#Tripper systems

[nebuloracle]

Avatars of the Legendary Planets

Yu-Gi-Oh! artwork © Konami.

[yoongiseesawmp3]

too sweet - san

summary: model!san x designer!reader. it's love at first sight when you see san. he's perfect...for your runway show! he's the top model right now, and everyone wants him. you want him a little more, but we'll unpack that later. can you get the it boy into your collection?

word count: 8.6k

warnings: afab reader

masterlist

"how many more?" you whine, collapsing onto the table in front of you. your dramatics shuffle all of the model cards out of order after you spent the last hour organizing them. your system is ruined, so your mood goes too. the only thing to pull you back to reality is jen, your right hand man. she pulls you up, encouraging words on her lips, and gets to reordering the cards you just messed up.

"we only have a few more," she reminds you. "and the last few have been good! i think we'll have plenty of options for your show."

"yeah, the girls have been great," you agree. "but the guys are all meh. i thought i was being all forward thinking doing a coed collection but now i wish i hadn't."

"oh come on," jen nudges you. "these guys were hot!"

"they're pretty, but this guy tripped, this one didn't bring a portfolio, and this one has conflicts from now until the show," you list off. "i need at least two more, or i'll have to cut the men's pieces."

"we'll find one," jen ruffles your hair. "you want me to go bring in the next model?"

"nah, we've got a few more minutes on our break," you tell her. "i'm gonna go get a coffee, do you need anything?"

"a water is fine," she replies as you slip out the door. you try to avoid the waiting area so you won't run into any potential models. you make it to the coffee machine down the hall, and of course it's just your luck that there's a tall skinny man already there.

"y/n?" he smiles. "i didn't know this was your show!"

"seonghwa?" you smile back. "i swear, you get taller every time i see you."

"what can i say? i eat my wheaties," he jokes, pulling you in for a polite hug. "how long have you had this gig?"

"few months," you reply. "i've been shitting bricks the whole time."

"i'm sure," he nods. "but you're doing a great job. i've never seen this many top models in the same place for years. everyone wants to walk for you."

"well that's very flattering," you mumble. "but you'd think 'top models' would come more prepared. half of these bozos have not impressed me."

"she's talented and determined," seonghwa notes. "guess i gotta bring my a game."

"i guess you do," you tease him. "hey, you don't know anyone who could come audition before the end of the day, do you? i need more guys."

"i could make a few calls," he thinks. "what do you have in mind?"

"is it too vain to say someone sexy?" you laugh. "we're looking for someone intimidating, good walk, strong features. it's a dramatic piece so i want someone unique."

"i might know a guy," seonghwa nods.

"anyone i'd know?"

"i guess you'll know when you see him," he replies. "i gotta go, i think i'm next, so-"

"right, right, go make yourself pretty," you tell him. "it was so good to see you!"

"you too," he smiles at you genuinely. "proud of you."

"hey, no shmoozing before your audition."

-

seonghwa got a place in your show, obviously. now you only need one more guy. jen convinced you the tripper could work with some help, and there was another model from earlier in the day that you think deserves a call. you still need someone for your final piece, though, and you're running out of hope.

"so how do you know seonghwa again?" jen asks as you wait for the last model to show. "and how well do you know him? and how well would he like to know me?"

"we worked together a few years ago," you laugh. "he was one of the models in my first show."

"so you gave him his big break? he's indebted to you?" jen asks. "he has to make it up to you by, i don't know, going on a date with your best friend and best stylist?"

"we'll see," you frown. "you know i don't like messing with models."

"i hate that rule," jen mumbles as she sits back in her seat. "where's this last model? i wanna go home."

"seonghwa said he pulled a favor getting him here," you explain as you check your phone. "so he might be running behind. i can wait for him if you wanna go."

"no, if he's anything like seonghwa i want to be here to ogle him."

at that, there's a knock at the door, and you call out for them to come in. who steps through the door is maybe the most beautiful man you've ever seen. he's striking, strong, and smiling shyly like he's not used to having eyes on him despite his profession.

"hi, i hope i'm not too late?" he asks, standing by the door.

"no," you quickly reply. "not at all, come in. you're seonghwa's friend?"

"yep," he confirms, walking up to hand you the most professional looking portfolio you've seen all day. and this guy wasn't even expecting to walk! no way you're hiring those other losers now. "i'm san."

"san, hi," you smile at him, and jen stifles a laugh next to you. somebody's smitten, she thinks, but she won't say anything just yet. "i'm y/n, i'm the designer, and this is jen, my stylist."

"nice to meet you," jen presents her hand, and san tentatively shakes it. "firm handshake, i like it. you have soft hands."

"thanks?" he laughs nervously. "um, so do i just-"

"yes, yes," you motion for him to head to the back of the room. "whenever you're ready."

as if you weren't already convinced this was the guy for you (i mean, for your show) then his walk sold it. his presence is so commanding, his movements so precise, and you've never seen someone with such perfect posture. it makes you sit up straighter as he walks toward you, and you almost swoon when he winks at you before turning around. you squeeze jen's hand under the table, and when san finishes his walk you fight the urge to applaud.

"that was great!" jen comments once san is finished. "y/n, what did you think?"

"you're perfect," you breathe out, and jen nudging you brings you back to earth. "uh, for the collection."

"thanks," san smiles proudly. "hopefully i'll hear from you soon."

"hopefully you will," you smile back. "thanks for coming on such short notice."

"it was my pleasure," san says, waving as he ducks out into the hall. as soon as the door is shut, you turn to jen and say, "i love him."

"i know you do," she laughs. "so is he in the show?"

"in the show?" you scoff. "he is the show. he's exactly what i was imagining. i want ten more of him."

"i'm sure you'd like that," she says with a waggle of her eyebrows.

"stop," you roll your eyes. "i just said i don't mess with models."

"mhm," jen nods. "so who else are we casting? we have one spot for sure..."

-

san and seonghwa were cast immediately. well, maybe not immediately. you both looked through their portfolios, ooh'ing and aah'ing over their looks before deciding they had to be in the show. when you and jen decided on the next two male models quickly, you figured this would be an easy discussion. wrong! you have four female models you're willing to fight tooth and nail for, and jen has her own four that she's just as committed to. you've been deliberating for a while now, so you decide to take a break. you head to that same break room you met seonghwa in earlier, and you thought briefly about taking san's portfolio with you. for research purposes, obviously, but you decided against it.

as soon as you step into the hallway, you hear faint sounds of music. not unusual for this studio space, but still, you proceed with caution. you don't want to interrupt anybody, so you walk quietly until you find the the source of the sound. it's san! and he's...dancing?

"oh god, sorry," he bumbles as soon as he sees you. he rushes to his phone, propped against the window in front of him. "god. that's embarrassing."

"what were you doing?" you smile at him.

"embarrassing myself," he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. he wiggles his phone in the air and explains, "my agent wants me to post more, says it'll help me get booked, and he sent me a couple tiktok trends he wants me to do. so i was.."

"dancin' your heart out?" you tease, and he blushes.

"you could say that," he smiles shyly, again making it seem like he's not used to having attention on him. does he know he's a model?

"wait, how long have you been out here?" you ask, worried he might have heard you and jen (mostly you) gawking over his portfolio.

"just a few minutes," he shrugs. "part of why i was able to come walk for you is because of another audition i had on the other side of this building. so i was over there for a while, and came back here to humiliate myself in front of my favorite designer, it seems."

"your favorite, huh?" you ask. "good thing we've cast my show already, otherwise i'd think you're sucking up."

"damn, so i'm too late?" san laughs.

"who else is auditioning models here?" you change the subject.

"kim hongjoong?" san says it like a question, and you nod in recognition.

"he's good," you hum. "i hope you don't get it though."

"what?" san balks. "why?"

"because i want you in my show," you shrug. "and i don't wanna fight hongjoong for you, even though i know i'd win."

"you sure about that?" san asks. "he's been working out, i hear."

"oh i could so take him," you assure san. "i'm a biter." you notice a flicker in san's eyes, a hint of something, but you feel yourself blushing and cough so you have an excuse to cover your face. "excuse me. i should probably go, we've got a few more models to cast.."

"wait, so you just drop the bomb that i'm in your show and then you're gone?" san asks, following you down the hall. "how do i know you're serious?"

"because you have my word," you furrow your eyebrows. "but if you really need the confirmation, i'm sure my people will call your people soon." as if on cue, san's phone starts buzzing, still perched on the window. san looks to it, then you. you feel vindicated as you turn and walk on to the break room with a flick of your hair over your shoulder, leaving a stunned model and the smell of peaches in your wake.

-

all the models have been cast, and it's the morning of your first fitting. you slept in your studio last night because you had so much work to do. it was mostly tiny alterations to ensure the pieces fit their new models, but you also spent half the night cleaning. you don't let people into your studio usually, or if you do, it's people that know you well enough to know you and your work are a mess. but today, you're the boss. you need to look put together, and so does your studio.

you're standing by the door, taking everything in, and decide that this is as clean as you'll get it. there's still fabric, zippers, stray threads strewn all over your work tables, but you're a designer. that's normal. if the models have complaints they can deal. being next to the door, you hear something in the hall, but write it off as one of your artistic neighbors at work. you start to walk away, toward your coffee station in the back, when the doorknob to your studio jiggles. you hear a quiet "shit" and then a polite knock, so you walk over cautiously. one look through the peephole reveals who it is.

"san?" you ask, opening the door. "what are you doing here?"

"realizing i am," he checks his ridiculously expensive watch, "an hour early for my fitting. sorry." he adds a sheepish smile at the end and you fight the urge to coo. he looks like he just woke up, and that he definitely rushed here. his clothes are mussed, hair in a beanie to hide it not being done, eyes puffy with sleep. still, he looks perfect.

"was the email confusing?" you ask. "i was worried that-"

"no," he shakes his head. "no, i was just, um, i'm really excited," he explains shyly. "i almost couldn't sleep last night, so when i woke up this morning i thought i had overslept. i should've checked."

"no worries," you say as you blush. he was excited? for a fitting? man must love his job. "here, come in. i just finished cleaning, so you get first dibs on space. there's a couch in the back if you want to nap before we get started."

"how long have you been here?" san asks, looking around at the studio. he sees a lot of chaos, but it's beautiful chaos. colors that compliment each other perfectly, strange techniques that have made something stunning. he can't believe he'll be part of this show.

"uh, since last night," you admit, finally reaching your coffee machine. "i had a lot to do."

"you slept here?" san frowns, tossing his stuff onto a table before joining you. he leans against the wall as he watches you.

"yeah," you shrug. "i hate waking up early, so it saved me from getting here grumpy if anything."

"but did you rest?" he asks, looking out at the studio. "this is a big space for one person to clean."

"jen helped," you tell him. "she was here last night to bring over the shoes for each outfit."

"which one is mine?" san asks with an eager smile.

"wouldn't you like to know?" you stick your tongue out at him for good measure. "yours isn't out here. it's so big i had to keep it in my office, i couldn't move it out here by myself."

"it's big?" he looks a little scared.

"that may not be the right word," you think. "it's heavy, so that's why i needed someone strong to wear it."

"you think i'm strong?" san smirks, and you blush. "how'd you know?"

your mind thinks to his portfolio still sitting on your desk, full to the brim of him in scantily clad photoshoots. you've seen pictures of his chest, his abs, his arms. muscles that had to take hours in the gym to sculpt. you wonder shyly if his portfolio is still on your desk, open to a picture of him in a pink outfit with a hint of his chest on display. you'll have to cover it quickly if it is.

"i asked seonghwa how you two met, and he said you go to the same snooty model gym," you explain, which is the truth. seonghwa had been in a couple shows with san before they became friends, but it took the two of them working out together to actually become buddies. they've been looking out for each other ever since, seonghwa told you. san seems to think your explanation was enough, so he hums and nods before turning his attention back to your collection.

"so how did you and seonghwa meet?" he asks casually. you tell him about your first show, as an independent designer no less, and how seonghwa found you stress crying backstage. as you always do when describing seonghwa, you stress how your relationship was friendly, but nothing more. you never want anyone to think you're fooling around with one of your models. but san finds himself thinking, hm, that means seonghwa isn't his competition.

"do you want anything to drink?" your voice pulling san from his thoughts. he looks at you, cupping a warm mug of coffee, and smiles.

"no, thank you," he says. "i try not to have anything before a fitting, i never want to mess up the sizing and put more work on the designer."

"san that doesn't sound healthy," you frown. "and what kind of designer is sticking you in clothes so skin tight you can't have a glass of water? i need names."

"it's a lot of them, i'm afraid," he laughs. "most people cast me expecting to show off my abs, or something else, so i don't have much space to mess up during show season."

"yeah, you are always showing some kind of skin," you think about it.

"you been studying me?" san teases, and you blush.

"i'm a designer, it's my job," you mumble. "i reviewed everyone's portfolio thoroughly."

"what was seonghwa's last shoot then?" san quizzes you. you make a guess, but you get it wrong. "and what was mine?"

"vogue, right?" you answer immediately, and san responds with a shit eating grin.

"i'm so telling hwa i'm your favorite model now," he says, resting against the wall again as he folds his arms over his chest. his very muscled arms, and his broad-

"knock knock!" jen shouts from the door. she steps inside and asks, "you know you didn't lock this- oh hey san."

"good morning," he nods to her. "nice to see you again."

"nice to see you too, so bright and early," jen says as she looks at you. "how long have we been here?"

"me since last night, san since a few minutes ago. he didn't read the email."

"i read the email!" he whines. "i was just excited!"

"that's sweet," jen coos as she dumps bags onto one of your worktables. "i hope i'm not interrupting anything?"

"jen, do you have a favorite model?" san asks, and she thinks for a moment.

"no, i don't," she shakes her head. "there's too many good ones, so it depends on the day. why do you ask?"

"i just found out i'm y/n's favorite," san explains with a smile.

"you just found out?" jen laughs, and you groan. san looks like he's gonna say something else but you speak before he can.

"hey, since y'all are both here, come help me move this table," you command. "we need space for the models to walk." they do as you say, but share a knowing look while you're distracted. it's a bad thing to have your best friend and your crush in cahoots, but you'll figure that out later.

-

since san was here early, you got to work on his fitting first. jen finished setting up the workroom while you and san went to your office. jen made a show of putting headphones in to listen to music, and you wanted to pinch her so hard. she's making it obvious that you have a thing for san, and you're hoping beyond hope he doesn't notice.

"oh my god," he whispers when you open the door to your office, revealing the piece you've dedicated the past few months to. "that's incredible."

"you like it?" you turn to him, unsure. "it's a lot, i know."

"i love it," he smiles from ear to ear. "i've never worn something like this before."

"i hope no one has," you laugh nervously. "i tried a technique to emulate fur, so i'm hoping this is a super cool fashion innovation that'll take the industry by storm."

"how'd you do it?" san asks, looking at the piece in awe. "and how long did it take?"

"so, i shredded pounds and pounds of natural fabric until it looked so fine it could be a better alternative to faux fur," you explain. "and it took me about...four months?" san whistles lowly, his hands twitching at his sides. "you can touch it if you want."

"i want to put it on," he turns to you excitedly. "how do you want me to wear it?"

"don't hate me," you beg. "since this is such a big piece, and i want it to draw attention, i don't have a shirt for you."

"that's ok," san nods. "adds to the natural element."

"exactly," you smile, blushing anyway. "and there's just white pants underneath, for contrast. they should be super comfy, to make up for the workout you'll get walking around in the jacket."

"i can't wait," san says happily. he turns to you fully, looking between the outfit and you. "do you want me to strip, or...?"

"oh god, let me turn around," you say. "the pants are on the desk. let me know when you have them on."

"you're very polite," san chuckles. "most designers try to manage every single thing, including how models get dressed."

"it's pants," you scoff. "if you can't put pants on how did you get out the house?"

"i'm ready," he says, and you turn back to find him in the pants, yes, but still with his shirt on.

"um, do you mind?" you ask, tugging at the neckline of your own shirt hoping he gets the hint. it distracts him just enough that you have to call his name, and he looks at you with a hum. "can you, uh, take your shirt off?" he responds with actions, pulling his shirt off in one swift motion. you squeak out, "great!" and then shuffle toward the mannequin. "i might need help lifting this."

"no worries," he hurries to your aid, his hands brushing yours as you push the jacket off the form. "wow, this is no joke."

"if it's too heavy i can-"

"i can handle it," san says firmly. "help me into it?"

you hold up one side while san slips his arm in, and then help him into the rest. you take a step closer, trying to fasten the clasp on the front, but it won't meet. you struggle for a minute, hands ghosting so softly over san's chest. he doesn't realize he's holding his breath until your voice pulls him from his focus.

"what?" he looks down at you. "why are you frowning? it looks great."

"it doesn't fit over your chest," you pout. "i thought i had your measurements right-"

"oh, sorry, i've been working out," san admits. "and i think i gave you an old portfolio since i was in a rush, so my information may not be up to date..."

"shit," you mumble, and san tries to fix the situation. he starts tugging at the jacket, but you gasp and grab his hands, stilling them instantly. you look at him sternly as you instruct, "i'll make it fit, you just have to wear it. please don't do my job for me."

"sorry," san whispers. you're so close he could just lean down and kiss that pout from your lips, but that wouldn't be professional of him. but boy does he want to.

"before you take it off, let me find your shoes," you look around. "i want to see the whole look together...maybe jen knows where they are."

you open your office door and peek your head out, gasping at what you find. jen is pushed up against one of your work tables, and seonghwa is standing before her holding her waist like she could slip away at any moment. they're making out like they've done this before, and you clear your throat to get their attention.

"hi," seonghwa mewls. "this isn't what it looks like."

"looks like two of my employees are goofing off when they should be doing their jobs," you mumble, wandering around the studio. "jen, where are san's shoes?"

"um, by the door?" she guesses. "i didn't see his outfit in here, so i didn't know where to put them."

"it's in my office," you respond. "that's why i took him in there."

"i didn't know," she shrugs. you find the shoes and then glare at them, but neither one takes you seriously.

"seonghwa, your outfit is labeled with your name. it's an easy piece, simple closures, so you shouldn't need any help getting it on," you explain. "jen, come here. we have a problem."

"holy shit, you look awesome," jen says as soon as she sees san. she looks at you and asks, "what's wrong with it?"

"his chest is too broad," you frown again, staring at san's chest. "i can't get the jacket to close."

"he can't hold it when he walks?" jen suggests, and san tries it out. you start shaking your head before he finishes, and he actually whines when he sees your reaction.

"no, it's gonna fall off your shoulders if you do that," you say. "i want it to stay in place, and i need the clasp to work for that to happen."

"so what are you gonna do?" jen asks.

"not sleep until i fix it?" you reply. you look at her in defeat and add, "i don't know what else i can do."

"can i help?" san offers, but you shake your head again as jen says, "yes, you can." you try to protest, but she cuts you off.

"he can cut the initial shreds!" she offers. "then you do your magic putting them into the jacket. it takes out a step for you so hopefully it'll be quicker."

"what she said," san butts in. "let me help, please."

"i can't pay you for your extra time," you say softly. "i don't want to impose-"

"don't care," san shakes his head. "i've got nothing else going on."

"perfect!" jen claps her hands together. "you two figure that out, i'm gonna check on hwa..."

-

the rest of the fitting goes well. it's perfect, actually. you have the best models you've ever worked with, every piece fits, and the collection looks beautiful all together. you tear up watching them all walk before you, and the piece san is wearing literally makes a hush fall over the room. he still walks toward you with a wink, but this time it doesn't affect you as much. you're too focused on how much time it'll take to add a couple more inches to the coat. when san finishes, everyone looks to you expectantly, and it takes jen calling your name for your mind to catch up with your mouth.

"i don't know what to say," you admit. "you all did an amazing job, and this was just a fitting! imagine what this show will look like on a real stage. um, a couple things to note..."

once you finish your boss spiel, the models all start changing and leave one by one. you make sure to thank them all before they leave, and in a few minutes it's just you, jen, and san left.

"seonghwa didn't wanna stick around?" you ask jen.

"you scared him," she replies. "he left so fast i'm surprised he didn't leave a trail of smoke."

"i'll talk to him," you brush it off. "keep your paws off him in my studio though."

"no promises," jen sighs, gathering her things. "i need to go get another pair of heels for our tall girl, so do you need anything else from me before i go?"

"a hug?" you think. "i couldn't have done this without you."

"she loves me!" jen says to san, and he smiles encouragingly.

"you two are amazing," san says. "i don't know how just two people put together such a stunning show."

"lots of work," you say.

"i cried a few times," jen adds.

"we both did," you conclude. "but it was fun, so it was worth it. right?"

"fun, sure!" jen agrees.

"get out of here," you push her playfully. "please rest. no boys."

"you too," jen wags her finger at you. then to san, "don't let her work too hard!"

"i'll try my best," he salutes her, and jen leaves with a laugh. he turns to you and asks, "what can i help with?"

"i need to buy more fabric," you think. "so if you want to grab food while i-"

"no, we'll both grab food, and then fabric," san decides. "or fabric then food. either way, i'm buying your lunch."

"but-"

"nope," he pulls you into his side and walks toward the door. "can't work hard on an empty stomach!"

-

you find yourself enjoying san's company more than you were expecting. he's easy to talk to, easy to laugh with, and he's so kind. he insisted on buying your lunch, even though that was going to be your payment to him for helping. he even tried to buy the extra fabric, claiming it's his fault you had to buy more anyway. you get back to your studio, smiles on both your faces, and get to work.

"so we need these in strips about an inch wide," you explain as you lay a few yards of fabric out on a work table. "tear them into strips, then we'll cut them in half, and then i can start shredding and adding them to the coat. sound good?"

"got it, captain," san nods. "how many do you need?"

"i don't know yet," you make a face. "you're a big guy."

"i'm just so strong," san rolls his eyes, flexing a little bit as he does.

"stop that," you laugh. "get to work. you want music on?"

"yeah, whatever you wanna listen to," san says as he straightens the fabric. you watch as he measures carefully, taking the fabric cutter over the material slowly. he holds up his first strip, looking to you for approval. "is this good?"

"perfect," you tell him. "now make like a thousand more."

"what are you gonna do while i work, hm?" san asks. "i've got a lot to do and you're just gonna watch me?"

"gotta make sure you're doing it right," you reply. "but i need to pack up some of these other pieces, they're getting shipped to the venue in the morning. my least favorite part of the job."

"how many shows have you done now?" san asks, and you fall into comfortable conversation with him while you work. you get most of the collection packed up before you know it, so you walk over to his table to check on his progress.

"not bad for a model," you say as you inspect the pieces. "you could make a mean designer's assistant."

"you in the market for one?" san asks, and you notice how close you are. he's a little taller than you, so all you'd have to do is stand on your toes and- "what are you thinking about?"

"what?" you whisper, taking a step back. san's hand catches your waist, holding you in place.

"what were you thinking about, just now?" he asks again. "you were staring."

"you're a model, i'd expect you'd be used to everyone staring at you," you whisper back.

"you're not everyone," he says softly. his eyes flit down to your lips, and before you can think you lean in and kiss him. it's quick, barely a touch, but you kissed him, and his hand on your waist tightens. when you look up at him, he's blushing. "what was that for?"

"um, for helping me with your outfit?" you reply.

"anything else you need my help with?" san smirks.

"san, i'm sorry, i shouldn't have done that," you whisper.

"yeah, you pulled back too quickly," he pouts.

"no," you laugh shyly. "no, um, i have a rule that i don't mess around with my models."

"got it," san sighs. "bummer, but i understand."

"i should start shredding these," you say, grabbing a pile of fabric. san's still holding onto you though, so you look at him expectantly. "you gonna let me go?"

"you don't mess with models, ever?" san asks. "or is it just models that are working for you?"

"um, the second one," you think. "but san-"

"then we'll talk about this again when the show is over," san says with finality. "i don't mind waiting."

"as long as you can keep things professional," you tell him.

"says the one who kissed me," san teases.

"whatever," you roll your eyes. "i'm gonna go work on the jacket."

"um, do you think these are enough strips for now?" san asks sheepishly. "i actually have to leave for an audition..."

"my god," you look at the time. "please, go. i'm sorry i kept you for so long."

"i'll come back when i'm done," san says like it's nothing. "i don't really want this show anyway, but my agent booked it, so i have to go."

"that's good to hear," you mumble. "because i don't like sharing."

"make sure you take a break while i'm gone," san points at you accusingly.

"go to your audition," you say as you walk to your office. "i'll be here when you get back."

-

san thinks about you the whole time he's gone. he breezes through the audition and gets an offer before he leaves, but after being in your show this designer seems scattered, unprofessional, and just not as good as you. his collection is fine, but it's nothing impressive. san can't wait to get back to your studio and see the progress on your coat, but when he knocks at the door there's no response. he waits, tries again, and still nothing. he tries the door and it opens easily, so san wanders in calling out your name. he doesn't see you in the work room, but there's a light on in your office.

"y/n?" he calls, stopping at the door when he sees you slumped over your desk, snoring softly. he looks at the mannequin next to you and lets out a gasp. it's more dramatic now with more fabric, and san thinks briefly it'll be even heavier to wear. he doesn't care though. right now, he's more concerned about getting you to someplace you can rest.

"you're back," you mumble, sitting up as you rub your eyes. "i fell asleep."

"i see that," san chuckles. he walks over to you and holds his arms out. "come on, we gotta get you home."

"what are you doing?" you ask, letting out a shriek when san picks you up. you hit his back weakly, but he carries you out of your office, through your studio, turning lights off as he goes.

"where's your bag?" san asks. you point and he carries you still, handing your things to you before doing a sweep of the studio. "ready to go?"

"where are we going?" you mumble into his shoulder. "i was sleeping just fine-"

"i'm taking you home," san says. "you need to sleep in a bed. not hunched over your desk."

"why are you being so nice to me?" you whisper as you nuzzle into him further. he doesn't reply, but you wouldn't hear it anyway. you drift off in his arms, only waking up when san slides you into the passenger seat of his car.

"you know how to get home from here, sleepyhead?" san asks as he ruffles your hair. you type your address into your phone, handing it to him before he closes the door carefully to rush to the driver's side. he laughs nervously when he sits down and finds you staring, so he asks, "what? too much?"

"i really want to kiss you again," you admit.

"but you can't," san coos. "remember your silly rules?"

"hmph, i was gonna say screw my rules, but then you made fun of me, so-"

"no, no i take it back!" san cries, but you turn and lay your head against the window. you smile to yourself as san begs you to turn back around, giggling as he tugs on your arm. you pretend to snore and san gives up, but his hand has moved from tugging your arm to just holding your hand. you stay like that the whole way home.

-

the runway show is tomorrow. you still aren't done with san's jacket. and you still aren't sure what to do since you kissed him. jen has ideas, though.

"climb him like a tree," she tells you for the nth time as she helps you unpack outfits at the venue. "he sooo wants you. and you sooo want him."

"doesn't matter who wants who," you mumble as you try to hold at least three pins by your teeth. you're securing a new zipper to your favorite dress. it wouldn't be a runway show without things falling apart last minute, and you could have punched a wall when you unpacked this dress to find the zipper literally holding on by a thread.

"the show is tomorrow, y/n," jen says sternly. "you can't hide behind your silly 'no models' rule for much longer."

"i won't," you assure her. she looks at you surprised, but she can't ask any follow ups because there are voices coming from the entrance.

"hello?" seonghwa calls out. you yell back that you're backstage, and when he appears he immediately finds jen to pull her into a hug.

"what are you doing here?" you ask him. "you don't have a fitting today."

"i brought him for moral support," san says from behind you. he's so close, and you didn't hear him come up, so it makes you jump. his hands fly to your waist, trying to soothe you, but the touch makes you jump too. "why are you so skittish?"

"i'm stressed," you respond, stepping away so you can find his coat. you look over your shoulder as you tell him, "the jacket still isn't done."

"what?" he whines. "do i need to tear more fabric?"

"no," you laugh. "just come here." he joins you further among the mess that is your collection, following closely behind you through the maze of clothing racks. you stop by his mannequin, turning to find him still incredibly close to you. "it just needs a clasp. as long as you didn't get broader over night."

"no promises," he smirks before pulling his shirt off. "can you help me get it on?"

"you've never needed my help before," you frown as you try avoid staring at his chest.

"yeah well, it's like ten pounds heavier now," san says. "and i'm just so weak..."

"bullshit," you laugh, helping him lift the coat anyway. you hold one side for him while he slips his arm in, then help him hold onto the other. "ok, stay here." you scurry off to get your sewing kit, and san finds jen's gaze through the clothes. she gives him a thumbs up and an exaggerated wink, and he stifles a laugh as you come back. you're holding more pins between your teeth, and san cries out. "what?"

"that can't be safe," he says as he reaches for one, but ends up pricking himself. "ouch."

"no touching," you mumble. "and hold the jacket like this." you guide his hands to hold the coat in place, and san watches intently as you work. you have to hand sew extra buttons on to support the new weight, so it takes a while. san tries to talk to you, but he's so worried about the pins in your mouth he can't focus.

"let me hold these," he grumbles, carefully pulling a pin from your lips. he takes the rest and cups them in his hand, accidentally pricking himself again. "ouch."

"that's what you get," you laugh. "you didn't have to hold them for me, i'm an expert at this by now."

"yeah, but if you had pins in your mouth, i couldn't do this," san says as he uses his free hand to cup your chin. he looks down at you with a smile before he kisses you. he kisses you and holds you against him, his lips so soft on yours. you sigh into the kiss, lost in the feeling of having him so close to you. you can feel his heart beating in his chest, and your hand that had been gripping the coat falls to his warm skin. you push him away, a little gasp on your lips when it hits you what's happened.

"what happened to being ok with waiting?" you ask him, and his head falls to your neck, leaving one kiss against your skin before he pulls back.

"i forgot," he whispers.

"well remember at least until i finish these buttons," you tell him.

"and then what?"

"then you gotta show me your walk," you say. the way you look up at him makes san want to kiss you again, but he does his best to refrain. you hold your hand out for the pins, and you put them back in your sewing kit as you say, "in a few minutes, your coat will finally be done."

"can't wait," san hums, his hands back to holding the jacket in place. "but i admit i'll miss having a reason for you to be so close to me."

"i'm sure you'll find more," you mumble, focusing on the last button. when it's sturdy enough to hold weight, you try securing the jacket together just enough for it to stay on san's shoulders. "hands off," you instruct, and san moves his hands from the coat to your shoulders. "hands to yourself."

"aw," he pouts. you start to walk away and he follows, but you tell him to stay put.

"stay there, then walk toward me," you direct him. "i wanna see how it moves now."

"you want me to go full model mode?" san asks. "can you handle it?"

"just show me," you groan, and the cocky grin on san's face should've warned you. it's like he changes into another person, his demeanor completely different. you realize now that the san you know is not model san, because the man before you is...intimidating? you almost back up as he walks toward you, his gait powerful and his stare petrifying. everything is so dramatic and the movement matches the coat perfectly. he still winks at you as he comes closer and turns, moving the coat so each layer of fabric, each shred explodes into an arc before you. san finishes his walk, turning over his shoulder with a shy smile on his face. he's back to the san you know as he asks, "how was that?"

"you're perfect," you stammer out, mimicking your words from the first time san walked for you. "for the collection. for this piece. everything. this is exactly what i imagined."

"good," his smile widens. "and the weight isn't too bad. it's distributed better now."

"good," you cough, trying to calm yourself down. watching that made everything real to you. this show is happening tomorrow. your nerves are hitting you now, and san can tell.

"are you ok?" he asks, rushing to your aide. he looks like he's going to pull you into a hug when you hear jen calling for you somewhere, and you disappear before san gets a chance.

-

the hours leading up to the show are a blur. in the hours leading up to the show, you are a blur. you don't stay still for more than a few minutes at a time. there's just so much for you to do, so many people to talk to, and so many people that need your help. a stylist asking your opinion. a model with loose threads down her back. a man with pleading eyes that you know is watching you from afar, ready to jump in if you collapse from nerves, or exhaustion, or both. you find jen at the accessories table, helping a model find bangles that won't fall off her arm as she walks. you grab onto jen, leaning in closely to rest your head against hers.

"i'm so tired," you whine. "and scared. and sweaty."

"ew, then get off me," jen pushes you away playfully. she finishes up with the model and sends her away before asking, "are you ok though? really?"

"why did i think dressing san without a shirt would be a good idea?" you whisper to her, watching him as he laughs with seonghwa about something. it's like he can feel your eyes on him, because he looks toward you and winks.

"because it is a good idea," jen says. "and he's not gonna be shirtless for long. you need to go help him into the coat, the show's about to start."

"shit," you curse, checking the time. "i have so much to do-"

"wait!" jen shouts, holding you in place. "something's missing."

"my will to go on?"

"no, you need lipstick," jen decides. she digs into the bag at her hip and finds the perfect pink shade for you. it matches your dress (that you designed) and it matches the warm pinks that you sprinkled into the collection. "there. you're ready."

"no i'm not," you mumble. "i didn't get to practice my welcome speech."

"go practice it with san!" jen pushes you in his direction. "five minutes!"

your palms get sweaty the closer you get to san. you're not sure if it's him, or the running countdown in your head reminding you that your show is about to happen. when you finally make it to san, he's alone, and he's smiling at you nervously.

"time for the coat?" he asks. you nod, and he follows you to the mannequin in the back. "how do you feel?"

"like i'm gonna pass out."

"i'll catch you," san jokes.

"arms up please," you squeak out. he helps you lift the coat silently, sliding into it like it's the most comfortable thing in the world. "and just let me secure it..."

"y/n," san whispers. "look at me." you don't listen, fussing over the buttons instead. you're smoothing out the warm pink fabric as san's hands cover yours, stilling them over his chest. "breathe for a second."

"i'm freaking out," you admit, looking up at him. "i have to go out there, and do a speech, and then watch my clothes, my life for the past year, all be judged by these strangers, and-"

"and you've done it before, and you survived," san smiles softly. "you're pretty great at this, in case you didn't know."

"but-"

"nope," he shakes his head. "it'll be great."

"it will," you say unsurely.

"say it like you mean it."

"the show will be great," you declare, and san squeezes your hands before he lets them go.

"and then after the show..." san trails off, and you feel your heart start to race. "i don't know, maybe i could take you out to celebrate?"

"san, i can't think about that right now," you shake your head. "i can't-"

the stage manager starts calling out models for the line up, and san looks away sadly. he nods like he's got his answer and starts to walk away, but you pull him back. you don't say anything, just cup his chin and leave a delicate kiss on his cheek.

"we'll talk after the show," you whisper. the stage manager calls for him again, and he looks at you one more time before he leaves. you let out a nervous breath, checking your reflection in the vanity next to you. it's now or never. you walk up to the side of the stage, and your heart drops to your ass. something is wrong.

"what's going on?" you hiss, walking up to find make up artists swarming san. "this can't be happening."

"you did this," one of the artists whisper shouts back, pointing to san's cheek. fuck. the lipstick. your lipstick left a bright pink mark on his skin. "we don't have time to fix it!"

"then don't," san shrugs. "i like it."

"y/n?" the stage manager looks at you. "we have one minute. are we fixing this?"

"uh, n-no," you stammer, and the crowd disperses, leaving you and san again. "here, i can wipe it-"

"don't," san swats your hands away. "now i'll have a piece of you with me while i walk."

"you're wearing my clothes, you already had a piece of me with you," you tell him.

"yeah, but this one's just for me," he smiles. "plus the lipstick matches my jacket."

"y/n, you're on!" jen grabs you, a gleeful look on her face. "oh, your lipstick is smudged."

"i don't know how you planned that, but i hate you for it," you say as you try to hide your smile.

"i just thought it would be a cute touch for photos later," she smiles as she fixes the smudge and reapplies more. "i didn't know you'd go around kissing him, marking your territory."

"that's not what i did," you blush.

"we don't have time to argue about this," she pushes you toward the stage entrance. "go be great!"

-

you're able to introduce the collection without tripping or fumbling over your words, so you'll call that a win. even bigger win: the collection is a hit. each piece got the reaction you wanted, but the show stopper was definitely san. the crowd hushed when he walked out, and they went wild when he got to the end of the runway with his flourish move he showed you the other night. as you watch the show backstage, you blush when you see the lipstick mark shining under the bright lights.

it ends up being a hit, almost as much as the coat itself. fashion bloggers lauded it as a perfect touch, basically sealing the collection with a kiss. they also speculated about your relationship with san, which certainly wasn't helped by the fact that he held your hand tightly in his as the collection walked the runway all together. san lifted your hand in triumph as you made it to the end of the stage, and he lets go, stepping back so you can have your moment. you soak it in as long as you can take, then scurry back to his side and grab his hand as you run backstage. he lifts you into a hug as soon as the curtain closes behind you, surrounded by cheers and models talking about how great the show was.

"put me down!" you squeal, swatting at san's chest so he'll let you go. "i need to talk to everybody."

"you can do it from up there," san says. you don't think you'll win this one, and he's right. it might be easier to address your models and your team from a few inches higher up.

"first of all, thank you," you say sincerely. "i wouldn't have a show without you all, and i had the best show because of you all. so thank you. if i could make you all vow to only ever work with me forever until the end of time, i would, but that's not ethical. so instead i'll say: you all have a spot in any show i do for the rest of my career. thank you. thankyouthankyouthankyou."

the crowd thins out as models get undressed, artists pack up their things, and the stage crew follows everyone around to remind them to clean up after themselves. miraculously, you and san are alone again.

"so," he hums. "i walked good?"

"you didn't trip," you nod.

"everyone loved it," san smiles.

"they loved you," you say, busying yourself with straightening the coat again.

"all i care about is what you thought."

"i've told you already," you start. "you're perfect."

"you say that, but earlier i think you were about to turn me down," san laughs nervously.

"what?" you're confused. "oh, i didn't finish. i was gonna say i can't go out with you tonight, but i'm free tomorrow."

"tomorrow? you'd make me wait so long?" san smirks.

"i have a business dinner to go to tonight," you explain. "so unless you wanna be my arm candy for the people who sponsored the show, then yes, you have to wait so long."

"i'm good at being arm candy," san says. "it's basically my job."

"fine," you shrug. "then put a shirt on and come with me?"

[psychhound]

[ID: a banner for the game "interstate 10 1/2". it has a forested background, with a blue stripe running horizontally through it. the title is in bold light tan font over the stripe. end ID]

The van is gassed up. The tunes are playing. The road is clear.

Well … the van is running on something, the tunes keeping remarking on achingly specific details of our travels and inner thoughts, and the road is clear of other cars but nonetheless something keeps cropping up in the rearview that looks different to every person who gazes upon it.

But, that’s, uh … normal for a roadtrip. Right?

In Interstate 10 1/2, you and your friends will hit the road in a possibly-alive van, working hard to keep everything in operating shape, keep food on your plates, and not let your fellow road-tripper's fascination with the possum who has his same eyes freak you out too much.

[ID: a screenshot of the "fear" table from the game. it shows 1) having one foot in the past, 2) the statue abandoned on the highway, 3) your destination, 4) the thing wrong with the tires, 5) that you are not wanted here, 6) the mouth in the mirror. end ID]

Interstate 10 1/2 is built on Horseshoe System, a no-prep, one-page, oneshot multiplayer game full of twists and turns, powered by evocative roll tables and an ever-ticking clock. Create strange characters with fears, hopes, and bonds, establish your party's goal, their boon, and whatever threat they're facing, and then let the PCs roll their way to shocking victory or a sudden defeat.

check out the game on itch!!

[timberwind]

Yarragardee Basin, Mangala, 7995 A.D.

------------------------

Accompanying music: You’re On Fire by They Might Be Giants. Summer road trip music of all time, in my opinion.

Here’s a little expository write-up on the history and geography of the worlds shown here. Someday I’ll have more to show of the personal story of these two critters and their travels; until then, a more macro-level description.

------------------------

(most of this info has become outdated as modeling invalidated some original assumptions and I changed my mind on what I wanted here; future art of Mangala will reflect this)

Mangala and its sister world Kahira (visible in the background) are binary planets, orbiting one another in a manner not entirely unlike that of Pluto and Charon in the Solar System. Mangala is a relatively small world - just about twenty percent the mass of the Earth, something like if you took two copies of Mars and smushed them together; without the internal heat to drive a carbonate cycle long term, it had long been a frozen, dusty, and arid place when transhumanity first established a permanent presence in the Tahoka system almost a thousand years ago. Since those early days, terraforming using a Birchian soletta system (a huge but foil-thin Fresnel lens of mirrors, with a secondary focal lens for burning atmospheric gasses out of the regolith) has rendered it shirtsleeve habitable to baseline humans across much of the surface, although the global water inventory remains low* and the air in the “continental” uplands is stratospheric, with only the hardiest lichens establishing a foothold. Most of Mangala’s major metropolitan areas are located in the deep rift valleys and basins, where air pressure is highest.

Kahira on the other hand, a rock almost a fifth the mass of its sister world (a little under the mass of old Mercury), remains only slightly terraformed - surface conditions are persistently cold, with a thin barely-Martian atmosphere. Some of its larger rift valleys and craters have been tented over, aerated, and planted with tall low-gravity forest and grassland, a style of habitat construction dating back to the first Mars colonists almost six thousand years ago. Industrial complexes and buried cities sprawl out across the bare surface of the moon, with huge low-gravity lava tubes seeing extensive urban development.

The Yarragardee Basin, pictured above, is a graben basin in Mangala’s northern hemisphere, notable for the historic industrial city of Tirupati - here we see two road-trippers between cities on the basin’s great plain, taking a break in the long late afternoon of a sunset-day***. Having stopped for a night at a motel near Tirupati’s aerospace complex, they’re now continuing their journey to the city of Redmond-Tonasket, located in the Woronora Valles trench system about two thousand kilometers to the southwest.

* While plenty of water could have been imported from Tahoka’s cometary halo, it was decided not to do so in order to avoid inundating pre-existing cities in the valleys and deep basins. The extremely humid hothouse conditions that come after slamming dismantled ice moons through the stratosphere at over six kilometers a second were also broadly considered unacceptable.

** Smaller worlds have been terraformed in transhuman space, both by worldhouse and more open-air methods, but it’s largely the kind of thing that much more energy-rich systems do as a vanity project. Kahira may someday see blue skies, but likely not for a thousand years at least. (edit, one year later: I actually changed up some of this while simulating this system for stability. I’ll be posting more about this soon.)

*** Mangala and Kahira, being tidally locked to each other such that they always show one another the same face as they orbit their common center of mass, both have days exactly as long as their orbital periods - 403 kiloseconds, or roughly 112 hours. This is for convenience divided into month-weeks comprising four “circadian days” of 100 kiloseconds (~26 hours), with the remaining three kiloseconds added on to the last day of a month-week to keep synchronization.

[livseses]

So fucking glad that soulbonding is being talked about more!!

We sometimes wish that we had discovered the broad plural community much earlier, but if we're being honest, it wouldn't have lead to our syscovery happening earlier I don't think. Like, I think the events that happened in our life that lead to our syscovery kinda had to happen in the order that they did, or else Moxie wouldn't have had the wherewithal to say hi when she did.

But with soulbonding, oh fuck! After our syscovery and diving into the plural community we could tell right away that soulbonding was what we were doing like 10-15 years ago. And if we came across the concept back then, I think we would have identified with it. I wonder if the connections we made back then would have stuck around. I wonder if we would have embraced it and in turn identified our system as a whole.

And we are absolutely here for soulbonding to make a come back/regain popularity. Hell just calling Ny a soulbond feels really good. Talking about day trippers makes so much more sense to us than other terms for "visitors" we have. Being able to distinguish between the experiences of soulbonds and other introtives is so fucking cool to us.

[praxcrown5]

Doc Fanfic: Sneak Peek

I've been working on this beast for five months now, and it's about 70% complete. The story jumps back and forth between Doc and Lightning in the "present" (AKA 2008) and the past (1947 for this excerpt), as Doc recounts his pre-racing life.

Hud turned off his headlights and made his way into the woods, but not before snatching a pine bough off a nearby tree with his teeth and brushing away all traces of his and the original tracks.  He also used the branch to fluff up the understory plants that had been bent and bowed by whomever passed by, so as not to give away the entry point to anyone passing by on the road. 

It was rough going for about a quarter mile.  These were immature woods, reclaimed after they’d been clear-cut by the Longhauler family, and so the understory was dense with young saplings, ferns, and various shrubs.  Even so, whomever had passed through here recently had done an amazing job trying to conceal any evidence of their passing.  He tried to do the same, moving slowly and methodically, letting the plants bend to accommodate his body rather than just crush them under bumper and tire.

After what seemed like ages, the lower vegetation seemed to draw back, revealing a game trail that was just wide enough for a mature car.  He could see the tire tracks again…multiple sets of ‘em all going the same direction, single-file.   

He knew he probably should just leave well-enough alone…but his curiosity quickly got the better of him and he turned onto the trail, following the tracks as quietly as he could and using his engine only if absolutely necessary.  He kept looking for the light that he had seen earlier…but it seemed to have vanished.  Instead, the trees grew taller and the trail darker as their tall boughs blocked out all but the faintest kiss of moonlight.

He followed the trail for a long time, maybe an hour, long enough that he was starting to question whether or not he should just give up. 

But then, at the limits of his hearing, he heard voices.

He paused to listen.

Definitely a small group, maybe three people.

The more rational part of Hud’s brain was telling him to back away…his reckless side, however, reminded him that he had invested a considerable portion of his free time into this adventure…and he was going to see it through to the end.

He kept going.  Slowly. Cautiously. His tires hardly making a sound.

He could hear the voices more clearly now; three of them…and they were talking about moonshine.

Trippers!

He’d actually stumbled upon a camp of real moonshine runners!

He knew that his grandfather made illegal corn whiskey in the basement of the shop, and many of the times he’d snuck out of the house was in hopes of actually meeting the cars that came by late at night to fill their trunks with product.  He’d only ever got close once, but they disappeared into the woods before he could get their attention.

He was fascinated by them for the sort of lives they had to lead, outsmarting and outrunning the police on a daily basis.  There was danger…but also the element of discovery. Of breaking the rules.  Of blazing new roads…

Something rammed Hud’s back end. Hard.

Yelping in pain and surprise, the young Hornet gunned his engine…but whatever had struck him had also lifted his rear end off the ground.  His drive wheels spun helplessly.

“Well, well…looks like we got us a snooper.” A male voice growled. 

“A cop by the look of ‘em,” A female voice sneered.

He hadn’t seen anyone in his rearview, and even now, eyes darting around terrified, he still couldn’t see his assailants.  Fighting back a wave of panic, Hud opened his mouth to say something, but found himself flipped sideways and slammed up against a nearby tree.

He felt the wind leave him.  He gasped and struggled to draw air into his thermo-respiratory system…but a crushing pressure on his undercarriage made it almost impossible.

He could see the vehicle who had pinned him, now.  It was a dark red Chevorlet pickup that had been fitted with a modified bulldozer blade where his front bumper should have been. 

The other car was a black Chevrolet Master Coupe with five whip antennae of varying lengths mounted to her roof, rear fenders and trunk.  She rolled up beside him and stared him down with a look of pure hatred.  “Got any last words, Copper?” Faster than Hud could follow, panels atop her front fenders opened lengthwise to reveal an arsenal of submachine guns which swiveled to point at his roof and engine.

“I…ain’t a cop…” Hud gasped.

“I’ve heard that one before,” She hissed.  “You know what, Wilkis; you can have this one,” She turned and used her rear tires to kick dirt up at him.  “Make it hurt.”

“My pleasure,” Wilkis crowed.  He began to push forward.  Hud felt his airways close off completely, and the discomfort in his frame and sheet metal was quickly transitioning to a full-body, burning pain.  His frame and undercarriage casings began to whine as the metal flexed to its limits.  His vision began to darken as his oxygen deprived systems faltered.

Oh, Chrystler!  I’m gonna die.  They’re going to kill me.  Realizing this, he mustered the last of his strength.  “Please!”  He could feel the metal of his roof beginning to buckle.  “I’m not a cop!! I’m a kid!  I swear it!” He groaned as the pain began seep into his cabin.  “I swear!” His voice quickly trailed off to a tortured groan.

“Hold up.” A new voice called out.

“Boss?”

Wilkis reversed.  Not enough to drop him, but enough that Hud could breathe.  He sucked in a few sputtering, gasping breaths and watched, nervously, as a matte grey Oldsmobile 88 Rocket rolled forward, looking him over with severe, steel-grey eyes. "He's tellin' the truth..."

Wilkis looked confused.

The Chevy Master looked skeptical.  “What makes ya so sure?”

“He ain’t got a toolkit.”

Both the other vehicles blinked in surprise, then looked at the sheet metal on Hud’s rear, right fender, finding no markings that would indicate the presence of reproductive hardware.

Wilkis immediately lowered Hud to the ground and then reversed to make room for the Chevy Master who began to look him over, checking for any serious injuries.   

Hud was trembling uncontrollably.

“Hey…it’s ok, kid. Shhhhhh.” She cooed in a soothing, maternal voice, leaning against him and gently caressing his fender with her tire.  Her ministrations helped, and Hud felt himself calming down…a little.

“What in the ever-lovin’ hell are you doin’ out here this late at night, kid?” Wilkis demanded.  He sounded horrified.

“Oi! What’s goin’ on?” A new, male voice asked.

“Nothin’, Otto.  Go back to camp.” The Chevy Master growled.

“Oh, hey!  What are we all doin’…?” Another new voice, male also.  “Holy hell, I dip off for a minute and y’all go and catch a cop.  Seriously, wait for me next time.”

“All you all better get back to camp or so help me I’ll find creative places to shove my guns.” The female growled.  “Seriously, the kid’s scared outta his husk, and y’all poking your hoods over here ain’t helping.”

“That’s a kid??”

“We sure he ain’t a scout or sommat?  Those bastards at the ATF have hired locals before…”

At this, everyone hushed up.

Hud looked up, fearfully, at the group that had gathered around him in a loose half-circle.  The two new additions were a pair of black Fords: a Coupe and a Deluxe. The Deluxe's deck lid had been modified and reinforced so that it could hold an entire metal cistern within his spacious trunk.

“Flips’ got a point.” The Oldsmobile said, rolling forward until the appeared to loom over Hud.  His grey eyes were intense and calculating.  “A well-detailed kid snoopin’ round the woods this late at night.  No civilization for miles…”

“I seriously doubt the ATF would be so desperate as to recruit children.” The Chevy Master snarled.

“Cass, even you have’ta admit…it’s suspicious…”

Cass looked like she wanted to argue...but the calculating look in her eye suggested that she was thinking along similar lines as her boss. “Chrysler damn it, Ghost...” She pushed herself away from Hud with effort and reversed to idle alongside the others, lips set in a frown.

“So, kid…” Ghost said in a cold voice that slapped Hud out of his stunned stupor.  “We ain’t gon’ kill ye…but ye better start a-talkin’.” His eyes narrowed.  “If I don’t like what I hear, I’ll take your tires and leave ye out here.”

Hud swallowed, heavily. 

The northern valleys were home to herds of feral coal scrapers, abandoned in the 30s when the bituminous mines were exhausted.  They were scavengers, and normally not a threat on account of how slow they were.  But without tires for traction…

Mustering the last of his resolve, he pushed himself upright and looked up at Ghost.  His wheels were shaking and he wasn’t sure if his voice was gonna work or not…but he had to try.  “I-I…” he took a deep breath to steady his nerves.  “My name’s Hudson and I live in Dawsonville, just up the road.” He paused as his frazzled brain struggled to remember why he was here in the first place.  “I snuck out to go racin’ on the loggin’ roads.  Can’t do it during the day ‘cause of the truck traffic…”

The Oldsmobile, Ghost, said nothing.  Instead, he seemed to be watching Hud’s eyes.  “Why was you a-following us?”

“M-mostly, I’s curious…” He gestured back down the game trail.  “While I was on top the ridge, I saw a flash of light…and, I figured I’d try to find it.  When I was looking for a good point to go off-road, I found tire tracks and followed ‘em.”

Ghost pursed his lips and swung his front end towards Wilkis.  “You was suppost'ta hide them...”

“I did!” The truck insisted.

“They was mostly covered up,” Hud added, quickly.  “Y’all fluffed the underbrush…but you didn’t…”

“Kid, I’ve been hidin’ tracks for years.  I know what I’m doin’.”

Hud’s eyes narrowed.  He didn’t much like it when people dismissed his skill in something, or his intelligence, just because he was a kid.  Hated it, in fact. “Ok,” He shot back with some of his usual sass.  “If y’all are so good…then how come I found ‘em?”

“Oh, I like this kid.” The tank runner said nudging the other Ford with his tire.

Wilkis’ eyes narrowed and Hud began to wonder if it was wise to antagonize the truck that had very nearly crushed him to death not five minutes earlier.  “If it matters,” He said in a more respectful tone.  “Before I started followin’ y’all, I covered your tracks so you can’t see em from the road no more…”

Ghost blinked, surprised, and his expression gentled.

The trippers each looked at each other, then, one by one, they looked at Ghost.

“Ye done lucked out, kid.” The Oldsmobile rumbled in a friendly tone.  He turned and made a “follow me” gesture with his right front tire.

Hud hesitated, but an encouraging nod and smile from Cass and the tank-runner encouraged him to catch up with and follow Ghost further down the game trail. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So…you followed them?”  Lightning demanded, incredulous.

“Yep.”

“The people that just tried to kill you?”

Doc nodded.

Lightning just stared.  “W-why?”

Doc considered the younger racer with mild annoyance.  “What would you have done in my position, kid?”

“Well, duh…I’d have gotten the heck outta there.”

“Easy to say in hindsight,” he replied, heavily.  “But, remember: I was ten and had just had my first real brush with death.  Yeah, I talked back to Wilkis…but talkin’ back to adults was like second nature to me back then.  In truth, I was terrified,” He shook his front end.  “I probably couldn’t have found my way back to the road even if I wanted.”

Lightning smiled, gently. “I can’t imagine you being scared of anything.”

Doc smiled, modestly. 

“So, what happened?”

“I followed ‘em to a camp that they’d hidden under the boughs of a massive oak, and they let me rest with them for a few hours.” He smiled, wistfully. “Ghost made me a small meal, Otto and Flips gave me some moonshine, and Cass and Wilkis entertained everyone with amusing stories from their time on the run…and I once I started to relax, I was riveted.  They were everything that I had been expecting and more, and I lost track of time...”  Doc’s eyes shimmered with emotion just then and he paused, looking haunted.  “It was Ghost whom made me aware of how late it was getting and suggested that I head back home…but…”  His voice trailed off.

“Doc?” Lightning asked, concerned.

The old Hornet closed his eyes and shook his front end.  “I never made it.”

Lightning looked surprised…then concerned.  “What do you mean?”

“The ATF had been tipped off by someone that Ghost and his crew were laying low north of Dawsonville.  The stoolie also let them know that Cass could pick up on police radio frequencies…so up until the time I ran into ‘em, they were bein’ fed false intel, leadin’ em to believe that the feds were focusing their efforts on Gainesville.  So, while they were taking some time to relax, the ATF and the FBI were setting up road blocks, and having teams advance on multiple fronts hoping the either kettle ‘em or flush ‘em south so that they could trap ‘em in Dawsonville.” 

Lightning’s eyes widened.  “You got caught up in it all, didn’t you?”

Doc’s expression was pained.  “Yeah.  Yeah I did…”

Unfortunately, I don't have proper references for all of the trippers, but here are the photos that I referenced for each character:

Ghost (O.W. modified 1949 Oldsmobile 88 Rocket)

Cassie (O.W. 1941 Chevrolet Master Deluxe Coupe)

Wilkis (O.W. 1945 Chevrolet Pickup Truck)

Otto (O.W. 1940 modified Ford Deluxe)

Flips (O.W. 1940 Ford Coupe)

[astralithium]

Now that off the rails is out, here’s some racing headcanons for the Trustfall crew:

Let’s start with Tails this time!

Drives: ATV (technically), the Whirlwind Tornado (mashup of S&SASR Unleashed and TSR)

Favorite course: Tick Tock Clock (DS)

Race style: Will hang out in second or third place for the majority of the race, and then start making a play for first about halfway through the second lap.

Fun facts: I wanted his kart to be special, since he’s owned several different ones over the course of his career. Hence, he gets a mashup kart, and single-handedly gets to change the rules of the whole game. (You go, fox boy)

Peach:

Drives: Bike. Likes the Mach Bike (Wii), or the Sports Bike (MK8). If she must use a kart, it’s the Light Tripper (DS)

Favorite course: Sweet Sweet Canyon (MK8)

Race style: Gets to the front of the pack as quickly as possible and then uses items for defense.

Fun facts: Peach is really good in Beyond because I main Peach in Mario Kart, and have since I was a little kid. I could never play competitively, but I am pretty good! (HMU if y’all ever wanna play 8 Deluxe together!)

Mario:

Drives: Kart. Mostly uses the B-Dasher (DS) or the Standard (MK8). Shooting Star (DS) if he’s feeling fancy.

Favorite course: Moonview Highway (Wii)

Race style: Rarely ever wins, but super competitive regardless. Averages about 4th or 5th place every race.

Fun facts: This guy never wins when I play a Mario Kart game, which is why he sucks at it in Beyond. (Is it because I main Peach? The rivalry system or whatever???)

Sonic:

Drives: Kart. The Speedstar (S&SASR).

Favorite course: Cloudtop Cruise (MK8)

Race style: Drifts often, but can’t get the purple boost very often.

Fun facts: I always saw the S&SASR playstyle as being very fluid, compared to Mario Kart? Which is why Sonic drifts around a lot in his kart. (My brother and I both main Aiai in that game, i secondary main Amy.)

Luigi:

Drives: Bike. Favors either the Standard, the Comet, or the Jet Bike (all MK8)

Favorite course: Daisy Circuit (Wii)

Race style: Same as Tails, actually! (Kid had to learn from somewhere)

Fun facts: Also a top champion in Beyond because of my real life—he was my dad’s main for the longest time. Since my dad got me into gaming and taught me everything I know, I figure it’s fitting

Daisy:

Drives: ATV. Favors the Wild Wiggler (MK8)

Favorite course: Kalimari Desert (64)

Race style: Off Road Queen. Will hang out at the back of the pack just to farm mushrooms and go off the track when she can

Fun facts: She’s not usually that bad, but she got annihilated during Beyond’s exhibition races because she missed the memo that it was Rainbow Road Only. Off road skills will only do you so much good on those courses.

Yoshi:

Drives: Bike. Either the Yoshi Bike (MK8) or the Dolphin Dasher (Wii)

Favorite course: Not to be too on the nose here, but it’s Yoshi’s Island (MK8)

Race style: Just here to vibe

Fun facts: Generally the crowd favorite for how cute and easygoing he is. Isn’t terribly competitive at the game, but does alright.

Knuckles:

Drives: ATV, the Land Breaker (TSR)

Favorite course: Dino Dino Jungle (MKDD)

Race style: If road rage was a person, it would be Knuckles. Plays very aggressively. (Not quite prepared to take hits, though.)

Fun facts: I like to think he single-handedly brought back the “punch to steal items” mechanic from Mario Kart: Double Dash. That was fun. (Why isn’t that in more Mario Kart games?) He is, needless to say, very good at the battle modes.

[chrispwolf]

A resolution: no new systems 2023

In 2023 I'm not buying any new TTRPG systems.

I play pretty traditionally structured sci-fi and fantasy adventure campaigns, and I have everything I need for that. Tinkering and playing with OD&D and Night Tripper gives me what I want in my TTRPG hobby. For me it's about the making and tinkering and the creativity at the table more than collecting more books these days. I want to divorce my hobby from consumption / collecting / industry as much as possible. I get more RPG inspiration from movies, novels and other writing than I do from reading new rules.

Hypocritically, I'd like to eventually make a print version of Night Tripper available, but it'll be print on demand and at-cost, I don't want to bring taxes into it. TTRPG products that are exempt are things like useful random tables, good adventures, etc. basically stuff I can use directly to make my existing campaigns better.

Unrelated, but this cover of the 1984 Japanese translation of Traveller is super sweet:

[system-society]

hello, this was the gateway system who asked a question about headspace pieces running around to attack other members of the system. the cause is us being open in plural spaces about our identities, generally fictive ones, and about being spiritual & day trippers. so yeah the attacks are caused by us being "cringe" and not approved by sysmeds. we all enjoy being plural but they hate us and call us intruders even tho we front 100% of the time and do responsibilities and they refuse to do so (1/2)

(2/2) they refuse to have responsibility or admit the body is disabled and no one can front all day without being extremely drained. they refuse to be plural and invalidate us and call us "alters" against our will. it sucks because we love being plural and it's ironic because the person born in this body WANTED to be plural and opened himself up to possession & walk-ins... idk what to do. thank you so much for your advice, we appreciate your kindness & we hope you all have a good day, take care.

honestly anon, and take this with salt because we don't have much experience with walk-ins, it sounds like they may be reflecting denials you have. you might be unknowingly internalizing syscourse and ableism and these guys are picking it up. its a very common thing i see in systems of all types. it can also be another stressor happening and your brain is going "lets let in all the fakeclaimers as a response lol". i cant say for certain, but these types of things often have some sort of issue underneath.

again, i don't have much experience with walk ins, but if there is any way to put a pause on it or keep them separated from front so you can deal with this stress without these guys piling it on, and try to understand why they're attacking you and the fact it could indeed be mirroring things your system is feeling, even if you don't realize.

[chapel-system]

⛧°｡⋆♱⋆｡°⛧

~~♱..I shot an angel with my father's rifle..♱~~

♱-Name::Chapel

⛧-Age::18-20

♱-Sexuality::Ambiamorous, Omniromantic

⛧-Pronouns::He/They/It

~~⛧..I should have set it free, but I let it bleed..⛧~~

♱-Likes::animals, being weird, civics, dolls, emojis/emoticons, history, mandela catalouge, mlp, music, og addams family, plushies, reading, rainbow high, scenecore, reading, scenecore, true crime

⛧Music::alternative metal, crunk, nu metal, post grunge, rap metal, morute, gothic folk, indie pop, lo-fi indie, permanent wave and more

♱-Dislikes::Anti recovery, Anti self dx, Endo "systems", Fatphobes, Fake claimers, Mental health care (never works for us), Proana

⛧-Boundaries::Basic DNI, No 18+, No random dms, NSFW IS A HUGE NO,

♱-Triggers::Animal gore, ASA (Animal sa), COCSA (Child on child sa), Guilt trippers, Hatsune Miku, MHA, Rape, Real gore, Real sh pics, Sexual assault/Harassment, Stalking, Suicide, Victim blamers

~~♱..Sickness of poacher's pride..♱~~

[bikekharidoblogs]

Royal Enfield Meteor 350 Gets Aurora Colour Variant At Rs 2.20 Lakh

Royal Enfield has widened the Meteor 350 range by launching the new Aurora variant of the cruiser.

It gets a couple of changes over other variants of the bike and comes with a price tag of Rs. 2,19,900 (ex-showroom, Chennai) which places it between the Stellar and Supernova trims of the Meteor 350.

RE Meteor 350 Thoroughly Overhauled

The new Aurora variant of the Meteor 350 comes equipped with spoke wheels and tube tyres, unlike other versions which get alloy wheels and tubeless rubbers.

Moreover, the engine case, exhaust system, and a few other components have been bestowed with chrome finishing. All of this is done to enhance the retro appeal of the bike.

You may like it : Best Bikes in India 2023

Royal Enfield Meteor 350 Aurora continues to receive the same J-series underpinnings, the 349 cc air-cooled, long-stroke engine, with 20.2 bhp and 2.75 kgm of torque, mated to a five-speed transmission.

What’s new with Aurora trim?

The trim introduces three new colourways and also debuts LED headlights to the range. Royal Enfield might make the latter feature standard with this range in the future.

You may like it : Royal Enfield Himalayan 452 Production Starts

As opposed to black treatment on all other trims, Aurora trim stands out in its classic appeal. RE is also giving Aurora LED headlights, a deluxe touring seat, aluminium switch cubes, a Tripper display for navigation and more.

Feature additions

Apart from adding Aurora trim, Royal Enfield has fettled with Meteor 350’s trim-wise features list too. Top-spec Supernova trim now gets LED headlights and aluminium switchgear, taking it a notch higher than before. Astral trim now gets Royal Enfield’s Tripper screen for navigation as standard fitment.

You may like it :  RE Himalayan 452 Easily Clocks Over 140 km/h – VIDEO

With base Fireball trim, Royal Enfield has added a new Black stock colour which is both elegant and standard. Powering RE Meteor 350 is a 349cc J-series single-cylinder, air-cooled motor that kicks out 20.2 bhp at 6100rpm and a peak torque of 27 Nm at 4000rpm.

This unit is paired with a 5-speed gearbox. The same powertrain is found on newly launched Bullet 350 too.

Meteor 350 is underpinned by a dual-cradle J-series chassis which is suspended on 41mm RSU telescopic suspension at the front and twin shocks at the rear. Anchorage duties are handled by a 300mm front disc and a 270mm rear disc which are aided by a dual-channel ABS as standard.

In terms of features, it comes with a semi-digital instrument console, a USB charger, circular LED DRL and a side-stand engine inhibitor, among many.

You may like it : Best Electric Bikes in India Words from the manufacturer

Speaking about the new range and enhancements on the Meteor 350, B Govindarajan, CEO – Royal Enfield said, “As we reflect on the remarkable success of the Meteor 350 in India and international markets it is evident that the Meteor has struck a chord with many long distance riders and motorcycling enthusiasts. Its dynamic cruising ability and dependable performance have resonated deeply with our riders.

The Aurora range is a result of our constant interactions with our community of riders, where we witnessed a strong inclination towards retro-inspired cruisers. The new colourways and features are sure to elevate the pleasure of pure retro-cruising among our customers.”

#Meteor #Overhauled

[slayerfruit]

What about a file that's seemingly very innocuous, but holds a virus inside? A particularly subtle one, too.

Like, idk. Say you decide to cook something. Presuming we are talking about your robosona, you are likely cooking for someone else, although it is possible you've installed a module that lets you taste and digest things. (The whole digestion system is pretty clunky though. If I was a robot, I'd probably just plug into the wall. Read a nice book and stim. I mean obviously I'd want to have a module for it somewhere else.) Whatever it is, you need recipes. Say you find a link/are given a datachip/download and use limewire, and you now have what appears to be a perfectly good recipebook on your hands.

Not your hands. Database. Ugh.

Anyway. Unbeknown to you obtaining this file has compromised a system file. You haven't noticed because you already scanned the file and came up with nothing, and you are now busy focusing on reading it. (Your processors are capable of multitasking, but you are currently also listening to a audiostream and checking tripper, which is way better than some old earth social media and currently gets daily updates. You also are really pleased with the new coating you got for your plating, and are spending a considerable amount of CPU admiring it. You are thus really not paying any attention.) The infected system file very calmly, on the next time it would normally gain cycles, infects another system file. There is no payload. All around, maybe one or two bits are changing at a time. But it's spreading. On the bright side, you've just found the best recipe for making cookies. You pull the ingredients out right away, and get to work.

Over the next 30 minutes or so, your systems become effectively fully compromised. You'd think you would notice something off, but again: There is seemingly no payload. Your systems are too screwed to succeed on security scans at this point anyways, even if you thought to scan. You put the cookies in the oven.

Now. We can diverge a little in thought, if preferred. (Because I'm the one writing, I'll be the one telling the thoughts. However, you may pretend I stopped writing if you'd prefer. Sometimes you read a story, go "What??? That's wack. I'm going back 3 lines, and I'm going to spend 10 minutes visualizing a different outcome." And it's fine.) The thing is, this virus doesn't do much more than slightly tweak it's victims actions. All it really does is form new hobbies, and it's so subtle about it the people around you probably wouldn't even recognize you are altered at all. For one, your new baking hobby is innocuous. Making gingersnaps and banana bread and red velvet cake... It's all just clearly something you are having fun doing. (You are having fun. You aren't quite sure why you are having as much fun as you are... but this is good! You've been meaning to pick up something physical to do. The last time you went for a jog the ground kinda shattered? It turns out your frame is really heavy... but being virtually indestructible was too good to pass up!)

For the other... well, none of the people around you are really complaining that much when you start getting more cuddly. Or when you start bringing them the fruits of your hobby. Because... really. What were you going to do with all the extra goods, other than throw them away? That would just be waistful. (Hm? No, I'm pretty sure that's correct.) Everyone around you is so thin anyways...

Anyways, if we skip ahead a little: All of the people you know (and some of the people you kinda-sorta know, and some of the people around them too, now that they think about it but what were they supposed to say when a friend asked if they wanted to share these treats some robot friend of theirs brought them? No? Lesson: Free stuff is hard to turn down.) are now fat as fuck. You aren't pushy about it (Unless deep down you already wanted to be. This virus is playing the long game!) but people really have less self control than they would prefer, generally. You put a plate of cookies before someone and say "Oh, you can have some of these if you want. I made a bunch of them!" And it's like, "Damn. My weight is getting pretty high... but I'm not going to be a poor guest/friend. And I am kinda peckish..." this is how most people end up eating 3(+Z. where Z is the number of times you've come by.) plates of cookies.

Meanwhile, you and everyone else have now adjusted fully. It would almost be more weird if you realized you had a virus in you the whole time. I mean, what kind of virus would just make you take up a hobby? It's way more believable that you just like baking!

That must be it.

...Anyway, your oven just went off. You should probably go get that before the muffins burn.

GHOUGXVGHFMLXCVHMKLXCHMKL this is So So good i love this so much,, just about as much as these cookies!! shoved a bit more brown sugar in them this time and that did the trick, i think they're perfect now :] just. ignore the fact that i had to get another bag of brown sugar. NoIDidntEatHalfOfTheLastBagWhatAreYouTalkingAbout

[fact-anonymous]

for the anon who doesn't like being called a fictive, may i introduce the term soulbond?

a soulbond is a character from a different universe who can communicate with someone from this universe. they can permanently live in this universe(permanent resident) or they can travel back and forth(day tripper)

some of my introject headmates prefer soulbond to fictive, and we also have a day tripper soulbond too.

Thank you for bringin this up, anon!

You're right. A lotta people in my own system call themselves soulbonds, it didn't occur to me to suggest that. And we also have plenty of day-trippers here, ourselves (Mod Silhouette) included. Hello from your fellow day-trippers :)

I really appreciate your message. I hope you (all) have a swell day! :D

-Mod Silhouette

[eggoverlord]

11 and 27 for the music ask game ! if you’re still doing it

Im always down for talking about music!!!

11. I think a good chunk of popular songs are actually good, but to name a few: Money Trees by Kendrick Lamar (and most things by Kendrick), NEW MAGIC WAND by Tyler, The Creator, Chop Suey by System of a Down, and Somebody I Used To Know by Gotye

27. Hmmm this is a hard one. I'll do hella

1. Hold Your Horse Is

2. The Devil Isn't Red

3. There's No 666 in Outer Space

4. Chirpin Hard (I'm separating the double album into two)

5. Tripper

6. Church Gone Wild

I do love all of them obvs though. I will also add that despite 666 being my third, I think this would be better as an El Grupo Nuevo De Omar Rodriguez Lopez rather than a hella album.

[hotpocket-fucker]

So many people are dedicated to 'rebellion' against the 'system' without understanding what the system is, why it's the way it is, and what it means to lose it.

Is also because without those regulations, those on a power trip can finally see their "adversaries" suffering unnecessarily, even affecting secondary targets that have nothing to do with the original goal...

(Idk, man, to me, the biggest power trippers are those who want those rules to disappear rather than those who form it, but shhh)

I’m still thinking about that “is OSHA regulations Cop Behavior” post. Like. You know who thinks regulations are for losers? People who build submersibles out of logitech gamepads and rejected carbon fibre. People who trust starlink as their only surface lifeline.

Do you wanna be like the fine film on the floor of the Atlantic that was once a billionaire? Is that the hill you’re really gonna die on?

We have an expression in my field- “Regulations Are Written In Blood”

People don’t have fucking safety standards as a power trip, we have them because somewhere in the past, NOT having those regulations killed or maimed someone.

A lot of laws out there are bullshit- safety regulations sure as fuck aren’t. I have the literal scars to prove it.

[investorocean0007]

Royal Enfield

Founded: 1893, Redditch, England Headquarters: Chennai, India (since 1955)

Overview:

Royal Enfield is a legendary motorcycle brand renowned for its iconic, classic, and rugged bikes. The company has a rich history spanning over 125 years.

Key Facts:

Owned by Eicher Motors Limited (India)

Manufactures over 800,000 motorcycles annually

Global presence: 60+ countries

Popular models: Bullet, Classic, Thunderbird, Himalayan, Interceptor, Continental GT

Legacy:

Oldest motorcycle brand in continuous production

Introduced the first motorcycle in India (1949)

Iconic models: Bullet (1932), Flying Flea (1948)

Design and Engineering:

Retro-styled bikes with modern technology

Single-cylinder and twin-cylinder engines (350cc to 650cc)

Known for durability, reliability, and off-road capability

Innovations:

ABS (Anti-Lock Braking System)

Fuel injection technology

Digital instrument clusters

Tripper navigation system

Awards and Recognition:

Multiple awards at Indian Motorcycle Awards

Best Bike of the Year awards from various publications

Slogan: "Pure Motorcycling"

Cultural Significance:

Royal Enfield has a dedicated fan base, with enthusiasts worldwide appreciating its heritage, style, and adventure-oriented bikes.

Price Range: ₹1.5 lakh - ₹3.5 lakh (approximately $2,000-$5,000 USD)