#forged notes for sale

[feeder86]

The Curse of Deansgate

An understudy for Chris Peterson? Most of Ned’s friends could not believe it. Nor could Ned, to be fair. The fact that Chris was even doing Broadway was almost just as unbelievable. Hollywood superstars, like him, rarely gave up the time for a twelve-week stint in a production like ‘The Gentleman of Deansgate’. It was going to be, without a doubt, the hottest ticket in town.

Ned watched through some of Chris’ old movies before rehearsals began. He devoured them all: the romantic comedies, the science fiction classics, as well as the action hero thrillers where Chris’ shirt was pleasingly absent for multiple scenes. Ned swooned, still feeling unable to comprehend his good luck. He’d done the Broadway circuit for a few years now and was slowly building a name for himself. A major role in his last show had earned him the attention he craved within the industry, despite the show actually selling rather poorly. But Ned simply loved the theatre and couldn’t wait to see Chris in action on stage. He imagined that the guy would feel quite nervous performing to a large crowd every night, especially after exclusively working on movies for so many years. And, as his understudy, Ned would be sure to support him. He fantasised about them becoming best friends and forging a bond like no other. He felt the bubbling excitement in his stomach as the days ticked down, getting closer and closer to the beginning.

The media coverage was already everywhere, even before the two week rehearsal period. ‘The Gentleman of Deansgate’ was a rarely performed production due to the superstition surrounding its commercial failures in the past. Written in the early twentieth century, ‘The Gentleman of Deansgate’ had apparently never once completed a full run in any theatre; although Ned doubted that to be completely true. Like all superstitions, it made Ned laugh to think that the play would make the usually level-headed investors go weak at the knees; much like all the actors he had met over the years, too superstitious to utter the words ‘Macbeth’ on stage. But a ‘cursed’ play certainly made for an awful lot of clickbait; cleverly helping to fuel the audience’s anticipation, as well as the advanced ticket sales.

However, there was also another reason why the play was being discussed so much; one that Ned felt a little more nervous about. The director would be the incredibly talented Gordon Harrison; an absolute master; especially here on Broadway, crafting incredible productions over a career that spanned decades. He had once played the lead in ‘The Gentleman of Deansgate’ back when he was in his twenties, and was resurrecting it now, perhaps as a form of nostalgia for himself. However, if anyone was to meet Gordon, it might not have been his ingenious directing creativity that they first noticed. Gordon was known to be one of the largest men working in the industry; a ginormous gut and wide butt, weighing in at a waddling five hundred pounds or more. 

Ned was sure that many people had probably made fun of Gordon’s weight over the years, but none so publicly as Chris Peterson. It had apparently happened early on in Chris’ career, when he was still making a name for himself, playing a small role in one of Gordon’s rare movie productions. When asked what he thought of the renowned director, a young, pretty-boy Chris had been less than complimentary, remarking to a journalist about how grotesquely greedy and lazy the fat director was on set; rarely getting out of his reinforced chair to offer notes to the hardworking performers and crew surrounding him; also referring to him as just another ‘failed actor’ who had shifted to directing once his first career ended. They were throwaway comments, but even Ned remembered the media storm that inevitably came from it. 

Perhaps not for the right reasons, Chris Peterson undoubtedly became better known afterwards. He’d been remembered and picked for bad boy roles where a little edge to the character’s personality was definitely a requirement. From there, he’d only gone from strength to strength, after his management eventually taught him to hold his tongue a little more when it came to badmouthing people he had worked with. Now, the director’s offer of the lead role in this play had been widely seen as an olive branch to the handsome actor, as a way to leave the past behind them; one that had been graciously accepted by Chris’ management team who convinced him to sign up straight away. And so, for the first time ever, the money was pouring in from investors, hoping to get a slice of success as ‘The Gentleman of Deansgate’ was about to be performed to the public for the first time in thirty years.

Some men just had that aura about them. It was the thing Ned most remembered about Chris Peterson, the first time he strolled into the theatre. Like any Hollywood hunk, he was painfully handsome, not to mention stylish. But Chris was also incredibly tall and muscular, giving the perception that he could have turned his hand to any sport at all, had the acting career not worked out so well for him. Ned remembered how aroused he was, sitting in the wings, watching the final act, when Chris rehearsed the penultimate scene, completely shirtless: the broad back, the stunning chest, the insane six pack. Not that Ned was a stranger to the gym himself, it was pretty much given in his line of work, but there was just something so awe-inspiring about the physique of a true Hollywood leading man.

Unlike any other production Ned had ever been involved in, there were journalists waiting outside from day one of rehearsals. Gordon had made it clear that no one was to talk to them or pose for pictures, but that didn’t stop them shouting for attention each time the cast walked out. Usually they wanted to know about Chris, or about how Gordon was doing, working with a guy who had so badly insulted him almost ten years ago. If Ned had been allowed to answer them, he could have told them that, in fact, everything was absolutely fine. Ever the professional, a now twenty-seven year old Chris took to the theatre work with ease, and Gordon didn’t seem in the least bit resentful towards him at all. Perhaps that was the point. The reality was so fundamentally boring, keeping the air of mystery kept the media writing about the play and building that appetite for it.

As for Ned’s dreams of becoming best friends with Chris Peterson, well, that had always been unlikely. Although the man had learned all their names and was friendly enough, Chris kept himself to himself during break times and retained that Holwood mystique with the rest of the cast; continuing to be one of the only people Ned knew who could get away with wearing sunglasses indoors and still look sexy. But, in regards to being an understudy for him, Gordon had told Ned straight out that it was never going to happen. People were coming to this production to see Chris and that was exactly what they would get. It was the investors who had insisted on there being an understudy, just in case, but Ned was never going to actually get the chance to perform to an audience. He would simply stick to his significantly smaller role, dying before the end of the first act each and every night.

“Break a leg!” Ned smiled at Chris as the curtain was about to go up on their first night. He still got butterflies each time he had the opportunity to talk to the guy, even after the long rehearsals.

Chris smiled back, seeming as cool as could be; as if none of this phased him in the slightest. Then, with a final intake of breath, he stepped onto the stage, in front of a cheering crowd, surreptitiously dotted with some of New York’s harshest critics.

There was the strangest of feelings in the theatre that night; like an unheard frequency that was somehow ringing in the ears. Chris’ performance was powerful and moving; rising above anything they had witnessed in the rehearsals. Ned could already see the awards and accolades the Hollywood star was about to amass. The final act was a marvel, and Ned saw their large, oversized director sitting in an extra large chair on the front row, smiling with pride the entire time. When the final curtain fell, the audience rose to their feet, but Gordon remained seated. He looked pleased with himself, like he had just accomplished something he had been working towards for many, many years.

At the afterparty that evening, the excitement was electric. Everybody knew that the show was a hit; perhaps the biggest success they would ever be involved in; the pinnacle of their careers. Their director stood, having graciously acknowledged everyone in the cast and crew for all they had done, only leaving one final man to congratulate. He called Chris to stand beside him and slipped his big, heavy arm over the hunk’s broad shoulders.

“You’ve joined a very exclusive club this evening,” Gordon smiled. “There are very few ‘Gentlemen of Deansgate’ out there!” he nodded; acknowledging the fact that he too had once played the part, some twenty-five years ago. “You’re never going to be the same after this.” 

The grin on Gordon’s face was a little too perplexing for Ned. He couldn’t quite make it out. He held Chris’ stare for an almost uncomfortable time, until finally raising his glass and toasting the biggest Broadway smash in many, many years.

The reviews the next morning sang with praise, just as they had all expected. Ned poured over them all, hoping for even a brief mention of his own performance. Instead, Chris had stolen the show, and the promotional image of him in the final scene, shirtless and steamy, dominated much of the pages that were dedicated to the reviews. By lunchtime, Ned could recite almost all of them word for word. It seemed like he wasn’t the only one who had felt the curious atmosphere in the theatre that first night. Each review, every single one, seemed to comment on it in some form; like some magical awakening of acting greatness. Still, Ned cut every last one of them out, saving them all for his own personal scrapbook.

“Do me a favour,” Gordon insisted, raising his hand to get Ned’s attention as everyone else busied themselves backstage for the second night. “Drop these off with Chris, will you?” he insisted, thrusting a box of doughnuts towards Ned.

“What? Take them to his dressing room?” Ned asked, delighted and nervous about getting the opportunity to go and see Chris before the curtain went up. “Does he even eat doughnuts?”

Gordon chuckled. “Oh, he eats them alright!” he smirked, already waddling away to deal with something more pressing.

Ned held the large tray of doughnuts in his hands, feeling empowered, simply to go and see the star of the show before he went on stage. He raced along the corridor like a man on a mission and knocked firmly on the door until he heard Chris’ deep, masculine voice telling him to come inside.

Half dressed, Chris’ fine torso was on show as he collected all of his bits for the first act. Ned felt like he had entered at the absolute perfect time. “Um, Gordon sent these over,” he mumbled, trying to think straight and not stare too much at the gorgeous man in front of him. Just how many people would have paid serious cash to be standing exactly where he was right then?

“What are they? Doughnuts?” Chris asked, dropping his belt on the floor and heading straight over. He reached in and grabbed one with each hand, pushing one immediately into his mouth with the biggest bite Ned had ever seen. He moaned aloud and chewed quickly, as if he hadn’t eaten in days.

“I didn’t know you were so keen on doughnuts,” Ned chuckled awkwardly, simply standing there, holding the box, not knowing where he could put it down. Chris was still purposefully in front of him, seemingly getting ready to take another round.

Chris didn’t answer. He simply moaned as he gorged on doughnut after doughnut; not even caring that his mouth was now covered in sugar. Ned stood there, watching the car crash in slow motion as the entire box was devoured in less than three minutes flat.

“Fuck!” Chris chuckled, swallowing the last of it all. “I had no idea I could do that!” he smirked, turning to look at himself in the mirror, then laughing at how immediately bloated his stomach had become. “Bring me another one of those trays after the show and I’ll let you suck me off,” Chris suddenly declared, reaching his hand down to his crotch and readjusting the suddenly obvious erection that was pressing against his purposefully tight pants. 

“What?” Ned asked; his heart beating faster than ever before. Had he heard that right?

“Don’t act coy,” Chris shot back. “You heard me. I’ve seen the way you look at me. Bring me another tray of doughnuts after the show and I’ll let you suck me dry,” he repeated, reaching for Ned’s limp hand and placing it directly across to his boner. “Deal?” Chris asked, knowing that there was no way Ned would ever refuse him.

Ned left Chris’ dressing room almost shaking with elation. Was this really happening? The hottest, straight hunk in the world was going to let him go down on him after the show? Surely this was just a dream? 

With the first act soon over with, Ned snuck out to the doughnut place across the street and bought the exact same tray of treats that had been delivered earlier. He stood around, pretending to wait purposefully in the corridor, having concealed the order under a pile of clothes in his small, shared changing area. 

The next thing Ned knew, he was back on stage for the curtain call. He’d started to doubt himself; to dispute reality. He was going insane. Chris hadn’t really made such an advance on him, nor made the bizarre request! He was just slowly succumbing to madness. But as they all cheered their way off the stage, Ned felt a very firm hand on his shoulder and the Hollywood superstar bringing his mouth close to his ear, whispering. “You’ve got fifteen minutes.”

After the buzz of the first night, the second night always felt anticlimactic, with people darting off quickly after the show ended. Ned waited until there was a slight lull in the noisy corridor, until he stood outside Chris’ dressing room holding the doughnut tray, knocking until he heard the call for him to enter.

This time, Chris was sitting. already stroking himself in his chair; legs parted and pants removed, ready for Ned to do what he had come here for. Of course he had a large penis, Ned thought to himself, watching the sexy guy stroking it like he was filming a porn scene. 

“Give them to me!” Chris demanded, having eyes only for the tray that Ned was carrying. He reached out, ripped them from him and immediately began gorging, like he had before. Then, with only a nod of his head, he ordered Ned down to his crotch.

Slipping onto his knees, Ned could hardly believe what he was about to do; something he never imagined could be done. He started slowly, determined to get it exactly right; to give Chris as much pleasure as he could. If he delivered Chris the best blow job of his life, he would. He pursed his lips and worked his tongue to perfection, hearing Chris moan with pleasure as he pushed those doughnuts into his mouth. He felt the guy’s large, sticky, icing-covered hand press onto the top of his head, pushing him deeper into his crotch. Ned obliged, willing himself not to gag as his throat opened further. Then, absolute magic. He’d done it. He’d made the Hollywood superstar climax in what sounded like the most intense orgasm imaginable. 

Ned stood, feeling proud, looking down on the hunk slouched in the chair. The man was a mess, covered in icing and sugar all around his face; his toned stomach now bloated and hard. The man seemed dazed, either from the eating, or the intense relief of having ejaculated so forcefully. He sighed multiple times and began tapping his own face as if to bring himself back into reality. “Fuck! That was good!” the man growled, before sitting up and casually feeding himself the larger fragments of doughnut that had fallen onto his chest during his rampant gorging minutes earlier.

Grinning, Ned knew that this was a tale he would be able to recount for the rest of his life: the day he sucked off Chris Peterson in his dressing room!

“What are you doing this evening?” Chris asked, finally getting to his feet.

“Um, nothing much,” Ned replied, feeling the shadow of the large man cross over him.

“You know this city, don’t you?” Chris pondered. “You’re from here, aren’t you? You can take me out.”

“Yes,” Ned answered, without evening thinking; his heart almost leaping out of his chest. “But I wouldn’t know where to take a Hollywood star like you. We’d be harrassed by journalists the whole time if I took you to the bars I usually go to.”

“Then don’t take me to the bars,” Chris shot back. “Take me back to your place and order in.”

“You… you want to come back to my apartment?” Ned spluttered, overjoyed and simultaneously embarrassed by the thought of hosting Chris Peterson in the miniscule space he rented in the city. Still, he had kept the place fairly clean… Maybe Chris just wanted another opportunity for them to be alone together again.

“Is it far from here?” Chris asked, already gathering all that he needed and slipping a few items of clothing back on. 

“Not far,” Ned replied, realising that he didn’t really have a choice either way. “We can head out through the back and be there in five minutes.”

“Good,” the man nodded, already pushing Ned towards the door. “Lead on.”

Just over an hour later, Ned was accepting the second delivery at his apartment whilst Chris lounged on his couch, gorging himself on the pizzas that had arrived five minutes earlier. The moment he went back in, Chris dropped his greasy pizza down and made to grab the bag of Chinese food, not caring that the slice landed topside up on the couch, leaking the oily residue into the material. 

“I didn’t know that you were such a foodie,” Ned sighed, hoping that Chris’ hunger wasn’t going to get in the way of them having more fun later on. He ran to grab a cloth and began attempting to get the stain out.

Chris’s kisses were passionate and arousing after all the food. Ned had seen some bizarre Hollywood diets in his time, but this binge eating of Chris’ had bloated his stomach up like nothing he had ever known. He was gentle around the man in the bedroom, wondering whether he might throw up should things get a little energetic. Hosting a Hollywood superstar, making him climax in his very own apartment, it felt like a moment Ned had been waiting for his entire life; an experience he could boast about for years to come. Had Chris wanted to stay the night, Ned would have been more than delighted, but the man seemed restless and keen to get back to the hotel he was staying in, ordering himself a ride and bidding Ned a goodnight.

Gordon didn’t seem to care when Chris didn’t show in time for their pre-show meetings, rolling in with just enough time to get into costume and get on stage. For the first time, the backstage crew began to grumble about him, knowing that they were only one week in, with another eleven long weeks to go. But just as the lead actor had seemingly lost all passion for it, so had their esteemed director; no longer bothered by the silly little mistakes that were made by the lighting department on the fifth night, nor the fact that Chris had missed his cue several times by the start of week two.

On their opening night, the show had felt like a slick, well-oiled and ambitious machine. Now things were getting sloppy and haphazard. The excellent reviews of the previous week were being replaced by curious clippings in gossip columns about Chris’ amateurish performances. Not only that, but a rogue cell phone had snapped a picture of Chris during his shirtless scene looking significantly thicker than he had seemed in the promotional shots. Ned had seen it first hand as he continued to slip into Chris’ dressing room after a performance for some fun. He’d known that the make-up department had painted on a six-pack for the last three performances. However, nothing could mask the unmistakable width of Chris as he turned to his side; a distinct paunch starting to form. All of a sudden, that one picture seemed to be everywhere and all of the press interest in the play turned directly towards Chris’ weight gain.

“There’ll probably be more people trying to get pictures of you tomorrow,” Ned warned as he snuck into Chris’ dressing room and caught the guy gorging himself on a couple of boxes of cookies that had been left in there for him.

Chris scowled and nodded for Ned to lock the door behind him. “That’s tomorrow’s problem,” he grumbled, sliding down in his chair and pulling out his hardness for Ned to suck on as he ate.

Ned assumed the position, noticing the roll of stomach fat that was beginning to encircle Chris’ waist. His fingers slipped onto it as he took Chris’ hardness in his mouth, noticing the soft and doughy nature of it, slyly ruining the ultimate Hollywood sixpack. Ned knew he was in some way enabling Chris by not walking away and failing to challenge him on his eating but when else in his life was he going to have the chance to be with a global superstar like this?

With the doughnuts gone, Chris stood up and removed the last of his clothes, ready to fuck Ned over the table at the back of the room. Ned obliged, catching the view of Chris’ softer glutes in the mirror as they began kissing; the back fat standing out so much, the skin starting to roll. “Chris…” Ned started, knowing that he could no longer stay silent. “Don’t you think you need to do something about this?” he asked, pinching the actual lovehandles that had blossomed in just over a week.

“Do you want to get fucked, or not?” Chris growled back, clearly too consumed with arousal to think of anything else. Discussions about the guy’s weight were clearly off the table. Ned, lay across his table, spread his legs and allowed the horny glutton to at last get some exercise.

Their esteemed director seemed slightly different over the following days. Unlike Chis’ stomach, which seemed to grow more prominent each day, Gordon appeared to be deflating. His large gut didn’t seem quite so extreme as he strolled about at a faster pace, going from department to department. There was a twinkle in his eye as he saw Ned and a look that suggested that he knew exactly what went on between him and Chris behind the closed doors of the dressing room.

The man had rejected calls for the shirtless scene to be altered so that Chris could cover himself with a shirt, positively laughing at all the press that surrounded the hunk’s sudden gains. “All publicity is good publicity,” he grinned as if he hoped for a boost in ticket sales from it all; not that there was any need. The show had been booked out for weeks before they’d even started rehearsals. 

News outlets began reporting that Gordon had insisted Chris diet immediately and that he had threatened to kick him out from the show should he not comply. However, none of it was true. Of all the people working on that production, the director was the only one who was not in the least bit flustered by it all, even as Chris’ management seemed determined to find a way to get him out of the play and end this constant barrage of bad publicity. 

Ned felt it all very personally, having fallen for Chris during this strange period of his life. But with so much gossip and speculation flying around, how much longer could his fling with Chris stay a secret? A public ‘outting’ was absolutely the last thing either of them needed right then.

“Eight more weeks to go!” Gordon sang, almost tauntingly at them all as Chris stepped up behind the curtain, a rounded stomach pressing out, ready for the shirtless scene. Gordon appeared to wait, listening intently for the inevitable gasps of the stunned audience as the former hunk went out on stage. Then the director would chuckle to himself and stroll happily away.

Getting in to see Chris was becoming harder and harder. A team of people seemed to surround the man the entire time he was at the theatre; men and women who had been flown over from Hollywood to kick Chris into touch. None of it seemed to be working. Even under the strict eyes of his babysitters, Chris’ stomach seemed to be expanding daily. Tensions with the director seemed to flare up as Gordon failed time and time again to renegotiate the star’s watertight contract. The looming fear that the play would end hung like a dark cloud over all of them. As Chris’s belly blossomed into a small, stout and rounded beer gut, each of them looked at each other and sighed. Would this be their last show? How much longer could this insanity continue?

Like a petulant child, Chris appeared to detest all the fussing around him. Sometimes, at night, he would appear at Ned’s apartment, having snuck out undetected from his hotel. He’d order take-out, complain bitterly about his situation and completely fail to show any self-awareness of his own part in the evolving crisis that surrounded him; even as he gorged on pizza after pizza. He’d drawn Ned in, making him feel like the only one in the world who could sympathise with him; the one sane person in his life whilst all the madness threatened to consume him. Ned had been flattered. He felt special. And even though he could see the giant ball of stomach fat growing larger and larger; even as a double chin began to spread itself under Chris’s handsome face and his tight glutes softened with each passing day, Ned still fell for him and stayed up late into the night, pleasing him in any way he could.

It was week four when everything seemed to crash around them. Ned saw the news flash up on his cell phone before anyone at the play got in contact with him to let him know. Chris had left the production, paying a hefty, multi-million dollar fee for exiting early and ending the show.

“You’re up!” Gordon sang down the phone an hour or so later. “You’re my Gentleman of Deansgate!”

“But I thought…” Ned mumbled back; his head spinning.

“One last performance!” Gordon exclaimed excitedly. “Chris’ team were quite insistent upon it as they added a nice buffer into the cheque they signed this morning to get him out of his contract.”

“Why?” Ned asked, remembering how adamant Gordon had once been that he would never allow Ned to understudy for Chris. “What does it matter to them?”

“Just be here early,” Gordon replied, immediately ending the phone call.

Ned didn’t know how to feel. The last few weeks had been the strangest of his life. On the one hand, he felt elated that he was about to have the biggest career highlight to date, seeing his name appearing in the articles about Chris’ sudden departure as the Gordon’s team sent out their official press release about the final show. However, he also knew that he was unlikely to see Chris ever again. The media had already reported that he had left New York for his home in Los Angeles. Just like that, it was all over.

Gordon positively skipped about backstage, racing between the different departments. There was no denying that he had lost a significant amount of weight in the last few weeks and the spring in his step seemed to catch everyone off-guard. Everything had to be perfect once more and the sloppiness of the last few weeks had to end immediately. Yet, despite all the demands and high standards Gordon was insisting upon, there was still a smug, sickly grin plastered all over his face.

“He’s just had a massive payout from Chris’ people,” whispered one of the lighting guys as Ned watched the man with obvious confusion etched across his face. “I was here late last night when they were all negotiating.”

“Well, I expect it must be a relief for him now all the tickets will have to be refunded for the rest of the run,” Ned nodded.

“That stuff’s all covered,” the backstage man replied, shaking his head at Ned’s misunderstanding. “I mean Gordon himself. He’s just had over five million dollars from Chris to let him go early and to ensure there’s this last performance tonight.”

“They paid Gordon personally?” Ned asked. “But that makes no sense!”

Twenty minutes later and the crowds were starting to move into the theatre, bitterly disappointed that the main attraction for attending this play had inexplicably left the production. Ned had no doubt that he wouldn’t be able to please the audience, no matter what he did that night. Ned had braced himself for Gordon’s assertive approach to managing him, yet the man had barely uttered more than a few words. Despite micromanaging everyone else, as the new lead actor, Ned felt almost as if he was going into the whole thing blind. Gordon stood behind him as the music began to rumble into life, placing his hand on Ned’s shoulder just before his cue. The role had been Gordon’s once, many, many years ago. Perhaps he felt like he knew how Ned was feeling. “Welcome to the club,” he whispered, grinning excitedly and nudging Ned onto the stage.

If Ned could have found the words to describe the feeling as he acted on stage that night, his explanation would have been akin to the accounts of out-of-body experiences. It was as if he no longer needed to recall the lines of dialogue; like they simply flowed through his body. His movements did not feel like his own; his walk and stature had altered. It was as if he embodied the character and had no control over any of it at all. In the papers the next morning, they would criticise him for mimicking Chris’ performance to the very last detail, but in Ned’s mind, the only thing he had actually done was to step out onto that stage. Everything else had been autopilot.

Unlike the final show of every other production Ned had ever been in, the mood that night was too low to celebrate afterwards. People hugged backstage and collected all their things, knowing that they would not have an opportunity to do so at any other time. Meanwhile, after all the obligatory praise, Ned headed back into the main dressing room as if his mind had drifted below a dense fog. He simply sat in his chair, staring at his reflection in the mirror. What on earth had come over him?

Half an hour later, a drunken Gordon came skipping into the room, holding a glass of champagne for himself. “You did wonderfully!” he beamed at Ned, despite the fact that Ned had already been told that Gordon hadn’t seen a moment of it; too busy celebrating backstage. “And now, no one else will perform this play for many decades to come!” he beamed. “‘The Curse of Deansgate’ has struck again! An incomplete run, just like every other time it’s been attempted. No financial backers will go near it again,” he laughed, as if this had all been such a vast, cunning plan from the very beginning.

“Everything worked out pretty well for you, though,” Ned managed to utter, catching the scent of something sweet down the corridor and suddenly feeling remarkably hungry. 

“Even better than I expected,” Gordon nodded emphatically, running his hand down his surprisingly deflated gut. “But the curse has never been about financial ruin, has it?” he laughed. “The curse has always been something much more insidious. I taught that arrogant fuck a lesson and got a very decent payout at the same time.” He looked at his reflection in the mirror, seeming pleased with what he saw. “It’s been a very successful few weeks!”

“You never really did forgive Chris, did you?” Ned asked, feeling the strangest sense of familiarity with Gordon. The man’s last words to him before he had gone on stage had been to welcome him to the Deansgate ‘club’ and now that Ned was there, he felt as if he could ask Gordon anything and be told the exact truth.

Goron closed the door that he had been propping open with his large body and stepped inside so that he could not be overheard. “Of course not,” he laughed. “And you sealed your fate the moment you started sucking him off back here after each performance.” He looked down at Ned disapprovingly. “You’re a serious actor. You should have known better than that!” he scolded him. “Perhaps I should have fired you then and saved you from all this.”

Ned dropped his head. Gordon was certainly right there.

“I hadn’t ever planned to let you take the lead. But when Chris Peterson’s management figured things out, the opportunity to throw you under the bus was simply too easy.” He looked down at Ned with triumph dancing in his eyes. “Lay down with dogs and you get fleas.”

“What did they figure out?” Ned asked, having the strangest feeling that the way his mind was so clouded at that moment was all related to something much larger.

“Here,” Gordon grunted, reaching into his pocket and pulling something out. “I’ve been told to give you this.”

An envelope was thrown into Ned’s lap without Gordon even making an effort to step forwards. Ned opened it up and found a plane ticket to Los Angeles, departing at 2.05am. 

“Lover Boy wants to see you!” Gordon explained, holding back a snarl.

Silently, Ned felt elated. From the moment he’d read that Chris had left New York, he had believed that their fling was over. Now he was realising that he hadn’t been forgotten after all. “Well, I guess there’s no point in sticking around here these next few days, anyway” he sighed, looking around the dressing room he would have to vacat shortly.

“No, I quite agree,” Gordon smirked. “I’ll message him to let him know that you’re on your way.” He placed his hand on Ned’s shoulder. “Now that you’re the very latest Gentleman of Deansgate instead, I have a feeling that you’re about to meet the real Chris Peterson at long last…”

Ned felt eyes on him the entire time as he made his way to the airport and flew across the country, not really knowing what was going to happen when he finally arrived. In the arrivals lounge, a driver was waiting, holding up a banner with his name written across it. Ned’s only backpack was taken off his shoulders as he made his way to the expensive car that was to carry him away. 

They pulled up forty minutes later at the most obscene residence, overlooking the Hollywood hills. The whole residence seemed llavish beyond words. Unlike the chill of a New York winter, the sun shone gently on Ned’s face and he sighed in appreciation at his own good fortune.

A member of Chris’ extensive team came straight out to greet him, ushering him inside almost as if he was expecting a team of photographers to ambush them from the gates . Everywhere was pristine and surprisingly immaculate, from the large marble pillars to the extensive windows at the back of the property, overlooking an enormous swimming pool and the incredible view across the valley.

Ned sat down at the large breakfast bar in the kitchen, where pastries and snacks filled several plates for the members of Chris’ entourage. He was told to help himself whilst the man left the room to let Chris know that he had arrived. Whilst Ned ate, he heard the splash of someone emerging from the pool and suddenly saw the large, looming shape of Chris Peterson marching across the terrace towards the expansive kitchen. Dressed in only his swim shorts with a towel lazily draped over his shoulders, Chris moved with an assertive speed that Ned had not seen from him before; although, his fat stomach popped out in front of him, firm and rounded under his large pecs.

“Excellent!” Chris cheered, spotting Ned and striding straight over to place his hands on his secret lover’s shoulders as he ate. Chris’ strong fingers massaged Ned’s shoulders, not offering any other sign of affection, most likely because his team were all so close by. “Did anyone see him arriving?” Chris asked someone behind them.

“No, sir. It was all very fast and discreet,” replied a deep masculine voice.

“Good,” Chris replied, his hands massaging more softly now and leaning in to whisper into Ned’s ear. “I bet you’re hungry after all that travelling.”

Chris suddenly stood bolt upright and marched about once more, heading to the refrigerator and pulling out as many things as he could.

“Sir, sir…” counselled a woman from his staff. “You don’t need to do that. We’ve got this covered. You can head back to the pool. We’ll look after Ned.”

Chris looked across at Ned, as if calculating whether he could trust his entourage to do what they were promising. “Fine,” he spat, turning around and marching straight out, clearly in a mood about something. “But I need results. I need all of this mess sorting out now!”

Coming down from the high of his great performance the night before was almost impossible. Ned had hardly slept at all on the plane and he had the remarkable feeling of being almost drunk. Time seemed like nothing at all as Chris’ friendly team fussed around him. He was led out onto the terrace to watch Chris’ gruelling swimming training with his coach. Every now and then, the unnecessarily angry actor would call out to his team any time he looked up and saw that Ned wasn’t being looked after with something to eat or drink.

“You’ve got one fucking job!” he yelled from the pool, making them all rush about to serve Ned something else.

Ned was half asleep when he heard Chris’ voice mumbling around him. “Fucking wake him up then!” he ordered one of his team, before huffing and coming over himself. “Ned… Neddy…” he called out in a voice that was barely soothing. “It’s dinner time, buddy!”

Ned opened his eyes.

“He’s awake,” Chris nodded to two guys, who promptly lifted the back of Ned’s deckchair up so that he was sitting upright. “It’s time to eat now, buddy,” Chris explained to Ned, like he was a toddler, using the kindest voice he had heard from him all day. “Mmmm! Look at all this!” he cooed, as a perfect height table was rolled underneath the deck chair so that a table sat just in front of Ned, loaded with different items.

Overcome with hunger, Ned set to work without questioning any of it. Once food was in front of him, nothing else seemed to matter.

“Good. This is good,” Chris nodded again at his team, as he looked back and forth between them and Ned. “He seems to like this the best,” he pointed at one of the dishes, as if that was a cue for them to get more. 

Faced with so much food, Ned found it hard to concentrate. He was given large, chocolate flavoured drinks that were thick and almost difficult to swallow, however Chris seemed to nod his head in approval each time Ned managed to get one down.

Ned wished that everyone else would disappear. He felt so uncontrollably horny for Chris, yet there were always people around, making it impossible for them to come together. Something about the food seemed almost… erotic. He’d never felt this way before, nor eaten so much in only a few short hours; although he wasn’t quite sure how much that was.

As night time approached, Chris entered Ned’s bedroom carrying a large tray of doughnuts. “A little treat before bed!” he winked charmingly, throwing them down on the mattress.

Ned felt his body lunge for them and he began stuffing the first one into his mouth. Chris hopped on beside him, throwing his arm over Ned’s shoulders like they were old friends, rather than lovers.

“That fucking play, huh?” he grumbled to Ned as the guy ate. “Gordon did us both dirty with that one… and I had no fucking idea!” he laughed, like he had had some lucky escape. “That’s why it’s always important to have people looking out for you behind the scenes. That could have been the end of my whole career!”

Chris noticed a large piece of Ned’s third doughnut break off as the houseguest ate a little too fast. Chris picked it up, not caring about the sticky icing that had spread across the sheets, but keen that Ned should get it down him. 

“I’m afraid I’m not going to try and stop you eating, like you did with me.” He looked down at his own, stout gut and sighed. “Look at all this!” he complained, grabbing a large wedge of it. “How the hell did you ever let me fuck you, looking like this? It’s disgusting!”

“You’re beautiful,” Ned mumbled through a mouthful of food, spitting a little out.

Chris tutted and exhaled in frustration. “You’re wasting it!” he growled in annoyance. Getting more fed up when Ned tried to apologise and did the same thing again. “Look, just sit back a bit more and let me take care of this,” he insisted, handing Ned yet another doughnut and feeling his hand into the eager guy’s crotch, grabbing at the hardness, but not stroking until Ned started to eat. 

Ned had never known bliss like it: the tastes on his tongue and the pleasure down below. Each time he swallowed and opened his mouth to moan, in went a fresh doughnut. There were multiple points when he felt like he could have climaxed, yet Chris seemed to hold him back until the very last moment. He came, feeling like a strong jet had erupted from his groin, opening his eyes moments later to see Chris dropping the emptied doughnut tray onto the floor and wiping his hands on the bed sheets. “Was that nice?” he asked, returning to that slightly patronising tone.

Ned nodded, feeling utterly spent.

“Good,” Chris smiled. “Would you like the same again tomorrow?” Chris asked, like he was trying to bargain something out of Ned. So when Ned nodded, stuffed full of food and bloated, the man couldn’t help but chuckle, heading back to his own master suite.

Chris had lost weight. With all his training and determination, Ned had never seen a belly shrink so quickly. Yet, over the coming days, he felt an onslaught of fat begin to slide onto his own stomach, inflating it with softness in an unnaturally speedy manner. Sometimes he would wake from an afternoon nap to find a measuring tape had been wrapped around his arm or thigh, by a member of Chris’ staff; no one seeming in the least bit surprised at the sudden transformation, despite monitoring it closely.

Ned knew he should be paying more attention to his body. But food was everywhere and his brain felt like it was in such a fog. Dressed only in a pair of swim shorts, he couldn’t detect a stretching in his clothes, nor remember where he had even put his cell phone to communicate with the rest of the world outside of Chris’ incredible house. Nothing he seemed to do from that point on appeared to annoy Chris, with the man’s face lighting up each time he saw a shirtless Ned lazily trotting towards the breakfast bar to eat. The other staff were relaxing too, with fewer of them there in the day now. The ‘crisis mode’ of the previous week was now over. 

Chris lifted his arm and still felt a slight stubborn clinging of fat around his love handles. “Do you want some ice cream?” he asked Ned, as if this would somehow remedy the problem. Without waiting for an answer, he headed over to the freezer to fetch it and dumped the complete tub in front of Ned, along with a large spoon. 

Back Chris went to the mirror, turning and flexing, all the while keeping a watchful eye on Ned.

“It’s almost time for you to go home soon,” he smiled. “A couple more days and things should have worked themselves out.”

“I don’t think I want to go home,” Ned replied, feeling his heart sink.

Chris laughed and came over to pat his chubby friend on his back. “I know. I know,” he smiled. “But what am I supposed to do with you once I’m back to my old shape?” He looked down at Ned’s shirtless body and seemed to grimace at the rolls of fresh blubber along his side. “You’ll just be getting more and more out of shape and I don’t really want that hanging around outside by the pool.” He ruffled Ned’s hair playfully. “I’m sure you can understand that,” he laughed, pulling a fresh bottle of water out from the refrigerator and sliding a bowl of potato chips closer to Ned instead. Then, off he went onto the terrace, diving into his pool once more.

Ned didn’t see Chris after that. The guy had disappeared later that afternoon after a lucrative advertising deal had emerged. He read later on that Chris had claimed his appearance in the play had been caused by some form of abdominal distension, unrelated to weight gain. Several so-called ‘experts’ disputed that, but when the hunk reappeared in beach shots looking just as fit as ever only a few days later, all other explanations seemed to be implausible.

No such rapid recovery came for Ned, however. Once home, his ravenous appetite seemed to consume him and he was dropped by his agent only six months later after piling on a ridiculous amount of weight in that period. And, although he could never prove it, Ned always had a suspicion that Chris Peterson’s team had been at least partly behind his declining career; desperately wanting to reduce his influence after everything that had happened with their golden boy.

Ned’s handsome face seemed to bloat and his chiselled jawline was engulfed and framed by an unflattering amount of neck fat. His pecs drooped within a month and his stomach fat swelled into a giant ball of surprisingly squishy blubber. Pants were hard to come by, given how wide his rear had become after the first year. Ned found that he had to detach himself from his old life and form something new; taking inspiration from the only other man he had known to have gone through the same experience….

It was thirty years later when Ned sat in the same old theatre where they had performed ‘The Gentleman of Deansgate’ all those years ago. It had taken him decades to finance a new run and convince his investors. But, at long last, the show was ready to audition the lead roles. 

Years ago, after Ned had had time to think and understand it all, unemployed and gaining pounds and pounds of lard by the day, he wrote it all down; every last detail of that play he would one day hope to direct: the lighting, the sound, the timings, the instruments. He didn’t know which parts were important to whatever power fuelled the curse that he had lived with for so long; transforming him into the gluttonous man he had been all these years. Everything had to be perfect.

“I’m very grateful to you for coming all the way over here to audition,” Ned smiled at the handsome, young hopeful standing on the stage: the image of his beautiful father. 

“I’m very flattered that you wanted me,” the athletic twenty-seven year old replied. “I believe you were the understudy for my father when he performed here? It was his only Broadway appearance.”

“Yes, yes,” Ned nodded. “That seems like a lifetime ago!” he lied. “And I’m sure your father would be very proud to see you standing there now, ready to fill his shoes,” he smiled, pretending to be sorry that Chris Peterson’s drug-fuelled car crash had claimed his life five years earlier.

The audition went well; not that Ned had ever seriously considered anyone else for the role. Revenge could come in many forms, but few as sweet as this poor boy.

“I think this show is going to be a huge success!” Ned grinned, eyeing his new lead actor’s cute butt as he skipped out of the theatre having just signed a watertight contract. “I can’t wait to get started!”

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

I love how people are telling you to make your father a sword as if that's 1. An easy thing to do, 2. Feasible before Christmas, or 3. Cheap

Like, I know some hobbyist blacksmiths, and it takes them literally years sometimes to finish projects. At minimum, like, 3 months. It is November. Regardless, materials are not free, and that's not including the price of obtaining and setting up a forge.

Putting aside the fact your dad wouldn't appreciate it, why do people think this is a reasonable gift suggestion for you?

I am getting so many suggestions that make truly wild assumptions about me, my father, and our relationship, as well as my budget and connections in the blacksmithing community. Here's how Christmas is gonna go.

I will hand my dad and my stepmum a package containing a cheap sampler set of cocoa flavours and several inexpensive candles from Target. My stepmum will hand me a package containing probably some socks and whatever useful household products were on sale at the post office where she works (last year it was some unusually durable freezer bags with fun patterns on them) and probably a loose handful of chocolates or something. The card will say that it's from both of them but my father will never have seen these before because he never bothers with gift buying.

We will both unwrap our packages, thank each other, and pretend they were more thoughtful and individual than they actually were. Then we will dump them in the Big Boxes Of Random Chain Store Stuff that we've acquired from all of our presents so we can take them all home later and spend the next two weeks binging on cocoa samplers, loose handfuls of chocolates, and other random acquired consumables. For me this will be more chocolates from my aunt and uncle (possibly with a fun mug or similar household item, possibly without), a collection of calendars, journals and day planners from my cousin to go with the stockpile of stationary from her from the last few Christmases that I haven't gotten through yet, and a twenty dollar note in a card from my grandmother.

Then I will see my mother and stepfather and stepbrother for Christmas dinner, where we will exchange no gifts but I will very likely get to drink some of my brother's truly excellent vodka from his home brewery and my mum will serve a dessert that will cover my entire recommended sugar intake for 2025. And isn't that truly the best present of all.

[felassan]

Game Informer:

"Cover Reveal – Dragon Age: The Veilguard by Wesley LeBlanc on Jun 09, 2024 at 02:00 PM This month, Dragon Age: The Veilguard (you read that right – Dreadwolf is no more) graces the cover of Game Informer. After years developing Baldur's Gate and its sequel early in its history, BioWare struck out to create its own fantasy RPG. That series began with Dragon Age: Origins in 2009. It was followed up with Dragon Age II in 2011, and then Dragon Age: Inquisition in 2014. While the Dragon Age series' history has its ups and downs, fans have been patiently waiting for BioWare to return to the franchise, and 2024 is finally the year.  We visited BioWare's Edmonton, Canada, office for an exclusive look at Dragon Age: The Veilguard, including a look at its character creator, its prologue and opening missions, and more. We also spoke to many of the game's leads about the name change, the series' shift to real-time action combat, the various companions (and the relationships you can forge with them), and The Veilguard's hub location. You can learn about the titular Veilguard, Solas' role in the game, and so much more in our 12-page cover story for Dragon Age: The Veilguard."

"But there are plenty of other excellent reads within this issue of Game Informer! Some of us flew to Los Angeles, California, to attend Summer Game Fest and the not-E3 weekend's various other events to check out new games, interview developers, and more. Our previews section is jam-packed with new details about upcoming releases we can't wait for.  Brian Shea flew to Warsaw, Poland, to check out two upcoming releases – Frostpunk 2 and The Alters – and he came away excited about both. Jon Woodey went hands-on with Final Fantasy XIV's upcoming Dawntrail expansion (and spoke to director Naoki Yoshida, too), and as someone with 8,000 hours in the game, his words are the ones you'll want to read.  On the freelance front, Charlie Wacholz writes about how last year's Dave The Diver is one of the best game representations of the rewards and struggles of working in the food and beverage industry, and Grant Stoner spoke with Sony and Microsoft about the development of process and history of the companies' Adaptive and Access controllers. And for a lil' terror this summer, Ashley Bardhan spoke to several horror game developers about why the alluring town known as Silent Hill is a crucial location to Konami's horror masterpiece.  As always, you'll find an editor's note from editor-in-chief Matt Miller, reviews from various freelancers and staff editors, a Top 5 list (hint hint: dragons), and more. Here's a closer look at the cover:"

"Not a print subscriber yet but want this issue? Well, you're in luck! Subscribing today – or within the next few days – will net you a print copy of this issue! You can join the ranks of the Game Informer print subscribers through our new standalone print subscription! Just head here to sign up for either one or two years at a fraction of the cost of buying the issues individually! You can even gift a print subscription to your favorite gamer! SUBSCRIBE TO THE PRINT MAGAZINE You can also try to nab a Game Informer Gold version of the issue. Limited to a numbered print run per issue, this premium version of Game Informer isn't available for sale. To learn about places where you might be able to get a copy, check out our official Twitter, Facebook, TikTok, Instagram, BlueSky, and Threads accounts and stay tuned for more details in the coming weeks. Click here to read more about Game Informer Gold. Print subscribers can expect their issues to arrive in the coming weeks. The digital edition launches June 18 for PC/Mac, iOS, and Google Play. Individual print copies will be available for purchase in the coming weeks at GameStop."

[source] <- they explain at the link how to read this issue.

aaah they have had a look at the character creator!!! I can't wait for this coverage.

[thirteenducks]

rest for the weary

(neuvillette x fem!reader) [sfw]

༻❁༺ content: fem!reader (reader is referred to as 'girl'), no established relationship

༻❁༺ word count: ~1.9k

༻❁༺ tags: sickfic? sort of?, mild hurt/comfort, gentle and tender Neuvillette, being overworked, fainting, neuvillette is sexy in a paramedic kind of way, crimes against gloves, almost-crimes against pastries, "you will be taken care of So Help Me" neuvillette, very self indulgent, can you tell i'm a college student

༻❁༺ author’s note: blame my mutuals for putting talk about neuvillette being gentlemanly and kind on my twitter feed. this is their fault and also the four glasses of sangria i drank before i wrote this

Neuvillette would like to believe he understands human behavior quite well by now. What he does not understand is their tendency to be self-sacrificial to the point of exhaustion. When your stress reaches a fever pitch, he steps in.

You don’t remember if it was the fatigue or the hunger that you noticed first. Both have been on the fringes of your consciousness since you left your bed early this morning. Right now, they’re kept at bay only by a lingering headache that worsens as you step out into the clear day.

The beautiful azure of the morning sky above. The flocks of pigeons that dapple the steps of the Palais Mermonia like sunlight through leaves. The hum of the Court of Fontaine as coffee sales begin for the morning. All are lost on you as you forge ahead, feet barely clearing the cobblestone below them.

The papers on your desk, stacked high and demanding attention, are all that your bleary eyes register at the moment. Anything else is secondary.

As much as your conscience would contend it, your current predicament isn’t entirely your fault. Sure, you had procrastinated a bit when the pile of records was first assigned to you, and maybe hadn’t chipped away at it the way you could’ve if you planned ahead. 

For a gestionnaire, though, it’s also just that time of year when the clouds pour rain daily and the opera house sees a never-ending rotation of cases.

So if that means some sacrifices on your side are required, you’re willing to make them for the good of the Court. You’re certainly not the only one, either. The circles under the Chief Justice’s eyes always grow darker during the rainy season; you hope he’s taking better care of himself than you are.

Once you’ve gotten rid of this batch of paperwork, you’ll be free to rest for a while, you tell yourself. You can take a break. Maybe you could walk to that cafe down the street with the nice cashier and get yourself breakfast, if the rain isn't too bad by midmorning.

Your knees waver under you as you carry the precarious stack of records to the threshold of your office. On second thought, maybe you should ask if they offer delivery.

The low murmur of a familiar voice, a pleasant bass melody, reaches you as you step out into the plush carpet of the hallway. It floats through your dizzy head like syrup.

Good. You won’t have to walk far to give these to Neuvillette, then. You’re not sure your feet would carry you all the way to his office anyway, and you’d rather not field any uncomfortable questions about your health from such an esteemed man. 

Assuming what you hope is a pleasant expression, you approach the Iudex and Sedene as he bends at the waist to inspect a bump on her antler. 

There’s a very becoming look of concern on his face, you notice. It must be nice to be the focus of such care.

The unfazed voice of a Melusine comes from somewhere below you: “I promise it’s just a mosquito bite, Monsieur. I must’ve stood around the docks for too long this morning.” 

“Even so... I would administer some anti-inflammatory soon, Sedene. Please don’t neglect your health,” he chides as he pats her head affectionately.

Neuvillette rises again to his full height, catching your eye as you draw near to him.

A fetching smile upturns the corners of his mouth. He greets you with a stately nod, holding out his right hand for your stack of records. Your gaze flits to his other hand, currently engaged by an apple turnover.

Ah. A gift from a Melusine, no doubt. You hope he enjoys it, even if a part of your brain wants you to snatch it for yourself.

If Neuvillette catches the way your eyes linger on his breakfast, he doesn’t mention it. What he does is quirk his head to the left in a silent question as he continues to stand with his hand outstretched.

Oh, archons. How long have you been standing in front of him with a blank look on your face? Too long to be appropriate, certainly.

Clearing your throat and forcing a smile, you take a step forward to hand off your pile of papers to him. Only, instead of making contact with the floor of the hallway, your shoe falls into thin air as your other knee buckles and your back falls towards the carpet.

As your consciousness slips, you feel a cool hand snake around your waist.

Your head goes limp, bouncing a bit with the impact until the pastry drops to the carpet and Neuvillette’s other gloved hand comes to cradle the back of your neck.

He’s caught you. He wishes you were awake to instruct him what to do next.

He lowers you to the ground softly, brow creased with worry. Sedene stands next to him with a similar expression, holding the turnover she saved as it fell. 

“Sedene. Bring me a pillow from the sofa in my office, please. Quickly.”

The Melusine salutes and she darts off. His eyes never leave your face as he kneels, large frame bent over you protectively.

Releasing your waist, he brings a hand up to his teeth and tugs off the glove in a smooth motion before resting his bare fingers against your forehead. A curse in a tongue unknown to all but him breaks the quiet air and his brows knit together. Humans and their damned self-sacrificial nature.

Sedene returns holding a cushion. He eases it under your head with care, ensuring your neck is supported before he retracts the hand underneath.

There in the Palais hallway, the Iudex of Fontaine strips himself of his judge’s coat, uncaring of decorum at the moment. Gentle hands graze your bare skin as he wraps the garment around your shoulders. Were you conscious, you would feel the softness of the silk lining against your cheek and the scent of the ocean it carries with it.

He knows from his extensive observations of human behavior that you’ve probably only collapsed from fatigue, not sickness. And yet… and yet he cannot keep himself from stroking your forehead, cool fingertips resting there as he meditates.

Another moment passes before he makes up his mind. Your body rises from the carpeted hallway floor into strong arms, seldom-seen muscles flexing under his white undershirt. 

The change in altitude brings you halfway out of your daze. Through hazy vision, you catch the sight of pale skin moving above you. His slit eyes meet yours and you don't manage more than a small sound of confusion before you’re pulled back under by sleep.

With a brief nod to Sedene, Neuvillette carries you to his office in a few quick strides. The door slides shut behind him.

Your hands unconsciously tug on his lapels and you curl your body closer to the warmth of his chest, making his ears burn.

Every time he thinks he understands your species, something like this happens. 

He had certainly noticed your energy waning over the last few days, but he worried about the propriety of mentioning such a thing to you. Would you resent him for asking about something so personal? Should he send someone closer to you to step in before you hurt yourself?

In the end, he had settled for bringing you breakfast from a nearby cafe. He glances at the turnover, now sitting innocently on his coffee table courtesy of Sedene. It taunts him.

The silence in his office is deafening as Neuvillette lays you carefully on the sofa next to his desk. He runs through the list of human vitals in his head.

You’re breathing quite deeply. Your pulse is healthy and strong as his fingers press against the side of your throat. The color in your face is returning to its normal shade. Surely all you lack is a good meal, which he can certainly provide, and some rest. 

Then why do his hands shake as he pours tea into a cup on the table before you?

Why can he not keep his eyes from you as you sleep, chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm? 

Why does he find it impossible to return to the paperwork that calls his name just a few feet away?

A clap of thunder shakes the building.

He doesn’t realize how long his eyes have been trained on yours until you’re staring back at him through lowered lids, awakened by the noise.

It takes about a half second for you to remember the circumstances of a few minutes prior and gasp, sitting up with a speed that makes Neuvillette reach towards you in concern. His coat falls from where it was draped across you and you stare at it, unblinking. 

Your gaze flits to Neuvillette, bare to the wrist. He watches silently as you register the sofa you’re laid upon and the lavish office around you.

The Chief Justice makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat when you rush to stand up, face burning. Your head spins - whether from fatigue or embarrassment, you’re not sure. A million apologies threaten to spill from your mouth at once.

With your head bowed and your feet unsteady below you, you don’t see the hand rising to your face until a cool sensation spreads over your flushed forehead. The surprise of it shuts you up immediately. When you do dare to raise your eyes, you hardly trust what you see in front of you.

There is no anger in the face of the Iudex, in the downturned curve of his mouth or the crease of his brow. Only tender concern presents itself as he addresses you.

“You appear to be feverish. Please, sit back down. I won’t have you fainting again if I can help it.” He removes his hand from your skin, leaving behind a burning sensation that you can't attribute to a fever.

“Mon- Monsieur?”

He tuts, raising the cup of tea to your hand and folding it into your grasp. “Drink, please,” he murmurs, face etched with care. 

You blink a few times, sipping the drink as if compelled by magic. It's sweeter than you’re expecting.

“Good girl.” 

You nearly choke on it.

If possible, Neuvillette looks even more distressed by your sudden coughing fit. “You’re far redder than when you awoke. The fever reducer in this blend should help with that, but in the meantime, please take some of this…”

The minutes pass quietly. Periodically, Neuvillette instructs you in a gentle tone to drink your tea or eat a bit of pastry. He absolutely forbids you to stand after the second time you attempt to excuse yourself.

When he's been assured that you're comfortable, he speaks again.

“May I ask why you believe those papers you were attempting to bring me were worth working yourself to exhaustion over?” 

His words are authoritative, but his voice carries such softness that you can’t help but be honest with him.

“I’m so very sorry, Monsieur. It won’t happen again. I’ve just had a lot on my plate this week.”

Neuvillette's violet eyes are melancholy as they meet yours. “Of course. It’s a busy time of year for us all,” he says, shifting his gaze to the steady rain outside. “I do hope you know, however, that I would far rather your work be late than your health to fail on my account.”

You duck your head. “...I understand, Monsieur.”

The man’s stately expression fades into something unreadable at that.

“...Please, call me Neuvillette.”

You were unaware that his voice, so commanding in the courtroom, could sound so tender directed at you.

Your gaze darts up from the floor. The Iudex is not meeting your eyes. His are fixed instead on the light drizzle pattering the windowpane. A faint swathe of color decorates his lofty cheekbones.

As you smile and nod your head, pronouncing his name with a few words of thanks, the morning sun streams into the room behind you.

It’s getting to be quite the lovely day outside.

[blueiscoool]

Ancient Scythian Gold Jewelry Stolen From Ukraine Recovered in Spain

An Orthodox Church priest is among the five people accused of trying to sell the pieces, taken after being put on display at a Kyiv museum between 2009 and 2013.

The Spanish authorities have seized Scythian jewelry worth €60m (£52m) they say was stolen from Ukraine.

Police said the 11 ancient gold pieces were smuggled out of Ukraine in 2016 to be resold in Spain.

The bracelets, necklaces and earrings, from the 8th to 4th Centuries BC, had forged documents saying they belonged to the Ukrainian Orthodox Church.

Five arrests were made previously as part of an investigation into the 2021 sale of a gold belt with rams' heads.

The Scythians were a nomadic people who dominated parts of eastern Europe and Asia, including what is now southern Ukraine, from around 800 BC until 400 AD. They were known for their rich cultural heritage and metalworking skills, particularly in the manufacture of elaborate gold jewelry.

Separately, the Ukrainian authorities said last week that they had recovered 14 archaeological items allegedly stolen from areas occupied by Russia. A Russian man was arrested after attempting to smuggle them into the US.

The items include a Neolithic axe dating from approximately 5,000-3,000 BC.

"It's safe to say that Ukraine has received a new shipment of weaponry. The only catch is that this weaponry is incredibly ancient," Ukraine's acting Minister of Culture Rostyslav Karandieiev wryly noted at a news conference.

Artifacts created by the Scythian civilisation are among Ukraine's best-known historical heritage.

Ukrainian archaeologists say Scythian gold held in Ukrainian museums in areas under Russian occupation has been looted since the full-scale invasion last year.

Losses from alleged Russian plundering of Ukraine's historical and artistic heritage are estimated to run into the hundreds of millions of euros.

[occasionallyprosie]

A Thousand Ways

Chapter 13: "The Hero's Sister"

The chain gets to meet one of their own's sister… Hyrule and Legend also get adopted and neither is complaining.

First | <<Previous | Next>>

Read On AO3

----

The next shift, which arrived before they could reach Hyrule Castle, took them to Warriors' era.

It seemed whatever was throwing them from era to era only brought them to Legend's for him to arrive just when it was too late to save his grandparents.

Legend took about a week to get a hold of himself, then he was able to act as normal again, throwing off most of the group.

He didn't care if it confused some of them, or if they may have thought him heartless for not mourning his grandparents longer. Frankly he let their deaths affect him longer than usual... yeah, he was shoving the pain down until the quest eventually ended so he could break down and adjust himself to all the pain, but... He couldn't risk remaining compromised, emotionally or otherwise.

Epona couldn't cross through the portal, though Legend had anticipated that, and in the few hours between leaving the remnants of his grandparents’ farm and coming to the next portal. In that time, He enchanted an old flute of his with the three whistles from Holodrum as inspiration.

Epona assured him that it was as if the flute rang in her mind and his location was a homing beacon when they tested it. She promised to come find him when he called.

They went through the portal, and on the other side, Warriors claimed the land as his own. Soon enough, they were wandering some small town filled with people who clearly knew their resident hero.

Legend hadn't paid that much mind, his own era's towns were always filled with people who knew him, it came from helping them out all the time.

He lingered at a stall with some magic items, Hyrule pointing to one and asking the merchant about it. They received a decent sales pitch and description of the item. An ancient ring forged in dragon fire with the power to protect the wearer from flames.

Legend noted the magic itself was just basic flame protection and made a comment that it must be expensive if it was so rare, asking if he could see it. He was allowed to hold it, and then they were told it was a thousand rupees.

Hyrule frowned. "You know, that's so odd... See, we're something of magic users ourselves, and that's..."

"That's a basic fire protection charm on a... plain gold ring and those rubies have several visible imperfections," Legend finished. "I'm also a bit of an artisan, so between the two of us, we know our stuff."

Hyrule smiled sharply. "Sorry, give me your name again?"

"Uhh, Ar--"

"Arthur, right!" Hyrule's grin sharpened even more. "Why don't you put some time and effort into being honest and not selling fakes."

Legend snorted as the man tripped over himself to remove the fakes from his stall, and he nodded Hyrule to move on.

"Not bad, Rulie."

"Thanks. I hate liars, there's no way you could even forge anything short of steel in Dragonfire, unenchanted gold would turn to ash!" Hyrule huffed.

Legend snorted. "Not wrong there--"

"Hey! You!" Legend knew that voice. He turned and Linkle was there. "I didn't think you'd be back here! You look a lot better than last time I met you."

"I was half dead last time you met me," Legend deadpanned. Hyrule glanced between them. "Oh! This is Piyoko!"

Piyoko happily let Linkle pick her up.

Link! Link! She's like you! Piyoko declared. Hello, miss!

Linkle grinned. "Hi there!"

Hyrule tapped Legend's shoulder and he looked over. "Oh, this is Linkle. I ran into her last time I was in this era... I didn't actually know it was the captain's but yeah. She helped me out."

"Kid showed up half dead on my doorstep," Linkle said, cradling Piyoko in one arm as she held out her other hand to Hyrule. "You must be one of his time-traveling brothers then?"

Hyrule smiled and nodded. "Yep! Well--We're not brothers, but that's the easiest to say."

"Hey, brothers-in-arms is a term, it's not lying if you don’t specify," she responded. "I'm glad this guy actually has some gear now. Don’t you take after him, kiddo, he showed up on our doorstep covered in blood with only a knife--a single knife--as his defense."

Hyrule snorted. "His magic too, actually. And I'll take after him as much as I want, thank you, ma'am."

Legend rolled his eyes. "First of all, it was mostly monster blood, and secondly, I slaughtered two whole hordes of monsters with that knife and my magic. Also, don't tell him what to do--and you, don't copy me."

Hyrule just had this blinding grin while Linkle rolled her eyes.

"Hordes? Yeah right, gimme numbers over twenty and we can chat--"

"Fifty-seven with horde one, I remember somewhere around three times that, mass wise, with the second, but I also had some help there and I got my hands on a sword part way through."

Linkle whistled appreciatively. "We could've used your help with the war, and if this brother of yours--" Hyrule glowed a bit brighter, Legend noted that his successor definitely liked being connected to him, "--is anything similar, he would've been an asset too. Shameful of y'all not to show up back then."

"Ah, we've been busy."

"Time travel ain't restrictive, now, is it?"

Legend had to give that to her. However, before he could respond, he heard a familiar whistle. Wild was calling them to regroup.

"Ah, we have to go," Hyrule said. "Nice to meet you, miss Linkle."

"Nah, I'll tag along. Can't hurt to meet the rest of the time travelers, Lana would kill me if I didn't," Linkle waved them off. Legend swore he heard that name before, but he shrugged.

Hyrule frowned and looked at Legend, but he shrugged. "Piyoko likes her, and I trust her." As much as he could trust someone he didn't actually know. "Worst comes to worse, we meet with the others and Pretty Boy tries to kill her, so we help."

"One of your brothers are gonna try to kill me?" she asked bluntly.

"If he knows you and you're an enemy, then yeah, and we'd side with him," Legend admitted easily as Piyoko squirmed from Linkle's arms and landed on Legend's shoulder. "But I think you’re a good person so by all means you should be fine."

Linkle sighed. "And here I go, doing the one thing I told Momma I wouldn't do: risk being killed."

Hyrule snorted as they headed off toward in the direction Wild had whistled from. "Okay, no, I like her too. Can we keep her?"

"Eh, sadly she doesn't fit the whole Triforce of Courage, Master Sword, killed Ganon, or is a reincarnation of Sky's previous incarnation, and she wasn't dragged to join us by the goddess, so I don’t think so. Unless she is?" Legend raised an eyebrow at her.

She blinked. "Wait--If those are your "brothers-in-arms" group's requirements then--"

"Vet! Traveler!" Warriors called as they reached a market street. "What took you-- Linkle?!"

"Link! You absolute bastard! You told Ma you were on a sanctioned mission out west! Not some goddess-driven quest!"

Warriors tried to backpedal but Linkle was fast. She grabbed his collar and threw him into a nearby merchant's stall. The merchant, though startled, saw who it was and just sighed heavily... as if this was normal.

"Hey!" Sky reached for his sword.

"No! No--It's fine!" Warriors said quickly, getting up fast. His nose was bleeding, and he was holding it with one hand while his other rapidly waved Sky off. "She's my sister!"

"The sister you lied to!" She screeched. "Oh, Ma is gonna be so pissed! You lied to her! Yer out here time travelin' again an' recruitin' actual children?!" Linkle gestured to Legend and Hyrule, the former of which scooped Piyoko up from where Linkle had dropped her. "You told us it was a damned political venture to re-negotiate borders!"

Legend shared a wide-eyed glance with Hyrule. Then the others seemed equally shaken, yet most of the townsfolk seemed unsurprised, guards included and just gave them a wide berth.

"It was!" Warriors argued. "I just... Got portal-napped on the way and didn't tell you in the letters."

"You said the negotiations were going well in those letters!"

"They might've been! I didn't know!"

"Oh, you--!"

Legend stared with wide eyes as they fought. He leaned toward Wind.

"Is this what having siblings is like?"

Wind snorted. "Oh yeah, only when one of you fucks up."

Legend nodded slowly. Maybe he shouldn't tell Fable...

They watched as Warriors and Linkle argued, fought--bruised and bit arms-- and hurled insults 'til they turned blue. Then at some point their... altercation paused, and Legend decided to put all his bravery to the test to intervene, despite Twilight's and Wind's verbal protests to not.

"Linkle?" Legend entered the five-foot radius everyone gave the siblings.

"What?" She whirled onto him.

He held out Piyoko. "She didn't want to yell."

Link wants you to stop beating up the blue one! Piyoko chirped.

"Hey, snitch," Legend hissed.

"Vet, please put the psycho poultry away--"

"Psycho?! Piyoko is not psycho!" Linkle snarled. "She is an angel!"

"She actually tried to pluck the eyes out of Ganon," Legend admitted.

"Yeah! She actually... she what?" Linkle looked at him confusedly.

Legend grinned. "You heard me. But uhh, it is getting kinda late and I'd rather not be bothering the locals, despite how clearly used to this they are. So, inn and food?

He looked over at Time, who nodded. He seemed a bit surprised but mostly amused.

"Yeah, to the inn and get dinner," Legend repeated then held up Piyoko again, "or I'll sic' her on you and I promise you, she'll win."

Linkle blinked while Warriors just stared. Then the woman grinned. "I like this kid, Link. You found some good ones, but I claim these two."

"Wha--hey!"

"You had Mask and Tune! I'm claiming these two!"

"You’re not even on this quest!"

"I am now, bitch!"

You know? Legend liked Linkle, she was great.

Next>>

[maddogofshimano]

Four Shine in the Nick of Time: Yuki Scratcher Event

Minor YK2 Side Content Spoilers

The first of the two giveaway winners, this one’s for @yakozy​ !!

It ended up being not super long, but don’t worry! The other winner ALSO wanted a Yuki event, and that one is massive?? So it balances out in the end. I’m moving slow but I should be able to get that one done in the next couple of weeks

Summary: Set in 2007 following the events of the Cabaret Grand Prix, Yuki sets up a special campaign to boost sales. Unfortunately, the numbers just aren’t adding up--a counterfeiter seems to be in their midst...

One day in 2007 Sotenbori's Four Shine After Four Shine won the Cabaret Grand Prix and became popular....

Waiter: Aika-san, you've been requested at table six~.

Waiter: Kira-san, table four just put in a request for you. Yuki: Wheww~ ...I'm beat~!

Koyuki: Ever since we began that campaign you thought of, we've really been flooded with customers. Majima: The campaign Yuki-chan thought of?

Yuki: Wah! Majima-san!? What are you doing here!? Majima: Ever since the Prix Goooro Majima's been awfully popular. I was out this way on business and came to see how things have developed. (tl note: his name is written as ゴ一ロ真島 Goooro Majima, instead of 真島吾郎 Majima Goro, to match his Cabaret Grand Prix announcer name) Yuki: I-I see... So that's why you're dressed like that. Majima: So then, what's this campaign you came up with? Yuki: Fufufu... It's an appreciation scratcher campaign! Majima: Scratchers? Yuki: Yes! Every time someone visits we give them one scratcher exchange voucher, and once they gather five they get to do a scratcher! Yuki: To make our customers happy, we've put together some super great prizes! Majima: And that'll bring in even more customer, huh. Yuki-chan, you've gotten good at business too!

Yuki: It's not about making money! The point of this campaign is to give back to our regulars! Yuki: Buuuut, if the number of customers also happens to increase, that's not a bad thing either, right...? Fufufu. Majima: You're laughin' real evilly~.

Waiter: Yuki-saaan, do you have a moment? Yuki: Hm? That's the waiter, Takada. I wonder what's up. Give me just a minute. (tl note: name is 高田 and I went with Takada but there's a bunch of readings) <she goes out to the main floor, and also my eardrums get blasted out by hostess music> Yuki: What's going on, Takada?

Waiter: There's something weird going on with the scratcher exchange tickets... The number that's been used is higher than the number that we distributed. Waiter: Can you think of any reason for this? Yuki: Eh? There's more exchange tickets? Are you sure the numbers are correct? Waiter: Yes ma'am. I counted them all again, but... it still came out the same. Waiter: I'm not sure about this Yuki-san but... it may be possible... that someone is making counterfeit exchange tickets. Yuki: Counterfeiting the scratcher exchange tickets... seriously...? Waiter: If things continue at this rate then we'll run out of prizes faster than expected and I think we'll end up in the red. Something has to be done... Yuki: I understand... I'll do everything I can. Will you keep quiet about this to the manager and everyone else? Waiter: Y-Yes ma'am. You got it. <he leaves> Yuki: ...What do I do. This is my fault... I'm the one who thought of the campaign...

Majima: What's with the sourpuss? Yuki-chan, did somethin' happen? Yuki: Wah! M-Majima-san! I-It's nothing...! Yuki: Th-This sourpuss is because... ummm... right! I have a little bit of a tummy ache! Owie~! Majima: ...What kinda stomachache? Did ya go scroungin' around here for food? Yuki: Ahaha... That must have been it. Well I'm just going to go pick some flowers... <she leaves and the music cuts off SO abruptly> Majima: Heh, that Yuki-chan... she's a real idiot.

Yuki: (...I can't bother Majima-san with this. This is my fault, so I need to handle it on my own...) [The next day...] Waiter: Thank you very much! Please come see us again soon. Yuki: (I don't want to believe that someone is really forging exchange tickets, but...) Yuki: (If it's true then I just watch the register, and someone will show up whose exchange tickets does not match the number of times they visited!) Waiter: ....Since you have thirty exchange tickets, sir, you can do six scratchers.

Rough-looking customer: Hell yeah... I got a good prize! Yuki: (...! That customer, he's only been here twice... He shouldn't have thirty exchange tickets!) Yuki: (...So that means... he's the counterfeiter!? I-I found him just fine, but... what do I do now...!) Waiter: ...Thank you very much! Please come see us again soon. Yuki: (Whoawoawoah... that customer is leaving...! I-I'll just have to chase him...!) <outside of the club> Customer: Heheheh... I got a real good one. Those idiots in the club didn't even notice the counterfeits.

<he walks off> Yuki: I-I knew it, he's the culprit...! I have to tell him not to do it again...! Yuki: ...That customer went in here, didn't he? Yuki: Let's see... Banjou Family Office... Banjou Family..................... eh!? He's a yakuza!? (tl note: 万乗組 is the family) Yuki: Wh-What do I do... maybe it'd be best if I just went back... but then I'd be causing an issue for everyone at Four Shine... Yuki: .............I'll just have to go anyways. Yuki: If I tell them to stop cheating... I'm sure even a yakuza would understand. Yuki: ....Yeah! Women have guts! Let's go, me!!

<she goes in, and the event starts>

Yuki: I know I said I had to, but... Ooooh, I'm so scareddddd.....!

Yuki: I just have to tell them to stop cheating... Even a yakuza will understand... Yuki: Yeah! It's for the club! Get going, me!! <she goes and knocks on a door, then opens it> Yuki: P-Pardon the intrusion...?

Majima: .....What's up, Yuki-chan. What are ya doin' here?

Yuki: M-Majima-san!? What are you doing here... ah! <a bunch of beaten up men, including our counterfeiter, are shown> Yuki: They're all beaten black and blue... Majima-san, did you...? Majima: Hm? Ahh, s'pose so. I got into a fight with that lot. Majima: Ah, that's right. They had this. Yuki: Th-These are... Scratcher exchange vouchers!? Majima: Unrelatedly I told 'em not to do any stupid shit. They just happened to start a fight over it, so that was lucky. Yuki: Th-Thank you for this! Now everyone at Four Shine won't have to worry! Majima: Oops, it's almost time for the train. Till next time, Yuki-chan.

<he leaves, and it sounds like he kicks a door clean off its hinges as he does> Yuki: Ah! Majima-san! Ah-he's gone... Yuki: ...Majima-san is also a bad liar. Fufu. Yuki: Alright! I'm going to work hard to make up for the help I got!

<EVENT END>

Bonus stuff:

Not a whole lot to go into on this one tbh! I do like seeing Majima and Yuki interact a little more, and that Majima went back to Four Shine at least once. This event originally ran almost exactly 4 years ago, which is wild to consider! and finally a big thank you to this youtube video that I used to pull screenshots from

[aryamistwood]

GUIDE TO HORSESHOES

Hey! So it look's like today's update actually released some changes to the horseshoes that are for sale.

The horseshoes previously in Global Shop have been REPLACED by ones There are new Horseshoes named after Conrad Maarsden (which makes sense, he is the farrier who teaches us how to make our own horseshoes) available in the Global Shop

Conrad now has his own shop in Moorland, at his forge

The Druid/Aideen shoes are still available in Valedale across multiple shops...mostly

I am not sure where the Aideen's Runners or Standard Horseshoes are for sale now. If you have bought them previously, you will still have them. Honestly, there is no difference to them vs the Maarsden ones, except you don't NEED Keepers of Aideen repuation to get decent shoes now.

I went through and screenshot all of the stats and prices for the shoes I could find. Below are all of them, including some of my notes to help guide your purchases.

One Series

One-Two Series

Two Series

Three Series

Aaaand just a little appreciation for this squirrel keeping Conrad's books as he's busy making us all horseshoes now

EDIT: The horseshoes previously for sale in the Global Shop are STILL AVAILABLE! I forgot by default it hides owned items.

[synnthamonsugar]

DESTINYTOBER: Day 28 - Found Family

Read it on AO3

. . .

Under a flawless blue sky, Zavala, Ikora Rey and Cayde-6 stride three abreast into the Midtown crucible arena. Fans crowd into safely-distanced stands, their cheers blurred together into a low roar.

"I still can't believe the two of you talked me into this." Zavala's deadpan is belied by the faint upturn at the corner of his lips.

Basking in the attention, Cayde twirls Ace of Spades as he swaggers forward. "We fought a god. And won! You can withstand a little mano y mano."

"Besides, it's for charity," Ikora reminds, Invective held proudly in her hands. An occasion this special called for the best in her personal armory. "Shaxx is thrilled to have us. Near-record for ticket sales, he says."

"I can't recall ever seeing the seats so packed." 

"I can," Ikora boasts. "Game twenty-five of my win streak. Standing room only."

"I missed your Crucible stories," Cayde says sotto-voice, holstering his cannon to pat the Warlock on the shoulder. "You'll have to get me caught up."

Expression softening into something more wistful, she slings her shotgun over her back and returns his gesture. "There isn't much to catch you up on … not with everything happening."

"That just means we'll make new stories together today," says Zavala, patting Ikora on the opposite arm.

Approaching the center of the arena, they link hands — lifting them overhead to a wave of rambunctious applause from the audience and the swell of triumphant drum music from a small marching band as they approach Lord Shaxx, master of today's ceremonies.

Holding the microphone to about where his mouth would be beneath his helmet, Shaxx speaks. The stands quiet to anticipatory murmurs. 

"Hailing from Tower North, Last City, our first team requires no introduction. Please give a warm welcome to your Vanguard: Commander Zavala, Ikora Rey, and the newly returning Cayde-6!"

Ear-splittingly loud despite the distance, cheers erupt from the stands — as do banners, flags and hand-written signs bearing words of encouragement.

From the other side of the arena, the opposing team begins to file in. 

"Our first challenger should be known by all. Originally from Old Russia but joining us today from Empress Caiatl's War Council, make some noise for Lord-Valus Saladin Forge!" 

The crowd responds in kind, nearly drowning out Shaxx's booming voice over the P.A. as he enters. 

"Vanguard," Saladin smiles, walking down the line to give each a warm greeting.

He pauses at Zavala, clapping him on the pauldron. "It's been too long since we've spared."

"It has indeed," Zavala replies with a return of his gesture. "I look forward to it."

As he circles back and takes his place opposite, hands clasped at the hilt of the battleax drawn before him in a picture of knightly valor, Shaxx announces the next contender.

"Originally from —" a pause as he checks his notes, " — and hailing now from a utility closet in the Tower Annex; don't tell the Vanguard! Drifter is here!" 

Appropriate to his notorious reputation, hisses and jeers join the raucous cheering. Drifter struts with a wide grin and hands held aloft, working the crowd effortlessly. 

"Finally get to settle up with you over that twenty-thousand glimmer bar tab you stuck me with when you croaked," Drifter chuckles as he sizes up Cayde, drawing him into a surprisingly familiar handshake. "Hah — just messin' around. I cut my losses on that years ago. It's good to have you back, buddy." 

"Word on the street's you've been the resident smartass in my absence," Cayde responds, pulling him into a half-hug. "I'm glad I had you to carry the torch. But I'll be taking it back now."

Drifter saunters next to Saladin, flipping a coin across his knuckles to increasing frenzy from the audience.

"Last but certainly not least — making her crucible debut, and representing the Lucent Brood all the way from the Throne World, welcome the Guardian of the Pale Heart: Luzaku!"

The Lucent wizard approaches with a flourish of her arms, the swarm of incandescent moths that orbit adding to her ethereal appeal. The enthusiasm from the crowd is barely contained, clumps of attendees jumping up and down in the stands, others gesturing with heart-shaped hand-signs. Handshakes aren't a part of hive culture — wouldn't work even if it was, given the disparity in height — but she greets each of her competitors personally. 

"Ikora Rey! I've read so much of your work on circles — we all have. It's an honor to meet you, and a thrill to face you in the Crucible." 

"The honor is mine," Ikora responds. "I admire your defense of the Traveler and the Light. Your bravery at the final battle won't be forgotten."

She flits over to her team, towering above them. 

"Now if you'll excuse us, me and the band are going to seek cover! When I give the signal, the competitors may retreat to their positions, and the match shall begin!"

"Regardless of how I feel about participating in spectator sports, there's no place I'd rather be than at the sides of the finest Vanguards to ever serve — " Zavala says, " — and more importantly, my best friends."

"Cheers to that," Cayde agrees.

Ikora's smile shines as bright as the late summer sun, and infectious as the crowd's enthusiasm as it spreads to her teammates. Crowd silent with anticipation, they ready their weapons and prepare to move out as they await the opening shot from the Crucible Handler.

[zot3-flopped]

Great piece about Taylor on the Guardian

«From the prices to the endless album rereleases, I feel like a conscript in a campaign for cultural and economic dominance»

«At the same time, I’ve never felt so alienated by my favourite artist. This year I have felt not so much a Swiftie as a conscript, roped into some broader project of streaming, spending and posting so as to cement and grow her cultural dominance – though it’s hard to imagine who, now, could possibly dislodge her.»

«Earlier this year, her email subscribers were offered the chance to “win the opportunity to buy” tickets (at £160 a pop) in exchange for buying her new album, The Tortured Poets Department. That arrived with a surprise second disc (of largely forgettable songs), and was followed by multiple variants, each sold separately: hard to parse as anything other than a bid to secure streaming dominance. When Swift announced a UK-specific release of yet more album offcuts, it was widely perceived as an attempt to stop Charli XCX knocking her down the albums chart.

Swift is the biggest celebrity in the world and a billionaire, on track to make $2bn by Eras’ end. The suggestion that she is somehow dissatisfied or threatened is offputting, and raises very human questions about her motivation. Even five-star reviews of the tour have wondered about Swift’s endgame, where she possibly goes from here.»

«My uneasy feelings were later articulated by the culture writer Jonah Weiner, describing the insidious “co-opting of ‘community’ into a sales strategy”. Weiner was talking about luxury fashion brands, and the exploitation we are willing to overlook to feel part of a club. But his point about how our human desire for connection and belonging is hijacked and reduced by corporate interests seemed to me an apt description of the Eras tour, the economy that’s sprung up around it and our enthusiasm to participate in it.

The show’s supposed community is built on a basis of economic productivity; like a queue for a new Apple product or a sneaker, it “contains the possibility for meaningful interpersonal connection only in spite of itself,” Weiner writes. Not only that, it is actively at odds with building relationships and communities that might nourish us for the long term. Note how political signage isn’t permitted at Eras shows, and how criticism of Swift’s private jet usage has taken a backseat to the collective excitement.

I don’t mean to diminish the pleasure that millions of people have taken from the show, or the friendships they have forged through Swift fandom. But I wonder if, in the overwhelming attention on the Eras tour, other sources of community, connection and belonging – ones that don’t further line a billionaire’s pockets – have been overlooked. What will remain of them when the Taylor show moves on?»

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/article/2024/jul/13/taylor-swift-swiftie-eras-tour

BRILLIANT ARTICLE! Well done, the Guardian!

[vickyt-mv]

Whipped up a quick relationship chart involving my summoner and her five S-supports 🤗💖

Additional notes/ramblings under the cut ✨

This was largely inspired by the recent Forging Bonds event, wherein Charlotte just fucking hates Virion apparently. I think the most exciting aspect of creating a Summoner OC for most people is letting them interact with their favorite characters, but making your favorite characters interact with each other is even more appealing to me. 🥰🥰🥰

As a Certified FEH Pass Subscriber™, Summoner VickyT gets the luxury of choosing five characters to S-rank. Since FEH is technically an isekai, I thought it would be funny to treat Summoner VickyT as an otome/reverse-harem protagonist - she isn't necessarily tied to any one character, but she is courted by many...or something like that. I'm using shoujo manga I've read as a guide. 🙈

Some extra notes on each character:

Lon'qu: One of VickyT's retainers. Warms to the summoner slowly. Respects Yukimura as the one calling the shots. Gets annoyed by Virion's antics but ultimately enjoys his company (even though he would never admit it). Extremely wary of both Anna and Charlotte.

Virion: VickyT's first summon and one of her retainers. Treats Charlotte and Anna like a gentleman would. Simps for the summoner. Plays chess with Yukimura. Becomes (one-sided?) buddies with Lon'qu but maybe also sees him as an obstacle.

Yukimura: VickyT's advisor. Protective of the summoner. Values Lon'qu the most since he's the best fighter. He also enjoys chess time with Virion, especially since Virion's tactics are reminiscent of the ones Yukimura used to employ when he was younger. Is very aware of Charlotte's true personality and strength. Purchases trinkets from Anna, but always negotiates a fair price. He's ultimately the one calling the shots, since he's a better tactician than the summoner.

Anna: Works alongside VickyT managing the finances for the Order of Heroes. Anna gets along very well with Charlotte. She wants to try to sell Lon'qu a potion to help with his fear of women, but AS a woman hasn't figured out how to approach him to initiate the sale. Easily scams Virion.

Charlotte: Additional bodyguard to VickyT. Charlotte hates Virion's guts. She has tried to court Lon'qu but failed on account of Lon'qu being Lon'qu. She gives up the pursuit when she realizes Lon'qu is just a regular swordsman anyway (even if he DID become a Khan someday, he'd still have to compete with another Khan for power eventually). She avoids Yukimura since he discovered her secret strength.

[theresattrpgforthat]

THEME: Revolution

This week’s games have to do with rising up against oppression and tyranny! A very important note: while the tone and tenor of the following games vary in severity, it is a good idea to use safety tools for your table when running these kinds of games, as it is easy to fall into territory that can be uncomfortable to your players. I recommend you check out tools such as the X Card, by John Stavropoulos, and Lines & Veils, by Ron Edwards.

When the Guilds Pay in Copper, Crime Pays In Gold, by Andrew J. Young.

Ostentia is a city of wealth, magic, and incredible disparity. The city's alchemy guilds hold all the power, with squads of street-level enforcers and an army of mercenaries playing the guilds off each other. The common folk are hired by the guilds to serve in alchemy rituals, draining life from their bodies, paying them their purse of coppers, and sending them home until the next day.

What the city needs is a revolution, but the best you can do is retribution. And distribution. Thwart the guilds' exploitative plots and steal as much gold as you can. And when the job is done, go back to your family, friends, and familiar haunts. Spend your gold to improve your character and use downtime to help your community.

When the Guilds Pay in Copper, Crime Pays in Gold is a two-page tabletop RPG designed to be played with 2 or more players, one of whom should take on the role of a Story Guide to facilitate scene setup and NPC actions and dialogue.When the Guilds Pay in Copper, Crime Pays in Gold's system uses dice pool mechanics with d6s.

If you’re interested in Blades in the Dark but want less pre-defined setting, less rules, and more magic, you might want to check this game out. The players of this game are fighting back against guilds using underhanded methods, but the gold they manage to steal goes into community help, rather than a retirement plan. If you want to hit the bourgeoisie where it hurts without having to read too many rules, and if you want a lighter feel to your game, you might want to check this game out.

And You Shall Shatter Temples, by Anna Landin.

They may be gods, but you are done being faithful.It's time to burn their kingdom down.

Sing songs with the words they could not take from you. Raise the banner woven from the flags you stole back from them. Arm yourself with the swords you forged from their discarded bones.

And You Shall Shatter Temples is a game about rising up against an overwhelming power that is trying to crush you. All you have is what you carry with you, and those who rise up by your side. Together, you can turn the tide. Together, you can dethrone a god.

This is a GM-less game that uses playing cards and d6s to help determine what you do and where the story goes. The main premise is that there are gods, but you get to decide what kind of world they have ruined, and how you bring them to their knees. The game brings you through three stages, with each stage bringing you closer and closer to dethroning a god. The creator offers the text-only version for free, and encourages that you support real-world causes that fight oppression instead!

Hunting Billionaires for Sport, by Vex Chat-Blanc.

It's exactly 1 year since people first started hunting billionaires for sport. In that time the sport has grown at an extraordinary rate, giving rise to both the Extrajudicial Means Distribution Union and Nero.tv. Nations around the world have enacted a total ban on firearms and ammunition sales, as well as dedicated buyback schemes for existing guns. Science and arts have seen a simultaneous market boon, and their advances have integrated seamlessly into daily life. Welcome to 2023.

A game for 1 session runner and 2-5 hunters. It's easy to pick up, simple to explain, provides a quick reference sheet for those new to the rules. It contains interesting and variable character advancement, and a progressive and gentle introduction to more advanced rules. World-building, character background, collaborative action, and character retirement are all tied together mechanically.

If you want to see a game where Billionaires’ greed is what allows for the revenge of the masses, this is the game for you. The setting is incredibly tongue-in-cheek, and the characters are both powerful and competent. Character skills are classified as either Limelight (flashy) or Lowlight (concealed), and can be Active, Passive, or Reactive. You’ll also have Beats that drive your character forward and tie you into the fiction, as celebrities on a high-profile streaming service. If you like the idea of turning modern capitalism back onto itself, this might be the game for you!

Compromise / / Empire, by Swamphen.

The forces of the Empire, the forces of totalitarianism and exploitation, are invading. They have secured a foothold, and want complete control. Their soldiers trample the land, their spies and diplomats are in your places of power, time is limited.

You represent a faction. One of the factions who are working to resist the Empire. As a representative you must extend a hand and form whatever alliances you can with the other factions at play. Resisting the Empire will cost you, and your faction. Compromises must be made.

Compromise//Empire is a GMless roleplaying game for 2-3 players about forming temporary alliances and resisting empire. Each player takes the role of a faction forced into an unlikely alliance. You must represent your agenda while making compromises to fight against the forces of empire.

This is another game that allows you to decide exactly what kind of world you’d like to play in. Crises will arise over the course of the game, and you will attempt to find a solution that makes you and your allies happy. Success is not guaranteed in this game - you may find a way to work together, but your plans may also fall apart. If there is a setting or game you’d like to set-up for, this is an excellent option! 

Voidheart Symphony, by UFO Press.

here’s a wound in the world, a rot eating at hope and community and empathy. You’ve seen it in dark alleyways and gleaming boardrooms, gifting terrible power to those who will use it to hurt others. You’ve had enough. You’re going to dive through that wound into the nightmare castle on the other side. You’re going to find the avatar of the one bringing you misery, and strike them down.

But what’s next, once you’ve stolen their power and ruined their ambitions? Will you return to your daily grind? Cherish those who are close to you? Or revel in the power you have taken from the void? Because within that wound, the castle waits, and it is hungry.

Voidheart Symphony is a tabletop roleplaying game about mundane people diving into a demon-filled labyrinth to save the ones they love. Based on Apocalypse Worldand Rhapsody of Blood, it’ll fill your story with dramatic choices and dynamic action. Your rebels each have a core strength – they may be an Authority, a Provider, a Watcher. But your enemy is far too great for you to face alone. 

If you’re interested in the Persona series, this game is probably up your alley. Shadowy powers lurk behind everyday folks, and your rebellion may not ever make it to the front page. You are heroes behind the scenes, fighting for the freedom of folks who may never know to thank you. If you like the idea of being unsung heroes in the modern day, you should check this game out!

Spire: The City Must Fall, by Rowan, Rook & Decard.

Spire is a mile-high impossible city, older than anyone can remember. Two hundred years ago, the high elves – or aelfir, strange and beautiful masked creatures from the far north – took it from the dark elves by force. Now, they graciously allow dark elves, or drow, to live in the city if they perform four years of service to an aelfir lord once they come of age. Spire is crumbling from within and without; it is ancient, and has been built and rebuilt countless times, and at the centre of the mass there is a jagged, weeping hole in reality called the Heart. It is a nightmarish, dizzying place of perverse luxury and widespread destitution, where drow labourers toil in vast gardens and sweltering factories to produce treasures for their masters.

Spire is a roleplaying game about desperate revolutionary dark elves caught up in a secret war against the high elves, or aelfir, who rule the towering city of Spire. The world of Spire is a brutal one, and players can expect to see their characters suffer at the hands of their oppressors, or their rivals; bodily harm, psychological scarring and reprisals against their allies are commonplace. But for those willing to do what it takes, Spire is on the brink of full-scale rebellion, and you are poised to push it over the edge.

This game uses a D10 system that uses dice pools to determine success -  the highest number indicates whether or not you are successful, and how successful you are. The rebellion in this game is dark and vicious; the characters are pushed to do terrifying things in the name of death, vindication, and revenge. This is a fantasy game through and through, but make sure to bring some safety tools to the table, as a game of Spire can easily turn bloody and grim.

If you are interested in this setting but want a game about dungeon-delving instead, you can try Heart: The City Beneath, by the same company.

Previously advertised games that fit this theme:

Balikbayan: Cyberpunk Elementals escaping enslavement. Brinkwood: Brigands fighting against Vampires. Rising Tide: Eco-Justice pirates hitting Corporations at sea.

[droughtofapathy]

"Welcome to the Theatre": Diary of a Broadway Baby

Maybe Happy Ending

November 3, 2024 | Broadway | Belasco Theatre | Matinee | Musical | Original | 2H 20M

Wait, okay, this was actually very sweet. It has a hint of that Kimberly Akimbo wholesomeness that Broadway's sorely missing right now. The concept is a little kooky; in the distant future two obsolete helper robot models forge a charming relationship as they grapple with their purpose, their humanity-adjacent emotions, and their looming "deaths." Accompanied by breakout star HwaBoon (pictured above in a blue-green pot), they travel through Korea disguised as real humans.

The set is a technical delight that showcases the extent to which projection can be utilized in an effective and evocative way. The practical set is even more entertaining, somehow both expansive and sparse all at once. The scene on Jeju Island with the fireflies is really beautiful, and as someone who's been in a fraught state these last few weeks, I teared up a little. The two leads are lovely and talented and you will root for their happiness. Darren Criss has a boyish charm and is very good at uncanny robot acting. Helen J. Shen is a stand-out young talent and I wish the best for her going forward.

With a quirky but entertaining book, solid acting, and great design, the score does end up being the weakest link. It's nice, but there are several numbers that just don't hold interest. There's a repetitiveness that grows weary with lyrics that fall into the same on-the-nose trap that so many recent shows fall victim to. It needs tightening and subtle adjustments, but it's sweet. While I know the set doesn't lend itself to a smaller, less expensive budget, I think it would have done so well in a more intimate venue off-Broadway. Word of mouth is mostly positive, but it's a bloodbath out there right now, and word is it almost didn't make it to Broadway because of such poor advance sales. We'll see.

Verdict: A Lovely Night

A Note on Ratings

[the-gimmick-authority]

[a note arrived, reading “We are somewhat disappointed you weren’t able to get any info on that merchant to us, but as promised we have made 2 new targets to investigate, these should be easy for you to track down, we’ve spotted a blacksmith with seemingly magical weapons for sale that we wish to know more about ( @dragons-den-forging) , and a lizard person we saw leaving with one of these, looking like an ancient Egyptian sword emitting smoke and wish to know about it and him more ( @greymonds-bounty-board), we hope you are able to have some info on them this time.” - L.O.A.I.D.]

//ooc: damn, sorry for forgetting about these asks lol i hv a bit going on rn-//

Sorry about that. We will look into the weapon seller, they may be doing something illegal like selling unauthorized weapons to criminals.

Grey?? Oh, we know him! He taught us DnD, real nice guy. A little harmful, has battled with the thief before (I think?) but is all-round pretty chill.

[askstellarandfriends]

If these are next-gen characters, who is who's parents? (like who is Stellar's parents, who is Kunzite's parents, etc etc)

I'mma answer this one in text this time, this is a next gen AU. Not all of the characters are next gens. Stellar is just an OC (Who's parents will be revealed in time but if I say who now it will be very spoilery) Then some of the next gens ended up in this universe from another universe because they were either adopted or I just wanted to create them.

I can show a list of the current next gens though, fair warning, the list is long: Pixel Note: Button Mash x Sweetie Belle Apple Slice: Caramel Chance-A-Lot x Applejack Appleseed: Caramel Chance-A-Lot x Applejack Sharp Gleam: Diamond Tiara x Snips Gem Shine: Discord x Rarity (another universe transfer) Sunrise Illusion: Discord x Celestia Muffin: Doctor Whooves x Derpy Hooves Time Bubble: Doctor Whooves x Derpy Hooves Rose Seed: Feather Weight x Babs Seed Blue Ribbon: Flam x Cherry Jubilee Constellation Sparkle: Flash Sentry x Twilight Sparkle Apple Cider: Flim x Apple Fritter Apple Crisp: Big Macintosh x Fluttershy Crass: Grogar x Everest(OC) Star Tricks: Luna x Trixie Lulamoon (another universe transfer) Dream Walker: Sombra x Luna Mint Swirl: Lyra x Bonbon Pop Rocks: Lyra x Bonbon Shooting Star: Mordecai x Twilight Sparkle (another universe transfer) Midnight Aurora: Nightmare Moon x Everlight Everlasting (another universe transfer) Record Label: Octavia Melody x Vinyl Scratch Play Wright: Pink Tom x Trailblazer (another universe transfer, parents are from the @projectfimily universe) Honeycrisp Apple: Pip Squeak x Apple Bloom Surprise Pop: Pokey Pierce x Pinkie Pie Quick Dash: Rumble x Scootaloo Luminia: Sassy Saddles x Thorax (another universe transfer) Gem Gleam: Snails X Silver Spoon Cumulus: Sky Stinger x Vapor Trail Spectra: Soarin x Rainbow Dash Thunder Cloud: Soarin x Rainbow Dash Molto Vivace: Songbird Serenade x Rainbow Dash (another universe transfer) Crystal Fire: Spike x Rarity Kunzite: Spike x Rarity Opal: Spike x Rarity Bright Idea: Sunburst x Starlight Glimmer Sunset Sparkle: Sunburst x Starlight Glimmer Luster Dawn (Yes, I know she's from the show but I wanted to incorporate her in the next gens): Sunburst x Starlight Glimmer Dawn Delight: Sunset Shimmer x Trixie Lulamoon Royal Blue: Blue Blood x Twilight Sparkle (another universe transfer) Spring Breeze: Vapor Trail x Tree Hugger Evermore: Zecora x Gizmo Lightning Strike: Master x Marble Pie (He is not sure where/when he came from anymore)

Non next gens: Spell Caster - Currently a statue Alicorn Poupée - Living Doll Stellar Cables - Alicorn Flicker - Changeling Mimic - Reformed Changeling Chambers - Currently a ghost Draconequus Everest - Draconequus Berry Blue - Earth Pony Film Reel - Earth Pony Flora Fauna - Earth Pony Harvest - Dead Earth Pony (Can appear as a ghost) Herbal Remedy - Earth Pony Light Heart - Earth Pony Melody Fever (DJ Fever Beats) - Earth Pony Music Rush - Earth Pony Paint Point - Earth Pony Phantom Ink - Possessed Earth Pony Quill Pen - Assumed Earth Pony Rapid Gear - Earth Pony Sun Dial - Currently a ghost Earth Pony Swift Apple - Earth Pony Wave Breaker - Earth Pony Bursting Flame - Pegasus/Color Drinker (Subset of Vamponies) Cross Stitch - Unicorn Fast Catch - Pegasus Fire Forge - Earth Pony Kiwi Tart - Unicorn Sweet Note - Earth Pony Twirling Ribbon - Earth Pony Gray Claw - Griffon Crescent - Hippogriff Fallon - Hippogriff Amphy - Fenec Fox Earth Pony Hybrid Draco - ??? Pony Hybrid Forest Jewel - Deer Unicorn Hybrid Mizu - Ray Pony Hybrid Night Shade - Deer Changeling Hybrid Willow - Deer Pegasus Hybrid King Variant - Dead Kirin King (Can appear as a ghost) Spring Leaf - Kirin Charlie and Dave - Two headed lamb Granite - Diamond Dog Maple Tree - Dikdik Oak Tree - Dikdik Droplet - Pegasus Dusk Light - Pegasus/Color Drinker (Subset of Vamponies) Gale Force - Currently a ghost Pegasus Vampony Happy Sales - Pegasus Popcorn - Pegasus Shady Deal - Pegasus Starlight Flight - Pegasus/Color Drinker (Subset of Vamponies) Sweet Smile - Pegasus Sweet Treat - Pegasus Violet - Pegasus (another universe transfer) Tango - Siren (Looks younger than actually is) Autumn Leaf - Unicorn Chai Tea - Unicorn Cuddle Bug - Unicorn Ink Blot - Unicorn Lily Pad - Unicorn Peppercorn - Unicorn Professor Spark - Unicorn Red Shine - Unicorn Silver Star - Unicorn Song Note - Unicorn Stardew Valley - Unicorn Symphony - Currently a ghost Unicorn Winter Breeze - Unicorn Moon Mist - Vampony If you want to ask any of the characters a random question, just be sure to put who you want to ask. Hope this helps!

~ GPG Mod

[vividracing]

New Post has been published on https://www.vividracing.com/blog/top-8-best-modifications-for-the-chevrolet-c8-corvette/

Top 8 Best Modifications For The Chevrolet C8 Corvette

For model year 2020, Chevrolet had initially aimed to produce 40,000 C8 Corvettes but with chip shortages and other constraints, they managed just over 20,000 units. Despite this, the C8’s flew off the lots faster than a set of New Balance 605’s on Macy’s Father’s Day Sale… except they were everything but ‘On Sale’. 

The Chevy Corvette has held its position as the quintessential American sports car since its debut in 1953, minus its 1983 skip year. While the C8 represents a significant departure from previous Corvette designs, it maintains one consistent aspect—delivering impressive performance at a relatively accessible MSRP.

In the world of C8 modifications, we’re delving into must-have enhancements that won’t break the bank if you’re one of the unfortunate souls that paid Mclaren prices for your Chevrolet. These Top 8 modifications are easily accessible and sure to make sure you stand out from the other vettes at your local Cars & Coffee.

1. Wilwood Drilled & Slotted Brake Kit and Pads

Chevrolet’s OE options for the Corvette braking system have always been plentiful and designed to be direct swaps designed to fit all trim levels with minor modification. However, the secondhand asking price has been the Achilles Heal of the OEM upgrades since the C5. Luckily, Wilwood recognized this and offers a very impressive OEM+ upgrade.

Despite its impressive stopping power, the factory brake pads tend to produce a substantial amount of dust, particularly noticeable on non-black wheeled C8 Corvettes. While it is not a major performance concern, aesthetically, you can do much better for that level of performance. 

The Willwood SX6R  Front Brake kit features directional staggered vane 15” rotors and a 6 piston Caliper that bolts up to the factory spindle and doesn’t compromise the factory ABS system.

Featured Product: Wilwood SX6R Big Brake Dynamic Front Brake Kit SRP Drilled & Drilled Rotor Red Caliper Chevrolet Corvette C8 2020+

Part Number: #140-17004-DR

2. Auto Addict LED Sequential Taillights

When the C7 dropped, the room was split in terms of Chevrolet’s lighting decisions. While the circular tails had become a sort of Corvette key identifying feature, the C7 would feature U-shaped runners that many would describe as Ferrari inspired. 

Chevrolet unapologetically continued this trend into the C8, but with the extreme body lines and sweeping side scoops, the U’s took more of a C shape, and our friends at Auto Addict decided to enhance that third dimension, smoke them out, and fix them “in sequence”.

Featured Product: Auto Addict USA Euro Smoke Style LED Taillights Amber Sequential Pair Corvette C8 2020-2024

Part Number: #AA_CORVT_TL_EUR_C8

3. Vorsteiner VPX-101 Wheel 20×9 | 21×12

With the C8, Chevrolet took a couple of setps backwards with the wheel design, making them appear to be more of an afterthought than a deliberate part of the design. We were spoiled with C6 and C7 factory wheel options, so much so that when the C8 was revealed, the wheels were noted for lacking any depth, appeared too small, and ultimately looked budget. 

Vorsteiner VPX-101 wheels are the answer to the C8’s aesthetic shortcomings. Available in your choice of finishes, the VPX 101 utilizes T6-6061 aerospace grade aluminum that is TUV rated for safety. This means, you get a 1-Piece Forged Monoblock that not only increases your diameter and mechanical grip for hard launches, but also lowers the C8’s unsprung weight for the corners. 

Featured Product: Vorsteiner VPX-101 Forged Monoblock Wheel Set 20×9 | 21×12 Liquid Smoke Chevrolet Corvette C8 2020+

Part Number: #VOR-VPX-101-Corvette

4. Eventuri Air Intake

The factory C8 intake is impressive, but is designed more around comfort and emissions, meaning it could be better. This Eventuri system boasts double Venturi Housings, offering the largest internal intake volume in the market, supporting power outputs exceeding 800hp. Due to OEM trunk panel limitations, Eventuri reimagined the OE intake system, crafting it from clear Polycarbonate to display the carbon intake when the trunk is open. By expanding the intake volume, high-powered builds can maximize performance gains of up to +18whp & +17lb ft. of torque! It also looks incredible. 

Featured Product: Eventuri Black Carbon Intake System Chevrolet C8 Corvette Coupe

Part Number: #140-17004-DR

5. Borla ATAK Catback Exhaust

Getting optimal performance from your Corvette is essential. Upgrading your exhaust system not only enhances the car’s sound but can also unleash additional power. Among mid-engine, high-performance vehicles, the C8 Corvette tends to lean towards a less aggressive sound. However, we knew shortly after GM announced the C8, our friends at Borla would be firing up the welders and starting on adapting their ultra-aggressive ATAK cat-back for the C8 platform. While it won’t be as aggressive as Matt Field’s Borla Exhaust C6 or the upcoming C8 Formula Drift Cars, Borla can proudly claim to have one of the most aggressive muffler systems in existence for the C8 Corvette and Vivid Racing can proudly state that we have them in stock. 

Featured Product: Borla ATAK Cat Back Exhaust System

Part Number: #140839

6. ProCharger

Woah woah woah! Everything up to this point has been relatively bolt-on, relatively relatable, and relatively mild. We can’t just jump straight into forced induction, right? Wrong. The 6..2L LT’s, while different in terms of injection strategy are no different than the tried and true LS’s in that they LOVE boost… and so does ProCharger! The mid-engine setup of the C8 Corvette provides excellent weight distribution, yet it posed complexities for various typical aftermarket performance enhancements frequently seen in Corvettes, notably supercharger additions. The unique layout of the LT2 engine presented a challenge, one that ProCharger took on willingly. After extensive research and development, they’ve devised a comprehensive DIY C8 blower kit, allowing you to inject a substantial surge of boosted power into your LT2-powered C8 Corvette!

7. RCS ST Aero Kit

Like many, while I was stoked for the release of the C8, I was not too impressed with the Aero from factory. After seeing Chip Foose’s rendition of the C8, I knew I could never look at it the same way again. That was, until RCS released their C8 Aero Kit. Unlike a majority of what’s available on the market, RSC didn’t just stop at the front lip. Their C8 Kit, known for it’s premium quality and lack of fiberglass components, is a comprehensive full carbon fiber aero kit that features a front splitter, high wing spoiler, side skirts, rear diffuser, hatch vents, Engine intake side vents, mirror covers, front intake vents, and B-pillar covers all finished in a gloss carbon fiber to complete the C8’s supercar look and feel.

Featured Product: RCS ST Aero Kit C8 Corvette 2020-2023

Part Number: #RSCVETST

8. Headers

As the factory Engine Control Unit (ECU) remains locked, tuning a C8 to optimize gains from bolt-on upgrades is hardly repeatable. Additionally, where in previous generations of Corvette the catalytic converters have been the killer of gains, the C8’s factory high flow cats are barely a hindrance at all. And, while a few companies have risen to the challenge, Kooks has released their highly anticipated 3” Collector, 1-7/8” primary Super Street Series Headers that works in harmony with the factory systems, but helps evacuate and scavenge the exhaust gasses GM missed. While known for the work in the American Muscle world, I’m kind of hearing a more exotic tone accompanying Kooks exhausts recently, which could mean they have something in development for future C8 trims.

Featured Product: Kooks 3″ 1-7/8 Super Street Series Headers

Part Number: #21801400

There are dozens of other great ways to modify your C8 Corvette. Let our performance specialists help you decide what’s right for you by calling 1-480-966-3040 or emailing sales@vividracing.com.