#and if you prove you can match or exceed that strength

[trappedinafantasy37]

If you can't handle Minthara at her 😠 you don't deserve Minthara at her 🥺

[roadandruingame]

RaR Musings #7: Meaningful Mechanics

I saw a post this week about other people in the ttrpg design space, lamenting their years of work, and being dismissed for their project seeming like "a dnd clone". A fair concern, to be sure, but it would turn out the criticism stemmed from having a fantasy themed roleplaying game, that uses a d20 and adds proficiency, has character creation that involves classes, and spellcasting with multiple levels of spells. Others suggested there might be similarities if you use the standard stats, like STR, DEX, and INT.

So what's a guy with a fantasy themed roleplaying game that uses Xd10, adding proficiency, has a character creation engine that has classes as a minor element, and spellcasting with a mana system allowing you to cast spells at a higher level, using some basic stats, to do?

Firstly: not worry about it. Creativity is iterative, and DND has been the fantasy roleplay standard for nigh on 50 years, having affected pop culture and videogame design alike. It'd be hard NOT to have anything similar to it, and for those who have no experience outside of DND, dipping a toe outside that space can seem daring and adventurous. The writer is probably upset because they don't understand how generally meaningless their reinventing of the wheel was in terms of convincing people to play their game instead; in fact, there wasn't any mention of WHY he made the effort to design his own game in the first place. Was it distaste for existing products? Because he had vision? Or just to prove that he could do it too, a kind of intellectual parroting?

Game mechanics can't be copywritten, so while it's not illegal to copy mechanics, there needs to be certified thought put into what those mechanics are meant to achieve, and why they may fail to do so.

As an example: both d20 games and Road and Ruin involve rolling dice to generate a random value, and then adding your proficiency as a flat number.

DND falls down here because even high proficiency, like +11 or +13, barely crests over half of the value generated by random d20, much less the more regular +1 to +6. This means a specialist, someone who has lifelong expertise at their craft, can still bungle even a basic action, giving other players a chance to perform, but completely botching the class fantasy of being a specialist, and there's no coded mechanics for varying levels of success or failure to even reward being a specialist beyond increased binary success rate. Multiple overlapping proficiencies don't have cumulative value, and outside of house rules, you can't mix and match Attribute to Proficiency, such as using Strength for Intimidation. However, the system is simplistic, and easy to understand. Not having different values for different proficiencies means only having to refer to a single number as a bonus, which makes stat scaling much more predictable, and as mentioned, giving other players the limelight means the skill monkeys won't hog it.

Road and Ruin HAD a much more 'unique' skill check system; roll your attribute (1-10) as Xd10, and your proficiency (two 0-5 proficiencies combined) determined the minimum score any dice could land. Dice were adjusted, totalled, and the sum divided by 10 to find Success Rate, with scores of 1 or higher expected. This ended up being too much adjusting and adding; it produced the ideal values, but was too slow, and not very fun, especially to do repetitively. Worse, it didn't enable 'skill' to exceed 'raw talent'; you needed a high attribute for the guaranteed 'floor' that proficiency provided to matter, and I wanted those with training to potentially exceed those without training. If INT4 rolls 4d10, and Proficiency 3 meant you couldn't get below a 3 on each, for a 'floor' of 12-40, that still meant an average ~22, regardless of if you were trained or not. Specialization 'rolled' an additional 1d10, but set it aside as an automatic 10, thus improving skill checks beyond what was possible via random dice rolls, raising both floor and ceiling by 10, but not solving the issue of speed or reliability.

So now, Road and Ruin has a Roll + Proficiency system too, except you roll Xd10 (1-5), and Proficiency is two scores (0-5 each), combined, and multiplied by Specialization, with a cheat-sheet of the most common Proficiency results for your character. Adding the dice, and Proficiency, before finding successes, is still slow, but faster now, and due to the multiplication of scores and specialization, your character may even automatically succeed basic tasks, without the need for a roll at all. Such skillmonkeying requires utmost devotion though, and is far better suited to an NPC assistant; but, said NPC will still be built using the same mechanics as what goes into a character, making it easier to understand and appreciate their service.

More importantly: I like it. I understand that others might not; it doesn't have the hallmarks of DND's 'gamble' economy, getting high rolls and confetti when you hit a 20, but frankly, I'm building this game for me, not for people who are satisfied with DND. Even my nine attributes are inspired by World of Darkness, though slightly redefined to suit the needs of my setting instead, and the proficiency skill list is entirely my own, designed to offer as many cases of two overlapping skills as possible. Using any attribute in the skill check, based on what you aim to affect rather than what the proficiency is most known for (using DEX and herbalism to get plant clippings, or INT and herbalism to recall plant facts, for example) is a much more direct and diverse way to handle skill checks, rather than trying to remember whether Nature in DND is Intelligence or Wisdom, and why. Rolling multiple dice instead of 1d20 helps protect against fringe rolls, making the rare cases truly rare, as well as creating a market for spells, equipment, and abilities that affect your skill checks to have meaningful use, rather than simply adding a +1.

But I'm having fun doing all this. Road and Ruin began because I was upset with DND, and over the years, I've done a lot of work, first to intentionally distance it from DND, and only later to begin to paint it in my own colors, doing what I want, not in rebellion of what I don't. Anybody looking to design their own systems should be more preoccupied with how their mechanics feel; if people think that it's too similar to an existing product, one that you intentionally avoided? Then that's tough beans for them. They don't get to define how you have fun, and at the end of the day, that's what playing, and designing, a game is all about.

[myreia]

To Ash and Ember

Rating: M (for canon-typical violence, trauma, and language) Characters: Aureia Malathar (WoL), Lahabrea, Thancred Waters Pairings: Aureria/Thancred (pre-relationship) Words: 2057 Notes: Set during ARR. Spoilers for the end of the base game. Read on AO3

It is impossible to breathe in the scalding heat.

Aureia skids backwards, narrowly avoiding a blast of concentrated magic. She once thought herself so clever, climbing easily through the ranks of the Thaumaturge’s Guild and proving herself as a black mage. Spellwork is as intuitive and natural to her as breathing—she feels the pull of her aether, guiding it, commanding it. She is a master of fire and ice and lightning, calling upon it to bend it to her will. She has slain primals, defeated enemies thought untouchable.

In her hubris, she thought she was untouchable as well.

How sorely she was mistaken.

She twists, searching the battlefield for Lahabrea. Since entrapping her in a circle of flames, the Ascian has proved to be more than her match. The air is thick with ash and smoke, stinging her eyes and searing her lungs. Her mind—usually so clear, so adept at perceiving her surroundings and reacting accordingly—is a haze. She knew she would face him eventually, but nothing could prepare her for confronting him like this.

Not when he is possessing Thancred.   

Lahabrea hunts her across the field, appearing where she least expects, showering her with waves of dark magick. His power slams against her, breaking her focus, giving her very little time to throw her own spells back at him in return.

That she is still standing is a feat in and of itself.

Aureia pauses, a faint crackling echoing in her ears. She spins, staff raised, just in time to see him soar several feet above the battlefield. Her heart pounds, panic rising in her gut. Her ward is almost gone, its power all but sapped. If she can’t raise another…

She has to finish this quickly—and without harming Thancred. But how? The Ascian has shrugged off every attack and every spell, slowly draining her energy and her focus until there is nothing left. She can’t fight forever.   

“You are strong, I will concede,” Lahabrea drawls. “But even your strength is limited, Bringer of Light.”

That voice. How it curdles her blood and fills her with rage. The Ascian speaks in a manner all his own, but beneath it she can hear the remnants of Thancred’s familiar cadence. His voice, his laughter, warped and distorted into something foreign and impossible. Something horrific.

She wets her parched lips and searches his face for some semblance of recognition. Is he in there somewhere, fighting to seize control? Or has his consciousness been suppressed and locked away, all but putting him to sleep? Worst still—is he there, watching their enemy thrash her thoroughly through his own eyes and unable to stop it?

Her fingers tighten about her staff, her nails scratching the wood. “As is yours, Ascian!” she shouts. “Why else haven’t you ended me? If your strength far exceeds my own, surely you could kill me here and now.”

Lahabrea laughs, twisting Thancred’s expression with malice and spite. “Your limitations are no mere matter of raw power. You are weak in mind and spirit, girl, and you cannot hide your shortcomings. Even the lowliest of mages in your Thaumaturge’s Guild have sensed how you restrain yourself.”

She freezes, bile rising in her throat. “I’m not, I haven’t—”

“Then come, adventurer!” he snarls, eyes blazing in the red light of his glyph. “Unleash yourself here and now, if you dare. Yet know that if I should perish, so too will the mortal within whose flesh I reside—”

Aureia screams.

Forgetting all semblance of form and stance, she hurls herself forwards and releases a blast of fire. The flames shoot through the air, propelled on a storm of rage and fury, and collide with the Ascian. He falters, pushed backwards by the force, but recovers quickly. Hanging in the air, Lahabrea throws back his head and laughs—frenzied, cruel laughter. His hands move, fingers gleaming with the workings of a spell.

Too late she realizes her ward is down.

Shit.

The spell strikes her in the chest.

Aureia flies through the air, tossed like a ragdoll, and crumples on the ground. She grunts, pain flaring outwards from the point of impact. Her limbs seize, numb and useless, leaving her immobilized facedown in the scorched earth. Her staff splits and falls from her hand, the lacquered wood cleft in two from the blistering heat. Its orb flickers once, twice—and goes out, its power shattered.

Cinders sear her face, her hair, her mouth. The fire is everywhere now, uncontrolled and all-consuming. Flames wreathe her body, coiling up her back, setting her ablaze. The horrific scent of melted cloth and flesh assaults her senses. For a moment, she doesn’t understand that she is the one burning, that it is her skin that is melting. The impossibility of it leaves her dazed. Fire is her domain: her comfort and her protection, the one bright constant in a life shred to pieces. How could it betray her?

A fresh wave of flames shower across her and the blistering pain overwhelms her all at once. She would scream if she could, but voice fails her. Her throat is scorched. That, too, he has taken from her.

Her friend, her strength, her weapon, her voice. It would have been easy enough for him to kill her outright, but no—it had to be done this way. He’s playing with her, toying with her, torturing her to satisfy some wretched desire she can never understand.

Aureia groans and rolls over, head throbbing, back blistering. She sucks in a deep rasping breath, desperately clinging to her last vestiges of life. Tears leak from her eyes, clouding her vision as she bites down on her tongue to keep from screaming. The pain is intolerable. Suffocating. It hurts to move, it hurts to think, it hurts to exist.

Somewhere high above her, Lahabrea laughs, the crowing sound buzzing in her ears. But even as the Ascian celebrates his triumph, something hums in the back of her mind. A flicker of hope, searching for one last catalyst to set it alight.

Aureia stirs, pressing a hand to the blackened ground. A circle of flame roars around her, the remnants of her own spellwork and Lahabrea’s combined, one strengthening, one weakening. There is truth in what he said. Her strength is limited—and she has all but sabotaged herself.

She is holding herself back out of fear.

For every spell she throws at the Lahabrea’s smug face in anger, there is a part of her siphoning off its strength the moment before impact. Ascian or no, she cannot bring herself to hurt Thancred. The thought of killing him with her own magicks is more than she can bear. But now she must accept that eventuality.

Neither of them are walking out of this alive. Either she ends Lahabrea here and now—and possibly Thancred alongside him—or he kills her. And if the Ascian slays her with Thancred’s own hands… She doesn’t want to think about what that would do to him.

If it’s a choice between her and him, there is no question of what he would want. What he would beg her to do.

Aureia raises her head. A hot wind tears across the battlefield, pulling her hair free from its braid and blowing it about her face. She blinks, clearing her vision, and apprises her foe. There is a second part to this equation. For too long, she has rejected a fundamental part of herself—the power that resides deep within her. Hydaelyn’s gift. She has suppressed it, pushed it away, terrified of what it will mean should she accept it as a fundamental part of herself.

No more.

Mark not the Dark Minion’s subtle words. Only Light may banish the Darkness.

The presence brushes her mind like a gentle embrace.

This time she welcomes it.  

She rises on unsteady feet and turns to face her foe one last time. The remnants of her staff lie on the ground beside her, charred and broken. She takes a step, then another, white ash and glittering embers swirling about her in a cloud. She has no weapon other than herself—and that must be enough.

There is no other choice now.

Lahabrea stares at her, startled out of his victory, mouth twisted with contempt. “How—”

Aureia raises a hand, palm sheathed in blinding light.

“Get the fuck out of him, you bastard.”

The brilliance explodes outwards and engulfs them in endless white.

***

Aureia has no memory of Lahabrea’s defeat. One instant, she is crashing into him with the full force her rage and the power of her blade of light, and the next she is kneeling on the ground, shaking and hazy. The inferno roars, the circle closing in around her, as the stronghold beyond collapses into fiery ruin. She takes little note of the surrounding destruction. There’s only one thing that matters to her now.  

Thancred lies some distance from her face-down on the ground, still and unmoving. Back blistering with pain, she grits her teeth and crawls through the blackened ash to his side.

“Thancred…” His name is little more than a whisper, her throat and mouth too dry for speech.

He doesn’t answer.

She inhales a rasping breath, forcing it through her singed lungs. Blinking away panicked tears, she shoves her hands fruitlessly against his side, but her strength has been all but drained away. She curses her weakness, murmuring his name again and again in a desperate hope he will respond. Finally, after several tries, she rolls him over onto his back.

His head lolls, white hair stained grey with soot. His face is ashen, his eyes closed, his expression frozen in cool serenity.

He isn’t breathing.

“Thancred…”

Aureia clutches desperately at his hands, ignoring the painful red blisters bubbling across her palms. She is usually so certain, so controlled, but now… The uncertainty at what to do terrifies her. She is no healer; she has never had the capacity. Magic has only ever been a tool for war and destruction.

She knows little else.

“Thancred…”

She thought herself prepared for this actuality, but now she is facing it, she cannot accept it. It can’t have been her hand that struck him down. She can’t lose him, not again. Not like this. Not this way.

Not without trying to save him.

Wiping tears from her eyes, she places her trembling hands over his heart and presses down as hard as she can. She mutters the count, anxious not to lose track, giving little care to the ash in the air and the burning ruins around them. When the count is up, she tilts his chin back and presses her mouth to his, gifting her breath to him.

“Come on, Than,” she murmurs. “Breathe, damn it. Come on.”

She presses her hands into his chest again, shoulders shaking as she gasps back her sobs. Another set. Another breath. Again and again. She will do this as long as she has to—even if the whole Praetorium collapses around her—until she is certain there is nothing else she can do.

“Come on…”

Aureia stills, slowed by the pain of her injuries and her crushing fatigue. Knowing she has nothing else left in her, she presses her mouth to his. One last try. It is all she has.

Thancred groans, a faint, stuttering sound rumbling in his throat. She reels back, knuckles pressed to her mouth, and stares at him. He coughs, eyelids fluttering, and cracks his eyes open.

“Aureia…?” he croaks.

She lets out a stuttering, sobbing cry and tears roll down her cheeks, staining her face with smudged makeup and ash. Shoulders shaking, she collapses at his side and rests her head on his chest. He stares at her, a faint, exhausted smile on his face, and raises a hand, weakly threading his fingers through the singed tips of her dark hair.

He is too weak to say anything else.

They lie there for a moment, exhausted and worn, too fatigued to rise to their feet. The surrounding fires burn, explosions from the stronghold’s collapse thundering in their ears. Though the danger remains imminent, for the first time since the raid on the Waking Sands, Aureia knows peace. She has no doubt they will make it out.

He’s alive. That is enough.

[nadieselparts]

Maximizing Engine Performance: The Role of Cummins Parts and Multi Layer Steel Gaskets

Have you ever wondered what lies at the heart of a powerful engine's performance? It’s not just about the machine's design or the fuel it uses; the real heroes are often the components that are seldom talked about. This article delves into the crucial roles played by Cummins Parts and Multi Layer Steel Gaskets in enhancing engine efficiency and reliability.

Understanding Cummins Parts

Cummins Parts are synonymous with quality and resilience in the engine component industry. Cummins Inc., a global power leader, is known for its durable and innovative diesel and natural gas engines. These engines are pivotal in various sectors, including transportation, construction, and agriculture. The secret to their long-lasting performance lies in the meticulous design and manufacturing of each part. Cummins Parts are engineered to offer superior performance under the most demanding conditions, ensuring that they not only meet but often exceed the operational demands of the machinery they power.

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High-quality engine components are essential for the longevity and efficiency of engines. They reduce the need for frequent repairs and replacements, which can be costly and time-consuming. Additionally, they help maintain the engine’s performance at optimum levels, ensuring that it delivers consistent power output without compromising fuel efficiency. The use of premium parts like Cummins Parts is a critical factor in achieving these outcomes.

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Selecting the right components for your engine can make a significant difference in its performance and lifespan. It is crucial to choose parts that are specifically designed and tested for your engine model. Opting for genuine Cummins Parts and reliable Multi Layer Steel Gaskets can prevent a lot of potential problems and ensure that your engine runs smoothly for years to come.

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[asscrackcreed]

Which assassin will legit win in an arm wrestling competition?

TL;DR - this is not an exact ranking, I may change my mind, I might not, I’m still unsure about this, this got so long for no reason

1. Eivor

2. Connor

3. Alexios/Kass

This is a serious discussion!

I WILL FOCUS ON PHYSICAL STRENGTH ONLY

I am also pulling away from the modern au slightly but this is still obviously for my au

Alexios and Kassandra are going to be one because we don’t know much about individual strength

Let’s begin!

Descriptions of strength

Altaïr has canonically never been hit, every time you, as the player, get hit he loses synchronisation. This means that he never had been hit throughout the course of the whole game as losing synchronisation means doing smth that Altaïr hasn’t done (like when Edward goes into an area that’s locked for the memory). Whilst this is more of his manoeuvrability rather than his strength, it’s easy to say that he is still pretty strong compared to the rest. In modern he’d be an active exerciser

Despite losing a whole arm, Malik was still one of the best assassins in the Levantine Brotherhood. We know this because he was a high ranking assassin and even after the incident was able to fight. Like Altaïr, Malik abilities exceed his strength but he definitely is a stronger assassin. Not too active with exercising but does his fair share of it, less on muscles

Ezio, despite his sharp skills, is one of the weaker assassins. Not that he’s completely weak but he uses swiftness and agility more than strength. He has been shot, hurt etc multiple times. I think it’s a bit clear why Ezio isn’t closer to the top. Like Malik doesn’t do so much exercising strength but more stamina etc

Connor is a complete killing machine, fighting dirty, bloody yet quickly is his style. He has a flipping TOMAHAWK like come on. Just the size and shape of him alone can automatically put him in the top 3. He is incredibly strong and ac3 proves it very well. He’s not afraid to fight dirty, I mean he punches his dad in the dick. Connor is so brutal in a match, his hand to hand combat alone proves that, and his dual-wielding skills? He took on a fucking army too! You’d lying if you said he ain’t one of the strongest. weight lifting, circuit training, running, everything bro he’s got it all down

Edward a dirty fighter, he’s definitely stronger than most. He’s not afraid to kick ass and get bloody. This man has been hurt, wounded and punctured like a tire throughout his game but he definitely has strength. He’s near the top too. focus’ more on muscles and less on general exercise (he does run sometimes)

Arno... he’s similar to Ezio, whilst not using his strength he definitely uses agility etc not the best skill to win arm-wrestling though. Does more yoga and running than anything but not too often

Jacob is more similar to Edward but he’s no match for Connor. Jacob might play dirty but Connor is dirtier and stronger by far. Jacob vs Edward would be a good match (Edward would most likely win though). He’s gotten into loads of fights and might occasionally lift some weights

Evie much like Arno stealth is her strongest suit so I don’t see her near the top of the list. sorry I do love her though. Exercises like Ezio and Malik

Bayek is another beast, him vs Connor would be a really tough match. In the game, he fights big threatening things all the time, crocodiles, gods, gladiators. He’s much more efficient at long range too. He’s not as brutal as Connor I’d say. Definitely one of the stronger assassins. Closer to exercising like Edward and maybe Connor

Both Alexios and Kassandra are brutal as fuck, I mean they’re spartan warriors... They definitely have the strength and endurance, a good match for Connor and Bayek. (sorry Edward is losing against them though) Closer to Edward’s heavy weight lifting exercise but maintains some other forms.

Eivor and their dual-wielding axes will definitely shake up the competition. In the game they dismember enemies?! Connor doesn’t go that far in his brutality but I definitely think that this match would be the best to watch. But (ac Valhalla spoilers) Eivor is an isu hybrid and has taken on fights with a knife stabbed in them. They’re also a Viking? Like Connor’s exercising but less strict.

Now let’s narrow this down!

Last few contenders:

Connor, Eivor, Alexios/Kassandra and Bayek

Brutality makes things difficult here, Bayek is the least brutal person out of the 4 so he’s likely to lose. Connor could just about beat the Eagle bearer because he must be a very competitive person and would go all out. Also if this was a challenge told in advance, he’d probably work out more heavily just for it. Eivor is difficult though because they’re the most brutal out of everyone and I can see them being very difficult for Connor to beat. Because we are talking about hand to hand combat (almost) Connor would be between 1 and 2, like he’s fought an army of soldiers and won. He’s repeatedly taken down so many heavily-guarded convoys. Alone! But in modern au, he’s one to exercise a lot and keep his body in shape very seriously. I can see the eagle bearer, eivor and bayek do the same but Connor is the most strict, I’d say. Eivor just happens to be stronger naturally.

Extra: Who beats who? 

[Name - name of people who they beat]

Altaïr - Malik (a very close call though), Ezio, Arno, Jacob(?), Evie

Malik - Ezio, Arno, Evie

Ezio - Arno, Evie, Jacob

Edward - Altaïr, Malik, Ezio, Arno, Jacob, Evie

Arno - ...

Jacob - Malik, Arno

Evie - Jacob, Arno (she is badass af tho she’s strong too)

[tillidontneedfantasy]

‘Romance’ - Camila Cabello REVIEW: Shamelessly In Love

“You know it's been a long time coming,” Camila Cabello sings on the Grammy-nominated smash “Señorita” (which is the most-streamed song of 2019) featuring Shawn Mendes, their follow-up collaboration to “I Know What You Did Last Summer” from 2015. When she sings this line, it’s unclear who the ‘you’ is: Mendes or the audience. Shortly following the release of the track on June 21st, 2019, Cabello and Mendes were seen multiple times out together, displaying affection publicly that would suggest that they are not just friends...because, as she explains, “friends don’t know the way you taste.”

At the release of these stream of photos, many were quick to decide that this must be a stunt as a promotional ploy for the collaboration; but anyone even slightly invested in either one of the pop stars’ lives and music knew that it was, in fact, a long time coming. To any skeptics left, the timeline outlined (yet scattered) throughout Cabello’s second solo studio effort, Romance, should suffice as ample evidence that it’s the real deal, not that she needs to prove it, anyway.

Speaking of that timeline, the main takeaway from Romance’s story is this: men are idiots who don’t realize what they have until they can’t have it anymore. Unrequited love finally turned in favor just too little too late...until it’s not. As two sides of the same coin, “Should’ve Said It” and “Feel It Twice” showcase the two different internal reactions we women go through when someone we wanted for so long doesn’t want us until we’ve moved on with someone else: spite and sorrow. On one hand, she’s dismissive, and on the other, she’s remorseful. In the end, though, this tale has a happy ending, as she seizes the opportunity to finally be with the person she wanted “two years ago” despite the risk. The result? A full, shameless immersion into a world of unapologetic romance. 

STRONGEST TRACK(S): “Bad Kind of Butterflies,” “Living Proof”

Although unlike anything else Cabello has released thus far in her solo career, “Bad Kind of Butterflies” is a compelling and straightforward confessional to her partner that despite her love for him she wants another. “What do I lose if I don't choose and keep it to myself?” she ponders, before ultimately landing upon a decision: “Warning me it’s a mistake, I just know I gotta make it.” Camila deserves some credit here; few people possess this kind of bravery. Many times, people in this situation do keep it to themselves, and then either end up unhappy, live in regret, or make mistakes instead of making an honest choice that will hurt fewer people in the long run. The beautifully haunting production that builds as the song progresses literally gives you the type of bad butterflies she’s describing, as if you’re the one moments away from your possible doom, or maybe an exciting new beginning, or both. Making a choice to follow your heart might trigger an upheaval of your previously planned life-course, but it is never a mistake. Luckily for Cabello, it seemed to work out.

On “Living Proof,” the last pre-release and latest single, Camila indulges in the cliche of linking worship and sex; however, instead of playing as overdone and tired, it just works, mainly due to Cabello’s outstanding vocal arrangement throughout, especially the harmonies in the last chorus. The track is sonically soft and sweet, so hypnotizingly complemented by Cabello’s flawless execution of such a high register; aside from Ariana Grande, no other pop artist can make it seem so effortless. Although the omission of a choir for the bridge and/or outro might be seen by some as a wise choice to balance the cliches, I kind of wish she did it anyway, and her inclusion of one during her wonderful performance on the Ellen Degeneres Show makes a strong case for it too.

WEAKEST TRACK: “This Love”

Perhaps the waltz-like nature of "This Love” is supposed to mirror the dance that Cabello and the subject of this song are playing at, but it fails to do so. When hearing the instrumentals for this track, you are expecting a loving, romantic song. Instead, the listener hears yet again about the games being played by this man and the back and forth between them. The lyrics feel incongruent with the music, and though the track is not bad, it might leave the listener unsatisfied. 

THE IN-BETWEENS

There are plenty of other tracks to satiate the desire for pure romance, as promised. “Easy” and “Used To This” are two gorgeous tracks that perfectly encapsulate what it’s like to allow yourself to be loved when for so long you were unsure if it would ever happen the way you envisioned, making it very easy (no pun intended) to feel happy for Cabello (and Mendes), even so much so that you might find their love endearing enough to temporarily forget that Instagram video (you know the one) (sorry for making you remember it again). Cabello successfully experiments on the sultry “My Oh My” featuring DaBaby, which for some reason is a digital exclusive, and the dramatic and honest “Cry For Me,” which bluntly publicizes a sort of selfishness that most humans have felt but would deny, and gets better with each listen. Other tracks, however, such as “Liar” and “Feel It Twice” tire out quickly. 

BEST PROSPECTIVE SINGLE: “Should’ve Said It”

Cabello sounds most authentic and commanding when she infuses her Latina roots with her pop inclinations. “Should’ve Said It” is effective, unique, and showcases all of Camila’s strengths in a catchy package to which many girls around the globe can easily relate. As Cabello chastises her muse for not knowing what he had until it was gone, you can’t help but vehemently agree while tapping your feet. Can’t you feel it turning into a power anthem already?

                                                            ***

Even in her Fifth Harmony days, Cabello exhibited an unprecedented stage presence. Her first solo album, Camila, proved her star and staying power. There are many ways in which she has leveled up since, as displayed throughout Romance: her vocal range and control are much stronger and cleaner, she has trialed new musical styles that surprisingly suit her, and the production on almost every song is intriguing enough to make you want to listen again. However, the album feels lyrically lackluster; maybe this is because Camila proved to be a great lyricist with her debut, and the quality of writing on this album seems to match its predecessor rather than exceed it. That is not to say that great lyricism implies Shakespearean prose; sometimes, simplicity works just as successfully, if not even more so, as it allows for accessibility. The closing track of Romance, “First Man,” is an example of Cabello’s moving utilization of such simplicity. On an album that can feel repetitive at times considering its subject matter, an ode to the love Cabello shares with her father comes a bit out of left field, a refreshing final pull at the heartstrings. Mentions of jackets for cold weather and making it home safe remind us all that love- whether it is romantic, platonic, or familial- is loudest through the little things. Camila is clearly full of love, and if she continues to build on her ability to tap into it and express it honestly, the sky will be her limit. Grade: 3.5/5

DISCLAIMER - REVIEWER’S BIAS: I never cared for Fifth Harmony much when they were together, so Camila was not really on my radar until she was suddenly on everyone’s with her hit “Havana.” I remember watching her perform it on some awards show and being absolutely blown away by her stage presence. I knew she would be opening for Taylor Swift’s reputation Stadium Tour, and since I of course was attending I decided to listen to Camila shortly after its release, and I was surprised at how much I liked it! Although I enjoy this album very much, I was expecting a bit more from Romance; none of the songs have felt as special as “Consequences” or “Something’s Gotta Give” or “Havana” from her debut, and although I don’t think an artist should ever try to replicate past success or follow formulas that they think might get them there, I feel like that extra punch I was expecting from this album is missing. I still think she did a great job though- I was completely blown away by her vocals and the production, and I am excited to see where her career takes her.

[theflashdriver]

By Land and Sea

When Sonic makes a bet with Amy, it backfires almost immediately. He has come face to face with one of his greatest fears but, at the same time, he isn't one to back down from a challenge. Can he beat Amy at a swimming race or will he flounder? This is the third part of my Sonamy Week catch up! This fic was written for the race prompt! It’s a little over 4.5k words long, I hope you will enjoy!

"This isn't what I agreed to, Ames."

"Oh, it's exactly what you agreed to, my darling." He could hear the delight in her voice; though his eyes were turned from her the blue hedgehog could plainly see the grin on her face. "You promised that if I beat you in a race you'd go on a date with me."

No, he wasn't looking at her; instead, his eyes were fixed upon the racetrack before him. The very racetrack he took issue with. Marked with floating orbs and, no more than 200 metres away, a flagpole that slowly bobbed from side to side. Two lanes of ocean had been isolated, made into a path through the positioning of small orb-shaped buoys. The two met at their ends, a larger central buoy with a blue flag marking the midway point. If the water were land it'd be simple, as fast as Amy was he'd beat her to the marker, around it and back. He'd probably pass her before she got halfway up her lane… well, maybe three quarters. But the sea was a different matter, they were stood on a beach rather than a raceway. Though he avoided water, he'd seen Amy swimming before. She was good and fast, while he might as well have been made from lead. The blue hedgehog needed a life preserver to keep himself above the surface, let alone swim a straight line. No matter how he tried to bolster himself, throwing his eyes to the sky or focusing on that flag, fear and, an emotion he so rarely faced, doubt was plaguing him.

There was a tug at his wrist. Shuddering, he pried his eyes away; allowing them to meet those of Cream. Innocent and full of empathy, she spoke. "I'm afraid that is what you said Mister Sonic. You didn't specify what kind of race, you only said that Miss Amy had to beat you."

"She's got you there, Sonic. You should've been more specific." From his other side he'd heard Tails, the young fox he trusted more than anyone, betray him over the silly technicality. "You kinda brought this upon yourself."

"D-Don't side with them Tails! You know what I meant just like they do! I mean really. When I say race, is your first thought actually…" He shuddered, looking to the lapping waves ahead of them. "…Swimming?"

Amy's didn't hesitate to answer, gleefully posing a question of her own. "Come on Sonic, what would you call this if not a race?"

Many phrases rushed through Sonic's head; a death trap, a nightmare, a one-way ticket to a watery grave, but he settled on, "Lame. Just plain lame." Unable to stomach it, he turned around; eyes closed and chin raised. "It's like challenging Knuckles to chess after he says he can beat anyone in a one on one match, or askin' the Chaotix to solve maths problems rather than mysteries. It's just not what they do, just like I don't swim."

Cream gasped, innocently taken aback. "Oh no, does that mean you're giving up Mister Sonic?"

"Of course not Cream." He'd turned back to the young rabbit, lowering himself to better look her in the eye. "Even if Amy's better at…" Despite having spoken it once already, the word 'swim' felt gross in his mouth. He shook off its vile taste, continuing to reassure the little girl. "Even if Amy's better at this than me, I've got to give it my best shot! No matter how scared you are Cream, you should never back down." It wasn't his best motivational speech, but then he wasn't in the best headspace. He was bolstering himself almost as much as he was trying to send a message.

The young rabbit gave a strong nod, the little chao in her arms matching it. "You're right Mister Sonic! You should always do your best, even when defeat is certain. You might get lucky!" It wasn't quite the glowing affirmation he'd hoped for; even though he knew the rabbit was being genuine, her lack of faith did scuff his pride. Before her wounding could show, she'd turned to face Amy. "Cheese and I will go set things up. Good luck both of you!"

With that, Cream rushed away from the group; what she had left to set up Sonic had no idea. There was a beat of silence, his gut wouldn't let him turn toward the sea and yet he didn't have the strength to face Amy. Thus, he looked to the sky; the sun was shining, the day was windless and only had a few clouds to its name. If this were it a regular race, these would be the perfect conditions.

"Sonic." All of a sudden his imagined visage of Amy was discarded, the anxious way she'd said his name had stripped it all away. "Are you actually scared? You know we don't have to do this if you don't want to"

"Me? Scared?" He snorted, both attempting to reassure her while, simultaneously, puffing himself up. "Yeah right."

"Well, supposing you were, there's nothing to worry about." Unfortunately, his words hadn't been quite enough. She probably wanted him to meet her eye. "The waters are calm today and we shouldn't be at sea any longer than ten minutes. Besides, we're not going too far out."

Finding the strength, he looked to her. Sure enough, there was a glint of concern in her eyes, hands clasped before her. He grinned, shaking his head. "Honestly Ames, I was just putting on a show to make the kids think you stand a chance. Keep things interesting. I'll totally be able to…" The word 'swim' caught on his tongue again, its mere thought made him queasy, but he forced himself through it; maintaining bravado. "Win this race, no sweat."

"Oh really? You're not?" Following his show of confidence, her concern had mostly slipped away, a smile sliding into its place. Amy had leant in, standing on her tiptoes to match his height. "It's cute seeing you flustered for once, Sonic." Perhaps his queasiness wasn't so easily hidden. "Don't worry; I'm sure it'll be an easy lap." There were few cockier than him and so, when it came to smugness, he could recognise it from a mile away. "If anything happens just call me and I'll swim over to save you. I want you in one piece for our date after all."

Attempting to exceed her cockiness, Sonic rose to his own toes and outsized her once more. A winning smirk returned to his lips. "Don't you worry about me Ames, it may be calm now but as soon as I'm out there it's going to get choppy. Maybe duck under when I pass by, the waves are gonna be huge."

"Yes Sonic, I'm terrified of your doggy-paddle." Once again, his endeavour had failed. "Well, as long as I can hear your screaming over the splashing you're in safe hands." Amy lowered herself, turning on her heel, but before she left she looked back to him, a gentler smile on her face. "As much as I want to win, more than that, I hope you have fun; I know you enjoy competition after all. Good luck Sonic!"

"Y-Yeah, good luck Ames!" He ran his finger beneath his nose and, before he could stop himself, called out in reassurance. "Don't worry so much, swimming or running, I like spending time with you." He almost bit through his tongue as she turned around. A pinkness matching her hair had snuck onto her cheeks. "I mean, having you around keep things interesting… you know what I mean?"

Amy's hands clasped, her smile blinding. "Aww, Sonic! Of course, I know what you mean!"

When Miss Rose turned around the spring in her step had more than doubled. He rubbed his forehead. Sonic wasn't sure which parts of that conversation he regretted and, while he was no stranger to making a fool of himself, the knot in his stomach and heat he was feeling were a little too much to handle. He took a deep breath, circling his shoulders, and tried to push out such thoughts. What's done was done, he'd talked a big game so he had to do something… even if winning wasn't in the cards. Just what that something was, he had no idea. Planning was difficult…

"If you're so worried about it why don't you just run off?" Tails question pulled Sonic from his stupor; the little fox had raised a good point. "It's not like you haven't before."

"As stupid of a race as this is, I did kind of promise her, you know?" He ran a hand through his quills, continuing to ignore the heat on his cheeks. "Running off now, it'd just be wrong. Uncool even."

"Wow, I guess this really was smart of her. I didn't realise your word to her meant that much." A glance to Tails proved a fact he'd feared, there was a broad grin on his face. The smugness was spreading.

Flashing his own grin Sonic reached down, ruffling the young fox's ears. "Nah, it's just that Cream's here. Got to be a good role model, after all, I can't let her think heroes back down from a challenge. Let alone lie."

The young boy snorted. "Yeah right, you just don't want to admit it."

"Admit what?" He feigned ignorance.

"Though you whined about the race, and I'm sure you'll moan when you lose, you don't think Amy winning would be such a bad thing." Sonic could practically hear his influence in the young boy's taunts. "In fact, I bet you want to go on that da-

The hedgehog continued to noogie him, further messing his fur and cutting him off. "Yeah, well, when I beat her in this race I'll prove you doubly wrong, won't I? That'll be a change."

Finally, the boy genius pushed him off. The grin on his fluffy muzzle was forced into view. "Lucky I brought your inflatable then, isn't it? Or will you not be needing them, seeing as you're so confident."

Hands crossed over his heart, an overly pained expression overcame the Blue Blur's face. Bending his right leg he allowed himself to lean on the young fox as if he'd been gravely wounded. "My own little bro, siding with the enemy. Where did I go wrong? You knew about this, you knew they'd tricked me all this time and yet you said nothing. Oh Tails, how could you?" His right arm raised to cross his brow as he began to mock cry; "My own bro, betrayed by my own bro!"

Laughter erupted beneath him, Sonic heard the sound of feet struggling to kick up sand as the little fox struggled to support him; "It's not like I could've done anything about it, you agreed before I could say anything."

At that, Sonic brought himself to stand straight; whipping a final faux tear from his eye. "I suppose I'll find it in my heart to forgive you then. Stop me next time though, alright? Tackle me to the ground if you have to, you're meant to be my brains."

"Fine, fine, I promise I'll stop you next time." Tails promised. Reaching behind himself and into a small rucksack, the youth pulled out a dark blue lifejacket. On its shoulder a new addition, a bright orange whistle on an extendable cord.

Sonic took it with a sigh, pulling it over his shoulders before doing the buckle around his belly. "You're really confident in me winning, aren't you Tails?"

He shrugged, that smugness had returned. "Better to be safe than sorry,"

The blue blur turned back to the water, Amy wasn't lying when she said it was calm. It must have been close to low tide but the beach was long and empty. A glance further up the bank revealed Cream and Cheese, staking two flags into the sand; both their finish line and likely starting point. So, there would be a dash from land to water before the true challenge started. While at first he'd thought this would merely give him a small head start, an idea snuck its way to the forefront of his mind. There was a technique that, while difficult, he had performed before in times of crisis. The sand sprawled out far enough for it, the only problem he could really foresee was rounding the midway buoy, a sharp turn. If he could control his turning long enough to manage that then things would be fine. Running on water, well… it was worth a shot at least?

"Well, good luck finding your nerve. I'm sure you'll have fun on the date." Before Sonic could get in another word, Tails had taken off; tail spinning as he rushed over to aid the young rabbit.

Rolling his eyes, Sonic opened the valve in his lifejacket and started to blow; inflating it until he felt safe. The young fox wasn't necessarily wrong; even if this plan didn't work out he was more scared of the water than he was the practically inevitable date. Despite his stutter and regret, he hadn't lied; he did enjoy spending time with her. Amy was always excited to see him and she could pull reactions from him that no one else could. She kept him going like no one else could. Pacing, he cast his eyes across the water's surface; watching the waves froth as they broke against pale sand. It really was gross, everything from the scent of salt to the sound told him he wasn't meant to be here. Even the sand beneath his feet was uneven; it kicked up with every step and certainly didn't make for smooth running. Standing on the beach was definitely way worse than lying on the beach, at least then he could keep his distance from the water, listen to music and properly daydream.

"I thought I'd be seeing you at the starting line, I'm surprised you're still hanging back here." Amy had returned, freeing him from his thoughts. "You'll be swimming in your shoes then?"

"Figured I'd end up waiting for you no matter what." He grinned, turning to her as they wandered toward the finish line. "And well, if we're starting with a sprint I ought to get the most out of my head start."

Her red dress had been shed in place of a red swimsuit. While he tried not to think too long about it, let alone stare too long, he did think it suited her. It was a simple, red, one-piece suit but, around the waist, it had additional fabric that flared out to give the guise of a white skirt with a thin red hem.

"I thought you were going to win this race no sweat." She teased.

Winning would still be difficult but with his plan in mind; there was a spark of genuine confidence in his heart. "Well yeah, but this way you won't even make it to the water. No point in you getting soaked over what's sure to be a landslide victory."

"Oh, we'll see about that." They arrived at the starting line, Cream having gathered pebbles from the surrounding area to construct the start/finish line itself and flags being planted to better separate their lanes. "If you're going to do your best, so will I."

As she started to stretch, warming up well for someone certain they'd win, he couldn't help noticing Amy's hairband had been replaced with a messy bun; her quills bundled near the back of her head. Despite telling himself he wouldn't, he'd found himself staring at the cute sight; pulled in by her excitement. Tearing himself away he reached across his body, beginning a stretch of his own.

With the kids continued to set things up, Tails preparing a camera in case (by some miracle) a photo finish occurred, Sonic saw idle opportunity to pry. "So Ames, what did you have in mind for that date?"

"You'll just have to wait and see." She swapped from crossing her right arm against her body to the left.

"What, no spoilers?" He bent down, touching his toes before reaching behind himself; feeling his calves warm. "Come on Amy, give me a hint at least."

"I know the only way to keep you interested is to keep you on your toes," She continued to refuse. "If I told you now, wouldn't you get bored?"

"A deal's a deal, isn't it? I'm coming on the date if you win, no matter how gross it is." Another glance to Amy found her mid-lunge, returning his gaze. "But that doesn't matter, I'm only asking 'cause I'm gonna win. Tell me now, it might convince me to lose on purpose."

"We both know, as soon as your feet leave the sand, you're going to get stuck my darling." She jested. "Regardless, I want you to enjoy yourself on the date so…"

"So?" He quirked a brow, awaiting her statement.

"Well…I haven't quite decided what we're doing yet." That surprised him; Amy had been asking him out for as long as he could remember… yet she had nothing planned? She elaborated. "I've waited so long for this, I've had my heart set on so many ideas, but now it's so close I'm not sure what I want to do." She stood straight, rolling some final kinks out of her shoulders. "Twinkle Park, going to the movies, getting dinner… I can't decide." There was a sparkle in her eyes that, coupled with the glow in her cheeks brought on by her warm-up, was too much for him.

Maybe, if his plan did work out, he'd treat her to something anyway. Go out for chilidogs or maybe just hang around the beach a little longer, today felt like an ice cream and relaxing kind of day.

Having caught himself staring again, Sonic turned away. "Well, it's good you're not set on anything seeing as I'm gonna win."

"In your dreams my darling Sonic." The pink hedgehog had taken her place on the starting line, lowering herself to a crouching start position.

Sonic matched it, fingertips buried in the sand and eyes locked on the path ahead. The running lane couldn't be longer than twenty metres, even that was a higher estimate. Still, he figured it would be enough to build up the speed, he'd grab onto the buoy on the way around for turning leverage. Yeah, that seemed like it'd work!

At the edge of his lane stood Tails and at Amy's stood Cream, both prepared a flag in one hand and a whistle in the other. Cream was beaming. "The first one back wins! Good luck you two!"

"On your marks…"

"Get set…"

With the blow of the whistle he was off, kicking up sand and bolting forward as fast as he could; not a glance to Tails nor even back to Amy as he claimed his lead. No sound but his footfalls and breathing filled his ears, vision tunnelled on the midway buoy. Soon the dull thudding of his feet turned to splashing, the smack of his soles against water, he had to be prepared for that; had to maintain his pace, quicken it even. He could feel the wind cutting against his cheeks, muffling the sun's warmth as the pounding of his heart grew faster.

Then it happened, the first splash; he'd arrived in the shallows! Sonic closed his eyes, refusing brace himself lest it slowed him. Seaspray coated his body, beads of water like bullets buried into his fur to mingle the salt of his sweat with their own. His footfalls continued; short, rapid, splashes that blurred into each other, making it impossible to identify how far out to sea he was. Confident he could keep this up, the hedgehog's eyes reopened. As he could feel, the waters directly in front of him were flickering up with every step; colliding with his legs and bare stomach. He refocused on the buoy, growing closer with every fraction of a second, in preparation he reached out with his right arm. It couldn't have been ten seconds since he'd left the beach, probably closer to five.

The hedgehog lent in preparation for the turn. Contact was made with the flag. His fingers coiled around the pole's length. A resounding snap cut through his wet footfalls. The flagpole hadn't been strong enough to handle his speed and had broken in two; before he could even realise what had happened it was dragging behind him. The drag from the pole had an immediate impact on his speed, rather than bounce off the surface Sonic's next footfall splashed straight through it. Sonic quickly let go of the pipe but it was already too late, his slowed (but still considerable) momentum led him to bounce off the surface twice, splashing deeper each time, before he found himself submerged and spinning.

The world was a blur, his mouth opened only to fill with seawater as his head dunked time and time again, carried by his own prior speed. When he finally stabilised and surfaced he'd completely lost his bearings, coughing and spluttering the hedgehog found himself surrounded by ocean; kept afloat by his life vest more than his awful attempt to tread water. His shoes waterlogged, he could already feel them starting to slip. Limbs smacking against the surface, Sonic was struggling to turn. Craning his neck, bobbing as though he were tempest-tossed, Sonic could see the base of the buoy and, no more than a few metres beyond that floating grey orb, a bobbing pink head on the approach.

Having spat up what was either his fourth or fifth mouthful of water, he felt a wave meet with his back and push him ever so slightly closer to the floater. He knew he was supposed to lean forward, kick his legs and swing his arms, but the position was just too bizarre to him. The hedgehog was at his best upright, sprinting, not lying down and flailing. Thus, precisely as Amy had predicted, Sonic found himself doggy paddling; arms fumbling through the water as he ran in place. His pace was gruelling, though he continued to wriggle the truth he'd always known had set in. In the water, he stood no chance of beating Amy.

Her consistent, fast-paced, breaststroke was cutting through the water unfazed by its gentle waves. As he watched the pink hedgehog approach he did, admittedly, feel himself relax. Tail's lifejacket, despite its condescending whistle, was keeping his head well above the water despite his frantic efforts. He wasn't comfortable but, at the very least, seeing her so close made him feel safe. Before he could quite make it to the buoy she'd pulled up in front of him, coming to a halt and treading water so very casually.

Soaked and ragged, he used most of his remaining smarm. "Hey, Ames. Long time no see."

"Hey." That prior cockiness wasn't there, instead that gentle smile she'd worn when she'd worried about his fear. "Need a little help?"

"Maybe just a little, looks like you're goin' my way and getting there way faster than me." He smiled.

"Nothing to it but practice." She'd gotten closer still, floating shoulder to shoulder with him. "Wrap your arm around me and I'll show you."

He fully stopped treading water, taking her offer and allowing herself to properly float with her. It'd be a lie to say he wasn't embarrassed but, given the situation, he thought he was keeping his cool rather well. "I think it'll be lost on me but I'll give it a shot."

Amy lowered herself, laying flat in the water, and began to swim again. She'd slowed yes, head permanently raised above the water rather than bobbing, but her pace was still ten times what his had been, "You just need to understand that, as long as you keep moving, you'll keep floating."

"You say that but without this vest, I'd have sunk like a stone regardless of how hard I struggled." He explained.

"That's where the practice comes in, the more you do it the longer you'll manage to stay up."

"I'm sure you're right Ames, but, I think I'll just stick to dry land wherever I can." He couldn't help staring at her as she swam; powerful arms cutting through the water. Words seemed to bubble up without his say. "Then again, I guess I would like to practice running on water some more. If I'd made it around that corner I'd have beat you for certain."

"Well, if you want another shot at it you could always challenge me to another race." He could tell she was joking, at least mostly, "Although, I've yet to decide on our first date, let alone a second…"

As she raised the deal again, a thought entered the hedgehog's head, one he hadn't considered until now. Thinking fast, Sonic waggled his forefinger; "I said if you won I'd go on a date with you, not what kind of date we'd be going on." Finally, having been soaked and beaten, things were back to their natural state. He was the one being cocky. "That means I get to pick what we do."

"Oh Sonic, you really think that matters to me? Of course, you can pick our first date! I'd love that!" Her swimming slowed, she'd turned to look over her shoulder. A smile had spread across her lips, still gently pulling him along. "I didn't pick this race because I knew I'd win, I picked it so you couldn't keep running once you cleared the finishing line. Any time spent with you is a good time."

"Y-Yeah, sure, wh-whatever, Ames." Though he couldn't bring himself to admit it, surrounded by ocean and blushing profusely, he felt the same.

[nympsycho-ao3]

Tender Lover

Want to read on AO3? Click here!

As the newest member of La Squadra, you have boundless expectations to meet and exceed. For your first mission with your partner, Melone, he finds you to be perfectly suitable for Babyface's qualifications. Wanting to fulfill whatever role is needed to  ensure the success of the mission, you're left with no choice but to accept the embryo that you incubate, birth, and care for. Luckily, you accept your responsibilities wholeheartedly.

In which Melone uses Babyface to impregnate you and coaches you through your rapid pregnancy and subsequent birth.

A request fic from Sylveon_Z on AO3

You’re glad that Risotto carefully considered the prospects that you offer when choosing a partner for your first team mission. Your stand is powerful, yet you’re acutely aware of its drawbacks; from what Risotto tells you, your partner bolsters those weaknesses perfectly. The concept excites you, finally ready to prove to La Squadra that you’re worth your weight. The odds are against you as it is, being the only female member that Risotto has pitied enough to take under his wing. When the other members heard of your mission placement and partner, you couldn’t help but notice the concerned glances they exchanged among themselves. What exactly was this ‘Melone’ like? No one gives you the consideration of a warning, and you’re too intimidated by Risotto to speak when not spoken to.

You’ll just have to wait as you’ve been instructed to do, legs crossed on the plush, purple couch beneath you. Any sign of weakness or fear must be suppressed, even as you wait patiently alone in the hang-out’s parlor, if you want any modicum of respect from your teammates. Being docile and obedient doesn’t suit your style, considering you’ve worked your way up from poverty to be here. Working under them is a necessary evil, though, if you want to be paid fairly for the work you’ve already gone into debt to accomplish.

You maintain your poker face as the door opens in front of you, creaking as it makes way for who you can only assume to be your partner. He’s not what you expected, his lavender hair and gentle gait making him seem more like a polite tactician than the fearsome miscreant he’s been made out to be. The metallic briefcase by his side is reminiscent of a salaryman’s, though as he closes the door behind him, you realize it’s adorned by keys and a screen like a computer.

It’s only after he spots your form, long legs crossed with farcical stolid body language, that his expression changes from tepidness to uninhibited provocation. Your gut squirms under his lecherous gaze, though you give no indication of it. As he approaches you, you decide to let him be the first to speak.

“(Y/N),” he states simply, his deep voice tightening your throat when combined with his towering stature. “Indeed, I thought your name sounded… feminine.”

You funnel your tension into the muscles of your jaw, hoping it wasn’t noticeable. “Melone, was it?”

His eyes widen for just a moment at the sound of his name on your lips. He’s not afraid to openly scan your body, unconcerned with decency or politeness. Your lip curls slightly as his eyes linger on your calves, making you wish you wore anything but this skirt. Who does this guy think he is, making you feel like a piece of meat?

“Hm, yes…” he mutters, obviously distracted. You fold your arms across your chest in an attempt to maintain your dignity. There was something exciting, though, about the way he widens his stance and peers down at you.

“The mission,” you snap, trying to get his mind back on track to more important matters. “I’m told you have the sample we need.”

He hums, apparently pleased that you mentioned it. “Yes, it was an easy grab. Do you know what it means?”

“An easy grab?” you blink, face contorting with apprehensive confusion.

“No,” Melone sneers, though his tone is more clinical than diminutive. “The sample.”

You don’t want to admit that Risotto hardly gave you any information other than his name. His eyes prod you for answers as he crouches to your level, the proximity of your faces quite uncomfortable. He’s impressed at your cool collectiveness, used to women far more petrified by his presence.

“Not particularly,” you answer, your voice as smooth as you can manage.

Melone’s tone giddies, looking with the eye unobstructed by his hair at you with jovial brightness. The expression is strange on the rather scholarly man, only making you more uncomfortable. He leans closer to you, leaning his weight onto his hand on the couch by your hip, his head tilting to drape his hair out of the way of his full vision.

You don’t dare move, something about this guy keeping you pinned in place. Your breath hitches as his palm sheathes your lower abdomen, the heat of it meeting your bare skin. Your teeth grit as you stare daggers into his eyes, too fascinated by your belly to meet your gaze.

“W-what--“ you begin to bark. You’re interrupted by his lips pressing into yours, though his eyes remain open and oddly perceptive. His tongue slides across your teeth, then winds its way across your tongue, before running it along the roof of your mouth.

You throw his chest away from you with a jolt of your palm, his breastbone providing ample leverage as you knock him onto his knees. You scowl at him as you move to sit on the couch, despising the way he smiles at you from below.

“Your teeth,” he beams, his eyes too excited for someone who just had his advances refused. “No cavities, no fillings.”

You stare down at him as you wipe spit from your lips, finally rattled enough to express fiery bafflement. He prattles on like a doctor recording his assessment, collected and professional.

“Mucous membranes moist and pink,” he continues, rising onto his knees to take your face into his hands. You squirm, but you’re no match for his strength, accentuated by his apparent excitement. You clench your fist against the couch cushion as he rubs the meeting of your jaw and your skull before sliding his hands towards your neck.

He can’t help himself, springing from the floor to straddle himself into your lap. He grabs your wrists and pins them behind you, your legs kicking out with the weight. He hardly seems affected as he waits for you to submit, which you know better than to prolong.

After you relax, he brings your wrist to his lips. With a long, pensive drag of his tongue, he traces the sensation of your pulse. You keep yourself collected, the sensation of sticky saliva on the inside of your wrist sending a shiver through your spine and into the base of your skull.

“Radial pulse 2+, regular, heart rate 72,” he groans, titillated by the prospects you apparently offer. You bring your knees together despite his weight on your thighs.

You writhe until he releases your wrist, your fist slamming against his back instinctively. He relents, easing some of his weight onto his knees in an act of apparent mercy. You try to think of something to say, anything, but nothing leaves your throat but a broken murmur.

“You’re perfect so far. How old are you? You look a little young.”

You scoff, not sure if you should be insulted. His finger trails down your breastbone and onto your abdomen, poking and prodding. He knows you’ll answer him, as you have no other choice.

“(Your Age),” you grunt, tensing the muscles of your abdomen under his inspection.

“Hm…” he hums as he circles your gut with his hands. “Bellissimo (Beautiful).”

You buck your hips under him, catching him off-guard. He shifts his weight to one knee, finally freeing you enough to jerk your knee upwards. Your target is obvious as Mellone’s legs open to straddle you, much to his amusement.

He falls away from you to avoid the strike, sliding back onto the floor. His palms capture your knees and presses them into the floor, inhibiting further movement. He chuckles with anticipation, his eyes feral and ready for something you can’t predict.

“Such strong conviction, such a clear head… you will make a fantastic teacher,” he murmurs, looking up at you with what must be adoration tucked within his green eyes. You should do something, anything, to get away from this creep—but, something stops you. A fear of retaliation, perhaps? If he’s not afraid to do this after just meeting you, who knows what else he would do?

He spreads your legs with a smooth pry, revealing plenty to him at eye level. Your face flushes with the realization of his intentions and the intense, frenzied look on his face. As you snap your fists towards him, he catches them with ease, pressing them by your side as you grimace under the pressure of his fingers. He keeps your legs open with his shoulders, ironically moving his face closer to you to maintain your position.

“Gallinetta (Cheeky girl) ,” he hisses, his voice bubbling with excitement. “You were doing so well for me.”

You scowl at him. Despite looking down at him, you’re easily overpowered and perpetually dominated. You relax your knees, having no choice but to accept this. You try to maintain what grace you have left, the aching in your wrists not worth the struggle.

He senses your obedience, his eyes glistening happily as he releases your wrists. His hands return to the insides of your thighs, rounding his palm against their softness. He caresses your hips, sliding the hem of your skirt to reveal a peek of color between your legs.

Whatever he sees, he must be happy with. You avert your gaze towards the classical painting to your right, trying to ignore the heat that’s building deep in your pelvis.

The muscles of your thighs tense for a moment as he gently slides your panties out of the way of his full view of your vulva. You bring your arms to your chest, trying to find comfort despite feeling horribly exposed. Why was he doing this? Why would Risotto pair you with someone who would do this? You begin to regret reaching out to La Squadra, the embarrassment starting to overtake your dogmatism.

It’s only after he glides a confident pad of his finger along your slit that you begin to warm up to his ministrations. You didn’t notice how badly you’d wanted him to touch you, the cold air against your wetness uncomfortable. He grins widely at your reactions, particularly as his finger circles your clitoris. He mumbles something in Italian that you can’t decipher, your gut aching with sharp guilt and regrettable neediness.

“You’re the best host yet,” he grins, the sing-song of his voice making his comment a genuine compliment. You’re not sure how to take it.

You don’t have much time to consider your response as his tongue slides from your entrance to your clit, careful and tactful. You dig your toes into the carpet, the sensation foreign and delightful.

He huffs a breath through his nose as he tastes you, the heat of it undulating your hips. He’s entranced, the smile visible despite his mouth held agape. You can’t help but stare as he brings a finger to your opening, pushing it in a bit too fast.

You grimace as he stretches your opening with a hook of his finger, his tongue gliding into your canal with a flick. His eyes roll towards the back of his head, taking in every modicum of scent and taste that he can muster from you. As he withdraws, his lips remain parted and slicked with your fluids. His tongue darts out to take the remnants into his mouth, cleaning his finger with a swift suck.

“Cervical fluid thickened and plentiful. Pelvic support adequate. Basal temperature increased. Luteinizing hormone and progesterone elevated,” his words tumble from his lips in excitement, almost star-struck by you.

“You’re perfect,  mia tesora  (my treasure),” he breathes, his words shaky with anticipation. “You’re in excellent health.”

You can barely catch your breath, nonetheless form coherent words. He rises to pin you under his embrace, his forearms on each side of your head as he leans in close to your heated face.

“The… the mission,” you assert once more, your one-track mind bringing a humble chuckle from his chest.

“You don’t understand,” Melone slurs, overtaken by the promise of what’s before him. “You could be the only reason this mission succeeds.”

His words pique your interests, meeting his gaze in earnest. He picks up on your proclivities.

“(Y/N), only you and you alone can fulfill our purpose and lead us to victory,” he persuades, his tone growing cooler and more calculated as he assesses your reaction.

“How?” you manage to utter, bringing your knees together slowly despite the stickiness between your thighs.

“Cultivate my stand,” he asserts. “Give him your fertile body and nurture it.”

You’re still confused, your head spinning from oxytocin and hyperventilation. He ushers himself back onto your lap and takes your face into his hands, his urgency increasing your blood pressure. He notices and works to relax you, stroking your hair and forcing his expression to soothe.

“The mission relies on this. You have to accept,” he pressures, drinking in the scent of virility that seeps from your sweat. Your pheromones wetten his mouth with saliva, sweet and captivating.

You want to know more, what to prepare for. Instead, with the success of the mission dangled in front of you and the feeling of exposure, you can only utter a single word.

“Fine.”

Melone hurls himself from you, careening in excitement. You’re almost flattered, if it weren’t for the strange circumstances you find yourself in. He waves a hand towards the bulbous, grey console by his feet, rushed and tense.

The unit bursts to life, a series of tendrils forming into legs before your eyes as it works to balance itself on all fours. You bring your knees to your chest, avoiding the look of the beady yellow eyes that form at the base of the console. Mellone slides a glass vial into a compartment on the surface, filled with blood.

“Relax,” he reassures smoothly, moving to sit next to you on the couch. The computer-like stand moves towards you quickly, text filling its screen in waves. He takes you into an authoritative embrace, holding you still. “You’ll do perfectly. You’re without flaw.”

You shudder with his words; you know he’s flattering you hollowly just to get what he wants, but that doesn’t stop a blush from crossing your face. Melone uses his grip on you to usher you onto your side, then onto your abdomen. He brushes the hair out of your face as you nestle your cheek against his thigh, craning your neck to witness the strange stand at your feet. Melone smooths his palm down your spine slowly, pushing your pelvis into the cushion of the couch as your legs straighten.

You yelp as the machine hops onto the couch and between your legs. The shift in weight widens your eyes, staring ahead at the closed door by your side. The stand composes your hips into the air and sets you on your knees, curving your back to get a better view. The stand is already intimately familiar with the possibilities, but with Melone’s heightened excitement it takes its time to assess you thoroughly.

“Melone,” you utter, fear overshadowing your confidence and dedication to the mission. “What—”

Your words are choked off by the alien sensation of a tendril lapping between your labia, silky and insistent. It’s announcing its presence in a rare act of consideration, though the kindness doesn’t last long. You grit your teeth and dig your cheekbone into Melone, the tentacle slipping inside you with a twist. Melone hushes you and gives you rhythmic pats on the crown of your head.

The tentacle bulks inside you, a more defined head appearing at the tip of the shaft, ridged and metallic. Baubles and bumps rub against you as you squirm, the increase in girth pushing your already tempted limits. You take the fabric of Melone’s pants into your fists as the stand holds your hips still, pushing you into position unforgivingly.

“You have to stay calm,” Melone murmurs. “Stress is bad for the baby.”

You wince at the word as Melone cups the top of your hand with his palm. He coaxes your grip to relax, enfolding his fingers between your own, giving you something soft to dig your frustrations into. The warmth of his hand is undeniably comforting despite the electric sensation between your legs.

Babyface fills you completely, flush with your entrance. You breathe heavily, keeping your nerves together as the head juts against your cervix. Melone mutters pleasantries as you relax the muscles of your pelvic floor, accepting the length and girth as best you can.

A strange sensation captures your attention. From the base of Babyface’s cock, a bulging roundness enters the tight ring of muscle of your entrance. It climbs its way through the shaft, the hardness of it unsettling. Melone urges you to keep quiet, warning you that the other squad members might hear; the idea mortifies you and you force your pressured moans back into your gut.

“Good,” he sneers, his tone darkening.

You clench your eyes shut as Babyface locks you into place, a harsh growth pressing against the bones of your pelvis at the base of its cock. Its knot inflates with intermittent pumps, expanding inside you. Even if you tried to move away, you couldn’t, your bodies connected in the most animalistic of ways. From the tip of Babystand’s cock, a marble-sized gelatinous orb presses against your cervix. You bite your lip to keep yourself content, the pressure aching deeply within you.

Melone’s comfort, just as it’s needed most, is horribly absent. You careen with the alien sensation of the embryo prying its way through your cervix, stretching your opening unforgivingly. When you finally cry out, the discomfort searing your insides, Melone merely slaps his palm against your mouth. You contemplate biting him, but decide it’s against your best interests.

The embryo enters your uterus with a jolt after crossing the tension of the threshold, suddenly surging into you without pause. You bury your face in Melone’s thigh, a fiery ache settling in your gut as Babyface’s knot begins to shrink. Its job is done-- at least for now.

Even after he pulls out, the sensation of presence doesn’t leave you. Babyface allows you to sink your hips into the couch, crouching as you absorb the sensations that flood your mind. The sound of Melone’s sultry chuckle almost infuriates you, if not for the strange electricity that lightnings through your nerves.

It’s…  stupefying .

Melone captures your shoulders and hauls you onto your knees, your palm moving to rest just under your belly button. He releases his grip on your mouth, sensing your growing obedience. You crane your neck to stare at him incredulously, meeting his flourishing gaze hesitantly. From deep within your gut, something announces its presence without hesitation. Your head spins as blood flows from your brain into your belly, nurturing something that already begins growing inside you.

“This won’t take long,” Melone insists. You turn onto your back with the increasing pressure in your belly, thumping against the couch. He supports your back with his chest, cradling you to keep you in place. He places two fingers along your carotid, tentatively taking your pulse as your breath quickens with the overwhelming sensations that flood your thoughts.

Melone doesn’t lie. From the moment that his stand withdrew from you, something began to ache and stretch within your gut. Within just a minute, you have to heave to keep your diaphragm working under the pressure and duress of the expansion of your belly. Melone offers no sympathy except for the stability behind you. You raise your knees to plant your feet onto the couch cushion as your belly rounds and expands before your eyes, the skin bulging with a deep, throbbing ache.

As your belly protrudes, Melone slides his hand from your neck to your belly, taking in the sensation of his progeny germinating and flourishing within you. You feel an excited growl of approval from his chest, his fingers fanning as your belly quickly bulges to stretch the waistline of your pants. A desperate, gasping moan froths from your chest as you throw your head back onto Melone, staring at the ceiling to ground yourself.

Panic overtakes you, reality falling from your grasp through your fingers. How could this be happening? This isn’t possible; you can’t fathom a biological actuality that would explain the situation you find yourself in. You shudder with what must be fear that nips at the back of your throat, crying out when the baby grows with a spurt.

“Shh… (Y/N),” he murmurs into your ear, his molten tone quickly quieting you into pathetic whimpers. “Not much longer. Stay calm.”

Time passes too slowly, and at three minutes your hips begin to shift, accommodating the rapid opening of your cervix. Oxytocin floods your rationality, a smile growing across your face as you finally dare to glance down at your belly. Sweat dots your hairline as you finally accept the baby, a tingling pleasure sweeping over your nerves like electricity. Tendrils of its presence weaken your legs and numb you, static spreading from your groin.

Endorphins wrack your sensibility, confidence building in your mind and soul as you curl your toes into the fabric beneath them. After just thirty more seconds, you feel your breasts become sore and needy, filling out with anticipation. Melone takes one of your breasts into his waiting palm, cupping the heaviness as he pulls your top aside to expose your nipple. As he twists his fingers curiously around the nub, inklings of milk drip onto his fingers.

He grins in approval, swiping the milk across his bottom lip before sampling it with his curious tongue. It’s sweet with prolactin. “You’re doing so well. Keep breathing.”

You do as he asks happily, keeping your breathing even and regular. You hadn’t noticed that you’d been holding your breath until then, the flood of oxygen lightening your head. Your hands find Melone’s chest as you reach behind you, taking his outfit into your fist. He tolerates it, admiring your tenacity in the face of such tumultuous circumstances.

Four minutes have passed, and with each passing second you question why you’ve never done this before. Your pelvis is wrought with uninhibited adrenaline, exciting you and widening your hazy grin. It’s like you were born for this, born to be bred and fulfill your very important mission for Melone. You furrow your brows as your shaky hand drapes over the peak of your belly. Your eyes widen as you feel your baby press his hand against yours-- a greeting, his first sign of true life. You slouch into Melone, your legs widening by their own accord, taking in the feeling of your baby writhing in your belly beneath your touch.

“Yes, relax. Get ready, yes… perfect…” he murmurs, perhaps almost as excited as you are. His words soothe you to your core, the rush of hormones combining with the expansion of your belly overwhelming you. Yet you’ve never felt more  human  as you recoil against the first true contraction tighten the muscles of your womb.

Melone murmurs pleasantries into your ear as you near the fifth and final minute of the incubation. A deep, primal desire urges you to push, relieving the pressure of the contraction with a sting of regret. Melone swipes beads of sweat from your forehead as you laugh almost in disbelief at the pleasure that singes deep within you.

Your belly relents with waves of contractions, something settling into place gradually as you hold yourself together as best you can. Melone coaches your breathing genuinely as you writhe and twist with the forceful persuasion of the baby’s head pressing against your cervix.

Melone holds your lower jaw in his hand, eyes locked between your legs as you careen and moan with the pressure. Your belly undulates with the baby’s movements and your womb working to expel it from you, gratification washing over you with each pulse. Instinct guides your every movement, preparing for the baby’s release.

“Di molto …!”

Your eyes roll as the baby’s shoulders pass your threshold. He easily slides out of you, your passage waiting and ready. You feel him pass through you, inch by inch. A wave of release comes over you as he makes his way out into the world, your belly shrinking slightly with the lack of presence. A part of you is sad to be without him inside you, despite the joy and pride that washes over the features of your face. Melone holds you tightly, grinning wider than you.

Soon after the pique of adrenaline dissipates from your body, exhaustion comes to replace it. You feel used and thoroughly appreciated, all of your energy and lifeblood dedicated to the successful procreation that supposedly guarantees the success of your mission. As far as you’re concerned, the mission is already a success as you glance between your legs and catch sight of the beautiful baby between your legs.

He’s unlike any newborn you’ve ever seen, but that doesn’t change the adoration that you feel for him. Instinct guides his gaze towards yours, curious pleated eyes finding your face. He smiles as he sits up, more independent than a human baby, ready to fulfill his own duties after you so bravely accomplished yours.

You’re speechless, barely able to catch your breath, as he extends a tiny, determined blue hand onto your thigh. He starts to crawl, heaving his weight up and over onto your belly. You greet him with open arms as he moves on all fours to rest on your chest, the spikes on his head having no effect on your numbed skin.

“B… beautiful,” you utter with a raspy voice, exertion taking its toll on you. You stroke the little one’s back as he settles into the softness of your chest. He’s tried too, his eyes barely open; after all, he has more work to do than you do now.

“What does ‘beautiful’ mean?” the baby asks, his voice bringing a hesitant tear to your eye. It isn’t strange to hear him speak, almost as if it were completely expected for your newborn to form coherent sentences.

“You,” you respond gently, patting his head with a delicate finger. “You are beautiful.”

The baby beams, the weight of him bringing you back down to Earth. Melone reaches out to him and rubs his cheek with his thumb.

“How do you feel about your mother?” Melone asks, the lilt to his voice adjusting to what a child enjoys hearing.

The baby considers for a moment before curling into you. The softness of his skin warms your belly where his absence left it cold.

“My mommy is the best mommy,” he answers confidently, rolling between your breasts happily. You nearly cry with his words, so proud and appreciative that you have earned the title of “mommy”.

“Good, good…” Melone mulls, taking one of his chubby, little feet between his finger and thumb. “Son, we’re going to teach you everything you need to know.”

He’s apparently enticed by the idea, already lining up questions for both of you. However, the most important thing on his mind takes precedence to all others.

“I’m hungry,” he whines, looking up at you pitifully. “What should I do?”

Melone releases his foot after assessing it curiously. You can’t take your eyes off of your baby as Melone swipes a drop of milk from your nipple onto his finger.

“You’re ready,” he affirms, though you’re not sure to whom he’s addressing. He offers your bud of milk to the baby, who laps it with an inquisitive flick of his tongue. His features brighten from hesitancy to excitement as he takes Melone’s finger into his mouth, suckling for more.

“Here,” Melone instructs, guiding him gently towards your breast. The baby releases Melone’s finger only to latch on to your nipple greedily, his hands balancing him as he closes his eyes to suckle.

You relax the crown of your head against Melone’s chest, your hand cradling the baby’s bottom as he feeds. Melone brushes stray hairs from your sweaty forehead, tender fingers easing you as the numbness of your skin begins to wear off. There’s no pain, though, only an awareness that you’re still in the same room you were in before despite it feeling foreign.

However, you’re a different person entirely.

Tags:

Pregnancy Kink

rapid pregnancy

Tentacle Dick

Knotting

Medical Examination

Embryo Implantation

Oviposition

Kinda

Doggy Style

Belly Kink

Inflation

Pheromones

Hormones

Overstimulation

Vaginal Birth

Childbirth

Newborn Children

Breastfeeding

Birth Fetish

Fpreg

Impregnation

Lactation

Lactation Kink

labor fetish

Ovulation

Standcest (JoJo)

fertility

Stand Impregnation

Pregnancy

Painless Birth

5 Minute Pregnancy

Pleasurable Birth

Pet Names

Breeding

[castle-gaius]

Gaius’ Costumes Descriptions

Haircuts

Default Haircut: How does he see with this hairstyle?! Hat Style: This must make it much easier to see! Xillia Haircut 1: The black hairpin signifies his right of succession. No-Pin Haircut: His original hairstyle, without the hairpin. Xillia Haircut 2: A dyed variant of his old look. Final Boss Haircut: The power of Muzét gave him incredible strength and superhuman fashion sense! School Hairstyle: Gaius' pompadour, which takes several hours each morning to style, is super hard and can also double as the last line of defense! Swimming Hairstyle: Gaius slicks his hair back when going swimming. Now he looks even more like an islander! Dymlos Hairstyle: A hairstyle like that of Dymlos from Tales of Destiny. Having his bangs stick out like that gives him a rather heroic appearance! Judo Hairstyle: Messy long hair is proof of one who has endured long, difficult training to walk the path of the warrior.

Costumes

Default Attire: With the new identity of Erston comes a brand new wardrobe, more suitable for blending in. Color Variation: Gaius dyed his spare outfit for a more imposing clothing option. No Jacket: Without the jacket, the flame emblem really stands out! Xillia Outfit 1: Traditional kingly raiments Gaius used to wear back in Auj Oule. Xillia Outfit 2: A variant of Gaius' royal outfit. Boss Mode: When Muzét gives you powers that far exceed those of ordinary humans, you simply must update your wardrobe to match! School Uniform: Gaius was a class president despite also being the school bully. The stitching on the back shows he had excellent calligraphy skills. Swimwear: Gaius is from a land always covered in snow, but these trunks make him look like a local islander! Dymlos Costume: A costume made to look like the garb worn by Dymlos from Tales of Destiny. Judo Uniform: "Flexibility overcomes firmness" says the main law of judo. Anyone with a sword would probably think otherwise, but hey.

Attachments

Gaius' Crest: If you see this, it means he is done toying with you. How fearsome! Gaius' Headband: Proof of one's right to the succession in Auj Oule. Probably best not to play with it... School Armband: This armband proves that Gaius was class president. He claimed it meant he could eat the other student's snacks if he wanted! School Muffler: A muffler with class and style that suited the schoolyard bully that was Gaius. No one knows where he got it from. Beach Necklace: A necklace sold in Gaius' hometown. It reflects all kinds of light, giving it a consistently sparkly appearance. Beach Towel: A towel that can be worn like a headband to absorb sweat. People will think you just got fresh out of the gym! Swimming Bracelet: A bracelet sold at souvenir shops. You can get anything you want engraved on the inside, apparently.

[phinnsyreads]

Item #: SCP-022

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: A vault door has been installed following Incident 022-827 to seal SCP-022. It is to remain locked at all times, with the sole exception being the appearance of an instance of SCP-022-1. The original door to SCP-022 was destroyed during Incident 022-827, with attempts at replacement being met with failure. Security cameras have been installed to monitor for instances of SCP-022-1.

In the event that an instance of SCP-022-1 appears, automated systems should incinerate it the moment it leaves SCP-022. At this point the vault door may be unlocked to admit cleanup crews. Should the automated systems fail to destroy the instance of SCP-022-1, response teams are cleared to enter and neutralize it. Under no circumstances may any living human enter SCP-022 except at the order of Class-4 personnel for testing purposes. Class-4 personnel may also order instances of SCP-022-1 to be captured and held; however, they may not be removed from SCP-022 containment facilities.

Description: SCP-022 is a morgue in the basement of [REDACTED] Hospital in Great Britain. Until 198█, there were no reported anomalous occurrences within the morgue. Reports of strange activity were first received in November of 198█. The area was soon quarantined by the Foundation, with an official story being released that the entire building had been condemned. The reason for the sudden manifestation of its strange properties remains under investigation.

Periodically, a random drawer within the morgue will open to reveal a cadaver under a sheet. After approximately six minutes open, the cadaver will animate and attempt to leave the morgue. At this point, the cadaver is given the designation SCP-022-1. In some cases the cadaver will be too damaged or decomposed to successfully exit SCP-022 or even rise from the table it lies on. In this case, SCP-022-1 will typically struggle and twitch on the table until expiration occurs. Should an instance of SCP-022-1 expire while remaining on the table, the table slides back into the drawer, which then shuts. Reports indicate that the scent of burnt tissue is evident immediately following such an event.

The energy source that sustains instances of SCP-022-1 is currently unknown. Instances do not breathe, eat, or sleep, and their bodies produce no heat. Analysis of SCP-022-1 following expiration has discovered no abnormal organs or chemicals present; they appear to be fully human cadavers.

Instances also possess physical strength that exceeds that of normal humans. Though direct testing has proven problematic, researchers estimate the strength increase to be approximately 500 N (112 lb) of lifting force greater than what one would expect of a human body sharing a similar condition. Analysis is underway to determine if this effect is connected to the unknown power source or if it is an entirely separate phenomenon.

When body parts are severed from SCP-022-1, the portion with the greatest mass retains its effects; all other pieces become inert. Destruction of the head or brain does not neutralize SCP-022-1; instead, the lower torso and limbs remain animate. Complete tissue destruction appears to be the only method of successfully terminating instances of SCP-022-1. Left alone, instances of SCP-022-1 will simply expire; all motion ceases and they appear to become normal cadavers again. The amount of time this takes depends on how damaged the body is and the rate of decomposition, and can take anywhere between two days and three weeks.

Investigation has revealed that the bodies acting as SCP-022-1 match the description of cadavers reported to have been stolen from morgues across the country. The mechanism for this transfer is currently being researched.

Adding any new matter to SCP-022 has thus far proved impossible. Any object that enters SCP-022 disappears shortly after passing through the door, leaving no trace. This includes inanimate objects and biological specimens. See Addendum 022-002.

So long as an instance of SCP-022-1 possesses a functioning mouth, tongue, and trachea, it is able to communicate fully with researchers. See Interview Log 022-751 for details.

Addendum 022-001: A request has been submitted to create a new entrance to SCP-022 by removing a portion of the South wall. Request pending approval.

Addendum 022-002: A pile of matter was discovered on the floor of the room directly above SCP-022. It appeared to contain all matter that had been sent into SCP-022, with the exception of humans. All materials appeared broken and worn down. Metallic components were covered in large amounts of rust, with all biological parts being in various stages of decomposition. Testing revealed that the time between inserting an object into SCP-022 and it reappearing above to be precisely 183 seconds. Humans who enter, however, do not appear in said pile. Instead, humans appear to become integrated into the morgue, and may later animate as instances of SCP-022-1.

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

Interview Log 022-751

Each of the following interviews begins in much the same way; the instance of SCP-022-1 will typically be hysterical until Foundation personnel are able to calm/restrain them. These portions have been omitted.

Date: March █, 198█

Interviewee: SCP-022-1-2

Interviewer: Dr. ██████

Notes: SCP-022-1-2 was the second instance of SCP-022-1 that the Foundation discovered, the first having been destroyed on sight by Foundation agents. SCP-022-1-2 had the body of an Asian male, approximately 54 years old. Its chest had been stitched up, evidence of an autopsy.

[BEGIN LOG]

Dr. ██████: Please identify yourself.

SCP-022-1-2: My…my name is John █████████. What…what the hell is going on?

Dr. ██████: That's what we're trying to figure out, John. How did you get to this… state?

SCP-022-1-2: I… I don't know. I was driving my car… coming home from…never mind. I was driving, and I crashed.

Dr. ██████: Then what happened?

SCP-022-1-2: Nothing! I woke up here! Please…this has to be [unintelligible].

Dr. ██████: So you remember being in a car accident, then woke up here in the morgue? Do you have any idea how you got here?

SCP-022-1-2: I didn't get here! Don't you get it! This isn't me! I'm not me!

Dr. ██████: What do you mean, "you aren't you"?

At this point SCP-022-1-2 became severely agitated and had to be physically restrained. This required six agents, due to the strength increase associated with instances of SCP-022-1. Eventually SCP-022-1-2 was calmed and the interview proceeded.

Dr. ██████: Now, would you please explain what you meant?

SCP-022-1-2: This. Is. Not. Me. I saw my reflection in the steel. I'm not some old Asian fuck! This isn't me!

[END LOG]

Following the last statement, SCP-022-1-2 began to smash its head against the wall. Once further restrained, it began to scream unintelligibly for several hours before falling silent. It continued to struggle, though apparently unable to speak, for an additional six days until it finally ceased motion. During this time it continued decomposing at a natural rate. An examination of the body following this interview was unable to determine a cause of death, as many of the internal organs had been removed. The only injury that did not appear to be a result of a previous surgery/autopsy was a damaged trachea.

Date: March █, 198█

Interviewee: SCP-022-1-5

Interviewer: Dr. ██████

Notes: SCP-022-1-5 animated shortly after D-5619 was sent into SCP-022 and subsequently disappeared. SCP-022-1-5 had the body of an approximately 12-year-old female, missing its right arm and a large portion of its torso. Following the incident with SCP-022-1-3, all instances of SCP-022-1 are physically restrained before being introduced to valuable personnel, with SCP-022-1-5 being no exception.

[BEGIN LOG]

Dr. ██████: Please state your name.

SCP-022-1-5: What did you bastards do to me?

Dr. ██████: Please state your name.

SCP-022-1-5: What the fuck did you do to me?!

Dr. ██████: We have done nothing to you, now please state your name.

SCP-022-1-5: You know who I fucking am!

Dr. ██████: Refresh my memory then, please.

SCP-022-1-5: I'm the guinea pig you just fucked up. Don't tell me you forgot me, Dr. Asshole.

Dr. ██████: …are you D-5619?

SCP-022-1-5: In the flesh. And for your information, jackass, my name is [REDACTED]! Now change me back you son of a bitch! Change me fucking back!

[END LOG]

At this point Dr. ██████ asked SCP-022-1-5 several questions to verify its identity. Though its identity was confirmed to be that of D-5619, no further useful information was gained from SCP-022-1-5. It was kept in a holding cell until expiring two days later. After three weeks, the body of D-5619 animated as SCP-022-1-7. In a brief interview with SCP-022-1-7, it claimed to be an 89-year-old female.

============

[The voice of Dr. ██████ was provided by Brittany ██████.] [The voice of SCP-022-1-2 was provided by @phinnsy.] [The voices of the Agents were provided by Breck █████ and @ryanvoid.] [The voice of SCP-022-1-5 was provided by Spera Crinis.]

[thechroniclesofwriting]

Right

I have things to say about the Winchesters being slightly terrifying.  Y’all ready for an entire essay? Strap in kiddies, I’m procrastinating a thesis and slightly tipsy. 

Firstly. Even in height, the Winchesters exceed normality. I want you to consider how high the average interior doorway is. Seriously, go look at your nearest doorway. Pretty high, right? Google tells me it’s 6″6. Dean stands at 6″1, while Sam is 6″3. So, Sam is less than an iPhone away from hitting his head on the top of your average doorway. And unlike NBL, AFL, whatever you national sport acronym is, players, they aren’t just tall. No. Both men are made of muscle. 

For reference, a normal man, no, a skinny teenager, could incapacitate me; female, 5″2, 120 pounds. My 5″11, 21 y-o brother can nullify my most persistent attack in about point two of a second, and continue a discussion at the same time. Imagine what a Winchester could do.

Having said that, one of the Australian Jiu jitsu champions is a dude who spent most of his life shorter than me; I should know, I went to both primary and high school with him. Watching him incapacitate opponents several times his size is a work of art. (Do not tell him I said that). Now imagine that same training in a man double his size. In fact, in two men, trained from a very young age.

Secondly, Sam and Dean fight for a living, where the living is literally ‘living or dying’. If they lose, they die. Violently and painfully. I don’t know about you, but I’d have to be pretty fucking confident that I was going to win a fight if I was going to put my life on the line. So to Hunt, per se, as a living, you are a) very physically strong and b) confident as fuck. 

Confidence is often touted as an attractive quality. Which it is, and Dean and Sam are both incredibly attractive (what nothing). But imagine that confidence being lethal. I don’t know about you, but I generally find lethal intent a little terrifying. Just saying. SO you have these two, very tall men, who work in a unit, who are very well trained, walk a diner, with the soul purpose of finding someone, and killing them. So you have these men who will use everything from charm to straight up, Geneva Convention banned torture, to get their information. Seriously, they break all of the agreements of the United Nations Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment  (UNCAT). 

Thirdly. Vampires, ghosts, shapeshifters, werewolves and demons. Things of myth and legend. The questions that the Winchesters have to ask to determine whether their case is supernatural or just humans-murdering-each-other are mad.  I don’t know about you, but if a dude ask me if I felt ‘cold patches’ in a room, I would straight up tell them ‘yeah around you’ and leave. Who is interested in answering those questions, FBI or not? Guys c’mon. I know it varies from person to person, but how difficult is it to convince someone of a mystical force? And how many people would thoroughly believe that said force might be benevolent? How many would make it God and how many would make it science? And, how many would make it a mental institution? So here we have two grown, confident. trained and intimidating men spouting mystical crap while running around in a Chevvy full of guns? Idk about you, but in this situation, I’d probably favour Chuck’s response.

Fourthly, we are currently in our 14th season. Now, some say we’re beating a dead horse. I say, that’s at least 14 YEARS of Sam and Dean being well renowned, death defying, universe saving, legendary hunters. They show up, other hunters are surprised, they have things to say. In their field, they are essentially Bill Gates (okay no but you get the point). Now to be that hunter, to be that good, you have to spend a good portion of time training. Their Dad raised them in this life, albeit abusively. But do you remember Samuel’s little test for Dean in season 5? ‘Do you kill a Vamp with a wooden or silver stake?’ HA. When was the last time Vamps were the real problem in a SPN episode? I’d imagine that the Winchesters are the cautionary tale that monsters tell their kids. To plagiarise John Wick - he’s not boogey man. He’s the one you send to kill the boogey man. They’re the shadows behind the curtain, the monsters in the closet. Their body count is higher than they are. If the Winchesters arrive, you know it’s universe threatening. 

Fifthly, not only are they renowned and feared hunters who have travelled through time, space, heaven, hell, probably Tartarus and Jahannam, they are also privvy to information that was not widely known to most hunters. Remember that Mary, in 1978, didn’t really know what Angels were? She was 23 and had been raised by a feared hunter. These two have fought against Lucifer, God, God’s weird sister, etc etc. They’re approaching 40 and really very little fazes either of them. You could stab a Winchester and they’d be like ‘good shot can you call Rowenna’. Most of their big bad’s? They befriended later. ‘Oh yeah Crowley we kept you prisoner for a bit but no welcome bring your mom, we’ll help you’. So now we have upbringing, physical strength, training, confidence (and a damn good track record of, y’know, not dying/coming back to life). 

SO FINALLY lets talk genetics. On one side, we have hunters, and the other, the Men of Letters. So overall, two fairly ferocious families. But Mary kills me every time, mostly because of the excellent casting of young Mary. She is so, so Dean. The first time she meets Dean, she confronts him. She’s maybe 19, while Dean at the time would have been approximately 30. I’m 23, and I run from 16 year olds. But she confronts him, and matches him blow for blow. THEN LATER in 78 (so she’s my age, and I’m still fleeing from high school boys) fights an ANGEL and mostly, bests her. 

So we’ve got Mary, the born and bred hunter. But then we have John, Pretty, naive John, who is thoroughly offended that he’s treated as useless, which frankly tells us a lot about him. Where Sam and Dean try to protect their naive father of the horrors of the life that befell them (by his hands), John is forceful in proving his worth. He won’t shy from protecting Mary, and you can see how that might ferment into revenge. That sheer determination; it’s so Sam. You can argue with me, but as a law student, I can tell you that nothing but sheer, cold, logic, like the kind we see in John in 5x13 gets you into Stanford Law. Maybe that’s why he and John clashed so much, and why Sam was so compassionate to Henry; maybe that’s why Dean tolerated his dad more than Sam did. Sam did have a mom, and it was Dean. Because Mary is so upset, so affected by her family, and would’ve protected them at any cost. Like Dean does. (Also I like to imagine Dean being like Samuel, if and when he has a child.). Nature, per se, has given them all the tools to become thoroughly terrifying human beings.

So we have training, confidence, knowledge, experience and genetics. Ladies and gentlemen, I presently to you my thesis on why Sam and Dean Winchester are not people you ever want to encounter.

[spacebunniis]

meta topic: Yexia and how she changes over the course of the story :3c (i know i already Know This but i love it a lot and i think it deserves to be OUT THERE ON YOUR BLOG !!!) ♥

you are the bessssttt ;;U;;❤️❤️❤️❤️

prepare for a LOT

I HAVE

SO MANY FEELINGS ABOUT YEXIA AND HOW SHE GROWS AND CHANGES

uhhh under a cut because even I wrote more than I expected to

alright here is angry nightmare child’s growth to semi-decent tough girl with a good(ish) heart

let’s start! all the way at the beginning!

Yexia is the 5th of 6 siblings, and the clear favorite  of her parents because she’s the strongest (physically, and more importantly, in the force). It’s not exactly a favoritism that is rewarded with anything other than her parents at least do praise her versus the cold indifference (or sometimes disdain) her parents show to her siblings. They still push her to be stronger, and only encourage her to push herself, to go far, and make it obvious that she’s only successful if she has something to show for it. She’s the one who is going to carry their family name, who is not only going to hold their prestige, but raise up their legacy, make their family name better. Yexia and her siblings are all regularly encouraged to fight each other to ‘improve’ their skills, and they do not hold back. At a fairly young age Yexia has a spar against her force-blind sister Izhae, and leaves half of Izhae’s face covered in a burn scar. (sidenote that I don’t know if I’ve talked about before - instead of base game abilities, I always imagine Yexia’s force abilities being more fire based, to match her…explosive…personality  :’D ) This isn’t the only time she leaves scars on her siblings (granted, she’s also got quite a few from them).

By the time she arrives as an apprentice at Korriban she is well and truly awful. She’s her parents favorite, so she’s nothing but a cocky, overconfident asshole. She thinks she’s the best, and she deserves whatever she wants just because she’s so great. There’s not a lot of people who get along with Yexia because she’s hard to get along with. She’s blunt, and not in the good way - it’s just plain rudeness. Yexia delighted in tormenting and taunting others, because that’s how you show you’re better than them. Whatever she’s doing she rushes in with blind surety and recklessness because of course she knows what’s best, of course she can take down anything and anyone.

However, as an apprentice she’s also faced with, for the first time, realizing that everything isn’t going to come easy to her, it’s not all going to be handed to her. It’s not that she isn’t strong, she is, but in what is news to her, so are plenty of other people. There’s plenty of other strong force-users, some who even rival or exceed her. But she has to be the best, and her instinct in the face of this is just to get angrier, and more reckless, and just be more of an asshole in the quest to prove she’s the strongest.

One of the first things that begins changing her world view is Vette, who really is the first to both not be afraid of Yexia AND not to immediately just (rightfully) hate Yexia for being so insufferable. The two of them working together, and Yexia having to rely on Vette for something she can’t do starts to make Yexia reconsider some things. And also you know, first ever friend! Yay! So Vette is able to put up with Yexia’s assholery, give some of it back, and still be enjoyable and nice and well…it feels good to have a relationship with someone that’s based on anything that isn’t hate or rivalry. Yexia doesn’t really know what to do with herself (which does lead to her falling back on just saying rude or angry shit when she’s overwhelmed/doesn’t know how to correctly process feelings).

And of course next, one of the most important factors, naturally, is Azhiera. Apart from being forced to work together, Yexia is drawn to Azhiera for many reasons, just many she can’t exactly figure out at first. For one, she is definitely attracted to her, but doesn’t even realize that until MUCH. MUCH LATER. But also at the beginning I think, she’s a little afraid of Azhiera to be honest. Azhiera is strong, and in the face of a lot more obstacles than Yexia has ever had to face. Even not knowing Azhiera’s entire history, she is still an alien (and a chiss at that) at the academy. And like Vette, Azhiera is never really intimidated by Yexia, which definitely throws her off. This small, sassy, blueberry just refuses to be intimidated, and actually messes with Yexia. Azhiera sasses Yexia back, “accidentally” zaps her, and Yexia gets angry but always comes up short of actually doing anything more than being all bark and no bite at responding to whatever Azhiera is doing.

The more they work together the more Yexia realizes she likes Azhiera, and that, in a weird way they are friends. But she has no way of … properly conveying that, or conveying how important Azhiera is to her with words so it comes out more through actions. She’s always a shield between Azhiera and enemies, she tries to say nice things even if it usually comes out weirdly phrased, in a yell, or roundabout way.

She also begins talking more about feelings with Vette because Vette (mostly) doesn’t make fun of her. The relationship she ends up having with Vette is, Yexia eventually realizes, the kind of relationship most siblings have. They bicker, they tease each other, but at the end of the day they have each other’s backs. They don’t try to one up each other, she doesn’t feel like she has to be better than Vette - they’re equals. And she starts seeing Azhiera as an equal too (or, honestly maybe placing her above a little bit, not that she’d ever admit it but she’s pretty damn smitten).

Which, as cliché as it is, also contributes to her growth. Finding something other than anger as a passion, something like love, a desire to protect her friends and found family - that really pushes her to finally start thinking beyond herself. She (as long as it took) finally begins to realize the ways everyone she encounters has a whole life, their own passions and goals, and that she could never be the best at everything. Everyone has their own strengths - and for the longest time she was only using her strength in the pursuit to become stronger and nothing more. She is still a pretty brutal Sith, and still works her way up in the Empire, but she’s not quite as unforgiving, she’s more willing to show mercy rather than brutally end anyone who crosses her.

(I still haven’t finished warrior’s story though know most of it so bare with me as I skip ahead to expansions!)

Later on she ends up working as Linalae’s right-hand officer (whatever that position is?? idk), because by the time they’re facing Valkorion and Arcann, Yexia is a much more mature person. She still uses her outside voice more than often, is quick to anger and often very intimidating but she’s better at stepping back and actually evaluating situations, in actually giving fair responses to situations. She’s also finally able to take orders from others, and recognize someone like Linalae as a good leader, and someone worth following. (Begrudgingly she also becomes something of a squad 'leader’ for a group of blueberries that has until now been Vette and Azhiera, is joined by my inquisitor Ziseshis, and eventually any other blue babe in the alliance who realizes, they can all kind of stand behind her and let her take all the damage for them, even if she complains and yells about it, she’s gonna protect them).

And, to come full circle, let’s end with family too!! By the time she’s in the alliance she’s lost contact with all her siblings. It’s not like they were ever close to begin with. But she does return home one last time to formally let her parents know she’s not carrying on the family name the way they want her to. At this point she’s lost an arm (that’s a story for another time!), and she tells her parents she’s in love with Azhiera, a chiss, and she doesn’t plan on returning home ever again. Needless to say her parents are furious, and rather than yell or explode at her Yexia just, finally receives the cold indifference they had been giving to all her other siblings. She’s just ignored. So she leaves and returns to her real family.

Eventually out of morbid curiosity she asks Linalae to check in on her sister Izhae. All Yexia knows about her is that she was in the military, since it was her only way of proving any strength. Linalae discovers Izhae also became a Cipher Agent, however, is listed as KIA. It’s not something Yexia can cry over, or even feel a deep sadness over, but it still stirs up something more now than it would’ve in the past. She at least wishes she could’ve apologized to Izhae, for a lot of things. However, she does get the chance to apologize to one of her siblings. When she and her siblings came of age, it was her family’s tradition to send them out to face a large and hard to take down beast as a right of passage (how Yexia got the scars on her face). It is expected that they defeat the monster and return, or die in battle (because coming back without defeating the beast would be unthinkable). Her sister Jaeyi never returned from the fight, and was presumed dead when Yexia was incredibly young. She was used as an example of how Yexia and her siblings shouldn’t be weak, of what not to be. Jaeyi was brutally injured facing the beast, but in her nearly last moments she became so fearful for her death that she was able to drag herself to freedom, far away from the beast before collapsing. She was discovered and healed, and eventually found herself among Jedi who wanted her to join them. Her upbringing and this experience made Jaeyi an incredibly fearful and meek person, bad at standing up for herself, scared of her own shadow, but still trying her best to prove her worth among the Jedi - to prove that saving her was worth it. Still, she never fit in that well, and didn’t feel she was particularly strong or worth while. And since I’ve already rambled enough about Jaeyi on accident - the long story short is, Yexia ends up finding Jaeyi and bringing her back to the Alliance, where Jaeyi is welcomed and slowly begins to fit in. The two of them have a lot to rebuild in their relationship; when Yexia finds Jaeyi, Jaeyi is terrified Yexia will drag her back to their parents or kill her on the spot. It takes a long time for Jaeyi to stop being scared of Yexia. But she gets to watch the way Yexia interacts with everyone, how Yexia has respect and people listen to her, but they don’t respect or listen to her out of fear - Yexia’s actually earned it.

Overall, by the end Yexia is still rough, and speaks somewhat crudely, and jumps to conclusions or actions too quickly a lot of the time. She still yells a lot, and isn’t always good at expressing genuine emotions, or saying nice things. But, underneath all that she is pretty sweet - she genuinely tries to help her friends, she definitely does everything she can to protect what and who she believes is worth protecting. She learns how to step back and assess situations, how to do things that will benefit her and others, she learns how sometimes she needs to put the needs of others before herself. And she’s also pretty good at giving those back-breaking, lifted off the ground hugs.

So that’s !! A lot on Yexia :’D a very angry tomato. I love her so much and to anyone who reads all this thank you so much????? i have lots of thoughts and feelings and so much i wanna write for her and idk if i even conveyed everything properly but ;v; here’s a big long wall of words and love!! TvT

[trevaleyn]

Robbed of Justice

Fire all around.

Ulysses heart thumped rapidly inside his chest as his next breath was singed with smoke. How many wars had he been in? How many demons, undead, cultists, horde and everything in between? This level of wanton carnage and destruction, not even Deathwing had done this and he certainly had the ability.

He heard a scream to his left.

Body struggling to move as his muscles still burned with his last burst of exertion. It was then he felt a sharp pain in his mouth as he had been checked by a shield, the sound of metal striking metal as another jarring pain was felt in the right side of his ribcage. The paladin had just survived an attack on his life, his armor deflecting a Forsaken lightslayer’s sword that had collided with his armor. He growled as he turned to face the gaunt figure, an eager Forsaken recruit ready to prove himself to the dark lady by hoping to kill a seasoned soldier in this battle. Ulysses made his death quick but still painful, a hand raising as the light overwhelmed whatever wards the undead had against it, his body shrouded in unnatural shadow fpr just a moment as he tried to resist before bursting into holy fire as he was immolated into a charred husk within three seconds.

Wiping at his now sore jaw Ulysses dashed into the inn of Lor’danel where he had heard said screams coming from, looking around he spotted an elven citizen cornered by a tauren on the ramp between the first and second floors that acted as an overlook with a perfect view of Teldrassil. 

Giving a warcry the paladin dashed forward. Ulysses was an older man, almost fifty eight, but his strength had yet to leave him, with the recent discovery of Azerite and his refocusing on the light he was able to match and sometimes exceed the strength of other naturally stronger races. His body surging with the light he leaped and threw both legs forward. The horde legionarre turning around just in time for both of Ulysses heels to bury in his chain coated gut, the paladin kicked like a mustang and the sheer force knocked the Tauren off the overlook into an uncomfortable landing in the waters below. He wouldn’t die, but he wouldn’t be a problem any longer either. Though when Ulysses turned to face the elven citizen expecting a look of astonishment or relief at being saved, instead he saw a look of abject horror on her face. An orange light reflecting in her gaze.

No. No. They couldn’t...

Azerite firebombs used on the World tree itself, Ulysses had glanced over just in time to see the third bomb collide with the purple hardwood of the Teldrassil’s bark. The World tree had been set aflame. It was a matter of seconds that another salvo of bombs launched and the world tree would fully begin to burn. 

Anger. Wrath. Vengeance.

Such impulses and thoughts surged through the paladin with what he witnessed,  “We need to go. There’s a boat in the harbor, it’s a small enough sloop we can get past the Horde Blockade! We need to go now though!” The paladin exclaimed, he ushered the elven survivor out of the building, finding another cluster of Alliance civilians as well as a pair of soldiers holding their ground for against an orc. Twelve of them in total, it was a bit much but they could sail Northeast towards Moonglade and travel down through the mountains, the elves would survive even if Teldrassil didn’t.  Ulysses would recall later how silent and haunting the trip was.

No elf, no soldier, no voice at all dared to speak for a long time as they put distance between themselves and the burning Teldrassil. Only when it had become a dark, smokey orange blot on the horizon would Ulysses consider speaking to these lucky few. The light had granted him the abilities of an empath though it didn’t takes such abilities to feel the hearts of those around him be wounded and harden. He could feel there loss, there mourning, there disbelief, there sense of betray and confusion and fear and anger that came with it all.

“The Horde will not get away with this,” Ulysses said with a core of steel in his words. He lofted his hands, a blessing of strength and endurance washing over all of those on the boat, not to lessen their pain but to fortify there resolve. “The journey to justice is a long one. You will need the power of the light. This was an attempt to break the Alliance. To break the elven people. You will bend, but you will not break, not to her and not to them.” The paladin speaking that last word with a newfound venom towards the Horde. They couldn’t control Garrosh, how could they control Sylvanas? Horde honor was weak. Horde muscle was weak. 

Only the light and the blades of the Alliance could stop the Horde now. Just for a moment, the image of that Forsaken who had attacked him sat in his mind, the very instant he burst into flames, the anguished cry of pain and the realization of death that came with it.

For the Alliance.

Ulysses would exact justice for this, and if not justice, at the very least he would exact vengeance.

[orbemnews]

Mentors are great. But a sponsor could really help your career Although much has been said about mentorship, sponsors can advance your career in a way that mentors can’t. And while the two are often confused, there are distinct differences. In a mentorship, a more experienced person gives guidance to a more junior person. In a sponsorship, a more senior person proactively invests social capital and clout in a more junior person, according to Sylvia Ann Hewlett, economist and author of The Sponsor Effect. Sponsors can get you noticed both inside and outside of your company, create opportunities that help you progress more quickly and give you confidence and courage to take risks. For example, a sponsor can directly recommend you for a promotion, get you placed on an important work project and, in some cases, even help you secure your first board seat. So how can you attract and attain a potential sponsor in the workplace? These tips can help: Demonstrate your value It starts with you. Attracting a sponsor requires that you perform at your highest level. Be reliable and consistent, meet deadlines and strive to exceed expectations and deliver great results. By performing well at work, you’re demonstrating your value and potential — both qualities that will help attract a sponsor. You’re also proving to a potential sponsor that they can feel comfortable about putting their own reputation on the line and advocate for you. “It’s all about continuing to deliver performance, trustworthiness and contributing a value add that will win you support over the long haul,” Hewlett said. Take inventory of your assets Take into account what you’ve accomplished and what you hope to achieve in the future. A sponsor can’t help you if you can’t clearly identify your strengths and abilities, but more importantly your goals. Knowing what your goals are helps your sponsor match you for the best opportunities. Hewlett suggests scheduling a 15-minute chat with a potential mentor or sponsor to present your assets and goals. “This can spark driving value together. The hallmark of a successful sponsorship relationship,” she said. Ask them to be your mentor first and then — by delivering trustworthiness and a value add — you can eventually turn this person into a proactive sponsor, she added. Raise your hand for opportunities Visibility at work is extremely important. It’s not enough to just keep your head down and get your work done. You want to get noticed. That can be challenging while working remotely, but there are ways to do this. “Create space for connection in lieu of the more impromptu nature of being in-person or in the office,” said Christie Lindor, founder and CEO of Tessi Consulting. “Geographic boundaries are no longer a barrier and social media has created the ability to directly access more people than ever before. Take advantage of this unique time and use this moment to think big and reach out wide.” Some ways to do this include attending virtual events, participating in discussions during team meetings, contributing to a bigger project or taking on a “stretch assignment.” Stretch assignments are usually a project, role or task that is beyond your skill level or expertise. The purpose of these assignments is to help “stretch” your development and unlock your potential. Some examples might include managing an intern, organizing an event or launching a new product. “Think about who knows you and your work, or who may have heard about you. Authenticity is key when it comes to fostering sponsor relationships,” she said. “Ask a supportive mentor or ally for stretch opportunities in your target sponsor’s line of sight.” Identify potential sponsors Knowing what type of sponsor you are seeking and why is important to figure out up front. Lindor recommends creating a short list of one to three leaders in your organization or industry that you would like to attract as a sponsor. From there, develop a strategy to have a line of sight or visibility for your list of prospective sponsors. You can do this by identifying opportunities to speak or work with a prospective sponsor directly, such as participating in events they’ll be attending or working on a team they may be leading. Then, research and learn about any common interests and values you may share with them. Remember to be intentional. “Be able to answer the question, ‘why do I want this person to sponsor me?’ While considering someone because of their star or celebrity status might be enticing, seek genuine connection points instead,” she said. Build relationships Make sure you’re building the relationships within your organization or industry for a sponsorship opportunity to develop. For example, your sponsor could be your manager or your manager’s manager — perhaps even someone higher up or in a different department. “Many of us are working remotely and having difficulty connecting with people other than those we are in direct work contact with on a daily basis,” said Toni Patterson, a career mentor and strategist. “It’s a great excuse to reach out to someone to say: ‘had we been in the office I would have loved to pop my head in and introduce myself, but since that’s not possible in this time, can we meet online for a 20-minute coffee?’ Once you have them on the phone you need to let them know what you do, what you aspire to do and that you are willing to stretch and challenge yourself in order to do it.” But don’t get discouraged. If you reach out to someone and they don’t seem interested in supporting you, know that “no” may mean “not right now,” Patterson said. “Focus on creating and building relationships. With time, you will find the right person to be your sponsor.” Follow up and stay top of mind Your success is your sponsor’s legacy. So don’t forget to toot your own horn. “Manage the relationship in line with your sponsor’s working styles or organizational culture, learn how they prefer to communicate and adjust to maximize interactions,” Lindor said. It’s also your responsibility to make your sponsor look good and nurture the relationship by doing your best work. And don’t forget to follow up. “Once you are given that stretch assignment, promotion or whatever your sponsorship relationship helped you achieve, make sure you keep your sponsor apprised of how it’s going,” Patterson said. Source link Orbem News #career #Great #Mentors #Mentorsaregreat.Butasponsorcouldreallyhelpyourcareer-CNN #sponsor #success

[mechanicswichita]

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The Medium-duty Basics Medium-duty tow trucks’ petite size creates an unmatchable ease of maneuverability, allowing for the retrieval of vehicles stuck in even the most confining situations. The strength of its tow and recovery power exceeds the industry standard, reinforcing the invaluable characteristics that medium-duty tow trucks provide to our fleet.

Getting The Job Done Medium Duty Towing Service near Wichita, KS: Equipped with a modern, wheel-system design, medium-duty tow trucks specialize in eliminating all tow truck and vehicle contact, except for the rubber on the vehicle’s tires. This design allows for a vehicle to be lifted off of the ground by securing either the front-two or back-two wheels, which are then suspended in the air. The other two wheels remain in contact with the road, to provide towing assistance throughout the vehicle’s transportation process.

Which Vehicles Are Medium-duty Worthy? Medium Duty Towing Service near Wichita, KS: When maneuverability is key, medium-duty tow trucks are crucial servicing a wide array of vehicles, including: ● Small fleet vehicle towing, such as FedEx or UPS ● Delivery truck towing, such as bread trucks or walk-ins ● Class C motorhomes ● Camper or recreational vehicle towing ● Commercial breakdown assistance ● One-ton vehicles, box trucks, utility trucks ● Cut-away vehicles, including buses, shuttles, delivery trucks ● Large ball hitch trailers

Medium duty towing and recovery trucks Due to its small size, the medium duty tow truck can be effortlessly maneuvered and, therefore, it can be used to easily recover vehicles stuck within very confined space.

How It Works Equipped with an ultramodern wheel-system design, these trucks are specialized to eliminate all tow trucks and vehicle contact, other than the rubber on vehicle’ tire. Such trucks can lift a vehicle off the surface by securing either the front or the rear pair of wheels, which can then be suspended freely in the air. The remaining two wheels can be left in contact with the ground, which gives towing assistance to the vehicle during transportation.

Which Vehicles Require Medium-Duty? Medium Duty Towing Service near Wichita, KS: The medium duty towing trucks prove crucial due to their superior maneuverability and, therefore, they can be used for services a wide array of vehicles, such as: ● Commercial breakdown assistance ● One-ton vehicles, utility trucks, and box trucks ● Cut-away vehicles, such as shuttles, buses, and delivery trucks ● Large ball hitch trailers ● Recreational or camper vehicle towing ● Class C motorhomes ● Small fleet vehicle towing, including FedEx or UPS ● Delivery truck towing, including bread trucks or walk-ins Medium duty towing and recovery services may be used for providing the following services: ● Winch Out ● Pulling automobiles, farm equipment, and light vehicles, or other containers, vessels or automobile out of a spot or other ditches were a vehicle might be stuck ● Pick & drops ● Stabilize trucks & automobiles ● Pull trucks & automobiles over embankments ● Water recovery from rivers, streams, and lakes for equipment, trucks, and automobiles ● Off road recovery ● Broken down automotive vehicles ● Medium duty Roadside Repair ● Roll over trucks & automobiles

Get Quote on Medium Duty Towing in Wichita, KS Medium Duty Towing Service near Wichita, KS: Call A1 Mobile Mechanics Of Wichita with your details for a free estimate. Customer service is important to us and we do our very best to provide our customers with the best Medium Duty towing in Wichita, KSand the surrounding areas. We are always looking to gain new business and willing to take on any job to help our customers with their needs. Feel free to contact us to speak with us about starting a continuing commercial account or even for private towing needs.

We tow for business, motor clubs, dealerships, and individuals that will complement our focus on customer service. Our Towing company is a complete towing service that can take care of any towing need. We offer Light Duty, Medium Duty in Wichita, KSand surrounding areas. Our company is licensed and fully insured. Our drivers are experienced, friendly, and are required to take continuing education on towing courses yearly as well as drug tested. If your vehicle needs towing, we are available for all emergency towing in Wichita, KSand will do our very best to help you in any situation. Our trained operators are capable of helping retrieve your vehicle no matter the reason. COST Medium Duty Towing Rates Medium Duty Towing Service near Wichita, KS: A1 Mobile Mechanics Of Wichita offers truck towing, or also referred to as medium duty towing options to the locals of the Wichita, KSsurrounding areas. Saving you time and money, A1 Mobile Mechanics Of Wichita medium duty fleet is billed at medium duty prices; as opposed to the many towing providers will dispatch heavy duty wreckers for medium duty towing to increase fees. Vehicles over 26,001 to 49,999 lbs. are in the heavy duty category, medium duty vehicles are 10,001lbs to 26,000lbs; some medium duty vehicles may require a larger truck to tow them, depending on the equipment installed on the truck. Vehicle Towing Capacity Chart A1 Mobile Mechanics Of Wichita medium duty vehicles are classified under 3 classes; 4, 5 and 6, depending on their gross weight rating (GVWR); medium duty towing is recommended for the following: The Class 4 truck GVWR from 14,001 – 16,000 pounds. Vehicles in this class include select Ford F-450 trucks, the GMC 4500, and Dodge Ram 4500 for example. The Class 5 truck GVWR ranging from 16,001 to 19,500 pounds. Such examples of trucks in this class are the GMC 5500, International Terrassa, and the Ford F-550. The Class 6 truck GVWR that range between 19,501 to 26,000 pounds. These trucks in this class the GMC Top kick C6500, the Ford F-650, and International Durastar. You might be thinking about starting a tow truck business. Maybe you’ve been thinking about it for a while now, but you’ve got this question on your mind: how much do tow trucks cost? That’s a great question. The cost of a tow truck depends on the options that you choose for your truck. Most towing equipment is customized to suit the needs and convenience of the end user, and the choices that you make influence the tow truck cost. Depending on the options you choose, the cost of a typical tow truck can be anywhere between $58,000 and $850,000. Anyways, that’s our disclaimer. Below we have some typical pricing for different types of tow trucks. How much does a new tow truck cost? Like we said above, tow truck and wrecker costs can vary greatly. In the list below, we’ve got pricing for different classes of tow trucks so that you can get an idea of the difference in price between a light-duty, medium-duty, and heavy-duty tow truck. Class 4 (14,001-16,000 GVWR) and Class 5 (16,001 – 19,500 GVWR): Examples: Ram 4500 (Class 4) and Ford F-550 (Class 5) ● Light duty wheel lift with the body painted to match: $58,900 –  $ 72,500 (Gas/Diesel) ● Light duty 2-car carrier with a 19’ truck bed: $61,900 – $ 72,500 (Gas/Diesel) Class 6 (19,501 – 26,000 GVWR) and Class 7 (26,001 – 33,000 GVWR): Examples: Ford F-650 (Class 6) and Ford F-750 (Class 7) ● Medium 2-car carrier with a 21’ truck bed, standard removable rails:  $80,000 – $103,500 (depending on chassis) ● Medium wrecker, 12-ton – 20-ton with the body painted to match: $99,995 – $250,000 (cost depends on what kind of chassis the tow truck has) Class 8 (33,001-150,000 GVWR): Example: Tractor trailer ● Heavy standard wrecker, 25-ton – 100-ton with the body painted to match: $250,000 – $650,000 ● Rotator ultra-heavy-duty wrecker, 35-ton – 75-ton $499,000 – $850,000+ These values are priced as the dealer specified and ordered the truck, not as the end user ordered it. The price shows a tow truck with a regular cab chassis and factory appointments. The price also reflects standard equipment painted a single color to match. The pricing does not include extra accessories or bells and whistles. Another thing to keep in mind is that the chassis price can vary based on the manufacture and the specifications. How much does a used tow truck cost? Great question! The prices above are for new tow trucks. It is possible to save money buying a used tow truck, but that depends on a lot of factors. You have to consider depreciation the second you buy a used tow truck, the value goes down (although the same is true of a new tow truck.) Then there’s the quality of the tow truck to consider, meaning how well it has been maintained. If the tires and brakes are in good shape, the interior has been looked after, there’s no broken or cracked glass, the lighting and bed hydraulic system work, and there are no big dents, you’ll probably see a decent return on the investment in the used tow truck. And at the same time, you’ll save money. But again, it all depends on the used tow truck you’re looking at.

FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS How are light, medium and heavy duty tows classified? Generally anything under 10k lbs. is light, 10,001k – 26k is medium and everything above is heavy. Regular vehicles or trucks, like a Honda or Ford F-150, would be light. Vehicles like bobtails, U-Haul trucks or lunch trucks are medium. Buses, cement mixers, trash trucks, tractor trailers, etc. are heavy duty.

How long does it take for a tow truck to come after a call? We have a large staff of drivers that can leave the shop as soon as we get a call. However, our ETAs vary based on the current traffic conditions during the time of the call.

How do I pick-up my vehicle that was impounded? You may pick up your vehicle Monday - Friday, from 8am - 6pm. OPG impounds may be picked up Monday - Saturday from 7am - 7pm. All towing and impound fees must be paid at the time you are picking up your vehicle. If there is a hold on your vehicle, we cannot release it until you obtain a release form from the agency (CHP or LAPD) that impounded your vehicle. You must be the registered owner with a valid driver's license or have authorization from the registered owner.

What types of tow trucks does your company operate? We have a large fleet of mainly Peterbilt tow trucks ranging from light duty flatbeds to the city of LA's only 75-ton Rotator.

CALL FOR US: ● Medium Duty Towing Near Wichita, KS ● Heavy Duty Towing ● Box Truck Towing ● Heavy Duty Towing Services ● Medium Duty Tow Truck ● Tow Truck Near Wichita, KS ● Bus Towing ● Heavy Duty Tow Truck ● Heavy Duty Towing And Recovery Rates ● Towing Services Rates ● How Much Does A Flatbed Tow Truck Cost ● My Car Got Towed How Much Will It Cost Wichita, KS ● Medium Duty Wrecker Rates ● Towing Rates ● Hire A Tow Truck ● How Much Does It Cost To Tow A Bus ● Tow Truck ● Towing A Semi Truck ● How To Tow A Dump Truck Wichita, KS

BEST MEDIUM DUTY TOWING SERVICE IN WICHITA, KS A1 MOBILE MECHANICS OF WICHITA REQUEST MORE INFORMATION. CONTACT US NOW!

BEST TRUCK REPAIR SERVICE IN WICHITA KS A1 MOBILE MECHANICS OF WICHITA REQUEST MORE INFORMATION. CONTACT US NOW! Contact us: A1 Mobile Mechanics of Wichita 24-hour mobile mechanic roadside assistance services in Wichita, KS! CALL: (316) 201-9247 MOBILE MECHANIC WEBSITE: www.mobilemechanicwichitakansas.org Service Area: 55 Cities within 30 miles of Wichita, KS: Andale, KS | Andover, KS | Argonia, KS | Augusta, KS | Belle Plaine, KS | Bentley, KS | Benton, KS | Buhler, KS | Burns, KS | Burrton, KS | Cheney, KS | Clearwater, KS |Colwich, KS | Conway Springs, KS | Danville, KS | Derby, KS | Douglass, KS | Elbing, KS | Garden Plain, KS | Goddard, KS | Greenwich, KS | Halstead, KS | Harper, KS | Haven, KS | Haysville, KS | Hesston, KS | Hutchinson, KS | Kechi, KS | Maize, KS | Mayfield, KS | Mcconnell AFB, KS | Milan, KS | Milton, KS | Mount Hope, KS | Mulvane, KS | Murdock, KS | Newton, KS | North Newton, KS | Norwich, KS | Peck, KS | Potwin, KS | Pretty Prairie, KS | Rock, KS | Rose Hill, KS | Sedgwick, KS | South Hutchinson, KS | Towanda, KS | Udall, KS | Valley Center, KS | Viola, KS | Walton, KS | Wellington, KS | Whitewater, KS | Winfield, KS | Yoder, KS ZIP CODES: 67001 – Andale | 67016 – Bentley | 67017 – Benton | 67020 – Burrton | 67025 – Cheney | 67026 – Clearwater | 67030 – Colwich | 67031 – Conway Springs | 67037 – Derby | 67039 – Douglass | 67050 – Garden Plain | 67052 – Goddard | 67055 – Greenwich | 67060 – Haysville | 67067 – Kechi | 67101 – Maize | 67106 – Milton | 67108 – Mt Hope | 67110 – Mulvane | 67118 – Norwich | 67120 – Peck | 67133 – Rose Hill | 67135 – Sedgwick | 67147 – Valley Center | 67149 – Viola | 672xx – Wichita | 67204 – Park City or Wichita | 67219 – Park City or Wichita | 67220 – Bel Aire or Wichita | 67221 – McConnell AFB | 67226 – Bel Aire or Wichita | 67543 – Haven

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MODERN WARSHIPS: Sea Battle Online

MODERN WARSHIPS: Sea Battle Online

Game MODERN WARSHIPS: Sea Battle Online là dòng game Action

Giới thiệu MODERN WARSHIPS: Sea Battle Online

All hands prepare for battle!, The engine is on bridge control !,– these commands will give you the creeps, because you are the one who gives these orders to the entire warship. MODERN WARSHIPS: - this is the most realistic game on the theme of sea battles. The game will give you a super-realistic experience of participating in military battles. A lot of real accurate known warships are waiting for your instructions. Controlling all the weapons of your warship, sink the enemies, win the final victory. With beautiful and realistic graphics, as well as detailed warships, MODERN WARSHIPS will give all lovers of sea battles a realistic experience. Continuously improve your skills, strengthen or pick up the weapons of your ship. Fight alongside players from all over the world, test your strength with sea water and real-time PvP battles. Shoot at the enemy with missiles, torpedoes, use marine deck aircraft, support helicopters! This is not just a shooter, but a tactical battle on the sea battlefield! Feel like a commander of war ships of our time! More realism, action and sea salt water than in any other free online PvP game on warships ! COOL ONLINE PvP BATTLES PvP sea battles of the highest class-teams of players from all over the world on warships from all over the world. Prove that you are the best commander in this war game, and your fleet is invincible. DOZENS OF THE BEST SHIPS FROM ALL OVER THE WORLD Fight online PvP and pump up real warships. Full realism-all the ships are made according to the drawings of existing ships of different fleets of the world in compliance with their combat characteristics. TACTICAL SUPERIORITY Choose the warship that best suits your style of PvP battle. A heavy aircraft carrier, or the largest nuclear-powered missile cruiser-all these ships will be under your control. WEAPON OF OUR TIME Use all the weapons of the warship-torpedoes, missiles, machine guns, bomb throwers and the latest technology to perform combat tasks of the Navy. LARGE BASE OF WEAPONS AND IMPROVEMENTS Improve the combat characteristics of warships, equipment, and weapons. Develop ships and their capabilities with upgrades and improvements. Customize your weapons to your liking COMBAT CAPABILITIES OF THE WORLD'S BEST FLEETS Use the ships ' abilities for tactical advantage. Use aircraft for lightning strikes on the enemy, or long-range missiles to stay out of reach of the enemy. Or destroy the enemy closely using the maneuverability and driving qualities of the ship. DEVELOP AND IMPROVE YOUR FLEET Modernization of ships and weapons has an important role in achieving victory in naval battles. - DESTROY THE ENEMY WITH ALL AVAILABLE WEAPONS The fleet that destroyed the enemy fleet wins. In Alliance with the team, don't let the enemy win the sea battle. Capture the entire ocean! ADVANCED MATCHMAKING All sea battle matches are created automatically, just click on the "Go to battle" button. PvP teams will be selected and you can quickly start playing! THE MOST CONVENIENT MANAGEMENT Intuitive operation and assistance during the shooting. But to become a real commander, you need a skill! COOL REWARDS AND TOURNAMENTS Participate in weekly tournaments and win prizes and rewards for free! Complete daily tasks and challenges to get even more rewards! GREAT GRAPHICS The most modern graphics, special effects, beautiful arenas for sea battles and the irreplaceable military spirit of sea battles! HIGH DEGREE OF OPTIMIZATION Weak device? Nothing will prevent a real sea wolf from entering the sea battle! Ready for battle? Try the sea simulator MODERN WARSHIPS-a military shooter will exceed all expectations. For fans of PvP battles, the sea and all who love military and naval shooters. Big Update 0.43.8

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