#and maybe call a mechanic for them during the ad breaks

[abrahamstalker]

A lil comic based on NotRealName NotAtAll's FNAF ruin smooching guide

Video in question

[angelluv16]

Hi! Could I have a fic where reader is Chr*st**n H*rn*r's daughter and she doesn't have the best relationship with her dad (especially after the allegations) but she has a wardrobe malfunction during media with her tube top (which, fun fact, is called a boob tube in the UK (I think)) and the nearest garage is Mercedes so she heads there and comes out wearing a Mercedes kit and all hell breaks loose with her dad? It could be Kimi Antonelli x reader (or George Russell x reader, whatever you prefer)

Wrong Team

✩: No one except your close friends knew you were dating a Mercedes driver until a little accident happened that revealed it all

Want to be added to my taglist? (new version): Click here

pairing: Kimi Antonelli x reader

warnings: Christian Horner (🤮), Flashing? argument (chirstian being an ass like always)

A/n: I'm so so sorry this is so so bad. It's really late, and I decided to do it now since I have school tomorrow and I won't be able to write then. But Your my third ever request I love writing for you guys I love writing in general I just really suck cuz Idk what to write about haha

Butterfly Banner- @bernardsbendystraws

This day was officially the worst.

Media duties were already hell, especially when half the reporters were still throwing shady questions about your last name at you. But then, as if the universe was personally out to get you, your top decided to completely betray you in front of the entire paddock.

One second, you were answering some pointless question about Red Bull’s performance. The next—pop. Your stupid strapless top slipped at the absolute worst moment, and the cameras? Oh, they caught everything.

Panic took over. You bolted from the media pen, arms crossed over your chest, not stopping to think about where you were going. Just away.

Which, in hindsight, was how you ended up here.

Mercedes.

“Uh—hey?” One of their mechanics blinked at you, completely confused as you barged in, looking like you’d just escaped a disaster (which, to be fair, you had).

“Long story,” you muttered, shifting uncomfortably as the cold air hit your now-exposed shoulders.

Thankfully, someone—bless their soul—threw you an oversized team shirt. You yanked it on immediately, sighing in relief as the fabric swallowed you whole. The crisis somewhat averted.

Or so you thought.

The second you stepped outside, still wearing the Mercedes shirt, you heard it.

That voice.

“What. The. Fuck.”

You froze.

Slowly, you turned to see your father—Christian Horner—staring at you like you’d just committed actual treason.

His face? A deep shade of red. His jaw? Clenched so tight you were honestly concerned for his teeth.

“What the hell are you wearing?” he demanded, his voice low but dripping with fury.

You glanced down at yourself like you’d somehow forgotten the giant Mercedes logo now printed across your chest. “Uh—”

“Are you kidding me?!” He took a step forward, eyes burning into you. “You just humiliated yourself on live television, and your first instinct was to—what? Run straight into the enemy’s arms?”

“It wasn’t like that—”

“Oh, really?” He scoffed. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you couldn’t wait to ditch Red Bull for our biggest rival.”

You clenched your jaw, frustration bubbling in your chest. “Dad, seriously?”

But he wasn’t done. “Do you have any idea how this makes me look? How it makes the team look? My own daughter, parading around in Mercedes gear like she’s one of them—”

“Okay, first of all? Parading is a stretch,” you snapped. “Second, maybe instead of worrying about your precious reputation, you could ask if I’m okay?”

Christian exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re fine.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Wow. Thanks, Dad. Great to know my well-being is second to your ego.”

Before Christian could spit another sharp reply, a familiar arm draped over your shoulders.

“Everything alright here?”

Kimi.

You didn’t even have to look to know he was enjoying this. His voice was calm, but you could feel the smug energy radiating off him.

Christian’s entire body tensed immediately. His glare shifted from you to Kimi, eyes narrowing into dangerous little slits.

“Why the hell are you touching my daughter?”

Kimi didn’t move his arm. In fact, you swore his grip tightened slightly—just to piss Christian off more. “Problem?”

Christian’s gaze flickered between the two of you, realization dawning fast. “No,” he muttered, voice cold. “Tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

You sighed, leaning a little further into Kimi’s side. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“If you think Kimi and I have been seeing each other for a while now… then, yeah. It’s exactly what you think.”

Christian just stared. You could see the gears turning in his head, but whatever response he wanted to throw at you never made it past his lips. He just inhaled sharply, turned on his heel, and walked away without another word.

You blinked. “Okay, that was… unexpected.”

Kimi chuckled, finally turning to you. “I was expecting more yelling.”

“Same.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I give it ten minutes before he finds a camera crew to rant to.”

“Should we place bets?”

You laughed, leaning into him a little more. “I’d rather not lose money today.”

Kimi just smiled, pressing a light kiss to your temple. “Guess we don’t have to keep it a secret anymore.”

“Guess not.”

You exhaled, glancing down at the Mercedes shirt again. “You know, the worst part is, I actually like this shirt.”

Kimi smirked. “You should keep it.”

You grinned, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Might as well. Red Bull’s probably already burning my team kit.”

And honestly? You didn’t even care.

Taglist: @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @greantii @norstappenvibes @mary-op81 @Karmahnicolas @nichmeddar @honethatty12 @mynameisangeloflife

[theresattrpgforthat]

SYSTEM OVERVIEW: Powered by the Apocalypse (PbtA).

This week I’m taking a break from my regular recommendation posts to talk about some indie ttrpg systems that have gained some well-deserved attention over the years. I’m going to introduce you to how they work, why I like them, and what kinds of games are out there!

Powered by the Apocalypse is often described by its progenitor as a game philosophy more than a game system. If you want to learn about the ins and outs of Vincent Baker’s thoughts on this game philosophy, I recommend looking at his series of blog posts about the system, starting here.

There are a lot of things that can be housed within the family of PbtA games, but a game that advertises itself as Powered by the Apocalypse is probably going to have the following elements.

Moves

To do anything, PbtA games have a list of moves available to the whole party, and then certain moves specific to any given players. When you do something that fits the description of the move, you follow the move’s instructions.

Generally, this involves rolling 2d6 and adding a relevant modifier, somewhere between -1 and +3. The most common source of these modifiers comes from player stats, 3-5 player traits assigned to you during character creation that represent your strengths and weaknesses. These traits might be Cool, Sharp, and Hot, like in Apocalypse World, or Spirit, Wit and Heart, like in Thirsty Sword Lesbians, etc.

Other games use different sources of modifiers. In Apocalypse Keys, you’ll spend Tokens gained by roleplaying according to certain prompts, such as feeling lonely or forgotten. In Patchwork World, your modifiers depend on the moves your character takes. Can you become cats? When you burst into 1d6 cats, roll -CATS. Do you have Bee Resonance? You’ll roll +Stress marked.

Some moves might not even require you to roll dice - maybe you just have to use up a resource, or answer a question before that action happens.

Staggered Successes

PbtA games are not the only games to use this kind of metric, but they’re certainly the most well-known. When you roll dice in these kinds of games, there are generally three different kinds of results you can get: 7-9, 10 and higher, or 6 and below. Usually a 10 or higher allows something spectacular to happen, with a greater amount of narrative control given to the player. A 7-9 is partially successful: the player and GM will likely share narrative control. On a 6 or less, a significant amount of narrative control is given to the GM. 6 or less is usually seen as a turn for the worse, but what that turn looks like is dependant on the game and the genre.

What I like about these results is that regardless of the outcome, the results are meant to be narratively engaging, and push the story forward. Failing to sway the bartender doesn’t stop your plan in its tracks - it leads to the bartender calling forward security, or maybe calling you out on your shit. In a game like Last Fleet, these outcomes push the characters closer and closer to a meltdown. In Urban Shadows 1e, they encourage the characters to deal more intimately with favours and debt. Each outcome should propel you into another fraught situation.

Social Currency.

Having some kind of personal connection to other characters becomes a useful resource in many PbtA games. At the beginning of the game, you’ll answer leading questions that tie you to other characters, in both positive and negative ways. What exactly that personal connection is depends on the game.

In MASKS, your teenage superheroes have Influence over each-other. This Influence is either present, or it isn’t, but when it’s present, it can be spent to encourage other characters to follow your lead or your orders. In Blood Feud, you can look up to or down upon your fellow players, which will change the nature of how you interact with each-other. In Interstitial, you can spend Heart Links to improve your chances of success, adding modifiers to your roll.

I love these mechanics because they encourage the players to engage with each-other - and their interactions don’t have to always be positive either! Monster-Hearts expects your players to be at each-other’s necks just as often as they might be making out, for example.

Character Playbooks

Most, though not all, PbtA games have character playbooks - which may not feel like a novel thing, but it’s a big change for folks who are used to putting their character together from a list of options provided in a rulebook. Character playbooks usually provide all of the options for your specific character type on one page. You don’t choose from a big list: you choose a concept, and then select options from that concept.

Often concepts fill out tropes, such as the Git in Pigsmoke, or the Monstrous in Monster of the Week. These may come with pre-assigned stats, or ask you to assign certain stat values as you like. You’ll also choose playbook-specific moves, describe your character, and take note of special advances or forms of harm that may be incurred as you play. This harm might be physical, but it could just as easily be an emotional state, such as in Voidheart Symphony, where your character could become Angry, Callous or Scared.

What I like about this is that it can streamline character creation. If you’re a first-timer to PbtA you might need some guidance, but you can probably still knock out a character in under an hour. If you’re a veteran, you might be able to put a character together in a few minutes.

Collaborative World-building.

Any given PbtA game is usually inspired by a short list of media or some kind of genre. Brindlewood Bay is inspired by elderly lady detective fiction and eldritch horror. Sunset Kills is inspired by Buffy the Vampire Slayer and similar supernatural-teenager media. However, the specifics of what your group is doing still has to be determined by the group. This means that you’ll have to decide how you met, how you got here, and what the world around you is like.

For some games, like Legacy: Life Among the Ruins, the character choices you’ve made will determine facts about the end-of-the-world you live in. Did you pick titan-slayers? That means there’s titans walking around. Similarly in Comrades, if you pick the Propagandist, you have a newspaper or radio station as part of your rebellion.

I like about this because it affirms one of the core claims of PbtA: the game is a conversation. You begin your Session 0 sharing ideas as a group, with players having just as much say in the creation of the world as the GM. If you want to speed up the game, the GM may propose a setting to make things more specific. I’ve done this in the past with Wolf Hounds, which I wanted to make fit into my Monster Squad campaign last year.

However, even if the GM makes some decisions about the world, the choices the individual players will affect what parts of that world we’ll focus on. I feel like this experience gives a lot more agency to the players, so if you want to run a game but you don’t want to be responsible for everything that lands on the table, you might want to consider something Powered by the Apocalypse.

There are some elements of PbtA that can provide quite a bit of whiplash for new players. The game is very reactive, which means that it can be difficult for a traditional GM to figure out what to plan. Some games, like The Between, come with modules or adventures that can make it easier to ease into a GM-ing role. I’d also recommend checking out PbtA games that play in genres that both the GM and the group are very familiar with. If you like teenage superheroes, MASKS will probably be fairly easy to pick up. If you're familiar with found-footage horror, you might be more interested in Public Access.

I’ve talked about a number of PbtA games in the past. Let’s take a look at a few that I haven’t mentioned much.

City of Mist is a game by Son of Oak about ordinary people caught up in supernatural investigations as they grow to embody myths and legends.

Trespassers, by BoughandWave is a game about monsters in a wood - but you are not the scariest things in this forest.

Fight Item Run, by Whimsy Machine, is a game meant to replicate beloved video games about dungeons and magic.

A Monster's Tail, by Five Points Games, is an homage to monster catcher media, such as Pokemon, Digimon, and Jade Cocoon.

If you’re interested in PbtA games, you might also want to check out the collection of PbtA games that I’ve put together on Itch!

[secretsnowclub]

I found a weird old Gamecube survival horror game??? Can you help??

I’ve recently started collecting older video games, specifically all the survival horror games that I was too afraid to play as a kid. Now that I’m older and have a salaried job, it’s nice to be able to court that younger version of me and buy all the stuff my family couldn’t afford. Plus the games are fun. Everything from Resident Evil to Rule of Rose, Fatal Frame to Parasite Eve. I love being scared and these games work their hardest to do it and sometimes succeed.

Before I play them, I like to go on youtube and watch retrospectives, reviews, and old ads for them, so I can sort of get settled into the headspace and learn about the creation of them. But there’s one that I’ve stumbled on that I’m unable to find anything about. Almost like it came out of nowhere.

I found this game at a used game, movie, and music store just off the red line in Chicago. It’s called Soul Cemetery for the Gamecube. A survival horror game about a detective returning to their hometown to investigate the mysterious death of her father. It’s very obviously inspired by Resident Evil, featuring the tank controls, fixed camera angles, and similar graphics, not to mention the focus on zombies which wander the town. There’s also some Silent Hill influence with a heavy use of snow (instead of fog) and ambient music throughout. 

It seemed like a very generic sort of game after the opening cinematic and wandering around the opening area, but then it started to reveal itself as something more. The controls were straight forward but also had some interesting things about them. You aim and shoot like in RE, but there’s also a button to “hum,” which makes the detective slow her run to a walk and hum a tune, which changes with each area and sometimes changes within each area depending on exactly where you stand. 

There’s also a dedicated “smoke” button, which plays a unique (albeit short) cutscene where the detective smokes a cigarette and says a little something about the area, or what just happened. It almost feels like the journal mechanic that games like Life is Strange have, where the character recaps the last chapter in their own words, only you get to control when it happens and how often. 

Both of these things kinda took me off guard and drew me into the game in a way I didn’t expect. There are no save rooms or safe rooms like in a lot of survival horror games, so these two things were like getting a break for the spooky scary stuff whenever I needed it, while also getting to hear the thoughts of the character. 

This got kinda freaky when the detective started saying things about me during these moments. The game must read your memory card and system data or something because the further I got into the game, whenever she’d smoke she’d say stuff to me about how late I was up, or about the weather (possibly reading the month??? Idk if Gamecubes have location data). In the light of day these things aren’t that scary ig, but after getting killed by zombies after playing till 4 a.m. it was definitely giving me goosebumps.

It was extra creepy when the detective would do these things without being prompted. The further I got into the game, the more she would indulge in humming or smoking without me pressing the buttons. At first I thought maybe my hand slipped, but no, it’s almost like she has a mind of her own. And these self-indulgent moments were often the scariest.

I played through the entire thing in one sitting, it was maybe 5-6 hours. There were some obvious levels included in a lot of survival horror games, like a spooky motel with zombies, a dark forest with this weird moon spirit creature who is like the main bad guy of the game, and an empty town center where there’s a boss battle. About halfway through, the detective finds herself at her childhood home and that’s when shit really started to freak me out. I don’t know how to explain it other than her house had the same layout as mine? Maybe it’s just a coincidence because the game takes place in an unnamed midwest town, and maybe the houses here are just copy-pasted anyways. But it was spooky. Her living room was my living room, her bedroom was mine, the kitchen was mine. Even the spooky stairway into the basement was in the same place. 

Back in her parents room, her mom is a zombie. There’s no music. Just the looped MP3 of the zombie groans. Whenever you press the button to aim, the detective would hesitate and tell me not to do it. It was only after the mom had attacked and killed me once that I could actually return to the room and shoot the zombie. Immediately after, the detective took control and started humming this really broken, solemn tune. It felt so recognizable but I can’t figure it out. I did my best to record it here:

It’s been stuck in my head ever since.

After the run in with the mom zombie, the detective continues humming that tune, allowing me to walk slowly through the house. I returned to her bedroom and was able to “interact” with her childhood bed. The detective climbs in, the humming breaking up more and more until she falls asleep.

There’s a few esoteric and surreal images that flash on the screen. I didn’t expect them, so I couldn’t take pictures, and when I went and played through the game again, this entire section didn’t happen. Idk if it’s just like the order of events was different, or if it was how I killed the mom or how I explore after? Idk. But the images were these brutal close-ups of the mom zombie. Like, real photos, not just rendered. There were startling, and even if I can’t get them to pop up again, I feel like they’re still fresh in my mind.

The detective wakes up in her childhood bedroom after a second and is different. She’s a child. Her character model is smaller, she doesn't have her gun, and her entire control scheme is different. Most of the buttons are replaced with the “hum” thing, which has her doing that same haunting hum from before. As a child, she can still wander around the rest of the town, and it’s still overrun with zombies, now there’s just noway for her to defend herself.

I felt kind of stuck and frustrated with this as the zombies kept killing me and I didn’t like hearing the MP3 child scream over and over again, so eventually I turned the Gamecube off and on, and when the game loaded up, the detective woke up in her childhood bed as an adult, like none of that stuff happened. I was able to continue the game but was unable to beat the final boss. I think there was something I had to do as a child to be able to? But I don’t know. The game was very confusing at that point and, like I said, when I tried to replay it, the child-thing didn’t even happen. 

I think if the game has a guide or even just, like, any information online I could have made sense of it. It’s a weird take on survival horror that really did get under my skin, I just wish I could finish it, or at least figure out what some of the weird stuff in it was doing or trying to do. If you played this game when you were younger, were there any guides you followed? Or do you remember anything? The only thing I was able to find was a shitty scan of the game manual, but even that I’m having a hard time deciphering…

Any help is appreciated!

[luckyreds]

All about Elmer Muck Sr.

Never let your wife & kids keep you from meeting your lover- Elmer Muck probably

I was slowly accumulating all my info on Skip’s dad into one post, but it became two (maybe three who knows), because it was getting too long. A huge shoutout to @bleedingcoffee42 for helping me find Elmer’s draft card, more Cecelia information and a lot more!  

So, when I was looking up Skip’s findagrave (as you do) I noticed something strange. The woman mentioned to be his mother, one Cecelia A. Muck, wasn’t the same one I came across in the newspapers. I already thought it was strange, as Cecelia was born in 1906, meaning she would’ve been 15 when Skip’s older brother Elmer Jr. was born. Which, could be possible, but considering Skip’s dad, Elmer sr. would’ve been 21, I certainly hoped it was a mistake. and it was!

So diving into the archives I quickly discovered that his first wife, and mother of his children, was one Loretta Bessinger, born in 1897. Here they are first mentioned together in the newspapers:

They get married two years later, October 23rd 1919, It might have been a “Must-have” marriage as we call in my language because Elmer junior in born on March 29th 1920, meaning Loretta was about 4 months pregnant with Elmer by the time they got married:

Here they are on January 1st 1920, Loretta and Elmer Sr. living together with Elmer’s parents Julia and Julius Muck, his older sister Emma and younger sister Alice.

After Elmer jr. they have two more kids, Warren “Skip” Muck and Ruth Muck, in 1922 and 1923. here's Skip's birth announcement! (sadly none of Ruth)

now, "some" backstory on Elmer, during the early 20s, he’s a volunteer firefighter, (just like his dad used to be), his father, Julius was a farmer alongside a firefighter. Elmer was working at a shop. (as seen in the 1920 census & his ww1 draft card)

Elmer seems to be hopping jobs every now and again. At 16 he starts a greenhouse. Which only lasts a year, from what I could find.

He also starts performing music at parties for friends (playing the accordion), He must’ve had some talent, because he gets asked to perform quite a lot in his teens, (and starting again in his twenties)

He later decides to leave his family to pursue a music career, whether that was his real reason is debatable. (more on that later in my second post.)

Circling back to his ACTUAL job, in 1924, Elmer decides to buy a corner lot in Wendelville, where he will build a garage. And quickly goes looking for a mechanic.

Garage announcement on 7 feb 1924

After opening the garage he has weekly ads in the paper, (here's an example)

He also hires his brother in law, Hugo Bessinger, as an auto mechanic. He’s in charge when the garage gets broken into in October 1925.

So despite the break-in, things seem to going peachy in the Muck household. Until 1926, where Elmer starts getting sued and starts suing. A lot. Until he has to sell the Muck farm. I’ll post them here, now let me clarify, I have no idea what this man was doing end up here. Anyone with a smidgen more knowledge on economics and legal business etc could probably tell you more.

which leaves us in 1927. which I'll cover in my second post, simply because I reached my photo limit🤧coming to you soon!

[nexstage]

Chapter 1: 72 hours

Inspired by @blabberoo GF’s AU

YOU'RE MY PROPERTY. DON'T FORGET IT. The hillbilly abandoned you, your father won't want you returning without millions, you have no friends, and if you died out here in the snow, who would even miss you? Turn on the portal. I’VE WAITED TOO LONG FOR THIS. BY THE WAY, I’M SENDING SOMEONE TO STEAL YOUR EYES. THAT'S NOT A JOKE. I HAVE A FRIEND THAT WILL STEAL. YOUR EYES. You have 72 hours. Don’t cross me again.

It was over. So. Fucking. Over!

3 days. He was given 3 days to choose between losing his sight and being tortured to the point of madness, or plunging his home dimension to an unthinkable catastrophe and falling into maddening torture anyway. What the hell?! Who would give this kind of choice?! Oh wait, Bill would! And if that wasn’t bad enough, he had to be the perfect pawn to do his bidding!

He should’ve listened to the cave warnings! He should’ve listened to Fiddleford!

What was he supposed to do now?!

His nearly-shattered mind urged him to pack his stuff and run away. Leave everything behind and start anew somewhere else. But then what? He had put all his efforts into the unknown and weird, it was something he was passionate about. Gravity Falls had the biggest amount of supernatural phenomena and creatures; by living in another place, he would be throwing away years of research. Unless he decided to publish the paper Fiddleford wrote for him it wouldn’t be the same if he settled in another town.

By doing this, Bill would be kicking him out of his own home! The nerve he had to act this way!

Never put all your eggs in the same basket. That was a phrase he should’ve taken into account when Bill told him about the portal when Fiddleford started to suspect. So much research, sleepless nights, and enthusiasm wasted on a pipe dream that was just a plan from a cliche overlord!

Who should he call? Fiddleford might be on Palo Alto as far as he is concerned. The townsfolk of Gravity Falls weren’t the most intelligent, any of them could call the police, and then the government would lock him up! Maybe his family? But would Pa or Ma believe him? What about Shermie? Or maybe Stanley? No, no. Why Stanley? What if he ruined everything again like in the science fair?

Only he remained and he barely trusted himself. What should he do?! There must be a way to eliminate Bill or at least contain him.

“The cave paintings! Maybe they have the answer!” Good idea! Why not? If they warned him about Bill, that means they must have a clue to get rid of that demon.

His legs sprinted towards the door. There was no time to waste.

++++++++++++++

The first time he saw the cave paintings detailing Bill’s summoning circle and the warnings against it, Ford, regrettably, ignored them and found a way to reverse the “mechanics”, for a lack of a better word, of said spell which led to his first meeting with him.

Reading, and checking over the instructions and warnings several times didn’t appease his anxiety just added to his regret. Frustrations accumulated for trusting the wrong person bubbled to the surface as he screamed in the lonely cave, kicking the walls, almost breaking in pieces the flashlight to vent out his emotions.

There should be something here that could help him. There must be! Wasting time was a big no, trusting his research to someone else was a terrible idea! Think, Stanford Filbrick Pines! Think!

His eyes scanned for the nth time the paintings with Bill, the instructions, the warnings, as he recalled all the events that resulted in his fateful meeting with that demon. Had he done something that perhaps might have affected the power of the spell? No. He was settling in, then he began investigating the anomalies. During the summoning? He didn’t have powers, he didn’t feel any different when trying that summoning circle. He just reversed the original’s “mechanics”.

“Reversing it…” Mumbling those words, Ford’s stressed mind illuminated thanks to an epiphany. A pretty simple but crazily risky epiphany. What if he could reverse the whole system of the portal in a way that could prevent Bill from escaping? But escaping from what exactly? Death? Isn’t that what he deserves for everything he has put him through including his plan of conquering Earth?

However, could a reverse-engineered portal be powerful enough to kill someone like Bill Cipher? What if he evaded the shot? What if he was immune to it? Heck, what if the machine gave him more power than what he had already?

He mustn’t miss this. His foolishness had endangered the world too much for another failure to be the cherry on the top. Either this plan killed Cipher or at least imprisoned him.

Then a new doubt crossed his mind. Would the portal be able to trap the demon once he reverse-engineered it? He could try—

No no! Screw trying! It was his duty. He couldn’t fail. Success was a must!

He had a clue on how to defeat him, all that was left was to work on it, perfect it to a t.

++++++++++

His bag pack had everything he thought thrice he would need: the last leftovers of food and cereal, a bottle of water, his crossbow, a notebook and a pen, the flashlight, the journals, and the blueprints of the portal.

His destination: Crash Site Omega.

The number of hours there: 7 maximum. Rest was forbidden.

The task of reverse-engineering the portal might require new parts, circuits, and much more fuel to empower it. A highly advanced core that could withstand whatever attack that monster had in mind if he retaliated.

Ford slammed the door behind him. The weather roared at him, freezing air, white snow, and gray sky. None of that foretold anything good. It didn’t matter. He would fulfill this duty even if it killed him. The world needed it and so did he.

[queenofcats17]

The Ink Demonth 6

Today's theme is Drop.

================================================

A drop in the ocean is seldom seen again. That was what Allison had said to him, wasn't it?

A part of him couldn't help but envy those who could disappear into the ink like that. He knew how devastating it could be to have no memories and no identity, but he yearned for a moment when he would no longer be burdened by the knowledge of the situation he was in. The other ink creatures received some brief respite from the horrors of the studio when they entered the puddles. Some period of time when they weren't fighting for their lives at all times.

Henry received no such rest.

Even during the peaceful times with Boris in the safe house or confined in the cell in Allison and Tom's hideout, he was painfully aware of when it would all end. Those moments were never true breaks, only brief lulls between the moments of terror that had defined his existence for so long. Maybe that was why he hadn't tried to escape from the cell those strange creatures had put him in. There was no story for him to follow here. No expectations looming over him. He could finally rest for once.

The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him. He was stuck in captivity while being freer than he'd been in ages.

"Little sheep..." Sammy's voice jolted him from his thoughts.

"Yes?" He turned toward the glass, despite knowing that Sammy couldn't see him from his cell.

"...Why is it that you haven't tried to escape, little sheep?" Sammy's voice sounded small, unsure. Henry had never heard him sound that way before.

"I could ask you the same, Sammy." Henry scooted his stool closer to the glass of the cell window.

Sammy was silent for a moment or two before responding. "I... Cannot use my powers to escape through the puddles. And I lack the... mechanical knowledge that the false angel utilized to free herself."

"Well." Henry leaned his head against the glass. "I don't have powers or mechanical knowledge. How do you think I'm supposed to get free?"

Sammy made a frustrated noise. "Because you're different. You've always been different. I don't know how you would do it but I know you could escape if you truly wanted to."

"Maybe I don't want to escape, then."

Sammy was silent again. When he spoke once more, his voice was once again small. "Why would you want to stay here?"

Henry let out a long exhale. "Because I'm tired, Sammy."

"Tired?" Sammy echoed.

"Yes, tired."

"I suppose the constant fight for survival in this place can be... exhausting," Sammy conceded.

"Something like that." Henry didn't have the energy to explain the whole story at the moment. Not to mention, Sammy wasn't one of the ones who remembered the Cycle. Explaining the fact that there was a Cycle would be tiring enough, let alone explaining Henry's role in it.

Some nervously plucked notes made their way to Henry's ears. So Sammy was playing again. He'd been playing off and on since he'd been put in his cell. Henry rather enjoyed listening to it. While he could remember Sammy's playing, he knew those memories weren't really his. He'd never heard Sammy play before.

"I... am sorry," Sammy suddenly said.

"Huh?" Henry frowned and sat up. "Why are you sorry?"

"I... know there is much about our world I do not understand," Sammy said slowly. "And while I do not entirely know what your role is, I know that whatever weighs on your mind is heavy indeed."

Henry gave a weak laugh, letting his head rest against the glass again. "You have no idea."

"Therefore," Sammy continued. "I offer you my sincerest apologies for whatever it is you are burdened with."

"Thanks, Sammy. I appreciate it." Henry allowed himself a small smile.

"You are most welcome," Sammy said before pausing and quietly adding, "Henry."

Henry's breath caught in his throat. When was the last time he'd heard Sammy call him by his name?

"Thanks," he repeated quietly.

Neither of them spoke after that, the only sound filling their lonely cells being the sound of Sammy's banjo playing. Henry closed his eyes, letting himself be carried away by the music. When he finally fell asleep, he dreamed of being faceless and anonymous.

Just another drop in the ocean.

[strangeracrossthestreet]

PMMM x DBD perks? It's more likely than you think.

I've always wanted to do this.

It's going to be less game mechanic oriented and more actual in-world consequences. With some added spice~

Mami:

Connections: You would have lost your mind long ago if not for them. 

During the trial, you always seem to have a hunch on where to go in order to find them; so long as they are close enough. When one dies, your paranoia sharpens and you can guess better where the rest are. If it is only you and one other left, you will know with certainty where they and the Killer are at all times.

No other choice: Where are they? Where are they, where ARE THEY—

If you are the only one left alive, The Entity will permit you to end the trial early. It is never painless, but at least it is by your own hand.

Showstopper: You remember you used to be quite famous.

If you are with one or more of them, you feel invigorated. You are faster and stronger, you remember how to fix those damn generators that much faster. You can taunt the Killer into coming for you over them.

Kyoko:

Fires of the past: You can still smell the stench of burning skin.

During the trial, you can always find that blasted safe house no matter how much it moves around. It always has something useful inside of it. If you are together with the rest, you may choose to barricade inside of it.

God or Devil?: He would have looked upon you in horror as you are now...

The Killer is less inclined to hurt you. You can use it to your advantage, or perhaps, you can lead it to your so-called friends instead.

Hypocrite: Their screams haunt your dreams. 

You feel hate coursing through you when someone is hurt in close proximity to you. Attack the Killer and save them, then try to save yourself.

Sayaka:

Hero Complex: It has to be you.

So long as you are alone, you do things faster. You may purposefully alert the Killer to your location, regardless of distance.

Kin Killer: They all deserved it.

If your friends' blood is on your hands, your mind cracks. You can take the Killer's hits better than anyone. You might even hurt it back...

Best Friend: Ahahah, you want to make a pinky promise? Isn't that a little childish—

If Madoka is in danger, you will instantly know. If you manage to take a hit for her, the relief of it will dull the pain and your presence will give her the needed boost to run faster. So long as she lives, you will continue to protect her.

Madoka:

Hope is unyielding: We had a life before this. We can have it again.

Your presence is a comfort and you do a fine job of managing their stress so they do not break mentally. Their injuries will stitch themselves closed faster. It hurts, but it is better than bleeding out. 

At least you always have bandages on you.

Ignorance is bliss: I'll tell you when you're older. Maybe over a drink?

The Killer has a hard time finding you, but that applies to you as well. You will never know where it is until it is too late. 

Perhaps it is for the better.

Beyond Death: Sometimes you don't feel real.

Once sacrificed, you may still make yourself a nuisance. Find a way to protect your friends from beyond as you watch them scurry around like ants.

The Entity finds your struggles amusing.

Homura:

Timeless: It feels as if you haven't left that horrible place.

Once per trial, you may look at The Entity in all its transcendent glory and beg for a restart. They won't remember the pain and terror.

But you will.

What's in a memory: Hey, are you even listening to me— 

You remember the layouts of the places you have been thrown in better than most. It makes scavenging much easier, and it lessens the burden on the others for finding clothing that isn't' falling apart at the seams. Food and water isn't so easy to come by but you continue searching anyway.

The Favorite: ...oh god...oh god—

You know what Killer will be hunting you the moment you awaken. Its powers are weaker against you and it knows.

It looks at you with disgust and hate, and hunts you relentlessly.

[artisans-digital]

Fit-Out Solutions for Co-Working Spaces: What Makes Them Work?

Walk into a co-working space in Doha. Pause. You’ll notice something right away — it doesn’t feel like a typical office. There’s life in the layout. The colors are bold, but not too loud. Desks aren’t just desks — they’re part of a bigger experience.

So, what’s the secret? It’s not just nice furniture or an espresso machine in the corner. It’s the fit-out. And trust me, that changes everything.

In today’s fast-evolving work culture, especially here in Qatar, the success of co-working spaces depends on how well they’re designed — and more importantly, how well they function.

Let’s break it down.

Why Co-Working Is More Than a Trend in Qatar

Qatar’s startup scene? It’s booming. Young founders. Freelancers. Remote tech teams. They all want the same thing — a space that feels like theirs. Somewhere they can work, meet, breathe. Somewhere they belong.

This is where co-working shines. And the design behind these spaces? It needs to do more than just “look good.” It should think for its users.

Fit-Out: It’s the Backbone

A co-working space without a thoughtful fit-out is like a car with no engine. It might look great, but it won’t go far.

“Design drives function. A smart layout, the right light, and adaptable furniture — these aren’t luxuries. They’re necessities.” — Yousef Al-Kuwari, Interior Architect, Doha

Here’s what a solid fit-out covers:

Interior layouts that flow

MEP systems (Mechanical, Electrical, Plumbing)

Lighting that adapts to mood and task

Noise control (so people can think)

Spaces that shift — depending on need

The right fit out company in Qatar knows how to blend all that. Smoothly. Seamlessly.

The Secret Sauce: What Makes It All Work

1. Layout That Adapts

People in co-working spaces don’t want to be boxed in. One day it’s solo work, the next — a brainstorming session with five others.

Smart fit-out idea: Use movable walls. Foldable furniture. Think zones, not cubicles.

2. Light That Feels Right

Natural light is gold. But even artificial lighting, if done right, can make a place feel alive.

Take this: A co-working hub in Lusail used motion-based lighting to save energy. They worked with a local fit-out team. The result? Warm, welcoming spaces during the day. Focused, cooler tones in private pods by night. Members noticed. And they stayed.

3. Keep It Quiet (When Needed)

Noise — it’s the enemy of focus. And in a shared workspace? It spreads fast.

Fit-out fix: Soft panels. Carpets that absorb. Private booths for calls. Meeting rooms that don’t leak sound. It’s not about killing all noise. It’s about controlling it.

4. Bring Nature Inside

Plants aren’t just pretty. They heal. Boost focus. Make people stay longer without realizing.

Example: One co-working space in The Pearl added a living wall — just greenery on a vertical panel. Simple change. Big reaction.

5. Branding That Talks Without Talking

Every wall, every corner should whisper your brand. Maybe not shout — but it should speak. Color schemes, artwork, signage — it all tells your story.

“People connect with stories. Your space should be one.” — Rania Farhat, Brand Strategist, Qatar

A sharp fit out company in Qatar gets this. They design with your identity in mind — not just the floor plan.

Real Story: A Qatar-Based Co-Working Brand Got It Right

There’s this co-working spot in Lusail. Small team, big vision. They wanted more natural light, better flow, and eco-friendlier systems.

They hired a local fit-out team. The changes?

Switched to energy-saving lights

Redesigned open areas with modular desks

Added acoustic panels (game-changer, really)

Installed greenery across the shared zone

Six months later? A 35% jump in occupancy. Members said it “felt like home, not work.” That’s the power of design.

FAQs

Q: How long does a fit-out take for co-working spaces in Qatar?

A: Depends on the scope. Usually between 2–6 months. Some go faster, especially if the space is already partially set.

Q: Do I really need a professional fit-out company?

A: You can try doing it alone, sure. But with pros, you’ll save time, avoid mistakes, and end up with a space that works. Inside and out.

Q: Can I renovate in stages?

A: Yep. Many places do it phase by phase. It helps manage budget and keeps the space running during the updates.

Choosing the Right Fit-Out Partner in Qatar

So, you’re sold on fit-outs. Good. But don’t rush. Choose a team that:

Knows commercial spaces

Has local experience in Qatar’s laws and design codes

Offers both design and build services

Actually listens to what you want

A good fit-out company won’t just build your space. They’ll build your brand into it.

Final Thoughts

Co-working spaces in Qatar are more than a real estate trend. They’re culture hubs. Innovation centers. Launchpads for the next big thing.

But for all that potential to shine, the fit-out has to work hard behind the scenes.

Great lighting. Flexible layouts. Natural materials. Sound balance. Brand story. It’s a recipe — and every part matters.

If you’re dreaming up your next co-working venture or reviving your current one, don’t treat design as an afterthought. It’s your foundation.

Need help with a custom space in Qatar? Partner with a fit out company that gets co-working — gets your vibe — and turns your vision into reality.

[catboybiologist]

Reblogging to my primary blog, and adding a bit of commentary. I want to keep hi-sierra as "uncluttered" as possible, so its easier to find stuff

Am I evil for ending on a bit of a cliffhanger? Maybe. I have a good plan for the rest of "chapter 1", if you can call it that, and that'll probably be the first clean stopping point.

Also, PLEASE give me critique and feedback on this! I'd love to write more stuff, and I wanna know if I'm doing things nicely! Even down to the way I format dialogue, Rosie's panels, and in general, the writing mechanics of how I represent the story.

On that note, a weird, cobbled together string of tumblr posts... isn't the most efficient way to post this. If anyone has any recommendations for a way to post and link my stories instead of using this weird format, I'd love to hear it!

I'm so sorry this took so long! @godless-of-the-hunt, thank you SO much for your donation to make this happen, and I'm so sorry for a late delivery. I'm brutally realizing that managing side projects while working on my PhD work is very taxing on my time and energy. I'll absolutely continue working on stuff like this, but I am NOT setting any more deadlines for myself while I still have my day job to think about.

@k1nky-r0b0t-g1rl, I'm sure you'll wanna take a look here as well LOL

I have SO many side project and story ideas. I'll keep working on them now, but as I've mentioned, I'll be taking a hiatus from my PhD this summer. The way things are shaping up, I'll likely be getting most of the work done on those projects then. I have some kind of starting point or outlines for four different things right now- Biologics, Symphony of the Stars, a video essay or podcast about biology and gender, and another video essay or podcast idea that I can't even efficiently summarize.

I hate to shill, but if you want to be able to support me during this time, consider putting something into my ko-fi:

I'm a broke graduate student already, and I'll be forgoing my income for the summer to take a break and work on these kinds of things. Any bit helps.

Okay. I think that's all I have to say. Bbbyyyyeeeeee

And fuckit, I'm abusing the 196 tags for this. Look at my story, boy.

Biologics, chapter 0.5

Hello, hello! I finally have added a significant amount to my story, Biologics, resulting in a total of ~4400 words. Not a whole ton, I know, but unfortunately life gets to ya. It isn't quite where I want it to be to consider a proper chapter one, but I feel like there's enough written for me to post. General warning that this is intended to heavily lean into the theme of "eroticism of the machine", so if that doesn't appeal to you, you've been warned. It does, however, have many general sci fi worldbuilding elements, so I hope it has a somewhat broad appeal!

So yes, if you already read the first snippet, that's going to be mostly a one to one repeat with some grammatical adjustments. Feel free to scroll down until you get to the new stuff. Flow-wise, there just wasn't a good place to break between the two sections.

Look at me rambling. And I wonder why I can't get any of this stuff done. Anyways, here it is!

Biologics

Pappy always said that manufacturing biological transportation was nothing knew. I mean, shit, humanity's been breeding horses for how long? To him, not much was novel about what was going on in the shipyards way out by Neptune when I was a kid.

But Pappy didn't know a lot of things. And he certainly didn't meet Roseanna.

The Federation Navy had experimented with Biologics for decades. The idea was to create self regenerating ships- organic matter that interfaced with the hull, moving new titanium plates and patches into place down to microscopic precision. If you had a living, growing mass interfacing with steel, a ship didn't have to head all the way back to the yards to patch up after every dogfight.

The first generation... worked. With a full time crew, that is. Full time people on deck jabbin the rigid, chitonous matrix full of growth hormones to get them to set just right. Full time onboard bioengineers to compute what signaling cocktail ya need to hit 'em with to get it to grow back right. Skilled onboard technicians to shave back the chitin when it tried to overgrow the titanium, and slap some new cells in to seed the process in heavily damaged areas. Less input material, less time in the yards, but far more manpower. Great for a Federation cruiser on deep space peacekeeping missions. Far too complex for small craft. Right?

Until some bastard put brains in 'em.

Well. A lotta suits would say that they weren't brains. They were a diffuse network of sensory neurons and ganglia, living inside the body of the ship, integrating signals from a skin of alloyed metal and fibrous protein, calculating power draw too and from various components, integrated with the mechanical and electrical components of the ship to precisely manage the "wound healing" process of the vessel. And of course, it just so happened that one of those ganglia was larger and more complex than the rest of them, and it just so happened that the computer interfaces with this ganglia exhibit complex, thinking behaviors on the level of human cognition, and it just so happens that most pilots and navigators reported them developing their own personalities.....

But of course, the Navy didn't want anyone to have some kind of pesky empathy in the way of their operations. And they certainly didn't want anyone side eyeing the rate at which they disposed of the damn things, just to let them suffer and rot. So as far as the official record was concerned, they weren't brains. But I knew different.

Like most people in the belt, I found Rosie on an... unsponsored field trip to the Neptune scrap yards. She wasn't a ship then. She wasn't much of anything. Not much more than a vat with the central ganglia and just barely enough of the stem cells needed to regrow a network. But I took her all the same. Brains were valuable. Few pilots outside the Navy had them back then. Nowadays, a black market for "brain seeds", a cocktail of neuronal stem cells and enough structural stem cells to grow your own into the chassis of your ship, was thriving. The Navy was pumpin' em out, and leaving them to die. It was cruel. Sometimes, being scavenged and resold was a kinder fate. But more often, some nasty piece of work would pick them up eventually, and treat them like just another goddamn ship. They may be vehicles, but they're a livin' being too.

I digress. I'd never do that to Roseanna. I make sure she gets proper care. And for a good, proper, working ship? That includes some good, proper work.

The asteroid we were docked in was one of my usuals- good bars, nice temp quarters, nice views of the rock's orbiting twin, and a spacious hanger for Rosie to rest in. The chassis I had imprinted Roseanna to was a 40-meter light skipper, with some adjustments for handling deep space trips, as well as some... personal touches. It was pretty much the smallest thing you could actually use to live in and work for long periods of time, but it got the job done. The angular design made the entire ship look like a wedge, or the blade of a bulky dagger. It didn't hurt that each bottom edge was fortified with a sharpened titanium blade, turning the entire sides of the ship into axe-like rams.

Those would probably come in handy today.

I approached Roseanna on the catwalk above her, marveling her alloyed scales. I could almost see her shudder in anticipation as my footsteps vibrated through the air above her. I took the steps down, and hit the trigger to open her top hatch.

When the news got out of the Navy scuffling with a rebelling mining station, an electric air raced across the station. Some went about their day as normal. Some resigned themselves to picking at the leftovers after the dust had settled. And some, like me, knew that they could get the finest pickings.

I slipped into the pilot's seat like it was an old boot.

"Welcome, Captain Victoria."

Rosie could talk, but more often than not, she chose not to. But she understood me just fine. Most of our communication took place using her three prerecorded lines- her welcome statement, affirmative, and negative- as well as a tiny screen showing a small, emoticon face. Many pilots chose to give their ships an elaborate render, but Rosie preferred it this way. It was the first face I gave her, from somewhere out of the scrap heaps, and she refused any offer I made to upgrade. Hell, she even had a hi-res screen for external cameras and comms, but she refused to interface directly with it. Secretly, I was overjoyed. To me, the little pixelated screen was her face. That was her voice. And it was beautiful to see her true self through them.

I brushed my hands across her paneling. Across the switches, the hydraulic controls for the plasma fuel, the steering, the boosts, the comms channels. The thing with Biologics was that you were still the pilot. For whatever reason, they hadn't quite gotten to the point where the brains could take over their own piloting. My personal opinion was just that their personalities lacked the ambition to. Cuz they certainly could take over some ships functions directly, and had the skill to do complex mechanical and electrical tasks. The Navy never let 'em drive, though, and most pilots didn't even know they could give them the ability to control any of the ships functions directly. But with a little help, a little bit of solid engineering, and a pilot that knew their ship... well, you could do a lot. And me and Rosie? We knew each other well. Over the years, I'd added some nice things for her, and she loved using them to help me out.

As my fingers touched the brushed aluminum controls, rimmed with chitinous layers affixing them to the ship, I could feel the walls around me holding their invisible breath. "Do you know what we're doing today, Rosie?"

Her tiny panel flickered on.

[...?]

"We got a scrap run."

[ ^_^]

[ :) ]

[ ^_^ ]

Her panel flicked between various expressions of excitement. My finger quivered on the main power, holding for a moment before flicking it on. The primary electronics of the ship hummed to life, and the parts Rosie controlled pulsed with it. My hands moved across the main functional panels- main hydraulic plasma valve, exhaust ports open, and finally, flicking the switch the start the plasma burner.

My hands gripped the steering. The hanger's airlock doors opened in front of me. My neck length hair started to float as the station's gravity shut off. I hit the switch to unlatch from the supports above. For a moment, we hang there. The dull crackle of the idling plasma burner is the only sound that resonates through Rosie's hull.

Go time. I punch the boost.

The station shakes. Rosie was never a subtle one.

The mechanics are deafened.

The crowd of spectators are deafened.

The other pilots in the hanger are deafened.

But me? The vibrations of Rosie's hull shuddering under me was the sweetest symphony my ears ever had the pleasure of hearing. As we shot out of that hanger, I found myself involuntarily humming a high note, harmonizing with the sweet rumble of my baby's acceleration as we shoot out into the inky, black expanse of space. The twin asteroids shot by us as we disappeared, leaving only the faint blue plasma trail from our engines.

My hand is firm on the boost, weathered hands tightly gripping the bar of the accelerator. I remember installing this thing in her- it was an aftermarket adjustment, not included in the usual light skipper chassis. Gently stripping away the back of her chassis, caressing her insides as I rooted the paneling, firmly attaching the tanks and burners on her insides... these hands had taken great pleasure in that. Bested only, of course, by the first time I had felt the thing roar to life.

And what a feeling it was. Rosie's entire chassis, biological and mechanical, shuddering under my grasp. The grip of my calloused hands on the boost controls, tight and sweaty around the ridged grip of the horizontal bar. The noises she made, as if to shout in glee and wild abandon at being unchained and let loose into the eternal field of space, as she was made to do. The gentle touch of her skin on my back, my body pressed in contact with the small fraction of hers that was my seat. I glanced down at her face panel.

[ :| ]

[ :D ]

[ :| ]

[ :D ]

[ :| ]

[ :D ]

[ :| ]

[ :D ]

My humming gave way to a chuckle, and then a wholehearted, exhilarated laugh. Someone was enjoying herself. The flickering faces on her panel reminded me of the happily panting station dogs back on Mars.

But as much as I would like this to just be a joyride, I had promised Rosie a scrap run. And the pickings were looking good. I glanced down at the nav. I was intentionally headed at a slightly indirect angle- Rosie's boost was her main attractive feature (both as a ship, and as a working partner), and the extra leeway I had in travel time let me strategize a bit more. I doubted we would be the first people there, but I figured we could get in before the main rush. The only trouble was darting in and grabbing something right from under the noses of the first locusts. The scrap field in question included a disabled heavy mining freighter, a goliath of the ship larger than some of the asteroids it made supply runs between. I assumed that most other scavengers would be approaching directly from our station, and the other stations in its proximity. With Rosie's boost, we could overshoot, hook around, and put the freighter in between us and the guns of the more violent craft. Rosie has no long range weapons of any kind- not only would they slow down her miraculous speed, but she didn't like them. I tried installing a small plasma cannon once, and she expressed immense distaste. Maybe they were too brutish for her, or maybe she didn't like the way they felt inside her, burdening her with pressure from the inside that didn't befit the delicate touches I usually graced her with. Rosie loved speed, precision, elegance, and stealth above all else. It's just the kind of ship she was.

That's not to say she was a pacifist, or defenseless. Quite the contrary. She just prefers a more... personal touch.

The navicom beeped at me. We'd reached the point where we needed to make that hook. My bare feet gently swept across the titanium flooring to the steering pedals. My right hand delicately gripped the steering joystick, while my left eased its grip on the boost accelerator.

"Ready for this, darling?"

[ >:) ]

I slammed the steering to the left, and Rosie gleefully complied. The wide bank of the turn as we rotated and soared through the sea of stars twisted my body in its inertia, compressing me further into her. As the angle straightened out to the proper heading, I punched the boost again, and Rosie roared forward.

Slowly, our target came into sight. Damn. This thing had taken some serious damage. Mining freighters typically weren't heavily armored- their only job was to get material from point A to B- but this one had clearly been through some serious modifications. Modifications that now lay in ruin. Titanium plating was scattered in a field around the core of the freighter. I couldn't quite tell what was stuff left behind by the battle, and what was the result of shoddy craftmanship- but it didn't matter. What did matter was that the entire thing had been split almost in half, and the scattered cargo that was leaking out. Cargo that most likely included half the weapon supplies of this little rebel faction. Would fetch a pretty penny, to the right buyer. And hell, if it was just gonna sit here unclaimed...

Ah shit. It wasn't gonna sit here unclaimed. Despite my best efforts, it looks like we weren't the first ones here. A larger scavenger gang had already arrived, and it looks like it was one of the ones I knew- Augustus and his lot. Most likely, they'd be after the weapons intact, one more thing to use to shakedown the scattered independent stations I always flitted between. He would not be happy to see me n Rosie here. What he called his "fleet" was a single, mid-sized carrier ship, about half the size of the freighter we were looting, and the dozen or so scout fighters and strip mining crafts he had looted from the Navy and various corps, and one Biologic that he called his. I respect that part, to be honest. What I don't respect is him immediately turning around and using that charge every goddamn station his ever-increasing "protection fees". Not to mention my personal disdain for the way he treated his ship. Didn't even give her a damn name. I digress. But any chance to loot something from under that slimebag's nose was a win in my book. I knew he wasn't gonna make it easy, though.

Welp. That's what our positioning was for. The side facing us was the main starboard face, and like the rest of the ship, it was peppered in small holes and gashes. Seems like the main damage had happened from the other side, and a few cables and scaffolds on the starboard just barely kept the two rear cargo compartments clinging to the front.

"Alright Rosie, time to creep it in slow. Be quiet, now, don't want them picking up a plasma surge"

[ :| ]

Ha. That was her "my lips are sealed" face. She's having fun with this already.

I cut the booster, coasting closer and closer to the bust open vessel. I eased the reverse thrusters ever so slightly, my fingers gently stroking the dual brake levers, lightly teasing at them to wait until we were as close as I thought we could be without attracted attention.......... before slamming both sides back towards me. For just one, crucial moment.

The goal here was to approximately match the speed and trajectory of a floating piece of titanium plating. Rosie's frontal blades were essentially that, anyways, so all they would see is a somewhat more angular piece of rubble. Hopefully they hadn't seen that same piece of rubble screaming out of travel speed, but I was cautious enough with my distances that I didn't think that was a problem. And they hadn't seen me yet. Once we were close enough to the freighter itself, we were blocked from their raw sightline, and Rosie was running quiet enough to not tip off any of their energy sensors.

But there was still no guarantee. Rosie, however, had no shortage of tricks. Something that she and I had developed together was a nice little bit of snooping. Well cared for and well trained, a Biologic brain had the problem solving of a human, and the computational power of a machine. But them together, and you've got a perfect decoder. And I happened to know that Augustus used an encrypted local frequency to keep his

"Alright Rosie, thinkin you can eavesdrop a little?"

Affirmative.

[...]

[...]

[...]

[...]

[...]

[...]

[..!]

:D

My comms crackled to life. "...7 heavy cannons in center-front portside bay, 3 replacement fighter hatchs...."

The comms crackled back and forth, with each pilot giving updates to what they were finding in their own little segment that they were slicing apart. Occasionally, I saw Augustus or the fighters flick between the slicing ships, overseeing their progress on the port bays. Good. Let them focus on the other side for now. Slowly, the fleet was overshadowed by the freighter. We made it. I released my breath- shit, didn't realize I was holding it- and took a better look at what we were dealing with. It looked as if the scattered debris field had mostly been the remnants of the hull, as well as light weapons for small craft and even infantry. They would fetch some small change, sure, but Rosie's cargo capacity was small. Packing efficiency was the name of the game. I saw the gash that it had all been flooding out of on this side- the entire freighter was covered in them- and peered inside. And ho boy, did my heart flutter.

Heavy cannons.

Jump-graded travel boosters.

Raw, precious metals.

And, hidden in the back corner, seemingly bolted into the wall.... a brain.

We'd hit jackpot, and potentially rescued a poor ship from abandonment, or worse.

"Alright Rosie. Time to get to work."

Affirmative.

And here was another lil something that made Rosie special- her manipulation arms . She always preferred that delicate touch, and wanted to interact with the world in a tactile, real way. So we worked on it. Together. I was tired of taking spacewalks to grab small pieces of scrap, or using the entire goddamn cargo bay on a piece that only had a tiny core, or scraps of precious metals inside. So we needed something that could pluck apart our finds. Do some light disassembly in the field, extract what was valuable, and load it in with the most packing efficiency possible. So I gave her arms- snake like appendages, coiled up in her cargo bay, with thousands of points of articulation. At first, I tried to make some kind of control system that I could use from the cockpit. But Rosie had a different idea. At her urged, I jacked them directly into the same sensory and motor systems that let her grip onto, position, and repair her hull. And by god, it worked.

When I showed her off the first time, no one had ever seen anything like it. Because there was nothing like it. A ship taking real mechanical control, over something so precise and delicate, was something that only a deeply intelligent, deeply skilled ship, with complex decision making and tactile movement could do.

And I was goddamn proud of her.

Every time she deployed them, I watched awe. Rosie gave a face of determination, and sinuous, metallic, tentacle-like appendages slid out in a bundle from the cargo bay opening on her underside. Each one was headed off by a different attachment- a precision laser cutter, a simple three-pointed grabbing claw, a drill, a tiny buzzsaw, camera that let me see what was going on, and more. Each one could be swapped out, depending on the task at hand. With eight of them slithering out from her cargo bay, though, there was usually something for everything. They extended out as a single bouquet, down through the hole of the cargo compartment, and split apart once inside. Each arm got to work.

Her observation monitor flickered on, giving me a view from the camera arm. I would've liked to get the brain out first, but two heavy cannons and a booster blocking the way anyways. We'd cut through that, picking off the energy cores and precious metals in the circuits as we go, and work our way towards the back. Rosie seemed to like the plan as well. My only job was to watch the comms, and watch the sensors.

I watched the camera as the petite tools of the arms excised and picked apart the titanium shell of the first heavy cannon. Her tools- the delicate 'fingers' of her arms- picked, pulled, tugged, and gently gripped every necessary notch, every joined titanium plate that needed to be undone, ever scrap of precious material. Firm, yet precise. Strong, yet never breaking or mishandling a single piece of cargo. As Rosie worked, my eyes darted across the energy sensors. I could see blips firing off as the ships on the other side of the freighter as the slicing ships worked and flitted between their stations from the other side. The comms crackled with their reports to Augustus- they seemed to be moving back and forth to the main carrier to drop off their hauls. It seemed like they had a lot to go through- we'd have plenty of time.

On the camera view, I could see a grabbing claw retracting back through the cargo bay. The first cannon had the back section cleanly excised from the massive barrel and chassis, leaving a path for the tools to get to the booster. The precious energy cell was sliding its way back into Rosie's cargo bay. God damn. She was quick with that. The laser cutter and saw were already making short work of the booster, too. We'd get to the brain in no time.

The chatter on the other line continued. We were still safe, but Augustus' crew had made more progress than I had hoped. Once the slicers had picked apart the port, they'd loop around to the starboard. We had to grab what we could as fast as we can- but I knew neither me or Rosie was gonna leave without that brain. Rosie gracefully sliced the fuel cell and ignition from the plasma burner, leaving the bracketing and vents behind. The second heavy cannon was soon to follow. Each cut through each piece had left a winding path towards the back of the chamber, allowing a physical path to what I had seen just barely poking through: a container for a genuine ship's brain. Rosie slid her camera arm in for a closer look.

The brain was bolted into the chassis of the ship, as well as some containers of growth factor. Seemed like the intent was to grow her in to this freighter. That was certainly an ambitious task, but if they knew what they were doing, it would be well worth it. A self-repairing, intelligent hauler as large as this one would be the heart and soul of resistance movements everywhere, supplying every backwater mining station or moon that longed to be free. Unfortunately, the brave and principled can still be stupid, and these chucklefucks had no idea what they were doing. Slapped in a random cargo bay, desperately trying to get growth out from there with no proper imprinting guidance... shame. If they'd've found me before running into the Navy, I might've helped them out. But at least now, we could give her a better life. I knew a lot of good, caring pilots that would take loving care of a fine ship like her.

From what I could tell, we were still safe from Augustus. Based on what I was hearing on the comms, each slicer was working on its last cargo hold subsection, and after that, they'd be poking around this side. We had to get this brain and get out.

Tenderly, her claw arm gripped the top of the brain's chamber, as her other fingers started working on the rivets. A saw would bust through part of the titanium bracket holding the chamber down, and when it got too close to the container itself, laser cutters took over, delicately slicing off each affixation point one by one. Rosie worked in a clockwise direction, first working down the three riveting points on the right, sawing off the bottom bracket, and then working up the rivets on the left.

C'mon Rosie. You got this. Just need the top plate....

"Finishing up there, slicer 5T?"

Shit. That was Augustus on the comms.

"Sure thing boss. Just gotta get this load to central. Mind if someone takes a peek on the other side for parasites before I get there?"

Shit.

"Sure thing. Fighter 3A, get your ass in gear and make a full pass of the ship."

An energy spike pinged on my sensor panels as the fighter revved up a booster.

"Gotcha boss. Starting at aft segment."

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit

We still had a sliver of time before we were seen. They'd wanna get a good pass everywhere- there were ships far stealthier than us out there. But it was minutes at most. We had to finish up.

"Rosie, how're we doing there? You done?"

Negative.

[ ;( ]

"Fuck. Rosie, we gotta get outta here."

Affirmative. Affirmative. Affirmative. Affirmative.

Rosie-speak for "I know, I know, I know"

My eyes were fixed to the scanner and my cockpit windows for a visual, but I spared one moment to check Rosie's cam. She was finishing sawing through the top bracket. Just a little more....

"Aft clear, moving to starboard cargo bays."

The brain snapped off of the hull, and Rosie's claws were zipping it back to her cargo bay. I revved the engines into standby. The arms tenderly guided it through the path we had cleared, and out through the hole in the hull. We might be able to barely slip away without them knowing.....

I looked up through the cockpit, just as the dinged-up, formerly Navy fighter showed itself from behind a piece of debris. It froze for a moment, and then lined its nose to face me. Cannon ports shifted open, and slowly took aim.

"Well shit, Augustus, you're gonna wanna see this. Get your ass over here, I'm switching to public comms."

I heard slight fuzz as he switched his channel.

"Alright, leech, I'll keep this simple. You have thirty seconds to relinquish your haul before you join the debris."

For a single, cold moment, I swear I made eye contact with him through our cockpits.

[eightyonekilograms]

The parallels between finance and various engineering disciplines are always fascinating to me. It's uncanny the degree to which you can model finance as a complex distributed system like a power grid, including (or even especially) in how it breaks down. The breakdowns in finance are increasingly system accidents: the obvious failure modes are handled by regulations and safety systems, but the remaining ones are caused by emergent behavior in the interconnections between parts that often nobody even knew were connected. And a lot of times the safety systems for the well-understood failure cases make the unknown ones worse!

At dinner last night @keynes-fetlife-mutual's roommate brought up a point about the GFC that I hadn't realized: part of the problem was that various European banking regulations had created a huge demand for AAA-rated assets, via the perfectly understandable public demand that things like pension funds and only make extremely safe bets so retirees don't suddenly lose all their money. But there are only so many AAA assets around! And the vacuum ended up getting filled by sketchy American mortgages that were laundered through securitization and money markets until nobody realized what they were anymore. But to be clear: if American mortgages hadn't filled this demand for AAA assets beyond the realistic supply, something else would have, and would've blown up a different way.

To this I added the point that the in, which is what we saw when Truss became PM: to make a long story short, the chaos occurred in pension funds when the BOE raised rates and looked poised to raise them a lot more, and suddenly these funds were out of cash. Which is really counterintuitive! Pension funds should benefit when rates go up. But these funds had hedged themselves so much against interest rate downside risk that when rates when up, even though their future asset value was excellent in the long run, in the here-and-now they had no money. Again: safety systems causing problems. It's similar to that issue last year when commodities prices went way up, and refiners/miners of some metal, (maybe aluminum, I can't remember or find the link) were screwed because they had again hedged against downside risk and now a bunch of banks were making margin calls on them. This all turned out to be fine, I assume because capital markets gave them bridge funding on the promise that "hey, we benefit from these high prices, we're good for it", but you could imagine a scenario where this price spike occurred during a liquidity crisis where there was no easy capital available, and then these producers would've been strangled to death by their own safety nets.

I don't know much of the details, but there's an emerging discipline of study about the extent to which safety systems against small-scale accidentally inherently make large-scale ones more likely because it increases the risk of cascading failure. This is something that keeps cloud computing operators up at night, since disks and NICs and power supplies die constantly and you have to make that invisible to consumers, but these failover mechanisms are very likely to take down entire datacenters if they just plow ahead with whatever they're doing. It's wild to me that finance faces the exact same dilemma.

[delightfuldevin]

Hellooooooo!! Can I bother you for some headcanons on the Koopalings? I've been thinking about them a lot recently gkjhkgsf. Personality, Likes/Dislikes, Orientation, Ages, Koopa Breed, where they came from; anything you got think thonks about them on pretty please!!

Hello hello!! Ask and yee shall receive! I’ve written out a lot of stuff about them for my lore fic, but I haven’t polished it yet so that’s why it hasn’t been published with the rest of the fic! Under a cut this time since there’s seven of them and thus, this is gonna be looong

I’ll start with orientations since it’s pride month and I can’t bring myself to draw yet ;^; (also ages cause I should probably figure those out eventually lol).

(Added some headers to separate this so it’s a bit easier to navigate!)

Genders, Orientations, and Ages

Larry (he) - binary trans boy; straight (at least 12, maybe 13?)

Morton (he) - cis; aro-spec polyamorous (14-ish?)

Wendy (she/fae) - trans demigirl/genderfae/Idk some kind of girl-but-not-girl gender hdchjsxbjchjsx; lesbian polyamorous (15 or 16)

Iggy (he/they/ze) - genderqueer; gay (16 perhaps?)

Roy (he/they) - agender; bisexual polyamorous (17 or 18)

Lemmy (any pronouns) - genderfluid; panromantic asexual (18-ish)

Ludwig (he) - cis; aroace (18-20 Idk hdbcdcsjab)

Species/Biology

In terms of species, they’re the same as Bowser, which I call Dragon-Koopas! They are typically larger and physically stronger than most other types of Koopas, and they’re capable of breathing fire and using magic, though the latter depends on how much magical potential they have. All the past rulers of the Koopa Kingdom have been Dragon-Koopas. There are Dragon-Koopa families who aren’t royalty, though many are nobility in some way. Biological features include:

spiked shells, which come in many colors, that are unable to be separated from the body (unlike regular Koopas, who can remove their shells)

the flame pipe, an internal organ that produces fire and keeps the fire from burning other organs

very large and sharp teeth (Dragon-Koopas’ diet is primarily meat)

longer tails (for balance)

hair (only a few other types of Koopas are capable of growing hair)

“giant form”, a defense mechanism developed during puberty which causes Dragon-Koopas to grow many times their size when they have been mortally wounded (can also be affected by mental state)

Sorry to go on a biology rant hdbcjjds. Moving on!

Origins

Larry, Wendy, and Ludwig are the only ones related by blood. All the Koopalings arrived at Bowser’s Castle at different times (though all during childhood, perhaps within a year or so?), and eventually came to see each other as siblings.

Ludwig’s parents worked in Bowser’s Castle. When Larry was around 3 years old, their parents (died? Disappeared? Not sure yet dhbcjxcb). Bowser took them under his wing (he didn’t officially adopt them yet) and named Ludwig his heir (Idk how royalty works irl so I’m not sure if he can technically do that, but oh well, this is the Koopa Kingdom and Bowser makes the rules lol).

Next to arrive were Roy and Morton. They were both orphans and met each other on the streets and became like brothers. Roy, being the hot-headed and impulsive child that he was, decided it would be a good idea to break into the king’s castle. When they were caught and Bowser was asked what to do with them, he put them on cleaning duty under the guide of the castle’s cleaning crew. Roy protested at first, but Morton convinced him to suck it up since he thought the king would do worse if they didn’t. Morton was always scared of Bowser and only started to warm up to him after Bowser Jr was born.

Next was Lemmy! He was part of a traveling circus and was left behind when the circus came to the capital. Wendy found him and brought him back to the castle to play with and convinced Bowser to let him stay.

Now, Iggy was the last to show up and it happened randomly without anyone even noticing until he was already settled in. Lemmy was the first to notice Iggy was in the castle, and they just played in his room most of the time. Most of the castle attendants had gotten used to seeing Dragon-Koopa kids running through the castle, so none of them thought it unusual when they would see Iggy around.

It was around this time that Bowser started referring to them collectively as the Koopalings cause he got tired of calling them individually whenever he needed more than a couple at a time. Back then, he didn’t keep track of them so he didn’t know how many there were in total. When he finally called them in to get a final count, there were seven of them and he didn’t question it. No one knows where Iggy came from, and he deflects the question whenever it’s brought up to him.

The Koopalings were officially adopted not that long before the, uh, “current” time for lack of a better term. Bowser Jr was actually very surprised, not because they were being adopted, but because they weren’t already. Like, they’ve been living with Bowser for longer than Jr’s even been alive, so he (understandably) thought they were already his siblings to begin with hbscjsbcjd. Thing is, everyone thought they were Bowser’s kids all this time and they practically were in principle; he just never made it official until very recently.

Extra

I have sooooo many headcanons on these guys, but for the sake of not making this post a mile long, I put 4 points for each. The rest will be added to my lore fic, so look out for that!!

Larry:

Very shy and afraid as a toddler so he stuck to Ludwig like glue since he’s his older brother; very outgoing and sociable now, and doesn’t even remember being shy lol

Loves to play games; video games, sports games, card games, board games. Anything so long as it’s a game

Hates losing so he cheats in almost everything; Morton is the only one who plays with him cause Mort’s the only one who doesn’t mind his cheating and won’t call him out on it

Despite his cheery demeanor, he has a rather short fuse and is easily angered

Morton:

Terrible at telling lies, but good at keeping secrets

Likes to bake; enjoys making cakes and cookies the most

He talks a lot. Like a lot. He’s shy around strangers, so one might think he’s the quiet type, but once he’s comfortable he will never stop talking

He is magically strong and physically strong too, making him the perfect balance amongst his siblings. However, he is known to take things overboard when it comes to his strengths, which makes him very unpredictable and dangerous in battle

Wendy:

Likes typically “girly” things like bows, make up, jewelry, and high heels, but not above violence to get what she wants

Known as “the scary one” amongst her siblings and many of the minions; the other Koopalings may not listen to Ludwig sometimes, but they all know to listen to Wendy

Her necklace can be used as a weapon like her rings; it’s a chain/whip

Gets into petty arguments with Roy a lot, usually over small things like which shade of pink is the best

Iggy:

Ambidextrous

Has a deep fascination with nature and all kinds of plants and animals

His Chain Chomp is named Horace

Does all of his experiments and inventing in his room and he’s accidentally destroyed it multiple times; stays in Lemmy’s room whenever his has to be rebuilt or fumigated

Roy:

The weakest Koopaling in terms of magic, and the strongest physically (though he and Morton are almost evenly matched); relies on brute force most of the time and doesn’t care about improving his magic

Has heterochromatic eyes (his right eye is dark purple and his left is bright blue)

Wears sunglasses because his eyes are extremely sensitive to light and it can be very painful; his sunglasses were magically created by Bowser

Has an exceptional sense of smell and hearing since he relied on those senses mainly before he got his glasses

Lemmy:

Used to have a very overactive flame pipe when he was younger (sometimes he would just be trying to talk and then all of a sudden a bunch of fire would come out); has better control over his flame pipe now and his is the strongest of his siblings (meaning he can breathe the most fire at once)

Enjoys dancing and abstract painting

Always on his rubber ball; he’s even been known to sleep on it (how he manages to stay balanced on it seems like magic in and of itself)

Naturally blonde; dyes the rest of his hair

Ludwig:

The strongest Koopaling in terms of magic; according to Kamek, with enough training, he could be the strongest Dragon-Koopa in modern history

He curses a lot, which is unexpected due to his somewhat princely personality

Considers himself the leader of the Koopalings; the others usually follow him, but sometimes they don’t cause they think he’s too bossy (he kinda is lol); trusts Wendy the most and puts her in charge when he can’t be

With Bowser Jr’s birth, he is no longer Bowser’s heir, but he has no animosity about it; rather, he’s decided that it’s his responsibility to make sure Jr grows into a proper king (kinda like he’s living vicariously through Jr lol)

Sorry if this isn’t coherent I really gotta put this stuff together properly for the lore fic dhbcjsnbdcsjs

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Absentee

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Y/N fell in love with Jason Todd, she didn’t realize the normalcy she lost would become such a problem in their relationship. And she didn’t know how much pain it would cause to hide her boyfriend’s secrets. 

Word Count: 4,600 – One Shot

A/N: This is probably a really personal story. And you all might hate it or not relate to it. But oh well...

Y/N had her music playing in her headphones just quietly enough so she could hear them announce when her plane was boarding.

Between corporate holidays and what was left of her vacation days for the year, she was able to go home for a week and a half.

Only, she was hoping that this year she wouldn’t be going home alone.

But when Jason got sucked into a case two weeks before their flight back to her hometown, she knew there was no way he’d be accompanying her.  

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just–“ Jason had tried to tell her when she realized they weren’t going to be spending the holidays together.

“You don’t have to apologize. There are more important things right now than meeting my crazy family,” Y/N laughed lightly. “But they’ll be bummed.”

Jason still looked so down guiltily. He knew that Y/N had been downplaying how excited she was for her family to meet him.

Yeah, Y/N was upset, but her family was even more upset. Being in a different part of the country and them never putting in the effort to visit her, they had yet to meet Jason. Even when the two of them had been dating for 10 months.

Y/N had met all of Jason’s brothers, along with Bruce and Alfred. It had all been against his will, his family strategically running into them or invading his apartment when they knew Y/N would be there. Jason acted annoyed by it, but Y/N knew he was happy for her to meet them and without him having to act like he cared.

But Jason had only ever waved on FaceTime to her family or sometimes answered calls from them when Y/N left her phone next to him and went to another room.

It wasn’t like Y/N needed her family’s approval. She knew what she wanted and what was best for her. Their opinions didn’t hold as much weight with her as they thought.

But Y/N also had never introduced her family to a boyfriend before. Things either fizzled out before then or the relationship was so casual that the thought of even mentioning a boy-toy’s name in passing to her family made her want to jump out a window.

———

“So Jason couldn’t get out of work last minute?” Y/N’s older sister, Kate, asked as they drove to her house after picking her up from arrivals.

And so it began.

“No,” Y/N answered. “His boss is sort of an asshole. He’s a workaholic and can’t fathom why anyone else would ever be anything different.”

The truth was that Jason didn’t really have a job. When it came to income, Jason was resourceful. He was still a hitman for hire. But once the killing part of that job stopped – which was long before Y/N ever met him – it didn’t rake in as much money. Most of his money was either stolen from criminals or he would work odd jobs here and there.

However, the lie Jason and Y/N had agreed on was that he was a mechanic. And Jason did know absolutely everything there was to know about cars and motorcycles. He’d even promised Y/N that if she ever decided she wanted him to drop the vigilante life, he would do just that and start his own mechanic shop. But Y/N knew better than to ever ask that of him.

“Cars don’t stop breaking – even around the holidays,” Y/N joked darkly.

“Mhmm,” her sister answered.

Y/N already knew what her family thought of her boyfriend’s “job”: it wasn’t good enough for them.

The only reason they let it slide was because they knew Bruce Wayne was his adoptive father. Therefore they interpreted Jason’s ‘lack of ambition’ as his personal rebellion against his privilege and upbringing.

“Mom said he sent flowers and a bottle of wine to the house today and apologized for not being able to make it,” Kate added.

Y/N quickly looked at her in surprise.

“So I’m guessing from your reaction that it wasn’t your idea,” Kate teased.

“No,” Y/N shook her head. “He didn’t even tell me he did that.”

That was a Bruce Wayne move for sure. It didn’t matter that Jason had a rocky relationship with him, the Wayne charm and manners were deceivingly contagious.

————

Later that night, when everyone was in bed and Y/N decided to finally unpack. And she was surprised to find two of Jason’s t-shirts hidden in her bag. They were her favorites of his, always stealing them. Mostly she wore them to lounge around the apartment or to wear to bed. But her favoritism was in no way hidden.

Jason must’ve snuck them in her bag while she wasn’t looking.

Y/N smiled as she grabbed one of the shirts and raised it to her nose. It still smelled like him.

It was enough to make her feel guilty for not having called him yet. She’d texted him that she landed, but other than that, she’d been pretty silent.

She grabbed her cell and dialed.

“Hey, you.”

He always answered her calls as if they made his day, even if she’d called him multiple times that day already. His reaction to her calls never failed to make Y/N smile.

“I didn’t really expect you to pick up,” Y/N admitted.

“Always got time for you,” he answered lightly.

But then she heard background noise: wind blowing, distant sirens, people shouting at each other nearby.

Jason was on patrol. Or maybe he was doing some recon. 

But Y/N knew not to ask. 

“I see some of your clothes made the trip,” Y/N commented through a smile. Jason could hear the smile in her voice. “Those t-shirts have a mind of their own…”

“And my mom thought the flowers and card were sweet,” she added.

“I might not have met her yet, but I know that’s not gonna be enough to win her over,” Jason answered darkly.

Y/N didn’t say anything, because they both knew he was right.

“Flight was fine?” Jason asked, changing the subject.

“Mhmm.”

“I miss you.”

Y/N shook her head and laughed. “No, you don’t. I’ve been gone for like 12 hours.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

She rolled her eyes. “Always the romantic.”

More sirens could be heard. They sounded closer this time. “Are you being careful?” All playfulness had disappeared from her voice.

“Of course.”

Y/N sighed. “Jason, I’m serious. Please, be safe.”

“I know. I know. Don’t worry about me.”

“You know that’s not gonna happen, J.”

He ignored her comment. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

————————

To say Y/N’s time at home was rough…was an understatement.

If Y/N wasn’t being asked a million questions about Jason, she was being interrogated for why he wasn’t there. And if Jason wasn’t the subject of the conversation, people acted like she was single – some even talking about setting her up.

Y/N realized she preferred the former.

Every year, her family threw a giant party.

And for the past five years, Y/N had always been the only one that was single. All of her siblings, all of her cousins, all of their family friends, all of their neighbors…every single one of them had a significant other during those years. 

Everyone...except her. Now, this year, all of them had kids or were expecting.

It was exhausting. 

Sometimes Y/N felt like they were all robots programmed to do the exact same things at the exact same time –  no original thought to be had.

Y/N would be lying if she didn’t spend most of the party wishing Jason was at her side. He would make fun of awkward situations with her. And he would stick up for her when her family teased her a little too much.

The other thing Y/N wasn’t prepared for was unintentionally studying  her family’s boyfriends or husbands. She felt like she was watching everyone’s relationships through a different lens now that she herself had her own. And to put it as kindly as possible…she was not impressed.

Y/N noticed how none of the men offered to help in the kitchen, instead deciding to sit on the couch and watch football and scream at the television. Or how when her cousin handed her son to her husband, and he acted like he didn’t even know how to hold the one year old. And later, when his diaper needed to be changed, he handed him back to his wife as if he had no idea how to do it himself.

Yet her family was stuck on Jason not being able to visit or that he was a mechanic.

What did someone’s job matter if they treated her like she was their world and he the best thing to ever happen to her?

If Jason were here, he would be in the kitchen cooking. And if they had a kid, it would be a 50/50 job – not a burden only Y/N had to bare. He would try to get to know everyone because he would want to know the people who raised the woman he loved. He’d make sure to check in on Y/N every once in awhile, making sure she didn’t need anything. 

Thinking about it all made Y/N miss Jason even more.

Needing to get some air, she decided to go outside and let the winter chill refresh her. It had been getting too hot in the house.

Y/N pulled her phone out of her back pocket and tapped Jason’s name.

“Hey, you.”

“Hi,” she sighed.

Just hearing his voice made her feel a bit better and tension left her body.

“What’s wrong?” Jason quickly asked.

“Nothing. Just…wanted to check in.”

For a second, she was going to explain that she had the sudden realization that all the men connected to her family were trash. And witnessing it was making her miss him more. But she didn’t really want to waste her breath and she figured she’d just come off dramatic more than sincere.

“Are you at your apartment?” She asked quickly.

“Yeah, I’m gonna leave for patrol in a bit…”

Then Y/N’s mind suddenly thought, ‘Fuck it.’

“Jason?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“If you were here…” She began softly.

“Mhmm,” he encouraged.

“What would you be doing?”

Jason was a bit confused by the question for a second. But he slowly got what she was asking.

“Well,” he took in a shallow breath. “I would’ve stolen Alfred’s famous chocolate chip cookie recipe and whipped up those bad boys to bring over. And I’d pretend to care about football with your dad.”

That made Y/N laugh.

“I’d help your mom in the kitchen, even when she pretended not to want it.”

“Really laying it on thick, huh?”

But Y/N knew he was right. Jason was the cook between the two of them – and a good one, too. He also was a helper. He couldn’t sit back and watch someone do something while he did nothing. No matter how big or small.

“Shhh,” Jason reprimanded and then continued. “But most importantly, I’d try to get as many embarrassing stories about you as I possibly could.”

“Well, thank goodness you’re not here then,” she teased with a roll of her eyes.

Jason was quiet a second before he asked, “Wanna tell me what’s wrong now?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Just miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

“All my family’s boyfriends and husbands are losers. And I guess I’m just now realizing it.”

“Ahh,” Jason noted.

Now he really knew why she’d asked her question.

“It’s snowing here,” he told her as he looked out the window. “It’s almost making Gotham look pretty.”

“Are you going to the manor for Christmas?”

“Probably not,” Jason answered.

“Jason,” she grumbled. “What are you going to do instead? Sit in your apartment alone?”

“I’m gonna patrol. Crime doesn’t take holidays, Y/N.”

“Cheesy,” she pointed out. “Please be with your family, Jason. I don’t want you to be alone. OK?”

“I’ll think about it.”

Y/N knew that was as good as it was going to get.

Then she felt something on her cheek and she looked up. “Hey, it just started snowing here, too…” She told him with her head tilted back.

“I love you,” he sighed.

“I love you, too. Be careful tonight, Jason.”

Y/N gave herself a few more moments outside before returning to the party.

When she walked back inside, she immediately heard her name. But no one was calling to her. 

She was being talked about. 

She recognized her mom and sister’s voices, and then a couple of her aunts. They were talking around the corner, completely unaware that Y/N was in hearing distance.

So Y/N couldn’t help but linger.

“She says he works a lot. Every time I facetime her, he’s never there,” her sister Kate told the women. “I wouldn’t even really know what he looked like if it weren’t for her photos that she’s sent me. He doesn’t have any social media.”

“I just can’t believe he couldn’t get work off. Around the holidays?” Her mom added in utter disbelief. “Sounds like it won’t be surprising when she finds out he’s been unfaithful,” one her aunts commented.

The group hummed in agreement, but also disappointment. 

“He doesn’t even live in Metropolis. He lives in Gotham,” her mother supplied, only further backing the idea that Jason wasn’t committed. “God knows why. But I hate that Y/N is constantly going there. No good news comes from that city.”

Y/N clenched her teeth in anger.

If only they knew the truth about Jason. 

He was a hero and risked his life every night for an entire city – a city that had done nothing but hurt him. And he was 20 times the man than any of the men in their family.

She just wanted to scream at them for being so judgmental about a person they’d never even met.

But she couldn’t.

So Y/N stormed up to her childhood bedroom and decided she had enough of the party.

She shouldn’t have come home for the holidays. She would’ve rather waited for Jason to get back from his Red Hood work than listen to her family misjudge the first man she ever truly loved and wanted to share with them.

————————

Y/N was so tired when she got off the plane.

She felt like a zombie as she walked to baggage claim to grab her duffle.

What she wasn’t expecting was to find her boyfriend waiting for her in arrivals.

Y/N had told him she would just get a car.

But Jason seemed to have other ideas.

Y/N’s entire face brightened at the sight of him.

She practically ran to him and jumped into his arms.

Jason chuckled at her enthusiasm.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, her words muffled by his body.

“I thought I’d surprise you,” Jason said through a smile before he kissed her head.

Y/N didn’t respond, just held him tightly.

“Come on. Let’s get your bag and head home,” he finally told her.

—

“So, how was it?” Jason asked once they got into his car. Y/N shrugged, “It was fine.”

Her lack of details and curt response was enough warning for Jason to realize things were not totally fine between them.

He didn’t bother asking for more details during the car ride home. Instead, he answered all her questions about what he had been up to, how the case was going, if his family was alright.

Once they got back to Y/N’s apartment in Metropolis, the grace period seemed to be over.

Y/N had grown quiet as she moved around her apartment, unpacking and putting all her things away.

Jason walked into her bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed as she folded clean clothes. “This might be a shot in the dark. But I can’t help but feel that you’re not happy with me,” he finally pointed out.

She didn’t answer or look at him, just kept folding.

“Did something happen while you were at home?” Jason pushed.

She still didn’t answer. So Jason reached for her hands, holding them gently.

“Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I just didn’t expect how hard it was going to be…” she finally whispered with a bowed head.

“What would be?”

“Just going home without you,” she explained.

“Did something happening?”

“I mean, kinda? Not really. They just…” she hesitated. Did she really want to confess all of this to him? She knew it would only hurt him. "They think you’re a bad boyfriend.”

Jason just nodded slowly.

He should’ve seen this coming. Of course her family didn’t think he was good enough. How could they think anything different?

“I’m just…fucking frustrated,” Y/n groaned. “I knew what I was getting into when you told me about your other life and who you really were. I was willing to keep your secret and protect it. I just never thought about how hard it would be keeping it from my family.”

She shook her head. “They think you’re not committed or something. And that…that you’re probably cheating on me.”

The idea of him ever doing that her made Jason sick to his stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Jason mumbled.

“What?” Y/N gasped. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“But I have,” he argued. “I put you in this position.”

“No, I did. I did when I fell in love with you,” she clarified.

“But I don’t want you lying to the people you love.”

“I’m not telling you this because I’m mad at you or blame you, Jason. I’m trying to tell you why I’m frustrated.”

She rubbed her face. “I just want them to know what an amazing person you are...and how brave and selfless. How you take care of me and love me and…and protect me.” Her eyes began to water. “They’re never gonna know the real you…even when they do meet you. And I fucking hate it.”

“So what if you told them?” Jason offered.

Her eyes widened at that. “Jason…”

“I’m serious. What if you told them?”

She thought about it. But she already knew the answer.

“It wouldn’t do any good. If I told them, then they’d be worried about me. Worried that your other life was putting me in danger. Worried that I would get pulled into it.”

Jason knew she was right.

Her family probably preferred an absentee boyfriend over a vigilante.

“But I see how the shitty men that have joined my family are. And you’re nothing like them. You’re so much better. And they’ll never even know.”

“Come here,” Jason muttered before he pulled her to him.

He let her body sink into his as he held her.

“I’ll do anything you want,” he whispered as he rubbed her back. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I always wondered what it would be like to finally been in a relationship – to just have someone on my team no matter what. I went to all those family gatherings thinking I’d never have it. And once I did, once I found you…” Her thoughts died out. “I just never expected it to be this way.”

“Do you regret it?” Jason asked as he pulled away to look in her eyes.

Her brow furrowed. “Regret what?”

“Being with me. Falling in love with me.”

Her heart broke at the question. “Oh, Jason. Of course not. Never.”

“What if I stopped?” He asked.

“No. I would never ask that of you,” she quickly shot down.

“I’d do it for you,” he tried to argue.

“I know you would. But I’m not asking. Because I know what it would do to you. Every time you’d see something in the news, you’d hate yourself. Because you would convince yourself that you could’ve stopped it. And maybe you would be right.” She took in a deep breath. “Red Hood isn’t just something you do. He’s a part of you. And even though I worry about you constantly, I’m never gonna tell you to stop.”

Jason took his time in reading her face.

“OK?” She pushed.

He nodded.

Then he embraced her once again.

“I’m sorry you have to keep my secrets,” he breathed into her hair.

————————————

Y/N walked into Jason’s apartment.

It was a Friday night and they agreed to have her come to his place this weekend.

Jason was always weary of her coming to Gotham, preferring her to stay in the safety of Metropolis.

He knew they couldn’t do the distance forever, and eventually they’d move into together. But he wasn’t ready to leave Gotham yet. And he didn’t want Y/N to lowering herself to such a city.

“J!” Y/N called when she walked in.

He had given her keys to his apartment quite early in their relationship, and told her she was welcome at his place any time. However, he wasn’t a fan of her getting there after dark. Gotham was Gotham, and he didn’t like her wandering around the city by herself just in order to give him a surprise visit.

An envelope on Jason’s kitchen counter caught her attention.

She nosily looked at it and saw that they were plane tickets to her hometown with both of their names on each of them.  

She heard Jason walk up behind her. “What’s this?”

“A surprise,” he shrugged.

“What do you mean?” She laughed.

“We’re gonna visit your family,” he explained casually. “I called your mom and sister to find a weekend that worked.”

Y/N was shocked to silence.

“I know I fucked up when I couldn’t go with you during the holidays. I know this isn’t gonna solve everything. But I figured…it’s start.” Before he could say more, Y/N threw her arms around him.

————

Jason Todd knew how to throw on the charm. And no matter how thick he laid it on, it always felt sincere.

Y/N smiled as she watched her boyfriend interacting with her family.

He knew so much about each of them already, that he knew exactly what to talk about with every one of them.

For their long-weekend visit, they had decided to stay with her sister.

Jason knew she would be the hardest to win over and was the most protective over Y/N. He made it his personal mission to befriend her and show her how much he loved her little sister.

Y/N never said so, but Jason knew how important it was to her that Kate approved of him.

However, Jason hadn’t been able to have a conversation alone with her all weekend.

Until their last morning there.

Y/N was still sleeping when Jason had made his way to the kitchen.

He figured he could make Kate and her husband breakfast after housing them for a long weekend. And he made sure to start a pot of coffee while he was at it.

Halfway through making his specialty waffles, Kate walked into the kitchen rubbing her eyes.

“Oh, hi,” she greeted, clearly surprised to find Jason cooking in her kitchen.

“Morning,” Jason greeted.

“This is a surprise,” she said as she looked around the kitchen.

“There’s coffee if you want some.”

“T-Thanks…” she managed to mutter. “Do you need some help?”

“Nope. I got it. You just relax.”

Kate seemed to be unsure of how to behave when she was alone with her little sister’s boyfriend, and eventually sat on the kitchen stool with her coffee.

“Do you cook a lot?” She finally broke the silence with her question.

“I enjoy it,” he answered with a shrug. “I figured it’s the least I can do for you guys putting us up.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Jason.”

He continued cooking.

Kate figured this was her opportunity to get to know Jason – and not just through Y/N’s eyes. So, she started asking him question after question, and he seemed happy to answer them. Kate was surprised to find out about Jason’s traumatic childhood, making him realize that Y/N must’ve only shared his relation to Bruce Wayne and nothing more about his life before becoming an adopted Wayne.

Jason wasn’t surprised Y/N kept that part of his life to herself. She was protective of him that way. She always felt like his past was his story to tell, not hers.

“I know missing the holidays didn’t leave the best impression,” Jason told her after they’d been talking for awhile.

“You really mean a lot to Y/N. And your opinion matters more to her than you might think,” he added as he crossed his arms.

Kate seemed a little taken aback by how unafraid he was of confrontation.

He seemed more mature for his age – maybe for hers, even.

“I know I’m not going to win any of you over from just a single trip,” Jason continued. “But I’m going to work my ass off to make sure I get there.”

Kate smiled at that.

“I love her,” he told her quietly, but with determination. “She’s…Well, she’s the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Then he smirked. “And I’m not dumb enough to do anything to fuck things up with her.”

He took in a shallow breath. “I just…I just needed you to know that.”

Kate’s heart swelled from hearing her little sister’s boyfriend confessing his love for Y/N.

“Thank you for telling me that,” she whispered, trying to stop herself from crying. “I worry about her. And I hate that she’s so far away sometimes. I miss her.”

“She misses you, too,” Jason assured her.

“Thank you for taking care of her. I’m suddenly realizing you’re the only reason she’s eating anything that’s not out of a takeout container.”

Jason laughed. “I plead the fifth.”

Before any more could be said, Y/N walked into the kitchen as if she was sleep walking.

“Well, look who it is…” Jason teased.

Y/N walked to him silently, clearly wanting cuddles.

Jason chuckled at her, but gave her what she wanted. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. He had kept the PDA at an absolute minimum while he had been around Y/N’s family. But he couldn’t help it when Y/N was her sleepy and adorable self.

“You sleep OK?” He tried to whisper to her.

But Kate still heard it and pretended to look down at her phone.

Y/N nodded into his neck, making him chuckle at her more.

This was new for Kate, seeing her sister being loved and loving someone. Her instinct was to say it made her uncomfortable. But it was just something she wasn’t used to.

Soon Kate’s husband woke up and they all ate breakfast together.

And a few hours later, Y/N and Jason were packed and their was a Lyft was waiting outside to take them to the airport.

Jason hugged Kate and her husband and thanked them for hosting them. Then he grabbed Y/N’s bags and gave her a moment alone with her sister as he took their stuff to the car.

“I think I owe the two of you an apology…” Kate told her little sister.

“You do?”

“I think I judged him a bit too much before really giving him a chance.”

Y/N winced, but nodded. “Yeah, you did, actually.”

“He really loves you.”

Y/N smiled. “He does.”

“I just want you to be happy, you know that right?”

“I know. But sometimes you think that what makes you happy is what would make me happy. Our lives are different. And we want different things. Just because my relationship looks different than yours doesn’t mean it’s worse in some way.”

Kate nodded sadly, knowing her sister was right. “I get that now.”

-----------

A/N: I was inspired to write this when I thought about how my own family would react to me having a boyfriend like Jason Todd: a man who was secretly a vigilante and had a past too hard for anyone to ever imagine. Hopefully, other people can relate to this and it wasn’t too personal. 😬

Let me know what you thought!!!

[vespertin-y]

it’s liveblog o’clock babeee!! this time from the beginning of ch1′s trial to The Switch :’)

-”ah-haha, oh man, i haven’t been in a trial in, like, forever!” “oh, so you have experience with trials...?” tsumugi is using her sweating sprite here, too...adding this to my ‘kokichi was season 52′s second sacrifice’ conspiracy corkboard.

-the mechanical podiums in v3 are fucking SICK. i especially love the way they yank prime suspects into the middle of the trial circle. the standardized size is funny though, poor gonta and korekiyo look so awkward. at least they gave ryoma a stool....

-the monokubs are talking about the fastest class trial to date, and they say: “he was like...a leaf on the wind.” “oh yeah...i guess now he’s one with the wind.” “yeah, i think about him this time of year too.” “the way he soared through the enemy fleet all badass, just to die like a li’l punk!” it seems like the guy was a military aviator(?) who either killed someone right in front of the others, or confessed immediately. sucks for him, but a good basis for an oc...hmmm....

-it’s childish, but seeing two dr characters on the screen with a giant CONSENT!!! between them never fails to make me laugh. in an ideal world they put these in the love hotels.

-the way kokichi’s voice wobbles up and down during his fake crying continues to be hilarious, and ryoma’s amused little “...cool your jets, kid.” is great also.

-oh, i just realized they all call gonta by his first name! i though it was just kokichi that did that, but it seems like he just drops his usual -chan.

-korekiyo suggests they torture those who went to the basement for information, but shouldn’t he know that’s a useless way to interrogate people...? and no one even comments on it, either??? they just let it slide and move on!

-”if the culprit is among that group, then wouldn’t maki be the most suspicious? just look at her - she could definitely kill someone.” lines like this make me inclined to believe kokichi wasn’t lying when he says he’s known about maki for ages in ch2. was he just waiting for the proof the motive videos provided? or maybe he knows literally nothing and is just dicking around here. that’s always an option!

-watching shuichi be suspected for forgetting about the camera intervals shatters my heart. but hearing miu call him kaede’s boytoy with zero pushback from either of them puts it back together.

-i wonder what the intermissions are, in-universe? i hope they’re bathroom breaks...standing in one spot for that many hours would be awful.

-shuichi’s panic spiral is definitely not helped by being moved to the middle where he’s surrounded by eyes from all angles 😬 i’d clam up too!

-the pulsing scribbly eyes during perjury are SO cool-looking,,,

-kaede’s JP VA is absolutely INSANE. the fact that i can hear her smiling AND tearing up, at the same time, across a language barrier????

-THE SLOW FLICKERING OUT OF THE UI...THE GUNSHOT SOUND WHEN SHE SAYS SHUICHI’S GOING TO PROTECT EVERYONE...SHUICHI’S SHAKY VOICE FILTERING IN...WHAT a moment oh my goddd. 193/10.

-that’s all for now...i’ll be back with the next part of the trial sometime soon, for now i just need to lay down......(இ﹏இ`｡)

[pentition]

I wonder if they are going to add an outcome to keep Pen in Sandrock at the cost of Logan hating your gut. I don't think I would even mind that all that much, consequences like that can be pretty neat in a game like this I think.

It would be interesting! I want to keep them both but it would make sense to go that route. I'd also feel bad since Sandrock is (objectively) more of Logan's home than it is Pen's.

Spoilers!!

Sort of reminds me how in Dragon Age: Origins you get the chance to recruit Loghain at the cost of Alastair. Which, with some characters I like to play, they absolutely would make that call. I mean, when it comes to competency and useful assets, taking a veteran soldier vs a novice warden during a war is better. Apply that here, too.

Factoring in morality and intentions is always important, of course. Pen and Loghain are both traitors and both in possession of experience and knowledge. Alastair and Logan are both products of their mentors (or father-figures) and more green/less in the know of things. You run the risk of unpredictability in a way with the prior two vs the latter two when it comes to loyalty. But if they willingly do wish to aid for whatever reason, they are absolutely more significant assets to have.

Traitor Pen becoming a double traitor? Sharing his knowledge, when he thinks it's relevant to share it. I can think of so many reasons why he'd turn against Duvos sgfdgfhg

I feel like it's potentially something that Pathea wouldn't do just because they seem to prefer operating on more simple means. Which I wish wasn't the case since their games have lots of potential to be bigger and more. They have such fun lore with the ability to be light and dark, and even with some of the ridiculous designs they have it doesn't detract from the meat of the story and characters. I feel like if they are willing to make that effort it would definitely be interesting to the narrative. Choosing between Pen or Logan. Or even finding a way to make them cooperate enough. It would be really cool but I feel like, gameplay-wise with NPCs, things are kind of on par in some places and less in others with engagement in this game vs Portia. But it's also in early access still and despite my full release date worries (if they are happening in the summer still?) I keep trying to just remind myself it could change.

There are a lot of things I'd like to see. I think the potential for Pen exists in a lot of ways to keep him in the narrative and as a returning romance option. Also possible to make it be a choice between Logan or Pen or them just be at odds the whole time, likewise I see potential for positive development if facts are just changed around and Pen not really being honest. That's a whole ass subject in itself though. I just agree it would be interesting if they added more context and game mechanics - especially with these two, since they are rather important to Sandrock's storyline.

Also consequences in games, when done well, are so fun!! I'm so weak for social dynamics having pros and cons with characters and factions. If we have Pen back in our custody at the end of Knives Out, I feel like it's a perfect opportunity to play with consequences or building trust to keep Pen. The idea of options existing interests me. Maybe you can't get through to him so you can only engage with him while he's in prison. Or maybe you can't and he breaks out and stays your enemy. Or maybe you can find even ground and he comes to stand by you/Sandrock/Free Cities instead?

I'm dipping into the whole potential of Pen narratively speaking so I'm gonna cut myself off here. I agree with you on how fun and interesting it would all be!!