#— in character.

[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.

[b0kksu]

     he gives you this look, wyd?

[thstrongest]

❛  you're  weak.  ❜

[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?

[islandiis]

[SMS - 3:32AM] have you ever seen in movies where the guy sprays something in his mouth before going on a date? Like an air freshener?

[SMS - 3:32AM] if you sprayed perfume in your mouth, would it taste bad even though it smells good? surely it would taste bad, right?

[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.

[b0kksu]

   He's pondering who would like to be Valentine's while also tempting with fancy sushi dates && maybe dessert after, a total romantic!

[thstrongest]

❛ SO... how much longer are you gonna be mad? ❜

[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 ! ﹚