#...a veteran champ like him

[chibishortdeath]

Simon doodles I drew at like 1 AM or so recently. In an absolutely genius move, my dumbass started getting sleepy and decided to draw him being sleepy too about it instead of just going to bed 💀💀💀💀💀. Literally thought about The Guy before I realized I could (and should) go sleep

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Austin Grossman’s ‘Fight Me’

On July 14, I'm giving the closing keynote for the fifteenth HACKERS ON PLANET EARTH, in QUEENS, NY. Happy Bastille Day! On July 20, I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

In Fight Me, the novelist and game developer Austin Grossman uses aging ex-teen superheroes to weigh the legacy of Generation X, in a work that enrobes its savage critique with sweet melancholia, all under a coating of delicious snark:

http://www.austingrossman.com/fight-me

It is, in other words, a very Gen X kinda novel. Prodigy (AKA Alex Beekman) is a washed-up superhero. As a nerdy high-schooler, he was given super powers by a mysterious wizard (posing as a mediocre teacher), who gave him an amulet and a duty. Whenever Alex touches the amulet and speaks the word of power, reaclun (which he insists is not "nuclear" backwards) he transforms into Prodigy, a nigh-invulnerable, outrageously handsome living god who is impervious to bullets, runs a one-minute mile, and fights like a champ. Prodigy, he is told, has a destiny: to fight the ultimate evil when it emerges and save the world.

Now, Alex is 40, and it's been a decade since he retired both Prodigy and his Alex identity, moving into a kind of witness protection program the federal government set up for him. He poses as a mediocre university professor, living a lonely and unexceptional life.

But then, Alex is summoned back to the superhero lair he shared with his old squad, "The Newcomers," a long-vacant building that is one quarter Eero Saarinen, three quarters Mussolini. There, he is reunited with his estranged fellow ex-Newcomers, and sent on a new quest: to solve the riddle of the murder of the mysterious wizard who gave him his powers, so long ago.

The Newcomers – an amped-up ninja warrior, a supergenius whose future self keeps sending him encouragement and technical schematics backwards through time, and an exiled magical princess turned preppie supermodel – have spent more than a decade scattered to the winds. While some have fared better than Alex/Prodigy, none of them have lived up to their potential or realized the dreams that seemed so inevitable when they were world famous supers with an entourage of fellow powered teens who worshipped them as the planet's greatest heroes.

As they set out to solve the mystery, they are reunited and must take stock of who they are and how they got there (cue Talking Heads' "Once In a Lifetime"). With flashbacks, flashforwards, and often hilarious asides, Prodigy brings us up to speed on how supers fail, and what it's like to live as a failed super.

The publisher's strapline for this book is "The Avengers Meets the Breakfast Club," which is clever, but extremely wrong. The real comp for this book isn't "The Breakfast Club," it's "The Big Chill."

When I realized this, I got briefly mad, because I've only had two good movie high concept pitches in my life and one of them was "Gen X Big Chill." Rather than veterans of the Summer of 68 confronting the Reagan years, you could have veterans of the Battle of Seattle living through the Trump years. One would be on PeEP, one would be an insufferable Andrew Tate-quoting bitcoiner, one would be a redpilled reactionary with a genderqueer teen, one would be a squishy lib, one a firebreathing leftist, etc. The soundtrack would just be top 40 tracks from artists who have songs on "Schoolhouse Rock Rocks":

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schoolhouse_Rock!_Rocks

Every generation has some way in which they seek to overthrow the status quo and build a new, allegedly better one, after all. "Big Chill"'s impact comes from its postmortem on a generation where it was easy to feel like you were riding destiny's rails to greatness thanks to the sheer size of the Boomer cohort and the postwar prosperity they lived through. A Gen X Big Chill would be a stocktaking of a generation that defined itself as a lost generation reared in the Boomers' shadows, armored against the looming corpo-climate apocalypse with the sword of irony and the shield of sincerity.

Which is basically what Grossman is doing here. What's more, doing this as a superhero story is a genius move – what could be a better metaphor for a teen's unrealistic certainty of destined greatness than a superhero? Superhero fantasies are irreducibly grandiose and unrealistic, but all the more beautiful and brave and compelling for it.

You know, like teens.

At 52, I'm a middle-aged Gen Xer. I've got two artificial hips and I just scheduled a double cataract surgery. My hairline is receding. I'm an alta kaker. But I wasn't always: I was a bright and promising kid, usually the youngest person in the room where we were planning big protests, ambitious digital art projects, or the future of science fiction. I had amazing friends: creative and funny and sweet, loyal and talented and just fun.

We're mostly doing okay (the ones that lived; fuck cancer and fuck heroin and fuck fentanyl). Some of us are doing pretty good. On a good day, I think I'm doing pretty good. I had a night in 2018 where I got to hang out, as a peer, with my favorite musician and my favorite novelist, both in the same evening. These were artists I'd all but worshipped as a teen. I remember looking at the two selfies I took than night and thinking, Man, if 15 year old me could see these, he'd say that it all worked out.

But you don't get to be 52 without having a long list of regrets and failures that your stupid brain is only too eager to show you a highlight reel from. No one gets to middle age without a haunting loss that is always trying to push its way to the fore in order to incinerate every triumph great and small and leave ashes behind.

That's why there's a "Big Chill" for every generation. Each one has its own specific character and meaning situated in history, but each one has to grapple with the double-edged sword of nostalgia. Not for nothing, John Hodgman (a bona fide Gen X icon) calls nostalgia "a toxic impulse."

Grossman really makes Fight Me work as a Gen X Big Chill. He's a great Gen X writer; his first novel, Soon I Will Be Invincible, was a knockout debut about superheroes and supervillains that had a very "The Boys" vibe, you know, that neat little move where you contend with the banal parts of a super's life and show how super powers don't make you a good person, or even a competent one.

His followup to Invincible came six years later. YOU is a coming-of-age story about the games industry with a second-person narrator (think "Zork"). Grossman is an accomplished game dev (Tomb Raider Legend, Deus X, Dishonored, etc), and he uses YOU to really plumb the depths of what games mean, what fun is, and how working on games isn't just work, it's often really shitty work, the opposite of fun:

https://memex.craphound.com/2013/04/16/austin-grossmans-you-brilliant-novel-plumbs-the-heroic-and-mystical-depths-of-gaming-and-simulation/

Grossman's last novel was Crooked, a very daffy alternate history in which Richard Nixon is a Cthulhoid sorcerer locked in a Lovecraftian battle of good and evil. This is a purely hilarious romp, wildly imaginative and deliciously certain to offend reactionary jerks:

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/08/26/austin-grossmans-crooked-the-awful-cthulhoid-truth-about-richard-nixon/

All those chops are on display in Fight Me: a book that covers its brooding with wisecracks, that spits out ten great gags per page even as it drives a knife into your heart. It's a great novel.

Fight Me doesn't come out in the US and Canada until tomorrow (it's been out in the UK, Australia, NZ, etc for more than a month). Normally, I would hold off on reviewing this until the on-sale date, but this is my last day on the blog for two weeks – I'm leaving on a family vacation early tomorrow morning. I'll see you on July 14!

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/01/the-big-genx-chill/#im-super-thanks-for-asking

[kikker-oma]

I feel bad for killing legend (not) so here is some legend fluff to fix my evil doings >:]

based off of:

__________

Deep footprints painted the snow as Legend rolled out his bedroll near the fire. Of course, once this snow melted it would be put out, but for now he should enjoy the warmth.

Sometimes he wonders if it ever snowed back in Koholit, probably not, as it really only “existed” while he was there. He looked over at Time, could he and Marin have what the old man has? He hoped so, but he will never know.

Bittersweet tears lingered through the veterans eyes for a second, but crying won’t change what he lost. Nothing can change what beautiful life he threw away-

“Hey vet! Wanna look at pictures on my slate?” Wild held up his slate. Legend still has no idea how these pictures are taken. Kids and their advanced technology…

“Not right now, I’m busy.” Busy sulking. Legend grumbled, “Can’t you go ask Sky or something? I’m sure he’d love to.”

The cook scrunched his nose for a second, and then shook his head, “Nah, he’s angry at me for using the master sword as a flashlight.”

“I-“ Legend paused he was so lonely would he want to have the company? Would this person end up leaving him like the rest? He could make do with company, for a little bit. “Fine. Sit.” He removed a blanket from the spot beside him. “Okay so basically, this is the time ‘Rule burnt an entire pot of water…” Wild zoomed in on the image, “I secretly pour the ash in your bowls whenever you guys are annoying.”

“That’s so petty!” Legend pokes the champion. He wraps blanket around himself, shielding him from the winter chill and basking in the chaos stored into a tiny screen.

“Oh so you want ashy oatmeal tonight?”

“No thank you.” Legend would prefer to have non toxic food.

As Wild scrolled through the slate, it became clear why Koholit looked like it did.

Legend wanted a family. …

And now, he got one.

“Hey champ?”

“hm?”

“I don’t say this enough, but I love you.”

Wild chuckled, and leaned in to the blanket burrito, “You too, brother.”

Awwww they're so CUUUTEE❤️❤️❤️❤️ ack, I think the biggest reason I love LU is because they really are all such brothers🥺

I love that Wild is avoiding Skys wrath because he needed the master sword as a flashlight hahaha he'll never learn lol

Being busy sulking is a MOOD lol

[that-house]

can you tell us more about dronestrike & the campaign theyre from?

just read thhe post about it & immediately became obsessed

(context: Dronestrike is my warrior cats OC, an american imperialist robot cat the size of a horse and equipped with enough firepower to wipe out the clans if it seems like they're at risk of falling to communism. in the oneshot he accidentally fired a nuke at the city of LA and blamed "every other country" in a phone call with Bidenstar to avoid getting in trouble)

it wasn't a campaign, just an 11-person oneshot in the single most chaotic discord voice call I have ever been in. so i haven't played him since then, nor will i ever play him again

i can provide you a variety of facts about him i came up with after the fact though because he's a funny enough character that i can't stop thinking about him:

his brain is composed of three parts with an equal amount of control over his actions: the soul of a vietnam veteran, an AI replica of a cat, and every single super bowl halftime commercial

he comes armed with combat knives for claws, a machine gun in his mouth, a high caliber sniper rifle built into his spine, a pistol that he somehow uses with cat paws, and a douglas air-2 genie air-to-air unguided nuclear missile

transition could not save him because all trans people are godless communists who bully him on twitter

Dronestrike acknowledges every independence movement if only so that America has more countries to eventually colonize

he has read Marx so he can misuse quotes and flex on any marxists who haven't read theory

his greatest wish is for america to have won 'nam

doesn’t really have any physical possessions because he’s a cat who doesn’t have pockets or a permanent residence. he does however have $8.6 million in Shell oil stock

Dronestrike if he played League of Legends: only plays champs who have america-themed skins, but doesn’t actually own the skins because that would be giving money to a chinese company. plays all of them jungle to poor results. iron 4 two thousand games this season

has no mouth but wishes he did so he could taste the burgers that honest Americans have died to defend

Dronestrike's dream world is world war 3, with the stipulation that there is an american flag superimposed over EVERYONE'S vision instead of just his

if he had 24 hours to live he would start a “second american revolution” by attacking England

he isn't a good kisser: no lips, he's a cat, and also george washington famously said that romantic connections weaken your spiritual link with The State

response to being trapped in a maze of mirrors: breaks through the mirrors without noticing, but also can’t recognize his reflection. Thinks he has to fight these teleporting commie clones of himself to save the United States of America

he's on Santa's naughty list

on Halloween he dresses up as George Washington and “trick or disappears” journalists

Dronestrike hates the reds, the brits, women, and most importantly, himself

prefers fundamentals over schmovement

favorite board game is Monopoly because watching people go bankrupt or be imprisoned is one of his hobbies

his happiest memory is his first glimpse of an amazon packaging facility and the horrible conditions of the workers

favorite season is summer: 4th of July babey!!! the holiday where you're allowed to blow shit upppp!!! he also frequently sets off fireworks in the off season to scare dogs and people with anxiety

doesn’t date but he sends tech billionaires unethically farmed flowers sometimes

doesn’t play video games but he has a simulated CoD lobby’s chat going at all times in his head. they call him slurs whenever he misses a shot

relates strongly to Patrick Bateman

he was in ShadowClan. they picked which clan he would be deployed into by having him take the official "which clan are you" quiz

sometimes he doubts that he has the heart of a true warrior

[lil-shiro]

Article: LANCE STROLL ON F1’S FUTURE & THE NEW ASTON MARTIN VANTAGE

As always – article highlights under the cut with pics included, full one linked in title

Aston Martin Aramco F1 Team's Lance Stroll reflects on how far he's come, the team's current direction, and the new Vantage in an interview with BH.

The Canadian youngster emerged as the Italian F4 Champion with Prema Powerteam in 2014 before becoming Toyota Racing Series champion in 2015. A little later on at the 2015 FIA Formula 3 European Championship

[FIA Formula 3 European Championship / Thomas Suer]

Lance Stroll would ink his page in history as the youngest Formula 1 rookie to ever record a podium finish (P3) at the 2017 Azerbaijan Grand Prix. And at the 2020 Turkish Grand Prix, he’d earn his maiden F1 pole position. To date, he’s collected 285 career points across 155 race weekends.

Stroll has had the good fortune of partnering with elite-calibre veterans, four-time champ Sebastian Vettel and two-time champ Fernando Alonso, during their respective tenures at Aston Martin F1. So what exactly has he learned studying at the proverbial feet of these world-beating masters?

“From Seb, I learnt a lot about how to go about a weekend,” Stroll explains.

“He was very detail orientated; he wanted to know every little detail behind any decision. He also did a lot for the sport over the years, which I really respect.”

“Fernando teaches us all about passion and motivation. That’s what makes Fernando who he is. Like all great athletes, he’s constantly pushing himself to get better every day.”

Posed with the hypothetical scenario of being able to partner any driver in history — apparently something F1 athletes get asked “a lot” but not something they ever really think about — he replied:

“Growing up, I was a huge fan of Michael Schumacher. I used to get up super early in Canada to watch him race against my current teammate, Fernando. So, I think I’d go Michael.”

Aston Martin F1 is in a crucial transition stage. One that could inform its success as a constructor for coming half decade.

“It’s like you said, we’re in this building stage and there’s such a lot to be excited about right now,” offers Stroll when I prompt him.

“This is a team that is really pushing hard, and it’s an amazing thing to be a part of. We have the Honda partnership from 2026, a state-of-the-art campus with a new wind tunnel, we’re working on our own gearbox… There’s so much to be positive about.”

“The goal has always been to build a team that’s capable of fighting for — and winning — World Championships. That’s a goal that I really believe in, and one that I want to help the team achieve.”

If there’s one statement Lance Stroll wanted to make about both himself as professional driver and Aston Martin as a brand… what would it be?

“We’re doing things with focus, dedication, attention to detail. Aston Martin is a 111-year-old brand and it’s part of British, and international, culture. We want to uphold that tradition and quest for excellence by creating a Formula 1 team that represents the very best.”

“I’m proud to play a part in that, and I’ve been incredibly excited by the progress we’ve made and the developments that have been coming to turn us into a team that can represent one of the greatest brands in the world on the global stage.”

[All non-archival images included in this article have been captured by photographer Simon Emmett. Lance Stroll dressed by BOSS Menswear.]

[needfantasticstories]

Chapter 8 is FINALLY done!

"He’d traveled across time and between worlds, conquered shadows and broken the dreams of gods, and he could do it again, goddesses willing or not."

Legend faces his first Skulltulas, and meets someone new.

Exit Strategy

Legend leaned back on the metal door, hands shaking from exertion. He tried to catch his breath amid the smoke and ashes of the cavern, but it caught acrid in his throat and settled heavy in his lungs. Reluctant, he peeled open and ate one of the two honey candies he always kept in reserve for Hyrule or Wind, for healing and small bribes respectively, and chased it with another bottle of magic-restoring potion. 

The last few red drops of potion in the glass glittered, mesmerizing in the dim torchlight. He put the empty bottle away. How the mage came to possess so many red potions from his own era, instead of just the elixirs common to Wild’s time, struck him again as odd. Still, Legend wasn’t complaining. They’d not been to his era for weeks, and his stock ran out days ago. Wild made fantastic elixirs for a range of uses, but magic wasn’t one of them. 

The fake wall thudded as heavy weights slammed against it. Skulltulas . Legend winced at the thought of facing them again. Not yet . Tapping and scraping on the metal sang a gruesome tune of anger and hunger that reverberated into his spine.  

Time and Sky had mentioned defeating the pests before. Apparently Wild had them too. He had to get back outside and face them. It’s Champion's era. What would he use? He huffed a weak laugh at a dozen memories of the champ exploding trees and fish, to Time’s horror. Bombs . And a rrows. Bomb arrows . Legend did not want to bring the whole canyon down just yet, and so searched his pouch. No Tempered blade in its usual place, that had been left in the mud at the ambush, along with his mirror shield. 

Legend brushed over a familiar hilt in his bag, his fingers tracing over worn, braided leather. He gripped it tight and pulled the blade free, remembering that night, years ago, when he’d lifted it from uncle’s mantle to chase the girl’s pleading voice, Zelda’s voice, in his mind. His hands were so small back then. That night, hope from the princess and priests gave him courage to press on despite the rest of the kingdom turning against him. And he’d done it. Just a child. A man now. He looked at the simple blade, and repeated the promise he’d made that night.

I thought I ended him. I’m sorry I failed your world. But I will bring you back so we can heal it together, break your curse, and keep Gannon in his grave .

He’d traveled across time and between worlds, conquered shadows and broken the dreams of gods, and he could do it again, goddesses willing or not. 

If he were truly blessed, Ravio might be ready for another adventure with him. 

Breathe .

Yanking his power gloves on, Legend turned and shoved the metal wall open. 

Pale sunlight bloomed through the gap to reveal biting cold air, drifting snow, and red sand.

Beyond the sandstone overhang casting its shadow over him, daylight shattered and speared between ropes of silk that criss-crossed the natural arena of the canyon. They almost masked the deep pit gaping in the center of it all in shadow. 

Spiders twice his size with skull-like bodies and golden legs scurried to reach him, clawing forward on the webs and the ground as if starving. More emerged from the deep pit. They chittered and clacked as they crawled closer, spitting crude nets of webbing toward him. 

He sidestepped the first net, then leveled his fire rod at the skulltula who’d sent it. The monster hissed as another one overtook it, both scrambling to reach the veteran first. Legend appreciated the wave of heat he released, a relief in the frigid air, and he left two charred bodies smoking where they fell before they burst into purple fog. The shimmering webs all around him crumpled and twisted away from the blaze, creating a small gap in the skulltulas’ dense weave. 

Fresh air blew in, clearing the smoke and ash and Legend breathed. 

“Rulie!” he bellowed, just in case. But only more spiders stirred in answer. Another massive black and gold body dropped in front of him. He stabbed it on instinct. With a crack and a crunch, it fell, legs twitching around his sword arm. He jerked the blade free and cleared more webs with fire. The sticky webs shriveled and spiders dropped. 

Legend spun around the pit: slicing, burning, stabbing, again, again, again. Webs fell and revealed a vibrant blue glow coming from the far side of the arena. He’d seen a few like it before: in the rainforest where they’d first landed in Wild’s Faron region, and again just before Ghirahim’s ambush. It had to be another shrine, or similar sheikah magic. Wild used them to teleport, and it might get him and Hyrule back too, faster than slogging uphill into snowy mesas with Yiga on their tails. 

Fire and sword steadily cleared a path to the shrine, skull-faced bodies leaving clouds of sulfuric smoke. Veils of webbing drifted almost lazily away under the golden sunlight now filling the arena, uncovering facades of windows and doors built against the cliffs.

Sooner than he’d expected, the last skulltula shriveled under his flames. 

Legend panted as he turned all around, searching the walls and the pit for stragglers. Fire rod swapped for his traveler’s shield, the veteran braced himself for what might come next. The pit would be an ideal place for a moldorm, or gleeok. He watched, and waited.  

Nothing moved. 

The veteran adventurer wiped sweat from his face. 

Wind blew sand across the gap, but not a whisper or sound came from inside. Anxious to get this over with, he peered down over the edge. Little yellow lights glowed around the edge, but no monsters emerged. 

Hesitant, he scoured the arena, now painted in ash and scorch marks. “RULIE!” he shouted, and listened. But there was no sound, nor sign of any life in the arena beside himself. “RULIE!” The word echoed and faded, unanswered. 

He turned to Wild’s shrine again, unsteady and jittery as the rush of battle left a swell of discomfort in its wake. Lightheaded and cold, but moving forward anyway, Legend approached the structure cautiously.  

This shrine, radiating a piercing blue light, towered higher than the two others he’d seen: it jutted from the sand like a spike, the top half of smooth crystalline rectangles, but still with the gaudy, worm-like swirls around the base and archway like the other shrines. 

Legend  jumped atop its bulky platform. 

A pedestal with a slanted top glowed, a rectangular hollow in the center. The light faintly pulsed. 

But, how to make it work? How to activate it? Legend wiped sweat and ash from his cooling face and studied the pedestal beside the archway. The tilted face shone so brightly it was hard to look at for long. He explored the entire surface with his fingertips, the slate smooth and cold as ice, colder even than the drifting snowflakes melting on his hair and hands.  

He pushed at the lights, prodded them in different orders, copied the pattern of constellations marked on the shrine. 

Nothing .

He tried a mystery seed. He tried spells memorized from books Ravio brought up from Lorule about magic and potions. 

Nothing. 

He sent flames over the pedestal, across the entrance, and inside the little cave-like room within, hoping to activate something . Not a scratch or scorch mark remained for his efforts. Legend kept at it: he prodded every reachable surface, inside and out, for signs of a switch or a puzzle, but found only that perplexing dip in the center of the pedestal. 

Nothing.

The light continued to pulse steadily, like an ancient mechanical heartbeat. He felt the gap, imagining the size and shape of what might fit inside. 

Wild’s slate. This dip was just the right size for it. 

Then it all made sense. That was the key. So only Wild could use it. 

Determination turned to sour disappointment. In the blue glow of the shrine’s cave, Legend eased himself down to sit on the inner glowing platform. Too late, he realized it might have been a mistake: once teased with rest, his body collapsed. Sleepless nights and too many long fights made his limbs sluggish. The sun outside shone too bright. His joints grated at the slightest movement. He closed his eyes, half-wanting to sink into dreams, even knowing how dangerous as those could be, whether by a new deity needing his help to wake, or simply from a stray monster finding him an easy meal. 

Legend groaned and forced his eyes open. He could not sleep yet. He needed to bring Hyrule back. If he could find his successor and get out, hold on long enough to get them to safety…away from that horrid demon and the mage the Yiga mentioned. Mages…Aghanim. Veran. Twinrova…the potions, stolen from the mage’s room…

His eyes closed, head dipping. 

…the book.

The book! 

Legend shook himself harder and sat up. He needed a plan if he wanted to prevent the terrible fate the book showed, and the hell that would bring: a new incarnation of Ganon, Hyrule dead. The Yiga knew about the curse. They would kill him. Gannon would be back. 

Or the Calamity. 

There was no time to waste. Legend unfurled the map. Blue light shone through the paper as he traced with shaking hands over dry red and black ink. None of the words looked familiar. Legend traced his wandering path backwards, pausing only to note that the mage’s chamber and the war room with the long table didn’t appear on the map. 

Only two wings of the sprawling complex remained unexplored. Hope sparked warm in his chest when he realized one of them led to this arena. Examining the cliff walls again, he cleared out blistered webs and loose boulders, revealing a decorative gate. With a small, red-tiled roof and simple wooden frame, it was far humbler than the ornate gate framing the hidden passage he’d left earlier. It blended perfectly with the stone. 

Hyrule, hold on. I’m almost there.

Legend tried pulling, pushing, and testing for hidden levers, but found none. It was like that tall shrine all over again. Which, as before, meant Wild probably had the answer. If Wars was around, he’d put money on the “key” to it. With a laugh and a hope, Legend lit the fuse, aimed, and tossed.   

The explosion rocked the canyon. Sand and rocks poured down like waterfalls from the cliffs above. Dust cleared from the entrance. The veteran could almost hear Wild saying “See? Bombs!” with that wide, tilted grin of his. 

Legend entered the mangled cave door. He leapt over debris and mangled spike boobytraps, and rushed deeper inside, throwing stones ahead to spring any more traps before he reached them. 

Sweat dripped down his neck. He threw stones ahead as he rushed through the corridors, and sure enough spikes shot from the floor several yards ahead. Amateurs , he thought as they retracted, and he rushed across easily on winged boots. 

Legend left a slew of mangled floor and wall spike-traps in his wake.

A large hallway opened ahead. His footsteps echoed, disturbing the quiet, yet no Yiga appeared. Strange . Nor had they appeared outside. Too empty, too quiet . Legend didn’t like it. After killing the monsters, and certainly after bombing the door, the place should be swarming with Yiga. 

Had they retreated? Or if Hyrule had escaped, was he giving them such a tough fight elsewhere that they’d forgotten him? Or were they planning some attack or trap ahead? He’d rather take them on than continue with this eerie silence. But perhaps there were more monsters here than just the spiders, and they’d left defending the entrance to them? His gut twisted as he tried to push away another haunting thought: maybe they’ve started the ritual. Maybe they don’t need the book.

Blade and shield ready, he ran into the next hall, only to find more empty halls and sparsely scattered torches.

Cleanse . The word had been repeating in his mind since he arrived. A drum beat pushing him forwards while he’d searched. He would burn them all out on sight to free the world from this threat. For Wild. For Malon and Time. For Rulie, and for this era that had endured horrors enough. 

But where were they? He knew he’d not killed all of them, the slippery bastards. Legend followed the switchbacking hall to the doorway of the next room, and stepped inside. 

Inside, he found a spacious room bathed in the same red torchlight as the rest of the complex. The floor had been carved four steps deep and covered in sand: a training arena. Walkways converged at a large, padded stage in the center. Wide towers halfway to the corners of the room held lamps and long banners, the painted red eyes watching from all directions.

On the stage sat an old man: cross-legged, hands resting across a thick wooden cane in his lap. The coiled, blue haze of the man’s magic aura felt ancient . Legend had not felt such a stark reminder of his own youth since meeting Time, and this stranger felt much older still. He sat motionless, completely at ease.

And no wonder, the veteran thought: the old man was huge, and unlike any other Yiga he’d seen—bullish like the blademasters, but much taller. Even Time would have to look up to face him. Four and Wind could weave between his legs without bothering to duck. 

The man wore no red bodysuit, but unadorned black robes. Painted on his black mask, the signature upside-down eye of the Yiga shimmered gold in the room's red glow. Snowy hair fanned in two halves from his top knot, hanging nearly to his shoulders.

Legend had seen this too many times before: the smug, relaxed arrogance of a dungeon’s final guardian. Usually a good sign that I’m going the right way, that I’m close. Perhaps this was the mage he’d stolen the book and potions from. On the far side of the room stood the way ahead. To his surprise, it was not a locked door, but an open hallway.  He didn’t need a dungeon key—he just needed to get past this man.

Legend readied his sword and shield. 

The stranger rose to his feet with the gravity of a talus. Legend resisted the urge to take a step back. Matching his shocking height, his voice rumbled deeply: “Come in, hero. I will not hurt you. I only wish to speak with you.” He planted the cane before him, resting his huge arms on it.  

That was… unexpected. 

Legend held his weapons tighter, eyeing the wooden cane of his opponent warily. Magic radiated around it. “Thanks, but I’m only passing through.”

“You seek your friend.” 

Irritation flared in the veteran; not only at the man, but at his own confusion. What the hell was going on? Why was the enemy offering to talk ?

“Obviously,” Legend seethed. “You assholes and your demon lord were the ones who took him.” Though he’d hoped to match the even temper of the old man, he could not keep a snarl from leaking into his voice. 

“No, hero. That demon is not my master. Not yet. My master is gone. I merely serve the clan in his honor, training them in our ways, but the mage leads our tribe now.”

So, not the mage. There went that theory. “Then who are you?” 

“I am… I am no one. Perhaps one day I may reclaim my name, my revenge, and my honor. Until then, I am simply a teacher.”

Legend waited for him to elaborate, but he remained on the stage, watching. Maybe. Hard to tell under the mask. But the teacher remained silent. Legend rolled his eyes. Cryptic much? “Fine. Teacher, then. The Mage is in charge. Got it.”

A deep chuckle resounded from the Teacher. “The mage serves the demon lord. Yet he believes Lord Ghirahim serves him .” 

Then he had the audacity to laugh again . “I sincerely apologize, young hero. No doubt yours was. not a warm welcome. We knew you’d not be easy to convince. But Fate has foretold of the role you will fulfill. The mage wishes to show you how to save your friend’s life. We will ensure your safety, for Destiny has willed it so.”

“Yeah, you were right,” Legend deadpanned, “I’m not convinced. I happen to know your mage wants my friend dead. So let's get this over with.” 

The old man lifted the cane like a sword.

Legend sent magic into his boots, and the room streaked into blurs of color on either side as he charged the stage. When he reached it, the huge man disappeared in a cloud of red. 

Legend took the chance. He rushed across the stage and onward to the open hallway on the far side. No slammed door, no lock, like he was used to. Just another hall. He only needed to stay ahead of this man and keep a strong lead as he searched. At worst they’d battle in the hall where Legend’s smaller form would have the advantage. With luck, the stubborn old brute would be bound to the room like most dungeon guardians, but Wild’s era proved unpredictable in that regard already. They’d all heard about the roaming lynels.   

Legend jumped up the opposite steps in time to watch the tree-sized wooden bars slam over the doors, locking him in. He barely stopped in time. 

“NO!” Legend struck the bars with his blade, but he knew it was pointless. In the center, he found a slot for a key. Legend scoured the room for the man who’d done it.

He did not see him anywhere. Time to draw him out. Win the fight. Get the key. 

He walked cautiously back to the stage. The veteran turned slowly, listening. The silence pressed like a weight. 

A brush of displaced air whispered behind him, and Legend spun and blocked the old man’s staff with his shield. The dense pole forced his shield down until he was nearly on his knees in a crouch. Legend swung his sword below his shield across Teacher’s leg. Metal clashed as his knight’s sword bounced off a hidden shin guard, its silver metal peeking through the sliced black fabric. 

Legend tried to get out from under the man’s downward pressure, shoving with the help of his boots and jumping over a low swipe at his legs. But when he jumped, Teacher shoved him back. Skidding, Legend dug in and stopped the enemy’s goron-like momentum just enough to risk stabbing at Teacher’s knee, careful to keep his head covered. 

The old man dodged it easily with a sidestep, but Legend turned his wrist and hacked from the side, digging into his soft inner thigh. A hiss told him he'd drawn blood, at least. But the pressure grew unbearable against his shield, threatening to topple him backward and crush him. Both arms burned as he tried again to shove Teacher off, but this time the boost from his pegasus boots was not enough to force him back. 

“Fate cannot be thwarted. Yield, and save your friend.” The man spoke without strain, as if the shoving match between them took no effort. Legend ground his teeth and trickled more and more magic into his boots to push forward, yet the force against him mounted higher. Goddesses, he’s strong. He wants to test me.

Legend preferred to keep some surprises up his sleeve. He straightened with just a little boost from his bracelet, then danced aside in a spin—cap and tunic flaring—and let Teacher lurch forward in the empty place he’d left. Legend swung his sword around to hack into the old man’s unarmored spine as he passed. 

Only Teacher hadn’t lurched at all, but dashed forwards quickly— too quickly—and spun as Legend had, nimble as a yearling buck. He faced Legend with that eerie black mask and flung his wrist. Two kunai blades, disturbingly like Ghirahim’s, slammed into Legend’s hastily-raised shield. The huge man charged again, cane ready to strike. But the veteran leapt high, flipping backwards in a soaring arc, and aimed his blade for the man’s head as he passed below. His opponent’s momentum would be his undoing.

But Teacher was gone . Legend’s blade cut empty air instead of splitting a skull. 

Dammit! The teleporting coward!

Legend’s momentum sent a bruising shock through his knees, joints nearly buckling, as he landed. 

Where did he–

The old man’s voice resonated from the door Legend needed to reach. “Hero of Legend, your name is well remembered by my tribe. In your time, we were allies.”   

Legend straightened, panting. “Your tribe is just traitors and murderers now.” 

“Young mage, hear me.”

“I’m not a—” Legend started, but Teacher interrupted, raising a placating hand.

“Upon the memory of Master Khoga, I vow that we only wish to teach you the spell to keep your companion alive.” 

Legend had to fight back a laugh. Wild loved telling that story around the campfire of the Yiga clan leader accidentally killing himself with his own weapon and falling to his death. Yet the raw earnestness in Teacher’s voice gave him enough sense to not mock the still-grieving man. “Oh, well, now I’m convinced.” Legend scoffed. “Unless you're actually going to help me get Hyrule out of here, let’s get this over with.”

Teacher heaved a deep sigh, and rested his pole between his feet. “Let fate prove my words, as the knights of old, since you wish to fight. If you disarm me, I swear to stand aside. But if I disarm you, then you will stay and listen to the mage.”

“I’m not a knight. If you really know who I am, then you already know I’d never agree with anyone trying to bring back Gannon.”

“Do not let pride blind you to the good you may achieve with our help.” He lowered the cane to his side. “Let the mage teach you the spell that will save the Hero of Hyrule.” 

Heat filled Legend’s vision, crawling up his neck, just like the rage he’d felt when he first arrived. It swelled to a boil as the pieces fell into place.

Legend knew what it showed in the pages of the book, knew what the mage truly had in store for Hyrule. “I don’t need him to teach me a damn thing. I know what you actually plan to do with ’Rule, so honestly? Fuck off.” 

“You do not understand your role—”

“Enough!” Legend didn’t bother letting him finish. “I’m getting the key and getting out.”

“Hmm. It is a shame you chose to fight against Fate. But in the end, there will be no choice.” Teacher lifted his cane overhead, and the spell of concealment over it shattered. The Teacher lowered twin, single-edge blades, like the blademasters but larger and with hooked cross guards the size of dinner plates. His robes took on the fit of the blademasters too, but remained dark as night. “The mage will find other ways to convince you.”

Legend’s scowled, readied his weapons, and watched for the old man to make the next move. 

Teacher disappeared again. A sudden grasp on his arms startled him. Legend shoved backwards to knock the old man down and break his grip. They tumbled off the walkway into the sand. 

Legend scrambled up to face his enemy, spitting out the dry grains and shaking more out of his hair. “Can’t win without disappearing?” he shouted.

“As you fight with magic—” Teacher was behind him again. Legend whipped around and used his bracelet to slam his sword hard against the man. His opponent raised one arm and took the blow on his spiked vambrace, the blade inched from his masked head. “So do I.”

He had a point. Legend despised him all the more for it. 

Teacher scissored his blades across Legend’s legs. But the hero leapt high, backflipping over the arcing blades, his sword arm coiling with tension to drive into the enemy’s head. Spiked arm guards blocked the midair attack, and before Legend landed, Teacher snatched his sword arm and flung him bodily onto the stage like a sack of grain.

Legend rolled to his feet from the toss and spun to face his opponent. Teacher did not pause his assault. Jumping onto the stage, he barreled forward, then tucked and rolled to the left when Legend struck, but it was a feint and too swiftly he leapt up from the roll and swerved right, crossed his arms to hold the blades high, and if not for Legend’s own flip back at the last moment, they would have taken his head as they scissored again. Instead, they swished just below his boots. 

Blades lunged for him again, tips sparking with sharp magic. Legend barely rolled under their reach in time. 

Teacher fought like a hurricane. Lightning fast, he hacked both blades at Legend’s right, striking the shield with the force of a lynel, in blurred succession. Reverberating pain shot up his arm. Legend swung into the storm with his own sword, but the man jumped high, and as Legend’s swipe passed through the abandoned spot, Teacher dropped down with his blades poised downward to skewer Legend from above. Legend blocked overhead, but marveled at how the huge man continued to hover above the ground. He’d seen the archers do it, but not blademasters, and this man seemed to be their teacher. Both blades swung down at his left side this time, Legend’s sword arm barely fast enough to block and parry. He could hardly track the motion. Metal flashed from the right and above, brutally shoving his shield and nearly dislocating his shoulder. Legend could only defend. 

Still unbound by gravity, Teacher twisted in the air, spinning like a children’s toy as his blades became a whirl of red, like fire. Legend backed away, but the whirlwind slammed his shield, forcing him down to one knee. 

It stopped when a fist cracked against his cheek.

The world tilted sideways, and his nerves kicked in late, dulled by whatever blow had landed on his head. Gravity caught him, clawing him down to the floor, though it seemed a tenuous situation, as if  up and down could change direction again at any moment. Legend blinked hard several times, trying to get up, but shooting pain in his ribs kept him still. Curling his head up, he found a black shoe pressing him down.  

Searing pain at the back of his knee brought the world back into sharp focus, and he gasped as a terrible sting throbbed, pulsing with heat and shock up and down his entire leg. The man’s dripping blade pulled free of the wound, and Legend realized he’d cut his tendon.

Bastard!

“Yield,” Teacher ordered. 

Cleanse.

  Legend let his hand answer, using the force of his power bracelet to strike Teacher’s unarmored hamstring with a gift from Sky clenched in his fist: a woodcarving knife.

The brute grunted, and his leg lifted enough for the veteran to push free. 

Legend rolled under the man as the dual blades swung down where his legs had been a moment before. He’s still not fighting to kill. But I am! The veteran continued his roll behind Teacher and lunged to his feet, jumping high enough to swing at the back of his neck. But the old man turned with the agility of a snake and parried, shoving Legend back. 

Legend landed clumsily in the sand on one leg, careful not to put weight down on his leg, but he could feel his magic ring already knitting the wound closed. 

Teacher paused, breathing harder now. “Fate is unrelenting in its tapestry. Not even you can undo the weaving. Stop this pointless game.”

Cleanse.  

“Funny, because I’ve killed the destined King of Evil even as a goddess-damned child , every time he showed his ugly face. Don’t waste my time.”

Legend did not wait for the old man to make the next move. His leg had nearly recovered enough to walk on. Okay. Time to dance . 

Shield away, the veteran pulled free a cane, the top curled like a fern. A cane from the Dark World. The smooth blue surface shone purple in the red light as Legend lifted the cane of Byrna high. 

When Teacher’s blow struck, his strength turned against him, bouncing off the shield and sending him flying backward with the force. 

The hole left in Legend’s chest by the consumed magic ached bone-deep, but he was ready for the next attack. Fire rod again in hand, he gave the man no chance to recover his balance before hurling flame after flame against him. 

The ground erupted at his feet, but Legend was ready. Nothing he hadn’t already seen today.  

Legend sidestepped the blaze and lunged for the man with all his strength, natural and otherwise. 

Then a curious thing happened.

The teacher moved like someone trapped in dense mud, like time itself had slowed down. The flames behind him crawled in its attempt to chase him. The teacher hardly moved at all, blades slowly cutting the air. Legend’s shield was already poised to block it. He’d seen this before… where had he seen it? The veteran could not recall just then, not in the heat of battle. Not daring to question the sudden surplus of time to attack, Legend landed his blow, heard the force of his hit, and yet the man hardly moved! Legend struck again, and again, and again, finishing with a spin attack.

The man flew backward into a pillar so hard that his mask cracked in half, landing beside his limp form on the sand. 

Legend hurried down, and rifled around the man’s robes, searching for a bag or a...

There!

Legend darted across the walkway and up the stairs, and he shoved the key he’d taken into the lock. The gate slowly began to rise.

A brush of displaced air warned him. Legend swiveled and drew up his sword in one fluid motion. 

Legend and the Teacher both held blades to each other’s throats. 

“I will yield, as a sign of my sincerity. But consider this warning, hero,” the teacher growled, lowering his blade. “Fate is inescapable.”

And in a cloud of red, he was gone. 

The doors opened.

Legend didn’t wait around to see if his concession was just a trick.

--------------

@estelian-01!!!! This chapter is dedicated to you! Thanks for being so excited about this fic, it has significantly led to it's forward progress!

A TRILLION Thanks to @hotcheetohatredwastaken for beta reading and giving fantastic suggestions, and finding all my silly little errors.

Also shout out to @not-freyja for answering all my many, many Legend questions!

[tobiasdrake]

How strong is Mr. Mark "Hercule" Satan in the manga? From what I know, in the anime we see him either vanish or use the afterimage technique (forget which) and I think dodge bullets - is that in the manga too, or he is just meant to be at the peak of real-life human ability (like the guys Kid Goku and Krillin fight in the preliminaries of the World Tournament)?

Peak of human ability. Within human limits, Mr. Satan is the world's greatest martial artist.

Right off the bat, he's identified by martial arts lore guy Yamcha as the martial arts champion of the world. The Cell Games reporter, known in the dub as Jimmy Firecracker, corroborates this statement at the tournament.

The anime hypes him up by pulling multiple buses and ripping phone books in half. However, in the manga, the Cell Games start like right after Mr. Satan steps out on-panel for the first time and gives his speech. Goku and the others have one chapter to wrap up the revival of Shenron and then it's off to the tournament.

The first we see of what he can really do is when he steps into the ring, bringing with him a tremendous demonstration of his power.

Jimmy's right. This is very impressive.

Uh. Within human limits.

It's just that we're a bit beyond that baseline by this point.

Incidentally, a common misconception for Mr. Satan is that he won the 24th Tenkaichi Budokai leading up to the Cell Games. He did not. The Tenkaichi Budokai was cancelled after Piccolo nuked the island it was held on, and wouldn't be revived until after the Cell Games.

That said, he did compete in it after the Cell Games, and he did win the gold.

This is a very easily confused plot point, so much so that even the Daizenshuu gets it wrong and pegs the 24th as having just happened five days before the Androids activated.

But although Mr. Satan was the world champion, he was not the champion of that tournament. Not yet.

All indications seem to be that Mr. Satan won the 24th legitimately. No tricks, no shenanigans, no fooling around. The punch machine records Satan at 137 points of... whatever measurement they're using.

It's just a couple points under the all-time record set at the 24th, also by Mr. Satan.

This slightly lower reading is probably due to the, uh, changes in his workout regimen since the 24th.

We never get to see this tournament, but we get a glimpse of it and its structure through its contestants. A few of the contestants at the 25th are veterans from the 24th, coming back to try and take another crack at the champ.

Satan is the leader of this pack, having won his championship belt in a stunning final bout against Jewel that left the announcer underwhelmed and disappointed.

Goku and his rivals have absolutely ruined this man for standard human-level martial arts. They've raised the bar so high, Mr. Satan couldn't possibly compare.

Though, by Gohan's estimation, Videl's outgrown him too.

Had the 25th not had all these aliens and gods and warlocks cluttering it up, there's a real chance this tournament would have ended in Videl dethroning her father in the finals. Something I would dearly pay to see.

As far as dodging bullets, I think the closest he comes to that is when these two idiots attack Buu.

When he scurries out of the way of this RPG they fire at Majin Buu. Though we don't see how far he got, as he momentarily vanishes from the manga following this blast. Perspective remains on the attackers reloading and firing on Buu some more while Satan makes his way to their position under cover of tunnel vision.

The actual gun that's shot at him in this fight hits its mark. But also it was a shot from behind so he couldn't have dodged it even if he could dodge bullets.

So I'm gonna call that "inconclusive" on whether he can dodge bullets. By battleboard logic, I'm sure escaping the RPG is an incredible feat. Mr. Satan is only peak human but, like, so is Batman. He's within human limits, but "human limits" can be extremely flexible in animation.

This is the same kind of thing as when cartoon characters dodge lasers.

And that's Mr. Satan's career in a nutshell. He's the biggest fish of a small pond (except for his daughter who's outgrown him). Talented and formidable in his own right, supremely impressive within his weight class, but woefully out of his league.

[cashmere-caveman]

hello everyone :) inspired by this post by @burrowingregg, please enjoy my thoughts on "what if crozier fucking dies and little becomes captain"

if he dies before sir john

one of two outcomes. sir john either doubles down ("we have to find the nwp for francis!"/"well now that the haters are gone its time to have Real Men Solve This Like Champs") or he goes hm. maybe this is a sign and actually this is a dire situation. perhaps we should pack it in men

i dont rlly have any thoughts on this except i am rlly curious what this would do to fitzy. does he ramp up the charming pretender routine now that he's the uncontested no1 son and crozier cleary didnt know what he was talking about or would this be an early wakeup call and jumpstart the fury beach convo w blanky?

if he dies pre ep4 (tuunbaq)

the lashing would not turn out this way bc little wouldnt have hickey punished as a boy -> less men would berth on erebus

mutiny later maybe? definitely different

(is this a good moment to squeeze in some solittle bc they have to cooperate to keep all the men in check.)

definitely better communication within terror command bc the lieutenants will know little is going to hear them out i think and since little sucks at asserting authority hed have to rely on them more than crozier did

weird tension between jopson and little i think. is it sexual. is it antagonistic. actually maybe i could see jopson joining a mutiny in a crozier dead scenario hmmm…. heres how hickeyjopson can still win !!1!!!!!

if he doesnt survive the withdrawal

jopson.exe stopped working

maybe i could see jopson joining a mutiny in a crozier dead scenario hmmm…. heres how hickeyjopson can still win !!1!!!!! (1).docx

joplittle coworkers to enemies speedrun. i think jopson would grieve so fucking much but then go Ah! We compartmentalise this emotion! Nothing easier than that :) and then hed be so fucking passive agressive as the new captains steward without even realising bc WHY does little walk around alive and hale when little was the one who got crozier the alcohol that killed him how is that fair (jopson is Not at a point where he is willing to confront the fact that he himself was just as much an enabler as little, if not more so)

also sidenote but he wouldnt shave little since that actually never was in a stewards job description in the first place lol no homoerotic blade to throat interaction for you, sir!!

i do think little and fitzjames would work well together! they did a good job on coordinating the carnivale and fitzjames is not someone who lashes out a lot, which is good bc little does not deal well w getting screamed at

i think blanky would become elemental. w crozier dead and (assuming carnivale still happens) mcdonald gone hes the last brit who speaks inuktitut fluent enough to communicate w silna Plus hes one of the v few remaining high ranking arctic veterans

(what would change in a scenario like this if my good friend and upcoming romance novel love interest graham gore - who was an arctic veteran and even competent and charismatic - was still around? food for thought)

what would hickey do? the object of his obsession is out of the picture so he cant get revenge for getting whipped, he still wants to go to his tropical vacation and i think w crozier dead he would switch to survival mode 3000 (he is always already in survival mode to begin with, but i mean the point at which he switches from playing defense to offense) sooner. if the captains dead theyre fucked for real whats holding him back? hickey voice in fact what is holding anyone back? men, we need to confront the situation!

i really think this might be where thomas "shouldve been a news reporter" jopson would shine. that nosy bitch knows about Everything going on, and in a situation like this where every information must be handled in a v tactical way so as to Manage The Situation i think there would be a great deal of avenues of action open to someone in a position like his. especially, i think, bc to me a great deal, if not to say the entirety of jopsons optimism and endurance and focus is simply build on this vast foundation of trust he has in crozier and w crozier gone, what happens to all of that? there are a few ways this could play out imo

a) he instead reorients himself toward the next Authority Figure, which in this case would probably be Fitzjames. I do think it is unlikely, simply bc due to crozier dying during withdrawal the fences would not yet have mended entirely and jopson Will Hold A Grudge. it wont be little, for previously mentioned reasons, even though i dont think jopson would be able to realise that himself. he does not have a lot of interactions w the other lieutenants up until then (not counting serving dinner etc) and since iirc they had not been called into the Sobriety Meeting i dont quite know about how much he would trust them. so unless sth drastically changes during the walkout the options would be fitzjames or little and i personally vote no on both

b) he would retreat into himself and simply Wait. wait for what? u ask. well :) he would wait. and then, maybe one day he might even React. but for now, he would Wait, and Pay Attention

c) i realize this is quite a shrewder reading of jopson than what dave k has said of how he sees him but as i said earlier to me a lot of jopsons "goodness" hinges on crozier providing him w the trust he needs to unfold these qualities. and w that gone, i think that leaves him as someone v smart, in a position where he has access to a lot of information, and also in a state of absolutely crushed hopes and reopened trauma. and that certainly does put you in a state of mind doesnt it?? atp his trust in the remaining leadership might be v fragile and he would certainly wonder how any of this would go on. so hed either implode and fucking idk. wither. (which, for the record, i think he would Not do) Or! he would decide that alright. no one left to handle this but himself so time to take matters into his own hands! youve shot smaller hawks than this tommy its time to get out of here! which, again, is where i think a possible hickey alliance, maybe via billy, might take place. if jopson and hickey would team up for a mutiny they would definitely constantly be daydreaming of killing each other <3 not to be me but i would read the fuck out of a hickeyjopson mutiny vs a solittefitz alliance. give me intrigue! give me bastardry! give me some fucking losers dishing it out in the canadian arctic over the worlds worst buffet options!

this is not necessarily a full point on its own but more of an addendum: i genuinely think jopson has it in him to pull a dundy. aka i think he v much does strike me as someone who would stage a quiet not so much mutiny but a quiet usurpation of power through simple calculated ruthlessness. which! speaking of usurpation!

option d) jopson decides that hes the only competent bitch left and the only way to ensure everyones survival is to go full grima wormtongue and become the puppet master advisor to littles captain. little would actually let this happen and might even welcome it. we know this guy is genetically engineered to follow orders. dont say i never did anything for joplittle enjoyers!!!

crozier dies during the walkout at any point:

i dont really have anything big for this. it would be bad but depending on what has happened at that point (how scurvy ridden is fitzjames? is jopson a lieutenant yet? has hickey killed irving already?) it might not change too much tbh

if he gets shot during morfins suicide it would be disastrous i think but it might actually make the men come closer together again maybe? if little becomes captain then and there maybe the mutiny might get prevented or at least postponed bc little would let the marines get their armed patrol and thus they might not be as resentful/mistrusting toward command. ofc little As A Captain trusting tozer and getting fucking bamboozled by him if the mutiny still happened would be an even worse look lmfao. that is if morfin shot him. if it was however a Marine who shot crozier…… well. i think thered be an execution first thing at daybreak! and any and all weapons would be under lock and key w extra attention to the point that i think not even armitage would hand them out. plus lbr it wouldve been tozer in this scenario w the killing shot so! armitage without tozer…. does that poor lad even know how to exist when he is not in sols orbit. how would hickey exploit this….. (also extremely evil version is jopson shooting crozier which is so evil that we do not consider it. goodbye)

if crozier dies pre tuunbaq attack id be curious if the (attempted) hanging would still happen. i personally think it would, simply bc hickey would definitely try to start some shit and fitzjames would be wary enough to order a post mortem on irving plus jopson would definitely catch that rat. maybe he would actually hang, even, but that depends on whether little as his captain or fitzjames as the overall expedition commander would give the little speech beforehand. if it's fitzy, either him or hickey in his response would run out of time before the tuunbaq shows up and hickey would escape, but if it's little theres a real chance he would shortly state some dry facts let hickey speak for two sentences of last words maximum and then get it over with. and now That would be a fascinating scenario to explore. crozier gone, hickey gone, camp in ruins, dozens of men dead, fitzscurvy left in charge. would there be a second mutiny? des voeux, perhaps? or billy himself (he was also an architect of this!!! he went to burn the fucking maps!!! billy was not regular rat who marrydivorcemarried the evil rat he was evil rat no2!!! simply a less flashy (fleshy….. hah) flavour!!!) just quietly absconding w a bunch of men into the fog? what would tozer do, if he had survived and hickey hadn't?

last minute death scenarios

anything w crozier dead before hickey could capture him would not change much i think. maybe hickey would deflate some upon the news but hed still capture goodsir and still die as a wannabe new god. i think the real tragedy would be if little was left as the only captain after fitzjames' death. that man was Not made to carry such a burden and dundy would smell the blood in the water and ursurp him early i think, which ironically might lead to a scenario where there could be a sliver of hope for survival for the healthier parts of the crew

if crozier died during the capture bc hartnell didnt take the bullet hickey would fucking kill whoever fired that shot (i do not remember who it was. golding? was it golding? i fucking hate that guy i can easily belive it was golding) and i think hartnell and little and whoever else was there would either escalate the situation into a shootout to avoid the mutineers taking croziers body for food (lbr hickey would love to eat that old man) and die right then right there or maybe get themselves captured bc everything is just pointless now (unlikely outcome imo the tension would be too high) OR theyd somehow get the fuck out of there, organize a party of men to take the mutineers and have a final showdown (unless dundy intervened and ursurped ofc) which means: tuunbaq survives!!! yay :D good ending for silna :) she has not lost the tuunbaq so maybe even no exile <33

if crozier just died during the final tuunbaq fight: no changes at all

which concludes my thoughts! this turned out way longer than i expected and honestly did not focus on little v much but it was super interesting to consider all these scenarios so thank u burrowingregg for giving me the idea to begin with :) i would also be super curious to hear everyone elses thoughts on this so please do chime in!!

[mephistopheleswasrobbed]

My two cents on the Ossan's Love Thailand pilot trailer

Disclaimer: 1) I have watched the original Ossan's Love (S1, LoD, Returns; AU Season and specials are on my list) and liked it a lot. 2) I am an EarthMix fan so I might be slightly biased.

Overall my reaction to the pilot trailer was one of relief. While I definitely noticed some areas for improvement, all in all I am now more hopeful than ever that GMMTV will do this justice.

What I really liked: - Krit Shahkrit seems like a very solid choice for the Boss. I have not previously seen him in anything but what we saw of him in the trailer has me sold. He is younger than he could have been, they are playing it a little safe here possibly, but the age difference is still big/noticable enough that I don't mind at all. - The choice to make Mo a long-time friend of Heng instead of a recent new colleague feels appropriate. Mo moving in with Heng after barely knowing each other might have not worked in a Thai context. (Also EM chemistry is too strong to sell them previously not knowing each other without the excuse of love at first sight they had in ATOTS and MLC) - They actually let Earth be funny in a BL! - On a more serious note, most of the comedic moments landed right on point for me. (The scene where Heng tries to hold Mo back by his collar as he runs away is what fully cemented it for me that this will work) Earth is a great (but severely underutilised) comedic actor and Earth and Mix as a duo have great comedic chemistry. - Earth being the younger one in a potential romantic relationship is a breath of fresh air. He's got good chemistry with P'Krit. I don't think this will actually happen (GMMTV will prob play it safe) but I could see them going for more of an actual conflict in regards to whom Heng will fall for unlike the original where it was pretty clear from the beginning that Haruta had only platonic feelings for Kurosawa. - Earth is doing great with the awkward moments. He is clearly not an actor who is afraid of being the idiot and that's very important for this character.

What I think needs to be imroved: - They need to decide how much they want Earth to imitate Tanaka Kei's style of physical comedy and then stick with it throughout. This felt a little inconsistent to me in the pilot trailer. - Mix needs to get a little more confident when facing off agains P'Krit. His performance felt the weakest in these scenes and I'm pretty sure that's because he wasn't yet completely comfortable getting in this veteran actor's face. I have no doubts that this will get better if Mix gets the chance to practice a little more with P'Krit. (I'm assuming there was not much prep work done before filming the pilot trailer because Mix was quite busy finishing his degree in recent months) Leave the respect for your elders at home, Mix!

Other thoughts: - I hope they move Mo's initial confession back into the shower. Haruta's nakedness really added to the scene in the original and Earth is no stranger to taking his shirt off for the camera so I don't see why they would have to change this. (My hope is that they changed it for the pilot trailer because they didn't want to waste time covering up Earth's tattoo(s), they could potentially seem out of character for Heng) - It seems Choko got replaced with a daughter. That's a shame. I liked her a lot in the original and I felt that she and her relationship with Maro were an important part of the story, especially on the thematic side. I'm willing to see where they go with this, though. - Thor as Ten who I'm assuming is the thai Takegawa is also a bit younger than the original, we didn't see much of him in the pilot trailer so I'm reserving judgement on this decision. - Kapook who, I'm assuming is taking the role of Chizu (though it seems that some of her advisory function might move over to Mo on account of him also being Heng's long-time friend) felt like a perfect fit - Champ has at this point become an EarthMix staple. MLC being the only of their shows he wasn't in. I'm here for it. We haven't seen much of him but I'm sure he can do Teppei justice. - The accidental hand touch while hanging up posters was not convincing. I'm reminded of the slightly awkward hand-interlocking as Jim and Wen stood in front of the soon to close diner. (Am I the only one who notices that every time I see that scene?) - I wonder if they will actually change the wedding scene to have Mo interrupt or if this was done to make the pilot trailer more concise. It would be a shame to loose this classic example of a JBL run. (They did the run in CMT, they should do it in OL!) - If I remember correctly the forhead kiss was in the original as well, but it also works as a cute call back to the atots airport scene.

TL;DR: Earth can do comedy, I'm glad he gets to finally show this in a BL. EM chemistry is chemistrying as usual, this time with more crack energy. Issues I had were probably mostly caused by limited prep time and limited shooting time for the pilot trailer. I think it's gonna be good and that makes me happy.

[blarefordaglare]

Day 19 ALT - Last words

Fairy au shenanigans

Or Legend has to take care of wild on his deathbed because I want to give legend angst but he needs to suffer a bit more before I kill him off

(NOT CANON IN FAIRY AU, BUT TAKES PLACE IN IT)

…

Legend ran.

Despite the champions protests, he grabbed his hand until his rings stabbed into the skin, and simply ran across the field. If he spends another second in that giant machine’s sight, he would get burned. Both heroes would meet their demise if they even thought about getting a hit on that machine. Even if they could fly in this situation, the rain would push them back onto the ground immediately.

“Champ,” He gasped, trying to catch his breath with little time they had, “Got a place to go?” Legend hated teleporting, but as much as he wouldn’t like to have a pounding headache, did he really have a choice? Wild simply nodded and handed him his slate. 

It took a few seconds to figure out, but eventually Legend just clicked one of the blue icons. The veteran held on to the champion tightly as they faded into blue light. 

Of course Legend had to click the Shrine of Resurrection. While this… thing may have saved Wild’s life, it was far from pleasing to remember. “I’m sorry champ,” The words rolled off his tongue unnaturally -he never was one to apologize- “But this is safe, isn’t it?” 

Legend could feel his heart crack a little as the champion’s face crumpled. Fat tears poured down his cheeks as he gazed at the Shrine in front of him. Despite this, he still held on to the veteran’s hand and let him drag his body inside. He tried to ignore how hot Wild’s skin was, despite the obvious shivering. 

“Legend?” The boy slurred as the two finally dropped down on the cold metal ground, the fairy’s wings were pulsing dully as the boy looked up. His face was pale and his eyes looked empty, as if he was gazing at nothing. 

“Yes?”

“‘M cold.” The words came out more of a sigh than a statement. Legend’s hands were still wrapped around the scarred hands of the one he learned to call ‘family’. The hero hesitated, could he save him, or would Hylia just let the champion fall into a forever rest?

“Come here,” Legend’s wings gave off a soft welcoming glow as he opened his arms, in which Wild quickly accepted the offer, melting into his embrace. 

“I love you,” he whispered, closing as the veteran simply stroked his hair, whispering a soft prayer. As much as Legend hated Hylia, she better take good care of his brother.

…

The Hero of the Wild didn’t make it to morning.

[leclerced]

in MY opinion they somewhere like natural. like bunny is just so sweet and innocent and crowds aren’t really for her so in my head it was like in a grocery story or something or lando sought HER out.

pls thats so cute and like we’ve talked ab her being an f1 fan and looking up to seb like he’s her fav so lando approaching in a grocery store. what if its like right after his rookie season ?? end of 2019 i think.

she’s looking at grapes so intensely trying to decide between purple and cotton candy ones and suddenly someone’s clearing their throat and she’s apologizing for being in the way before she even looks up. then he’s saying “no, no need to apologize, actually i’m sorry to be weird but ur like super pretty and i’ll regret it for the rest of my life if i don’t ask, so can i get your number?” she looks up from where she’s moving her shopping cart and immediately recognizes him and is like. star struck but he sees the shock on her face and regrets coming on so hard and is like “okay so sorry will definitely not ask a girl for her number in a grocery store ever again sorry to bother you!” and starts walking away.

shes immediately stuttering “no! i’m sorry i just- you- you’re like- i’m sorry i just- you’re lando norris??” and he’d freeze up bc ! pretty girl knows who he is?? she froze bc she knows who she is?? he’d immediately get so confident like this is my moment theres no way i can mess this up! so he’s like “yeah, you a fan?” and she’s like “i mean, yeah, of course. i mean seb’s my favorite but you did incredible this year!” and he’d kinda deflate bc like obv he wouldn’t be her favorite its his first year so it makes sense her fav driver is a veteran world champ he could never compete with. he’d get her number and she wouldn’t get why he wants to see her constantly like as soon as he gets home he’s asking if she wants to hang out. idk what they’d do but after the first hang out she’d get home and check her phone to find a text asking him when he can see her again, even funnier if he picked her up and dropped her off bc like she gets out of his car and he immediately texts her 😭

he’d be so down bad but not wanna spook her bc he can tell she’s like sweet and innocent. just a vibe he gets from her, the way she blushes and stutters any time he flirts w her so he wouldn’t put the moves down very hard. she’s never rly gotten attention like that or didn’t notice it when guys flirted w her. she’s just oblivious to how pretty everyone thinks she is and is like well ppl are just nice! thinks that everyone out there is doted on by complete strangers like ppl are always holding doors open for her, baristas never let her pay for her coffee, she gets complimentary desserts from waiters like they just bring her a slice of pie or cake they think she’ll like and she’s like but i didn’t order this?? and lando’s the same way. he would see smth that reminds him of her and buy it without thinking to gift to her the next time he sees her. she’s confused, can’t tell if he’s flirting with her when he tells her he likes her shoes or her dress. all her friends are like “he wants to jump ur bones!” but she just doesn’t believe them bc shes baby! and then she’s over at his place one night and he kisses her for the first time while she’s mid sentence and he’d apologize and say smth cheesy like “sorry u just look so kissable rn” and she wants to beg him to do it again but her brain is short circuiting and she doesn’t know the words to ask.

[blowflyfag]

WRESTLING ALL STARS: Heroes and Villains : February 1993 

Ready for something really scary, boys and girls? CACTUS JACK’S A MANAGER! 

By GEORGE NAPOLITANO

The wild, weird and wacky Cactus Jack has taken up a new career. He’s now a manager in the WCW. Cactus is managing the affairs of the unpredictable Barbarian and the one-time “Mr. USA” Tony Atlas. It wasn’t that many years ago that people said Cactus Jack was unmanageable! How can a man known for his unpredictable and bizarre behavior come to manage two veterans like the Barbarian and Tony Atlas?

[Cactus says, “People say I’m nuts–but I know exactly what I’m gonna do every time I enter the wrestling arena!”]

It defies logic but it’s true. Several months ago after suffering a severe groin pull, Cactus Jack approached the Barbarian about helping his career. The Barbarian surprisingly agreed and the two have been together ever since.  Cactus confided in the Barbarian that he knew how to make him a champion. Cactus Jack has been putting the Barbarian through a very rigorous training regime. The training may be unorthodox by normal standards but why would anyone think that Cactus Jack would stoop to orthodox tactics for his stable of contenders?

“No one gives me any credit at all,” Cactus moaned after putting his proteges through another strenuous routine. “I know exactly what I am going to do every time I climb through the ropes. My job is to win in any way I can and I will use anything I can to get the job done. If it means using a chair, the ring posts, the guard rails or the stairs to beat my opponent, I will use it. People say I’m unorthodox. People say I’m nuts. Some say I’m crazy–but tell me what’s wrong with using stairs if they’re there? It doesn’t matter how you win just as long as you win and the Barbarian understands this now. He’s a man after my own heart. He’s tough, strong, powerful and a little crazy too. That’s what makes him so good. Besides the Barbarian, I now have Tony Atlas in my stable too, and my new killer is the same way. He used to be soft but my good friend Tony Rumble taught him a better way. Now he’s ready to be champion in the WCW. With the Barbarian and Atlas I’ve got the next champions in my corner.”

[While wrestling for UWS a few years back, Cactus was managed by wrestling legend Maniac John Tolos.

While the Barbarian looks on, Cactus explains to WCW announcer Jim Ross just how he and the big guy are going to conquer the world!]

It’s still hard to fathom how Cactus Jack–never a champ himself–can instill enough knowledge into his men to make them champions. Although this may seem impossible in theory, there are many other managers who fall into this category. The renowned Captain Lou Albano never won a title; neither did Bobby “The Brain” Heenan. Paul E. Dangerously, Jim Cornette and Jimmy Hart never even donned a pair of tights! Using this as a barometer, Cactus Jack then certainly has the credentials to be a manager! If Cactus is even half as successful as these other great managers, the Barbarian and Tony Atlas could be championship bound.

[The maniac’s table of wrestlers is already impressive. Cactus has taken The Barbarian and Tony Atlas beneath his dement wing!

A horribly bloodied Cactus Jack screams at the crowd following a match in the Orient.]

Whether the Barbarian and Tony Atlas can achieve championship status remains to be seen, but Cactus certainly has them believing in themselves. With their new positive energy, their strength, agility and skill and unpredictable behavior of Cactus Jack at Ringside, the Barbarian and Tony Atlas could be championship bound.

[Here’s how the Barbarian looked back in the days when he was one half of the WWF tag team known as The Powers of Pain.

Cactus Jack may seem like a complete lunatic in the ring, but insiders say he isn’t as crazy as he acts. Yes, there's a method in his madness!

Cactus Jack’s new main man is Tony Atlas, shown here working over Greg “The Hammer” Valentine.]

Don’t laugh, stranger things have happened in the crazy world of professional wrestling!

[kikker-oma]

Wild gets Snapchat….

THE SEQUAL.

this started out as a crack fic but the end I had to put some family dynamic because I got distracted lol and then went back to crack because I got lazy

warning: Lu sunset spoiler but very very minor

feturing:

Parental time

Legend being somewhat wise but not rlly

Wild having TikTok (this may be unrealistic because I don’t have TikTok)

blare being traumatized with gen A slang I never wanna read that article again.

_______

Well, Snapchat was a bust. Being honest, Wild forgot about it for a while. Yet, along with another boring night comes some less boring opportunities. Of course, this time around Wild knew if he wanted to get something cool, he would have to be more convincing about it.

“Time.” He whispered

The old man slept

“TIME.”

“What now?”

Wild took a breath, this time he thought, this time. “I found this application, called… TikTok, and you can film battle techniques on it.” He saw the look of skepticism in the man’s eyes, so he had to make something up quick, “I saw the shadow using it.”

well that’s one way to get someone’s attention.

Time looked at him, with a slight glimpse of humor in his eyes. Let the kid live a little, he’s still young. he rolled his eyes as he grabbed the slate, let him learn on his own terms.

password verified, LinkLonLonMalonIs@mazing89

“Alright. If you say so champ.”

…

The first week things were acting a bit odd.

“Wild, hey that sword wasn’t finished yet!” Four yelled, he THOUGHT the first time would teach him a lesson, “And you just took it and broke it!”

Wild grinned, looking up from his slate, “Fanum tax.”

Four looked confused (that’s a first), “What?”

“you just got ratio’d.”

That wasn’t the only odd encounter, no, there was many other ones.

Wind looked up at the others, absolutely horrified, “What do you mean I would cheat at poker?! I would never!”

“You’re capping.”

Wind glared, “No I am not!”

“what does capping mean?”

The two hesitated, “Nothing, nothing.”

.

“Wow, Wars you got drip!” The champion explained in awe.”

“Gee, no need to be rude, I just washed my hair.” The captain rolled his eyes, pushing his brother aside.

“What?” Wild explained, “I said you had drip!”

.

Legend didn’t like what was going on. Legend didn’t like the sleepless nights, with the faint screen glow filling the forests. Legend didn’t like the one pot pasta recipes instead of the old meals that were created with love and care. Legend didn’t like the unrecognizable vocabulary that plagued every conversation with the champion.

He just wanted his brother back.

“Wild,” the veteran whispered in the dead of night, trying to pull away the screen glued to the champion’s face, “Wanna try something new.”

“Bro thought he ate-“ Wild paused, “Wait what? Yes please-“ The champion paused as he felt the tug of the slate.

“Without the slate,” Legend cringed at his rough tone, “Please.”

The footsteps were soft as they arrived at a clearing.

“This…” Legend pointed to the greenery beneath him and Wild’s feet, “is grass. Now TOUCH IT.”

“NOOOOooOoOo”

“PUCKER UP BESTIE!” The veteran laughed as he smushed the champion’s face into the soft green grass.

wild touched grass. And now TikTok is deleted because he touched grass.

"PUCKER UP BESTIE"🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 BLARE you ATE with that line hahahaha 😉😉

Legend is really saving Wild from himself here... And the rest of the chain by extension lol

Times password is fantastic as well hahaha

[reasoningdaily]

Futureland - Walter Mosley

Futureland - Walter Mosley

Projecting a near-future United States in which justice is blind in at least one eye and the ranks of the disenchanted have swollen to dangerous levels, Mosely offers nine interconnected stories whose characters appear and reappear in each others' lives. For all its denizens, from technocrats to terrorists, celebs to crooks, "Futureland" is an all-American nightmare just waiting to happen.

Nine interconnected short stories capture the high-tech world of the United States in the near future, capturing the lives and fates of such characters as Ptolemy Bent, a child genius whose merciful actions land him in a privatized prison, and Fera Jones, a heavyweight boxing champ who abandons the ring for a political career. 75,000 first printing.

Editorial Reviews

Amazon.com Review

Futureland is bestselling mystery author Walter Mosley's first science fiction book since Blue Light, a New York Times Notable Book of the Year. Futureland's nine linked stories will provide an accessible and intelligent introduction to written science fiction for mystery or mainstream fiction fans who do not normally read the genre.

Experienced science fiction readers, however, may be less than satisfied with Futureland. Reading it, you might decide Mr. Mosley grew up reading SF, respects the genre, and still watches SF movies, but has read little SF written during or after the New Wave of the 1960s. However, something more may be going on here than a genre newcomer making beginning-SF-writer mistakes. Mr. Mosley may be deliberately, and craftily, creating SF accessible to his large non-SF readership and to others who are strangers to this genre.

Some have labeled Futureland cyberpunk, and it does present a dark, infotech-saturated, corporation-controlled future; but it is in fact an inversion of cyberpunk. Instead of that subgenre's cliche of cool, cutting-edge, street-smart, but not very believable outlaws who out-hack and outwit powerful multinational corporations, this Dante-esque collection presents outlaws and outcasts who may be street-wise, but who have little chance of overcoming the corporations and governments that control, and sometimes take, their lives. Like shockingly few other SF works, Futureland directly examines the lives of the working and the nonworking classes, the poor and the marginalized, the criminal and the criminalized. In other words, Futureland is set in a world quite alien to many veteran SF readers, and is therefore a book they should try. --Cynthia Ward

From Publishers Weekly

After the qualified success of his first science fiction novel, Blue Light (1998), Mosley (best known for such mystery fiction as the Easy Rawlins series) returns with nine linked short stories set in a grim, cyberpunkish near-future. Unfortunately, heavy-handed plotting and unconvincing extrapolation weaken the collection's earnest social message. "Whispers in the Dark" introduces prodigy Ptolemy Bent, who will grow to be the smartest man in the world in spite of his poverty-ridden childhood. Ptolemy reappears in "Doctor Kismet" as an adviser to assassins trying to kill the richest, most corrupt man in the world and as the brains behind a series of global plots to overthrow the status quo in "En Masse" and "The Nig in Me." Champion boxer and much-hyped female role model Fera Jones steps away from the ring to take hands-on responsibility for the influence she wields in "The Greatest." With its easily befuddled talking computer justice system, "Little Brother" is more Star Trek than high-tech cyberpunk. In more familiar territory for Mosley, PI Folio Johnson investigates a series of murders linked to Doctor Kismet in "The Electric Eye." Although packaged as SF, this book is likely to disappoint readers of that genre who've already seen Mosley's themes of racial and economic rebellion more convincingly handled by authors like Octavia Butler. Mystery fans, on the other hand, are far more likely to embrace this latest example of Mosley's SF vision, with its comfortably familiar noirish tone and characters, than they did Blue Light. (Nov. 12)Forecast: With a five-city author tour and national print advertising, both mainstream and genre, this title book should be slated for solid sales.

Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information, Inc.

From Library Journal

Mosley's first foray into writing science fiction since Blue Light (LJ 10/1/98), these interrelated stories, set in the near future, read as a natural but chilling extension of our present. From child genius Ptolemy Bent, sentenced to prison for euthanizing his grandmother and uncle, to female boxer Fera, who becomes a feminist icon for the 21st century, his characters battle for both personal survival and a chance to turn back the clock. In this futuristic world, privacy is little but a memory and prejudice and suspicion still sour race relations. Mosley's reputation as the best-selling author of the Easy Rawlins mysteries may entice a number of his regular readers to pick up this book, where they will find some of the same bleak outlook, flashes of insight, and true-to-life African American characters. An additional audience will come from iPublish.com, where the first two stories were previously published as e-books. Recommended for all public libraries. - Rachel Singer Gordon, Franklin Park P.L., IL Copyright 2001 Reed Business Information, Inc.

From Booklist

Mystery star Mosley tries his hand at science fiction again, to better effect than in the novel Blue Light (1998). For these nine interconnected stories, he conjures a mid-twenty-first-century world in which one company is the most powerful force in the world and political correctness is the law. The only significant revolutionaries are black, and blacks and whites are still highly antagonistic. All Mosley's good guys are black, including the smartest man in the world, imprisoned for assisting the deaths of his ailing grandmother and uncle; the world's heavyweight boxing champ--a six-foot-nine-inch woman who goes into politics after KO'ing the male heavyweight champ in less than a minute of round one; a private dick who solves cases with the help of a greatly enhanced artificial eye; and a regular-joe worker who becomes the reader's eyewitness to the dawn of a new world when a backfiring biological weapon kills everyone who isn't at least 12.5 percent black. Lest that last bit of business seem too black-triumphalist, the worker-hero quickly discovers that intraspecies predation hasn't vanished. Ably slinging the technobabble to explain the odd wonder-gadget in his tales, and greasing them with plenty of "oh-baby" sex, Mosley creates sf in which Shaft and Superfly would feel at home. Can ya dig it? Ray Olson Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

About the Author

Walter Mosley is the author of the New York Times bestselling Easy Rawlins novels. He lives in New York City.

[peppermintquartz]

Because I know pro wrestling to a small degree...

AU time!

--

The promotion is run by Bobby Nash and Athena Grant. They used to be wrestlers themselves but now they just wanna help uplift indie wrestlers. They have lots of independent wrestlers who want to come and work with them.

Hen is their women's champ and her longtime rival was "Rocket" Karen. Storied rivalry, with vicious promos and even more vicious fights. They're equally matched in championship reigns too. So when Hen came out with Karen as her wife, it was a huge deal and gave them lots of coverage. Karen soon retires from wrestling to pursue her rocket scientist career and take care of the kids, but she always gets a huge reaction whenever she shows up for Hen on pay per views.

"Chimney" Howard Han first trained in Japan and is beloved by fans. His manager-girlfriend of that time "betrayed" him (didn't wanna leave Japan) and after that, his long-time partner and best friend Kevin Lee suffered a career-ending injury, so now Kevin works commentary in a larger promotion. So Chimney now works solo, and is a veteran cruiserweight. He does the circuits of different promotions, and whenever he's where Kevin is, the fans lap up any interaction they share. One iconic moment is when Kevin reached under the announcer table to take out a barbed wire bat, handed it to Chimney, and never stopped his commentary throughout as Chimney rained hell on Doug.

Maddie and Buck join the promotion at the same time. Maddie does backstage interviews (she's actually in the PR department) and no one misses how she and Chimney have really intense chemistry. Buck makes fun of it a few times too in his promos but cried the most when his sis and Chimney had their wedding

Buck and Eddie started as singles competitors but they never really sparked a connection with the fans until they fell into a tag team. Then suddenly they're insanely popular, Eddie's snark matching perfectly with Buck's sunshiny persona especially on interviews and promos. Think "Someone is going to die... of fun!" kinds of iconic.

In the ring, Eddie's the athletic technician, Buck is the one with the power moves. One local show, some arrogant rookie decides to mock Christopher's disability in his in-ring promo without clearing it with Eddie and Buck prior, and Christopher is present. Rookie nearly gets beaten to death for real by both of them. Buck and Eddie get fined and suspended, but the message has been sent: Christopher is off-limits. When they return to in-ring action, they're welcomed as heroes.

Tommy used to be with Bobby's promotion, but he's been in a bigger promotion for a bit teaming with Sal. After the strain of traveling almost 300 days of the year, he wants to take it easy for a bit, and when he comes back, he gets wildly extreme reactions (some say he sold out back when, some are just elated that he's back). He starts again as a singles competitor, works his way through the midcard, wins a challenge to take on the champ. It's all scripted but the older Tommy has the look and the attitude to be one of the faces of the promo. He takes on the Hurricane (top dog in the promotion) and wins, and when Buck congratulates him backstage, Tommy (kinda high from the fan reaction and the win and the trust the promotion is putting in him) kisses Buck. Buck is stunned. But then he just. Kisses. Back.

Eddie is like. Is my tag partner gonna leave me? (Turns out no, Buck will only partner with Eddie, Tommy's working his own storylines as singles competitor.)

Tommy and Buck come out as gay and bi after, Eddie is the token straight man, but in a few house shows' where they are a three men team, they play doing kiss-tag, where they kiss instead of tapping hands, and there's always the loud roar of approval whenever Tommy kisses Buck (because they go full tongue since they can) and whenever it's Buck and Eddie, or Eddie and Tommy, they play like they're embarrassed or shy, but they always plant at least one big fat smack.

[anotherwvba]

Punchline pt. 3

The backstage corridor at the Laughing Skull Lounge was narrow and dimly lit, but Jazzy Jamboree led Gabby Jay through like a seasoned veteran.

“Mon ami, you come through here often?” Gabby asked as Jazzy guided him around an equipment chest.

Jazzy chuckled, “You know I dig the spotlight, Gabs. I might have been on that stage a time or two.”

Gabby laughed back, “That explains how you were able to talk the manager into letting this slide with a plug to the live crowd on the next few fight cards.”

“All about who you know, my brother.” Jazzy came to a halt in front of the dressing room door. An assortment of shouts and crashes came from behind the closed door. “Man, sounds like they on round two in there.”

Gabby took position by the door, “Mon Dieu, may this not be a complete disaster.”

“Amen to that. Open her up, Gabs.” Jazzy stepped aside to let Gabby lead the way.

As Gabby opened the door, a hamburger slider came whizzing at his face. The old fighter’s instincts were still there as he narrowly dodged the edible projectile, but it found a home squarely in the middle of Jazzy’s face. From inside, curses and threats filled the air.

“What in the world…” Gabby stared blankly into the utter mayhem that was the dressing room as Jazzy cleaned his face off with a handkerchief.

“Pozwól mi odejść!” Jon Adamski, the comedian that had been pummeling a heckler earlier, now had Disco Kid on top of him trying to hold him down on a couch. “Fight like a man, coward!” Jon screamed as he was furiously reaching for food from the catering table behind the couch.

Disco, struggling with a man half his size, pinned Jon’s wrists to the back of the couch. “Settle down, man! You wanna fight, we’ll do it in the ring. But we here to talk, so just chill.”

Bald Bull was standing by the door with his arms stoically crossed. Behind him on the wall was an assortment of splattered foodstuffs, but Bull was untouched. Clearly, his bobbing and weaving skills were not to be underestimated. He glanced at Gabby with an air of slight annoyance, “Found him. He’s little upset.”

Jazzy, wiping what was left of the ketchup from the slider off his face, “Boy, you lucky that didn’t hit my suit.”

Jon surged forward in a fury, trying to break away from Disco, “Przynieś to, ty skurwielu!”

“Oh, hell no!” Jazzy lunged forward only to be intercepted by both Bull and Gabby. “You gonna talk that good shit? We can go! I wasn’t always an announcer, punk!”

In the midst of the scuffle, Jon got a hand free and hurled a piece of cake toward Jazzy… only for it to splatter against the back of Bald Bull’s head.

Bull straightened and the room went silent and still, all but Jon’s yelling that is. Never turning to face the projectile’s place of origin, Bull looked sideways at Gabby and held his gaze for a tense moment. “I get this one’s first match.”

As Disco continued his efforts to restrain the volatile comedian, Jon yelled, “You want me, starzec? You can’t sneak up on me now! You. Me. Parking lot! Now!”

Gabby, seeing the Turkish man’s expression, “Oui, that can be arranged. For now, please see that we aren’t interrupted.”

Bull moved to leave and Jazzy patted him on the back, “I’ll join you, Champ. The vibe’s getting too serious in here for my taste.”

Once Bull and Jazzy had left and the door closed, Gabby turned his attention to Jon. "Do you know who I am?" he asked in a firm tone.

Jon, still struggling under Disco, nodded. "Tak, you're Gabby Jay. That old loser that retired and started scouting talent."

“Close enough.” Gabby’s gaze was as sharp and intense as Disco had ever seen. “Let him go.”

Disco started to ask if Gabby was sure, but the Frenchman’s look shut him down. Disco got up and Jon bolted toward the door. Then, suddenly, Jon was on the floor holding his cheek. That cheek had the broad and quickly reddening handprint of an old loser on it.

“Jak śmiesz?!” Jon muttered as he rubbed his stinging cheek, now seated on the floor.

“Now, jeune homme,” Gabby straightened his sports coat and took a seat on the floor across from Jon, “may we converse like civilized men?”

Jazzy Jamboree is an OC belonging to @sukipershipper and is used with permission.

Jon Adamski is an OC belonging to @punchout-ispunched and is used with permission.