#don't be modest copper

[malamiteltd]

Day 9 – I’m Not a Hero

Copper and Broom were sitting at one of the benches near the Pond. Broom was playing a game on an odd-looking handheld – it seemed to play the same cartridges as the console in the Game House – and Copper was watching over his shoulder, intrigued at the game being played. But soon they heard someone approaching, and the game was paused. It was Sketch and Heather, walking to a neighboring bench.

"Hey guys!" said Sketch, waving to the pair. "Everything alright?"

Broom and Copper waved back. "Everything's good!" Broom replied. He held up the handheld he was playing. "Just been checking out some of the games in that house. I found this in there and decided to try it out. Copper joined me not too long ago and he's been watching."

Copper nodded silently.

"I remember seeing devices kinda like that back in Utopia," said Sketch. "They do seem to need a lot of batteries to keep them running."

Broom nodded. "Most do. But I'm kinda surprised by this thing. Honestly, I've played on this for well over four hours and there's been no sign that the batteries are on low charge." He looked at the back of the handheld and suddenly looked confused. "Huh. It…doesn't even look like there's any battery compartment. But how does this thing work?"

Heather shrugged. "If it were me, I'd just chalk it up to the typical reason – this place is weird."

"Sounds good," said Copper. "So what brings you guys here?"

Sketch scratched at one of his eyebrows. "Well, Heather and I got acquainted with Broom the other day, and he used something called Clarity to kinda show us what he's all about, and learn about us in exchange."

Copper looked concerned. "Okay…"

"After that meet-up," Sketch continued, "I had been thinking about some of the stuff I saw in all those memories…and you were in a few of them, Copper."

"And we were kinda surprised at what we saw," Heather added. "There was a distinct memory where Broom and some large fella were trapped and unable to move, and right in front was you, facing a group of weird goopy aliens with dart guns of some kind!"

Copper started to blush. "I-I…"

"And you suddenly flicked away all their darts and dashed towards them, tearing away their guns and scaring them off! Was that really you?"

Broom was shocked. He turned to Copper. "Wait, you never told them about the abduction?!"

Copper looked away. "I…I didn't want to…"

"But why not?!" Broom exclaimed. "You were practically our hero! We weren't sure what was gonna happen to us after those aliens took us on their ship! You were pretty much the only one able to do anything!"

Copper looked a bit flustered. "Broom, please…"

"Not to mention those aliens captured so many others before! Since they abandoned the ship, it allowed authorities to investigate it and find the homeworld where the other captives were being experimented on! They probably wouldn't have survived all that, and thanks to you they were able to go back to their homes!"

Copper placed both hands atop his head, rubbing anxiously. "Broom! Please don't!"

Sketch and Heather were looking worried. "You okay, Copper?"

But Broom kept pouring on praise. "I honestly assumed you would've used that amazing speed to take one of the escape pods back home! But you stood your ground and terrified those creatures! You even broke us out of those capsules!"

Copper gritted his teeth, rubbing his head furiously. "STOP!!"

Broom looked shocked. "…Copper?"

Copper was breathing heavily for almost a minute. "…I'm not a hero."

The others were baffled.

"But…we saw what you did," Heather said to Copper. "I gotta say, it looked very impressive. You're not proud of what you did?"

"I…the…" Copper was struggling to speak at the moment. But after a minute he finally found the words. "…You don't…honestly think I did that just to be a hero."

Sketch scratched his head. "Not sure what you mean by that, bud."

Copper sighed. "I…I was panicking. A lot was happening to me since I got on that ship. I didn't know where I was, why I was locked up…my clothes were missing and I was with two strangers who were stuck in the same situation… 

He looked at his hands. "And then I was starting to realize my fervor, and I somehow unlocked my own cell door…the aliens knocked me out and strapped me to a chair, I was surrounded by scary…tools? Machines? I found a way to get out, and then I got cornered by the aliens while Broom and Husker were locked up tight in capsules behind me…

He started furiously rubbing his knees, looking to the ground. "I didn't know what to do…they started shooting at me, but the darts seemed to be going super-slow, I wasn't sure what was happening…I was getting upset! I…I don't know, I guess some instinct started piloting my brain and I was just charging head-on at those aliens. As soon as I got in one of their…faces?…I had to decide what to do… Killing them was definitely an option, but…I couldn't accept it! So I activated the ship's self-destruct program, if just to scare them away. And they were scared…they all ran to their escape pods and left the ship. After they did, I turned the self-destruct thing off and…I had to stop for a moment."

Broom patted Copper on the back. "Yeah, I guess it was all kinda overwhelming, huh? I suppose you couldn't have planned all that out considering…"

"But you did manage to pull through," added Sketch. "And you didn't kill anyone! That seems like the work of a hero to me."

"No!" Copper shook his head. "Once I began to learn what my fervor could do, it just seemed to cause more trouble!"

Broom was confused. "Wait, what do you mean?"

Copper turned to Broom with a mad look. "You're kidding! You don't remember what happened to you?!"

"What happened to–" Broom suddenly realized something. "Oh! Ohhhh…."

Heather tilted her head. "Wait, what are you guys talking about?"

Copper turned his attention to Sketch and Heather. "So…after the abduction, I was asked to undergo some tests to see what my fervor was capable of. They didn't really have any Teijru capable of doing such things before. And they made note of my abilities for…other purposes."

"Were they bad purposes?" asked Sketch.

"I mean…I don't think so. But those notes were probably the reason they approached me for what they called an 'important assignment.' Kheji had allies from Lir, a nearby planet in our system. They provided our world with a planetary barrier and other technology in exchange for mineral mining rights. Well, the allies were having difficulties with a criminal organization that was hacking into their funding, and they wanted that stopped one way or the other."

Heather looked surprised when hearing this. "This is starting to sound like some kind of espionage mission! You mean to tell me they sent you off to do that?!"

"Well, actually there was another guy, by the name of Graphite. He's the big hero of Kheji, with insane power. He thwarted a lot of hostile confrontations single-handedly, and spearheaded the charge against a space station that was planning to destroy the planet for resources to keep it alive. He was asked to do the mission, but they wanted me to go with him because the criminal group was stationed in some high-security place and they figured I could help Graphite get in with my abilities."

Sketch's eyes widened. "Wow."

"I'll admit, I was hesitant to accept the offer, even when they promised a decent reward for my assistance. But Graphite convinced me that I'd be safe, that nothing would happen to me. And…eventually I agreed. We went to the group's high-tech base and I helped Graphite get around the various locked doors and traps as we went to their main computer, where all the hacking was being done."

"Nice!" Sketch nodded. "And Graphite kept you safe the whole time?"

"Yeah…but as we were almost finished, Graphite got nabbed by a big robot-arm-thing. Not sure what it was for, maybe for construction or something…but in any case, the bad guys wanted to make sure Graphite didn't succeed in the mission. I was lucky not to have been spotted, but Graphite was getting squeezed by the big arm…and he looked like he was in excruciating pain. The bad guys stood by and watched him struggle…they even laughed at him once he started yelling in agony! I was panicking as I watched it all happen. Part of me wanted to run away, but Graphite's pained screams…I…

Copper let out a deep breath as he rubbed his head. "Well…I ended up placing both my hands on the main computer and just jolted the thing. And suddenly everything went dark…kinda like the blackout that other day. Everyone was confused at what happened, but I ran to the big arm undetected and forced it to let Graphite go, and…well, he took care of the rest."

"Still sounds like you were a hero to me," said Sketch.

Copper looked upset. "No! I'm…not exactly done with the story. Sure, after all that, we stopped their hacking business, and they even used the same computer to locate and capture most of the bad guys." He raised a finger. "Most of them. There were still two that they didn't find…the ringleader being one of them, and the hacker being the other. They kept a mental note of my name and what I looked like, as well as what I managed to do. And…" Copper took a deep breath. "…they apparently wanted revenge."

Heather covered her mouth with a concerned expression. "What did they do to you?"

"To me? Nothing." Copper looked to Broom, who looked just as concerned. "But they learned about my friend from Keshly'm, and decided to make use of him."

Broom's eyes widened. "Wait, I remember! This one guy kicked in the door of my house and knocked me out, and the next thing I knew I woke up trapped in some horrible torture device…thing. THAT'S what that was about?!"

Copper turned away. "They…sent a message to Kheji asking to confront them about a…'business proposition,' if I wanted you to remain alive. They showed an image of you trapped in a horrible machine. You were unconscious, but your arms and legs were already being stretched out in the picture. I was scared…I felt like my mission with Graphite threw me into a lot of danger, and…and you were dragged into it in the process…"

Sketch thought about this for a moment, recollecting some of the other memories Broom showed him. "I see, now… that explains the other instance Broom was in danger. And the guy even had a knife held up to Broom's throat, and you were standing there shaking… you were obviously very worried."

Copper nodded. "The guy told me they'd let Broom live if I were to cooperate with them. I'd essentially be a henchman, using my fervor to help out with their criminal work. I…I saw Broom trembling as the knife was held to him, and I…I wasn't sure what to do. They could've killed him…I didn't feel like I had a lot of time to do anything, and I worried if I made a false move, Broom was really gonna get hurt."

Heather recalled the memories too. "And then you made your move."

"I don't know what I was thinking at the time," said Copper, sounding like he was about to panic again. "I just quickly dashed up to the guy with the knife. I was quick enough to startle him, and…the scare caused him to let go of the knife. And as soon as I saw it leave his hand…I grabbed it and threw it as far as I could. Which wasn't far, but apparently got embedded into a wall and couldn't get pulled out."

"Nice!" said Sketch.

Copper winced as he continued his story. "But then I got a hold of the guy. I channeled a lot of my fervor into him. His breathing…his heart…they all stopped for a moment. His nerves fought to even struggle. I was…I was FURIOUS. I wanted it all to stop. I wanted HIM to stop." He covered his face. "I…was probably gonna kill him…"

Everyone was quiet.

Copper sniffled. "Then I heard Broom. He spoke my name…and asked if I was alright. When I heard that, I let the guy go. He was out cold, but his breathing and his heart started again. It was a partial relief, I guess…but…"

Broom hugged Copper. "It's okay."

"No it isn't!" Copper replied, sounding both angry and sad. "If I didn't get involved in that mission, you wouldn't have been put in danger! I…you claimed that I was a hero even then, but I was the reason you were kidnapped!"

"Copper, I'm not mad at you! I…I understand it was all scary. We were both scared! But I…I admit I was scared for you more than I was for me. I could see that angry stare you gave the guy…and I was worried what you were gonna do."

Heather scratched her head. "I recall seeing some other fella in that memory, who looked kinda like Copper in a dark coat."

Copper wiped his eyes. "Y-yeah, that would be Graphite. During that moment he actually snuck into the scene waiting for a chance to strike, but…even he wasn't prepared for what I did to the guy. He managed to take down the bad guys while I released Broom from the machine. It was hard to feel proud or happy about the situation, even though Broom seemed willing to thank me."

Sketch nodded. "I understand, bud. The whole thing about being called a hero…you don't think you deserve it because of all the little details…all the thoughts and emotions that were swarming your mind in those scary situations. But you always had a chance to choose…and in each of those moments, I think you did the right thing. And I think that's what makes you a hero."

Heather nodded in agreement. "People can think a lot of things in a situation. Some of those thoughts can be bad…scary, even. But it's the actions you took despite those thoughts…that convinces me you're not a bad person. You could've killed that guy, those aliens…you could've left Graphite or Broom to die…but whether it was instinct or something else, you opted to do something to fix the problem, even though it was something no one expected. And I think that's pretty cool!"

Copper was silent. He was blushing a bright purple.

"You ARE pretty cool," said Broom. "That's why I'm proud to call you my friend. I mean….I wouldn't have imagined you were what put me in that scary situation…but you managed to step up and get me right back out!"

Copper looked to Broom. "B-but…I…the guy…"

Broom nodded. "Like I said, I could tell things were getting overwhelming. So I…well, I want to say I was able to help you when you needed it. And I still do…after all that's happened, I feel like it's the least I can do."

Copper couldn't think of anything to say. He just nodded.

"I can tell you're a good friend of his," Sketch said to Broom.

"I learned a lot about him when we performed Clarity on that alien ship," Broom replied. "I…guess I never got to learn how he was feeling after the events afterward." He turned to Copper and held up his hand. "Would it be okay?"

Copper hesitated. "I…Not right now, Broom. I'm sorry."

Broom lowered his hand, then nodded in understanding. "Alright. I'll leave it be for now."

Sketch decided it was time to change the subject. "Incidentally, what's the game you're playing?"

Broom and Copper turned to the handheld. "Oh! The game? It's a bit of an action puzzler. You move dice around and connect them together to clear them off the board. Wanna try?"

Sketch scratched his head. "Why don't you show me first? I get the feeling I won't do so hot without some example to follow."

Broom nodded, smiling. "Sure thing!"

Sketch and Heather walked up behind Broom, and they and Copper all spectated Broom's game as he explained how things worked…

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

I always kinda laughed at the different types of lives our parents came from

Well educated social media analyst (once only *shrugs*)

Poor brilliant devil (if not crazy and wrapped up in hedonism....especially with sex)

A south and a north. The one in the north(fuck you north is still north even easterly which is west)

[immoral-stranger]

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲 // 𝐌𝐕𝟏

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟒. 🪐 “I like to stick to walls. Observing conversations, lifting them when they fall.” – Foster the People, Fire Escape.

Pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Word count: 5k

Warnings: There's a dinner party and reader is a chef, so a lot of talk about food. Reader is also very self-deprecating. Allusions to issues regarding mental health and self-worth, but it's not really the main story. It makes sense, I promise, I just don't know how to warn about it.

A/N: My sister requested this after we watched the movie Sommartider (very swedish), so there's a similar scene in that. I personally find this one very cute. ♡

The apartment smelled of butter and garlic, the scent clinging to the sun-warm kitchen, filled with light that spilled through the sheer linen curtains. It was small but charming, a snug little nest tucked into the hills of the French Riviera, not too far from Nice. You stood at the counter, hands damp from having peeled potatoes, a half-prepared gratin tray in front of you. It had been a gift from your parents, a fittingly named Marseille bleu Le Creuset roasting pan. You would’ve never bought it for yourself—too expensive—but as a gift, you’d been thankful to receive it. 

“Did you decant the wine like I told you?” Imogen’s voice drifted from the other room, where she was preening in front of the gilded mirror you’d picked up at a flea market. It wasn’t her style—too rustic, too worn—but she’d said it added “charm” to your place, always opting for a backhanded compliment instead of the truth. She hated your style because it was the opposite of hers. 

You didn’t look up from your work. “No, uhm—”

“Kinda busy,” she interrupted, breezing in. Imogen always moved like she was on a runway, even barefoot in her sister’s modest kitchen. Her hair was swept into a sleek bun, and she wore a silk blouse that you suspected cost more than your entire apartment deposit. Sponsored, most definitely. She paused to eye the tray in front of you. “What even is that?”

“The base to dauphinoise potatoes,” you said, flicking a glance at her. She didn’t care about the answer; she never did. Imogen asked questions to fill the air, not to gather information. You also suspected that she loved the sound of her own voice so much that she never felt the need to shut the fuck up. 

She wrinkled her nose, but it was half-hearted, like a habit she wasn’t willing to break. “I still can’t believe you do this out of pure enjoyment.”

You shrugged, lifting a knife to thinly slice another potato. “Everyone needs to eat, Imogen.”

“Yeah, that’s what Uber Eats is for,” she said breezily, perching on one of your barstools. “No need to go to culinary school.”

You turned to give her a pointed look, hand on your hip. “And who do you think works in the kitchens at the restaurants you order from?”

Imogen made a face, part exasperated and part amused, and waved you off. “You do not always have to poke holes in other people’s logic. It’s an unattractive trait.”

Before you could respond, the sharp trill of the doorbell cut through the room. Imogen’s eyes widened, and she hopped off the stool in a single fluid motion. “Oh god, that’s them—” She smoothed her blouse and gave herself a quick glance in the reflection of a hanging copper pot. “Do I look good?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but your voice softened in spite of yourself. “You always do. It’s your job.” 

As Imogen floated toward the door, a knot of tension twisted in your stomach. It wasn’t jealousy—it never had been. It was more complicated than that: a mix of frustration and yearning that you didn’t want to untangle. Imogen walked through life as though she owned the air around her, while you had spent most of yours holding your breath. 

She pulled the door open with a practiced flourish, stepping aside to let Daniel stroll in first. His confidence and laughter preceded him, a quick kiss placed on Imogen’s cheek, and she giggled in a way that made you want to hurl. 

Daniel moved with the kind of ease that made it impossible to tell if he was posing or simply existing. Former Formula 1 driver, now Imogen’s on-again, off-again boyfriend, who appeared far more interested in globetrotting and sponsorships than in anything truly meaningful with her. With a bit of self-distance, you actually really enjoyed Daniel’s presence. He was funny and kind, even though you had nothing in common. 

“Danny, always good to see you,” you said, managing a polite smile as he stepped into the kitchen, lifting your attention from the food preparations. 

“Whatever it is you’re cooking smells wonderful,” he replied, inhaling deeply. “This is Max,” Danny added, stepping aside to reveal the man behind him. 

Through a gap, you could spot Imogen in the entryway, observing your reaction and how you greeted the both of them. It was almost like she wanted to make sure you wouldn’t embarrass yourself—or, worse—embarrass her. You, of course, knew who she had invited over for dinner. You’d had to sit through hours worth of gossip all the times you and Imogen caught up on each other’s lives. So, having two world-famous athletes stand in your kitchen wasn’t as surreal as it may sound. 

Max was taller than you’d expected, his broad shoulders and quiet presence making the doorway seem smaller. Clad in a simple black t-shirt, he seemed like any other guy your age. He looked relaxed but not indifferent, his gaze curious as he took in your modest apartment.

You raised an eyebrow, unable to resist the rising amusement. “Danny, I don’t know if it’s funny or offensive that you think I don’t know who he is.” 

They both chuckled slightly at your words, and it was like you could see how tension released from Imogen’s shoulders, instantly becoming a couple centimeters shorter. 

“I would shake your hand, Max, but I have oil all over mine,” you said, holding up your slick fingers as evidence, before returning to the food, dealing with a marinated cut of meat. 

“Right,” Danny said, clapping Max on the shoulder and steering him further into the room. “She’s got this whole culinary genius thing going on, doesn’t she? Always smells like a five-star restaurant in here.”

“Not exactly,” you said, though the compliment made your cheeks feel warm. You glanced up at Max, who was still watching you, his smile small but genuine.

“Well, don’t let us interrupt your masterpiece,” Imogen said airily. “We’ll stay out of your way. You’ve got this under control, right?”

You only nodded, turning back to the food. It wasn’t until you heard Imogen’s laughter trailing into the living room that you allowed yourself to relax. There was a faint comfort in being in your element, even if you weren’t entirely alone.

In the background, you heard them talk as Imogen poured up glasses of wine for everyone. The wine she had forgotten to decant—that you knew needed air to taste decent. You heard her talk about the wine like it was something special. You, however, knew that she had stolen all of her knowledge from when she shot an ad for a winery somewhere in South Africa, and it didn’t particularly look like either Max or Danny cared that much. Ironic, for someone who had their own wine company, but you also got tired of hearing Imogen talk about things she didn’t really care enough about to research but talked about anyway to seem interesting. 

As she poured the fourth and final glass, you saw Max pick up two of them in your periphery. You tried to not visibly tense up as you heard his steps approach across your creaking wooden floors. He set both the glasses down on your kitchen island with a careful clink. 

With a wordless nod, you thanked him, picking one of the glasses up and swiveling the red liquid around to aerate it. 

Max lingered near the counter, his hands tucked into his pockets as he studied the array of ingredients you had spread out around you. “Is that you?” he asked, nodding toward a framed photo on the wall. 

It was one of the few remnants of your short-lived modeling career—an editorial shot of you, disturbingly close up, showing skin texture and flyaway hairs, vivid watercolour-like makeup in patches around your face and neck. You didn’t even look like yourself in it, which maybe was why it was the only photo of yourself you could bear seeing every day as you spent time in your kitchen. 

“Totally narcissistic, I know,” you snorted, keeping your eyes on the frying pan sizzling on the stove. 

“No, uhm, I didn’t mean it like that.” Max’s tone softened. “I think it looks cool. You must model too then?” 

“Nope.” You shook your head, glancing up at him, surprised by his sincerity. “I mean, I tried to, but I quit a while ago and went to culinary school.”

“That explains all this.” Max said, gesturing to the kitchen.

“I may have gone overboard,” you admitted, laughing softly. 

Imogen, perched on the edge of the sofa like a cat surveying her domain, twirled a lock of her hair idly before cutting in smoothly. “Is she boring you with her food talk, Max?” Her voice had that lilting quality you recognized well—equal parts teasing and dismissive, designed to simultaneously charm and belittle.

You stiffened instinctively, your movements freezing, spatula scraping the bottom of the pan. 

Max, however, straightened slightly, his casual stance shifting. “Not at all,” he replied, his tone easy but resolute, as if dismissing her suggestion entirely. Then he turned toward you. “Actually…” He hesitated, a small, almost bashful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Can I help with anything?”

“Oh, probably not,” you said, trying to recover from sounding too surprised. “Imogen always says that I’m like a dictator in the kitchen and that my recipes are unreadable.” 

Max stepped closer, peering down at your notebook with recipes, pages filled with messy handwriting, arrows, and scratchy diagrams. “No, I get it. It’s like a mind map. Makes it easier to see the process,” he said after a moment. “Even if I don’t know what half of these things mean. What even is… a wild turkey?” 

You tilted your head, genuinely surprised that he could make sense of your ramblings. Looking over, you saw his finger point to one ingredient. You let out an unguarded laugh, the sound bubbling out before you could stop it. “It’s bourbon, for the marinade,” you explained. “Does this look like turkey meat to you?”

The meat sizzling in the frying pan was obviously some cut of beef, to judge by the colour. You didn’t need to be a culinary expert to know that. 

“No,” Max admitted with a grin. “And it would be weird to measure meat in tablespoons.” 

Your lips quirked upward, and you reached for a pear from the fruit bowl beside you, along with a cutting board and a little knife. You were hesitant to give him one of your good knives, worried he’d cut himself the first thing he did. It was quite common for people to do when they were unfamiliar with the sharpness a chef’s knife could have. 

“I guess you can chop that pear in little cubes, if you want to help.” 

Max took the pear from you, turning it over in his hands as if he were inspecting some foreign object. “A pear?” 

“It’s for the salad,” you explained, already turning back to your own task. 

“You can put pear in a salad?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. “I don’t think I’ve eaten a pear since I was about seven.” 

You arched a brow, glancing at him over your shoulder to see that he was fully sincere. With swift movements, you took the knife and cut a slice of the pear before dipping it into a vinaigrette you’d already prepared. 

“Try it, for science,” you said, holding it up for him to taste. 

Max hesitated before taking a small bite, his brow furrowing slightly as he chewed. Then he nodded, his expression lightening. “Huh, you know what you’re doing.” 

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you dismissed his comment, turning to look at the stove again. 

Max chuckled in response, shaking his head. He then stepped closer to the counter as he grabbed a knife. His movements were unpracticed but deliberate, the pear wobbling slightly as he began chopping it into uneven pieces. You felt the familiar itch of not being in control, almost taking over your own movements. But, you stopped thinking for a moment. Dinner wouldn’t be ruined just because the pear wasn’t in perfect cubes. And Max was actually putting in effort, biting down on his tongue, a line forming between his brows as he focused.

“Are you always this much of a perfectionist,” you asked, viewing his motions, “or are you just showing off in front of me?” 

“I’ve never put this much brain capacity into anything before,” Max joked, adding a laugh as he examined one of the misshapen pear cubes. 

For a moment, the kitchen fell into an easy rhythm. Imogen and Danny’s laughter floated in from the other room, a sharp contrast to the quiet concentration shared between you and Max. You didn’t usually let anyone help in the kitchen—it was your sanctuary, your domain—but for some reason, with Max fumbling his way through chopping fruit and throwing curious questions your way, it didn’t feel like an intrusion. 

When the food was done, the four of you gathered around your dining table, decorated with pottery and plates that you had collected throughout the years. Nothing matched, just like you preferred it. The golden hour crept through the windows as the room filled with light from the sun and flickering candles. 

And the dinner went fine, just like it always did, even though you couldn’t help but imagine the worst-case scenario of accidentally poisoning someone, or forgetting an allergy, maybe dropping the main dish right on the floor. Your sister and her company ate like they enjoyed it at least. The added blur of wine helping with the atmosphere. 

You were always the most quiet one in group settings, only speaking when spoken to, really. But you liked it that way. The stories Max and Daniel could tell from their lives were vastly more interesting than anything you had experienced anyway. Imogen too lived a more eventful life with fashion weeks and world travelling. Everyone seemed to like it that way too, the scrape of forks against plates punctuating Danny’s latest story. 

“…and when I finally got the bloody thing out of the house, the neighbour’s dog chased it straight back in,” Danny concluded, laughing as he leaned back in his chair. Imogen giggled, dabbing her lips with a napkin in that poised way of hers.

Max chuckled but shifted his gaze to you, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “So, how did you end up going from modeling to cooking?” He asked, after Danny was done telling the detailed story about a snake entering his house back home in Australia. 

You didn’t realise for how long you’d been quiet until you were now forced to speak, your voice sounding foreign to even your own ears. Setting your fork down, you answered, “I gave myself one last runway season to see if I could support myself. I walked three shows, while Imogen walked like thirty.”

“Thirty-two,” Imogen corrected, not missing a beat. She reached for her wine glass, taking a delicate sip before adding, “I’ll always believe you could’ve done it if you didn’t give up so easily.” Her tone was light but pointed. 

Your lips tightened. “I didn’t give up, Imogen—I moved on.” 

“Sure, if that’s what you want to call it,” she said with a faint shrug. “You never see yourself as anything special, always such a plain Jane.” 

The words settled heavily in the air, their weight pressing against your chest. For a brief moment, the table fell silent, the only sound the faint clink of cutlery against porcelain. You forced yourself to maintain an even expression as you reached for your glass of water. 

“It’s kind of hard to when you’re having dinner with three child prodigies,” you answered, letting out a pathetic laugh to conceal your emotions. 

For someone who was so afraid of you embarrassing her, Imogen really had no issue with her own words causing embarrassment for others. 

Max frowned slightly, his hands stilling as he turned toward you. “I wouldn’t call myself a prodigy,” he said, his voice calm but tinged with something else—discomfort, perhaps.

“Yeah, right,” Danny said, nudging Max with an elbow. “Modesty doesn’t suit you, mate. You’re not fooling anyone.”

Max smiled faintly but didn’t reply. There was a softness in his expression that made your stomach twist, though you quickly moved your gaze to look at your plate; the uneven shapes of pear in the salad were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. 

The conversation shifted, as it always did with Imogen, back to her. Something about a designer or a photographer saying she was the best model to work with. Something about a socialite event where ridiculous things had happened. Ridiculous meaning stupidly expensive or over the top. You wanted to laugh, knowing that they most likely didn’t use the real thing for the crazy champagne fountains she talked about, or that the sturgeon caviar they had served was a cheap knock-off, because no chef in their right mind would use the amount she mentioned. 

You zoned out as she talked, only starting to pay attention again when the conversation drifted towards what they were doing tonight and that they might need to call a cab soon. 

“Oh, where are you going?” you asked, unsure if you actually cared. 

“A sponsored event on a yacht in the marina. You know the jewelry company I did an ad for?” she replied casually, her tone almost bored.

You nodded, though the familiar ache of exclusion began to settle in your chest. You knew the exact advert she was referring to, not because you cared, but because those freaking pictures of her were everywhere. In stores, on every social media app, on digital billboards across multiple cities of the French Riviera—hell, you’d even seen it at a bus stop. 

“I assumed you wouldn’t want to come,” she added. The statement wasn’t cruel, but it stung all the same. “You never do.” 

Your fingers curled around the stem of your glass as you gave a small nod, keeping your face neutral. “No, I guess you’re right.” 

Max hesitated, glancing between you and Imogen. “I mean, she could come if she wanted to, right?”

“Yeah,” Imogen said, tilting her head as though the idea had never occurred to her. “I guess I could make a call to get you on the list.” 

“Don’t bother, you know it’s not my scene anyway,” you said quickly, your voice firmer than you intended.

Danny grinned, leaning back in his chair. “A wild night for her is solving a crossword puzzle with a pen you can’t erase.” 

“Or,” Imogen added with a smirk, her eyes glinting with mischief, “when she’s brave enough, watching an episode of Criminal Minds instead of Friends like she usually does.”

Their laughter filled the room, bouncing off the walls with the kind of ease you’d never quite mastered. It wasn’t malicious—at least not intentionally—but it still left a weight in your chest, heavy and familiar.

You kept your head down, pushing the last bit of salad around your plate, and told yourself you didn’t care. This was the dynamic, after all. Imogen had always been the star of the show, and Danny loved playing her supporting act. You had other friends who understood you better, who you had more in common with. Max, though—Max had been a surprise. And even now, as their laughter rang on, you caught him glancing at you from across the table, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression.

The dinner ended not long after. They had places to be, important people to talk to—while you had sitcoms to watch and dishes to take care of. You were happy to see Imogen every once in a while when she and Danny were both in Monaco, and you loved cooking for people, no matter who they were. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little happy knowing that Imogen was busy with work all throughout the upcoming month. 

As they filtered out, their voices trailing off into the warm Riviera night, the apartment felt suddenly too quiet. Locking the door after them, you slid down onto the floor, sitting with your knees tucked up towards your body, rubbing your tired eyes with the back of your hands, not caring if mascara crumbled all over your face. You felt empty, the hum of the refrigerator filling the silence. The half-drunk bottle of wine on the kitchen counter looked temping as you considered finishing it yourself. 

— — — — — — — — — — — —

Max trailed behind Danny and Imogen as they strolled toward the cab waiting just down the street. The night air was cool, carrying the faint scent of the sea, and the stars twinkled faintly above the rooftops.

Danny was cracking a joke, and Imogen’s laughter rang out like a bell, but Max barely registered it. His hands were shoved into his pockets, his mind somewhere else entirely—back upstairs, at the table, watching you push your food around with that faint, detached smile.

He slowed his steps, his feet dragging. The idea of the yacht party, the glitz and endless small talk, suddenly felt suffocating. He wasn’t sure why, but the thought of leaving felt… wrong. Max hated events like that. Everyone knew that. And while it was nice to catch up with Danny since they didn’t see much of each other nowadays, he found Imogen insufferable. He could play padel with Danny tomorrow if he wanted to talk more with him. Before he could think better of it, Max stopped altogether.

“Hey,” he called after them, making Danny and Imogen turn around.

“What’s up?” Danny asked, his brow furrowing.

Max hesitated, then gestured vaguely over his shoulder. “I think I forgot my phone. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Imogen gave him a bemused smile, her head tilting slightly. “You sure? It’s not like we can wait forever.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Max said firmly, already stepping back. He waved them off. “Have fun.”

He turned before he could see their expressions and made his way back to the building.

The walk up the stairs felt oddly daunting now, each step heavier than the last, as though the weight of his own indecision was pulling him back. The soft hum of the building at night—the faint creak of pipes, the muffled sounds of life behind closed doors—seemed to grow louder with every passing moment. Max reached your door and hesitated, his hand hovering uncertainly near the wood.

What was he even going to say? He wasn’t the type to overthink things, but this felt different. He didn’t want to overstep. What if you didn’t want company? The evening had already been a mixed bag of awkward moments, and the last thing he wanted was to make it worse.

Max sighed, his arm lowering slightly, just about ready to turn back when he heard your voice from the other side of the door.

“I miss you too, like craaazy,” you said, your voice muffled but clear enough through the door. Max froze, his curiosity getting the better of him. You sounded close, as though you were standing right by the door. Picking up the pieces, he figured you were talking to someone over the phone. 

“Imogen and Daniel came over for dinner earlier, and he brought a friend of his, and it was the most awkward thing ever,” you spoke again. 

Max frowned slightly. He was the friend, of course. While he’d sensed some discomfort during the evening, particularly whenever the conversation turned toward you, he hadn’t thought it was that bad. Who would you be talking to like that anyway, debriefing something that had just happened? Did you have… a boyfriend? 

“Mum,” you added, your voice cutting through his doubt, “of course it was a boy.”

He relaxed a fraction, leaning slightly closer to the door without realizing it.

“A cute one, too,” you admitted. 

Max blinked, warmth creeping into his face. A cute boy. That was a twist he hadn’t expected. He couldn’t help but grin, his chest lifting slightly at the thought. And you definitely didn’t have a boyfriend.

“You don’t have to ask if I bottled it. You already know I did,” you said after a brief pause, your voice quieter now. “I’m not like Imogen. I don’t think I’ll ever learn to be that easygoing.” 

Max was back to frowning, this time for a different reason. He didn’t like the sound of that. He wanted to knock, to interrupt, but he didn’t move.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you,” you said, your tone softening into affection as you ended the call. “Tell Dad I said hi. Buh-bye.”

Max barely gave himself a moment to think before he raised his hand and knocked. There was a pause, long enough for him to wonder if you’d heard, and then your voice came through the door. 

“Did you forget something?”

By the sound of your voice, he could tell that you were expecting it to be Imogen coming back for something. Not him. 

Max smiled despite himself. “Yeah,” he said, the words coming out more confidently than he expected. “I think I did.”

For a moment, there was silence, and then he heard rustling from behind the door, almost as if you’d stumbled to reach it. The lock clicked, and the door opened, revealing you with wide, startled eyes. You looked more tired than you had before, makeup and clothes a bit askew. He assumed Imogen had something to do with how polished you’d looked at the beginning of the evening. 

“Max?” you asked, your voice pitched slightly higher in surprise.

He cleared his throat, his hand rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I was wondering…” he started, shifting his weight but keeping his tone light, “if maybe, I could stay here and be boring with you?” 

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, though the words sounded stupid the moment they left his lips. He half-expected you to laugh, but instead, you blinked at him, your surprise melting into something softer.

“Uhm, yeah,” you said, stepping back to let him in. “Sure.”

Max stepped inside, and for the second time that night, he was struck by how inviting your apartment felt. The uneven warmth of the terracotta tiles beneath his feet, the mismatched chairs around the small dining table, and the array of plants lining the windowsill. It was nothing like he was used to, yet it felt like the picture-perfect definition of the word home.

Moving into the kitchen, his eyes landed on something on the counter—a tray of something, its surface dusted with cocoa powder.

“You made dessert?” he asked, tilting his head toward it.

“Yeah,” you said, shutting the door behind him, smoothing out your shirt with your hands. “I made tiramisu. Want some?”

Max didn’t hesitate. Moments later, he was seated on your sofa with a fork in hand, his first bite of the tiramisu silencing any lingering awkwardness. “Fuck me, this is like the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he said, his voice filled with genuine appreciation.

You laughed, a soft, almost shy sound that Max couldn’t help but find adorable. You really couldn’t handle compliments well, and Max was going to use that to his advantage to make you wonderfully uncomfortable. “And you were going to have all this dessert for yourself instead of going out with us?” he asked, setting his fork down briefly to give you a look of mock betrayal.

“Well,” you said with a small shrug, sitting down beside him with your own plate of dessert. “I wasn’t really invited in the first place.”

Max frowned. “That’s not fair. They should’ve—”

“It’s fine,” you said, cutting him off. “Really. It’s not my scene anyway.”

Max studied you for a moment, his fork hovering over the dish. You were the opposite of so many people that he knew. And so similar to himself that it was almost scary to him. 

Tucking up your legs under your body, you made yourself comfortable on the sofa before you continued talking. “I tend to stick to the walls in places like that anyway. Just observing conversations, trying but failing to lift them when they fall.” 

“Do you also feel like you’ve got a foot in your mouth whenever you open it?” he wondered honestly. 

“Exactly. Always putting my foot in my mouth,” you replied with a chuckle. 

“Sounds impressive to me,” he joked with a grin. “I’m not that agile.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you said, rolling your eyes. “You were the one to bring it up.” 

For a moment, the apartment settled into a quiet hum, the faint sounds of the outside world barely audible through the walls. Max leaned forward, setting his plate down on your coffee table. The TV was noticeably black in front of the two of you.

“So,” he asked, tilting his head slightly, “what is it tonight? A crime show or… what was the other thing?”

“Friends,” you replied, reading in his reaction. “You’ve never seen Friends?”

Max’s brows lifted. “Not really. Maybe bits and pieces, but I couldn’t tell you much about it.”

“Oh my god,” you said, your tone equal parts horror and humor as your eyes widened dramatically. “You have a lot to learn.”

He laughed, the sound light and genuine. “I’m hoping you’ll tell me everything I need to know.”

You smiled, a real one that softened your whole face. You picked up the remote, turning on the pilot episode. Max wasn’t really paying attention, but he liked how certain funny things made you audibly laugh. The more you watched and the more tiramisu you ate—the more the comfortable feeling spread like a fire through your living room, silently burning as he placed an arm around you and shared your blanket. 

This wasn’t where he’d thought he’d end up as he had entered your apartment the first time tonight, but now, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think ♡

౨ৎ [ main masterlist . taglist . other love letters ]

Taglist: @koko-mei @anamiad00msday @floweringanna @lucyysthings @yelenam5 @firefirevampire @alexxavicry @emails-i-can-send @freyathehuntress

[thecoiledserpent]

what would your advice be for a saturn dominant person? i hate my life it always feels like everyone gets life easy but me

welp, struggle is the saturnian way my darling. there are several things i would say to this but the things with most foreigners or people who are unfamiliar with indian culture is that they wish to understand it, but they are most often not willing to understand the amount of control and limitation in our lifestyles. regardless, here are a few most useful tips.

avoid coffee, tea, weed, cigarette or addiction of any sorts.

avoid eating too much fatty / sweet food. just keep a modest balance in eating habits

avoid wearing the colour black, especially on saturday

wear silver jewellery, even a simple chain works. or a bangle, anything.

help the elderly, if there are any around you.

be of proper conduct and avoid any display of a loose character

if you're a hindu, offer black sesame seed oil to shani (saturn); and black cloth.

never buy items related to saturn on auspicious days.

i recommend praying to the sun god for saturn related problems, for he is saturn's father, and the death of darkness. even waking up early (somewhat around 6, 5 if you can), making your bed and bowing to the sun with devotion in one's heart is an appreciable gesture.

if you are a hindu, offer water to the sun god in a copper vessel while looking in his direction to the best of your possibility (don't burn your eyes or smth) and chant 'om suryaya namah'

after everything, i can still not assure you that saturn will be very pleased, or that life will be easier. but increasing the influence of the sun in your life revitalizes hope and energy. and most important of all is patience, especially with saturn in watch. they say it takes from 3 seconds to 3 years for a vedic remedy to work; let's be glad it's not 3 decades!

[duhragonball]

Daima 07: Collar

Spread the word around. The boys are back in town.

All right, so last time Bulma got the Supreme Kai's old plane working, but it broke down again before her group could get anywhere with it. Now, she's discovered that the problem lies in a "damaged rock" that functions as part of the plane's energy converter. And she determined that this component is made out of materials that don't exist on Earth. This seems awfully similar to the problem Jaco had in the Jaco: Galactic Patrolman manga, but you can't fault Akira Toriyama from stealing from the best, by which I mean stealing from himself, Akira Toriyama.

Well, to be fair, the punchline in Jaco was that his ship didn't actually need an unusual material for repairs. Bulma herself determined this when she repaired his ship, and I think she used copper as a substitute. But this is a different part on a different ship, and so if Bulma says it can't be replaced, then the ship can't be fixed. She's more frustrated that she went to all the trouble to perform repairs that ultimately wound up being pointless.

I'll take a moment to note a moment with Vegeta and Bulma. When she explains the ship can never fly, he grumbles about it, and then she gets upset with him because she's the one who should be complaining, since she went to so much effort for nothing. And Vegeta just has to stand there awkwardly and take it, because he knows better. And he faces the viewer as if to say "Yeah, don't look at me, pal, I gotta live with her."

Then Hybis arrives to pick them up in his plane, and Bulma immediately steps behind Vegeta and he steps in front of her, and it's really cute. It's only a few seconds of the episode, but it captures the Vegeta/Bulma dynamic perfectly.

Meanwhile, Goku eats Manpuku Dumplings, which look like meatballs, but they're actually the Demon Realm equivalent of that Lembas bread they have in Lord of the Rings where you can live off it for a long time. One Manpuku Dumpling is the same as two entire meals. Goku eats two of them in one sitting, because he's a hongry boy.

Panzy is amazed that Goku could really be a grown man, and wonders how he could have raised a child of his own. Goku says that he "wasn't really involved." I'm sure the whole "bad dad" crowd will make hay over this, but personally I think it shows how modest Goku is about his life as a parent. It's true that he was absent for much of Gohan and Goten's lives, but he still had a big impact on their childhoods. But he would be the last person to see it that way. As far as Goku's concerned, Gohan got strong enough to beat Cell all by himself, and he doesn't see how critical his training was to that process. And so he'll freely give all the credit to his wife, since she did put a lot more time and structure into raising their kids.

Back in the outer universe, Hybis takes Bulma's group to join the others on Third Demon World. Bulma asks why Kibito didn't join them, and Piccolo explains that he's staying behind to "look after the temple". Uh… why? Is it going to be attacked? Besides, Hybis can be their guide anyway, so they don't really need Kibito.

And that's fair, Kibito isn't really necessary for this story, but you'd think he'd want to go along so he could keep tabs on his master, the Supreme Kai. The bigger question is: Why is Bulma going in his place? She was going to stay behind when they tried to use the Supreme Kai's old plane, so why is she suddenly coming along this time? Not that I don't want her to be in this adventure, but it seems a little strange to sub her in this way.

Back to Goku, his group get intercepted by King Gomah's goon patrol, and they want to search the plane. Glorio realizes that they must not be sure Goku is on board, or they would have attacked without warning. The Supreme Kai says they should play it cool so their plane doesn't get shot up, and he has an idea about hiding Goku.

Glorio wonders how they tracked them down, and Panzy figures they must have used the collar she wears to locate her. Demons in the Third Demon World are required to wear the collars their whole lives. We saw the goons use them in Episode 3 to control the townspeople while they collected taxes, and they scanned Panzy's collar in the previous episode.

So the gang deplanes, leaving Goku on board, and the goons find… nothing. Then Goku reveals he's been behind Panzy the whole time. Then he hides behind a bush. Panzy is amazed, and the Supreme Kai explains that Goku used Instant Transmission.

This is a pretty cool way to introduce Goku's ability. In other stories, Goku's Instant Transmission is often taken for granted, because he was already very powerful when he first debuted the ability. And much of the time, Instant Transmission might as well be the same thing as super-speed. In GT, Goku tried to use it, only to find his child body couldn't do it for some reason, but it didn't matter very much.

I was beginning to wonder if Goku might have lost his Instant Transmission ability in Daima as well, but then I realized there really wasn't a good reason for him to use it until now. He could have teleported to Master Roshi's to get his Nyoibo, but he flew instead, probably because he wanted to use the time to adjust to his new kid body. After that, he's been in the Demon Realm this whole time, and he can't teleport anywhere useful because he doesn't know the place well enough to travel that way. Instant Transmission relies on sensing the ki of someone else, and then teleporting to their location. So in theory, Goku could have teleported to King Kadan's castle by sensing his energy, but even if Goku could have sensed Kadan's power, he wouldn't have known whose power that was. Now that he's met Kadan, I guess he could teleport back to him whenever he wants, but that wouldn't accomplish anything.

No, the only one Goku knows in this place is the Supreme Kai, and they're traveling together, so the only reason for Goku to use Instant Transmission is if he and the Kai are apart, and he wants to go to him without anyone noticing. And this situation sets up a perfect demonstration.

So the good guys are free to go, right? Wrong. The goons want to take Panzy in for questioning. Some masked kid threw a bomb at them in Episode 3, and they think she might be connected. The Supreme Kai tries to give her an alibi, but the goons don't really care if she's guilty or not, so Panzy tasers one and Glorio and the Supreme Kai clobber the rest.

It's a pretty quick fight, but it's still good stuff, and I'm just amazed that we've gotten five fights in five straight episodes like this. Some of the goons try to escape, but Goku brings down their plane with a ki blast. Not any kind of fancy ki blast, just a vanilla one, because this show is doling out Goku's powers one by one, and I'm pretty sure they're saving the Kamehameha for later.

Panzy uses a ray gun to disable the goons' communicators, and Goku pokes one of them with a stick. Man, imagine you get your ass kicked by Goku and then he pokes you with a stick like a cutie patootie. Goku's ruthless, man. Now they're all fugitives, but Goku's cool with that. I mean, it was just a matter of time anyway. Their plane is wrecked, but they can just take one of the Goon Patrol planes and make better time with it.

There's just one problem: Panzy's collar. She realizes that if she keeps traveling with Goku and the others, Gomah's men will keep following them. So it looks like she'll have to stay behind, until the Supreme Kai takes a look at the collar for himself.

Turns out it's made of Katchintite, which is a term Goku recognizes, so I'm pretty sure this is the same metal as that block the Supreme Kai made to test the Z-Sword back in DBZ episode 250. I thought it was just called "Katchin", but that might be a dub thing. No, wait, I looked it up and he called it "Katchinko" back then. Wait, no, the subtitles on Crunchyroll call it "Katchintite", but the voice actors themselves are saying "Katchinko." Okay, I'm glad we got that cleared up.

So, in DBZ, it was just a supremely hard metal, but here, the Supreme Kai explains that it can only be obtained on Planet Kaishin, where the Glinds used to live. And I am now really confused about the Supreme Kai's backstory. Apparently he was born on the Second Demon World, then he left to migrate to the Outer Universe, but then his people settled on another planet called Kaishin, and then he finally moved to the Sacred World of the Kais when he took the Supreme Kai job. At this rate, he'll have forty-five addresses before this show ends.

Anyway, the Supreme Kai suspects that his sister, Dr. Arinsu, was the one who manufactured the collars during the reign of Dabura. I guess that makes sense, because Arinsu was doing research that was heavily funded by Dabura, and he might have found her invention useful for controlling the unruly populace of the Third Demon World. Panzy says her people are taken by the government and forced to wear the collars, but she doesn't say when that happens. She does say that the collars grow along with you as you get older, so it's safe to assume they get put on at a young age, since Panzy's still a child herself.

So the Supreme Kai offers to remove her collar, because he's a Glind, and has special powers over the Katchin metal it's made of. He just sort of busts this out without warning, so Panzy is blown away by this. Apparently, the magic used to dissolve the collars isn't even that special. The Supreme Kai says anyone can use it, so it's likely that he'll be teaching it to Panzy before it's all over and done with.

I like this a lot, not just because it's a cool bonding between Panzy and the Supreme Kai, but also because it shows just why Goku and his pals are the heroes of this show. Sure, they came here to overthrow Gomah and rescue Dende, but this is more than a mission. Just being in this world makes it a better place. Goku clobbered those tax collecting goons in Episode 3 without hesitation. If he sees more of that horseshit going down, he'll do it again, so Gomah's goon squad better just watch their butts. And now the Supreme Kai revealed he has the power to dismantle all of the evil oppression collars too. Gomah was right to fear these guys.

Panzy asks the Supreme Kai's name, because she forgot, but she also wants to know his real name, the one he had in the Demon Realm before he left for the outside world. So Shin tells her he used to be called Nahare, which she recognizes as a Glind name. Goku decides to start calling him Nahare too, but neither of them care much for that, so Goku sticks with "Supreme Kai".

So the gang resumes their journey to the Tamagami, but Glorio realizes that they'll need a new PIN number now that they've changed planes. But that's no problem, because Panzy calls some guy named Peral, who hacks the mainframe or something and gives them a new PIN to use. More importantly, Peral relays the news that Hybis has returned to Demon Realm with Goku's friends.

Panzy asks if they should rendezvous with Vegeta, but Goku says they can catch up to them. Yeah, Vegeta's used to playing catch up, if you know what I mean. Goku's in a hurry to fight this Tamagami, after all.

So Goku's group reaches the town with the Tamagami, and it just stands there like a statue and waits for someone to challenge it for the Dragon Ball in its chest. Panzy warns him that not even Dabura could defeat these things, and that just gets Goku more excited. Look, Panzy, I know Dabura was a big deal in these parts, but Majin Buu turned him into a cookie and ate him, and then Goku killed Buu with a Spirit Bomb. Dabura ain't shit.

So how do you start a fight with the Tamagami? Well, you just walk up and ask him to fight, and he yells at you. Then you fight until one of you gives up or dies. Goku's like "Fuck yeah!" And that's the cliffhanger.

The next episode preview is an extra-long one, with plenty of footage from the Goku/Tamagami Three battle, so I'm pretty optimistic about Episode 8 being wall-to-wall action. Should be a real hum-dinger.

I guess this would be a good time to consider the entire series up to this point. Really, it's all been set-up, like the first act in a three-act structure. In the first act, you introduce the characters, then in the second act you introduce the problem, and in the final act you resolve the problem. I guess I could use that to infer this series is going to be about 24 episodes long. Goku will fight the Tamagami, move on to the Second Demon World, and head for the next Tamagami, but that would be dull, so there must be some kind of complication when they reach the Second Demon World that keeps the story from getting to formulaic.

One impressive aspect of this show is how it's managed to introduce and develop the characters without dumping a bunch of lore all at once. I mean, the Buu Saga highlight reel was kind of a lore dump, but all you really need to know from that story is Gomah and Degesu's reactions to the footage. You get to meet Goku, Vegeta, Piccolo, Bulma, and the Supreme Kai later, as we continue into this story. So if you're confused about why all those guys could shoot light from their hands, you'll find out when Goku explains it to Pansy and Glorio.

It is kind of weird how the heroes' trip keeps getting interrupted by mechanical breakdowns, or planes getting stolen or outright destroyed. Maybe it's just a running gag, or Toriyama designed way too many vehicles and the showrunners want to get screen time for every single one. And there's a lot of characters just shooting the breeze as they travel. But it's effective because we want to know what these characters are all about.

Glorio is extremely secretive, so pretty much anything he says or does is a potential clue to his allegiance and true agenda. When Panzy talks about the way Third Worlders are collared, he turns away and goes back in the ship. If you don't know the character, you might think he's bored or indifferent, but we know he secretly works for Dr. Arinsu, so it's more likely that he doesn't want to hear about the collars because he already knows all about them. Or maybe it's because he claims to be from the Third Demon World originally, before he took a job working in the First. So did he have a collar once, only to have it removed when he got the job? Or is he lying about his origin? Either way, he probably doesn't want to call attention to his lack of a collar.

By contrast, Panzy seems to be an open book. She readily tells the others anything they want to know, and when she contacts Peral, she doesn't bother keeping it a secret. She's our window into the way things work in the Third Demon World. It's strange that she seems to know so much about Glinds when they supposedly left for the outer universe long before she was born, but I guess we'll get to that when we get to it. There's not much mystery to Panzy, but it's fun to watch her react excitedly whenever Goku busts out a cool new Goku power.

I suppose the Supreme Kai is mostly defined here by his suspicion towards Glorio, as well as his nebulous connection to the Demon Realm. It seemed pretty clear at first. Degesu and Arinsu were his evil siblings, and Shin was going along to settle things with them. But each new episode muddies the waters a little more. They're not siblings in the human sense; they were simply all born from the same tree centuries apart from one another. So the connection between them might be weaker for that, or perhaps stronger. Shin's the Supreme Kai of Universe 7, and he has been for a long time, but he was also born in the Demon Realm (apparently) and he has a Demon Realm name. It's strongly implied that he was part of a single migration to the outer universe, but he had his own ship, so apparently he drove himself? Why did he leave the Demon Realm, and what does that have to do with his position as Supreme Kai? He's not keeping secrets or being evasive like Glorio; it's more like the other characters just aren't asking the right questions.

Then you've got Goku, who's just going out there and being Goku. Watching him eat and fart and be a rowdy lad is awesome. I've heard it said that this show is trying to introduce Goku to new viewers that don't already know about him, and there's a lot of wisdom to that approach, but also Goku makes it pretty easy to do that. Put him in a situation and let him go to work. If a strong opponent presents himself, Goku wants to fight him. If something bad happens, Goku shrugs it off and keeps on going. If people need help, Goku jumps in to give it. If there's five hamburgers on the table, Goku will eat them all and ask for another.

So yeah, I guess that about covers it for now. Next time we'll see how that Tamagami fight goes.

Okay, here's a bonus fan theory for you: People have pointed out the resemblance between Glorio and Mira, the artificial husband of Towa, Dabura's sister. So what if that's not a coincidence? What if Glorio is Dabura's son, and he's trying to play Arinsu, Kadan, Goku, and everyone else in order to get a clear shot at taking the throne from King Gomah? That's why he's so dodgy about which Demon World he's from, and who he works for, because he's secretly in this for the good of the people of the Demon Realm. Just a thought.

[satancopilotsmytardis]

How about a royalty au?

Immediately, Endeavor started by changing his kingdom's laws to say that a premature baby, by nature of being born weak, cannot be the heir to the throne. When Natsuo and Fuyumi are born and he discovers they don't have the magic he was trying to breed into either of them, he arranges an 'accident' for Natsuo (killing Dabi's only other support), and immediately sells Fuyumi off to be wed as soon as she's 13 to gain more land/power and not have to deal with her.

When a border dispute comes up between the Demon King's territory and Endeavor's, Endeavor goes to negotiate and settle things with the Demon Prince who has been sent as a representative. After a long, tense talk, they come to an agreement, and seeing an opportunity to get rid of another problem, Endeavor also offers up Dabi to the Prince as a gift to do with him what he pleases (Be that a human sacrifice, slavery, whatever) and the Prince accepts.

Dabi is, of course, not happy about this whole deal and is pretty worried he's gonna get killed when he gets taken back to the other kingdom. He is extremely confused when he's treated like a revered guest and given fine things and pampered constantly, with Shigaraki promising that no matter his request, he will have it done for him. He proceeds to be extremely standoffish and rude until he finally finds out that their understanding of demon culture is all wrong, and by Endeavor giving him Dabi as a gift, he essentially entered Dabi into a contract with Shigaraki. Shig will someday get Dabi's eternal soul, but he has to complete a request the universe deems equivalent before he can collect.

Once that's illuminated Dabi moves out of the palace and learns how to be a farmer or other kind of modest worker because he never wants to find out what would be considered equivalent to someone as broken as he is (as he has been told his entire life). But the prince comes to see him every day, and eventually convinces Dabi to move back into the summer palace, but getting him to 'buy' it for a handful of gold he made on his first harvest since if it's a transaction, it can't be seen as equivalent to his soul.

Cue Shigaraki blatantly falling in love with Dabi over the course of the story and every romantic gesture always coming with some kind of small transaction. Whenever he wants to do something for Dabi or give him something, he demands a small price. He buys a first-edition copy of Dabi's favorite novel that was signed by the author? He sells it to Dabi for a copper. Shigaraki kills Fuyumi's husband and frees her from that contract? He insists that Dabi owes him dinner. Eventually, Dabi tells Shigaraki he wants to get married, and Shig's heart fucking breaks, but he simply says that Dabi will have to pay him the same amount that he spends on the ring for his betrothed once he finds them in order to be free of his contract and able to live out the rest of his days in peace. Dabi insists that he doesn't want to pay for the ring and that it is his request that Shigaraki gives him one instead, which is the best confession he can manage. He trades his soul for Shigaraki's heart and Shigaraki keeps Dabi by his side forever. (Even centuries later, it's said in quiet moments you can hear them bartering with one another asking for grapes or figs in exchange for kisses)

[alexanderwales]

Game Review: Factorio: Space Age (pt 2)

This is the second part of my review of Factorio: Space Age, covering the planets. This will have more spoilers than the previous section, but also include more cohesive thoughts on the expansion as a whole.

Vulcanus

Once you've built a spaceship, you have a choice of three planets to go to, and you can do them in any order you'd like. Each planet comes with its own researchable rewards, which require you to build up a base on the planet capable of making a science pack and shipping it into space (or alternately, to remake all sciences on the planet, but this is stupid and pointless given what lies further down the tech tree).

I chose Vulcanus first. There are five resources here, three of which can't be found anywhere else: coal, sulfuric acid, calcite, tungsten ore, and lava. Lava gets used to make anything having to do with copper and iron using the foundry, which is most of the things in Factorio. Sulfuric acid gets used with calcite to make water, which is one of the notable things missing from Vulcanus, along with oil. Plastic requires a long chain to make: coal liquefaction into heavy oil into light oil into petroleum into plastic. Because rockets require plastic twice (LDS and blue chips), you eventually need to set up a fairly sizeable build for this.

I didn't find any of this to be too interesting. Infinite resources are at least different, but there was nothing that fundamentally changed how I view the game, and I ended up setting up a bus with more fluids than usual, mostly making on-site plates, pipes, steel, etc. The art for it is cool, and impassable lava is at least a little constraining, but I didn't feel like it was all that great.

Tungsten ore is the main material from Vulcanus, and it's defended by the other major thing that makes the place unique, the worms. Each worm has a territory, and until you've killed your first worm, you don't have access to a tungsten ore patch, only loose scraps that have been laying around.

The worms are long and segmented, very distinct from the biters. They disable electronics with their attacks, making fountains of lava beneath you, and overall I think they're cool ... except that they're a little too easy to defeat. I set up a grid of 50 turrets with armor-piercing ammo, and that proved sufficient.

This is a boring solution. I wish it didn't work. It was the first thing I tried, and afterward I thought ... well, what was the point of that? I don't have a good solution to what you'd want to do to stop this from working, but I do think this is sort of bad design, since it's a "more dakka" solution. I've also seen that you can build a tank and take one out with a single uranium shell, which is even worse design. What I wanted was a fight were I needed to use poison capsules, land mines, strategically placed turrets, etc., some kind of mixed-asset offensive package, and what I got was fifty turrets in a stupid grid. I really do try to not be one of those players that optimizes myself out of having fun, but it's hard to motivate myself to do something the pointlessly hard way when there's something simple, easy, and foolproof.

The other thing about demolishers is that they have their own territory, and that territory never changes. This means that if you want to expand beyond a relatively modest starting patch, you need to kill them ... but unless you're going for a megabase, you don't need to kill more than three or four of them across the entire time playing the game, and since they only attack if you build in their territory, those worm encounters become like 1% of the Vulcanus experience.

I would have liked if the worm territories changed. I think it would have been cool if they fought each other for dominance over an area in a way you could capitalize on, or if they would expand into places that no one had claimed, or places a dead rival had left behind. It would have been cool to require the player to build up some do-nothing machines or other infrastructure to keep the worms back, like a sort of "build this at the edge of your territory to be in constant motion to convince the worms that it's occupied" type of thing. But instead, you just kill the worms and that's that, you never see them again unless you go hunting them. According to my end-of-game statistics, I killed 8 small demolishers and 2 medium demolishers, which was probably 5 more worms than I needed to kill, since I ended up with a lot of empty space I didn't do anything with.

So overall, Vulcanus is the weakest of the planets for me, and I think that's at least partly down to the under-use of the worms and the simplicity of the "new" mechanics.

Fulgora

Fulgora contains the ruins of a vast civilization, and there are no resources except the heavy oil between islands and the scrap that's left behind. Solar is terrible on Fulgora, but there are lightning storms at night, and lightning towers can collect it into accumulators to power your base.

Scrap gets "recycled" into a bunch of different things, and so it quickly because a nightmare of sorting things out, dealing with excess products, and turning complex materials into simple ones. There are no iron plates, those need to be recycled from iron gears. There are no copper platers, those need to be recycled from copper wire. Blue chips, which in any other circumstance need to be jealously guarded, are found in abundance.

I found this to be great fun. The challenge is certainly unique, turning the production chain on its head, but it has a nice "ramp" to it, as first you get a pile of crap, then you turn it into things, then you uncover excesses that are gumming it up, and the problems keep coming, but they usually come after you've solved some other problem.

When I started, I did a sushi belt (ed. - a sushi belt is a belt that contains multiple unsorted good, controlled by circuit conditions which allow certain limits of each item to go by, named after conveyor belt sushi restuarants), which was good enough for the short term and got me all the basic technologies, but ran into all the problems that come with a sushi belt, and switched over to a belt-based sorting system of splitters that could handle two full green belts of scrap input.

There is, for me, one big miss on Fulgora, which is that the lightning storms are basically not a challenge at all. You set up a grid of substations, each with a lightning rod, and that protects your base. You set up accumulator fields on one tip of the island, and this is a pretty boring solution. If you went to Gleba first, you can instead set up heating towers that burn the fuel you get from scrap, but this doesn't seem like it saves terribly much more space, and either way you need the lightning towers, so I'm not sure it's worth anything, and I never implemented that plan.

One of the other big challenges of Fulgora is that it's a set of islands, and there's no way to place anything on the oil sands. Additionally, there are two types of islands, one with a fair amount of space and minimal scrap, the other with tons of scrap and almost no room. In theory, this encourages a rail world, but in practice, the first island I plopped down on was the one I stayed on the entire time, and my rail network, such as it was, extended to only two of the smaller islands to guarantee all the scrap I would ever need. I think I rolled high on one of those islands: 63M scrap is a ton, but that's what I ended up with on default settings. With the drills from Vulcanus, expected output is double that, and with the legendary drills I can now produce, it would be 787M. There's simply not a need to place rails elsewhere.

I do feel that Fulgora would have benefitted from some enemies of some kind, either those that lived on the oil fields, so you'd have to build defenses on the edges of the islands, or some kind of robot enemy that you needed to kill to take islands from. Given the setup of an abandoned high-tech planet, and the electrical weapons you unlock there, it would have been nice to have some reason or chance to use them. I've definitely played Factorio scenarios with bot opponents and buildings that can be captured after the AI's defenses have been breached.

Still, the scrap sorting puzzle was a good one, with many solutions, and Fulgora was a ton of fun.

Gleba

Gleba is a swampy fungi planet. There are no conventional resources except for stone, and pretty much everything else is derived from two plants, jellynut and yamako, that get broken down.

The main mechanic of the planet is spoilage, where materials break down over time. Jellynut and yamako last for about an hour, the products you get from them are much less, a material made from both of them, bioflux, lasts a lot longer, and nutrients, which are fed to the new building, the biochamber, last hardly any time at all.

Spoilage is cool because it requires a very different mindset. Normally in Factorio, you're building up big buffers to minimize downtime. On Gleba, you want as little buffer as possible, just constant rivers of materials flowing by to be as fresh as possible, because if anything stays still for too long, there's a chance it'll spoil, which will stop the machine trying to take the ingredient, which can create a spoilage cascade.

My initial plan was to have some kind of circuit-based just-in-time system, where every machine would be monitored in order to see what ingredients it needed, and everything would be made fresh-to-order.

I ended up not doing this, mostly because demand stays relatively constant, and where it doesn't stay constant, you can just eat the spoilage costs. There's so much abundance that you really don't need to care about half your crops going to waste.

The other reason I didn't end up going with this is because unfortunately, the "river of goods" solution has essentially no complications to it, and you can simply dump everything into a recycler/incinerator at the end. In some of the Factorio overhaul mods, this concept is called "voiding", a way of dealing with byproducts, and if you make voiding easy, you essentially remove a logistical challenge, which means less gameplay. I kind of get why they made this easy, but ... I don't know. I did kind of want something that would require a big, complicated solution, a factory that dances on the edge of clogging itself up.

I ended up with a completely belt-based system, with a belt of jelly and mash, then a belt of bioflux, all nutrients made on demand, and production lines in defined blocks. The final build does 520 science/minute, which becomes 2Ks/m with full-prod biolabs, most of which goes into the trash, since it's not actually consumed all the time.

One of my favorite little puzzles of Gleba was the metals, which are produced with bacteria that spoil in a minute, becoming ore. There's a process, with bioflux, of having bacteria make more bacteria, but if the bacteria ever stop flowing (if, for example, you have enough ore), then they spoil and die, and the whole production line stops. So you need to build in a little kickstart system that will inject new bacteria if it's needed, and I found that to be delightful to work on.

The other major thing on Gleba are the enemies, which are pentapods. Pentapod eggs are necessary to make biochambers and science, but after you have one, you can set up breeding, which is dangerous given they can make more of themselves, but definitely the way to go. There are three forms of pentapod, all with their own weaknesses, and ...

Look, I went to Gleba last, but I put up a defensive wall fairly early on using only materials that I had gotten from Gleba, and then basically never had any cause to think about the pentapods again. Because I slapped this down with blueprints, it took all of ten minutes, most of which was spent fixing the kind of scuffed corners (skill issue). So I would say the amount that I actually got to experience the pentapods was pretty minimal. I also shipped in four artillery turrets that are crowded around a box of ammo, supplied by site-made shells using imported tungsten, and the circle almost entirely contains my pollution cloud, so in theory it's just an easily solved problem.

It might have been different if I had gone to Gleba first, I don't know and can't say without actually doing that, but I would have liked a little more of a challenge, and this might be where being a veteran hinders me.

Overall, I really enjoyed Gleba, the mechanics were new and unique, the little puzzles inherent in design were interesting, and I thought that overall it had the best art direction of the four planets, which is saying something, because I think they're all great on the front.

Aquilo

On every other planet, a "cold start" is possible, building up from just what you find laying around. Aquilo is different: it's a planet with ammonia oceans and some scattered liquid vents, and part of the point of it is that you need materials from outside, including anything made from iron, copper, or stone. You can't softlock on other planets, but you can softlock on Aquilo.

Aside from requiring pretty solid planetary logistics, Aquilo's main mechanic is heat. It's cold enough there that bots don't work very well, and everything has to have a heat pipe near it for it to function, including pipes and belts. To heat up a heat pipe takes either nuclear, fusion, or the heat towers that burn up fuel, and if the heat ever stops flowing, everything will seize up, requiring heroic efforts to get running again.

There's not all that much to Aquilo. You pull up slurry from the ocean, split it into ammonia and ice, use them together to make ice platforms, import concrete, and then combine oil and ammonia to make rocket fuel, which is used to both launch rockets and to toss into heating towers for power and heat to keep everything running.

The science pack is easy, though it require imported holmium plate, and my entire 200 science per minute production line was run off a tiny cluster of buildings that would have been pretty trivial to expand.

It seems to me that Aquilo is at least partly inspired by Seablock, an infamous mod where you start with almost nothing on a tiny island that you have to expand with the mineral sludge you dredge up with an offshore pump. But Seablock is a very long mod, one that typically takes hundreds of hours, and here ... well, there are a handful of challenges, and they're not all that challenging. I think I could probably list them out now.

Making ammonia also makes ice. You can void excess ice through repeated recycling, but ammonia can't be voided except by combining it with crude oil to make solid fuel, which can then be put in an incinerator. I solved this problem with a simple circuit condition.

Science and some crafting uses coolant, which must be cooled back down after use. If you just keep making coolant, eventually the system will seize up, since you won't be able to put more hot coolant into the system. But because this is a lossy cycle (you lose half the coolant) you can just hook a pump up to a tank and only inject more hot coolant into the system when below a threshold.

Outposts need their own heating for the pumps to work, and those outposts are, on default settings, quite far away. This requires setting up a self-sufficient little heating module that's either serviced by train or which runs entirely with materials found at the outpost. I ended up doing two different modules, one for oil outposts and the other for everywhere else ... but I never actually had to use them, because there were sufficient resources for tens of thousands of resources right next to the starting area.

As the "final boss", I am underwhelmed, and even as one of four planets I find myself a little underwhelmed. I don't know how much postgame stuff I'm going to do, but I can't see that there's going to be much challenge in going large on Aquilo, except that I might have to build another ship for moving in materials (as currently I have a single ship that makes a circuit of the solar system for materials and also handles shipments of science).

There is also, again, a lack of enemy. Once the rocket fuel setup was done, I had a single scare when ammonia backed up and stopped ice production, which shut down the water chem plant, which killed the turbines and stopped power to the entire base. But that didn't even freeze anything out, and it was fixed pretty easily from a restart module I'd built earlier, and after that, the ammonia issue was fixed to never have that problem again. If the cold is the enemy, it's not enough of one for my tastes.

Integration

With each planet you conquer, you get a new science pack, which opens up new technologies, and in theory you, can use them on other planets. These buildings are very powerful, and so there's some incentive to return to old factories, rip up old designs, and install new ones using the better buildings.

I did eventually do this, but I'm not sure how much I actually needed to. My furnace stacks were replaced by the foundries from Vulcanus, supplies by a hauler ship exclusively for calcite, though I did make an abortive attempt to just harvest calcite from space using a stationary space platform.

(I made four of them before giving up on the project, and found out only later that asteroid spawn rates depend on how many chunks large the ship is, so the ideal build has asteroid collectors on very long arms, and there's nothing in the game that tells you about the asteroid spawning thing, so ... whatever, it's opaque and very gamey hidden stuff, of the kind that I hate.)

I replaced my circuit production areas with the EMP, which saved vast quantities of resources and also made more circuits at a much faster rate within the same blueprint. I upgraded most belts to green.

I didn't end up using the biochambers much, in part because they need nutrients to run, and 50% prod with more module slots is great, but not so great that I wanted to set up a biter egg farm that could potentially blow up in my face.

Cryochambers just came too late for me to implement them anywhere, though I probably would if I kept playing to the megabase stage, or if I'm gunning for an achievement that requires updating Nauvis.

So I think, strangely, when considering how the planets impact each other, they ... kind of don't all that much? Yes, having foundries on Gleba means that you can make all your belts and things at a fraction of the cost, but how much doesn't that really impact anything? It meant that my ore production areas could be smaller, I guess. Is that worth anything? I kind of don't think so, if I'm considering the main gameplay to be in terms of design and decisions. Foundries saved me from having to lay down a furnace stack. EMPs saved me from having to have expansive red circuit lines to get the blue chips necessary for rocket launches.

Ideally, I would have liked one or two killer techs that mostly work through combining each planet's "thing". Like imagine that there was a combination recycler and foundry that melted down whatever was put into it, giving you molten copper and iron in exchange, creating a whole new kind of problem in exchange for ... I don't know, much much faster recycling, or less loss from recycling, or maybe a recipe that allowed true voiding. Or if you went to Gleba and then Vulcanus, and were able to bring biochambers that would allow the cultivation of some new specimen specific to that environment, maybe something that would allow better plastic production, or could pull water out of the air, both of which are kind of a pain in the ass on Vulcanus. Couldn't there be some kind of new bacteria swimming in the oil sands of Fulgora? Not something that would trivialize any challenge, something that would be a reward for having two flavors of research from two different planets. Ideally, there'd be six of these in total, allowing for each pair to benefit each other pair, but at that point I start to feel like I'm just asking for new content.

I cracked my game back open to check the tech tree, and all the Aquilo techs require all three planets. The are two techs that require mixed packs: Rail Support Foundations, which simplify rails for Fulgora, and Railgun Damage, which increases the power of the railgun. That's it. This screams missed opportunity to me.

So in terms of how the planets and their mechanics interact with each other ... I would say that they mostly don't, which is a bit of a shame. The biochamber in particular requires nutrients, which makes it effectively unusable on Vulcanus and Fulgora ... unless you're shipping in heroic quantities of bioflux, I guess, though I don't think that I could ever see myself doing that. I guess maybe on Vulcanus, which has the aforementioned plastics problem? But it feels like the kind of thing that would mostly be done for a stunt rather than because it was actually the right thing to do. And potentially on Nauvis, but it does seem like a megabase thing to do, rather than normal play. I will have to do the math, this too might be a skill issue.

(Real quick: 1 Bioflux makes 8 nutrients in a standard biochamber, which is 12 with prod, which is 24 MJ. A biochamber consumes 500kW, so with no spoilage nutrients allow 2 crafts of the 2 second oil cracking recipes, which means that every Bioflux can, at most, turn 960 heavy oil into 1080 light oil rather than the 720 light oil it would normally crack into. But obviously since the Bioflux has to be shipped in, it ends up being less than that. This is obviously more effective than shipping over oil itself, but ... man, I don't know, this seems very weak, even with adding in productivity to other steps. I guess the use case in Nauvis, where you're in theory shipping Bioflux anyway in order to feed captive biters, but that's still premised on an oil shortage that I never actually experienced.)

I do also want to say that quality had very little impact on my play. I tended to carry around some high quality quality modules and use them when crafting infrastructure, but in most cases it just wasn't much to write home about. It's most important for the ships, and for personal stuff, but it never felt that important.

And finally, I do want to give a shoutout to how easy and effective remote viewing was. One of the things I'm going to eventually do, after a Factorio break, is the 40 hour achievement run, and I have to imagine that a lot of that is just landing on a planet, doing the unlocks, building a rocket to get back, then having starter bots do all the actual base building for me, which is pretty cool.

Conclusion

Space Age took me about 140 hours, and I would say that about 10 of that was idle time while I was waiting for legendary ship parts or for a buildup of materials. The Jacknape-class ships have an issue with ammo production where they can more or less keep up with rockets, but the belt buffer goes from the front of the ship to the back, meaning that it empties from where it's needed most, rather than emptying where it's needed least, and yeah, having a fully stacked buffer takes a hot minute of waiting. Similarly, the quality module I made works over sufficient time scales, but especially while waiting on quality quality modules, there's a real temptation to just leave it running rather than actively playing.

130 hours for a veteran player is a long time for an expansion, much longer than I would have expected, even knowing what I knew about the expansion going in. Some of that time I don't count as expansion time, like all the parts where I was just doing normal Factorio stuff, and I did end up building adapted malls on each of the planets, which added on more time that could have been cut out by making an effective blueprint the first go-around, and which I don't really count as expansion time, because there's not much that's unique about making the new malls. But even if I'm arbitrarily cutting things out, that's still a ton of time.

Overall, I'm extremely happy with it, and I think I'll be more happy with it once there's another round of iteration, QoL, changes based on feedback, and modding. The modding scene for Factorio is really really good, and I have to imagine that the expansion is only going to make it better, particularly some of the changes that were made to implementation.

But I do think that it could have been more, and maybe this is just coming from a guy with more than a thousand hours in this game and multiple overhaul mods under his belt. It's very possible I would have had a better time with it if I'd chosen a higher difficulty, though of course that's very hard to know ahead of time. Certainly there were some design misses for me, and at least some of that is because I have enough experience that I can fix things with circuitry, plan a base that doesn't immediately become spaghetti, and see the deadlocks coming. I'm not saying that it wasn't hard, because parts of it certainly were, and I'm not saying that I made a bunch of perfect bases with no major flaws, because there were designs that needed to be ripped out and belts that needed to squeak through. But I think I would have preferred more complexity, more problems, more more more, and I'll have to hope that mods can give it to me.

All that said, this is the best expansion I've ever played, they put a ton of work into making sure that every planet was truly different from the others artistically and mechanically, and it's a 10/10 from me.

(I do plan on getting all achievements ... eventually. The "win in 40 hour" achievement seems very doable, and that's the hardest of the lot, though the others might take some significant time. It took me multiple years to finally getting around to doing the last green chip achievement, so I'm in no rush.)

[syn4k]

Pix was up late again as he often was, especially when the seasons changed to spring. The night flowers that bloomed in the Capital were especially nice, and perfumed the air gently while he shined his flashlight on a bit of dirt near the Catacombs.

Nearby, gravel crunched.

Pix kept poking around in the dirt. There were a lot of night creatures around here after all, and Winchester, who he was letting roam about tonight. He didn't have any meetings planned, after all. The gravel crunched again.

"Hello?"

Pix looked up at the sound of his own voice.

"Oh, hello," he said automatically, standing up and brushing the dirt off of his jeans. "Uh, can I help you?"

"You have my voice," said the other man in a tone that was a good mix of suspicion, wariness, and wonder. Well as he might.

"And you have mine," said Pix. "Please don't tell me your name is also Pixlriffs and you're an archaeologist."

"Well, you got the name right," said the other Riffs, scratching the back of his head. "Not an archaeologist, though."

"Thank the gods," said Pix. "Well, I was working on something, but if you need a place to stay for the night-"

"Oh, no," said Riffs hastily. "I don't want to bother whatever you've got going on here. I just sort of wandered in, and I'd like directions."

"Bother?" asked Pix, looking a bit closer. "Dude, you have no idea how rare it is to just randomly be met with another version of..." he waved one hand vaguely, "whatever this is. Besides, trust me, I have had much bigger bothers than whatever you may be. I can get you a map, but most of the server is incredibly dangerous at night. You can stay out here if you want, but I'm making some tea."

Pix turned around and walked towards the entrance to the Catacombs, half hoping that this Pix would follow him, half hoping he wouldn't. This was definitely not something they taught you how to manage in college. Something was definitely a bit off about this guy, but Pix figured that if he was anything like him (which he probably was), he'd like some tea at least.

In the lower levels of the Catacombs, Pix had a small electric kettle/coffee maker and a modest but well-kept kitchen. He may be sleeping in a literal crypt, but he preferred to have power for simple things like this. Putting some water in from a sink nearby and humming as he filled in the kettle and grabbed a teabag from the cabinet, he heard quiet tentative footsteps coming down the stone steps.

"Welcome to my humble abode," he said without turning around. "I have a few extra cups- if you're fine with a mug, all my teacups are dirty. I have a couple small containers of instant coffee, some chamomile tea, Earl Grey, black tea..."

"I mean, if you insist," said Riffs from behind him, sitting in one of the chairs surrounding a small wooden table. "I don't plan on staying for long." His voice was tinged with something strange, maybe guilt, maybe grief, and that was a tone so strange to hear in his own voice that Pix finally turned around to get a good look at his doppelgänger.

Pix didn't look in the mirror a lot, but he knew enough about his own face to see that this man had basically the exact same one as his, albeit a bit thinner in the cheekbones. Actually, he was a lot thinner everywhere. He wore a long sand-covered cloak embroidered carefully with- was that copper thread? alongside simple brown khakis, a light blue shirt and a set of wayworn brown leather sandals.

Riffs was looking at the table despite sitting sideways in his chair, and Pix figured it wasn't worth the trouble to try and make eye contact.

"So," he said, folding his arms and leaning back against the counter as the water behind began to steam. "What brings you here?"

Riffs shrugged, a small, embarrassed thing. "I wander around a lot," he replied. "Sometimes I end up in some... strange places."

"Well, clearly," said Pix. "It'd take a lot of strangeness for you to end up here of all places. Caffeinated or non-caffeinated tea?"

"Either works," said Riffs, looking up for the first time during the conversation. "I'm used to staying up late anyways." His eyes were a dark, stormy grey. Pix nodded and turned back to his tea, wondering if this was all some elaborate prank. Joel's work, probably.

Then again, Pix wasn't sure that Joel had the power to bring dead men back from the history books.

"My map's somewhere in the other room, but I can give you a brief," he said as he dropped the teabags into the cups. "Sugar?"

"No thanks."

Pix nodded. "You're currently in the Ancient Capital, which is essentially where I poke around in the dirt for fun and store a bunch of old artifacts in crumbling buildings. To the east is Gobland, headed by Emperor Fwhip-"

"Fwhip?" asked Riffs.

"Yeah," said Pix. He sighed. "And I have a feeling you might recognize some of the other names here as well, although most of them don't really care for history."

"Thank the sands," muttered Riffs under his breath. Pix, ignoring that, took the teabags out of the cups. Walking over to the table, he set them down- one for him, one for Riffs.

"Thank you," said Riffs, nodding before taking a sip. Pix nodded back and took a sip himself. There was a quite awkward silence of about 20 seconds as both men clearly tried to figure out how to start what was sure to be a mortifying conversation.

"So," started Riffs slowly. "You're obviously me, but also not me. You're different somehow."

"I've noticed," said Pix, taking another sip.

Riffs sighed and ran his fingers through his (rather short) hair. "How do you even talk about things like this?" he asked with a short laugh. "It's like, 12am. I'm not entirely convinced this isn't a fever dream of some sort."

"I think both of us are awake," said Pix, pinching his own arm lightly just to make sure. "I do have a question for you, though."

"Go ahead."

"Care to explain how the Copper King of Pixandria ended up 12,000 miles from this location in the dead of night when he's been dead in this world for over two thousand years?"

Riffs raised his eyebrows, but managed to keep his drink down. Impressive. "How did you figure me out so fast?"

"How about we exchange answers. I'm curious."

Riffs laughed again, a quieter thing this time. "Alright. When I said I was wandering, I meant the desert. I uh, did a thing I'm not too proud of, so I decided to go on a hike to think things over."

This sounded familiar. "A very long hike, hmm?" answered Pix.

"Okay, you answer me now."

"Well," started Pix, putting his cup down, "I've been studying you for roughly fifteen years now. There are records, you know, and I've translated them. I know about the demon. I know about the ancient emperors. I'm not sure if it's just some cosmic coincidence that the guy who ruled the Desert Empire happens to share my name and face, but I do think this may have happened for a reason."

"You, my good sir, are terrifying," said Riffs matter-of-factly.

Pix shrugged. "I try not to be. I call it being direct. I'm sorry if I'm pressing too hard," he said with a small laugh of his own. "It's just not every day that you meet the Copper King in the flesh. It goes against my nature to not ask you a bajillion questions."

"I mean, that's fair," said Riffs with a shrug. "But, fill me in a little. What do your books tell you?"

"Records are scarce and often very damaged," said Pix, "but those that exist say that the Copper King mysteriously vanished from his empire about 5 years after its height."

"And after that?" Riffs asked quietly.

"It faded completely into oblivion," said Pix. "All mentions of it had completely ceased by the time the Fall rolled around."

There was a silence of about a minute then, in which Riffs looked at the countertop, then the ceiling, then the countertop again, then the mug, wearing the expression of a man who had been wrestling with something very large for very long. Pix kept his eyes down.

"I'm sorry," he said eventually.

"No," said Riffs, looking up and looking him clearly in the eye. "I'm the one who asked. Would you like to know the real meaning behind that 'mysterious dissapearance'?"

"Fill me in," said Pix, leaning back.

"The Copper King," said Riffs in a grandiose but unfathomably bitter tone, "exiled himself 5 years after his kingdom entered its golden age for the harm he'd done to his people and his Vigil, deeming himself unfit to walk in its light, and never once looked back." He drained his cup of tea.

So that was it.

"Well, I'd need a citation for that," said Pix, "but that'd look great in a thesis paper."

"We even have the same humor," said Riffs, exasperated. "How did we turn out so differently?"

Pix took a good, long look at the man sitting across from him at the table, perpendicular to the counter. His voice was indeed filled with both shame and grief, but another thing now too- loathing. That was a question Pix could not answer over one cup of tea, anyways, but he did have an inkling.

"Records also say," he said softly, "that the people of Pixandria looked for their king years after his dissapearance, right up until the collapse of the government. Since official records end there, there's a good chance they kept going later than that."

"Did they ever say why?" asked Riffs, staring at the ceiling.

"Every year, it is told, they added another candle to his pile in the Vigil."

Riffs continued looking at the ceiling.

"If you're looking for closure, you won't find it here," said Pix. "I've got my own life going on. I can point you in the right direction, but not much more than that. Seldom do the annals of the past give satisfying conclusions to present problems, but sometimes they can give people ideas."

Riffs sighed and sat back up in his chair, hunching forwards a bit now. "Wise words," he said. "I'm glad you've found your peace here. I, in the meanwhile, am still looking for mine. Maybe I'm destined to wander forever, who knows?"

"If you end up popping up back here in another 20 or so years, me and my kettle will be waiting for you," said Pix. Riffs nodded.

"The uh, the map's in the room one level up and to the left in an item frame," said Pix. "You can keep it. I can always make another one."

Riffs nodded and stood up, looking up the stairs then back at Pix. "Well, this is goodbye then."

"Yep."

"See you around, maybe?"

"See you around perhaps, and may the stars light your journey well."

Riffs gave him a smile, the first one Pix had seen from him all evening and, with a rustle of fabric up the stairs, he was gone.

[mariana-oconnor]

The Red Circle pt 1

What is the red circle? Who is the red circle? Why is the red circle?

“Well, Mrs. Warren, I cannot see that you have any particular cause for uneasiness, nor do I understand why I, whose time is of some value, should interfere in the matter. I really have other things to engage me.” So spoke Sherlock Holmes and turned back to the great scrapbook in which he was arranging and indexing some of his recent material.

I might be wrong, but I think this is the first time in the stories we've seen Holmes be dismissive and kind of rude to a client without having seen them give him a reason. And we can't even say that Mrs Warren hasn't given him a reason at this point, because the story starts in the middle of the conversation. She might have been a right arsehole prior to this.

But this story does start out with far more of the vibe of adaptations than I'm used to.

Scrapbooking is vitally important, though. Not to be interrupted.

But the landlady had the pertinacity and also the cunning of her sex.

Watson ensuring that we are reminded that sexism exists.

The following little speech Mrs Warren gives doesn't indicate that she was being terrible before this story started, so I guess Holmes really was just Like That here.

"Why, bless you, Mrs. Warren, if I were your lodger you often would not see me for weeks on end.” “No doubt, sir; but this is different. It frightens me, Mr. Holmes. I can't sleep for fright. To hear his quick step moving here and moving there from early morning to late at night, and yet never to catch so much as a glimpse of him—it's more than I can stand."

No, that's exactly what it would be like to have Holmes as a lodger. Only punctuated with strange people running up and down the stairs and with the occasional threat of violence against your property.

But maybe this guy is just a ghost. Ghosts deserve privacy, too.

“He asked my terms, sir. I said fifty shillings a week. There is a small sitting-room and bedroom, and all complete, at the top of the house.” “Well?” “He said, ‘I'll pay you five pounds a week if I can have it on my own terms.’

Alright, now I'm suspicious. 50 shillings a week is £250, roughly. And £5 is twice that. Anyone who is willing to pay double for something is automatically suspicious. He's just handing out the equivalent of £100 in cash every fortnight. It's like the Copper Beeches all over again.

“It was his particular direction that we should always, when he rang, leave his meal upon a chair, outside his door. Then he rings again when he has finished, and we take it down from the same chair. If he wants anything else he prints it on a slip of paper and leaves it.”

OK... I've got to assume at this point that the man in the rooms is not the man who rented the rooms. He went out, other guy came back. There's no other reason that no one would have seen him at all. Someone's hiding from something up there.

"What can it matter to him that his landlady should have a word of his writing? Still, it may be as you say. Then, again, why such laconic messages?”

Doesn't speak English and his first language is not written in the Roman alphabet, I'd guess. Single words mean not needing to construct sentences, printing would be easier for someone not used to the alphabet. This coupled with the title of the story makes me think Russia.

“But surely you or the girl enter his room of a morning?” “No, sir; he looks after himself entirely.” “Dear me! that is certainly remarkable."

What? A man who can look after himself?

The sexism, it cuts both ways!

"But, dear me! this cigarette stub is certainly remarkable. The gentleman was bearded and moustached, you say?” “Yes, sir.” “I don't understand that. I should say that only a clean-shaven man could have smoked this."

So it is a different man - or woman, I guess.

or he shaved.

"Why, Watson, even your modest moustache would have been singed.”

This feels like shade. Like something you'd say to your friend if he was doing Movember and couldn't grow a moustache to save his life, but you were actually a Victorian gentleman. It's just got such a tone of 'even your moustache, Watson. Even yours.'

Drag him, Sherlock.

"We have no excuse for an intrusion upon his privacy until we have some reason to think that there is a guilty reason for it."

What a revolutionary concept! I wonder if the modern world could learn anything from this. Probably not.

"I can imagine that the word was taken out of a dictionary, which would give the noun but not the plural."

Rubbish dictionary.

"‘Surely Jimmy will not break his mother's heart’—that appears to be irrelevant."

I beg to differ. I need to know if Jimmy broke his mother's heart. How could you Jimmy? You should be ashamed of yourself. Your poor mother worried half to death and you're out there requiring her to take out ads in the newspaper to try to reach you. Callus boy! Cruel boy!

"‘Be patient. Will find some sure means of communications. Meanwhile, this column. G.’"

That is significantly less cryptic than I thought it would be. Do these conspirators have no sense of style. Why doesn't the caged whale know nothing of the mighty deeps? Does the ill-built tower not tremble mightily at the butterfly's passage? Can no one say hooray hooray for the spinster's sister's daughter these days? Pathetic. Put some effort into your clandestine communications.

"‘The path is clearing. If I find chance signal message remember code agreed—One A, two B, and so on. You will hear soon. G.’"

Seriously, you're going to publish your code in the paper. Not that it even matters. You're doing a simple substitution encryption of numbers for letters, and you're not even offsetting the numbers at all. These people are very obviously not professional spies. I am ashamed for them.

Willing to bet there is a significant number of people in London who have been following these ads with glee like an Edwardian soap opera, eagerly awaiting the next instalment. There's no way no one has been paying attention to this.

"Mr. Warren is a timekeeper at Morton and Waylight's, in Tottenham Court Road. He has to be out of the house before seven. Well, this morning he had not gone ten paces down the road when two men came up behind him, threw a coat over his head, and bundled him into a cab that was beside the curb. They drove him an hour, and then opened the door and shot him out."

Did not expect the husband to be involved.

In Mystery Lodger's defence, there's nothing connecting them to this abduction. Although the coincidence seems unlikely. Why would they need the husband out of the way, though? Unless they thought the husband was the person hiding?

"What I did not foresee is that we should find a woman, and no ordinary woman, Watson.”

Gender prejudices causing problems again. I did foresee that, which is why I've been trying to use gender neutral terms for the replacement.

What does Holmes mean by 'no ordinary woman' though? I don't understand that.

Also, this makes the people mistaking Mr Warren for her even less believable. I doubt they look very alike, particularly given the fashions of the time and the stricter adherence to expected gender 'norms'.

"The printed messages, as is now evident, were to prevent her sex being discovered by her writing."

"The attack upon Mr. Warren further shows that the enemy, whoever they are, are themselves not aware of the substitution of the female lodger for the male."

Oh, we're actually addressing that? Thank you. It made no sense. But it does make things more convoluted. So only Holmes and Watson know that the woman has replaced the man.

“Education never ends, Watson. It is a series of lessons with the greatest for the last."

Does he mean death? Is the implication that as you die you think 'well, this was an important lesson for me to learn. Now I know that if I do that, then I die. 😵"

Is she on the run from family? A cruel husband? A cruel would-be husband? A gang? A government?

"A single flash—that is A, surely. Now, then. How many did you make it? Twenty. Do did In. That should mean T."

The substitution cypher is with flashing lights?

That's a terrible idea. That's the worst idea I've ever seen. What if she blinks? What if she loses count? There are twenty six letters. If I had to sit and count twenty six flashes I would go mad. T is one of the most common letters and, as you said, that's 20. This is the least efficient way of doing anything. Morse code exists, and I bet you could get a little printed guide for it that the woman could have had. Or you could have written it down for her. And then you wouldn't have needed to spell it out in the newspaper.

This is the worst. I hate it.

They came more rapidly than before—so rapid that it was hard to follow them.

And by hard you mean fucking impossible. WORST CODE EVER.

P is already 16 flashes, and that's the first letter you've got. Then you've got an R in there? Why? This is torture. I bet the guy was cut off by someone who wanted to put him out of his misery. You know why he was cut off mid word? BECAUSE IT TOOK HIM FIFTEEN MINUTES TO SAY ONE WORD.

Flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash [BREAK] Flash-flash-flash-flash-flash [BREAK] Flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash [BREAK] Flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash [BREAK] Flash-flash-flash [BREAK] Flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash [BREAK] Flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash [BREAK] Flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash-flash

So for that one word, that's 93 flashes. I cannot be arsed counting that long. I'm sorry. I can't. Guess I'm just going to die or whatever then.

eta: just realised that the 'man who looks after himself? Impossible!' thing is a clue. Oh boy. Of course it's a woman, a man would never be able to cope on his own. 🙄

[charlesandmartine]

Thursday 14th November 2024

The sun has risen, and the truckstop is in full swing. We sat outside our unit at our sophisticated stainless steel bistro style table inches away from the back of the Ford Ranger. The rear of the truckies kitchen just a few more inches away, but now, with the all pervasive aromas of full Australian breakfast superceding the carbolic; the fat lingering like early morning mist, a new day had begun. Roadtrains are pulling into the yard, so many it began to assume the appearance of a marshalling yard. But this was their business; fill tanks, fill stomachs, and provide shelter. Then all would quiesce with long drives ahead. When sitting within a facade of civilisation, it's easy to overlook the isolation of the outback just a few hundred meters away.

Camooweal was a tiny town, but if it didn't exist, it would be invented. I could imagine those that lived there would say they love it. It was just a small grid of roads, six vertical and three horizontal, but within that was a school, town hall, hotel/ pub, two petrol stations, a couple of historical corrugated iron buildings, post office/ supermarket, and a clinic. The girl next door to us who spent the best part of the evening on the phone, walked past our breakfast this morning wearing some sort of uniform and a lanyard and we figured she maybe was working at the clinic, and sure enough, as we passed the clinic, there was her orange car with the registration, NUTS. You may need to be to work there. She probably tours from small community to small community, and she could have been anything from a neurosurgeon to nail clipper, I don't know.

Now, no longer Territorians, our drive today was a modest 190 kms to Mount Isa; not a tax break or, and for that matter, hardly a mountain at only 356 meters. A gentle start for our trans-Queensland sojourn to the coast. The road between Camooweal and Mount Isa is punishing with little to see along its length. One small respite was a very small, modest and unassuming memorial to David Sering Hall, 1902-1950, Road Engineer. Another stop boasted a WW2 memorial, but which turned out to be a board which mentioned the ground we were standing on, in contrast to the road in front of us being the one they built in 1940 to serve additional war traffic to Darwin. Well, that certainly deserved a big plaque and an applause. (Much bigger display, I might say than poor old David Sering Hall's)

Now, no one could say Mount Isa is pretty or delightful. It is a mining town pure and simple. Copper, lead, zinc and silver mines abound. The nearby lake, possibly the prettiest aspect, used to be a mine. The Enterprise Mine, Australia's deepest copper mine at 1.9km is here. This is serious mining country. Not, you might say, big for tourists? Well, maybe not for conventional tourism, but as an unusual, interesting place, tourism plays its part in the local economy. Were it not for mining, Mount Isa probably wouldn't exist other than perhaps as another truckie stop. The mine is the town; it dominates the skyline as well with its presence. There is wealth in the town, and certainly, if waistlines is a measure of wealth, they are doing quite well. The town bustles. Traffic everywhere. People everywhere. There's a Coles, Woolworths, Kmart, Clubs, Bowling Club even. This is so different from the Top End we have become accustomed to over the past few weeks. Our accommodation is rather nice. Two bedroom, well equipped house. Small back garden to relax in, and even smaller front garden. It's great to have a bit more space before we revert once again to Roadhouses. We have three nights here, so we make the most of it.

Great Northern Beer, when we returned from Coles, then Vindaloo Chicken with SB and a pastry. We shall seek out a tourist information place first thing in the morning.

ps. Temperatures still up there in the early forties. Whilst in Camooweal, my phone weather App said it was 41, feels like 40. Well I thought that. Definitely not 41!

[stellacartography]

My AO3 tabs this week*

*no guarantee that this will be a weekly thing but hey... worth a shot

Borderland by @keirgreeneyes and @hubblegleeflower

Rated E, Original Work, One-shot

Original works on AO3? It's more likely than you think. And this one is lovely and heartbreaking.

Peter and Emile, friends since boyhood, meet on opposite sides of the Great War. They steal one night to explore what might have been...

La Bête by @vulpesmellifera

Rated E, Mystrade (Sherlock Fandom), 13/23 chapters

Are you not following along with this Mystrade meets Beauty and the Beast based on Eros and Psyche? It's haunting and angst-ridden and boasts the tag "ENOUGH PINING TO FILL A CANADIAN WILDERNESS". I love reading WIPs; they're all the fun of weekly episodic television without the queerbaiting.

When Baron Mycroft Holmes violated the Law of Hospitality and angered a goddess, he was cursed to live his days as a beast... Gregory Lestrade is more than he seems, and it could be that he's hiding a curse of his own.

Don't Tell Mama by @amuseoffyre

Rated E, Our Flag Means Death, 136/139 chapters

Fyre's SMAU Burlesque Club AU is nearly at an end and now is a great time to start reading. Fyre's Stede and Ed are delightful.

When Stede Bonnet's marriage falls apart, he throws caution to the wind and follow a yearning to be a cabaret MC. Only, he's not quite ready to tell his family. What's a man to do? Well, lie and say he's invested in real estate on the other of the world, that's what!

Jim's Song by @copperplatebeech

Rated G, Good Omens (spoilers for season 2 if that's a concern), One-shot

The inestimable Copper is back with a little piece about everyone's favourite (?) retired archangel. Jim has no memory of Before, and these are his memories of After.

Everyone wants to leave a record, however modest or brief, of their existence. This is Jim's.

The Hayloft by @ewebie

Rated E, Mystrade, 34/38 chapters

The Farm AU in which Greg Lestrade is a French farmhand, has a cat named Terr, a fiesty friend named Camille, and tends the land that once belonged to Mycroft's Uncle Rudy and his partner René Faucher. You'll laugh. You'll cry. You'll be launched back to the days of high school French class. You'll want to visit the French countryside.

Greg watched the sky change through the trees, the sun dropping closer to the horizon. It lit the clouds with dramatic streaks of vivid colour. The cool damp of the air carried a whiff of the germinating seeds, the spring creeping into the grounds. At any other time, it would be his favourite season. He dropped down on his haunches and picked up a handful of the topsoil. It was ready. Nearly twenty years of work, and this was the year.

[starboundanon]

anakin’s night routine (eating spiders?) while obi-wan is sleeping from ragnarlothcats devil’s in the details

Ah, a fav. Devil's In the Details by RagnarLothcat.

Send me a missing scene!

The intruder sleeps soundly in his presence, a vile insult.

Anakin watches with brimstone eyes, cataloguing the gentle rise and fall of his sturdy chest, the way his slow breaths tickle the copper hairs curled around his lips. The sight draws him closer, perching on the bed, pleased when his pretty pest twists away from the heat of his smoldering body. Good, he thinks, exhaling smoke from tar black lungs. That's what you get, entering my domain uninvited!

He keeps the man fast asleep, a wave of his clawed hand over that pale face, sowing dark dreams into a surprisingly resilient psyche. Handsome brows furrow in despair as his imagination turns cruel, feeding Anakin's power, his might.

A cold smile crosses his face as he fills that intriguing mind with gorgeous thoughts, blood and viscera and melodic screams, a tapestry of his skill and prowess, a harrowing sight. This man will know whose house he has attempted to steal, come the morning. He will make sure of it.

The moon drifts overhead in a graceful arch as the hours tick by. Curiously, Anakin doesn't move. He should be looming by now, bent over his new prey to ensure he sees nothing but blood red eyes when he jolts awake from his gifted nightmares, but he stays where he is, lingering at his side.

It gives him the best view of that masculine profile, the slender slope of his nose, the cut of his jaw. He is a demon; he has no need for vanity. Yet the landscape of this thief's bearded face is... pleasant. And Anakin has never denied himself pleasure in all the long millennia of his life.

He can indulge for one night, he decides. Tomorrow, he'll begin the ritual of tearing this man's mental state down brick by metaphorical brick. Tonight, he will simply observe. It's his house, thank-you-very-much. He can do as he likes.

An impressive specimen creeps from beneath the man's bed, sneaking across his sinfully soft mattress. Anakin watches it lazily, reading the spider's thoughts of caution danger predator stay in the dark in its modest, inarticulate arachnese. Eight long legs move in symmetrical unison as it climbs his guest's body like a shivering mountain, over toned arms and broad shoulders.

It's large, by this house's standards. It crawls slowly up the pale column of the slumbering thief's throat, tickling his facial hair, making him twitch. Anakin listens and watches intently as the dark dreams he had graciously bestowed on his new plaything's mind take a different shape, a different color. The violence he meticulously crafted shudders and scatters into a thousand baby spiders, an entire hoard, scurrying in all directions, blotting out his hard work.

Rude!

The spider inches up up up, until at last it rests on the man's sculpted cheek, two back legs brushing against the corner of his lips. Its body is large enough to cover his face from eyes to mouth — a mother, Anakin realizes, likely inspecting their newest intruder much the same way he is — but he is irked by her presence all the same. He has a job to do, here. Those were his handcrafted nightmares she just overwrote!

Irritated, he plucks the offending beast from his guest's face, trading insults through her prosaic language before opening his mouth and swallowing her whole. Immediately the man relaxes, his shivers dying out to calm stillness, the darkness of his dreams swept away to nothing. A neutral, grey mist.

He purposefully does not delve deeper into the satisfaction he feels in that moment. Yes, this man's fear and torment is his ultimate goal, his untimely death an inevitable part of the game. But Anakin himself will be the only one toying with this mysterious stranger in his own house, and if the creepy-crawlies watching them from the shadows don't like it, they'll just have to get used to the infinite liminal space of smoke and flame that is his belly. Serves them right.

Because this man, his newest and prettiest plaything, is his.

[popculturebuffet]

Indy Prelude: Carl Barks; The Seven Cities of Cibola! (Comissioned by WeirdKev27)

Hello all you happy adventuerers!

Since I last covered duck comics. While Disney Ducks built this fine institution the fact is other disney properties, other cartoons and comics in general, and general nonsense have simply take up more of my time. But it's always good to return home and just in time as this is also a prelude to something duck adjacent. a franchise that may not exist without good ole scrooge mcduck.

Yup just in time for Dial of Destiny we're taking a look at the indiana jones film quintology! From one of the most loved films of all time with too many quotable lines to count and more nazi's turned to goo than you can shake a staff of ra at, to it's divsive followup featuring the most iconic heart ripping in human history, a future oscar winner, and the directors wife, to the film almost as iconic as the original with sir sean connery, holy grails and more nazis, and all the way into that fourth film what people don't like to talk about with nuclear explosions, greasers, communists and actual cannibal Shia Lebouf, cumulating in a film I.. don't have a ton of antedotes about because it hasn't come out yet? Indy punches a protester and deals with the horrifying consequences of age and america working with the nazis? I dunno, i'm just excited, kev's excited and hopefully you are.

I'm dead serious about Scrooge being part of the reason Indy exists though. While sadly not coming up in the fablemans, though likely because it might've been a bit too much of a LOOK LOOK SEE THE THING THAT WILL MAKE HIM FAMOUS LATER moment the film honestly avoided so I can respect the decision, Young Stevie was a huge fan of Scrooge McDuck, to the point his future succesful self did a forward for one of the many carl barks collections. It's not the only influence and i'm sure as I research Raiders, i'll no doubt find tons more direct ones, but it is a notable one that gets brought up quite a bit and it's easy to see why: Scrooge too is a globetrotting adventurer who has a successful day job (If a far less modest one), cares deeply about the history of what he finds, is a tad gruff, verbally pars with most love intrests, and takes the quick solution when it makes sense, so it's easy to see the compassions. The two are still different enough: Indy isn't in it for the money, generally adventures because he has to not for the thrill like scrooge, and Scrooge's only child we know of isn't a massive embarrassment, but you can still see how it left a mark and see Barks attention to culture, love of slow adventure, and humor in Indy.

That and one certain scene we'll get into in the comic is the direct inspiration for one of the most iconic scenes in film history.. but we'll get for that. For now we're taking a look at one fo the most legendary stories in the duck canon and seeing how it holds up, this is the Seven Citeis of Cibola!

We begin with what you all came to see

It's a neat enough visual gag and a reminder to me that most scrooge stories.. really didn't open with the big splash pages i'm used to in comics nor an actual story title

Though Barks still makes the best of it with the sight gag of Scrooge lieterally bathing in money. The setup to this one is brilliant too: Scrooge reflects on the fact he's got his feathers in just about every industry imaginable. Cannaries, Fisheries, Newspapers, Horse Races, Bibble Removal, Steam Cleaning, Steamed Hams, baseball, both kinds of football, mega football, calvinball, horeshoes, unicorn shoes, abestos, tabacco, cultural apporiation, robots, Goat Cheese Pizza, getting the cool shoeshine universal solvent, fishmobabywhirlmagigs, Spam, Crackers and Milk, Breaking Cat News, allen wrenches, gerbil feeders, toilet seats, electric heaters, trash compactors, juice extractor, shower rods, water meters, walke-talkies, copper wires, saftey googles, radial tiers, bb pellets, rubber mallets, fans , dehumidifiers, picture hangers, paper cutters, waffle irons, window shutters, paint removers, window louves, masking tape, plastic gutters, kitchen faucets, folding tables, weather stripping, jumper cables, hooks and tackle, grout and spackle, power fogers, spoons and ladles, pesticides for fumigation, high peformance lubircation, metal roofing, water proofing, multi purpose insulation, air compressors, brass connectors, wrecking chisels, smoke detectors, tire gagues, hamster cages, thermostats, bug deflectors, trailer hitch demagntizers, automatic circumciers, tennis rackets, angle brackets, Duracells and energizers, soffit panels, circuit brakers, vacuum cleaners, coffee makers, calculators, generators, maatching salt and pepper shakers, horse dewormer, fighting gold, repulsor technology, pym particles, Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosiiiiiiiissssssss, flying pigs, wild pigs, pigssssss innnnnn spaccceeeeeee, wilkins coffee, islands that walk like men, mood slime, chainsaws, saftey films, toner, donald duck abuse, Yoghurt Platinum, Clubmarine, Saltweens, Disco Dairy, Disco Duck, Lard, Trash Bag Wrestling, Superfast Jellyfish, The Gizmonic Institute, Cloning deboning, dethroning, stupid nintendo games, Rusty Shackleford, Molten Boron, SCTV, Squakabilly Taxi's, An Automatic Man, Wells for Boys, Flight Rings, decoder rings, olvatine, Krakoan Gates, Sealabs, Underwater Motor Scooters, Sex Bombs, Good Guy Dolls, The Last cult, Krustyburger,Chalk Tablet Towers, nerderotica, underwear, money, fat, hank.

The problem is he's got no more worlds to conquer: He's invested in everything, and thus can't make money on a NEW venture. Barks gets some great gags out of this too with Scrooge trying and failing to buy Gyro's newest gadget and a peanut stand, only to find out he OWNS both. It really shows that despite his horrifying wealth and influence.. scrooge can't ENJOY it. To him the fun's in the chase. The having's nice too, but the world just dosen't feel the same if there isn't another rainbow to chase, something I get as a book and film collector. It's great to have, but the looking is just as fun. It's something i'm sure most can relate to especially us nerds.

Thankfully Donald and the Boys just happen to drive by: their hunting arrow heads for 50 cents a piece over in the desert for Crazy Harry's House of Cultural Approritaion. That's Crazy Harry, the man with a snake on his face.

As you can guess this story has some dated bits: while Arrowheads are still treasured, I have one my grandpa gave me, it's not nearly as kosher to sell artifacts of someones' culture for fun and profit. Even as far back as 1980 Indy himself was doing it more for the joy of history and famously said it belongs in a museum.. and evne that's starting to slip as I saw on John Oliver last year. You can find his piece bellow.

And of course they use the i word instead of native americans or indegenous peoples.

Which is annoying , but not suprising.

So our heroes go looking for Arrowheads out in the generic desert. Weirdly for Carl Barks this Desert.. isn't a specific place. There's just suddenly a giant desert outside Duckburg. I didn't notice when reading the story for this review as Barks still packs in nice detail and makes it feel real, with our heroes having to conserve water, brave dust storms and track using realistic methods where tribes may of hunted their game. For the record it was the Pueblo who were linked to this, primarily settling in new mexico. I normally woudln't be this harsh on research, I got that bit from wikipedia after all, but given both how much Barks was lauded for it and how much care he usually puts in, it's weird to see him drop the ball a bit

At any rate our heroes soon find a trail and along it some treasures they take in to town to get examined. The curator there reveals their from The Seven Cities of Cibola, seven cities made of gold and gleaming with treasure, similar to EL Dorado, based on real life rumors about lost cities that turned out to be adobe huts, something Donald brings up. Barks does find a clever way for the myth to still be true, and a shockingly modern one: given the people who found it were conquistadors and heard it through rumors, it makes sense that the people they were conquering and mistreating wouldn't tell them where the city REALLY was. It's not phrased that way, but it's still brilliant.

So our heroes decide, well Scrooge and the Boys decide Donald is just sorta swept along by the tide as usual, to go after the city, figuring the trail leads there. THey stop at a diner for some nondescript hamburgers.. and end up evedroppsed on as nearbye the Beagle Boys are kicked out of an Aid for the Poor Center for welfare fraud and are told hey hey why don't you get a job, which has aged like fine milk on the sidewalk. They naturally follow scrooge smelling money and trail our heroes. I do like the Beagle Boys Inc t-shirts they wear in this shirt, before beagle boys inc was bought by feel good inc in the mid 2000's.

Once our heroes get going Barks DOES make up for his previous non-descriptness as he cites actual locations along the trail such as big bluff and the colorado river. We also get a nice tone: normally the adventure is scrooge dragging our heroes along and being a real dick but here there's a real sense of camradery and excitment ala ducktales 2017. The boys gladly use their guidebook to help while Scrooge uses his experince, the guidebook finding them shade. Eventaully it can only go so far and they end up lost, as do their persuers. They refill the canteens but eventuallyt heir dry. It's a nice showing of the dangers of the desret and the realisim Barks really likes to use in his stories. These may be cartoon ducks but they can die just like anyone else… except of old age but you know

Our heroes fortunes don't get better when the beagles blindsight them.. but plan to just up and leave, having had enough fo the desert and having NOT stocked up on water due to being too busy persuing scrooge, leaving our heroes free to persue the cities unabated.. but near death if they do'nt find water soon. Thankfully they find an old spanish galleon and more importantly

That said I do love Donald's expression here. Barks is a master at those. It does provide our heroes with a way forward, as the logbook details both the ships survivors meeting people clad in gold and a clue about the way the ships pointing at long last our heroes reach the seven cities.. and the sight is truly gorgeous.

And inside are countless treasures, a great sequence as we see pools of coins, ruby arrowheads and most importantly an emerald statue.. set on a trap. Yes this is where the parts Indy homages come in, as it's also on a weight trap, though a far more elaborate one that will destroy the city if activated. IT's clever adn I can see why speilberg and lucas reused it and i'ts diffrent enoguh in the indy version to work as Indy tries to actually take the statue and uses clever manuvering.

At any rate we get to the climax and.. this is where the story falls apart for me: it starts well enough: the beagle boys show up, throw our heroes in a bricked up prison and star tlooting..a nd naturally stupidly trigger the trap leading to the second half of the equation for INdy's iconic opening

But again done diffrently.. with indy we actaully SEE it chase him, so Speilberg got the clear diffrence between inspiration and outright theft. He took the basic idea but made something fresh with it.

The ending… is what really weakens the story for me: everyone gets amnesia, no one remembers and the city remains buried, with scrooge not willing to go back for measly arrowheads. This ending… is all kinds of dumb. For one Scrooge talked to the professor man, he might follow up, and two.. ther'es no real reason for it. I get not wanting a white idiot to loot a fantastic city, that part's fine. Everything about the climax works … except the amnesia part. Yes scrooge could dig, but he could also damage everything or there could be nothing left. The amnesia seems tacked on because Barks coudln't be bothered to come up with an actual reason why Scrooge woudln't go back, when the trail coudl've been lost in a storm or something or the beagle boys destroyed it on the way so while Scrooge gets resuced, he has no way back. There are other ways.

Overall the Seven Cities of Cibola is a decent outing. It has a LOT of good stuff, the slow methodical apporach with little action but a lot of intrigue, the gorgeous city, and the threat not being fantastic traps or anythin gbut simply the heat and environment, and the comedy is on point, with Scrooge going from hunting arrowheads to hunting a lost city all wrapping together. Again it's really the amnesia ending that hurts it: without it this would easily be one of my favirotie scrooge tales, a well done caper that again is shockingly slow paced, but in a delebrate well done way. The ending just drops it a few knotchs in my eyes. It's still worth a look, just temper your expectations>

Next Time: Dun dunnn dunn dunn dunn, dun dunn dunn dun dun dun dun dunnn dunn dunn da da da da, da da da da dun dun dun dun da da da, dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dunnnn!

[wyvernscales]

No bc it’s literally canon that Manfred has an allowance. I present this codex entry for your consideration:

Text under cut:

A Monthly Stipend

1 don't understand why Lucanis claims it's "bizarre" for Manfred to receive a modest monthly stipend.

Manfred may need the funds one day, and he's capable of making small purchases! (With supervision.) I admit, however, he fancies the strangest things. Some recent acquisitions:

-A silver-backed Antivan hand mirror.

-Twenty blue marbles.

-Four sticks of chalk. (He presented one to Harding.)

-A jeweled brooch shaped like a lizard. (I had to make up the difference. He must learn to tell copper from gold.)

-A brass cup.

-A rather fine quill knife. (Confiscated.)

-Two pounds of almonds. (Removed to the kitchen.)

-Yet more string.

The latest item cost nothing. Manfred's become very fond of a little wooden stick he enjoys pointing about.

-From Emmrich's diary

Emmrich and Lucanis are the sugar daddies of the most deranged, broke-ass group of idiots in all of Thedas. It’s canon because I said it

Bellara doesn’t even know she’s supposed to be paid for work. Like, genuinely confused by the concept

Neve takes jobs from people who are basically paying her in promises and vibes

Harding lost that sweet Inquisition paycheck ages ago and is just scraping by on pure optimism

Taash probably has money somewhere but would rather set herself on fire than spend a single coin

Davrin has more holes than socks. Assan eats his pennies

My Rook is a certified Lords of Fortune dumbass with the impulse control of a magpie and a “mild” case of kleptomania. She’s in debt to people she hasn’t even met yet

Meanwhile, Lucanis is out here with two mansions, the bougiest assassin rates in Thedas, and Emmrich has what’s basically tenure at Mourn Watch Trump University, walking around dressed like my house down payment. These two are 100% bankrolling this lineup of freeloader chucklefucks

Manfred needs pocket money? Emmrich’s got him, we all know that. Also slipping a little extra to his girlfriend because she’s, you know, decades younger and strapped for cash

Then the rest of these clowns line up like it’s Thedas’ Saddest Payday, Lucanis included (he’s just there to see how far he can push Emmrich)

Emmrich finally sets up a budget spreadsheet, Lucanis whips out an abacus, and Mondays are officially allowance day with Emmrich and Lucanis alternating who’s dishing out the gold each week

This group of morons has turned adventuring into take your sugar daddy to work day

Emmrich and Lucanis are now writing “Weekly Allowance” as a line item in their budgets

[petermonarch]

{CUT}

[ANALYSIS IN PROGRESS... AND... ACTION!]

Brandon wakes up on a beach. He turns in all directions to try to find his way, but nothing seems to be familiar to him. And yet... he feels that this place is of paramount importance.

- L-Laīka? It's you who...

- Yeah, it's me. Don't worry, this hospice just serves as a reference point. Don't dwell on it too much. Not that it is dangerous since there is nothing for the moment, but because this place has no significant importance in your history.

- Uh... ok. But if it's not important to me then why am I here then?

- Oh you know... the paperwork and everything and everything.

- The paperwork-?!

Brandon is startled when he sees a man in black, come out of nowhere. He even gives the impression that he was there from the beginning. He had a black hat, a black trench coat, black gloves, black pants, black shoes, a black tie, a black suitcase... everything black... except the skin. He also wore a pair of round glasses, which gave this man an even more disturbing look. Yet a certain sadness emanates from this individual. He looks at Laīka in an annoyed way. He clearly doesn't seem to appreciate his presence.

- Hi Alex! So how are you? You and the stars?

- What do you want, cosmic error?

- Ah ah always so insightful tells me. I came with the other pole there. Could you open a door for us please?

- Hmm... what is he?

- What do you mean? I am a human being. Like you... right?

- Huh huh... I see. So I'm sorry for you Mr. Parsh.

- Sorry but why? And I don't remember telling you my name?

- These questions won't help you cope, Brandon. Please take this door.

A door gusting from the sands, which didn't seem to impress Brandon surprisingly. It is a white painted wooden door, with a tired copper handle and a lock blocked by cardboard.

- And make sure to make me leave the view of this... thing.

- Hey! The thing is still there huh!?

- This door... I knew it... it's the one in my first apartment.

- Cool. I had always wondered what Mr. Parsh's first apartment looked like. Let's go see!

Laīka opened with curiosity mixed with impatience, the door of an apartment that Brandon had long abandoned for another.

Laīka took the cartoonist's hand and dragged him into the door.

The apartment is modest. The cracked gray paint, the furniture covered in dust, a broken sofa bed, a messy desk, a damaged console... a real little world that Brandon lived.

- Now that I see it like this... this apartment was more of a slum than an apartment. You surprise me that I moved.

- Is that really why you left?

- Yes... and also because... I...

- If you don't want to say it, don't say it, you know.

- A heartate. It was for a heartach that I left.

- Ouch. What happened?

- Well... I'm not sure-

The front door opens abruptly. An effeminate man with a angry step, slaps Brandon so violently that he falls on his back to the ground. He didn't expect it. Laīka did not move. He observes the scene with an attentive eye.

- BRAD! You motherfucker! You promised me not to start again! But what the fuck took you!?

- Huh? B-what are you talking about, Gaël?

- Ah! Don't you see what I'm talking about?! I'll show you it will be easier I think.

Gaël goes with clenched fists towards the desk of the messy cartoonist. He violently opens the lower shelf of the furniture. And he took out a board that Brandon had finished. He looked at him carefully. And seemed even more enraged. He then went to the library. He took out a comic strip from the furniture and came to land in front of Brandon sitting, who was holding his painful cheek. He planted an inquisitive look at her, opened the comic on a page. He showed the board and the said page to Brandon.

- And there? You still don't see the problem honey?

- There may be some similarities but...

- It's decaled Brad! Stupid and nasty copy and paste!

- It's just a reference darling. Nothing stupid or mean. Nothing in any case to get angry like that.

- If I get angry like that, it's because they canceled our series!

- What?! B-but they don't have the right... w-why?

- W-w-w-why!? But for exactly the same reason that I come to put you under your stupid nose! They also discovered how much you were a cheater and less than nothing!

- Hey... wait... that's not at all what he told me...

- A grumbling selfish shit who is not fucked up to open a book to properly learn human anatomy!

- That's enough...

- You suck as a cartoonist, you suck as a graphic designer, you suck as an author, you suck at the bed, you're a zero point Brad!

- SHUT THE FUCK UP!

Brandon unhooked a right hook to Gaël's face. The blow was brutal enough and surprising that Brad's colleague, not having seen it coming, fell upside down, hitting his back skull on the edge of the desk. It seems half in the vapors, because these eyelids are still open.

- I'm probably not famous in just about everything you've noticed... but believe me that I'm very clearly not going to miss THAT. At the same time, any human can do THAT.

Brandon took a knife in the kitchen, grabbing it fiercely with both hands, he plunged the blade into Gaël's throat. But to the surprise of a bloodthirsty Brandon, he noticed that the blood that expected to spring from Gaël's throat... is not coming. Even the blow given seemed hollow by the way. As if we had hit a bag of soil.

But the most worrying thing was to see that Gaël was completely out of phase by this forbidden act.

- But look at me how proud my brave cheater is. Cheater and murderer. You're ashamed of nothing pal.

- Fuck off. You never loved me... but only the success and notoriety that I can enjoy. As if you didn't give a shit that I cheat or not. As long as it can end up in your wallet. Sad for you because in what fucking world a cartoonist can have a decent life and so money ?

- Maybe... but the murder attitude worries me a little too much all the same.

- Don't be stupid, Gaël. Or rather should I say false Gaël. Everything around me doesn't exist. I never took my hand or worse, on you. Even if sometimes I want it so much believe me.

- What has prevented you from doing so far?

-... Love.

- Huh huh I see. Bon finito for this part.

- Huh?

Gaël gets up illico presto, grabbing the knife planted in his throat. He withdrew with difficulty because like a latex disguise, Gaël's face was completely torn into pieces. Leaving room for that of Laīka.

- So? Brad... we'll have to calm down these murderous impulses.

- I just told to Ga... to you that I will never get into such manners like this. In reality anyway.

- Yeah... Well, we'll take stock later, okay?

- Okay as you wish.

- Brandon…

- Yes?

- Do you... Do you lo... No nothing.

-...

- End of the [CUT]

[stevensaus]

As I'm preparing to launch a campaign-style 5e D&D campaign with The Black Talons, it occurred to me that I'll need to pay (pun intended) more attention to the in-world economics of the world. In 5e, there's an abstraction for ongoing "living expenses" so that you don't have to spend all your time bookkeeping. It gives eight different "levels" of socioeconomic status ranging from "Wretched" to "Aristocratic". I wanted to get a "feel" of what that roughly translated to in modern US dollars. Looking at the descriptions, I thought it would be most effective to orient around Poor, Modest, and Comfortable. Poor. A poor lifestyle means going without the comforts available in a stable community. Simple food and lodgings, threadbare clothing, and unpredictable conditions result in a sufficient, though probably unpleasant, experience. 0.2 gp (gold pieces) per day, 6gp/month. Modest. A modest lifestyle keeps you out of the slums and ensures that you can maintain your equipment. You live in an older part of town, renting a room in a boarding house, inn, or temple. You don’t go hungry or thirsty, and your living conditions are clean, if simple. 1 gp/day, 30gp/month. Comfortable. Choosing a comfortable lifestyle means that you can afford nicer clothing and can easily maintain your equipment. You live in a small cottage in a middle-­class neighborhood or in a private room at a fine inn. 2gp/day, 60gp/month. At first I tried to tie "poor" to the US poverty line (or the federal minimum wage) of $7.25 an hour, and did some ratios: $7.25 : 0.2gp = X : 1gp That makes the "modest" lifestyle (which pretty much describes a living wage) equivalent to $36.25/hour, and "comfortable" a massive $72.50/hr, or an annual salary of $150,800, which is a more than a little bit above "comfortable." The math also doesn't feel right if you make minimum wage equivalent to "modest"; that makes "comfortable" $17.50 an hour. For context, Ohio's living wage is $19.40/hour. If you swap the ratio around and plug in the living wage and solve for X, like so: $7.25 : 0.2gp = 19.40 : X then you get that the living wage is roughly equivalent to half a gold piece a day (0.54), not 1 like it says in the rules. So instead I swapped the numbers around and solved for the "poor" condition (since I'm literally using the US poverty level here): $7.25 : X = 19.40 : 1 which results in the actual cost of the "poor" lifestyle nearly doubling to 0.37 gp a day (three silver, 7 copper). Using that same ratio also results in the "comfortable" lifestyle equating $38.8/hr, which does feel about right. While this was really interesting (for me), while doing my research I ran across D&D Alley's much more thorough exploration of the same topic, which is a pretty interesting (and nuanced) read. That was where I found this absolutely genius conversion that really made it hit: there's an easy way to quickly convert prices into (dollars): 1 cp = $1 1 sp = $10 1 gp = $100 Not only does the math pretty well work out there, it also provides a visceral gut-punch about how much stuff costs. Suddenly that 25gp mastiff is a freaking investment, let alone a 75gp riding horse. Particularly if you're in a low-magic world (like the one I run), then it makes craftsmanship a lot more valuable. That 1gp bedroll seems super expensive until you think that it's the medieval equivalent of a fancy sleeping bag. Even in our industrial and mass-produced society, a quality sleeping bag will run you $25 - $65, and since it's all hand-made, having it be two to four times as expensive makes sense. Likewise, tents may be as cheap as $25, but it's not difficult to find quality tents costing over $150 in the modern day, so having a good two-person tent costing 2gp (or $200) in a pre-industrial society is completely reasonable. With all that in mind, "lifestyle" becomes a lot more useful without adding any real overhead in terms of mechanics. It also gives the characters an additional reason to do things.

.. and lets you, as a GM, appropriately set both the price and frequency of the missions your characters go on. https://ideatrash.net/2024/07/converting-dungeons-and-dragons-living-expenses-to-real-life-money.html?feed_id=255&_unique_id=66a6e3402e2ce