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silentsnowdrop · 2 years

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Rather the Devil You Know

(Warnings: Murder, Blood, Guns, Medical Experimentation, Violence Against Animals and technically Nudity.)

The Vault was a dingy little place on the outside, with off-white boards deliberately grey with grime. The front door was hung slightly off-kilter, and the neon sign outside flickered every few seconds. Nilo didn’t even blink as he swung the door open, letting it creak shut behind him and toeing off his shoes to put them in the shoe holder. The inner door was much sturdier, warm oak and brass, and he nodded to the hat drone that opened it as he stepped through.

The room inside was a strange, yet comfortable, combination of sleek modernity and rustic warmth. Various chairs and couches held teens and young adults playing video games or muttering over homework, but Nilo only had eyes for one head of spiked white hair, tinged faintly green by an internal glow.

“Hey, Kusanagi, you free tonight?”

Nilo gave his fellow villain a bright grin as Kusanagi looked up. Kusanagi, for his part, rolled his glowing green eyes, setting aside his phone and lounging back on the couch he was sitting on. “I suppose I can make myself free. Why?”

“Well, word on the street is that we’ve got ourselves a pair of out-of-town villains holed up in the supposedly about-to-be-demolished old printing plant.” Nilo frowned at his phone, searching through the information he’d been sent for the highlights. “Sounds like a lovely mixture of genetic manipulation and tech. Hyun Ki themselves isn’t available for backup tonight but they’re indicating that if we don’t take care of this soon, we might have to get,” Nilo shuddered dramatically, “actual heroes involved.”

“And we can’t have that.” Kusanagi tilted his head. “I do have to ask though—why me? Genetic manipulation is not my area of expertise, and it’s not as if we’re wanting for ways to shut down tech that even a brain-dead monkey could use.”

Nilo paused. When he spoke again, his voice was cold, even as he tried to keep it light. “Our new friends have an order list for new genetic monstrosities, and at the top are ones derived from Redshift, Quantum Break, and Timeskip.”

Kusanagi’s eyes flashed red. “Oh, so they think it’s a good idea to touch my family?” Nilo blinked, and Kusanagi was on his feet, teeth bared in a poor excuse for a smile. “Well, that won’t do at all; Machina has a reputation to uphold.” Nilo blinked again, and Kusanagi was at the door, dying nanomachines glittering in the air between them as they sank to the floor in a ghost of Kusanagi’s form. “I’ll meet you there at seven. Don’t be late.”

***

The sun was just setting as a hat drone deposited Coldsnap on the empty roof of the old office building across from the paper factory. The dying light painted the facade a warmer red than its dusty, faded brick truly was and reflected off of the few remaining glass shards in the windows in shades of yellow and orange too bright to look at. Coldsnap sighed as he waved the hat goodbye and tugged his helmet on. “Kinda sucks they’re tearing it down,” he muttered to himself. “It’s a cool old building.”

“And what, precisely, do you propose this mysterious ‘they’ do with it?” a soft voice asked in his ear with just the barest hint of mechanical buzz.

The only thing that kept Coldsnap from plummeting off of the roof was Machina’s hand hooked into one of the kevlar-and-plastic panels that made up his actual combat suit. Coldsnap let himself be hauled back, then aimed a swat that the cackling madman he called a friend just let phase through his head. “You are a grade A asshole. Please tell me I didn’t breathe any of you in!”

Machina rolled his eyes, which were still scarlet and now pulsing in time with the circuits that decorated his facsimile of a body suit. “I don’t let people breathe me in.” A sharp grin split his face, and he jerked his head at the plant. “I was shutting down cameras and checking their systems.” He waggled his eyebrows in a way that no human could. “They have a sprinkler system.”

Coldsnap snorted. “Okay, you’re forgiven.” He got to his feet, dusting his suit off, then stepped over to the edge of the building. There was a faint buzz behind him, and a second later, Machina was on the ground, smirking up at him. Coldsnap rolled his eyes, then scrambled down the fire escape after him.

They sauntered up to the building—or, rather, Coldsnap sauntered, while Machina gave up all pretense of human movement and glided beside him. A small swirl of nanomachines split off from one of Machina’s hands and sank into Coldsnap’s helmet, and the blueprints for the building appeared on his HUD in a translucent haze of red. Coldsnap squinted at them, then cut Machina a sideways glance. “So, what’s your plan?”

“For once, I think straightforward is our best choice.” Machina spread his arms, whirling to glide backwards so he could face Coldsnap. “You go in big, get their attention, and I give you backup while I bring down the computers. Simple, effective, and hopefully it will keep us in character.”

“And if it doesn’t, hopefully Silvertongue won’t ream us out too much.” Coldsnap leaned against the wall next to the door. At first glance, it looked like he could break the simple wood with an easy kick, but a closer look revealed metal glinting at the edges of the door, and a well-concealed keypad hidden in some sort of electrical monitor box. It was a decent job at hiding a lair, but not quite up to par for someone trained by Pain Management.

Machina’s hands hovered over the box, streams of nanomachines forming a red haze between his palms and the electronics within. “Frankly, I’m not too worried. Silvertongue knows he can’t control us, and Pain Management will be impressed.” There was a beep and a click, and the door slid open, revealing a well-lit, sterile-white hallway behind it. Machina leaned back slightly, and as Coldsnap watched, his hands began to slowly dissolve. “Ready?”

Coldsnap grinned behind the glass of his helmet and dropped into a sprinter’s crouch. “Set.”

Machina rolled his eyes, then vanished into a cloud of nanomachines that quickly dispersed into every piece of electronics Coldsnap could see. Silence reigned for a moment, broken only by the whispering of a trashbag bouncing on the wind like an urban tumbleweed.

Then the lights in the hallway went from white to red, and a soft waltz began to play over the speakers inside. The sprinklers erupted in a deluge of questionably-clean water, and Machina’s voice purred in his ear, “Go.”

Coldsnap shot forward. Before him, the water froze in an ever-expanding wave, and he tucked himself into an aerodynamic arch and skated forward over it, grinning like the madman he also was. “Swan Lake? Really? You had to go with Swan Lake?”

“It’s one of your favorites, and it’s perfectly unbefitting violence.” Machina’s voice was as even as if they were walking down the street. “Speaking of, they’ve let slip some of their creations. Sixty feet out.”

Coldsnap waved a hand, and some of the falling water coalesced into several marble-sized orbs. “Oh, good. I was worried they wouldn’t have noticed us.”

The first two monstrosities burst out of hidden panels right in front of Coldsnap—huge, vaguely doglike creations covered in bristling spikes that dripped with something oily and green. Coldsnap leapt as they snapped at him, water droplets freezing into tiny prisms as he arced through the air, then landed lightly and spun so he could send two of his orbs through their skulls while they wondered where their prey had gone.

“I’m not actually convinced they have noticed us,” Machina drawled. “I know we’ve technically gone domestic, but I thought we’d rate higher than a few mutated dogs.”

“What about a mutated fire-breathing snake?” Coldsnap ducked as said snake tried to melt his helmet to his face. His ice orbs sublimated into steam with the rest of the falling water around him, then coalesced into inch-long needles that skewered the snake and left it twitching on the ground. “I mean, I am an ice user, so—”

“You took that thing out in five point three seven seconds. No, it does not count. Cat.”

“Cat?”

Something that resembled a cat with tentacles slammed into his visor, clinging to his helmet with its suckers. With a cry of confused disgust, Coldsnap yanked the tentacat off of his head and flung it at the wall. It stuck there with a furious hiss, and Coldsnap prepared for it to spit acid or fling spines.

It started crawling down the wall. As it reached the water ponding on the floor, it put out one tentative tentacle, then hissed again and pulled the tentacle back with a wet slap.

Coldsnap blinked. “Uhhhh...so are you going to attack me or not?”

The tentacat meowed plaintively at him and crawled back up the wall until it was at head height. Two of the cat’s tentacles reached out to him, wiggling slightly, and it blinked at him with wide, frankly adorable eyes.

“I’m going to take that as a no?” Coldsnap stepped forward and gently pulled the tentacat off the wall to set it on his shoulder. It butted against his helmet, and he scratched behind its ears, then smiled a bit as it purred. “I’m keeping the tentacat, Machina.”

There was no response.

Coldsnap frowned uneasily. “Machina?”

There was nothing but the soft waltz and the falling water.

“Damn it. Coldsnap to Machina, do you copy?”

“Copy,” Machina finally responded in a flatly mechanical voice that sent a shiver through Coldsnap’s body. “I need you on the third level. Sending path now; all non-friendly non-recoverable monstrosities neutralized. Supervillains still unlocated.”

Coldsnap slowly started skating again. “What did you find?”

“What they wanted with my family’s DNA.” There was a soft crackle of static, the sound of Machina imitating a steadying breath. “Just...get down here.”

And with that terse order, Machina closed the line.

Coldsnap skated in silence, following the small map that Machina had made to guide him. Occasionally, he passed the bodies of various monstrosities, and after the first ones made the tentacat hiss and spit, he was careful to cover the poor thing’s eyes whenever he saw a new one.

(He couldn’t blame it. The bodies looked perfectly fine. No sign of struggle, no sign of illness. They had just dropped where they stood, leaving eerily still corpses behind like hyperrealistic statues.)

The winding path took him down two flights of stairs and dead-ended at a thick steel door labeled “Lab 1.” A fisheye lens stared down at him from above the door, and as he stared up at it, the door slid open. For a moment, he hesitated. Then he slowly stepped into the dry, red-lit room beyond. “Machina?”

“Over here.”

Coldsnap did not scream. He jumped, and a sound escaped from his throat, but it was not a scream–more of a breathless squeak, almost immediately swallowed up by the silence. His head snapped around to the source of the voice, and he let a little whimper of relief free when he saw Machina floating in front of a bank of monitors. “Don’t do that!”

Machina didn’t so much as blink. The only sign he hadn’t just frozen was the slow pulse of red light that ran through his circuits and the dying nanomachines that fell in a golden stream from his hands and feet. Coldsnap eyed the small mounds of electronic ash below his friend, then tentatively asked, “Are you okay?”

Machina vibrated slightly as his voice emanated from his entire being. “Fine. Go check on the kids.”

“The ki—?”

“They’re behind you. I’m searching for the assholes who hurt them.” Machina flicked a glance at Coldsnap without even twitching his head. “And your cat.”

Coldsnap blinked, then turned to find two plexiglass cells wedged into the other end of the room. One was blacked out, but through its shattered door Coldsnap could see that it was empty save for a cot with a thin blanket rumpled on the floor. Vague streaks of dust were smeared on the floor that were probably dead nanomachines, marring the red reflection from the doorway. Coldsnap traced the dust as it made its way out onto the concrete and into the other cell, then pulled up short.

The floor was covered in the remains of an IV pole and its contents, torn apart by Machina’s nanomachine blades. Another small cot was in the corner of the cell, the remains of medical restraints lying shredded around its feet, along with a discarded hospital gown. And huddled on the cot were two young adults, one unconscious and clad only in underwear and the other staring straight at him with unbridled terror. Coldsnap noted the end of a tube poking out of one nostril, the blood trailing down one arm despite the bandage wrapped around the elbow, the hollow cheeks and the greasy black hair and the dark circles around the wide green eyes, and felt his stomach drop like he’d missed a stair on a staircase.

Then the conscious man’s eyes clenched shut, and an exact copy of him flickered into being in the doorway, teeth bared despite the way he wavered on bare feet. “I don’t know who you are, but you’d better not come in here.”

“Whoa, hey, easy. I’m not here to hurt you.” Coldsnap carefully reached up and raised the visor on his helmet. “I’m Coldsnap. I’m here with my friend Machina back there, and we want to help you and your friend there.” He glanced at the pair again, and realized with a jolt of alarm that he wasn’t sure if the unconscious one was breathing. “What happened to her?”

The double on the bed opened his eyes and looked down at his friend. His eyes were glazed, barely focused, and when his standing double spoke, his voice shook around the disjointed words. “I—the men who—Bell. Their name is Bellami, and I’m Kostas, and the men who kidnapped us put them in that cell and blacked it out, and they’re dying. They need—light, even a flashlight—please—“

Coldsnap held up his hands. “Whoa, slow down.” The double’s mouth clicked shut, and Coldsnap continued in a gentler voice, “Your name is Kostas?” He nodded. “Your friend’s name is Bellami?” He nodded again. “They need light, and the overhead lights aren’t enough?”

Kostas shook his head, and Coldsnap twisted to look at Machina, who stood rigid beside the computers. When there was no response, he turned back, fishing a tactical flashlight from his belt. “Here. It’s like 90,000 lumens, so hopefully it’ll help. We’ll get you both out of here ASAP.”

Kostas fumbled the flashlight, and Coldsnap helped him close his shaking fingers around it. The tentacat on his shoulder gave a plaintive mew and transferred itself to Kostas, and Coldsnap couldn’t help a chuckle. “Looks like my new friend here wants to help you too.”

Kostas swallowed, staring at him. “Th-thank you. I–I think I have it now.”

“You sure?” When Kostas nodded, Coldsnap let go, and Kostas turned and made his slow way to the cot with movements that implied he’d forgotten how knees and ankles worked. When he got to the cot, he just let the flashlight fall into his double’s hand, flickering out of existence as the tentacat dropped to the cot with a wet thud. Kostas stared at the cat as it curled into Bell’s side and started purring, then looked at the flashlight in his hand.

Then he raised it and turned it on.

For a long moment, Bell didn’t react to the new wash of white light over their pale, freckly body. Then they turned their head, golden hair shimmering despite its oily state, and Coldsnap let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding when he saw the shadows of their breasts slowly rise with their breath. Coldsnap gave Kostas a smile as he looked up, then pulled his visor back down. “Hold tight, okay? We’ll get you out of here as soon as we find the guys who put you down here–”

The sound of a gun going off in a closed room was less a sound and more a full body experience, especially when you were the target. There was an explosion of sound, then an explosion of pain between his shoulderblades, and as he staggered forward, it continued, one shot after another.

On the fifth shot, one of the bullets made it past his damaged body armor.

On the sixth, the bullet hit his helmet, sending him pitching to the floor.

The world had gone black before he hit the ground.

***

Coldsnap woke up to pulsating agony in his back. The only reason he wasn’t sobbing was because he could barely breathe, and he was surprised that he couldn’t hear the no-doubt embarrassing whimpering noises that he had to be making. Then he realized his ears were ringing from the gunshots, and probably blood loss and a concussion as well if the way his head was spinning was any indicator. The fact that he was alive at all to hear it was something he could thank his well-armored helmet for, but right now he was kind of wishing it hadn’t worked so well.

Still, he should probably see who had tried to kill him. He laid on the floor until he could draw a deep enough breath to stop the black spots in front of his eyes from multiplying, then tried to decide which arm hurt less. Trying to move his left arm sent a jagged blade of pain up into his skull and turned the world white and glowing, and he could swear he felt the bullet grinding under his shoulderblade. The right arm hurt less, in that the jagged blade became more of a needle and there was no grinding sensation, but it was at least ten seconds before he was fully upright, swaying slightly as he looked around.

As it turned out, the world hadn’t been white and glowing only because of pain. Someone had turned on the full overhead lights, and he’d apparently shattered his visor in the fall, because he was getting the full force of the bright white lights bouncing off of the white walls and floor. He grimaced and clenched his eyes shut against the pain that spiked in his head. This is going to make finding the guy who shot me kind of hard…

The ringing in his ears became louder. He swallowed, pressing a gloved hand to his mouth in a desperate attempt to keep from vomiting. Then the ringing kicked up another notch, and he realized that it wasn’t just ringing.

Someone was screaming. Someone he knew.

He spun around, panic making him ignore the way the world started to blur and waver, and found a scene right out of a nightmare.

In the middle of the room was a red cloud, writhing as it screeched in the mechanical, buzzing tones of a dying speaker. Sparks jumped through it as a steady rain of dying nanomachines piled on the floor–as Machina died by torturous inches as one of the men in front of him did something to him, hands outstretched and a smirk on his face. Coldsnap figured the man was a technopath, but he didn’t have much time to care, not when the red cloud of Machina’s scattered nanomachines was getting fainter and fainter.

The remains of the IV and the puddle of blood on the floor froze into four thick spikes with a resounding crack. Both men jumped, beginning to turn, and Coldsnap flung out his right hand in a desperate arc.

The spikes pierced their knees and stuck there. Coldsnap twisted his hand as the men fell, freezing the flesh and blood around the spikes as they took over the screaming.

He let the men descend into whimpers that he could only barely hear, panting and trying hard not to give into the fuzz at the edges of his vision. The men tried to free themselves from the ice, but Coldsnap just weakly clenched his fist, freezing the blood that was slowly trickling onto the floor. Behind them, the red cloud was slowly forming into Machina, translucent and still with wide, terrified red eyes in an otherwise blank face.

Machina didn’t do terror. He did snark, and condescension, and anger, but he didn’t do terror.

Suddenly, Coldsnap wasn’t panicking anymore. The pain and dizziness faded into the background, subsumed by the icy, thoughtful rage trickling through his veins like snowmelt as he forced himself to his feet.

“You know,” he said conversationally as he tore off his helmet and let it fall to the ground, “We were going to just come down here and talk.” The water still on his suit began to shed into a cloud of diamond dust that followed him as he sauntered forward. “Villain to villain. Give you two a chance to realize that coming here was a mistake, and to clear out.” He left bloody, frozen footprints behind him as he made his slow way to stand in front of the two men. “It’s a courtesy, really, but we’re fond of playing our roles to the hilt. And you know, I wasn’t too happy about the animal experimentation, but we could have worked something out.”

He stared down at the men in front of him, and he could see the crooked slash of a smile spreading across his face reflected in the man’s eyes. “But there are some things I really can’t forgive. Experimenting on unwilling innocents, for one. Hurting my friends, for another.” He reached down and put two fingers under the chin of the man who had been tormenting Machina, ignoring the agony running down his spine. “Do you know what I do to people who hurt my friends?”

The man’s eyes widened. “Y-you–you c-can’t–you’re r-reformed–”

“Now whatever gave you that idea?” Coldsnap’s smile grew wider. “My name change? My new job?” When the man tried to nod, Coldsnap laughed and patted his cheek. “I’ve gone straight, true. I like having people scream because they like me and want to see more. But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what I learned as Frostbite–it just means I like to use it to help people. And sometimes that means getting rid of things like you.”

He ran a gentle thumb over the man’s cheekbone. “I could make it quick. My favorite way to assassinate someone was to freeze the blood in their brain, you know–you’d drop in a second, and not know what happened. But you two nearly killed those kids, you were torturing Machina here, and your friend,” he paused, eyes flicking to the revolver at the other man’s hip, “tried to kill me. Thankfully my boyfriend and datemate make very good armor, but I’m still bleeding, and that’s put me in a bad mood.”

Coldsnap let the man go and stepped back. “He’s all yours, Machina.”

Machina tilted his head, too slowly and smoothly to be anything close to flesh and blood. Then his form condensed and sharpened, quite literally.

The nanomachine blade shot forward, and Coldsnap turned his head slightly to avoid the blood spatter getting in his eyes.

When he turned back, there was something that could have been a human being if you squinted past the blood and played jigsaw in your head. Coldsnap looked at Machina, who had seemingly given up on maintaining any cohesive form and was flowing back to the computer bank in a sluggish stream, then at the remaining man, who was staring up at him, shock-white and trembling. Coldsnap gave him a smile dragged up from the center of a glacier, then looked up. “Hey, Kostas—“

He cut himself off so fast his teeth sank into his cheek. Kostas was staring at the remains of the man that Machina had killed, trembling and clinging to one of Bell’s hands. As Coldsnap watched, Bell shifted slightly and opened hazy golden eyes. They looked around, lips moving in something Coldsnap couldn’t make out, and Kostas placed a shaking hand over their eyes.

Don’t look, Bell, Coldsnap read from his lips. Kostas looked up and flinched from Coldsnap’s gaze. Please, Bell, just don’t look.

Sludgy self-disgust mixed with the icy rage in Coldsnap’s veins, and he turned back to the man in front of him with bile burning in the back of his throat. “...I’ll let Pain Management deal with you.” He reached out and clenched his right hand to freeze the blood still flowing sluggishly from the man’s knees, ignoring the grating whine of pain that escaped from between the man’s clenched teeth. “Who knows? They might even let you live. Easier to keep scum out when they know what might happen to them otherwise.”

With that, Coldsnap spun on his heel, taking slow breaths that did nothing to combat the urge to cry that was building behind his eyes as he walked over to the computers. “Machina, could you let Pain Management know where we are?” A tear worked its way free, and he scrubbed it away before it could freeze to his skin. “I think we need some damage control here.”

***

The strobing red lights of the ambulances cast dizzying shadows across the parking lot. Nilo leaned against the brick wall of the paper plant, watching the paramedics finish preparing Kostas and Bell for travel. For someone who had apparently been subsisting off of low-quality nasogastric feeding for a couple of weeks, Kostas was stubborn almost to the point of combativeness. Nilo could see a flickering, unsteady double trying to get into the ambulance that Bell was being loaded into, and when Eugen started to approach, Kostas gave him a look bordering on terrified.

“You should be in the car,” Kusanagi said from behind him. Nilo stubbornly stared at the ambulances, and Kusanagi sighed, gliding forward to stand beside him and watch too.

Nilo glanced at him, and let out a quick breath when he saw that Kusanagi was solid once again. “Ties bring you a new set of nanomachines?”

“Yes. Also, you’re deflecting.” Kusanagi raised an eyebrow. “You have a healing factor, sure. You still need to go to, if not the hospital, at least to a doctor.”

Nilo smiled slightly. “Thanks for getting the bullet out before I healed, by the way.” The smile fell, and he went back to watching the ambulance. “I’ll get in soon. I just…”

“You’re self flagellating.”

Nilo watched as Kostas hesitantly nodded to Eugen. Eugen crouched beside him and began to murmur in his ear, and the flickering double vanished as Kostas began to relax. “...That’s my fault. He doesn’t trust us because of me.”

“If I recall, I was the one who disincorporated that technopath.” Nilo saw Kusanagi shrug out of the corner out of his eye. “I will say that it was unfortunate that the kid saw, but if it was anyone’s fault, it was mine.”

“Was it?” Nilo clenched his hands into fists to hide his trembling fingers. “You saw the way they looked at us, Kusanagi. They weren’t just scared of you.”

Kusanagi gave him a narrow-eyed look. “Nilo, you’ve botched performances and scared people before. You’ve also killed to protect people before, and scared people that way. What’s different about this time?”

Nilo stared out at the parking lot. “...The last time an innocent person looked at me like that, I was still under Father’s thumb.” He gave a bitter twist of a smile. “I was still Frostbite.”

He still remembered what it felt like to kill that woman. Her face still featured in his nightmares, slowly icing over as she stared at him in terror.

To this day, he still didn’t know what she’d done to upset Father.

Kusanagi gave a frustrated sigh and stepped in front of Nilo to block his view. “Look. I’m probably not the best person for you to talk about this with, considering my congenital lack of empathy. But do you remember what you told me when I asked you why you weren’t going to play hero in the kayfabe?”

“...because villains aren’t scared of heroes,” Nilo said quietly. “Not the ones that need to be scared. But they’re scared of other villains.”

Kusanagi nodded. “And you wanted to be the villain they were scared of. But you know as well as I do that if you’re going to do that, you have to follow through.” He gestured over his shoulder at the ambulances. “And this is what happens when you do—people are alive at the end of it, even if they’re a little bit traumatized. I’d call that a win.”

Nilo stared at the ambulances for another moment. Then he sighed and let his shoulders slump. “I guess. I just…”

“Took all the empathy so I didn’t have to.” Kusanagi slung an arm over his shoulders, forcibly turning him toward the car. “Look. You’ve done everything anyone is going to let you do for them tonight. Maybe tomorrow you can apologize, but for now, let’s get you back to the car before Ties either steals your cat-octopus hybrid or leaves it with a small child.”

Nilo scowled. “That is my cat! He’s not allowed to do either of those things! Come on, so I don’t have to freeze your brother solid.”

He stalked off towards the car. Behind him, the sirens wailed to life, and he glanced over his shoulder at the sound to see cars pulling out of the way.

He glanced at the ambulances. For a moment, he thought he saw Kostas’ double flickering in the back window, mouthing Thank you through the tinted glass.

Then the ambulances turned the corner and were gone.

#Havenwood #HFY #Humanity Fuck Yeah #Superheroes #Long Post

13 notes · View notes

fieldbears · 3 years

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It seems like you know a lot about skin care. I'm 28 now and honestly dont really bother with it (except to take off make up and using sunscreen). I'm 28 now and feel like my skin's fine but wonder if there's stuff it actually needs. With skincare being such a huge industry it's hard to understand what ingredients skin actually needs bc I feel companies (& influencers) try to sell you a lot of shit you don't need and maybe even makes your skin worse. Any tips where to start? Thank u

Hey friend! I love helping newbies. I absolutely do have tips. And a two-product two-step regimen. You can get it for under $40 and it should last you 6 months or more.

First off, there is ABSOLUTELY a ton of shit you don’t need. That is a good instinct. You can always pay more for a product and you can always add more steps to your routine, but that doesn’t mean that you’re actually getting more out of it. The first thing you should ask yourself is, what do you want out of your skincare?

SUNSCREEN: For someone who isn’t sure what they want or what they should do, my first question is how much time you spend in the sun. The one thing you can do to really permanently damage your skin is to spend a lot of time in the sun without any sunscreen. Basically: blah blah rays of sun blah blah destroys the collagen, aka squishy bouncy bonds between cells, blah blah, destroyed collagen means the skin sags more, meaning wrinkles.

(It is also, I hope I don’t need to say, dangerous for Cancer Reasons to get a ton of non-screened sun exposure. But I’m assuming that’s a given here.)

Like I said in the last post, southeast Asian sunscreen options are a huge improvement on what you find on the shelves here in the States because they have more stringent laws on what chemicals are okay to put in a product. But if you stick with what you can grab at CVS, that’s fine too - just make sure you google the brand and type and make sure the SPF is for real. (Some products marketed at, say, SPF 45 are actually proven to only be SPF 15. It’s like the olive oil bullshit all over again!)

There are also a lot of moisturizers available with SPF protection in them.

WHICH LEADS ME TO MY AMAZING TWO-STEP SYSTEMMMMM...

CLEANSE AND MOISTURIZE: There are seven-step processes out there, but what you really need to start with, and will get a ton out of if you aren’t doing anything right now, is cleansing and moisturizing.

The science explanation for doing this: blah blah your skin generates oils from your pores in order to create a protective barrier between your flesh and the elements, but said oils can get gunky once they’ve accumulated all the particulates from the air, and there can even be backups and miscommunications and over-oilage if you have dead skin cells sitting on top of your new skin, or stuff gets all the way into your pores, blocking the system, causing breakouts. So skincare is about removing everything on top of your skin, maybe adding fancy stuff in the middle, but absolutely creating a new barrier for your skin at the end, to replace the one you took off. I liken it to varnish on a painting - it’s meant to sit on top, collect all the dust, and get removed and replaced over time. But don’t just wash your face every 20-80 years. The metaphor only goes so far. Anyway.

Here is how to get into my absolutely bare minimum regimen:

PICK A CLEANSER: If you wear/remove makeup a lot, and/or have a very oily complexion, pick an oil-based cleanser. Oil-based means it’s good at removing makeuppy things and your natural oil. Otherwise, pick a water-based cleanser. CeraVe cleansers are available at Walgreens and they are affordable. It is available, affordable, clinically gentle on various skin types, and by god, it does indeed wash all the shit off your face.I have tried a lot of expensive water-based cleansers and I still come back to this one. That $16 pump bottle will last you a long time, too.

PICK A MOISTURIZER: I’m back on my CeraVe shit here because if you’re overwhelmed and don’t know what to pick, I’m gonna push you to the easy-to-pay-for, easy-to-find product that won’t make you break out. And it’s got SPF! If you want to get fancier, check out some options here. I currently use Laneige moisturizers, which are at Sephora and... other places. Idk. (And to repeat my last post: if you can’t stand having things sitting on your skin, even a moisturizer that will absorb over a minute or so, Laneige Cream Skin Toner & Moisturizer essentially feels like water.)

SHOWER STEP: You have both your products. Now. Put your cleanser in your shower. When you shower, use it to wash your face. In the shower, you can splash and splash to your heart’s content. Get your neck, your cleavage, any extra places you feel have an oiliness problem. But remember them for later, because you want to moisturize all spots you cleansed. (Also, if you’ve been using soap or anything else to wash your face up until now... stop that. Cleanser is much better.)

AFTER SHOWER STEP: Dry off and pat on that moisturizer. Make sure you apply it with clean hands. Rub it in gently and make sure all cleansed areas are now moisturized.

That’s it.

No, really, that’s my advice for beginners. Two products, one done in the shower. You have to do them in order. That’s it.

If you have the spoons to do this routine twice a day, around when you get up and right before bed, you’ll get even better results. But if you’re just starting out and get anxious about new routines, don’t sweat it. Your face’s cells turn over every 30 days or so, so if you keep this up every day for about two weeks, you’ll start seeing improvements by then.

Bonus newb tips:

About once a week, use a COMPLETELY CLEAN terrycloth washcloth to apply your cleanser. Get your (gentle) scrub on. Mechanical exfoliation basically means you’re using a brush, a cloth, something physical to remove everything from your face, including things like dead skin, which gentle cleansing may not have gotten. Doing it too often isn’t helpful, as you can only build up so much stuff to remove over time, and scrubbing too hard or too frequently can lead to frightening your skin, causing redness. So once a week is likely plenty. If you like the battery-operated brushes, go for it, but they cost way more than the clean washcloth.

You will see options for chemical exfoliation too. If you identify as a newb, I don’t recommend this. Chemical exfoliations aren’t bad per se, but are one of the few skincare things that can be done wrong, and in a way that can really upset your skin. Washcloth!

Are you replacing your pillowcases on a regular basis? I try to do once a week but I probably end up with closer to two weeks. Nobody’s perfect. But remembering to do this is a very easy way to help your skin out.

If you get your cleanse-and-moisturize routine down pat, 2x a day, and you want the next step, look into toners. They help your skin absorb the moisturizer more efficiently... science reasons. The toner goes on before the moisturizer, but again, your skin should be dry before you start.

There are ampoules, essences, treatments, and other fancy names for... very specific shit. Basically, if you have a specific problem, especially in a specific area of your face, chances are there is a specific tiny expensive bottle you can integrate into the middle of your routine to help with that. But there is a lot of snake oil out there and I don’t want anybody buying these solutions if they aren’t already managing the daily wash-and-protect, because you’d be surprised how many things that can fix.

If you have problems with breakouts or other bad reactions to some skin products, do your best to only introduce one new product at a time. That way if you start having a reaction, you don’t have to guess what caused it.

No matter what is or isn’t going on with your skin, your worth is not affected one iota. Whether I have three pimples and incredible redness around my cheekbone and nose area, making me look like a character mug of a drunken sailor, or whether or my skin is the cool, poreless ivory of Grecian marble, I am still the exact same perfect bitch. And so are you.

#Anonymous #skincare

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rhysismydaddy · 3 years

Note

Hey love, I adore ur nessian fics and was wondering if you could bless us with some Cassian being super hurt/sick and nesta taking care of him(fluff + hurt/comfort yknow)?Ooh and nesta giving him a pep talk when he says he feels worthless-bat boi needs some comfort -(nesta bathing cassian scene for bonus points). Thank you so much! hope ur staying safe and healthy!

thank you <3 hope you’re doing well, too

___________________________________________

Nesta leaned a hip against the doorframe of her bedroom, frowning when she found it empty. “Cass?”

No answer.

She still searched the place anyway, since he was bad to play music in his headphones too loud and never hear her. She went to the bathroom, kitchen, living room, and even out the back door of her tiny place, but to no avail.

He wasn’t here.

Which was odd, considering he wasn’t allowed to drive, and he’d been here when she left for work.

She grabbed her phone and called him, but no answer.

Annoyance bloomed as she threw her shoes back on and snatched her keys, then drove the five minutes to his place. By the time she got there, the annoyance had blossomed into full-on irritation, so she didn’t bother knocking, just used the key he’d given her a year ago and marched in.

When she found him in his bedroom, she paused, and all that pent-up anger whooshed right out of her.

Beneath the mass of purple bruises decorating him, he was white as a sheet as he struggled to get his sock off. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, grimacing in pain, but didn’t stop until his hand grabbed his foot.

Nesta rushed over, kneeling in front of him. “Cass, you’re going to pop a stitch. What are you doing? Why’d you leave my place?”

He didn’t say anything, just pushed her hands away when she tried to help.

“Cassian-”

“I’m fine, Nesta,” he snapped, grunting as he ripped the sock off and started on his pants.

“Clearly,” she shot back, standing and crossing her arms.

She’d been taking care of him for almost two weeks, and this was the thanks she got?

He got the sweats off easier, and her heart pinched as the cast over his broken knee was exposed. With brutal efficiency, he wrapped it in the extra-long trash bags they’d bought at the store, then reached for the duct tape.

Noticing it was a little too far away, she grabbed it and handed it to him.

Golden eyes surrounded by black shot to hers, and she took a step back at how angry they were. “Jesus Christ, Nesta, I’m not an invalid. Stop mothering me.”

Taking a shaky breath, she nodded and stepped out of his way as he used his uninjured leg to stand up. She knew it was self-hatred and the anger of being injured, not that he was actually pissed at her, but it still hurt.

She’d known his recovery would be difficult, that it would test their relationship, but it was still a shock to her system to be on the receiving end of his rage.

It was horrible to watch as he used the wall to hobble to the connected bathroom, but she maintained her distance and kept quiet.

But no matter how mad he’d be because of it, she couldn’t stop herself from rushing to him when he started to fall.

Nesta reached him just in time, catching him around the waist and bracing him as he started to tip forwards. But he was over two-hundred pounds of solid muscle, and though she slowed him down, she couldn’t stop him entirely.

Her back slammed into the wall next to the tub, the air getting knocked from her lungs in a harsh breath.

“Goddammit,” he growled, pushing off the wall with one hand and all but throwing himself into the bathtub, somehow managing to keep his wrapped up leg from getting wet. Water sloshed over the sides, but he didn’t seem to care.

Bracing an elbow on the edge, he put his head in his hand and avoided looking at her for a long time.

She could feel the rage inside him building, feel him turn it on himself.

“I’m sorry, Nes,” he murmured a few minutes later, still not looking at her. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him, coming over to sit on the space behind his head. She ran her hands through his hair, pulling his head back until his eyes met hers. “I know you hate being injured, but you have to stop being so hard on yourself Let me take care of you.”

“I don’t like you seeing me like this.”

She scoffed. “How many times have you taken care of me?”

Cassian shook her head. “That’s different.”

“No, it isn’t. And it isn’t why you’re so upset.”

She knew there was something else causing him to lash out. He’d been injured before, but he’d never acted like it was anything besides a mild annoyance.

His gaze shuttered, but there was such pain, such emptiness in his eyes. She couldn’t take it.

“Cassian, please talk to me,” she pleaded. “Don’t... don’t shut me out.”

It had taken her forever to open up to him, and she couldn’t stand the feeling that they were moving backwards.

His head dipped forward, and she released his hair with a sigh, letting him go.

She was about to leave, give him some alone time, when he said, “I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

Her heart started to pound, and his gaze shot to hers like he could hear it. “Work, baby. Not you.”

Nesta nodded but stayed quiet, giving him time to figure out what he wanted to say.

“I don’t know if I can go on another tour, watch men die all around me, get shot and almost die for a cause I don’t believe in.” He looked down. “But I can do it, and I feel like I’d be letting my men down to stop.”

He was in the Marines, and his platoon had hit an IED and been ambushed in enemy territory with no backup. Cassian had fought his ass off to get every member of his unit out alive.

His knee had been broken in the explosion, but he’d gone back for his injured partners, not even stopping when he got shot in the shoulder.

He’d saved six people.

He’d always been driven by duty, by honor, but hated that it was now causing such turmoil inside him.

“Oh, Cass,” she murmured, stroking his curly hair away from his face softly.

“But even if I do quit, I... I don’t know who I am without this, Nes. I’ve been a Marine my whole life; it’s all I am.”

She scowled down at him at that. “Cassian Azara, if you think that’s all you are, you’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever met.”

His mouth opened to answer, but she shouldered on. “You are the most selfless, generous, kind, hilarious, handsome, and intelligent man I’ve ever met. All of those things make you a great Marine, but you’re more than some random military title. And if you don’t want to be a Marine anymore, then quit.”

“But-”

“But nothing. You’ve saved those guys’ asses more times than I can count, and while no one will ever be as good of a leader, someone will step up. You’ve done six tours; no one would blame you for choosing yourself. Do what you want, not what you think you need to.”

“It’s all I know how to do,” he murmurs, looking away from her, but not before she caught the shame in his eyes.

“No, it’s all you’ve done.”

“What do you mean?”

She put a palm on his cheek, and he leaned into the touch. “You enlisted when you were eighteen. You’ve never done anything besides be in the military. But that doesn’t mean it’s all you could do. You could do a million things”

Some of that darkness left his eyes as he looked up at her. “Like what?”

Nesta shook her head incredulously. “Just with your training alone, you could be a personal trainer, teach self-defense classes, or fight professionally. You graduated at the top of your class; you could go to college and study anything you want. You could be a mechanic like you were in high school. You could fly a rocket to the fucking moon.”

Cassian’s lips twitched. “I don’t know about that one.”

“I do. NASA would be lucky to have you.” He didn’t look quite convinced about the point she was making, so she said, “Baby, with your personality and that face, you could sell car insurance to the Amish.”

He laughed in surprise, and the sound soothed the ache in her chest.

She pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “And with how fucking stubborn you are, you’ll be the best at whatever you choose. You can do anything you want. Now say it.”

He looked down at his broken knee and muttered, “I can do anything I want.”

Nesta pursed her lips. “Now say it like you mean it.”

His eyes rolled back up to hers in amusement, even as he said confidently, “I can do anything I want.”

She smiled and leaned down to kiss him. “Yes, you can. And whenever you need reminding of it, just tell me.”

“I love you,” he said against her lips, making her smile. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Yes, I am,” she agreed, still grinning. “Now shut up and hand me the shampoo. You smell worse than you look.”

He threw his head back and howled with laughter, then splashed her and handed her the shampoo. She worked some of it into his hair, the froth slick beneath her hands, and moved his head to lie against the edge of the tub.

Nesta kissed his brow, knowing that whatever they went through, they’d do it together. “I love you, too, Cassian.”

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depizan · 3 years

Text

I was thinking about the post I reblogged about the loss of the Alliance in SWTOR, and some of my other disappointments with how faction is handled in the game, and how faction based MMOs in general tend to get stuck in this kind of "eternal conflict" mode. (Not that factionless MMOs don't get stuck in their own kind of weird "eternal conflict" mode, too. Look at Guild Wars 2 and the growing list of things that have tried to destroy Tyria.)

But there are stories that lend themselves to a faction model, and SWTOR does have - or does begin with - one of those. It's just that with no prospect of whatever conflict divides the factions ever being resolved, you have a weird permanent stalemate situation, kind of. The Sith Empire will never win, because that would make Republic players unhappy. The Galactic Republic will never win, because that would make Empire players unhappy. No actual solution to the conflict can ever be found because then it would be game over. (Also, no real faction shifting because how would you code that?)

Except... maybe none of that is true. There are games that have faction shifting of a kind coded in. Think of all the minor factions in World of Warcraft, some opposed to one another, some just independent. Sure, those faction shifts are mostly achieved with some kind of grind, but it does prove that mutable factions are codeable.

This might even solve the problem of the Smuggler and the Bounty Hunter being tied to specific factions when that leads to some very odd story stuff, particularly outside of each class story. It suggests a way to handle factional grouping and third faction classes without making those factions "better" because all flashpoints are available to them.

Here is Mac's theoretical redesign of SWTOR with a different handling of factions and playing into the story focus that is the game's best quality.

Republic and Empire each get three classes, Smuggler and Bounty Hunter are Underworld (a third, neutral to the others faction). Since the galaxy is supposed to be under a peace treaty - the Treaty of Coruscant - you design the game with flexible faction tagging and lean in hard to the Cold War set up.

You have degrees of faction, just like those minor factions in WoW. I'm going to borrow the middle part of WoW's faction set up for this. Theirs runs Hated - Hostile - Unfriendly - Neutral - Friendly - Honored - Revered - Exalted. We just need the middle chunk, from Hostile to Friendly. Hostile is typical enemy mob: bar is red, it will attack you on sight. Unfriendly is an orange bar, but will not fight you unless you attack. Neutral is a yellow bar, again, will not fight you unless you attack. Friendly is typical allied mob: bar is green, etc.

Imperial players can go to Coruscant, and Republic players to Dromund Kaas, but everything is Unfriendly to them, they can't buy anything (except maybe at the spaceport?), and there are no quests available to them. Underworld players start out one tick up at Neutral and have a few merchants and quests available. Ones that it makes sense would be available to random people. (This is to balance out Underworld space starting at Neutral to Pubs and Imps.) And, obviously, Pub space starts out Friendly to Pubs and Imps space Friendly to Imps. (Though I would be slightly tempted to have Korriban be neutral to the Agent class because, as a non-Force-Sensitive you don't really belong there.)

(As you can see, we're basically using a game mechanic to underline the state of galaxy. We can also set things so that people can't go fuck things up for their fellow players by coding it so that if you just go attack people on the opposite faction capitol, you get blipped to hostile and squashed like a bug.)

Now, we write the game like there is actually a Cold War happening. This means missions for Imps and Pubs that send people into "enemy" space (not, to start with the capital or Force User planets, though) where they have to accomplish their missions without attracting the attention of the other faction. We can take advantage of instancing to allow for diplomatic incidents, like thinking "well, they can't report I'm here if they're dead," without triggering the anti-trolling splat mobs. This is also where we introduce some side quests that give people the opportunity to work on becoming to Neutral with the opposite faction.

Smugglers and Bounty Hunters are off doing Underworld stuff, with some options to take quests that benefit the Republic or the Empire. (Giving them the chance to work on becoming Friendly with one or both factions.)

All class stories get written so that there are several potential outcomes. We're going to use the Agent story as a model here, and basically set it up so that everyone has a story line that ends with them still loyal to the faction they began with, now Underworld/Unallied, or loyal to the opposite faction. This gets paired with the ability for characters to keep doing things to make the other faction like them better and you're setting up defections or the decision to go neutral with mechanics and story.

You use the Cold War setting to ramp up general tension. Have more missions like that one on Republic Hoth where you can work with some Imperials. Or the times where a Sith Warrior can use Republic soldiers to their advantage. So the whole base game has this good overlay of people wanting peace and people wanting to go back to war (on all sides!). This lets you really flesh out the factions, and the good and bad people in them. Have a more positive sort of Gray Morality going on.

As far as Flashpoints go, you re-write The Black Talon/Esseles for proper Cold War subtlety. I think we want to use the intro flashpoints to give people a better idea of the kind of proxy conflict stuff, where you might be fighting what appear to be a third party (like pirates), but you get info (of the non provable kind) that they're working for the Empire/Republic. And maybe come up with some kind of mechanic where party members can get special communications based on faction. Like, the main (everybody) cut scenes for the Esseles talk about it being pirates that are attacking them, but the Jedi/Trooper characters get a quick comm call that the pirates are probably working for the Empire and after a particular person.

For all the shared flashpoints, you tweak them so they are truly shared. One queue for everyone, we still need to work out exactly how we're getting the different factions their special flavor bits, but there's more of that here. And maybe a kind of saboteur mechanic for things like what to do with the missiles on Cademimu, so that they can still be launched at a fleet for a DS option, but it's not in-character obvious that someone did it.

We can still have some Empire and Republic specific flashpoints, which we might allow Underworld characters who are Friendly with the right faction to do. (Or maybe not if we're keeping the ones we have. They've got a bit of a secret mission vibe. Maybe we add a fun treasure hunt flashpoint for the Underworld folks.)

The end of the base game becomes the Cold War going hot because of Revan (and let's say it's not the Republic at large backing him, but a smaller group within the Republic that's okay with his plan). Now we get proper fall out from someone wanting to commit mass murder, we get a good climax, and we can shift from writing eight class stories to three-ish main stories with class and faction related flavor bits. You'd have those fighting for the Republic (ex-Empire characters could get good flavor bits about fighting their old allies and some suspicion from their new ones - a suspicion ex-Underworld characters would also get), for the Empire (again, joined members get some good flavor bits), or who are with the Underworld now.

First expansion is the war, maybe with some of what we used to have in Chapter Three going on. I'm also kind of tempted to weave in some actual foreshadowing for Zakuul here. I'm not keen on Space Voldemort or the time skip, but other parts of those expansions seem worth trying to save. But maybe we have the player characters working with Lana and Theron like in the Revan expansion, but it's about hints that there's something bad coming instead.

Next expansion, Zakuul attacks, things go super to shit, Lana, Theron, some people from Zakuul and the player character(s) form the Alliance. Oooh, wait, lets go ahead and keep the Vitiate/Valkorian thing, and have killing the Emperor be the end of the first expansion (because he wants to eat the galaxy - he's gone mad, but the Empire as a whole won't acknowlege it and are following him off a cliff, the Republic isn't seeing him and the Empire as separate, even evil characters live in the galaxy, etc). Now, Zakuul invades because when you kill Vitiate, Valkorian keels over. Whoops.

(Zakuul is the backup plan. If he can't destroy the galaxy as Vitiate, here comes the uber-Empire! You just managed to off him, but the uber-Empire gets fired at the known galaxy anyway.)

Now we have one story going, with different flavors depending on the characters relation to the three old factions. Kind of like we do in the existing game. And we avoid bumping the player character up to a ridiculous level of authority by making them part of the leadership of the Alliance instead of the leader. Keep them more in line with the base game power level.

Not quite sure where we go from here, but basically you have this kind of flowing faction thing going through the game that meshes well with the story.

I don't know. Mostly I wanted to work out how you could do something more interesting with faction.

#Mac vs SWTOR #Mac rewrites the game #long post #very long post #god if they'd done it like this I might even like the expansions

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libermachinae · 3 years

Text

Fault Lines Under the Living Room

Part III: Watch - Chapter 9: Smog Layer Rolling In

Available on AO3 Chapter Summary: The trio compare notes. Chapter Word Count: 3578

---

Beyond the city, Vitrious was a patchwork of barren plateaus with deep crags of lush valleys between, dense vegetation knotting together until only those adapted for such environments would have any hope of navigating them. Drift set his shuttle down on the flat plain, well within sight of the parked Decepticon craft, and took a moment to vent before he rose from the pilot’s seat and made for the hatch. He checked the cell was secure, catching Grit’s optic as he passed; there was a glare, but no sharp remarks as Drift turned his back on them.

The soil was a hard-packed conglomeration of quartz, granite, and limestone that sparkled even under Vitrious’s perpetually overcast weather, but Drift’s gaze was up as he approached the too-familiar vessel. The hatch was open and Rodimus was sitting on the ramp, Ratchet standing at his left shoulder. They waved but put up their hands, stop, when he started coming closer.

“Sorry,” Rodimus said over comms.

“We don’t know how far the effects extend,” Ratchet explained.

Drift stopped where he was, stance wide and swords glinting.

“Do you really have the Enigma?” he asked.

“It’s not the kind of thing we could make up,” Ratchet said.

“Where did you find it?”

“Another Autobot left it on the Lost Light,” Rodimus said. “Arcee. Don’t know where she got it from, but she hid it on this shuttle and took off. We tried to follow her, but some things—I got us hit with a satellite.”

“A satellite,” Drift repeated.

Rodimus nodded.

Drift raised his two fists and bounced them together.

“Hit you.”

“We’re not going to get very far if that’s where your suspension of disbelief ends,” Ratchet said. “And anyway, we both played a part getting into that mess. I wasn’t the most communicative pilot.”

Rodimus shifted, looking down at his pedes, then grinned. Without making optic contact, Ratchet matched it.

“A lot of things were said, but that’s beside the point.” Rodimus waved his hand. “We lost control of the shuttle and by the time we got it back, Arcee was gone.”

“Why would she do that?” Drift asked. An object that dangerous needed to stay far away from Cybertronian hands, especially anyone aligned with the civil war factions. To abandon it like that was either negligence or malicious, and he found himself glancing at the sky, wondering whether someone else was on their way to retrieve it.

“Didn’t tell us,” Ratchet said. “Didn’t even tell us it was here. Had to find it ourselves.”

“Both of you?”

Ratchet and Rodimus glanced at each other.

“Who else?” Drift pressed.

“What?” Rodimus asked, both their gazes snapping back to him.

“Who else was with you? You can’t form a combiner with just two people.”

“That’s where it gets complicated,” Ratchet said. Unlike Rodimus, who had taken to glancing at the ground again, spoiler twitching to give the illusion his whole frame was in motion, Ratchet’s optics and posture were steady.

“It was just us,” Rodimus said. “I didn’t know what to do. Ratchet had just said he was—“ He froze, looked up at Ratchet, then went on. “He was leaving, and the glowy thing in the wall seemed like a good distraction from that.”

“We were both under immense stress,” Ratchet said, laying a hand on Rodimus’ spoiler. The twitching stopped. “Maybe the Enigma picked up on that. It decided we were a good enough match that it could link us together while it looked for someone else.”

“A holding pattern,” Drift said. The word came up automatically; in reality, his attention was being yanked between Rodimus’ slight smile, Ratchet’s hand, and the fact that the latter had apparently been in the process of deserting. That didn’t sound like the Ratchet he knew.

“Yeah, exactly, that’s what Cyclonus called it,” Rodimus said, oblivious to his internal struggle.

“You’ve heard of it?” Ratchet asked.

“Only briefly, and my sources weren’t that trustworthy.”

“Tell us what they said anyway,” Ratchet said, his hand moving into soothing strokes along Rodimus’ spoiler. Drift found himself looking at the ground. “We still know next to nothing about this thing, beyond that it’s a pain in the aft and poor judge of character.”

Drift shook out his hand and unsheathed his sword, twirling it in front of him in basic patterns. Better to be frank with his restlessness than let it distract him from the matter at hand.

“It’s rare, and terrible,” he said. “Bonded sparks without a physical connection to stabilize them try to overpower each other.” He thrust his sword forward, grimacing at the blunt movement. “The case studies all described once-friends trying to rip each other apart, just for a few minutes’ peace.” There must have been instances of final components being introduced, but he hadn’t bothered to log them to his memory. He’d been looking for horror stories to break up the boredom. Shockwave’s archives had been an indulgence.

“Hasn’t been easy,” Ratchet said, “but it was never that bad.” Even from this far away, his gaze was like a physical touch on Drift’s plating. He tried to ignore it as he moved into his next step in the pattern.

“We did organize an entire shuttle to keep me from frying Ratchet’s circuits,” Rodimus said. “Oh, and meditated!” His spoiler flicked, briefly dislodging Ratchet’s hand before he put it back. Their disturbed looks switched to matching grins again, and Drift now recognized it for what it was: a private joke.

Drift paused to regard them, their easy postures combined with the gentle way they moved around each other. Nothing like what he had filled his head with all those years ago.

“Why did you come?” he asked, sheathing his sword. “You said you need my help.”

Rodimus stood up, creating a gap between them.

“Like Ratchet said, it hasn’t been as bad as what you heard,” he said, “but we can’t live like this forever. Ratchet’s—”

He stopped, optics flashing, and Ratchet closed the distance again, pressing a hand to the back of his neck.

“It’s been a challenge,” Ratchet said. “We can function, but neither of us can fulfill our responsibilities while we’re like this, especially if we’re at risk of pulling someone into it. We need some way to minimize the effects or, ideally, cut it off. Unfortunately, that falls outside my area of expertise.” He dropped his hand.

“But we were thinking: weird spark stuff, bonds between people. That’s kind of what you’re all about, right?” Rodimus stood, the corner of his lips quirked up in a hopeful grin.

Drift stared at it. His hand was frozen, still wrapped around the hilt of his sword.

“Cyclonus suggested Spectralist meditation practices might influences the effects of the Enigma,” Ratchet said with a resigned acceptance that, in another situation, Drift might have prodded at. Ratchet was handing him a free turn in their old game, only it wasn’t a game anymore and Drift found himself with a miserable hand.

“And you want me to��”

They looked at each other, more than a glance this time.

“Well, was he right?” Rodimus asked. “Is there anything you can do?”

Unlike most answers in Drift’s life, this one came with little inner turmoil.

“No. There isn’t.”

Spectralism was a war religion. A subset of Alchemists had felt their belief system had become too tied up in the politics of the war, especially after the Acuity had announced a passive alliance with the Autobots. The Alchemic apostates believed that, by focusing on the body, one could transcend the factional gulfs that divided their species, and named their new movement Spectralism, in reference to the standard spectrum of light emitted by their photonic cores. It was a modern religion designed around the issues of its time. Not ancient long-lost artifacts of questionable ethics.

Rodimus’ spoiler drooped and Ratchet’s optics dimmed. Rodimus straightened up a moment later, brave smile on, but the way Ratchet sunk into his own plating told Drift far more about their shared headspace.

“That’s okay!” Rodimus said. “We can figure something else out. Or not! Ratchet’s been warming up to me. Bet we could make it a few years at least before we—”

His words choked off and Drift had to look away, anger roiling beneath his plating. He hated that he couldn’t just feel sympathy for their situation; wrapped up in it was the knowledge that they had come, not for him, but for something he might provide. He had always been a tool for other mechanisms, from his days on the streets up through his rise in the Decepticons, and hoping for any different after he defected, after the war ended, after he joined Rodimus’ side kept demanding a steeper price.

He was still trying to figure out what he could say that Deadlock would not have when the plasma bolt caught him.

It hit his right shoulder from behind and sent him sprawling. He landed on the hard ground and gasped as pain, numbness, and the tingle of backup sensors raced up his armor in rapid succession. Calibration had not finished before he was trying to get up again.

“Drift!” Ratchet and Rodimus yelled.

He grunted and tried to see who shot him but had to roll away to dodge a second bullet aimed for his helm. He heard a second, quiet shuttle landing beside his own and realized his mistake.

The third shot went wide, expecting him to keep rolling in the same direction, and he took advantage of the lost second to leap to his feet and lunge at Grit’s crewmate, frozen at the edge of the hatch. His left sword came up to block another volley and then he was on the Decepticon, spinning and shoving him to the floor of the hatch with his gun arm pinned behind his back. There was nothing he could do to stop the remote-piloted shuttle, though, already taking off while the other two scrambled aboard. He shoved the Decepticon into the ground, then jumped over him. Someone was shouting, but he didn’t hear the words. If he could catch the underside of the ship—

He missed. The thrusters fired just as he leapt and sent him hurtling, skidding across the plateau. He tumbled end over end, plating banging against the solid ground, until at last he came to a stop on his back, staring at the open sky.

He struggled to sit up. The pain wasn’t bad, but vertigo had him misjudging the weight of his frame. He heard the shuttle flying away before he could see it, followed by gunshots. He started to roll over, a delayed evasive maneuver, before he realized that the blasterfire was coming from the ground. Rodimus and Ratchet had retrieved weapons and were shooting at the retreating shuttle while their own sat idle.

“Go!” Drift shouted. He hoped that was what he’d said. “Don’t let them break atmosphere.” He swayed onto his feet, looking around for the sword that had flown from his grasp.

A pulse flew by his helm, singing the air itself, and he turned around to see the Decepticon crumple to the ground, gun falling out of his hand.

“Not leaving you behind,” Rodimus said.

“Not like we’ve had great luck chasing people off world anyway,” Ratchet added.

Above their heads, the shuttle’s thrusters pulsed as it prepared for the final push to break atmosphere. Already it was receding from view, the planet’s smog layer rolling in to cover its retreat, and Drift knew it would be off his own ship’s sensor range long before he got it airborne. He tried to gauge how far a ship like that could travel before it needed to stop for fuel.

“You okay, Drift?” Rodimus asked.

Drift shut off his comms.

He picked up his sword on his way back to the shuttle. The Decepticon was lying on the ground, clutching his hip; warm energon seeped from between his fingers. Drift doubted he would die from the wound, but the bleeding was enough to make anyone panic, which was exactly what he needed right now. He pointed his blunted weapon at the Decepticon’s throat, allowing the curve of the blade to cut a hair-thin line in the plating housing his central energon line.

“What’s your name?” he asked. “How important are you to Grit?” Voice trembling slightly; good. Most Cybertronians knew the difference between shivers of fear and barely-concealed anger.

“Spur,” the Decepticon squeaked, trying to back away from the sword while keeping both hands on his hip. Drift noted the dent in his helm where Rodimus had shot him earlier. “We were stationed on the same moon. We’re business partners.”

“Are they coming back for you?”

“Yes!” Spur nodded his head, optics bright and wide. “They’re coming back with reinforcements, and they’re going to be mad if something happens to me.”

Drift would have groaned, had he the energy. Even if Spur was lying (most likely) the possibility of Grit reaching out to other rogues put Vitrious in a much riskier situation than it had been in before. Suddenly, it was no longer a matter of stopping a single slave trade operation: now there was information on the line, harder to predict and much more complicated to contain. Once he had the immediate threats neutralized, he was going to have to determine whether the Galactic Council should be tipped off to the vulnerability of this sector, a question of whether safety from Decepticons was worth the Council’s brand of planetary defense.

That was a problem for the future, though, one he was able to brush aside as he sheathed his sword and leaned down, hoisting Spur with his good arm while he used his bad one for balance.

“What? Hey, wh—”

“You know where they’re going,” Drift said. “Give me the coordinates.”

“N-no! What would I—”

“You want to get back together with your crew, right?” Drift asked, dropping Spur back into the ruined cell. “Give me the coordinates and I’ll make sure you’re still online when we drop you off.” It was a bluff, of course, but Drift had always had a talent for making bots think the worst of him.

He received the packet over a broadband comm frequency. After scanning it for viruses, he diverted it to the ship’s navigation system, then popped open one of the panels in the wall and retrieved a pile of stained rags. He crouched beside Spur and dropped the rags so he could catch one of the Con’s desperate hands and pry it away from his wound.

“Wait—”

“Relax,” he commanded, deftly retrieving his cuffs so he could clip one end around Spur’s wrist and the other to the lower frame of the cell where it extended slightly from the floor. It would make for a less comfortable trip, but that was what he got for breaking Drift’s things: Grit had shorted the locking mechanism and brute forced the failsafe. It would be a time-consuming fix, both whatever patch job he could throw together and the eventual repair stop he would have to make at a legitimate mechanic.

Satisfied Spur was secure, he pulled away Spur’s other hand and started to mop up the spilled energon with one of the rags. Already, the flow had slowed, but he wanted to see the damage for himself before he trusted self-repair.

“Here,” he said, pushing the pile to Spur. “Pack the wound with that to slow the bleeding. I’ll take a closer look once we’re airborne.”

Spur stared at the rags like he had no idea what to do with them, which Drift doubted. One did not make it through a war like theirs without learning the tricks to keep a body from dying.

“Why?” he asked.

Drift received a ping from the navicomp and waved off Spur’s question, retreating to the pilot’s console to confirm the flight path. As he had suspected, the destination was not far. Even doubling the computer’s estimated travel time, which had become necessary since the last time he’d wormed his was into the engine, it would still barely be enough time to prepare for a conflict. He hit a button to raise the hatch and input the commands to prepare for takeoff. Faint voices were buzzing through the ship’s comm system, and he entertained the idea of shutting that off, too.

“Gonna get that?” Spur asked, optics angling to the speaker.

“Don’t know,” Drift said, playing with the volume control. The sound dipped so low he might have mistaken it for a piece of his thoughts, too indistinct to even be called nonsense.

“It’s your team, right?”

“No, not really.” He shut it off, the sound of the engine filling the space so immediately he didn’t have time to miss it.

“I would’ve killed you, if it hadn’t been for them.”

Drift glanced back. Spur had taken his suggestion and was packing the wound, and there was defiance in his posture now that he was not stooping to keep himself from bleeding out.

“No, you wouldn’t have,” Drift said. “You were aiming for my helm, right? The finials make me look taller than I really am. Your shot would have missed my cranial casing by less than an inch. A blow like that would knock me down, make it look like you had hit, but I would have received more damage from the fall itself than the gunshot. Provided I landed with my palm down, I would have retaliated before you got your finger back around the trigger.” He turned back to the viewshield. Ratchet and Rodimus had disappeared, the Decepticraft’s hatch was shut, and the engines were coming online.

Spur huffed.

“Autobots are weird.”

“I’m not an Autobot.”

“Nah, but they are.” There was a clink of metal, as though Spur had tried to gesture with his bound hand. “Never seen them give a scrap about a bot like you.”

A notification came up: shuttle primed and ready.

“Listen,” Spur said. “You’ve clearly got some sort of history. I don’t care what. But in my experience, there’s no bigger nuisance in the universe than an Autobot who decides to care about something, especially if it happens to be none of his business and all of yours. So, in the interest of not getting shot again, can you at least make sure you have those two under control?”

Drift leaned his head back to look at the ceiling. He wasn’t an Autobot. Not anymore, Rodimus had seen to that, and he’d never really wanted to be one, anyway. Did he care about things in a fundamentally different way from how Ratchet and Rodimus did? Had the divides in their species been driven down that far? Or had they been the reason for the war in the first place? He didn’t have an answer for that. But maybe Spur had a point. Without looking, he turned the comms back on.

“—on’t go yet, just listen, we—”

“What.”

“Drift!” Rodimus said.

“What’s your fuel pump pressure?” Ratchet asked. “Feel anything loose or out of alignment?”

Drift shook his head. There was a twinge in his shoulder and the usual weight of his body, but those were manageable.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Grit’s collecting reinforcements. I’m going to intercept. You two should head for the nearest Council-aligned planet and wait there; if you hear even a rumor that Cybertronians have started moving in, let the local enforcement division know.” They would alert the Galactic Council security forces, and then Vitrious would be out of their hands.

“We’re coming with you,” Rodimus said, though the tone was all wrong. He sounded like Ratchet.

“No.” Commands had never suited Drift’s voice; even now, it came out sounding like a demand. “I can’t help you, and I sure as slag can’t protect you. What happens if the Decepticons find you? Or worse, get onto the ship and find the—” he glanced back at Spur, “—the you-know-what? Then it’s not just Vitrious: everyone’s problems get so much worse.” His fingers were drumming the console, an anxious non-beat. “I’m sorry that you wasted so much time coming out here and that you’re having to live through this. Really, I am. But I need you to let me do this.” Once Grit was taken care of, he would regroup with them and do what he could to help their situation, what little it was. But his list of debts was long and this one came first.

“We don’t need your help or your protection,” Ratchet said. “Believe it or not, we’re more than capable of taking care of ourselves, and we can recognize when someone else’s problems are more pressing than our own. We’re coming to help you, Drift.”

His hands wrapped around the yoke.

“I’m not going to—”

“We’ve still got a tracker on that shuttle,” Ratchet went on. “So, you can either ping us the coordinates now and let us strategize on the way there, or you can wait for us to catch up in the middle of—of whatever this is. Your call.”

Drift’s engine growled. He heard a hiccup from behind and turned his glare on Spur, who looked inappropriately unrepentant for a mech cuffed to the floor.

“I hope you know I hate you both.”

“Hey!” Rodimus yelped, but Ratchet laughed, and a moment later Rodimus’ nervous chuckle floated through as well.

#maccadam #transformers #dratchrod #drift #ratchet #rodimus #my writing #longfic #fault lines

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illlidans · 3 years

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Buy used car tips

Action 1: Establish Your Spending plan You can purchase a used vehicle with cash money or by getting a vehicle loan. Presume which way is the smartest. We just advise spending for an automobile with cash money. No vehicle repayments right here! Yes, that suggests you'll have a severe damage in your cost savings, yet you'll miss the stress of investing thousands of dollars on car loan repayments monthly. Isn't that outstanding? For instance, if you borrow $10,000 for an automobile with a 5% rates of interest as well as a term of five years, you'll end up investing an added $1,322.74 in passion. Not so inexpensive anymore! However prior to you lose hope, remember this: You can find reputable pre-owned vehicles in any type of cost variety. If you're battling monetarily, you can locate an automobile to obtain you from point A to factor B for as low as $1,000 to $2,000. It might not be rather, yet you'll get by. If you aren't satisfied with the vehicles you can manage, bear in mind that you can take all that money you reduce vehicle settlements every month as well as stash it away for an upgrade. Just make it a top priority in your budget! P.S. If you need a budgeting tool, provide ours a test-drive in a Ramsey+ complimentary trial. It'll help you get going on ending up being debt-free and also functioning your method to the cars and truck you really want. Step 2: Find Your Perfect Vehicle When you have actually established your budget plan, you can locate your excellent auto. Not your dream auto. Your ideal car. It's the one that ideal fits your way of living and your reasons for buying it. Prior to you state your commitment to your favored vehicle brand, go back as well as have a look at the kinds of vehicles and what each was created to do. Trucks, as an example, were designed to lug goods and also hefty materials. So unless you're hauling heavy cargo regularly (you know-- crushed rock, lumber, blocks), do not buy a truck. For a great traveler lorry, stick with choices that are portable as well as energy reliable, like cars, hatchbacks or hybrids. Narrow down your choices with this fast list. Read through these declarations and also pick three that relate to your situation the most. Use your solution to assist choose which sort of cars and truck is perfect for you. ____ I want a vehicle with a lot of freight space. ____ I desire an automobile that can fit even more people. ____ I want a lorry with far better gas economy. ____ I desire an automobile that's very easy to enter and out of. ____ I want a lorry that's risk-free. ____ I want a lorry that's much better for the environment. ____ I want my lorry to lug heavy cargo. ____ I want to go off-road or on harsh terrain. ____ I desire my lorry to be compact as well as light for city car park. ____ I desire my car to have lugging abilities. As you choose your perfect vehicle, you'll have to make some sacrifices as well. You won't discover an automobile that does whatever. So prepare your heart for that. Be honest with yourself regarding your wants as well as your requirements, and believe long term regarding exactly how you'll be utilizing your automobile. Want to Save a Little Money? Obviously you do. So think about features you do not need your vehicle to have. Not simply technology like in-dash GPS, Bluetooth connectivity and also backup video cameras-- yet the basics as well. What kind of standard points? Well, take cylinders, for instance. Today, a 2011 Kia Sorento with 6 cyndrical tubes prices around $8,350 to $10,750.4 The exact same Kia with a four-cylinder engine? $7,750 to $10,150 (as well as these numbers change almost day-to-day).5 Though it might not feel like a great deal, you can take that added (virtually) $600 as well as put it towards your car insurance policy. Tip: Unless you're hauling hefty freight, simply stick with 4 cylinders. What concerning the transmission? Stick shifts are typically cheaper than automatics, some versions also improve gas mileage, as well as last but not least-- they're simply ordinary enjoyable to drive. As well as do you actually require four-wheel drive (AWD), or can you get by with front- or rear-wheel drive (2WD)? Unless you reside in the hills or handle great deals of rain, snow as well as ice on your commute, stick to front- or rear-wheel drive if you're simply driving in the city. Bonus Tip: When you're comparing different automobiles, do not neglect to think of insurance costs also. Deal with an independent insurance coverage representative who can help you save without shedding on protection on your cars and truck. Action 3: Buy a Used Automobile Now that you understand how much you can spend and also what kind of cars and truck cares for your requirements, you can begin buying. But initially, let's talk about two areas you ought to stay away from. New automobile dealers. Although a lot of new car dealers market utilized cars, they're always a lot more costly. Buy-here, pay-here great deals. These great deals refer to car dealerships that not just offer autos (get here) yet additionally use vehicle loan (pay here). You have actually seen these places. They generally have multicolor pennant streamers strung between light posts as well as a 20-foot blow-up gorilla trembling a "sale" indicator. Yep, you understand the kind. Stay clear of these lots as well. Their cars have a lots of surprise charges, and they likewise typically have less than a 48-hour return policy. With a little bit much more looking, you can locate better utilized cars somewhere else. Here are 6 places to begin your search. CarMax has a significant online stock and a very detailed cars and truck inspection. Carvana, like CarMax, has a huge supply and also does careful vehicle inspections. The difference is that Carvana is entirely an on the internet vehicle buying experience. And also Carvana delivers the cars and truck to you! Craigslist doesn't bill you a purchase fee (like ebay.com does). eBay Motors markets cars and trucks with online auctions and buy-it-now straight acquisitions. Display room grass can be dangerous, yet sometimes, the very best deals come from purchasing from an exclusive proprietor. Independent utilized vehicle dealers are likewise a clever area to look. Certain, you need to discuss with aggressive sales people, however you can certainly locate an offer at a strong car dealership. Step 4: Identify the Utilized Car's Worth Currently it's time to identify if the used automobile you have actually picked deserves the price. Collect all the info you can on the cars and truck so you can talk the vendor down to a much better deal. 1. Start with Kelley Directory (KBB). KBB uses data collected from real sales purchases and also auction prices to give you an exact price variety for the made use of cars and truck. 2. Buy a car history report (VHR). A good VHR prices regarding $50 as well as consists of mishap history, possession background, and also a lots of various other records. A VHR eliminates a great deal of uncertainty regarding the used car because it will certainly reveal you if the automobile has actually been in any kind of mishaps or has actually already invested a great deal of time in the shop. Vehicle Background supplies a totally free fundamental record, however if you will drop a couple grand on a used vehicle, purchase a detailed record from CARFAX. You'll require the VIN number (usually discovered beneath the windshield on the driver's side). Pro suggestion: If the VIN number has been damaged off or eliminated, don't buy the auto. That's a big warning. Possibilities are, the secondhand vehicle has actually been taken or the seller is concealing something. 3. Determine the possession price. That's what you'll spend to preserve the vehicle (oil modifications, new tires, liquid purges) as well as what long-term fixings you must anticipate for the make and design you're taking a look at. You'll likewise require to understand the costs and availability of substitute parts since parts for some automobiles are extra costly than others. You can make use of Edmunds Real Price to Own device to get a great price quote. 4. Discover on-line discussion forums concentrated on the used cars and truck. Virtually every design has an online forum with strings extending back a great while. Seek common concerns that owners have had with the type of automobile you wish to get. 5. Check the automobile's recall history. Don't think the vendor has actually dealt with a used automobile's security recalls. Actually, over 70 million vehicles get on the roadway with open recalls on them.6 And yeah, you guessed it-- people still try to market those automobiles without getting the recall fixed. So what can you do? Examine the National Highway Web Traffic Administration for your automobile's recall background (if it has one). 6. Request an insurance quote. Used cars and trucks are normally less costly to guarantee than brand-new ones. Actually, a 5-year-old auto is about 14% less costly to insure than its brand-new equivalent.7 If you already have insurance, ask how much your premium will certainly alter if you buy a certain make and also model. Work with an independent insurance policy agent who will do the buying you. Tip 5: Inspect the Made Use Of Auto Yourself Even if you're not a mechanic, you can use this listing of advice from the Department of Motor Automobiles to check for signs of damage and misuse. While none of these things alone should quit you from acquiring the automobile (except for major damage, like a blown head gasket), a bunch of these can stop you from buying somebody else's cars and truck trouble. Under the Hood Examine the oil level as well as color. Oil dipsticks lie near the engine (generally a yellow stick). Oil must be light brown. If there's no oil in the engine, that's a good sign this is a bad deal. Check the shade of the oil under the oil cap (located on the engine). If it's milky-- what some mechanics call "mayonnaise"-- do not buy the used cars and truck. If the oil is milk like, it's combining with coolant, a common indication of a blown head gasket (in some cases a $3,500 fixing). Check the belts. Belts lie around the engine, occasionally on the engine's side, so you may need a flashlight for this action. Belts ought to be smooth with no fractures. Broken belts aren't a bargain breaker, but you'll require to replace them quickly. Examine the transmission liquid dipstick (generally a red stick). Transmission liquid ought to be pink or red. If it's black and also smells burned, that's a poor indication. Transmission replacements are costly, so if you locate that the vendor hasn't replaced the fluid in a while, reevaluate buying the used cars and truck. Check the degree of the coolant. It needs to be between minimum as well as optimum. The coolant tank is someplace near the radiator. If you can't find the reservoir, ask the seller where it's located. Caution: Don't open the coolant cap while the engine is hot or if the automobile is running. Check the brake fluid. Make sure it's at the highest level. Outdoors Check out the cars and truck's paint work. Look for damages and also scratches. Check the tires. They ought to all coincide (not mismatched), as well as they should have also put on across the width. Look for scuffs, splits and cuts along the sidewall. Check the spare tire too. Examine the tail pipeline. If it's black, that indicates the vehicle is shedding oil-- an additional poor indicator. Open and shut the doors, as well as the trunk, fuel door and gas cap. Ensure they all job. Inspect the lights. Ask the vendor to run the directional signal, fronts lights and brake lights as you make sure (outside the car) that they function. Inside Take a deep breath. If the cars and truck smells mildewy or if you see mold under the seats, there's a likelihood the car has water damage that could bring about expensive electric problems. If there's an air freshener or if the cars and truck scents suspiciously scented, open the windows and also leave them open as you examine drive the car. When you're done with the test drive, you'll have the ability to smell the car's natural scent. Check the endure the steering wheel, seats and also pedals. Minor wear can be anticipated-- particularly if it's an older cars and truck. Lock and also unlock all doors. Make sure they function. Check A/C as well as heating. Everybody takes these things for provided ... till they don't function. Idle the cars and truck and watch the temperature scale. You do not want to acquire a pre-owned vehicle that overheats. See to it the radiator followers kick on when the temperature starts increasing. Step 6: Opt For a Test Drive When you're taking the vehicle for your initial test-drive, turn off the stereo and ask your guests (perfectly) to stay peaceful so you can pay attention for any problems. Before you test-drive, choose a route with hills, bumps and, yep, even potholes. Even if you intend to make use of the automobile on highways and level roadways, examination the auto on harsh roads to get a feeling of just how it handles the roadway.

Utilize your test-drive to respond to these inquiries:

Feel Exactly how does it feel on level roads? Smooth or bumpy? Just how does it feel when it hits a bump or pothole? Does it rock aggressively? Does the auto battle to pick up speed? Do the equipments transform smoothly? Is the brake squishy or also delicate? How does your body really feel after the test drive? Was the seat uncomfortable?

Sound Does the engine sound smooth when you increase? Does the engine rattle, knock or grind when you still? Are there resonances or weird noises under the hood when you speed up over 60 MPH? Do the brakes squeak?

View Can you see out of the cars and truck easily? Do you need to stress your neck to check your blind spots? Does black smoke come out of the exhaust when you begin the car or increase? Is the RPM gauge constant when you idle? Does it rise and fall way too much?

Smell Transform the cooling to a modest setting. Do you scent burning oil? Action 7: Take the Made Use Of Vehicle to a Reliable Mechanic If the car has actually passed your individual examination, great. Currently allow's see if it passes the technician's examination. If the vendor does not want an auto mechanic to evaluate the vehicle, that's a negative sign. Constantly have a mechanic check a secondhand car, regardless of the condition. A great auto mechanic will inform if you will purchase a trustworthy previously owned cars and truck or if it has any type of issues.

When it pertains to assessments, you have two options:

Take the cars and truck to a trustworthy garage. Most cars and truck garages charge a flat charge for checking made use of automobiles. They'll place the automobile on the lift, check for corrosion and also corrosion, as well as tell you if the utilized auto has extreme fluid leakages. If you're working with a private seller who does not desire you to take the vehicle off his/her residential property, established a mobile assessment. A technician will pertain to the vehicle, execute the examination, and print out the results. If a technician tells you the car has problems that surpass its worth, kindly tell the vendor you're no longer interested, or utilize that knowledge to reduce the asking price. Tip 8: Usage Arrangement Skills If you have excellent factors to believe the vendor must decrease the asking cost, you can utilize everything you've just learned about utilized automobiles as ammo to work out a far better bargain. Arrangements can be tough for people who don't like to be confrontational. Bargain like a professional with these 3 ideas. 1. Bring your research to the table. Allow's say the vendor wants $3,000 for his previously owned Volkswagen Jetta. Kelley Directory claims the ordinary rate range for that Jetta is $2,800 to $3,000. But you observed that the tires are bald as well as a front lights does not function. And also you review online that this version has troubles with radiator followers. Your VHR reveals no owner has actually ever before replaced the radiator followers. Ah-ha! Now you have actually got something. Bring all this details to the seller-- factor in the cost of tires, a front lights and a radiator follower-- and supply less. 2. Pay in cash money. Inform the seller you'll be paying for your used car in cash money-- just don't expose how much money you have. When vendors sniff eco-friendly, they're most likely to agree on your terms. 3. Hold your horses. If the vendor does not budge, you can leave. You have all the acquiring power. Most of the moment, they need your money more than you require their vehicle.

This article is written by https://allamericanexporter.com/

#cars #usedcars #toyota #bmv

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socialistexan · 4 years

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SWSH were good, solid games, y'all are just a bunch of entitled babies. It's not perfect - none of the games were despite what rose-colored glasses you have on about Gens 1-4 tell you - but it's not "ragepost and review bomb" bad either.

So I'm going to address some of the common complaints that range from ridiculous to valid but overblown:

Roster Cuts

Like it or not, the roster of Pokemon had to be cut down. We were push 1,000 mons and expecting a dev team to model every single one of them in full HD with every possible move they could learn without it taking half a decade would cause unimaginable crunch and a worse product.

Is going down to 400 a little much? Maybe, but no game since the originals has made it so you can complete your Pokedex with only the two games of the current generation. Trade evos were available in the wild! It also made competitive battling so much more streamlined, accessable, and imo enjoyable. This is the first time since Gen 5 were I've bothered even trying to plan a team. Gen 8 is the first time I invested more than just a quick playthrough of the story and put it down in almost a decade, I actually wanted to play more postgame.

Sure some of the cuts make no sense (the previous staters for example) and some of the inclusions didn't make sense (Stunfisk!?), but it generally made the games so much more accessable.

It wasn't made exactly how I want it

Not everything has to be exclusively made for you, Violet Beauregard.

Too easy

I hate to tell you this, but Pokemon games have never been that hard no matter what your memories tell you about Whitney or the Elite 4. Most of the things that made these games "too easy" were generally positive quality of life improvements that either most RPGs have (team exp growth, regenerating loot), just make things more streamlined (accessing Boxes anywhere), or are fun additions (Max Raids)

The leveling system in particular is great for someone like me, an adult with a full time job where I work 50 hours a week on average, is a g-dsend. I've EV trained mons like my Lapras (Dracovish counter) without really using at the front of my party. It's a shame you can't toggle it, but if you want to level or ev train only one mon, then just deposit others or bring in a ringer to absorb exp and act as backup if you need it.

The story isn't engrossing or too simplistic

Did y'all play Red and Blue? The were some of the most story-lite RPGs I've played, yet so many of us became so involved because of mechanics, the openness, and the pokemon themselves. SWSH's story, while fairly linear (though no where near as linear as say SM) is still leaps and bounds ahead of that.

Things that just don't get complimented enough

The Wild Area (though I wish it was bigger), TR's, roster and type rebalance, some really great new mons (Corviknight, wooloo, obstegoon, dragapult)

Idk I feel like there's more, but I feel like people decided they were going to hate it before they even played it or even had much info in addition to the sort of anti-recency bias we've seen lately especially in geek culture. I feel like people need to just take these games for what they are and not what they imagined pokemon was when they were in elementary school.

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

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PARADOX PLANET (1 part) The arrival of men on the World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to the World of Sea

GONE TO SEA

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

Excerpt from a novel of Sea presently in progress

2579 words

writing begun 2005

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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1. Paradox Planet

This was going to be difficult, thought Captain Alain. In the wardroom of his ship, the ESA 14, he faced Mr. Torres, the leader of the colonial expedition. Mr. Torres was not a happy man.

“This is an outrage!” he said ferociously. “I can read clocks and calendars as well as any! We were to be awakened from Crossover Sleep on arrival at the system. It has been over a year, local time, since you got here.” He paused to breathe heavily, angrily and went on, “Now, only I have been awakened! What are you up to?”

Captain Alain Looked over at the gray painted metal bulkhead relieved only by pictures mounted to the wall. The duty crews painted them as a hobby to fill the long empty years of the passage. Even faster than light Crossover Drives had limits. Stars were still an unimaginably great distance apart, many of them were years apart. This expedition, two hundred and eighteen light-years distant from Earth, at just over twenty one years of flight time, was no exception. Unless some further distant worthwhile planet had been found in the passing years, this was the longest colonial run that the ESA had tried.

Captain Alain looked down at the pile of files, data disks and crystals in front of him and back to Mr. Torres. He decided to be blunt.

“You know that due to energy constraints, this had to be a one way trip for you and the other colonists. We were trying to find a way to save your expedition’s lives. We failed.”

That brought Mr. Torres up short. “Trying to save us? You failed?” His eyes went wide, “Did my people die?”

“No, they are all well and asleep. The problem is not on the ship. It is the target world. It is everything that the probe reported. We need to report back and have the probes reprogrammed. Nobody expected a world like Sea.”

“C?”, asked Mr. Torres, puzzled. “Is it because it’s the third world? Why call it C?”

“Sea, as in ocean,” said Captain Alain reaching into his pile of data and handing over a crystal. “Look for yourself.”

Mr. Torres activated the viewing controls and knit his brows in concentration as he examined the picture and data flowing beneath it. “Where are the land masses? On the other side? It says that I’ve rotated the view but it’s no different.”

“It did rotate, Mr. Torres. There is no land anywhere on Sea.” Captain Alain paused to collect his thoughts. “So far as we can tell, the last island sank for good between one and a half and two and a half million years ago.” He gestured at the image. “If you boost the magnification far enough you will find floating weed mats and shallow areas that you can use to follow the rotation of the globe.”

Mr. Torres looked again, at high magnification. The skilled ecologist in him rebelled at what he was seeing. “This is not possible. Without land masses to break up air flows by both barrier and convection effects the atmosphere should turn into high speed bands of wind.”

“My crew and I are well aware of the problem, Mr. Torres,” said Captain Alain with the air of one who wished that he had not found the answer to a puzzle. “The reason that the atmosphere does not band is every bit as bad as what you have just seen.”

Once again he removed an image crystal from his pile of data. “As you watch this, bear in mind that it is a direct recording of an actual event. You can change the time compression to suit your own taste. It won’t alter what you will see.” Wryly he added, “We have already said that it’s impossible. It will spare you the effort.”

In utter disbelief, Mister Torres stopped the crystal playback and restarted it several times. It showed the birth of a storm. A large rotating depression was forming at about sixty five degrees South Latitude. Sympathetically, Captain Alain said, “Go ahead and let it play. It only gets worse.”

The storm swept north along a large curve that appeared to be dictated by Coriolis force. The warmer seas of the tropics fueled the storm and it grew into a monster with a core of powerful storm cells over a thousand miles across. The vastly aberrant storm’s clouds did not limit themselves to the troposphere. They towered high into the stratosphere, where no sane cloud mass, let alone a whole cyclonic storm, belonged. The wind speeds achieved over three hundred and twenty kilometers per hour.

The counterclockwise rotation of the storm should have killed it when it crossed the equator to the Northern Hemisphere where the same Coriolis force would now try to make the storm rotate clockwise. Instead, the storm broke apart into individual thunderstorms that followed precise vectors across the equator and reassembled themselves into a giant clockwise rotating storm, all angular momentum preserved, and with no loss of wind speed.

It followed a Coriolis arc north and finally cold northern waters robbed its energy. It broke up into thunderstorms, squalls and fogs about sixty five degrees North Latitude.

Captain Alain said, “Hard to believe, isn’t it? We have observed eight of those aberrations of nature and they ALL do that. Because of the form of the path that they follow, we are calling them Coriolis Storms. It’s as though there were a guiding intelligence handling the storm. Lovely fantasy. It would take at least nine of the most powerful synchronous orbit Weather Sats with a fleet of Low Orbit backups to get even one of those storms across the equator. It would be touch and go, even with equipment like that. All that we have here are the three moons and the primary star. We just haven’t figured out the natural mechanism yet, that’s all.

“The worst part of this is that while the spacing and placement of the storms appears to be completely unpredictable, statistically every part of the planet will get hit at least once every five years by one of these monsters. The crew has a betting pool on where and when the next one will occur. The sample is still too small to be sure but it is beginning to appear that the storms are not completely random in their occurrence.”

Mister Torres surprised Captain Alain. He accepted the statements without comment and quietly sat, thinking. At last he spoke thoughtfully, “I’m not an engineer but perhaps we can deal with the storms by going under them. Build domes or habitats on the reefs maybe. The water is calm only a few feet below the waves.”

Captain Alain gave Mister Torres points for being quick on his mental feet. Gently, he said, “My crew and I ARE engineers. We did think of that. Unfortunately, it can’t be done. A dome is an engineering nightmare. The buoyancy is massive. The pressure gradient from top to bottom is all wrong. The air pressure inside the dome is controlled by the depth of the lowest part of it. That means that the dome will try to burst at the top because the water pressure is lowest there and the inside air is at the pressure of deepest part where the water pressure is highest. Small habitats would be possible except that we don’t have the materials to build that many of them and can’t get what we need from the environment.

“We brought equipment to mine on land or in space. We can fabricate almost any device except for a tiny problem. There’s no land to mine and the rest of the system is metal poor. This world does have quite a lot of high quality ores. Unfortunately they are under about fifty to over nine hundred meters of water. We can’t get at them. Captain Alain inhaled heavily and added, “We can’t even get useful silica sand on this planet. It’s in the same situation as the metal ores. The common coral sand is useless for glass making.

“What we can do is process the local coral and coral sands into a form of concrete. It is possible to get useful amounts of aluminum, magnesium and small amounts of titanium from the seawater. We can go to the three moons for silicates to make glasses. They even have small amounts of available iron and some other useful metals. The silicates make structural glass a real possibility. Fiberglass is also practical. Many of the local seaweeds will process to yield various useful plastic resins for both the fiberglass and to mold directly into useful objects.

“In this environment, only the titanium and structural glass are durable. Corrosion will destroy the other metals in short order. Concrete made from coral is subject to long term erosion by the water, not to mention the many animals and plants that will attack it. Even the fiberglass will have a limited life due to long term water absorption. Of course you can recycle the fiberglass materials.”

Now it was Mister Torres who spoke. “You know about the nutritional deficiency issues of this world, um … Sea? Good name, by the way.”

Captain Alain accepted the compliment with a nod and replied, “Yes. You will be short a pair of critical amino acids, a small raft of vitamins, and there’s a carbohydrate problem of some sort.”

It was Mister Torres who spread his hands now. “You are right. We brought the solutions to all of that along in the form of crop seeds and embryonic animals. We did not expect to have no place to raise them. Hydroponics could answer the plant problem, perhaps. The animals are a different matter altogether. They have to have a certain amount of space for proper development.” He paused and looked thoughtfully at a painting of Mt Fuji, back on Earth, “Could we bypass the growth of the animals and do a carniculture system? I ask because that is more an engineering problem.”

Captain Alain considered in his turn. Mister Torres let him think. A thousand lives hung in the balance. At last, Captain Alain said, “It could be done. It has been done before. There is a nutrient limitation. You have to be able to supply the culture tissues with the necessary amino acids. The whole animal would manufacture its own from the crops fed to it. The culture can’t do that. I think that with the available resources, you are stuck with raising the animals whole. I can ask. We didn’t think of that solution.” He dictated a note for his ship’s system engineers to look into it.

Suddenly Mister Torres exclaimed, “Those storms all follow the same pattern! That means that if we build a platform, we can design it to be strongest in a direction that will resist the storms best! What sort of tidal variation are we dealing with?”

Captain Alain thought a moment and consulted his data. His brows knit as he worked through the problem. “When the sun and the moons line up unfavorably, the sea level can drop until the shallows become shoal-water. At the other extreme, the water depth can go to twenty meters. A storm depression coupled with a low tide can actually bare the upper parts of the coral. That kills the coral and limits upward growth.”

Mister Torres shook his head. “Between storms, coral should grow on the skeletons of the dead coral and cause island building. Why doesn’t it?”

Captain Alain realized from the form of the question that Mister Torres was giving him credit for intelligence and was pleased. He answered, “There’s a common fish with a hard beak. It seems to think that the dead coral is a delicacy and mows the reef down as it grazes. It chews up the stone to get the dead organisms. That’s what makes the coral sand.”

Mister Torres nodded. “Like the parrot fish back home. Makes sense. The same fish attacks our concrete too?”

Captain Alain just nodded. Then he had a thought. Excitedly he said, “We could put titanium mesh in the outer layers of the concrete. That would keep the fish out of anything structural. Once the platform was built, you could process more concrete on your own. You could re-plaster the areas that the fish attack.”

He subsided, “You’d have all your eggs in one basket, though. The thing would have to be huge. We can only marshal the resources to build one.”

“It’s not really that important,” said Mister Torres softly. “There’s no possible way for us to survive until a ship can return with what we do need. Still, we have to have the platform for morale reasons. My people need hope. It’s all that we can really do for them.”

Captain Alain suggested, “We can request a recovery expedition as soon as we get back. It is ESA policy to have a colony ship ready for just such an emergency.”

Mister Torres shook his head negatively. “I fear that the war that was shaping up will be long over when you get back. I pray that you will be able to survive your return. I do not think that there is any possibility of our survival.”

Captain Alain looked compassionately at Mister Torres. He shook his head. “You’re right. The war will change everything back home. We received messages from Earth before we got The drive up to threshold energy. The shooting did start. We were ordered to return but disobeyed. I can only hope that some form of the ESA has survived.

“As for your platform, even with the Crossover Drive to push us faster than light, we can’t get back to you in time. No platform that we can build will survive long enough. It is going to get hit by at least five and probably more of those Coriolis Storms. One of them will sweep it away. Without its facilities, your people will die of malnutrition in fairly short order.”

Mister Torres looked back at Captain Alain and said bleakly, “I know that. What we are going to do is simple. We will lie to your crew and my colonists alike. We will fake evidence to show that the necessary nutrients can be found in the ecology. We just can’t localize them well enough from space. The search will keep hope in them to the last.”

Captain Alain closed his eyes in pain. This was indeed difficult. Why couldn’t Mister Torres be angry, rail at fate or just cry? This calm acceptance, this cold blooded planning to deceive a thousand doomed people was beyond him. He shook himself and said, “Very well, we will follow your lead. Two of my crew will have to be in the conspiracy. They are needed to create the false data.”

That simply, the decision was made. With massive labor, a platform was built with all of the best systems, electronic controls and computerized communications. It held laboratories, shops, apartments, docks for boats, recreational and farming spaces. All critical exposed areas, like the upper levels of the farms, could be closed over with locking domes in bad weather. On the platform, a space one kilometer by one and a half kilometers, several stories thick, a thousand people were left on a planet that could not support them. Only one of their number actually knew what had been done.

–The End–

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to the World of Sea

#PARADOX PLANET #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

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sweeteliteguides · 5 years

Text

Sweet Elite — Chapter 6 Guide

Key:

Negative affinity result: - Neutral affinity result: / Positive affinity result: + Romantic Option: ♥

Illustrations: 4 (View illustrations here.)

Energy cost: 242

Achievements

Monster Appetite — Choose the Monster breakfast.

Confession — Have a heart-to-heart with Karolina about your, uh, friendship with Tadashi.

Taking one for the Team — Take the blame for losing the project.

Shady — Take the credit for restoring the project… Ouch.

------------------------------

Objective: Talk to your group about your project!

Second Hallway - Tadashi

Objective: Find everyone in your group and warn them about the meeting!

Classroom 1 - Axel

School Entrance - Raquel

Gym - Alistair

Third Hallway - Karolina

Garden - Claire

Classroom 2 - Tegan

Second Hallway - Tyler

Cafeteria Lounge - Axel and Neha

Computer Lab - Ellie

Objective: Help Tyler carry his canvas.

Dorm Hallway

When the bell rings

Classroom 2

After class

Dorm Room

It’s time to work on the group project! Go join your team.

Outside Cafeteria

If you go with Tadashi

Classroom 1

Objective: Go chat with your friends.

Classroom 1 - Ellie, Tegan, and Tyler

Auditorium - Axel

Gym - Alistair and Raquel

Classroom 2 - Claire and Neha

Outside Cafeteria - Karolina

Third Hallway - Tadashi

Objective: Follow Tyler!

Computer Lab

------------------------------

Scholar

[choice]

“Counterfeiting goods in the fashion industry.” (Karolina and Neha)

“How mechanization has changed the quality of food (vs. organic).” (Claire and Ellie)

(Other Choices)

[choice]

“The use and availability of contraceptives in schools.” (Alistair, Axel, and Raquel)

“Representation in media.” (Tegan and Tyler)

(Previous Choices)

[choice]

(A fruity breakfast.) /

(A protein-based breakfast.) /

(The Monster breakfast.) / [Achievement]

Alistair

[choice]

The rest of my project group... /

I don’t know if you can help... +

Who do you think? -

♥ [choice]

That eager to see me? +

Find me? /

What do you mean? -

[choice]

That eager to see me? +

Find me? /

What do you mean? -

Axel

[choice]

From everyone else? -

As if you could disappoint me. +

Do you want some company? /

♥ [choice]

(Try to convince him to join the group.) /

(I don’t think I can get him to change his mind.) +

(I can’t help but get a little upset) -

[choice]

(I take a deep breath to keep from getting too upset at his attitude.) /

(I have to try to convince him to join.) -

(I know Axel well enough to know I can’t change his mind.) +

Claire

[choice]

But I can see you’re pretty busy, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll go so you can finish your conversation. +

...What are you doing out here anyway? -

Do you know where I can find them? /

♥ [choice]

Ellie

[choice]

(I decided to applaud her for her hard work.) /

(I open the door, watching out for any sharp parts sticking out of the box.) +

I do mind, actually. -

♥ [choice]

Karolina

[choice]

(Ugh, this might bite me in the ass later on, but I have to see if she’s okay.) +

(You learned your lesson last time, Scholar. Let it go.) -

(I don’t really know what I should do.) /

Neha

[choice]

I was looking for my group members.

Is it bad to say I just wanted the pleasure of your company? +

[choice] (If you’re in the same group)

Aside from wanting to talk to the most talented person in the Fashion Department? /

Is it bad to say I just wanted the pleasure of your company? +

The group project. -

Raquel

[choice]

I didn’t know you and Tadashi were so close. +

He is a bit of a pill, isn’t he? /

Not very fun, is he? -

♥ [choice]

I kinda figured. +

You could use a break. -

Do you need the practice? /

[choice]

Please, Raquel... /

You know the group would fail without you... +

Why choose the topic if you won’t help us? -

Tadashi

[choice]

Sure, I’ll gather everyone! +

(I’m not quite sure how to respond to this...) /

I don’t think the others will be happy about starting it so soon. -

Well, I need to go and get some studying done. Do you have any plans?

I think I’m gonna go and get some studying done as well. + (Towards restoring your final project?(Chance to get Shady))

I’m gonna stay here a little bit more, talk with the team a little. / (Towards restoring your final project?(Chance to get Shady))

I think I’m gonna head to the dorms and take a nap. / (Towards losing your project?(Change to get Taking one for the Team))

[choice]

Yes, I did. / (- with whoever recovered the project/had a backup) [Achievement]

Yes, this angel here managed to fix it! (I point towards my savior.) / (+ with whoever recovered the project/had a backup)

Tegan

♥ [choice]

Tyler

♥ [choice]

(Well... He did say to ‘tell it to him straight.’) /

Tyler, I’m not sure how to word this... +

I think it looks... interesting. -

[choice]

(I need to be honest with him.) +

(I don’t know if I can tell him the truth.) -

(I don’t know how to tell him what I really think.) /

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otterknowbynow · 4 years

Text

Altean Home Economics (2/?)

Goo is great, but Hunk sure would feel better if they had kitchen access. all chapters in this tag | ao3 link in reblogs

"...and that's how you finish out the tuning sequence for the stabilizers, see? Quick as a stung clovenheifer!" Coran flips his hands off the controls with a flourish and turns to Pidge. "Your turn, number five."

“Got it.” She steps up to the helm and pulls up the three-dimensional diagram of the castle exterior, quickly jabbing her finger at different points of the model as she enters the sequences Coran had before. “This is fascinating,” she says as she works. “We can do all this remotely in a ship this large, and it even has the failsafe of an exterior interface if we need it? I’ve said it before, Coran, but the design here is really just --”

“--incredible, isn’t it? King Alfor really brought the best minds into this one, Pidge. Why, Hieronymus Wimbelton was unquestionably the best engineer of his age, a luminary in a time when most were centuries behind! The intricacies of the castle are a wonder even to this day, which suggests he was thousands of years ahead of his time. Of course, we can expect no less from a man whose descendents include yours truly, icon and paragon of Altean capability.”

“Uh-huh,” Pidge says absently, having pulled up a translucent keyboard in front of her on which she’s rapidly typing with both hands. The model of the castle spins and stops at various points, keeping up.

“Of course, even my skills have limits,” Coran is saying, now staring out into the array of stars. “I’ve never been one for woodworking, for example. That was more of my aunt Inga’s game -- that woman sculpted a table in the form of a pack of yalmor that could practically convince you they’d taken over your living room! I wonder where it is now. Probably --”

“Coran!” It’s Hunk’s voice that interrupts his reverie, and Coran turns from the window to see the yellow paladin looking awfully determined.

“What is it, number two?” Hunk raises his eyebrows and gives a little shake of his head.

“Alright, gonna let that one go for now,” he says, trying to focus on what’s important. “Is there. A kitchen. In this castle?”

“Ah, I see we’re all marveling at the castle’s design this morning -- yes, Hunk, there are several. You’ll be familiar with the kitchen on the third deck, where you and number five had an encounter with some malfunctioning goo hoses, then there are of course the kitchens available by the living quarters --”

“-- I don’t mean any of those,” Hunk interrupts. “None of those have ingredients, or real utensils, or like, a cooking...implement.”

“Well, that’s not strictly true, the goo is cooked, after all -- those implements just aren’t accessible without some structural interference. And the galley kitchens have --”

“Coran, I mean like, a place with an oven -- and not like the one Pidge and I found before.” Hunk jerks his head toward her as the green paladin continues typing. “Because I’m pretty sure that wasn’t actually a kitchen.”

“Oh, no, it wasn’t,” Coran confirms with a chuckle. “That is more accurately the smelting lounge.”

“Smelting...lounge,” Hunk repeats, blinking.

“Yes, you know, where people might go to unwind, create some vessels -- it can be very meditative.”

“I made...art?” He brightens for a moment. “You hear that, Pidge? I’m an artist!” She hums distractedly at him, still focused on the keyboard in front of her.

“I suppose you are, in a manner of speaking.” Coran clears his throat. “In any case, you’ll find the pantry kitchen much more well-appointed for creating consumables.” Before Hunk can ask what exactly a ‘pantry kitchen’ is (although he does have a pretty good guess), Pidge cuts in.

“Alright, done.” Hunk and Coran turn in unison to see Pidge still standing in front of the console. The model of the castle is spinning, various access panels lighting up, the mechanisms inside visible through the model and repositioning themselves into alignment. Pidge isn’t touching the controls.

“What’d you do, number five?”

“I just automated the process, well, mostly -- we’ll have to initiate the sequence still, because I think it’s best if one of us supervises it, or is at least aware it’s running, as a backup, but the point is we won’t have to manually enter the realignment sequences when something might be out of whack or --”

“--There’s already an automatic protocol.” Coran doesn’t sound upset, just slightly baffled.

“Ah.” Pidge looks a bit embarrassed, then her eyebrows lower. “Hey, wait a minute. If there’s already an automatic protocol, why were you making me do it manually?”

“Builds character!” Coran says jovially, holding up a finger for emphasis. “Why, if I’ve manually tuned stabilizers once, I’ve manually tuned stabilizers a thousand times, and I am brimming with character.”

“Uh...huh.”

“Ah, the old ‘this pointless task makes you a better person’ argument,” Hunk says, nostalgia creeping into his voice. “My uncle used to use that on me when it came to cleaning.”

“Cleaning isn’t exactly pointless, Hunk.” Pidge shakes her head.

“It’s just going to get dirty again! I mean I can see the purpose of cleaning dishes or machines that need it -- you’ve got rot and bugs and suboptimally operating mechanisms to worry about -- but dusting?” Coran snorts at this, then clears his throat.

“In any case, we’ll just set your protocol as a secondary option, number five --” he pulls up the translucent keyboard again “--and call it a day, eh? And I can get the keys to the pantry kitchen for number two."

“We’re still just going with that, huh.”

#voltron #hunk (voltron)#coran (voltron)#katie holt #pidge (voltron)#idk what tags people use.jpg #I am as the kids say. back on my bullshit.#a chapter doesn't have to be action and plot #a chapter can be a bunch of dorks on the bridge of a giant castle-ship #having a conversation made of tangents #scribbles

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haikyuu-and-more-haikyuu · 4 years

Text

Bellflowers

Here it is. The prompt about Sawamura as an officer. I am happy with the result and hoped I got the ‘vibe’ I wanted. I tried something new in this little, short, piece.

Please, if any of these warnings make you uncomfortable or triggers you, be careful;

WARNING: Suicide WARNING: Slightly bad coping mechanism. WARNING: Bad mental health (not graphic and only vaguely shown).

Also! Rindo means bellflower in japanese. I struggled with the name, becuse I wanted her name to have some meaning to it. I debated on calling her Himawari (sunflower) but I felt like that was used up. It's a beautiful name though. Same with Sakura. So Rin it was.

Read it on AO3

Words: 2387

Sawamura was certain the police force was his calling. It felt like the right way to go, even when he was being pulled in many directions. Sugawara pursued a degree in pedagogy to become a teacher, Asahi decided to take rest year to figure out what he actually wanted, Kiyoko started a business degree. His parents were supportive, but also pushed him to seek higher education.

He wanted to make a difference. So he enrolled in Miyagi Police Department on community safety.

One day, or more precise- once night when he was out patrolling the streets of his home town, he crossed path with a girl in distress. She was on a bridge, on wrong side of the railing. The river underneath was a few meters deep and the current was strong. While he had gotten a lot of courses on how to deal with suicidal people, all that went off in his brain was; ‘Do something, Daichi!’

And he did.

He got the girl down. He was calm and the girl grew almost hysterical. He held her tight, and dragged her away from the bridge to a more safe place. She couldn’t be more than 15 years. He alerted his team that was also patrolling, and got backup. Ambulance was called and help would arrive quickly. He talked to the girl, trying to calm her down. It worked, a little bit.

Her name was Rin, named after the bellflower.

Her parents burst through door that lead to her room, frantic and worried. The mother cried and hugged her and her dad bowed deeply to him. Thanking him for saving their daughter. The girl still cried, muttering that she was sorry over and over again like a mantra. And her parents muttered bak ‘it’s okay’ over and over again.

Somehow, the girl managed to convince the doctors that she didn’t need to be admitted or need any further help. And it looked like the parents didn’t see the need to do so too. She said that it was a one time thing. That she was just overreacting because of school and the recent boyfriend she just broke up with. Since she had no history of mental illness before; they let her go home with her parents, but with the some information pamphlets about mental health and how to seek help.

Sawamura said goodbye to the girl and prompted her to take care of herself in the near future. When their eyes met, Daichi saw something. She just looked so tired. Just tired of it all. He fought the urge to hug her. It was inappropriate and her parents had a death grip on her as they lead her out of the room.

The ride back to the station was silent. His partner didn't say much, but there wasn’t much to say. Sawamura only spoke once. “I don’t believe her, I should have said something. She needed-needs help. Help I think her parents can’t provide.” His senpai looks over at him and reached over to squeeze his shoulder. Tight and grounding, but not helping .

Four days later, when he is writing a report at his desk, his senpai walked quietly over to him. His face looked a little constipated. Normally, his senpai and partner was a cherry man, easy to get along with and he still manage to keep his authority while on the job. He had been in the force for almost ten years. From him, Daichi gets the information that the girl had hung herself in the backyard of her parents house when they weren’t home. She had already been dead for a an hour when a neighbour spotted her and called an ambulance and her parents.

She wasn’t fine, he was right.

She needed help and he was the one that could have pushed the doctors and the parents to make her get the help she needed. She deserved.

His gut grew tight and he felt like he might throw up on his desk. Hands turning cold and sweaty and shaky. Feelings so foreign to him. His partner squeezed his shoulder again and told him about every available information. The two of them might be contacted if the parents ever chose to take this further.

It goes on deaf ears as Daichi can only think about the girl he thought he saved, but really didn't do anything to help her. He might have gotten her on the right side of the railing, but he didn’t save her life.

His senpai sees that he is unwell, too unwell to work and focus. He gets sent home with the note to rest or call if he feels worse or need anything else. They handle it when he comes back, his senpai says. He gets a few nods from his co-workers, all of them been in similar situation, as sickly as that though is.

He lies in his bed and stares at his uniform, which is hung neatly on its hook on the wall. The blinds let in light from the street and it shines on his badge. The small reflection is almost blinding and all Daichi wants is to haul that badge into the toilet. Does the badge mean anything if he, as the bearer, can’t help the one person that needed him that night?

That was the first time someone ever died at his hands. It wasn’t like the news, when they would occasionally tell them that one or another bridge was being closed off because someone had jumped. Of course, those news always made him think a little. That that person could be anyone he knew, but he never dwelled on it. Almost witnessing, was entirely different.

Maybe there is a few pamphlets that will teach him how to cope with this situation too. That thought makes him laugh, but it soon turns into ugly sobs that feel like he might choke on the. He presses his face into the pillow and holds his breath. It feels like he is drowning and suffocating.

It’s hard to breathe.

After a sleepless night, he marches into his boss’ office. With the badge in his hand, he says that he will quit. What’s the point of being an officer when he can’t even help the ones that needs it the most.

His boss looks at him. He isn’t old, but his hair is starting to loose it’s black shine and wrinkles both from stress and happiness are visible in his face. He looked at Sawamura, understanding and worried.

“It’s about that girl, Sawamura-kun.” He says, clam. “I heard, I am so sorry, but sit down and we can talk.”

He does. Because as much as he just wanted to leave his badge on his boss’ desk and to bolt out of the building, he feels like he owe it to the department. Owe it to the girl that will forever be 15 years.

“I-I knew, I knew she needed professional help. I saw it in her eyes.” Sawamura starts and he only knows he is crying when he feels a salty taste at the corners of his mouth. His boss doesn't bat an eye at that and gives him a tissue. He isn’t the first to cry in this office and he won't be the last. “I had a feeling she wasn’t fine and I still let her go. And now she is dead. She was only 15 years old. I felt it in my gut that it was wrong to let her go and I still didn’t say anything.”

His boss nods and pushes a glass of water to him. He takes a small sip out of it. It’s actually pretty refreshing, and Daichi is reminded that he skipped dinner yesterday and went straight to bed. Behaviour so strange to him.

“Then why don’t you use it?” His boss breaks the silence after he let Daichi calm down.

“Huh?” Sawamura asked, swallowing a sob.

“Why don’t you use that gut feeling in the next case, and the case after that. That feeling will be your best tool in helping citizens in this city, Sawamura-kun.” His boss takes a sip from his coffee. “If you really want to quit, I won’t force you to stay; but the biggest advice I can give you is to use that feeling you are feeling now and help those who needs it the most.”

“But I failed her, and her family.”

“You gave her a second chance, Sawamura-kun, you gave her a second chance and there were people in her life that should have taken care of her and they failed to do so.” His boss tells him sternly, but still comforting in some way. The voice he uses tells Sawamura that things like this will always be a part of the job. This won't be the last suicidal victim he will cross paths with if he continues. His boss doesn’t look down on him, like Sawamura though he would do. And when he thinks about it, neither did any of his co-workers when he packed up his things to yesterday to take the rest fo the day off.

“I don’t want to quit.” He tells the older man. Because he doesn’t, he just feels awful. “I just don’t want to fail those people who need me.” His life had been pretty easy up until now. His biggest worry had been grades, volleyball practice and making plans with friends. It had been exams, taking care of his younger sisters when his parents were working late and remembering to feed their house cat. Nothing more than that. So when reality decided to punch him in the stomach, the pain was indescribable

His boss nods and moves over to squeeze his shoulders, and they are sitting on the same side of the desk. And while his boss had gotten his report and it had been sent out to the hospital, doctors and the parents; his boss lets him talk and cry and retell every detail of the day he met the girl. The girl that Sawamura only knew for a few hours.

Hearing that there is a small thread to hang by, to know that there are still things he can do to save those who deserve another chance at life- it gives him the small, silver lining of hope that he can make a difference.

He goes back to the family, to apologise and give his condolences. The family is devastated, of course, and her parents keep saying if there was only something they could have done. And all Daichi can think about is that they should have gotten her help then and there at the hospital. That their ignorance is the only reason they had to put her in a body-bag in their own backyard. But he hold his tongue. Maybe the girl was good at faking it, and managed to hide it so well form her own parents. Maybe it’s their countries norm and that their people is too busy to breathe and take care of themselves. He will never get an answer, so he doesn’t want to waste energy on being angry with others.

He buys a bouquet of bellflowers and a scented candle, and goes back to the bridge. The flowers are fresh and lush and a beautiful blue colour. It almost makes him belive that Rin’s eyes were the deep blue, but she had dark brown eyes. They were still beautiful, though.

At daytime, the traffic is heavier and he wonders if another car had pulled up before he did, had she gotten the help she needed. Would she be alive. He doesn't dwell on the thought for too long. It’s not like an answer is needed when she is already dead.

He lights the candle and places the flowers beside it. In honor and in memory for the girl that showed him that the force wasn’t all action and fulfilling moments. It’s also heartbreaking and life shattering at the same time.

The current is still as strong as the was the day he found her on the railing. The water is still as deep. But it doesn’t look as scary as it did when he found the girl. Maybe it’s just that the circumstance is different, but he feels lighter. He takes a bell flower and throws it into the water. And he has lost sight of it the second it hits the water. Kind of like he lost sight of Rin the second her parents guided her to their car.

He saves one bellflower and presses it in a book. It’s still beautiful, even after it had dried out and turned to a more pale in colour. He frames it and keeps it at his desk. Just when he does that, he notices that a lot of his other co-workers has pictures of people or places that is important to them. For him, the bellflower is simply just a beautiful flower, or it used to be. He can’t help himself, but everytime he sees a bellflower; he looks at them differently and thinks about dark eyes that were only filled with tears.

Daichi remembered that he read somewhere that tears where only love that had nowhere to go. It still feels useless to cry about Rin, because he didn't know about her existence until he met her on a damned bridge trying to take her own life. He only saw her for a few hours that night and now he will never see her.

And it got him thinking, that maybe Rin didn’t cry because Daichi found her and contacted medical help. And that she didn't cry because her parents found out. Maybe she was crying because she didn't know to give herself the love she deserved.

His boss had asked him if he wanted new areas to pattroll, but he had declined. Thinking that he just needs to get used to the thought of Rin, the bridge and her death. It’s more than a part of his job, it’s part of his life now.

The badge is pinned back on his uniform and his eyes are dry. And while the girl died, she will be known for person that made Sawamura make the decision to keep building,

...to keep working for something greater than himself.

#sawamura #sawamura daichi #officer daichi #suicide #mental health #fanfic #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #HQ

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