#they let me make cool mechanics and build-arounds for those mechanics

[dravidious]

You're the most amazing

creature!

I also filled the other 5 color pairs with various frogs

[yuzukult]

crush 03 | jww & oc/reader

title: crush 03 / part of the attacca series pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader/oc (ft. seokmin) rating: 16+ (mentions of sex, but no act of sex) genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut, racecar driver!au, mechanic!au wc: 7.4k summary: all he knows are fast rides, drag-strips, and speed ovals until he meets you, someone that’s got his heart racing instead of his car. warnings: explicit language, smoking, suggestive content (but nothing follows through), mentions of sex a/n: sorry i actually finished this weeks ago but forgot to post it.. embarrassinng frfr

This place looks… a bit shady.

The address Wonwoo sends you doesn’t show a brief description on Google Maps as it normally does, and it’s missing a preview picture of what the location is supposed to look like. When you pull up into the driveway, the asphalt fades into a dusted dirt road with cars of all ages, models, and manufacturers that line up against the fencing before you notice a building with an open garage on the opposite side.

That’s where you spot Wonwoo, crouched over in a white tank and torn up black jeans with a soiled rag over his shoulder. The driver’s window of an old Chevy is down, and Wonwoo has his forearms resting against the panel, casually conversing to the operator of the vehicle. He’s… got nice arms. But that’s besides the point.

He taps against the door. “Tell me when you need me to take another look at the ventilator. Should be workin’ this time around, but if not, Imma have to advise you to get ‘nother car.”

At first, you didn’t get to make out the facial features of who was inside. The reflection of the beaming sunlight hitting the front windshield made it arduous to identify the driver, but when she peeks her head out just barely, you could pinpoint the owner of those pearly white teeth anywhere. It’s the cute flag girl that Seokmin took home that one day.

“Why? When I could just keep coming back to you instead?” 

But in lieu of reacting decrepitly to those pretty lashes that brush against her cherry tinted cheekbones like Seokmin does, Wonwoo is a major contrast when he slaps the top of the car with a charming smile. “Sweet, but it’s better to see your mechanic less and not more. Head home now, and only call if something happens to your car.”

With a failed sigh and pout, she waves goodbye to Wonwoo who watches as her car takes off.

Although when his eyes lands on you and your shitty ass Toyota, a show stopping grin tugs on the corners of his mouth. Wonwoo gestures for you to come to where the flag girl was earlier, and part of you feels a bit… special from the way he looks at her then at you. He seems happier, excited, even. 

Why couldn’t Seokmin look at you in that way?

Hopping out of the car, you puff your cheeks. “When I said I’d let you take me on a date, I didn’t think it would be here at your shop.”

“I know girls like you,” he begins, crossing his arms before leaning against the doorframe of the garage. Raising a brow, you’re not sure where he’s going with that, but you remain silent to let him continue. “You probably get asked out often and have the most boring dates. What’s the last date you've been on?”

That required some thinking. Maybe it was that guy you met on Tinder and took you out for a candlelit steak dinner. Or even that one dude who took you to that art gallery.

You don’t respond though because Wonwoo seemed to have wanted to guess himself. 

“Steak? Dim lighting, candles, maybe? Museums? How about even a walk by the river or waterfront, letting the cool breeze hit your face? Bet he tried to get into your pants after, which was why you didn’t call him back.”

That last one got you. You’ve been on that one before too, and had the same scenario happen. “What are you getting at here?”

He leans over to open your door wider, and you step aside. Reaching to pull the tab that pops the hood of your trunk, it only confuses you more on what he’s going to do next. “Well, I wanna be memorable, not some guy you went out with. Imma teach you how to change a flat.”

“I don’t have a flat.”

“Make believe, doll,” he chuckles, slamming your door shut. He walks to the back of your, pushing the trunk up, and his eyes skim the contents of the back. That term of endearment from Wonwoo is a new one, and for some reason, if it came from someone else, you’d be disgusted. But from him? It’s… kind of alluring? “Why you got so much junk in here?”

You flinch, immediately rushing to his side when the memory of what’s in your car comes to mind. “Oh shit, I—”

“Emergency one night stand kit?” He quirks a brow, lifting up a little tote back with the words woven into the canvas fabric. “You don’t look like the type.”

“It was a gift!” you exclaim, heat rushing to your cheeks as you snatch it back from him. “The contents inside don't match what the writing insists the purpose is for, I promise. I don’t do one night stands.”

“I know.” Wonwoo watches you in amusement, adoration swirling in his pools of chocolates he calls eyes. “You're one of those hopeless romantics. It’s taking a lot for you to even come on this date with me.”

You roll your lips in response, avoiding his loving gaze as you shuffle the stuff to make way for the lid of the compartment at the bottom of trunk. “How would you know that?”

“Because I see the way you look at Dokyeom, and it’s kind of the way that I look at you.” You choke on your saliva. Were you really that open of a book? Surely, it was true, but you didn’t think you were that obvious.

Dokyeom. It’s weird how Seokmin is your supposed best friend and yet there was so much about him you didn’t know. There was something underlying that he was hiding, and you want to dig deeper. Who was Dokyeom as this version of himself that he never once shared before? 

You clear your throat, warmth rushing to your cheeks. Wonwoo is rather bold. “Um, so… are you gonna teach me how to change my tire or what?”

Wonwoo knows he caught you in that moment, but he doesn’t pry for more. “Aight, well roll up your sleeves and let’s get our hands dirty, love.”

He shows you the compartment to find the spare and tools, the latch that you’ve always looked over is the one he pulls to expose another layer of your car. Was that what it was for? You sort of just threw your shit on top of it and hoped for the best. 

“Here, you’ll find your spare tire. I highly recommend that you don’t just ride it forever just cause you got it on. It’s a spare, it’s temporary. Don’t ever use it for long, it’s not meant for it.”

There’s a long, metal tool he brings out that resembles a cross. “This is a wrench,” then he grabs an unfamiliar mechanism in the shape of a diamond with a flat top, “the jack,” and finally, he points to the tire that peeks out just barely. “Lastly, the tire. Kinda heavy, but I can help you—”

“I got it,” you state daringly, shoving him to the side. 

He chuckles at your boldness with that look of veneration on his face like you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. “Okay, well, grab that—” Wonwoo gestures at the tire, watching carefully to make sure you don’t hurt yourself, “and just… lay it on the ground. And we’re gonna put the jack under the car.”

Oddly enough, Seokmin never really wanted to teach you how to change a tire. You’ve mentioned it to him once before—you found yourself on the side of the road on a highway, phone up to your ear as you frantically called your best friend to be your knight in shining armor. 

And when he arrived twenty minutes after your cry for help, he slammed the car door behind him with that smug look on his face as he said, “You rang?” 

But that was when he was more reliable.

These days, your calls are missed and you rarely see him as often as you used to. He’s so caught up in his new life, his career, and all the girls that you’ve only become a sliver of importance to him.

Somehow, you end up with a smear mark on your cheek from moving all the equipment around. Wonwoo thinks you’re cute like this; admittingly, you were just a girl he found attractive with an amusing attitude. But that night. That night the two of you exchanged numbers—it was the first time he ever met someone that tugged on his heartstrings in this way. How’d he get looped into talking to a girl over text for hours?

“Like this?” You query, looking up at him from below. The tire lock is fastened onto the lug nut of your rims with a socket wrench in your hand. “So, I just…”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo leans over, hand on yours as he shoves the head of the tire iron to fasten against the lock. “Then you just…” he drifts off, and instead of pushing you aside to do it himself as Seokmin would’ve, he guides you with his movements. Thrusting his weight and yours against the wrench, he turns it multiple times before the first one releases and drops onto the floor with a clank. “The first one is always hard because it’s anti-theft, but the other ones are a bit easier. If you can’t get it out, just… put your hands on the hood of the car and jump on it. Wanna finish it off?”

Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.

Getting the lug nuts off was easier than you thought (were they on tight enough to begin with?) The tire tilts over to you, and you’re quick to catch it and set it aside. Wonwoo rolls the spare in your direction, watching as you puff your cheeks with a layer of sweat on your skin. You don’t seem bothered, despite the droplets that stream down the side of your neck, and he sort of expected you to confront him about this being a first date. Who takes a girl to learn how to change a flat for a first date?

Not many guys, that’s for sure.

With Wonwoo, he doesn’t act like a savior. When you’re struggling with pulling the tire off, he doesn’t come in and take over—he asks if you’d want his help, and when you’d reply with ‘no,’ he stays put. 

“Okay, next, you should put the spare where you took off the flat. Then secure it with the nuts, and put the car down with the jack. You should be good to go after you use the wrench to tighten it some more.”

“Hold this for me,” you drop the wrench in his palms and he’s fast in abiding. Aligning the spare tire to the bolts, you mount them by tightening the lug nuts into their initial spots by hand. Finally, stepping back, you lower the vehicle with the jack as he advises, snatching the tool back as he snickers at how focused you’ve become. 

You use all your strength—practically the entirety of your weight impeling into the wrench to secure the bolts in place. With a puff of exhausted air, you shove it back into Wonwoo’s hold. “Okay, done. Check it.”

He eyes you impishly, making his way to the spare that you proudly installed yourself, casually popping the head of the wrench to fit the lugs without much difficulty. Wonwoo does it with ease; everything happens so fluidly, from the way he checks the tightening of the lugs to the kick of the tire to see if it would slip out in any way. Your breath gets caught in your throat, a bit anxious of the results, but when he turns to you with a soft smile, your chest releases the tension.

“Wow, impressive for the first try. You sure you’ve never changed a flat before?”

“Promise,” you cheekily grin back. He’s sort of… cute. He reminds you of those flakey croissant pastries, expectant on the outside that the dish you pair with a cup of coffee would be just buttery. But taking in a bite, the strawberry jam spews from the insides, the fruit preserves leaving a candied taste on the tip of your tongue.

This was just part of the date, you soon learn, because after Wonwoo helps you wash your hands in the sink in his garage, he leads you behind the building where a field of green lies. 

His auto shop was located on the borderlines of the city and the suburbs—just a couple blocks over, if you took a step to the left, you would’ve been on the outskirts of the city lines but one move to the right, you’ll find yourself in the heart of the crowd of skyscrapers. Farther back of the property, the dusty road fades into a green field (well, sorta. It’s got patches, definitely needs some TLC, but you digress), and although it’s not the prettiest with scattered pieces of car junk across the lawn, his setup that he has displayed makes it… cute. He’s got this red and white checkered blanket that lays on the grass, boxes of screws on either corners and a hammer thrown at the other. 

You glance over at Wonwoo.

He’s quick to shove it off the blanket, dropping the wicker basket where the hammer once was. 

“Were you premeditating a murder?”

“If the night doesn’t go well, maybe,” he jokes. “I’m kidding, I had a feeling it was gonna get windy and I didn’t want the two of us spending half the day trying to get the thing to stay still. I did it myself before you came.”

He’s kinda cute.

“I couldn’t dress as nicely, I realized I don’t think I own any pairs of pants without a grease stain on it,” Wonwoo admits apologetically, plopping down on the blanket in his raw hemmed black jeans and the short sleeve button up that he doesn’t bother actually buttoning up. Part of you is tempted to ask him if he bought those jeans like that or if he cut it himself (you think it’s the latter). 

Seokmin always had a thing about his appearance. The cleaner and slicker you seem, the more name brands that decorate your clothing, and the type of vehicle you drive says a lot about you. 

But to Wonwoo, it’s clear that those things don’t matter. 

He’s not rich in terms of the money stashed in his pockets or the digits in his bank account, but his wealth resides within his personality and knowledge. As you slice off a piece of cheese to pair with your cracker and prosciutto off a charcuterie board he attempted to make (you give him props for this as he humbly mentions he gives all the credit to those moms on forum websites posting their recipes), you learn more as to why Wonwoo never went to college—both willingly and unwillingly. And yet, he harbors so much wisdom in terms of cars and racing, earning all your respect that he chose a non-traditional route and remains successful.

You recall that night over the phone how he wished he could go to college, but he doesn’t have the means to. Wonwoo dropped out of high school during his senior year, just months before graduating, and although he didn’t fully explain why, the admiration in your gaze when he mentions he’d gotten his GED several months ago is evident. 

Wonwoo isn’t what you’re used to; growing up, it was established that you were to meet a man with a bachelor’s degree, and the bonus is if he obtains a master’s. When your hands are stained, whether it be grease from the stove, oil from a car, flour from dough, or paint off a canvas, it’s recognized as a labor intensive job and the more physical work you do, the less intelligent you are.

This was not the case. 

Admittingly, he doesn’t know anything about kinematics or conservation of energy, but he knows what to do when your carburetor is failing or if your water pump leaks. Analyzing the works of Shakespeare or reading a novel without dozing off wasn’t quite his forte, but he’s better in other fields and there’s so much admiration for that. “I like jobs that give back to society,” he said that night, and it gifts you the perspective that there is more to the world beyond being employed at a corporate company. Wonwoo sets a different standard for you, but even on a sweet date like this where he’s pouring a glass of moscato for you as you watch the sun setting in the horizon… you can’t help but let your thoughts flood with Seokmin once again. 

When Wonwoo’s eyes curl into moon crescents with a laugh so buttery and deep, you discern a lot more clearly how much Seokmin has a hold on you. A great guy sits before you and you can’t get your head unwrapped from Lee Seokmin.

“When’d you get into racing?” You ask, deciding that maybe if you get to know him better, you’d stop thinking about the guy who’d rather be at a rooftop bar downtown with a girl he just met fifteen minutes ago. “I’ve never seen you at any of the tournaments.”

“Mmm,” he hums, brushing his hands off each other from the crumbs. “About a month before that cup. One of the sponsors of the stadium saw me racin’ on the streets a couple months ago. Once he found my name, he got me a competitor’s license and forced me on the track. Said somethin’ like he’d help me pay for everything, including two months of mortgage on my shop.” Wonwoo shrugs, reaching over to grab another cracker from the bag. “Two months is a lot. Plus, if he’s paying for everything else and all I needed was a crew, not a big deal. It’s really just a money game.”

You purse your lips. “Any reason for him to want you to race?”

“It’s probably gettin’ boring watching Dokyeom win all the time.”

Oh. You never really thought of it like that. “But he won the circuit,” you clarify. “I don’t get it.”

He grabs a handful of the crackers and lays it across the wooden board for you, adjusting himself on the picnic blanket as he tilts his head to the side. “Yea, but I also came in second with milliseconds on the clock. Not to mention that this is the first of the series–I think they just want somethin’ new to the competition ‘cause there hasn’t been any fresh meat lately. Or, if there are any, they ‘un really last.”

You quirk a brow. “You’re not fresh meat–you raced on the streets.”

Wonwoo winks playfully. “You know that, but they don’t.”

There’s a lot to unpack–the recruiting of Wonwoo into an industry that he didn’t really see himself in, only to be lured to race with a bribe because it was getting boring to watch Seokmin win so frequently? You have a never ending list of questions, ones that Wonwoo couldn’t necessarily answer, but one you were suspicious enough to keep digging. But when Wonwoo lifts the honey dipper made of turned wood to collect the honey from the jar and onto your chunk of cheese, he says one last thing that erases all your curiosity.

“Dokyeom almost got a monopoly on stock car racing. No new consistent racers in the past two years entering this category, instead they’re headin’ off to Formula 1 or drag. They’re losing all potential new money ‘cause there’s nobody that can match his potential. Thinkin’ that the guy just wanted me there to get the ball rollin, let people know that it’s not impossible to beat the Lee Seokmin.”

Popping the piece of parmesan into your mouth, you roll your lips. “Well, you didn’t beat him either,” you tease, and he rolls his eyes with a smile tugging on the edges of his lips. He’s got the same sense of humor as you do, and he makes it a little hard not to get enticed by his charms. “So what of it?”

“I didn’t have to beat him, I just had to get close enough,” he grins. “Why? Are you not impressed that I didn’t beat him?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Mm,” he nods slowly while feigning a frown. “Damn. Should’ve told me earlier, maybe I would’ve actually tried beating him then.”

How did this conversation end up looping right back into Seokmin when you asked to distract yourself from him?

“Do… Do you even like racing, Wonwoo?”

“Honestly?” he glances over at you before looking back at the sunset. The hues of warmth that radiate the ordinary star is a pretty sight as it shines on his face, and it’s evident why he’s enamored by many. “No. I like cars, and I love the speed, but I prefer being under the hood than behind the wheel. Knowing how the gears turn and what’s the reason for the black smoke and why your car stutters is more appealing to me than burning rubber on asphalt.”

“Hm,” you hum, remaining silent to bask in the fresh air. You say it often, but Wonwoo is…different. He indulges in the present moments in life; he doesn’t dwell on the past, in fact, he embraces it and learns from it. The type of person that travels with a loose agenda, a couple locations and hot spots in mind to touch, but never abiding by what’s written as if it’s set in stone. 

He’s carefree. Flowing like linens hanging dry on the clothesline on a warm, breezy day.

“And what about you?” he asks, those chocolate swirling orbs just full of adoration and interest. Wonwoo looks at you in a way that you could only dream for Seokmin to do the same, but he’s slowly easing you into the idea of it being someone else. “Do you like cars? Racing?”

“Have you seen my car?” you laugh, quirking a brow. “To me, a car is just something that takes you from point A to point B. Otherwise, it means nothing to me.”

“Funny, isn’t it?”

“What is?” Tilting your head to the side, it’s your turn to gaze at him with intrigue. 

“You just… see cars differently than I do,” he says with a soft smile. “It’s not bad, but it holds so many meanings for me, left core memories, and for you, you blatantly say that it’s a means of transportation.”

You feel bad for saying it like that but… it is just a car.

“It may seem like just a car,” he begins, and you think for a second that he reads your mind. “But every meaningful moment in my life had a car involved in it.”

Maybe Wonwoo has a point—it’s like how some people just view a croissant as just a flaky pastry you could have with coffee in the mornings or tea in the afternoons. But others, the aroma of freshly baked croissants imbues the kitchen, creating a wave of nostalgia sweeping over them. The residual butter left on their fingertips when they tear into the crisp, crescent shaped pastry is a sign that it’s been made with the utmost love, just as their elder relatives baked it.

“Do you have something like that?” It’s… a good question. Truthfully, you’ve never thought about that before, and maybe it’s from the way you live your life, but you’ve hardly stopped and just immersed yourself within a moment. “I… I don’t think I do. I’ve been so caught up in preparing for what’s next that it’s never crossed my mind.”

“Well,” he begins, taking a bite from a cracker. “Let that be something you figure out before the next time we meet.”

You quirk a brow in amusement. “You’re already thinking about another date?”

“Aren’t you?” He mimics your expression. “I thought you’re always thinking one step again. Unless, you don’t view me in that way and decide that there wouldn’t be a next time?”

There is definitely a next time. 

Actually, there ends up being a lot of “next times.”

In fact, meeting with Wonwoo has become a routine. 

There’s excitement that runs through your veins, similar to the adrenaline rush that Seokmin raves on about when he races, except this is simply because of your eagerness to see Wonwoo after work. Once the clock strikes five, your bag is already slung over your shoulder with the door shut behind you.

Some nights, you find yourself drowning in projects with deadlines, stuck in the four walls of your office that feel like they’re closing in. It’s suffocating—spending more than the required eight hours in what feels like an enclosed space, wishing that you could be anywhere else but there.

That is, until you and Wonwoo grew closer.

You never thought of yourself as someone who would find comfort in the sound of tools clanging against each other or on the concrete ground. Wonwoo likes to blast a mixtape he made back in high school—which basically was just a list of songs that you’d know the lyrics to because you used to have it on full volume with your whole emo getup back in your rebellious and angsty teenage years.

When you started to spend more time in his shop, he made a note to build a make-shift desk for you–yes, it was basically a tool cart with a long piece of a wood plank, but with the wheels locked, a swivel chair he used to run reports at his shitty computer (that was also on another tool cart) and a lamp he bought from Walmart (it has a pink base, he thought you’d like that), it felt welcoming. After a long day at the office with work still not done, this change of scenery is nice, especially since Wonwoo makes it crystal clear that he wants your company.

Some days are more uneventful than others, but nonetheless, they’re nice. You liked the calmness–there was something soothing about that roar of the engine when Wonwoo would lean into the open window to turn the key in the ignition for a test run.

Today, though, falls a bit outside of that placid routine.

You drop by, mostly because you’re bored and you don’t want to be alone in your apartment, plus it’s almost guaranteed that Wonwoo would be at the car shop (well, also because his place is literally… connected to it. You opened the wrong door trying to find the bathroom once, only to see this huge backroom that looked like a loft. Wonwoo loves work so much that he lives in it).

As you enter the garage, eyes glued to the screen of your phone, your car keys dangle from your fingers as you’re tapping away. “Do you wanna order dinner? I heard there’s this Chinese place a couple blocks down–they deliver so we can just call–”

“Ehem,” Wonwoo clears his throat, arms crossed over his chest. Attention now on him, that’s when you notice the other four men in the shop, casually sitting on the couch, leaning on a car, and standing beside Wonwoo. “Um, so these are my friends.”

Friends. Wonwoo introduces you to them; Mingyu, Minghao, Seungcheol and Vernon are their names, and from what you recall, they seem to have been the same guys that were on his crew back at the track. They’re all car guys, you learn, knowing Wonwoo from way back and it makes you wonder if they knew Seokmin–or well, Dokyeom–at the time but you don’t probe for more. If Seokmin wants to remain mysterious, then he can stay that way.

“So,” Mingyu, who is definitely over 6-feet tall, begins cheekily, pushing himself off the car. “Are you the reason why Wonwoo won’t come out with us to drink? We’ve been asking him for the past month to come out and he keeps giving us bullshit excuses.”

You blink blankly. Was… Wonwoo turning them down to see you?

“I’m sorry,” you turn to stare at Wonwoo for a brief moment before turning back to Mingyu. “Was… Was he doing that? I didn’t even know.”

“He must like you,” Seungcheol chimes in, snickering as Wonwoo smacks Seungcheol’s chest with the back of his hand. “What! I’m just sayin’. You never reject us. Except for that one time your mom came into town, but other than that, you’re basically always comin’ with us. Did a surprise drop by… lo’ and behold. Jeon here's got a girlie.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes as he twists around to snatch a carton of cigarettes off the shelf of his supplies. “You came for the cigs, bro. Stop saying shit. You’re gon’ scare her.”

“Ohhhh,” Minghao chimes in teasingly. “So you care about what she thinks of you–thinks of us. That’s cute,” he hops up from the couch before coming over to you. “If Jeon gives you a hard time…” with a wink, he then gestures to the other boys to follow. “Just lemme know. Or any of them. We’ll be back around, so we’ll catch you later. Nice to meet you, cutie.”

When they leave, you’re left alone with Wonwoo once again.

“Am I holding you back?”

Wonwoo stares at you blankly with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the red tool cart roller. “Holding me back from what?”

You shrug, putting down your phone onto the make-shift coffee table (it’s just a creeper parked on a cardboard box). “I don’t know. They made it seem that way—I mean, we’re not really dating, so I feel bad if I’m… holding you back from anything. You should see your friends—whether or not we are together.”

“I can make that decision for myself,” Wonwoo shoots back, pushing himself up as he makes his way to the car in the garage. “They’ll see me around, not a big deal. And yeah, I’m down for Chinese. You tryna get me the vegetable lo mein?”

You eye him carefully. The thing with Wonwoo versus Seokmin is that he says it straight up—no hesitation, no crazy maze where you need to probe for clues to reach the end, and he doesn’t expect you to figure him out in a heartbeat. Wonwoo inspects your actions, and if you give it away that you don’t understand, he’s transparent with how he answers.

Wonwoo doesn’t feel like the game of cat and mouse.

“Do you want to share sweet and sour chicken and maybe some wings?”

“Of course. And make sure they have Coca Cola—not Pepsi.”

When you’re both sitting on his secondhand couch of the garage, utilizing one of the ULINE tool cabinets as a more sturdy table, there’s boxes of Chinese food that’s sprinkled all across. His carton of lo mein is now empty, remnants of the grease left on the sides with bits of bean sprouts too small to grab with his chopsticks and the bones of the chicken wings are left on those crappy napkins that you’d find in fast food joints and coffee shops, saturated in the oils and probably leaving marks on the cart. Wonwoo eats fast but he always stays seated until you finish your meal despite being done his.

He used to keep his garage cold, the overhead rolling door made of metal and not including much insulation from the weather outside, but ever since you’ve kept him company more frequently, he’s installed some ceiling mounted unit heater to keep the area warm. The humming of the machine is what breaks the silence between the two of you, but Wonwoo doesn’t fail to bring it up, nonetheless.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, brows furrowed in confusion. “You usually are babbling about your day right about now. Didn’t you and Sunny go shopping yesterday? She didn’t spill any gossip?”

You roll your lips. Are you normally that talkative around him? And if so, are you really that comfortable?

“Um, yeah, we did,” you begin, placing down your carton of rice. “And sorta. Not really. Mostly complained about work.”

He makes a sound by sucking in his teeth before sitting up to rest his elbows on his knees. “Alright, what’s up? Tell me.”

Normally, you’d just… tell the other person to let it go. Even with Seokmin, when he pries, you’re quick on your feet to tell him to ‘not worry about it’ and that ‘this unreasonable feeling will pass eventually.’

But Wonwoo is great at breaking barriers that you never thought you’d do.

Placing down your chopsticks, you let out a sigh along with the drop of your shoulders. “Okay, okay. I just feel bad. We’re not official—and that’s entirely on me, and I really do enjoy spending time with you—whatever this may be—but I also don’t want to be the one to hold you back on things like going out with your friends, meeting other girls, or just… I don’t know. Seeing those guys just made me think of that. I know that you might like me and—”

“Mm, hush.”

You blink blankly.

“Listen,” Wonwoo begins, hands together stiffly in semblance to this situation. “That’s on me too, right? I don’t think you’re leading me on, in fact, I think you’re establishing boundaries—like you are now. I went on a date with you, and it didn’t work. So be it. But—let’s make this clear, we are friends. I’m good with you coming over here whenever you want. And yea, I do like you. You gimme a lot of reasons to, but that don’t mean we can’t be friends. And if it makes you feel any better, I do hang with ‘em, they’re just bein’ dramatic because I spend my weekdays with you the most.”

“Oh,” you reply doltishly. “I didn’t think of it like that.”

“Well, start,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Look, I know that you and Seokmin have these unspoken feelings and I’d rather you resolve them if you decide to take anything further. I’m cool with just chillin’ as friends, and we’re not doing anything wrong by it. I just may be a lil’ sweeter for you is all, only cause I got a crush. But my feelings aren’t hurt by it.”

This is… different.

Although you constantly say that Seokmin and Wonwoo are opposites (well, duh, they’re not the same person), it’s almost become repetitive and annoying how frequent you come to these “realizations.” Wonwoo has evidently seen a lot in his life, endured a lot, and due to that, he’s… emotionally mature. 

As for Seokmin—well, need you say more?

Somehow, the end of the evening isn’t awkward. He makes you laugh with a story about how a client came over, exclaiming on the top of their lungs how the backseat wouldn’t prop itself up, only for Wonwoo to find the seat belt covering the opening that holds it up. Although it was very tempting to smack a $300 invoice to his customer, he chose the better route of just telling them upfront what the issue was.

Although he’s understanding, prioritizing the friendship he’s created with you, he doesn’t make it hard to consider him as more than a friend.

“Well, you look giddy.”

“Hmm?” You respond dumbly, looking up from your phone full of texts. Wonwoo ended up feeling bad that his friends thought he’d been neglecting them, so he agreed to go to a bar tonight with them and maybe hit a club afterwards–but that doesn’t stop him from constantly messaging you. “Me? Or Sunny?”

P flicks your hand. “You, you idiot.”

“Oh.”

Sunny snorts in amusement, placing another strip of meat onto the grill. It sizzles from the impact of heat and the fat content of the beef, steam filling the air for a brief second before the ventilator sucks it up. “You didn’t tell us about that date with Wonwoo. You dodged all the texts in our group chat.”

You shrug, grabbing the spare tongs to help Sunny add more meat onto the grate. “Um, because it’s kind of weird.”

P raises a brow. “And how is it weird? Was he strange?”

Sunny’s attention is off of cooking now, diverting toward you. “OMG. Did we make you go on a date with a weirdo?”

You glance over at the two. “Wait-what?” Pretending to resume to the grill, you poke a couple of the raw pieces that lay across with another set of tongs. “No, no. He… He’s honestly great. I haven’t felt that connection with someone in a while–he taught me how to install a spare tire–”

P blinks blankly. “He taught you how to change your spare? What kind of date is that?”

And for a moment, a wash of judgment appears across Sunny’s face but it softens when she finally realizes. “... Because you told him that Seokmin promised to come and “save the day,” didn’t you? Then Wonwoo probably thought for a first date idea… teaching you how to change a spare…”

Then it clicks for P; her shoulders loosen and fall when she’s aware of the meaning behind the date. “He… didn’t want you to depend on Seokmin anymore.”

Sunny frowns, flipping over the meat on the grill. “If that’s the reason… Why’s that weird? Sounds sweet. If anything, I kinda give him props for that. Did he at least take you out to dinner?”

You chew on your bottom lip. “Well, he made a whole picnic basket.”

Both Sunny and P glare at you. “And what’s wrong with that?”

“He’s… not Seokmin.”

Gross. It sounds pathetic leaving from your mouth.

The looks that Sunny and P give you are full of pity. How could you be so weak for a guy that doesn’t even respect you enough to hide when he has flings? Someone who claims that they’re yours, but they spent most of their time pursuing anyone but you. It’s a constant recurring thought, and the reminders are always smacking you in the face and yet, you’re here, sitting in front of your two best friends after going on a date with someone who could potentially give you the world and more yet Seokmin still remains on your mind.

“Listen,” P begins, placing down her chopsticks by the side of her plate. Sunny clears off the grill and lowers the fire, mimicking P’s actions with her tongs. “Sunny and I talked about this, and we realized that yes, although we really don’t support this unrequited love between you and Seokmin, it’s still your life and your choices to make. We want you to know that we’re by your side, and behind you through it all, even if you end up with Seokmin, but we’ll say this one last time.”

“We think you should move on, love.” 

Your phone lights up beside you, Wonwoo’s name on display with the preview of his text. He asks if you like mint chocolate, a debate that he and his friends have had since God knows when, and it may determine if he wants to keep chasing you. When you unlock the phone, Seokmin’s chat is pinned to the top with your message being the most recent and sent two days ago. He just… disregarded the picture you shared of the two of you in college, his arm over your shoulders with smiles stretched across your faces.

“It’s… It’s hard,” you admit, and this time, it feels like the weight on your chest releases. “I think… I’d already had this idea that he and I would end up together engraved in my brain that I can’t seem to let go.”

“Well, how about this? You at least keep giving Wonwoo a shot if he does make you happy or if you’re even remotely interested. He seems sweet, and he also seems to know where you stand with Seokmin, which makes it easier to not have to explain to him the situation.”

You roll your lips. “I–Okay.”

Just then, your screen lights up again. Speaking of the Devil.

Wonwoo [11:54PM]: You can hold off on that political question for later. Since you’re still awake… my other friends wanna meet you. Wanna come out and grab a bite w us?

Quickly, you show your phone to the girls.

“Fuck yeah, tell them to come here,” P nearly shouts, and you hush her. “Forreal, give Wonwoo the address. We’ll get more chairs–switch tables if we gotta. I’m tryna see him in person.”

Sunny starts touching up on her makeup in her compatible mirror. “Get them to come! It shouldn’t be too far from where they are, right?”

It wasn’t.

In fact, Wonwoo and his friends were a couple blocks down–when you sent him the text of where you and your friends are, he eagerly sent a screenshot of Google Maps to show how close he was. 

When they walk into the BBQ joint, it’s very hard to miss them. For one, you spot familiar faces—Mingyu, Minghao, Seungcheol and Vernon from the shop, followed by three other guys you never met personally before, but you remember them from Wonwoo’s pit before the tournament. It makes you wonder—did he just hire all his friends to be his pit crew members? And if he did, that’s… impressive. You don’t think you could name any of Seokmin’s friends that would spend their Saturday rushing to change his tires—not to mention that they probably aren’t even trained to do it.

Then, you spot Wonwoo. He pushes through the group, shuffling to see where you are, and when your eyes meet, his smile doesn’t fail to stretch across from ear to ear. 

“Hey,” he says breathily, probably from all the shoving. “It’s… Good to see you. Kinda thought you were avoiding me after the mint chocolate question. It can be a touchy subject for some people.”

You let out a laugh; it’s so genuine and warm when it releases from your chest that it causes both P and Sunny to raise a brow at you before glancing at each other.

You’re different around him.

It’s so clear to both your best friends why Wonwoo is the choice you should make, and you’re displaying it right now. The comfortable body language, the laugh, and how you introduce them to him without any nerves. He’s so sweet when he offers to cook (only for one of his other friends to snatch the tongs from him with a hiss to take over, it’s still the thought and attempt that counts).

Wonwoo takes the seat next to you. Of course he does, he likes you, but there’s something inside of you that has trouble with swallowing that information. And truthfully? It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy his company or want to reject his feelings—if anything, you’ve caught yourself imagining the what-ifs. 

Then, Seokmin’s face shows up in those fantasies.

It’s a reminder of why you need a remedy for your lovesick symptoms, mostly because if a guy like Wonwoo is here with his rowdy friends, unable to keep his eyes that are full of adoration for you, then why would you waste your time with someone else right here?

You could… You could see yourself falling for Wonwoo. It’ll take time, that’s for sure, but you don’t think it’s impossible.

“How do you like your steak?” He asks, tongs in hand as he turns his head away from the grill to look at you. “Medium? Fully cooked?”

“Medium rare,” you answer, and Wonwoo serves you first before kindly asking the same question to your friends. P and Sunny are impressed, rolling their lips to suppress their giggles and teasing, wiggling their brows in your direction. 

“So,” P begins, putting down her chopsticks. “We heard you’re a racecar driver.”

He chuckles, rubbing his nape awkwardly. “I–I wouldn’t necessarily say that. Was a temp thing.”

Seungcheol nudges Wonwoo. “Don’t act all humble. It’s aight to say it, you’re a racecar driver now. You got to compete with Kyeomie, I’d say you deserve the title.” He winks teasingly, but you know he says it to give Wonwoo the push he needs. Seungcheol naturally leads their group of friends; you’ve seen him gesture to Mingyu to grab the tongs and start cooking when he sees plates empty, tell Minghao to ask the server for more drinks when the liquid in the glasses get low, and even just now, when he encourages Wonwoo to be a little bolder. Wonwoo’s pit crew wasn’t just his “pit crew”... they’re his friends. You admire that.

The night runs smoothly. P and Sunny are so impressed and smitten with Wonwoo, constantly encouraging you to make moves on him. Quite frankly, you even… forgot about Seokmin for a moment.

That is, until your eye catches him entering the restaurant.

← last chapter | next chapter →

[andypantsx3]

do you have any tips or advice for being more confident about your writing / avoiding the comparison trap on here? /gen

Hello my love!! Oh my gosh, I have a zillion and one thoughts on this subject. Please excuse how disorganized this is but I am so happy to word vom at you lmao.

I think to start with, it depends on what you're comparing: whether it's the work itself or the metrics surrounding it! I will start with the work itself, and move on to talking about metrics if that's cool.

Your Story

In terms of the quality of your work, there are a couple key things to remember!! Firstly, think it's easy to feel like so many tropes and story lines have already been done, why would anyone want to read mine? But you can circumvent this quite intentionally in your writing by thinking about what new thing you can bring to that trope or story line. And make no mistake, there is always something new, whether it's a plot twist, a unique motivator, a different character's perspective, etc.

For example, I've read and loved several merman Shouto fics, and I also wanted to write a merman Shouto fic. In the development of something in the water, I sat down and thought about what things I'd read about merman Shouto before, and how could I add to that, outside of rehashing what I'd already read. I discovered I wanted to expand on mating rituals, spend some time on the cultural differences a human and merman would inevitably have, and linger in the feeling of a tropical island because at the time of the fic's conception it was like, the dead of my winter LOL. And I do think that something in the water has turned out pretty distinct for that effort; as far as I am aware no one has written merman Shouto being wheeled into a tropical bungalow in a wheelbarrow to watch The Little Mermaid lol.

So you can always bring something new to the table! And it will make your work feel standout to you, as well, as you will be very aware of all the things you did that were unique!! You will not feel like you're just rehashing something that has already been done, you will feel like you're adding!

Also in terms of quality, I think it's helpful to look at fic writing like a growth opportunity rather than a permanent, established skill set. The "quality" of your style is not fixed, it something you actively develop by reading, digging into other people's styles, seeing how they make their writing work, and trying out some of those elements for yourself. Maybe someone has a really rich descriptive style that you find beautiful, maybe someone writes dark psychological fics that thrill you; if you spend time looking at the words they are using and how they use them, you can replicate those techniques in your own writing. You can quite literally make your own writing look more like the writing you admire by reverse engineering authors' techniques.

Conversely, writing as a growth opportunity mean you do not have to be perfect. The process of writing is the process of figuring out what works, mechanically. It's not a reflection on you at all. You don't have to write anything "good," you can publish something you had fun with, see what people react positively to in it, and turn around and take those elements forward in your next story, while abandoning the things people maybe did not love or had questions on. And rinse and repeat over and over until you do end up with something you'd term "quality."

To me at least, that thought is a huge relief. Because I can just have fun, let people say what they say, and do something different in my next story if needs must. It's like any skill set, I think. It takes time to hone but no one would call, like, Van Gogh untalented because he once started with rough and heavy pencil sketches, right?

It's the knowledge that I'm building up my future self's skill set that gives me confidence to publish, even if I'm not quite where I want to be currently! And I really hope this helps you the way it does me; the knowledge that you can do anything, write like anyone, but that it's all part of an overarching process to learn to enjoy writing like you!

Which brings me to:

The Metrics

I am just going to say flat out that you should try to ignore metrics as best you can. In my experience, metrics are absolutely no indicator of a work's quality. Some of the work I am proudest of is what anyone would consider a "flop" by note count, whereas I think some of my most trite & banal works would be considered by some metric quite "popular." And I think that way about some of my favorite fics too, one of my absolute fave fics of all time only recently broke 100 kudos on ao3 after being up for years!!

I especially think this is true on tumblr, where a work's packaging and digestibility seem to be the key elements in gaining notes (ao3 does not allow the same level of customization). Fics with elaborate headers, cute & small fonts (I am guilty of loving these), and eye-catching graphics all naturally draw attention more easily in the sea of other fics, so it makes sense why more people would tend to look at those, and subsequently like or reblog them. I also think bullet-pointed headcanons or single/short paragraph works tend to skyrocket in notes here because they're quick and easy; and that makes sense too, right? If it's easier to read of course it's likelier to be read more!

But those things mean absolutely nothing about the quality of the work within. And you can take reassurance from the fact that you too can replicate those elements if note count is what you are truly after here! You can make a video header with any of the premades on Canva! You can try different font arrangements or cool graphics. You can even write a paragraph and tag it with a bunch of different characters for maximum exposure. There is no reason to get jealous, I think, if you can do it too!!

I also think you have to be conscious of different factors at play with authors. Some authors have been around since the inception of the fandom you're in, and naturally will have had more visibility for longer than you, but that also says nothing about the quality of their work. I've been around in the BNHA fandom for four years, and by a mixture of luck and timing ended up getting to publish a lot of my work during the pandemic when more people than ever were getting into BNHA. But does that make me better than some of the newer authors joining the fandom just now? HELL no lol, if anything maybe I could be getting complacent!

And this goes for the size of fandoms and the popularity of certain characters as well!! A Shouto fic is not going to do as well as a Bakugou fic because Bakugou has like, three times the stans. A Shinsou fic is not going to do as well as a Shouto fic because Shouto has like, five times the stans lol. And a Kaiju no. 8 fic is not going to do as well as a JJK fic because the fandom size (and therefore potential audience pool) has a significant discrepancy! Don't gauge your fic's success against someone else's in a different fandom or for a different character (or honestly even at a different point in the source material's storyline because sometimes a character has a moment where they are most popular but that drops off - think BNHA Hawks in 2020/2021 vs now lol).

There is a huge variety of external factors at play that determine your exposure and audience, but absolutely none of those can ever say anything about the quality of your work. So I hope you can try to distance yourself from the need to compare your metrics to anyone else's, because quite frankly they do not mean shit.

TLDR, think the best way to overcome the comparison trap is to write a story you love and feel is unique, something you are proud of. Because no one is ever going to tell a story quite how you would, and therefore no one can ever be compared. & I hope this was helpful and addressed whatever specific area of concern you have!! But let me know if not and I'm happy to discuss more!!

[dreamchaserguild]

We recently backed a project on Kickstarter and I wanted to ramble about that.

(This is not paid promotion and I have no association with the team making this project. This is just me gushing about something I think is cool.)

I grew up playing Heroscape. This game was my childhood. If you don't know what Heroscape is, here you go:

It was a simple tactical minis tabletop battle game where you make a team of different heroes with their own unique abilities. But what really sold this game was the landscape you could build yourself.

I used to have a table that sat out on our front porch that was filled with Herocape stuff as I constructed and deconstructed and reconstructed my maps.

And I didn't just have the starter set you see above. (Above is actually several starter sets. You don't get quite that many pieces from one box. I'm guessing it's three starter sets since there are six ruins, and Heroscape only came with two.) No. I had the ice set, the volcano set, the castle set, a Marvel set. The second starter set with swampy environment.

Heroscape was an amazing part of my childhood. Then Hasbro let it die.

They tried to revive it in the form of Arena of the Planeswalkers, a knock-off with a flat cardboard battlefield. But it got cancelled after two expansions. They're going to try again, but I have no faith that they'll stick with the Heroscape revival.

Which brings us to SOURCE.

SOURCE is a hex system made by indie-developers who themselves were Heroscape fans and inspired by Heroscape. Rather than connecting at the sides like Heroscape, the SOURCE tiles are held together by edges as you can see here. (I sure hope they don't mind me lifting the images from their kickstarter.)

A disadvantage to this is that you lose some of the modularity in being able to build in any shape you want. The advantage though is that it allows for terrain to easily be added and removed throughout gameplay.

(They're also working on special grip mats for those who just really want to build in any shape they want without being confined to shapes of the edges.)

And in my opinion, the detail looks way better than Heroscape ever did. Just compare the lava tiles above to Heroscape's:

There's no contest.

The SOURCE hexes aren't just the same thing in different colors. They're actual works of art.

And I'm not saying this to put Heroscape down. Like I said, it was my childhood and was fantastic for its time.

The game on the Kickstarter, Timestrike, is very similar to Heroscape. But with so much more stacked onto Heroscape's foundation.

Characters have move, range, attack and defense like Heroscape. You have the six-sided dice where three sides are swords and two are shields. Only now there is a special lucky sword and a lucky shield. These aren't relevant for most characters, but some characters will have abilities where they'll gain some bonus on lucky rolls.

If that's not enough, there's also a Contest mechanic where you can push another player's figure. This is great if someone is on a ledge and you want to cause them fall damage, or if you just want to steal the high ground from them to increase your attack.

You can also mine materials, build roads with the materials you mined, and go fishing for buffs. (Literally. You can stand near water and try to fish. If you succeed, you take a card from the fishing deck.)

There are wild monsters you can try to tame. There are even large figures you can mount and ride. See this guy:

That's a base on his back for you to place a smaller miniature on and ride him around!

The game is centered around not just beating each other, but also fighting a boss called a Sentience with space for three figures on its back.

(Note: the Gorilla Brute is not part of this first set, and will likely come with a future expansion.)

The sentience takes full advantage of the destructible terrain, leveling any space he lands on.

And they're tossing in solo and co-op rules for people who don't want to fight each other and just want to fight the boss alone, or to team up to fight the boss.

Oh! And it comes with STACKABLE WALLS!

That's a small thing, but it's a cool thing. (Okay, this is technically a stretch goal for $200,000 that they haven't put on the official Kickstarter, but $200K feels likely to me.)

The creators also seem genuinely committed to making this a reality and keeping it going for a long time, with talk of several expansions in the pipeline, introducing more playable characters, more rideable Brutes, and more bosses which will each have their own abilities and their own solo/co-op modes.

And possibly boats.

That's a picture of a prototype boat that can fit three figures and will NOT be included in this Kickstarter. But it is planned for a future expansion.

I don't know if the boats will come to fruition. I don't know if they'll look like that when they are released or if they'll look completely different by then since that would be a long way off.

But I appreciate knowing that there are plans to make this a long-term investment. I'm not worried that the creators will give up on SOURCE and Timestrike like Hasbro did Heroscape and Arena of the Planeswalkers.

And it's not just Timestrike. The SOURCE terrain can be purchased on its own and the SOURCE system is intended to be used for a variety of games by different creators. And it's already naturally compatible with Heroscape, Arena of the Planeswalkers, Battletech and other hex-based games.

I am incredibly excited and hopeful for the future of this project!

Here's the Kickstarter for anyone who wants to see more of this.

And here's a video review going over the Timestrike rules and how it plays:

[cemoras27-but-writing-this-time]

Danny's Evil Jaunt Pt. 3

(this is the chapter but I have work soon so I will tag everyone later a swell as links) @little-pondhead @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 (you two get tagged because your the big inspirations :D

warnings: swearing

Word count: 1.3k

Let it be known that Fright Knight loves his job. It's literally why he still exists. He exists to serve the King of the Infinite Realms and stand as the embodiment of Halloween and similar celebrations. That said, he feels conflicted as he gazes at the mechanical husk his future king shows off. 

Compared to a normal mortal, its stature was massive. Though for Fright Knight it was about equal height, possibly a little smaller. The inspiration was clear and a little flattering. The metal was shaped into a stylized Fright Knight, complete with a (mundane) sword.

He eyes his king as the Halfa clings to its arm. He rambled about how he was planning on taking the husk to a pocket that was populated with heroes with him to guard him, and how he wanted Fright Knight to help with ‘teaching it how to do those cool sword moves you do Frighty!’.

Has his king replaced him?!?! No, surely not! There's no way this heap of scrap could ever compare! He had been around for CENTURIES while this thing hadn't even existed an hour ago! The king still had his hands inside it making adjustments yet!

“My Liege! Please forgive any misgivings about this… thing, but may I know the purpose of such a creation? You said that it was for protection yet I am here.”

His king turned his head towards him, arms still hidden within the side of the imposter. “His name is Fright-bot, and he's gonna keep the heroes off me while I work! They get annoying when you're trying to do some welding and all of a sudden you have like three arrows comin’ at ya real fast.” the young Halfa finally pulled his glove clad hands out of the monstrosity.

“He's also for keeping my other works safe, that's why I need him first. I’m thinkin’ of keeping most of my bots in my ‘therapy’ dimension that Clocky showed me for convenience, and they need a guard! But I can't just have you away to protect them! You need to do head guard stuff! I know you want to protect me and stuff but I can’t just let you just out in the living world with me all the time!” the king continued as he slid the siding back onto the almost finished robot. “Besides! It's kinda like you're protecting me from afar! Since it’ll be your techniques and stuff. I just gave it a body and Tuck helped me with the learning algorithm stuff so you can teach it.” his legs finally released his hold on the beings arm, dropping into a handstand and falling back onto his feet upright.

The flaming kight considered this. While it’s true that he can’t always accompany his king (as much as he would like to) it would be nice to have some assurance that the King would be safe. Perhaps he could convince the King into some sort of deal…?

Well Danny could say that he’s extremely happy with the events that happened at the castle! He and Frighty came to a deal finally! Frighty would teach Fright-bot how to fight and stuff but Danny would have to put in a built-in alarm system that notified Frighty that something bad was happening, so he could come in and save Danny’s day. Overall pretty good! Now to start working on those blueprints, he was so excited!

‘Ok, who gave the kid permission to build huge robots?’ Oliver thought as he saw the Fenton kid perched on top of the mecha-knight looking thing, and pulled back on his bow. Just as he released the arrow the thing’s head swiveled around like an owl and caught the damn thing! The kid looked up at Ollie and smiled.

“HI MISTER ARROW!! HOW HAVE YOU BEEN?” the kid shouted at him and jumped off the robot. Oliver sighed and readied another shot but was forced off his rooftop position by the purple knight.

“Who's your friend there, kid? He looks like the wrong kinda crowd,” the kid’s grin grew wider as he unfolded that damn cannon and attached it to a slightly glowing tank on his thigh.

“Do Ya like ‘im?! I built him myself, his name is Fright-Bot!” The fanged grin of the kid did not get any less unsettling as the newly dubbed ‘Fright-bot’ landed next to Fenton again.

“Uh uh, real nice kid. Why don’t you calm down and give up for today, yeah?” Oliver made sure to keep the knight within his sight. It honestly looked like it could snap someone in half.

“Hmm? Ahh.. I don't think so Mr.Arrow, I worked really hard on Fright-bot and I wanna see how I can make him better y’know! I promise I’ll keep the damage to a minimum!”

“You have your fingers crossed behind your back, don’t you.”

“What nooo… I would never lie Mr. Arrow, it's very hurtful that you would even CONSIDER that I would do such a thing. I believe you owe me an Ice cream now!”

“Kid, there was a snowstorm yesterday. And I don’t think you need any sugar.” The bow pulled back and the Knight rushed.

It wasn’t a fair fight in the slightest, Ollie was out numbered and the goo that was glowing a slight blue-green did not help. Especially with the still slick roads, so it was only a matter of time before his legs were stuck to the concrete. Frozen actually, the goo turned into weird ice. Fenton had the big guy grab his arms while the kid himself searched his body, eventually finding his wallet. The one he brought on patrol in case he got a bit hungry. Guess he was really buying the kid ice cream after all.

“14..15..16..21. Nice! You think it’ll cover it Fright-bot? I don’t know the prices but I think it’ll be enough. You watch Mr. Arrow for me! I’ll be back soon I promise!” and like that the kid expertly glided over the iced roads and into the Ice cream parlor. To be fair to the kid, the Ice cream here was kinda expensive.

While the kid was gone Oliver tried to escape from the Ice and the robot, but neither were budging. Well until Roy came up and stabbed the focused robot in the back, somehow causing it to malfunction and release Ollie’s arms. It fell to the ground with a heavy thud as Fenton came out of the parlor. 

“Oh no! HEY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!” Fenton screeched. Then released a guttural groan and whine. “Come onnnn…. I still had an hour left! And now I have to leave EARLY!” he honest to god pouted at the two vigilanties. 

Then a lazarus green swirling mass opened in between the opposing parties and out stepped another Fright-bot, this time with a much more intimidating demeanor. This one was bathed in purple fire and held a sword covered in green flames that gave off the feeling of nightmares. 

“MY KING! I RECEIVED THE ALERT AND CAME AS SOON AS I COULD'' it bellowed. Shaking the ground around them.

King? What, did Fenton make them refer to him as King? That felt weirdly out of character for what they had seen so far. 

“Frighty! You were just WAITING outside weren’t you!” Fenton yelled at the knight. The knight didn’t take his eyes off the two perceived threats. And picked up Fenton by the scruff of his coat.

“My King! I knew we couldn’t trust your safety with that pile of metal! Only I- FRIGHT KNIGHT, is worthy of protecting you! NOW YOU TWO. YOU ARE HEREBY GUIL--” the knight spoke and was cut off by Fenton. 

“We get it Frigty! Just.. Can you grab the Fright-bot and just take us home please… I told you this was a trial run to see how to improve him!” the child pleaded. The knight stared forward for a few moments before sighing and coming forward, yanking Oliver out of the Ice and flinging Roy and him out of the way. Then picking up the lifeless metal and carrying Fenton away through another swirling portal where it closed behind them seconds after they were out of sight. 

“Hey Arrow, what the FUCK was that?”

“A massive pain in the ass that keeps getting bigger”

[ddarker-dreams]

I love how your anons think of different scenarios about the characters they like. Like how the brain is brain-ing. I enjoy reading your stories, they give me peace even if the self-insert pov is experiencing toxicity. There must be something wrong with me. Anyways,

Darling just running up to Scaramouche, no words and just slams herself into him. She’s mad and she’s giving him a hug (cause she knows the consequences once she does something he doesn’t like), a crushing bear hug (the one that kinda hurts normal people) and he’s just.. flushing hot red like a mad man that he is.

3< this a heart btw.

I LOVE IT TOO !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! it's like those old internet drawing boards (or maybe they still exist ??) where people would build art off one another's work. but like without any hate symbols. i think it's super cool. and i don't think there's anything wrong with enjoying horror, although that's a subject i've always been interested in... ahem. i'll save that for another time.

running hugs are a god tier trope. never gets old. i'm obsessed.

scara would go from bracing himself to pure confusion. his internal mechanisms are shutting down in real time. his brain becomes goop. all forms of intelligent thought are gone, off into the void, where they'll stay until you're not squeezing him. are hugs supposed to be this tight? he doesn't have much experience in the field (that is to say, none), so he can't make up his mind. he gets the sense that this is an act of violence, but... wow. you're soft. so, so soft. and you smell heavenly, like a home he never thought he'd have. he moves his heavy limbs as if he were a windup doll on its last cycle, securing you against him, where you belong.

he knows he should punish you for any attempted harm on his person, successful or otherwise, yet he can't. this is just too cute. your nose is scrunched up in concentration and he can feel your muscles straining to inflict any level of damage. you're trying so hard. if his pride wasn't such an obstinate obstacle, he'd chuckle freely, maybe twirl you around to hear you yelp.

... that desire isn't ever going to cross into reality, but, nonetheless, he lets you carry out your unsuccessful mission. once the moment has concluded, a little indignation stirs up in him. he'll satisfy it by urging you to "try harder" the next time you want to inflict any damage, because if this was your best attempt, it wasn't very impressive. he rather liked it.

[mushyblushyredhead]

DAY 9: Lie ˚✧₊⁎・⁎⁺˳✧༚ (Marvel)

TickleTober 2023 🎃

Presented by @august-anon

Lee!Peter 3

Ler!Doc Ock

Words: 2,400

Summary: Spider-Man’s snarky quips have always helped him out of intense situations. Except when one particular Spider-Man (Peter 3) quickly realizes that his iconic quips aren’t enough to hide the silly weakness he “totally doesn’t have” from a certain eight-limbed, but surprisingly playful, scientist.

Peter 3 hummed to himself as he dangled upside down on one of the infamous actuators of Doctor Octavius. He never thought he’d be casually sitting in the same room with the once notorious villain from Peter 2’s universe.

The three Spider brothers had decided to hang out together earlier that day in the oldest Peter’s world. Except, Peter 2 had forgotten that he had to help assist Otto in the lab that same day.

“Aw don’t tell me you’re secretly helping him build another doomsday machine,” Peter 3 had joked.

The oldest rolled his eyes. “Relax. He’s dropped out of the villain gig for good. I was only supposed to help him sort and organize stuff around the lab, that’s all.”

The youngest Peter pouted. “Awww so what does that mean? You won’t be able to hang out today?”

Peter 2 was about to say something when the younger spiders both gave him their best puppy dog eyes stare. He grimaced. He could never deny his little bros with those looks. “Okay, look,” he finally said with a sigh. “Even though I’m supposed to help Otto today, I guess…you guys can…tag along too? As long as you don’t break anything, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind your guys’ company.”

“Alright!” The younger brothers cheered. “Let’s go!”

Things went smoothly upon arrival. Doctor Octavius was a bit surprised that all three Peter Parkers showed up, but he didn’t mind. While he and his Peter worked away at sorting through cabinets and desk drawers, the doctor let the younger Peters play around with his metal tentacles to keep them occupied.

Peter 1 was having a blast; swinging and dangling from the actuators, and letting them hold and lift him up.

Peter 3, however, wasn’t exactly having the same amount of fun. He simply sat down on a nearby swivel chair, pretending to be occupied with his web shooters. He was still a little unnerved about Doctor Octavius.

Okay, he had to admit, those artificially intelligent metal arms of his were really cool in a way. But they still seemed kind of…scary? Intimidating? The way those pointy claws curled and snapped shut, and the fact that were intelligent with a mind of their own that used to take control of their maker’s mind. Shudder.

It wasn’t until Peter 2 announced for a coffee break, that got the younger Spider bros’ attention.

“I’m just going to grab a couple coffees from Starbucks for us,” he said while grabbing his coat. “Anyone want anything from there?”

“Oooh! Oooh!” Peter 1 frantically waved from his upside down position on the actuators. “I’ll take a mango dragonfruit lemonade! Make it a venti!”

“Got it. Peter 3? You want anything?”

Said Peter hummed in thought. “Umm…a mocha cookie crumble for me. Make mine a venti, too.”

Peter 2 nodded. “Got it.”

The youngest spider chirped. “Wait! Can I come with you? You might need an extra pair of hands to carry all the drinks, heh.”

“Good thinking, little bro.”

“Awesome! Okay, uhh…can you guys let me go?” Peter 1 sheepishly asked the clingy actuators. They whirred understandingly and set him down, and all took a turn to give him a quick hair ruffle.

“You guys need me to come, too?” Peter 3 asked, getting up from his spot.

“Actually…” said the oldest. “Peter 1 and I can handle it. Thanks, though. In the meantime, you can hang back here in the lab. We won’t be long.”

“You can chill out here with Doc’s cool arms!” Peter 1 chirped. “They’re really fun to be around. Super clingy, too, but affectionate.”

“Oh. Okay then…” the middle brother eyed the mechanical arms wearily from the corner of his eye.

Peter 2 wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Hey, I know what you’re thinking. There’s no need to be afraid or intimidated by him. It’s all good now. I know you don’t know Doc as well as I do or even like Peter 1 has gotten to lately, but this is a chance to get to know him, too. Oh, and don’t be scared about those metal arms of his. They won’t bite.”

Peter 3 rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay, whatever. Just go get my coffee already. I need my caffeine!”

“Relax, bossy,” the oldest said with a poke to the middle’s ribs. “We’ll be back in a little bit.”

Peter 3 flinched and bit back a smile. It got super quiet in the lab now that the other two left. It was a little too quiet for Peter 3.

Doc Ock noticed how uneasy the middle Peter looked. He gave a little sigh. He must still be intimidated by me. He couldn’t blame the young Spider-Man. He knew he must’ve always looked intimidating to anyone who came across him.

But still, he didn’t want the young Parker to be afraid of him forever. Maybe his Peter’s suggestion earlier about leaving the two of them alone wasn’t such a great idea after all.

Then one of his nearby actuators chirped. Oh, yes. I almost forgot about that. Let’s just hope that what my Peter says about him is indeed true.

The scientist cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence. “Y’know, you can have a look around my laboratory if you’d like. You don’t have to be confined to one spot.”

Peter 3 nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Octavius shyly extended a metal tentacle towards him. “Would you…like to have a seat?” I know your other counterparts really enjoy it. Especially the littlest Peter.”

The middle Spidey hesitated or a moment. “Well…okay.” He climbed on top of the extended actuator. It suddenly lifted him up high off the ground. “W-Whoa! What the heck?!”

Doc Ock had to bite back a smile. “Sorry. Too high?” The actuator lowered. “That better?”

Peter 3 nodded. Feeling a little more relaxed, he let himself instinctively dangle upside down from the metal arm. Huh…he had to admit, this was nice. “Yeah. Don’t worry, it’s not your fault. Sometimes I forget those metal arms of yours have a mind of their own.”

The scientists hummed in agreement. “They can be quite a handful sometimes. But in reality, it’s like having four puppies attached to my back at all times.”

As if on cue, the other actuators slithered over to Peter 3, chirping curiously as they closed in. Peter 3 shrunk back a little. “W-Whoa uhm…they aren’t—they aren’t gonna like, attack me or anything, right?”

“Relax, they don’t bite.” Otto paused. “On second thought, technically they do, but you’ll get used to it.”

“Wait, what?!”

“Easy now, Peter,” Otto chuckled. “Before you get alarmed, I must ask…are you ticklish by any chance?”

Peter 3 could feel his cheeks grow warm in an instant. The question caught him so off guard, and already made butterflies fill his belly. “U-Uhhaahm…” he laughed awkwardly, averting his gaze. “Um…n-no..?”

“Hm. Your hesitance and the color of your cheeks says otherwise.”

Peter 3 awkwardly rubbed at his face, as if that would wipe away his blush. “W-Well I’m not hesitating. So…yeah. A-And I’m not ticklish, either.” He scoffed. “I mean, why would I be, right? That’s just not something that really works on me, y’know?”

Otto nodded. “I know, Peter. Which is why I’m gonna do this.”

Peter 3 suddenly squeaked like a mouse as he felt a jab to his side. “AaHHEAA!” Another squeeze, this time to his other side. The culprit? Two sneaky actuators. “Whoa, hey, d-don’t get any ideHAA! HaHAHeheheyyy! Nohohoho!” This time, both curious actuators simultaneously nuzzled against Peter 3’s sides.

The tallest Spidey was starting to lose his balance so he hopped off the metal tentacle. But as soon as he touched the ground, all four actuators surrounded and hovered over Peter 3, their claws teasingly pinching and wiggling in the air just above him.

Peter 3 squeaked and curled in on himself. His arms wrapped around his torso protectively. Air tickles always drove him crazy! It made his spider tingle go off over and over, which made the fuzzy feeling of anticipation even worse!

“Oh, and another thing, Peter,” Doc Ock’s voice cut in. “Your other two partners in crime explained to me how you’re still hesitant to be around me. I don’t blame you, boy. I now I can look very intimidating, but you don’t have to be afraid of me. I can be very fun to be around with, y’know!” He smiled over the sound of the tall Spidey’s cackles.

Peter 3 couldn’t answer properly with his mad giggling and squeaking. He couldn’t believe how teasy and casual the scientist was being! Okay, maybe his other spider bros were right about one thing: maybe he didn’t have to be intimidated by Doc Ock anymore.

But still, he couldn’t shake off the feeling like he had been set up. His question was immediately answered.

“I was also told by my Peter that the best way I could warm up to you was through silly play like this,” the scientist emphasized his point by having two metal arms squeeze at the boy’s ribs. “Since you love to play round and laugh. His words, not mine.”

“WhaHAAAhat?! I-I knew you guhuhuys were uhuhup to somethiHHEEE!! Something eheeHEE—evil when you were tahahahalking!”

“Why, I did no such thing,” Otto innocently answered. “I’m simply trying to show you how friendly and warm I can be. You, on the other hand, have brought this upon yourself by lying to me!”

“WhahAHAt?! I nehehever lied!”

“Mhm, did so. You lied about being ticklish, and I will not tolerate any liars in my lab!”

“B-Buhuhut I wahahasn’t lying! I-I swear!”

“Then lift your arms up.”

“W-Whahahat?!!”

“You heard me. Lift your arms up. If you aren’t ticklish like you say, then clearly this shouldn’t affect you, right?”

“Riiiihihight?”

“Well, then go ahead.”

Being ever so stubborn, Peter shook his head and wrapped his arms even tighter around his torso. “Noho wahahay! I knhohohow what you’re gonna do!”

Otto couldn’t help but laugh at the flustered Spider-Man. “Good lord, you must be extremely ticklish to be this jumpy and giggly.”

“I-I aham nahahahat!”

“Another lie right there! That’s it, now you’re going to get it!”

The four actuators descended onto Peter 3, two grabbing his wrists, making him screech. “NAAAAHAHAHAO PLEASE!”

The scientist actually jumped back at he sudden reaction and quirked a brow. “Too much? I’m sorry, I’ll tone it down if you’re too overwhelmed by this.”

The metal tentacles pulled away like nothing had happened. Otto stole a quick glance at Peter 3, and was sure his heart was going to melt at the sudden look of shock and disappointment on his face.

Was he…pouting?

“Something on your mind?” The doctor asked with a soft grin.

“U-Uhmm….I-I hhhmmffhh…” the flustered Spider-Man averted his gaze and fumbled with his hoodie sleeves. “Y-You don’t—you didn’t have to…necessarily stop…”

“Oh? Is that my cue to keep going?” The metal tentacles were back, pinching the air above Peter 3’s sides.

“W-Whoa! Watch ihihit with those thihihings! A-And what? Keep going?” Peter’s 3’s face flushed as red as a cherry. “You couuuuld if you wanted to…” His lips suddenly curled into a cheeky smile. “But you’re wasting your time ‘cause I’m not even ticklish!” He stuck his tongue out and made a run for it as soon as the actuators descended on him again.

Otto shook his head with a smile at the Spider-Man’s cheekiness. His Peter warned him about how stubborn Peter 3 could be when admitting something like being ticklish. But he also said that was just Peter 3’s silent way of asking for more tickles or to keep going as he always provoked the other person instead of asking for it; he was just too shy to ask the dreaded question.

Otto had his metal tentacles make a grab for him again, resulting in Peter dashing for the door. He, of course, didn’t make it and was once again grabbed and pinned by the actuators. “What is with you lying to my face? You’re literally giggling and squirming already and I haven’t laid a finger on you!”

Peter 3 just shook his head, sputtering more giggles as his blush darkened and reached the tips of his ears. “I-Ihihit’s your freaheeheeheaky arms! Make them stohohop thahat!”

The older scientist was confused at first, but quickly caught on when he saw his actuators hovering over the boy’s body, the claws teasingly wiggling and slowly lowering and pulling away at the last second. “Ohhh I see. You can’t stand anticipating tickles, can you?”

Peter 3 stuck his tongue out in response.

“My goodness, you just have quite the attitude today. I’m guessing you don’t want me to go easy on you then. For that extra lie, you’re getting all four actuators!”

“W-Wait huh? What does that me—HEEEEEEheahaHAAAAAhaha!!” Peter 3 didn’t have the time to finish his sentence because all four metal tentacles attacked him at once. One was squeezing at his ribs, another shoved under his arm, another scribbled at his belly, and the last one was trying to get at his kicking feet.

Despite not being restrained at all, Peter 3 made no real attempt to get away. He just laid there on the floor, squirming like a worm on a hot sidewalk, and cackling like a hyena.

“AaaHAAAAhahaeheAAAAheeHEEEEEEHEE!! HeeheHEEEEheHAAAAhaha!!”

“Interestingly enough, you’re not making much attempt to get away. I don’t even have to hold you down with my extra arms!”

“ShsHDHSHshuhuhut uhUHUP!! AAAAAHH! Wahahahait!! NAAAAAAHAHAHAO!! EEEEEEK!!”

“Oh? Is this a bad rib of yours?”

“YEHEHEHES!!” Peter 3 shook his head madly. “T-Thahahat one’s off limits—NAAAAAAHAHAAA!! N-Not there EHEEEHEHEEE—either!!”

Octavius shook his head with a chuckle. “Is there any part of you that isn’t ticklish?”

“I-I d-HAAAAAAHAHAA don’t knoHOHOW!! *snort*”

“Dihihid you just snort?!”

“N-NOHOHO—*snort!*”

Unbeknownst to them, two figures were watching the playful spectacle from the slightly ajar door.

Peter 1 giggled behind his hand. “Peter 3 does sound like a hyena!”

Peter 2 lightly shushed him. “He sure does. I’m just glad Otto took my advice after all when we left. Well played with you too, little brother; tagging along with me to get those two alone.” He ruffled the younger spider’s hair.

Peter 1 squeaked happily at the touch. “Hey, you don’t think Peter 3 will get mad at us for doing this to him on purpose, do you?”

“Nah,” Peter 2 shook his head. “You know how much he secretly loves to be tickled. Besides, this way he won’t be afraid of Doctor Octavius anymore just like we all once were. Despite the scary metal arms, he really does have a soft playful side.”

THE END (*´꒳`*)

[tacticalhimbo]

PALE STATIC EXCHANGE... 2! Posting this a bit early, but I'm very excited to have been able to dip my toes into @palestaticexchange this time around! It's very cool to see how alive the Disco Elysium fandom is.

That said, this piece is for @glitch-critter , who asked for "stuff relating to HDB's experience/psyche, especially with regards to electrochemistry/addiction".

WORDS: 2.3K

I really liked the prompts provided, and I thought it would be cool to kind of explore how relapse and recovery can manifest in forms different than the baseline addiction. As such, it would seem Harry has found himself over-correcting himself in regard to his work...

I hope you do enjoy it <3

Also, let me know if you’d like a more permanent copy of this, too! I’m always happy to provide a PDF version of the writings I do :3

Coastal winds were much tamer as they rolled through the densely packed buildings of Central Jamrock, only just able to sustain themselves as they lapped around the perimeter of Precinct 41. Harry wouldn't be here, if not for Kim. It was he who'd defended him to Vicquemare. He who'd attested to the idea that Harry could get better, with a little guidance and a lot of patience. He who'd truly believed in him, despite everything they faced. Creeping along his senses was the smell of blood shed by belief and held together by vengeance. Remnants of a decades' long war, and its lasting effects on the human psyche—both those that were in tact, and those that were already fragmented—as the world evolved around them. The stillness of the air was dry, just as was the mouth of the disco detective who'd found himself falling into familiar habit. Eat, sleep, work, party—

[LOGIC] No, not anymore. You've given that up now.

[VOLITION] You are a changed man. Or so you would like to have others believe.

Harry is a changed man, or so he would like others to believe. He would like to believe it.

Yet the familiar dryness that consumed Harry did not feel changed. Nor did the aching that settled into his musculature, drawing the thickened fibers back like that of a bowstring, arming them—arming him—to snap at a moment's notice. His stomach felt a familiar sickness. One that had consumed him during the infancy stages of the Martinaise investigation. A horrific hangover, but this one was different. It was dry. He was dry. And that irritated him. Thick brows knitted as his psyche wandered to the idea, briefly leaning into the comforting embrace of familiarity of outrage. It was easier, after all, to be mad at the circumstance than to navigate it. But… It didn't feel right. No, he wasn't angry about it. Perhaps a part of him was. But Harry? Him? He was uncertain. Afraid. Every time he wet his lips in consideration, he knew he would not be able to stop himself. Not when—

[ELECTROCHEMISTRY] It's a miracle you even lasted this long. It's like something has snapped in you—a nerve ending. You've lost yourself, Harry. Truly, lost yourself. And god knows how long it will take you to come back this time.

The subtle emphasis makes his skin crawl as his head shakes, hands pausing to linger under the chilled water pouring forth into the sink basin. He sighed, looking to the dingy mirror before him.

Through the speckles of old debris and matted dust, and past the droplets of dew that form with the arterial spray of the sink's faucet (a sign that the mechanism, much like the rest of the restroom, is in need of repair; it has been for as long as one can remember), the visage that greets Harry is… healthier. It invokes a sense of pride not too dissimilar to when he'd first whispered his name—the one he had chosen, not the one he was given—and truly seen himself for the first time. Like the waves, it swelled briefly before crashing down. Fell upon the invariable signs of his past habits. Like looking through the bottom of a liquor-filled glass, it was hazy; a deluge of desperation and need encapsulated by bloatedness and swollenness. Sat neatly among the discolored planes. Pallid skin darkened and reddened as the blood vessels beneath the skin remained agape, prepared for consumption.

[ENCYCLOPEDIA] Telangiectasia. Small blood vessels sat near the skin's surface. It is natural for them to sit so high, but normally they remain unseen until there is an increase in blood flow.

[INLAND EMPIRE] Recall how one's features become rosy when hearts begin to flutter, or how the sun's warmth seems to sit upon the apples of one's cheeks like a comforting blanket.

[DRAMA] There is an art to this.

[LOGIC] There is not. This is a different sort of happenstance. The events that have led to your flushed appearance are not a simple point of life, nor something to be proud of.

But it is, a simple point of life. Accentuation of Harry's simple existence. It is not something he can change, especially as that nausea begins to grow in his gut. His mouth feels full of cotton; his body so writhe with tension that he begins to tremble and grow dizzy. His nose feels like a small balloon in the middle of his face. His tongue feels swollen and snail-like, floundering about amidst tainted teeth as trembling hands cusp beneath the faucet and draw splashes of water toward his lips.

[ELECTROCHEMISTRY] Drink, but it will not replace what you need. No, this is nothing, brother. The best cure for a disease like this is indulgence. Morphine, cigarettes, rum… You need them again. You will not survive without them. This? This is—

[COMPOSURE] Embarrassing.

[AUTHORITY] Weak. How do you expect anybody to take you seriously? Nobody would listen to someone so pathetic.

The taunts were met with the sound of the door slamming; a minute signal in the grand scheme of things. It went unnoticed by those in the wing's hallway. To them, it was business as usual. If not Harry, then Satellite-Officer Vicquemare. If not Vicquemare, then Captain Pryce.

[RHETORIC] The police aren't there to mess up; the police are there to preserve the mess.

[ENCYCLOPEDIA] Says the professor of Ecole Normale de Revachol. Someone has been reading in his spare time.

[LOGIC] Or simply observing with a clear mind.

[ESPIRIT DE CORPS] This is a dangerous line of thinking to be falling down. Your past airing of grievances with the RCM has earned you several stern talkings to. In his office, Captain Pryce grimaces at the clutched papers in his aging hands.

[RHETORIC] It was addiction that saved you. Easier to blame the abstract than to examine the system.

A shiver. Harry wasn't the only one struggling. He knew that, even before his days of total sobriety. This sort of culture was normalized; expected of its officers. Many of his habits he fell into through the hands of his coworkers, even if they were not his introduction to the idea. Of course, things were different now. After his outburst, and the disaster in Martinaise, the RCM began cracking down on the use of substances among its officers. Many, like Harry, suddenly found themselves thrust into the true responsibility of duty. Conscious and aware to the severity of their workloads. Many quit. Many more fell into old habits and were systemically demoted until the work no longer supported their needs. And those, like Harry, leaned into the work. Buried themselves in mountains of paperwork chasing that adrenaline-fueled high by doing something—anything—to feel alive.

Yet they never did. Harry never did.

Time blurred past and he was, effectively, the same old corpse he always was. A puppet of the RCM's agenda. The failed Dick Mullen. The swaying body strung from the rafters, dancing along to the fluttering shimmer of the disco ball.

Then, there is nothing. Only warm, primordial blackness. An inordinate amount of time passes, not even measurable by the distant, rhythmic technological beeps.

[PERCEPTION] Hospital monitors? No. Alarms. An alarm.

[LOGIC] It must be morning. We should get up.

[VOLITION] We shouldn't. We can't. It's much too difficult.

The soft rustling of sheets.

[PAIN THRESHOLD] Easy…

Muscles ache and the silence is inevitably broken by a low groan. Sunlight filters in through dusted curtains, particles coming to fill the air as a heavy hand finds itself upon the alarm clock beside him. Equally heavy feet find the floor, though remain unable to hold the body above them. In a quick sequence, Harry finds himself on the floor, slumped and slouched in an all too familiar position. The aches stop, albeit briefly. Like a fly to the ointment, his conscience sticks to it. Chases it as the limbed and headed machine of pain and undignified suffering awakens itself once more. He is on his feet again, cotton cloth sliding across the floor as his body wills itself to the bathroom.

A mirror hangs above a bent, not broken, sink. Languid hands find themselves upon the faucet, though are gentler in the way they manipulate it. Hot water sprays from the stem and steam covers the mirror. Harry cannot see himself, just the outline of a man.

[CONCEPTUALIZATION] There is an irony in seeing the image. It was not always like this.

[VOLITION] Those days are long gone, now.

Cloth falls from the man's frame, though it remains obscured by the apparatus before him. He slowly reaches his hand toward the surface of the mirror…

[INLAND EMPIRE] You're certain you wish to do this? You may not like what you see there.

[HARRY] I don't care.

A deft motion. The condensation on the reflective surface gives under the palm that wipes it, leaving in its path a clear view to the tired visage that stares back. To the naked, pallid flesh that rolls from a slumped frame. Hair highlights various pathways, traveling down between taped and tucked mounds and rolling along the rumbling stomach, and continuing through the fog and beyond the sink's barrier. It traverses the adhesive edges of Harry's binding (he's still thankful he has learned this alternative; not only does it keep his natural form, but it allows him to wear his shirts open with pride) and over his shoulders. Down thick arms to the bruised knuckles that hold the porcelain lip of the sink. It flutters out, then reappears upon his rounded jaw, mutton chops growing thickened around his lips. He's due for a shave, but a part of him enjoys this rugged look. It's… different. He's different.

He's happy.

[COMPOSURE] You're exhausted.

[SAVOIR FAIRE] You've dropped the toothbrush. Again. Your hands feel foreign to your own body.

His eyes follow dirt-stained grout lines down to the floor, only to find that sad little toothbrush dried beside the trash bin. He's exhausted. Creaking and groaning, Harry bends to discard the brush; opts to simply swish some mouthwash and try not to think of the burning sensation that draws his nose to scrunch and his eyes to water. He does it twice. Perhaps to mask the fact he has not properly brushed and will have to save that act for after his shift. Perhaps because he feels he deserves the ache; it invigorates him. Begins to bring him back to life and pull him from the vice grip weariness holds on him.

But it isn't enough.

Not as he washes himself in the shower, nearly tripping over the tub's lip as he climbs out afterward. Nor as he finds himself slumped against the wardrobe door, idly flipping through his clothing options and looking for his RCM jacket.

[PERCEPTION] It… should be here. Why isn't it here? Don't tell me we've lost it again.

[LOGIC] Nonsense. We brought it home. It is here, just not put away.

It's not enough as he waits for the toast to pop from its apparatus, where the sudden click and ding nearly makes him crawl out of his skin. Coffee spills on his shirt, bringing him back to the wardrobe once more, digging around for a new shirt and tie. Back to the kitchen. New coffee in his cup. Butter and jam on cooling bread. Crumbs dust his facial hair, only unsettled from their rest when he reaches to scratch a persistent itch. It is then when the realization clicks.

He's exhausted. He is unmoving. Those early morning aches have not been shaken, and have in fact only worsened with his moving through the morning routine. His mind has been quieter; nearly absent. He can barely recall what he's done and what he hasn't, with the only clues being the visible changes in his appearance that signify—at the very least—that he's done the basics and cleaned himself. But that's just it. If he can't even recall this, how in the world could he find himself responsible for the safety of others. How could he find himself amidst the greater world around him, with dozens of eyes on him—some pleading, some scrutinizing?

He'd done it before, under worse circumstances… but he wasn't that kind of animal anymore. He didn't want to be that kind of animal anymore.

Which is why, with a swaying physique and a hoarseness in his voice, he found himself on the phone with whichever unfortunate soul would find themselves on the other end of the line. Unfortunate, not for taking in his call-in, but for having to present it to Vicquemare and Pryce.

[ESPIRIT DE CORPS] Early morning ire. Slender knuckles knock on the door to ask permission to enter; it is granted. From his throne, Pryce sneers at the individual before him. His brow twitches, his posture stiffens.

[CAPTAIN PRYCE] What the hell do you mean he called out?

[ESPIRIT DE CORPS] A pregnant pause. The avoidance of eye contact.

[UNKNOWN] He just did… Said something about feeling under the weather.

[ESPIRIT DE CORPS] The response was faint. Nearly whispered as the other end of the reigning duo entered with a stack of papers.

[JEAN VICQUEMARE] Who called out?

[CAPTAIN PRYCE] Your star pupil.

[ESPIRIT DE CORPS] Jean's posture slackens and he sneers. It's evident the sarcastic jab was more than enough to clue him in. Yet there is a subtleness in his eyes that almost suggests concern. He sets the papers on Pryce's desk then walks out without another word.

Shoulders slump and a ragged sigh escapes as Harry undoes his tie and discards it, absentmindedly tossing it to the coffee table. His shirt follows as he sinks into the comfortable contour of the couch. Tired eyes slip shut, coaxing the surrounding musculature to relax and begin a rippling effect. He melts, and for once he can feel the day passing.

And for once, he does not care. He deserves this rest, and nothing can convince him otherwise.

[lesbianneopolitan]

Last night I innocently uploaded the pic of Neo and Ruby gaming on Twitter, but I got pretty much replied by people who were very much judgmental and passive-aggressive about being shocked, etc, etc (lots of them minors), lost some followers, etc

I am very affected by those situations because at some points it feels like harassment for something so stupid (I've seen wishes of death towards me before for old Fallen Petals stuff), no one ever takes the moment to even talk with me about it, nor try to understand the development and process that made me ship it in the first place- that it's actually a pretty innocent wish of building up a cool ship to have fun with my friends.

I have very bad anxiety from PTSD and I don't have access to meds rn, so things that get out of hand can really affect my mental and physical health, like, people don't keep in mind that the major part of the time, the people they accuse are people with problems like me, that are dealing with irl stuff or trauma and simply want to have some positive fun on the internet, to escape a bit from it all- art and writing has been a good coping mechanism for me to not practice self harm, and my therapist was actually proud of me for it, so I don't want that taken from me, specially when I'm mindful and tag things properly. And when honestly, discovering RWBY and messing around with some ships helped to make me happier. Because I think it was about time.

RubyNeo isn't even following all canon details, Ruby's more practiced and slightly older, and honest to God, I don't see what's wrong with building an AU with headcanons when we aren't doing it for the sake of, what?? only having them fuck?? or oversexualizing them?? the people that literally oversexualizes Ruby and only do lewds or only smash her against another character so they fuck is something that pushes me SO back because I personally find it disgusting (and if I'm in a mood I can have am anxiety attack for it, same for other dynamics, like incest, etc etc).

So for the love of everything, blacklist, block me or whatever, but understand the kind of person I am or the building for the things I do or the things I draw before I'm labeled as things I'm not. Because I'm sure you wouldn't want it to happen to you.

Treat me like a person, not like some kind of idealized artist that has to be perfect.

Show some empathy, try to be understanding, not everyone that ships 'x' is going to be a super evil person that did it with the most malicious intent in the world. Sometimes we're simply playing with them like they're Barbies, to create stories, angst, wholesome moments, independent timelines, etc.

Like I mentioned I myself deal with PTSD, there are so many things that despite being presented in good faith could throw me off the edge because of triggers, but I simply take care of myself and tag stuff, I blacklist and in the worst case I block, specially if someone is specially harmful and toxic to real people.

So please, just, let me be, I'm just a nerd trying to live life alongside friends to be as happy as I can because I've had enough abuse already.

Be kinder unless the person in question is GENUINELY harming real people and are potential real creeps, please, I'm tired.

[inventors-fair]

Settling at the Top: Hybrid Legend Winners ~

Our winners this week are @grornt, @horsecrash, and @izzet-always-r-versus-u!

@grornt — Vhati en-Dal

Someone never read the Weatherlight saga story—and that someone is me. Whoops. Hard to imagine a point at which novels were the main way to consume MTG lore and whatnot, but that hardly matters now that we have this moment of defection. I guess the only issue is that this card feels split from the timeline more than it is an alternate timeline—i.e. this is the card that could've followed instead of Diabolic Edict. That said, there's the placement of where a timeline truly becomes an alternate one, and I really don't want to get into the semantics of it. Vhati deserves differently.

And what a card you've made of it, too. The lifelink overlap is pretty low-hanging fruit for WB hybrid but that doesn't mean that it ain't still awesome. Utilizing tokens is one of the ways that this becomes significantly better, and Ball Lightning-types would absolutely love to have this card in their arsenal. With the card draw, it's definitely a bend in white, but not so much a bend that it's not understandable. Limited draw with something that white cares about is more than enough to see it through. As both a potential commander, a good limited build-around/utility card, and a neat mechanical callback, I'm really happy with the design sensibilities on display here.

@horsecrash — Sythis, Havoc's Hand

I think the shorthand works here, because honestly, the only thing throwing me off is the fact that some cards like Karametra's Blessing add a whole lot of words in there. Not that this card is hard to grok my any means, but it's a lot of text and there's only so much I'm willing to encourage adding for the sake of specificity. Let's back up. Mechanically, this is a limited powerhouse and I can imagine the work that it would do in a heroic-style standard/pioneer shell for sure. Double strike is rather powerful, but in-pie for both colors, and ramping up auras, flash enchantments, upper-curve creatures—pretty crazy powerful but only as much as a body can be.

What's interesting here is the difference in the flavor from Theros' usual fare. I can picture this moment where schwoop, planeswalkers gets taken to an alternate timeline or something, and the once-peaceful Sythis was created with a little too much wildness in her. Touching the monstrous wilds imbued her with the power to protect through force. It's a bit of a departure from Akroan valor, and yet there's a cool concept there about everything in Theros being topsy-turvy. What happened to the rest of the plane and the gods? What happened to that devotion to have the Nyxian entities suddenly change their form? Great use of the prompt.

@izzet-always-r-versus-u — Winota, Martial Force

You, on the other hand, can go to your room and think about what you've done. Good grief, this card is heartbreaking. Like, in terms of alternate universes or whatever, there's now a world where the once-revered bonder Winota is a stoic, severe, militant figure who uses her powers to destroy the creatures that she once would have loved. That activated ability... I'm honestly a little unsettled! Perhaps Winota still has that bonding ability, turning monsters against each other for the sake of Drannith. Unless I'm reading that very wrong, anyway. Our timeline's Vivian meeting this timeline's Winota wouldn't end well.

I don't think that much is going to end well for your opponent if you manage to land a Winota on board either. Creating non-Human tokens with things like Resolute Reinforcements or Anim Pakal ensures that the sacrifice will get all the indestructible that you need (except for Winota herself, good balance) in the competitive Human shell. Limited will make almost all your humans so much better, and on-board removal is always incredibly powerful. Mythic legends are both of those things for a reason, though. I think that this is pushed but far from unbalanced. I also appreciate how the similar abilities/triggers utilize completely different play patterns than the original Winota.

Great job, everyone. Runners coming up. @abelzumi

[vaccinateyoursmutgoblins]

Ok, so recently I finished the story mode for Mortal Kombat 1 (way late I know) and I have come to the conclusion that my least favorite chapter was the one in the fortress where Bi-Han “becomes a villain”(that’s how the devs tried to make it). This is because it really doesn’t do a great job with outlining why he would turn to that.

Sure he has a line talking about the money and maybe some cool statue soldiers but it does a disservice to him and the clan’s loyalty to itself. So I can up with an alternate idea!

Hear me out this is gonna be a doozy to explain but what if Bi-Han died in the fortress. Now I can already see you pulling out your pitchforks and torches but let me paint you the picture of what I can see….

We get to the end of Shang Tsung’s speech trying to get Bi-Han to hand over the Lin Kuei and Bi-Han says something to the effect of “to hell with your offer” to which Shang Tsung basically says “Have it your way” and another fight breaks out now with the brothers fighting against the Deadly Alliance and Shao.

Now we can have either the classic approach as the chapter ends during the start of the fight and we transfer to playing as Kuai Liang or you continue to play as Bi-Han up until someone (Probably the Deadly Alliance) corners you. Bi-Han maybe knowing there’s no way out for him says to Kuai Liang “Go get out” and the player becomes Kuai Liang. We have no idea what fate has came for Bi-Han because the last of him we see is him trying to fight his way out while Kuai Liang swears he will try to get help.

The fights ensue with Rain and Havik as per usual but when he gets to Tomas he’s upset because his brother basically sacrificed himself and now he has to explain that Bi-Han is still inside and that they need to get back to the Lin Kuei and rally them up- but then you hear a mechanical noise…

When they turn around they find Sektor and Cyrax (Human forms) with a small army of cyber soldiers. They make their evil villain speech explaining that they have been the evils this whole time setting up the cyber Lin Kuei behind their (the brothers’) backs while they were on missions, essentially turning their clan against them.

Their reason? It’s quite simple they were never as valued as the sons of the Grandmaster, they could work as hard as they want but they will never ever get to have a chance at being the leader of the clan because the siblings exist and they are pissed that they were screwed out of the chance (or Maybe Damashi showed them something idk).

Of course you know that a fight fueled by anger would ensue and you know that Kuai Liang and Tomas kick their asses. The fight ends with the Kuai Liang or Tomas trying to get a killing blow only to be knocked back by a cyber ninja while other cybers are dragging away the beaten bodies of their new Grandmasters (Like Team Rocket we’ll see them another day).

Now the reality has sunken in for the both of them… 1) They don’t have a clan to go back to and 2) Bi-Han is still inside (presumably dead or dying) and Tomas knowing the gravity of the situation says “We need to go back to Liu Kang, we will die if we go back in there” and the chapter ends with the remaining brothers scurrying back to Liu Kang and the others…

Alternatively, you could go for the approach that Kuai Liang witnesses his brother dying by the hands of one of the villains and snaps unlocking some new part of his power but I think keeping Bi-Han’s status unknown would lead to the presumable “Aftermath” DLC we might receive in the game.

Now this cleans up most loose ends, with this ending it allows the Shirai Ryu to be created since the Lin Kuei dishonored Liu Kang and allows for a new DLC to be created following the clans.

On the other hand this could also cause some of those who hate seeing Bi-Han die in every timeline to get angry but then we could see Bi-Han in this timeline get and actually compelling redemption in the new DLC maybe at the end we see him as Noob Saibot helping to build the Shirai Ryu and with the help of a Titan Serena (since he’s helped her in other timelines) become human once more and all the while we see the brotherly bond that a lot of us wanted in this game.

But that just a random thought I had while playing through that and the invasions modes. Anyways thanks for coming to my TED talk. Goodbye!

[holedaemon]

Ass Respect 2

Saturday, myself and Ari (@freakpatrol) finished up Mass Effect 2, after less than a week of playing. We played for idk, a little bit.

My friend Dylan put it well: Mass Effect 1 is one of those games you'd see in a "learn to make video games at DeVry University" commercial. It's clunky, inaccessible, and a slog.

Mass Effect 2 is smooth, accessible, and fun. Genuinely one of my favorite games ever.

THE GOOD PART 1: GAME MECHANICS

So far, Mass Effect is iterative. Each game takes the last and builds upon it. I don't know the history of development, but it's clear that Bioware saw the issues in the first game and went "hey, let's make this better." For instance,

The game is more accessible. Menus are easier to navigate and much more comprehensive. Shit makes sense. Things are actually explained to you, you aren't just left to guess how things work, or where you're supposed to go.

Following the theme of iteration, stuff that was lacking in 1, has been improved upon:

In the first game, there was only one minigame that was used for everything. It was basically just frogger; get your little arrow to the center of a circle, avoiding the obstacles that send you back to the start. It got to be annoying after the 1,400th time you did it. In 2, there are two distinct minigames mostly used for hacking/accessing technology and areas. The first is a match-the-symbols game, pretty self explanatory, the second is a code-matching game, where you match blocks of text with what's shown in the legend. They're not perfect but they're SOOOOO much better than what we had before.

Next: the star map. The galaxy is a big, expansive place. Before, you kinda just clicked on a system, went there, scanned a couple of planets for collection quests/resource gathering, then went to whatever planet your mission was at. Now, you actually have to travel to different systems manually. You pilot your ship between systems, using up fuel to do so. I wasn't super keen about it at first, but it grew on me. The overview of the galaxy also shows you your active quests, which is super nice.

In the same vein, the resource gathering is much more in depth. Before you could click on planets and sometimes would have the option to scan them for stuff. It was very shallow. In the sequel, you can scan pretty much every planet; it's a minigame in itself. Right-click and drag along the globe to find pockets of resources, then click to send a probe down to collect them. You can find element zero, palladium, iridium, and platinum. Each can be used for different kinds of research, which is used to upgrade you, your gear, your squadmates, their gear, and the Normandy. It's much more fleshed out and actually pretty fun. To Ari's dismay, I would sit and suck those planets dry looking for shit.

Also extremely important to mention: the side missions. They're SO much better now. Rather than going to some prefab & shooting enemies, each one is actually fleshed out and substantial. THEY ALSO GOT RID OF THE MAKO!!!! NO MORE OF THAT STUPID ASS CAR!!!! NO MORE TRYING TO SHIMMY YOUR WAY UP A MOUNTAIN FOR 20 MINUTES!!! IT'S GREAT!!!!

One minor thing I appreciate is that you don't loot inventories for items anymore. You mostly just pick up credits, resources, and ammo, which is much preferable. The inventories full of crap back in 1 were jarring and really took you out of the game.

That reminds me: ammo. Before, you had infinite ammo, your gun would just heat up with each shot, and if you filled the meter, it would have to cool down. Well, they ditched that in favor of ammo pickups. Enemies drop ammo, or the pickups will just be placed around the map. Apparently this was a controversial change, but I like it a lot more than before, it introduces a new challenge.

Along with ammo are your powers. They really made biotics a viable thing here. They're fun, they're powerful, they can really kick some ass if you use them correctly. I didn't make much use of them, but I appreciate the work that was put into improving them.

Just a few more things. I promise I'm almost done.

Overall, the game felt a lot more difficult. I felt substantially weaker; shit would tear through my shields like they were nothing. Bioware also did away with medi-gel, kinda. You still have it, but it's exclusively for your teammates if they go down. To regain health, you have to take cover. This made it a lot more challenging, I couldn't just spam heal in the middle of a battle, I actually had to strategize and hold positions. I like it.

The last major improvement they made was to the squad AI. It was actually worth a damn now. Squadmates would actually get kills and it was glorious. It didn't leave me feeling like I was totally on my own like before.

Also they got rid of omni-gel, but I don't think anyone cared.

THE GOOD PART 2: THE WORLD

Ohhhhh my god the world. It really hit me just how much better the atmosphere and level design was when we got to Omega. It's in the terminus systems, which are systems that are ungoverned by the citadel and the council. Omega is basically the citadel for crime lords; it's a dirty, slummy neighborhood on an asteroid. If you know me, you know I'm a sucker for settings like that (read: see Dorohedoro), so I LOVED Omega. Anyways: the world. It's so much more alive!!! When you touch down on a new location, everything really hits you all at once. There's people to talk to, places to go, things to see, it was great. The ambience was so much more potent; there's always some conversation going on in the background. The levels themselves were much less linear feeling, you could really explore & go anywhere. It wasn't like the citadel in the first game, which was so annoying to traverse.

The most important part of any world is its characters and Mass Effect 2 did not disappoint. In terms of races, it was mostly the same with a few newcomers: like the Vorcha. They're cool gremlin-looking dudes that slum around Omega & work in merc groups. There's a lot of prejudice towards them unfortunately. They're regarded as dumb vermin by pretty much every other race. People hate them more than they hate Batarians. It sucks cause they're actually pretty cool!

Speaking of Batarians, we got to see them a lot more, too. Unfortunately not in better conditions than the previous game; still mostly depicted as mercs, terrorists, and slavers.

There was also the Drell: anthropomorphic lizard guys. We only saw.... 2? Your squadmate, Thane, and his son. They're apparently near extinction. :( Their home world was destroyed, somehow, and they were taken in by the Hanar. Their relationship with the Hanar was symbiotic, the Drell lived on their planet and in return, as put by Ari, they do anything for the Hanar that "required having bones."

Another cool race we saw ONLY ONE OF, were the Yahg. The only one we saw happened to be the Shadow Broker. He was cool & tough, not much to say about him, but I liked him a lot.

I also wanna briefly touch on the enemies in the game.

The big bads were the Collectors. A race of bug-like aliens that were very elusive. In reality, they're actually Protheans that've been cultivated and genetically modified by the Reapers. Much like the Keepers on the citadel. Cool dudes.

Besides the Collectors, you were blasting mercs, which I loved. There's three distinct groups: the Blood Pack, the Eclipse, and the Blue Suns. Each group comprised of different species, with their own gimmicks.

The Collectors also had some new creatures in their ranks. Among the Husk, there were Scions. Scions are cool, grotesque Husk-like abominations. I like them a lot, but don't get me wrong: they SUCK. I died SO MUCH TO THEM. They have this long-range shockwave attack that's nigh impossible to dodge. Absolute bastards.

As for your teammates, a lot of newcomers, but some friendly faces too. Most notably Garrus. I love Garrus, he's my boy. We fucked. Tali also came back, I'll talk about her more in a bit.

Anyway, among the ranks were:

Miranda - total cunt. The Ashley of Mass Effect 2. Absolutely miserable to be around. I didn't speak to her unless I had to.

Jacob - Polite soldier type. He was cool but I didn't really care about him.

Mordin - MY PROBLEMATIC FAVE. He's a crazy, fast-talking, oldhead Salarian. We found him on Omega working on a cure for a plague that was going around. First and foremost, he's a genius scientist, but he also has combat training & can hold his own. At one point he sang a Salarian sea shanty, and then another time he was like "hey Shepard I saw that you moved your eyes in a funny way, btw I don't wanna fuck." Totally awesome dude. The thing that makes him problematic is he, well, modified the Genophage to be more effective. He quite literally sterilized the Krogan further and committed genocide. As the story progresses, he shows some remorse for his actions. I LOVE LOVE LOVE Mordin.

Thane - the aforementioned Drell that you encounter. He's a master assassin- really cool dude. Very calm & collected; prays to different deities before every kill, I dig it. He's also dying, that sucks. Love my boy Thane.

Samara - an Asari Justicar, which are highly esteemed warriors in their culture. Almost like ninja monks. They pretty much have immunity from any legal repercussions. They live by the code, an ancient set of scriptures that basically tell them to kill anyone that sucks or tries to hurt them. Samara is, as Ari put it, "the most autistic woman in the galaxy." She's awesome, has a really tragic backstory. We killed her daughter.

Jack - Oh Jack. She's a high level biotic that was experimented on as a child by the terrorist group Cerberus. Tortured for most of her early life in a facility you go back to and blow up with her. She's a volatile bottle rocket of anger & angst, ready to explode at a moment's notice, and also the hottest woman in the galaxy. You can't romance her as fem Shepard, which is a fucking TRAVESTY. I love Jack so much.

Zaeed & Kasumi - not even worth talking about.

GRUNT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! - MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! He is your Krogan squadmate for the game. Bred in a tank by the late Dr. Okeer. He's grumpy and ready to kill anything that moves. He was born literally yesterday & I would die for him. For his loyalty mission you take him to TUCHANKA!!!! THE KROGAN HOME WORLD!!! It's a fucking disaster of a planet, it looks like every level from a late aughts military shooter. But guess who you can fucking see there??? WREX!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If you chose to save him on Virmire, he has since returned home & become the leader of his own clan: the Urdnot. The Urdnot are the dominant clan on Tuchanka and are trying to reunify the planet and its clans. My boy Wrex is delighted to see you. He's really thrived on Tuchanka, becoming a very stoic leader, but very visibly happy.

A lot of the Krogan you encounter on Tuchanka are mean to Grunt because he was tank-born. But not Wrex, the old merc sees right past this & welcomes Grunt to try his might in the rite: the ritual that Krogan perform as they enter adulthood. The rite is basically just a tower defense game, culminating in fighting a Thresher Maw. If you succeed, Grunt is welcomed into clan Urdnot. Grunt still chooses to tag along with you in your mission, as you are his Battlemaster. He really comes to respect you over the course of the game, I love to see it.

Tali'Zorah - It's Tali, baby. She's back. She's finished her Pilgrimage & is working for the Quarian fleet. I specifically wanted to mention her because her loyalty mission is actually really cool. After her recruitment, Tali is called back to the Quarian fleet, having been accused of treason. You see, after her mission on one of the former Quarian colony worlds (where you save and recruit her), she sends deactivated Geth parts back to the fleet for her father to do research on. Due to the research being done, this backfires, the Geth are reactivated, and kill the entire ship, including Tali's father. We learn this during the hearing, and everyone is shocked. As a way to clear her name, Tali & Shepard go to the ship the Geth are on and clear it out. I really like this mission because it adds a lot of depth to the Quarians & their culture. I loved seeing the Flotilla; the architecture of the old, second-hand ships they travel the galaxy with. Meeting more Quarians was a delight too. Easily one of my favorite races in the series; their conflict with the Geth is complicated & tragic, and I'm eager to see how it plays out.

AND FINALLY....

LAST BUT NOT LEAST....

THE MAN OF THE HOUR....

MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE COMPANION...

LEGION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! - PERHAPS THE COOLEST COMPANION EVER, BESIDES WREX..... I didn't know of his existence until he was introduced. Ari was very careful not to tell me about him, and I'm thankful for it. I love him so much. Legion is a Geth. A true Geth. One that is not following the Reapers. It turns out, the Geth we've been fighting for the last few years are actually a faction of "heretics" that broke off from the main group. The main group are still peaceful & reclusive. I really, really, really love this twist because it adds so much more depth to the Geth. It gives them reason to be, more than just a fodder enemy for the Reapers. It makes them more complicated. The Geth are vilified across the galaxy & the reason AI have become illegal, but they're really just misunderstood. During Legion's loyalty mission, you are tasked with destroying the heretics. Except you have a choice; you can destroy them, or save them & rewrite the code that's made them submit to the Reapers. It's a morally ambiguous mission- I took the latter route, opting to save them and rewrite them. It feels wrong to do that, but it's better than genocide... Anyway, yeah, Legion: absolute favorite part about Mass Effect 2. Everyone is hesitant to have him aboard the Normandy, but he rocks & I would die for him.

THE BAD

That was a lot, if you've gotten this far, thanks. I have a lot less to say about the game from here on out, as it's a really fun and good experience. But as with anything, there's always some bad.

These aren't even necessarily super bad things, just stuff that irked me. Primarily:

Stability - the game's a lil buggy. There were weird animation errors & at one point I crashed entirely. Ari was also unable to play in windowed mode for some reason, which made watching me stream a pain, since they had to watch on their phone. They're gonna get a second monitor here soon, though. 👁️

UI & Controls - extremely nitpicky, but, a few times, dialogue options and weapons in my wheel would switch around. I don't really know why, but it got me a few times. The bigger thing was the controls on the galaxy map: if you pressed escape, it would kick you out of the map entirely. Very annoying.

The DLC - I'm not really sure what all was DLC, because it was included in the legendary edition of the games. But the DLC characters, Zaeed and Kasumi, were fucking nothing. Just empty husks of characters, lacking all depth & interesting story. I did their missions for completion's sake but they were fucking stupid.

The final boss - SUPER SUPER COOL CONCEPT!!! It's a fucking Reaper shaped like a skeletal human, it was so awesome looking, but the fight itself was underwhelming and lacking. I did it in a single try. Literally I had more trouble getting to it than fighting it. You basically just shot its weak spots until it died.

Weapon mods - they got rid of them!! I thought that was a bummer, I liked the customization they offered in the first game.

All in all...

Mass Effect 2 is a fantastic game. Easily a contender for one of my favorite of all time. The world, the characters, the story, it's all fantastic. It really took the basis the first game left & expanded upon it in such a cool way. We've since started 3, and I'm already thinking "oh this is not nearly as good as 2."

Thanks again to Ari for playing it w/ me. It's nice to actually experience and enjoy games again. Having a partner to go through it with has made it 10 times more enjoyable.

The one last thing I have to say about the game is that I really enjoy how everybody calls you Shepard exclusively. At one point, during a conversation with Liara, I thought to myself, "wait, what's Shepard's first name?" That's when I remembered, I named her Obama. Obama Shepard. Ari laughed at me.

Again, if you read this far, I appreciate it. I'm sure once we've finished 3, I'll have even more to say.

With Love,

Obama Shepard

[liauditore]

hi i have returned opinions on secret life so far? (also any idea why bigb’s secret animation was different to everyone else’s?) :D

hi hi i have so many Thoughts that i will definitely miss Something but. lots of things. spoilers for ep1 under the cut obvs.

why is every ship getting crumbs. literally all of them. what is wrong with everyone wtf. (except treebark. treebark girlies stay losing)

new mechanic is insanely hype and i am going a little bit feral over it. i've been wanting a UHC-style season for a long time and this seems a great way to kind of. entertainment-fy it i suppose? cus as much as i wanted straight up UHC i can totally understand why players like joel or skizz or scar would struggle hard in that sort of ruleset and it wouldn't be very fun to watch as a result.

i'm a bit.. tentative about the more acknowledgment of the Lore this time around? On one hand i love it and i think it's incredibly cool but on the other hand i know well that lore can eat a series alive if let out of control. Especially when fans start getting pushy about their theories and disappointed when inevitably things aren't as explained or thoroughly confirmed or straight up forgotten. (<-- fnaf fan. i have seen it. it is horrible)

that being said i have trust in grian specifically to handle it well and not go off the deep end with it cus a good chunk of the viewers don't know/care for the lore and if it becomes a Big Thing then a lot of people are gonna end up feeling alienated and confused.

i LOVED Bigb's episode and i think it's like. the ideal way to incorporate lore into a series like this. the way you can Feel that something is off rather than it being explicitly shown. you can choose to write it off or dig deeper. it's good juice. I've mentioned this before but I'll say it again -- Bigb is easily one of the strongest roleplayers on the entire server and his editing REALLY sells it hard. He really melts into what's happening rather than getting up on a platform and shouting THIS PART IS IMPORTANT. LOOK AT ME. which i really appreciate as a kind-of honorary former theatre kid.

but yeah tl;dr i think lore/fan theories should be left to the fandom mainly otherwise it starts getting weird. that being said i trust the life series ppl and can't wait to see what's going on with this season.

now if i may be unhinged myself. i def agree with the theory that Something is up with Bigb's task and maybe whatever gave it to him is trying to mess with the game.

Bigb and Mumbo specifically I felt were acting.. a little OOC the whole episode? Bigb was very much on purpose i think and i reckon mumbo's just excited to be back lol but its fun to think about

the task system has a lot of potential for. fanfic symbolism fuel. i mentioned this on my spam blog i think but something something about the way the players' tasks almost seem to. mock them? a little bit?

like pearl's being to "earn" people's hearts after she failed to make any connections throughout double life and has been somewhat isolated the whole series. bdubs being known for his efficient and beautiful builds being told to make something ugly and useless. scott being implicitly called a parasite with his history of teaming and latching onto one specific person each season. etc. etc.

the teams this time around are looking interesting and i think it's worth noting how it almost feels like.. the opposite of limlife a bit? with how slow and cautious everyone has to play. it seems like over half the server haven't really even joined up with anyone yet which is intriguing. (im personally praying for a scar/jimmy team up. just cus scott said they wouldn't make it lol)

which is great for me cus i loved limlife but the chaoticness of everything did kind of. make deaths less impactful i think? if i see another sky bridge i might scream

im very. of two minds about the scott and impulse team up. because if you dig through my blog you'll see i have kind of a history of being unhinged about those two and their parallels. but i have the sneaking suspicion that their actual dynamic will be like nothing i had in mind lmao

overall i am very excited but trying to control my expectations

also um MUMBO AND LIZZIE ARE BACK AND GEM IS IN THE SERIES AND MUMBO AND LIZZIE AND THUBS ETHUBS ETHUBS ETHUBS ETHUBS--

[fantasyfantasygames]

Several Short Games, Part 2

Last time I got through about half of the games that Lily gave me. Here's the rest of them, including the one that's much longer than the others.

queerweird (Jeni Usborn, 2016) The game queerweird (lowercase mandatory) is an asymmetrical indie game for three people in shorts around a fire pit. The game's "safety rules" section directly addresses that last point, and you find out quickly that that's because the resolution mechanics include kicking at the firepit. Other resolution mechanics include yelling loud enough to get an echo or making out with one person until the third one gets uncomfortable. Really, queerweird isn't meant to be played. The art seems mostly like it's Usborn's private kink stash touched up to a minimum of reasonability. Cool stuff: Look, if I didn't sell you on it already then there's no cool stuff in here for you.

Giant Robots on Spreadsheets (Henry Stein, 2007) When you have someone who is very, very mathy writing a game, they generally write about a thousand pages of Very Arithmetic game rules involving space, mecha, or both. I know because I did that once. Mechanical engineer Henry Stein went several steps further. He simplified it all down to reasonable heuristics, transferred it to one massive Excel sheet that did all the work for you, and gave it tabs that would let you look up the rules by keyword. He distributed this at-cost on USB 2.0 keys in .xls format. What's that? You have a computer with a USB 3.0 ports and can only read .xlsx format? Yeah, such was the fate of my mathy space game written in WordPerfect as well. Cool stuff: The game balance is impeccable.

Uncomfortable Erotic Tension Cultivator (ListyMcListerson, 2019). UETC is a two-player game / foreplay tool. It is the 21st-century, slightly grown up, itch-diaspora equivalent of naughty dice. (Not Naughty & Dice, that's different.) Cool stuff: Meant to be used over the course of several days to, as the name says, build tension. It puts you into an actual scenario rather than just being "Roll the dice and hope it comes out hot."

ARCANO, the Game of Rules, Magic, and Regulations (Little, Burco, and Frane, 2014) ARCANO is a 5-volume set, outweighing all the other books on this list put together. Each book is in 12x12 inch format, and the whole set makes up a one-foot cube. The books are: character creation, core rules, summoning, shadow magic, and bibliomancy. There are just those three classes. Individually, the rules are not particularly intricate or complex, but there are a lot of them. Cool stuff: The bibliomancy book. Not only is it put together in a way that makes it a useful tool at the game table, but it turns all four other books into bibliomantic resources as well. There are acrostics and anagrams and all kinds of neat things hidden away in it. It's a shame the authors of the other books couldn't keep up.

Just Let's Make Pretend (AnonymousIsMyUsername, 2023). JLMP is a diceless game, if you can even really call it a game. It's like someone wrote down a set of instructions for "make-believe" just in case we ever needed to explain the concept to martians. It's not poorly-written, but you don't need it. Cool stuff: Cites its sources. If you're looking for people who are studying RPGs as a scholarly pursuit, the reference section in JLMP is an excellent place to start.

Thanks again to Lily Vers for the pile of books. Now the question is how I can foist them on someone else. I'm starting to fill up my storage container.

[partofmycharm]

The Neon Project - Part One (Male Yautja x GN Reader)

Hi everyone! I had this idea in my head and thought it’d be pretty cool to write.  Let me know if you want to see a part two because I’d definitely be interested in continuing!

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Summary: You probably shouldn’t have taken that job. Because, now, a Yautja demands your help... but, hey, at least you’re getting paid well. 

Content Warnings: none really, just lots of swearing, SFW

Wordcount: 3063

Hadt’yk’e = (had-ti-yik-ee)

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Strips of green neon lights lined the metal pathways and across the width of storefronts and apartment complexes, brightly reflecting off the tinted glass skyscrapers. Various sized ships drifted high overhead, following the holographic lines of designated pathways between the buildings, directing them to and from the docks or landing pads that jutted from the sides of the skyscrapers.

 At this time of night, the streets were quiet. The stores that closed late were dwindling in customers, the workers of which tidying their spaces in preparation. Red holograms flickered back and forth across the surfaces of the glass buildings, bearing the words ‘Human Only Territory’ in bolded letters.

 They suddenly began to flicker and change; the image morphed into the unsettling face of an old female android model, whose features still toed the line of the uncanny valley. It flashed a sweet grin, the shutters in its camera-like eyes adjusting. “Welcome to the Neon Light District. Here, the safety of our citizens is integral. Please make sure you are abiding by the laws and regulations as detailed on Section 3A of your Citizens First guidebook. As the time is now one hour past sun-down, routine shakedowns will now begin. Any and all persons found to be harbouring individuals of extra-terrestrial origin can and will be prosecuted. Thank you for your cooperation. And remember, if you hear the sirens, please evacuate to your nearest underground bunker immediately.”

 The hologram pixelated back into the ‘Human Only Territory’ sign. No one had turned to watch — it was the same announcement that they played day by day, once in the morning, and once at night, without failure.

 You were pulled from your ruminations as a robot council cleaner pulled straight in front of you. Its mechanical, pincer-like arms were held to its boxy middle as it rolled from the alley, its wheels whirring loudly. A few papers of propaganda flew from the over-filling built-in bin, drifting aimlessly through the air before landing by your feet.

 The silhouette of a cobra’s head was bracketed by two lines: ‘The Cobras: Venomous Intent’ and ‘Hey President Eustace: We Bite Back!’, and right at the bottom was: ‘Got a Code? Join Us Today!’.

 “Excuse me,” the robot beeped as it reversed towards you. Its mechanical arms reached out to suction the papers before dropping them back into the rubbish hole.

 You stepped around the knee-high thing and kept walking. Most of the others in the street had disappeared for the raids, most likely stowing away in those community safehouses that some people secretly ran. One had been busted the other day — you didn’t hear much, but you had heard that some folks were taken in. Community safehouses were meant to protect the homeless or the afraid, but since they were illegal, owning one or taking refuge in one was considered conspiracy against the government, thus sending those who didn’t escape into custody.

 The rules were ridiculous — bordering tyrannical, even. But it was the way of life on many planets now, such as the one you walked on now, Elysium. It was supposed to represent the future of human civilisation after years of such perseverance, but its way of life hadn’t been granted safety from the chains of war. It, too, had fallen to its knees during the government’s desperation to regain control in the long war against one of the Universal Powers — a few species that had existed and controlled the expanse of space since before than the birth of Homo sapiens.

 You turned down an alley just as a United Nations Space Military truck pulled onto the near-abandoned street. Taking this as your cue to hurry the fuck up, you quickened your pace towards the flashing neon sign at the end of the dark, narrow pathway. The closer you got to the green tree sign, the more the distant, thumping music became audible. You felt it deep in your bones and chest as you opened the side door.

 Hot air, alcohol, and sweat washed over you all at once. You almost keeled over at the disgusting stench that dared to burn your nostrils, but you kept your balance as the door slammed shut behind you. The music, now on the verge of bursting your eardrums, thumped around you like the world’s biggest speaker. Tight clusters of dancing people congregated on the dance floor, grinding their sweaty bodies against each other in drunken hazes. The tables were packed with bodies, most of which covered in a permanent haze of clouds from artificial drugs.

Strobing lights temporarily blinked the joint into darkness every few seconds. You curled your hands into tight fists as you glared through the mass of alternating colours, each flash making your gut clench with nausea. There was a bar backed with red neon lights, highlighting the silhouettes of shirtless bartenders pouring drinks for waiting customers.

 You tried not to take many deep breaths as you immediately turned to your right and zipped past a few tables of idling customers. A few eyed you up and down, their crooked and musty faces lightening with smugness as they watched you storm away. There was an archway amongst the right wall, where a layer of orange and red beads blocked the way through. You pushed them to the side and stepped into the hallway that stretched to your left.

 About halfway down stood a burly security guard with muscles larger than your head, the size of them almost bulging through the material of his fine suit. He stood patiently, with his thick hands clasped together in front of him.

 You paid him no mind as you walked past him towards the staff-only bathroom. Just as your fingers reached for the handle, a large hand quickly snatched the front of your shirt and pushed you back. The security guard had stepped forward, his scarred face sneering down at you.

 No words were exchanged, but you stared up at him with raised eyebrows. After a few seconds, the security guard grunted, and he relented his hold on your shirt. He stepped back.

 As if nothing had happened, you opened the door and stepped into the brightly lit bathroom, the lights buzzing above you. As soon as the door closed, the music outside ceased. You sucked in a deep breath before you approached the last stall, which was closed.

 After stepping inside, you pressed the flush button with your knuckle, and there was a low whirr from behind the toilet before the wall shifted. It rotated to the side, revealing a just as bright staircase leading down. The wall rotated shut behind you as you stepped in, and your shoes slapped noisily on the smooth concrete as you descended the steps.

 Right at the bottom sat a wooden door, the surface of it painted with the silhouetted head of a king cobra. You pushed it open to enter the small, boxy entrance, where another security guard stood, this time armed to the bone with enough weaponry to hold off a small army. He paid you no mind as the door slammed shut behind you, but the two whispering women in the corner did.

 There was another woman though. She was tanned, with swishing hair that reached her buttocks. Her defined muscles were covered in tattooed patchwork, and she bore two rings in her right eyebrow.

 “Took you long enough,” her voice was deep. You knew her only by the name Temperance. It wasn’t her real name, of course, it was after one of the major arcana of tarot. Other than that, you didn’t know much about her; you’d only worked together once before.

 “It’s not easy getting through the District,” you said. “Soldiers were everywhere in the west zone.”

 “Yeah. I heard talk of a safehouse bust,” Temperance said. She turned on her heel and began to lead you through past another set of beads and into the recreational room.

 “Another one?” You asked. That was two within a week. “Seems like they’re cracking down.”

 “Fletch is worried there are insiders.” Temperance pushed open a door, and they moved past an armoury and an indoor shooting range.

 “Wouldn’t surprise me,” you said. “So, what was the rush to get me here? I was about to go off planet, you know.”

 Temperance laughed. “Wait until you get a load of this,” she said. “Remember that job you took a few weeks ago?”

 “There were a few.”

 “The big one,” Temperance said pointedly.

 You shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah. Why? They get busted, too?”

 “No.” Temperance clicked her tongue. “Better. Or worse. Depending on your perception.” They stopped at a locked door, and she turned to you, raising a finger. “Now, whatever you do, don’t panic. And be respectful, for fucks sake.”

 “Yes, captain,” you whispered as Temperance turned back around. The cut-out in her loose singlet revealed the twisting tattoo of a ferocious fire-breathing dragon, rippling and twisting with the flexing definition of her back muscles.

 The door opened, and, at a table, stood only two figures. One being Fletch, one of the men responsible for leading the Cobras. He’d spent years in prison for a crime in which he was falsely accused of; his time there having crafted a shell of who he used to be. Faded tattoos covered the expanse of his skin, most of which accumulated during his time behind bars. He was rough and tough, but he cared about his people — he wasn’t like the military or the government. He always said if he went to prison again, at least this time, it would be for something worthwhile.

 The other… individual standing by the table was of certain interest to you. He was massive, standing at around 7’5, his limbs and torso plated with shining armour and leather. Underneath those pieces, his hide was an unusual deep purple, with even darker stripes that were barely distinguishable up and down his frame. In the centre of his abdomen was a white diamond, which easily caught your attention amongst the monotonous palettes. He had a singular feline skull that rested above his codpiece, and a blank mask with words of an unfamiliar language etched across the surface.

 This was a Yautja, you knew that. It wasn’t your first time meeting one, but it would be the first time you’d meet one in a… favourable setting.

 “(Y/N),” Fletch said. “Nice to see you again.” He held his hand out towards the male Yautja, who’d stiffened and folded his arms across his bulky chest as you entered. “This is Hadt’yk’e. He’s an Arbitrator.”

 You could sense the hostility from the very moment you stepped inside. You only managed a nod toward Hadt’yk’e, who hardly acknowledged the gesture. Temperance rose her brows as she moved off to the side, sneaking you a knowing glance.

 “Why am I here?” You asked. You didn’t like the way you suddenly felt vulnerable under Hadt’yk’e’s scrutiny. In response, you, too, folded your arms across your chest.

 “I heard that you were allocated a job a few weeks ago. Right?” Fletch asked carefully, to which you nodded. Fletch turned to Hadt’yk’e, who jutted his chin at you.

 “Your temporary employers were Weyland-Yutani. Were they or were they not?” The Yautja asked in perfect, fluent English. His voice was deep and gravelly, accentuated with clicks on every harsh sound.

 “I can’t disclose that,” you said casually, which earned an unpleasant snarl. Fletch held up a placating hand.

 “In other circumstances, that would be correct,” he said. “But there are bigger things at stake. And as a Commander, I say it’s fine.”

 You almost rolled your eyes. You didn’t care who Hadt’yk’e was or what his title was or why he was here. You respected only the code of the Cobras; in doing so, you’d seen a lot of shit in your lifetime. This guy? Pfft. He wouldn’t kill you, therefore he didn’t scare you. But, alas, Fletch was an authority figure, and he was someone you respected.

 “Yes, they were,” you said plainly.

 “And what is your formal title for this… rebel group?” Hadt’yk’e asked. Oh. So, he was one of those Yautjas, then. It was clear to you that he’d never done dealings with the Cobras before — it wasn’t common for them to do business with a Yautja, but it did occur.

 “I’m a smuggler,” you said. You knew where this was going, and you had the perfect response crafted.

 “And what was it you were smuggling?”

 You just shrugged. “Dunno.”

 The response didn’t sit well with Hadt’yk’e. His muscles tensed, but he didn’t say anything else. After a second or two, he spoke again. “I will not ask again.”

 “Good. Because I don’t have an answer,” you said.

 “(Y/N),” Fletch said with an undertone of warning.

 You sighed. “I don’t know. I was just told it was special cargo, and that I had to be careful and quick.” You weren’t lying. Weyland-Yutani performed a lot of shady shit, and the only ways for them to discreetly transport precious cargo from one facility to the next was through Cobra smugglers, i.e., you. It was the only job you’d ever been allocated from that company. The payout had been decent.

 “Where did you deliver this cargo?” Hadt’yk’e asked immediately after.

 “Some designated meetup point in this District,” you said.

 Hadt’yk’e rumbled. “Where?” He reiterated.

 “I can’t remember. But it was on one of the landing pads in the east zone,” you said. “That’s all I know. Can I leave now?”

 “No,” Fletch said. “We have reason to believe that precious cargo of yours was actually a Yautja. And Hadt’yk’e needs him back.”

 You blinked. “Right,” you said slowly. So, what? They wanted you to smuggle yourself into a Weyland-Yutani facility, find an entire fucking Yautja, and somehow smuggle him out without anyone noticing? What a fantastic idea. “And how is this my problem?”

 “Because you are the one responsible for handing him over.” Hadt’yk’e’s voice was stern. He still hadn’t moved, eerily enough. “Now, you will be responsible for getting him out.”

 “You’re an Arbitrator. Isn’t that your job?” You asked incredulously. God, you’d been right! These guys are fucking lunatics!

 “There’s a problem,” Fletch said. “No one here knows of any Weyland-Yutani facility anywhere on this planet. But, from your information, it must be around this District somewhere. These facilities are basically impenetrable.”

 “Great. Good thing you’re trained for that, right, Hadt’yk’e?” You asked, turning towards the Yautja, who just stared at you.

 “You aren’t funny,” he said.

 “I didn’t say I was,” you quipped. “I don’t understand why you think I can be of any help.”

 “You’re probably the only person on this planet that Weyland-Yutani will trust,” Fletch said. He rested his palms against the side of the table. “So, you’re probably the only person who’ll be able to find them.”

 You wanted to argue. The last thing you wanted was to closely work with a Yautja — one who blamed you for this situation, no less. You couldn’t see how it was your problem; your job was literally to smuggle shit, mostly confidential, from one place to another. It was just a source of income, with a nice added slice of protection from the Cobras.

 Hadt’yk’e didn’t like the idea any more. If he could do this on his own, he would. But Weyland-Yutani had learnt from previous encounters, making his job harder. Although he wasn’t opposed to working with humans, he didn’t particularly like the feeling of asking for help.

 “Do you still have their contact information?” Fletch asked.

 “It was a proxy,” you said, shrugging. “And the channel was disabled after the deal was done.”

 “Send me their information,” Hadt’yk’e said. “And the channel. I can decrypt the data.”

 You stared between the two of them before briefly looking at Temperance, who was bobbing her head to the music that played through her old-age, blocky headphones. You turned back. “So, what? What do I do with this?”

 “Well, once we establish contact—” Fletch started.

 “If we establish contact,” you interrupted.

 Fletch glared. “Whatever. If we establish contact, you can be the one that gets in. You’ll be Hadt’yk’e’s eyes.”

 “They don’t trust me,” you said. “And besides, you need a facial profile to get clearance into any government facility. And last time I checked, I don’t have one.”

 If Weyland-Yutani didn’t front as some giant engineering corporation, there wouldn’t be any problems infiltrating their place as a human. But facial recognition data patrolled their facilities like a pack of wolves to its prey. The questionable stuff happened under the surface, but you had never really cared to know. They’d never been on your radar, and the ship that you’d bought was independently crafted.

 “That’s what Temperance is for.” Fletch gestured towards the woman in the corner, who threw up a lazy gesture when she clocked the attention was on her.

 You turned to Hadt’yk’e, who was already staring at you. “Alright.” You nodded. “I smuggle you in, and I expect some sort of payment. What have you got?”

 Hadt’yk’e had been expecting this. He jutted his chin at her, the curves of his mask catching the low lighting. “Are universal credits sufficient?”

 “Are they traceable?”

 “No.”

 You nonchalantly half-shrugged. “Ten thousand.”

 “Eight.”

 “I’m not going any lower,” you said. “I’m already risking my ass for shit that’s not even my problem.”

 “It is your problem,” Hadt’yk’e said.

 “Ten thousand, and if you think that’s negotiable, I want an extra grand for every time you inconvenience me,” you said with an unimpressed tone.

 Hadt’yk’e bristled for a brief moment. He untensed his muscles — he wouldn’t let this get to him. “Fine. It is a deal.” He had plenty more where that came from, anyway.

 You smiled at him; it wasn’t mocking but it wasn’t nice, either. It was just another job, you told yourself. I’m only going to break into a government facility. It’s no big deal.

 And as Fletch started talking, you couldn’t help but think about how your employer was a fucking Yautja! You didn’t like the idea of working for one. They weren’t exactly on the top of your Favourite Alien list — not like you were keeping tabs… but, still. The more experienced Cobras dealt with them on the few occasions one had approached them.

 You sighed internally. I should have never taken that fucking job.

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Part Two —>

[spockandawe]

I’m a fairly beginner bookbinder (I’ve done pamphlets and coptic bindings with paper and book cloth) and your posts about the k118 binding are incredibly compelling. I’m currently typesetting a fic that I’m going to need to break into two 500 page volumes and wanted to try doing a case binding for them. Would the k118 be too difficult as a starting place for case bindings?

Oooh. Let me see! This is a slightly tricky question, because until you get into the mechanics of how all the pieces are assembled, it isn't clear how k118 and casebindings differ. It's like one of those things where you look at two identical animals and are like 'what do you MEAN they aren't related???' I'm going to go into probably unnecessary detail below, but the bottom line up front is that I don't think the k118 will be a good choice until you have some more experience with either hardcovers with closed spines (no matter how a style tackles it, this complicates construction compared to coptic). But I like the k118 binding a lot, so I want to explain why I think that and what the big hurdles to reach that point are!

First, here's the post that I was sent when I first learned about k118, and then here's a link to a tag on the blog of another bookbinder who enjoyed playing with this style. I learned primarily from that first link, but I've also fumbled my way through some similar styles before, which i drew on to bridge the gap between pictures and instructions. I believe this is the DAS video where I learned about covering tightbacked leather bindings. The other times before k118 that I've done this, I did laced on boards where I sewed on cords and then threaded those cords through my cover boards to fix them in place (very cool, but hard, and messier than I anticipated)

Once a k118 is done, it will look a lot like a rounded casebound book! But the distinction is that k118 is built and covered right on the text block (similar to a coptic binding), and a casebinding involves building the case (cover boards and spine stiffener, plus covering material) completely separately from your text block, and the final step is uniting them. I do like casebindings a lot, I do a lot of flat-backed styles where a spine board makes things look nice and crisp, and I can zone out and build a case on autopilot.

These are my cases for 2ha, for example. I made all thirteen of them and finished the covering material like this, and if one of them had gotten fucked, I could have restarted that case without the text block being affected at all. I like these a lot, they're probably 99% of what I've made!

Now, I don't have photos of how tightbacked bindings are covered, because even for k118 they're a sweaty-palmed race against time where you wrap a wet, floppy, adhesive-soaked piece of material around a three-dimensional object, and try not to get adhesive on your pages or the outside of the material. I might have done it with bookcloth, but it's really a style meant for leather and wheat paste. You usually make an ad hoc sheath for your text block so that they're shielded while the covers are free, but my locked tomb book definitely has a spot where paste got on the edges anyways!

Both casebinding and k118 use a text block where the spine is stabilized with glue first, so it will have fewer wiggles than a coptic book. I start with the book spine up, and take my pasted out covering material, and lower it centered over the spine. That helps me keep the material overall centered as the book object gets more complicated to handle, and if you're using leather (which stretches), you can tug downward at both covers to keep things taut and crisp. I don't think the process is terrible so far, though it may be tricky if you aren't used to such demanding glue control! The tough part is doing the turn-ins, which is where the DAS video will be much more informative than I'm about to be.

Now, your book has material glued to it along the spine and both covers. There should be flappy overhangs on all edges, and odds are good that some paste has squished out onto these even if you were careful. This is the part where using paste specifically is important, since it has a slower dry time than pva - when you paste out your turn-ins, at the head and tail of the spine, you'll need to pull your covering material away from the spine to make a space for that material to tuck in. It will go around the cover boards but underneath the spine. this is always a tricky mess, I keep a clean poking tool on hand so I can prod material into the gap, because my fingers won't want to fit. Also, as you're feeding material into the glue hole, you're trying not to get adhesive on the outside of the book. A damp cloth can save things if you spot it fast, and wheat paste will wipe off leather, but pva or fabric will be less forgiving. Bookcloth is also less forgiving for being pulled up and repositioned that way, there's a reason I didn't photograph the spine on efface the footprints!

I don't want to be discouraging here! I think the style is VERY doable, but it's still a hike in difficulty where mistakes will be punished with glue. I tried a tightbacked binding with boards sewn on cords at a point where I was already very confident with casebindings, with leather that was a gift and not a purchase, and still got punched hard in the ego. If you do want to dive into traditional style leather bindings, then yes, absolutely recommend this style. It's much easier than laced on boards, I just recommend watching das's videos on covering books like these, and edge paring leather is its own skill set I'm still not very good at.

(also, if you want to pursue leather, material sourcing gets complicated. 1-2 oz veg tanned goat leather is ideal, you won't want it more then ~1.5 mm thick if possible, and then you're SUPPOSED to pare parts thinner with specialty knives (or sand them). Bookbinding stores will sell this stuff for wild amounts of money, or it's possible to find affordable hides elsewhere, but it is definitely a niche product. Cow hides are not worth it. Vellum sourcing is also annoying, my current books have been done with vellum PAPER, so we'll see how long they live. I'm optimistic! But true vellum can be purchased as scraps or offcuts from calligraphy places, or a comment from a conservationist on one of my prior posts recommended tyvek)

If you want to to work with bookcloth and paper, I strongly recommend working with casebindings or other adhesive-heavy styles until you're comfortable enough with those to get adventurous. A casebound book can be rounded as well to deal with spine swell! If a book is flat-backed, the case is worked flat and you don't have to deal with the third dimension until you glue it to your text block. If you have a curved spine, you probably want to pre-curve your spine stiffener a little first, but it's still MOSTLY flat. This style is still going to be most of what I make! I'm planning to keep k118 for books that need to open flat af (two pending wedding guestbooks, which is why I was testing it so hard here), or for full leather bindings. It's much, much nicer than the other tightbacked styles I've tried so far, but all of them are still an escalation in difficulty and fuss from my usual books!

Tl;dr, if you want to go hard on leather, i do recommend this, but advise you watch LOTS of reference material on leather first. Leather is very complicated and annoying, the learning curve is real, but I find it VERY rewarding to work with. If you want to stick to cloth and paper, I think it might be a discouraging jump in difficulty for the moment, but could still be in reach soon! A lot of my rhapsodizing comes from that lingering frustration/anxiety of my first struggles with tightbacked bindings, and I would hate to set someone up for that same pit trap when it isn't necessary.

There we are, that's enough wall of text for now! I hope something in here is helpful. I think a casebinding is your best bet for this project, and VERY attainable, but if your heart is set on learning k118 someday, I don't think it's FAR out of reach. I just want you to have a good time with this big project!! :D