#& — in character.

[raijintosworn]

Exhaustion takes Ryoma easily. The days have been long, and he's too thankful to have a bed to care beyond that. He doesn't snore, but there is little that will wake him now.

His subconscious is what guides his body now. On such a level, he's aware of another presence in the bed. It's warm, and of course, his body seeks out warmth. How could it not?

Without much thought beyond it, Ryoma's sleeping form rolls over, and throws an arm around Karel's waist. Then, he begins to snore softly.

u-haul yaoi

[mx-anthropy]

I saw a few people saying don't trust mech repair shops that are clean, and that you gotta go to the ones that are dirty and have crap everywhere 'cause they'll do a proper job and fix your rig cheaper and better.

While I agree in general, it's an even better sign if that shop has that *one* bay and workbench area that is conspicuously clean. Every good workshop has *that bay*.

That's the bay for when they need to go cleanroom on something. Pulling and refurbishing laser arrays, injection pumps, etc. Manually recalibrating gyros. Re-valving joint dampers. Fabbing up "custom" bracketry to fit that aftermarket heat exchanger that's *supposed* to be a direct bolt on OE style replacement and you just *know* it's not going to be that simple cause it never is, but the efficiency is so much better than the factory crap and who the hell wants to pay for a new genuine exchanger anyway, if you can even get one?

The number of absolute cowboy techs I've seen that think that just because they've done a bunch of work on their pa's agricultural mechs for years, they know everything there is to know about mech internals, strip down and reassemble a combat-rated set of hand actuators literally just on the god damned shop floor, only to wonder why all the hydraulics piss fluid out as soon as they run it through a test cycle. They might *look* the same as pappy's mech actuators, but they have way tighter tolerances and they run *way* thinner fluids in them. You get so much as a nick in the sealing surface of one of those rods and it's not gonna seal again. And before any goobers come for me saying "JuSt RuN tHiCkEr OiL" if you put anything thicker than 2W-5 in those things they'll just lock up. Won't leak but you'll not be using that hand for anything but karate chopping your opposition.

Anyway rant over, TLDR next time your stompy death machine needs actual proper work done, and not just entire unit assemblies throwm at the problem, take it somewhere that actually cares to understand the concept of machined tolerances.

[yoku-yukihime]

The "lunar" new year... is that really necessary.... do they really need that, those lunarians? is Our new year not good enough??? Someone should go up there and beat them up. but thats unrelated to my thoughts on the lunar new year i just think someone should beat them up.

[eloquentgod]

and here king remained at the spire's peak, with little else to do by herself except look at the gigantic rift in the sky, almost threatening to pull her in, with how close she is to it.

it probably won't be long now, she thinks. wondering if the other gods will do something about the rift, and about her. the blame of each letter sent to the gods was pinned on her, after all.

[thethirdlotusprince]

How's life as a runnaway?

-SWK 🍑

I don't know, you're the original.

How was it for you?

[scrletrot]

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑, 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐀 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃. though, she always warned the avengers that if she were to cook ... it would be foods from her home, food her mother used to make when she was a child. sokovian comfort food. as long as she had no objections from anyone, a quick store trip around the city usually yielded whatever was needed for the night. & that's what she's going when steve enters, when he inquires of what she was cooking. a pot full of a dark, simmering strew filled with various different vegetables inside. the smell of it filled the kitchen, that & the gentle noise of slower music playing in the background.

@apologizelater asked, " DANCE WITH ME ? "

green eyes had lifted in surprise when he asked, a brow raises as hand continued to manually stir the content of the pot. mouth opens, but nothing comes out at first. then, her wrist is being grasped as steve goes to tug her away from the stove, from the island. ❛ steve- ... no, no. the food will burn ! ❜ despite her protests, wanda smiles & allows him to lead her into the space between kitchen & living. free hand out stretches for magic, extended from herself, can shoot out to magically lower the temperature of the stove. to keep the spoon stirring the stew. eyes return to steve just as hand rests on her waist & other hand takes her free one, ❛ if the strew burns, i'll be sure to let everyone know it was you. ❜ wanda chuckles.

[impinged]

@sponstar !

It wasn't your intention to find them again. So soon. Too soon? That's debatable. Your answer would probably depend on your mood. You didn't expect to see them here though.

It only kind of irritates you. You like this spot. You like the way the sand feels under your shoes, looking out at the boats, trying to seeing something that doesn't exist out over the horizon. This was your spot!! And they're here!! Whatever. You're over it. Not really.

You hide your gaze under the brim of your hat as you approach. Might as well bother them if they're going to bother you!

"Look what I found." You make a show of rooting around in your endless pockets, but you know exactly what you want to show off is. When you're confident your fumbling has them as quietly annoyed as you are, you display a dried starfish, bleached by the sun.

You hold it out in front of you, stretching your arm straight. It obfuscates their face and yours in turn probably, with the distance you have set between it and one another. You tilt it, adjusting it so one of the pointed protrusions covers their eye—the eye that is a darker shade. You're not sure why that eye, but it feels right. You feel more hidden this way.

They didn't want to see you anyway, right? This counts. Probably.

You continue to stare at the starfish, or, excuse you, sea star, as you're sure someone would correct you. You do not regard it with the same strange fondness you felt when you first found it. But the connection is still there. More so now than then you think. If you unfocused your gaze, it'd blur and blend in with the faint glow of their head. Hardly distinguishable.

"It kind of looks like you."

[lunarnoctiluca]

Setting Prompt 007 @stories-from-the-warp

SETTING PROMPT 007: the ruins of an ancient structure lost to time.

❝ Through me... Is the way to the city of woe. Through me... Is the way to sorrow eternal. Through me is the way to the lost below. Abandon... ❞

The Princess' hands are smeared in dirt, gravel stuck between each finger and in the folds of her red palm. It had taken the better part of five minutes to clear the cellar hatch well enough to read, and another five before that to pull the corpses off it. Her tongue moves in guttural clicks and pops, faithfully repeating the inscription in its original dialect: the extinct language of an extinct people, the first colonists of Bela Tegeuse.

It left a bitter taste. She corrects it with a candy. And another. And perhaps one more. Switching to her cleaner hand, she sulkily licks off the sugar as she continues reading.

Even now, when she could no longer remember what age they built this temple before she consigned them both to the fire, the disappointment of having her own creation used for the compliments of Slaanesh lingered —— now, it festered into anger. How could it not? Yet another crop of obscene idiots had sung princely praises in her words, had writhed in that creature's name, and yet again, it had been her chore to send them to their master.

So lost is she in her poetry, she does not notice @stories-from-the-warp is stood behind her until her eyes fall to the last sentence, a candelit shadow upon the floor overlapping her own crouched one. The shock is palpable; she blushes, refusing to turn her head out of sheer shyness, and stretches out her bag of candy.

❝ Ah! My apologies! If I had known I had an audience, I would have read it in Low Gothic... Please, help yourself to a treat... Ahh, how rude of me... ❞

[bledgrace]

🌡️Temperature!   iPhone needs to cool down before you can use it

“useless piece of shit.” dean mutters letting the damn thing fall to the dirty motel floor over the door of the mini fridge.  he’s bare-foot, sitting with his head resting against the cabinet,  long passed caring about the suspicious looking stains on the ratty carpet because it’s just too hot   ⸻  too hot to wear much of anything for that matter.  the only he’s left in are his boxer briefs and even they’re soaked with sweat.

risking a glance to @blednone who is faring just about the same as him:  fucking miserable.  of course the one place they decide to stop at has air conditioning that’s busted.  would’ve been a nice warning before they’d actually paid for the room. “hey,” dean clears his throat,  watching a bead of sweat roll down the back of his foot.

“I think they’re selling bags of ice next door at that gas station.”

[witchkillr]

IT TOOK YEARS OF STUDY TO GET HERE. agatha couldn't say how many - time is a strange, liquid thing, a concoction of mortals' to judge the lines of their existence by, a lens through which to sort the vastness of the multiverse into categories. as she has studied and learned and understood, she has come to the realisation that nothing is so simple. the flow of it slips through her charred fingers like water, and she lets it go.

distance is useful, even as she is in the throes of her plan to correct it.

here, incidentally, is the following place: a small suburban town, somewhere in the northeastern united states. a universe that is not her own, but is similar enough. a home that is also a prison. [ this is not something that has happened to her yet, or possibly ever will. she looks at herself, brought so low, made so small, and the dark thing sharing space in her chest roars. she is angry, too. she would be no matter the circumstance. ]

" what happened to you, my dear? " there is something of the roar in her inflection, a low, growling danger - blackened claws trace the line of her other self's jaw, already charting vengeance. that is to say: who do we need to kill?

plotted starter / @wcrpbubble.

[raijintosworn]

🎄

"Lord Ryoma." Her warning comes too late. Another innocent soul falls to the fatal trap, set by none other than Lord Ryoma's own sister. Mitama can only grimace in quiet sympathy as she gestures towards the hanging mistletoe as explanation. "My apologies, I had hoped to manage to warn you sooner. By all means, please ignore me."

tis the season ; accepting

Ryoma only looks up when Mitama points up at the plant. Ah. Hook, line, and sinker right into a fresh sprig of mistletoe. Two more victims of the little plant.

Traditions or no, he does feel rather odd, kissing Azama’s daughter. At least in the way tradition calls for. She did say to ignore her, but that also felt rude. There has to be some sort of compromise. He pauses for a moment before realising.

“Ignoring you won’t do. If bad luck were to come to you…” Well, what? He can’t imagine Azama being the protective father who kicks Ryoma’s door down to yell at him. Regardless, he does have an idea.

Gently, he tips Mitama head forward, and places a tiny kiss at the crown of her head. He releases her immediately. “There. No harm done, hm?”

[greenmther]

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐎𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐎 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄, to act less than her age. mature by her fathers idea, but she didn't often feel so on the inside. not when she was with rhaenyra, the closest person to her . . her best friend . . the young woman whom she had known for as long as she could remember & whom had some special part of her heart. ( today, the pair had taken a day for themselves . . . no council meetings, no visits to syrax, not other pressing matters. just them spending the afternoon together on the beach this time just outside of the keep. ) alicent with hands gathering light blue skirts between fingers allowing waves to crash against her feet. the damp, salty air has made the fringe of her hair wet & salt tastes in her mouth every time she breaths inward. the moment had been peaceful until alicent gasps at cold sea water being flicked against her face--head turns, smile pressing to lips while shouting, ❛ rhaenyra ! that's cold ! ❜

【 ✧ @perzonye liked for a starter ! 】

[eloquentgod]

i'd say merry christmas, but... I'm not sure if we even celebrate that in the Grove.

[thethirdlotusprince]

ksisjushuwhwuwh, NEZIEEEEEEE I LUV YOUR CHRISTMAS HAT ON YOUR PFP AHHHH 💗💚❤️

Thank you

I was told I needed to be festive for this season

[scrletrot]

𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐅𝐔𝐋, 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐂𝐎𝐌. it was easy for her to drive through town undetected, everyone tucked into their houses like when she had control over them. ( if it had been day time, wanda assumes she would've been run out of a town like a witch hunt. this was better, safer, & she had no intent in disturbing their lives, hurting them, anymore. just one ... one she needed, the only one left in her spell. ) a cruel denial of bodily autonomy, of identity. to be trapped in her own mind where she'd reside until wanda needed her or felt like releasing her---not her proudest moment yet perhaps they could be considered even now ? as easy as it was to drive into town, it was easier to unlock the police departments front door with a single movement of red, magic twined fingers. hand grasps the door of agatha agnes's office, eyes settling on her after so long with a ball in her stomach. expecting the suspision, the startle, wanda raises a hand & speaks: ❛ everything's okay, agnes. ❜ she'd have no choice but to believe her, ❛ i'm not here to hurt you. sit. ❜

﹙ ✦ @tempusde liked for a starter ! ﹚