#no WAY he’s allowing rigged dice in any of his games
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Steve agrees to play D&D as long as Eddie plays too, so they get Will to DM. Somehow, Steve rolls three nat20s in a row and Eddie’s like ‘no fucking way, not possible, give me those’ and rolls with Steve’s dice. He immediately gets a nat1
#like he’s glad that Steve is rolling high for the team obviously#but he’s got INTEGRITY okay???#no WAY he’s allowing rigged dice in any of his games#even if it benefits him#and Steve is just like I swear to god Eddie I’m not doing this on purpose#and everyone flips tf out when Eddie rolls a 1#Steve is trying so hard not to laugh#but Robin is crying she’s laughing so hard#stranger things#fic idea#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie
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All’s Fair: Chapter 3
Happy Halloween, everybody! I hope you enjoy the tricks and treats that this dark and twisty Terry provides in this chapter...
Previous Parts:
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
TW: Teasing, coercion, gaslighting, threats, violence, PTSD being triggered, dubcon, probably noncon if we're being honest, groping, fingering, graphic sex, Terry Silver being manipulative and hot about it
Terry’s POV:
Terry is over the moon with what you have allowed him to get away with tonight. He leads you out of the Hall of Mirrors gently, rubbing his thumb in reassuring circles on your skin as he holds your hand; he has to make sure you aren’t going to be overwhelmed by the experience after the fact. You seem shaky, and shy, but overall you’re glowing with satisfaction and an endearing sense of pride, like you had overcome a significant obstacle. He supposes, in a way, you have. Hopefully the mind-blowing orgasm courtesy of yours-truly has knocked away a significant chunk of your remaining anxieties and hesitation about going all the way tonight. It would make things easier for him, at any rate.
As you walk through the fair you enter a path lined by booths largely filled with other couples, the people staffing them outright heckling the men walking through with their girlfriends and intimidating them into paying for a chance to win their partner a plush toy. It’s clearly a cash grab; he can spot some of the illusions set up to trick people from here, and appreciates the hustle.
“Hey hey, Big Man! How ‘bout you come on over and try to win something for that lovely lady of yours?” a man throws out, trying to bait him.
He can appreciate a hustle, but not at his expense.
Terry immediately starts to steer you both towards the booth, but you squeeze his hand to try to stop him.
“Just ignore him, Terry. Those games are all rigged anyway,” you say with a roll of your eyes directed at the man goading them from his booth.
“It’ll only take a minute,” he tells you with confidence, pulling you into his side as he walks over. Do you really still underestimate him this much?
He hands a couple bills to the carnie in exchange for a few balls that feel like they’re from a billiards table.
“So, what? I just throw these at some bottles?” he asks skeptically.
“That’s right,” the man says with a broad grin that Terry sees right through.
“How can I be sure that the bottles aren’t attached to the table?” he asks with an innocent smile. The carnie lifts a bottle up to demonstrate, and Terry shakes his head.
“Why don’t you let me back there to see for myself?” he asks with a soft, dangerous voice that has the other man paling slightly, before his eyes turn to land on you with a slight smirk.
“No dice, buddy. I could let the lady back here with me on your behalf,” he offers, raising a challenging eyebrow. Terry is not concerned for a minute about letting you near this man. He is certain of your loyalty and devotion to him, and doesn’t think that the man is stupid enough to try to lay a finger on you in his presence.
Still, he plays up his insecurities, pulling you close and laying a kiss on your lips before releasing you.
“Whaddaya say, doll?” he asks you, giving you your favourite lopsided grin. “Want to go check that everything’s on the up-and-up for me?”
You give him a shy smile and a nod, moving away from him and slipping into the back of the booth as the carnie lifts the counter up on its hinge, closing it after you.
“You want me to lift them all?” you ask Terry, paying no mind to the man next to you, he notes with satisfaction as he nods at you.
“You can touch anything you want back here, doll,” the carnie says in a husky voice, leering at your back as he repeats one of Terry’s petnames for you.
He’ll be out of a job by this time tomorrow.
He watches you pick up all the bottles individually before you restack them, nodding with approval and nimbly hopping over the counter and back to him, tucking yourself into his side immediately. Yes, you are most assuredly his now.
“There’s no magnets or anything, but they’re all weighted at the bottom,” you report back to him, wrapping your arms around his middle as you turn to look at the carnie, your face unimpressed.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” he purrs at you with affection, kissing your cheek. Taking a step away from you, he fires off two balls in quick succession, aiming for the bottoms of the bottles that formed the base of the pyramid, sending them all toppling over. You hop up and down, clapping for him while the other man scowls.
“We’ll take the big snake,” you tell the carnie with a cheeky smile, pointing to a large red and yellow plushie that hung across the ceiling of the booth. “For Cobra Kai!” you announce to Terry, raising your fist in the air as you both watch the man struggle to take the toy off of its hooks. He kisses the top of your head, charmed as always by your sweetness. He hopes it doesn’t disappear along with the loss of your innocence after tonight.
Terry takes the gigantic toy from the man, draping it over your shoulders; it’s still close to dragging on the ground as you walk away from the games.
“Well, it’s getting late, babygirl, and I doubt that they’ll let us take your new friend with us on rides. Is there anything else you want to do before we go home?” he asks, wondering if you’ll pick up on his wording. You’ll both be going to his home tonight.
“Can we do the ferris wheel?” you ask, looking up at him with wide eyes and a hopeful smile. Of course he’ll indulge you; you’ll be doing the same for him tonight, spread out on his sheets and giving yourself to him.
“That sounds great, babygirl. Let’s go,” he says, wrapping an arm around your waist and mirroring the snake across your shoulders. With his free hand he pulls out his mobile phone, calling the chauffeur while you lead them to the line for the ride. He has a quick conversation with the man, who assures Terry that he is on his way, and hangs up as you approach the line.
“Larry is going to come and take this –” he squeezes the snake lightly with a large hand.
“Kiai,” you interrupt him, and he raises an eyebrow.
“Excuse me?”
“His name is Kiai, I’ve just decided,” you inform him seriously, and he gives you an indulgent smile.
“Alright then, Larry is coming to take Kiai back to the car while we go on the ride. Why don’t you go wait for him by the entrance while I hold our place in line?” Terry suggests, his face giving nothing away. You beam up at him, and immediately head off to give your silly toy to the driver.
The moment that your back is turned, Terry walks to the front of the line to speak to the ride’s operator, ignoring the grumbling of complaints behind him.
“Sir, you’ll need to wait at the back of the –” the man starts to tell him in an exasperated voice, but Terry wraps a friendly arm around his shoulders, leaning down to speak with him privately, a wad of bills clenched in one fist.
“I’m not here to cut the line,” Terry informs him smoothly, feeling the man tense under his arm. “I want you to keep anyone else from getting on this thing after me and my girl, and I want you to keep us at the top for… about a half hour or so.”
The man looks about to protest, so he flashes the cash in his hand at the man, whose jaw quickly snaps shut.
“Tell them the ride is broken, closed, whatever – I don’t care. But we’re on that ride alone and at the top for a half hour, got it?”
The man nods mutely at him, and Terry gives him an approving pat on the shoulder, stuffing the money into his front shirt pocket before turning and heading back to the line without another word. You rejoin him several minutes later, sans-snake, and before long the two of you are seated in the ride, which slowly makes its way around until the two of you are perched at the very top, overlooking the fair grounds.
Time to see what else he can get out of you.
Reader’s POV:
The top of the ferris wheel is the perfect time and place to tell Terry that you love him. Sure, it’s a cliché, but seeing as you feel the way people only do in cheesy romantic comedies, it seems all the more appropriate.
Just as you approach the top, the ride stops, your pod swaying slightly. What an odd coincidence… but maybe perfect for what you want to do.
“I’m sure that it’ll start moving again in a minute,” you tell Terry reassuringly, though you’re not sure why. Not wanting to miss this golden opportunity, you take a deep breath, turning sideways to face him. He cocks his head to the side, surveying you with interest, and you bite your lip.
“Is everything okay, babygirl?” he asks, his eyes bright with concern as he takes your hand in his own. He was so kind and considerate…
“Everything is wonderful, Terry,” you tell him, squeezing his hand as you slide closer to him. “These past few months have been beyond my wildest dreams; I never thought that I would ever be with someone as incredible as you. You’ve been so kind, and patient, and considerate, and I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it, but… I love you, Terry.”
There’s a brief moment of silence before Terry gives you a dazzling smile that takes your breath away, sliding towards you and pinning you against the side of the ride. You feel your heart thudding in your chest as he cradles your face in his large hands, staring down at you like you’re the only thing in the world to him. He bends down to connect his lips with yours, kissing you so passionately that you feel dizzy, your breath coming in short little gasps against his mouth as you try to stave off the feeling of a headrush.
“Y/N, my sweet girl,” he purrs against your lips, clutching you to him firmly. He’d been a lot more insistent with his need for physical touch today, not that you mind. He had been right, after all; you needed him to give you that little push outside of your comfort zone to help you realize that you were okay with all of the sexual things that had you feeling nervous.
With that in mind, you let him have his way with you, running his hands along your body beneath his jacket and kissing down your neck. You feel his tongue tracing patterns down your neck and across your collarbone, and take a deep breath, relaxing and trying to convert your anxieties into excitement. He made you feel so good…
There’s a series of loud pops, and the night sky erupts in bright colours as fireworks are set off above the funfair.
Terry completely freezes, his hands squeezing your waist tightly and not letting up for you to breathe. You try to lift his face from the crook of your neck but are unable to get him to budge as the banging continues all around you.
“Terry?” you ask quietly, your mouth dry. What is going on? “Terry?!”
He lets out a hot burst of air against your skin as he marginally comes back to himself; enough to start breathing again, at least.
“God damnit. God damnit!” he hisses, pushing away from you and sliding to the other side of the seat. He’s staring straight ahead, but you don’t get the sense that he’s seeing what’s in front of him.
“Terry, what is it? What’s wrong?” you ask, trying to keep your voice calm, though inside you’re panicking.
“The fireworks,” he says curtly, still not looking at you. “They take me back to a time and place that I don’t want to think about again.”
Your heart leaps into your throat, choking you. Of course, the war. The fireworks must be triggering his PTSD.
Cautiously, you move towards him on the bench, not wanting to spook him.
“Okay, Terry,” you say in a clear but soothing voice, slowly reaching out to place a hand over one of his – both were currently gripping the railing that surrounded them tightly. “It’s okay. I’ll try to flag someone down and see if they can get us back to the ground,” you say, moving to lean over the railing, but he pulls you back from the edge firmly.
“No,” he snarls, pulling you into him and wrapping his long limbs against you, as though to shield you from some nonexistent danger. “Don’t yell,” he orders you, and you nod, not even wanting to risk speaking for the moment, simply stroking whatever parts of him your hands can reach.
“How can I help you, Terry?” you ask quietly after a moment. “I’ll do anything I can.”
Terry is quiet for a moment, considering the question. You hope that there’s something you can do to ease his suffering…
“Distract me.” He looks directly into your eyes with a tense, pained expression on his face, and you think back to the drive over here where you had tried to distract him from looking out the window. Biting your tongue, you slip out of his jacket, leaving it on your side of the bench and slowly moving to climb onto his lap, straddling him and twining your arms around his neck. Hesitantly, you lower yourself onto him, rolling your hips against him. Was this even going to help?
Terry’s hands come around your hips to your butt, squeezing it as he guides your body into repeating the motion, so you assume that it is helping.
“Focus on me, Terry,” you whisper in his ear in a breathless voice, feeling strangely exhilarated and not nearly as nervous or self-conscious as you had anticipated. “Let me make you feel good, and focus on that.”
With his hands guiding your hips, you start to grind against him, giving him a lap dance and peppering his face his kisses, cooing sweet nothings at him and doing your best to take his mind off of everything. Gradually, Terry loosens up beneath you, looking up into your eyes with an overwhelming degree of reverence, and his hands slide up your body.
He pulls you further against his chest, getting rougher with his hands kneading your flesh, his lips claiming yours in a ferocious kiss, like he was trying to consume you.
“My Y/N, my girl, my sweet thing, all mine,” he mutters to himself in a hoarse voice as he distracts himself with your body, and you can’t say that you’re upset with the treatment, though you wish it was under better circumstances.
Another round of fireworks goes off, and he grabs the neckline of your dress, tearing it down the middle and baring your chest, with only your bra between you. He immediately buries his face between your breasts, his hands at your back keeping you in place, as though he’s trying to hide away from everything. You run your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp with your fingernails, humming something between a song and a moan as you sit perched on his lap. After an indeterminate amount of time, you conclude that the fireworks have stopped.
“I think it’s over, Terry,” you tell him softly, laying a kiss to his temple before leaning back, moving to retake your seat beside him.
“And just what do you think you’re doing?” he asks firmly, his grip tightening on your waist as you try to climb off of him. His eyes are dark and focused on yours, but they still have an odd bright sheen to them.
“I… I thought…” you stammer, unsure of exactly what to say. Did he need to be distracted after the noises had stopped? For how long? You couldn’t very well stay on his lap like this, in public no less. “I thought you were doing better,” you say carefully, not wanting to offend him.
“Oh, sweetheart, I am,” he croons up at you, his hands still locked in their grip on your waist. “But I’m not done with you yet,” he says darkly, giving you a slightly wicked smile.
You start to fidget and squirm on his lap, trying to get out of this tactfully, clutching your torn dress to your chest to cover yourself.
“We’re in public, Terry. There are children around…” you trail off weakly.
“Not up here there aren’t.”
“I’m sure the ride will be moving soon; we shouldn’t risk it,” you say with more confidence, and he chuckles, the sound cold and hollow.
“You go to all this trouble for me tonight and then act like you don’t want it?” he hisses at you, lifting you off his lap and turning you around. You think maybe he’ll resettle you between his legs in a (marginally) more appropriate position, but instead he bends you slightly over the railing keeping you in the pod. You start to feel dizzy as you look down at the world far below you, and instinctively back up into him. Without warning, Terry lightly kicks your feet out from under you, keeping you secure with an arm around your waist, the other clamped over your mouth and nose to mask your scream of terror.
“Exhilarating, isn’t it?” he purrs in your ear, keeping you tightly against him. “That’s what it’s going to feel like when I take you, Y/N, when I make you mine,” he growls, reaching a hand up under your skirt to your underwear, still damp from the orgasm he’d given you in the Hall of Mirrors. “You want to be mine, don’t you, sweetheart?”
“Y-Yes,” you gasp, still trying to worm your way out of his grip, but he’s got you just where he wants you. “But not here, not now!”
“This is what people do when they’re in love. You love me, don’t you?” he asks, seeming hurt at the mere insinuation that you don’t.
“I do, Terry, of course I do,” you tell him quickly, wanting to ease his worries, and he kisses your cheek, his hand tugging your underwear down your legs. Once they get to your knees, he tugs them, pulling you backwards with them until you’re sitting on the bench, letting him fully remove your underwear. He pockets them, giving you a wink, and you feel your face flush scarlet.
“Losing your virginity on a ferris wheel is pretty unique, just like you,” he teases, and you clamp your legs together more tightly, as though that would put an end to this discussion. “I want to make your first time something special,” he coaxes, bending down to stare into your eyes. “And then I’ll take you back to my place and treat you like a queen, like you deserve, okay?”
You don’t want to have sex for the first time in public, on a carnival ride; you’re not sure if you’re ready to have sex at all. You have done so much with Terry just in the past couple of hours that you had never done before, and it’s very overwhelming to you. Still, everything that he had pushed for tonight had you feeling amazing, and you don’t regret it… why does your brain always have to make things so muddled and complicated?
You shirk away from him reflexively as he leans down towards you, and a wounded look crosses his features.
“No, Terry, I didn’t mean to,” you say apologetically, wanting to keep him calm and happy. You always want him to be happy. “It was just a reflex, I’m sorry. I’m just nervous about all of this.”
“But you love me, you trust me, right?” he asks you fiercely, his voice hoarse, and you nod immediately.
“I do, Terry. Of course I do,” you tell him, repeating your words from earlier. He just needs reassurance, especially after his episode; the least you can do is make your feelings and devotion to him clear.
“Let me do this for you, baby,” he implores you in a desperate, needy voice. “Come sit on my lap again, and we’ll go at your pace.”
He sits down on his jacket across from you, giving you a warm smile and patting his thigh encouragingly. Timidly, you slide down the bench again and climb back on top of him. You’re standing on your knees, too nervous to fully sit on him, and he takes the opportunity to reach below you to unbuckle his belt and pull down his zipper, lifting his hips slightly to pull out his hard cock. Immediately, your breath starts coming hard and fast in your panic, and Terry shushes you softly, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your hipbones.
“Why don’t you give me another little lapdance, babygirl?” he asks, kissing your mouth firmly. “Get yourself used to the feel of me. It’ll help,” he coaxes. You start to look down, but he catches you with a finger under your chin, keeping your face up and your eyes looking into his.
“Don’t look down, sweetheart. Trust me,” he says with a slight chuckle.
“Why not?” you ask him shyly, biting your lip in concern.
“I don’t want you to panic, but let’s just say that I’m rather… proportionate,” he explains vaguely, but you get the gist. “I don’t want you to lose your nerve.”
Still nibbling your lip, you force yourself to lower your body onto his lap, jumping when you first feel him prodding your inner thigh. His cock is hard and warm, but the skin is incredibly soft, and you want to feel more. As you move your body around his length, you slowly start to map out just how large he is.
“You’re so big,” you whimper, your fingernails digging into his shoulders in your apprehension. “Terry, I… there’s no way.”
“I’ll fit, baby, I promise,” he swears, slipping his hands underneath your skirt and trailing them up your legs. “We’re meant to be together, right?” he says with a charming smile. “Let me help you,” he coos, running a hand up to your pussy and teasing your clit with a finger. You buck your hips, feeling yourself getting wetter, and he hums in approval, guiding you to lean on his shoulder.
“That’s right, just let me take care of you,” he hums encouragingly in your ear, coating two of his fingers in your slick juices before slipping one inside of you, this time as deep as he can go. You claw at his back, whining and mewling incoherently as you force yourself to stay still on his lap. He teases you with one finger, then two until you’re grinding your hips against his hand needily.
“Now, just relax baby, and let me in,” he murmurs coaxingly, removing his fingers and wrapping them around the base of his cock, lining himself up with your entrance.
“Terry wait, I –” you protest, trying to wriggle out of his grip, but he snarls, reversing your positions and pinning you against the back of the seat in one quick movement that makes you gasp.
“No,” he tells you in a soft, dangerous voice. “No, I’ve been patient for long enough. You’ve enjoyed everything that we’ve done tonight, and you want more; I know you do.” You shudder at his words and his tone, unable to close your legs as he holds them open, his hands grabbing your knees.
“And I’m going to give it to you, baby. Because you deserve it,” he says in a sweet voice that stands in stark contrast to what he just sounded like. Bending over you, he lays you on an angle along the bench, your head and most of your body on his jacket, lifting your legs up to wrap around his waist. You’re shaking like a leaf, your fingers bunched in the fabric of his jacket, and he leans over you, stroking the side of your face with the back of his hand gently.
You relax against him, and he takes the opportunity to thrust into you, the first few inches of his cock disappearing into your tight, wet heat. You feel like he’s knocked the breath out of you.
“T-Terry!” you cry out, still trying to be relatively quiet. “It’s too much!” you insist, tears leaking from your eyes.
“It gets better baby,” he promises, all bright eyes and a wide smile. He pulls out slightly before thrusting his hips forward again, moving deeper inside you, and you keen loudly. He slaps a hand over your mouth to quiet your screams, shushing you as he continues to open you up with his hard cock.
“I could be making you scream for me, so loud that the entire park would know that you’re up here getting the fucking of your life, but I wouldn’t do that to you, doll. You’re my sweet girl, and your pleasure belongs to me. Now let me have it.”
You’re not sure what Terry is feeling right now; if he’s still in the throes of a PTSD episode or if he’s angry at himself, feeling like he was weak or vulnerable because of his trigger response. Either way, you can’t exactly fault him for something so completely out of his control.
You are sure that deep down, he doesn’t want to hurt you, that he just needs to feel close and come back to himself through you. And you love him; surely this was the least you could do after everything he had done for you with your own mental health issues? It would probably feel good, if you loosen up and get into it. So that’s exactly what you try and force yourself to do, laying back obediently and digging your fingernails into your palms, trying to keep the rest of your body relaxed.
Terry fully makes his way inside of you after a minute or so, and you’re glad he told you not to look at him, because there’s no way you would’ve let this inside you if you had known what you were in for. He stills his hips, removing his hand from over top of your mouth and lightly brushing away your tears with a finger, looking down at you with an elated expression.
“You did it, babygirl. You took all of me,” he tells you in a pleased voice, stroking your cheek before moving his hand down to your chest, tugging at your bra until your breasts spill out. He licks his lips. “Now, I’m going to give you something you want in return…” he trails off, grinding his hips in a circle to help you adjust to the ache his intrusion is causing, while his hands move to distract you from the pain, just as you had done for him during the fireworks.
He first moves to your breasts, kneading them in circles, his long fingers plucking and pinching your nipples and causing little jolts of pleasure to run from them down to your belly and your clit. The sensation has you rocking your hips slightly, and you moan at the feeling. Terry looks down at you with a cocky, predatory smile, increasing the speed and intensity of his teasing, which in turn makes you move more in response.
“See, sweetheart? I know how to make you feel good, no matter what’s going on in that silly little head of yours. It’s my job to take care of you, to please you, just like you’ll do for me,” he tells you with a serene smile, and his words just make so much sense in this moment.
“Yes, Terry,” you agree, releasing one hand from his jacket beneath you to cover your mouth to muffle your cries of pleasure as one of his hands moves down your body to tease your clit insistently, his hips pumping his cock in and out in short thrusts, mostly staying buried inside of you. “You feel so good, so right…”
“That’s right, babygirl, you were made for this, made for me,” he purrs, picking up his pace and gradually pulling out further and further until every surge of his hips fills you completely, making your toes curl. It still hurts, and you’re still quite overwhelmed, tears pouring down your face as you try to stay quiet. But underneath that, you feel a bone-deep sense of satisfaction and completion, like Terry was claiming you so deeply and fully that you truly belong to him now. And now that you’re feeling this way, you realize that that’s exactly what you want.
“Mhnn, Terry! More, please!” you beg, watching Terry’s eyes darken with lust as you give yourself to him.
“You want more, baby?” he teases you, his tone almost mocking as he bends down, your legs parting for him easily. “We’re running out of time. You’ll have to come quickly if you want to come now,” he warns, his hand returning to where your hips are joined to rub your clit. “I’ll take my time with you when I get you home.”
You are arched up off the seat at this point, your shoulders and head the only things on the bench, and you’ve covered your mouth with both your hands, desperately trying to contain your moans as you start to clench against him, your legs squeezing around his hips as you orgasm. Terry is spurred on as you tighten around him, pumping into you hard and fast just a few more times before growling, coming hard inside you with a moan of your name.
He pulls out of you quickly, tucking himself back into his jeans before moving your legs to the side, giving him enough space to sit beside you. He gently gathers you into his lap, reaching onto your seat to grab his jacket and draping it over your shoulders. You’re trembling like a leaf, clearly overwhelmed by everything that had just happened. You don’t even know how to feel right now.
Terry moves to soothe as you burst into tears, burying your face into the crook of his neck.
“Ssshhh, it’s okay babygirl,” he says, stroking your hair and clutching you tighter to his chest. “I know, your first time can be a lot. This is totally normal, and I’m here with you,” he coos, and you fight through your emotions, forcing yourself to look up at him.
“Really? It’s okay?” you ask him hopefully, glad he isn’t taking offence and incorrectly assuming that you regretted what you had just done together. It had just been so, so much…
“Of course it is, sweetheart. Unless you think you regret it?” he asks after a brief pause, and your heart drops.
“No, not at all!” you exclaim, throwing your arms around his neck and pressing yourself closer. “It was wonderful, Terry, I don’t regret it at all.”
He hums in agreement, kissing your forehead. “I’m glad to hear it, doll. I feel so much closer to you now,” he confesses to you in a low voice, nuzzling into your neck, and you giggle.
Suddenly, there’s a whirring noise of the ride turning back on, and you begin your slow descent to the ground. Immediately, you tense up on his lap, looking down at yourself with horror.
“Oh no! I’m a mess, what am I going to do?!” you gasp, looking at Terry with wide eyes. Calm as can be, he fastens the jacket around you, pulling it up to your neck. Now, the only part of your dress that was visible was your skirt, and it seemed normal enough. So that was that dealt with, at least.
He reaches into one of the jacket pockets next, pulling out a spare hair tie that he always kept on him just in case, gently taming your hair and pulling it back into a half-ponytail to keep the more stubborn locks out of your eyes and relatively in place.
“There, all better,” he tells you, cupping one hand under your chin.
“But I’ve been crying, and I… I can feel…” you trail off, embarrassed, not wanting to say it out loud. Biting your lip, you force yourself to be an adult and lean over to whisper in his ear, shy even though you were the only two people on this thing. “I can feel your come starting to leak down my legs,” you tell him in a whisper, and you swear he shudders before responding.
“Well, if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, I’ll knock their lights out,” he tells you firmly, his jaw clenched just at the thought of someone looking at you. “We’ll be out of here as soon as possible, doll. Just walk normally, and then we can get you in the car and cleaned up, alright?”
You nod, trying to calm your breathing, and Terry gives you a pleased smile, like he’s proud of you. "That's my girl," he purrs approvingly, and you return his smile.
You complete your descent and Terry immediately hops out of the ride first to shield you from onlookers, reaching one hand behind himself that you can cling to for support as you disembark.
“She got a little frightened being stuck up there for so long, that’s all,” he explains to the small crowd surrounding you once you get off the ride. Several people have taken note of your tear-stained face, and how you’re shivering from inside his leather jacket, clinging to it to make sure that nobody notices your torn clothing. You accept Terry’s arm wrapping itself around your shoulders in an affectionate embrace as he kisses the top of your head comfortingly, and the crowd seems appeased, dispersing.
Thank goodness you have Terry, you think to yourself as you take his hand, letting him lead you back to the car, trying not to stumble. He was so good at talking you both out of situations that could get you into trouble.
“Come on, sweet thing,” he purrs in your ear, tugging you along and making you quicken your pace to keep up with him. “Let’s go home.”
---
He's mean. He's so mean! HOW CAN WE LOVE THIS MAN?!
But we do.
#thomas ian griffith#terry silver#terry silver x reader#kk3#karate kid#the karate kid 3#dark desires october#extremely dark#smut#graphic smut#gaslighting#coercion#dubious consent#honestly probably noncon#threats of violence#maybe don't read if you're scared of heights
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i now really want to hear more about con!cala forcing c!sam and c!quackity to play dnd with her
OH IT WOULD BE CHAOTIC BUT AT THE SAME TIME SO FUN AND HILARIOUS
So the thing is- Cala could go horrible Dungeon Master mode and win the game quickly by making them be level 1 and letting them fight tarrasques. That would be easy right? But no- Cala is very fair in what she wants to do. She could rig it up SO EASILY, but she knows if she does then it would give Quackity all the more reason to do it on his end as well as Sam. So she would make it fair and very balanced.
She would definitely help with making their characters. Like genuinely help them sort it out and make sure they’re not cheating on their end as well. It would lead to her having to redo Sam’s sheet because he would make his character overpowered.
Quackity and Sam i feel would make characters that are very similar to them but not actually them- and Cala would allow that uwu
Sam would definitely be a Paladin and Quackity would be a Rogue. :3
Quackity would attempt to cheat though first session in by bringing a loaded set of dnd dice- very custom made and beautiful with the 1 being a duck and a 20 being :]
However Cala would remedy that problem quickly by saying that they have to use dice that is in the dice bucket she has. And it’s just how it sounds- a bucket full of dice.
Quackity would try to convince her and she would immediately just, “oh if you want these dice to be put Into play then i Can use them then!! :3”
That makes him use the bucket.
First session is a classic dnd quest: helping a town with their giant rat problem. It’s something simple of Cala would make them think outside the box. As well as that Cala would sprinkle some in game lore here and there, but not too much.
Cala gets very serious when she DMs. She isn’t a scary dm but she really gets into the role of telling her story. She usually would be very spacey or fidgety but it all goes away when she’s in the middle of explaining the story.
Quackity would think it’s just a one time session- all they have to do is beat this quest and that’s it— but that’s when Cala would pull in a cliffhanger of a bigger problem right at the end of the session and she just smiles and goes: “Well- that’s the first session! So same time next week?”
Quackity would immediately be surprised and ask what she means and she explains that this isn’t a one time thing- just because they passed one quest doesn’t mean they won the whole game. So until they beat basically the main storyline she made then no one has won yet.
Sam immediately would understand what she meant, and she’s right- the terms were if either of them won the game and them beating the first quest only helped a small bit with their goal. They still have a long way to go!
So they would play dnd weekly- or biweekly since Cala is busy. And Cala also made Quackity agree to the terms that neither Sam or him can torture Dream in between sessions. I feel like that would be in exchange for Cala making the session balanced. This also means Cala would drag it out as long as possible. Because she knows what she’s doing.
Obviously it would get harder the more she plays with them- she would make it more difficult; make puzzles, riddles, any solution that would be different to the actual one. And also some of the quests as well as the npcs are a bit… familiar to Sam and Quackity.
Like an alcoholic satyr who is the leader of a country that’s on the midst of a revolution.
Or a triton who loves to build and is the demigod of the sea and lightning.
Not all of them are like that, but she defintiely sprinkled some familiarity with them. They would either love it or hate it.
And if you think Cala would ignore the backstories the two made for their characters, even if they were poorly made, you have another thing coming because she would adapt those stories and manage to put them into the session seamlessly.
Cala loves to tell stories no matter what, and she does her best even in this situation where her and Dream’s lives are on the line.
I feel like Sam and Quackity would have a guilty pleasure of doing this- like they enjoy it but they’re salty that they are. Quackity would try and rig the game up and Sam would try and intimidate Cala but she usually doesn’t take their shit.
It would genuinely be a 50/50 on if Cala would win or Quackity at the end too- but she would make it fun and make it last as long as possible.
#I was thinking a lot about this#I love this scenario so much it’s so funny but also very creative#Cala may Have no thoughts but she knows what she’s doing?#cala writes#dsmp#dreamsmp#dream smp#c!dream#con au#self insert#c!quackity#c!awesamdude#c!sam
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Seed Family Game Night Headcanons
> Joseph is absolute ass at Monopoly because he has no business sense whatsoever
> Actually Monopoly is off the table most nights because if John loses, he’s inconsolable for hours
> Jacob has the best luck with dice and drawing cards and it infuriates John and Faith because he has to be reminded CONSTANTLY how to play
> John cheats. If there is a way to rig the game He Will, so he’s not allowed to be card dealer anymore
> Faith is The Queen of Poker and any other game that requires deception
> “Jacob. It’s your turn.” Jacob: *is visibly dozing off*
> Joseph tries to bail his siblings out of jail or pay off their debts when the rules clearly don’t allow for it
> Faith hums to herself in the quiet between turns and everyone absentmindedly taps their fingers or nods along
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The sun melted into horizon and night began to fall, The moon reflected in the water, stars twinkled brightly "One two three four..." Harry said moving a tiny silver wheelbarrow around the board "Community chest" he said picking up a yellow card "go to jail? Oh come on!" he said reading the card.
Bradley and Neilson laughed at him as he reluctantly moved his game piece "Don't drop the soap" Neilson said to him.
"Shut up" Harry said handing him the dice.
He shook them up and threw them on the board "Double sixes!" he said moving the small silver thimble.
"Oh! What? look at at" Adam said to Neilson "Madison Avenue, I own it, pay up Carter" he said sticking his hand out, Neilson took some of his money and handed it to Adam.
“How about we make this game more interesting?” Natalie asked.
“How do you make monopoly interesting?” Adam asked.
“We could play strip monopoly” she said.
“Five guys, one girl…that’s not rapey or creepy at all” Adam said.
“Come on! It’ll be fun” she said.
“Yeah for you” Bradley said to her.
“It’s just another way of getting us to take our clothes off for you” he said.
“What makes you think I won’t be the one stripping?” she asked.
"Girl’s got a point, set it up” Kyle said.
“Whoa whoa…let’s not get too excited here people” Neilson said “She is my girlfriend you know!” he said.
“So what are you saying? Only we’re allowed to strip and not her?” Kyle asked.
“…Yeah!” Neilson said, they all began to argue amongst themselves.
“Boys! Boys! Let’s just play and see what happens” Natalie said.
“Fine…but if any of her clothes come off you better keep your eyes closed!” Neilson said.
“What’s the big deal? Bradley’s seen her naked, why can’t we?” Adam asked Neilson.
“Do we really need to keep bringing that up?” Bradley asked.
“Okay here are the rules, whenever someone lands on someone’s property instead of money that person’s gotta strip” Natalie said to them.
“Alright” Bradley said.
“Sounds easy enough” Kyle said.
“Are we really going to do this?” Harry asked nervously.
“Why you got something to hide?” Kyle asked.
“Or something you’re ashamed to admit?” Neilson asked amused.
“No!” Harry said to him.
“You guys ready?” she asked.
“After you” Kyle said handing her the dice.
A while later the boys’ clothes piled up on the table, Natalie wore Bradley’s shirt over hers “Well would you look at that!” she said “I own that one too!” she said.
“You don’t say” Adam said irritated.
Harry covered himself as they all sat there barely clothed “i’m cold, can I please put my pants back on?” Harry asked.
“I can’t believe you rigged this game!” Bradley said.
“How did I rig it?” she asked laughing.
“You bought everything!” Neilson said.
“Yeah, yeah I did” she said laughing “Okay, you guys know the deal” she said looking at them all.
“Look all we’ve got left is our socks alright?” Kyle said.
“Oh no…that’s not all you got left” she said smiling.
“Are you kidding me?!” Adam asked.
“Pay up or shut up” Natalie said.
“Your girlfriend is one messed up chick” Adam said to Neilson.
“I know” he replied nodding in agreement.
“Oh come on it’s not that big of a deal…and I’m anxious to see just how big exactly…” she said.
“You are a freak” Kyle said to her.
“Come on! Come on come on come on!” she said they all looked at each other begrudgingly, they then each put their boxers on the table “This is the best idea I’ve ever had” she said giddily “We should play this more often!” she said.
“No!” they all replied.
“Huh” Neilson said “Good for you” he said to Bradley.
“Why are you looking at it?!” Adam asked.
“It’s hard not to!” Neilson said to him.
“Damn Kyle” Adam said.
“Yes, very nice” Natalie said.
“Hey!” Neilson said to her.
They heard a loud bang from outside “What was that?” Harry asked nervously.
“Oh the fireworks must be starting” Natalie said “The neighbors set them off over the lake every year, come on let’s go watch” she said getting up.
“Uh…Nat?” Bradley asked.
“What?” she asked “Oh right” she said picking up all their clothes from the table “I forgot these” she said trying to run away with them.
“Nat!” Neilson yelled at her.
“You guys are so easy” she said throwing their clothes back to them, they quickly pulled their clothes back on and joined Natalie outside on the deck watching the fireworks boom overhead, their colors illuminating the dark sky.
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The Magician's Bar
Lenard opened the bag of chips and dumped them into a bowl. He then brought it over to the couch where he and Michael were hanging out playing video games.
“So what should we play?” asked Michael.
“I just got Demon Masquerade,” said Lenard.
“Sweet,” said Michael, selecting it. After an hour or two of playing and drinking the topic was on VIP bars. “I hate those stupid elite VIP bars. They have one for everyone now. I even heard from Damian that there is another "special" elite bar on the edge of town.”
“Who's allowed in?” burped Lenard.
“Magician's,” answered Michael, “Can you believe it? Damian said that in order to enter they had to pull off a small, but impressive magic trick. He saw a guy float an apple, a girl turned one dice into two, and someone turned a wand into a flower.”
“Dang,” said Lenard, taking a drink then sat there for a monument and stated, “I’m going to sneak in.”
Michael paused the game and turned to Lenard, “How?”
“Well… I don’t know,” said Lenard, “differently cheating” After that, they spoke about it for a little bit then switched to other topics for the rest of the night.
The next morning when Lenard woke up he had a foggy memory of the previous nights. Other than that his day went like any other day. Wake up, breakfast, school, work, home. When he got home, he went to play Demon Masquerade to see that they made it to the halfway point. Which reminded him of the previous night. Then set out to do homework.
During homework time Lenard’s mind kept going to this supposed magician's elite bar and how much he wanted to see what was going on inside. After homework, he made a plan to cheat his way in. He got two gloves and put small hooks on the palms of each glove. Second, he got a small string and put hoops on both ends. Next, he got a cotton ball and pulled out some stings, then added it to the other string with hoops. Finally, he rigged a lighter to flicker when he flicked his wrists.
That weekend Lenard asked Michael where the bar was again and placed a bet of 50 dollars that he could get in. When he arrived there was a small line to get into what seemed like a dead bar on the outside. The people in front of him made light from nowhere, lighting around their hands, scaly hands, etc. While he wanted he attached the string to one glove.
When he got up the bouncer said, “Prove you can enter.” Lenard put his glove together attaching the string to both gloves, then pulled them apart. Next, he stealthily flicked his wrists starting it on fire from palm to palm. Finally, he smothered the fire between his palms getting rid of the evidence.
The bouncer looked at Lenard then said, “Go enough. You may enter,” moving aside to let Lenard enter the bar. It was way different from the outside, for one thing, they weren't all human. No, surely they were just in cosplay or something. He could not tell why they were dressed up, but there had to be a reason right? As he walked to get a drink he saw people do bigger and fancier tricks than outside, which seemed impossible to pull off, and drinks look like they were made of fire.
As he got to the bar, he noticed that it was run by a lizard female. No, a lizard custom it had to be, but even that still sounded weird.
“Uh, hi. Can I get a beer?” asked Lenard.
The lizard custom girl said, “Hu, you must be new here. We don't sell beer or other non-magical alcohol. It’s quite a point of pride here ‘only magical food and drink.’ So what will it be?”
Lenard sat there for a moment not knowing what to do or what's going on before finally saying, “What do you recommend?”
“Dragons breath,” said the girl, “definitely. It's a lot cheaper here than in other places.”
“I’ll take that then,” said Lenard, then the girl moved to make the drink grabbing things that he has never seen before. He pulled out his wallets then cash, “So how much is it?”
The girl sighed, “We only take delses,” then added, “You know what it's on the house. Welcome to Phoenix Ash," after seeing the confused look on Lenard's face. Lenard wondered what that meant they were in Ohio. He took the glass and downed it. When the girl noticed she tried to stop him, “No wait it's a-” and was cut off by fire coming from Lenard's mouth, pushing him into a man in a demon custom.
The demon custom man spilled his drink on a guy in a troll custom and from there it spiraled into an all-out brawl. Punching, kicking, and... chanting? Causing the bouncer to enter the fray. Fire, ice, and beings appeared and disappeared. Somehow the people dressed with wings got to the ceiling. The girl behind the bar ducked down then the bouncer suddenly turned into a golem. Is this real? Are those not customs? Is this real magic? What am I doing here? This is possibly the worst mistake in my life, Lenard figured.
Then a human girl appeared from behind the bar. She snapped then everyone and everything froze. Drinks in the air, a wolf guy jumping on a guy, everything except Lenard, “Okay who started this, when I-” she started but was cut off by Lenard.
“Sorry, that was me,” said Lenard and instantly thought "why did I do anything", the girl just stared in awe at him. Then everything fell.
“Jack, Abigail get everyone out to Phoenix Ash and clean up,” said the girl, “Except you,” she said pointing to Lenard, “We need to talk.”
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Wizards Hearts: Arc en Ciel
Wizards Hearts Game/Fest ran for a full four months, and is now officially over, though we are ever appreciative towards our readers for spreading love to Drarry fics old and new, short and long. 900 comments were left as a result of the game.
Players were sorted and assigned at random to four different teams. All team activities and discussions were completely optional but could yield extra points to help win the game! There were weekly team activities and longer, creative team activities where players could imagine new, fun headcanons in the Harry Potter universe and perhaps a few stories of their own!
Throughout the game, creatures were directed to create their own magical casinos, including locations, menu, games played in the bounds, and other fun activities!
This is the information gathered by our Team 4, self-designated as the casino ‘Arc en Ciel’.
Activity 1
Arc En Ciel looks like just a small, slightly run down, crêperie. However, it is known for selling the best crêpes in Paris and inside there is a secret entrance to the casino.
It is located on the border between muggle and wizarding paris, with the crêperie entrance in muggle Paris, and the casino in the wizarding part of the city.
It is a family business and the owner of the casino is married to the head crêpe chef (well known as the best magical crêpe chef). The chef is also nonbinary and a metamorphmagus.
To enter the casino, you have to order one of the signature wizarding crêpes. When it is brought to you, there will be a special casino chip attached to the bottom of the plate, with a sticking charm. In the upstairs hall, you will find an old marble bust. You must insert your casino chip into its open mouth and a secret passageway to the casino will open up.
The selection of magical crêpes offered is really what it is most famous for. Their signature dish are the rainbow crêpes, which will temporarily change the colour of your hair after eating.
Other crêpes include:
Mood crêpes, which change the colour of your hair according to your mood
Aura crêpes, which make your aura visible
Felix Felicis crêpes, which taste like the potion without the effects of it
Amortentia crêpes, which taste like your favourite food
Romance crêpes, which can make heart, flowers, or bubbles float around you
Spark crêpes, which make colourful sparks shoot from your mouth
Dragon crêpes, which make you breath (harmless) fire, like a dragon
Wingardium Leviosa crêpes, which make you float off the ground
And more!
Activity 2
Re: Mundungus Fletcher
Mundugus Fletcher was caught in Arc en Ciel Crêperie & Wizarding Casino attempting to switch out the decks at one of the tables with a deck that would always provide him with a winning hand. However, the Charm he cast on the deck backfired on him and caused all players at the table to have the same winning hand, and he was caught while shouting at the employee at the table that they had rigged the cards, and he was supposed to win the round.
Re: Game Rules
Arc en Ciel Crêperie & Wizarding Casino is most famous for their Wizarding game of Farkle, a dice game involving six dice and the goal of the game is to be the first to reach 10,000 points. The dice will sometimes shift and change of their own accord, to the players’ success or failure at equal measure. The probability of risk in either direction is a thrill, and one players who are high risk takers enjoy immensely.
Activity 3
Although Arc en Ciel Crêperie & Wizarding Casino is established in France and therefore the country does not traditionally celebrate Hallowe'en, the new manager spent some time in the United States and fell in love with the holiday, and pulls out all the stops for the Casino’s guests. For the entire month of October, they hire real ghosts from around the country to haunt the casino and spook the guests (although there was one year where a ghost was caught helping a guest to cheat at cards and needed to be kicked out…it wasn’t a pretty sight.) The night of All Hallow’s Eve, a vampire band famous for their guitar solos performs on the main stage, and the bar serves specialty “spooky” cocktails.
For the holiday season, Arc en Ciel Crêperie & Wizarding Casino has several seasonal crêpes including a pumpkin crêpe and an apple cinnamon spice crêpe, which can be paired with specialty cocktails such as the Howling Mary Sunset or the Hot Buttered Devil Tonic.
Activity 4
Written by Arc en Ciel, about Golden Scales
Article:
PLAYING WITH FIRE
Known for housing well over a thousand dragons with whom patrons can get up close and personal, Golden Scales Casino seems to have housed something else quite personal last Saturday night. Spotted in a heated argument by the bar, ex-rivals Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy appear to have slipped into their schoolyard animosity once more. Eyewitnesses described the scene as fiery, and not just because they were flanked by four dragons!
While the specific details of their disagreement are not concrete, sources say that it began when some of the fire from the light show veered a bit too close to their table, causing some jostling and giving way to hurled insults. Patrons could not tell who was yelling to start—it was a masquerade event, after all!—until Mr Potter ripped Mr Malfoy’s mask from his face to point his wand at it. No spells were thrown until both had been escorted closer to the exits, at which point one of them let off an impulsive hex in retaliation to another patron who had consumed the Queen of the Night cocktail, Golden Scale’s signature beverage which allows the drinker to breathe fire for a short while. This in turn caused great disturbance near the entrance, throwing off some of the other casino-goers who were involved in the Halloween Treasure Hunt. While an obvious misunderstanding, it is evident that fire is a sore subject for the pair and both resumed their aggressions towards each other, eventually being asked to quieten down or leave the premises.
It appears that while the pair arrived together they made separate exits, both shortly after one another: Malfoy at an apparition point and Potter via the golden elevator. What this means for the pair is yet to be determined, but speculators now wonder if this was simply a night out amongst friends or something that holds a deeper meaning.
A source from within the casino says that both men are return visitors, frequenting the old dragon’s den atop the Dragon’s Hoard Mountain Range multiple times per year; from the visceral reactions to dragon breath, this reporter doubts there is much truth to these claims. Will we see them there again soon? And more importantly, will they be together? Only time will tell…
Memo:
By now you have all certainly seen the reporting surrounding Harry Potter & Draco Malfoy’s appearance at Golden Scales. While it does not look favourably on the casino, any publicity about this pair is good publicity as surely others will wish to see the scene of their disagreement, boosting their business in the coming weeks.
Should you hear any patrons discussing the article, we would not frown upon you making an aside comment or two that paints Golden Scales in bad light. Mentioning safety concerns about the dragons setting off their argument, poor handling of their argument, even that the source within the casino was clearly spreading blatant lies within the press and breaching patron confidentiality.
Your performance and cooperation with this initiative in the coming weeks is imperative. We will be offering staff incentives for most well executed dissuasion.
Written by Golden Scales, about Arc en Ciel
AUROR MISSION GONE WRONG: ARC EN CIEL TO BLAME?
Arc en Ciel Crêperie & Wizarding Casino had prepared for their traditional All Hallow’s Eve celebration. They’d whipped up a few batches of their famous crêpes—some of which made you shoot sparks out of your mouth or made you float off the ground; they’d hired their favoured vampire band; and they had their famous ghosts at the ready. The only thing that they’d not been prepared for was a sting operation conducted by the infamous duo: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.
Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy had been working a case that had taken them all around the seedy underbelly of Paris. They’d been called in from London because the ring leader was one of the top criminals that the DMLE was interested in catching. Their search had led them to a certain vampire, who also happened to be the drummer in the infamous band that Arc en Ciel hired each year for their All Hallow’s Eve celebrations. So, Potter and Malfoy thought they’d dress up as casino guests and finally catch the bastard.
They were playing Farkle, which was Arc en Ciel’s famous game and eating some of their famous Dragon crêpes, when one of the hired ghosts passed through Potter, causing him to slightly choke on his Dragon crepe and what was supposed to be harmless fire shot out of his mouth. The harmless fire turned out not to be so harmless (due to potential crepe ingredients and ghost interaction) and the table started smoking. The other players started to scream, shouting “Fire! Fire!” and the host tried to calm everyone down by grabbing the tablecloth and shaking it vigorously. Unfortunately, this only served to fan the flames, making the fire larger. Potter tried to put out the flames while Malfoy went to chase after the vampire drummer, who had noticed all the commotion and attempted to slip out. Malfoy was not able to catch them, though, because all the guests were stampeding out the single entrance to Arc en Ciel (which has to be a fire hazard).
Now, Potter and Malfoy have to go back to the drawing board, and no one is happy. Readers, you tell us, is Arc en Ciel to blame?!
Activity 5
Read here on AO3
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Camp Half Blood Tour (post TOA)
Cabin 1 (Zeus)
This cabin is empty now
Sometimes it just starts raining inside for no discernable reason
Don’t go inside if you’re afraid of being randomly electrocuted
People still go inside anyways
There’s little memorial shrines for children of Zeus throughout the centuries until now (his children don’t tend to live long and happy lives)
Also people go in on dares to see if they’ll get hit by a randomly manifested bolt of lightning
Cabin 2 (Hera)
It used to be The actual scariest place in camp
Eventually some people did go in to remodel, our former camper Jason drew up some really nice plans (what with Hera being his patron)
Hera is the goddess of marriage and family, the cabin is supposed to be a safe space
There are some demigods she hates who refuse to go in but for the most part the cabin has become more comfortable (blankets and pillows strewn around, books all over)
It’s a nice place to escape crowded cabins (unless Hera personally dislikes you)
Cabin 3 (Poseidon)
Poseidon’s two demigod children, Percy and Tyson, live in California now, but they stay here when they visit
Tyson made it fancier, it has lots of sheild and tridents that he built lining the walls
There’s also a magic Iris message fountain in there and campers are allowed to use it to make calls home when Percy’s gone
Cabin 4 (Demeter)
The plants are taking over
Honestly it’s just as much of a home to assorted nymphs trying to keep out of monster infested woods as it is to Demeter’s children
The campers here are in charge of the strawberry fields and therefore money
There’s lots of ideas for strawberry-related products or new breeds of strawberries strewn around
Also tons of advertizing ideas and financial plans (most of which involve adding more farmland)
There’s always at least one camper arguing that camp should switch it’s cash crop to rhubarbs or something because that’s obviouly the superior plant
The floorboards, bedposts, and doors all have plants growing out of them
Cabin 5 (Ares)
It’s so well defended no one other than the children of Ares have ever gotten in
Oh my gods is that a land mine?!
Let’s move on
Cabin 6 (Athena)
Look, just because Athena’s kids are smart, that doesn’t mean they’re actually organized
They cooperate very well to stow everything away for Cabin checks and they always win, but at any other time the entire cabin is covered in papers and opened books
If there’s no actual battle happening to strategize for, they’ll just make plans for every theoretically possible scenerio
They also read and reread Greek mythology constantly so they can recognize monsters
They’re a very helpful group to talk to before a quest
Cabin 7 (Apollo)
It’s always ready to be converted to a hospital within 30 seconds of notice
Not as flashy as the Ares Cabin, but it’s actually the best foritifued place in camp when it needs to be
Listen, you do NOT want your foes to be able to get into your hospital
They’ve recently also started a therapy wing, a lot of campers really need someone to talk to at times, and they’re allowed to go to the hospital when they need it
The campers also never have any rest, the cabin is constantly expanding because 1) Apollo is a hoe and has way too many demigod children and 2) there’s always someone who was injured because they fell off a pegasus or got burnt by the climbing wall
This is also the music cabin, but they eventually had to build a seperate (soundproof) practice room because the hospital patients did not appreciate being woken up by the bagpipes at 2am
Also the campers all wake at at like 5am and often serenade the entire camp so be prepared for that
Cabin 8 (Artemis)
It’s also usually empty, but the hunters of Artemis stay here when they’re at camp
The walls are painted with trees and wolves, it’s really pretty
But there’s not much that’s actually functional inside because the hunters are so good at bringing their camp with them that there’s not much they would need
There is a huge stock of arrows though, just in case
Cabin 9 (Hephaestus)
You can go in, and it’ll probably be fun, but there’s no guarentee you’ll ever come out
There’s so many projects going on at any given time
At this point, there’s a safety goggles dispenser as you walk in the door, because sparks and scraps of metal are flying constantly
Are they supposed to be keeping their projects in the bunker or workshop? Yes. Does that stop them from “just tinkering on this one project for a second?” No.
If you break a weapon or sacred object, this is the place to go. One of the campers will literaly take it from your hands and start hammering at it before you can even explain what’s wrong.
Cabin 10 (Aphrodite)
Has become the official relationship advice cabin
Do you need help talking to someone you have a crush on? Do you want to know if your crush likes you back? Do you need to eat an unhealthy amount of chocolate? Are you frustrated that your friends won’t realize that they like each other already?
This is the place for you
They also have a collection of retro camp half blood shirts throughout the years if that’s your thing
And they know all the celebrity gossip outside of camp, they’ve replaced the internet
Cabin 11 (Hermes)
You know how the Aphrodite cabin has celebrity gossip? Hermes has the memes.
Honestly if you really want internet access they’d probably be willing to rig something up for you, even if it does attract monsters
It’s become less and less crowded as the additional cabins are built and demigods are claimed
Finally got remodelled to have enough bunks that no one is sleeping on the floor
Except for the people who want to sleep on the floor
You personal items are not safe here, trust no one
Also do not play any games involving dice against the Hermes kids, they will win and you will jot be able to figure out how
Cabin 12 (Dionysus)
Dionysus doesn’t actually have many demigod kids (he’s also very attached to his wife Ariadne) so the cabin is surprisingly unoccupied a lot of the time
That’s not the same thing as empty though
Dionysus is the god of transgendered people, so his cabin has become the official LGBTQ+ center
There are pride flags EVERYWHERE
Also there was a moonshine rig made by some Hermes and Demeter kids a while ago but that’s not important shh
Other cabins
We’ve been over the original twelve cabins, but they’re far from everything
Starting two years ago, we’ve been trying to expand the cabins, and work has gone quickly
Annabeth, the previous Athena head counselor, started drawing up plans first, then the mantle was taken up by Jason, son of Zeus, and now plans are made by a committee of head counselors
There’s not enought time to hit every cabin on our tour, but here’s a few highlights:
Cabin 13 (Hades) - sometimes you’ll see zombies coming out of this cabin, don’t worry, that’s normal, they’re supposed to be here
Cabin 20 (Hecate) - the place to go if you want to learn more about magic or the mist. Just be warned, the campers probably won’t steal your cash, but they’re not against taking eyebrows or toenails
Cabin 23 (Hestia) - the safest and comfiest place in CHB, but it only appears if you really need it. Campers frequently argue sbout whether or not it’s actually real.
Cabin 26 (Kymopoleia) - no demigod children live here, but make sure you stop by to pray for camp to not be destroyed in a hurricane every once in a while. This is also the first cabin that was built based on our past camper Jason Grace’s plans
Cabin 34 (the muses) - our most recently built cabin, although more are planned out every day. This is the place to go for help if you’re in tears because of writers block.
That wraps up the cabins section of our tour, check in next time to see the pavilion and training grounds
#percy jackson#pjo#percy jackson and the olympians#rick riordan#riordanverse#heroes of olympus#hoo#trials of apollo#toa#jason grace#tyson#annabeth chase#camp half blood#cabin4life
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TMNT Donatello x Reader: Sudden Interest
@mariamonteon97 asked: Hi, could I request a #75 for donnie?
Fair warning, it’s kinda long.
Warnings: Cussing (as usual)
Word count: 2685
You and Donatello have never really been close.
In fact, if you’re being honest, out of all the brothers he seems to be the most unapproachable of the four.
When April had described each of her “turtle friends’” personalities, you had been most intrigued by the intellect she had promised from the mutant who donned a purple bandanna. Upon introduction, however, there was disappointingly minimal interaction and no display of the intelligence you’d been expecting.
Instead, you were appraised for a brief moment, a golden gaze behind ridiculously oversized goggles observing every inch of you in an almost clinical fashion. You could basically see the notes he was probably committing to memory based off of your appearance, to be simply filed away in the miscellaneous sector of his mind. Then, with a polite exchange of names, it was over. Donatello disappeared back into his lab where the only indication of his presence was the occasional muffled curse and distant clatter of metal.
Despite this disappointment, you find that his brothers are easy enough to like; each offering a unique personality to bide your time with.
You learn to hover-board with Mikey and bond over culinary adventures within the kitchen together, though that proves to be quite hazardous to your health at times. The leader of the troupe also occasionally invites you to simply relax with him and talk about mutual interests and individual perspectives.
Though, admittedly, you find it hard to remain at ease with Leo. His ice blue eyes are too intense and penetrate the soul even during the simplest conversations, proving it difficult to extended periods of time in his presence. On the other hand, you find Raphael to be incredibly straight forward with no hidden thoughts smuggled behind his gaze. He’s gruff, uncaring and wields a “charming” sense of humour that can only be redeemed by the depth of his personality.
Despite the observations you make of your new friends, there is one who has evaded examination. Even as the days turn to weeks and weeks to months, Donatello remains a mystery to you.
It almost feels as if he’s purposely avoiding you at this point, though, you can’t for the life of you figure out what you had done. What had you said upon meeting him that offended him enough to steer clear?
It’s only now, seven months later, do you see him for more than a thirty second window since meeting him. Seated at the table with all four brothers, you find yourself precariously perched between Donatello and Leonardo on a rickety stool. There is a weathered game of monopoly set up on the wooden bench and you scowl upon landing on Donatello’s property.
He peers down at the board from behind his glasses, identifying the property name then sifting through his cards to find the cost of rent.
“One hundred and fifty dollars,” he states, gaze shifting from the cardboard in his hand to meet yours. Eyes narrowed, you hand him the pretend cash, fingers lightly brushing his palm. While you grit your teeth at the touch of his skin, he seems unbothered by the transaction. You catch yourself glaring at the board for more reasons than one as Mikey snatches the dice to roll his turn.
As the game rolls on, you notice Raphael begins to grow heated in the battle against his competitors. You quickly remove yourself from the equation by not allowing your ego to be baited by his barbed comments that are thinly veiled as friendly smack talk. Eventually, the hot head doesn’t bother covering his remarks and outright goes for Donatello when he lands on the purple clad turtles’ property with three houses occupying the space.
“Five hundred and sixty dollars,” Donatello grins a rare, toothy smile and you find yourself almost dazzled by the rarity of the sight. He flashes another lopsided quirk of his lips when Raph groans, holding out his hand, “pay up!”
Meanwhile, the resident muscle looks as if he’s about to blow his top. At the sound of another snarl, everyone waits with baited breath in anticipation of his frustration. “You shouldn’t be allowed to play this shit, Don,” Raph snaps, slapping the money into his brothers’ hand.
“And why not?” Donnie shoots back, immediately sorting his new income into the according piles of his money.
“You’re basically a walkin’ computer,” Raph starts, his voice rough in which you initially assume to be frustration. However, when you see the red clad turtle shoot Mikey a mischievous glance, you begin to suspect foul play. “You got numbers, statistics and strategies up in that head and that’s all you know how to do. Playin’ with you is like playin’ against a bot, game might as well be rigged.”
You frown at the comments being made, then you realise that they’re simply being said to bait Donatello. The second the clever turtle bites, he will start to play irrationally, making bold and risky moves in order to both impress and thwart his competitors; that is when his brothers can move in to take the victory.
“What would you suggest I do, then?” Don says dryly, “Should I play blindfolded and plug my ears in order to give you a fighting chance?”
Raphael leans in and you watch the unnerving grin pull at his lips. “Nah,” he snickers, golden eyes appraising his brother in an unsaid challenge, “I want ya to play a little risky. Show me what you got, Don.”
The turtle in question quirks the ridge of his brow bone, shifting in his seat.
“Don’t bite, Donatello,” you mutter before he can retaliate. Though your voice is gentle, the table falls silent at the sound of it. You continue, “they’re trying to throw you off your game, it’s the only way they’ll win against you.”
His narrowed eyes watch you carefully, an inquisitive gleam in his usually neutral gaze. Donatello licks his lips, tilting his head fractionally with a softly spoken, “noted.”
Despite your exchange being brief, all occupants of the table remain quiet and motionless for a moment. You ignore the way Leonardo’s gaze constantly flickers between both Donnie and yourself, scrutinising eyes searching for something unnamed.
“Well, there goes any chance you had of winning the game too,” Raphael rolls his eyes, leaning back in his seat with a salty sneer.
“If I come first thanks to manipulation rather than skill then that’s not a win,” you snark, snatching the dice from their place before him. “Not that you’d know.”
His eyes widen and the sneer that twists his lips evolves into a mean grin, “oh, it’s on Short-Stack.”
The game continues (quite aimlessly) for another half hour, until, the leader sighs deeply and bids you and his brethren goodnight. You tip your head in his direction, brows furrowing as you catch the last glance he sends you before striding from the room.
When Mikey yawns, the jolting realisation of the hour hits you; time has flown and it’s much later than you anticipated. You don’t want to walk the streets of New York City alone in the dark but you also don’t want to burden the turtles to take you home. Raphael and Mikey’s patrol shift is not due for another couple of hours and you’re definitely not going to be able to stay awake until then.
“You can sleep here tonight,” Donatello murmurs, interrupting your spiralling thoughts. You glance up, taken aback by the gracious offer- coming from him, no less! His sight catches yours and he immediately glances away, resorting to reorganising his cards for the third time in a row. “I mean, only if you would like to. We can set you up on the couch; it’s much more comfortable than it sounds.”
You gape at him for a long moment, lingering on the way he stutters over his sudden uncertainty.
“Wow, Don,” Raph remarks dryly, reminding you of his presence. “First girl you invite over and you stick her with the couch.”
You briefly see Donatello’s eyes widen before Mikey croons disappointedly, “yeah, bro. That’s not how you treat a lady. You’re supposed to offer her your bed.”
The purple clad almost chokes on his saliva and your face is burning from both the audacity of the comments and your newfound embarrassment.
“No!” You splutter, catching the attention of all of those who sit at the table. You gather yourself before continuing, “No. It’s okay, the couch sounds great. Thanks, Donatello.”
The turtle in question exhales a little, as if allowing himself to breathe again. There’s a short silence as he regains his composure, his eyes flickering to meet yours with a gentle curiosity.
“You can call me Donnie,” he finally offers, standing to his feet quietly. “I’ll go get you what you need for the night.”
Watching his retreating figure, you assume that he’s talking about a pillow and perhaps a blanket.
“Damn, who knew you were such a killjoy! Let the nerd squirm a bit,” Raph chuckles, letting slip a groan as he stands to his feet. Your narrowed gaze follows his movements, unsure of whether he is being sarcastic or is simply an asshole. He eyes you intently from behind the red fabric of his bandanna, “Don’s real weird about ya so it’s fun to tease him over it- watch him suffer a bit for once since he’s good at most things.”
Just an asshole then.
You try not to dwell on what he means by that, but the connotations were unnerving.
“Don’t worry babe, we’re just having fun,” Mikey shrugs, though his attempt to reassure you has the opposite effect. You try a smile in response but you suspect that it looks more like a grimace, provoking an intense eye roll from Raphael. The temperamental turtle waves his hand at you both dismissively before making his exit, what you assume to be his version of ‘goodnight’.
The chatter that ensues fades into background noise as the remaining excitable turtle leads you to the couch. “Donnie will be back with your stuff, but,” Mikey trails off cheekily, “if you need anything my bedroom is always open.”
You roll your eyes and thank him dryly for the ‘offer’, you know for a fact that if you need anything you will be going straight to Leo’s room. At least the leader wouldn’t suggest that you should share a bed with him, which is what you'd guess to be Mikey’s first response.
The mischievous terrapin shrugs with playful indifference, “the offer stands!”
“Cut it out, Mikey,” a new voice calls from one of the tunnel entrances. Both yourself and the jokester turn to observe Donatello, eyeing the hilariously tall stack of pillows and blankets in his arms.
“Damn. What; is she meant to be making a fort with all that?” Mikey whistles. Turning to you, he adds, “if so, can I join?”
“Mikey!” Your voice is blurred against Donatello’s and Mikey throws his hands up as a sign of surrender.
“Alright, alright, no worries,” he rolls his eyes, “I’m going. Goodnight!”
You bid him good night, ignoring the subtle wink you receive as he turns and leaves the room.
“So, I have here a few things you might need to make your stay here more enjoyable,” Donatello says, setting down the pile of sleeping material onto the couch. You can’t help but snicker at his travel agent choice of wording. He spares you a quick glance at the sound but continues to talk. “So, I know it gets chilly in here at night, hence why I’ve brought four pillows and four blankets. They’re all a different fabric, so you can choose which one you’d prefer to be in direct contact with you and the rest you can organise to your liking.”
Your eyes widen slightly, four different fabrics? The turtle literally wanted nothing to do with you just a few hours ago, now he’s providing an array of blankets to maximise your comfort?
“Thanks, Donatello,” you say, visibly bewildered. He nods his head and places the materials onto the couch.
“I’ve also brought you a bottle of water,” he says, unlatching a clear bottle from where it was tucked on the side of his utility belt. He grips the case lightly in his hands and offers it to you. Staring at him for a long moment you slowly take it with a small nod.
You have so many questions simmering beneath your skin as you both shift around in uncomfortable silence. He doesn't seem to want to leave just yet and you're not sure as to whether you should sit down with him sill there.
"Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?" The words blurt from your mouth, each syllable following in quick succession of each other. You almost want to slap a hand over your lips at the rude inquiry, though you refrain if not only to maintain your dignity.
Donatello's gaze hardens slightly, but not out of offence. He gets your confusion; he knows that his behaviour would seem odd to you and he doesn't expect you to understand the trip. Possibly because he doesn't quite know what triggered it himself.
He just simply wasn't expecting such a blunt question.
You almost regret opening your mouth when the silence stretches and you can't help but feel like a bug being observed beneath a scrutinizing golden lense. It's only when his expression softens and he scratches the back of his do you allow yourself to breathe, unsure of why you were so anxious to begin with.
"I realised that I had severely misjudged you. I'm trying to make up for it," Donatello mutters, a timidness to his voice that you have never witnessed previously within him.
Despite his words you can't help the indignation that claws at your chest, eventually climbing out of your mouth and into the air, "you never even gave me a chance.”
The turtle’s mouth closes softly, his silence encouraging you to continue, “You took one look at me and wrote me off completely.”
“I know,” he stammers, “I know I was wrong.”
“Then why?” You question with furrowed brows. What was it about you that repelled him so much? It was the million dollar question.
“I just,” he just about squeaked, casting his gaze downwards. You’d have thought it impossible for someone his size to seem small; yet, Donatello seemed to be shrinking into himself further by the second. “I didn’t know what to expect after my... ‘experiences’ with April; I just figured it would be logical to avoid you to prevent any future problems.”
You stare at him for a long moment, unable to form a coherent response. You had no idea as to what April and Donnie’s history entailed, you find that you almost don’t want to know. It’s clear that the reporter unknowingly had a detrimental effect on the turtle’s life. “What happened?” You find yourself whispering.
He shakes his head, “I guess it doesn’t really matter anymore. What matters is that I had wrongly assumed you to be the same.” Finally he pulls his gaze from the ground to meet yours,.“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.
You nod your head, a strange feeling swelling in your chest. With a small smile you say, “no harm done.”
He shrugs, knowing that your words were a lie. He scuffs a crescent moon shape into the ground with his foot, unsure of how to appropriately change the topic.
You stick your hand out suddenly, watching as he flinches slightly from the energetic movement. He looks up at you, bewildered and confused.
“Let’s start again,” you grin. You state your full name as if meeting him for the first time and gesture towards the outstretched hand. He hesitantly takes it, a goofy smile quirking at the sides of his lips.
“Donatello,” he states, releasing a breathy sound of amusement border-lining a giggle as the entire mood shifts for the better. “It’s nice to meet you!”
You return the sentiment with mirth, buzzed with the opportunity of a clean slate and a prosperous new friendship.
#TMNT#TMNT Donatello#Donatello Hamato#TMNT Donnie#Donatello x Reader#TMNT Donatello x Reader#TMNT Donnie x reader#tmnt 2016#tmnt 2014#tmnt 2012#tmnt 2007#teenage mutant ninja turtles#tmnt imagines#tmnt imagine
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Hey there! Just asking what Lady Luck's "gimmick" is. Does it involve the dice in any way like the way Two-Face uses the coin in DC?
I’ll post her entire info-dump:
Lady Luck is the proud owner of the Lotus Bloom Casino, a prestigious and deluxe casino in the pleasure city of Mezan Bique on the small planet, Anglia. What’s unique about this casino? It’s entirely robot-run with no organic staff in sight.
Lady Luck is a D6 Hazarth model, originally created to be the centerpiece of the Lotus Bloom Casino as the crouper of the cabarra table–a popular single-die-and-cards game where players try to outwit each other and the house for the pot. Luck’s advanced programming allows her to see nearly every permutation and outcome of a game, resulting in a heavy bias towards the house at her table. Her die-shaped head has the ability to detach from its body momentarily and levitate using magnets, spinning as the wirelessly-connected die is thrown before presenting the resulting number on her face. What’s special about Lady Luck’s model is that she can freely move and walk. Past dealer models have been bolted and built into the tables. With Lady Luck’s organic movements, feminine appearance, and ability to converse and flirt with patrons, she quickly became the blossom of Lotus Bloom.
Until she got tired of it, of course. After the casino fell until a financial slump, Lady Luck decided to take matters into her own hands. A bullet made hasty work of her manager, before threatening to kill the owner if he didn’t relieve his position and turn the casino over to her. He did so, she shot him. His death was chalked up as a cold case, as Luck used her newly acquired casino money to bribe the police into silence. Soon, all organics were given the boot as Luck transformed the casino into a well-oiled machine, run by machines. Today, the casino’s business is booming, attracting the highest of the elite and upper-class with its impeccable service, defectless staff, and endless fun. However, even as the boss of the casino, Luck still enjoys occasionally hosting private, closed-door cabarra games for the best players.
However, the Lotus Bloom Casino isn’t all glitz and glamour. Luck’s side job is acting as the city’s loan shark. When a borrower fails to pay their dues, she plays a game of chance with them using her special die. If it lands from 1 to 2, they live to see the next month. If it lands from 3 to 6, they don’t. The casino also randomly selects and targets patrons to rig games in their favor. Once the patron is fat with cash from their win-streak, a dealer rigs the last game so they lose everything and become indebted to the casino.And so, Lady Luck’s empire ran without fail.
That is, until Ava and Kleo arrive for a night of fun.
Lady Luck a perfectionist who masks her arrogance under her purely professional attitude. Her belief of robotic supremacy led her take over of the casino. When upset, she’s a terrifyingly sharp-tongued woman who spits venom through her words, with her classy English accent especially bringing out her demeaning tone. Luck has no patience or mercy for cheaters; anyone caught in her grounds cheating will face the end of her revolver. Her weapon of choice is an engraved three-shooter that belonged to the casino’s late owner. Its cylinder is shaped like a lotus flower, with a chamber in each petal.
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Do you ever think about the fact that whenever someone wants to get at Yuugi they go after Jounouchi, and when they want to get at Jounouchi they go after Yuugi?
The second time Hirutani comes after Jounouchi in canon, he makes sure his pawn lures Yuugi in specific so that Yuugi can be used as a hostage against Jounouchi. (Because note how that little scene goes down: Yuugi doesn’t volunteer to go, Nezumi asks him, and specifically says that he wants someone like Yuugi there, to make it clear that no one else could provide him the “comfort” he was seeking. That was all on Hirutani’s order, there’s no way it wasn’t.) Hirutani has only indirectly met Yuugi once before this, but that one meeting---and the way Jounouchi reacted to seeing Yuugi get hurt---told Hirutani all he needed to know about which person was the most useful target to hit if he wanted to make Jounouchi agree to his demands.
Otogi’s entire reason for being here is to lure Yuugi to the Black Crown so that he can play Dungeon Dice Monsters with him to win the Millennium Puzzle as part of his father’s revenge blah blah blah, but before that he decides to hurt Yuugi for funsies, and how does he plan on doing this? By placing bets and rigging games so that Jounouchi isn’t allowed to talk to Yuugi anymore. I.e., he wants to take Jounouchi to hurt Yuugi.
Haga wants revenge on Yuugi, so what does he do? He targets Jounouchi, because despite the very small amount of time Haga spent around either of them, he has keyed into the fact that if Jounouchi is in danger or trouble somehow, Yuugi will come running.
And these examples aren’t even getting into the pier duel a few volumes later, wherein not only did the Big Bad of the arc show that he also recognizes, despite barely knowing them, that Jounouchi is the one to go after if he wants to get at Yuugi, but we saw that Yuugi and Jounouchi are quite literally willing to die for each other and so everyone who targeted one to get at the other every time before this was 100% on the money (if it wasn’t obvious already). Obviously there are more examples of Jounouchi being the target of distress due to the fact that Yuugi has more villains after him at any given moment, but it really says something that the one primary villain that is Jounouchi’s and Jounouchi’s alone took one look at them and said, “If I want to hit him where it hurts the most, I have to go after Yuugi.” Like, damn. Everyone can see it but them.
I love them.
#wishshipping#yugioh#jounouchi katsuya#mutou yuugi#yuujou#hirutani kimio#the long game#otogi ryuuji#insector haga#malik ishtar#meta#i mean obviously they both go to bat for their families too#Duelist Kingdom was all about Yuugi fighting for Sugoroku and Jounouchi for Shizuka#and if Hirutani ever so much as breathed in Shizuka's direction Jounouchi would go 5000% ballistic#B U T my point is that throughout the manga we have numerous instances where when an antagonist wants to hurt one#they go after the other#and i think that's both funny and beautiful#(also Otogi's is especially hilarious bc he specifically wants to make it so that Jou can't talk to Yuugi anymore#and instead can only talk to him#so it's like ''how do I hurt Yuugi the most? ah yes - I'M GONNA STEAL HIS MAN''#whoa-oh-oh-oh it's Mr Steal-Yo-Boy#(except this is a bad plan bc Jou hates to be controlled lololol#Hirutani could have told him that#right before he choked Otogi out for even THINKING he could take what Hirutani perceives as belonging to him#''how do I attract all these fuckin nutjobs'' Jounouchi wonders#''it's a mystery'' Honda deadpans))
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Write a drabble about Tom and the Spirit of Vengeance being caught in a storm on it's usual trade route.
The dice fell.
Each man had thrown a single, six-sided die onto the squat table. A run of cards and other gambling accoutrements were strewn about, offering an appropriate backdrop. Indeed, there were also a pair of wood-hewn mugs atop the table. It was surely not water that filled them.
Both dies had come up two. There was a momentary silence as the implications of the results were acknowledged between the pair of men. The surrounding crowd loosed a low murmur like children who had heard one was to be brought to the schoolmaster. A second of silence passed.
The younger of the two men lurched forward first. His sudden rising threw the table, leaving the furnishing laid on its end. A confetti of cards, dice, coin and grog was thrown up into the air. The older man sidestepped the fist offered his way, ducking his elbows in. The young man was off-balance, and it was easy work to catch him. With his elbows ducked in, the elder sent a fist less than foot forward to crack the younger in the jaw. The crowd exploded into hoots, cheers, and the thudding of feet against the ship’s flooring.
“... And that, m’dear sailor, is why y’don’t challenge yer’ Admiral to a bout a’ Ratchet Round n’ Down. Ne’er there’ll be another man on th’sea what can match me in it. -- Ain’t that th’way of it, you salt-soaked rots?!” Thomas exclaimed, turning to the rest of the assembled crew.
They responded with a shouting and clapping -- albeit many clapped with one hand, the other holding their ration of grog. Thomas helped the younger sailor up, his palm moving to ease a twirling of pale mist to the young man’s bruised jaw. Mistweaving was starting to come in handy more and more for the Admiral.
“I’m gonna snake you on it someday, I’ll promise you that,” the sailor spoke.
One finger jut free of Thomas’ fat fist, wagging in tease, “Y’can sure try, boy-o.”
A rattling of boots followed from above-deck before Thomas could prod the poor sailor anymore. A man in a brocaded coat rushed from the stairwell. There was a humming of fright to his hand, clutching a spyglass. A murmur of confusion ran through the crew, their earlier jubilation forgotten. Thomas stepped forward, raising a hand to quiet the whispers and address the lookout.
“What’n is it, Themmley? Y’look glad t’be wearing brown breeches.” A lilt of humor took his tone. If there was one thing the Admiral was keen to, it was using comedy to ease a troubled crew. The sea was a beast that took more than it gave, most often. Better to make a laugh of it than to twist up with melancholy or fever.
Themm, the lookout, spoke after a moment to swallow, “There’s a fog afrontin’ us, sir. She’s stretching across the whole of the horizon. Florence measures we can’t split past it without coming far a-course from our route.”
A puckering came to Thomas’ lips, considering the implication. He clapped his hands and stepped to the stairs. As he hiked the groaning wood, he called back, “We’ll have t’finish our gaming later, folks. Seems a storm is on the water.”
As he came above to the main deck, the crew apparent looked to him. Thomas sat a thumb on his fat belt buckle, the other suddenly out in gesture to the ship and crew. “Well what th’fuck are you all staring at? All hands on deck!”
Far to the bow of the Spirit of Vengeance was, indeed, an occluding fog. Though the hour was not quite evening, the rising fog provided a darkness that betrayed the time of day. It curled and stretched across the horizon, unfurling to form a foul sheet along their path of travel. Thomas set his teeth in his maw, moving to the captain’s wheel. Florence was correct. There would be no way to avoid it without slamming course and going far off route. Only one path to take -- through the darkness.
Thomas twisted his mouth, nostrils flaring. A foul scent came on the wind.
Along every deck, the crew was moving at full speed. Their work was both nimble and straining. By some divine favor, they had the wind. Spitting from aft, they came into the breach of the fog at full-sail. Every man and woman were on their station, clutching tight to the block and rigging to maintain. Thomas tread a finger into his coat pocket, the masterful blue and black garment unbuttoned over his breastplate. Within the pocket, he produced a gnarled twist of tobacco. It was like a knotted sausage, and he tore off a length of it to sit between his teeth. A voice came ringing down from the crow’s nest.
“Storm -- HO!”
The man was not wrong -- not entirely.
The moment the bow of the frigate made it through the fog, it became clear what was going on. Though occluded from outside -- and indeed, line of sight was low within -- there was enough to see. Indeed, more importantly -- to smell. The fog reeked like sulphur. It was no sea-borne weather, conjured by the sun and the water. The whole of the air reeked of acrid fumes, the stench of scorched wood and powder.
At Thomas’ side, already drawing and loading his pistols, Florence spoke, “It can never be easy, can it?” The Admiral turned to his favored captain, mouth still suckling on the length of tobacco. His jaw came wide, “Naw, never can be. That’s what makes it so damn’t fun.”
With one hand resting on the wheel of the sheep, Thomas took in a breath. The caustic air clung to his throat, mingling with the sour-sweet taste of tobacco along his tongue. With a full set of lungs, he bellowed to the crew from his place at the quarterdeck.
“All hands on rope! Deck teams, trim the courses! We need full-sails s’long as we can keep ‘em! Lookout, run yer’ tarp! Stow th’glass! --”
The remainder of his orders were halted in his throat. As the sailed forward, coming hard through the sulfurous fog, the source of the pungency was made apparent. Within the midst of the ‘fog’ was a pair of dueling ships, cutting the waters broadside from each other. Though perhaps ‘dueling’ was too fine a word for what was going on. It was a burning, bloody slaughter that sat wholly on one side. And the Spirit of Vengeance was headed right into the middle of it.
Whatever commands were to be given were, summarily, altered in that instant. Thomas sucked in a hard breath and roared again.
“Hands on bracing stations! Hands on bracing stations, Light damn’t! Hard to starboard! Hard to starboard! Bring in the jibs! Call it down! Call it down!”
Through the rising cacophony along the waters, the crew obeyed. Florence holstered his now-loaded pistols, turning with a stoic expression to Thomas, “Check sails, Admiral.”
Indeed, Thomas did. With a twist of his spyglass he called up a closer image of the ensuing naval battle ahead of them. While his mind was still cemented firmly on getting away from it, he could not deny what he was seeing. The spyglass clapped shut, and Thomas turned to Florence with a similarly jaw-locked expression.
“Flaming anchor on a gilded field.”
Florence nodded his head, the muscles in his jaw flexing in tension as he responded.
“The Wreckage.”
Thomas raised one hand to scrub at his face. His tongue acted the same to his front teeth, the flexing of muscles giving some momentary calm to him. As his mouth opened to respond to Florence, to give some direction or order, the voices came calling down from the bow of the ship, one after another like a bucket-team.
“Jib of jibs, stays are tight!”
“Spindle jib, stays are tight!”
“Flying jib, stays are tight!”
“Outer jibs, stays --”
The final voice was cut off by a sudden lurch. The ship twisted and groaned, moving hard against the crash of water. Enough force was applied to lift the frigate up, nearly breaching the keel. Every man and woman held hard, though the rigging suffered for their desperate clinging. Once the vessel righted, crashing hard into the thundering ocean, the main deck was soaking wet. An explosion had rocked the waters ahead.
The ships ahead were getting closer and closer. Thomas grit his teeth.
Even from a distance, the firestorm was clear. One of the vessels was clearly merchant-class, bearing a tri-masted rigging made for ease of use. She was fat in the rear, bloated with a holding of space to allow for cargo. The other vessel was another beast entirely.
It was trim, and settled with a woven style of hull to offer greater security against cannon-fire. Three jibs were rigged from the foremast -- more than enough control for the size of the vessel. By the contour of her hull, she was clearly made for speed. A swift craft, with a siding built to take the broadsides of a warship. Yet the beast lacked a wide battery of gunwales herself. No, no this creature seemed fit for boarding and raiding. None would be so keen to crew but pirates.
And indeed, she was rife with the nautical raiders. From the masts flew a gilded flag that shimmered in the fire light, set with an anchor aflame to center. A fearful sight, even without the knowledge of who captained her.
Sailors, men and women of the seas, are by nature mythological and superstitious creatures. The ocean and her many blessings are accompanied by just as many curses. Real or imagined, they soak the lands of Azeroth with tidings and fables to match any tomb or mountain. Amongst such are the Brethren Lords. A fanciful title -- indeed one they themselves likely cultivated or crafted -- but fitting for what they were spoken to be.
A loose conglomerate fleet of the most enterprising and vicious pirate captains. Their numbers fluctuated with the times, as pirates were often put to stake, sword, and rope by the militaries and mercenaries of Azeroth. Yet they seemed to favor the number nine. Perhaps for the mythology of it, the story-telling. All the same, they each captained a flagship.
The ship before the Spirit of Vengeance, wrought in finery of sail and alight with pyromancy, bearing a gilded flag set with a flaming anchor -- that was the flagship of the Brethren Lord Abbidas Bonnet. So far and murderous a man as ever could be born of the Eastern Kingdoms.
Thomas saddled his feet at shoulder-length apart. With a risen chest, he called out once more to his crew as they took in the same sight he did. There was a fear in the air, a riling of men and women that could have shaken the decks as much as the ocean did. Yet, their Admiral put his fat tongue to work.
“Yer’ eyes ain’t wrong, boys an’ girls! I need yer’ heads clear, and yer’ hands slaked with ropes! Those are th’sails of Mad Abby! He don’t loot, nor pillage. He burns th’ships he finds anger toward, an’ damns them t’live below the waves!”
Florence tilted his brow toward Thomas, offering a look that was purely questioning. Though the captain was a stoic man, he still could understand the fear that came with sighting such a notorious pirate along the waters. Florence looked to Thomas as if to ask, ‘How does is that comforting?’
Without even looking -- or perhaps even noticing -- Florence’s gaze, Thomas roared again at his fearful crew. The men and women all offered their Admiral a moment’s glance, freeing them from their appointed tasks along the vessel to see him cry out.
“Do ya’ll plan t’die today?!”
There was not even a moment’s pause before they roared back.
“No, sir!”
A smile split Thomas from ear to ear, soured with pride.
“That’s very good t’hear! Now let’s bring this sonuvabitch aroun’ an’ about! I need bracing stations, you beautiful cunts! We’re no good leeward to them pirates!”
At his command, they hurled themselves to the straining work. Every man and woman with a strong back and fat arms went to the braces, drawing them to starboard. Even above the groaning of wood as the masts turned, the sound of the combat ahead was clear. It was no contest. The pirates set the merchant vessel to the flame. Each man, it seemed, was a pyromancer in their own right. From blackened fingers, fire flew in chaotic pattern.
The fat rear of the merchant ship creaked and groaned. It was only a few more minutes until the windows suddenly shattered, sent outward by a gout of flame. Whatever melee was ongoing within, all were taken by the fire.
The Spirit of Vengeance came hard to starboard, moving away from the broadside-melee of the two vessels. The frigate’s new course gave a wide berth -- or as wide as could be offered on such short order. A sailing vessel of such size and import was not moved swiftly, especially not with their new cannons and attendant munitions. Yet they made the curve, coming alongside the blazing merchant vessel as they took sail and wind. Thomas had ordered them through the fog, and such they were to do.
Yet as they came alongside the merchant ship, all ablaze and soaked in the blood of her now-dead crew, the pirates aboard sneered and screamed like madmen. Seemingly out of living merchantmen to slaughter, they turned their eye to the passing frigate. Each pirate brandished their blades and spat a roaring cry. By some foul comradery, they all cried out in unison and hurled a pyroclastic display upward. It seemed they were happily lost to their lust, and keen to send such destructive fervor to the passing vessel. However …
Florence was no fool. A stern and stoic man of even temper, he had quickly become Thomas’ favored captain for all tasks that he himself could not take to. If it ever came to contest, Florence was surely Thomas’ second-in-command for the Anchor Trading Company’s fleet. In accordance with such evenness of temperament, Florence had made the wise decision to open the gunwales on the port side of the Spirit of Vengeance.
As the frigate passed the pirates, the sight of open gunwales stalled their bloodthirst. Perhaps, if only momentarily. But that moment was enough to sail past with hull intact. The curl of the water beneath the frigate was slick with gore and the charred remains of the merchant ship. Despite the violent leavings, the waters buoyed Thomas’ vessel all the same.
As they passed the blazing -- and now swiftly sinking -- merchant ship, Thomas came to the port of the quarterdeck. With both hands steadied on the railing of his frigate, he peered across the gap of water. Smoke colored his view, leaving a hazy picture of what lay beyond. But it parted, if only for a moment. The fog behind the merchant’s boat came aside as well, giving a brief glimpse of the sunset beyond.
Against the backdrop of the golden, liquid sunlight was a man. Hanging from the mizzenmast’s rigging, a ginger-haired man was lit by fire. His features were scarred, but flush and thriving on life. A curled moustache and a spit of hair at the chin accompanied his wide, unblinking eyes. In his hand, nearly limp from the arm that hung away from the mizzenmast, was a masterful kriegsmesser. He and Thomas locked eyes for a lingering moment.
The Spirit of Vengeance pressed on, coming away from the blazing corpse of the pirate ship’s prey. Within another twenty minutes, they were free of the sulphurous fog. The dwindling sunset greeted them, offering a clear sky with which to regain their heading.
A bitter sensation ran into Thomas’ gut as he looked back toward the smoke. Could he have done anything to help? Would it have mattered? He shook his head. It was no use seeking hindsight. They had to sail forward, make their route as it was charted. The next Alliance vessel they spied would hear of the Wreckage and her work. Perhaps they could do something about it.
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Monday, December 7, 2020
The massive US election turnout
(NYT) Almost 160 million Americans voted this year thanks to the broad expansion of voting options. It may change U.S. elections forever. With all but three states having completed their final counts, and with next week’s deadline for final certification of the results approaching, the sheer number of Americans who actually voted in November was eye-opening: 66.7 percent of the voting-eligible population. But a backlash from the right is brewing. Republicans at the state level are vowing to enact a new round of voting restrictions to prevent what they claim is widespread fraud.
‘They’re Playing With Our Lives’: What Happens Next for DACA’s ‘Dreamers’
(NYT) Despite being a college graduate, Maria Fernanda Madrigal Delgado had no choice in 2011 but to clean buildings and flip burgers in fast-food joints for cash because she was not eligible to work in the United States. She had grown up undocumented in Southern California after being brought to the country as a child from Costa Rica. In 2012, after President Barack Obama unveiled Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, a program that shielded hundreds of thousands of young undocumented immigrants from deportation and allowed them to work, she got a job as a legal assistant. In May, at 31, she will graduate from law school in San Diego. Yet almost from the moment DACA was created, it has been dogged by legal challenges, which have kept Ms. Madrigal and other so-called Dreamers on tenterhooks. Soon after President Trump took office in 2017, he canceled the program. The Supreme Court ruled in June that he had done so improperly, but the administration erected new roadblocks. “It’s literally like we’re in a Ping-Pong game,” Ms. Madrigal said. “They’re playing with our lives.” On Friday, a federal judge ruled in favor of DACA recipients, ordering full reinstatement of the program and opening it to new applicants. But Ms. Madrigal isn’t celebrating. “I am aware this is not the end,” she said. “There can be another challenge.”
With 3 Billion Packages to Go, Online Shopping Faces Tough Holiday Test
(NYT) E-commerce became a lifeline for consumers and companies during the pandemic. But this holiday season, online shopping will strain the industry as never before: An estimated three billion packages will course through the nation’s shipping infrastructure—about 800 million more than delivered last year. This flood of packages is hitting shipping companies at the end of a year of frenzied demand for everyday household items by a public largely stuck at home and wary of doing its buying in person. The deliveries could make or break some smaller retailers already on the edge financially because of lockdowns and fewer customers in their stores. Packages that don’t arrive by Christmas will be a disappointment for customers but a disaster for these struggling retailers, which have been forced by the coronavirus pandemic to rebuild their business around e-commerce. The future of retailing is increasingly online, and companies don’t want to give customers any reason to think they can’t deliver.
Lights go out, roads dicey as wintry storm batters Northeast
(AP) The first big wintry storm of the season began dropping what forecasters say could be more than a foot of wet, heavy snow Saturday on parts of the Northeast, making travel treacherous and cutting off power to tens of thousands. Morning rain gave over to snow in the afternoon in New England. Accidents littered the Massachusetts Turnpike, where speed limits were reduced to 40 mph (64 kph). As of late Saturday night, about 200,000 customers were without power in Maine, according to the utility tracking poweroutage.us. Another 53,000 customers didn’t have power in New Hampshire and about 22,000 were without power in Massachusetts. Forecasters warned the windy nor’easter could result in near-blizzard conditions and could dump a foot (30 centimeters) of snow on suburban Boston. In Canada, southern Quebec and New Brunswick also expected a wallop.
Venezuela election comes amid humanitarian crisis, hunger
(CNN) In some countries, voting is compulsory and failure to show up at the polls can be penalized, often with a fine. But in Venezuela the penalty can be more severe than most: If you don’t vote, you don’t eat. “For the ones that don’t vote, there is no food,” Diosdado Cabello, one of embattled President Nicolas Maduro’s most powerful allies, said during a campaign rally on Monday. “Whoever does not vote, does not eat. A ‘quarantine’ without food will be applied,” he repeated to a cheering crowd. Venezuelans will head to the polls on Sunday as the country elects a new parliament, known in the country as the National Assembly. [The opposition is boycotting the vote.] Sunday’s election happens against the backdrop of one of the worst humanitarian crises in the world. The World Food Program says one in three Venezuelans struggles to put enough food on the table and, according to the UN High Commissioner for Refugees, almost 5 million Venezuelans have left the country, fleeing not just hunger but violence and persecution. Crippled by years of mismanagement and US sanctions, the Venezuelan economy is still in a downward spiral, mostly because output from the country’s oil industry—which according to the OPEC account for 99% of its exports—continues to decrease. Heading in the opposing direction, inflation reached 4,087%. Across the country, the dollar has now replaced the Bolivar as the main currency.
Britain and EU resume trade talks in ‘final throw of the dice’
(Reuters) British negotiators arrived in Brussels on Sunday for a last-ditch attempt to strike a Brexit trade deal with the European Union and avert a chaotic parting of ways at the end of the year. British Prime Minister Boris Johnson and European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen spoke on Saturday and instructed their teams to resume talks after they were paused a day earlier due to an impasse over three key issues: fishing, fair competition and ways to solve future disputes. “This is the final throw of the dice,” said a British source close to the negotiations. Since Britain formally left the EU on Jan. 31, negotiators have missed a series of deadlines to reach a deal with the world’s largest trading bloc before a status quo transition period ends on Dec. 31.
Thousands of anti-Lukashenko protesters march in Belarus, dozens detained
(Reuters) Thousands of demonstrators marched in the Belarus capital Minsk and elsewhere on Sunday as weekly protests demanding the resignation of veteran President Alexander Lukashenko continued, prompting police to detain more than 100 people. Belarus, a country of 9.5 million that Russia sees as a security buffer against NATO, has been rocked by mass protests since an Aug. 9 presidential election which Lukashenko said he won. His opponents claim the vote was rigged and want him to quit. Lukashenko, who has been in power for 26 years, has shrugged off the scale of protests, saying they are sponsored by the West, and shown little signs of willingness to start a dialogue with the opposition.
Japan’s capsule with asteroid samples retrieved in Australia
(AP) A Japanese capsule carrying the first samples of asteroid subsurface shot across the night atmosphere early Sunday before successfully landing in the remote Australian Outback. The spacecraft Hayabusa2 released the small capsule on Saturday and sent it toward Earth to deliver samples from a distant asteroid. At about 10 kilometers (6 miles) above ground, a parachute was opened to slow its fall and beacon signals were transmitted to indicate its location in the sparsely populated area of Woomera in southern Australia. About two hours after the reentry, the Japan Aerospace Exploration Agency said its helicopter search team found the capsule in the planned landing area. The retrieval of the pan-shaped capsule, about 40 centimeters (15 inches) in diameter, was completed after another two hours. The return of the capsule with the world’s first asteroid subsurface samples comes weeks after NASA’s OSIRIS-REx spacecraft made a successful touch-and-go grab of surface samples from asteroid Bennu. China, meanwhile, announced this week its lunar lander collected underground samples and sealed them within the spacecraft for return to Earth, as space developing nations compete in their missions.
The Trump Administration is Cracking Down Against a Global Movement to Boycott Israel
(TIME) On the same day that Secretary of State Mike Pompeo became the first high-ranking American diplomat to visit an Israeli settlement in the occupied West Bank, he also doubled down on the Trump administration’s opposition to a global pro-Palestinian movement to boycott Israel. The Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions (BDS) movement relies on putting political and economic pressure on Israel. The goal is to push Israel to recognize the rights of Palestinian citizens currently living in Israel; allow Palestinian refugees, who were driven out of the country as early as 1948 when Israel was created, to return to their homes; and withdraw from all land that it seized after the 1967 Arab-Israeli war, including the the occupied West Bank—which is claimed by the Palestinians. BDS was formally launched in 2005 by a coalition of about 170 Palestinian grassroots and civil society groups. Fifteen years later, it’s grown in prominence. While it has chalked up only a few economic victories, it has garnered substantial visibility, supporters and also critics internationally, including on the U.S. college campuses, and in state legislatures and Congress. On Nov. 19, Pompeo promised to cut federal funding for organizations supporting the BDS campaign. “We will immediately take steps to identify organizations that engage in hateful BDS conduct, and withdraw U.S. government support for such groups,” Pompeo said. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, who was standing nearby, replied, “It sounds simply wonderful to me.”
Christmas tree-lighting in Bethlehem a muted, virtual event
(AP) Only a few dozen people attended the lighting of the Christmas tree in the biblical city of Bethlehem on Saturday night, as coronavirus restrictions scaled back the annual event that is normally attended by thousands. A small group of residents and religious leaders participated in the tree-lighting ceremony at Manger Square near the Church of the Nativity, where Christians believe Jesus was born. Others watched it virtually due to restrictions prompted by the virus pandemic. Bethlehem Mayor Anton Salman said Christmas is being observed this year in ways like no time before. “We resorted to modern technology and to the virtual world to celebrate the lighting of the Christmas tree, wishing hope and optimism would flutter upon Palestine and the world,” Salman said.
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"Fairness is the unspoken promise of most video games. Controlled by an omniscient and omnipotent designer, a video game has the capacity to be ultimately just, and players expect that it will be so. (Designers also have an incentive to be even-handed: A game that always beats you is a game you’ll soon stop playing.) And yet, when video games truly play by the rules, the player can feel cheated. Sid Meier, the designer of the computer game Civilization, in which players steer a nation through history, politics, and warfare, quickly learned to modify the game’s odds in order to redress this psychological wrinkle. Extensive play-testing revealed that a player who was told that he had a 33 percent chance of success in a battle but then failed to defeat his opponent three times in a row would become irate and incredulous. [..] So Meier altered the game to more closely match human cognitive biases; if your odds of winning a battle were 1 in 3, the game guaranteed that you’d win on the third attempt—a misrepresentation of true probability that nevertheless gave the illusion of fairness. Call it the Lucky Paradox: Lucky is fun, but too lucky is unreal. The resulting, on-going negotiation among game players and designers must count as one of our most abstract collective negotiations. [..] Luck is equally vital in modern games, whether it emerges from dice rattling in a cup or the treacherous Chance cards in Monopoly. But its role has changed: Humans have taken the reins from the gods, and luck has become a design tool capable of changing players’ experiences and expectations. For instance, it enables players of varying abilities to play together by reducing the advantage of actual skill. [..] When the soccer ball sails past the goalkeeper in FIFA, or when, inexplicably, a herd of race cars slows down to allow you to catch up, a game designer’s hand has just acted to provide some ghostly rigging. The effect of this manipulation is to flatter you and thereby keep you engaged. But it’s a trick that must be deployed subtly. A player who senses that he’s secretly being helped by the game will feel patronized; after all, luck is only luck if it’s truly unpredictable. Which is where the problems begin. [..] “As soon as the player becomes aware of any sort of pseudo-randomness, it risks undermining the joy of getting lucky,” [..] Games in which you’re given seemingly random rewards often employ a device known as a “pity timer,” Sottosanti explained, which guarantees that something seemingly fortunate will happen to you after a sustained period of misfortune—anything from 10 minutes to an hour, depending on the game. [..] While some instances of pseudo-randomness are designed to create the feeling of fairness, others are designed for profit. With the rise of so-called freemium games—free games that make real money during the course of play by selling virtual items—comes the temptation to manipulate what looks like a random act of chance in order to encourage further spending [..] It’s a technique straight out of the 1950s playbook of the American psychologist B.F. Skinner. Whether the subject is a pigeon, rat, or person, Skinner found, the strongest way to reinforce a learned behavior was to reward it on a random schedule. The designers of free-to-play games, by using an intermittent variable to dole out small prizes, found that they could keep players engaged—and spending—for longer. [..] When a player feels favored by luck, she said, “you can pin it to certain neurotransmitters spiking, and you know dopamine is released. Even the compulsive search and hunt for recreating that sense of euphoria is driven by the reward center in the brain.” Dopamine’s power to turn us into luck-chasers can be seen most vividly in the effects of some drugs used to treat Parkinson’s disease, which, in flooding the brain with dopamine, have been shown to turn patients into gambling addicts. And the temptation to manipulate the appearance of probabilities, in order to appeal to the human brain, is nowhere greater than in the gambling industry, where, whether the game is hosted on the Internet or in a physical machine in a casino, software usually handles the calculations. The results of any modern slot machine are based on arcane random-number generators in a computerized network, not on the fortunate conjunction of three wooden wheels. But losing to that sort of luck can be dispiriting. So gambling machines often employ the fiction of physical luck—by, say, making it look as if you just missed out on a king’s ransom as the final matching bar of gold or lemon reels to a stop just shy of a jackpot payout. This entices you to once more bet on odds that remain astronomical. [..] “On the one hand, people experience near-misses as aversive, but at the same time, the near-miss increases motivation. On a slot machine, a near-miss makes you more likely to continue, because it makes you feel like you’re improving at the game.” For games based heavily upon luck, maintaining this illusion of improvement and control is crucial. [..] Persuading a player that he’s improving at a luck-based game in turn increases the likelihood that he’ll take on unfavorable odds. “For years the gambling industry has had the ability to track individual players, create robust historical profiles on customers, and employ algorithms that can tell when someone is likely to leave,” [..] The operators of digital gambling machines have the ability to change payout odds in the middle of a gambling session based on these profiles, by giving a player a small payout in order to tempt him or her to keep playing. Many states have laws that forbid “luck” from being manipulated in this way. To get around that, casino operators dispatch so-called “luck ambassadors,” who go onto the casino floor and hand gamblers a cash bonus to keep them invested. Freemium games, which aren’t currently subject to the same legal strictures that bind the gambling industry, can freely give these bonus payouts during the game in order to make a player feel lucky—and so keep them playing and spending. [..] Unfortunately, the pure approach doesn’t always convince players. “Today, players almost always perceive patterns of manipulation where there are none,” Jason Kapalka, the Peggle developer, said. “When I was working on online games, it was nearly impossible to convince certain players that the results weren’t rigged in some way. People came up with elaborate theories about how beginners were given better results so as to rope them into subscriptions, or veteran players would be rewarded with better results for their patronage, and so on.” [..] If play is the way in which human beings rehearse life, it follows that we require our games to be filled with uncertainties, moments of caprice to which we must adapt our position and strategy. But we’ve grown more demanding about the luck that games serve to us—not too much, not too little."
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Treasures of the Savage Frontier: Won! (with Summary and Rating)
Reminder: It is possible to play this game with “evil” characters.
Treasures of the Savage Frontier
United States
Beyond Software (developer); Strategic Simulations, Inc. (publisher)
Released in 1992 for Amiga and DOS
Date Started: 20 July 2019
Date Finished: 2 August 2019
Total Hours: 31
Difficulty: Easy-Moderate (2.5/5)
Final Rating: (to come later)
Ranking at time of posting: (to come later)
Summary:
One of the last Gold Box games, this one is competent but not terribly memorable. All of the Gold Box strengths (variety of enemies, combat interface, character development, interface) and weaknesses (bad economy, no environmental graphics, limited sound) are present, with a few minor additions such as weather affecting combat, the ability for enemies to join combat in subsequent rounds, and a romance between the lead character and an NPC.
*****
If the Gold Box series was a political dynasty, its founder, Pool of Radiance (1988), would be like a bold, innovative president whose genius and integrity are remembered for generations. Curse of the Azure Bonds would be like his son who only ever made it to vice president. Every other game would be a bunch of descendants who had served as cabinet secretaries and representatives–each perhaps distinguished when considered individually, some even more physically attractive than their famous forebear, but none rising quite to his level of prominence.
Treasures of the Savage Frontier added a handful of tweaks to the Gold Box experience and told a competent story. It was in no way a shame to the family–not like those Buck Rogers cousins. But neither did it offer anything, in real terms, that we haven’t experienced already. Since what we experienced already was pretty good, this isn’t exactly a problem, but in some ways it’s too bad that the lineage didn’t continually improve over its lifetime the way that, say, the Ultima series did. Perhaps the comparison is inapt because Ultima used different engines for every release.
I said that Treasures told a “competent story,” but even that is only true up through the end of my last entry. The Zhentarim/Hosttower/Kraken plot didn’t keep me on the edge of my seat, but it did at least keep me interested. The final battle of this segment was a worthy challenge. Then, all of a sudden the Lords’ Alliance leaders started talking about The Gem and the importance in keeping it out of the hands of the Zhentarim. I promise that The Gem had never been mentioned at any point in the story before, but all the journal entries acted as if everyone already knew about it. “It was this magical Gem that was used to destroy [a white dragon named] Freezefire centuries ago,” King Steelfist said. “The powerful magic item may still be there, awaiting adventurers with the strength and courage to come find it in the barren wastes.”
I expected him to turn on me, but mostly I forgot he was even there.
And thus the last chapter of the book had the party traipsing through villages and caverns of the frozen north. Accompanying us was an NPC fighter named Kriiador, servant to the human leader of Mirabar. A previously-unavailable dock in Neverwinter now sold passage to the northern city of Fireshear.
When we arrived, we discovered that the city (which occupied two levels with multiple ladders) had already been sacked by the forces of evil. We slowly retook it from the various yeti, ice hounds, remorhazes, and umber hulks that had made homes in the former shops and businesses of the residents. Umber hulks–which look weirder here than in any other game in which I’ve seen them–did their usual “confuse” trick.
An umber hulk, looking very cartoonish.
The hardest battle–and this became a recurring issue–was with a large group that included about half a dozen yeti chiefs. I guess the creatures get a chance of “terrifying” each party member when the battle starts, and with so many of them, it was common for every one of my party members to get terrified. Terrified characters flee the battlefield. They ultimately return, but only after four or five rounds in which the remaining characters have to hold out. There seemed to be no way to protect against the effect, and so the battle occasioned several reloads before I got enough party members to stick with it.
This is what finally frightens my party?
Even after I finished this battle, I had to immediately fight another one with a beholder and more yeti. Fortunately, my characters were under the effects of “Haste” (I used it so often that the party ended the game in their mid-30s having started in their early 20s). Resisting the beholder’s more serious attacks, my three lead fighters ran up and pounded him until he was dead.
This guy wasn’t as hard as he could have been if the dice had gone the other way.
Once Fireshear was clear, the shops and services opened up again, including a boat offering passage further up the coast to the Ice Peak. This area consisted of four maps, including three interconnected towns: Aurilssbaarg, Bjorn’s Hold, and Icewolf. The areas featured numerous encounters with tribal northerners, and I regret to say I was done with the game at this point, so I stopped meticulously recording everything that happened.
The type of encounter I got in the final maps. I probably didn’t even read the entry.
The tribesmen were nice and didn’t give me any trouble about pronouncing “Tempos” as “Tempus,” and there were more battles with ice creatures. Ultimately, I found my way to the passage that led to the final area.
My ranger gets impatient.
The final map, Freezefire’s Lair, had a lot of secret doors but not a lot of special encounters. One exception was a combat with a creature I’d never encountered before (in any game) called a “gorgimera”–a cross between a gorgon and a chimera.
These guys were pretty bad-ass.
The penultimate battle occurred when we stumbled into a cave containing Freezefire’s corpse. A bunch of mages, spies, and priests had beat us there, and fighting them was about as hard as the last battle in Mirabar. It all came down to who drew first and paralyzed everyone else with “Hold” or negated their spellcasting abilities with “Ice Storm” or “Fireball.” I’d gained a level or two since the final battle in Mirabar, however, and this one had fewer enemies suddenly appearing in later rounds.
My ranger is taken out of the action, but we were victorious in the end.
When it was over, there was a scripted scene in which the party drooled over the piles of treasure in Freezefire’s chamber before remembering that their duty was to collect The Gem. (The game never gave any indication of what, exactly, it did.) Ghost pried it out of the dead dragon’s claws, which somehow caused the dead dragon to come back to life.
I like how the game tries to make the dragon scary, as if we hadn’t been fighting dragons since Level 2 in Gateway.
The actual “final battle” with Freezefire was laughably easy, as battles with single dragons tend to be in Gold Box titles. He had a few dozen hit points, which the dancing blades of my hastened fighters depleted before he could even breathe once.
I swear his name is spelled “Freezefire” everywhere else.
The endgame screens then commenced. A group of dwarves carried us victoriously back to Icewolf, where we had a feast. The two rulers of Mirabar showed up to lay plans for diving Freezefire’s treasure among the Lords’ Alliance cities, plus the northern tribes.
Yeah, that’s going to pretty much ruin the local economy.
The party was offered 40 jewelry, 250 gems, and 15,000 platinum pieces (but why)? The Lord’s Alliance took charge of The Gem, and the Zhentarim, Krakens, and Hosttower forces all slithered back to their homes. After the final screen at the top of this entry, the game allowed me to keep playing.
That’s nice, but just once I’d like someone to call us by our names.
As I noted in the last entry, the ending felt tacked on. On the other hand, without it, the title didn’t make any sense, as the game preceding it wasn’t about any treasures. On yet another hand, it still doesn’t make any sense, because while the ending is about treasures, the treasures are not “of the Savage Frontier.” Then again, hardly any of the game took place in the Savage Frontier.
There are more than a couple hints that the developers were setting up a sequel to occur in High Forest. First, there was the mystery to do with Siulajia and how the Axis of Evil knew her family. Second, the mages and priests we encountered at the Ice Peak appear to have been sent not by the Zhentarim conspiracy but by “the Masters of Hellgate Keep,” as one captured enemy squealed. Hellgate Keep is on the edge of the High Forest. Even the cover, showing Siulajia holding a magic gem, seems to be from a sequel more than the current game.
After I won, I took a few minutes to create a new party out of my massively-overpowered characters from Pools of Darkness. These were characters so powerful, you’ll recall, that at the end of Pools, they were basically sent into exile. They were all around Level 30-40, some of them in their second classes, and the mages among them had Level 9 spells. Treasures read their character files, including all their equipment, as if they were native characters.
The imported party. Look at those ACs!
The game wouldn’t let me outside until I won the big battle in Llorkh. There were a lot more enemies than the first time, but I’m not sure if that’s because Treasures “read” my party as being more powerful, or if it was because I didn’t clean up the side encounters first. Either way, the large party still went down quickly to “Delayed Blast Fireball.”
A lot more foes than last time, but that’s just more fodder for a “Fireball.”
I immediately brought the party to Luskan and attacked the Hosttower. Despite the level of my characters, the defending mages still mostly acted first, suggesting that the initiative rolls are rigged for this battle. It didn’t help them much, however, as they mostly cast “Ice Storm” and I had “Resist Cold” on every character. Although multiple new enemies joined each round, my vorpal swords and spells like “Meteor Swarm” cut through the masses faster than they could replenish them, and I won with minimal damage in just a few minutes.
I forgot how much I like vorpal swords.
The battle earned me 19,751 experience per character. When it was over, I was taken back to the 3-D screen where a message said, “The great gates slam shut!” I then had the option to bash them again for, presumably, another battle. So much for that. I’m sure this combat could be won with native characters, particularly late in the game. “Resist Cold” and “Haste” would do most of the work.
The whole point of fighting that big battle was to get through those gates.
I always like to check out the uncircled journal entries to see which are likely to be fake. There aren’t many here. Out of 88 entries, I checked off 73, and at least 5 of the remainder fit known story developments and events, so it’s likely that I just missed them. Of the few obvious “fakes,” one has the dwarves of Llorkh betraying and imprisoning the party. Another would have the party waste time looking for a beholder in Port Llast. There was a fake map, and a misleading entry about the pirate Redleg. That’s about it. I miss some of the older games’ fake entries, which often had an entire fake sub-plot running through them.
With all the corners explored, it’s time to get on to the GIMLET:
5 points for the game world. It makes good use of Forgotten Realms themes, adequately continues the story from Gateway, and does a reasonably job evolving the world as the game progresses.
The Forgotten Realms campaign setting says Mirabar is ruled jointly by dwarves and humans, and that’s how the game presents it.
5 points for character creation and development, which is essentially the Gold Box/AD&D1 average. Only the Dragonlance games do significantly better with their unique races and classes. Here, I thought some of the level caps were a bit low.
6 points for NPC interaction. This series has never featured classic NPCs (with their own icons, independent existence, etc.) so much as “encounters” with memorable characters in them. But this game does better than most by allowing so many characters to join the party, including one who will engage in a romance with the lead character. The romance is a bit dull and progresses mostly in the background, but it has actual consequences for statistics and behavior in combat.
6 points for encounters and foes. Most of that goes to the foes. I really do like the AD&D bestiary, with its incredible variety of special attacks and defenses that constantly change up combat tactics, and this game had some creatures I’d never heard of. Non-combat encounters aren’t as thick or memorable in their role-playing options as some of the earlier titles, but the game does feature at least a few.
Monsters are introduced in memorable fashion . . .
. . . and the manual tells you what you need to know.
7 points for magic and combat. Few changes to a very good combat engine and magic system. I didn’t feel strongly enough about the two additions–consideration of the weather and the ability of enemies to join the combat midway–for it to affect the rating either way.
5 points for equipment. I like the variety of equipment, but I don’t like that every item is predetermined and fixed in location.
2 points for the economy. There’s more interesting stuff to buy than in the typical Gold Box title, but it’s so cheap that you end up with the same problem as every other game: too much gold, not enough to spend it on. A party could easily get through this game with its starting allowance.
“What is . . . the Gold Box games’ philosophy for how much money the party should get after a battle with 4 orcs?”
4 points for a main quest and a fair number of side-quests and side-areas. I never finished whatever the dwarves wanted me to do.
6 points for graphics, sound, and interface. The graphics and sound effects are both adequate, though I’m getting sick of empty environments. Most of the points here go to the extremely intuitive interface, which manages to accommodate keyboard, joystick, and mouse users.
5 points for gameplay. I like the quasi-nonlinearity, and I thought the challenge and length were about right, or maybe just a tad too easy. I don’t see it as very “replayable.”
The final score of 51 is about middle-of-the-road for a Gold Box title. I’m surprised to see it only two points higher than Gateway, but I can’t pinpoint where I expected Gateway to do worse. At this point, it’s clear that no Gold Box game is going to outperform the first entry, Pool of Radiance (1988), which got a 65. It has the most interesting world and story of the series, the most memorable and challenging battles, the best non-combat encounter options, and the best variety of quests.
It doesn’t appear that Computer Gaming World even bothered to review this one. Scorpia offered some hints in the July 1992 issue but not a full review. In an October 1993 summary of CRPGs on the market, she said that the game had “a couple of twists” but was “otherwise pretty much a yawner.” Dragon gave it 4/5 stars in an August 1992 review and said that while it was “enjoyable” and “satisfying,” there was “nothing really new.”
(A couple of weird things about this issue of Dragon: 1) it features a screenshot from SSI’s Sword of Aragon from 1989 but labels it from Treasures; 2) it has a joint ad for Twilight: 2001 and MegaTraveller 3, neither of which were ever released.)
I would venture that Treasures is more fun today, when the player isn’t really expecting innovation, than in 1992, when the Gold Box engine was 4 years old and players were excited by more immersive environments as in Ultima Underworld or even Eye of the Beholder and its sequel. Such attitudes surely pervade the horrid series of reviews that the game received from European Amiga magazines, the best being the 69 in the June 1992 Power Play and the worst the 34 afforded by the November 1992 Amiga Power. Amiga magazines, and particularly the British ones, never really “got” the Gold Box, and it annoys me that the reviewer (Les Ellis) seems to define “playability” as the ability to immediately start playing without reading the manual. Otherwise, the review is oddly forgivable in its historical context, opening with the rhetorical question: “After the likes of Eye of the Beholder 2, is there really any need for games like this?” I rated Eye of the Beholder II lower than Treasures, but even I kind-of get where he’s coming from.
In my ignorance as a non-programmer, I have to wonder why the Gold Box couldn’t have evolved better than it did. For instance, why couldn’t a player exploring the tiled maps of Neverwinter be treated to some of the same menacing background sounds, perhaps growing when enemies were near, that he receives in Eye of the Beholder? Why couldn’t the graphics have featured more environmental clues? Why was it so important to stick to 16 x 16 maps? I know some of my helpful commenters will try to give answers, but I suspect they’ll sound to me more like excuses than explanations.
“Players can now interact with NPCs–they can even have romances!” is a bit misleading.
Ah, but it’s too soon to bemoan the loss of the engine–we’ll do that after Dark Queen of Krynn. For now, we say goodbye to Beyond Software, soon to rename itself Stormfront Studios. It will develop one more RPG in the near future (1993’s Stronghold) and nothing again until the 2000s. SSI, the most prolific RPG publisher of the period, will continue to entertain us with RPGs of all types until 1995, when it will suddenly get out of the RPG business for good.
I move now to The Magic Candle III, of which I know virtually nothing. My entries may continue to be a bit spotty for the next few weeks (though hopefully without any more very long breaks) as I adjust to a new job and schedule.
source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/treasures-of-the-savage-frontier-won-with-summary-and-rating/
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Idaho’s Circling Raven Soars Ever Higher
If Circling Raven Golf Course could be cloned, blade for blade and bunker for bunker, and plopped down in a major metro area or any place that could handle the infrastructure, it could host a U.S. Open.
All golfers seem to make that claim about one of their favorite courses at some point, but Circling Raven is the real, championship-worthy deal. It’s that good, that spacious, that engaging, that telegenic. That tough, certainly, from the tips.
But it can’t be cloned, nor should it; it will forever be connected to the stunning Northern Idaho landscape surrounding Coeur d”Alene Casino Resort-Hotel, not far from the southern fingers of Lake Coeur d’Alene.
Named for a Coeur d’Alene tribal leader and laced through a sprawling 620-acre parcel of some of that tribe’s most beautiful ancestral ground — coniferous forest and rolling grassland and stream-fed meadows — Circling Raven was conceived and laid out not by a front-line golf course architect with a name like Trent Jones, Doak, Coore, Hanse or Nicklaus. Not one of them summoned the outside-the-box vision of the man who eventually won the contract, Gene Bates.
A DIFFERENT VIEW
The Florida-based designer, who has worked with Jack Nicklaus, Gary Player, Johnny Miller and Fred Couples, and who continues to design projects around the world, arrived on the scene as the tribe’s leaders decided that their growing casino-resort needed a good golf course among its amenities.
“At first they thought they might just need a nine-hole course, but once they knew how important and special a great golf course can be, and how many fine Native American-run courses there were around the country, their vision got bigger,” said Director of Golf Dave Christensen, a native of Eastern Washington at the helm of Circling Raven for the second time, having been there when Bates signed the line and opening the course to the public 15 years ago.
In fact, he was there from the start of the proposal process. The Coeur d’Alene tribal leaders called in all the big names for initial plans. To a man, all of them looked to the relatively flat parcel just west of the resort, where water was readily available and access was a snap. Only Bates looked to the east and south, across and along an elevated railroad bed, for his inspiration.
“He was the one guy who had a different vision of what this course could be,” added Christensen. “He saw all that beautiful land across the tracks, the hills and wide corridors, and knew it was special.”
BIG, BROAD CANVAS
Bates also knew his imagination and skill wasn’t hemmed in by fences or ownership issues of any kind. This was tribal land, wild and wide open and infused with deep native spirit, and he took full advantage of its promise, its sheer scale.
He’d made his bones as a shaper, so he knew instinctively how to mold the heaving Idaho landscape to mimic its vast horizons — the distant mountain peaks, the rounded foothill forms closer afoot, the tree lines jutting into that endless azure sky. He made each hole its own set piece — why limit himself to scoping out one or two “signature” candidates when every hole site will produce a stunner?
Christensen watched Bates and his crew pull magic out of the soil, was onsite for the grow-in and maturation process, and marveled at how the final product manages to coalesce into a seamless, balanced and cohesive golf journey even though it takes up more than three times the acreage of most courses.
[See image gallery at www.golftipsmag.com] That journey begins with a bang — a cape-style par 5 swooping around reedy wetlands. It’s reachable in two from every set of tees, especially when the prevailing southwest breeze is up, but only if the drive is properly drawn off the fairway bunkers guarding the landing area’s right side; 3-wood isn’t a bad play as it’s usually easier to turn over.
Then it’s over the tracks and out into the open, rolling grassland for several holes, starting with No. 2, the first of several par 4s that aren’t exactly short but can be driven by the brawny, brave … or foolhardy. Hole 5 is stout, left-turning par 5, hole 8 a downhill par 4 with a creek up the right side and a severe, forested bank to the left, leaving no margin for error from the box — in other words, the dog might have too much bite here.
The back nine kicks off with a risk-reward winner, a right-angled par 4 that’s definitely drivable, but you’ve got to negotiate 150 yards or more of wetlands, plus two tall trees that essentially split the landing area in two. Go left of them and you’ve got a mid- or short iron in; roll the dice right of them and you’re set up with a flip wedge home.
The back nine offers more forested holes than the front, with a couple forays into the open. No. 12 is a fine transition hole, to some, the best par 5, moving downhill from an explosed tee, with a few pines perfectly placed between forked fairways to force you into yet another decision — go safe to the left, or challenge the right side with a shot at an uphill approach to an elevated green? No. 17 is Christensen’s favorite three-shotter, straightaway with a drive over the course’s only pond, leaving another decent shot at the green in two, while the final hole, a par 4 with mounding and the highway to the left and trees right, is one last risk-reward opportunity.
It’s all Bates at his wily, come-and-get-me best; he shares a certain playful design gene with Pete Dye. There’s plenty of room off the tee almost without fail, but it might not look that way when you step up and pick a line. Greens are big and rangy but not overly contoured, bailout areas abound and bunkers allow at least some forward progress.
It’s all fair, and right there, but play all the way back from nearly 7,200 yards, squeeze in the fescue, and yeah, we’re talking Open-caliber stuff.
ONE-TWO PUNCH
But back to resort golf reality, where Circling Raven dwells through its five- to six-month season, and dwells well, thanks to Christensen’s oversight and an excellent, well-equipped maintenance staff, a sweet pro shop nudged alongside the Twisted Earth Grill (also named for a revered tribal leader), and a very good hotel just a walk or short shuttle ride away.
It’s really all you could want in a challenging, upscale resort course, and proves the perfect counterpoint to The Coeur d’Alene, with its famed floating 14th green and somewhat friendlier (though sneaky tough in places) Scott Miller design, some 40 minutes to the north.
In other words, you’ve got to play it, too.
After a fairly substantial reworking of several holes about a decade ago — most notably on the front nine — this high-end resort course became even more of a joy, with its well-trained forecaddies, flawless conditioning, optional classic wooden speed boat ride from the main resort’s marina to a dock just below the clubhouse (don’t miss it) and, of course, views of lovely Lake Coeur d’Alene at nearly every turn. And the 14th isn’t the only conversation-piece par 3; the other four — including back-to-back gems at holes 5 and 6 — boast their own sweet lake views.
Of course a night or two in the waterfront hotel is and should be an option, but at a minimum work in a dinner at Beverly’s, the hotel’s five-star signature restaurant, with a bottle or two from the largest wine collection in the Pacific Northwest (even arrange a cellar tasting with an accredited sommelier). It’s a day you’ll savor through the long winter months.
GAMING AND MORE GOLF
One thing the lakeside resort doesn’t have is a casino, which is why Coeur d’Alene Casino Resort-Hotel makes for such a multifaceted home base. Guests have access to a full-service spa-pool complex and several restaurants serving fresh farm to table fare including the Red Tail Bar & Grill and Chinook, a fine steakhouse with an outdoor deck.
Beyond Circling Raven, plenty of outdoor pursuits await, and there are several small towns and local attractions to explore — including the H2H bison ranch, where you can get close (but not too close) to the huge animals and sample some bison-based cuisine.
Oh, and one other thing: Christensen says that a third nine and reconfigured practice range is in the works.
“It’ll be across the road, on a little flatter land, working back into those trees,” he said, pointing to the southwest. “Gene had designed a third championship nine that’ll be a little more walkable, and it’s under consideration by the tribal board. The idea is to get it built, then close each original nine, one at a time, to do some renovations. We’ll still have 18 holes available at all times. And we want to make the range more convenient to the clubhouse.”
Those renovations will touch bunkers (with a few to be removed, and a few new ones added, too), tees and greens — which will get a new poa annua-resistant strain of bent grass.
New “destination golf accommodations” are also in the master plan, giving players the option of staying right next to the course.
In the meantime, Christensen adds that Circling Raven is finalizing an agreement to host a Symetra Tour “Road To The LPGA” event next summer. “Those gals can really play, and this is a perfect course for them.”
For you, too.
GETTING THERE
Circling Raven and Coeur d’Alene Casino Resort-Hotel are located in Worley, Idaho, just over the Washington state border, about a 55-minute drive from the Spokane airport, which is served by Alaska, American, Delta and Southwest airlines. Shuttle service to the resort is available, or rent a car and soak up the scenery. RV’ing it? There’s plenty of room for even the biggest rig.
For tee times: www.circlingraven.com
For hotel reservations or information: www.cdacasino.com
The post Idaho’s Circling Raven Soars Ever Higher appeared first on Golf Tips Magazine.
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