#Metal Gear is a wild ride

[ectologia]

♱ ˖ ࣪࿐ 𝒯𝐻𝐼𝒩𝒦𝐼𝒩𝒢 𝒜𝐵𝒪𝒰𝒯 . . .

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 ؛ asphyxiation ﾉ breeding ﾉ doggy style ﾉ riding ﾉ full nelson ﾉ dick piercings ﾉ profanity

𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 . . .

Dabi’s favourite positions.

He enjoys a classic doggy. He loves how his scolding hot hands, ribbed and marred from years of misuse, mould into the pudgy flesh cushioning your hips and tummy. Squeezing the life out of you with clawed crooked fingers stabbing into your stomach while he stuffs his lengthy shaft all the way up to the stiff peak of your cervix, kissing the tiny opening with the dangerously armed tip of his pierced cock, threatening to splurge the entrance of your womb with wet, sticky seed. It makes him feel like a dog, a ferocious hound, a wild beast. Surviving to live and living to survive. Rutting with warm pants and throaty howls, grunting into the soft hairs that line your nape as he hunches over the extension of your spine, anticipating the moment he finally gets to fill your bitch pussy up with his puppies.

On the other hand, he’s also an avid enjoyer of having you hump him. He’ll pick you up by your shoulders, interlocking each of his lithe fingers around your limbs as he poises you atop his painfully erect dick, sitting your ass down on his hips as they bump up into your soft squishy bits, commanding you to ride him like his own little cowgirl. You complain that you’re tired after the first minute or so, it’s a constant but he just doesn’t seem to care. He’ll swat the meat of your plump butt with a flick of his wrist, telling you to “giddyup” and ride him properly, hissing through grit teeth to “bounce up and down on his fat-ass horse cock.” With splayed palms, his hands rest limply at your haunches, stroking the prickled fuzz of hair growing along your calves and below your thighs as you claw and clutch at the layer of fat chubbing his otherwise lean abs, nails scrunching and sprouting along the fleshy ripples every time he bucks up into you with a sly grin. Sneering at your startled yelps and pitiful whimpers.

But what really gets Dabi going, what really tickles his fancy. Is when you let him fold you like a deck chair. His drug of choice would have to be a nice, stuffy full nelson. One where you let him crumple you up like a tin can in his fist, one where he has your legs sticking out every which way, twitching and shivering and shuddering like a spider beneath his boot. He thinks you look so sweet like that, when he has your arms smushed between your tits, and your thighs locked on his elbows, no where to run and definitely no where to hide. He’ll do you in front of the mirror, all so he can see that cute violet hue overcome your features whence he’s blocked your air ways for a second or five too many. Biceps shaking, evidence of his lassitude after purposely trying to choke you out with his manhood fucked half-way inside that puffy little cunny he loves to hurt so much. He’ll chew his lip as you gasp and splutter, barely attempting to stifle the ashen chuckle that threatens to erupt as flecks of spittle fly onto his hairy thighs. Cooing at you, he’ll rub lines into your buzzing clit, nuzzling and huffing into your ear while he taps and faps away at the hard lovebud, refusing to move when you panic, flailing and screeching as the stimulation becomes too overbearing. Only then will he relent, recollecting your flapping arms and legs to spear you from the bottom, lowering you up and down his smouldering hot length, spiked with hooks and other metal weaponry a-geared to tear your delicate pussy open from the inside out.

[st-hedge]

Genuinely Metal Gear is a wacky kojima story in a military trenchcoat

The military part is only important insofar as it serves the purpose of demonstrating that the military industrial complex is stupid and cruel and the heroes exist to help stop it before hell breaks loose and world was 3 starts.

It is simultaneously very elegantly emotionally subtle and also the least politically subtle thing on the planet.

It's a ride and a half, there's so much gay shit. Fans aren't kidding, it's practically text.

I recommend mgs2: sons of liberty. It was my first one and a wild plonk into the world and also Raiden is there. There is a literal real vampire in it named Vamp and the characters barely bat an eye. It's STUPID stupid and very good, 10/10

*highlighting ‘least politically subtle’, ‘gay shit’, and ‘STUPID stupid’* okay okay sell it no more, I’m contractually obliged to play this stupid gay military shit I guess

[yveltalreal]

hey youve talked about cyclizar racing a bit? how does it work?

okay so! theres like two major types!!!!!!!!!

the first types are speed races! all the races you see on tv or that are set up on legal courses and race centres and just that are held in general are of this type! a speed race tends to be a straight dash for the finish. quick sprints, or like a couple laps on a basic circuit. sometimes there are a few simple obstacles like some twisting turns or a few small jumps or a little bit of slippery terrain or a small wall to climb. nothing too intensive and even then obstacles are still kinda rare to see outside of higher level racing. this is the worst type of race because its boring and it sucks this is the only legal type (thankfully this will change hopefully)

the other type are technical races (sometimes called danger races or skill races depends on the group) these are the most popular type for illegal races. theyre characterized by unconventional courses that take paths through places like city streets, caves, and forests, weaving through a variety of natural and man made obstacles, many of which are dangerous and require a degree of skill and practice to go through safely. while speed race courses are rarely open during storms, many technical races are planned around harsh weather, with staying low and using as little metal gear as possible while avoiding getting swept away by pouring rain being part of the challenge. because of this, most illegal racers have a fast flying pokemon known as a scout pokemon that keeps an eye on the track. speaking of which, technical race tracks arent always as well defined as speed race tracks. shorter races will have a whole planned route, while larger ones may span entire neighbourhoods or more and instead just have a set of checkpoints that must be reached in a specific order before getting to the end. there are a few other variants of technical races i can talk about but overall theyre just a more fun and dangerous race type and im surprised but excited that the cyclizar racing federation has decided to potentially make official rules for them and open official tracks. obstacle based racing is super fun compared to just. trying to reach the end quickly and requires you to move your body with ur cyclie so much more and its sosososo fun.

also i guess i should talk about racing gear. speed races will always use racing gear. its standard cyclizar handlebars and seats just setup more for racing and being a bit more aerodynamic. technical racing on the other hand has no rules. race with whatever you got. most racers will use complete custom gear, modified rapidash tack (so a bridle, reins, saddle, maybe a blanket. i use this) or just standard racing gear. you technically also ride bareback for technical races since theres not as much rules but bareback cyclie riding has always been for more lax rides and you will fall off lol.

registering for speed races requires extensive history of your cyclizar. it must be a pure cyclizar so no hybrids. dna testing resules are required if they dont say its a pure cyclizar then it wont get in (so a cyclizar/rapidash hybrid wouldnt be allowed to race. if one somehow caught one of those crater fuckers it wouldnt be allowed either). lower level races and casual shit do occasionally allow hybrids IF AND ONLY IF it is proven that the hybridization gives no real benefit in a race. i think school races might also allow hybrids under the same rules?? idk. anyways. mid level and high level races require it to be a pure cyclizar (sometimes with racing breed pedigree) and often ban wild caught cyclizar from competition. after that theres also the standard health checkups one would have just for a riding license that make sure its a healthy size and has enough strength to be ridden, as well as the actual riding license that says you can ride the cyclizar around like. in public and stuff.

tecynical racing requires none of that just have a cyclizar and i guess make sure its healthy. you dont ened a riding license but you should have one so ur less likely to get arrested and also cause just. that confirmation that you and your cyclizar are able to ride.

also to clarify by technical racing illegality its like. there are harsh cyclizar riding trails that are just as dangeorus as technical racing but theyre legal cause ur supposed to go one at a time. if multiple people are racing at once it gets a lot more dangerous cause both people and pokemon can get seriously hurt. its not anything serious of a charge its more a misdemeanour you're probably just gonna get written up and end up with a fine unless youre a repeat offender

[plutos-little-space]

May I request caregiver Boothill headcanons??? I absolutely love Boothill and the mood boards you made for are so adorable!!! 💞💞

Yeah!!! Ofc!!

Cg!Boothill Hcs!!! :D

⚙️ super good cg, he had experience either his own daughter

🦾 piggy back rides all the time, he loves to carry you

⚙️ he’ll put his cowboy hat on your head, and carry you on his shoulders and run around playing wild west

🦾 he may not be the softest but he can control the heat of his metal body so you’ll always be comfy

⚙️ cover your face in kisses, and ruffles your hair

🦾 the best dad hugs ever

⚙️ lots of nicknames; darling, sweetheart, baby, sugar cube, cutie, little; star, bird, one etc..

🦾 he’s ok with any name; dada, dad, papa, daddy, baba, anything really

⚙️ doesn’t show it much, cus he doesn’t want you to be upset, but he worries a lot about you and is very protective of you

🦾 he’s great with literally any age but especially with very little, like 1-3

⚙️ always tucks you in at night, nice and snug, and of course, amazing bedtime stories

🦾 he may not need to eat, exactly normal, food anymore but he’s a darn good cook, especially breakfast!

⚙️ he snores because that’s what dads do

🦾 gets you any gear you need or want, not necessarily legally but where’s the fun in that >:)

⚙️ i think he’s actually really good at making things as well as repairing, so he’ll make you stuffed animals and little outfits accessories, especially stuff you can keep with you when he’s not there

🦾 speaking of which, he is away a decent amount, work and all, but he takes you with him every chance he can (as long as it’s safe ofc) if not either Argenti or the Astral Express are happy to help

⚙️ he always comes back with stories and little trinkets for you!!

he is so dada i love him sm, wanna cuddle him!!! my papa!!

(Hope you enjoy!!! sorry for the wait!)

DNI BANNERミ★( @tinyowlet )

[grievingwidowsmith]

hello! sorry to interrupt you.

read all your ocelhira fanfiction.

i'm thrilled, ma'am. my pain of reading it with a translator is just worth it. catharsis is real. please, let me tamp my thoughts down.

where and when can I get more? do you plan on writing more about metal gear and/or ocelhira? can you recommend me more authors? asking for a friend.

sorry if i did some mistakes, english is not my native language

thank you!

don’t know how tumblr works, I’m just a copycat

— MEOW 🥫

ANON I am thrilled to answer

... I have so many ocelhira WIPs it's embarrassing, two of which are finished in fact. I've simply been lazy getting them out. I promise I'll get some ocelhira fluff out this week.

I'm happy to recommend some amazing works from others too, there are some authors in this fandom that cook so fucking good it's unbelievable. We are truly lucky.

The Enemy of My Enemy by arienai This fucking fic is not just the ocelhira fic for me, it's the fic. If there's someone in the fandom who hasn't read this yet - what are you waiting for?

Mile High Club by Hideaki This one is SO GODDAMN HOT. And funny. And cute. Also there was this amazing art by sinkurteeth just last week, jesus FUCK.

Point of Entry by heavymetalqueen Listen, I get that sounding may not be everyone's cup of tea, but I'd take a look even if it isn't yours. This fic is super sweet. Anything by this author is worth reading, and they have a ton of ocelhira.

Vibrissae by Not_You Ocelot is a demon/cat/yokai/thing. What more do you need to know?

Diners and Drive-Ins and Diamonds by goodnightfern Another author that has many certified ocelhira bangers. In this one, Guy Fieri visits Miller's Maxi Buns.

Mr. Deere's Wild Ride by goodnightfern & SkazuhiraMiller Just click it, you won't be dissappointed.

Series: The World to Come by RoseOfTheDune This is exactly how I like my stupid ocelhiras, inconveniently falling in love. The fourth part is INTENSE, I was screaming for the entire time.

Business As Usual by Dabchick A DD soldier observes Oce and Kaz and is surprised by what he sees.

two strangers, we might have never met by springs_charioteer This recent fic feels like core ocelhira to me. Not much happens, but the atmosphere is so on point, I adore.

There are many many great ocelhira fics that are not mentioned here, honestly I'd recommed just working your way through the entire tag since there's less than 400 works.

Thank you anon for this great ask <3

[mothgodofchaos]

Pumpkin

If you really thought I was only gonna write my boy for his birthday, you are sadly mistaken. Continued from his birthday one.

Eldritch!Antisepticeye x GN!Reader, TW: none Words: 1113

You brought him home, and there was a bit before he managed to settle down. You did manage to distract him with one of those self-moving alarm clocks, which he has tried to hunt all over your house. Normally you’d be a little more concerned if you heard growling and thundering footsteps from the other side of the house, but you have to figure out how to make him a little less stupid before letting him do more normal things. Online forums suggest treating feral demons like large predators in zoos, filling pumpkins and melons with meat for enrichment. 

“Alright buddy, I’m gonna go to the store real quick. No eating my electronics.”

Anti stops mid-bite, gnawing at the alarm clock. He drops it, running over to you and hugging you close. Alright, a little clingy, but you can work with that. You take a second to look up any stores that may be open this late with pumpkins for sale, and see that there’s a Walmart nearby. You’ll be able to restock on batteries, and you’re sure that they have meat as well for the inside of the pumpkin.

“C’mere bud, alright. Wanna go for a ride? Go get more batteries?”

“Yes!!”

With his arms still wrapped around you, he glitches the two of you into your truck, smiling big at you. 

“Anti, I need my keys.”

“Oh…”

You can visibly see the gears turning in his head, his wings twitching as he tries to problem solve. Unfortunately the car is locked, and off, so you can’t exactly get out to go get them. Before you can stop him, he shoves his finger into the keyhole like a child with keys and a power outlet. The car sparks to life, lights turning on and engine rumbling.

“...let’s not do that again, but thank you. I’m gonna go get my keys. Why don’t you turn on the radio?”

“Mmmmm…”

You leave before he can cling onto you again, grabbing your keys and wallet. When you hop back into your car, his hand is on the radio knob and his eyes are completely static. You gently turn it to a proper station, and the static clears from his sclera, and he blinks himself back into reality.

“Woah.”

“You like this music? Or do you want something else?”

It’s just some generic metal, but he seems to enjoy it. His claws tap against your dashboard, kicking his feet. Much enrichment for your demon already. The trip to Walmart doesn’t take very long, but you realize that making sure he doesn’t run off in the store may be a bit of a problem.

“Anti, c’mere.”

He’s looking at the pumpkins in the outside display when you summon him over, confused at you holding his hand, interlocking your fingers. 

“Gotta stay close, not everyone likes demons like you. But if you’re good, I’ll let you pick out the batteries you want.”

“Ohh! Yes please!”

“Pick out which pumpkin you want, then we’ll get the other things.”

He pulls you around as he inspects the pumpkins, picking a particularly round one. You let go of his hand just long enough to put it into a cart with one for yourself, moving his hand to grip the cart handle while you push.

“If you see anything else you want, just let me know. Okay?”

“Okie.”

Anti looks around with wild fascination, amazed by the sight that is Walmart. His eyes begin to cross looking up at the fluorescent lights, shaking his head to get them back into place. You get the two of you over to the meat section, grabbing a large cut of meat to be cut smaller by the butcher. You’ll probably be able to circle back for it once you grab the batteries and other things. Anti is fascinated by a block of cheese, holding it like a granola bar.

“You want the cheese?”

“Ye.” “Put it in the cart, we gotta go get your batteries.”

“YAY!!”

You quickly grab his hand before he glitches all over or flies around the store and spooks the sleep deprived college students working right now. He sticks right to your side, but is easily distracted by the many shiny things. As soon as you get to the battery aisle, he’s bouncing on his toes and looking at all the options. After a bit of thinking, he just grabs a variety of them and dumps them into the cart, looking up at you for approval.

“T’is alright?”

“Perfectly fine. Let’s go get that meat and we’ll check out.”

“Of where?”

“...here. We’ll pay for the things.”

“OH.”

He happily follows you to the checkout area after you pass by the butcher, where the cashier gives you a look of “I am not nearly paid enough to deal with any shenanigans associated with you”. Thankfully you’re not here for shenanigans, and you pay without a problem. Anti tries to carry all the groceries for you, balancing the pumpkins in his arms and holding the bag with the meat and batteries with his tail.

“Y’know, I can hold something.”

“No! I got it!”

He’s rather determined, so you just let him. You actually have him buckle in on the way home with how he’s vibrating with excitement. The music seems to satiate his energy a little bit, just enough for the short ride home. He nearly sprints inside with the things, ripping into a pack of batteries as you prep the pumpkin for him. As to not ruin the surprise, you start up the alarm clock again so you can hide batteries in the pumpkin as well. All the guts are put into a bowl, and you fill it with the meat and batteries, closing it up and sneaking it through the living room to put on the back porch. Not exactly wanting raw meat on your floor.

“Anti! Come get your surprise!”

His head pops around the corner, once again with the clock in his mouth. At the sight of the pumpkin his pupils expand, which is a bit creepier with him having six eyes. You step back as he starts stalking it like it’s his prey, not wanting to be in the way when he lunges. He tumbles off the deck with his body curled around it, landing on it and watching as the pumpkin starts to crack.

“I think I need to buy more pumpkins…”

“Hm-?”

Anti just looks at you, a mouth full of meat and batteries after he gets the top off.

“Don’t worry too much, buddy. You just have your fun.”

“Okie.”

You really hope your backyard doesn’t look like a murder scene in the morning.

[dethkomic]

On Army of the Doomstar Day - And Remembering Jon Schnepp

Hey Goofballs. I didn't really have anything like this planned until the moment hit me, spontaneously. Today's a very special day, as Dethklok the live band gears up to go on tour, we've been blessed with not only a new Dethalbum, but a conclusion to the whole series. This being a momentous finale, over a decade in the making, I again wanted to take a minute to remember someone, just as I did last year..

Jon Schnepp was a guy you could pick out, even if it weren't for the fact that he was usually the tallest dude in any given crowd. He loved comics, music, good vegetarian food that didn't suck, and loved meeting his sweaty nerd fans. As a comic book artist myself, I had the rare privilege of meeting Jon on several occasions through the years at various comic conventions. We also kept in touch on social media, leaving likes and words of praise on each other's projects. Genuine to a fault, Jon was always the biggest fan of anything his friends were doing. He had impeccable comedic timing too. I'll never forget the message he sent me on Facebook when friends and I attended the first ever 70,000 Tons of Metal Cruise:

"I want to go... :("

For as big a Metalocalypse fan as I've been through the years, Jon absolutely eclipsed me in all ways. He loved the show, loved talking about the show, loved discussing production and animation and the characters, whose likenesses he himself designed. One of my prized possessions is a comic book Jon signed and drew a Murderface on the inside frontispiece of. We all agreed that triangle-hair was the pinnacle of good character art.

When he died in 2018, I remember he was either going to be at, or had recently attended a convention in my former hometown of Columbus, Ohio. I remember letting him know I wasn't going to be able to make it, but promising to catch him on the next one. I never got the chance.

Jon Schnepp left behind a hole in the cartoon and comic industry that has yet to be filled to this day. But he also leaves a hell of a legacy. I've been in comics since the early 2000's and one thing I can guarantee you readers is that the rarest thing in the entertainment industry is this: Getting the ability to see a story through to its conclusion.

As artists, it's a sad fact that we don't always get to see what we create come full-circle. We're extra-super lucky still, to have that circle continue on after we're gone. Regardless of what you believe, I bet it would do Jon proud to know his work lives on, today. I bet he'd love the movie and it's wild animation and incredible art and music and story. I bet he'd be happy to have that closure. I know he'd love hearing how much we all enjoyed it, knowing the wild ride we all took to get here.

Jon, we miss you, man. Brendon, Tommy, writers, artists, animators, and any and all sweaty nerds reading this -- you did it. We the fans love you and we'll see you on the road. Hold your heads high. You carried the torch across that finish line.

We'll take it from here.

[historia-vitae-magistras]

Part Two: Space

Part One: Here. Part Two: You are Here. Part Three: Here.

Author's note: Inspired by the 1950s short story "The Man Who Came Early" by Poul Anderson. This is as close to sci-fi as I've ever written and therefore not accurate to the ISS or other actual science because its time travel. Warnings for panic and some goreless action.

International Space Station 400 km above the surface of the Earth. 21st Century

“Careful up there, Jones.” The navigation officer’s voice echoed through the intercom, making Alfred look up, a domed helmet in his hand. He grinned.

“Don’t you worry yourself, darling,” He replied. “I’ve sat on some bison bigger than that panel.”

He could practically hear her eye roll. “Stay in communication and don’t pull another stunt like that backflip.”

“Aww, c’mon. Kids on the live stream went wild for it.”

“Try me, Jones. There won’t be a presidential order on earth that’ll get you back up here again.”

“Laaaaaame.”

The ISS floated serenely 400 kilometres above the earth. Alfred sailed from the equipment locker, pushing off until he reached the airlock. An old hand at this, it was almost as intuitive as horseback riding was when he was younger, but his heart sped up anyway. He clamped his helmet down and checked the comms.

“Eagle Scream, back to baseboys, over. Confirm baseboys.”

He could practically hear an eye roll from the command module. “Eagles don’t even scream. They get that sound from a hawk.”

“That should be a state secret.” Alfred grumbled. There was a whoosh as the airlock was sealed at the inner end. He opened the outer hatch, giving it one final pat for good luck. Hitching his tether, he grabbed the metal rails and took a moment. He never got sick of this part, the void of nothingness with the sheer expanse of the universe before him. The sun was at 40 degrees; the planet was just behind him.

Tossing a look over his shoulder, he could see the little green sweep of Nantucket at the edge of a grey nor’easter. He released one hand to get a better look. He was a handsome bugger from this angle, almost a thousand miles above the earth. He couldn’t quite reach his ass in the suit, but California looked good regardless. When he was done being vain, reverence swept him through the weightless silence. He leaned his helmeted head against his shoulder, watching his pale blue dot. He smiled: home sweet home.

“Move your ass, Jones.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He snapped out of his reverie, grinning in the helmet. After releasing the rails, he sailed gracefully up and behind until the Canadarm appeared. She was preloaded. All he had to do was line it up, fix some wiring and screw it in, and they were golden.

“Jones to command. Jones to command. Come in command. Need you to swing’er over nice and easy.”

The bright white arm twitched on its crane-like elbow joint, and its flexing attachment worked as steel fingers clamped on the panels and kept them in place as Alfred fastened them. It had better joints than Matt, only whirring softly instead of popping and creaking like organic bubble wrap. Alfred positioned himself near the panel that needed replacing, flexing his hands and cracking his knuckles before pulling out his wrench. The arm reached out, perhaps a bit too fast.

“Whoa, easy on the gears! My brother will shit bricks if we fuck up his baby.”

“Sorry.”

Alfred replaced the panels for an hour. The steady guidance of the Canadarm provided the stability he needed to make damn sure the solar panel was securely in place. He stopped, needing an adjustment as the command module chatted with Houston.

Alfred patted the arm and said, "You've got a better grip on that panel than Mattie does on his mental health." She was almost alive, the machinery warm, and she practically purred.

“Captain, we’ve got some funky radiation readings.”

“Almost done, just crank’er up .2 degrees and I can get this finished and come back in for some sweet tea.”

“Houston advises re-entry.”

So? They hadn’t ordered to retreat, and navigation wasn’t panicking. “I just need oh point two degrees and thirty seconds.”

“Noted.”

Canadarm moved a touch. “There you go.” He centred the panel and lined up the screws. He was the last one in when the alarm rang. Emergency lights flashed red and blue. Alfred had never heard them in action before and grew cold. Comms opened again. No. He breathed. He was not panicking.

“Captain, they’re ordering re-entry.”

“Retract the arm. On my way.”

Alfred gripped the rungs and swung his line out of the way. He pushed off hard and scrambled over the top of the rigid cylinder of the can-shaped module. It was dark here, away from his work lights and sliding across the expanse towards the hatch. He caught himself on the handle, keeping his movements controlled.

“Captain?”

“Almost there.”

“Radiations rising!”

Alfred glanced towards the sun, not looking at it. It was brighter now, with dark fire spots. The rings of light jumping up the Corona stretched and flexed like the hoops of the flexible baleen skirts he used to crawl under every now and then before Lemonade Lucy came along and put him on the straight and narrow.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me we were going to get solar flares?”

“The data didn’t show any!”

“Well, that just dills my pickle.” He muttered. He was almost at the hatch. It was brighter now, and he scrambled up the rungs, barely touching one before climbing the next. Alfred swung at the hatch.

Almost there, almost there. Why was he hot? He shouldn’t be hot. His fingers slipped inside his gloves, but he had the lever in his hand. The world fell black before he closed his fingers.

Incident Report Diplomatic Security Service Bureau of Diplomatic Security State Department

On [redacted] and at [redacted], the ISS and ground services at Carnaval facilities reported unusual radiation readings and advised the crew to return inside. See addendum one. Captain [redacted] was in contact with personnel until Captain [redacted]'s suit abruptly transmitted a distress beacon. A thorough search of the ISS was conducted, leading to the discovery of an empty spacesuit, with the helmet still attached. The inner flight suit, including the Snoopy cap and lining, was not recovered. It has been suggested that a replacement may have been made. However, the space suit contained four viable samples of [redacted]'s DNA, leaving no doubt that it belonged to [redacted]. See Addendum Two.

Two simultaneous investigations were conducted by a multidisciplinary team of experts from [redacted] and [redacted]. Interviews were conducted, telemetry data analyzed, and video footage reviewed. The spacesuit Captain [redacted] wore was intact, with no signs of damage or malfunction. Video footage and telemetry data did not reveal any abnormalities or anomalies, except as previously noted. Crew interviews did not provide any significant information regarding the incident. Pushback regarding these results has been seen overseas, significantly [redacted] and [redacted]. It is the recommendation of this body that our counterparts be updated as to the results of this investigation due to the international familial ties of the next of kin and the diplomatic pressure being leveraged.

[danwhobrowses]

One Piece Chapter 1129 - Initial Thoughts

A little late in the evening but the latest One Piece chapter made it on a Thursday

We know we're in a makeshift world made by a giant posing as a 'Sun God' but now we've pissed them off and we're riding a cat outta here

Just your regular shenaniganry, let's see what comes next

Spoilers for the Chapter, Support the Official Release too

Nice to see Tama still training, but the cover story still feels stop/start, people are going missing, Inu is concerned, we aren't gonna do anything about that?

The villagers try to calm the 'Sun God' but it's no use

They're not so good with the facade either, calling them the titular 'living dolls'

Their 'temple' is their room, and their pets are their 'servants'

The crew wanna get away though, still riding on the Iskat

Luffy though shows some light appreciation for all the work taken into building this place...so ofc Iskat breaks a bit of it

The mirrors around the room create an illusion, but there's nothing behind the 'Yggdrasil' tree, meaning they're halfway

Nami tosses the blueprints, mainly because she memorized them

Even Luffy is now seeing the deception, that's when you know you're had

The big sun staff though is actually a net! What are you trying to catch Fairy God Parents?

They call the place a 'Giant Detention Center', so is it like a prison?

Huh, a prison for giants, which means they're confident the crew can't escape as they trap them in the net

Dehehe seems to be their unique laugh too

The net however is no match for Sanji and Zoro, even with metal wire

The 'Sun God' remains confident though, feeling they would be intercepted by the Ear God

Unfortunately now they get told that the Ear God has been wiped out and god we saw the bones

Luffy you picked this guy's pet clean!

They call it their 'Gult Bunny', could be a reference to Glut but there's not really a bunny reference there

Instead of anger though, the 'Sun God' marvels at the chaos, going full immersion to how the Straw Hats are influencing their miniature world

Oh, it seems some locals are aware that they're living in a ruse, seeking an opportunity to leave

This 'Sun God' knows Hajrudin, but doesn't seem to approve of Luffy like he does

Usopp shoots out a massive Skull Bombgrass, it breaks the mirror but there's still a wall behind

'Setbacks and Disappointment, that's the core of Character Development' - don't forget trauma and angst

The 'Sun God' addresses the crew with the suffix '-Taso', but even the crew don't know what it means

Uh huuuuuh, that Gear Fourth 'mistake' a few chapters back was actually not a mistake, it seems that Luffy can gauge Gear Fourth in smaller bursts and areas, as he preps a Kong Gun

Nami asks Usopp if nobody's to blame over a natural disaster and we already know what she's thinking

Of course Sanji supports this idea, mainly because of jealousy for being able to dress her

We flash back now, Muginn seemed to pick up the Sunny

The 'Sun God' is actually a face you might know, Road the Navigator from Hajrudin's crew

Your current getup is better than your regular though bud

He was also surprised to see that his Raven has picked up the Straw Hats, and wonders why they're sleeping

Seems that there is a 'Sleeping Mist Belt', causing the bout of unconsciousness

Road didn't appreciate Hajrudin joining the Grand Fleet on his own volition, seems Road has a bit of stigma towards humans, thinking them frail

But the casual lusting of Nami continues, she stirs but he seems to put them to sleep again

Road continues to brag, wanting them to stay and run wild, but they are blind to the massive black cloud overhead

'Sun God' meet Lightning God

The lightning bolt hits but doesn't knock Road down, hella durable these giants

Luffy laments leaving legoland, but ends the chapter bursting through the wall

Another fun chapter there, a bit more context and lore going on

bit odd the giants didn't know about a sleeping mist area, maybe too busy partying?

It's funny now how many thought Road was a girl simply because of heels, Brook has worn heels after all. It being a member of Hajrudin's crew is an interesting wrinkle, it shows that there is some cultural stigma towards humans, maybe some that disagree with not just Hajrudin but Dorry and Brogy.

Luffy's appreciation for the block world does feel like it'll come back around, but still you ate his rabbit! Road himself does have that One Piece-esque kookiness, bit too invested in storytelling maybe? Elbaf is Fable backwards after all.

Speaking of, the end of the chapter has the crew hoping that they're in Elbaf, I'm not so sure, feels like it could be a misdirect. Road called it a 'Giant Detention Center' so maybe it's on the outskirts, if he's the only one manning it too it might've been abandoned.

We shall see how close and how far we are to Elbaf yet.

[hamofjustice]

Nemona the Unrivaled

Chapter 2: An Open Window

Info / Chapter Select: here

Nemona and her Cyclizar zoomed down the dirt road through the beautiful Poco Path, past its assorted curious little wild Pokemon, accompanied by the considerably less beautiful slapping sound of Cyclizar’s rubbery paw pads...

When there was a violet flash in the sky above.

A strange shiny purple thing with what looked like yellow wings or fins was falling out of the sky right towards them. A Pokemon they’d never seen before? Some kind of fallen spacecraft? An oncoming missile?! Cyclizar slowed down and backed off and Nemona shielded her face with her arm...

...But whatever it was disappeared from sight behind a cliff down to the beach, without a splash or explosion or anything -- it must’ve landed quietly in the sand. Everything weighing on Nemona’s mind before was forgotten for the time being as she fully committed to investigating this, feeling renewed by the curiosity. Was whatever this was fate? She dismounted Cyclizar in front of a broken cliffside guardrail fence and they peeked over the edge together to check out the beach below.

A purple metallic... Pokemon? Pokemon, with four large silver paws and a very long silver tail, was indeed lying in the sand, looking like it was hurt or passed out. Nemona thought it looked pretty awesome and powerful, but she knew it wasn't the time to focus on that. A pack of Houndour ran out onto the beach from a nearby cave to surround the mysterious creature.

“OYEEE!! Leave that thing alone!” she shouted down at them, cupping her palms like a megaphone as if a group of wild Pokemon were just going to listen to her that easily. When they predictably did not, she quickly returned Cyclizar to its Ball in exchange for her Kilowattrel, and rode the large, imposing electric seagull down to the beach below. The last time she tried jumping off and relying on her Rotom Phone to slow her momentum like some daredevil trainers did, she couldn’t use her arms for a couple days.

Nemona hopped off her Pokemon’s back onto the sand and backed off, giving it the space it needed to drive the Houndour pack back into the cave by threatening to use Discharge. Meanwhile, she ran over to check out the status of the violet beast from the sky. It seemed like a robot, covered in lights and sparkly bits that were flickering and going out, with what seemed to be... an LCD display for eyes? Yet it also had the presence and fluid motions of a living and breathing creature -- a very weak, barely conscious one. It looked a bit like a bigger Cyclizar, with riding gear as a part of its body (as well as those silly jet engines Team Star punks loved strapping onto them). It was definitely like nothing Nemona had ever seen in real life before, only in sci-fi or those weird conspiracy magazines. What the heck was she looking at? More importantly... was it gonna be okay?

“Hey, buddy... hey... you alright? Need help? Huhhh...?” Nemona asked gently, trying her best to sound like she was soothing a baby and not let her worry for its safety (or her own) seep into her voice. She was pretty sure she shouldn’t try to touch it just yet, given she had no idea what it could do if it felt threatened. Kilowattrell returned to Nemona’s side, ready to intervene if anything happened. Nemona’s composure didn’t last long, as this potentially being a critical situation she was now responsible for began to sink in. “Uh... okay, um, um... Hey, are you hurt anywhere?”

“... Gia...” it muttered.

Okay, that was a response, but it seemed too tired to move. Hopefully that weak cry meant ‘no’. Nemona pulled a Hyper Potion out of her bag and thought for a moment, then shook her head and put it back. Not yet. She rummaged around a bit more before pulling out a baggie of Sitrus Berries instead. It was amazing how much stuff someone could fit into the backpacks and satchel bags Trainers typically wore. “You want some of theeese, bud?” she asked temptingly as she held a couple of the healing fruits out in front of what appeared to be its snout, realizing a bit too late that it might bite her fingers. It sniffed a few times, then slowly scooped the Berries into its mouth with an unsettlingly organic lavender tongue. Gross, but lucky.

After a slow gulp and a few moments of suspense, the semi-robotic creature slowly rose to sit on its haunches. That seemed to have done the trick.

“Agias...”

Kilowattrel spread its wings and squawked in celebration. “SkreEEK!”

“Woorgh.” the violet beast responded, wincing away from Kilowattrel’s volume.

Nemona offered it a third berry. “There ya go, that’s it... feel a little better, amigo?”

The lizard-thing scarfed that one down more eagerly than the others, then stood on all fours and gazed up... longingly? at one of the steep cliffs above them.

“Huh? What’re you lookin’ at?” Nemona asked as she wiped off her slobbery hand on her shorts. She noticed an empty Poke Ball sitting in the sand and picked it up for good luck -- she always had trouble resisting picking up random stuff she saw on the ground -- then craned her neck up to follow the beast’s gaze. “The lighthouse?”

“Agias!” it barked eagerly. ‘Lighthouse’ definitely seemed to be a word it knew.

“You wanna go up there?” She asked, pointing upward. “And... I guess you probably can’t fly anymore. Hmm... I don’t think I have any Pokemon with me that could carry a big fella like you, sooo... uh... Oh, we’ll go through this cave over here, okay?” She continued, pointing to the large opening the Houndour came from, then tracing her finger back up to the lighthouse in case that wasn’t clear enough. “My Pokemon are pretty strong, we’ll protect you, no problem!” she promised with a fist pump.

“Woorgh. Agias.”

The mysterious Pokemon turned toward the cave and seemed to agree to follow Nemona through it. She decided the tunnels might be a little too cramped for Kilowattrel’s huge wingspan, and put her Tauros on guard duty instead. The escort went off without a hitch; most of the Pokemon in there wanted nothing to do with the bull Pokemon, and it easily smashed some of the boulders blocking the path through the winding, mossy cavern. While the Houndour pack’s Houndoom leader did attempt a confrontation, it was knocked aside too easily to even call it a battle. Soon, Nemona and her old and new companion emerged from a tunnel back onto Poco Path, fairly close to where she’d gone down from.

Nemona’s new friend perked up at the lighthouse now being so close and eagerly trotted up toward it. “Agias!”

“Oye, wait up, haha!”

Nemona and her Tauros chased it happily through the grass. She was having a good time for just a bit... until she saw a familiar fluffy-haired classmate in their path and snapped coldly back to reality. Yeah, okay, she kinda thought he lived in that lighthouse but wasn’t totally sure...?

Arven jumped back in surprise. “Why you little... what're you doing out here?!" he shouted incredulously... but after a moment, Nemona realized Arven wasn’t looking at her -- he was addressing the violet beast that ran ahead of her.

“Agi! Agias!”

“Huh? You know each other?” Nemona asked with wide eyes.

“You... I wasn’t talking to you. You can shove off.” Arven sneered.

Nemona’s brow furrowed and jaw clenched in an instant. Some part of her still felt raw from earlier, and facing another hostile attitude so soon felt like ripping the bandage off way too early.

“Hey! I just rescued this fella from passing out on the beach after that crash landing, why don’t YOU can it for once, buster?” She retorted as she marched up to him and crossed her arms. Tauros stepped closer alongside her, but looked a bit surprised by her reaction.

Arven huffed and turned away from her to give the mysterious Pokemon a once-over. “... What’s with this form it’s in? I wouldn’t be surprised that it needed rescuing, it can’t fight anything all powered-down like this.”

“Form? Powered-down?” Nemona asked with an eyebrow raised. She expected Arven to have a retort rather than give her information.

The subject of their conversation started pawing at one of the doors to the lighthouse in the background.

“Ugh. Yeah. Miraidon here is... a real special Pokemon. And a real special thorn in my side! Hey, knock that off, you can't go in the lab. It's locked."

Miraidon cowered a bit.

“What happened, you big brute, did Dad stop feeding YOU, too?”

“Gia...”

“... Too? Wait, is this something Professor Turo found? What do you mean by --”

Arven gritted his teeth. “Didn’t I tell you to shove off?! I’m far too out of sorts to humor more of your prying little questions about my problems right now, student council girl. Don’t you have some trophies to polish? Tie length regulations to enforce? Little kids to beat up for their lunch money?

Nemona scowled more with each passing second as her Tauros side-eyed her nervously. It wasn’t the type to attack Arven like a wild Tauros might, but it did snort loudly. She shut her eyes, attempted to bottle everything up, and took a deep breath, before asking her next question in an unsettlingly calm and even tone, like her best impression of La Primera.

“... Arven. Why are you always like this.”

He just glared back at her and didn’t say a word, despite Miraidon looking at him expectantly too.

“If there’s something I did to deserve this rotten attitude of yours... could you PLEASE just tell me so I can fix it?” Nemona continued with her hands clasped together in front of her chest. Her composure was starting to crack just as quickly as she’d gained it.

Arven looked down at the ground. “... Why’s it so important to you? Couldn’t you go buy some other friends, student council girl?” He muttered.

And then her composure shattered. Her hands tightened into fists and everything she’d bottled up that day began to spill onto the dirt.

“No! No I can’t! And why! Do you keep! Calling me that! Arven?! I have a NAME!! You used to know it! I used to have fr- I-I used to be a PERSON, to people, not... not... ‘Student Council Girl’, or... ‘Princess,’ or ‘Big Shot Champion’, or, or... ‘Annoying Pest’, o-or ‘Other Daughter’... or... g-grah... aagaaAAAH!!!”

Nemona dropped to her knees -- sobbing, raging, overwhelmed -- in front of one of the top three people in the world that least she wanted to break down in front of.

Arven, meanwhile, leapt back a bit and momentarily held his hands up in fear, which would probably be hilarious under different circumstances.

She raised her gloved arm shakily, like she was about to punch the ground, but she thought better of it and let it fall limply. Tauros and Miraidon checked in and sniffed her from each respective side. Man, she was just a total mess right now. There was no coming back from this. She just wanted to cover her ears and shrivel up into a ball and return to the earth--

“... Uh. Um... S-sorry.” Arven said quietly.

Wait, what did he say?

Arven knelt down to her level. “I, uh... I dunno what exactly’s going on with you, but... It sounds like you don’t need to be knocked down a peg today... Nemona.”

Huh?

“I’m...” Arven huffed and scratched his fluffy scalp. “... I’ve really been at the end of my rope lately, let’s say. But I’d never guess you were too. Sorry.”

Nemona looked up at Arven, quite confused. Her glistening eyes darted around his face looking for a sign this was some kind of trick. But no, he mostly just looked guilty and uncomfortable. She’d gotten through to that standoffish brick of a boy somehow. She felt some pretty intense whiplash from being furious, ashamed, and cautiously relieved in such quick succession, but... found a tiny smile in her heart that she could wear.

“Heh... I’m just full of surprises.” she said with a sniffle.

When the moment ended and Arven stood up, offering Nemona a hand, she took it.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Bereavement (Simon "Ghost" Riley)

[MY MASTERLIST]

Rating: M Words: 800-ish words CW: SPOILERS FOR MW3, grief, mentions of death, stealing from the dead Tags: SPOILERS FOR MW3, Ghostxf!OC (but not in this part), Soap MacTavish's family (mentioned), grief, mentions of death, stealing from the dead Summary: Ghost is going to visit Soap's resting place. He has a lot of feelings. a/n: This is part of my fic, but I had so many feelings while writing this that I wanted to share it as a 'standalone'-ish. Also it made me cry. Also I write a lot of angsty grief.

December 20th, 2023.

Loch Torridon, Scotland

57°35'57.3"N 5°43'39.4"W

2348Hours, T-Minus 12 minutes until midnight

Ghost wasn’t a bereaved man. 

He had buried his family and plenty of teammates before. He knew grief, and how to move on; there was no need to dwell on it, relive it, reminisce about it…

But minutes before the one-month anniversary, he, nonetheless, found himself trekking over the uneven terrain toward the cliffs.

If you asked him why he was doing this, he wouldn’t provide an answer. He didn’t have one. He had just gotten in his car and started driving… and eight hours later, here he was.

With only a flashlight to guide him (thanks to his preparedness of always keeping a toolbox in the boot), he moved under cover of night toward the place where they had laid Soap to rest.

Ghost wasn’t a spiritual man.

But something about Soap’s spirit not being honored on the one-month anniversary of his death felt wrong.

Or maybe it was just that Simon didn’t want to be alone in his quarters.

And so he walked.

And walked.

And walked.

The place they had picked for the release of the ashes was one that Johnny’s 3rd older sister had mentioned that he always liked to go to. A couple of klicks south of a bothy, aka a rain shelter for travelers, there was a set of rocks at the edge of a cliff, where Johnny had once carved his initials: JMT, like all teenage boys do.

Pippa MacTavish had told the three men that her baby brother had taken a girl on a date there once, and had gotten his first kiss on that spot. Ghost was almost sure that the young Johnny and his crush had done more than just ‘kiss’ that night. But he kept his mouth shut. Though, on the inside, he did cheer on the youngin.

Ghost wasn’t a sentimental man.

But he had kept a set of Johnny’s dog tags for himself.

The kid might have been a bit of a wild child and a loose cannon, but he took his gear seriously. Or maybe he was just that proud of his military service. Either way, he had multiple sets of dog tags.

Besides the patch indicating his blood type on his vest, he wore a set of metal tags around his neck, kept another in a small pocket in his pack, and another in his childhood bedroom at home.

Ghost had stolen from the dead many times… both enemies and teammates alike. He never felt guilty before, because it was needed: weapons, ammo, FAKs... Sometimes those stolen pieces of gear had kept Ghost alive when a more morally sound man would’ve died.

He hadn’t been stupid enough to take the ones he was wearing on him, those were his family’s to keep. But Ghost had stuck his hand in Soap’s pack while riding on the convoy and pocketed the spares.

And keeping a set of Soap’s dog tags for himself felt wrong.

So he didn’t tell anyone.

Ghost wasn’t a friendly man.

But he had grown fond of Johnny.

Ghost tried to keep people at a distance, but Johnny had an issue with giving people their personal space, it seems. The bloody Scot had crashed through Simon’s barriers and taken his trust by force.

Soap had made his way into Simon’s cold, dead heart like he was breaking and entering… Then proceeded to say “This is nice and cosy, mind if I stay ‘ere a while?” and despite his objections, the kid had just set up shop and stayed perfectly nestled in.

Like an annoying younger brother…

And Simon couldn’t get mad at that.

Ghost kept moving over the grass, his flashlight pointing downward and a bit ahead so he didn’t trip over a rock or something.

If spirits do exist, then Johnny would surely mock him from the afterlife if he tripped on his way to the ‘memorial’.

With that thought in mind, Ghost decided to be even more careful.

Just as he was coming up the hill, however… He spotted it. The dark silhouette of a person sitting over the rocks.

Only Soap’s family and the 1-4-1 knew about this spot…

Maybe it was a family member of Johnny’s...

But he couldn’t help but feel like it was an intruder… And with Makarov still on the loose, he wasn’t taking any chances.

His right hand slowly palmed the handle of his sidearm as his left quickly turned off his flashlight. He went back to blending in with the darkness of the seaside cliffs.

Then, he slowly began to take silent tentative steps through the darkness, hoping that the cold wind would be enough to mask the sounds of his footfalls as he approached.

He was going to find out who this was.

[imaslutforwritingshit]

BORN TO KILL- A MIGUEL O’HARA ROMANCE

PART FIVE

Chapter 14

Blood rushed in my ears as I comprehended what he had told me.

Did Miguel really just stop me from orgasming because I fucked Reiner?

Oh, and that familiar rage settled in my stomach again. My body was burning from the aftermath of what Miguel just did to me, but with my limp legs, I managed to find my way back to headquarters.

Miguel wasn't in his room. The red office was barren, sheets of his bed messy, orange screens of technology left open. I slammed the door, careless of the fact I could've messed something up.

How could he do that to me? I finally thought we were on similar terms- that I had as much power as him. And not just in sex- me and Miguel's sparring had become even in the past couple of days.

And that bastard didn't let me finish.

I gritted my teeth, and swung my body to my hallway.

After shutting the door of my room, I huffed, staring with frustration at the girl in the mirror.

My hair was a ball of frizz on my head, no doubt due to the way Miguel had been pulling it a couple minutes ago.

Butterflies nestled in the pit of my stomach again, and I shoved them down from a place of anger.

My eyes were wild, and I bit down on my swollen lower lip, a deeper shade of pink than usual.

But besides the obvious flaws to my current appearance, I came to realization.

I'm really fucking hot.

How could he act like I wasn't tempting him? Like his attraction to me wasn't the reason he had fucked me just now?

So fuck Miguel. Fuck him for trying to control me all the time, fuck him for not letting me fuck who I want, fuck him for not letting me come.

I lifted my chin up, revenge sticking to the clicking gears of my brain.

My oversized shirt was damp with sweat and... some other fluids after the arena. I took it off, repositioning my lace bra, and slipped on a purple silk cami. After searching through the large arrangement of clothing until I finally got what I wanted, I fit my thighs through a black mini skirt. One that hardly covered my ass.

If Miguel thinks I'm so undeserving of a good fuck, I'll treat him the same way.

I'll be candy he can't eat.

I'm done with him not taking me seriously. As if I was some prize he could hold, show off, but never respect.

I slid dark lipstick over my lips, and slipped on comfortable heels the shade of ivory.

After fighting a battle with my hair using water and a spray bottle, the curls came back to full volume, and I felt good with my appearance.

As I looked at the mirror, my eyes wandering over my frame, a golden glint of light hit me from the desk of my room. I followed the light, moving my body until I could see it clearly.

The golden necklace Gwen had given me.

Miguel's symbol.

When I asked Gwen why the hell I had it, she explained that it was the symbol for the S.S- a symbol of hope.

But right now, it looked like a symbol of rebellion to me.

I slid the metal over my neck.

Gwen was right. I do look like a maneater.

˚₊𓆩༺����༻𓆪₊˚

I had never been underground the S.S before. Miguel's arena is one staircase down, but the prison is a whole elevator ride down. I tapped my fingers nervously on the metal pole, and finally, the heavy doors of the confined elevator slid open.

Dark lighting, pipes, and metal cubes surrounding the area. My heels clacked loudly on the blue floor, and I noted the small fluorescent bulbs hanging from the ceiling.

A growl snaked from the other side of the room. My senses heightened at the amount of monsters around me.

As I continued walking, I gazed at the glass prisons confining villains. Many were otherworldly- with spikes, horns, or neon colors of skin- each with scowling, defeated expressions.

But other villains looked too human. Kind eyes, smiles, gestures of friendliness. I abruptly shifted my gaze, trying to ignore the fact that those humans had higher security on their cages.

In the very back of the room, I spotted white, messy hair covering the eyes of a curled-up man. I took a shaky breath, and began to walk towards Reiner.

At the sound of my heels, Reiner lifted his head, eyes of wild blue meeting mine. Under his eyelashes, red and black dark circles traced his beautiful face, and he flickered his mouth in a small grin.

"Well, well, well. My red flame." He licked his dry lips, and repositioned his body to cross his legs.

Mike was wearing green sweatpants, and a green long sleeve was thrown to the side of the room, the clothing Miguel gave all prisoners. He was wearing nothing on his upper body, pale defined muscles contrasting in the white light.

I swallowed, trying to figure out the right words to speak. I mimicked his body language, settling down in a criss-cross on the floor, inches away from the thick glass separating us.

"Reiner."

He tilted his head, amusement flickering his exhausted eyes. "Scarlett."

I chewed on my bottom lip; sitting up straighter. "I'm... I'm sorry that it ended this way."

He let out a dry laugh. "Are you, now?"

I nodded, wincing at the pain coating his voice.

Reiner tapped his fingers on the cushioned floor under him. "I know you're here for a reason, Scarlett. Get on with it."

I inhaled, a deep breath curing me from my nervous heart. "Miguel didn't send me," I answered, too quickly to sound casual. "I'm here on my own. I'm actually kind of pissed at him."

Reiner nodded, squinting his eyes. "You seem to be pissed at him a lot, if I'm correct." His voice was heavy, warming my body from the inside out. Fuck, I forgot how hot he sounded.

I hoped the dark of the room hid the blush on my face. "Maybe. But he's not what I want to talk about. He's not why I'm here."

Reiner leaned in, interest contorting his face.

"And why are you here, my darling?"

I mentally braced myself for my next words.

"I need you to tell me about Casanova. The real Casanova, I mean. The rebellion."

Reiner smiled widely, satisfaction blending with his features. "What makes you think I'll tell you?"

Grimness washed over my face. "Because I'm not sure which side I'm on anymore."

Reiner's smile vanished so quickly it made my heart skip. "Well. Where do I begin, then?"

I rolled my shoulders, and leaned in to the glass even more. If the clear wall hadn't existed, me and Reiner could've felt each others heat.

"From the beginning. Tell me why you broke the canon."

Chapter 15

Reiner sighed audibly, and rested his body on his elbows.

"I was 19 when it began. When I became Spider-Man."

I nodded empathically, carefully moving my body, cautious of any noise that would scare him from the confession.

He looked down at his chest. "I was young, sort of dumb. My father had built Casanova as a simple science facility- only interested in the quantum mechanics of everyday life." He wavered. "Of course I had to ruin that."

I pursed my lips, letting my quiet be an invitation for him to continue talking.

"With my new powers, I experimented on everything, everyone. I found ways to freeze men in a couple seconds. Shoot ice daggers with my fingertips." He rolled the last word, his Norwegian accent heavy. "It wasn't until I first killed a politician on earth 1032 that Miguel had came to me."

I knit my eyebrows together. "You and Miguel were friends?"

Reiner smiled wickedly. "Oh, my red flame. Has he told you nothing?"

I swallowed a lump in my throat, and smoothed out the small skirt draping over my thighs. "He might hold things back from me, but that doesn't excuse killing good people. And all for money." My voice was venom, a spit in his face.

Reiner flinched weakly, then bit his lip, letting the skin slide off his straight teeth.

"I didn't kill anyone good. I just ended the lives of people who were going to be bad. Why do you act like any of them have a place in this word? As if the rich and the powerful wouldn't get drunk off the feeling of superiority. You know I'm right." Reiners voice had turned clipped.

Anger rose to color my cheeks red. "Someone who kills for personal benefit is not right."

Reiner paused, and snaked his tongue on his upper lip. A smirk flickered on his pretty mouth.

"Hume."

"What?" The confusion pitched my voice.

"David Hume. A philosopher known for his rejection of the rational notion of virtue. He's right, you know. The idea of what's good and bad stems from human emotions." He clicked his tongue. "Nothing but petty feelings and emotions. That's what dictates the right from wrong."

The frustration of his words were bursting through my skull. "You're wrong!" My voice rang through the echoing space, and it took me a second of silence to realize I had proven his point.

Reiner nodded, satisfaction dancing on his lips. "To understand my reason for the corruption of the rich, is to try to understand that I'm doing the world a favor. It might sound tainted now," Reiner clenched his teeth. "But soon, you'll be begging for me to take you with me."

I stood up quickly, the length of my miniskirt riding up too much more than ideal. Reiners eyes slid to the bare skin of my thighs, and he inhaled shortly, closing his eyes.

Closing his eyes as if he wanted to remember my body like this.

"You look so fucking beautiful, my red flame."

The words travelled throughout the empty area, and the drop of my stomach yearned for the sensation again.

Miguel had never said a thing like that to me.

His only compliments were taunts for power, but Reiner seemed to respect me the way a man should.

In some ways, Reiner was truly better than Miguel.

I rubbed my tongue on the backs of my teeth, not trusting myself to speak right now. I looked at his eyes, savoring my body, and I turned around.

Because I knew that if I stayed, I would do something very, very stupid.

"Don't you want to know what me and Miguel had done?" Reiner's smooth voice bounced off the metal walls.

I halted, still not turning my body to face him.

I could practically hear his smile in his voice. "He told me we could've achieved better things than I thought I was capable of. Greater things. Before the S.S, Miguel's mind was blinded by revenge. He wanted to kill everyone who ruined the multiverse. Every last one."

I shook the idea of blood on Miguel's hands off of my mind. "Why did you guys become enemies? Couldn't you argue you both had the same motives?"

Distaste crept into Reiner's voice. "Oh yes. You could argue that. Except the oh-so good leader turned against me. He plotted a raid on the Casanova behind my back, and when I couldn't stop him, he stripped my father's legacy bare of information and equipment."

I whirled around to meet his eyes, now full of a raw, new pain. He dragged his teeth on a fist in front of his mouth, clenching his fingers.

"Everything I worked for in the last 4 years, he stole. He took it all away from me. Everything. So I began the rebellion. I would reduce the canon to rubble if it meant I could have revenge."

I stared at him, mouth agape. He had done all of this because of Miguel?

Reiner pushed his body up with his muscular arms, and stood to full height. I cautiously took a step closer to the prison door.

"The canon...without it, everything we know could disappear in seconds." My voice was unsteady.

Reiner placed his hands in the glass, pink palms smeared on the wall in front of me.

"Everything I've ever known has already disappeared. Because of him." He hardened his voice, that elegant softness of his expression leaving his face. "I have nothing to lose anymore. So don't think your charm and words will stop me from getting out of here." He drew his gaze up, the pale strands of his hair falling elegantly over his blue eyes. "Because when I do, I vow I'm going to end the S.S. Even if that means I'm ending you, too."

Heat rushed from the blood in my ears. I swallowed the fear in my throat, and balled my fists in an effort to remain strong. "Reiner, you aren't leaving this place. Ever."

Reiner stepped back. "Really? Don't you remember that me and Miguel were partners?" He smiled, evil covering his face. "I know how this prison works. I know how to escape. Jesus, I practically created amno-chains for that bastard." He leaned into the glass, lowering his liquid voice. "The only reason I haven't escaped yet, was because I was waiting for you to come to me. I knew you would."

My heart pounded. All of this was too much information, too many feelings in my chest.

"I'm not coming with you. Never. I'm staying with Miguel."

He made a long click of his tongue. "He really has you wrapped around his fucking finger, doesn't he?"

I stormed to the glass, and slammed my fist near the area of his face. "You have no idea what you're talking about. I hope you rot in this cage. You belong here, you goddamn monster." I backed away, walking backwards to the elevator.

Reiner furrowed his brows, genuine sadness washing over his eyes. "I really thought you would listen to me, my red flame. I thought you had some sense in that pretty brain of yours."

I shook my head, the rage coating my eyelids with crimson. "I can't believe you."

Reiner took one final step back, and stretched out his hands, then curled them into fists.

"Maybe not. Not yet. But you will, eventually.

I know you will."

I couldn't process his words because his body began to hum with a tingling sensation, a white steam of snow coating the prison he was in. Reiner's eyes turned white, and the snow around him heightened, filling the room so much I could hardly see him.

And in the whirlwind of snow and ice, I could make out the small smile and move of his lips on his powerful face.

"Goodbye, Scarlett."

The walls exploded, shards of glass shooting so far they could've hit me. My legs buckled, eyes squinted closed.

The world was quiet.

And when I heard the thump of my heart, I had realized what just happened.

A monster bellowed from a cage on the other side of the room, but the ringing from my ears didn't stop until I ran to the prison door.

Reiner escaped.

And what's worse, he had escaped on my watch.

I frantically searched the cage through the remanentes of snow and fog, but Reiner had vanished.

The only thing left of the villain was his long green t-shirt, hanging from the side of the bed.

Chapter 16

I bolted out of the room. "Gwen!" My screams were raw, and undirected, but I had no idea how to possibly make coherent sentences at the moment. My head was still swirling black with the shock of the explosion, and due to my lack of vision, I slammed full force into a tall man.

Oh.

That tall man.

Miguel grabbed me by my shoulders, a predatory hiss already forming in his mouth. But as he gazed in the fear of my eyes, Miguel's scowl softened.

"What's wrong?"

I reached in my brain for words to say, but came up empty.

"Re-Reiner."  I pointed at the underground prison, and Miguel lunged to the doors.

I could only hear the bone-chilling roar of Miguel's fury when he saw the empty prison cell.

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

"I didn't do anything! It wasn't my fault he escaped!" I protested again, creaking my body impatiently on his bed.

Miguel paused his frantic pacing, and jerked his body to mine, leaning on the knob of metal on a side of his bed frame.

"Oh, really?" Rage-filled amusement blazed in his eyes.

I nodded, ignoring the flush of my face when he looked at me like that. "He said he knew how to get out, without my help- mind you."

Miguel raised his eyebrows, clenching the metal pole.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Ah, okay. Okay. That's fucking-" Miguel yelled, frustration seared on the edge of his voice. He ripped the metal off the frame, and hurled the knob to a wall behind us.

My mouth dropped, and I covered it with my hand.

Miguel just tore metal apart like it was butter in his fist.

I involuntarily scooted my body to the pillows, a new fear spiking in my eardrums.

I have no true idea how strong he really is.

Miguel's eyes were blood red, and his fangs were shining in the dark LEDs of his room. "You," he hissed, pointing a finger at me. "Are not leaving." His words were ice, freezing my nerves. "I don't give a fuck how he escaped, he escaped and you didn't stop him. You fucking-"

Miguel groaned, and kicked a dumbbell on the side of his foot. How he didn't bruise his toes, I have no idea.

"It wasn't my fault! If anything, it was yours!" My voice pitched an octave higher. "You never told me you were partners with him."

Miguel covered his face with his hands. "I don't think I'm strong enough to talk to you about this right now. Without forcing pain on someone around me."

I flinched, and at that, my mouth snapped shut. What did he mean by forcing pain?

Miguel took an unsteady breath, and turned his back to me, the muscles defined in the fire-like light.

"You're staying in my room. I can't trust you after this, Scarlett. You're sleeping here, training, doing...fucking- I don't even care. But I'm not letting you out of my sight."

Confusion bled in my features. "What, I'm on house arrest? In your room?"

Miguel's voice was hard, cold steel. "I'm not joking, Scar. I'm not fucking joking right now."

The melody of his voice reminded me of the arena. I can hardly look at him without picturing his body, the way he had touched me. God, he had touched me.

And he's acting like nothing had happened.

He walked to the door, a sort of power in his rough movements that I had never seen in anyone else.

And before he locked me in, Miguel peered over his shoulder, the familiar darkness of his beautiful eyes returning.

"And I'm taking the bed."

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

I ground my teeth.

There was basically nothing to do in Miguel's room.

He has a small bookshelf, of quantum reality theories, and long science words I can't pronounce on large hard covers. There was a small stack of weights, dumbbells, and a pull-up bar on another side of the room. And then, of course, the weird contraption of computer screens on his platform.

I furrowed my brows, swinging my light body to the metal platform. The orange technology was calling to me. What else could I do in his room? Sleep?

Multiple small screens popped out of a giant neon one, each with small letters and pictures. When I tried to zoom in and read the words, a box saying "ENTER PASSWORD," popped in my frame of vision. I groaned, and slumped in his chair, clasping the armrests.

Think, Scarlett. What could Miguel's password be?

I bit my lip, and typed in the very possible answer.

"I'm a giant asshole." I clicked an enter button on the screen.

"ACCESS DENIED."

I breathed in to conceal my urge to break the technology. If this weird modern stuff could be broken.

Sadness spiked in my chest, a heavy feeling surrounding me. My mother had always been clumsy around laptops or phones. It was like she was repelled from the technology.

I missed her more and more each day. I can't even imagine what the city is like now, only the police handling things. Gwen assured me that if their were any major events, she would let me know.

But honestly, could I trust Gwen anymore? I wouldn't be surprised if she knew about Reiner's history at the Society.

A slow creeping thought bled through my head.

What if Reiner's right?

Maybe the canon isn't supposed to be saved, but be destroyed.

I stretched my thumbs, and pressed my fingers on the keypad. A password...

Like a fool, I typed my own name.

"ACCESS DENIED. ONE MORE ATTEMPT UNTIL SHUT DOWN."

I cursed. Of course. Why would I think that Miguel actually cared that much? He made it clear that I was only a quick fuck to him. Not even worthy of orgasming.

I sighed, ready to admit defeat. But a small file on the bottom of one yellow screen caught my eye.

A foggy picture of a small girl.

The file was named Gabriella.

A weird emotion flipped in my stomach. Why does Miguel have a picture of a kid on his screen?

Who is she to him?

I chewed on my upper lip. One more attempt.

Using my index finger, I tapped the letters,

"G a b r i e l l a," on the keyboard.

Lyla'a high voice changed pitch. "ACCESS GRANTED."

The fact that this girl was Miguel's password as well creeped me out even more. And not in a romantic sense, but with the idea of something worse- a family.

If Miguel had a family, I didn't want to ask why they weren't here anymore.

Because I knew how horrible it was to lose the ones I love.

Miguel's computer suddenly felt too private to skim as a joke. I exited out of the screen.

My eyes begun to feel heavy, and I swung my body upside down, slowly unraveling the web until I was on Miguel's bed.

It's so comfortable.

What laundry detergent does he use?

I breathed in the warm, clean scent of his sheets, and my eyelids draped closed.

I'm not going to sleep, or anything. I'm just going to... relax, for a little.

The buzz of the cold room kept me up. I slid my feet under the blanket, thinking of the day. Even though Miguel edged me, that was the most passionate sex I had ever had. If he could do that with his fingers...

My thighs warmed at the thought of him, all of him, in me. I hated how it turned me on. Because he wouldn't feel the same. God, I bet if we did reach that level, he wouldn't even touch my lips out of fear of it turning into something.

I scratched my neck, feeling a thin chain over my collarbones. I fiddled with Miguel's symbol, deep thought swirling my conscious brain.

What were me and Miguel? On the surface, enemies crossing the line of teasing friends. But sometimes he looked at me like I was something not of this world, and it made my heart burst in my chest every time he did.

My eyes fluttered, and I settled my body on the big pillows of Miguel's bed. I could see the faint color of his red room as I drifted to sleep, dreams already taking shape in my mind.

That’s it for right now:) Let me know if you want me to make these posts shorter- only one paragraph or something like that. And if you have a request, let me know❤️

[bidonica]

a good old get to know me meme

Tagged by @bigre-fichtre! thank you oomfie!

3 ships you like:

thee big one... Jaime x Brienne in asoiaf, I've been ride or die for them since like 2006 when I read Storm and AFfC back to back, they are two character I love individually but their chemistry, the way their storylines thematically intertwine, the dialogue they get to have? Unsurpassed. GRRM your mind

if you think I have Otasune brainrot lately just keep in mind that I'm editing myself down A LOT. Like I started playing the metal gears a little over a month ago and I've been obsessing ever since, which is remarkable because I have historically leaned towards het ships at least when it comes to getting really intense about them, I thought I lacked the fujo gene... they are THAT powerful... can love bloom even on a battlefield? Hell yeah it can and it WILL (this phrase applies so well to JB too btw)

grouping larycent and higgsfragile together because they are lowkey the same flavor of problematic: they are carried by the sour yet enticing flavor of devastating betrayal, of a good thing that got ruined, the scorpion and the frog etc.

First ship ever: nice question! I don't remember! I eased into shipping pretty gradually and fully embraced it pretty late (like late teens?) buut mayyybe Rogue and Gambit from the X-Men via the og cartoon

Last song you heard: Spotify tells me it's Entre Dos Tierras by Heroes del Silencio... I pulled it up because of Till Lindemann's cover which is on rotation on the rock radio I listen to and was rocking to it only for my brother to absolutely obliterate me saying "it sounds like a mashup of various songs by I Nomadi" iykyk

Currently reading: I am having the nastiest reader's block in 2024 I am even having trouble listening to audiobooks so yeah there are books I am "reading" but am I, really. But I just loaded the mgs4 novelization into my kindle........... in this vein I've probably been reading more words of fanfic in the past month than I did in the past couple of years cumulatively. Yes it's because of the metalgears leave me alone

Currently watching: Mary & George, also Fallout and Shogun but I'm following these two with other people so I'm taking it slower than most of you guys

Currently consuming: as in eating? nothing, it's too early for dinner and to be honest yesterday's night out was kinda wild I better leave my stomach alone (I won't)

Currently craving: that thing most mammals crave in spring

tagging (if you want) @cthaehbutwithafrog, @raiden-brannigan, @sanctaignorantia, @godtier1, anyone who has fun doing this kind of thing

[ere-the-sun-rises]

TL; DR: He bricked the Cybertruck but the F-150 lived

I saw an edit of this video on here earlier and immediately had to go watch it for myself. It's a pretty good video and this guy has enough wild-eyed crazy in him that watching him destroy a vehicle is very entertaining.

The gist of the video is that he pits the Cybertruck against an F-150 in an extreme durability test. Obviously, this is for entertainment mostly and not necessarily a product review, so I felt compelled to add come context to the "flaws" and flaws the vehicles demonstrate.

Disclaimer: I am not a mechanic or an automotive engineer. I do have enough knowledge, however, to add some information to what the video shows. That said, let's go.

Rolling off the flatbed truck without ramps.

The major difference between combustion/"regular" and electric vehicles is not necessarily what fuel they use, but how the engine is composed.

Combustion engines feed fuel into into pistons which allow in a small amount of air in to combine with the ignition flame to begin and maintain the combustion process. These pistons then compress, driving the pressure into the rest of the engine and using the force to create motion. This is why a vehicle, if left in neutral with the brakes off, will drift forward - if the engine is running, combustion is taking place and that forward momentum will be used. These pistons are what mark out a vehicle's V classication - eg. V-4, V-6 and V-8. This V number represents how many of these pistons there are and therefore how much power they can output. V-4s are usually economy cars, mini vans or very small SUVs (think a Ford Fiesta, a Honda Odyssey or a Honda CR-V). V-6s are for more robust cars, SUVs, and light pickup trucks (think a Chrysler 300, a Kia Sorento or a Toyota Tundra). V-8s are the strongest type, and can be put towards speed or hauling, depending on thr design of the vehicle. A Ford Escape, for example, is very fast for an SUV because it is built light and spacious - intended to carry its load inside the body of the vehicle. A Chevrolet Silverado, by comparison, is meant to haul and puts its strength into pulling and torque instead of speed.

Due to the fact that combustion engines have to generate their own energy through the combustion process, these engines are very reliant on "hardware" - ei. physical parts that operate based on physical imput and interaction. The gearbox in your transmission, for example, is made up of actual gears that have to turn and lock into place for the transmission to turn and thus power the axels which spin the wheels.

Electric vehicles have none of this. Since they have no power generation requirement, that space is taken up by batteries and motherboards which fulfil all the roles of various hardware. Why would you need a transmission to turn when the motherboard can command the axels to turn on its own? The trade off is that EVs almost exclusively run on "software" - ei. the onboard computer. This means that their undercarriage has no dangling parts to get snagged or damaged like a CV.

Neither of these things are inherently bad. On one hand, EVs have nothing down there to snag when it rolls off the back of the flatbed. Downside, the high toxic, flammable and delicate batteries are in the undercarriage. Damaged motherboards are also much harder and trickier to replace and repair. CVs have a vulnerable undercarriage, but they're easy parts to replace or can be fixed quickly. Most of the undercarriage of a CV is also not flammable - it's just running hardware and exhaust.

Suspension and ride comfortability.

Suspension refers to the metal coils and hydraulics that take and displace the impact from tires hitting and running over things. Suspension exists on a spectrum from "soft" to "hard", and most vehicles fall somewhere in the middle.

"Soft" suspension is meant for ride comfort - the suspension coil is kept less tense and absorbs more impact, keeping the ride more level and smooth. This is common in luxury cars or brands like Cadillac or Lexus. The downside of this is that it wears your suspension down much faster. They need to be replaced more frequently and it can also be harder on the axels, depending on what you do with it. Speed bumps, if taken unevenly, really fuck soft suspension.

"Hard" suspension is meant for durability - the suspension coil is kept very tense and rigid, displacing the impact more into the body of the vehicle and back into the ground. This makes the ride a lot rockier, but the vehicle itself a lot more stable. Most vehicles with 4 Wheel Drive or offroading capability lean towards hard suspension to preserve the vehicle's integrity and power output.

In the video, the Cybertruck clearly has softer suspension than the hard suspension F-150. This is why the Ford had a rockier ride but the phone didn't go flying when they landed. The Ford is much more resistant to hard impact than the Cybertruck.

Towing and frame construction.

Towing capacity is in part from the horsepower put out by the engine, but also by the integrity of the frame.

Most vehicle's frames are one solid aluminum skeleton, sometimes welded in places but often cast all at once. Trucks, specifically, usually use the "unibody" design with a built-in trailer hitch. This allows the entirety of the frame to carry the weight of the towed object as it would if it were in the bed of the truck. This is what the Ford is doing when it pulls the Cybertruck out of the mud - the entirety of the body is being used to pull.

The Cybertruck's hitch, in contrast, is attached only to the bumpers and not the frame of the vehicle. The bumper was attached to the frame, however, and when it tore off, it caused structural damage to the frame.

Frame damage is critical damage. It destabilizes the entire structure and can actually tear the vehicle apart from within. That metal needs to be reinforced or wholly replaced to be servicable again.

Aluminum vs steel frame.

Most trucks have aluminum frames ans for good reason.

Aluminum has the highest strength to weight ratio second only to titanium, meaning that for how light it is, it is incredibly strong. An F-150 made of aluminum is thousands of pounds lighter than one made of steel and is more durable.

Steel also goes brittle in the cold faster than aluminum, meaning it is more prone to tearing or rending under force when its's cold. (There's a test to determine this called the Charpy Test - go look them up, they're really cool.) Aluminum also rusts slower and less catastrophically than steel. You can see how this would be in issue in the cold or if your vehicle is left outside regularly.

Fibre glass vs steel body.

In the C-4 test, it blew a hole right through the F-150, because obviously. The Cybertruck remained intact, but jammed the door. This is more damning for the Cybertruck than the Ford.

The Ford is designed with safety in mind. The body of the truck is meant to take the impact in the event of a crash instead if the occupants. These manifest as "crumple zones", where the vehicle will let itself be crushed instead of the passengers. Fibre glass is very good at that, so that's what most exterior bodies are made from.

Crucially, they are also intended to be destroyable by first responders. A firefighter responding to a crash can cut through the door of that Ford with a saw pretty easily and extract the occupants. Alternatively, an occupant can force the doors open from the inside too, if necessary.

The Cybertruck is made of sheet steel and therefore much harder to cut through than fibre glass. The impact also jams the door lock, making it impossible to open from the inside. If your truck is on fire after an accident, you better hope the other door still works or you're dying in there. On that note ...

Slamming the doors and breakable windows.

The integrity of the Cybertruck's interior is a joke. What the actual fuck is that. Granted, neither of these vehicles are meant to be slammed like that, but the Ford's doors held together very well in comparison.

That means that even small impacts like slamming the door are being transferred into all the soft, squishy parts of the inside of the Cybertruck whereas the Ford is dispersing it immediately.

He calls out Ford's windows for cracking during this test, but again, that's an intentional design.

You'll notice he was able to grab and wiggle the glass without it breaking apart. That's because the glass is also, like the crumple zones, intended to take an impact on behalf of the occupant. It is designed to crack and spiderweb out BUT NOT shatter. Shattering glass can cause a lot of harm, especially to the eyes and face. Instead, even if it does break apart, it stays in larger chunks.

The Cybertruck, by contrast, does not spiderweb nearly as efficiently as the Ford and does, in fact, shatter in the driver's side window when they're throwing weights at it. It doesn't disperse the impact, it shatters under pressure (despite putting up with a lot of abuse) and it loses integrity in localized spots quite quickly.

If you're in a crash, the Ford's windows won't rupture your eyes with tiny razors.

Pulling strips off the Cybertruck.

This got me. This was the worst part.

When he pulls the strips off the top edge of the body, over the doors, you'll notice that it was glued on.

GLUED.

You do not glue metal together. You weld, rivet or bracket metal to itself (preferably like metal to like metal). Metal is usually not a porous surface, meaning it has nothing for the glue to hold onto. Do you have any idea how dangerous this barely-adhered strip of sheet metal would be if it flew off in a car crash? It's a huge metal boomerang - it's gonna kill someone. Temu-ass materials indeed.

How the fuck do you half-ass something so hard that you start whole-ass fucking it up? Lawnmowers have better structural and safety integrity.

The uh, the Ford doesn't have glued on body parts. If you were wondering.

Drive by wire and bricking.

Drive by wire is a cool invention and I'm sure it's pretty useful. In EVs, it cuts further down on weight and mades the steering more responsive.

In my opinion, though, it's a hazard on its own.

In CVs, the wheels are controlled by your steering column, which is attached to your wheel. The operation of the wheel is aided by hydraulic systems which assist you in the actual effort of turning the wheels. When your engine dies or the steering assistants take a hit, you can still control the vehicle directly (though it is much harder).

Drive by wire without a backup steering column (like the Cybertruck has) means that if the vehicle dies while you're in motion, you have no control over the vehicle at all anymore. You're fucked. God forbid your truck bricks because you drove though a puddle on the highway and you lose control entirely.

On that note too, I am firmly of the belief that none of your driving essentials should be controlled via screen. Physical buttons and shifters allow physical feedback, letting the driver keep their eyes on the road and move by muscle memory and touch alone. Touch screens are hazardous to the driver and those around them by forcing them to look at what they're pressing as opposed to the road. The Cybertruck's control screen being in the centre console also cuts down the driver's capability to use peripheral vision to monitor the traffic around them.

Now, most EVs put out by real companies do have a steering column and manual sticks still in place for these reasons, so it's not an EV problem, it's a Tesla one.

Driving off the lot.

I don't give a shit. Every vehicle you buy should come as advertised and drivable off the lot. You shouldn't have to get an app, set up an account and register your vehicle in order to charge the damn thing.

No one should be able to steal my car by stealing my phone. I draw the line. Fuck off.

So, yeah. The Cybertruck sucks even worse than we already thought it did. If you want an EV, buy it from a company that actually makes vehicles and not a billionaire's vanity toy company.

[elfrootenthusiast]

Take this as permission to ramble about an oc <3

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY CASSIE TIME

every1 look @ her outfits........ if u dont want to read th worlds longest oc lore dump u can go in #party rat, #cassie, or #boss cass and learn literally everything u need 2 know abt her frm context clues

SO THATS CASSIEEE my mgs oc ✨ aka cassandra aka cass aka party rat aka my baby

looong story short she was your classic mgs child soldier with a streak of bad luck until she tried to KILL big boss in the late 1960s. she was one of the first poor bastards he took under his wing and following the dubiously canon events of the san hieronymo incident she became one of the original members of the foxhound unit: solitary shrike.

obviously that code name sucks ASS and honestly so did she; she was moody, rude, violent and didnt work well with others. absolutely no joy or whimsy until she met some british asshole named lance hewitt, codename bengal tiger, and got paired up with him. they proceeded to survive a catastrophic near death mission that changed the trajectories of their lives FOREVER on account of they emerged from it so ride or die for each other that they began matching each others freak to an inadvisable degree.

she changed her name (surprise her given name isnt cassandra. only 3 people in the whole world know what it used to be and im not one of those people) and her code name to reflect the "new her" she wanted to cultivate after facing death, branding herself "party rat." the goal? fill whatever life she had left with as much joy, love & fun as she possibly could. she was going to sing as loud as she wanted, dance as wild as she felt like, and finally stop holding herself back from fully connecting with the people around her. to solidify this, as well as to show her complete and utter over the top devotion to him, she took on lances last name, finally becoming the cassandra hewitt we all know + love

now a member of the MSF cass works as an engineer sergeant, chief mechanic, & generally invents a bunch of highly questionable weapons and machines. she also operates on the field as a demolitions expert for her squad, which grows to include an absolute dickhead named joaquin gutierrez, or mangey jackal. though she tries to embrace her new party spirit and the "peace and love" vibes of the time, he singles out bengal for some intensive one on one training and eventually pushes him to the point of breaking, making cass snap and quite literally bite his ear off. but like. he was fine. and everyone got better. and she taught him how to do the hustle as a peace offering. nothing a little disco cant fix.

back to the Plot: she eventually gets wrapped up in the creation of metal gear zeke, and was one of the weak points exploited by paz that allowed her to hijack it later on. she meets her canonical end during the ground zeroes incident, dying alone in the lower levels after sending her squadmates ahead to buy time. she blowed up </3

in alternate timelines where she survives she loses her left arm and occasionally her leg below the knee as well. as a sole survivor she becomes tangled in a web between big boss, zero, and cipher, creating a PMC of her own in order to pick up the pieces and continue the legacy left to her. she also begins raising the clone sons of her late best friend as her own but THATS neither here nor there <- dont even worry about it if the others survive she manages to slip from the attention of the higher ups and settles on creating a relief network with amanda valenciano libre, an old friend from her time in the msf. no matter what, cass maintains a stubborn belief that unless shes seen the bodies of her friends theyre still alive, which means she cant rest until shes found them. even if it takes Nine Years

ANYWAYS LIKE. tldr: shes like if pinkie pie had a party cannon that killed people for realsies

[heathengentleman]

Loudly through air at night they haste, An uproar on wild black horses! As a storm the wild crowds travel by With nothing but clouds for foothold. Over the valleys, the woods and meadows – Through darkness and weather, they never heed. The traveler throws himself frightened to ground. Listen… what clamor! It’s the forces of Asgard!

Thor, the strong one, his hammer high, Stands tall in his rig, in front of the pack. He strikes his shield and hot red flames Light up the nightly raid at the scene. Horns blow, and an awesome noise From bells and riding gear resounds. Then the pack roars loudly and people listen With rising fear in their quaking homes.

The Wild Hunt of Asgard raids the county Whilst fall and winter at stormy nights. But it favors to travel at Yuletide… They feast with trolls and giants; they closely ride by meadow and path And pass the fearful nation. Then, – take care farmer! Keep all in order! As the wild hunt of Asgard may visit your home!

With the beer working in your lodge Awaking the heathen Yule-tradition… And fire from the fireplace shines on swinging knives and crazy eyes, Then a sudden shiver goes through the party, Then sound the nightly black riders’ clamor… Then the walls crack and the glasses dance; the Armies of Asgard surround the building!

There was a wedding at Oevre Flage Three holy Yule-days to the end. Among the maids there were none like the bride And no rival to the groom among men. There was a glow to the shining hall from set tables and expensive metal, There was a treasure, the rumor says, Of copper on walls and silver on tables.

And merrily sounded the drums and fiddles as the groom was steadily dancing leading his bride among young men and women – Then the Halling-dance easily rumbled! To the Dancer’s forceful moves and jumps the Maiden would swing like a pendulum, Then floated the noise and the music together And the hall would thunder from vigor and delight.

The third night, -when the beer was consumed through all the holidays – by old and young, Then thirst in the party was stopped, But the men were drunken and slow. Our bride wore her crown… It was time for the bowl to be sent round the table And the toastmaster demanded silence with a knock on the table, – and started his speech.

Then charging in on the benched circle the widely infamous Seim’s Berserks, Their eyes were rolling dark and wild On their foreheads they had scars from fighting. They leaped over the floor of the hall, -Yes! It was the brothers Grim and Wolf! Grim, who was recently turned down by the bride Came there himself, – and he was not invited.

The sleepy guests got up shaking And had little desire for fighting. Every raving man who raised his fist Was grabbed by the chest and thrown aside. The groom placed his mug down on the table Stepped up on the bench and asked for peace. But the brothers already took out their knives, – It was the groom’s life it was all about.

Then women gathered into a crowd and formed a guard for the man in danger; sheltered behind tables and benches, They stood closed in at the Bench of Honor. The eldest woman in their circle removed her headwear, revealed her gray hair and gave the groom the name of her son, Embraced him and sat him on her knee.

But the brothers wouldn’t listen to women’s plea – Attacked forward over tables and benches and divided the women with wildness- Now every thought of peace was forgotten… They grabbed their victim and dragged him along To the door of the hall and out through it. It came to a cruel fight in the yard, And the guests followed in wild disorder.

They rushed out there with candles and torches, ‘Cause over the landscape the darkness reigned. They saw the groom standing tall and strong, As now he was strengthened by winter air. He used his knife for cutting and slashing – So he gave back what they offered him. The three of them formed an ugly triangle, And none would let go of the others.

Then, -all of a sudden Grim fell over! With blood running like streams from his chest. Then even harder the other two wrestled And held each other’s backs in a grip. In the end the groom was laid to the ground, With the knife on it’s way to his throat… But then Wolf held back and stood like a drunk, And trembled and shook like a leaf.

As through the air in the dark came a thunder, – a howling horde on ferocious horses, It raced over woods to the wedding house, Intended to visit the bloody performance. Then horns blew, and an awesome noise From bells and riding-gear resounded. Now it was close – it came over the hill – There was an outcry: The wild hunt of Asgard!

There was a tempest in Heaven and Earth, That hurled a horror in every heart, It blasted along in growing circles, It punched with wings and grabbed with arms. Then Wolf was dragged away by his hair, thrown up in the air and taken away, Yes, taken away over woods and mountains, He was never seen or heard of again.

When tumults were over at the horror scene, lay Grim from his death pains coiled up, But the groom was escorted inside from the snow And placed on a bunk in the guestroom. His head was shaking, his blood was pouring; he was pending a while between life and death, But he was nursed and well taken care of, so by spring he had healed from it all.

Now he sits there, – aged and well respected, He can gather his offspring around the fire, now he often tells stories in the circle And shortens time for the young and the old. It was like that last Yule-night too, When the youth shouted, “Tell us, tell us!” His eyes in flames as he was looking back… And then he recalled his wedding days.

Text: Johan Sebastian Welhaven (1807-1873), Translated from Norwegian by Liv Wenger

Image: Åsgårdsreien (The Ride of Asgard) by Peter Nicolai Arbo