#Demand for Plywood

[coldpenguintaco]

Construction Segment to Remain the Fastest Expanding Application of Plywood Market During 2022-2027

Construction Segment to Remain the Fastest Expanding Application of Plywood Market During 2022-2027

The global plywood market size is projected to grow from USD 54.2 billion in 2022 to USD 73.3 billion by 2027, at a CAGR of 6.2%, According to the MarketsandMarkets™ analysis. Plywood is a well-known manufactured wood-based panel product that has been used in global development projects for many years. Plywood panels for structural applications are made up of many layers or plys of softwood…

[sramfact]

The report "Plywood Market by Type (Hardwood and Softwood), Application (Construction and Industrial), Uses Type (New Construction and Rehabilitation), and Region (North America, Europe, APAC, MEA, South America) - Global Forecast to 2027", Plywood market size is projected to reach USD 73.3 billion by 2027 from USD 54.2 billion in 2022 growing at a CAGR of 6.2%. The Asia Pacific region is the largest market for plywood across the globe. The market in the Asia Pacific has been studied for China, India, Japan, South Korea, Taiwan, Thailand, Malaysia and the Rest of Asia Pacific (Australia, Indonesia, and others). Among these countries, China accounted for the largest share of 80.0% of the Asia Pacific plywood market in terms of value.

India and China have experienced close to double-digit GDP growth in recent years, as well as a population boom. The stable economy and growing building and construction industry has augmented the growth of plywood in India and China. Furthermore, furniture sector is one of the main consumers of plywood in India. During the 2018 to 2023, it is predicted that the India furniture market by commercial sector will have a CAGR of 11.97%. India is the fourth-largest consumer of furniture worldwide and the fifth-largest producer of furniture. The Indian furniture industry is estimated to be worth $8 billion, represents 0.5% of the GDP in 2022 according to IBEF (Indian Brand Equity Foundation). The domestic organized industry has roughly 5000 businesses, and there are almost 10,500 furniture imports. The industries that contribute most to the sectors growth include real estate, housing & hospitality, and consumer base growth.

Major players operating in the plywood include Georgia Pacific LLC (US), Boise Cascade Company (US), Weyerhaeuser Company Ltd (US), UPM-Kymmene Oyj (Finland), Svezza Forest Ltd (Russia), PotlatchDeltic Corporation (US), Greenply Industries Ltd (India), Century Plyboards India Ltd. (India), Austral Plywoods (Australia), and others.

[rhiaghostriley]

MDNI - Ghost × reader - toxic relationship

The loud thud resonating in the mess hall draws all the attention on it, including yours. As you turn your head toward the noise to see what caused it, you freeze on the spot : Lieutenant Simon Riley, looking at you with furious eyes, his hand deeply buried in the plywood next to his head. Looking at you, and the guy you are openly flirting with.

Dammit.

Before you can even think about moving, he’s gone. But you know you will hear about him soon enough.

Fuck it, after all. You were doing nothing wrong. You were not together anymore. And it was his call, this time. This hundredth time… You don’t even remember how it started, to be honest. In the beginning, he was the stern, cold, forever masked Lieutenant of Task Force 141, and you were nothing more than one of the new recruits. But you made a joke during a meeting, and it made him smile, a rare occurrence for him. He got intrigued, wanted to know more about you. And from a few drinks at the nearest bar with the team, to asking him his opinion about the outfit you should wear, you’ve grown closer. And you’ve grown to know the man under the mask. With all his good and his bad sides. A lot of bad sides. But red flags are just flags when you look at it through pink glasses, right ? And you would have managed to stay away from him if the man wasn’t able to make you cum just by looking at you. But God, in his infinite cruelty, gave him the power over your body and your feelings. So here you are, wondering whether you should go after him or not, even when you know it will end badly. And remembering the first kiss…

“Ya gonna be late for meeting.” A husky voice behind you, one which can belong to only one person, especially with that thick British accent.

You smiled, blowing out some smoke from your cigarette. “Gonna report me, Lt ?”

“Don’t give a fucking shit.” He sat beside you on the bench. “Ya too young to smoke that much.”

You giggled, looking at the cigarette between your fingers, then held it out to him. “Just have to ask, if you want one.”

He chuckled, taking the cigarette from your hand. “Ya know me, I don’t ask. I take.”

“The only right way to live.” You chuckled back.

You stayed a few minutes silent, until his gravely voice speaks again. “Gonna tell me what’s wrong, or I’ll have to get it out of ya ?”

You sighed. No need to pretend, he knew. He always knew. You gave a sad smile, and trying to sound playful you said “Been dumped. Again.”

He chuckled. “Ya gonna have to stop dating boys, and try men, little one. Ya’re too much to handle for these kids. Ya need someone who can handle himself. And you.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you chuckled. “Like you ?”

These two words. The words you should never have said. The words that made your life heaven on earth and a living hell at the same time. Because next thing you knew, you were sitting on his lap, kissing him ravenously, his lips demanding, his hands wandering, making your skin tingle and your insides clench. He was proving you that indeed, he was the kind of man taking without asking, and you let him.

From then, it all went spiraling. Addicted to his touch, repulsed by his toxic demeanor, when he was pulling, you were pushing. And when he was the one pushing, you were crawling back to him like a lost puppy. He hated that he needed you, loved that you needed him. You hated that he made you lose all common sense, and loved every second spent naked against him. The damn man did know how to get under your skin as much as under your sheets.

Without realizing, you are walking around base, trying to spot him everywhere you look. Not that you feel bad for what you did, but you’d rather find him than run into him at the least expected moment and let him have the upper hand. The hole in the wall of the mess hall was enough of a proof that he was pissed, and he was like a bottle of coke that you shook too much. You would never know when it would explode, but it would. But he was nowhere to be found, and as your steps start to lead you back to your quarters, you feel your eyes water in apprehension. First for you, and then for him. For all you know he could be either in his quarters, letting out some steam on video games, or in a bar, trying to put up a fight with any bloke who would look at him in a way he wouldn’t find acceptable.

But there is also sadness in your heart. Because as much as you want to keep him away from you, you can’t. And you dread the day your ways will split for good. But this day hasn’t come yet…

As you enter your room, slamming the door shut behind you, before you have time to turn the light switch on, you feel a hand wrap on your throat and pin you against the wall. In a matter of seconds you try to comprehend what is happening, and not to freak out. But then, things get crystal clear. From the gloved hand around your throat, to the smell of Bourbon and tobacco hitting your nostrils, now you know.

“Think ya can replace me so easily, little one ?” The grip on your throat is not tight, barely uncomfortable, just strong enough to keep you still. It’s not meant to hurt you, just to remind you who is in charge.

“Ghost, let me go.” Your breath is a little uneven, your voice trembling.

“Now why would I ?” He grunts. He is still angry. “We have a few things to talk about before. Who is he ?”

“No one.” You sigh. You know it won’t be enough. “Name’s James. I don’t know more about him. It was the first time we talked.”

His grip loosens a bit, but not completely. He presses his forehead against your temple and inhale deeply, taking in your scent. “Why would you talk to him ?”

Your breath shortens a bit, because you know that whatever your answer might be, it wouldn’t be good enough for him. And the worst part is that there was no answer, you were just making small talk while lining up at the mess hall for lunch. But still you have to answer something. “We are planned on a mission together next week. We were just trying to get to know each other better. That’s it.”

“That’s it ?” He growled, then chuckle. “That’s it.”

After a few more seconds he finally lets go of you, and turns around, walking toward the nightstand where a half-empty bottle of whiskey is waiting. He takes a long swig, then shakes his head. “It’s the first time I see you talking to another guy. I don’t like it.”

You stand against the wall, not wanting to come closer, your arms crossed over your chest. “Yeah, I got the hint when you punched the wall.”

He scowls. “Don’t go there. It was the wall or his face. Better the wall, right ?” He takes another swig.

You look away, shaking your head. “I don’t understand. You left. Why do you mind ?”

He chuckles bitterly and sit on the edge of the bed, taking a sip of whiskey again. “That’s a hell of a good question.” He rubs his face with one hand, the bottle dangling from his other hand as his elbow rests on his knee. “I have no fucking clue. Ya’re my fucking Kryptonite.”

You sigh, feeling your eyes well up. “No, not Kryptonite. You’re like heroin. You feel like heaven when you’re inside me, but when you’re not I miss you as much as I hate you.”

He growls. “Then find a damn cure. Your own version of methadone, I don’t give a fuck. Stay. Away. From me.”

You let out a bitter chuckle without looking at him. “I tried. You punched a wall, remember ?”

He scowls, his voice raising. “Not a cure that means making fun of me in front of the whole goddamn base !”

You raise your voice to match his. Not something you’re used to do, but today you’re too angry. Today, it reached a new level of toxicity. And you, as well, can play dirty. “Oh, so you’re okay with me being fucked, but not by another soldier ?”

He yells even louder. He needs to have the upper hand, to show that he is more, in every way. “Ya want to play the base’s slut ? Get laid by every fuckin’ soldier around ? Fine, be my guest ! I won’t stop ya ! But don’t come back crying like you always do !”

That stings. More than it should. Because that’s not what you want. But god are you able to, even if just to piss him off a little bit more. “And what, you’re going to punch another wall ? Plus, I wouldn’t come back if you were strong enough to say no, for once !”

You knew. You knew it wasn’t a good idea to use the words “not strong enough” when talking to him. And as the bottle of whiskey crashes on the wall right next to your head, you could only think that you should have known better…

You’re both frozen. Him in anger, you in shock. Your body starts to tremble as more tears runs down your cheeks, and you stare at him, through him, eyes wide and face strained.

He, on the other side, stares back at you, chest heaving with every ragged breath he takes, anger creeping in his mind like poison as he tries to convince himself that it is your fault and not his. As he tries to persuade his scarred mind that he is not a violent guy, that he is not like his father, that it was an accident.

He takes a deep, steadying breath, taking a shy step closer to you. Then another. Then a third one, closing the distance between you two. Slowly, like dealing with a scared animal, he raises a hand to your face, putting it on your cheek, tilting his head as he whispers “I am sorry.”

And as you burst into tears, his other hand reaches for your other cheek, cradling your head in his hands, burying your face in his chest. “Ya know I would never hurt ya.”

But the truth is that he does. Every goddamn day. When he looks at you, when he touches you, when he ignores you. It hurts. But the brain is a wicked machine, and you like it rough.

He presses his lips against your forehead, whispering sweet nothings as he tries to calm you down. How beautiful you are, how soft you feel against him, like a snake trying to convince you to bite the apple, he sneaks into your brain, telling you what you need to hear.

His lips leave a trail of soft kisses from your forehead to your temple, then down to your cheek. Your jaw clenches, knowing what comes next, trying to gather the strength to say no. Not because you don’t want to. Quite the opposite.

When his mouth finds yours, awaking the familiar warmth in your chest, you try. You really try. But it comes out barely above a whisper. “Ghost, no, don’t.”

But he doesn’t listen. He doesn’t ask, he takes. He shuts you up with a kiss, his lips soft and tender at first, but quickly turning more demanding, more hungry. More desperate. And you can’t help but give it back.

With a sharp intake of breath, he buries his hands in your hair, grabbing a fistful of it to hold you still as his tongue presses against your lips, demanding entrance. Your lips part and your tongue reaches his, addicted to the bittersweet taste of bourbon and the lingering scent of smoke.

His body pins you against the wall, giving you no other choice than to put your hands on his waist, his chest pressed against yours, his hips pushing. You can feel how turned on he is, the bulge in his pants rubbing on your lower stomach, making you gasp. And he takes it as a green light.

His hands move from your hair to your chest, his touch rough when he grabs your breasts through the thin fabric of your top, eliciting a small whimper from you. It doesn’t stop him though. He knows you like it that way, despite you trying to pretend otherwise the first time. That is certainly why you and him were a match made in hell. You like when it hurts and he doesn’t know how to be soft.

Before you have time to say anything, his hands are under your top, tugging at your bra to try and move it down. His lips haven’t left yours still, his tongue fighting yours for dominance in your mouth, even if you know he will win.

His fingers find your nipples, pinching them hardly, sending a jolt from your breasts to your cunt. When you moan softly, you can’t feel him grin against your lips. “That’s it, baby girl. Let yourself go.”

As one of his hands keep working on your breast, the other moves down toward the buckle of your belt, calloused fingers grazing the soft skin of your belly, making you shiver. You know what comes next, and the heat between your thighs forbid you to act like you don’t want it.

He works fast on your belt and the buttons of your jeans, his hand already slipping in your panties, eager to touch you. He is neither slow, nor soft, but you don’t mind. All the pent-up tension from the last hours needs to be released, for you as much as for him.

When his fingers reach your pussy, tracing your slit to find your entrance, he stops kissing you, keeping his lips glued to yours, and groan. “Fuck, so fucking wet already. You like me angry, angel. Good to know.”

Inside, you want to scream, the wave of feelings coming at his words overwhelming. Anger. Pain. Self-loathing. Because he is right. He might be a walking red flag, but your red flag is that you like it. But as overwhelmed as you feel, it’s not enough to mutter the craving you feel for more of his touch. And all you can do in response is to let out a soft moan as he slides a finger into you, his thumb rubbing your already throbbing clit in expert circles.

His voice rings in your ear like poisoned honey, dripping from his lips right into your brain. “Come on little one, talk to me, use your words. Ya want more ?”

All you can do is nod, and whimper a small “yes”, because of course you want more.

He chuckles, nibbling at your earlobe as he slips a second finger into you, shutting your brain out. You find yourself grinding your pussy in his palm, feeling the too well known sensation of your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. Damn him for knowing so well how to play your body like a violin.

He is all over you. His lips kissing the supple skin of your neck where it meets your shoulder because he knows it is your favorite spot. His left hand still pinching and rolling your nipple because he knows it helps the tension building faster. And his right hand in your panties, fingers pulling in and out of your pussy at the rhythm of your moans flattering his ears. He loves it. He needs it. He picks up the pace of his fingers, going harder and deeper, with only purpose to make you cum. And it works.

You keep grinding against his palm, your moans getting louder by the second. “Fuck, Ghost… Don’t stop.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice as he whispers in your ear “I don’t intend to, baby girl. Do me a favor, make it loud.”

And you comply. Not that you could help it, anyway. When your pussy starts to clench around his fingers and you keep moaning his name louder, he moans as well, still rubbing his cock on your lower stomach, needing the friction to help him holding back. He revels in the feeling of making you break so easily, feels powerful when you moan his name without being able to stop, relishes knowing that you still want more. “That’s my good girl.”, he praises softly.

But the softness doesn’t last long, and before you have time to get back from your high, the hand that was delightfully torturing your nipples is now unbuckling his own belt and buttons, letting his jeans fall down to his ankles. He steps out of the pile of clothes, and the same treatment is given to yours. In one swift motion, he picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, pinning you against the wall, rubbing his cock against your slit like his life depends on it. He doesn’t care that you just cummed and that your body is too sensitive still. He is starving. And you’re the only meal he wants.

With a growl coming from deep inside his chest, still carrying you, he takes a few steps back and sit on the edge of the bed with you still in his lap. His hands let go of you, just enough time to remove your top and his. He needs to feel your skin against his.

Without warning, he grips your hips and moves you down on him, just enough to let the first inches of his cock slide inside you. And you don’t even try to protest, because you want it too. You need him to fill you up, to stretch you out. You need him deep inside you so you can feel that for a few minutes you two make one.

When your eyes roll back in your head he lets out a groan. “Easy, little one. Ya’re going to take it all like the good fucking girl you are, but I don’t want to hurt ya. I told ya, I’d never.”

Still, he bites down on his lip, the effort of holding back from pounding into you already taking a lot from him. He starts to move slowly, giving you a few more inches of his dick with each thrust, letting you adjust and at the same time craving for more. His grip tight on your hips, dirty reminder of who is in control, he keeps moving, nice and slow, until he is buried into you to the hilt. “Fuck baby girl, you feel too good for my own sake.”

There it is, the hint of desperation in his voice, the only sign he would give you that he needs you as much as you need him. Only when he is deep inside you, body and soul.

When he feels you relax a little around him, his left hand wraps around your waist, his right hand reaches for your throat. Not too tight, just enough to control you. He uses it to settle the pace, his face buried in your hair as he takes in your scent. Your moans are like music to his ears, he is not far from cumming already. “Come on, little one. Ride me. Ride me hard.”

Your grip is tight on his shoulders, holding on for dear life as you move your hips up and down. Every move you make makes you whimper and moan, your eyes closed tight in pleasure, a thin veil of sweat covering your skin.

His grip on your throat tightens a little. “Look at me. Don’t you dare close your eyes. Look at me when I fuck you senseless.”

His grip not loosening, he uses it to make you move faster, making you take him deeper, seeking for both your and his release. He needs to make you cum again, it’s the proof that he has a total control over your body.

Your jaw hangs open in a silent gasp and you open your eyes to look at him, your moans turning into cries of pleasure as he keeps pounding into you faster. His gaze never wavers from yours when he starts to groan with each erratic breath he takes. “Come on, angel. Cum for me. I know your close. Cum for me again.”

And as if your body was listening to him more than to you, a second orgasm hits you like a freight train, making you squirm and writhe in his grip.

“That’s it, baby girl. Let it out, I want to hear ya fucking scream my name.” He keeps pounding, milking you out of your pleasure, and cumming right after you. “Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me, ya know that. I. Fucking. Hate ya.” That’s the last words you hear before he slams into you one last time with a loud groan, and stops moving.

His grip on your throat loosens, his hand moving to the back of your head, bringing you close to him and burying your face in his neck. He stays silent a few minutes, his hand stroking his hair. And your eyes fill with tears, knowing damn well what’s coming.

He has sobered up. Still stroking your hair, he whispers in your hear. “We have to stop it, love. We’re just hurting each other, and I hate hurting you.”

His body tenses as he feels your tears in his neck. He takes a deep, steadying breath. Not out of anger this time. Out of desperation and pain. He keeps whispering. “You deserve the world, and I leave nothing but chaos in my wake.”

He pulls you away, just enough to look into your eyes. He lays on the bed, keeping you in his lap, his arms around you like a vice as you rest your head on his chest. “You were right earlier. I am not strong enough to say no. You will have to be strong for us.”

He pauses as he feels his voice trembling. He hates being weak, but he knows that if there is one person in the world he can allow himself to be weak with, it’s you. “I hate that I have to ask you that, but you have to stay away from me. I love you too much to keep destroying you.”

And your grip on him tightens as tears keep straining your face. Because you know damn well that you will never be able to stop coming back.

[adridne]

Acrylic on plywood

So I asked my director if I could keep the drop I painted at the end of the show, and she said yes, of course.

And then she said "paint something for me! I want some of your artwork!"

I said okay, I'd be happy to.

Several hours went by, and I think during that time either someone pointed out to her that maybe demanding a painting from a designer who is a contractor for you, and who you have the power to decide to rehire or not is perhaps sort of sketchy, or she spontaneously realized it on her own.

Because she texted me much later "I'll pay you!"

Not gonna let her, though.

Just going to drop this at her office this week.

Get friendshipped, idiot.

[necrotic-nephilim]

"How else am I supposed to learn if you don't punish me?" With Jason x Bruce ship pls 🙏

send a quote and a ship and I'll write a short fic!

fucked up BruJay my beloved. this is. honestly more emotional whump than physical and the romance is implied, but i do like this piece a lot, even if i struggled with it a bit. have 2.2k of Bruce and Jason struggling to get along. enjoy <3

Sometimes, Jason did it on purpose.

He knew Bruce’s patrol route better than anyone. Which was by design. Jason wanted to know where Bruce was, what he was doing, and who he was doing it with at all times. And really, Bruce didn’t seem to be stopping Jason from keeping tabs. None of Jason’s carefully placed trackers were removed, and Jason knew better than to assume Bruce had lost his touch. Bruce knew they were there, and he knew they were Jason’s.

So if Jason wanted to avoid Bruce, he knew how to do it. And when he really did want to get work done under Bruce’s nose, it was easy for Jason to dance around Bruce’s schedule and send him tail spinning just trying to keep up with Jason.

But some days, Jason didn’t want to avoid Bruce. He wanted the thrill of the chase.

So he got caught on purpose.

He picked a gang on the side of town Bruce always patrolled at this hour. He used the loudest guns he had with no silencers. He started the messiest brawl he could.

And he waited.

Jason didn’t have to wait long.

Like it always was with Bruce, the entrance was dramatic. Shattering glass as a large form with an unfurled cape descended from the skylight. Jason smiled under his helmet.

There were already at least half a dozen dead. The rest were running around like ants, either trying to get away from Jason or futilely trying to fight him.

“You’re late!” Jason shouted over his shoulder. He dodged a batarang thrown in his general direction. “I expected you to get here at least five minutes earlier.”

“Robbery a block away,” Bruce said brusquely. He turned to a few gang members with tire irons and shivs lifted, ready to charge Jason. “Run. Now.”

They didn’t need to be told twice.

Jason raised his gun to shoot one. He wasn’t particular about who he picked. He knew it didn’t matter. The bullet wouldn’t actually hit them.

Because just on time as Jason squeezed the trigger, a batarang buried into his hand. He swore and dropped the gun.

“Enough, Hood,” Bruce said coldly.

Jason smiled under his mask. “Someone’s gotta clean up this city.” He lunged for another thug.

Bruce’s body was like a battering ram, slamming into Jason. He was heavy enough to knock the wind out of Jason, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Jason groaned, trying to throw Bruce off of him. When that didn’t work, he went for his belt, grabbing his kris dagger and flipping it around.

“Do you hold any value for human life?” Bruce demanded. He grabbed Jason’s wrist and pinned it against the ground. “These aren’t supervillains, they’re normal people down on their luck-”

Before Bruce could finish talking, one of the gang members bashed him over the head with a wooden plank. Bruce’s cowl was reinforced, but the little bastard had managed to hit hard enough to snap the plank clean in half. A grunt was forced out of Bruce and his whole body buckled.

Now that was just rude. Bruce was Jason’s meat, not some stupid punk’s. Possessive jealousy flared through Jason, watching Bruce wince in pain to a wound Jason didn’t give him.

“Yeah, they seem real grateful to their savior,” Jason sneered. He threw Bruce off of him and grabbed the gang member. A wiry thing, probably still a teenager. Jason twisted them around to hold his dagger against their throat with his fingers buried into their hair, holding them still. A horrified noise came out of them. Not that Jason particularly cared. He wasn’t the one stupid enough to try beaning Batman with some plywood.

Bruce was on one knee, looking up at Jason. “Don’t.” His fingers twitched toward his utility belt.

“You can’t stop me,” Jason taunted, pressing the blade against tender flesh until the person was squirming in his grasp and blubbering out incoherent pleas for mercy. “Hands where I can see ‘em, B.”

If Jason was anyone else, Bruce would’ve stopped him by now. A quick flick of his wrist to hit Jason with a tranq dart, was how he guessed Bruce would do it.

But he wasn’t just some rogue. He was Jason. And that made Bruce go still, actually listening to Jason’s demands.

“You’re just doing this for attention,” Bruce said carefully, keeping his whole body tense, but not moving it. “Let them go.”

“It’s working.” Jason shrugged, adjusting his hold on the stranger. “So can you blame me?”

“There are other ways to do it without-” Bruce briefly looked around the room at the bodies littered everywhere- “casualties. And innocent hostages.”

“Innocent?” Jason laughed. He turned to address the person he was holding. “Do you think you’re innocent? Why don’t you tell the Batman where these drugs were getting funneled.”

“I don’t- please, I just help packaging- I didn’t-”

Jason huffed in annoyance. “I’ll tell him for you. The middle school down the street. And if there was extra supply, the youth center just around the corner from it too. You remember that youth center don’t you, B? I slept there sometimes as a kid. It was warmer than the streets.”

Bruce’s mouth faintly twitched. His jaw was set. Jason could see him grappling with the rage of knowing exactly who these low lives were dealing to, while still wanting to tell Jason off for all the ugly murder.

How contradictory that nasty little moral code of his could be.

“Let them go,” Bruce spoke slowly, “and we’ll work together to figure out how-”

“Oh don’t even pretend,” Jason laughed. “Don’t pretend you would work with me for a second.”

“Let them go,” Bruce repeated. He seemed to pointedly avoid admitting to Jason’s point.

Jason let out a long hum like he was thinking about it. “I don’t know. What’s one more to my body count?” He started to press the blade.

Bruce moved inhumanely fast. He kicked up, knocking the knife out of Jason’s hand without hitting the gang member. His hands went for Jason’s throat and he managed to get Jason back on the ground. The gang member ran off, footsteps echoing until they were gone while Jason and Bruce grappled, trading punches and kicks until Bruce managed to pin Jason down. Blood was pouring from Jason’s nose and Bruce had human claw marks across his cheek.

Rough. Animalistic. Just the way Jason liked it.

“Why do you do this?” Bruce spoke through grit teeth. “Why do you make me do this?”

“Like you said,” Jason grunted, trying to twist out from Bruce. “I like the attention.” His struggles only got him pinned harder. Bruce forced Jason facedown against the concrete, with an arm twisted behind his back. Jason’s helmet was torn off and tossed to the side.

“I never want to hurt you,” Bruce actually sounded choked up about it. “Why do you have to take it too far every time?”

Jason would give anything to see his face, right now.

“Maybe I want you to hurt me,” Jason said. He looked at his hand resting against the concrete, blood still pouring out of the wound the batarang left. it was a bright, pulsing pain that danced across his reality, making his blood sing. He hoped it would scar. Another to add to the collection of ones he’d goaded Bruce into giving him.

“Why?” Bruce’s voice broke on the word. It was an ironic thing. How badly Bruce wanted to show Jason his mercy. His gentle side. And how badly Jason wanted Bruce’s violence. He wanted Bruce to fight Jason until Bruce’s knuckles were bloody and Jason was barely conscious. He wanted to feel Bruce’s violence down to the marrow.

Jason craned his head back to look at Bruce and smiled. “How else am I supposed to learn if you don’t punish me?”

Bruce stared. For a long moment, he was silent. Jason listened to his breathing like a lifeline. “You don’t actually believe that.” his voice was soft and laced with something that sounded dangerously close to concern.

Sentimental bastard.

“No,” Jason admitted. “We both know I’ll never learn.”

To prove his point, Jason grabbed a stray piece of glass from the ground and stabbed it into one of the weak spots on Bruce’s armor. It made Bruce’s grip loosen enough for Jason to roll free and try to kick Bruce in the face.

Bruce wasn’t fighting him. He only blocked Jason’s blows, and even then, let some of them hit. It was like fighting a brick wall. Hard and unrelenting.

It was starting to piss Jason off.

“Don’t be afraid to hurt me now, Bruce,” Jason said through grit teeth, throwing another punch. It sailed uselessly over Bruce’s shoulder when Bruce easily dodged.

“No.” Bruce’s expression was unreadable under his mask. “I’m not playing your game, Jason.”

“Damnit!” Jason could feel his anger threatening to take control. He kicked Bruce hard in the shin, forcing the man to his knees. Jason ripped Bruce’s cowl off. He wasn’t stopped by Bruce. Hard blue eyes stared up at him. Practically emotionless. “I know you hate me. I know you’re itching to rip my head off for…” Jason spread his arms, gesturing to all the bodies. “For this! For everything I’ve done.”

Bruce shook his head, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. “I don’t hate you, Jason. I could never-” He doubled over when Jason’s knee connected with his stomach.

“Well you definitely don’t love me,” Jason snapped, ice dripping from his tone. “If you did… if you loved me, you would let me have this.”

“Killing people?”

“Hurting me,” Jason corrected. He snatched his kris off the floor from where it’d fallen to. He stared at the blade. “I’m sick of your pacificism. I’m sick of you pretending you don’t crave hurting someone and pretending to be someone you’re not.”

“I’ve never pretended,” Bruce looked at Jason through careful, hooded eyes. “That want… that need has always been a part of me. I take too much pleasure in hurting people. Pleasure in believing they deserve it.” He studied Jason for a moment. “I never wanted it to consume you the way it consumes me. Because I know it’s something you can’t come back from, once it takes root.”

Jason hated it when Bruce waxed poetic. It was a whole lot of bullshit that meant nothing to Jason. It did nothing to fight the roar of rage building in Jason’s chest.

“Do you want to hurt me?” Jason asked.

He needed Bruce to say yes.

He knew Bruce wouldn’t.

Even if it was the truth. Which now, Jason wasn’t so sure.

Bruce was silent. He didn’t give Jason any answer, not even a change in expression. Bruce just pushed himself to his feet and looked at his cowl that Jason was still holding.

“I love you, Jason,” Bruce said. He grabbed the cowl, but Jason didn’t let go. “I want to help you. Please let me help you in any other way that’s not… this.” Bruce’s thumb brushed over the still bleeding gash on Jason’s hand.

Jason tightened his grip on the cowl. “I’m not giving you the free pass to sleep easy at night,” he hissed. “You can’t take back any of the scars you’ve given me. And we both know sooner or later, there will be new ones.”

Bruce tore the cowl out of Jason’s hand. Before putting it on, he started to reach out for Jason’s face, but seemed to think against it, hand abruptly dropping. He opened his mouth to say something. An apology, probably.

A muffled, crackly voice came from inside the cowl. A police scanner, by the sounds of it. Jason only caught the words bomb threat and hostages.

So much for Bruce’s attention.

“Come with me?” Bruce offered, pulling his cowl on.

Jason shook his head. “You know you don’t want me there.”

“I always want you-” Bruce cut himself off, seeming to realize how dangerously vulnerable his words were. “The offer to come to me will always be open, Jason. You know that.”

Jason’s fist curled and his blood dripped onto the concrete. “Go to hell.”

Like that, the intimacy was gone. Bruce put his emotional mask back on to go with his physical one and turned heel, walking away. Jason just watched him go, some part of him foolishly waiting for Bruce to turn back and say something. Anything. He could get any other hero to handle the bomb threat. He could spare Jason just a few more moments of arguing and fighting. Maybe even something more.

But of course, he didn’t.

[bambi-kinos]

@yulia-k-blog

Sorry it took me a while to answer this, I wanted a short break from meta and there's more to write still. John and Yoko's relationship eh.

I think they had a genuine camaraderie and artistic connection. Yoko was doing something interesting when John was bored, frustrated, and angry. I think that her ideas genuinely excited him especially since she was using abstract thinking in her art, as well as focusing on audience participation in a way that John had never thought of before. What I noticed from reading about Yoko's exhibits and props was that she wanted to invoke reactions and emotions in the audience. Like she once constructed a box made out of plywood and stuck it full of pickles or something and the whole deal was that you were supposed to stick your hand in it. Feels creepy and gross but at least you felt something right? That's what she wanted.

Now whether Yoko's art was actually any good is a completely different question. She was not the only or first performance artist to be creating exhibits with the idea of making audience participation as the focal point. She wasn't the only or first abstract thinker to come out of Japan at that point either. John was kind of a dumbass for being so taken with her honestly because by the time November 1966 rolled around, Yoko wasn't doing anything new or even interesting. John met her at Indica because other performance artists setting up their crappy little exhibits there. Yoko's whole thing was that she came to the UK because she deduced that the British were more willing to put up with her half baked ideas. She couldn't get traction in the United States specifically because artists from France and Germany and other Western European nations had moved to New York City to GTFO out of their wartorn nations and find their fortunes overseas. So it wasn't just that Yoko was behind the curve and trying to play catch up, it's that the sophisticated international globetrotters in New York City spent a lot of time putting her in her place with regards to her art hustle lmao.

But anyway. John and Yoko, they had a genuine connection. I think that was real. John couldn't make anyone give a shit about her but hey, he was impressed with her. Can't fake that. I think Yoko had a genuine affection for him too, even if it was more like a Hollywood actress doting on her purse puppy a la Paris Hilton.

The problem is that this was manufactured lmao. Yoko pestered Paul for manuscripts in 1965 or thereabouts (yes it really was that early), he deflected her to John, and she began stalking John at his fucking house to the point he changed the phone number a few times and she sent him tampons, once jumped into his car and demanded a ride while Cynthia was also in it, and other crazy shit like that. Yoko was really, really desperate for his attention but she was also desperate for his money: she wrote up a goddamn contract with her then husband Tony Cox where they agreed to split the proceeds that they got from John Lennon 50/50. I don't know if this was before or after """meeting""" John at Indica in 1966 but Yoko's original plan was to steal everything she could from John and split it with her husband. What a nice lady looking after John's money for him like that, making sure it wouldn't get stolen, huh.

I do wonder sometimes if the Beatles thing got out of Yoko's control and if she was just as much along for the ride as Paul was. But anyway. Again, sorry, about myself, I editorialize.

Yoko wanted a patron and she decided to aim high for a Beatle. John wanted to escape the Beatles and go on a "fuck Paul" spree. They both gave each other that. And I think they both succeeded admirably in what they wanted to do. Yoko got to have her Beatle and she has never been without money ever since. John got to jump on the "fuck Paul" train and he never got off it, regardless of what his true feelings about the matter were.

It was not a phony relationship by any means. I think that John legitimately respected Yoko as an artist. He saw something there that no one else does. It's just that it was always lopsided. Yoko liked having John as her pet and he liked being her pet. It was never a relationship between equals like it was with John and Paul.

And I mean. To John's credit he did not want a relationship between equals. Multiple reports from the Dakota confirm that John actively wanted Yoko to handle everything and he resented the idea that he should take charge of his finances and his diet and his life. When Yoko fired John's lawyers so he would have no legal representation in her impending divorce plans (god that was a quagmire) he did not raise a peep as far as we know. What makes their relationship so baffling is that Yoko did so many awful things to John and the worst he would do in response is use their tarot reader Charlie Swan as a marriage counselor and vent his feelings about his wife before quietly returning to their dynamic.

How do you keep a man like John Lennon? How do you make him stay? Yoko shows us how! Ignore him! Do not speak to him for weeks on end! Insult him and call him names! Give him a limited allowance of money and unlimited drugs! Take over his legal and financial representation and absolutely do not allow him the choice to take it back!

tl;dr Cyn and Paul loved John and he ran from them. Yoko squeezed John for everything he had and he clung to her. That is their relationship.

[exitwound]

Do you like watching the shapes in the clouds?

when i look at the sky all i see is a stream of signs and symbols even the clouds seem to be only images of clouds the sunset frequently is a postcard the aurora borealis in real life is dimmer than on the national geographic covers the first time i saw the clouds from above i had already heard about walking on them in picture books & my imagination was overwhelmed with attempts at that possibility & the first time i picked the ripe plum from the summer bough it was in a video game & sometimes when i am in strange places i hear my boots echoing over a creaky wooden bridge & the lightless empty part of my mind has so little time to remember that i am apart of this world i am thinking first of the foley artist behind the scenes click-tapping her boots on some dusty square of plywood over no flooded swamp suspended by no fraying rope and close to where the microphone can hear i am sick on representations i am sick on signs sick on language sick on fate sick on art and sick on entertainment sick even on poems so i dream of tearing the representational skins from that which they falsely claim to represent & i demand to confront the unpercieved world & yes, it’s worse than the mysteries.

[huffle-dork]

Swap Beyond the Crystalverse Chapter 6: Shift AU

Co-written with @crystalninjaphoenix Read Swapboys | Read Crystal’s AUs

Other Multiverse Stories: SITCV | SATCV | GITHV

"Watch your step. Don't want to fall." 

Marvin, Bro, and Chase show up at the end of a hallway, leading to a large room. The space through the portal is reminiscent of a laboratory of some kind, with walls and floor made of stainless steel and tubes of blue lights illuminating the area. Two circular doors--one left and one right--lead out of the room. There's a similar door behind them. In the middle of the room are tables and tables of equipment, and a large device, an upright ring with part of it broken off. But the reason for the warning is clear. There is no ceiling, as the walls end in cracks and shards. Everything above is just an empty black space. And there are holes in the ground, also leading to that same black void.

Bro looks at that space with a bit of fear in his eyes, swallowing shakily as he looks at the lab set up. So many horrible memories flash before his eyes. But he shuts them and tries to shake it off- he’s gotta focus. He almost stumbles over a hole in the ground but catches himself and floats a bit over it. But even someone who can fly doesn’t like the look of the void below. “…l-lovely place you have here, Doc…” Bro mumbles, quickly finding another solid spot.

"Oh you don't need to lie to me," Shattered says, chuckling. "It is a real hazard, I know. Doll complained so much while working here." He disappears and reappears in the center of the room. 

“You made Jackie work here?” Bro says with a growl, thinking of Mag using Alt.

"Where is she?!" Marvin demands. "Tell me, o-or I'll shoot!" 

"Marvin, careful!" Chase pulls him back from the edge of a hole. He looks down at it and holds out a hand. Yellow magic covers over some of the holes, creating a solid bridge into the solid room. 

"Over here." Shattered appears over by the right doorway. He hits a glowing blue button and it opens up. Marvin runs over in that direction, pulling ahead of Bro and Chase. As he goes through the doorway, Shattered's hand hesitates over the button again, but he doesn't push it. Bro yells a bit as he pulls ahead and quickly speeds after Marvin and through the door.

The room beyond looks like it was once a storage room of some kind, with metal shelves full of boxes and random things. But there have been some changes. Someone took plywood boards and nailed them over the holes in the floor, and a corner of the room has been made into a tiny kitchen with a mini-fridge, microwave, shoddily-made cabinet, and coffee maker. Up against the other corner is a metal bedframe, and on it-- 

"Dad?" 

"Skyler!" Marvin rushes over to her, immediately scooping her up into a hug. Skyler is small for her age, her brown hair held back by a purple headband. She's wearing a pink dress with white accents and a rounded collar, and she has white sneakers on her feet--the type with bungee cords and not laces. Her socks are fuzzy and purple.

Bro watches the reunion with a wet smile, but then he glares behind him at Shattered. “…what’s the point of all of this huh? To torture Marvin? To have some kind of control? …a little girl doesn’t deserve to get thrown into adult messes. You’re sick.”

Shattered blinks, uncomprehending. "...She is fine, though." 

"Are you fine, sweets?" Marvin asks, giving her a kiss on the forehead. 

"Mm-hmm." Skyler nods. "Dad? I want ice cream." 

Marvin laughs. "Is that what's on your mind?" 

"I haven't had any dessert for forever. And I'm bored. I wanna go to the park." 

"We'll go to the park as soon as we can, sweets, I promise you." Marvin stands up, holding her in her arms. 

Chase looks over at Shattered. "Well?" 

"Hmm?" Shattered stares at him. "What?" 

"Where's the way out?" 

"I got rid of it after you came in." Shattered grins. 

Bro’s eyes flash and he lashes out to try to grab Shattered by the collar and slam him into the wall, “Fucking bastard! This was a trap?!”

Shattered's head knocks against the wall, but he just laughs. "Of course! I was not expecting others, but it works out, ja?" 

Marvin's eyes widen. He takes Skyler and hurries out of the room, searching around the edges of the room. 

"You bastard!" Chase's eyes flare bright yellow. "You just wanted to--to kidnap Marvin?! Why?!" 

Shattered's smile fades. "yes... that is a good question," he whispers. "I... he is..." He trails off, suddenly looking lost.

Bro’s hold on him loosens a bit- confused. Then, sympathetic. What if… Shattered here is just like Glitch? Someone corrupted that can’t help but act on their impulses? Should he try to give him mercy? Should he try to appeal to who he was before..? …it’s worth a try isn't it? “…Henrik?” Bro asks quietly, “…are you still in there somewhere…?”

Shattered blinks. "Hen...rik?" he repeats. "Th-that is a... name. That is a... familiar... name." 

Chase blinks. "Is that your name?" he asks, matching Bro's softer tone. 

"I..." Shattered looks around, like he's taking in the details of this strange space for the first time. "This is... a broken place. For broken things. It... should not be here..."

“It was… did you forget, Schneep? …what happened- to put you here… that made this place?” Bro asks quietly. “Do you remember?”

"There was... an accident," Shattered says slowly. "I... I was... not..." He gasps, and suddenly grabs onto Bro’s shirt with both hands. "Wo sind sie? Wohin sind sie gegangen? Wie bekomme ich sieczurück? Wie bekomme ich sie zurück?!" And then, as sudden as the panic arrives, it disappears. He blinks at Bro slowly, like he's never seen him before. "...Ah. What... am I... supposed to do now?" It's like he's asking for the next line of a script. 

Bro can’t help but flinch back and look at Shattered with wide eyes. German- German-! He knows some from Henny? Where… he’s asking where someone is? Bro takes a deep breath and holds Shattered’s wrist gently in his hand, “…you’re missing someone, huh? Is that why you took Skyler? Why you want Marvin? …you’re trying to replace something that you’ve lost.” He says quietly, firmly, but also, with compassion.

"Replace...? Replace what?" Shattered blinks. "Who are... ah, you are a Hero, ja?" And he looks over at Chase. "And a Magician." He turns to look at Marvin and Skyler, still searching for some other way out of here. "Oh! Such a cute little one. She looks tired. She should probably lie down, maybe."

Bro gets frustrated at this and then shoves Shattered back, “Okay don’t play dumb, Schneep! I’m trying to help you! You took Skyler, remember?? You trapped us all in here- are you just losing your mind?! What that fuck happened to you?!”

Shattered stares at him, then laughs. "What did you say? Shneep? What a funny word. No, no, we are not trapped in here. You just have to concentrate! Or... is that just me?" 

“Schneep! Henrik! That’s who you used to be cuz I fucking know you dude! Or I know what you’re supposed to be! you-!” Bro starts to yell, frustrated tears brimming in his eyes. The way Shattered’s blue eyes glow and his black coat- it can only make Bro think of the Schneep he knows becoming like this… just like he saw Alt in Glitch. 

Chase walks over and puts a hand on Bro's shoulder. "Um... Bro? I don't think he's playing dumb. I think he's just... like this."

Bro flinches a bit as Chase touches his shoulder and glances at him briefly. He loosens his grip a bit more but looks at Shattered with sadness. “… how did this happen…?” He whispers before finally letting Shattered go, not expecting an answer. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath then addresses Shattered again, “… you’re right- the little girl does look tired, doesn’t she? I don’t think that bed is good for her back there- can you help us get her back to rest somewhere?” He asks.

"Hm? Oh, yes that would probably be a good idea." Shattered nods. "Where is that way out...?" He wanders over, pressing his metal hand to the nearest wall. He closes his eyes for a moment. "Where are we going?" 

"Um--we have some friends at a building on South Project Street," Chase says hurriedly. "The number is 223. Does that help?" 

"Oh yes, that place! They should be able to get her home from there." A cracking noise rings out and the section of the wall breaks, forming another portal. Shattered looks back at Bro and Chase and smiles. "Let's go, then."

Bro looks pretty weirded out and guarded but he nods and whistles to get Marvin’s attention, “Marvin!! Hurry over here!”

The whistle is not necessary. Marvin is already looking in that direction, a concerned expression on his face. He takes Skyler by the hand and the two of them hurry over. "We're leaving for real, then, Dad?" 

"Yes, Skyler, we're leaving for real," Marvin says. 

Shattered blinks as Marvin gets close. "You are her father? Do... do I know you?" 

"Uh--nope." Marvin turns his face away. 

"You seem familiar, though." 

"Just a coincidence." Marvin hurries over to the portal. "Chase, Chase--both Chases, um--you better be right behind us. C'mon, Sky, you go first." 

"Come with me!" Skyler clings to his hand. 

"At the same time!" Marvin glances back at Shattered, who is staring at him with a puzzled expression, brows furrowed in thought. "Okay, at the same time. C'mon you two." And he and Skyler hurry through the portal.

Bro looks back at Shattered, expression conflicted. But, then he nods and follows right after the other two.

As Chase follows as well, Shattered's eyes seem to snap into place. "Wait!" he shouts. "You cannot leave!" 

The portal starts to close, but Chase lunges forward, the edges scraping against his skin, and barely manages to make it out before it shuts altogether. The three of them and Skyler are standing in the lobby of the building, alone.

Bro breathes heavily as they make it to the other side, clenching a hand over his heart. “J-Jesus Christ… t-that was insane…!” He then shakes himself out then kneels down by Skyler, giving her a gentle smile. “Hi Skyler, you okay? Nothing bruised?”

Skyler stares at him with wide eyes. "Are you Uncle Chase's twin?" 

Chase laughs. "Uh--no, not exactly. But he's a friend. So, it's okay to answer his question." 

“Oh yeah uh sorry! You can call me Bro, okay?” Bro laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I-I’m a hero so I help people like your dad, you know?”

"Oh. Yeah, I'm okay." She pats her own arms, checking herself over. 

"Were you scared?" Marvin asks quietly. 

"...sometimes," Skyler says, even quieter than him. "Because, uh... I didn' know what was going on." 

Marvin leans down and gives her a tight hug. "Well, it's all over now. I promise."

Bro smiles sadly and pats Marvin’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay, Skyler… we’ll get you home real soon, okay?” He looks up at the ceiling, knitting his eyebrows in concern.

"Yeah, all your other uncles came to find you, too, but they had to stay back," Marvin says. "They're somewhere upstairs right now, with Bro's brother, too. Do you want to go find them, or do you want to stay here with me and wait for them?" 

"Um..." Skyler twists back and forth, twirling her skirt as she thinks. "I wanna go find them." 

"Alright." Marvin nods. "Let's go, then." He glances at Chase and Bro. "You two lead the way."

Bro chuckles a little, “You’re really brave, Skyler. A tough lass!” He smiles at her then heads towards the stairs. 

————- 

It’s easy enough to try to find Alt- the second he’s alone on an upper floor- he’s not even sure which one— he screams in rage and a rocket of power comes out of him, throwing anything left over around in an explosive burst. He starts to grab things and throw them, hit the walls with electric bursts, yelling until his throat starts to go raw. Then, he looks at the damage he’s done as he pants heavily, then yells out with a cracked voice before he curls up, curling his fingers in his hair. 

Why is he so angry? He doesn’t even know this kid! But… thinking about her- all alone and scared and taken from her family makes his blood boil. …Is it because no one came for him? That he wanted so badly to help save her? Is it because Shattered wears his friend’s face but has the attitude of the scientists that tortured him? The people that changed him and Chase forever? 

Maybe maybe- he’s not sure- all he knows is he’s so so angry and he can’t control it and all the others must think he’s just as bad as the other hims and-! 

He’s not even sure when the tears started to come until he felt the wet warmth on his face. 

 "...Alt, are you... okay?" Anti's voice comes from the phone. "I haven't seen this... reaction from you before. And I don't think... this is something you usually do."

Alt is quiet for a long time after hearing Anti’s voice. “…I… I don’t know…” he answers truthfully. Then he laughs bitterly, “obviously I’m not okay… I… I don’t know why I’m so angry I… s-she’s not even my kid- she’s not a kid I know- but a-all of this… I…” he lightly touches his neck and closes his eyes. “…guess it just brings up b-bad memories…” 

"Ah. So it's a trauma response," Anti says bluntly. "You don't want any other kid to go through something that reminds you of something you went through. You might have even been seeing Shattered as the people who hurt you, striking back in a way you couldn't back then." He pauses. "Well... all of that is understandable. It really is. But you have to know you were going a bit too far back there.”

Alt is quiet, gripping his arms tight as he curls up around his knees. “…yeah I… I know…” he whispers. “…I think it was more too. I saw him as… as the people in SCLERA… the Alterra people that hurt us… I-i guess it was just… not wanting to be scared. Easier to be angry than… afraid.” 

“You can't let your anger control you like that, as valid as it is. I know you're not... like that. If that makes sense." 

Alt laughs a bit bitterly at Anti’s last statement, “…you didn’t know me at my worst… there was a reason I was… targeted. I was always an angry kid… angry when Chase found me again… a-always so angry… I don’t think it… really leaves, you know?” 

Anti doesn't respond to that right away. "...maybe," he says quietly. "But—" 

And then he stops, the phone microphone detecting sounds. 

There are footsteps in the hallway outside the room Alt is in. "--just follow the loud ass noises," Dr. Anti's voice is saying. 

"D'you think he's alright?" Jackie asks, worried. "Seemed a bit rattled by the whole thing." 

"Fucking understatement." 

Alt stiffens as he hears the others’ voices and he looks at the door with wide eyes. He doesn’t think- he just glitches to hide behind something- not ready to face anyone.

The door to the room opens, and JJ walks inside, looking around. Jackie follows behind him, then Dr. Anti. 

"Well... this is definitely where he was," Dr. Anti says. 

"D'you think he left?" 

JJ shakes his head. His eyes scan the room... and then he walks directly towards Alt's hiding space behind an overturned table. He stops a few feet away, and starts typing on the brace on his wrist. "Alt?" says a robotic voice. "Do you want to talk or would you rather stay quiet?" It sounds like a computerized version of Dr. J's voice.

Alt freezes as he hears JJ start to walk towards him. He’s quiet for a few intense beats. Then, he quietly laughs, though it sounds… pained. “…forgot you said you had ESP..  c-cool communicator though.” He doesn’t move to come out of the spot though, opting to curl up more against the table.

“Thank you. My brother made it.” JJ glances back at Jackie and Dr. Anti. The two of them come over, and they all sit down on the floor. “We just wanted to check that you were okay.” 

“You, um… didn’t get hurt while throwing stuff around, did you?” Dr. Anti asks awkwardly. “I’m not that kind of doctor but I’m still a doctor. I got… bandages and stuff.” 

“I’m okay…” Alt replies quietly, “…not hurt or anything.” 

“…sorry about all that,” Jackie says quietly. “He’s… really frustrating. When he’s like that.” 

“I don’t think Alt was ‘frustrated,’ exactly,” JJ says.

Alt laughs bitterly and grips at his arms, “…not exactly no… I… I’m sorry I-it’s… complicated. …I didn’t mean to e-explode though-“

“It’s okay,” JJ says. “It’s an understandable thing to get mad at.” 

“I won’t lie, it was a tad shocking,” Jackie says. “But if I got upset with people for having a temper I’d spend half my life mad at Anti.” 

“Ha.” Dr. Anti rolls his eyes. “Look, Alt. We get it. And Shattered deserves it. And judging by your brother’s reaction, this isn’t something that happens a lot with you. So it’s fine.” 

“We just want to know what we can do to help,” JJ says.

Alt is quiet for a long time, idly touching his scar. “… just you all being here… for Skyler… that’s enough. …it’s more than I got. She’s a lucky girl… seems like she’s got a big family who loves her a lot.”

"Oh..." Jackie breathes, eyes widening. He quickly starts talking. "Oh yes, absolutely. It's a really good thing, innit? I mean, poor girl doesn't have a mom, the least we can do it give her some extra uncles. And, ah, you know what they say about kids and villages. I think. I don't know if that expression exists in your world." 

Alt laughs quietly, “Y-Yeah… I know that one.”

JJ looks in Alt's direction thoughtfully. He knows there's something bothering him. Some lingering pain. But this isn't the time to bring it up. After all, they only met about thirty minutes ago. 

"Are you, um.... going to... sit here?" Dr. Anti asks awkwardly. "Or... maybe something else will help?" 

"Absolutely," JJ says. "We can talk about something else, if you want."

Alt breathes slowly, “I’m… not sure. I-I guess I need to… go look for the TRVLR piece now but I… I t-think I just… need some… time.” He wipes at his face, “…you guys are nice for… sitting here with me…. But, you don’t have to. Kinda awkward to do that with a stranger huh?”

"Well... we're not going to just leave you," Jackie says. "You don't have to be a friend to feel for someone. Especially in JJ's case." JJ chuckles silently. "And you do remind me of Anti, in a way." 

"Well yeah, he looks like me," Dr. Anti says. "Cept for the eyes." 

"I mean in the way you get angry when you're scared." "I--I don't--!" Dr. Anti stammers. "You can't just--!" 

"My point being, you don't feel like a stranger, even if you are," JJ continues.

Alt’s eyes widen and he glitches a bit in place. Then he throws a hand over his eyes and laughs, teetering on the edge of sounding pained. “…I’m that obvious now, huh?”

"To a fucking empath, maybe," Dr. Anti mutters. "You can't hide this shit from Jackson." 

"Sorry. I can't turn it off." JJ looks apologetic as he types.

“…Oh you’re … you can actually feel that-“ Alt chuckles, “that explains a lot…” 

"You don't have to talk about it," Jackie says hurriedly. "But, uh, if you want to... I, um... went through some stuff... with Shattered. It might... be, um... Sorry, I don't know what I'm saying."

Alt glances back and then grips at his arm, looking at the purple rings on his wrist. “… I noticed… he called you Doll.” He feels that burst of anger that has him gripping nails into his skin and magic sparking in his eyes. “… does Shattered make… puppets?” He asks quietly.

"Not... how you're... thinking, probably," Jackie says slowly. "But... he does have this... hypnotizing effect, if he wants to use it. He rarely does, but when it... happens, it's like... You're just... confused all the time. In this weird daze that leaves you wanting to listen to suggestions from anyone." Dr. Anti shudders slightly. Alt shudders at the mention of hypnosis too."But I mean... I was taken from my time," Jackie continues. "I left behind a lot. I don't think Shattered meant to do it, but still."

“…I’m sorry Jackie… that must be really hard.” Alt says quietly. He waits a few more beats before he asks, “…did any of you know Shattered…? Before he became… this? Or …how it happened?”

"Not at all," JJ says. "Jackie would know the most," Dr. Anti says, glancing at him. 

"He was like this when I showed up," Jackie shrugs. "But... I know it wasn't always like this. He's not some strange creature. There are moments when... there's something else." He shakes his head. "They've never happened while he was out here, only in that pocket world." He pauses. "He didn't always call me Doll... he knew my name once. But over time, he... stopped using it. And I think it's because he forgot."

Alt sighs and then finally glitches out of his hiding space to sit in front of the others, sitting cross-legged. He doesn’t look at them at first, “…that’s another reason why this is hard… I know who’s supposed to be.” Finally he looks them in the eyes, a deep sadness behind them. “…he used to be Henrik von Schneeplestein… I know his face. And… his approach to all this… scientific and medical it- …he’s not like my Hen… but like others I know. Like a very good friend of mine…” He looks at his hands as he idly plays with them, “…recently in our travels… I… we saw what… could happen if I- became something like Shattered. And not just… another Anti… it was me. I saw Shattered and… I got so angry… seeing him like he was my friend.” He laughs bitterly, “…I think some part of me thought I could… knock some sense back into him… but he’s not my Schneep. He’s not Henny either. …it’s still tough though- to see the face of someone you care about… twisted like that.” He shudders- almost relived he can’t ever really picture Distorter’s face clearly, even if he knows the truth.

The other three jump slightly as he appears, but none of them say anything as he talks. "Oh... I'm... I'm so sorry, Alt," Jackie whispers. "I can't even imagine..." He shivers. 

So it seemed personal to you, JJ says, signing now that Alt can see him. I see. He nods slowly. I suppose that if you go through enough worlds, you'll eventually find something very disturbing. A you that went down the wrong path. Or a friend who did. But it doesn't make it easy.

Alt nods and holds his arm, looking away. “… personal for that and… o-other reasons. But yeah… seeing him and… a child being in danger. …it was a lot and… my magic reacts to my emotions. Sometimes… it’s like- the anger becomes its own uncontrollable power and… takes over, I guess? …that sounds like an excuse but.. t-that’s what it feels like. I… I couldn’t think straight I… I’m sorry.”

JJ nods slowly. I understand. 

"It can be hard to control sometimes," Dr. Anti mutters. "You ever think about anger management classes?" 

Jackie shoves him. "Not the time!" 

"Well, if it becomes a problem, you know? Personally sometimes I think it helps to remove my--yourself, but... I guess that wasn't really an option back there." 

Alt’s eyes flicker angrily towards Dr. Anti and spark a bit, bits of his hair sticking up from the electricity. “…I used to be worse.” He bites out. 

Dr. Anti blinks. "...sorry," he says quietly. "I guess I don't know your life. I just..." He shakes his head. 

Ignore him, JJ says. He's not good with emotions. It's fine, Alt. Everyone is going to be okay. I'm sure of it.

Alt’s magic dies down as JJ signs and he gives him a weak smile. “…yeah, I’m sure Chase- …Bro has everything taken care of…” 

I'm sure too. JJ smiles. But I think it will be a good idea to leave as soon as possible once he and the others get back with Skyler. Are you feeling up to moving on?

Alt nods and glitches to his feet. He looks around, “Any idea what floor this is? …I kinda just- glitched to a random place.”

"It's the fourth, we saw the number next to the door while coming up the stairs," Jackie says, also getting up. 

"So if your thing is still on the fifth floor, we just have to go up one more set of stairs," Anti adds, standing. 

Let's go then. JJ gets to his feet and leads the way out of the room, glancing back to make sure Alt is following.

Alt hesitates- then follows after them. No sense in glitching ahead now. He glances at the mess he made then quickly hurries after the others.

They go down a hallway and back to the stairwell, climbing up the steps to the next floor. The whole building is still pretty dim, since the lights aren't on and the only source of illumination comes from the windows. But none of the guys dare turn on the lights. 

Though, Alt crackles out a blue-green ball of light in his hand to help light the way. 

The fifth floor has a U-shaped hallway, with lockers at one end for the employees and a breakroom at the other end. The bend of the U has a set of glass doors leading into what looks like a chemistry lab of some kind. "Do you have any idea what we're looking for?" Jackie asks Alt.

Alt blinks at Jackie then pulls out the tracker to check. “Let’s see…” The tracker tells him that the part is in a trash can in the lab area.

Alt hums and glitches forward, “…I dunno what exactly it looks like- but according to this it’s in a trash can.” He glitches over to the first one he sees and tries to search through it.

"It's in a bin? Oh boooo." Jackie frowns. 

There's only one trash can in the hallway, and it's empty. JJ goes over to the break area to check, but quickly returns. Everything in there is empty. 

"They really abandoned this place, didn't they?" Dr. Anti mutters. "Well, at least they were courteous enough to take out the garbage." He walks up to the glass doors leading into the lab. "Another card reader. Alt? D'you want to try that thing again?"

Alt stands up once he realizes this isn’t the right place. 

He hears Dr. Anti and glitches over to the door, wordlessly zapping the card reader with his magic again.

The red light flickers, but doesn't disappear. "...huh." Dr. Anti blinks. 

JJ watches this happen. You've probably spent a lot of energy, Alt. It's okay, we can find some other way in. 

Alt looks a bit unnerved but the fact that his magic wasn’t enough. But he nods to JJ’s logic. Alt

Jackie immediately walks over and punches the glass. "Ow!" 

"Jackie!" Dr. Anti stares at him in shock. "You dumb bastard!" 

"I've punched through glass before!" 

Alt jumps a bit then hides a laugh behind his hand. “J-Jackie..!” 

"Your wrist is sprained!" Dr. Anti shoves him aside. "You probably just made it worse! Go fucking--rest. Actually take care of yourself for once." 

JJ laughs silently. Do you still have that card thing, Anti? Do you think it will work? Dr. Anti hesitates. "Mmmmaybe?"

Alt touches the door- then tries to see if he can just glitch inside.

Yep. He's on the other side easily enough. 

"Oh." Dr. Anti blinks. "That works, too." He checks his pockets, pulling out a wallet. "But now I'm curious... nope, I don't even have it with me. Nevermind." 

"You dumb bastard!" Jackie says jokingly. 

"Well I'm not going to carry around some PUPIL shit after what they did to Marvin!" 

JJ rolls his eyes. Can you open it from the other side, Alt? 

Alt tries to look for a way to open the door, chuckling at the banter between Jackie and Anti.

Looks like it just opens when pushed. The others file in as soon as Alt opens the door. 

JJ looks around. So... the trash bins, then? 

"Yippeeeee," Jackie comments. 

"There's ones all along the walls, let's all get searching," Dr. Anti says.

“Oh yay, love me a bin scavenger hunt,” Alt drones with sarcasm. He glitches around, peeking inside. Most of them are empty. “…I am glad we’re not actually shifting through trash though-“

"Yeah, lucky," Jackie says. 

There are a surprising number of trash cans in the big lab, so it takes longer than expected. But eventually, Alt sees a glint in the bottom of one. A small copper ring, with other copper rings inside it, a series of concentric circles tied by a wire that sticks out on one side. The whole thing is intricate in its smallness, only as big as a fingertip. 

Alt brightens up at the glint then carefully grabs the piece- marveling at how small it is. Something this intricate must be it! “I think I found it!” He calls, putting it in the bag quickly so he doesn’t lose it. 

Then there's a knock on the glass doors leading to the lab. On the other side--Bro, Chase, Marvin, and a little girl in Marvin's arms, blinking sleepily (she got tired of climbing stairs.)

Alt glitches up in a bit of fear at the knock then sees it’s the others… and Skyler. His expression lightens up and he relaxes. “…you found her.” 

Bro smiles, “Yup! Safe and sound~! And sounds like you have the piece! Mission accomplished gentlemen!!” He beams. 

Jackie hurries over to open up the door. "Hullo, Sky!" 

"Jackie!" Skyler smiles tiredly. "Hi!" 

JJ and Dr. Anti hurries over. 

"How are you?" Dr. Anti asks in an unusually soft voice. "You're not hurt, are you?" 

"I'm tired. But no, Uncle Anti." 

"That's good." Dr. Anti nods. "If you feel anything weird, you tell us, okay?" 

"Mm-hmm." 

JJ smiles down at Skyler. We're going to get you home, okay? 

"Mmmm-hmm." 

Alt smiles warmly as the others check over Skyler. Then, he looks away, holding his arms. 

Bro sees this and comes over, pulling Alt into a side hug. “…you okay?” Bro asks. 

Alt nods, not looking at him, but not glitching away either. 

Bro looks down at him in concern but doesn’t say anything. He’s pretty sure he gets it. He felt that all too. 

"So if you guys found it, we can just leave right away, then?" Chase asks. "This place makes me nervous. And, uh... Shattered might be coming after us soon."

Once Chase asks, the Brody Brothers look up then nod to each other. “Yeah, we can head out.” Bro says. 

“…I can glitch you all to your car- but I understand if we’d rather just walk cuz uh- Skyler.” Alt says quietly. Bro can tell Alt wants so badly to go over and meet her- but he’s holding himself back.

Marvin looks over at Alt. He blinks, and smiles. "Yeah. That's probably safer, for now. Hey sweets, this is Bro's brother, Alt." 

Skyler looks over at him--and gasps. "Sparkly eyes!" 

Marvin laughs. "Yeah, he has cool eyes, doesn't he? He helped us find this place." 

"Sparrrrklyyyy," Skyler whispers in awe.

Alt blinks over at Marvin and Skyler- then his face melts into an easy warm smile. He touches over his chest. “…she likes my eyes?” He whispers. 

“They are really cool-“ Bro laughs. 

Alt walks over and bends down a bit to be more at Skyler’s level. “Hi Skyler… it’s nice to meet you! We were all really worried, I’m glad you’re okay!”

"Hi!" Skyler smiles a little. "Yeah, I'm okay. It was just uh... I dunno." 

"Confusing, right?" Marvin says. "Don't worry, we're heading home now, things will be less confusing there." 

"Okay." 

As the group heads back to the stairwell, Skyler turns around in Marvin's arms to look at Alt. "Why're your eyes sparkly? Is it like Anti's thing?"

Alt blinks then smiles, “Kinda. They didn’t always use to be like this though.” 

“Yeah when we were younger, his eyes looked just like mine!” Bro grins, pointing at his eyes. 

Alt chuckles, “but, like how your uncle Chase does magic, I do too. But I didn’t know I had magic until I was in very big trouble one day- then boom! I glitched out of the trouble and my eyes changed colors.” He smiles at her, “Pretty cool, huh?” 

"Whoaaa." Skyler's eyes go wide. "That's a lot like what happened with Uncle Chase!" 

Chase coughs. "Uh--Sky, wh-what are you talking about?" 

"Dad said that you were in trouble one day and your magic saved you!" 

Chase looks at Marvin, slightly alarmed. 

"She was asking about it," Marvin whispers. "I didn't share any details." 

"Well... that's true, Skyler," Chase says slowly. "But, uh... I'll tell you more when you're much older, okay?"

Bro looks over to Chase with concern, then nods to him with a knowing look in his eyes. He gets it. Chase nods back to Bro, relieved to not have to explain it out loud. 

Skyler nods. "D'you think that if I get in trouble I'll get magic? Or my eyes will change color?" 

"Don't go putting yourself in danger, Sky," Marvin says firmly. "It's more likely that nothing will happen, y'know? Except for you getting hurt." 

"Okay." 

The group is heading down the stairs now. 

Alt nods seriously towards Skyler, “…your dad is right. …I got in that situation because I was always putting myself in danger… I was… not a good kid. I probably could have gotten my magic in a much safer way… had I been more careful.” He then looks at her and smiles. “But hey? Who knows… magic is all around us. Maybe you’ll come across your own kind of magic some day.”

Skyler nods, taking this seriously. "Okay. Maybe I'll get powers like Uncle JJ did." 

JJ laughs, and types on his communication device. "That was also pretty dangerous, Skyler. You have to be careful, okay?" 

"Yeah, I know." Skyler nods again, then rests her head on Marvin's shoulder. 

Bro and Alt share a glance and a small laugh, smiling at Skyler. 

The group heads down the stairwell until they eventually reach the ground floor. JJ is out in front, pushing the door open and leading the group down the hallway into the lobby. And... as soon as they reach that room... there's a strange cracking sound in the air behind them.

Once in the new room, Alt’s guard is up, a shiver running down his spine. He whips around towards the noise, green magic lighting up on his fingers.

The cracking noise suddenly breaks, and the air seems to shatter. Chase whirls around, conjuring up a shield that blocks most of the shards that fly out, but gets shredded as a result. 

Shattered suddenly lunges forward, and manages to grab onto the nearest person--Bro. "You bastards!" he snarls. "You tricked me!" A loud sound comes from behind him, a sound like tinkling glass, like wind chimes. The air around him seems to fracture, kaleidoscope patterns moving in an intriguing pattern.

"No!" Jackie gasps. "Don't look!"

Bro cries out and tries to pull himself away, “H-Hey! Let go-!” He tries to say- but then his eyes widen as the air fractures into those… beautiful intricate patterns. Seemingly getting pulled into its thrall. 

“No, Chase!” Alt cries out. 

But Bro squeezes his eyes shut and easily seems to shake off the effects, grabbing Shattered’s wrist and throwing him off him. “D-Don’t try that freaky shit on me!“ 

Shattered staggers back, breaking up the pattern. 

"Go go go!" Dr. Anti shouts, pushing Marvin and Skyler towards the doorway. He staggers and then runs, clutching her to his chest. Bro staggers back then rushes after Marvin and Skyler- ready to protect them. 

"Go where?!" Shattered suddenly grabs Anti, pulling him back into the pattern. "None of you are leaving!" 

JJ rushes forward, thwacking Shattered in the face with his staff. There's a Crak! sound and Shattered stumbles back once more, letting JJ grab Dr. Anti and pull him out. 

"Anti!" he types into the brace. "Wake up!" 

Dr. Anti leans heavily against JJ. His eyes are overcome by a strange pattern, blue and black kaleidoscope shards. "I--I--" 

Shattered regains his balance. "Doctor!" he shouts. "Bring them to me!" 

Anti blinks slowly--and then shoves JJ backwards and lunges towards Alt. He latches onto him and starts pulling him back. 

Alt hesitates, horrified by watching Shattered grab Anti and affect him. So he’s not at all prepared at all for Anti to grab him. He yells out in surprise and tries to pull himself away. “h-Hey! Other me l-let go!” 

"Let go?" Dr. Anti repeats idly, his grip loosening. 

"Don't let go!" Shattered shouts, and Anti's grip tightens again. "Bring them here!" 

Dr. Anti nods and resumes dragging Alt back.

 "No!" Chase looks back and forth between Dr. Anti and Shattered. He conjures up a shield that glows bright yellow, blocking Anti's way to Shattered. "Guys! Shake him out of it!" 

JJ recovers and runs forward again, trying to push Anti away from Alt. With his help, Alt manages to pull free of Anti's grip.

Alt glitches back away from Anti with wide eyes- shaking a bit. “F-Fucking hell- t-That’s his hypnosis??” It’s so different from anything he’s ever seen- …it’s kinda pretty though- in a dangerous sort of way. He glares then glitches around the shield and tries to tackle Shattered away.

Shattered immediately vanishes, letting Alt run pass him. "No no no, that won't work again," he says. 

"Alt!" Chase gasps, unconsciously dropping the shield. "The fuck are you doing?!" He throws out a hand and grabs Alt with his magic, trying to drag him back. "Let's go! The car is right outside!" 

JJ grabs onto Dr. Anti, pulling him back. Jackie runs up to him and shakes him slightly. "Don't listen to him don't listen to him!" Jackie says. 

"No, don't listen to HIM!" Shattered shouts. 

Dr. Anti's head rolls back and forth between them, his expression conflicted. 

"God damn it!" Chase turns his attention back to Anti, throwing out a hand. Yellow magic wraps around Anti's head, covering his ears and eyes.

Alt yelps as he’s grabbed by Chase and struggles back. “I-I can distract him while you guys get everyone outside! We’re pretty well matched! Then I can glitch into the car once you all are safe!” He looks at Chase with determined eyes.

Chase hesitates... then nods. "Okay," he breathes. And he lets go, spinning around. "Go go go go go!" 

Jackie bolts for the door, and JJ follows, dragging Dr. Anti along. Chase backs up slowly, keeping a shield in front to protect the others. 

Shattered's attention immediately turns to Alt. He laughs. "How brave of you, Magician!" 

Bro looks at the others coming his way and looks back with panic towards the end of the hall, “Alt!” 

Alt grins, his eyes flashing. “I’ll give you a run for your money, bitch!” He makes a knife out of magic and glitches around to draw his eye around before trying to stab him with it in the shoulder.

Shattered's eyes dart around to keep track of him and then yelps in surprise when Alt is suddenly right in front of him, stabbing him. It doesn't feel like stabbing a person--it feels more akin to stabbing through a thin bit of wood. "Oh! Very good!" He grins. "Do you want to see mine?" His left hand draws back, and the air around it seems to break as he suddenly stabs towards Alt's stomach with a transparent shard.

Alt yells out in surprise and winces, then blinks as it just barely hurts. He laughs in Shattered’s face, “Ha! That’s nothing!” He grins and poofs away his knife then goes to try to shock Shattered. “Try this!”

Shattered snaps backwards, falling to the ground, electricity racing along his metal arm. For a moment, he looks very disoriented indeed, blinking up at Alt like he's never seen him before. But then he takes in the threatening look on his face. He disappears and reappears back in a standing position. The wall next to Alt makes another one of those cracking sounds and more glass-like shards burst outwards from it.

Alt quickly glitches back and forth to dodge the shards- all of them just hardly missing him. He pants then glares at Shattered, building up more magic in his hands. He sends out a wave of sound to try to disorient him.

The moment the soundwave hits Shattered, he cries out and claps his hands over his ears. The cracks on him seem to widen and he backs up, then falls to his knees. "Nein! Nein, bitte, nicht mehr! Bitte hör auf!" 

Alt looks down at him in surprise, momentarily caught off guard. Especially as he shouts out in such distress. “S-Schneep-“ He whispers.

Back in the lobby, Chase is pushing JJ and Dr. Anti out of the door. He spins around. "Alt!" he shouts. "Get out of there!" 

Alt’shead turns towards the others and he spares one more glance at Shattered before he glitches down the hall. 

Chase runs over and grabs Alt by the hand, pulling him out the door. Everyone else is already in the car, and Marvin has it started and running. JJ leans out the open back door and whistles for them to get in. He, Jackie, and Anti are in the back seat, while Bro is in the passenger's side and Skyler is sitting on the floor between the two middle seats.

Alt lets himself get grabbed and runs with Chase, hurrying into the car with eveyone else. “I-I think I managed to throw him off enough! Let’s get out of here!” He tells Marvin.

The moment the door closes Marvin throws the van into gear. "Hold on, Sky!" he shouts, and Skyler holds onto Alt's leg as Marvin slams on the gas and the van goes flying down the street.

Alt doesn’t get into a seat he just holds onto Skyler as the van moves, curling up around her instinctively.

Marvin doesn't slow down until Project Street is well out of sight. Only then does he relax. The van gradually slows and eventually stops as Marvin pulls to the side of the road. He looks back at the others. "Who's hurt? What's up with Anti?" 

"Chase and JJ are still bleeding from that first attack," Jackie says. "Anti's still in it." 

Dr. Anti is squished up against the window of the van, head rolled back. 

"Anti, answer me!" Jackie shakes him slightly. 

"I--I--" Anti's voice sounds choked up.

Alt blinks up and uncurls from around Skyler. He blinks in confusion at Dr. Anti and furrows his brow in concern. “…he’s supposed to listen to suggestions from anyone right?” He glitches up into a chair and looks down at Anti, “Anti! Break out of this! Come on, you gonna let that bitch win??” 

Anti blinks at Alt for a moment, looking confused... And then something about Alt gets through to him, and abruptly the fractal designs in his eyes disappear as he snaps back to reality. "Fuck!" he gasps. "H-holy shit, I forgot what that..." He shudders. "I... f-fuck." 

Jackie puts a hand on your shoulder. "You're okay," he says softly. "He can't get to you right now." 

"Y-yeah, I know." Dr. Anti squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. "God."

Alt relaxes a bit and slumps into the seat. “Whew… good-“ 

Bro goes and punches Alt on the shoulder once it feels like eveyone can breathe again. 

Alt yelps out in surprise then glares at Bro as he rubs it. “What??” 

Bro glares at Alt back, “You fucking dumbass! You could have gotten yourself caught in that shit! You know how susceptible you are!” 

“I was the only one who could have gotten away fast enough without him getting anyone else!” Alt bites back, “And it worked didn't it?!” 

Marvin sighs. "He just wants you to take care of yourself, yknow," he says, turning back to look at Alt. Then he glances at Bro. "And he just wanted to make sure everyone was alright." Then he looks back and forth between the two of them. "Good intentions all around. And it's in the past now." 

"Y-yeah..." Chase nods. "We're all safe. There's no reason to fight right now. I think. A-and I was hanging back, Bro, I could've grabbed him if something happened."

Bro pouts a bit at this as the two brothers stare each other down. Then they both seem to deflate at the same time and nod. “…right - thanks for watching out for him, other me.” 

Chase nods. "Yeah." He glances at Alt. "Though your brother is, uh, very capable--as I'm sure you know." 

Alt crosses his arms, still a bit heated but trying to calm down. Or maybe that’s just the adrenaline still pumping in his veins. “…we got the piece, so… I guess we should probably be on our way… since Skyler is safe now.” Alt says quietly.

"You're gonna go?" Skyler asks, sounding a bit disappointed. 

"Yeah, sweets, they're on an important, uh, mission," Marvin says. "They were so nice to help us find you when they had something else to do." 

"Oh." Skyler looks up at Alt with big brown eyes. "Are you gonna come back? To, um, visit?"

Alt looks down at Skyler with conflicted eyes. He looks back at the rest of them and Bro does the same. “…do you all want us to come back and visit?” Alt asks quietly, kneeling down next to Skyler but glancing at the rest. “…cuz I think Anti saved the address here… so… we could.” He smiles at her. “If you want.”

"Hell yeah, bro." Chase grins. "It's so cool to meet another version of me! And you're bada--you're really cool, Alt." 

"You correct bad-A but not hell?" Marvin mutters. 

"...oops." 

Marvin laughs. "Anyway, yeah, I think you guys are really cool too. And... anyone who's willing to drop everything to help my daughter is good in my book." 

I'd love to spend more time together in a less stressful situation, JJ says. 

Jackie whoops. "I mean--how often do you meet people from other universes?! That's fu-fricking amazing! And you guys are, too!" 

Dr. Anti nods. "...I wouldn't mind," he says quietly. 

"Oooo, that's a ringing endorsement from the doc, trust me," Jackie laughs. 

Alt blinks and then grins. Bro does too, pumping his fist into the air, “Heck yeah! New friends let’s goooo!!” 

Alt laughs and then smiles at Skyler, “Then it sounds like we’ll be back someday! Maybe soon- we just gotta finish up this important thing okay?”

Anti speaks up from Alt's phone. "Time can be inconsistent between worlds, but I doubt it will vary more than a year between worlds this similar. So... make a note of that. I probably won't be here next time." 

"Honestly, I keep forgetting about you," Jackie comments. 

"I've been busy recharging." 

"You can come too, of course," JJ says, typing into his brace. "We could meet properly." 

"I have a lot of stuff to do back home, but thanks." Anti's voice softens just a bit. 

"So, within a year, maybe," Chase nods. "I'll make a note of that!"

Alt looks a bit sad about that but he smiles and nods, “Okay- that’s at least good to keep in mind.” He leans down and pokes Skyler’s nose cheekily, “Don’t get too big before we can visit again, okay? Maybe we can even bring some of our other friends who are your age!” He grins. 

“Oh god yeah, Kelsie and Alice would love you!” Bro beams.

Skyler grabs her nose, giggling. "Really?" 

"Multi-dimensional playdate." Marvin chuckles. "That would be fun." 

Skyler smiles shyly. "O-okay! That would be fun!" 

Alt smiles warmly, “Okay- then sometime in the future, we’ll see you all again.” 

"So... when you're ready to go, I suggest getting out of the car," Anti says. "Opening a rift in a place this cramped might not be good."

Alt opens the car door then glitches out right outside. He looks at JJ, Jackie and Dr. Anti. He nods to them and smiles. “…thanks guys.” 

No, thank YOU, JJ says, smiling. But... you're welcome, too. 

Bro laughs and climbs out, ruffling up Skyler’s hair as he goes. Then he waves wildly, “Thanks for helping us guys! Get Skyler home safe, okay?” 

"We will," Marvin promises. 

Alt then takes out his phone and nods to Anti, “okay… ready.”

Anti nods back. The screen becomes colorful static, and then green lightning unzips a rift in midair next to them. 

"Whoa..." Jackie leans out to look at it. 

"That's crazy," Dr. Anti mutters. 

"Bye guys!" Chase waves. "See you again!"

Alt grins and waves. Bro waves wildly with a big smile. Then they both hop into the rift- heading off to the next world.

The whole group waves at them as they go. Skyler smiles excitedly, waving the hardest.

[inej-ruination-ghafa]

evermore - T

evermore masterlist | closure | its time to go

Warnings: mentions of death, ptsd, mental health issues, kissing, blood, violence mentions

Summary: you loved the safe haven but you could never truly get over the events that allowed you to get here and the people you lost along the way.

Wordcount: 1.1k

It had been three months since you and Thomas had arrived at the safe haven. It was a cold gray November and you were used to the sunny landscape of the maze and this was different. The winds were blowing cold in yours and Thomas’ shared hut and you sat on the bed, blanket wrapped around your figure. 

You two had met after you had escaped from your maze, the two of you meeting at the facility before mourning through the scorch together. 

You don’t know how you would have survived without Thomas, if he hadn’t demanded that you didn't follow Janson then you would have been drained of blood and you wouldn’t be here right now. 

He had fallen for you first when you grabbed a bomb when WICKED infiltrated the rebel base. He had stood by your side then and he had stood by you ever since. 

You’d both been through hardships that no other 18 year old would have gone through, you’d lost countless friends, those you had considered as family. Every day you wondered what you could have done to save Chuck, or Teresa, or Newt. There must have been something you could do. You would replay your footsteps every time, trying to find out what went wrong. 

You both drove yourselves crazy with the what ifs, the only thing that grounded you was each other. So whenever you’d have a nightmare or he would, you would be there for each other. Unconditionally. 

You took a deep breath, staring at the poor excuse of a window in your hut - they were still working on manufacturing glass - as the wind swept through. 

As the cold drove itself into your bones, you wondered if maybe the cold feeling would kill you too. It was a constant fear, they'd already lost a few people to minor accidents: a bacterial infection, a broken leg, and drowning. It was always difficult to bury people, especially when their bodies don’t come back. 

Thomas walked in when you were drowning in your own thoughts, holding plywood to cover up the window to stop the draft. He placed it down and instantly sat down next to you, knowing that something was up. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, arm wrapped around you and when you didnt answer he sighed, already knowing the answer, “Just one of those days?”

You nodded, leaning your head against his shoulder, “Guess I just can’t remember what I’m fighting for sometimes,” you said, sniffling because of the cold. 

Thomas nodded his head. He knew how it felt to lose people as well and you two were going on this journey together. He had days where he was emotionally exhausted as well and you just had to be there for one another. 

You would constantly rewind the tape back to that moment where you ran into the courtyard in the last city, seeing Newt lying on the floor, blood in his mouth and a knife jabbed into his chest, his eyes open and at peace. 

You’d go back to that moment where time slowed as Rachel fell to the ground, gunshots echoing through the maze and the holes beginning to fill her body, her blood pouring out like a sif. She hadn’t even had time to comprehend it before WICKED were pulling her out, promising that they were ‘saving her’.

You’d go back to the moment where Teresa didn't make it. You wish you’d been there for her and Thomas but you were on that ship, pulling Thomas’ bloodied and bruised body into your arms. The sobs had escaped your mouth before you even realised and before you knew it the building was collapsing and Teresa fell with it. 

You’d go back to that moment when you were walking through the scorch and the gunshot echoed through the deserted land. You had turned back to see Winston's body falling in the distance, like he didn't even mean a thing. 

“Hey,” he said and his soft voice pulled you out of your thoughts that you were drowning in, “We’re fighting for us, for this life that the safe haven has promised,”

You sighed, your voice shaky, “But what about everyone else. They’re not coming back and they don’t get to experience this,” you explained, lifting your head off of his shoulder to look at him. 

He looked at you and sighed, reaching a hand forward and placing it on your cheek, watching as you leant into the warmth, “It’s never going to go away and we both know this, that gnawing feeling in your chest that makes you feel like you’re drowning,” Thomas explained, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips, “But its going to be okay because I’ve got you,”

You couldn’t not think about the cost of it all but for now you just had to pause it and live in the moment. You knew you couldn’t spend the rest of your life dwelling on whether or not you can save them. You just had to let go eventually. 

“I guess so,” you said. 

Thomas nodded, “And the safe haven is better. Vince is going to look for more of the immune soon and we’ll have more people. And there’s already been so much progress, a marriage, two pregnancies. It’s going to get better,” he said. 

You knew that you could count on his reassuring words because even though you were struggling, he was too and you would always be there for him when he had days like this, days where he just wanted to lie in bed and hold you close. 

And whenever you were worried, you thought about him. About the way that he would savage you no matter what it meant and it was enough to get you through the days. It had gotten you through the scorch and then the rebellion and now your escape into the safe haven. 

“They’d be happy for us wouldn’t they,” you said. 

He chuckled lightly and smiled, “Yeah, and you know what baby, theyd want us to be happy,” he said and you nodded at his sentiment. 

Thomas stood up, reaching a hand out for you and you stood up, the floors of the the hut creaking out from under your step, “Just let me hold you,” he said and you smiled, allowing him to pull you in for a hug, “I love you,”

“I love you too,” you said, your words muffled against his chest. 

You sighed as you allowed yourself to melt into his warm embrace. You knew that the feeling was never going to go away but maybe, just maybe, the pain wouldn’t be for evermore because you had each other. 

[broken-clover]

15- Prizes

Trying my hand at writing Bugsnax again. This one has more of a plot but it was still fun to muck about with, having everyone playing games together.

Takes place after the second celebration event with the ghost stories, and after chandlo and snorpy return to Snaxburg. It's mostly Filbo-centric, but it has a little bit of everyone who's currently in town

-

The trouble had all begun when Filbo dragged out the plywood.

After the last attempt at a party devolved into ghost stories and paranoia, he’d apparently decided he had to make up for it somehow with another little shindig. The others had amused him, partly out of pity and partly out of curiosity. Filbo might have been a lousy mayor, but he was at least creative when he wanted to be. Got the paint out and everything.

Still, nobody was quite prepared for whatever had been brewing in his brain until they were summoned to the nightly campfire.

“Um…”

“What the grump did you do, Fil-Bro?”

Cyan paws awkwardly wound around each other. “I made some games for us to play!” He announced. “Uh, there’s cornhole, there’s horseshoes, and I found enough magnets to make a little fishing game!”

Everyone looked on in grotesque curiosity, like the way one would look at a small, ugly animal. The stalls were visibly handmade and crude, but had enough effort put in to hold together. Filbo had slapped together a tiny carnival, and nobody was quite sure what to do with that fact.

Beffica pointed to a nearby table, stacked high with, to an outsider’s eye, miscellaneous junk of no purpose. “What’s with the table?”

“That? Oh! That’s, uh-” Filbo turned sheepish. “I thought it’d be a little more motivating if I made prizes. A-a lot of it’s just some things I had in storage, but Buddy helped me get some supplies to make stuff!”

“Huh, was wonderin’ what you’d asked me about knitting for…” Gramble said, eyeing a slightly misshapen, knitted approximation of a bunger by the edge of the pile.

Despite his efforts, and enthusiastic grin, nobody seemed particularly enthused themselves. Tiffany, ever the polite one, stepped forward.

“Suppose we can play a coupla rounds, yah?” She glanced at her neighbors. “We’ve all been workin’ real hard lately, a lil’ game might be good fer us!”

“Dibs on the horseshoes!” Chandlo scrambled to the pile. “Tossing metal’s gotta be some great exercise, bro!” He picked up a horseshoe and spun it around on one finger. “C’mon, Snorp-dawg! Let’s work on those arms!”

“Wasting time on frivolities when the Grumpinati are on the move…I’d much rather spend the time with my diagrams, but if you so insist, Chandlo…” Snorpy trailed off after him, far less hesitant than his voice suggested.

“Th- that’s great, you guys!” Filbo perked up. “Beffica, you wanna play a game?”

“Eh.”

“O-oh…” He moved on to the next. “Wiggle, how about you?”

She thought it over for a moment. “Hmm…while not very glamorous, I’ve heard inspiration can come from odd places. As long as it doesn’t get my fur wet, fishing might be fun!”

Filbo handed her a homemade fishing rod. She felt the weight in her paws, and looked over at the prize table. “And besides, I could do with a new accessory. It’s hard to find anything fashionable here, but those hairclips might just give my look a new bit of flair!”

Beffica immediately snapped to attention. “Hey, hold on there, those clips are mine!”

“Oh, pssh! I can hear them caaaalling out to me, darling! It’s only natural.”

“You are on, Wigglebottom!” Beffica looked over to their host. “How do I win those things, squeeb?”

“Well, uh, I was gonna have whoever won pick whatever prize they wanted from the table, nothing really planned out. All the fish have numbers on the bottom, whichever of you catches the bigger number wins!”

“Wait a sec, it’s that easy?” Cromdo butted in.

“Uhh, yeah, why?”

He grinned, showing off his fangs. “Simple economics, Fiddlepie. If I win that little trinket, then I can make those two fight each other for the highest bid! It’s supply and demand! I supply, then demand a big payload for it!”

“I dunno if that’s-”

“Outta the way, ladies! Lemme show you how an expert fishes!” Cromdo rushed by, nearly butting the two head-on to make space for himself.

Despite that, Filbo had cheered up considerably. “They’re actually playing the games! Gramble, what about-

“Oh, blast it!”

Everyone ducked as a horseshoe narrowly sailed over their heads. Snorpy crossed his arms and scowled. “This accursed thing is clearly defective, most likely a grumpinati creation designed solely to deceive me! I cannot get it anywhere near the pegs!”

“Chill, Snorp-dawg, deep breaths. You’re letting go of ‘em too late.” Picking up another shoe, Chandlo stood behind the other grumpus and directed his arm. “You gotta focus on where it’s going. C’mon. Feel the horseshoe, be the horseshoe.”

“Maybe bein’ near those two ain’t a good idea…” Gramble doddered off towards the cornhole board. This looks simple enough, ah guess.” He picked up a homemade beanbag from the top of the pile.

“You get three beanbags! Just toss ‘em at the board, and wherever they land, that’s your score!” Said Filbo.

“Uh-huh. Jus’ toss ‘em,” after a few test swings, he tossed one gently at the board, as though he could injure it. The bag limply slid along the surface, stopping around halfway up. “Five points! Nicely done, if I do say so!”

Tiffany clapped her paws together. “Good job! Mind if I give it a go?”

Filbo winced at the sound of someone growling. Beffica waggled the fishing rod over the little pool of fake fish, but was struggling to catch any.

“Don’t look at me like that, squeeb! Your game’s broken!”

“Sheesh, Beff, c’mon. That’s not how ya hold a fishing rod!” Before he could attempt a reply, Cromdo stepped in, doing a quick flick of the wrist on both hands to toss the fishing line down. “Like that, see? Gotta use your wrists more.”

“...Wrists, huh?” She tried an experimental swing, copying the salesman.

Another beanbag thumped against the board. “Wa-ha! I got four points! But I’ll get better aim next time, Gramble, so don’t you go thinkin’ you’ve got this in the bag, yah?”

She gestured for her husband to join. “C’mon, Wamby, it’ll be fun!”

“No.”

“But look at that lil’ organizer right there! Weren’tcha sayin’ you wanted something like that for yer gardening supplies?”

His expression didn’t change, but there was a twinkle in his eyes. “Fine. If that’s what I gotta do to get it…”

Still, he stood back, unengaged. The two players gave another toss, with Triffany scoring a six, and Gramble’s bag skidding along until it settled right by the open hole by the top, scoring nine.

“Ha! Already gettin’ it right by the hole! I must be some kinda cornhole expert!”

A scoff came from behind them.

“Feh. Y’all ain’t foolin’ anyone, you wanna see a real cornhole expert do his thing?”

Triffany lit up with a pleased grin, tossing Wambus a bag. “Wanna put yer snaks where yer mouth is, eh?”

“With pleasure.” Without any warmup, without any practice swing, Wambus snapped his wrist and sent the bag soaring. It slid up the slick surface of the board, butting into Gramble’s last bag and falling neatly into the hole with a hollow thud.

“W-wha-” Gramble’s mouth dropped open.

“Wamby, I-” Tiffany was equally shocked, eyes wide. “I didn’t know ya had that kinda aim!”

Wambus blew on his knuckles and buffed them against his vest. “Cornhole. Showed up at every county fair I ever went to. Won my first trowel as a young’un beating the town record.”

“Gosh, whenever I think I’ve learned everything there is to know about ya, there’s still surprises!”

Filbo looked on in pride. Next door, Snorpy had finally gotten the hang of horseshoe-throwing thanks to Chandlo’s guidance, and the two were playfully bantering as they tried to outdo one another. Meanwhile, both Wiggle and Beffica were still attempting to copy Cromdo’s skilled line-casting, and Cromdo, who looked far cheerier than Filbo had seen him, probably ever, was soaking up the attention of playing teacher. Outside of friendly teasing, everyone was getting along. After last time, he hadn’t been expecting much success, but this was more a success than he could have imagined.

[sramfact]

The globalplywood market size is projected to grow from USD 54.2 billion in 2022 to USD 73.3 billion by 2027, at a CAGR of 6.2%. The increasing demand for plywood from end uses, such as building & construction, packaging, industrial, and furniture sector, drives the market. Demand for multifarious plywood is encouraged by many companies to formulate different developmental strategies in the plywood market to expand their footprint in the market. The companies have adopted various strategies, such as investment & expansion, merger & acquisition, new product launches, and joint ventures to increase their global presence and maintain sustained growth in the plywood market.  

The plywood market in the Asia Pacific is forecasted to register the highest CAGR, in terms of value, between 2022 and 2027. Asia Pacific is a rapidly developing region that offers many opportunities for various industry players. Most of the leading players in North America and Europe are planning to move their production base to this region because of the availability of inexpensive raw materials, low production costs, and the need to serve the local market better. The demand for premium products is increasing in the region with the growth in the middle-class population. Government initiatives are also helping in the growth of the wooden sectors. These factors will play an important role in driving the plywood market.

There are various small, medium, and large players operating in the market. Some of the major market players include Boise Cascade Company (US), Weyerhaeuser Company Ltd (US), Upm-Kymmene Oyj (Finland), Sveza Forest Ltd (Russia), Austral Plywoods Pty Ltd (Australia), Potlatchdeltic Corporation (US), Greenply Industries (India), Metsä Wood (Metsäliitto Cooperative) (Finland), Centuryply (India), Austin Plywood (India). They have adopted various developmental strategies such as investment & expansions, new product launches, mergers & acquisitions, and joint ventures to increase their share in the market.

[twistedmindtales]

Beneath the Surface

Gary's cozy beachfront shanty was his haven of solitude, nestled between swaying palm trees and the endless expanse of the ocean. His mornings were greeted by a soft symphony of waves crashing onto the shore, the soothing lullaby that had become the soundtrack of his life. He had retired early from his demanding job, and now his days were spent in quiet contemplation. 

Inside the tiny dwelling, the walls were littered with photographs of his scuba diving adventures. Each image captured a different facet of the underwater world he cherished. On a crude plywood table was a beautiful saltwater aquarium, a living homage to his underwater escapades and the centerpiece of his home. The aquarium was teeming with vibrant fish of all different breeds from clownfish to lionfish to parrotfish. They were his constant companions that filled the void left by the absence of human interaction in his younger days. 

Gary loved scuba diving more than anything else. Beneath the surface was his sanctuary. He felt like a different person, free from the weight of the world. 

On a particularly lazy Sunday, Gary descended into the depths and marveled at the kaleidoscope of colors that greeted him. The ocean floor resembled a sprawling underwater garden covered in life and vibrancy. Sunlight filtered through the water, casting an enchanting glow on the coral formations below. 

As Gary swam through the underwater paradise, a flicker of movement caught his eye. This was no ordinary fish that swam by; this was something much bigger than expected with a unique movement pattern. At first, he dismissed it as a trick of the light or his imagination running wild. But as he turned his gaze, there it was – the silhouette of a mermaid. As he drew closer, her ethereal beauty was beyond anything he had ever seen. Her shimmering tail swayed gracefully, and her long, flowing hair trailed behind her like a silken veil. Her sapphire eyes held a depth of emotion that drew him in like a magnet. 

For a moment, time stood still as Gary and the mermaid locked eyes. Then she gracefully approached him as each of their curiosity piqued. The mermaid circled him slowly as he tried to turn in place and follow her movements. Remarkably, as the mermaid began to communicate through hand gestures and expressions that transcending the boundaries of language, Gary was somehow able to understand! The mermaid introduced herself as Serena, and Gary's heart raced with disbelief as he signaled his own name. 

They got to know each other well that day and as the sun began to fall, Serena grabbed Gary’s hands in hers, putting them close to her heart. Gary hadn’t felt anything like this in his entire life and just as he leaned in to kiss her, Serena released his hands and began swimming away with a sly smirk. Just before she swam into the dark abyss and was completely out of sight, she blew Gary a kiss. 

Days turned into weeks, and Gary's visits to Serena became a ritual. They explored the silent underwater realm together, sharing the beauty of their respective worlds. Gary felt a profound connection with Serena, and their friendship evolved into something deeper. He found himself falling in love with her, and her radiant smile seemed to mirror his feelings. 

One evening, Gary was drinking rum and made a bold decision. He would introduce his scuba diving buddies to Serena, to share the magic he had found beneath the waves and, perhaps, find the validation he yearned. He had always been the laughingstock of the group and never quite earned the respect he felt he deserved. 

As he described Serena to the group, they mocked him relentlessly and showed no desire to entertain his fantastic story. 

“Right Gar, just like the time you had us go see the pirate treasure down below that turned out to a trunk filled with tin cans?” exclaimed Bill. 

“Or the time you said you had a boat for us to use and it was just a raft you made?” shouted Craig. 

Gary shook his head and slammed his fist on the bar. “No! I’m telling you this time she is real. If she’s not, I’ll buy everyone here drinks for the rest of your lives.” Hearing the seriousness in his voice and seeing the look in his eye, the laughter started fading. The offer was hard to refuse, even though he was extremely frugal, Gary did have a decent amount of money saved from the money he inherited, and they knew he was good for the drinks. 

Together, they embarked into the deep blue ocean anticipation filled the air like electricity. 

Deeper and deeper they dove until they started to see what looked like a coral palace. It seamlessly merged with the living reef, its walls formed from a mosaic of living corals, each with a unique mix of reds, pinks, and purples. The coral walls served both as structural support and as canvases for vibrant sea anemones and other marine life. Giant seashells with iridescent surfaces framed the entrance of the mermaid’s enchanting 

world. 

As they went inside, they were bathed in a soft, bioluminescent glow. Tiny, living light sources were embedded within the coral, casting an ethereal radiance that danced upon the walls and ceilings. The lighting provided a calming ambiance that echoed the serenity of the sea. Further ahead, Gary's friends were greeted by Serena who emerged from a coral archway. Her shimmering tail caught the light as she gracefully swam toward them. 

Remarkably, just as Gary had experienced, when Serena made hand signals to the group, they were able to sign back and communicate flawlessly! She repeated the same stories Gary had told them and admitted the two had fallen in love. She said there were more like her nearby and she would introduce the group to her friends if they promised to return the next time Gary took a dive. 

After what seemed like hours, the meeting came to an end with hugs and slow underwater high fives. The men then rushed to the surface to discuss what they had just experienced. 

But as soon as they resurfaced, the transformation was startling. Gary's friends looked at him with extreme disappointment. 

“Well, that is an hour we will never get back,” said one of the men as they pulled themselves onto the dock. 

Gary chuckled and buried his head in a towel as he dried off. “Right...wasn’t that amazing boys? I’m up for going back in tomorrow morning if you are!” 

In unison, the group began to walk away together shaking their heads and occasionally looking back at Gary. He put his hands up and shouted, “What the hell is going on?” 

Craig stopped and turned around. “You know what man? We are tired of your crap and honestly you need some help. There was nothing down there and you know it, Gary. Leave us alone, we don’t even want the free drinks you offered.” 

A bewildered look formed on Gary’s face as he watched the group fade into the night. He stood still in the spot for several minutes heartbroken and defeated. 

What the hell just happened? 

Is this a dream? 

AM I GOING NUTS? 

Without pausing to don his scuba mask or gear, Gary turned back around and plunged into the azure abyss. The water closed around him, he descended with the same fervor that had led him to Serena's embrace in the first place. But this time, there was a sense of finality, a resolute conviction that he belonged in the underwater world he had come to love. 

As days turned into weeks, Gary's friends became very worried despite their animosity towards him for telling tall tales. They organized extensive search parties and combed through the ocean’s depths exploring every alcove and corner. Despite their best efforts, no trace of him or Serena was ever found again. 

Copyright © 2023 TPS Worldwide LLC & Twisted Mind Tales. All Rights Reserved.

[things-about-cars-in-posts]

Just saw a logitech g25 selling for R$1600 (~US$300) (wheel, pedals, stick shift and a DIY plywood cockpit)

How do I kill captalism???? Also is there anything cheaper than that? (That is worth buying)

That's Brazilian Reals, right? (Damn, you Brazilians keep it so gangsta even your currency is real.)

I cannot offer advice on killing capitalism but I can offer advice on regulations! And one way to regulate high prices is through supply and demand, i.e. by not paying them.

Sim racing wheels -well these Logitechs anyway given their durability and old age- are something you absolutely want to buy used, so keep your eyes peeled on Listadecraig or whatever your local classifieds are: it may take time but some will pop up either close enough to you or able to ship and if you take your time and hedge your bets you're gonna strike a deal of some sort.

I mean, even capping our budget at R$1000 (at the edge of reasonable but still within it imo) hopping on OLX I found some 20 G27s. But oddly enough, only one G25? That's weird! I mean, there's like 10 between G29 and G920 (respectively, PS and Xbox oriented version of the same PC-compatible wheel - while they're not much better than the G27 and the shifter isn't included, both are newer and have more buttons and are thus valued more). Maybe the G25 is rare in Brazil for some reason, maybe it was never sold there? Idk. Point is, you may be better off looking for a G27 - I've seen one as low as R$650. Which, you know, I paid mine the equivalent of 425, but that was a bargain I had to hunt for months, and Brazil seems to be quite a different market. I don't know what your zone is and what shipping costs are like in your country but I would personally aim at R$800 - but that's mainly because it's half the G25 you found and I am someone that spite could push through mountains. You may be able to aim for even lower: you're gonna know your used markets the best, so check them yourself and I assure you you'll find a good deal at some point.

Sincerely wish you the best of luck, happy hunting!

[a-suspicious-lack-of-bagel]

I've been thinking about old railway uniforms, and come to the conclusion that the textiles could be INTERESTING in a steampunk world.

If steam power is widespread and commonplace, that means that there's going to be plenty of steam piping and/or boilers around. A lot of it would probably be insulated for safety and efficiency, but that still probably means that a significant part of the population has to work around HOT steam-powered equipment fairly often. I don't think that EVERYONE would necessarily be going around in protective double denim, but I think there'd just be less demand for fabrics with worse heat resistance.

That probably means that textile innovation wouldn't focus so hard on inventing New materials; but rather on improving natural fabrics. With a focus on mechanical innovation, I think your steampunk inventor would have an ENORMOUS array of linkages available to them - for converting a continuous mechanical input to various complicated and adjustable movement patterns. I think that having a lot more workers in hot environments would also lead to wide-spread use of mechanical refrigeration.

I've seen a few videos of industrial fabric-handling machines - they seem to have a Lot spiky metal fingers making repetitive movements. I think a steampunk world would be GREAT at making those little fingers do different, interesting patterns of movement! I recently saw a Matt Parker video about a continuous lattice of 7 different directions of pencil, and there was a cool animation of its cross-section. Imagine the funky patterns you could weave with thread going in more than 2 directions - either coplanar with eachother or in 3d space. All the cool decorative patterns woodworkers can do with plywood and veneer - imagine that with thread!

One of the reasons that a lot of tradespeople wore denim was because the pattern of the fabric obscured oil and grease stains. Could you achieve the same effect with the above funky patterns if they were dense enough? SO many workwear fashion options. And if you've got hot steam on tap as well as decent refrigeration - heat treatment would be easy to incorporate. What sort of interesting features would they be heat-setting into their clothes?

And if you want to build any sort of articulated machine/robot with steam as the power source; you need something to carry that steam - a flexible, high-pressure, heat resistant pipe. That sounds like a braided hose to me - and if you're using more colourful metals than stainless steel, your steam plumbing could get COLOURFUL! You know how we have braided hoses with a red or blue strand for hot or cold water? JUST IMAGINE the industry standard colour coding schemes for different temperatures, pressures, and phases of various fluids they could have!

Colour coded flexible pressure hose reminds me of an electrical system - I wonder how a steampunk world would do mechanical calculation? Did someone say Convoluted Fluid Based Computers?? With advances in textiles, hoses, and ropes - surely at some point they'd invent wire or fibre-wrapped pressure vessels! (Just think what they'd do with carbon fibre!) A society with (admittedly probably building-sized) computers that's used to dealing with high-pressure fluids - SURELY they'd invent jet propulsion? Perhaps not for rockets or aircraft - imagine pressure-jet steampunk ships, submarines even.

Actually where I can see modern-ish chemical rocketry in a steampunk world is in miniature steam generators - either HO bipropellant (your choice of liquid or gaseous) or peroxide monopropellant. A vigorous chemical reaction with hot, fast H2O as the product - sounds like a (rather explosive) portable power source.

Anyways, TLDR i'd LOVE to see what technological innovations a steampunk world would have. What paths they'd go down for research.

[tinkertoysdamn]

WiP Wednesday Two for One

Two, count them two WiPs!

1) YSA, IMIWYW in progress

As promised, Carol had called Muneeba ahead of time but they still felt a little silly.  All Carol had managed to do in sending Kamala home was give her time to upload some assignments and have dinner with her family.  

Then again, considering how little time Carol and Peter had spent with their own respective families, maybe they had done her a favor.

“She’s in her room,” Muneeba told them, escorting them into her home, still partially under construction from the unexpected Kree attack.  The hole in the ceiling had a temporary patch of plywood while the drywall repairs on the walls were still unpainted.  “How long do you think you’ll be away this time?”

“Maybe a day, two tops,” Peter said, following her lead.  “It doesn’t take that long to make a planet.”

“Wait, you’re all making a planet?”  That incredulous question came from an older man, obviously Kamala’s father.

“I’m making a planet,” Peter clarified.  “Kamala’s there in case, I don’t know, the Kree renege on the treaty and we have to kick their butts or something.”

For that little comment, Peter got a soft punch in the arm from one Captain Marvel.

“Ow!  What’d you do that for?” Peter asked.

“Saying that kind of thing out loud, you should know better than that.”  So, Carol was the superstitious type?

Peter filed that information away for later.  Maybe Rocket or Mantis might want to join in on a little prank when things calmed down.

2) BABISTH Chapter 2

When the song was over Gamora demanded, “Play it again.”

This time, Quill wouldn’t comply.  The little scowl on his face was rather amusing.  “I’m not playing it for a fourth time.”

She hadn’t realized that was the case.  “Fine.”  There were other forms of entertainment Quill could provide.  “Tell me a story then.”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.  “What kind of story?”

“An Earth story.”  She liked those.

That gave Quill pause.  “You sure you aren’t sick of those by now?”

Gamora’s eyes narrowed.  “If I was, I wouldn’t ask.”

“So bossy,” he murmured, clearly pleased.  “Okay, once there was this lady named Mary Poppins—”  As he piloted their craft through endless space, Quill recounted the tale of a magical woman, a caretaker, and a teacher.  Her lessons of magic and wonder had healed a family, allowing them to learn to reconnect with each other.

It was a lovely tale.

“Was that a history, or a culture story?” Gamora asked.

“Culture story.”  It was pretty clear that Quill wasn’t used to anyone listening to his ramblings.  “Say, why do you like my stories so much?”  

That was a hard question to answer.  Gamora had been all over the universe causing mayhem and destruction.  Though she had technically stood on the soil of dozens, if not a hundred worlds, she knew little about any of them.  She had never bothered to learn anything of the people she helped her father trample.  Gamora had never indulged her curiosity, had never attempted to engage anyone else about their own lives.

Even her siblings she kept at arm’s length, wanting to know nothing of their pasts or their cultures.  

Thanos had no need for music or stories of valor.  She thought that she had been the same way, at least, until she met Peter Quill.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

Packard Patricia pickup

Chris Coleman

Former Test Driver & Mechanic at Automotive Industry (2007–2008

What were the original reasons for Chevrolet coming out with the El Camino?

The El Camino, and other similar vehicles, like the Ford Ranchero, Subaru BRAT, Dodge Rampage and others, were designed to offer car-like comfort, performance and convenience, with the cargo capability of a light truck. Three of the forerunners to this were the Packard Patrician pickup, the Chevrolet Cameo and the Dodge Sweptline pickups.

1957 Dodge Sweptline with tailfins

Chevrolet Cameo Fleetside

The El Camino was based on the full-sized Impala originally, and was enormous. The low ground clearance and hefty weight made it a poor choice as a pickup. Most owners purchased them for styling reasons, especially with the cat eye taillights and horizontal tail fins.

1959 Chevrolet El Camino

Later, Chevrolet downsized the El Camino and based it on the Chevelle/Malibu, where it remained until it was discontinued.

1968 El Camino SS

With nothing in the rear, other than an empty bed, it was difficult to make it competitive as a muscle car, since the weight distribution was heavily biased towards the front.

Also, the bed used curved sheet metal in many places, to accommodate the rounded body panels, and this wasn’t a good fit with common pickup cargo, like plywood, hay bales and crates.

With the passenger compartment realistically holding two people, it was worthless as a family car, while a station wagon version of the Chevelle would be perfect. These things made it an odd fit with a very limited customer base.

Holden Ute, from Australia

Paradoxically, in Australia, cars like these, called Utes (short for utility) were and are extremely popular. Australia has a more rural environment and remote ranches and homes, which make this type of vehicle perfect for them. However in a more suburban setting, like the U.S., the El Camino was always an odd choice.

1972 Ford Ranchero - Based on the Torino

Dodge Rampage

Dodge Rampage, built on the K-car platform

Subaru Baja

Today, no one makes a ute for the American market, but that doesn’t mean these may not resurface from time to time. As kids grow up and nests are emptied, we may once again see a demand for the ubiquitous El Camino, Ford Ranchero and others.