#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.

[evilwizard]

Hey, Happy Last Day of 2024! We made it! 🎉

My New Year’s gift to myself is casting a malicious spell that makes you all HAVE to watch AMC’s Pantheon. It’s required.

It drives me crazy how few people know about this gem of a show. The characters are endearing and relatable, and the story plays with the boundaries of tech, fantasy, and AI anxiety with a lot of skill. One of the best sci-fi shows of the best decade, and AMC gave it absolutely zero advertising.

You can find it on Netflix, or by sailing the High Seas (if you know what I mean).

Good luck, and make sure you go into it blind! (TW for a few scenes of animated gore in the first couple episodes, and for themes of unreality and depersonalization.)

[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).

[emacrow]

Siren song of Space by emacrow/the og prompt creator

The assignment has gone all type of wrong for the justice league.

They were investigating a mass sudden disappears of a town called Amity Park after finding out a neglectful person(*cough cough* flash*cough*) thought they were prank calling about ghosts and some group called GIW until John Constantine heard one of the voicemails.

The area where Amity Park was now a Mass ocean that looked like galaxy was dipped into it even if it was daytime and fog covered the greenish tint sky inside the Barrier.

This was deep world ending shit, but unfortunately, none of the adults could even enter at all nor high tech ships not even John constantine could pass through, but old wooden ships with food supples can easily slipped through, along with the except J'onn.

Who tried float a foot deeper in without gripping his head from the pure mass empathetic overload and pushed back out by an unknown force, going through an internal shock until one curious Robin tried stepping a foot in and successfully went through, stepping on the ship easily.

Seeing that only kids and teenagers could go leads to mass arguments between the Justice league until John cut in that the abnormal sea space dome is expanding, sucking in more ground until the very earth itself is swallowed whole.

Grumbly, internally, Batman called in the young justice league, teen titans, and a few robins to find what had happened and come back in 1 hour.

Now, the entire young justice league, main teen titans, and robins were on a wooden ship sail into the space like sea.

Cyborg and blue beetle had to stay behind due to being mostly technology along with miss Martian who might also had the dame reaction as J'onn earlier as Red Robins pulled the sail with a compass, Starfire, Raven, Super girl, Super boy and Tranformed eagle Beastboy flies around as the scout.

Aqualad couldn't get in the water the moment he tried to stick his head only to immediately pull away gasping for air. This water was too dense yet suffocating like space itself submerged in it.

Kid flash helps around with arrangements, tying up knots and untying when the wind blown hard with the help of bat girl, robin, and Artemis

The only sound they could hear was the sea roaring, the ship creaking with each wave they sail over, and an odd electric sound buzzing around, as the ominous greenish fog seemed to roll in.

Starfire, Super Boy, Super girl, Raven, and Beastboy flies back onto the ship the moment their vision was blurring by the Fogs. Super boy and girl couldn't detect any other elses' heartbeats others than their group, and that alone sent chills of what could have happened to the Amity Park residents.

The sense of danger was shivering up everyone's backs as they could hear a voice, low and quiet, that began to grow louder.

Beautiful like yet haunting young male voice that nearly pulled their attention towards as Raven yelled at them to cover their ears with ears plugs from one of the wooden boxes now.

Something massive white was swimming in the star filled sea near their ship.

There couldn't be anything alive in this sea, but their eyes couldn't betray what they have saw.

It was humanoid, with multiple arms with webbed fingers with white massive hair longer then foot ball station, a large slender body that had thousands upon thousands of green spots and hundreds scars too neat and professional align to be normal cut and a very long tail with shredded fins.

Super boy and Girl eyes widen seeing that the green spot weren't for show as they were bubbles with people sleeping, encased, young and old, most of them were green colored or off color humaniod while the rest were living human people asleep.

They all kept their ears shut with the ear plugs, But super boy and Girl could still hear the most beautiful yet haunting voice that sound like a Siren enchanting his next victim.

Red Robin could see Super boy swaying in a dazed like state while Super girl looking enchanted nearly floating, motion the others to help tied the two to the pole with lightly laced Kyptonite rope to stop them from going over board toward the Entity.

Raven could see that this was likely the Entity that trapped the Residents of Amity parks, but the questions remains as how it got here and why this space dome was here.

Bat girl was signing that this creature seemed desperate, hurt, confused, traumatized, hopelessly scared, yet dazed in some typed of trance like over protective like state.

[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..."

[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.

[matrixbearer2024]

I had an ask about this regarding my AU but I don't know what happened to it after I saw it in my inbox cuz it might be tumblr being funny but essentially it was just:

"Does West Coast Tech still exist? Why didn't Ford go to West Coast Tech?"

Short answer is, he simply didn't want to in this AU. West Coast Tech is among the Ivy Leagues in my AU and BMU still exists too, it still has the prominent reputation of being a back-up university.

In this AU ultimately Ford never really developed the mindset that he was "special" and had to make a point of it or prove that he was somebody. Because of their upbringing, there wasn't a "preference" others had towards either twin because Filbrick disliked them equally and their academic and extracurricular skills basically made them break even. There wasn't a stupid twin/smart twin between them and Caryn made damn sure about it.

Possibly the only thing that most people say about the two is that they're "smart but stupid" because of all the trouble they get wrapped up in doing whatever or being too curious for their own good.

The teachers or coaches didn't favor one twin over the other either and they were generally liked by their peers. Ford didn't end up with that sense of arrogance that you can typically see in canon where he believes he is above the rest and he has to be and Stan didn't develop that inferiority complex compared to his sibling.

In this AU, Ford had the option to go to West Coast Tech but even throughout senior high he already knew that a good university could really only get you so far. He was a sharp tool yes, but... he didn't think that edge would really push him far. He had an edge, but it wasn't much.

There's a lot of gifted people nowadays and even good credentials aren't going to guarantee a decent job or a stable career, that's if you can even get a job right away.

The science project and everything was still what gave him the opportunity and Stan even congratulated him for scoring that high but Ford wasn't really pleased? I'm not sure with the word but he wasn't exactly happy with the circumstance. They didn't fight over it considering all throughout highschool they kept talking about potential careers and whatnot.

It didn't help that Filbrick encouraged the idea of West Coast Tech because of how much money Ford could potentially make. Even so, Ford was stupidly skeptical after seeing the pamphlet and researching online. Realistically it seemed too good to be true, and he couldn't even sleep on it from how much he kept thinking.

Stan knew he would likely take longer to figure things out but he'd get there, and he was willing to let Ford just reach for the stars as he always did. They still have that dream of sailing around the world as adults but it's a lot more defined and realistic compared to how they planned it in canon. They're thinking, work hard, get rich, then retire early to sail and travel around the world. If their paths split early, they'll find a way back when they grow up. They always do.

It's something they constantly talk about because they both desperately want to move out after graduation just to get the hell away from Filbrick. It doesn't matter where they end up they just need to get away.

Even so, Ford mulled over the offer and decided to visit the university before making his decision. His gut feeling was both parts right and wrong, sure— what he thought was too good to be true was the actual reality of the school and it's pursuit of academic excellence, but he was right to be skeptical after he noticed the snobbish and arrogant nature most of the students have. It's a common thing for ivy leagues to have that mentality that they're the cream of the crop. The best there is. Not everybody is like this of course, but sometimes the loudest crowd doesn't always have to be the majority.

It does take a lot of work to get to their level and to stay at that level but Ford couldn't see himself in that school. He didn't want to allow himself into that crowd where he knew it would potentially make him worse off as a person. Also, he had the entirety of undergrad to get through, if he so much as wanted to transfer to an Ivy League to get his masters or doctorate he knew he could! So what was the rush?

University was a stepping stone and he had time, he knew he could do a lot but he didn't need to rush. So... Ford turned down the offer.

Sadly, it was pretty much as chaotic(bad) as you'd think.

Of course, that meant looking for another university instead and it was mostly Stan who did the research this time because Ford was too burnt out and sulky after everything. He knew he made the choice that would inherently grant him more happiness, but it doesn't always feel like that right away and it didn't help that the walls were paper thin. It's hard to fall asleep to your parents yelling and throwing things around in a fight because of a decision you made.

Both of them had generally pretty good track records academically and a long list of achievements to follow it so it wasn't hard for them to find universities either. That's how they ended up with Graviton University in Oregon, it's not an Ivy-league but it's not as bad as BMU either. It really is just a stepping stone in the middle, your performance practically shapes the path you walk on.

The Stan twins have a choice in this AU mostly because they could also afford it, take note- the family is financially comfortable in this AU because Filbrick is one hell of an unscrupulous businessman but very successful. They're not rich but they're comfortable, and that's a lot in the state of the economy nowadays.

Ford has choices in this AU and it's also a very big part to play in why he could turn down the offer at the time and not look back at it with regret. Stan also being on even ground beside his brother is why they don't ever fight about such topics either, he's not ever chasing after Ford— he's standing right next to him.

The subtle differences from canon can genuinely just make a world of difference in the bigger picture. But yeah, it's why I had them go to Graviton University instead. It's a middle-ground and it's also how I can essentially get them to stay in gravity falls instead of ending up elsewhere when I cranked the "weirdness" level pretty low. There's still bits and bobs of it around, but not to the degree of the canon show I would think.

I hope this generally clears up how I wrote or my thought process as to why I didn't have Ford reach for the stars despite having that option and why the Stan Twins are generally this tight knit in my AU.

[noxturnalmoth]

Literary Service

Summary: Life is a cruel mother but a great teacher. In Noxus, where life is but an afterthought, war raises its people with an iron fist. Whether they like it or not. So when one is courageous enough to escape, they learn to take all that life has to offer, even if it has to be by the skin of their teeth. What would happen if the scholarship that provided you with an escape made you encounter a man as great with his words as he is with hiding the festering wounds in his heart? And what if he was your teacher?

Warnings:

Word Count: 6,724

Masterlist: here

Chapter 2 - The Art of War

"You can call me Mr.Marlowe or Professor Marlowe, no casual naming shall be used when talking to or about me. I will be your literature professor this year, and should you find yourself unlucky, for the remainder of your years in this major aswell." His voice no louder than the noise of the chattering surrounding you, yet commanding silence as soon as its gravelly drawl bounces in the large room. High ceiling carrying his voice, the sound wrapping around each student and inspiring total obedience. His gait was slow, deliberate like a predator waiting on its prey, and with his gaze on you it certainly felt as if you were his next meal. You remember his warmth the day prior, although his pale skin was as cold as fine porcelain, and the gentleness of his touch. You also remember the burning orange eye, scalding as the flames that destroyed your home long ago, the bright iris glowing in the middle of a sclera as black as the obsidian freezing the rolling rage deep below your skin. He was an entirely different man in the class, all traces of softness gone, instead stood a comandeering presence; a relaxed and practiced straightness elongated his spine, prolonged by strong squared shoulders.

His eyes leave you as he drags them lazily over the rest of your class, a hand caressing his desk as he walks around it, sitting himself nonchalantly in his chair as he fishes a flash drive from his briefcase. When he turns the class computer on and turns the projector on, showcasing a list of titles, you brighten up. When you arrived in Zaun and were cradled back to health by your benefactors, you couldn't move for a month and searing pain took you as you walked for the next two. So you decided to use the time you had before class to do some research, entering your name in the Zaun Tech site and entering the student space. There were displayed your name, origin, major, and some messages from the board and teachers were in your message box, mainly congratulating you and welcoming you to the school. One was out of the ordinary though.

First year litterature students,

as I do each year year, I have compiled here titles that you can, if you so wish, browse through at your leisure. The mind, like a blade, needs sharpening and the long summer break leaves it dull. So hone your reading lest you wish to complicate your back to school with warming up the slow inner mechanisms of your heads.

And if you find this to be a hassle, do not come whining to me about being unable to follow my class as I will not wait for you. You should read at least one book to spare both yourself and I some extra work.

Welcome to the Zaun Technical College,

S. Marlowe.

And attached to it was a list of ten books ranging from classical litterature, to science-fiction, horror, gothic romance, young adult, poetry and even military strategy. The last one was no stranger to you, and although the other books had been delightful reads from the depth of your bed with your left leg and back surrounded by braces, your thoughts compiled into your notebook, something about the Art of War brought an uneasy sense of relief to you. It was waters you had sailed through before, and reading through the book felt more like gazing at memories you'd rather forget, with all its words engrained in your head, the book quickly discarded before you devoured what remained.

Mr. Marlowe walked back in front of his desk, leaning against it with his hips held by its edge as his wiry form crossed both arms and legs. "Although the list was not mandatory I hope you have read from it. Who amongst you has read through at least half of it?" His voice all but sneers, a dark irritated edge hardening the curve of his eye as he looked to the handful of hands spearing the air. "And I don't suppose anyone has read all of them."

He says, words clipped and cold, rattling through the rest of the young people surrounding you. But his face tenses into a surprised frown as you raise your hand, his eyebrows softening in the early afternoon light. His tight sneer calming into a relaxed slight smirk, his head tilting to the side.

"Did you now? Then I suppose I will hear a lot from you in this class?"

He croons teasingly, his eyes disbelieving, the tumultuous seas of his stormy ocean eyes softened by the glow of something fonder. And as you place your arm back on your table and fiddle with your fingers at the sudden attention from everyone in the amphitheater, you nod a single assured shake of the head that has him huffing. Although from how he relaxed, it was something more akin to a genuine laugh than a mockery, but this man didn't seem to be the type to do the former so you could only theorize.

The class falls into complete silence as he snaps his fingers towards the first title, The Divine Comedy, an echoing sharp sound that sends your atoms in a frenzy as you straighten. A couple of classmates scramble to explain the book's plot, its genre, its author Dante Alighieri, and its publishing date in a messy and unstructured heap of words. An almost bored nod shakes Mr.Marlowe's head as he listens to the rushed and simplified explanations from students that either read through an explanation of said book, or simply skimmed it. Another snap of his fingers rang, slicing through the meek scrambling voices like a seamstress' scissors through silk. The next title, The Mask of The Red Death by Edgar Allan Poe, was described by mumbled answers forced out of students' mouths followed by yet another snap. The Shining, snap. The Hunger Games, snap. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, snap. Again and again, until the last book. Your face screwing in discomfort at obvious fallacies and poor research or reading comprehension as your classmates presented the tomes compiled in the professor's list. The atmosphere became heavy as the last snap rang, students looking at each other and whispering in rushed and scared voices from the display of power from the tall, lithe and commanding man. His dark clothes sucking up all the light in the warmly lit cream colored room, wordlessly ordering attention towards his form, eye lidded, body relaxed yet seemingly ready to pounce, although at what you had no idea.

"The Art of War by Master Sun Tzu, sir." His head tilts as a heavy exhale leaves his lungs and a small rictus makes its way to his sneering lips, slicing through his face like a butcher's cleaver saws flesh and bone. Dissatisfied nonchalance replaced by something akin to patient curiosity, nothing but the slight shift of his shoulders and the light unclenching of his hands and jaw to prove the change.

"The Art of War or Sūnzǐ Bīngfǎ, was written approximately in the 5th century by Ionian born Noxian commander Master Sun Tzu. It contains 13 chapters, each devoted to a certain skillset or as he called them 'arts' and their applications in military strategy and tactics. Another Ionian born Noxian warrior, Sir Shenzong of Song, used The Art of War to create his anthology: the Seven Military Classics. The original is mostly known for the quote 'know thy enemy' although one of those most revered amongst Noxians is: 'When the enemy is relaxed, make them toil. When full, starve them. When settled, make them move'."

You recite, words flowing from your mouth before your brain could follow, it was an easy yet impossible task to speak those words that were carved into your flesh many years ago. But as you look back up, your ashamed gaze heavy and dragging your head down into a bow, your eyes find Mr.Marlowe.

His face had relaxed, jaw unclenched, arms holding him in a backwards lean against his desk as the teal of his iris drinked in your form, like small sips from a tumbler full of expensive whiskey. The intensity of his gaze was akin to a sandstorm in the burning deserts of Shurima, but it was not violent. No, it was inquisitive, your words had been too smooth and calculated, as if repeated time and time again, your body had stiffened in a strained familiar manner, eyes blank; and you knew it. Just like he'd uttered his commands yesterday, your body reacted to the book similarly, bone deep obedience dripping from your very being yet no weakness in sight, a perfect little carved wooden soldier albeit worn by time and use. Your lips purse.

"Piltovan priest Jesuit Jean Joseph Amiot translated it and published the final version in 1772, although it was republished in 1782. The Demacian Lionel Giles also published his own annotated version in 1910."

You trail off, hands cupping over one another in an attempt for comfort as your classmates eyes pierce through you like poisoned daggers. The acrid taste of what feels like bitter judgement slowly pooling in your stomach before being soothed by three, slow methodical claps coming from the man at the front of the room.

"You lot should take notes into how to properly present literary works like.."

He tilts his head at you and you reveal your name, voice tight at uttering it around so many people whose attention was placed solely on you. Mr. Marlowe nods and repeats your name, using it to end his sentence, finality ringing like a blacksmith striking his hammer onto glowing metal.

The rest of class is spent with the svelte man describing the syllabus, his office hours and explaining what his teaching method entailed. He was harsh, expectant, refused to push deadlines unless catastrophic events struck, but he would never refuse to help and re-explain as many times as needed and was just in his grading. Soon came the time to leave and as you stood up, one hand holding your table and the other your crutch, you felt the throbbing pain of earlier's rushing make its way through your weary bones. A quick look at your phone showcased the hour, your next class would be in quite a while but with how unfamiliar you were with the campus and your limp you knew it'd take longer than it would've, had you been able bodied. Your spiral notebook and pencil case were soon back in their place in your messenger bag as you made your way out of the room.

"Could I steal you for a moment before you get to where you need to be?"

The gravelly yet deceptively soft voice of Mr.Marlowe made itself known as you turned. Eyeing the now sitting man, one hand elegantly holding a pen as he wrote down notes while the other held his head up, at his words you felt a pull and, unable to resist it, one foot stepped forward.

So you made your way towards him, body reacting before you could even process the words, like a sailor succumbing to a siren's song. Yet again the man had puppeteered your body, it was vexing and terrifying. A heavy weight in your stomach as you struggled to figure why he had such control over you. Were you such a well trained beast that you obeyed orders blindly even from a stranger, or was it just him. But if it was, why was it that he could wipe your mind of all the constant, loud, parasitic noise; how did he do it, and most importantly why did it look like, albeit he was in control, he was as surprised as you were. Maybe it was his gentle touch and patient words from yesterday? It couldn't be that, at least not entirely, because he had broken you out of your violent, monstrous rage before that. Your face sours in thought as you lose yourself in the noise yet again, body straight from your feet to your head as settle into the classic Noxian stance, body searching for any familiarity to comfort itself from your confused train of thought.

"At ease."

And yet again, all the tension in your muscles ebbs away like seafoam on jagged boulders, piercing the saltwater surrounding them. Your eyes trail to the sitting man who was still preparing his notes, his handwriting an elegant cursive flowing from his pen with practiced ease.

"You seemed to want to correct a lot of what your classmates said."

He sighs as he leans back, pen settled on the ink covered paper, arms draped over the arms of the chair, and his eye staring at you with a calm curiosity you were not used to.

"Well a lot of their facts were shallow, and I suppose they just didn't organize their ideas properly at times and it felt messy. They also got some informations false. For exemple The Mask of the Red Death is a gothic novella, not a fantasy. And Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone was published in 1997 unlike what they said, the movie though was indeed released in 2001."

Voice steady yet almost meek you explain the reasons of your tension during class, one hand rubbing at your nape as a hum vibrates the air around you. Mr.Marlowe was softly swerving to side to side on the office chair, right elbow planted on one of the arms as his hand holds his chin, eyes pensively staring through you, a small smile making its way on his scarred lips.

"You did read them all then. Something I have stopped expecting after some time as a professor. There is chance for us yet."

He nods absentmindedly and leans forward, elbows on the desk as his hands fold together to hold his chin, the crows feet cornering his eye slowly erased as a sigh pushes its way from his throat as if it was escaping his lungs, rushing out of him.

"How have you been fairing since yesterday? I hope rest came easy after such an episode, gods know the remnants of inner demons can still drag you back to hell."

Your eyebrows furrow at that, not only had he helped you but he also took it upon himself to oversee your state afterwards. It was strange being given such attention, and although kind people took you in when you arrived in Zaun and nursed you back to health, you still couldn't trust such gentleness blindly; the voices in your head growling and hissing in distrust like a pit of starved vipers. But even through the loud fussing, you still couldn't find it in yourself to lie or hide such informations from him, at least out of respect for his earlier kindness.

"I immediately caved in to sleep, sir. Unfortunately it seems I exhausted more energy than I believed and slept through my first two classes."

You hear a sharp intake of breath and, looking up, see his eye narrow, eyes raking up and down like clawed beastly paws trying to rip at your carefully crafted façade. One which showed more control than you could actually execute over yourself, your life, or others.

"Then I believe I should be glad you've decided to show up to mine. Another class of uninterested young adults would have frayed the last of my patience for the day."

His voice almost purrs, dark and playful, like the slow rumble of thunder under rolling black clouds, a flash of chipped teeth in his smirk serving as the lightning punctuating his sentence. His gaze was analytical, each part of you picked apart and pulled back together but from the twitch of his eyebrow it felt like he didn't find whatever it was that he was looking for.

"I have also taken the liberty to contact the board about yesterday, you will not be held accountable for your episode as I have made it very clear that what happened was beyond even yourself."

It was your turn to inhale, a sharp hiss leaving you as your lungs expanded and your spine strained at the movement, eyes narrowing at the man sitting in front of you in question. Lips pursing in thought as he threw you off yet again, why was he doing all of this, what were his intentions and what did he want in return?

"I don't wish to sound ungrateful, but why sir?"

His eye closes as he shakes his head, two strands of tar black hair spilling over his forehead like ink in water.

"People like us are rarely seen in a good light when our demons take a hold of us and twist us into a monster. If we do not have each other's backs, who will?"

His hand rakes through his hair, placing the strands back in place. Your heart was heavy, as if the blood pumped through it was lead, your stomach churning as one piece of the puzzle was revealed to you, people like us. He was like you, different yes, but he knew the horrors of the world as well as you did and came out alive, born anew. Before you could let your train of thought bring you back to the recesses of your mind you look at the clock and wince at the time that has passed.

"I will not keep you any longer, do not rush to class you'll need your energy for it. I will see you on thursday."

And with that, you leave, only answering with a nod as you grip your crutch and bag tighter, your throat too closed up for any words to leave your mouth. The rest of the day goes by fast after Mr.Marlowe's class and luckily you can rip your mind away from the thoughts of him. It may have been hidden, but you shiver at the thought of the eye beneath the eyepatch, the scars marring his face like paths leading to the gates of hell. It was as if it still looked at you, through you, even through the thick leather it pierced you like a hunter's bullet pierces his prey. At home later, a boiling shower akin to the ones you were given in Noxus cleared your mind of the nagging curiosity slowly growing stronger. Food was simple and rest was back to the usual terror filled nightmares, cold sweat carving into your skin like water eroding stone.

So instead of going back to sleep, you read, preparing homework that you had weeks to finish to occupy and cool your frenzied mind. You were not late for or missed any class that day and the day went quite well, a soft and gentle smile stretching across your lips at the prospect of your life being so tranquil now as you walked to the college's grand library. A beautiful carved stone building topped by a glass dome, the inside showcasing rows of tables and immense bookshelves stretching for what seemed like miles on end. By the time you left to return to your dorm, all of the homework you were assigned was done, neatly pinned together in small files. In thursday's literature class you gave back the homework given on monday as you entered the room, hands brushing Mr.Marlowe's as he hummed in surprise, taking the neat file.

"I didn't expect anyone to be so dedicated, yet it's no surprise that if someone had to be it would be you."

A twinge of delight colors his dark voice, brightening it enough for you to hear it. And somehow, and without your consent, your body preens at the praise, as if you were a cat being pet lovingly by its master. The mere thought bringing both discomfort, and something bitter and unknown, it was envy but not in a way you knew. It was more raw.

"The grand library is the prime working environment, I finished my homework before I knew it. It was as if I was possessed."

You chuckle softly, remembering how after entering the library everything felt more like a blur as you excitedly worked over your assignments, finishing them quickly yet not rushed. The man nods softly.

"I'm glad it felt that way, the library is indeed a beauty and it's a shame not more people see it the way we do." You agree quickly before making your way to the same desk as last time, crutch laid on the ground and necessary material set on the desk as more students poured into the room, the class soon beginning.

"As explained monday, our first semester will be focusing on Demacian literature from the previous century, its themes and its growing influence over the mentalities in its homeland and all over Runeterra."

The man says pacing as the presentation is projected over a blank screen, his long fingers holding a remote and pressing to change slides whenever Mr.Marlowe finished explaining it and its contents.

"We will begin reading The Stranger by Albert Camus in class, but I expect all of you to have it by monday to facilitate all the aspects of our work together. You are also encouraged to get the rest of the books annotated in the syllabus list for the semester so you don't need to worry about getting them later."

His voice drawls, eyes raking through the crowd lazily before he opens the book and starts reading. Voice spearing through the warm air of the class like the blades you held once upon a time ripping through the flesh of your enemies, innocent or not. Minds compelled and coaxed into listening by the dark velvet of his tone, like children entranced by the pied piper, leading them to the ends of the world. He was focused, not a word fumbled, pacing guiding you through the words with impeccable timing, voice changing just a smidge when he needed to voice a character, different yet still very much him. Sometimes his eye would trail off, mouth still speaking the words etched onto each page as if he carved them in the bedrock of his mind. And sometimes, you would catch him, nodding in what could only be described as reverance, a certain admiration at his perfected reading; as if he channeled the very essence of the author through his being and offered it to his students, wrapped up with a bow made of his voice.

And you took the gift, cradling the words in your heart and drinking in Mr.Marlowe's timbre as he uttered the sentences inscribed on the pages. As he comes to a stop the slow tap of his closing book resounds through the room, sounding more like a bomb than a pile of pages bound together by a string.

"What can you tell me about this book that makes it so different than usual Demacian tomes?" He leans against his desk, legs and arms crossed like on monday, teal eye tracing a line through the class like the horizon separates the sea and the sky.

"Demacia is known for being a nation of strong morals and honor, which could be a good thing but their pride also serves as a fault. They see themselves as judge and jury more often than not. But Mr.Camus, in this book, describes a man lacking any passion, any grief, any honor or morals. He is empty, some thoughts even make him seem nearly despicable. He is flacid, takes no initiative, he's like driftwood in the ocean, impassible and flowing wherever the waves bring him, he seems more like an object than a human."

You say, voice strong yet a slight waver concludes your explanation and Mr.Marlowe nods an appreciative hum coming from his throat.

"Indeed. Whereas traditional Demacian behavior is usually confident, morally strong and leaning towards an almost impossible sense of self-righteous justice, Camus here depicts a man at the complete opposite. It doesn't mean he is actively trying to do wrong, no, that would require effort that our protagonist has no intentions of giving. Whether he can or cannot is something I will let all of you theorize. He is indeed empty, a shell with human shape but lacking anything that would make him remotely human in a philosophical sense. He does not even grieve his deceased mother."

You absorb every word, pen gliding on paper as you write all that is discussed. "While his lack of grief could possibly be explained by depression or any other psychological cause of the like that could hinder his emotional response, he also shows no contentment. None at spending time with his friends, none at doing anything at all, no motivation whatsoever in seeking contenment either. He seems to be in a stagnating state of disinterest at everything in the world, even more so towards himself, albeit self-centered at times in his reflection."

A Teal eye cuts to you, dragging you to the depths of its self contained ocean. "What do we call this lack of motivation and drive, this lack of want or need to feel anything pleasurable or good?"

His voice questions, voice seemingly darker, hands braced on each side of his hips against the desk. "Anhedonia, sir." His chest grows in a heavy, quick breath, that almost sounds like a hiss as he releases it. As if a vicious serpent crawled out of his body, but no bitter venom came at you, only the vision of his stiffened shoulders and hands clenching a little more over the edge of the desk.

"Indeed."

His voice is back to its usual controlled drawl and his body relaxes as class continued, ending just short of 2 minutes after the appointed time. As students rush out, you take your time, not wanting to get pushed and trampled as you limped your way out, you've learned the hard way since becoming disabled that not many care for proper etiquette and you would have to look out for yourself alone.

"Not only are you extremely well versed in military strategies and tactics, able to recite excerpts of ancient manuals with practiced ease and explain them clearly and in their entirety. You are also very attentive at every new project you are given. I applaud you for your dedication."

A soft gasp escapes you as Mr.Marlowe's voice shakes the empty room, stopping your slow walk to the exit. "You must be one of the more passionate students I've had the chance to teach."

Your back screams at you as you turn towards the man, slowly pacing towards him as he talks, and a small smile stretches on your face. Your heart once again warming at his praise, drinking it like a drunkard does alcohol.

"I am here because I love reading and writing, I love thinking, I love seeing all the ways we can show our humanity through literature, the good and the bad. Why would I not pay attention? Why would I not want to dig deeper within the pages until I can find the hidden meanings?"

He chuckles, a short soft sound leaving his throat before he can wrangle it into submission. "The Noxian determination is without limit I see. Maybe your ethic will spur on your classmates into taking less time to wake up from their holiday filled stupor. I, for one, would appreciate that very much."

His legs cross in his chair as he writes down, notes and pages filled with cursive shaped black ink. He sighs softly and a page turns, his eye tracing over your face pensively before he clasps his hands together in a relaxed manner.

"I would like to make an inquiry. It would be an indulgence for me to ask, but I figured that it wouldn't hurt to try." You tilt your head at his words.

"What is it, sir?" Clasped hands tighten and cheek twitches almost lost to your keen eye had you blinked.

His hands separate and he holds his pen again, writing a succession of words on the blank page, the cursive becoming intellegible as he turns the paper your way.

The Odyssey by Homer

You bend softly, a wince stopping your descent, and grasp the paper.

"I would like you to, if you wish, read this book and come to see me during office hours to discuss it. Take the time you need, do not rush yourself, I am simply asking you to indulge me. Not many students have your passion, or at least they hide it quite expertly, so it is a refreshing sight. I would like to share some time sharing knowledge with a like minded individual rather than simply entrusting it upon someone."

His words sink in, he only wished for someone to be as interested in litterature as he was? Coming from a man with such a strong, comandeering aura, it felt almost childish. Yet you couldn't bring yourself to refuse, the books you were given in the list were nothing short of great and if they were anything to go by, you'd guess the rest of his picks were just as pleasing to read.

"Of course sir, I'd be honored. I've finished all of my assignments for the moment so I'll try to read and analyze this book over the weekend. I could come.."

You trail off, thinking about how you wanted to make good of your free time to read and maybe read again the book he proposed to give a discussion worth his expectations.

"Next friday, at around 5 p.m?"

He caps his pen and tidies his desk. "That would be perfect. I'll be expecting great things in your report, but especially that you enjoyed my recommendation." His voice is soft as he places his books in his briefcase. Coat plucked from the back of his chair as he rose up.

"If it's anything like what you put in the summer list, I know I will." You nod a respectful goodbye and wish him a good weekend as you walk out, heading to the library to get the book so you could read it in the comfort of your bed.

At home, before sleeping, you slip in the comfort of your bed and open The Odyssey, notebook and pencil next to you so you could take pauses and note your thoughts and ideas. Falling asleep after hours of reading as your eyes trace the words written on the pages. Nightmares waking you in the dead of night and making it impossible to fall back asleep. You decided to continue and opened your book back up, realizing that reading will at least soften the anguish provided by the nightly horrors you face. Friday wasn't anything special, and at night you tucked yourself into bed with your books again. The epic of Odysseus, king of Ithaca, and the trials and tribulations he had to face exciting you, pulling at your heartstrings and lulling you to sleep. Saturday and sunday were spent all day reading, book clutched in your hands as you ate and did your daily chores, even taking it for grocery shopping or to get the books Mr.Marlowe wanted for class. Monday's class went fast.

"I am done with the book but I want to read it again to see what I might've missed." You utter to the tall man as his fingers click on a laptop's keyboard and he hums. His face lifting a bit to look at you.

"Be careful, you'll make me raise my expectations." He teases, voice light and you huff out a laugh.

"Whatever expectations you throw at me I'll put all my might into exceeding." It was his turn to chuckle as you smile.

"I know you will." And with that you leave, evening routine continuing until friday.

The whole day was spent pacing in your dorm, you sat in bed, then in one of the chairs near your small kitchen, then back on your bed. It was as if you were a starved, caged lion, the prospect of discussing the book with your professor warming you from the inside out. You were making someone proud, and it was not by accomplishing deeds of great violence and being a glorified mass murderer in an army originating from the depths of hell itself. No, he was proud solely because you were passionate about the subject he was teaching. It was as simple as that. So when the time came to leave, you went to the building his office was set in with a metaphorical pep in your pained step. After asking around at the reception you walk towards the left corridor, stepping in its empty space while windows let in the golden light from the setting sun. You straighten and knock three times, a hummed "come in" making you turn the doorknob and shuffle inside. The smell of tobacco immediately hitting your senses as you close the door behind you. Turning around you see Mr.Marlowe at a big mahogany desk, decorated with carved mythological figures, pouring over files as he smoked a cigar. The window was wide open, probably to not to imbibe the room with the smell, although it seems that was too late. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with books of all sizes, some thicker than others, and to your left were a small coffee table and a maroon velvet covered couch, the same maroon velvet that was on the seats and backrets of the chairs facing the grand desk.

"Ah, there you are. I will not lie that I've been expecting you, even since before the appointed time. Take a seat."

Your body obeys him again, slowly setting yourself on one of the chairs you sigh at your unwilling reaction before setting your crutch down andfishing for your notes in your bag, left leg stretched to the side of the desk. When you came back up, his papers had been discarded in neat piles on the side of his desk and one of his hands held up his head, his eyepatch discarded.

"I won't lie that I've been pacing all day too, sir. I read the book three times in the span of a week so I could be as thorough as possible and I couldn't wait to get to you."

Your voice softly declares with a smile as you open your notebook and he chuckles, waving his hand for you to begin. Words fall from your lips, at first hesitant and unsure but at his gentle stare, the burning eye somehow coaxing you with warm kindness instead of burning you with scalding anger, your voice turns more confident and, with time, even excited. He nods and quips as you decribe all your notes, lending them over to him, your hands accompanying your words in frantic movements. It was as if your mind turned off, his approving gaze, encouraging words and small smirk enough to spur you on. By the time you're finished, almost panting after gods know how long, you notice just how satisfied Mr.Marlowe looks, almost proud. And your insides shiver in delight at that, his approval causing reactions in your body and mind that you didn't even know you could have.

"Needless to say you liked it?"

You nod as you drink from a water bottle he handed you and he chuckles.

"A life of violence can do multiple things. Leave you dead, leave you unable to move on, or leave you with a thirst for all that humanity has to offer. I'm glad to see you are the latter, as am I."

Your eyebrows furrow and your head tilts, eyes appraising the man in front of you. His teal eye, the other being similar to a topaz cushioned on black velvet, the scars on his face, the grey hairs caressing his temples, the black shirt, slightly opened at the top. He wasn't acting any different than usual, but maybe it was the proximity or the fact you were alone with him in his office that made his words ring so much louder. The remnants of the class' energy not here to protect you from the comandeering aura of the man in front of you, who looked to be observing you just as much as you were observing him. Two predators in the wild, but one was always going to be the prey, and as his eyes picked you apart yet again, you realized it was you. It was terrifying, someone wanting to know and see you, because no matter what he had seen you knew he'd probably turn in disgust and shun you if he knew and saw everything that you were. A monster. Your nightmares never failed to remind you that fact as they stopped you from getting more than 5 hours of rest per night.

"You left."

His voice takes you away from the spiral of your own mind.

"What do you mean, sir?" Your voice shakes and he sighs, stubbing out his cigar as the smoke escapes his mouth.

"I look at all of my first year students' profiles, it helps me decypher their motivations, ways to push them to do their best. You are from Noxus, and gods know leaving this hellish place is hard if you aren't a noble. Actually, you would know too, wouldn't you?"

The bottle crinkles as you hold it tight, fighting off a sneer as you look away in shame.

"What if I do?"

"Then I'd say your crutch is a consequence. And that the episode you had that day was but the surface of the deep painful abyss left behind by the war, filling every crack of your broken mind with unfathomable darkness."

Breath stuttering, your eyes find his, but you don't find disgust, no you find gentle understanding.

"And what do you want from me then, sir?" His eyebrows furrow and he leans forward.

"For you to see that you can and deserve to heal."

He rises, chair creaking at the loss of his weight as he walks towards one of the bookshelves, perusing the selection until his long fingers grasp a tome. Your body is tense, shaking slightly as he approaches you from the side, gently placing a book in front of you as he leans back on the table.

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

"Why?"

You try as hard as you can to keep your voice from cracking while looking down, in confusion or from the whirlwind of emotions currently clashing in your heart you do not know. And although your voice stays steady, the grit in it is unusual enough for Mr.Marlowe to sigh as his hand finds your chin and turns your face to him gently.

"So you can indulge me some more, I enjoyed our discussion today and would love to have more if you'll have me."

His voice purrs low, a softness to it that you would think impossible to be directed towards you.

"That's not.."

Your voice chokes out, that's not what I meant, was what you meant to say. But it seems like he knew with how his grip on your chin slightly clenches, bringing you back to Earth before your mind sunk back down into the ocean of self-hatred that was your soul.

"You will come next friday, same time. If you haven't finished the book by then, we'll read it together, but I will still listen to what you have written about it."

His grip leaves your chin with what almost felt like a caress as you grab the book. Heart pounding, head turning and stomach churning. Who was he, and what did he want? Your mind yells at you against following him in the dance he wishes to lead, warning you about bad intentions, about darkness both your own and his, about violence and pain. But as you look into his eyes and remember his praise and gentleness, your mind and body separate, the latter operating without a pilot as it itches to answer.

"I'll do my best not to disappoint you, sir." Is what you utter, obedience bleeding into the inner hatred you hold towards yourself, burnt into every fiber of your being. And as he brushes his hand over one of yours, brows furrow, tears almost threaten to leave your eyes and your throat closes up.

"I don't think you ever will."

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[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.

[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.

[bomberqueen17]

how the writing is going

Ok so. LOL. About the only thing I am effectively achieving this week *is* writing, and even that is not really..... I don't have a draft. But I have a whole bunch of sample snippets I've written to try and feel my way through the worldbuilding and discover the sorts of things the characters are likely to be preoccupied with, which is often how I figure out what a plot should be.

The next thing I thought about after dolphins was modes of transport besides sailing ships.

So this is a fairly high-tech society, but they do not have fossil fuels, and they don't have a large-scale power grid. I decided that for aesthetics, but as I'm unpicking my plot, I'm realizing that it makes sense. See, the main driver for all my plot devices is that there's a lot of sun activity-- sunspots, coronal mass ejections, magnetic field anomalies, that sort of shit. A power grid could not survive on a large scale. So all power generation is done in small, local installations-- some very local indeed, panels on rooftops, little waterwheels, tiny wind turbines. Industrial-scale power is generated in hydro plants and used right at the site for hydro-powered manufacturing-- much of it direct hydro-power, not converted to electricity. Just direct drive waterwheel shit. Because the sun can throw whatever shit it wants at the planet and your waterwheel won't notice or care.

That said. Communication over long ranges does pose a significant challenge. You're going to need line-of-sight semaphores and shit, which I had not worldbuilt in the earlier versions but absolutely could add in.

There should be trains, and I haven't really pondered those yet because I need to know more about my geography. Please, god, don't make me draw a map, but I'm gonna have to. Oh well.

But the other thing I thought of and got really excited about was

DIRIGIBLES

It's feasible with technology we currently have, and this is a thing that some large companies are pursuing, to make very large, hydrogen-filled, entirely solar-powered dirigibles for long-distance cargo transportation, faster than ships, the same speed as trucks/trains but more direct, slower than airplanes but INFINITELY lower carbon footprint. And hydrogen is outlawed by the FAA as a lifting gas, not because of the Hindenberg (which had many contributing factors) but because of a Congressional hearing which was presented by the helium lobby in the 20s. Hmmmmm.

A fascinating detail is that you could make a solar-powered lighter-than-air craft operate day and night seamlessly by having a power generation process where some of the day's collected solar energy directly powers the thing, and some of it goes toward... I forget the details but it powers a chemical reaction that, come nightfall, is simply set to reverse itself, which will then release most of the energy that it took to power the reaction in the first place, which you can now use to power your aircraft. Which is not a thing I knew about and I now have to research how that would work because, fascinating.

Anyway. In Fantasy World, there are totally dirigibles, and they're also probably operated by the Navy, and the water-ship sailors fucking hate them, LOL. This will be a wildly entertaining dynamic and I am rubbing my little paws together.

Also.

While feeling sort of brain-dead and stupid, I got a sheet of paper, went through a bunch of lists of historic names and lists of like, suggested baby names from various ethnicities, and I just made lists on this sheet of paper of men's names, women's names, arguably gender-neutral names, and then a huge pile of surnames, and then I sat down with a bullet-pointed list cribbed from the website of the museum of the USS Constitution of all the personnel that would be on a 44-gun frigate ca. 1812, and I first pondered each of the jobs, added some, took some away, came up with my own numbers of how many guys I needed, and then I just sat there and combined the first and last names in aesthetically pleasing ways to generate characters, lightly crossing out ones I'd used. (and sometimes googling them to make sure they're not somebody famous or something, which i always recommend with fictional character creation, especially if you're as oblivious as I am.)

I was unable to resist also coming up with some backstories-- siblings, little work histories, criminal pasts, notable traits, that sort of thing-- for many of the characters.

I did not make up names for every individual person on this ship, which I decided should have a crew of about 150-180, but I made up some names for every position, and considered age and gender as well for all of them.

I will not use many of the characters I've created this way, I'm sure, but the ones with interrelationships will totally somehow get used, and this way as I'm writing if I need a character I can find them already made, and if that person has a defined role, I already know which one and won't lose track of them.

This also got me to consider why people wind up in the jobs they do in this society, what drives them to seek out certain things, and that gave me a lot of background as to what's going on onshore.

I should try to find a list of a dirigible's crew and think about them, too, and build out the train people and routes and whatnot.

I also bought a used older edition on Thriftbooks of The Annapolis Book Of Seamanship and have been reading that with... more interest than I expected actually. I have the 1983 edition and it has a really moving little plea to let the women on your ship also learn to sail because it is foolish to relegate them to the kitchen when if only they were taught how it works, they could save you all in an emergency. LOL I wonder if that's worded differently in the updated new version or not.

[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.”

[curiouspupsicle]

Alex Thomson attempts the Keel Walk A post from @bellisima-writes has lit a fire under me. And given me an idea for a Good Omens Human AU idea that won’t let go of me.  Crowley would be a daring and charismatic sailboat captain for a luxury brand (inspired by Alex Thomson contracted to Hugo Boss--see video above). 

Aziraphale would be respected singlehanded sailor and cruiser known for his tenacity and lack of reliance on high tech boats and gear. Aziraphale would be based on bits of Bill Pinkney (first African American to do a solo sail circumnavigation while interacting with students underway), Robin Knox-Johnston (first winner of a solo circumnavigation race--British), and Bernard Moitessier (set to be the winner of the first solo navigation race before he quit the race to sail on his own terms). The two sailors meet when an international sailing magazine does a photo shoot and profile to highlight the two leading lights in international sailing who appear to be exact opposites.  This would be a very personal project. I learned to sail in my 40s before selling my house to set off cruising with my then-husband and golden retriever. The last time I sailed was when I singlehanded the boat across the Chesapeake Bay after my long marriage (as in nearly as long for humans as Crowley and Aziraphale have pined for each other as angels) ended.  Perhaps writing this fic inspired by my favorite comfort fictional characters would help me recover my love of this amazing life? Would you want to read it?

[bunnis-teeny-corner]

Tails +shatterspace disability Headcanons

SONIC PRIME SPOILERS

OG Tails

Autistic with a hyperfixation on mechanics and a background fix on tech

High sensitivity to noise and bright (specifically cold toned) lights

Slight arthritis (specifically osteoarthritis) in his left hand gained from attempting to work on a battle injury

ITE (In The Ear) hearing aids due to mild hearing loss after working without proper ear protection

mild hEDS (hypermobile Ehlers Danlos syndrome) specifically the symptoms of fatigue, joint pain in the knees and problems with bladder incontinence

Nine (Incredibly long cuz I put extra effort in)

Autistic with a hyperfixation on tech and a background fix on mechanics

Low sensitivity to bright lights, loud noises and grime due to constant exposure in New Yoke

COPD from the air pollution in New Yoke, mild flare ups and easily susceptible to infections

Rheumatoid arthritis in his hands causing him to use his tails for work more

Undiagnosed BPD (The new yoke medical system is bad and Nine doesn't want to admit he has it)

His FP (Favourite person) was definitely Sonic after he came into his life, he feels it in more of a way that he needs to stay close but his touch aversion stops him from clinging too closely

He wasn't very closely affected by it until Sonic because he's not used to having people around

His fear of abandonment really kicked in after he realised he wouldn't be able to stay with sonic if they fixed the paradox prism

Has the occasional impulse to binge drink which calms more when he works

After he's left in the grim at the end of S3 his disturbed pattern of thinking gets way worse

Mangey

Autistic, non-verbal with a hyperfixation on gardening (or his version of it anyways)

Motor Neuropathy with an obvious foot drop

Sonic completely changed his life when he was taught how to fly

Dyspraxia, he was a pretty clumsy kit but people didn't exactly notice he had it

He eventually learned to live with it

He's not very confident in his fighting abilities because of it

He's completely deaf in one ear after a fall into a branch where he accidentally got a twig in his ear that ruptured his eardrum and it never healed on its own

Sails

He has scurvy, I don't make the rules (I do)

He's incredibly close to losing his hearing

Below the knee amputee in his right leg, they found him stuck at the entrance of a collapsed cave they were treasure hunting for, his leg did not make it

He uses his mechanical arm to stabilise himself as he learns to walk with a prosthetic