#forgive the quality but these are my technological skills

[mars-ia]

[shiningwonderland]

Tokiya Ichinose (Repeat) Memorial

Translator: Koto (Twitter: kotowari16)

Proofreader: Mimi (Twitter: _mimisaurora)

Completely sealing my "love" away.

When I initially made my debut as HAYATO, I could still sing my songs decently despite his character being very far from my usual image.

HAYATO had started to sell well, so I was told it fine to just bring out songs.

I had initially been given two weeks to practice, but that turned into one week, then into three days… and eventually I wasn’t even given one day…

I’m the kind of person who carefully thinks about this singing. Because of my reduced practice time, I couldn’t keep up the quality. It would be in bad taste to call whatever HAYATO’s bringing out “songs”.

“Alright, here’s the demo track of this CD… and here are the lyrics. You have one hour to learn them; we’ll be recording after.”

“What…?”

It had become quite common these days for my manager to tell me while in a taxi on the way.

“In one hour? No way. What about lessons? I won’t be able to sing this properly then.”

I didn’t know if someone could overhear us, so I had no choice but to act like HAYATO even in a place like this.

“The rhythm and pitch can be chachachacha modified mechanically, it’s more than enough if you can hear the lyrics.”

“That… I want to sing more properly. One week, even 3 days would be…”

“It’s alright. The technology has improved recently, so the engineers can do a good job.”

I couldn’t forgive that.

In the short window of one hour that I was given, I could never reach a level that I was satisfied with. No matter how much effort, singing skills or how well I actually sang during the production. 

My chest hurt whenever I fen letter mentioned that the writer loved HAYATO’s songs. 

I want to sing with everything I have.

I want to deliver my true song.

I want to sing, not as HAYATO, but as Ichinose Tokiya.

I want to deliver a song that I myself agree with.

In such a short time, I have no time to put my heart into the song either.

And what’s more, I don’t want to lie to my fans anymore.

For those who say that they like the current HAYATO, how he’s been constructed until this point… and for Haruka as well, this current HAYATO won’t do. Absolutely not.

“Haruka, I will definitely become an idol. I will debut as Ichinose Tokiya. I ask if you can make a song with that same intention.”

I sounded enthusiastic while creating the song for the graduation audition, almost as if I was talking ot myself.

“Okay!”

She’s always following me very obediently. 

Always supporting me, encouraging me with her smile.

Before I knew, I was attracted to that smile, and her musical talent.

I was very aware that I was attracted to her, so I was desperately trying to stop those feelings.

If you’re going to be an idol, you have to discard your love.

That’s the rule here.

I want to debut as Ichinose Tokiya.

And I want for Haruka to become a composer as well.

What should I do with these feelings that grow stronger every day…?

I would be glad if I was the only one who loved and it was otherwise unrequited. As long as I would keep silent about how I felt, this story would be over…

However…

“Haruka…”

I called her name and softly placed the palm of my hand on hers.

“Ah… W-what is it…?”

When our hands touched, she blushed, trembled and made an expression like she was lost.

“No, it’s nothing.”

When our hands separated, she looked a bit disappointed, if only a little…

She had already put her other hand on the back of the hand I touched, and brought it to her chest. She seemed happy.

When someone has no interest the opposite sex, they surely don’t act like this, right?

I think that she might also be attracted to me, just as I am to her.

Haruka becomes more lovely every day, and my heart is burning with love for her.

Although she is incredibly lovely the way she is, as the graduation audition approaches, the chances of us being alone together, are drastically increasing.

The more time we spend together, the more unexpected sides of her I could see. The more I learned, the more I fell in love.

This vicious circle isn’t a bad place to be either.

Instead of forgetting my love, I’m just falling deeper and deeper.

She also understands the no love rule at the academy, so I’m not saying anything careless. Although that’s probably just a matter of time, isn’t it?

It wouldn’t be weird for either of us to blurt out that they love the other like this.

That’s how much we were attracted to each other.

My love or my dream…

I had to make that choice.

Let’s say that I end up choosing love.

We will be expelled in that case.

And that moment, I will lose my dream.

I don’t know any other life that that of an idol, so I’ll probably end up continuing playing HAYATO.

As long as I continue with HAYATO, I can’t officially go out with her either. I’m an idol, so I can’t have a girlfriend.

Even if I would choose love now, there’s no guarantee either that I’ll always be able to be with her. If I give up on love and choose my dream, however, there’s a high probability of both us becoming professionals.

I might even be able to sing her song.

And most importantly, it meant she wouldn’t lose her dream.

I can still turn back now. Let’s stop looking at her as someone of the opposite sex.

That’s right, isn’t it?

The final night…

After the dance party, I will throw this love away once and for all.

Otherwise, we cannot be together.

Let’s trick myself into thinking that I got turned down.

It should be fine if I just continued to act like my feelings had changed.

It wouldn’t matter this time if that’s self-suggested.

I have to eliminate the obstacles to my dream.

But if…

If she would tell me that she loved me, I might not be able to hold back anymore.

There… would be no option but to cancel our partnership and ask her to give up on this dream.

Throwing my love away when we’re constantly next to each other, knowing how we both feel, is impossible.

I don’t have that kind of strength yet.

So, I’m begging you, please don’t tell me that you love me…

At least I want to continue being partners with you.

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Word count: 3900+

Rating: explicit, 18+ only

Outline: It’s Father’s Day again, and you and Whiskey are trying to revive your sex life. Based on the fic “An Unexpected Occasion” with permission from @quica-quica-quica Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x “You” (cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: oral sex/M receiving; oral sex/F receiving; unprotected P/V sex in the context of established relationship; use of clitoral vibrator; medium-level bondage/wrists and ankles/F receiving; medium-level impact play (spanking/hands/leather flogger) F receiving; light throat play/hands on neck/F receiving; a smidge of lactation kink; one instance of Jack calling himself “Daddy”; Jack running his FILTHY mouth; mentions of pink champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries

---

Things hadn’t been exactly dead in the bedroom since your daughter was born, just a little slow and awkward. Jack had taken to fatherhood like a champ, cuddling and cradling the baby in his strong hands when she made her appearance just before midnight on New Year’s Eve. You had nothing to complain about, outside of the usual hormonal shifts and new nursing mom adjustments. Your pregnancy had been textbook-healthy, and other than refusing to sleep through the night, your 6-month-old baby was sweet and easy. Her gray irises and peach-fuzz hair had darkened since birth, and now she was a copy of her daddy, all dark eyes and dimples. The only thing you missed from your “before” life was the higher frequency of good-quality sex with Jack.

You knew from your own work with new moms that it sometimes took months for new parents to get back into the swing of things, but it had still been a rude surprise to find that you and Jack were so tired and busy with parenting that it sometimes took a whole week or more for you to find a mutually-agreeable time to get busy. It sucked, and you missed him.

Just like last year, Jack was out on assignment the week leading up to Father's Day. Valentine's Day this year had been a total bust. Both of you were so wiped out that you had spent the evening bickering and then passed out on the couch in front of an action movie at 8:40 p.m. before waking up at midnight for a quick fumble. Your birthday in April had been similar. You had taken the baby to Grandma's for the evening, and instead of having a romantic dinner out, you had gotten into a minor fender-bender and spent the evening with a heating pad on your neck while Jack argued with your auto insurance company's 24-hour hotline.

So you decided that since it was Father's Day and you were feeling a smidge less tired, and a pinch more sexy, you would use Jack's week away to prepare for a mind-blowing weekend. You bought new bed sheets, got your hair and nails done, and ordered some items online that you hoped would spark his interest again and lead to something playful and fun: lengths of soft, specialized bondage rope, a leather flogger, and a new vibrator, shaped like a tongue with a little divot on one side to cup your clit.

A nurse at work had turned you on to the device, claiming that the soft silicone and specialized shape had given her better climaxes than she’d ever experienced with 30 years of bullet vibes. At least that was one good thing about being in the business of having babies; nobody was shy about sex or the human body. You had plugged it in to charge and took the time to read through all of the instructions, holding it against your hand to feel the different levels of vibrations. You wanted to save the test run for Jack’s return; you were eager to see what he thought of it.

You also chose some lingerie that seemed fairly forgiving for your post-baby body: a black babydoll nightgown with hot pink lace, and a sheer robe and slippers to match. As a labor & delivery nurse you knew better than anyone what pregnancy did to women's bodies, but it was still a little upsetting to see the odd bumps and rumples on your torso that didn’t seem to want to shift. You figured (hoped anyway) that when Jack saw the effort you were going to, he wouldn’t care what “flaws” were hiding underneath the gauze and lace. An hour before Jack was due home, you showered and dressed in your new lingerie. A box of chocolate-covered strawberries and a bottle of pink champagne were chilling in the fridge. Now you just had to wait.

Jack arrived home right on time, and you sprang up from the couch to greet him at the front door. He lumbered inside with a groan and dropped his overnight bag in the foyer. You didn’t give him a chance to remove his hat before you were rushing to embrace him. “Jack! Baby, I'm so glad you’re home.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so glad to see you. Where’s the baby?”

You let go of him and stepped back so that he could take in your new outfit. You spun once to give Jack the full view, and then stepped up close to give him a kiss.

“She’s at Grandma’s for the weekend,” you murmured against his lips. “I have champagne in the fridge, and some surprises for you for Father’s Day.”

Jack chuckled and groaned at the same time. “Oh, honeysuckle. That sounds divine, and you look amazing.” He kissed you and slid one hand down to grab your ass. “Is this my surprise?”

You laughed. “Part of it! Come with me, cowboy.”

You led him to the bedroom and made him sit down on the bed. He toed his boots off and started unbuttoning his shirt. You knelt behind him on the bed and rubbed his shoulders as he undressed. “I’m so glad to see you Jack. Are you in the mood to mess around?”

He stood up and turned to you as he removed his pants. “You tell me, sugar.” He slid his tight jeans off and you saw his erection straining against his briefs. He chuckled at you as he stood in his undershirt and hat.

“Oh yeah,” you waggled your eyebrows at him. “I’m so glad you’re home, Jack. We have a lot to catch up on.”

He threw his hat on the dresser and leaned over you to plant kisses to your cheeks and neck and collarbone. You leaned back and he lay on top of you, murmuring against your neck and hair as he nuzzled you. “What’s new, pussycat?”

“Oh, well…” you hummed contentedly. “I did some shopping, got my nails done, bought this new nightie…”

Jack moved down to nuzzle your cleavage. “I see. And what’s underneath? Is that for me, too?”

“Oh, of course Jack. And I got some new toys that I hope you’ll enjoy playing with, too.”

“Is that so?” Jack pulled back and smiled at you. “Can I see?”

You grinned and nodded. “Let me up.”

Jack rolled away from you and you practically bounced over to the closet to retrieve the large gift bag you had put together. He sat up on the edge of the bed and took the bag from you with a raised eyebrow. “Heavy,” he commented.

He reached in and pulled out the leather flogger first, a wicked smile spreading across his face. “Oh, honey, you know just what I like.” He ran his fingers through the leather falls and then slapped it once, lightly against the bedspread. “Well that’s going to be fun.”

You threw your head back and laughed. “Keep going. There’s more in there.”

Jack reached into the bag and pulled out three bundles of soft bondage rope in pearl gray, white, and black. A soft “Ohhh, I see,” fell from his lips. “You need to test my rope skills, keep me fresh? Is that it?”

“Well it never hurts to practice.” You winked at him. “Keep going, there’s one more thing in there.” You clasped your hands together and waited for Jack to set the rope down on the bed. His hand disappeared into the bag one last time and he pulled out a small white satin drawstring bag; the storage bag that the company had included with your new “device.”

Jack frowned as he opened the bag and pulled out the black vibrator. “What’s this?” He cocked an eyebrow at you.

“A new vibrator. Very advanced technology, and it’s rechargeable and waterproof! Seven different vibration patterns and each one has five different levels.” Jack let out a long, low whistle at that.

You wiggled your eyebrows at him again. “You wanna play, cowboy?”

“Oh, honeybee. I thought you’d never ask.” Jack reached an arm out to circle around your waist and pull you closer. You put your hands on his broad shoulders and leaned down to kiss him as his hands cupped your ass.

The two of you melted together and time slowed down. You had missed this, missed him; missed the easy intimacy that you had shared so much of before the baby came. He felt familiar and good and strong under your lips and hands, and you felt like you had all the time in the world to reintroduce yourselves to each other.

Kisses turned into groping, and you stopped Jack only once to remove your robe and heeled slippers. When you stood before him in just the nightgown and the matching G-string, Jack ran his eyes and his hands appreciatively over your body. You suddenly felt silly that you had ever imagined that Jack would care about any postpartum changes. This was a man who was covered in scars and dings of his own from years of a physical job, he wouldn’t care that you were softer in some places and more wrinkly in others. He just wanted to love you.

You leaned over Jack to reach for the white bundle of rope, and offered it to him as you kneeled down between his legs. You tugged at the waistband of his underwear and he lifted his hips to help you get them off. His cock sprang free and you moaned at the sight of it, taking it into your hands and mouth to lavish attention on him. Jack unwound the length of rope as you kissed and caressed him, then he reached down to pull your wrists up above your head. You pulled off and looked up at him with a smile as he expertly wrapped your wrists, palms pressed together in a prayer position.

He looked down at you with a gentle smirk. “I didn’t say you could stop, honey.”

You hummed out a laugh and bent your head down between your elbows, going back to work with your mouth. Jack leaned back slightly to give himself room to finish wrapping your wrists. When he was done he gave it a tug. “Too tight?”

You pulled off long enough to say, “Just right, baby,” before diving back down to try to swallow him all the way to the back of your throat. Jack groaned softly as he put his large hand across the back of your neck. The broadness of his fingers and the warmth against your skin made you shiver. You hummed out a little noise of pleasure and Jack suddenly hissed and moved his hand under your chin to lift you up off of him.

“You keep going like that, honey, and I won’t make it to the good stuff.”

You smiled up at him, lips slick with saliva. “Well, where do you want me, cowboy?”

He put a strong hand under each elbow and helped you stand. “Why don’tcha lie down and I’ll return the favor for a while?”

You nodded and switched places with Jack, lying back on the bedspread and letting him open your legs. He ran one warm hand up your calf and opened your knee, then repeated the movement on the other side. He kneeled on the soft rug next to the bed and leaned his head close to your crotch, flipping the hem of your nightie up and back. He stroked your lace-covered mound with his fingers.

“Oh, baby, you look gorgeous. So pretty for me.” He placed his open mouth on your panties right over your clit, pressing down to make a seal with his lips before he breathed out gently. The sudden warmth of it made you shiver, and you moaned out his name. Goddamn him; he always knew how to ramp things up to 100 when you least expected it.

Jack hooked your G-string to the side and slid two thick fingers into you, crooking them just right to brush against the spongy spot behind your pubic bone. You arched your back and moaned again. “Jack! Jesus, warn a girl first.”

“Oh but that wouldn’t be any fun, honeysuckle.” His voice was low, all honey and velvet. “You got me all these nice surprises. I thought I’d return the favor.”

He crooked his fingers up again and you squealed as your hips bucked. Jack’s free hand came down on the inside of your thigh with a sharp slap, just above the knee. He smoothed the impact with a warm stroke before running his fingers higher to pinch the inside of your thigh, right where you were most ticklish. You groaned out a laugh as the pinch shot sparks of pleasure and gentle pain to your core.

“You better hold still, girl, or I’ll give you something to moan about.” His words made a rush of wetness seep out between your labia. He pinched you again, gentler than before, and followed it with a kiss to the tender spot. His mustache tickled you there, and you gasped out a giggle.

“Oh, yes sir! I’ll be a good girl.”

“Good, that’s what I like to hear. Now stay still while I concentrate.” He removed his fingers and hooked the elastic waistband of your G-string, pulling it down and off before diving back in with his lips and tongue and fingers, working you open. You felt liquid drip down between your crack as he devoured you, his digits pulling more wetness out of your core as his tongue and lips pushed you open and over the edge. You gasped as you came, trying your best to stay still as you clenched around Jack’s thick fingers. The silken ropes around your wrists strained but held tight. He really was good with a rope.

Jack kissed and petted you softly as you came down, murmuring sweet words into your soft folds. “That’s my good girl, so wet for me... I love this pretty pussy… you have no idea… so good for me… you pretty girl, gorgeous girl...” He placed one last, loud, wet kiss on your mound and then stood up. You smiled up at him as he leaned over you, bracing himself on his fists as he lowered his mouth to yours. Jack was all things at once; soft and warm lips under a cold and damp mustache, his own masculine cologne mixing with your scent on his mouth. The combination and the echoes of your climax made you lightheaded.

Jack stood up and wiped his face off with an open palm. “You ready to play, honeysuckle?” He winked.

You nodded and were surprised at how clear your voice sounded, given how fuzzy your head felt. “Yes, please.”

He grinned at you and gripped your upper arm with a firm hand, helping you sit up and scoot back to recline against the pillows. He grabbed the length of black rope and secured your left ankle to the corner of the bed frame, then did the same with the pearl gray rope on your right ankle. Jack’s movements were swift and gentle, and when he was done you gave your legs an experimental tug. You were spread open and secured in place; you weren’t going anywhere.

“Oh, Jack. Have I been a bad girl?” Your voice was high and playful. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Jack smirked at you as he picked up the black vibrator and turned it on. “It’s not what you did, honeybee. It’s what you’re gonna do.”

His words pulled a gasp from your throat and sent a new rush of slick to your pussy. You moaned a low, needy sound as he kneeled on the bed between your legs and brought the vibrator gently to your clit. You bucked and moaned, feeling the silken bands of rope tug against your ankles. Jack put one large palm on your thigh to hold you still. He nestled the flat tip of the vibrator into the folds surrounding your clit and positioned it so that the shallow divot cupped the sensitive bud.

You were suddenly rocketed into another plane of consciousness as a surprise orgasm wracked your body. Chills crept up the backs of your thighs and down over your nipples. The keening, high-pitched wail that reached your ears surprised you; you hadn’t even realized that you had cried out.

Jack petted your thigh softly as he pulled the vibrator away, keeping it pressed feather-light to your outer labia. “That’s my girl. Good girl.”

You came back to yourself slowly, floating back into the room as you opened your eyes. Jack smiled at you with satisfaction that verged on smugness, like he had just solved a puzzle. He turned off the vibrator and tossed it gently on the bed. “You alright, honey? Did that do something for you?”

“Jesus Christ, Jack. Fuck… oh my god… oh, fuck me…”

Jack smirked at you, “That good, huh?”

“I’ve never come like that in my life. Jesus Christ…”

He crawled up over you, pulling your bound wrists above your head as he kissed you. You felt your breathing return to normal as he explored and probed your mouth with his eager tongue. One strong hand held your jaw in place as the other squeezed and groped your breast. You felt something damp and warm trickle out of your nipple.

“Oh, Jack. I’m leaking a little.” You laughed. “Sorry, it’s been a couple of hours since I pumped for her.”

Jack let go of your chin and worked his mouth down to your cleavage. He opened the split cups of your nightgown and cupped one breast while he brought his mouth to the other, talking and murmuring to you between sucks and licks. “You know I don’t mind, sugar… so sweet for me… you like it when Daddy tastes your honey-sweet milk?”

You guffawed. “Don’t call yourself that, please. It’s weird now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, honeysuckle. Should I stop?” He looked up at you and winked. “You can call me ‘sir’ again if that feels good.” He worked his way over to the other breast and suckled some more. You felt a spurt of milk leak out as he gently rolled your nipple between his front teeth.

“Hell,” he kept going, laving the stiff bud with the flat of his tongue, “... you can call me all sorts of mean names if you just let me keep tasting you like this.”

You threw your head back and moaned. Jack let go of your nipples and positioned himself at your entrance, lining up and diving in with one swift movement. You both moaned in unison and gasped as he pumped into you. He felt so good, so stiff and heavy inside of you as he rocked you gently with his hips. The ankle restraints tugged gently at your feet, reminding you of the delicious, vulnerable position you were in.

“Jesus, honeybee… you feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock.” Jack grunted as he thrust into you. “You gonna be my good girl? Take my whole load?”

“Yes, Jack! Yes… I’ll be your good girl.”

He thrust up into you harder, pistoning his hips and shaking the whole bed. He pumped a few more times like that and then lifted himself off. “Turn over for me, sugar. Let me spank you with that new whip.”

You nodded enthusiastically. Jack reached down and released each ankle, and then helped you flip over onto your knees. You braced yourself on your elbows with your wrists still bound, and the sight of the bright white ropes against your skin sent a delicious shudder down your nerves, stiffening your nipples and raising goosebumps on your shoulders.

Jack kneeled behind you and spanked your ass cheek experimentally with an open palm, gauging your reaction. You let out a soft, “Oh…” at the first several slaps. He increased the pressure, sending your hips canting forward a few inches as you moaned.

“Oh, Jaaack…” you breathed out the words. “Oh, you’re so good to me.”

Jack picked up the flogger and brought it down on the other cheek. His first whips were soft, barely harder than a tickle. He was waiting for you to guide him. “Harder,” you urged. He smoothed your buttocks with his warm hand and then brought the leather strings down with a crack that sounded sharper than it was. You egged him on, “Harder, I said. Make it count!”

Jack gave you one solid crack and you cried out. His voice was gruff and sandpapery. “Like that, sugar? You like it when I spank you?”

“Yes, Jack. More… please.” You rocked your hips back and lowered your shoulders to raise your butt higher. “Give it to me. Please, sir.”

Jack alternated open-palm slaps against your ass with strikes of the short whip, lashing you until your cries reached a squeaky high pitch. He stopped and smoothed his warm palms over your skin, then leaned down and lavished open-mouthed kisses on the area.

“You nice and wet now, honey? You ready for me again?” He pressed the head of his cock to your slick entrance and paused.

“Yes Jack, yes please. Get inside of me.”

Jack thrust inside of you, hard, and it sent your head reeling. He skated one big, warm, flat palm over your sweetly abused ass, murmuring praises at you as he pounded steadily into you. You raised yourself back up on your elbows for stability.

“You’re my fucking dream girl, you sweet thing. Can’t believe I got so fucking lucky with you…” He gripped your hips with both hands as he pounded into you, then he leaned over to growl into your ear as he wrapped one large hand around the front of your throat.

“You like that, you fucking dirty girl? You filthy little angel? You’re such a sweet girl, letting me fuck you like this.”

You leaned forward just an inch, increasing the pressure on your throat as he continued to grunt into your ear. The sensation of his warm breath on your ear combined with the delicious feeling of his thick fingers around your neck, and you felt yourself clench around his cock.

Jack’s speech started faltering, interspersed with thrusts and groans. You knew he was getting close. “You-” his breath hitched. “Fucking... fucking pretty girl. Fucking-” He groaned again. “...goddamn gorgeous girl… Fuck!”

His hand tightened just a little around your throat and you felt your pussy clench again, sending him over the edge. He let go of your neck and bent over your back, resting his sweaty forehead between your shoulder blades as he rocked into you. You felt him, hot and sticky against your skin as he released into you.

You collapsed onto the bed and he lay on top of you. Your breathing slowed together as you both came back to Earth.

---

“Was that a good welcome home?” You leaned over to Jack’s side of the bed and held a chocolate-covered strawberry up to his lips. He took a bite and moaned. You giggled contentedly and tapped the rim of your champagne flute to his. He nodded at you and swallowed, washing the bite down with a sip of pink champagne.

“Yes, sugar, thank you. That was amazing.” He wrapped his free arm around your shoulders and pulled you close. “I know it’s been a rough year, but I feel like we’re getting back on track in the bedroom. I’ve missed you like this.”

You looked up at him and smiled. “I missed you, too, Jack. Happy Father’s Day.”

--- Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

"All fics" roll call: @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul

@kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @quica-quica-quica @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001

[jeongyunhoed]

Past-Present-Future Black Dahlia

Two major tragedies bring Lee Mirae closer to the edge as she goes through the stages of grief in a more violent manner that would affect not only her relationships with her boyfriend Jeong Yunho and her half-brother Choi San, but also has her becoming closer with the immortal mutant Kang Yeosang. Fueled by rage, grief, and pain, along with a very rude awakening that has Mirae spiraling out of control and questioning everything she holds dear.

Group: ATEEZ Member: Yunho Pairing: Jeong Yunho / OC Genre: Action, adventure, angst, fantasy

Watch Out! : Violence, blood, death, grief and loss, major character deaths, use of weapons, some jealousy (but no cheating ofc), implied smut (not sure if there is any but i’m putting it out there nonetheless), mental illness (probably?), gambling and alcohol

Anything else? : Mentions of other idols of course as well as other characters. SuperM, Dean, Chanyeol, Zelo, soloist Park Jihoon to name a few.

Author’s Note: So... I didn’t expect this would happen for some reason? But it’s interesting how things unfold when you just wing it. Anyway, more reveals ahead a.k.a Yeosang reveals what more he can do and not just suck the life out of people/mutants.

Masterlist

Chapter 6

Loud yelps of pain echoed what looked like a ballroom found within the abandoned school that Ten created. Jongin was seated on top of an operating table, his injured leg that had a gaping wound was being tended to by another male, wearing a suit. Dr. Lucas Wong, another telepath that also had extensive medical knowledge. “She tore through your muscle and the tendons, this might take a while to repair, the tissue damage is extreme and even if it did, there will be some discrepancy in the weight distribution when you walk,,” Lucas muttered as he wiped the rest of the antiseptic over the wound. 

“Yeah, she did,” Jongin bit his lip to stifle the groans leaving his mouth in pain. “Even threatened to wipe out my entire family while she did it. She’s got quite a grip.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t do the same to you, hyung,” Lucas glanced at Baekhyun, who had a brace on his neck. 

“Yeah well, I thought she needed to know who was making her suffer. I don’t regret it one bit of course,” Baekhyun frowned, sitting back against the red chintz chair. 

“And now you’ve turned her loose against us when we should be convincing her to join our cause,” Mark said. “You chose to pursue your vendetta over the greater goal that we plan to achieve, and from the looks of this, it seems like Ino has already let it slip that you and Jongin tampered with their Danger Room. We aren’t the enemy, the non-mutants are.” 

Baekhyun fell silent. “To be fair, it was fun helping them out in their plans, it gave me something to do,” Taeyong spoke, his feet up on the table that had Lucas’s medical journals, making the doctor swat his feet away while he dressed the teleporter’s wounds. “I think she also turned Yeosang away from the venture though.” 

“See?” Mark sighed in frustration. “We need her and Yeosang. Yeosang wields significant influence, granted that he practically owns the entirety of Seoul. With Mirae, it’s going to give the venture the added muscle.” 

“You mean she’ll be our enforcer,” Jongin chimed in. 

“In a way. If people have a problem, we can convince her to take care of it. She’s got a lot of skills, skills that must be utilized. She’s let herself go ever since she got rid of the Utopian cult,” Mark explained. 

A portal soon appeared in the middle of the room and Ten stepped out of it. “She’s here. And she’s pissed, and at the same time sad,” He said. He glanced at Baekhyun. “You should’ve kept the ruse going, hothead.” 

“She blew up my house though,” Taeyong pointed out. 

“You’ve got the money, you can build a new one,” Lucas muttered, dressing Jongin’s wound. “Taemin’s still not done from his meetings, is he?” 

“Nope. But I already told him what happened. He should be here in an hour? Two hours tops,” Taeyong replied. “He’s not going to be happy.” 

“Damn right I’m not.” 

Taemin had appeared by the door, looking evidently pissed off. He slammed his jacket down on the nearby desk along with his briefcase. “Didn’t even give me some time to get my stuff before she blew the place up.” 

Lee Taemin was also a telepath like Mark and Taeyong, but his main powers were mostly being able to mimic or augment a mutant’s powers. If Taemin were near an omega-level mutant, he could only mimic but not surpass their abilities completely. Unlike his younger brother Taeyong, who could turn into a diamond form to shield his mind from other telepaths, Taemin’s was naturally present, and he often used it to hide from other psychics. If there were even other psychics apart from them. 

Ten put a finger to his lips. “Shhh. I placed her in one of the rooms of this whole...estate. If I were to go to her now, she would hear everything you are all saying. We wouldn’t want a repeat of what happened in the mansion now would we?” 

“So what’s our next move?” Taemin asked. 

“We call on Ino, ask him regarding what to do about Mirae, and then maybe approach a few willing politicians. I heard not everyone remained arrested after that encounter with Chun Doohwan’s adviser,” Mark explained. “Some are desperate to make a comeback in the political scene. Even after they were exposed.” 

“How are you framing that? I’m not so sure people in this country are keen to forget something like what they did,” Taemin questioned. “Actually, people in this country don’t forget nor do they forgive unless they’re like us.” 

“You could say the same with everyone everywhere, it’s just that we feel it more here,” Taeyong argued. “Then again, it’s not like they know who we are.” 

“Exactly. We should take advantage of the flaws of this society. We’re the superior race, and they will know about their inferiority soon enough,” Mark said. 

It was making Jongin think. “Since that could take some time, I wonder what we plan on doing with Mirae? Are we just keeping her here? Clueless? You forget, you can’t read her mind.” 

“You don’t need to read a mind like hers to know what to do with her, silly,” Ten smirked. “All I can say is that all of you better watch your backs with her. A person who is grieving over the loss of the people closest to her will not think straight, but a person like her who is grieving over losing three people she holds dear? I wouldn’t be surprised if she does turn around and wipe out your entire lineage. She almost did that with you, didn’t she?” He turned to Jongin. 

“How can she do that while she’s over here?” Jongin raised a brow, until he figured out what Ten really meant. “...You wouldn’t.” 

“She’s got every reason to hate each and every one of us now that she knows you were all behind the deaths of her friends. With the shield in her mind, no telepath can control her,” Ten pointed out. “Of course, she doesn’t know my affiliation with the rest of you so she may leave me out of this.” 

“Bring it on, then,” Baekhyun said. 

“Really? You’d really take that risk? I could tell her where your families and loved ones are right now and you can watch them go bye-bye at her hands,” Ten looked satisfied seeing the older male get uncomfortable. 

“I’m already dead to my family, what makes you think I still care?” 

“Enough, Chittaphon,” Taemin rolled his eyes. “We get it. The only one she can’t kill in here is Mark, but even his own life isn’t certain. We need to control her somehow. We’re not the enemy. The non-mutants are.”

“There is a way,” Baekhyun raised a brow. “Choi San and Jeong Yunho. I’ve been thinking of making my next move towards them. Make Mirae really alone.” 

~ 

“How much longer do we have until we get there? How do we even get there?” San looked over at Junhong. They were still driving down the road that seemed to lead to the city proper with Yeosang’s help. There was a kind of uncertain quality about the city, as if it was part of a certain time yet had modern technology. The people living in the city were wearing different variations of the hanbok, styled in either coordinates or as dresses and suits. 

“It won’t be long,” Yeosang replied from his seat, making all of them look out the windows. “One kilometer more and we’ll be able to find her, or them, or both.” 

“We don’t have much time, unless Yunho can teleport us even at this time, by the time we get to her, she’ll have probably made up her mind,” San said. 

“When I was at those ruins, what I saw gave me chills,” Wooyoung said quietly. “It’s as if all I could feel from that place was rage and sadness. Junhong, both Hyuk and Chanyeol meant so much to her, didn’t they?” 

“Oh yeah they do. If they survived the explosion, you can imagine we’d get things done faster,” Junhong glanced over at them. 

Yeosang sighed. “Oh well, here goes nothing,” He closed his eyes and muttered a few words, making others look over at him. 

A flock of seagulls was flying out of the way of the van, making all of them whip around to look out the window. Their surroundings changed. They were no longer in the city proper, but they were at a dreary-looking street and at the end of the street was the gates of the school. “...Yunho?” Hongjoong glanced at the taller. 

“It’s not me,” Yunho looked just as surprised. 

Yeosang shook his head. “Well that spell was rusty,” He muttered. 

“Spell? What do you mean by spell?...You can do magic?” Mingi stared at him. 

“It’s a gift I try not to use very often. It takes the fun out of everything,” Yeosang casually replied. “I must confess I fear I might be losing my touch with it.” 

San grabbed him by the collar. “You mean to say you could’ve brought us there without having to travel?!” He couldn’t help but yell. 

“In my defense I didn’t do that when I came to the rest of you,” Yeosang yanked his hand off his collar and straightened himself up. 

“You better figure out which side you’re on because it seems to me that you’re buying them some time,” Hongjoong shot at him. 

“Give me a reason not to kill you right now,” Yunho suddenly looked over at him. “You could’ve saved us the time.” 

“Whenever I use magic, I will need to feed. It uses up my energy and turns me into a ghostly hag,” Yeosang held up his hand, his skin becoming translucent, revealing the veins that were becoming more and more visible.

“You are an old hag,” San pointed out. 

“Regardless, the more I use, the hungrier I will get. I don’t think any of you would be willing to give your lives to me, and thus control is needed. It’s one of the downsides of my abilities. That and, I tend to absorb the memories of those I kill,” Yeosang said quietly. 

“In that case, you’ve now got a reason to feed,” Hongjoong said as Junhong pulled the brakes. 

“All of you have your weapons, I can stay behind and wait. There are communicators with you, so you should be able to talk to me and each other in case you split up,” Junhong turned to them. “Good luck. Get Mirae back.” 

“We will,” San nodded and the rest of them got down.

The eight of them faced the massive gates of the estate. “Do we climb over or do we break in?” Seonghwa asked, an idea immediately coming to mind. His eyes and fingertips glowed green, the chains locking the gate coming apart, opening the gate in front of them. 

“I’m here to remind you that we’ll be dealing with a few telepaths and teleporters. Be careful,” Yeosang said as they walked inside, a cold gust of wind hitting them. “As much as it pains me to say it, San is our best bet to get to Mirae. I’m sure they already know of his relation to my dear, as much as they already know who Yunho is in her life.” 

“So we need to watch Yunho and San, is that it?” Hongjoong deduced. 

“Precisely,” Yeosang replied, only to duck out of the way when he felt something strike him. It was an axe, Mingi’s axe, and the taller male himself was attempting to strike him. 

“Mingi!” San tried to stop him, but he wasn’t answering and instead tried to strike towards everyone else, making them take out their weapons. Mingi seemed to be in a trance.

“Mingi!” Hongjoong sped around the taller male. “He’s- What’s happened to him?!” He dodged a shuriken that was thrown his way. Wooyoung and San had joined in the fray. 

Yunho dodged his strikes with an axe, only to run out of the way when he saw Jongho charge towards him. “Oh no, Jongho!” He yelled, avoiding the spikes that were protruding from his arms and legs. Jongho was also in a trance. 

Yeosang took out the concealed sword from his walking stick and knocked Jongho out of the way. “They seem to be under a spell- They know we’re here,” He said, realizing the situation. “One of them’s controlling Mingi and Jongho, or should I say two- Mark!” 

A portal opened from one side of the grounds and out stepped Mark himself, followed by Lucas. “I thought as much, Yeosang!” The immortal said. 

“Can’t get your hands dirty?” Yeosang cast a spell only for it to hit Lucas instead as he saw Taemin step out from the same portal and Ten. 

“Why would I need to?” Mark scoffed. 

“We’re not the enemy,” Taemin said, his eyes and fingertips glowing the same green glow as Seonghwa who was already trying to redirect the shurikens and axes that Mingi was throwing while also dodging Jongho’s kicks and punches. He disarmed their weapons, throwing them to the side. 

“Where is Mirae?” San asked. 

“She’s safe, somewhere in there. But I’m sorry to say that you can’t get to her,” Ten replied. “We need her.” 

“And we need her,” Yunho stared at them. “We’re not joining you and your Project Apocalypse and neither should Mirae.” 

“Ah, Yeosang told you. I guessed as much, he’s turning into a literal vampire before our eyes too,” Mark gestured to the immortal, whose skin was becoming even more translucent, his eyes turning icy blue in color. “You might as well show them how you actually look after all of that magic, you know.” 

“Still sore about Julia the Elder choosing me over you after all,” He said. 

“We’re not the enemy as you all seem to believe. Mutants are the inheritors of this earth, we’re all on the same side here,” Lucas reasoned. 

“Oh really? Then why is Mirae being kept?” Hongjoong questioned. “You’ve got her, we want her.” 

“You’ll have to get through us first, then,” Mark said. 

“No problem,” Hongjoong said, before speeding past Lucas and Taemin, knocking them off their feet. 

Mark took out a swiss army knife from his pocket and shook his head. “Care to duel, Yeosang? To the death as it seems,” He said. 

“I’d want to stick around more, no thanks,” Yeosang sent a hex towards him, sending him to the end of the field, almost knocking into the pillar. Wooyoung transformed into his shadow form, slithering across the ground and capturing Ten, nearly getting sucked into the portal he was trying to create. 

Mingi took out his lighter, sending blasts of flames towards  Mark who reappeared, making him fall over, covering his face in pain. “Chanyeol taught me that,” He grinned. 

~ 

Mirae looked out the window from the room Ten placed her in. She was getting restless. She wanted to know where Baekhyun and Jongin were, and possibly kill them when she found them. The room she was kept in gave off the impression that it was once among the opulently decorated rooms in the school, perhaps a room of a teacher or school head. 

“Mirae.” 

She turned around upon hearing the familiar voice. It was Ino. “So now you’re here.” 

“I am, and I don’t blame you for what you did to me-” 

Her eyes and fingertips glowed and she reached into her pocket for her deck of cards. “What makes you think I’m sorry for what I did to you? You deserved it as much,” She hissed. 

“Baekhyun, Jongin, their entire group has a cause worth fighting for.” 

“And Hyuk and Chanyeol are collateral damage, is that it?” Mirae flung a charged card towards the older male, only for it to explode through him. “Baekhyun killed them, and he killed Jihoon too. And you let it happen.” 

“Their deaths were a price to pay!” Ino tried to reason, dodging all the cards being thrown at him. 

“They never deserved that! And you know it!” Mirae yelled and a shockwave of energy suddenly reverberated around the room, causing cracks in the windows and walls. Ino saw his face had traces of burns caused by the shockwave. “They never deserved to die!” She yelled again, sending another shockwave that made the furniture burn and disintegrate and Ino felt more burns on his skin. 

“You’re becoming stronger, Mirae,” Ino realized as the burns on him were healing. “Remember what Junhong said to you-” 

More shockwaves of energy reverberated around the room, the ceiling and the walls already on the verge of collapsing. “All this time I was living with guilt thinking that I was responsible for it, when it’s you- You let everything happen!” She shouted, another shockwave making everything collapse and fly outwards. 

“It was the price to pay for Project Apocalypse, Mirae!” Ino tried to reason again, even if he knew it was inevitably futile. “There are people willing to die for causes greater than themselves. It’s time mutants had considerable influence in the world, we have a right to live in this world just as much as everyone else does. Out from the shadows, no longer hiding.” 

“What makes you think I was hiding? What makes you think Hyuk and Chanyeol were hiding? Jihoon wasn’t even a mutant yet he was killed!” Mirae threw another card at him followed by another, the second card ricocheting off the column as it exploded, knocking it over. 

Ino looked up and everything that was about to crumble down froze in mid-air. Baekhyun and a limping Jongin appeared, followed by Taeyong. Baekhyun released a beam of light towards her face, making her fall over, covering her eyes. Taeyong transformed into his diamond form and charged towards her, Mirae knocking him over before he could strike. 

“You don’t even bother to see that your friends are out there right now,” Baekhyun tried to blast another beam of light towards her. “San and Yunho, did you really care for them?” He taunted, only to gape when the beam of light hit the staff she had extended, the energy coming from her being redirected towards him and sending him flying towards the other side, Jongin teleporting in time to catch him. 

The whole school burned down into ashes and shockwaves reverberated all throughout the grounds, making everyone in the midst of their fights fall over on the ground from the impact. Taeyong, Jongin and Baekhyun appeared close to the rubble as Mirae emerged from the ashes. Ino had also reappeared, the burns on his hands and face healing. 

Yunho got up upon seeing Mirae and he ran up to her. “Mirae! Mirae!” He called out, only to get pushed inside a portal. 

“Yunho?” The glow in her eyes faded. “Yunho!” She called out, running towards the portal only for it to close, making her stumble and fall over. Mirae looked over, her eyes scanning the ground for San and getting back on her feet. “San!” She called out. 

“Mirae!” San got back up on his feet only to get pushed inside another portal that closed before Seonghwa could keep him out. 

“San! San!” She yelled, staring at the spot where San disappeared. Mirae glanced at Ten, who was still within the grip of Wooyoung’s shadow form. “Wooyoung, get out of the way,” She said, her eyes glowing red. 

“Project Apocalypse must go online without any interruptions,” Ino said. 

“Wooyoung,” Mirae looked over at the shadow form still wrapped around the male. “Get out of the way.” 

The shadow seemed to slither away from Ten, transforming back into Wooyoung as Mirae’s staff began to glow the same red glow from her eyes and fingertips. “If you kill me, you won’t know where Yunho and San are,” Ten pointed out. “If you join us, Project Apocalypse, you will have them back, unharmed, not possessed or crazy that’s for sure. If you refuse, let’s just say you will have lost two more people you care so much about. In such a short span of time too.” 

“Don’t join them, Mirae,” Hongjoong called out. “Yunho and San wouldn’t want you to join them either.” 

“There’s nothing but pain for you if you join them,” Wooyoung chimed in. “It’s not going to end. It’ll only get worse.”

“If you can’t command, you must obey,” Baekhyun said quietly. 

The words made Mirae look over at him and she struck her staff into the ground leading up to where he was standing, the shockwave sending the rest of them flying back in different directions. “How dare you control me,” Mirae muttered, the glow in her eyes becoming brighter than ever. 

“Mirae don’t join them!” Seonghwa called out, the green glow in his eyes and fingertips. 

She ran up to Baekhyun and before he could get away, she struck her staff in the ground again, the impact making him stumble and fall. Mirae grabbed him by the collar. “Could you really kill me, Lee Mirae?” He said. “One of the last in our group, the sentimental value of it all is enticing isn’t it? You don’t have it in you to kill me. You keep searching for a face to blame for all your grievances, when that face is staring right back at you in the mirror.” 

Baekhyun’s satisfied expression soon turned into horror when Mirae’s eyes turned black. “You really are a monster,” He said, before disappearing. 

Mirae looked back at the group where a portal had opened. “Ino.” 

“Baekhyun is part of Project Apocalypse. It is about to go online in a matter of hours,” Ino explained. “Make your choice, Mirae. If you want to see Yunho and San again, if you want to find them unharmed, you will make the right choice.” 

Mark, Taemin, Lucas, and Taeyong had entered the portal. Mirae closed her eyes. She could hear Yunho calling out to her. Somehow, she had relayed what was happening to Yunho, who was now also aware of what was going on. 

I’m here in this kind of wild west village

There’s so many crows, a murder of crows.

It’s deserted

Mirae, don’t join them, just find me, I’ll tell you where to go

San won’t want you joining them either, and Wooyoung will know what’s going to happen if you do

Don’t join them 

She kept hearing him. Mirae opened her eyes. “Keep your word and I will consider.” 

“I’ve kept my word that I took you to the place where you will find your revenge, didn’t I?” Ten replied, seeing Jongin limp inside the portal. “You can trust me.” 

“Trust, that’s a word that I haven’t heard in a while,” Mirae struck the other end of her staff on the ground towards him, making him fall inside the portal. She turned to Ino. 

“You will regret that decision,” He said. 

“And you will regret the day you allowed everything to happen,” Mirae stared at him, a wave of energy hitting the elder once more, burning his face. As Ino fell over on the ground, he disappeared.

[marginalgloss]

I turn 35 tomorrow. How better to celebrate that than with some notes on the handful of video games I have managed to finish over the last ten months. In no particular order:

Judgment (PS4)

Something I think about often is that there aren’t many games which are set in the real world. By this I man the world in which we live today. You can travel through ancient Egypt or take a trip through the stars in the far future, but it’s relatively rare to be shown a glimpse of something familiar. Hence the unexpected popularity of the new release of Microsoft Flight Simulator, which lets you fly over a virtual representation of your front porch, as well as the Grand Canyon, and so on.

I found something like the same appeal in Judgment, a game which took me longer than anything else listed here to finish — seven or eight months, on and off. Like the Yakuza games to which it is a cousin, it’s set in Kamurocho, a fictional district of a real-world Tokyo; unlike other open-world games, it renders a space of perhaps half a square mile in intense detail. I spent a long time in this game wandering around slowly in first-person view, looking at menus and in the windows of shops and restaurants. The attention to detail is unlike everything I have ever seen, from the style of an air conditioning unit to the range of Japanese whiskies on sale in a cosy backstreet bar. And this was a thing of value at a time when the thought of going anywhere else at all, let alone abroad, seemed like it was going to be very difficult for a very long time.

It’s a game of at least three discrete parts. One of them is a fairly cold-blooded police procedural/buddy cop story: you play an ex-lawyer turned private eye investigating a series of grisly murders that, inevitably, link back to your own murky past. In another part you run around the town getting into hilarious martial arts escapades, battering lowlifes with bicycles and street furniture. In another, you can while away your hours playing meticulous mini-games that include darts, baseball, poker, Mahjong and Shogi — and that’s before we even get to the video game arcades.

All these parts are really quite fun, and if you want to focus on one to the exclusion of the others, the game is totally fine with that. The sudden tonal shifts brought about by these crazy and abrupt shifts in format are, I think, essentially unique to video games. But the scope of Judgment is a thing all its own. As a crafted spectacle of escapist fiction it’s comprehensive, and in its own way utterly definitive.  

Mafia: Definitive Edition (PS4)

I was amazed when I found out they were doing a complete remake of Mafia, a game I must have finished at least three or four times in the years after its release back in 2002. Games from this era don’t often receive the same treatment as something like Resident Evil, where players might be distracted by the controls and low-poly graphics of the original. 

A quality remake makes it easier for all kinds of reasons to appreciate what was going on there. (Not least because they have a lot of new games in the same series to sell.) But in the early 00s PC games like this one had started to get really big and ambitious, and had (mostly) fixed issues with controls; so there’s a hell of a lot more stuff going on in Mafia than in most games of that era. It was also a very hard game, with all kinds of eccentricities that most big titles don’t attempt today. Really I have no idea how this remake got made at all. 

But I was so fond of the original I had to play it. The obvious: it looks fantastic, and the orchestral soundtrack is warm and evocative. The story is basic, but for the era it seemed epic, and it’s still an entertaining spectacle. The original game got the balance of cinematic cutscenes, driving and action right the first time, even while Rockstar were still struggling to break out of the pastiche-led GTA III and Vice City. 

They have made it easier. You’re still reliant on a handful of medical boxes in each level for healing, but you get a small amount of regenerating health as well. You no longer have to struggle to keep your AI companions alive. Most of the cars are still heavy and sluggish, but I feel like they’re not quite as slow as they once were. They’ve changed some missions, and made some systems a little more comfortable — with sneaking and combat indicators and so on — but there aren’t any really significant additions.

The end result of all this is that it plays less like an awkward 3D game from 2002, and more like a standard third-person shooter from the PS3/360 era. Next to virtually any other game in a similar genre from today, it feels a bit lacking. There’s no skill tree, no XP, no levelling-up, no crafting, no side-missions, no unusual weapons or equipment, no alternative routes through the game. And often all of that stuff is tedious to the extreme in new titles, but here, you really feel the absence of anything noteworthy in the way of systems. 

My options might have been more limited in 2002 but back then the shooting and driving felt unique and fun enough that I could spend endless hours just romping around in Free Ride mode. Here, it felt flat by comparison; it felt not much different to Mafia III, which I couldn’t finish because of how baggy it felt and how poorly it played, in spite of it having one of the most interesting settings of any game in recent years. But games have come a long way in twenty years.    

Hypnospace Outlaw (Nintendo Switch)

If this game is basically a single joke worked until it almost snaps then it is worked extremely well. 

It seems to set itself up for an obvious riff on the way in which elements of the web which used to be considered obnoxious malware (intrusive popups and so on) have since become commonplace, and sometimes indispensable, parts of the online browsing experience. But it doesn’t really do that, and I think that’s because it’s a game which ends up becoming a little too fascinated by its own lore. 

The extra science fiction patina over everything is that technically this isn’t the internet but a sort of psychic metaverse delivered over via a mid-90s technology involving a direct-to-brain headset link. I don’t know that this adds very much to the game, since the early days of the internet were strange enough without actually threatening to melt the brains of its users. 

(This goes back to what I said about Judgment - I sometimes wonder if it feels easier to make a game within a complete fiction like this, rather than simply placing it in the context of the nascent internet as it really was. Because this way you don’t have to worry too much about authenticity or realism; this way the game can be as outlandish as it needs to be.) 

But, you know. It’s a fun conceit. A clever little world to romp around in for a while. 

Horace (Nintendo Switch)

I don’t know quite where to begin with describing this. One of the oddest, most idiosyncratic games I’ve played in recent years. 

As I understand it this platformer is basically the creation of two people, and took about six years to make. You start out thinking this is going to be a relatively straightforward retro run-and-jump game — and for a while, it is — but then the cutscenes start coming. And they keep coming. You do a lot of watching relative to playing in this game, but it’s forgivable because they are deeply, endearingly odd. 

It’s probably one of the most British games I’ve ever played in terms of the density and quality of its cultural references. And that goes for playing as well as watching; there’s a dream sequence which plays out like Space Harrier and driving sequences that play out like Outrun. There are references to everything from 2001 to the My Dinner with Abed episode of Community. And it never leans into any of it with a ‘remember that?’ knowing nod — it’s all just happening in the background, littered like so much cultural detritus. 

A lot of it feels like something that’s laser-targeted to appeal to a certain kind of gamer in their mid-40s. And, not being quite there myself, a lot of it passed me by. Horace is not especially interested in a mass appeal — it’s not interested in explaining itself, and it doesn’t care if you don’t like the sudden shifts in tone between heartfelt sincerity and straight-faced silliness. But as a work of singular creativity and ambition it’s simply a joyous riot. 

Horizon: Zero Dawn (PS4)

I stopped playing this after perhaps twelve or fifteen hours. There is a lot to like about it; it still looks stunning on the PS4 Pro; Aloy is endearing; the world is beautiful to plod around. But other parts of it seem downright quaint. It isn’t really sure whether it should be a RPG or an action game. And I’m surprised I’ve never heard anyone else mention the game’s peculiar dedication to maintaining a shot/reverse shot style throughout dialogue sequences, which is never more than tedious and stagey.

The combat isn’t particularly fun. Once discovered most enemies simply become enraged and blunder towards you, in some way or another; your job is to evade them, ensnare them or otherwise trip them up, then either pummel them into submission or chip away at their armour till they become weak enough to fall. I know enemy AI hasn’t come on in leaps and bounds in recent years but it’s not enough to dress up your enemies as robot dinosaurs and then expect a player to feel impressed when they feel like the simplest kind of enrageable automata. Oh, and then you have to fight human enemies too, which feels like either an admission of failure or an insistence that a game of this scale couldn’t happen without including some level of human murder. 

I don’t have a great deal more to say about it. It’s interesting to me that Death Stranding, which was built on the same Decima engine, kept the frantic and haphazard combat style from Horizon, but went to great lengths to actively discourage players from getting into fights at all. (It also fixed the other big flaw in Horizon — the flat, inflexible traversal system — and turned that into the centrepiece of the game.) 

Disco Elysium (PS4)

In 2019 I played a lot of Dungeons and Dragons. I’m talking about the actual tabletop roleplaying game, not any kind of video game equivalent. For week after week a group of us from work got together and sort of figured it out, and eventually developed not one but two sprawling campaigns of the never-ending sort. We continued for a while throughout the 2020 lockdown, holding our sessions online via Roll20, but it was never quite the same. After a while, as our life circumstances changed further, it sort of just petered out.

I mention all this because Disco Elysium is quite clearly based around the concept of a computerised tabletop roleplaying game (aka CRPG). My experience of that genre is limited to the likes of Baldurs Gate, the first Pillars of Eternity and the old Fallout games, so I was expecting to have to contend with combat and inventory management. What I wasn’t expecting was to be confronted with the best novel I’ve read this year.

To clarify: I have not read many other novels this year, by my standards. But, declarations of relative quality aside, what I really mean is that this game is, clearly and self-consciously, a literary artefact above all. It is written in the style of one of those monolithic nineteenth century novels that cuts a tranche through a society, a whole world — you could show it to any novelist from at least the past hundred years and they would understand pretty well what is going on. It is also wordy in every sense of that term: there’s a lot of reading to do, and the text is prolix in the extreme. 

You could argue it’s less a game than a very large and fairly sophisticated piece of interactive fiction. The most game-like aspects of it are not especially interesting. It has some of the stats and the dice-rolling from table-top roleplaying games, but this doesn’t sit comfortably with the overtly literary style elsewhere. Health and morale points mostly become meaningless when you can instantly heal at any time and easily stockpile the equivalent of health potions. And late on in the game, when you find yourself frantically changing clothes in order to increase your chances of passing some tricky dice roll, the systems behind the game start to feel somewhat disposable. 

Disco Elysium is, I think, a game that is basically indifferent to its own status as a game. Nothing about it exists to complement its technological limitations, and nor is it especially interested in the type of unique possibilities that are only available in games. You couldn’t experience Quake or Civilisation or the latest FIFA in any other format; but a version of Disco Elysium could have existed on more or less any home computer in about the last thirty years. And, if we were to lose the elegant art and beautiful score, and add an incredibly capable human DM, it could certainly be played out as an old-fashioned tabletop game not a million miles from Dungeons and Dragons.

All of the above is one of the overriding thoughts I have about this game. But it doesn’t come close to explaining what it is that makes Disco Elysium great.

[frozenartscapes]

Hey! I just had a little idea for the Modern AU! Since El likes drawing, how about Byleth gets her a drawing tablet?

Yes!

At first she is confused. Very confused. “I thought you said you were going to get some drawing supplies?”

“El, this is for drawing! Look, you plug it into the computer here. And then you take this pen and hold it close to the pad, and it moves the cursor around like the mouse does.”

“...Ok... But how does it draw?”

“I was getting to that.” Byleth opens up a program she already downloaded. It was a design app, not the expensive subscription-based one but maybe if El gets into this she might consider getting that one. She sets up a blank page and hands El the pen.

“These little buttons along the side all have different functions. That one there is the paintbrush,” she said, pointing to the little brush icon. El’s a little clumsy with the stylus at first, but manages to drag the cursor over to the icon. Without question, she tapped the pen down on the tablet to click the icon before Byleth could explain, and Byleth felt a little rush of pride that her former student was so intuitive.

“So imagine the tablet is that white space. Whatever you draw on there will show up wherever the cursor is.”

Edelgard experiments by drawing a few lines and squiggles. “This is...certainly different,” she comments, “It’s hard to draw when I can’t look down at what my hands are doing.”

“That takes some getting used to,” Byleth assured her, “But look!” She reached for the keyboard and tapped two buttons at the same time, and the last line El had drawn vanished without a trace.

“Wh...what was that? How did you do that without an eraser?”

“‘Command-Z’,” Byleth told her, “I’m not much of a graphic artist, but I do know about that one. It’s basically an ‘undo’ button. Any mistake you made that you don’t like, you can just undo it with that, rather than fight with an eraser or try to fix it with paint.”

“Well, that’s certainly much more forgiving,” El sighed in relief, “That...would make things a lot easier.”

“It gets better! Here, let me show you how to find brushes.”

The first few drawings El does aren’t masterpieces in any respect. They were mostly for her to get used to using the program and the tablet. But she’s hooked almost instantly. Byleth comes home often finding her either drawing, or watching tutorials about drawing or the program itself, learning new tips and techniques to improve her skills.

Not everything is smooth sailing. Byleth was worried El was going to launch the computer monitor off the balcony when she was trying to learn the pen tool.

She starts experimenting with vectors once she does learn, however, and finds she almost likes the simplistic graphic style better than strict realism. She takes inspiration from some of the tattoos she’s gained to cover scars and remember friends. She starts hoarding books on design and form. And font. She still hates all the grammar rules but begins to actually understand why the rules exist after discovering typeface.

It blows her mind when she realizes that she can turn her own handwriting into a font.

She also learns that she can bring photos into the drawing program and change and enhance them there, too. The concept of photography itself was wild to her - the fact that a single moment could be captured in an instant, preserved forever in the purest form of realism. But then to take the realistic quality of a photo and change it! From something as simple as removing a blemish on a face to fully changing the colours and background! Even in this modern age with all this technology, people are still finding ways to alter reality through art and it amazes her.

She gets herself a camera not long after that revelation, and Byleth often accompanies her out on trips through the city. She photographs things no one in their right mind would photograph, and while some find it strange she’s so intent on getting a perfect shot of a pigeon, Byleth finds it endearing. She had grown so used to this world that banal things like pigeons went unnoticed by her. But El saw this world with wonder and amazement in a way she never could before. This world hadn’t hurt her the way her old one had. She wasn’t jaded and bitter about this one, and could still find beauty in everything. Even in pigeons.

Byleth suggests she create a blog to share her art. And she never really expected the small but notable following El gained as a result of that. Yet she was not at all surprised.

[max4pubg0]

Choosing Your Wedges Properly Can Lower Your Score

Choosing your wedges

It is estimated that 75% of shots during a round are played within 100 feet of the pin. As a consequence, over the past decade, wedges have become increasingly sophisticated, and dexterity with these instruments will certainly both lower your score and add to your enjoyment of the game.

Many golfers, including pros, now carry 2 to 4 wedges in their bag, yet what sets them apart is their mastery, through practice. The pros spend hours every day honing their skills with their wedges.

Grooves in irons channel moisture and grass away from the club surface, thereby allowing for better, cleaner contact with the golf ball much like treads on a tire.

Effective this year there have been rules to limit groove volume. This basically means the limits on grooves on all clubs, excluding drivers and putters, are going to be reduced and they will become shallower and narrower, but these arguably will have a minimal effect for the average golfer. Grooves are either of the U-groove, Square -groove or V- groove nature. Larger grooves allow for more spin.

The sharpness of the edges of the grooves will also be more stringently regulated on all clubs will a loft of 25 degrees or more (roughly your 5 iron through to your wedges) which will also help to preserve your golf balls for slightly longer.

My personal belief is that limiting the size of grooves will bring more skill back into the game and force ball manufacturers to produce a different ball. All of which will dilute the 'Bomb and Gauge' mentality prevalent in today's game, AND it will also bring back a lot of golf courses, which technology today has necessitated increasing their lengths, to normality.

Non-professionals will have until 2024 to change their clubs which at this point in time, should not present a problem as the existing clubs will be outdated and old models.

Particular grinds, like a C grind, are becoming increasingly popular with short-game artistes. This is where the heel and toe are ground down on the trailing side of the sole. This allows the sole and leading edge to lay flat on shots where the face needs opening, while still providing bounce relief on full shots. In actuality, these wedges can give the best of both worlds to golfers of all levels.

Gap Wedges

Gap wedges were designed to fill the gap that exists between your pitching and sand wedge. A gap wedge allows you more opportunity to play full shots when you are faced with those difficult in-between distances.

Today's pitching wedges have lofts from 44° to 48° and sand wedges from 54° to 58°. That's a difference of around 10. The loft differential between a standard nine iron and pitching wedge is 4, so the gap between a pitching wedge and a sand wedge is almost 2.5 club lengths.

One is therefore forced to choke down on the wedge shots much of the time, and we all know that 3/4 shots are much tougher to play than full shots.

Gap wedges generally have 51° or 52° degrees of loft, which places them nicely in the middle. Most of the premium manufacturers produce gap wedges that match their sets. There are also specific companies that specialize in wedges, in all lofts, such as Feel Golf, Vokey wedges, Bettinardi Golf and Eidolon Golf.

Unfortunately, one of the best wedge manufacturers, Sonartec, closed up shop, due to a company raider, rather than the quality of the wedges.

Gap wedges have "bounce", but the measurement or degree of bounce isn't that relevant because gap wedges are mainly used for full shots. Bounce is where the trailing edge of the wedge sits below the leading edge at the address position.

If possible, look for a gap wedge with a similar face profile and shaft weight o your existing wedges.

Sand Wedges

Sand wedges are designed to slice through bunker sand and can also be used for approach shots and chipping around the greens.

They too have "bounce" which allows the club head to slide smoothly through the sand without digging.

Sand wedges are available in different "degrees' of bounce:

Low handicaps - may prefer a little less bounce (around 8). This enables a low handicapper to judge shots more accurately from all sand conditions. However, it requires more skill to benefit from the low bounce - you must be able to hit the selected spot behind the ball with good precision, especially in softer sand where the sole will not slide that easily.

High handicaps - are most secure with high bounce (around 16) sand wedges. These provide maximum margin for error out of sand (especially soft sand) because of the high "bounce' angle - you can hit with a generous degree of latitude behind the ball without much resulting difference. However, while high bounce wedges are great from soft sand, they are a disadvantage from firmer sand bunkers as they may be inclined to "bounce".

When chipping with a sand wedge, the same rules apply as in lob wedges.

Lob Wedges

Lob wedges perform those delicate up and downs around the greens better than any other club.

They generally have 60° to 64° degrees of loft and are therefore one club more lofted than a sand wedge. Lob wedges are primarily used for chipping around the greens. The extra loft gets the ball up quickly, and the additional spin that the loft applies, stops the ball more effectively.

Lob wedges are great for popping the ball up quickly, over bunkers or for attacking the pin in tight positions 'a la Phil Mickelson'. Lob wedges are most effective from 60 yards in.

Caveat: Do not purchase a lob wedge if you're battling to chip with your sand wedge. Because it has greater loft, you're required to execute a fuller swing to cover the same distance, which greatly increases your risk.

Practicing on a consistent basis is a necessity, not just with the lob wedge, but also with all aspects of your short game.

When it comes to bounce, the same rules apply:

* Low bounce lob wedges (around 4 degrees) tend to be best for lower handicaps and are perfect for players who like to be creative around the greens. They are also the most effective option from tight lies and firm turf conditions. The combination of less bounce and a narrower sole lowers the leading edge of the blade to promote clean contact. However, mistakes are heavily punished because the leading edge digs in on mis-hits.

* There isn't enough bounce to help it slide through. In bunkers, low bounce lob wedges are only effective in firm or hardpan conditions - they don't have enough bounce to slide through medium or fluffy sand.

Mid bounce lob wedges (around 8 degrees) are great for mid handicaps. They are versatile and offer a good blend of finesse and forgiveness. Mid bounce lob wedges can be used in a wide variety of sand and turf conditions. The bounce is sufficient to prevent over digging and helps create a smoother gliding action under the ball for more consistent shot making. They are effective from bunkers as well as around the greens.

Recommended mid bounce lob wedges:

High bounce lob wedges (around 12 degrees) are generally preferred by higher handicaps and work best in lush and soft turf conditions and from soft, fluffy bunkers. They react well on mis-hits behind the ball and are generally more forgiving.

During winter, or on courses that don't have much grass cover, high bounce wedges may "bounce" excessively through impact resulting in skinned/thin shots.

Caveat: For lower handicaps, high bounce wedges are clumsy and difficult to "finesse".

Lastly, remember that less expensive wedges are only made from traditional stainless steel, which may feel a little harder and offer less spin.

Premium wedges are either forged or cast from soft carbon steel which gives/imparts a softer feel and a little more spin. Similarly, copper and brass options are also a little softer and offer the same benefits.

Black oxide and other non-standard finishes reduce glare (reflection), but do not offer any appreciable playability advantage. A chrome finish is the most popular finish found on today's wedges.

As with all types of tools, to develop proficient skills, practice makes perfect and the more time you spend with your شحن شدات ببجي, the faster you will accomplish reducing your score. The answer is in the dirt!

Barry Lotz, J.D., Ph.D. is the director of the Professional Golf Teachers Association of America. He is a member of the Golf Writers Association of America, the California Golf Writers Association, and serves both as a Consultant and Mediator to the golf industry. He is also the author of numerous books, including "333 Best Web Sites for Golfers" and his current book, "How to Build Business Relationships Through Golf" is in the Top Ten Golf Business Book's best seller list.

[mirrerover]

Shipyard Stars

Spock’s bedroom on Earth would be called spacious by almost everyone’s standards. His parents allocated him almost the entire third level in the building -adequate room to meditate, study, and exercise- upon their arrival one year ago. His father out of practical reasons, his mother for reasons Spock believes might be partially grounded in emotions. Perhaps guilt for uprooting his life on Vulcan. Or out of an impulse to cosset him as human mothers are prone to. Both unnecessary.

The space is minimal and open, per Vulcan tradition, but never seems as small as it does with James Tiberius Kirk at the centre of it. With Jim comes a presence that seems to large to be contained by his adolescent body. Jim is a bright blaze of fire and gold, feelings boldly crackling in the air around him in a way that would be considered shameful on Spock’s home planet. But there’s never shame in the kaleidoscope of Jim’ many human emotions. Only anger.

Spock observes Jim from his mat on the floor. He had been meditating when interrupted by Jim climbing in through the window to unapologetically rummage through his drawers. Jim has taken to keeping many of his things at Spock’s place where they cannot be confiscated by his mother or teachers. A safe place as Spock’s parents haven’t entered his room or gone through his possessions without his explicit permission since he was four.

“May I enquire to the reason for your presence?”

Jim turns over one of his data pads in his hand before depositing it back where he found it.

“They’re sending her up soon.”

After a year on Earth, Spock has become very familiar with how humans will eschew clear and concise language in favour of a mixture of verbal and nonverbal cues. Jim in particular will start every conversation somewhere in the middle, brain ten steps ahead of his words, confident Spock will catch up to him. This time it’s easy. The newest addition to the fleet has been nearly all that Jim has spoken of these last few months.

“The final stages of assembly will require the ship to be in orbit.”

Jim’s bright blue eyes lock with Spock’s briefly before he returns to his task of depositing and retrieving his belongings in Spock’s space at will.

“It’ll be impossible to get to her up there.”

Spock knows this to be the truth. But he has also learned that for however loud and brash Vulcans and humans alike might consider Jim to be, the things Jim does not say or do can be just as telling.

“You do not possess access clearance to it on Earth either.”

Jim sighs and rolls his eyes towards the heavens, indicating that he finds Spock particularly obtuse at this moment. The gesture used to irk Spock. Maybe it still would if he wasn’t trained from a young age in controlling such a feeling because –despite Jim possessing a remarkable mind compared to his human peers— Spock has been at the top of his classes for his entire life, even back on Vulcan where his genetic heritage was thought to put him at a disadvantage. And these days he’s more aware of Jim’s tendency to manipulate others into action by appealing to their baser instincts. Like pride.

“Y’know, I’ve found that a lot of the times it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission.”

There’s a tremor in Spock’s eyebrow that has started to plague him ever since his family moved to Iowa.

“You are choosing short term gratification over long-term gains. Your freedom gets reduced every time you break the rules people set for you.” Jim seems completely preoccupied with packing his bag while Spock considers this a notion worth his attention. “Some might call that short-sightedness.”

The tool Spock gifted Jim for his birthday, a scanner of Vulcan technology that had made Jim come alight upon receiving it, is shoved into the bottom of his bag.

“She would never let me.”

Spock has little doubt that Admiral Winona Kirk would not grant access to two members of the public to roam around on what was going to be Starfleet’s most technological advanced ship in the fleet. Regardless of one of them being her youngest son. Or the other the son of one of their most important foreign diplomats.

Still.

“You should address your query through the proper channels.”

“What’s the point of proper channels if they’re not gonna listen anyway? All that’ll accomplish is tipping them off.” Jim zips the bag closed with unnecessary force and smiles a smile that Spock isn’t sure could be qualified as a smile at all. A sharp and cutting thing showing teeth but no happiness. “Wouldn’t be the same anyway. There’s a difference with having to make do with what people give you and just going out there and capturing it.”

Spock has noticed a growing fascination on Jim’s part with stealing, both in the literal and metaphorical sense, that he firmly resolves to curb in the future.

“I agree,” Spock says, eyes firmly locked with Jim’s. “Things freely given and things taken by force cannot be considered the same.”

Silence can be even louder than words when wielded by James Tiberius Kirk. He lets his gaze wander pointedly across Spock’s room and the sophisticated educational tools provided within it. Material possessions that Spock doesn’t share with anyone but Jim.

“Some are given more than others.”

Jealousy. An emotion even humans strive to repress. But Spock knows that it doesn’t drive Jim as much as it controls many other humans he has encountered. Fairness. Injustice. Those are the primary motivators of Jim’s anger even at his relatively young age.

“Yes,” Spock acknowledges. “We are not born equal.”

There’s a pause to Jim, as if he’s deciding whether he will allow Spock's acknowledgement of his world view to kill the momentum of his growing anger. Within their time together, Spock has become apt at sensing and steering Jim’s moods in a way no one else in Jim’s life has. And Jim, possessing great skill at picking people’s motivations apart himself, seems to constantly swing between joy at being known by Spock and fearful rebellion at being so completely seen by another person.

Vulnerability. Jim hardly ever shows it like he does now, body still and voice soft: “What if this is my only chance? To be on a ship like her?”

Fear. Spock has discovered that in Jim fear and anger run close at times. Sometimes Jim chooses anger because he prefers it over the cold touch of fear. Fear at not living up to his parents, fear of never leaving Iowa, fear of never exploring the stars. His dreams slowly suffocating between the endless oppressive stretches of corn until they die.  

“You’ll serve aboard many star ships when you join Starfleet,” Spock says decisively. Like there is no doubt Jim will join the ranks of Earth’s primary space branch. And Spock doesn’t have any doubts. Jim has many qualities that humans admire in one another. Qualities that would even garner respect from non-humans. From Vulcans.

Spock speaks the words as he speaks all his words. Because he thinks they deserve to be heard. And even though Jim is heading towards the exit, shoulders squared like he’s already willing his soft-spoken question into a soon forgotten memory, Spock has little doubt his answer is being heard. Spock finds his own words throw back into his face by Jim in the most inopportune of moments.

“So,” Jim says, caught in the doorway like a frozen storm, “you comin’?”

Within hours of first meeting him Spock had discovered that in Jim’s world there were clear sides. His mother, verbally abusive stepfather, and other figures of authority on one side. And Jim, fierce and alone, abandoned by his older brother, on the other. But since the start Spock had recognized the falsehood of this lone wolf narrative Jim had spun for himself. Their peers are drawn to Jim; they rally behind him in his school rebellions, captivated by his charisma, and cheer him on in his revolts. The day Jim realises the full scope of his magnetism would surely prove to be… interesting.  

Also, there is Spock. Where Jim goes, Spock follows, despite his human mother’s reservation and his Vulcan father’s disapproval. Spock’s presence to curtail some of Jim’s most reckless impulses could only prove to be beneficial. It is the logical choice.

So Spock rises from the bed and smooths down the creases in his robes. “I shall accompany you.”

~

A siren starts to blare in the distance.

“You think that’s for us?”

They’d ventured deeper into the belly of Starfleet’s future flagship than Spock had anticipated beforehand. Jim had been prepared, as Spock had known he would be, circumventing the security with his mother’s cloned Starfleet credentials. The Vulcan technology Spock had gifted Jim in the past played a key role in this deception and had immediately forced Spock to re-examine the tools deemed save to bestow upon Jim’s moral creativity and technical aptitude.

Spock tilts his head to the left in consideration. “Our breaking and entering would seem the most likely explanation for setting off the alarms to a secured facility.”

“Yeah,” Jim agrees, seemingly in awe of the flashing red lights and ear-piercing shrill of the alarm bouncing off the walls in increasing urgency.

Then Jim does something so illogical it stuns. He laughs, deep and boisterous, shaking his frame with tremors as if his body can’t contain the wealth of mirth he’s feeling. A display of emotion so blatant it would be considered indecent back home. Unseen. Spock can feel heat rising to his cheeks.

“We should run,” Jim says when he catches his breath, pupils blown wide in excitement.

“It would be futile. The activated security measures would take too long for us to circumvent. The chance of achieving a successful escape is negligible.”

Another pearl of laughter rips from Jim’s throat. The sound tugging at a counterpart hidden somewhere deep inside that Spock keeps carefully locked behind years of rigid mental training.  

“They’ll never take us alive.”

A nonsensical statement as Starfleet would never use deadly force on two adolescent children but Spock knows Jim is alluding to something else he can’t grasp the meaning of yet. Jim’s mother tongue is full of allegories and again Spock curses the language’s lack of precision and layered meanings. But Spock is yet to find a puzzle he can’t solve if he fully applies himself and he doesn’t see how a single teenage human boy could be any different.

Then Jim runs, a flash of gold down a corridor.

And Spock runs after.

~

@anarchisticandy @blueberrymafia, I finished a 1500 word Spirk drabble I started for you guys 2 years ago. XD 

Inspired by one of our fav fics Magpie by @waldorph

[simptasia]

lost characters based solely on how i portray them in my text post memes

jack: constantly crying and/or screaming. no emotional stability. no social skills. terrible bedside manner. endearingly bland. into powerful women. loves the red sox... a lot. daddy issues. doesn’t believe in himself. has shitty tattoos. being crushed under the weight of everybody’s expectations. more or less hot. he is not cool at all. repressed attraction to guys. chronic hero syndrome. adorably embarrassing as a dad. passionately and violently overreacts to the mere concept of people believing in things. mansplains but in a non malicious way because he is literally that oblivious. gets into fights a lot. dissociates in mirrors. gets injured a lot but doesn’t wanna make a fuss. thinking about caves

kate: desperate need to protect women. bi. is frustrated by jack and sawyer’s personalities but wants to fuck them oh so much. rowdy. feminist. biceps. will call you out. is love with claire and jack and sun and- she has a lot of love to give. she can be ur angel or ur devil. exasperated. doesn’t understand astrology but she’s trying. she’s the slytherin friend every hufflepuff needs. uses guns. doesn’t know how to cook. go to relationship advice is “dump him” or “suck his dick”.  just because you put things in her vagina doesn’t mean you know her. gemini

hurley: sad clown. haha laughter! hiding real pain! has debilitating mental illness. he’s doing his best to stay positive. virgin. genuinely kind soul. overwhelmed by food. awkward around girls he likes. much smarter and wiser than anybody thinks, including himself. a special boy who we all love. says dude a lot. the only valid rich person ever. doesn’t like himself. sees dead people. kinda silly. also he’s fat (but i don’t joke about it in a cruel way)

sawyer: compulsive need to nickname people. from the south. bewildered by charlie’s english slang. covering up vulnerability with jokes and being mean. loves juliet. is an asshole but a loveable asshole (this varies, mostly he’s an asshole). conventionally attractive to the point of boring. got a Thing going on with miles. can’t stand daniel being smart around him. babies freak him out. treats animals poorly

locke: very supportive and new agey type. i’ve made two jokes about him encouraging people to jack off, that wasn’t on purpose but Okay. he doesn’t know what its like to have friends. he says Deep Sounding but odd things. he’s super duper into nature. he suffers. he’s very forgiving of ben to the point of absurdity and he desperately wants ben to love and fuck him. or maybe they are fucking. Who Knows. he loves knifes

sayid: sexy, suffering shannon fucker. he doesn’t respect boone. his life is an endless parade of misery culminating in going on autopilot. respects women

jin: he has no idea what’s going on and his life revolves around sun

sun: beautiful. perfect. very passionate about gardening

claire: bi. frequently ignored. cutesy and sweet. super into astrology and new age stuff. her cheery demeanour can only hold on so long before she loses it. kinda dumb. has baby. vanilla, at least for now. loves charlie but is kinda frustrated by him. goes feral and “kitten thinks of murder all day” sums it up

charlie: that he needs attention and validation to survive would be a gross understatement. bi. trans. punk. stupid. english. really horny and slutty. adores music more than anything. drug addict (again, i refuse to be cruel). severe jealousy issues. inferiority superiority complex. hates himself but will get offended if you hate him. can’t take any form of criticism. is bewildered by sawyer’s american-isms. bit of a madonna whore complex. smol but will go the fuck off like a terrier nipping at ya heels. catholic and riddled with catholic guilt. goofy and obnoxious and he knows it. passive aggressive. terrified of bees. nice ass. mood swings. did i mention he’s short? anyway here’s wonderwall

ben: ugly. just plain terrible. beaten and bruised. seething with rage and pain on the inside. virgin. liar. just causes problems on purpose. resembles a lemur or rat, rodents in general. loves bunnies. doesn’t think sex is real. just a really bad idea for him to be around juliet. has no friends. doesn’t care about other people. says creepy shit just because. he knows he’s a terrible person. killed people. the friend nobody likes and a general nuisance to the other characters

(also my literal first text post meme about ben was a joke about him eating his parents??? 2014 sapphire, i wanna talk...)

juliet: mom friend. seems very calm but she’s screaming on the inside. basically she’s the This Is Fine meme. depressed. has big tits. low-key kinky. feminist in a very gentle way. has no ill will towards kate and will only fight her for fun. concerned for daniel’s well being. has no chemistry with jack. loves sawyer. flat measured calm way of speaking. she’s breaking apart at the seams but will offer you a nice glass of water :)))

michael: has a son..... uh...... enjoys minecraft?

(i’m sorry)

desmond: scottish. drinks. easily and constantly confused. magic psychic time powers, like visions and electromagnetic dimensional stuff. easily angered. fucked off by the concept of time and destiny in general. hhhhhhhot

smokey: Hello Fellow Humans I Promise This Is My Own Skin Haha

miles: bi. aro. loves money (trying to fill the hole in his heart with money and things). emo/punk. pretends not to care but he really does care. thinks emotions and romance are dumb but of course is emotional... and kinda wants love. but not that he LIKES you or anything. exasperated. thinks everybody else is weird. kinda slutty or at least trying to be. masochist and into BDSM. mean to daniel for no reason. daddy issues. resting bitch face. jaded, bitter and salty. responds to romantic things dan or char say with vulgar or mocking comments. grew up poor. can hear dead people. trying too hard to be edgy. deadpan snarker. Fuck Off I’m Not Sad Don’t Look At Me [cries only around the audience and his mom]

walt: becoming older than 10 was when things went downhill for him

shannon: seems vapid but is more than that. deeply insecure. feels she can’t do anything right. constantly put down as worthless by other people. yeah she’s sad but she Looks Great. wants sayid to pound her (mood)

(gee, that was dark)

richard: very old and ageless. sees ben as a son figure. really not holding it together. seems smart but he has no fucking idea whats going on. cult mindset. quips curtly back at miles’ vulgar jokes. in love with miles based on very little interaction. misses his dead wife. has a cute giggle. is also hot. overwhelmed and just wants to go into the jungle and scream

frank: doesn’t understand what anybody is talking about. the only normal person here. doesn’t understand these kids today with their weird kinks. just wants to sleep. pilot. bit of a conspiracy theorist

boone: bi. stupid. soaked in blood a lot.  (L I T E R A L L Y all of my boone jokes are about him being dumb and bi and horribly injured and combos of those. i haven’t even made any incest jokes! what the actual fuck)

ana lucia: “[with tears in her eyes] DO U WANNA FIGHT??”. highly volatile. lesbian. bros with jack but will roast him. angery, sad and underloved

daniel: bi, agender, neurodivergent, just, just especially brain weird. The Scientist trope but kind of a shitty scientist. smart. in love with charlotte. in love with desmond. likes rats a lot. talks weird and soft spoken. withdrawn and polite but with bursts of bitterness. his mom won’t let him live the live he wants to live. time travel weirdness. loves music. gifted kid burn out. has a mental and emotional collapse. thinks a hydrogen bomb will solve all his problems. skinny. touches people a lot. he’s not okay. romantic. overwhelmed. memory problems. his lack of life experience and softness is used to contrast miles. takes some statements literally. pretty vanilla (for now) and doesn’t know what certain kinks are. likes that charlotte is Tough & Rowdy. doesn’t swear much. bad hair. was unhinged in college. has radiation poisoning

libby: neurodivergent and in love with hurley

eko: yeah... i’ve legit only used him for jokes where charlie says something EXTREMELY vulgar and eko says “go to church”

charlotte: bi, loud, passionate, beautiful, angery, knows All The Languages, huge nerd, loves daniel and thinks he’s a Snack, outspoken feminist, archaeologist/anthropologist and wants to explore some fucking ruins, The Lost Lenore trope, loves chocolate, exasperated, great smile, subtly insecure, doesn’t get that she could just tell daniel how she feels, has had many indiana jones like adventures (off screen, of course), for example: crashing her dirtbike into all 7 wonders of the world

danielle: french and unhinged, has seen some shit

alex: just a young lady with no chill

jacob: suffers from terminal apathy. has little understand of human behaviour. doesn’t care about people. he just plain sucks. has no endearing qualities. causes many problems. beats the shit outta richard. doesn’t like technology. so removed from humanity that he’s a touch uncanny valley

christian, eloise, charles and anthony jokes each have their own kind of flavours but fuck it, i’ll sum them all up as: contemptuous cunts who deserve to die

aaron: just a baby boy. does baby things. has like 5 parents

vincent: a dog. a good boy. does he know more than he lets on? is he mysterious? no, he is just a dog

[bestsoftblog]

Best Compound Bow for Finger Shooting — Top Pick of 2020

Are you looking for the best compound bow for finger shooting that offers archers both beginners and experience finger shooters that ability to shoot accurately with a moderate target distance with their fingers?

Look no further?

Best Compound Bow for Finger Shooting

In this archery industry, I have read thousands of online reviews and analyze hundreds of pros and cons as well as watched tens of videos on how to use compound bows for finger shooting.

What is the Best Compound bow for finger shooting?

The Best Compound bow for finger shooting is the Oneida, which is the most accurate and nicest bow ever made with a moderate distance.

As the hardest hitting and smoothest bows, Oneida gives archers a blend of high performance and unique shooting experience.

This Oneida Eagle bows are made and built 100% in America.

The Oneida Black Eagle offers instinctive shooting and quicker speeds, easy to shoot, much faster, accurate draw cycle and better for long range shooting.

Here’s the best…

Related: 11 Best Compound Bow for Finger Shooters in 2020

Can you finger shoot a compound bow?

You can shoot a compound bow easily with no release under these scenarios:

You can shoot with two fingers if you have a long frame or if you have a short draw length.

You do this shooting by working around the string’s steep angle when at full draw.

Generally, this is called shooting a compound bow without a release.

Although, in some instances, it might decrease accuracy, but you should look for a bow that allows efficient finger shooting.

Related: Best Compound Bow under 500

Can you target shoot a bow in your backyard?

Beginner archers want to practice target shooting at home, and you can target shoot a bow in your backyard as well.

It makes archery convenient and more fun with a backyard target range.

Choosing a backyard target and backyard ranges are possible in rural areas or in cities if you are not risking a potential accident or not actually hunt.

How far can a 25 lb bow shoot?

A 25 lbs draw weight can hit a target from 60 or even 70 yards away successfully.

This 25lb bow shoot is great recreational target practice and can go as far as shooting 100 feet without losing accuracy, and with this kind of draw weight.

What is the easiest bow to shoot?

A powerful compound bow is easier to shoot and aim at a far target than a powerful recurve bow because the string forces at a full draw are reduced due to let-off.

Again, the compound bow is the easiest to shoot among other types of bow because it is more adjustable, smaller, has more model choice to choose from and available in the market.

Compound bows are a compromise between crossbows and recurve bows in that they are more challenging than crossbows and easier to shoot than recurves.

The following bows are very easy to pull and shoot.

PSE shoot down

Bohning Archery

Stan SX3 & HBC

Sweetspot

Barnsdale bows

Related: Best Compound Bow for under 300

Do you need a release aid for a compound bow?

Yes, you do need a release aid for compound bow; however, you can shoot a compound bow successfully without a release if your bow allows it.

If you do want to shoot a compound bow with your fingers, you need to master the fingers shot.

The draw weight of your compound bows tends to double the draw weight of recurve bow; this creates more tension on the fingers when drawing the bow and reduces comfort.

Related: Best Compound Bow under 600

Tuning compound Bow for Finger shooting

Tuning compound Bow for Finger shooting

Every finger shooter should use a shoot around rest to align their arrow nocks.

This will allow the cock feather to stick straight away from your bow.

Tweak your arrow nock rotation in order to achieve a perfect fletching clearance.

Watch this video and learn how to set up a compound bow for finger shooting that are both instinctive and barebow shooting.

Instinctive shooting

Instinctive shooting

How to set up a compound bow for finger shooting

How to set up a compound bow for finger shooting

You can shoot a compound bow with fingers as they are growing shorter with average bow having 32 to 34 inch axle to axle.

In finger shooting, it is difficult to shoot a bow shorter than 38 to 40 inches because it results in painful finger pinch due to acute string angles that are created at full draw.

How to shoot a compound bow

How to shoot a compound bow

Related: Best Women’s Beginner Bow

What is the Best Hoyt Compound Bow?

The Hoyt Defiant 34 compound bow is the number one choice bow designed perfectly as a fast and solid bow capable of hunting, 3D shooting, target shooting and can do anything you want and need.

Hoyt Compound bows are premier hunting bows that are in 3 categories such as ALPHA, ULTRA AND TURBO.

They are made of high-performance carbon or aluminum manufacturing.

ALPHA: These Hoyt compound bows are the most compact and lightest series designed perfectly for tree stands, ideal for long miles or blinds.

ULTRA: These Hoyt Compound bows are designed for stability when target hunting requires longer shots and features a longer axle to axle for extra forgiveness.

TURBO: The TURBO category of Hoyt Compound bows feature the fastest series with speeds up to 350 feet per second for maximum kinetic energy.

Hoyt Tribute — Hoyt Finger Bow

The Hoyt Tribute bow is specially designed for the finger shooter at 45” axle to axle and brace height of 8” for comfort and smooth shooting style.

This compound bows rolls smoothly straight off your fingers shock free and silently.

What is the Best Finger Shooting Bow?

The Barnsdale Classic X is the best bow ever made for finger shooting and are accurate and forgiving.

Read Also: Best Compound Bow under 1000

What is the Best Finger Shooting Compound Bow 2020?

The Hoyt Prevail 40 is the best bow for finger shooting in 2020 and is purpose–built to help you prevail in target shooting and hunting.

This Hoyt Prevail 40 boasts of XT2000 limb, rear stabilizer location, SVX and X3 cam & ½ performance systems and other advanced technologies.

Features

5.0 lbs mass weight

312FPS (ATA)

7 ¾“ Brace height

40 ¼“ Axle to Axle

What are the Best Mathews Finger Shooting Bows?Mathews Conquest Apex 7

The Mathews Conquest Apex 7 is a great bow that offers absolute and blazing speeds of up to 320 fps and is one of the most popular Mathews target bows used in 3D field competitions.

Its length provides stability with a weight ranges 30–40lbs, 40–50lbs, 60–70lbs and 70–80lbs.

Features

65% let-off

38” Axle to Axle

4.9 lbs mass weight

Draw length range 23”-30.5” and half sizes 23.5”-30.5”

IBO speed of 320 feet per second

Available in RH and LH orientation

Mathews Genuine bow string

Brace height of 7 inches

Straight line perimeter weighted Apex 7 bow cams

Parallel limbs

Frequently Asked QuestionsIs Bear Archery a good brand?

The Bear Archery is a good brand and one of the best compound bow manufacturers that offers typical compound bows in high quality classic designed looks and provides good value for your money.

What is the meaning of archers?

Archers are persons who shoot arrows from a bow for hunting, target shooting, sport, gaming practice or as a weapon to hunt games.

Is it bad to keep a recurve bow strung?

There is a risk to keep a string or unstring your recurve bow — though you can leave the bow strung for hours.

Keep in mind that recurve bow failures could happen while you are unstringing or stringing.

You can just leave your recurve bow strung if you are shooting on and off during the day.

Since a recurve bow is a bow whose limbs curve away from the archer when unstrung.

A recuvre bow stores more energy to deliver greater energy efficiently than straight-limbed bows.

This gives more amounts of kinetic energy and speed to the arrows.

What does a beginner archer need?

Archery can involve a range of accessories and equipment.

For a beginner archer to get started, all what you need are the basic equipment and accessories such as

A bow

A string

A bracer

Some arrows

A quiver

Finger tab

A bow stand

A bow stringer

A target to shoot at.

When you are beginning or getting started in archery, it can be challenging and overwhelming to figure out how to safely and properly shoot your bow.

Are Easton Arrows good?

The Easton Scout Arrows are good and an excellent choice for beginner archers as well as archers who shoot from a low poundage bow.

However, for archers whose bows have a draw weight of more than 30 pounds, it is advisable not to use these arrows because your bow is too powerful for Easton arrows.

How long should my arrows be for a 29 inch draw?

A beginner archer should be happy with a longer arrow; however, most experienced archers go for 27.5 inch arrow length for a 29 inch draw.

So how long should your arrows be depends on your skill level in archery and how far you’ve shot arrows at different targets.

What is index finger Archery release?

An index finger archery release is where a trigger is pulled to fire the arrow and control the shot precisely.

It gives the archer the ability to squeeze the trigger to activate and control the arrow and shoot the arrow precisely and accurately.

What is Trigger in Archery

In archery, a trigger is also called a release aid, mechanical release, or release and is a device that helps archers to fire arrows accurately and more precisely by using a trigger to release the bowstring, rather than the archer’s fingers.

It makes the release of the bow string faster and quicker to reduce the amount of torque put onto the bowstring from the archer’s fingers.

What is a longbow?

A longbow is a type of bow that is tall, almost equal to the user’s height and allow the archer a fairly long draw.

It limbs are circular or D-shaped in cross section and relatively narrow, so longbow is not recurved significantly.

What can be used as a bow string?

String materials that are traditional materials include raw hide, linen silk, hemp, sinew, and other vegetable fibers.

Natural fibers are effective and can be used on traditional wooden or composite bows but would be unusual on a compound bow or modern recurve bows.

Conclusion

Now you have learned what the best compound bow for finger shooting is. That is the Oneida, because it is the most accurate, nicest bow ever made for finger shooters.

Final Thoughts on the best compound bow for finger shooting

Oneida remains the smoothest bow that provides archers a blend of unique shooting experience and high performance.

Culled from Bestsoft Nigeria: https://www.bestsoftnigeria.biz/blog/best-compound-bow-for-finger-shooting/#ixzz6Yx5O30T4

[aion-rsa]

Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous Ending Explained

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The following contains spoilers for Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous.

Netflix and Dreamworks’ newest animated series, Jurassic: World Camp Cretaceous, takes the mythology of the Jurassic World franchise and focuses on a group of teen characters, surviving among the dinosaurs when the park’s safety features fail. Under the conceit that the park’s newest initiative is a camp for teens, a diverse group of young adults arrive to experience the wonder of living dinosaurs. But when, midway through the series, everything goes wrong, the kids are left on their own, forced to evade a carnotaurus and the incredibly dangerous Indominus rex. 

Not knowing whether a second season is planned, the final episode ends in a completely different place from where viewers might expect. While no second season has yet been announced, it’s clear from the final moments of the last episode that the story isn’t finished. While that may have left viewers feeling unresolved, the show is certainly enough fun for watchers to hope the characters will return for a second season, revealing how they put their survival skills to good use.

Catching the Ferry

While the first three episodes do a lot to establish the characters and the setting, as well as how it fits into the franchise, it’s episode four that really ramps up the stakes toward Camp Cretaceous’s ending. In episode four, the Indominus rex escapes its enclosure, and everything falls apart. “Assets” (dinosaurs) all over the park are on the loose. The kids, after returning to find their camp buildings destroyed, decide to make their way to the main park. After trial and error, they discover that it looks like the park has been abandoned.

And then, at the end of episode six, the alarm sounds. Episode seven begins with the evacuation order: “All park goers must report to the south ferry docks for immediate evacuation. Last ferry departs in two hours.” The timer is on, and the kids have to cross a park filled with hostile dinosaurs to make it off the island.

Once that goal is set, everything becomes about speed and distance. With one injured camper (Yasmina, previously the fastest among them, hurts her ankle in a fall), one slow camper (Ben, who just isn’t as athletic as the rest of them), and one baby dinosaur (Bumpy, the ankylosaurus the kids saw hatch, who imprinted on Ben, and whom Ben won’t abandon), speed is a challenge. Add to that a carnotaurus that seems absolutely hell-bent on attacking these kids, and that goal seems almost impossible.

And yet, the kids keep that sense of hope that they’ll make it. Right up until they don’t.

After an epic final battle between the campers and their carnotaurus nemesis, they finally exit a sealed building out onto the docks and into the sunshine. It’s that sunshine that seals their doom: the two hour limit would have put them on the docks at night. They’ve lost so many hours in their trip across the park, running from predators, counting on vehicles that abandon them in the wrong parts of the park, that morning has arrived, and the park has evacuated without them.

But the campers have been through so much that they refuse to give up. “They’ll be back for us, won’t they?” asks one. Darius, who has become the de facto leader of the group, answers, “Of course they will. And until then, we’ve got each other.” Their belief—and what they’ve already survived—promises these viewers that the campers will make it until someone arrives.

Or, possibly, they’ll build an entire civilization of their own while the grown ups are gone. Take that, Lord of the Flies.

Ben’s Fall

“None of the kids are going to die,” I promised my ten year old as we binged the last four episodes of Camp Cretaceous, all the while thinking, Come on, Dreamworks, don’t let any of these kids die…

As part of the Jurassic World franchise, there are no surprises in Camp Cretaceous having a body count, even though it’s aimed toward a younger audience. Over the course of the eight episodes, several adults are killed or eaten by therapods—without ever showing the bodies on screen. There’s no real blood or gore, but the intensity of the action is high enough that younger viewers won’t need anything more to get their adrenaline pumping.

In the second to last episode, Ben, the shiest camper, who’s least likely to take risks, saves the day. He crawls along the top of a speeding monorail to drop into the engineer’s car and stop the train from colliding with a stopped car. It’s a huge moment of triumph for Ben, and it’s immediately followed by a pteranodon shattering the glass of the train car and knocking Ben out the window, about to fall to his doom.

When, at the beginning of the final episode, Ben’s hand is firmly gripped by Darius, who’s trying to haul him back into the train, you can almost believe he’s going to make it. There’s a second when their hands slip, but Darius grabs Ben’s wrist with both hands, and the music shifts. Everything’s going to be all right.

Which is when the show goes for a one-two punch: a pteranodon knocks right into Ben, and Darius just can’t catch enough of his friend to keep him from plummeting from the tracks. The kids stare in horror from behind a crouched Darius as Ben hangs in the air, still reaching up for the train.

Worse, when the kids abandon the train (because it’s taking them away from the south docks), they lose track of Bumpy, Ben’s ankylosaurus. They debate: do they go back to look for Ben and Bumpy? Do they keep heading toward their only hope of escaping the island? What’s the moral choice? It’s a deep moment for younger viewers, knowing that there is no right answer: of course it’s the right thing to go look for Ben, but if it costs everyone else their lives—especially if Ben has already died in the fall—then they can’t afford to make the right choice.

So the campers leave Ben and Bumpy to their fates, hearts heavy with regret, while they continue their escape.

But, thank you Dreamworks, I did not lie to my ten year old. In the final moments of an intense last episode, after the rest of the campers are somewhat safe and the screen has gone dark, the animation continues, and Bumpy appears on screen, hurrying to Ben’s side. The boy lies still… but then his fingers twitch. Roll credits.

It’s possible that Ben will rise from this accident and become an antagonist determined to get revenge on the rest of the teens for abandoning him. But it’s equally likely that the campers will go out to look for him, now that they’ve lost the time crunch, and there will be a happy reunion for all. Only season two can tell us!

Sammy and Manta Corp

Although readers familiar with Michael Crichton’s Jurassic Park books may peg BioSyn as the company most likely to try to undermine InGen’s control over Isla Nublar and the science behind Jurassic World, the company that’s outed for corporate espionage in Camp Cretaceous is Manta Corp (possibly Manticore). In an effort to gain access to the technology being developed by Dr. Wu for InGen, Manta Corp blackmailed camper Sammy to become a spy. Sammy, a gregarious Latina who loves her huge ranch family and seems determined to become friends with everyone, is the least likely character to become a spy. She’s over the top, not under the table. And yet, it’s exactly those qualities that force her to spy in the first place.

Sammy cares deeply—for her family and her friends. Her family supplies all the meat used by Jurassic World, but they had to borrow money to get to where they are. And the people behind that money—Manta Corp—are determined to use every advantage to gain access to InGen’s technology. They tell Sammy’s family to send her to Camp Cretaceous to spy, or they’ll call their debt.

Sammy’s family refuses. Sammy sneaks off, determined to save her family from ruin.

When social media star Brooklyn catches Sammy spying in Dr. Wu’s office (more successfully than Brooklyn herself, who is caught), she doesn’t dwell on it. But when Brooklyn realizes she has video proof of Sammy’s spying, and her phone suddenly vanishes, Brooklyn is determined to call Sammy out.

Sammy’s equally determined to deny everything.

But when the stolen phone is discovered, broken, falling out of Sammy’s pocket, she has to face facts. She confesses everything, and loses the friendship of the camper she admires most.

At the end of the season, all the campers look well on their way to forgiving Sammy, but what will happen with Manta Corp? Will they arrive on the island, looking to retrieve whatever information their spy left behind? Or will they consider Sammy a loss, and look for another way to gain access to Isla Nublar? Odds are good that the threat of Manta Corp isn’t finished, and the teens will have to face them again in the future.

The Rescue

While this is probably the least precarious loose thread in Camp Cretaceous, viewers may wonder about the fate of Brooklyn’s social media channel, a major concern for a chunk of the series, will recover from the Internet randos who declare her “over.” When the superstar disappears, lost after the evacuation, will her fans come to the rescue? Will her disappearance be the thing that makes her a superstar again, or will she fade into obscurity? Likewise, Kenji’s wealthy family doesn’t seem to care much about him when he’s around, but when he’s missing, odds are good they’ll spare no expense to rescue their kid.

The most guaranteed team dedicated to rescuing the Camp Cretaceous campers is that of Dave and Roxie, their counselors, who’d intended to leave them for just forty-five minutes, and instead were never able to get back to them during the evacuation. Dave and Roxie do their best through the entire series to keep the teens out of trouble—an impossible proposition, even if the whole island hadn’t been evacuated. Remarkably, as the counselors follow the signal of the lost teens around the island, they never encounter the difficulties their campers do. Where the campers see the carnotaurus and have a dramatic encounter, Dave and Roxie see it off in the distance and manage to avoid an encounter entirely. When we last see the counselors, it’s on the back of an evacuation boat, with Roxie demanding that the security officer turn the boat around. Roxie, in fact, almost gets into a physical altercation with the security officer before Dave pulls her back. If anyone’s definitely determined to come to the rescue, it’s those two counselors, and even a mosasaurus won’t be able to stop them.

The faith that Darius pretends to have in those final moments—that of course someone will return for them—isn’t misplaced. Someone will be back for the kids.

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And until they return, at least the campers have each other.

The post Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous Ending Explained appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[bunkershotgolf]

Honma’s TR20 Irons: Players Gear Built to Appeal to a Broad Range of Performance-Focused Golfers

Honma, one of golf’s most prestigious and enduring equipment brands, continues to make a decisive statement to the North American market with its TR20 (“Tour Release 2020”) iron line. Known globally for beautifully-crafted, versatile and playable equipment, Honma’s approach with its new TR20 V and TR20 P iron sets is to provide serious players the look, set-up, feel and performance they have come to trust and expect in a players, and players distance, iron.

Both the TR20 P and V irons showcase modern player-preferred profiles with sleek lines and shaping, and are built to be fast and forgiving so that golfers can achieve desirable distance and accuracy– even on misses. Reviewers on Golf Digest’s 2020 Hot List panel had this to say about this innovative line:

“These are hot. Trajectory penetrates the wind. My mis-hits weren’t penalized too badly, either.”

“These are already long, but I love that I could swing harder and they'd go a whole iron longer.”

“The sound was one of speed. The ball was motoring.”

In GOLF’s Club Test 2020, a tester said:

“Working this one both directions was no problem. Buttery feel is what you’d expect from something that looks this good.”

“It’s no surprise that discerning players who prefer reliable performance and uncompromised feel of a players iron are enjoying testing the TR20 P and TR 20 V,” said Honma’s President John Kawaja. “Our Carlsbad-based team has had a hand in delivering golfers many of the most proven and iconic iron designs of the past 20 years for other prestigious OEMs. The work they’re doing here at Honma is a brilliant culmination of industry-leading experience, relentless creativity and cutting-edge ingenuity and design.”

THE GOODS: TR20 P TR20 P is a players distance iron that incorporates game improvement-like playability with beautifully-crafted performance with hand-shaped profiles and tour-caliber response. An S35C forged steel body and thin L-cup face help generate ball speed. A generous sole width and tungsten-weighted pocket cavity (the P in TR20 P stands for Pocket) on the rear of the club head help create speed-enhancing forgiveness. The pocket cavity puts weight around the perimeter of the iron, not just in the heel and toe, but also in the back of the club head. It literally creates a pocket of perimeter weighting. “The 3D pocket cavity allows us to create a strong lofted iron that launches fast and high without excess spin” McGinley said.

The low center of gravity, created by the optimized position (heel-to-toe and front-to-back) of the high-density tungsten weight, promotes higher MOI, higher launch and longer carry distance. Honma’s experienced Takumi combine a traditional blade shape with modern topline and sole proportions and high-performance back designs to pack versatile playability into the TR20 P.

“The blade length on the TR20 P is small enough to be accepted by a tour pro, but large enough to be forgiving and market-playable,” said Honma Vice President of Global Product Chris McGinley. “We used CAD to position the tungsten weight in the ideal spot to create speed on both on- and off-center hits as well as the right amount of launch for the TR 20 P’s strong lofts. This iron hits a wide target audience from competitive golfers and low handicaps, all the way up to mid-teen handicaps.”

THE GOODS: TR20 V The TR20V is a true players iron that delivers impressive distance. Showing off a handsome, traditional one-piece cavity back head design, the TR20 V is forged from soft S20C carbon steel and helps launch shots quick and high, but with control. It features a slightly shorter blade length and thin topline that better golfers prefer, as well as a recessed electroform Honma mole logo in the cavity as a nod to the great forged irons of the company’s past. The TR20 V’s sole is wide enough to promote desirable launch with enhanced camber for crisp turf interaction.

The responsive feel in the TR20 V comes from the combination of material, construction and design. S20C carbon steel delivers preferred feel, while the blade size, shape and cavity design- including the ideal combination of face thickness and perimeter weighting- create the soft, but solid, feel.

“The TR20 V also has players distance lofts, which are one degree weaker than on the TR20 P. This is a really goodtraditional forged cavity iron,” said McGinley. “A slightly narrower sole width helps yield good overall playability. It’s an ideal iron for competitive golfers and low handicaps, yet suitable for higher single-digit handicaps, as well.”

A COMMON LANGUAGE The common design language between the TR20 V and TR20 P irons allows golfers to consider a combination set with familiar profiles. Combined set configurations with TR20P in the mid/long and TR20V in the mid/short irons are becoming popular with Honma customers. “In both iron sets, the confluence of Honma hand-crafted looks with tour level performance, modern constructions and expert designs provide the sound and feel that golfers will love,” said Chris McGinley. “In Honma Experience fittings, we’re seeing a lot of golfers opting for a blended set of TR20 P and TR 20 V for optimal feel, trust and performance.”

Honma TR20P and TR20V are available with VIZARD TR20-85 graphite and Nippon Modus 105 shafts as a standard option. VIZARD TR20 shafts are designed with a stiffer tip section for trajectory control and are built with ascending weight to increase speed with longer irons and increase control with shorter irons. One other commonality to both irons: The counter taper grip reduces tension in the lower hand while sporting a new soft-feeling compound. An additional set of TR20 irons called TR20B, a classic blade-style iron for skilled players, will be launching in the coming weeks.

TR 20 P and TR 20 V irons ($199.99/club with graphite shaft, $174.99/steel) are now available in stores and online as well as by appointment at a Honma Mobile Experience custom fitter.

For more information about Honma Golf visit: https://us.honmagolf.com.

About Honma Golf Honma is one of the most prestigious and iconic brands in the golf industry. Founded in 1959, the Company utilizes the latest innovative technologies and traditional Japanese craftsmanship to provide golfers across the globe with premium, high-tech and top-performing golf clubs with state-of-the-art heads and proprietary shafts built by master artisans to perform together holistically. Renowned for creating the world’s highest quality and most beautiful golf clubs, Honma offers equipment (including balls, apparel and accessories) to fit all golfers, with the families aligned to suit the preferences and abilities of various segments of golfers: the world-renowned luxury BERES series and the Tour-validated T//World line, which includes the new game improvement XP- 1 line and the new Tour-inspired TR20 series.

The premium golf club manufacturer and lifestyle brand was founded inside a small Yokohama workshop six decades ago and now holistically designs all products in Sakata, Japan. Honma operates as the only company that handles every step from design to final production in-house to create the highest-quality products on the market today. Honma's products are sold in approximately 50 countries worldwide, primarily in Asia and across North America, Europe and other regions. To learn more, visit www.HonmaGolf.com.

[ladyvegeets]

T.I.T.A.N. - 01

- 1 Gooseflesh Skin - 

The entire dock was flooded with people, every last head craned up to take in the massive scale of the new spaceship. Everyone except Vegeta. Where others ogled and marveled the F.F. TITAN, singing its praises in awed tones, Vegeta kept his eyes forward and struggled to keep down the black stone of helplessness that rolled in his belly. This was no ship of dreams, but a slave ship taking him home in chains.

Outwardly, he was everything a titan recruit should be: strong, proud, composed. But inside, he was screaming.

The Lord Commander, Frieza, was ahead of him, walking up the gangway to board his new vessel. Though small in stature, the commander was oppressive in presence. Vegeta could feel the weight of his malevolence even across the dock. His father was making a valiant attempt at small talk, a wasted effort given Frieza was far more interested in soaking up the adoration of the crowd than listening to anything a king from a trifling planet had to say. As usual, neither were paying him any attention. They didn’t care or even notice him. He was merely an accessory to this arrangement, the punctuation point of his own indentured sentence.

It struck Vegeta that he could easily slip back into the crowd and disappear before anyone had the chance to discover he was gone.

Unconsciously, his feet slowed.

“What’s the hold up, Vegeta?” The slimy dulcet tones came from Frieza’s right hand man, Zarbon, the last voice he wanted to hear while flirting with the notion of escape. “I understand your stunted stature makes walking difficult, but if you could find it within yourself to trot along inside, I can have a nurse fetch you a hover chair.”

Vegeta’s fists clenched at the humiliating suggestion, but he swallowed back his pride, refusing to rise to the bait. “Forgive me, Titan, I was appreciating the craftsmanship of the ship and became distracted.” It was a good a lie as any.

Zarbon stepped up next to him. He was much taller than Vegeta, wearing ornate dress armor that left his hand and face tattoos proudly on display. The titan looked up at the vessel they were about to board. “Yes, it is impressive, isn’t it? An indestructible ship for an indomitable Lord. I hear they employed the finest minds in the galaxy for its construction.” He looked down at Vegeta, a nasty twinkle in his unnerving eyes. “No one from planet Vegeta, though. But then your kind have never been very bright, have they?”

Vegeta felt the lancing insult cut through him. Back home, such a remark would have been rectified in blood. Here he had to suffer it. “Our talents lie elsewhere,” he growled, his tone barely acceptable for addressing a superior. 

Zarbon smiled, amused to see the Saiyan struggle at reigning in his temper. He held out a hand towards the threshold of the ship. “After you, little prince. Wouldn’t want you getting lost, would we? That would reflect rather poorly on your father.”

Vegeta felt the bitter truth of that burn in his mouth, and he stepped inside the ship. As the door slid shut behind them, so too were his fancies of freedom closed to him forever.

~xox~

Bulma held the holographic tablet in her hand and pretended to be doing a series of last-minute checks on the cargo-hold. In truth, she wasn’t supposed to be here. Despite her conniving and flirting, she hadn’t been able to convince the right people to get her on TITAN’s crew staff for its maiden voyage — apparently her transient background put a crimp in their rigorous screening process. She had left Earth at a tender age with a thirst for adventure and little else. Upon discovering intelligent life — and a lot of  incredible technology — she jumped from space station to moon to planet until, years later, she eventually caught wind of the most ambitious spaceship project to date. There was no way that was going to happen without her throwing her hat into the mix. The chance to be arms-deep in the most sophisticated technology the galaxy had to offer was too good an opportunity to pass up.

But as the project started wearing down, her future grew uncertain. She was told at every corner that she was not wanted once the ship was completed. But like hell she was going to let that stop her. She had helped design and build the F.F. TITAN. She knew every corner and circuit board and system program of the whole damn ship. It took barely a few hours to come up with a plan, a few days to implement it. Stealing a pair of crew overalls and sneaking aboard hadn’t exactly been rocket science (of which she was also quite skilled in). All she had to do now was lay low until the ship broke the atmosphere and it would be easy-street from here on out.

A couple titans marched by; they were easy to spot with their telltale armor, facial tattoos, and unnerving eyes. Bulma kept her face lowered over the cargo dossier, doing her best to be inconspicuous. Titans gave her the creeps, and not only for their fearsome reputation on the battlefield. There was something… off about them. Just a little too arrogant and a little too obedient. Not to mention their eyes; the light didn’t reach them. It probably had to do with the tattoo process they underwent which turned the sclera — the white part of the eyes in humans — black. When a titan looked at you it was like being eyeballed by a shark, and just as potentially dangerous. It was deeply unsettling.

Thankfully these titans had better things to be do than concern themselves about her, the largest of them curling a nasty-looking whip about his tattooed fist. When they were gone, Bulma checked the area one last time before closing her tablet and slipping inside the maintenance room. On the far wall was a hidden door she had installed. She slipped inside to a little room she had built, complete with a bed roll and some supplies. She laid out on her bed and turned her tablet back on, scrolling through the influx of information from the ship’s start up logs — yes, she had hacked into the ship’s computers, what of it? — and got settled in. It wasn’t a big or glamorous space, but hey, it was free. What more could a stowaway ask for?

~xox~

Vegeta let the dinner conversation wash over him. It was hard to concentrate, not only because the topic held little interest for him but because his body was screaming. He was positive the wounds on his back had split and were freshly bleeding. Luckily he had thought to wear his cape to hide any stains. Still, just the act of sitting straight in a chair was agonizing. He refused to let it show, refused to give any of these bastards the satisfaction.

As soon as the TITAN had taken off, he was sent to meet his soon-to-be fellow titans. He suspected it wouldn’t be pleasant. Even prepared for a hazing, he never anticipated they would whip him, one lash for every titan ‘sibling’ he would gain. Something about ‘sharing the burden of responsibility’, ‘bearing your brothers and sisters on your back’, ‘rights of passage’… blah blah fucking blah. He stopped listening after the first few lashes bit right through cloth and muscle and began exposing bone, blood dripping down his back and filling his mouth as he bit his cheeks to keep from screaming.

He lost track of how many lashes he earned. Frieza had a lot of titans.

His Saiyan genetics meant he had healed — at least enough — to make dinner. He sure as hell wasn’t going to lie in a hospital bed and let rumors of weakness spread about him or his people. Whatever these assholes wanted to throw his way, he would take it. He had to, for his own pride and the pride of his people. It was his duty, or so his father kept insisting. “We need this treaty, my son. Our society won’t survive without the technology of the empire.”

Food was put before him, but his usual vigorous appetite was lacking. “Care for some wine, Vegeta? You look rather peaked,” Zarbon drawled, knowing full well why Vegeta was pale. His lashes had been some of the cruelest to bear.

“I do not partake,” he replied curtly, forcing himself to stab at his dinner so as not to appear weak. “It dulls the senses.” He shoved the forkful of food into his mouth and forced himself to swallow.

Frieza laughed airily from the head of the table. “Oh ho ho, your boy is disciplined, I’ll give you that, King Vegeta,” he complimented. “I do appreciate that quality in my titans.”

“I think you’ll find my son to be a fine addition to your ranks,” the king promised. “He is the most accomplished among our people, and at such a young age.”

Frieza’s eyes narrowed. “So you keep telling me. I grow bored of hearing it.”

“Ah… Yes. Well then, Lord Commander, I’m curious. The name of this vessel. Was it inspired by your elite force?” the king hastened to change the subject.

Frieza leaned back in his chair, swilling his wine about in his glass. “Yes. I am ever so proud of my titans, so what better name for my new ship, wouldn’t you agree?” His lips curled in a dark smile. He didn’t wait for a reply. No one would dare to disagree. “And I quite liked how the name encapsulates the sheer magnitude of its size too.”

“One would think you have an unnatural preoccupation with size,” Vegeta grumbled under his breath as the others at the table voiced their agreement. 

A sharp elbow jabbed him in the side. He winced, more from the wounds on his back than anything else, and looked to his right. His father was glaring murder at him. “Remember your place, boy,” the king hissed furiously, casting Frieza a furtive look to make sure the commander hadn’t overheard the insulting remark.

Vegeta thinned his lips and kept his mouth shut for the rest of the meal. By the time dinner was over he was feeling extremely poor, his back on fire and his face sweating. He must have overestimated his healing, or underestimated the severity of his lashes. Either way, he excused himself before he passed out on his plate or threw up what little he had eaten, and headed for the observation deck to get what counted as ‘fresh air’.

~xox~

The observation deck was situated near the front of the vessel and domed by a large glass bubble that protected the onlookers from the vacuum of space while also allowing for a spectacular view of the galaxy.

Bulma lay sprawled on a bench on the lower deck. The view wasn’t quite as good but it was unoccupied and close to an exit in case security came by and she needed to duck out. The stars she could see were breathtaking. She would never grow tired of looking at them. Any time she grew homesick she just looked up into space and considered all the unexplored planets, technology, and adventures there were awaiting her, and she would be motivated to push on.

She heard footsteps. Turning her head to the upper deck, a man in armor approached the railing. Bulma hitched a brow at the sight of him — human? Wait, no… not quite. Was that a tail around his waist? And something about the hair seemed a little unnatural by Earth standards. Still, it was kind of nice to see someone human-ish. Not bad looking, either. The only detractor were a couple tattoos around his eyes. Titan markings, though far fewer than she was used to seeing. And no all-black eyes. Interesting.

Her curiosity piqued, Bulma found herself staring. Though the man’s armor appeared battle-functional, his red cape was less so, the marking of someone important. Most intriguingly of all, it wasn’t titan-standard issue. Neither were the gloves that hid his hands which now dangled over the railing. Who and what was he? A dignitary perhaps? He certainly held himself with importance, even managing to lean against the deck in an aristocratic manner. The man was an enigma.

His sixth sense must have been tripped, for his eyes turned and locked directly onto her. For a moment they stared at each other from across the divide of the decks as stars were born and burned out and died around them. Nothing was said, no smile or nods exchanged. There was just this moment, this raw fleeting moment where they recognized the existence of the other, and were seen in turn.

Then another approached the railing. This alien Bulma did know.

The Lord Commander.

You didn’t get far in the galaxy without quickly learning who Frieza was.

The diminutive lizard-like alien approached the other man, his tail whipping slowly back and forth in his wake. He placed his claw-like fingers on the man’s shoulder and leaned in, whispering something that Bulma couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, it caused the man at the railing to pale. Frieza’s fingers tightened and the man’s cheek twitched, struggling to keep the pain from his face — but she saw.

Then Frieza threw back his head and laughed, the sound carrying all the way to her on the lower deck. He walked off, leaving the man sweating and alone. He stood frozen for several minutes before he came back to himself. Consciously or not, his eyes sought hers out, but something in his expression had changed. The light in his eyes was gone. It was like staring into the eyes of a dead man.

Her skin broke out into gooseflesh.

He turned and left the deck. Haunted by what she had seen, Bulma decided to do the same and retreated back to her hidden room.

~xoXox~

AN: Written for The Prince and The Heiress’ 2019 Smutfest. Find them on discord or reddit or twitter. I know this is a smutfest, but this one’s gonna be a slow burn, sorry guys.

Based on a little known movie, not sure if you’ve heard of it, called Titanic by James Cameron. Movie buffs will notice that I’ve used a couple quotes from the film — though modified to fit the narrative. 

DBZ characters are, obviously, Toriyama’s creations.

[dearingtodream]

September is cultivation season

I want to start cultivating my language skills by taking mandarin lessons.

I want to start cultivating my royal character by going to therapy and learning to forgive and let go; as well as living true to myself and not as reparation or response to generational trauma.

I want to start cultivating my love for the world and my positive leadership on it ( as part of my royal character ) by opening up and getting out of my shell of proudness and self-righteousness. I will do this by learning about todays society, innovation and technology, where the world is and where it is going. Appreciating and loving the world rather than hiding from it. Through therapy ( previous point) I will heal my wounds and I will start to see the opportunity of being alive today and here as a privilege and I will find ways to start participating and being part of it.

I want to start cultivating a healthy beautiful relationship with myself ( as living in this world today and now is a privilege. Being me is also a privilege, a gift) I will do this by trying new things without guilt, shame or worry. At my 24 years old. I will start dance academy. It is also a great way to create community. ( to live here and now)

I want to start cultivating my service. As the daughter of the kings of kings, my royalty is not worldly but heavenly and it is mark by a distinct trait, t o s e r v e rather than to be served. So I want to train this quality/virtue/principle.

By first, helping those I can in my family, friends and community.

Secondly by, finding what I am good at and developing those talents/abilities/ traits to the best I can to put it to the service of others. ( In this case, I will start by researching about NGO management)

6. Finally and must important, I will cultivate beauty in, out and around me, by:

Firstly, deepening my Christian faith. For it’s the center of my identity as a royalty woman. At the moment I am going through a season of high seas and high winds. I am being processed and transform into who He said I am.

(And, as part of cultivating a beautiful relationship with myself) I will be also writing my first heirloom book recording all the knowledge about womb health that I have been and continue to study. I will heal not only my psych (through therapy ) but also my body so that my daughters are sovereign over their bodies. And live knowing their power.

“Women are co-creators with God, we must stop acting like anything else.”

Secondly, this will be reflected in cultivating a beautiful image to present to the world. I have defined my own style and aesthetic, royalty princess. No more of following trends, more like setting them.

Thirdly, I will be cultivating beauty around me since now by being of service, kindness, a light to others. One day I will do this by having my own home and family. A beautiful legacy of healed people that will change the world around them. As well as the acts of service that will turn into philanthropy (schools and hospitals)

This month, I start cultivating a lifetime journey/work, one for the ages. One for generations. A legacy. Something to show God when he asks me what did I do with the gift of life.

What will you start to cultivate this September ?

Cultivate everything in your life the way you would a garden. Slowly, day by day, with patience, mindfulness and diligence.

[mainslists]

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[weirdgirl-14]

an ask

In Hindsight, I could have made it fancier as to, “Send me this interesting thing and I’ll reply with this!”  Nonetheless, here we go~

You Are A Great Because: 

1.  Straight up, Great personality all around.  Intelligent, nice, and hard working.  You have a lot of talent and you practice a lot.  I admire how you keep practicing Languages and wanting to Learn More and you keep at it with your hobbies and just the things you enjoy in general. The way you Enjoy the things you enjoy is great--- fandoms, hobbies, etc.  Idk if that sounds weird or like, “How can I be good at enjoying the things that I enjoy?”  I don’t know how to explain it, but it makes sense in my head.

2.  You’re fun to be around.

3.  Your Humor is A+++

4. Following your blog is great because it’s Top Quality Content

5.  You Organization Skills And Technology Abilities and Social Media stuff are Astounding. 

6. You always help me with Math-- and just my Dyslexic Butt in General.

7. You always help me with Concepts of Time and Distance

8.  You always Help me just....Remember Chit when I can’t

9.  You are Team Player

10.  You’re Patient and Forgiving.  These traits are not easy to practices at the worse of times or at the most stressful, but I’ve seen you always do your best and always done good at this and I appreciate that.  

11. You’re Understanding

12. You always try your best and your best is great

13.  You are Strong Person

14. You’ve Grown A Lot

15. You’re a Huge Heckin’ Nerd--- but, no, really.  Other than calling you a nerd and geek--- like, I admire how you like to know things and help others understand things, too.

16. You are great at Selfies and you always Look Nice no matter What.  You could roll out of bed and look good.  I admire this because I don’t know how to take a good selfie to save my life.  That is what you call a #Skill.  You also have great Aesthetic

17.  You’re Friendly.  You’re a Great friend to Everyone-- you always try to be welcoming and try not to leave others out.  You’re always there for others.

18.  Your ability to read my Micro-Expressions (That aren’t really that Micro) cracks me up and the way you say, like, “Anna,” or “Hannah,” or “God” or like, those little word Expressions when we’re being eccentric, or did a dumb thing, or we’re all about to make a terrible decision as Ohana in DND are Great and always brighten my Day.  

19.  You’re just genuinely helpful and kind to others and you.

20.   You’re an exceptional writer.  I know I haven’t seen a lot of your things, but the things that I have seen are, like, Top Quality.  Experienced Writer to Experienced Writer--- your stuff is good.  Your writing makes me happy.  Especially, like, being able to write short stories?  And they’re good??  I hope you know that’s a skill that not a lot of people can do well as a writer--- and, like, homie, you’re great at it!  

Hope this is all Good--- I don’t know how much actually overlaps but? These sorta make sense to me.  I’m probably a corny dork---- I’m a huge freakin’ Hippy, so..... “Live, Laugh Love” vibes and chit.   Anyways--- These some of the reasons why you’re great.  They’re not all of them, but these are 20 Reasons.