#because Tetris is life

[tears-of-boredom]

ok so...I wouldnt call myself necessarily "artistically talented", and I famously am very bad at perspectives.. but i drew a thing for @bearotonin-international

[fingertipsmp3]

I’m gonna challenge my subconscious to a fist fight and I’m gonna lose

[little-klng]

i think i played chicory too much

[cl4ssyjazzy]

I can control my dreams so when I was balls deep in my tetris obsession era I frequently dreamt about tetris games, as in, I played tetris in my dreams. One day, as I was playing, a weird ass Tetromino appeared that was like a T but longer, and when I couldn't fit it into my line I woke up in a cold sweat like "WHAT WAS THAT?". In my brain that sort of T was so wrong and off brand that it belonged in hell and caused me to have a nightmare and actual physical distress.

last night i had a dream that i was playing minecraft and i noticed i had 77 blocks of cobblestone in one slot instead of it being capped at 64 and it was so jarring to me that it literally booted me out of the dream. like sure you can fly now and your childhood home is a pharmacy but 77 pieces of cobblestone? unthinkable. wake the fuck up.

[bitchybylershipper]

guess who got a nasty cardboard cut on its first day downstairs doing regroup 😑

[moonjxsung]

Kinktober Day 5: Perv Best Friend

[kinktober masterlist.]

🔞 warning: smut below! mdni.

pairing: Han Jisung x reader

•

“God, Hyunjin’s so annoying,” Jisung remarks, as he shoves his way past the door and into the bathroom.

The faint sounds of chatter can be heard when he gets quiet again, observing the way you touch up your crimson lipstick in the mirror. There’s a rhythmic thump from the heavy bass of the speakers downstairs, and when he glances at the door to ensure it’s locked, he can almost swear he still hears Hyunjin’s obnoxious tone filling the room with tales of his pretentious college life as an art major.

“Jisung, you’re not really supposed to follow a girl into the bathroom,” you say to him, chuckling lightly.

“What? It’s not like you’re taking a piss or something. You’re just doing your makeup again.”

You sigh frustratedly, biting back a smile at the sight of Jisung leaning against the wall behind you, a bottle of apple juice in hand and his arms folded over his broad chest.

It’s almost pathetic how clingy your best friend can be- completely sober at every social outing, always sulking about how much he despises the atmosphere.

“I’m just going because you’re going,” he’ll usually say, and you know it to be true by the way he follows you around like a lost puppy. Always voicing his distaste for the people, or the music, or sometimes the food. Typically a little annoyed if there are more men than women, but also painfully awkward in the presence of any woman besides yourself. Fidgeting around on his phone as though a game of Tetris might somehow make the evening go faster- in between strings of texts to you, of course, begging to just call it a night already.

“He’s not annoying,” you finally say, and Jisung scoffs in response.

“Nobody cares that he studied abroad for a semester. And I’m sure anybody could paint the way he does.”

“Sounds like you’re just a little jealous,” you say, raising an eyebrow, as you blot your lips with a folded tissue.

“Jealous?” He retorts, his eyebrows arching up as though he’s pleading for you to think otherwise. “You’re just saying that because you want to fuck him.”

Jisung waits for you to argue with him, taking a swig of his apple juice as he prepares for you to pivot on your heel and yell at him for implying such a far-fetched idea. But when several seconds of silence pass, he swallows nervously, knowing that this is an even worse outcome that he was preparing himself for.

“What, so I’m right?” Jisung chimes in again with a chuckle. His fingers run along the grooves of the plastic bottle, pupils trembling, as he hears you sigh loudly.

“I think he’s cute,” is all you say, mentally preparing yourself for the fit he’ll inevitably throw at the confession.

“Hyunjin?” Jisung voices, like you haven’t been talking about him for the entirety of your conversation so far. “Are you serious? Wow, you really do have the worst taste in guys.”

He takes a step forward, placing the now-empty bottle on the granite counter by your makeup bag and meeting your gaze in the mirror.

“Do you do it on purpose?” He questions, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips as one hand runs through his tousled black hair. “Choose the worst guys to thirst over?”

“He’s not the worst, Jisung. You just don’t like him- that’s different.”

“I don’t like him because he’s the worst.”

When you finally do pivot around, Jisung is surprisingly close to you, his fingertips practically grazing the hem of your skirt as his gaze meets yours. He swallows nervously at the proximity, hands shoving awkwardly into the pockets of his jeans, as he towers over you.

“What’s a guy like Hyunjin have,” Jisung begins, observing the way you straighten your posture to maintain a confident stance. “That a guy like me, doesn’t have?”

You can’t help but chuckle at the question, your heartbeat quickening in your chest at the sight of him this close to you.

It’s a fair question- one you’ll never be able to conjure up a proper answer to, considering there’s really nothing Hyunjin has that Jisung doesn’t. Sure, he’s an artist, and he’s remarkably handsome. But Jisung is both of those things, too- he’s also funny, charming, adorably clingy. There’s no reason you shouldn’t be smitten with Jisung, too- except he’s your best friend, and nothing more.

“Nothing,” you say candidly.

Jisung furrows his brows in confusion at your response.

“You never call me cute,” he argues. “It’s always some stupid frat guy, or a total jock, or a painter. Not that I care, anyway, but you’re not really helping your case by admitting that we share no real discrepancies, and yet you still favor him-”

It’s you who kisses Jisung first, leaning forward just an inch to press a chaste kiss to his pouty lips, your eyes shut while his eyes widen in surprise. When you pull back again, he scans your face for some sign of this being a cruel joke, but there’s no clear indication in your otherwise unreadable expression.

“What was that for?” Jisung asks, his heart racing in his chest. He hopes you can’t tell that he’s already hard beneath his jeans, desperate for you to do it again- maybe take it even further, the way he’s always wished you would.

“You’re annoying,” is all that you say to him, stepping back to hoist yourself onto the granite counter. You assume a spot on the counter beside the sink, hands by your sides, your eyes locked on his as though you’re beckoning for him to continue.

Jisung isn’t sure if he should make a move, knowing you’ll probably just complain that he’s not Hyunjin. But when he takes a single step forward, his lips hovering over yours once more, there’s not a complaint uttered from between your parted lips. Instead, your heavy breathing, as your hands pull him in by the thin black tank top he sports, pressing your lips back to his to kiss him properly this time.

It’s clear how badly Jisung’s always wanted this, by the way that he slips his tongue between your lips, moaning softly between motions as his hands part your legs. When he separates momentarily to slip your sweater off, he’s mesmerized by the lacy brassiere you sport, having gotten off to the thought of it several dozens of times before.

His lips find yours again, working down your neck in hungry motions, as though he’s trying to paint your flesh in as many bruises as he possibly can with the few minutes he has you like this in the bathroom.

“Jisung,” you say to him, your fingers traveling to his crotch and palming his bulge over his jeans.

He practically reads your mind before you can make your request, his nimble fingers working down to undo his belt and snake his jeans down his slender waist. And then all at once he’s in just his underwear, his cock straining desperately against the fabric, as he toys with the waistband of your panties, too.

“Please, can I?” Jisung asks, almost pathetically, as he emits a soft moan before he can elaborate. Your hands massage his clothed bulge, fascinated at how big your best friend feels when he’s hard- and all of it for you only.

He groans when the contact is broken again, but only for your hands to tug his underwear down and effectively free his erection for you. And when your head tilts to observe the sight of his pink cock leaking with precum, he buries his face in your neck again pulling your flesh between his teeth and whispering little pleas to let him pleasure you.

“Sorry I’m not some frat boy, or an artist,” Jisung mumbles against you, rutting against your thigh like an animal in heat. “But I guarantee I want this more than they do.”

An involuntary chuckle escapes your lips before you grasp his chiseled face between your hands, forcing his gaze onto yours and kissing him passionately.

“If you’re gonna fuck me,” you say to him, your hands traveling down to pull down your own underwear. “Then get on with it already.”

His lips pull into a toothy grin against your mouth as one hand wraps around the base of his cock, the other hand guiding your legs a little wider as he positions himself in front of you. He taps the tip of his cock against your clit in anticipation as he kisses you again, and you moan softly at the sensation, your arms wrapping around him to pull him in even closer. At the same time you do, he thrusts himself inside of you, slipping past your lips with ease, his girth completely engulfed by your wetness.

Jisung’s eyes seem to roll back when he’s finally inside of you, quickening his movements without a second to spare as he thrusts in and out of you, his hips rutting frantically, like you’ll change your mind if he slows down to remind you it’s your best friend fucking you. But your movements are frantic, too, clawing at his broadened back as he slips his tongue between your lips again, his cock hitting every inch of you and filling you up in a way you’re not sure you’ve ever been satisfied before. One hand reaches up to steady himself on the glass mirror behind you, pressing desperately against the foggy glass, as he fucks you a little faster now, grunts escaping his lips with every thrust, as his other hand steadies your waist.

“Fuck,” Jisung remarks, head hanging to watch his cock disappear in and out of you. “He could never fuck you like this. Do you know how hard you make me?”

“Yeah,” is all you can say back, and it’s unclear whether it’s an answer to your question, or a verbal display of blissful pleasure. Either way, when he meets your gaze again to kiss you, he feels your nails dig into his back, your walls clenching around him as you near your finish.

“I’m gonna cum,” you breathe out to him, trying to catch your breath as his movements maintain their quick pace.

And for a brief moment, you’re reminded that Jisung is your best friend- and he has been for several years now, despite your knowledge of him always wanting something more. He makes no effort to hide it from you, of course, frequently caught staring at your chest a little bit too long, inquiring about your one night stands, or even insisting he tag along on dates to “keep an eye out for you”. Perhaps there have been a few comments here and there about how he’d have fucked you long ago if you weren’t friends first and foremost, or that you check every box for a woman of his standards. But the confusion is nothing but a fleeting concern for another day, as you’re brought back to the sensation of his fingers gripping your waist, his cock hitting your cervix with every thrust.

Jisung’s been spewing his perversions all the while your mind’s run elsewhere, admitting that he’s “always thought about you like this”, and that “he’s never been this hard for another girl before”. And the rest is indistinguishable as his voice raises an octave, begging to cum inside of you, as he fucks you particularly hard now.

Before he can even announce that he’s close- or perhaps he already has, Jisung is indeed cumming inside of your throbbing sex, as he buries his lips in the crook of your neck, littering sloppy kisses down to your clavicles. He doesn’t slow his thrusts just yet- in fact, his breathing grows labored as he begins to fuck his release in and out of you now, meeting your lips once more as he attempts to speak.

“Are you close?” Jisung asks, whimpering at the sensation of your pussy clenching down around his length. “I’ll stop when you finish, too.”

And the words are dizzying, to hear that he’s so insistent on putting your pleasure first- something you’re not sure any guy has done for you before. Of course if it was going to be anyone, it’d be your perverted best friend and longtime admirer, who’s only dreamt of getting you to cum for him.

“I’m gonna cum,” you say for the second time this evening, while Jisung is still half-hard inside of you. His thrusts are a little shallower, but he keeps a steady pace, just grazing your lips with his as he works you to your release.

He might be persistent, and his mind may run a little too rampant with thoughts of you- both of which work in your favor, you now know, when you finally feel yourself clench one last time around him, throbbing as you gasp for air during your release. In one swift motion, your fluids are trickling down around his cock, and he’s groaning at the sensation, fucking the last of his release, and now yours, back into you.

His panting slows its course as he pulls out of you, scrambling to collect a wad of tissues to assist you in getting cleaned up. As you hoist yourself off the counter, you can’t help but keep your gaze on his, cocking your head curiously, as he fastens his belt once more and tousles his hair in the mirror.

“I suppose we should head back out there,” Jisung states casually, gesturing at the door.

It’s you now, who can’t seem to stop staring at the broad chest he flaunts beneath his tank top, eyeing his slender waist and his veiny hands. He’s a good fuck- perhaps also skilled with his fingers, and most definitely his tongue. The sink is just big enough for him to bury his face between your legs- and outside, the party is just busy enough so that nobody would notice if you stayed here another half, maybe even a full hour.

“I dunno,” you say to Jisung, fiddling awkwardly with the hem of your bra. “We could… stay here a bit longer?”

He smirks, as though this was his plan all along, and then he pulls his shirt off over his head before he can relay a proper answer.

“You’re annoying,” is all Jisung replies, using your own words against you, as he hoists you back onto the granite counter.

*

[hedgehog-moss]

I usually buy one stere of firewood per year, one and a half at most, but this year I saw an ad at the farm store promising a discount if you ordered 5 or 10 steres and I thought, well, I have a brand new wood shed, so let's go, five steres, why not!

Then a big truck came to my house and threw up this lava flow of wood in front of my shed and I realised that my mental representation of 5 steres, in terms of volume, was a bit off.

But that's okay! My friend D. was coming to visit. She's very convenient to have around in early autumn because she enjoys the real-life Tetris aspect of stacking wood—not only that, but she's uncannily talented at spotting blackberries, and September is blackberry season. (I do also invite her in other seasons so she doesn't feel exploited for her gifts.)

I was a bit concerned about the wood-stacking part of her visit though, partly because of the truckload of wood awaiting us and partly because this year's wood is completely shapeless and looks like whimsically sea-sculpted debris from an ancient shipwreck.

(On the left: the pretty logs that /I/ cut, which are shaped and easy to stack. On the right: the nonsensical wood that I bought.)

(My friend saw this and almost went on strike. She was like, "Not a single log has a shape that makes sense with the others... it sucks. That's not Tetris 😠") (Me: "Think of it as having reached a higher, more challenging level of Tetris." Her: "😠")

On top of that, because of the cold and rainy summer we've had, blackberries were very scarce this year, like everything else. Brambles are so ubiquitous in my woods I used to think I would always get more blackberries than I know what to do with, but last month I actually had to go look for them which I'm not used to doing. Every fence is usually covered with blackberries in September, and in some parts of the woods there are hazel trees taken over by brambles so that blackberries are dangling in front of your face temptingly and you don't even need to bend down to pick them. But not this year.

I feared this visit would be quite disappointing for D. if the wood stacking and the berry picking were less fun than usual—but the fact that blackberries were much harder to find than the previous years made her amazing berry-dar all the more necessary and appreciated, and she enjoyed our blackberry hunt. We'd get lost in mazes of giant broom bushes and I'd be like, let's go somewhere else there are no blackberries to be found here, and she'd stop dead and go, "Here!" And here they were!

I don't know how she does it.

One fun thing that happened is that at one point, while D. was somehow finding kilos of blackberries in a field I'd already searched two days before and which had seemed empty of berries, I wandered away into the forest to photograph some pretty mushrooms. Then I heard a strange bird call which, when I looked up and paid more attention to it, sounded more like my friend calling my name from afar. I figured I was being called out for getting distracted from the berry harvest, so I returned to the field. She was crouching down at the other end of the field with her back turned on me and didn't look like she'd just called me.

Half an hour later, when it was getting dark and we were about to go home, she told me, "Hey, did you have something to show me earlier? When you were in the woods." Me: "No, why?" Her: "You called my name."

...

Me: "I didn't call your name. You called MY name." On second thought, she said that it sounded quite shaky and high-pitched, not like my voice, more birdlike. Me: "I initially thought it was a bird too!" Problem: our names sound nothing alike.

We stood there mystified for a minute, wondering if there could be a bird capable of articulating both of our names, or if it was some other animal or thing that somehow knows our names. (We were quite sure there were no humans in the area, because Pandolf is very good at sensing nearby people and always wants to go say hi to them.)

We looked at the woods, then at my car parked nearby, then went, "Okay! Time to go home and never investigate this further 😊"

My friends are a good influence on me—there were people a bit concerned about my sanity in the notes of that post where I talked about going out into the woods at night because something was screaming, and I think they'll be happy with the moral of this story! We went home and sat by the fire eating blackberry tart and talked about what a great decision it was, all things considered, to not try to figure out what sort of creature wanted us to wander deeper into the forest at dusk. The end.

[void-of-unparalled-chaos]

Slap a Bow on It

 "Contrary to popular belief, Danny wasn’t stupid. He could be a bit oblivious, but he always got there in the end. So when Danny woke up the next morning and realized that last night wasn’t a dream, he had an epiphany. He was being courted by the super hot and apparently undead crime lord who ran the haunt on the other side of the street."

@deadonmayn Day 1: Courting Rituals | Flickering | Dinner is interrupted by a rogue/gang fight | "Are they gone yet?"

TW: Danny is thirsty as hell, mentions/allusions to nsfw but nothing explicit

AO3 Link

   Danny blinked.

   He could only assume that the crime lord, illuminated purely by the light of the fridge in the otherwise dark apartment, blinked back. The helmet didn't give anything away, red plating and slanted eye whites impassive. Good for being sexy menacing. Not so good for reading emotions.

   Danny blinked again, wiping the rheum from his eyes with pinched fingers. He squinted once more at Red Hood, who for some reason was in his apartment at - Danny glanced at the clock - three in the morning. He seemed perfectly content to be digging through Danny’s fridge, if a little sheepish at being caught.

    He should probably be more angry that his apartment was broken into. He absolutely was when he first woke to the uncomfortable feeling of an uninvited guest in his lair, but after seeing the vigilante’s arms laden with food his metaphorical hackles relaxed. The apartment was shitty anyway. 

   If anything, Danny was confused as to why he was here judging his fridge’s contents and playing Tetris with tupperware. It wasn’t like they knew each other. 

   Danny blinked a third time just to really make sure he was seeing what he was seeing, "...Hi?" 

   "Hey,"  Red Hood unfroze, seemingly recovered from being caught, and resumed stuffing what looked like a container of tamales into his fridge. 

   Danny couldn’t help but feel sullen at the dismissal. He'd woken up only for the admittedly hot trespasser with thick thighs to barely glance at him. Unacceptable. 

   "Do you want anything to drink?"  Danny must have been momentarily possessed by the ghost of Midwestern manners with how urgent the offer seemed. 

   "Nah," Red Hood stuffed another container into the fridge, turning to look back at Danny, "You don't have any allergies, do you?"

   "Nah."

   Red Hood nodded, pulling out a bag of rotten lettuce. He held it away from himself like it might try to bite him. In Danny’s experience, it very well could. 

   “Do you ever clean out your fridge?”

   Danny shrugged, “It’s finals week. I’ve got to keep my GPA above 3.5 if I want to keep my scholarship. No chores. Only study.”

   Red Hood nodded solemnly as he threw the lettuce into the trash, “No chores. Only study.”

   They fell into silence. Danny watched as the crime lord sifted through his fridge, pulling out rotten food as he went. “Is this because I decked that mugger? Cause’ he deserved it.”

   Red Hood very pointedly threw the expired milk carton into the trash can.

   “Okay then…” Danny yawned, “Well if that's all I’m going back to bed.”

   “Kay.”

   Danny shrugged, turned on his heel, and left the crime lord to rifle through his kitchen.

___👻___

   When Danny awoke the next day, he was greeted by a clean apartment. The absence of crumbs on the freshly swept floor felt odd on his feet, although it was certainly much more pleasant. The trash had been taken out and a new bag had already been installed. He passed by the sink on the way to make coffee, the dishes that had been filling it suspiciously absent. 

   Danny would deny to the ancients and back that his knees went weak when he found the coffee maker already set and filled with grounds... his sister must never know. 

   As he waited for the cup to brew, he opened his fridge for creamer only to come face to face with more home cooked food than he’d ever seen in his life. Danny pulled the food out plastic container by plastic container to stare at in disbelief. Tamales, chicken mole, Mexican rice, enchiladas, and carne asada… It was only a handful of containers, but still. It wasn’t as if his parents had done much in the way of cooking with all their time spent in the lab. Jazz could throw together something basic but nothing like this.

   The local hot crime lord slash vigilante had broken in at three in the morning to feed him and clean his apartment. Huh.

  No time to think about that. He has a final on differential equations in five hours and minimal time to cram. Danny stirs the creamer into his coffee, heats up some Mexican rice, and sits down at the untouched mess of notebooks, paper, and textbooks on his kitchen table. 

   He studies until he has to leave for the exam, only getting up to refill his coffee and get more food. The tamales are pretty fricken good, but they make it hard to focus on the numbers scribbled across his notebook. It’s like each bite is urging him to go back into the kitchen and cook, which is odd considering that Danny can’t cook and he already has enough food to last him through the next day or two (courtesy of the sexy crime lord). 

   He leaves the exam room feeling good only for his mood to immediately crumble when he remembers that he has an aerodynamics final at eight the next morning followed by gasdynamics at one. He takes a brief break to faceplant on the table, scream, refill his coffee for the umpteenth time, and eat some more food but inevitably resigns himself to pulling an all-nighter. Time becomes liquid after that. It’s all just a blur of numbers and properties and instructional videos. 

   At some point, he registers another presence in the apartment. Danny recognizes the ecto signature from the night before so he pays it no mind. Let Hood poke around, Danny has to read more about Newton’s Third Law. What was he going to do? Feed him again?

   The answer was apparently yes. 

   The background noise of shuffling in the fridge and washing empty containers stops and is replaced by soft, mechanical-sounding breaths. Hood is standing next to him, plastic container in hand as he watches Danny run through the Quizlet on his laptop. 

   Danny’s got around eighty percent of the terms memorized. Just another twenty percent to go. He types in the answer for a new blank. 

   Red Hood pokes his shoulder.

   Danny grumbles. His response came back wrong.

   His shoulder is poked again.

   Danny ignores it and moves on to the next blank.

   He continues unbothered for an uncertain amount of time. The words on the screen are blurry like he is trying to read underwater. His mouth splits into an entirely too wide, jaw-cracking yawn. His uninvited guest coos at him as Danny rubs at his eyes. The next thing he knows, his laptop is shut closed and moved away. It feels like any and all visual processing is delayed. Danny stares blankly at the spot the computer used to sit.

   Something slides in front of him to replace the laptop. His core chirps when he realizes it's food. Hood’s answering chirp as he guides a fork into his hand is deep and rumbly with the faint stutterings of a purr. Danny starts to purr in return as he sleepily munches on the casserole.

    Before long the empty plate is taken away. Danny slumps down on the newfound table space and tries to fight off sleep. 

   “I think it's time for you to go to bed.”

   “Noooooo! I’v gotta study fr' aero’namics.”

   “You’re slurring your words there, handsome.”

   Danny’s sleep-deprived brain screeched to a halt. His core chirped to attention, “Flat’ry ain’t gettin’ you nowhere.”

   “It was worth a shot.”

    Danny smushed his face further into the wood to hide his blush and distracted himself by blindly reaching for his coffee mug. Upon noticing, the vigilante moved it out of reach. Danny whined into the table.

   “You can’t overwork yourself like this, Danny,” Red Hood carried the mug to the sink and poured it down the drain. Cruel, cruel man. “I know you’ve got exams but your scores won’t be any good if you go into them like this. You've got to take care of yourself,”  He lightly squeezed Danny’s shoulder. Danny hadn’t even heard him move across the kitchen. “Can you do that, darlin’? For me?”

    Danny groaned, “F’ne. But only cause’ ur hot.”

   The vigilante snorted. It sounded odd through the helmet but not bad. “I’m happy to hear it! Now let's get you to bed.”

___👻___

   Contrary to popular belief, Danny wasn’t stupid.

   He had been helping his parents in the lab since he was four, and he was nearly a straight-A student before the accident. He was an aerospace engineering major with a hefty GPA of 3.8, and most importantly, he’s had extensive lessons on ghosts, the Infinite Realms, and their culture. 

   He could be a bit oblivious, but he always got there in the end. 

   So when Danny woke up the next morning and realized that last night wasn’t a dream, he had an epiphany. The thought kept running through his head as he stared at the food in the fridge, the clean apartment, and the prepped coffee maker. 

   He was being courted. 

   He was being courted by the super hot and apparently undead crime lord who ran the haunt on the other side of the street. 

   Danny had never been courted before! 

   Sure, occasionally there was someone who tried to shoot their shot, but it always fell flat in the end. It was an unfortunate side effect of being undead. Every human relationship he had felt… lacking. Like it was missing something. 

   Val had come pretty close. All the fighting and shooting felt like a mimicry of ghostly courtship behavior. It's what had drawn Danny to her in the first place, but Val wasn’t fighting him in a display of power and capability. She had genuinely wanted to end him. 

   There was also the incident with Kitty, but she was overshadowing Paulina and mimicking human behaviors. There was never any ghostly courtship involved, and besides, she was only dating him to make Johnny jealous. 

   This is Danny’s first time being properly courted!

   What is he going to do about it?

   He decided that the question could wait until after finals.

   The next few days pass by much the same as before: a tortuous cycle of studying, caffeine, minimal sleep, screaming, and exams. Red Hood continues to stop by and deliver food. Danny has got to figure out the dude’s actual name or a nickname or something. He refuses to keep calling his potential partner Red Hood. When you take away the scary crime lord persona it just sounds like a condom brand. He could always use a pet name, but it feels wrong given that Danny hasn’t shown much reciprocation outside of allowing Hood into his lair. Instead, Danny settles on greeting him with a trill and a series of chirps. 

   As soon as he finishes his last final he flops face down into bed. Tomorrow he’ll get to work on reciprocating Red Hood’s efforts. His kitchen is blessedly clean of any ecto contamination. Without the food fighting back, he should be able to whip up something presentable. How hard could following a recipe be?

___👻___

   Danny was wrong.  

   Staring at the stove which was somehow on fire, Danny couldn’t help but finally understand why Jazz had never allowed him in the kitchen. He quickly rushes to turn off the heat. Danny doesn’t have a fire extinguisher. He’s a broke college student with just enough money to live on the outskirts of Crime Alley. Why would he ever be able to afford a fire extinguisher? 

   Danny slams a lid over the pot to smother the flames erupting from it and wacks the stovetop with a damp towel. As the fire dies down he glares at the somehow burnt gnocchi sitting ever so innocently in boiling water. He probably could have just iced it. The ice would melt into water and put out the fire, right? 

   He takes another look at the ruined food as the bubbles die down and decides he’s probably just cursed. Not all hope is lost though, Danny reasons as he dumps the ruined gnocchi down the garbage disposal. So Italian cuisine was not his forte. That’s okay! He’ll just try a different recipe!

___👻___

   The recipe said quick and easy. 

   This was neither quick nor easy.

   He dumped the carbonized remains of food into the trash with a sigh. It was French toast! How could someone go so wrong with French toast? The kitchen looked like something had exploded in it for ancients’ sake! 

   Danny thunked his head onto the counter, uncaring of the milk and eggs coating it. An entire loaf of bread gone and not a single edible piece of toast to show for it! He groaned. Maybe he just… wasn’t cut out for this whole courting thing. 

   Dejectedly, he lifted his head and began to wipe down the counter with paper towels. He really liked Hood.

   He was funny! While he mostly left Danny alone during his study sessions, Danny had seen the viral videos. Hood knew how to crack a good death joke, and the compilations of him ragging on Batman were something to aspire to. 

   He cared for people! The sponsored soup kitchens and homeless programs were an open secret in Crime Alley, and the working girls were paid well. The street kids knew they were safe in the Alley because anyone who tried to touch them would end up with their head in a duffle bag. Red Hood protected them.

   And ancients was he hot! Thick thighs for days and strong arms that could probably lift Danny like a couple of grapes. Danny wouldn’t mind being thrown around by a guy like that. He would happily let him pin him to a wall and box him in and then Danny could sink his fangs into his shoulder and then- 

   Okay! Stop! Too far! That’s awfully ambitious for someone who can’t even cook a proper courting gift. Think, Danny, Think! 

  Okay… okay. So he can’t cook. That’s fine because Danny can build. He’s been building things since he was practically a toddler. He can make something easy peasy!

   What about a gun? Red Hood seemed to like guns. Danny’s core purred at the idea. If he had to guess, the vigilante had a protection obsession of some sort. A gun was something that could protect Red Hood but also be used to protect others in his haunt and directly feed into his obsession. Yes! The gun idea was good.

   But then again, Hood had been working with Batman more and more frequently, and with that had been using guns less and less. How often could the gun be used? No, no. This courting gift should be usable in all scenarios. 

   What about a knife? Yes! A knife could work! As far as Danny knew, Batman didn't have anything against knives. Surely a knife paled in comparison to Robin's katana. A knife was sneaky and quiet, good for stealth missions unlike a gun, and easier to carry for everyday use. 

   Danny hummed, nodding to himself. He’d do the knife first and save the gun for later. He was going to need supplies. 

   Danny wiped the dripping egg away from his forehead before it could get into his eyes. But first, he was going to need a shower.

___👻___

   So…

   It could’ve gone worse.

   Despite basically being raised reverse-engineering his parents’ inventions, Danny had never tried to make a knife. He could gut a microwave from the local back alley dumpster and Macgyver it into a functioning weapon, but building a makeshift forge on short notice and hammering steel down into a smooth curve was a whole different ballpark. Luckily the local trade school had a forge, and after some good old-fashioned bribery, they allowed Danny access. That was the first problem out of the way. Unfortunately, the second problem remained. It was fine. Danny was used to thinking on his feet. 

  After many YouTube videos and failed attempts Danny had a somewhat presentable blade. With a saw edge on the top and a sharp curve similar to a khukuri on the bottom, it certainly didn’t look like a beginner's design.

   He probably shouldn’t have skipped straight to a more advanced shape. Danny hadn’t managed to fix the slight warp of the blade, and maybe the practice beforehand would have done him some good. Regardless, it was too late to fix it after the ecto wash, and he didn’t think the warp would affect the performance too negatively. Besides, with the ectoplasm infused into it the knife should cut through ghosts with no problem. 

  Danny had spent entirely too long trying to find the perfect shade of red leather for the handle, but in the end, he accurately matched it to Red Hood’s helmet. He had wanted to incorporate some protective runes into the leather, but he had no idea how to make a lasting pattern that wouldn’t affect the user’s comfort. Eventually, he decided it was an idea to be saved for another project. 

   With his courting gift complete, all that was left to do was break into Red Hood’s lair and give it to him…

   That sounded wrong. Give the knife to him. It’s not an innuendo! Great. Now he’s thinking about those thick thighs again. Stop! Bad Danny!

   He shook himself to dispel the train of thought. Danny had a different, more pressing problem to deal with: How could he present a knife to a vigilante without it coming across as a threat? He didn’t have a box for it, and the knife didn’t have a sheath yet. He could always make himself the box and store it in his chest, but watching someone pull random items out of their body was apparently gross and disturbing, or so he’d been told. What if he just-

   Danny yanked open the kitchen junk drawer and began to root around. After a few seconds of sifting, he pulled out his prize and ever so gently stuck it to the knife. The green gift bow was squished on one end but remained comically large on the blade. He bounced up and down on his toes. It was so stupid that it just might work. 

   Feeling the cool rush of invisibility, Danny phased through the wall of his apartment to greet the early morning light beginning to peak over the buildings. Floating in the air for a minute, he absently fiddled with the bow on his courting gift. With the city starting to wake, Hood should be returning to his lair. 

   It didn’t take long for him to fly past the unseen territory lines and into Crime Alley. Danny had crossed through Hood’s haunt before. It had never felt aggressive like some in the Ghost Zone. Red Hood's haunt was more curious, probing with a warning to behave himself. The haunt felt different this time around. Now it felt welcoming rather than wary, warm. If Danny closed his eyes, he could almost imagine being held in a protective embrace. His core hummed in response, seeking out the other’s resonance. 

   Danny had never been to Hood’s lair. He hadn’t even been given directions, but he didn’t need them. He'd simply follow Hood’s ecto signature to where the haunt’s energy was most concentrated. Like the dead equivalent of a bloodhound. 

   Danny took his time meandering toward the heart of the haunt. He’d never been this far into Crime Alley before, and he didn’t want to get turned around. That was a lie. Danny was nervous and stalling. Doubts flew unbridled through his head.

   What if the knife wasn’t good enough? What if the bow didn’t work? What if Red Hood thought he was threatening him? What if Danny blew his shot? Danny had already screwed up so many other things in his life, he didn’t want to screw this up too!

   There was only so long he could stall. Jittery with nerves, Danny floated outside a decrepit apartment building. The entire structure was practically drenched in Red Hood’s ecto signature, but it radiated in waves from a unit on the top floor. Danny took a breath to steady his racing heart and struggled to quiet his core. It was now or never. 

   He cautiously phased halfway through the wall, chirping in greeting. The apartment was clean and orderly. The fireplace and full bookshelves gave it a homey feel that sharply contrasted with the worn and weathered bricks on the outer wall. The lack of weapons was a surprise. Even if he couldn't see them Danny figured they were still there, well hidden in the otherwise normal apartment. 

   A surprised sound draws his attention to the man on the couch. He’s built like a quarterback, lounging on one side as he struggles to stitch a laceration across his ribcage with a needle in one hand and a handheld mirror in the other. It's hard not to get distracted by the autopsy scar running cleanly across his collarbone and down to his pelvis. Danny wants to lick it.

   Piercing blue eyes search the apartment, arm lowering the mirror. Danny is thankful that he's still invisible. With the heat flooding to his ears, he’s sure he’s as red as a tomato. Danny’s practically drooling at tousled black and white hair and the long scar reaching up from under his jaw to his hairline like a flower stretching for the sun. His crooked nose, clearly broken and healed many times over, only adds to his beauty. Red Hood is truly a modern-day Adonis.

   ��Hood’s wounded side finally registers in Danny’s brain, rearranging his priorities and catapulting his obsession to the front. Immediately he lets his invisibility drop, absently shoving the knife into his chest for safekeeping. Hood makes a distressed sound as he does so which urges Danny forward. His hands hover worriedly over the man as he pushes as much help/comfort/safety/concern into his aura as possible. 

   He reaches to take the threaded needle from Red Hood’s hand only to be nudged away.

   “It’s fine. I can do it myself.”

   "Hood, let me help."

   "Jason,” he licks his lips, “My name is Jason."

   "Jason," Danny gently cups Jason’s face in his hands, "Please let me help, Jason."

   Blue eyes gaze into his own. The ever-so-faint hints of green within them are captivating, swirling in a hypnotic dance that leaves Danny in a daze. Finally, Jason looks away and nods, breaking the trance between them and passing the needle over.

   Danny allows himself to revert to the mindset of his vigilante days. He stitches the wound with a single-minded focus, practiced hands falling back into a familiar rhythm. Jason watches the entire time, staring intently at his face as he works. Danny struggles to keep his core quiet and pretends not to notice, taping a bandage over the cut. His fingers graze over Jason's body, checking it over for any other injuries. Jason allows it to happen with a distinct feeling of affection/amusement. 

   “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

   “Nah. The kevlar usually prevents stuff like this. I was just unlucky.”

   “Good.” 

   Danny runs his fingers through the white tuft in Jason’s hair, pushing the strands out of his face. His core kickstarts like an engine with a vengeance, humming and searching for Jason’s core song in anticipation. Danny squeaks, stumbling backward. He smothers the sound and quiets his core, but with the look on Jason’s face, he hadn’t been quick enough.

   “Sorry!” Danny stutters out, flushing. 

    Jason’s expression shifts to confusion, “Why are you apologizing?”

   “I’m being way too forward,” Danny drags his hands down his face in embarrassment, “We haven’t had a spar yet and fuck! I haven’t even given you your courting gift yet, but here I am! Invading your space and trying to harmonize! I’m so sorry.”

    “Lucky for you I like forward,” Jason gently grasped his hands, lowering them away from his face. His palms felt warm against Danny’s skin, “Is that what you shoved into your chest earlier? A courting gift?” Jason punctuated the sentence with a gentle kiss to Danny's slow pulse.

   Danny nodded, stunned. Tearing his gaze away from Jason’s lips, he reached into his chest and pulled out the knife. Jason chuckles, his eyes crinkling in mirth, “You put a bow on it?”

   Danny grinned, his fangs on full display, “Well I had to make it presentable, didn’t I?” 

   He gets down on one knee, head bowed and knife held upwards in offering as if he were a knight presenting a sword to a king. Jason gingerly lifts it out of his hands, cradling it like a precious gem. Danny watches as his fingers trace the edge. 

   “It feels like you,” Jason looks to Danny for answers, eyes wide with wonder and a beautiful flush on his face.

   “I wanted to make sure it was effective against ghosts, but it's hard to find enough clean ectoplasm around here. I sorta just… used my own?” Danny rubs the back of his neck with a wince, “Do you like it?”

   He waits in anxious anticipation as Jason stands from the couch. Jason sets the blade gently down on the coffee table behind Danny before tugging him into his arms, “I love it, baby,” his words vibrate over a purr that Danny can feel in his bones, “Just don’t go hurting yourself for courting gifts anymore.”

   Danny groaned, tucking his face under Jason’s chin. “You have no idea how much that narrows my options down.” 

   Jason laughs. 

   Danny pulls away to look up at him, lightly batting at Jason’s peck “I’m serious, Jason! I can’t cook for shit! You’re gonna need to wait a long ass time until I can get my hands on more ecto. I hope you’re ready to wait because it’s going to take me months to build that gun now!”

   “You wanted to make me a gun?” 

   “Yeah? I was going to have one ready in the next few weeks but-”

   Jason’s smile is dazzling as he leans down to press his lips to Danny’s. Danny forgets to breathe as he melts into the kiss. He’s tugged forward until they are chest-to-chest on the couch, cores close together. Danny’s not sure whose core starts to hum first, but the sound is unmistakable as they waver between pitches. Danny bites at Jason’s lips, making a pleased sound when they part for him.

   It’s weird to be doing this before a spar. It’s backward, unconventional. Danny can’t find it in himself to care.

   It’s a wondrous thing when their cores synchronize. Something finally clicks, like a lock snapping into place, and suddenly Danny can feel so much. The humming harmony of their cores permeates every single one of Danny’s nerves. The rush of giddy happiness is unlike anything he’s felt before. He can feel Jason, too. The rampant emotions fling between them until it's hard to tell whose is whose. In Jason’s arms with a core bond in place, Danny has never felt so secure in his life. 

   This. This is what he's been missing. 

   Danny breaks away from their kiss to nip at Jason’s jawline, paying special attention to the scar. Jason makes a pleased sound, tugging lightly at his hair.

   “Your teeth are sharp as fuck.”

   “Aren’t yours?”

   Jason nuzzles under Danny’s shirt collar and into his shoulder. Danny shudders as he feels canines dig into his skin. They’re sharp, but not as sharp as his. 

   Danny giggles, pressing a kiss to Jason’s hair. “I want to see how skilled you actually are with those teeth. Once you’ve healed we can have a proper spar.”

   “I’ll show you a proper spar,” Jason grumbles. 

  Suddenly Danny is pinned, lying on the couch with Jason’s weight on top of him. Jason kisses his cheek, tucking his head back into the crook of his neck with a contented sigh. It's like the world's best weighted blanket, Danny thinks as his eyes droop shut in relaxation.

   They remain like that in silence, basking in the positive emotions and comfort of their new bond. It’s about ten minutes later that Danny finally breaks it.

   “Why me?”

   “Hmm?”

   “Just… why court me? I know I pass through your haunt now and then but we’ve only actually seen each other like… once. What could I have possibly done to catch your attention?”

   “You punched a mugger.”

   “Yeah… so?”

   “You knocked the fucker out in one blow before I could even lift a finger.”

   “And?”

   Jason lifted his head to give him a pointed look.

   Danny stared back.

   Oh…

   Oh!

   “Do you have a competency kink!?”

   Jason flushed, ducking his head back down with a groan. 

[arminsumi]

THE SPRING I MET YOU

GOJO さとる

He hates spring because of "allergies"; he blames his sniffly nose and red eyes on the season.

Warnings : angst (heartbreak)

Playme : First Love/Late Spring

SPRING 2006

You had met Gojo Satoru through a common friend — Geto Suguru.

Oh how many times had you heard him say, like a broken record;

"You really have to meet this guy, you're gonna click with him I just know it. You're like the same person."

You're like the same person.

Suguru'd nag you to meet Satoru ever since he entered Jujutsu High, because he thought he was... you know, just the kinda guy you'd fall in love with. And he hated to see you moping around, lonely and hopelessly seeking a lover that was certainly not "coming to you on a summer breeze" like your mother insisted.

So you met Satoru, by Suguru's demand.

And your first impression of him was: oh no; he's an idiot.

A loud-mouthed, obnoxious idiot. Inappropriate. Overconfident. Irresponsible.

And his first impression of you was: eh, she's too shy.

A put-together, attractive woman. Too proper. Too shy. Too responsible.

If you and him were words, then you were antonyms to each other.

But that didn't matter, it was just the peripheral view you had of each other; something still drew you into each other. Like the universe was drawing up a constellation especially for you and him.

What did you have in common? Nothing. What did you like about his personality? Nothing. But Satoru was always nobody but himself and you liked that. That's the thing about him that saved you from viewing him as an unworthy madman.

And you? He thought you were always trying too hard to be somebody else, someone you were not, someone you could never be — and he wanted to change that. To see what was beneath the diffidence, beneath the plastic sheet that you covered over the image of your self.

He wanted to provoke you more than anyone else, not for the purpose of eliciting a cheap reaction and feeling fleeting amusement, but because he wanted to get you out of your shell.

His heart was on his sleeve, and yours was wrapped up in winter layers even though it was a warm spring. Satoru peeled off the layers one by one, until finally he found his gold; your sweet, tender, loving heart. And once he found it he grabbed it in a way that showed he intended for no one else to steal it from him; his love, all his.

It was just beautiful from then on. You and him. Satoru and you. The two stars in the constellation that the universe specifically designed just for you and him. Only you and him.

How did the first date happen? It just happened. How did the first kiss happen? It just happened. How did the first slow dance happen? It just happened. How did the boyfriend girlfriend thing happen? It just happened.

Everything between you and him always just happened. Like Tetris blocks falling perfectly into place. Like puzzle pieces perfectly connecting. Like clockwork.

No friction, no tediousness, no miscommunication between your stars. You and him shared your minds, bodies and souls with each other.

Like you were the same person.

SPRING 2009

Satoru's face trembled and nose reddened as tiny tears rolled out of his eyes.

This was the first time he had cried in three years. And it was a first for having an emotional breakdown in public, in the middle of a busy train station.

"Satoru, I'm sorry." you said to him. "I have to start my life."

"But we've already started a life here, together!" he yelled with a broken voice, in the middle of that busy train station. People looked.

It was Spring of 2009; you were breaking up with a 20 yr old Gojo Satoru as sensibly and sensitively as you could, but he still acted like a child.

When you and him had gotten together in 2006, both of you were just simple-minded, carefree teenagers who had yet to be shaped by the hurt of life.

Oh him and his prismatic feelings, they spill out the edge at the right angle and show a display of everything you never thought he felt.

"Things have changed. I've changed, and so have you. We have to move on from each other." you said, and he shook his head and looked at you like he was falling to pieces.

"I haven't changed! I'm still your boy. C-can't we talk about this at the cafe—

"—Satoru, my train is here."

SPRING 2018

"—Sensei, the train is here!"

He was interrupted back then just like he's been interrupted now from his daydream of you.

"What's the matter?"

Gojo-sensei's blindfold soaks up his tears, but it can't muffle his sniffling or reddened cheeks and ears. His nose wrinkles up and wiggles to the side as he sniffles and runs the back of his hand under his nostrils.

"Allergies. This is why I hate spring." he chuckles.

"Aw, get allergy medicine."

"Yeah yeah, I will. You rascals catch your train before it runs off without you." Gojo

「じゃあ！」 Yuji raises a hand of goodbye to his teacher and boards the train with Megumi and Nobara.

He waves goodbye to his students, lifting his blindfold to catch a peek before the train carries them out of sight. His smile drops when they can no longer see him at all.

He stares for a long moment at the place where you once stood, and remembers two memories;

One late spring you were on your tip-toes kisssing him for the first time.

And one late spring you were waiting for your train, breaking his heart with goodbye.

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[sirfrogsworth]

Meeting my longtime artist and good friend, Chris, IN REAL LIFE!

So, I hadn't been to a restaurant in over a decade. I can't even remember which restaurant since it was so long ago. But in the past few weeks I've now been to TWO restaurants.

I am becoming a social butterfly. 

And it is exhausting.

But also good.

First I reconnected with my high school best friend, John.

And that went great.

But then the opportunity to see my friend Chris (a.k.a @whosthewhatnow ) came up only a few days later. And this close proximity of social events scared me a bit, but I have been feeling much better since they figured out my heart thing, so I decided to try and do both things even though they were only a few days apart. 

The key to this was strategic resting. As soon as I got home from seeing John, I got in bed and I didn't get out of it until it was time to see Chris. And that was just enough recovery time to pull this off. Typically a short outing requires 2-3 days of rest after. 

I had never met Chris in real life. He has done nearly all of the artwork for my website and comics over the past decade. And he was a main character in my CRAPPRnauts series.

We know each other so well and it is crazy that we've never seen each other with our very own eyeballs.

He is such an amazing artist. He works fast and he adds so many cool extra details that you can stare at his comic panels multiple times and catch a new joke or easter egg each time. He is a dream to work with and my Corg Life series was only successful because he did such a wonderful job bringing Otis to life in comic form. 

So we decided to meet up at a restaurant with his friend Michael and then I was going to take a nice portrait of him after dinner. Chris had never had a professional photo taken of himself and I decided to fix that.

I told him I had a mobile photography setup. Which, in reality, is a trunk full of lights and stands and other various camera gear that I definitely won't need, but bring anyway. It's "mobile" in that it all fits in my car if you are good at Tetris (which I am).

The restaurant was downtown and I had visions of St. Louis's famous Gateway Arch in the background of Chris's portrait. I thought that would be such a cool shot. I could see it in my head and I even dreamed about it.

So I got in my car and headed downtown and my GPS told me to exit at 249B. But I kept looking and I couldn't see the sign for 249B.

This is how much road I had left when I finally was able to see the exit for 249B.

So I ended up taking 249A and going straight to East St. Louis.

Which, if you believe the headlines, is not a place you ever want to be.

Google Maps and I have been having issues lately. They also tried to get me to take the spooky way home that night, but thankfully I actually knew the non-spooky way back from when I used to go to Cardinal games with my parents as a kid.

My short term memory was trashed by shock therapy. And so was a lot of my long term memory. But it finally came through in a pinch and remembered something useful.

I only had to loop around and cross a bridge so I didn't really do anything but touch the edge of East St. Louis. I was mostly concerned about being late for dinner more than its scary reputation. Usually those news stories about a place being "dangerous" are actually just racist and hurtful to people stuck in poverty. I mean, technically my house is in a "dangerous" neighborhood, and we do have trouble with petty crime in some spots, but aside from a few dinged-up mailboxes, I've never felt unsafe in my home.

On the way back to regular St. Louis I could see the Arch on the horizon at sunset and it was kind of magical. And I wasn't able to get a good shot of it, but it sure looked pretty from my point of view. 

My photos kind of remind me of the beginning of movies like Training Day where they are trying to show you gritty, dutch angle shots of the city out of the car window to give you a sense of the location.

As I approached the restaurant I invented a new genre I call "stoplight photography." The sky was orange and the streets of St. Louis were just asking to be photographed. But I wasn't willing to die to get neat photos, so I just took them at every red light.

The big trick was trying to edit the dark area at the top of my windshield out of the photos to make it look like I didn't take these pictures from my car.

After a 15 minute detour through Illinois I arrived at my destination—a Mexican place called Rosalita's. It had a beautiful sign, so I took that literal sign as a metaphorical sign it was a nice place to get a quesadilla. 

Dinner was great. Both signs were right and their quesadilla was very tasty. Chris and I both got one, so we are quesadilla twins. The waitress was one of those "I can remember your order without writing anything down" types. And I am one of those, "I get anxiety when things aren't written down" types. And, to her credit, she did not forget our orders. But she did forget to give us silverware and napkins. So I still feel like my anxiety was valid. 

We told sad stories of the pups we lost. But we also had a lot of fun and laughed and I got to meet Michael who turned out to be an absolute mensch. I sometimes have trouble meeting new people with my social anxiety, but he was very affable and made me feel comfortable with his presence almost right away. He was a fan of Otis and mentioned he still has a Super Otis shirt. I always get choked up hearing that Otis is still loved. Hopefully we get to meet again. 

Dinner ended and it was picture time.

I asked Chris if he wanted the high effort photo or the low effort photo. Either we figure out how to get to the Arch or we find a spot near the restaurant and just take his portrait there. Chris and Michael had a driver because they were coming from a big conference and getting to the Arch would have been complicated. So we decided to go with the low effort option. 

I found a cool shop nearby that had an LED wall that changed to all sorts of different colors. And I thought that would make a neat background and give a colorful edge light on Chris's face. I pulled my car near that spot and started unloading my trunk full of photo gear.

I think Chris and Michael were a little overwhelmed when I started pulling camera gear out of my trunk like a clown pulling an endless handkerchief out of his mouth. But as far as photo setups go, it was actually pretty minimal. 

Light, giant battery, light stand, umbrella, tripod, camera, rolling walker with seat.

My dad's old rollator came in clutch because I wanted to shoot from a low angle and it is hard for me to bend down. In fact, I think I'm going to look into getting an all terrain version so I can do more outdoor photoshoots.

I started shooting in the middle of a downtown sidewalk. And I was super anxious. I could not focus (my brain, not my camera). I was very distracted with all of the people walking by and staring. I was not sure if any of the photos were turning out. I wasn't even sure if they were in focus (my camera, not my brain) because I had not yet had my lens calibrated. But down the street there was a guy with an old school boombox playing random music. His music helped to drown out the ambient noise and gave me some comfort.

I had no clue if the photos were any good, but when I got home and checked them on my computer, I realized I have 12 years of experience and muscle memory built up. I probably should have just trusted myself because the photos all turned out great.

I think Chris can now officially say he has had a professional portrait taken of himself.

This photo has been officially loved by Chris's girlfriend and mother.

There is no greater seal of approval and I am honored.

I was able to comp in any of the colors the wall displayed from other shots in case Chris is feeling a little more green in the future.

A literal rainbow of options.

I also liked this one, though it is a little more "environmental portrait" than regular portrait.

And I got some nice photos of our little group to help us remember the night. 

And I got a bunch of photos of Chris making silly faces like Calvin at his school photoshoot. 

I love this woman's reaction to our little impromptu sidewalk photo shenanigans.

After we said our goodbyes and I gave my friend a hug, I was a little bummed I didn't get to photograph him at the Arch like I had dreamed.

But then I realized I had my own car and it was capable of taking me places. (I actually haven't gotten used to that after not driving for nearly 15 years.)

So I decided to drive a few blocks over to Kiener Plaza—a park with a view of the Arch. 

TO BE CONTINUED...

[psshaw]

I think [friendships are becoming more transactional] for two reasons. The first is because few people have the skills to be supportive to each other. I don't mean the social skills but the literal skills. It used to be that some people could work on cars and get them going, and some people do simple house repairs like replacing panes of glass and patching plaster, and some people could do simple tailoring, like taking in a dress and shortening pants, and some people could do an at home perm, and some people could tell you which hobby store in town had the best supply of cotton yarn, and some people could tell you the process you needed to apply for community college and get in. Odds were you had the chance to be grateful because there were so many people who could do things for you that you couldn't reasonably to do for yourself. Most people belonged to a social group that had a range of useful skills and information. But now most people do not have a variety of life skills that they can share with other people. If you need cotton yarn, or application forms for the community college, you look it up on the internet. And if your toaster doesn't work, you throw it out because you don't have a friend who can replace the cord. You go to a hairdresser or a mechanic or pick a random contractor to call to fix the hole in the wall so you don't lose your damage deposit. This is not to say that people no skills they can share - you maybe have a go to person who will help you with your excel formulas, and one favourite friend who is the Tetris expert you call to help you when you need to load your car for a move. But there are far fewer ways we can do each other favours now. That means money may be the only thing we have to even the score.

Jane the Brown on Metafilter

[power-handmaiden]

Day 308: The Long Tetromino Piece Falls Into My Butt Just In Time

As a fan who knows about Dr. Tingle's struggle with the stress that comes from perfectionism, I see it so clearly in this tingler. Playing tetris and losing the game because you let the pieces all pile up while you were waiting for that long one to maximize points... it's a recognizable bit of self-sabotage for most people familiar with the game. Such a perfect metaphor for anyone who lets their problems in life pile up to an untenable place because they insist on perfection to the point that they can't just get things done at a reasonable pace.

The protagonist clearly already has a bit of this tendency at the start of the tingler when gaming is just a hobby for him, but it doesn't keep him from excelling at his favorite game. If anything, his insistence on high-scoring moves is something that makes him so good at it. It's the added pressure of trying to turn this hobby into something more, though, that turns it into a real problem for him. The pressure of an audience, and potential financial gain. In addition to battling with perfectionism, this tingler is also about the potential of a bad outcome from monetizing one's hobbies, and putting pressure on something that used to be an outlet for stress, not a cause of it.

This isn't one of the many tinglers that's overtly about art or creativity... but I have a feeling that there's something deeply personal about Dr. Tingle's experience as a creator that he's put into this story. It fits perfectly next to all the other blocks he has stacked every time he has described his experience of writing tinglers. That makes this one feel special to me. It's one I'm defintely going to re-visit after the year is over.

[catsharky]

Are we still gonna get more of the Rolan comic?

I've gotten a couple of asks about this, so sorry to the other people who asked previously and didn't get a reply!

There is absolutely going to be more! The rest of the Rolan comic is completely written and partly roughed out, and I do intend to see it through to the end. Unfortunately this has been a pretty accurate depiction of how 2024 has been treating me:

It's been Flat Stanley-ing my ass.

I will get back to it, it's just been a case where something had to give and unfortunately my comics wound up being the thing I had to put on the backburner 😭

If anyone is curious, I rambled about what's been up under the cut:

The long and short of it is that early this year my partner and I very suddenly and stressfully went from being part-time to full-time parents, in a house that is not big enough to have a family of 4 living in it full time. We also gained 2 additional pets at the same time, bringing us up to a total of 4 (2 cats, 1 snake and 1 hamster).

While that would make it cramped enough, my partner and I have lost a combined total of 5 family members in the past 3 years, and ignoring the emotional toll, we wound up being responsible for the belongings of three of them. Every time we manage to get our house a little bit cleared out, another person dies and we have to find room for another house's worth of stuff!!!

So I have been hanging on to my sanity by a thread cause it's hard to concentrate on comics when I am stuck working in a room where Fortnite or Minecraft youtubers or worse are all but constantly playing in the background.

On top of all that, all of the windows in our house had to be replaced because they hadn't been updated or well maintained since the place was built and the frames were rotting and growing mold. So we got to spend a couple of months trying to tetris our house into a state where the window company could have room to work last week.

And if that wasn't all enough, my little old man of a cat (who is my baby and largely my responsibility) developed keratitis- which despite all efforts continued to worsen over the last several months-, was diagnosed with diabetes, and finally had to have his eye removed this week. I've discovered new stress responses I didn't even know I had thanks to that, and I've been sick with a hellcold during both this and the window replacement 🙃

I've also been unemployed since December, which is both a blessing and a curse because on one hand I think I probably would have had an actual mental breakdown by now if I'd had to deal with all this while working full time, but on the other hand we can't move until I have a job again ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So basically this year has been very AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA and I would really love it if whoever is controlling the game of the sims I'm living in would stop putting me in the torment nexus right about now, please and thank you.

Joke's on them though because I'm both a creature of spite and incapable of giving up, so in the words of Disco Elysium, 'Life gets hard but we go on' and we do!!! 😤

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

Would you mind sharing your planning process of the comic? I'm starting to brainstorm a fiction idea and right now the ideas are very messy and I wanted to know if you could show how you plan what happens on a season and on an episode, maybe with an example of a season episode you already published, so I can learn how to organize myself?

I really, REALLY appreciate you coming to ask me for help with this. It's awesome to hear that you respect my writing enough to seek me out as an authority on such things, or at least enough to ask for advice.

But I'm gonna be real with you - what you're asking for is not a quick slapdash reply that I can whip up in my free time. What you're asking for is an hour long video essay (with examples) on the level of an educational creative writing online course.

And I--I don't know if I have it in me to do that right now. Not with everything else I'm trying to do. (Sorry.)

BUT.

What I can give you instead is a basic rundown, and maybe some recommendations for where to this stuff.

To be absolutely brief: For me, the best way to visualize how I plan would be to make a flowchart.

Keep in mind that....... I don't ever actually.......MAKE. A flowchart.

Mostly, I am just using this as a visual representation of how my ideas flow from and to each other in a coherent way. The reality is that this skill is something you have to develop until it becomes second nature.

As an example, let's take the episode(s) where I introduced Seaglass.

This little arc was planned in season 3, but really started to come into play in Season 4.

To make it happen, I started with the obvious main idea: SEAGLASS.

I then broke it down into multiple smaller ideas:

If you notice, the main plot of this doesn't even start when the Seaglass exposition does. Steven makes Seaglass back in season 3, but doesn't know about it. But these ideas are still important to acknowledge as being a part of the main plot.

I then fill in MORE space between these larger ideas.

This whole set of steps is just a logical progression of me playing 'how do we get there'. I make up plot points and say 'what happens to get from A to B?'

And keep in mind - this may seem kinda obvious. That's because... it should be! But that's how the planning happens.

Realistically, it's just a bunch of asking myself questions. The same exact questions I refuse to answer in asks.

"What happens next? What would happen if....?" "Why doesn't Steven know about ....?"

"How would Steven find Seaglass if he doesn't know she exists?"

Well she's small and green, kinda like Peridot. So he goes looking for Peridot and mistakes Seaglass for her.

BAM! You've got yourself a plot point. That's a plan, baybee!

And then just kinda rinse and repeat.

And eventually, you want to make sure that you have some sort of connection back to the main plot point. In this case, it's the realization that Steven CREATED LIFE.

Again, I want to stress - I don't actually........plan.... by writing this down.

I do this process in my head. Often, multiple times per chapter, writing and editing to make it make more and more sense. The important part is about asking yourself questions. The same questions your readers should be asking.

"Why is this character doing this?" "Why is this event happening NOW?" "How will A find out when they realize what B has done?" "What is the BEST time for B to find out...? What is the WORST time?"

All of this takes imagination. It isn't about organization. It's moreso about learning to tetris plot events into their most snug spaces. It's about thinking of events as a staircase, which eventually leads to a larger staircase of plot arcs.

And as a final note, I will say that someday, when I'm less busy, I may make a video about plot. But it will take more time and effort, and for now, please just watch videos by other creators! I'm sure they're just as good at it as I am.

[waffledforbreakfast]

Nagi - Catchup!! - [BLLK X READER SCENARIOS]

Staring: Nagi x f!reader

[ BLLK Scenario Masterlist ]

TW: heavy ooc, bad grammar, bad spelling, bad formatting, cringe, scuff, etc.

>First Encounters 

Nagi is playing online games 24/7, but never really made friends there. It’s not like he had much of a reason too, most players he’d only play with once in his life. Until a while ago. This user, [user] was in every 3 games he played, every time he played Mario Party, they were there. Even across other games! Tetris, honkai, pjsk, etc!

It was probably mainly because he was playing Local everytime- but Nagi was very interested in this user

He was world hopping in Genshin once, and just happened to join [user]’s world

Nagi immediately recognized the gamertag, and sent a message, 

[Ch0k1] “Are you [user]? I keep seeing you in all my games”

[user] “OH IT’S YOU” “CH0K1 right? Yea ur everywhere LOL”

[CH0k1] “Mhm, didn’t think i’d find someone who plays so many of the games i do

You guys kept the convo going as he played with you, asking him about random things, game recommendations, manga he likes, literally anything

This was the first friend Nagi made on his own, he was actually pretty excited to talk to someone

Eventually you had to go, so you logged off as Nagi played a bit more. But it didn’t feel the same without you, so he hopped off soon after.

It was funny, you two would hop on around the same time everyday, play for a while together, and maybe switch games once in a while.

After some time, he asked for your discord, since you two played so often together anyway. He hadn’t heard your voice at all, and he wanted to at least know you before he could admit to crushing tolerating you

He got your username and added you quickly. You both sent the wumpus wave emoji and friended each other

“Wait, one mutual friend?” Nagi looked at the tab and clicked it, was there someone you both knew??

Mutual Friends - 1 -> Reo 💸💸

Nagi took a stared at it for a moment in confusion before messaging Reo, 

You Reo, do yk @[user]?

$$ Reo $$ Yea she’s in our math class??  Doesn’t she sit right beside you?

Nagi was shocked, there was no way… RIGHT??? He trusted Reo though, and maybe he could meet you

You Ur friends w/her right? Can i meet her?

$$ Reo $$ I mean but you don’t have to ask me lol She’s pretty chill Wait how do you know her-?? (seen) NAGI??? (seen)

>Second Encounters

Reo did in fact mange to hook you two up, but he was curious about what was going on between you two, so he invited the both of you to his place on a random weekend.

You got there and he welcomed you in, you’ve gone over a few times so you were pretty comfortable. 

“You said you wanted me to meet your friend right?” you asked him “tbh i didn’t know you had friends besides Nagi…” you took a sip of some champagne

“Wowww [Y/N], thanks.” he scoffed, pouring you another glass “Actually, it is him I want you to meet, but there’s something special.” 

You looked up at him, confused “Huh? Special?? Also- he sits beside me in math- i don’t understand why you well the need to throw a whole get together” 

“Eh, just get lonely, that’s all. Anyway, he’s running late again…”

You guys made some small talk as you waited, and luckily, he wasn’t too late

“Hey Reo, sorry I’m late..” he walked through the doors with a lazy wave

Then his eyes met yours, and he stopped “Oh, hey [Y/N]...” Nagi gave a small nod.

“Oh uh- yea! Hey Nagi!” you gave an awkward wave back, “I wasn’t aware you knew my name…” you joked, he was usually asleep in class anyway

He stayed silent and nodded again, still standing

Reo didn’t say anything for a few seconds before interrupting “He learnt it this week, and memorized it.” 

Nagi glared at Reo, 

“That wasn’t in the plan >:(“

“Yea but the plan was u make a move and u ain’t doing sh1t >:P”

Nagi sighed “So- you’re [user], right?”

That caught you offguard, he called you by your online username, “Yea that’s me… Do I know you???”

He hesitated for a second, “... So… I’m Ch0K1…”

It took you a few seconds, but you audibly gasped when you got it

Reo was just there, shaking his head :’3

>Birthday Gifts from him

Nagi really wouldn’t know much about gift giving, so he’d ask Reo. But Reo doesn’t know much about it their, and just told him to give you a fat stack of money

Nagi thought that was kinda boring (+ he couldn’t afford it), so he just wandered the mall, buying whatever he thought you’d like

He ended up with 2 bags of your favourite Sanrio character in plush form. He may’ve overdone it….

“Reo… can you come pick me up? I don’t think I can carry all these…”

“... Nagi- how much did you buy???”

Reo went to go pick him up nonetheless, and he was understandably shocked by how much Nagi had.

“Don’t you think this is a bit overkill…? Just how many plushies do you have???”

Nagi just shrugged, “Dunno. Will they fit in the back?”

“... I’m gonna call another car over-”

With the help of Reo, Nagi got all the gifts over to your house, and into your living room

He didn’t bother setting up any decorations, he just threw all the plushies on the floor, and flopped on them, waiting for you to come home

Reo silently laughed, before getting on his way, just as you got back

“Supriseeee…” Nagi said, doing little motions with his hand with no particular energy 

He pulled you into the pile and clung on to you, “Happy birthday btw :x” 

>Roomate

Super duper lazy, leaves socks around the house all the time

Can’t cook either, will ask you to do it for him

It’s almost like he’s relying on you to live, “Can you make dinner please? Hey can you pick something up for me at the nintendo store? You’re going to the cafe right? Can you get me some lemon tea? Do you have the charger?” etc.

But as you two get closer, it turns into “Can I watch you make dinner? Wanna come with me to buy a game? Let’s go to the cafe today”, and he’ll send you photos of anything he sees outside if it reminds him of you

Nagi :x 

Kinda looks like u

He doesn’t contribute much as a roomie, but he does pay his bills on time (he just tells u where the money is and tells u to get it)

He also has a plushie collection, he didn’t mean to start one, but he did somehow :x 

Will get jealous is you say hi to choki and not him (for those who don’t know, Choki is his pet cactus)

>Kiss an their cheek

He was shocketh, the kiss came out of nowhere

“I-.... :x

He was blushing, he was totally blushing

It took him a few minutes to decide what to say, “I didn’t quite get that, do it again.”

>Watching his game

Nagi was slacking during warmups, looking around to entertain himself

He saw a blur and squinted, “Is that…?”

You waved to him, and he waved back, smiling a bit

“Cmon Nagii, let’s go!” Reo pulled him towards the field

Nagi waited a second before averting his attention, “Hey Reo, give me all the balls, okay? I’ll score them all”

“Sure thing, Nagi!”

Nagi nodded, before turning back to the crowd to look for you again

“... Is this all for [Y/N]-??” Reo asked

“...”

After the game (they won ofc ;) Nagi was absolutely exhausted he’s never tried so hard in a game, he hoped you at least thought he looked cool, or it would’ve been such a waste

He could hardly keep himself up right when he found you after packing up, Nagi slumped on top of you, almost making you fall back

“We won.” he told you,

“Yes, I saw.” You couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his current

“I’m so cool right?”

“Yes, you looked very cool, good job Nagi.” you ruffled his hair, giving him light praise 

“Mmm” he buried his face in the crook of your neck, content with your compliments, “Let’s order some take-out tonight, i think the new Haikyuu movie’s out too, we can watch that.”

Despite having just won a game, Nagi was looking forward to lazing at home with you

>Tell them ur busy

(Nagi POV)

You are u busy rn?

[Y/N] NAGIIIIII Yea sorry i am ;w; Hangin w/a friend rn

You Is it a guy

[Y/N] … noooooo? (read)

He frowned at the screen for like 30 seconds, before rolling on his bed and just: “ :’x “

Would look back at the message every minute, just incase he read it wrong

Nagi still texted you every 30min, even though you told him you’re busy

Would ask so many question about who you were hanging with, “Are they better than me?” “Do you like them more than me?” “Can they carry you in genshin?” 

Wouldn’t stop bothering you, and demanded that you hop on w/him after

I’m sure you wouldn’t leave him hanging, would you?

>First date

Nagi invited you over to his house, was it because he was too lazy to go out? Partially- but he was also really lonely at home(in episode nagi he lives alone 😭).

He cleaned up the house(shoved everything into a closet) and bought some new games for you guys to try out :D Bought some popcorn, jello, and every snack that he knew you liked, even ones he think you would enjoy.

So it may seem that he didn’t put in much effort, but in reality, he was going out every second day to buy things.

Would it be easier if he just made a list? Yea. But that didn’t cross his mind til the 3th trip…

He didn’t mean to over prepare either, but he found himself setting up hours before you were supposed to come over. This resulted in him sitting around doing nothing for a while.

When you finally arrived, Nagi greeted you and helped you inside,

“Hey [Y/N], you’re here”

“Mhm, thanks for having me over, Nagi!”

He nodded as he put your bags down for you, angling his his face away from you so you wouldn’t see the light blush on his face

It just hit Nagi that you were the first girl in his house, or even remotely near him.

He sat down on his bed, and patted the space beside him, inviting you to sit down.

You were pretty close to him, not touching but still. Mentally he was fine, he didn’t feel stressed at all, but his heart was going 20x faster, and he genuinely couldn’t figure out why.

He grabbed you a controller, pulled out the snacks, and threw a blanket over the two of you, “What do you wanna play?” he asked, “I’ve got basically everything”

We’re gonna try a little interactive part here, select one! [Animal Crossing] [Mario Kart] [Genshin(2player)]

Animal Crossing

He showed you his little island, and it was a mess, but he had (somehow) successfully paid off all his debt to Tom Nook

“Yea, I used to play daily… Do you have an acc? Let me friend you”

He let you re-organize his island, showed you the museum, etc.

He made a mental note to get back into the game for you, but he’d never admit that

Mario Kart

Pick One(don’t look, AND ACTUALLY CHOSE ONE)! 

[Option Red] [Option Blue]

Option Red You play really well! Nagi was actually getting really into it, trying to beat you, and failing(much to his silent surprise) It was the first time he really concentrated on a game, and you and him were fighting for first, being well ahead of the other players. You won, and Nagi gave you a little “good job…” he was starting up the next game before giving himself a little smile, oh how lucky he was to find someone with the same hobbies

Option Blue Nagi was intentionally throwing, he chased behind you, staying in second place, and throwing bananas at anyone who came close. Did he lose his streak? Maybe, but seeing you smile(even if you knew what he was doing) was well worth it, even he smiled at the sight. If you knew, then you’d poke fun at him, and have a good laugh :3 “Lol thanks for the carry, Nagi” “...wdym? :x” 

Genshin(or HSR)(for the plot, this’ll be 2 player) Nagi would let you explore, or do your quests and trail behind you, killing any mobs, collecting loot, etc. Even though he wasn’t doing as much as he usually does, he was having much more fun. And he was totally looking more at you than the game. He’d catch himself staring, sigh to himself and go back to the game, just to go back to staring in a matter of time. Helps you finish all your quests, clears your Domains for you, will carry you through the game with no complaint.

He wouldn’t realise it, but playing with you made him really happy, like really really happy. 

“Hey, let’s order some take-out, what do you want?” He lazily leaned on you, pulling out his phone. 

You were still eating some of the snacks he provided, but leaned on his head to see his phone, “Hmm, ngl, think i could go for some [________]” 

“Yea, sounds good.” Nagi’s face flushed slightly at the contact, but he brushed it off

While waiting for the food, you two just lazed around with a show on in the background, talking about whatever came to mind.

Once the food came, you stood up to go get it, and Nagi immediately followed behind you, sticking close.

He watched you open up the box, and ate some himself, approving of your taste in food. 

You were about to take a bite, but then Nagi ate it off the fork instead, staring at you with a “ :x “ like he didn’t just fanum tax you(i’m so skibidi)

The rest of the day was chill, Nagi stayed close to you and turns out, he actually has amazing humor! Does that consist of “ur mom” jokes? Maybe - but don’t act like you don’t pull those either >:)

When it was time for you to leave, Nagi offered to walk you home, which was not in his original plan, but he insisted on it anyway. 

Please give him a hug before you go, he’ll be very happy, and may or may not stay up thinking about it :3 

>Sending Love Letters

Nagi highly doubted that anyone would like him, if anything, he was pretty sure most the girls hated him and were jealous that he got to be around Reo

Reo himself didn’t really care much for them, they came and went, not many stayed for long once they realized he wouldn’t give out money that easily

The only other constant friend Reo had was you. You and Reo used to hand out pretty often, until Nagi came along

Nagi was worried that you hated him, because anytime he entered the room, you’d leave quickly with a red face. Which was very unfortunate for him, since he had started to like you more and more.

For once he understood true jealousy, “why does she like Reo? Why doesn’t she like me? It’s so unfair….”

He refused to come to terms with the fact that he liked you though, thinking that you liked Reo.

Sometimes he’d just follow you around school without you noticing, listening to your voice, the things you said, the way you walked, talked, he was so jealous for every guy you talked to

He was tempted to just walk up to you and pin you down so you couldn’t run, but he figured that would just make you hate him more, and he didn’t want that.

So for now, he would just sit in the shadows, while you and Reo chatted like old pals

That’s why he was slightly shocked, but didn’t care much when he got a Love Letter

He was tempted to just ignore it, since there was no shot you were the sender. But he read it anyway, maybe out of desperation, maybe he was just bored.

“To Nagi Seshiro, I really want to get this off my chest, so I can have an actual reason to run away from you, but I really really like you. I’ve had a crush on you for the longest time, and everytime you were around I felt so embarrassed to I ran 😭 but yea, i just wanted to get this out so i could hide in peace ;w;   “

Nagi genuinely couldn’t believe it, he had to re-read the letter, it was the first time he smiled in like weeks 

In fact, he went to sleep with it under his pillow. He went to sleep SMILING

Oh the things you do to him

He totally forgot to text Reo about the first day, but he did mentioned it the next

Nagi finally felt comfortable to confess as well, but he didn’t want to scare you, so he too would make a letter

>Receiving Love Letters

If it were anyone else, he would’ve just ripped a corner of his notebook out, but for you, he ripped out a full page (It’s the thoughts that matters ;w;)

He wondered if he should use a sparkly gel pen, but decided against it in order to not look like a fool to you.

Nagi tried his best to make his handwriting somewhat legible, you could tell he was pressing hard on each letter

“Hey [Y/N], i rlly like u ♡ will u go out w/me? - Nagi :x “

He actually had a lot of thoughts running through his head, but it was too much a hassle to write it all out. He’ll tell you one day, surely 

A/N: Nagi Catchup! Wasn't sure if i should've integrated his parts into the others, but decided against it and stuck w/my wattpad lines!

[commodorez]

What is the appeal of vintage computers to you? Is it the vintage video games or is it the programs? If so, what kind of programs do you like to run on them?

Fair warning, we're talking about a subject I've been passionate about for most of my life, so this will take a minute. The answer ties into how I discovered the hobby, so we'll start with a few highlights:

I played old video games starting when I was 9 or 10.

I became fascinated with older icons buried within Windows.

Tried to play my first video game (War Eagles) again at age 11, learned about the hardware and software requirements being way different than anything I had available (a Pentium III-era Celeron running Windows ME)

I was given a Commodore 1541 by a family friend at age ~12.

Watched a documentary about the history of computers that filled in the gaps between vague mentions of ENIAC and punch cards, and DOS/Windows machines (age 13).

Read through OLD-COMPUTERS.COM for the entire summer immediately after that.

Got my first Commodore 64 at age 14.

I mostly fell into the hobby because I wanted to play old video games, but ended up not finding a ton of stuff that I really wanted to play. Instead, the process of using the machines, trying the operating system, appreciating the aesthetic, the functional design choices of the user experience became the greater experience. Oh, and fixing them.

Then I started installing operating systems on some DOS machines, or playing with odd peripherals, and customizing hardware to my needs. Oh, and programming! Mostly in BASIC on 8-bit hardware, but tinkering with what each computer could do is just so fascinating to me. I'm in control, and there isn't much of anything between what I write and the hardware carrying it out (especially on pre-Windows machines)! No obfuscation layers, run-times, .dlls, etc. Regardless of the system, BASIC is always a first choice for me. Nova, Ohio Scientific, Commodore, etc. I usually try to see what I can do with the available BASIC dialect and hardware. I also tend to find a game or two to try, especially modern homebrew Commodore games because that community is always creating something new. PC stuff I focus more on pre-made software of the era.

Just to name a few examples from a variety of systems: Tetris, terminal emulators, Command & Conquer titles, screen savers, War Eagles, Continuum, video capture software, Atomic Bomberman, demos, LEGO Island, Bejeweled clones, Commander Keen 1-3, lunar lander, Galaxian, sinewave displays, 2048, Pacman, mandelbrot sets, war dialers, paint -- I could keep going.

Changing gears, I find it funny how often elders outside of the vintage computing community would talk about the era I'm interested in (60s-early 90s). [spoken with Mr. Regular's old man voice]: "Well, computers used to be big as a room! And we used punch cards, and COBOL!" I didn't know what any of that meant, and when pressed for technical detail they couldn't tell you anything substantial. Nobody conveyed any specifics beyond "that's what we used!"

I noticed that gaps remained in how that history was presented to me, even when university-level computer science and history professors were engaged on the subject. I had to go find it on my own. History is written by the victors, yeah? When was the last time a mainstream documentary or period piece focused on someone other than an Apple or Microsoft employee? Well, in this case, you can sidestep all that and see it for yourself if you know where to look.

Experiencing the history first hand to really convey how computers got from point A to B all the way down to Z is enlightening. What's cool is that unlike so many other fields of history, it's near enough in time that we can engage with people who were there, or better yet, made it happen! Why do you think I like going to vintage computer festivals?

We can see the missteps, the dead-ends, the clunkiness, the forgotten gems and lost paradigms, hopefully with context of why it happened. For the things we can't find more information on, when or documentation and perspectives are limited, sometimes we have to resort to digital archeology, and reverse engineering practices to save data, fix machines, and learn how they work. The greater arc of computer history fascinates me, and I intend to learn about it by fixing and using the computers that exemplify it best, and sharing that passion with others who might enjoy it.