#your two leads are conquistadors

[sephirajo]

[wylanzahn]

New-ish post, kinda posting this on different platforms and getting a general vibe check for some ideas I have. But basically this Halloween I want to actually do something for the TTRPG and Actualplay world (oh yeah I’m into those kinds of things). I want to try and get both players, GMs, and casual viewers alike something fun to look forward to this especially spooky season. I’ll probably talk a little more when we get closer to the actual season of scare-giving but just know that if you’re interested I’m still looking for people to join in!!

As my team and I’d first debut we’re going to try and do a two to four session actual play, which will probably be released in the weeks leading up to Halloween. We’ve had a couple good friend way in on the matter of “setting” but now I come to you fine folk. Mind you this is a horror campaign/arc so if…

Isn’t your thing, keep on a moving.

But without further ado here are a couple of the possible settings for our players, and myself, this coming espookee season…

1.) Somewhere off the coast of Florida, 1926 end of the first major housing boom in the state, a small island which calls back to the Spanish Empire, is Isla Boñyela, a small port made tourist location during the boom of disposable wealth in 1920s America. A small group of friends from the northeast tag along down for the perfect paradise vacation. Only to discover the island is much much older than anyone could have ever assumed. Whilst dealing with upstart gangsters, unnerving US soldiers, and the terrified locals they find something older than even undead conquistadors.

While I don’t have a working title, this is an old project in the running which I’ve had a few attempts at revamping over time. Its previous title was “perfect paradise vacation,” and runs on the Call of Cthulhu 7th Edition game. Anywho it’s a blast of fun with Caribbean lore, tone of anti-imperialism, and something dark lurking beneath the waves.

2.) 1950’s America, the nonexistent state of Mid-Atlantia (DMV coded) in a small suburban neighborhood where nothing goes wrong… it’s almost “All-Hallows-Eve” and little Johnny and Susie want nothing more than to trick or treat this year with all the big kids, Dad’s finally getting the big promotion at work, and Mom just got a new waffle iron! Sure everything is neat here in America. Heck you just got new neighbors! Newlyweds in fact from somewhere big and fancy, they sure aren’t like any of us in our simple town. But… and you can’t say exactly why but things are different. Or perhaps they’re all too the same? Everyday a repeat of ever other bland day that followed you over and over and over and over… and you could swear, while no one may listen to you there’s someone out there. Stalking you from outside your own home- or- perhaps, he’s just your friendly new neighbor welcoming you… to the end.

Ahhhhhh! I’ve also been working on this one for a sec and god writing it out does excite me. This is also a Call of Cthulhu game but modified/homebrewed to have a uniquely 1950s horror feel. This is definitely one of the more unique games I’ve written and am truly interested in seeing where it goes (even if we don’t choose it). This is for those who feel like isolation, fear of the unknown, fear from within, and liminal space horror comes best into play! So whadya say neighbor?

3.) The Enemy of My Enemy is My Friend, or How I Learned to Love Strahd, okay so this one is a lot less horror-y and falls much more under the comedic spooky category, just so yall know. Deep in the middle of Barovia, the ancient kingdom of Vampires, meets a council of Count Strahd von Zarovich's greatest commanders and lieutenants to hunt down Strahd's greatest enemy Rudolph van Richten and his party of heroes known as "The Grape-Smashers." Strahd's lieutenants have been gifted powers greater than any mere mortals, but are these gifts enough to stop Van Richten, or even enough to stop the personal ambitions of each other? Come find out in "How I Learned to Love Strahd."

Okay, as much as this may seem like a joke suggestion it cracks me up and I feel like it would be ill-advised of me to not at least mention it. In an era where "The Curse of Strahd," is well-overdone at this point, it's worth a take from an all evil "revenge story." Obviously this will be in Dungeons and Dragons 5th Edition, which, in my opinion, is really hard to use for horror, but this is a nice go-around. Come for the evil PCs, maybe a PvP battle or two, and a game of intrigue in the shadows of Barovia! All that and a buff Van Richten.

4.) Before Annapolis was ever called such it was known as Providence, a settlement of exiled Puritans in the Province of Maryland, but these early days were no easy set-up for the far-flung protestants... in the mid 1600s the English Civil War spilled out into their holdings across the waves as brother turned on brother, clan erasing clan, and something from the shores of the Old World would arrive in the New. When around every corner could be someone you've known your whole life, what's stopping them from hunting you in the depths of winter. All matters made worse when rumors of a witch begins circulating your small home.

Think "The VVitch" (2015) meets "A Field in England" (2013) meets Atun Shei's recent film "The Sudsbury Devil" (2023). It is the unexplored wilderness of early colonial Maryland, but the hateful warmongering that slowly builds that makes the horror and tension so clear. Unsure of what system we'll be using, but maybe the new Regency Cthulhu system.

5.) The Great Baltimore Fire of 1904 destroyed some 140 Acres of Baltimore proper... and in it's rubble awakened something far worse. But you and your fellow survivors are just trying to get by in the aftermath of the fire... only for something to call out, whether some strange magicks or perhaps just a sickness... but sickness doesn't even linger like this... it doesn't call to you...

Some more local history, aspiring from the actual Fire of 1904 things quickly devolve from there as rumors of a cult begin to spread along the streets of Rosland Park... a mysterious illness leaving even more dead... and the death of an eclectic professor. Definitely using the Call of Cthulhu 7th Edition for this one.

Aaaaaaaand that's it! Let me know what y'all think!

[kassandrasdisciple]

~~~ spoilers for mystery incorporated ~~~

Like all my posts this'll be a rambling mess.

I didn't dedicate enough memory to mystery incorporated when I watched it as a child, this is a masterpiece.

The mystery is actually pretty good, it's set up well, there's crumbs everywhere, the repeating theme of "this has happened before" the other mystery groups. Do I understand what happened in the final act? Do I know why they didn't just destroy the keys/pieces/coffin when they had the chance? Did I understand the extradimentional beings? No to all the above, and guess what? I don't care, and that's how you know it's a good mystery, there are dozens of poirot, mrs marple and Columbo stories that I never know what's going on in and I still enjoy them. I wanted to know and I wanted out gang to succeed AND. THEY. DID.

Second point H O L Y S H I T, how many tragic characters can you stuff in a narrative? Some where for jokes, like the conquistador serving classic catholic guilt™ that makes him haunt the literal psychoscape. But we also had characters like Mr. E and angel/Cassie, the later who's fate I didn't realise was real until ... the marcie scene.

Marcie aka hotdog water, was introduced as a one off, villain of the week, with some nerd quirks and then I blinked and she was patroclus to Velmas Achilles, the lead in a Sapphic Romeo and Juliet, my baby. I won't lie, I had to pause and go listen to Two Slow Dancers on my bathroom floor. The gaul of this show to hit me in the face twice, once by gatling gunning my gays and twice by making me realize my DJ queen did infact get blown to pieces and I've been in denial for half a season.

Anyways watch mystery incorporated, it's 2 seasons 26 episodes each and unlike most netflix shows it can't be canceled and your guaranteed a completed story.

In the words of my girlie Marcie when looking at Velma from her bed

"That's my girl"

[adobe-outdesign]

Since it's been a while, could we have your thoughts on the other evos for the Paldean starters?

We'll go with the last two stages of the Quaxly line, as those are the only starters I haven't done yet:

Quaxwell isn't quite as unique of a middle evo as Floragato or Crocalor, as it doesn't have a distinctive visual element that's entirely its own (like Floragato's yo-yo or Crocalor's sombrero). With that said, it still avoids being nothing but a transitional stage due to its anatomy (not as humanoid as Quaquaval but not as duck-like as Quaxly) and its colors, which keep Quaxly's white and aqua but add a predominant darker blue into the mix.

Visually, I like the way the hand feathers are designed, and how the shape and patterning on them is mimicked by both the chest and the tail. I also like the simple limited color palette, with the light blue drawing attention to the face/eyes and a bit more on the chest and tail to draw the color through.

The one thing that bugs me about the design is the "hat" on top. It feels weirdly bulbous compared to either its evo or pre-evo due to how high up it goes, and the hard highlight makes it look bizarrely plastic-y. Something about the blue on the feet also bugs me, probably just because it feels rather arbitrary. Aside from that, it's solid enough and makes the direction the line is going in clear.

Thankfully, Quaquaval is a carnival dancer and not some kind of conquistador, as was my original fear when trying to guess what direction Quaxly would go in. It's also a peacock, something more obvious when its "aqua feathers" are spread out:

I like what they were going for overall here. The dancer theme is clear enough but not overly on-the-nose, and combining a peacock with the festive costumes worn during carnival makes sense. There's also a fairly clear through line with it and its pre-evos.

With that said, though, I do have two major issues with this design. First, the anatomy is pretty wonky. You have fairly humanoid legs that lead up into a duck pelvis, which then abruptly joins with a more humanoid torso at a 90 degree angle, almost like a centaur. It's bizarre to say the least, and really makes it look stranger than it should. Here are two fan redesigns that give it proper bird legs that I'm rather fond of:

The colors also bug me a bit. The red feels extraneous, especially on the coot feet, where it only serves to draw more attention to the toes of all things. The dark blue also feels a bit too dark—I would've preferred something closer to Quaxwell's palette— and it's strange to have white only in the neck area and nowhere else. I'm also not fond of the wing-hands, which look a bit broken compared to Quaxwell's, and I feel like the string of tail feathers at the side aren't needed.

Overall, the line has the right idea and some interesting concepts, but unfortunately some funky anatomy really holds it back from being fantastic.

Also, shoutout to its running animation. They didn't need to make it that funny, but they did and I respect that.

[headfullofpresley]

Elvis Presley Tag Game

Hi babies! I know there's already a few of these floating around, but I decided to make one as well because I love doing and reading these (so definitely tag me in yours~). Also, ignore me naming 300 songs for each question, I couldn't pick one 💀.

Questions are under the cut. 💗

When was the first time you heard of Elvis?

He's always been in my life because his music has always been played in my family (especially during Christmas lol), so I guess I kinda grew up with him.

What's your favorite era?

I love him in all era's tbh, but the 60s have a special place in my heart.

Favorite song(s) from the '50s?

Harbor Lights, How Do You Think I Feel, Anyplace Is Paradise, Don't Be Cruel, Wear My Ring Around Your Neck, Ain't That Loving You Baby, I Was The One, One-Sided Love Affair.

Favorite song(s) from the '60s?

Dirty, Dirty Feeling, Make Me Know It, Such A Night, Surrender, Reconsider Baby, Starting Today, (Such An) Easy Question, Witchcraft, Little Sister, Kiss Me Quick, True Love Travels On a Gravel Road, Suspicious Minds, Summer Kisses, Winter Tears.

Favorite song(s) from the '70s?

The Wonder of You, Patch It Up, We Can Make the Morning, Always on My Mind, If You Talk in Your Sleep, Moody Blue, Make The World Go Away, Snowbird, Never Been to Spain, I'll Never Fall in Love Again, Are You Sincere, This is Our Dance, Walk A Mile in My Shoes. I CAN'T JUST PICK ONE LMAO

All time favorite song(s) that you simply cannot skip?

How Do You Think I Feel, Starting Today, Moody Blue, I'll Never Fall in Love Again and Make The World Go Away.

Least favorite song?

Tutti Frutti, Ready Teddy and Milkcow Blues Boogie. don't hate me 👀

Favorite gospel song(s)?

Swing Down Sweet Chariot, How Great Thou Art, Crying in The Chapel, Bosom of Abraham and Lead Me, Guide Me.

Favorite country song(s)?

Snowbird, Whole Lot-ta Shakin' Goin' On, Funny How Time Slips Away, The Fool, Flaming Star, U.S. Male.

Favorite non-English song?

We'll Be Together (most of it is english but it still counts bc i love this song ☻), Wooden Heart and Santa Lucia.

A song(s) that makes you feel nostalgic?

Jailhouse Rock, Can't Help Falling in Love, Heartbreak Hotel, A Little Less Conversation, Are You Lonesome Tonight and Return to Sender - they remind me of my childhood sm.

A song(s) that makes you cry?

There's Always Me, I Need Somebody to Lean On and Unchained Melody.

A song(s) that makes you wanna dance?

Polk Salad Annie, The Love Machine, Vino, Dinero Y Amor, Bossa Nova Baby, Rock-A-Hula Baby, Return to Sender, Slicin' Sand, Happy Ending, Blue River, A Little Less Conversation.

Favorite song Elvis has covered?

SWEEEEET CAROLINE! 💃🏼

What's a modern song you wish you could hear Elvis cover?

Paper Doll by John Mayer - i want it, i need it! *slams table*. also, Roller Coaster by Danny Vera.

Do you prefer vinyl or CD?

I love both and I love the nostalgic feel of a vinyl, but when it comes to sound, I prefer CDs.

Favorite album?

From Elvis in Memphis, Love Letters from Elvis, From Elvis Presley Boulevard, Memphis, Tennessee and Moody Blue.

Favorite movie soundtrack?

Blue Hawaii, King Creole, It Happened At The World's Fair and Fun in Acapulco.

Favorite live performance?

The Ed Sullivan performances, my god. But I'm also obsessed with the show from August 11, 1970 for That's The Way It Is.

A live performance you wish you were present at?

My ass would be front row at every show, idc.

Favorite jumpsuit(s)?

Adonis, Black Conquistador (IM OBSESSED I TELL YOU; OBSESSED!), Conchos, Royal Blue Fireworks, American Eagle, Pharao and Silver Phoenix. His two piece fits were also very *chef's kiss*.

LIKE HELLO????? TALENTED, BRILLIANT, INCREDIBLE, AMAZING, SHOW STOPPING, SPECTACULAR, NEVER THE SAME, TOTALLY UNIQUE, COMPLETELY NOT EVER BEEN DONE BEFORE!!!!

Favorite movie(s)?

Blue Hawaii, Fun in Acapulco, Flaming Star and It Happened at The World's Fair. Also Viva Las Vegas and King Creole and Loving You and I'm going to shut up now.

Least favorite movie(s)?

Harum Scarum, Stay Away Joe, Kissin' Cousins and The Trouble with Girls.

Favorite co-star?

Ann-Margret and Shelley Fabares.

Favorite documentary?

Elvis by the Presleys, That's The Way It Is, Elvis on Tour and Elvis: Return to Tupelo.

Favorite interview?

This one right here. I can listen to this man talk for hours and fell asleep to this many many times lol.

Favorite car?

The Purple Cadillac Eldorado is sexy af. And also the Stutz Blackhawk... loooord.. 🥵

Do you collect merch? If so, what's the one thing you hold most dear to your heart?

I spend too much money on this man (woops), but I'm obsessed with Elvis and the Birth of Rock and Roll which contains Alfred Wertheimer's amazing work. Andddd a collector's item of the Blue Hawaii soundtrack. 💙

Do you think you'll be a fan of Elvis for the rest of your life?

Yes yes yes. He's such a big and important part of my life, I can't imagine him not being in it anymore.

tagging some of my lovely mutuals: @woundmetender @eliseinmemphis @foreverdolly @septembersghost @mrpresley @marriedtopresley @elvispresleywife @ab4eva @elvisabutler @infatuatedharleys @steph-speaks @mooodyblue - if i missed anyone, sorry bbies!

[ootymadein]

Chocolate - The Health Benefits Of Chocolate

Many studies and research have confirmed that chocolate is healthy. Research has shown that eating dark chocolate can have both physical and emotional health benefits if it is consumed in small amounts. There are many health benefits to chocolate, including mental alertness and a host of other positive effects on the body. Research has also shown that those who consume two to three chocolate bars per month are more likely to live longer than those who don't.

Research has shown that chocolate consumption can increase brain dopamine levels and serotonin levels, which suggests that it may have an antidepressant effect. Chocolate can also reduce fat intake by curbing one's appetite for fats. Aside from its overall ability to decrease appetite, cocoa also has other properties.

Dark chocolate is the best chocolate for our health. Dark chocolate contains cacao, which is rich in flavonoids. These antioxidants protect our bodies against the damaging effects of free radicals.

Free radicals are constantly threatening us, both from the air we breathe and the foods we eat. Flavonoids are important for our immune system. They help us fight diseases like cancer, asthma, allergies, type 2 diabetes, and other conditions.

Cocoa is rich in flavonoids, which prevent harmful clots forming and may lead to damage to the heart. Flavonoids in cocoa also increase blood flow by allowing blood vessels to dilate more easily. Cocoa also has properties that help to stop the inflammation process, which can be very harmful to the body.

Your heart is also helped by dark chocolate. It helps to keep your vessels flexible. It also improves blood circulation, which can help lower blood pressure. Epicatechin, a nutrient found within chocolate, can help prevent heart attacks and strokes by widening and relaxing our blood vessels.

Cocoa has been shown to decrease cardiovascular problems by increasing good cholesterol (HDL). HDL is responsible to clean and remove harmful fats from the blood vessels.

A study in Germany that was done several years ago with more than nine thousand participants revealed that those who consumed on average seven grams of chocolate per day had lower risk of heart attacks and stokes. They also had lower blood pressure.Ooty Chocolate Factory

Dark chocolate and cocoa are good sources of fiber. Chocolate is low in cholesterol. If it does, it's because it contains milk ingredients. Cholesterol is not produced by plants, so chocolate is a food derived from a plant.

Source for Vitamins and Minerals

Dark chocolate is rich in vitamins and minerals. It's rich in magnesium and iron. Vitamin B helps boost energy levels. It is also rich in copper and potassium, which are essential for good health.

Magnesium levels found in dark chocolate bars typically exceed 12% of the daily requirements. This is crucial for preventing hypertension, type 2 diabetes, and other chronic conditions.

History

Around 4000 years ago, chocolate was first discovered in Aztec and Mayan cultures. The Amazon region is believed to be the origin of the cacao plant, which is the main ingredient in chocolate. According to Aztec legend, their god Quetzalcoatl gave cacao to the Aztecs. They learned how to roast the seeds and grind them into a paste that could then be mixed with water. The Aztecs called this mixture chocotatl. They believed it gave them knowledge and wisdom.

The Spanish conquistadores brought chocolate to Spain in the 1500s. To enhance the flavor of chocolate, the Spaniards used different sweeteners and condiments. The wealthy considered chocolate a delicacy and it became a favorite beverage in Europe, until it was replaced in the 19th Century by tea and coffee.

Europe introduced solid chocolate bars in the 20th century. The health benefits of the cocoa bean were discovered in the early 1900s. This is when chocolate's popularity exploded.

Chocolate is a Part of Your Diet

Dark chocolate is the best choice if you plan to include chocolate in your diet. You should eat the healthy amount necessary to meet your daily nutritional requirements. Dark chocolate is the best choice, no matter if you prefer dark chocolate with nuts or plain. Avoid any chocolate fillings like nougat and caramel. These fillings are high in calories.

Pure dark chocolate has many health benefits. Three and a quarter ounces of dark chocolate should be consumed per day. This is the recommended daily amount of chocolate you should eat in order to stay on the healthier side.

But, just because you eat chocolate doesn't mean you're getting its health benefits. Drinking dark chocolate with milk can cause your body to not absorb the antioxidants. You should avoid eating certain types of chocolates because they are high in fats and sugar.

[studentofetherium]

Saw you were asking for asks so here we go: Thoughts on worldbuilding? you talked a bit about it on your monster girl posts but I’d like to what you like/dislike in regards to it, what you’d like to see more of and what series has the one you like the most.

a pet peeve of mine with worldbuilding is making everything centralized or making one single trait define the entire world. MTG falls into this problem a lot with the way that it often picks a single theme to build around. sometimes, it works, and can lead to large worlds which feel their size, but a lot of the times, it falls flat, leading to worlds which feel one-note and poorly thought out

to run through some examples:

Ixalan is a masterclass in worldbuilding. the concept itself is really simple: there's an island with dinosaurs and treasure. pirates and vampires want the treasure, while the natives want to be left alone. all of these is built on simple tropes (conquistadores, pirates, south american indigenous peoples, dinosaurs) and uses them to build the setting. however, importantly, the titular island of Ixalan, which is where the natives, both human (they hang out with the dinosaurs) and merfolk, live is only one small part of the world. the fact that there are two distinct native groups on the island is itself a way to develop the world, as it doesn't feel mono-cultural while still allowing them to pull from similar real-world inspirations. however, the most important thing is that the outsider factions, the vampires and pirates, come from elsewhere. they have their own homes that they come from and we only see a small piece of it. the vampires come from vampire spain which has all its big politics going on. but we don't really see much of the larger world, only hints of what it's like, which helps make it feel larger and more varied

on the other hand, there's something like Amonkhet, the Egyptian-inspired world. there's one city. and a desert. and that's it. the world has a curse which causes anyone who dies on this world to come back as a zombie, which comes into play in multiple ways. the world of Amonkhet has a culture of honorable death, where champions will fight for their living gods to earn the honor of being killed. when that happens, they're put in a big necropolis. more on that later. everyone else becomes mummies (because egypt, you see) or ends up in the desert. the desert is also crawling with horrible demon monsters. that's all the first layer of the world. that's all it has going on. except. also the world was destroyed and reshaped by an interdimensional dragon who became its god-king, and he's spent decades harvesting dead heroes from the necropolis to turn into his interdimensional army. at the end of the first story set on this world, he kills nearly everyone, including the gods, then takes his army and fucks off. the problem here is that the world is not only shallow, being made up of a single city and a single basic idea (people become mummies), but it exists purely to serve a single narrative, that being the Bolas-as-godking story which was only one part of a larger story

Kaldheim sits in the middle ground of this problem. the world itself is highly detailed and deftly crafted. it takes inspiration from norse mythology and as such has ten separate worlds all connected by the world tree, all roughly inspired by the nine realms. these have their own cultures and aesthetics and each serve a unique role in the larger world. the problem is that the world was only visited for a single set, and thus, wasn't properly explored, which makes a lot of these worlds feel one-note. i can't name any of the worlds off the top of my head (i can remember 9/10 in broad strokes, at least: BW: valhalla, UR: giants, UG: shapeshifter lake, BR: demon hell, UB: ice zombies, WG: humans, WU: the asphodel fields, RG: trolls, WR: dwarves, but i forgot elves). despite the width of the world, each of these is very simple in concept, which is a problem when the story lingered on none of these and barely even showed a few. i'm sure this world has more depth than it feels to have, and i do really like it, but because it was so poorly explored, the norse theming feels like a weak gimmick. there is no sense that this is a larger world because it all has to be explained that there are all these settings and areas around rather than having them be shown and demonstrated, not helped by an in-universe rule saying that denizens of a given realm cannot easily move to a different realm, thus making the overall world feel less cohesive

another way this issue manifests is in the writers clearly only thinking of specific areas of the world that they care about. this is most infamous for harry potter, with the different schools around the world and how poorly thought out they are, or how the Nasuverse doesn't really touch on places that the writers don't care about often, which leads to the global south being frequently ignored. for smaller works, like the average monster girl manga, i don't fault them for not thinking about this too much, because they know what they are and they aren't global, but when something is truly global (like the Nasuverse) the lack of attention to these areas becomes glaring (like Africa not existing outside of Egypt or Southeast Asia not existing outside of India) (in case you can't tell from everything else about my account, i adore Type-Moon and everything they do, but i think it's important to recognize their issues and remain critical of them) (also part of why i harp on this point so much is that i think it would be fascinating to explore the way that the systems of the world interact with and matter to these other parts of the world when they otherwise feel ignored and forgotten. at least LB7 is taking place in South America)

again, you don't need to go all out with every world or every setting. know what you are and don't overstep yourself, but if you're trying to go broad, don't become one-note or make the places you're overlooking feel obvious

[seas-storyarchive]

Au

Where Fred Sr leads the villains, all wearing their costumes (Annunaki bullshit) into a fight with the robots to help the gang.

"Why should we listen to you?"

"Oh I'm sorry, did you want a home to come back to when you eventually get out of prison?"

"Fine. We fight."

They take down robots. Sr tries to keep the citizens from harm (he was once Mayor, one of his first promises was to serve and protect the people of Crystal Cove) and reveals to Mayor Nettles that there are connecting caves that lead towards the forest where people can hide. While she and Bronson lead people to safety, Sr saves the parents of the Gang, making sure the get out as well as exchanging words with them (they were mostly nasty but he did ask them if they needed help getting to the ledge). He saves Marcie, using his Freak claws to cut the locks off the box, telling her to get out.

It isn't until it's just him and the few villains yhat didn't escape with the townspeople (cowards, but somewhat justifiable) against the robots, buying the gang time, that he finally says to Fred as he goes to the door;

"I know everything that I did was so horribly wrong, but I do mean it when I say you are the best part of me. Now go, lead your friends in stopping this monster. I probably won't be here to see you victorious, but I'll give it my best to buy you time.

Go, Fred. Lead them to tomorrow."

Freddy, who wants to say something, is pulled away by Daphne as the robots are getting closer. They have to go now.

That's the last that the two see of each other, until Nibiru is awoken. But Sr isn't going down to that either. He takes in the Monstrous Freak, during a moment of crisis to protect a mother and her son, using it's raw energy and natural opposing nature to Nibiru to fight back and oppose it as that is it's only purpose. Summoning the spirits of the conquistadors and the good that was within the previous Mystery Solvers (as well as their animals although possibly sans the previous Mystery Inc, except Cassidy) to fight back against the army as well.

But it only buys the gang so much time. The spirits are all taken by Nibiru, the Freak is ripped from Sr as he tries to protect the gang and their parents which the parents are grabbed as well. As Sr is almost grabbed, Freddy pulls him out of range.

"Freddy, let go!"

"No Dad! No!"

"Son.. you have to lead them to tomorrow."

"But-!"

"Frederick Montgomery Jones Jr.. please. I'm not worth saving."

"Juggling jelly frogs Dad! I'm trying to say that I forgive you! You raised me, the best that you could, and I just want to say" he hugs Sr tight. "That I love you."

Sr hugs him back. "I love you too." At a roar, they break apart. Sr sets off one of Freddy's net traps to catapult the gang away as the creatures close in.

And that's how Fred Sr's story ends.

[witchysolfan]

Growing up with a Peruvian American family means hearing songs in Quechua cd recordings on high speakers while everyone dances, and wondering what the words mean.

Getting excited to drink Inca Kola as a rare treat and pretending it is golden liquid from the sun.

Doña Peppa and Turrón de Doña Peppa was a favorite whenever brought in.

Parties of people your family was related to or friends with coming over and speaking fast in a mix of Spanish and bits of Quechua.

The colorful threads of blankets with llamas and designs always popped out.

A pink faced doll with round cheeks and wearing the dancer costumes sits on the shelf and looks down

You wish to play the pan flutes your family brought over from Peru but some of the wood has broken and you hardly can get a tune. But you still think you hear the winds of the mountains in your ears.

Catholic imagery mixed with Andean decor greets your visions when coming over to the south side to visit your relatives.

The city you come to is gray.

Fog seems to be always present.

It’s gray here.

There are dogs with their ribs showing running about and there are gates protecting the houses here.

You wonder why.

Then you take a train ride to Cusco and suddenly color is everywhere. Stones beneath your feet. There once was a celebration of the Inti that started beneath the window of your hotel. Your mother snd cousin get ready quickly to come join in and witness it with you at the open grassy area where large numbers of people have also gathered.

You witness a llama sacrificed with their heart cut out and held up for all to see.

There are cooked rats available to eat by local vendors. You are curious but your mother leads you away, not interested in trying out the meat.

Once upon a time, you ran in the night to give an old beggar woman change and then ran the opposite direction to give a mother some change too. The next day, you see that your change has only allowed the mother and her two children to eat hard candies. It is hardly a meal.

Years later, you wished you had given in to your sudden urge to offer them your pretty pink coat. Your imagined mother’s horrified embarrassment be damned.

Maybe she would’ve been proud of you back then if you did.

There once was a disconnect, a sort of shame, in wanting to connect with your heritage. The cross looms over you as people in churches with their pale skin and blonde hair tell you to not believe in such things. It is not the path to God. It is not the correct path to follow. Keep your head down, mixed child, and follow the “right” path away from ‘pagan’ practices, Mountain Goddesses, Condors, and your own heritage.

If the conquistadores had never come, you might’ve been worshipping different Gods.

Maybe you were meant to go back to your blood and roots.

Maybe you don’t have to be ashamed.

Maybe the “right” path had always been going back to those mountains and learning more of your own history.

[themurphyzone]

Nova Ch 9

AN: I know it’s been two months since the last update, so thanks for your patience!

Ch 9: Gravity

AO3 Link, FFN Link

Brain didn’t remember walking back to the lab. While his thoughts meandered in many different directions, they all converged into one harsh truth.

He’d lost his only lead to Snowball.

If only he’d been faster. If only he’d noticed the Selenian camera sooner. So many ifs, so many actions he could’ve taken to prevent losing such a valuable item.

He’d allowed himself to be distracted from his goal. Terra was a fascinating planet, yet burgers and karaoke and sunglasses wouldn’t bring him closer to establishing his dominion over it. Pinky’s short attention span must’ve affected him too.

How else could he explain it?

His feet were on autopilot, his mind in a daze. Pinky tried to start a conversation several times, mostly about trivial things like the shape of a cloud or a flower that grew between the cracks of the sidewalk. But he trailed off once he realized Brain wasn’t interested in any of them.

His tears had ceased by the time they arrived on the lab’s doorstep, but the raw ache in his chest remained. The neck of his shirt was damp and slightly darker from where the tears had splashed down, and there were similar dark patches on Pinky’s lavender blouse.

No physical reminders could remain of his momentary weakness, so he quickly took off the shirt and shorts Pinky had given him, leaving them behind on the counter. Then he snatched up his black jumpsuit and pulled it over his body.

Though it didn’t make him feel better. Somehow, the jumpsuit seemed more restrictive than before. He unlatched the window and sat down on the protruding edge, the fabric pulling tightly against his limbs.

It was designed for efficiency, not for comfort.  

Behind him, Pinky gathered up the crumpled clothing, and Brain tried not to feel guilty for treating the items Pinky had generously given him like trash.

It was Pinky’s fault for distracting him in the first place.

Find Snowball. Take over the world.

Two simple steps. Anything not related to the above was unnecessary.

“You want some tea, Brain?” Pinky asked. “I can put lemon and honey in it too if you want.”

Brain’s ear twitched, but he said nothing. He swung his legs over the edge of the windowsill, hoping Pinky would take the hint and leave him alone.

But Pinky was incapable of recognizing subtle cues.

“Brain?” Pinky called again. 

Pinky’s footsteps increased in volume, then Brain felt a hand on his shoulder. It was a soft touch, but even so, Brain didn’t want it.

He didn’t need pity.

Brain shrugged the hand off, and Pinky made a tiny, surprised noise that was quieter than the vehicles rushing down the road, but was far too loud for Brain’s ears.

He knew what Pinky had done for him, even if they were strangers.

But Brain was going to rule the world soon. He shouldn’t feel guilty over this. This arrangement was temporary. 

He looked at Pinky and caught the downturned blue eyes, the rejected hand still poised to comfort. Pinky’s other arm clutched the bundle of clothing Brain had discarded.

“Leave me alone, Pinky,” Brain ordered, turning away so he didn’t have to see that hurt expression.

“Narf…” Pinky whispered, and his sadness was palpable as he trudged back into the lab, leaving Brain alone with his thoughts.

It was what he asked for. He couldn’t take back commands once issued.

He had to be unyielding at all times.

Laying back against the cool surface of the windowsill, he stared up at the faraway crescent that was New Selene.

It was so tiny from his current location. Curiously, he raised one hand to the sky, and New Selene was hardly bigger than his own body part.

Though it was a matter of perspective, he found that it was a concept even his brilliant mind had difficulty comprehending.

Logically, he knew New Selene wasn’t big. Simply empty and barren, with life concentrated in tiny little pockets, which gave the illusion of largeness.

In the grand scheme of the universe, Terra was simply an insignificant body as well. Even the sun, the very star that all life depended on within this section of the universe, paled in comparison to the largest stars.

And if comprehending size wasn’t enough, there was also a matter of distance. While many alien cultures had developed technology that enabled ships to travel faster than the speed of light, the simple truth was that light was the fastest naturally occurring substance in nature.

Stargazing meant looking into a canopy of history, stars only appearing as they did millions or billions years ago. It was a sobering thought, that stars could exist for that long when recorded history for many civilizations was hardly a fraction of their timespan.

Then there was his life.

Though some part of him knew that nothing lasts forever, and no matter how much he wished to be remembered as a wise and powerful leader, there would come a day where his name would be forever lost and his legacy forgotten.

He just hoped that day wouldn’t come shortly after his death.

There was noise around him. Chirping from the vegetation, the roar of vehicles, Pinky humming from somewhere within the lab.

Though the background noise was more welcome than the near silence of New Selene, it still didn’t drive away all his spiraling thoughts.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been staring into the night, but a rustle from the bushes underneath the windowsill drew his attention.

Then he spotted a familiar tuft of amber fur, the stubby antennae, a flash of pink eyes—and Brain tumbled off the windowsill in shock, landing in the dirt with a painful thud.

Snowball?

Brain rubbed his head, clearing away the dizziness. Maybe he was just clinging to false hope. That he wanted to find Snowball so much that he imagined his presence.

Then the familiar chill hit him, and he knew Snowball was actually here.

The aisam studied his claws nonchalantly, letting a fine mist coat them and evaporate into the night. His control over his enhancements was impeccable. Perhaps the haughty, refined air Snowball wielded should’ve been a warning, but Brain was far too relieved and exhausted to care.

Snowball was back. Soon they’d rule the world together.

That’s what truly mattered.

Slowly, Brain got to his feet, wincing as a muscle pulled on his left thigh.

Snowball simply waited, and while part of Brain was annoyed at Snowball for not helping him up, he was also glad that Snowball allowed him to keep his self-sufficiency intact.

“I was looking for you,” Brain breathed, unable to keep the relief out of his voice. “Where were you? What happened to the rest of the Conquistador?”

Snowball draped an arm over Brain’s shoulders and pulled him closer, and Brain nearly stumbled over his feet. He sighed, the cold electron flow seeping into his antennae and body, but this was a special occasion, so he decided to put up with it just this once.

He must’ve been spoiled by Pinky’s warm and lively electrons. A shiver ran up Brain’s spine, and he clenched his fists together so his involuntary reflex would be less noticeable. 

“Oh, how I missed you and all your idiosyncrasies, Brain,” Snowball said, patting Brain on the head. Brain scowled. The move felt awfully condescending. “You see, the Conquistador’s back section wasn’t structurally stable. It must’ve broken off when we entered Terra’s atmosphere.”

“That ship is my magnum opus!” Brain snarled, his fur bristling. He shoved Snowball off and crossed his arms. “My engineering skills are top of the line. There were no flaws in the structural integrity!”

Snowball didn’t look all that impressed. “I’m sorry, old friend. But even the most skilled engineer can’t salvage second hand equipment.”

Brain sighed, reluctantly conceding Snowball’s point. The Conquistador was built out of scrap metal, not the newest and flashiest pieces of technology. Deep down, he knew that the ship would never function as well as the most advanced fleet of vessels, though he’d never admit it.

“And what about you, Snowball? How did you find me?” Brain asked, deciding a slight change of topic was in order.

“I managed to land my portion of the ship without incurring too many injuries,” Snowball said, gesturing to his body. If he was injured at all, he hid it remarkably well. Brain looked for any telltale signs of bruising or bandages, but didn’t find any. Not a single piece of singed fur either. “The internal communication system was fried, but the landing gear was mercifully intact.”

Then again, Snowball could’ve spent some time grooming himself before he came here. He liked to appear his best.

Perhaps he should’ve refined the communication system more. Then they could’ve avoided this entire mess and gotten around to world domination sooner.

Though some tiny part of him protested that statement. If he hadn’t crash landed in the field, he wouldn’t have met Pinky.

He quickly beat down that notion.

Pinky was an easily distracted idiot. Just a mere convenience until he found his footing in this new world.

“And the cameras were in working condition as well. I figured you landed somewhere nearby, and I sent them to scour the city to find you,” Snowball continued. “Naturally, you can imagine my surprise when one of them located you in a public location, singing with some moronic Terran.”

“You witnessed that?” Brain asked. He felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

He didn’t know much about music on this planet, but when Pinky had dedicated his last song to Pharfignewton and Snowball, somehow he felt that he had to drop everything to listen.

It was a kind gesture for someone who never personally met Snowball.

And Brain felt uneasy at the scorn in Snowball’s voice. That simple action didn’t deserve mockery.

Snowball shrugged. “You can’t let anything distract you, Brain. Not fairy tales, not the whims and trivialities of this planet, and certainly not incompetent nincompoops who only care about stuffing themselves with food.”  

This wasn’t how he’d wanted their reunion to go.

Somehow, he’d imagined it to be happier. He thought Snowball would be more concerned for his well-being.

It took all his strength to hold his ears high. He wouldn’t show any sign of weakness.

“Now, onto business…” Snowball clapped his hands together, but before he could announce what he planned, there was a sudden burst of activity on the windowsill above their heads.

“Braaa-aaain!” Pinky called. “Where’d you go? I made tea with lemon and honey! Wanna try some? Poit! I was gonna put in rainbow sprinkles or confetti but I didn’t know what you liked so I just left those out!”

Pinky came into view, holding a thimble out to where he expected Brain to be, but he paused when Brain wasn’t there. He paced around, his footsteps steadily growing more frantic and his tail twitching erratically.

Brain felt Snowball’s gaze boring into the back of his skull, obviously questioning why he’d acquaint himself with such a clingy buffoon, but he ignored it.

“Down here, Pinky!” Brain shouted.

Pinky looked down, nearly spilling the steamy contents of the thimble. The worry etched in his face vanished and was replaced by a ridiculous grin. “Oh, there you are, Brain! I was looking everywhere for you! And egad, you have a guest! Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve gotten a thimble for him too!”

“Yes, Brain,” Snowball smirked, and Brain knew he was being irritating on purpose. “Why didn’t you tell him I was coming over? It’s really quite rude. Then again, I can hardly expect you to be tactful.”

“And I can hardly expect you to not be a nuisance, Snowball,” Brain grumbled. 

Snowball just folded his arms, as if he were proud of that fact, and Brain scowled at him. Then Snowball turned to Pinky, who set the thimble down and began twisting his own ears in a vain yet valiant attempt to fly.

“So you’re Pinky,” Snowball said. There was a hint of disdain in his voice, but Brain assumed that was just because he wasn’t used to Pinky’s brand of idiocy yet. “I must admit, you aren’t quite what I expected.”

Pinky beamed. “Zort! Well, can’t say I was expecting you either. Brain’s told me so much about you! Won’t you come up for some tea? Oh, we can have our own tea party with Nicholas and Mr. Button! Hmm, maybe I should invite Madame Daisy too? Short notice, but I’m sure she’ll agree! She’s got the loveliest petals! I don’t think you’ve met her either, Brain. But this would be a good time to introduce you! And oh, you’ve never tried my no-bake cheesecake, have you? It’s very easy to make!”

“Before you run off with your inane ideas, throw something down so Snowball and I can get up there!” Brain shouted.

Saluting eagerly, Pinky scampered out of view, then brought back a pencil and threw it off the windowsill. The pencil landed a few inches away from Brain and Snowball. Unimpressed, Brain glared up at Pinky, who smiled bashfully and tried again.

“A rope or cord would suffice,” Brain sighed just as Pinky was about to throw a paper clip to them.

To Snowball’s credit, he showed little reaction to Pinky’s bizarre logic and casually studied his claws instead. 

This time, Pinky tied a long, thick strand of yarn to the window latch and let it fall to the ground. Brain climbed up first, allowing Pinky to pull him onto the windowsill.

“About time,” Brain muttered.

Snowball pulled the yarn to check its tensile strength, but didn’t climb up. “Ah, I just remembered something,” he said, in a manner that suggested he didn’t forget at all and was just being dramatic. He disappeared into the bushes for a moment, then dragged out a large blue cap. It had been well-hidden among the leaves. Snowball took his end of the yarn and tied it around a hole in the back of the cap, one end of his lips quirked in a smug smile.

“Is that for me?” Pinky pointed to the cap in disbelief, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He clasped his hands and swayed from side to side.  

It was the same cap from the electronics store. The one Pinky had earned through singing. It didn’t contain money anymore, though coins and dollar bills were considered valuable commodities on Terra and Brain would’ve been more surprised if they’d been left alone.

He never realized Pinky had left the cap behind.

“I thought you wanted that cap, Pinky,” Brain said. “Why leave it behind?”

“Well, I couldn’t chase after you and carry the cap at the same time,” Pinky shrugged, like it was no big deal that their trip to the mall had been for naught. “I didn’t wanna lose you. The mall’s a big place.”

Brain gritted his teeth. This was the second time Pinky had abandoned his goal in favor of helping someone else. He’d allowed the incident with the wallet a pass since Pinky wasn’t used to setting objectives yet, but he thought Pinky would’ve learned the second time.  

Even if it was for Brain’s benefit.

But Brain didn’t need help. He was a self-sufficient mos.

Once Snowball set foot on the ledge, Pinky immediately wrapped him in an enormous embrace and danced around with him while the poor aisam’s limbs flailed in a futile attempt to escape. “Thank you, Snowball! Thankyouthankyouthankyou! Narf!” Pinky squealed. “I will never forget this as long as I live!”

Brain pretended he was very, very focused on pulling the yarn until the cap was on the windowsill with them and ignored Snowball’s protests.

A bona fide Pinky hug was appropriate punishment for all the worry and stress Snowball had put him through for the past few days.

“Keep it up and you won’t have very long to live,” Snowball muttered once Pinky finally showed mercy and let him go.

Pinky just hummed and took the cap from Brain. “Everything’s perfect! Lemme set everything up for you!’ He skipped away, leaving Brain and Snowball alone.

“Snowball, you knew Pinky wanted a specific object,” Brain said over the incessant sounds of Pinky persuading Mr. Button to join everyone for the tea party, and it was a statement of fact. It wasn’t necessary to ask a question when he already knew the answer. “And you obtained that particular cap.”

Snowball shrugged. “I see the malfunction hasn’t dulled your keen observation skills, Brain.”

“Which suggests you were in the area. Why use a camera to spy on us? Why not come out yourself?” Brain asked.

He hadn’t known if Snowball was alive or dead. He chose to believe Snowball was alive, because if he could survive the empty, vast desert of New Selene, then surely he could survive a crash landing.

The alternative was unthinkable.

And Snowball didn’t care enough to alert Brain that he was-

No, that was ridiculous. There were simply extra factors at play. Limited communication range. Injuries to prioritize. 

There were more variables to the equation. That’s all.

“Don’t you remember, Brain?” Snowball tapped Brain’s head with one finger. Brain scowled and shoved him off. “We planned to use the cameras to scope the area around our landing site for safety reasons. I simply stuck to the plan, though neither of us anticipated our unfortunate separation.”

Brain looked away. He refused to admit Snowball’s point. He was already smug enough as it was. “You could’ve attached a message.”

“And allow a hostile party to intercept it? Communicate our intentions before we’re ready to carry out the plan? Come now, Brain. You’ve engineered a marvelous ship out of scrap. You shouldn’t let a freak accident scramble your neurons.”

Brain bristled at the insinuation of his intelligence dropping as a result of the accident. He’d only been temporarily disoriented.

A harsh scraping noise interrupted him before he could retort. On the other side of the counter, Pinky arranged six tiny stools around an upside-down bowl. Then he seated Nicholas the Nickel, Mr. Button, and a potted specimen of Terran flora that Brain assumed to be Madame Daisy. Pinky’s blue eyes sparkled with joy, a frilly white apron tied around his waist. He was completely oblivious to the tense atmosphere between Brain and Snowball.

“Hello, narf! So glad you could make it to the tea party!” Pinky exclaimed, shaking Brain’s hand vigorously. Brain had to clamp down on his arm to stop the shaking as Pinky subjected Snowball to the same treatment. “Don’t be shy now, I’ve got some lovely neighbors to introduce you to!”

Too stunned to speak, Brain and Snowball took their seats on the wooden stools. Nicholas—and celestial bodies above, now he was personifying inanimate objects like Pinky—was lying on top of the stool to his right, while Madame Daisy was on his left. Snowball was trying to compose himself on the other side of Madame Daisy, but he couldn’t hide the annoyed tapping of his claws against the bowl. Brain assumed the empty stool between Mr. Button and Nicholas was meant for Pinky, unless he planned to invite more ‘guests’. 

And Brain hoped there weren’t more. It was crowded enough already, even if only two beings at this table could stage an intelligent conversation.

He was mildly concerned at Pinky’s mental state. Surely naming inanimate objects couldn’t be conducive to one’s well-being.

“Nicholas and Mr. Button, I’m sure you already know Brain,” Pinky grinned. 

“We’re acquainted,” Brain muttered. “Unfortunately.” 

Pinky gleefully clapped his hands together. “Troz! Great, then you can help introduce them to Snowball! And Madame Daisy, did you do something with your leaves? They look so green and perky! Oh really, you think I could pull off Daisy Dukes? Stop that, you’re making me blush! Though I guess I do have the legs for it…”

He giggled, his cheeks coated in a light red blush.

“Yes, Brain. Why don’t you introduce me to your Terran friends?” Snowball grinned, casually leaning one elbow against the table.

“Fine,” Brain spat. “Nicholas. Mr. Button. This is Snowball. I believe you’ll find him particularly irksome.”

“Oh please, they already know you,” Snowball rolled his eyes.

“Madame Daisy, why don’t you tell them all the gossip you heard from the birds and the bees and flowers and the trees?” Pinky asked, kissing one of Madame Daisy’s leaves. “Now, now, Nicholas and Mr. Button, don’t fight in front of our visitors. Everything’s ready in the kitchen. I’ll bring it out to everyone in a jiffy! Brain, I’ll get you a hot thimble. Your last one’s all cold. Snowball, did you want anything extra with your tea?”

Snowball sighed. “A pinch of sanity, perhaps..”

“Double for me,” Brain added.

Pinky tilted his head. “Hmmm, I dunno if I have that brand, but I’ll look! Be right back!” 

“And I require my beverages either cold or room temperature,” Snowball added. “My species can’t have hot food or drink.”  

Pinky nodded eagerly. “One cold tea and five warm, coming up!” He skipped away, humming an upbeat tune under his breath. 

And Brain was once again alone with Snowball. Unlike Pinky, he refused to count the inanimate objects as sentient creatures. 

Pinky was an idiot at the best of times and a distraction at the worst. But he prioritized Brain over the hat he desired so badly. 

An action Brain dared to describe as...sweet. 

Then Snowball coughed, breaking the silence and Brain’s momentary lapse into sentimentality. “By any chance, have your broadcasts reached your target demographic?” Snowball asked, drumming his fingers on the makeshift table. “I’d hate for all that time you spent communicating our intentions with less than stellar technology to go to waste.” 

From the way Snowball’s lip curled at the very mention of the radio broadcasts, Brain knew he wasn’t asking out of courtesy. Most likely, he’d figured out that nobody on this planet except for one incredibly stupid specimen had heard Brain’s long distance communications. 

Nobody recognized the Conquistador, despite Brain giving detailed descriptions about his engineering pride and joy. He’d failed to garner the attention of the media when Terra was in a period of rapidly advancing technology. 

And most damning of all, no human had come to sing his praises, genuflect on bended knee, or bothered to host a welcome parade in his honor. They showed no concern that their new ruler had crash landed instead of making a grand and powerful entrance. 

But the sun would have to burn through the rest of its lifespan before Brain would ever admit it. 

“Your silence is answer enough, Brain.” Snowball shook his head in disappointment. “And here I’d hoped most of our work would be finished upon arrival. Sadly, it appears nobody listened to-” 

“Pinky listened,” Brain interrupted. 

Snowball gave him a look of mocking sympathy, and Brain pretended the engravings on Nicholas the Nickel were very intriguing. He hated that look. 

“Allow me to rephrase,” Snowball said. “It must be upsetting to find that nobody of importance listened to your broadcasts.” 

Pinky bandaged his injuries, tried to help locate Snowball in his own ridiculous way, and introduced him to the wonders of cream cheese. 

Those weren’t unimportant things. 

But at the same time, Pinky didn’t have the influence to help him ascend to the throne. 

“Cut to the point, Snowball,” Brain snapped. “Spare me the monologue.” 

Snowball shrugged. “Then tell me our current location.” 

“Read the sign yourself,” Brain retorted. Did Snowball believe he was so disoriented he couldn’t tell where he was? “It’s just above the front door. You can’t possibly miss it, unless you’ve somehow become illiterate during our period of separation.”

“Humor me.” 

Brain gritted his teeth. “A primitive Terran laboratory known as ACME. I haven’t discovered what the acronym stands for.” 

“Never mind the acronym.” Snowball dismissed the tangent with a flick of his hand. “As you observed, this is a laboratory. And do you know what they specialize in?” 

“I can do without the condescension,” Brain muttered.   

“Behavioral studies and genetics,” Snowball said as if Brain had answered properly. “Why else would that idiotic Terran be here? He’s the equivalent of a mos on New Selene. Approximately the same niche on the food chain and social hierarchy. Higher than parasites and bottom feeders, but not by much.” 

Well, Pinky had shown him the gene splicer which doubled as a bagel warmer. It wasn’t that much of a surprise. 

And it was a scientific wonder, even for a less advanced piece of machinery. But he had the suspicion that bagels weren’t the only things to go through that device. 

“Why bring Pinky into this?” Brain asked. 

“I’m only speaking out of concern for my associate,” Snowball replied. He stood up, kicking Madame Daisy’s stool out of the way as he marched over to Brain. The flower slid off the stool and fluttered to the floor. “Isn’t this setup enough proof for you, Brain? Having a useless tea party, surrounded by toys and drivel...why, if you’re not careful, you might end up just like...him.”

The him was spoken with such vehemence, it took Brain aback. 

Brain leaned away from Snowball, a shiver traveling up his spine. It wasn’t the usual chill he got from Snowball’s natural physiology. 

“I won’t end up like Pinky,” Brain said, as firmly as he could, which wasn’t as firm as he would’ve liked. “I’m his intellectual superior.”  

“Then act like it.” 

A claw jabbed the center of Brain’s chest. The jumpsuit’s insulation did nothing to protect him from the fine, icy tendrils that threatened to choke his heart. 

Snowball stood over him, narrow pink eyes boring into his own. Then Snowball went back to his own seat, scoffing at the flower which laid lifelessly near its stool. 

If it weren’t for the simple fact that Madame Daisy wasn’t sentient, Brain might’ve felt sorry for it.  Then he mentally kicked himself for that notion.

He was an intelligent being. Plants don’t talk or have feelings. 

Snowball was watching him. So Brain remained in his seat. 

Then Pinky came back, oblivious to what transpired among his guests while he was away. There was a skip in his step as he balanced three trays, one in each hand and the third resting on his head. His balance and upper strength were impeccable. 

“Narf! Sorry for the delay!” Pinky chirped as he set the trays on the bowl and passed the thimbles around, taking great care to ensure the cold tea went to Snowball. “I was looking for sanity, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. Not among the spices, the cupboards, or in that moldy ham sandwich they keep forgetting to toss out. So I just stirred in a spoonful of honey with a generous sprinkling of lemon for...oh, Madame Daisy! Are you alright?” 

Pinky quickly set the last thimble at his place and rushed over to Madame Daisy, gently cradling the stem in his hands as he set her on the stool. He waited a moment, then wiped his brow in relief. “Phew, I’m glad to hear it! Anyway, drink up! I’ll join you lovely folks after I grab the cheesecake.” 

Brain sniffed his tea as Pinky took the trays and ran back to wherever he came from. The thimble was pleasantly warm under Brain’s fingers, a scented trail of steam rising from the golden liquid inside. It was an oddly relaxing scent. 

He picked up the thimble and took a tiny sip of his drink. And once again, Pinky had shown that he was full of surprises. The tea was warm, yet not scalding. Slightly sour, with a tinge of sweetness.

Snowball was entirely focused on his own drink. He didn’t give any outward signs of enjoying or disliking it though. Just as always, he was poised and controlled. Every movement calculated, no thought wasted. 

Brain tried to replicate that level of control many times. But he’d never been able to figure out how to stop his ears from giving away his emotions. 

A few minutes later, Pinky returned with the promised cheesecake in tow. Once again, he balanced one tray in each hand and the other on his head, carefully setting them on the table without dropping a single plate. 

There were two plates on each tray, each one containing a triangular pile of cream cheese. There was a brown, crumbly coating on the back and underneath the cream cheese. A spiral of white fluff rested on top of the cheesecake, and within that fluff was a bright red fruit with tiny seeds dotting its surface. A tiny fork laid on the side of each plate. 

“Bon appetit!” Pinky grinned as he passed the plates of cheesecake around. Snowball gave Pinky a curt nod and accepted his plate. “I call it no-bake cheesecake! It’s a family recipe. My mom passed it down to me, and she got it from her mom, who got it from her mom, and she-well, you get the idea. What you’ve got there is cream cheese at room temperature, laid on a bed of crushed graham crackers for that nice, crumbly texture. And I added a little whipped cream, topped with a juicy strawberry because everyone knows strawberries with cheesecake are absolutely delish!” 

Pinky set Brain’s plate down, fussed over Mr. Button, who was apparently not sitting properly on his stool. Then Pinky finally sat down at the table with everyone else and began to chow down. He scooped as much cream cheese as he could fit on his fork and jammed it into his mouth, humming in delight. 

Brain was struck with an odd urge to forgo the fork entirely and stuff his face with little regard for table manners or dignity. Logic and intellectualism didn’t hold a candle to the sheer heaven that was cream cheese. 

He could feel Snowball’s eyes on him though. 

And he forced himself to take small bites. 

Pinky talked about everything and nothing between mouthfuls of cheesecake and tea. While Brain’s mind was well-equipped to handle large floods of information, the topics Pinky pursued were completely beyond his understanding. Even Snowball’s impeccable control was being pushed to its limit, judging from the eye twitch he’d suddenly developed. 

“Troz! I’m sorry I never noticed your new polish, Nicholas! Very shiny!” Pinky smiled, his tail swishing happily behind him. “Mr. Button, have you tried vinegar and baking soda to get that stain out? No? Oh, well I use it all the time for my cage, and it really works. No problem! Egad, Madame Daisy, your son’s gonna marry the potted geranium? I always knew he had a thing for her!” 

Perhaps Snowball’s concerns about teaming up with Pinky weren’t completely unfounded. 

Brain was halfway through with his cheesecake when Snowball tapped his fork against his plate repeatedly, interrupting Pinky’s futile efforts to bring Brain into a conversation with Mr. Button. Brain sipped his tea to disguise his gratitude. He had no wish to debate philosophy with a button.   

“This has all been quite...enlightening,” Snowball said. He put his fork down and pushed his half-eaten cheesecake away. “But I didn’t make this trip just for a first meeting or reunion. Rather, I came with a purpose and opportunity in mind.”  

Of course. Snowball never did anything without purpose. 

But Brain found it hard to ignore the lack of general inquiries into his well-being. Even so, he pushed the rising bitterness down. If Snowball had found an opportunity to take over the world despite all the setbacks, then Brain was going to hear this out. 

“You went to the mall earlier today,” Snowball continued. Another statement of fact, not a question. 

“Yes, we did!” Pinky exclaimed. “We ate burgers and sang karaoke and played on a boat-” 

Snowball cleared his throat to stop Pinky before he strayed too far from the topic at hand. “The day before, I’d staked the mall as an area of interest due to its popularity among Terrans. While I wasn’t expecting to see you on my camera there, Brain, I decided to satisfy my curiosity and follow you. And during your excursion, you ran into a gentleman named Joe Lamont.”

“He was anything but gentle,” Brain muttered, recalling the cruel man’s shoe digging into his antennae and his total helplessness. And now he had the knowledge that Snowball bore witness to that incident. 

“And he was mean!” Pinky added. “The meaniest meanie who ever meaned!” 

Snowball’s eye twitched. “While Lamont’s actions were that of a brute, I assure you I did not mention him just to garner a reaction from you.” 

“So why mention him at all?” Brain snapped. 

“If I may continue without further disruption?” Snowball’s tone was carefully measured, barely concealing his impatience. “Now, I was able to guide the Conquistador’s front safely to the ground after the malfunction. From there, I sent many cameras to scout the area. Some to search for Brain, others to collect intel on the Terrans. And I noticed there was one figure in this city that everyone feared greatly. His vehicle is a common sight, given that at least five cameras I assigned to different areas had spotted him, and nobody dares to double-cross him.” 

“We’ve heard similar,” Brain said.

The worker who’d admonished him after the attack wasn’t the only one who was afraid of Lamont, it seemed. 

“Lamont is an influential figure,” Snowball continued. “So it’s prudent that we attend the elite party he’ll throw at his manor in two weeks.” 

Pinky’s hands flew to his cheeks. “A party?” he gasped. “Narrrrrf!” 

Brain glared at him. “Why would you ever want to attend a party thrown by this brute?” 

“But it’s a party, Brain!” Pinky protested. “It’ll be fun!” 

There was no way he was attending a party. The fact that it was thrown by that uncultured brute of a man was the least of his worries. 

No, instead he would be paraded around and meant to socialize…

He shuddered at the very thought. 

“Pinky, would you mind fetching the cap I gave you?” Snowball asked. 

Pinky immediately scampered off, still tittering about the party, and Brain nearly dragged him back by the tail to force him to stay put. 

“You may not be one for small talk, Brain,” Snowball said. “But several members of Lamont’s security detail mentioned that he possessed a powerful military weapon within range of my camera’s audio. Attending the party is necessary to gaining access to that weapon! Isn’t a little discomfort worth the world in the end?” 

He could put up with some momentary discomfort, but…

“And just what are you intending to do with that military weapon?” Brain asked. There was something in Snowball’s tone he didn’t like. 

Something foreign and out of place. 

“What else would I use it for other than world domination? And don’t speak so loud!” Snowball hissed, slapping a hand over Brain’s mouth and looking over his head to make sure Pinky wasn’t coming back just yet. “That idiot won’t keep his mouth shut if he knew. It’s imperative for you to not mention that weapon!” 

Brain wasn’t worried about Pinky blabbing. Instead, he got the feeling that Pinky would have something to say about using powerful weaponry to subjugate the populace. 

Not that he was wholly comfortable with this plot either. But a little discomfort now would be worth the world later. 

“Very well. We shall spend the next two weeks preparing for the party,” Brain said, pulling away from Snowball. “In addition to gathering more intel, of course.” 

Two minutes later, Pinky came back, dragging the cap behind him and bouncing with glee. “Oh, I can’t wait for the party! Say, do you think there’ll be a chocolate fountain? I love chocolate fountains! Especially when they make you all gooey!” 

Chocolate fountains didn’t sound particularly appealing when he put it that way.  

Snowball flipped the cap over, revealing a small card attached to the inside. Then he tore it off and handed it to Brain with a flourish of his hand. 

“Don’t show off,” Brain grumbled as he ripped it out of Snowball’s hand. Pinky read the card over his shoulder, growing more excited by the minute as he read the card. 

Dear Mr and Mrs Clarke,

RSVP by 4/27 to 707-231-0009

Masquerade Ball at Lamont Manor 

Event begins at 8:00 pm 

Present this card to security at front gate upon entry 

If Pinky was excited before, he was bouncing off the walls now. So the card contained all the information they needed to know. It wasn’t terribly exciting news. Just informative. 

“It’s a masquerade ball!” Pinky squealed. Brain tried to dodge, but Pinky was just too fast for him. His legs kicked feebly in the air as Pinky danced around in circles, towing Brain like a ragdoll. “We get to be extra fancy and wear masks and nobody will know who we are!” 

Well, that was one consolation if he got to hide behind a mask for this event. He broke out of Pinky’s hold, and took another bite of cheesecake to calm down. Having the creamy flavor in his mouth helped slightly. 

“I already have my alias and invitation. Who knows? You might find this experience rather educational,” Snowball explained. He moved over to the table and downed the last of his drink. “Well, this was an interesting night. I’d love to stay and indulge your need for company, but I’ll be taking my leave now. Data isn’t going to analyze itself.” 

He’s leaving already?

Snowball walked over to the window, preparing to climb down by using the yarn they’d left tied to the latch. 

“Wait!” Brain said, bits of cream cheese and strawberry spraying out of his mouth. His ears flattened in embarrassment as he hastily swallowed. “You can’t be leaving already!” 

The rusuprhi! In the light of all the information that had been thrust upon him, he’d completely forgotten to split the remaining bag with Snowball!

Snowball raised an eyebrow, and Brain cursed himself for sounding so desperate. 

“Pardon me for not wishing to be a slave to the dominant species again,” Snowball said. “And I’m far more efficient with my tasks when I’m alone. You want accurate intel, don’t you, Brain?” 

“Yes, although-” 

But Snowball was already gone. 

Again. 

Brain stood on the windowsill, clutching the card Snowball had left behind. New Selene hung in the sky above him, no bigger than his finger. The faraway stars twinkled. 

He didn’t want to be out here anymore. Slowly, he trudged to the bed in the cage, dropping the card and not caring what happened to it. Let Pinky take care of it since he was so eager for this party. 

He ignored Pinky asking if he was going to finish his food and pulled the blanket over himself, unable to summon the strength to thank Pinky for the excellent tea and cheesecake. 

Snowball had left again. And he didn’t know why. 

AN: Poor Brain. Starts the chapter sad, gets hopeful, then gets the rug yanked out from under him. 

Also since neither Brain nor Snowball are gonna say this, thank you Pinky for working so hard to be a good host for your tea party.  

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #172

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re making Rider of Resistance, a.k.a. a good reason as to why Type Moon should just... stop. Just stop, please, this is an intervention. As usual, expect spoilers below the cut, which is where you can find his build breakdown. Otherwise, check out his character sheet over here!

Next up: She’s a lumberjack, and she’s okay!

Christopher Columbus is a Gloom Stalker Ranger for a noble phantasm that lets him seek out whatever he desires as well as the smash and grab tactics the conquistadors are known for. He’s also a Swashbuckler Rogue to turn him into a high-seas swindler.

Race and Background

Cumulonimbus is a Human, but I want a feat so he’s a variant human instead. This gives him +1 Dexterity and Constitution, proficiency in Deception, and the Silver Tongued feat from unearthed arcana.This bumps your Charisma score up by 1, and you double your proficiency bonus when it comes to deception checks. You can also replace one of your weapon attacks with a contested skill check: your deception vs. their insight. If you succeed, you can move without provoking attacks from them, and your attacks have advantage against them until the end of your next turn. If you fail, they’re sick of your shit for an hour, and can’t be deceived in this way.

Unsurprisingly, Columbus is a Sailor, which gives him proficiency with Athletics and Persuasion. We’re changing things up a bit here, but you’ll need that silver tongue on longer voyages.

Ability Scores

Columbo’s highest stat is his Charisma; he’s a very clever leader, and an even more clever liar. Second is Wisdom, it’s like he can search things out using magic or something. If you’re going to survive a long ship voyage, your Constitution has to be solid as well. For your sealegs we’ll make your Dexterity better than average. That also helps with you running into fights wearing regular clothes. Your Strength isn’t that great, but we’re dumping Intelligence. We just don’t need it.

Class Levels

1. Ranger 1: Starting off as a ranger is cool, it gives you proficiency with Strength and Dexterity saves, as well as three ranger skills; Investigation for up close “treasure hunting”, and Perception to spot land just that little bit faster. You should also grab Stealth proficiency, it’ll make surviving in Chaldea a lot easier.

You would have gotten more skills by starting as a rogue, but starting here gives you extra health as well as Favored Enemies. Grab the two kinds of humanoids most akin to natives in your setting for advantage on survival and intelligence checks about them.

You’re also a Deft Explorer, which at level 1 makes you Canny with Deception checks, doubling your proficiency bonus. Take a shot every time I double your deception proficiency. You’ll take 3 shots, but that’s exponential, so it adds up quick. It’s still level 1, and you’ve got a +11 to deception, that’s pretty damn good.

2. Ranger 2: Second level rangers can get the Mariner fighting style, adding 1 to your AC while out of heavy armor, and giving you a swimming speed so getting knocked overboard isn’t a game over.

You can also cast Spells now using your Wisdom to cast them. Hunter’s Mark is a gimme since we’re not taking Favored Foe, but we’re also dipping into a third Unearthed Arcana for Wild Cunning, a ritual spell that gives you one of several effects. There’s a lot, but they mostly boil down to finding stuff important to survival more easily.

3. Ranger 3: As a Gloom Stalker ranger, you know the benefits of getting the drop on people better than anyone. Your Dread Ambusher takes the chillage out of your pillage by adding your wisdom modifier to your initiative rolls. Also on your first turn you get an extra 10′ of movement, you get an extra weapon attack, and that extra attack deals more damage. The conquistadors weren’t called the conquistadors because they were bad at conquisting.

You also get Umbral Sight thanks to all those nights of watching for the shore, making your dumb human eyes less dumb thanks to Darkvision. On top of seeing in the dark, you also count as invisible to any other creatures that rely on darkvision while in the shadows. Chris doesn’t have his own evade to be fair, but honestly with all the races having darkvision humans get screwed over so much that I’m willing to overlook it this time.

For this level’s spells, Hail of Thorns will give you some light weapons fire from your trusty ship. You also get Disguise Self for free from being a gloom stalker. It’s not in character, but again it’s free, and god knows you’d put it to good use.

4. Ranger 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to grab the Piercer feat, rounding up your dexterity for a bigger modifier and the ability to re-roll one die of piercing damage per turn. Also, your piercing crits deal an extra die of damage when they hit now!

5. Ranger 5: Fifth level rangers get an Extra Attack each attack action. You can still only use a crossbow once per turn, but you’ve got a sword, I’m not worried.

You also get second level spells! Locate Object is what we’re here for, but you also learn Rope Trick for free. Camping equipment was nice, but it’s time we set out for real treasure.

6. Rogue 1: Bouncing over to rogue gives you proficiency with Sleight of Hand, so you can finally get those darn eggs to stand straight. I don’t know why they made a Portuguese man obsessed with a Chinese myth, but whatever.

You also get Expertise in two skills, Perception will help you spot land faster, and Deception is basically just a meme at this point. Both of them get their proficiency bonus doubled. If you really wanted a crazy modifier out the gate you could’ve done this at second level for a +19 to deception, but instead you get it here for a +27. At this point you could totally lead someone on for the entirety of a pseudosingularity and not break a sweat! Not that you would, obviously.

You can also Sneak Attack with ranged/finesse weapons (hey, look at your arsenal, what a coincidence) to deal an extra 1d6 damage to creatures that are next to allies or that you have advantage over. As the men of Agartha could say, you don’t fight fair.

Also: Thieves’ Cant. It’s a language.

7. Rogue 2: Second level rogues get Cunning Action, so now you can dash, disengage, or hide as an action. You’re always moving forward. And sometimes, “forward” means “as far away from the people you’ve conned as possible”.

8. Rogue 3: Is making a sailor a Swashbuckler stereotypical? Probably. Either way your Fancy Footwork means you can ignore attacks of opportunity from creatures you’ve made a melee attack against, and your Rakish Audacity adds your charisma modifier to your initiative rolls. So now your initiative can be added to your growing list of character traits with silly modifiers thanks to its +8. Also, you can sneak attack against creatures when you’re dueling them.

Also also, your sneak attack is 2d6 now.

9. Rogue 4: Use this ASI to bump up your Dexterity for more accurate attacks and less accurate attacks against you.

10. Rogue 5: Use your Uncanny Dodge to get those sea legs working, dodging well enough as a reaction to avoid half the damage from an attack. And your attacks are scarier now, thanks to a 3d6 sneak attack!

11. Rogue 6: Use this round of Expertise to double up on Persuasion to figure how where people keep their valuables and Sleight of Hand to slip them into your pockets while no one’s looking.

12. Rogue 7: Admittedly, Chrissy Boy doesn’t have an evade skill, but he does get Evasion anyway, making his failed dexterity saves deal half damage and successes deal 0. I mean his guts arguably does the same thing at low health, but now we’re quibbling.

Also, 4d6 on sneak attack.

13. Rogue 8: We’ll go back to ranger soon, but first grab another ASI to bump up your Wisdom, speeding up your initiative and making your spells a bit stronger.

14. Ranger 6: It’s been a while, huh? You get another two humanoids to add to your Favored Enemies so you can terrorize a wider swath of natives, as well as Roving from the Deft Explorer goodiebag to speed yourself up and swim no matter what you’re wearing.

15. Ranger 7: Seventh level Gloom Stalkers have an Iron Mind, helping you keep your head on straight even during long voyages. Or against wisdom saves. Honestly the latter’s way more common, let’s go with wisdom saves. You have proficiency now, is what I’m saying.

We’ve also been seriously neglecting your magical damage, so pick up Magic Weapon so you aren’t mostly useless against a demon.

16. Ranger 8: Use this ASI to bump up your Dexterity one more time for better guns and AC. You can also use Martial Versatility to swap out your Mariner fighting style since it overlaps with roving, but I like it where it is. To be fair you could also make Columbus a Triton barbarian, but then he wouldn’t be Columbus.

You also learn Land’s Stride, which lets you ignore nonmagical difficult terrain, and you have advantage against magical difficult terrain like the one caused by Entangle.

17. Ranger 9: Ninth level rangers get third level spells like Conjure Barrage, which lets you conjure... a barrage. Like Hail of Thorns, this is basically your cannons firing off in the background. You also learn Fear for free. That smile is pretty creepy, after all.

18. Rogue 9: Ninth level swashbucklers get another feature, Panache, letting you make a persuasion check against a creature’s insight as an action. If they’re friendly, they become charmed. If they’re unfriendly, they have disadvantage on other creatures, and can’t make opportunity attacks against other creatures.

Personally I like Silver Tongued’s version better for combat, but the added utility is nice. Also, 5d6 sneak attack. That’s important.

19. Rogue 10: Grab the Tough feat with your last ASI for an extra 38 HP now and two more at level 20. You’ve survived at sea for over a month without getting mutinied, and you’ve got guts. Literally.

20. Rogue 11: Eleventh level rogues get 6d6 sneak attack as well as Reliable Talent, meaning you can’t roll lower than a 10 when using skills you’re proficient with. This means you’re guaranteed to roll at least a 16 on Athletics, a 25 on Persuasion, and a 61 on Deception.

Pros:

You are really good at deception. Like, ridiculously good. Like, literally can’t fail good. A minimum roll of over 60, in a game where DC 30 “nearly impossible”, is dumb. Especially since you can weaponize that check thanks to your UA feat.

Speaking of, if you’re willing to only make 1.5 attacks a turn instead of 2, you’ve basically got guaranteed advantage thanks to that feat.  That’s really useful when it comes to setting up your sneak attacks.

You’re also pretty tanky, with almost 200 HP and most of the rogue’s abilities to avoid damage. You don’t have your own healing, but I’m sure you can talk Medea into helping out.

Cons:

Your casting modifier is only a +3, so your spells aren’t as strong as they could be. Most of them don’t use your modifier at all, but expect your cannons to be a bit lackluster.

You will never need to roll a 61 on deception. You could have used that Canny on another skill to make two skills busted, but when you gotta flex you gotta flex.

You are playing Christopher Columbus.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Lionheart Party

In straight white slacks, the dark green Cassell blazer and a button up shirt tucked in neatly, Tigre couldn’t have looked more preppy. His dark hair was slicked back in a flamboyant green bow that highlighted his aqua eyes. He smiled and greeted Lionheart members courteously as instructed by Celeste.

“Look them in the eyes, smile warmly and shake their arms firmly. Maybe pat their shoulders as they pass through the door but not too hard and not too soft, like a caress. Less with the ladies. Just a smile will suffice. Thank them for coming and direct them straight to the wine.”

“Really? The wine?” Tigre said, startled. 

“Yes.” Celeste grinned.

“Welcome! Thank you for coming!” Tigre said, shaking the hand of a guest and patting his shoulder as he walked inside. “The wine is on the bar to your left!”

Celeste didn’t bother even announcing the party campus wide. She was only interested in entertaining Lionheart members. He was the S-ranked student, but she was the host. She hung him outside the door like a decoration. Her first accomplishment here.

Word of the unorthodox living accommodations spread like wildfire around the campus but Tigre said he was fine with it. The girls were helping him tremendously and he didn’t care much for the rumors. He was excited that he was on his way to becoming a dragon-like person, just like his ancestors. 

The Lionheart men weren’t interested in him anyway. 

As he shook the hand of one tall blue-eyed man with the looks of a male model, he drew Tigre in for a surprise hug and asked, “So which sister is yours huh?”

Tigre laughed awkwardly, recalling the conversation in the car. The whole reason they liked him is because he didn’t demand their attention. “I uh… will let them decide that. It’s their choice.”

The man threw back his head and laughed. “Smart! I like you!”

“The wine is that way.”

The svelte handsome man winked and went that way, but he took his hand and dragged him inside. 

Tigre dug in his heels and trie to delay. “Wait, I’m supposed to... “

“Hey my buddy bought cookies. You should try them.”

Celeste stood like a bold centerpiece in the dorm, speaking to the three of them with a flute of champagne. She spoke in short clips, smiling in a floor length white satin dress, gesturing her dark arms and shoulders. Her neck glittered with a diamond on a thin gold chain. Her hair was done up in a braided crown.

Ruby was helping to serve the drinks and keeping everything stocked up. She had been talking to a man with dark skin and black eyes with straight hair held back with enough gel to make it stick together in lumps, when she suddenly broke eye contact with him and caught eye contact with Tigre. Her expression caught the attention of her suitor who followed her gaze back to him. As soon as he saw the Cassell S-rank watching them, he backed away, hands up in innocence and wandered off in defeat.

Ruby mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

Porsche was laughing on the couch in a green dress that was cut all the way up to her knees, leaving her leg completely bare as she crossed one over the other. The two guys on either side of her couldn’t seem to keep their eyes on her face, she wiggled her heeled shoe a bit and smirked when they looked before continuing her conversation about the wonders of her home country of Tanzania.

Tigre lowered his eyes a bit. They were having so much fun. He should do or say something, but nothing comes to mind. What they were doing was none of his business. They wanted to be friendly with all these people because they wanted to lead the club so it was important to show off in the meet and greet. He couldn’t hold a conversation like they could. If he tried to chat, he might ruin things. 

He nodded to himself that, for now, it was fine to hang out. When he reached the bar, he turned around and looked into a pair of beautiful dark eyes with a pale face. 

“Hey there.” Her skin reminded him of Celeste’s satin dress, smooth and shining in the light. He was supposed to welcome and smile and lead to the wine and that was all, but he found himself suddenly tongue tied. 

“I’m Veronica. A pleasure to meet you.” She held out her hand, palm down, displaying her painted red nails that matched her elegant straight gown.

“Hi…” Tigre looked at her hand. He wasn’t supposed to shake hands with them, right? Her hand wasn’t in the right position to shake anyway. His arm twitched, not sure what to do.

Veronica’s smile vanished and her expression darkened as she lowered her hand, but she smiled again, recovering. “This is the party right?”

“Yes. The wine is right over there.” Tigre said, happy to get back on script.

“I’m not interested in wine. I don’t drink.” She said, “And I know. I’ve been standing here for ten minutes.” She was standing over a tray of cookies. “Want to try some?”

“Sure!”

Veronica smiled and stepped next to him. “Mind if I keep you company?”

“Not at all!” Tigre said. He felt a sense of relief not to be by himself any more. The cookies were good, sweet, warm and chocolatey. He reached for another.

The next person came up and Veronica stepped forward and shook his hand. 

“Veronica… fancy meeting you here.” The blonde man said.

“I’m a member of Lionheart now so…” She looked up at Tigre. “Tigre… is that your real name…?”

“It is.” Tigre nodded.

“Tigre, I’m Henry Everton. My parents are of an old dynasty in Poland that immigrated to the US during World War II and made money in the oil business.”

“Oh I see.” 

“Where is your family from?”

He almost said he didn’t know. But he did know. “Dragons!” he exclaimed confidently.

Everton wheezed for a second, trying to hold in his mouth full of wine, and then laughed. “Wow. That’s what it all comes down to right?”

Veronica nodded. “That’s why we’re all here. Cassell attracts the highest purity hybrids from all over the world. Tigre knows why we’re here as well. According to the registry, he majored in martial arts.”

“Oh really? You might as well so long as you have the physique and energy for it. I personally can’t handle getting into too many fights. But you look like you’ve been in a few yourself.”

Tigre self-consciously bit into another cookie. “I have.”

He felt a sudden sense of relief. He seemed comfortable just standing at the bar and holding a conversation.

“OH you know who has your same major? Alex.” He turned and shouted.  “Hey Alex!”

Alex looked to be about 6 foot 50 and about as wide. He lumbers across the living room and towers over Tigre like a goliath. Tigre didn’t remember this guy coming in. Wait…

He turned to the door. People were just walking in! He’d left his post and people were just flowing in like crazy!

Celeste was staring at him, with angry black eyes.

Panicked, Tigre looked up at Alex who stared down at him like he could pound him completely through the floor.

“Yeah I think he’s in like all your classes this is awesome! You guys should exchange numbers.” Everton beamed and slapped Alex on the bottom before going to greet the people coming in.

“Ah sure…” Tigre pulled out his phone that he got from Toyama and tried to remember how to add a contact. After a few awkward seconds he gave up. “Can I… just give you my number?”

Ruby has gone to the door for crowd control but she isn’t nearly the presence that Tigre apparently was. Soon, she’s surrounded and fielding awkward questions from guys who looked like they were drunk already. There must have been another party somewhere and maybe it had ended? Or were people here just drunk all the time?

Porsche wasn’t going to help her sister, she was busy taking selfies on the couch, holding out her phone and making a victory sign with her fingers. “Okay now give me all your numbers.” She commanded. All the guys were happy to comply.

Tigre finally got the number to Alex the Giant, who apparently was in all his classes.

He grumbled. “I look forward to seeing you in battlefield training.”

“Right…” He whispered. “S...same here.”

Tigre turned to the bar where three guys were filling the cups of the people in line. One man had a cup in each hand and spilled a bit on the floor as he walked back to the door to give beer to people as they were coming in.

He was so distracted he didn’t realize Veronica was talking to him. “As part of my study, I was tasked with researching S-ranks like Principal Anjou and Lu Mingfei. They seem very ordinary on the surface, but their minds are anything but ordinary. They’re not overly obsessed with anything in this world. Anjou appreciates good things in the world but can hardly enjoy them because this is not his world. Lu Mingfei seems to feel the same way. No matter how much he attains in power or status, he’s not truly interested in it. So it didn’t surprise me at all to see you outside the party on your own. This is exactly how S-rankers act.”

“I… I guess?” He stammered. He turned and caught sight of Porsche who was in a full blown make out session with one of the men on the couch. They way his  hand moved up her body and over her shoulders and then over her hair and…

Someone knocked into him and apologized. “Oh wait!” He looked up at him wide eyed. “You’re the S-ranker. That’s awesome! So are you half lizard or something? I hear you guys turn into dragons when you’re really pissed off.”

“I… don’t think so?”

The man shoved a beer into his hand. “Here bottoms up. I want to talk to you and hear your story. Are you from a whole family of dragonslayers?”

“No..”

“Really? Where are you from?”

“Mexico… I…”

“Mexico? I haven’t heard a lot about dragons there but you know what? I had a sister who did a whole report on the legend of Quetzocoatl… I wonder if you have some sort of Dragon Lineage from that, but it’s also possible that Hybrids came from the Conquistadores. I mean, it’s possible that Cortez and Montezuma were hybrids… or maybe even Dragons!”

Tigre couldn’t walk without bumping into someone. The whole place smelled like alcohol. The music was suddenly extremely loud and people were bouncing in the living room. This was all his fault. He had one job. Celeste was going to kill him. 

The man ushered him onto a couch with two other people. He introduced them but he could barely hear over the noise. 

“By the way, I live downstairs down the hall. I heard the party going on and you know…”

“Wait, all these people live here?”

“Yes, like, I think three quarters of these people are your neighbors. How’d you get a pad like this? I mean dang, shackin’ up with the Smith girls? Lucky you.”

“They might kick me out after this…” He squeaked.

“No they won’t.”  This guy switched out his empty cup with a full one. “You’re kind of quiet…”

Tigre looked down at his cup and realized it was plastic and a shade of red. He didn’t remember these cups being in the bar area. “Where did this cup come from?”

“If you crash a party you bring your own booze. Common courtesy. So which one of those girls is yours?”

Tigre suddenly felt very dizzy and tired. “I don’t know. I don’t…”

“Oh come on, be honest… There’s one you got your eye on? I don’t want to step on any toes.”

“Porsche likes guys a lot. You should talk to her.” He kept trying to focus his eyes. People were laughing awfully loud.

“Excellent. By the way, Veronica is nice. You know if you don’t like chocolate.”

Tigre squinted at him and realized this was not the person who was talking about Mesoamerican mythology earlier. Someone else had sat next to him and he didn’t even realize it. He suddenly wondered if there was some sort of time skip and he’d been sitting here for a longer time than he realized.

It sank in that he was intoxicated. He didn’t drink that much. How could he feel this listless and out of it? He decided it was probably best to just stay on the couch and not move too much. He was afraid of falling because the room was tilting so bad.

Two freshman hooked up microphones and a beat started playing. They were speaking quickly at each other and insulting each other with quick words and phrases that somehow rhymed.  People cheered and goaded on the best rhyming phrases and much to his shock Celeste broke from the crowd and snatched the mic.

Her dress was slightly stained. “This is my party, this is my house, so listen up, Mama Celly gonna rap now. Yo all you fellas walkin’ like you wanna piece o’ me. But I’m not your baby girl who’s gonna go down easily! Disses just starting, Kiss and kowtow, I’m gonna take you ‘part as future Lady Lionheart!”

She wasn’t angry? She was having fun?

“Oh… good…”  Tigre slid down the couch, laid down and blacked out.

[fapangel]

help, how do I write, well... armoured infantry fighting eachother? like, everyone's decked to the nines, so now I have the problem of gunfights devolving into brawls as people run through mags.

Treat armor much like how it works in real life - incredibly valuable for buying you a second chance, but not nearly so impervious that you can just stand around getting blasted. I presume you’re having a problem where you apply this metric and it makes modern-day style firefights where cover is king grind on forever, right? Well, you might be surprised to know that many real-life firefights actually do work that way. This is why “fire and maneuver” is such a key component in modern ranged combat, and why flanking is as important in the modern day as it was in rank-and-file melee combat of the ancient world. When both sides are in cover (and they will be since if they’re not in cover to begin with they’ll get there fast,) and playing peekaboo with each other, many rounds will be expended for relatively little effect. To do damage, you have to literally flank the enemy - if he’s hiding behind a rock, you have to move around to his side, so you’re shooting at him from two directions, so both sides of his rock are threatened. 

Naturally, once your enemy is flanked in this fashion, they tend to retreat and regroup rather than stay in their compromised position and be swiftly annihilated. Compare this to B.H. Liddel Hart’s words, where he says that strategy “is not so much to seek battle as to seek a strategic situation so advantageous that if it does not of itself produce the decision, its continuation by a battle is sure to achieve this. In other words, dislocation is the aim of strategy...” 

Liddel Hart was describing strategy, but his observations apply equally well to tactics, even squad-level tactics, in modern warfare. Which, in itself, neatly shows you why insurgencies are so hard to combat - infantrymen with rifles are superb tools - in truth, the ONLY tool - for taking and holding ground, but forcing an enemy off the ground you want to hold is a lot easier than actually pinning them down and eliminating them. Thus the goal of insurgencies is to not actually hold any ground of their own, but stay ephemeral. 

Thus the integral relationship between fire and maneuver which you see military theorists constantly kicking around. All you need to keep in mind (a point said theorists often get too deep into the weeds to remember) is that applying firepower is the point of maneuver. You need 1. something to shoot and 2. a clear shot to your target in order to use it. If they’re in foxholes or a bunker, for example, that means getting close enough to use grenades. 

So to apply power armor to a firefight, we have to consider how it affects fire and maneuver. Now in the history of war there has always been a fluid relationship between armor and firepower, one that often changed rapidly as technology changed. Sometimes it’s the pre-dreadnaught era, where even the biggest nutcracking guns afloat couldn’t penetrate the crucial spaces of opposing battleships, and sometimes it’s the 1940s era, where body armor is mostly an afterthought as no practicably wearable technology can really oppose the weapons in use. But more often it’s been Conquistador-era, where people check for the “bullet proof” dent in the armor that proves it can stop a musket ball - or for that matter, a (lighter) crossbow bolt - but know there’s no option to protect the face or limbs, because they’ve already used up their weight allotment on the armor protecting their torso. 

One of the first things you have to decide about the technology in your story is, this relative relationship between offense and defense. Is one currently enjoying advantage over the other, or are they in a period where they’re relatively evenly matched? 

From there, account for the effects of (what I assume is) power armor. Powered suits not only let you carry more armor, but also more powerful weapons to punch THROUGH the armor of your enemies. They also allow you to move a lot faster, over much rougher terrain, as the infantrymen are freed from the limits of human strength. This boost in mobility is doubled by the reduction of firepower. The basic technique of fire-and-maneuver is covering fire; you pour fire onto the enemy so they have to stay behind their cover and can’t light up your troops as they move. Thus the concept of “effective fire;” you need to put enough rounds on your enemies that they are actually forced to duck, or if they are moving, force them to stop advancing and hug cover. If armor is stronger, then it takes more fire to be effective. This benefits everyone, of course, but I’m going to wager it helps troopers trying to maneuver relatively more, as the ones behind cover already have very good protection. The armor mostly protects against blast-frag; i.e. shrapnel. (Shrapnel is the primary killer of infantrymen because it spreads the “love” around. This is why things like tanks were historically hard to kill with artillery or airpower; blast-fragmentation compensated for the innate inaccuracy of unguided munitions. You either needed direct fire [like the 37mm gunpods Stuka’s used, or yes, the GAU-8 decades later,) or ‘spread’ munitions that could kill tanks, like napalm or armor-piercing bomblets.) The precision-guided munitions revolution has largely negated many ordinance distinctions born of blast-frag primacy; pretty much any weapon, even ones fired out of a rifleman’s underbarrel grenade launcher, can be precision guided and home in on a single target; even a single power-armored infantryman. So while power armored infantry in the real world, right now, would be very tough to kill because most standard artillery rounds couldn’t root them out, in a futuristic setting we can presume that they’re dropping self-guiding submunitions with micro-sized armor piercing warheads. Thus the real beneficiaries, comparatively, would be the guys maneuvering - not only are they faster, but they’re primarily threatened by hostile small arms, and with better armor, the same amount of firepower threatens them less. Overall mobility on the battlefield would be enhanced. 

That naturally leads to firefights happening at shorter ranges as both sides aggressively maneuver on each other, as neither sides fire will be effective at suppressing the other till they reach shorter ranges (mainly due to accuracy. The more rounds clustered tighter on target, the more likely they’re going to drop.) And both sides can reach close range faster. So fights will be shorter, faster, and more intense. 

Remember - it doesn’t HAVE to be this way. You can approach this from a question of “what kind of dynamic do I WANT?” and then simply write the tech in the story to support that. Remember what I said earlier about the struggle between firepower and armor through history - it can change fast - so it’s entirely plausible for your story to be happening at any point on that spectrum. Those pre-dreads I mentioned? Only 40 years later, in WWII, firepower had caught up so drastically that the guns of a cruiser could punch clean through the belt armor of a battleship under 15,000 yards or so. But that was suicidally close for a cruiser... because of the battleship’s own guns. Again, fire and maneuver. Or firepower, maneuver and armor, if you want to make it a triangle; each one has both offensive and defensive applications. The shape of that triangle dictates the blend of them that will be used to conduct warfare and in what fashion. So if you don’t have a specific, desired combat dynamic in mind for the story, it’s also good (and fun) to nail down what that triangle looks like FIRST, and then extrapolate from there to discover what it’d be like. It all depends on your priorities as a storyteller. 

A last note - everything I discussed above is an issue under serious consideration IRL as pertains to infantry. Body armor has gotten scary good, in the last few decades especially. The Army was first kicking around a 6.5mm round in the 90s and the topic is coming up for consideration more and more often, as well as alternatives like three round burst and such (remember the AN-94s clever super-fast doubletap? Ayep.) So you can read up on current IRL discussion on this topic to get ideas about how things might change and how armies will adapt. 

My discord is Demetrious#5963 and I’m on Rizon under Demetrious as well; hit me up if you wanna talk more on specifics or whatever~ 

[smokeybrand]

Smokey brand Movie Reviews: She Got Pants Now or Why Is All the Rum Gone

It’s the last day of July which means we have the last movie to be dropped under the Disney dual release strategy; Jungle Cruise. Now, i don’t know much about this flick outside of it being another one of these movies based on a ride from the parks. Apparently, the Jungle Cruise ride is pretty infamous because of the racism so I'm curious how this thing got the green light. Regardless, i love Emily Blunt and i usually enjoy The Rock, so why the f*ck not? I don’t have to leave my house, i have a computer with a 4K monitor, and a set of wireless earphones that kicks out Dolby quality sound. It ain’t the theater but since the black horse still rides, it’s a decent replacement for that sit in experience. Let’s go!

The Good

Disney did a great job of softening a lot of the more offensive aspects of the ride when they adapted it to film. I love what they did to Trader Sam because that motherf*cker was infuriating. Hopefully, they’ll give the ride, itself, an overhaul because this movie will go a long way to rehabbing that problematic as experience back as The Magical Kingdom.

Dwayne Johnson is as charismatic as ever. Dude has kind of settled into just playing himself over and over but that’s fine. He’s very good at playing himself and his Frank "Skipper" Wolff is one of the best versions of himself on film. The Rock doesn’t do anything to reinvent the wheel, but if you like what he does, you won’t be disappointfed.

Emily Bunt is as adorable as ever and really leans into what they gave her for Dr. Lily Houghton with gusto. I think the writing went a little too far to make her seem like the strongest woman ever but Blunt does her best to reel that unhinged zeal in a bit. Her character is witty, intelligent, and can throw a mean jab.

The draw of this film, the heart of it all, lies in the chemistry between The Rock and Blunt. Their scenes together feel natural as f*ck, like they’ve been doing this sh*t together for years. They've just settled a level of comfort between each other that you rarely see outside of old married couples. It’s cute to see and really helps keep you engaged when things stop being so engaging.

Paul Giamatti is in this. Weird.

Jungle Cruise is a pretty good looking film. They used every bit of that two hundred million dollar budget. Most of the time. The Amazon has a natural beauty that lends itself to the eye but it’s kind of it’s own, unique, thing. If you’re not accustomed to earth tones, you’re going to have a real hard time focusing on this flick.

The set pieces are nice. They can give some of the more elaborate Indiana Jones sequences a run for their money. Like, this is, maybe, Temple of Doom or Crystal Skull levels of stunt work. Probably more Crystal Skull because there is a ton of CG work. Like, s much. Like, TOO much.

I’m hearing a lot of people compare this to a female Indiana Jones or a Tomb Raider movie but it’s definitely not that. This is more akin to those campy Mummy films starring Brendan Fraser. Seriously, Frank is Rick, Lily is Evie, and they also share an effeminate brother character. It’s the same f*cking formula. The cursed Conquistadors can even double as mummy abominations.

Speaking of formulaic, this thing definitely started it’s life as a Pirates of the Caribbean script. If it didn’t, I'd be thoroughly surprised. That's not bad, mind you, just something i noticed about half way through. If it is, it would have made a great Jack Sparrow adventure. Jungle Cruise would have been one of the best Pirates film if it was to be made as one. I don't know what that means about the quality of the overall franchise but I said what I said.

Definitely a theater experience. I was fortunate enough to have the ability to approximate that with the media i have on hand at home, but i highly recommend seeing this in the multiplex. Only if you feel brave enough to engage with the wild public, though. Jungle Cruise is definitely built for that big screen presentation.

The Bad

The CG can be real bad a t times. Like, amateurish. I mentioned they used every bit of that budget before, right? Well a good chunk must have gone to the lead salaries because they definitely could have made another pass in Adobe After Effects. That sh*t get real obvious as time goes on. It's like that horse meme!

I also mentioned that Lily is f*cking superwoman and that's not handled with any semblance of nuance. She routinely makes men, just men, look like clowns. Now, I don't care about that type of stuff, it was entertaining and in service to the plot, but that calls into question the plot, I think. If your character can only be strengthened by weakening another, then you've written a poor character. However, most people won't see it like that and just get offended because of Lily is a f*cking Mary Sue. That offends the lesser males out in the interwbs and they'll f*cking tell you about. Loudly. From their mother's basements. With real tiny weenus energy. I hate that I have to constantly put this specific thing in the Bad section of my reviews because it never has to be. F*cking write better female characters, Hollywood! Goddamn!

The pacing is really uneven. There is about a thirty minute lull at the beginning of the second act. This sh*t stops in it’s tracks and, if not for Blunt and Johnson, you’d abandon this sh*t right here because there is still an hour of movie left after that. Yes, this thing is two hours long. No, it definitely didn't need to be that long. There is a lot of fat on this rind and it really bogs down the pace.

The plot is derivative of the genre. Like, you’ve seen this movie before and it’s not executed in any redefining way. Jungle Cruise is disposable in that way. Fun but inconsequential and ultimately, forgettable.

There is kind of a queer bait in this thing. It feels like Mickey wanted to really go for it but they refuse to go all the way. Still, what little of that queer sh*t we did get is worth noting, even if it should have much stronger.

I was bored at times. The movie, itself, isn’t boring, but being at home with sh*t that i can do to distract myself, it was hard not to just get on my phone when the thing starts to drag. Another reason to see this thing in theater; You’re a hostage audience. You have to watch what is presented or you get kicked out. Helps to keep you engaged when the film, itself, doesn’t seem like it even wants to be.

The Verdict

Jungle Cruise is a lot. It’s loud, frantic, thrilling at times, but an utter bore at others. It’s entertaining overall but there are definitely holes in the formula. I really enjoyed The Rock and Emily Blunt. They are excellent in their roles and the chemistry between them really drives this film, even when it’s sputtering to keep your attention. The thing is shot beautifully and does it’s best to circumvent the more problematic aspect of the ride which inspired it, Trader Sam getting that retool was brilliant, but falls short of rehabbing the more problematic aspects of this narrative. The writing is definitely groan inducing at times and the LBGTQ stuff is a mixed bag but the ridiculously heavy handed identify politics is the most glaring issue. I get it, she’s a strong woman that don’t need no man. Anything you can do she can do better. I understand, now stop beating that horse. It’s been dead for a long time. Just like this movie. Two hours is WAY too much time to tell this story. All in all, it’s an enjoyable diversion that should definitely be seen in a theater. I didn't hate Jungle Cruise and i think it is one of the better Disney Theme Park Ride movies but i won’t lose sleep if i never see it again.

[rockislandadultreads]

Check out these history books from our bottom shelf! All these titles need some love, so check them out today!

Summaries and Ratings from goodreads.com

Conquistador: Hernán Cortés, King Montezuma, and the Last Stand of the Aztecs by Buddy Levy

4.19/5 stars

It was a moment unique in human history, the face-to-face meeting between two men from civilizations a world apart. Only one would survive the encounter. In 1519, Hernán Cortés arrived on the shores of Mexico with a roughshod crew of adventurers and the intent to expand the Spanish empire. Along the way, this brash and roguish conquistador schemed to convert the native inhabitants to Catholicism and carry off a fortune in gold. That he saw nothing paradoxical in his intentions is one of the most remarkable—and tragic—aspects of this unforgettable story of conquest.

In Tenochtitlán, the famed City of Dreams, Cortés met his Aztec counterpart, Montezuma: king, divinity, ruler of fifteen million people, and commander of the most powerful military machine in the Americas. Yet in less than two years, Cortés defeated the entire Aztec nation in one of the most astonishing military campaigns ever waged. Sometimes outnumbered in battle thousands-to-one, Cortés repeatedly beat seemingly impossible odds. Buddy Levy meticulously researches the mix of cunning, courage, brutality, superstition, and finally disease that enabled Cortés and his men to survive.

Conquistador is the story of a lost kingdom—a complex and sophisticated civilization where floating gardens, immense wealth, and reverence for art stood side by side with bloodstained temples and gruesome rites of human sacrifice. It’s the story of Montezuma—proud, spiritual, enigmatic, and doomed to misunderstand the stranger he thought a god. Epic in scope, as entertaining as it is enlightening, Conquistador is history at its most riveting.

The Story of Tibet: Conversations with the Dalai Lama by Thomas Laird

4.18/5 stars

The Story of Tibet is a work of monumental importance, a fascinating journey through the land and history of Tibet, with His Holiness the Fourteenth Dalai Lama as guide. Over the course of three years, journalist Thomas Laird spent more than sixty hours with His Holiness the Dalai Lama in candid, one-on-one interviews that covered His Holiness’s beliefs on history, science, reincarnation, and his lifelong study of Buddhism. Traveling across great distances to offer vivid descriptions of Tibet’s greatest monasteries, Laird brings his meetings with His Holiness to life in a rich and vibrant historical narrative that outlines the essence of thousands of years of civilization, myth, and spirituality. His Holiness introduces us to Tibet’s greatest yogis and meditation masters, and explains how the institution of the Dalai Lama was founded. Embedded throughout this journey is His Holiness’s lessons on the larger roles religion and spirituality have played in Tibet’s story, reflecting the Dalai Lama’s belief that history should be examined not only conventionally but holistically. The Story of Tibet is His Holiness’s personal look at his country’s past as well as a summation of his life’s work as both spiritual and temporal leader of the Tibetan people.

Country of My Skull: Guilt, Sorrow, and the Limits of Forgiveness in the New South Africa by Antjie Krog

4.09/5 stars

Ever since Nelson Mandela dramatically walked out of prison in 1990 after twenty-seven years behind bars, South Africa has been undergoing a radical transformation. In one of the most miraculous events of the century, the oppressive system of apartheid was dismantled. Repressive laws mandating separation of the races were thrown out. The country, which had been carved into a crazy quilt that reserved the most prosperous areas for whites and the most desolate and backward for blacks, was reunited. The dreaded and dangerous security force, which for years had systematically tortured, spied upon, and harassed people of color and their white supporters, was dismantled. But how could this country--one of spectacular beauty and promise--come to terms with its ugly past? How could its people, whom the oppressive white government had pitted against one another, live side by side as friends and neighbors?

To begin the healing process, Nelson Mandela created the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, headed by the renowned cleric Archbishop Desmond Tutu. Established in 1995, the commission faced the awesome task of hearing the testimony of the victims of apartheid as well as the oppressors. Amnesty was granted to those who offered a full confession of any crimes associated with apartheid. Since the commission began its work, it has been the central player in a drama that has riveted the country. In this book, Antjie Krog, a South African journalist and poet who has covered the work of the commission, recounts the drama, the horrors, the wrenching personal stories of the victims and their families. Through the testimonies of victims of abuse and violence, from the appearance of Winnie Mandela to former South African president P. W. Botha's extraordinary courthouse press conference, this award-winning poet leads us on an amazing journey.

Highway to Hell: Dispatches from a Mercenary in Iraq by John Geddes

3.62/5 stars

Present-day Iraq: a crucible of torture, chemical warfare and Islamic terrorism, and straddling over it all the mighty US Army and its allies; but there's another western army in Iraq that dwarfs the British contingent and is second only in size to the US Army itself.

It's a disparate and anarchic multi-national force of men gathered from twenty or more countries numbering some 30,000. It's a mercenary army of men and a few women with guns for hire earning an average of $1,000 dollars a day. They are in Iraq to provide security for the businessmen, surveyors, building contractors, oil experts, aid workers and, of course, the TV crews who have flocked to the country to pick over the carcass of Saddam's regime and help the country re-build.

Not since the days when the East India Company used soldiers of fortune to depose fabulously wealthy Maharajas and conquer India for Great Britain, and mercenaries fought George Washington's Continental Army for King George, has such a large and lethal independent fighting force been assembled. Once upon a time such men were called freelances, mercenaries, soldiers of fortune or dogs of war, but today they go under a different name: private military contractors. There's a far more fundamental sea change, too, as women have joined their ranks in significant numbers for the first time, bringing a new and interesting dynamic into the equation.

In Iraq today the majority of their number are men who come from 'real deal' Special Forces units or former soldiers from regular units and regiments; all of them know what they're about and rub shoulders together more or less comfortably with at least a shared understanding of basic military requirements.

One such man is John Geddes, ex-SAS warrant officer and veteran of a fistful of hard wars who became a member of the private army in Iraq for the eighteen months immediately following George W. Bush's declaration of the end of hostilities in early May 2003. Now, for the first time, John Geddes will reveal the inside story of this extraordinary private army and the private war they are still fighting with the insurgents in Iraq.

Please Enjoy Your Happiness by Paul Brinkley-Rogers

3.56/5 stars

Please Enjoy Your Happiness is a beautifully written coming-of-age memoir based on the English author's summer-long love affair with a remarkable older Japanese woman.

Whilst serving as a seaman at the age of nineteen, Brinkley-Rogers met Kaji Yukiko, a sophisticated, highly intellectual Japanese woman, who was on the run from her vicious gangster boyfriend, a member of Japan's brutal crime syndicate the yakuza. Trying to create a perfect experience of purity, she took him under her wing, sharing their love of poetry, cinema and music and many an afternoon at the Mozart Café.

Brinkley-Rogers, now in his seventies, re-reads Yukiko's letters and finally recognizes her as the love of his life, receiving at last the gifts she tried to bestow on him. Reaching across time and continents, Brinkley-Rogers shows us how to reclaim a lost love, inviting us all to celebrate those loves of our lives that never do end.

A Thousand Hills: Rwanda's Rebirth and the Man Who Dreamed It by Stephen Kinzer

4.19/5 stars 

A Thousand Hills: Rwanda's Rebirth and the Man Who Dreamed It is the story of Paul Kagame, a refugee who, after a generation of exile, found his way home. Learn about President Kagame, who strives to make Rwanda the first middle-income country in Africa, in a single generation. In this adventurous tale, learn about Kagame's early fascination with Che Guevara and James Bond, his years as an intelligence agent, his training in Cuba and the United States, the way he built his secret rebel army, his bloody rebellion, and his outsized ambitions for Rwanda.

[hecohansen31]

Just Ride (Chapter 1)

A/N: Hello there, friends!

I have started too many series for my own good (and right when I am having finals, so bear with me my lack of presence her; also again not in the best mood, but I honestly wanted to write this so so much so here I come!

I want to start with thanking @sojournmichael with whom I have been talking about this concept and she is absolutely the sweetest person ever (and most caring and she is a truly angel and I can’t believe that people like her exist because she is everything you need during a bad day, completed with wonderful wrting skills!). So if you liked this, please give her account a check out, since there are a few more headcanons about this concept here (and they are better written than the ones here!).

This concept starts from the fact that my family is very into  MOTO GP (not me), but I was forced to watch a race once and I immediately saw all this very young bikers and my heart immediately went to Jim and I had to write something about him!

Also I am not a professional about this so ignore all the technical mistakes (I will try for the next chapter to do better, thanks to my sister knowledge, the true MOTO GP stan, so if you find something that doesn’t match, let me know and I will do better) (Also Eva: sister said that they have teams, but as in the bikers have like maximum two other bikers in their stable).

Also (P/N) stands professor name!

SUMMARY: Your life as a mechanic of an excellent MOTO GP stable is hard enough, but what you didn’t know is that having Jim Mason as your professional biker makes it all much more difficult... but isn’t the challenge what makes everything better?

WORDS: 3,1 K.

WARNING: None (except Jim being a little asshole, but I love you all the same, babe) (also bad MOTO GP knowledge should be counted as a warning?).

She had stumbled into professional biking thank to what looked like a quick way to make money right after she had finished her engineering degree, with the highest of grades and the congratulations of all her professors.

Which made her believe that would be out and aloud in some secret astronautic project, somehow, thinking about how that was the only name to make her name known.

Instead she found herself in a male only setting, not only extremely competitive, but also eternally looking down at her.

She had had somehow made a name for herself at her university, with her high grades and her tough exterior, avoiding any kind of exterior expression of her own inner state.

She had been the bitchy girl who knew every answer, and she had upheld to that reputation, but when she walked in the first stable, she had ever been in, she felt a strange feeling of uneasiness, probably from being out of the academic habitat.

She had tried her best to avoid being tripped over in the sudden rush of people running around with piece of engine or of tires.

She was thankful that the previous leader engineer had caught her, looking like a fish out of water and smiling as a loving grandpa.

He had taught her anything he knew about professional bikes and the home and family of the stables, and slowly she had warmed over the possibility of staying there and take over the role od lead engineer in the future, which had happened that year actually.

There had been so many parties because both the lead engineer and the professional biker of MOTO GP of her stables were moving out, the first one retiring and the second moving to superbike, which was just a tiny step before retirement in the professional biker career.

She honestly would miss the biker, a nice kind of the old ones, who knew that his mechanics were right, no matter what happened on the road and didn’t get mad at them, except when they teased him and it was a nice workplace for her to work with.

But she would miss even more dearly the previous lead engineer, her old teacher and to say she was full of tears at the party in his honor was an understatement, since she spent half of the time in his chest, hugging him tightly and asking him to stay, just for another season, for her to get used to missing him, and the fact that he was leaving.

“… oh little girl, I am going to miss you too, but I am old and terribly behind with times, this team need a young man, a strong one, someone who isn’t afraid to try something provocative, and I am sure you are that person” he had kissed her forehead before moving away “… also I believe you can’t be growing with me always over your shoulder, like a damned raven!”.

And he had made her giggle, but now she was back to her old self, the self-conscious engineer in a room full of people, outside the stables, in the yearly reunion, where they talked about how the year would go, and would give them some news, alongside the name (finally!) of the new biker for their time.

They already knew that her professor had actually asked her to stay as the leader engineer for the following year, and although she had expected some protests there had been none; everybody knew she deserved the job, having made a name for herself and not just simply the professor’s legacy.

She was also a very headstrong woman, who had gotten in a few fights with the other mechanics (mostly because apparently they had an hard time accepting a woman as a colleague, which they had quickly got over with her glaring and besting them at getting a bike engine), quickly having developed the nickname of “general (L/N).

She was sitting on the left of the CEO of their biggest brand (so he was the one who made most of the decisions), meanwhile on her left there was her new assistant, an old friend and a trusted mechanic, although she wore normal clothes (a pair of black pants and a white blouse with a simple leather jacket, formal enough for the important meeting) so nobody could truly understand her role and this made her nervous.

She was used to appear almost invisible with greasy hands and a tight polyester tracksuit, also covered in dirt and grease, so to be that “feminine” it made her feel vulnerable and exposed.

She rubbed her arms and hid her hands inside the arm of the leather jacket, shrinking herself.

She had been perfecting her mimetic skills till the door, swung open and their new biker’s manager, walked in, almost waltzing, meanwhile a figure set down on the other end of the door, partially covered and hidden by it.

But she knew immediately who he was, something that happened when you worked as a mechanic for so much: you learned that details were what made everything perfect, and if you watched everything long enough to capture them you would immediately knew what was wrong.

And what was wrong with this one was that his name was Jim Mason and he had officially almost dropped out of the professional biking system because of drug abuse, after he had been caught high before a race, which had prompted the “light” suspension of one year, and the constant testing of his blood and urine in order to prove he wasn’t under the effect of drugs anymore.

He had been lucky because no other evidence had been found on him and no other similar events had happened, plus it was a light drug they had found with him, so the big guys of the MOTO GP circuit had agreed for his license not to be revoked if he proved to be sober and if the drugs were out of his system for at least six months.

But to make him move onto the MOTO GP stage was a crazy move.

Because, not only Jim Mason was an addict, he was also one of those bikers she liked to call “stuntmen”, those crazy assholes who thought it was fine to drag the poor soul of an engine to hell and back and leave the bike destroyed by the end of the race (and most of the time even before the end of the race…) and to get on each mechanics’ nerve.

She honestly thought it was such a bad idea that she immediately wanted to jump up and say how wrong of an idea it was, but then the manager introduced Jim in great fashion, who walked in as fiercely as a victorious conquistador, with a smirk on his face, not even a little surprised by the smile of shock everyone seemed to have for him.

He was a stuntman, but he was a damn well popular stuntman; he knew how to talk his way out of everything alongside generally being described as a “lovable dork” by many of his fellow riders and friends (she wanted to know what the hell his mechanics thought of him, but…) and the fact he was easy on the eyes, helped… a lot…

There was this half legend about how he had gotten out of the original punishment, thank to a smirk and a good word.

And now that she had him in front of her she got exactly why those rumors were being spread: he was gorgeous with what she liked calling ocean eyes, clearly blue, but so deep and tortured, hiding a lot of horrible creatures behind them, regrets and passions.

And she wanted to dive into those troubled waters.

She immediately pushed herself back, immediately turning to Russel, her assistant, who smirked at her giving his approval of the new biker.

But was she seriously the only one who thought he was trouble?

He didn’t approach her, probably her pissed off aura not being the ideal environment to actually start a conversation, but just as she thought of having managed to avoid him for the entire evening, Jack, the manager, approached her, getting Jim by an arm, meanwhile he was talking with the CEO, eyeing her swiftly as if to say “YOU TWO NEED TO MEET”.

-Jimmy, let me present you, our new leader engineer, (Y/N) (L/N), the best pupil of (P/N), I hope you will have your best time together- he clearly wanted them to have a nice memory of their first meeting, but (Y/N), as Elizabeth Bennet, already knew what she thought of “Jimmy”.

He was an arrogant cocky boy, a dangerous bet for their stable, but she had no actions on her part or other properties for her to have some decisional power; no matter the fact that she fixed their engines.

She still held out her hand, and Jim held it back, but he made the mistake to just move his eyes down her body, clearly examining her as if she was just a body and not a mind; the first strike to her humor.

-(P/N)? Are you sure he isn’t already in senile state? I didn’t think that he would choose somebody like her…- and not only had he thought she was inferior for reasons which were unknown to her (she thought it was better not to investigate) and he had spoken about her as if she wasn’t there.

-You do realize that after what you just said I could very easily unscrew a few nails of your bike on your first race, right? – she knew she was being straight up petty and lowering herself to his level, which was highly unprofessional, but…

She got his attention and now he looked at her shocked, as if to say: “she can’t do that, right?”.

Oh, she could, instead.

Jack, laughed it all off, as soon as he understood that the climate was a bit tougher than what he had expected, clearly wanting to dissipate the tension:

-…oh, (Y/N) is so funny! The funniest! – he even slapped his leg to accentuate the entire act, clearly trying too hard, which prompted her to just smirk harshly at Jim, one last time, before moving past him.

-See you on the circuit, Jimmy Boy-.

It was the first race of the year and it was an hour before the MOTO GP race started, which meant she was checking out the bike one last time before everything started, all alone, only with the bike in an holy ritual she found herself to have comfort and peace, no matter the anxiety and the high expectation which happened outside of that room.

She touched the bike, remembering the biggest and best suggestion she had gotten from her professor, feeling it reeve up under her hands, in a loving way, caressing each part of the engine, the nails, the gaskets and the brakes.

It was a wonderful feeling almost as much as having a human baby in her hand, but a bike didn’t break, it if you made it fall, which made her feel a lot better.

Something was knocked over and she almost lost the grip on the bike, before turning around to glare at whoever interrupted the ritual, knowing it couldn’t be no one from her team since everybody seemed to know about her ritual, and nobody dared to interrupt it.

But it was Jim, which explained so much and made her immediately turn around to the bike, not giving him an ounce of attention, the exact same behavior she had had for his entire staying, only listening to his opinions on the bike, and most of the time ignoring them just because it was what she considered “annoying adjusting whines of a primadonna biker”.

He seemed, instead, to look out for her, a lot, probably because he had understood how the entire situation worked, realizing he had chosen the wrong person to mess with.

But the more he searched for her, the more she avoided him.

-Is something troubling you? – she made the first move, without facing him, instead reaching for a tire iron, to set down some loose bolts.

-Just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be making good faith to that old promise about loosening my bolts- he tried to make it seem like it didn’t bother him, clearly opting for a warm approach in order for them to bury the hatchet.

-I am a professional- “unlike you” she wanted to add, but if he was trying to make an attempt at doing this, she might as well as try to sound better for him -… and I wouldn’t kill anybody-.

-And here goes my plan to get my trusted mechanic to eliminate my enemies- he laughed, heartedly something she immediately found loving, alongside those ocean eyes and she dared turning around, although she didn’t meet his gaze.

-… I am sure you will kill them on the race- she replied -… I mean metaphorically, not literally, please don’t do anything reckless-.

She didn’t know where the last part of that discourse came from, knowing perfectly “reckless” was Jim’s second nature, but still… she might have slowly started caring a tiny bit for him, although he was still a pain in her ass.

-I will try my best- he promised, holding out a hand, clearly asking for her to trust him.

-… sorry I have my hands still dirty- she didn’t trust him still, at least not before his first race as a MOTO GP champion, but he didn’t seem disappointed by her shooting him down, which prompted just a shake of head.

-Don’t worry, you can hold it after I won this-.

-Which part of “don’t be reckless” didn’t you get? – but she was smiling although the harsh tone of her voice, and he just turned, holding up his hands as if to say “I am done here”.

And she went back to her bike.

He had won.

Not a clean won, but a spectacular one since he managed to rise from his sixth place, at the start, which prompted him to reach for the third place and when the riders in front of him, the favorite ones, ended up battling for the first place and crashing with a thrilling move, he had become the first one, keeping a swift pace till the end of the race.

But she had also seen the tense way he tried to keep hold of the bike, uneasy on it and terribly insecure, but thankfully he had been generously helped by the hands of the Fortune, so she waited till the end of the game, after he had been on the podium and the press conference, to talk with him, catching him just before moving to his trailer.

He immediately beamed at her, but she just shot him down with a harsh glare.

-I did…-

-You were lucky on the circuit- she replied instead, a harsh glare on her face: she would have to work on her bike for at least a day after what he had done to it, terribly ruined by his reckless behavior, pushing it to its limits, and moving over to them -…Rossi and Lorenzo let you pass because they underestimated you, but it won’t happen in any other days, meanwhile about Marquez and Dovizioso… you were very lucky; what happened was that nobody was expecting you, so they didn’t come prepared, but now they will count your presence and analyze you for every flaw, so from now on… no reckless behavior, you listen to me-.

-You are just a mechanic- he muttered, a bit taken aback from her discourse.

Clearly, he had become used to all those people smiling at him and telling him how great he did, that he didn’t understand a harsh critique of his style.

-Yeah, that means I work on your bike, and right now the suspensions are broken, I will have to work on the engine because it overheats too quickly and don’t let me talk about your tires…- she had never had any kind of things like this with her previous biker, not because he didn’t race like it mattered, but because he knew perfectly the difference between reckless driving and careful racing style -… and I know what this means: you need to develop a tactic and understand the bike…-

-Are you offering help with all those critiques or…? – he was clearly not on his best mood and annoyed by her thoughts but at the same time he was making an effort to understand her point of view, which was… nice.

It made her blush.

-I … - she wasn’t in the mental state to be anything else than critical -… meet me in the stable in five minutes-.

She was wearing a looser version of her tracksuit (a t-shirt, already full of grease and other things and a pair of loose pants), meanwhile Jimmy had changed into his usual appearance, a jeans jacket instead of the leather one.

He seemed surprised when he saw his bike, open in different pieces, only recognizable by the number on top of it, and the colors around it.

-What does this mean? – he asked, confused.

-Want to crash your bike? Well, then you are going to help me put it back together- she replied, smirking, before passing him an iron tire, prompting an even more confused face -… the more you know about these things, the more you will understand the telltale signs of overworking a bike-.

He immediately nodded, still a bit surprised by her approach and sitting down himself next to her and the “bike”.

-… is that a Miyagi way of teaching me not to mess with your precious bike? – he asked, although smiling, lightly meanwhile she instructed him on how to use the iron tire, he held so tightly in his hand.

-It’s a (L/N) way to teach you to be a better rider, Jimmy Boy, now move your ass, we need to be finished before dinner, you have a party to attend-.

He seemed even more shocked by this admission, but then moved to do what he was expected to be done, tightening bolts and nails.

-… are you coming to the party? – he asked, meanwhile keeping his eyes on the work, meanwhile she overviewed his work.

-Do I look like the kind of person who goes to parties? – she replied, meanwhile adjusting his grip on her hand, much larger than hers, but also clumsier than hers -… also after you are done here, I will keep on working here, you have another race in two weeks-.

-Two weeks, (Y/N)! - he uttered, calling her for her first name since they had met, making it sound so jovial, as if they were two best friends, just working on a bike, meanwhile his hands weren’t in hers.

-… and you have two weeks to learn how to drive, so this needs to be ready by tomorrow-.

---

And that is all for today!

Let mw know what you thought about it (I really hope you will like it, because I had tons of fun writing it and now I will go back to watch “Dumpling, write two reviews and then maybe start a new seris about Duncan (set before “A Relief For The Stress)!

Any feedback is welcome!

Love you, lovelies!

See you soon!

Heco Hansen