#Headlamps & Lighting Equipment

[macadam]

Enjoy playing firewatch irl!

The smoke almost took me out a couple times (<- is allergic to pine). Also I have discovered a new hatred for camp stoves

[spikedfearn]

I Said Just a Little Bit, Then I Got a Taste of It

Chapter II

bjorn x fem!reader

summary: After being transferred to another sector of Jackson's Star you reluctantly befriend a ragtag group of people with the exception of one cocky asshole who knows just how to get under your skin.

On the surface, you hate each other, but after experiencing a particularly harrowing event together, the two of you grow closer than anyone else could ever imagine.

warnings: secret friends with benefits, enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol/drug use, sexual themes, non-linear narrative, side rainkay, trauma bonding, near death experience, brief mention of child abuse, more tags to be added

a/n: a slight correction from the first chapter: I realized after I posted that I wrote Kay being under the influence when she runs after you when she is, in fact, pregnant in this au. I don't know how I whiffed that up when it's a relevant plot point to the story (ￗ﹏ￗ) either way though, I went back and edited the chapter but just in case anyone following this story didn't reread it after I made the changes, I wanted to put a disclaimer here!

tags: @asvtrials

wc: 3.3k

Masterlist Next Chapter

You remember the night the two of you first met with a stunning amount of clarity.

It took place a few weeks after your compulsory transfer, a result of the mines in sector two having been exhausted of all its valuable resources, the higher-ups deciding to split the colonists inhabiting it among the other five.

Truthfully, you still don't know how to feel about it. Sure, it sucks being uprooted from the only home you've ever known, forced to live in an alien environment, even if it is just another extension of the same colony.

But, on the other hand, it's sorta nice—starting over. Being relocated to somewhere no one knows you, your story. Able to shed your baggage and leave it behind, only bringing with the clothes on your back and the dog tags of your late mother, the only things that truly matter to you.

You're nearing the end of another one of your shifts, sweat gathered in the folds and creases of your body, watching sparks fly off the hard mineral you're drilling into when the girl next to you yanks down her face shield, narrowly turning away from the rock wall to bend over and vomit in the walkway instead.

It’s not unusual for people to get sick while working, the conditions down here are hazardous and the safety equipment provided does little to protect you from the harsh fumes and kicked-up debris. Still, you sympathize, knowing firsthand how miserable it is to try and push through til clock out time.

However the supervisors do not, one of the men patrolling the area to ensure endless labor shouting, “worker #1693! Why have you stopped working?”

The girl lifts her head in response to being reprimanded, the headlamp strapped to her hard hat illuminating the man looming over her, the head of the drill she was still holding stabbed into the soft earth beneath their feet, using it like an impromptu crutch.

“I'm sorry sir,” she coughs, voice rough from the stomach acid and bile she just spewed everywhere, “it's morning sickness—I'm pregnant.”

A wave of compassion comes crashing down over you, everyone else in the immediate vicinity paying no mind as they continue to excavate, wanting to avoid a scolding of their own. Not that you can blame any of them, insubordination at best results in hours lost and at worst, an automatic jail sentence, the only place somehow worse than the mines.

You want to turn a blind eye like the others but—you can't, feeling guilt gnaw at your conscience. Even in the limited light you can tell she's sick, skin pale and glistening with a fresh coat of sweat, chest spasming as she doubles back over and starts to dry heave.

“Well get back to it, we have a quota to fill!” He orders, growing increasingly agitated.

Almost instantly you find the words, “how long do you have left?” leaving your mouth before you can process what you're saying, watching as she looks back to find you.

“What was that?” She asks, using the back of her wrist to wipe the string of spit hanging from her lip, looking so small and so vulnerable, like she's on the verge of passing out. It's enough to make you commit to what you say next.

Pushing the goggles up and over your helmet and the face shield down and away your mouth to unmuffle your voice you repeat, “how long do you have left? Like—how many hours?”

“Four?” She answers, confused, the same supervisor that had warned her moments ago barking, “worker #1251, why aren't you working?!” The threatening buzz of a shock stick now being aimed towards you.

Four hours. You're in the last hour of your own shift, bone-tired and barely hanging on, adding another four after the fact might actually kill you.

With that in mind you find yourself volunteering, looking between her and the guard ready to taze the fuck out of both of you, “I can pick up her hours. Sir.” You tack on, albeit sarcastically.

Her eyes round out in surprise before the skin between her eyebrows wrinkle in confusion, understandably so. It's incredibly rare for a stranger to show humanity in a hellscape like this, where it's every man for himself.

“Why?” She asks, straightening her back out, hand coming up to cup her still flat stomach.

You shrug despite knowing exactly why, not that you'd share that with a complete stranger, replying, “don't worry about it,” before offering, “because I want to,” instead, hoping to avoid any follow up questions.

A pretty smile breaks out across her face, so big her eyes nearly disappear, turning the headlamp attached to her helmet off to get a proper look at you, “thank you so much. Really. I totally owe you one.”

“Sure,” you say, not intending to cash in on that favor at all. You don't want to owe anyone anything or them to owe you.

It's a dangerous thing—caring about someone or something on Jackson's Star. One of the only valuable lessons life in the colony has taught you. Better to lessen the weight of the emotional impact when they inevitably leave. Easier.

Your eyes follow her as she walks the path leading towards the exit, a cute little skip in her step. You can't help but smile, the muscles in your cheeks twitching at the foreign stretch of your mouth. You don't remember the last time you felt one of those on your lips.

The extra time doesn't end up killing you—which sucks, it could've been your ticket out of here.

Morbid humor aside, you can barely move as you head to the clock out station, summoning the last bit of strength you have to heave the drill up on top of the counter, ignoring the loud clang it makes when it hits the metal countertop. If they wanna dock you for the damage fine, you can't find it in you to give a fuck at the moment.

The lady behind the transparent partition checks your equipment back in, the clacking of the keys sounding loud without the constant drilling, being the last miner to leave.

“Worker #1251. Drill returned, no visible damage to report. Twenty hours logged.”

“Wait,” you interrupt, her fingers pausing above the keyboard, eyes still glued to the computer screen, “the four hours. Could you give them to the girl I covered for?”

She looks at you then, like you're high on the fumes circulating through the tunnels. Maybe you are, because who just volunteers to do hard labor? And for free? That and you still have to come back and clock in four hours from now.

“Are you sure?”

Though you don't hesitate to nod before verbalizing, “yeah,” your thoughts straying to the baby she's growing inside of her, “she’s gonna need the hours more than I do.”

It'll be the last nice thing you'll ever do, because you're never doing that shit again, offering to cover for someone else, for someone you don't even know.

Except—you do.

Because the morning sickness doesn't go away for the next two weeks, no matter how little she eats to try and combat it. And, regardless of the front you put on, you have a heart. A heart and a motive, one you plan to keep close to the chest whenever you step up and tell whatever supervisor nearby that you'll take on her workload only to transfer the hours to her at the end of the night.

Her name is Kay. You learn that after the third shift you cover for her when she comes up to you during everyone's designated lunch break, taking a seat on the bench next to you, far away from the others eating together.

You're reluctant to give her yours, preferring to just be a faceless number among the crowd, because knowing each other's names means familiarity, and familiarity means attachment. And you never intended for that to happen, wanting to just keep to yourself after the transfer but Kay looks a little crushed when you don't give it to her the first time she asks so, eventually, you do.

It's fine. It's just your name. This doesn't have to mean anything.

Except—it does.

Opens the door for Kay to start joining you for lunch, to stand next to you while you're working, to start asking you about yourself, wanting to befriend the angel that's come to her rescue the last few weeks. Her words, not yours.

You don't disclose much, keeping your past private the only thing keeping you safe from heartache. From that type of overwhelmingly raw pain only loss can bring and, while you've done your absolute best to pick up the pieces, you'll never be the same.

Shattered glass can be put back together but the cracks will always, always remain.

Kay seems to pick up on it because she doesn't broach the subject again, choosing to redirect her energy by trying to convince you to come hang out with her and her friends instead.

You reject her offer every time she asks, giving out your name is one thing, socializing outside of the mines is something else entirely, but Kay is persistent, annoyingly so. Begs you to come out for just one drink whenever you guys have downtime at work, giving you the puppy dog eyes while she does it, whining and stamping her foot when you inevitably turn her down.

You're sitting together during lunch one day, on the little metal bench you claimed the first night you started working in sector six, eating the same boring sandwich you make before the start of every shift.

However, for the first time in a long time, you feel good today, well-rested, chalking it up to not covering Kay’s shifts over the last three days.

She's roughly two months along and no longer vomiting on the job site, able to work her full shifts for the last seventy two hours, the worst of the morning sickness seemingly over. You're glad she's finally feeling better, and, if you're honest, a little relieved.

Not that Kay ever expected you to cover for her, you know her well enough now to realize that, can noticeably see the gratitude she radiates every time you volunteered, but you would've kept doing it, even if she stayed sick for the remainder of her pregnancy.

“Sooo,” Kay starts, drawing out the o, playing with the bendy straw sticking out of her apple juice box, “the gang and I are gonna hit up a bar tonight.”

“Cool,” you mutter, already seeing where this is going. It's the same tactic she's used the last dozen or so times she's invited you out. “Have fun.”

Kay pouts, her eyes big and pleading, “you should come with, it'll be fun. I'll even buy you a drink so I can properly thank you for easing my stress for a little while.”

“You don't have to thank me Kay,” you reply between bites of bologna, “I didn't do it for free beer.” A chuckle following after.

“C’moooon,” Kay bemoans, wiggling her shoulders for emphasis, “stop being such a buzzkill.”

“Can’t. That's who I am, Captain Buzzkill.” Your words slightly muffled by a napkin you use to wipe your mouth clean once you finish eating, crumpling it up along with the cellophane and brown paper bag you brought your sandwich in.

“Why are you the most stubborn person alive?” She whines, chucking her now empty juice box into a nearby waste bin.

“That’s probably not true.”

“Well you're up there! Now please just come out with us tonight. For me. And if you really don't have a good time I'll never ask again.”

“Never?” You ask, feeling your resolve slowly eroding away.

Her eyes glisten with newfound hope, nodding her head enthusiastically, “never ever.”

“Fine,” you relent, “but just one.”

If this is what it takes for her to stop bugging you about it you'll do it, just this once. Besides, you can slam a beer pretty quick if you're dead set on it.

You smile and roll your eyes at the squeal she makes, her arms wrapping around you to reel you in towards her chest, hands settling on your bicep, one on top of the other, her fingers creating wrinkles in the fabric of your shirt sleeve from how tight she's hugging you.

You awkwardly pat her forearm, not used to receiving affection, “but just one,” you reiterate. If you're gonna do this you're gonna do it on your terms and your terms only.

“Just one,” she echoes, rocking the two of you back and forth, the whistle of the horn above you signaling the end of your lunch break.

One turns into three.

You had every intention to leave after the first but, as much as you hate to admit it, you are having a good time.

Kay’s friends are cool, nice, having welcomed you in with ease, like they’ve known you for a while. In a way they do, Kay having told them about you, what you did for her. You don't think it's a big deal but they seem to think so, what with the warmth they show you from the outset.

“So you're the angel that's been helping my little sis out!” Tyler, Kay’s older brother, greets you cheerfully, pupils dilated from the alcohol, having already started without you, not that you actually care. “A proper little mutha’ Theresa in our midst!”

You snort at that, waving him off, “not really. She's pregnant. I'm not so, I thought I'd just help her out.”

“Well it's really sweet,” Rain chimes in, more reserved than the others, preferring to let everyone else talk. You can already tell the two of you will get along. “Which is pretty rare to find around here.”

Besides Tyler and Rain, there's Rain’s brother Andy and their friend Navarro. Andy, like Rain, is also on the quiet side, the programming he has installed a little outdated. Though Navarro, the resident techxpert, is working on an upgrade, building a chip out of scrap metal and wiring, she scavenges from the local scrapyard.

You're all crowded around one of the dozen or so tables taking up half the floor, the bar brimming with other colonists, knocking back beers or playing darts, the room filled with the sounds of laughter and chatter blending together. It's not a place you would choose to go on your own but it does add another layer of entertainment when you're with the right people.

“I guess,” you reply, cautiously agreeing with Rain, even though you know she's more than correct. It's just hard for you to accept compliments, you're just not used to hearing them and don't think very highly of yourself to begin with.

You finish off the rest of your drink, pulling your leather wallet out of the back pocket of your jeans to order another, but Tyler is quick to stop you.

“Nah—nah,” Tyler says, his hand lifting off the tabletop to wave you off, “don't even,” he pauses to turn away and burp before turning back around to face you again, “don't even trip. I got your tab covered.”

“You sure?” You ask, hesitating to put your money away. It's not like you all are compensated fairly for your slave labor. That and if you let him pay for your drinks, wouldn't you owe him then? No, you reason in your slightly tipsy state, he's paying you back for taking care of Kay, meaning you'll be even and no one will owe anyone anything.

So—you let him buy you more drinks, slowly but surely relaxing, thanks to the alcohol and the easygoing nature of those around you. It's clear how much he cares for Kay by how he's treating you.

It's endearing, you can't deny that. Apparently Rain and Tyler dated for a short period of time, just under a month before Rain realized she was really into Kay. But, instead of getting angry or jealous, Tyler just accepted it, even gave his blessing since Rain was better than the jerk that knocked his sister up anyway.

It's been a good night—a great one, better than you could've ever imagined, but something always has to come along and ruin it. Life just has a funny way of doing that.

“Bjorn, mate!” Tyler yells over the noise, looking towards the front door with his arm waving in the air, flagging someone over, “over here!”

That someone maneuvers around the crowd, appearing at Tyler's side in just under a minute, a grin splitting his face in two as he takes the empty seat next to him, swiping Tyler’s drink to wash down his excitement.

“Good night?” Tyler jokes, taking in Bjorn’s appearance, currently vibrating on the bar stool he's sitting on, his attention focused solely on his cousin.

“I'm fuckin’ buzzin’ mate! I finally beat that stupid fuckin’ level,” he begins, launching into a tirade about some game he's been playing for awhile, hands coming up to wildy gesticulate as he speaks.

Your eyes are automatically drawn to him, analyzing his side profile while he's distracted. He's attractive, probably one of the most attractive men you've ever laid eyes on. From his under plucked brows to the oceanic hue of his irises, the single silver hoop threaded through his ear and the silly little frowny face tattoo on his neck down to the plushness of his pretty pink lips, framed by just the right amount of facial hair. He's perfect. Perfect until he opens his big fucking mouth.

He finally registers who's sitting around the table, eyes angrily narrowing when he zeroes in on Andy, gaze flickering over to Rain, “why tha’ fuck did you bring this rust bucket ‘ere?”

“Bjorn,” both Rain and Tyler preemptively warn, like they know what's about to follow and they probably do, considering he's Tyler’s cousin. Rain takes the lead on this one, adding, “don’t start.”

“And why tha’ fuck not? Ya’ fuckin’ knew how I'd feel if he was ‘ere! Ida’ just stayed tha’ fuck home,” he hisses, accent made thicker by his anger.

Tyler pinches the bridge of his nose, looking exasperated by his cousin already, “we just wanted to come for a pint mate. All of us. No use losin’ your head over it.”

“Right. Right. No use. Just like this hunka junk synth.”

You’ve never had a filter, never needed one when you've grown up never having to consider someone else's feelings so you can't help but snark, “do you practice being an asshole in the mirror or does it just come naturally to you?”

You feel everyone’s eyes on you, probably taken aback by your intervention, not expecting you, a total stranger, to speak up on behalf of Andy. But—you've never been good at biting your tongue, never needed to when you only have yourself to worry about, overconfident in voicing your displeasure when you're the only one who'll be punished for it, unlike those with familial connections who talk back to the higher-ups.

“And who tha’ bloody fuck are you?” He spits, face souring like he's bit into a lemon, looking you up and down, from the flat tabletop that sits under your breasts up to your hairline.

“Not a piece of shit like you,” you retort, squeezing the unopened beer Tyler bought for you, hard enough to crease the label wrapped around the circumference of the glass.

“So!” Tyler interrupts, trying to change the subject, directing his attention to you, “why’d it take ya so long to come out and join us?”

Kay squeezes your knee under the table and Rain looks grateful, reassuring a somewhat confused Andy that he's more than welcome to be here, that he isn't bothering anyone that isn't a totally immature man baby.

“Not really my scene,” you answer, ignoring the crisp hiss of the carbon dioxide being released when you pop the lid on the glass bottle Tyler bought you.

“Oh! Not good enough for ya’ princess?” Bjorn mocks, still simmering with anger from his side of the table.

“No, just not good enough for you, asshat,” you flip him off, still pissed on behalf of Rain and Kay and any girl that has to interact with him, feeling Kay’s fingers curl around your shoulders like she's trying to stop you.

You decide to let it go, for now, despite how angry you are, for Kay, sticking it out until she warns you it's time to leave. Because other than that—fuck that guy

[robthegoodfellow]

3DPC4EVA

@harringrovezine submission! Billy and Steve take a backseat while their cars get busy. Crack taken seriously. Brace for puns.

Summary: When the Camaro rumbles into the Hawkins High parking lot, she catches the attention of a certain luxury vehicle.

Harringrove, Camaro/Beamer (or Bimmer/Beemer whatever you prefer)

Rated G | ~2.2k (slightly expanded version) | Alternating Car POV

thank you @adelacreations and the rest of the zine team for all your hard work!

~🛞~

A car never forgot the moment it came to—became aware. For PC, it was rounding a bend of the Pacific Coast Highway, to the left a sprawling sea, baked cliffs sloping opposite. And inside… was a boy, death-grip on the wheel relaxing, his stiff back gone slack on a long exhale.

He was gazing at the water, mesmerized. Revved the engine, a vicarious roar—but not of rage.

Exultation.

They meandered north for miles, blue horizon painted pink and red, glittering in the sinking sun. Veering onto a rocky shoulder, he hopped on the hood. Reclined, sighing smoke, until the sky had bruised purple. 

The boy’s mind wandered on the drive back, and PC got a sense of him then—name, where he lived. Enough to nudge reminders before he missed a turn. 

PC learned its own names, too—knew the boy thought of it as a she. Called her Baby. Or sometimes he’d smush the first part of her plate together, PCE, and think peace.

~🛞~

3D didn’t belong here, wasting away parked outside a school. A BMW E23 7-Series? Far more befitting the head of the Harrington family, not his spoiled Lothario of a son.

But no—downgraded months after purchase when the wife gifted her darling husband a Rolls-Royce.

Who could compete? So here it was, surrounded by malformed AMC experiments, rusted-out Oldsmobile barges, decrepit Pintos liable to explode if you looked at them wrong. Oh, and tractors—let’s not forget the occasional farming equipment caked in mud and manure ridden to school for a laugh. 

3D could have borne the shocks without blowing a gasket—it was a high-performance vehicle—but then… then the boy made it his mission to bed every girl in town. And 3D had spacious seats. Spacious and luxurious: black leather, gleaming wood trim—not that the paramours would notice, too busy humping while 3D stared out its headlamps at the lake or the trees or wherever it could fix its attention that wasn’t the pair of humans copulating all over its pristine interior.

Finally, the boy hitched himself to a girl with standards, one who preferred privacy. Granted, that relationship coincided with some rather strange occurrences—early on, the boy sped off to a remote property with faulty wiring, lights berserk, and ran inside to much screaming and cacophonous violence. 3D was certain that menace would emerge grievously wounded if he emerged at all, and do you know how hard it is to get bloodstains out of leather?

Well, 3D didn’t, either, but it was bound to be impossible.

Anyway—despite that bizarre hiccup, the boy seemed happy, and so too was 3D.

Happy its rear bench was a Motel 6 no longer.

~🛞~

The blistering hurt he'd stoked from San Diego to Indiana—this despairing, gnashing fury—had simmered to a low-grade pang when PC rumbled into the Hawkins High parking lot, blazing past milling students.

Billy slammed the door—pat the handle, apologetic, before striding off. Max wheeled away on her skateboard.

Though PC was facing the school, she wasn’t limited to staring dully at the brick. Sky through her windshield, a side-view out her windows, the lot behind via the tail lights. In no time, she’d taken stock: not too different from back home. Less pervasive rust from salty air, fewer finishes sun-bleached pale pastel… and the crusty tractor was new… but a parking lot was a parking lot.

That’s what she repeated, again jerking her focus from a gleam in the next row. A BMW—PC had a weakness for German makes. Her first crush was a cute Volkswagen bug that belonged to one of Billy's surfer buddies, but the Beetle couldn’t hold a candle to this burgundy beauty—shining in the sun, the lines of its hood so proud, so pert and compact compared to PC. The appealing rounds of its double headlamps, spider eyes on either side of those distinctive kidney grilles. Like bared teeth.

The plate read 3Ds46T2.

Its wipers twitched, annoyance loud and clear. What?

PC barely reined in the startled beep, hot underhood. But then—well… what else to do when caught so blatantly staring?

She flashed a taillight, a quick, cheeky wink, and the headlamps across the way flared—a bright flush, though brief, firmly repressed.

Didn’t want to push it—the blush perhaps more embarrassment than pleasure—but when she risked a glance, 3D was looking back, intrigued. 

At final bell, PC blared both taillights, a last gambit—and her fan belt fluttered when 3D’s wipers swept a wide arc. A farewell.

Half-expected to overheat on the way back to the new house. Like all the coolant in the world couldn’t help her.

~🛞~

A showy, brutish Camaro Z/28 wouldn’t typically warrant more than an irritated huff of exhaust, but a car like that had never been bold enough to… flirt? Just brazenly wink for the whole lot to see, gazing like you were the most riveting object in existence.

It was… well, flattering, obviously—a Camaro was a handsome make, whatever its faults—but more than that, it had thrilled in a way 3D couldn’t shake. So next time the boy pulled into the lot, it gently nudged the wheel, willing them to the front where PCE 235 was sitting pretty.

Maneuvering to park next to the muscle-bound stunner took more of a push—enough to trigger a frown—but the boy rarely fired on all cylinders. He shrugged it off.

3D never dreamed it could be so forward, but the Camaro didn’t mind. Quite the contrary: as the school doors closed on the last straggler, 3D spied its neighbor’s window cracking open. A loaded quiet—then the soft static of the radio searching for a station. Odd squeals, a cut-off twang, belt, chorus, then—

—too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off you. Pardon the way that I stare—there's nothing else to compare.

An earnest crooning Oldie, and—it was like its undercarriage had bottomed out on nothing. 3D flushed hot as a busted radiator. 

If you feel like I feel, please let me know that it's real. You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off you.

Seeming to sense its struggle for composure, the volume lowered until the song clicked off. The window rolled up, parted lips closing, and the wheel spun, nervous. Crunch of gravel as the front tires turned its way: Your move.

3D choked, butterfly valve sealing shut. The boy’s tastes weren’t exactly varied. Hardly strayed from the local channels piping nonstop Hot 100. But the silence would soon ring of rejection, so it powered the radio, scrambling, poised to blindly crank the dial and hope for the best—

Miracle of miracles. Rushing to open a window, it lowered all four, silently thanking Hump Day Hits of the 60s.

—thought love was only true in fairytales—meant for someone else but not for me. Love was out to get me—that's the way it seemed. 

Spontaneity sparking, it left the windows down. Let the whole lot hear! What did it care what they thought?

Then I saw her face! Now I'm a believer. Not a trace of doubt in my mind…

Last bell, after hours of trading silly ditties, their batteries were dead, and 3D was in love—felt drunk on diesel, sappy sentiment gumming up its engine.

PC. How wonderful, those two letters. And a she. Fascinating.

Their drivers were baffled at both needing a jump—a much remarked upon coincidence. Waiting for their cars to revive, the boy made awkward small talk with PC’s human—a blond ruffian who smoked like a chimney.

The boy asked the ruffian—Billy—if he was going to the Halloween party later.

Billy was.

“See ya there, man,” he said, tapping 3D’s roof. It would have cringed at the fingerprints left behind, if not for a more pressing thought.

It would see PC that night.

Perhaps all night.

~🛞~

Billy was nervous—PC could tell by his fidgeting grip, Metallica blasting. Odd outfit, too: leather jacket, shirtless, with fingerless gloves.

He parked behind 3D, no encouragement necessary. Before he’d even disappeared inside the pulsing house, PC waved her wiper, overeager but suddenly—shy.

They seemed to mutually agree not to drain their batteries again. Instead, at the risk of coming on too strong, PC reached out with the nebulous consciousness linking her to her body, linking her to Billy… until she felt a psychic bump. Not enough to dent. Just… alert.

She’d never done this—gone beyond basic flirtation—but something about 3D made her bold… and maybe Billy’s loneliness, the aimless despair bubbling under his skin since the move… maybe that had bled over more than she’d realized.

A bump, and she almost ignited her own engine, so intense was the bolt of excitement. 3D was reaching back, willing to open to her—

She had no idea how much time had passed, so submerged in their mingled selves, when Billy stumbled against her with a grunt, a slurred curse. The icy jolt must have transferred before she cut off to focus on the problem sagging at her door—a problem she knew too well.

Billy unlocked her after a couple tries, more falling than sitting in the driver’s seat. Shoved the key in the ignition—groaned when the engine wouldn’t start.

“Not tonight, baby—I’m fucking fine.”

She remained unmoved, even as he slumped, forehead knocking on the wheel.

“Just start! We’re three streets away, for fuck’s sake.”

An insistent bump—so unrelenting that she reconnected, conveyed through images, flashes of memory, that this was just something they did: Billy would drink too much, and she wouldn’t start until he was sober. But that only triggered a renewed wave of concern, a series of impressions in return: pulling over to assist a family broken down, the kids shivering in the chill evening air of autumn; 3D’s human, breath misting, joking with a pretty brunette about drinking until they were warm, the girl informing him that booze made you more vulnerable to frostbite.

But… it wasn’t nearly cold enough for that, right? Although what did she know? It had taken ages to warm up this morning. How cold was too cold?

Maybe Billy would just… go back inside the house. Or she could—start the engine but jam the accelerator? Or—

Billy jumped when 3D’s horn blared, obnoxious in the still night, its headlights flashing with each trumpeting blast. 

Not a minute later, PC understood in a burst of gratitude: 3D’s human trotted from the house. He would help. Flinging open the door, she spun her wheel, sharp.

A grunt, and Billy spilled onto the pavement. “Bitch.”

The alarm died with a chirp. “Hargrove?” 

Billy sighed, flopping backward. “Fuck off, Harrington.”

Harrington did not—kept coming until he towered, hands on hips. Prodded Billy with a curious foot.

“You wanna be roadkill, or what?”

Bratty snort. “Or what.”

“Well, in the interest of not scraping you up tomorrow, how about I drive you home?”

Billy propped himself on elbows. A hum, considering. “Pass.”

PC resisted whacking him with the door. From his expression, Harrington felt much the same.

“Take you to mine, then.” Stooping, he stuck his hand out, waiting while Billy curled his lip, rolled his eyes—finally took the hand.

3D’s lights beamed worry as Harrington started the engine, Billy safe in passenger. PC twitched a wiper—shoo—and settled in by the curb. Small price for peace of mind.

~🛞~

At some point between disappearing into the Harrington house and emerging in the early dawn, something had happened—3D couldn’t begin to guess. The surly quiet of last night now buzzed like coins in a cupholder. Glances darted, never meeting.

3D resisted cranking the radio to drown out the awkward. Or redirecting the beads of condensation cutting through the misted windows so their dewy paths spelled HELP.

It rumbled with relief to see PC, glistening in the gloom, right where they’d left her.

“Last night,” Billy said, as they rolled to a stop. “We—it can’t happen—”

“You scared?” The arched brow was bluster, his frame rigid with nerves.

“You dumb?” Sneered it, scathing.

He was dumb, 3D would vouch for that, but the boy only glared. Billy huffed, paired an eye roll with a shake of his head, reaching for the door. 

A lesser vehicle would’ve missed the other hand pounce across the console, but 3D fogged the windows just in time.

No one saw the driver yanked sideways by the shirt, arrested by snarling lips pressed to his own—or the hands that grappled in reply, cupping cheek and chin, fingers sinking into hair.

No one saw, but PC knew—was practically dancing, wipers waving, front wheels pivoting left and right. And usually 3D would sigh, resign itself to rounds of necking and worse, but it couldn’t muster the fumes.

Because it would put up with anything—happily, no matter the wear and tear—for more time right here, sharing PC’s air. 

Since keeping one meant keeping the other, this would be no fling. Not if 3D could help it. 

What was it humans liked to say? 

My way or the highway.

~🛞~

Read on Ao3

[casualsnickers]

Month of Emmet Quick Write #13

Prompt #13: Stars

All working trains need their maintenance to function. It's essential. Emmet knows this, but between making sure Ingo is thriving and between maintaining his own public appearances, Emmet has completely (and intentionally) ignored his safety checks. For months. Drayden is not pleased. Neither is Ingo. Both hatch a little plan of sorts to begin the necessary maintenance needed.

Read the whole thing below the cut.

Boots clambered over stones. Headlights shone in the dark, twin beams focusing on a massive lump of electromagnetic crystals growing out of the cavern floor. 

“I believe we should be in the main chamber.” Emmet carefully stepped into the ankle-high water, watching his reflection waver as he started toward the crystal growth. 

Behind him, Drayden coughed, ducking his head to avoid a lagging stalagmite as he earnestly followed after his nephew. “Slow down. You don’t know what’s under the water.”

Water sloshed around Emmet’s boots, the sparse light sending pale reflections onto his caving equipment. He was careful to scan the clear water around him, making sure that he didn’t accidentally disrupt any colonies of Tynamo swimming around in the water. “I am Emmet. I know this cave like I know the controls on the inside of an R46.” Emmet passed one of the growing crystals, waiting diligently for his uncle to catch up and place his hand on his shoulder. “I have known this place since I was a kid.”

“Don’t remind me of how old you are,” Drayden huffed. His hand remained steadily on Emmet’s shoulder, carefully following along as the younger led him quickly through winding stone corridors where Boldore shuffled along, their topaz and citrine gemstones glittering in the lights of the two men’s headlamps. “Are we nearly at our destination?”

“Almost.” Emmet reconsidered the cave and briefly shut his eyes, figuring out his exact location within the narrow confines of Chargestone Cave. His uncle had specifically asked him to escort him to a point deep in the depths of the cave. Drayden had mentioned that a buddy of his had been wandering through the cave some time ago and had accidentally dropped his things in a pit, Drayden offering to go and retrieve it for him. And by that, Drayden meant that he would drag Emmet with him.

That was exactly how Emmet had found himself being excused from work for three whole days on a whim against his will. The days had been given to him using Ingo’s signature. Ingo, who had already made plans to cover his shifts. Ingo, who was only just getting used to being an administrative boss again. Inwardly, Emmet grumbled to himself. I am going to be very behind on paperwork. He clenched and unclenched his jaw. Ingo has to perform alone. Not good. And I don’t believe I asked Ramses or Cloud to cover for me while I’m away. 

All Emmet wanted to do was finish up with this retrieval mission and hurry back to the station to ensure that Ingo was performing safely. Not that he didn’t trust his brother. That wasn’t the issue. It was the concept of Ingo being alone at the station, the very same basic circumstances that had led to Ingo disappearing all that time ago. Was it unreasonable? Slightly. But the faster he found the items, the faster he could return back to his brother.

Just before Emmet, Eelektross floated leisurely at the forefront, their bioluminescent scales flashing as they swiveled their head this way and that way, excitedly recalling certain geologic structures and splashing through shallow puddles. Galvantula was right behind them, chittering incessantly as it poked its legs into tiny holes, finding entertainment in putting drops of water in the fuzz on top of their head, the wild Joltiks copying them step-for-step.

Emmet found himself smiling tiredly at their antics. It has been such a long time since I aligned tracks with my two pokémon in this manner. He watched as Eelektross playfully splashed Galvantula with water, zipping away into the dark cavern as Galvantula tore after him with a loud squeal. It’s nice. To return back to where my journey began. To see Eelektross and Galvantula so happy and carefree. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten them out of the routine. It’s nice that they’re enjoying themselves.

Emmet stilled when he spotted an unnatural light illuminating an upcoming cavern. He reconjured the mental image of the cave map, frowning. We are deep underground. The electromagnetic crystals glow but they are not supposed to produce such a high level of illumination.  He held up his hand to signal Drayden to stop. “Caution is needed,” he warned quietly. “Something is not right here.”

“Such as?” Drayden peered past him, having not brought any of his own pokémon along. “Do you have an idea of what could be making the cave ahead glow?”

“No. I have not a clue.” Eelektross and Galvantula had both already entered the glowing cave and Emmet couldn’t hear a single noise from either of them. Concertedly, he called out for both of them, anxiety twisting in his gut when he didn’t hear a response. Water splashed around his shoes, the cave floor dipping lower until the water came up to Emmet’s knees. “Uncle. Did you set up the rope behind us for an easy return shuttle back to the third floor?”

“Of course I did. This isn’t my first time exploring.”

“Just checking.” Emmet proceeded further into the icy water, sucking in a breath when the water rose up to his thighs. “I am… unsure where we are,” Emmet admitted. “This cave is supposed to be dry; not wet. There shouldn’t be any risk of flooding. None that I know of at the very least.”

Drayden was quiet for a moment. “I think we should keep going. See what’s making all that light. See where your pokémon went off to, most importantly.” Drayden then set a calming hand on Emmet’s back, steering him forward. “Don’t worry too much about your pokémon, nephew. You trained them well. I’m sure they’re just running amok bothering the locals.”

Emmet clicked his tongue, playfully shoving the man. “My pokémon are well behaved.”

“Your Archeops is banned within the Mistralton air space. I’m considering banning it from the Opelucid air space as well.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I could,” Drayden muttered, stroking his beard.

Emmet only shook his head and stepped into the glowing cave. He then gasped, turning off his headlight.

Chargestone Cave was seldom ever bright but as Emmet stepped through the receding waters, he walked right into a blinding beam of moonlight, the waters around him crystal clear to the point where Emmet could see the bottom of the massive pool. Electromagnetic stones floated over the water in loose rings, schools of Tynamo swimming and diving and zipping along the trails of stones in one dazzling array of intricate scale flashing and tail flapping. Joltiks swarmed the walls, their webs glittering in the light of the moon making patternless constellations of thread and pebbles and water droplets.The call of an Unpheasant could be heard clearly like the peal of a bell, ricocheting around the cavern and settling deep into Emmet’s bones.

Emmet angled his head upward, catching sight of the night sky far overhead and with it, a dizzying amount of stars around a full moon. “This… what… moonlight?”

Drayden moved past him, settling himself on a boulder. He chuckled upon seeing Emmet’s reaction and in the blink of an eye, had taken a picture using his Xtransceiver. And when Emmet still couldn’t find words to ask what exactly was going on, Drayden motioned toward the spot on the stone right beside him. The moment Emmet clambered over, Drayden reached over and ruffled his hair. 

“You know… I was lying. My friend never visited this cave. There’s nothing to retrieve here.”

Emmet started forward. “You? Lying? To me?” He was too transfixed on the natural beauty of Chargestone Cave to be annoyed, his eyes adjusting to the silver light that bathed the cavern and most importantly, the fact that his pokémon had seamlessly blended in with the wild pokémon the whole time. But then, after revelling in the change, Emmet’s irritation at having his entire schedule upheaved caught up with him. His eyes narrowed and he scowled. “Why? Why did you bring me here then? I have a lot to do back at the station and at home.”

Drayden met Emmet's questioning gaze, reaching into his own pack to take out… a sandwich. “Had to come up with some excuse or another to get you on your own, nephew. I know you like this place, so I figured I would make up some tall tale to get you to come with me.”

“I understand that, but why lie to me? You could have just… asked me… to come here with you. Instead of completely ruining my schedule for this week. Now I’m going to be behind in work.” Emmet then blinked, his irritation being replaced by worry as he climbed off of the rock, glancing down the way the two men had came. “I will prepare the tracks to depart immediately- “

Drayden stopped him in his tracks by reaching out and grabbing the back of Emmet’s waders, easily holding him in place. “You’re not going anywhere. We only just got here.”

“I have responsibilities, uncle,” Emmet retorted. “I have to get back to them immediately.”

“Sit back down, Emmet. Your brother is handling them as we speak.”

“Ingo?” Emmet burst out, the idea making him even angrier. “Ingo is only supposed to be working on administrative duties. He is not authorized to make any repairs to the station’s engines in my stead- “

“But he is authorized to have your team of mechanics work on them while you’re away. Sit back down.” And when Emmet angrily relented- he couldn’t just abandon his passenger as much as he wanted to- Drayden reached into his pack again and pulled out another sandwich, handing it to Emmet. “It was all a ruse. I just wanted to spend time with you, nephew. It’s rare that I ever have time to visit you boys between my responsibilities as the mayor of Opelucid and of course, a part-time Gym Leader. But I figured- working with Ingo- that I could arrange for us to go on a trip.”

“...You wanted… to spend time… with me?” Emmet asked weakly as if the concept was almost foreign to him. Nobody ever really invited him to places or outings just by himself. It was always both him and Ingo. Paired together. Inseparable. And the idea that Drayden had specifically requested time to drag Emmet away- solely Emmet- befuddled him. “Why? Why not Ingo as well?”

Drayden held no humor in his tone, his eyebrows furrowing at the weakness in Emmet’s voice. “You’re my nephew. I want to spend time with you and only you right now. And you’re spending too much time gravitating around your brother. I’m beginning to think that you’re overvaluing him over yourself.”

Hearing Drayden’s words stung him like accidentally touching a live wire, causing Emmet to recoil. “I’m not… doing that. What gave you that idea?”

“You look terrible, nephew. You’ve got bags under your eyes, your hair’s a mess, and from what Ingo tells me, you hardly sleep or eat. Your brother may be missing a few memories but he’s still as sharp as he used to be. We all clued into it: that you need some time away to focus on yourself.” Drayden shuffled on the stone, handing Emmet another sandwich. “You’ve been running nonstop ever since Ingo returned. He’s had his time for maintenance. Now it’s your turn.”

“I don’t need maintenance. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. If you were fine, I wouldn’t have had to work with Ingo behind your back to get you here. Every other time I’ve asked to borrow some of your time for a chat or get you to come somewhere with me alone, you’ve always come up with some kind of excuse to keep an eye on your brother or bring him along. But now that you’re here, the only thing you can focus on is getting back home. And here I thought you’d be excited. The moonlight only ever reaches this deep into Chargestone Cave on the winter solstice.”

“...Oh.” Emmet didn’t quite meet Drayden’s eyes, fiddling with his hands in his lap. It still didn’t quite make sense to him. Emmet didn’t really believe that he had much to offer alone. He was the quiet twin, the one that didn’t speak much and the one that… Emmet inwardly flinched. He wasn’t necessarily the most popular between himself and his brother. He had known it for quite some time. 

“Hrmm. Haven’t got much to say?”

“I… well… that’s… fine. That’s fine.” Emmet stared at the water pooling around his boots. Had he been taking care of himself? He was… barely eating. And most of his work had been centered around caring for his brother. Emmet blinked. When was the last time he had really done something for himself without lumping Ingo in? He racked his brain, unable to figure out the last time he had taken time for himself. 

“I also lied about taking three days off.”

“...What?”

“I had Ingo sign you out for an entire week,” Drayden spoke easily, handing Emmet yet another sandwich. “I bought us tickets for a train convention in Galar- the origin of steam engines and the oldest train tracks in the world. Something like that. I also have other things planned in nearby Kalos. We’ll be visiting the Kalos Power Plant for a certain activity- you’ll like it, I’m sure. Oh. And I also wanted to take you to the Kalosian Subway System.”

Emmet’s face withered. “Why that of all things?”

“To see your reaction of course. It’ll be fun. Just the two of us. So just focus on yourself. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“...You will? Are you sure- “

“Absolutely. You deserve time to yourself, nephew. Now stop worrying and enjoy the view. You’ll have to wait another year to see it again.”

“...Right.”

[tagsecretsanta]

From @gumnut-logic

From @gumnut-logic to @gordonthegreatesttracy

Prompts:

Gordon Tracy - living legend, the true story of my Olympic triumph as told by me!

The worst day of Gordon's life.

Stranded on a dessert (not a typo! Bring on the cake) island.

It's not obvious which prompts are making it in because this is just part one of four. Christmas lead up was totally insane so the rest will have to follow after. I hope you enjoy this part in any case ::hugs::

Oh, and language warning. Gordon gets ticked off.

-o-o-o-

Gordon crossed his arms and flipped out of Thunderbird Four, into the dark depths of the Southern Ocean.

The underwater observatory was little more than a shadow at these depths. The South-west Australian continental shelf was a threatening cliff disappearing both above and below.

Gordon might have been miffed at the siting of the habitat, but these were his kind of people - marine scientists delving into multiple lines of enquiry, from pollution through to shark migration in the Leeuwin Marine Ecoregion.

As he swam closer, his headlamps lit up external sensor equipment equivalent to the average aquanaut’s dream. Thunderbird Four was, of course, far superior, but this…this was seriously cool stuff.

Too bad it had no power.

Likely had something to do with the massive boulder sitting on top of half the structure.

“Thunderbird Two, we have containment breach. Looks like a nasty landslide. Poke Johnny and see if there might be any aftershocks? I don’t feel like being pancaked. Check for tsunami threat, too.” He scanned the airlock and found it working and secure. Good. A good, old fashioned wrench with his hands and the lock creaked open.

“FAB, Thunderbird Four. Five is way ahead of you. Quake epicentre has been located and John is monitoring. No tsunami threat at this time.”

“Thank you, Thunderbird Two. I am entering the habitat now.” He sighed with relief when the automatic pumps kicked in and drained the airlock and released the far door. They had emergency power at least. The tension in his shoulders relaxed just a little. At this depth, any power was a sign of hope.

The lack of communication was still a major worry. Johnny had not been happy at all. Worse, he had trouble getting any lifesign readings. Gordon was going in expecting the worst.

He thumbed his external comms as retracted his flippers and he stepped into a deserted, poorly lit hallway. “Seabold, do you read?”

The same silence that Two had received on approach. All Five had was a single shout for help and then nothing.

“Anyone, Seabold Observatory, can anyone hear me? International Rescue, responding to your call.”

Left or right? Dull strip lighting went both ways. He pulled up the base plans on his HUD. Command was to the left.

So he went left.

It was eerie. Windows were few and far between and the darkness, likely broken by strong external lighting on a non-disaster day, was oppressive and unrevealing.

And there was no-one.

“I repeat, anyone aboard Seabold, do you hear me?”

“I hear you! Oh, thank god!” And there was suddenly a guy just there, in Gordon’s face.

The aquanaut yelped and jumped back a step.

“International Rescue? You’re here to save us?” A helmet hid their face and the emergency yellow of their drysuit obscured any identification.

But Gordon was a professional. Yes, yes he was. “Yes, we’re here to help. How many of you are there?”

“Four in total. This way!” The figure turned and ran, leading him down the dark hallway.

Gordon followed at pace. Only four? There were supposed to be almost fifty. Gordon had been following this project in his journals. It was a fantastic venture. He had intended to see if he could visit sometime, maybe take Sam or even Penelope. She would have loved this project.

“Only four?”

“Fortunately, it’s Christmas. Just about everyone is on leave. If it wasn’t for Mary, we would have left with the rest of them.”

They turned a last corner and hurried through an open airlock and into a large room.

There was no doubt this was command. A good-sized window leaked darkness on one side, and on the other…there were three survivors huddled around a console.

“Mary! International Rescue are here to save us!” Two of them looked up, hope in their eyes. None of the three had their helmets on, though they were clearly in their emergency suits. The third was fully focussed on the control panel before her. “Mary!”

“Not until we release Betty.” She punched a few buttons, glaring at the console as if to set it on fire.

“Betty? Who’s Betty?” So five rescuees.

Mary, a dark woman, almost as dark as the ocean outside, glared at him. “I’m not leaving Betty. It’s our fault she is here.” The bulkheads above them creaked as if in warning.

Okay, they needed to start moving. “I repeat, who is Betty?”

The helmeted figure beside him animated. “A great white shark.”

Gordon blinked. “You have a great white shark captive?” Was that even possible?

“Not captive.” Mary was glaring at her instrumentation. “She’s was only supposed to be in the pen for a matter of minutes, enough for a tag and GPS relay. If this damned rock hadn’t…goddamnit!” She thumped the console. “There’s no power!”

Gordon’s lips thinned. “Show me.”

Mary looked up and frowned at him a moment before waving him over. “She’s there. On the far side of the complex. The pens escaped damage, but their power has been cut.” She grabbed his arm. “If we leave her, she will die. She can’t get out.”

Gordon was doing calculations in his head. “Thunderbird Five, I need to know the power requirements for the facility’s pens.” Before John could ask him what the hell he was talking about, he threw him a scan of the details on the console.

Pens weren’t in the original plans for this project.

Moments later Eos returned the numbers he needed. Yes, if he plugged Four in to this port, spliced a few wires to give John access to these systems, they should be able to get the gates open.

“Okay, we’ve got this. We’ll rescue Betty. But first I need you four in Four.”

Four puzzled looks.

“My Thunderbird, we need to get you out of here.”

“I’m not leaving Betty.” Mary’s stance rooted to the floor.

“Mary, you have my word that I will do my upmost best to free Betty.” He put everything into communicating his sincerity. “I promise.”

“If she stops swimming she will drown.”

“I know, there’s a qualified marine biologist under all this rescue equipment. I get it, I do. But you’re first.”

For a moment he feared she might refuse, but… “You can do this?”

“I can, but I need you safe first and we’re wasting time.”

Her eyes closed as if in prayer for the briefest of moments. Under her breath, “Okay.”

“Are you the only four aboard?”

A single nod as she reached for her helmet. “The rest are on Christmas leave. The four of us stayed back to shut the base down. We were supposed to depart tomorrow, but then Betty turned up and it was the perfect opportunity…until the quake.”

He gathered the four of them like ducklings, each fastening helmets as they moved. Mary looked back at the console one more time, but was then all business.  “I’m the leader of the expedition. She gestured as they moved down the dark corridor towards the airlock Gordon had used earlier. “That’s Joseph, Joshua and Ralph…” She pointed to the tall, helmeted man who had initially startled Gordon. “He’s our deep dive specialist.”

Didn’t hurt to know that. Gordon approved. A small smile in her direction before they finally reached the airlock. Fortunately, it was big enough for all of them at once and checking individual equipment at speed, Gordon was grateful to get a comms connection with all of them. The lack of contact prior still sat eerily in the back of his mind, but it would have to wait. In any case, when the outer door was cranked open and they were freed to the sea, Gordon only felt relief.

Four sat not far off, her lights and brilliant yellow glow a beacon in the darkness.

For once, there were no rescuees sporting any injuries, and this was a group of professionals in their element. Definitely his kind of people.

“Thunderbird Two, I have four rescuees. We are returning to Four. There is a fifth rescuee who needs attention before we surface.” Did Virgil need to know he was rescuing a great white shark?

“FAB, Thunderbird Four. Any injuries?”

“None reported.” With all four aboard, he activated the pumps that would drain the airlock. His heart beat to the throb of his ‘bird at work.

As the inner airlock opened, he gestured a little grandly. “Welcome aboard Thunderbird Four, best little sub on the planet. Please keep your helmets on for safety. We will get underway shortly, but first we need to go save Betty.” A smile and he caught Mary staring at him. He gestured again. “Please take a seat and secure yourselves.”

He eyed them as they locked themselves in. Once set, he flipped himself into his cockpit and with a flex of his wrists, launched them off the ledge.

Four’s spots broke up the darkness as he darted nimbly around the partially destroyed habitat. They lit up crumpled living quarters and…his sensors spat static for a moment before clearing again. “What the hell?”

He didn’t have time to think twice as the pens abruptly came into view. It became very clear why the setup was not on the original plans. They were obviously jury-rigged, a collection of giant cages.

In one of them a huge shark was swimming in circles.

Under his breath, he cursed. “Mary, what the hell are you doing out here?” He flicked his comms. “Thunderbird Five, are you getting this?”

“Affirmative, Thunderbird Four. Recording.” The frown in John’s voice was satisfying to hear.

“Keep at it, Five. I need to go save me a shark.”

“Gordon?”

“Got one more rescue. Won’t take a moment.” And it shouldn’t. He brought Four around and activating one of her arms, pulled up her external connector and plugged her into the system. “Five, you should have control.”

“Receiving.” That frown in John’s voice was getting deeper.

“Can you release the hatch?”

“Working.”

It was Gordon’s turn to frown.

“It’s receiving and acknowledging commands but I can’t get a positive response. Give me a moment. Eos, could you please give me a hand?”

Gordon waited, staring up at the trapped shark. Stats on the vulnerabilities of great whites spun through his head. No-one had ever managed to keep one of the huge hunters in captivity, much less in such a confined space for an extended period of time. Getting her out was a major priority. He could understand why Mary was so…determined.

“I’m sorry, Four, response is negative. We can’t get the hatch open.”

He had already done the calculations. Four was too big to fit between the tangle of cables and cages.

“FAB, Thunderbird Five. I’m on it.”

“Gordon, that is a very large shark-“

“Yeah, isn’t she beautiful?”

Virgil cut into the conversation. Gordon had been wondering at which point he would get the predictable mother-henning on the issue. “Gordon, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Saving someone who needs help.” Holding up his arms and leaning forward, he triggered the command for his exo-suit. The robotics unfolded from the cabin walls, fastening the selected kit to his drysuit. A moment later, he crossed his arms and flipped out backwards through his airlock.

As always, the water welcomed him. A swift kick with the ultra-long flippers and he was flying towards the cage.

“Gordon, I don’t like this.”

“Calm down, big bro. Betty’s cool, aren’t you girl?” Floating outside of the cage he was dismayed to discover that he hadn’t been quick enough to prevent injury. Betty’s snout appeared to have borne several impacts with the cage bars. Goddamnit, Mary, what were you thinking?!

“It’s okay, lovely, we’ll get you out.” Balling his right fist, Gordon deployed his laser sword. Well, Brains called it a U-cutter, but ‘laser sword’ was so many kinds of cooler.

The metal bars holding the gate didn’t stand a chance.

Steam boiled off his cutter and he was ever thankful for the exo-suit’s extra protection. A slash or two and the gate fell away. He retracted his sword.

And was faced with the sharp end of a very agitated great white shark.

There was only a split second of realisation before Betty swooped past in a panic, her pectoral fin catching him and throwing him into a spin chaotic enough he couldn’t avoid her tail.

He had one moment of gratitude of being missed by her mouth only to receive a solid whack to his mid-section which sent him flying. Before he could curse himself for being too stupid to move out of the way fast enough, he slammed into another of the cages and something in his back…

…cracked.

Fuck.

His body locked up in pain, the focus radiating out from his lower back, up his spine and around his ribcage.

Oh god.

He couldn’t move. Everything hurt oh so much. A litany of profanity bounced around in his head.

Fortunately, Betty didn’t seem to care. She didn’t even look back as she darted out past Thunderbird Four and into the darkness.

Gordon began to drift in her wake.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

The water pushed him deeper into the mess of pens and all their connecting cables.

Okay, calm. You are fine. You’ve worked through this before.

Just not in the middle of a rescue.

His shoulder brushed up against one of the cages and his back flared. He cried out.

Goddamnit! Now was not the time for tears in his eyes. They blurred his vision and he couldn’t rub his face.

“Gordon?” Virgil’s voice was worried.

“Hey, Virgil.” He did his best to keep the gasp out of his voice. His medic brother had sixth, seventh and eighth sense when it came to injury.

“Thunderbird Four, report your status.”

Shit.

“All good. Just taking a moment.” How much could his brothers read off his suit sensors? Did Virgil have a ‘Gordon has triggered his long-term spinal injury and is in some serious pain’ indicator amongst all those buttons on his dash?

No. His brother had probably just noticed his lack of movement.

Movement.

Movement would be nice.

And a warm bath.

A bucket of medication wouldn’t hurt.

He was still drifting away from Thunderbird Four. Now was not the time to regret not including his propulsion unit with his exo-suit this time. He really hadn’t had to swim very far to reach Betty. Not far at all.

But now Thunderbird Four was so, so far away.

He couldn’t stay here.

“Gordon, what’s wrong?” Virgil’s voice was soft and the ever-caring big brother, despite the mission at hand.

“I’m good. Betty has been released.” And? Virgil didn’t need to ask for Gordon to know the next question. “Heading back to Thunderbird Four now.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Four.”

Was Virgil convinced? Gordon hoped so. If he couldn’t get out of this stupid predicament...

His slow drift brushed him up against another cage, but before he could collide with it proper, his fingers wrapped around a bar and he brought his drift to a halt.

Pain flashed through him. Shit.

Harsh breathing and the pumping blood in his ears.

Four so far away.

Fuck.

-o-o-o-

TBC

[hirocimacruiser]

Finally got myself a brochure for the Autech Zagato Stelvio based on the F31 Nissan Leopard with bodies shipped to Italy for Zagato to fit the custom bodywork.

"This car was born as it was meant to be. His boundless passion for car building and never-ending challenges have brought the far-flung distances of Milan and Chigasaki closer together. Zagato is a prestigious carrozzeria representing Italy that has produced many famous cars. Autech Japan is proud of its outstanding technology. Here, the biggest dream ever comes to fruition. Its form has a double bubble (two cups) roof shape, a traditional Zagato technique, and has a delicate, detailed beauty that can only be expressed by handcrafting. Its timeless and overwhelming presence will never fail to give endless excitement to all who see it.

The engine and chassis are wrapped in the most beautiful and exciting form. It must naturally have its own outstanding performance. V6 3 liter twin cam turbo engine carefully and thoroughly tuned by Autech Japan. Its overwhelming power performance is a true luxury that can only be afforded to ultra-luxury Gran Turismos. Only the finest materials have been carefully selected for this high-performance interior. Made with high-quality genuine leather and carefully selected wood materials, it exudes a sophisticated atmosphere that can only be achieved by handcrafting. "Stelvio" was developed with the aim of being the best in everything. Limited production of only 200 units."

■EQUIPMENT

●Fully automatic air conditioner

●Power drivers seat

●Auto light system

Projector headlamp

●Audio system (cassette deck/CD player/AM/FM electronic tuner/BOSE speaker system)

●ASCD (Auto Speed ​​Control Mechanism)

■Body color & interior color

Italian Red / beige

dark blue metallic / beige

dark gray metallic / beige

silver metallic / black

black metallic / black

Stelvio

The name of the highest mountain pass in Europe, at 2757m above sea level, heading towards the Alps. This mountain pass, part of the Ortres Mountains, is famous for its steep slopes and more than 50 unimaginably tight curves. It is the setting for many famous races, including the "CORSA ALLO STELVIO".

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

for the prompt game #72 4 & 7 along with #75 7 withhh minho and reader please? from these chaotic prompts i imagine something mysterious or spooky or scripted pranks or all of the above lmao. but i’m curious to see your take on it 👀 have fun!

SKZ PROMPT GAME

Prompts: "Hang on, hang on, I have the perfect playlist for this scenario-" "Now is not the time!!!"

"You're incredible." "Aw, thanks!" "Not a compliment, babe."

"It's quiet. Too quie-" "HELLO?? IS ANYONE IN HERE?!"

Member: Lee Minho

Relationship: Ghost Hunters FemReader x Minho

Genre: Crack, Mystery, Thriller

Warning: Smoking, Ghosts(?), Haunted Places, Probably Illegal Activities 😂

"You're slowly killing yourself, you know." You announce, side eying your boyfriend as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette.

Minho rolls his eyes, but keeps his attention on the road, fitting the cigarette between his lips, the hand not currently on the steering wheel patting around in his coat for a lighter.

"Yeah, so you've told me before."

You lean out the open window, letting the cool, night breeze blow your hair back.

"Just trying to keep you safe, babe." You remark back sweetly, closing your eyes as Minho turns off the main road and onto a darker, more rugged one that leads into the trees.

You feel his gaze on you now, full of judgement and disbelief.

"She says, as if she doesn't drag me off every weekend to look for ghosts and break into abandoned shit holes."

You shrug, leaning back in the car to fiddle with the music, turning up the hard rock until it can be heard over the whistling wind.

When you look at Minho, his cigarette burns bright red between his lips in the blackness of the car's interior.

You bat your eyelashes at him and make a kissy face, as he clearly makes a face of disgust and tosses his cigarette out the open window.

"Thanks, babe, for always coming with me to look for malicious spirits and doing all the hard work-like driving and bashing in doors and shit."

"Yeah, Yeah." Minho mumbles beneath his breath, flipping you off affectionately, as he rolls the car to a stop in front of your destination. "Get your shit. We're here."

You squeal excitedly, turning to dig in the back seat for your bag full of equipment, and when you emerge again with a headlamp strapped securely to your forehead, and a camera in hand, Minho stares at you like you've just grown a third head.

You stare right back. "What?"

He shakes his head slowly. "You're incredible."

"Aw, thanks!"

He moves to open his door, letting out a long, clearly tired sigh.

"Not a compliment, babe."

He gets out, and you follow him, hurrying to catch up to him as he stuffs the keys and his hands into the pockets of his jacket, looking up at the deserted building looming out of the darkness before you.

Distaste crosses his features as he takes in the rotting door hanging off its hinges and the crude graffiti sprayed across what's left of the crumbling brick entrance.

"God, this is even more of a shit hole than your usual places." He turns to you, arching a brow. "Remind me how you found this place again?"

You shrug, walking forward a few steps to kick a piece of rubble out of the way to the door.

"Some stoner kid at school."

"Sounds credible." Minho grumbles sourly beneath his breath, following you to the entrance, as he lights another cigarette.

You glance over your shoulder at him. "C'mon, sour puss. This'll be fun."

"You and I have very different definitions of the word fun, babe."

You stick your tongue out at him and turn back to the building, raising your old camcorder as you turn it on and make sure the video is focused.

You scan the video across the outside of the building, taking in the grafiti and the crumbling facade.

"Ooh, Min, look at those boobs someone painted. Those are nice boobs."

Minho snuffs his cigarette out beneath the sole of his converse and pushes past you, entering the building.

"Oh my god, let's just get this over with."

You grin, following closely behind him.

"You're supposed to say 'not as nice as yours, babe!'" You tease over his shoulder, taking in the large entrance hall of what supposedly used to be a mansion, swinging your camera around to capture the area as you walk.

Minho rolls his eyes, and steps around a puddle collecting in a hole in the rotten, wooden floor.

"Aren't ghosts supposed to like the quiet or something?"

"Are you telling me to shut up?" You sass back, leaving his side to film an old, shattered mirror still hanging on one of the walls.

Minho scoffs. "I dunno, would it work?"

"No."

Minho sighs and moves around you to push open the next doorway, revealing a sort of sitting room, a dilapidated piano collapsed in the corner.

You step forward, trying to see if any of the keys make any noise still, and Minho kicks aside a loose piece of flooring with a clatter.

You glance back at him after your perusal of the piano, and he motions toward the staircase you passed with a jerk of his head.

"Upstairs next?"

You nod, readying your camera. "Yeah."

Minho ascends first, testing each step to make sure it will hold your weight, and you follow him, using the miniscule light from the camera to guide both your footing.

When you reach the creaky, narrow second floor landing, Minho's fingers tighten around the banister, and he cocks his head, as if suddenly listening.

You almost run into his back at the abrupt stop, peeking around him to see if there's something there.

Nothing.

"What?" You whisper, glancing around him again.

"It's quiet. Too quie-" He starts to mutter back, eyes narrowing.

You step around him and call out, hands around your mouth to make your voice echo, "HELLO?? IS ANYONE IN HERE?!"

Minho immediately slaps his hand over your mouth, giving you a glare.

"There could be a hobo living in here, waiting to murder us!" Minho hisses seriously, fingers pinching your cheeks.

You both wait in breathless silence.

Nothing but the old sounds of the house and the remnants of your voice echo back to you.

You lick his palm, and he pulls his hand off your mouth with a look of disgust, wiping his hand on his pants as you arch a brow and smirk at him.

"Pretty sure if we were going to get murdered, babe, we would have been so by now." You remark back casually.

You step past him, headed to the first room.

Minho grumbles something under his breath in response, but you hear him follow you after several seconds anyway.

Entering the first bedroom, you sweep the light of the camera over its contents, landing on an old, worn baby doll lying on the bed in the corner, staring at you with large, dark, button eyes.

Behind you, Minho shivers. "That is creepy as shit."

"Yeah." You agree quietly, stepping forward, and picking up the doll, even as he lets out a little squawk of protest from the doorway.

You turn it over in your hands, studying it, before setting it back down and nodding, meeting his gaze.

"Definitely haunted."

Minho lets out the breath he had been holding and narrows a glare on you.

"You literally have no sense of self preservation, do you?"

"Nope." You reply, popping the p past your lips, grinning, as you step out of the room and back into the hallway, taking his hand. "C'mon. Let's explore the rest of the rooms."

The rest of the upstairs is uneventful, and eventually, Minho drags you back down to the bottom floor and out onto the porch, claiming he needs a cigarette, and that he's not going to light it up in this 'deathtrap of rotting kindling and ancient

As he leans against the railing on one side of the porch, shaking ash over the edge, you move to the other, peering over the side into the brambles of the overgrown front yard.

You sigh, propping your chin up on your hand, and glance up at the gathering clouds, covering the stars.

"Looks like it's going to rain." You remark, kicking a crumbling edge of the railing off the porch, sending it careening into the bushes.

Minho snorts and takes another long drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke slowly out through the part of his lips.

"Great. Another way to make my night even more miserable."

You glance over your shoulder at him and grin, and he arches a brow at you in challenge.

"Okay, so there were no ghosts. This location was a bust." You turn, leaning against the railing, crossing your arms over your chest, holding his gaze. "But, at least we got this super creepy doll out of it, right?"

You reach into the duffle bag where you hid the doll, and hold it up toward Minho.

He goes pale, scrabbling back to get away from you and the toy, dropping his cigarette in the process.

"Fuck."

You laugh, creeping toward him, arm still outstretched, teasingly wiggling the doll as you pitch your voice higher.

"C'mon Minho. Play with me! Playyyyy with meeeee!"

Minho bats your hand away with a scowl.

"Babe, get that creepy fucking thing away from me right now or else I'll-"

Minho's threat is cut off by the sound of something rustling in the bushes around the side of the house, and you both freeze, his eyes going wide.

"What was that?" He breathes out, fingers clenching around your forearm, the doll forgotten.

You glances into the darkness, but can't make anything out.

"I dunno." You whisper back, creeping closer to the railing, as the noise sounds again, closer this time. "We should check it out-" You start to say, but Minho is curling his fingers around your arm and dragging you off the porch, hauling ass back to the car like a mad man possessed.

"No the fuck we should not." He shakes his head, dragging you behind him, practically running now. "We're getting the fuck out of here."

Your duffle bags thumps heavily against your back, and you stumble over something in the dark trying to keep up.

You glance behind you, back at the house being swallowed back into the darkness, and you swear you see eyes, watching you leave.

Minho jangles his keys in the door of the car, finally getting it unlocked, and shove you into the passenger side, shutting the door with a slam, before he scrambles around the front and gets in behind the wheel, already shoving the keys into the ignition as the car roars to life.

It promptly sputters out before he can shift into gear.

"Fuck." Minho swears, jiggling the keys, pumping the gas a couple of times frantically. "Stupid, piece of shit, c'mon!"

He messes with the keys, and you glance out the front windshield, but can't see the house anymore.

Or the eyes.

As Minho tries and fails to start the car a second time, you reach into the bag at your feet, searching until you come up triumphantly with your phone in hand.

"Hang on, hang on." You announce, reaching for the AUX cord, even as Minho swears again and finally gets the car started. "I have the perfect playlist for this scenario-"

"Now is not the time!!" Minho blurts out, slamming the car into gear and backing down the old mining road at a breakneck pace, his glare whipping back and forth between the rearview mirror and you.

You shrug, settling back into your seat as Pink Floyd begins to blare over the old car's speakers.

"I dunno. I kinda dig some theme music in times like this."

Minho looks at you with absolute shock and disbelief, reaching up to tug at his hair in exasperation as you reach the main road and your headlights find the path back to town.

He lets out a hoarse, completely humorless laugh tinged with a scoff.

His shaking fingers find and light a cigarette from his pocket.

"You're gonna kill me way faster and sooner than any cigarette ever could, babe."

[chrisairgames]

Thousand Empty Light (TEL) Playthrough, #1

In September 2022, I playtested Alfred Valley's Thousand Empty Light. Haus of Valley created a gorgeous physical object, an innovative Semiotic Standard Oracle system, all set during a treacherous plunge to an abandoned research station at the bottom of an alien sea.

Imagine my astonishment when Alfred created a storyboard detailing my character's tense entrance into the research station! After all this time, I'm finally posting the play-through in its entirety, week by week. I hope you enjoy the adventure of...

Lamplighter Tammy Brunhilde

Fair Warning: I roll far, far too often for Stats/Saves in this playtest, much to the detriment of Tammy (though honestly, it was very fun and tense).

Letter of Last Resort

My dear loved ones, I must leave you. My total {Admin use} is not in vain for I have helped build a greater future. I want to say thank you for everything. I will always be with you. Tammy Brunhilde, 12/09/4022

Caisson (West)

Tammy turns back to make sure the entrance is properly sealed. She scowls at the P-U bot’s repetitive, boring chattering, and takes the Letter of Last Resort from its simple clamper hands. The pressurization is uncomfortable, especially in the ears, but not worse than Colonial Marine “Special Maneuvers” training. Or the real thing. The stinkbot takes her to the personnel lift, warning not to confuse the small obviously human-sized one for the fuck-all huge cargo elevator.

“What kind of people do they hire for this job who’d think that was for a person?” she asks the wheeled robot, as it wobbles alongside her, one tire flat. The bot drops into a litany of Company jargon and she wishes she’d have kept her mouth shut. She takes out a cigarette, lights it, kicks the bot aside when it gives her lip about smoking, and gets into the elevator.

Semiotic Standard Oracle: Interference (confusion/obscurity)

The trip down is claustrophobic and eerie in its silence. The ocean deadens all sensation. Lack of light too. Worse than being in space. When the lift doors open, the power in the room is fluctuating, lights flickering.

SAN Save Target 25, Roll: 24

The MemoComm terminal fritzes static, unresponsive. Tammy turns on her flashlight to navigate the room to the generator.

Athletics/SPD Target 42, Roll 83. Roll 1d5 Damage: 3 DMG

Semiotic Standard Oracle: Storage (reliability/utility)

Tammy trips over torn up locker units that have come unattached from the walls. The raw shredded metal catches her Fatigues, and tears through, scratching her shin. The cut isn’t serious, but her fatigues are ruined.

She looks through the trashed lockers and finds a Diving Bell (reskinned Vaccsuit). Deeming this better equipment, she changes into the Bell, though grumbling about it slowing her down. Using the Bell’s headlamps and her flashlight. Tammy takes in her surroundings, noting the location of power systems, and tries to discern what happened here.

Military Training/INT Target 45, Roll 70

But the darkness and disarray is too chaotic. If she had more time to commit to this, she might understand what or who had done this, but that shit’s above her pay grade. Still, doesn’t portend well for this job.

The Power Systems aren’t too terribly fucked, luckily. She decides to take her time, as they really can’t be bothered by Hazmos bitching about the landing Section being all fucky.

Ind Equip/INT[+] Target 45, Roll 97/11. Critical Success.

1d20 Hazards: Bud

Bud Instinct Check Target 70, Roll 85

Quickly, Tammy finds the culprit: Nesting within a breaker-server is an owl. Clearly bionic. It doesn’t seem to notice Tammy. She reboots the breaker-server, knowing she only has [1d5] 3 minutes before the power wakes (maybe zaps? didn’t get a great look at what it’d done with its nest) the owl. They hightail it to the decontamination corridor.

Athletics/SPD[-] Target 42, Roll 12/45

Just before the lights come on, Tammy slips over a pool of blood from...

1d20 Hazards: Unidentified Leviathan-Class Cephalopod

Fear Save, Target: 40, Roll: 80 (lol, was going to have the lights zap Bud if I passed)

The lights come on, and Tammy sees her feet tangled in the axe-severed tentacles of some sea-monster still wrapped around a strangled Lamplighter. She screams and then hears a hooting screech from behind.

Panic, Target 6, Roll 11.

The bionic owl swoops into the open floor of the Caisson, and Tammy rushes to get behind and close the contamination doors.

Bud Instinct, Target 70, Roll 76

Tammy seals the door in time to see the bionic owl swoop back out, its steel claws gleaming in the light. 

MemoComm

Western Caisson in total disarray. Some sort of fight. Found remains of giant tentacles, and a Lamplighter. Didn’t have time to find their ID because a bionic owl, nesting in the generator rooms, came after me. I had to run. Moving on to the actual job now. Section 1…

Section change Panic Check: Target 6, Roll 13. All good.

Stay tuned for the continuing adventures of Tammy Brunhilde, Lamplighter...

[robloxstruggles]

royale high blackwood manor (shooter minigame) tips

hi everyone, idk how much the Greater Royale High Community (tm) knows this stuff or how much people have figured it out, but i know a few friends haven't so im making a guide full of tips some of my friends have found useful.

blackwood manor is, with a little aim, EASILY the fastest way to farm candy (and for me the most fun). i've written this guide assuming that the player doesn't have much experience with the shooter genre at all just so i can cover all my bases.

THIS IS NOT A CANDIES GUIDE. it's a gameplay guide + analysis that may result in you getting more candies. all screenshots in this guide were taken on graphics setting 9.

this post includes:

what i consider the best FPS setup

how to see

some thoughts i have about how projectiles/enemies work

cosmetic tips

a tl;dr because it's too long

LASTLY, A DISCLAIMER: this is helpful for ME!!!!! if you have another system that works for you, feel free to share! this is not an attack on how anyone else plays the game or a presumption that i am the best royale high blackwood manor gamer, it's just a bunch of things i've found that my friends think is helpful.

how to play as an FPS the easiest way + visibility tips

DON'T PLAY ON MOBILE. i mean someone out there is gonna prove me wrong by being awesome at this game on mobile but i've heard nothing but complaints from mobile users playing this game. i have no clue how it handles on xbox. i play on PC with mouse and keyboard because it's how i play most shooters.

royale high has the shift button mapped to sprint, so playing as a TPS, you'll be right clicking and dragging a lot *or* toggling shiftlock all the time. FPS is the way to go.

when you zoom in, you may be met with your gun blocking your screen like this:

the surest way i've found to get rid of this is to use the "ninja" or "crawl" walkpack. it's under animations -> walk packs. if you're unfamiliar with RH, note that you have to jump or walk to reset the walk pack. here's the FPS view for ninja, then crawl, both idle and when fighting at a standstill:

the main benefit to using crawl is that the gun is basically never visible, even when running and shooting, because it's below the HUD. this means you're never gonna have it blocking your vision. but when you look down, you're gonna see your RH nickname, since it's in front of your first person view sometimes. you can get rid of that by resetting your RH nickname to display your normal roblox display name, but the RH nickname is such a big social part of RH that idk if that's a benefit unless you really, REALLY can't handle seeing the gun shake.

that said, with ninja equipped, your gun WILL be in view when running and not shooting... so it depends on your preferences.

(i also suspect that you may have slightly less range with crawl. but i also suspect that is not actually an advantage in this minigame. more on that later.)

the elder animation is also pretty solid, but the takes up a lot of the screen when shooting. here's that for comparison.

lighting tips

now you have to worry about seeing. it could be my monitor settings, but i see better WITHOUT the night vision goggles. (you can turn them off if you have them equipped in case you want them just for the looks.)

when i first wrote this i swore by the headlamp - but i turned my graphics settings down and noticed the effectiveness of the headlamp entirely depends on your graphics settings. to summarize:

on settings 1 and 2, it's so muted i can only tell it does something looking at my avatar. it hardly projects onto the environment at all.

on 3, its brightness is slightly more noticeable, but still pretty terrible.

on 4 and above, the spotlight is much clearer and it has a noticeable effect on the environment around it.

luckily, there's another way to make the environment glow that's fairly effective at all graphics settings: items designed to emit a nondirectional glow. this includes things like candles, lanterns, etc. a lot of wings i thought would do this don't; dewdrop mist does for some reason but it only helps a little. the items i listed will be the most effective, and they're best with the light source set to white. this will largely just help you with your immediate surroundings (i.e. running into a wall) but it does help. on graphics settings 1 thru 3, this is your most powerful option.

if you don't have any, there's a new item this royaloween that emits a good glow: the pumpkin wand. equip this and change the colors however you want, but make the light itself white. if you don't have the item, google a guide for royaloween 2023 chests and it'll be in there.

two warnings: 1) it'll look in third person mode on your avatar that stacking tons of glowing items adds more glow, but in first person mode i don't know if they help much. 2) not every item that has a bloom glow effect will emit an actual light source anywhere near your avatar.

top: just the headlamp. middle: headlamp + Nightmare Cavern Lantern item. bottom: headlamp + Nightmare Cavern Lantern + Pumpkin Wand.

the game is always gonna be super dark appearance-wise, which is actually one of my least favorite things in a shooter. most of my navigation is done by just knowing the map, which is kinda unfortunate.

some combat thoughts i've had

the game is definitely designed to encourage you to seek out the ghosts. they can lose you by moving through walls, but they move at roughly your own walking pace. and while you can't go through walls, your bullets can. this means when they go through a wall, you can sprint to find them in a reasonable time frame, all while shooting at them.

your gun shoots a projectile which travels a short distance in front of you in an arc. i THINK the projectile is actually dealing damage to the ghosts, because shooting something out of range will miss if the projectile goes below it but your cursor is on the ghost. it also feels like the damage isn't dealt until the projectile lands on the ghost, so there's no invisible instantaneous damage arc.

this means you can arc your shots by firing them higher. if you haven't played a game where this is important, this means taking advantage of how the arc from the gun is shaped. if you aim slightly higher than the target, you can hit a target further away. if you've played a game with a bow and arrow, like botw/totk, you've probably done this. the same thing applies to this game.

that would be really useful, BUT!!! the ghost-sucking mechanic also encourages you to follow them. it can be REALLY tempting to stand around getting arc-snipes on the ghosts, but that means when it's time to capture them, you're across the map from them fighting your way thru dark walls trying to close the distance and someone else will get the ghost! you'll still collect candies for shooting the ghost, but you can collect even more if you suck them. plus, the timer means for some ghosts, you REALLY won't capture them alone unless you start immediately.

so when is arcing shots useful? simple: the biggest ghosts. the ghosts all hover about the same distance from the ground, and the ghosts with the highest XP are the tallest. these ghosts are going to attract a lot of players. if you want to get the most candy out of them, you NEED to be pumping damage into them. so if you can't pursue it and maneuver thru the map at the same time, it can be beneficial to hang back and aim at it from far away, THEN close the distance once it's almost time to capture it.

i think this is clever not only because "big ghost = more HP" makes a lot of sense if you've literally ever played a game before, but because their height encourages players to arc their shots anyways. the highest HP ghosts are the easiest to aim at from a distance. the tall skinny ones take a little more aim, but they're still easier to hit at a distance not just from the bigger hitbox, but because it encourages you to aim in a way that maximizes your range. pretty cool, huh?

just remember, if you've never played a shooter before: at range you need to aim ahead of the target with slower projectiles like the ones in this game.

also: the distance your gun travels is DEFINITELY dependent on how high it is from the ground. your range feels like it's HALVED when using crawl compared to ninja. this means the ideal way to play the game seems to be to equip super high heels and then use an animation that keeps the gun away from your vision.

cosmetic tips

save an outfit with the goggles and/or headlamp and you'll be able to use them year-round. i've been using the goggles all year this way. here i am wearing an outfit in royale high with them. second pic is to show you that the headlamp still works!

you can change the colors of the headlamp and night vision goggles. the night vision goggles even support patterns on the metal part. adding a pattern to the glowing eyes will make them stop glowing.

the headlamp will equip an average color if you try to use a pattern with the band. using a pattern or a dark color will cause the glow effect on the item to stop working, but the light emitted to the environment doesn't appear to depend on the color you select for the headlamp at all. ugly combination of the two for demonstration:

if the headlamp doesn't go with your outfit, the skull crown layers really fantastically over it. it'll look like the skull is glowing.

and, of course, combining that with the ability to change the colors of the lamp/goggles, you basically get custom glowing skull this way:

my favorite combination for the night vis goggles is the breathe me mask. this is a super unpopular outfit item, but it works really well with the halloween gear. when it glows, it blocks the bulkiness of both items and only the lights show through. equipping a dark color or pattern will let all the details show through. both effects are super cool for a sci fi vibe.

but honestly, i will put these goggles over ANYTHING.

in conclusion:

FPS is the best way to play the minigame. it gives you the most aim control while moving. if RH could map sprint to anything else TPS might be viable. but right now it's not. to play FPS, make sure you've got an animation equipped where the gun isn't in your face.

SAVE AN OUTFIT WITH THE EVENT ITEMS SO YOU CAN USE THEM ALL YEAR. THEY ARE FREE and if you play sunset they are SUPER HELPFUL IN SPACE/SCI FI THEMES.

equip a glowing item with white light to help you see.

happy hunting!

[sudriantraveler]

Scary Jack Frost

Ok, so as many of us know, railroading in the snow sucks! On top of that, recently I’ve been thinking a bit about locomotive folklore, and I think I’ve come up with a sufficiently intimidating idea for the locomotive version of “Scary Jack Frost”.

A giant rotary snowplow with a gaping maw of long jagged icicles, and a tender full of snow. From its funnel belches not smoke or steam, but storm clouds for a massive blizzard which trails in its wake.

This depiction is not worldwide. It is most commonly associated with engines in the United States and Canada, particularly on lines such as the Colorado narrow gauge railroads which deal with particularly aggressive winters in which there have been many major struggles against the snow throughout history. This version of Jack Frost is by no means only found within North America however, a similar version can also be found in Scandinavia, Russia, and even in Scotland, as well as pretty much anywhere else where the winter months are often particularly brutal.

Scotland is somewhat of an outlier from the rest of the UKs railways, whose engines generally describe a somewhat tamer in appearance but still respected/widely feared interpretation of Jack Frost. This interpretation is a snow-white engine with a face surrounded by spikey icicles. Often it is said that their mouth contains icicle teeth as well. This is thought to be something carried over from the rotary snowplow interpretation described previously.

Incidentally, the subject of the Thomas and Friends episode Jack Frost did happen on Sodor, albeit with several differences from its TV adaptation (James’ terror was much more than Alec Baldwin’s narration implies for one thing).

While visual interpretations are different, the powers and abilities Jack Frost is credited with usually remain the same (though there is occasionally still some variation). As well as creating blizzards, they are said to leave behind a trail of ice, making rails slippery and freezing points and signaling equipment. Their whistle is often associated with cold howling winds, and their headlamp, far from being a source of a warm glow, brings a biting chill which is said to leave a coating of frost on anything its cold light touches as well as freeze diesel locomotive’s fuel and extinguish steam locomotive’s fireboxes.

Personality-wise the locomotive version of Jack Frost runs the gauntlet from being a sinister force to a troublesome mischief-maker to even occasionally a heroic figure, in which case they might freeze points to divert engines away from avalanches or other hazards or, in an act that is seemingly in contradiction with the rest of their description, protect engines left out in the cold from the worst of the winter weather. The latter interpretation is the most uncommon amongst locomotives however, with the most common interpretations generally being considered bad news for any engines to encounter.

As a final note, the previously mentioned incident with Percy and James is not the only notable time the subject of Jack Frost has come up on Sodor. Henry claims that after his Kipper wreck, as he was fading in and out of consciousness waiting for help to arrive, he could’ve sworn he saw a snow-white silhouette of something like an engine in the distance on the tracks ahead. He claims the figure disappeared shortly before the breakdown gang arrived, seemingly vanishing into a flurry of snowflakes.

[roxannarambles]

Title: The Bloodmoon Graves (Part 6/7)

Summary: Nemona learns about the rumors of a fabled "Bloodmoon Beast" and decides they should all go for a camping trip out in the Timeless Woods to search for it. They end up finding a bit more than they bargained for.

(See Ch 1 for tags & other info)

Chapters: Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Epilogue

The teens had definitely settled on a plan: run away. However, they did take a few extra moments to arm themselves with various bits of Arven’s cooking equipment that had been scattered in the woods. Arven also had an excellent idea for the piece of rope that had been left in his bag; he tied it to each of them to form a safety train, since it was so easy to get lost in the fog otherwise, especially while running. Arven was in front, then Penny, then Juliana, Nemona bringing up the rear, the rope hanging loosely between them.

“Everyone ready?” Arven asked, adjusting the headlamp stuck to his forehead and looking back at the group. They all nodded. The mournful cries of the wolves still echoed from somewhere unseen. Arven told them quietly,

“Okay then. Keep up, we all need to stick together. And keep an eye out for anything tricky as you move. Let’s go.”

They started walking briskly, Arven guided by his phone’s GPS, Mabosstiff walking right beside him. It seemed absurd to Juliana that since they’d all been separated, it had only been around an hour– but apparently it was true, only a bit past 3am by now, according to Arven’s phone. The fog was still as thick as ever and the air was frigid; the little light from Arven’s headlamp bounced as he walked and didn’t light up much in front of them, since the fog just reflected a lot of the glare back at them. Nevertheless, Juliana concentrated on what little they could see around them. Arven had given her a bottle of Max Repel they’d found, so she would spray the air every so often as they moved, hoping it would help. It wasn’t much, but it was worth trying, and at least it made her feel like she was doing something. 

Which was definitely a comfort she needed, because it sounded like the wolves were closing in all around them. Juliana didn’t know if her ears could be trusted, though, since they’d played tricks on them before. She exchanged some nervous glances with Penny and Nemona, and Mabosstiff gave an uneasy growl.

“C’mon, keep moving, don’t pay it any attention,” Arven muttered to them, pushing them to keep up the brisk pace. Juliana squared her shoulders and did her best to do as suggested, ignoring the strange, distorted shrieks, telling herself to just keep moving, just keep moving.

A number of minutes passed and the howling around them slowly died down, until all they could hear was the crunch of their shoes through dead leaves and their nervous breaths. They seemed to be making steady progress, Arven occasionally muttering directions and words of encouragement. Juliana felt her body slowly relax a little, since it felt like their plan was working and they’d snuck by the worst of things.

None of them noticed the wolf that silently materialized from the darkness like death itself, jaws reaching for Penny, until it was practically upon her– but Mabosstiff noticed, jumping onto the larger canid with an angry snarl, pulling it back just in time. Penny shrieked in surprise and Arven turned, ordering,

“Get ‘em, boy, Crunch!”

 The two dogs tussled for a minute, but Mabosstiff quickly gained the upper hand and latched onto the wolf’s neck and bit down hard. The wolf seemed to melt after the attack, its body turning back to tar and its bones crumbling away. They stared aghast for a few moments, Penny stammering,

“D-did he j-just . . .”

“It’s okay, that happened to the one I smacked too, that’s just how they faint! I think,” Nemona whispered, trying to comfort her. Looking impatient, Arven seemed about to chide them, but then he suddenly yelled,

“Mabosstiff, there!”

The pokemon leapt to intercept the second wolf that had appeared in a wisp of ghostly energy. The hefty Dark type used his greater weight as leverage, shoving the wolf down and aiming another Crunch with precision. Soon the wolf had melted down just like the first, the tar seeping back into the earth. 

Purple lights flickered in the darkness around them. 

Arven assessed them quickly and then shouted,

“We can’t fight them all, come on, we need to go, go!”

They broke into a run, just as several more wolves Shadow Sneaked directly into their path; Arven smacked one with the hefty frying pan he had, stunning it, and Juliana yelped, jamming down on the Repel nozzle and spraying it about wildly as they ran past. 

“Hurry, this way!”

They charged up a small hill and into a stand of trees, but the wolves weren’t giving up easily– they began to fire volleys of purple bones at them, the air humming dangerously with the sound of their approach. 

“Keep your heads down–”

The bones sliced into the trees around them, sending sticks and branches tumbling down on them like wooden shrapnel. Arven cried out warnings, using his pan as a shield and trying to yank them all out of the way of danger, but Juliana stumbled and slowed them down. She heard Nemona cry out her name in warning, and in the next moment, Nemona had lunged forward and smacked at a falling limb with the sauce pot she had as a weapon, like she was taking a full-powered tennis shot– it bounced the branch away enough to avoid crushing Juliana. 

“C’mon, I got you, let’s go!”

She helped pull Juliana to her feet and they kept running, while the wolves continued firing shadow bones, the projectiles spinning and flashing all around. When they cleared the stand of trees, Arven turned back briefly, calling to them,

“Everyone okay? C’mon, just keep–”

“ARVEN!”

One of the shadow bones had reached the end of its path and looped back around like a boomerang, and it was now careening through the air directly for Arven’s head. He barely had the chance to even turn his head and look, eyes wide.

With a bellowing bark and a mighty leap, Mabosstiff sprang up and caught the bone mid-air, landing and crushing the shadowy bone in his jaws. 

“Holy crap– Mabosstiff– good boy, good boy! I haven’t seen you do a jump like that since you were a pup!”

He pet the dog for a moment as he praised him, but there wasn’t much of a chance for them to catch their breath. Nemona warned them,

“They’re still coming, we better move!” They could see the swirl of Shadow Sneak from the nearby stand of trees, the wolves trying to catch up to them. Arven said,

“All right, let’s go! Don’t worry, we should be fine as long as we keep ahead of them!”

A flock of startled Noctowl took off as the group charged on ahead, sloshing through leaves and pinecones, stamping through the underbrush. Arven’s phone, their guiding light, led them to a lower part of the woods with fewer trees, which made running a bit easier.

“I think we lost ‘em!” Nemona eventually called from the back. Juliana glanced behind, the pokemon little more than a distant twinkle of purple behind them. She could hear them howling.

“They gave up! Good,” she said. She definitely preferred the wolves just sitting there howling instead of chasing them. 

“Don’t let your guard down, there could be more,” Penny said warily.

Arven agreed,

“She’s right, keep your eyes peeled. We don’t want–GYAH!”

His sentence was cut short when Penny suddenly grabbed hold of his backpack and yanked, sending him stumbling to the ground. He apparently hadn’t noticed the strange void on the ground he had been about to step into. A wolf rose up from the hole and Penny jabbed at it with the BBQ fork she had– the wolf snarled and snapped at it, clamping down with its jaws. While Penny tried to wrest the fork free, the wolf was sufficiently distracted for Mabosstiff to easily leap in and strike, fainting the pokemon.

“Case in point. Watch the ground,” Penny said once the wolf had melted away. She prodded at the sticky ground where the void had been, but it seemed solid again.

“Hey, it’s not my fault I have to occasionally check the GPS and make sure we’re still headed the right way,” he griped, climbing back to his feet.

“I think the ones that are howling might be warning the others,” Nemona put in, looking around them cautiously. 

“Oh, great,” Juliana sighed.

“Not much else we can do but keep going then, c’mon. And watch the ground for black voids!”

They kept racing through the woods, doing their best to watch out for traps while still going at a decent pace. They managed to spot several more suspicious voids in the ground and steer clear, and then the terrain began to slope upwards as they traveled. 

Eventually they came to a clearing. Arven checked his GPS again.

“We should be getting close now,” Arven whispered, glancing back up and looking around carefully. It was very quiet in this part of the woods, which Juliana took as a comfort. At least, she tried to, but the silence was unnerving in its own way. It was still better than the howling, at least.

As they trudged forwards, the outline of a large body of water appeared within the fog at the center of the clearing. Arven’s expression crumpled into confusion.

“What? That shouldn’t be here. What . . .”

At first Juliana feared the worst– that the GPS was messed up or they got entirely turned around somehow– but as they came closer, she quickly realized what it was.

“No, it’s okay, Arven, that’s just one of the tar pits!”

He blinked at her,

“I’m sorry, what?”

She clarified,

“Remember, I told you I saw a wolf coming out of one earlier. I dunno where the pits came from, I know it’s weird, but, it doesn’t mean we’re lost. I think, anyway.”

He seemed to struggle with her explanation, which honesty was fair, since it’s not like a giant lake of tar suddenly appearing in the middle of the woods was a totally normal occurrence.

“Is this the same one you saw earlier then?” Nemona whispered, inching closer to gaze into the pit. Juliana squinted as she stared.

“Uh, I don’t think so? Not sure. But I think this is a different one. I dunno, I was pretty freaked out, it’s hard to remember.”

Arven was scowling down at his phone, looking a bit uncertain.

“So the pokemon are making these? How many do you think there are?” Penny whispered. 

Juliana answered,

“They might be making them? Or maybe they just come from them. They do seem to be able to control the tar, though . . .”

“Maybe it’s both? This stuff’s already underground but they can make it rise to the surface or something,” Nemona speculated. Arven cut in,

“Okay well, we can play pokemon researchers later, guys, for now I wanna leave, if you don’t mind. If we’re on the right track, we just need to head this way–”

“Oh my god, wait, what is all that?” Penny interrupted him. They looked to where she pointed, out in the lake of tar. The surface of the tar was suddenly bubbling and sizzling gently, and there seemed to be lumpy shapes out there. 

A lot of lumpy shapes.

“Uh– we should leave,” Juliana said quickly. 

“There’s no way those are all wolves, though, right?” Penny whispered, eyes wide.

The moon had been lost behind many layers of fog for most of the night, but it now broke through enough of it to cast some of its silvery light upon the eerie lake. The tar was now bubbling aggressively and the shapes were rising higher and higher. They could see the vague outline of the skulls start to take shape within the ooze, the eye sockets dripping and emptying out.

“Oh god,” Arven breathed, backing away,

“There’s got to be like a hundred of them!”

“D-don’t worry, the one I saw took ages to escape the tar, we can just leave,” Juliana reassured him as they all backed away. 

“Great, let’s just bail then,” Nemona agreed. They all turned.

Around them, purple lights flickered in the fog. 

A lot of purple lights.

“Aw, fff–”

Everything happened far too fast after that. In an instant, there were several wolves on Arven, the rope that tied them all together tore and shredded, and Mabosstiff snarled in a rage, trying to wrestle the creatures off his master; three more wolves also appeared in front of Juliana, and when Nemona tried to swing at them with her sauce pot, they ganged up on her. 

“Grrhh, Mabosstiff, go, help the others, go!”

Mabosstiff reluctantly followed orders, leaving Arven and charging in to assist, climbing onto one of the wolves; Penny was harassing another with her BBQ fork. Juliana only had a bottle of Max Repel and felt horrifically ill-prepared. She tried for a few seconds to douse the pokemon with the spray but it clearly wasn’t doing anything. Frustrated, she tried to think of what else she could do– a second wolf had ganged up on Mabosstiff and the two were overwhelming the dog, while Penny and Nemona struggled with the third, which was snapping at them wildly.

“Stop– STOP–”

She bopped one of the wolves over the head with the plastic bottle as hard as she could, repeatedly, until it turned and snarled at her. In a panic, she twisted the cap off the bottle with shaking fingers.

The wolf lunged at her, jaws wide. Juliana jammed the bottle directly into its mouth, shoving it down as far as she could, squeezing the bottle. The wolf made a strangled choking sound, flailing its head and stumbling away from her, mouth foaming. In the meantime, Mabosstiff had taken out one of the other wolves, unimpeded; he turned to now attack the wolf choking on the bottle of repel. Juliana turned her focus on the third wolf, which seemed to be targeting Penny, perhaps deciding somebody shorter was easier to take out. 

“Leave her alone!” Nemona yelled, smacking at the wolf’s head with her pot, hard enough to daze it.

“Penny, Jules, run! I can handle it–”

Nemona screamed as a skeletal wolf from the tar pit latched onto her pants from behind her, yanking.

“NEMONA!”

She lost balance, falling backwards into the pit, and Juliana felt like her entire world was collapsing. Without a single thought, she rushed forward to the edge of the pit, dropping down to the ground and reaching out to grab onto both of Nemona’s hands. Nemona twisted in the tar and tried righting herself, Juliana yanking her along. They made it partway out of the pit before the skeletal wolf that had grabbed her re-emerged from the black, grabbing onto her again and pulling back in a high-stakes game of tug-o-war.

“Juliana!”

Penny rushed to them both, apparently having dealt with the wolf that had been targeting her. She tried swinging at the pokemon with her BBQ fork but it was too far out of reach.

“Pass it to me!” Nemona yelled. Once she had it, she used one hand to jab the fork backwards blindly at the wolf. The tongs cracked along the wolf’s nasal cavity and it shrieked but refused to release her, so she kept fighting until one of her jabs drove the fork deep into the nasal cavity, burying it up to the handle. The pokemon made a horrific noise and let go, sinking back into the bog, while Juliana and Penny pulled, trying to drag Nemona back to safety. In the middle of their efforts, Nemona’s eyes widened and she yelled,

“Behind you!”

Juliana didn’t get a chance to even turn and see– either it went after Penny or Penny led it away from them on purpose, because she was suddenly gone, leaving Juliana to pull on her own. The problem was that by now, Nemona had sunk up to her waist, and the tar seemed to almost have a will of its own, gripping Nemona stubbornly as Juliana tugged. Nemona battled fiercely to escape and sometimes they managed to lift her high enough that she almost got a leg free, but she kept slipping back in and reversing their progress.

Despite that, Nemona still shouted with certainty, “You almost got it, Jules, you can do it!” 

From the edges of her vision, Juliana saw flickers of light. She glanced up to see the other skeletons in the pit were edging closer and closer to them, slogging through the tar slowly but surely. Her voice choked in despair, Juliana yelled,

“N-nemona!” 

Nemona glanced back briefly to see and then turned back, saying,

“Don’t worry about them, just pull, we can do it!”

Juliana dug in her heels and pulled, feeling her arms and legs ache with the effort. The air around them began to grow foul, smoke billowing from the jaws of the skeletal wolves as they crept closer and closer. 

Juliana coughed and coughed, but she kept pulling.

The eyes of the wolves grew brighter and brighter. Juliana closed her eyes just in time; she could see the intense flashing even behind her eyelids, but remained safe from the Confuse Rays. Her heart pounded and it was hard to breathe, but she kept pulling.

And even as the world around them swam in the howls of the damned, Juliana continued pulling with all her might, ignoring everything else, everything except the tenuous grasp she had on her most precious treasure, even as she felt her body weaken and her head grow faint.

Juliana pulled.

And then, all at once, the tar released its bitter hold. 

Juliana toppled backwards onto the ground, Nemona careening forward and landing on top of her. 

Juliana finally opened her eyes and saw an amber gaze looking back at her, eyes wide.

She heard Arven’s voice,

“Oh jeez, are you guys okay? God, they just kept coming and coming.”

Juliana turned her head a bit to see Arven, battered, bleeding and exhausted, but still okay and in one piece. Mabosstiff was beside him, looking even worse for wear, clearly having battled far too many opponents, but he hadn’t quite fainted. 

Penny’s voice answered from somewhere nearby,

“Y-yeah, I’m okay. Juliana, Nemona, are you okay?”

Nemona pushed up off the ground and helped pull Juliana back to her feet, which was good, because Juliana’s legs still felt far too rubbery and weak from all that pulling. 

Juliana felt shaky and bruised and sticky and lightheaded, but she didn’t care about any of that, because Nemona hadn’t been swallowed by the black, she was here, she was safe.

“You saved me,” Nemona said to her, but not in a tone of surprise– rather, in a voice overflowing with pride and elation. Without hesitation, she pulled Juliana close and kissed her, fueled by adrenaline and relief.

Arven squawked,

“Guys, now’s not the time!”

Juliana didn’t register Arven’s complaint at first, too distracted by the euphoria and her girlfriend kissing her like she was her oxygen– but when Arven yelled again they stopped and tried to pull away. They realized the tar had stuck them together a bit.

“Oh my god you guys, seriously . . .”

“What?? It’s not our fault, it’s the tar!”

Arven came over to help pry them apart, cursing under his breath, but fortunately it didn’t take long to unstick from Nemona.

“They’re getting close,” Penny called anxiously. Juliana turned to see many of the skeletal wolves had reached the shore by now and were attempting to climb out. She knew firsthand that they wouldn’t be getting out quickly, but it was still much too close for comfort. Juliana said,

“Okay, let’s get going while we still have a head start!”

They started to run again, Arven leading them on a path back through the trees. 

However, they were all pretty worn down by this point. That final confrontation at the lake of tar wrenched most of the remaining energy out of the group and they hadn’t had the chance to even catch their breath. Juliana knew the constant running wasn’t sustainable; they already were going at half their usual pace, most of them limping and winded. 

What was worse was when Arven pulled his phone out to check it again, he cursed. 

Nemona quickly asked,

“What? What is it?”

He frantically wiped at the phone with one of his sleeves.

“One of those brutes must have barfed their gross tar crap on my phone while they were attacking me. Ugh!”

He wiped layers of the gluey muck off, but most of the screen was still smudged beyond recognition.

“What do we do?”

“It . . . it’s okay, I think I know where we are by now. We should be close, just follow me.”

They continued on, hoping Arven’s innate sense of direction would be enough, but it made Juliana very nervous, especially when Arven kept hesitating. Just when she had convinced herself they would drain the last of their energy running in circles, Arven spoke up again, and it was like music to her ears.

“Oh, yeah, okay, we’re close! This is right, just a little longer!”

“How close?” Penny wheezed, looking a little pale by now.

“Not sure exactly, uh, maybe less than a quarter mile?”

“That doesn’t help, how far is that?”

“It, uh, I dunno, like two minutes or something!”

“I hope you’re right, ‘cause I’m starting to see spots again,” Nemona said, hands on her knees as she panted for air. 

“Yeah, just a little further, I promise!”

They continued to run, until Arven cried out,

“Yeah, yeah! See over there? Just past that hill, we’re camped behind there!”

“We made it!” Nemona managed to exclaim. They all ran just a little bit faster, spurred on by the thought of their nightmare finally coming to an end. As they approached the hill, Juliana noticed a strange light at the very top of it. Thankfully it wasn’t purple, so it obviously wasn’t one of the wolves– it was a red light. Juliana thought of the Duskull family for a moment, but the light seemed too big to belong to them. 

“Hey, what is that?” Penny asked, noticing it too. The rest of them looked up as they jogged towards the hill.

As they drew nearer, it soon became obvious what it was.

The red light was big and round and it shone a brilliant scarlet. They could see a hulking figure in the fog, the red light sitting dead-center on the creature’s forehead.

The pokemon at the top of the hill turned, facing their direction; a smaller, green light glinted down at them, like a single eye that was adapted for the night.

The three teens and Mabosstiff stopped at the foot of the hill, staring, completely dumbfounded. Nemona gasped,

“The Bloodmoon Beast!”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Arven muttered. 

“I-it’s real? No shot,” Penny sputtered, her eyes wide. Arven turned to them and whispered,

“Shh, quick, maybe it hasn’t noticed–”

But the green light trembled and they watched the shadowy shape on the hill change posture, dropping down on all fours. There was a rumbling growl.

The growl was much, much deeper than the wolves, and it echoed throughout the valley. 

“Ohhhkay, nevermind, we’re screwed,” Arven murmured softly. Mabosstiff whimpered, obviously not feeling up to facing another battle, let alone with something like that. Penny whispered,

“Can’t we just go around?”

“Well, we can try.”

However, when they turned, the sight that met them sent Juliana’s heart sinking into her stomach. Purple lights, flickering in the fog. There were dozens and dozens and dozens of them, maybe a hundred, encircling their location from all around. Penny rasped,

“Wh-what?! How? How did they catch up so soon?”

The wolves were advancing on them slowly. Juliana turned and looked to the others; Penny looked terrified, Arven’s expression was bleak, Mabosstiff was cowering. Even Nemona looked entirely at a loss. The Beast growled again, lurking closer to them. They were completely pinned, surrounded on all sides by harbingers of grisly death. 

The light cast by the Beast’s forehead bathed the valley in red, casting the creeping wolves in an infernal light. 

And then, the Beast jumped, releasing a deafening roar. Juliana saw it fly over them, landing just in front of the group of huddled humans. But its focus didn’t seem to be them; instead, it was glaring out at the creatures that surrounded them.

It charged at the wolves in a sudden lurch, grabbing the nearest one in its jaws and shaking it like a ragdoll, the bones flying apart in all directions. The Beast swung a paw and sent two more wolves flying with a mighty swipe. Some of the wolves shrieked angrily and barked, Shadow Sneaking forward and advancing on the Beast. 

The Beast stood up on two legs, pointing its muzzle skyward and roaring, its forehead glowing brightly.

Then it looked down at the wolves and unleashed an incredible blast of energy from its forehead, something so powerful that Juliana felt the shockwave punch her right in the chest. It looked to her like a Hyper Beam but even more unhinged, the blood-red beam of light sweeping across the ground as the Beast moved its head, vaporizing everything it touched, even scorching the earth itself.

Juliana felt a chill to her very core witnessing it, and when she could tear her eyes away, she turned to Nemona. Nemona had her hands balled into fists, her eyes sparkling bright.

“I knew it,” she whispered, unable to disguise her glee.

“I knew it was real!”

Her eyes met with Juliana and they shared a giddy smile, giggling together. 

Arven and Penny weren’t quite as thrilled at witnessing the power of the Bloodmoon Beast so up-close and personal, at least not under their current circumstances. Arven stammered,

“O-okay, you guys were right, now let’s make sure we’re gone before– hey, what’re you doing?!”

Nemona had nabbed his phone and was pointing it at the pokemon wreaking havoc on the wolf horde.

“Just a quick picture, we’re gonna want to remember this later, right?”

She managed to quick-launch the camera feature and snapped the shutter a bunch of times before Arven swiped the phone back. 

“We’re gonna want to live to remember this! Come on, let’s get out of here already!”

They climbed the hill and rushed back to camp, leaving the Bloodmoon Beast behind to face the horrors that lurked in the night. 

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

"I came in contact with the burnt out ruins of the past, lieutenant."

KIM KITSURAGI - "That does sometimes happen." He hands you the remains of your ledger.

Item Gained: Ledger of Failure and Hatred

KIM KITSURAGI - "You dropped this -- are you okay to proceed?"

"Let's solve this case." [Leave.]

Just nod. [Leave.]

+5 XP

Level up!

KIM KITSURAGI - "Good."

TUTORIAL AGENT - The Ledger of Failure and Hatred is a special item that can be used both as an INTERACTABLE and a TOOL equipped in your HELD slot for skill bonuses. Find it under the TOOLS tab in your INVENTORY.

LEDGER OF FAILURE AND HATRED - This is the same ledger you found in the trash, only *worse* somehow. It makes you think about the letter. About the woman's handwriting. About not wanting to get out of bed in the morning.

The Ledger gives us +1 Inland Empire, +1 Empathy, and -2 Authority. I probably won't be equipping it.

Interacting with the ledger simply opens the same dialogue menu as before.

WHITE MOURNING

Temporary research bonus: -1 Authority: Little guy gets further and further away

Research time: 5h

You see yourself from above. You’re passed out on the blue tiles of the hostel room floor. Even from this distance you can see your eyelids flutter -- at the mention of what? A great white object, letting out its sweet smell, like a Lily of the Valley. The little man’s forgotten its name, but he still remembers the feeling. And look, he moves! The feeling animates him. He instinctively reaches out for the feeling's best friend -- a bottle of Commodore Red. He puts on his disco clothes and gets smaller and smaller...

As you can see, we've opened up the top part of the Thought Cabinet This one is non-negotiable - I equip it immediately.

There's some things we can do now that we've rooted through the dumpster, and since we're already at Kim's Kineema...

COUPRIS KINEEMA - In the cabin you see a set of steering levers, a radio on a hook, a pull-out toolbox and the soft glow of the fuel pre-heater gauge.

"Kim, how do I turn on the headlights?"

KIM KITSURAGI - He turns the pre-heater on, waits, takes out his keys and says: "All right. Ready. I turn, you press START -- it's next to the pre-heater."

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] - He's downplaying his excitement -- the lieutenant is more than happy to show off his precious carriage.

Press ENGINE START.

COUPRIS KINEEMA - The dashboard lights up with orange glow. The rounds per minute gauge jumps and the engine of the Coupris Kineema comes to life with a whiny growl.

Press the button labelled HEADLIGHTS.

COUPRIS KINEEMA - The lights unfold with a little click, casting electrical light onto the ground before the vehicle.

KIM KITSURAGI - "There you go. I'll turn them off from the remote once you're done -- we just need to stand in front of the machine now."

5. Close the door. [Leave.]

INTERFACING - As you hold your ledger's clip under the headlamp, an iridescent hologram appears: a street grid and the veins of a great river. A familiar sensation washes over you...

KIM KITSURAGI - "There she is: Revachol West." There's a note of pride in the lieutenant's voice.

DAMAGED LEDGER - Around the borders of the watermark are dozens, no, *hundreds* of micro-perforations.

Look at the shimmering street grid.

Look at the perforations.

DAMAGED LEDGER - The rectangular watermark is overlaid with the logo of the RCM, and yet the major arteries of Revachol are all recognizable. They shimmer in the Kineema's headlights.

Wait... look around you.

"Where are we on this?" (Point to the halogen map.)

DAMAGED LEDGER - You catch a faint glimmer from a broken beer bottle. In the distance -- sounds. Two men engaged in a drunken argument, followed by the closing of some distant window.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Ah, Martinaise at night," he smells the air and says.

"Where are we on this?" (Point to the halogen map.)

KIM KITSURAGI - "Let me see." He takes the ledger for a moment and inspects it.

"Right here," he says, his finger near the top of the map, on a segment of coast jutting out into the great ocean.

"Seems nice."

"Seems like a shithole."

"I'm sure I've seen worse."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Oh yes. Coal City, Le Royaume, the Burnt Out Quarter..."

2. Look at the perforations.

DAMAGED LEDGER - There are many of them. And they are divided into three separate rows.

Tally up the different rows.

(Let's look at something else.)

DAMAGED LEDGER - The first row has 18 dots.

Not bad.

What about the next one?

DAMAGED LEDGER - Not bad for what? You don't even know what it means yet.

What about the next one?

DAMAGED LEDGER - The next is the longest. It runs all the way around the border and then some.

Count them individually.

DAMAGED LEDGER - There are so many it's hard to count. More than 150, at least. Maybe even 200.

What about the last row?

DAMAGED LEDGER - The last row has three perforations.

Three, that's it?

DAMAGED LEDGER - That's it.

3. "Hey, Kim, what do all these holes mean?" (Point to the dots on the watermark.)

KIM KITSURAGI - "Those are *perforations*. They represent your record as an officer of the RCM. They're your statistics, as it were. I should have guessed you'd keep a record, officers often do. Let's take a look..."

"The first row represents your years of service. *Eighteen* years? Okay -- not bad at all. What did you do before you volunteered?"

"Wait, *eighteen years* I've done this?"

"Got drunk like a megastar?"

"I walked the land telling whores and liars of the End to come. There are 9,855 days remaining."

"I was a hobo and I lived under a boat."

"Probably some boring office job. Same as everyone else."

"I feel like I just went around apologizing all the time."

"Do you really think I have any idea?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "That's what it says. I might've guessed even longer based on your age... what did you do all those blissful years of your youth?"

[oxferdoutfitter]

Night Hunting Techniques for Hogs: Mastering the Art of Texas Hog Hunting

 Feral hogs, with their destructive tendencies and prolific breeding, have become a significant problem in Texas. Known for their intelligence and adaptability, these invasive animals can wreak havoc on agriculture, property, and native ecosystems. As a result, effective management techniques are crucial, and night hunting has proven to be one of the most efficient methods. This comprehensive guide explores the various night hunting techniques for hogs, focusing on the unique landscape and opportunities provided by Texas hog hunting.

The Necessity of Hog Hunting in Texas

Texas is home to an estimated 2.6 million feral hogs, which are responsible for approximately $52 million in agricultural damage annually. These hogs, descendants of domestic pigs and European wild boars, have few natural predators and breed rapidly, with a single sow capable of producing two litters of 4-12 piglets each year. This explosive population growth makes it imperative to control their numbers effectively.

Why Night Hunting?

Hogs are primarily nocturnal, especially in areas with significant human activity. They tend to forage for food at night, making daytime hunting less effective. Night hunting leverages the hogs' natural behavior patterns, increasing the chances of a successful hunt. Moreover, the cover of darkness allows hunters to approach more stealthily, reducing the likelihood of spooking the animals.

Essential Night Hunting Equipment

Successful night hunting hinges on having the right equipment. Here are the essentials:

Night Vision and Thermal Optics :

Night Vision : These devices amplify existing light, allowing you to see in low-light conditions. They are effective in areas with some ambient light, such as moonlight or artificial lights.

Thermal Optics : These devices detect heat signatures, making them invaluable for spotting hogs in complete darkness. Thermal scopes and monoculars can highlight the body heat of hogs against cooler backgrounds.

Firearms and Suppressors -

Firearms : A reliable rifle or shotgun, calibrated for accuracy and stopping power, is crucial. Popular choices include AR-15 rifles, which offer versatility and ease of use.

Suppressors : These devices reduce the noise of gunfire, helping to prevent the hogs from scattering after the first shot. This allows for multiple opportunities to take down more animals in a single outing.

Illumination -

Hunting Lights : Red and green lights are preferred as they are less likely to spook hogs. Mounted lights on rifles or headlamps can provide targeted illumination.

Spotlights : High-powered spotlights can be used to scan large areas quickly.

Hunting Gear-

Camouflage: Wearing dark or camouflaged clothing helps you blend into the night environment.

Scent Control: Hogs have a keen sense of smell. Using scent control sprays and hunting from downwind positions can reduce the likelihood of detection.

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[honourablejester]

That Astral Sea Fish Suit art reminded me that one of the augmentations that really enchants me in Starfinder is the Angler’s Light. Which is, as it sounds, a biotech augmentation that gives you a bioluminescent antenna to raise the light level in your vicinity one step. It was originally developed by asteroid miners who needed both hands free for heavy equipment (which I love a lot, and also would like to make a Diasporan asteroid miner character just to have one of these), but amusingly has now also taken off in the Pact World rave scene as an aesthetic augmentation.

And. I do get that you could go with Bioluminescent Skin instead, which you can get faster and cheaper, has a bigger radius, and can be explicitly be suppressed for stealth reasons. And is prettier, if that’s a consideration. Or, you know. You could clip an actual light to your armour or get a headlamp. There are cheaper and more effective and more practical ways of getting light in this game. But.

I really just want my own personal anglerfish lure? IDK, the idea just enchants me. A hardbitten Diasporan asteroid miner, a human or a dwarf or a sarcesian or an ysoki, in no-nonsense utilitarian coveralls, with this delicate luminous antenna curling beneath their helmet and illuminating the rock and dust and ice in front of them.

I want one. I just really really want one. Heh.

[alanparker98]

Safety Tips for Walking Your Dog at Night

Walking your dog at night can be a peaceful and rewarding experience, but it's essential to take extra precautions to ensure you and your furry friend's safety. 

Here are some key tips to keep in mind for those evening strolls.

Best Safety Tips for Dog Walking at Night

1. Light Up the Night

Walking at night requires utmost visibility to ensure safety. It's essential to equip both yourself and your furry companion with reflective gear or LED collars. Additionally, carrying a trusty flashlight or wearing a convenient headlamp will not only illuminate your path but also make you more visible to others.

2. Stick to Well-Lit Areas

Choose routes that are well-lit and familiar. Avoid dark alleys or secluded areas. Well-lit paths not only help you see where you're going but also make you more visible to drivers and other pedestrians.

3. Keep Your Dog on a Leash

Even if your dog is well-trained, always use a leash at night. Unexpected noises or movements can startle them, and a leash provides control and prevents your dog from running into danger.

4. Stay Alert

Your senses are your best defense. Pay attention to your surroundings and stay off your phone. Keep an eye out for any potential hazards like uneven sidewalks, broken glass, or other animals.

5. Dress Appropriately

Wear comfortable, weather-appropriate clothing and sturdy shoes. If it's cold, dress warmly and consider a reflective jacket for yourself. If your dog has short fur, a doggy coat can help keep them warm too.

6. Bring Essentials

Carry your phone, ID, and some doggy bags. A small first aid kit can be handy for minor injuries. Bring water for both you and your dog, especially if you plan to be out for a while.

7. Plan Your Route

Let someone know your planned route and expected return time. Stick to familiar areas where you know the layout and potential hazards. If something happens, it’s easier for someone to find you if they know your route.

8. Watch for Wildlife

At night, wildlife is more active. Keep an eye out for raccoons, skunks, or other nocturnal animals that might pose a threat to your dog. Stay calm and slowly move away if you encounter any.

9. Mind the Traffic

Drivers may have difficulty seeing pedestrians at night, so always cross at crosswalks and make eye contact with drivers before crossing. Stay on sidewalks whenever possible and walk against traffic if you have to be on the road.

10. Trust Your Instincts

If something feels off, trust your gut and head home. Your safety and your dog's safety are the top priorities. Don’t hesitate to cut the walk short if you feel uncomfortable.

With these safety guidelines in mind, you can make sure that your nighttime walks are not only fun but also secure for both you and your beloved pet. Enjoy your walk!

If you're planning to be away from home for a while and you want your furry friend to enjoy uninterrupted walks, look no further than Barking Trails - the ultimate dog walking service. With their team of dedicated dog walkers, they truly understand the needs of both you and your beloved pup.