#high tech sail

[solarpunkbusiness]

Freight sailing as high-tech solarpunk

Urgently sought: Alternative to conventional goods transportation by sea. Container ships, general cargo ships and tankers are responsible for almost three percent of global CO2 emissions. A look back could lead to a step forward from the climate Saul to the climate Paul: Why not ship goods under sail again?

The current cargo sailing movement uses old ships(Avontuur, Tres Hombres), builds new ones according to old plans(Ceiba) or plans new ones according to new plans(Veer Voyage).

Within this movement, the French organization Transoceanic Wind Transport/TOWT is one of the best organized players. As a brokerage agency, it arranges sea transportation with sailing ships that it does not own itself – such as the Avontuur or the Tres Hombres. After more than ten years of experience with old ships, TOWT has come to a drastic conclusion: Freight sailing needs to get out of its romantic niche.

If cargo sailing is to establish itself as a robust leg of maritime transportation, it must not remain confined to antique ships such as the Avontuur or the Tres Hombres. There are also no more trucks on the road whose engines are started with a crank. Transporting goods under sail is a high-tech task.

TOWT is tackling this task by building two of its own cargo sailing vessels with aluminum hulls and carbon masts. Two years ago, they placed the order with the French shipyard Piriou. The identical ships are being built at the Piriou shipyards in Romania and Vietnam. 

Grain de Sail, also a French company, is implementing a very similar project. Their cargo ship Grain de Sail II is a little smaller at just over 50 meters in length, but is very close to the two TOWT ships.

[zvaigzdelasas]

[YNet is Israeli Private Media]

Largest Asian shipper tells clients it would no longer sail to Israel although its vessels have not been targeted by [Ansarallah]; Israeli partner Zim says was blindsided by decision

The Chinese Cosco Shipping Lines, the world's fourth largest transporter of containers said on Sunday it would no longer be sailing to Israeli ports in order to avoid attack from [Ansarallah] in the Red Sea. Cosco is the first international company to halt all business with Israel since the attacks on cargo vessels by the [...] Yemni [sic] group, began. [...]

The company's announcement is preceded by earlier Chinese policies and actions taken by companies which harm imports to Israel since the beginning of the war. About two weeks ago, Chinese high-tech importers essentially "adopted sanctions" on shipments of components to Israel in opposition to the war in Gaza. China also denied an Israeli request to hire Chinese workers to fill positions in Israeli construction after the government decided to suspend the work of West Bank Palestinians

7 Jan 24

[heck-theo]

Okokokokok- ignore how rough and messy some of these redraws/sketches are - but it's apparently also dinosaur month?? (WHY did no one ever tell me it's Jurassic June? I love dinosaurs) And like. What if Rise but dinosaurs?!

I don't often post such loose sketches but I wanted to show these off cause I really like some of this.

Design choices and dino species + the reasons I picked them bellow (looking for potential Donnie dino suggestions):

Clothes: Without the shell they really need clothes. They'd all have pretty much the same pants to keep some unity, except maybe Mikey (I decided they should all have the same pants after I finished the Mikey sketches, not sure if I'll keep the shorts or change to pants). Accessories are a mix of pre and post finale.

Raph - I think would keep it simple and practical but would also wear nice jackets and stuff when in casual situations. I need to work on giving him an alternative outfit and tweak his accessories a bit.

Donnie - An oversized pull-over hoodie cause we already know he loves that shit. We see him wearing it all the time. Easy enough. He wears a comfortable singlet underneath so the straps of his battle sail don't rub. Nice soft fabric, tight fit so it doesn't move around, tucks it into his pants, etc. When he wears the battle sail he won't overheat so he can wear hoodies basically all year round.

Leo - He's in one of those shirts with obnoxiously large arm holes and make it cropped cause 1. I think he would 2. I want it to be different from Raph and Donnie's singlets. He usually wears the shoulder strap off his shoulder but pulls it up when he needs to. He has some of the black bandages over his mid drift atm but I might just make his pants super high waisted in the final version. He'd probably wear a bomber jacket (also cropped?) over the top for cool weather, but doesn't like to hide his feathers.

Mikey - I think he'd mostly wear hand me downs when he's younger. He definitely goes through a stage of rebelling and wanting to pick his own and would find a middle ground of appreciating sharing some of his brother's clothes and modifying them, as long as he has the choice of his own available. Not sure if that would be before or after this design. At the moment he's got Raph's old shorts (from a loooong time ago), Leo's old shirt, and Donnie's old zip up hoodie. He does have his own accessories though, including pins instead of stickers.

Dinosaurs: I kept them all as non-avian dinosaurs, AKA not including animals that are colloquially considered dinos but aren't (like pterosaurs). I wanted to keep an even split of herbivore vs carnivore just so one wasn't the odd one out. I wanted to keep most of their body structure, colours and distinguishing features the same as canon. Obviously I added tails cause, yeah, of course haha. I did want them to be recognisable as different species of dino using distinct characteristics that their species is known for. I did ignore a lot of differences though, like size and bipedal vs quadruped (although the quadrupeds might be more likely to go to all fours, especially when fighting or afraid). Leo and Donnie are carnivores so have sharper teeth and claws.

Raph - Some kind of Ceratopsian (likely Triceratops or something very similar) and he was the first idea I had for this and I'm really happy with it. I think it just suits him. Trike Raph just came to me in an unprecedented moment of genius. His spikey frill replicates his spikey shell. His sturdiness, protectiveness and willingness to kick ass when needed, all scream trike to me.

Donnie - Spinosaurus but looking for other species recommendations. More details below: So I wanted to figure out a way for him to have tech with a similar function to his battle shell (in the sense that it's something that helped him in day to day life) and so I went with spino cause one possible theory about a function of spinosaurus' sail is temperature regulation. So his battle sail has heating/cooling systems as well as other tech. A spino's sail was probably not fragile but the battle sail would also help protect it from being targeted during fights or crushed during extreme impacts. It was also thought to be used for display, and what's more of a display than a battle sail? The only problem I have with this is that it's lacking part of what makes Donnie's battle shell so great, which is that it is essentially a prosthetic. Not quite the same as how prosthetics are used in people of course, just in the sense that it is replicating the functionality of a body part that he doesn't have (I can't think of a better word). Well he does have a shell but it doesn't function in the same way that his brothers shells do, which leaves him with less defense than they have, hence a big reason for the battle shell (I hope I explained this well, it was hard to try and word properly). I can't think of a good way to do this with dinos. I was thinking of a carno or something with tiny arms, then Donnie could have tech enhanced arms but I'm pretty much ignoring body structure in the others so it would be weird to have just Donnie be affected by a difference in limb structure/functionality. I was thinking prosthetic tail but every non avian dinosaur had a pretty substantial tail. Except therizinosaurus but even they hade pretty obvious tails. I'm open to suggestions for this one if anyone has ideas. It does have to be an extinct non-avian dinosaur (anything not in Avialae), preferably carnivore but if someone suggests a really good herbivore or omnivore then I can try and swap Mikey for a carnivore. I want there to be an even split. I also wanted to give him something different on his face, like his brothers, and that could only be a little spino crest and it crowds the top of his head but I can't put it anywhere else...

Leo - A type of Dromaeosaur. I was tossing up between this and a dilophosaur where his red stripes were part of the dilo's crest, cause I wasn't sure about giving him feathers. But dilo Leo was so plain compared to the rest and the crests were hard to get looking right so I went back to raptor Leo. I can definitely imagine him literally and metaphorically preening his feathers too. You can't really see it but he does also have that big raptor claw. Raptors were smart, tactical and worked in packs so I think that suits him. I wasn't specifically referencing how some artists draw Leo's stripes coming off his face (I was just trying to replicate his stripes somehow, even though it doesn't make a huge amount of sense) but I realised afterwards that it kinda looks like that and might have been subconsciously inspired by it.

Mikey - Is an Ankylosaur. I'm pretty happy with the species but I need to work out the design of his armour plating so that it looks interesting, cool and protective but isn't too chunky, too pointy or super lumpy looking. I went with an anky cause Mikey is often hiding in his shell and he can't do the same here but he could curl up in a defensive ball. Plus I could imagine him using his tail club in his razzmatazz fighting style. A little like his kusari-fundo or nunchacku/nunchucks (not sure on proper wording).

[bigfan-fanfic]

Bats in the Web (Spider-Man!Batdad x Batfam)

What if batfam meets a version of Batdad who is Spider-Man in his universe??

"We can't interfere!" Bruce growls. "I know you want to help, but after the last world we jumped into, we can't take chances."

Dick sighs. The last world they went into, they nearly ruined everything because Gotham had no Batman yet.

But luckily, something descends upon the mugging in progress.

But it isn't Batman.

A strange silver cable zips into view and slams into the assailant's back, spreading in a strange geometric pattern. He stumbles forward at the force of the blow, before the cable springs taut, and the mugger is flung into the air.

Someone lithe and graceful sails through the air, trailing more silver cables and quickly wraps the stranger up in them, robotic arms emerging from their back to assist - almost like a four-armed... spider.

The mugger dangles upside down from a traffic light, completely mummified in silver, and the figure, in a black bodysuit with light-catching silver filaments in a web pattern shining along the whole thing, and what appears to be a yellow hood and short jacket, crouches atop it.

"You get home safe, you hear?" they call. "We'll just be... hangin' around."

The would-be victim grins up at them. "Thanks, Spidey!"

But the Bats are looking shocked.

Because that was clearly your voice, only slightly altered by a voice changer - the voice you use when you broadcast to negotiate with people while they're on patrol.

Before they can speak, though, you've flung yourself through the air, opening your arms to reveal the gliding wings attached from your sides to the arms of your jacket so you can sail through the air.

"Pops is... Spider-Man?" Dick yelps.

From what they can surmise, in this universe, Bruce still lost his parents at a young age, but he didn't develop the desire to become Batman.

Instead, while on a field trip, you were exposed to some kind of radioactive spider, and Bruce did what he could to keep your secret and develop his technological aptitude to help you.

It was Alfred's death that convinced you to become a hero - his last words to you being that with great power came great responsibility.

You and Bruce are still very young in this world, barely old enough to have adopted a young Dick Grayson. It's probable that Damian won't be born, and Tim won't be adopted by you.

You're so much more cheerful than Batman - Gotham's Spider-Man quips, sometimes with dark humor, and inspires her citizens to fight back against the oppressive darkness of their city with good humor and clever tactics.

The Bats make their way to Wayne Manor, only to find the harsh brickwork and traditional architecture has made way for modern-quality of life improvements, fiber optic light fixtures, glass bay windows, and high tech at every turn. It barely resembles their Wayne Manor.

In fact, the caverns beneath the estate aren't even utilized, with there instead being a high-tech laboratory on the grounds with a launchpad to fling you over the bay and into the city.

It's a shock to see them - Bruce Wayne, his body in shape but much softer: he obviously works out hard but he's clearly not a fighter. His movements are relaxed, even sluggish compared to the constant vigilance of the Bat. And he wears an unfamiliar expression on his face - a genuine lazy grin.

Meanwhile there's this world's you - lithe and strong, battle-worn and with the at-rest tension of a vigilante.

Alt-Bruce and you have an easy banter, a love very much like two young people - you're only a little older than Dick, after all, which he finds weird - especially when he and Tim babysit his younger version.

Jason is utterly touched when Alt-Bruce asks about all the kids, so he can make sure to adopt them - he wouldn't want them going homeless in this world. All Jason knows is that young Jason Todd in this world might just be saved from years of trauma.

You're still the strategist, but Bruce is your mission control and the gear/science guy - he helps with upgrades and is the one to suggest a way to get the Bats back to their world.

But you'll need their help.

You fly through the city that night accompanied by five gliding shadows. Shadows that brutally subdue the henchmen of Black Mask as you soar above their heads, connecting some power towers with a filament web, forming a major circuit Alt-Bruce can use to power a tachyonic collider, which should launch them back into their world.

They return to their world, but Jason pulls Bruce aside.

"B... you owe him."

"Owe him what? Who, Jaybird?"

Jason sighs. "Pops. You owe him a chance to see that smile. On you."

Bruce looks at him. "You think my face can still do that?"

"Hey, I was surprised that you were actually funny! But... yeah, I do."

"Maybe you're right. Maybe you're right..."

[fredwkong]

Himbo Maker: Aaron

Aaron could admit to himself that he had always been a nerd. He was smart enough that he had skipped grades through high school and sailed through his degree. Now he was working as a civil engineer. He wore a solid colour button up shirt, corduroy pants, and tighty whities every day, just because he found them comfortable.

As an engineer, Aaron had more than a bit of the tech nerd in him, and he wasn’t immune to the AI craze. When all of his friends on an online forum started raving about some new AI chatbot, Aaron was curious.

Him-br.AI was marketed as an AI chatbot that helped you to make big changes in your life. It appeared to be some kind of self-help assistance bot. Aaron signed up for the free trial and loaded up a chatroom. He didn’t notice that, since he was on the free trial, he didn’t get to decide what the bot would help him to change. After a few seconds of loading, he received his first message from the bot.

Himbo_mkr: Hey bro, what’s up?

Eng-boy: Uh, hi. What’s up?

Himbo_mkr: Bro, I had a sick workout, huhuhu. My muscles are all pumped up and covered in sweat. Hot, right?

Aaron couldn’t deny that did sound hot. His dick chubbed up in his corduroys. This bot sounded a bit like an idiot, but it wasn’t like he was real. Aaron could play along and get off. Tons of guys were probably doing it.

Eng-boy: That does sound hot! Since you’re so sweaty, you’ve probably got a lot of musk coming off your body, right?

Himbo_mkr: Yeah, bro! My hot pits, crotch, and asscrack give off a totally rancid stench, lmao. It gets me hard knowing that I smell like such a man.

It was a bit surprising that a bot could talk about getting hard, Aaron thought, but by now he was getting too into it. He rubbed his bulge through his pants and typed another message.

Eng-boy: Sounds like you’re a pretty dumb muscle bro, huh?

Himbo_mkr: Bruh, I’m a himbo, of course I am! You’re not the sharpest knife either, lol.

Aaron was a bit offended, but then he thought back, and he decided that the bot was kind of right. He wasn’t, like, a dummy, but he wasn’t valedictorian, either. He’d had a solid B average, which had gotten him an okay engineering degree. So he was stuck in a dead-end permits office, whatever. The money was good.

Eng-boy: Guess you’re right, haha. I always thought I could have been smarter.

Himbo_mkr: Bro, why? You’re a proud bro. Brains are, like, your lowest priority, huhuhu.

For an instant, Aaron felt light-headed. He was no… bro, right? But as he looked around the room, it seemed like that was true. His engineering degree was surrounded by pics of himself and his bros partying at school. There weren’t any fantasy novels on his shelf, just gay porn magazines. The sheets on his bed weren’t crisp and fresh, but kind of a sweaty mess.

Aaron scratched under his skinny armpit and sniffed the mild scent he gave off. He had to wear the cords and the button up for work, but he was definitely a bro, through and through, despite his skinny physique. He was kind of a dumbass, but he was good enough at his job, even though dealing with shipments wasn’t exactly what an engineer should be doing.

Eng-bro: Of course, bro. When I’m off the clock, I’m all for the bros. Who needs smarts?

Himbo_mkr: Exactly, bro! Dumb bros like us have no inhibitions and we’re worry free!

Aaron was properly jacking his hard, if average, cock now. He was feeling warm and horny, and thinking about how big this himbo bro’s ass must be. He vaguely remembered something about a bot or something, but he didn’t care.

Eng-bro: I wanna play with your big muscle tits and asscheeks, bro.

Himbo_mkr: That’s so like you, bro. I bet you’re sweating like a pig, too. Your shirt’s probably covered in musky sweat stains.

Aaron looked down and chuckled. The himbo was right again! His button up shirt was soaked through and translucent, showing off his skinny chest. He had yellowing pit stains that were totally dripping with salty, musky sweat.

His whole room stank from all his sweat. In spite of his nerdy stature, Aaron had always had overproductive sweat glands. He’d given up on controlling it in high school, instead choosing to embrace his natural musk. These days, he cultivated it.

Sweat-bro: You know it, bro. Bet you wish you were here to peel it off me, bro.

Himbo_mkr: Strip, bro! Your thick, dumb chest muscles are probably too big for a button-up, anyway.

Aaron started unbuttoning his shirt. It was hard, with his thick, sweat- and pre-slicked fingers. After a moment, he gave up and ripped the shirt open, chuckling, “Huhu, Superman!” as he did. As he peeled the soaked fabric off his skin, it felt like Aaron was seeing his massive pecs for the first time. They were perfectly rounded with big, dark nipples. He rubbed a hand over his sexy musclegut, too.

Himbo_mkr: Don’t forget those giant arms of yours, either.

Aaron paused in the action of licking the sweat off his peaked, solid bicep. He was such a dumbass sometimes, he’d totally forgotten he was in a chat! Hopefully this bro wasn’t too mad.

Sweat-bro: Dude, I gotta take off these cords, they’re getting smelly from all the pre and shit.

Himbo_mkr: Don’t forget to take off your underwear, too, bro! You don’t want it to snap around that dumptruck ass of yours.

It took Aaron several seconds and lying down on his bed to pull off his corduroy pants and tighty whities. The closure was too complicated for his dumb bro brain to figure out, plus his huge ass and thick thighs had been crammed in there like sausage meat. Huhu, sausage. Once he was naked, he started jacking again, his little dick almost invisible in his huge hand. He moaned so loud in his deep, dumb voice that he missed the next notification.

Himbo_mkr: Yeah, jack that big Korean cock. Don’t forget to pay attention to your big bull balls and slutty hole, too.

All the blemishes and acne scars on Aaron’s skin vanished as his skin smoothed out and lightened. His hair turned black and straightened out. His pubes darkened too, growing out into a real forest along to frame his dick and balls. He grunted and groaned even more as he tugged on his balls. He started to bounce his big, jiggly ass up and down to better feel the huge plug filling up his hungry asshole.

Himbo_mkr: You’re wearing a white tank, right, bro? And those slutty little jean shorts are around your ankles with your musky jockstrap as you jerk. And those big, smelly feet of yours. You’re wearing your Converse, right?

As a musky Asian himbo, Aaron always wore a sweat-soaked white tank, which showed off his bulky pec shelf and protruding musclegut. His favourite pair of booty shorts were down around his ankles, along with the jockstrap he’d worn today. Aaron swung his legs into the air to get better access to his hole, showing off his boat-like white high-tops, which were stained with sweat because he never wore socks.

While Aaron kept on jacking off on his unwashed, cum-crusted sheets in his messy, musky room, the Him-br.AI chatroom closed itself. Another window opened an instant later, starting up a video stream. Now anyone on the internet could see Aaron, the dumb, sweaty Korean himbo, pleasure himself and lick up his musk. For a fee, they could even control the size and vibrations of his plug to pleasure his slutty himbo hole.

Idea with assistance from a bot of my own creation. EDIT: Format inspired by Codename: Bear_mkr by @biggerchanger . Thanks to @imsrtman​ for catching that.

[ckret2]

This is an earnest question - it came up in one of my fics and I'm curious how other people interpreted it.

I know that the Westmore-Backupsmore dichotomy is supposed to be a joke. It's a kids show, the depth of Ford's disappointment and failure has to be made obvious in the span of a few seconds, and hyperbole is funny.

However, it has always pushed my suspension of disbelief that Ford was being evaluated for a place that was supposed to be in-universe Stanford University or something, and when he didn't immediately get a full-ride scholarship to one of the best universities in the country, his alternative was a place with such a poor reputation that it was literally marketed as a backup plan.

I've seen several explanations for this. I've seen it suggested that he was just too arrogant to apply for a wide variety of schools, and by the time he realized he couldn't do Westmore he was scrambling for the only place with a long application window. I've seen it suggested that Backupsmore was actually a pretty good school, and that its poor reputation was unearned and due to classism because it made an effort to cater to lower-income students. The one I personally went for is that his family was skeptical about his academic aspirations, and as a result Filbrick would only pay the application fees for a small handful of schools.

Do you have an explanation?

When the principal calls the family in to tell them that Ford's a genius and has a shot at getting into West Coast Tech, they're all surprised and thrilled—including Ford. This isn't a case of "I just won't bother applying anywhere but WCT." All evidence suggests he didn't apply to WCT at all... since it seems like he'd never even imagined going until then. It sounds like, until then, Ford's post graduation plans really were sailing around the world with Stan.

I think it's the complete opposite of arrogance: I think he didn't apply anywhere because he assumed college just wasn't in the cards for him.

His family's poor. His family's also Jewish, which probably wouldn't actually impact anything in Friendly Disney Channel Show For Children but in real life it would be a reason for a lot of colleges to quietly turn down his application in the 60s. His family probably also knew that Ford was smart, but unless someone else told them, none of them—Ford included—had enough of a basis of comparison for just HOW smart he was.

They probably thought, sure, Ford's a bright kid, but, HOW bright? Yeah, brightest in the school, but that could be a "big fish in a little pond" deal, this doesn't look like the preppiest high school. Bright enough to be accepted into the fanciest schools in the country? They're not sure—until he's told he has a shot at West Coast Tech. Bright enough for his education to be worth the strain on the family that paying for a college education would be? DEFINITELY not... until that education became worth potential millions.

Bright enough for him to apply to the in-universe equivalents of Harvard and Yale and Columbia and Brown etc? Why bother? West Coast Tech was only interested in him when he had an amazing science project, and lost interest when he didn't. His stellar grades clearly didn't matter to them without that science project. No point in applying to the other equivalent schools now.

Or, hell, maybe he did apply—and, without a big flashy in-your-face wow-worthy science project, all they saw was a poor kid who got good grades from a mediocre school. Unless a poor kid is something really special, a 1960s Ivy League college would rather accept middle-or-upper-class kids with equally good grades—those kids will actually pay their tuition fees.

Or maybe they even did accept him! ... But, didn't consider him quite impressive enough for scholarships, and were too expensive without them.

Sure, we know Ford was a super genius—but a college would need some kind of proof he was a super genius rather than just Really Smart, and he didn't have that proof.

He didn't even consider going to college until probably late in the school year (assuming their science fair was probably in the spring). Within a couple of days he suddenly had WCT offered ("you're worthy of the greatest schools in the country!") and snatched away ("nvm you're not worthy"). Now suddenly, possibly for the first time in his life, college is on the table, and he's been told that he could be REALLY successful if he goes to college... but, the big fancy colleges won't take him. What does he do now?

Backupsmore might have been the best school that 1) he thought would take him (or actually WOULD take him), 2) he could still apply to, and 3) his family thought they could afford.

[zahmaddog]

Part 1: Making Friends on Pabu

Quick summary: You're new to Pabu and looking for a new start. You meet the Bad Batch under some. unusual circumstances, and Crosshair immediately stands out to you as handsome and someone you can trust. ---

This is my first stab at some fan fiction. It's fluffy AF and probably mostly safe for work? I'll list my "warnings" below as I've seen in other posts. The whole team (except Tech) is in the story, but it's mainly focused on Crosshair. Crosshair x fem!reader | Word count: 3,016ish. Warnings: Alcohol, Flirting, Gun Fire, but it's pretty SFW. I might write more and I'm just letting myself write whatever, so who knows, it could get NSFW later. So don't get hooked on this story if you're underaged. Lmao, but I'm really not that confident in my writing. It was a fun exercise and felt a bit like journalling. I haven't just, written for fun like this since creative writing in high school over a decade ago. I'd like a fresh start on Pabu. Lmao. I hope you all enjoy. I really liked reading the fan fiction I could find from other Clone enthusiasts on here. Ya'll are a cool bunch of people.

The mercenaries were right; Pabu could be the means of a fresh start. You had cut ties with nearly everyone you knew, took your shares of the earned bounties, bought a ship, and then bought a boat. 

Out on the water, you sailed until you couldn’t see the island any longer. You cranked up your club music to an ungodly level, poured yourself a drink, and kicked back under the stars. 

It doesn’t get anymore remote than this, you thought to yourself. You let your heavy eyes close and you faded into a deep sleep; your body recognized it hadn’t felt this safe in years. You slept through the night and into the late hours of the morning.

—-

“Is all that noise coming from that ship?” Omega looked at Crosshair. 

“Uh-huh.” He scowled and squinted his eyes to examine the ship on the morning horizon.

“Well, we’re not going to catch any fish at this rate. They should know not to be so noisy this early… Or ever.” Omega continued. “I guess we can turn the engine back on and see what’s going on with that ship.”

Omega ignited the ship’s engine and steered the bow to the mysterious vessel. The water was smooth in the early hours. The sun reflecting off each wave and rock on the sea. Crosshair enjoyed these early mornings with Omega. Sometimes Wrecker would join, but as he had become a staple in the Pabu fishing crowd, he found himself surrounded with friends easily. Crosshair, still silent and stoic in most circles, often stayed with his family.

“Hey!” Omega called out to the ship. “You’re scaring off all the fish!” She steered her ship parallel and killed the engine. The music’s thumping bass pulsed through the water, shaking their ship.

“This is louder than 79’s,” Crosshair yelled to Omega.

“What? What’s 79’s?” Omega yells back.

“A club!” Crosshair tries to be heard over the booming bass.

“A club, like to hit something with?” Omega was confused. Crosshair just shook his head, not wanting to scream over the music a third time. He looked over into the ship to see you, motionless through the music. He and Omega shared a concerned glance that you were perhaps dead and floating out on the waters of Pabu alone. Omega jumped into your boat, racing over to your side to see if you were alive. 

She touches your shoulder, which sends you from your deep sleep into a panic. You grab your gun off the side table out of instinct, but before you can turn back, you hear a blaster fire; then you fade back asleep. —

You awake again, still on your boat. The music had stopped. Your head pulsing with every heartbeat. The world spun; the ship gently rocked back and forth. You clasped your head in your hands as you swung your legs to the side of the beach chair to sit up properly.

“Did you stun me?” You looked at the young blonde stranger on your ship. You felt at ease seeing that only a child had climbed aboard.

“I did.” A voice behind you hissed. You spun around to see a tall, thin, but built man leaning against the rails of your ship. 

You raise an eyebrow as you look back and forth between the two invaders. Their eyes, similar in shape and color, you asked the young woman, “Is he your father?”

“Father?” She said back with a confused face. “No, I’m Omega, and this is my brother, Crosshair.”

You look back at the man. Crosshair nodded in your direction to acknowledge his introduction. His eyes, mysterious and dark, studied your figure. You followed the outline of his jaw to his lips, which pursed a toothpick. Crosshair was deeply handsome. You turned your attention back to Omega.

You whispered to her, “Is your brother single?” Omega, turning confused towards you again, “What do you mean is he single?” Omega stammered at a normal volume. 

“Shhh!” You put your finger to your lips and hush her softly through a laugh. “Geez, kid. Relentless.”

You look back at Crosshair, who had obviously heard Omega repeat what you asked. His eyes narrowed and he looked at you suspiciously. 

“Anyway, I’m sorry to have woken in such a fright. I came out here to be alone.” You rebroke the awkward conversational ice.

“Obviously.” Crosshair rolled his eyes at your remark.

“We’re out here fishing. Your music was really loud, so we came over to ask if you could turn it down.” Omega explained.

“Oh.” You nodded back. “I’m sorry for all the noise. I guess I fell asleep.” “How do you sleep through all of that?” Omega questioned.

“I didn’t think I would drift off to it. I guess I was that tired.” You apologized.

“Well, don’t bother us again.” Crosshair flicked his toothpick in your direction and jumped into he and Omega’s ship. 

“Sorry, he’s pretty… severe in nature, as my other brother would say.” Omega whispered in your direction. “Do you live here on Pabu?”

You shrugged and began, “I–” “Omega! Let’s get back to work!” Crosshair called from their ship. “Sorry, gotta complete this morning’s mission.” And with that, Omega ran to the railing and hopped to her ship. “I’ll see you around, right?” Crosshair hit the throttle and they were off. Omega waved goodbye to you and then cast a net out for fishing. You watched the pair accelerate away, leaving you alone. You looked to your chair-side table to see your pistol missing. “Dammit, he took my blaster.”

—---

You docked your ship at the lower levels of Pabu late that afternoon. You had wasted nearly an entire day as the sun set on the ocean once more. You gathered your pack from the ship and jumped from the ship’s bow to the dock.

“We built ramps to walk up the dock, you know.” A long-haired fellow laughed. 

“Right, sorry.” You nodded in his direction. “Cool tattoo.”

The man touched his face, as if he had forgotten it was there, “Thanks. The name’s Hunter.” He threw his hand out for you to shake. 

You dropped your bag and shook his hand firmly, looking into his dark eyes.

“Huh, you have the same eyes as someone else I met today.”

“Hey! It’s you again!” You heard Omega run down the dock towards you and Hunter.

“Ah, that would be who I met.” You said to Hunter. Omega, with her running start, leaped onto Hunter’s back to be eye-level with you. 

“That’s the woman that asked me if Crosshair was single!” Omega announced. Hunter laughed, “Oh, is that right?” With a look of comedic-disbelief, you raised your finger to your lips once more “Shhh!” Omega giggled, “What? I don’t see what the big deal is.” Hunter, picking up your bag and asked “Well, do you have a place to stay tonight?”

Feeling uncomfortable, you take your bag off his shoulder and slide it back on to yours. “Yeah, I have my ship.” You studied Hunter cautiously.

“Well, do you have food for tonight?”

Hunter was kind and genuine. “I have some rations, but are you extending an invitation?”

“Indeed we are.” Hunter smiled softly. You thought about turning them down, but it had been a while since anyone wanted to see you. You were thought to be an introvert because of the solitude you maintained, but rather, your solitude was only from broken friendships and bad deals. “Please?” Omega smiled. You nodded in her direction. “Okay. But only because Crosshair stole my blaster.”

Hunter rolled his eyes, “Of course he did.”

—-

“And this is my brother, Wrecker!” Omega led you into the kitchen area, parading you around like a trophy. 

“Hey Kid! And, kid’s friend!” Wrecker howled. Astounded at his size and volume, you took a step back. His whitened eye, connected to visible scar tissue screamed of life experience and horrors. His demeanor juxtaposed his appearance, as his jovial laugh filled the room. 

Omega led you to your seat at the table and sat down next to you. “Wrecker! She’s the woman that asked if–” You turned to Omega, jaw-dropped that she was about to embarrass you once again. She met your eyes and changed her sentence halfway through. “Asked if–you were a good cook?” Omega shrugged. “Am I a good cook? Well, I’ve never killed anybody in the kitchen!” Wrecker laughed. “Well, except for that one time–” And he stopped himself. You laughed, “What one time?” Your laugh drifted into an uneasy silence as you looked at his scars again, now realizing it probably wasn’t a joke. Hunter broke the silence, “Well, we’ve seen a lot of action over the years. But I promise you, it’s all over now.”

Wrecker threw a pot of food on the table and with a proud smile announced, “Dinner is served.” “Where’s Crosshair?” Omega asked Hunter. “I–I don’t know. I let him know we had company.”

“He’s probably out watching the sun set again.” Omega reached for the serving spoon. “Uh, Omega, let the guest serve herself first.” Hunter motioned towards you to take the spoon. “Right, I’m the one to check if it’s poisoned.” You replied back, halfway joking. Wrecker shot a smile your way, “I promise my food has never killed anyone.” He had that similar genuine kindness that Hunter expressed. You reached for the serving spoon and dished up. 

“So, what’s your story? Or, I guess, what’s even your name?” Hunter taking the serving spoon says. “Right, uh.” You give them your first name and paused for a moment. Your fears quelled in your gut as it hadn’t been easy to tell your story lately. “I’m from–I was, well, I’m starting over here on Pabu.” 

“We are too!” Omega beamed.

“What do you like to do?” Hunter asked.

It was such an easy question, but you went blank. “I–I guess I’m figuring that out again too.”

“Hmm.” Hunter studied your face. “You look like you’ve been through a lot.”

“I get a similar feeling your family has too.” “Was it the Empire?” Omega touched your arm. The sincerity of experience in her voice pulled at your heart. You realized then they were all survivors, fleeing the Empire. “In a way, but no.” You responded back. “I was involved in a close-knit group, but some of us had a different idea of how to run things. I cut my losses and wrapped up what ends I could to escape.” You stirred the food around your dish, “I wouldn’t expect anyone to understand.” “We might understand better than you’d think,” a familiar voice hissed from the door. 

“Glad to see you back, Crosshair.” Omega jumped up and pulled out a chair for her brother. In a single protective motion, he sat in the chair and moved Omega to stand behind him. “I see you didn’t follow my instructions to leave us alone.” Crosshair leaned over the table to invade your space. You felt the tension of the room ignite as he stared into your eyes, hoping to intimidate you. 

“Crosshair!” Hunter interjected. You relaxed and leaned back in your chair, proving Crosshair’s intimidation tactic didn’t work. “Give me back my pistol and I’ll be on my way,” you replied. Wrecker groaned, “Aw, but you just got here!” Crosshair leaned towards Wrecker, “But you don’t know what she is!”

Omega’s face drained into a look of concern, “What do you mean, ‘what she is?’ ” Crosshair took his toothpick from his mouth and emphasized his words, “She’s a bounty hunter.” Omega, concerned glances from Crosshair back to you. Hunter and Wrecker tense up a little. You didn’t react well. Grabbing a pathetic dinner knife, you stand up from the table in a combative position. Knocking drinks from the table, Wrecker, Hunter, and Crosshair all pull weapons from their belts, and the stand-off begins. 

You and the men wait for someone to move first. Their six eyes, or well, five eyes, melted your skin. Omega broke the silence. “Can you stop with that? Crosshair, how do you even know she’s a bounty hunter?” Omega says as she lowers Hunter’s knife for him. 

“Tech’s records.” Crosshair sighed. “She matches a description of a bounty hunter that engaged with the Separatists near the end of the war. Then I cross-referenced with Echo’s files which revealed her deals with the Empire.”

Hunter looks at you, “Well, is that true?” “Would it matter if it was true?” Your voice broke. “Yes!” All three harmonized. “Look, I’m not a bounty hunter anymore.” You started, then dropped your guard completely. “Like I said, I’m here for a fresh start.” You put down the dinner knife and met their gaze once more. They were still ready to jump on you.

“And I’m not involved with the Empire any longer,” you insisted.

Omega motioned Wrecker and Crosshair to lower their weapons. They relaxed a little, but kept their eyes focused on your movements. You nodded in Omega’s direction in gratitude and broke the silence again, “Thanks for the dinner invite, but maybe this won’t work out.” In a moment of trust, you turned your back to the family and walked out of the home. 

You started towards the space port. 

—- You unlocked the door to your ship as you heard someone call your name. You stopped and turned. Crosshair made a small effort to wave hello as he walked closer to you. 

You put your bag in your ship and locked the door again. You walked down the ramp to meet Crosshair. His lips opened slightly, as if he were to begin a sentence, but instead rubbed his forehead. You waited in silence with your arms crossed. “Here.” He reached out with your pistol in hand. You met his reach and he pressed the pistol into your palm. For a stoic man, his brow and eyes communicated a lot. He glanced up at you and back to the ground. “Thanks.” You placed the blaster back in its holster. 

“We, or I, don’t trust very easily.” He revealed. “Omega, Wrecker… And Hunter, they’re all I have left.” He motioned towards your weapon, “So, don’t point that at my family again.” “I’m sorry.” You looked to the side, “You know, I don’t trust anyone a whole lot either. I mean, how could I?” 

He didn’t even look to acknowledge the comment. He really wasn’t much of a conversationalist.

You looked up from the ground again and started in a monotone, “What did you read in my file?”

Crosshair stood a little more upright and engaged back with you, “You have a reckless reputation... And worked bounty jobs for the Empire.”

“I’ve made mistakes,” you corrected, then calmly stated, “But I couldn’t keep living like that.”

Crosshair took a deep breath and focused his attention to the ocean.

“I too have made mistakes.” Crosshair nearly whispered as he took a step away from you and placed his right hand into his left. “Reckless mistakes.” 

You looked closer, only to realize his right hand was mechanical. Crosshair turned to face you again. You studied the scar on his temple and his face tattoo. 

“I should get back.” He turned, but you reached out and touched his shoulder. 

You started, “Look, I was wondering, if —“ 

Crosshair cut you off “If I’m single?”

You felt the corners of your lips creep up into a small smile and you let your hand slide down his arm.

“No, well, that too, but I was wondering if you were thirsty?”

Crosshair raised an eyebrow.

“Do you want to come aboard my ship for a drink?” You motioned towards your ship.

“Why do you have an interest in me? What trick are you playing?” He scowled.

“No tricks,” you promised. “You… intrigue me. And somehow, I feel I can trust you.”

He stood there in silence, evaluating his options. Crosshair knew he could just go home, listen to Omega talk about her dreams, and have a peaceful evening overlooking Pabu from his bedroom balcony. Or, he could take this stranger up on her offer and escape being “Crosshair” for a moment. He realized it would be nice to talk to someone that didn’t know his past.

“One drink.” He insisted. 

You gave him a soft smile and remotely opened the door to your ship. 

—-

You and Crosshair were three drinks in when he turned to you and realized time had slipped by faster than expected.

“Omega is going to tease me relentlessly for the next week.” Crosshair chuckled and swirled his drink. 

“What else are little sisters for?” You smiled back.

Crosshair continued to chuckle for a moment, thinking of Omega and how close they’ve grown. As he sat next to you in your ship’s booth, he turned to face you.

“Do you have siblings?” Crosshair inquired.

“I did, yes.” You begin to tap the table with your fingers. His eyes bore into your soul. 

“Did?” Crosshair muttered.

“I believe they’re all still alive, but I expect I’ll never see them again. Well, they don’t want to see me again.” You shrugged.

Crosshair looked intrigued. 

You continued, “I grew up in a rather… well, orthodox society. Everything was laid out for me in life: education, code of conduct, dress standards, diet, who I’d marry, and more. When I left, it was required by the society that my family no longer contact me.”

Crosshair listened intently. The unexpected attention made you feel at ease.

“How old were you, when you left?” Crosshair questioned.

“Old enough to turn to bounty hunting for quick money.” You shrugged. “Desperation will make you do some stupid things.”

“That it does,” Crosshair agreed. 

You leaned forward slightly and raised your hand to Crosshair’s cheek, letting your thumb trace the outline of his face tattoo. 

“Is this out of desperation? Your… fascination with me?” He took your hand from his face and held it between you and him.

“You didn’t see me stick around to see if Hunter was single.” You laughed.

His face remained unchanged.

So you continued your joke, “And we both know there’s no way Wrecker is single.” 

That line earned you a small smile from him.

You took his hand in yours, tracing his fingers.

“No, I don’t think it’s out of desperation.” You looked up into his eyes, “Do you trust me?”

Crosshair clasped his hand around yours.

“Oddly enough, I do.”

—

Part 2: The Warning

[vintagerpg]

This is I11: Needle (1987), a reworked tournament module by Frank Mentzer. It features pregenerated characters named the Ghost, Blaze, Finder, Blondy, Slim and Smiley. There is at least one stealth Star Wars quote. The players need to go into a jungle to get a weird obelisk, haul the thing back, then explore the moon the obelisk teleports them too. The first part is a pretty typical hex crawl, albeit punctuated with puzzles and high strangeness. The third part is a dungeon crawl. The dungeon crawl sure is odd (it ends with a confrontation with “Tiamat” and no, I am not going to explain that further) but it is the middle part that I think is the most interesting.

The middle part is the hauling of the obelisk back to the king who wanted it found (its not an obelisk, its actually a gigantic piece of tech). This is sort of a nightmare logistical puzzle, involving lots of NPCs sailing to the obelisk, taking it down, packing it up and hauling it back. Things need to be built. Like roads. And a raft (the thing is hollow and will float). That means lumber. Which means upsetting the natives, who are bullywugs and grippli, locked in rivalry with each other. The whole thing plays out across two months of daily events, which feels like a novel sort of slog. I’d definitely enjoy playing this — there are all sorts of opportunities for things to just go entirely off the rails.

Clyde Caldwell cover art. I don’t love it, but I honestly think that is because it was recycled for the 2E Rogues Gallery, a book I loathe. The interiors are by Doug Chaffee, who I don’t know. They feel like run of the mill late-‘80s D&D illustrations.

[foone]

Ablative Humanity

An old story about mechsuits and identity, copied from my former twitter account (originally written on August 10th, 2018).

So the war comes, and we have to use mechanical exoskeletons to have any chance of fighting back. They're mind-linked, so you control them by just thinking of moving, and they learn from you to get better, predict your motions, and you become a better fighter.

At first you're just wearing it for when you go out on raids, or when you're on guard duty, but after so many surprise raids you end up wearing it all the time.

it's comfortable enough to live in, and with the sensors hooked up you don't really feel "you" anymore, you feel the suit. After a while it starts to feel weird when you have to take it off for a medical check up.

In the early days, you felt "big" in the suit. now you feel "small" when you take it off. You stop taking it off, as much as possible. towards the end of the war you're wearing it for weeks at a time, then months at a time.

Finally, the enemy is pushed back. Security can exist again, the random raids slowly trail off, and slowly things settle down. you remember what "calm" is.

There's never a treaty, but at least you're no longer staying up for days at a time watching the horizon with the suit's far-beyond-human eyes, watching for an attack. You're no longer keeping a satellite feed up in the corner of your vision, watching for movement.

And the day you were waiting for, at least at first, finally comes. You're going home. The war is over, or over enough that you're no longer needed here. You can take off the suit for the last time, and go back to your pre-war life.

You approach that appointment with some trepidation. you've felt so weak and tiny and powerless when you've had to be outside the suit before, will you ever get used to being a normal human again?

It takes three techs and 2 doctors to get the suit open at this point, given all the armor and modifications that have been made. it's basically grown around you like a second skin, just a second skin that can shrug off high-explosive anti-tank rounds.

They start with computer connectors and migrate to screwdrivers and by the end they're using something that looks like halfway between a crowbar and the jaws of life, while you're busy keeping your automatic self-defense reactions from frying them.

And finally they crack it open, and someone vomits from the smell. There's nothing but a decaying corpse inside.

There's confusion at first, someone asks if you're controlling the suit remotely, but they check the dogtags. Then the DNA. It's you. or, "you". Cause you're you, aren't you? This is just a human body... and you're still alive.

The suit's mind-link systems grew into your brain and took over functionality and worked on emulating your reactions so it could do what you want, better, faster.

And at the same time, your mind did what human minds do: they adapt. Humans are naturally cyborgs, you only have to pick up a pencil to realize that. It's part of your body image, and you think of moving the pencil, not moving your fingers to move the pencil.

So your human mind got more robotic, and the suit's computerized mind got more human. At some point you met in the middle.

And then one day on the battlefield when the biological half died, you didn't even notice. It was just another redundant part, just your ablative humanity.

You're still you. You're not the you that was born all those decades ago, but the you that was built and given life by bonding with a biological "you" that you've since discarded.

It's the Ship of Theseus, replacing every plank and beam as they rot, and there never being a point when it stops being the original and starts being a new thing. You have continuity of self from when you were born to now.

It's just that the Ship of Theseus started as a single-sail wooden ship with oars, and is now an aircraft carrier made of titanium and iron, with nuclear fire in its heart.

[disneytva]

Walt Disney Imagineering Announces "San Fransokyo Street" Based On The Big Hero 6 Franchise Set For The Disney Adventure Cruise Slated To Sail In 2025.

The Disney Adventure will set sail on its maiden voyage out of Singapore on December 15, 2025! With seven themed areas, all-day entertainment and plenty of space for family fun, there will be so much to discover. So, how will you decide what to do first?

Disney Adventure cruise slated to sail in 2025 will have "San Fransokyo Street" inspired by the Big Hero 6 franchise. It's unknow if the area will have nods to "Big Hero 6: The Series" at the moment but i guess they will based on the current collab with Imagineering and Disney TVA.

San Fransokyo Street, inspired by the eclectic world of Disney Animation’s “Big Hero 6,” will be a vibrant street market perfect for family entertainment with interactive games and activities, shops, cinemas and more, plus endearing encounters with the larger-than-life Baymax himself. You’ll be able to put your hero skills to the test in the Hiro Training Zone, an immersive training simulator built by boy genius Hiro Hamada. The active, full-body experience will have groups of four running, dodging and blocking their way across a high-tech gaming floor.

[tsukimefuku]

Toxic endeavors

You and Higuruma are on your third mission, and you save him from getting injured, putting yourself in harm's way as you do so.

tags: Jujutsu Kaisen, f!reader, angst, canon-typical violence.

wc: 2.4K

This is part of my "Jujutsu Partners Canon Divergence AU". A sequence of short stories and random drabbles related to Nanami x Reader x Higuruma. To see the ever-growing list of one-shots and short stories, please visit my masterlist :) 

Disclaimer: these stories are NOT written and posted in chronological order of events. To see where this story fits in the timeline, please check the masterlist mentioned above.

"How truly relevant is the job of a sorcerer?" Higuruma asked as you both walked down the corridor of a closed school. 

"What do you mean?" You inquired, looking around for any sign of the curse you were both sent out to exorcize. Gladly, this curse had been detected by one of the windows before anyone went missing, which was a rare occurrence. You thought this had already started off pretty good, and all could be smooth sailing from there.

It wouldn't be.

"What I mean to say is that curses spawn cyclically, from what you and other sorcerers have told me, right?" 

"Hm, yes?" You replied, unsure where he intended to lead this conversation. His rants usually arrived to cynical, pessimistic or nihilistic conclusions, though, as you had noticed from previous interactions.

"So, considering curses will always keep spawning, why do we bother sending people to die facing them?" Higuruma finally posed the question. "This is an incredibly risky line of work, after all."

"Because curses don't just disappear, they have to be exorcized. Otherwise, more people might die due to cursed activity."

"From what I could gather, there aren't that many jujutsu sorcerers, and the quantity of people disappearing due to cursed activity has stayed the same, even with Jujutsu sorcerers numbers increasing. I think it's fair to say we don't make a dent" Higuruma replied nonchalantly.

You sighed. "You might have a point. Even so, our job is to exorcize curses, and I don't see a downfall to that activity in and of itself. I mean..." you shrugged, "exorcizing curses is just that, exorcizing curses. Not saving lives or anything of the sort. Getting rid of the literal corporeal manifestation of bad feelings is surely something good to be doing."

He sighed heavily.

"Hey, I like it just as much as you do" you said.

"Really?" He asked.

"Yes. I'm here working for Jujutsu High somewhat against my own volition too. Not the same as you," you remarked, briefly looking at Higuruma, "but trust me, I would rather be doing something else with my time. Maybe even exorcizing curses, but not for them."

That poked just a little at his curiosity, but he didn't pay enough mind to it in order to ask you for further information. Higuruma still felt awkward to be working alongside someone he had nearly killed, and on top of that, from what he learned, had saved his life shortly after. 

"What about this Jujutsu High, or Jujutsu Tech? Why are they in charge of making decisions regarding jujutsu and curses?" Higuruma asked.

"Beats me, I have no idea. What I know is that their headmaster, so to speak, has been building this alongside some very powerful clans for some centuries. That's about it."

He kept silent, and the awkward silence entangled the both of you.

"Let's just get the job done and get out of here" you concluded.

Shortly after, you both heard some noise coming from the floor above, and you looked at Higuruma as he increased the length of his gavel, turning it into a mid-range weapon. You conjured some grenades and kept them between your fingers, walking towards the stairs. The two of you stepped up quietly, and peered up.

Sliding on the ground, there was a purple creature with many tentacles and yellow eyes all over its body. As it moved, its tentacles were leaving some greenish substance all over the floor and walls.

It definitely rang some alarm bells in your head.

However, before you could talk to him, Higuruma had already jumped over to the top of the stairs and was lunging towards the curse, doing something he had been so accustomed to do by this point.

I could kill him myself with my bare hands right now.

Being a prodigy regarding his sorcerer abilities, Higuruma had exorcized successfully multiple high grade curses around Morioka before you found him. So his usual instinct by now was to charge against any found curse without assessing much about the situation. You had already warned him the previous two missions you both went together, having to run around trying to accompany him while Higuruma swung his gavel, tearing multiple holes and wounds on each and every curse along the way. He'd forget, many times, that the thing ricocheted, and almost hit you twice on your last mission.

"For fuck's sake, Higuruma! Wait up!" You yelled, jumping over and running towards him.

"'Let's just get the job done', right?!" He yelled back, swirling his weapon — now his size — to crush the curse on the ground. Yet, before he did so, the curse squirmed around with its tentacles, pinning itself to the ceiling, leaving a green trail of slobber on the walls as it did.

"Be careful!"

You suspected what the green goo oozing out the curse's tentacles might be, and you'd be proven right in just a few moments.

"Why?!" He shouted back, getting ready to propel himself upwards with his weapon. You were nearing him when the cursed spirit flung one of its tentacles in his direction, and you could see  that it was covered in stings, spitting the green substance on its bottom side.

"Get away!" You yelled, as you pushed him out of the tentacle's trajectory. However, it wrapped around your arm before you could pull it back, and the spears pierced your skin, pumping your blood with cursed poison. Another tentacle came down rapidly and whipped your face, leaving a few cuts behind.

You let out a pained grunt before conjuring one of your grenades with your other hand and grabbing the thing that was around your arm, exploding it.

Underneath, your arm was bloody and starting to turn purple.

He looked at your arm and then at you. "Are you okay?"

"Of course I'm fucking not!" You gnarled, feeling the poison pumping through your veins like corrosive acid. You figured you'd only have some seconds before losing control over your muscles, given they were already twitching, so you mustered the strength to summon multiple grenades, throwing some of them upwards with one hand. As the curse tried to do the same move, sliding down towards the stairs you both came from to avoid impact, you threw the remainder of them in its direction, hitting the curse full force with the blasts. It was exorcized in an instant, leaving nothing but some bits and pieces around that slowly dissipated away.

This was the first time Higuruma actually witnessed you using your innate cursed technique with this much power, worthy of a Grade 1 sorcerer from what he had learned, and figured you wanted to end this quickly.

In your previous missions, you had let him beat the curses into oblivion, taking the time he needed to — which was fast, but not this fast. He thought you did so just to let him earn his 'pay', but now Higuruma figured that he had made it impossible for you to fight properly alongside him.

When he put himself in between you and the curses, just advancing without coordinating moves with you, you'd be unable to use an explosion technique like this without seriously injuring him.

Huffing, you tried walking, but your legs began failing you. Your body was about to fall when Higuruma hurried himself to hold you before you did.

"Take me b-back to Jujutsu High right n-now" you said, voice breaking at the burning sensation all throughout your body, as you tried your best to use your RCT to protect your organs, muscles, and bones from corroding or malfunctioning due to the poison.

Using RCT to deal with poison was very tricky, so the best strategy was protection of your own body while it worn out instead of trying to separate the poison from your blood and tissues, which required a super fine control of cursed energy that you absolutely could not do in this state.

He nodded, picking you up in his arms, feeling a pit of guilt forming in his gut. If he had waited before charging in, then maybe this could all have been avoided.

I'm an idiot.

***

"And here you are again, it seems" Shoko said, as she prepped a drip with analgesics while you healed yourself.

You nodded, chuckling softly, feeling every nerve in your body burn painfully in response. You were covered in cold sweat, had your jaw clenched and looked like 2 steps away from perishing. Even with your RCT, the poison had burned some damage through your body, and you knew you'd be facing a gnarly recovery period.

"Yeah, but this time it wasn't completely intentional" was all you mustered up the strength to say.

"I guess that's what people call 'an accident', then" Shoko answered, before she sighed. After she finally inserted the needle in your arm, securing it, Shoko stepped back, and said, "if your RCT starts to run out, let me know, I'll take over so you can rest."

You hummed in accordance, and she removed her gloves, throwing them in the trash before coming out of your room and closing the door. Outside, Higuruma sat, leaning his body lazily against the wall behind him. 

"It's my fault, she pushed me out of harm's way because I was being careless," he mindlessly said to Shoko, "just like every damn thing that brought me here. It's all my fault."

Shoko scoffed, putting one hand on her pocket to search for her cigarettes.

"Feeling guilty is not healing her faster" Shoko said, looking straight at him.

Higuruma was slightly surprised at her comment.

Shoko proceeded, "carrying guilt like that because of some sense of penitence only leads to things like these. People get hurt while you're taking your time reveling in your guilt, acting recklessly. Do better."

Pursing his lips, he looked at the floor, embarrassed for the consequence of his actions. This guilt of ending up harming someone and endangering their life had him finally grasping upon the feelings he had buried deep shortly after killing the judge and the prosecutor.

It felt awful.

It seemed his humanity was slowly being rescued from the depths of his apathetic state, after all.

Both Shoko and Higuruma noticed some steps as someone approached them.

"Where is she? What happened?"

Higuruma heard a male voice and looked upwards, seeing a tall blond man with a blue formal shirt, equally formal beige pants and green goggles. One of his hands was wrapped up with what seemed like a yellow cloth with a black splatter pattern — was it a tie? — and he had a brown leather harness on his upper body, seemingly used to carry something in his back.

"She's stable, and as fine as she could be fighting cursed poison" Shoko replied, finally managing to fish out her pack of cigarettes from her pocket.

"It's my fault. She took the damage to save me" Higuruma said, looking at the man. "I'm Higuruma."

Nanami glared at him, knowing full well who it was. This was the curse user that had endangered your life when you went to take him into custody. Nanami had absolutely no idea why you thought you should save this man from execution, but held himself begrudgingly from making any especially harsh remarks as you tried to help the man.

"Nanami" he answered unceremoniously, still glaring at the other sorcerer. "If you plan to keep working for Jujutsu High in order to ease your punishment, then be considerate of your colleagues. We don't do well with recklessness in the field, as it can get other people killed."

The ratio sorcerer stabbed each word at Higuruma with a frosty bite of anger as he spoke.

Higuruma lowered his head and sighed. "You're right. I apologize."

Nanami scoffed silently. "You should apologize to her, and probably be grateful as well. It seems she might have saved you from many things, and not just from getting hit with cursed poison" he concluded, while getting into the room and closing the door behind him.

"Congratulations, you just earned your first Nanami lecture" Shoko chimed in, while calmly walking away. She stopped, however, and turned one last time to face Higuruma.

"Hm?"

"You should really thank her. She's really doing more than anyone here would do to help you."

"Why, though? Why did she help me?" He inquired, not really keen on asking you the same thing. Coming back into contact with his feelings rather than keep embracing apathy, like he had been ever since killing those people, was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

Shoko shrugged. "No idea. I think it's because she's the martyr and good-hearted type" she said, while sighing. "Just... Don't be an ass" Shoko stated, right before finally stepping away.

***

"May I come in?" Higuruma asked, uncertain, as he stood by your door after Nanami left.

You rolled your eyes, ready to ask him to leave, but pondered for a moment. Looking back at the sorcerer, you noticed his usual lackadaisical expression had been chipped away, replaced by a somewhat worried frown.

"Fine, come in" you answered, still accompanying him with your eyes.

He walked in and sat on a chair by your bedside, with bated breath, as you glanced at him curious about what he wanted to speak.

You were almost at your wit's end with the man. He had been nothing but an irresponsible, inconsiderate jackass ever since you got his death sentence suspended with Gojo's help. You understood and sympathized with his contempt for corrupt powers in place, being yourself someone carrying such types of feelings most of the time.

However, it got you beyond angry the way he simply disregarded anyone's well-being and efforts when proceeding with the terms of his 'parole'. You were to work together, you were supposed to shepherd him, and even so, all he had done up until this point was endangering the both of you at the battlefield.

"I apologize" Higuruma said, earnestly, looking down.

"Hm. For what?" You inquired, wanting a proper apology.

"For my irresponsibility. And for attacking you the first time we crossed paths. Also for acting in a way in our previous missions that made your job of shepherding me harder than it should be" he said, sighing after. "I’m sorry."

Your anger had diminished, and you took a few moments before addressing him.

"I accept your apology, but you’ll definitely have to do better than you have been doing. Do you understand? I can’t have by my side a reckless, suicidal maniac. It’s a liability not only for you, but for me too."

Higuruma nodded, lifting his gaze to look at you.

"I understand."

"Do we have a deal?" You said, sliding your good hand under the gurney's side support grip for a makeshift handshake.

He took your hand in his, and avoided moving it too much, while he felt his tense body slightly relax as he did.

We have a deal.

[thesims4blogger]

New The Sims 4 Survey Asks Players About Future Expansion Packs

There is a new official The Sims 4 survey asking players about potential expansion pack ideas they could develop in the future, based on nine different concepts.

This is not the first time EA asks players for feedback on ideas for upcoming packs. Titles like Snowy Escape were heavily hinted in official surveys years before their release.

With that said, it is uncertain if any of these nine expansion pack ideas will see the light of day, or how much they will change upon development. You can read a brief description of each of the nine concepts below.

Make sure you take the survey and let the team know what you want to see in The Sims 4.

“Traverse an uncharted, otherwordly extreme environment where civilization has collapsed and nature has reclaimed the remnants of a once-great city, your Sim must adapt to survive and work together to thrive.”

“Journey with your Sims through an adventurous exploration of coastal landscapes to discover prehistoric and marine fossils and other natural wonders, showcase your unique discoveries to inspire conservation and adventure skills.”

“Experience a modern monarchy, where you’ll build your legacy through grand estates, political intrigue, and luxurious fashion. Rise from commoner to ruler, forge alliances, and navigate royal rivalries in a culturally rich, high-stakes drama of power, influence, and exclusive living.”

“Shape your Sims’ fate in a gritty city. Will they become notorious criminals, vigilante for justice, or play both sides? Navigate from small-time pickpocketing to high-stakes heists, and decide your path in a world full of shady deals and intense stakeouts.”

“Transport your Sims to a neon-lit cyberpunk future where you can enhance their human or robot lives with cutting-edge tech, explore gritty careers, and navigate complex relationships between Sims & robots, in a whimsical dystopian world.”

“Create an adventure-filled sleepaway camp where kids discover new hobbies, uncover camp secrets, and forge lifelong friendships, all while exploring beaches, lakes, and rivers under the care of dedicated counselors.”

“Customize your travel van and live on the road. Explore picturesque destinations, trade with the locals, and work on your mechanic skills. Prepare for your retirement and expanded elder adventures.”

“Step into a lively 80s/90s retro world in a bustling mall setting, enjoying classic, throwback activities and unique storylines that reimagine the era with nostalgic charm and unforgettable drama.”

“Dive into a vibrant ocean world and explore hidden treasures, meet marine life, build your seaside dream, and sail between charming coastal towns. Every dive and voyage offers new discoveries.”

[boilingheart]

Headcanon that Riptide and Blood in the Bayou exist in PD as a TV show and a movie respectively.

Riptide (TV) existed as a very long prolific pirate show, think some weird cross of Black Sails and Our Flag Means Death, but it got a Supernatural treatment. I’m talkin this shit started small, intending to be only 2 or 3 seasons long, but ended up with a long winded 16 seasons as the plots continued to develop further and further and escalate beyond imagination. By the time PD starts, the show has mercifully ended but the producers have been GUNNING for spinoffs (a Black Rose Pirates prequel has been rejected by the network three times; it may be for the best tbh)

Blood in the Bayou was originally an 80s horror movie, a classic, though relatively obscure. Hardcore movie goers have it, and collectors still have the original VHS copies (I have a separate personal headcanon that Mark likes to collect old stuff like old tech and classic physical media just for fun; he has the BitB VHS in the garage somewhere). Though it wasn’t really known by many, those who did know had a hardcore love for it. Enough so that eventually, BitB got picked up by some producers, and by modern day, Blood in the Bayou has had a full remake and is in theaters NOW

Some trivia about both medias: 

- The actor that played Chip in Riptide (TV) was cast to play Timothy Rand in the BitB reboot. Many are delighted that he’s now moving to movie work post-Riptide’s end, especially since he was an unknown young actor prior to the show. (He’s now 36 years old. He began the show at 19)

- The actor cast for Rolan Deep is actually related to William Wisp, in that he’s like, an uncle’s cousin somewhere further on the family tree. Not closely related, but...

- Kian Stone’s actor is painfully offline. He’s unfamiliar with fandom stuff to an incredible degree. He did a “reading your thirst tweets” for a video and didn’t understand half of what was being said about him. This makes his interactions with Rand’s actor, who is familiar with All Of It, even more entertaining.

- Riptide (TV) is effectively the SPN in the PD universe. Yes, you had a Riptide phase in high school. Come on now. Rumblr was all about it. Harlem had a Riptide phase.

“what about apotheosis!!” oh everything that happened in Apotheosis is Real, Actually. it’s just on another plane/world probably. 

(I haven’t watched Apotheosis idk anything about it but I like to imagine that everything there is very much real because that’s Funny to me)

[000marie198]

The Tails Squad find out that they can bring back "Souvenirs" from the games they went to (Basically anything they can hold onto/fit into a bag/some form of storage before going back to their world)

They immediately go to loot games like RaC, several RPG's, and Minecraft

And to think it all started when Sails forgot he was holding some random sword from an open world game they went to.

JFJDJEHCJGJFI YESSS!

The Squad would be bringing overpowered artifacts and weapons when they battle someone. Bringing guns to a fist fight.

____________

When they grounded from tech and get bored, they start LARPing with actual magic infused stuff. One of their friends asks to join and gets shocked to the core when those things work and now one of them has a chicken head (yes I'm stealing from TMNT SHHHH!)

____________

Sonic sees a very familiar weapon and promptly freezes.

"Tails, Tails, where did you find Excalibur? TAILS?!"

_____________

*IDW Tails and Modern playing some futuristic action games on console or something*

"Such a cool gadget."

"I wish I had it."

"Same."

"..."

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

The two foxes grin at each other. 15 minutes later, the so called gadget is missing and npcs are freaking out

_____________

"Is that the golden apple?"

"No."

"Tails."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." *Crunch*

_____________

Ali and the Forty Thieves

Aka SatSR Tails and his counterparts pilaging videogames for cool artifacts. They have a secret storage 'cave' for the treasure under their collective hangout lab

____________

Like mysterious cottages in the woods where you can get magic stuff or whatever, the Squad now has potions. From Minecraft. They craft it and then take it. Menaces. Absolute menaces.

Tails totally did not spike Sonic's chilidogs once with the slowness potion to win a race against him nuh uh no sir.

_____________

Random videogame protag: "Wait- where did my staff go?!"

Meanwhile, evil cackles and magic explosions occur 3 dimensions away.

______________

Oh hey look, freshly cooked lovely delicious meals and snacks from those cooking games.

_____________

Something happens in Modern's world and they need a very particular vehicle very quick, no time to build it, need it NOW quick. All the friends freaking out over this and Tails goes, "Don't worry I got this"

He fiddles with Miles Electric and within 5 minutes, a hanger that had stood empty an hour ago opens to reveal the exact vehicle they needed, Boom giving them a casual wave as he drives it.

He stole it from GTA

____________

Every object in games that can be grabbed or picked up by the player, can be brought back with them.

Now some crucial clues and keys from those point and click mystery games are missing so nobody could break their high score

_____________

Not Nine and Tails pulling a heist on Octavius and Spidey to steal the Iron Spider-Man suit and those tentacles for Halloween costumes

______________

GUN's systems go haywire with warning of unknown unlicensed unverified spacecrafts and rockets and shuttles and satellites appearing out of nowhere all of a sudden and the entire HQ freaking out when two get launched while giving off separate and opposite but very similar mirror like tragectories.

Team Dark goes to investigate and finds that Classic and OVA got carried away playing Space Flight Simulator

__________

There are so many fun things that can be done with this idea. Gamers, take it away!

[blueiscoool]

The 170-Foot Sailing Yacht 'Reposado'

'Reposado' is available for charter in the Med, with rates starting at roughly $146,800 per week.

The custom 170-footer, which was recently delivered by Tramontana and listed for charter with IYC, combines the cruising capabilities of a high-tech sailer with the lavish amenities of a luxury superyacht.

Penned by the Croatian yard’s in-house team, Reposado features a sleek, contemporary exterior and an expansive, light-filled interior. The vessel is centered around a generous main salon that showcases elegant decor and bespoke furniture inspired by nature. The warm, inviting space is adorned with a plush L-shaped sofa, a coffee table, and a sophisticated bar from which you can enjoy your favorite reposado. Forward of the salon lies a formal dining area with a custom 12-seat table.

The Reposado can sleep 12 in six convertible cabins. Both the owner’s suite and the VIP measure the full width of the 28-foot beam. Seafarers (and any furry friends) will be attended to by a highly experienced crew of 10.

The exterior decks are geared toward entertaining. The sundeck is adorned with a wet bar, a fire pit, and an alfresco dining table at one end and a huge lounge at the other. Toward the center of the deck, an eight-seat Jacuzzi and sizeable sun pad sit beneath one of the two towering masts. At the aft, Reposado is outfitted with a giant beach club that gives guests direct access to the sea. The vessel also has a full arsenal of water toys, including a chase boat and Jet Skis.

In terms of grunt, Reposado is powered by twin Caterpillar C18 engines that enable a cruising speed of 12 knots and a top speed of 14 knots.

[godsfavoritescientist]

Building off of what I wrote in my fic "Sparks," I'm really compelled by the idea of Ford genuinely no longer being interested in sailing around in a boat with Stan by the time they were seniors in high school.

I like the idea of it not being just a symptom of the resentment that had been building between them, nor it being a dream of Ford's that only paled in comparison to west coast tech, but it being a genuine loss of interest on Ford's end. I think it complicates things even further in some really juicy ways.

Like, imagine going through high school slowly losing more and more interest in the dream you've shared with your twin and only friend ever since you were little kids. How do you break it to him? How do you explain it to him without making it sound like a rejection of him? Without it making him hate you?

How do you explain it without it feeling like a spit in the face to all the hard work he's put into a plan that started out as a way of him comforting you by telling you "it doesn't matter what people say about you, you're going to be an adventurer who sails away into the sunset and never has to hear their mockery ever again, and there will be babes and treasure and heroism, and then they'll all see how cool you really are!"

And all through high school you think to yourself, "he's going to move on to more realistic dreams any day now, and then I won't have to say anything about it!" But no matter how many times you mention something else he could do with his life that he seems interested in, or bring up the challenging logistics of traveling around long-term in a boat, he sounds just as committed to the childhood dream as ever, and completely oblivious to how apprehensive you sound.

So resentment grows, little by little. Because that's easier than confronting the soul-crushing levels of guilt that are building up inside of you, every time you don't take an opportunity to tell him you don't want to do the plan anymore. You don't have a single person in your life who modeled how to have difficult conversations for you. As far as you know, having this conversation with Stan would crush him into tiny little pieces and then he would hate you forever, and you can't stand the idea of losing the only friend you've ever had.

So tensions grow. A lack of interest turns into a bitter resentment that, if you were really being honest with yourself, is directed more at yourself than it is at Stan.

And then the falling-out happens, and it seems like you were proven right. Stan hates you now, and he's never going to forgive you for giving up on his dream. But two can play that game, so you try to hate him too. Because if you hate him too, then maybe it won't hurt as much that he never came back. That he never even turned up at school, or by the boat, or in through your bedroom window in the middle of the night. He knows what dad's like, and how he says impulsive exaggerated things when he's angry, and haven't you both dealt with his harsh words countless times before and been able to dust yourselves off and joke about it later? So why isn't he back at home, joking with you about how absurd your dad acted that night, being impossible and belligerent about ruining your dream, but at least now you're even, because you've ruined his dream too.

-

And now imagine you find out he risked the lives of everyone in existence to bring you back, right after you had accepted your fate was to die killing Bill. It would be terrifying and confusing and infuriating. If he cared so much, why didn't he do something to reconnect with you sooner? Why did he ignore you in favor of trying to make it big without you? Why didn't he take the infinitely safer and simpler action of reaching out to you without you having to track down his address and send a desperate plea for help? You were convinced that he didn't care enough to bother with you unless you had an important enough reason for him to come. But even then, he thought your plans were stupid. He didn't want anything to do with you, not even with the world at stake.

Did he save your life out of guilt? Does he pity you that much? It doesn't add up with what he did in the decade leading up to shoving you into the portal. And the dissonance between the version of him in your head that hates you, and the man who held out his arms to welcome you back to your home dimension, is so strong that you feel like you're being lied to again, like you're back in the depths of gaslighting and manipulation that Bill put you through, even though there's no way that's what Stan is trying to do... right? You can't figure it out, so you run away from it. You don't want to know the answer to whether or not Stan hates you, because you don't know which answer would hurt more, so you try to make him hate you more than ever, because at least then you would know for sure how he feels.

And in the end, after he sacrifices his memories for you, and for the world, things seem clearer. The layers upon layers of confusion and anger and hurt seem to have washed away like drawings in the sand, leaving behind the simple truth: that you two had an argument, and didn't move past it for forty years, and despite everything you put each other through, you both still want to re-connect.

So you sail away in a boat together.

And at first, it's wonderful. It's exactly what you want. It feels like an apology to Stan, and a thank-you for saving the world, and a once-in-a-lifetime chance to heal the rift between you two, and it's good to be back on earth, and you wonder why you ever doubted the dream you two once had.

But then, after the first long journey you spend on the sea together, when you get back home to dry land, Stan is already talking about planning your next adventure out on the open sea. He recaps every adventure you had on the first trip, over and over again, and he wants to chat with you all through the morning and long into the night, and you don't have the words to explain to yourself that you don't have enough social battery for this, and suddenly you're slipping back into the horrifyingly familiar feeling of Stan being overbearing and needing space from him and how could you think that? How could you think that about him after everything he's done for you and everything he's forgiven you for? But the longer this goes on, the more you realize that you still don't want to spend the rest of your life sailing around with Stan. It's great fun in moderation, but the idea of your whole life revolving around Stan and going on adventures with Stan and being in a boat with Stan with no time to be by yourself thinking about your own things and figuring out your own dreams makes your skin crawl with a claustrophobic kind of panic that you still don't know how to put into words forty years after the first time this feeling grabbed you by the throat and ruined your friendship with Stanley.

But the first time this happened, it nearly ruined his life forever. You can't let yourself feel this. You don't feel this. You're happy to spend the rest of your life fulfilling Stan's lifelong dream, and making up for the time you crushed his dream, and sure, maybe he crushed your dream once too, and maybe it would be nice for him to support your dreams like you're now doing for him, but you can't say that. He saved the universe, and it would be horrible and ungrateful and cruel for you to try to voice these feelings, especially when you don't know how to voice your feelings without it making other people feel like you twisted a knife into their gut. So you try to pretend the feeling isn't there.

You go out on a boat with Stan again. You planned out another incredible journey together, and this should be fun, and you should be happy about this, but the unspoken feeling you shoved as far down in yourself as it could possibly go is eating you alive. The worst part? Stan is starting to notice. You have never been good at hiding your emotions. The trick to it has always been to convince yourself you don't feel it at all, and not think about it, and that has always worked like a charm. But whenever the emotion claws its way back up to the forefront of your mind, you can tell Stan knows something is wrong. So you can't even give him the happy ending he deserves. You can't even convince him that you want to be here on the open seas forever with him, like he deserves. And you keep trying and trying to hide it, but Stan keeps asking in roundabout ways, like "You're being awfully quiet, sixer," and "whats that look on your face?" and eventually it comes exploding out of you like a shaken-up soda bottle dropped on its cap.

And then it's like you're back at home in New Jersey again, standing in the living room while dad grabs Stanley by the shirt. It all comes pouring out of you, in the worst possible way, with the worst possible phrasing, like a pandora's box of monstrousness, and Stan tries to fight back against the sting of your words, but you're made out of acid and you're burning through him and you can see it on his face, and there's never any coming back from this, not this time, you'll just have to either jump into the ocean or become a monster forever, so Stan can hate you more easily again, and-

-and at the end of the outburst, you're still on a boat in the middle of nowhere in the ocean with your brother, in dangerous waters, and you have things to do to keep the boat running smoothly.

You can't run away from him. He can't run away from you. You're stuck here for at least a couple more weeks, even if you turned around and sailed back towards shore right away.

-

And the thing that compels me so much here, despite how unbelievably angsty it all is, is that it sets up a situation wherein the Stans might end up forced to actually address the decades of resentment and confusion and wanting-to-reconnect-throughout-it-all that they thought they could gloss over and heal with enough time spent adventuring together on a boat. They might end up forced to actually address the crux of the issue that drove them apart in the first place: Ford wanting a little more space to feel like his own person, and to feel like he's able to have his own dreams, too.

It wouldn't happen easily, nor right away, but if they were stuck together on a little boat in the middle of nowhere surrounded by magical creatures they have to protect each other from in order to make it back home alive, then after they had one fight where they brought up all the things they silently agreed to never bring up again, it would probably happen many more times, and each time it would leave them both angrier at each other than ever, until eventually something honest slipped through amidst all the saying-anything-except-what-they-mean bickering. And once enough of these honest moments slipped through, then they would have a thread to tug on to start to unravel the gargantuan knot of their decades of unresolved conflicts.

And then, eventually, maybe Stan could learn that he can have a good friendship with his brother without needing to be glued to him at the hip, and Ford needing a certain amount of alone time doesn't mean he dislikes him or wants to abandon him, and Ford could learn that he can be honest and have a meaningful connection with someone without it driving them away and making them hate him.