#Micro Cabin

[satoshi-mochida]

Xak II(PC-88 version) released digitally for the Switch on November 7th. Mostly Japanese text only.

[afro-bot]

Dragon Half (1993) by Micro Cabin.

[obscurevideogames]

(Micro Cabin - GBC)

Magical Chase GB (2000)

[smbhax]

Final Fantasy (MSX)

-- https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL0CAA9FE7A2C6D20F

[microclown]

I miss when I could listen to an episode of TMA and not be completely emotionally eviscerated afterwards

[redrabbitkreations]

[randomisedgaming]

Advert for: ソウルゲッター 放課後冒険RPG Soul Getter After School Adventure RPG

マジカルチェイスGB 〜見習い魔法使い 賢者の谷へ〜 Magical Chase GB: Minarai Mahoutsukai Kenja no Tani e (Magical Chase GB ~Apprentice Witch to the Valley of the Sage~) Developed by Micro Cabin

From: Soul Getter: Houkago Bouken RPG & Magical Chase

[stewykablooey]

do u guys think succession wouldve been more fucked up if the roys were old money

[beyourselfchulanmaria]

Italian architects Massimo Gnocchi and Paolo Danesi designed Mountain Refuge as a prefabricated cabin-style micro-home built from plywood.

Carpineto Mountain Refuge by Paolo Danesi Architect

Get Inspired, visit www.myhouseidea.com

[naamayehuda]

Uncle Ronnie's Cabin

  Mama said it would be “an adventure.” Lizette knew this meant no argument. No whining. Mama needed “Mama Time”.  “Just the weekend,” Mama said. Lizette knew this meant at least a week. Till Mama grew tired of her new Beau. Or the Beau grew tired of Mama. Did Uncle Ronnie know Mama’s language? Will he care? It was dark when they arrived. Light flickered in the cabin’s window. Mama let her out.…

[propheticpotato42]

Something I noticed when reading Vol.9 of Spy X Family was this vehicle that I recognized because I love it:

The car that the Forgers are in here seems to be based on a Messerschmitt Kabinenroller(a Messerschmitt Cabin Scooter)! Wikipedia calls it a micro car but Cabin Scooter really is more accurate as it is just an enclosed motorcycle. The car was manufactured from 1953 to 1964 by the Messerschmitt company in Germany. The car was a massive hit in post war Germany and is an iconic part of the era. My grandfather owned one in the 50s and said that he often overtook over cars including Porsches, this is not that surprising given that Messerschmitt was actually an aerospace manufactured that designed the Kabinenroller after WWII due to not being allowed to manufacture aircraft(fair honestly) so engineers used their expertise for lighter frames and fast engines to build this.

It’s probably my favorite motor vehicle-only partly cause of the potential ease of parking-and I was happy to see it featured. This is just another aesthetic reference that SxF makes to 1950s/1960s Germany.

[aruanimess]

I'd like to know what ur Mikahisu headcanons are

So, uhh, this started out as headcanons and ended up being a micro fic. Sorry about that...

~~~

Their love story begins soon after the Rumbling.

After the final battle, Mikasa is broken. She has lost Eren, she has lost her purpose in life and she left all her friends behind to mark her own path forward. She’s a mess. She meanders from one place to the next, trying to find a way back to Paradis to return Eren’s remains to his final resting place. 

Historia isn’t doing any better. She’s suffering from postpartum depression while dealing with the uprising of the Yeagerists and the unstable political situation Eren’s departure has caused. She has come to question almost every decision she’s made in her life, and most tragically she regrets the birth of her own daughter. After all, she chose to have her to avoid inheriting the Beast and that led to immeasurable devastation and destruction, so how could it have been a sound decision? What’s more, she’s half a child herself and she’s expected to raise another, while her role as a queen is more vital than ever. She’s worried that she’ll end up acting like her own mother, cold and distant and indifferent to her child, so she overcompensates by never letting her daughter out of sight and accepting no help, despite hating herself for bringing her into this world because of a failed and misguided political agenda.  

So when Historia first hears about Mikasa arriving at the island, she sends word for her immediately. “Come to me,” she writes, “I’m desperate for a friendly face.” 

But Mikasa doesn’t come. 

How could she? She has no help to offer, no friendship to extend. She betrayed her oldest friend, and abandoned Armin and the rest in the middle of the desert. No, she’s not strong anymore, she wonders if she ever was… 

She returns to her family’s cabin, which is miraculously unscathed by the Rumbling. She takes it as a sign that this is indeed the right place to be, where everything started. The blood has long dried off the floors and fungi has grown all over the walls and furniture. 

Her new project begins. 

She dusts the place, sands the wood and polishes it, replaces broken windows, shoos away the spiders and mice that have found shelter there, gets new furniture from nearby villages, and generally makes a home for herself. Meanwhile, she fishes in the stream for her own food, staring idly at the wind rustling the grass; she gathers firewood and forages in the forest, the scent of old tree and moist earth in her nostrils; she buys wool from a local shepherd and weaves herself a shaggy rug to dig her toes in on a cold winter.

Without her leave, she heals. 

One crisp morning, on the verge of autumn, she’s peeling an apple in her garden. As she bites into the juicy flesh, she recalls the night after Historia’s coronation—rosy lips wet from cider, delirious laugh, kind blue eyes. Suddenly, she doesn’t remember why she kept her distance. 

She picks up parchment and ink, and composes what she hopes is a heartfelt letter to Historia, explaining where she’s been this whole time and why she hasn’t replied for so long. At the end of the letter, right at the bottom, there’s a hesitant invitation for Historia and her daughter at her place. “But no guards, if you can help it,” she adds. “I have no taste for soldiers, and I can keep you safe enough.”

She seals the letter and sends it on its way, expecting nothing to come of it. 

She’s wrong. 

A fortnight later, Historia appears at her doorstep, cradling a pink, squealing bundle in her arms. “I came as fast as I could,” she says. “I made arrangements. No one knows I’m here.” There are dark circles under her eyes, but her face is flushed with joy. Something tells Mikasa that this is the first time Historia has smiled in a while. 

She ushers the queen inside and settles her in the guest bedroom—Mikasa’s own childhood room. Historia sleeps soundly for the night, cuddling close to her baby, almost like she’s afraid she might lose her. 

For breakfast, Mikasa serves mint tea and butter biscuits she baked herself. Historia eats it all as if it was the rarest delicacy. 

After she’s done, she sighs. “I’m tired, Mikasa. Everything on this island is either ruined or run by Yeagerists. They’ve shut me out. I’ve lost public support. There’s nothing for me to do, but to quit.”

Mikasa is left speechless. Even at her darkest moments, Historia always had the willpower to go on. She never imagined she’d see her so defeated. Not knowing what else to say, she squeezes her hand. Her delicate knuckles are covered with calluses. “Take your time,” she says. And then to change the subject: “What’s her name?” She gestures to the little girl playing on the carpeted floor. 

Historia smiles with some effort. “Maria,” she answers. “For the Survey Corps’ victory.” She pauses and takes a sharp breath. “For our victory.”

Mikasa smiles back. It doesn’t reach her eyes. 

The months pass and with them winter. Historia learns how to make wine and bake apples. She spends her evenings lying on the sofa with her feet bare, resting beneath her, and her sewing project on her lap. She reads books and picks up folk songs and sings them to Maria as lullabies, even though Mikasa insists some of them are too dark for little ears. 

For her part, Mikasa knits tiny hats for the baby and a red shawl for Historia. She gets acquainted with the local doctor, despite the lump that forms in her throat when she thinks about Dr Yeager, just in case Maria catches the flu. She carries the baby in a wrap fastened around her torso and she talks to her while she cleans the cabin. She learns that Historia loves roasted chestnuts and she makes them as often as possible just to see her smile. 

(She promises herself to plant a chestnut tree come spring, and then pauses in shock as she realizes she’s making long term plans that might never come to be.)

Little Maria takes her first step in the cabin, her small chubby feet buried in the shaggy carpet Mikasa made. She learns to sleep through the night and eat solid foods. She says her first word, which is of course ‘mama.’ Only, confusingly, a few weeks later, her mutterings of ‘mama’ get interrupted by a jumbled ‘mi-a’ here and there.

It takes Historia a day to realize she’s trying to say ‘Mikasa.’ It takes Mikasa a little longer. 

Mikasa and Historia share a bed. At first, Mikasa offers to sleep on the sofa, while Historia takes the bed, but after a few days Historia argues that there’s no point in her back developing knots, and that there’s enough space for both of them. It makes sense, in a completely practical way. It’s just for comfort and warmth. And if Mikasa wakes up sometimes with Historia’s arms wrapped around her frame and an insistent desire building in her core, that’s for her to deal with. 

They share clothes as well, and on occasion they bathe with the door open, just in case someone needs the bathroom while it’s occupied. 

Little by little, their feelings shift. 

There are lingering glances and secret smiles and touches that last a moment too long. There are fluttering heartbeats and shy handholding and warmth rising up on cheeks as they speak with each other. Mikasa almost has a fit when Historia cuts her hand while cooking. Historia throws a blanket on Mikasa when she finds her passed out on the couch. They both fuss over each other almost as much as they fuss over Maria. 

Their first kiss comes with the first stirrings of spring. 

The snows have mellowed out around the cabin and the almond tree at the edge of the grove has sprouted its first blossoms. A robin is chirping away at the young rays of dawn. Historia is sitting on the porch, clutching a steaming mug of mint tea in a gloved hand, just like the one she drank on her first morning here. Unlike that first morning, however, her smile is effortless, wide, content. She breathes in the morning breeze and lets her lungs fill with the icy chill. 

Mikasa emerges from the cabin. A warm gust of air escapes from the hearth burning away inside. She drapes the red shawl around Historia’s shoulders. It looks good on her. Soft. She tries not to think of her choice of color, of how she came to associate red with love and affection, and what that choice might mean for her. “It’s still cold out,” she chastices. “Don’t let the robins fool you.”

Historia hands her the mug. It’s a little crooked as she molded it herself from clay, but it does its job and it’s a testament of her ability to create something useful.

Mikasa takes a sip. She tastes mint, honey and Historia. She sighs.

“I know,” says Historia as she watches Mikasa intently. “I wanted to enjoy this for as long as I can.”

Mikasa looks around the semi-frozen grove. “Winter will come again,” she dismisses. “No need to freeze to death.”

Historia smiles sadly. “Yes, but I will not be here next winter.” She laughs at Mikasa’s uncomprehending stare. “Come spring, I’ll leave,” she explains. “It’s high time I assume again my duties to my people, now that I’m able to. There’s much work to be done. I left them helpless long enough as it is.”

There are no words in Mikasa’s mind, only bitter disappointment. “Oh.”

Historia grabs her hand. “Come with me.”

A blink. “Historia… I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I have no place there…”

“You can come live at the orphanage or at my place. Or I can give you an estate of your own if that’s what you prefer.”

“That’s not what I meant. I have no taste for politics. People will question me, if I show up. The way I left…”

“I’ll protect you!”

“Historia, please… I can’t.”

And Historia knows a rejection when she hears it. She lowers her eyes and wraps the shawl tighter around her body. “All right, if that’s what you want.”

Mikasa’s heart is breaking. She aches like she’s losing a limb seeing Historia so unhappy—Historia, who is about to leave her and take sweet Maria with her. Yet, she can’t return to that place, full to the brim with schemes and machinations and memories of her past. 

But Historia’s eyes are so sad, so dull and disappointed. It feels like history is repeating itself; like she’s back on that dark hill, glimmering lights flickering from the tents below, the wind in her hair, and her love is leaving. 

She opens her mouth. “Historia…” the words die on her lips. Historia looks at her, expectant. “Historia, you…” she stops again, and swallows around her nerves. “Historia... you’re family,” she finishes lamely. 

Before she has any time to curse herself for her foolishness, Historia is upon her. She grabs her by the lapels of her robe, brings her close and smashes their lips together, painfully, violently. 

When they break apart, Historia is beaming. “I’ll come to you then,” she says. “Like I did before. You’ll see! I’ll take Maria and sneak out of the palace and visit you as often as I’m allowed.” Her chest is heaving as she speaks. “And when I deal with those morons who think they can run my country, I’ll appoint a new government and retire here. With you. What do you think?”

Mikasa smiles. It’s a lovely thought. A peaceful life, here, in nature, with Maria and Historia by her side. It sounds like an impossible dream, but damn her if she doesn’t want to believe in it, body, mind and soul. “It sounds perfect,” she says. 

Historia nods, eyes shining with tears and hope. She rises to her tiptoes and kisses Mikasa, deep and long. 

Mikasa tastes mint, honey and Historia.

[suki2links]

Wow! I ❤️ lovely babes sexy and cute outfits and high heels and shiny black stockings.👀😍👀😍👀😍💋💋💋💋

[superfamiblog]

Xak: The Art of Visual Stage (Sunsoft/Micro Cabin, 1993)

[restinslices]

Hi I I aorry if this is a bad request but do you think you could write something with Annabeth where you're her Athena sister?

I wrote general headcanons since there wasn’t a specific prompt. If you want smth in particular or smth expounded on, feel free to ask!

I’m gonna mix in book lore and tv show lore

Remember I don’t have perfect memory though so be easy on me

Anywho-

Being Annabeth’s older and accomplished sister means she admires you but is also jealous 

I don’t think the jealousy leads to her trying to sabotage you or anything but I think it’s obvious to spot 

You have a special eye that she wishes she had 

Annabeth is great at architecture and noticing small details, but nothing slips past you 

If she notice small details, you notice micro details 

If she’s great at architecture, you’re perfect at it

If she’s a great captain, you’re a perfect captain 

You let her run the team to be nice. Apart of her hates it but the other is appreciative 

I think she’d appreciate it more if you gave suggestions and helped in places where she lacked 

I think that hubris thing would slip in and she wouldn’t wanna accept the help but then she’d realize you have points and she’d give in 

I think having Annabeth as a younger sister means watching how her and Percy’s relationship grow 

You’re the first to be like “so, Percy? When are you two getting together?”

She denies it, very loudly may I add 

“What?! Me and Seaweed Brain?! HA! US? TOGETHER? NEVER!” “…” “…” “Seaweed Brain and I. Guess you can’t think while you’re crushing”

It aggravates her that you seem to know everything before it happens 

You two have the most realistic sibling relationship in your cabin 

Sometimes other campers try to watch Annabeth’s temper 

Not you 

You two poke at each other, you stress each other out, you make each other laugh, you give her advice, you comfort each other, you challenge each other, you do it all

After Luke’s betrayal Annabeth is pretty sensitive so you try to be there for her and fill in the empty roll Luke left 

You’re working double time

Considering you’re her older sister, you also help when it comes to training 

I don’t mean in groups, I also mean one on one 

But naturally, that also means you’re very hard on her 

It’s for her benefit. She’ll understand that one day if she hasn’t already. It’s to make her the best warrior possible 

Being Annabeth’s sister means giving her womanly advice also 

Athena ain’t there and Chiron is not teaching any of that shit. Let’s be fr 

That’s what also adds to your bond 

It’s not like you’re only family when you’re at camp 

You’re family and still help each other even when you’re out of camp

And you don’t just talk about camp and monsters 

You talk about other shit in the world 

Yeah, don’t die by monsters but you know what else will fuck you over? Not doing your taxes.

I feel like I also have to address when Annabeth was taken 

You obviously wanna be apart of the team that goes to get her, and tbh if Percy wasn’t the main character and had to be the 5th person, you’d go 

Whenever she returns, you’d check in to make sure she’s alright and try to keep her spirits high after seeing Luke

Off topic but dare I say y’all build Lego shit together?

I just feel like if you can’t build actual buildings, use Legos

Since the two of you train a lot, especially one on one, y’all balance each other really well 

Take the two major battles for example. The one at camp in BOTL and the final showdown with Kronos in TLO

Anyone going against the both of you would get hit repeatedly 

And I don’t mean only one of y’all are swinging, I mean both of you are playing off of each other 

The modern youth would call this “jumping”-

That doesn’t sound as beautiful though 

If she’s throwing a left, you’re on the right 

If she jumps to hit the enemy high, you’re sliding to hit the enemy low

If she’s grabbing someone, you’re delivering the final blow via stabbing 

You spend so much time together, your minds are practically linked  

When one of you is injured in battle, the other will make sure to aid them, even if neither of you are nurses 

After TLO, Annabeth is told she can rebuild Olympus in her image 

Guess who she’s asking for help?

You of course 

When you eventually leave camp to do your own thing as an adult, it’s very bittersweet

Bitter because you’ll miss each other and won’t be able to talk to each other late at night 

Sweet because you’re both in good standing with each other, Iris messages, and you both know you’ll do great things on your own journey 

When she needs help though, she’ll call you

And you’ll always answer 

Because you’ll always be family 

You promised 

That ending was corny asf. I’m sorry.

I’ve only read the PJO series so far. I’ve been procrastinating on the others, so I only mentioned those books. And if her personality ain’t 100% accurate, my bad.

[warcraftedtardis]

Fuck it, more space orc stuff?

Had this thought while driving in to work this morning; someone else has probably posted smth like it too, but I just gotta get it out of my head. Let’s talk about acceleration.

Our bodies are really good at adapting to G-force so long as it’s consistent. So accelerating and decelerating feels like ✨something✨ but if you maintain speed it stops feeling like much of anything so long as it’s within the range of force your muscles can compensate for. Like car speeds.

If you’re cruising down the highway at 70+ then dropping to 40 is really significant. It feels so much slower than it actually is bcs your used to higher speeds. Planes are another good example. Once you’ve gotten into the air and maintain speed it doesn’t really feel like anything until you stand up tp walk around, and then bcs everything in the cabin with you is also moving at the same speed, you barely feel it. And all of this is an environment with friction in the atmosphere. Out minds are scary good at micro adjusting to velocity. Just look at racers and fighter pilots.

Our bodies are better at adjusting than our minds—a lot of decisions that happen at ludicrous speeds are all reflexes too—basically autopilot. It’s facilitating. We can already see in our own population people who are better at autopilot and people that generally cannot access that, so clearly this is a skill that can be taught. Humans can learn high speed precision reaction through just Doing the Thing over and over again.