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themurphyzone · 3 years

Text

Nova Ch 11

AN: This is gonna be the last of the set-up chapters. The story will start snowballing (see what I did there? Heehee) from the next chapter on.

This chapter includes an art piece I requested from the talented @plutonis, and I’m so glad I can finally show this off because it contains some very gorgeous colors.

AO3 Link

Ch 11: Spectrum

Terran Date 2015.4.28

Yesterday, Pinky showed me one of his favorite pieces of media to thank me for the story of Heikro var Silda, even though he cried for fifteen minutes because of the tragic ending. While indeed sad, I’m proud to say I remained steadfast and controlled my emotions upon revisiting the story. And while I told him it wasn’t necessary, he insisted and I acquiesced to his demands.

That’s how Pinky introduced me to The Lion King. Once again, I remained strong even when the emotional distress threatened to override my logical mind. It was...rather difficult, I’ll admit. We watched the sequel afterward, and though I’ve created five different charts that list the plot points in order, I cannot come up with a satisfactory sequence of events that connects both movies into a cohesive narrative.

Moving onto real life matters...Pinky seems to be under the impression that I will be a permanent resident of the lab.

Celestial bodies above, what use is my intelligence if I’m trapped among heathen, dimwitted fools who can’t tell the difference between left and right! I refuse to be a lab rat, made to do the so-called dominant species’ bidding. Snowball and I shall be taking over this planet and progressing their backwards society far beyond their wildest dreams! That’s what we came here for, and I will not be sidetracked again.

As for Pinky...well, his imagination can make up some personalities for his inanimate object friends once I leave. He doesn’t have any shortage of those. The newest addition to the crew is an eraser nub with the moniker of ‘Gummy’.

Signing off for now,

The Brain

o-o-o-o-o

Brain saved the new transmission to an encrypted, password-protected file. None of the scientists were technical experts, so the odds of discovery were miniscule or nonexistent. He only had five audio files in total, a meager amount compared to the hundreds of transmissions he’d made back on New Selene. The pointer hovered over the Delete All button. He didn’t have a reason to keep making transmissions when he was leaving the lab behind in just a few days.

Still, he hesitated.

Maybe he could leave it as a memento for Pinky. But even a basic level of encryption and case-sensitive password would remain far beyond Pinky’s capabilities.

Perhaps it was best to leave the issue for another night.

He logged off the computer and joined Pinky, who’d surrounded himself with Gummy and the rest of his inanimate object friends as he played a board game called Monopoly. Though Brain had looked up the rules and goals of the game during his online session out of curiosity, he didn’t really understand the appeal or mass marketability of such an unbalanced game.

Although, given the number of different versions of Monopoly out there, creating and selling his own version of the game with the title of Brainopoly could prove to be a viable plan.

Pinky was playing as if there were four players and not just a free-for-all against a nickel, button, and eraser. It became disturbingly obvious that Pinky was either overly generous or just woefully terrible at mental math, because he continually doled out the wrong amount of money from the bank or his own meager cash pile.

And Pinky was far better off if Brain cut in now, because there was no chance that anyone else was catching up to Gummy, who owned the most lucrative properties and had the largest amount of money.

He had to stop anthropomorphizing these objects. He was starting to think like Pinky, and that was an extremely distressing thought.

“You’re losing to an eraser,” Brain said. Pinky only had a few fives in currency, and the three properties he owned were all flipped over and mortgaged.

“Yeah, Gummy’s just very good at this game! Narf!” Pinky said as he rolled the dice for Mr. Button. “It’s so nice of him to let us sleep in his Marvin Garden Apartments though. Otherwise we’d be homeless!”

“Nice indeed,” Brain replied. For his peace of mind, he didn’t dare press for more details.

Pinky threw the dice, then moved the bucket token seven spaces, landing on the Luxury Tax space. “That’ll be seventy-five dollars, Mr. Button,” Pinky said as he gathered the money, which only totaled sixty. And Mr. Button’s four properties were all mortgaged. Pinky realized this too. “Oh...you don’t have enough. Poit.”

Any normal player would’ve tossed in the towel right there, but Pinky wasn’t a conventional player by any means. He frowned, scratched his head, then picked up his own pile of fives and tossed them onto the sixty, bringing the amount to seventy-five, with two leftover fives for Mr. Button.

“You can have that, Mr. Button!” Pinky chirped as he dumped the luxury tax money in the middle of the board. “With a little more for the bus!”

Pinky had completely knocked himself out of the game.

This was supposed to be an extremely competitive game for families and seasoned professionals, right? Though the rules of Monopoly appeared confusing and controversial to most players, he was certain that nobody would willingly lose with such a reckless method.

Well...maybe it was just a fluke. Pinky was only playing against himself, so if he wanted to give up the money to something he was making the decisions for, that was his choice.

Besides, he couldn’t watch this game much longer.

“I’ll be your next opponent,” Brain announced. He’d never played before, but the basics seemed simple enough. And the math involved was basic arithmetic he could do in his sleep. “Reset the board at once, Pinky.”

Pinky’s tail wagged as he gathered up the houses and hotels and tossed them back into the box, then settled down as he skillfully shuffled the Community Chest and Chance cards. From the way he hummed and twirled around, an outsider could easily mistake Brain for a playmate instead of an opponent.

Brain quickly read over the instruction sheet, then divided the game currency into a starting amount for himself, Pinky, and the bank.

“Can I be in charge of the property cards, Brain?” Pinky asked as he organized them by color.

“Yes, but I shall handle all other banker duties,” Brain said. “Listen closely, Pinky. I’ve looked up stories about Monopoly games going on for a long time with no definitive winner, so we’ll stop the game when one of us runs out of money, or if chance has favored you or I enough that we can place a hotel on the board.”

“Chance always has a problem with favoritism,” Pinky said as he moved the horse token to the Go space. Indeed, chance hasn’t always favored members of either of their species, but it could stand to be more merciful during a board game. He hugged the horse token to his chest. “Anyways, Pharfigtwoton is always my choice! What’s yours?”

Brain didn’t understand how anyone in their right mind would want to play as a wheelbarrow or bucket, and the only pieces that interested him at all were the ones that resembled modes of Terran transportation. In the end, he chose the battleship.

He was tempted to call it the Conquistador Two, but he didn’t want to follow the trend of naming random objects.

“Good one!” Pinky said as he pushed the ship over to the horse token. “A gorgeous ship like this needs a name...so I hereby dub thee Battley McBattleface!”

“We’re calling it the Conquistador Two, and that’s final,” Brain snapped.

“The Conquesodor Two,” Pinky agreed.

They tossed the dice to decide turn order, and Pinky won that battle easily since Brain had the misfortune to roll double ones.

On his first turn, Pinky managed to land on St. Charles Place with a high roll. He happily shelled out the money required to buy the property. “I’m putting a nice dog park here!” he declared, placing the unused dog token in the magenta space above the property. “Now Pharfigtwoton can give rides to all the puppies!”

Brain didn’t know if Monopoly required players to create their own storyline, but it certainly made the game more interesting and baffling at the same time. He rolled the dice, sighing when he could only advance to Reading Railroad.

He hoped it wouldn’t be a trend for Pinky to receive high rolls while he was stuck in the first half of the board.

But he quickly changed his mind once he paid up for Reading Railroad and read through the card information. Just like any real life war or corporate strategy, the key to his victory would lie in controlling the flow of transportation and goods!

Pinky landed on New York on his next turn, rambling about taking all the puppies to New York for a double decker bus tour of the city as he slid a stack of bills to Brain. Brain sighed and tossed an extra twenty bill back at Pinky. He wished Pinky would pay more attention to adding properly than the make-believe puppies.

Brain rolled the dice and moved his battleship to Virginia, claiming the property so Pinky couldn’t control one-fourth of the board this early in the game.

“Brain, can I have a house?” Pinky asked as he drew a Community Chest card. He read through the card and grinned. “Awww, I got second in a beauty pageant! Thank you, everyone! It’s such an honor! Oh, and it says I also won ten dollars.”

“You don’t meet the conditions required for a house, Pinky,” Brain said, giving Pinky a ten. He didn’t care about the fake beauty pageant, just that money was either gained or lost depending on luck of the draw.

“Oh, I’ll keep them off the board,” Pinky promised. “I just want a house for Terry to live in.”

He held up the dog token, who was now apparently called Terry.

“Fine, but don’t mix your ridiculous fantasies with the board,” Brain sighed and tossed a green house at Pinky, which smacked him in the head when he didn’t catch it in time. Pinky laughed it off and coaxed Terry to stand next to the house.

Houses and hotels. His Internet searches on the Clarkes led to tons of websites on the Terran real estate market and hotel industry.

Which reminded Brain that he hadn’t shared his research into the Clarkes with Pinky yet. There hadn’t been enough time during the day, where the incompetent scientists poked and prodded them. And in Brain’s case, tried to figure out where the antennae came from.

Their hypotheses, and he was being exceedingly generous when he described their speculation and conspiracy theories as hypotheses, amounted to claiming a Terran mouse and insect had reproduced together.

“I’ve brushed up on the Clarkes so we can properly impersonate them at the party. According to-scrik!” Brain hissed under his breath when he landed on New York and had to pay Pinky.

“Sixteen please!” Pinky chirped. “All proceeds will go to buying toys and treats for good dogs in need!”

Brain grudgingly gave up the sixteen. Probability was not on his side tonight. “As I was saying before cruel fate reared its ugly head, the man I shall impersonate, Anthony Clarke, is an esteemed real estate and luxury hotel mogul, with a net worth in the billions. His success is rooted in savvy, ruthless business against competitors. It appears that he and Lamont are old college acquaintances, which we can spin to our advantage. And...yes! B&O Railroad!”

He claimed the B&O Railroad for himself, and Pinky wrinkled his nose. “I wouldn’t ride on the Body Odor Railroad even if you pay me in cheese,” he said.

Brain rolled his eyes. “The temptation for cheese is too powerful for your empty mind and bottomless stomach.”

“You’re right, Brain. It’s too yummy.” Pinky licked his lips. “So does that make me Mrs. Zoey Clarke then? Unless he divorced her already. I haven’t kept up with them in a while.” The butler on the phone had made a similar comment, thoroughly expecting ‘Mr. Clarke’ to divorce his spouse by the end of the week.

“So you’re aware of the Clarkes,” Brain said. He rolled the dice, and chance immediately sentenced him to jail. He had to push his battleship all the way to the jail space.

But all of this divorcing nonsense was trivial to his goals. Hardly worth a footnote.

The objective was to infiltrate the party, mingle with the guests to throw off suspicion, then steal the military weapon and take over the world, not involve himself in a Terran’s relationship drama.

“Ooh, tough.” Pinky clicked his tongue in sympathy as he bought Waterworks. “But everyone knows who the Clarkes are. Didn’t you see anything about all those divorces when you looked them up?”

“I’m more interested in his business ventures than his messy personal life,” Brain replied. “All this talk about divorce is simply incidental. But now I digress. Escaping jail so I may continue my conquering campaign is of utmost priority.”

“Doubles! Doubles!” Pinky chanted as Brain threw the dice. A two and three faced up, but no doubles. Pinky deflated, but only for a moment. Then he picked up a fifty. “Here, Brain. I’ll bail you out.”

From Brain’s brief skim over the rules, he didn’t recall a single one that allowed players to bail each other out of jail. He wanted to refuse and tell Pinky to focus on winning for himself, but obtaining Pennsylvania Railroad, which he’d missed the first time he’d passed through this section of the board, was just too tempting.

Brain took the fifty from Pinky, put it in the bank, then moved his battleship out of jail and used his draining resources to buy Pennsylvania Railroad. Only afterward did he realize that he’d been steadily losing money every turn and hadn’t gained anything since the beginning of the game.

Contrast to Pinky, who rolled a twelve and skipped over the last fourth of the board, placing him squarely on the Go space and guaranteeing himself a free two hundred. Then he rolled a low number and bought Mediterranean.

A poor investment, given that it was hardly worth anything. But Pinky didn’t think so.

And he wouldn’t stop cooking up new fantasies either. “Now we can host a beach jubilee for your welcome home from jail party! With hot dogs and beach balls and those big umbrellas and-”

Brain lobbed the dice at Pinky so he’d quiet down and allow Brain to formulate a strategy in peace.

Perhaps a pass around the board without purchasing anything would be necessary. He had to rebuild his financial resources again. The downside was that Pinky could potentially take the spaces for himself, but it was entirely possible that he’d miss some of the open spaces too.

So he did just that, finally lucking out when a Community Chest card sent Pinky to Reading Railroad.

But Pinky was incapable of keeping his mouth shut, and soon he was back on the topic of the infamous Clarke divorces.

“-so I think Zoey is number eleven, and I know they all blend together, so when I confuse them I just remember divorce, beheaded, died, divorce, beheaded, survived!”

Brain stared at Pinky, praying to all the ancient Selenian gods nobody believed in anymore that Snowball didn’t have him take the identity of a murderer.

“Oh wait no, no...that’s King Henry, not Clarke. Must’ve mixed them up, poit. Sorry.”

Brain threw another green house at Pinky, nailing him in the shoulder. Pinky yelped, but once he realized he had another house he immediately thanked Brain because that meant Terry’s friend could move next door.

Since there was little point to dissuading Pinky entirely, Brain focused on his game strategy instead.

It was mostly repetition anyway. Roll dice, move piece, board event, repeat. Perhaps it would be considered tedious and monotonous, but the storylines Pinky improvised were what truly made it fascinating, even though Brain could only follow about half of it since Pinky created plotholes within the fantastical yet mundane place named Monopoly City faster than the speed of light.

According to Pinky, he and his sister co-ran an enormous pet supply shop attached to a humane animal shelter next door to the dog park. Meanwhile, Brain was conductor of a magical train and seeking the mayorship because the corrupt mayor was involved with an evil cigarette corporation who wanted to diabolically sell their products to innocent children.

And while Pinky certainly had a knack for improvisation, the matter at hand was that Brain couldn’t resist buying Boardwalk, but he’d used up a third of his money and Pinky wasn’t landing there to make up for the deficit. But Brain also had Baltic, the least valuable property, and Pinky had Park Place, which Brain desperately needed since neither of them had houses on the board yet.

This wasn’t going to be a fair trade for Pinky, but it was the best chance Brain had to etch out a victory. He was going for it.

“Park for Baltic so we can finally build some residences,” Brain said, sliding the card over to Pinky.

And to his surprise, Pinky jumped at the opportunity. “Sure, Brain! If you’ll trade me Oriental for Marvin Gardens. We’re gonna open a Chinatown district!”

He’d be giving Pinky control of the first quarter of the board, but the allure of the most expensive properties was far too tempting to pass up.

They swapped properties, then paused the game to set up their houses. Brain didn’t have enough money to buy houses for all his properties, so he set two houses on Boardwalk and hoped he could deal a staggering blow to Pinky’s finances. And even this decision was costly, for he only had $180 left.

Pinky set four houses on Baltic and clapped his hands together. “They’re beach houses,” he explained, and didn’t bother putting houses on the rest of his properties even though he could afford it.

Brain kept his mouth shut. Best not to give Pinky ideas. So he rolled the dice and got doubles.

Luxury Tax.

Scrik.

Now he was down to $105. But he’d pass Go on his next turn, so he could obtain an extra two hundred and hopefully skip this portion of the board.

Then he landed on Baltic.

He slowly looked at Pinky, and Brain couldn’t tell if Pinky was being perfectly innocent or just very, very good at pretending to be perfectly innocent. “That’ll be $320 please,” Pinky said.

Including the two hundred from passing Go, he’d only have a grand total of $305.

And according to the conditions he’d set, he’d lost the game through losing all his money.

“Can’t pay it,” Brain sighed. “Congratulations, Pinky. You’ve bested me.”

Pinky giggled and threw his play money in the air in celebration. “Aw, thanks for playing with me! I’ve never played Monopoly with anyone before. Never been able to get the board to Pharfignewton’s stable without the play money flying all over the street. It took me a long time to pick it all up. We should definitely do this again, Brain! Troz!”

But there wouldn’t be a next time. No matter how much he wanted to be victorious in another match against Pinky.

“Yes, we should,” Brain forced out, willing his racing heart to calm down so he wasn’t caught in his lie.

Pinky beamed, and Brain only wished it wasn’t so difficult to explain.

o-o-o-o-o

Terran Date 4.29.2015

Tonight, we shall seek appropriate outfits for the masquerade ball. I have been informed that my jumpsuit is not considered formal attire and that we will need to shop for proper clothing. However, I will be bringing my jumpsuit along since I will not return to the lab, and I require my conquering outfit to carry out our plans.

Pinky knows a place that may contain what we need. He’s spent the last two hours finishing his hat for the Kentucky Derby and has proudly shown off the finished product to me. Though I’ll admit that the result can only be considered a hat if one is generous with their definition.

I have not been able to contact Snowball. I can only assume he’s making the necessary preparations on his end.

Signing off for now,

The Brain

o-o-o-o-o

They stood in front of an enormous building with bright neon letters, impossible to miss even with his direction-challenged companion. Thankfully, it was only a few blocks from the lab. After the scientists strapped him to a machine that tested centrifugal force, he didn’t have the energy to walk much further.

“Welcome to Toyz ‘B’ We, Brain!” Pinky exclaimed, and Brain cringed at the horrendous grammar of that name. “It's the most wonderfulest toy shop ever!”

Wonderfulest wasn’t a word, but Brain was given no time to inform Pinky of that fact before Pinky dragged him to the entrance, where a large, cartoonish statue of a Terran bee stood off to the side, greeting customers with a cheerful wave of her magic wand.

“So that’s the mascot, Becky Bee,...let’s see, those are the shopping carts and the baskets and those machines that give you washable tattoos-”

“Focus on the clothing, Pinky. Not all the extraneous material,” Brain reminded him as they entered the store. Unlike their disastrous mall trip, Brain had brought along a source of money, an ACME credit card one of the scientists had carelessly left at their desk after purchasing a chair online.

They had a right to use the card as ACME employees who never got paid for their hard labor in experiments. And he promised Pinky he’d give it back once they were through purchasing the necessary items, so it didn’t catch on that pesky ‘no stealing’ radar.

Based on Pinky’s descriptions of the store, he expected an interior full of wonder, excitement, and interesting objects designed for enjoyment for young Terrans.

Instead, everything was a sterile white, yellow, or black. Rectangular kits of building blocks of all shapes and sizes sat neatly in a row, their price tags dusty as if they hadn’t been moved or cleaned in some time.

Dozens of bee models hung from the ceiling rafters, all of them sharing the exact same dead stare and pose. The whole setup was rather unnerving, and Brain averted his eyes.

He spotted two workers at the registers. They scrolled through their phones, not noticing Pinky’s cheerful greeting as he skipped past them. A third worker called out in alarm to them, and they suddenly dropped their phones and picked up rags, repetitively wiping their counters in circles in a poor attempt to appear busy.

The only one who acted like they were in a store meant for entertainment was Pinky, who oohed and ahhed and zigzagged all over the place to get a look at all the toys.

“Brain, look at this Barbie convertible! It’s so sparkly!” Pinky exclaimed before darting off to admire the box art on five-hundred piece jigsaw puzzles, then crawled onto the lowest shelf to hug a life-sized chihuahua plushie. “Narf! This one’s a cutie! And I also like the polka-dotted lizard, that green unicorn, and that rainbow koala looks really soft too-”

Brain grabbed Pinky’s tail, yanking him out of the shelf and onto the floor.

“This store’s already eroding whatever’s left of your mind,” Brain said, dragging Pinky away from the stuffed animals.

Pinky propped himself up on his elbows, humming as they passed aisle upon aisle of action figures, balls, and building blocks.

It was strange how they seemed to be the only customers here. Shouldn’t there be more snot-nosed brats running amok or haggard parents corralling them so they didn’t destroy everything with their grubby hands?

Still, perhaps he shouldn’t complain.

It was a relief that he didn’t have to worry about people trampling him underfoot for now.

But the peace didn’t last long, since Pinky suddenly peeled away in a completely different direction, forgetting that Brain was hanging onto his tail. Though he tried to dig his heels in, Pinky was too fast and the floor too slippery for Brain to bring them to a halt.

Then Pinky stopped on his own, and Brain only caught a glimpse of a metallic table leg before he crashed face-first into it, his nose smarting from the impact.

“Sorry, Brain,” Pinky said sheepishly, and there were five upside-down images of him. Brain swatted at the one in the middle, but his hand hit empty air instead. He shook his head to clear his vision, and all but the Pinky on the far left vanished.

Pinky didn’t stay put for long, darting past Brain. He hauled himself up the table leg and onto a light blue tablecloth. “You have to come up and see this, Brain!” Pinky squealed, peering over the edge of the table, his tail wagging beside him. “There’s an entire fence made of Legos here!”

Brain sighed, wondering if it was an exercise in futility to get Pinky to focus on the task at hand. “This is the last time I’ll repeat myself!” Brain shouted as he climbed up to retrieve Pinky. “We’re here for the clothes and-”

Though Brain only took fifteen seconds to ascend, Pinky managed to don a cropped, checkered top that showed off his slender stomach and a very short blue skirt in that short timeframe.

“Well, what do you think?” Pinky giggled and twirled in circles, the skirt flying in a graceful arc around his waist. “I could go square dancin’ in this, pardner! Yee-narf!”

Realizing he’d been staring at Pinky’s exposed stomach rather than making proper eye contact, Brain quickly turned away and pretended to find a row of small toy cars interesting. Next to the toy cars, there was a menagerie of small, plastic animals penned in by a colorful fence.

Part of a garden themed jigsaw puzzle served as a lawn under his feet, the pieces leading up to an enormous pink dollhouse.

Pinky took off the clothes he’d tried on, neatly threading a bent wire through the crop top and skirt and hanging them on a piece of string that served as a makeshift clothesline. There were five different clotheslines, each stocked to the brim with a variety of colorful articles.

Brain thumbed through the selection, though he didn’t feel an attachment to any of these pieces. While these clothes were designed for toys, most of them were still too big for him.

Finding something that would fit would be more difficult than he realized.

There was a large empty space past all the clotheslines, but it seemed it would be filled in soon enough. The display had all the signs of being a work in progress, and Brain couldn’t help but wonder who had the patience to put all this together. Certainly not the bored workers at the registers.

It was a welcome splash of creativity from the rest of the dull store.

“Poit. This is exactly how I imagined my dream home to be,” Pinky said in awe. He walked up to the front door and popped it open, revealing a spacious interior. Brain followed Pinky inside and they explored the first floor together, which contained a kitchen, living room, and a playroom.

“I really like the coloring on those kitchen cabinets, and the fireplace is a great touch! Very retro. And the kiddies will have a grand ol’ time in the playroom,” Pinky said as they climbed the staircase to the second floor and walked through two bedrooms and a bathroom.

“Marble countertops would make the kitchen and bathroom more refined,” Brain argued. Really, did Pinky want any visitors to think uncivilized brutes owned the house? “But the fireplace is a welcome touch.”

Pinky shrugged as they entered the master bedroom. “It’s fine as is. Now if the backyard was bigger with a dolphin-shaped swimming pool, that would be really, really amazing!”

And Brain preferred marble countertops, but since he wouldn’t be getting everything he wanted, neither would Pinky.

Brain sat on the large bed that took up half the room, the fluffy covers soft and welcoming. But they were on a mission, and future world rulers didn’t roll around on beds in an undignified manner, no matter how tempting it was.

Pinky threw open the closet doors, revealing more clothing inside. “Oh, these pajamas are lovely!” he said, pressing a yellow nightgown close to his body.

“Anything that would suit our purposes?” Brain asked. In hindsight, doing some research into what people wore for masquerade balls would’ve been helpful. He didn’t know why it slipped his mind. Perhaps Pinky’s scatterbrained traits were contagious.

“Hmmm, it’s all pajamas and casual wear,” Pinky said, flicking through the different articles. He closed the doors and reopened them, as if the formal wear would magically appear if they were out of sight. “No suits for you or the porpoises, Brain.” And he’d been so hopeful too.

“Maybe we can find something in the aisles,” Pinky said.

A sensible suggestion, for once.

Brain tried not to appear reluctant to leave the bed, but necessity demanded it. As he stood up, the fur on his neck pricked, his ears twitching towards the large window in the bedroom.

An odd sense that he was being watched came over him, and when he turned to look at the window, he saw a Terran’s eye peering into the balcony.

They stared at each other.

Then the eye blinked.

And Brain was suddenly very, very glad Snowball wasn’t here to bear witness, or he’d never hear the end of how he’d leapt onto Pinky’s back in his moment of panic.

Pinky yelped, and so did the Terran outside the window. There were several loud thuds, followed by a frantic apology.

Brain released Pinky, rubbing his face to get rid of the blush as he ran down the staircase and out the front door.

“S-sorry!” a young woman stammered as she bent down to pick up several packages of toys, only to lose her large glasses on the floor in the process. She wore the standard uniform of the store. “I didn’t think anyone would be inside! I thought one of the furniture pieces fell over, that’s all!”

Pinky hopped down from the table, picking up the woman’s glasses and pressing them into her hand. “It’s okay!” he chirped. “You scared us good, but now we can laugh about it! Oh, your name tag says Sharon! What a lovely name! I’m Pinky, that chubby alien up there is Brain, and we’re going to a party this weekend where we’ll raise awareness for the plight of frosted animal crackers!”

“That’s not the event’s objective,” Brain corrected, and he had no choice but to let Pinky come to his own conclusions. Stealing the secret weapon on Lamont property would remain classified information as promised. “And if you call me chubby again, I shall have to hurt you.”

Sharon took her glasses from Pinky with a tentative smile, then let him climb up her arm and onto her shoulder. “Zort! You have very good taste in Polly Pocket dolls!” Pinky said, peering down at the packages in her hands. “Do you collect?”

Sharon blushed. “I, um, have a lot of Beanie Babies at home. I’m not really interested in Polly Pockets, but they’d fit much better in this display than a standard Barbie.” She glanced at Brain. “I’m sorry, could you please move? I’m putting a few things in that area.”

Brain moved out of the way as Sharon carefully opened the packages. Then she placed several small tables and chairs in the empty space next to the clotheslines, bending the dolls’ legs into sitting positions and placing them on the chairs. She worked slowly and diligently, taking great caution to not knock anything over or break the items.

“Did you make all this?” Pinky asked. “It’s amazing!”

“Y-yeah, I did. The display, I mean. Not the toys.” Sharon didn’t look at Pinky as she straightened one of the Lego fences. “Store’s been on the decline, and because there’s not really much to do, I’m trying to create a few displays to generate some interest. The toys in this one were supposed to be thrown away since nobody’s buying them, even on clearance, but it just seemed so wasteful.”

She was resourceful. It was a valuable trait, but she seemed more embarrassed than anything.

“Take pride, Sharon. It’s an excellent use of parts,” Brain advised.

Pinky nodded eagerly. “And you’re saving the toys from the evil furnace! I’m sure they’re very grateful to you when you’re not looking!”

“You...you really like it?” Sharon lifted her glasses and wiped a tear from her eye. “Nobody’s ever really noticed my efforts around here.”

“Well, they should!” Pinky declared. “I’ll tell them so myself!”

Sharon smiled as Pinky hugged her face, then rejoined Brain on the table. “Thanks, but I don’t think you came to this store just to invade a toy home.”

“No, we didn’t,” Brain said, seeing his opportunity and seizing it. “We require formal clothes for a masquerade ball, and unfortunately, we haven’t seen anything of interest yet.”

“There’s plenty of interesting things in here, Brain,” Pinky said. “Like the busybody bees up on the ceiling!”

Apparently they had two very different definitions of interesting.

“Well, I can bring out some items from the back,” Sharon offered. “We had to pull the entire line of formal Zuma Ben accessories last week. Some parents found the outfits a little scandalous for their kids, so now the accessories are just going in the trash. But maybe you’ll find something to wear from the pile. Be right back, guys!” She walked away, her steps growing slightly more confident.

“Real Zuma Ben accessories?” Pinky clasped his hands to his cheek. “I’ve never worn anything like that before!”

“It’s just a name,” Brain said. He didn’t see why Pinky was treating Zuma Ben’s name like a sacred object. “As long as we’re dressed to impress, the name doesn’t matter.”

“I just think they’re pretty,” Pinky replied. “And I like looking at them, even if I can’t buy anything. Still, I’m really happy with the clothes I have now.”

But Pinky had a sizable wardrobe. Those clothes had to come from somewhere.

“So how did you obtain your clothes if you never bought them?” Brain asked.

Pinky smiled. “The scientists. They’ll drop clothes into my cage, which is really nice of them! One time, I put on this pretty sundress they gave me and I started itching really bad. I was jumping around like a tiny monkey and I managed to make them all laugh! I must’ve been quite the sight!”

Pinky laughed at the memory, but Brain was more disturbed at how the blatant act of humiliation didn’t affect him in the slightest. Then the laugh faltered and restarted at a higher pitch.

No, that initial assessment was wrong. True, Pinky could withstand many things, but not even the most resilient being could tolerate the sound of mockery for long.

Should he say something? Was an ‘I’m sorry’ sufficient? Was there any act of comfort that didn’t involve unnecessary physical contact?

Brain wanted to be decisive, but dozens of scenarios played out in his head, and none of them led to a satisfactory outcome. Tell Pinky to cease his laughter, embrace him, talk about the weather. He didn’t know.

Emotions led to nothing but trouble.

“Quit staring,” Brain snapped when Pinky wouldn’t stop watching him like he wanted something.

Pinky’s ears fell, but Sharon came back before the pang of guilt could fully settle in Brain’s stomach.

“Thanks for waiting, guys,” Sharon said as she dumped the accessory packages onto the table. “See anything you like?”

“All of them!” Pinky declared, happily tossing a three-pack of formal dresses into the air. He tried tearing it open, but the packaging wouldn’t give. Sharon helpfully tore it open for him, and Pinky made a happy, grateful sound before pulling a sparkly purple dress over his body. He twirled around. “So how do I look?”

“Lovely,” Sharon giggled as she pulled out her phone. She set it against the Lego fence, allowing Pinky to see himself in the camera app.

“I’ll put this as a maybe,” Pinky said. “But I have to give all the dresses a chance too!”

He tried four other dresses on in quick succession, and all of them went into the maybe pile.

Meanwhile, Brain searched through his choices of men’s formal wear. He wanted the best possible option for successful infiltration, but he didn’t know much about Terran fashion. His nose wrinkled at a powdered blue suit with far too many ruffles. He was fairly certain that wouldn’t garner respect on any planet, so he pushed the offending pack away from his other options.

The pure white suit would get stained too easily. He needed something darker. That one was out.

“Hey Brain, what about this one?” Pinky asked. He now wore a long sleeved lime green dress, which Brain found extremely tacky and unappealing to the eyes. Not even Pinky could salvage that monstrosity. Yet in Pinky’s hands, there was a black suit with a white shirt underneath. Not extravagant by any means, but since the coloration was similar to his conquering attire, it was the most probable choice by far.

But while Pinky was comfortable with changing in front of others, Brain wasn’t so keen on the idea.

“I require privacy,” Brain said. He took the suit from Pinky and went inside the house, shutting the door behind him and ensuring the shutters were closed.

Then he removed his gloves and jumpsuit, shivering from the cold air as he laid the items over a chair. He put on the new set of pants first, then the white collared shirt, and finally buttoned the jacket over his abdomen.

Well, it was comfortable. And it hid most of his stomach too, which was also a positive. But he needed to see how it looked in the light before making a judgment call, so he rejoined Pinky and Sharon, who were playing with different filters on her phone while Pinky wore a magnificent feathery pink dress.

“Now you really look like a flamingo,” Sharon laughed as Pinky changed the filter to sepia, the image now different shades of tan. Pinky blew a kiss to the camera. “This one’s my favorite so far,” Pinky declared with a graceful curtsey.

And the sleeveless feathery dress did seem to match his personality much better than all the other dresses. Flamboyant and quirky, but inviting and friendly as well. A darker pink feather boa was draped over his shoulders, and purple feathers fanned out from the back of his neck. A light green choker was wrapped around his neck. Then Pinky added a matching headband with a light pink tuft to complete the ensemble.

“That will certainly make an excellent first impression on the partygoers,” Brain said.

Pinky changed the phone filter back to normal with one hand, playing with the feather boa in his other. “Egad, you really think so?” he exclaimed. “Hold on a sec, Brain. Where’s the rest of your outfit?”

“Rest of?” Brain echoed. “This doesn’t require anything else.”

Pinky shook his head and dug a red bow and matching sash out of the clothes pile. “You need a few splashes of color, Brain! Or you’ll just end up a sad wilty wallflower!”

“They’d really match your circles,” Sharon added.

Well, he’d always looked good in red. It was a bold, attention-grabbing color.

Brain draped the sash over his shoulder and fastened the bow around his ear, checking himself over in Sharon’s phone. Then Pinky and Sharon started giggling for some odd reason.

“What?” Brain asked. He was presentable at a formal event now, wasn’t he?

“You’re kinda wearing it wrong,” Sharon admitted.

His ears flattened from embarrassment. Selenians typically wore practical jumpsuits with minimal accessories, and none of their databanks ever mentioned Terran outfits. They must’ve found it unimportant.

“Don’t worry, Brain. It’s an easy fix! May I?” Pinky exclaimed.

Brain nodded his permission, and Pinky removed the bow from Brain’s ear and carefully fastened it underneath his collar, taking great care to not pull the bow too tightly around his neck.

“So this isn’t a sash. It’s a cummerbund and you wear it around your stomach,” Pinky explained as he demonstrated the proper way to wear it. It was relieving to know Terrans made accessories that would hide the slight bulge, and Brain donned the cummerbund correctly.

The accessories really did match his orbs. For the first time, he was dressed to the nines and it was a glorious feeling indeed.

“Aw, you’re both so spiffy!” Sharon exclaimed. “Mind if I put a photo of this on the Twitter page to boost some interest?”

“We’ll return the favor,” Brain said. She deserved some reward for helping them out anyway.

Sharon turned her phone around, ready to snap the picture when Pinky suddenly darted out of frame. “Hold on! Narf!” he cried, shoving a small blue butterfly-themed mask into Brain’s hands and flipping a pink feathery mask over his face. “It’s a masquerade ball, you know!”

While Brain’s mask only covered the area around his eyes, Pinky’s face was mostly hidden by his birdlike mask, leaving only his bright blue eyes exposed.

“Doesn’t that tickle?” Brain inquired as Pinky stretched his boa out for a picture.

Pinky shrugged. “A little. But I don’t mind!”

“Smile for the camera, you guys!” Sharon grinned.

Brain didn’t smile, but he stood in front of the toy house while Sharon snapped pictures and Pinky struck a different pose with every shot.

Pinky’s laughter rang joyously in Brain’s ears.

He would leave that sound behind in just a few days. But it was a small price to pay for the world.

End AN: Maybe this chapter is a little disjointed, but oh well. Sharon is based off the toy store worker who helps the mice in Brain’s Night Off.

I tried to do the math for the Monopoly game and even pulled out my Monopoly property cards so I could get the amounts correct, but if anything is inaccurate I am hereby excused from responsibility because I am a writer and not a mathematician. Yes i use that excuse every time but it’s true.

Brain's outfit comes from the tuxedo he wore in the reboot's Future Brain episode. Pluto designed Pinky's outfit herself (somehow we both were thinking lots of pink feathers for Pinky) and deserves all the credit for it cause it's so beautiful. I chose a butterfly mask for Brain and a flamingo theme for Pinky.

#pinky and the brain #patb fanfiction #patb nova

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bottomlouisficfest · 4 years

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We hope you’ve enjoyed the second week of fics from the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Every weekend, we’re compiling all of the fics from that week into one roundup post so they’re easy to find for anyone looking to catch up on fics they missed. Enjoy these amazing fics and give them the love they deserve!

blinded by the sparks

A fic by wallstracktwo on AO3 | @wallstracktwo on Tumblr

22k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

"You can’t even keep your lies straight. Mike has the memory of an elephant and can remember every single detail about every single person he’s ever met, so don’t stand there and tell me that he mixed you up with someone else.” He took back Harry’s cigarette. “I saw you exchanging lower chips for higher ones. I saw you counting the cards. There is no fucking way you won seven thousand dollars tonight honestly. And so I will repeat myself — I want in. Fifty-fifty.”

Harry was completely taken aback by the stunningly attractive man standing in front of him. He made several attempts to say something — opening and closing his mouth at least twice before he was finally able to string a few words together. “What? No. No way. No. Sorry, but I work alone.”

That was the truth too — he had never trusted anyone enough to let them get close, especially when it came to his scamming, so having a partner was completely, utterly out of the question.

“Don’t you think you need someone on the…” Louis’ tongue darted out, licking his lips as his eyes flickered to Harry’s mouth, one eyebrow cocking up. “...inside.”

Or - Harry is a scammer who drifts from casino to casino. Louis is the new waiter who wants in on the scam.

somewhere in between

A fic by soldouthaz on AO3 | @soldouthaz on Tumblr | soldouthaz on Twitter

42k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis wakes up early. He brushes his teeth and can only stomach a piece of toast for breakfast, dressing quickly and heading for the car. He pulls into the parking lot of the Department of Dominance and Submission just as they’re unlocking the doors. It takes him all of an hour in the uncomfortable chairs to fill out the paperwork to the best and most accurate of his ability, handing it over to the receptionist as soon as he’s finished and wiping his sweaty palms on his business trousers.

There’s a high chance that within ten to fifteen business days, Louis will be matched with a dominant.

Shit.

On My Mind All The Time, Say You're Mine

A fic by Safetypinprince on AO3 | @roselouis on Tumblr | femboyIouis on Twitter

9k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“Dude, we’re inside, and it’s night time. Those don’t look as cool as you think they do.” Louis could kick himself, he sounded so stupid, but it certainly got the guy’s attention.

It was at that unfortunate moment that he noticed several other things about this hot asshole, that he hadn’t noticed just staring from afar. First, when Louis spoke to him, his gaze was kind of unfocused behind his sunglasses, and secondly, that he had a red and white cane folded up under his arm.

“I’m… Blind,” the man chuckled, awkwardly.

Louis wanted to melt into a puddle out of pure embarrassment.

“I— am so sorry. I have to go.”

“Hey, wait, wait,” the man soothed, grabbing at Louis’ shoulders before he could get away.

“I’m sorry,” Louis repeated, looking down at his shoes.

“It’s alright,” He cackled. “I get it a lot. More than you know.”

Alternatively titled: and they were roommates.

A Silent Whisper (That's Left Unsaid)

A fic by MyEnglishRose on AO3 | @lwtisloved on Tumblr | darlinlou on Twitter

50k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“So… we’re doing this?”

Louis shrugs, suddenly acting disinterested.

“Your call, Curly.”

Instead of a verbal response, Harry suddenly takes Louis’ left hand in his. The black ring seems to nag him as the fire’s light reflects its polished edges. He ignores Louis’ curious gaze as he quickly takes off one of his own rings — the rose one —, sliding it on Louis’ middle finger. It is a little large and when he lets go of his hand, Louis has to curl it into a fist so the ring doesn’t immediately fall off.

“We’ll tell them it’s a promise ring, not an actual engagement,” Harry declares, trying to ignore how warm his cheeks feel. Hopefully, it can’t be seen as he is facing away from the fireplace.

“Right… could have gotten me a fitted ring though, my Harry ten years ago was more thoughtful.”

Louis’ tone is light and teasing again. It creates a small smile on Harry’s lips.

“Someday,” he whispers before he even registers it himself.

They both ignore it.

Or. A Fake Relationship & Exes to Lovers AU ft a failed proposal ten years ago, an oblivious Harry, an overworked Louis, Zayn as the protective best friend, a meddling aunt and a lot of talks about weddings and rings.

sweet like honey

A fic by falsegoodnight on AO3 | @falsegoodnight on Tumblr | falsegoodnight on Twitter

33k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Weeks of flat shopping with their limited budget with Louis as a librarian aid and Harry as a barista and arguments about whether a balcony or extended bathroom suite were more important (Harry wanted to be able to feel the crisp night’s air and watch the sun set and Louis just wanted to take long bubble baths) led to them stumbling across the perfect fit. A small flat only ten minutes from campus with a cramped but lovely balcony and an included bath.

It’s affordable too… well, sort of. But they always manage. Louis picks up more shifts as an aid, adapting a habit of bringing his Psych textbooks and homework with him to finish in between duties, and later his script so he can quietly practice lines with little distraction.

Harry also increases his number of shifts at the cafe and valiantly endures the nasty customers who for some reason flock to their establishment like moths to a flame.

For a while, it’s enough.

Or, Harry and Louis need money and they find an unconventional solution in the form of PornHub. It’s not supposed to be a big deal.

Spoonful of Sugar

A fic by zanni_scaramouche on AO3 | @zanniscaramouche on Tumblr

42k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Harry Styles.

A name better suited for a myth than a man. Like the name of the devil, people either whisper it in fear or laugh it off as fable. Cut it open and this city’s heart doesn’t bleed red. It’s snowy white, and it pulses in the tight grip of Lucifer himself.

Louis Tomlinson cares for his family above all else, a fact that’s led him on a twisted path peddling drugs to support them. Just as he’s made the decision to jump ship, Louis gets snared between the two largest crime syndicates in the city. To keep his family safe he’s forced to trust the man that failed to keep his promise two years ago, the resident drug lord he’s unknowingly been working for, Harry Styles.

Let's Break the Internet

A fic by louizsv on AO3 | @ashleyjohnsonfanaccount on Tumblr | piccadillyplum on Twitter

9k | Explicit | Louis/OMC | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“I’ll tell you what,” Sam leans forward in his chair and steeples his fingers in front of his face, “If you actually make an account and sell nudie pics and porn for more than three months, I’ll believe you.”

Louis purses his lips, ignoring the returning blush on his cheeks at the thought of having to film himself in compromising positions or taking photos of himself without any clothes on. Raising his chin defiantly, Louis accepts the challenge.

“Fine,” he agrees, “But when I win, you have to make one too.”

Lips quirked, Sam nods and holds out a hand, “Deal.” -- Or, the one where Louis is an Only Fans baby.

in a sea of mist

A fic by tomlinvelvet on AO3 | @tomlinvelvetfics on Tumblr

126k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

A Greek Mythology/Camp Half-Blood AU where Harry is lost, the road to peace is a wretched one, and somehow, through a mist of confusion and regrets, Louis seems to be the only thing that makes sense and everything Harry needs.

---

View the other roundup posts here:

Week #1 Fic Roundup

#fics 2020

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marvelfans4blm · 4 years

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Marvel Fans 4 BLM - Rules and FAQ!

What is Marvel Fans 4 BLM?

Marvel Fans 4 BLM is a charity auction where fans offer works in exchange for donations. Our focus is to raise money for various Black Lives Matter organizations as well as focus on creating content for Black Marvel characters.

Who is allowed to participate?

All fans from any and all Marvel fandoms are welcome! We ask that if you are under 18, you do not offer or request explicit rated content.

How does it work?

Creators sign up to offer their works. Bidders then pledge donation amounts in auction-style. The winning bidder donates their pledged amount to a charity; once that donation is confirmed, the creator starts, uh, creating!

What is the schedule?

Monday 15 June - Sunday 28 June: Creator Sign Ups

Monday 29 June - Sunday 5 July: Browsing Week

Monday 6 July - Sunday 12 July: Auction Week

Sunday 19 July: Proof of Donations Due

Sunday 15 November: Check-In

Sunday 31 January 2021: Fanworks Due

More FAQ, Rules, and Resources under the cut!

What items are acceptable for creators to offer?

All creations should be centered around one or more canon Black characters in any Marvel fandom (movies, comics, TV - any Marvel adaptations!). Other characters are welcome to join the fun, as long as they are not the main focus. Shipping and Gen content alike are welcome! Creations accepted are:

- Fanfic

- Digital art (original art, moodboards, manips, edits, etc.)

- Physical art (artworks, crafts, merch, etc.)

- Podfic

- Fan vids

- Translations

- Fan labor (beta work, sensitivity reading, culture-picking, fact checking, SPAG editing, etc.)

If you’d like to offer something not listed, feel free to ask.

I wanna be a creator! Tell me more!

More details will be shared at each stage, but here’s an outline to get you started!

Creator sign-ups run from Monday 15 June to Sunday 28 June. You’ll sign up via a Google form and there you can specify what type of fanwork(s) you are offering with some relevant details like characters, pairings, and content you are willing to create in addition to other notes for bidders to see!

As well as fundraising for important causes, this event is intended to create new content for our favorite Black Marvel characters. With that in mind, we will not accept any previously published or created works. The exception to this is physical goods and crafts.

After the auction closes, we will put you in touch with the highest bidder and from there you two work together to create something great! Once you have your bidder’s prompt, you’ll have until 31 January 2021 to complete your work for them. We’ll have a check-in on 15 November but it’s up to you to follow through by the 2021 deadline. Unfortunately, failure to complete by the deadline will mean you will be unable to participate in future events - until you meet your obligation to your bidder.

You can offer up to three works for auction, but please be honest and respect your limits. We want both creators and bidders to end with a complete work and enjoy the process! For physical goods, it is up to you and your bidder to decide how to handle shipping - keep this in mind when setting your starting bidding price.

After posting, you can tag us in and any works that follow our rules will be included in our AO3 collection and featured on our Tumblr!

I wanna be a bidder! Tell me more!

From 29 June through 5 July, you will be able to view all items up for bid, as well as check out each creator’s other works to get a feel for what they can do. You may also reach out to contact individual creators if you have questions. We recommend that if you have a specific idea in mind, or a rarepair, or something the creator has never done before, that you reach out and confirm they will be able to fulfil your request before you bid on them.

From 6 July through 12 July, bidding will be open. All bids will be placed in US dollars, with a $5 minimum starting bid and a $2 minimum incremental bid. Bidding will not be anonymous. Group bids are welcome.

You may bid on as many items as you like, but please keep in mind that you cannot retract a bid, so make sure you can commit to donating the amount(s) that you bid. You may donate to any of our approved organizations listed below, or ask the mods for approval to donate to another cause that is working towards BLM goals.

For physical fanworks, whether or not your final bid includes shipping will be up to the creator. Once we receive confirmation of the donation, we’re no longer responsible for communication between creators and bidders. Be aware that for physical fanworks, creators will need your address to send you the item. If you aren’t comfortable giving out personal information, we suggest you bid on other auctions instead.

Once the auction is over, we will confirm the final amount for your winning bid(s); do not donate until you receive this confirmation. As soon as we have proof of your donation (pdf receipt that shows date, organization, and amount, all other info can be redacted) we will put you in touch with your creator. At this point, it is up to the two of you to work out how you’d like to proceed to ensure that the bid is fulfilled by 31 January 2021.

If you don’t hear from your creator after we connect you, please reach out to them yourself! If it has been a couple of months and you haven’t heard from them at all despite your efforts to get in touch, let us know and we’ll try to contact your creator on your behalf or help you assess the situation. Unfortunately, there’s always an inherent risk that a creator may fall through for various reasons. If this happens, we hope that knowing that you donated money to support an amazing cause will lessen the disappointment of not receiving a promised fanwork.

Remember that this event is designed to create content for Black Marvel characters, so please be sure to keep your requested works aligned with our Content & Conduct guidelines.

What charities will be supported?

We want participants to feel connected to where their efforts are going. There are multiple organizations linked in our Resources section below, along with master list sites that are updated regularly as new donation opportunities arise.

Creators will be allowed to specify up to three sites that they’d like their winning bidder to support with their donation. Any of the sites or organizations linked in our Resources section are acceptable. Creators can also decline to list a preference, and their winning bidder will be permitted to donate to any of the sites or organizations linked in our Resources section.

We are also open to suggestions! Other donation opportunities requested by the creator and vetted by the mods will be welcome.

Can I sign up to provide more than one offering? Can I sign up as a creator and a bidder? Can I bid on more than one offering?

The answer to all of these is an enthusiastic yes! Creators can make up to three offerings. Just be sure not to spread yourself too thin; we want everyone to have a successful participation. Do not agree to participate, either as a creator or a bidder, unless you are absolutely committed to following through.

Content & Conduct

This event is designed to spotlight Black characters in a positive way. This doesn’t mean we require fluff, smiles, and happy endings, but it does mean that for this event, we require that you think critically about what you are presenting and how that representation fits within the larger context of the way fandom treats characters of color.

All creations must be centered around one or more canon Black characters, meaning they must be the main focus of the story, artwork, etc. They should not be sidelined in favor of other characters, and if there is any shipping (which is not required, Gen creations are more than welcome) they should be in the main pairing.

This event is designed specifically to support BLM and therefore we expect all participants and creations to align with the values of the movement. To that end, we ask that you do not create or request fanworks that celebrate law enforcement or the military. This is not the appropriate event for a cop AU or similar. For characters canonically affiliated with law enforcement or the military, be critical of how those institutions are portrayed, as well as how BIPOC are treated by and within those institutions.

Some additional points to keep in mind:

- Some Marvel characters have canonical physical, mental, and emotional disabilities - including invisible ones like chronic pain and mental illness. These should be treated respectfully, with due diligence given to portraying their lived experience.

- No perpetrating anti-Black stereotypes or tropes.

- No sympathetically portrayed Hydra or other Nazi analogues.

- No explicit or romantically portrayed non-con.

- No sexual/romantic relationships between adult and minor characters.

- No sexual/romantic relationships between family members.

- All content shared publicly should be tagged appropriately and thoroughly.

Any offerings or creations that do not adhere to these guidelines will not be promoted on any of our social media platforms, and may affect your ability to participate in future events.

Resources

Creating:

Writing With Color blogs, recs, & resources

Sam Wilson Birthday Bang resource page

Guide for non-Black authors writing Black characters

Common Microaggressions

Stereotyped vs Nuanced Characters and Audience Perception

Donations:

Black Lives Matters carrd

Say Their Names carrd

BLM card master list

Homeless Black Trans women fund

Who are the mods?

@a-majesti, @awesomesnafu, @gavilansblog, @samstevebuckyhq, and @thundercakes22 are your friendly mods. We bonded together over our love for Sam Wilson, and are amongst the mods & organizers for a variety of Sam Wilson-centric spaces, including the Sam Wilson Birthday Bang, SamSteve Small Gifts, SamSteveLove on Twitter, and the Sam Wilson Appreciation discord.

I have another question!

No problem, we’d love to hear from you! Email us (marvelfans4blm at gmail) or send us an ask here on Tumblr.

**Mod note: Thank you so much to @fandomtrumpshate and @marveltrumpshate for generously sharing their resources!

#marvel #mcu #fandom events #marvelfans4blm

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calicorn · 4 years

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My experience with WeLoveFine/ForFansByFans as an artist.

This in regards to the Act 6/7 Tarot Project, which occurred from 2017 to 2018. I also want to thank @aryll for the chance to participate in such a project, and thank you for doing what you could with the group and what occurred. I realize this is a few years late, however, but it’s been bothering me ever since it occurred, and I only chose to speak my mind about it. But to summarize, the project started out as unofficial, however we were approached by FFBF in February of 2018. They were willing to sell the deck as official merchandise on their store. I have my own opinions on the company, as it’s known they underpay artists severely for their work despite selling most items for extremely high prices. A similar payment issue occurred with the Official Homestuck Zine, and one of the artists of the Tarot Project posted this in the comments: “Can relate OP. I did work for the new tarot deck (using my throwaway account for that reason lol) but we aren’t being paid at all. No money. The only compensation we are getting is a free deck and an exclusive enamel pin which is pennies compared to what they’ll be making off us. One might argue that the project wasn’t supposed to be printed so I should be grateful it’s even happening but I expected a big company like WLF to y’know, pay artists... The only reason I agreed to letting them use my art was to get a free deck. I also honestly dislike WLF’s artist compensation policy. My art has been selected from the Fan Forge before and the idea of being able to sell my HS art was so appealing, but the execution is so poor. They don’t pay us until we sell $100 worth of shirts, but that is so difficult in a market that is so oversaturated. I wish they like, cycled designs in and out. Instead, they just keep adding more and more designs, drowning out old ones and just flooding the entire market. Plus, they get to withhold money from artists until every hundred-dollar mark. I can’t imagine how much they’ve made off of small time artists that get their design accepted and sell maybe 3 shirts since it happens so often.” So. What exactly happened? I’ll explain under the cut given there’s a decent amount to go through. Though to summarize; WeLoveFine/ForFansByFans is an extremely egregious company that does not value their artists whatsoever and will do what they can to pay them as little as possible. Please support said artists on sites that actually do give them fair pay, or support them via commissions.

There were a few bumps during the tarot project, though overall it went extremely smoothly and we released our art to the Tumblr blog. FFBF approached us during this time, and we were all given the option to agree to continue working or the project or decline. However, this is what was an important piece to the initial email sent out by the Tarot Project team; • Each participating artist will get a full finalized copy of the deck, COMPLETELY free. This includes packaging and free shipping of the deck. • Each participating artist will get an enamel pin commemorating the project, EXCLUSIVE to the artists of this project only, with a custom design as chosen/designed by us. What will most likely occur is that everyone who wishes to submit a design for the pin can do so, and as a group, we will vote on which one we would like to submit as our final design choice! • Each participating artist will receive FULL COMMISSION on any further usage of their artwork by What Pumpkin or For Fans By Fans. For example, if they release a mini-print, wallet, etc. with your design on it, you will be paid in commission for the usage of your work. (If you have ANY questions about how this would work, please don’t hesitate to ask and I will hook you up ASAP with a For fans By Fans representative who can go over the details with you further.) • Each participating artist will have a window in which they will be able to make updates or revisions to their illustration(s) before the project is released. This means that if something is bugging you about your work, or you feel that it does not reflect your current level of skill, you will be allowed to resubmit a new version before the project officially goes up as merchandise! So, the majority of us agreed to continue forward with the project and retouch our cards. From there, things continued, and we were emailed by a FFBF representative on occasion to discuss how the process went, as well as various other things that required discussion, plus asked to assist in the promotion of the 4/13/18 celebration on their website. This is where the issues began and would continue through the entire project, with it still being seen post-release of the cards. We were sent an email in April of 2018 requiring information to be provided in the accompanying booklet of the deck, as well as being asked to answer various interview questions that would be posted to FFBF’s Tumblr, and most importantly; the Commission Agreement form. So what did it entail? This was the form I was sent. My interview was never posted. I have looked multiple times and never seen evidence it ever was, either. And this was also included in the email; • We are going to be hosting a pre-order bonus promotion surrounding the new tarot set, starting 413. Anyone who pre-orders the set will be entered into a drawing to win a commissioned art piece from a random artist who worked on the tarot. You will be paid by us, FFBF, for this commission work in the amount of $50. So we had to draw more art with a very close deadline date to obtain a payment for art we had already created, both of which should have easily been worth more than $50 total. I signed without thinking, which looking back on, was incredibly idiotic, despite my own worries over the fact that even at the time, $50 did not seem like a lot. Progress continued. An exclusive pin was designed and created for the artists, though the production and delivery dates would be delayed to September of 2018. During this time, we were also invited to join FFBF’s Discord server as well, which I am still in, though am not active in. And eventually, we were provided a Commission Schedule. I do not know if I’m missing an email between the enamel pin shipment and this schedule post, however I cannot find any trace of it. This is the Commission Schedule email, and what it consists of. Of course I found it strange, because looking at the schedule, I could never find any sign of myself having been added. Obviously I should have replied then and there due to that, but I didn’t, and that is my own fault. But that rolled into October of 2018, when I did finally email back and asked about why I hadn’t been added. I was sent back this; “Hi Calicorn! I’m sorry I misinterpreted your response as not wanting to proceed:“3) I am completely willing to sign up for being one of the artists for the commission raffle event, though I must say $50 would be underpaying considering most artists’ base prices for commissions tend to be $50 or more.” Then I sent “If you do not want to be part of the give-away, that’s totally ok. We are offering $50 for these commissions but if that price is not within your comfort, there’s no pressure!” You never came back with anything so I didn’t want to proceed since it seemed like you were uncomfortable with the amount we were offering – I’m really sorry if I misunderstood! The giveaway is actually over I’m sorry to say but I appreciate you following up about this. I wonder why the message went into spam.. Please let me know if there is anything else I can do for you Thanks!” And one of the most glaring issues popped up in October as well. When we finally received our decks in the mail, our project’s Discord group began to discuss the fact that our emails had been printed in the pamphlet without our permission. Mind you, this was also a project that included minors in it, and our emails had now been given away without our knowledge. Another issue with the pamphlets is the fact that FFBF had reused the same text from the Homestuck Kickstarter Tarot Deck, as seen on the New Booklet/Old Booklet, and here/here. FFBF then decided to remove the booklet from every outgoing tarot that gets ordered, with customers receiving a corrected digital PDF that was coordinated in its creation by Aryll. And apparently previous customers would receive this PDF via emails, as well as a link to download it on the product page. Thankfully FFBF seemed to have at least posted the PDF on the product page, however this seems extremely lazy compared to simply including the newly reprinted booklet. Though this may not be the last of issues, as I stumbled across the Amazon product page for our tarot deck earlier before typing this all up. To say the least, it is extremely infuriating, especially given the quality of the cards and how many people of complained about them on both Amazon and FFBF’s websites. Of course we, the artists, were never alerted to this development, nor were we paid for such.

But overall, we were hardly paid for our time and effort during this project, which is a massive disappointment, but perhaps that much should have been expected from WeloveFine/ForFansByFans, who are notorious for underpaying artists and overpricing products. Their actions are inexcusable, and I am still both disappointed and furious with this company as a whole. But thank you for reading, and please spread the word, as I do not want FFBF’s actions to go unnoticed.

#homestuck #welovefine #forfansbyfans #act6tarotproject

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businessplanningsolutions · 4 years

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The Authority of Money

During my recent trip to the U.S., I decided to play tourist and visit a few places that I had never been. One of the more interesting destinations was the Money Museum at the Federal Reserve Bank in Chicago, Illinois.

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No matter how much it’s talked about in the news and politics, I really had no idea exactly what the Federal Reserve Bank does. I know its name is printed at the top of all of my Benjamin, but that was about the extent of my knowledge. With the help of a friend I’ve had for 40 years, I signed up to take the tour and get a glimpse behind the scenes of the place that money calls home. Knowing the amount of money that passes through the place and seeing the turn of the century style conjured up images of caper stories the whole time I was there. I couldn’t help but think

“okay, if I was going to rob this place, how would I do it?”

The Guided Tour

While it was interesting to learn what the Federal Reserve Bank does, the real beauty of the visit was a special tour through some of the innards with a guide who knows trivia that spans centuries and literally trillions of dollars. Jerry, our tour guide, was a fascinating man who returned from the boredom of retirement to be a tour guide, talking guests through the museum.

He wore a light green and white suit, looking like he too had been minted by the U.S. government decades ago. Over the course of the next hour or so, he shared background on the Fed, stories and more numbers than anyone should be able to recall.

In the main museum, we got to see a number of displays about the history of currency in the United States, including a couple of displays of One Million Dollars:

We also got to learn a bit about what the Federal Reserve Bank does in a video that was put together in-house – nice, but a bit dry. I’m sharing what I took away from it, which may be entirely inaccurate, due to my failing memory.

The Fed’s charter is to “oversee how monetary policy is implemented.” It comes down to three primary functions:

they oversee how payment systems work, so the way checks are cashed, the way credit card and online transactions take place;

they are the regulators of banks in the U.S., so they’re the ones who go in and audit banks to make sure they’re not breaking any laws and

The most visible function is that they’re responsible for moving cash around.

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For most of us, that’s the fascinating part of what they do. Every day of the week, shipments of currency come from the United States mints to the Federal Reserve Bank. The Fed then ships that currency out to the banks that need it. While the larger bills are transported by armored car every day, the $1 bills are packed into unmarked semi-trailers and driven to the building to prepare them for distribution.

I guess it’s not much different from shipping a truckload of iPhones to a warehouse, but somehow it SEEMS riskier that they do that.

On the flip side of things, the Fed gets deliveries of cash from the banks, which is counted and bundled for re-distribution. This is also the step that includes pulling old and worn bills out of circulation. One of the most surprising things I saw was how little wear a bill needs for it to be taken out of circulation. Most of the bills in your wallet are probably not going to pass.

About $17 Million in currency is destroyed every day at the Chicago Fed, which is one of 12 Federal Reserve Banks. The Money Museum even gives you a small bag of shredded money as a souvenir, which contains the remnants of currency equal to about $370. One of the more interesting facts about this shredded currency is that until the mid 20th century, the shredded bills were burned, but because of the toxic chemicals used in the ink, they had to stop doing that.

It’s now shipped off to special landfills for toxic materials. Kind of makes you worry about handling it every day, doesn’t it?

A Personal Tour

I had the pleasure of getting a more personal tour, including a trip to see the money sorting and counting machines (through a thick glass window, of course), but sadly the machines weren’t operating that day.

Those functions are visible from an additional section of the Museum that was closed off in 2001, so not many people get to visit it.

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My other favorite part was looking at the high denomination currency that’s no longer in circulation. One display has a $10,000 bill in it, along with several other bills from the 200-ish years of American money printing. The 10k bills were printed until the 1940s and discontinued when it became apparent that virtually all bills above $1000 in denomination were being used for criminal purposes.

Just over 300 of the bills survive, most of which are in the hands of collectors. About 9 years ago, one of them actually arrived at the Fed through normal banking channels! Someone had gotten hold of it (perhaps stored in a box in an attic somewhere), taken it to their local bank and deposited it. With a quick bit of research, they’d have discovered it was worth close to 10 times that to a collector.

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I’d love to make a few suggestions to the guys at the Money Museum as improvements, but since this is solely for PR (admission is free), I’m sure they are limited in how much they invest in the tour. Although considering the constant saber-rattling in Congress about the Fed, maybe they could use a bit stronger PR push.

One of my biggest pet peeves with 90% of museums is that no one really thinks about photos. Placement of light fixtures to minimize glare, setting up obstruction free angles and allowing guests the chance to pose without impeding traffic are critical factors for any museum and most of them don’t think that through.

Re-open the closed section of the tour. Money counting and shredding is one of the more fascinating things that happens at the Fed and no one gets to see it. I get it. 9/11 happened. But the security checks and procedures keep out bank robbers, so I’m sure they can be effective for other people, too.

Tell some stories. Interactive displays are all well and good, but you’ve got an asset like Jerry who has hundreds of stories in his arsenal. I’m the only one who heard any of them. Everyone else just heard him introduce the video and rattle off a lot of facts and figures.

Stories = excitement. Spend a little money and create a new video to share some of these stories in the context of explaining what the Fed does.

All unsolicited advice, of course, but I found the place fascinating and woefully under-utilized. As an average tourist, there just wouldn’t be a lot to hold my interest without some upgrades.

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pengy-pop · 4 years

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Writing Dump: Bederia/DressedInPinkShipping

What the tin says, asdfghfds this is mostly just random, disjointed pieces of writing i've done for the Bederia ship that I just have to admit to myself i'm likely never going to finish anytime soon and need to at least get out SOMEWHERE.

Maybe someday i’ll come back to these and finish them, but for now, I just kinda want ‘em outta sight, outta mind ahaaa.

(If context is require for any of these snippets, it will be included)

(Longer pieces WILL be getting their own individual posts; just to keep things condensed and a little cleaner)

Regardless, though, I hope you can find even a little bit of brief enjoyment from these!

Context: Roommates AU i once discussed with a friend of mine involving a Psychic Bede whose powers latched on to their roommate. Gloria. He is constantly having dreams about her future. it turns out She is apparently very accident-prone and it is STRESSING HIM OUT. also; they’re in love with each other. this was just a small disjointed practise piece to get a feel of what the dynamic in this particular AU would be like. Please enjoy the heated make out session.

This went way beyond anything platonic.

Indeed, making out with your roommate of almost five months on your shared couch was the very opposite of ‘platonic,’ and he really shouldn’t be engaging in this kind of behaviour; but—

God, Gloria was irritatingly soft. and it was highly distracting. Her lips were surprisingly soft, too, for once, despite the fact that he hardly ever saw her use any kind of lip balm.

Had she been counting on this?

Gloria’s hand snaked up into his hair, and he promptly forgot his previous train of thought in favor of making a horrifyingly embarrassing noise into Gloria’s mouth. He began to pull away from her mouth to, he thinks, be utterly mortified; but Gloria didn’t give him the chance to as she followed him, taking the opportunity to deepen the kiss, her tongue swiping against his own. A sensation that wasn’t quite as bad as he thought it would be, if the way his heart thrummed in his chest was anything to go by. In retaliation, he began tentatively running his hand up and down her waist, resulting in a hum from Gloria that Bede delighted in.

He wanted to hear more noises like that from her.

He pulled himself away from her mouth, the two of them sucking in heavy breaths of air. Then, in an uncharacteristic act of boldness, even to himself; Bede kissed Gloria beneath her ear, along her jaw. She leaned into him in response, having essentially crawled into his lap by this point, and the feeling of her body arched against his own as she squirmed against his ministrations certainly wasn’t helping to keep any of his repressed urges in check. His body was acting on instinct, and the vague images he’d seen last night in his dream; but he wasn’t sure how long pure instinct and vague images would hold up.

He pressed his lips to her neck, mirroring what he saw in his earlier dream , and Gloria’s reaction was immediate. A stuttered whine left her, and he found himself being pressed even firmer against Gloria, her arms enveloping him. He was spurred on, usuing his limited knowledge and Gloria’s reactions to guide him along as he kissed at her pulse and collarbone; even daring to gently bite the sensitive skin, an action that made Gloria shiver; and set Bede ablaze.

Truly; only Gloria could find a way to bring out the absolute most degenerative part of him. He thought, absently, as he continued to revel in the effect he was having on her.

As he continued to lathe her neck with attention, it was then, however, that Gloria suddenly decided to push things further. She gently ground her hips against his purposefully—and Bede jolted in response. Gloria stilled; pulling him away from her neck to look at him.

“Was that too much?” Gloria’s brows were knitted in concern, despite her flushed face and heavy breathing. “Do you wanna stop?”

No. Never, when it comes to you.

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Wyndon was known for it’s awful weather. It was rare for Wyndon to see a day that wasn’t cloudy or rainy.

Today had been no exception to this; as even though the day’s forecast had been predicted to be a rare sunny day; a terrible thunderstorm raged on outside as two unfortunate souls who had been caught in the abrupt downpour sprinted inside the lobby of a Wyndon apartment building for refuge. Breathing heavily, the soaking pair had trudged across the warm lobby, hardly caring about trail of water they left behind them as they dragged themselves into an elevator and, eventually, down a hallway and to an apartment door.

Gloria cursed under her breath as she fumbled through her bag to produce her key-card, doing her best to dry it off as much as possible as she placed it against the reader; her male companion slamming the door open the second the light turned green and trudging inside with a huff. Gloria followed behind, letting out her own huff of frustration as she flicked on the light.

“—MAN, that was a rush. What a damn day for them to be wrong about the forecast, huh, Bede?” Gloria jabbed the taller boy in the arm as she strode past him, stopping to turn back to him when she heard his indignant scoff, letting out a snort at her boyfriend’s dishevelled appearance. “Y’look like a drowned Wooloo.” Bede shot her a glare as he ran a hand through his dripping hair.

“And you look like a diseased Greedent.” He stepped forward, stopping directly in front of Gloria in the small entrance, her grin never faltering even as she adjusted herself to look up at him. “—Now that we’ve settled the matter of our appearances; if you wouldn’t mind getting out of my way; i’ll be going to use your shower.” He went to push past her, but she threw out her arms, dropping her bag in the process; to block him further. He raised an eyebrow down at her.

“Hold on. This is MY apartment; I get first dibs on a shower.” Her gaze was incredulous. Bede didn’t flinch.

“Yes, well, guest typically trumps apartment-owner, and you wouldn’t want to be a bad host now, would you, Gloria?” His tone dropped when he said her name, and Leaning forward, he loomed over her, droplets from his hair plopping down onto her forehead as he held her gaze intensely, that smug, shit-eating, and also very attractive and distracting smile ever-present across his features. There was a heated silence between them for a moment; but Before she could process whether or not she wanted to kiss him (she did), Gloria found herself ripped from her stupor; pushed aside as Bede stepped over her belongings and strided towards the bathroom. She reached him again just in time to get the bathroom door shut in her face. With a huff, she pounded her fist on the door with more force than was necessary.

“Hey; gimme your clothes, at least. I’ll dry them off.” There was a brief moment of silence where Gloria could hear the shuffling of clothes before the door opened just enough for Bede’s arm to reach out and shove his wet clothes into her arms.

He didn’t give her a response; opting to instead close the door again and start the shower; leaving Gloria by herself once again. With a tired sigh, she left to go retrieve her bag from the hallway and and get into a change of clothes herself.

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When Gloria got home, she found there was a distinct lack of her husband anywhere to be seen; which she found unusual. Typically, when she returned home, she could easily find Bede off in either their kitchen, making them both something for dinner, or sitting idly in their living room, waiting for her return. On some very rare occasions, though, he would come home late, usually from a rehearsal that went overtime or if he’d been filling in a particularly large amount of paperwork for his gym, though the fact that the lights in the house were on told Gloria this was not the case. Upon dumping her sports bag on a chair, she found that the kitchen was also suspiciously bare, without a trace of any cooking being done. Delving further into their shared home, she found the only light in the hallway was coming from underneath the bathroom door. At the lack of noise coming from a shower though, Gloria curiously nudged open the door, enough for her to poke her head in to investigate.

The sight of Bede in the bath was enough to surprise Gloria into alerting Bede to her presence as he met her eyes.

“Oh; you’re back a bit earlier than I was expecting. welcome home.” Gloria grinned, her eyes now sparkling with a mirth Bede knew was coming.

Welcome home, indeed. Gloria thought as her eyes scanned over the scene before her;

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This wasn’t really how Bede had planned for the night to go. Really, he hadn’t even wanted to show up to this frivoulous ‘gathering’; and he’s still kicking himself over the fact that he let Gloria forcibly drag him along with her to it. Because, really, since WHEN did Gloria have that kind of power over him?

He supposed the when and how didn’t really matter anymore, however; as his current predicament was much more worthy of taking up space in his brain.

Gloria was drunk. INCREDIBLY drunk. Granted, he definitely wasn’t completely sober himself, at the moment. If he was, he (probably) would have been LONG gone by now. (At least, thats what he liked to tell himself.) But Gloria was on a whole different level; compared to him. It was obvious, even without her audible exuberance; it was in the way her oversized dollar store cardigan sloppily hung off her shoulders, the way her half undone ponytail hung over her back, the brown locks threatening to turn into one giant mass of knots that made Bede want to recoil from even just looking at it; and finally, the way her tanned skin was flushed red and had taken on a sheen of sweat in her activity. He watched from behind his own drink as she chugged down her latest order with a startling speed he would have been mildly impressed by if he weren’t so distracted by the way a bead of sweat ran along her jawline, or how she squeezed her thighs together as she stubbornly committed herself to drinking the whole glass in one go.

He was suddenly and haphazardly wrenched from his perverse observations of Gloria, however; as she slammed down her now-empty glass triumphantly, causing him to flinch ever so slightly at the impact. Gloria’s trademark, too-large grin stretched across her features as she looked over to Hop, who, surprisingly, didn’t seem to be finding much amusement out of the night’s shenanigans.

“Y’lose again, Hop! Seriously, s’like ya not even TRYIN’ t’beat me!” Hop quirked an eyebrow her way, drinking at a much more sane pace than Gloria.

“Again? Glo, I didn’t even know we were competin’ in the first place.” Despite his words, Hop seemed like he’d been in this exact position before. This irritated Bede, for reasons he refused to acknowledged. He downed the rest of his drink unceremoniously. This action didn’t go unnoticed by Marnie, who sat across from him at the group’s shared table. She looked at him from beneath long lashes for a moment, before they just as quickly flicked back away again. This also irritated Bede.

“Something you wish to say?” He challenged. Marnie simply hummed and reached for the bottle of wine that sat between them both; topping off her glass with a shrug.

“Not really. Jus’ thinkin’ you’ve been s’prisingly quiet.”

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Bede was currently in a pleasant haze. He and Gloria had been traveling from region to region in hopes of becoming stronger; and their travels had most recently led them to the Battle frontier in Johto, where they had managed to dominate together in the double battles; their shared might as a team had ensured their swift victory.

Later that night, Gloria had invited him over to her room to ‘celebrate their hard-earned victory’ as she had put it; and when he’d shown up at her door, she proudly revealed the wide array of room-service she’d ordered for the two of them to share, a selection of both their favourite foods as well as an ice bucket filled with three wine bottles. When Bede questioned her on it, Gloria had thrown him a smug smile. and answered:

“I figured a little bit of splurging couldn’t hurt. Besides, we totally deserve it after all.”

And, well, who was Bede to deny himself a generous spread like this?

So, the two of them indulged, eating together while reminiscing over their recent victories.

And after the food, came the alcohol. Gloria said she couldn’t decide what exactly she had wanted, so she’d opted to instead pick her top three choices of what sounded the nicest.

All of which, evidently, were very sweet, and decadent. Regardless, the two had soon finished off almost an entire bottle of Custap berry wine, sitting comfortably on Gloria’s hotel bed, the gentle glow of the bedside lamp warming the atmosphere further.

Which led him to where they were right now.

Bede could vaguely remember reading on the bottle that the wine had been fermented by one of the winery’s best Shuckles, and it was certainly obvious by just how potent it was. It was enough to make even him feel a bit tipsy.

Tipsy enough to make him feel pleasantly warm and loose. He looked to Gloria, watching as the brunette swirled around the liquid in her glass before downing its contents confidently; exhaling with a satisfied gasp. She then met his eyes, and a teasing grin spread across her face.

What was she planning?

“What’re ya lookin’ at, Bedey?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer before she continued. “Y’see somethin’ you like?” Bede shook his head, the smallest hints of a smile spreading across his own face at Gloria’s tipsy state; the way her skin flushed, and how her distinctly unique natural accent slipped through.

“Not particularly.” He lied. Setting her glass down on a nearby drawer, Gloria pouted, an action that Bede found quite adorable. A simple thought that, had he been sober, he would absolutely not have accepted.

“Whaat? Then what’re ya doin’?” She leaned towards him, looking at him with a comical expression. “You’re alone with a cute girl and you’re NOT starin’ at her? What kinda guy are you?”

“Firstly; it’s rather presumptous of you to call yourself ‘cute.’ Secondly, you make it sound like you WANT me to stare at you.” He finished the rest of his glass, eyes closing to properly enjoy the expensive wine. When he re-opened his eyes, he found Gloria staring silently at him this time. He quirked an eyebrow at her, and he watched the way she ran her tongue over her bottom lip without a shred of subtlety. She shifted from her spot on the bed.

“…’An what if I did?” She looked back up to his face again, her eyes having traveled down the expanse of his person; and her expression was what could only be described as hopeful. Bede swallowed; a new heat blooming in the pit of his stomach, and He didn’t miss the way Gloria watched him the entire time, drinking in his every move.

“Well; I suppose that would imply you were attracted to me. Which, honestly, I wouldn’t blame you. However, considering its coming from YOU; of all people—It’s a rather poor attempt at getting into my head, Gloria. I assumed you were better than this.” Looking down to his own glass,

That is, until he felt Gloria’s calloused hand slip under his chin and lift his face back to look at her again; where her face was now dangerously close to his.

his heart-rate picked up at her heavy expression.

“S’not a joke. I really do think you’re pretty, y’know.” Her eyelids lowered. Eyes slowly and deliberately trailed down to look at his lips; fingers lightly tracing the underside of his chin to run along his jaw. Bede sucked in a breath.

“Wouldn’t lie ‘bout this sorta thing, Bede.”

Oh.

Gloria leaned forward, eyes still locked on Bede’s parted lips, hints of the sweet wine on her breath invading his senses and making him feel dizzy as she continued to inch forward agonizingly and teasingly slowly.

And then they were kissing, and Bede burned. His body acting on some strange instinct as he pushed his lips firmer against her feather-light ones, seeking more of her as she mumbled against his mouth.

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Bede would be the first to say, out loud, that the Galar Gala was frivolous. It was hardly anything more than a superficial event funded by the higher ups of the Galar league to show off their prized gym leaders and champion to the public as though they were show-ponies at a fair. He despised it.

However…He would also be the first to admit, that the Galar Gala was somewhat of a necessary frivolity. To be seen is to gain attention; and attention is something that was required for an elite gym leader such as himself. It was beneficial to his illustrious career to be well-liked by others, and while he hated needing to bend himself to the will of others, his mentor had once taught him the benefits of doing so in moderation. And so with her help, he had adopted a somewhat-agreeable public persona to work with.

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#Pengy Squawks #Pengy Writes #Bederia #dressedinpinkshipping #unfinished works

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newstfionline · 3 years

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Wednesday, May 19, 2021

Changed by pandemic, many workers won’t return to old jobs (AP) There’s a wild card in the push to return to post-pandemic life: Many workers don’t want to go back to the jobs they once had. Layoffs and lockdowns, combined with enhanced unemployment benefits and stimulus checks, gave many Americans the time and the financial cushion to rethink their careers. Their former employers are hiring again — and some, like Uber and McDonald’s, are offering higher pay—but workers remain hesitant. Employers and business groups argue that the $300-per-week federal unemployment supplement gives recipients less incentive to look for work. But Heidi Shierholz, a senior economist who researches low- and middle-income workers with the Economic Policy Institute, said health concerns and child care responsibilities seem to be the main reasons holding workers back. In April, she said, at least 25% of U.S. schools weren’t offering in-person learning, forcing many parents to stay home. And health concerns could gain new urgency for some workers now that the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has said fully vaccinated people can stop wearing masks in most settings. Some workers say the pandemic helped them prioritize their mental and physical health. And in a tight labor market, some workers are also finding that if they hold out, they might get a better job than the one they left.

Unhealthy Dose of Litigation (CNN) It’s not personal, it’s just business. Tell that to tens of thousands of individuals sued by hospitals for ‘medical debt’ they have no way of ever paying. Community Health Systems, Inc. (CHS) is one of America’s largest hospital chains. A CNN investigation found that since March 2020, company-owned hospitals filed at least 19,000 lawsuits against their patients over allegedly unpaid medical bills, even as other hospitals around the country have curtailed similar lawsuits during the pandemic. CHS’s 84 hospitals are concentrated in the South, but stretch across 16 states from Alaska to Key West, Florida. The hospitals have sued patients for as little as $201 and as much as $162,000. Most defendants didn’t hire a lawyer or fight the lawsuits, and judges often rendered a default judgment in the hospital’s favor. Attorney’s fees and interest are often tacked on. Once a court rules against a defendant, a hospital can proceed to put a lien on the defendant’s house or garnish part of their wages. Many garnishments were against people working for low-wage employers like Walmart. A researcher who has studied hospital lawsuits said that it’s typical for hospitals that sue patients to only make a tiny fraction of their revenue from those lawsuits. “It’s not keeping the lights on for the hospitals—they don’t need to be doing this,” she said. “But for the patients... They’re choosing between medical care and food.”

Argentina Halts Beef Exports for 30 Days to Contain Prices (Bloomberg) Argentina’s government is limiting exports of beef, a staple in the country, in the latest unorthodox move to try to contain runaway inflation that’s approaching 50% annually. President Alberto Fernandez told a key beef export association that they won’t be allowed to sell the product abroad for 30 days, according to a Production Ministry statement released late Monday. “The president expressed his concern over the sustained growth in domestic beef prices over the last few months,” according to the statement. The country’s beef exports in 2020 amounted to roughly $3 billion, but the government may be more focused on the political cost of falling domestic consumption.

Spain Turns to Corruption Rehab for Officials Who Can’t Stop Stealing (NYT) Carlos Alburquerque isn’t your typical rehab candidate. He’s a 75-year-old grandfather living in Córdoba, a city in southern Spain. He was a town notary before he retired in 2015. He hasn’t touched drugs or alcohol in years. But his isn’t your typical rehab program: It’s an 11-month boot camp to reform corrupt Spanish officials and “reinsert” them into mainstream society. “Repairing the damage is what is left for me in this life,” said Mr. Alburquerque, who is serving a four-year prison sentence for stealing around 400,000 euros, nearly a half a million dollars, in his work drawing up contracts and deeds. That such a program exists in Spain may say much about the country’s belief in second chances as it does about how corruption has captured the public imagination here. Flip open a newspaper or turn on the radio: You will hear of schemes, scandals and skulduggery which almost always lead back to the public purse. According to Ángel Luis Ortiz, a former judge who now runs Spain’s prisons, the boom-bust cycles of Spain’s economy had led it to a long history of fraudsters and betrayals of public trust, he said. But at least, corruption rates in Spain were no worse than in other European nations, Mr. Ortiz said, just 5 percent of all crimes.

Russia’s northernmost base projects its power across Arctic (AP) During the Cold War, Russia’s Nagurskoye airbase was little more than a runway, a weather station and a communications outpost in the Franz Josef Land archipelago. It was a remote and desolate home mostly for polar bears, where temperatures plunge in winter to minus-42 Celsius (43 degrees below zero Fahrenheit) and the snow only disappears from August to mid-September. Now, Russia’s northernmost military base is bristling with missiles and radar and its extended runway can handle all types of aircraft, including nuclear-capable strategic bombers, projecting Moscow’s power and influence across the Arctic amid intensifying international competition for the region’s vast resources. Russia has sought to assert its influence over wide areas of the Arctic in competition with the United States, Canada, Denmark and Norway as shrinking polar ice from the warming planet offers new opportunities for resources and shipping routes. China also has shown an increasing interest in the region, believed to hold up to one-fourth of the Earth’s undiscovered oil and gas.

Cyclone kills 19 in India, heavy rains lash parts of Gujarat state (Reuters) A cyclone on India’s west coast has killed at least 19 people and damaged infrastructure and agriculture, while heavy rains continued to lash some regions even as weather officials said on Tuesday that the storm’s intensity had weakened. The cyclone Tauktae, which made landfall in the western state of Gujarat late on Monday, has hit power supply in 2,400 villages in the state as a thousand electricity pylons were damaged, Chief Minister Vijay Rupani said in a media address. Nearly 160 roads have been destroyed, 40,000 trees uprooted and several houses damaged, Rupani added.

India reports record day of virus deaths as cases level off (AP) India’s total virus cases since the pandemic began swept past 25 million on Tuesday as the country registered more than 260,000 new cases and a record 4,329 fatalities in the past 24 hours. The numbers continue a trend of falling cases after infections dipped below 300,000 for the first time in weeks on Monday. Active cases in the country also decreased by more than 165,000 on Tuesday—the biggest dip in weeks. But deaths have continued to rise and hospitals are still swamped by patients. Infections in India have surged since February in a disastrous turn blamed on more contagious variants as well as government decisions to allow massive crowds to gather for religious festivals and political rallies.

In Gaza, grief and destruction (Washington Post) In a conflict already marked by harrowing scenes of tragedy, one image stood out. Rescuers in Gaza City on Sunday pulled out Suzy Eshkuntana, a 6-year-old, from the rubble of a building that had once been her home, but which was flattened by Israeli airstrikes. She was covered in dust but alive. Her mother and all four of her siblings were dead. It’s not clear why the Eshkuntanas’ home was brought crashing down. Israeli authorities told reporters that they had targeted a network of tunnels used by Hamas militants that may have run beneath the area where the family lived. “The collapse of the tunnel system,” Reuters reported, “caused the houses above to collapse and led to unintended civilian casualties, the military said.” In Israel’s telling, there are many more “unintended” casualties in Gaza. According to local Health Ministry officials, the death toll in Gaza climbed to 212 people, including 61 children and 36 women, as fighting entered its second week. Gaza is one of the most densely populated areas in the world, home to some 2.1 million people, the majority of whom are classified as refugees by the United Nations. That’s a legacy of the displacements that followed Israel’s creation in 1948 and the 1967 Arab-Israeli War. Children make up about half of Gaza’s population. The territory has been under Israeli blockade since 2007, after Hamas took power following a rift within the Palestinian Authority. “Living conditions in Gaza are bleak: 95 percent of the population does not have access to clean water, according to [the United Nations], and electricity shortages periodically bring life to a halt,” my colleagues reported. “The territory has one of the highest unemployment rates in the world, World Bank statistics show, and the United Nations estimates that roughly 80 percent of the population relies on international aid to survive and access basic services.”

The New Arab Street: Online, Global and Growing (NYT) The video traveled at 4G speed, leapfrogging across international borders, social media platforms and social justice movements: a young Palestinian woman in the East Jerusalem neighborhood of Sheikh Jarrah, shouting in furious English at a Jewish man, “You are stealing my house!” “If I don’t steal it, someone else will steal it,” he retorts. Within days—as Israel bombed the coastal territory of Gaza, Palestinian militants there launched rockets at Israel, and Arab and Jewish mobs faced off in Israeli cities—the video had rocketed from young Palestinians’ social media feeds into the Arab diaspora, then lit up the internet, kindling outrage around the world. It used to be that when Palestinians were under fire, protests would follow in the streets of Arab cities. That potential for combustion forced Middle Eastern and Western leaders to keep a wary eye on the temperature of what was called the “Arab street.” This time, a week into an Israeli bombing campaign that has killed 212 Palestinians in Gaza, the reaction from Arab capitals has been muted and protests small and scattered. Instead, solidarity with the Palestinians has shifted online and gone global, a virtual Arab street that has the potential to have a wider impact than the ones in Middle Eastern cities. The online protesters have linked arms with popular movements for minority rights such as Black Lives Matter, seeking to reclaim the narrative from the mainstream media and picking up support in Western countries that have reflexively supported Israel.

Ransomware hits AXA units in Asia, Irish healthcare (AP) The Thai affiliate of Paris-based insurance company AXA said Tuesday it is investigating a ransomware attack by Russian-speaking cybercriminals that has affected operations in Thailand, Malaysia, Hong Kong and the Philippines. Meanwhile, a cyberattack on a public health provider in New Zealand took down information systems across five hospitals, forcing staff to cancel some elective surgeries and creating all sorts of other problems. It was unclear if the event was linked to a cyberattack that has nearly paralyzed Ireland’s national healthcare IT systems. The Irish government’s decision not to pay the criminals means hospitals won’t have access to patient records—and must resort mostly to handwritten notes—until painstaking efforts are complete to restore thousands of computer servers from backups.

The Places Ranked Best for Expats in 2021 (Bloomberg) Taiwan, Mexico and Costa Rica have been ranked as the top spots to live and work abroad in 2021, based on their cost of living, ease of settling in and overall quality of life. The U.S. was ranked only 34th out of 59 places, largely because of how expats viewed quality of life in America, according to a new survey published Tuesday. Taiwan topped the charts for the third year in a row in the survey of 12,420 expats conducted by InterNations, a Munich-based expat network with about 4 million members. The top 10: Taiwan, Mexico, Costa Rica, Malaysia, Portugal, New Zealand, Australia, Ecuador, Canada, Vietnam.

#headlines #news

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elopez7228 · 4 years

Text

Scenic Route 22/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

"What does that give us?" Leia asked, looking over Rose's shoulder as she typed.

They were working in what could only be called a basement. Daylight crept through a dusty air vent, struggling to illuminate the room. Inside sat several tables, all of which were covered with some combination of food containers, dossiers, loose leaf papers and computer equipment.

A third member, a thirty-something blonde woman named Kaydel Connix, was perched on the used antique sofa on the opposite side of the room. Every now and then she took a sip from a can of Dr. Pepper.

“Not bad,” Rose replied. “Our videos generated some buzz online but the articles weren’t too widely shared. Ecology did a blog post on the First Order’s building projects which was picked up by WWF and Greenpeace. It was shared on Twitter a couple thousand times including by a few celebrities. But that’s not enough. The donation petition circling among university faculty will only give us ten or twenty thousand dollars at most. It’ll barely be enough to cover litigation costs if the plan falls through.”

“We will win,” Leia assured her, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. “And when we do, the damages that FORCE will be responsible for will easily cost millions, believe me.”

Rose turned to face her aging mentor. “Leia, what if we don’t make it this time?”

Leia resisted the urge to answer indirectly, preferably with a metaphor. She could tell that Rose needed something more, a moment of honesty from the heart. She closed her eyes briefly, centering herself.

“Then we start over, we seek allies elsewhere. We are the spark of hope, that will light the fire, that will burn the First Order down.”

Rose nodded, pursing her lips. The stakes were high. All their forces had been on the ground for months, setting the stage for the ultimate blow that would take this multinational corporation down. They were everywhere: reaching out to PR personnel, leading demonstrations in the streets, blasting their message on social media, speaking to local officials, and even doing international relations. Their entire strategy rested on the element of surprise and the high volume of media attention that the results of the trial would achieve. If the chain of events faltered even slightly, FORCE would have an unequivocal victory.

But as the big day approached, their little band of rebels looked ever weaker.

Their secret informant and metaphorical coal mine canary, Galen Erso, risked his livelihood every day. His true identity was only known by the Skywalkers and their lawyer, Amilyn. He was at the mercy of Hux and Phasma. They ran a tight ship; Lord knew what means they had to control every aspect of operations within the First Order. They could have already decided to monitor his every move for suspicious activity.

The Earth Soldiers legal team, led by Amilyn, also consisted of Larma D’Acy and Gial Ackbar, who along with their assistants and paralegals formed a team of twenty four. In addition, a small army of volunteers around the United States formed the basis of their campaign. It was absolutely imperative that all eyes were on the California Supreme Court in San Francisco as the verdict came out. Leia and Rose were the primary mouthpieces in the media, appearing publicly to attract large crowds.

The final piece of their plan relied on the incriminating contents of a micro-SD chip that would once and for all obliterate the credibility of the First Order. It was currently in the hands of an English tourist, who had just finished taking a proper bath and playing fetch with a small orange dog.

“What about the documents?” Rose sighed in frustration. “Are you sure this girl is going to deliver them in one piece, on time? What if she misplaces them or something?”

“We’re definitely taking a risk here. But she doesn’t seem to have any ulterior motives. All she wants to do is to get from point A to point B. The rest is up to her, and honestly her lack of itinerary is perfect for avoiding traps.”

“But..what if Kylo and his cult are on to her? That haven’t returned to the headquarters in a while, have they?”

“They’re always on the field, just out of sight. They can interrogate her all they want, it’s perfectly safe. She knows absolutely nothing.”

“Safe, even for her?”

Leia’s face fell for a moment. She had picked this girl out herself. A troubled young woman who had trusted her easily, who had jumped so readily at the task. But she had been surrounded by Kylo’s team for days now, which was worrisome indeed.

Kylo had a reputation for being cold and shrewd—he could very well decide to end this little game of hide-and-seek by robbing the girl blind and leaving her on the side of the highway—or worse yet, in a ditch. Even if he didn’t realize what she happened to be carrying, he could easily ensure that none of it arrived in one piece.

Rose (ever the realist) wondered why he hadn’t done so already.

Deep inside, Leia felt a gnawing pant of guilt: she had thrown this innocent girl to the wolves. Whatever happened, it was her responsibility now. But whether out of naïveté or foolhardiness, she chose to ignore the direst possibilities.

She carried on as though both the girl and the micro-SD were going to arrive unscathed—she had no room for error.

Rose held no such convictions, and it occurred to the young woman that Leia, mother of the infamous Kylo Ren, could never truly imagine the horrors that her own son was capable of. Did she still think of him as the awkward child that she often sang to sleep? How long could she keep living in denial? Kylo worked for FORCE, for Snoke and Hux. He had chosen his side. He had turned his back on the shining enterprise built by his ancestors in favor of fame and fortune, accusing his mother of being a miserly harpie.

Ironically, Rose was sure that Armitage Hux or Syed Ren would agree with her assessment: the compassion, nay, the complacency, Kylo had shown when it came to Rey was beyond comprehension.

Did they suspect she was an Earth Soldiers operative? It would be easy enough to get her alone and talking. Perhaps they would even resort to more aggressive tactics if necessary.

What if they saw her as no more than a diversion? They could make sure she had a healthy fear of their field agents, catch-and-release style.

If the evidence was anything to go by, Rose suspected that the great Kylo Ren was in love. And he was capable of anything.

Hux remained silent as Syed went over the details of her proposal over the phone. He certainly had a card to play now—but which one?

He had known Ben Solo since university, almost back before he rejected his name in favor of Kylo Ren. But their relationship had always been volatile.

Armitage, despite being the son of a reputable military officer, had been forced to juggle multiple jobs to pay for a potion of his studies. It was humiliating, but his father was convinced that it was necessary to “build character”. His assigned roommate was a large, melancholic oaf, the preppy sort with a family inheritance and whatnot. An inheritance which was promptly spent by the boy’s parents on charity and frivolous ideas of changing the world.

Kylo lost his father—a subject he rarely discussed—and was raised in part by his uncle as well as his own mother, who served in the military. An outsider for the most part, he got in to Harvard thanks to the goodwill (or rather the strong will) of the new head of the Skywalker family enterprise. His mother’s last name, synonymous with his grandfather’s legacy, opened many doors for him.

Personally, Armitage had always wondered what debt Snoke was keen on repaying the Skywalker family by graciously taking their problem child under his wing.

The difference between the two classmates was clear from the start. Ben Solo hated his family’s lack of interest in his life, all while still profiting off of the success of the glorious Skywalker enterprise to pay for his studies. Meanwhile, Hux worked in various service jobs, cleaning floors, stocking shelves, and working behind restaurant counters to pay for food, rent, and various educational expenses.

They walked the line between friendship and enmity. Some days they were drinking buddies, other times they competed for the attention of girls, or for academic recognition among their peers and professors. No doubt they compared test scores.

Harvard diploma in hand, Hux was ecstatic to start working as a financial manager for the First Order. Snoke, at the very least, recognized his competence and his intrinsic value. But Ben Solo—now insisting on the title Kylo Ren like the capricious bastard he was—was almost immediately promoted to Director of Operations. A highly prestigious post that not only put him outside of Hux’s chain of command, and gave him nearly absolute freedom on the field.

Once more, Kylo Ren’s accursed heritage guaranteed him a better place, one that Hux deserved but could never hope to achieve despite his hard work.

Presently, FORCE hoped to generate massive revenue from a mine in the northern regions of Hoopa Valley. On paper, they would be mining for iron ore buried deep underground while producing thousands of jobs in the region. Behind the scenes it was all Hux’s team: they kept the corruption under wraps, signed deals with local providers, and privately represented FORCE in every dealing. But of course it was always Kylo Fucking Ren who appeared publicly before the cameras, with his wind-swept hair and cool-guy demeanor.

Once again, it was Hux who had to face criticism and take the insurmountable legal risks when the matter was dragged into court, all while Ren continued to receive honors and congratulations.

But Snoke wouldn’t remain president forever. He was old and ailing, his liver jaundiced and his lungs weak from pulmonary disease. Following his termination, and the success of this mine, Hux’s achievements would eclipse the old brute, not to mention that of the prodigal son, Ben Solo-Skywalker, whose heritage would be annihilated.

Ben was a go-getter, as passionate as he was brutal. He detested strategy and calculation, preferring to jump directly into the fray. It would be easy to clip his wings when Hux assumed total control.

In fact, Hux now had the perfect justification. Kylo had committed a grave error in his most recent bout of passion: he was enamored with this nomadic girl, and according to Syed Ren, he would do anything for her.

He would lose everything.

“Syed, are you still there?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you for the intel. The photos were a particularly nice touch. I never doubted your loyalty, or your competence.”

Syed waited silently for Hux to gather his thoughts.

“Kylo Ren’s mission,” he continued, “is to determine Rey Jakku’s relationship with Earth Soldiers, and take action accordingly. Are you certain, after a mere seventy-two hours, that there is no connection?”

“Absolutely, sir. The girl is a diversion, driving the Millenium Falcon around to attract our attention while Skywalker’s team is plotting. We’re wasting time.”

“And did you inform Kylo Ren of your findings?”

“Yes. He chose not to take my advice.”

Hux closed his eyes, pausing. It was time to risk it all. While the loyalty of the Knights of Ren had proven unquestionable in the past, Syed Ren seemed to have a very exploitable weakness in the form of hate and jealousy.

“Who do you work for, Syed Ren?”

She hesitated, looking for a trap in his words. The answer seemed obvious but she struggled with it. “For Kylo Ren, sir.”

“Really, are you on his payroll, then?”

“Yeah...well—no! No, I work for FORCE. I work for you, sir.”

“Very well. Now I propose a new mission, one which will determine the very future of FORCE.”

“I don’t know if...”

“You don’t have to decide now. Just hear me out, and do what you like.”

“Okay. I’m...I’m listening.”

A few minutes later, Hux hung up. He ran a hand through his hair, his tell-tale sign of nervousness. If everything went to plan, if Syed Ren was as bitter and blinded by rage as he hoped, perhaps she would finally turn on her master and her precious acolyte friends. She would work for him—he had promised her money, a veritable fortune, but most of all, a chance to exact her revenge upon Kylo Ren. She would be able to smite him for rejecting her and turning her into an unwilling babysitter.

Her wrath would be glorious.

#reylo #fanfiction #Modern AU #Scenic Route

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