#I thought this was also going to be a complicated one but the vertical details actually did a ton of the work of hiding the seam for me

[amplexadversary]

stitch of the pool scene from episode 32 of G Gundam

[emeraldcatears]

Making a Grass Autotile (part 1)

While RPG Maker gives you some tiles to play with, I find that really understanding how they work works best if you also know how to make your own. That and, well, I actually like making custom tiles. It takes a while - especially to make a whole set - but I just lose track of time while doing it and it helps me de-stress.

I won't claim to be good at it, mind you, but this is a learnalong so I'll go ahead and explore my process.

I'm using MS Paint. Yep. The basic art program that comes with Windows. There are a lot of tools in more sophisticated art programs that make this faster or easier, but for the sake of this example I want to show that you don't have to know anything more complicated than Paint to make an autotile that works in RPG Maker.

First I pick some greens since I'm making some grass.

This way I have a consistent set of colors to work with to make the tile. I'm no color expert and I'm sure someone experienced in that area would be better at explaining how to pick a good pallet. I just picked some that I thought looked nice together without being overly saturated.

Since RPG Maker MZ uses 48x48 tiles the next step is to make a square.

And I'm done!

Okay, not really. I could actually make a tile that's just a single color and save the details that make it look like jagged, growing grass for the parts where it borders other tiles if I wanted, though. For a simpler style that might be ideal - this is just the stuff your player walks on after all. It shouldn't look so busy as to be distracting. Variation could be done via decorative tiles like flowers added on top the base grass.

But I'm not leaving it here. I might experiment with a simpler style later but this is a learnalong so I'll make it more interesting.

I like to make an asterisk shape of grass. Here I used the middle green for the shape and highlighted the tips with the lighter greens. I added some dark green under the lower edges as shadows.

I also only made a few in the center of the tile. None of these touch the edges. That's because to make sure it loops nicely...

... I cut the tile in half and move the right side to become the left and vice-versa. If I were to copy this tile and paste it next to itself on either the right or left side, the edges would line up perfectly to recreate the first clumps.

Since I know it repeats horizontally I can fill the middle in with more clumps of grass.

And from there it's a matter of repeating the cut-and-paste process with the top and bottom halves to make a tile that loops vertically.

Huh. That bare patch actually kind of looks like part of the grass has been worn down from foot travel. I'll keep this in mind if I want to make a path like this sometime later.

For now...

More filling up the middle.

I want to do one more switcharoo of the left and right sides to make sure those last bare bits repeat correctly.

And once that last part is nice and clumpy...

I know it loops with itself, but I'll go ahead and place copies of this 48*48 tile next to each other so I have three tiles vertically and two horizontally. If I just wanted this patch on it's own I'd be done, but to make it an autotile I need the arrangement of six.

One last thing...

After letting it sit for a bit I decided the initial greens I picked blended together almost too much. I recolored the tile with a bit more contrast between the light and dark shades.

Again, that can be done in Paint if you'd prefer not using a fancier art program. While the tools available in a more sophisticated program can get the job done in a number of more efficient ways I do want to show that Paint can recolor things too. And I don't mean using the fill bucket on each of the different pixels.

Normally, Color 1 is the color of your brush and Color 2 is the color you erase with. But if you hold down the right mouse button while moving the eraser tool it’ll replace any Color 1 pixels with the second color. In the example above I’ve started replacing the lightest green with my new set’s lightest green.

While I do actually have a complete autotile with just this one tile in a group of six of itself, to really show why this is an autotile and not just, ya know, a tile, I'll have to make something with clear corners.

Join me later for a path.

[girls4keigo]

A Bird Whisperer’s Guide to Fighting Villains and Falling in Love | Hawks x Hero!Reader

Summary: Hawks needs help to defeat an upcoming hero attack in Tokyo. What better hero to ask than the one he’s been crushing on for months

Warnings: F!Reader, Hero!Reader, Fluff, Cursing

Reader plays hard to get. Reader has a nature quirk and can control natural elements and talk to animals. Reader is a popular hero

a/n: hi! this is my first post i hope you all enjoy! :)

————

You sighed, trying to keep your composure while talking to a bunch of big name heroes. The fundraiser events that your agency made you go to were unbearable. Standing around for hours listening to the most mundane heroes try to impress you with their line of work. But hey, if it helps boost approval ratings I guess it’s not that bad.

For the past year you’ve slowly been climbing the ranks of the hero world. With a powerful quirk and unique fighting styles it was hard to go unnoticed. By now you were familiar with how the industry treated female heroes. It seemed as if the general public cared about anything but your hero duties.

It was all love, relationships, “Who are you dating?”, “What’s your skincare routine?”

You honestly didn’t expect any different but geez, it sure did piss you off. And now that you were in the top 3, you weren’t expecting any of it to die down. Might as well just get used to it.

You continued to chat when suddenly your ear twitched as you sensed a certain birdie approaching.

Oh God.

“Hey. Mind if I steal ya away for a little?” Hawks’ signature smirk appeared on his face as he approached you.

Hawks seemed to really be latching onto you for quite some time, well since the new hero rankings were announced. You were on your way to surpassing the number 2 hero and had gained a lot of notoriety in the past couple of months. 

He was clingy for sure, always play flirting, inviting you to lunch, showing up at your agency unannounced. It was obvious that he was just trying to get a reaction out of you. You’d be surprised if he admitted to actually having feelings for you. Well, not that you cared anyways. Your job was to save civilians, defeat villains, and do things that any other normal hero would. Love was simply not on your agenda.

Holding back a heavy sigh, you complied and stepped off to the side with Hawks.

He seemed delighted by your decision, using his feathers to fetch you a glass of champagne off of one of the caterer’s trays as you two walked over to the bar area.

“So your agency makes you come to these lame things too, huh?”

You didn’t answer, not very interested in the direction that the conversation was going in.

“You look nice.” He bit his lower lip, dragging his eyes vertically across your figure.

“Thank you.” You replied, taking a sip of your champagne.

After you both had made your way over to the bar he instructed his order to the bartender, asking you if you wanted anything and keeping the same dumb smirk on his face when you denied.

“Rarely ever see you in a color other than green. I mean, I guess it’s your entire thing but I really dig this red look you’ve got goin’ on” He mused, as he watched the bartender carefully make his drink.

He wasn’t lying. He’s been eyeing you since you walked in, you look good.

“What do you want, Hawks?” You asked, visibly annoyed.

“Damn.” He chuckled, “Small talk isn’t your thing, noted.”

You side-eyed him, getting impatient with his overly relaxed demeanor.

Catching the hint, he got straight to the point. “There’s some trouble going on in Tokyo.”

Now you were intrigued. You took another sip of your champagne, “Petty villain attacks like always, isn’t it?”

You turned towards him, he got a good look at your face before he answered.

Fucking pretty, he thought to himself.

“That’s what I thought at first but it’s getting harder to believe that as I do more digging.” He looks around before inching closer to you, trying to keep his volume to a minimum. “The League is planning something big next week. The ‘Rain of Terror’, they’re callin’ it. They’re trying to ease the amount of big attacks in the city to let our gaurds down. And frankly, I think it’s working.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “How do you know all of this?”

“I’ve got connections,” Was all he said, with a shrug.

Ok, whatever. You’ll confront him about that later. “And this ‘Rain of Terror…’ what does it entail?”

“Bombs.”

“Shit,” You muttered.

“Big ones. Huge ones, actually. I don’t know how the fuckers did it but they found a way to make these huge, bioengineered clouds that ‘rain’ bombs.”

You grew uneasy. Raining bombs? Over the entirety of Tokyo? The amount of destruction it would do to the earth, to civilians, made you panic. Hawks sensed your uneasiness but continued anyways, “I want us to team up. Your quirk would be useful with the entire controlling nature n’ weather thing.”

He loosened up from his serious expression, talking a bit louder and showing a teethy smile, “Plus I think we’d make a pretty good team. I’ve already got a plan so we’ll meet up at yours tomorrow.”

“As in my house? Why not anywhere else?” You questioned.

“Well,” He grabbed his drink and used his free hand to rub the back of his heck, “This isn’t really the typa thing we can talk about in public. Mass hysteria, panic, that type of thing. And my living situation is pretty…complicated right now.”

You felt a small tap on your shoulder, followed by the voice of your high school aged sidekick. You turned to the younger hero. “Uh..Y/N? It’s time to go. I gotta be back by 11.”

You sighed before turning back to Hawks.

“Kids and their curfews, right?” He commented.

“Fine. I’ll have my agency send you my address. Don’t come during the day.” That was the last thing you said before finishing your drink all in one quick sip and making your way to the exit. You could feel his eyes on your backside until you left the venue. And the singular scarlet feather rushing in front of you to open the car door for you was really the cherry on top.

You rolled your eyes.

“Woah.” Your sidekick mused, “He seems to really like you. You should give him a chance, he’s hot.”

You giggled at her comment, “He doesn’t really like me, y’know? He flirts with every female hero.”

—

You heard a slight tap on the window leading up to your balcony. You already sensed him flying towards you when he was about a mile away, but your bedroom? Reluctantly you walked over and opened the sliding door.

“Never heard of a front door?”

“Well that’s no fun, is it?” He said, displaying his signature smirk. You looked cute out of your hero clothes. Hair tied up and messy, and in big comfy clothes.

Adorable, he thought to himself. He walked in as if it was his own befroom, slipping off his shoes, gloves and jacket and placing them in the corner of your room.

“Make yourself comfortable I guess.” You deadpanned at him, “And we’re still going downstairs anyways.” He shrugged.

He couldn’t help but be taken aback by the layout of your room. There were plants in almost every corner, on every shelf. Vines growing on your walls, half read books strewn across your bedside table and dresser, your pet birds of all different shaped and sizes flew freely around your room, chirping every once in a while. “So you’re a bird whisperer, huh?” He said, looking around.

“I’m an animal whisperer.” You said, “That’s kind of like my entire thing.”

He let out a hearty laugh before making his way out of your room.

“Tea?” You asked, heading towards the kitchen as the winged hero made himself comfortable on your couch.

“Sure.” He picked up your remote with one his feathers, flicking through the channels.

He turned his attention to you a couple moments later as you took a seat across from him at your coffee table, setting down two mugs of green tea.

He explained his plan carefully, paying close attention to all details and pausing for any questions you might have. You had to admit, as much as an annoying asshole this guy could be, he knew what he was doing. You could tell he plans his strategies very carefully, as much as he likes to come off as lazy and laid back to the general public. He was a damn good hero. And you hated admitting it but he was right, utlizing his speed and your ability to control weather, it wouldn’t be all that hard to stop villain attacks.

Hawks also couldn’t help but admire you. You seemed attentive, always paying close attention to detail and asking a lot of questions. I mean he already knew you were good at your job, watching some of the viral videos of your fights with villains.

—

When the day finally came, it went as smoothly as planned, of course with a little bumps along the way. Still, the few civilians that were hurt only had minor injuries, and you and hawks made it so only a couple bombs hit the ground.

You, Hawks, and some other minor heroes who had joined mid-battle regrouped to talk about how to resolve the collateral damage.

“It’s not too much to be honest, I’ll have it all repaired by midni-“

“Wow! What an incredible display of courage from Hawks and Mother Nature, currently sitting at number 2 and number 3 of Japan’s Hero BillBoard Chart!” A loud reporter exclaimed, accompanied by a camera crew.

Of course.

You tried your best to ignore and keep talking to fellow heroes until a microphone was shoved in your face. The face of the reporter gleamed as she talked to you. “Tell me Mother Nature, how does it feel working with number 2 hero Hawks?” You winced at the question, but answered nevertheless.

“Hawks is a  diligent hero with a lot of experience under his belt despite being so young. It was great working with him.” You answered, forcing a smile on your face.

“There’s speculation that you two planned this together..is this true? How were you able to predict this attack? More importantly, are you two dating?” Those questions hit you like a truck.

“Um..no comment.” Was all you could answer with.

Nevertheless, the reporter persisted, “Well there has to be something going on. It’s just my opinion but you two seem perfect for each other.” She giggled at the camera, “Please! The public is dying to know!”

Before you could even muster up an answer to the reporter’s overwhelming question, a giant scarlet wing came between you and the reporter, blinding both her and the camera from your view.

“Hey. She said she doesn’t wanna talk about it. Let’s respect personal boundaries, yeah?” Hawks said in a nice but slightly defensive tone.

You blushed, looking up at him. As nice we he was trying to sound, he looked angry. And damn right he was. How dare they talk to you like you’re no more than just some D-list celebrity? You’re a fucking hero, who cares about dating speculation when you just saved Japan’s largest city? And how dare they ask questions about him when you were the one doing most of the work. He was enraged, and it was his natural instinct to protect the thing he cared for.

Before you knew it, he latched his arms around your waist, pushing you into his chest.

You were flustered. “What are you-“

“Let’s go.” Was all he said before flapping his wings, sending you guys soaring through the air.

You held on to him for dear life, damn was he fast.

Hawks smirked to himself, feeling your rapid heartbeat against his chest. You were trying your best to hide your blushing by burying your face in his neck, granted that probably made it worse because he could already tell by how hot your face was.

God, she’s adorable

As soon as you two landed on top of a building, you pushed him away as quickly as possible.

He chuckled, putting both of his hands up in defense, “You’re the one making this awkward y’know? Plus you owe me for saving your ass.”

You were angry. Was it because of the downright rude questions that the reporter asked you not too long ago, was it because you knew tabloids would be posting all about you and Hawks for the next couple of days, was it because you were..warming up to that damned bird?

And then you started. “Just so you know, this..us..is not a thing. It will never be a thing. I wish you’d just stop flirting with me all the damn time. Just move on to the next female hero. I actually don’t care what you do. Just leave me alone. I don’t understand why you have to be so clingy, it’s annoying.”

Hawks did nothing but smile, listening to you ramble.

“You know…I-“ He interjected, only to be interrupted by you.

“And geez, you’re so goddamn entitled. I owe you? I don’t owe you anything. I didn’t even need your help. You’re no different from any other guy, you’re fucking insuffer-“

Hawks shut you up with a gentle kiss on your lips.

Oh.

“You talk too much.” He said in a low whisper, before pulling on your chin to kiss you again. You kissed him back, resting your hands on his chest, completely indulging in the moment.

Fuck. Your knees were weak. As much as you wanted to keep going you pulled away, blushing furiously and refusing to make eye contact with him.

“Oh? So now you’re shy?” He chuckled, pulling you closer to him. He tried to catch your gaze but you just moved your head away from him each time.

“Someone might see us. This is bad,” You were able to muster out.

“You’re so fucking cute.” He said, making you blush even more. He continued, “I don’t flirt with you for no reason, y’know? Sure, sometimes it’s just to tease..but I think you’re amazing.”

You felt like you were melting in his arms. Unable to find the right words, you panicked. You were gone in seconds, manipulating the wind so it could carry you back home, the same stupid blush unable to leave your face.

“Call me!” He yelled.

That damn bird.

[gumnut-logic]

Callisto (Incident - Bit 2)

Prologue | Incident - Bit 1 | Bit 2

Okay, I have now written over 6000 words of this fic and completed Part One. An attempt to start Part Two has led me to the realisation that I need to complete the Prologue as originally planned and not leave it cut off like I have (I was going to tell the story throughout the fic, but have since decided to restrict it to the Prologue). So, Expect a re-publication of the Prologue with more story in it :D Such is the way of this fic. Lots of rewriting, which is why this post is not 6000 words long, but just another bit of the whole as I work my way through it.

And yes, it turned out more complicated than expected. Don’t they always, but it has been so much fun.

Many, many continuing thanks to @tsarinatorment​ @scribbles97​ and @janetm74​ for the buckets of support they have been providing me with. Like a lot. This is a big project.

Anyways, here be a little bit more (about 1200 words). I hope you enjoy it :D

-o-o-o-

“Heads up, Thunderbird One.”

Scott raised his eyes as Tracy Island came into view, relief after a long morning and the option of lunch foremost on his mind.

A shower would be heaven.

“Thunderbird Five?”

John’s hologram was apologetic. “Dad wants to see you in the lounge immediately. Both you and Virgil.”

A blink. “What? Why?” Lunch took a step back.

Damnit.

“Unknown.” A sigh over comms. “Visual check, I suspect.”

Scott’s shoulders dropped even as he shifted One into vertical flight. “FAB, Thunderbird Five.”

Virgil. It had to be Virgil. Dad was still sensitive to any and all injury in the field. It was understandable, but at the same time, unavoidable.

Admittedly, Scott wanted to set his eyes on his engineer brother just to make sure he was still in one piece. After all, half a mountain had nearly landed on him.

It wasn’t the first time.

Virgil seemed to specialise in getting himself buried.

As One slid past the balcony, his father stood one hand on his cane, the other behind his back, ramrod straight, staring out at the Thunderbird.

Scott poked his comms. “Virg, you better be in one piece or Dad is going to roast your ass.”

Scott eyed his monitor, tracking Two’s progress back to the Island. Perhaps it was a reflection of his own concern, but Scott had held back on his return speed, more comfortable to keep within a safe distance of his brother.

A grunt over comms. “Minor bruising, Thunderbird One. As reported earlier.”

Scott grunted back.

At least he could understand their father’s need to see them in one piece.

One’s gantry carried the Thunderbird deep into the mountain, sliding her smoothly into her hangar as always. She sighed and settled as he flicked through post-flight.

God, he wanted that shower.

He climbed out of his seat as dried mud flaked off his uniform, and let the pilot retrieval system retract. A set of stairs, an elevator later and he was walking across the comms room. “Dad, you wanted to see me?”

Grey eyes raked him from above his father’s desk. “Debrief.”

Scott closed his eyes a second. “Dad, I really need a shower.” Shower before mission breakdown. It was an unspoken rule. It gave them the moment alone to gather wits and straighten out stories.

And left less dirt in the lounge.

His father leant a little further onto his cane, the thunderbird carved into the acacia wood catching the light. “We will wait for Virgil.”

Scott let his shoulders drop. Off to his right he absently noted Gordon with an armful of rubbish. Scott frowned. Those chocolate bar wrappers looked very familiar. He narrowed his eyes and took a step towards his little brother.

Gordon’s eyes widened and he darted out of reach, scampering over to the far side of the lounge.

Lips thinning, Scott glared at him and the resultant expression from his brother could only be called smirking guilt.

Damnit, he had been looking forward to those.

He let his shoulders drop and turned his back on Gordon, stepping out towards the balcony.

There were more important things.

Two was on approach, Virg wouldn’t be too long. Debrief as brief as it could be, then shower and food.

A flicker. “International Rescue, we have a situation.”

Oh, for the love of-

He turned to find John hovering in the middle of the room as expected, a worried frown on his face. His eyes bounced between Scott and his father. “Scott, it’s from Callisto.”

He stared at his brother. “Callisto?” His brain immediately started calculating flight times.

Hell.

The Jovian outpost was at the extreme of human endeavour, bar their trip to the Oort cloud. He, himself, had signed the grant forms that had seen the final boost from Tracy Industries to get the program into space and onto Jupiter’s second largest moon.

His father was frowning at him.

Scott straightened. “Details, John?”

“I have Graeme Walters on the line. Both directors of the expedition have gone missing.”

A blink as his heart sunk. “Both? How?”

“Apparently they were on an explorative foray and simply disappeared. Two days ago.”

Aw, hell.

John’s eyes darted to his father.

Jeff must have sensed something in the air because his eyes narrowed. “What don’t I know?”

John sighed. “Dad, the directors of the Callisto Expedition are Kate Berrenger and Ju Zhang.”

-o-o-o-

Virgil stepped off Two’s hatch and groaned. Today had been a long one and it was only halfway through. He flexed his left arm, rubbing the ache of bruises up and down it from that last landslide. Mud flaked off everywhere. He needed to have words with Mother Nature. Land-sliding over a village was one thing, but dumping more on the poor rescuers desperately trying to get a family out of the mess already created was just unfair.

And it hurt.

He hadn’t lied to his brothers; it was just bruising. He had scanned it to make sure. But Scott and probably Dad would still want to check on him and smother a little.

Scott, he was used to. Dad, he worried about. It was understandable, of course, but Virgil was concerned that their father was fretting too much about his sons to stay mentally healthy. There was an ‘out of sight, may never see them again’ vibe that had Virgil poking at texts on PTSD and speaking to Grandma in the late hours at night.

It was a circle of anxiety.

Stepping into the elevator, he rested his head against the cool metal wall and closed his eyes. There had also been a very early morning and definitely not enough coffee to compensate.

Shower, food and, if he was lucky, maybe a snooze by the pool. Either that or a bucket of coffee to drown his exhaustion in.

Almost as if fate heard that thought, the elevator doors opened to the lounge and an argument.

A big one.

“No, Dad. No way.”

“I was not asking your permission. This is my decision.”

Virgil skirted around the stone wall, past Gordon’s aquarium, and was confronted by the two eldest men in the family mirror-imaging each other’s glares.

Gordon stood in the sunken lounge beside John’s hovering hologram and both were staring, eyes wide, up at Scott and their father as they confronted each other.

“Dad, there is no way you meet the medical requirements for a space mission like this. Alan and I will go.”

“I have the experience-“

“No!”

Virgil flinched. There was more in that single word than a command decision. Virgil could hear the fear in his brother’s heart.

Dad raised his voice. “As I said, this is not your decision. It is mine.”

“As the Commander of International Rescue, it is my call.” Scott shifted his stance, his shoulders firming up as he pushed himself to his full height.

But Dad didn’t need height.

Dad was Dad.

His cane tapped the floor sharply. “Not this time, son.” The word ‘son’ was obviously aimed at putting Scott in his place.

Scott glared at his father. Virgil figured that the only reason he had paused was because this was his father. A brother would have been steamrolled by now and anyone else positively flattened.

Instead...

“It’s not safe!” It was a true statement, but Virgil read it more as ‘I can’t lose you again!’

It was echoed in his own heart.

Dad’s voice softened slightly. “Humanity never got anywhere by taking it easy.”

“But you’ve already given too much!”

And Virgil was moving, striding up beside his brother, a hand landing on Scott’s shoulder as he bodily intervened between the two. He fixed his glare on his parent.

“What the hell is going on?”

-o-o-o-

Next

[apotaeose]

The King’s Serpent

Pairing ↠ daechwita king!Yoongi x mercenary!reader

Genre ↠ angst, light smut, tiny bit of fluff 

Word Count ↠ 1.6K

Summary ↠ The ruthless king intends to use his most valuable weapon to consolidate his place on the throne by putting an end to its biggest threat — his twin brother.

Warnings ↠ implications of sex, and like death sentence lmao

A/N ↠ I just had to write something inspired by Daechwita hehe Min Yoongi really is the boss huh? I’m not sure if this will turn into a series or something like that yet. Hope you enjoy it, though! xo 

The king tosses his unsheathed sword on the mattress, his body following next with a soft thud. Turning on his back and surrounded by darkness with only the dim moonlight filtering through the windows of his large bedroom, he’s deep in thought, going over the events of earlier that day. One of his most trusted spies, Jung Hoseok, finally found the location of his long lost twin brother. He can’t help but to smile in triumph. As always, he managed to have the upper hand in the end. The blonde monarch can almost picture the shocking look on his ministers faces. All their jaws dropping entirely upon discovering the sudden death of that village mutt they plan to use as pawn to overthrow him. 

He’s done so much for this kingdom, fought so many wars and won all of them at such a young age, brought in so many riches, yet all they seemed to care is for his unorthodox — but effective —  way of dealing with those who dare defy him. He’s a king in his might, after all. Doing whatever he pleases shouldn’t concern anyone but himself. Who those stupid councillors think they are?

Suddenly, he’s pulled back to the present by an all too familiar sensation. It’s like a mild itch in the brain. He feels like— no, he knows he’s being watched. And exactly by who. 

“I’ve been expecting you,” he says calmly, rising to a sitting position, “It is not polite to keep your king on the wait.”

His gaze is pinned to your figure as you step away from the dark corner next to his window — now open —  and let the moon reveal yourself to him. Dressed in male black robes, you remove your mask and tilt your head to the side, staring at him in slight amusement. 

“Forgive me, my king,” your voice drips with honey, not sounding apologetic at all. “I’ve been busy… with matters related to you, of course.”

He hums, eyes narrowing in disapproval at your words. Normally, he’d slit the throat of anyone who dared to lie so blatantly to his face like that. However, he’s quite used to your attitude, and for some reason, you’re the only one allowed to speak with him in such a way. Till certain extents, of course. Since, he has other priorities at the moment, he can take the time to discipline you later. 

Right now, he’s a king in need to speak with his kingdom’s most skilled assassin. 

“I have a mission for you.” He’s on his feet now, hands joined together on his back. Halting steps only once he stands very close, you can see that he has his attention fixed on the hilt of the sword strapped to your back. Face unreadable as usual. Every now and then, he does that. You know he’s curious about the nature of your fine blade, since it’s a rare one, but never voices any questions about it. Not that you’re interested in telling him about it either.

“Yes, my king?”

“I need you to kill my brother.” His eyes drift back to yours, and if you weren’t… well, you, certainly you’d flinch from the icy fire swirling in his obsidian irises and how he casually just ordered the death of another person. Not a regular one, though. A member of his family that’s been missing for decades. His twin brother. Who’s caused him absolutely no harm. Actually, they’ve never even met since the day they were separated at birth.

But that was all you knew. Almost everybody knows that the circumstances of their birth were highly complicated. Rebels took over the palace when the queen at the same time brought her sons into the world in her chambers. All they know is that, amidst all that ruckus, the queen died and one of her sons was taken away. The king turned into a bitter man and raised his remaining son with the wrath of a dozen tigers. A few years ago, he perished, and his cruel heir, who stands before you now, took over his place.

No one knew anything about the other. At least, not until now.

“Oh, so you’ve found him?” Despite your question, you’re not really surprised. Everything the king wants, he gets. It was just a matter of time. What bewildered you was his choice not to task you with such an important mission this time. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“You know I don’t trust you,” He states as a matter-of-fact, reaching to place a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The scar that adorns one of his eyes, a vertical line that goes from above his eyebrow to the middle of his cheek, seems to glitter in the moonlight like the piece of golden jewelry dangling from his ears. You’re briefly hypnotized by it before regaining composure, adjusting your back.

“After everything I’ve done for you?” You pout in feigned hurt, and he smirks.

“You mean, after everything you’ve done for my gold,” He stresses the last two words with an arch of his brow, “We both know your loyalty lies with whoever pays you the highest. Which I, for one, do not judge, if it’s what you’re wondering…”

He brushes your lower lip with his thumb, tracing it along your jaw and descending down your hairline in gentle caresses. Leaning into you, he nibbles your earlobe and pulls at it with his teeth in a way he knows that makes you shiver. “But if you ever so much as think of betraying me,” He continues in a whisper, hand halting its movements before abruptly wrapping around your neck, cutting off your air supply, “I won’t hesitate to have your head severed from your body and hung high for everyone to see.”

Stepping back with a satisfied look on his face, you gasp as soon as he releases your neck and rub at it in order to soothe the burn left by his grip. You stare at him with eyebrows knitted in annoyance but he doesn’t seem to care less. The abrupt change of his demeanor disturbs you more than the threat itself. He’s not the type of man to be messed with. That much is clear. A tiger seemingly calm and controlled in the surface still is a dangerous predator in its core. 

But if the king is a tiger, you are a serpent. 

Cunning and cautious, you know just when to strike. Which is why he also knows not to underestimate you — and also what attracts him the most about you. Sure you are physically stunning, but he’s been with plenty of other dazzling women before, including his queen. However, they all eventually bored him to death. Even though, he denies it to himself, he loves being challenged by a woman. There was something about your sassy behavior and love for danger that lured him in. Perhaps even something that reminded him of himself. The desire for power and willingness to do anything to achieve it. 

“That wasn’t necessary, my king,” you do your best to conceal the anger in your tone, but you know there was an edge to it he surely caught. You absolutely hate being threatened — specially by a man — which is something he knows very well and uses to personal advantage. While others usually show fear, you look as if you’re ready to pounce on him. Oddly, rather than irritated, that makes him highly aroused. “You know I’ll never betray you.”

“For your sake, let’s hope you’re right.” He’s close to you once more, being unable not to touch you every time you’re in his presence. The king licks his lips and begins trailing open mouthed kisses on the column of your throat, one hand at the back of your neck while the other encircles your waist. With a tilt of your head back to give him more access, you close your eyes and melt into his touch. His mouth on you feels undeniably good. But more than that, the power you know you hold on him — whether he’s aware or not — is what truly makes you buzz with excitement. 

“How do you want me to do it?” He pauses to look back at you, pupils blown wide with lust. You’re pretty much sure yours mirror his own. Pondering over your question for a bit, he realises you’re talking about the assassination of his brother, and shrugs.

“However you see fit. Just make sure not to draw too much attention. Sneak into his place and poison him, or slit his throat while he sleeps. I don’t care. Just do it as fast as possible. I couldn’t find him before because he grew up in the outskirts of the city, but now he’s back. It’ll be easy for you to find him.” You nod in understanding and he picks up from where he left, this time attacking your mouth in a hungry kiss that you immediately respond to with same intensity. “Enough with that talk. We can discuss the details later. I need you for something else now.”

You laugh at his impatience and he doesn’t appreciate it one bit, biting hard on your lip enough to draw blood as retaliation. A wince is your response but he’s already pulling your sword out of your shoulders and dropping it to the floor so he can lift your body and do the same to you on his bed. With his body finally covering yours, he starts to get rid of both your clothes and his, desperate to relieve himself and hear your moans echo through his royal chambers as he pounds into you throughout the whole night until you leave before the first rays of sunshine illuminate the palace.

[gologames]

4 years before Halver Steam page

Since the summer of 2017, my mate and I have been persistently creating an unusual game

This is what Halver looks like now. You can add the game to the Wishlist to follow its development further ― https://store.steampowered.com/app/1358440/Halver

How it began

At that time, I became very ill. To distract myself and again return to the usual rhythm of life, I decided to make a new game

I wanted to come up with something small, about three months of development. All my games involve logic ― ASCII roguelike, color splitting, GROW game, VR Tarot cards, grand strategy, quiz, GO game

Therefore, I was looking for an idea based on a good toy, space for combinations and creativity. And I thought ― let’s say I have a block/cube. I will shoot to him and divide it into two equal parts. Exactly into equal parts. Then if the block was vertical, then I can jump and move the upper half. And if it stood horizontally, then one of the halves may fall. And this process can be repeated over and over again

First prototype

I made a working version overnight and hurried to my mate the next morning ― “I have a brilliant idea, let’s make a game.” In general, the idea really turned out to be quite good. So far, I do not know of another game with the same principle of mechanics

Later, we came up with many other blocks besides the usual (heavy, transparent, jumping, portal, gravity, magnetic, etc.), which can also be divided in half. The basic idea provides many options for the development of mechanics

First build of the game | Halver

Basic concepts

Pretty quickly, we formed the basic principles of the game

As a visual design, we chose a blueprint style, a combination of strict lines and vivid visual effects. I had to puzzle over the development of this combination many times

Basic principles of the game | Halver

The hero’s task is to get to the exit from the level, cutting various blocks in half, which can be initially fixed and immovable. To cut the block, the hero makes a shot. This set of mechanics makes the gaming experience unique

We introduced a rule ― the block is divided in half depending on the side of the bullet hitting it. For example, if a projectile hits the left side of a block, then the block will be divided horizontally. And if in the upper side, then vertically

I thought about different trajectories of a shot / types of weapons ― minigun, laser with ricochet, grenade, mortar. The last variant with a curve path of the projectile turned out to be the most convenient for level design. In this case, the player can often cut the block both vertically and horizontally without changing his position

Level design

One way to find inspiration for level design is to put whatever you have onto the scene and see what happens

“Big level” of early version of the game, where we tested the mechanics

So we did it while figuring out the key features of our game’s level design:

Levels of the game are arranged in the order in which player learns new mechanics

More compact levels preferred than huge

The structure of the level foundation forms a graphic composition

I’ll tell you more about the latter. The early levels of the game were reminiscent of a regular platformer. The foundation blocks were placed for ease of movement, but nothing more. Because of this, the player was often forced to simply engage in “walking”

Early levels of the game | Halver

Our game resembles a puzzle in which a rectangular character was placed. Therefore, it is logical that the very shape of the level resembles a certain silhouette or image. This complicates the task, but creates harmony, unity of form and meaning

Plot

He’s gone. Indeed, it was a long way towards this decision

Initially, we had several scenario sketches:

Overpopulation in the world of the future and people “move” to VR

A certain Doctor created a copy of his consciousness

As a child, he invented a kind of game about “blueprint and programming”

The player had to figure out the rules of this game, learning the details of the plot, trying to understand what was going on in general. We even ordered voice acting for the storyline ― https://soundcloud.com/gologames/sets/doctor-strories/s-YdEPC (“Doctor stories” on Russian language)

But under the weight of accumulated inconsistencies, we abandoned the plot in the direction of complete abstraction. Only very attentive players will be able to see the narrative details that remain in the level design

What are the plans?

To create a demo version and further develop the game for release. The implementation of the editor and level generator is in question

Everything to make it comfortable to jump | Level “Sort Station”

The fact is that even the levels from the main campaign of the game most likely will not cover the potential of its mechanics

Portal block connects the cut halves | Level “Gutter”

For example, we will most likely add this idea, with a “colony” of blocks absorbing everything in its path, to the campaign

Rolling blocks turn other blocks into themselves | Level “Colony”

But maybe you have ideas for levels that are not yet in the game?

Gravity block slows down blocks in its field | Level “Milky Way”

Links

Steam ― https://store.steampowered.com/app/1358440/Halver/

Twitter ―  https://twitter.com/GoloGamesStudio

Discord ― https://discord.gg/fsVQSHnv

[libermachinae]

Tags: Teen and Up Audiences, Major Character Death, M/M, Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime, Dreadwing/Optimus Prime, Optimus Prime, Dreadwing (Transformers), Skyquake (Transformers), Post-Predacons Rising (Prime Movie), Canonical Character Death, dead characters meeting in the afterlife, Mutual Pining, Enemies to Lovers, speed version, First Kiss, DreadOP Day Word Count: 3148 Summary:  Deep in the Well, Optimus runs into a familiar face. Twice over, in fact. Notes: DreadOP Day, you say? 👀 No way I wasn’t going to put something together for this.

---

Heat.

Like the friction experienced by a meteor hurtling down, destined to expire, Optimus flew into the light at the center of his world and felt welcome.

His Autobots had stood under many foreign stars and held under lights curious, interrogative, and revealing, but he knew none would ever hold such presence or penetrate so deeply as the one they all emerged from. It sunk into the seams between plating, prying and leveraging until the gaps yawned and with a click, the excess plating fell away.

And he was a protoform again: delicate mesh and wires and struts exposed to the impossible light. It was in him, sinking between the atoms of his body until they shivered and shook, dancing away from each other. Metal melted, edges dulling and structures collapsing, and drop by drop Optimus felt it all fall away, one billion beads sprinkling away like shards of glass in a night sky.

There was no pain. Not here. Optimus stepped out of his body while it was still partially solid and let all of it fall away, into an abyss he could not see against the light.

And from there he had no way to tell which direction was which, or if he was still moving. All he knew was light, to such an extent that it took him another moment to realize he was seeing it, that even without a body the world around him persisted. He pressed in on himself, felt it out. He considered his name. Time passed, as he explored the boundless confines of his new existence, and he considered for a time whether he might try to close his eyes, or let the light pull him micron by micron into eternity.

As it turned out, he did not need to worry so much about his choice. Time finished passing (which, if he recalled correctly, was not in the nature of the thing, and yet) and he saw a point, what he could only describe as a single unit of contrast against the light. Its darkness grounded him, reminding him who he was and where he had come from (though not for how long he had been away) and he endeavored to draw himself to it by mechanisms it did not occur to him to consider closely.

It was a point, then a spot, then a dot. It developed variation in its tone, darker splotches on the bottom that developed into shadows, its squirming edges sharpening into corners. It took on dimensions, stretched, vertical expanding while the horizontal stayed squashed. Lighter grey tones highlighted the darker: reflections, though he could not tell their source, when every particle between here and there blasted the same white light.

Still, somehow, shadows slid and clipped together, and forming the façade of a simple Cybertronian house. Minimal decorations outside and the windows were closed, but still it had the appearance of a place lived in: a couple of oil cans sat on the front porch, behind two steps that led down to empty, and in one of the upper windows he thought he saw the shine of aged crystal growths. There was also noise coming from inside, voices too dulled to understand.

Directly in front of the building now, he could not see either side and so did not know how far back it extended. He had the impression, though, it was a comfortable size. Only as big as the space its occupants needed, no room for unwanted excess.

His momentum carried him the rest of the way, until he could place his pede on the first step and walk up to the door on his own. He did not need to send a ping, which was a lucky thing, since his comm suite had fallen away with the rest of his processor. The door slid open for him, and he stepped inside.

The gray shading of the exterior persisted inside, clear shadows that built around him the image of a home almost like what one would have found on Cybertron before the war. The metal walls were painted with a matte finish, the seams between them cut with delicate patterns of straight lines and right angles. Like the door, the entry way was large enough to accommodate him twice over, a feature of lower caste residences, but he could feel the hum of complicated circuitry throughout the foundation, optimization the caliber of which only the upper caste could have afforded.

“Optimus!” He startled at the noise. “Stop staring at my walls and come in.”

He stepped walked down the main hallway and turned at the first open door. Within was a sitting room, a couch on one end with a table and chairs closer. Two identical figures sat there, a cube of energon in front of each of them with a third before an empty chair.

“Well?” Dreadwing asked. Skyquake said nothing but stared at the intruder.

“Am I welcome?” He did not know what this place was or what it meant for him to have found himself here, but it clearly belonged to Dreadwing and Skyquake both. He had no wish to insert himself somewhere he did not belong.

“My brother has been waiting for you,” Skyquake said. “It seems that somehow, in the months I missed, you managed to gain his respect.”

Optimus glanced at Dreadwing.

“I would be honored if that were so,” he said.

Dreadwing’s lips twitched and his helm tilted to the empty chair. So much of the way they had spoken to each other in life had been based on the unspoken, it was no surprise it would continue here, where they were stripped to their purest elements.

Optimus stepped inside and took the seat. Sitting here, he faced the windows, but even through the cracks in the shade none of that overwhelming light came through. In here, it was peaceful, comfortable, like it had been designed with the intention that they might stay here for some time.

Dreadwing raised his cube to his mouth.

“How did it happen?” he asked around the rim.

“I sacrificed myself,” Optimus said. “The Allspark was at risk, so I drew it into my own frame and returned it to its rightful place.”

“Then the Well is back online?” Skyquake asked.

“Yes. Cybertron will awaken to new life once more.” He smiled, imagining new beings waking up, drawing themselves to the surface of a world that was theirs to build upon. He wished he could have been there to see it, but with his Autobots to guide them, he knew the next generation would be well looked after.

“And the war?” Dreadwing asked.

“Megatron followed your path, actually,” Optimus said, turning to his former assassin. “He renounced the cause and turned his back on his army. He will not be back.”

But Dreadwing’s lips curled down, and he set the energon back on the table with force. It seemed he had drunk none.

“Do not compare me to Megatron,” Dreadwing said. “He made a mockery of a cause we dedicated our lives to fighting for. I betrayed the Decepticons because to continue supporting them would have gone against my beliefs. If he simply left, then the Decepticons remain a flawed entity, and there is no honor in abandoning something one has the power to change.”

Optimus listened and nodded along.

“I will refrain, if that is what you prefer,” he said. “But if the Decepticons are as far gone as you say, are you sure it is still possible for anyone to change them from within?”

“Megatron could,” Skyquake said. “If any force in the universe were powerful enough, it would be him.”

And Optimus found he could not argue with that, so he nodded and attempted to take a sip of the energon he had been given. It tasted like energon, and he felt the impression of it moving down his intake, but the cube itself did not seem to drain. No matter how long he drank, it seemed to stay at the same level.

So curious he was about the phenomenon that he did not realize how long his silence had passed before he heard snickering. He lowered the cube and looked around: both twins were laughing at him.

“This place operates on its own rules,” Dreadwing explained. “Too many to bother explaining in detail. You will find discrepancies and you will adapt, and eventually it will become as natural as life once was.”

“So, this is death?” Optimus confirmed.

Dreadwing tilted his helm, first to one side, then the other.

“Something like it,” he said. “You will find the specifics don’t matter so much. We are here.”

“And occasionally we are not,” Skyquake said, rising from his seat. His cube, also full, remained on the table.

“You’re leaving?” Optimus asked.

“Stepping out,” Skyquake corrected. “My brother has been looking forward to your arrival.” He grinned, and Optimus turned to catch Dreadwing’s reaction. Too late: his expression had already shifted back to annoyed-neutral.

“I suppose so,” Optimus said. “Your revenge has been achieved, after all. though unfortunately not by your hand.” It was easier than he might have expected to make light of his own demise, or the effort both these mechs had expended to hasten him toward it. Perhaps such things dimply did not matter so much, here on the other side of the Well.

“You think my mission was for revenge?” Dreadwing asked, leaning forward on the table. “For what? Skyquake’s death was just another in a long line of our being separated by Cybertronians who thought themselves worthy of making such decisions. It was a question of honor, Optimus: Skyquake was denied an honorable death, and as his kin it was my responsibility to secure that honor in his name.” He traced patterns on the table as he spoke, like he was drawing the concept of honor and the way it could be passed around like energon siphoned between lines.

“In my estimation, you did,” he said. He glanced at Skyquake. “If you are unsatisfied, though, I would be willing to duel again.”

“Perhaps,” Skyquake said. “If Dreadwing decides you are worthy enough to stay.” He gave them a short bow, then ducked away, disappearing into the same hall Optimus had entered from. He heard a door activate elsewhere and was not sure whether it was to the exterior of the house. It didn’t seem there was anywhere to go out there, but then, he still had a great deal to learn about this place.

He turned back to his remaining host.

“He seemed to imply that I’m being tested,” he pointed out.

“Somewhat,” Dreadwing said, leaning back in his chair. Optimus didn’t think he had ever seen the Decepticon lieutenant comfortable before.

“What is your determination so far?” Optimus asked.

The corners of Dreadwing’s lips pulled up. A grin wasn’t the right work for it, nor a smirk; it was the attempt of a mech who had never tried to form a single cordial relationship in his life to look friendly.

“You are entirely too optimistic, Optimus,” he said. “Don’t you remember the last time we spoke?”

“You handed over the Omega Keys and offered us an opportunity to revive Cybertron under Autobot control,” Optimus said. He could never forget it: the memory often replayed in the last few moments before he fell into recharge.

“I also refused to join your cause or leave my own,” Dreadwing pointed out. “We were enemies for most of our lives, Optimus.”

“And now all those matters rest in our past,” Optimus said. He gestured to the window, though he had no idea which direction the living world lay in. “Cybertron lives again, headed toward a peace founded on the same ideals you fought for. We may not be able to witness it, but we can know that all of our actions, battles fought and sacrifices made, were building to this end.” He glanced to the hallway. “Perhaps it is bold of me to assume, but I feel it worthwhile to ask: have you found happiness?”

He looked back. Dreadwing was watching him, that forced smile eased into something more natural for his handsome face.

“There is no simple way to answer such a question,” he said.

“We have time,” Optimus pointed out. He stood from his chair, taking a moment to look around the room. It was a utilitarian space, but there were a few decorations that betrayed some sentimentality on the part of its owners: image displays on the walls, a mantle with a collection of = stones from other worlds, and a tin of wax that had been left out all contributed to a personal feeling that allowed Optimus to relax a bit more.

For Dreadwing and Skyquake, this place was home, and they had welcomed him into it. Whatever hostility might remain between them, nothing could overshadow that fact.

He made his way to the couch, its back against the windows, and sat down. It was comfortable, though he had no way to know whether that was because of the strange magic of this place, the make of the furniture itself, or the fact that he no longer had a body in which to feel discomfort. Dreadwing remained at the table, and he watched Optimus as he settled, helm rested on one hand.

“I wished to live to see Cybertron’s revival,” Dreadwing said. “I wished to watch if from the air once more, the way its inhabitants moved as if in a perpetual dance.” His hand moved across the surface of the table, imitating traffic. “I was assigned to energon drilling, and occasionally tasked with passing rapid communication between facilities. It was during my flights I started to get a sense of how truly large Cybertron is, and how much was being denied to me and others of my caste.”

“I had a similar experience,” Optimus said. “While working in the archives, I would receive data that indicated a much wider world than I had experienced myself. Until Alpha Trion’s intervention I had no means to reach beyond.”

“So, you understand what a gift it is to behold Cybertron as it lives,” Dreadwing said. “Not everyone does. But I digress, I did not live to witness it, and so in that way I do not know if I can call what I have here happiness. How can I claim a peaceful afterlife if I did not first achieve that which I desired in life?”

It was a valid question. But by the way his wings relaxed down, and how he gazed at Optimus with a look like a familiar friend, it seemed Dreadwing already knew the answer.

“I have spent more consecutive days with Skyquake here than I ever did in life,” he said, ducking his optics. His voice was gentler suddenly, as though speaking too loudly would make his joy obvious and break the spell. “It is what I imagined security must feel like. We part ways, and I know he will always come back; neither of us will ever be forced to choose to leave the other. Even if we had lived to see Cybertron again, any number of things could have intervened to separate us. To exist without that fear is, I believe, what happiness might feel like.”

“Then I am happy for you, old friend,” Optimus said. He smiled and hoped Dreadwing recognized his sincerity.

There was a beat of contemplation, and then Dreadwing stood and approached, broadcasting his movements before he made them. Optimus was not sure the sofa would be wide enough for both of them, but when Dreadwing sat the space was perfect, just wide enough that their knees could have touched, though Optimus kept his own drawn in for now.

“And you?” Dreadwing asked.

“Hm?”

“What will it take for you to find your happiness here?” He was facing forward, but Optimus still got the sense he was being paid attention to.

He turned over the question for a moment, inspecting it, though not too closely. He trusted the Allspark would do him no harm, which meant he trusted Dreadwing and his questions, and wanted to give them as honest an answer as he could fathom.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s not something I’ve considered in a very long time.” This was a good start, though. Knowing that Dreadwing had made it here and found peace gave him hope. He had lived a long life and done so much; he was ready for a place where he could rest.

“If you leave here and wander a bit,” Dreadwing gestured behind them, toward the window, “you will find the Pious Pools, as they were before the channel was blown up and they were drained. Perhaps a walk will give you guidance?”

Optimus misunderstood him.

“Anywhere I could go with you would be a gift.”

That wasn’t a bad thing, though.

By the time Optimus realized Dreadwing had meant for him to go on his own, the latter was already watching him with a smile on his face like it had snuck on and was hiding from him. He leaned closer, hand up to trace a delicate claw over Optimus’ audial.

“If we had lived,” he said, “would you have walked with me then? There was a trail from the lower end of Staniz that led up into the foothills, a dented trail formed by the weight of all the mechs who walked it. A mile out, the city disappeared, and the wind would blow so strong it would threaten to knock you over and send you tumbling back the way you had come. Would you have preserved that path while the rest of Staniz was restored? Would you have walked it with me, allowed me to hold you against the strength of our planet?”

“Why would it not have been me holding you?” Optimus asked, and then what must have been lips, warm lips, were pressed to his own.

He shut off his optics, leaned in, chased Dreadwing when he started to pull away. It did not matter that they were without frames: they kissed, held each other, phantom plating slotting together. Dreadwing had a scent and Optimus locked onto it, archived it, saved it to what might have been the fabric of the Well itself. He trailed his fingers along a ghostly wing and felt a shiver run through Dreadwing, strong enough to break them apart and force their optics back online.

They stared at each other, panting. Optimus did not know his mouth was still open and he wouldn’t have cared regardless.

“You’re beautiful,” he blurted.

And Dreadwing smiled, and there was no fleeing from it, no hiding. He smiled at Optimus, and happiness no longer seemed like such an unknowable thing.

“The wonders of life yet to be lived,” he murmured. And then he kissed Optimus again.

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Making use of the last approach, the possibilities of the registration being off by the end of words would certainly be a whole lot greater because of the truth that you would absolutely be attempting to cover a big location.<br> 6. Make it Match<br> With all the focus on more recent fleecewear designs, it makes good sense to match the needlework style with the garment.<br> Today's fleecewear often tends to have a weather-beaten appearance. Putting a crisp, high-tech-looking design on a garment might present an ordinary comparison as well as out-of-place look.<br> Using tone-on-tone string colors, or perhaps creating a retro-looking layout, would certainly be a far much better option. On larger things, think of raw-edge appliqué, which calls for much less precision than normal appliqué, and likewise you can use a present design.<br> To do raw-edge appliqué, just stitch the positioning line as you would definitely with a regular appliqué. The distinction is that you then reduced the item a little larger than the placement line. Oftentimes, you do not require to do a total satin-stitch border on the appliqué item, just a running-stitch tack down. The revealed side of the textile will absolutely battle royal slowly (you can assist in the process if you would definitely like), producing the weather-beaten look that matches the garment.<br> Time development therefore do layouts. Our task as garments designers is to keep up and additionally adjust with what we give. Going beyond that to enhance the garments can create a much more favorable outcome for our customers, which's what keeps them returning. learn more

[dustindoyz430]

From Around The Web: 20 Awesome Photos Of Ecommerce Conversion Rate Optimization

Insanely neat Ideas That Is Seo Really Complex? Will Change Forever

Table of ContentsInsanely cool Ideas That What Is Seo & Why Is It Important? Will Change SoonWhat to do about How Hard Is To Learn Seo? in 2021Some Details about Advanced Seo Techniques That Men Overlook

One is technical SEO. The markup languages have actually ended up being more crucial to SEO. The manner in which sites are built are more vital and more scrutinized by the algorithms. And then, second is content marketing. We can no longer just game the system by creating low-quality links. Now, we need to produce high-quality content that attracts authentic links.

Now, in contemporary SEO, we need to do really actually great content to earn those quality links. And, that's challenging. It's time consuming, it's pricey, and type nimbus marketing check my blog of low-cost SEO firms aren't going to do the work required to get real outcomes in SEO. So, if you ask me why SEO is tough, it's because over the past 3 to 5 years Google has actually gotten smarter to the truth that the algorithms could be gamed and now you have to work harder to get the very same results you did previously.

" Why is SEO harder for small companies?" This question has turned up a couple of times in our organic keyword referrers. We've been stating for months that SEO is getting harder, and that it's specifically tough for SMBs to excel at. However why? Why is SEO simpler for the huge canines? Make no mistake, it is even if it's getting harder for them too.

This is the # 1 factor SEO and whatever else! is harder for little businesses. It's an old saw but it's real: You have to invest money to generate income. The reason business spend cash on marketing and marketing is because they provide ROI, however often there's a tipping point. For instance we've seen small companies that didn't see ROI from Pay Per Click till they raised their daily invest, counter-intuitively.

The Only Guide to When Did Seo Get So Complicated? You're Going To Need

If you can commit more cash to your seo efforts, you'll robert portillo this content see much better returns. Bigger companies have larger budgets they can designate towards hiring more employees, bringing in top-notch consultants, purchasing "big material" and fantastic website design, and so on. OK, I lied: This is connected for # 1.

Less heads on the marketing group suggests that everybody is managing several jobs and no one can focus 100% of their time on SEO. Some organizations are so little they have simply a couple of individuals doing WHATEVER, making SEO greatly harder. Real SEO takes a lot of time. Producing rewarding material, optimizing your websites, promoting your possessions and securing links, running A/B tests none of this is easy.

21 wacky things About What Is Seo & Why Is It Important? That Will Change the Way You think

When you're brief on resources, SEO-related jobs constantly seem to get pressed to the bottom of the list. Blogging and other kinds of content production are a prime example everybody's got the finest of intentions, pledges are made (" I'll get you that post by the end of the week!") but absolutely nothing ever truly gets written and released.

8 things Is Seo Really Complex? are Not

That's why big business hire a devoted SEO no reasons. Again, this is basically a resource issue. An SEO specialist who lives and breathes search has time (and incentive) to follow market publications and keep up with the rapidly altering search landscape. They'll understand if Google has released a big algorithm change or other considerable upgrade that might impact your rankings and technique.

SMB marketers are often too busy trying to keep up with their own market vertical to invest any time following the twists and turns of SEO. Here at WordStream, we have an advantage due to the fact that search marketing is what we do we have to keep up with search. However what if you sell shoes or medical equipment? Your morning reading is going to look extremely various.

All other things being equal, Google ranks huge brand names higher in the search engine result due to the fact that they have user behavior data showing that individuals click more often on recognizable brand name sites. So if you wish to contend on a keyword that larger brands are likewise pursuing, you'll have to work that much harder to show your little company marketing blog material matters and worth the user's time.

Big organizations weren't born that way they started little and grew. So huge companies have actually usually been around longer. If you've been operating as a small company, succeeding however staying little, for several years, that's fantastic you'll have a benefit. However lots of small companies haven't been around that long, and it's tougher for them to rank due to robert portillo my company the fact that their younger websites Nimbus Marketing have not accrued authority and a fantastic link profile yet.

Aside from the truth that Google likes older domains, big brand names have merely been doing SEO longer, so they have actually more things and they understand what works and what doesn't. They can repeat previous successes and repurpose their content properties, instead of going back to square one all the time. If you're a small company, opportunities are your site isn't simply newer, it's smaller sized too.

What to do with It's Content And It's Links in 2021

Truly huge websites get more traffic in part since the sea of search inquiries they have the prospective to rank for is a lot bigger. And huge brand names have bigger websites because (you thought it) they have more resources to funnel toward producing content, and since they offer more product or services.

Enterprises can manage to invest in terrific software. The in-house SEO at a huge company has tools at his disposal that automate away a few of the lengthy tasks involved with search marketing. They can manage to buy up for much better analytics, much better keyword research, much better reporting tools, much better conversion optimization tools, and so on, and so on.

More manual work also takes more time. Big sites and brand names with terrific reputations tend to get links without even attempting. It also assists to have some weight behind your name when you actively connect for links. If you're trying to get media protection in a huge publication, it assists tremendously if they have actually already heard of you.

[flameofchaos]

Whispers in the Dark - The Slayers Fanfic

A word or two from me: 

the main ship: Xellos x Lina Inverse . Necessary warnings will be included in the beginning of every chapter.

Special thanks for @naiokiara for being my Beta <3 and @wicked-game-black-butler for being my spiritual support <3

Prelude

Somewhere in the Beginning of Ages.

The Darkness moved in the astral dimension, forming, gathering and… slowly splitting. The Greater Beast Zelas Metallium, one of five the most powerful subordinates of the Dark Lord Shabranigdo was already tired, but her efforts weren't over yet. 

The Sea of Chaos had created them, Mazoku, and Zelas could only follow the need The Lord of Nightmares filled them up with: destruction. 

The material world existed, giving them pain, annoying, burning their astral beings. It had to be destroyed. It had to be changed into ashes all together with the Mazoku, and melted back to the Sea of Chaos. They needed more Monsters to achieve that. The World was huge. 

The Five Lords of Shabranigdo instinctively understood what to do. Four of them created each two cruel children: a General who would lead their army of darkness and a Priest who would lead mortals to their doom. 

Zelas Metallium had another idea. Why divide your own power so much, when you can create one perfect servant? A General and Priest at once, her only and the most perfect child.

The Darkness moved again like a snake around the smaller, weaker one. The part of her. The arm with which she was going to crush the world.

Wake up, my Xellos. Wake up and spread destruction for me, so we can be one again and return to the Mother of Chaos. We have to die and the World will die with us.

The smaller blackness was twirling faster and faster, taking the form of a tornado created from evil astral power.

His first form, but not his last. 

Xellos took his first “breath” and his newborn, still fragile mind was filled with the first feelings: hatred and frustration.

 He shouldn’t exist. He wanted to die at the moment he became alive. The newborn Mazoku trembled in suffering, his thoughts clinging more to his “mother”, not wanting to divide from her. Zelas showed him a vision of the World: living creatures there, their aim, and… she left him alone.

The twirling dark tornado scowled in the emptiness of the astral dimension.

Chapter 1

Present time. The Outer Lands after Hellmaster Phibrizzo's death.

The sorceress reached for another plate filled with a tasty-smelling meal, practically taking it from right under the nose of her comrade, a swordmaster, which caused his growl of disappointment. The gingerhead witch answered with her own look, full of lighting as a threat. 

What could she do? The fried shrimp in pasta at this inn was delicious. She wasn’t going to share it with anyone. Not even Gourry.

The last few days had been complicated and the plot twists of unplanned (or more or less planned by their new “friend” Filia ul Copt, the Priestess of Light) accidents led them into those lands outside the Barrier, where almost no one knew real magic, and had mixed them, adventurers, into a prophecy about the end of the world.

Again, others expected Lina to be a hero.

No vacation for me from dealing with Monsters, she thought, a little tired, but happy that on their way to the Flare Dragon King’s Temple, they had found such a cosy place to eat and rest tonight.

Zelgadis was resting on the other chair, drowned into a book he’d found in the library. He was always focused on his search for a cure for the curse of his chimeric appearance. Amelia also was somewhere near, probably teaching simple people about justice and law.

It was so comfortable at the inn now. Even a bard was performing, telling about legends and heroes. Lina was listening with one ear, though. Often she had opportunities to look at “legends” from definitely too close for her taste, and she knew too well that being a hero was overrated. 

Tasty food and cosy beds were the only things that could reward Lina’s suffering.

“We shouldn’t stay here,” complained Filia, approaching their table. “The night is bright. We can continue our journey! The prophecy clearly said! We will be doomed soon!”

Lina Inverse gave the blonde woman a rather gloomy look, chewing shrimp. The priestess and her notions for a mission. For sure it was Filia’s first time rescuing the world.

“I fully understand it and  -- Don't touch this fillet, Gourry! It's mine! --  and I respect your sacred role, but… Filia… You are a golden dragon. We are just mortals. We are tired! How can we defeat all the evil the prophecy will throw at us if we are so exhausted?”

“One night here won’t change anything,” interrupted a familiar male voice. The adventurers turned their heads to see a man in a black travelling priest outfit sitting at the nearest table. Dark straight hair hanging a little below jaw level, in the light of the fireplace, seemed to shine with a violet tint, and characteristically half-closed eyes alarmed the group more than a bucket of cold water poured on their heads, because they were the only ones in the inn who knew that those eyelids were covering reptilian vertical pupils. “Better stay here and have some fun. And hush!!! Listen to this story. It’s a good one!"

Lina raised her eyebrows, focusing her attention on the bard's tale. It was about a girl who fell in love with a Mazoku who wanted her dead, but in the end the pure soul of the maiden had won and the evil creature loved her too, abandoning his dark paths.

“Oh my. I will cry.” The violet-haired priest rubbed his eyes in a gesture of being touched and clapped his hands. “Beautiful story!”

“But Mazoku can’t love, Xellos,” noted Gourry brilliantly, blinking in confusion.

“Oh, don’t ruin a great tale with facts, my friend. I adore fairytales. And tea. Mortals’ inventions never cease to amaze me.” The man sighed in delight and took a tiny sip from the cup.  “Anyway, hello! <3” An innocent smile brightened his sympathetic face, which made mortals treat him like one of themselves. 

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, YOU STINKY GARBAGE?” Filia finally recovered from the shock caused by the sudden appearance of a high-ranking Mazoku in the inn. Like always, her allergy to the greatest enemy of her race was stronger than anything.

“Oh my. Are you deaf? I’m greeting everyone. You too, my sweet Miss Filia.” Xellos’ smile became wider when he directed his next statement to the bard: “Please! Tell us another FAIRYTALE. Maybe now about the good manners of golden dragons of light?” 

Filia’s face became grey, then blue and finally red, when she realised that their group was  the center of attention for all the people gathered at the inn. The blonde priestess grunted, trying to calm down and not give that pathetic Monster a chance to humiliate her more. The dragon girl smiled politely at the violet-haired man and Lina thought that the priestess’ delicate face would crack into pieces from that forced expression at any moment.

“Oh, Xellos, what a… surprise! So nice to...ekhm... see you!” mumbled Filia.

“The feeling is mutual.” The Monster opened his eyes a little more to fix the pissed dragon lady with his mean amethyst irises.

“How is your... health?”

“Good, I can’t complain, thank you very much!” Exclaimed Xellos happily, his voice sweet like a poisoned chocolate.

Lina rubbed her temples. She had to part those two or soon the town would stand in flames. Like always.

Filia clenched her jaw and sat next to the sorceress as people in the inn returned again to their own business. Her beautiful blue eyes met Lina’s with a clear, angry message: Do something with him.

It wasn’t easy, though. Xellos' presence was a funny problem. Has anyone ever seen a chicken getting a hawk to just go away if it doesn’t want to? Chickens should sit quietly and pray that a hunter isn’t hungry. At least not at the moment. 

So the group should be happy that Xellos (for whatever reasons he has this time) was in a chatting and not killing mood, and Lina was very aware of it, praying that fate wouldn’t ever have them cross paths as strict enemies. Well, officially, they were. Mazoku desired to destroy the world. Humans desired to survive. But who says that they have to jump unprovoked at each other's throats? Especially when Xellos seemed to not be very friendly towards Valgaav. The former servant of Gaav was very thirsty for Lina's blood, as he wanted to avenge his master’s death.

As the saying goes: the enemy of my enemy is my friend.

Lina preferred to keep Xellos on her side, even if the alliance was fragile and temporary.

However, she could understand Filia’s feelings. Zelas Metallium's Priest had had a very significant role during the War of Monster’s Fall, more than a thousand years ago. Xellos murdered hundreds of golden dragons with just a wave of one finger. Maybe Filia was too young to remember that, but her superiors for sure described the massacre to her with details. 

In her place Lina also wouldn’t be very fond of this particular Monster.

“Can I kindly ask you to leave us alone?” Tried again the Dragon Priestess, still with that fake politeness. “I’m reminding you again: I found Miss Lina first and she will help me to rescue the world!”

“And I’m asking again too: Do you really want to quarrel with me about who, you or me, has the most right to use Miss Lina for their own goals?” Xellos took another sip of tea.

“Hey, you both know I am here and I’m hearing you two, right?” The gingerhead sorceress slowly lost her patience. “What do you want, Xellos? Tell us and go away.”

“And should I abandon such a charming dragon lady’s company?” 

Now Lina could literally feel and share Filia’s need to wash that insolent smile off the Mazoku’s face with a fist.

“Maybe I’m just guarding you from another nasty trick of Valgaav’s? You want me around, Miss Lina.” He opened one reptilian eye to measure the sorceress.

The girl wanted to stand up and scream at him. Mostly because he was right. Xellos always found ways to trick them but it was much harder to trick him. It’s not that the Monster could read Lina’s thoughts, but like every Mazoku, he was an empath. The sorceress could almost feel his astral aura licking her emotions. Besides, maybe in his human form Xellos looked harmless, and sometimes he acted like a total dumbass to confuse people, but a fool was the last thing Lina would think him to be. 

In this situation where Valgaav was hunting on Lina, and Xellos was hunting on Valgaav, it was clear that the Monster wanted to talk about the alliance in detail. Well, maybe not in Filia's company.

Lina nodded without a word, agreeing to his unspoken invitation to the “negotiation table”, and the Monster Priest closed his eyes again, finishing his tea and standing up.

“Well, you’re right. We can’t stress our dear Filia so much. She could get wrinkles because of anger. See you soon then.”

“You little shi-” The blonde was ready to jump on her enemy's head, but Gourry quickly covered her mouth, reminding her that as a Servant of Light she should have more control about filthy words.

Lina blinked and then gave a shrug when she couldn't find Xellos. He had vanished as suddenly as he had appeared, so the sorceress opened the menu to order a dessert. Who knew how the rest of the evening would go, so something sweet should reward her with a cool shiver travelling down her spine, even as she thought about what she had agreed.

A lady shouldn't let a man into her room in the middle of night. Especially when that man is the essence of evil.

[erinmansfield]

How To Increase Your Height After 40 Mind Blowing Diy Ideas

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Grow Up Taller Medicine

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[jesawyer]

The Deadfire Post-Postmortem

Since the video of my Digital Dragons postmortem for Deadfire went up, I’ve seen a few questions and comments that I think are worth addressing.  If you haven’t seen the video yet, you can find it here:

First, it’s worth saying that this talk was only supposed to be 45 minutes, with ~15 minutes left for questions.  I overran the 45 minute mark, so please understand that I couldn’t address every criticism people leveled at the game.  I tried to talk about the things that came up most frequently in player and reviewer feedback.

1) Do you think the open world nature of the game contributed to the story/plot/pacing feeling weak?

Yes.  I made the choice to make the game more open and knew that would impact how tight the story and its pacing would feel.  However, even with that choice being made, I still could have done a better job with structuring and pacing the critical path.

For a while, we had a hard limit on where the Defiant could go in the archipelago.  The in-story justification was that the Defiant was damaged and needed expensive repairs that you needed to raise money for.  It could only move in the shallows, which comprised about 1/5 of the total map, encompassing Maje Island, Neketaka, Fort Deadlight, the Woedica pyramid, and some other places.  We removed that, but we weren’t really doing anything with that restriction, story-wise, other than preventing the player from sailing from Port Maje to Hasongo without stopping at Neketaka.

I don’t have hard data for this, but I haven’t seen much anecdotal evidence that many/any players actually make that skip on their first playthrough.  I think whether we (for example) forced the player to funnel through Neketaka/the palace before going to Hasongo is less important to the pacing of the story than disconnection between the factions and Eothas.

Re-working those plot elements may have required explicitly gating the player in the same way that the trial at the end of Act 2 creates a high-drama gate before going to Act 3, but then we’re really going back to the core issue, which was two disconnected plotlines.

Maybe this seems like an evasion, but I’m trying to explain that the plot was not conceived as disconnected to support the game being more open.  The game was actually more closed during development.  We did gate the player until we realized that the plot didn’t demand it.  One could say, “Then why didn’t you change it then?”  Because I made a mistake.  That’s why I cited the plotting and pacing, not the open nature of the game, as the bigger issue.  If the story had demanded more restriction and the pacing felt solid because of it, maybe I would have erred on the side of more restrictions.

And while a weak story is almost purely a negative for players, the map being almost entirely open does have positive aspects, that being the freedom to explore.  Was it worth the trade off?

It doesn’t seem like it, no.

2) Why wasn’t the Penetration system discussed?

Considering the broad nature of the postmortem, the Penetration system seemed like too fine a point to discuss in detail.  The systems aren’t easy to talk about in less than a couple of minutes, and a couple of minutes would have pushed me past the time limit.  Also, in the end, it seems like more players ultimately preferred Penetration to the previous DT system.

I’d like to step back to talk about something at a higher level, which is vertical progression in RPGs.  Most RPGs/CRPGs focus on the vertical progression of numbers: damage, hit points, armor values, resistances, etc.

These numbers feed into formulae to produce a range of outcomes.  The more inputs a number has and the wider the range of values on those inputs, the more quickly the formulae start to break down.  This is why MMORPGs often abstract values and do arcane under-the-hood adjustments or go through periods of “squish” where all of the numbers get recalibrated/normalized (in the case of WoW, both).

Penetration was an attempt to retain the transparent vertical progression of armor and weapon values while constraining/normalizing the input > output of damage vs. armor.  The Pillars 1 DT system is easier to understand on a basic level, but I maintain that’s still harder to make tactical choices based on it.  This is based on observation of players using the system.  The Pillars 2 Penetration system takes longer for players to figure out, but once they figure it out, they generally make better decisions in the system.

Is vertical progression important?  That depends on the audience and the nature of the game as a whole.  Horizontal progression (i.e., unlocking different actions/capabilities) can have much more of an impact, and I prefer games that emphasize horizontal over vertical progression.  But I didn’t make Deadfire to my tastes, specifically, and Pillars 1 + the Infinity Engine games were dominated by the importance of vertical progression.

Personally, I would like to try an armor system where you have light/medium/heavy armor and attacks simply have light/medium/heavy penetration, there is no numerical progression in that relationship, and armor and weapons (including magical ones) gain extra/additional cool abilities instead of progressing on a numbers treadmill.

3) How was ship-to-ship combat, which is seemingly not that complicated, so expensive?

It was so expensive because it was an entirely custom system that re-used almost no assets from the rest of the game.  Every sound you hear in ship-to-ship, every drawing of a ship you see at various distances/states of decay, every custom string listing actions and consequences, the cue system, every piece of user interface, was custom.

One of our system designers came up with this concept of ship-to-ship combat because he believed it would be resource-light.  I cut it after two iterations because it was very obvious to me at that point that it was going to be arduously resource-heavy.

I honestly think that if we had made ship-to-ship combat a real-time with pause system more like combat in Pirates!, it would have ultimately been less expensive and much more fun for more players.

4) Wow, you really don’t get why the game sucks, do you?

A game can suck in myriad ways for different people.  The ways I talked about are the ways that came up most frequently for players and reviewers.  I mentioned that at the beginning of the talk, but it’s worth saying again here.

If you’d like me to address the way in which you thought the game sucked, just ask me a question here and I’ll try to answer it.

[bluehhj]

listen to me — chapter 42

LISTEN TO ME — 0042

listen to me masterlist;

WORDS: 1.6K

Seungmin barely waited for Chaerin to park the car on the side of the road, and sped off. The Canadian also wasted no time and tried to call the ambulance as she descended the slippery ravine. The wet soil made her sneakers sink and made the task of getting to the scene of the accident even more complicated, but the adrenaline that ran through her veins made her able to get through all the obstacles and set the location for rescuers at the same time.

The lack of lighting also made a lot of things difficult. One of Jisung's car headlights was still on, but the pale yellow light was pointing in the wrong direction. Seungmin turned on the flashlight on his phone and didn't have to think about deciding who should try to help first, and even though he had attended several surgeries at the hospital and witnessed things considered traumatic for many people, he swallowed as he looked at Jinah.

The front window was shattered, and the driver's side door was so damaged that just one pull was enough to make it pop out. Seungmin was puzzled that only the passenger-side airbag was deployed, after all, it was a current car model and was supposed to work properly. His attention, however, wasn't on that detail for more than a few seconds, and then his fingers touched Jinah's bloody neck for some pulse. Seungmin closed his eyes.

On the other side, Chaerin had a little more trouble touching Jisung, since the other door was firmly in place and she had no choice but to finish breaking the already cracked glass. Kwon tried to raise the lock, but it didn't move. She eventually gave up on it when she heard Jisung moan in pain and struggled to punch the airbag away and allow Han to breathe better. His forehead was bruised and there was an ugly cut on his left shoulder which was bleeding considerably, but nothing too serious seemed to have happened to him.

Chaerin took off her sweatshirt, wearing only a white shirt, and folded the fabric vertically to stop the bleeding on Jisung's shoulder. The boy, who was, obviously, stunned, tried to dodge the painful pressure, but Kwon didn't pull away.

"Calm down, it's going to be worse if you move," Chaerin said, squandering a calm she didn't even feel inside. It was the first time she had been helping anyone under those conditions, she wasn't used to so much blood. "There's already an ambulance coming, it'll be fine."

"Don't let him sleep, Chae," warned Seungmin, focused on doing what he could for Jinah, even though his resources were scarce. "It appears to have been a concussion, his blood pressure must remain high so that there is no coagulation or lack of chemicals in the plasma."

"I didn't understand anything you said last, but okay."

It was as if Jisung's head could explode. Even though the pain bothered him, the feeling of helplessness and lack of processing in his mind was a thousand times worse. He had no idea how and why Chaerin and Seungmin were there, nor was he aware of the way the oak slanted after the crash. The only thing Jisung really cared about was Jinah and her snow-white blouse was getting more and more dirty with red.

"J-JinJin..." his right hand touched his girlfriend's arm, but she didn't move. The tears were already running free and salty down Han's face. "No, please, no. You c-can't leave me alone."

"She'll be fine, don't worry" Seungmin lied and forced a weak smile. His hands were soaked with blood that wasn't his own, which made the scene somewhat ironic in the eyes of anyone who could see. Anyone but Jisung, who was so bewildered, that he wanted to hold on to any hope, so he believed Kim's words very strongly.

Han's eyes weighed and he closed them for a moment. Half of his conscience wanted to stay active, but the other half was slowly getting lost. Realizing this, Chaerin fussed with his hair, warning him.

"You can't sleep now, Jisung. C'mon, talk to me about anything, just don't sleep."

"My shoulder hurts."

"I know."

"Then stop squeezing it, damn it."

"I can't," lamented Chaerin. "Blood is still coming out."

"Where the hell is this ambulance?" muttered Seungmin, almost sounding pained. Kwon watched Jisung's sleepy state and, before messing with him again, muttered to Kim:

"On a scale from zero to ten... How much?"

Seungmin met her gaze and knew she was referring to Jinah. Sighing softly, he answered using the same minute intonation: "Two. Maybe three."

"Two what?" Jisung wanted to know.

"Two ambulances" Chaerin brightened when she heard the sirens. The red and blue lights began to glow in the distance. There was little left. "Hold on."

Please.

                                          ♡˖°

Jade never thought she could cry watching Toy Story 4.

The purpose of going to the movies was to cheer her up and make her think of nice things that didn't involve her ex-boyfriend — it was so hard to talk like this about Changbin! —, but, when they settled into the soft chairs of the dark room, the american ended up comparing the company of friends to Seo's company and came to the conclusion that eating popcorn without having someone hugging her or stroking her hair was horrible! Not even Chan's affection, Felix's jokes, and the many candies Hyunjin put in her mouth filled Changbin's lack in her life. In short, Jade had red eyes when the credits started to rise. Maybe the snacks they ate at the diner, right after the movie, were the only really good part of the night, but, otherwise, she just wanted her bed and her therapeutic pillow.

"At least you smiled about six times," said Felix, trying to be optimistic. The quartet was standing on the sidewalk of the building where Kang lived. Hyunjin was the driver of the time and still had to take Felix home, but got out of the car anyway to wait for Yoorim, who should have stayed around after Changbin had left. "It's a significant value compared to the rest of the week, right?"

"Right," the corners of Jade's lips merely lifted. After all, she was happy for her friends' attempts. "Thanks for putting up with me."

"You put up with all my existential crises, nothing fairer," said Chan. "And thanks for the ride, Hyunjin."

"I'll charge you next time, just letting you know," Hwang joked, drawing a chuckle from the two boys and one more minimal smile from Jade. His attention was directed to Woojin as he approached the group, alone. Hyunjin, therefore, said, "I thought Yoorim was with you."

"She went home shortly after Jinah left" the elder one shrugged. "Said she had a headache."

"That's weird, she didn't even text me."

"I thought it was kind of weird too, but it's Yoorim. We get it."

The ringing of Jade's phone was the next thing to hear. She fumbled in her pants pockets and picked up the vibrating device. A frown appeared on her forehead as she read the contact's name.

"Why is Chaerin calling me?" she asked rhetorically and answered. "Hello?"

Woojin observed her reactions. From confused, Jade turned unreadable as Chaerin told her something on the other end of the line, then, turned pale as a sheet of paper. Jieun parted her lips and they trembled, her restless eyes starting to water.

"W-where?" she stammered in a small voice and, after a few seconds, muttered a 'thank you' and ended the call.

"What happened?" Chan asked, startled by her mood swings.

"Hospital," Jade gasped, not knowing what to do with her hands, or the words they wanted to run over each other. "Jinah. Jisung. Accident"

"What?!" Hyunjin practically screamed and was driven by the urge to run back to the silver pickup truck. Woojin forced himself not to be robbed by the trance state that came with the news shock and was the first to accompany him, followed by Felix. Chan had to pull Jade into the remaining seats, and then the tires sang down the street, marking only the most turbulent night of their lives.

                                                  ♡˖°

It was as if Chan was anesthetized.

Most people's biggest mistake is thinking that similar tragedies happen only to others, never to themselves or anyone close to them. When proven otherwise, ecstasy comes in much greater and devastating proportions. It's as if the floor is opening and an infinite void is ready to swallow the rubble, and as much as you blink your eyes and want to wake up, it's not a nightmare. It is real, solid as a stone.

Chan began to shiver when he saw Chaerin and Seungmin at the hospital reception. They paced, restlessly, and if until then he was having trouble believing what had happened, he had only to look through the couple's bloody clothes to have his last proof. Without even asking anything, Chan cried. It was stronger than him, much stronger.

"How are they?" Hyunjin asked, his voice screaming urgency. Jinah had become someone very special in his life, but, above her, came Jisung, his childhood friend, his confidant, his mate, his little brother. Hyunjin didn't want to lose him. He didn't want to lose them both.

"We haven't had any news yet," Chaerin replied.

"But you two were with them before help came! You're a doctor, Seungmin! Of course you know!"

"Jisung will be fine," the younger Kim said slowly, contrasting with Hwang's obvious agony. It was no cold matter, Seungmin was simply being trained to remain calm at times when the collective will consisted of throwing everything into the air.

"And Jinah?" Jade asked.

"As Chaerin said, we haven't had any news yet. She's having surgery now, but..."

"But?" in the face of others hesitation, Woojin encouraged.

"... But I'm so sorry."

a/n: you guys can interpret this last sentence as you wish hehe i'm laughing but i'll just leave it to you guys to create your own theories

i’ll be back soon, byebye <3

[crusherthedoctor]

Sonic Villains: Sweet or Shite? - Part 12: THE HARD-BOILED HEAVIES

There are some villains I like. And there are some villains I don’t like. But why do I feel about them the way I do? That’s where this comes in.

This is a mini-series of mine, in which I’ll be going into slightly more detail about my thoughts on the villains in the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise, and why I think they either work well, or fall flat (or somewhere in-between). I’ll be giving my stance on their designs, their personalities, and what they had to show for themselves in the game(s) they featured in. Keep in mind that these are just my own personal thoughts. Whether you agree or disagree, feel free to share your own thoughts and opinions! I don’t bite. :>

Anyhow, for today’s installment, we’ll be covering the rotund oppression squad of Sonic Mania, and celebrated improv artists among the Badnik community: the Hard-Boiled Heavies.

The Gist: Sonic the Hedgehog and Miles "Tails" Prower were heading to Angel Island in pursuit of a mysterious new jewel that their nemesis, Dr. Eggman, was on the hunt for. Unfortunately for them, a squad of Egg Robos had already beaten them to the punch, because literally everyone in the Sonic universe is faster than Sonic. Upon being unearthed, the jewel in question - the Phantom Ruby - wasted no time in working its magic, and with its unexplained distortion efforts, it sent Sonic and Tails (and Knuckles) to Green Hill.

Also, it gave the Egg Robos more than a few nifty accessories.

The king was on his own with finding the tip of his scepter though.

Thus began a new adventure that proved to the non-believers that this franchise can in fact work beautifully when the characters have gameplay mechanics in common with each other and aren't going around picking up guns and turning into werehogs. Sonic was on a mission to get to the bottom of the Phantom Ruby shenanigans, but his upgraded opposition, dubbed the Hard-Boiled Heavies, did whatever they could to stop the hedgehog's pulse, which largely involved making use of old Badniks in refreshing and exciting new ways... much like themselves.

This is a more compelling take on Arthurian legend than the entirety of Black Knight.

All the while, Eggman carried on using the Phantom Ruby to his heart's content to make things even more difficult for our heroes, like teleporting them away as often as a Kirby final boss, and giving Metal Sonic a brand new Final Smash. Eggman planned to use the Titanic Monarch, a giant robot that made the monsters in Shadow of the Colossus look vertically challenged by comparison, to achieve his lifelong dream of taking over the world. Complications arose however, when the leader of the Heavies decided he wanted the Phantom Ruby for himself. Sadly for him, this was not an Adventure Era title, meaning Eggman actually fought back, and on equal terms at that. Sonic, with his super form, was forced to take on Eggman and the King at the same time.

In a stunning revelation, Sonic defeated them both. But not before the Phantom Ruby itself teleported the hedgehog away one last time, to a different time completely, where he would experience a different journey altogether... Then he came back, did the whole thing all over again, and now he's cracking a cold one with the boys (and King, for some reason).

Fucking 4Kids censors at it again.

The Designs: The Heavies are still Egg Robos at their core, so they share the same general body structure. Don't assume that makes them indistinguishable however, for they've been given a lot of bells and whistles that play to each of their thematic motifs, right up to their weapons of choice.

Heavy Gunner is a robo-bobby:

"You're nicked, hedgehog... But before you're sent to the chair, are there any pencils you'd like me to sharpen for you?"

Heavy Shinobi is a stealthy ninja, despite being neon green:

He speaks entirely in fortune cookies.

Heavy Magician is always dressed to impress:

These guys certainly do make me feel like magic.

Heavy Rider is a rough n' tough knight of the round table... if that table was Eggman's:

She dances when'ere she's able.

And the top dog, Heavy King, is suitably imposing without trying too hard and looking accidentally hilarious in the process, unlike certain other villains in this very series:

Why did he watermark his chest hair?

His Majesty also gained a second form during his final battle, which sacrificed his legs for size, power, and high quality Tee Lopes rips.

And a chimney for his head.

These designs already go far to give the Heavies their own sense of individual character. As you'll soon notice however, that's only half of it...

The Personalities: You can laugh all you want, but these Egg Robos in a game with no dialogue whatsoever managed to show vastly more personality than many of the villains in this franchise WITH dialogue. Look at this shit right here, and tell me they don't immediately ooze charm like it's nothing.

Pictured: Love at first sight.

And this extends to your confrontations with each of them. Gunner is crafty, and willing to sacrifice his own men to cover his ass, but the panicked look on his face when things go south for him is very relatable.

"Wait... I'm in a Sonic game...? ...For Sonic fans...? ...Oh god..."

Meanwhile, Shinobi puts up a cool and suave front, and never hesitates to go in for the kill, but he's not above playing around for the sake of his own cockiness.

Magician is a bubbly showoff, always popping up to mess with the heroes at a moment's notice. But she's also rather affable, and well-mannered to her mortal enemies.

Almost makes up for the Strangelove hands.

And Rider is perpetually in the midst of a cocaine rush, as her thirst for thrill and fun never sleeps. Yet she appears to have great affection for her pet Motobug, Jimmy.

Finally, King is a no-nonsense frowny face with a Sean Connery accent who is sick of his fellow Heavies' shit, who can nonetheless back himself up as the group's undisputed leader.

They may be fairly straightforward, but through the subtleties of their animations, there's a lot of life put into these guys, and their characters don't start and finish with their default trait like so many before them. You don't need to be Shakespeare in a Sonic game. You just need to be memorable and entertaining while fulfilling your role. And the Heavies do that with considerable ease.

The Execution: This might come as a surprise to you, but I love the shit out of the Heavies.

How can you hate this???

You have to understand that an overwhelming number of villains in this franchise not named Eggman have not only ranged from mediocre to terrible, they've also had a tendency of feeling the same as each other. When it's not a giant monster with little backstory of genuine interest, it's a guy dressed in all black who does evil for evil's sake. And that's without adding the recolours and their penchant for gaining disproportionate fandoms simply for being recolours.

Why is it, then, that a group who are all based on the same robot succeed where those villains fail?

Well, I'd argue there's a few elements at work there. The obvious one is that they're simply better implemented, and they leave an impression through their boss encounters and animations rather than whether or not they played tonsil hockey with Shadow or Amy in a fanfic. Another factor is that unlike other villains, they were never hyped up to be the Raddest, Baddest, Greatest Enemy of All Time for Sonic, and thus they didn't run the risk of not being able to live up to that claim. They were allowed to simply exist and do their own thing, as one addition to help compliment an overall package.

You could also argue that their status as a group works in their favor too, as it helps to make each of their traits pop out that little bit more. And they're honestly really clever with their strategies, like how Magician transforms into forgotten characters to spice things up, or how Shinobi's shurikens aren't actually shurikens, but rather Asterons, one of the most notorious enemies in the series. And need I mention Rider using a goddamn Motobug like it's a steed? These characters could have been very throwaway, but there's a surprising level of thought put into how each of them work, and giving them a characteristic spin that works to Sonic's tastes, and considering this is the same franchise that gave us a bad guy named Black Doom, I'd say it's worth noting.

"...Please explain why Boobie Bots Weekly is in my search history."

So yes, in this world where Dooms and Mephiles's's's's's's have been running rampant, the Hard-Boiled Heavies share their creator's honor of making a name for themselves. And as much as I have a fondness for the Deadly Six in spite of their issues (Zazz and Zor are still hilarious, fight me), I will agree without argument that the Heavies are a much better execution of the quirky boss group format on the overall side of things. And I swear to GodJesus and the Bear, if they never make a single appearance past their debut, I will be a very sad panda. If they can give Silver and his tiresome schtick countless second chances (and failing to make it interesting every single time), they can sure as hell give these juggernauts another go.

But until then, at least we still have Mania. Now if you'll excuse me, Shinobi's about to teleport behind me. Hope it's nothing personal.

Crusher Gives the Hard-Boiled Heavies a: Thumbs Up!

[nicolepremier]

Nano’s Knife

I’m currently writing a Nano/Akira fic and it occurs to me that I need to explain to everyone what’s really going on with Nano’s knife and its mysterious inscription that appears on so much iconic TnC merch. I was planning to write a brief summary in the author’s notes, but I wanted to go into a little more detail here, since I thought some of you might be curious.

Fandom lore would simply state that Nano’s inscription reads “wish” in some mysterious language, a symbol that he “wishes” to meet Akira again, and leave it at that.

It’s a lot more complex than that. And spoiler alert - the inscription on that knife does not literally read “wish” in any language.

For starters, there is some confusion in the translation from Japanese to English. The word the Japanese use that is translated to English as “wish” is 願い (negai), and that word has another meaning, a meaning that contextually makes a lot more sense. “Negai” also means “prayer,” and the context that it is used in throughout Nano’s route suggests that “prayer” would have been a more accurate and appropriate translation. For example, when Akira finds Nano sitting alone in the church with the black kitten, Nano says that he is there because he is “wishing” for another person’s happiness (obviously Akira’s, though that goes completely over Akira’s head) because it’s the only thing left to one whose fate has already been determined (referring to himself). What he’s actually doing is praying for Akira’s happiness. You don’t go to church to “wish,” you go to “pray.”

This distinction becomes very important when translating Nano’s knife inscription.

The inscription on Nano’s knife is written in Elder Futhark, a pre-viking Norse and Germanic rune system. (Though popular perception today simply refers to them as “viking runes.”) Being of Scandinavian decent from a family who loves anything and everything to do with vikings, I recognized the writing immediately since the same runes are on a ton of decorations all over my family’s home.

If you try and translate Nano’s runes phonetically, you get “hingath,” which is complete rubbish and means absolutely nothing as far as I can tell. It most certainly does NOT mean “wish.”

There is some additional complication due to the fact that N+C is horribly inconsistent with the runes from one set of merch to the next (presumably because they mean nothing to the designers), and the designers sometimes write them in ways that make the inscription even MORE nonsensical.

I actually sent a number of the different versions of the inscriptions to a professor friend who studies runes in several dead languages, and he came up with exactly the same nonsensical gibberish I did - it’s badly written Elder Futhark mixing several time periods that says nothing. He said it wasn’t all that uncommon for people to write nonsense runes on all sorts of stuff just because they like the look of them. For example, a well-known rune translation guide book has runes going around the cover which translate to “These runes don’t say anything, but they sure look cool, don’t they?”

But I wasn’t satisfied.

Elder Futhark is not purely a phonetic language like the Latin alphabet. The god Odin “sacrificed himself to himself” by hanging on the world-tree Yggdrasil for nine days and nights, receiving no form of nourishment from his companions. At the end of this ordeal, he perceived the runes, the magically-charged ancient Germanic alphabet that was held to contain many of the greatest secrets of existence.

The fact that the runes have, since their conception, been thought to be imbibed with magical powers is the reason they have been so extensively used by modern Neopagans in so much of their ritual practice. Simply the act of inscribing the runes, or keeping inscribed objects close, can confer power and blessings. Each rune has multiple meanings, but keeping that in mind, I believe I have cracked the code of Nano’s mysterious knife inscription.

The knife isn’t a “wish” or a symbol of a “wish” - it’s a “prayer.” It’s a prayer to the old gods.

Name: Hagalaz, “hail.” Phoneme: H. Meaning: destruction, chaos, change, invocation

This is a common invocation to begin a prayer to petition the gods.

Name: Ingwaz, “the god Ingwaz.” Phoneme: Ing or ng. Meaning: male fertility, the beginning of something, the actualization of potential via sacrifice

He must offer a sacrifice. The old gods don’t work for free. One must give something up in order for one’s prayer to have a chance of being answered.

Name: Ansuz, “an Aesir god.” Phoneme: A (long and/or short). Meaning: prosperity, vitality.

He’s calling on one or more of the aesir gods for help - Odin, Thor, Frigg, Tyr, Loki, Baldur, Heimdall, Idun, and Bragi.

Name: Thurisaz, “Thor, Giant.” Phoneme: Th (both soft and hard). Meaning: danger, suffering, solitude. (Note that this rune is often written with shorter vertical lines so that it looks more like an angular D. Both versions appear on different TnC merch.)

He wants an end to his suffering and solitude. His prayer is a desperate cry for help.

To be clear, I do not believe that Nano is a time traveling viking, or even of Norse decent - if he were, he might have written a more sensible inscription that actually meant something in one of the Scandinavian languages - all of which use the roman alphabet nowadays, and that is NOT the alphabet that Nano’s book uses, since Japanese use romanji as well and Akira has never seen those sorts of letters before. No one writes books in Elder Futhark these days. Here is what I believe happened:

Nano was the son of academics. He mentions in Kou Un (his official afterstory) that his father whose face he can’t remember made the knife. That’s not a normal skill, and even a rudimentary knowledge of Norse runes (and Norse gods) isn’t common knowledge among the general populace. This is consistent with how Nano dresses and presents himself - he isn’t the sort of person who puts a lot of thought into his clothing, but he likely tends to subconsciously gravitate towards what some part of his brain still registers as “normal” - things his father might have worn, and which he probably wore himself as a child before he was taken to ENED. His primary hobby is reading, and his eloquent speech and precise pattern observation makes clear that he’s quite intelligent, despite his naivety and eccentricity.

I headcanon that Nano’s father was an engineer, and his mother was a history professor (probably NOT in Norse studies), both of whom worked for a Russian university with government funding in South eastern Russia, in close proximity to both China and Japan. His father may have been involved in the design or manufacturing of weapons during WWIII. Likely both parents had an interest in historical reenactment and were eager to involve their children. Nano likely spent a good deal of time with his mother as a child since his father would have been kept extremely busy during the war. He was almost certainly taught to read at a very young age and given books on his mother’s favorite subjects to keep him occupied while she worked. When he developed an interest in vikings and Norse mythology as a young boy, he was almost certainly encouraged to pursue it. Therefore, although he was raised Russian Orthodox Christian, he was aware of (and likely fascinated by) mythology from various cultures. His speech in the game illustrates that he does indeed have a distinct interest in Christian mythology in particular, and likely that of other cultures as well, given that his only known possession was a knife inscribed with Elder Futhark. His father likely recognized his interests and made the knife for him as a gift, then let him help inscribe it with a prayer. To a little kid who really liked vikings, that was probably very exciting, so it isn’t surprising that the knife would become his most prized possession, even after his memories were altered and he could no longer remember anything else about his family.

After Nano’s family was killed, he was put into an overcrowded Russian orphanage, then later taken away by the Japanese for use as a nameless test subject in what was often lethal experimentation. At that point he was so scared that he was willing to try just about anything. Having no control at all over his own fate, his only recourse was to pray for salvation. When no one answered his prayers and his circumstances kept going from bad to worse, he almost certainly started to lose faith in the Christian god, and tried to invoke the old Norse gods in hopes that maybe he was just praying to the wrong god and there was still SOMEONE out there who would listen. He may even have forgotten what the inscription on the knife actually meant, only recalling dreamlike bits and pieces. It was a prayer. To be completely honest, I find it completely unrealistic that Nano could have kept that knife hidden for so long from ENED, given that it’s fairly large, he had no privacy, was watched 24/7, and only wore a medical gown inside the facility. I think it is slightly more likely that he was allowed to keep it, given how submissive he was to the researchers, since the end goal was to brainwash him into BECOMING a weapon himself.

In the end, when Nano had lost all hope and knew he was about to lose even himself… the sacrifice he made to invoke his final desperate prayer WAS the knife itself, his last remaining possession, the last reminder he had of his humanity, and with it his last remaining hope of salvation. He gave it all to Akira, in hopes that maybe one day, they would meet again.

Now, Nano’s fate, and his salvation, depends entirely on Akira.

[cyb-by-lang]

Shell Game (4/?)

Kei has her first day of classes, which goes as expected until it doesn’t.

True to form, Kei sat through four classes with a completely blank expression before lunch. Modern Hero Art History was going to be a complete nightmare, while Mathematics and English were...at least translatable, kind of. She knew how English worked, and she at least knew numbers didn’t tend to shift much between cultures. But it’d been a very long time since she’d done literary analysis on anything more complicated than ROOT reports pulled from the depths of Shimura clan holdings.

It was pretty miserable.

Also, it turned out that being the only kid in General Studies who’d gotten in on the power of smashing giant robots made Kei something of a standout. Kayama-sensei had told her, while probably trying not to laugh, that Kei’s education up to this point had clearly been about as well-rounded as a cactus. This, of course, meant that Kei had an appointment with the guidance/career counselor next week.

While Kei resented the drain on her time, Kayama-sensei wasn’t exactly wrong. The academic problems she faced were quite real, but shinobi training from age five meant Kei laughed off physical challenges.

Case in point: PE.

See, physical education consisted of pretty modest exercises by Kei’s standards. More or less. Push-ups, pull-ups, and “consecutive side-hops” made appearances, as did the fifty-meter dash and long jump, grip strength, and so on. And even in cases where people had variously-useful Quirks to assist them, ranging from Extendable Nails (not terribly impressive) to Tooth Shedding (what the fuck) to Prehensile Hair (better), Kei neatly outperformed them in at least three categories.

It hadn’t exactly made her any friends. Especially since, due to her brief absence on the day of the opening ceremony, some of the students were convinced she was new record holder for “shortest time between enrollment and disciplinary issues” in the school’s history. Kei had done nothing to dispel this idea, because zoning out during study periods to chat with Isobu was more likely to keep her awake than listening. Even if it did mean Kayama-sensei waved her whip threateningly.

It probably wasn’t a great strategy to avoid her fellow 1-C students, but the principal’s orders had been clear regarding the Heroics kids. Kei mostly observed from the far end of the cafeteria, noting Explosion Kid and Engine-Legs as well as others with physical Quirks and less inclination to randomly explode something. Getting Obito to meet these kids could be a pain in the ass unless she could grab them after school.

That’d probably be kidnapping. Not the best plan, especially if the Heroics kids were gonna do battle trials all afternoon.

She’d have to talk to Obito and see who she could run into.

And then it was back to class.

Three in a row. I win.

Kei mentally crossed out the board. How about Connect Four?

Verticality will not make it any easier for you to beat me.

The argument in Kei’s head went on for a while, blotting out Modern Literature, before a student stuck their head in the classroom door . “Um, is Gekkō Keisuke in this class?”

Kei felt the every student’s eyes on her when she raised her hand.

“Again?” Cementoss’s brick-flat face turned to her, then said, “Go ahead, Gekkō-san.”

The principal would have to make sure Kei got some kind of official excuse for this shit. Even if she ended up with a disciplinary record that looked like a villain in the making, there had to be something to justify all the absences. Though, on their own, the repeated absences could at least justify Kei’s terrible grades.

It turned out that the principal wasn’t alone in the staff room this time.

“Gekkō-kun, this is Aizawa-sensei from the Heroics course,” was what the principal said.

Kei saw a yellow sleeping bag on the couch, piled high with empty juice pouches. It twitched occasionally, and Nezu was sitting on it.

Isobu considered the situation, then said, Of course we are expected to work with a walking eccentricity. Sleeping bags, really.

I suddenly feel so well put-together, Kei sighed inwardly. Despite wearing her shirt untucked and tie just badly. It wouldn’t have been outside the scope of some high schools to write her up for that alone.

Kei still trooped across the room and sat in the lonely little folding chair, hands on her lap and back straight. Pretending not to notice the situation, she said, “Nice to meet you, Aizawa-sensei.”

“The feeling is not mutual.” The figure in the yellow sleeping bag sat up, revealing exactly the same scruffy man from the day before. Or at least his face, because apparently he couldn’t be assed to actually employ the zipper. “You’re the General Studies problem child.”

Kei nodded, though it hardly seemed to matter.

“Gekkō-kun is legitimately a student,” Nezu said, “but I thought it would be best if she explained her purpose here. If you would, Gekkō-kun?”

“I was ordered to enroll in UA as a part of an undercover operation,” Kei rattled off without letting her expression change. “While attending classes in General Studies, I am required to act as a security operative for the safety of the students currently attending UA, at least until the end of the academic year.”

Aizawa-sensei clearly had several thoughts on that front, though Kei could only tell by watching his face for the most minute tics. He, like some ANBU she’d known, had a poker face to end all poker faces. Or maybe he was just so sleep-deprived he didn’t give a shit.

Probably both.

“It’s a good thing you’re in General Studies,” Aizawa-sensei said, eying her every bit as warily as Kei was him. “Or else I would have already expelled you.”

Nezu laughed. “You have to admit you have no aptitude for hero work, Gekkō-kun.”

Kei shrugged. “I didn’t apply to Heroics. I know my limitations.”

“So, is your Quirk also a fabrication?” Like your life, Aizawa-sensei didn’t say. Kei could still hear it loud and clear.

“My registered Quirk comprises about…one-sixth of my actual abilities.” Kei had no real intention of getting into the details of that, and as a shinobi was legally obligated to keep ninjutsu a secret where possibly. As a student in a high school, full disclosure was more acceptable.

Kei didn’t care.

And neither do I.

Still, there was something she could do here. Reaching into her uniform pocket, she withdrew a slip of paper and set it carefully on the table. Written on it was, among other things, Obito’s name in kanji he barely ever used, “Kamui,” and a mess of other directive information before Kei’s handwriting devolved into nothing but especially dangerous fūinjutsu scribbling.

“If you carry one of these and tear it in half, it acts as a beacon for an agent with a warp Quirk.” Kei sat back as Nezu retrieved the seal for Aizawa-sensei. “He knows where I am, and he can come get me if trouble happens.”

“It would be best if your friend came here first,” Principal Nezu said as the paper disappeared into the folds of sleeping bag. “Then we can make the necessary excuses to have you careening across campus into danger.”

Kei didn’t let her face shift. “I’ll explain it to him tonight. Hopefully nothing will happen before the system is in place.”

And, in hindsight, saying that might’ve jinxed them.