!” 

“Er maybe not e’ryday it’ll gets dirty won’t it?”

“Nonsense! It was made by you and that automatically makes it the most pure it can ever be!” 

“O–okay.”

Overdramatic as ever Haruhi might convince you he’s joking

He’s not

In private his huffing at the stitching and woven design trying to smell your scent

He doesn’t wear it outside because he fears someone will steal it from him

Not to impede on his ritual of cataloguing whatever cute things you said and did that day in his (Y/n) room, hugging himself while he wears your creation

“A gift from my rose all for me!”

Kyoya Ootori

“I kno it’s nota big spenda gift but I like makin’ gif with ma hands. D-do you like it?”

“...I really appreciate it, (Y/n)  I’ve never been given something made with….so much intent.”

“So uh is that a good thin’ or–?”

“It is a very good thing.” 

As soon as he gets home he immediately puts it in an enlightened glass case

Smiling as he documents the date and audio of your voice

He replays it on repeat as he files his paperwork

Letting himself relish in the uneven tones of your voice

“Only you could make me so pathetic (Y/n). I hope you’ll be ready to pay when you’re mine.”

Mitskuni Haninozuka “Honey”

“Whoa!”

“Happy Birthday made it for ya! I added a lil’ pocket fer candy bits.”

“AAAH! THIS IS THE BEST, (Y/n)!”

Will not put it down for the life of him 

Bragging about it to all that he hosts that day 

Giving it special treatment over Usa-chan

You made it just for him! That solidifies it you really were made for him

You liked making him happy, right?

So much so that you’d want his birthday to be perfect, right?

“Then why don’t you come over! Stay with me forever!”

[mcyt-trios]

PROPAGANDA:

3 Heart Trio:

theyre soo silly theyre just silly little guys who do things like mining an entire chunk in the center of the server's spawn for their own entertainment and to annoy everyone else

They are PATHETIC. They are ANNOYING. They are PERFECT. They are playing on three hearts and they die so much. They have a specialized raid platform that is NOT a raid farm. They are a team against exploits! Their base has 3 hearts above it representing them

these guys decided to put love and fun above all on the killing-lying server. while watching other teams betray and fall apart they have stuck with each other till the very last day of the server and never doubted one another. they worked like a clockwork, they knew they could only rely on themselves and at the end of the day, they didnt mind that it was that way

these guys got the short end of the stick time and time again throughout all of lifesteal s4, they were the targets of so many traps and attacks for no reason other than they were weak and always around. and despite it all they never wanted revenge and never held grudges! they cared about fun and friendship more than anything else, and while all the other teams ended up falling apart or betraying each other, these three stuck together from start to end. they didn't care about how many hearts they had, how much gear they had, or how powerful they were, because in the end all they needed was each other <3 i miss them so bad btw

Witch Coven:

they are sooooooooo theyre 2 competent people + one not as competent person but if u dont clap and cheer fer her theyll blow you up and kill you

They’re from a surpreme witch competition where the goal is to win against everyone melee, yet they managed to forge a friendship regardless of them being competitors! Scott and Cleo are arguably the most powerful of the witches, and they took Elouise, who was super insecure and self depreciated about her own talents and worth under their wings and bolstered her up to her full potential! With their guidance and support she learned to grow more confident in her own abilities leading to her being right up there with the other two as one of the strongest witches! They also formed as a sassy little friend group who snarks and sasses the other witches, especially their, like, “main rival”. So they also just have that *vibe* of this really bad ass group ala mean girls, but less mean to everyone and more focused on their “rivals” and “enemies”. Cleo could literally freeze time for those around her, Scott essentially got the power of a lich, and el could blind people! They are all super powerful, work really well together and are all around a wonderful group! Also the queerness. We love an LGBTQ+ friend group haha

[shortpplfedup]

Ok, so here's where I'm landing:

I myself see two very different interpretations of this episode/arc of the story, and I can't decide which is the right read so I have to let it play out. There is one read of this that feels deliberate, and one that feels a little cracked. (This is separate and apart from the consistently aforementioned storyboarding and editing issues I have with the show that nevertheless aren't affecting my enjoyment).

Here are the facts:

The Pat/Jeng coming together feels rushed and undiscussed.

The cracked read: the narrative is rushing to make up for taking a long time to get here in the first place.

The deliberate read: yes, they have absolutely rushed into this and not discussed things they NEEDED to discuss, because a) Pat has always had issues managing his emotions and he feels very strongly about Jeng, and b) Jeng lost the plot MONTHS ago, has already gradually crossed a million lines, has been waiting so long and just wants to be happy and so is not questioning anything or thinking about anything else beyond being next to, under and on top of Pat.

Jeng is doing a nepotism? Eh?

The cracked read: Jeng wouldn't do this, he can professionally delineate.

The deliberate read: Jeng's hold on professional delineation was slipping for months (SHARED A HOTEL BED!) and dropped completely the minute his lips touched Pat's. He would absolutely do this because a) he is happily dickmatized and also b) Pat proved himself on Forge AND Forge wants him back. Win-win right?

Jeng is ignoring the rumours swirling, and dismissing Pat's concerns.

Now this feels entirely deliberate, I don't think there's really a cracked read on this. Nobody in the bullpen would dare say something to Jeng or where Jeng could hear it. His uncle is the one who can and does bring it up to him, and he considers it but then buries his head in the sand. And then when Pat brings it up, he tries to distract him, then placate him, then put him off. JENG JUST DOESN'T WANT TO THINK ABOUT THIS IN HIS LITTLE PAT BUBBLE. He and Pat have now switched places in the narrative, where Jeng is in denial and Pat is trying to be mature and professional. In the bed at the end when Jeng won't talk about it, Pat is cradling Jeng, he has to take the lead now because Jeng can't.

And at that point, the deliberate read on them rushing into the relationship without seriously considering and discussing it starts to feel like the correct read, because it's having consequences that feel entirely like the correct outgrowth from that. They have not been careful. They have not been discreet. They have been LOST in each other, and this time back in the larger office where everybody can see. Fer fuckssake, the first time they make out is in a kitchen with massive windows anybody can see into, and Jeng dismisses Pat's concerns about being seen by saying he owns the place! Whereas before, while all this was building and they were also being indiscreet, they were in a bubble of queers who protected them by pretending not to see anything and keeping their mouths shut.

But IT'S STILL ENTIRELY POSSIBLE THAT THE CRACKED READ IS CORRECT and this is the pacing mess to end all pacing messes. And at this point I simply don't know. BUT, I remain invested in finding out, so this show still has me until it plays out completely.

[radiofreederry]

L'Internationale (French)

Debout les damnés de la terre Debout les forçats de la faim La raison tonne en son cratère C'est l'éruption de la faim Du passé faisons table rase Foule esclave debout debout Le monde va changer de base Nous ne sommes rien soyons tout

C'est la lutte finale Groupons-nous, et demain, L'Internationale Sera le genre humain C'est la lutte finale Groupons-nous, et demain, L'Internationale Sera le genre humain

Il n'est pas de sauveurs suprêmes Ni Dieu, ni César, ni tribun Producteurs sauvons-nous nous-mêmes Décrétons le salut commun Pour que le voleur rende gorge Pour tirer l'esprit du cachot Soufflons nous-mêmes notre forge Battons le fer quand il est chaud

C'est la lutte finale Groupons-nous, et demain, L'Internationale Sera le genre humain C'est la lutte finale Groupons-nous, et demain, L'Internationale Sera le genre humain

Ouvriers, Paysans, nous sommes Le grand parti des travailleurs La terre n'appartient qu'aux hommes L'oisif ira loger ailleurs Combien de nos chairs se repaissent Mais si les corbeaux, les vautours Un de ces matins disparaissent Le soleil brillera toujours

C'est la lutte finale Groupons-nous, et demain, L'Internationale Sera le genre humain C'est la lutte finale Groupons-nous, et demain, L'Internationale Sera le genre humain

[aedesluminis]

"Summoned by a king who knows no other greatness than the happiness of his people, the representatives of the nation have broken the fetters forged by despotism: feudalism is destroyed, the great work of our regeneration has begun and advances day by day. After having renounced to those privileges, that destroy public prosperity, the provinces want to forget themselves and to blend into the more regular division of departments and districts. These departments, these districts and the smallest portions of the empire will have a similar organisation. The variety of customs, immense source of abuse, will henceforth be replaced by the most exact uniformity in the laws of administration and justice: with such a beautiful order, shall we let the ancient chaos of our measures persist? Is it not about time to remove so many chances of mistakes, frauds and trials? The present moment is all the more appropriate for a general reform of measures, since the newly adopted principles leave prejudices powerless; and since the people, already disposed towards other more important changes, which have broken their habits, would receive with docility an innovation whose great advantages they could themselves feel."

- Claude-Antoine Prieur-Duvernois, "Mémoire sur la nécessité de rendre uniformes dans le royaume toutes les mesures d'étendue et de pesanteur"

Original in French (modern transcription): "Appelés près d’un Roi qui ne connaît de grandeur que la félicité de ses peuples, les représentants de la nation ont brisé les fers qu’avait forgé le despotisme : la féodalité est détruite��; le grand œuvre de notre régénération est commencé, et s’avance de jour en jour ; les provinces, après avoir renoncé à des privilèges destructeurs de la prospérité publique, vont s’oublier et se confondre dans la division plus régulière des départements et des districts ; ces départements, ces districts, et les plus petites portions de l’empire, auront une organisation semblable ; la variété des coutumes, source immense d’abus, sera désormais remplacée, dans toute la France, par l’uniformité la plus exacte dans les lois d’administration et de justice : avec un ordre si beau, laissera-t-on subsister l’ancien chaos de nos mesures ? N’est-il pas temps enfin d’ôter tant d’occasions d’erreurs, de fraudes et de procès ? Le moment actuel est d’autant plus convenable à une réforme générale des mesures, que les principes nouvellement adoptés laissent les préjugés sans force ; et que les peuples, déjà disposés par d’autres changements plus importants, qui ont rompu leurs habitudes, recevraient avec docilité une innovation dont ils pourraient eux-mêmes sentier les grands avantages."

[catt-nuevenor]

Story Setting - Anadora & Abelyn

Extrovert

The ferring draws to a stop outside the grand edifice, the drive hops down from their seat, and the butterflies in my chest begin to flutter once more. Aldmirham feels so very far away.

Their hand finds mine in the dark, and gently threads our finders together.

"Remember to breathe, Darling," Ana/Abe murmurs.

The smile is there in their voice, the shadows of the ferring hide it, but I can still feel its warmth.

"Is it too late to back out?"

They stroke their thumb over my knuckle. "No, not yet. We can go back to my Fæder's if you wish."

Harrold's quiet disappointment presents itself to my mind, the doubt his eyes would hold if I wasted this opportunity after coming so far. That and having to explain to my little one why Ana/Abe and I are back so early.

"No," I sigh, my shoulder's sagging. "Just... help me not make a fool of myself?"

Ana/Abe's gloved hand cups my cheek, turning my head till I can just about find their eyes in the gloom. "You're my guest, it's a part of my duty to see you have a wonderful night. I won't leave your side, I promise."

On our first meeting, in the front room of Erda's shop, fleeting yet fond, I would have never imagined I'd be sat here with them. Not before the grand entrance of Eadoccaburh's Guild Hall, not dressed so finely, the skill and craft of the Weaver's Guild, and what's more, Ana/Abe's father in every stitch.

How the Tíd has turned.

A light tap sounds upon the ferring's roof. Our driver wants our decision. Ana/Abe lifts our joined hands and asks, "Together?"

"Together."

The Guild Hall is neutral ground, a meeting place where all the guild's and traders in the city can meet and discuss business without showing favour to another establishment. It's grand, bold, and hopelessly elaborate, a web of meeting chambers, offices, and archives, wound around a central hall with a single bell tower rising from its heart.

The early Blostma breeze nips at our heels as we descend from the ferring, hurrying us up to the lantern-lit doors, into the waiting gaze of a young man and his list.

He politely asks for our names and the names of the Guilds we represent. I let Ana/Abe do the talking.

"Your Guild Bebeódend is speaking with Freá Dægfinn, at present," the young man explains, giving us each a respectful bow. "They should be towards the southern portion of the hall."

Halfway down the polished corridor beyond, as soon as we are out of earshot, Ana/Abe whispers, "Don't worry, we don't have to attend to any of that. The lad was likely just trying to be helpful."

I let out a heavy sigh. "Good, I don't think I could stomach Guild negotiations right now."

They squeeze my hand. "Nor I, but we're not here on behalf of the Guild, we're here to enjoy our evening."

The corridor ends in a wide stone archway, intricately carved and painted with murals of golden fields and swaying reeds. Our coats and gloves are handed to three arnlings in the liveries of the city, and they scamper into a side-room to be neatly stowed away.

We pass beneath the arch and the gentle swell of music greets us as the narrow corridor gives way to the hall, its expanse and grandeur breathtaking.

There is clearly a division between those doing business and those seeking pleasure, and the split is distinctly uneven. Along the southern edge of the hall, in intimate clusters of pointed shoulders and hunched necks, stand those on task from the guilds. No doubt many a contract and alliance are being forged in their midst, sweetened with the mead and cider of the city.

Along the north, east, and western side of the hall the groupings are freer, the expressions cheerful and bright, the echoes of laughter and chatter a constant bubbling beneath the surface of sweet music coming from the small staging at the centre. Around the stage there is dancing.

Elegant couples sweep and pivot in time to the strings, their feet tapping the shining floor in time to the patter of the drums. It's quite sedate compared to the dances in Aldmirham, but there is far more co-ordination here, everyone is working towards the display entire, the eddy and flow of bodies in sweeping motion.

"Peyton/Peidyn would hate this," I chuckle, half entranced by the twirl of the dancers, guided only by the light tug of Ana/Abe's hand.

"Most likely. As would Louis/Leila. I think Lars would enjoy it, though."

"Perhaps. It is far more his rhythm."

"What of you?" Ana/Abe asks, coming to a stop beside three narrow windows that look over the Guild Hall's gardens.

"Me?"

They bow/curtsy, their beautiful clothes a sweep of midnight blue, flowing about them. "Would you care to dance, my darling?"

I glance over to those already in motion, and the dreary creep of inadequacy taints the sweetness of Ana/Abe's gesture. "I don't think I can dance like that."

"Would you like to?"

I nod, my mind conjuring Ana/Abe and I in place of a particularly dashing couple as they sweep past where we stand.

"Then, if I may?"

Ana/Abe's voice guides me back, and directly into the loving embrace of their arms.

"Everything can be taught, my darling, if a willing teacher can be found."

My throat is dry, my hands damp, and my face burns as my oh so willing teacher begins to mould my posture to the first position with naught but gentle caress.

"Are you sure?" I ask softly, beginning to see the attentions of those around us catch and come to rest upon us.

Ana/Abe hums, lifting my chin with their fingertips until our eyes meet. "Together, remember?"

"I remember."

"Then let us dance together, my darling. I'd wish it no other way."

---

Introvert

I didn't expect Ana/Abe's father to have a garden. The narrow court and close-knit web of workers always conjured up cobbles and bricks when they've talked about it in the past. It's smaller than Peyton/Peidyn's, narrow, the rear cut across by access to the garden of the neighbours.

Ana/Abe's hand is everywhere, in the twist of every vine, the placement of every herb and flower. They haven't been back here in many months, but it's clear their father strictly adheres to their original design for the space. The affection between the pair can only be understood in little pieces like this. It isn't loud and boisterous like that between the Starlings, or snarky and sweet light Lars and Louis/Leila's is. Ana/Abe and their father find their affections in the quiet of the workshop, and the peace of their little garden. It's come to be enough for them.

Harrold treats me kindly, but he's wary, watching my words and actions closely lest I show sign of planning to hurt his daughter/son. I wouldn't, I couldn't, and I hope he's coming to see that. Time and Tíd will tell, I suppose.

"Here," Ana/Abe says, placing a cup into my hands before they take the place on the bench beside me.

"Thank you."

I sip the sweet tisane within, though the detail of it slips away as Ana/Abe leans in close to my side, into an easy intimacy that makes me both sleepy and wonderfully content.

We sip and sit, letting the distant bustle of Eadoccaburh's streets rumble on in the distance, folding ourselves away in the pocket of green behind the house Ana/Abe grew up in.

"I think he likes you," they say after a time, a distant bell chiming over the rooftops to bring in the last hour before sunset.

"Your Fæder?"

Ana/Abe nods.

"How can you tell?"

"He wants to see some of your work. That's an old Guild tradition. If someone isn't worth your time, you don't bother, but if you think they have potential, the first thing you look at is their craft."

"Potential..." I echo, glum. "That's better than nothing, I suppose."

Ana/Abe kisses my cheek. "Even if Fæder never gets beyond that, he'll accept you."

"You sound awfully certain about that."

"I am. He knows how much you matter to me."

Can they feel the heat in my cheeks, I wonder? Their smile does seem awfully knowing...

"I'm glad we came," Ana/Abe says, taking my empty cup and placing it beside theirs on the smooth flagstone beneath the bench. "But I'm looking forward to going back."

My little one misses the cat, I know that much, but I think they've enjoyed seeing a bit more of the city, and they also seem to have utterly charmed Ana/Abe's father. Yet another parental figure to utterly spoil them, as if there weren't enough of those already.

Ana/Abe laughs softly when I share my thoughts, adding their own observations to mine.

"He'll miss us all when we leave," they say, plucking a stray leaf from my shoulder as it settles there from the tree above. "But can always come back here to visit. There's a home here, but it isn't really mine any more."

"Then, do you know where yours is?"

"With you," they say, kissing the corner of my lips fleetingly. "Tíd changes and perhaps that will too, but right now, my darling? I'm happiest when I'm with you."

---

Quick little dictionary for folks on a few of the terms here, since I got a bit more into the stories terminology and lore than I'd planned.

Tíd - Tide Think of it as synonymous with time, but also associated with the sea. Where we might say Time and Tide wait for no one, folks in the Four Shores would say simply Tíd waits for no one. The reasons are a little complicated to go into here, but thems the basics.

Fæder - Father Just reviving some basic Old English here, nothing fancy.

Ferring - Carriage Fully enclosed like you would see in a Jane Austen adaptation but simpler. They're used as a form of road transport within and between the main cities, slower than a horse, but more comfortable.

Blostma - Spring Again no frills to this one.

Bebeódend - ... The simplest explanation I can give for this is that they're the Guild managers. It's their job to keep the members fed, watered, housed, and stop them from coming a foul of any other Guild in the city. Leaders, but with restricted powers.

Freá - Sir/Mr/etc In Eard (the realm in which Myrk Mire takes place) an individual is first introduced with their preferred gender of address. Freá Dægfin is Mr Dægfin, just as Lars would first be introduced to a stranger as Freá Lars, while Vyla would be Freó Vyla, and Pin, a non-binary character from the TBT project, would be introduced as Léof Pin.

I think that's everything, comment if I've missed something, or if you'd like further discussion.

---

Image courtesy of Alessia Cocconi on Unsplash

[deathsplaything]

It's Time for Tea || Alistair & Rhett

LOCATION: High Tea TIMING: Before What If PARTIES: Alistair (@deathsplaything) and Rhett (@ironcladrhett) SUMMARY: Rhett and Alistair decide to go to a high tea to cause some chaos. CONTENT WARNINGS: None

As far as Alistair McKenzie was concerned, gender was a social construct. As soon as the opportunity had presented itself in the form of a fellow unhinged blind man terrorizing fancy old women trying to enjoy a tea party, the necromancer had jumped at the opportunity, dressed in brown corduroy pants and a dark green buttoned shirt with a leaf pattern on it, as well as a pair of heeled ankle boots with dragonflies embroidered on them. Upon his head was a large, black, floppy hat with a dragonfly broach stuck through it. His shoulder-length red hair was half tied up and curled. Clearly, they’d taken a lot of care into their appearance today. In one hand was Brutus’s harness, who was dressed with a navy bowtie on his collar, and in the other was a smaller floppy hat with flowers attached to it. If he and this new friend of his were going to irritate the old women who frequented this establishment, they would do so as stylishly as possible.

The two had agreed to meet at the side of the fancy tea house before going in together. As the necromancer heard approaching footsteps, they raised a brow and gave a lopsided grin. “I hope you’re who I think you are and not the staff.” Alistair called out. “Otherwise I have a long uber drive home.” He handed the hat out in front of him. “For you, good sir, as discussed.” He gave a low bow, as if getting into character. “Shall we show these old ladies what a good time looks like? Drink some tea and maybe start a mini sandwich fight?” 

They grinned, exposing their teeth at the idea. Alistair’s round sunglasses were the only thing concealing the mischief that was shining in their eyes. “The name’s Alistair McKenzie.” They introduced with a flourish. “Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, fellow creature of chaos.”

—

He’d barely needed to explain the plan to his daughter before she was clapping her hands together excitedly and announcing that they were going thrifting. He didn’t know what that meant until he was in it, climbing down off the bus after Ophelia with his metal leg and his cane, letting her hold on to his arm as they moved down the line of storefronts, until… ah. 

It’d been an all-day affair, but the two had managed to find him something suitably flashy and obnoxious to wear, and Rhett actually found himself smiling, forgetting for a few hours all that he’d endured that’d brought him to this point, this state of infuriating uselessness. For a few hours, he was just having a good time with his kid, trying on ridiculous secondhand clothes and making her laugh. Ophelia, in turn, was just glad her dad had made plans with a new friend and that those plans weren’t going to be dangerous, just ridiculous. It was a breath of fresh air in what had otherwise been a pretty miserable few weeks for them. 

When the day arrived, Rhett donned his blue plaid slacks and solid blue vest over a white button-up, honestly probably looking nicer than he had in quite a while. Ophelia pulled his curly gray hair into a flattering up-do, and carefully tucked a silk square into his breast pocket, then accented it with a fresh sprig of rosemary. You’ll look nice and smell nice, she’d insisted. Who was he to argue? His one shoe was a stylish boot, the other foot, well… some sort of three-toed, metal claw contraption he’d forged for himself. It was for balance, not aesthetics, after all.

Limping up to the agreed meeting spot, his companion was hard to miss. A smirk settled on his grizzled features as he approached, seeing the hat extended to him and taking it gratefully. “Aye, m’ the one here fer mischief,” he concurred, giving the hat a quick inspection before plopping it on his head. Wouldn’t you know it, the color of the blooms actually went well with his shade of blue!

Watching Alistair bow, Rhett snorted. “Hell yeah. Ain’t been in a proper food fight since I was three. ‘Bout time, eh?” An introduction was made, and the warden straightened himself up (even though Alistair couldn’t see it), clearing his throat slightly before speaking. “Rhett Tangaroa. Nice to… meet you, et cetera.” He wasn’t great with fancy verbiage, clearly. Tapping his cane on the ground, he looked in the direction of the entrance. “Right, well, best get on with it. Don’t wanna keep this captive audience watin’ any longer!”

—

Unable to stop the snicker from escaping past their lips. “Three? Well, maybe there will be time to stop at a restaurant afterward, as finger foods will barely do anything for you.” Alistair made a face, thinking of the little triangle cucumber sandwiches that will inevitably be served. “And by afterward, I mean when we’re kicked out so fast our heads spin.” 

The spellcaster had almost forgone Brutus and chose to use a white mobility cane but decided if they were going to get kicked out for being unruly, they might as well teach the old bats something along the way. “Hopefully, I won’t be given a hard time for Brutus,” Alistair murmured as they approached the entrance. “Follow my lead,” they spoke before pushing the door open and walking into the building.

“Welcome to L'heure du thé.” The hostess said with a bright smile, looking between the two. She glanced down at the dog, noticed his bowtie, then smiled. “Just the two of you today?” She asked, which earned a nod from Alistair in turn. “Great, follow me.” She spoke, gesturing to the man who seemed to have some sight. Alistair gave a soft command to Brutus in Gaelic, which caused the big dog to follow the woman with his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. 

The woman was kind, taking the time to help Alistair navigate toward the seat. She said nothing about Brutus, which they were very grateful for. After the girl walked away, a man in a tailcoat walked up to the table and gave a polite smile. “Welcome! I am Jacque, your waiter for this afternoon.” Alistair tilted their head to the side then looked over in the direction of their waiter’s voice. “Could you read out the teas for me? I’m blind.” They explained with a polite but tight smile. If they were going to cause a bit of mayhem, might as well start off on the right foot as opposed to being trouble right off the bat. 

“Of course, sir.” The waiter listed off the teas. “We have Earl Grey, chai, peppermint, camomile, fruit, herbal, and, of course, English breakfast.” Jacques clapped his hands together, that same air of superiority about him. “I’ll take Earl Grey.” Alistair spoke with a smile. “And give us the spread.” They quickly added. “My friend here has never experienced the fun that is high tea.” The spellcaster moved his head over in Rhett’s direction and gave the man a wink. “Very good, sir. And what tea will you have?” Jacques asked Rhett. Alistair, who figured the man knew very little about tea, smirked. “He’ll have chai.” Alistair answered for him, and the man went on his way. 

After Jacques had walked away, Alistair tipped his sunglasses below his eyes, his almost amber eyes twinkling with delight. “I can smell fish and eggs. Seems like you will be eating fancy today.” 

—

God, what an affair this already was. Unable to stop himself thinking that French really was a dumb-sounding language, Rhett was quiet while Alistair interacted with the hostess and waiter in turn, doing little more than raising an eyebrow at the coattails. The brutish part of him was annoyed the Alistair had ordered for him, but whatever remained of his logical brain realized and understood that it was for the best, so he was able to stifle the flare of vexation in favor of being grateful that he had yet to be put on the spot when it came to… speaking. He was not very good at speaking.

The glance over the top of Alistair’s glasses did bring a small smile to his face, but of course he remembered only after a beat that his companion couldn’t see it. Fuck’s sake, he was bad at this, despite being damn nearly mostly blind himself. Figured that he’d take what he still had for granted, that’s just the kind of person he was. So, for good measure, he added a soft, uncertain chuckle. 

“Oh aye? Fish n’ eggs? What makes that so fancy? Posh folk like the stinky food, eh?” Stinkier the better, he thought. More fun to fuck around with. Not that he could really judge their taste in food… it wasn’t like he ate well. Hell, some of the things he ate weren’t even supposed to be eaten. Fish and eggs was probably a huge step up from whatever he’d been putting in himself the last week.  

—

Alistair ran a hand through their hair after Rhett questioned the food choice, to which the redhead gave a shrug. “I can’t say I was let around the upper crust of society,” they responded as they put their chin in their hand. “And for good reason.” They added with a smirk. “I was sixteen when I first got into a fight with some rich bloke ‘round my age.” They remembered with a fondness, tilting their head to the side. “Went running back to their rich daddy who threatened to ruin me. Ruin what? I was sixteen.” They rolled their eyes. “Since then, I understood there was a very us versus them mentality when it came to rich folk.” 

Alistair turned his focus to the women gossiping behind him, whispering loudly to each other about “How could they let a dog in here? Don’t they know that’s unsanitary?” One whispered to the other. “Not to mention the redhead looks positively ridiculous.” This earned raised brows from Alistair, who was about to turn around and give them a piece of their mind when they remembered the mission. 

Turning their attention back to Rhett, hoping that he had heard what they had, Alistair grumbled something unintelligible under their breath, followed by “They’re my target. Someone deserves a face full of eggs.” 

—

“Mmm… there’s a sentiment I can agree with,” Rhett responded. “Only thing a rich man’s good for is trickin’ him outta his cash.” He’d done plenty of that alongside his sister when they were children, before their father had sold them off and instead had them grifting in every town and city they wound up in. “Money makes ya stupid. Dependant.” 

His attention slid to the two women, hearing their remarks as Alistair did. The warden snorted, leaning over to address Brutus, reaching out to pat his head. “Oi, don’t suppose you got a few rounds in the chamber, eh, lad? Those slags could use a little surprise under their table, I reckon.” Laughing to himself, Rhett straightened up and looked at Alistair again. “What you thinkin’, mate? Want me to huck it? I got damn good aim.”

—

Breaking out in a grin, Alistair nodded their head. There was an idea, maybe they should have thought of robbing all these idiots blind instead of throwing food into their hair. “Ngck. Next time we’re robbing them.” They decided with a smirk on their face. “What’s that saying the young folk have been using these days?” They thought for a moment, then raised a finger. “Money makes the world go ‘round, unfortunately.” They added as they leaned back in their seat, crossing one leg over the other. 

Brutus began wagging his tail at the sudden attention from Rhett, tilting his head back and forth as he was spoke to. Alistair took a moment to look through his familiar’s eyes to see Rhett with mischief written all over his face. “While I can’t say my dog shits on command, I will take you up on the offer.” Alisair motioned with their head towards the gossiping women who were still none the wiser. “Go for it.” They spoke with a wicked grin on their face. 

—

Their food was arriving as the go-ahead was given, and Rhett smirked to himself. “Aye aye,” he agreed, nodding in thanks to the waiter. With one hand, he got a serving spoon loaded up with whatever eggy dish this was supposed to be between them, holding it by the end of its handle and aiming the scoop in the women’s direction. His other hand reached for his tea, lifting the cup to his face. If they wanted this to last more than three seconds, he had to look preoccupied, after all. 

“Alright. Now lean just a touch to yer left, my friend,” Rhett instructed Alistair, taking a more precise aim with his spoon. A glance around them told him that no one was watching, and once Alistair was clear of the line of fire, he took a sip of tea and flicked the spoon forward. Eggy mess soared through the air, and before it’d even made impact the warden had set the spoon back down. The food collided with the side of the woman’s head and she shrieked loudly in response. Rhett did his best to look surprised, but there was a bit of laughter that was hidden in his cup of tea before he set it back down, trying to appear just as confused as everyone else. “Ohh, no, what happened?” he falsely sympathized, pouting his best pout and shaking his head. “The nerve of some people, am I right?”

—

Upon receiving the instruction to do so, Alistair casually leaned to their left, feeling the wooshing of the egg soaring through the air. Then Alistair leaned themselves back to the previous position. “Why the nerve!” The women shouted as Alistair picked up their cup and snickered into it. It was nice to meet someone who shared a sense of mischief. The old woman’s eyes narrowed at Rhett as he attempted to sympathize with the woman. “Why, I…” she snarled, hurriedly searching around for a waiter, who was already rushing over. “Ma’am, if you’re going to cause a disturbance like this, I will have to ask you to leave.” He explained in a hushed tone, which only fueled her ire. “I did nothing!” She exclaimed, slamming her hands on the table as she shot up and pointed a finger towards Rhett. “The pair shouldn’t be here in the first place!” 

Alistair pressed a hand to their chest at the woman's declaration, carefully practiced shock plastered to their features. “My dear, the two of us are simply enjoying a good afternoon outing. If we wanted to cause problems, we would’ve gone to a dive bar.” He spoke in an even tone. The manager was getting involved with the women at this point, and before they knew it, the women were being escorted out and not allowed to return. As soon as they were all gone, Alistair turned their attention to Rhett with a grin breaking out on their face. “You, my friend, are amazing.”

—

What a joy it was to see someone so full of herself get her comeuppance. Or at least that's what Rhett had to assume, given her remarks about the odd pair. He watched with neatly hidden delight as she and her companion were escorted off the premises, their shouting dying down as the front door was closed to them forever. “I dunno what they're all in a huff over,” Rhett laughed. “Who'd wanna frequent this place?” It was fun as a first time experience, though… well, probably only because Alistair was like-minded when it came to getting into trouble. They'd probably make a good friend, he thought, if he was still capable of such things. Time would tell. 

“Amazing? Why, yes, it's about damn time someone noticed!” The warden gave a snort, earning him a glare from a different nearby table. He raised a brow, picking up his eggy spoon again and pointing it in their direction. They took the hint, hiding in their cup of tea and refusing to make eye contact again. he'd turn these types right around, given enough time. 

Leaning back into their chair, Alistair shrugged. “It’s their little slice of existence they’ve carefully carved out for themselves, and God forbid that someone up and changes that status quo.” They responded, taking a sip of the tea, then made a face. “This is… watery.” They spoke with distaste dripping from their words. Without any decorum, they swiftly dropped the act. Old ladies could insult them all they wanted, but messing with their tea? That was unforgivable. “Let’s give them hell.” His tone was dark and unyielding as they picked up the teacup and turned it upside-down.

Then, the game was on. They couldn’t see Rhett’s excitement but could feel it radiating from him in droves. “Put that amazing skill of yours to work. Go for between the eyes.” They proclaimed before picking up a piece of fish and throwing it with wild abandon, for once not caring how they appeared. For once, they were having a good time with a complete stranger that maybe, for once, they could see as a friend. 

Shrieks called out as the fish plopped somewhere, and Alistair grinned. This was going to be fun.

[lordgreenmoon]

Bilan Rôliste - Second semestre 2023

Les premiers jours de l’année sont généralement l’occasion des bilans, mais aussi celui des listes de résolutions ou d’objectifs. Voici donc le bilan Rôliste de mon second semestre 2023. Comme attendu, l’été a marqué un ralentissement significatif dans mes activités JdR. Pour avoir échangé sur les différents réseaux, il semblerait que je ne sois pas le seul pour qui le break de Juillet.…

[eldridgecandell]

Send me a face claim and I will use that face claim to make an NPC in my muse's life, as well as talk about their relationship, connection, and feelings towards my muse -- In honor of the late actor, face claim: Matthew Perry

Tovar Copperfen Played by Matthew Perry

"Excuse me?"

"Eh, there can I 'elp ya?" Came the gruff but light hearted reply from the center of the growing ring of chairs, the dwarf still holding one of them in his hands easily.

From the top of the stairs stood a young Dark Iron woman, her skin even gray in the low light of the basement of Stoneblade, her hands rubbing together as she looked about the room. A summoning circle of mismatched chairs, an old weather beaten rug, a long table holding a stack of ceramic cups, and in the center the thick gruff dwarf who looked back her. His hair was slicked back and dotted with as much salt as the pepper it might have been long ago, the beard just the same as it was braided tight down to his belt. He looked every bit the stereotypical Ironforge dwarf except perhaps the pair of half moon spectacles that rested on his hawk nose.

Again the gruff voice asked again of the young woman at the top of the stairs. "Ya need something?"

She quickly began to shake her head, her steps already backing the way she had begun. "No, no I think ah'm in the wrong place."

The chair the dwarf had been carrying set down with a soft thump as he clopped his might form over to the base of the steps, a heavy scarred hand coming to stroke his beard as he looked up at her. "Well what place are ya lookin for?"

Again she hesitated.

"Ah'm Tovar," the gruff voice said again, his eyes looking over the top of his glasses at her. Tovar was already reading over some clear signs on her from the red eyes, blotching of yellowed skin on the normal grey, and the sheen of sweat that was hardly from the fires of the Great Forge. "Ya in trouble?"

"No, I think I need to go."

Again she would back up, her hand already reaching for the handle of the old door as she turned her back to him now.

"A'rite, but just know we're always here for ya. No judgement, no resentment, and no politics," Tovar's hand would lower from his beard, though a sadness could be felt in his gaze his words would not push it. "You can be who you need to be and how you need to be. If ya need help, we know how to do that."

"Hell I can do that, even if I can always do et fer myself!" There was a weak laugh that echoed from Tovar, reaching up to run a hand through his thinning hair on top of his head. "But when I or we can, we do. Groups or one on one."

"It's jus up to ya."

The final phrase was enough for the Dark Iron woman, already she was slumping down on the stairs. Her shoulders shaking as Tovar began to head up the steps, to lay a comforting hand to her shoulder and offer a hand.

"No need fer tears yet, come on. We'll get ya settled."

@susan-gampre

Tovar Copperfen is a sponsor and member of the Stoneblade Anonymous, a group of people who gather to help with their addictions. A close friend of Grumvald and one of the first members of the group, he's come a long way from the horrors of his own self destruction and nightmares of his past in the war-torn lives within Ironforge. I think from what I've read about Matthew Perry in the past few days, it would be a role that would be fitting to how he wanted to be remembered.

[bloodsworn-marshal]

Writing Prompt: Blunt Word Count: 506 Dwarf AU

“I want ter set out on another adventure.”

“Huh? Are we not already…?”

“How can we call this a grand ol’ adventure ‘n all if we haven’t moved fer weeks!?”

“Well…”

Twas not like Pipitt’s been beating around the bush about it either! Ever since they left ol’ Tomra in search for an adventuring life and seeing all the unknown sights, they had made just a little headway by making it to this grand place of the Crystarium. And what a place it is! Lots to explore, lots of things to do, all kinds of people to meet... plenty!

Except they haven’t moved since.

See, Zurott over here had gotten too comfortable. The Crystarium had been all too happy to lend them a so called ‘apartment’ with plenty of beds to go around, space to keep, the life of an actual home… It had been a step up to the guy’s old cave he had been living in. Which, to be fair, was hard to pass up on. But still…!

Things were too cozy. Too comfortable. And there were still many, many places to see ‘round Norvrandt! And many jobs besides that did not want to be completed by the commonfolk, like that Jarexx fellow. 

Pipitt crossed his arms, huffing and pouting beneath his helm. “We ought ta leave now. I saw it myself. A large job board in the center o’ this place, filled to the brim with things to do!”

“We have been doing them!” Zurott interjected, waving his hands as though to explain. “Like helpin’ the Crystalline Mean place, the farmers, the shops—”

“Bah! Easy jobs that any ol’ person can do. I want to get out o’ town and do something big an’ important!”

“But Pipitt… I’m not so sure we’re strong enough for anythin’ like that just yet.”

“We are.”

“Remember the fights we ran into on the way here though? We just barely scraped by—”

“We. Are. Ready!” The taller dwarf huffed again. Any more and you’d swear steam was pouring out of that helm of his. “And if yer still lollygagging by the time I’m ready ta’ head out on the morrow, then I’ll just head out myself!”

“You can’t just go alone…” Zurott groaned. There was no getting past this hard head. Not without getting a beating into the ground that he’d have to heal up after. And he couldn’t ignore that either. He’d have to go too.

“Then it’s a done deal, aye? O’ course it is! You’ll see, we’ll do just fine!” Pipitt threw out a haughty laugh for good measure, but for Zurott he only sensed trouble would befall them. Who knew, maybe they were up to the challenge? Or… was Pipitt simply taking up Jarexx’s challenge to forge him a better hammer if he put his weight’s worth out there?

Either way. As difficult as it was to deal with Pipitt sometimes, at least it was easy to know what was on his mind, the way he spelled it out simply as he does.

[dwarf-posting]

Thoughts on the long-standing hammer vs axe debate?

Anon A've jus' woke up an' ye've hit me with tha longest, mos' complex argument ta ever grace dwarfkind!

Hammers are fantastic, because no' only are they weapons o' war, they're also tools fer construction an' forgin'. Hammers have a lot more heft than mos' other weapons, so they're usually slower to land a hit, but when they connect, they'll shatter bones like twigs! They'll dent any ramshackle plate humies might come up with an' turn any elf er goblin ta a foine red stain. But no' only that, hammers are an essential tool for buildin'. They'll pair with that anvil ta forge ore inta beautiful blades an' spears, with a chisel ta carve our story inta that very caverns, with a bag o' nails ta literally put a roof over yer head. A hammer may gain use in war, but it's much more valuable in peacetime.

Pros:

Devastatin' damage

Incredibly useful outside of war

Cons:

Warhammers tend ta be larger an' heavier, no' tha' ye cannae use yer hammer from yer workshop ta bash goblin skulls, but they're different items usually

Slower ta swing, which leaves ye vulnerable ta yer foe's strikes

Now, axes are a different story! An axe is usually quite hefty, but no' near as hefty as an axe o' that same size. They're faster to use. Whoile a hammer'll bash bones an' crush organs, an axe'll hack off limbs, crack through yer ribcage, or jus' carve off a sizeable chunk o' ya. They're more surface-level damage than core damage, which is no' a bad thing! On tha contrary! A humie'll die from exterior bleeding much quicker than from interior bleeding. Tha' said, hammers have axes beat in tha other arena. Axes are useful outside o' combat, but no' nearly so as hammers. Sure, we use them fer choppin' down trees near our mines, but tha's about it.

Pros:

Much more hack-an-slash than hammers

Elves live in trees

Cons:

Not quite as useful as hammers

So, in conclusion, it's a tough argument tha's been causin' tavern brawls as long as dwarves have inhabited taverns. But me personally, A'd have ta go with... tha Axe. It's an iconic weapon, an' A like ta see my enemies come down ta eye-level, if ye get my meanin'. Plus, have ye seen how Kratos uses tha' Leviathan axe? Totally badass.